Gareth heard the wine swishing around in the bottle. Sophia was drinking again. This whole ordeal was turning the princess into a heavier drinker than Walden himself. Harker frowned in the dark. "Neither have I." He shivered. Its sewn lips, its patchy and ripped skin... Yes, the details were hard to tear from one's mind, and he remembered them fresh even an hour or two after the mess. But worse yet were the memories of the blood spilled all over the floors of the castle and on its walls and ceilings, the bodies that should've been there but weren't any longer. He shuddered. They became apart of the nightmare that was the Taggerung; they became its new patches of skin to cover up whatever repulsive form was beneath. Still, the story Sir Tyler told them, the legend of the Taggerung and the Lording curse, revealed how unkillable it was. Harker clenched his fist tightly together. "Cain will die."

Jason smirked as he ordered himself his own drink, some brandy from Arcartus. As the glass slid to him, he glanced back over to the woman, "Yes, silver doesn't usually sell well here in Mullen, considering all the silver mines Keilaudrin has." Jason replied, sipping from his brandy. Jason tapped his glass down, and raised a hand to his temple, gently rubbing it as he did so, "There's a good part of Mullen that isn't so generous." Jason smiled, looking back down at his drink, "A lot of faceless people wander the streets, ready to stick their hands into whatever they can." Jason replied, reaching down and taking a sip from his glass, before standing up, "Look to your God, Lily." In a flourish, Jason turned himself around, joined by the woman whom had previously been sitting down at the table, who seemed to had made her way up to the bar without being noticed, and exited the establishment.

---

A man, clad in a black tattered robe and black hood followed close behind Maria. It was unclear when he started following her, but he was silent as he traced her. He could smell the blood from her, and from the look of the girl she had had a rough night. After a moment of silent following, the man spoke up, "You need to clean that wound." The voice was jagged, like steel being dragged across stone. The man froze in his tracks, finishing speaking, and watched the young Arcarti Scout, "You haven't had much luck since you came here, have you?" The voice was once again rough, and grating. It was almost an annoyance to hear, as if the man had a mouthful of stones. The words, despite how rough, cut through the whisperless night air.

The investigator stopped in her tracks, and turned sharply to face the man. The number of explanations for someone approaching her in the night were few and none of them remotely pleasant for someone trying to lay low. She put a hand over her injured forearm as the man addressed it, the attention he gave it made her uncomfortable. His very voice made her uncomfortable, and under most circumstances she would have already left, as her instincts screamed to do. It also raised the unfortunate fact that she had thrown away her only disinfectant for a fire that had obviously gone out, because she wasn't watching it from a rooftop right now. Having some time to walk had put her back towards ease, but she could already feel the tension growing in her limbs the longer the two of them stood out in the street. Whether he was a threat or not, a picket for the gang she'd recently found herself at odds with or a random stranger, his presence was slowing her return to the Crossroads and safety. "It's been bad. What do you want?" She asked, hasty to get their little meeting over with.

Sophia lay back in bed, feeling the wine slowly drag her into drowsiness. Across the room, she heard Gareth's words. She tried to agree, but forming words was becoming difficult. "Yes..." She sounded as though she were barely awake. Her eyes grew heavier and heavier, despite the terror in her heart. "G- good night...." She murmured the words before she felt sleep finally wash over her. Everything went black, and she slipped into a world very different from the one she was in now. A world with no troubles and no death. If only she could stay in a dream for eternity.

Lily had been politely nodding along with what Amos was saying, but felt a chill when he used the word 'faceless'. She would've just thought it an interesting choice of words, but her background kept her from being so naive. She turned to look at the man, but he was already leaving with his companion. He told her to 'look to her god'. She smirked, turning back towards the bar and downing the rest of her drink. Well, it seemed there might be a few complications. She looked towards the cloak that had been sitting on the table. She'd give Maria a bit longer. It wasn't like she was used to getting enough sleep anyway.

