(06) - Of Daggers and Shoe Leather

Griffonclaw was enjoying both the mead and the Night Elvin dancer who was occupying the top of the next table over in Whitebrick's Bar and Grill. The dancer was not part of the usual staff, and the proprietor - a genial if stern Gnome named Gindotto - was quite obviously trying to figure out whether or not he'd make more money from the spectacle, or whether or not it might cut into the work of his own employees. before he could make his decision, though, Griffonclaw's attention was taken by a new arrival, wearing the livery of the Cathedral of Light and bearing a message baton. Young noviates where often used by the church officials to run errands and bear messages, but it was obvious by the way this youth's jaw hit the ground he'd rarely been out of the confines of the Cathedral region.

A quick glance around proved Griffonclaw's suspicion that he was the only one likely to get the message, and swiftly debated exiting while the youth was distracted... but while it might be fun to lead him a merry chase across the city, it would only delay the inevitable. Instead, he got over and crossed to the messenger, where he still stood in the door, and waved his hand in front of the messenger's eyes to get his attention.

"Are you looking for me, fellow?" he asked, an amused smirk on his face.

"Umm....if you are Griffonclaw FitzSilver, I am." he said, pulling himself together. "Excuse me, Griffonclaw. His Grace, Bishop DeLavey asked me to approach you so that might be able to help him with a delicate matter. He would like for you to speak to him at your earliest convenience, I'm sure he would appreciate your help. Again, please be discreet. It is a matter of some importance."

"Very well. Please tell His Grace that I shall attend him shortly" responded Griffonclaw. The idea of an audience with Bishop DeLavey, the officer of the Cathedral who, more than anyone, wanted Griffonclaw expelled from his Order and declared excommunicate from the Church was nothing to which to look forward, but as Arthur the Faithful had told him
repeatedly in his own noviature "When you spill a glass of wine, it does no good waiting, just watching the mess get bigger".

The walk across from the Park district to the Cathedral district was pleasant. The sun was shining brightly, the birds from the Park were active and chattering, and happy children played among the piled detritus from the recent assault on the city by the dragon Teremus the Devourer. The dragon had made a pact with Dux of the Horde, a mange-eaten old Warlord long past his strength and youth, and the dragon had attacked, focusing his attention on the Trade District. Although Griffonclaw had been in Stranglevale at the time, the Hammer of Magni, along with many others, had engaged the dragon - Aarien, a Night Elvin warrior of some skill had kept the attention of the beast focused on her while others attacked it with spell, claw, and steel. The dragon had fallen under the onslaught, with Rynna the Warlock's arcane power striking the final, fatal blow.

Griffonclaw entered the Cathedral, and was immediately shown into the Bishop's privy office. Griffonclaw greeted DeLavey with all the courtesy protocol demanded, and no more, remaining silent, forcing DeLavey to speak first.

"Recently a diplomat was sent to Theramore to meet with Jaina Proudmoore. That diplomat never arrived," began the Bishop. "I believe the Defias are involved in this plot, but I'm not sure how. The diplomat's disappearance still eludes public attention, but it can't remain that way for long."

"Agents of the king are already scouring the city for clues," he continued, "but I have my own contacts I would like involved. These are delicate matters, and may have repercussions for the Cathedral. Are you willing to assist me in these matters?"

Griffonclaw thought for a second, weighing the alternatives. Technically, the Bishop had no right to ask Griffonclaw for assistance, as Griffonclaw was suspended from both his Order and the Church; however, a successful confidential mission would go a long way towards repairing the damage recent events had caused his career.

He nodded, accepting the Bishop's charge.

"Excellent. In the Valley of Heroes is an old friend of mine named Jorgen. Find him, give him this note, and follow his instructions," finished DeLavey, and turned back to his desk. Griffonclaw was obviously - if somewhat rudely - dismissed.

