He sits there staring blankly at the carriage wall. All around him it is dark, no light can enter this darkness nor lighten his mood. It has been months since they left Belgrade and not once, not once has Reynold slept. Not once has he allowed Marcel to change his clothes nor wash the road dust from his face. Reynold has spoken little despite the attempts by Marcel and Lucia to engage him in conversation.
It has been months, but now and finally they are here-- York, Reynold's home city. The horses' hooves clop against the cobblestones as they pull into the courtyard and into a small space within the castle. The carriage jars to a stop and Reynold does not wait for Marcel to open the door, but yanks it open, himself.
The castle door opens and a tall man with short cropped black hair stands there, looking groggy, his eyes a bit red from being woken at such an hour. He smiles the moment Reynold steps from the carriage and walks towards him, arms open laughing.
"Well well, the exceptional son returns!" he says embracing Reynold, fatherly and laughing. He breaks the embrace and puts his hands on Reynold's shoulders. He notices the look on Reynold's face, and now truly sees his road-weary appearence. He furrows his brow.
"Reynold, what is the matter?" Ivan says looking at him.
Reynold opens his mouth to say something...anything...and his facade breaks. The tears come like rain down his cheeks and he sobs as he bows his head into his hand. Ivan puts an arm around him and leads him into the castle, looking back at his companions.
Marcel has just helped Lucia down from the carriage, and Veni and the ghouls are in the process of handing over the horses and carriage to Ivan's horsemen when they all freeze, staring at their Lord Reynold as he bows his head and weeps. They stare in stunned silence for a moment-- no one speaks...no one breathes. After months of stubborn silence that they passed off as anger or inner-turmoil, seeing their lord break down this way is very unnerving.
Then the moment passes, and Veni and his ghouls turn hastily to resume their conversation with the horsemen, and Marcel puts his arm around Lucia and leads her quickly into the castle behind Ivan as more of Ivan's men begin unloading the various trunks and chests from the carriage. Marcel bows his head quickly to Ivan, and then gives him a long, sad look that communicates that he can explain everything once they're inside, if Reynold isn't able to speak.
Ivan leads Reynold to a large room with a roaring fire burning, lighting the room with an orange glow. He helps him to a chair and pours some blood into two glasses and hands one to Reynold. He closes the door and sits down in a chair opposite Reynold.
"What is it, Reynold? You look as if you have not slept or bathed for months."
Reynold takes the glass and downs it in one gulp. He sets it shakily upon the side table and puts his face in his hands and rubs the fatigue from his face.
"I have not," he says, his voice low. "I will not rest, I will have her back."
Ivan's face gets a quizzical frown to it and he cocks his head. He leans forward.
"Took who, Reynold who did they take?" he asks.
"Madara, her name is Madara and they took her," he says bringing his eyes just above his hands looking at Ivan meaningfully. Ivan shakes his head.
"You need rest, Reynold. You can tell me when you awaken," Ivan says standing.
Reynold stands and takes Ivan's arm tightly and looks at him pleadingly.
"Menthu-- do you know a demon named Menthu? You must tell me!" he says.
Ivan looks down at Reynold's hand then back to Reynold.
"You're half-mad, my son," he moves quickly, putting his hand upon Reynold's forehead, "Sleep..."
Reynold staggers, putting his other hand to his head. His grip upon Ivan grows stronger.
"Marcel...get my carriage..." Reynold's world goes black. Ivan watches his childe fall to the ground limp. He picks up the motionless form and carries him upstairs. Finding an empty room, he lays him upon the bed and pulls off his boots. Ivan walks back downstairs and opens the door.
"Which one of you is Marcel?"
Marcel steps forward quickly, and goes down on one knee before Ivan, bowing his head. "I am Marcel, my lord. How may I serve you?"
Ivan nods to him and motions towards the room. He turns and walks in and gestures at the chair. "Please Marcel, close the door and sit. Reynold mentioned your name, so I assume he trusts you. Now if you would please enlighten me as to what has happened? Who is this Madara, and who has taken her?"
Marcel follows Ivan into the room, and then sits in the chair offered to him. "My lord, that will take a bit of time to explain, if I may have that luxery?" When Ivan nods, Marcel continues.
