Post Mortem

Bennett pants:

"Damn! What a fight! And I missed the whole goddamn thing!"

He looks back toward the Square as if he very much wants to return, but even he isn't that stupid.

Panting from the exertion of dragging the heavy dwarf, Winnacer shouts at the party:

"Quickly, into the back room."

It is a fair effort to drag the giant-sized dwarf and Saxon into the back room, but they manage it between them somehow.

"We can't stay here for long," Winnacer says. "I imagine that the archers will be coming after us shortly, and those units that were feared will probably be rallying at the moment as well."

"Let me just see to Gronk," Aneira says. "Again."

With that, she begins to cast another healing spell upon the dwarf and, once again, Gronk, who is proving to have several more lives than the average cat, picks himself up off the floor and tries to figure out what the hell is going on.

"It ain't proper o' us ta keep meetin' like 'is," Gronk says as he looks up to see Aneira tending to him again. "We be needin' ta scoot outta here right quick like. Ain't gonna be long 'tils 'ey come alookin' for us."

Aneira looks at Gronk:

"If you will try to stay upright a bit more carefully, we may even have some success at this escape thing."

Once she is done with that, Bennett, whose first unparalyzed sight was Aneira, assumes that she somehow dispelled the magic. He grabs her, picks her up, and kisses her.

"Thank you for saving my life!" he says with much sincerity.

Aneira simply freezes, unable or unwilling to comprehend what Bennett is doing. For a brief instant, she looks almost terrified at his actions, then collects herself and looks at him coolly:

"I had nothing to do with it."

She then turns and ignores him, as if nothing has happened.

Bennett blushes for a brief moment, then smile and says:

"Oh, well, I wanted to do that anyway!"

He then sees to escaping, obviously quite happy with himself.

Faewen'il curses quietly to herself in a corner as she binds her wounds with a strip torn from the bottom of her cloak. Only when it was done, did she stand back up and look about her, a sack full of things near her feet.

"Get tha hell outta here... I still have some spells left ta keep them occupied while yar leavin," she says in her typical acid tone to the party.

Winnacer looks at the injured form of Faewen'il, knowing that she is the last person that should be playing rearguard to pursuing archers.

He then turns to the rest:

"Get going you all, I'll watch the back with Fae! Take Sylva with you and keep her down, no matter what!"

Faewen'il gives him a dark look, but says nothing to gainsay him. She quickly goes about filching the wand out of the bag before walking over to hand it to him to carry.

"Carry this....tha blades be magical iffen ye need one o tha damned thins..." Fae mutters, wincing at the pain the arrows were giving her.

Bennett, who pauses briefly considering the same thing as Winnacer, reaches out for the bag:

"Grab a weapon, Winn, and let me take the bag. If you've got to fight, you don't need the burden."

He then ties the bag off to his belt.

With that, the group takes their leave of the still petrified Scribe and his family, leaving through the gap in the back wall where the door used to be. Bennett leads the way, carrying the still snoozing form of Sylva over his shoulder. Following him comes Aneira, who is struggling to drag the held form of Priest Born along the way. Next comes the giant-sized Gronk, who is struggling under the weight of the giant-sized Xavier. Bringing up the rear are Winnacer and Faewen'il, who keeps looking over her shoulder to check that they are not being followed.

Not wanting to risk getting too close to the Merchants' Guild, the group heads south as fast as they can. As they cross over the main street, they see that the street is filled with citizens who are still milling around in panic, having escaped from the Square. At the sight of the giants, they panic even more and run away from the group in terror.

After moving a couple of blocks south, the group starts to head east on a roundabout route that will take them back to the rendezvous point that is the Silver Unicorn. It is a hard job carrying the dead weight of Xavier and the Priest, and so movement is painfully slow. Thankfully, however, after a few minutes, both Priest Born and Xavier start to come around from their helpless states. Although Xavier is still sluggish as a result of Jihan's sleeping venom, he is able to walk unaccompanied, which makes life a lot easier. Gronk takes over the role of carrying Sylva from Bennett once Xavier is able to move under his own steam and the giant dwarf has no trouble carrying the slim woman.

As the party continues to move down the streets that are alive with panicked citizens, Jihan spots them, having left his spot on the Square and correctly guessed the route that they would be taking back to the Silver Unicorn. Upon joining them, he takes the point position and guides them through the backalleys back to the tavern.

