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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Ruined" data-source="post: 800403" data-attributes="member: 113">1st of Chardot, ‘Divinities Day’ yr. 150 A.V., continuedThe streets of the market were choked with people, many confused by the rampant rumors surrounding the Satrap’s death. Already, Tréan could hear whispered theories ranging from malevolent titanspawn to opposing countries such as Vesh and her homeland of Durrover. The only certainty was that no one was sure what exactly had happened. She pushed these thoughts aside, intent on finding Helena and warning her of what had happened.Gerad’s cautioning hand slowed her as they approached the blue and white tent.“The Dragons are there,” he said, peering above the crowds, “speaking with the other priestess.”Tréan’s heart sank as she heard this. Had that guardsman led more men directly to their tent after the conflict? Reflecting on it, the robes she and Helena wore were rather distinctive.“We cannot go there now,” Tréan said. “Perhaps we can move closer and wait them out." Her companions were silent, but they moved with her. Tréan kept trying to catch glimpses of Helena through the crowd, but the majority of the crowd-goers were taller than her, making it difficult. Just as she began to give up hope, a path seemed to open between her and the tent and there she saw Helena, with two guardsmen nearby. Their eyes met, and the look in Helena’s eyes and the slight shake of her head told her everything: she would be in danger if she came to the tent. Tréan felt a tear form in her eye as she stopped her companions and turned away.“We must leave now.” Gerad grunted in approval, and Tréan led them away from the Madriel tent. In her haste to pull the hood of Gerad’s cloak around her head, she did not watch the path before them, and bumped into a familiar figure.The Prospero.“Well, Miss Tréan,” he said, looking directly at her. “It seems others have taken an interest in you.”“Prospero, I…” she began.“Not here, not now.” He glanced up at Surielle and Gerad, noting each of them. “Perhaps you would care to join me for a repast in my tent?”She numbly nodded in agreement, and within minutes the three were ushered into an expansive closed tent of gold and white. Tréan was surprised by the austere interior, compared to the extravagance of their host. The Prospero flaunted rings and fancy clothes, but the interior was rather plain and devoid of any decorations.After speaking to one of the acolytes, the Prospero pulled the tent flap closed and seated himself on a cushion. Hesitantly, Surielle and Tréan lowered themselves to sit. Gerad stood at military stance, much to the Prospero’s disapproval.“We are safe to talk here. I suggest you tell me where you’ve been, Tréan, and how your friends are tied into this.”  The grave tone of his voice told Tréan that he would accept nothing less than the complete truth.And so she gave it to him. She rattled out the details of her meeting with Gerad, the conflict with Surielle and the guards, the background of Marus and the Cresting Waves, and Silas, the enigmatic archer who had intervened to assist them. The Prospero stopped her occasionally to ask for greater details, but he seemed to accept her story without doubt.The Prospero began to speak as she finished, but he paused, hearing something outside of the tent. Raising a cautionary hand, he stepped outside of the tent, and slid quickly back into his flamboyant personality. Tréan picked up some of the conversation and realized that he was speaking with guardsmen. They were asking what he had seen earlier, and clearly requesting his assistance for dealing the assassin. Tréan marveled at the Prospero’s skill with words; he deferred to the guards, giving them their due respect, but completely controlled the conversation. And more importantly, he never seemed to lie. After the guards left, the Prospero returned to the tent.“The guards search for you, Tréan. They have not spoken of the battle you spoke of, but…” he paused, searching for the proper words. “They believe you to be the assassin, as preposterous as it sounds.”“What?”“More than one guard saw a female in Madrielite robes fleeing the scene. I do not believe you capable of such an act, and I consider myself a good judge of character.”The Prospero moved about the tent, twirling his moustaches, deep in thought. Tréan shared worried glances with Gerad and Surielle. Events were quickly spiraling out of control.“Normally I would recommend you follow the law and throw yourselves upon the mercy of the courts. But you and I know that there would be no justice served as such. I suggest you flee the city, perhaps even Zathiske, until matters can be resolved here.”“They will think us guilty if we run,” Gerad said.“True. But with the crowds and the celebrations here, they will quickly look to produce an assassin, truthful or not.”“But what of Helena?” Tréan asked.“I will do all I can for my old friend. You should concern yourselves with making it out of Quelsk. Should you find yourselves in Ankila, you know where you should go.”“We will,” Tréan said as they collectively rose from their seats. “Thank you.”“May good fortune bless you all.”</blockquote>

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