It takes several hours of effort before the confusion of the night is put to any kind of order. Although in tentative agreement that some third party is at work, the Laosian and Yemenos factions remain wary and distrustful of each other. The main forces keeping violence from erupting between them are Jyskun Iskfia, the Third of Imvar Yskaj, Afentis Pilis, and -- somewhat to everyone's surprise, including her own -- Vetyros Lauryn. Lauryn remains calm, collected, and determined to find an avenue towards peace and to learn the nature of their true adversary.

Archon Ulifi and Kyria Orevo are eventually found. They'd been fleeing back to Laos Enosi; Orevo explains that Ulifi had told her the situation was hopeless because Yemenos reinforcements were coming, and therefore it was their duty to escape in order to warn the tyr. The other Laosians accept this as a reasoned and dutiful response to the circumstances.

Many of the attackers, both the emene who came after the diplomatic party and the fox and human raiders who attacked a farmstead, were slain in the attack. The Laosian convoy was decimated, with almost half of their warriors slain outright, several wounded, and many of the servants slain as well. Archon Tharsi died in the attack, and Afentis Befitha was badly injured and may not survive.

But a few of the attackers were captured, too. They've thus far refused to talk, and the Yemenos have them imprisoned at the moment.

Oubliette
A pit in the floor, perhaps ten feet across, covered by a laquered wooden grate held down by heavy stones. At the bottom are the prisoners, dimly lit by torches from the room above. The room above is part of a guard tower fashioned of white stone, in the older part of Imvar Yskaj. It's dark and smoky inside, even after dawn. The Yemenos would benefit from the smokeless lamps of Laos Enosi.

The Yemenos bring what's left of the diplomatic party here, tht they may see the prisoners for themselves. As soon as Pilis looks into the oubliette, a Laosian voice cries out to her. "By the five gods! Please, kind lady, help us! These barbarians have imprisoned us unjustly! We have done nothing!"

Lauryn follows the other Laosian officers inside, becoming more and more used to consideirng herself a part of them. Once inside, she moves to the edge of the oubliette and stares down at the prisoners with narrowed eyes and an impassive expression, masking her feelings for anything except disapproval. Disapproval, after all, is a safe Laosian emotion to show -- especially in these circumstances. For the moment she foregoes inspecting the prisoners -- she hasn't been Laosian long enough to be of much use with a visual inspection anyway -- and instead review the situation.

When she had first learned of why the envoy was being sent, her feelings towards the Yemenos were dark. She had seen them as near faceless barbarians, rapists, and murderers, deserving of little mercy and no pity. Now that she has seen them, her feelings have shifted to a more merciful stance. She thinks, in a way, they are more people-like than the Laosians, carnal and simple, rather than outright evil. In comparison, the Laosians seem almost priest-like. But that is only part of the situation.

From what Lauryn has observed, it was clear to her even before the was majority agreement that a third party -- perhaps parties -- were pitting Laosian versus Neyemen. She curses her lack of action, but inwardly admits she could do little and retain propriety. At the moment, she is unsure which is more important to the Laosians, and cannot risk losing their support, so she must play the game carefully. The matter of the Laosians is another concern, as well.

It has become apparent to Lauryn Kyria Orevo is a bad ambassador. She lacks empathy with the Yemenos, too quick to take offence and too haugty by far. What's worse, her decision when the camp attacked was to flee -- there are likely far faster, better riders than Kyria Orevo, and having the mission lead run is hardly a display of inspiring Laosian courge and leadership. her dim review of the kyria remains.

All this brings Lauryn back to the matter at hand: someone is out to manipulate her Tyr and their allies in to war. Had she been in charge, she would have allowed the battle to seem to have resulted in the Laosians retreat, as part of a plan to lure out their enemy. Now, their enemy may know their plan is a failure, and may hide away, vanishing -- perhaps forever. One small hope remains before her: the prisoners, if they will talk. Lauryn is sure she can make them speak.

Only the human and vulpine prisoners are being kept in this oubliette; the emene are in a different guard tower. At the outburst from the prisoner, Kyria Orevo steps forward. "What is this?" she demands.

