As thunder rolled over the steep roofs of Ildemar and heavy rain drummed on their polished green tiles, inside the castle tensions were rising. Amidst loud screams and curses, two words managed to reign in the unruly spirits.

“That’s enough!”

It wasn’t a shout, rather more of a low murmur, but it still made everyone stop arguing in an instant and blink completely stunned. Lorelei too was surprised, or better said livid, by her own bravery to so blatantly step in and interfere in the quarrel. Now, there was no retreat, she had to stand behind her words and address the summit. She looked up and her eyes met with Noah’s. The slight curve of his lips and the sparkle in his gaze told her that he was highly amused by the situation. His leaned-back posture showed that, at least for now, he had no intention to interfere.

Trying to control the quaking of her voice, Lorelei drew strength from the initial anger that had prompted her to speak up, and stated to the confused council:

“My dear Lords and Ladies, we have gathered here to judge criminals, not bicker amongst ourselves. Your judgment should not be clouded by past grievances. I urge you to listen to Sir Aiden’s report to the end before starting to look for guilt in each other.”

“With all due respect, duchess,” Bishop Petronius said in a slow, emotionless tone while his fingers were turning the beads of his rosary, their clatter accompanying his every word, “there are some things that a newcomer can find hard to comprehend. Your highness must agree that there are times to speak and times to listen to the wisdom of your elders.”

Strangely enough, facing the disdainful reprimand of the old man head-on flustered Lorelei less than expected. All the anxiety from before seemed to melt away bit by bit, leaving only determination.

“Indeed, your holiness,” she said with a polite smile, “there are times to speak and times to listen. And this wisdom applies to everyone around this table.”

The sudden coughing sounds coming from her right alerted Lorelei of the not-so-successful attempts on Sir Gregor’s side to control his laughter. Noah and Sir Duncan were doing much better in that regard but there was an unmistakable sparkle in their eyes. The same went for baba Tevishka, who was staring at her with obvious interest. Unfortunately, Lorelei’s retort did not amuse the old cleric.

Bishop Petronius carefully laid his rosary on the table and threw a chilling gaze at the young woman.

“Sharp tongue and quick wit are a sign of youth and a road to disaster. A fish can never turn into a swan, oil and water could never mix. There are rifts and grievances between our people running deep into our blood and bones that must not be taken lightly. You seem eager to participate in state matters, my child, a notion commendable but unbecoming of someone your age or status. The Duchess of Norden should not put any blemish on her husband’s good name by acting impudent and out of order on matters she has no knowledge of. Such actions are more becoming of a little girl, not the lady of the land.”

Lorelei felt the fingers of the Mother Prioress on her hand flinching and could see the old woman frowning. To her right, Gregor’s smile had turned sour and she could swear that his usually tranquil blue eyes were now shimmering with strange silver light. The wrinkle between Noah’s brows had also deepened although he remained silent.

Despite the palpable tension in the room, Lorelei felt strangely at peace. It was so peculiar. She had reached a place of unnatural calmness just like when she bit the masked master Argente or faced the dhrowghost. Her next actions were most likely going to be reckless but she also knew that she would see them through. Maybe she was finally touching on master Levi's life-philosophy of going with the flow? Or perhaps there was something in Noah's deceivingly calm face that emboldened her?

“I am not taking anything lightly, your holiness,” she replied innocently. “But, nevertheless, thank you for enlightening me on the matter. Oil and water could never mix? I never knew that there were immovable and unchangeable things in the world, much less the hearts of people. Didn’t the Father of Darkness state: ‘For everything under the Sun, under the Sea and in the Earth, for every beating Heart and growing Sprout, I am the End. I am the One turning Flesh to Dust, Dust to Seed, and Seed to Flesh. I am the Change and everything under these skies is Clay for Me to reshape and for Father Light to breathe new life into.’ Be it Limerians or Binshi, in the eyes of the Gods, we are equal. So, who are we, mere mortals, to question the Gods’ words and draw lines where none exist?”

