[Loras] Facing the nightmare (Taelian)

[Milana]

14 of Searing, 120 AV
Continued from here

She had not been outmaneuvered, she had been plowed through by the verbal equivalent of a charging bull. Milana tapped the arm of her chair as the passed out of the Manner, neither she nor Strous looking back to Taelian whom Milana was sure was following. In all honesty, she half expected him to throw her over her shoulder sprint to the gate. The thought made her romance, and the woman closed her eyes and rested her head back against the wood of her chair.

"Do you need something?" Strous' deep voice rumbled from behind her, his tone like stones rolling down a mountain, jarring but to Milana, it was somewhat comforting. Her eyes opened and she could just barely see Strous' forehead over the back of the chair, the wrinkles of his brow ever-present.

"No..." Milana signed and closed her eyes again, "I am just suddenly very tired." A grunt was her only response.

Her head was spinning, suddenly filled with thoughts of childish stories and the possibility of something gruesome happening within the walls of her small town. Was it really possible something like this was going on and she was somehow unaware? It seemed unlikely. Despite her demeanor, and frail exterior, Milana was meticulous and aggressive when it came to the workings of Loras itself. She monitored the trade-in and out, accounted forever piece of coin and jewelry that passed the gates, and made frequent trips herself to check on problems and disputes within Loras' walls. What's more, because of her connections with the Dewdrop Inn she was always made informed when people of... unsavory characters were staying within the town proper. In many ways Milana sat at the pulse of this small town, hearing everything even if she could not physically be there at any given time. Because of this the more she thought of what Taelian had said the more she felt her suspicions growing.

He likely has an angle to play, she thought, not opening her eyes, His manner and demeanor are all like a man who was not used to being refused, but his etiquette says he lacks any true noble upbringing.

These thoughts and more swirled in her mind. It just didn't add up. Why now? Why so suddenly? He had basically strongarmed her into complying, though if he had actually done something to her and his connections were true it would be he who would need fear the Finla. Her family, after all, was appointed to Alt Finla over Loras by Taldee Slodi herself, a fact Milana wondered if this Taelian realized. She was willing to bet that, should it come down to it, the Finla would side with her and her family over an outside party despite any services that may or may not have been rendered on the part of his organization or even him personally. She was an industrious person after all, and Milana and her family had done much to keep the flow of trade through Loras toward Grimholdt as steady as the coming dawn.

"Lady Milana!" A child's voice called from behind.

Milana opened her eyes, sitting up in her seat and looking over her right shoulder with a smile. A young boy was running toward them, no more than 5 or 6. Milana waved as the boy ran up beside her chair, half running half jumping as he held onto the arm as he spoke in a frantic rush, "Hey hey, guess guess guess what? Guess Wha!" He spoke in the excised fashion that all children did, and it made Milana laugh softly as she motion for Strous to slow the pace slightly.

"What is it?" she asked, leaning closer to the boy as if eager to hear his secret.

"My, my uh, my," He continued to babble, excited but struggling to piece together a proper sentence. After a few seconds of mismatched words and phrases framing something about a dog, the boys older sister and a pinecone his parents arrived to rescue their noble from the onslaught. The woman took the boys hand, picking him up to walk alongside the chair as her husband followed a pace behind, a basket of goods on his shoulder as they were heading to the market.

"His dog brought home a pinecone from the hunt this morning," the woman explained, the boy nodding eagerly, "And he wanted to show his sister before it..." She smiled and rolled her eyes, "Before it 'gets eaten by the dirty man'. He saw you and wanted to know if lessons were done."

With a laugh Milana situated herself back in her seat, resting a hand on her cheek as the smile remained while she answered, "Oh I see, a very important request indeed. I am afraid that lessons have only begun for the day." She directed this comment at the boy, whose smile faded slightly, "If you would like though you can go and visit her. I believe the lecture is a short one today so I do not think you would have to wait long." The boys eyes lit up, and he looked at his mother expectantly.

"No Rodrick, we have to go to the market remember? Your father has the latest leather works finished and needs to sell them now while the caravans are still arriving."

The boy looked like he would protest, but Milana raised a finger and dug into a small pouch kept in the inside of her chair. From it she removed a single farthing, raising it so the boy could see it glint before handing it to him, "Here, don't be troubled, Rodrick. Why don't you stop by the bakery on the way to the market? Tell them Milana sent you for today's special. That will ensure they give you the good stuff." She winked. For a moment the woman looked to protest, but the noble waved it away before sitting back in her chair once more, "Think nothing of it. I admit I am taken a bit by his charm. You are raising a fine man."

That, at least, made the woman smile and she dipped her head slightly while saying, "That is kind of you to say Lady Milana. I wish you the best today." With that the woman, the boy, and her husband hurried on ahead.

They were quickly approaching the market now, the smell of food, and the sound of voices steadily growing louder as they went. Glancing over her shoulder toward Taelian Milana would ask in a slightly raised voice, "It is growing closer to noon now. Would you like something to eat or drink? It would be on me of course."

[Taelian Edevane]

While Milana spent much of her mental energy analyzing Taelian and his aims, the Siltori focused on everything but her -- in his view she was merely the authority necessary to fulfill a deed, and she had already agreed to comply. Therefore, throughout the remainder of their journey from the manor to the south gate, the Ebon Knight kept a keen awareness of his surroundings. In particular, his eyes were drawn to merchants -- anyone with cargo -- and specifically any transporting of particularly large cargo. The most he had seen, though, had been a few horses transferring crates among their wagons. And, the crates were too small to fit human beings.

Before long they encountered some... child who had called on the noblewoman from a short distance. The Elf looked to him only with his peripheral at first, before turning his face to view the boy as Milana engaged with him in conversation. It was a hold-up, but the town was small enough that Taelian could mostly keep track of things as they moved. He was now maintaining his Spatial Perception again, and had even expanded the scope of it to cover much of the center of town. He could feel the heavy movements; the horses, the wagons, and so on. He wondered, too, if he could even refine it enough to allow for him to perceive the edges of internal shapes. If he could, perhaps he could pinpoint the captives and therefore assure the success of his claims.

Their bland conversation continued, and now his parents joined with him to preoccupy Milana's time. Again, though, Taelian did not particularly mind. He even opened a Window to monitor the south gate, a small portal that appeared much like a circling gust of wind before his eye. If anyone looked at him they would very easily be able to tell that he was a mage, but it wasn't really clear even what magic he was using. It might have looked like Elementalism; in truth, the strange spiral before his ivory eyes was likely to look like some childish construct, crafted by fascination.

He closed the portal as he saw nothing and no one approaching the gate. Their conversation continued, and Milana began to dig into her belongings to seek out a paltry gift for the child. Taelian audibly scoffed as he saw her hand him a single farthing, and more as she claimed it could be used to purchase... anything. His mother even put on her humble facade of denial -- unwilling to accept such a considerable gift.

As the family left, Taelian could not help but to remark, a smirk growing at the corner of his lips. "It's a single farthing. You may as well have thrown him the fresh excretions of your chamber-pot." Of course, it was rude to mock her 'generosity'. He was well aware that by acting as he did, he might have even been jeopardizing her compliance. But Taelian found such things difficult to store, and he didn't care for her offense.