Lauryn's eyes shift to watch Kyria Orevo's actions carefully. She almost thinks it would have been better if the kyria had perished; the woman is ill-fit for this duty and may cause more harm than good. Though she can scarcely believe she finds herself one of the major voices of peace, that she's helping anyone in a way that doesn't involve terrifying someone else, such is the situation and she's glad for the change. Maybe this time, she can make a difference that brings happiness rather than suffering -- if Kyria Orevo doesn't doom them all first.

The Yemenos's fox translator is translating for the Third, and he frowns as he starts to speak. "The man lies," the translator says, "We captured these people as they were sacking a peaceful farm."

"It's not true!" the prisoner shouts, desperately. "Don't believe them! We, uh, we are just merchants. Camped for the nights! They set upon us and stole our goods! You must help us!"

Stepping away from the oubliette, Lauryn makes her way to Archon Skotonys's side and whispers to him. "I do not know how to put this in properly Laosian properiety fashion, so I will just say it and let my words be judged by their service to the Tyr: I fear Kyria Orevo's competence as both a leader and a ambassador. Archon, how do you feel?" Lauryn keeps he eyes on the kyria; her ears tense as she expects the mission leader to cause a disaster at any moment.

Skotonys glances sidelong at Lauryn. "Kyria Orevo is lead diplomat by appointment of the tyr," he answers, simply.

Lauryn inclines her head to this, grimacing. "Yes I am aware, which is why it is a difficult thing to say. This leads me to a question, Archon. Which is more important in the Tyr's eyes, do you believe: propriety or success? If I remain silent and what occured at the camp occurs again, but I maintain the propriety and the Tyr's order, is that more virtous than speaking against, even working outside, that propriety and order to achieve the Tyr's ultimate desire?"

Kyria Orevo is still speaking with the Yemenos and the prisoner. "What proof have you of this? What is your name, man, and what province are you from?"

"I am Rio Ifiro Hilos, of Sotios," the man answers, after a brief hesitation. "Please, gracious lady, do not let the barbarians leave us here to rot! We are innocent."

"They had no goods," the Third says through his translator. "Nothing but armor and weapons. We can show them to you."

The archon is listening to the change as well as to Lauryn, and it takes a moment to respond. "Neither path is the path to virtue," he answers her at last.

Lauryn's ears flicker at that, finding the answer something of a blow. She hadn't expected neither to be correct, and it hurts her slightly to think her grasp on Laosian culture is still so weak she was totally wrong -- she thought she had come farther than that. Frowning more, she asks, "Then what is, Archon? I am trying to do what I can to see this matter resolved successfully, to be more than simply a weapon, but I am unsure how to proceed. Kyria Orevo refused my council because I am strange and foreign, she will not listen to me. There is irony in that: I too am appointed by the Tyr, and neither of us wishes to acknowledge the other's competence."

Before them, the prisoner's protestations of innocence and the questions from the others continue. Pilis asks some questions about Ifiro's family and Sotios. Only Rio Ifiro does much speaking, though there are three other prisoners in there with him. One remains silent, and the other two occasionally cry out to back him up on his insistence that they're innocent.

Archon Skotonys shakes his head. "The path to true virtue can only come through respect of one's place and success in one's mission. You cannot sacrifice the one for the other and expect acclaim for it."

"I see; cryptic. I will think on this, Archon. For now, I should offer my services here, and act as you say," the Gallah whispers back. Stepping forward again, Lauryn moves to join Afentis Pilis, whispering to her instead. "Afentis. Is he the only one that speaks? What is your opinion about their stories and mannerisims?"

At Kyria Orevo's request, the Yemenos bring the armor and weapons they claim the prisoners were armed with. "But this makes no sense," she says on seeing them. "Look, some of these badges are not even of the same house. Nor even the same province -- this is from Notios and this from Sychi!"

The Third nods several times. "Yes, this is one of the reasons we took them for bandits."

Ulifi speaks up. "Kyria, you cannot think to trust the lies of these prodotis over the word of our own people! Surely you see the insult they are trying to add to injury, robbing our people and then claiming to us that they are bandits!"

