As he approaches bank, past the now useless and unused dock, the sun is just starting its final descent. Clouds are rolling in, blotting out the blue skies with bloated clouds- not grey in their own right, but the result of a mixture of black and white.

A breeze is picking up now, and it plucks at his cloak.

Just before the appointed time, Diomedes finds himself on the shore of the river. He stands on the shore, looking at the ship, speaking quietly to himself.

"One of my other cousins probably would have made a more formidable foe." Diomedes says softly on the air. "Miho, silent and deadly in her swordplay. Dina, outrageous and colorful in her skill. Drake would probably out think you, adventurer that he is. Obi would be too clever for you. And Rosalind...my dear cousin would have arranged matters to defeat you before ever crossing swords."

Diomedes draws Pagono, knowing that its transparent crystal blade will be certainly be seen. He raises it into the air, high, and then smites the water with a downward thrust of the blade.

Forged from the heart of a glacier, and like the frozen core of a queerly inverted sun, Pagono only touches the surface of that dirty muddy water when the first of many miracles begins.

That dirty water turns to ice. The air is filled with the crackling snapping sound of water expanding into a solid in a split second. Not the whole river either, but a deliberate broad path extending from the bank towards the Ship.

Behind him there is a gasp from the townsfolk, where they hide in safety.

"You never have done that before." Diomedes murmurs, for the benefit of his blade.

Diomedes takes a careful step on the ice. It cracks under his weight, but he can tell that if he steps lively, it will hold his weight long enough for him to take another step, and then another. The unneccesary row boat is left behind as Diomedes walks on water.

Up ahead on the ship, torches are being lit on the deck so as to set the jewel Ship ablaze with refracted light. The small Court of Fey watches him. Sitting in the slender silver riggings, women dressed in low cut silks and satins and bedecked with every imaginable gemstone hang like a canopy of stars. They will have ring side seats for the great battle. The men, less replendent, but beautiful in their own right, watch with their eyes full of stars. Lord White stands on the highest deck, the wind snapping at his own cloak too. Saffron, still shunned by the others, stands with her back to the falling sun, eclipsing it so that it outlines her burnished skin. Collectively these creatures do not look frightened by Diomedes, and yet- no laughs or jeers at the sight of his resolute approach towards them.

Just then from the opposite side of the river, a lone figure dashes from the safety of the trees. A black haired woman, darker of skin than that of the townsfolk, runs towards Diomedes on her side of the bank. Her hands are extended before her and she cries out in a different language than that of the townspeople. Yet, Diomedes knows a fair number of shadow languages. There is no simple translation without study, but he catches part of a simple phrase. 'Free the mother for her own cleansing,' is the best he can make out.

Instantly one of the sapphire armored warriors on the Ship turns towards this intruder's cry. Without hesitation, or even seeming to aim, he pulls back a golden bow and readies to fire.

Does Diomedes shout a warning, interfere with magic, or do something else? The ice will hold him for a few moments, but not indefinitely.

Confident that the aquaphilic son of Brand can manage his balance on the ice that his own remarkable sword created, Diomedes picks up his pace toward the Crystal ship, and shouts upward at the archer as he heads toward the ship, a hand raised to point a finger at the sapphire armored warrior.

The voice of Diomedes will cut through the air like a knife, and there out on that path of ice, he might as well be in a coliseum. The villagers spy from on high on his side of the river, the Others watch from the deck of their terrible Ship, and even the solitary woman on the other side stands higher than he does there on her side. The river is so very low; so standing on its surface, everyone is arrayed around Diomedes.

And for that heartbeat the eyes and ears of everyone are on him alone.

"Do. Not. Loose. That. Arrow!" he shouts in a tone of cold, clear, command that is perhaps deliberately invocative of his twin the White Lord. He shouts these words as loud as he can while moving as swiftly as he dares across the path of ice toward the ship and its inhabitants.

Events unfold very quickly. The Indian woman breaks her stare at Diomedes and realizes that she has been targeted by the warrior on the ship. She starts to turn and bolt the way she came.

