Online Recap 12.10.2018

PART ONE.

The feast at Highwind Keep continues. Lady Salyma Brysk is preparing to do a Reading of Count Andraw Iker, with her recently acquired Síst Sáhádá deck. It’s getting late, but the mood in the dining hall is still high after Florentyn Cavell’s performance.

The deck is at least three times as big as the ones Tylendel have seen before - thrice as many cards, more rectangular and made out of thinner sheets of wood. Count Andraw looks skeptical, maybe even a little afraid, his gaze shifting about. The others around the table seem more curious, bending over to get a good look. Lady Salyma shuffles the deck. At the knights’ table, Florentyn Cavell is still garnering attention as he shares some tales. Syr Linas Balére is standing behind Dorotei Sollani, one gloved hand on the back of her chair, the other hand ungloved. His gaze constantly shifts between Lady Salyma and Dorotei, but she does not give him her attention, as she seems engaged in Lady Salyma’s explanations and shuffling.

“My lady,” Duke Esmond says after having been quiet for a while, “While I’ve always maintained that when it comes to faith, every man and woman should believe as they please…is it not…dangerous, to play these cards here?”

“Nonsense, my dear duke,” Lady Salyma replies, “The Highlord may have had his reasons for his persecution of the followers of Isah, but these cards, I promise you, do not belong to one faith. They belong to all faiths.”

The duke nods, seemingly more curious than afraid of this, and so he lets her continue. Lady Salyma turns to Count Andraw Iker.

“I’ve had Readings both of a follower of the Lost God Found and of the Lost God - as the lady says, this is not something just for the followers of Isah,” Tylendel adds. The duke looks surprised.

“Very well,” he says. “I admit I know too little about these things. As you may have gathered, my passion is with ships.”

“Now my lord of Kesh,” Lady Salyma says to Count Andraw, “Let’s begin. The first card in the spread tells us what is currently influencing you.”

“Don’t need cards to know that,” Baron Flemmyn Saltcliffe interjects. “He’s under the influence of sweet, sweet wine.” A few of the guests at his side chuckle.

Lady Salyma snorts. “The Síst Sáhádá reading is an ancient and respected tradition, my lord of Saltcliffe. The saints are watching us now, so choose your words wisely. I’m sure I do not need to remind you Saint Brava herself was a follower of Isah’s teachings, canonized by the Archpriest of Eveninghall himself.”

The mood around the table becomes a little more tense.

“Aye, I’ve heard that many priests secretly do their own readings,” Baron Gleb Rossyk says.
“Priests do a lot of things secretly,” Baron Flemmyn Saltcliffe mutters.

Count Ruben Brysk looks a bit flustered, perhaps irritated. “Mother, put it away —”

“Tell your sisters it’s time to sleep,” Lady Salyma tells her son, waving him off.

She places the first card sideways on the table surface. “Ah, this card is The Messenger.”

“Is that good?” Count Andraw wonders.

“The Messenger influences your spirit at this moment. And, as you understand, the Messenger brings…messages. So it would be wise to heed this Reading, my lord. It may be news that you’ve had that weighs on your mind; it could be news still to come that will affect you. The rest of the spread will help us pinpoint this, but for now, we know where we are heading, yes?”

Count Andraw looks confused. “Go on, my lady. I admit to a sense of … fascination.”

Tylendel leans back in his chair with his wine goblet, wiggling it toward a page. A servant arrives, whispering, “White or red, my lord?”

Count Ruben Brysk tries to interrupt again, looking at Count Andraw. “My lord, you’re making me question your reputation.”

His mother snaps, “My boy, didn’t I tell you to go rein in your sisters? Stop insulting the noble lord. The Lost God Found—”

“It’s all right, Lady Salyma,” Count Andraw says. “Go on. Let’s see the second card.”

She draws the second card, placing it cross-ways atop The Messenger. “The second card in a Reading reveals the nature of any obstacles immediately before you.”

Baron Flemmyn Saltcliffe chuckles. “Oh no. It’s a shepherd. Beware, the sheep are coming.”

Lady Salyma scowls. “The Shepherd, my lord, represents belonging; to follow a leader or be part of a group - or being the leader. As an obstacle, it means that a leader will stand in your way; or a group you are part of.”

Count Andraw frowns. “A group I’m part of? Like, my noble peers here? My family?”

“We shall see, my lord. We still have eight cards to complete the spread. As you’ll see, the Síst Sáhádá makes everything clearer, card by card, guiding us to be careful about our future.”

She looks like she’s enjoying the attention as she draws the third card. Before showing it, she asks the count where he wants to place it - the directions of the wind, the four corners of the world.

“North,” Count Andraw says.

Lady Salyma puts the card on the table. “The third card reveals your recent past.. The Stag, as such, is quite fitting for you, my lord. It symbolizes renewal; shedding old ideas, renewing the spirit. Why, that’s exactly what you’re doing here, allowing yourself to be Read by me. Don’t look so ashamed, my lord of Kesh. As you have noticed, everything has changed. And so will you. Think about it. You, whose sigil displays the Lost God Found himself, now being Read.”

Count Andraw crosses himself. “Perhaps I should join my wife in prayer…”

“My liege,” Baron Flemmyn says, “with all due respect - your lovely lady is sawing wood like a Dalnísian lumberjack - no offense intended, m’lady and m’ord of Brysk.”

Baron Gleb looks at his peer across the table. “Don’t tell me you’re getting intrigued.”

Lady Salyma draws the fourth card and asks for another direction.

“West,” the count replies.

She grimaces. “Don’t fret, my lord of Kesh. The fourth card drawn reveals a recent influence which is coming to an end. The trickster symbolizes dishonesty, theft, lies. Have you lost any personal belongings, by chance? Or has someone lied to you?”

Count Andraw Iker’s face reddens. “My lady, are you serious? I have lost everything, like we all have over the years. We have lost the province. We have lost the grace of the Holy Throne.”

“Yet, my lord,” she counters, “ and I hope you can forgive me for saying this - how many can say they still have their beloved spouse? And all their children, close at hand? You have been fortunate, blessed even, if I may say so. Compared to many other families, I mean.”
Baron Rostek Polry clears his throat. “My lord, on the way up the Riverroad, I heard that one of your supply wagons had been—”

Count Andraw replies without taking his eyes off Lady Salyma Brysk. I think I know the culprit of that particular crime, Baron Rostek.” The count of Kesh now gives Yosha Artamon a lingering look across the dining hall.