Pilis starts to answer Lauryn, but hesitates as Ulifi speaks. She drops her voice low, such that Lauryn can barely hear her. "This Rio Ifiro ... hesitates over much. His story is ... strange."

Lauryn has expect as much, and nods. "I am unsurprised, Afentis. Let us try this then, if you would: let us split them up, then ask their stories. This man may be a leader amongst their forces, but their meager soldiery may not have the entirety of the plan, or the same level of cleverness."

Pilis blinks at Lauryn, then nods and moves to their leader. "Kyria, Ria Vetyros suggests that we separate the prisoners to question them. If they are honest, they will all have the same answers," she says quietly.

The Third hesitates at the translation. "You wish us to remove them from the oubliette? We will not release these men. They are dangerous criminals and they will face justice."

The gallah woman glances at Ulifi and almost speaks, but decides it would be ill-advised to bring the trustworthiness of her new patrons in to question when she's trying hard to gain their acceptance. When the Third speaks, she shakes her head and tells him, "I do not wish them released. They will recieve special interogation, seperately." She adds an edge to 'special,' knowing the men are listening.

"In the interests of peace and justice, I would ask a Yemenos appointed by the Third to accompany the interrogators, which will include myself, while the others remain guarded," Lauryn adds.

"You will release them!" Ulifi growls at the Third, "or you will face the wrath of all Laos Enosi!"

"Enough, Archon," Kyria holds up a hand as she interrupts, her voice sharp. "Third, we must question these men if we are to ascertain their intent as well as their guilt. Doing so separately is well-advised. You will oblige us in this."

"Third," Pilis says, "It is best that we separate them now, lest the remainder coordinate their story while we question their leader. Please."

For the sake of speed, the Laos Enosi plan to question the prisoners simultaneously, with one person from the convoy to a prisoner. Orevo, Pilis, Ulifi, and Skotonys each take one to interrogate. They're backed by a guard from the convoy each, and two guards from the Yemenos.

Lauryn asks to be assigned to Kyria Orevo, and the noblewoman allows it. The Yemenos don't really have the facilities for this sort of activity, and they end up taking their prisoner back to the chamber of conversation, of all places.

Chamber of Conversation
A small room on the second floor of the Great Hall. It has a stained glass ceiling and windows standing open all along the north and south walls. The floor is almost covered with plush pillows of buttery-soft undyed leather stuffed with feathers and down.

The kyria orders their prisoner unbound once they arrived. Their Laosian guard cuts his ropes; the Yemenen guard don't look happy about this, but they allow it. "Sit," the kyria tells the prisoner. She kneels awkwardly on one of the cushions, herself. "Tell me your name."

"Rio Wotimus Liso," the man says, rubbing his wrists and looking wary. "You don't believe their story about us, do you?"

The kyria glances at Lauryn. "Why would I take the word of a prodotis over that of an enosi?" she answers, her voice mild. There's something slightly off about her tone, though; different from what Lauryn's used to. "But we are in a difficult position here. Tell me about yourself."

"Nothing much to tell. Just one of the caravan guards," he says. "I don't know nothin' about why they attacked us."

"Trust is earned," Lauryn recites; she thinks her father said that once. To show her difference to the Kyria and to exercise the Archon's advice she takes a seat behind and to the right of the other woman, hoping her comment will be understood as much by the kyria as by the prisoner. Lauryn, for her part, inclines her head to the kyria's words and her glance -- she is well aware of the implications and for her part agrees with them, even if the prodotis is her. For now, however, she allows the kyria to pursue her own investigation, not wanting to interfere and ruin any hope for getting closer to her superior.

The kyria proceeds with a sequence of ordinary questions: where is Wotimus from, who is his family, who is his wife (he doesn't have one). He answers all of those fairly readily. Then she moves on: how did he get hired by the caravan? Where were they going?

On this one, he starts to hesitate, answering with, "I don't know, some Yemenos city, they all sound the same to me."

