Corley sat in the secluded bedroom, his pen moving lethargically over the paper of his journal. He had grown weary over the past months, for countless hours of searching for the source of the magic and observing the Order's activity weighed down upon him greatly. He had neither sleep nor wine to soothe his ancient soul; it was easier in the early years, but he couldn't drink from anyone in this fort yet. As if to top it all of, the attempt on Tarmid's life by the lowly farmer vampire had failed, and Tarmid had taken over the workings of Demongate.
Corley heard a light tapping sound against his door, and turned around as it opened. On the other side was Gnora, clutching an enormous book in her two arms.
"Here's yer' fo-lee-oh!" she gasped, setting it down upon the floor.
Corley raised an eyebrow. "I expected quicker delivery," he murmured. Gnora noticed that, unlike most of high-status, his reaction sounded more of ennui than of anger.
"Sorry about that Mister Joyce," she replied, "Anyhow, how are things going with you?"
"Comfortably, though I recently ran into a bit of disappointment."
"Why's that?"
"I made an deal with a contact recently, though unfortunately it fell through. Be it by the lack of experience on his part, or the care on our... rival's part. Anyway, how is Tarmid lately?"
"Tarmid?" said Gnora as she puzzled over this apparent change in subject, "He's doing good, I suppose."
"Very well. Leave me to my work."
As Gnora left the chamber, Corley thought his situation over carefully. So long as Sir Brenzen was training in the barracks, Tarmid was the eyes, ears, and hand of the Order in Demongate. Corley would have to watch his step.
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Topic: Demongate: Wrapping up the Loose Ends. (Read 697945 times)