To any of her troops, and even the brigands that excelled at stealth tactics, Camilla's footfalls would have been undetectable. Her riding boots stepped softly along the moist ground, missing every leaf that might cackle, and barely brushing the passing shrubbery or twigs that swayed in the cool night breeze. Her destination lay at the top of the forested rise, and even as she moved, she drew her sword without a whisper of a sound. 

Her next few steps led her to the top of the climb, though she still hid in the leaves of a lowered tree canopy. Camilla's eyes pierced the gloom, but even still she couldn't see anyone. A part of her told herself to step forward again, and she was just about to move before she froze as if struck. 

Something tickled her senses. Something was there in the wood, but she had no idea where it could be. A presence permeated the clearing, and what's more, she had the distinct feeling it was because whatever it was allowed it. If she had been the Elf's enemy, she would have been dead before her next heartbeat, and the cold sensation of steel at the base of her spine caused her to squawk, as she used to do with Cyrdic. The very noise constricted her heart at the thought of him.

"You have good instincts." the Elf said, interrupting her grief, and it took her a moment to realize he was not speaking any human tongue. When she turned, he would be gone. Instead, somehow he was now behind her once more. It irked her that he could move so effortlessly, and with a simple leap that spun her thrice through the air, she landed nimbly before him, standing face to face, her blade point near his chest. If he was worried, he gave no sign. "You hold the blade made by my kin across the water. Perhaps you are suitable enough to help save this land." 

"What do you want?" she demanded of him, choosing now not to be the time to question how she understood Elven. 

"Your pride is wounded." He stated, rather than asked. "Do not fret, even others of my kind cannot track me, save other WayWatchers. I am Aldaerion, and what I want is what you want. To see this land survive the coming threat. You would be the only human that would likely listen to me." He spoke without the haughtiness of the High Elves she had met in Kislev. Either the Elves of Athel Loren were less proud of a race (doubtful), or this one had spent far too long in solitude to retain the habits of his other kin. 

"Stop speaking in riddles. Tell me what you came to tell me." 

He nodded, accepting the simple logic. "The Red Duke rises." 

Camilla shook her head, the image of the Ghastly form dispersed within the Fortress of D'Epee fresh in her mind. It was the last thing she remembered before Cyrdic had been lost. "No, we killed him." 

"We?" The Elf asked, and at Camilla's grimace, he decided it was best not to broach the subject. "When exactly did you do this?" 

"Four full moon's ago." she replied, having the counted the days since her self imposed exile and her campaign to aid the peasants of the land. The Undead attacks had grown ever since she and Beaumont had left the Fortress, harrying villages and killing passing merchants. "We killed his bride, and he was banished by the sorcery that bound them together. I saw his spirit flee." 

After a moment of consideration by Aldaerion, the Elf looked at her directly. "You did not kill him." he told her, in no uncertain terms. "You released him." 

[hr] 

It was a really strange turn of events to Cyrdic's point of view. That the mage would be treated better than the soldier, in Bretonnia of all Sigmar-forsaken places. They had been taken to the castle of the Baron D'Elbiq, which was simply a glorified keep with a small walled community, that overlooked the closest wood and marshland to the northeast, just between it and the Forest of Chalons that covered the horizon. 

They had been chained and nearly dragged by the horses, or at least Cyrdic had. Hermman was small enough to be tossed over the back of one like a towel, but Cyrdic's bulk kept him from sharing a steed with another rider so he had to keep up with their trot. To the surprise of the Yeomen, Cyrdic did without complaint, further causing them to fear him for some pagan cursed beast from Athel Lore or the Grey Mountains. 

Once they made it to the Baron's Castle, they were both shoved before the Baron, a stately man with a pointed nose and an overbearing mouth, who gaped at Cyrdic. The Knights present had drawn swords, and exclaimed to themselves in their tongue. "Throw this...this thing in the dungeons!" he cried, and Cyrdic was pulled away. Briefly he thought of struggling, particularly after he was kneed in the stomach for simply looking back at Hermman who now stood what looked like a 'trial' before the Baron, but he felt it wouldn't be right. 

These were fighting men, doing what they had to with some Herculean son of Ulric they had found poaching in the woods. He had been in the wrong, so he would tough it out and take what they threw at him. What did it matter? The Knight pulling his chains stopped at the furthest jailed door in the lowest dungeon, probably a dozen paces below ground level. Cyrdic spoke up for the first time. "What's to happen to me?" he said in Reikspeil. 

"Silencieux, la bête!" he ordered. 

"Je suis un... soldat? Comme toi" he said to him, giving the Knight pause. He couldn't read the Cavalier's reaction, as he still bore his helmet. But after a moment, he called for the gailor to open the cell and looked at Cyrdic through his visor. "Par...your honeur?" he asked, indicating Cyrdic's chains. Cyrdic realized what the man was asking, and Cyrdic nodded. Truth be told, he could probably break out of them as soon as he entered the jail, but he wished to gain a measure of trust with the Knight, and once he unlocked his chains, Cyrdic obediently entered the jail cell. 

It was somewhat roomy, considering. But there was no cot. Simply a small space to sit, and a bail of hay at the corner. The door closed noisily. "Quand la madam fille arrivera, vous serez jugé." he told the Ostlander, and left him there alone, with no word on Hermman or what his punishment was to be...
[@Penny]