[b]“No?”[/b] For an instant, East was actually surprised, before she quickly smothered such an emotion under a veil of neutrality. [b]“No.”[/b] Aiv's flat reply cut through the air once again, as he looked the witchmother straight in the eye. For a minute, an awkward silence ensued over the massive pit that the four witchmothers gathered over, before it was broken by the laughter of South. Soon, her crew joined her in this moment of hilarity, waves of laughter filling up that hole in the ground. North, seeing this, grimaced, before arching an eyebrow at East, still maintaining as straight of a face as possible. [b]“Your guest, then, seems like he'd wish to be treated as one.”[/b] [b]“Yes...”[/b] East said, pointedly ignoring the uproar from South, [b]“Please give me a moment...”[/b] And with that, she grabbed Aiv by the arm, and tried to drag him back into the dollhouse on top of the snake's head, taking long, fast strides. Tried...and failed. It was the most curious sensation, of clearly feeling the softness of the flesh, yet the resistance of a statue that was rooted to the scaly ground. She tried to walk forward, but her feet just kept on sliding backwards, as if she walking in a wheel. A pointless endeavor. Turning back at the impassive, green-eyed swordsman, she frowned, and said, with as much sincerity as she could muster, [b]“Please?”[/b] Only then did Aiv follow her back into her house. --- The first incident in Dansila was a break-in of a hidden library, in which a document written by a future witchmother, regarding the intricacies of summoning, was stolen. Within that essay was a theory that hypothesized that it would be possible to summon anything, as long as the 'catalyst' used was strongly tied to the monster or person in mind. The second incident was the destruction of Burrow, done by a person who could utilize both elemental and summoning magic. Through the double-invocation of Hell Drop, the underground city was promptly demolished, and the resulting thunderstorm, almost all of Burrow's population disappeared. The field agent knew of only one witch that utilized Hell Drop before, and he was sure that she wasn't that strong before. Her prodigy? Or did she gain a different source of power? The third incident, though, appeared to be most closely associated with the first. The capital of Dansila, Cykes was attacked by a combination of two abnormal rift-beasts, as well as a multitude of summoned monsters. However, uncharacteristic of witch attacks recorded in the past, there was no witch, or coven of witches, who claimed responsibility. Was this implying that all witches had a hand at this? Or was this related to the incident a few months back? There was a person out there who had the ability to summon rift-beasts, who must have refined their summoning skills utilizing a thesis written by a witchmother. Esace massaged the bridge of his nose slowly, as he poured over heaps of documents from the archives of Dansila, originally reserved for the exclusive usage of those associated with the Sidosa Board. Corinkarus and Tanith, for the time being, were still presumed missing, but most have assumed that they had died that night, swallowed whole by some monster or the other. There were reports about some sort of liquid monster that freely controlled its body, and another of a wyvern that appeared to grow more 'whole' as it absorbed talentium. It was related to that white beast that had appeared in Bakery Town, wasn't it? The unwhole one. But in that case, what made these things unwhole? And would that mean that, in these lands, there were others that were going through the same changes as Araki? And if that was the case...Esace recalled how extraordinarily quickly that Crystalla had grown, both in strength and size, to the extent that he was PRODUCING talentium of his own. Was that the true intentions of whomever was behind this? Talentium was life, so that meant that...the perpetrator was creating an elixir of life, of liquid power. Well, it wasn't like that changed anything. Esace was still going to hunt him down. --- As they trekked up the gradual slope of Hanzen mountain, meeting no sort of opposition on the way up, Rilolia couldn't help but feel...completely, absolutely, and utterly impatient. She was most definitely tired, but at the same time, she was restless. After such a long time, Vance was finally close, and yet, they were taking their time walking up, occasionally stopping in order to avoid some sort of magical detection trap. No doubt, there were even more of those sensors up in the air, but it still didn't change the fact that she would very much like to just scatter into the air and fly, turning into a black swarm, becoming a legion of eyes that would find her friend. The faster they located the dishonored Astopolian, the better wasn't it? He was just a human, after all, and she had learned from her parents at a very young age just how fragile those mortal beings were. Death by existence. It was a terrible thought, and the purple-haired vampire shivered once more, clutching at the jewel that hung around her neck, hoping that he had not yet broken under the punishments of his fellow countrymen. Yazu, on the other hand, was simply being...well, Yazu. Oblivious to the tense pressure that filled the atmosphere of the group, the