The question wasn't really addressed to her, but Tyaethe dropped back all the same, hissing a brief "Daisy!" as her mount started to take an interest in… was that Gerard, or Gerard's horse? Honestly, she couldn't tell, he was such an unfriendly beast at times.

"Consider it a perk of being a knight. Sometimes, you just get to go places and enjoy their food without fighting because someone else has business there."

"Because," she said, slowly and clearly, "A daisy is white, and he's a white horse. And flowers are pretty, and he's a very beautiful horse, aren't you boy?"

Gertrude floated alongside the knights, a thoroughly unimpressed expression on her face. A few seemed to be just as off-put as she was that they were being sent to interrogate a madman. Old age? Disease? Too many siblings for parents? It didn't seem the sort of matter for a contingent of knights to occupy themselves with, but with the medical and magical experts already called in and nothing to show for it, she supposed a horde of dunderpates might as well give it a shot.

A noble probably wouldn't have had a hack mage called in unless they were someone's nephew, but it was possible she could pick up on something that even an experienced finger-wiggler wouldn't. The rest seemed a bit excessive, save for the alchemist, but apparently the Roses had enough bad experiences in this forest to warrant considerably more firepower than Gertrude thought they needed.

Still, the lout wasn't completely wrong. Names had power, and it seemed that this wood had historically more than enough animosity for the Roses. It would be best to remain alert, so Gertrude opened her senses up as much as she could to the presence of mana, trying to tune the vampiric nexus out as much as she could.

...Goddesses, that woman could fawn over a horse.

"Think they'll let me cast on the old sod," Gertrude called up to Fanilly, "if I promise it's to his benefit? I mean, if you can't trust the Roses, who can you trust?"

"It would be best if you didn't refer to Duke Thedric in that eway once we've arrived," Fanilly commented with a wince. Not that she necessarily expected the coarse-tongued mage to listen, but she had to try, if nothing else.

"Though, given they've already sought the assistance of mages, I'm certain they'll allow to you cast on him, as long as it helps to discover what happened."

If it was as she feared, Fanilly wasn't certain there would be any way to cure Duke Thedric's mind. At the same time, however, there were no reports of any kind of violence.

The fact that the madness suddenly emerged abruptly, with no prior signs of any sort of mental decline, when he awoke one morning...

Was it possible the shard was being used in some sort of plot targeting the nobility?

Fanilly had to confess she doubted that possibility, moments after it rose in her mind. It wouldn't be a very efficient way to try and remove them from power.

But it certainly seemed as if something strange had happened.

The stone-and-wood walls of Brennan loomed ahead, now. It wasn't as large as Aimlenn, certainly, but even from outside it was clear that Brennan's healthy trade had granted it a great deal of resources.

There was a shout from atop the walls, and the great doors opened ahead of them.

A young man with dark hair and green eyes, clad in fine blue-and-orange clothing with a sword on his hip and a cape on his back was there to greet them. Behind him stood an entourage of Brennan's garrisoned soldiers.

"While I can't say I expected it, I'm glad you've come to offer your aid, Knight-Captain," the man said as he stepped forward, bowing his head, "I am Sir Aglan, and I wish I could welcome you and your knights to our city in better times."

He let out a heavy sigh.

"You may take your horses to the garrison stable, after that---"

He hesitated a moment.

Fanilly took a moment to glance past him. Brennan hardly seemed to be in a particularly unusual state. The stone path lead deeper into town, the buildings here near the gate made primarily of wood. But past them, she could see larger, stone buildings, and in the distance the second set of walls around the Duke's manor.

There were people visible, too, going about their daily business.

If she had to guess---

It was almost certain the matter of the Duke's madness had been kept from the people of Brennan.

"---After that, it's best that you come and see the situation for yourself."

---

"---And that's the proof that I am Prince Erion, and by my word, it is time to begin baking the cake that will reach the heavens!"

Of all the things that Fanilly had expected, upon hearing of Duke Thedric's madness, this was nothing like any of them.

His manor was a tall, stately building, surrounded by a small garden. It took up less space then a castle, but it still spoke of its lords' taste in natural surroundings and greenery.

