"Hmm,... dat a goo' poin'... but dey does taste like rott'n ass.." he muttered back, before palming another loaf of bread from the bounty and hobbling back to the opened trunk, this time extracting a red vial.

"Dontcha worry kiddo, 'slong as ya keeps outta sight, an' does what we tells ya wit'out askin' 'buncha questions, should be right 'tas rain."

He popped the seal on the red flask, hesitated a second, then downed it before uttering gagging and other sounds of protest while slamming a fist against the wall.

'Hot dayum! Dis yer idear o' a joke lady!? At's nastier an' usual! I think i'd radder DIE 'an drinks anodder of 'em narshty bottles a troll piss!'

He tapped his other leg on the floor experimentally, then stood on it freely.

'Works 'dou. But DAYUM.'

He shoved the bread into his face, eager for something to take the foul taste out of his mouth, then turned toward the prince and Jazdia again, noting forvthe first time the livid scowl she had.

"We gotta git him inta sommat nobuddy gunna knowed he were a prince in. Dirty up his hair a bit, an put im in common clothes. Hide 'im in plain sight. I's got plenty a dirt....' he muttered. 'We gotta fin' 'im some clothes.'

[GM Post]

"It's good to see you, miss Rosenving." The prince sheepishly said, a crack forming in the mature gentlemanly visage he tried to put up as the teenaged boy peeked from within. The crack furthered into a near-awkward nervous pause as Jazdia pressed him further, though thankfully the added conversation with the bear-man bought him some time to mend it. The adventuring party was... almost exactly how he imagined one, like those in the stories, although perhaps missing a dashing young leader with penchant for cringy heroic speeches.

He decided that it's probably for the better.

"I do have my own wealth and asset I can bestow as a reward, miss. In my capacity as a prince I'm afraid it'll likely be nowhere as grand as whatever my father have promised your team, but it will not be for lack of trying." Alec thought that it's a good enough deflection. Whatever he could personally gift out wouldn't be overly precious compared to a king's bounty. If they wanted to cash in the favor immediately, then so be it. But he prefers to properly pay back his rescuers after his ascension to the throne. Hopefully he's better at negotiation by then. "That aside, I'm not familiar with most of you. Perhaps an introduction is in order?"

Jazdia stared back at him for a while before bursting into a laugh.

"Wealth he says!"

More laughs followed.

"Oh, God... my sides..." she heaved, one hand on the face while the other rubbing the side of her bare midriff. Seeing the boy's confused look made her want to laugh some more, but as she reached to ruffle the boy's hair, she stifled her laugh.

"The name is Jazdia Crystalspark," she said, offering an enigmatic smile before continuing in a deceivingly playful tone. "It would be a lie to say that meeting you is an honor. Nah, you are too young for that."

Lifting her hand before the boy could show some resistance, Jazdia corrected her posture and smiled again."We will have a chance to talk again later. Now I have something else to attend to. You should... get something to eat, and have some rest. I'm sure you know the way back to the capital will take hours. Don't worry about your captors, they are dead now, if that's any consolation for you."

"Keep an eye on the box," she said to Kaito. "We might need all the items inside later."

Retreating back to the antechamber, Jazdia hopped up and climbed to the second floor. There, she immediately barged into the Baron's office, seeking any written record.

Cedar's ears flattened at the shrill laughter, with the whites of his eyes showing, but made no other sign of the declaration.

Hesitating a moment after Jazdia left, he remembered his manners.

"Oh.. uh.. Right.... muh name's Cedar, dat o'er dere be Kaito, an at's Veronica skulkin in the shadow back 'ere. 'Vonnie yah seem ta already knows-- an summare 'round 'ere be doct'r Solom'n-- good ta meetcha Alec, but naow, we REALLY gotta git ya outta em 'I's loaded wit' cash, please hol' meh fer ransom!' Nighties, an inta sommat less eye catchin, an quick."

"Nono, no' upstai'rs, at's where all da rich people stuff be at, naw, we lookin fer poor folk clothes-- daownstai'rs! Off we go!"

---

The afterlife, the great beyond, heaven, hell, what lay ahead once someone had taken their final breath remained unknown. Even the elves, rumored to have descended from angels, could not answer. Or at least the few he asked dare not answer. It mattered not. For the removal of agency towards a person’s willingness to pass on to such a place was what Solomon strove to fight against. It was a cause Solomon felt so deeply about, he extended his vision to others, patrons seeking to live beyond the fragile mortal limitations given at birth. He especially wished to share that chance, that future, to those whose choice was made for them unjustly.