She still offered him food. But it wasn't as if she held any deference for him -- it was a way of putting on airs, perhaps even distracting him longer so that the merchants would pass. Taelian refused, and did so with less than amiable humor.

"Unfortunately, nothing I would like to eat costs a single farthing. Ten, perhaps -- twenty if we're being more realistic. And... I'm not hungry, thank you. I'll eat with the cargo once we've freed them. Not until then."

From the corner of his view, he could see the woman he had come along with initially. She awaited a signal, and Taelian gave it, in the form of cracking a kink in his neck. Eleanor approached them then -- an Ashwraith of the Black Remedy, clad in studded black leather armor, with a thick braid of silver hair that ran nearly to her tailbone. She was pretty, with features leaning towards soft, but with sharp edges. She did not seem to particularly care for how she looked, though, with a small layer of dirt embracing her silver patterns.

"Ashwraith," Taelian greeted her.

"Cleric. I think I've found the Westweald traders we're looking for -- they're at the stables with their horses, a few wagons and several large crates. I think the horses are Necromancy-enhanced; they're larger, with stronger backs and legs. Built for heavy, heavy cargo. They should be approaching the gate soon, which means we should likely clear the way. If the couriers are Dranoch, then..."

"You're obviously an Ebon Knight," he replied.

"I am. Perhaps I should've worn something more casual, but, ah..."

"This is Milana," Taelian introduced the two. Eleanor examined the noble, and quirked a brow.

"Hello," she simply voiced. It was clear that neither of them belonged to a particularly congenial organization.

"What do you want to do if the cargo is what we think it is?" he asked.

"We need to kill the couriers," she replied. "Or at least test Shrivenflame on them. See if they're Dranoch or not."

"We should interrogate them. We can use our Shrivenflame to extract information. I don't want a public arrest -- it's better if Helena doesn't know we're on her trail."

"But she will, if..." Eleanor paused, beginning to ponder. She spoke quietly, though clearly enough that Milana would be able to hear. If she was already on board, then... "You're beginning to set up a checkpoint of sorts, right? Perhaps you should do this a bit more discreetly. They're still at the stable -- we can take the merchants and then examine their cargo without them there. Do you think the manor has cells?"

"I'm certain it has cells," he replied. "But..." the Elf paused to think. He was beginning to question his prior thinking; though he had been moving back and forth on this for some time. "Helena might not know we're onto her anyway -- this is just a routine check that we're enforcing, or so it should appear. If anything the public nature of it may force her to stop transporting bodies around the country. Could be a good thing."

The woman frowned. "I don't know. We get what we want either way -- and in one case we at least sabotage Westweald's credibility."

"Exactly," said Taelian. He was aware of Milana's proximity, but he didn't really care what she overheard. She was well aware of his thoughts and his machinations by now. "I say we continue as planned. You'll just need to ensure they come to us -- and that they don't unload the cargo more discreetly."

"Alright," she replied. "I'll monitor them from here."

[Milana]

Milana had to forcefully school her features at Taelian's rather curt, and outright insulting, response. Though she didn't show on her face as Milana turned away, the woman felt a sudden strong and rather violent emotion beginning to well up in her chest. The force of it made her hands tremble slightly, and she clasped them in her lap while she slowly breathed in and out in an effort to slow her heart rate. She could not afford to act rashly here, despite how much she really, truly wished to slap the smug man across his face. Words came unbidden to her mind, rebukes and similar snide remarks which she had to mentally tamp down into the deepest, darkest part of her souls. She could have said that the farthing was a mere pittance that would let the boy feel as if he controlled SOMETHING in this world. The bakery was once owned by her grandmother, and Milana had since kept a close relationship with the woman who owned it now. Just a farthing, a few unusable scraps of bread and sweets that couldn't be sold, and that were all it took to make a small child happy and content. Then let her not even start on the statement of her town's food. If only she could snap back if only she could say something...

Instead, Milana said nothing, fixing a calm relaxed expression on her features as she adopted the cool persona of nobility she was coming to rely on more and more. Her aunt had told Milana more than once how presence was the true power in this world. If she wanted to have any control over what was to come, she would have to approach this with the utmost calm and self-assurance. This person was driven, single-minded in his purpose. Milana just needed to ensure his actions did not jeopardize Loras as a whole.

As a woman approached Strous slowed his steps, his eyes turning to fully look her up and down with a frown. Milana glanced over as well, eyeing the woman as she was introduced, nodding slowly as she followed their conversation. Absently she wondered if this woman would be a bit more... diplomatic? Somehow she doubted that. She looked the picture of a woman who not only carried a blade but used it often. Her eyes, cold and hard as they were, for whatever reason did not give Milana that cold shiver that Taelian's had. That alone was enough for her to relax ever so slightly.

Listening carefully Milana glanced up at Strous who was watching both Taelian and this new woman closely. His eyes were those of someone with much more experience, more practice at reading people and situations that Milana herself, and because of this she found she had to rely on his senses and instincts. He did not offer any words of course. That wasn't his role. That, unfortunately, was a burden that fell squarely on Milana's shoulders.

When the words 'kill' and 'interrogate' came up Milana visibly stiffened, her face hardening as she stared at Taelian. It wasn't a conscious reaction, and her aunt would have been very disappointed in her niece's lack of control. She wanted to say something then, but the woman's calm voice steadied her somewhat. The noble's eyes wandered to the woman's then, examining her more closely now, updating her overall opinion. Perhaps Taelian wasn't the standard, but instead an outlier in the Covenant. That thought set Milana's mind ticking back into motion, the emotions fading down to a low simmer as she mentally turned the situation over in her mind.

When a break in the conversation came Milana spoke suddenly, a hard edge to her tone as she looked at Eleanor, "Ser Rannoch and I have come to a tenuous agreement. Neither of you is permitted to kill, or interrogate anyone until proof of these," she waved her hand in a circle as if searching for the word, "Drannoch exists. I also cannot permit you to damage Loras', or my own, reputation with Westweald without strong justification." Her voice brokered no argument, and she stared at Taelian for a moment before talking to Elenor once more, "I agree that this should be handled discreetly. I will have the Guards waylay this Caravan when we reach the stables. I will also personally speak with the caravan leader, distracting them while you commence your search. Do so following David's, the Guard Captains, lead to avoid undue conflict."

Milana raised a finger, still talking to Eleanor, "There will be no killing inside of the walls of Loras unless I have seen this proof as promised. As of now I still find it difficult to believe anything Ser Rannoch says, but I will act in Loras' best interest." Now, at last, she stared pointedly at Taelian, though seemingly impossible her eyes hardened further, "If you cannot abide these conditions Ser Rannoch, I suggest you make good on your threats and kill me now. I would rather die than have you dishonor me further, or dishonor the Finla with your actions within Grimholdt territory."

Again after a brief pause, she continued, resting her hands in her lap and looking forward once more, "Once your search has produced the proof you claim exists, I will provide you Loras' full support in detaining the merchants and confiscating the cargo. We do not have cells, Ser Rannoch," Milana said simply, "But we do have a fine blacksmith who creates the strongest chains this side of Alfos."

[Taelian Edevane]

Milana seemed to prefer Eleanor's offer of discretion -- which was fine by him. Perhaps the stables would've been the best option. They weren't all too far, and the commotion and volume of exposed information that resulted from such a visit would be reduced. Even if the couriers needed to die, at least the information could likely be detained. Helena wouldn't know she was actively being investigated by the Black Remedy, unless she knew already.

