Chapter 11: Aftermath

“It is what we suspected”, the Archbishop said softly, frowning over the letters spread in front of them. It was late at night and only one candle lit on the desk in his private study. But even in that dim, flickering light he could see Lainné looked exhausted and worried.

Benedictus of Stormwind placed his hands under his chin and studied her thoughtfully, taking his mind from the news she had brought. He still couldn’t figure out how she had managed to retrieve those letters from the middle of the Syndicate occupied Stromgarde. A very strong woman she was and resourceful. Almost too dangerously so. Other people might try to use her for their own purposes, if only they knew…He sighed.

“Are you feeling well, daughter?”

“Y..Yes Father.”

Taken by surprise, Lainné stammered for a second, before retrieving her outward certainty.

“As you have said, Father, these letters confirm indeed that there is a connection between the Syndicate and…”

“I only asked you if you feel well, child…”

She gave a start, frowned, then blushed to the roots of her hair. There was something else in the Archbishop’s voice – something as if he may have actually known what happened in Stromgarde. He couldn’t have. But once she had started to think of it, the feeling of uneasiness buried in the pit of her stomach stirred again.

She shrugged, smoothing with nervous fingers the hair hanging loose about her shoulders. She should’ve tied it properly, Lainné thought. Walking around like a woman who cared for nothing else than to be looked at hardly qualified as suitable for a priest of the Light.

“What makes you ask me so, Father?”

The Archbishop sighed again, his eyes never leaving hers. Yet his smile when he answered was sincere, even if a little tired.

“You look worn out. You have been running too many such errands of late… and never had any rest. I am pushing you too hard.”

Lainné shook her head denying. At least the other thing was not written visibly on her face.

“There is no time for rest, Father. I have made copies of the letters and…”
Benedictus nodded silently, acknowledging her words, then cut her off.

“We live hard times.” A note of worry crept into his voice this time. “What we miss now is some more dedication from our rulers and… ” It was better not to say the words, the Archbishop thought bitterly. You never knew who could be listening from behind a door, or a curtain…or even a hole carefully dug into the wall. “While you were away, Magistrate Ebonlocke of Darkshire sent a new message to the King, asking for reinforcement, lest the entire Duskwood is overrun by shadows and darkness. Vile things happen in the forests, so he said.” Benedictus seemed suddenly overwhelmed by the difficulty of his own task…or maybe it was just the fact that the bad news kept pouring on them from all sides. “Lady Prestor managed to stop the letters before they reached Lord Fordragon…There is nothing I can do yet…Light, sometimes I wish Father Faol was here. I wish the Silver Hand still existed…” He placed his palms against the table, over the papers that lay there and glared into the shadows above Lainné’s head. “We are so powerless…so powerless against all this evil that seeps through everything and lurks at every corner…”

“I will see what Mayor Ebonlocke’s message is about”, Lainné said wearily. It never ended. But then, it was preferable to sleepless nights staring at the ceiling and wondering just why Eireannan’s arms had felt so right around her…