But the lord within...

He was as Fanilly remembered him. Older, of course, but still tall and with a muscular, robust body. A thick, dark beard tinted with grey was matched by a full head of hair, and his blue eyes were bright.

But he was wearing a bright pink dress, stretched over his muscular form, and thrusting a baguette into the air.

"Now, come with me, comrades! We shall conquer the Kingdom of Pudding! We shall celebrate with the Lamplighters every day! And I shall sing the Song of Lythenne!"

Did Duke Thedric even know the Song of Lythenne's untranslated high elven lyrics?

"... As you can see, it's almost like a parody of madness," Sir Aglan said with a heavy sigh, as Duke Thedric lept onto his bed. It creaked audibly, "But nothing has worked to recover his wits. He simply woke up and began acting... like this."

Fanilly hesitated. What did she say? This certainly wasn't the work of a shard of Angroron, but---

"I... I see," she began, "Did anything unusual happen, er, the night before?"

"I wish you were the first who asked that, because then we might have an answer," Sir Aglan responded wearily, "Alas, no-one seems to have seen anything. There was a party late into the night, Duke Thedric retired to his bed afterwards, and awakened having gone mad."

---

Waking up in his room, Vier took a moment to collect his thoughts after the experiences he gained in Talderia. Groaning a bit, he rolled out of bed and opened his windows, letting the night air cool him off as he shook the sleepiness from his eyes. Leaning on the windowsill, he looked out at the area and sighed.

The weeks of training hit him all at once, and it took him some time to sort it out. Vier had a lot more experience to work with, and a new tool within his arsenal through shield focused magic. While his body was well rested, his mind was tired after it all, and he simply spent his days busying himself with menial tasks and training to get back to a routine.

---

The trip was a bit longer than he’d have liked, but the mundanity was a welcome bonus. Dealing with a monarch’s madness didn’t quite seem like a job for knights so much as a doctor. Still, it was work, and

Vier chuckles at the interaction between the knights, looking at the manor walls as they get closer to their destination. Out of all the things he wanted to learn when it came to becoming a knight, caring for horses was not something he could afford to take part in before he became a Rose, but the thought always was there.

---

”I don’t know what I expected…” For the first time in a while, Vier didn’t know whether to laugh or offer the duke a hug. Where did he get the dress, and why is he wasting the bagu-Right, madness. He leans against a wall and listens to the explanation of recent events, letting the skeleton for a timeline of events build up in his mind.

“Did someone slip anything in his drink? Anyone who could get in and out of this room without drawing suspicion?” While he wasn’t a detective, basic things like figuring out the how and why of the duke’s condition would help the more book smart members of the Roses figure out the who and what.

---

Fionn shook his head at Tyaethe. "Why not something more masculine, though? Like...oh, how do they say it out west, over in Demet..." He looked down, unfocused eyes gazing at Echaid's mane as his brow furrowed deep in thought. "No, wait, Blodwyn is a girls' name too...ah, Linden, that would work! They have nice white flowers, too!"

---

Upon witnessing the duke's madness in person, Fionn quickly turned aside from the rest of the group, pulling one of the servants over. "Aye, could you go grab me another baguette and a large pot lid? The sort that's got a handle, not a knob. Need to look right, like." The bewildered servant nodded once, quickly leaving the duke's bedroom. Fionn quickly returned to contemplating the duke himself.

The man was acting madder than a serious suggestion that Tyaethe rename her fully-grown horse would be, but like Sir Aglan had said, it nearly seemed like an act. Like a game being played by a child that didn't understand how humans would actually be as they lost their minds to age, disease, or the like. Still, a man of Thedric's age engaging in such an act was mad in and of itself, so the worry remained fitting.

In order to solve it the quickest and easiest, they'd likely need to hunt down the source of whatever had gone wrong in the duke's head, but asking him normally wasn't likely to result in any useful information...

"S-sir?"