He didn't mind her terms, either. That they weren't permitted to kill or interrogate anyone without evidence -- it was far from objectionable. He didn't intend to do so in the first place; Taelian wasn't a mindless killer. He largely acted on behalf of what he believed was best for his nation, and otherwise had little interest in interfering with the prosperity of others. Whatever damage the Black Sigil had dealt to his concept of empathy, he had enough to understand that pointless brutality was an evil act. It was why he opposed the Dranoch in the first place, after all.

What came after his initial agreement, though, was somewhat stunning. Milana continued to be reasonable, but she laced her words with poison; poison that did not accurately describe the conversations they had shared before. First, she stated she did not believe a single word he had said, despite the proof he had offered. The Joseph's, at this point, were a fairly public affair and Taelian had commented quite specifically on the incident. Then -- she acted as if he had threatened her personally, or even the town. Eleanor eyed him strangely; skeptically, as if she did not believe Milana's words, but perhaps held some doubts. She had noticed Taelian becoming more ruthless of late -- more ruthless the more he gained power. It was natural for mages; their will to dominate others and assert their power always seemed to grow as their skills expanded. But Taelian . . . his change had been somewhat dramatic. From a shy and obedient Cleric, he had become a renegade. That was why -- part of her was willing to believe the girl, even as offended as her companion seemed to be by the noble's accusation.

"I have never threatened your life, or Loras' life. I specifically told you that I was acting to protect others from the undying. I even stated directly that I would not attack you regardless of your refusal. So -- calm yourself, Lady Milana. I am fine with your conditions; what is important is that we stop the shipment. I never intended to sacrifice Loras' economic stability in exchange for that goal."

What she said afterwards was certainly agreeable to him, and he nodded. "That is fine by me. We will go to the stables, then, and I will investigate the crates." Eleanor then gestured towards their destination. Taelian compliantly nodded to his fellow Ebon Knight, before glancing down at Milana to observe her expression. She seemed to carry more disdain for him the longer they shared proximity -- but that was natural. It had been the case with most others, for all of his life. And he understood why.

They shifted course; towards the stables. Before long, the short cobbled path led them to the entrance of the wooden building, expanded in size to allow for the steeds of the merchant class. Loras -- as a transit town -- certainly did make many compromises to benefit the adjacent trade elite, and a broad place to pack their mounts and cargo was one such compromise. Regularly, a town of three hundred people would require no such accommodations.

He could already see the horses in front. The merchants weren't there, but there did appear to be one laborer beginning to pack some of the crates onto one of the wagons again. There were more, though, in the storage house directly behind the stables, packed against the walls of the town.

"Where is David?" he asked Milana and Strous. "We don't have much time. They're about to leave, and--"

He didn't want to say it, but from his observations...

"Those crates look light. Lighter than they should be. Eleanor... they might have disposed of the cargo. But where could they be?" he asked.

"We'll need to check the back, and the crates themselves just to be sure. If they're completely empty, that means their contents were dumped here. But they're people; we'll be able to find them and distinguish them. Milana," the woman began, turning towards the noble, "Can you initiate whatever it is you intend to do? We have to hurry -- there are many lives at stake. Taelian and I should be able to find the people if we act now."

[Milana]

I will get what I want here. Whatever actions I must take.

Those words rang like a bell in Milana's mind as Taelian spoke, and she pointedly ignored him as they walked. She was crippled, not stupid. Perhaps he wouldn't harm her, though she doubted that was the case, but there was nothing preventing him from taking her family hostage. Nothing that stopped him from decimating her manor and its staff, subjecting her people to torture while she watched. Her aunt had said that was the sort of thing that nobility in other regions did after all, and Sil-Elaine especially had a... reputation.

Milana's eyes were fixed determinedly forward, but from behind her the edges of Strous' lips raised in a very slight smile. He was used to his employer's tendencies, and the old warrior found it a bit humorous to see this man, blunt and straight forward as he was, show if briefly his bemusement at the treatment. For the briefest, tiniest moment the bodyguard thought to speak up, but that was not his place. He was just a shadow in the background meant to be seen but not speak. Besides, nobles of every country were headstrong sorts, prickle as a spined weasel with the temper of a timberjack boar. He'd already learned this particular lesson and had no intention of repeating the course.

"He should near the gate," Milana began but cut off as Taeilan made his observations. She studied the crates being loaded, a frown starting to form as she looked between Taelian and Elenor with a raised eyebrow. She wasn't sure exactly what she had expected, but a line of suspicion was beginning to creep into her heart.

She took a moment to answer, but instead of words she motioned for the two to follow, indicating to Strous that she wished to speak to the Laborer. As the approached the man would pause, looking up at them in surprise before setting the box down and wiping his head against a sweaty brow.

"M'lady Milana, what are you doing here?" He spoke with a thick accent, common tongue but with such a strong regional dialect that it was difficult to follow. He was covered in dirt, his clothing worn but well patched and maintained. Milana recognized the man as one of the parents of a boy who came to lessons nearly every day.

"I heard that the merchants of Weastwesld were preparing to leave. I wanted to speak with them on some matters of business before they depart." As she spoke Milana looked at the horses, remembering that they were supposedly modified in some way. While they looked a bit off somehow, the inexperienced eye of the noble could not distinguish if they were really anything more than normal horses. Large yes, powerful of course, but she could not quite see anything that raised her suspicions toward the trading company as of yet.

"Business you say," Beken said, scratching his chin a moment in thought, "I don't know anything about that stuff. I leave that to you and the Captain. All I know is these Merchants are in quite the hurry." He thumbed over his shoulder toward the attached storehouse, "They are in there with the Guard Captain now."

"With Captain David?" Milana asked, surprised. He was supposed to be at the gate. Nodding Milana looked over her shoulder at Strous, "Lets go speak with the Merchants then and wrap this up. I would rather not waste any more of their time than necessary." She smiled at the laborer, who grinned a crooked smile in return, "Thank you Beken. Please let Lorane know that she is always welcome to visit the Manor whenever she wishes. I could use a skilled scribe."

Beken made a motion as if to tip his hat, "Will do Lady Milana, will do."

With that Strous began to wheel her toward the storehouse, but after they were a short distance away from Beken the bodyguard would tap Taelian on the shoulder, speaking softly, "This is the main storehouse for trade passing through Loras. There is another warehouse attached to the Southern Gate that is rarely used except for large cargo. It has an entrance into and out of Loras that circumvents the the main gate."

Milana's head snapped around, staring at Strous as he spoke, "I do not think that is relevant Strous." Her voice was harsh, the first sign of true anger in her town now as she continued to stare back at her bodyguard who simply kept looking forward. She looked at Elenor as she struggled to control her voice, "It is used for moving livestock, and temporary storage of large shipments that cannot be moved all at once toward Grimholdt. It is very rarely used, especially in Searing because of how hot it becomes."

"If I were trying to move something without anyone knowing," Strous said slowly, "I would use a path that few know about, and even fewer think about."

