The Necromancer nearly laughs aloud at the bickering between the Moon Doctor and the haggard duocorn that hadn’t given his name, and her words draw a satisfied smile to the stallion’s lips with their blunt honesty. While she was scary, perhaps sinister even, the woman was a good leader, that much proven in that single statement, and as the Czar adds his imput, too, the sickly Legatus backs down, slipping into a silence that the young painted man is quite thankful for – mostly because it was impolite to punch out your welcoming committee. He wonders, as Quilyan takes the conversation towards where it is meant to be angled, why it is that the Falls let such a sour tongued individual have any standing among them; his father surely would have placed him among the most useless of the herd, incapable of even watching foals because his mind was off drifting in fields more fantastic than even the kids could dream up.

At least, he thinks, he has shut up.

During all this he’s watching the painted pegasus, the strong willed masculine energy among the two rulers of the pretty land before him, finding that he resonates with some of the same aura as Kaj; they are both warm and trustworthy, something he can guess from the way that both the regal pegasus men carry themselves and the softly spoken suggestion that had fallen from his lips. Not that Seele’s warning had borne any less leadership in its tone, but hers was a more commanding stance than Midas’, one in which she actively flexed muscles and showed the gleam of her steel where the Czar simply commanded obedience. The difference in the two leaders is not one he balks at – his dam and sire are one such pairing, his own herd in the Edge ruled by a Queen and King of such vastly different methods, and it was beginning to register in the young man’s mind as common place for leaders to be as opposite one another as night was from day.

Still related in ways, but holding very few similarities aside from being the same sky.

They’re invited in which makes a ripple of enthusiasm cross him that ripples from his chest out to his smile, and with a benevolent nod of thanks he takes up pace alongside the Moon Doctor and her charming mate, Quilyan, clinging to their familiar presence while at the same time attempting to look possessed of himself and not as nervous as he truly was. He did a fair job at it – unless one noticed he was sweating though the labor was low, and that his eyes flickered almost two quickly from one face to another.

He was beginning to regret and be quite thankful for his offer to come, all in one trembling thought. Even as he takes the “stairs” as Seele has called them, he takes in the situation with the adeptness of a good learner and the nervousness of a first year school boy. It’s stunningly beautiful, that much is to be sure; the sound of water becomes loud and plentiful as they walk inwards, the rivers and lakes and streams that coursed through every inch of this land promising the bounty of the God who watched it, and overhead and alongside them in the trees birds and wildlife sing, croon, and skitter. And while he felt love for the Moon who gave him his magic and watched over the misty woodland of his home, he could not help but feel the rush of swirling pride that fills him to look upon the Lord Earth’s domain.

Midas is saying something about also having recently dealt with traitors, and the stallion looks over at him with interest lighting his blue eyes. He remembered Parelia saying something at the herd meeting about this land, how she had made mention that few were trustworthy but for the Czar himself and a handful of others, and that warning flavors his words. "Traitors as well as foolish Seers?" he voices, a slight chuckle ringing in after them as they came to a halt at the place where, he assumed, Aurelia had assaulted their herd from, or perhaps was simply a favorite place of the Necromancer’s, "damn. When it rains, it pours."