It is quite obvious to them on the journey that the city and the garrison in particular is in total disarray. On several occasions, they observe Nyemetz patrols dashing either to or away from the Square. It is quite apparent that they really don't have much of a clue what they should be doing and are desperately looking for someone to tell them what to do. On one occasion, a company of goblins rounds a corner to come face to face with the party. They take one look at the three giant sized warriors, and immediately scatter in order to avoid a confrontation.

As a result, after a fifteen-minute journey, the party is back close to the tavern. Jihan scouts the place out to ensure that there are no Nyemetz around, as there is no way to cover up the huge stature of the giant warriors. However, all seems to be clear and so the group heads into the tavern.

Upon entering the Silver Unicorn, the innkeeper looks on in alarm as the three giants enter the place. He quickly ushers them all into the back room begging them not to leave the place until they have reverted back to their original sizes.

As they enter the room, they see that Hana, Magda and several of the priests and priestesses of Spravedelna are waiting for them. There is a tremendous look of relief upon everyone's faces as they see them enter. Magda rushes up and tries to throw her arms around Winnacer, but fails as a result of his enlarged form:

"Thank Spravedelna that you made it," she says, crossing herself with the sign of her goddess.

The dwarven matron of a priestess rolls her eyes as she sees Gronk entering, barely able to walk as a result of his numerous injuries:

"In trouble again are you, youngster?" she asks shaking her head. "It seems that for the past few days I've been nothing more than your personal nursemaid. This can't go on forever, you know. You're not the only person in this city that needs looking after."

"Anythin' ta be near ya again," Gronk says as he casts a wide grin at the priestess.

She smiles weakly as she shakes her head once more and then sets about the all too familiar task of patching the dwarf up. The other priests and priestesses start to tend to the wounds of the other injured.

During the healing administrations, two more walk into the room and they all look up to see that it is Glorin accompanied by the other priest of Spravedelna. Both of them are covered in cuts and bruises and are looking heart-broken. Glorin tosses a large sack upon the table in the center of the room, which falls with a loud metallic clank. The dwarf then falls into a chair in the corner and holds his head in his hands, saying nothing for a long while. Eventually, he looks up at them all:

"Them were some o' the best mates what I ever had," he says gloomily. "Them orogs were tougher than what I thought."

He shakes his head again:

"Nine o' me mates dead. Was it worth it?" he asks himself.

Bennett walks over toward him:

"I am sorry, my friend. Things did not go as well as planned. I had hoped we would not lose so many. But take heart! We put a righteous trouncing on the bastards! Their leaders are dead, and they won't forget this day. Our friend bard will sing songs celebrating the heroism of your friends. Your mates are now drinking in the halls of Moradin, and being treated to the finest things, that a dwarven hero must only dream of in life! Take heart in that, and know that when your time comes, you will see them again, and partake of Moradin's ale alongside them, no matter how far away that might be!"

Glorin pauses for a moment and then points to the sack on the table:

"Your weapons are in the sack. Next time you use them, jus' remember them what died to get 'em back for yers."

When Gronk realizes that Thunder may be in the sack, he tears into it expectantly. When his eyes catch sight of Thunder, he freezes for a moment, then picks the axe up gently and hugs it. Tears begin streaming from his eyes and get lost in his beard. All thoughts of revolution and the current situation are lost in this moment of reunion. Life is good again.

Further conversation is interrupted by the next arrival. This time it is Yaz, who seems to be pretty much unscathed from his little adventure in the worg kennels.

Before Yaz has a chance to tell the results of his trip, they then hear a coughing sound and look over to see that Sylva is starting to come round. Immediately she is leapt on by Bennett and Xavier, who pin her to the ground. She is still very groggy and so is able to put up little resistance.

"Who is she?" asks Hana.

"The Nyemetz spy," Magda says with an obvious tinge of bitterness in her voice. "The one who we can blame for alerting the Nyemetz to the location of the villages."

"She's the one that has the power of moving by sheer force of will?" Hana asks.

"That's right," nods Magda.

"I had never heard of one with such powers before," Hana replies as she looks at Sylva with interest. "I asked Head Librarian Konig about her powers and he said something about having the blood of the Old Ones running through her veins, or something like that, but he then started to get side tracked and started to get his collection of fossils out. I did manage to discover, however, that the way to negate the use of such powers is to blindfold them. As long as she doesn't know exactly where she is and isn't able to see anywhere, then the chance of her emerging in the middle of a wall or something will be too great for her to risk."

