Ulrich considered himself an old man, and when he had first realized just who the young woman striding through the archives was all those years ago he had hardly dared hope he would live long enough to see her Ascend. The fact that he had somehow become a part of her Council, that despite the horrible things he had done and turned a blind eye to over the years he was still trusted, still granted that chance to help rebuild their nation and faith, would never not be something he gave daily thanks for.

The other daily thanks was for his latest student, because Karal was a treasure, and his scholarly inclinations gave Ulrich excellent bragging opportunities when Seras started waxing a little too poetic about his own apprentice. It was unfortunate the two boys had never really hit it off, Karal was a little too reliant on the quiet, utterly academic scholar image he projected and Etrius was swerving far more into the utterly unflappable intimidating stare-down school of diplomacy. They at least tolerated one another and exchanged tips on sources and citations, so he was hopeful that could be built upon one of these days. His student needed allies, after all, even if it wasn't quite so dire as it would have been a few years ago.

Knowing Solaris was coming into power had eased his conscience so very much when he'd finally managed to properly claim the boy he'd had dreams of. With his being a Channel, Karal would have been so very useful to so very many people Ulrich would rather kill the boy than leave him in the company of, and utterly safe from any sort of witch-power based burning. Honestly, without that knowledge, he rather doubted he'd have followed the Sunlord's will and claimed him, to his shame. Fortunately the Sunlord had seen fit to work around his weakness and grant him the knowledge that his last student would be safe from the power plays he had cut his teeth on, so Karal was properly his.

It was only fair that he throw his all into supporting the regime that meant he could have Karal.

The fact that doing so had made the last years so very fascinating was an excellent bonus, of course. Even better, now that the initial revolution was over he had been able to spend the past year properly discussing things he had been sitting on for years with other archivists and Seras in particular, the man was an excellent mind and there had been more than a few times he had suspected a precedent he wanted was recorded somewhere in those secreted away Hall Archives yet been unable to ask for fear of tipping his hand.

It had been… startling, to realize how terribly surprised the Firestarters were by Solaris' announcement on the true nature of witch-powers. Startling, and a little shaming. He had honestly feared his friend would be dead when that emergency Conclave ended, because in those few moments he'd glimpsed the Firestarters between the announcement and their doors slamming shut, Seras had looked broken. Broken, and tired, and so very old.

He had cursed himself for a heartless fool more than a few times those days, because he had always respected Seras as a scholar, as a priest, and had almost considered him a friend, but somehow it had never occurred to him that the man would take the news he had spent his entire life burning innocent people alive badly. Would be guilt-stricken. He should have offered him some sort of warning, or encouraged Solaris to make the announcement to the Firestarters first, before making it to everyone during a main service. What they had done had been needlessly cruel.

After that, meeting the new Incendiary – and hearing from Solaris that her second meeting with the man she claimed as successor had included an entirely justified scolding for just that act – had been immensely encouraging, and being able to speak with Seras afterwards and apologize for his own part in it had left him with no doubts as to the rightness of Solaris' choice in successor. He had feared his friend lost to him forever due to his own carelessness, but thanks to Incandescence Dinesh, he had a chance to rebuild that friendship properly, with no lies between them.

Well, aside from lies on just how many hours he had put into finding a particularly challenging reference, but that sort of boasting was properly harmless.

Meeting his Enforcer, on the other hand, had been an experience, not at all helped by the fact Seras had cheerfully referred to the man as a kindred spirit. He might consider Seras a friend, but that did not change the fact that Seras was a terrifyingly ruthless man who had been known to overstep the bounds of what even the old regime would consider moral. Seras might feel guilty about it, might realize what he had done was wrong, but not until after he had done it in the first place. The only thing that had kept him from true alarm when he'd met the man and sensed the spine-tingling other attached to his soul was the fact he had met Holiness Dinesh first, had heard of some of his actions from Seras and Solaris and even Karchanek, though that had been more complaining about absolutely absurd excuses for badly trained horses than any useful assessment of the pair.

Well, the fact that the man had immediately spluttered over one of the least ridiculous of his titles while the Incendiary practically cried laughing had also helped.

The fact that apparently no one but exorcists, and perhaps not even all the exorcists at that, could sense that otherness, that oddity, had been a surprise. He had thought that there was more overlap in his own senses and those of mages and necromancers in particular, but some carefully worded questions of Colbern had revealed that he sensed nothing unusual, even with his oddly overactive mage-sight. Any chance to investigate had rather been brushed to the wayside these past moons, but just yesterday Solaris had asked some carefully worded questions of her own that revealed even she had been unable to sense any sort of otherness about Enforcer Bellamy's soul without intense meditation, and even that she hadn't properly attempted, only guessed that she'd be capable of feeling it if she focused.

