Upstairs in Megren's chambers, the imperious voice of her ladyship the Marquise Evelyne o Wydrioth rings out in Vark's mind.

"Good evening, Vark," she greets the sorcerer, her tone low and quiet, "thank you for your message. Please, be more specific. Are these 'sisters' dead? Captured? There's been no word from you or Sheercleft for almost a month. Any longer and I would have had to commit my own forces to the problem. Nevertheless, if you can deliver control of this fortress to me, then perhaps there is hope for you yet. I require a detailed report on the situation as soon as possible."

“Oh! The Marquise, she responded!” Vark suddenly shouts out to the rest of the Acharnost. “She... she wants a detailed report.” While normally the mage might begin rattling off telepathic message after message, he hesitates as he considers the Marquise’s arcane wards and his own drained stores of power. Instead he asks Jex to use the scrolls of telescription and together with the rest of the party they draft a concise but detailed account of their assault on Morloth.

Dear Lady Evelyne,

Apologies for the delay. We can confirm that all three of the sisters have been slain. We interrupted them as they attempted a ritual which would have transformed them into an avatar of the Morrigan. We have slain the majority of their forces but some likely escaped. Those that surrendered are now held in the keep’s dungeon. The Acharnost is happy to hand over control of Morloth to your forces at your earliest convenience. 

Each message bursts into a puff of arcane smoke as it is sent, and once again the Acharnost are left waiting for a reply.

"In detail, Vark," Lady Evelyne responds via sending a few minutes later. A touch of exasperation or impatience can be heard before her usual veneer of formality. "What's your best estimate of their original numbers? How did you get close to them? What were the specifics of this ritual? How did they die? Do you have their bodies as confirmation? I will come to you in your dreams after midnight to discuss this properly."

“Oh.... kay. My apologies, my... l-lady. It’s a lot to uhm, c-communicate like this. A dream would be easier, thank you.” Vark responds with his own exasperation. “That wasn’t enough detail I guess... she said she’s gonna come to me in my dreams to talk more tonight.”  He explains to the rest of the group. 

"Well... I can write you a report of forces if you want. Probably she wouldn't like that we don't have their decapitated bodies with us, but I can assure you that I broke the neck of one of them before she was engulfed by the portal so... better than nothing. Now, How many of them do we have imprisoned down there?"

The Acharnost set up for the night in the chambers of the Morrigan sisters, where Vark uses the codex to weave a ward of warning in case any bandits or cultists attempt to ambush them while they rest. While the others take turns keeping watch as usual, Vark settles down in one of the beds, eventually falling into a deep sleep.

As promised, shortly after midnight his dreams shift and he finds himself in a grassy grove of tall pines, with a trickling stream running in from one side to pool in the middle. On the far side of the clearing, stands a pale elven woman with neatly-parted black hair tied up behind her head and a long, dark green dress. The Marquise of Wydrioth.

"Well met, Vark," she greets the half-orc, pacing a few steps around the pond towards him.

Vark stays firmly planted in his spot but bows deeply in respect. "W-w-well met, my Lady. S-so uhm... right, the forces," The young hero immediately launches into answering the questions the Marquise had previously asked him. He gives a rough estimate of the numbers of followers as told to him by Thurston followed by a chronological account of their infiltration into Morloth. He attempts to reign in his excitement, but his passion is clear as he tells of the thunderous magics, deadly blades and heroic might with which the Acharnost stormed into the keep. His rapidfire retelling slows as he reaches the part of the story where the party at last came face to face with the sisters. "I'm... I'm not sure what the exact details of the ritual were... we did find their notes though -drafts of sigils and stuff like that- but uhm, well we do know for certain what they were trying to do. See, they had been using the name of the Morrigan but... well they were kinda bluffing. If this ritual had been completed then they actually would have had claim to the name... and the power. They wanted to link themselves... three sisters, the Morrigna, Tiamat... Araushnee, the Raven Queen and... Talona... it seems like all the legends are the same. Uhm..." he shakes his head as he begins to get off topic. "They'd almost completed the ritual when we found them and attacked them. Aiden and I used our magic to try and disrupt the ritual circle they were using, him and Thurston called on Thor... I'm not sure exactly how but I guess we did mess them up enough and their ritual... malfunctioned. They were fused into this awful three headed dragon thing and a portal to the abyss was torn open. They were pulled into it but still hanging on so we finished them and managed to close the portal. That means... we did lose their bodies... body? But the keep is under our control, and we have their stuff, and some prisoners so..." he looks hopefully at the Marquise as if to say Is that enough?