The Valley of Heroes was the name given to the deep artificial lake across which the main
bridge to enter Stormwind spanned. There were paths that led down to the waterline from the outer gate, and Griffonclaw knew from past experience that the fishing there was excellent. Indeed, he found his quarry there, rod in hand, a bucket of caught fish by his feet.

Griffonclaw handed him th enote from the Bishop, and patiently waited while the other fellow read it, his lips silently moving as he scanned the contents. Jorgen finished reading the note, and re-sealed it, tucking the flap of the envelope underneath the edge. Turning to Griffonclaw, he said "Take this here note to Elling Trias. Don't say nothin' else to him. Just be polite and wait for him to respond. And don't worry, he will."

"I'm gonna only impress this on ya once more: treat this matter seriously, and keep your yapper shut" he continued. Griffonclaw remained quiet, but was offended at Jorgen's manner - as if Griffonclaw needed a reminder of the nature of a confidential investigation! "Ya can find Trias at his cheese shop, Trias' Cheese, in the Trade District. Good luck." And with that, Jorgen went back to his fishing.

Griffonclaw knew the shop in question; he had often been there, picking up fresh wheels of various flavors for guild meetings and other events. The Elling family both made and imported fine cheeses from all over. Returning to the city, he was dismayed again to see all the damage wrought by that reptilian monstrosity, and felt a rare pang of envy that he hadn't been able to strike a blow in Stormwind's defense.

Stepping around rubble and other damage - both form the dragon's carnage and from the mages who had dealt with the rampant fires afterwards - he found Trias on the loft above the shop area, writing his supplies for replacement supplies. Trias had been one of the first merchants to step forward with donating supplies for those who had been burned out, or had family members killed, or who worked long hours limiting and then repairing the damages done in the conflagration.

Trias looked up and smiled when he saw his customer... and frowned when Griffonclaw wordlessly handed him the envelope. He swiftly read the contents, muttering "Jorgen, you ol' sonuva.... So, that's how it's going to be, huh?...All right, I can deal with that. I hope he finds the Twisting Nether that much sooner!"

He looked up, and addressed Griffonclaw. "Here's what's gonna happen, Griff. I'll start using my contacts here, but you're doing most of the footwork so I save some coin."

"Head to Darkshire in Duskwood," he continued, "and find Watcher Backus -- he usually patrols the north road right outside of town. Just tell him you're looking into any Defias activity for me and he'll help you out with any information he can."

"Watcher Backus. Got it." Griffonclaw confirmed, with a nod.

"Oh, and Griffonclaw?" Trias added as Griffonclaw headed for the stairs. "Do be careful, and trust nobody. The Defias have a lot of coin to spread about, and a lot of people look the other way for a consideration."

Griffonclaw nodded. "I promise. I won't even trust you..." He added a grin to remove any offense, but Trias nodded gravely.

Griffonclaw walked to the griffon flight post in Stormwind, where he spoke with Dungar Longdrink to obtain one of his griffons for a flight to Darkshire, in the Duskwood. Dungar gave him Bloodflower, one of the more spirited of his charges, and Griffonclaw's favorite. Griffonclaw would often come down to the griffon pens with Dungar, sharing ale and perhaps a meal, bringing raw meat as a special treat for the well-trained beasts.

Griffons were perhaps the bravest, most intelligent fliers - besides dragons - in Azeroth, and he admired their sleek beauty, strength, and ferocity. Bloodflower was delighted to serve, especially after Grioffonclaw tossed him the snack of mutton he'd bought on the way.

The Duskwood was a large forest just north of the Stranglethorn Vale, protected on the south side by mountains with a single pathway. Once a place of peace and prosperity, the village of Darkshire and its environs had found themselves under seige by evil necromancy and undead. Many of the farmsteads now served as bases of operations for Worgen or undead, and the woods were perilous for the casual traveler. The roads were kept open only through the diligence of the Night Watch, who patrolled day and night - not that there was much difference in the haunted region.

