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"It's all I have left, I guess," Jillian said, a small sentence that managed to elicit a small response from Gerald in the form of a slight start and a tightening of his lips. There was no denying that the words had an impact on him, though the feelings they provoked were somewhat mixed. On one hand he could probably relate to her some of the way; he, too, had been exiled from Zerul after all, having been discovered as a practitioner of a forbidden art and nearly killed by his own stepfather, losing the career and life he had built there. Not that there was much of a life left, as even before this he had lost his wife and unborn child... indeed, there was a time when magic was all he had left as well. He recalled the feeling of futility from then, of soul-crushing depression and desperation; magic had been his refuge, the one thing that remained precious to him, and thus he committed himself to it with all of his heart. It was only later his desperation rooted itself more deeply in him and turned to resolve, leading to him contacting the Black Tribunal and learning the art of necromancy that would eventually lead to his second loss of everything except magic.
But that was the thing; while he could relate to the feeling of having lost everything but magic, he also knew that he had moved past that, and that Jillian could as well. Magic on its own was nothing, it required a purpose to function optimally and finding a goal for which to use magic was an effective means of fueling its mastery much more effectively than sheer dedication to the arts. He pitied her, but he also felt disdain over her weakness for resigning to her fate and accepting her situation. Yes, he had been broken once as well, but he had rediscovered his purpose; she could too. She had to... or magic itself would inevitably consume her.
The rest of what she told Crone was mostly uninteresting formalities, though the warlock could not help but to feel amused at the witch's apparent regret over having not introduced herself to Crone or Renold... or Salas, for that matter, he realized. He did not recall introducing himself to the latter, either, but that could wait. What was ironic about this particular situation was the fact that Jillian seemed to think that she owed the ancient human an introduction despite the fact that Crone had not introduced herself either; Renold had done that for her, and then only by an alias. Of course Jillian was the one of the two in a disfavorable position, being the one to request something of the other, but there was little doubt that Crone was only offering the lessons she was because she wanted something from Jillian, too, namely the extra manpower to make success in capturing Hazzergash more likely. It was almost like being back at the noble court in Zerul, having to navigate that accursed maze of intricacies, formalities and intrigues, trying to find the exact right nuance to paint one's words as to not insult the other but not put the one in a favorable position over oneself either. Gerald had hated that; there was a similar dynamic among the instructors at the academy, but nowhere near as bad as at the noble court he had become involved in because of his stepfather.

He noticed the reaction of his fellow exile when he said that he expected Crone and Renold to help him, but he did not pay too much attention to it simply because Jillian did not know the whole story. His helping in the defense of the Anaxim Forest in the first place was mainly due to them promising to share this information afterward, and he had fulfilled his part of their deal even if the outcome of the battle had not been entirely in their favor. He expected to be given this information because it was what he had been promised, and to express anything less than absolute confidence in his right to it would place him beneath the two guardians, in a position where the terms for his receiving this information could be renegotiated. Had he reacted differently, and had Crone been insidious enough, they could have used a simple turn of phrase like that to hold the information hostage and force him to go after Hazzergash with them.
Kreshtaat take the Zerulic noble court and all the trickery that was necessary to survive in it... but at least he had learned a few things that could potentially be useful. It did not matter if he came off as rude as long as it achieved results.

Finally when the time came for Jillian to give her opinion on the subject the necromancer could not help but to crack a small sarcastic smile at her first words. Do the selfless thing and go after Hazzergash? The demonic Lord of Fire could not obtain his full strength without the Demon Prison that was in their possession, on top of which he was likely weakened even further now upon straining his host's tolerance for immortal energy too far. How dangerous was he really at the moment? He had the Crusader's Guild, certainly, but their forces had probably been nearly halved after the battle in Anaxim, and the ducal armies far outnumbered the cultist soldiers of the Guild. How many lives could they take without making themselves a target to the dukes? A hundred a week? Two hundred? The Withering claimed that many every several [I]hours[/I] and would continue to do so until it was stopped. He could see how stopping a demon lord might seem the more urgent of the quests to complete, especially since they only had a small window of opportunity before Hazzergash returned to Cave Bear's Keep and gained the protection of another two thousand men, but in the greater scheme of things ending the Withering was a matter of legendary importance. The selfish thing? Yes, he would save himself, but he would also save untold millions of others.
The rest of what the witch had to say did, surprisingly, make a lot more sense than he would have expected from her. Naturally he never intended to simply let Hazzergash be, even if he went in search of the cure, but her suggestion did seem to be about the best compromise they could hope to achieve. He had not counted on the guardians actively helping him in his search beyond simply telling him where to go, but chances were that putting things like this would actually force them to help and ultimately make the search all the faster.
"So," he said, offering Jillian a pleased smile and a nod, "how about it, Guardians of Anaxim? If you can help me..." He stopped, looked back at Jillian with a look of surprise as he actually comprehended one little detail of what she had said, then looked back to Crone. "...[I]us[/I] find a way to end the Withering, I am willing to help resealing Hazzergash before actually doing so."
Renold and Crone looked at each other, concerned expressions on their faces. "The expert I speak of is an acquaintance of mine that lives deep within Jevog Denûm," the Green revealed after a moment. "I can't teleport..."
"And I have never been there," Crone continued regretfully. "So I cannot teleport to such a destination either. At most you could ride on Elder Renold's back, which would shorten the journey to about a day or so, but faster than that it cannot be done. Presuming that Hazzergash does not obtain other means of traveling for himself and his surviving underlings than by foot, it should take them approximately two days to reach the Etlonian border and an additional two before they can seek shelter in the depths of Cave Bear's Keep. We are willing to help, but you need to be back before then, lest another legion of soldiers stand between us and our quarry. The longer it takes, the greater difficulty our task will entail, and the more likely it will be that Hazzergash has found a way to protect himself."
"I'm fine with that," Gerald shrugged, realizing that getting all the way to the inner Jevog Denûm would probably have taken [I]weeks[/I] on foot. "As soon as we have a cure, we will return to stop Hazzergash."
He turned to Jillian and Salas. "Presuming that everyone is willing, of course."