Magda nods and immediately takes her scarf and blindfolds Sylva with it.

Just a few minutes later, Will returns, having finished leading the two goblin companies on a merry dance through the city. Oldrich is in the room, totally paralytic as usual. He invites Will over to join him in a drink.

Will walks quietly in and sits next to Oldrich. He eyes the prone form or Sylva suspiciously and occasionally glances in the direction of Fae.

When Oldrich orders him a drink, he accepts it, but does not partake of it, but rather holds it in his hands, looking down into the glass as if trying to see answers in the dark mead.

The dark look on his face continues as he broods in silence.

A short while later, the final visitor arrives in the shape of Padre Kokal. He is looking fairly beaten up and bruised and in a similar mood to Glorin and the Priest of Spravedelna. Unusually for the Padre, he is not much in the mood for conversation:

"Radegast has 37 new arrivals in His hall this evening," he says sadly as he looks at the ground, not looking up at the others.

As the tally of dead comes to light, the flame of anger burns in the bard's eyes, yet he does not make accusations, but rather sits and stares into his drink.

At that point, the outlines of Winnacer, Gronk and Xavier start to shrink. Within but a few seconds, they have reverted back to their original sizes.

A weak smile crosses Xavier's face as his body returns to normal:

"Yah, Padre much blood has been spilt this day. As painful as it is, I find it hard to see der day that there vill be a time vhen Rodengast's hall vill not be blessed vith new arrivals. A soldier's life is hard, and harder too for one who has taken the holy oath. Der brave lads shall be honored like all who have died by my side, in my prayers"

Xavier, his head downcast, makes the sign of the inverted sword over his heart:

"Let us drink to their memory, for one knows not vhen, over the threshold of Rodengast's hall shall our own boots tread."

Xavier limps over to the bar, looking old, his youth crushed by the guilt of survival of another bloody battle.

"Aye, they surely will have an honored place in his Hall, but they were not entered into his order nor taken in training simply t'die," Kokal replies gravely, as he follows Xavier over to the bar.

"Only too honored am I to drink to the memory of their courage and sacrifice in what we have today achieved .... but may Radegast forgive my part in that there are not more of them to drink to it themselves. May He cover their souls in glory and bless those they leave behind with pride in their courage and ultimate victory over the Nyemetz scourge, that they will not have died in vain."

Kokal raises a glass and takes a long swallow, then crosses himself with his inverted sword holy sign, closes his eyes, bows his head and sits quietly for long moments before turning again to Xavier.

"Radegast has truly been with ye this day, Sir Xavier," Kokal says. "T'would be no surprise if the story of ye bravery on that Square is still being told by the grandsons of ye grandsons. How are ye wounds? Could ye stand t'feel Radegast's hand as ye reward?"

"Danke Padre, der blessings of Rodengast vould be most welcome," the Saxon responds.

Xavier then raises his goblet.

"To those comrades ve miss, ve salute their bravery and drink to the day that ve join them in Rodengast's hall!"

Xavier drinks deeply and then turns to face the Padre again:

"Padre Kokal, tell me of yourself. Me, I took the oath as a boy of 14, a squire to a Knight Commander of my order, an oath which gave purpose to a lost soul in the pit of despair. From the Trauloft estates in Saxony to the destruction of my order at Lake Roga sixteen years later, I served. Vhat of you? How did you come to his service?"

"My father was a soldier who died resisting the Nyemetz invasion when I was nine years old," Kokal replies, "nigh on 20 years now, leaving my mother and younger sister, Katarina, here to fend for ourselves as the accursed yoke of occupation fell on this town. An' even as the fire to avenge my father smoldered in my heart, so too did fear. What could a mere boy effect, 'specially when the stoutest warrior I had known had already fallen? Someday, I told myself, maybe I'd be strong enough."

"Someday," the Padre says, with a snort of disgust.

"As I cowered in my fear an' weakness, th'Nyemetz tightened their oppressive grip on this citizenry, wreaking vile atrocity and afront. Finally, it reached my own front door nine years ago when some scum of the garrison took Katarina's life as she resisted their try at 'er virtue."

