[h3]Madara[/h3]

	There was a pause after her words, dense, nigh tangible. It sought for an answer; though she could not see its expression from her vantage point - if there even was one to be seen among all the glamour -, she could almost feel it reach the conclusion even before it voiced it. [i]It didn't know.[/i] And simply as that, the burning sensation threatening to cook her inside out was reduced to almost nothing. 
	Feveesha mustn't have had the time to tell it. The most [i]obvious[/i] reason to call upon a more potent ally would, of course, have been as simple as "save me", though  less common motives wouldn't have been unheard of. In any case, it was now too late for the former, alas. Their new acquaintance would need to find a new purpose in life. 
	 
	"Thank you for easing the burden on us." She figured it was safe enough assumption that if it knew enough to withdraw it, it was more than enough well aware what effect divine energy had on mundane life. It was [i]safe[/i] information. And by all means, she was quite relieved she had less divine energy to endure.
	Her shoulders relaxed slightly,though she didn't immediately move from her position as Irah, now more composed, took over the talking once more. For a while, she simply listened, absently brushing off invisible motes of dust from her shoulder. 

[h3]Sir Yanin Glade[/h3]

	The human knight's helmet was about as impassionate as could be expected as the man behind the visor observed the reflections of the illusions being dropped, one by one, and - as claimed by Madara, who seemed to have more keen magical senses than him - the angel withdrawing its divine influence from them. 
	That alleviated, but did not wholly remove [i]one [/i] problem. Even if it had opted out of passively wearing them down where they stood - for now -, it did not mean that the divine didn't continue to accumulate more energy for its own use. Time was still running out, merely slower. 
	[i]This divine was fallen?[/i] Claimed to be so, at least. The fallen could drift from the forms and abilities they would ordinarily have had. Whether the ability to draw energy from the divine realm directly was dependent on the thalk having a connection to a deity or even more innate to their kind than that, Yanin didn't know. As far as he could reckon, it could go either way. 

	The question of whether the bandits were the same ones they had independently considered hunting down, however, was much simpler to answer. 

	"Indubitably," he affirmed, turning his head slightly. It was a small town; everyone Jordan or himself had spoken to had confirmed there [i]was[/i] no other healer to speak of in Borstown, and both the resident Fadewatchers and Lady Bor's men had been rendered functionally inoperable - not that there had been many of the latter to begin with. Just three, one killed, one MIA, and one injured. "I saw the dead and was speaking with the locals before the the alarm rang. The bandits left both the manor and town defenseless and bleeding."
	[i]Not a wise situation to find yourself in when hosting opportunists of every ilk. [/i]
	All the while, he was watching Freagon as keenly as he did anything else happening in the room, seeing him test out the flames and perform other, minute actions that could just as easily be precautions [i]just in case[/i] as they could be indicators that he was still fully intent on remaining true to his words and trying to banish the angel as soon as any opportunity presented. The worst possibility wasn't that Yanin would need to fight the divine - it was having to deal with both Freagon [i]and[/i] the divine concurrently, with unknown input from the others. 
	
	Thalks - if that was what it was, or had been - were known to be schemers, derived from people who had used others. Even now, it was entirely possible it was just trying to use them, somehow. It couldn't be fully trusted - but as far as the human knight knew, the same could be said for nearly anyone he met, even most of his allies. In that regard, it was hardly different from anyone else. 
	There was no telling what had lead it down whatever path it had taken in life - actual evil by nature, or unfortunate circumstance. Someone else in Yanin's place - born to a minor tyrant, a fearful mother who didn't have time to care, watching people covertly work to undermine one another and hiding behind smiles and courtesy, while having little ability to tell a true smile from a fake ... he did what he did because he thought it was right, despite everything. Maybe it was the few people he was relatively confident were actually good, and the hope that many others were, too, maybe it was, in some weird twist of fate, [i]because[/i] he was an exceptional fighter but equally poor manipulator. If he was the opposite, a skilled negotiator with little ability to defend himself from physical threats?
	Didn't really take that much for the average person to end up on the wrong side. Becoming an angel effectively erased your past. Could give 'Caleb' here the benefit of the doubt for now, especially since... If it, indeed, was fallen, what, if anything, would even be waiting for it back in the divine realm it came from. 
	Fuck it, could be a cruel and unusual punishment by itself. 

