When Freya finished cleaning the last dagger, she heard Harol speaking up, trying to explain what he said. She let out a frustrated sigh and laid the dagger down onto the bed again, looking at him. "And you think that makes it sound better? Because it doesn't. I hate that damn scar, but another thing I hate is having to hide my face all the time, because if I don't, people will recognise me and betray me. That's the reason I can never pull down my hood and take off my veil, not even if I wanted to. I've been walking around like this for years now, only getting the chance to take off those damn things when I'm sure nobody will see me. I don't just wear a veil and a hood to hide that his forsaken scar, no matter how much I hate it, but because if anyone would see my face, that could mean my death. And don't tell me that you know what it feels like, because you hardly do. You walked around hiding your face for not even one goddamned day, I've done so for many years in a row." She replied, collecting her daggers, walking over to her belt, and attaching the daggers to her belt again.

"Also, I believe that my reward for keeping your ass safe was a sanctuary. Do you know what I imagine when I hear the word sanctuary? A place where I can be relaxed, with no worries. Somewhere people don't know me, where they won't judge me because of my past or what I am. Somewhere I can show my face again without fearing to be betrayed. Now tell me, does that sound like the place we're heading to, according to you? It better does, because rogues rarely make deals and keep promises, but when they do, you should return the favour. If not, you might regret promising me something you can't give." She added to her words, glaring at Harol. What he had said certainly hadn't calmed her down, and the look in her eyes as well as the tone in her voice gave that away.

Freya didn't care if her words sounded like a threat. It was a warning, one he might as well wanted to keep in his mind. Only several hours ago she had put her own life at risk to help him kill knights and assassins, because she knew what her reward would be in the end. Now if that reward couldn't be given to her, she was pretty much convinced she wouldn't put her own life at risk for him again.

Harol listened to Freya's anger in silence. Only after she was done with all the ranting she apparently had to let out, Harol moved the grimoire out of the way, and leaned his head against his other hand, simply staring at Freya with his other tattoo surrounded eye. Then he bit his teeth together, breathed in and started to speak in as calm a voice as possible (which still easily gave away his frustration with the situation): "Freya. When I say sanctuary, I do indeed mean a sanctuary. All you think of a sanctuary and more. And you are right on hiding the face part, I've not done that nearly as much as you. But for Ishul'Shog's sake I am not an oracle! I cannot bloody well tell your own preferences beforehand! I have barely known you for a day, if that! You cannot expect me to exactly know how comfortable you are moving around without them hood and veil of yours. If you could, I would understand this outburst of yours but no, I'm just lost here." Now Harol lifted his head up and straightened his back. "By the golem..."

Then he returned to his book for a mere moment to calm his thoughts. It only took him two sentences of reading before he spoke again: "I hate arguing, I really do. So unless you have some point you utterly must bring up about this argument, could we just stop it here for now? We might be able to go through it better and more constructively after a night's sleep." Harol then simply proceeded to read. He had done everything in his disposal, and he was still frustrated by the fact Freya seemed to manage to find something to be offended about in anything he said out loud. Thus Harol decided to simply shut up for now unless there was something that was really needed to be said.

Oh how it had all been simpler back at his own house before it went down. Never was there need for arguing, for people saw the things in the same way. It was in their upbringing. But of course arguing had to be taught to the warlocks for the simple reason not everyone saw eye to eye with them. This was, what, the second time he had ever had to utilize his skills outside of his lessons, and he could see he was not doing all that well. However, hopefully this was the end of that argument. Hopefully.

Freya sighed, keeping her mouth shut for a while. Of course Harol wasn't an oracle and he hardly knew anything about her. They hardly knew each other for a day and he couldn't have known why she was so sensitive about her scar and hiding her face, but if he wasn't sure if what he said would offend her, why didn't he just keep his mouth shut? That certainly wasn't that hard, was it? Maybe she shouldn't blame him for something he didn't even mean to do, but it still took her a while to calm and admit that maybe she was at fault.

