There were four Templars left, and four ground fighters to deal with them. It wasnāt terribly difficult to imagine how that was going to goāit was to the Lionsā advantage if they could draw their foes as far apart as possible, because it would make it easier for the archers still above to assist their comrades. Havard, being the only one with a shield of his own, rushed the woman who came out first, driving her back with a burst of aggression and his superior weight. That cleared the way for the other three to come through the door, and the next one rushed for Cor, the youngest and obviously least well-known of the group. It was probably an attempt to flee; Cor was standing in front of the most direct route out of the area. Lucien almost felt sorry for him: young the elf may be, but his talent was nothing to be underestimated. Lucien knew for a fact that the lad was much better with that sword than heād been at the same age, a fact that could very well continue to hold true into the future, if he kept working at it.
The third Templar held a heavy flanged mace, but no shieldāthe weapon was clearly meant to be flexible between one- and two-handed grips, much like a bastard sword. Lucien drew Everburn from over his shoulder and advanced, cutting off the manās route to help his compatriot fight Cor and get away. The dim glow of the ancient bladeās enchantment was the only warning the Templar had as the blade came down, and it proved just enough for him to jump backwards, narrowly avoiding the controlled vertical swing.
Unperturbed by his miss, Lucien brought the greatsword back around to a ready position. āSurrender, and no more need die.ā The entreaty was, of course, rebuffed with a scoff, and the Templar darted in, swinging the mace in a heavy downward arc, which might have done Lucienās chestplate some very heavy damage, if heād stood there and taken the blow.
āNo one ever takes me up on that,ā he muttered, lifting Everburn to parry. The mace hit with enough force to cast sparks from the point of contact, reverberating off with a clang. While the Templar recovered from the recoil, Lucien attempted a broad horizontal slash, forcing him to back up out of range again, diving to the side and rolling back to his feet. The mace came down again, this time for Lucienās arm, too close for him to block effectively. So he dodged instead, strafing sideways with light feet and setting his stance again, noting disinterestedly that while the mace had clipped his elbow on his way out, it wasnāt a serious wound.
Stepping in closer than was usually advisable for a weapon of Everburnās size, he slammed the pommel into the Templarās forehead, crumpling him to the ground. There had been a crack there, though, and Lucien realized grimly that even if his opponent was still alive, it looked like he wouldnāt be able to wake up and talk any time soon. Taking a moment to survey the field, he noted that Cor was shaking excess blood off his blade. His opponent was definitely deadāin addition to the two arrows sticking out of his shoulder and side, he was missing his head.
Sophia's opponent was not dead, but most assuredly dying. She was on one knee beside him, a fair amount of blood staining her armor, though none of it appeared to be her own. The Templar that lay before her had suffered a wound through the upper midsection, the blood covering Sophia's sword evidence of how it happened. An arrow had also pierced him near the back of his neck, having come from one of the archers above. As his life ebbed from him, Sophia drew the knife from her boot. "Find some peace at the Maker's side, if you can." She slid the knife steadily between his ribs, piercing his heart and putting an end to the suffering.
Havard, however, had managed to subdue the woman with the shield without killing her, and currently had a knee pressed into her back, his longswordās edge hovering a few centimeters from the back of her neck. āAlive and kicking, as requested.ā The words were a little gruff with what was presumably irritation, perhaps because it looked like the Templar was still kicking, or at least thrashing around. āStay still, girl, or Iāll kill you by accident. He looked at Lucien and rolled his eyes visibly.
āZealots.ā
Sophia had more reason to despise zealotry than most; the work of armed fanatics had nearly destroyed her utterly once before, and she found herself unable to feel much sorrow for the Templars that had perished here. They had volunteered, expecting no personal gain in all likelihood, for a job that consisted of murdering civilians of Kirkwall who were largely defenseless. They were no true Templars to her, but criminals and murderers.
"The hell you talking about?" the woman protested beneath Havard. "I'm no zealot! You've got the wrong person!"
"Zealot or no," Sophia said, standing and wiping her blade clean, "you've committed what could at the very least be described as an armed robbery, though we have it on good authority that you intended to kill the occupants of this residence. It's more than enough to have you thrown into the Gallows." They certainly weren't going to be interrogating the woman here in the street, and at this point, it was no longer a matter for mercenaries to take care of.