Solomon’s wishes even extended to his adversaries. At first it was a means of himself taking control over the lives of others. Distinctly those former militia men of Meche who took the life of his family. Resentment would still swell inside Solomon towards the evil of greed, murder, and exploitation. However, Solomon would hide it, and though forgiveness was difficult, with even former enemies willing to hold onto the world they knew, there was the common ground. A second chance many would never get to see.

Adversary, ally, or accidental casualty, one thing still tied them all together. While Solomon offered a chance to return to the world anew, whatever the afterlife was, whatever was out there ruling over the heavens had their own grasp upon the spirits of the dead. Some times, emanations of that false world would also reach towards the spirits of the recently passed and offer their own sanctuary. Ragnar was of one such case. Ancestors of battles past called forth to him. Yet despite the call, there was still uncertainty. The fact Ragnar was entertaining the idea brought forth a tension between Solomon and Ragnar’s ancestors.

“Go then, join your ancestors. Though the passage of time between the battles I offer could be immense, it would be like no time passed for you. For that we are similar. However, beyond offering a chance to fight new champions born among and still live across the Earth, I do not have much else to offer.” Solomon stood just outside the keep during this interaction. An observer might have seen him only pause. Solomon fully expected Ragnar to embrace his new destiny among the battle with his ancestors, so once Solomon finished his comment, he continued on towards the village, not returning to the keep for a short while.

After lastly speaking with the lingering spirit of Asevor, Solomon remained where he was, looking back towards the village. His eyes closed as the air around his person became heavy. Those who had accepted his contract would be bound to Solomon’ and the large tome of the dead in which all his power originated. For the first time in casting his spells, the tome itself stirred. Solomon held his hands out to his sides and book was magically unbuckled, the steel plates protecting the covers fell to the ground, and various magical seals became visible before fading. The book hovered in front of Solomon, the darkened pages opened. Though the glimpse would be brief, various magical inscriptions could be seen on each page, splashes of blood, ghostly imprints, and some completely blackened with ink. Thin black strands manifest from around him, flowing into the pages, new lines of inscriptions appearing across the pages, along with new signatures, blots, or ghostly aberrations covering the newly printed words. As soon as the last of the names were imprinted, the book clasped shut, returning to it’s place upon Solomon’s back, the safeguards and protections returning. With a sigh, Solomon took a step forward.

At the keep, Petra stood within the door of the stairwell. Her spectral arms were crossed as she watched the others. Since retrieving the prince, and dealing with his awe and questions of what she was, she wanted to distance herself from the others now that the fighting was done. Though she was interested to see what kind of magic Asevor was building, it was having to deal with everyone else that bothered her. For her, seeing everyone joking as they were, even the more mature appearing of them, Jazdia, she found it remarkable they were able to accomplish what they had done already. The vampire was passive. The samurai was useless. The bear created a storm he himself couldn’t manage. She questioned who would hire this lot for such an ‘important’ mission as rescuing the crown heir. Even Solomon was useless as well, having to rely on her and the other dead he selfishly enslaved.

Petra turned her head to see what Jazdia was up to. The elf had separated from the others to explore the upper floors of the keep. It made no difference to Petra. She moved out of the way of the door so the elf could clamber up the stairs. Petra let her arms drop once she noticed that Solomon’s shadow peaking through the remains of the doorway back into the keep.

Solomon returned. He could see that everyone was recovered enough to move about. Cedar had awakened, free of many of his bandages, having healed himself of the worse of it. The prince remained near the injured orc. Chounan and Yvonne had procured food and drink, though the former was not able to be found among the others. When Solomon returned Jazdia was already ascending the stairwell antechamber, and Cedar was introducing himself. Solomon was able to catch bits of the conversation. Spirits seemed to be much higher now, and that was a good thing.

“I am Solomon Sparrow.” he said as he joined the rest of the group, “I’ve come back from, er, paying my respects to those lost. I apologize for my hasty retreat from the room you were imprisoned. I had to find the key bearer. I am pleased to see that your information has helped me greatly in that endeavor. Pleasure to make introductions.” Solomon walked towards the table where Asevor’s belongings sat, retrieving his own pack off the ground and placing it near. He began removing various tools, and shards of glass. Luckily, the containers containing more potent contaminants were in more durable containers. Though their glass linings were shattered, there wasn’t much risk of exposure. He started cleaning out the pack, and rehousing his mixtures using the various empty containers he could find. He took a pause and looked back up at the prince.

