William
**Felix Reed - Rhe Vermillion, Rikolto**

The short-haired girl looked at Jericho. "Oh, you didn't know? Your friend there is a fiend" 

"Allegedly," Replied Feilx. "As I told you before, these people can be quite superstitious."

Lancel turned in cricles, ponderning what to say next.

"What would you need us to do?"

"Just stand guard. Make sure that no real visonnaries interrupt my speech, and that no clever peasants strike me down before I can finish," Said Felix to Lancel.

"If this doesn't work, and I know it won't. Then we won't save you. And you," He pointed at Jericho. "Still owe us money. This favour will only account for tomorrow's payment. I expect the rest of it coming up in the following days."
George
Jericho Heinrich 
Rikolto, The Vermillion, Terresol

Jericho laughed, "I owe you one payment, the five thousand coin for him. There is nothing coming up in the following days unless you decide to keep our so called partnership long term."

Jericho had sighed, he hadn't expected anything like this to happen. He had really not wanted to interact with these people he'd rather see dead but he had to deal with it for the sake of his friends plan.
William
**Felix & the Sable Brotherhood -The Vermillion**

"Huh?" Lancel was supiefied by Jericho's answer. "You know what? Whatever: tomorrow, one payment, ten payments, as long as you give us the five thousand you promised, you and your head will be fine. If not, well, you know what they say about the price of blood."

"That's right." Redlin licked her lips.

Felix maintained a cool appearance, but Jericho could see he was covered in a thin layer of cold sweat. "And the money will be yours, but you still have interest to be ready tonight at the square."

"Yes, yes, we know," Said Lancel. "We'll get ready, now hush!"

Felix closed the door of the Vermillion. He offered Jericho a high-five.

"See?" He said. "That wasn't so bad, all we need now is the tip of the spear for tonight's mob."
George
Jericho Heinrich 
Rikolto, Terresol

Jericho reciprocated the high five and walked with Felix, where they went was up to him. "You have your body guards for the speech and all you need now is a mask. Now do you know what you will be saying during your speech? This is vital for your success."

Jericho looked concerned, knowing the importance of a speeches quality was key to persuading folk and firing them up. Jericho knew he had the heart but did he have the right words?
William
**Felix Reed - Rikolto**

"Worry not, I have this mask."

He showed Jercho his Azaryan war-mask: a silver face, beautiful and sinister, engraved with alien motifs, like the death masque of an ancient god. In a cruel twist of fate, it was quite reminescent of the one used by the visionnaries, were it not for the subtle and queer ornamentation.

"As for the speech, I'll have to improvise: I don't want to sound like a man with a plan, but a devout servant of Vik. A servant struck by devotion and grief. Have you already thought of who will we use as rabble rousers?"
George
Jericho Heinrich 
Rikolto, Terresol

"I need a mask and robe as well, though one that isn't similar to yours yet unique. I believe the Sable would also work well as rabble rousers.."
William
**Felix Reed - Rikolto**

Felix returned him a confused look:

"Will you too give a speech?" He asked. "I need you among the crowd, I need every last rabble rouser I can get. The speech means nothing. The crowd's reaction is everything."
George
Jericho Heinrich 
Rikolto, Terresol

"I can only stay for a little bit as I stated earlier. I have to speak with the higher ranking Pilgrimage members about organizing an alliance to ensure we are on good terms if things for them turn out to be favorable. Ask the Sable to roar up the crowd and I will too for a short while."
William
Felix Reed - Rikolto

Not good. Of all the possible things Heinrich could do, this was the worst one: alerting the pilgrimage about the speech. Why? Why did Jericho opposed so vehemetly the idea of anonymity? Did he not fear the consequences?
He knew then, that the man who had saved him, was a lost cause. They had talked about secrecy over and over, and yet he was proposing to offer their names to the Pilgrimage. Just like he had proposed that it'd be Felix himself the one to serve the Sable Brotherood poison instead of a third party.

The Pilgrimage would kill them for their transgession, but there was no point in arguing about it now. If Jericho wanted to die, so be it. Feilx would die too, but Kiervan would survive under another name. Right now, the important thing was making sure that Jericho fulfilled his part in the plan.

