>>6063359But this time, you don't have to wander far. You've barely had a chance to go round two corners before you spot a young boy standing in the middle of the narrow street. Just when you're wondering if you're going to have to start intimidating small children next, he points a shaking finger at you. “Major Ionescu!” he calls out, pronouncing the name with an absurd pride. Having delivered this message, he turns and runs off.
“Could be an ambush,” Ariel warns, as you start to follow after the boy.
“But it might NOT be an ambush,” you counter, “And if it is, we can just kill them all. I'm fine either way.”
Following after the boy, he leads you to a slightly more intact house with an ajar door. With one hand hovering over the handle of your dagger, you push the door open and peer inside. Sitting at the table, lit by the dim glow of a gas lantern, is an older man with the black hair that you've come to expect from the Galseans. He looks tired, unimaginably tired, but his eyes glint a little when he sees you.
“I recognise that face,” he muses, giving you a slow nod of greeting, “I am Aurelian Ionescu. Major Ionescu, if you prefer. I believe you were looking for me?”
“That's right,” you tell him warily, “You... recognise me?”
“Not you. Your hair, your eyes. These, I recognise,” Ionescu muses, “Family, perhaps.”
“My father.”
“Your father. I see,” he nods slowly to himself, “You said that you had something of ours. A religious icon, you said.”
Moving slowly, carefully, you reach into your pocket and pull out Dunblane's talisman. Dangling it in front of him, you place the talisman on the table beside Ionescu. He takes it with a sigh, closing his fist around the spiky metal. “Not what I had been hoping to see,” he murmurs to himself, closing his eyes as he thinks, “You have given me false hope, Pale.”
“Do you know what that talisman is?” you ask directly, not caring if you come across as blunt.
Ionescu opens his eyes and stares at you. “Yes,” he answers, “I know.”
A long silence. “Well,” you prompt after a moment, “Can you tell me?”
The old man lets out another long sigh. He seems to do that a lot. “We are Galsean, Pale. We are not alike,” he tells you, “These are not things that I will discuss with an outsider.”
If you hadn't already handed the talisman over, you'd fling it into his vile face. “You discussed it with my father, apparently,” you point out, “Or are you going to tell me that he was secretly a Galsean too? God knows, he had enough secrets!”
“No,” Ionescu answers you evenly, “But he was a friend to our people. Are you a friend to our people, young Pale?”
And here it is. Really, you should've been expecting this from the start.
“Not yet,” you answer coldly, “So. What would I need to do to become a friend to your people?”
[2/3]