Baron Rostek turns to Duke Esmond. “I do not understand, my liege, why you keep those Mirovni scum around. Three kegs of brandy, gone just like that.”

The duke replies, “I can hardly send them out into the night, can I? I don’t want to have their deaths on my conscience.”

Lady Salyma clears her throat. “It seems clear to me we’re on the right track, then. There has been some theft. Will you dare draw the fifth card, my lord of Kesh?”

Count Andraw asks, “And what will the fifth card tell me?”

Lady Salyma replies, “The fifth card in the spread shows the goals and desires you should aim for, my lord of Kesh.”

Baron Flemmyn mutters, “Why, that sounds almost useful.”

“Very well. East,” Count Andraw says.

Lady Salyma Brysk draws the fifth card, raising one eyebrow. “Interesting! This, my lord, is the Sinner in Chains. It can have several meanings, depending on its position. In this case…there is someone you should keep away from your sight, my lord. Someone deserving of being chained, imprisoned, hidden from the world.” She leans over the table conspiratorially.

Count Andraw, perplexed for a moment, sputters, “What? Why would I…?”

Syr Castor Harlow, the Osprey, interjects, “Maybe that barbarian from Mirovnel? I’m sure Syr Darolf would appreciate the gesture.”

Lady Salyma adds, “Remember, everything comes from the Messenger. Yes, it could be a message, my lord of Kesh. A sinner must be chained if you are to prosper. The Trickster’s influence is ending, however…but, the Trickster is the Trickster, and who knows? I’m…sensing, however, that this sinner in need of chains would be someone you would not expect. For that is ever the Messenger’s duty, is it not, to inform, to make known that which is unknown. But we have only half a spread, and the remaining cards may help us paint a clearer picture.”

The lady of House Brysk draws the sixth card and places it on the table, completing the circle of cards around the two first cards. “It does seem that there is foulness afoot, my lord, and I apologize for that. But this is why the Síst Sáhádá is a boon; it grants us divine knowledge to forestall events. This is the Cloaked Poisoner, my lord. He symbolizes secrecy and malicious intent, and indeed, wickedness in disguise.”

Baron Flemmyn leans back in his chair. “Give me the Shepherd any day.”

“The way you keep bleating, baron, it would be most appropriate,” the lady says dryly.

Baron Gleb Rossyk chuckles loudly, spilling a little wine on his chest. Baron Flemmyn scowls at him and reminds him, “A bird. With tits.”

Count Ruben Brysk gets up from his chair, swaying with inebriation. "I told you to keep your ludicrous cards for yourself,” he snaps at his mother. “You bring shame upon House Brysk.”

"It’s just a reading, my dear. Don’t sound so like your father. Count Andraw is a grown man, you know. He can handle this. Why, as devout as he is, what harm could a few cards do to him?”

Count Ruben sighs. “You’re scaring us.”

“You mean I’m scaring you,” his mother retorts.

Her son stalks off, almost falling on his face as he attempts the descent from the wooden dais. He calls his sister’s names.

“Come on, Lady Salyma, the seventh card,” Dorotei Sollani says enthusiastically, her eyes glowing. The man at her side, Syr Linas, has taken a step back and looks confused.

“So, someone close to me wants to hurt me and I have to make sure to imprison that person before it happens, but I don’t know who it is,” Count Andraw summarizes.

The lady draws the seventh card. "Your interpretation is valid, m’lord. But let’s see what the seventh card reveals. The Seventh reveals your negative feelings, and what makes you feel that way.”

Lady Salyma looks at the card, then, without revealing it, looks up at Count Andraw Iker. Then back to the card. Then, she quickly slips it into the deck and begins gathering the cards. A little flushed, she says, "Maybe Ruben is right. I shouldn’t be doing this, tipsy as I am. Such a strong, delectable wine. I don’t know all these new cards too well, either. I’m sorry. Bedtime for the old lady!”

Lady Salyma hurriedly gathers the cards and puts them away. The others look at her, astonished and surprised.

“My lady?” Count Andraw says.

"My apologies, my lord of Kesh. I do not think you would like to continue this seance with…well, all these onlookers. Maybe on the morrow, we can finish the Reading in private.”

Duke Esmond looks at her with something like suspicion in his eyes, and his daughter begs Lady Salyma to continue. The lady, however, gathers her skirts and leaves the table, snapping a finger to call the attention of one of the knights on the other side of the hall listening to Florentyn Cavell. He hurries over to escort her out of the dining hall. The knight gives everyone a courtly nod, then staggers off with her knight, her shuffling revealing her drunkenness.

In the awkward silence that follows around the table, Baron Flemmyn Saltcliffe says, “So… how about that damned weather, eh. It’s ridiculously hard to rule several islands when it’s always so damned dark, what with the shoals, and the weather…”

As the count’s mother rose from her chair, Tylendel cast a small spell, trying to read her surface thoughts, but he is unable to concentrate hard enough to make her thoughts manifest in his own mind.

Meanwhile, someone has wrapped Skender’s cloak more around him as he sleeps, and put a bowl atop his head. Several people have left the dining hall to find their beds, and the servants are busy cleaning up. One of them is cleaning vomit from the hall’s central pillar. Florentyn has left the knights’ table but is still surrounded by people who want to listen to him. Tylendel notices one of the Brysk women is keeping close to Florentyn, occasionally touching him. This lady stands out by her colorful and beautiful traditional attire, with detailed embroideries all over. She seems a bit older than the three sisters of Count Ruben, but she is also blessed with good looks. Syr Darolf is sitting alone at the end of the table, staring into his tankard, occasionally shaking his head. The three Mirovní are still seated, drinking and toasting. Their leader, Yosha, sits nonchalantly with his legs on the table. The herald is trying to convince his son to go to bed, but he’s having too much fun with the youngest Brysk girl. The two of them seem to have hit it off well, giggling and moving about, petting Ransom, the Sollani house dog, talking to each other about who knows what.

Syr Linas finally gets Dorotei’s attention. “My lady, I just want to wish you a good night. I’m, ah, going to bed now.”

