[h3]Sir Yanin Glade[/h3]

	The fallen thalk confirmed 'broken one' had been referring to Freagon as the human knight had assumed, although it didn't seem to be willing - or able - to describe in words what exactly a broken soul entailed, or what phenomenon would produce one. 
	Could be that the older nightwalker was indeed somewhat more than the already remarkably rare instance of someone who might actually be able to hold against The Viper himself - all other things being equal, Yanin was just as fast and strong, with slightly more reach and unhindered by scars, but ultimately also pitting sheer unmatched reflex and endurance against what was bound to be entire decades of additional experience. Appearing out of seemingly nowhere, insisting that he was a member of centuries-dead order, with no estate or apparent wealth, but yet wearing enough equipment to be able to buy an entire small duchy for himself. A man who had, [i]somehow,[/i] managed to break his soul. In comparison, the origins of Sir Yanin Glade and his ranks were about as blatantly clear as they could be. 
	Yet another thing to keep in mind for later. 
	
	Caleb and Feveesha making a break for it happened in southern Gilmah, about half a decade ago... He would have been still living at [i]home[/i] then, yet to be knighted, but already with bit of a local reputation. Slightly more immediately aware of political happenings, slightly less involved in actually protecting the country.
	More than a dozen fully summoned angels could do a fair bit of damage - much more than a lone fallen thalk, never mind the peculiarity of so many showing up in one place. Enough that there had been a passing mention or two within his earshot, at least. Probably closer to slightly more than six years ago to date.  
	"Most likely unnecessary," the knight commented when the divine stated it could lead them to the place it had spent many a year trapped. It was a site of a massacre that had garnered some public attention - if Hai'vreh'era was still walking this realm and in the same business, he would have nigh indubitably set up camp elsewhere, and not only could they track the original site down without Caleb's aid, but others before them had probably turned every rock there was to turn in the place. "I doubt it'd lead to Hai'vreh'era, if left alive, or his potential superiors - but someone will need to put an end to it, if they're still in business. Do you, by any chance, have at least an inkling what the divines or mundane slaves were kept for, or any other names that might have been mentioned?"
	There were still things - [i]urgent[/i] affairs - they needed to be taken care of, but given that Caleb's connection to this realm could be sundered any time between now and the next opportunity to speak, by will or violence, Yanin figured some things needed answers [i]now[/i], lest they lost even that thread. 
	All the while, he could only hope it was something individuals with comparatively marginal standing could hope to unravel, and not something conspired by the functionally untouchables. 

	It wasn't the first time Caleb expressed displeasure at staying in Reniam over returning to Drigall, even if he had seemingly been fine with tolerating it for Feveesha's sake. Maybe there was a place for the fallen in the divine realm, after all. Strange thought. Yanin's home, after all, was liable to be rather unwelcoming, even if at least one of his more friendly family members still resided there. If anything, him visiting could increase the odds of him getting killed, so it was best to steer clear.  
	"What awaits you in Drigall?" he had asked before, but the divine had seemingly ignored him. It wasn't a functional question, but for once he was just curious. 
	
	Regrettable, the whole affair with Feveesha. Most of a life as a slave, six years of freedom starting from nothing, and then a momentary misjudgement. And that was that. Wiped out by quarter dozen vigilantes not ten minutes before someone more reasonable and well capable of containing both sides arrived. Should have been more careful. Should have observed the local laws, at least in public, among strangers. Should have many things... Fucking waste, all in all. 
	If Caleb deemed fit to answer this time, he had about a minute to do so before a louder shout from the hall - Yanin made out "Lady Bor" and something about a tracker, in Jordan's voice.[i] Company, then. [/i]
	"Lady of the house, I believe. Best to conclude it here and refocus on the bandits. Deo'Irah, if you'd do the talking?" Baroness Bor had cursed the witch-hunters. Here was to hope she would be at least somewhat tolerant of divines that were willing to be questioned. It was, strictly taken, not even illegal to [i]be[/i] one. Safest to assume she was keen enough to pick up on any attempts to obfuscate the truth of what happened. Being able to count to ten was probably enough to figure it out. Something a particularly bright and well-trained pet could do.