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[Meanwhile, elsewhere]
A gaggle of sooth stained people trudged towards the outlying estates. Somewhere under all the dust, dirt and damage, they might feasibly be Household guards, farmers, workers, agricultural yield maximization consultants, lawyers?, but primarily they are tired, scared, hurt and running for their lives.
Sacerdotessa pauses to make a warding gesture. The fire here has, for now, died down or gone elsewhere. Smoke lingers in the air. The Empyreal is closer, resonating. Half a years harvest put to the torch will do that.
Somewhere in the far distance, a bright green spark flares up.
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