“It shall be as you require, Lady,” Fetrese acquiesced with a slight bow. “The acolyte previously assigned you shall continue to serve you for as long as you require it. I shall personally see to it that she delivers the message to Master Magnotta. As for the poison, we will deliver news of its deconstruction as soon as it is delivered us. You are, of course, always welcome at any service—do you require robes, slippers? No? Then we shall leave you in your prayer and look for your face among the faithful.”
Caterina gave a slight nod of assent, her thoughts already turned inward on the problem before her. An attack on her person, that may have had her death as its goal, but a specific death that somehow seemed more sinister than death itself. Caterina had no fear of death itself; having given herself over to Rydor in avenging her family, her life was no longer hers, and was Rydor’s to end when she no longer served. No, meeting D’hurgen would be a release, a final gift of grace from Rydor’s hand, but the paladin feared that the poison would not have killed her, but bent her to another’s will, one strong enough to block clerical spells. This potential fate, to be used by another, terrified her.

What would paralyze others, however, catalyzed the Right Hand of Rydor, even if it seemed that she was blocked on all directions. She’d only made a few sallies, her opponent had many defenses and attacks, and so she’d simply have to feel them out, one by one.

For now, she needed to strengthen her own defenses, and heed her duty to Rydor. As she made her way through the glorious Great Hall, Caterina felt her fears and worry rise out of her, lifted away and sent spinning into the vaulted ceilings of the temple. The pure white light fell on her dark hair and golden skin, and shimmered in a thousand points of brilliance off her armour, burnished carefully by her own hand before the service. She let the sanctity of the Temple bathe her clean and vowed again that her blood would be shed to its last drop before evil could mar this hallowed place.

The hushed murmur of the faithful greeted her as plainly as a shout, and followed in her wake as she took her place near the pulpit, having accepted another blessing from the Master of the Iron Tomb. She could only hope that she would not distract from the Master’s sermon, sometimes she would have preferred a simple robe and a place in the back pews, but the Hand of Rydor honoured the Temple with her presence, and to not stand at Fetrese’ side would have been a slight to his prestige that she would not countenance. Instead, she locked her knees in the soldier’s way so that she could focus all her attention on the service, and not feel the protest of an active body forced into stillness.

Just as food and wine fed the body, so did the stately ritual and measured words of religious service feed the soul, and Caterina, in her worried state, hungered to fill the uneasiness within. Fetrese was indeed a master of the service, and Rydor's Handmaiden listened carefully to his wisdom.

After the service, Caterina lingered by Fetrese' side as some of the townspeople and nobles attending the service approached to exchange greetings and other pleasantries. Some she knew from previous visits, others she was able to recognize by the markings of their noble houses (Had Ethain been there, he'd have whispered into her ear those she did not remember - her heart squeezed in pain at the sudden memory). Each was greeted with polite grace and a solemn mannner, and a few may have eyed the black border on her overtunic, but all were too awed to ask anything personal.

After she'd spent a carefully measured time to be respectful of her visitors, Caterina quietly made her farewells and left the temple, hoping for word that Magnotta would see her that evening.


(OOC: I think it will be easier if I break my post into pieces, rather than wait for a lengthy time to read all the posts, then craft a suitable one of my own)

Rico’s steady gait carried them through the wet streets, and the little dunn ridden by Jenora kept pace, just far enough back to avoid being splashed by Rico’s hooves. The big warhorse was restive, wanting another good gallop, but knew better than to pull at his bit while still in the city.

“Lady Aguila D’Oro,”, called a deep voice from within the gates outside Magnotta’s estate, and a bear-like man stepped forward into the lamplight. “It’s been a long bit o’ time now, hasn’t it, my lady?” the big warrior grinned, then winced when Rico nearly took his hand off at the wrist.

“Usachar, you must be getting old, to mistake one of the Aguillera D’Oro horses for some common mount,” Caterina smiled to remove the barb from her comment. When Usachar looked past her, clearly searching for Ethain, Caterina shook her head, her smile slipping. Usachar himself grimaced at the news, but brightened at the sight of Jenora on her pert little horse.