"When I chose to become a rogue, hiding my face sounded great. Nobody would know who I was, nobody could recognise my face, remember that I was the daughter of a goddamn wrench and judge me because of it. And it was just as great as I thought it was, but only for a while. Eventually hiding my face wasn't an option any longer, but something I was forced to do in order to stay out if the hands if guards. I came to realise that people indeed did not judge me for my past, who my mother was, but that they did not really care, neither, because the moment I would reveal myself to them, they would call the guards so that they got the reward. Nobody cared who I was, only what I did and what kind of reward they would get for betraying me, and I learned not to trust anyone. Wearing my hood and veil once has been something I preferred, but since long, it us something I hate." Freya wasn't even sure why she was telling that to Harol. She never talked about her past with anyone, let alone some mage she hardly knew. It wasn't like she owed him an explanation for her frustration or anything. She didn't know why she told him anything about herself in the first place, but stopped talking before she would tell him more, getting to the part where one person had seen her face and hadn't called the guards or judged her, and that said person was her supposed husband. That was far too personal to share with someone she barely knew.

"So, there you go. That is why I hate wearing those things so much and why I do not like someone mentioning that I have to wear my hood and veil all the time." She added, but after that she remained silent. She had nothing left to say, shout or blame him for. If he wanted to ignore her or shout at her, that was fine to her. She deserved it, and certainly she could handle it.

Harol listened to all Freya had to say, and simply answered "If that is what you say. We all have our past and the experiences that shape us and they are not to be changed." Yes, that was everything he would say now. That at the very least should not be able to offend her. Then he simply continued to read. Minutes passed slowly as the words flew before his eyes, Harol continuously comparing the text to his own knowledge. He was pleased to notice he had this spell well within his realm of expertise, although he still had some minor issues remembering the exact amounts of lantern fuels to be used within the chant. Carnesphere was still the one he always got right 100%, and Mystic Flare the one he got right when he wanted to, but it was a great scare when performed wrong as seen earlier. It didn't backfire ridiculously, simply fizzled away like most of minor spells he had never had the opportunity to learn.

But as soon as he opened the page following those spells, he simply shut the book. That was enough for this night. He then stood up and carried the heavy book to the pile where he had the rest of his belongings. Slowly setting it on the floor next to everything else, a scroll that had unrolled itself caught Harol's attention. What was this? He took it into his hands to roll it into an easier to carry shape again, but his eyes read what the spell was called. It simply said Scree'Auk. He had heard of this, the spell was a 'rulebreaker' of sorts, something that could only be performed by a single warlock, yet it required so much power it would usually be performed by two. It could be performed by one, but in the end it would stress the warlock in extreme amounts. He quickly rolled it up as he had planned and placed it somewhere within the pile. He would not study that one.

Harol stood up again and yawned. It was late enough to actually start sleeping. However, he noticed that he might want to share some information about the house before that, and thus opened his mouth: "Freya, I still have something to tell about house Clasz, just something so you know what to expect. The people there are mostly oracles as I might have told you earlier. However, they still have some warriors in there, so we will most likely get greeted by some of them. No need to be startled by that, you can let me tell them our business and they'll likely accompany us the rest of the way for our safety. They will likely know to expect us. Now, was there something more you wanted to know or may I just put out this candle, set this robe of mine aside and go to sleep?"

Freya listened to what Harol said and nodded. It was a good thing he told her that, so that she won't at least assume wrong things when one of the warriors would greet them, and accidentally call the wrath of a house of oracles and warriors upon her, and possibly onto Harol as well. No need to make more enemies than she already had, even if she didn't plan to make any friends in the house of Clasz, neither. "In that case, I will treat them the same way as I treat anyone else." Freya simply responded. That would be with the same kind of distrust and refusal to bow, kneel or whatsoever for them. Maybe that wasn't something the warriors and oracles approved, but then again, it was part of who she was. She never let anyone bring her down on her knees, kneeling, begging or even bowing, and she wasn't going to change that.

"As for now though, I do not believe I have any questions to ask or things to say. Goodnight, Harol." She added, stepping into the bed and pulling the warm blanket over herself. Her words weren't meant in a wrong way this time, unlike before. She didn't feel as angered as before. Of course, she still didn't like what he had said, but she was no longer angry over it. And in the end, it wasn't like he was the only one to blame for the argument. Closing her eyes and emptying her head from all thoughts and worries, Freya soon fell into a very light, yet peaceful slumber.

