The Skylance hummed to life, crystals crackling and lenses adjusting. The glyphs on the Skylance’s frame began to glow, as the machine harvested the magical energies needed to launch its spell. The space around Marth and Dalanesca seemed to warp, and in an instant, the pair were shot as if by a cannon towards the surface of Revaliir.

Despite the ethereal bridge’s apparently straight trajectory, the two would experience a lot of swinging, like that of riding down a steep and curving waterslide, as well as a bout of intense turbulence as the Skylance penetrated the boundary between the Blinded Scales and the physical world. The spell held, however, and it was mere seconds later that the two landed on their feet in the middle of a busy Egjoran marketplace - unharmed, if possibly a bit dizzy and disoriented.

The teleporting pair drew a little attention, but nothing out of the ordinary. Apparently, the townsfolk were not unfamiliar with teleporters, and indeed there was a small crystalline structure in the square which functioned as a teleport homer. Nearby, there was a sign, upon which was written the same message in a number of languages: teleporting visitors to Egjora are asked to report to the nearest customs house ↑. Marth looked at Dalanesca, and eventually managed to smile, though it was plain that he was still not quite used to the Skylance’s teleport function. “Shall we, milady?”

Despite the busy nature of the market square, the customs house nearby was relatively quiet. Two merchants stood in a corner discussing the price fluctuations of various commodities, a scholar of some sort was sitting in a corner filling out forms, and two clerks were discussing the virtues of their favourite prostitutes over a cup of tea. Marth went over to a booth and addressed its clerk, his Egjoran almost as good as his Adelunian, with only a slight accent. “Gud morgen,” he began, giving the clerk a friendly smile. “I har ein bok at fortulla,” he continued, placing a copy of a text regarding the history of the mage’s college in Wyllmochvar on the counter. The clerk looked it over, and began writing a reciept. “Da blir tjue-fyra riksthaler, eller syv halfmåne,” the clerk replied, and Marth placed seven crescents on the counter in response. Marth leaned a little closer, and smiled sheepishly at the clerk. “Bokji ska leverast te ein Borza, trollmann, der bor i byn, og e he ikkje adressa. Kan du finn han?” The clerk looked at marth with a perked eyebrow as he requested Borza’s address, but found a copy of a list of immigrated casters, and looked through it. The clerk wrote down the address on the reciept, and handed it back to Marth. “Takkar. Gud dag!”

Marth returned to Dalanesca, showing her the reciept. “Got the address. Shall we get moving?” He opened the door to the customs house, and held it - like a proper gentleman should.

An indescribable feeling overwhelmed Dalanesca as she and Marth were transported by the energy harnessed within the Skylance.  Nausea did not quite describe it, but it was a feeling similar to that of using a gate travel spell, only much more intense.  As her feet hit the ground in Egjora, she momentarily appeared awestruck, mostly at the fact that none of the Egjorans wandering about the marketplace they had appeared in seemed to notice either of them.  After a moment, she realized that it was not so much that the people in the market had not noticed them, but rather that they did not seem to care.

Her gaze found the multi-language sign directing visitors to the customs house, taking a moment to find a script that she recognized.  She glanced at Marth just as he looked at her, and nodded with a bit of a smile herself.  “I don’t see why not,” she said, grinning, and followed him towards their destination.

As the pair entered the customs house, Dalanesca stood back from Marth, ever playing the part of Marth’s travelling female companion.  She stifled a chuckle as she caught a portion of the conversation regarding a prostitute, but managed to keep her composure none the less. She could hear Marth’s exchange with the customs clerk, but could tell that he was speaking Egjoran.  It was a language of which she only understood bits and pieces, and she could hardly make out what was being discussed, as the conversation was mildly muffled by the distance between them.

Shortly, however, Marth returned, showing her that he had been successful in attaining Borza’s address.  “Excellent,” she said, with a smile.  “Never doubted you,” she added.  As he opened the door, she stepped back outside, glad that his idea had worked - although she had essentially known it would work anyway.

When the two were back outside the customs house, Dalanesca moved the pair off to the side.  “I couldn’t hear but a part of it, but you’re quite fluent in Egjoran, aren’t you?” she asked.  It was clear that his intelligence impressed her.  “And I imagine many other languages, as well,” she added.  “Fortunately for me, I know that speaking foreign languages isn’t the only thing your tongue is gifted at,” she added, with a dark grin.  

