"What game is Mograine playing at?"

That was an interesting question, but it was based on an assumption that Halford was not sure was correct. If they decided this was a 'game' before even looking at it, then why should Mograine trust them at all? Why even bother to ask for support from anyone they'd just assume would answer them with a 'game'? "What makes you think he's playing a game?" Nothing in Mograine's letters felt false, if anything, he felt like a shadow of Halford's struggle... trying desperately to do something. To ignore politics and distractions, to keep moving resolutely northward, focused on bringing the fight to Arthas's gates. That was the whole reason of why they were supposed to be here in the first place.

"Then is she the one playing?" Eligor demanded slowly.

"I trust Sorrow implicitly. Her words are as mine." Mograine had been utterly clear in this, she was his proxy. She spoke for him. She was his choice. If this was to have any chance of working, then Halford had to at least give it a try. He had to give Mograine the opportunity to fail, to betray.

Better now than later.

"You assume that it is a game."

"No self respecting paladin would represent the Ebon Blade! None of us would swear to them, Halford." There was that. On the surface, it seemed to be quite valid. Why, why, why would any 'self respecting' paladin choose this route? It wasn't as if there were no places on the front for anyone willing to come here. Even without a calling such as what she claimed, a claim that could be so very easily disproven if it was a falsehood, they'd probably take her in as a volunteer. Not with him, the 7th was an elite unit, but other units would. All she'd need was a basic grasp of combat. Lying about a calling was just...empty. Foolish. It wasn't even worth a moment of Mograine's attention and it would just get her killed in her first contact with an enemy. No, something else was going on. The Ebon Blade had bothered to kit her out in a manner definitely befitting the position they wanted her to claim. That armor was masterwork, forged for her. She wore it like a soldier.

But Eligor was right, no self respecting paladin would swear to Mograine. Was the question paladin, self respecting, or sworn to Mograine? Again, her calling...or lack of...would come out, and soon.

"You touched her." Yes, and Halford had not missed how purposeful that was. It would answer the most basic question, which was probably why she'd done it.

"She is alive. And she is too healthy to be a member of the Cult of the Damned."

"And yet, you'd trust a death knight more than an alive and healthy woman who comes with the same credentials that the best of Mograine's have." And that was a problem.

"I'd understand it more. It would be...less of a betrayal."

Betrayal. Unfortunately, that was exactly how many of the Order would see this. And that was precisely the sort of infighting that he was struggling to get beyond. "What does it matter what color of tabard she wears if she's willing and ready to fight beside us? As long as she's a paladin? The Horde has paladins and they aren't members of our Order. So now the Ebon Blade has...one."

"You've already made up your mind." There was an acceptance in Eligor's voice, which was good, because Halford was already tired of arguing. He understood the warning, he knew the caution was valid but it was simply too damned obvious. If she was anything, she was a distraction, a sleight of hand. He doubted it, though. Mograine seemed to be as focused on dragging Arthas down as Halford was. Throwing up a distraction should gain him nothing.

"I have, yes." Mograine had sent him a general, a liaison. Somehow he'd managed to come up with a living, breathing, possibly paladin, general and liaison.

"Well, I must admit that I am intrigued, but I will not pry. You have others who will do that better than I could." Eligor stood from his place at the table, shaking his head. "Halford, just be cautious. You have to admit this smells fishy."

"Very fishy. Too fishy." If Mograine wanted to put someone in, he could have simply given the same letters of introduction and fancy gear to one of his death knights and they'd accept that in a moment.

"Too fishy. I see your point."

"I will be cautious, Eligor." But not so cautious that he would pass over an opportunity. He'd asked for help. He'd asked for unity. And Mograine had seen fit to send him Sorrow...whoever she was, whatever she was. "I am going to go check on our guest." By now, she would have rooms and would have had a little time to at least put her bags down. He'd give her a little more by taking the long way around, but not so much that she got too comfortable. He was aware that she had arrived by magical means, and that no living mage had been involved, but that didn't mean her day had been easy. He'd hate to wake her up.