“My lady,” he grinned at Caterina once more. “My master awaits you in the main house. Been a bit like a blizzard about here ever since that young thing came knockin’ to let us know you’d be gracin’ these halls once again. A bit of a blizzard to be sure, but its calmed down—eye o’ the storm-like—for close to half a turn now.

“Need I direct you to the stables—I thought not.” The large man chuckled in his gruff way as he stepped to the side allowing Rico to step lively through the gate.

Caterina made a point of handing Rico’s reins to young Ebrai, holding the man’s hands with her own under the big stallion’s nostrils until Rico had gotten Ebrai’s scent. She then uttered a single word to Rico (“Rest”) and the ferocious battle mount ducked his head meekly enough to wiffle the hostler’s clothes, looking for an apple or some other treat.

She stayed for a few minutes, watching the young man care for the two animals, until she realized that her presence (and likely, that of lovely Jenora) was distracting the shy young man, and making his job twice as difficult. She excused herself then, and made her way to the house.

People’s Ward | Old Pen’s Stable | The City of Davnor | Sendria | Claise 23rd, Teladay, 452ER, 11:57pm | Partly Cloudy and Snow-Covered

The Lady Solan stood silently for the space of a few heartbeats, her emerald eyes half hooded in consideration. The night was cold, but her gown was of a light material and in the soft glow of the firelight, Shiften could make out the small shadow of her navel through the cloth, the cut of which was just as enticing as that which he’d witnessed within the painting. The only thing missing was the way the emerald pendant he could practically sense within his bag drawing one’s eye to the cleavage of her pressed breasts.

So the two studied each other: Lady Solan an impassive statue of godlike beauty, and Shiften a suspicious and patient man waiting for the bait. With a soft, disarming smile, Lady Solan was the first to break the silence.

“You’ve nothing to say?” she asked with a slight tilt of her head that presented her question so coyly. Her eyes narrowed a little as she regarded him, the smile still on her stunning face. “I set a trap to lure the Empire’s best second-story man into my clutches only to offer you the opportunity to save the people of your homeland from being ruled by the undead and asking him to pilfer an item called The Catalyst from Her grasp, allowing you to keep a priceless bit of jewelry—a bit that would allow any normal man the opportunity to retire to a life of luxury, surrounded by adoring women who would do his every bidding—and you sit like a prisoner before the interrogator?

“Perhaps I’d overestimated you. Perhaps I’d heard incorrectly. Perhaps you not capable of that which I ask, and now you sit estimating the plausibility of escape while still trying to reap some profit from this association.”

The Lady Solan walked very slowly about the left shoulder of Old Pen and swept in front of him with a ghostly rustle of silks. Sinking seductively to the old man’s lap, she used him as a seat, reclinging against his chest, some of her midnight black hair catching up in his bristles.

“This is a one-time offer, Shadowfriend,” he voice was a purr as she languidly stroked the side of Old Pen’s rough face with long fingers. “I walk away tonight, and you’ll ne’er hear from me again, but opportunity will never knock on your door again either. So I will repeat the question, in case you’ve grown addle-brained for some fool reason:

“Will you infiltrate Amer’Loc, the stronghold of the Lich Queen, and steal The Catalyst for me earning your place in the Histories that are about to be written? Or, will you fade into anonymity to be lost to History as a footnote? Will you aid your people, or will you allow so many more to die, or worse! Live fruitless lives at the whims of a cadaver?

“I’ll take an answer now, Walker of Shadows. For I grow weary of this; and as entertaining as this evening’s games have played out my patience is not eternal.”

The wood of the stable suddenly sprang to life with the sounds of hundreds of heavy raindrops and hail.