Fionn turned back with a small jolt of surprise. The servant girl had returned quite a bit faster than he'd been expecting...though the manor was smaller than Candaeln, and likely she didn't want to remain in the vicinity any longer than absolutely necessary. He took the offered loaf of bread and lid with a nod, stepping past the rest of the knights with a very clear aim.

Sorry, captain, but this might get something useful.

Right for the mad duke himself.

"Your highness!" he called sharply, coming to a stop a couple feet away from the bed that Thedric stood so proudly upon. "You're getting ahead of yourself! How can we march to war when our forces seem to have scattered to the four winds?" Nobody could ever accuse Fionn of being a good actor with a straight face, although in the face of such a childish play good acting was hardly necessary. His voice wavered slightly, hoping that he could manage to sound distressed for a moment, and not break out laughing at the absurdity of it all.

But, ever the dutiful soldier, he still held his lid-shield smartly at his side, giving a measured—if shaky—salute with his bread-sword to his sworn prince.

"And in your court dress, for the Goddesses' sake! Where's your marching uniform? Has the jester stolen it from you again?"

Yes, but a linden was a tree; a solid and sturdy emplacement. She was naming a charger here; a noble mount for a battle. Most emphatically not a carthorse, nor something that she wished to test the sturdiness of. Much better if her horses never found themselves in such harm, as effective as a charge could be. This influx of mercenary footmen had reduced their ability to do that, and so far the vampire hadn't found reason to complain...

---

This...

Well, this situation was a farce. The lord appeared a man merely playing at madness rather than addled and now Fionn was playing along. Honestly... no, there was nothing she could offer here. Some prayer, perhaps, but that was just another reason to remove herself from this situation before it gave her a headache. And ruined any remaining good mood from the trip.

"If anyone needs me I'll be looking after the horses." There, that was something that needed doing, and someone had to help the stablehands out. Or make sure they hadn't gotten bitten...

"Seeking out pointers might not be a terrible idea, though I wouldn't fight from horseback if I could help it." Rolan had already several plans to abandon the horse should conflict come up abruptly, the only reason to not do so would be if a retreat was immediately in order. Even then, he suspected he had better odds making for the tree line and escaping through the woods, but that should not be needed. Before that train of thought could even start, however, Ser Renar interrupted, though for good reason it seemed.

"Ser Renar. It is fair to say I know a thing or three about alchemical mixtures, yes." Rolan met the quieter, lower tone with one of his own, recognizing an attempt at discretion when it was made. An interesting consideration, one that earned some respect from Rolan, more so than anything else. A safe concession to make that an untraceable poison, one that is wholly natural, would be too unlikely to be in play here. Especially one that simply struck the victim mad rather than dead. "I am inclined to agree, my concern is that all the mages and priests might overlook something mundane."

Ser Fionn made a broad question to everyone, though Tyaethe seemed to assume they would just be idling around while the Captain worked, investigated, and waited for orders. Oh no, he would not be idle simply because there was no combat to be had. Even if he could not cure the madness, he could look into how it came about. Gertrude continued to be herself, once again reminded that the part of him hoping she had not come back with them had been thoroughly disappointed, but she could banter and argue with the other practitioners of the magical arts. Ser Aglan was a tad younger than expected, but judging by the general peace and calm of those they passed, it was safe to assume that the madness of the Duke was a well kept secret right now. Hopefully seeing the madness first hand would give them a hint as to what caused it.

---

"I am at a genuine loss for words..."

To say Rolan was even more confused than before would be an understatement. The moment he laid eyes on the Duke and his antics, it was safe to rule out anything natural. He could make something that would leave someone delirious, probably, but not to this extent and certainly not for this long. That meant it was probably something magical in nature, which placed it much further outside his realm of debatable expertise. Ser Vier seemed concerned about something being slipped into drinks, which was a reasonable direction to look, however, anything he could think of in a drink would have worked out of the Duke's system by now. Fionn, Fionn started engaging the Duke in his own madness, causing Rolan to blink in disbelief at the display. No, no, he was not going to touch on that one at all, rather he stepped over to speak quietly with Ser Aglan to ask his own question while Tyaethe declared her intent to tend to the horses.