"Damned disgrace!" the Padre growls in bitter self-recrimination, scolding as if he were speaking only to himself. "SHE managed to resist, a girl not far more than a child, while I waited for ..... for what? For magic to one day make me less a coward?"

Catching himself, Kokal turns back to Xavier, with a bit of a rueful smirk.

"I am sorry, Sir Xavier -- sometimes the pain is not so far away as I think."

"Best t'bring an end t'this dirge, I think once my sister's death had been taken, I at last last resolved t'do something against the cursed invaders. After Katarina was laid in 'er grave next t'our father, I finally set out t'try an' take long-due retribution on this scourge that fouls our homeland and our families. An', I thought, what better way t'choose in it than th' war god's, eh? So into Radegast's 'oly order I came, an' every day since my faith grows that He shall bestow upon us all the skill an' strength to expel the Nyemetz -- long as we provide th'will."

"But enough! I doubt Padre Lukas would approve of my 'oldin' services 'ere at the bar!" Kokal says, lightening up. "I had heard from him -- ye know that 'e is Radegast's high priest here -- that you were at Lake Roga, Sir Xavier. Pray tell me what story ye have of it -- an' the rest of ye long struggles in Radegast's call?"

"Yar, mein freund, the oath brings some comfort to those who have lost much in their lives," Xavier starts. "The Company of St Herman vas my close family, in der greater extended family of my Order of the Holy Teutonic Brothers of Rodengast....In them did I find belonging when my pater, the head of the house of Trauloft, cast me aside. The company vas all the family I had..... In 14 years, I rose through the ranks from a humble squire, to an Schutze, Scharfuhrer, Knight and finally Standartenfuhrer of the St Herman company. Yar to the bloody rank of Knight Commander did I climb. Upon the banks of the frozen expanse of Lake Roga, did I lead my brave company of men. Two hundred brave men of the Inverted Sword, One hundred and fivety on horse, 50 or so on foot."

Xavier continues to drink heavily as he speaks, his words more and more slurred as the story continues:

"Ve brought der whoreson Grand Duke Michkail to ground, forcing him to battle after pursuing him for months after his defeat at Bryansk. Ve won a great victory under the banner of that exiled Bohavian General Zizkov. Ve pursued the battered remains of his army for three weeks. Then, like a trapped fox, he turned against us."

Xavier voice goes quiet, and decends into a quiet whisper:

"Split from der main force, mein company found der Duke licking his wounds across der lake. Vhat fools ve vere. Ve had no idea of vhat gold may buy for a man without honor. Seeing but the shattered remains of his 30 odd human cossacks, less than 60 odd starving goblin spearmen and 30 odd whoreson Grey elf mercenaries flown from justice in Saxony, ve saw glorious victory across the lake. Ve charged vith the Banner of St Herman flying high. Ve knew not vhat hit us, the foul sorcery no man of honor vould use in warfare that der Grey elves carried in their midst, the greatest of traitors to mankind. Five former countrymen of Saxony. Five butchering whoreson survivors of the Iron Guard which once held Saxony in thrall. These warrior mages tapped into the power of the earth, and called forth devasting powers which wretched the solid footing of the ice from beneath us."

"Der ice opened up, swallowing us all...... Rodengast help us........ , young boys vithout beards, veterans, drunkards, farmers, patriots, the faithful and the faithless..... all drowned like rats.... Of those mounted I, der most holiest of knights, der cursed leaders of these brave souls vas alone dragged from der ice by one of your countrymen, a man called Luther, a humble farmer, whose dead wife had broken his heart and sent him forth to Rus upon taking the oath."

'Der guilt of my survival is the greatest burden I carry, mein freund. Not since the passing of dat grim day five years ago, have I had the heart to command. Der young Lord Winnacer and the cause of Bohavian independence is my salvation. To see Bohavia free vas the last wish of mein fruend Luther who died of marsh fever three months ago. That promise I shall keep....."

Xavier staggers to his feet:

"Mein freund, I have bored your enough vith my old tales of war..... One day vill I find peace in Rodengast's hall... it is long overdue."

