Crimson eyes looked out over the marketplace from the conveniently high roof of some witless noble's manse. A few building rooftops to point position's left, Cloud seemed to be distracted by a strolling guard. A few buildings to point position's right, Cypher herself held an alley's shadow as any disinterested alchemic pusher might. True to cover, she had in fact moved a few elixirs and herbs, much to the relief of the users who had become to finding her a few streets farther away from the suspiciously heavy Purple Dragon watch that had taken up position in recent weeks.
Neither Niku nor Silveredge were anywhere to be seen.
Mi'ishaen, who was holding that center point position with a focus that she wondered if she had to thank Stone or Dark for, sighed within herself. Other than watching the market day after day for new Sunfire movement, there had been no other Greyscale-sanctioned jobs for her. The restless Tiefling had picked a few pockets in the meantime, and a few third-floor break-ins had occurred, but the guards' city-wide hunt for the Tiefling who had assisted in the murder of a Purple Dragon had prevented any other real work from getting done. It had also prevented her from even casually swinging by the Sunfire courtyard, where Silveredge and the incredibly talented dark Elf commonly trained. She'd only gotten away with it once, and the Coalwater operative who was actually assigned to watch the Sunfire had very nearly noticed her hawk-like perch at the corner of a nearby rooftop. The only good that had come of that was that the operative had first noticed the strange female that looked as though she were about to pounce on the dark Elf. There hadn't been enough time to watch the ensuing encounter, but Mi'ishaen would have put her money on the strange female.
This day, the Tiefling waited. Sure enough, the mouse-brown haired woman made her way slowly into the market, her empty woven market basket hanging from her right forearm. She was, at first, accompanied by a male that Mi'ishaen identified at once as Iordyn, but after a brief kiss and a send off, the young Human archer turned around and moved away. It was interesting, however, that as he moved, a young woman that Mi'ishaen immediately recognized as "her" plainclothes guard decided that this was a great time to go shopping.
It's like they know it's going down today.
Mi'ishaen had been on market watch duty long enough to have first noticed when Ironcastle failed to show up at her stall. After two days standing empty, the stall was claimed by a soft-spoken fisherman's wife. The word was that Ironcastle- a notably prosperous woman previously known for having a personality like the softest piece of flint- had abandoned the country, too terrified to go on living in a place where she'd nearly been kidnapped in public. The other woman- Sloop- who'd been nearly taken away from the door of her home still lived in the city, but since she was some kind of petty noble, clearly identifiable Purple Dragons shadowed her every step. According to Silveredge's information, which Mi'ishaen worked hard to overhear, the Sunfire had come to an impasse with whomever it was that was ordering the kidnappings. On pain of betrayal to the courts, or at worst, elaborately organized deaths, they were being compelled to capture and turn over the one remaining item on the wanted list.
That "item" was the soft-voiced, slow-moving Susanna Raibeart, whom by now, Mi'ishaen almost pitied.
Just one week had swollen her belly, her breasts and her cheeks to proportions previously unimaginable for the Tiefling, and it was obvious that walking around in a crowded market was an uncomfortable thing for the long-suffering Human female to do. Yet day after day, walking around in a crowded marketplace is exactly what she did, buying the same perishable items- milk, eggs, cheese, bread- as though she couldn't have just sent some little street rat to get them. Mi'ishaen couldn't imagine standing still on those puffy feet and ankles to listen to some pitiful vendor's hopeful vomiting of words, yet Susanna thought it not robbery to do so. The woman's forward motion was a pitiful waddle, turning around seemed annoying at best, but dizzying and disorienting at worst, and recovering any dropped item was a tedious ordeal. Although Susanna seemed to bear these and other limitations with an unquenchable fountain of patience, Mi'ishaen purposed in her heart to never allow herself to become such a bloated, ungainly creature.
The Tiefling had to assume that the Sunfire operatives were just as observant as she was- that they knew that the woman was now more easily noticed by others in the market, that there were covert guards tailing her, and that one assassin's guild and one other mercenary company was tailing them. According to Dark's example, she even figured that they might know about the Coalwater detail as well. That made this particular assignment unnerving, especially without Silveredge present, but it could hardly change how it would be run.
Mordren looked over the letter that Silveredge handed him, then compared it to the one he held in his right hand.
"It's quality work," he noted at last, looking as though the compliment had pained him to give, "but it took you quite a while longer than I thought it would."
