>>5183524>>5183629>>5183796“When?” you demand. “When will this happen?”
“Within the next few hours,” Felman answers.
You give him no goodbye and you explode out of the Inquisitor’s home—you owe him none. The only thing which stops you running down the street now is the attention it would bring to you. Instead, you force yourself to walk as swiftly as possible without becoming conspicuous, hurrying at a brisk walk to Lord Bianchi’s home in the city.
However, when you arrive at the estate, you receive an unusual reception: one of Bianchi’s bodyguards, playing at gate-guardsman, actually attempt to STOP you, albeit without much apparent enthusiasm.
“The young lord has requested that you not be allowed to enter,” the human tells you.
“Ssstep assside,” you say, lacing your words with venom and with magical influence. You will Irinnile to return your accent, if only to expedite the conversation to come.
>>5184137>17He does so, and without a fight. So too the next one who runs towards you. You push past them, and past older and more mouldering servants who do not even put up this token resistance, marching on to Bianchi’s study. There, you find him reclining awkwardly, clearly made uncomfortable by the lasting damage to his spine and leg—damage you inflicted. From the look on his face when you enter, you wonder if he might now remember that.