Her warning that if he should feel anything similar he was to keep it quiet and set out orders that no exorcists were ever to attempt to cleanse the individual in question from that otherness had raised all sorts of questions. The moment this Midwinter was over and he had some time to spare for his own research, he was going to lock himself away with the few records the exorcists had kept for themselves and see if a close reading gave him any hints.

If he didn't find anything, he would have to ask the Incendiary and his Enforcer directly on their next visit to Sunhame – or their extended visit in Sunhame, repunctured lungs were no joking matter and a week long ride back to their northern bandit hunting unit wouldn't be an option for quite some time. Even if Kari brought them there directly, he rather doubted the conditions of a remote Sunsguard barracks were any more conducive to healing rest than Sunhame was. Something to bring up with Solaris so she could raise the issue with the pair after the Firestarter Conclave was concluded.

Of course, with all of this drama happening before the Conclave could even properly begin, he wouldn't blame the pair if they bolted out of Sunhame the moment the Midwinter's Day service concluded, to hell with Solaris' plans for a celebratory dinner with her Council and to hell with injury recovery. If his old bones were any more capable of speedy escapes, he would be tempted himself.

Hells, with the way this tracking discussion was going, they could even run off and claim they were going to try and track this oathbreaking wretch down. The results from Jeryl's scrying-feasibility check were less than promising, though they certainly justified all of the effort Justicars put into mastering that particular spell – if someone had tried scrying for him directly they would have suffered badly, possibly even been killed. Whoever had made those anti-scrying texts freely available to all mages of the right power level about eighty years ago was definitely someone he wanted to have very specific sorts of words with.

This was the third circle of the same conversation and there were no new ideas. Ulrich managed not to wince when he spotted Maude Nolans' brother, a definite victim of this man and one very much at risk for retribution after what he and his sister had pulled to try and win their freedom, apparently realize the same thing and practically collapse onto a bench, burying his face in his hands. The Enforcer turned to speak to him; hopefully he had some ideas on how to properly secure the siblings, they needed to be protected with as much liberty retained as possible, anything else would be unacceptable in the extreme.

If they just had some means to find the man!

He watched Enforcer Bellamy turn aside, and he sidestepped a bit to let let the Enforcer pass him, likely on his way to speak to the Incendiary about whatever protective measures they might be able to implement. The only things he could think of that were actually feasible was a complete transplant and severance of their prior identity, which would not exactly be easy to manage, particularly if Bertrand had anything of theirs to anchor a scrying of his own –

"Vkandis Sunlord, Giver of Light, we ask for your judgment! I call this one Oathbreaker!"

He had been a priest of Vkandis Sunlord for well over fifty years, a summoner for nearly as long and an exorcist for longer, with his first rite conducted in the last year of his apprenticeship. He considered himself rather hard to surprise, somewhat hard to impress, and very good indeed at retaining his composure.

He had no idea what his facial expression was just now, but he highly doubted it was anything even close to composed.

Whirling around in time to see the first bracelet hit the fire, he could feel himself choke on air and didn't feel the bruises he knew were forming on his knees. From more natural orange-yellow to a deep red, the pulse of summer-dry heat rushed over him and left an utter, complete silence in its wake. Perhaps it wasn't quiet, Sunhame was never truly quiet, but no other sounds mattered when compared to that voice, those words.

"I call this one Outcast!" rang out like a thousand bells, fire stretching and flaring into an elaborate and entirely unnatural spiral consuming the second bracelet –

"I call this one Nameless!"

The third bracelet was cast, and fire roared.

He should prostrate himself, he should, but he couldn't bear the thought of looking away, feeling tears trace their way down his face because this was something the Firestarters had lost, this was something they had all lost, and it was found.

Golden fire turned to nothing but light, curling around the Enforcer and mantling his shoulders, not so much disappearing as absorbing and he could no longer stare when the Light's Shadow turned to them with eyes blazing gold.

"We confirm these calls," a voice like summer noon and rolling thunder and light lancing across the sky filled every corner of the air and left no room for anything else, "Judgment has been made. Mortal justice remains. Honored Hansa, attend Us."

Honored Hansa rose from his own prostration and followed in Bel – in the Voice's wake, pace somehow unhurried yet faster than Ulrich felt it could possibly be and utterly implacable.

