While Ashlynn made plans with Nyrielle and her council, elsewhere in the Vale of Mists, not far from the border of the March of Lothian, another group was also seeking the lost young lady Blackwell. Or at least, they were seeking her remains.
Sir Tommin wore his full armor, though he covered it with a dull cloak. In one hand he carried a lantern and in another, a heavy flagged mace, ready to strike at any demons who discovered their intrusion into the vale.
Behind him, both Loman Lothian followed, dressed as always in the gold and white vestments of his faith, though he joined Sir Tommin in covering his conspicuous outfit with a cloak of his own.
Waiting for the past several weeks for his message to reach the Holy City and for the Church to send a representative with their reply had been agonizing for both men. Sir Tommin's confession weighed on Loman's heart like a stone.