“Yeah,” Dorotei replies. “See you tomorrow.”

“Yes, m’lady.”

The massive man jumps off the wooden dais, making the floor beneath his feet creak violently. He stalks off, looking unhappy.

Things are at last quietening down in the dining hall. To lighten the mood around the table after the Reading, Tylendel tells the story of the missing step at the Wolf’s Head tavern in Wickmark, and the lazy cat on the counter with its one eye opening whenever someone entered the tavern, as if it hoped to see yet another victim of the missing step. The faces around the table turn toward Tylendel and he quickly lightens the mood with his story. Soon, there is laughter as Tylendel speaks of how Eld constantly forgot that missing step. Baron Gleb laughs out loudly at the cat’s part in the tale. Dorotei looks entranced as Tylendel speaks.

This gets noticed and others join the table to hear Tylendel’s table. Young Teódor Balére is allowed to listen to the rest of the story before going to bed, the Brysk girl at his side.  When he finishes, Tylendel receives applause. The two kids at the far side of the table seem awestruck. Syr Castor raises his tankard. “I think the young man deserves a toast for this grand and funny tale.” Everyone raises whatever they have at hand and toast. “To the Greyoak!”

“Maybe we can have another tale, another evening?” Dorotei suggests.

“I guess that can be arranged,” Tylendel says and she whoops.

Duke Esmond basking in Tylendel’s shade says, “He’s as good as I told you, isn’t he?”

Soon the conversation turns to past events. The people have heard of Tylendel’s speech on Griffin Gate during his stewardship of the city and begin talking about how they now understand how good that speech must have been, when Tylendel can make a story about a cat and a missing step so captivating.

Esmond II Sollani leans over to Tylendel’s side, and looks a bit embarassed. “My lord, I was wondering if I could ask a favor of you.”

“Of course,” Tylendel replies.

“I wondered if you could…teach me….how to, eh, impress someone.”

Biting back a chuckle, Tylendel replies, “I don’t think that would be a problem, if I can find some time in the coming days.”

“Thank you, my lord, but only if you can find the time and don’t find it too bothersome.”

“Not at all.”

Esmond II remains a bit flushed, but he also looks grateful.

“What are you two whispering about”? His sister wonders.

“Nothing,” Esmond II Sollani says quickly, leaning back in his chair.

“Nothing?” Dorotei’s smile is mischievous - a smile her brother must have seen a hundred times.

“Swords and scabbards, m’lady,” Tylendel interjects.

“Boys will be boys,” she says to that.

The duke gives Tylendel a quick glance, probably noticing the double entente in Tylendel’s reply to Dorotei.

So, despite Tylendel’s intentions to get to bed early, the evening stretches out toward midnight and the conversation around the table continues whereas silence has descended elsewhere in the hall. Tylendel learns that Baron Gleb Rossyk is a gifted candlemaker, Florentyn Cavell eventually sits down as well, still flushed with excitement and he tells Tylendel that Syr Gindry apologizes for having escorted Tylendel “almost like a prisoner” to Ylon’s Glen. He also explains that Syr Vasil Sweetwood was curious about the war in the Rhynmor fiefdoms, and Florentyn had tried to regale him with what information he had.
Baron Flemmyn Saltcliffe launches into a long speech about the properties of the blue clay of the Scarred Headlands, which turns into a discussion about a blue clay shrine somewhere in Highwind Keep, where some bones are kept which Flemmyn believes must be the relics of the saint.

Eventually, though, the conversation around this table dies down too. Tylendel has noticed how Baron Gleb Rossyk constantly keeps rearranging items on the table, making sure everything is aligned, smoothing out tablecloth, moving candleholders so the space between them is equal and so forth; Tylendel learns that Duke Esmond’s father was a miracle worker who healed people in the streets of Halinhaven; that piracy is punished with execution in Halinhaven; one of the Iker sons has a horse named Lightning he loves more than his siblings; Dúsan Balére complains about the loss of his herald’s staff; and at one point Count Andraw speaks of House Obrath. Apparently, Count Baréa Obrath was forced to give his castle to the coastlanders, and that the Obraths are most likely extinct by now.

“How about Tym the Smuggler, he must surely be alive,” Baron Flemmyn Saltcliffe quips - Tym the Smuggler was a famous smuggler who never was caught.

“It’s really time to find the nest,” Baron Gleb says, stretching and yawning, and leaves the table. Tylendel excuses himself as well; Dúsan grabs his son by an ear and leads him off, and the others also begin to retreat. Tylendel ties his swordbelt around his waist, picks up the two books he salvaged, and thanks the duke and his children for inviting him.

“As always I’m honored to have lingered in your presence,” the Duke says. “The same goes to you, minstrel. I thank you from the bottom of my heart. You truly made us forget the dire times we live in.” Florentyn Cavell nods.

“It was my pleasure, m’lord,” Florentyn says. “I haven’t felt this good in many years.”
Syr Castor shakes Florentyn’s hands, and then Tylendel’s. “Thank you. You truly seem worthy of the rumors and legends.”

Dorotei is still sitting, looking at Tylendel, holding a cup of wine, swilling it back and forth. Her brother rises. “Good night to you all.”

Tylendel says his goodbyes and leaves as well. In the hallway by the grand staircase he meets Captain Ollyp, who smiles at him.

“Have you had a good time, my lord?”

“It’s been a very pleasant evening. Best I’ve had in years.”

“That is good to hear, m’lord. From the sounds I’ve heard, I do believe you. Good evening, my lord. Sleep well and may the saints watch over you.”

“Thank you,” Tylendel says.

Outside, the night is pitch black but for the scattered campfires. He passes through the courtyard and the flanking gate towers. The hill and the temple looms before him. It seems most people are sleeping; it has indeed become very late, and it’s as quiet as it can be.

Upon returning to the temple entrance he sees that the guard has changed again - to Tylendel’s surprise, he sees Haralamb Horvath. Why would such a high-ranking lord be standing guard? And why is the Holy Harvester medic, Ghoston of Rúva, standing outside? And even more surprising, Karlon Rymés, the former companion of the Golden Faith, is also standing outside the temple.

The three of them stand in a circle talking. In addition there are two guardsmen flanking the doors, three Holy Harvesters he doesn’t recognize. A third Holy Harvester is part of the circle.

