Dia bit her lower lip at the problem Cael had voiced--one she, admittedly, hadn't yet thought of. Well, good on him then. He'd earned himself a few points in her book. She nodded, glancing over the street below, then shrugged.

"If we run over the rooftops, we'll probably just end up losing them and catching attention while we're at it. Don't know about you, but I'm going to drop and follow from a nice distance. Pay my respects from afar and all that," she finished, licking the tip of her front teeth before dropping to her knees and lowering herself from the roof and onto the window ledge just below. Climbing wasn't a talent or anything but she was fit and experienced enough at the least. She scaled the wall a bit, glancing up to see if he followed, before dropping down into the street and squeezing between two market stalls, eyes on the golden carriage.

Cael gave Dia a small smile and nodded. It was a good idea indeed. Problem was how to get there. Cael didn't have any problem going via the roofs but the terrain was unknown to him. They could always follow it but it could go fast and those guards should be mot likely avoided. He wasn't equipped nor trained for such battle. Heavy armor had the down side of slowing you down, be loud and keep you from doing fancy moves. He scratched his jaw as he thought about it.

"It's a good idea indeed. Seems to be a mighty important lad. You got any suggestions on how to do it?" he then asked and looked back at the woman, keeping eye contact with her. "Could always stick to the roof," he then added as he didn't want to look like an amateur.

Dervish smiled slightly at the way Dahlia seemed mother Adele so much, and the girl's reaction to the treatment. It was actually kind of adorable. He was shaken out of these thoughts however when he heard Dahlia's comment to him.

"Make no mistake by my words madam, I've got no intention of seeking out a fight with anyone. Much to much work involved in something like that," he said, nodding thanks at Adele's words before continuing. "As a fighter though I can't help but want to test my skills against strong opponents, but I would never risk this group for something so selfish as that."

Standing from the chair, Dervish made for the door that led to the sleeping quarters, content to finally getting a bit of sleep after the days work. "I'll see you ladies in the morning," he said, smiling at Adele's praise that was just loud enough for him to hear before slipping through the door and toward a comfortable bed.

Dia paused, her eyes on the carriage and her mind on this Cael fellow's words. Seemed he had a fair head on his shoulders, he would have to if he'd really been chosen for this job. Maybe she'd take it upon herself to make sure sometime, though...

She nodded, gesturing to the carriage. "What do you say we see where that carriage goes?" she asked, watching him for any signs of what kind of person he might be--her eyes on his hands, whether he seemed able to maintain eye contact, and how he held himself.

Adele was momentarily distracted by a vague sense of unease from outside the bath-house, to which she responded by lifting a drape just so and peeking out for a moment before looking back to her two allies. A few more of her agents were starting to filter in, tired faces that didn't give her much pause as they headed straight into the sleeping rooms. Still, her heart tinged with gratitude as they passed.

Eyeing Dahlia's basin with some suspicion--she had never really been one for baths, awkward as they were--Adele leaned away from the coaxing somewhat, an automatic and barely visible recoil from the sense that she was about to receive the same sort of overbearing mothering as she'd gotten back at the temple. Still, she made herself relax and forced a smile, taking her own cloak off instead and making gestures of appeasement.

It's fine, she mouthed widely, glancing towards Dervish. The last thing she wanted to do was get involved in their disagreement, but it could prove problematic if Dahlia bruised Dervish's ego and caused problems later down the row. Quietly as she leaned towards the older woman, but just loud enough for Dervish to hear, she assured Dahlia that she was sure Dervish had bought them precious time.

As the woman introduced herself Cael sat down. His stance went from defensive to relaxed with a small stiffness, ready for any danger. He looked over to the Dia and listened to her question. He twitched his lips into a small smile. "Name's Cael," he answered and glanced down onto the street below.

He quickly found the carriage she mentioned and watched as a woman walked up to it. It was however difficult to see what she did, both from the distance and the darkness. He nodded quickly and returned his eyes to the redheaded woman. "I almost run into them. Seems that Seboet has an internal conflict. I get the impression that whoever is in the carriage is either a noble or an important member of society. Thinking about what happened the later might be most correct," he replied to Dia.