"I see. What goods was the caravan carrying?" The kyria is taking careful notes.

"I see. You were not a very good guard, to have survived when your charges were cut down. Where did the caravan come from, then?" she asks. He hesitates again, and she presses him. "Surely you know that."

She starts asking about the other survivors: who are they, where are they from, etc. Again, his answers tend towards the vague and uncertain. The kyria pauses after another 'wasn't paying attention' and glances at Lauryn.

Lauryn decides to support the kyria by being the face of emotion to the otherwise neutral Laosian. She raises an eyebrow at one fact, frowns more at another, and so on, making it appear like she may know more than she does and sowing doubt if she can manage it. When the kyria looks her way, she inclines her head respectfully and says, "While enosi are honest, it remains to be seen who holds this man's loyalty. I find his lack of certain answers very suspicious, and surely he must know inconsistencies between his fellows will go badly for them all. He should also be advised mercy will be shown if, for whatever reason. he hides information from us and then choses to reveal it. Certainly, a man such as himself can see the benefit for himself and all Laos, whatever his associations may be. Further, as the first wielder of isityros of the Tyr's court, I feel I must offer their services, should lady kyria chose to use them -- terrible as though that option may be," the gallah says in an even, matter-of-fac

The man's eyes widen at that last, darting a glance towards her. The kyria nods to her, and suppresses what is probably a genuine yawn; it's not as if any of them got much sleep last night. Lauryn feels the temptation to yawn herself. Kyria Orevo tells her, "I hope that will not be necessary. I am sure Rio Wotimus is an honorable man." She looks back to the prisoner. "But he is an honorable man of ... Sychi, was it?"

"Sotios. Not of Notios, where your caravan originated. Nor of Theolisis, where myself and my family are from. We are in service to Tyr Notios, the Ria Vetyros and myself. And you ... are not." She pauses here.

"Yes, I am sure he is," Lauryn agrees. She turns to regard the prisoner, brows raising again at the pause. "Do not let my isityros concern your prisoner, I assure you I have become far more adept in their control since routing the Yemenos invaders against one of our villages -- if you have heard of that."

"We're all enosi!" the man protests, uneasily, after another glance at Lauryn. "Every tyr is pledged to Tyr Titus. We all serve the same goals, in the end. And all against the prodotis."

"We are surely against the prodotis when they provoke our wrath, or if they seek to harm us," the kyria says. "But our goals are not necessarily at odds with those of the Yemenos."

"So you say!" The man spits at the feet of the nearest Yemenos guard. "They attacked us!"

"Sometimes we can become confused in how we impliment these goals; it is no shame. It is only shame to continue without rectification," Lauryn adds. When the man looks at her, she inclines her head. "I, too, an Laosian by decree of Tyr Notios, and have sworn the same pledge."

"So you say," the kyria continues, smoothly. She glances to their convoy guard, and stands to hand her the notes she's been taking. "Take these to Afentis Pilas, and have her let me know if the answers do not match." The guard looks hesitant to leave them with just the Yemenos guards and the prisoner, but the kyria waves her off and she obeys.

The prisoner rubs his wrists again. "You can't believe them over us." He looks at the two women, then glances out one of the room's stained-glass windows. They were all open yesterday, but closed when they came in this morning. The room is starting to get stuffy, which makes Lauryn more aware of how tired she is after the night's interrupted sleep and activity.

Lauryn finds herself inwardly pleased at the kyria's trust in her; as the only 'military' personel present, she alone is responsible for the kyria's safety. The action makes her reconider the kyria yet again -- maybe she was too hard on the woman. She sets her gaze firmly on the prisoner now, deterimined not to fail the kyria and to make a good impression. Despite her exhaustion, she soldiers on as best she can, even digging her nails in to her leg when she begins to fill a little sleepy.

The kyria doesn't answer the prisoner's question. "Who do you work for, Rio Wotimus?"

"You guess?" Kyria Orevo lifts her whiskers over one eye, just like Skotonys sometimes does.

"Yeah, I guess. I didn't really follow his house's politics ... " Wotimus gets to his feet. The Yemenos guards growl and close in on him. "Hey, I just wanna stretch."