“Well, this is ominous,” Tylendel says as he enters the marble platform before the doors.

Haralamb looks troubled. “M’lord Greyoak, you don’t know how right you are.”

Part 2

Ghoston of Ruva looks very distraught as Tylendel steps up to the group.
“Something happened, my lord,” Haralamb says. “It’s not good.”
“Tell me,” Tylendel says.
“Follow me.” Haralamb turns to Karlon Rymés and tells him to stay with the guards.

Haralamb takes Tylendel up to the infirmary, a long rectangular area running along the side of the temple’s west wing. Beds and cots line the eastern wall. Three adjoining small chambers hold shelves, bottles of water, and other things. Not many beds are occupied. A Knight of the Moon sleeps in one cot, however, seemingly comatose. Tylendel immediately notices the iron-like smell of blood.

Lying in another bed is the corpse of Count Ales Malíon, his cloak draped over one bedpost. A small chest with the sigil of his family stands at the bed’s end. And Tylendel sees that the lord’s throat is sliced wide open. His glazed eyes have the look of terror and surprise.

Ghoston appears in the doorway, tearful. “I’ve never seen anything like this…Not like this.”
Tylendel walks over to the count, passing the sleeping Moon Knight. A few torches along the walls give him flickering but adequate light. Haralamb and Ghoston follow, reluctantly.
The count’s blanket is still wrapped neatly around him. One arms hangs limp down to the floor.
“My pardons,” Ghoston says, “The lord outside, he said I should go up and assist you. Maybe you have questions.”
“But you already told me,” Haralamb says.
“Apologies, my lord. It’s what he said.”

Tylendel kneels, puts his hand on the count’s chest, casting a spell of divination, to look back in time, focusing on the count’s throat.

In his mind’s eye, Tylendel can see the throat being cut. Using his potent magic, he is able to see the count sleeping before a shadow appears over him; he sees a black gloved hand holding a small pouch and another black gloved hand open it and pull something out, drizzling something on the count’s lips. The count moves a little bit in his sleep, as if it tickles. One of the hands pries open the count’s lips, but the count is startled; next Tylendel sees a dagger in one of those hands, a small blade, then the other hand clamping over the count’s nose and mouth. With a wicked quick move, the blade slices opens Malion’s throat. Tylendel tries to see the rest of the person; he sees a man or woman standing over the bed. The attack is precise, hard and deep, but the assassin seems to struggle a little sawing at the man’s throat; then, Count Ales suddenly stops thrashing about. The assassin pulls the blanket over the man, turns and runs off through the southern door of the infirmary. The killer is entirely clothed in black, including a scarf covering the face. Tylendel is convinced the assassin has to be male by the way he runs; he assumes the person is between 1.70 and 1.80 meters tall.

Ghoston of Rúva appears, stopping by Count Ales’ body, looking shocked. He looks toward the southern door, then rushes after the assassin.
“I just came into the chamber my lord, I was fetching fresh water downstairs, and I saw this shadow standing over Count Ales, and he ran off, and I saw all that blood and…he fled through that door, it was half open, he just slid through, I decided to run after him…” Ghoston says as Tylendel ends the spell of seeing.
Tylendel inspects the bed around the corpse, and finds tiny, dry herb-like material near the pillow - the stuff the assassin tried to force into the count’s mouth. Tylendel immediately recognizes the material as meadow saffron.
“When I heard that noise, that terrible gurgling noise,” Ghoston continues, unable to keep silent.
“Meadow saffron. He tried to poison the count, but the count awoke so he had to cut his throat instead,” Tylendel concludes. “One or two hands taller than me,” he adds.
“Why would anyone want him dead, I don’t understand,” Ghoston wonders. “But he ran off, and I saw him, he ran across the gallery and then I squinted into the gloom. I believe I saw him swing over the balcony rail, and then there was a crash from below.”
“Let’s see if he dropped something,” Tylendel suggests, bringing out Shadowbreaker for light.

They enter the gallery following the eastern wall of the nave. They pass stacked chairs and statues and figurines adorning the wall here. A mould-ridden carpet covers the gallery floor.

Ghoston shows Tylendel where he believes the assassin to have jumped over the railing, about halfway across. Tylendel holds Shadowbreaker out to light up the gloomy nave. He sees a toppled bench, indicating that the assassin hit it on his way down.

They go down and Tylendel finds blood spattered on that bench - Count Ales Malion’s blood - they begin searching around the statue where doors lead to other parts of the temple complex, searching for more blood spatter. Eventually they are led to a west-facing window, then out and around the southern wing of the temple. Using his magic again, Tylendel searches for the dagger in his mind, which leads them to a grassy slope where they find the assassin’s discarded items - a black cloak, scarf, boots, and even the bloody dagger, under a berry bush.

Tylendel uses his magic to discern the owner of the dagger. The vision shows a man who is vaguely lit by a fire from outside a tent. He’s lying on a cot in an army tent. Tylendel recognizes him as one of the Holy Harvesters who was with Tylendel when he was attacked by Áhar and Night People from the walls near Alfons the Reverent’s gate. It looks like the fellow is sleeping.

They see a guard - a woman - down on one of the nearby trails encircling the Holy Hill. Tylendel tells Ghoston to go ask her if she’s seen anything suspicious. She turns out to be a White Thorns sergeant in the army of the prophet, a bow strapped to her back, and she gives Tylendel a deep, respectful nod when he approaches, knowing who he is. She’s tall for a woman, pale, reddish-brown hair, and has slightly bulbous eyes - a westlander by all accounts.
“Anything?” Tylendel asks.
“Go on, tell him,” Ghoston says to the woman.
She tells Tylendel that she was walking her round and she thought she heard some noise from the area where they found the discarded items. She walked up to investigate. She thought she saw a shadow slip down the slope, but wasn’t sure. At Tylendel’s request, she aids them in trying to track down the assassin by seeking out his trail. They find signs of someone passing down the slope, but soon they lose the trail.
Tylendel asks about the fellow he saw in his vision - the owner of the dagger - and she tells him that she knows this man serves in the company of Captain Harrian, and they are encamped not far from the White Thorns’ encampment.
“We thank you for your time, Sergeant Yarika,” Ghoston says.