People’s Ward | Old Pen’s Stable | The City of Davnor | Sendria | Claise 24th, Viladay, 452ER, 12:02pm | Cloudy, Snow-Covered, and Storming

---

The Palace District | The King’s Palace | The City of Ethryn | The Kingdom of Ertain | Claise 24th, Viladay, 452ER, 7:32am | Partly Cloudy and Snow-Covered

Strongblade had ignored Lloyd’s acerbic demeanor at the onset of their meeting dismissing it as the frustrations of a man who’d been awakened too early, and something that Lloyd would hopefully correct when he fully recognized he was in the presence of his king, but when the request had been answered as though by a simple street thug, using the language associated with the Street, the king of Ertain drew up straight and regal in the pale morning light.

“I will caution you, but once Lloyd vonSchtreider,” Jarom’s voice was filled with steel he’d drawn as though it were the blade he’d become so well known for. The weariness and grief were lost from his brooding eyes replaced by impassioned fire. “You are in the presence of your king, and though I put my people and my land before me I will not be spoken to with such disrespect as you’ve deigned to display on this gray morning. Your reputation precedes you. You’ve done great services for my kingdom in the past. All of this for pay, the same as a mercenary and as a mercenary you are without the common honor of the men you seek to avenge by bringing their killers to justice! You have not earned the right to consider yourself equal to those I surround myself with, but I pray to Rydor that you are equal to the task at hand.

“You pretend that I do not know the lengths by which you will be forced to bring about this justice, and think that I am unfamiliar with the methods of necessity, but I am as practiced at this art of politicking as I am at the art of war, and at this moment, Lloyd von Schtreider, I am presenting you with the opportunity to do something beyond yourself; selfless and patriotic, as alien as that concept may be to you.”

Jarom Strongblade’s jaw muscles clenched and his brow furrowed as he towered over the lesser man, and it was with this mighty image standing before him that Lloyd could very well believe the tales of might and strength that accompanied this great king. He was not a man to be trifled with.

“If you take this charge, Lloyd von Schtreider, you will remember that when you show this document and act under my power, you are representing me, and I will not look kindly on any wrongful representation. If you take this charge, you will act as you need to in order to accomplish the task at hand, and I’ll not be a shadow over your shoulder to hinder you in your explicit ways, but in the instance you begin to act as a representative of the crown I will be the weight bearing down upon your brow the same as the crown does mine! And I swear, by Rydor, that should there be reason to think such a gift of trust was abused, there will be justice served.”

King Strongblade’s intimidating visage shrunk just a little so as to be imposing, but not debilitating. “I put this before you then, von Schtreider, with my demands as shackles about your ankles so that you may move in pursuit of the murderous cowards who slay my kingdom’s heroes in their sleep, but not run too fast so that you may avoid tripping over your own inflated ego. These are my stipulations, and mine alone. Do not make the mistake of making demands where you hold no position to do so, and do not let what piss-pot you drank from this morn sour your negotiations for a better life. Think carefully on your next words, von Schtreider, for I’ll tolerate very little at this point that is not the utmost of civility and respect.”

The Palace District | The King’s Palace | The City of Ethryn | The Kingdom of Ertain | Claise 24th, Viladay, 452ER, 7:34am | Partly Cloudy and Snow-Covered

Shiften smiled at her. It was the first emotion he'd shown at this meeting, but it was sincere. He was ready to laugh at how easily she had become flustered. He hadn't intended to cause her confusion. Truth be told, it was even more flattering. It told him the real value she placed on him. She had elevated him to near god-like status, and it was an unfortunate ego boost. It was, however, enough of an ego boost that he was willing to take a risk. He was willing to speak to this lady.

It was a whisper, and only that, but it was enough for her to hear. "You've already surmised that I don't speak unnecessarily, and with this level of pomp and circumstance, I only have the yes option, even if I don't intend to follow through with it. So why do you repeat a question to which you already know the answer, when you have yet to provide me with any information necessary to do the task you have asked of me?"

Lloyd realized his mistake once Jarom had taken it upon himself to make his point. He didn't know what had come over him. Always had he given proper respect. But, then again, he had always gotten his prey before. Taking a deep breath, and going down on one knee, Lloyd speaks.

"My lord, your highness, please forgive your vassal for the transgressions he has committed. The loss of my prey that you had commissioned me to hunt down has clouded my vision in ways which I do not wish to be reminded of, nor repeat. If you will accept the apologies of your lowly servant, Lloyd von Schtreider, then I will gladly accept the charge with which I have been given."