He moved through the keep, taking his time, before coming to the officer's hall. That in itself was probably a bother for Eligor, but there was no other place to put a 'general', even if it meant putting her just doors down from Halford, from Eligor. There was a guard at the juncture, exactly as there should be.

"General Sorrow?"

"There." The guard pointed at a door, the closest door to where he stood, the farthest door from Halford's chambers. Unsurprising, but they were still fine rooms. He stepped up and knocked lightly, hard enough to be heard if she was awake yet not strongly enough to disturb her if she was not.

"Come in."

He stepped in, closing the door firmly behind him. She sat in a chair, a low table pulled up in front of her, a pile of maps, papers, folders stacked on it. She'd taken off her armor, it sat upended in the corner, ready for a single person to get into it as quickly as possible.

"Hope I am not interrupting..." She couldn't look less like a paladin if she tried to, clad in unrelieved black from head to toe, face still obscured by a cowl. He took the moment to measure her, relying on his other senses.

She is alive.

No doubt. He wasn't as fine a healer as Eligor was, he had not physically touched her, as Eligor had, but he could still sense that. And more importantly, he could feel the Light's hold on her. That did not guarantee that she was a paladin, but she had a calling, either paladin or priest. And there was no reason to call her a paladin if she was a priest, both were highly prized. There was no reason to put her in plate if she was a priest. No reason to give her an axe and a shield. That was counter productive.

A paladin.

"No, you are not interrupting. I would have brought these to you anyway." She waved at the pile with the only part of her body left bare, her hands. "Pull up a chair. We'll go over what I have here." That was not her natural voice, it was a trick to make her sound like a death knight. Why? Why hide her features, why change her voice? No self respecting paladin...

"If you are not tired..." He grabbed a chair from the corner and pulled it over, sitting and staring at the main map she had rolled out on the surface. That in itself would be worth his time, worth listening to her. This is the intelligence that the Ebon Blade holds...

Of course. Some of their members had been in Northrend for years, they'd absorbed members from many different expeditions, different races. They'd traveled the width and breadth of the continent.

"I am not tired. I have had plenty of sleep and I have eaten recently." She rested her hands on the map and he studied them. Hands told a story and hers were no different. Human, female, pale. Not a youngster, the tendons visible, veins slightly prominent. She wore a single, rather subdued ring on her left ring finger, a narrow gold band inset with small diamonds. Her nails were cut short and there was a faded scar across her right knuckles. Not pretty hands, exactly as he was expecting.

"Mograine speaks highly of your abilities." He stated slowly, uncertain how far to push that. Yes, Mograine did...but. "What position did you see yourself holding?"

"The main concern is that the members of the Ebon Blade are not viewed as disposable. They...we...are not. My main position is oversight in situations in which we work in tandem with the living. I expect to be kept apprised of those. As for myself, I am here for the same reason you are. They are..." She flicked her fingers in the general direction of the yard. "To bring down the Lich King. I expect to be useful in that. Right now, I expect you to put me in a place where I have the chance to prove my abilities. I understand that, since I cannot...will not...tell you my experience that you'll need me to show it to you instead. So, put me under one of your commanders, in the field, and let me do that."

"Of course. Give me a couple of days to decide which one is best suited to this. So, are you the sort of paladin that your weapons seem to hint? Not a healer? In the front, nose to nose?"

"My calling is to stand, nose to nose. It has been awhile since I've been given the luxury to do so..." Even with the enchantments that altered it, the change in her voice was evident, there was regret there. "But I would welcome the chance to stand again."

"I will make that happen." Even if I have to take you with me.

"Good, good. Here, take this. I have copies." She rolled up the map and offered it to him. "Thank you."

"No need to thank me. But I will leave you alone for now." He took the map and tucked it under his arm. "I will be assigning you an aide that I will select to be able to handle your needs and I will be looking for someone for you to work with until I know exactly where I need you at. Good day, Sorrow."

"Good day, Wyrmbane."