“In case you wanted to know, the person whom retrieved you is named Petra. These two are Danielle and Vengel. Neither they, nor I expect you to remember who is who though.” Two shadowy forms of a humanoid figure emerged from around Solomon. They were the only two to survive all of Asevor’s purge undead spells throughout Fanghorn. Both were nondescript outside of recognizing a humanoid shape.

“Please, keep watch around the keep. We may freed the prince and eliminated the captors, but I fear there may be more at play. At the very least, a watch cannot hurt.” said Solomon. One of the shadows immediately shrunk down in size, no long visible to anyone. The second lingered. “Yes, if that is where Chounan is, then supplement his field of view.” the other shadow disappeared similarly to the first.

[GM Post]

"She will collect that favor at a later date, my prince. After you have matured into a proper monarch. And as an elf, she can afford the wait." Matilda reminded the prince, not even waiting for said elf to be out of earshot, as gently as her gruff personality could. Perhaps the warning was not necessary, but the knight-captain couldn't help but worry for her future liege. The event from the past week will force him to mature, probably way sooner than he should.

"And I fully intend on keeping my words, dame Matilda." The prince calmly replied, nodding at the introduction to the adventurers. There's a lot of names, but he's good at remembering names. It's certainly nowhere as complicated as the royal court. "Nice to meet you all. Pleased to make your acquaintance, doctor Sparrow."

"If you say so, my prince."

"She ain't wrong though." Interjected a particular mercenary, sauntering over with a nearly overflowing mug in hand. The burn on her body had started to scab over, and it itched like a motherfucker. She needed a distraction until the alcohol kick in. "A monarch's favor should not be granted lightly. Oh, I'll still collect my share though. Dont worry, it'll not bankrupt you or anything. Probably... damn, you're taller than me already. Drink?"

The mug was shoved before the prince's face, and upon refusal the target changed to Matilda. Meeting another wall there, she shrugged and downed the whole mug before returning to the table for more.

Taking the prince downstairs, Cedar would need to pass the casks of various alcohol - with the dead-drunk man in one corner -, storage of grain and preserved meat and perishables, and finally at the far end the spare clothing for the staffs. It actually was in good shape, if well-worn. Only matter of time to find something of the right size.

Meanwhile, on the Road to Pesti, four hours prior

When the Delvings arrived at the first barrier, it was clear that the Sergeant was not exaggerating.

Thorns and vines, and roots and more prickly barbs that made words plant and violence didn't sound very unrelated at all. Even the most lighthearted of them all recoiled when she tried to test the jutting pricker with her fingers.

"Ouw!"

"I said, stand back! Why are you not listening?!" Barked Silas, facepalming before turning to one of his lieutenants who just returned from a light recon duty. "What you've got?

"Whoever planted these things was sure meticulous," answered the lieutenant. "The wall stretched far into the woods, and I couldn't see the edge of it without risking an hour or two to observe further. Sir, suggesting to take a detour perhaps?"

Silas looked up to the sky. The wind was picking up and the storm he saw earlier is still raging in the distance. He had been a seaman for years, and reading the weather was something he had mastered. He knew how and when a hurricane would form, down to the exact location and hour. But this one was different; it was too erratic and formed in a place where it had no business to appear. It looked...very unnatural and the forming was all too instantaneous, like something conjured by a man.

The question was, who did that?

"We are running out of time, Lieutenant. But I will consider it.'

The word was calm, masking the swelling anxiety that was building inside him. It was surprisingly easier compared to finding the answer to his immediate problem; The thick hedge that seemed sturdier than any city wall he ever encountered.

A slash to an overreaching vine severed it clean, but his saber barely make any overall damage to the wall when a new branch sprouted down from the severed stalk and refortify it.

He slashed again, this time with his power imbued to his blade, it cut as cleanly as before and this time the sprouting halted. But to imagine how many swings needed to get through, Silas had to rethink for a better solution.

Should they really use tallows and burn their swords red?

A sound of metal swinging in the air alerted him, and to the extent, his subordinates as well, but they found no enemy. It was just Kirsten who stood in a steady stance, facing the ever-growing thicket with her large blade drawn. It was easy to dismiss her charade as immature things someone did when bored, but when the golden glow illuminated her zweihander, everyone suddenly remembered that she was still a Delving.

The first swing cut a swathe of thorny vines like wet noodles. The maid advanced forward, swinging the second strike as she entered deeper into the wall, more swings followed in rhythmical but powerful onslaughts. Embers ignited and died out in every stem she severed, but the plant shriveled and died soon after. When she nearly reached the end of the wall, pieces of dried thorns could be seen sticking into her maid uniform, but her long, leather boots provided ample protection to keep her footwork remain undisturbed until she completely waltzed through.