In his mind however, Lloyd's thoughts drifted off to another realm entirely. He thought of Cynthia... If he were to find Madius again, he would have to leave her for a long time. And perhaps the sadistic cretins which he was hunting wouldn't be noble enough to leave women out of the fight between the two men. Perhaps...

"King Strongblade, sir, with your graces, I would like to make a simple request. I request that for the duration of my absence, Cynthia be permitted to stay inside the castle, under protection of the guards. I fear that the cretins whom I am searching for would seek to attack her to weaken me, and it would allow me to concentrate more on my task as I would not have to worry about her."

"If that request be acquiesced, then it is with great honour that I accept the charge which you have placed on me. Again, I ask that you forgive my err in judgement earlier. I have simply never let a man get away before, and it has left a sour taste in my mouth, and a cloud over my mind. Forgive me, my lord." Lloyd's gaze is not focused at the King, but on the ground in front of his knee as he knelt before the king. He doesn't dare look up.

People’s Ward | Old Pen’s Stable | The City of Davnor | Sendria | Claise 24th, Viladay, 452ER, 12:02pm | Cloudy, Snow-Covered, and Storming

“Information?” The Lady allowed a ghostly smile to touch her full lips. “I don’t pretend to be involved in the art of burglary. This is why We are hiring you, Sir. The only information I have to give has already been provided. This is Amer’Loc we are speaking of, and even a person such as myself—new to this land—can tell that it is a veritable fortress through the gates of which one only passes if they’ve an invitation, or are in chains. How you propose to get to the Catalyst is completely up to your discernment and best judgment. What the Catalyst is? Well, We’re confident that you’ll know it when you see it, but in case you do turn out to be too blind to tell, the necklace that you have just set yourself up to earn is endowed with a special enchantment that will warm it when within proximity to the Catalyst.”

The Lady Solan swung her legs from Old Pen’s lap and stood in such a manner as to cause Shiften’s mouth to momentarily dry despite his bravado.

“Our discussion has kept me from my guests, and at such a crucial time of the evening,” she lifted her skirts enough to show her dainty ankles—one of which bore a thin silver chain augmented by a series of seven set diamonds—and curtsied as a superior would to a lesser noble. “Good hunting, Shadowfriend.”

There was no pomp, no display of smoke and lights; she simply vanished, and Old Pen’s chuckle sounded against the storm raging outside. The man’s expression grew curious, however, and he cocked his head to one side as he peered at the doors.

“When d’ it start comin’ down?” he mused distractedly.

People’s Ward | Old Pen’s Stable | The City of Davnor | Sendria | Claise 24th, Viladay, 452ER, 12:05pm | Cloudy, Snow-Covered, and Storming

---

The Palace District | The King’s Palace | The City of Ethryn | The Kingdom of Ertain | Claise 24th, Viladay, 452ER, 7:34am | Partly Cloudy and Snow-Covered

The king’s face softened as the request formed, and when Lloyd had finished posturing, Strongblade gave a brief nod of his head.

“These are trying times, and your behavior is not unlike that which I’ve found myself want to do for these past few hours, only for us men—those of us others look to in times of trouble—we cannot afford to lose our composure lest greater things become lost in the chaos that follows.

“Rise up, Lloyd, and accept the document. I’ll have a carriage fetch your Cynthia to our palace where she will be kept as a lady-in-waiting to the Duchess Veldego.”

King Strongblade placed the paper in the bounty hunter’s gloved hand as he rose. He met Lloyd’s gaze squarely as he continued.

“I’ve nothing to offer by way of leads, von Sctreider, though I wish that I did. We’ve whatever detail we can provide at your service during your investigation, for I wish nothing to be a hindrance. Where, and how, would you like to begin?”

As the king spoke, Lloyd heard the door open and the whispers of the captain speaking with someone just beyond, presumably to give orders to fetch Cynthia just as the king had promised.