Milana looked as if she were going to say something else, heat rising her cheeks as she bit her lip before turning to face forward once more. She had actually forgotten about the storage area herself, and to have her bodyguard of all people point it out just felt... embarrassing. Not only was Taelian making a fool of her, now even Strous seemed intent on making her look incompetent.

Thankfully she did not have to brood long, for as they rounded the corner around the stable they ran into a man dressed in simple leather armor and chainmail, well maintained if not especially strong. The man wore no helmet, but carried a steel sword at his hip and looked as if he knew how to use it. Guard Captain David turned in surprise as they rounded the corner, his eyes flicking to Elenor and Taelian before settling on Milana. He offered a crisp salute, "Lady Milana, I received your missive. I was just heading back to the gate as you requested."

"David," Milana said, a few her heated emotions spilling over into her words, "I expected you at the gate, but I find you here instead. Correct me if I am mistaken Captain, but the stables are not the gates correct?"

"I..." he began, his salute wavering slightly, "I apologize. I received your missive and came here to waylay the merchants as you asked. I thought it best to catch them before the cargo was loaded, instead of when they were trying to exit."

It made sense, Milana thought, rubbing the bridge of her nose. David was only newly appointed to the position of Guard Captain, having held the position for a little over a year. He was a good man and came highly recommended by the now-retired Captain Tyran Malkea. Even her aunt had vouched for him, and her praise was not easily won. She took a breath and calmed herself before looking up at David, waving her hand idly, "No, you have done nothing wrong Captain. I was simply surprised." She motioned to Taelian and Elenor, "These two are assisting me today in some minor business. Strous will be escorting them to the Storehouse in the South Gate. Would you please take me to see the merchants inside? I have some things we must discuss before they depart."

Milana's words were spoken cooly, the lie coming easily to her, but at her words, David blinked in apparent surprise, "To the Storehouse? But there hasn't been any cargo there since last winter. Is this an inspection?"

"Of sorts." Milana sighed. To Strous she said, "Take Ser Rannoch and his companion to the Storehouse. The Captain and I will join you shortly."

David hesitated but accepted the handles of Milana's chair from Strous as the bodyguard motioned to Taelian and Elenor, leading them toward the storehouse.

Well, she thought, Lets get this over with.

[Taelian Edevane]

Everything that followed came very quickly, and like Strous, Taelian had allowed himself to fade into the background. He kept his eyes and ears focused on everything that surrounded him, while Eleanor closely followed the conversations ongoing so as to catch any potential act of treachery. For a moment he almost became lost in the footsteps, the moving men, the updates and the changes and the relaying of knowledge and news.

Taelian was broken from that spell by Strous, who informed him of something that quickly filled him with unbelievable dread. While he did wonder if Milana had been aware of that storehouse, particularly given her immediate insistence of its lacking importance, he was more worried that the monitoring he and Eleanor had been doing had been for nothing. He had displayed his cards -- he had even likely helped inform Westweald that two Ebon Knights were on their trail. But if the Dranoch managed to escape through that storehouse... then they were majorly set back. To the point where the Ebon Knights would have to flee Atinaw after all, like they had feared in Glade, after the Joseph's had killed Elindra beneath their feet.

He felt a surge of anxiety, and it lingered. Everything that happened after that -- it came even more quickly. The conversations, the introduction of the guard Captain who... was supposed to go to the south gate, but suddenly had gone off to the stables instead. To waylay them. But they were not waylaid, were they? He felt himself becoming increasingly paranoid. Everything seemed engineered somehow, though he couldn't exactly place his finger upon it all. Taelian was certain of one thing: the merchants knew he was there to hunt them, and they had likely done everything necessary to derail him.

"Thank you, Strous," he finally replied. The man must've said what he had said to him two minutes ago, or more. But Taelian's mind was clouded, and he failed to even look at the bodyguard, or even Milana. He had only stared forward, his gaze occasionally averting as certain words caught his attention, building the narrative in his mind. That same mind flowed with possibilities. Each action that was currently ongoing, simultaneously, all around him. The crowding of voices and footsteps only signified the multiple layers of complexity around him.

Strous began to escort Taelian and Eleanor to the storehouse. As the mage passed the guard Captain by, though, he noticed something so insignificant that he was certain any townsman would have passed it off as a mere consequence of parentage. The man's eyes were brown, but there was a slightly opaque veil over the colors that made them look almost yellowish. Looking from the center outwards, it was impossible to tell that it was anything other than a variation of shade, or perhaps the reflection of the sun. But Taelian could see the misty, diluted vapor over the colors of his eyes. He wasn't certain if the light was merely fooling him, but if it wasn't... then everything made sense.

He clenched his fists and began to follow Strous. He didn't say or do anything, because Milana was not the one in danger at the moment. It was Taelian, and Eleanor. This game had been designed for them to lose.

"El," he whispered as they passed by. But then he stopped himself -- because if that man was a Dranoch, he could hear fairly well. He needed to wait.

The two of them were led to the 'secret' storehouse. There were no people inside, but there were a collection of crates. Many of them. They were scattered about somewhat disjointedly, with cloth over them. The cloth wasn't dusty, though, which meant they had to have been freshly placed. Frost had not been the last time this place was used: these crates were the same shape and size as the ones Westweald was now loading onto the wagons that would be carried forward by their mutated horses. They were of an unusual size, compared to the typical crates he saw for transferring items. Normally, horses couldn't carry such loads, even the horses of the large merchant companies. These rare and altered horses were created to transport a specific type of cargo, and he supposed he was about to discover what that was.

Taelian stepped forward and approached one of the crates. His eyes narrowed as he looked onto the beige colored cloth, his expression portraying a total scowl. All of these games for this one moment, and ironically all he wanted to see was a gagged and unconscious human, laying along the uncomfortable edges of the wooden shape's interior. He felt bad for wanting that. Instead of wishing, he supposed it was time to find out.

Taelian let the cloth fall onto the floor, before beginning to pull the lid of the crate off of the square structure. As it slid halfway off and collapsed onto the floor, his expression sunk as an overwhelming weight fell upon his mind. Disappointment; it was empty.

"El, it's empty!" he yelled. The woman nodded, and began to unveil the other crates. Taelian followed her, and did the same, pulling off their lids one by one. Before long, every single box in the storehouse had been opened, and none of them had a single thing inside. He... was devastated.

"Wait," Taelian called out again. He noticed something along the edges of one of them; they were discolored. It was so dark inside of the storehouse that he had a difficult time noticing at first. Taelian held his palm open and a brilliant golden flame spawned from its core, the fire shining a light on the details of the crate's interior. And the discoloration revealed itself to be dried blood. "Dried... blood?" he asked himself.

Taelian realized then what had occurred. And so did Eleanor. It was enough to make both of them want to retch.

"They ate them inside of the crates," the woman cried out. It was cruel... and reminiscent of their home. Being carried around like provisions, bound and unconscious. Eaten to the bone. "Look, the blood is much more concentrated at the bottom. They must've opened the lids and started devouring them. It was..."

"A method of hiding it all; ridding themselves of the proof," Taelian interjected. He shook his head . . . a lot, and it sunk, hanging low. He almost felt ready to cry in despair, as they had been defeated and could very well be uprooted. They were still, even outside of Sil-Elaine, surrounded by so many enemies and all of their machinations.

He stopped himself, and sighed, his fingertips tightly gripping the edge of the crate. His nails nearly dug into the wood.

