The air in the hall hung heavy with unspoken tension. Aleric's impatient sigh, a barely audible sound, cut through the silence, gaze swept across their faces, each one a microcosm of the anxiety that gnawed at him. He saw the agitation, the barely concealed indifference towards Ysabel, a young woman whose fate was inextricably bound to their own. He understood their apprehension; he, too, wrestled with doubts about the path they had chosen, a path paved with risk and uncertainty. Perhaps, he mused, it had been pity, a misguided sense of compassion, that had softened his resolve, swayed him towards extending a hand to the girl.
"King Quilter Wesmos is already aware of our existence."
Elvin began, his voice a low murmur, his hands nervously twisting a worn quilt on the table.
"Cunning enough to send one of his vassals to scout this very place."
Hector, his brow furrowed in thought, leaned back in his chair.
"That's to be expected. We've expanded our expeditions considerably these past few months." His words held the weight of unspoken consequences.
Gren, his face etched with a deep scowl, slammed his fist on the table.
"Given that, we're hardly prepared for whatever comes next. Let the King notice Lord Ferdin's absence, and he'll send more soldiers, perhaps. And we all know those Royals will stop at nothing to prevent Vahlkiro from rising to power."
Aleric's lips tightened into a thin line. He met Gren's gaze, his own eyes unwavering.
"There will be no such thing. We will send him his puppet. And if he demands proof of Vahlkiro's existence, we shall provide it." His voice was calm, yet laced with an undeniable authority. "We will walk right to Wesmos's door."
A gasp escaped Elvin's lips. He shot upright in his chair, his eyes wide with disbelief. "You jest! What happened to operating in the shadows? You'll be throwing us to the lions!"
Aleric's head tilted slightly, a hint of amusement playing on his lips.
"Wesmos is no lion, Elvin. More like a pig, if you ask me." He stretched his neck, his tone nonchalant, almost mocking.
Elvin, his frustration evident, clenched his fists.
"You know what I mean, Sir Aleric!" His voice was strained, his patience wearing thin.
Aleric watched Elvin, a flicker of fascination in his eyes.
"I have no intention of needlessly endangering our people. If we release Lord Ferdin, he'll talk. And having infiltrated Dydilah, he must have a good idea of the town's population. Dydilah itself might be secure, but that's not my primary concern."
Elvin bit back a retort, recognizing the validity of Aleric's point. The revelation of Vahlkiro's resurgence would spread like wildfire, setting the Royals on edge. They would inevitably alert the High Church, inviting unwanted scrutiny and interference.
Hector clapped Elvin on the back, trying to soothe his agitation.
"Don't fret yourself over those royal shits, Elvin. We haven't come this far, slogged through all this mud, only to have some pompous faggot ruin everything again." Elvin, however, remained unconvinced, his glare fixed on Hector.
Aleric continued, his voice cutting through the lingering tension.
"We will take Lord Ferdin to Wesmos. From there, we'll travel outside Edorian territory. We'll meet someone there."
Gren, his mismatched eyes reflecting a mixture of apprehension and determination, spoke. "When do we leave?"
"The day after tomorrow, at dusk,"
Aleric replied, his voice firm.
"Half the Umbra will travel with us; the rest will remain to guard Dydilah and Tyverah. Ysabel—"
Ysabel blinked, startled by the mention of her name. All eyes turned to her.
Aleric's gaze met hers, his expression unreadable. "You're coming with us." The words hung in the air, leaving Ysabel speechless, while a subtle smile played on Lilah's lips.