Behind her, at the treeline on the opposite side of the river, two men emerge. They are dressed similar to the woman. Based upon their body language and how they are crouching, not to mention his own keen instincts, Diomedes can tell that they might be trying to steal up on the woman without being noticed. Perhaps grab her and pull her back to safety. They don't get very far before they see the sapphire armored warrior and his golden bow. They freeze in place- unsure.

The warrior in sapphire, standing on the deck of the ship, turns his face from where he stares at Diomedes to look back over his shoulder- perhaps looking to see if he is to be told to stand down by the White Lord. But the tension on the bow never relaxes and events are unfolding too quickly. The sudden movement of the woman draws his attention back with a snap. Diomedes is good enough to realize that even though the warrior had turned his head, his aim had not strayed far. He lets the arrow fly.

Diomedes gasps, and then growls, turning his head to follow the flight of the missile.

She cries out only for a second, the arrow missing her heart because Diomedes had intervened. Nevertheless she collapses, falling forward from her own momentum.

As Diomedes turns back towards the warrior up on the deck, the other is lowering his weapon. In the echo of the fallen woman's cry the son of Brand can hear the cry of the spirit of the River. Polluted by these Fey, and chained by the white townsfolk, the likeness of spirit's face stares up at him from under the ice. In an instant her face wavers and changes to another likeness- his father, Brand, calling out to his son in his own silent plea.

Diomedes blinks in surprise, staring down at the spot in the water where the two faces appear.

All this, in only a few moments. The townsfolk spying, the men on the other side of the River, and the 'Others' aboard their Ship- they all wait to see what he will do.

The ice beneath him cracks in unison with the sound of distant thunder.

The sound and the physical moment of the cracking of the ice breaks him from his silent studying of the face. He looks up at the ship, and his eyes mark and remember the archer who shot the arrow. Without further word, Diomedes begins moving at a run across the cracking ice, toward the ship. If a rope ladder is not lowered by the time he reaches it, Diomdes will not wait, and instead will cast one of his racked spells, a Jump spell, designed to let him leap upward into the air and onto the deck of the ship, the exact same spell he once used to escape the Deathjack.

In any event, by ladder or spell, Diomedes' destination is the deck of the ship.

The ice snaps and breaks beneath Diomedes with each foot fall as he runs towards the Ship. The reflected images of his father splinter and shatter with every spiderweb fracture his boots create in their wake..

..but by chance, luck, or the power of Pagono- that ice holds. It holds just long enough to serve its Lord, leaving small chunks of frozen water to float and bob on the surface of the river behind him.

The Fey creatures are lowering a rope ladder. They hesitated though, with what happened with the archer and his own dire command. Diomedes can feel that his purchase will never hold long enough to keep him from getting soaked. He releases his spell, bound in the crystalline matrices of his blade, and gravity and physics be damned.

He lands solidly on the deck of the Ship, while those around him lowering the ladder take a step back. These creatures may be beautiful and terrible, the way that angels are, but he is a Lord of Amber- and even if they don't know what that is or what it means, they can surely sense something more than human about him as well.

Higher above, Lord White and Saffron stand fast and apart from each other.

Diomedes' eyes fix on the offending warrior, and heads start to turn towards that one. In the silver rigging the women, all those hungry eyes, moist lips and perfect bodies, start to whisper to one another, evaluating this remarkable challenger. The men and women on the deck, standing actually near him, are less sure of themselves. A path opens up between the two men as they stand back to let Diomedes pass.

The Warrior in Sapphire looks around to his fellows, feeling singled out. He is a proud creature, but all this attention is plainly disconcerting to him. Rallying himself, he squares his shoulders, his elegant hands resting on the golden bow in front of him. He levels an even stare at Diomedes across the deck.

"These proceedings were not for their eyes.." he calls out to Diomedes, breaking the quiet with an icy and almost defiant tone.

"Be that as it may." Diomedes responds. His tone of voice is icy, his eyes, if they could shift color, would be the color of glaciers, his look to the Warrior in Sapphire is cold.