The golden flame in his hand began to morph. It glowed more intensely at first, but then softened. Before his eyes, the veil between the living world and the Dead Realm began to recede. Taelian was using Searing, through which he could see the dead's distorted world. The part of their reality that clung to tragedy and despair. Unsurprisingly, all around him were confused spirits. They were fresh, recently departed. They still kept their original shapes from while they were still alive -- simple mortal men and women. Most of them seemed gaunt and ill, terrified and confused. They were likely all homeless or mentally disturbed. Before him, in the very crate that he loomed over, there was a young woman clutching her hair. She looked up at him, and as she noticed him looking back, she began to wail and scream. It was an unholy sound.

There had to have been thirty of them. But like he and Eleanor had suspected, they were all dead.

"Where did they take your bones?" he asked the woman. Strous and Eleanor could both hear him. His fellow Ebon Knight understood, but the bodyguard must've thought he was mad. The spirit, though, did not answer. Instead she began to cry.

"ANSWER ME!" he commanded. Most Dranoch didn't eat the bones -- they would leave them. But these ones had been moved.

"The man ate them," the spirit cried. "David... I knew him. I... I--"

She lost it. The congruity of her shape began to wither and she started to rake and claw at her face. Ghosts didn't keep their intellect for long; a few hours at the most. They always went insane.

"They even ate the bones, Eleanor," Taelian said.

"I know," she replied. The woman had her own flame before her -- she was also peering into the Dead Realm. They could see ghosts, huddled into their crates, reenacting their deaths. They were being eaten alive again, but by their own minds, torn apart by nothing. They were surrounded by pain and despair. It was... horrifying. Worse than almost anything he'd ever seen. Even the train that had brought him out of Sil-Elaine... it hadn't been like this. At least the people there knew -- they understood the risks of trying to escape. They were prepared to fight the Dranoch, and to die.

Taelian gripped the flame with his fist and it dispersed. The images of the ghosts faded, and instead he channeled Spatial Perception one more time. He felt the form of Milana from beyond the walls, and beside her was still David, who he was certain was a Dranoch now. There was only one possibility now for recourse; they had no proof, it had all been eaten alive, down to the last fragments of marrow. He did not know who the other Dranoch were, even, or where they were. But he knew that they were likely still here -- and he would hunt them.

He focused on David's form through the wall of the storehouse. He focused on every aspect of his shape, and began to raise his fist toward him. Eleanor and Strous would've thought he was dramatically pointing his closed fist to the wall for no reason, certainly, but he did not care. Taelian pointed his knuckles straight towards where his magic had discerned to be the Dranoch's skull, and used the ability Glare. Almost instantaneously, a piercing ray of fire - pin-pointed into the shape of a searing, crackling beam - ripped through the wall of the storehouse and pierced through the left side of David's skull. It extended towards him in less than a second, with the last second turn of his head sparing his brain from being entirely pierced. Immediately, David's jaw began to unhinge as black rake-like claws began to extend from his fingertips. He growled ferociously, the mangled left side of his head attempting to visibly reform as he faced the storehouse and peered through the hole in the wall to seek out Taelian.

But David quickly succumbed to his wounds, and died. The Shrivenflame had cindered the edges of his brain, and had done too much damage to recover from. Taelian then expanded the scope of his perception and attempted to feel out the other Dranoch nearby. He felt the form of another, beginning to run out from the stables. The blighted man ran directly for Milana, likely intending to take her hostage. In a few seconds, another beam of Glare fired from Taelian's fist, the searing ray directly piercing through the Dranoch's skull. Before he died his own jaw had gone unhinged, his long tongue protruding from his dismantled lips. Taelian wasn't certain if there were more.

"Go to Milana!" Eleanor yelled. "I'll go to the stables and kill whoever is left of them! We need to ensure that they don't capture the Lady!"

Taelian nodded, crafting a portal before him and stepping into it. Immediately he re-appeared at Milana's side, frowning as he looked down at the woman. Somehow he felt that what had just happened, even before her eyes, wouldn't be enough. He had just murdered the Captain of the guard on the words of a ghost -- but he had revealed himself to be among their kind, and a Cardinal no less.

"Milana!" he began to yell. "You saw that; the Captain was one of them! They killed and ate all of them... everyone inside of those crates. Dozens of people... they're all dead," he said. Taelian's voice began to break. "We need to kill them. There's no time for trial or evidence; they'll cleave through the town if we don't stop them all now."

[Milana]

A tightness was in Milana's chest as she watched them go, her eyes lingering on Taelian's back for a few seconds before she forced her gaze away and motioned to David. The Storehouse was nearby, just a short walk from the stables proper, and it wasn't like she needed Strous to be with her at all times. David was here, and if things did turn for the worst she knew that she could trust him to defend her. Yet still there was an odd sense of dread resting in her heart.

"Lady Milana." David spoke softly, leaning forward to whisper to her, "While I do not pretend to understand your reasoning, I feel I must say something."

"What is it captain," Milana asked, a note of annoyance rising in her voice that she quickly tamped down as she continued, "We really must not keep the merchants waiting."

Milana felt more than saw David nod, and he leaned closer still, "That is in part why I must speak. The two inside... well, they are not the most agreeable sorts." Milana raised an eyebrow as she looked back over her shoulder, but David quickly continued, "The roads this season have been treacherous. Bandits, beasts and sickness have all befallen their caravans. Their patients, as well as their tempers are inflamed."

Nodding slowly the noble tapped her cheek, staring into the entrance to the warehouse where the merchants supposedly resided, "I believe I understand Captain." She paused, thoughts turning over for a time before she continued, "In any case, I still must speak with them. Unfortunately it is not something that can wait."

From the corner of her eyes she saw David shift, moving to kneel at her side so that they were eye level. Milana turned her gaze to match his as he spoke in a still hushed voice, "I understand you must do what you must." His eyes narrowed and he glanced toward the direction of the storehouse. Strous and those he lead were now gone beyond sight, likely already having reached their destination. Still David stared, his gaze hardening as something flickered there that sent a sudden chill up MIlana's spine, "I've seen his type before."

"His... type?"

Those hard eyes turned on her, and Milana could not help the slight twitch of her shoulders as their eyes locked once more, "That one is a hard man, dangerous as well. He carries the sent of blood on him, and the woman is no different. As I said before, I tell you this as I feel it is my duty." Here he paused, chewing his lip a second before continuing, "I trust Strous, but he is good at what he does. He would not presume to speak as I am, so forgive me but..." Those eyes seemed to bore into her own, and something inside of Milana quivered, "Did that man press you into this?"

"I..." her words caught in her chest, and David seemed to take the silence as acknowledgement.

"You do not have to answer." The guard captain stood, placing a hand on Milana shoulder and squeezing it reassuringly, "As I said I have seen his type before. I suspect he wishes ill intent on Loras, and possibly Grimholdt as well."

As he spoke Milana began to remember the conversation back at the Manor. The memory was still fresh, but now as she looked back she could see a cold arrogance in Taelian's eyes.

I will get what I want. The words echoed once more in the woman's mind, but now they were spoken with a sneer, Whatever it takes I will get what I want.

"He was... forceful." she blinked and pressed a hand to her chest. Milana's heart was racing now, and there was a slight tremble in her fingertips as a nervous energy filled her body.

