Of course, Warden, Lyriel said, nodding. We wouldn't have bothered you if it wasn't of the utmost importance.

Just what are you playing at, Carn?

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 147):

The clerk shrugs, walks over to the room's only door, and opens it to admit a pair of interesting figures. The first is a spindly, elderly man with silver hair and a steel gaze, while the second is a stumpy dwarf chomping on a cigar.

Neither are in uniform, but both wear a Warden's badge pinned to their mismatched jackets.

"I'm Juarez, and this is my partner, Sanchez," the dwarf says, flinging the door shut as he saunters into the room. His older companion says nothing at all, but leans against the wall behind the chair in which the dwarf sits. The clerk you were speaking to earlier is nowhere to be seen.

"I'm a busy man, with places to be and things to do. Threats to assess and guard against. You know, Wardening."

He inhales deeply from his cigar and blows out an unshaped blob of smoke.

"So you have 5 minutes to convince me you're not wasting my time. Go."

"Of course," Carn replies, his tone easy and his posture relaxed. "My associate and I have reason to believe that the Empire -- or agents purporting to represent it -- have spirited away the good Lord Tolliver Vesper and his daughter, Alanna. Given that Lord Vesper is the Highborn ambassador to Tris and understanding the current regional tensions at play, it seemed like the sort of thing you'd want to know about."

"Mmmph," the dwarf grunts, savoring another pull from his cigar before responding further. "And who's to say we don't?"

"That would set a dangerous precedent," Carn retorts silkily and somehow without judgement. "Or is the Empress now in the business of arresting the diplomats and dignitaries of vassal states, along with their families?"

"I didn't say that," the dwarf responds. "Let's talk evidence. What makes you think Lord Vesper didn't take his daughter and get the Hells outta town? It's what I'd have done, with Haedriel in full rebellion and all. Not a good time to be an ambassador."

Carn and the dwarf trade verbal barbs here and there, with Carn outlining the crime scene and the dwarf asking pointed questions about various aspects of it. Throughout it all, Lyriel can't help but notice that the silent man standing behind the dwarf is looking directly at her, and seems to be paying attention to nothing else.

"... and that's why, if you suspect Imperial activity, it's best to just leave things be," the dwarf was explaining when Lyriel tuned back into the conversation. "Unless you've got proof of fabricated licenses or badges, you know what I'm saying? I appreciate your citizenly concern, I really do. We won't press charges for wasting our time, but this belongs in a missing persons report file. What do you think, Sanchez?"

"I think it was damn decent of them to come in," the thin man says quietly. "But a missing persons report would be more appropriate here."

***

They filed the missing persons report and the burglary report with the clerk on their way out, and in short order were seated on a park bench not far from the Warden's complex, watching the pigeons beg various passers-by for scraps of bread.

"It wasn't the Empire," Carnaue said at last. "At least, not officially. That's what I wanted to find out."

He cracked his knuckles idly and glanced at Lyriel.

"But did you notice how Sanchez never took his eyes off you?"

The cleric nodded.

"He recognized you, and he wasn't surprised to hear our story. So we're going to follow him home tonight and see what else he knows. Could get ugly, but hey... that's life."

***

Sanchez left the complex alone not long before sunset. They carefully followed him down various streets until they ended up in a neighborhood that Lyriel was surprised to learn she recognized. Silently struggling to control her anger, she watched as the man came to a stop before one of the most elaborate gated estates in Tris: the in-city seat of House Mason, into which the man was admitted without delay.

Of course it comes back to House Mason, Lyriel hissed under her breath with barely-suppressed rage. Flames began to crackle once again along her hands and arms, and it was only after a sharp glance from Carn and a good ten seconds of ragged breathing that she was able to get herself under control. Fortunately, hidden as they were, nobody seemed to notice.

Blasted Order and their meddling. As if they have any right to restrict or monitor the power of the Goddess. If it wouldn't draw the immediate attention of every mage and hedge-wizard in the city, I'd tear this house apart brick by brick.

She took a deep breath, exhaling through her nose. For now, we do this your way, and keep my magic as a last resort. At least until we know more about their spells and wards, and how long it will take the Order dogs to come running.

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 149):

Carnaue observers the estate for several minutes, obviously lost in thought.

"You might like my way this time," he says at last. "It's refreshingly direct."

