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Tolmeron hands Charlie a bag of thrones to give to Claude. "The gloves are from a cult. It's more than likely to be a trap, so I'm afraid I cannot allow you to duplicate them. If your cousin desires gloves so badly, she can acquire some on her own."

Charlie sighs. "I really didn't want to have to do this. Well, I suppose i did try to resolve it diplomatically, but you soldiers are all the same, all orders with no thoughts of your own." She sighs once more, pulling up a digital window, an image of the box, it's contents and most of the information coming up. "I do thank you for standing still long enough though. The scan took a bit longer than i thought."

"Insolent little--! If your father was not standing here I would have you punished for speaking to an Angel of the Emperor in such a manner." Feeling the thirst rising within, Tolmeron takes some deep breaths to calm himself and not let it overwhelm him.

Charlie pouts a little. "Oh no, poor little angel. Why should I hold any respect for you other than my upbringing to show respect?"

"As I said before, my cousin clearly needs those gloves. I am my mothers and fathers daughter, and I do not intend to leave a beloved family member in need."

Seeing that Tolmeron was clearly being pushed, Messinius steps in. "The fact that your cousin specifically wants those gloves indicates that whatever power lies within them has taken a hold of her."

Charlie glares at Vitrian. "I suggest you leave this subject be, now. I will not allow you to talk like that about Claude. Should anything happen, then I shall take full responsibility, but I do believe that I can handle something such as Cultist gloves far better than you and your military."

The uncle raised a brow, a soft smirk appearing on his face. "I would prefer whiskey, you can keep the wine."

Lucania muttered something underneath his breath and closed his eyes, resting his chin on his uncle's shoulder.

"Once again, sorry for the trouble my nephew might have caused." The uncle added.

It's Messinius's turn to be offended, and he glares at Mathius. "Control your offspring, or you will not have the support of my chapter in this campaign."

Charlie glares once more at Vitrian. "I do not need, controlling, as you say it. I am doing what I see is right, and should I cult try to play any tricks, or harm my cousin, I will deal with them myself, and see to it they are never seen in the existence of history again."

Where did Volitivo go anyway?
Did he leave? Or was he somewhere in the bar?

If someone looked for him, they would find him underneath a table, still making origami things out of the extra camp flyers, unaware of the cultist talk drama.

(Why did that make me laugh?)

A spasm of rage crosses Messinius's face, and he angrily puts his power fist through the bar, leaving a large hole. He then turns and storms out. "You will no longer have the help of the White Consuls in dealing with these cultists and their false goddess."

Charlie types a few things on a second window, repairing the broken bar. "Ugh, Soldiers, All the same, always demanding respect as if they are entitled to it, even when not deserved."

"Leave it, Charlie. Thanks to the kind gentleman," Claude points out Tolmeron, "I have found betta business."

"It's really no problem. He isn't the first teen to attempt to buy booze in here," Claude said to Luca's uncle. "In exchange for your choice of whiskey, I was wondering if you could make some gloves for me."

(I got no idea what the gloves do. Charlie is simply trying to help out claude. It's fine.)

(That as well.)