"I am most sorry to delay my lord," Silveredge replied from her kneeling position, "but the handmaiden must admit that it was difficult work."
"Difficult?" Mordren spat, unaccustomed to hearing the Shadar-kai so much as breathe a complaint about anything. "Difficult how?"
Silveredge raised her gaze slightly, so that she could see the hem of Mordren's heavy robe. "My lord did realize that what he gave his handmaiden to copy was itself a copy, of course. I worked hard to appear not as careful as its first forger."
Mordren stared holes into the top of Silveredge's head, pored over both letters, then stared at Silveredge again.
Look at me.
A pair of limpid platinum eyes fixed their sights upon the master mage's radiant green orbs at once. But Mordren couldn't divine an intention, and therefore, couldn't tell what had to be done to warp it to his own will. The Sunfire mage turned around and moved away from the kneeling Shadar-kai without a trace of emotion.
When he had disappeared into the hound's room, closing the door behind him, Silveredge sat down on the tops of her ankles.
Niku?
Ma?
May I borrow your hearing?
Love.
Silveredge smiled to herself. Niku's interpretation of the word "love" meant that his unquestioned compliance would meet her every request. It was born of a loyalty the Shadar-kai had never expected another living creature to understand, let alone afford her. It also invariably made her think of Mi'ishaen, whose presence she sorely missed.
"No, no thank you," Mama Raibeart said again with a smile and a shake of her head. The stray curls that had fallen out of her bun were plastered firmly with sweat to the back of her neck.
"But it is so good!" the Shifter vendor insisted. Mi'ishaen realized that she couldn't tell if the creature were smiling back or not, although the tone of voice seemed to imply either continued amiability or pity. "You are sure you do not even wish to smell it on the female's fur?"
"It may not be the best time for that," Mama Raibeart said with a rare trace of sadness. "I haven't even done well with my own perfumes lately."
Mi'ishaen felt a still-familiar pricking of the skin, and forced herself to stop quickly changing her focus from one vendor to the other, opting instead to truly take in the information that their physical presentations were giving her. Meanwhile, a stirring moved the flow of the market from an unusual angle.
I don't like that, the Tiefling thought. She abandoned the profiling of each of the people that were already within ten feet of the pregnant Human and focused on finding the source of the abnormal shift in market movement.
"This is understandable," the Shifter nodded, answering some other comment that Mi'ishaen hadn't taken care to actually listen to. "The cub is coming soon, yes?"
After fifteen seconds that felt more like forever, Mi'ishaen caught the eyes of Cloud. The Tiefling gave the Gnome a signal requesting that she move up two buildings to counter the market's unexpected motion. Cloud flat out refused.
I ought to whoop her ass again, see how she likes that.
"The midwife doesn't agree with the healer," the brown haired Human woman smiled, her cheeks flushing even more than had become normal. "And naturally, the healer wants to insist that the midwife doesn't know what she's talking about. But she's been my good friend for many years, and was the one who helped me bring forth every single one of my children. She knows my body nearly as well as I do!"
Mi'ishaen's plain clothes guard was dragged- rather obviously unwillingly, in the Tiefling's not-so-humble opinion- into a dull conversation with some semi-interested young Human male that forced her to turn half-way away from Susanna. The other plain clothes guard stood on the far other side of the market, rendering himself completely useless by actually attempting to buy a new flagon from a vendor who was obviously a friend.
How are these idiots still in crown-sanctioned jobs? Mi'ishaen asked herself, utterly annoyed at having to do the guards' work for them. These fools will pay me one day.
"The blessings of your gods strengthen you," the alchemic vendor smiled, putting her perfume to the side and gently taking the Human woman's hand. "This female is not able to have cubs herself, but is always pleased to see the joy of others."
"Oh, maybe one day you will!" Mama Raibeart comforted immediately, laying her other hand on top of the furry paw-like hands that had clasped her basket-bearing hand. "Mother Chauntea grant you a powerful alpha male and a safe den, I pray."
"This is very kind," the Shifter replied, not without a distinct note of sadness.
By this time, Mi'ishaen finally attracted the gaze of Cypher, who also denied her request to move two alleyways farther up. She asked if she would at least change level, and watched Cypher signal that she wanted to keep eyes on the alchemist. Utterly frustrated, Mi'ishaen abruptly moved out of point position, surprising the Human female on the ground so badly that she almost shouted at her to hold her place. Mi'ishaen, however, was all eyes on the black-clad figure that the market people had respectfully allowed to slice a path that had brought her within five feet of Mama Raibeart.