"While my Lord Reynold was prince of Belgrade, Madara Voislova was his Scourge, and also one of his primogen. She would later become agknowledged by Lord Jurgen as Lord Reynold's Childe and the Ventrue Primogen, but I will allow my Lord to explain that further." Marcel takes a breath. "I recently learned that my Lord has been in love with Madara for nearly 25 years, and she had fallen in love with him, as well. They were finally able to tell each other so only a few months ago-- the day before we fled Belgrade. They were only allowed 1 night together before..." Marcel closes his eyes, "...before they were ripped apart by a terrible tragedy." Marcel pauses for a moment before continuing.
"Madara's previous lover-- my Lord's advisor Amalia-- had sold her soul to a powerful demon called Menthu...the likes of which none of us had ever seen nor heard of before. Menthu has a servant named Katerina-" Marcel twists his mouth around her name as if trying to chew and spit it out, "-who tricked and manipulated many a man and woman of our kingdom for years, including-- I am sorry to say-- my Lord Reynold, as well as Amalia. When Madara learned that Amalia had been hiding all of this from her...hiding the fact that Amalia had also slept with the vile Katerina...Madara finally left Amalia and was free to give her heart to Reynold. But Katerina and Amalia came, bringing with them the demon Menthu. Before my Lord was knocked unconscious by the demon, he saw the three take Madara back to wherever the demon came from, and heard Katerina ask Menthu to keep Madara alive...to be tortured." Marcel quickly brings out his hanky and holds it to his eyes as he begins to cry. "Never a heart more innocent or true, my lord..." he cries into his hanky for a moment, and then quickly dabs at his eyes.
"Please forgive me, my lord. I was her ghoul for over 20 years, and have now passed into my Lord Reynold's care. Her childe, Veni, has come with us with two of his ghouls, as well as Lord Reynold's own childe Lucia Balan."
Ivan sits back and absorbs all that Marcel has told him. He steeples his fingers to his lips and then points his hands at Marcel.
"By all that is holy, if I know Reynold he will scour the earth for her. This is dastardly, Marcel.
Absolute evil, this Amalia and Katerina." Ivan rises and begins to pace, much like Reynold. He turns to Marcel after a moment.
"That is his plan, isn't it? He came here hoping I would know of this Menthu, isn't it?"
Marcel nods his head quickly, a hopeful look in his eye. "It is, my lord. And I must add that I have failed miserably. I apologize profusely for my Lord's appearance! I told him before we left that I would make sure that his person was always well-groomed and well-dressed...that I would see to it that he was taking care of himself...but, as you can see, I was not able to do that. He has not slept a wink since we left, and he would not let me near him with comb, nor brush, nor washing-rag. I should have been more forceful, my lord, but he is a powerful man, and I am but a weak servant." Marcel bows his head shamefully before Ivan.
Ivan looks at the ghoul who has so faithfully turned himself over to his own childe once he saw him in need. He smiles and nods.
"Yes he can be stubborn, but I am sure that you tried your best, good man. Come-- let us get your things and I will give you a room nearest Reynold's. I have made sure he will sleep." he says as he walks towards the door. The two of them exit and watch as the men begin to unpack the carriage. One of the trunks slips and crashes to the ground, breaking. Madara's armor spills from it, and one of the men barks an order to the two clumsy manservants. They begin to pick it up when Ivan stops them. He picks up the breastplate and looks it over.
"Why this is the armor I gave Reynold when I made him my scourge! It has been refitted, of course, and the insignia is a bit different, but it is the same."
Marcel looks at Ivan in surprise. "My Lord Reynold's armor?!" Marcel is speechless for a long moment, and then brings the hanky up to his eye again. "It is all so sad...so tragic!" He pauses for a moment to compose himself. "It is now my Lady Madara's armor, Prince Ivan. Oh how highly my Lord thought of her-- his own armor! He gave it to her...10 years before...before he told her he loved her..." Marcel wipes at his eyes again, fanning his face with his hand. "I am sorry...such an emotional situation..." Marcel chokes.
After a moment he's able to speak again. "That insignia is Madara's-- her color is violet, Prince Ivan. My Lord Reynold must have had it changed when the breastplate was re-fitted." Marcel quickly dabs at his eyes again, worriedly watching the men scrambling with the armor, making sure that they're being careful with this treasure.
Ivan nods. Looking over the breastplate, he glances at Marcel.
"He must have truly loved her. This is the finest armor I have ever seen made, Marcel. He must have wanted nothing to happen to her. Marcel, I have a plan. We will take this armor into town and have it refitted for Reynold. He will need it on this quest, don't you think?" he asks. He spies Madara's sword. He picks it up and looks at it.