For a second, time stopped and all eyes shifted from her to the old cleric.

“Impudent!” The bishop’s tone was so cold that it could freeze one’s soul. “How dare you preach to me how to interpret the Holy verses? How dare you question my words? Who do you think you are? A little girl forgetting her place out of vanity!”

Lorelei was about to retort but someone else was faster this time.

“And who would dare to question the right of the mistress to speak her mind under her own roof?” Noah’s voice was velvety and calm but there were some purring notes in it, hinting at a beast ready to attack. “Bishop Petronius, it seems that there has been some misunderstanding. My wife is here today not to act as a decoration, as beautiful as she might be, but as an equal participant in this council. I have gathered you here to share valuable information on matters involving both Binshi and Limerians alike. So, if you and everyone else could exhibit a bit of the patience so highly praised and preached by the Saints, I guarantee that you won’t regret it. Besides, everyone here is dedicated to serve and protect the wellbeing of all the people in Yalda and the Ducal Lands, unless you have decided to retire from your post?”

Lorelei felt the heat rising to her face from Noah’s out-of-place compliment but, at the same time, she was grateful for his timely interference. Indeed, his domineering presence was something only a true leader could muster.

The tension didn't quite lessened but rather shifted. Nevertheless, it seemed that everyone around the table was ready to take a step back, the flames from before reducing to smoldering embers. Bishop Petronius threw a vicious but defeated glance at his duke and remained silent, chewing on his lips with a scornful expression. Still, for a brief moment, Lorelei could swear she saw fear in the old man’s eyes. It was indeed a good thing that the fearsome Beast of Norden was on her side in this conflict.

Meanwhile, Sir Aiden resumed his report as if nothing had interrupted it.

“Together with master Colin, we checked the lists with the ships leaving the harbor for the past months. It turned out that there are discrepancies in the amount of port taxes paid and the number of ships passing through the gate of Tor and Taren, with more ships exiting Tight-pass fjord than ever officially entering Yalda. What's more, a good part of them were long-voyage vessels. This was concerning since we are the last water station in a week's sail. The southeast shores of Tight-pass fjord are either too steep for the crew to go draw water inland, or there are too many hidden shallows for a large ship to be able to navigate safely. No captain on a long-voyage vessel would neglect to refill the water rations in Yalda and waste time looking for new water stations mid-journey. We dug in and it turned out that some of the harbor workers have been bribed well enough to keep their eyes shut for select incoming and departing vessels, sending them to one of the old shipyards without filling anything in the port ledgers."

"What happened to those sniveling rats?" Duncan's voice boomed for the first time since the start of the meeting.

"All have been taken into custody, my lord." This time it was the turn of Foreman Colin to answer. "What is more, Sir Aiden and my humble self compared the numbers of missing children from Yalda, as far as we have them, with the number of ships we believe to be part of the slave trade, and the number is too low. We suspect that some other shipments have been just transiting through Yalda via flat-boats from other parts of the fjord and then being loaded on the larger ships. As of now, we cannot determine the exact size of the operation.”

“Other shipments?” the face of the Mother Prioress paled. “You mean there were even more girls being kidnapped and sold off?”

“I am afraid that is the case,” said Noah. “It seems the operation was more well-organized than we could have ever imagined with someone powerful backing them up from the shadows. If my fears are valid, there is a chance that the bandit raids mid-winter, that drove the refugees from the borders to our city, are also connected to this. But it gets worse."

He motioned to baba Tevishka who rummaged in her pouch, her face scrunched up in an angry expression, and placed a small bottle with some golden-colored liquid on the table.

"We found it on one of the girls," spat the old Binshi through clenched teeth. "It is some sort of drug. When we tried to take it away, the poor child turned berserk. She bit two of the other girls, trashed the whole room, and, in the end, tried to kill herself by clawing up her own wrists. We were forced to bind her to the bed. It has been three days and she still screams, spits out her food, and begs us to give her back "The Angel's tears". Even the strongest herbs our shamans gave her were useless. That child... If nothing changes, she will die by the middle of next week."