He motions toward the estate's front door and smiles.

"The Masons are friends of the family, yes? You've just arrived from out of town, and have found your family's home here to have been ransacked. They don't know that we know they're aware of our encounter with the Wardens today."

Carnaue smiles slightly.

"So, do what a family friend would do. Walk up to the front door. Knock. Ask for a place to stay, since your place isn't safe. See if they have word of your father or sister. Don't believe a word they say, of course, but look sincere."

He glances at the estate again, eyeing one of the higher windows with a calculating look.

"Between juggling the Warden and you... and keeping both of you from knowing the other is there... I should think they'll be distracted enough to allow a less welcome guest to take an approach that would normally be risky."

"If you don't like the plan, you can also stay here. But I am trying to make the best of your demand to accompany me... and besides, you might learn something from what they tell you. Or from what they omit."

Lyriel nodded in agreement. Yes, it's time to get to the bottom of this.

The priestess adjusted the glamour of her dress once more, altering her appearance to one more in keeping with her station. A fashionably refined but durable forest-green riding dress sprung up around her, covered partially by a light amethyst-trimmed capelet. She took a deep breath.

"Don't worry, if things go south, you're my client. I've got your back," Carn said from the shadow of an alleyway.

I'm never worried. So does the Goddess. Lyriel narrowed her eyes. And if they have the audacity to silence me, they'll find I'm a much more formidable opponent than a crippled old diplomat and an eighteen year old debutante.

Throwing her shoulders back, she stepped briskly to the Mason Estate, pulling on the bellcord. A scant few heartbeats later, the door was answered by the Mason's butler, Benson. His surprise was betrayed only by an almost imperceptible raising of his eyebrows, but as always, he was impeccibly polite.

"Priestess Vesper, a pleasant surprise. Please do come in. Shall I inform the household of your arrival immediately, or would you care first for refreshment?" the butler asked affably, beckoning her inward with a perfect bow.

Thank you Benson, but if you would, inform the Lord Mason straight away. I have concerning news, she replied evenly.

Thanks to Bill and Derek, the Masons likely knew that Lyriel was no damsel in distress, and any attempt to play that part would likely be seen as the ruse it was. Instead, Lyriel decided to opt for the most believably course of action when it came time.

Righteous indignation.

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 151):

"I'm terribly sorry, Priestess, but I'm afraid the good Lord Mason is occupied with a rather urgent caller at the present," the butler says, his posture, tone, and demeanor betraying nothing. "Would you prefer to await him in the parlor or in your usual suite upstairs? I am absolutely certain he will see you at his earliest convenience, and until then, know that I am at your disposal."

Lyriel thought for a moment. The suite, if you please. I'm afraid I must impose upon your hospitality. I will eagerly await the Lord Mason at his earliest convenience. As I mentioned, the news is both urgent and dire.

The priestess was well familiar with the Mason's guest suite. The luxuriously appointed rooms were more private than the parlour. And more importantly, had only one entrance.

She followed Benson to the chambers, where he left her with light refreshments. After surreptitiously scouting the suite to ensure that she was, in fact, alone, she settled down into the overstuffed armchair facing the door. She poured herself a glass of the deep-red wine brought by Benson, and waited.

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 153):

Lyriel was well into her third cup of wine by the time Benson returned, his posture the image of poise and grace.

"If you would be so kind," he demurs, "the good Lord Mason has requested your presence in his study."

Lyriel rises to follow, and the butler leads her carefully up the steep, meticulously clean stairway.

"Lord Mason would want you to know that he meant to greet you in person, but his knees aren't what they used to be," Benson intones stiffly. "Age is a tireless devil that can only be held at bay for so long, he says."

The pair make their way across the next hallway and come to rest before a large wooden door with an ornate knob of brass. Benson inserts a key into the lock, turns it, raps on the door thrice, and opens the door without stepping inside himself.

"Priestess Vesper to see you, sir," he says, motioning for the cleric to enter the room.

"Ah, Lyriel," a strong voice cracked by age responds. "Please, do come in."

The cleric obliges, and Benson shuts the door behind her before returning to his duties elsewhere.

The room is unchanged from Lyriel's memory: a fireplace with two chairs on one side, a wide window on the other, overlooking the estate. Several bookshelves line the walls, and an enormous desk dominates the portion of the room before the window itself. Piles of paper -- all neatly stacked and organized -- rest upon the desk, mostly ledgers of expenditures and profits.