"This is a Toledo blade, very well crafted. Is this Reynold's?"
Marcel gives a weak smile. "That is Madara's sword-- my Lord gave it to her around 20 years ago, when she was first made his Scourge." Marcel gives a tender laugh. "I suppose it must have been his, as well.
Marcel thinks for a moment. "Your plan to alter the armor to fit my Lord Reynold is a wise and kind gesture-- I only hope that our travels do not bring us the kind of adventure that would warrent its need. Also..." Marcel leans a little closer to Ivan and lowers his voice. "Lord Reynold is VERY protective about anything belonging to Lady Madara, so I will leave it to your better judgement whether it should be altered." Marcel smiles a conspiratorial smile. "Your majesty is very persuasive, so I am sure that he could be made to see reason."
Ivan smiles, "Oh yes, I will make sure he sees the reason of it. It is almost nightfall-- I shall give you Reynold's measurements tomorrow and you will take this into the blacksmith with my specifications. He will know who you are and who you speak for," he heads into the castle.
"Now come Marcel, if you would. I need you to clean up Reynold. I shall send one of my servants with you to help. Do not trouble yourself with waking him up. I made sure he will sleep for quite some time."
Marcel smiles and bows his head. "I would be overjoyed to fulfill both orders, Prince Ivan!" Marcel turns and hurries over to the men starting to carry Reynold's trunk into the castle, lifting his hand. "You there-- wait!" The men stop and look back at Marcel. "That trunk is going to the same place we are, if you would accompany us?" The men nod and wait, and Marcel turns back to Ivan. "We are ready, my lord."
Ivan turns and leads them past a few rooms. He stops one of the servants and motions for them to follow. Walking up the stairs, he finally stops at a large oak door.
"He is asleep here. There is an adjacent room you may stay in, Marcel. I will go downstairs and acquaint myself with the others." He turns to the servant.
"Help him in any way he may ask." Ivan bows his head and heads downstairs to see to Veni and Lucia.
Marcel directs the men where to set the chest, and then dismisses them. He waves for the servant to follow him, and walks over-- taking a keyring from one of his pockets-- and unlocks the chest. He opens it, and begins taking out a fresh change of comfortable clothing and Reynold's case of toiletries, handing everything to the servant intently. Then he motions for the servant to follow him again, and the two approach the sleeping Reynold. Marcel smiles. "At last, my Prince-" he whispers, "- your regal interior will have an exterior to match!"
Ivan walks down the stairs and joins the other two Cainites. He bows and motions for them to sit. He looks to Veni.
"You are Veni, and you, of course, must be Lucia. I am Ivan and welcome to my home," he says.
Veni nods gruffly, and Lucia smiles, bringing her hands together, looking at the plush surroundings.
"This is such a wonderful home! Truly you have the finest of tastes! Where did you get these tapestries?" she asks. Veni rolls his eyes and throws Ivan an apologetic look.
Ivan looks at the tapestries and then back to Lucia. He smiles kindly.
"I bought them in Arabia while Reynold and I were travelling."
Meanwhile back in Reynold's room...
Marcel and the servant have finished dressing Reynold, and the servant waits with his arms out as Marcel throws each article of dirty clothing to him. Then the servant-- his arms full-- hurries out of the room and down to the launderers.
Marcel takes a washing-rag and dips it into a nearby basin of fresh water, then turns and begins removing the last of the sweat and dirt from Reynold's face and neck.
Reynold begins to move around, his arms moving and his fists clenching. His head moves from side to side.
"Madara...no......don't go! Don't..."
Somewhere in Reynold's dream...
Reynold sees the scene again, Madara in the grip of that...that thing as Amalia watches, her face contorted in rapture. Katerina with her haughty gesture...that look upon her face as she glances at Reynold. He holds the sword up and rushes at them, swinging with all his might...to no avail as the sword passes through her as if she were but a spectre.
Finally the scene changes. His room is now orderly and the door is no longer shattered. He finds himself standing in front of his fireplace. He hears footsteps behind him and he turns, his face a mask of shock.
"Madara?"
Madara walks tentatively into the Prince's chambers, and when he turns and she sees that it's him, she rushes forward into his arms-- crushing him against her in a tight embrace. "Oh my Reynold..." she murmurs against his neck. "They have taken my body, but my heart will always be here with yours! You see? You have the best of me!" She holds him tightly, and he can feel her fingers clenching his hair and her tears wet his neck.