"Ser Aglan, where did this party take place, in specific? And has anyone else been stricken mad? I am hoping something was overlooked where the party took place, and since I assume we do not want word of this madness spreading, asking the other party goers would not be wise." Rolan intended to investigate where the party took place, since the secrecy around the Duke's madness meant he could not go asking the others present at the time what happened. It had to be better than standing around here watching a grown man parade around in a dress too small for him. Honestly, at least have the decency to have it properly fitted before madly dancing around in it.

"Sir Fionn, what are you---"

Fanilly could not quite help but stare in wordless shock, wide-eyed, at her knight's actions.

He had just decided to start playing along with Duke Thedric. Leaning entirely into the parody-like madness being expressed by Brennan's lord.

The Duke blinked, and then his wide, bright eyes seemed to take on an entirely different glow.

"Ah-hah! You're right! My marching uniform...!"

Hurling the baguette to the side, knocking several nearby items to the floor as it landed uncerimoniously, the Duke marched over to his dresser and picked up what appeared to be a spare maid uniform.

Without removing the dress he was already wearing, the muscular noble proceede to pull it on, fabric audibly stretching and tearing as he did.

"I apologize for my uncouth behavior! Now, to conquer the Kingdom of Pudding! To strike down the tyrannical Rectangles!"

Fleuri Jodeau

There were a few things that Fleuri took note of as he observed this spectacle. First, as Sir Aglan noted, the Duke's state was a parody of madness. For all his eccentric ramblings, he was at least speaking in full sentences, didn't appear to have hurt himself or anyone around him, and judging by his response to Fionn's indulgence of his delusions, could understand and respond to what was spoken to him. It definitely wasn't anything like the murderous insanity that had afflicted the soldiers at the fort.

There was also the very important detail that mages and clergy hadn't been able to find anything wrong with him. Was it possible that for whatever reason, he was entirely lucid, that he might be acting this way for a reason?

"Gertrude," Fleuri spoke up. "You have knowledge of magic that neither the clerics nor mages that attended to him would have access to. Can you discern any manner of magic that might be afflicting him?"

If neither mages, nor clerics, nor a witch could find anything wrong with the Duke, it might be worth considering the possibility that the Duke is putting on an act. If so, surely such a man would not do such a thing without a very good reason.

@Octo

Gertrude was a little taken aback. She had hoped Fanilly might interrogate her: what do you plan to cast? Are you planning on doing something bad? How can I trust you with a task of this import if you behave like you do?

She liked when people disbelieved and distrusted her, she felt it proved a point. Instead she only got a mild admonishment, which wasn't near the reaction she had hoped for. She clicked her tongue.

"I'll be a perfect lady in front of the mad codger, no need to worry," she replied, a mask of smug over her face.

---

'Mad codger' may have been more apt than Gertrude had intended. She had imagined a forgetful old man, or maybe a violent one. It looked more like the duke was putting on a one-man play, and a poorly-written one at that. Unless he was making liberal use of metaphor, but Gertrude hadn't been there since the start, so she doubted she had the context for interpretation.

Without missing a beat, the lout immediately began joining in the farce, and Gertrude found herself mildly amused. She doubted Fionn had the acting chops to imbibe the lunacy in a way that would give him any insight, but it was funny at least. Gertrude looked down at her own maid uniform.

"Am I in royal marching uniform now?" she mumbled to herself, turning to Fleuri when she was called on.

"I may be able to come up with something. If not now, then when the duke is sleeping. It will be easier to analyze the old goat when he's not thrashing about," Gertrude replied, shrugging, "but until then, might as well enjoy the show, eh?"

It was disturbingly obvious that Gertrude was getting some level of amusement out of the whole situation. Still, she had a job to do. She closed her eyes, and tried to block out all distractions, concentrating only on the flow of mana. The presence. The scent. And what she came up with... was odd. She opened her eyes.

"It's magic," she announced plainly, "but that much seems obvious. It's certainly not the type I use, and it mustn't have been the type a priest uses either. It's queer. Could be fey or demonic or something cast by an idiot with more mana than sense. It will require more investigation, but it's probably something fixable. Probably."