"We can hand her over to the Guard," Sophia said to Lucien, coming to stand beside him. "Perhaps the Captain will be willing to speak with her." She doubted the woman would reveal anything, if she were truly devoted to the Knight-Commander, but it was worth a shot. "That should be all the fighting for one night, though. Thank you for the help, as always. I'll let you know if anything interesting arrives from our friend." She expected Marlein would be in touch, now that she'd acted on her information. It remained to be seen what would come next, though.
Lucien nodded, signaling to the archers that they could make their way back down to ground level, and Havard went about the task of cuffing the Templar, who put up considerably less resistance now that she knew there was no chance of talking her way out of this. He and Lucien would march her down to the prison section of the Gallows, while Cor would carry a message up to the Guardās barracks regarding their newest acquisition. Paperwork still needed taking care of, naturally, but that could wait until tomorrow.
It was the following evening before anything notable happened. A messenger arrived, slipping another sealed letter through Sophia's door. When she opened it and peered out at the street, the messenger had disappeared. Opening the letter, she read through the contents clearly. She was invited to a private meeting to begin near midnight, it seemed, and instructions to an address in Hightown were given. It was a quiet street, if Sophia recalled correctly, the manor to which she was directed currently unoccupied, its owner having departed for Orlais shortly before the Qunari attack, and never returned.
The letter did not have an explicit sender, though Sophia assumed it to be Marlein or an associate of hers, nor did it mention any names of other attendees. It also did not state that she had to come alone. Lucien had stopped by shortly after the letter arrived, as they had both expected something to occur, and quickly, and so the two of them departed, armed and armored for more trouble, though there was a chance this would simply be another talk. Still, it was best to be prepared; Meredith was a paranoid woman, and judging by her actions the previous night, sending out a death squad, she was willing to do anything to achieve her ends. Sophia was unwilling to reject the possibility that a trap may be set for her in the near future.
"Meredith's falling into madness," Sophia said, as they walked. The streets were near empty, only the occasional guard standing dutifully at their post, or patrolling. "And worse, her drive to crush any resistance spreads to her followers. That zealot still refuses to reveal anything." Even if she had admitted to being sent by Meredith, it would change little. It would be more evidence that Meredith needed to be removed, but still the only way to do that seemed to be by force, and that was not a course Sophia was currently willing to take.
"There must be a better way to force her to step down. Though at this point, I'm not sure she would even listen to her superiors, were they to order such a thing."
Lucienās lips thinned, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. āI could send a letter homeāthere are people there who have ties to the Divineā¦ but I think youāre right. Madness is seldom dissuaded by reason.ā It was really quite odd, though. His interactions with the Knight-Commander had been few and far between, but she had seemed when he first met her to be levelheaded enough, if perhaps harsher in her belief and her authority than others like her he had known before. This escalation was very peculiar. He rubbed at his jaw with a hand, shaking his head.
āBut you know, a commander is only as good as the lieutenants and the corporals and the recruits who listen to them. Morbid as it is to say so, perhaps this culling of the worst of the lot will make some of the others think a little harder about what they really ought to be doing, as Templars.ā It was, he knew, far too optimistic a thought, but like Sophia, he didnāt really see Meredith willingly giving up her position, or softening her stance in any way. Perhaps the more moderate Templars would eventually grow as dissatisfied with this as the nobles seemed to beāif so, they would be in a better position to do something about it.
She hoped it would turn out that way, that more of the Templars would begin to really think about what they were doing to the city, but it was just as likely that the deaths of their brothers and sisters would only spur them into violent action where before they had taken none. But it was an issue impossible to confront with thought alone, so she pushed it from her mind.
They had arrived, in any case, a servant of one of a nobles awaiting them outside the manor in question. He was young and well-dressed for his station, and waved at the approaching pair. "You've come, good. The others have already begun. You'll find them inside." He pushed the door open for them, allowing their entry, and closed it behind them.
"We cannot stand idly by while Meredith oversteps herself at every turn," Marlein was saying, from the head of the dining table. A small group of nobles, six to be exact, were gathered around it. A few were in armor as Marlein was, while others didn't look like the type capable of wearing it. "And to that end, I say we use our influence to stand behind a worthy candidate, one that comes before us now!" She held her hands out to introduce the newly arrived Sophia, who apparently had come with excellent timing.
Most of the nobles at the table seemed agreeable to the presentation so far, though one, a middle aged man with sandy blonde hair, whom Sophia did not recognize, widened his eyes at the sight of her and Lucien. "Ser Marlein, you did not mention that your guests would be Lady Dumar and Lord Drakon."
