Gareth looked up at Sophia. "I'm ready." Rising from his seat, he vowed to Sir Tyler with a bow of respect. "I will see through to her safety." Harker really wanted to sleep in his own bed, but he supposed that since Sir Tyler was taking off for the night he'd keep watch and stay in Sophia's quarters. He highly doubted he'd want to stay in his room anyway; it looked really ugly by then with the blood on the door and the floor and the broken glass everywhere, and it was probably going to be the subject of some cleanup. However, the chance of actual rest was slim in comparison to the looming desire to stay awake with eyes wide open detailing the room.

The trio made their way out of the Great Hall and towards Sophia's quarters. The corridors seemed darker, and quieter than usual, even if it was very late. Both Eva and Sophia remained quiet for the entirety of the walk. After a few minutes, they finally came to the door of the Princess' quarters. As they reached it, Eva froze, placing an arm in front of Sophia. The door was slightly ajar, but she was almost positive it had been locked when they left earlier. Her thoughts raced, until she came to a grim realization. Jorun and Alia both had probably come back to the room after they had been released. "Shit..." She muttered under he breath, taking a step forward. After a moment of preparation, she opened the door with a quick shove. The room was completely empty, but it told a story. She noted toppled furniture, as if a struggle had taken place. As she walked into the room, she noticed a shadow in the pale moonlight. A puddle of red just outside the servant's room. She shut her eyes for a moment. Of course it only got worse. She looked in the door, being careful to avoid the pool, and saw a grisly scene within. Blood was spattered across the walls, and on the ceiling. The Tauran cursed to herself. It seemed 'Tagerrung', or whatever he called himself, had looked here first. Eva walked towards Sophia with a frown. "Your Grace..." Sophia bowed her head, her eyes on the ground, though Eva couldn't see them past her hair. "Jorun and Alia... they're dead too, aren't they?" Eva grimaced. "Yes... I imagine he came looking here first. It looks like... it looks like he took the bodies with him." Sophia looked up, her eyes bloodshot from exhaustion and tears. Eva looked towards Gareth. "I don't imagine anyone could sleep here... not like this." As soon as the words were spoken she saw the Princess drop to her knees. She sobbed quietly, her shoulders heaving back and forth. Eva looked towards the girl. She didn't deserve this.

Suddenly, the door of the inn burst open, revealing several guards. However, these men did not the wear the uniform of those that served the King. These were sellswords, mercenaries belonging to whoever they served. Their clients were usually merchant lords. Pff. Those fat traders were so bloody rich that they thought themselves above the law.
"Orders to search this building, under order of the Zaneth family!"
The thug at the table moved his face into shadow. He slightly moved his arm back, signaling to his accomplice across the room. An equally burly man stood up, went to the head of the table and proposed a magnificent toast. Consequently, he dropped his flagon and slapped his fellow patron in the face. What once was a center for revelry and celebration was now - well, still a center for revelry and celebration, just a little more... violent. Half-full flagons of ale and chunks of beef jerky ran amok across the room, similar to their throwers. Just as the thug subtly chucked a wine bottle into the fray to keep things going, two of the guards managed to wade their way through the brawl and towards him. Just as he was about to be recognized, two daggers flew from his right and into their heads. The same hooded figure appeared again, but this time it wasn't as friendly.
"Always making a bloody scene. Get your arse outta here and off the streets. We've got a new assignment for you."