"Well, that archer made waves, Mordy," Bann sighed, opening his letter. "Big ones. There's a summons for her now."
"Rather well timed," Mordren scoffed. "Clearly, the Dragons are in our handler's pocket, too."
"Told you," Kronmyr warned sharply, putting the two front feet of the chair down so that he could reach Niku's head.
"What handler?" Bann rumbled, putting the letter down on the table in front of him so that he could properly focus on the defiant dark Elf.
" 'What handler,' he says?" the mage smiled darkly, revealing his copy of the letter that Bann held. "This secret correspondence, the book-end contracts, the splitting of our organization into a Cormyrean front and a Semmite tunnel- all the fault of powerful outside pressure. I don't blame you Bann- but I can't say I care for being treated like a child."
"Got you," the dark Elf grinned, slapping Niku on the side of the belly with glee. "Your peeping witch's finally got you dead to rights- and with an actual, natural paper trail!"
"It was only a matter of time," Mordren shrugged. "You're hardly masters of subterfuge."
"I suppose you rifled through my paperwork as well?" Bann sighed, crossing his arms and leaning back from the table as he looked over at the mage.
"Unnecessary," Mordren offered, putting the copy back into the sleeve of his robe. "I noticed that something has been off with you some time ago. I set Rasha off to find out why, and not only is she good at getting at into your things, it just so happens that she is also a fabulously effective forger. I might thank you for handing me the key to your own unraveling, ser."
Bann merely laughed bitterly in response. " 'Might,' he says."
"We're not in court, Bann," Kronmyr reminded the Human fighter in a calmer tone. "Still here."
"And I intend to stay," Mordren said after moving to the table and taking the seat between the dark Elf and the Human, "so, what's the chain-holder's connection to this Dragon summons?"
"He's too busy using his various 'underworld connections' to have anything to do with any Dragons at all, let alone the Purple Dragon Oversword himself," Bann replied in a morose tone. "Can't imagine them being too friendly."
"Coin makes plenty of people friendly all the time," Kronmyr chuckled, tipping his chair back again. Niku got up momentarily, but sat back down. "Rasha Dragon-snared a Fire Knife-"
"And I'd very much like to know where she learned to do that," Bann interjected, with a meaningful look shot at the dark Elf.
"-and ran a Zhentie out of the courtyard, both of which that bastard sent. You don't think he wants her out of here any way he can get her out?" the Drow finished with a raised eyebrow. "We've been ignored by Dragons of all colors for years, Bann. Why else would they suddenly start growling at someone they know?"
"They don't know me anymore," the Human merc replied, getting up from the table, but stopping short before walking to the window. "This isn't about me anyway; it's about the Tiefling. According to that summons, she's obstructing justice, which means first, that the Dragons want that Tiefling badly, and second, that Rasha likely knows where she has been all this time."
"It's a lovely pie, thank you," Mama Raibeart smiled brightly. "You really didn't have to do this."
"It's my pleasure!" the dark-haired woman replied with a sweet smile of her own. "I just wanted to show that I've-"
By this time, Mi'ishaen had positioned herself one building farther up from where Cypher had been- the Human female had scurried down an alleyway in response- and frowned when she looked down from that vantage point. How could Cypher focus on that prattling Shifter and just ignore that?
A silver knife sung straight through the confection that Susanna had just received, profoundly terrifying her.
"Murder, murder!" she screamed, unable to think of anything else to say. Worse was the fact that Dame Hophni, who had just handed the pie to her, could not say anything at all. The dark-eyed woman, still clad in mourning black, crumbled to her knees, then collapsed on her left side in front of Susanna, who had every opportunity to see the river of blood that ran from her right temple. A small stone, kissed with some of that same blood, thudded to the ground on the victim's right.
At the sound of Susanna's second, much higher screech of panic, the market melted into chaos. The vendor who had just spoken to Susanna bared her claws and leaped to her side at once, snarling at everyone.
"Calm yourselves, calm yourselves!" an armored Purple Dragon called, entering the fray immediately.
Another tried herding the frantic people away from the concussed body and the dizzied pregnant woman. "Get under the eaves of-"
"Mind the rooftops!" another called. "We've got movement up there!"