Griffonclaw landed in Darkshire and spoke with Commander Ebonlock; he had served under her command for a stretch, lending his blade and Light to the cause of reducing the undead infestation of the Raven Hill Cemetary, and putting to rest the necromantic experimentations of Stalvan. She told him where she had assigned Backus today, his usual stretch from the town norht along the road to Lakeshire. Griffonclaw thanked her and hit the road, soon finding the Watcher.

Once Backus was told that Trias had sent Griffonclaw, and why, he was forthcoming. "Defias activity?" he pondered. "Well, there's always some activity; even if they keep to themselves we consider them a threat."

"But now that I think about it," Backus continued, "there was a recent sighting that seemed odd. It must have been a couple weeks ago, but some of their agents had gathered around Addle's Stead. From the report, I'd guessed something big went down."

"You don't know what it was?" asked Griffonclaw.

"I reported my suspicions to Althea" he said, using the Commander's first name. "But she
makes the assignments, and I don't know if anyone followed up or not. But hey, if you're curious, why don't you check there first and bring me back anything you find?"

Griffonclaw nodded, and headed for the Steading.

Addle's Stead was on the south side of the road to Westfall, and in dangerous territory. It had been abandoned by its tenants when the darkness fell upon the Duskwood. Griffonclaw approached it carefully and slowly - he would not underestimate the Defias agents who were using it as a base of operations only to end up with an envenomed dagger in his back.

Addle's Stead was backed up against the mountains, with the main house and barn both facing north. The fields were fallow, and long weeds gave mute testimony to the neglect.
Members of the Defias were patroling casually through the grounds, with guards in front of both the barn and the house.

Tempting though it was to go charging forward, Griffonclaw was wary - the Defias were notorious for using stealth and ambush, and he suspected that the guards he could see were only the beginning of those actually on station, hidden in the grass or other concealment. Griffonclaw crawled through the brush slowly, alert for any sound or sight which might indicate a concealed enemy.

The back of the barn and house had guards as well... but each was out of sight of the other. Griffonclaw waited until the house guard was at the furthest point from his patrol, and leaped from concealment, bringing his blade around in a deadly arc. The Defias mage turned at the motion, only to see her final momemts before the edge bit, the heavy moonsteel blade bisect her face into a ruinous mass.

Griffonclaw wiped his blade clean on the corpse's cloak, and found a window. The glass pane was already cracked, and using his dagger Griffonclaw managed to jimmy the window open and heave himself up and inside. The house was eerie and quiet. Griffonclaw moved from room to room, careful to not arouse the suspicions of the guards outside the front door.

The bottom floor was empty, except for a pattern in the dust leading to the staircase to the second floor. Griffonclaw, moonsteel sword at the ready, slowly climbed the stairs, keeping his feet close to the sides of the stairboards, where they were less likely to creak.

The Defias were using one of the bedrooms as an office and makeshift barracks, and there was what appeared by his robes to be a mage bent over a desk, scribing a letter.

Griffonclaw moved around to behind the man, ready to bring his sword down should he be discovered; the mage was too engrossed in his work to notice. Once close enough and directly behind, Griffonclaw grasped his broadsword two-handed, and sent it forward with a powerful lunge. The point entered at the base of the mage's neck, and the razor-sharp steel moved forward almost effortlessly. The mage tried to stand and turn, and the force of his motion twisted the blade through his neck, decapitating him.

Next to the writing desk was a strongbox, but a quick search of the mage's body uncovered the key. Inside the strongbox was an oilskin pouch filled with orders and communications from the Defias, and it went into Griffonclaw's pack.

Griffonclaw swiftly left the house, and began the crawl through the brush back to the main road. A few minutes later, shouts from the house indicated that his invasive journey had been discovered, and he abandoned all pretense of steath, sprinting away as the Defias guards converged on the house to investigate.

