Azil figured that with such a motivating speech he would get some sort of reaction out of the guard. Gratitude or stunned awe would have both been acceptable, but no. What he got was the guard staring up at the sky. At first, he believed that he was being ignored, which brought around agitation. How dare Dair do that to him! But the longer the masked figure looked up, the more confused he became. Was Dair praying?

It was then that a cool drop struck the center of Azil’s face. In quite a comical fashion, the Seer flailed backwards- nearly falling over again- away from the dangers of the outside world. One might wonder if the Oracle actually believed that he too would be extinguished if the waters were to touch him. The shower drenched down upon the parade and onlookers all around. It left him flabbergasted. The Oracle who was supposed to be the voice of Loegir was left absolutely speechless.

‘Momma, why does Loegir let it rain?’ A young Azil had once asked his mother long ago during a time when she was still the one in the seat of power. The weather that year had been so bad, even going as far as too temporarily flood the floor of the Sanctum. The problem would later be deemed a divine punishment amongst the farming community for being stingy on their offerings. The leader of the farming community was hung and then the rain stopped. That was justice Loegir demanded. He remembered the way that his mother, covered in a beautiful canvas of merlot and cream, had scooped him up and held him close. As she brushed his wild hair back she cooed, ‘The rain means that Loegir is sad. It’s his way of crying, love.’

'...When it rains it means that somebody has done something wrong.'

A sudden sickness struck the Oracle. He could feel his stomach drop and churn threatening to make him ill right then and there. Recoiling into the farthest corner of the carriage, Azil was struck with a look of pure terror. Rain. This was horrible. His hand covered his mouth as he held back a heave. Beyond that. It was unthinkable!

And yet, somewhere in the logic of the twisted Seer’s mind, it all made sense. The haunting melody… the burning rune in his hand… the rain… This must be a message. A warning.

The Flame must be back.

“Dair..." he spoke with an impossibly calm, flat tone, "I want you to go. Search the crowd. If anybody looks suspicious you are to arrest them on sight. If they resist, kill them. This is nonnegotiable.” He pointed out at the crowd with a finality that would be impossible to misinterpret.

“Take Nyaera with you. She knows what sort of criminals you should be looking for.” He added.

“NOW GO!” he practically shrieked at the guard. So much for his good mood.

“Agreed.” Dahlia nodded to the two women as the water ran down her face and neck. She had no problem with going along with this new plan. Had Adele not suggested first, she probably would have suggested it herself.

Raising up the sleeve of her sari, she shielded the already hooded Seeress and followed after the girl carefully. From afar, it would probably appear as if she was attempting to guard the girl against the rain, but her main concern was the eyes around them. The chaos growing would hopefully be enough to draw attention away from them, but she knew that optimism was simply a crutch for the less fortunate.

She paused when Adele’s focus caught sight of a foreigner. For someone with features so rare, she figured that he would have stuck in her memory if they had ever met, but the face was completely new to her. Was she supposed to know him? It was difficult to even tell at this point. Leaning down she hissed, “Do you know this man?”

What irony that the mask of the sun god which had been laid over the guard's face and locked into the rings of the gold and steel armor circling their neck, now hid the heretical look of horror across Dair's face. Only widened eyes showed behind the expressionless mask.

"Yes, sir," whispered a voice half-trembling, the uncertainty a hum which vibrated against the metal. Dair turned, and looked to the crowd. Search the crowd, find Nyaera, kill anyone suspicious. His will be done.

But was it Loegir's, or Azil's?

The knight flinched the slightest bit when the Dreamreaper screamed the final order, their shoulders hackled and raised. They nodded and descended the stairs, scanning the confused and frightened crowd. Many had already begun to leave.

Brown eyes fell upon Nyaera, yes, but the sight of a deep, subtle head of hair Dair's eyes were momentarily caught--and noticed the woman raising her wrappings to shield someone, her eyes on the sniper Dair had noticed earlier. The knight's stomach turned: could he pretend not to have seen them?

As much as he would wish to, no. Never.

Dair strode through the crowd, one gauntlet flexing and reaching for the mameluke blade at their side. The other pressed bystanders out of the way, the guard's eyes on Nyaera briefly--they nodded their head towards Jacob and the two watchers as they passed, but continued on their way, feet unable to stop carrying them to their bloody destination. Dair advanced on Jacob and the women behind him, drawing the blade slowly.