Diomedes continues with his stare. "However, the indigene's trangression was not a capital offense, not at the very least without the consultation of your Lord, or of Me. Be fortunate that my twin in appearance, and not I, commands this vessel and holds your fate. He may be casually cruel, but I am Diomedes, and such insubordinate foolishness, I do not tolerate."

The Warrior opens his mouth, and snaps it shut. He holds his bow out to another standing by; he waits to be called out himself. His hand is near his sword hilt, as he expects to settle the matter.

He then looks away, dismissively from the Warrior in Sapphire, and looks up to the White Lord. "I leave you to deal with your own crew, but provide the same advice in dealing with him, as I did with the matter upon which you asked me."

Lord White inclines his head slowly, thoughtfully. Diomedes may not be looking directly at the Warrior in Sapphire, but he can sense the other's reaction to his words however, anger and humiliation. Diomedes has dismissed him as unimportant. Yet, circumstances do not permit him to really react or respond, leaving his some of his fellows to snicker at him.

Diomedes then changes his tone to a proud one.

"And I, Diomedes, Bearer of Pagono, Enchanter, Sorcerer, and Spellbreaker, student of the Princess Fiona, and son of the Prince Brand of Amber, am here for our challenge." He holds up Pagono straight upward in the dying light of the setting sun before drawing it down in a salute that his more martial cousins will definitely recognize.

Pagono splinters the light as it is raised high, shedding rainbows all around before it is lowered.

The White Lord takes his cue, stepping forward and calling out to all within listening range. "Let all here be a witness! I, the Lord of the White Rose, acknowledge Lord Diomedes. We have offered him safe passage from this place on the condition that he does not interfere with our business here. I claim this land, by the right of my power to take it. For his part, the challenger, takes offense at our claim, declaring himself the Protector of this land." He raises his hand and calls out clearly to anyone and everyone. "Let it be known that we meet now to test the truth of this matter!"

He saunters slowly down one set of steps, graceful as a cat. "We shall fight until we decide that we are satisfied. None shall interfere! Lest they rob the victor, whoever he may be, of his rightful glory!"

"Those are the only terms and conditions", he adds gravely.

With that he places a firm hand on part of the railing and leaps over it to land on the main deck. Lord White withdraws his blade- likewise formed from some sort of crystal or glass. He executes a quick bow, and then nods once to Diomedes to signal that the duel has begun.

Diomedes nods once, and bows once and shifts to a martial stance.

The others on deck shift positions to stay out of the way, while the ladies in the rigging watch from on high. The White Lord advances slowly, studying his opponent.

Diomedes advances as the White Lord does, taking a curving path toward his foe. His eyes first study the footwork of his twin, seeing how it compares to his own agility and speed. He then studies the blade and how the White Lord holds it, again, comparing it to his own sword style. Diomedes will spare a moment or two to study the blade itself, before returning to a more general, holistic view of his foe. When the battle is joined, he will take the first strike and feint, first, seeing how the White Lord reacts to a relatively aggressive opening from Diomedes. Diomedes' goal is to try and unsettle the White Lord early, and dictate the tempo of the clash of swords.

The White Lord also curves around, but not to avoid Diomedes, but so that their paths spiral towards each other.

Diomedes is a skilled fighter, more than merely competent for all his modesty. Yet, an immediate assessment of the White Lord is difficult- he sees no obvious flaws in his opponent's style as the two of them start to converge.

His rival's weapon is not a twin of Pagono- its an impossible looking thing; more like a thick, flat, and long splinter of glass- with a jagged lines but still possessing a razor sharp looking edge.

When Diomedes strikes out first however, Lord White doesn't hesitate to bring up his strange blade to parry, and it does not shatter. In fact, White keeps the pressure on for a second, making Diomedes shift his stance slightly in order to withdraw. Diomedes' feint is more effective in that he does get White bring his guard up- and only barely recovers to dodge Diomedes' true attack.

The shadow is clearly sizing him up as well as the two of them continuing to circle each other. Then abruptly the other whips his cruel blade around to cut Diomedes' feet out from beneath him. However, the son of Brand is able to block (or neatly hop over) the quicksilver blur.