It was good to know that they could approach the house without worrying about misunderstandings. "Good night to you too", Harol responded to Freya and then put out the candle. Then he started to get out of his robe. It was easier to get on oneself than take it off for whatever reason, or at least Harol's personal experience said so. But in the end, he managed to get out of it, and was now standing in his much less expensive looking shirt and pants, the colours of which could not be seen in this light... not that anyone was supposedly looking anyway. The robe was then neatly folded onto the pile of other belongings and then Harol went to bed.

The sleep did not come easily. The fight they had had during the day came back to haunt him, how he had killed multiple people just swinging the massive deathball all around... and how he had very physically assisted in the killing of that one person who then got a dagger into his heart to ensure he was truly gone. They had all been human beings with people who cared for them... well most likely anyway... but then again, said people had also taken Harol's family away from him. Now they had been people who for sure had caring families, people that had not wronged a person without good reason, people who simply did not want to be puppets and tools of war. And this was the king's response, to slay them all. Harol felt easier in his heart, what he had done was at least somewhat more justified... and then, his mind drifted to the awaited sleep.

Harol was awakened by the sun shining to his eyelids. He did not know how long he had slept exactly, but he rose up slowly and still a bit sleepy, rubbing his eyes. The first thing he instinctively did was find his robe and pull it over his head, letting the fabric settle around him with his arms reaching upward, helping the piece of clothing move into the right direction as it's own weight pulled it downwards. He remembered little of his dreams of this night, but he did remember they had had something to do with the spell he had discovered from his pile of scrolls yesterday. However, this thinking was suddenly interrupted by somebody knocking on the door. Nothing of the sort had been spoken with Noddy... was this him or somebody else entirely?

Freya woke up not much later after Harol had put on his robe and sat up in the bed, still sleepy. She yawned and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, getting out of the bed rather slowly. "Good morning.." She mumbled, still sounding sleepy as she ran a hand through her hair and started braiding it, despite the fact that it would be hidden under her hood anyway. Walking over to her pile of belongings, Freya yawned once again and sighed softly, not actually wanting to get prepared and travelling already. No matter how late it was, Freya felt like it was still way too early. Yes, she was for certain a good rogue, excellent even in her own eyes, but regardless, but she still wasn't a morning person, not at all.

But when she heard someone knocking at the door, Freya seemed to get wide awake and in her usual modus again, quickly grabbing a dagger, while attaching the others to her belt and putting it around her waist before Harol could've opened the door. She pressed the dagger into his hand, looking at him. "Noddy may have been killed and whoever is at the other side of the door may have no good intentions, or not anymore when they recognise you. Therefor, do not open the door without a way to defend yourself, something quick and efficient preferably. But, do not show it in clear sight neither, unless you wish to look suspicious or threatening." She spoke at a low volume so that whoever was at the other side of the door couldn't hear her.

After she was done talking, Freya took another dagger from her belt, keeping this one. After all she would need to be prepared to fight too, not just Harol. She quietly hid the dagger she was holding behind her back, keeping it out of sight, like she had told Harol to do too. She was aware of the fact that while she was without her hood and veil, whoever it was who waited at the other side of the door could recognise her easily, but if they would turn against her, she had a dagger ready. She would get her veil and hood back on once this had been taken care of.

Harol stared at the dagger he had been given, waved it in the air a couple times and swallowed. He was not really that fond of the idea of close quarters combat, but he couldn't help it, one had to be ready for an ambush if in a situation like this. Harol knocked back on the door and said "Yes?" in an audible voice, so the person outside could tell their business. "Oh it is just me, Noddy, and a couple freaking... AUGH" "Well this guy did not know what was good for him." "Certainly not." The first voice had indeed belonged to Noddy, but the two voices that had followed... he could not tell who those guys were.

