Even given the fact they had only been around one another for a short time, Fanilly could tell that Alette had spoken with uncharacteristic graveness.

"But... what happened here?" she pressed, stepping closer to the mercenary. They'd killed one another... the thought was almost too horrific to imagine. These proud soldiers of Thaln, stationed here for the sake of her people, now dead from killing one another... Who did this to them? What could have caused them to take such measures against one another? "Why would they kill one another so horribly? It's like some sort of madness took them..."

She trailed off, as Alette simply shrugged.

"I can't say," she replied, "Don't have the first clue why they'd turn on one another like this. Pretty nasty business."

"Captain," spoke the iron-clad mountain of a man that had emerged from the fortress, "There is no reason not to tell them, now."

"Tch, as if I'd rat on our employer," she folded her arms, red eyes narrowed, "Bors, you know by now that a mercenary gets no-where by giving out information like that."

"You can inform them of what our employer asked for without telling them of their identity, Captain," Bors insisted, "You would prefer this mystery to be solved as well, would you not?"

"..."

For a few moments, the blue-haired mercenary was silent. Then, she let out a huff, reaching into a pack at her side before retrieving a sheet of paper, thrusting it at Fanilly while looking away.

"Fine."

After a moment, the smallish blonde knight took the paper and unfolded it.

"[i]Something has gone wrong,[/i]" Fanilly read aloud, "[i]And so you must perform the duty I hired you for. It is a black, glossy piece of metal, appearing dark even in a well-lit room. It should be wrapped in several layers of cloth, but if it is not take care not to touch it with your bare hands. Do not allow anyone to come into direct physical contact with the shard. Wrap it carefully and return to me.[/i]"

She lowered the sheet. A black, glossy shard? What did it mean?

"That's all we know," declared Alette with a idle wave of her hand.

Meanwhile, within the fort, the deathly pale woman straightened. She was, ignoring her corpselike pallor, stunningly beautiful with slender, soft features and amber eyes.

"Abigail," she began, "Abigail the Stingray. It's a pleasure to meet you, Sir Fleuri."

Her voice was airy and strange, almost dreamlike as she curtsied, as if this was a meeting of high society.

"... They butchered one another," she commented as she straightened, "So much blood, oh my... but my dear, dear Alette wasn't phased at all. Isn't she lovely?"

She placed a hand dreamily to her cheek, staring past the knights and out the door, towards where the mercenary captain stood.

"... I don't know why they did it. No-one does but them, and they're not moving. How unfortunate, all of them dying and not a single one getting up..."

She trailed off for a few moments as her gaze drifted back to the corpse at her feet.

'Abigail the Stingray'

It was rumored that among the Shark's mercenaries was a strange, ethereal, enigmatic figure. One who had lost entire limbs unphased, simply to reattach them to her body. One who coated her blades in poison so foul it could curdle the blood like old milk. One who called herself 'The Stingray'.

"... I took this from one of those ugly pigs, do you want it?"

She drew a note from her bag, and offered it to Fleuri.

It would be hastily scrawled, telling of a 'black shard' they were hired to pick up, and not to touch it, and to kill anyone who showed up to stop them.

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