Oh goddesses oh fuck this was pure comedy and he couldn't laugh-

Renar presented a completely straight, impassive face as Duke Thedric made an utter fool of himself, all the while howling on the inside. What a godsdamned idiot! If there was one thing Renar took humor in, it was laughing at fools. And right now, the good Duke was the biggest fool of all.

Still, they had a job to do here. Renar shoved all of his amusement at the situation into its own compartmentalized box and shoved it into the back of his mind, getting down to business as he considered the situation. Their new resident mage had already declared this to be the work of magic, and as much as Renar didn't trust her overall reliability, he had no reason to believe she didn't know what she was talking about when it came to the arcane. Fey or demonic, then? Well, this was something of an easy first choice, in that case.

"We can determine whether or not it's one of those rather quickly, can't we?" He turned to Fionn, patiently waiting for him to stop playing along before continuing.

"Fionn, how much contact do you have with your...special friend? I'd imagine she could clear up whether or not this was fey influence."

@Octo @The Otter

Gerard Segremors

@The Otter@Psyker Landshark@Octo

If he were still the country hick he'd entered the wider world as in first joining the Black Regiment, he likely would have bought this wholesale. A grown man, a Duke no less— donning a maid's dress, waving about a baguette on a crusade against pudding? Oh, the horror! His mind! Truly addled, m'lord! As though it'd been destroyed in his grasp!

You got more than your yearly share of crazies, though, after about a month of sellswording, even in a competently-run free company. Thus, he eyed the proceedings with the same suspicion as everyone else, mouth a thin line as Fionn joined in, "yes and"ing the act as though testing where the Duke would go with it... until his ears picked up what Gertrude was saying. Fey magic was on the table?

Then the situation had just gotten a lot hairier.

"We're at the feet of a great old wood." he muttered, turning to their maid-witch companion and his blueblooded peers."If he ever had cause to enter the bush, there's reasonable chance there's a fairy ring or some other territorial marker nearby. I can think of few things I'd rather do less than take a wrong step and suddenly be an uninvited guest in one of their Realms."

---

Fionn nodded at the duke's sudden addition of clothing, silently making note of the sudden change in the man's expression. Whatever had a hold of Thedric, it had done so fairly well—and if he had to guess, it was something that would be capable of enjoying whatever game was going on. "Aye, aye, that's all well and good, but like I said, what about the rest of your forces? We'll need to gather them, my own cohort won't be nearly enough...what of your court mage, at least? Where've they got off to?"

He leaned in, taking a conspiratorially low tone, heedless of the others for the moment: "We'll need to find the mage regardless—I've no doubt they've been in contact with members of the Puddings, and as your loyal piemaster I am oathbound to warn you that we've recently been infiltrated by some of their raisins..." Wait, one of the others was talking to him. He turned back, breathing a short apology—"Ah, a moment, your highness. It appears my agents here need me.

"You mean, Fiadh, aye?" he asked, turning quickly to Renar. "I keep telling you, you ought to make the time to actually meet her...but we haven't worked out any summoning yet. This sort of play, though, our duke probably was a wonderful target; Gertrude, you've met Fiadh. Think you could try to summon her in, while I see if whatever has caused this has planted some idea of its own role in it all in his head? I can't think of anything else that would make him regress to this level of childishness than some outside influence. Most of the madness I'd see in the village back home or with the mercenaries was someone losing their minds after eating some poisonous mushroom or the like, or finally killing themselves with drink."

All that the Knight-Captain could manage was mute shock, as Sir Fionn directly engaged Duke Thedric in his madness. And indeed, it had to be madness. While it seemed like some kind of parody, almost a theatrical performance, for what reason would a man like the Duke possibly keep this performance up for so long even when investigated by both clergy and magi?

Without a single crack showing?

It didn't make sense.

But what could cause such a childish and incoherent form of madness? It didn't feel like anything natural, but it couldn't be a performance, so what---

"Lady Gertrude? It is magic, then?"

But not the sort used by a priest, nor most magi.