Her head turned when the woman chimed in with a suggestion for alcohol. Ale wasn't really Maria's thing and she was about to say so but before she could open her mouth a frothing glass of ale was set on the counter before her, by the swiftly returning bartender. She was lucky, it was exactly the person she'd been trying to say. "Hey, Ba-" as she tried to hail the man, he'd already disappeared down the counter somewhere. The investigator took a long pull of her drink and sat back in the stool. The ale down south was alright, she'd decided. With her free hand, she accepted Lilian's handshake. "Lily it is. I'm Maria Trinan." And, the merchant wanted her story, of all the people to run into. Trinan was picking her words when a loud command issued across the room. Zaneth family, not the regulars, which meant it wasn't for her. It seemed everything was fine until the familiar sound of a bar room brawl erupted from behind her. Immediately, she figured the two were linked, and decided that whatever the cause for tonight's celebration was she didn't want to be around when some constable came. Maria stood up from the bar stool, taking the cloak from around her shoulders and laying it on the bar. The sheathes inside rattled ominously on the wood, but she wouldn't be using them. She looked over to Lily and spoke, calmly, "I'll tell you a story, so please hold on to this, I need to find some peace and quiet." At that, she turned and shoved her way into the crowd. Whoever the mercenaries entering the bar were, she needed them to be conducting their business elsewhere for the night. As she made her way through the crowd, carefully picking a route between the drunks and the people trying to get away, a flash of movement caught her eye and a bottle then broke over a nearby man's head. Immediately, she was showered by what she knew by taste to be wine. The pristine, white uniform shirt she wore slowly stained in red around her shoulders. Perturbed already, she then saw two of the gentlemen she was looking to talk to grab knives with their heads. Of course, someone wanted to make an even bigger scene. Traceable, unlike the bottle, her head turned to a cloaked man standing, talking to some thuggish type and locked. With a wild elbow, the investigator cut her way through the crowd and made straight for the pair, scowling and wine-covered.

"Alright, alright. Just needa finish off the rest of these Zaneth brats-"
The thug was interrupted by a wine-splattered and obviously disgruntled woman striding towards him. They had to get out fast. The thug's contact shuffled towards him.
"Safehouse Fourteen."
"That's on the other end of town."
"Well, can never be too safe when you stir up a bloody tavern brawl with Zaneth's boys involved, can ye?"
"Right." The thug looked slightly embarrassed. "Sorry." He looked back and saw that his contact had disappeared. He was always the cowardly type. The thug then proceeded to push his way past the woman.

Trinan ran over the situation in her head, willfully ignoring the recklessness of trying to erase an incident this far gone when the easiest thing to do would be to hide her face and disappear. Lily probably would have been perfect for that, someone ready and willing to play cover knowingly or not, and here she was. That was right, she was now covered in wine, so here she was, and besides, she kind of wanted answers for why two men were dead. Before she could reach them, her two targets broke away and it was a quick decision on which to follow when the thug was heading straight towards her. Maria was dumbfounded when the man made to push past her, but she went with it. The man had the right idea, outside was better. Shoved out of the way, she came back forward, throwing her left hand out and making a grab at his shoulder as she followed him towards the door. "Stop yourself," She demanded, voice raised slightly in spite of the roar of the tavern. "You're about to explain why I'm not currently checking into this tavern in peace."

Explain?" The thug laughed a hearty laugh, as he forced the woman's hand off his shoulder. "I don't explain. I ACT." The thug's tone of voice abruptly changed as he forced a dagger to the woman's throat. "Why don't we take this outside?"

The investigator's cold, evaluating glare remained unchanged as the hoodlum before her produced a knife. She busied herself running down the list of possible explanations. Not many people would be so confrontational unless they were inebriated or involved in the same kind of business she was, only without the desire of existing under the radar. Through calm deduction she found the answer she was looking for: she didn't care what his motivations were. However, standing there with a knife to her throat and staring at the man holding it was a good way of keeping her distracted from the situation. She did not recall verbally promising to Thomas Morgan that she would not spill blood in his country, but it would be wrong of an executor of the peace to bring her company to foreign lands unannounced and begin killing people in the streets. Additionally, the promise had always been to herself, she did not want to give in to bloodshed anymore. The man's response was measured, in a way, at least in the sense that she agreed with his logic. Maria Trinan probably looked like a drunk, belligerent girl too addled to recognize danger, in his situation Maria would have probably grabbed a knife too. She smiled faintly, and after a silent moment, replied, "I'm sleeping here, I don't like having the constabulary close by." She wondered what Mullenites actually called the guard, but it wasn't as if she didn't radiate foreigner to begin with. After another pause, she resumed, "Put your knife down, I'm not fighting you. One more time, as a soldier, I want to know why people are dying where I'm staying." She spoke slowly, evenly, waiting for even the slightest flinch from the man. In her estimation, he wasn't about to ruin his chances by attacking another person, but at the same time she didn't exactly want him walking away because then all the trouble would be on her hands. What an unfortunate choice of inn.

