Isolde felt a surge of triumph froze. Gilbrecht didn’t quite  lose his cultured, superior smile but it seemed to freeze on his face like a ricktus. The other men in the room also tensed, only the scribe, Thomaz, seemed capable of action. The slender man took a step towards Cedric, although what he hoped to accomplish was a mystery. Gilbrecht held out a restraining arm.
 
“Reiner? I thought your name was Cedric?” the commander asked, his voice deceptively calm. Isolde nodded enthusiastically, thanking Ranald for the stupidity of knights.
 
“Reiner Cedric,” she interjected, “We spent some time together in Ubersreik.” She completed the vague account, providing all the information before anyone had a chance to ask further questions. She coughed into her fist as though covering an embarrassing moral situation.
 
“I don’t suppose my instructors would be too pleased to discover that little secret,” she concluded making the statement into an unverifiable lie. Gilbrecht seemed snap back into action.
 
“Ah, well perhaps you can renew the acquaintance,” he began.
 
“Perhaps over dinner,” Isolde interjected yet again, enjoying the look of frustration on the knight’s face. She felt the prick of something sharp against her back and realised that Thomaz had moved around behind her and was pressing a small knife against her back, It was concealed from Cedric’s view and its message was clear.
 
“Perhaps,” Gilbrecht declared, noncommittally.
 
“But first I must discuss the beastmen who were hunting your friend earlier today, please join me on the battlements Seargent.” It was not a request.

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