The maid barely broke any sweat when she greeted her brother and smiled triumphantly.

"I win this one!"



With Kirsten in the frontline, the second barrier of thorns proved to be a trivial obstacle for them to reach Fanghorn. Silas remembered how menacing it looked compared to the one that blocked the road to Pesti, but Kirsten mowed down everything on her path with no problem.

It was a simple trick, he told to himself, part of it served as a consolation. The same power Kirsten used was also the power he had been mastering for years, the difference was, he didn't have the endurance and stamina to reliably swing that slab of steel Kirsten had been lugging every day for the last ten years. Really, his father didn't give her enough credit. How on earth she was a maid?

It was raining hard after they passed the second thorns, but then it stopped not long after. All quiet when they reached the Fanghorn outskirts, and it was strange. The province might be underdeveloped, but its people had to make a living one way or another. Yet here they were riding through an empty road. The field was deserted as well, and every house closed its door and windows. Not even a single livestock could be seen loitering around.

Riding closer to the walled city of Fanghorn, the place looked like it just survived a siege. The destroyed bridge could be seen before they entered the gate, and Silas' heart raced when he noticed charred stains on almost everything, and the chilling aura despite the sun shining through the cloudless sky from the western horizon.

The damage to the peak of the tower was apparent as if it had been stricken by dozens of thunder. From up here, Silas saw a man hunkering on its ruined rampart, watching carefully as the party rode slowly toward the gate.

Only after entering the city, Silas began to see some activity from the local populace. Naturally far from rejoicing at his arrival, they were lamenting, either for their injured or deceased loved ones or damaged dwelling to the lost belongings. He couldn't help but shake his head, though his concern was more on the political aftermath rather than an empty as a human being.

"What... what happened?"

That question brought a pang like never before. Indeed, this was too much, this was not something he agreed to help. Would his father condone this unnecessary damage? Who would be responsible for this?

"I don't know. Let's keep moving."

He didn't know, yet knew at the same time. It could be the work of the Wizard his father hired. No matter how sagacious they presented themselves to be, the mage's intelligence lies in the tomes they read and nothing else. They were as witless as peasants next door when it comes to political savviness and this... this was what he was talking about. A foolish endeavor, so excessive, and could bring forth a political calamity.

Then, there was the second cause. The more their horses trotted, the more he thought about it, and the more Silas felt his heart sink deeper into his stomach.

Baker's words suddenly echoed in his mind, and the wailings of the villagers sounded eerily clearer in his ears.

This could be a glimpse of what a King can do when he felt betrayed.

A picture of his siblings, his family, and his home appeared before him.

When a powerful man got desperate, his anger would burn indiscriminately.

Then that very image faded in a smoky haze.

Save your family from this madness!

Shaking his head off from that terrible thought and back to reality, the Admiral realized that the tower was ahead of them now, all they need to do now was to dismount and climb the grassy hills through a muddy path.

"He is still up there," said Kirsten, trying to keep up the pace. "I wonder who is he..."

Again the Admiral offered no answer. The sentry was likely to be the King's Agent, and it was apparent now that what he feared was real. However, the Admiral refrained from saying anything that would color this enterprise with a more depressing tone.

"Don't look at him. Keep your wits about you and just follow my instruction. Let me do the talking. Trust me, this mission calls for deliberate and appropriate actions, our family's status is at stake here."

And without elaborating further, the eldest of the Delving siblings took the final steps toward the courtyard of the tower. The place no longer had a door fitted, but he did not forget his mannerism; stopping right on the threshold, he called politely.

"Well-met, fellow Kingsmen." Looking at Mitalda, Silas lowered his head in a slight bow. "And, Milady Matilda."

There was nothing for a while but a cold wind howling into the room. Silas observed the people in front of him; some of them he recognized; Beside Matilda, there was Yvonne from the Rosenving clan and The King's Secret Bodyguard whose name he did not know. The unrecognized rest were an unconscious man that seemed too ordinary, a white-haired young man with a perpetual wolfish grin, and a tall, yet slightly hunched gentleman wearing a very pronounced attire.

"I believe our meetings were not a mere happenstance. Can I speak to the Baron of the House? May I enter?"

As far as Silas was concerned, he had chosen his words carefully.

"He is still up there," said Kirsten, trying to keep up the pace. "I wonder who is he..."