Marlein raised an eyebrow. "Nor did they know whom they would be meeting tonight. I thought it only fair. Is that a problem, Edgert?" The other nobles all now turned their gaze upon him, and he turned a bit red, shaking his hands at them.
"No, no, but even with them, this course is foolhardy. The Knight-Commander will kill us all."
A man at his side, with dark hair and a full beard, armed with sword and shield, shook his head. "Edgert, you do yourself no credit. My father and grandfather both died defending Kirkwall from aggressors. Meredith is no different." He turned to Sophia, bowing briefly. "Lady Dumar, Lady Selbrech, you have my sword."
It was at this point that there was a brief commotion from outside the door, the very clear sound of a young man being killed, painfully. Edgert backed away from the table, drawing his sword. "I tried to warn you..." he said. The door was kicked in a moment later, a small band of masked soldiers storming in, weapons drawn.
Lucien did a quick headcountāthere were about half a dozen of the masked assailants, versus himself, Sophia, about two nobles who were carrying weapons and looked like they knew how to use them, and the fellow who seemed likely to have been the betrayer in the group. All-in-all, it wasnāt a fantastic situation, especially since that left three nobles who werenāt armed, which would only complicate things. āGet back!ā he ordered that lot, not really standing on politesse considering the urgency of the situation. There was little time to do or say more, though, for their assailants were advancing.
Taking several large strides forward to put himself in the way, Lucien drew his sword, swinging it down in a smooth motion from the draw, knocking aside the attempted parry from one of the masked men and stepping in to punch him square in the nose with a heavy gauntlet. The delicate cartilage crunched under the force of the blow, and he followed up with a pommel strike to the temple, sending that one to the floor and stepping rightwards to engage the next.
The zealots wisely chose to not all attempt engaging Lucien, several slipping through the doorway and skirting around his range to try and get behind. Sophia moved quickly to shore up his left side, her sword free of its sheath. She caught the first downward strike of a longsword with a horizontal parry, deflecting the blade off to the side, though her own right side was left open to attack, a second zealot engaging her and landing a hit with her mace. The jarring blow to the ribs knocked Sophia back a step, but before the two could press any advantage, Ser Marlein charged into the mace-wielding woman shield first, taking her off her feet and ramming her backside into the nearest wall.
Recovering quickly, Sophia made a lunging attack, expecting the parry that came, and following up with a low kick, hitting the inside of her opponent's knee and knocking him down a level. She brought her own knee forward, swiftly cracking into his forehead, which was protected only by his hood. He crumpled to the ground on his back. Elsewhere, the nobleman Edgert had turned and thrown himself bodily through the window, shattering the glass and leaving him to land in an undignified manner on the other side. The noble that had pledged his support to them was assisting Lucien's right side, though he'd received a blow to the head, by the looks of it, apparently outmatched by his opponent. Sophia could not assist, however, as she had to quickly rush forward to meet a zealot hoping to gain a free attack on Marlein's back, while she finished dealing with the one she'd pinned.
Lucien sent his second foe to the ground with a bloody gash in his abdomen and interceded on behalf of his ally, body-checking the woman whoād managed to hit the lord in the head. His weight and force sent her sprawling, and Everburn stabbed downwards, punching through the light chain she wore and ending her quickly. A shout alerted him to the fact that one of their assailants had managed to maneuver around all those that could fight in an attempt to reach those who could not. He was too far away to reach in time, at least on foot.
Crouching, Lucien pulled his spare knife free of his boot, testing the heft in one hand and then gripping it in the manner Idris had instructed the rest of the Lions. With a strong toss, it went flying end-over-end for the assailant. The throw was far from perfect, but it did at least hit sharp-end first, striking the manās shoulder from the back. Rather than embedding itself there as it should have, it left a deep cut and clattered to the floor, but it was enough distraction to pull the manās attention, and Lucien and the armed nobleman beside himānow recovered from the blow to his head, it seemedārushed forwards. Between them, the masked man didnāt stand much of a chance.
The last of the zealots dropped on the other side of the room as well, Sophia and Marlein having dealt with them quickly enough. The fighting ceased, those nobles that could not protect themselves warily stood up again from their hiding places, viewing the carnage with no small amount of horror. The wounded nobleman was in the process of bandaging his head to stop the bleeding; Sophia handed him a small healing potion she had on her, and received his thanks in return.