Dahlia was soon reminded why she often held a certain level of annoyance with the members of the Flame uprising. Her eyes certainly did not overlook the open bottle nearby. The boorish rogue was fortunate that the bottle chosen was more vinegar than alcohol. If he wanted to use the inferior bottle as his price for the time bought, then she supposed that she would have to let it slide. After all, he had been rather helpful earlier, even if he did have a crude way of speaking about such a concerning issue.

Before she could answer his brusque comment, Adele returned to speak for herself.

That appearance made her cringe slightly, but to be fair they had been through quite a bit this evening. If a disheveled appearance and an emptied bottle of wine were the only sets back they had to deal with, then she supposed that she should be grateful. Besides, it was not like this was something that a bit of hot water and a heavy comb could not fix. Grabbing a rag and an empty basin, she set the two against her hip as she began to prepare to wash off that ruined disguise. As she made her way to Adele, Dervish spoke.

His input was less than agreeable. A scowl donned on her face as she turned to him.

“Why would you want to go seeking out a direct fight with such a force? The point of tonight was to be stealthy. Announcing your presence and demanding a duel will only earn you a quick visit to the gallows.” She chided as she attempted to coax Adele out of her now soiled cloak, “If anything we should be praying that we never have to see him or any other men in gold for a very long time.”

Nyaera watched as Adele retreated into the bathhouse around the corner. Very interesting indeed. It seemed this bathhouse was merely a front for the Flame's (she could only assume the rebel faction had risen again) base of operations. Sadly, she could go no further. Turning around, she started to back track her way back to the Oracle to make her report.

It seemed that Adele had taken on the head role of the rebels. That was more of a shock than anything. That frail child had become the leader of the rebels that was trying to cause chaos in their (somewhat) peaceful city. At the very least, no one would ever suspect a thing, it's not like Adele's appearance screamed 'Rebel leader!' However, it would only be a matter of time before the rebels were all caught and snuffed out again like the last time. Most of them would surely be executed. . .but Adele? She unconsciously shook her head, not wanting to picture the dead and limp body of the child. Well, she couldn't be much of a child now despite her looks. She had matured enough to decide to take on her current responsibility on her own and surely knew the risks involved. If anything happened to her, it was her own fault. Nyaera told herself this, rationalizing so as to make the time when the rebels were caught easier to handle.

It took her a bit longer to find her way back. She wasn't around this area often so had to pause at a couple turns to get her bearings straight but finally made it back to the marketplace. The area wasn't nearly as crowded as it had been. The people returned to their homes after things had calmed down and the initial shock of the rain had faded, although she doubted that shock would ever disappear completely. She craned her neck to see past a group of bunched civilians and spotted Dair dutifully at the side of the Oracle. She hurried over to give him her report.

"Oracle." She addressed him formally. "I managed to follow the suspects and they led me to what appeared to be their base. It's a bathhouse to the south of here." She waved her hand in the direction she had come from. She wanted all this be wrapped up. She wanted her life to go back to being normal. She wanted a lot of things, but sadly, people hardly ever got what they wanted.

Draining the glass again, Dervish listened to Adele's recount of the day's mission. He couldn't help but think of it as a failure, but he wasn't going to say anything to their leader about it. Not when he was still a bit of an outcast in the little group. When she asked him for a report he stood and gave her a quick bow, returning the formality she had shown him.

"I didn't see anything of note," he said with a wave of his hand. "Though I would like to face that knight in open combat some time." This statement was more to himself than the others.

Dropping back down into the chair, he refilled the glass and to a drink before again addressing the two ladies. "For now why don't we just relax and wait for the others to return." Now that they were back in relative safety Dervish was back to his old lazy self.

Fishlike, the Seeress slipped through the flow of the crowded streets and into the hidden back door of Dahlia's bath-house. She entered with a sigh, tugging her wig from her head and setting it aside when the door behind her had been closed, bolted, and checked twice. A few of her agents were resting here--Dervish and Dahlia to be precise. Though Adele imagined the priestess wouldn't take kindly to being thought of as 'her agent', the distinction made little difference to the equally little Seeress. She realized she must have made for a poor appearance, hair all askew and likely some of her covering make-up smudged or running from the rain and sweat. A fine figurehead she made, indeed.