Eva made her way back to the room, quietly unlocking the door and creeping inside. She shut it behind her, relocking the door and slowly and silently finding her way to the bed in the dark. She sat with her back to the wall, pondering their situation. Part of her was screaming for her to disarm and get some sleep, but the other half reminded her how defenseless she'd be. Eventually, neither won out, and she fell asleep sitting against the wall, all her weapons on her person. She likely wouldn't be waking up in the most comfortable of states the following morning,

"Good night..." Gareth trailed into deep sleep, knocked out cold by fatigue. He felt the demonic grip of nightmare immediately when his eyes closed, and his mind blanked. He was in the palace, but there were no people. Everything was colorless. The voices of the dead haunted him, the people he could've saved, and soon his own voice in his head mixed with theirs, blaming him for all of their deaths, for being incapable of saving them. He ran for what felt like forever until Cain cornered him at the throne and ate him alive after Harker was butchered by blades. In his sleep he tossed and turned, fighting his self-loathing and the demons that followed him, and he found no hope in his nightmare.

"And?"
The cloak looked down. "Buggers have gone to sleep, sir. I-"
"Quiet!" The two hoods managed to retreat into shadow when the Blackcloak passed the alleyway. "Okay, all clear."
Suddenly, a cloak manifested himself from the darkness of the alley and whispered something in Rat's ear, then bounded away. Rat slowly nodded.
"Orders are to follow any Blackcloak we pick up. Follow."
"What's the plan?"
"We're going to trace the Blackcloaks to wherever their temporary base is in Mullen. Once we take that out, we are free to nab Princess Sophia and interrogate her for extra information on the Taggerung."
"Oh. Okay." The two masked men scaled the roof and started bounding over damp bricks through Keilaudrin moonlight, carefully tailing the Lyoki. While they were running, the cloak stopped and turned to Rat.
"By the way, I've heard rumors about the Guildmaster's real name."
"You know that he doesn't like to talk about such things." Rat pulled a frown.
"Well.. word is among the boys is that it's Lording."
Rat looked a mixture of horrified and repulsed for a moment, then turned into a deep snarl. "Shut up and keep moving, or I'll chuck you over the docks."
The cloak sighed and kept on running. It was going to be a long night.

The man was silent at Maria's caution, casting a slight glance over his shoulder, before turning back to her. The man allowed the silence to overtake the situation, seemingly preferring not to speak up for a good bit of time. The silence soon turned into an awkward one, before then turning into a slightly creepy one as the silence went one. Finally, the man spoke up once more, "I have medical supplies." The man's voice was still just as grating. Despite the offer, the man made no move to pull out his medical supplies, nor did he make any move towards the wounded Maria. It was obvious that if this man meant her harm, he could of easily done it by now.

Trinan's eyes narrowed as she watched the robed man. He hadn't answered her question, everything about him was a certain kind of shifty. The silence that fell between them dragged on and on, and she found herself growing more and more nervous as it continued past even her threshold of withholding speech. It gave her time to wonder about just who exactly she was talking to. Had he simply guessed that things weren't going pleasantly from her appearance? Anyone would make that observation but his wording continued to bother her for reasons that were unknowable to her. That was intuition speaking, and time told her that it was usually right. Finally, he spoke. It seemed to her that he was offering help, but as impolite as it would be to decline him she was still too bitter to think nothing of a stranger offering aid in the middle of the night. "So do I..." she said, glancing around for someone accompanying the robed man. It took her a moment to think his offer offer, all the while she interrogated him with her eyes, searching for some sign of a weapon or something that put context to the situation. Her night until then had been an unending cavalcade of gang violence and knight shenanigans and at this point the scout's had no idea who to expect. "Except alcohol. Got any?"

As soon as Haeryn exited the inn his hand flew to his face, removing the steel mask that had previously covered it and placing it somewhere within his cloak. The removal of the mask revealed the man's face. His skin was quite dark, and his features were fierce. A long scar ran across his left eye, which had a milky white color, suggesting it might have been blinded in whatever incident had caused the scar. He had short black hair and a bit of stubble. His good eye was a deep shade of brown. A recurve bow and a quiver of arrows were slung onto his back. The man made his way down the cobblestone street, and began meandering down a number of alleyways, seemingly at random. His wanderings continued for quite some time, until he made his way to the far side of town, into the outskirts of Mullen. He stopped for a moment at what appeared to be a ruined house, but turned and kept walking, making his way out of the city. Once outside, he cut off of the main road, and headed into a nearby patch of trees. By this point he'd been walking for at least an hour, and the night was growing old. He made his way into the dark recesses of the forest, keeping the same steady pace he'd maintained for the majority of his journey. After some time walking in the forest, he came to a stop at a small clearing.