Fanilly let out a heavy sigh. While it wasn't what they were looking for, at the same time they couldn't simply allow the Duke to continue in this witless state. As the Knight-Captain, she couldn't turn away, even if she hadn't the faintest idea of where to begin. She had no deep knowledge of magic, but Gertrude had mentioned that it could be the work of something fey or demonic.

How did they begin looking for such a thing?

She had to help. There was no way she turned away and did nothing. But where did she even start?

"Raisins?!"

The Duke let out a gasp of shock.

"I can't abide such treachery! This must be the work of the King of Ducks!"

He thrust his fist into the air, then pointed forcefully towards Sir Aglan.

"Horse, bring me my knight!"

The Knight sighed heavily.

"In a moment, your grace..."

But then, another voice spoke.

"I couldn't help but overhear. You say it was likely fey, or demonic?"

The source of the voice was a handsome, or perhaps beautiful man with dark purple and black robes and long, straight purple hair.

Fanilly recognized him swiftly as the King's court mage. She heard he'd been sent to attempt to resolve the Duke's situation, but hadn't expected to meet him so quickly.

"I suspected as much, but such things are difficult to determine in these situations," he commented as he approached Gertrude. After a moment he seemed to realize not everyone here had met him before and bowed his head.

"Arken Heartwood, Court Mage to his Highness the King."

He swiftly straightened.

"I must commend your new mage, Knight-Captain, it's not a common skillset that can determine the origins of such subtle and strange magic. But I wonder... did you feel it? There's something missing from him, as well, though I struggle to be certain of what."

Something missing? Fanilly wondered just what that could be. It had to be the reason the Duke had lost his mind.

"Mmm, I should have predicted the King of Ducks' treachery, after what the Moonlit Queen told me during the party!" declared the Duke, "She was an unexpected guest, after all, so it must have been important."

---The Moonlit Queen, during the party?

It could just be the madness speaking, but it seemed like a direct reference to something that actually occurred in reality.

"You said you met a Moonlit Queen, Duke Thedric?" Fanilly found herself asking, stepping forward.

"Of course! I hadn't seen her in many years, but there she was! She spoke of many things, many things indeed!"

It was still tinged with a manic intensity, but at the same time the party had occurred in reality.

Did that mean, possibly---?

"Can you tell us more about the Moonlit Queen?"

This time it was Arken Heartwood who spoke.

A look of confusion crossed Duke Thedric's features.

"Surely you all know of her! But anyway, she was quite pleased I still remembered her after all this time! And after that, she told me all about the Rhombus Company and their evil plot!"

It wasn't just her, was it? Obviously the 'Rhombus Company' was a figment of Duke Thedric's maddened imagination.

But something about the way he spoke of this Moonlit Queen---

---

Progress, for sure; dealing with a man in a state like Thedric's meant that finding any leads in his words was likely to be a difficult task no matter what, and Fionn agreed with Fanilly and Heartwood's speculation that this may well be one. The risk remained that it was just another figment of his imagination, but rather than ranting about ducks, desserts, and diamonds and their various rulers, having a name as positively myth-like as 'the Moonlit Queen' made it seem like something outside the rest of the act. The worst that could come of it would be to find out the duke meant some mannequin or stand he'd seen under a window that same night.

Regarding something of the duke himself being missing, with all of this...to say that Fionn was starting to have certain suspicions brewing in his mind would be an understatement. Hopefully Gertrude could summon Fiadh in after all.

"Ah, your highness, I don't think most of my agents are so familiar with such high society as of yet," he said, attempting to placate the madman's momentary confusion, sliding back into his role as Thedric's loyal spy—pie master. "Do you think you could gain us an audience with the Moonlit Queen? Surely, dropping in as such a surprise, she can't live too far away."

Not quite gone to the stables yet, the vampire came sliding back in at alarming velocity—not too fast to follow, not any more, but still demonstrating a frightening turn of speed. To, apparently, perch perilously on a purloined chair and hold the duke's chin in her hand, gazing straight ahead as if she was trying to peer into his soul.

Which she probably wasn't.