After some time rigidly holding the knife at the woman's throat, he finally let it fall. "Lady, what I do involves people dying. I'm pretty sure that you wouldn't want to explain if you were in my place." He picked up his dagger and sheathed it in its appropriate scabbard in his belt. "Now, don't keep me waiting. I don't care who you are, but I assume you know when to get out of the way." With that, he shoved the door open.

In the night, the thug first scanned his surroundings. Clear, clear, cle - no. Two guards - serving the king this time - were heading his way. He withdrew his face into shadow, and waited for them to come closer. With precise timing, the thug hurled his meaty hand at the closest guard and slammed his face against a brick wall. The second guard put his hand on his sword. "No need." Adrian pulled the guard's sword out of its scabbard and slit his throat. He then proceeded to quickly drag the bodies into a dark alleyway, then escaped into the night. He had wasted too much time already. Safehouse Fourteen, Safehouse Fourteen...

Gareth knelt by Sophia, and he put an arm around her. "Please, my lady." He exchanged a worn glance with Eva. "Sophia, we must find other lodgings." He turned an eye to the bloody display, and Sophia and Eva were obviously and unfortunately correct about the deaths of the other servants. No bodies, only blood, as with Jezin, probably. He cursed fate for what was happening, for bringing all of these people to their ends. "Please, dear gods, raise our dead to the heavens." Harker blessed the people who passed with his wishes for their wellness in the afterlife, there on his knees, before he brought himself to stand. They had to move on and find somewhere else to sleep; the group couldn't sleep with the stench of death in the air. It seemed though that nowhere was safe.

Unperturbed and incredibly perturbed, Maria Trinan shoved open the wooden doors of the Crossroads immediately after her target. She wanted her answers and after the business with the Order was quickly growing fed up with the locals. As she barged out into the street, she was just in time to witness the murder, and subsequent disposal of the bodies of two members of the regular guard, bearing their rust colored brigandine and all. Whoever she was looking at had caused more deaths in the city than the previous two days of uninterrupted incident in approximately ten minutes. She rubbed her wine soaked face in frustration and walked up to the dark alley that the stranger had since departed from. Blood spilled, going to be put on her hands. It was over, the time for restraint was done. As an Arcarti Scout she couldn't stand bystander to bloodshed, and as someone desperately trying to stay low key she couldn't let some anonymous thug get away with playing hood games in the middle of her operation. Whoever it was had just butchered two trained guardsmen, but that acknowledged, she'd just got done staring down half of the Order of the Thistle. Trinan sprinted off into the night, following the slight glimpses of the killer she could catch, and the sound of footsteps on the cobblestone in the dead of night. Investigator was becoming a cumbersome title, she was supposed to be finding out why Maria Trinan had been reported dead, not stopping backstreet crime.

"Adrian."
"Guildmaster."
The thug was now sitting in a grimy warehouse dimly lit by several torches. Adrian was seated upon a plain wooden stool, quite contrasting to the lavish golden seat and desk the hooded man at the other end sat on. One look would have plainly told anyone that the desk and seat were obviously not in their rightful place. The Guildmaster's clothing was almost identical to Adrian's contact - who was sitting between them - if it were not for a peaked hood and a maroon lizard emblazoned upon his back.
"I understand that you have just assassinated Merchant-lord Rufus Zaneth, a prominent trader who however used dirty charlatan tricks to acquire quite a bit of his wealth."
Adrian grinned. The mission certainly had been successful.
"But I have also learned from Rat over there-" He indicated Adrian's contact, "-that you started quite a tavern brawl at the Crossroads Inn. Rat was forced to murder two of Zaneth's men, earning you quite a high profile among the common folk and most probably the authorities."
Adrian's smile dissipated.
"I, however, have given you a chance to redeem yourself. I've got another job for you. The reward is the usual bounty doubled and information."
"What kind of information, Guildmaster?"
"About your mother."
Adrian stiffened. How had they acquired such information? How did they even know his mother was alive? How did they-
"So, what do I need to do?"
"Adrian, have you heard of this... this thing called the Taggerung?"
"What's that?"
The Guildmaster did not appear as confident anymore. His voice sank to a whisper and he drew Adrian in closer.
"It's this monster, a feral beast that stalks this land. It's horrible. Few people dare call it by its real name - Cain."
At the last word, time seemed to stop.
"Our sages have studied this monster for a long time. We think that we might be able to... to train it. If we manage to get hold of it, our guild could triumph above all others. Now, I'm pretty sure that you'll need a few extra bodies, so I'm entrusting to you the aid of six crossbowmen, a shadowmage squad, four beastmasters, and of course Rat himself."
A ghost of a smile manifested itself upon Rat's face.
"The boys are out enjoying themselves, but they'll be summoned immediately. While waiting for them, you can relax in that new sofa we pinched over there."