Again the Admiral offered no answer. The sentry was likely to be the King's Agent, and it was apparent now that what he feared was real. However, the Admiral refrained from saying anything that would color this enterprise with a more depressing tone.

"Don't look at him. Keep your wits about you and just follow my instruction. Let me do the talking. Trust me, this mission calls for deliberate and appropriate actions, our family's status is at stake here."

And without elaborating further, the eldest of the Delving siblings took the final steps toward the courtyard of the tower. The place no longer had a door fitted, but he did not forget his mannerism; stopping right on the threshold, he called politely.

Chounan detected people entering on his radius. It seems that have a guest quite early and they came from barrier made the bear friend as one of the two which is the maid who had inflicted damaged from the vines.

"You guys take care the rest of observing. We have an important guest coming on us" He said to the shadow as he know their presence.

He then quickly proceed to the opposite side and made a shortcut to Jazdia with his parkour maneuver. "We have a visitors. It is the Delvings. I recognized the Admiral uniform, I can say he is Silas." Said to Jazdia.

"Silas Delving huh?" mused the elf, the information strangely didn't sound like news to her, but she bothered to ask anyway. "How many soldiers he brings with him?"

Only himself and five other people.

"Can't say he was brave or reckless or misinformed. I do expect a number of responders, but color me surprised, it's really him."

Jazdia tossed the papers back onto the desk. and faced the Samurai with an aloof expression. Their last dance with a Delving was troublesome, to say the least, and this one could possibly make things even more complicated.

Being complicated didn't always mean being hostile.

"Go downstairs and join with the others. Your order is first and foremost to ensure the prince's safety, you know what to do. I will be with you all shortly."

Chounan nodded to Jazdia. He then proceed to others to meet the rest his and the Delvings. He looked for the prince and found that he was along with a bear, it's been a while he met and he expected the prince can't recognize him since he kept on the mask during his time as knight.

He leaned on the wall advanced from the rest of the party. As Silas made a mannerism.

---

“Be wary, someone approaches.” said Solomon to the others. He placed the final newly contained pathogen back into his pack, shards of broken glass now neatly piled near by. He had significantly less than he started, losing much to cross contamination, and the rest to the alcohol. At least now with his pack in order, he knew how much he would need to regather when given the chance. Just as he stashed the pack beneath his robes, Chounan appeared, having also noticed the new comers. If Chounan was present here through, that probably meant whoever was approaching was not just some concern citizens come to aid after the storm.

When the voice called out, Solomon finally turned around to face the remains of the door. There standing just outside the keep standing in debris lade puddles of water was admiral Silas and five others. Curiously, one of them was dressed like a maid. Solomon didn’t think Silas the type to have his house personnel travel with him.

“No, I do not believe it to be coincidence, either.” said Solomon. He looked around the ruined dining hall, and towards his allies. Despite the up until recently high spirits, they were still equal parts injured and exhausted. He then looked back at the admiral. “We are not the keepers of this house, enter as you may. As for the Baron, I’m afraid he was lost in the devastation that overtook the village.”

Solomon watched the admiral and his party with caution. He had an inkling that the people arriving were of some importance, but he did not expect the admiral, especially this far inland. For what reason would he be here? A liaison for the king seemed highly unlikely. On assignment from House Delving seemed more likely. Solomon had hope that wasn’t the case, though. The group’s last encounter with anyone from House Delving had left a sour note, and Solomon didn’t want to anticipate how much deeper the conspiracy reached. For now, it was probably best to not stir up any trouble. Silas could be innocent, but should he not be, now was not a good time to start another fight.

"Gods! That's harrowing news." Silas' fair visage turned gloomy as he entered the room, and abruptly stopped in the middle. His eyes briefly focused on the mutilated body of a fat Baron who lay flat in the antechamber.

"He was my father's closest partner," he continued, his voice vibrating with sincere grief. "And a long-time friend. What happened to him?"

Passing the preserved comestibles with a delighted interest in them (and plucking a copious handful of sundried raisins from a nearby barrel into an eager mouth) Cedar made his way with the prince to the far back of the cellar.

His enthusiasm and mirth at being practically surrounded by food quickly gave way to dread, as an unfamiliar voiced drifted in from upstairs, sendung his fur upright and bristly despite the wet and mud. He had blocked the roads himself-- NOBODY should be paying a housecall!

Silently, he motioned the prince to remain quiet, and hurry getting changed while he listened intently to what was happening upstairs...