“Let’s go look for him,” Tylendel says to Ghoston and they walk around the southern slope of the Holy Hill toward the encampments of the Holy Harvesters to see if they can find the owner of the dagger that was used to slice Count Ales Malion’s throat - a man named Demyan.

Part 3

Tylendel and Ghoston rounds the south side of the hill, towards the western side of the Evergreen Gardens, their path lit by Shadowbreaker. As they walk, Ghoston seems to have calmed down somewhat. Tylendel is walking lost in thought. Finally, they approach the encampments of the Prophet’s Host. They wind through the tents, finally finding the tent of Captain Hariam, approaching the soldier guarding the tent. The soldier squints at Shadowbreaker’s light as they come closer.

Tylendel: "Pardon the light, soldier. I need Captain Hariam."

Soldier: "Yes, Lord Greyoak. One moment."

He enters the tent, leaving Tylendel and Ghoston outside. After a moment the soldier comes out of the tent with Captain Hariam. The captain greets Tylendel.

Tylendel: "My pardon coming at this hours, Captain, but... There’s been a murder."

The captain looks out of sorts for a moment, then

Hariam: "Do come inside, please."

As they enter the tent, Tylendel reveals his purpose here.

Tylendel: "I need one of your soldiers, one named Demyan."

Hariam: "Please sit down. Can I offer you something to drink?"

Tylendel: "No, thank you."

Hariam: "Okay. Do you mind if I...?"

Tylendel: "Go ahead."

The captain fills his glass and sits down.

Hariam: "Alright. There’s been a murder, you say?"

Tylendel lays the bundled cloak on the floor, unwraps it and takes out the dagger, showing it to Captain Hariam.

Tylendel: "This dagger was used, and it belongs to Demyan. I need to know if he has been here the last few glasses, and if he has, when he lost his dagger."

Hariam: "Demyan, Demyan, do we have a Demyan. Oh! Yes. I think that’s the weaver from Menessa? Yeah, he’s one of mine, indeed. Are you saying he is involved in this?"

Tylendel: "He might be, but I need to speak with him."

Hariam: "Let me get this straight, my lord. You.. Someone is... Is someone murdered, here? With..."

He looks at the dagger.

Tylendel: "With this dagger."

Hariam: "It sure looks like a... A lot of our men have daggers."

Tylendel: "It belongs to Demyan."

Hariam: "How do you know?"

Tylendel: "Are you certain you want to know that answer, Captain? Trust me, I know."

Hariam: "If you say so. I... I have been told to trust you, and defer to you, as one of the important leaders here. I just... I know nothing of what... You have to give it to me straight, my lord, I don’t understand anything. You need to speak to this Demyan?"

Tylendel: "To Demyan---"

Hariam: "Who’s dead?!"

Tylendel: "A noble."

Hariam: "Why?"

Tylendel: "That’s what I’m trying to find out. I need to speak to Demyan. How many share each tent?"

Hariam: "Each squad in my company shares a tent, and each squad are six or seven men, depending. I... I’ll show you."

He stands up and dons his cloak, still looking rattled, and a little skeptical. The captain leads Tylendel and Ghoston through the encmapment, finally arriving at the tent they’re looking for.

Hariam: "Here he is."

He opens the tent flap, and Tylendel can see several men sleeping inside, one of them the man he is looking for. Tylendel walks over to Demyan and pokes his foot with his toe. Demyan wakes with a start and looks up at Tylendel, rubbing his eyes.

Demyan: "Hnn?"

He gives a start

Demyan: "Greyoak!"

Tylendel: "Hello, Demyan."

Demyan: "You remember my name!"

Tylendel: "I do."

Demyan: "To what do... Do... What’s going on?"

Tylendel: "Where’s your dagger?"

Demyan: "In my scabbard... Whyyy?"

He starts looking through his kit.

Demyan: "What’s going on, my lord?"

Tylendel: "Could I see your dagger, please."

Demyan: "Yeah, yeah, sure, wait."

He finally finds his scabbard, then starts looking around when he finds it empty.

Demyan: "What the..."

He starts looking for his dagger.

Demyan: "My lord."

He looks very confused.

Demyan: "What’s going on?"

Tylendel: "Are you certain you had your dagger when you went to sleep?"

Demyan: "Of course. Why wouldn’t I? What’s going on, my lord?"

Hariam: "Calm down."

Tylendel: "That’s all I needed to know. Thank you for your help."

Tylendel leaves the tent

Demyan: "But... My lord!"

Hariam: "Shh. Go back to sleep."

Demyan: "But... But I..." What the fuck?"

Hariam: "Well? Are you any wiser?"

Tylendel: "Somewhat. I need to know who’s been going in and out of this camp since the sun went down, and where Demyan’s missing bunkmates are."

Hariam: "They are probably patrolling the Garden. So you think someone perhaps... Acgtually stole that dagger?"

Tylendel: "Yes. He was asleep when the murder happened, so someone stole his dagger, cut Count Malion’s troath and threw away the dagger."

Hariam: "And you found it."

Tylendel: "Outside the temple wall."

Tylendel thinks for a while.

Tylendel: "I need to know who’s been passing in and our of this camp since, well, since nightfall."

Hariam: "I understand. I suppose we’ll need to question all the guards, then, who have been posted since sunset."

Tylendel sticks his head inside the tent.

Tylendel: "Demyan, when did you go to sleep?"

Demyan: "Excuse me?"

Tylendel: "When did you go to sleep?"

Demyan: "I don’t know. After..."

Tylendel: "Sunset?"

Demyan: "Yeah, for sure. I don’t know how long I’ve slept, I’m sorry, my lord, I..."

Tylendel: "That’s okay. Thank you."

Hariam: "Usually we try to have it quiet an hour, perhaps two, before midnight. It’s been difficult with the darkness and the gloom. It shakes up our perception of time."

Tylendel: "I know. The last few days I’ve been waking up sometimes when it’s dark, sometimes when it’s light."

He sighs

Tylendel: "Who’s been passing in and out of the... Okay, I had an idea. Yes, we need to know who’s been passing in and out since sunset."

Hariam: Yes, my lord. Should I gather them and question them, or do you wish to perform this yourself, or would you like to talk to them one by one? I hate to think that one of my people is involved in a murder. Who is this Count Malion that you mentioned? Was he a...?"