"I assume you both made it out of that little mess okay," Dervish was inquiring, already taking advantage of Dahlia's stores.

Adele stepped out of the shadow of the door's frame and sighed, hand still lingering on the wig. She'd taken to automatically reaching for it when worried, a thing of safety for the wanted, very oddly-looking young woman. Stroking it, she pulled through a few words for the two before her.

"I live. We failed in getting information, but disrupted a holy day," she said, ever so quietly. A mere whisper she'd forced to a higher volume, still rough with the lingering quiet. "Dervish. Report?" The last of her words took on a tone less soft than she usually used, as she regarded him more formally.

The northern woman smiled thinly, her stance relaxing noticeably with the stranger's answer. No need for her to continue to hide herself entirely, then. "Dia," she answered in turn. The last name wasn't important, really, but she didn't feel comfortable handing it over so soon. Her green eyes flicked between Cael and the rapidly calming scene below. He was sitting down, his own name as of yet unrevealed. Time to rectify that, then. "And yours?"

She slipped a tooth-pick out from some mysterious hidden place and wedged it between her front, bottom teeth, regarding the scene below. "I get the impression a few of our mutual friend's rivals are taking their leave. But I think she'd be mighty interested in that boy in the carriage. Don't you?"

Dervish looked up from the half empty bottle of wine he had opened when he heard the door open. The backroom was always full of it and he figure it wouldn't hurt if he drank one of the cheaper bottles. Looking over at Dahlia he smiled slightly at her, pouring a glass of wine for her and for Adele as he refilled his own. He set them on the table beside another chair for her before answering.

"No, I decided to lead the large brightly armored guard to our door," he said with a slight laugh. "Of course he didn't follow me." He knew most of the Flame distrusted him for his beliefs but it didn't stop him from always trying to lighten the mood.

"I assume you both made it out of that little mess ok," he said, taking a drink of the wine and peering past Dahlia, wondering where their young leader was.

Opening up the bathhouse she glanced around praying that she did not run into any guard. Luckily, there did not seem to be anybody around in the front. With haste, she sped through the tiled hall to the back room slamming the door shut. There was a bit of assurance that set in once she had that separation set between her and the rest of the world. Finally taking a minute to breathe, she pulled a loose hair back and straightened her outfit before turning towards her only current company. Dervish.

He was not the first person that she was hoping to see here, but it was nice to see a familiar face.

“What happened with that guard?” she asked. “I hope you did not let him follow you.”

Understanding the importance of keeping stealthy Dahlia made no objections in separating. With a meaningful glance she watched as the petite leader fled. Once she could no longer see the girl, Dahlia hurried off in the other direction. Experience was in her favor as she followed down the all to familiar back streets of the slums. Passing by the local landmarks, she made her way to one of the few bars the temple allowed in the area. No hesitation could be seen as she entered in pausing only to glance around to find the owner, an aging man who had far too many secrets than his friendly face let on.

Throughout her years here, she had come to rely on the man just as much as he benefitted from her. When she had first arrived here, it had been him that kept her from making a total fool of herself. Now that she had the wisdom of life in this part of the city, she understood that his assistance had simply been a way to gain favor from a former member of the temple, because anybody with an ounce of influence with the priests is somebody worth keeping on your side.

Every now and then the two would exchange favors mutually befitting from the spoils the other had to offer. It was a civil trade.

“Miss Farah.” He lowered his head politely upon seeing her, “The usual for you today?” His hands were already reaching under the counter to fetch a bottle of her favorite wine.

“Not today, Gus, I’m in a bit of a hurry and just need to get back home as soon as possible. Mind if I cut through your fine establishment?”

“ ’course.” He waved her to the back. When she was close enough for him to notice the droplets of rain that had clung to her hair, she could see him raise a brow. Clearly there was a desire to question the reason for this. She was glad when he decided to keep all inquiries to himself as he led her to the back door.