Padre Kokal maintains a rapt and respectful silence as Xavier spins his tale, and nods as he falls into silence:

"Then may Radegast grant ye 'eart respite, for the noble service ye and ye comrades went to for him on that frozen field. After seeing the fate of the Foot today in the Square, p'raps I can know more deeply what ye talk of. T'is, I think, one of the maddening riddles of our faith, eh? For all our devotion and dedication t'servin' it arright, war is still sometimes a fickle master and does not always grant victory as we would like or think we deserve. But do not despair, Sir Xavier -- Radegast may yet bring ye to th'honor ye so richly deserve ... in His own time."

Seeing Glorin still looking glum while sat in the corner, Bennett walks over toward him:

"I am sorry, my friend. Things did not go as well as planned. I had hoped we would not lose so many. But take heart! We put a righteous trouncing on the bastards! Their leaders are dead, and they won't forget this day. Our friend bard will sing songs celebrating the heroism of your friends. Your mates are now drinking in the halls of Moradin and being treated to the finest things that a dwarven hero must only dream of in life! Take heart in that, and know that, when your time comes, you will see them again, and partake of Moradin's ale alongside them, no matter how far away that might be!"

Bennett tries to put on a happy face and is relieved to find that his attempt at cheering up Glorin has worked:

"I suppose you're right, Bennett, lad," he says shaking his head. "Everyone's got to die sometime an' there ain't no better way o' dyin' than with an axe in yer 'and. They didn't die in vain, neither. Quite what the result o' what we did in the Square today is gonna be, I don't rightly know, but it sure as 'ell told the folks o' this city that there are those 'ere that ain't jus' gonna sit back an' let the Nyemetz treat us like slaves."

"Damn right!" Bennett replies. "I just hope that all those folks that were resisting didn't die in the doing of it."

The thought brings Bennett down a bit.

While listening to Glorin's reply, Bennett approaches the bulging sack that the dwarf deposited upon the table and opens it. His eyes widen in amazement as he pulls out Retribution and Zsolt's shield. He shakes his head:

"I am not worthy of this."

Glancing fondly at the weapon, he hands it to Glorin:

"It's the weapon of a dwarven hero, and I think you qualify. If you care for it at all, it's yours."

Glorin just shakes his head:

"No mate, I'm no hero. I'm just a blacksmith what wants to see 'is city free so that 'e can jus' get on wiv 'is easy life. If I 'ad an' 'ero's axe, then I'd 'ave to be an 'ero, an' that's not what I wants to be."

Bennett nods.

"You keep the axe an' make sure that it keeps drinkin' greenskin blood on a regular basis," Glorin finishes with something approaching a smile.

Bennett hefts it, secretly happy the offer was not taken up:

"Aye, I'll do that, don't you worry!"

"Anyways, I ain't one for makin' no speeches, an' I'm thirsty. I'd rather drink 'orses' piss than this dishwater what you 'umans call ale. I'm goin' back down the pub. Yer welcome to join us later if yer fancies."

"I jus' came 'ere to make sure that yer gots the weapons an' stuff. It should all be there, apart from the armor yer missin'."

Bennett smiles, but then speaks before Glorin leaves:

"Remember that your assault took place in front of the Witchfinders' Building, and it's for certain that some of them saw your boys. You might want to lay low for a while until the heat dies down. As for joining you, I would love to. However, because of the danger that would put you in, I will decline. Don't worry, I'll return some time real soon, and when I do, then I hope we can finally free your city from the greenskins foul taint forever. Fare well."

With that Glorin rises and walks towards the door:

"See yer later," he says as he makes his way from the room.

Once Bennett is away from Glorin, he curses himself roundly for falling victim to the magic and not being able to participate. Then, shaking his head, he continues to go through the sack.

Will watches in silence as the bag is emptied. He is watching for The Educator and Teachers Pet, his magical sword and dagger, though he makes no move to retrieve anything, but rather sits silently.

Bennett then draw Zsolt's sword from the bag and hands that to Xavier:

"You bore this with pride, my friend, and I think Zsolt would be happy to have you continue to bear it."

It is obvious that Bennett is not feeling particularly worthy at the moment.

"Danke, Herr Bennett, it is indeed vith pride that I once again bear the arms of this brave warrior," Xavier replies. "Thinking of him, a thought comes to mind. I wonder how our freund der bugbear is getting on. The strangest sword brother I ever had, but a heart as brave and honourable as any I have met. I pray to Rodengast that he has faired vell!"

Bennett is then brought to attention, however, by Sylva's voice:

"If you are going to kill me, then you might as well do it now," she says with no sign of fear in her voice, just disappointment.

