“Has anyone ever seen a stranger in the area? Someone who might be seen walking the surrounding country at odd hours? Do we even know if there is a sorcerer at all?” He asked. Again, he was met with silence, and Handy felt his anger rising. In all of the shit he had gone through, this was the first time he felt his time had been genuinely wasted, which only made it worse to recall that he had insisted on coming here himself. “If there is no evidence to speak of, then why dost thou insist on thine accusations?” Handy asked, clearly losing his patience. The count looked down at his now empty goblet but didn’t respond. It was actually pathetic to look at. The old griffon, lost in his cups, lashing out at the nearest target. If Handy understood things right, Karl was relatively new blood to the nobility game, much like he himself was. However, Handy had the advantage of still being small fry; Karl did not. He fumed. Joachim was right. This was a waste of time, and it was time to wrap up. “Then, unless Duke Karl has any objections, I believe this matter to be concluded.”