Reynold quickly gets over his initial shock and hold her tight to him, nearly lifting her off the floor. His fingers tangle into her hair.
"Madara! My Madara! Where are you? Where do I go?"
Madara pulls her face back, shaking her head sadly. "I wish I knew so that I could tell you, and you could swiftly find me and take me out of that place! I do not know, my love...it is someplace...not on this earth...where he and his whores dwell...that is all I know..." Madara looks up at him hopefully, her eyes wet and reddened with her tears. She suddenly pulls his face in and kisses him as if afraid that one or the other will suddenly disappear.
Reynold kisses her with a fierceness even he did not know he had. He holds her tightly and breaks the kiss. Amalia stands in his arms smiling.
"What's the matter, lover?" she says with a sly smile. "Am I not pleasing to you?"
Reynold gasps and pushes her away, pulling his sword. Amalia laughs and pulls her sword, as well.
"You have not the strength."
Reynold thrashes in the bed and then lies still. Bloody sweat pours down his face, and tears runs from his eyes.
Marcel looks at Reynold in alarm, and places his hands on Reynold's shoulders to hold him still. When he sees that Reynold has stopped his flailing, he slowly takes his hands away. He takes the cloth, dips it into the water again, wrings it out, and begins dabbing his lord's tears away-- cleaning his face.
Marcel cries quietly as he works. 'My poor Prince...' he thinks, sniffling. 'Now I see why you do not sleep! We must find a way to quiet your dreams...perhaps your Sire may be of assistance...'
He sits by Reynold's side for many minutes, watching him sleep and hoping that there will not be another nightmare. When he thinks that Reynold is finally sleeping peacefully, he carefully stands, smoothes his robes, and walks to the door. He turns one last time to glance at Reynold. "Be at peace, my Lord..." he says quietly, turns, and closes the door behind him-- making his way back downstairs in search of Ivan.
Ivan continues to chat with Lucia about this and that when he notices Marcel walking down the stairs with a concerned look on his face. He excuses himself and meets him on the stairs.
"Is there something wrong, Marcel?"
"My Lord Reynold is cleaned up, but he is suffering from violent nightmares that cause him to cry and thrash about. I think this is why he did not sleep." Marcel says in quiet tones. "Is there anything you can do for him, my lord? If this continues every night, he may never be rested enough to gain the strength back that he will need." Marcel holds his hands together-- the blood-stained hanky hanging down between them.
Ivan nods and pauses a moment.
"I will attend him, Marcel. Why don't you get some rest. I will stay and watch over him." Ivan turns to a servant and asks him to show Veni and Lucia to their rooms. Turning back to Marcel, he bows his head.
"I will see what I can do..."
Ivan climbs the stairs, leaving Marcel to his thoughts.
Reynold awakens some time later to find Marcel sitting next to the bed, a look of concern upon his face, and Ivan sitting at the foot of the bed nodding. He looks to them both and rubs the sleep from his eyes.
"What happened? How did I get in this room?"
Ivan smiles and pats his leg.
"You have been here a week now, Reynold. You've been asleep the entire time. Don't you remember?"
Reynold looks at him, confused. He tries to sit up, but his head is spinning and so he lays back down.
"A week?"
Marcel smiles. "A week, indeed, my Lord! I hope most of that was restful, restorative sleep-- how do you feel?" Marcel looks at Reynold hopefully.
Reynold looks over to Marcel and nods, "Better, thank you Marcel," he says. Ivan stands and walks over to Marcel.
"If you could give us a few moments," he whispers. Marcel nods and excuses himself. Ivan sits down and leans forward.
"Marcel was kind enough to tell me what happened. I have been researching, and I have not found anything on this Menthu demon. You are sure that is the name they called it?"
Reynold nods and closes his eyes, "I will never forget that name. 'Menthu'...it is burned upon my brain like a brand, Ivan."
Ivan nods and leans back, steepling his fingers.
"Hmm, perhaps the Cappadocians or Tremere would know of this creature. Have you spoken with them?"
"No, I came here first."
"Good, you were almost delusional when you arrived. Reynold, if you wish to find this girl, you must take better care of yourself. That ghoul Marcel seems to think you will be driven mad if you continue the way you were and I agree. He seems to be very loyal to you and a good manservant. Listen to him, understand?"
Reynold nods, "Yes, Ivan. I don't know..."
