Neoklis found what he was searching for amongst the many tangled streets and alleys of the city, his search being relatively quick and only taking him a short distance from the harbour itself. Following one of the very few paved roads he had come across it had quickly lead him up a slight incline towards what he assumed was the governors square where whatever passed as their capital buildings would be situated. The guards in this part of the city were far more numerous and were each dressed in mostly fine armour and other adornments that made them stand out compared to the relative filth of the rest of the city. Reaching into his bag once more he rummaged passed the various items before withdrawing a slim and aged roll of parchment. Unfurling it he quickly read the faded finely scrawled handwriting, his eyes fondly lingering on the elaborate and well-penned marks. He had read the letter many times over the past few years whenever he had cared to remember things he often decided to forget, his eyes only briefly glancing across the majority of the content before they settled towards the very last few lines. “Should you ever choose to return to my side then I will be waiting for you my dearest. I implore you with all of my heart to conclude whatever business tears you away from me with the upmost urgency before seeking passage across the vast Atlantic gulf that shall separate us. My father has recently purchased an estate in the city of New Orleans and I am to leave with him to start a new life, but shall always been watching the seas for you. Yours forever, Cécile Morisette. He thought fondly back to his youth, to the months he had spent in France stealing the hearts of beautiful young maidens. Cécile had been his absolute favourite, a girl with as much passion and fire as he had possessed, being with her had always been an adventure. But like all of his past adventures it had come to an end sooner or later, his restlessness growing beyond control – he had left to make his way half way across the world and she had not come with him. Tearing his eyes away from the letters he gazed up and around at the large square he now stood in. The governor’s residence was a short way away, a big square and lavish building, constructed from huge cut stone blocks. He was more interested in the building that lay just to the right of it, a large French flag hoisted and flying outside of the building. It was the French embassy and they would be able to tell him what he wanted to know about the Morisette family, where their estate was located and where he could find Cécile or her father. Rolling the letter up once more and carefully returning it to his bag he straightened his jacket out before walking brusquely and directly into the embassy. --- Neoklis gazed out beyond the harbour and far out to sea, the breeze was refreshing but did little to assail the feelings of anger or depression that gripped him. The letter was crumpled in his left hand, his anger and what he had learnt driving him to screw it up and discard it into the surf, but at the last moment he had resisted the urge and now simply stood holding the letter and staring blankly at the horizon. He had learnt that the family had made it to New Orleans, however within mere weeks of arriving the household had been hit by a deadly illness that had killed not only Cécile and her father, but also all of her siblings and all of their servants. The estate apparently now lay abandoned deep in the bayou which had reclaimed the lands so quickly that there had been whispers of witchcraft and other foul dark magics. He stuffed the now crumpled letter into his bag after a few moments of straightening it out and rolling it up once more before he turned to make his way back into the town. Blocking his path was a young boy who simply stood several paces away from him with piercing clear blue eyes that seemed to be staring practically right through him. The boy smiled sweetly as Neoklis met his gaze, perhaps a little too sweetly for his liking. As he was about to ask what the boy wanted the boy spoke almost as if he already knew what he was going to ask. “Missus Marie may have de answers dat you seek” he said simply “but dey have probably been swallowed up by da bayou.” Neoklis frowned and was about to ask how the boy knew what it was that he was going to ask about, but the boy simply smiled once more before turning and running away, pausing only for a moment to shout back that she would be at some café called Bonswa. A few moments later and he had disappeared into the crowd, not a single trace of him to be seen – just an enigma to him now, a fleeting memory that lingered at the edge of his mind. Neoklis continued to frown as he gazed after the boy. How he had known about the questions that were rushing through his mind escaped him, but it was true that he had many questions now about this place and the cults that would no doubtedly be hidden just behind the surface pulling strings here and there. More importantly he wanted to know about the Morisette estate and what had really happened to cause the deaths of each and every man and women who had lived and worked there. His hand gripping protectively around the hilt of his blade Neoklis began to make his way back into the city to find this café, and more importantly this woman who could supposedly answer his questions. --- It took him a single coin to learn the location of Café Bonswa, one of the many beggars in the city more than happy enough to trade the location for a pittance. As he entered the smoky café the eyes of several of its occupants lingered unhappily on him for more than a few moments, mostly freemen he guessed from their dark skin and relatively ragged appearance. His own eyes were drawn to a lone woman who was sat smoking at one of the many tables, her figure slim and her skin dark and smooth – several thick wisps of smoke travelled upwards and hung in the air above her dancing silently in an almost perpetual way. Wondering how to even begin the conversation he had in mind Neoklis simply threw all caution into the wind as he walked over to the table before he made sure he had her attention and began. “Marie?” he asked with some level of certainty before introducing himself “I am Neoklis Cleggitt and I was told that you may be able to answer some questions I had about the bayou?”