Taking pause, she shifted the conversation back to a serious note.  “Before we head in the direction of his residence, I feel we should discuss strategy,” she remarked.  “Going into this blindly is not going to end well for any party,” she added.  Her words were not spoken to imply that she felt Marth was impulsive, but rather because she felt herself to be rather impulsive.  Saying them aloud made her feel less likely to act upon those impulses.  “How are we going to approach getting in?” she asked.  “I could easily pick the lock, but it might be easier to put up a sort of ruse to get ourselves in without question,” she asked.  “An air of stealth is fine to attain, but being welcomed in graciously would make things even better,” she added, curious to see which way Marth wanted to gain access.

Marth was about to list the languages he could speak, when Dalanesca stated how his tongue had other uses, and found himself grinning most deviously. “Focus, milady. We can attend to such needs later,” he said, just before Dalanesca mentioned strategy. Marth furrowed his brow, thinking about it.

“It would certainly be good to be invited inside, but let’s not make any decisions before we see the building in question,” he said, as they walked towards the given address. “A look at sight lines and blind spots - as well as any traffic inside - should be had before we elaborate on our strategies.” Clearly, Marth didn’t feel like spending time strategizing when he had no idea what the battlefield looked like.

It didn’t take long to reach the mansion, however. It was plain that Borza preferred privacy, for the entire property was surrounded by a ten feet hedge, and the curtains were pulled before every window. The length of the grass at the mansion’s lawn indicated that someone was taking care of the property, but there was no light or moving shadow that indicated any traffic inside. All in all, it was a most horrible situation, intel-wise. Marth looked around, not wishing to move onto the grounds without more information.

Marth turned to Dalanesca, looking a bit daunted. “Well, it looks rather abandoned, but it’s hard to tell. Got any idea how we can find out more?” he asked, making a point of getting close and intimate so as not to attract too much attention to the fact that they were casing the joint.

Dalanesca gave Marth a bit of a playful glare as he commanded her to focus, but heeded his words regardless.  She nodded in agreement with him at his remarks on not strategizing until they could visualize their target - something she knew all too well from her past.  “You make a good point,” she said, reminding herself once more why Marth was now her most trusted companion, which had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that the two also happened to be lovers.  Dalanesca was clearly eager to give her old skills a go, having not used them for quite some time - but she was also excited to see what new feats she could attempt with her new-found powers.

When the pair reached their destination, she stood silent, eyeing the property along with Marth.  She could not detect any movement, but the upkeep of grounds seemed to indicate that their were people present at least on a semi-regular occasion.  She glanced at Marth, seeing the malcontent on his face - but where her companion saw a bad situation, she saw opportunity.  Looking away from him, she looked deep in thought.  

When Marth addressed her, she did not answer him immediately, but continued to stare at Borza’s mansion.  When he moved close to her, she turned to look at him.  “I’ll be right back,” she said, and planted a quick kiss on his lips before hurrying towards the hedges, disappearing from Marth’s sight.

As she stood in the hedges, she remained motionless, focusing completely on her task at hand.  Upon further concentration, she had managed to blend herself in with the shadows, rendering her invisible to anyone who would choose to pass by.  Her new domain allowed her manipulate both light and darkness, both good and evil, and she was finally learning how to use it to her advantage.  She made her way to one of the side doors and pulled a few small tools from within her corset, going swiftly to work at the lock.  Within seconds she was inside.

She carefully crept around the house, thankful for the lack of light, as it gave her more shadows to work with.  When she was happy with the result that no one seemed to be present, she snuck back out of the house, leaving the door she had entered through slightly ajar so the two of them would be able to enter again.  She was unsure of if her magic would be able to cover Marth when they went back in, but she would most likely give it a shot.

A few minutes later, she appeared behind Marth, clearing her throat so as to not startle him.  “House is empty,” she said, with a broad grin on her face - clearly proud of her accomplishments.  “Eastern side door is unlocked, we can get back in that way.  I didn’t know exactly what we were looking for, so I didn’t snoop much - just enough to make sure that we’ll be alone in there,” she added.  “Groundskeepers probably come during the day,” she added, thankful that evening had just fallen upon them.  “There’s no one around, not anywhere.”  She paused, awaiting Marth’s next instructions.