“You have my thanks.” She placed her hand on his shoulder momentarily to express her gratitude, “Once everything settles down, I’ll be back for that wine.”

With that she hurried off until she found herself back at her lovely home.

Nyaera glanced back at Dair preparing to protest but was cut off by his order. He then ran off before she could voice her new objections. Great. At this point, the idea 'If you needed something done, do it yourself' was really hitting home. It seemed that held true for a lot of things she did. The Oracle needed to get better followers. Sighing she continued to follow as per Dair's order, squeezing herself through the crowd, following the girl she knew to be Adele. She hoped there wouldn't be any confrontation, she wouldn't know what to say to start. She had found that she was much better at handling men than small, fragile girls.

Nyaera couldn't stand being in a crowd in general, and it was ten times worse when said crowd was nervous and panicky and the smell of sweat hung in the air. It was close to making Nyaera sick to her stomach so needles to say she was greatly relieved when she saw Adele finally break away from the crowd and head in a more determined direction. Nyaera followed, making sure not to get too close and ducking behind walls and such so keep her presence as concealed as possible. It didn't take Nyaera long to recognize the area they were in, they were going south . . .but what could possibly be down here? That question was soon answered when Nyaera saw a bathhouse looming in the distance.

Well, well, well. . .what have we here?"

An expression of recognition passed across Cael's face at the woman's mention of "queenly". Cael was certain a local never had heard about queens. After all this city was very isolated from the rest of Verenkor. He moved his hand away from the shaft of his dagger. He then gave the woman a nod and after a second thought he added:
"Yes, my friend is indeed of a queenly nature."

After this notion, he cautiously walked closer across the stone set roof. He kept a defensive stance however in case it was a trap. The woman followed his movement across the roof with a steady gaze but she didn't do any treating motions. Cael let out a breath he had been holding in and sat down beside her, but leaving some space between. He the looked at the woman. "So... what's your name?" he then asked.

If this was the one he was going to meet, Dia Gald, she would hopefully reply with that name. Unless she was still cautious in which case she hopefully would answer with a pre-taken name which he had been told about. If not... this might get bloody, no matter who she was.

He had come without hesitation. The roll of parchment had been thrust into his hand once more, a bit of ink and paper and the dull red wax stamped with the sun-skull of his Order. Such a little thing to call him away from home. Such a small thing to bring the bloodied blade back from the unceasing tide of war. Such a tiny, insignificant thing to stanch the wounds of the heretic and grant him respite as the instrument of Loegir's righteous might turned southerly, resignedly spurring his foaming warhorse, still spotted here and there by the thrash of mud and blood, the skirling dance of blades, back toward Holy Seboet, and another battlefield.

One of gold and gilt. And guilt. Loegir watches.

Roarke, Brother-Captain of the Ordo Inquisitorius, sword and shield and mail-clad fist of Loegir, did not present his writs to the city guard when he came upon them by the southern gate. Instead, he had only to draw to an impatient halt and wait for the scurrying guardsmen to lay eyes upon the sigil embossed into his breastplate and pauldrons. The paint had chipped under the unrelenting sun, and errant sword-strokes, and was caked with the dust of the road, but even the eyes of the old gate sergeant, half-closed by the sun and bleary with the hour, could recognize the hammer and sun-skull. And an Inquisitor is not one to be delayed.

Gates had parted. Crowds had parted. Men in armor were not an uncommon sight on the Seboet byways. Men like Roarke were. He did not ride like a guardsman. They oft-times lashed out with words or boots at those who impeded them. He did not ride like a knight, high and proud in the saddle and heedless of what transpired about them. He certainly did not ride like a noble, unaccustomed to the stench of the slums or the riot of activity in the Market. Roarke met eyes. Roarke weighed souls.

When he arrived at the Temple, he'd handed his reins to a fresh-faced squire of the Sol Guard, new shod in his spurs and stuttering as the Inquisitor spared him not a word of greeting or command. The orders were clear enough. See to my horse, and should you care to, thank me for the privelege. Roarke patted the beast's thickly muscled neck and walked on.

