Gilbert could do nothing but watch as Lord Ross excused himself from the table and made his way down the street, disappearing amongst the crowd in a matter of mere moments.

He reluctantly turned to face Warren. It felt like they’d just sat down at a table with some sort of panther. “What was that all about?” He asked, picking up the cup of tea that sat in front of him. He’d forgotten it was there.

Warren sat back in his chair and leaned his head onto his hand, taking a moment to contemplate. “I’m… not quite sure…but I think it was a test,” he muttered to himself, looking past Gil, staring at the distant nothing as his mind used the focal point as an excuse to wander away from the table and follow Lord Ross.

“But do you know who he was? It seemed like the two of you knew each other quite well,” Gil insisted. He felt the need to pry now. It felt as though Warren was putting up a purposeful barrier between the two of them.

“We’ve written each other over the past few months, though I believe he probably knows quite a bit more about me then I know about him,” he muttered, his eyes retracing the man’s retreat over and over again, locked on the cobblestones and the crowds ahead, searching for something in the cracks in the street.

“That’s not what I’m asking!” Gil insisted. “Do you know who he is?” He repeated.

“You mean do I know what he is?” Warren asked, his eyes finally breaking away and turning to his companion. They held a certain intensity that Gilbert couldn’t recall having seen before, especially not directed at him. It startled him a bit, and he, in turn, directed his gaze downwards.

“I had my suspicions,” He said. “He’s never come out and directly said it, but I believe he just got as close to admitting it to an outsider as he ever will. That’s why we met in public, and I brought you with me. I knew he’d be more cautious if I did so, and in that case, he’d be less likely to do something.”

“You brought me with you as some sort of shield?!” Gil snapped, raising his voice just enough that it drew the young Lord’s Ire. “You forget yourself, Gilbert,” he said in response.

Such cold, harsh words only worked to upset Gilbert more. He was so tired of these flippant answers to such a dangerous situation. How could a man have so little care when playing with an open flame inside a house of straw. It was as if this absurd and irrational search to hold knowledge had caused him to completely forsake his better senses. He didn’t care about the consequences. He didn’t care that he could get his whole family tried, that he could get Gil hung as an accomplice! That...That he himself would suffer a fate worse than death at the hands of the Temple in an attempt to root out others.

Gil’s emotions got the better of him. He took a sharp breath, biting his lower lip to keep himself from saying something he’d regret even more. He stood, pushing the chair back as he did so.

Warren sat up straighter. “Where are you going?” he asked.

“I have other duties to perform for the household before I retire tonight.” The formality from him struck Warren like a lashing across the back and brought him back to his senses. He suddenly became acutely aware of his attitude. “Gil,” he said, catching the younger man’s hand before he had a chance to leave. Warren wanted to apologize. He’d gotten lost in thought and said something he shouldn’t have, he knew that. But it didn’t quite matter at this moment what he’d wanted to do. Gil pulled his hand free of Warren’s. “If you’ll excuse me, My Lord,” he said, before swiftly turning his back to the young assistant Governor and making his way towards the Manor home.

His title had never tasted so bitter or sounded so coarse. From Gil’s lips, it was the deepest cutting insult he’d ever heard. Warren wanted to be upset for being spoken to that way, but he knew he couldn’t. He knew the depths of Gil’s compassion and loyalty, and he’d taken advantage of it.

A groan escaped him as he pushed his hands to his face, trying to rub away the shame of his actions. He felt a sinking in his heart he hadn’t felt in a long time, a feeling that only found him when his closet companion was truly, deeply upset. The worst part was that he had been the cause of unpleasant feeling now and deserved to feel it.

He paid for the meal and left the small Cafe. He didn’t want to return back home quite yet, so he wondered amongst the people and the paths for a bit. When he was sure that no one was paying him any mind, he pulled the book that had been gifted to him out from his coat, unwrapping the cloth around it until a few theban letters poked out across the leather binding. He ran his finger across those letters, muttering unintelligible nonsense to himself.