Standing behind the desk is Lord Mason himself, an elderly gentleman with brown eyes, graceful wrinkles, and silver hair growing around his temples, encircling his otherwise bald head like a crown. He is dressed in formal attire and leans lightly upon his cane, the head of which is emblazoned with the House Mason seal.

"So good to see you," he smiles sadly. "I'm sure you haven't received the warm welcome from Tris that you deserve, given the local troubles, but despite these hard times, I hope you know you still have a friend in House Mason."
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:20, Thu 27 Aug 2015.

Lyriel's heart began to hammer as she stood face to face with the man who, ultimately, was responsible for her brother's death. Her fingers twitched at her side. How easy it would be to reach out her hand and incinerate the good Lord Mason...to bring this sorry tale to a conclusion.

But it wouldn't be enough. House Mason had stood by her family for generations. It wasn't enough to simply punish the evildoer. She had to know why Eldric had been sacrificed.

She was jolted back to the moment by the look of sudden concern on Lord Mason's face. Anger colored her face and quickened her pulse, and she knew that hiding her wrath would be impossible. She was not Zuriel, to bottle up her emotions inside to conceal from the outside world. If the ruse was to continue, she would need to sell it as she was.

At last she forced herself to nod curtly in acknowledgement of his welcome. Somebody has broken into my family's estate in Tris, she said, voice quavering in anger. They attacked Father and Alana, and now they are missing.

Lyriel withdrew her father's blood-stained sword and plunked it down on Lord Mason's desk with a heavy thunk.

If ever House Vesper needed the aid of your family, it would be this hour.

The priestess continued to shake, praying fervently to the Goddess that Lord Mason would attribute it to her distress, and not an accusation.

Not yet.

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 155):

"Oh, no," Lord Mason says, drawing back from the bloody blade with an aghast expression on his face. "That's terrible news! Sit down, sit down, you poor girl."

He motions to one of the chairs by the fireplace, and slowly walks around the desk toward her, offering his arm to help support her toward it.

"Have you alerted the Wardens? They're really the best people to contact regarding missing persons, home intrusion, and burglary. I can summon them, if you'd like, but first we must see to your health. Benson?!"

He claps twice, and the door swings open to reveal the butler standing at the ready.

"Yes, my lord?"

"Benson, please fetch some chilled icewine and mineral water. A pitcher of each, with several glasses."

"Yes, lord."

Benson silently departs, and the door swings shut behind him.

"You are welcome to stay here, my dear, while you are in Tris," Lord Mason continues, staring into the oddly cold flames in the fireplace. "I just saw your father the other day, though I haven't seen young Alanna for weeks. Perhaps they have taken an impromptu journey into the countryside or something to escape the bustle of Tris. An ill-timed journey, given the break-in, but I've learned not to panic about these things too quickly."

When Benson returns a moment later with the offered refreshments, he does not come alone. Two men Lyriel had hoped to have left far behind sweep into the study with him. The slighter of the two carries twin blades at his hips, while the larger man is completely unarmed, and neither are armored.

"I'm sure you recall my grandson, Sir William Mason, and his stoic, barrel-chested companion, Derrick Redsmith," Lord Mason says, motioning for Benson to shut and lock the door behind him.

Derrick folds his arms and leans with his back against the door, while Sir William sweeps over to the remaining chair, kissing Lyriel's hand in the process.

"So good to see you again," Sir William says as he adjusts his swords and plops into the second chair. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

His smile dies when he notices the priestess's disposition. Despite her facade, it is clear that something's bothering her. He turns to Lord Mason in confusion.

"What's going on?"

"An unfortunate coincidence, we hope," Lord Mason replies, leaning against the desk with his back to the large window. The sun is just beginning to slip beneath the horizon, painting a picture of rosy pinks and oranges across the cityscape behind him. "Priestess Vesper has just arrived from out of town, only to discover that her father's home has been ransacked and its occupants missing."

Lord Mason motions to the sword laying upon his desk.

"Awful," Sir William says, though his tone suggests boredom or perhaps amusement at the notion. "And the Wardens have no leads?"

"We haven't asked. When's the last time you saw Lord Vesper or young Alanna?"

Sir William frowns and furrows his brow.