By the time she finished speaking, all the anger had disappeared from her voice, replaced by heartwrenching desperation. She looked just like a frail old grandma, not the stubborn, outspoken warrior that had butted heads with Fat Edwin De Roy just minutes before. Everyone around the table stared at the small flask in grim silence, as if expecting it to explode in their faces.

“Dear Saints!” Mayor Preston gave out the sound of deflating bellows and looked on the verge of crying. “My lord, I swear, I had no idea. I have not…”

“I am not suspecting you, Preston,” Noah snorted. “The backer is much higher than a mere mayor or the lord of a small fief.”

“Having enough funds and manpower to organize a large-scale trafficking ring and pay bribes and people to guard the merchandise, having the facilities to keep the slaves, and possessing the connections to sale them on the mainland,” Fat Edwin scratched his beard summarizing, much calmer now than a few minutes before. “And add to that having connections to a pharmacist that can cook a drug like that. It has to be a big overseas trading company. Except, none of the merchants I know is stupid or brazen enough to attempt something like this under the very nose of the Duke of Norden. This stinks of high nobility.”

There were some whispers around the table.

“But why?” The question came from the Mother Prioress. “Why would someone be so reckless? Conducting illegal trade in the Ducal Lands is like begging to get caught and quartered.”

“Indeed,” nodded the harbor-foreman confused while scratching his short hair. “Honestly, if it was me, I would have set my base of operation either in Blue-Harbor or in one of the ports of Baron Rowell. Like that, the voyage to the mainland shortens considerably.”

“Clever lad,” boomed Duncan’s voice. “That is, if slave trade was the only intention of those vermin.”

“Meaning?” the bushy brows of Fat Edwin twitched.

“Meaning that the Red Hands were behind all this,” answered Noah.

As his words fell, there were some loud curses around the table.

“Fathers of Light and Darkness! So, the duchess' fears were true!” The Mother Prioress covered her mouth with a bony hand.

“Without a doubt,” nodded Sir Aiden. “Some of the people we caught were branded. As for the ones that weren’t, we are still trying to determine whether they are members of the Cult or not.”

“Kidnapping and selling half-breeds, who little to no one cares about, for profit. Basing their operation under the duke’s nose so in case of getting caught they would destroy his name and reputation as protector of the people.” Bishop Petronius decided to break his silence and there was some glee in his voice. “These are not tactics usually used by those white savages.”

“You heartless dral…” baba Tevishka spat out and was about to say even more but was interrupted by Gregor, who finally decided to join the chaos.

“Calm down, baba. His holiness is right, the way the Red Hands are acting right now is not the way of us Binshi. But it is also normal. The branded ones we caught were mostly Limerian.”

“What!?” Bishop Petronius almost jumped out of his seat. “So, the rumors of humans joining the ranks of those blood-crazed demons are true? Guiding innocent Limerian souls towards darkness, what kind of witchcraft is this?”

“It is called greed, your holiness,” answered Gregor, pretending not to hear the old man deeming all his people ‘inhuman’. “But you are right, one of their goals was to ruin the duke’s reputation.”

The young knight looked at his lord. Locking his fingers together, Noah nodded and turned to Lorelei.

“I have already mentioned this but my wife is here today to share some valuable information concerning the case. It is an important and delicate matter and I trust you all to keep everything you hear today to yourselves. I would be heartbroken if I were to hear any rumors circulating after this meeting.”

“Don’t worry, my lord,” snorted Duncan giving the whole table a stern look. “I believe that everyone here cares about your highness’ health as they do for their own wellbeing.”

Lorelei felt ants crawling down her spine and, by the flustered looks of several of the people around the table, it seemed that the message had been received clearly. Noah fixed her with his eyes.

“My duchess, if you don’t mind, would you tell everyone what happened on the night of the fire.”

Lorelei felt a sharp pain stabbing her chest but braced herself and nodded. The voice that escaped her lips seemed distant and devoid of emotion as she started narrating.