---

So, father Delving knew the baron on a personal level. Now Silas was here for reasons still clouded in uncertainty. Coupled with the knowledge of the conflict involving Aaron, it was too convenient. Just how much was Silas aware of the situation?

“I am sorry for your loss.” said Solomon. He hardly moved from where he stood. For the moment, he kept his undead allies at bay, urging their silence. The admiral sounded sincere with his grief. So far, no need for any swift action, but caution was still had. “There was an incident involving a well known mage known as Asevor. You might have heard of him. Most of what you see here can be associated with him. It’s been dealt with. There shouldn’t be any further risk of harm to the village or its people.”

Solomon gestured to the ruins of the keep as he spoke, pointing out damage obviously caused by magic such as the acidic scaring across the furnishing, and the blast marks along the walls. “We’ve done all we can to help those affected until relief arrives from the neighboring town. Excuse me for my curiosity though, might I ask what brings you here?”

If you're a mercenary, you learn how to smell bullshit quickly enough. Otherwise your client may send you to a situation they never expect you to walk out of. And right now, the presence of the admiral this far inland had rang all the alarm bell within Yvonne's head. Just the fact that a visitor had arrived nearly as soon as the storm's end was suspicious enough, and for the fabled admiral to be on the lead?

There's a dead rat somewhere, and it reeked.

"Admiral Delving! A long way from the sea, ain't ya?" Yvonne leaned lightly against the table, frivolous yet in full alert with her sheathed sword in hand. "And Kirsten, pretty as always. Pardon the sorry welcome, we've had a mage problem recently. It's been dealt with."

Can the party take them? The other three were unknown, but the Delving siblings were the real deal. Yvonne in her peak condition may be able to match Kirsten pound to pound, but she's nowhere near a good state at the moment. Whereas Silas... never personally seen the man fight for real, but words were he's a powerful and well-rounded fighter. Probably would've lopped her head off within minutes even at her best. Here's hoping the special investigator can at least tie him down. Her or the illusionist, as the two largely unharmed people in the group.

"I'll be blunt with you, admiral, the timing of your arrival could not be any more suspicious." The knight-captain growled, not even displaying the slightest bit of courtesy. "Spill. What business do you have here, where seditious influence had taken root?"

Cedar's teeth instinctually bared, and his ears couldn't decide if they wanted to be pricked up in alertness, or flattened back in irritation. The conversation had overtones of barbed caution, but staunchly refused to land on either side of the question his instincts demanded answer to.

Friend, or Foe?

The prince had finished tugging on a pair of worn suede leather trousers and a coarse linen cambric shirt, but had done nothing about the fancy haircut... or the manicured fingernails. An attentive person would still spot him. He also reeked like fine castille soap, but cedar knew human noses were awful, and gave that a pass.

He needed an exit plan, just in case, and snuffed intently at the room, seeking cues about drafts, or frequently used avenues through the cellar used to move the goods around. He doubted very much that they lugged the oversized pickling barrels down here via the stair leading to the dining hall-- that would be absurd.

A draft caught his nose, from one of the far walls.

So, at least there was a way out if the cellar... he needed a way to secure the prince. With furtive purpose, he loosed a rope wrapping from one of the larger barrels, and began wrapping and looping it about himself.

The prince looked at him confusedly and expectantly, but he held a blunted claw to his lips, urging silence.

The rope reeked of sour kraut.

He kept working, continuing to listen intently.

Silas' handsome face slightly contorted in disgust upon hearing the name, but he managed to keep his cool. The man in front of him began to explain the circumstances. About the damage, incident, and harm, all attributed to the mage Asevor. Sounded cold and distant he was, like something ancient and truthful, yet Silas detected deception in his words. Which part and why, he could not tell.

Cautiousness prevented him to look at the man's masked visage until he told him Asevor is dead.

The Admiral looked as if a mélange of confusion, disbelief, and relief washed him. The Mage was known to be extremely paranoid regarding his own safety. He was powerful, but his ability to escape from a fickle was his defining trait that made his father keep repeatedly hiring Asevor to do his dirty work.

It said that capturing him was much harder than fighting the man himself. If these people managed to do that, it was obvious that he had to change his strategy.

"The damage he did to Fanghorn will not go unreported. Rest assured that I will be there to aid you should His Majesty require any of you to testify."

Clearing his throat, Admiral Silas realized that two pairs of keen eyes had been staring at him thoroughly since his unplanned entry. Unlike the man, they were more impatient, and speak almost in unison.

"Admiral Delving! A long way from the sea, ain't ya?"