"Of course." David was close once more, leaning forward with a hand on the arm of her chair, "He likely intended for you to damage your reputation with Westweald Trading Company, breaking an advantageous agreement so that his group could step in and profit in their absence."

Was that right? Something about that sounded... off, but suddenly she was so tired. Milana pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead, closing her eyes as she felt a headache beginning to fill in behind her eyes.

"Are you alright? You seem to be ill Lady Milana." The concerned voice of the Captain broke her out of her suddenly slow thoughts, and Milana shook her head.

"It's nothing, just a small headache."

"Perhaps it would be best to take you home."

She shook her head again, "No, I..."

"Rest assured, I will waylay the Merchants until the morning. I am certain I can find some paperwork that simply must be done before they can depart. If they spend the next few hours double checking their ledgers as a result they will likely stay another night, and I will personally escort them to the Manor."

Milana again tried to protest, but her chair was already moving, turning away from the Warehouse and moving toward the stable. She felt she should protest more, but suddenly the thought of going home filled her with such a powerful sense of relief that she found she couldn't argue, "Perhaps you are right... Will you inform Strous of the change of plans?"

"Of course my lady." She could not see David's smile as he said this, his pace quickening ever so slightly as they rounded the corner to pass by the front of the stables.

What happened next was too fast for Milana to process. There was a suddenly light and heat, and behind her she heard a growl that belonged more to a snarling beast than a man. Her head ached, but she turned her head in time to see David's mangled features before he collapsed. A gasp was stifled behind the woman's hands as she stared down at the body of her now dead Guard Captain. A sound from the stables called her attention there, and she saw just in time as another man emerged, a crazed look in his eye as she ran, no sprinted right at her. Milana found herself frozen, unable to move and the rune on her back completely forgotten as the man bore down on her. He leapt, and Milana had just enough time to see a claw like hand extend toward his face before another flash of light sent the man careening away, his head ruined by the same thing that had killed David.

Adrenaline rushed through MIlana's veins, and where she trembled before her body now began to shake. Her breaths were close to ragged gasps as her heart felt ready to burst from her chest, and when Taelian appeared she nearly screamed as she clutched her chest and whipped her head around to stare at the man who was now yelling at her. She heard the words, but didn't comprehend so she simply stared blankly at him. She looked down at the two men, now dead, and back up at Taelian. She remembered what David had said, and what was suspicion before now became outright fear.

"Get back!" Milana yelled, fear flooding her veins as she tapped into her rune. Cold electricity flooded into her body, sparking and ripping through her in a tidal wave as she threw everything she had in to pushing Taelian away. She knew it, she couldn't trust him, and now he would do to her exactly what he had done to David and the other man.

Whether the force moved Taelian or not it would cause Milana's chair to tilt, and it and the woman inside it to fall to the ground. The small strap that held her in place, and she suddenly found herself sprawled on the ground. She cursed, nearly clawing at the ground to drag herself away. Suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder, large and strong and she flinched and drew back.

"Milana." That deep and familiar voice stilled her struggles for a moment, and Milana opened eyes she hadn't realized she had closed. Strous knelt over her, having passed the distance in one single kinetic enforced leap to land directly beside his master. She practically threw herself into his arms, clawing at his chest to right herself, and the man obliged and lifted her into his arms.

Her voice trembled as she pointed a finger at Taelian, anger masking the fear in her eyes as she said forcefully, "Strous kill this man for the murder of the Guard Captain. He is a beast here to harm Loras and its people."

For a moment Strous did not say anything, looking at Milana a long moment before glancing at Taelian, "Ser Rannoch is not an enemy."

The words were like daggers of ice in Milana's chest as she looked at Strous, a look of incredulity marring her features as her mouth opened and closed. Before she could speak, however, Strous looked at Taelian and spoke just as slowly, adding emphasis to every word, "She's been mesmered."

He locked gazes with Milana again, his expression growing stony, "Calm your emotions. Ser Rannoch and his companion are not the enemy. We found the crates in the storehouse."

Incredulity quickly turned to anger as Milana pushed against Strous' chest, struggling to be released, "I don't care WHAT crates you found, that man," she pointed to David's dead body, "Killed the captain, in cold blood."

"Milana, look at him." Strous said, walking her over to the body and kneeling so that she could see his mangled jaw, which now had elongated teeth. She looked at them, at the claws on the hands, but still shook her head. That feeling in her chest wouldn't go away, and Strous sighed and stood. He began walking toward the storehouse, Milana continued to struggle for a moment before finally giving up, letting the man carry her like a child. She would, however, glare at Taelian over Strous shoulder the entire trip.

[Taelian Edevane]

Get back! she yelled, as the woman lodged a Kinetic blast towards the mage. Taelian focused his aether for a moment and harnessed enough to craft a Spatial Chakram in the ovular shape of a shield, placing it directly before him and weathering the fledgling Kinetic blast. He then deconstructed it shortly after, the shield appearing to dismantle into red aethereal particles before Milana's eyes. Or -- she would have seen the aether, but the Lady had fallen to the ground in recoil to her own applied force. Taelian cringed as he saw the crippled girl lay upon the paved stone.

Strous practically flew from the storehouse to her side, in a charged Kinetic leap like the sort Taelian had seen Renfier perform. The woman appeared relieved now that Strous was at her side, though Taelian eyed him somewhat skeptically. As helpful as he had been, ultimately the Ebon Knight expected him to take the side of his charge. He was obedient, and loyal. Those were the only impressions the Siltori had really acquired of him. Knowing these things, Taelian could not help but feel concerned. Would Strous be next? Would he need to actually kill him in cold blood? The man was not a Dranoch, not an enemy. But if Milana could not see reason...

Kill this man, she ordered. It appeared she couldn't. Taelian wasn't concerned though -- he did not for a moment believe that Strous could beat him, whether or not he was a mage. Eleanor shortly thereafter whistled past Taelian, blade in hand as she ran to the stables to confront whichever Dranoch remained. Taelian allowed her to -- they would escape if not. This confrontation between himself and the Lady was one that could be resolved on his own.

But Strous replied and in a way that surprised him. He proclaimed that Taelian - or 'Ser Rannoch' as he said - was not an enemy. He informed the mage that his Lady had been mesmered, though Taelian would have believed that she had acted this way out of her own accord. She was... prideful, and already held a great level of distrust for him. Still, he took Strous' words as fact, if only because they were more convenient for his own aims. If Milana was influenced by magic then perhaps at the end of all this she could see reason. Strous offered her that chance at reason; to look upon the crates and to view their blood-stained interior. They still faintly smelled of iron, the murders being recent.

The woman, though, continued to avoid the worrisome details and accused Taelian again of murder. The Elf's brows lowered as his face expressed a scowl. He kept a hand on the hilt of Ard Fuil in case Strous turned on him, or if one of the Dranoch managed to escape Eleanor's fury. Amidst the tide of worries and possibilities he continued to listen and observe, and his eyes followed theirs as they peered upon the dead Captain of the guard. He did look monstrous. Taelian was glad he transformed in his last moment, though he would've been able to prove it regardless. Now that he had died he would not be able to suppress any of his Dranoch features, such as the quills upon his back, his smoldering red eyes, his shark-like teeth. It was all laid bare.