He could hear sounds of Sunhame again, but only just in time to hear silence spread as the Voice exited the gate to Seventh, power blazing in Their eyes. Ulrich could hear his own breathing now, though, echoing in his ears and so very harsh, but he couldn't gather his thoughts yet, he was still too – too stunned, at what he had just seen. At the implications of what he had just seen.

"Do we… follow them?" the Justicar's Corporal asked, looking like he very much regretted the fact he felt obligated to ask.

"I don't know that it would be useful," Holiness Laskaris said, rising to his feet, "With Honored Hansa's abilities, there is no guarantee we could follow on foot."

"An excellent point," Justicar Jeryl admitted, everyone else also carefully standing, Ulrich accepting Garth Nolans' offer of assistance regaining his own feet. The Justicar looked at his soldiers and was visibly trying to focus, before finally saying, "The office, I think. If there is no word after I take a look at that, we'll take the two staff and one priest I need to speak with further to Fourth Court. Holiness Ulrich, if you would not mind accompanying us, my understanding of the Firecat's Jumping is that they need someone they are familiar with to serve as an anchor for arrival?"

"That is my understanding as well," Ulrich agreed, "I will gladly remain."

As if he would want to leave!

=pagebreak=

The Fourth Court's runner hadn't known if word had been sent to the Seventh Sector Station, and it really would only be courteous to let his neighboring Captain know the temple complex straddling their districts was having problems. After assigning two squads to Fourth Court's errand and confirming that none of his Shift Leaders had sent word they wouldn't make this afternoon's meeting, he had little to do, particularly now that he was only on the bare periphery of whatever the hell Val had stumbled into. Might as well take the chance to get out of the office and enjoy the sunshine before any winter storms rolled in.

The fact that he had looked down from issuing orders to Shift Leader Bron and found his hands in the middle of making a noose out of spare hobbles had more than a little to do with that decision.

He hadn't lied when he told Holiness Dinesh that there was no true compulsion to follow through on the plans he found himself dwelling on far too often, but just because he could stop once he was aware of what he was doing didn't mean he always was aware.

He winced when a cold breeze whipped down the back of his coat. At least nooses weren't immediately lethal in and of themselves; a few days after Holiness Dinesh and the soldiers that rode with him had departed, he had nearly slit his own throat in a meeting with Captain Lenka. It was fortunate the Captain and he had been alone at the time, after the weeks of terror their unit had suffered, seeing the only surviving victim succumb after they thought they were safe would have shattered them. As it was, they had spent a few days in near-panic themselves, but no one else had shown signs and they had decided it was likely just a consequence of the witch-power assault he'd suffered.

Talent, he reminded himself, returning the salutes two Patrolmen offered him but not pausing to speak. They weren't flagging him down, and he needed to run this errand quickly enough to get back to the station in time for his afternoon meeting; finding a consistent time for his Shift Leads to meet had been annoying enough, having to reschedule it this week since Midwinter's Vigil fell on the usual day had been a nightmare to manage.

What Nacht had used was a Talent, not a witch-power. Nacht had lost his mind. Nacht had been insane and he had been suffering. He did not deserve his hatred.

But some days remembering that was so very hard.

He had a chance now, though. He had hope that there might actually be some end in sight, which was honestly more than he had dared hope for when they heard about Her Eminence's Ascent and he realized that what he had thought was unquestioning evil was in fact nothing to be condemned at all.

He was a soldier, he had been on the career path of a bandit-hunter before his self-preservation had been so badly compromised, he knew very well the difference between having dangerous skills and being morally wrong. Applying that knowledge to strange powers he truly didn't understand was hard, though, and it had honestly taken Holiness Dinesh's clear horror at what he was suffering, Enforcer Bellamy's matter of fact declaration that what had been done to him was wrong, for that knowledge to properly register. Their immediate offers to help, however they could, had been immensely relieving and more than he had hoped for in themselves. When Honored Kari arrived and said that he could help, and could help immediately…

Marghi had known where any extra pay would be going this season, and that was straight to Temple donations and incense for his own shrine.

"Caleb!" he heard, and managed to keep his annoyance at the informality from his face when he turned in the man's direction. Captain Nachten, whose name's close resemblance to Nacht's did him absolutely no favors, preferred to eschew all titles amongst those of equal rank, and as the man's other flanking captain was Outer Sixth's ridiculously prissy Captain Ikren, Marghi was the only one the man could exercise that preference with.