He returned to Watcher Backus, and turned over the document pouch for his examination. "Whoa, this looks way too complex to be something to just lead you astray," he commented. "I shouldn't even be looking at this stuff. Take it to Trias -- he'll be able to make sense of it. And don't let anyone get in your way. This is bigger than me. It might even be bigger than him, but we'll see."

Griffonclaw nodded, as Backus continued, "And do me a favor, Griffonclaw, don't tell anyone I helped you. If my superiors found out I knew about any of this and didn't share it with them they'd probably hang me. "

"Given that its Duskwood, they might have to hank you twice - just to make sure you stay dead..." commented Griffonclaw with a wry smile. "But I won't say a thing. Fare you well, friend."

Back in Stormwind, Trias examined the documents, talking to himself in a low voice... "Hmmm... Yeah, now that I think about it... Dashel... Dashel something... What was his name? FIST! Dashel Stonefist." He looked up to address Griffonclaw more directly. "These papers indicate that a dwarf named Dashel Stonefist might be able to help us with our inquiries. They call him Fist in some circles -- probably on account that he likes to get in
brawls."

"You can find him in Old Town usually -- right smack dab in the center of it," he continued. "Go talk to him. If you have to, use a sword or something heavy and blunt to persuade him to open up some. And don't hesitate. If he's in this as deep as these papers suggest, then he's not going to give you any information willingly."

"And if he won't give me anything, no matter how I 'persuade' him?" asked Griffonclaw.

"Then I suppose you'll have to use your own judgement..." answered Trias vaguely, although his meaning was clear enough. If Stonefist wasn't forthcoming, Trias wanted Griffonclaw to kill him.

Griffonclaw crossed the canal into the Old Town district, and began to stop in taverns and wine shops, dropping some silver on the counter for an ale, and a few more silver coins as necessary for some information. A few hours later he caught up with Stonefist outside of a wine shop, in a tiny courtyard.

"Yee've kept me waiting, Master Griffonclaw" the short rogue greeted him. "Your clumsy attempts to locate me made me curious... Yeah, you're obviously not the smartest warrior to come into Old Town, but you're about to be one of the dumbest to never leave."

Two human brutes, of the type whose large, muscular hands obviously spent a great deal of time hammering into faces and stretching across windpipes, emerged from dark corners of the courtyard.

"Have you met me friends?" asked Stonefist genially, his tone belied by the eager, sadistic look on his face.

"No, but any friends of yours..." Griffonclaw commented, spinning rapidly and moving sideways to being him outside of their enclosing circle. They shifted to face him and all three charged - but this wasn't some half-trained rogue they were trying to beat into
submission. Griffonclaw ignored their incoming blows - he was wearing Green Iron of his own crafting, and it had served proof against worse things than human hands - and kicked out sideways at one of the lead thug's kneecaps. The human kneecap can take a lot of punishment head-on, but almost none from the side, and Griffonclaw smiled grimly to himself as he heard the faint popping noise, followed almost immediately by the fellow's screams of agony.

Absorbing a few punches, Griffonclaw rotated his left foot behind and pivoted sharply right, where the other human thug had given up on fists and was drawing a pair of daggers from his belt.

Mailed fist drove into his unprotected nose, and blood fountained as the thug lost all interest except in his maimed face. Griffonclaw felt Stonefist's legs land in the back of his own knees as the dwarf grabbed his armor, using his leverage to bring Griffonclaw to the ground. Griffonclaw hit hard, and Stonefist took advantage to pick up a cobblestone from the ground and slammed it hard several times against Griffonclaw's visor.

Griffonclaw could see how this diminuative brawler could be quite effective against normal enemies, within the confines of the city, but Griffonclaw had trained in wrestling and fisticuffs with Windsor, his Elder Brother in the Hammer of Magni, and was well-versed in the tactics used by the dwarves against a taller opponent. A well-placed knee dislodged Stonefist from his perch, and rather than waste time standing Girffonclaw used a foot-sweeping manuever to push him away, and moved to a crouch, drawing his Moonsteel Broadsword at the same time.

