Pledges Old and New
Twenty-Second Day of the Tenth Month 293 AC
You make good on your word, explaining all you know bar Jeyne's precise name and circumstances which are not yours to share, making no attempt to hide how far the threat of these unknowing assassins might spread. "As far as they know nothing has happened, they are themselves fully without compulsion or mark, until the monsters reach for whatever remains of their true bodies, sealed behind aeons-old wards and legions of slave soldiers." You shake your head grimly. "When the time comes they will be little more than disposable puppets armed with poisons more potent than anything found on land, used up to sow fear and strife in the ranks of men until..."
"Until what?" Danelle asks, horrified. "What could call on such a monstrous show of power?"
"Invasion," Brandon's word cuts the air like a knife. From the Danelle's expression you know it had not come as a surprise to her either, though perhaps she did not wish to think it. "If it is indeed possible for men... or in this case dragons." He tilts his head towards you in respect at least if not liking. "Then we must assume they to have their own plans to remove that threat. The question now is who moves first with all sides veiling their hands." He taps his own ring of warding for emphasis.
"It's not perfect," the Chosen says more to herself than to you. "The maester, the boy, the maid, they were all discovered because they have this power unlike any common magic, it's an obvious sign, too obvious in the hands of those who do not know that they are agents or that they must keep it hidden, lest the hand of their masters show too early." An ugly, bitter laugh tears its way from her throat. "It looks like the fish-eyed bastards are going to make witch hunters out of all of us in the end."
It's the first time you have ever heard her curse. It makes her seem at once more human and more alone, the serenity of her calling deserting her for a moment.
"If we move before they do we might be able to recover the original bodies, or some of them at least and transfer the souls," Lya offers, faint hope and both of them know it as well as you, but better than none.
"Thank you for sharing this," Danelle says, running her fingers through her hair to keep herself from hitting something, you suspect. "If we find out anything more in this matter we will share it at once."
You nod and offer a smile of encouragement, restrained but sincere just the same, as you draw a sending stone from your cloak and set it upon the table in front of the Chosen. "This will help with that."
"I can... do it myself," she says, sounding more hesitant than dismissive.
"True, but you can also spare your prayers against more urgent need. One never knows how dire the circumstances might be," you reply simply.
Danelle nods and takes the stone as you expected, but what you had certainly not expected was what she then replies: "Should you be in need of aid against the enemies of all life, be they of the Farthest North, the depths of the sea, or the pits of Hell, call me and I will come to bring what aid I may."
"What she really means is call
us, but this is the one place she's a stickler for protocol," the Lord of Greyshield interjects, a fond expression flickering upon his pale features.
"It's not about..." Danelle cuts herself off with a sigh. "As he says then, call us if you are in need of our aid."
"Thank you, I will keep your offer in mind," you answer in parting.
More for what it represents than any desire to call upon it, but I will definitely not forget it.
What do you do next?
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OOC: A unusually short part, but this was the natural break point.
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