Thomas
Pilgrims in the streets
Rikolto, Akno, Terresol


These strangers were confusing.  One had only heard Tiny Vik's name in passing, the other one had heard his word, yet the one who heard the word still sought knowledge of it.  Clive was going to point out the mistake, but he wouldn't, because he didn't want to.  The crone in silver ignored the discrepancy and continued.


"Toiny Vik preaches abou' tha' will ya feel in da bo'um of yer heart, lad.  He encourages all o' us ta shed our inhibishuns and embark on the Pilgramage."


"The Pilgramage is life, y'know?"  Derrin piped in, "Saris lies about living in servitude to get a better next life.  Tiny Vik showed the Visionaries the truth that only those who embrace their ambition can get a cozy spot in the death space, y'know!"


"It's no' a religion, it's a way o' loife."  The crone again.


"Hear that Clive?"  Derrin cupped a hand and smacked it against his friends ear, "Do whatcha want, y'know!"


Clive hung his head in defeat, sighed, and stepped forward into the fray.  Derrin took  a sip from his wine jug, but spit it out at the sight of Clive finding the redhead, and stealing her for a dance.


"That's my boy, y'know!"  He cackled again, slapping his knee.  Clive continued to dance, because he wanted to.


"Ther' is only one sin in the Pilgramage."  The old lady picked up where she left off, "Unlike the Southern Pantheon of Saris, Toiny Vik dinnae think i' proper to impose slave loike will on the people.  Any further queshuns, lads?"


She tilted her head to the side, awaiting a response.  However a call rang across the square a second or two later.


"He's back!"  The crowd of fanatics cheered as the doors to the temple opened before the Head Visionary.

Visionary Demetri Troiarus
Rikolto, Akno, Terresol


Demetri took several deep breaths in front of the doors.  His mind raced with what to say.


*This is not the Lord's will.*  He thought.  *The Magistrate has just committed the most grievous of sins to my god.*


*Kill her.*


*Capture her.*


*Silence!  The people come first.*  He quieted his inner monologue, and prepped his outer one.


The roar that came when he opened the doors was deafening.  The crowd definitely grew while he was inside.  They cheered, and played nonsensical fanfares on various instruments, throwing garlands of Bog flowers to the steps.  Demetri raised a hand to quiet them.


"Brothers, Sisters, Pilgrims, Citizens, and those others," He began, "I do not come with the outstanding news I promised you today."


The crowd hushed.


"The Magistrate..."  He felt tears forming, "The Magistrate refuses the people's call."


A unified gasp, Demetri continued before outrage could spread.


"My friends!  Please do not take this to heart, while surely this is not the will of our Lord, I will keep my promise.  I will continue to meet with the Magistrate, every day until she listens to the will of the city.  I will be here every day until they let us back into these doors and accept our most humble request! Rain or shine, wind or snow, I will be here on my knees, begging the ones who claim dominion over the simple peace that our Lord requests!"


This produced a few nods, but Demetri needed this speech to end in a cheer, he needed his people to know this was not a lost cause, that they would win.


"Therefore, I declare this festival, the first of many!  Let us tear these walls down with the sound of our music!  Let the thick walls the Wisdoms put up be penetrated by our desires, so thoroughly that even Saris, in his shining temple, may hear them!"  His throat was getting dry, his voice cracking from the passion he held.

"They do not hear us!  They sit in their stone walls and plug their ears in Hope's of drowning out the noise!  Well my fellow Pilgrims, let us remind them that ***We are still here***!"  He raised both of his hands in the air at the last sentence, projecting his voice as loud as he could, carrying his passion to the masked men and women before him, and they accepted it.  They erupted in a roar, the idea of continuing their civil liberty against the church renewing the fires of celebration.


"Music!"  Cried out the Visionary of Relations, and the musicians picked up a raucous tune with a deep, guttural beat.

The Visionaries of the Pilgramage
Rikolto, Akno, Terresol


The Vikchild was waiting in the carriage.  Their dark iron mask that depicted a laughing, fanged face, made even the Head Visionary uneasy.


"The Magistrate must pay."  The voice was a hollow, cold whisper, Demetri would swear it came from his own head and not the person in front of him.


"I know.  I will inform Lord Vik of the situation and we will follow his judgement."  Demetri climbed into the carriage, taking the seat as far from the Vikchild as possible.  Visionary Versillion slipped inside immediately after, almost quick enough it might have been at the same time the guard closed the door.