Bennett grabs one of Sylva's daggers, and holds it to her throat so closely that any motion from her in the slightest will bring the edge against her skin. Any speech will result in a fairly nasty cut, and any motion other than that will be the end of her.

Faewen'il suffered her wounds to be tended to by the priestesses; though as soon as they were through, she rummaged through the sack she had Winnacer carry for her and dumps some of the items on the table, the rest, she leaves in the bag and carries up to her room. On the table Sylva's two daggers can be seen, the Lord Protektor's sword and Kurtek's dagger.

Shortly afterwards, she returns wearing the amulet of mind reading and approaches the groggy Sylva, sitting near to her and touching the amulet.

Several minutes later, Fae furrows her brow and begins to question the still groggy woman in a sweet voice, though the party is well aware that that tone of voice usually means something unpleasant. Her hand is still firmly on the amulet as she does so; shooing Bennett and his dagger away from her throat.

Bennett steps back, but only enough for Fae to practice her arts. He does not withdraw far enough that he couldn't be back on her in an instant.

"She might try an kill harself with ye blade at har throat; an I mean ta have her knowledge," Fae said to Bennett before turning her attention back to the woman before her.

Bennett shrugs:

"Now or later, it's all the same to me."

Inside, Will is anxious to hear the testimony of Sylva, and wary of Fae and her medallion. The girl has far from overcome his suspicions, but he yet maintains his silence.

Aneira was uneasy. Something was missing. Oh, yes, it was Kurtek, her foe for the last six months. The focus of her existence was dead. It was a strange feeling. Instead of the joy she thought she would be feeling, she felt only emptiness. Odd, really. She watches as Fae prepares to make Sylva talk, and the idea of it suddenly repulses her. She cannot watch this happen, no matter how much the woman had betrayed the others. It was like Fae was raping Sylva's mind. She shudders and walkes out of the room.

Xavier sits quietly alone at the bar, his thoughts deep casts his eye upon the confused Aneira, her whole demeanor, a reflection of old pains he had experienced. He knows that hollowness of feeling when a long term enemy has been found to be dead, when your life has been fueled only by vengeance, for so many years. The end of that trail does not always bring relief.

Feeling his age, Xavier rises to his feet and follows the departing Aneira. Once outside the room he calls to her.

"Frau Aneira! Please let us talk some."

Aneira stops and waits for a moment, listening to Xavier.

Xavier makes quick strides to catch up with her and then starts to speak:

"It vill bring you some relief to speak to a freund. No one alive knows more of vengeance and its often hollow consequences than a Saxon. Vengeance is part of our national character. It is said by our enemies that the pursuit of this is all that gets us out of bed in the morning"

Xavier laughs weakly.

Aneira finds nothing funny in the statement and is slightly confused when Xavier laughs. She merely blinks at the man.

"Please, Fraulein, take a seat," Xavier continues, "the afternoon is not too cool and ve can talk. The loss that you feel in your heart for the demise of your enemy Kurtek is not unusual."

Xavier sits down, offering Aneira the seat beside him.

Aneira sits down, not really knowing what else to do.

Back inside the inn, Yaz watches the Sylva-Bennett-Fae proceedings solemnly, partly wishing he could ask Prirodna to see if Sylva was charmed, but knowing in his heart that she's a traitor. He lets things proceed in silence.

Faewen'il watches the priestess depart and then continues to devote her attention to Sylva:

"Yar swift death be in me hands, Sylva, so I be suggestin to ye that answer me questions truthfully. Thar be a whole hanfull o people that would be lovin ta see ye tortured far yar crimes against tha revolution. I donna thin ye would like ta be drug village ta village far thar administrations over tha winter... an yes, I would make sure ye war kept alive through it all an unable ta use yar powers o tha mind."

"I thin that it would be best for ye ta start yar tale from tha beginnin, on why ye be workin far tha Nyemetz. Tha end o yar tale should include everythin ye did on yar assignment ta hand us over ta tha Nyemetz. We all want ta hear every detail, who ye told what an who knows o tha locations, names an descriptions o people in tha revolution."

Faewen'il then bent down to whisper something in her ear.

"I suggest ye start talkin."