He found it unprofessional when they were on duty, much less when they were both on duty and in public, but the man was good at his job and it was a relatively harmless quirk, so he didn't consider it worth arguing about. The fact that indulging the man made it more likely Nachten would answer questions and serve as a sounding board when he needed a colleague to talk to simply made it an annoyance more than worth putting up with. By this time next year, he might even be able to say it was no longer annoying.

The other captain had evidently been on his regular rounds, it didn't look as if he had been making any arrests or the like himself. Exchanging salutes with the Corporal and two Patrolmen whom Nachten had been speaking with, he focused on his fellow Captain and said mildly, "Trevar. Was looking for you."

"Figured it was something like that," the man said agreeably, continuing on in the direction of the station, "This an office only conversation?"

"Not particularly, I don't have much information myself," Marghi replied, having already decided the best way to play things was to admit only to the information he had heard through formal, non-Firecat channels. "Runner from Fourth Court came in, requested two squads to the charity complex. Didn't sound like anyone had been requested from you."

"I've been on rounds the past mark, I wouldn't know," Nachten said, frowning, "But my second can authorize that and would have sent someone after me, I have a fairly standard route. Doubt anyone was requested from us. It was your turn, anyway."

"I highly doubt Fourth Court keeps rigorous track of which of the two of us it calls on for Sector spanning cases," he said dryly, hearing the bells start to ring noon.

Trevar grinned at the sound, and asked, "Lunch? There's an excellent food stall one road in, you should have more than enough time to get back for your Shift Lead meeting."

He'd have to get lunch before his meeting regardless, and having another person around to engage with socially would keep his mind from wandering to potentially lethal places, so he nodded and said, "Might as well."

Following Trevar and listening to the man's chatter about some of the more entertaining cases to come through his door recently, he spent an admittedly inordinate amount of time wondering how he could possibly justify reading Trevar in on Val and Jana's proper names. He couldn't, there was no reason to at all, but he desperately wanted someone to know why the Val and Jana stories the men of the Outer Eighth traded were so very much more hilariously incongruous than they were already.

Hmm. It had sounded like Holiness Dinesh and Lieutenant-Enforcer Bellamy only recently found out about the whole Val and Jana subsidiary identities thing themselves, perhaps he could tell them the stories. Even better, if he told them the stories he had better odds of one day finding out the full story behind some of the more outlandish ones, because that kidnapping forced-labor piracy case that Val and his sister were credited with helping crack open promised to have so many more angles than the bare bones summary he had gotten from his Shift Leads, and that version had been entertaining enough in it's own right.

He would ask Honored Kari if they had any interest in that offer.

Trevar's story cut off and they both turned, hearing the same commotion. A man running worry-beads through his fingers was walking at speed, while an evident collision from people getting out of his way or being shoved out of his way had been the commotion to draw their attention. Trevar sighed heavily, reaching out as the man passed and saying, "Sir, you should at the very least apologize – "

City guard didn't carry knives. He hadn't carried knives for years before his transfer.

But the utter fury in the man's eyes made him wish for them.

"Down!" he shouted, hooking an arm around Trevar's waist and practically throwing them both to the ground but that was a Levin-bolt that had flown over their heads, he had only ever seen one once before and it didn't matter that he and Trevar were scrambling to their feet the man was already about to send another one flying –

"We think not!" a Voice rang, the second Levin-bolt freezing midair and vanishing to nothing, a blur of cream-and-crimson fur slamming into the back of the man's knees with a furious yowl, the mage collapsing with a strangled cry.

Marghi found himself hard pressed not to echo that sound, stumbling back a few steps on seeing just Who had intervened beyond the Cat, dropping to his knees before he even realized that he knew the face those golden eyes were blazing out from.

"Let it be known that the man once called Bertrand, formerly a priest of the Sunlord, has been declared Oathbreaker!" the Voice declared, voice carrying impossibly far, sounding so very terrifying and comforting all at the same time and so very unlike any voice that should be emerging from Enforcer Bellamy's throat.

"That he is now Nameless and Shunned," the Voice continued, Caleb hardly daring to breathe as that figure passed close by, the Cat stepping aside so They could wrench the condemned man up to his knees by his collar, talking over the Nameless one's faint whispers of denial as if they were entirely unspoken, "That the Sunlord has turned his face from him, that he will reside forever in the darkness!"

The Cat had clawed the man's legs, Marghi could see blood starting to drip onto the cobblestones, but the Voice looked down on the bleeding man with an inhuman fury and continued implacably, "For breaking your Oaths, We strip you of your priesthood."