"'This will be the first festival of many?'"  The ice in the Visionary of Finance's voice was not well hidden.


"Speak, Norman.  I will not play your word games."  Demetri grew tired of the wordplay both Visionary Versillion and Visionary Hanover employed on a daily basis.


"You would exhaust our funds for a fucking *Party*!?"  He was fuming, projectiles of spit flying from his mouth as he spoke.


"I do as our Lord commands."  Demetri responded bluntly.


"Lord Vik did not say to continue this festival for degenerates into eternity!"


"Jarah, please repeat Lord Tiny Vik's instructions for the festival, if you don't mind?"


The Vikchild nodded humbly.


"'Be sure my festival is loud, colorful, and crowded.'"  It was curt, and an exact quote.


"When did he say it would only be one day, Norman?"  Demetri was looking at the Vikchild, but he returned his gaze to Versillion, and tilted his head in curiosity.


"We cannot afford this."  The Visionary of Finance hissed through his teeth.


"Yes, we can.  You cannot hide the vault records from me."


"Every penny we spend on this godforsaken festival is one less penny we have for the war."


Jarah turned their head to Versillion, and, although they couldn't see it, raised an eyebrow.

"'*Godforsaken*?'"  Jarah's hiss made the carriage feel colder all of a sudden.  Norman's eyes grew wide at his realization and he groveled before the Inquisitor.


"Forgive me my discrepancies, I spoke out of a hate for the Southern Pantheon and forgot where my new allegiances lie."


Jarah loosened the grip on their club.


"This is... Acceotable."  The festival *Was* Godforsaken in the eyes of Saris, and this slip of the tongue was expected of new converts.  "Tread carefully."


"I thank Tiny Vik for his overflowing mercy against me."  He rose from his grovel and immediately turned on Demetri again.  "My point still stands.  You are inhibiting our Lord's desire to go to war."


"Then it's a good thing we're going to see him right now, so he may instruct us of our next goal."  Demetri finished, abruptly, before returning once again to the Inquisitor.  "Where is our Lord?"


"He awaits you at the Keep, he's most anxious for your return."


"Wonderful."  Demetri said, before instructing the driver where to go.

——



Demetri ascended the steps alone, his cane clacking against the steps, the sound bringing back pleasant memories.



"Visionary."  The voice of the Lord Regent broke his meditations.



"Lord Regent." Demetri bowed his head to the man.  The Lord Regent was flanked by two members of the house guard, each one wearing a new set of armor that reflected the exchange of power.



"Your festival goes well?"  Lord Derringer didn't wear a mask, despite being of the Pilgramage, fixing his into his helmet like many other soldiers.



"*Our* Festival continues."  Demetri said "Our," And not "My," To remind the former Captain of his place.  "That is why I must speak to Lord Vik, he is here, yes?"



"He is."  Lord Derringer nodded.  "He and the Lady Elania are having a tea party in the great hall with some of her other friends."



Demetri bowed deeply.



"I request an audience."



"Granted."



"As you desire."



"And may I know it."



Demetri gave a parting smile before entering the Keep.



The Great Hall hadn't changed much since the exchange of power, except for the replacement of Southern Pantheon heraldry with that of the new Pilgramage.  Flags depicting the golden mask of their Lord over a red Background hung in the place of art related to Saris and his "Many faces."



The scene behind the great doors was one not typically found in a Lord's hall.  Four small people sat around a short table, one holding an elaborate teapot that was poised over a matching cup, the liquid flowing forth steaming as if freshly brewed.  Multiple cakes and biscuits sat atop decorative plates in the center of the table.



"Would you like more tea, Mallory?"  That was the voice of Lady Hecate, the girl turning to look her friend in the eyes.



"I would love some more.  Does anyone want the last raisin cookie?"  Her hand reached out, poised over the biscuit in question.

"Oh take it, my dear, you've been the only one eating them!"  Tiny Vik giggled, his oversized hand covering what would be his mouth.  Mallory blushed, but snatched the cookie anyways.


"Forgive my intrusion."  Demetri bowed deeply before the three children and his god.


"It's not an intrusion, Sir Demetri."  Lady Elania said, "Please join us!"


"I would be delighted."  Demetri said, standing from his bow, and sitting cross-legged in a spot made for him at the small table.  He held out his empty cup to be filled by the steaming liquid in the pot, and assembled an assortment of pastries on the small plate gifted to him.