Tylendel: "He was a friend of Syr Bohumíl."
Hariam: "I see."

Tylendel: "Just find out if anyone has seen anyone entering or leaving the camp. We don’t need to gather them all in one place."

Hariam: "Yes, my lord."

Tylendel: "May I wait in your tent?"

Hariam: "Of course, my lord. Consider it your home away from home."

Tylendel turns to Ghoston.

Tylendel: "Unless you want to see what happens next, Ghoston, ask the captain to have someone escort you back up to the hill."

Ghoston: "I don’t like this one bit, my lord, nothing of it. I feel like if I had only ascended those stairs a minute earlier, I could have saved him."

Tylendel: "You’ll find that that’s a feeling everyone who’s been to a battle has felt."

Ghoston: "I guess so, but it’s my job to save people, not..."

Tylendel: "I understand."

Ghoston: "I’m sorry, my lord, I... Perhaps I should have jumped after him, I don’t know."

Tylendel: "Then I would probably have been looking into the murder of two people."

Ghoston: "And one of them with broken legs, I suppose. He must be quite a daring fellow, to make that jump. Of course, he was probably desperate as he realised he was about to... Damn it! Why coudln’t I just..."

He looks very frustrated as he follows the captain to relay Tylendel’s order.

Tylendel walks to the captain’s tent and readies himself to cast another spell. This time he cast a spell to look back in time, but focussed on Demyan’s dagger.

He sees himself holding the dagger, walking around the hill, then the dagger lying on the ground. He sees a cloaked figure sneaking around the wall of the temple, climbing backwards through a window, running through the great hall, jumping up to the gallery, finally closing the cut troath of Count Ales. He sees the figure sneaking slowly, backwards, through the temple, out a window, then through the bushes towards the encampment Tylendel is in. He sees the figure waiting for a long while in the bushes, then sneaking between the tents, into Demyan’s tent and finally sliding the dagger into its sheath.

Tylendel releases the spell and shakes his head, realising that he’s dealing with a trained assassin. He then picks up the rest of the items he found, trying to see if there’s something special about them. Holding the shawl he found, he casts the same spell once more, trying to see where it has been, hoping to see the assassin donning it. Failing to cast the spell on the shawl, he tries again on the cloak. Even though he manages to cast the spell, something resists him, and he gets the distinct feeling that the Crow-king is stopping him. It feels as if he is trying to push a magnet against it’s equal pole – then he feels a vague, but sharp, smell that reminds him of the presence of the Crow-king. Holding the cloak, he also gets the impression that it is the same make as the Crow-king’s cloak. Tylendel tries to push against the wall oppposing him, but the only reward is a sharp pain between his temples, and he releases the spell, lowring his head, resting it in his hands.

Tylendel: "Fuck:"

As he sits nursing his headache, the wind starts picking up slightly, rustling the tent. After a while he rebundles the cloak and leaves the tent. He stands outside the tent for a while, waiting for the captain, noticing more activity in the camp than when he entered. Eventually the captain returns with two soldiers in tow.

Hariam: "My lord."

Tylendel: "Captain."

Hariam: "These two claim to have heard something, or seen something, this evening, my lord."

He steps aside and the soldiers, a man and a woman, steps forward.

Tylendel: "Tell me what you saw."

The soldiers look at each other, then the man starts talking.

Male Soldier: "My lord. The captain asked if there had been anything suspicious, and after I did meself some thinking, I realised that I was startled by something."

He points towards the line of trees where Tylendel saw the assassin waiting in his vision.

Male Soldier: "Something among the trees there, but I thought it to be a bird, or one of the dogs around here or something, so I didn’t investigate any forther. I apologise for that."

The female soldier tells Tylendel that she thought she saw something amongst the tents that she followed, and then points towards the telt where Damyan slept. She investigated the area but didn’t find anything. Tylendel thanks them both and they leave.

Haryam: "Not much."

Tylendel: "Unfortunately not."

Tylendel notices the wind ruffling the captain’s hair.

Haryam: "Seems like there’s a wind coming up. About time."

Tylendel: "Yes, we need some fresh air inside the walls as well."

Haryam: "I can’t agree more."

Tylendel: "Thank you for your help, captain."

Haryam: "Just doing my duty, my lord. It’s an honour to have been able to assist you. I’ve heard much about you."

Tylendel: "Good night, captain."

Haryam: "May the saints watch over you."

Tylendel: "And you."

Weary, but mentally and physically, Tylendel makes his way back up to the temple. When entering the temple he starts making his way to his bedchamber, then changes his mind and walks up the stairs to the infirmary. There he finds Syr Bohumíl, Syr Dalibor, Syr Malor, Syr Gylian and his shadow, Captain Ira and Ghoston gathered around Count Ales’ bed. Wilmar Wyck sits by the Moon Knight. When Tylendel enters Ghoston is being questioned, and when he notices Tylendel, he diverts the others’ attention.

Ghoston: "I think my lord Greyoak will be able to explain it all better than me, I think."

He seems very shaken. Tylendel walks over and hands Bohumíl the bundled cloak.

Tylendel: "It was a sevant of the Crow-king. He stole a dagger from a Holy Harvester, he came in through a window. He tried using meadow saffron to poison Count Ales. The count awoke and the assassin cut his troath. The assassin left the way he came in, threw away these things on a slope and managed to disappear."

Ghoston looks relieved at Tylendel’s account. The others listen to Tylendel and nods.

Gylian: "It’s a tragedy, especially considering how few we are left. Here we are on this island of hope and then..."

He shakes his headache

Malor: "What’s meadow saffron?"

Tylendel: "It’s a poison."

Malor: "A coward’s weapon."

Tylendel: "But why Count Ales?"

Bohumíl: "Indeed. Why poor, old Count Ales? It doesn’t make any sense to me."

As the people standing are digesting the news, Tylendel notices the Moon Knight, Syr Florian, mumbling.

Syr Florian: "Lord. Lord Commander. Please. Lord Commander. Thom! Thom, are you there?"

Tylendel: "Of course, the assassin could have been going for another target."

He moves over to the knight

Tylendel: "The Lord Commander isn’t here now."

Wilmar looks up at Tylendelk

Wilmar: "I don’t think he hears you, my lord. He is babbling in his sleep."

