Lucien, noticing the flit of worry over Martina's face, did exactly what he'd been trained to do as a (hopeful) sorcer-type. Namely everything in his power to put her mind at ease.

And hardly half way.

"That is alright," he declared, voice chiming with childish sincerity. "My family and I are happy to be of assistance to those in need! Umm, as for Aethies..."

Well, that was a bit like explaining a fish to someone who lived in a desert and in the interests of being succinct, and of not having a better idea, Lucien turned to the thread of shade where he had last seen his retinue and made a bubbling whistle. "Oh Pip! I know it's sunny out, but could you come here, please? I need some..."

A dark shape shot out of the underbrush, winged Lucien's head, zinged around a tree and returned to sit squarely on the top of his head.

"...help."