"How was the party?"  The boy's name was "Fara," As far as Demetri knew, and he was a curious lad.


"It isn't over yet."  Demetri began, taking a sip from his tea.  It had a very fruity taste, something like cherries and... Was it banana?  Demetri couldn't tell, only having bananas once before.  "The lady I went to talk to didn't like what I had to say, she even sent me out of her temple, so I told everyone to keep the festivities up so that we may remind her that everyone in the city wants the same thing."


Tiny Vik picked up the teapot, pouring himself a cup of tea, and nodding slowly with understanding.


"Why did the lady say no?"  Mallory spoke up, munching into her raisin biscuit.


"She thinks I am nothing but a man."  Tiny Vik muttered,  "They think denying my existence will help prove I'm not real."


"But you're right here?"  Lady Elania said that.


"That's not enough for some adults."  Demetri answered.  "Some people would rather believe in something that only speaks in riddles and hints through nature."


"So why do you need the Magistrate's permission?  Vik is right here, why don't you just walk in and declare your godhood?"  That was Fara again.


"When did Saris walk into a temple and declare himself God?"  Vik questioned, to which the boy gripped his chin in contemplation.

"The proof of a god is not his physical existence, despite the fact that I have one.  It is the people's belief in the idea that I represent that will convince people of my existence."


"I guess that makes sense."  Fara was still quizzical.  "But why don't you just do something to make everyone believe in you?"


"A good question."  Demetri answered, "You will make a fine Lord yet."


Fara blushed at the compliment before Vik continued.


"Seeing is believing."  The small god grabbed a chocolate chip biscuit and bit down on it.  "But that only applies to certain things.  If you see someone perform magic, you may believe that he actually predicted the card you pulled.  However when it comes to miracles, things are slightly different.  If everyone sees you travel to another dimension, or exist in two places at once, they ground it in reality.  They think you're some fantastical beast or cosmic phenomenon, but it's that layer of mystery that builds the legend around it.  'I saw,' only goes so far, 'I heard,' builds a legend." Tiny Vik sipped from his tea after he finished, letting the children mull his speech over.


"So to get what you want you have to remain mysterious?"  Mallory questioned after a bit, to which Vik tapped the nose of his mask.


"Very smart.  Some people need that layer of mystery to believe it's reality.  Otherwise I would walk into the temple and banish the Magistrate then and there.  If I did that I'd just be a crazed wizard or faery."


The three children nodded in understanding.


"Whmf viln buppen nhm?"  Asked Elania, her mouth full of chocolate cake.


"Finish chewing, child."  Demetri giggled, and Elania swallowed.


"What will happen now?"  She rephrased after finishing the cake.


"The people will continue to celebrate.  Letting the Magistrate and her Wisdoms know that the people want Lord Vik to be allowed in the city."  Demetri answered, looking into Tiny Vik's mask's eye sockets.  Vik sipped deeply, emitting a small "Hmm," In response.

"Will the Magistrate change her mind?  I can ask her in our next lesson?"  Elania asked.


"Don't worry, child."  Vik responded, "The Magistrate will have a change of mind soon enough.  A cheers, to our fabulous host, Lady Elania Hecate the Gentle and Kind!"


All five of them raised their tea cups with a loud *Clink*.
William
**Felix Reed - Rikolto**

Festival. Cheers in the air, fire and dancers, mountebanks selling their miracle drugs in the street. And all of this because of Vik. Felix was amazed, despite his earlier dissapointment at not being able to meet with church authorities.

"Let's go back to the Trade Hall," He told Jericho. "I have an idea."

The Pilgrimage of Vik was a decentralized faith. It had it's enforcers, sure, but they were either kept secret or split in branches. Who knows? Maybe both. This lack of hierarchization had would make Felix's attempts to infiltrate it slow and inneficient, but this apparent strength could also be it's biggest weakness.

"I need a robe," He whispered. "Like the one the visionnaries have, but not the same one they use. And I need it in a color that contrasts well with silver. I have seen purple, green, and black, let's go with blue."

The lead visonnary had promised to sway the Magistrate to the Tiny god's cause, but if he had not been successful before, there was little chance he would succeed now. What was needed was another execution, not at the hands of the curch but at the hands of the people. The pilgrimage believed Truth was the will of it's followers, so altering the will of the followers would decide the pilgrimage's Truth. If the visionnaries would not incite the mob to violence, but someone else could: someone able to command miracles and speak in the name of the church, but not it's interests.