His two thugs disabled and moaning, and facing five feet of gleaming blade, Stonefist had a change of attitude. Griffonclaw posed his questions, and he had answers.

"So yeah... um... I might know something 'bout that meeting at Addle's Stead." he began. "Happened a few weeks back I think. I really didn't have any part in it. Me part was done when plan A failed... damn adventurers. The guy we got on the inside for plan B came out of Menethil; guy called Slim. That's all I know regarding their backup plan."

"Are you sure that's all you know?" pressed Griffonclaw, his point resting lightly in the hollow of Stonefist's neck. "Absolutely sure?"

"May the Light strike me down if I lie!" proclaimed Stonefist piously.

"Thats what I had in mind, yes" said Griffonclaw as he removed the blade from Stonefist's throat, and suddenly lunged forward, striking the dwarf unconscious with the hilt.

He eyed the two thugs, still rolling around and moaning, one clutching his face, and the other his knee. He debated using the Light to ease their suffering, to mend the broken bones and flesh...

"Nah..." he said as he left the courtyard to return to Trias.

Griffonclaw returned to the griffon flight roost by way of the butcher shop, carrying another treat for Bloodflower, and a tall bottle of mead for Longdrink. Another flight, this time over the mountains to Menethil Harbor, where he stopped at the Deepwater Inn to speak to Mikhail; if there was any scheming plot afoot, Mikhail was sure to know of it.

When confronted, Mikhail didn't even try to hide his involvement; Griffonclaw had clashed with him before, and he knew that it would be pointless to dissemble.

"The Defias didn't pay me well enough to die for their cause. They took the king. Yeah, the king of Stormwind, not some lowly diplomat. He was on his way to Theramore to meet with Jaina Proudmore--it was a big deal apparently, and a big secret. But it's not just the Defias that are involved. They're working with someone. I think they knew this was bigger than them.

My part was just to get their man on board the king's ship while it was in the harbor. The guy's name was Hendel. That's all I know. I swear!"

"Trias will be happy to hear you are so... co-operative" commented Griffonclaw casually, watching Mikhail's reaction carefully.

"You say Elling sent you here? Well then, the hospitality I expressed is now tenfold. Anything you need, just ask. I will do my best to aid you. Hmm, Slim, you say? Not sure the name sounds familiar, but I'll keep my eyes out for him. Don't look now, Griffonclaw, but the gentleman over by the exit is looking over here. He's listening to our conversation a little too intently if you catch my meaning? If I were you, I'd do what you can to subdue him before he makes a break for the door."

Griffonclaw turned to look, which turned out to be precisely the wrong thing to do - having been identified, the fellow leaped to his feet and ran for the door. Cursing, Griffonclaw followed, but the mail which had served him so well in the Old Town district of Stormwind betrayed him now, slowing his speed. He hit the inn doors just in time to see "Slim" sprint past the fletcher's wagon, on his way to the front gate. Griffonclaw started off in pursuit, only to watch the fleeing felon buckle over in agony, enveloped in a black and purple nimbus of energy.

Griffonclaw quickly reached the fellow, and looked around... and spotted a warlock near the Alchemist's door, a smirk on her face. She walked slowly, sensuously over to them, and said "Tch tch tch... you Bubble Boys really should learn to use some subtlety... "

"What part of THIS is subtle, Desmorta?" Griffonclaw asked, as always uncomfortable in her presence. Desmorta was an officer of the Hammer of Magni, and had a penchant for showing up in odd places, at strange times. She was unabashedly hedonistic and self-indulgent, and had made her disdain for paladins of the Order abundantly clear
- and visa versa. Her very presence seemed to question every Rule those of the Order stood for - and as Griffonclaw himself was already questioning those, her presence both enticed him, made him exceedingly nervous.