"Archers, at ready!"
Mi'ishaen watched Cloud back roll away from her post and flip off the side as though the building beneath her had been on fire. She herself didn't have the luxury of dropping position just yet. She watched her points- hit that corner, catch that angle- and stole glances at the chaos below her every chance she could, making sure that her third target hadn't moved out of his own position.
Cypher, pushed way back into a dark crawlspace between two buildings, watched in absolute horror as the dark figure ran, leaped and swung her way all the way around the market into Cloud's old position in less than four minutes. What the hell is she looking at? What the hell-
Iordyn's eyes strained until his head hurt. Valeria panted excitedly at his side, but made no move, because she could not detect a mark either.
Suze's right, he thought. Has to be. Angles don't lie.
But no dark Elf. No sign of anyone, save a small, dark figure that had flown off the side of a building some minutes before. The only properly posted archer had dismissed it as a large bird- possibly wounded somehow, considering that it did not rise above the level of the buildings around it.
And then suddenly, there was a third strike, immediately below him. At first, he saw neither the source nor the weapon, but a wave of screaming went up into the heavens, and he struggled to focus. Valeria was completely distracted, unfortunately, and missed what his Human eyes could not quite confirm- a second dark figure, much larger than the last, seeming to fly from one rooftop to another. Suspicious, the archer prepared an arrow.
Greyscale didn't see Cypher until three entire hours after sunset that day. He watched from his normal leaning place next to his office as she shuffled in like a spanked child.
"Cloud came back with nothing but Mishka's prop," the Dragonborn opened, jabbing an indicative thumb up the stairs behind him. "She made the idiot mistake of licking some of the pie off it, but when she practically collapsed into sleep, at least I knew for certain the thing was drugged. Mishka hasn't come back at all."
"She probably won't," Cypher spat ungraciously. "Some really good Dragon archer got a mark on her, put an arrow somewhere in her from half the market away. By the time I even got over there, the guards were crawling like a swarm of ants- I had to pretend I'd been following up on some lost contract from Ironcastle."
"Good thinking," Greyscale nodded.
"All it scored me was some shitty intel," Cypher shrugged. "Half the arrow, and a definite blood patch. She hit the ground. Hard. Guards wouldn't say anything, but I know the woman fell two floors and hit solid stone- probably on her back."
"She'll be back. Give it maybe a day, max."
"Grey, that blood patch was long as half my forearm. He got her in the shoulder, or the neck, or something up there- that shot was lethal."
The Dragonborn nodded slowly. "Spatter trail?"
The Human spell rogue shook her head.
And Greyscale sighed. "If you didn't see a trail, she's either not bleeding out or bleeding somewhere where it wouldn't hit the ground right-"
"She fell two floors, Grey. This was a huge splotch of blood- I don't know if she- if she can- look, I'm serious. And it was my fault."
Greyscale shook his head. "Don't."
"I didn't move when point position said move," Cypher sighed, flopping ungraciously to the floor in front of her partner. "I mean, she's a rookie, but- but she was point. She saw something, or- I guess three different somethings, and- how am I going to face Rasha?"
"C'mon, Cy," Greyscale replied, getting to one knee. "Rasha knows what that woman is capable of- probably better than we do, and maybe even better than that woman herself does. So, hold the intel. The Dragons have their sights on Rasha, so she doesn't need the distraction."
There was a long moment of silence between the two during which Greyscale sadly admitted to himself that he wasn't going to be able to shake the fault that Cypher had squarely planted on herself hours ago.
"Was I a distraction to you, Grey?"
The Dragonborn sighed deeply, knowing this question had been in the making since the Tiefling and the Shadar-kai had walked in his door. "Rasha is different; she doesn't lash out when she's hurt. It all stays in her head, and she doesn't need the extra noise up there."
"I said I don't know," Iordyn despaired, pulling his hands down his face. "I never really saw it. I don't know if it was a Human or a bird- I just- I felt- compelled to shoot."
"What was it, the word of Lathander in your ear?" Garimond groaned, taking his hand off his face.
"Yes, actually," Iordyn replied, nonplussed by the oversword's tone. "It was."
"I didn't see anything this time," Susanna breathed, smoothing her hands over her belly as she kept her eyes on her glowering brother-in-law. "That knife was perilously close, I grant you, but it struck only the pie."