The footsteps had faded, and soon she was only running only to the beat of her own footsteps. People had no doubt already noticed the noise in the more residential areas, as quiet as her boots were on cobblestone, but she didn't care at that point. Trinan was still unarmed, by choice. The shovel clipped to the bag behind her back and the knife tied around her left boot's ankle. Neither would be necessary but that said she was far gone enough to think she was starting the fight if there wasn't one when she got there. Where 'there' was was, for the most part a mystery, as she worked her way around the area where her quarry's footsteps had died away. Someone was cleaning up the mess and it wasn't her. If it came to it, she supposed she could have gone back and talked it out if the guard even asked her questions. Of course they would, and it would mean her way into the palace being jeopardized. Residential buildings, merchant stalls, and a lone warehouse were the contents of the lane if she was cutting her zones right. The only time she'd had to look over a map of ever-growing Mullen was aboard the Roumont at the times when she wasn't over a rail seasick. Stopping a movement short of running her hand through her wine soaked hair, she strode up to the door of the warehouse and knocked, a drawn out, slow three raps upon the door. For a moment, presenting her badge seemed like a good idea, but the voice that told her to pursue in the first place was then suggesting that it remain a problem between two bar patrons.

A lookout at one of the dust-ridden windows suddenly sign-languaged to the Guildmaster. The Guildmaster looked alarmed, then abruptly calm. He then turned to Adrian, who had just briefly experienced the pleasures of the new sofa.
"Adrian... are you sure you weren't followed?"
"Uh..." Adrian sat up. Oh, no. It couldn't be. That bar girl... "No, Guildmaster."
Unfortunately for Adrian, the Guildmaster saw the subtle faltering in his voice and rounded on him. "You lazy, worthless, inefficient-"
"I'll take care of it, boss," Rat chimed in. He didn't want any more trouble, especially if the integrity and secrecy of Lizard Guild was about to be jeopardized. He swiftly scaled the wall and kicked open the window directly under the main door. He dropped down, turned around and drew his daggers at the intruder. "Steady, steady now, child. You're about to tell us how and why you decided to come knocking at death's door."
As soon as he said that, black cloaks surrounded the immediate vicinity. Some wielded crossbows, some wielded spears and nets. Hmm. These had to be Adrian's men.
"Perfect timing, boys. Now help me get this girl inside."
One of the cloaks politely opened the door for Rat and the intruder, revealing the interior of Safehouse Fourteen.

The investigator remained firmly planted where she'd been standing to knock on the door. Her drab greens eyes were bright in the dark as they slowly passed over each of the figures that had arrived to surround the two by the door. Street thugs, perhaps slightly better outfitted, all the same she cataloged the variety of armaments levied against her and sized up her odds. Trinan's face drew as she contemplated death for a moment, and then the lively manifestation of one of the nicknames she'd left Erschald with: Trouble. The death toll, however, would be inexcusable, this wasn't one street thug but a fairly large assortment. A frown broke out across her face, she was disappointed and then upset with herself for being disappointed. Well, there was no sense being dishonest with the cloaked men now. "I should tell you the same, keep them steady," she said flatly, locking eyes with the man who'd appeared first. She eyed the open door for a moment, taking stock of her options before committing. "Let's trade questions then," she concluded, and strode forward into the building. This would be one for the logbook, the captain's night on the town. Even in the dark recesses of the building she was walking into, she could hear the coming laughter of her XO. Whatever awaited, she was resolved on one thing: Those bodies weren't taking care of themselves, especially not when they were practically framing her following the incident at the palace.