A witch in disguise. A false prophet.

It would be a dangerous play, unlike before, the church would not be able to ignore his existance. They may even send his hounds after him. He couldn't do this alone.
Felix Reed, no... Kiervan Czerich turned towards Jericho and said:

"Before we do anything... There is something I need to tell you."
George
Jericho Heinrich 
Rikolto, Akno, Terresol 

The speech he had just fell witness to has opened his eyes to the situation, these people were looking for a ledge to stand on, a cliff below them if they falter in their mission. 

This is the moment to become one of them and join their ranks and present them an offer that'd solidify a standing alliance. Firstly, Jericho had to hear his partner out, "Yes Felix? Oh! Before you tell me anything, I also have an idea, if our ideas correspond or are similar we should certainly work with each other on them... But go ahead with what you wanted to say."

Jericho could hardly wait for them to begin working, he had to get to the man who had done the speech, or even better, Tiny Vik. Jericho knew how bad financial problems could be... And he had a good idea
William
**Kiervan Czerich - Rikolto**

Felix stared at Heinrich and asked a single question: "Jericho, what do you know about witches?"
George
Jericho Heinrich 
Rikolto, Akno, Terresol 

"I know them from children's tales and know them to be evil? I also know they are hunted around all of Marin. Why?"

Jericho wondered where this was going. A possible witch hunt? Somehow making the people believe the Magistrate were witches?
William
Felix Reed - Rikolto

"So you know nothing," Said the apothecary. "Not what they can do, nor if they even exist."

Perhaps it had been a mistake to discuss this with Heinrich. The time was not right. He would tell him just the bare minumum required for him to carry out his part.

"The people of Vikolto are superstitious. The tiny god has offered them a way to remove their chains, but the fetters of the pantheon remain untouched inside their minds. And I know a way to make miracles happen.
I hail from a land where things that are common knowledge may seem like witchcraft in here. And if there is one thing that separates miracles from sorcery, it's legitimacy. If we pull out magic tricks dressed as Melsi we will end up burned at the stake, but if disguise ourselves as visionnaries, then we will be performing miracles. Not blasphemy.
And if we can create miracles at will, we can control the people, we can control the land."
George
Jericho Heinrich 
Rikolto, Akno, Terresol 

Jericho pondered for a moment, rather thrown off by his claim. How would he preform miracles? Surely it must be an idiom for 'miracle work' or a snake-oil con... Surely. He went along with it but... Had a thought. He got close to Felix and whispered,

"Miracle work! I see! Okay, so you'd be *Preforming miracles* For these folk and I could be your spokesperson and go to the man who spoke that speech earlier... I'd make you out to be a prophet here in... Vikoloto is it? That's what these people call this city now? Sure... Let's go with that... And surely talk to the man after making a good impression on the people with an offer they couldn't turn down..."

Jericho rubbed his hands together, this plan sounded good. His eyes lit up as her nearly had forgotten, the Sable. "Oh... And we are going to have to get these folk to drive the Sable Brotherhood out of here... Their kind shouldn't be welcome here..." He smiles wickedly at the thought of them fleeing and his coin staying secure.
William
**Felix Reed - Rikolto**

The apothecary burst out laughing. "I could see that happening, but no... We're gonna hire the Sable."
George
Jericho Heinrich 
Rikolto, Akno, Terresol 

"Hire them? Are you sure they could be trusted? They seem... Well rather untrustworthy." Jericho does seem to be concerned with the decision.
William
**Felix Reed - Rikolto**

"We don't need their trust. We merely need to strike a deal. Think about it: the first time we met, those bandits were taking me to the Rogine. Why would they do that? Why would a bunch of wanted lordsblood reavers go to the biggest famaezar in all of Marin?"

Even as he waited for Jericho's answer, Felix began to search the boxes of their emporium, looking for the blue robe.
George
Jericho Heinrich 
Rikolto, H&R Merchants Club, Terresol

Jericho would sigh, business is business and he knew it. The Sable wanted business and they were planning on meeting the next day anyway... Why not introduce them to the deal. 

"We hire them... But I have an idea of how we can use them. Along with my help we'll be the richest and some of the most powerful people in Terresol... If the Pilgrimage will have us of course... I'll let you in on something Felix..."

