Tam'nýer-a'

Xanadia Zara Zûtran waited impatiently in a small stone house near the outskirts of the small village outside the boundaries of ZàÞça. No one in the village knew who she was, at least that is what she believed. If any of them were privy to the truth, her entire plan would backfire on her. There would be retribution, for her, to pay. Well, not her, but the one she was seeking assistance from would receive the brunt of her mother’s ire when this deception was brought to light.

The villagers were unaware of what her presence here could or would mean for them. This should keep them safe from whatever backlash or repatriation was to be had. Their ignorance was the only thing keeping them safe. She was lightly biting on the edge of her thumb as she waited. The seconds seemed to stretch into minutes. The young woman was now half a Tam'nýer—a'n year and 1 Tam'nýer—a'n month old and her studies in bladework was slow. Xanadia took a great risk in reaching out to the one man she felt could help. One that she could manipulate into helping her.

“He better come,” she said with a small click of her tongue.

Xanadia went over the details of her letter in her mind. The letter would hold a very faint scent that her mother often used. Vellum was her paper of choice. It would be protected from the more harsher elements such as rain or the ocean. She went to great lengths to secure her mother’s seal in order to send the letter. It was returned to where it was held after sealing the letter. Everything needed to look official in order for her ploy to work. Xanadia had even taken a great deal of time to study her mother’s handwriting. She needed everything to be perfect. This was going to be her one opportunity to gain the sword skills she needed to hunt down her father’s killer.

Her eyes flitted towards the door as it creaked open. Who would be standing behind the doorway? Would it be her mother? Or perhaps her brother discovered her plot? She hoped it would be the one man she was practically begging to meet with her.

He had meant to enter the abode silently, but no such luck. He had ordered attire just for the occasion; a costume of modest clothes -- drab in earth tones of olive greens, with a hooded robe of khaki browns -- which he hoped would attract as little attention as possible. Crossing the threshold, he took notice of a figure already inside.

"Hello there," he removed his hood after the brief greeting. A shock of red hair and furry ears now replaced it. "Lady Xanadia Zutran, I presume?"

He was not worried about her identity; only that certain properties be observed, such as introductions. At the summons of her mother he was here. So he had little doubt that any and all action would be carefully scrutinized and sent to her by this young dark-haired female.

"Tos'Mõrtani To'mássœ, Eldest of the Family To'mássœ," he spared her a small but polite bow, "I am here, by request of Madame Zara Zutran, who's seen to this arrangement, in the interest of your safety and that of the Zutran Family... no doubt this is a lot to process, especially for a first meeting. Though it is a pleasure, to make your acquaintance"

The 2 year old Khah had known the Zutran family primarily through Zara's mother and husband. Both of which had passed, in regrettable and untimely ways. Relations with the then newly made Madam of the Family had been quite frosty as of late; to his chagrin. He had fond personal memories and had been an admirer of both the recently (and not so recently) deceased members. Naturally, he would champion them, in the capacity of a martial tutor. Anything to help a family fallen on the hardest of luck.

Xanadia would need to be very careful with her word to not tip off the male that something or anything was amiss. Her mother did not arrange this meeting. In fact, her mother would have no idea about this meeting. Xanadia made certain to return everything to its proper place before doing attempting anything else. It was not difficult to sneak away from the house. Her feet carried her towards the meeting house in the village. She needed to keep up the pretense that her mother arranged and masterminded this entire thing. Xanadia gave a small nod of her head, confirming her identity, when he asked for her name. She remained silent until he was finished with his little speech. To anyone else this may have been a little much to take in. However, for her this was expected and planned.

Her own attire while somewhat fancy would not hinder her practice or training. The fabric had plenty of room to breath and in no way hindered her movement. It would serve its purpose well for training garments. Xanadia kept her hair pulled back so it would remain out of her face. She was pleased with her choice for a tutor. There was truly no one else she could convince to help her. Her thoughts had been consumed with finding her father’s killer and avenging him. This was her first step in making that goal more attainable.

“Yes, my Mother informed me about this arranged meeting. There is no need to refer to me as a Lady Xanadia or as a Zûtran, while we are here. You can simply call me Xanadia, but I won't stop you from calling me anything other than that. This is quite a lot to take in but my mother spoke highly of your martial prowess with a blade. She has assured me you will be both diligent and discreet about our training. Can I count on this to be true? Will you teach me to the best of your ability and act with discretion?”