Tears continued running down Sophia's face as Gareth put his arm around her. She looked towards the boy, her eyes stinging with salt, and hugged him, a new wave of sadness rushing over her. For a few moments her crying was the only sound in the room. She'd been trying to compose herself for too long. Eventually her willpower had just given out. After a while, her sobbing subsided, and she released her friend. "I'm sorry for that... you're right, we've got to find somewhere else..." Gareth said a prayer for the dead, something she appreciated. She slowly managed her way to a standing position, her knees wobbling. "But where will we go?" No one seemed to know the answer to the question.

Lily had frowned as the bar fight behind her started. Something always had to get in the way. No matter, it'd been a boring few days, perhaps a little chaos would liven it up. She was surprised when Maria threw her cloak on the table and charged headlong into the fray. Despite the noise, she noticed a loud metallic clank when the cloak landed. The merchant glanced curiously at the garment. "Yes, I'll hang on to it for you." She turned on the bar stool, watching the encounter behind her closely. Eventually, Maria pursued one of the thuggish men she had noticed earlier out the door. She pondered the subject for a moment. Following the woman was certainly an option, but it was an option that would probably lead to dangerous circumstances. She glanced through the fray, noticing a redheaded woman sitting in the corner reading a book, despite the cacophony going on around her. The woman didn't look up, but shook her head very slightly. Well, it was settled, she wasn't going anywhere. The merchant turned back around, pulling Maria's cloak closer to her and taking a swig of ale. Hopefully the brawl would die down soon.

Gareth sighed. "I suppose we find some authority." Most of the guard, however, had mobilized to other parts of the city to perform various tasks, and the Order seemed their last option. The regent was in the dungeon, the palace guard was gone, and the Order was still in the castle. Harker exited the room, and he peeked his head about the corridor, left and right to gamble on which path to take around the palace to find someone who could lend them a room, even though it didn't particularly matter. Moonlight and torches and candles lit the area dim, and the half-elf admitted to himself that things felt a little eerie.

Rat was surprised at the girl's lack of faltering, but she entered willingly making no noise and that was most important. The cloaks disappeared into the shadows, awaiting instructions. Rat sat the girl down on a plain wooden chair and bound her wrists and ankles, just in case. Adrian made a move to stand up, but the Guildmaster rounded on him again. "Sit your BLOODY arse back down, Kelzhar. You've already proven yourself much too inefficient."
Rat giggled slightly at that, but he kept his trap shut when the Guildmaster started pacing around the captive. "So. To trade questions, eh? I have two. One: who are you? And two: could you give me a reason why I shouldn't let my boys chuck you over the harbor with a millstone tied to your neck?"

"Right." Sophia looked towards Gareth, agreeing that they should find somewhere to stay. She turned towards the doorway, but stopped, turning on a heel. "No, wait, there's one thing I wanted to get..." She walked back into the room, and opened the door that led to what had been Jezin's quarters. The room was dark, but she quickly found what she was looking for. Sitting on a nearby table was a helmet made of a brass-colored metal with a long red plume protruding from it's top. If Taggerung had taken Jezin the way he'd evidently taken Jorun and Alia, his body would probably never be seen again. The helmet was the only reminder of the man who had protected her. She picked it up and walked back out of the room, cradling the mass of metal beneath her arm. She returned to Gareth in the corridor. "Do you think anyone would even lend us a room?" With the state of things, she found that unlikely, though maybe someone would show them mercy. She felt fatigue beginning to take hold of her, and her eyelids felt heavy. Every time they shut though, she saw that face, staring into her soul.

"I hope so." Gareth began wandering down the halls of the castle, trying to find some open office. He shivered while he thought about Jezin's helmet being his remains and the empty palace lacking any presence. Harker could barely keep his eyes open and moved lethargically through the building, for he could think about none other than sleep. If he could just rest, he could clear his mind for a new day and get the terrifying images out of his head, at least for a while. Because of all that happened time seemed to pass slowly for Gareth, feeling like a few minutes were many hours and whole days were entire months. The agonizingly sluggish pace of things killed him on the inside and allowed all of the anguish to fester. This night in particular exuded an aura of eternal torment.