cursed elf treated everything like it was a picnic, merrily bouncing around and taking in sights that she had never been privileged to see before. The eternal spring of Astopol had done well to foster the growth of the trees in Hanzen, and their new company, a maid that seemed to know everything about the going-ons of the world, was quite welcome, in her eyes. With a hum, a skip, and a flourish, she went up towards the head of the group, seemingly invulnerable towards the harshness of travelling. And, in the back of the group, as the trees began to become sparse and the atmosphere thinned, as it became clear that they were getting ever-closer to the location of those 'cells', Lenz, obscure at the back of the group, produced a card from his sleeve, drew it over his face, and disappeared. --- The movements of the group were, as they should have expected, noticed by those who silently kept watch over the mountain-cells of Hanzen. While they did a remarkable job of dodging the majority of the sensors that were placed within the forest, what they failed to notice was just how far-reaching those sensors were. With an entrance as dramatic as an airship landing in a ninety degrees angle to the ground, it would be pathetic if the wardens of such a high-security jail were unable to notice it. On the sheer side of the mountain were a variety of gaping holes, perhaps remnants of tunnels from the times where the mountain was once whole. Laced with illusion magic, these caves served jointly as the sleeping quarters and offices of the warden-knights that guarded the mountains. Lightly armored men and women, they were both expert mountaineers, as well as merciless warriors. In the innermost section of the cave system of Hanzen, a mage in her thirties powered up the communications system of the prison guards once more, a complicated array of runes that acted as a relay system for whatever thoughts or sights experienced by all the guards. Alongside her were two sentries, already gearing themselves up in order to scale the mountains. The young men had already equipped the silver-gold half-helm characteristic of those who served this mountain, and, their thoughts ringing in her head, marched off. With a fearless jump, followed by an accurate throw, they secured their safety line on the side of the mountain, and began to scale upwards. As more guards began to arm themselves, slinging shields over their back, buckling swords to their belt, the mage felt a familiar thrum as the network of minds grew larger, filling with more sights. It was her job to bring up the most valuable visuals to the attention of her allies, as well as provide coordinates for magical attacks from the few spellcasters that were in a separate cave system. A difficult, mind-boggling one, but one that she enjoyed, and which paid well. There were only ten guards on the mountain at any given time, including herself, but number was truly just there as a formality. After all, they were within the range of the God of War, Einzershalt, perhaps one of the only long-ranged Gods of War on this side of the continent. [i]There is a party of 14 approaching the cells. Take care, stay hidden, and don't engage until their target is ascertained.[/i] --- Soon, it was clear to Fion and Riley JUST where they were supposed to meet up with the hunting party. After all, it WAS pretty hard to overlook the crowds of well-wishes and the odd, miniature airship that was present. A variety of war horses, managed by a group of well-dressed animal handlers, formed a barricade of flesh that kept the crowd separate from those who were actually intent on joining. They were at the end of the trail left by one of the rift-beasts. Once, those streets were narrow, but now, it appeared as if a giant had swept through it, leaving only a flattened landscape. After making it through the crowds that gave their blessings and well-wishes, it was also clear just how small the group of actual volunteers were. It appeared that Captain Escellar had been remarkably selective of those whom he actually wished to partake in this mission, as the group numbered only to a dozen or so, excluding Riley and Fion. Few appeared to have been present during the struggles of last night, as their armor and weapons showed no sigh of wear, but their eyes still spoke of a patriotic desire for vengeance. Their weapons appeared not to be made of talentium, but of regular metals instead, shining dully in the light of day. No doubt, these were groups of Sword Skills users who had already grown to the extent that they no longer needed the presence of their weapons in order to pull of superhuman feats. Amongst them was Lucius Courtright, who spared only a passing glance at Fion, before turning his attention back to sharpening a greatsword that already appeared to be razor-sharp. His eyes were that of the dead. It was amongst the mages, those that still bore their talentium instruments, that the elven captain could be seen, leaning against the oddly-shaped airship as he spoke to a young red-headed woman, occasionally smiling and patting one of the cylinder-esque parts of that flying contraption. It took him a few moments to notice the arrival of his old friend, but when he did, Eldren cast a smile towards the duo and waved at them, prompting them to come over.