The Crimson Echo Season Four

[Stelio Kontos]

"You did what had to be done, Aliani. You saved us . . ."

The bard looked back up at her, a sad, forced smile pursed on his lips. Under normal circumstances he might well have reciprocated the look that had flashed across Rina's face ... but these were not normal circumstances. "If you say so" he whispered, before returning his gaze to what was left of the body before him. Reluctantly, he rose to his feet as the group departed, covering what was left behind with whatever was left of her clothing.

He was as happy as everyone else -- well, not quite as happy as Dalen, but pleased nonetheless -- to see the Pharasmans. They appeared less pleased to see the group, however.

"My deepest apologies for the intrusion upon this sacred ground. Under normal circumstances, we would never have considered such a breach of decorum. I am afraid that, well ..." he waved at the queen limp in Sabrina's arms "... as you can see, there were mitigating factors. Time was of the essence."

"Miss Nightshade ... do you think you could help me arrange for a proper burial and ceremony? I realize this may not be the best time to ask. I would of course make whatever contribution might be necessary." He looked back down the stairs at the mangled corpse. "A dear friend of mine passed away today. I would like to honor her, as I remember her -- not as she now is."

The next few moments passed by with Aliani deep in contemplation. It was Marcus that finally snapped him out of it; Aliani's head cocked up immediately. "Trinia? Did they get her out of there? Tell me they got her out of there." There was a certain invigoration about him, a new purpose, after those words. "You can save the horse. I think I'd like to walk, if it's all right. I need some fresh air, and a bit of time to ... process things."

He'd leave the thoughts of just what had happened to the queen to the others. They could figure that out well enough. That the newest member -- was that right, 'newest'? It was getting harder to tell. At any rate -- that he was giving Aliani strange glances periodically did not escape the playwright's notice. For now, at least, he ignored it, walking at a brisk pace towards the castle. It was probably going to be a long night.