After a these few initial rounds, now Diomedes is better able to guess the skill of his opponent. Simply put, he's dangerous, skilled, and strong. The good news is all those same words can be used describe Diomedes himself. Who is better? Diomedes is unsure, but its a closer margin than he may have hoped for.

This won't be easy.

A baseline of skill and competence established in his opponent, Diomedes decides to change tactics, next. He goes defensive, moving backwards slightly, trading ground as he keeps up his guard. Diomedes' next goal is to see how good the White Lord is, to see if he will reveal more of his abilities, tactics and strategies if he's given enough room to go on the offense. His goal is to keep on the defensive for a while, but keeping it just good enough that his foe might show any tricks or special proficiencies that he will later be able to counter.

The White Lord doesn't immediately rush to the offensive, but after a few cautious exchanges Diomedes lures him into a feint, which he is able to ward off with Pagono. White attempts a riposte, but Diomedes falls back after catching it just in time.

They continue their silent battle, both studying the other carefully, and yet neither allowing the momentum to slow too much.

Then Lord White feints again, slightly different from before. Diomedes might at this point conclude that the other man is good, but this is representative of his opponents top form, and might be lacking in comparison to his own skill... Maybe... The White Lord follows it with another riposte, trying to score a blow- and again, Diomedes is able to ward it off.

To the north those storm clouds are continuing to build. The wind has grown a little colder and the sky a little darker. Thunder rumbles in the sky again.

White attempts to use this distraction to score yet again, only to be parried as usual. For an instant, this seems like a repetitive pattern-

He lashes out with his cruel weapon, it jabs fast like an adder! Lord White draws blood in short cut near Diomedes left shoulder. His free hand raises towards Diomedes' face as he utters some keyword and a nimbus of spell energy starts to form at his fingertips..

Analysis? This bastard has been sandbagging all along, studying Diomedes even as the son of Brand studies him. Ultimately, Diomedes is still unsure who is better- but one thing is clear.. If this being is a shadow, then he's a damn exceptional one to be sure..

How does Diomedes react? There's some kind of spell in the making.

Diomedes makes a sound of disgust as he feels the beginnings of the spell energy form around the hand of the more dangerous than anticipated White Lord. Brand's son has two reactions, quickly. He brings up his blade, quickly, but not to strike the hand that is concentrating those energies, but at some other portion of his upper body, gambling that his foe will let his guard down in the concentration on the spell enough to score a shot on him just as he did on Diomedes moments before and possibly stop his spell release in the process. His second reaction is, while moving, to twist probability as much as he can, hoping to make the spells release be unreliable or fail if his attempt at a wound fails at the job.

Diomedes succeeds in forcing Lord White to parry a high feint made to the opposite side of his spell casting hand. He doesn't manage it without getting cut, a deep line of blood on the wrist, as he deflected Pagono high on his own blade's hilt. He grits his teeth trying to hold his concentration and finish releasing his spell. It does go off; a rainbow blast of high energy light.. which he tries to direct to Diomedes face. Likely a spell to blind the Son of Brand. Diomedes manages to turn his face away just in a nick of time. Even so, he does see spots for a second.

Lord White snarls, a rare display of emotion. He ignores his minor injury and starts to press his attacks faster and harder. Diomedes has the impression that he's either concerned about his own ability, or is irritated about being caught off guard and wishes to finish this before he suffers further defeat.

Diomedes snarls right back. He retreats slightly, giving himself some time to cast a spell of his. "I'm a better sorcerer than you are." he says softly under his breath in Greek. He keeps on the defensive as he attempts to finish the spell. The arcane spell he chooses is one that makes his physical appearance less certain and more probabilistic, a haze of where Diomedes might be actually standing, making it more difficult to strike him, and in turn to react to Diomedes' own attacks. The more photographically minded might term it a blur spell.

The White Lord squints his almond shaped eyes beneath his high cheekbones, trying to guess what mischief this will be. Light courses down the length of Pagono, as the sword releases the energies stored within it at Diomedes command. A faint shimmer envelopes him.