When he reached the Solar, the high fane and its fine, domed glass roof, he removed the heavy, pattern-welded sabre from his scabbard and laid it before the golden altar.

"Loegir, Fire of Heaven, Sword of the Morning, Vanquisher of Shadow, Purifier, Lord of Sun and Star, King of the Empyrean, hear the words of Roarke, Brother Captain of your holy Ordo, and Fist of Sacred Seboet." Roarke intoned the words in a husky whisper as he held his right fist against the sigil at the center of his chest and let his left hover over the vicious sabre. "Too long has this holy place been host to the depredations of evil. Too long has your holy name and holy fire been profaned within your own sanctum. Sacred Seboet bleeds, Loegir, Lord. A worm is at her heart."

Roarke fell to his knees with a rattle and clash of heavy plate and mail. "In your holy name, I go forth to seek justice for this blasphemy. Give to me the strength to do your will. Give me the clarity of purpose to burn this infection to the root, to rip the life from this profanity, to strike so deeply that Shadow itself be stilled. I am your wrath, Loegir, Lord. I am your instrument."

Roarke took up his sword and rose with a fluidity that belied his mass and raiment; skin and steel flowed upward with a rasping hiss of metal on metal. He bent forward at the waist to kiss the altar, his left hand, his heart hand still gripping the familiar pommel and hilt of his sabre. "My armor is contempt. My shield, disgust. My sword is hatred. In Loegir's holy name, let none survive."

With a scowl and a grumble, Azil batted away at the other priests and Sol Guards that had gathered after his little episode. He had already caught a whiff of that signature minty scent that he associated with the medication they had been recently prescribing him. Now was not the time for an induced calm. Realizing the importance of remaining temporarily free of outer influences he threw an elaborate fan he had been given earlier at one of the elders holding the bottle causing him to fall back against the other priest.

“I don’t want it!” he hollered with frustration as the men tried to hold their ranks against his tantrum.

It looked like several of the Sol Guards were preparing to assist the Oracle, when Dair finally returned. Although he could not see their faces, their relaxing postures were enough to indicate great relief in the return of possibly the only one who could get him to calm down.

Dismissing the men with a wave of his covered hand, he watched as the men thankfully receded from his presence. Once they were far enough to not eavesdrop, behind the veils Azil looked down upon his guard with narrowed eyes.

“This is… acceptable.” He finally decreed with a simple nod. “I want you ready to move out at a moment's notice once she returns. For now, we shall return to the temple and prepare. I want to get out of the cursed weather.“

The Seeress slipped into the crowd, her hand clasping Dahlia's with increasing fear. She'd spotted Dahlia's face as she'd looked at her robes, feeling a tinge of guilt that she'd put the priestess in such a bad position. But now was not the time to linger, so Adele cast her eyes out in search of Lyseria's face in the crowd. Not seeing it, nor Dervish now, she swore mentally and hurried along.

Halfway through the crowd, she stopped to look behind her, spying the Sol Knight back with the carriage. Safe, then. Adele looked to Dahlia, her expression apologetic and her voice quietlike, as always.

"We need to return to safety. We should go separately, in case we are followed." Provided Dahlia did not protest or seem unfriendly to the idea, Adele slipped away and hurried down the Temple Road, southbound for Dahlia's bathhouse.

Dair hadn't realized the concubine was watching--they'd intended for her to move down the alleyway, not follow them. Once again they found themselves grateful for the mask over their face when a comically embarrassed expression passed over it.

The Sol Knight watched her eyes turn back to the alleyway. "We may just be in luck," she murmured before tugging the knight's arm. Dair followed, but watching the pair before them move back into the crowd, they had their doubts. Leaning forward and nudging past a bystander, they bent closer to Nyaera and whispered into their ear, a voice at once both metallic and surprisingly gentle.

"You follow. I will see to His Holiness. They will notice me," the knight whispered before slipping away and returning to the Oracle of Seboet. They bent a little protectively over the boy and knelt before them in order to bring their head to a lower level than his. "Sir, Nyaera is in pursuit of two suspicious women."