The countess, as Terry suspected, had indeed taken to living in the markerichter's house. By Malodellian standards, the building was in a remarkably good state, both on the in- and outside; the mage suspected evil Duke What's-his-name had intended to house one of his own officials in it once the village had been subjugated and had thus ordered his men to try and leave it intact.

The home had long since been stripped of any valuables it may have contained, but much of the dead markerichter's old furniture remained. The wooden tables and chairs had suffered with age, though, and likely contained termites Terry wanted nothing to do with. She noticed the countess had tried bringing order to the chaos, but ultimately failed. The amount of knick-knacks lying around, some distinctly magical in nature, contributed to an overall disheveled look. Terry wondered about the countess's precise connection to Credi once more.

She didn't ask, though, as Audren's health and survival were the women's top priority now. They moved him to a small room upstairs, devoid of all furniture save for a straw-filled mattress, pillows of the same kind scattered across the floor, a bloodstained blanket and a corner full of herbs, potions and other medicinal substances. Terry found the sight of it depressing and suspicious, which must've shown on her face as they placed Audren on the mattress. The state of the blanket especially made her frown.

"This is where I treat my guests," the countess explained, almost as if reading her mind. "Some are wounded, hence the blood. Some turn out to be bitten, and then I can't help them anymore. All I can do is try my best for them."

The countess continued to speak as she administered the cure for Wraith's Affliction, a potion to cleanse the soul, and also gave Audren another potion Terry recognised, but couldn't pinpoint. It was presumably meant to alleviate pain and discomfort or strengthen his body as it combatted his supernatural disease. Terry's father would've known what it was, but she'd never been terribly interested in his craft. What she was interested in was the countess' story, for she spoke of Credi, her family's long-term advisor: how he'd feared wraiths terribly, which was why he'd owned the Wraithsbane artifact and a supply of cleansing potions. He'd taught a young Limnaia, intrigued by these things, how to use them.

"Funny you should mention Credi," Terry told the noblewomam once she seemed done, when Audren's skin colour had turned more natural again and his breathing had grown less shallow. He'd need time to rest and recover and she didn't know how long it would be until he regained consciousness, but at least he wasn't in mortal danger anymore. "He's the reason we came here. Why we were looking for you."

"Is that so?" The countess sat down on a pillow opposite of the one Terry had settled on. It would be wise to sit with Audren a while longer, to make sure he wouldn't experience any side-effects the potion could bring. "What's your name, by the way? I'd very much appreciate knowing who I'm speaking with."

"Terreia." She didn't provide her last name; you never knew what strange aristocrats could do with such information. "I don't believe I've thanked you for saving our lives just now, so... Thank you. Although..." she paused, unable to keep hints of suspicion out of her voice. "It is a bit odd you didn't come help us sooner. Could've saved Lord Audren the pain."

"You think?"

"Yes. I've heard you're here to help survivors, and it really is a... peculiar choice of place, considering the presence of the wraiths. I figure you may be using them to keep bandits away, and that you use the staff to help those sent here by the nymphs to help them. The wraiths are noisy, so you're easily alerted of new arrivals. I doubt you have much to do here other than watching out for those, so you could have come to our aid before that wraith touched Lord Audren's soul."

"Perceptive, aren't you?" A harshness came over the countess's eyes. "I'll admit... I waited before revealing myself. I have enough medication to treat the Wraith's Affliction, and... Well, it looked like you had things under control. I noticed you're a necromancer and it caught me off guard. I couldn't help but let my mind be consumed by thoughts of the Cursed."

Terry found this a terribly weak excuse, but the countess seemed willing to talk, which she didn't wish to change. She let it slide for now. "It wasn't a necromancer who created them," she noted instead.

"I know. It was Rosangelo."

"Credi?" Terry raised an eyebrow. "Don't get me wrong, I believe the same. But you sound like you have the evidence to prove it."

"I do." Countess' Limnaia's face was an unsmiling, emotionless mask. "When the Cursed first appeared in my city, I realised quickly enough they didn't target me. I suppose the rumour of my true mother being a nymph really is true. Either way, the only mage I knew to be talented enough to create the curse was Rosangelo. I went to pay a visit to the tower he lived in and... I found him. I did. On the ground, bruised and bloody, bones broken and neck twisted in an odd angle. He'd jumped out of his window."