Sylva sighs deeply. It seems to be apparent that she is more than aware of the power of the amulet and so does little in order to try and withhold information:

"My father was the Lord Protektor of Brunn until he was assassinated by terrorists similar to yourselves some twelve years ago, when I was still a child. My father was a good man and loved me dearly, as I did he. I vowed upon that day that I would devote my life to bringing those responsible for his death to Justice and others like them that would seek to overthrow the system of government that the Nyemetz have rightfully put in place."

Bennett begins to interrupt the tale, but a stern glance from Fae silences him quickly.

"As a result I joined the STB, the Nyemetz' undercover intelligence division, and was trained in the ways of deep cover espionage and assassination techniques," continues Sylva. "It took me more than five years to bring my father's murderers to justice, but I accomplished my task."

Will breaks his silence as he speaks coldly from the corner table:

"Who were they? Are there any left that escaped the efficiency of your traitorous blades?"

"They were a group of individuals very similar to yourselves," Sylva coldly replies. "There were about eight of them including several fighting men, a couple of priests and a witch. There were four humans, three elves and a half elf. Like you, they found it very hard to get on with one another and so they went their separate ways not long after murdering my father. It was then quite easy for me to follow them and take them out one by one."

"I was brought in to investigate the rapid rise in terrorist activity in the Hradetz area," she continues. "I assumed, correctly, that the Games would be too much of an opportunity for you to pass up and so I headed there, posing as one who was loyal to your misguided cause and was able to infiltrate your band with ease. Although it would have been easy to call in support from Witchfinders and the Nyemetz army to have killed you at any point, I knew that, the longer I stayed with you, the more rebel activity I would be able to unearth. As a result, I told my superiors to simply put your allies under observation in the understanding that the longer we waited, the more people would be dragged into the net."

"I have to say that I was very successful in my task. The only mistake that I made was to assume that you would not survive the encounter with the elite force and it is as a direct consequence of that action that I am going to die."

"So obviously I know everything that you know and my cell head, whose cover is the landlord of the Green Frog in Hradetz Kralovye, knows most if it too. He knows that the loyalty of Lady Protektor Malkova of Dvur is with you terrorists and she is currently under observation by the Witchfinders, who are waiting for her to make her move. He knows about the identity of Davros the Dogmatic and he too is under observation."

"Damn! He got it all!" exclaims Bennett.

"He knows that the Church of Kozlo has merged into the Church of Kitry and so, by now, I would presume that every Library is under observation and that anyone resembling a mage that visits any Library is being taken out by the Witchfinders."

"Tell us all you know of the Witchfinders," Will orders. "Names, numbers, powers."

"I haven't had much need to go out of North-East Bohemia recently," Sylva responds. "As a result, I don't really know much regarding the Witchfinders out of this region. My information is also likely to be inaccurate, as I have only ever dealt with the Witchfinder Generals in each of the cities."

"From memory, I seem to remember that Dvur has around five Witchfinders. Hradetz and Pardubitze have slightly more, perhaps seven or eight in each city."

She then goes on to give out a few names, which correlate to some of the names that the party have heard in the past.

"As for their powers, few within the entire Witchfinder organization can compare to a Master Mage. In fact, I would probably say that only the Witchfinder Generals and their deputies are able to compare with your witch. However, their power comes from their numbers, as they were able to demonstrate from the trap that they set for you at the Library of Kitry the night before last."

Bennett shakes his head:

"Worse and worse!"

"He knows that the Blue Dragons have provided you with assistance in the past," Sylva continues, "but that revolution is not their most important goal. He knows about the existence of the Twin Villages, but considered that a bunch of carrot-crunching yokels playing at soldiers is hardly a threat to the stability of a nation and so wasn't really worth putting our limited resources behind. Sadly, I wasn't able to get word to him concerning the WSM and their support in the Orlitze Valley, which is why I killed Lenyn in the hope that their resolve for terrorist activity would die with him."

Bennett, reminded of the reason he vowed to kill her in the first place, speaks out:

"And that's the reason you die. Following your beliefs, that is not sentenceable to death, but murder of an ally under pretense, that is the foul deed you will die for here today!"

Sylva does not bother to respond to Bennett, but pauses before finishing:

"So, as your witch will confirm, that's my story and all that I know."

"You may kill me now."

"Not yet," Will stands and walks forward until he stands over Sylva. "Tell me if you can truly speak without spilling forth lies."

"As I have said, before, your witch will easily be able to tell if I do not," Sylva replies in the same resigned tones that she has been using throughout the interrogation.