The clearing was illuminated by moonlight, and a single oak grew in the center. A woman in a hooded cloak of pure white leaned against the bark of the great tree, her face eclipsed nearly entirely by her hood. Haeryn stopped a few paces from the woman and unslung the bow from his back, placing the lower end of it on the ground and resting his hand on the top of it. The woman spoke with a tone as smooth and cold as glass. "Haeryn, you're finally back. Did you speak with Eva?" The man nodded and replied in his low, gruff voice. "Yes, I did. She said she brought the Princess to the Inn after they were attacked on the palace grounds." The woman looked up slightly, revealing a pair of bright green eyes beneath the hood. "Who attacked them?" Haeryn cleared his throat. "She claims their assailant was called 'Taggerung'. According to Stonewater, he was not an ordinary man... In addition, I bring more bad news. Apparently Jezin Tremora, of the Brass Hand, fell to this 'Taggerung', along with two of the Princess' servants." The woman shook her head. "This is troubling... while she is outside of the palace grounds we will keep watch over her as best we can, but we cannot risk revealing ourselves, not yet." Haeryn replied. "Stonewater suggested using Tosli's... talents and forging a decree to legitimize our presence here." The woman's eyes flashed towards Haeryn. "I will take that option into account, but as of now any drastic action is dangerous. We cannot provoke a war here." The Blackcloak nodded. "And the boy?" The gruff man replied. "Stonewater said he's been guarding the Princess, she claims she hasn't told him anything." The woman chuckled. "Somehow I doubt that."

The woman stood up from her leaning position against the tree and took a step forward. A tuft of red hair was visible beneath her hood. "Well, now to the matter at hand. How long have those two been following you?" She looked out into the forest. "Since I left the inn. I took a long route to be sure they were tailing me." "Any idea who they might be?" Haeryn shook his head. "No clue, they don't seem to be from the Palace though." The woman smirked. "Good. Well then..." She took another step forward and raised her voice, its clear, glassy tone cutting through the forest. "Reveal yourselves now, and state your purpose here... or die where you stand." As soon as the word 'die' left her lips, Haeryn turned on a heel, whipping an arrow from the quiver at his back and bringing his bow to the ready. The woman made no visible preparation for any kind of combat, but most of her body was hidden beneath her cloak.

The man reached into the sheafs of his robes, staying still like a statue, except for the movement of his arm. Eventually, his hand found purchase on a small glass bottle, which he produced slowly from his robes. A small amount of liquid remained in the bottle. The man crouched down to his knees, and placed the bottle on it's side, and then pushing it forward. The bottle rolled across the ground to the Arcarti Scout, and the man returned to his standing position. After another long pause, the man turned, and made his way back down the alley, where Maria had entered from, before exiting back onto the streets of Mullen. It wasn't until the man was well enough away that it was obvious he moved in a way as jagged as his voice was. His legs seemed unstable, as if they were supporting a massive weight, coupled with a slight twist of his torso every time he took a step. A small, but noticeable, movement pattern.