The Palace District | The King’s Palace | The City of Ethryn | The Kingdom of Ertain | Claise 24th, Viladay, 452ER, 7:36am | Partly Cloudy and Snow-Covered

There comes a time in every man's life when he questions himself. This was not such a time for Shiften. He knew that he had not made a mistake. It was, however, quite clear that the young lady had.

We want you to steal the Catalyst from Amer’Loc. Without it, we will not be able to rid Sendria of their lich-queen. Without it, we will not be able to free the people of Sendria—your people—from their pitiful plight. Will you do this for us, Agent of the Shadows?
She chose to make a showy exit without listening to him, and it was either a mistake or a further ruse. Shiften hadn't figured out which, but he was more than happy accepting the latter. Whatever it was, it meant she would have to track him down a second time. And after he sold the necklace, it was very unlikely she'd be successful. Silly nobility, all you have to do is say "Meet me at X" and hours of conversation and weeks of confusion and missing persons could be avoided. But then, that was more his thing than theirs. Those adept at saying nothing, were always useless.

“When d’ it start comin’ down?” Old pen started talking again after she left. Shiften shrugged and leaned back in his chair. He still had an all-nighter ahead of him, keeping an eye on the newbie. Then he was going to be headed for Amer'Loc. He was going to have to find a wagon-train to tag along with. In any case, he had the company of friends who were now in danger, and he had to find a way to inform Pen before he was too drunk to think, and without his company noticing.

--DM, go ahead and skip forward until Shiften spies an opportunity to speak to Pen privately--

“Lady Aguila D’Oro!” The merchant, Andre Magnotta, bellowed in his jovial, deep voice. “I am both honored and distraught by your arrival. Had I been given notice, I would have prepared such the feast as to impress even those drunken sods living large at the House of Alanus, but as it stands I have a mere five course indulgence consisting of braised duck, imported brandy, and what vegetables the winter stores can spare.

“Come! Come! Let us not tarry here when there is much comfort to be had lounging within the cushions of the dining hall,” Andre was as loud as his outfit as he ushered the paladin and her silent companion into his dining hall.

“Your hospitality knows no bounds, Magnotta, but you should remember that most of it is wasted on my simple palate,” Caterina responded lightly, her eyes crinkling with amusement,” let me introduce you to Jenora, an acolyte at the Temple. Perhaps she will eat enough to be a proper guest at your table.”

They entered the dining room to be greeted by Andre’s wife and youngest daughter. Tara was gracious in her hospitality, as she’d always been, and Orinu stared wide-eyed at the woman dressed so outrageously in a man’s trews and armour. Caterina was accustomed to such study by children, and stared solemnly back before winking and smiling.

Dinner was as sumptuous as Andre has promised, though Caterina, with a warrior’s habit of eating lightly, chose items prepared in the simplest fashion, and drinking her wine well-watered. Jenora had stood slightly behind Caterina as the paladin had seated herself, but Tara had waved over a servant with another setting, and Caterina indicated that the acolyte should also eat. Orinu was seated beside Caterina, and continued her unabashed study of the paladin as the light conversation swirled around the diners. When Caterina spotted the girl trying to make out the ornate script along her sword’s scabbard, Caterina twisted the sword on her belt so that the lamplight shone along the scabbard’s length.

“T’is my name, Orinu, and like any proper noble, I have an awful lot of them: Caterina Luisa Maria Aguila D'Oro. That last part is the name of my house, and it’s old Drannese for Golden Eagle.”

Andre had sputtered when the paladin had mentioned nobility, and the grin on his face was that of a man remembering something fondly. Tara elbowed her husband, as if he’d been rude, but Caterina shook her head and smiled briefly at Tara.

“It is alright, Mistress Tara, an old jest between your husband and my father. Father always said we nobles were as fixated with our own lineage as that of our purebred horses, and the longer the name, the more noble the person. I was named on honour of my mother’s family, and she was very noble, indeed,” the paladin continued, her tone lightly ironic.

“Your mother,” breathed Tara,” I’ve never heard much about her….was she among those..uh,”

“No, my mother died in childbirth, delivering Felipe and I,” Caterina responded lightly,” I was raised by my father and governesses. It’s any wonder I know how to dress like a lady, whenever the occasion calls for it.”