"I do believe we have unpleasant individuals behind that door of ours, even if it is evident by now", Harol whispered back to Freya. This is problematic, Harol thought to himself. Those people were likely armed much better than them, Harol could not use his weaponry, his spells would likely cause the whole village to sublime or something of similar effect. What should they do? What could they do? Harol bit his lip. This was a bad spot to be in. The people outside did not speak any longer, but they knocked on the door again, and attempted to open it. However, the thick metal hook held the door firmly shut. It sounded like one of them banged their shoulder against the door even, but it would not give in.

"We are mostly underground..." Harol muttered and took a quick look at the window. It was not nearly big enough to fit his lantern through it, and it was not even sure if a human could get through. Just... he had one thing he could perform here... "Freya, if you can, keep the door shut for as long as you can. This spell might cause unnecessary collateral damage, but it is our only shot at survival!" Harol took a few running steps and grabbed his lantern. Lucky for him, he had went through this spell last evening... "Move out of the way as soon as I stop chanting and swing my lantern, for that is when things go boom", Harol instructed Freya and started to summon the wrath of Rooftrellen's graceful incantation of earthen fury.

Freya paid close attention to the sounds coming from the other side of the door, and cursed softly when it became obvious that there were at least two people with bad intentions over there. This wasn't a fortunate spot to be in, not at all. She wasn't looking forward to having yet another fight, even if this time it would be two against two, while they had taken down a much bigger group the previous day.

When Harol suggested using a spell, she looked at him in silence, wondering if the warlock had probably gone insane. Not because magic wasn't such a bad option, but because he had explained to her the other day that the spells his house practised had a great, large impact, and she was in the same room as he was, and he was wanting to use a spell. Letting out a sigh and mumbling something inaudible under her breath, Freya moved over to the door and tried to hold it shut.

The combined strength of the two men at the other side trying to open the door was a lot, and it took Freya a much effort and all the strength she had within her to keep the door shut, something that became very visible on the face of the rogue. When they managed to move the door ever so slightly, her feet slipped, and she felt pain stinging into them, several splinters coming from the wooden floor and piercing into her bare feet, seeing how she hadn't had anytime to put her shoes on just yet, very much like her hooded coat, veil and gloves. As the various splinters got stuck in her feet, an expression of pain mixed with the rest of the look on her face.

When she heard Harol stopped his chanting she quickly moved away from the door, hoping for the sake of both of their lives that he knew what he was doing, as the splinters were pressed further into her feet with every step she took.

The chanting stopped, Freya moved and the lantern was swung. No more needed to happen for the magical forces to start rushing through Harol's body, eager to fulfil the Warlock's bidding. One could at first see nothing, but only after two seconds the very earth itself beyond the floor spilt into two, a massive crack forming onto the ground in a matter of seconds. Nothing could stand on the way of the mayhem unfolding before the Warlock as the magic cut through the door, walls, floor, more walls, anything really, splitting the earth into this spiky chasm and pushing anyone on it's way aside. Luckily for the assailants, neither had stood directly in front of the spell, for that would have made quite a mess, tearing them into two. Now they simply flew to the side and received the scare of their life (and a bump on their heads which collided with a nearby wall).

Harol pressed his teeth together and let the magic push forward. He really had not been prepared to cast anything of the magnitude thanks to only recently waking up, but it was more or less their only chance. He could hear buildings cracking in the distance as the chasm kept on reaching out. This spell could not be stopped prematurely. It would make its way where it wanted and then halt. And in a moment it did, and everything returned to the calmness that had existed before the incident of knocking on the door. "Well", Harol managed to speak inbetween his heavy breathing, "that's our route... out I guess..." He then proceeded to sway forwards towards the chasm, but managed to change the direction of his fall and collapsed on the bed behind him. "Let me just... take a breather... guess you need your boots and such too..." He was tired. Channeling magic always took its toll. He was still amazed how well he had handled the Carnesphere in the earlier encounter. Now this was what he was used to feeling like.

After a short break Harol stood up leaning on his staff and admired his handiwork. A clean cut mostly away from the city, although it did cost some poor fellow a house. He would not want to be around when they came searching for where that had come from. Harol inhaled deep and exhaled slowly, and then simply said: "We best get moving now. The chasm is really not safe to traverse as you can see, the surface is incredibly jagged so let us try and go straight to its right side. That's where we need to be after all and we really cannot jump over it. The problem with area denial I guess." It was time to leave for House Clasz. Boy would they be glad when they heard about this mess in the nearest village, that will totally help the locals trusting magic users.

