Marcus took the mead given to him and drank it down in one, continuous drink. It was the first liquid he had in a long while and offered substantial relief to his sore, dry throat. He would have preferred something cooler, or perhaps at least not warm, but he still wasn’t complaining. He felt as if he could breathe once more. Once he finally sated his thirst on the tankard of mead, he set the empty container on the table and strode over to one of the large vertical windows. He had chosen not to sit. Having spent an afternoon already sitting, his legs still felt stiff and uncomfortable from the ride.

As he stood and looked out into the city, he listened to the posturing of the two nobles. It was interesting that the proxy for the leader of this place would know so little of their own King. Even Marcus had been able to suss the man out just from his attire and demeanor. Still, the Lady looked competent enough. She seemed… Fiery.  As he mused and listened, he pulled from his robe a long pipe and small crushed velvet pouch of fine tobacco. A bad habit learned from his former master. As he filled the tiny meerschaum cone, he observed a scene happening out in the distance. A crowd seemed to be forming around a group travelling down the streets. From this distance, it was impossible to tell what was happening or even hear the commotion the people were making, but the people obviously seemed agitated.

He watched the scene a while longer until he finished packing his pipe. He placed a thumb over its opening and began nursing it. It slowly began smoking for him. As the King introduced him to the Lady, he raised his pipe holding hand up in greeting, smoke slowly streaming from his nose, before returning the pipe’s tip to his mouth. He stayed at the window, leaned against its edge and free hand propped on its ledge for support. When he exhaled, the breeze from the window quickly carried his smoke outside and vanishing from existence. It was as if he had specifically chosen that spot to be courteous.

When the topic of who or what those creatures were and what that power was that they were wielding came up, Marcus would answer. Once the others had finished speaking, he cleared his throat. “While I have never, in any of my travels or studies, come across anything like those creatures, I have heard of and seen weapons similar to the ones they wield. Vile blood magic. That scepter was made to carry out magic most inhuman and despicable. If one of your Inquisitors saw that, here in your lands, he’d probably lose his mind. Hell, if one of our Magi saw that, he’s lose his mind. If I hadn’t lost it already, I’d be losing my mind. I don’t know if any of you have any sense at all magically, but that thing is vibrating with power. The number of souls that took to create something so powerful are hardly imaginable.”

He took another sip from his pipe, watching the scepter, as if it might leap up and attack them all right now. “It may be purpose built to channel one single, hellish spell or any variety of weaker, equally hellish spells. It may be a brother to the one used by that other subterranean demon which swallowed Vicenna in one single gulp. If so, it is a most powerful and dangerous artifact.” His gaze was focused and hateful on the scepter as it lay there, throbbing at him as if taunting. “I don’t know what agenda those creatures had or their reasons for laying complete waste to my civilization. Perhaps they wanted to consume Vicenna’s lives to craft an even more powerful weapon; we did have a sizeable population dense with the magic adept, making it great fodder for such an exploit. Or perhaps they were just using an inordinate show of power to send the other great nations into fear and panic. If it was the former, then the power of this staff and the one used to destroy Vicenna will appear paltry compared to whatever weapon they may conceive of from the power they gathered destroying Vicenna. It would be power old world mages would have considered worthy of challenging a god…”

Those were powerful, challenging words, even in Vicenna. Especially so in Areta. But after seeing that display, Marcus believed anything might be possible from those demons.

“Had any of those from that elven band lived, perhaps they might know something. Their leader seemed acutely aware of the danger. Though I deplore his choice to drive the people from their homes instead of contact the Council of Magi, he may have saved a few Vicenni people from the horrors of what those beasts did. If they do yet live, those elves may be our best hope of understanding what exactly has transpired and what the best next course of action may be…”

 He turned back to face the dissipating crowd off in the distance. Whatever commotion was happening seems to have passed for now.