"So he is dead..."

The countess nodded. "Yes. I entered his tower to see if he'd... If he'd left something behind. A way to break the curse. All I found was a short note that didn't say anything substantial. I realised there was nothing I could do, so I scoured his tower and took everything I believed could be useful. With my lands empty and my people turning into monsters, I decided I couldn't stay in my castle and rule as usual. I'd only be useless and a target for bandits. So I set off for Nymphenwald, understood I could live safely in Malodell thanks to Rosangelo's staff and figured I could do my best and help survivors from here."

Terry supposed that sounded at least somewhat plausible. "If you're certain of Credi's guilt, what's my magic to you?"

The noblewoman sighed. "I simply haven't met any mages since coming here, but I believe those with magic have the best chance of figuring this curse out and breaking it. Especially those working in branches of magic dealing with the dead. You said you and Lord Audren came to talk about Rosangelo. Does that mean you intend to try and break the curse?"

An eagerness, almost desperate, lay in Limnaia's features. Unsurprising. As she'd said, the countess had lost her lands, her home, her people. Her power. As Countess of Santonshire, she'd been someone; here, she was nobody, just another person scraping by. Even if she got some sort of fulfillment out of helping survivors, it wouldn't compare to the allure of wealth, fancy banquets and balls, the world at her feet.

"It was his idea," Terry said with a glance at the unconscious Audren. "I'm just tagging along. But yes, we are trying to break the curse. So far, we've learnt it only targets humans, but to break it, we need to know why Credi created it. You knew him personally. We were hoping you'd be able to tell us more about his motive. What do you suspect?"

She swore the countess's expression hardened and darkened, just for a split second, but that could've been her imagination.

"I fear I have to disappoint you. I'm as lost as you are. I mean... it's no secret that Rosangelo loathed the moral decay he perceived in Santonshire. I'll admit my predecessors haven't ruled as well as they could have, and the injustice our advisor saw daily can definitely be a motive for a... disillusionment with humans and a subsequent decision to curse every last one. But when I became Countess of Santonshire at the start of the year, I vowed to do better. I don't... I don't understand why he'd cast his curse while things were looking up instead of much earlier, when my father still ruled."

Damn it. The countess simply regurgitated everything Terry and Audren had figured out themselves. The mage's thoughts raced as she considered her options. If this was all the information she could get from this woman, she and Audren had officially failed, had no leads left to pursue. They'd have to go back to the mountains with nothing but bad news.

Unless...

In a moment of brightness, Terry recalled what the countess had said about Credi's tower earlier.

"Countess Limnaia," she began, tentatively hopeful, "when you told me about your visit to Credi's tower, you mentioned a note he left. Did you happen to bring it? It may have looked useless to you, but it might mean something to me. One mage to the other."

The countess scrambled to her feet, made her way to her herbs and concoctions, Credi's old things. She produced a note and handed it to Terry. "I kept it just in case a curse-breaker could have some use for it. You're free to take a look. Do you think you can work with it, at first glance?"

Terry studied Credi's note, his scratchy handwriting, the few sentence written in thick ink.

'I believe that, in this world, my curse will never be broken. But I sincerely hope I'm wrong."

So Credi wished for someone to break his curse. But how? Terry held the note in her hands, aware of its value. The words may not have been obviously helpful, but she knew she could use her magic to work with it. She looked up at the countess, gazed into her eyes, dark, dark eyes, and considered telling her about her plan.

Then she decided against it.

What did she know about this woman, other than what she'd just been told? The answer was nothing. Why spill the details of necromantic work to this strange, depowered noble? Terry thought about her weak reason for helping her and Audren so late, the hardening of her expression when talking about Credi's motive, even the damned bloody blanket. Her gut feeling told her to tread with caution.

"I'll have to think about it some more," she heard herself say, "but I'm afraid you might be right. This is just a useless little note."

The countess gave her a sad smile that didn't reach her eyes. "A shame," she said simply. Terry could clearly make out hints of contempt.

For the first time in her life, the mage felt as if she'd outlived her usefulness. The thought disturbed her more than anything.