Trackers

Illoen landed on the other side of the estate’s wall with only the softest thud, followed quickly by his two equally quiet companions. He stayed crouched, gently pulling off one of his dark gloves to touch the grass. There were traces here for sure, faint, but they were there. He looked at the other two, only their eyes visible through the slits in their masks. Both nodded, they all agreed. The event had happened near here, possibly on the grounds of this very estate.

The trio spent the rest of the night searching the grounds and even part of the manor, spending as much time avoiding guards and other humans as actually investigating. By the end, the conclusion was clear. The pulse that had been felt by those thusly attuned had originated from here, but the source had left. The trail, as far as they could tell, led north. And so that’s where they would go, but not without some reinforcements.

--

Seph's old bones ached in the carriage, he was not meant for this kind of thing anymore. Still, he was even less suited to horseback these days, and the padded bench in his rather luxurious carriage was as good as travel across land was likely to get.

And as much as he disliked it, travel was necessary. For the first time in a long time, the archons would gather. No one knew exactly how many of them there were anymore, but Seph was expecting quite a few. He also expected some disagreement among them. Not all were as strong in their faith and convictions as he, and some would care more about their own power and interests than supporting the heir. His work would be cut out for him.