I had an in-person RP session with Richard to catch Caudraí up, and we ended with C. arriving with some company at Rhiannon’s Pool a day after the party. He asked me to prep for the next session; so here we are
Caudraí listens to the story of his companions’ travel to the Forest, to their battle. Whether he wondered why they did not send word to him to watch out for ambush or not, they did not know, as his face was as smooth as a linen napkin at the Gregory.
He nods at the end of their quick story, looking at the sheathe. Looking back, he nods again.
“Impressive work with the false Knights. With the darkness closing in, everyone who sees the Light is of great value. I think we learned that, Cael, in the Nightwood.”
“Speaking of the Light, these red men who came with me on the road are part of a secret order i’ve not heard of. They carry astonishing skill among them, and a great dedication to some purpose far away. They had some knowledge of my movements and great knowledge of Fallond. I do not wish to trust them, but strangely I do,” he looks away. “Perhaps we are not alone in all of this?”
He bites his lip, comes out of reverie, “Lord John, your commander sends his well-wishings and his greetings. I thought after what I saw in the capital, and what we have been through, that someone in the Church of the Light should be warned of what was happening – someone who would care…. Someone who might pick up our work if we do not succeed.” Caudraí laughs, “He also refused to loan me trebuchets and greek fire without explanation.”
“It seems to me from my own little Progress about the capital that not only is the Capital leadership of the Light’s Church full of persons corrupt, but they also clearly knew precisely who I was – and not in a historical context from our… dealings with Rustin et. al.”
After a settling silence, he looks at Arthur, and his face is full of grief, and the old fear that was on him when he was pretending to be Lucien. “I spoke to Thal, and Peregrinus when I was in Fallond,” he said like that meant something. He cleared his throat and wiped his face.
“I put a few things together, and I do not know it with the proof that I could provide in a mortal court,” he glances at Cael. “Arthur. Cael. St. Tarran was murdered. What you felt was the sword-stroke that cleaved his body collarbone to hip. The only sort of sword that could have made a blow like that is enchanted.” He is clearly thinking of a blood-soaked alley and Ogham emotionlessly stripping his blade of gore.
“With what you said of Lady Bess’ screams, I feel a great movement has begun by the dark. My belief is that Tarran went to rescue Eberolf, and that he fell into a trap, and was murdered by Eberolf’s own blade. I have no basis for this belief, but I think it is what would hurt us most, and so I think it is true.”
In the stunned silence, he sits up and looks at Oak. “It is good to see you again. You look … revived among your people. I wonder if they have any resource to tell us what has become of the Lady Bess?”