First, It was from their former acquaintance. The girl from the bankrupted Rosenving clan. Silas' inner self soured, not because of the unplanned reunion, but by a sheer realization that she was also one of the agents who clashed with his brother and won.

He could only offer a weak smile. Thankfully her attention seemed to be diverted to his half-sister.

"And Kirsten, pretty as always. Pardon the sorry welcome, we've had a mage problem recently. It's been dealt with."

"Hello, Yonnie! Good to see you. How are you these days?" said Kirsten, with her usual cheerfulness.

Then, there was Matilda...

"I'll be blunt with you, admiral, the timing of your arrival could not be any more suspicious." The knight-captain growled, not even displaying the slightest bit of courtesy. "Spill. What business do you have here, where seditious influence had taken root?"

"I shall not deny that milady, and I shall fulfill your request if you are willing to lend me your ears, for my words will be the truth and truth only."

he decided to pick the half-truth card instead.

"Very early this morning my father received a letter from the late Baron Von Kruber, concerning the great peril that he was sure approaching his keep. He did not specify anything else but the matter is so important that Highness might want to skip his sleep to hear it."

"If so, why didn't he send it to His Majesty instead?" interrupted Matilda. A sheer impatience glinted in her eyes like a fanged beast ready to pounce, but considering her condition, Silas knew it was just an empty threat.

To be honest, he and Kirsten might be able to take them all down, but it would serve no purpose to him. Right now knew patience was the key... to mend things up. To deescalate, to deceive. It was like surfing in the waves, all he had to do was to adapt with its ups and downs.

His posture was straight, yet it did not radiate elegance, nor an ounce of nobility. Silas was just the man he was. Trying to tell what he knew and be true to his word. He actually struggled to find the right word for it, but he sure knew when to act like it.

"That I do not know. But if I may be so bold to postulate, the unconditional trust between my Father and Baron Von Kruber could be the reason." The word was said in pride, though a pang in his heart said it was misplaced, fake, and ironic.

Naturally, my father did not immediately share the level of grievance the Baron expressed in his letter, yet he stayed awake and dispatched his men. Waiting for any news. And it was indeed news that came to him in that witching hour. Our people from Pesti mentioned the Prince in distress, and we immediately linked it with the announcement from the King earlier.

"I am here because my father concluded that the Prince's Convoy is in trouble, and I am here to help."

Cedar glowered. He found he did not like this man upstairs, whoever he was.

('The prince's convoy', and 'in trouble' my soggy furry ass!) He raged inwardly. He knew well enough that the prince had been ABDUCTED, and further, that the abductors had been murderers and shysters. They had MURDERED Reinhold's friend, and the old hunter had not slept in DAYS from tracking their sorry bitch asses here.

Whoever that sweet talking asshole upstairs was, he had given himself away.

He pointed furtively in the direction the draft was coming from to the prince, and moved as silently and with purpose as he could.

That buttery son of a bitch would NOT worm his way into running off the prince, even if it killed him.

[GM Post]

"Then with much regret I'll inform you that the duke have made the wrong assumption." Matilda replied flatly, her tone booking not the slightest trace of amusement. "These men and women are investigating the assassination attempt, the very same that your brother had so thoroughly obstructed one day ago. Von Kruber is your father's close associate, you say? This will be investigated, for he harbored a significant seditious force in this very keep."

Being an orc had its advantage in situation like this. Humans tend to have hard time reading her face, only seeing a stone wall that betrayed nothing at all. As for the present company... hopefully they knew how to play along. The only flaw was if Cedar came stomping up that stairs with the prince in tow, so she'll need Silas and company out of the room as soon as possible.

"This situation is so far outside your jurisdiction, admiral, you shouldn't even be here. There is nothing you can do to help unless you fancy digging peasants out of the rubble. Everything is under control, relief force will arrive before the day ends. So be on your way."

"Eh, I've been better. Not everyday a master mage decided to blast half your skin to oblivion, yeah?" On the side Yvonne and Kirsten chatted away like the situation wasn't as tense as a warehouse full of black powder, the former flexing the burnt arm where the scab had started to flake off. It itched like a motherfucker, she hadn't drink nowhere near enough to numb her senses. "How are you doing these days? Daddy dearest still being a prick? You should consider snapping off his leash, ditch him off! Heck, I'd show you the ropes. It'll be fun!"

"I... I believe what happened between Head Constable Aaron and His Highness' agent was nothing but a mere understanding. A terrible and regrettable one at that. But I shall not pry on that. Aaron has been relieved from his position and waiting for his trial.

