<span style="color: #FF0000">"So,"</span>Tyrrus said, tiredly rubbing at his eyebrows as if to stave off a headache,<span style="color: #FF0000">"she's gone."</span><br/><br/><span style="color: #008000">"Yes sir."</span>The guardsman looked down respectfully, or perhaps just to shield his eyes from the rain. It was going from a decent shower to a storm and showed no sign yet of letting up.<span style="color: #008000">"She ignored my order and for a moment I thought she planned to challenge me. Then she simply turned away."</span>He frowned.<span style="color: #008000">"I would have drawn my blade and demanded her stay but she was in the air before I could believe my eyes."</span><br/><br/>Tyrrus nodded, memories of a childhood spent in pursuit of such a being returning with force.<span style="color: #FF0000">"That tends to be their way, yes. Either that, or burning you to ashes for speaking to them, as I understand it. Something to do with what they fell for."</span>He tapped the guardsman and turned back to his horse.<span style="color: #FF0000">"I'll get you to your mount, then we're both off the way she went. You will recognize her if we see her, yes?"</span><br/><br/>The guardsman nodded.<span style="color: #008000">"Of course sir. Especially with the wings and such, it will be hard to miss her."</span><br/><br/><span style="color: #FF0000">"Don't count on that. Legend says her wings may be tucked away. Of course we don't know how much is true and how much is myth... I guess we'll be learning that together."</span>Tyrrus was in the saddle once again, the was horse unhappy with two passengers but it would only be for a short distance.<br/><br/><span style="color: #008000">"'We', sir?"</span>The guard sounded surprised.<br/><br/>Tyrrus nodded without turning back to face him.<span style="color: #FF0000">"What's your name? I'm not going to call you 'guardsman' for the rest of our association, and I'd prefer avoiding the attention a title like that brings."</span><br/><br/>The young guard nodded too, perhaps unconsciously mimicking the man before him.<span style="color: #008000">"I'm called Krenn. Guardsman at the pass."</span><br/><br/><span style="color: #FF0000">"There is much to tell you and little time for it, Krenn."</span>Tyrrus tried to keep his tone formal even as he all but immediately decided he didn't like the naive new ally.<span style="color: #FF0000">"Simplest rule first: Listen to me, nobody else. If you have no orders, use common sense. If my order countermands that, you follow it anyway. I operate with the authority of the crown-prince himself. Now... We are lucky she headed towards Theysia."</span><br/><br/>* * *<br/><br/>As the black-winged angel walked through the collection of towns and villages that jumbled awkwardly together as the edge of Theysia, those who saw her reacted to what it was they saw - an injured, sturdy-looking knight. Walking, not flying, by no means so strange a sight. Perhaps a warrior ordained by the church, but in any case not one to be entangled with and certainly not one to be harassed. The church had made itself an enemy in the Cult of Mouths, and most common citizens were wary of being seen as aiding one side or the other. Of course, most of them preferred the boredom and rigidity of the church to the fear and dark rituals of the cult, but... Were such mild preferences really worth dying for?<br/><br/>The church that finally rose up before Mirtra was dark, tall and strong, with beautiful stained glass windows and heavy oak doors. It might have been familiar in a way, home in its intention (and perhaps in a strange feeling of discomfort at the sight of it). At this hour it was all but abandoned, save for a young woman in the garb of the church who watched over the place at night, a job seldom envied by the others of her order. The doors were closed, but unlocked, and she stood in the silence of the empty chapel without any idea of what was outside them, literally or figuratively.<br/><br/>* * *<br/><br/>Tyrrus had followed the direction the angel had blazed quite easily until he realized that she must have moved to travel on foot. Now he walked quietly towards the nearest landmark to the WEST, while Krenn made his way EASTWARD. Krenn was under orders to return quietly to Tyrrus should he spot the angel, and not to engage her directly or even be seen by her. As for Tyrrus, he checked his equipment with a pang of anticipation. This had been his life's work, and for that he'd never been in a position to actually put his skills to their truest purpose before today. Hatchet, knife, rope, net, flintlock pistol for emergencies... These things were his tools, and only some of them. The prince had once said of him<span style="color: #FFFF00">'I'm impressed not by Tyrrus' arsenal, but his ability to carry the lot of it swiftly and silently.'</span><br/><br/>* * *<br/><br/>Drawing towards the church, the young Krenn thought he caught a glimpse of the angel just outside its doors. He couldn't be sure without the wings, she was some distance away... He didn't want to waste Tyrrus' time with a mistake, he decided to draw a little closer to be sure. He wasn't moving in a threatening way, but the long shadows of the bright night had him uncomfortable... Bad things seemed to happen around the church these days, one never knew what might lie in the shadows... Still, he had to be sure before finding Tyrrus. If what the man had told him was true, then it was vital they recover the angel before anyone else did - for her sake.<br/><br/>What he did not know was that Tyrrus was lying.