Marth stood idle, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible as Dalanesca performed her act of breaking and entering. As Dalanesca was inside, a patrol of guards came up to him, looking stern and hostile. “What are you doing here, outlander? There is no loitering in Egjora.” Marth’s heart skipped a beat. He was not too eager to get into an altercation with the local guardsmen, but he also wanted to remain close, in case Dalanesca needed help. He pulled the only card he could think of, and looked back at the guard, trying to look as brutish as possible - somewhat difficult in his elegant robes and shiny armour. He thickened his accent considerably, too. “Vat do yu vant, guardzman? I am vaitink for my associate. She’s familiar vith thiz zity, and told me to vait here.” The guardsmen didn’t look impressed, and Marth grew ever more nervous - trying not to show it. Thankfully, the man leading the patrol simply scoffed. “You’d better not be here in fifteen minutes, outlander.” Marth didn’t say anything, simply scowling demonstratively at them as they walked away.

He spent some time still waiting for Dalanesca to return. Dalanesca being Dalanesca, he did of course not notice her presence until she spoke. Marth startled, and spun around, his hand coated in fire, stopping his hand just centimetres away from Dalanesca, his eyes wide and lips pursed in momentary hostile terror. The strike never landed, however, and as marth registered Dalanesca’s visage, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes - in a mix of relief and frustration. “Jebote, Dalanesca,” he cried out, the Wyllmochvarian curse serving to emphasize how startled he was. “You know I startle easily,” he continued, taking a moment to compose himself. The unpleasant surprise clearly left him a little annoyed, for he spoke with an annoyed tone later.

“Well, alright, then. Let’s get inside before the guards show up and start bitching about loitering.” He brusquely led the way, his left hand shaking slightly. As he made his way inside, however, the shock seemed to have washed past him, and as they entered the mansion, the annoyance in his tone was gone. “Alright, let’s see.” He took a moment to think. “He’ll have kept the correspondence with his employer for leverage and protection,” he began, analyzing the situation. “But safe, most likely under lock and key.” He kept to his train of thought, his mind rushing with ideas and angles, calculating the most likely habits of the dark wizard who called this place home. “Man kept with low-end company, so he’s not one to trust. That means the location will be hidden away in some manner, most likely in the same room as he opens and reads his mail.” The following conclusion was fairly straightforward. “We’re looking for a safe or strongbox tucked away out of sight in his study or main office,” he concluded, “probably not disguised, but potentially camouflaged.” He turned to Dalanesca, smiling sadly. “So… Let’s see if that pakšu Borza was telling the truth.”

Dalanesca froze, taken off guard by the near-attack from Marth.  She had no intentions of startling him, but apparently had not thought deeply enough about what method in which to show him she had appeared.  Standing still for a moment, she remained silent, slightly unsure as to how she should react to the given situation.  She understood why Marth was taken off guard, and truth be told she realized that she could have probably made herself more obvious… but it came to prove just how unstable Marth really was, even with her helping him to stay in control.  She did not understand Wyllmochvarian, but she could tell by the inflection that the word Marth uttered before her name was not entirely pleasant.  “Sorry,” she said, quietly, but it was clear in her voice that she felt more than a bit worried about the fact that he had been so close to attacking her from just a poorly announced arrival.

Rather than getting into a tiff with Marth about the situation, Dalanesca just remained silent as he led the way into the mansion, trailing a bit behind him with her guard up, just in case.  She was glad to see, however, that the annoyed tone had left his voice by the time they had made their way into the house - though she still felt a bit downtrodden at the events that had unfolded.  

Even through her disheartened mood, Dalanesca listened carefully to everything Marth said to her.  After he finished his explanations, she remained in the middle of the hall that they stood in, motionless for a moment.  The door directly to her right led to a library, with a large desk inside of it.  “Borza’s study,” she said, barely above a whisper, nodding her head in the direction of the door.  She slowly crept towards the door, taking caution to not make any noise.  Though the two were currently alone, there were no guarantees that they would remain that way.

After entering the study, she looked around for a moment before bee-lining to the large desk towards the back center of the room.  She pulled out the large chair and sat down, eyeing the desk in front of her.  It was completely covered in crumpled and folded papers, empty envelopes, bits of parchment with random scribbles on them, and many other things.  She frowned, not wanting to move any of the items from their current location - but then she remembered that Borza was dead, and the likelihood that the groundskeepers would check the location of his papers on his desk was quite low.

