The remainder of the day was, thankfully, not nearly as eventful as its beginning. Any further attacks made by the enemy could be easily repelled at this point, and it was only a matter of time until the enemy threw in the proverbial towel. A good general knows when the battle was lost-- that the scales have tipped too far in the favor of the enemy, and that it was time to retreat. The tactician who was currently advising the invaders must be competent enough to realize that much. After all, a simple Orc Warlord would not have been capable of such tactics.

Thus, the rest of that day consisted of Balthazar doing paperwork. With his Record-Hunters at his side, he could easily churn out enough orders and reports to ensure all fronts were updated on the situation at hand. When the fighting had subsided, he and the Prince worked to try and convince the Duke of Bergkoff to open the possibility for a small celebration to raise morale. Although Balthazar would take no part in such festivities himself, its effects on the attitudes of the city's citizens and soldiers were undeniable.

Of course, he would not have advocated for this if the siege were to be protracted, or if there was a shortage of food, but if all went well, Siegfried and his reinforcements would be here to help break the siege of Bergkoff and turn things around on the enemy. Thus, as the townspeople and soldiers moved to enjoy a pleasant evening within the town square, Balthazar would retire to his quarters. The thing he would do next required... privacy.

"M'lord." A soft voice said from behind the door. 

Balthazar took a moment to confirm its authenticity, before opening it. "[color=#239C89]You've grown to be a capable courier, Miss Mary.[/color]" He commented as he took the envelope from her hands.

"It's no trouble, m'lord." The maid smiled. "You've treated me very well so far."

"[color=#239C89]So I hope.[/color]" He reached into his coinpurse and placed a Sovereign in her palm. "[color=#239C89]Do enjoy the festivities tonight, Miss Mary.[/color]"

Shocked at his generosity, she stammered out words of thanks as she bowed deeply. "T-thank you, m'lord! I won't forget your kindness."

Balthazar merely smiled and waved her off. She was a useful asset within the castle, and although she had no connections to speak of, she could prove to be a valuable source of information within Bergkoff in the future. When she was gone, the man locked the doors to his bedchambers and began to read the contents of the newly-delivered envelope.

"[color=#239C89]Drana Turash...[/color]" Balthazar mused openly as he compiled the information he knew into several sheets of parchment.

[hider=Dossier: Drana Turash]
A Kalashtari noblewoman of some controversy. Granddaughter of Kilas Turash, and niece of Serra Turash, though both still give her distance, one way or the other. After a certain incident in the early days of her youth, she was disowned and handed off to the Sacred Order of the Black Desert, where she had served for the next couple of decades. Stripped of her family title, she was technically not a noblewoman anymore-- though she still commanded respect as a priestess: a Cleric of the Dead, in fact.

Loyalty to the Crown unknown. Further investigation required.
[/hider]
Balthazar yawned as he glanced at his pocketwatch. It was not particularly late, and it seems the festivities were only just beginning. He looked out the window to observe from a distance, packed his pipe full of tobacco, and enjoyed the solitude as best he could from the comfort of his room.