On the way to give his report, Knight Kraft ran into Martin, who was also waiting. They had both only had time to change clothes, and arrived with their hair blown into a mess by days of wind and dust, their boots spattered with mud.
At least they weren't stepping onto the carpets of the Inner Castle.
They followed an attendant into a tower on the sealed-off Mountain Path. A series of coughs echoed down from above, carried by the cold wind, and made them worry about the condition of whoever was making them. On the tower's highest floor, the Duke, clad in chain mail, leaned against the parapet and looked down at the building below, where people came and went from time to time.
After announcing the visitors' arrival, the attendant quickly withdrew, though he did not go far. He stood a few steps away, keeping a close eye on the Duke.
"I'm glad to see you're both still here." He turned around. His face was as hard and weathered as a cliff, giving nothing away. "But we've lost some people for good."
"Wilbert, the steward, among them. The last time I saw him, I thought I'd see him again before dinner. But the Heavenly Father is always cruel in the fate He bestows upon mortals. Fortunately, I've grown used to it."
Kraft didn't need to look to know Martin's expression must have been grim.
"So, tell me: did you find the people responsible for all this?"
Anger burned in the Duke's slightly clouded eyes, but he kept his emotions well in check. That only made him more intimidating to those facing him.
"We found the Heretics' lair and burned their evil creations and idols to ashes." Martin presented a fragment of the mural they had removed from behind