"Well, that—oh-ho, a staring contest, is it? Very well, I have been preparing all my life for this against the local cats!" At least the duke seemed to be taking this in stride. If he had practised against cats, it might even stand him in good stead, Tyaethe's gaze was about as consistent.

Only after the duke was finally forced to concede to the unblinking stare did she kick back and sit in the chair, looking grumpy. "Not actually the moon, and definitely not Mayon. Something felt… less? I'm a priest; not a wizard.

"An audience would be nice…"

Would vampire puppy dog eyes work? At least, without actually being a puppy. It might help Fionn's plea.

Rolan was listening to each piece of information in turn, though his original request for where the party had taken place fell on deaf ears. Or overwhelmed more likely, given Ser Aglan was forced to put up with the madness of the Duke. Genuine madness, deliberately inflicted if Gertrude's words were to be believed. Magic, either fey or daemonic, and given how close they were to such old woods he would bet on the former, if he were a man to wager on such things. He wasn't, mind, he was not a fan of gambling when all that was at stake was coin, let alone when it was the mental state of a person, even one he had very little dealings with beyond this maddened state. Relatively benign right now, but he had to consider how to incapacitate the man should he become more problematic. The numbing poisons he used should still work, the magic didn't seem to enhance him, just strike him sensibilities mad, so he could immobilize the man with relatively little effort if the need arose. He would hope it wouldn't, but that would not be for him to decide.

The focus seemed to be on the Fae as the culprit, or at least involved, fortunately the other knights had more dealings with them than Rolan did. As far as his understanding went, he had been taught the signs to look for and avoid when hunting growing up, one of the few things of worth his father had imparted, knowledge wise, as to not intrude on the courts of the Fae. He was confident he could likely identify the boundaries of such places in the surrounding woods. He had a feeling that nothing they could do would lift this madness so easily, which meant petitioning the Fae to remove it. It did not take a master intellect to know that would not be as easy as just asking, and they would likely want something in return. Summoning one to confirm the magic at play would not be a bad idea, but not something he could help with in the slightest. His train of thought was interrupted by a rather attractive mage, deep regal purple from head to toe, complimenting Gertrude on her identifying the likely sources of the madness magic. Great, she didn't need her ego stoked, though the mage couldn't have known that.

Rolan briefly considered whether being attractive was a requirement to serve in the king's court directly or just a bonus qualification, but put it aside for now. They weren't here to gawk at beautiful people, they had work to do. An interesting title got mentioned by the Duke, the Moonlit Queen, which the others latched onto rather quickly. Let them continue to entertain the mad Duke, Rolan turned his attention to the surroundings. If they could not be told where the party happened, the next best thing was determine where the boundaries of the Fae holdings were. Scouting was something he could absolutely do, and he really rather would not sit here and continue to idle, twiddle his thumbs, or join Tyaethe in puppy dog eyeing the Duke. He spoke as an aside to Ser Aglan, not interrupting the others in their approach of the mad Duke and his ravings, before turning to depart. "Once the others are done with their..."audience", do let them know I went to scout out where the boundaries of the suspected culprits behind this lay. Once they gather all they can from his ravings, not having to waste time looking for a destination would be preferred. Especially if we're looking for a "Moonlit Queen's" court."

Fleuri Jodeau

Fleuri listened to Gertrude's words, then the words of the newly arrived court mage. According to Gertrude, there was magic, likely fae or daemonic. Meanwhile, Arken sensed something was missing. Even with Fleuri's very limited knowledge of magic, he could tell that something supernatural, something far beyond that of an ordinary mage, was apparently behind this.

As Fionn and Tyaethe continued to play along with the Duke's ramblings, and Rolan turned to depart to carry out preliminary scouting in hopes of finding any whiff of the fae, Fleuri turned to Arken.

"You appear to have arrived in Brennan before us, Court Mage. Have you been able to glean any other leads prior to our arrival?"

From Arken's questioning, he seemed intrigued at the mention of this Moonlight Queen, which suggested that up until this moment, he may have not heard the Duke mention her.

@VitaVitaAR