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Honestly, could this day get any worse? 

Jorah lurched into the cathedral with the rest of the crowd, their curiosity struggling to permeate his own sulking. It was like the Goddess rolled out of her bed of stars that morning and made it her mission to ruin his day. First, Clarissa abandoned him for some crusty Archbishop on her birthday, and now their school day was being made longer by an assembly called by the aforementioned crusty Archbishop? The dour faces on all the guards seemed a little ill at ease for an assembly, but Jorah took solace in the fact that if he was having a bad day, so was everyone else. 

He unceremoniously plopped into a seat along the same pew as the rest of the Deer, making sure Clarissa noticed his refusal to look her way. How could she! The one year they were guaranteed able to spend her birthday together, and she just tossed him aside for a [i]tea party.[/i] With some stuffy church official and [i]Auberon[/i] of all people. Jorah hadn’t been so insulted since that year she spent her birthday in Derdriu for the official opening of the new garment district. He sold one of his father’s signet rings to hire that male courtesan for her, but did she appreciate it? Of course not! Instead, it was all [i]“Jorah, that’s obscene!”[/i] this, and [i]“Jorah, I’m only sixteen!”[/i] that. Didn’t even bother to thank him for the man-sized cake the fellow popped out of. It was like she didn’t even appreciate the gesture. 

He huffed at the memory, crossing his arms. Sure, he didn’t have any grand plans today, but sneaking out for a ride in the nearby forest could have been nice, right? Not as nice as tea with Stick-In-Ass Auberon and Archbishop Ioannis, Snoozefest in Chief, apparently. 

Like a cold wind, a dark shift in the emotional tone of the room alerted Jorah to something important going on, and he reluctantly lent the Archbishop his ear just in time to hear his warning about disappearances. Hm, yep, that’d do it. Jorah was curious why the Archbishop would go so far as to request support from the Northern Church for the sake of some rumours, but then, that was all the evidence he needed, wasn’t it? You don’t take that kind of action unless your “rumours” are substantiated, and if they’re substantiated… well, then they aren’t really rumours at all. 

Jorah had a nagging feeling (egged on by the growing nervousness in the room) that he wasn’t as concerned about this announcement as he should be. He wasn’t close enough to the Archbishop to plumb his emotions for hints (and even if he was, the interference of the rest of the room would have made it difficult) but he didn’t think he needed to. The Monastery’s actions alone proved there was something behind the rumours, and yet he still wasn’t really all that nervous. On the contrary, the first thought that came to mind was that once word reached Derdriu of these disappearances, he might be able to use them as cover to get out of dodge. He could fake his own kidnapping; House Riegan would sadly lose its eldest and Delia would take the Dukedom and the Lordship, and the poor late Jorah von Riegan could live his days as Torah, common man roaming and adventuring to his heart’s content. Jorah smirked at the thought, though it soon went cold. The Duke would probably be happy about that in secret, if his lack of concern over the Luin incident was anything to go by. 

The Archbishop dismissed the crowd, and Clarissa wasted no time looking on the bright side. Jorah, meanwhile, made a great show out of ignoring her, only to be disappointed when she was pulled away with nary a glance in his direction. Whatever; in a few hours she’d realize the error of her ways and be consumed by guilt for having snubbed her closest friend. Or she’d tell him to stop whining and then gush about having tea with the Archbishop, one or the other. He’d cross that bridge when he got to it. 

Standing from the pew and stretching, Jorah noticed that while the whole crowd was starting to file out, the quiet blonde girl whose name he wasn’t entirely sure on looked like she had no intention of getting up. Crap, he was House Leader, he should know her name… she was from that disgraced House Ordelia, was it… Isadora? Isolde! Yes, Isolde, that was it. The one who went up against that giant in Luin with nothing but her fists. Jorah was surprised to find she looked a little rattled; she seemed mousy, sure, but this was a girl who ran up to punch a giant without hesitating – it seemed odd for a few kidnappers to give her pause. 

[color=FFAB66]“Not nervous, are you?”[/color] Jorah decided to ask, sitting back down next to the girl. As he did so, he realized that his confusion was at least partly correct. She still wore that blank stare, but now that he could single out her aura, he didn’t feel much fear. Just a sort of… tired dejectedness, maybe. She was very subdued, but at least she wasn’t [i]afraid.[/i]

Jorah leaned back in the pew, satisfied with his evaluation. Suddenly he felt a little bad for misjudging her as a shrinking violet. [color=FFAB66]“Yeah, curfew’s no big deal anyway. But if you’re ever trying to get around it and want some company, I’m pretty experienced in that area.”[/color] 

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