"Do you know this man?"

Adele was shaking her head when a chilling image flashed within her mind: a Sol Knight advancing steadily upon them, gilded glove resting on their blade. Blade drawn, steps taken closer, steel cut across Dahlia's throat, cutting short her scream--but the present moment returned and Adele wasted not a moment in gripping Dahlia's wrist, as well as Lyseria's if she was nearby, and turning to flee down an alley.

Nyaera turned her attention back to the Oracle, wanting with every fiber of her being to push past the dumbfounded crowd and get to the carriage to alert him. She wasn't sure if the guards would let her through if she got there however, but luckily the Oracle was already on it. She saw him point out into the crowd and say something to Dair, an obvious order to sort things out. The loyal Sol Guard caught her eye but was quickly distracted by something--or someone else. From the general direction, Nyaera knew Dair had seen who she had seen. Dair pushed through the crowd towards her and towards the suspicious persons he had seen. Nyaera followed close behind, clutching her bag but also the dagger hidden in her bag. She was not a violent person, preferring to use her wits and body to get her way, but was also willing to stab someone in the back if told to do so by the Oracle.

Her chest was tight with anxiety. It was the Flame. It had to be. Only they could cause such chaos and confusion on this holy day. Suddenly their targets dashed off and Nyaera thought she saw a very familiar looking girl. Someone small and fragile that reminded her of a mouse. Adele. She hadn't seen that girl since she left her apartment 10 years ago but she still recognized her tiny body frame. She wasn't sure how she felt about her because as much as she hated to admit it, she had grown a little attached to the fragile girl. It was probably her fragility that attracted Nyaera to her. Damn it. She couldn't afford to have feelings for a girl that was involved with heretics. She obviously wasn't fragile anymore if she was part of this blasphemous rain.

"Dair. They're making a run for it. Let's go." She ordered with urgency although she probably had no right to order the Sol Guard around. She took off, knowing the strong follower of the Oracle would be close behind.

Dervish stood watching the crowd as the candles floated down the aqueducts. His burly arms crossed over his chest as he listened to the bard play his song. He didn't like the lanterns. The sun god surely wouldn't want all that garbage to float down to the slums. Even if it did carry his holy flame for a little while once it got down there it would do nothing but add to piling trash. It was these kinds of things that put the Flame against the teachings of Loegir.

"It's those fanatics in charge who are the real heretics," he muttered, glancing at the Seer in his golden carriage with disgust. Surely with that carriage alone half the slums of this city could be fed for a month.

Turning his eyes back to the bard he began to wonder about the man. Dervish couldn't help but wonder how this man could be so important to call the need for so many of the Flame to one place, and a place so open as this. Not that it was up to him to decide these things. Besides, this work was much easier than most things he had to do.

He watched as the rain began to fall, suspecting that a Flame probably had something to do with it. As he saw the Sol Guard head out into the crowd to find the proof he didn't need, Dervish made his way over in the direction of the retreating members of the Flame. He put himself close enough to them that they could hear his voice but not so close that he would be identified as one of them.

He said nothing to them but positioned himself discreetly in front of the two women that were leaving the area to block them from anyone who might be looking for the cause of the rain.

Behind the mask, Dair's eyes slid towards Nyaera and nodded at her shout. Indeed, the women he had spotted had seen his approach and were now fleeing down an alley. Nyaera's own words and their flight confirmed the suspicions.

By Loegir, Dair hoped they wouldn't resist.

It was a lucky thing, then, this full-plate armor. It did not make Dair or any other Sol Knight some hulking juggernaut capable only of plodding along, but it did slow the guard's footsteps enough to make them swear, metallic. They'd quickened their pace to a jog and had begun to near the man their master had referred to as Jacob. Very well, so they were in the employ of the Dreamreaper.

Dair decided to switch tactics and slowed their pace to briefly stop within speaking distance from Jacob, though their voice was still raised to be heard over the din and cacophony of the crowd. "You! Jacob-from-the-North! After them--the Oracle demands it!" Nyaera was ahead of this knight, but it was doubtful whether she would really be able to do anything to the other women. She was outnumbered, among other things. The Sol Knight regained their pace and hurried against the rain towards the alley, finding their way half-blocked by a disinterested looking man.

