The Judge nervous cast a handful of sticks into a bowl, the sound of them clattering to rest inside the porcelain was oddly soothing, he looked into the bowl, hoping these old soothsayer techniques would divine some inscrutable wisdom about his predicament. The result was not encouraging.

He looked over his desk towards the Marshal. He and his brother had heard the testimonies of those involved and had seen the evidence gathered. All that was left was to pass judgment.

He looked down at a sheet of paper and sighed, began drafting a letter to the Blessed in Serpents Bend. He wrote in a beautiful flowing script that resembled the twisting of leaves on the wind, a near-seamless unbroken line of twists and fluted peaks. with that done, he sealed the letter in gray wax.

Without saying another word he set down his pen brush, handed the doomed letter to the Marshal.

"Take this to the men who found this mysterious woman, they are to take her to Serpents Bend and meet with the Blessed there. The Blessed will send a letter detailing what must be done based on his findings."

The Marshal took it and left, Borson watched his brother go. When he heard the door close behind, he waited a moment, counting their footsteps before relaxing.

"Thank the Birds" he sighed, then reached under his table and brought out a different sheet of paper, and a bottle of stiff wine.

The page was charcoal grey and edged with red ink. On it, he wrote in the same flowing characters that he had before. The dark colors became keenly difficult to read except for those whose eye's were trained for it or had access to a special wash, powerful enough to remove the gray dye, but not the ink.

He signed it again, then, moving away from his desk, walked to a small birdcage and produced a cooing little bird, a Sparrow. He let it rest on his finger for a moment, weighing it like it was made of gold, then carefully set the small creature down onto his desk, and began folding the note into a small shape. From the secret drawer, he produced a length of string and a metal tube. He slid the paper into the tube and then tied it to the small bird's leg, sealing it with the same gray wax. To prove both authenticity and security.

Taking the little creature up in his arms once more, he opened a window, and set it loose towards its mission. The Bird would reach Serpents Bend long before the three travelers would, and then.

Well, the contents of the Letter explained his suspicions. Two men and a potentially Demonic woman would arrive in a few days, the ritual test of Honey and Flowers would be given and if even one of them failed, All would be killed.

They would be identified by the letter he'd just given to the Marshal for them to carry.

They would be holding their potential death warrant. But, Demons were not to be suffered. That is why the Sparrows had given him this method of covert communication, in times of strife or desperate aid, that he may contact the Blessed or Army of the Third in a swift of expedient time.

And this qualified such measures, For if the Demons were even suspected of appearing in Human form, or if men were taking on the air of Demon, as some thought to doing long ago, it could be a sign of great and terrible darkness, or worse. An Uprising.

He shuddered to think of that, he hadn't known much of those times, but many had such names as The Army of Night, the Tolling March, or Rage of the Great Hammers, each terrible legend rang in his head from when he'd learned his duties from the Scholars of the Fourth Circle.

It would be his duty to put such things to ash now, rather than risk the whole of the Nine Circles and the Heavens themselves with doubts and ignorance.

Let the Blessed sort them out.

If they were innocent, let the Sparrows save them, if not. They would falter and be crushed by the weight of their transgressions. The Demon stranger along with them.

Such is the way of the things, As the Heavens have written.