"A few days ago, in the gardens," he says at last. "They were arguing about something, so I excused myself after a cursory hello and continued on my way."

Lord Mason nods, then turns to Lyriel.

"Was anything missing from the house, dear? They seem to have left a valuable sword behind. Perhaps there is more to the burglary than it seems."
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:14, Tue 01 Sept 2015.

Lyriel shook her head sharply. It was no simple burglary. The place was ransacked, yes, but none of the valuables are missing. At least, nothing of obvious interest to a thief.

She pursed her lips. Lord Mason was lying, of course. He obviously knew of the break in before her appearance- from the Warden informant, if not from his own involvement. He knew not just of the break-in, but also of that Lyriel had already been to see the Wardens.

The priestess gazed at Lord Mason, his face drawn in compassionate concern. He's a marvelous actor, I'll give him that...I could never match such effortless deception. She needed to keep him talking. Each lie that passed his lips painted a picture as to what he was trying to hide. And he couldn't think that she was being anything less than completely forthcoming with him.

As far as I could tell, a few things were missing, she admitted, but it was things like books and other random objects. Nothing that made sense.

She blew out sigh of genuine frustration. I told as much to the Wardens, but they said there was nothing they could do. Directed me to fill out a missing person report with barely so much as a 'good day.' She looked down, noticing that she was clenching her wine glass so tightly that her knuckles were white. With effort she forced herself to relax her hand before the glass shattered.

It was no burglary. It was an attack. And the Wardens simply can't be bothered to care.
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:36, Thu 03 Sept 2015.

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 157):

"The Wardens have a lot on their plate these days," Lord Mason says soothingly. "But I agree, their lack of concern for the well-being of such an important government official's self, family, and property is alarming. And unacceptable."

He purses his lips for a moment.

"I have some friends among the Wardens," Lord Mason continues. "They will hear of this, I assure you. We shall have the investigation and, ultimately, the justice that this situation calls for, my dear. You have my word."

Lord Mason puts his fingers to his temples wearily.

"William, if you would be so kind as to -"

An enormous, unmistakable CRASH at the doorway interrupts him, and the world seems to turn in slow motion as everyone in the room turns toward the unmistakable sound of swordplay.

Derrick, who had been leaning against the door, raises an eyebrow and glances at Sir William and Lord Mason in turn. The former shrugs, the latter nods, and the bear of a man exits the room.

"It's not the way I would have preferred we do it," William says, rising to his feet and loosening the blades worn on either hip. "But it's possible we've solved your mystery, Priestess."

Lord Mason's dark expression stands at odds with the whiteness in his hand, which is gripped so tightly around his cane that it almost seems to have become a part of it.

"I will not be held hostage in my own manor," the patriarch says simply. "Especially not through fear. Let's see what all the fuss is about."

He turns to Lyriel.

"Don't worry, my dear. We'll have this sorted shortly."

With that, Sir William and Lord Mason head for the door.

Lyriel grabbed her father's sword from Lord Mason's desk, and stormed out to follow the three men. I'm far from helpless myself.

Magic or no.

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 159):

The sound of steel on steel grows louder as the group hurries upstairs, following the noise to the observatory -- the topmost floor of the manor, which consists of a single large room ringed by reinforced glass windows on all sides and on the roof.

The door stands partially ajar, and there's no shortage of shouting.

"Stand down, you cur! I'll see you irons!" an older voice demands, loud and full of authority.

"And that line of reasoning tends to work for you, does it?"

This second voice belongs to Carnaue, and soon the clanging of metal ends with a sickening squelching sound -- accompanied by a gurgling scream.

This is the point at which William kicks open the door and rushes in, swords drawn. Lord Mason and Lyriel follow closely behind, but all three arrive just in time to watch a series of events that is already in motion by the time they arrive.

The room is large and ringed with windows, with various pieces of furniture, artwork, and shrubbery scattered here and there. A powerful telescope dominates one side of the room, but for once it is the least interesting thing to be seen.

Carnaue stands near the eastern wall of windows, the elderly warden from before standing within arm's length. The warden's back is to the door, and the Felar's wicked-looking blade is currently plunged so deeply into the warden's stomach that the tip is protruding through the gap between the spinal cord and the left kidney. Derrick, who must have arrived scant moments before you did, stands not far from the doorway, his eyes wide.