"Out of the way, citizen," said the metallic voice to Dervish.

Dervish listened as the commotion continued, hoping that the Seeress and Dahlia would be able to get away quickly and without incident. When the metallic voice of the Sol Guard came from behind him however he couldn't help but sigh silently.

"Damn it, and this wasn't supposed to be a difficult mission," he mumbled turning to face the armored guard with a lopsided smile. "I'm afraid I can't do that," he said, his arms falling to his sides to grip the hilt of the weapons he carried with him. It was a good thing he decided to bring them with him, he had almost left the two blades at the garden he used for a home currently.

"Now we don't need any trouble, my friends and I are just trying to get out of this freak rain, but if you try to take custody of them I can't say I'll stand by for it," His voice was still cheery but his eyes had gained a focus only found in a skilled fighter and his hands loosely gripped the two blades at his waist.

Looking the guard up and down quickly he knew he would only be able hold them off and not actually defeat them. Maybe if they were in an open area where he could use his style of fighting more effectively but here the armored guard had the advantage.

"So what's it going to be?" he asked ready to hold the guard off for as long as possible, just hoping that the two women could get away in time for him to make it away as well.

A dark cape pulled tightly around a slim frame, Lyra was lurking in the shadows as usual. Her pale almost yellow eyes had narrowed as she took in the events around her, she had been in the black market just a few moments ago. Lyra very much needed too stock up on fire-powder, the one thing that fueled her explosions and the only thing she knew how to use during combat.

She had seen it and felt it, the rain...this wasn't good. Nearby she saw a Sol knight and a man, No...I mustn't this is none of my business Lyra thought too herself as she watched the pair. There was no doubt, a deep tension that came with this rain.

With a final act of cowardliness she slunk away into the shadows once more too merely observe. Lyra wasn't one too throw herself on the line, she was a nobody and she liked too keep it that way.

Lyra remembered the night Adele had come knocking on Amir's door. She had been all alone and she had been terrified, instead she had run away like a coward. She needed too find Adele, she needed too tell Adele of Amir's fate. There must have been a reason she had come knocking at Amir's door, the knocking had not seized for a good while, Lyra had taken the time too grab an extra pair of clothes, Amir's journal all the flame powder she could get her hands on and had escaped through the back unseen. The night had given her the shade she had needed.

She had been hoping she would have caught a glance of Adele here today, but alas, her efforts were in vain. But wait..what was that she saw?! Locks...of red hair, Lyra instantaneously knew who the female was! It was unmistakably Dahlia! She peered at the Sol knight and the man...Dervish, making sure they were busy she slunk away into the Alleyway after the Dahlia and the woman.

Lyra took extra pain in avoiding the puddles that came across her path, there was no reason as too why the women should have known that they were being followed. Maybe Dahlia could lead her too Adele, she knew it was a dim hope...but it was better than nothing.

Twin blades at the stranger's sides. Very well. Dair wished they could have asked the man in such a softer tone, to please let them pass. Or to have asked the Oracle to forgive and forget. But such was not their job: their eyes crinkled and winced, the only betrayal of their desire to do anything other than follow these orders. They had hid, fled, and now a thug blocked their path. Never would they be able to hide from the Oracle's eyes how clearly suspicious this was.

The blade was long, and the knight's armor restrictive. They slid the mameluke slowly from its sheathe, no light to glint off its polish. Dair raised the blade enough to make it clear that they were serious.

"I wish you and your friends no harm," they said a little too softly. "Clear this path: we only wish to question." Not entirely a lie, not entirely a truth. Dair wondered briefly whether Nyaera--or the man, Jacob--could get around this man and get to the others. The knight wondered whether they really wanted them to.

Still, it would be foolish for the man before them to turn this to blade against blade. Or blade and blade against blade, as the case happened to be. Dair might have been the only Sol Knight under the direct order of Azil, but should this man actually attack him, Dair had no doubts that the other bodyguards would come to their aid. So Dair whispered under their breath, hoping against hope as they leaned just a little closer, blade held up, that Nyaera would not hear...