With a growl Lord White brings down his queer sword in a savage downward slash, and Diomedes is able to side-step. Gripping his blade in both hands, White tries to swing back around to the side- missing Diomedes by a fraction!

In the rigging the ladies applaud, and laugh behind their hands at something joke known only to them. There is a murmur going around the deck, either of appreciation or concern.

"Your temper is a flaw, double." Diomedes says, still in Greek. He starts taking the offensive again now that he feels a little more secure with the blur's effects giving him a little more advantage. Diomedes will try to score hits on Lord White, moving and sidestepping any counter strikes to further enrage his opponent and cause him to make mistakes and leave openings for him to threaten to score strikes. Blind rage from the White Lord is Diomedes goal, and his friend.

Diomedes circles around him as the spell wreaks havoc on the senses of the other. He scores another few cuts on him, before Lord White starts to slow down and play a more defensive strategy High off to the banks, cheers from the men of Evans Mill can be heard. Even with witch€craft revealed, they still cheer for Diomedes.

Lord White's eyes burn with anger. It should be noted that none of his strikes and feints are far off the mark- but the spell is helping. Finally, it appears as if his patience gets the best of him. He tries for a thrust that only manages to tear Diomedes shirt, but leaving him open.

Diomedes will take some of the open shot, leaving himself only a little open in the extension, trusting that if this is a massive feint on the White Lord's part, he has a little protection thanks to the unreliability of his location and can save himself from getting completely skewered. His eyes burn like diffuse gaslights through the blur at his foe as he goes for a moderate wound on Lord White.

Diomedes is cautious, he takes the opening while its there, but he doesn't overextend himself. He keeps himself out of harms way.

Pagono bites into his side, and its an honest blow. Lord White winces through gritted teeth, his eyes filled with pain.. and a disconcerting look of triumph. His free hand doesn't reach out stab at Diomedes at all- he doesn't even try. Instead he reaches down to lay his hand along Pagono itself. White smiles then. "Miscalculation," he says to Diomedes. Blue crackling energy courses up the length of Pagono then. Diomedes is surrounded by a nimbus or cracking blue energy. Every nerve screams in pain as he is briefly electrocuted. He convulses for an instant and is then thrown backwards (if not from the energy, but just the shock of his own muscles contracting and flexing all at once).

Lord White, stands there and collects himself, possibly while Diomedes does the same. His blood dripping on the deck of the Ship- he pushes himself to advance towards his rival.

One thing stands out, but Diomedes has no time to consider it right now: when White spoke.. he spoke in Thari

Diomedes collects himself as Lord White does so and begins to advance again. "Playing the Ithacan now, are we?" Diomedes says through gritted teeth in Greek. Diomedes moves forward to meet him once more, but he tries to continue to work the probabilistic angle. His spell has been a success, now its time to try the Pattern again. Perhaps its just a teeny bit likely that the portion of the deck the White Lord is marching across toward him is a little slicker than he anticipates? And perhaps that will throw his footing off just a little for Diomedes to capitalize on?

Around them, there is interference of a sort. Jeers and catcalls come from some, but not all, of the fae creatures around them "Let them both allow the other to stand!" one of the warrior types call. Out of the corner of his eye, Diomedes can see that Saffron has moved a little closer. She looks a little less forlorn, and more curious now.

The clouds to the north look positively black.

Diomedes is actually going to slow his advance and allow the White Lord to rise, rather than scoring another cheap shot on his mostly prone opponent. He counts on the fall to caution and temper White, and once he is up, he attacks again without hesitation, the time bought by his slip and fall giving him some more steel in his spine to take the fight again to his dangerous foe.

There is no arrogance on Lord White's face now. Diomedes has also demonstrated how dangerous he is as well. How he feels about this grace to rise is unknown, but he takes advantage of it. The protests around the two men stop as they see Diomedes showing himself to be honorable.