"Do you truly believe the Nyemetz rule this land rightfully?" Will asks.

"They took these lands in the same way that those who call themselves Bohavians today took them from the Celts over a millenium ago," Sylva replies.

"How can you vouch for any man's goodness who would serve in the Nyemetz government and oversee such atrocities as they commit daily?" Will continues.

"I think you're getting a little melodramatic now," Sylva says.

"She nae be lying," Faewen'il agrees, still holding the amulet.

"They are only performing what needs to be done in order to provide for Bohavia's safety and the country's economic well-being," Sylva continues. "If the Bohavian people could just accept the Nyemetz' legitimate rulership and stop their petty resistance, then there wouldn't be the need for some of the countermeasures that the Nyemetz are forced to respond with."

"I fear that any shred of decency or goodness latent in the heart of most souls must have been torn from yours at an early age when you were robbed of what you saw as a good man," Will continues. "Shame that you could not see the true deeds of your father. I have read of his deeds in the Nyemetz own accounts of history. I know."

"And you consider what you did at the Games to have been good and decent?" Sylva asks. "Is it really right to murder people without question simply for what their beliefs are, as you did at the Games?"

"Really, Will, we are really not so different from you in our methods. It is just that we are on opposing sides."

"I was a fool to be deceived by such a one as you," the bard finishes.

"No, that's not true," Sylva replies. "I am a professional in my field and so what happened is only to be as expected."

A look of sadness comes over the bard as he waves consent to Bennett and turns to brood in his drink once more.

Faewen'il stands up, looking down at the woman with a neutral look on her face:

"Do it, she be tellin all we need ta know."

Jihan, having been silent and pensive during the trip and the evenings proceedings, watches almost dispassionately the interrogation of Sylva. He watches as Will approaches her, noting the pain in his brother's eyes, and presses his lips tight, in anger or sadness, one cannot tell. As the spy makes her final request for release from this mortal coil, he stares into her eyes with a pain of his own.

"I saw your eyes when you held Karel's child..." he says simply, then turns his head away.

Bennett looks into Sylva's eyes, and a brief hint of what?, compassion?, sympathy? flashes, but then the familiar cold tint, which does not leave him, in gladness, drink, or even sleep, returns to his features:

"We all pay for our sins, no matter what their justification."

He then draws her body up, holding her by the shoulders, then quickly grabs her head and brings it crashing down backwards upon a table edge, snapping her neck. He then takes the bag that Glorin brought the weapons in and curls her body up inside it, throwing the bag over his shoulder. He then gets up and walks outside, not saying a word more.

As the deed is done, those observing Will closely notices his form wince in emotional pain and tears falling to the drink he holds. Gronk stands emotionless behind him.

Faewen'il then heads back up to her room, picking at the rents in her dress as she does so, a brooding look having replaced the one of neutrality while she was questioning the woman.

As Bennett comes out with his heavy burden, he sees Aneira and Bennett sat outside in the yard behind the inn. He has the look of a boy who is in way above his head. The look quickly passes, though, replaced by the familiar scowl that sits upon his brow so often. They both see a look of pain cross his face upon seeing them, but he mumbles:

"Didn't mean to disturb," and turns to head the other direction, adjusting the unwieldy sack and trudging, slowly, painfully, toward a nearby alley.

Aneira, watches Bennett, confused:

"Bennett." she says, "come and sit with us. What is wrong?"

She realizes suddenly what must be in the bag. At least it was over. She hopes Sylva's death was relatively quick. It would be easy to have been born onto the other side of the struggle and it was all luck how you ended up. Her attention wanders. She is watching the door to see if Bennett will return. She turns back to Xavier and listens to him talk.

After some time, Bennett returns, empty-handed, with a look of distinct sadness in his eyes:

"It's done."

He then sits down, some ways away from the other two:

"It's cold." He mumbles awkwardly, "I wonder if I'll ever get warm again."

He sits with his arms crossed tightly about his chest, not shivering, but looking down at the ground. The pain and confusion exudes from his body like an aura of chaos. After an interminably long time, he rises:

"Got to leave. I don't want to be here any more."

He walks unsteadily back into the inn.

Aneira sighs:

"He shouldn't walk alone. He looks to be in bad shape. And we need to get out of here tonight."

She stands and follows Bennett