"Shit! How did they-"
"Watch your language, boy. Stay where you are." Rat put up a black gloved hand for warning. With his other hand, he cupped his mouth and hollered out another message: "We make you the same offer, ma'am. It isn't just the two of us, actually."
With the same hand, Rat put his fingers to his mouth and emitted what seemed like a bird's whistle. Only, this time four black-hooded figures (literally) materialized from the dense forest surrounding the clearing. From a distance, one might assume that they were unarmed. But with further inspection, one could see a fierce ball of what looked like black fire.
"Shadowmages? I thought the Guildmaster retracted all our-"
"There's a squad studying the wildlife and operating in this area. I thought I'd summon them away from their research for a while. And now, I'd like you to stay put and provide covering fire in case anything goes awry."
The cloak let a toothy smile spread itself across his face. It had been a long time since he had shot at anything. With a malicious grin, he fished in his pockets and brought out a clip filled with ten crossbow darts, then surreptitiously applied it to his crossbow with a silent click. A repeating crossbow. A relatively new invention, but deadly nonetheless. Meanwhile, Rat delicately leapt from his leafy refuge and gingerly walked across the cold stone to a few meters away from the woman and the man. "No man is an island, miss and mister." He then proceeded to subtly sign to the mages: When I give the order, smite the two of them. "Lay down your weapons and come with us quietly, and we might consider letting you fight another day. Soon."
Rat didn't know much about the Faceless Legion, only that they were bodyguards to Princess Sophia of the Lyokis and could very much possibly put up a fight. A normal person would have immediately faltered and give in, but these two did not show any signs of surrenders. Tricky. With that final thought, Rat's hand was instinctively drawn to the hilt of a throwing knife enshrouded within the black of his cloak.

Maria watched on in silence as he produced a bottle of what she could only assume was the supply she'd asked for. Carrying such a thing wasn't exactly commonplace, but if anything was true about either of them it was that neither of them were commonplace. Slowly, she stooped down to take the bottle from the ground, giving her appreciation with a brusque "Thanks," and a nod. Before anything else could happen, the stranger had walked off. She watched him briefly, still trying to piece together his relation to the rest of the night's events. Clearly not affiliated with whatever gang she'd just pissed off, not an Arcarti. Thomas' men? Unlikely, but they were the only other party aware of her presence. The overwhelming dread the stranger's presence gave her only became identifiable as the man was long gone from her: the simplest explanation was another party. The wounded investigator groaned at the thought, and resolved to make her way back to the Crossroads before stopping to think about it. The gang was likely to make their move as soon as they had a chance to, and frankly she as going to get that drink and a nap in the short remainder of the night before handling that. From the glimmering on the horizon, she could see that the sun was making its slow ascent to the horizon and would be impeding her sleeping habits shortly. Sleep would probably need to wait. A new day was dawning for Mullen, and the clock governing her actions continued to count down.

Haeryn's brow furrowed when the mages appeared around them. He glanced around. One. Two. Three. Four. Four mages, as well as the man that now stood before him and his companion. They were outnumbered, and though he didn't show it, the use of magic made him nervous. He turned slowly, bringing the point of his arrow to rest on one of the mages. If he had to strike, he would, but spilling blood here could bring nothing but negative consequences. Still, he had no intention of being captured. An orange light burned in the east. Sunrise was upon them. It seemed he'd led the duo on for longer than he thought.

The brilliant green eyes beneath the white hood followed the appearance of the shadowmages, but came to rest on Rat as he made his entrance. He offered them terms for surrender. A shame they wouldn't be accepting them. The woman took a slow step forward, and a slight smile crossed her lips. The next instant a flurry of footsteps cut through the morning air. In a flash of white she stood in front of the man, within arms' reach. She locked eyes with the rogue, her expression the same as before. Her movement had been extremely quick, but she showed no sign of exertion. After a moment, she spoke, in a voice low enough that only Rat could hear her. "My name is Celeste of Redmoon. I am the Sword of Queen Angelica Octavia, Empress of Lyok. I assure you, you do not want me as your enemy." She made no move, her eyes focused in an unblinking stare. "Now, we can dance, and I can show you exactly what I mean, or you can be civil about this and call off your dogs." The rising morning sun shone bright against the woman's cloak, and illuminated her face. "The choice is yours."