White manages to parry Diomedes, but is still trying to regroup. He doesn't press a counter€attack this round. Diomedes can finally assess his foe. White is not his better in sword€craft. Still, if this being is a Shadow, he is an exceptional one.

Diomedes pushes forward, to not allow his opponent room to breathe. Diomedes senses that he has the advantage now, and if he doesn't allow his foe time to try tricks, spells, or anything else, Diomedes can beat him straight up. So Diomedes will continue to press his advantage, making him either sacrifice space and time to escape Diomedes blade, or wear him down and keep him playing defense until he tires out. Diomedes is not going to use any more tricks or spells until and unless Lord White manages one of his own.

Therein lies the rub. Despite his cuts and wounds, the White Lord appears to keep pace. His fighting style is very conservative now. He still does feint and try to strike when he can- more to keep Diomedes honest, than a serious attempt to score a blow.. But he should be getting more and more tired, but the creature is 'treading water' so to speak. If left to continue indefinitely, this could backfire on Diomedes.. they seem stale€mated for the moment.

"What are you, really?" Diomedes mutters in Thari, a little perplexed by the failure to run down his opponent by straight sword€play. He only continues and keeps up this tactic for a little longer before deciding on a feint of his own. He slows down his attack, slightly, and backs off, as if the Lord White has tired him out with rope-a-dope. Diomedes goal is to try and lull him into a false sense that White has begun to turn the tide.

"We come from the End of All Things," the White Lord replies with a hint of satisfaction. "We come from the Source." Diomedes' is not only better at sword€play, he's also a better actor because of it. He senses that his deception is starting to work.

He presses his attack once more, but adds a new twist. "Join us," he calls. "Join us, swear to our masters- do that, and I'll gladly spare this rabble. I renounce what said before, we would do well to have you with us!"

Diomedes fakes a little panting, and a couple of curses muttered in Greek, to suggest that he really is getting tired of the battle and getting worn down. His eyes regard White, as if seriously contemplating the offer, even to the point of slowing down his defenses just a hair more, giving White a little more rope, so to speak. "A weighty prop...proposition." he says. "I should like to see such a place as the End of All Things."

Lord White lowers his weapon a fraction, making no attack. "You have only to cast aside your blade. My court will serve you as the Lord that you are, Diomedes. We will take you to the pace beyond Shadow.."

"Be...Beyond Shadow." Perhaps for a half moment, Diomedes really does consider the offer as a real one, and this might be reflected in his mien as a extremely serious consideration. Diomedes however, lets this pass quickly, and the continued gulling of Lord White is now ready to have its fruit plucked. "No." Diomedes finally says, and sheds his false sandbagging for a full out attack, using those husbanded resources against Lord White's diminished expectations of Diomedes capabilities. He drives forward, watching for a chance to unleash one final spell to give him the last edge he needs to win the contest.

Diomedes falls upon White like a scourge, Pagono raining upon his person like a hail€storm. The White Lord retreats step by step, desperately trying to block every strike he can and failing. "Treacherous! Treacherous like every one of you with your poisoned blood!"

"Look! Look!" he calls out to someone Diomedes is unsure of. "See this thing revealed as it truly is. They reveal themselves in the end like they always do!" Diomedes has him in a bad spot, and can do as he wishes in terms of a special attack or spell.

Diomedes continues to advance with Pagono, Lord White's caterwauling annoying him, but he does not pause to give answer or response. Instead his mouth moves to cast one final spell, and the semblance of a main gauche of an ice like complexion appears in his left hand. With this forceblade allowing one additional blow, he lets White see his doom coming, distracts him with Pagono's sword€play, and then at a propitious moment, unleashes the power of the energy blade, dispelling it in the process, stabbing the White Lord in any exposed spot he can reach. The pain that the temporary blade delivers upon impact will be as cruel as any amusements his foe seems to enjoy to deliver himself.

His opponent fends off Pagono to the best of his ability, and if he notices a second weapon materializing in Diomedes other first, there is nothing he can do about it. Instead he makes to go down fighting. Indeed, he scores a good cut on the son of Brand, but nothing to turn the sway of battle.

