81st of Ash, Year 120
The chill was slowly coming to Tyrclaid, though it was nothing in the face of the overwhelming frost he had faced even in the warmest parts of Lorien. He stood out before the log home, half the trees around him withered and dormant, and breathed. "Lethiril," he whispered. The Orkhai stepped forward, his feet stomping on a plethora of fallen leaves. "It has been some time," added the mage. His companion nodded.
"It has indeed," he said.
"What have you found?" Taelian asked. It was business -- already. Lethiril knew that, though; he wasn't the type to come here for leisure, anymore. The man he once knew was gone. Taelian was a man of opportunity, and of deeds, alone. Scarcely did he try to communicate, or grow their bond. This trend towards... callousness, he would call it, had only become more severe as time went on.
"Helena operates within her warehouse as we speak," he said. "But -- if what you're saying is true, if she's a Huntsman..."
The Sil'norai frowned, shooting a glance at his old, childhood friend. "It'll be alright," he replied. "I'm just a door. Aldrin will come through my portal and will cull her quickly. He's tasked me with cleaning up her allies -- Cardinals, and the like, so that she doesn't receive help during the fight. I don't need to do all that much, so it shouldn't be of too much concern," he said. Of course, simple words would fail to alleviate those concerns as they came. Lethiril's eyes wandered, scanning the forest before him. Simple things stood out to him: the droplets on leaves, the way the trees stood, the way their branches extended. He was lost in space, but moreso in worry. An undeniable part of him couldn't help but wonder if this was the last day he would ever see his old friend.
Soldiers of the Remedy died, all the time. He had even seen Taelian's friends die since they'd come here, one of them before his eyes. Aldrin was a man so willing to sacrifice others for his ultimate goal. He would even sacrifice Taelian; Lethiril knew that he would. He was an asset, but -- not compared to a dead Huntsman. The morale that would come from Helena's demise... even, the simple chance of maintaining the rebellion. No man could ever measure up to all that; if Taelian was a necessary sacrifice, then so it would be.
"I wonder why he doesn't just bring Vendrael," Lethiril said, with a deep, mournful frown.
"Because someone needs to protect the Gallows in his stead, and maintain its protective shield. He must be there to commune with -- to pray to -- Malek, to keep the Gallows safe." Taelian didn't really understand how it worked -- he was only a Cleric. They weren't privy to those sorts of things.