Freya's eyes widened as she watched the earth being ripped apart, starting from where Harol was standing and travelling very far until it eventually stopped, creating a chasm in the ground not too far away from their feet. Looking at the chasm for a moment, Freya could only be grateful she moved out of the way in time. She nodded in response to Harol's words and sat down, getting the splinters out of her feet before putting her boots on, soon after that getting her hood, veil and gloves back on as well, causing her to be as unrecognisable as usual.

Admiring Harol's work as he took his breath for a moment, Freya couldn't help but be impressed. Sure she had seen what he had done the day before, but now she was again reminded of how powerful he actually was. And although this would certainly draw attention, he had just saved their lives. When he told her to stay at the right side of the chasm she nodded and started walking when he was ready.

What he had done was truly impressive, and Freya quietly thought about everything. He was a very powerful mage, and she couldn't help but notice that again. It just sounded ridiculous that a powerful mage like Harol needed Freya's help to protect him, yet that was their strange reality.

Harol followed Freya for a moment, but started to overtake her once they had made it far enough from the wreck he had caused. He had the rain hood on his head once again, and he could only hope he had managed to collect all of his belongings before they had had to go. "If Noddy survived, he will likely try to seek us out", Harol said to Freya as soon as they had made it outside of the village. "That is only his best interest, given I promised to free him of some of the favours. But I am unsure what happens if he was killed, and I didn't happen to look at the left side of the chasm where the assailants and Noddy must've been." Soon they would come to crossroads where they would take the right turn and dive into another forest, much like how they spent their time yesterday. The house Clasz was drawing ever nearer.

Just as they reached the edge of the forest, Harol had to stop for a drink. "So Freya, we are close", he simply told her before taking a sip from his waterskin, noticing how low on water it actually was. He had thought about filling it in the morning, but hadn't had the time thanks to the little ambush. Deciding to be a gentleman, he offered the rest to Freya, as she must have gotten thirsty during the trek as well. "You can have the rest. It's all we have but at the very least we will be at house Clasz soon." Handing the waterskin to Freya, he then continued walking rather slowly, letting her easily catch up and once she did, he returned to normal pace.

The shadows of the trees all around shaded the road nicely, and although it was still rather cool spring weather, Harol found this to be more comfortable than what it had been walking in direct sunlight for the start. At the very least the sun did not shine directly into your eye and the smell of the trees was pretty nice after all. But soon-ish they were interrupted by two warriors clad in full plate armour armed with heavy kiteshields and flails. The symbol on their shields however was familiar to Harol and he remained calm as one of them spoke: "You have arrived to grounds of House Clasz." The symbol looked like an hourglass at a glance, but if attention was paid to it, one could see it was a crudely drawn eye split from the middle and the pointy ends placed against each other*. "I do believe we have", Harol answered, "and I also think you have been expecting us. House Arkdal fell, as you should well know by now. Me and my friend seek sanctuary, and we know you can provide it." "And you are correct with all that, warlock. we will join you for the rest of you journey", the soldier confirmed and they tuned around to lead the way. It was only then the Harol heard noise from behind him. A quick look revealed three more warriors in similar gear. How had they managed to sneak there? Well, that mattered no longer, they were safe now.

*

Although Harol seemed to feel safe around those knights and he had informed her about them earlier, Freya had one hand resting around the handle of a dagger, her distrust showing up as was usual for the woman. After all, they knew Harol, not her, and what reason would they have to protect and not attack a stranger stepping onto their ground? She didn't practice any kind of magic, unlike them, and she wasn't just any stranger, but a wanted rogue. Obviously enough, it would only make sense that they saw her as a threat, but that didn't seem to be the case.