Strous began to carry her towards the storehouse, and she fought him at first before reluctantly submitting. Her fury towards the Ebon Knight was evident though, Mesmer likely amplifying what was already there. Taelian frowned. Perhaps in line with how he had acted from the beginning, he did not seem to care much for how the woman felt for him. She had been declawed by her bodyguard, who Taelian did feel a sense of... gratitude towards, he could only phrase it. Strous had prevented a great deal of strife by being reasonable.

They entered the storehouse. Taelian began to move around the edges of the building, lighting the interior of each of the storehouse's lanterns with Sigilflame. The room was lit up a warm, amber shade, and the opacity of the light made the room bright enough for the blood stains to be viewed. He knew it would not be enough to convince her, though -- Milana had made an effort not to trust him, one that was now being influenced by magic.

He had one idea, though, evidence so compelling that no one who saw it would be able to deny it. Strous had bore witness earlier to Taelian and Eleanor using Searing, peering into the Dead Realm of their own accord without sharing their sight with him. That was because it did not work that way -- at least not for most people. Most Ebon Knights could not produce a flame that drew away the veil from anyone but themselves, already attuned to the Dead Realm as a result of the Black Sigil. To broaden this effect required skill, focus, precision and a greater expenditure of aether. It was also, in most cases, not very useful. They tended to travel in packs, after all, and each Ebon Knight could show themselves on their own.

"A true master of Sigilic Pyromancy can share insight into the Dead Realm with others. I don't know if you've heard of the Dead Realm, but... think of it as an extra layer that simultaneously exists with our understood reality. It is a realm independent of the Gods, and while Wraedan does hold some influence over it, he cannot control it. Even we, his Knights, can only look into it with a limited view with a fire known as Searing. This place is like a grim overlay, hidden among our own world. We see rot, darkness, decay. Shapeless miasma, that constructs and deconstructs withered souls." He was focusing his aether, attempting to harness the Sigil in a way that could power such a unique manifestation of the magic. To really pull away at the veil, rather than poking a small hole into it himself, with others around him still blind to that other side.

"Ghosts, specters, wraiths and revenants. We cannot always see the victims of the Dranoch in the Dead Realm, as Cardinals and Huntsmen generally consume the souls of their victims. Their existence ceases beyond that point. But this was a mass-murder out of desperation, for fear of what Eleanor and I might find; what we might show you. They only ate their physical bodies, and the souls of these people were able to harrowingly move into the one place they likely wouldn't want to go."

Taelian breathed. A flame began to form into his hand -- small at first, then larger, growing. Like a small brazier, yet around it light was not projected. Instead, a haunting darkness filled the room. The edges of the storehouse were covered in what looked like an organic black mold, mounds of it everywhere. The light from the Sigilflame torches faded, though they did not vanish entirely. And the darkness did not last, as other forms of light began to fill in their mutual view.

Milana, Strous and Taelian would all be able to see them. The specters inside of their crates, with some of them beginning to wander outside of them. Some were even desperately attempting to leave the storehouse, arbitrarily held back by the physical restraint of the closed door. They would learn before long that it did not matter, and they could simply pass through.

"These are the souls of the dead. This is how I know that blood did not belong to livestock -- these were living people, murdered by the Dranoch. One of them told me that David had eaten their bones to hide any trace. The rest of them probably fed on the flesh, blood, skin, hair, organs. No matter, though. Eleanor is taking care of them now. And better that she is -- you have no idea what sort of damage could have been dealt to Loras had we not intervened. The Captain of your guard... a Dranoch? Within a year this place would have been enslaved by the will of some conspiracy. If you've had any missing townspeople of late, you have your answer. They were being eaten alive."

Taelian looked again at the ghost of the woman who had spoken to him. Her face, in its spectral form, had been reconstructed. He wondered if Milana would be able to recognize her, considering she had made it clear that she was from Loras.

"Strous," he called to the man and signaled to the crate, "can you take Milana to see that woman? She might recognize her."

[Milana]

Pride was often the fall of nobility, either that or arrogance which lead to them making brash actions that hurt not just them but those they were supposed to protect. As she looked over Strous' shoulder at Taelian, she found her mind twisting around everything that had lead her to this moment, this twisted, terrible moment. A man came to her with the presence of danger, making wild accusations and asking her to disrupt the lives of those under her care. The possibility of monsters in her town was something the noble had never even considered, and in all of her life, she had never known bloodshed or murder to be a thing that people did. That sort of thing happened far from Loras, so to be confronted with the possibility of such heinous acts inside of her own town was incomprehensible, if not unbelievable. The town did not even have a jail, prison, or any way to hold criminals captive. Those who committed crimes in Loras were simply put out of the town, and because of the community, even petty crimes were nearly unheard of. Who would steal from their neighbor who bought seeds from your mother? Who vandalized the market where you yourself set up shop? It was little wonder that Milana struggled to comprehend what this man said and suggested. Of course, she reasoned, she dismissed him. Does one simply start believing in the gods of another religion just because an evangelist comes to town?

Yet as she stared back, now past Taelian she could see the body of David there. Liquid pooling from him. Death had come to Loras. She could see David's face. She saw his smile, she saw him helping her prepare the great hall for classes not a season past. Then she saw the claws, the quills, the eyes... Her mind trembled and she turned away. Those feelings in her heart would not go away. Anger, resentment for her treatment, frustration at how easily she was overwhelmed. What right did this Taelian have to come into her home and rip down the walls of her life like they were fragile paper? How dare Strous, her most trusted companion side with him? All of it, none of it made sense.

Milana thought she heard the sound of cracking glass, and suddenly there was warmth on her cheeks. Right now she hated all of them. Her gut twisted when she thought of Ser Rannoch, and her soul wept when she thought of Strous. Without meaning to she curled herself into a tighter ball, pressing closer to Strous' chest as her bodyguard glanced down at her in surprise. He saw her face but said nothing. He knew his role. He was a shield, and he was a blade. He wasn't the kind of person who could offer comfort, no matter how much he might have wished.

When they entered the storehouse Milana did not immediately open her eyes. She could smell it though. A sharp scent of copper, familiar to her now after years of working and helping in the clinic. As a warm glow began to appear around her Milana pressed her palms over her face, pressing hard as she bit her lip to fight back the emotions. She felt as if she were caught inside of a maelstrom, spinning in circles around and around until she was dizzy and confused. Heat expanded from her chest, and she could feel her pulse in her neck and the back of her head.

The sound of Taelian's voice made her shiver, and a sick feeling in her stomach and the taste of bile in the back of her throat drowned out his words. He sounded like he was far away, voice slightly muffled as if she were underwater. She could barely hear him, but despite herself, she listened. She didn't believe it, she couldn't. Her hands pressed harder still before she began rubbing at her eyes and cheeks, but no matter what she did the tears would not stop. When she finally lowered her hands and looked around Taelian breathed out, a flame there small at first before flaring to life. Around them, the empty storehouse was suddenly filled with moving and milling bodies. Empty crates had occupants, some crying, some sitting quietly, still, others stood with a far off look in their eyes.

