Somewhere in [Galjuran] territory, in a compound of The Elucidators.

Focal light cascaded down in a room of surrounding darkness. Within the spotlight, a completed painting was the star of the show. The content of which was of a head held in the hands of a faceless individual. A large bone-gate arched in a grim lilt and brushed the skyline as it drenched the earth in a rainstorm of dark droplets of liquid.

A man could be seen a few steps away from it in absent recollection, gazing upon the painting. Barely discernable flashes accompanied his unmoving silence as his arms flicked a paintbrush at another canvas to the side without looking.

Close-cut brown hair met a high forehead filled with loose wrinkles that seemed to impede sight onto his eyes like a wave-break. His eyes themselves were barely visible behind mostly lowered eyelids. Still, the star-shine from underneath them was overbearing. His mouth was a tight line, in-line with the rest of his face that was perpetually unamused or unaffected. White robes doused in speckles of different colors were his notable garb — a collage of different colored stars.

Tobio Reeche was his name. He flicked his paintbrush again, seemingly as much permission to enter as it was fated to be. In the next moment, the sound of a door opening made his ears twitch. A light came from a far off source that attempted to travel on endlessly, cutting a full slice of light that led to where he stood.

Tobio drawled out as if he hadn't spoken in weeks, "Tell me. The Prophesied Demise has been completed. Mostly."

His gaze never left the painting, Prophesied Demise, as a [Demi-Human] goat-woman walked forward, who soon stood next to him.

"Have you seen it yet? Nyathamon has been found and apparently killed. By his own former team no less, at a meet-up gone South." She said while caressing an elegant, long goat horn fixed on top of her head.

Tobio momentarily tensed at those words, but soon, was as if a calm liquid in response, "Is it believable? This one has much detail. It is completed... mostly, after all."

Golden earrings glittered in the subtle light, the woman sighed. "I expected more of a reaction; to be honest, nothing is confirmed as of yet. Brightface and Illend were involved, that much I know... and one other, a rookie, supposedly."

Tobio's hand shot out once again and spoke as a new painting began to take shape, "Cramie, I don't need supposition. You just need to confirm the foul [Illusionist] is dead."

Cramie irritably tugged on a gold chain that connected from her ear to a nostril. "I will, naturally. Even now, his head has begun to make its way to Groanmarket. The boy rookie is staying at PanQuil Caverns for the moment. We may get more information out of Brightface, Illend will likely be unreachable, and untraceable for that matter-"

Having heard enough, Tobio interjected, "The rookie. He's the softest target. It is a sensitive time now. Await the bounty evaluation." he paused before slightly tilting his head towards Cramie.

He contradicted himself in the next moment, "The Order of Solemn Entreaty has begun to make movements... On second thought, perhaps we can only rely on your tough fist of ruthless examination... Start on your way to PanQuil Caverns, alone, just in case. Use your discretion."

The slight movement had startled Cramie, but she was quick to understand. "As you wish. Should I fill the Boss-Lady in?"

Tobio splashed red paint across another canvas as a battlefield, and hundreds of charging horse riders fell into a gorge filled with dripping tendrils. "No need. She is likely already informed. She won't care so long as nothing is definitive."

Her hooves reverberated in retreat, the door closing bathed everything but where he stood in darkness.

He stood in that thin-sliced beam of light and softly spoke, "It is a pity. She'll have to do. That foul old man is the least of our problems now. I see you..."