They made the trip back in an hour or so and Ciylo dismissed Thrace as soon as they arrived. With his hand on Agassiz's shoulder he marched her straight to the main receiving hall where Marca would surely be. Ciylo pushed her through the door and then immediately fell to his right knee and crossed his aching chest with his left arm, bowing his head.
"M'lord, It was Agassiz at the border," he said quietly. Marca was indeed there and slowly stood up off his throne and made his way to Agassiz, who had by now also dropped to her knee and crossed chest. Surprisingly, the Warlord stopped in front of her and sunk to his knees and put his right hand under her chin, bringing her head up to face him.
"Agassiz," Marca whispered. The Warlord began to tremble and Ciylo raised an eyebrow behind his mask but remained silent.
"Hands. Hands. Give me your hands," he ordered her. She went down to both knees on the floor and squatting back stretched out both of her hands to the Warlord. He grabbed them feverishly and for a few moments both were silent. But as time wore on Ciylo could feel the anger rising in Marca and by the time he let her hands go he was muderishly furious. Ciylo cursed to himself. Was he ever going to find out the truth of this foursome or forever be in the dark?
"Care for her Ciylo, for tomorrow we leave for Kabine," Marca ordered, and turned, stalking off towards to the main bridge, presumably to chart the new course. Ciylo sighed and stood and snapped his fingers at Agassiz to do the same. Moving out of the hall and towards the disciples personal quarters, he made his way to Rage's old room. Shrugging to himself he thought why not? Rage wasn't using it anymore and he didn't know where else to put her. Opening the door he shoved her inside.
"The previous owner of this room is dead. Make yourself at home," he said.
She turned around and smugly said, "I hope you are enjoying my quarters Cimmerian Moff."
"Actually I am not, I was Grand Moff until recently and have not been moved so I assume I'm in Evil's quarters still. Rage was Cimmerian Moff until his death and these are his quarters. So welcome home," Ciylo said just as smugly back. "I'll send for food. Sleep tight." And with that he shut the door. He caught a droid in the hall and ordered it to feed her and bring fresh clothes and then all but sprinted to his own quarters and slammed the door behind him. He quickly removed his mask and threw it across the room in frustration. What the fuck was going on? This was beyond ridiculous anymore. He needed and wanted counsel but who could he talk to? His master, teacher, trainer had officially gone mad and Ciylo thought he himself was as well. The pain in his chest was overwhelming, his fangs had painfully punched out of his top jaw and he was fuming with anger at the stupidity of it all. He stripped down and took a quick shower and then naked, went to one of the cupboards in his room and grabbed a square bottle of spirits, downed it in one gulp and then flopped face down on his bed to whatever end the night may take him.