*Lecter nods again*
Lecter: You helped with Be'lak, I'll help with them.
*He finishes his glass, and goes to refill it*
Lecter: You and Sasha are part of some kind of resistance group then, right? To help kill them?

*In the forest, four gray armored figures head towards the direction of the room. They're battered and muddy, with one of them having a cut across his chestplate*
Figure One: This storm couldn't have been his design. Even for him, this is too much.
Figure Two: You give an apostate too much credit, Darus. He's only gotten this far because of luck, not talent.