"Get your robe and your mask if you're going to visit the pilgrimage, but I implore you: don't do it. We will lose our leverage, not to mention our lives, if they ever discover what we are planning. Chaos, remember? Chaos, not alliances. In any case, before you go, gather the sellswords we talked about earlier and make sure the plaza is convinently filled with weapons. Spare no expense. Empthy the coffers of the H&R if it's what it takes. If this goes well, we will get back our investment tenfold."

That was it for Heinrich. Felix had no way to know whathe would do now. Worst case scenario? He would head straight for the Pilgrimage authorities, which meant Felix had to accelerate his plans. He ran all the way back to the Vermillion. Inside, the Sable Brotherhood wasn't too pleased to see him.

"What are you doing here? Didn't you left with that merchant just a moment ago?"

"Gather you thugs," He told them "And this time, I have a separate offer. I will double the pay: from five thousand to ten thousand; but I need you to get all the sellswords, rabble rousers, and spare weapons you can to the plaza as soon as possible. It's happening now."
George
Jericho Heinrich 
Rikolto, Terresol

Jericho had sighed, this truly was it. A grand departure. Jericho had no intention of telling the Pilgrimage of the speech, nor, had he planned on revealing Felix's identity to the Pilgrimage, and simply represented what was soon to be the Heinrich Merchants Club. 

Jericho had went off, purchasing a small arsenal of blades and setting them up conveniently around the House of Worship and area of the speech discretely. After that he went off to purchase a grey robe and a black mask, one lacking most features besides some carvings and eyes holes. 

This was it, the partnership was coming to a close and Jericho began his ride to the place in which the man who gave the speech rode. He came baring parchment, a vivid dream, and a sinking pit in his stomach as he realized that his partner had lost his mind... And was also a witch, and seemingly a liar.
William
**Felix Reed - Rikolto**

The time had come.

Caugth in his exitement, Felix did not notice Jericho's unease. He merely made sure that everything was in place. He had eyes for nothing else.
Weapons, the brigands of the Sable Brotherhood, the bunch of lowlives that they had lured from the Vermillion with the promise of coin.

The festival was in full swing, and no Visionnary in sight. It was time to make his grand entrance.

A strong gust of wind swept trough the plaza, briefly extinguishing the lights. When fires came back, a noisy flock of ravens emerged from one of the podiums, leaving a hooded figure was standing atop it. Blue robes. Silver mask. It had the aesthetic of the visionnaries, if not necessarily their colors.

_Remember son: Awe and Thunder. Powe lies where people believe it does._

The words of the Lord Magnate echoed inside Felix's head. Even now, the ghost of his father haunted him. He breathed in deeply, as much for dramtic affect as to try to calm himself. Then, he adressed the multitude:
_
_

**"Brothers, Sisters, Pilgrims, Citizens, and all others... Forgive me, for I bear terrible news! You were promised a time of joy, and now I must ask you to turn your hearts to anger...**

**The Magistrate, in her blind zealotry, has MURDERED our beloved head visonnary! In his devotion, he promised the people to made her listen to the will of this city! And now, she has repayed his kindness... With murder.**

**My bretheren! Even as our celebration turns to sorrow, we all bear witness to a final Truth: our way is not the way of the pantheon. You have never stood in the light of Saris, and you never will. We stand in midnight clad, covered in the sweat of our brow, and the blood of our martyrs!**

**Our Lord has gifted us all with a future! A dream to aspire for! But what have we done for our lord? Where were we, in his moment of pain, when the greatest of his servants paid the ultimate price?**

**It is for this reason, that we must ask you, LORD VIK: How must we atone? You have given us everything, but what do YOU desire?"**

Then, as if the living god himself had decided to answer Felix's plea, the ravens spoke. They did so in majestic unison, bound together in purpose by Kiervan's neural command. The neural backlash sent him to his knees but he didn't care: it was all part of the spectacle. As the false visonnary raised his arms to the sky, the birds replied.

**++ HER BLOOD ++**

Silence. To Felix's surprise, a rabble rouser wasn't the first to break it. It was Lancel. He defiantly raised his scimitar into the sky and screamed:

"Death to the Magistrate!"

The rousers followed suit, inciting the mob to violence, even as they stated running towards the house of worship. Led by example, the mob gained confidence. Soon, a horde of zealots flocked trough the streets of Rikolto. Torches and farmtoold in hand, righteous hatred in their hearts, they began to converge towards the temple of Saris.