If anything other than distrust, Freya couldn't help but feeling uncomfortable and like an outcast. Those people they were going to, were peaceful mages and warriors with at least some honour, or so she assumed. And Freya herself? She was nothing like that. She had not even the slightest bit of knowledge about magic, and honour was something unfamiliar to the untrustworthy rogue, who had been loyal to none but one person throughout her life so far, stole and hardly ever gave, not caring if she stole from the rich or the poor. She felt like an outsider, like she didn't belong with those people at all, and knowing she would meet oracles, who could just know everything about her, even the secrets she held, like being the daughter of a prostitute and falling in love with a mercenary assigned to attack her and almost marrying that man, but ending up with his corpse next to her the night before their wedding. Knowing that the oracles could very well now this about her, and with that just every other part of her, made her feel uneasy.

It was no secret that Harol was happy. His smile was wider than ever before, and for a good reason. His life was as safe as it had been... what, few days before? But at the very least, he was safe again. SAFE. Harol could have basked on the word for days, but he decided to leave it here and just smile. House Clasz would certainly keep them both safe, at least for a good while until the king figured out where he could have gone. House Clasz would be one of the last ones to ever get searched thanks to the fact the king thought they had no armed forces. Oh how wrong he was! Harol really rejoiced in this 'victory' of his but somehow managed to notice that Freya was much less content with the situation.

"What is it?" he quietly asked from Freya. "We are safe, you can finally have the long awaited time of not worrying. Are you suspecting another ambush or something?" Harol really kept his voice down to not let the knights hear. It was not that he didn't trust them, it was the fact Freya seemed to have a problem with something, and it could be these knights, even if she had known they'd accompany them, her being used to avoiding men of law in shining armour. He wanted to know what made her stay on guard even when she could finally relax after all these years.

After some time, maybe about thirty minutes, the group arrived to the gate that was the final obstacle between them and the most secure grounds of House Clasz. It was a giant steel gate that was moved by chains. Such a sturdy gate in the sturdy wall of the house did not draw attentiuon from the king, as the explanation 'It is for our safety, given we have no armed troops apart from hired muscle, and not very much of those either' had passed without him rising an eyebrow. The ornate gate featuring many symbols from eyes to hourglasses slowly moved out of the way as a few men pulled the chains that were attached to the great structure. On the center of the grounds stood the great house built of stone painted in faint purple. It never failed to earn Harol's admiration.

Freya looked at Harol, slightly raising an eyebrow. Was he truly thinking both of them were safe? To Freya, it couldn't sound more like a foolish, naive thought. "No, you are safe. I am a rogue, thief, murderer and traitor trespassing their ground. I am a criminal and they may have a reason to keep you safe, but can you say the same counts for me? Because be honest about it; what would be better, to have a criminal on your grounds, or to turn said criminal in?" She asked, before looking at the path that lied ahead of her, Harol and the knights.

She didn't bother trying to explain to him that she felt like an outcast and uncomfortable, doubting if he'd understand. He seemed to have at the very least one thing in common with these men, but Freya didn't, so how would he be able to understand what she meant? And she didn't exactly feel like telling him she didn't want to meet any oracles, not wanting to explain why. She didn't want to tell him about her past, or to have anyone know about it, for that matter. There were things she just preferred to keep secret. Things that had happened and were better of buried than mentioned again.

When they got to the gates, Freya watched quietly as they opened. The building on the other side was purple, and quite big. Freya had never seen such a big building from so close, and it sure managed to impress her. She couldn't help but wonder what it would be like trying to break into a place like this, just to distract herself, but soon figured that it would be far too risky. They may have a pretty large amount of.valuables inside, but they also had oracles and trained warriors. Not to mention getting through the gate and slipping into the building unnoticed.

Harol could somewhat understand Freya's fear of being simply turned in by house Clasz, but as Harol knew the house in question he knew that outcome to be extremely unlikely. Houses Arkdal and Clasz go way back, and even if it was not for the long-term friendship between the two families, house Clasz was not exactly the most... obedient house out there. After all, if they were why would they hide their warriors from the king instead of aiding the throne? And after all, it had been house Clasz that had convinced house Arkdal to say something against the wrongful treatment of them. They couldn't possibly deny Harol's request for sanctuary, nor could they leave Freya outside now that she was on the list of king's enemies just as well.