---

Sophia jolted up in her cot, breathing heavily. Her sleep had been fraught with terrible dreams, despite the wine's best efforts. Her eyes darted around the room in a panic, half expecting to find some ominous figure standing over her. Instead, she awoke to a tranquil room slowly being filled by warm sunlight. She sighed. She'd made it through to another day, at least. The girl turned, allowing her feet to hang off the edge of the bed and looked towards the sunlit window. It was a beautiful sunrise, she thought. Even nature had it's ironies. She looked over towards Eva, who evidently had fallen asleep sitting up. The woman's head was slumped downward, her hair hanging in her face. The Princess quietly stood up, taking a moment to steady herself. She tiptoed across the room and looked out the window. Outside, Mullen's streets were bustling with life, as if nothing had happened. She wondered what the new day would bring. Her eyes glanced to the table where she and Gareth had placed their belongings. The sunlight shown brightly against the well-polished helmet. Sophia shook her head. She looked towards the other bed and whispered. "Gareth, Gareth are you awake?" Her soft voice floated through the room like the lilting tune of a songbird.

Slowly, intolerably, the streets began to fill with people. For the first phase of the public's reclamation of their once darkened city streets, the attention a lone person wandering covered in blood and wine gathered was unbearable, painful even, to someone whose occupation was centered around discretion. Eventually, though, there were simply too many bodies in the streets, and she faded away into the morning in obscurity, except for the occasional set of interested eyes in a crowd. Among the list of things she had spent a night or longer smelling like, wine was not a particularly harsh scent, but still the investigator longed for nothing more than a wash and the time to properly treat her arm. The time for that particular action had passed, but that wasn't on her mind. Mullen looked different in daylight, and despite her long night the view of her first day in Mullen was impressive. There was an entire world of difference between Keilaudrin and her corner of Lachne. She'd learned quickly that the South was her homeland, but she was a stranger in most of it. The Crossroads came up suddenly, as it had before, and abruptly the bloodied Maria turned into the inn, grimacing at its morning crowd. A girl in a red jacket stole the majority of the color in the room, and after that she tried not to stand around gawking at the crowd. Quickly, she walked up to the bar and flagged down the morning shift tender, it was high time that she got a room.

Gareth slowly rose with a long yawn, and he found the top of his head and his forehead aching with pain. The final moments of his dream were fleeting and ephemeral. Cracks filled the buildings of the bleak world of his nightmare, and it seemed like all of the voices slowly progressed into supportive tones. All this came when Gareth, crowned with an oak branch lined with irises, white lilies, comet orchids and oak leaves, smote Cain with an arrow through the head. His eyes opened a little more optimistically this time, and his dream opened him to a sort of metaphysical experience. 'Just what was that?' thought Gareth curiously. Perhaps he felt a little more spiritual then, but he held onto the fantasy presented to him in the dream—though it was bizarre, it gave him hope.

He came to his senses and relieved himself of the drunkenness of awakening, and a grunt past his lips. "Ah, uh, yeah..." Harker sat on the edge of his bed, his hand scratching his head and his leg lethargically.

Sophia turned toward her friend has he awoke, putting her back to the window. The sunlight silhouetted the girl. Her yellow eyes met Gareth's. Despite his tired state, there seemed to be something more hopeful about him today. It made her feel better, whatever it was. "Well, good morning." She smiled brightly. Her hair was a veritable mess, and she looked a bit disheveled, having just woken up. It was a bit funny to see a princess in such a state. She stretched her arms above her head. "Did you sleep alright?" The girl seemed to be in a better mood today. On the far side of the room, a quick shout pulled her eyes away.

Eva woke with a jolt, and a loud exclamation of "Oh!" she sat upright from the headboard, her hand darting to her side. She froze for a moment, looking around the room and seeing nothing but sunlight and a very confused Sophia. "Oh, um, good morning, you two." She nodded to the Princess and Gareth, scratching the back of her head. She stretched, and heard her back crack. Sleeping sitting up and in an armored vest was not the most refreshing experience. "Some breakfast sound good?"