"If any Warlock worth their salt had been sent to apprehend him, he'd have gladly co-operated, and thus the... crudeness of this method wouldn't have been necessary" she opined. "Five minutes with a succubus and most men would sell their mothers for another five minutes.... " she looked at him speculatively.

"...although some Paladins might last ten, perhaps even fifteen minutes."

She narrowed her eyes to a sultry look, and pitched her voice low enough to be... disturbing. "Care to try and see how long you you can last, Griffonclaw?"

"Ahem... if you'll release this fellow, I can get on with my work" replied Griffonclaw stiffly. He would have achieved a very dignified, formal tone if his voice hadn't cracked at the beginning.

"Oh pooh, you're just No Fun," she declared. "But here, have your dreary little fugitive - I have other fish to fry. After all, a Warlock's work is never done..."

"...let alone THE Warlock's" he finished for her, having heard the boast before.

"Exactly" she said, and released her victim from his wracking pain. Griffonclaw watched her head to the griffon pens, admiring the sway to her hips and the.... he shook his head. She always managed to bring out things, thoughts, of which the Order definitely disapproved.

Griffonclaw dragged the fellow - who was Taphoke Jahn, known to his confederates as "Slim" - back to the Inn, where Mikhail gave him more information.

"The beginning of every month the Kul Tiras Marines all get paid and usually leave Theramore for somewhere else. A lot of them come here to womanize, carouse, and just have a good time. One of those groups I'd consider regulars here at the tavern, and I believe this Hendel is among them. Commander Samaul in Theramore would be able to help you find him if Hendel's still stationed there. He's completely loyal to Proudmoore, but if you drop Elling's name, he should help you out... discretely."

"Do the DeLavey a favor, and see the world..." Griffonclaw mumbled on his way to the docks. There were several regular merchant ship which brought supplies to Theremore, and passengers both ways; with luck he'd be able to catch one.

Luck was with him, and he leaped aboard just as the vessel was leaving the docks. Luck deserted him shortly thereafter, and he spent most of the crossing at the rail, emptying his stomach over the stern. This was not Griffonclaw's first crossing to Durotar, but he didn't travel the seas with equanimity.

Griffonclaw set foot on the docks of Theramore with feelings of excessive affection for the city - and for any city which allowed him to escape the seas. He presented himself at Theremore Keep, and it wasn't too long to wait before he was ushered in to see Commander Samaul.

"Hendel? Yes, I know the man. But why would you need one of my soldiers?"

"Elling Trias sent me, milord... on a matter of some confidence" replied Griffonclaw, remembering Trias' directive to trust no one.

"Elling sent you to find him? Hmm, I don't like the sound of that. Elling wouldn't have you come to me first if your business wasn't troubling." Commander Samaul thought a few seconds more. "I understand if you can't tell me what this is about, but know this: I have a duty to protect these lands. If you're going to cause a disturbance, then I suggest you inform me of whatever you can."

"Yes milord" answered Griffonclaw without hesitation. While he had no real intention of telling the Commander anything of substance, he would also not keep back information that might save himself from being arrested by the Theramore military.

"I believe Hendel was stationed at the first tower outside of Theramore. Be cautious" said the Commander, dismissing him.

As Griffonclaw made his way from Keep to the main gate, he was struck at what a pleasant place Theramore was, especially when compared to Stormwind. A bit more of a "military" camp, yes, but less crowded, and more relaxed, with a sense of community.

Outside the gates the land was Dustwallow Marsh, home to several tribes of Murlocs and at least one clan of Ogres. The roads - at least as far as Theramore's outer patrols - were safe enough, but those foolish enough to wander the swamps and marshes were soon never heard from again, whether from giant spiders, murlocs, ogres, or fierce crocolisks.

The first tower was approximately a quarter-mile down the road from Theramore, and was the base of operations for the road patrols. Griffonclaw made some inquiries, and was sent to speak to Jaina Proudmore's Archmage, Tervosh, who was inspecting the garrison.

