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At some point in the distant past, many years, many generations ago, the Martense line was split in two. One line mixed blood with peasants and commoners and became debased – like Munroe, like Eleanora. Yet, however debased they may be, they are still men. Still human. The other line remained pure, turning inwards and sinking out of view. They vanished into the living rock of the mountain, seeking a greater Solitude.
What became of them after that, you shudder to imagine.
“Okay. So...” Ariel hesitates, nervously tugging at her uniform's high collar, “What do we do now?”
Your answer is cut short by a dull, metallic crash that echoes out from the manor grounds. Another thunderous boom follows a moment later, then another as if some giant was ponderously knocking on a vast door. Almost in response, you hear Munroe yelping from within his impromptu cell. Throwing the door open, you stumble back as the old servant lurches out at you. Ariel fells him with a short kick to the side of his leg, sending the pallid man tumbling to the ground.
“The ancestors, the ancestors!” he wails, “I must... let them out...”
“That's not going to happen,” you snarl, bundling the old man back into the pantry. He falls back hard, landing awkwardly against a crate and slumping down low. “Were you the one who summoned Jan here?” you ask the sobbing man, kneeling down beside him, “Or was it THEM?”
“I... it was I,” Munro admits, “The runaways must be returned home. Such... such is the master's will.”
“And now that he's here, now what?” you press, “Tell me!”
“I don't know!” the servant wails, flinching as another loud crash rolls out from the manor grounds – the sound of mindless brutes battering their fists against the mausoleums' iron doors. Even before the sound has finished echoing out, you hear a new one – heavy footsteps hurrying down the corridor. Pushing Munroe back with a sneer of contempt, you look out to see Daniel running into the kitchen with his sword and revolver drawn.
“What's that noise?” he begins, glancing briefly at the dishevelled servant before promptly ignoring the pleas for help that seep from his lips.
“Trouble,” you answer bluntly, “You left Jan alone?”
“No, I asked Elle to keep an eye on him. I thought this was somewhat more important.”
The bottom of your stomach seems to drop away, the sudden nausea of panic rising up to choke you. You can't speak, giving Daniel a savage shake of your head before brushing past him and hastening to the bedrooms. Even before you reach the ajar door, you can smell the stench of damp soil on the air. Pushing inside only confirms what you'd feared – Jan is nowhere to be seen, and Elle is sprawled prone on the ground with a thin ribbon of blood running from her temple.
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