Teveriel (prime)/A Focusing Task

The Erithian water-stone ran along the slender, curved blade, the hand that wielded it keeping a steady rhythm. Schiiiink. The current of the Mistydeep underscored the scraping percussion, babbling placidly by the dock -- but Teveriel Anduin's blood simmered. The letter he'd received explaining the Legionnaire's plan did little to assuage the anger that still smoldered behind his steel-grey eyes, but the repetitive action of honing his blade did serve to help him focus his mind.

The situation with the brigands was vexing, not least of all because the matter of permanent defenses remained stalled in the Regents' council chamber. It was a cause he himself had championed since construction on the port was still underway, and now he found his concerns justified on multiple levels. He was confident that his wife, left alone in Ta'Nalfein to deal with the Eastern Seaboard Collective, would bear some fruit. The idea of the Gilded Talon Consortium providing a stop-gap for private security may well ease their concerns. Still, while their fleet was considerable, it was far from omnipresent. Not to mention that every bit of manpower they expended for this was a loss in profitable trade. A small price to pay for the Realm, the elflord reminded himself, albeit grimly. The time would come for the Realm to give him his due.

Schiiiiiiiink, went the whetstone. Whatever might come next, he would be ready.