"Private Hendel is to the west of here. He's currently on guard duty protecting some of Theramore's infiltrators while they rest. They've been keeping tabs on the Horde base, Brackenwall, and looking for anything else that might threaten our borders" the mage informed Griffonclaw. "You should have no problem finding him; just look for the tents along the road."

"I have another matter to attend to, but I shall catch up to you soon enough" he continued. "You can always find me in the Lady Proudmoore's tower if you have any problems."

Griffonclaw sighed, disappointed. He had hoped to finally be able to resolve this with the arrest of Private Hendel. Back to his feet, he continued down the road to the second tower, very near to the Horde community. As the Archmage had predicted, he found Private Hendel having breakfast at a campfire among the tents, with his compatriots.

"Private Hendel, I come from Stormwind, where there are allegations that you have been conspiring with the Defias Brotherhood" charged Griffonclaw formally. "I have been sent to take you back to answer those charges."

"What?!" exclaimed Hendel, outraged. " You come here accusing me of allying with the Defias, and think I'll just stand here while you insult me?!" And with no warning, he drew his service blade and dagger from scabbards and attacked fiercely.

Griffonclaw pulled his own blade over his shoulder, still scabbarded, in time to ward himself from both blades. Meeting Hendel's charge, he rammed his shoulder low and lifted up, knocking Hendel backwards into the cooking fire. He drew his scabbard off as Hendel regained his footing.

Opening pleasantries exchanged, they circled each other, looking for openings.

"This will be the last time you you ever see Theremore" Hendel snarled, lunging forward. Griffonclaw swung his own blade in a sweeping outside motion, catching the longsword and moving it out of line, and then riposted with lunging straight thrust. His move, which
opened his right side up completely to Hendel's dagger, caught Hendel by surprise, and that look of surprise froze on his face as the point punched through mail and leather on both sides of his body, impaling him like a bug on a stick.

And in return, Hendel's dagger buried itself in his side. Griffonclaw fell to his knees, feeling
his blood gush from the wide, deep wound, but he was already mumbling the prayer for a swift Flash of Light.

Holy energy fillled his fingers, and he gripped the dagger, removing it before touching his fingertips to the wound. Light drained from his fingers into the wound, knitting flesh and regenerating the lost blood.

Griffonclaw stood, and found himself under arrest. He surrendered his own blade, and allowed himself to be led under guard back to Theremore. At his own insistance, Archmage Tervosh was summoned to take him into custody.

Tervosh took one look at Griffonclaw and Hendel's body, and turned to the arresting Officer. "Lieutentant, I have seen the evidence convicting Hendel, and Griffonclaw was within his rights as a Defender of the Light to place the traitor under arrest." He dismissed the guards, who returned Griffonclaw's sword to him.

"I assure you, we're all quite upset about current events, but allow us to take him back to
Theramore for some questioning, and we'll see about finding the King" assured the Archmage. "I'm sure my Lady Proudmore would like to thank you for your help. Speak to her when you have a moment."

Griffonclaw thanked him, and after a bath and some polishing of his armor presented himself for an audience with Lady Proudmore. He was immediately summoned into her presence, and knelt in front of her with all due dignity and reverence.

"Oh, please don't... " she said, pulling him up with her own hands. "I may rule here, but I'm not royalty ". Griffonclaw stood. She was as tall as he was, and beautiful, with sapphire-blue eyes and golden shoulder-length hair. Her gown, of white mageweave, clung to his form, and he felt abashed and shy in her presence.

"Tervosh tells me that we owe you a great deal, Griffonclaw. Thank you for exposing a traitor in our midst". She took a signet ring from her finger, and, taking his hand, slipped it on his own. "This ring shall serve as proof that you have performed a signal service for Theremore - it tells those in my service that you are to be trusted, and will give you access to me in time of need, regardless of what petty courtiers might say." She smiled.

"Let us hope that you never need to use it - but if you have need, do not hesitate."