"I don't want to hurt you. Please don't give me a reason to," they said so softly through the thin mouth of their mask.

All the action happened so quickly, Lyseria had to think fast to convince both of her sides that she wanted them to win. She needed to save Adele and Dahlia for now, but she also needed to continue to keep the oracle believing in her. It wasn't like Lyseria was really against either of them, she was just for herself and no one else. And then the idea struck her.

A dark haired man blocked the guard, some Flame member whose name Lyseria couldn't recall at the present moment. Seeing the conflict, Lyseria remained where she was. She couldn't exactly approach a Faith member so casually in front of a flame member. She watched however, her body blocking the alley that Dahlia and Adele had fled into. Of course, it looked like an accident, and once the flame member left, if she didn't feel like he'd been distracting enough she would slow the guard down by some means of smooth words.

Dervish still had yet to draw his blades however it would take but a moment for him to draw and be prepared for battle. Though he sensed he may not have to. Dahlia and Adele must have gotten away by now and he could always find them at the meeting place later. But more than that something in the other warriors eyes told him that they didn't wish this battle to happen any more than he did.

"Personally I'd rather this didn't to violence either," he said, his position not changing but his eyes grew a little less hard as he realized his job would hopefully be able to finish without any needless fighting. Fighting that would probably end up with him outnumbered and dead.

Sure that by this point the two women were far enough away Dervish dropped his hands to his sides and stepped out of the guards way.

"Let us both just be on our ways then," He said politely, his eyes showing that he was not the type of person to attack someone from behind. Though as he looked at the guard he could help be feel that on an even playing field they would make a great battle partner.

"Another time maybe," He muttered, walking back out of the alley in the direction he came from before beginning the round about walk back to the Flame's meeting place eyes still scanning the surrounding area. He had a feeling the Guard would leave him be but there were sure to be others lurking around.

Nyaera didn't get very far before a gruff looking man blocked their path. One look and she could tell he was well armed and probably had more skill than she. She stole a glance behind the man and watched as the girl she knew to be Adele and another woman escape further and further down the alley. She turned her attention back at the man in front of her. Oh how she wanted to chew him out for getting in her way but she knew that would most likely end badly for her.

She heard the clanging of armor as Dair came up behind her. She looked back at him and stepped out of his way so that he was at the forefront instead of her. He would have a much better chance at fighting than she if things came to that as she expected they would.

She watched and waited, tension filling the surrounding the atmosphere. She expected swords to start flying at any moment, and indeed both men were ready but yet nothing happened still. She saw Dair get a little closer to the man, the enemy, and say something under his breath that Nyaera could not perceive. Words of peace perhaps, seeing as how the two slowly relaxed.

"Let us both just be on our ways then." She heard the other say as he walked away without a scratch. Nyaera watched in disbelief as his retreating figure blended in with the crowd. That was it? No punishment? No...nothing? He was obviously with the enemy and yet Dair had done nothing! How could he call himself a servant of the Oracle let alone Loegir if he was not willing to take the enemy into custody at least. Where was the Inquisitor when you needed him? Despite his over-zealous and extreme nature, at least he could get the job done.

"Dair." She did not yell at him. If she were younger, she probably would have but her temper had simmered down over the years and had settled on a quiet anger.

"Why did you let him leave like that? He was obviously with the enemy, why didn't you take him in?" She asked, anger and disbelief cutting through her voice. Because of that man, their targets had escaped. He deserved some kind of punishment but he got none, not even a slap on the wrist. She made a mental note to let the Oracle know about this development. He would know what to do.

The Sol Knight glanced between the angry ex-concubine and the fleeing heretic, worry sinking into their stomach. That hadn't looked good, that hadn't looked good at all. Still, they hoped their instincts were right.

As Nyaera scolded Dair, the guilty guard hurried down the alley after their quarry. "A fight would have taken longer, concubine," they snapped at the woman through their metal mask, frustration and annoyance rising in their voice.

A bolt of surprise jolted down Dahlia’s back, shaking her very being, as her arm- leading the rest of her- was yanked into a sprint. She wanted to be offended; to protest and demand her instant freedom. This was absolutely killing any hope of remaining incognito. They should have just kept to a casual even pace. Yet the focused intensity emitted from the tiny runner was impossible to question at this time. The damage was done, and as much as she would have liked to stop, she preferred this solution to whatever fate they had just escaped facing.