Tylendel leans down to the knight

Tylendel: "What do you need to tell the Lord Commander?"

After a few heartbeats Tylendel is about to turn away, thinking Wilmar right, then suddenly...

Syr Florian: "Don’t. Stay. At the hall. They will find you."

Tylendel pats the knight’s shoulder

Tylendel: "I’ll tell him. I’ll tell the Lord Commander."

Syr Florian: "We bow beneath the howling moon."

One of his arms twich

Syr Florian: "We pledge our swords to you..."

Tylendel joins him in completing the Moon Guard oath. As they finish, his eyes suddenly pop open, startling Wilmar so much that he falls off his stool. Syr Malor hurries over.

Malor: "What the hell is going on here?"

Syr Florian grabs the collar of Tylendel’s tunic and stares at him.

Syr Florian: "We are not alone."

Then his eyes close and he falls back into his bed. Wilmar scrambles to his feet, looking confused.

Wilmar: "I think I need a drink."

The rest of the people comes over towards Tylendel, and he stands up and looks around. Everyone looks at Tylendel and the Syr Florian.
Malor: "What was this all about? Tell me."

Tylendel Greyoak: "He was trying to warn Lord Commander Thom Mollíon of the attack by the Ahár."

Malor: "Isn’t that a couple of years too late?"

Tylendel: "He was dreaming. But when he opened his eyes he said: "We are not alone.""

Malor: "You know this fellow?"

Tylendel: "Not personally. He was stationed down in the southern Vales."

Bohumíl: "I know little of about these Moon Knights, but I know they had holdfasts south of the Hall of the Watchers? Attending to small fiefs?"

Tylendel: "West of the Hall... The closest was Lilyriver, but there were some holds both north and south of Lilyriver where we got supplies for the Hall."

Bohumíl: "I see. I wonder how this one survived."

Gylian: "Or maybe he wasn’t there. If he was at his holdfast. But still, it’s a dangerous journey across the Great Plain."

While the others talk amongst themselves, Tylendel starts looking for the old, familiar flickering light revealing someone trying to stay invisible. He doesn’t see anything, then...

Wilmar: "My lord. That was miracolous. The man has been lying here with his eyes closed since he came? Did you see that? He opened his eyes!"

Tylendel scowls at Wilmar, his headache really starting to bother him.

Tylendel: "Have you never heard of Pylyp?"

Wilmar looks like he doesn’t notice Tylendel speaking

Wilmar: "It’s shame he fell asleep again, though."

He feels for the Syr Florian’s pulse

Wilmar: "He’s... He’s breathing."

Tylendel: "He’s sleeping to rest now."

Wilmar: "The lone patient in the infirmary."

Tylendel shakes his head

Tylendel: "Gentlemen, I have a blinding headache and I need to sleep."

Malor: "Drink some water."

Ghoston: "Yes, my lord, by all means. Take some water with you."

Tylendel: "We will speak in the morning. Both about this and... The Lady of Summer."

He nods to Syr Gylian

Bohumíl: "We will have the council meeting as we always have in the morning, and I guess nobody will be surprised when I say that this will be on the agenda."

Bohumíl looks at Syr Dalibor, who nods.

Bohumíl: "We cannot risk cold blooded murder in the night at this time. It’s like... It’s curcial that we keep up the spirit that we’ve been holding on to. We must make sure that the leaders of the Prophet’s Host join us tomorrow morning. It is vital that we stop this spread of unhappiness."

Tylendel: "I have a plan about that."

Syr Malor grins.

Malor: "Of course you have."

Tylendel: "I have this... The books. Where did I leave the books?"

Bohumíl: "We found a couple of books by Count Ales’ bed. Are they yours?"

Tylendel: "Yes, that’s the ones."

Bohumíl picks them up and hands them to Tylendel, then turns to Syr Malor.

Bohumíl: "My lord Mefester, will you take charge of guarding the temple? Double the guards this night."

Malor: "Yes, my lord."

Bohumíl: "I want guards on the perimeter outside as well."

Gylian: "If I may suggest something, maybe we should have guards around every keep. Who knows?"

As they agree and start leaving, Tylendel asks Syr Bohumíl

Tylendel: "And if you could have one of the guards wake me at dawn tomorrow at dawn. I’ve claimed a room in the west wing, second floor, fourth door on the left."

Bohumíl: "I’ll see to it. Rest well, friend."

____________________________________


Tylendel wakes up of someone knocking on his door.

Tylendel: "Fvvvww... Yes. Yes."

A deep voice answers from outside: "Lord Greyoak? I have been instructed to summon you to the council meeting."

Tylendel rolls out of bed and staggers upright. He answers rather groggily, still mentally worn out from yesterday’s expenditure of magical energy.

Tylendel: "I’ll be right there."

He douses his face in water and starts getting into his armour. As he’s about to leave his chamber, he turns around and picks up the book about the Lady of Summer. Outside his door Benn Bhoris waits. Bhoris seems grumpy, so the walk down to the House of Martial Holies passes in silence – the wind has picked up considerably during the night, so Tylendel thinks that may be the couse, but he doesn’t dwell on it. The guard outside the council chamber doors seems familiar to Tylendel, but, being distracted by today’s agenda, he can’t recall where he has seen him before.

At the meeting there are more people than usual. A number of knights are standing near what has become the council table; Syr Malor’s knights and captains; Haxley Hossworth, Syr Compton, Syr Morton, Quartermaster Ëamhyn, amongst many others.

Syr Bohumíl opens the meeting by addressing the gatered knights. He informs them about the death of Lord Ales Malion and this is something they need to discuss. He doesn’t explain much og what Tylendel discovered the night before, instead focussing on finding out who already knows and who should know, on how those gathered should work to prevent more assassinations. When Bohumíl is finished, Tylendel adds his own thoughts.

Tylendel: "We have now stayed at the Holy Hill for two weeks, and obviously we have been lackluster in making sure that the Hill is secure. There have reports of supplies missing, strange things happening in the forts along the wall, and now there is a Cult assassin. We have, what... Six, seven thousand soldiers within the walls, with nothing to do?"

Syr Malor: "Except complaining."

Tylendel: "So why don’t we take a few companies now, to search everything, from top to bottom?"

