Dyaebl sat in the river water, trying to scrub off the blood without interacting with stiches Iorveth just gave him. A very poor meeting, with a very nasty sorceress. And then a very lucky fainting at the feet of the commander.
Much like planned, he followed Philippa’s lover to Oxenfurt, rummaged through any physical papers young woman had, and was about to approach her with questions, when he felt the nasty tingling behind his fake eye. That was a simple charm worked.
He backtracked, walked in circles, stood in spots, but managed to pinpoint the spot. A door that wasn’t there. Dyaebl looked up the wall, in search of windows, or anything he could get through really, and spotted her. Philippa herself. She was looking right at him too.
She cast a spell, he jumped out of the way, she screamed at the three patrolling Order of Flaming Rose members, yelling something incoherent, and as Dyaebl turned to new threat – goddamn spear landed in a slash on him. Who slashes with sp