City of Strife

Lady Camilla Dathirii didn`t have a wide array of talents. Unlike her grandson Garith, numbers slipped through the threads of her mind, blurring together in a confusing mess. Her two serious attempts at sword fighting had ended in a sprained wrist and a broken leg, to Kellian`s great dismay. She couldn`t lie or disguise herself as Branwen so often did, nor could she sway the hearts of many, the way her nephew managed when he assumed his role as Lord Dathirii and addressed a crowd. Even the youngest Dathirii had a specialty: the family hadn`t seen such a healer in centuries. No, Camilla Dathirii couldn`t claim any such skills. She was, however, without a doubt the best listener in Isandor, and it suited her just fine. When trouble knocked at a Dathirii`s door, they always came to her. She settled them down with tea tailored to their taste, and they poured their hearts our while she poured the comforting brew into their cup. With time, Lady Camlla had extended her skills to the often-forgotten elderly of Isandor. At six hundred something years, she could hardly be called youthful anymore, but she did not age as humans did. So she helped however she could, cleaning their houses and chatting, strolling outside whenever the weather allowed.

"Has anyone ever told you, Lord Dathirii, that you are this family`s greatest peril?" Diel`s laughter once more filled the room. He put a hand over his heart in mock hurt, then met Kellian`s gaze with a confident smile. A strange light burned in Diel`s eyes, like a man about to jump down a high bridge, certain he woudl survive the fall. Despite his chirpy disposition, Lord Dathirii knew what he had just unleashed. "Greatest peril? You do me a disservice, Killian." He leaned forward a little, grinning. "I`m its greatest challenge."