The conversation remained light until dessert had been served, when Andre skilfully turned to the reason for Caterina’s visit. The paladin took a last sip of the small glass of port she’d allowed herself, it’s rich sweetness failing to counter the bitter taste the flooded her mouth. She grimaced, slightly, and turned her eagle’s gaze at Tara.

“My mistress, I thank you for the wonderful meal and warm company. I know Andre shares most things with you, cherishing your counsel, but I will be discussing an unpleasantness that should not be shared with young ears…”

“Of course, Donna Caterina, “ Tara rose gracefuily, the lamplight soft on her still lovely features. “Orinu, isn’t it time for your prayers and bed?”

Once mother and daughter had left, Caterina sat forward on her bench, her social manner and relaxed pose changing into a more serious mien. She looked at andre for a time, considering her words, then decided that simplicity and bluntness would save time she didn’t have.

“Indeed we were attacked, and Ethain was slain. It’s the manner of the attack that concerns me, and I have need of your greater knowledge of the world. Our defenses weren’t breached, Magnotta; someone sent a demon into the Keep to attack me.

“There’s someone out there powerful enough to do this, or powerful enough to have a high wizard do this. Normally, I could come up with a few possibilities on my own, but the demon gave me a name of sorts: The Eloquent Mask of Obarin.

“Have you come across such a name in your travels?

People’s Ward | Old Pen’s Stable | The City of Davnor | Sendria | Claise 24th, Viladay, 452ER, 01:42am | Cloudy, Snow-Covered, and Storming

The storm rocked the stable and caused no end of work for Old Pen, Ruthtundrel, and Tyrugyn in calming the horses whenever the thunder sounded, or the rafters creaked ominously as though the whole roof would cave in. After a few hours, Old Pen dropped heavily to the bale of hay across from Shiften and let loose a long sigh while rubbing his knees.

“I ‘ate nights like t‘night,” Old Pen declared wearily. “Kith-Jora be playin’ a nasty game wit’ me t’night, he is.”

People’s Ward | Old Pen’s Stable | The City of Davnor | Sendria | Claise 24th, Viladay, 452ER, 01:43am | Cloudy, Snow-Covered, and Storming

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The Commerce District | Andre Magnotta’s Estate | The Empire of Drannon | The City of Drefast | Claise 4th, Viladay, 452ER, 8:00pm | Abnormally Warm

Andre Magnotta visibly sank back into the lush cushions, a thoughtful expression on his face. He’d known Ethain since he was a boy, and though he felt the loss, the merchant was above all a practical man, and he knew that Caterina did not live a peaceful life. So, he turned his thoughts to the possibilities his gossipmongers provided, reviewing all that he knew in search of anything pertaining to that which his guest had mentioned. After a few minutes of silent contemplation, he slowly shook his head.

“My Lady, I am distraught at having to report no such name as coming across my ledgers,” Andre turned his bulging eyes towards the paladin. “But there are strange occurrences happening even in my world that could, perhaps, either be odd circumstance, or perhaps something more.

“Though I don’t deal in precious gems, I have some acquaintances that do, and there has been some amazed discussion surrounding the severe increase in the purchase of gemstones of late. It would seem that there are no gemstones left in any market, and the instant any hit the market, they are bought up. Oh, but the stones being purchased are only of the clear kind: diamonds, rubies, emeralds—adding to the mystery. Lapadists are thrilled, obviously, but more than one noble has been put out, and jewelers aren’t able to fill their orders.

“I’ve also heard that—and I apologize for this—the slave trade has increased in demand. Slaves are being bought up all over the realm, and then being marched into the wilderness. I’m afraid that since I don’t deal anywhere near that particular market there’s not much more I can relate there, but, perhaps in relation, stock animals are also being bought up, no expense spared. Oxen, draft horses, even elephants and other exotic animals capable of managing large loads, or displays of great strength. These, too, are being carted off into the wilderness.”