It strikes Lauryn that the dismissal was more than a gesture of trust. Now, she suspects the kyria has dismissed the guard because the kyria suspects the same thing she does: that another Laosian power is involved in this. Why the kyria would trust her over the guard is something interesting -- does she not trust her own people with a matter so delicate? is Lauryn, a prodotis more trustworthy because she is somewhat outside Laosian politics? It's a mystery to Lauryn. She resolves to think on it later, and focus on her direct mission now.

"It strikes me a mercenary would have more idea as to where his pay comes from. It is, after all, the prime motivator of hired soldiers," Lauryn remarks. When the man stands, she holds a hand up, "You may stretch, but do not reach for your clothing or near the window." To the Yemenos guards, Lauryn gestures one to the far side of the room, to box the prisoner in and stop any window escapes.

The Yemenos growl again, but at Lauryn's gesture they don't interfere. The kyria looks like she was about to say something else, but she stops. The prisoner laughs at Lauryn, but it's not a happy sound. "What do you know of it, prodotis? When you're a hired sword, you realize sometimes it's best not to ask too many questions." The human stretches his arms high above his head, and shakes out his legs.

Then he bolts for the nearest window, some fifteen feet away. The Yemenos guard yowls and tries to tackle him.

Lauryn doesn't move, not exactly. The air about her begins to stir, and a faint red luminessence grows about her eyes. "Running is futile before the power of isityros," she warns sharply, "look upon me, and relent before it is too late!"

The prisoner doesn't look at her, or relent. The emene grabs him by the torso, but the man twists and momentum pulls him out of the guard's grasp. He wraps his arms over his head as he hits the window with a sound of shattering glass.

Lauryn rises and proceeds to walk, with a delibrate pace, to the shattered window. "It seems we have our answer, lady kyria. Allow me to answer this indignity on your behalf," she says, sounding distracted as she focuses upon her magic. Not needing to deal with multiple persons as is so often the case, Lauryn finds relief in being able to simply focus. The phantom wind about her shifts until her hair whips about her shoulders, as if she were in a gale. Her eyes become pools of malevolent red light, and slowly she lifts a hand to reach for the man she pictures in her mind ...

The Yemenos guards are yowling an alarm and darting for the stairs; the kyria grimaces and follows Lauryn to the window. Miraculously, the erstwhile prisoner appears not only virtually unscathed by the breaking glass and the fall, but by the time Lauryn gets to the window he's on his feet and running. But not far enough to escape Lauryn's isityros.

"That was a remarkable landing," Lauryn whispers, sounding a little strained to the kyria's ears, "it is a shame I must ruin it." Though Lauryn's person swirls with supernatural eddies that alter her appearance and cause her hair to writhe in an unseen wind, her target appears, perhaps surprisingly, unmolested for the show of power. Within the man's mind, however, things are much more different.

At first, the voices are indistinguishable from the howling of wind, but then they grow -- laughing, accusing, screaming voice of the damned that seem to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once. But this is just the beginning, for Lauryn has many nightmares to share, and with only one person to focus on, she need not be so careful in chosing. All around the man ... things ... begin to creep from the shadows, craw from under roofs, climb out of the very air around him, joining the voices and their horror. Eyes without heads that fly on bloody wings, giant syringes that hold an image of the man's own, mutilated, corpse wihin their glass length, and indescribable masses of flesh and death shuffle to surround him.

The man screams, suddenly, for no apparent reason, and shies back from the direction he'd been heading. He pivots to the side and takes a running step that way, but something stops him and he spins away, falling against the road in his sudden effort to avoid that direction. "Five gods! No! Get back! Get away from me!" He scrambles backwards against the ground, then stops and drops his head forward, huddling and sobbing.

Lauryn rests heavily against the broken window ledge, finding the lack of sleep and serious magic use more draining than she anticipated. "We cannot say we did not warm him or offer mercy," she tells the kyria, beside her. "I am glad I got this chance to be of use to you, lady kyria. If I may be so bold to say so, I think we were quite a team."