She began to rifle through them, noting that most of them were about different properties the man seemed to own, contracts for thievery (jewels, money, people), and other low-lighted things.  She scoffed, tossing them to the side - these were clearly not what she was looking for.  She pulled the top-left drawer of the desk, finding it to be locked.  Smirking to herself, she pulled out her lockpicks, gaining entrance in mere seconds.  More papers filled the drawer, with seemingly unimportant things scrawled upon them.  With a sigh, she rifled through them, finding nothing useful, until her hand brushed something hard and metallic.

From within the drawer, Dalanesca pulled out a smallish metal chest.  Picking the locking mechanism easily enough, she pulled out several thick parchments, folded up so they would fit within the confines of the chest.  As she unfolded them, it was clear to her they were not written in any dialect she understood - it was clear the words were Wyllmochvarian.  She could make out a few things here and there, but nothing conclusive enough to give light to what the document was about.  Assuming it was of some importance, she called to Marth.  “Marth… I think I’ve found something,” she said, seeing if she could discern anything else from the parchment before her companion took it.

Marth looked as Dalanesca went into Borza’s study, rummaging through his things. While she handled the study, Marth took a look at Borza’s collection of books. Contrary to Marth’s imagination (he’d made himself some fairly coloured prejudices), Borza appeared to be a highly educated man, who enjoyed reads of classical fiction, modern treatises on politics and religion, economic tomes, and a series of books touching on the subject of interior aesthetics. Upon reflection, Marth could see why. The decor of the place was elegant, high-end and actually quite beautiful. Whatever Borza was as a person, he certainly knew how to make a fine home.

Marth’s attention was taken by another matter, however, as Dalanesca proclaimed she may had found something. Marth strode over, seeing Dalanesca huddled over several pieces of parchment, immediately recognizing his native tongue. That was not all, however. “That’s… That’s Kavesz’ penmanship -…” Marth couldn’t quite bring himself to finish the sentence. Seeing the handwriting of his old mentor, Marth looked away for a moment, rubbing his eyes. This is too much. Gotten too deep into the rabbit hole, have we? Silence. Bah, you’re no fun. Besides, the she-god is here. Nothin’ I can do anyway, Reaver’s voice echoed, taunting Marth for the faith he’d held in the man who was once his teacher and commander. However, he steeled his resolve, and impatiently spun around, tears forming in his eyes as he grabbed the piece of parchment brusquely, and began translating the script.

“Devil Eyes Borza, I write to you today because I have a job of sensitive nature that needs doing,” Marth read aloud, his voice shaking ever so slightly. Weather it was sorrow, anger, or fear was hard to tell, for while distraught, Marth was fixated on the text, his desire and sense of duty to find and destroy the shards outweighing the gravity of the situation. “A job suitable, perhaps, for a man of your particular talents. While I shall not reveal names, a mutual associate of ours told me you were the man to find magical artifacts of a dangerous nature. The republic of Wyllmochvar, while enlightened, does not have leadership possessed of the faculties required to realise the potential of the item I wish you to find,” Marth continued, his speech growing ever more rapid as he tried to retain some sense of calm whilst reading. “And so I turn to you to fulfill my homeland’s destiny. I need you to track down and retrieve any shard of the archdemon known as Reaver you might find, as they will surely prove invaluable assets in a Wyllmochvarian republican arsenal.” Marth closed his eyes, composing himself for a moment. After a brief pause, he forced himself to continue - his face a melting pot of expressions, hitting almost every contortion on the negative spectrum of facial expressions. “I advise you to exercise extreme caution in handling them, as I have already lost…” Marth’s voice trailed off, and he took a longer pause.

Marth’s eyes slowly widened. The emotional chaos that was once his face turned into a single, primal visage: Fury. A great and terrible fury at betrayal, a fuming rage unquenchable by all love and compassion, rivalled in intensity only by the hottest flaming desire in the hearts of lesser men with greater ambitions. Marth’s voice no longer shook. It fact, it was no longer even quite his own. His anger was in fact so great, so stifling to all who were sensitive to such things, that even the flaming violence of Reaver was suffocated by it, and a deep, baryton voice escaped Marth’s mouth, accompanied by the molten, slitted eyes of a salamander, and the forming of red scales around the edges of his scalp. “As I have already lost one of my most useful pawns to the shards’ powers, beyond all recovery and use. His name is Marth Coralax, and last I heard, his possessed form was ravaging the countryside, a testament to the…” Marth took a deep breath. “A testament to the usefulness of the shards’ powers.” Marth curled the parchment in his fist, and the temperature in the room rose by several degrees. “That’s it. Senator Kavesz Morlaverli must die.”