Jericho sat down and pulled out a paper from his satchel. "The only man to lay eyes on this paper was me... But you seem to be in the same mind set as me... Take a gander would you?"
William
**Felix Reed - Rikolto, H&R Merchants Club**

He found a tunic in one of the boxes. It was pretty similar to the one he had used to leave Azarya, albeit with a clear Terresolian craftmanship. It had to be destiny.

"It must happen tonight, before we lose our momentum. The people are in a state of repressed anger. Anger towards Cassandra Melise, the magistrate. If we convince the mob to storm the House of Worship, the pilgrimage will be forced to take action. All sorts of things that the panthon has outlawed will be made legal again by Vik: surgery, forbidden alchemy and lore, smuggling... Magicks. This is why we must stage a call to war."
Betty
Magistrate Cassandra Melise
The Southern Pantheon House of Worship

Cassandra watched the Visionary leave with a cold gaze. She followed to the door and nodded towards the man as he walked down the hall, indicating the Wisdoms outside her door were to follow and ensure he left the premise. 

"Your charade is troubling." She muttered quietly, shaking her head as she returned to her office. Instead of moving to her desk, however, the Magistrate went to the window, opening it just a crack so she could hear the excuses he gave to the people outside. Cassandra understood the appeal of the religion of Tiny Vik. It was an excuse for lawlessness. Their fundamental, core tenent of doing whatever pleases them was nothing but an excuse for poor behavior. It would ruin everything and turn Akno into a second Feyshore. 