The others aboard the ship are intent, watching this spectacle. Saffron has moved to the deck level. Diomedes stabs him with this frozen manifestation of ice, the White Lord gasps in pain. Bringing Pagono around to lay against his neck, the White Lord succumbs, dropping to his knees..

He looks up then, and sneers. "This won't be the end," he laughs, even in his defeat.

"Perhaps not, but here, and now, in this place, you have lost." Diomedes says. "Now, make it formal, and before your crew here, say it. Yield."

"You tricked me in to lowering my defenses," he counters. "You never intended to join us. Its always a means to an end with you lot. This regard for these mortals, just another ruse.." Nevertheless, he lifts his head to address the Ship. "See that he doesn't leave alive," he calls out to them. "No," cries out Saffron, stepping immediately to wave her hands up. "Belay the order!" she snaps.. But out of the corner of his eyes, Diomedes can see some are already starting to move from where they stand. The clouds finally start to lay down their burden, drops of rain fall on the deck to mix with the blood.

Diomedes briefly looks up at the falling rain, and then around at the people around. He booms his voice. "Did not Lord White say: "We shall fight until we decide that we are satisfied. None shall interfere! Lest they rob the victor, whoever he may be, of his rightful glory! Those are the only terms and conditions." Diomedes eyes fasten on the nearest approaching Warrior. "And did I not, honorably, given him leave to rise when chance brought him to a prone position where I might have ended the duel then? Have I not done justice by the law of the blade and duel here?" Diomedes speaks, loudly.

They all stop where they stand.

Not a word is spoken.

Saffron breaks the heavy silence at last. "Relieve him of his command."

"You bitch!" snarls White, and the Warriors approach Diomedes, in a way that is not threatening, to take him by the arm. "You won't be able to cover this up!"

She looks away, away from him and Diomedes. Then she looks up at all the women, still hanging like jewels. "Get down, you useless lot of fools." she mutters at them darkly. She levels a scowl in every direction but that of the son of Brand (who she does not look at all). "We're finished here."

The spell over the rest of the creatures are broken, they begin to move about whatever errands there is for them to do.

Diomedes will lower the blade that is still near Lord White's neck and will allow the warrior to take him by the arm and lead him. He doesn't say anything, but regards the defeated White Lord and the mysterious Saffron silently and pensively.

After a few quiet moments with what appear to be more important members of this strange crew, Saffron will turn to look at him. All around, the odd pageantry and side-show quality of the event seems to be dissipating.

She walks to him slowly, and looks up to his face seriously.

"You acquitted yourself well," she starts. "We'll hold to the terms and take our ship elsewhere." She turns to regard the bank of the river where the town is. "When you return, if you tell them to loose the waters, it will speed our departure."

Diomedes gives a thoughtful nod. "It will be done, I will see to it, and you will be sped back to the End of All Things." Diomedes sighs. "Lord White did not know my mind on that matter. Perhaps one day I will journey to see it. I'd like that. But not today."

"Lord White doesn't know a great many things," she adds sharply, "but he may be reeducated."

She looks away for a moment. "But now.." she says softening her tone just a fraction, "now I have a Ship to get back in order after far too much self-indulgence."

Saffron looks back at him. "Perhaps I will see you there, if you ever come. Perhaps our paths will cross again."

She leans up and kisses him quickly on the mouth. She doesn't let it be a long and lingering one, but it is what it is nevertheless. "There, a nicer one than before. For your trouble. You should claim some prize after all." She lightly shoves him then, to where the rope ladder hangs by the deck. "Now go. Go while you can. Before anyone changes their mind and thinks to keep you here.. and while.." she hesitates, "..while honor still rules the day."

Diomedes blinks in surprise at the kiss, but moves in the direction of momentum, to where the rope ladder waits. He turns, regards Saffron, the crew and the wondrous ship one final time before descending the rope ladder toward the water. Trusting in his blade, he places it tip down into water, and watches as the ice bridge forms again, leading him toward the shore. Diomedes walks on it, toward the waiting townspeople, not looking back at the ship as he strides away.