"Well fought," Marlein said, wiping her sword clean. "Looks as though some survived. We'll see to it that they're put behind bars. And we will spread word of this attack; it may sway some of the nobles unsure of Meredith's madness. As for Edgert... I have a feeling he will regret the side he has chosen." She offered her arm out to Sophia. "Rest assured, when the time comes, you will have our aid, and whatever our influence can buy."
They clasped hands, the alliance cemented.
The third Templar held a heavy flanged mace, but no shieldāthe weapon was clearly meant to be flexible between one- and two-handed grips, much like a bastard sword. Lucien drew Everburn from over his shoulder and advanced, cutting off the manās route to help his compatriot fight Cor and get away. The dim glow of the ancient bladeās enchantment was the only warning the Templar had as the blade came down, and it proved just enough for him to jump backwards, narrowly avoiding the controlled vertical swing.
Unperturbed by his miss, Lucien brought the greatsword back around to a ready position. āSurrender, and no more need die.ā The entreaty was, of course, rebuffed with a scoff, and the Templar darted in, swinging the mace in a heavy downward arc, which might have done Lucienās chestplate some very heavy damage, if heād stood there and taken the blow.
āNo one ever takes me up on that,ā he muttered, lifting Everburn to parry. The mace hit with enough force to cast sparks from the point of contact, reverberating off with a clang. While the Templar recovered from the recoil, Lucien attempted a broad horizontal slash, forcing him to back up out of range again, diving to the side and rolling back to his feet. The mace came down again, this time for Lucienās arm, too close for him to block effectively. So he dodged instead, strafing sideways with light feet and setting his stance again, noting disinterestedly that while the mace had clipped his elbow on his way out, it wasnāt a serious wound.
Stepping in closer than was usually advisable for a weapon of Everburnās size, he slammed the pommel into the Templarās forehead, crumpling him to the ground. There had been a crack there, though, and Lucien realized grimly that even if his opponent was still alive, it looked like he wouldnāt be able to wake up and talk any time soon. Taking a moment to survey the field, he noted that Cor was shaking excess blood off his blade. His opponent was definitely deadāin addition to the two arrows sticking out of his shoulder and side, he was missing his head.
Sophia's opponent was not dead, but most assuredly dying. She was on one knee beside him, a fair amount of blood staining her armor, though none of it appeared to be her own. The Templar that lay before her had suffered a wound through the upper midsection, the blood covering Sophia's sword evidence of how it happened. An arrow had also pierced him near the back of his neck, having come from one of the archers above. As his life ebbed from him, Sophia drew the knife from her boot. "Find some peace at the Maker's side, if you can." She slid the knife steadily between his ribs, piercing his heart and putting an end to the suffering.
Havard, however, had managed to subdue the woman with the shield without killing her, and currently had a knee pressed into her back, his longswordās edge hovering a few centimeters from the back of her neck. āAlive and kicking, as requested.ā The words were a little gruff with what was presumably irritation, perhaps because it looked like the Templar was still kicking, or at least thrashing around. āStay still, girl, or Iāll kill you by accident. He looked at Lucien and rolled his eyes visibly.
āZealots.ā
Sophia had more reason to despise zealotry than most; the work of armed fanatics had nearly destroyed her utterly once before, and she found herself unable to feel much sorrow for the Templars that had perished here. They had volunteered, expecting no personal gain in all likelihood, for a job that consisted of murdering civilians of Kirkwall who were largely defenseless. They were no true Templars to her, but criminals and murderers.
"The hell you talking about?" the woman protested beneath Havard. "I'm no zealot! You've got the wrong person!"
"Zealot or no," Sophia said, standing and wiping her blade clean, "you've committed what could at the very least be described as an armed robbery, though we have it on good authority that you intended to kill the occupants of this residence. It's more than enough to have you thrown into the Gallows." They certainly weren't going to be interrogating the woman here in the street, and at this point, it was no longer a matter for mercenaries to take care of.
"We can hand her over to the Guard," Sophia said to Lucien, coming to stand beside him. "Perhaps the Captain will be willing to speak with her." She doubted the woman would reveal anything, if she were truly devoted to the Knight-Commander, but it was worth a shot. "That should be all the fighting for one night, though. Thank you for the help, as always. I'll let you know if anything interesting arrives from our friend." She expected Marlein would be in touch, now that she'd acted on her information. It remained to be seen what would come next, though.
