Enemies are close


There was a knock on the bedroom door, and shortly after Maiija entered the room, a letter in her hand.  The poor girl had clearly been running and Ana looked at her, eyebrow raised.

“What is it?”

“Urgent mail, Misses Singsorrow, “the girl handed her the letter and Ana nodded.

“Alright, thank you.  Leave me, now.”  She waved her hand in a flicking motion towards the door as if to tell the girl to shoo, and the girl did nod respectfully and turned to hurry out of the room; only she didn’t get far before Ana called her right back again.

“Maiija!  Come back, please.”

And the girl simply stood there beside the table as Ana re-read the words one more time, just to make sure that she understood it perfectly.  The girl who had written the letter, Lylah, Ana had been none too happy about taking on as an employee, but evidently, already, it seemed that she would have her uses.  Tindómiel had said that finding things, and by extension finding out things was this girls’ strength, and rightly so, it would seem, as her eyes scanned the untidily scrawled words on the paper.  She could be talking about nobody else other than

“Felano…”  Ana spoke out loud, eyes narrowing, lips pressing together in a thin line.  She looked up at the waiting girl, and spoke as she hurriedly penned a letter back in response.  When she was done, she handed it to the girl and told her.

“Maiija, I want you to go to Silvermoon, today, find Lylah and personally deliver this letter.  And give her this, “Ana retrieved a coin pouch from the drawer on the underside of the table and filled it with silver, throwing in a couple of gold coins for measure.  She’d more than earned it, and it would ensure that she would follow through on the orders given in the letter, also, with no questions asked.

As she watched the girl quickly leave the room, pulling the door closed heavily behind her, all Ana could think about was the promise that she’d made the death knight only a few short weeks earlier.

“I will say and do what I can to be sure that judgement is served upon who is truly responsible here; not simply one who was present and made a horrendously poor choice in regards to the whole mess of a situation. You have my word, Felano.”

And she had been true to her word.  She had taken care of it, and he had come to them, swearing loyalty to the Order and offering his own self in service as a means to repay his debt to them for his part in what had taken place before it.  They had been lenient, and fair.  But glancing at the letter on the table, she realized with a sadness that perhaps she had acted too hastily in approaching the problem with her heart instead of her head, and she’d not make that mistake again.  He was not to be trusted.  Nobody was.

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