Darnassian architecture did not suit the Gilneans, who were a private people. Not enough walls. (Though, considering the trouble building walls had gotten them into, one would think the Gilneans would be a bit more tolerant.)

Night elves seemed to think that the only thing necessary for something to qualify as a building was the roof. Now, granted, they had the kind of balmy weather that permitted for that. Rain was infrequent, often in the form of showers that started abruptly, lasted a few minutes and stopped just as suddenly.

Lady Walden had acquired a small home in a part of the Craftsmen's Terrace that was farthest away from the Howling Oak. The missing wall was replaced by a heavy blue velvet curtain. On the bench in front of the house, a dark gray worgen clad in old, dented armor sat, cradling a rifle over his shoulder.

As Evelyn and Charlie approached, he gave them a long look, his beady eyes dismissing Evelyn, pausing slightly over the mastiff at Charlie's side, and stopping to rest on the hunter.

"Well-wishers coming to visit Lady Walden?" the worgen rumbled.

"No," Evelyn replied tartly, "investigators coming to question her about a crime. And you would be...?"

The worgen grinned, exposing his long, jagged rows of teeth even further.

"Nathaniel Greer, Miss...?"

"Evelyn Swift. I am here on behalf of Miss Gwen Armstead and the Darnassus Sentinels." She gestured vaguely over her shoulder and added: "This is Charlie."

"Hrm," was the only thing Nathaniel Greer said to this.

A woman poked her head out between the curtains, a night elf with bright green hair.

"May I help you?" she asked, her voice sounding young (though with night elves, it was always difficult to tell.)

"I am looking for Lady Beatrice Walden," Evelyn said.

"You said you were here on behalf of the Sentinels?" the girl said, stepping out completely.

"You heard right," Evelyn nodded.

The girl gave a look over her shoulder.

"Alright. Alright, I'll announce you."

She disappeared behind the curtain.

Evelyn exchanged puzzled looks with Charlie.

After an unexpectedly long stretch of time, the girl came out again and waved them in. Charlie did not follow, however.

"You go talk to her," he huffed. "I'm no good with blue bloods."

Evelyn inclined her head in acknowledgment, but did not comment. The room had no windows, being instead lit by two bright white lamps. There was another partition to the house, this one with a door that looked newly-installed, but the room she stepped in was sparsely decorated with only a divan, two chairs, a low table and a small rug. As she stepped past the curtain, she noticed faintly glowing runes carved into the floor, parallel to the entrance. Her gaze lingered on them only a moment, however, before she looked up and met her host.

Lady Walden might once have been a beautiful woman, but the sharp angles of her face indicated she lost a lot of weight recently. Her natural pallor, once a mark of beauty, now made her look sickly and emphasized the bags under her eyes. Her hair was coiffed perfectly, however, not a hair escaping her bun, and her dark green dress was embroidered with complicated images of interweaving rose vines; clearly an expensive garment, just on account of that complicated embroidery. Dark, narrow eyes peered at Evelyn inquisitively.

"Allow me to introduce myself," she started in a pompous tone, extending her hand as if expecting Evelyn to kiss it. "Lady Beatrice Walden."

Evelyn would have wanted to give some sardonic reply, such as "you don't say? Then this must mean I didn't stumble into someone else's house by accident!", but instead, she gave Lady Walden a firm handshake. The Lady was startled by this gesture, as it was something she'd probably only seen common men and women do, and she stared at her hand in puzzlement for a moment.

"Evelyn Swift. I'm Mayor—er, Miss Armstead's aide." Evelyn bit the inside of her cheek; she kept having to remind herself that Gwen Armstead was no longer a mayor in the traditional sense. "I am currently assisting the Sentinels of Darnassus on a certain matter."

"Ah—of course. Yashine said as much," Lady Walden said knowingly. "My servant, Yashine Longarrow," she clarified at Evelyn's confused look. "She was the one to show you in."

"Yes, a curious girl. You keep night elven servants?"

"Gilnean servants wouldn't have me," Lady Walden said with forced cheerfulness.

Evelyn made herself chuckle at the joke, poor though it was. There was nothing quite as pitiable as disgraced nobility.

"I noticed you studying the runes," Lady Walden changed the subject suddenly, gesturing to the floor.

"Oh, yes. I was just wondering about their function," Evelyn said.

"They merely block sound," Lady Walden explained. "For privacy; I cannot stand these elven houses."

"It's a common sentiment," Evelyn said neutrally.

"Well—this is the first thing I did when I moved in here," Lady Walden continued.