Lucien nodded, signaling to the archers that they could make their way back down to ground level, and Havard went about the task of cuffing the Templar, who put up considerably less resistance now that she knew there was no chance of talking her way out of this. He and Lucien would march her down to the prison section of the Gallows, while Cor would carry a message up to the Guardās barracks regarding their newest acquisition. Paperwork still needed taking care of, naturally, but that could wait until tomorrow.
It was the following evening before anything notable happened. A messenger arrived, slipping another sealed letter through Sophia's door. When she opened it and peered out at the street, the messenger had disappeared. Opening the letter, she read through the contents clearly. She was invited to a private meeting to begin near midnight, it seemed, and instructions to an address in Hightown were given. It was a quiet street, if Sophia recalled correctly, the manor to which she was directed currently unoccupied, its owner having departed for Orlais shortly before the Qunari attack, and never returned.
The letter did not have an explicit sender, though Sophia assumed it to be Marlein or an associate of hers, nor did it mention any names of other attendees. It also did not state that she had to come alone. Lucien had stopped by shortly after the letter arrived, as they had both expected something to occur, and quickly, and so the two of them departed, armed and armored for more trouble, though there was a chance this would simply be another talk. Still, it was best to be prepared; Meredith was a paranoid woman, and judging by her actions the previous night, sending out a death squad, she was willing to do anything to achieve her ends. Sophia was unwilling to reject the possibility that a trap may be set for her in the near future.
"Meredith's falling into madness," Sophia said, as they walked. The streets were near empty, only the occasional guard standing dutifully at their post, or patrolling. "And worse, her drive to crush any resistance spreads to her followers. That zealot still refuses to reveal anything." Even if she had admitted to being sent by Meredith, it would change little. It would be more evidence that Meredith needed to be removed, but still the only way to do that seemed to be by force, and that was not a course Sophia was currently willing to take.
"There must be a better way to force her to step down. Though at this point, I'm not sure she would even listen to her superiors, were they to order such a thing."
Lucienās lips thinned, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. āI could send a letter homeāthere are people there who have ties to the Divineā¦ but I think youāre right. Madness is seldom dissuaded by reason.ā It was really quite odd, though. His interactions with the Knight-Commander had been few and far between, but she had seemed when he first met her to be levelheaded enough, if perhaps harsher in her belief and her authority than others like her he had known before. This escalation was very peculiar. He rubbed at his jaw with a hand, shaking his head.
āBut you know, a commander is only as good as the lieutenants and the corporals and the recruits who listen to them. Morbid as it is to say so, perhaps this culling of the worst of the lot will make some of the others think a little harder about what they really ought to be doing, as Templars.ā It was, he knew, far too optimistic a thought, but like Sophia, he didnāt really see Meredith willingly giving up her position, or softening her stance in any way. Perhaps the more moderate Templars would eventually grow as dissatisfied with this as the nobles seemed to beāif so, they would be in a better position to do something about it.
She hoped it would turn out that way, that more of the Templars would begin to really think about what they were doing to the city, but it was just as likely that the deaths of their brothers and sisters would only spur them into violent action where before they had taken none. But it was an issue impossible to confront with thought alone, so she pushed it from her mind.
They had arrived, in any case, a servant of one of a nobles awaiting them outside the manor in question. He was young and well-dressed for his station, and waved at the approaching pair. "You've come, good. The others have already begun. You'll find them inside." He pushed the door open for them, allowing their entry, and closed it behind them.
"We cannot stand idly by while Meredith oversteps herself at every turn," Marlein was saying, from the head of the dining table. A small group of nobles, six to be exact, were gathered around it. A few were in armor as Marlein was, while others didn't look like the type capable of wearing it. "And to that end, I say we use our influence to stand behind a worthy candidate, one that comes before us now!" She held her hands out to introduce the newly arrived Sophia, who apparently had come with excellent timing.
Most of the nobles at the table seemed agreeable to the presentation so far, though one, a middle aged man with sandy blonde hair, whom Sophia did not recognize, widened his eyes at the sight of her and Lucien. "Ser Marlein, you did not mention that your guests would be Lady Dumar and Lord Drakon."
Marlein raised an eyebrow. "Nor did they know whom they would be meeting tonight. I thought it only fair. Is that a problem, Edgert?" The other nobles all now turned their gaze upon him, and he turned a bit red, shaking his hands at them.
"No, no, but even with them, this course is foolhardy. The Knight-Commander will kill us all."