"Which has been confirmed as drugged," Garimond sighed, "with terinav root, interestingly enough."
"Oh," Susanna lamented, knowing what that meant. Garimond, who didn't think Iordyn had explained quite that much back story to his sister in law, eyed the archer with crossed arms.
"Did Dame Hophni know?" Iordyn asked, ignoring Garimond's look entirely.
"She says she didn't, but all three diviners are saying her spirit disagrees with her when she says so," Garimond stated flatly. "I asked them if her head wound might have caused damage to her mind, and they told me that if that were the case, her spirit would be in calm agreement with her story, believing that the accidental lie were in fact the truth. So I now have to arrest a Cormite widow for collusion with possible Semmite kidnappers."
"Perhaps they paid her," Susanna suggested, easing herself up a bit straighter in her chair. "Rather, perhaps they told her they would help her support her family and bring true justice upon our house at the same time- that would move me, were I in her position, to do extremely unusual things."
"Describe the knife again, please," Garimond breathed, looking over to Susanna.
"Radiant silver, light, thin, covered in ancient writing that I know nothing about," Susanna repeated dutifully, unknowingly betraying the fact that the oversword had asked this particular question one too many times for her liking. "Someone must have picked it up when I dropped the pie, but I didn't see them do it."
The oversword put both hands back over his face. "According to Voyonov, the Rooftop Reaver is relearning how to walk up and down stairs without the help of his healing ties- hardly one to be darting off the sides of buildings," he reasoned wearily. "Even so, that's only one creature. Whoever this was struck both the pie and Dame Hophni at the same time."
"I don't know about that," Iordyn interjected. "If it were only one person, whoever-it-was began on Susanna's right, as though he or she were no more than two rooftops away from me, then, about five minutes later, struck right below me. Angles don't lie. Yet, I saw two dark figures- one definitely no bigger than a raven- and neither of them appeared anywhere else than right in front of me."
Garimond leaned back in his chair in disgust. "I can't get a single stone to stand upon here. What is this fresh blight that this unfinished purse has brought upon my city?"
"With respect, Oversword," Susanna corrected gently, "you yourself admitted that it may have been here before he got here. And since Dame Hophni, the alchemic woman, the Sunfire mercenary and I are all alive to speak to you, it may be that Ser Voyonov and his criminal band are not, in fact, the blight. It may be that they are fighting it."
" 'Not so dangerous,' " Garimond quoted quietly. "Thank you, Miss Cheluais. I am beginning to form druthers as to why Voyonov's trek from Urmlaspyr to this place was so besotted with Semmites."
"The woman is good, Cy, the woman is good," Greyscale nodded, just a few minutes before midnight, as he put the true original letter down on his desk. "We finally got him."
"Rancelair Illance," Cypher mused. "The guy's slimy, but I didn't want to believe this."
"Rancid Rancie," Greyscale reminded her, rustling around in the desk only he would call organized until he could find a spare bit of parchment.
"He blackmailed professional mercenaries into bedding half their operation down with Semmites," Cypher shot back. Greyscale stopped rustling and gave her a look, and she moderated her tone in response. "There's got to be a worse word than 'Rancid' for this."
" 'Ruthless' would be my contribution," the Dragonborn shrugged, producing a quill and an ink pot from some other drawers. "He gets money into his house again, makes political inroads with Sembia, the Semmites take out some of the loudest voices against a Cormite-Semmite alliance, and Shade stays off Cormyr's radar while snatching some excellent slaves and testing specimens. Everybody's happy-"
"Except for the pony that's doing all the legwork," Cypher scoffed. "The pressure to break ties with Rancid Rancie at any cost is getting mighty powerful, Rasha says. It says something about these guys- all crooks!- that Fire Knives, Zhentarim, exile, and even very possible death sentences are still not quite enough to get them to stay quietly in this jerk's pocket."
"I'm certainly relieved to hear it," Greyscale breathed, laying the quill down and raising dusty pink eyes to his Human counterpart. "I remember when Bann still wore the Dragon seal over his heart. Was hoping he hadn't fallen this far on his own. I like that he's smart enough to try to do to us what we're doing to him, too. If I were Dark, I really would be trying to make an ally out of him."
"Hah, that legless 'Coalwater Project' of his, poor thing," Cypher laughed, this time without any tinge of bitterness. She hopped onto Greyscale's desk, deftly snatching up the ink pot before it tipped over. "I've caught every one of Kronmyr's rats, and for all his talk about working on it, Mordren was just never on board at all."