The following events occurs simultaneously the moment you grace the scene:

1) Derrick, lacking a weapon, lowers his shoulder and barrels toward Carnaue, bellowing all the while.

2) Carnaue places a foot upon the Warden's chest and uses the leverage to execute a back-flip that simultaneously withdraws the sword from its fleshy sheath and catapults him toward the window behind him.

3) Derreck slams into the Warden, carrying both the older man and himself into -- and through -- the reinforced glass. The pair plummets out of your line of sight.

4) Carnaue's backflip completes its trajectory, carrying the Felar through the now-empty window pane.

"Derrick!" Sir William exclaims, charging toward the window.

Lord Mason looks too stunned to act.

Beset by a curious calm in the midst of the carnage, Lyriel's form shimmered and split as she was swept into the winds. Floating out the window, she followed the trajectory of the warden and Derrick.

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 161):

Lyriel slips out of the window, floating past Sir William, who stands gripping the sill from the inside and peering over it to the expansive garden below. Her vantage point shows Derrick lying flat on his back, limbs splayed spread-eagle. The Warden has just finished picking himself up, and dashes deeper into the garden (away from the manor) while yelling something. Carnaue is nowhere to be seen.

Lyriel's eyes track the fleeing figure of the Warden in disbelief. He took a blade to the gut, a fall from five stories, and took off running...

The Warden she'd leave to Carnaue. There were more direct ways to get what she needed. Lyriel floated down to the crumpled form of Derrick. As she dismissed the spell and materialized, she bent down to check his pulse.

She craned her neck back upwards to look at the young William Mason, framed in the shattered window.

You'd better get down here quickly, she called up gravely.

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 163):

William nods and disappears from the window. Less than a minute later, he arrives at Lyriel's side.

"Derrick, you... you idiot! When I said you had a thick head, that's not... it's not an invitation to..."

He shakes his head sadly at the large man's prone form.

"How bad is it?" William says, glancing at Lyriel. "Is he... I mean, can you..."

William looks at a fixed point in the distance and closes his eyes for a moment to regain his failing compsure before turning to face Lyriel.

"Can you help him?"

The tone is certainly a question, but part of it is pleading, too.

"There... must be something we can do?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:24, Tue 15 Sept 2015.

He's broken several bones. Arm, leg, and at least one rib. If his spine isn't damaged, he might even be able to walk again, Lyriel said with an air clinical detachment and breezy indifference. Of course, his mind might be addled beyond aid. Either way, a fall from such a height...without the immediate aid of the Goddess he'll never be the same again.

Lyriel stood, dusting off her robes as William's face turned from pleading to stunned disbelief. I could heal him, of course. But I'm having a hard time coming up with a reason why I should.

The priestess' eyes hardened to emerald chips of stone. If you want Derrick to ever truly recover, then tell me, 'Sir' William Mason.

Where. Is. My. Family?
This message was last edited by the player at 19:48, Tue 15 Sept 2015.

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 165):

William blinks sadly as Lyriel describes the various ailments that might have befallen his companion before recoiling at her final statement.

"Your family? Haedriel, I thought. Unless you're asking... but why... I don't understand."

He glances up toward the manor, and then back at Derrick's limp form.

"A friend and ally lies there, dying, and you're using these precious moments to... to accuse me of having something to do with whoever ransacked Lord Vesper's estate?!"

Sir William clenches his left hand into a fist and uses his right hand to whip one of his twin swords from his side, leveling it at Lyriel's throat from a five-foot step away.

"I will tell you what you want to know, priestess," he says, whipping his blade away to point at Derrick's body. "Heal him, and I'm yours to command. I will search every tavern, travel the world, to find the information you're looking for."

He narrows his eyes slightly.

"You had the willing cooperation of a friend before. Now, you will have the devotion of a debtor. Just help him, for pity's sake. HELP HIM."
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:38, Wed 16 Sept 2015.

Lyriel stared down Sir William, undaunted by the bare steel he held.

Don't patronize me 'Sir', Lyriel spat through clenched teeth. Lives are on the line, so let there be honesty between us.

The priestess waved behind her in the direction of the Warden's flight. That particular officer of the law was the one who took my report at the guardhouse. Brusque and dismissive he was, but I could tell he was hiding something. Imagine my surprise when following him led me directly here. Yet you claim you know nothing. Lyriel's cold tone clarified exactly how unsurprised she was. Shimmers of fire began to flicker once again around her. Your grandfather already took Eldric from me. I will not let your family claim another I love! she hissed in a voice as low and dangerous as the faint roaring of an approaching inferno.

