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Razmiran House of Medicine & Scientific Learning Embassy District, City of Almas
Andoran
Neth 29
4734 AR
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The sun hangs low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the city of Almas. In the shadow of the Razmiran temple, Knight-Marshall Delecroix watches the passage of the sun toward the battlements of the city's western wall.
"We're arranging for a sending to Thronestep."
The words jolt Delecroix from his thoughts. He turns to see Knight-Captain Calisaria Reinn coming out of the temple.
"I can't wait to hear what the Razmiran embassy has to say about this," Delecroix responds with a grimace, looking back to the temple. "I can't believe this was sitting right under our noses for years." He exhales a sharp sigh. "Fucking years Cali."
Calisaria shakes her head and puts a supportive hand on Delecroix's shoulder. "We're in the middle of a war. We warned people things like this would slip through the cracks if we deployed abroad. The Watch isn't equipped to handle this."
"How're the deputies doing?" Delecroix asks, not wanting to argue the earlier point. Calisaria recognizes the deflection, but she lets him have it.
"Alright. Westin's still in shock, but I think they're all going to recover. I'm worried about the priest, this all hit pretty close to home for her." Calisaria opines, glancing back to the temple.
"Those things, the... mind control slugs?"
"Puppeteers."
"Yeah, puppeteers." Delacroix rankles his nose. "Do you think they're all dead? What are the chances there's more of whatever was spawning them? Was Rysev the only member of the Fisher Kings?"
Calisaria shakes her head and lets her hand slip away from his shoulder. She just doesn't know. A silence falls between them for a time, and Delacroix looks back out to the setting sun.
"Westin earned his wings." Delacroix says, and Calisaria nods in wordless affirmation. "That kid's incredibly brave and just as lucky."
"They all are," Calisaria says of Westin's deputies. "We're all lucky this didn't end in a massacre. Can you imagine the political shit-storm we'd be in if an entire Razmiran temple was slaughtered by deputized Eagle Knights under our watch?"
Delacroix closes his eyes for a moment, then looks over at Calisaria. "They would've pulled their support, withdrawn triage units. The loss of life would've snowballed. A dozen lives here would've become thousands." He rolls his shoulders against the cold. "Do you think they realize that?"
Calisaria shakes her head. "No, and it's probably best that way. They've been through enough, the last thing they need is to realize how close they came to losing the war for us."
"I hate this." Delacroix admits. "Being so beholden to Razmir. Needing those triage units. This fucking winter, the whole fucking war. Something's got to give."
"I have hope." Calisaria says, taking a step away from Delacroix as she notices Westin leaving the temple. "I suppose that's the best we've got."
Delacroix sighs, looking back to the sun. It dips below the crenelated battlements and casts the city in shadow.
"Yeah," he says in a hushed voice. "Yeah."
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