Once the barrage of magical missiles had finished firing and the vanguard had cleaved their target in two, Tiral, though still wary, allowed his barriers to drop. Despite the distance from where he was relative to the witch, the apparent lack of blood from Tyaethe's swing was quite apparent. It was a given, then, that once that body double had dissipated into a swarm of butterflies that he would move to examine the leftovers. At the very least, the mage-knight assumed that it might be possible to trace the source. Puppetting a copy would likely leave something behind, which would make finding a trail far simpler.

"Pardon me," he said, running up the stairs and setting up a magic circle to attempt something, with a singular needle of ice floating above it to act as a compass. The results were made apparent in a few minutes: the needle spun around a few times before pointing in a direction that caused Tiral to balk.

"...The town? We need to move."