The man gasped, going white and flinching as if he had been struck, though no physical blow had landed. The one once called Bertrand tried to shudder away from the next declaration, but the Voice's grip on his collar only tightened, "For violating the sacred trust between priest and parishioner, We strip you of your Name."

Another blow had been struck, in no way Marghi could see, but there was still one final strike, the Voice giving a terrifying smile as They spoke.

"For daring to target souls entrusted to you, We strip you of your Talents."

A hair-raising shriek cut off abruptly, the man's horror-filled expression switching to flat and empty, the weighty presence fading away and the Enforcer's white knuckled grip on the man's collar eased. There was nothing of mercy in the gesture though, Bellamy's other hand yanking his head back by the hair and a now utterly human rage in his eyes as he examined the Oathbreaker's nearly slack features.

"Surprised you're not dead," he said, voice low, "But I suppose that would risk your coconspirators escaping, and that would be a true shame."

When Bellamy released the man's hair, the Oathbreaker's head slumped forward – not quite the total limpness of unconsciousness, but damn close. Bellamy entirely ignored him, gaze sweeping the street instead and the Enforcer visibly hesitated before raising his voice again, saying to the kneeling crowd, "Rise, please. We are simply doing our duty."

Marghi slowly levered himself to his feet and was rather proud of himself for not flinching when the Lieutenant-Enforcer looked at him, eyes still flecked with gold, and asked, "Captain, do you have a set of hobbles I could borrow?"

"Ah – yes," he said, quickly unhooking said hobbles from his belt and passing them over so Bellamy could tie the Nameless One's arms behind his back in a position he had been trained to use in the banditry units, and then informed the City Guard only used it on particularly violent offenders due to the excessive strain it could put on the captive's joints.

Somehow, he doubted that Bellamy would have used any other method even if he had known them. He stepped forward and helped the Enforcer lever the man to his feet, worried that the Oathbreaker's catatonic state would make hauling him around difficult for one man to manage, but to his surprise, once standing the man swayed a bit but didn't collapse.

"Good to see you again, mostly because it confirms we're definitely still in Sunhame," Bellamy commented, a wry smile on his face that was horrifyingly unnerving because his eyes were still swirled with gold yet here he was, inviting Caleb to share in some sort of joke.

"That was – in doubt?" he managed, glancing down at the Firecat just long enough to confirm that this was not Honored Kari under a different name for some reason, this was in fact the second Firecat he had seen today.

His morning had started so normally.

"Last time Kir and I did this, we had our horses nearby, ended up riding for… two days straight, I think? Full gallop the whole time, day and night," Bellamy said, huffing a laugh, "Lucky we caught up to that one in a town, we'd have been wandering to try and find out where the heck we were otherwise. This is Outer Eighth, then?"

"No, Outer Seventh," Marghi corrected, knowing his voice sounded a little strangled but who could blame him because the Enforcer had done this before? "I came here to make sure my colleague knew the charity ward was having an investigation, in case there was any sort of overflow."

"How convenient," Bellamy mused – was this still just Bellamy? Were those faint traces of gold just lingering after effects of the Voice or was the Voice still there?

Gold-flecked hazel flicked towards Trevar and Marghi hastily turned so he could offer proper introductions, saying, "Lieutenant Anur Bellamy, Enforcer for His Holiness Kir Dinesh, my colleague, Captain Trevar Nachten of the Outer Seventh Sector Station."

"Pleasure, Captain," Bellamy said, inclining his head and talking right past the awkward silence that Caleb knew he and Trevar were both using to panic about who exactly was supposed to salute first, if anyone, because the an Enforcer could act as an extension of their priest and if that was the case he of course wouldn't salute first if at all but how could they tell and besides even that the Enforcer's eyes still had gold. "As you have undoubtedly realized, the charity temple situation is complicated. The Oathbreaker has been confirmed to have used magic against civilians to bind them to his will along with more mundane extortion and threats, so you will undoubtedly be hearing from Justicar Jeryl of…"

The Enforcer trailed off, gaze going distant and the golden flecks gleaming and spreading across the entirety of his irises but before Caleb could properly register that and go to his knees Trevar was grabbing his arm and – temporarily covered in a wash of golden light that pulsed once before vanishing?

"Kir just say thank you, Ari's sake, you are definitely still under strain even if your lung isn't punctured anymore," the Enforcer muttered under his breath, definitely not speaking to either of them even as his now entirely gold-free gaze swept past them to the heavens so he could say a quick and mostly unintelligible prayer of thanks.