Behind them she was able to discern a conflict brewing. Daring to flash a look behind her, she instantly caught sight of the all too familiar sight of one of his holiness’ mighty warriors. Her stomach dropped and a stream of curses sped through her mind. Nearby she noted fiery little Lyra stalking them from the shadows. Careful to avoid drawing any attention to her, Dahlia subtly jerked her free hand forward to indicate that the girl should follow quickly before the Sol Guard grew wise to her presence.

Had it not been for the second familiar figure nearby, that fighter, Dervish, blocking the path she was sure that they would all already be dead. She was not particularly fond of the rogue, but knowing that he was the only thing standing in between the twisted justice of the church and them made her want to kiss him. If he survived long enough to save all of them, perhaps she would.

However, they were not safe yet.

Keeping pace, with a bit of strained difficulty, she and the Seeress spun around a corner completely set on one thing. Doing whatever the hell they had to do to avoiding a very painful early ending.

Dahlia at her side, Lyseria and Dervish in the crowd behind her, and Dair not quite on their heels, Adele fled. Lucky for the women, they'd had enough time bought for them by the knight's heavy armor and the slowing thanks to her agents.

Adele ducked into an underfoot waterway--not the cleanest one. Alongside the road it was a thin stream of water, but here tucked into one of the stone walls was carved a spout and service entrance. Locked, of course, but time was of the essence and the Seeress pressed her hand into the handle, the metal already melting. She didn't wait for it to finish and gave the door a good shove with her shoulder, pulling Dahlia in alongside her.

Leaving the door open the smallest bit, Adele peered through the crack of light and into the narrow street. The Sol Knight took a handful more moments to turn the corner they'd just passed, their pace slowed thanks to the twists and turns of the narrow space. Dyed linens fluttered overhead, the rain pounding thickly on the canvases.

She turned to Dahlia, a thin finger pressed against her lips. At least speaking quietly was something she'd had much practice in. Adele lifted herself by the tips of her toes and leaned into the woman. "I cannot beg your forgiveness, but you have my gratitude. We need to help the others." More words than the ex-priestess would usually utter in a day.

The dark little room they'd found themselves in required some feeling around on Adele's part. She pawed her way across the wall and found a pane of glass beneath a cloth. Lifting it, some faint light filtered into the room through the grime and half-baked sand of the bumpy, murky glass sheet. She glanced up at Dahlia.

They could see the crowd through here--if only vaguely so--and the little Seeress' eyes widened as she spotted a familiar face pushing into the alleyway after the Sol Knight. "Nyaera," she whispered, her face pressed a little against the pane. Once again she looked towards Dahlia, this time with a faint frown arching downwards. A kind woman she'd remember fondly--she was sure she still had that borrowed dress around somewhere--but the ex-concubine was a servant of the Oracle. And she was in pursuit, it seemed. Bad news.

Well, all the more reason to get her own people out. It was more necessary now than ever to return to Dahlia's backrooms. But she worried that the priestess might be at large now, thanks to her--had Nyaera, or any of Azil's other pets, had the time to spy their faces? What exactly had pushed the Sol Knight, and only that Sol Knight, into a series of events which would have led to blades across their throats? On this matter, Adele's Sight had no answer.

She got to the task of prying the window open, slipping through carefully one leg at a time and stumbling out the other end. Adele turned, and offered a caked-makeup hand to Dahlia in an offer of assistance.

Once allowed the luxury of expressing her sour attitude in safety of the private room, Dahlia more than exercised that right.

“Just figure out a way to fix this, Adele.” she scowled as she took her fellow ex-priestess’ hand and hoisted herself up through the opening, “That Sol Guard might have hesitated, but I think you of all people should understand that the next pursuer will not be as naïve.”

Landing on the mucky ground she made a face of disapproval and disgust. The overpowering filth offended her nose causing her to scrunch her face. She did not even want to consider how difficult it was going to be to remove the stains from the silk bottom. It would probably be simpler to purchase and sew together a new bolt of fabric. A cost that the Flame would most certainly be reimbursing her for, that was, if they all managed to make it out of this in one piece.