The heavily armoured warriors stopped at the main door of the manor, and the two that had walked in front joined their friends behind Harol and Freya. Then the door opened and an elderly lady in servant's outfit walked out and spoke to the group before the door: "Our awaited guests! How joyous are the heads of house Clasz to see you are both in one piece! Follow me, I will bring you to lord Mortimer right away." Wait, had Harol just heard correctly? They would be brought to lord Mortimer? The man usually only had brief meets with the most important people of house Arkdal, always said he was busy... Well, given Harol was one of the that remain, he was one of the most important people now that he thought about it!

Harol followed the servant inside the building, and noticed the warriors were not coming. These people must be some of the house's actual hired muscle. Otherwise they are just as anyone else, but they are forbidden entry to the main building and they get paid for being around. And they go through checks all the time... even if they don't know it. The house makes sure no man that would serve the king rather than the house would ever be a part of their group. But Harol and Freya were inside the building, following the servant to see the head of the house himself.

It was not a long journey through the hallways, but Harol noticed they had avoided the room that held the pride of the house, a giant marble statue depicting the guardian of the house, Yurnero, the Mask of truth. He was unsure why, but he did not mention it out loud. They soon entered the western wing library of the house, in which lord Mortimer awaited, sitting in a chair, his face towards a giant window with his back towards the door. "Oh lord Mortimer, may I present the warlock in learning Harol of House Arkdal and his companion", the servant said softly, and after Mortimer raised his left hand slightly off the armrest as a sign of hearing what had been said, she left the room and closed the door behind her. Lord Mortimer stood up and walked towards Harol and Freya, albeit a bit stumbling. As he had gotten close enough, Harol could see the reason to that, even against the light: The man's eyes were hidden beneath a piece of cloth.

Freya couldn't help but feel relieved when the warriors no longer followed them and no other warriors came to take their place. Not that she had ever done anything that could've made her an enemy of them house -or at least, not for as far as she was aware-, but she couldn't help them fact that she didn't feel safe. That the warriors were gone made her slightly more at ease, though not more than a mere fraction. However even though there were no warriors around anymore, there was the lady that led them to 'lord Mortimer'. Freya had no clue about who the man was, but considering his title he was probably someone important, perhaps the head of the house.

As they walked towards lord Mortimer, Freya looked around at the place quietly. It was just as impressive on the inside as it was on the outside, or at least to her it was. She figured that somehow made,sense. It was usually the case with buildings. A tavern didn't look any more appealing on the outside than it did on the inside, after all.

Although there were many books inside, the library wasn't that interesting to Freya. After all the rogue had never learned how to read, and had no reason to learn how to do so. It wasn't exactly a necessity for her anyway. She looked quietly at lord Mortimer, deciding to stay quiet, unless she was asked something. It seemed quite strange to her that the man was hiding his eyes, but she didn't ask anything.

"Greetings. I trust the case of my eyes puzzles you, and rightly so. I... might've used my powers a bit too leniently and slacked on the necessary preparation and aftercare and thus left both my eyesight and oracle's vision clouded. I hope I am not offending you by meeting you in my... unfortunate state, but it has to be said I brought it upon myself by searching for remnants of house Arkdal. I am glad at least one found his way to us. Trust us, we at house Clasz meant no ill when we encouraged you to speak up your mind... we never guessed it would bring something like this upon you... Yurnero did not bless us with a warning..." lord Mortimer spoke to mainly Harol. He evidently did recognise Freya's presence, at least judging by his body language, but had not really said anything that would matter to her.

So even the great leaders of magical houses did sometimes mess up? Knowing this made Harol feel much better about the many mistakes he had made during his studied... well, not so many but with magic like his a simple mistake had the habit of incinerating buildings, smashing the caster bedridden for a week and such, they left quite the mark in one's mind. Before Harol had any chance to respond to the man, lord Mortimer opened his mouth again and now seemed to say something to Freya: "As for you, companion of... Harol, was it? Yes, companion of Harol. I've seen someone save his life in a fight before... well..." he said tapping the blindfold, "so you are as welcome here as he is. It is the least we can do for..." he then abruptly stopped mid sentence and moved his hand below the blindfold and apparently touched the general area of his left eye. As he pulled the hand back from there, it could be seen it had blood on it. "Oh dear...", he muttered, and then quickly spoke again: "Well, Cyrus will be here soon. Just sit tight, I'll need to..." and then he walked to the door, opened it and a male servant led him away. The same elderly lady that had brought them to the room smiled to Harol and Freya and closed the door behind lord Mortimer.