"Kronmyr doesn't care if the Sunfire are fully legit or not," Greyscale explained simply as he returned his attention to his correspondence. "Although I wouldn't have guessed he actually considers Bann an honest-to-goodness ally without Rasha saying so. That explains why he put that much effort into turning normal mercs into stealth operatives. Now, when Mishka sprung Shiv, that was their real problem. They lost their forced informant, and instead of making a mole out of Rasha like Bann wanted, Mordren turned her on them."
"Mordren is their real problem. He couldn't give a fuck about their agenda, whether it changes or not, because he's always had one of his own. For as much flack as I give her, Dark is brilliant," Cypher mused. " 'Put Shiv in there,' she says, doesn't say why. A week later, she sends this doozy of a sleeper, and you run this nutso counter-operation, attacking her so that the Sunfire get a glimpse of what she can do. Finally brings Mordren right in line for the fall."
"They don't call 'em 'chessmasters' for nothing, Cy," Greyscale joked, eyes still pinned to his work. "I'm just another rook- but I'm really liking the way she does things, honestly. Very different from when I was running the streets. I feel- I dunno- professional, heh."
"Screw rook, you're a knight," Cypher smiled, reaching over and slipping her fingers down one of the clay-colored fleshy tendrils in Greyscale's hair. "And you have always been a professional. Always... on top of things. Very, very detail oriented, and dedicated to getting the job done, no matter how long it takes."
The Dragonborn leered up at her.
The courtyard was still so dark that all the Purple Dragons in attendance bore torches. In their flickering light, Mordren swept all of Silveredge's hair over her right shoulder, and the chill of the night air thrilled the back of her neck at once. He backed up two steps, then held up his well-manicured hands.
"No new piercings, no rings, no spells, nothing," he admitted to the commanding officer.
"Not lying," chirped the young battlemage that had followed the four guards immediately.
"You confirm that you are, in fact, Silveredge bat Ceubel?" the commanding guard asked in an authoritative tone.
There was a terrible pause.
"Tell them your name," Mordren urged, sounding like an annoyed elder brother.
"I am the Silveredge that you seek," the Shadar-kai replied simply, not moving her gaze from the ground. "The handmaiden shall serve any of your commands."
"Not lying... I think," the battlemage puzzled. "Something is... I don't know... in my way."
"Get her up and let's go," the commanding guard ordered, not certain how to feel about the information that he'd just heard.
"May the handmaiden make a request of my lord?" Silveredge asked, raising her eyes to Mordren.
"Ask," the mage replied, one brow raised perilously.
"May I touch the hound who came with me?"
"No," Mordren replied immediately, not certain himself why he had been so quick to deny her.
"I see no reason why she shouldn't, do you, Bann?" the guard shrugged, raising an eyebrow at the mage.
"Bring the creature out," Bann ordered, looking over at the still-tired Howler.
It was easier said than done. Niku was obstinate all the way into the courtyard, forcing Howler to put him on a short strap and drag him. Upon getting within five feet of Silveredge, the hound inexplicably surged forward past the dogmaster and slashed at her forearms, which she threw in front of her face to block herself.
Gaol, Niku.
The hound shoved his head into Silveredge, knocking her onto her back, screaming manic, high pitched barks into the still-chilly morning air.
"What's going on, Bann?" the commanding guard muttered to the astonished mercenary. "I heard about that one that was put down, but... two? In the same season?"
"There hasn't been anything wrong with this one in weeks," Bann shrugged. "We must have separated them long enough for his connection to her to... dissolve."
"Down- you get down now!" the dogmaster demanded furiously, dragging the dog back savagely. Mordren crossed his arms over his chest, placing the knuckles of his right hand under his chin as though he were observing a test study. Kronmyr turned all the way around and walked a few paces away.
Silveredge rolled over on her side and looked at the glistening tracks of cobalt blood that rose to the surface of her skin. Her gal-ralan gleamed proudly, as though it were pleased with what had just occurred. Niku, meanwhile, bayed the most heart-broken howl into the early morning air.
"Something is... off," the battlemage said, shaking his head. "I... have no idea what it is, but- something is- not right here."
"Probably the thing that's not right is what's currently in our possession," the commanding guard replied flatly. "Move out."
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