Binoculars didn't do all that much good at night, and even less when an act of god--certainly not this town's god--had put out all the lights. Dia Gald sighed, and folded the copperbrass instrument up. A lot of good it'd done her to smuggle them in, she thought with a silent, bitter little laugh.

She'd been watching the plaza below for about four hours now, laid on her stomach and hunched under a pile of linen. The agent had wrapped her head in linen as well, worrying that her hair'd stick out like a sore thumb along the rooftop. No one but Ser Wafthon would be joining her up here, of course--they'd been told to conduct their first meeting here, though not the hour, and Dia was beginning to worry he'd come in the morning and not in the afternoon. What the man looked like, she hadn't the foggiest. But she could smell a Tyrisian from a mile away, or so she told himself. She'd know.

Though how he'd know her, that was a good question.

Dia'd been watching the scene below unfold for a while now. The jubilant scene below had turned sour fast enough to make her lean forward and clutch the edge of the flat, stone roof with blossoming interest. The rain had caused panic, but from this vantage point she could see it was fairly localized. Not just this plaza, of course, but it was an awfully small stormcloud. Couldn't quite see how far it extended what with the night sky being so dark, but she could see where the candles were still lit in the distance. One of the odd-looking golden statues in the street below had taken off in pursuit of two women--she couldn't help but notice what might have been a head of red hair or two.

But from this spot, she couldn't see the alley they were going into, and she couldn't leave without her partner. Swearing a little, she leaned forward a little to watch what would happen in the plaza in the wake of the escape. Might this be a little spat between the factions she was sent to watch?

It had been quite a shock to the northern born Cael to come to such a warm climate. After the initial shock he had just bitten together though. After all he would spend some time here so it was just to adapt. He was cautious to the mission however, feeling that the Queen was trying to take more than she could handle. But a job was a job. Although he did have other plans...

He had been walking down the street towards the Market Hub to meet someone that was on the same mission as himself. He didn't know who it was and that caused him great distress. If he was going to have a partner (one thing he haven't need before... besides a few difficult jobs) he wanted it to be someone he could trust. But the queen had had another one in mind.

It seemed that he had been walking into some kind of parade. Knowing the little research he had found about the city-state Seboet, he knew it was a parade to celebrate its sun god Logir. He usually didn't judge other cultures but something about this city and its faith made him unwary.
His thoughts got cut off as the parade got disturbed with rain falling down and ordinary trouble, most likely an Innate's doing. Not seeing anywhere to go nor anyone near, he quickly jumped up and grabbed a ledge which lead along the building. He started to quickly climb along the wall keeping his eyes open and not stopping before he reached the roof. It had been close as a hunt unfolded below him. He breathed heavily for a few moments before he started to sneak along the roof, very thankful he had chosen dark clothes for the evening. He scanned the roofs in front of him and noticed someone lying a few yards away from where he knelled down. It could be his "partner" but it could be someone else. He started to move towards the position, jumping from roof to roof when necessary. He reached the roof and landed, hoping not to have caught his or her attention, and reached for his concealed knife.

Dia Gald's ears might have perked at the sound of approaching steps, but it was her body which twitched before lifting itself in one long, smooth and quick move. Her hand went to her own knife, a little less concealed than his own. Dia never minded flashing it, though an undercover mission like this called for far more subtlety than she might have wished.

Damn, without the candlelights it was near impossible to see much of the face. She'd expected red hair, but it wasn't a guarantee and neither was red hair too rare down here. Still, he seemed pale enough to not warrant an immediate attack.

"State your business."

"A fight would have taken longer, concubine" Oh please. A fight would not have taken longer. If he was so skilled he would have taken down that guy in an instant. But on another note, what was with that tone. She had heard it many times before and just like in the past, it would do nothing to ruffle her feathers. She had no shame in what she did, in fact, she was proud of her abilities. She thought it a compliment that men (and sometimes women) would pay extraordinary amounts for her services. Not many woman could say the same. Most women her age without a husband struggled to survive and didn't see much action for their beauty had fled them. Nyaera was glad though, it meant less competition for her.