Dalanesca snapped to attention when Marth spoke of Kavesz, the name ringing familiar in her ears.  The tone of his voice gave way to the amount that just this information upset him, but when he spun back towards her she could see it in his face as well.  She frowned as she listened to the disappointment and feeling of betrayal in his voice.  As he went on, Dalanesca could most certainly sense his rage, feeling her own seep up from deep within her.  The longer that Marth continued reading, the deeper it seemed to go.  

She said nothing at first, remaining silent as Marth continued to read.  The words that he read off of the parchment seemed to confirm what Borza had said to him in the first place - that the Senator who had mentored Marth was indeed involved in all of this mess - and it also seemed that he was going to continue to seek the remaining shards of Reaver, as well.  She knew, without Marth even explaining the gravity of the situation, that they could not allow this to happen - but thwas to be dealt with once more details were known.  

Dalanesca’s own eyes widened as she saw the scene unfolding before her - something was changing about Marth, but it was not the change brought on by Reaver as she had previously witnessed.  This was something altogether different, and at first she could not understand what was happening, other than the fact that Marth’s face exuded pure anger.  The aura that resonated from him made her slightly uncomfortable, as it was not black, nor white, nor gray to her - but red; and it was with this that she realized the fury within Marth was what was fueling the changes.  

As she saw how angry he grew, she could feel herself growing angry as well.  This was not some side effect of the changes that Marth underwent, but rather the effect of seeing the man that she loved betrayed, seeing him so enraged at something.  Her hands shook as she stood from the chair at Borza’s desk and moved to stand next to Marth, noting the change in his voice.  As he spoke of the Senator’s death being a necessity, she could feel that what he said was true - such wrongdoing could only be remedied with death.  She could feel the heat of the room on her face, but she looked at Marth, speaking to him in a steady flow of voice.  “Then we’ll kill him.  The scales will tip in our favor.  We’ll tear him limb from fucking limb,” she said, her own anger audibly apparent in her voice, coupled with cursing so unlike her regular speech.  In normal circumstances, she would have sought to comfort Marth with physical affection and an embrace, but this situation did not call for this sort of remedy.  

Though she was entirely curious as to what was happening to Marth at this current moment, she supposed he would explain with due time.  Now, what was necessary was determining where they needed to head next, or what needed to happen.  “Does it give any indication of where he is?" She said, speaking of the Senator, hoping that the letter would offer at least some hint as to where they should go next.

Marth pocketed the crumpled letter and the rest of the documentation, his molten-glow reptilian eyes walking up to a world map hanging on the wall. “He has a seat in Wyllmochvar’s senate. This leaves two options.” Even when infuriated, the strategist in Marth assessed all the angles thuroughly. “We attempt to expose him, draw him out, and take him down in Wyllmochvar,” he began, “or we take him down on one of his travels. Where he is right now is impossible to assess, but senators are high-profile. Finding out will be easy.”

He turned and looked at Dalanesca, his eyes blazing with fury. There was nothing in his aura that suggested she was the object of his rage in any way - but when he spoke, he was insistent. “If you want anything here, search fast. I intend to burn this wretched villa to the ground,” he stated, clearly wanting to send a message.

Dalanesca listened closely to Marth as he described the options available to them.  “While it might be easier to determine his location in Wyllmochvar, do you think we would meet less resistance if we were to find his location and ambush him on the road?” she asked.  She assumed that the senate house in Wyllmochvar would not exactly be absent of people, and while a high-profile person would be travelling with multiple people, it would more than likely be easier to strike given the smaller numbers.  She would leave it up to Marth to decide in the end, but offered her thoughts nevertheless.

Though she could see the anger in his eyes, she could tell it was not directed at her; and though his words seemed harsh and commanding, she knew that he had other things on his mind than tact.  She nodded, her eyes dancing towards an obsidian dagger sitting on the mantle of the fireplace in the corner.  It was beautiful, hewn with black metal and an obsidian blade.  She darted over, grabbing it from its stand, and moved quickly back over to Marth.  “Ready,” she said, tucking the dagger into one of her sheaths.  She could not very well have let such a beautiful piece perish in flames. 

She walked over to the doorway, waiting for Marth - ready to see the structure which housed information that had upset Marth so much incinerate before her eyes.