“Well, I generally don’t go about the palace much, and when I do, I don’t usually make the effort to scan. At least not recently. However, I will certainly go check. As I’m sure you will also.” Damien just nodded, obviously worried.
“So this is not standard practice for the council?” Edwyrd asked.
Damien shook his head. “No. Certainly not. We have some big egos on the council but no one has ever been quite that-irrational-to date.”
Antefalken just looked at Damien for a few moments. “The real question, assuming they are there,” he looked to Gastropé and Edwyrd, “is who’s are they?”
“Well...” Damien said, “if you believe the Rod, they belong to a group of archdemons who’ve taken over the city.” Edwyrd and Gastropé shook their heads and just looked at each other in puzzlement.
“What?” Antefalken said.
“Well, according to Sir Talarius,” he looked Antefalken squarely in the eyes, “there are at least three archdemons in the palace, along with one or more fourth order demons.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.” Antefalken stated.
Gastropé coughed, “Archdemons? Are they serious?” Edwyrd felt the same way. They knew why the Rod was here, and it had nothing to do with archdemons. At least he didn’t think it did.
“They are deadly serious. Moreover, from what I know of Sir Talarius’ and his reputation, he does not lie about such things. They, at least, believe this.” Damien told them.
“You have a point. I’ve never met Talarius, but I’ve heard stories from demons who’ve been beaten by him. He has also permanently slain more than a few demons. He’s the epitome of the goody two shoes mentality. “ Antefalken agreed. “Unfortunately, if you also believe what I’ve heard, he’s generally not wrong on such matters.”
Damien put his head in both hands. “I had that suspicion.”
Gastropé didn’t seem to be breathing well, the young wizard was his favorite shade of pale, Edwyrd noted. “Well,” Gastropé said weakly, “this would certainly confirm what Lenamare was saying about archdemons.”
“And then some,” Antefalken added. “Shall we go for a stroll?” Antefalken looked to Damien, who just nodded and stood up slowly.
Maelen entered the large foyer of the palace. He’d spent the each of the last few days renewing his contacts in the city. Today, at the local Seer’s School, he taken the time to contact Johen and bring him up to date on the current affairs. Johen had concurred on almost all points Maelen raised. He’d also confirmed that the sorcerer, Elrose was one of Lenamare’s masters and thus the two assumed he should be coming to Freehold along with the rest of the school. Given the current situation, Johen had also suggested arranging for some support. Maelen had told him that it wouldn’t be necessary for now, but Johen should begin preparations.
Deciding that he was going to be here for a while, he felt it best to get a lay of the land, Maelen took a stroll around the palace. For this pass, he wouldn’t try seeing anything, just familiarize himself with the palace. He’d wandered for about half an hour in an upper corridor when two voices arguing took him by surprise. Almost out of habit, he stepped into the shadows in a nearby corner and allowed himself to blend in to the shadow itself. He wasn’t sure what prompted him to do so, it just felt right. If there was something he’d learned about prescience in the many years he’d been dealing with it: if something felt right, do it.
It didn’t take long for him to see what had prompted him to do so. Two large men were coming down the corridor in heated debate. They were arguing in some language Maelen didn’t immediately recognize, but given time he could figure out. As he got a good look at the two men, deciphering the language became less important.
He didn’t actually recognize either. One man, the one on the right appeared to be something of a wizard. He was wearing something like long red robes, yet with a breastplate and other armor over the robes, the robes split for horseback riding. The man had grey hair and a beard, streaked with white. He was certainly a commanding presence, standing just over six feet tall. However, he paled in comparison to his companion.
His companion was nearly a giant, almost a foot taller than the robed man. His almost shoulder length black hair was swept back over his ears and held in place by a leather strap. He was obviously a warrior of some form, of apparently incredible strength. He appeared to be in his mid to early thirties. None of this mattered however; none of this was what took Maelen’s breath.
What caused his heart to crawl up his throat was the uniform the man was wearing. A black outfit made of leather straps. Trimmed in purple and gold, with a short light purple silk cloak hanging from black metal shoulder pads. Maelen had never actually seen this uniform before. Not with his eyes. Nonetheless, like any good animage student of history, he knew the uniform.