She followed behind the Sol Guard closely, keeping an eye out for another surprise visitor. It seemed like they had been in the alley for a while and Nyaera saw no trace of who they had been chasing. She sighed. "Great. I think you lost them." Her annoyance clearly evident in her verbal stab at Dair. What were they going to tell the Oracle now.

A dead end. Dair resisted the temptation to curse, even if Nyaera had not been at their tail it was in their nature to remain disciplined. Cursing, no matter how frustrated and angered they were becoming, was out of the question. So Dair Abar was seeing red, with no way to vent. They were swiftly losing their desire to be merciful.

They turned on their heel and jogged back down the way they'd come, pushing Nyaera aside if they must. Spotting a door ajar, they hurried in that direction and waved for the concubine to follow. They slipped into the dark room, turning so that the broadness of their pauldrons could fit through the doorway. But the room was empty, as were Dair's hands.

Discipline gave way and Dair slammed a palm into the door frame. But just down the alleyway, Nyaera would be able to see Adele and Dahlia slipping out of a window.

"Impressive," Cael replied. The woman had not became scared or the like. He looked at her closely. It was difficult to figure out how she looked as she was covered in different fabrics. Cael was supposed to meet his partner around here. The woman could most likely be his partner but at the same time she could be someone else. Perhaps one of those rebels that have interrupted the parade?

He kept his stance and tried to gain additional clues about where she was from. Her skin were paler than people around here, although tanned. A stray of hair could be seen under the fabrics covering her head. With only the moon shine as a light source, it was difficult to tell the hair color. His eyes went to her knife. Cael knew quite a bit about weapons as his father had been dealing in it at times. The knife looked to be of Tyrisian make.

"I'm just taking a stroll around the city looking for a friend. Perhaps you have seen her?" Cael said and then a twitch went over his lips as an attempt to a smile.

"Impressive," he'd said. She scoffed. Was that supposed to be a joke, or something? Eyes strolled over him now that the initial rush of the moment had passed. The gentle red glow of the planet's moon made it difficult for her to make any judgements about his coloring, but his words had given her pause. An honest mistake, or was this her partner, attempting to connect without revealing much. Smart. Though he could just be a clueless local.

She moved her hand away from her blade handle a little, letting the silk fall over most of it in half-concealment once again. "I'm not so sure, but if your friend had a queenly nature about her, perhaps she's a mutual friend of ours."

Dia watched his face carefully for his reaction. If this was her partner, the meaning should be clear. If it was some local bum, he'd be left confused. So she waited.

Winding his way through the twisted streets, Dervish was constantly looking over his shoulder for any potential threats as he made his way to Dahlia's bath house and the Flame's meeting place that lurked in it's backrooms. He couldn't help but smile slightly at the night's events. The Oracle was probably furious. Dervish just hoped that the Sol Guard that had let him go wouldn't get punished to badly. Just by the way they held themselves Dervish knew they had incredible skill, skill that he would love to test himself against eventually. Looking around discreetly and seeing no one around, Dervish slipped into the backdoor of the bath house.

Once inside he walked around to one of the more comfortable chairs in the room and flopped into it to wait for the others to reappear. "I hope that bard was worth it," he muttered to himself, closing his eyes for a quick rest.

Well this was certainly an interesting development. Not the fact that they had lost their enemy but the fact that Dair was getting angry. She had never seen him anything but calm and composed so this was definitely a surprise. Messing up on the job must have hurt him more than he had initially let on. Well, it served him right. This wouldn't be happening right now if he hadn't been so intent on avoiding violence. Nyaera was not a violent person but if it got things done quicker than yes she would resort to that.

Dair roughly moved Nyaera out of the way as they backtracked. An obvious sign of his frustration. Things were looking bleak before he spotted a cracked door and motioned for her to follow. It was dark inside and there was no one in sight. Nyaera jumped slightly when she heard the sudden smash of a fist against the door frame. His discipline was leaving him. Nyaera sighed in defeat and stepped back into the alleyway looking around one last time. A movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. There! She spotted two figures suspiciously leaving through a window. From the way they were acting and the fact they left through a window was proof enough for Nyaera.

"Don't lose hope yet Sol Guard." She told Dair as she hurried to follow the pair. "We may just be in luck." She yanked the man with her (although it was more of a tug to get his attention than a yank) as they continued the chase.

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."

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.

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.“

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."