	Deo'Irah introduced herself, as Caleb had, and the illusions - presumably the final ones - were dropped. Irah's words seemed to confirm that a fallen thalk would indeed, not have the usual advantage of pouring in divine energy usually associated with their kind. [i]Definite knowledge or conjecture?[/i]
	"I concur with her; as long as I can remain reasonably confident you have caused no undue harm to anyone in these lands, there is no reason to detain or send you back." 
	It wasn't the only issue. There were always two or more sides to each matter, and even [i]if[/i] Caleb behaved itself, the fallen angel's presence alone was wont to draw some unwanted attention. Lady Bor had sworn at the witch-hunters rather than blaming the Melenian. Could be a bit more sympathetic than most. He had absolutely no idea if any other villagers would be as open-minded, even if, strictly speaking, Deo'Irah and Lhirinthyl were the ones still alive committing all the crimes. 
	Not that the ones outside would have any knowledge of it yet - hopefully -, but they nevertheless needed to be more conservative with their knowledge, skill and illicit substances. Even if they could trust the ones in here, more people with some knowledge and the ability to discern minute discrepancies were bound to notice sooner or later, and even if he himself didn't see the worth in taking someone down for no good cause, but rather simply treated the illegality of the means as aggravating circumstance where true evil had been wantonly brought upon those undeserving, not everyone would bother, or even [i]want[/i] to make the distinction.
	"Being a divine in itself is not illegal, but it's only so far I can control the prejudices of other people. You might still want to disguise yourself once it's no longer just us." Might be as soon as leaving the manor. Only a few more things to ascertain. 

	Shifting both the silver sword and truncheon to his left hand and dropping them both to his side (not that he truly let go of his readiness to fight), he finally stepped out from his position behind the door and over the threshold, carefully avoiding the abundant blood and observing the trails and markings in the room, placing himself just ahead of Freagon. 
	If Caleb hadn't believed Jordan's words of the silver swords not belonging to them, then the presence of another sword and dagger on his person, as well as the complete absence of anywhere to store the surplus arms probably confirmed it.
	"I am Sir Yanin Glade," he stated, simply. "Here's to hoping the day ends better than it began."

	He knew one Melenian had entered - no corpse remained. One guest was still, technically, unaccounted for. The fallen thalk was tall enough for even Yanin to be barely more than chin-height; it more than likely required more than just one female Melenian, slight as they were, to shape its flesh - if self-sacrifice was indeed even an option. So by means of simple elimination, that's where the unaccounted-for guest [i]should [/i]have gone.  
	[i]Wouldn't any attire remain behind? Objects that obviously belonged to the final guest rather than Feveesha?[/i] Footprints or handprints that weren't shaped like Melenian paws (she definitely wouldn't have been carrying anyone bigger than her in, bleeding as heavily as she did, that much was certain), signs of struggle rather than just the felid rummaging through her own things. Just a confirmation or contradiction. Lady Vela Bor or her servants might know who it was, at least, but he still figured it deserved checking. 
	There was a rustle somewhere behind him, and Lhirinthyl attempted to brush past, evidently noticing the tattered book on the bed. He didn't get far before a gauntlet fell on his shoulder - somewhat ironically, not because Yanin was any more conscious of the fragility of their truce, but quite simply because the mage was trampling all over the scene he was still investigating. 
	"Wait," he noted to the deigan, and then, seemingly aimed at Caleb, even if his posture seemed to indicate he was still observing the room "Would you happen to know if any of the things in the room - other than the furniture - are not Feveesha's?"