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"You are to avoid all contact with Xanadu Mol. If your 'honor' dictates that you disobey me, Ser Heuloix, you will be seen as her accomplice and treated as such. We are done discussing this matter."
Inquisitor Helene La Floret's calmly stated order echoed in Martiallais' mind as he groaned, slowly moving about as the first shards of light began to brighten the office. With his gaze drawn to the familiar bell adorning the Dufresne house sigil, the knight's eyes turned downward as he let out a slow breath. Shifting carefully on the oversized couch, he eased from beneath the familiar arm, brushing some crimson hair from her face as he sat up.
With bandages around both arms and despite the protest of his body, he rose to his feet and stretched gingerly. He was all too grateful for potions and a gentle, healing touch but he knew well that he needed to settle and focus his thoughts...if such a thing were possible now, since a full measure rest certainly did not seem to be.Â
"The appearance of Inquisitor Friont provided answers and even more questions. Since the beginning, we have been in pursuit of shadows and phantoms."
Qarn. Nym. Amdapor. Each instance there had been proof that someone had been steps ahead of their goal. Missing tomes, evidence of spellwork, the corpse of a wyvern infused with a creature of the void....even void beings themselves all awaited in the place of their quarry.
"And yet he was certainly alive and well, despite Inquisitor La Floret's claims that death had claimed him weeks prior. Even Ser Halgren stated to have been in attendance for the man's cremation."
A frown settled on his features as he thought of the dragoon. While they'd only met, in brief, previously, Martiallais knew little of the hyur. Rumors of reputation were not something he oft gave weight to but his single minded focus on fighting, even alone, had nearly been the end of him. It reminded him of V'aleera, in a way that was unflattering to neither, unfortunately.
"Still, he was certainly skilled. Friont's skills were not....overstated to say the least."
Briefly, the image of fiery rocks raining down above the group flashed in his mind. That they'd managed to survive was in itself something of a miracle. They had been informed that he was a quite skilled mage, among other things. Turning slowly at the waist, he let out a soft breath.
"That Friont has...accomplished a measure of his clearly heretical goals is true. The...infused dragon was evidence to that. With it most certainly under his control, it will surely need to be dealt with. Mayhaps loosing both Sers Halgren and Lhuil's spears upon it would be for the best. With a dragoon of his own aiding him, the question of how far and wide Friont's aid runs is...unavoidable. Are La Floret and her fellow inquisitors part of his deception or victims? More questions, fewer answers. And even now, we remain trapped within this web doing the bidding of one inquisitor while tempting the ire of another. Xanadu Mol was correct, validated even but her actions likewise confirmed La Floret's impression of her. Attempting to kill an innocent in order to prevent a potential larger threat from taking form..."
Low, sleep filled mumblings from the couch brought Martiallais from his thoughts, turning his attention Eliane. His features softened before turning sad.
"Mayhaps I should depart. Bringing the inquisition's eye upon myself is one matter but upon those whom I consider family and friends, such would be unforgivable."
A flash of emerald reflected from atop the desk caught his eye and after another moment, he padded over to seek out the source, amused by the piles of papers, partly configured items, and the occasional frilly, feathered quill existing together in some sort of chaotic harmony. Leaning over, he found himself peering at a small, crystalline shard attached to a necklace.
"How unfortunate then, Ser Mar, that so many care so much for one who cares naught for himself."
As usual, Evangeline had a way with her words when she truly meant to. Gently lifting the Nymean crystal, he found himself staring at his reflection, warped and distorted upon each of the varying surfaces. Despite his thoughts, the knight found himself wearing a smile at the irony of it all.
"Disobeying inquisitors, heeding heretics, even venturing to a cultist gathering for the Inquisition. Truly change has swept over myself as it does this land."
Lowering the necklace back to the desk, Martiallais shook his head, sweeping hair back over his shoulders as he made his way back to the couch. Easing himself onto the cushions carefully, he grunted as he found himself being used as an impromptu pillow.
"If this is the calm before the storm, I cannot help but wonder what the tempest itself will bring."