Bohumíl: "I suggest that you, my lord Greyoak, be in charge of the investigation. I have... I have all the faith in you that I can muster. Everyone here will be at your command when it comes to this, so you will... I’ll let you take the responsibility, if you do not mind."

Tylendel: "I’ll take care of it."

Bohumíl: "I don’t think anyone here is more qualified."

Nods around the table. Syr Dostan leans forward and looks at Tylendel.

Dostan: "Do you believe there is a link between Ironheart Tower and this tragedy?"

Tylendel: "It is possible, although I doubt a Cult assassin that was sent here by the Crow-king would have been so careless, but right now I want to make sure. I want to search... Everything."

Syr Bohumíl turns to Syr Dalibor.

Bohumíl: "Herald, I’ll give you the responsibility of providing Greyoak with whatever he needs. Information on which captain leads which company, which sargeant leads what squad, the guard rotation on the walls, whatever he requires."

Dalibor: "Yes, my lord."

The council talks back and forth about this for a while before Bohumíl dismisses those that have other duties. Next Ëamhyn delivers his report on the progress of the craftsmen. They are well on their way with reconstruction and the Sculptor’s Workshop is being converted to a smithy with room for several smiths. As the smith finishes his report and leaves, Tylendel speaks up.

Tylendel: "Syr Gylian."

Gylian: "My Lord."

Tylendel: "Do you know anything about the connection between the Lady of Summer and the Lost God Found?"

Gylian: "Well, she is one of His saints."

Tylendel: "I believe that the sprit of the Lady of Summer guided Lady Restina up in the mines. Don’t ask me how I believe it; it came to me yesterday. Lady Restine was buried in the Everspring Garden yesterday, and I blieve that the spirit of the Lady of Summer is with us here now."

Every face is turned towards Tylendel. After a short silence Bohumíl answers.

Bohumíl: "If you say so."

Tylendel: "There has been unrest amongst the troops."

Syr Gombald: "We do struggle with morale."

Tylendel: "I’d like everyone to know that the Lady of Summer is with us here now. I want everyone who knows how to sing and play to learn these hymns," Tylendel holds up the book, "and play them. Walk amongst the soldiers. If there are any takes about the Lady of Summer, tell them. Tell them about the Lady of the Mines as well, that they are connected."

Bohumíl: "One thing is for sure, almost everyone that we managed to save spoke very highly of her, spoke about how she did everything she could for them, for all of them, and indeed they were clamoring for her."

Tylendel: "That’s why I believe that the Lady of Summer helped Lady Restina. That she gave her strength and courage."

Dalibor: "It sounds strange."

Tylendel: "I know."

Dalibor: "But everything is strange these days."

Tylendel: "It’s very strange. I... I don’t know where the thought came from, but I feel it is the right thing. I feel that I am right about this." He shakes his head. "Listen to me talking about feelings when I should be talking about tactics, but I think this will help to keep people together. To give them courage and hope."

Gylian: "Now don’t undersell yourself, young Greyoak. It’s a wise tactic. It’s a tactic to employ against faltering morale."

Tylendel: " And if the Crow-king is trying to sow discord between the Westerners and the Borkans as well, this could help stop it." He pauses to think. "Because... Yesterday’s attack against Count Ales... He stole the dagger of a Westerner. It could be to try to sow discord, leave the blooded dagger where it could be found."

The rest of the meeting concerns logistics and smaller issues around the city – Gombaly Nobry will take a troop on patrol in the city; Haralamb Horvath will supervise reinforcing a spot on the wall that is deemed weak. Duke Sollani talks about the raising and repairing the ship, but there are still many uncertainties and wants to spend the day for planning. Syr Dostan offers the help of his Holy Harvesters. Karlon Rhymés takes it upon himself to arrange matters with minstrels about spreading the word about the Lady of Summer.

As the lords are leaving, Tylendel tells Duke Esmond that he’d like to accompany him to the docks as soon as he’s had some breakfast. The duke is happy with Tylendel’s offer, and asks him that they meet in the courtyard of Highwind Keep as soon as he has eaten.

Stepping out of the House of Martial Holies after having eaten, Tylendel again notices the strengthening wind. He can see the dark clouds roiling near the light hole in the blackness covering the sky, and the thought strikes him that the wind feels like the usual late winter winds from the east. He hurries across the Everspring Garden to Highwind Keep, where Duke Esmond Sollani is awaiting him with a cart drawn by two of the last remaining horses in the city, a knight and ten soldiers. Tylendel sits up front with the duke, who is holding the reins – as they leave Alfond the Reverend’s Gate Tylendel notices Lukska standing guard, saluting them.

Esmond: "It feels good to be out and about, despite the ruins around us."

Tylendel: "I must admit I miss riding."

The journey down towards the harbour passes in silence. They pass the delapitated remains of the city, the shop, the guild houses, keeps and manors. The ruins of Camrey Castle sticks out of the river like accusing fingers. They come to Iblie Mau, where they see Highguard Castle, where Andelik Borna once had his offices; They pass the Crown and Sword Guest House, a grand manor that was used by the Visiting Lord of the council. The gate to Ilbie Mau is like a fortress with a fortiefied yard, leading to the Street  of Lamps, down the hill to the harbour. They cross the Blacksail Bridge and enter the warehouse district. They ride through the district until they reach the Sollani Warehouses, where the doors are still closed. The soldiers manage to prise open the gates and Duke Sollani drives the cart inside. Within the palisade surrounding the courtyard there are two large and two small warehouses.

Esmond: "I can’t believe I’m seeing this again."

Tylendel: "Was there anything stored here when the Ashfall came?"

Esmond: "I’d be surprised if there wasn’t, but who knows? But I’m surprised that so many of these buildings seem to have been left fairly intact. But then again, what interest would the Enemy have in bolts of cloth or..."

Tylendel: "Well, the gates were closed so maybe it hasn’t been looted."

Esmond: "I... Cannot allow myself to hope."

As Duke Esmond and his men go to search the northernmost large warehouse, Tylendel makes his way to the southermost. The doors are chained closed,

(Esmond: "My duchy for a key!")

but Tylendel casts a quick spell to remove the chain. He starts feeling the strain of several days with little sleep and magical strain, and staggers and leans on the doors a few seconds.

Tylendel: "Fuck."