Lily had been sitting at the bar for what felt like days. The sunlight had began filtering into the room a while ago, and the regulars of the Inn had come in not long long after. She kept getting odd looks from the bartenders, but she supposed a woman drinking until the early morning was a bizarre sight. She had a lot on her mind, but only one thing particularly worried her, and worry wasn't usually a problem. The man, Amos, had seemed to know more than he let on. She had no doubt the man had some sort of motive that she knew nothing about, but the best she could do was wait on her comrades to come back from wherever the hell they'd wondered off too. She had been in better company, that was for certain. She sighed and took a long draught from her flagon, putting it on the table. She'd lost count of her drinks hours ago. Her bloodshot eyes glanced to her side as she saw someone approach. Maria Trinan, back from whatever escapade she'd run off to. She turned toward the woman, looking her up and down. She was disheveled, injured, and covered in wine. "I... I'm not even going to ask this time." She laughed. "I still got your cloak right here." The blonde woman pattered the blue-grey cloak on the bar. Her words slurred somewhat, and she felt a bit dizzy. Maybe drinking all night had been a bad decision.

"Good morning to you both, as well." Gareth twisted his body and popped his back into working order, the pain from his head subsiding. His stomach growled, and immediately he blurted, "Excuse me, sorry..." The offer of food enticed him, and breakfast would satisfy his hunger. "Yes, that seems especially in order," he joked about his stomach's grumbling. His hair was messy and uncombed, Harker having just risen from deep slumber, and meticulous as he was about attire and hair, he lacked his comb. No matter, he had to put up with it until they returned to the castle. However, he didn't particularly appreciate looking so untidy. As he got to his feet, he stretched his arms with another heaving yawn.

Sophia giggled at Gareth's rumbling stomach, reaching to the table and picking up her circlet and necklace. She slid on her shoes and turned with a cheerful smile. "Yes, let's get something to eat." She realized she hadn't eaten in quite some time, since yesterday afternoon, if her memory served her well. She made a quick effort to at least flatten her tangled hair before walking out the door, trotting briskly down the hallway. Eva followed her out. The trio made their way down to the lobby of the inn, and the Princess approached the bar with a slight smile. She waved down the nearest bartender. "Yes, hello, could we get some breakfast, please?" She fished around in her pocket for her coin purse, eventually removing the small satchel. The room was a great deal more crowed than it had been the night before. Her eyes drifted around, searching the crowd, though she didn't know what she was looking for.

Gareth equipped his weapons, bow and quiver on his back and all, and he used his hand to mimic a comb and part his hair to the left. He followed Sophia downstairs, with less grace and more trembling feet on the stairs, cuts on his face from the night before partially healed but not faded. He covered his mouth with his fingertips while Sophia flagged down the bartender and he kept quiet, him taking a backseat now in the group's actions. Taking his hand off of his face and patting his trousers somewhat idly, he shyly glanced at Eva and weakly smiled, before he turned his gaze away and stared about the floor and his feet, his teeth biting his lip.

She'd paid for her room in relative peace, clothing she would have to secure later. Her uniform was an utter write off at this point, although she'd learned some tricks to get rid of stains over the years it was safe to say that this particular shirt's tour of duty was over. As Trinan contemplated her situation, a familiar voice and a laugh from beside her reminded her of her other reason for returning to the bar. "Thanks," she said, taking a seat and cradling her head in her hands. It was tempting to fall asleep then and there but after a moment one of her hands came out and pulled at the cloak laying, carefully considering the weight and the sound of the sheathes within rattling on the wood. "What did I say I'd do in return? A story?" She asked groggily, rubbing her eyes with her free hand. There was nothing like sitting down to remind someone how tired they were. Another party had descended into the lobby, from the back. That was good, there were other people staying here so the rooms couldn't be that bad.

The bartender nearest Sophia looked up with a smile. His morning hadn't reached anything near busy yet, they still had a while before the lunchtime crawl. A breakfast request from a patron of the inn was something they were well equipped to deal with. He turned around and withdrew a folded pamphlet from a rack on the wall behind him, a short list that served as the menu for the various foods they served at the Crossroads. Returning to the group gathering at his bar, he extended his hand to offer the menu out to Sophia. As he worked, he slowly came to the conclusion that the customers he looked upon were likely the distraught last minute entries the night shift had talked about. All kinds passed through cities, and particularly the bars in them, but staff were quick to talk and it hadn't taken long for speculation that they were on the run to crop up. It wasn't his business. "Here you are, ma'am," he said politely, running down the list. "Breakfast we can do. Is there anything else you need this morning or shall I take your order?"