There was a slight breeze wafting along the night air. Something that had Cyrdic on edge, though he wasn't aware of what. Dimly, he realized it wasn't even his sixth sense as a soldier, the type of feeling that often saved a man's life on campaign. No, it was something else entirely. Something pulsating within the blade of his sword, and he gripped his weapons for surety as he thought to himself. 

On instinct, he sniffed the air like a dog, his nostrils flaring. He had no idea why, but there was something inherently wrong with how the air felt. His sword stirred, and he picked himself up, moving like a pacing wolf on the hunt. He passed a few curious guardsmen, and made his way down the back part of the stairs. 

Was there an enemy in the castle? He doubted it, but he'd be the fool he often thought he was if he ruled out chaos from being so unpredictable. The darkened corridors of the keep only heightened his wariness, and before long he found himself in a part of the castle that led to Camilla's room. 

Before he could put two and two together, a curved figure sauntered toward him from out of the corner, and he saw it was Camilla, more bare than she should have been in a castle of men that fawned on her. And to his mounting horror, she had the vial in her hands, holding it out as if it was a gift.

"Camilla..." he said, but she just continued forward, a sensual look upon her face. In contrast, Cyrdic narrowed his eyes dangerously, and his sword howled. He briefly thought she was an apparition, but he doubted it. He wouldn't take the chance of striking her down, anyhow. "Camilla," he said a bit more loudly, and when she reached him, he grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. Hard. "Hey, come on." he said. He wouldn't hurt her, but she'd thank him for the rough treatment later. "Snap out of it," he ordered. 
[@Penny]