As she waited for the speech to end, Cassandra penned a note to the Abigreth. 

```Leaders of the Abigreth,

I regret to inform you that the religion of Tiny Vik, as a previously wrote to you about, has gathered more momentum in Rikolto. I, and those under me, have done what we can to counsel the people and return them to the Southern Pantheon, but a parade now fills the streets in celebration of the madman claiming to be a god. 

I am worried of what is to come. I write to you as a warning that if no reinforcements are sent to Rikolto it may fall into treacherous hands. It is our duty to protect the people. I will continue to do so and if I should die performing my duty then Wisdom Ezkria should take my place as Magistrate. 

I urge you not to delay. We are at war and must fight for the peoples souls. 

Magistrate Cassandra Melise
Rikolto, Akno```

The roaring cheer from the streets distracted her as she sealed the note with wax, glancing down to the scene below. They were so lost and they would spend eternity in their Mournings. Cassnadra felt no anger towards the people. Her feelings for the visionaries and Tiny Vik, however, were full of hatred and seething rage. How *Dare* They condemn these people simply so they can act like gods themselves. It was unfathomable and wretched.
George
Jericho Heinrich 
Rikolto, H&R Merchants Club, Terresol

"Felix! Let's not rush into this... The iron is hot but let's be a bit more precise with the strike of our hammer... Would you listen to me! Trust me, for I've got valid information and contributions to make... We can masquerade all we want, but when talking to those gentlemen... They won't be so easily persuaded without genuine contribution... This is where this comes in." He taps the paper three times before returning it to the satchel.

"They want the Magistrate gone without having it traced back to the Pilgrimage, they don't want to go to immediate war... The Magistrate must get assassinated and I am going to do it... The Sable could join us... Make it a League... As planned. This is it... The break. This is everything I have been looking for all balled up into one region of Marin.

Jericho looked at Felix with passion in his eyes, the tone of his voice had never been more up beat and his attitude was fueled by success. This had fallen into place beautifully and it was ripe for picking like a forbidden fruit. 

"This is the time to strategize... We don't storm down the hall when the entire south will then immediately begin a reign hellfire upon us... Let's simmer for a moment or two... Now I agree with your idea to get the people on our side. I want you out there preforming *Miracles* For people, I don't care how you do it. I'll join you out there and make you out to be a prophet or visionary... Whatever you want me to make you out to be I will fire up that crowd... You sway the people out there and I'll approach the true visionaries and begin striking up a deal..."

Jericho's voice had lowered, this plan had to be kept between the two or else all hell would break loose. "When the crowd is fired and the spirits are high, I'll depart from you and you will continue to appease the crowd and preach to them. I'll talk to the visionaries of the Pilgrimage and work up a deal... This is our break my friend..."
William
**Felix Reed - Rikolto**

"I understand. I really do. But you must remember that while we support Vik, we are not part of his pilgrimage. We don't want what they want. We may even want something they don't: a clash, a fight, a war. We cannot, we must not, alert the pilgrimage. They will try to control the situation, and what we want is for things to escalate out of control.
We will be safe. The Sable Brotherhood will unkowingly be our bodyguards hidden in the crowd. And our identity shall be protected by the pilgrimage's very own artifice: the masks."

They were halfway up to the Vermillion already, and Felix didn't show any signs of fatigue. If anything, he seemed to have been possesed by that ever dangerous flame of inspiration.
George
Jericho Heinrich 
Rikolto, The Vermillion, Terresol

"Regardless... While you entice a war, I'll try and show Vik our competence. The assassination is on. I'm going to kill the Magistrate... If the Pilgrimage prevails, we will at the very least be on their side when the tides of war crash together..."

Jericho accompanied Felix and wasn't fatigued by any means, just due to the fact that he was rather fit.
William
**Felix Reed - Rikolto**

"Fine, just don't make her execution discreet. Remember, she must die at the hands of the people and by the collective will of the pilgrimage, not any random individual. This must look like as if her death is the tiny god's will. Hire as many sellswords as you can, they will be the rousers, and the speartip. After the speech, the people will need the reassurance that they are not charging alone: having a group ready to storm the house of worship, even against the orders of any visionnary that might show up later , is paramount."

Felix paused in front of the inn's. He took a deep breath, and after pushing the doors wide open, he stepped into the Vermillion.
George
Jericho Heinrich 
Rikolto, The Vermillion, Terresol

Jericho seemed calm, he wasn't afraid of these people. He has faced death itself defending the lands of Xhi from the *Bloody pirates* Of the south and hated them... This assassination is a long time vendetta and a beginning of many...

"Alright... Let's see if these people want money... So many plan changes I'm sure they are sick of us by now..."
William
**Felix Reed - The Vermillion**

The reavers were lazing around in the couches of the inn when the merchants made their entrance. Marius Falke, the Brotherhood's champion, was drinking booze. Noele Redlin, the redhead was squatting atop a wooden beam, like a cat redy to punce on her prey. She was playing with knives. Lancel and Syanna were on the couch kissing.

"YOU!"

Lancel stood up, and made Syanna fall from his lap.

"Yes, it is I," Said Felix. "The Witch of Harronheart, in the flesh." He put his hands behind his head, mimicking antlers.

"Are you fucking mocking us?" Shouted Redlin. She aimed one of her daggers.

"No, I am here simply to repay my debt."

"What? Said Lancel. "Do you have the money?"

"Yes, and no, and yes. We do have the money, but I do have a proposition."

Lancel became livid upon hearing this. "THERE IS NO PROPOSITION, YOU EITHER BRING ME MY MONEY, OR YOU OFFER ME MY FATHER'S HEAD! I WILL NOT ACCEPT ANYTHING LESS FROM YOU, RAT!"
_
_

Marius unsheated his blade faster than the time it took Felix to step back, Syanna took out one of her daggers and aimed at the apothecary. Noelle pointer her knives towards Jericho. Felix had a grin on his face, a scary one.

"Oh, but that is exactly what I offer," He said. "Lord Horce's head. You wanted the torturers of the Rogine to make me confess to being a witch so your father could get expelled from Harronheart? I'll do it. I'll even say my stay in Harronkeep was his idea. But I won't do it in Sol, instead, here in Vikolto."

"But, you'll die," Replied Lancel.

"No, I won't. Not with the pilgrimage. Today before sunrise, I plan to give a speech. Or more accurately, the Witch of Harronheart will. It will speak of the tiny god's power, and demand the magistrate's blood. Then, to prove truth of it's words, the creature will perform a miracle."

Marius frowned. "We don't even know if you're a real witch, that's just something my sister invented."

"He is," Said Syanna.

"Well," Argued Felix. "We don't know yet, but if it were to be true, then the tale of the Witch of Harronheart would spread all across Akno. A declaration far more powerful than anything the Rogine could provide you. A declaration born in blasphemy."
George
Jericho Heinrich 
Rikolto, The Vermillion, Terresol

Jericho held up his hands lazily, he seemed to not want to be here talking with what he would refer to as barbarous apes, but he was here... And heard what sounded like pure fiction.

"No need for the weapons... Wasn't my idea to come here. Felix insisted on coming back and talking with you about what was supposed to happen tomorrow...

Jericho eyed everyone in the room, including Felix. "Witch?...I thought you were speaking idioms! What on earth do you mean, witch?"

Felix was as confused as he'd probably ever be, though the future is an enigma.