A man at his side, with dark hair and a full beard, armed with sword and shield, shook his head. "Edgert, you do yourself no credit. My father and grandfather both died defending Kirkwall from aggressors. Meredith is no different." He turned to Sophia, bowing briefly. "Lady Dumar, Lady Selbrech, you have my sword."
It was at this point that there was a brief commotion from outside the door, the very clear sound of a young man being killed, painfully. Edgert backed away from the table, drawing his sword. "I tried to warn you..." he said. The door was kicked in a moment later, a small band of masked soldiers storming in, weapons drawn.
Lucien did a quick headcountāthere were about half a dozen of the masked assailants, versus himself, Sophia, about two nobles who were carrying weapons and looked like they knew how to use them, and the fellow who seemed likely to have been the betrayer in the group. All-in-all, it wasnāt a fantastic situation, especially since that left three nobles who werenāt armed, which would only complicate things. āGet back!ā he ordered that lot, not really standing on politesse considering the urgency of the situation. There was little time to do or say more, though, for their assailants were advancing.
Taking several large strides forward to put himself in the way, Lucien drew his sword, swinging it down in a smooth motion from the draw, knocking aside the attempted parry from one of the masked men and stepping in to punch him square in the nose with a heavy gauntlet. The delicate cartilage crunched under the force of the blow, and he followed up with a pommel strike to the temple, sending that one to the floor and stepping rightwards to engage the next.
The zealots wisely chose to not all attempt engaging Lucien, several slipping through the doorway and skirting around his range to try and get behind. Sophia moved quickly to shore up his left side, her sword free of its sheath. She caught the first downward strike of a longsword with a horizontal parry, deflecting the blade off to the side, though her own right side was left open to attack, a second zealot engaging her and landing a hit with her mace. The jarring blow to the ribs knocked Sophia back a step, but before the two could press any advantage, Ser Marlein charged into the mace-wielding woman shield first, taking her off her feet and ramming her backside into the nearest wall.
Recovering quickly, Sophia made a lunging attack, expecting the parry that came, and following up with a low kick, hitting the inside of her opponent's knee and knocking him down a level. She brought her own knee forward, swiftly cracking into his forehead, which was protected only by his hood. He crumpled to the ground on his back. Elsewhere, the nobleman Edgert had turned and thrown himself bodily through the window, shattering the glass and leaving him to land in an undignified manner on the other side. The noble that had pledged his support to them was assisting Lucien's right side, though he'd received a blow to the head, by the looks of it, apparently outmatched by his opponent. Sophia could not assist, however, as she had to quickly rush forward to meet a zealot hoping to gain a free attack on Marlein's back, while she finished dealing with the one she'd pinned.
Lucien sent his second foe to the ground with a bloody gash in his abdomen and interceded on behalf of his ally, body-checking the woman whoād managed to hit the lord in the head. His weight and force sent her sprawling, and Everburn stabbed downwards, punching through the light chain she wore and ending her quickly. A shout alerted him to the fact that one of their assailants had managed to maneuver around all those that could fight in an attempt to reach those who could not. He was too far away to reach in time, at least on foot.
Crouching, Lucien pulled his spare knife free of his boot, testing the heft in one hand and then gripping it in the manner Idris had instructed the rest of the Lions. With a strong toss, it went flying end-over-end for the assailant. The throw was far from perfect, but it did at least hit sharp-end first, striking the manās shoulder from the back. Rather than embedding itself there as it should have, it left a deep cut and clattered to the floor, but it was enough distraction to pull the manās attention, and Lucien and the armed nobleman beside himānow recovered from the blow to his head, it seemedārushed forwards. Between them, the masked man didnāt stand much of a chance.
The last of the zealots dropped on the other side of the room as well, Sophia and Marlein having dealt with them quickly enough. The fighting ceased, those nobles that could not protect themselves warily stood up again from their hiding places, viewing the carnage with no small amount of horror. The wounded nobleman was in the process of bandaging his head to stop the bleeding; Sophia handed him a small healing potion she had on her, and received his thanks in return.
"Well fought," Marlein said, wiping her sword clean. "Looks as though some survived. We'll see to it that they're put behind bars. And we will spread word of this attack; it may sway some of the nobles unsure of Meredith's madness. As for Edgert... I have a feeling he will regret the side he has chosen." She offered her arm out to Sophia. "Rest assured, when the time comes, you will have our aid, and whatever our influence can buy."
They clasped hands, the alliance cemented.
The Chanter's Board has been completed. A Noble Agenda has been completed.