"Well sounds like there is nothing to worry..." Harol said a few seconds after what had happened. "I didn't have the opportunity to say anything back but I guess that'll have to wait." He then turned more towards Freya and continued: "But I guess you will not be able to relax, having the need to be always vigilant and all. I'd say have no fear but I guess that wouldn't help any." Having said what had been on his mind, while keeping his ears open Harol let his eyes scan the shelves around himself. He did not recognise any of the covers, but that was no wonder, given the magic of house Clasz had always been vastly different from the one of house Arkdal. They would showcase their own expertise like this, now wouldn't they? If they had books of mass-destruction magic, they'd be much farther into the library... but lord Mortimer had instructed them to await for Cyrus. The name rang no bells for Harol, other than the fact he was sure he had heard it mentioned by people of house Clasz in earlier visits. Must be someone of high station as well.

Freya felt a bit of reassurance upon hearing the words of lord Mortimer. So she was welcome. Of course she wasn't convinced that fact kept her entirely safe, but it was something. And apparently the vision he had seen wasn't one in which she was portrayed badly. Saving Harol's life was definitely one of the few good things she had ever done, and she still didn't understand why she had actually done so. It would've been much easier for her to just run off and leave Harol behind, after all, and that wasn't exactly something she had never done before. But still, something had kept her from doing so, which she found quite strange, and a bit worrying, too. It wasn't a good thing of she was going to be loyal and caring rather than selfishly considering what was best for her. Being loyal as a rogue wasn't good at all, she could be betrayed much easier that way.

Listening to what Harol said, Freya nodded. "I suppose you are right, it seems that we are safe. And maybe I should try to let my guard down a little, but that is not as easy. After all, if you have been and are a rogue for some time you become quite... Psychotic when it comes to trust and safety." Yes, psychotic seemed to be the best word to describe it. After all, her distrust and whatnot couldn't exactly be called normal.

Harol simply nodded and made an incomprehensible little mumble as a sign to hearing Freya's response to him, but did not spend the time to form a full spoken response. He was too busy admiring the collection of books around, even if the fact he would do nothing with them was a given. He couldn't really recall any of the writer's names, but after all this was literature of an entirely different type of magic, so it was no wonder. However, keeping his eyes focused on the shelves, Harol failed to notice a table in front of him and managed to smash his kneecap onto said table's corner.

"Ow!" escaped Harol's mouth before he swallowed the rest of the words that were about to join the fray, and better that he did so too, for they were not exactly very pleasant words to hear. On the table was a single book, and one that someone had been reading recently, at least judging by the fact how hastily placed the bookmark appeared. Harol read the name of the book on the cover out loud: "Chaos Inoculation: A collection of birthrites utilized by magically talented families, by Calder Paw. I've never heard of this book before... or of the subject it seems to concern..." Harol reached for the bookmark. He could take a quick look and return the bookmark where it was. He would not need to disturb the original reader's markings to have a look... Opening the surprisingly lightweight book for one about magic (but by no means a small one on general scale!), Harol was greeted by the header Eldritchian battery, a.k.a. Surgeflow ritual. That was as far as he got before the door to the library opened and drew his attention away from the book.

At first, Harol was shocked. The armour of the man that had entered was of similar design to Noddy's, but it didn't take long for Harol to tell that this man was not Noddy, for pretty much everything else about the two did not match. Noddy had been somewhat small and rogue-ish individual, while this guy was almost half-a-man bigger than him, not to mention their completely different hair colour - this one was a redhead. "I trust you two are Harol and Freya. My name is Cyrus. I was supposed to meet you with Mortimer, but I am guessing his eyes acted up. He warned me that might happen..." his voice was deep, but not overly so, and just by his voice this person sounded friendly, although not a person you would most likely be cracking jokes with. Harol slowly closed the book and left the bookmark where it had been. He might have the time to finish reading later.