OOC: Mini-update. I'm coughing absurdly and I'm exhausted but I'll give a full-scale one for everyone else the following night.


Alford knew that he had the meeting at Fenris to attend to; time was running out. The Summertide had since passed, and yet it was said that the Duke Fenris would not begin the summit until near all invited rulers attended. Though a couple of days overdue, Alford had at last come near to settling internal affairs.

He just hoped that he could fix what Margaret Corin had set in motion for him; Andol was still out there. Truth be told, Alford did not even know what to feel about this revelation yet.

If the boy wanted his throne, then he was in for a surprise. Andol was a criminal, responsible for the atrocity at Tyr's Hand. For such an action, the law demanded justice. Despite this, could Alford ever knowingly put his own child to death?

Such was a matter that only time could decide.

That night, no time was lost on Kariel Winthalus. The arrogant elf had caused enough trouble to last a century, and yet what he had helped put in motion had only just begun. His would be suffering the likes of he would probably never before have experienced.

Adaen Melrache himself was at work on the infidel.

In the dungeons, with red hot iron pokers, chains and devious curved instruments of torture, the vengeful Witch Hunter Commander carved lines along Kariel's back. His screams of pain were most satisfying. "Now, Master Winthalus." Adaen exclaimed, waving his sickle briefly. "I want you to tell me something of value to this kingdom. I want information. If you do not tell me anything useful, I will torture you. If you tell me something I think is worth my time, then I will give you a pause before I continue hurting you. That is how the game will work. The more you tell me, the longer you will live."

The elf cackled briefly, before his expression turned to a grim determination. "Mnesthes ftang."

Adaen sighed. "Is that all, really? Really?" before he carved out another trench in Kariel's back, which was met by horrid shrieking and a torrent of blood. "You don't want to ignore me for much longer, elf."

Kariel grinned again. "You want to know something worthwhile? Very well then, Commander. Did you know that your King is a faithless, carnal monster? That he raped and abused a noblewoman, and sired two bastard sons off of her? A poor, wretched woman who came crawling to me and Amron Radiun Malad, her saviours. A woman called Margaret Corin."

"Shut up, before it's too late to take back what you've just said." Adaen's mouth twisted in disdain. "You pitiful waste of flesh. Not even your accursed god of life and death can decide your fate for you now. You will cease lying, or you will die screaming."

Yet the seed of doubt had been planted. Adaen Melrache was not willing to accept such a thought as ever being possible. His King was just. He served his King with heart and soul. Alford Menethil had been a good ruler; the People's Front and the Maroon Cult had both been wrong to oppose his rule. This talk was madness.

Kariel talked.

He talked, as Adaen had wanted him to.

"That your King is impure comes as a surprise to you? Sir Tileot, son of Bauros, is his son. Andol is his son. Mnesthes knows what a myriad of bastards your evil master has sired to date. Investigate, Commander. You are a Witch Hunter. You will find the truth. You always seem to do, don't you?"

"Shut-the-hell-up!" Adaen cried, slamming his fist into Kariel between each word. Rage and hate spurred him on, and he would not stop. "My life for Lordaeron!"

Blood trickling from Kariel's lips, he passed Adaen a wink. "Seek and you will find."

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