Cyrdic was far and away, his world darkening from lack of blood. It seemed that dagger was cruelly serrated, and filled with what could only be guessed as either poison, or chaos taint. Still, he was breathing, and drifting in and out of consciousness. What brought him back this time were soft hands and a nice place to lay his head on. 

He opened his eyes, and though he didn't notice it, he had broken out in a sweat. "Camilla," he breathed. He seemed to fluctuate from being extremely weak, to near normal strength, as if some war within him was fighting. He gripped her hand in his, and grinned. "Let's not trust chamberlain's again..." he coughed. "That wasn't our best move."

"Are you going to get better, herr Reiner?" Jiselle asked. Cyrdic turned his head to her, and nodded. "I think so-" 

"Move away!" Eloise said, scurrying up and kneeling down before Cyrdic, on the otherside of Camilla. Her eyes glowed with an ominous power, and she placed her hands on Cyrdic's chest. Moments passed as she examined him. "That dagger was imbued with chaos energies, but it seems to have been nullified by his sword, and probably bull-headed stubborness." Her eyes met Camilla's, before she continued. "But he's lost a lot of blood. I can fix that..." 

As she began to intone a spell, Camilla would hear booted footsteps approaching. Even as the last cries of mercy from the heretics rang out, Boris Todbringer halted over Cyrdic and Camilla. 

"Are you dying?" he asked Cyrdic, and the warrior shook his head. "I think not."

"Good." he said simply, and Jiselle began to sputter and sing about what Cyrdic and Camilla had just done to destroy the morale and magic of the enemy. Boris snorted. "I've fought ratmen once in my life. Vile creatures, and easily routed once you kill their leader. You two have done a great service, though I should not be surprised." 

Cyrdic swallowed, feeling his throat very dry at the moment. "How long has Osfurth been-" He was cut off by Boris. "Long enough," the Graf said, and his hard set jaw spoke volumes. Both of the men had begun wondering if the Count of Middenland's misfortune had been caused by an internal cultist such as he. 

"Rest up, herr Reiner, and you as well Vivvienne Du Courrone. You're to have a guest room in the palace, and tomorrow we will speak further. You have my thanks." 

Eloise drew out of her trance, and wiped sweat off her own brow. "All he needs is a good night sleep. He might be a tad stiff, but he'll be fine."
[@Penny]