So I ask you one last time, Sir William of House Mason. Where are my Father and sister?
This message was last edited by the player at 15:42, Thu 17 Sept 2015.

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 167):

Sir William spends long, agonizing seconds waging an internal battle of some sort, and sags a little as the eventual victory deflates his posture. He sheathes his weapons and opens his mouth to speak.

"That is a galling accusation, Miss Vesper."

The voice was not Bill's, but Lord Mason's. Bill whirls around to see his grandfather emerging from the manor's front door. Benson followed at his side, carrying a silver dish on which rested what appeared to be a refreshing tonic and a wooden stirring implement.

"Stand down, Will," Lord Mason continued, his voice dangerous and flat. "Before you say something you'll regret."

Bill glanced at Lyriel for a moment, then obeyed, taking a few steps backward to crouch defensively at Derrick's side.

"Grandfather, she thinks we had something to do with Eldric. That's the stupidest... we would NEVER have been involved with something like that! And to now refuse to heal Derrick because of it?"

Lord Mason glances at his grandson impassively, then turns to Lyriel.

"Oh, I wager she will. I can appreciate the need to assert yourself, my dear, but you've planted your flag in foreign soil," Lord Mason says, taking the drink from the tray and stirring it gently with the accompanying stick.

"Thing is, you're making an awful scene. And we have appearances to maintain."

He takes a measured sip from the cup.

"So here's what's going to happen, Miss Vesper. You are going to heal Derrick -- and do the job well enough that he can perform the Luger Waltz with his eyes closed. You are going to quell those formidable emerald flames and bottle them again afterward. And then you are going to follow me back into the manor, where we can discuss these matters with more civility than schoolyard bullies armed with truncheons."

Lord Mason raises his bushy white eyebrows.

"Mind you, if you should fail to do any of these things, in the order in which they have been prescribed," Lord Mason says, glancing into his cup as he swirls its contents with infuriating ease. "Then, my dear, I fear it is quite possible that you would awaken an only child tomorrow morning."

"How devastating would that be for you, I wonder? And for your poor mother? Tch, tch. I can only imagine."

Lord Mason replaces the drink on the tray and motions toward Derrick.

"I'm done threatening the innocent and the defenseless if you are, Miss Vesper. Shall we get on with it? That's a good girl."
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:20, Mon 21 Sept 2015.

Lyriel's eyes narrowed, and for once, her face blanked of any and all visible emotion. The fires wreathing her vanished in the blink of an eye with no guttering or fading. The flames simply were, and then they were not.

In place of all the priestess' burning rage was a sudden, deadly calm.

So be it.

Kneeling curtly by Derrick's side, she extended tendrils of emerald energy, probing the extent of his injuries. A broken rib, a collapsed lung, dislocated shoulder, pooling of blood in the brain - the searing energy of the Goddess began to burn away all defects in a rush of flame. Derrick came to in a gasp of pain as the magics began to take effect on his shattered body.

Lyriel rose, leaving Will to tend his fallen companion.

Mason.

The patriarch of the house, who had begun to turn back inside with a bemused smirk, was brought up short. There was no rage, no bluster in her words that followed. Merely a promise, spoken in the cold, clinical tone of one stating objective fact.

If you've harmed them in any way, I will personally drag you to the Hells, and cast you body and soul into the Abyss.

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 169):

Lord Mason says nothing, instead returning to his study with Lyriel nearby. William remains outside with Derrick for the time being, and Benson returns to whatever tasks await him.

Once back in the study, Lord Mason shuts the door and returns to his desk. He breathes deeply, holds it in, then exhales quietly in a long whoosh of air.

"Have you seen it?"

The is a pause, during which Lord Mason cocks his head to one side.

"The Abyss, I mean. Have you been there?"

I have. It is not a place one forgets, nor one I would care to revisit. But for you, Lord Mason, I would make an exception.

Her fingers tingled, picking up the hint of latent magic in the air. She guessed that whatever Benson had mixed for his master, it wasn't merely a refreshing beverage. But it was irrelevant now.

She locked her gaze with the aging patrician.

Why?