There was a pause. A deviant fire flickered in his eyes when he continued.

"I don't know what terrible seditious scheme Baron Von Kruber was planning, but if it was as you said, that will be another blow to my father. However, I must correct you. Please do not speak ill about the deceased until the investigation has been concluded. We both know how the law works. Rest assured we Delving family will be cooperative during the process."

He already heard chattering, and lousy banter being flexed. Being easy to please she was, Kirsten joined the fray, however, the commentary shifted to a more personal matter, and the commentary about his father started to make ears feel pricked.

"Oh, I am sure you will," The voice came from an elven woman who jumped down the broken staircase to join them immediately. Her disregard for the Baron's dead body made Silas heave a breath.

He counted there was Matilda and the Ronsenving scion. Fred's secret bodyguard was also there, standing religiously yet seemingly too focused on watching his sister's girly talk. The Druid could be the pale old man, and the legendary doctor could be the other male in the team.

So, this must be Baker's former boss. Silas immediately recalled an occasion when he saw a similar blonde elf attending Fredricus' banquet many years ago. She was beautiful and elegant. Was that the very same elf who was now in front of him? Looking at her unmodest appearance... no, this couldn't be her.

"I don't know we have an Admiral in our party," she said to Matilda, then shifted to Silas. "Don't bother explaining yourself. We all know you are here for that person. The question is, we have him, what you are going to do about it?"

"He will be on his way," grunted Matilda.

"Really?" the elf lifted her stare at the Knight captain.

"One way or another." she rubbed her fist.

Maybe cornered or wanting to preserve a status quo, Silas pleaded. "Please, there is no need to get drastic."

There was an awkward pause. The elf smiled at him, and by then Silas realized her eyes were glowing with a violet hue.
His hand was ready to reach his sword, but the stare was never to bewitch. It was to read, it was like she was determining if he was lying or not. Silas felt the elf woman in front of him had seen through his deceit, but decided to play along with it, for some enigmatic reason.

"Yeah, no drastic move. My question is still unanswered though."

"No more questions. No more answers."

"Come now, Matilda. Let the man speak for himself..."

Silas opened his mouth but no words came out yet. What he was going to do about it? The question was laced with subtle suspicion, that kind of accusation that would strip his motive bare if he denied it. Now he felt surrounded not only by a wounded yet determined fanged beast but also by a serpent that would retaliate with vicious retribution should he dare to attack.

A card played, and the name was retreating.

"What Milady Matidla said is right. I have no jurisdiction here. However, please do not misunderstand, I am as glad as you are knowing the prince is safe and sound." he placed his hand on his chest, while his golden eyes looked at Matilda, seeking approval.

"I assure you I am not here to disturb your mission for my own personal gain, or to seek any kind of fame. Please resume your plan as you see fit, all I ask is for us to be with you until we reached the capital. You may choose any route you prefer and share not your thoughts with us, that is fine with me."



Meanwhile, Yvonne should have known that flexing was never a good idea. And Kirsten being the klutz she was, reached for Yvonne's arm and grabbed it closer. It was fortunate that both girls were equally strong, else the other would be flung like a rag doll.

"That looks terrible! I am glad he is gone. I feel pity for the people outside you know, and Mister Baron... no matter the cause, this was not right."

It took some time for Kirsten to realize she might have spilled something she shouldn't. His father never let her be involved in his scheming, yet he should know better that it was impossible to hide everything from your own blood.

"Pretend you don't hear that from me."

Kirsten was well aware and understood the magnitude of this whole operation, but she was powerless to stop it. She-- no, they had been conditioned to be like that from an early age; if their father said go, they go, come, they come, and do, they do. She just went with the flow, and if the flow was so toxic, her option was to swim away and distance herself, but never truly escape from the very same flow.

It was awkward for a while until Yvonne broke the silence again. Feisty as ever, she never knew when to stop.

"How are you doing these days? Daddy dearest still being a prick? You should consider snapping off his leash, ditch him off! Heck, I'd show you the ropes. It'll be fun!"

"No, you silly! He's still my dad. And no, he never put a leash on me!" The banter ended with Kirsten punching Yvonne's other shoulder and having another giggle followed. Even being trapped in such circumstances, Kirsten knew there was still merit in all of this. For instance, she didn't have to worry about getting burns.

Though she knew the fire could be closer than she ever imagine.

"Anyway, who's the guy? He is just standing there like a statue." it was obvious that Kirsten was referring to the lonely foreign swordmaster standing next to the table. "Is he even breathing...?"