"I do know, Reynold. You are driven to find this Madara. Good. I believe, from the way you say her name in your sleep and the way Marcel speaks of her, that she deserves to be rescued. But if you drive yourself mad, you will be of no use to her." Ivan says forcefully. Reynold nods and sits up weakly.
"Amalia is a Cappadocian, do you think they will help me?"
"She is also in league with a demon, I am sure they will," he says standing. "Now get some rest, you will feel better tomorrow night."
Reynold starts to protest when Ivan glances at him, and Reynold nods and lays back down. Ivan turns on his heel and walks out the door. He closes it softly and begins to look for Marcel.
Marcel is standing in his room with the door open, holding a beautiful diamond and pearl necklace and staring at it without seeming to see it. The area just under his eyes is wet with tears, and his face has a look of deep sadness on it.
Ivan spots Marcel and strides over.
"Ah there you are," he stops in midsentence and sees the necklace.
"That was hers wasn't it? Well anyway, come! The armor is ready and I wish you to see it."
Marcel turns his head slowly to face Ivan and gives a nod. He walks back to his trunk, places it inside, and locks the trunk. Then he walks back over to join Ivan. "My lord...do you believe it is possible to find and rescue Lady Madara, based on everything you have heard? I have never dealt with demons before, and I wanted to hear the opinion of a cool-headed, rational man." Marcel looks steadily at Ivan. "Can this quest succeed??"
Ivan leads Marcel out into the hall. He walks next to Marcel and gives him a sideways glance. He rubs his chin and smiles at him.
"I do not know of this demon or where he has taken your mistress. What I do know is the will of my childe. Reynold has the heart of a lion. He will find a way no matter the cost," he stops at one of the doors and turns to Marcel.
"I want you to see this," he says as he opens the door.
The room is filled with candles and in the middle of it is Madara's armor. It has been refitted for a man and the breastplate is different. The crest shows only the face of a white roaring lion in a field of blue. One red tear is sliding from its eye.
Marcel hurries forward, his eyes darting across the armor and taking in the new breastplate. He reaches the armor and runs his hand across the new insignia. "This is...perfect, my lord! Your men are very skilled-- I believe Lord Reynold will be pleased."
Marcel continues looking at the armor for a moment, and then turns to Ivan. "I believe in my Lord with all my heart, mind, and body. Whether or not this mission would seem impossible, my Lord will MAKE it possible. We will create our own possibilities, and he will change reality, if needs be. This is the revelation that I gained while listening to you speak your words of confidence in him, and I thank you Prince Ivan." Marcel bows deeply before Ivan.
Ivan smiles, "Now you understand." He walks around to the other side of the armor, facing Marcel.
"When Reynold was my scourge, he was chasing down this particular cainite who had stolen something of mine. He chased him all the way into Sweden and brought him back. One of the Toreador were so impressed, he wrote a ballad for him and called him 'Reynold the Lion.'" Ivan chuckles.
"Since then I have always called him the White Lion, see?" he points to a painting hanging on the far wall. It shows a prtrait of Reynold's face in reposte and next to it, almost in the background, a lion roaring.
Marcel takes a few steps forward, inspecting the painting, and then nodding. "It is a very good likeness! I am impressed-- an English artist did this, did you say?" Marcel says, looking at Ivan in surprise, and then his face reddens. "I am sorry, my lord! I did not mean to insult your country, I have just always been of the opinion that the French, Dutch, and Italian painters were the masters. But now-- looking at this painting-- I see that I have not been exposed to enough of the English talent!" Marcel quickly corrects himself, looking back at the painting.
Ivan nods and leads Marcel out of the room. he closes and locks the door.
"Tomorrow we shall show Reynold the armor. Now you must promise me, Marcel that you will take care of his appearence and that armor. Do not let him become so driven that he forgets to take care of himself. You will do this for me yes?"
Marcel does his most deep and polished bow with a flourish-- his face lighting up. "I will most-enthusiastically take up this charge, my lord! There is no more capable servant than I to do this calling!" Marcel leans in a bit. "If I may ask for one tiny favor, my lord? If you would...tell Lord Reynold that this charge was given to me by yourself, it would give me a little weight to throw around if he becomes...obstinate? If it pleases you, Prince Ivan." Marcel bows again.
Ivan chuckles and nods. "Yes, of course." he says.
Reynold awakens the next night. Feeling refreshed, he stands and begins to dress. His thoughts wander to the Tremere and if they will help him.