Inquisitor Helene La Floret's calmly stated order echoed in Martiallais' mind as he groaned, slowly moving about as the first shards of light began to brighten the office. With his gaze drawn to the familiar bell adorning the Dufresne house sigil, the knight's eyes turned downward as he let out a slow breath. Shifting carefully on the oversized couch, he eased from beneath the familiar arm, brushing some crimson hair from her face as he sat up.
With bandages around both arms and despite the protest of his body, he rose to his feet and stretched gingerly. He was all too grateful for potions and a gentle, healing touch but he knew well that he needed to settle and focus his thoughts...if such a thing were possible now, since a full measure rest certainly did not seem to be.Â
"The appearance of Inquisitor Friont provided answers and even more questions. Since the beginning, we have been in pursuit of shadows and phantoms."
Qarn. Nym. Amdapor. Each instance there had been proof that someone had been steps ahead of their goal. Missing tomes, evidence of spellwork, the corpse of a wyvern infused with a creature of the void....even void beings themselves all awaited in the place of their quarry.
"And yet he was certainly alive and well, despite Inquisitor La Floret's claims that death had claimed him weeks prior. Even Ser Halgren stated to have been in attendance for the man's cremation."
A frown settled on his features as he thought of the dragoon. While they'd only met, in brief, previously, Martiallais knew little of the hyur. Rumors of reputation were not something he oft gave weight to but his single minded focus on fighting, even alone, had nearly been the end of him. It reminded him of V'aleera, in a way that was unflattering to neither, unfortunately.
"Still, he was certainly skilled. Friont's skills were not....overstated to say the least."
Briefly, the image of fiery rocks raining down above the group flashed in his mind. That they'd managed to survive was in itself something of a miracle. They had been informed that he was a quite skilled mage, among other things. Turning slowly at the waist, he let out a soft breath.
"That Friont has...accomplished a measure of his clearly heretical goals is true. The...infused dragon was evidence to that. With it most certainly under his control, it will surely need to be dealt with. Mayhaps loosing both Sers Halgren and Lhuil's spears upon it would be for the best. With a dragoon of his own aiding him, the question of how far and wide Friont's aid runs is...unavoidable. Are La Floret and her fellow inquisitors part of his deception or victims? More questions, fewer answers. And even now, we remain trapped within this web doing the bidding of one inquisitor while tempting the ire of another. Xanadu Mol was correct, validated even but her actions likewise confirmed La Floret's impression of her. Attempting to kill an innocent in order to prevent a potential larger threat from taking form..."
Low, sleep filled mumblings from the couch brought Martiallais from his thoughts, turning his attention Eliane. His features softened before turning sad.
"Mayhaps I should depart. Bringing the inquisition's eye upon myself is one matter but upon those whom I consider family and friends, such would be unforgivable."
A flash of emerald reflected from atop the desk caught his eye and after another moment, he padded over to seek out the source, amused by the piles of papers, partly configured items, and the occasional frilly, feathered quill existing together in some sort of chaotic harmony. Leaning over, he found himself peering at a small, crystalline shard attached to a necklace.
"How unfortunate then, Ser Mar, that so many care so much for one who cares naught for himself."
As usual, Evangeline had a way with her words when she truly meant to. Gently lifting the Nymean crystal, he found himself staring at his reflection, warped and distorted upon each of the varying surfaces. Despite his thoughts, the knight found himself wearing a smile at the irony of it all.
"Disobeying inquisitors, heeding heretics, even venturing to a cultist gathering for the Inquisition. Truly change has swept over myself as it does this land."
Lowering the necklace back to the desk, Martiallais shook his head, sweeping hair back over his shoulders as he made his way back to the couch. Easing himself onto the cushions carefully, he grunted as he found himself being used as an impromptu pillow.
"If this is the calm before the storm, I cannot help but wonder what the tempest itself will bring."
Martiallais Heuloix - Duty. Honor. Faith.
Armand Tremaux - Justice, like lightning.
"We're all snowflakes in a great blizzard." - Virara 2017
Armand Tremaux - Justice, like lightning.
"We're all snowflakes in a great blizzard." - Virara 2017