Maersk Atral stood across from Don with fire and fear in his eyes. "My boy, do you know what you have just done." Maersk paused realizing what he said. "That was an Abyss-walker, a fiend with all the powers of a demon with none of their limit. the Abyss-walkers only follow the most basic rule of magic, something equal must be exchanged. You know what that means?"
There was a long awkward silence as Maersk waited for an answer, though Don couldn't tell if it was rhetorical or not. He kept a straight face, avoiding to show the regret that sank in. He knew he messed up, but he didn't know how as magic was not his forte. The only experience he had in the subject besides research into various mythologies was Tolkien. "Magic must be an equal trade." That means to save the lives of those three he accidentally condemned three people to death or is this meeting his certain doom.
"I'm going to die." Don said flatly. He watched as the Knight nodded slowly in response.
"I will need to head out. I will have Cania serve you in the meantime. Please don't try to get into any more infernal pacts while I am gone." Maersk began walking out to the door before pausing as if he remembered something. "Feel free to walk around, I believe after all this you need some fresh air; though please try to stay within the walls." Maersk soon left Don alone with his thoughts, something he didn't want at this moment. He was alone in a foreign world, with no way back that he knew of, with an honest to god demon nipping at his heals.
"I need a drink." Don mumbled to himself as he began perusing the now impaled bookshelves for something to read.
*** *** ***
A woman followed behind a pair of elderly gentlemen. Each step in sync as they strolled down a maze of corridors, on occasion speaking to a page or issuing orders to a warrior. The men's conversation bounced between a dozen topics, changing with each room entered and each corner turned. The woman chimed in with her opinions or suggestions on occasion but as a whole remained silent. The trio was clad in expensive; but tasteful clothes. The woman herself was wearing a black gown, Three layers too thick for the early summer sun. On occasion, she saw glimmer of morning light move unnaturally or the distanced clattering of armor to tell her that they were in true privacy.
She carried serious demeanor, attentively listening to each word the older pair said. "…My Liege, it is a complete possibility that this was within our borders. We must muster a force to go immediately, this is not something we can simply flounder."
"Prixal, you have the patience of a boar, but I do agree you have a point here. The issue is this happened in the far north of the realm, at least according to the Scryers. We bring a real force there the Northmen will tear down upon us with a wave of unrelenting fury. This needs a light hand; do you not agree Karya?"
Upon hearing her name the woman jumped to attention. "Yes, your majesty. Seeing how that the incident took place in the most northern borders, either Duke Reveire's lands and that of Prince-Bishop Atterman's. we can't ignore the Shade Elf exclave that lays within Datal either. I suggest a small team to detail and properly investigate properly, no more than four or five good men."
The older of the pair, Prixal glared at Karya, scarcely hiding contempt. Prixal clearly spent a youth in the wild and the rest of his life in a dining hall, Thick muscular arms blended into a rotund chest. A balding head spotted with the marks of an adventuring life, some may of considered it a heroic appearance if not for the two large chins and the round cheeks that he had cultivated through years of gluttony. "You know better than any of us how Savage and barbaric the Northern border is, especially now that there's the Orc King and the She-wolf of Valtag skulking about. Can you even fantom what it would mean if one of them caused this, or another infamous scoundrel." His tirade was less for Karya and more for the third member of the group, The King of the realm Baylor The Ever-living. They both watched as the monarch quietly contemplated their points. "It has been some years since I went up campaigning to the north, fifty maybe sixty years ago, its shocking how dangerous a place can become when you take your eye off of it." He had the tone of a grandfather remising about his past, a soft flowing tone that some said was a form of magic. "I did not realize how poor the north had become, and so I must apologize to you Prixal."
The older man puffed up upon hearing the king personally apologize to him. "It is nothing my Liege, a discussion will eventually become heated when the fate of the realm is at hand."
King Baylor only responded to Prixal with a slight smile before continuing. "Though I still have to standby Karya's view. We must be deft in this matter, as such there are few I can trust with this. Karya, I want you to lead this expedition; take whoever you wish and take what you need. All I ask before you depart is to give you planned route to Sir Bruckmann or Istegal so we may properly arrange for updates on the endeavor.
Karya gave a quick bow, quickly turning the opposite direction. She steeled herself before signaling
A guardsman towards her. "Tell Diros and Aethred to join me in my chamber within the hour." She began thinking of who would fill the other two spots on her team. Arriving into the main room of her chambers she began to sigh, looking at a large oil painting that hung above her mantle place. A well kept blonde man looked passively into the distance, both bookish and hearty his face brought her a feeling of warmth. "Carthin, I pray to the gods you're not caught up in this."