Milana blinked, and shook her head, hands now moving to clutch at her chest as she looked around, seeing but not really comprehending. Strous, however, knew the vision for what it was. To Taelian he nodded once, carrying Milana toward the crate with the woman inside of it. As they approached Milana quickly looked away, staring to the side at a point in the distance. She didn't know it, but a part of her refused to see, to allow this vision to be anything but the tricks of a murderer.

A voice came softly to her, calling her name. Milana closed her eyes, squeezing them shut and covered her ears.

"Milana." Strous said softly, shaking her slightly. The woman in the crate screamed, and the noble flinched and shook her head, gritting her teeth as she resolutely kept herself from seeing. For the first time, Strous showed an emotion, something again to anger as he shifted Milana so that she sat in the crook of his arm, leaning into his shoulder. She tried to turn her head further to look behind him, but a large hand snapped forward and grabbed her by her jaw, fingers hooking around her chin as he forcefully wrenched her head around and held it facing the woman in the crate.

Milana gasped, instinctively grabbing Strous' hand and trying to free herself, but his grip was strong and his voice low as he growled, "Look."

"No." she managed to choke out, which resulted in a swift shaking.

"Look!" The force in that command was enough for Milana to stop struggling, her body going limp as she slowly, reluctantly blinked her eyes open.

The woman was no longer sitting. She stood, hands outstretched toward Milana. Her eyes were wide, jaw opens wide as she called. She didn't recognize her immediately, but that wasn't strange. Even though it was her town Milana could not personally know each and every one of her citizens. As she looked, however, a few things caught her eye. A birthmark on the side of the neck shaped like a moon, a small nose, and the figure of a woman only recently in her prime. She thought for a moment that, maybe, she did recognize her. From the market? One of the parents of the children that came to the Manor?

The world was silent to Milana's ears as she looked around, now looking at each and every face, studying it one at a time. She squeezed Strous' wrist, and slowly he released her, helping her sit up so that her head rose above his own. In the far corner, she saw a man, big strong arms who she once met in the fields. Near the door was a boy who was brought to the clinic recently because of a mysterious sickness. Her father had sent him home with a few herbs and told to rest and he would recover. She never saw him at the Manor again. How had she forgotten that? The more she looked, the more faces she saw, the more and more she began to fill... a gap in her mind. As she stared at one woman a memory almost seemed to bubble up from deep in her mind, clawing its way with such force that her fingers trembled as she touched her lips. That woman she did remember. She was a local who had gone missing a few weeks prior. There was a note though, that said she had left with a traveling trader to seek her own fortune. Milana now remembered consoling the woman's mother, yet somehow she had not thought of that moment even once since that day.

She looked back at Taelian, and again that feeling of unease filled her soul, but this time she didn't look away. She stared at him, long and hard and examined him in full. She looked at his clothing, how pressed and neat they were despite his battle. She looked at his eyes, cold like a viper... right? She looked at his hands that were relaxed, and could not help imagining them wrapping her throat and strangling her. At this thought Milana visibly shivered, wrapping her hands around herself and looking away.

The woman in the crate was still there, talking but wordlessly to Milana's ears. When she looked at that woman another feeling began to fill her, spreading through and overshadowing that sick feeling with a fire that burned her gut and choked her heart. One last time Milana closed her eyes, raising a hand to wipe at her cheeks before pushing a hand through her long hair. Where once her hair had been well kept and clean, it now was tangled with the bangs all over the place. Milana did not pay it any mind, instead of strengthening her back, a hand on Strous' shoulder to steady herself.

"You said that there are more...?" It was a question that she had to ask, though she already knew the answer. After he gave the affirmation Milana would take a deep breath in, struggling to calm a confusing emotion inside of her so that she could think. Should she believe him? Again she looked around, smelled the scent of blood, and remembered what David had looked like. She REALLY remembered, seeing his claws, the quills, the monstrous form he had. Then she remembered his words, and a nagging doubt wound its way into her mind.

That one is a hard man, dangerous as well. He carries the scent of blood on him. His words rang out, As I said I have seen his type before. I suspect he wishes ill intent on Loras, and possibly Grimholdt as well.

"Can I believe that?" She said these words aloud, not talking to anyone in particular. She stared at the woman who had stopped talking, looking into her eyes for a long second before tapping Strous' shoulder. The man turned them so that she faced Taelian, and again she stared at him.

I hate him. Milana realized with surprise, but instead she said simply, "Ser Rannoch, are you a good man?"

[Taelian Edevane]

Strous forced Milana to bare her eyes -- and to look upon the people around her. Not all of them were from Loras, surely. It was a small town of, as the woman said, three hundred. Perhaps only a few did; perhaps less than a few, maybe it was only confined to that one woman. Westweald had seemingly been building its operations in the area for some time. It was no surprise to him that they'd begun to procure from all over the place, though he would've loved for the dead to... not be dead, so that he might've learned how they had become captured initially. Perhaps they had a specific method that he could look out for -- perhaps he could even warn the Slodi's. If they would even listen.

As Milana observed, Taelian thought. He focused on their findings -- everything that had come together. From it all he realized that Westweald's network was larger than he thought. David was a Cardinal . . . it meant he was a fairly veteran devourer. If one small town had a Cardinal at the head of its guard, he wondered what sort of effort they'd undertaken to impose their will upon the other locales along the trade roads.

When Milana's question came, the Ebon Knight was rather unprepared for it. He bit his lower lip for a moment, and stared at her with about as much... diffused interest as she did him. His lips awkwardly pressed, and the mage turned to face the door of the storehouse, looking away.

"My cause is good," he replied. "Sometimes in order to achieve something great, you start to compromise yourself. I've found myself compromised many times, and sometimes I've gotten away from it all and realized... that perhaps I made the wrong choices." Taelian frowned. He almost allowed Iridith, not very long ago, to sacrifice the life of a young boy to preserve the strategic imperatives of the Covenant. Because she feared the risk of him sharing compromising information.

But then, Taelian chose to do what he believed was right: he stood for the boy's life, he advocated for him, and ultimately he managed to keep him alive.

And here -- in this place too -- he had compromised his reputation and risked it all in order to combat the Dranoch cell. All for the dubious gains he'd acquired against Westweald; they were enough for him, though perhaps no one else would be satisfied. He knew that.

"I didn't make the wrong choice this time, though. I was good, here... because I succeeded. If I failed, I would have been wrong. Perhaps you still think I am wrong. I only opened the door to an issue that already existed, though, forcing these things to be illuminated. Whether they will stay illuminated, or whether you will - out of pride, fear or disdain towards me - choose to bury your skull into the sands, remains to be seen. You've seen me as I am, however; ruthless as I want. Make your own determination."

Eleanor stepped through the door, bloodied, with cinder marks across her clothes. Her hair looked far wilder and more tangled; she had likely been forced to wrestle with one of them. Still, though, she was alive.

"One of them has my offhand-blade shoved through his throat, and he's nailed to the wall with Enkindled spikes. I think we can get him to speak, Taelian. Though I can't say he'll tell us anything we don't already know."

"He'll tell us more," said the man. "I'll come shortly and we can transport him to Melitene. They have a prison there that could easily hold him -- Wylen uses it for his Necromantic constructs. It could hold a Cardinal."

"He's a Botchling, so even better," Eleanor replied. "Lady Milana -- I'm sorry for what we've had to do in this town. But it was for the safety of all of you. I don't know if you understand the danger you were in."