He finishes dressing and wanders out the door. He closes it and notices the door down the hall is open. Candle light streams from the room. He walks down the hall and pushes the door open. His eyes widen as he gazes upon the armor he gave to Madara. Walking over to it slowly, he puts his hand to his mouth, unsure of what Ivan was doing, refitting his armor like such.
"It is a fitting symbol, isn't it?" Ivan asks from behind him. Reynold doesn't turn, instead he runs his fingers over the crest, nodding.
"Wear it always, it is my gift to you once again, my childe. The finest armor, for your quest."
Reynold looks over his shoulder, "I don't know what to say."
"'Thank you' would be appropriate."
"Thank you, my Prince," he says still gazing at the armor. Ivan walks to the door and closes it. "Let me help you on with it," he says.
Reynold-- with Ivan's help-- finally finishes all the buckles and straps. He looks down at himself and nods.
"It fits better than ever."
"Good," Ivan says wandering over to Madara's sword. He picks it up and hands it to Reynold. Reynold takes it and straps the sheath to his back, sliding the sword into the sheath.
"There, now you truly look like a knight upon the most righteous of quests. Come, let us show the others."
The two of them head down the stairs, into the hall. Veni, Marcel, and Lucia all sit by the fireplace talking quietly.
When the two princes enter, the three Cainites quickly rise. Veni looks at Reynold, notices that he's wearing Madara's armor-- adjusted to fit him and with a new crest-- and quickly goes down on one knee before him, sliding his axe from its holder, and planting the butt of the axe on the ground before him, bowing his head. "My...my Prince. My axe is yours to command..." he murmurs.
Marcel-- a surge of pride and reverence shooting through him-- gives Reynold a proud and respectful smile, holding his head high, and then he, too, goes down on one knee and bows his head. "I live every day of my life to serve you, my Prince."
Lucia's eyes widen, and she cannot take her eyes from the armor. Reynold turns and whipsers something to Ivan, who nods. Looking back at them, Reynold motions for them to stand.
"Veni, Marcel, let us prepare to be off, Madara is waiting for us." He says as he watches them stand. He turns to Lucia.
"Lucia, you will stay here with Ivan. He will teach you the ways of the Ventrue better than I."
Lucia looks at him with shock, "But, my Prince I wanted to come. I want to help find Madara," she says pleadingly. Reynold shakes his head.
"Lucia, I have already dragged you into this farther than I should have. Stay with Ivan, learn from him. I'll be back to collect you."
Lucia nods and puts a hankerchief to her face as she feels a tear slip from her eye. Ivan smiles and takes her by the shoulders.
"I would be honored to teach you, Lucia. Please keep this old Cainite company." Lucia nods and turns back to Reynold.
"Good luck, my prince." she says softly.
Reynold nods and embraces her. She breaks the embrace after a moment and walks upstairs.
"Marcel, pack our things," he says motioning to Marcel.
Marcel bows his head. "Of course, my Lord." Then he turns to Veni. "If you will get the dogs, horses, and carriage ready, dear Veni?" Veni nods, and leaves the room to find his ghouls and begin saddling up the horses and hitching the carriage.
Marcel walks briskly from the room, and-- now comfortable friends with some of Ivan's servants-- motions to them to follow him as he passes them. The entourage continues on to Reynold and Marcel's rooms, and within a half-hour they return carrying the trunks and chests.
Marcel approaches Reynold and leans in close, whispering, "I understand why you chose not to bring Lucia, my Lord. She can be...desturbingly reminiscent of our Lady at times, can she not?" Then Marcel leans back up and motions to a new chest that two of the servants are carrying, waiting patiently. "This new chest is a gift from Prince Ivan to place your armor within when you are not wearing it. Will my Lord require its use at this time?"
Reynold nods at Marcel's assesment of Lucia. 'Yes, perhaps there were some bits of Madara I did not exorcise when I changed her back,' he thinks.
"No, Marcel. I think I shall wear this-- you never know what dangers may lurk outside the city. Come Marcel, let us seek the Tremere," he says as they head outside. Reynold checks Nanesti's straps and saddlebags while the servants pack the carriage. When they are done, he nods at Veni and Marcel.
"Come, let us seek these Tremere and pray they have some knowledge of Menthu..." Reynold clicks his tongue and Nanesti kicks up and begins to race off into the city towards parts unknown.