Andre shifted his great belly and twisted slightly in the cushion, his face turning red from the effort. “I’ve also heard that across the land, there’ve been a rash of contests and quests being offered up by rulers that have sent adventurers and champions alike running about like women during Festival. It is a veritable hornet’s nest of activity the realm over, and it has caused me no end of headache. I’m struggling to keep a compliment of guards on each caravan, these quests have got them with gold in their eyes.

“I’m surprised you’ve not heard of this, Donna Caterina,” Andre raised his bushy eyebrows. “It would seem that even our kingdom is not immune to this particular event, though what the specifics are I could not tell you. Many a young man has vacated their post in the city guard, riding caravan, or tending their familial duties to answer the clarion call. It is a sad event if you ask me, though people are talking of it as though it is sent by the gods and will result in great wealth for all who participate—I’ve even heard tell from some financiers that it could result in a shift of wealth—Alanus protect us from such evils.”

The Commerce District | Andre Magnotta’s Estate | The Empire of Drannon | The City of Drefast | Claise 4th, Viladay, 452ER, 8:10pm | Abnormally Warm

Lloyd rose, reached out his hand and accepted the document which Jarom Strongblade held out for him. He took a quick minute to glance at it, get a general idea of what it looked like, then tucked that away inside his cloak.

"My king, I understand what you say. I will do my best to keep my composure and serve you to my fullest potential."

When the king informed him that they had no leads, Lloyd smiled and chuckled softly. "Your highness, you are talking to a bounty hunter here. I often receive no leads. My job is my own, and finding leads is part of my job. No... not job. Part of my life."

"Your highness, today was the first time that I have lost my mark. This is no longer just another job for me... this is quite personal. The fact that Madius has committed such a crime as the murder of Count Urolin merely makes it a better justified hunt. Rest easy your highness. I shall bring this man to you. Only two questions need to be answered, and I will be on my way:

Accomplices as well, or just the murderer?

Dead or Alive?"

(OOC: After receiving responses, I will continue)

"I see. Your highness, I take my leave of your court a humbled man. May his kingship live long and may this city be prosperous. You shall have the man."

Lloyd bowed respectfully and elegantly again, and turned to leave the castle. If he was going to go on a long journey, he needed to speak with Cynthia before he left. She wouldn't forgive him if he didn't.

“I ‘ate nights like t‘night,” Old Pen declared wearily. “Kith-Jora be playin’ a nasty game wit’ me t’night, he is.”

Shiften let out a sigh. More bad news was not what he wanted to give the old man tonight. He had to tell him though, because the old man was now in danger and Shiften couldn't live with that on his conscience. His voice, as always was merely a whisper, but it was just loud enough to be heard over the storm.

"I'm sorry. I came to offer you a chance to leave this life. Instead, I must now tell you that your life will be taken if you don't leave with me."

Shiften was never one to speak 'politician speak' or to add unnecessary words to 'soften' the blow of his speech. Instead, he stated what was necessary and only that. If Pen had questions, he knew Shiften would answer them, of course, but the old man was one of very few people who had actually heard Shiften speak, and he could only hope their long-time friendship held enough trust for Pen to accept the words and move out.

Caterina considered Andre’s words, mulling over the possibilities. That he had not heard tell of the Eloquent mask of Obarin was disappointing, but hardly surprising; t’would almost have been too easy to get such aide so easily. Andre’s news might have seemed interesting irrelevance but for Caterina’s skill at chess. She recognized an opening gambit that would not yield results until the end game – a long series of moves that would seem harmless until all the pieces were in place.

“Our opponent is mustering his resources, and making them scarce for us,” Caterina mused out loud, fingers of her right hand tapping her full lips as she thought. “Gems for mages, I’d wager, and beasts of burden for siege machines and other war toil. Slaves for labor, and adventurers to swell the ranks of an army. “

“We’ve a war in the making, and still no idea of a foe,” Caterina grated, impatience at last beginning to flash behind her eyes.”But, my old friend, we have now a clue. Goods and people are headed into the wilderness, you say – show me on a map, if you will.”