"What was that?" Caleb asked warily, Trevar practically wheezing next to him, not that he could blame the man, and at least two of the bystanders from the collision that had drawn their attention in the first place had been encased in a similar flare of gold.

"That was my brother asking for help," Bellamy murmured, a fond smile Caleb didn't understand at all on his face before it vanished to something more professional, the man speaking more clearly now – and definitely deliberately projecting so the bystanders could also hear him.

"The Oathbreaker, as I said, is confirmed to have used magic to bind others to his will, along with using malicious spell craft to further his own ends in other ways. What you just experienced, Captain Nachten, was a removal of the groundwork spells he had laid upon you. Groundwork spells are – they do nothing to you, in and of themselves. They make it easier for later spells to catch hold."

"How long had I had that on me?" Trevar asked, voice shaky but at least he was breathing normally again.

"With only one pulse? I suspect it was very recent, even perhaps in the last few moments of his freedom," the Enforcer said, exchanging a long glance with Honored Hansa, "The more spells that were anchored, the more of those pulses of light, I suppose?"

:Groundwork spells can be layered, and often have a self-propagating nature to build additional layers as time goes on,: Honored Hansa broadcast, Caleb managing not to flinch too dramatically; Trevar more than made up for him, :So multiple pulses may indicate multiple groundwork layers from one original spell, rather than multiple spells.:

"The victim might have reason to know or suspect what spells were cast on them, or might be utterly unknowing they were even under some form of spellcraft," Bellamy added, giving Trevar a sympathetic glance that Caleb rather doubted his fellow Captain was coherent enough to appreciate.

"As I was starting to say before – people will likely come forward now, when they couldn't before. If you could both keep an ear out for any cases or reports regarding the one once called Bertrand, former priest and formerly second in command of the southern charity complex, send those along to Justicar Jeryl, First Order at Fourth Court. He'll undoubtedly send formal instructions to that effect later, but as a heads up. Do you two need anything else from myself or Honored Hansa before we get this one back to the Justicar for questioning?"

Caleb exchanged a quick glance with Trevar, rather unsurprised to see his colleague was still completely speechless, and shook his own head, saying, "No, Lieutenant-Enforcer. And – regarding that later meeting, that can be shifted to whenever is convenient for Honored Kari."

The Enforcer's eyes narrowed before he started searching through his own pockets with his free hand, his other hand still holding the Nameless One's arm. "Ha! Knew I still had a few," Enforcer Bellamy muttered, pulling some small piece of metal out of a pocket and offering it to him.

Marghi couldn't refuse, but he definitely stared at the dulled arrowhead gleaming in his palm with no little confusion. He had been in the Sunsguard for years, seen all sorts of weapons-grade metal, and he'd never seen metal with this sort of sheen.

"Realized after we spoke last that this might help. Hopefully, Kari can still meet with you, but in case he can't for some reason – because you're right, this might end up being an all day affair – that arrowhead might help. It's sun-blessed steel."

It was a good thing the arrowhead was dull, he would have cut his hand to ribbons when he clenched his fist around the metal, feeling his breath hitch and eyes widen in utter disbelief because – because what?

"We don't – really know much about what Sun-blessed steel is capable of," Bellamy admitted, voice rueful with an unspoken story, "But it can't hurt, in this case. Though do me a favor, if you hear any sort of tune coming from it, don't hum along. Regardless of how this day pans out, you will hear from Kari this evening."

It was his turn to loose his voice, throat thick with gratitude and wonder and the knowledge that if he spoke he'd be demanding with increasing hysteria what the fuck was happening and this man had manifested the Voice and there was a Firecat he couldn't be that undignified right now - !

"Thank you, Lieutenant-Enforcer, Honored Firecat," Trevar spoke up, voice a little strangled but at least he had found it, "Good luck with your investigation."

"Our thanks, Captains," Bellamy said, either not noticing or not commenting on their joint twitch at the plural pronoun, instead stepping back with the Nameless One in tow and saying, "Honored Hansa?"

The Cat nodded and settled into a seat at Bellamy's feet, tail curling around his paws before golden-orange fire whirled around them all and left nothing but an echoing silence in their wake.

"Caleb, for the love of all that is holy please tell me you have a flask in that coat," Trevar said.

He handed the man his flask.

"So being a mage counts as being Talented, interesting…"

"Devin, your eye for detail astounds me, it really does."

"I'm just sad we didn't hear about Sun-blessed steel when Uncle Kir was visiting, I really want to see a piece."

"…I have some."

"And you never said?!"