"You did the runes yourself?"

"A small dose of arcane talent runs in my family," Lady Walden said with false modesty and a note of pride in her voice. "My mother would have wanted to go to Dalaran and study, but that was not meant to be."

"I take it she married your father instead?" Evelyn surmised.

"She did," Lady Walden shrugged. "But she continued her studies into the arcane anyway, albeit discretely. She initiated me into magic when I grew older. There was a time when I would have fancied studying in Dalaran myself," she added.

"Yet you married Lord Walden instead," Evelyn said.

Lady Walden's expression darkened.

"You aren't here about him, are you?" she asked coldly.

"Not at all. About a night elf, actually. Felaenus Creeksong."

Evelyn watched Lady Walden's expression closely, but the woman's emotionless mask was impenetrable. Such were the hazards of interrogating nobles. They were taught from the time they were in swaddles how to hide their feelings.

"He is dead," Evelyn said bluntly. "Murdered." She thought she saw the flicker of surprise on Lady Walden, but she could just as well have imagined it.

"It is regrettable, then," Lady Walden said. "Send my condolences to his family."

"So you knew him," Evelyn said.

"He ran a few errands for me," Lady Walden replied.

"And when did you see him last?"

"Oh, I don't know. Three days ago?"

"Under what circumstances?"

Lady Walden sighed dramatically and sat down on the divan. She generously indicated a chair to Evelyn, which she accepted.

"If you must know, he broke an agreement," Lady Walden said. "I had tasked him with recovering a family heirloom for me."

"Recover it from where?"

"Gilneas, of course."

Evelyn raised an eyebrow at this.

"Gilneas being in the state it is, I could hardly go there myself!"

"And he refused?"

"Oh, he accepted at first. He told me he'd leave Darnassus for the Eastern Kingdoms soon, anyway. He promised to give it his best effort. Then, three days ago, he came and said he wouldn't do anything for me anymore."

"What prompted this?"

"Oh, I don't know," Lady Walden scowled. "Ask Greer, that worthless sack of fleas outside."

"Nathaniel Greer?"

"Yes, my bodyguard." The word dripped with disgust.

"I—I don't quite understand," Evelyn admitted. "If you dislike the man, why hire him?"

"'Man'!" Lady Walden scoffed. "Barely! But he's the only one I can afford. Other Gilneans avoid me or ask for ridiculous prices and the night elves—well, let's just say that the last night elf I hired to protect me was as useful as a lump of dirt."

Evelyn raised an eyebrow at the noblewoman's dark tone.

"And what was this heirloom you asked Felaenus to recover?" she asked, returning to the subject at hand.

"Nothing much. A trinket. A necklace of my mother's," Lady Walden answered with a vague gesture.

"Yet you were willing to send someone all the way back to Gilneas for it."

Lady Walden glared at Evelyn icily.

"My husband was a disgrace, Miss Swift," Lady Walden said slowly. "He was an impressionable man with no spine, eager to jump off whatever cliff Godfrey pointed towards. My father was not much better than my husband, but my mother! She was a wonder! She could have been the most powerful sorceress of her generation given the chance! Yet she languished in obscurity in order to give her worthless husband heirs so the family name would get passed on! Nobody will remember her as anything other than Lady Hendrick but for me! I will remember her properly, for the powers and the potential she possessed."

Evelyn leaned back during this diatribe, speechless.

"Now, as I was saying," Lady Walden continued in a lighter voice, "Greer."

"What about him?" Evelyn asked, finding her voice again.

"I think he was the one who convinced Felaenus to break his word."

"Why would he do that?"

"To torment me, perhaps," Lady Walden said with a scowl. "All I know is that they spent a lot of time together, drinking and carousing with those other worgen friends of his."

"What worgen friends?"

"Those lackeys of Lord Crowley. The ones in the Gilnean Liberation Front."

"Some call those 'lackeys of Lord Crowley' heroes," Evelyn remarked dryly.

Lady Walden made a sharp gesture, like swatting away an annoying fly.

"Just talk to Greer. He's probably the one who killed Felaenus, anyway."

"Now why would he do that?"

"Does he need a reason? You know how worgen are; a savage lot."

"Oh, I don't think we're that bad," Evelyn said lightly.

Lady Walden froze at the use of the plural pronoun. She probably did not guess that Evelyn was affected by the curse as well—not all Gilneans were—and now she was probably floundering for some way to correct her faux pas.

"Thank you for your cooperation, Lady Walden," Evelyn said before the woman had time to gather herself. "Good day."

She stepped out without waiting for a response.