Vark begins to talk and the Marquise takes a seat upon a large rock besides the pond. As she listens to the young sorcerer's tale, Evelyne's expression shifts back and forth between contemplation and amusement. However, when he comes to describe the Acharnost's final showdown against Megren, Sora and Korinn, she sits up and listens more intently. At the mention of the disrupted ritual, the resulting rift to the abyss and the draconic avatar that emerged from it, the Marquise's brow crinkles into a frown.

"I wonder..." she muses. "These 'sisters' have certainly been neutralised - and for that I give you and your friends full credit. There was rather more afoot here than anticipated and you did well in putting an end to it. Nevertheless, it may be prudent to consider them banished, rather than slain. These things have an unpleasant habit of surprising one when it is least convenient. I may have to consult with the duchess on this matter."

A pensive look flits across Lady Evelyne's face for a moment, before she returns her focus to Vark.

"You mentioned a teleportation circle. Could you show me its address?"

“Oh yeah, if they’re still lurking in the Abyss... they’d probably be pretty angry.” Vark says with a grimace. “Uhm, yes I memorized it, here,” he turns and begins to burn the sigils from Morloth’s circle into the ground around him with a little beam of fire.

Lady Evelyne nods as she memorises the sequence.

"You can expect to receive soldiers from my retinue at dawn," she tells Vark. "They will assist in securing the entirety of the fortress and rooting out any remaining cultists that may be stalking its halls."

The Marquise rises and examines the half-orc for a few moments for speaking again.

"You and the Acharnost have made good on your promise to rid Hrona of this menace. Wydrioth march will recognise your claim to Sheercleft. I hear that you have also made an ally of Thane Forgekeeper of Khaz a Grungron - no mean feat for a giantess and an orc. I tell you this, because Baron Reventlow of Cambria does not see things the same way. He has laid claim to Sheercleft in the name of Breanne. His men are likely already on their way north to seize the village."

"Wha.... what?" he asks, clear surprise in his voice. "Who is this Baron guy and-and why does he think he can just lay claim to Sheercleft? He can't do that... can he?" The stressed half-orc runs a hand through his hair as he thinks about what this means. "I don't wanna have to fight him, we already fought to free the town once..."

"Perhaps you did not realise; Sheercleft has always been governed by Breanne," Lady Evelyne explains, "even though, strictly speaking, it lies within the borders of Khazak Ankor. Governor Quinton answered to investors in Quenlan and enforced Breannian law, not Dwarven. Sheercleft is a Breannian exclave, permitted to exist by treaty with the Dwarven High King. In truth, the kings of both Karaz Kadrin and Karaz Varn have claims to sovereignty over your little valley. Cedeing it to Breanne is a political move on behalf of the High King to strengthen ties with a neighbour, while simultaneously avoiding favouring one vassal over another."

The Marquise sighs thoughtfully, before continuing.

"Politically, your neighbours are used to Quenlan control of Sheercleft and will not question them deposing what Baron Reventlow will present as an illegitimate regime that has seized control of the region. He fancies himself a Count, or perhaps even a Marquess, rather than a mere Baron. If he can take Sheercleft by force, then he will. Nevertheless, you've earned the respect of your two closest neighbours, but we all have our masters. Reventlow's is the Duke Gilfaethwy of Quenlan, Thane Forgekeeper answers to Lord Huskarr of Kazad Vlag and I owe my fealty to the Duke and Duchess of Torgovann. Defeat in battle will embarrass Reventlow and buy you time. However, if you wish to avoid an ongoing campaign and for Quenlan to recognise you as the rightful leaders of Sheercleft, then you must engage with them diplomatically."

“Hmmm...” Vark takes all of this in and mulls it over for a few moments, his eyes scanning across the ground as if he is imagining this tangle of connections and claims scrawled out in the dirt. “So, if Sheercleft is really owned by the dwarves, but it has been governed by the humans, and now we’re friends with the elves... do you think the three kingdoms could agree to share it? Especially if...” Vark looks back up now with a serious look in his eyes. “Especially if others try to do what the sisters were attempting. In our travels we’ve learned... of others. Others who might try to follow in the footsteps of the shadow warlords, just like the sisters were. We’re already working to research  more so we can be ready to stop them if they get that far, but that would be a lot easier if we had all the kingdoms working together. Sheercleft could be a part of that.”

Lady Evelyne raises a hand to halt the rapid stream of Vark's newest idea.

"Shadow Warlords? Vark, King Torath has no interest in laying claim to a mining village in the mountains. I don't know what you think that you have uncovered, but nobody has any incentive to pursue such an agreement, let alone broker it between three sovereign nations. If you don't intend to swear allegiance to any one of them, then you'd better have a very good reason for why Duke Gilfaethwy should give up control over such a valuable trade route."

“B-but I...” he begins to protest. “I... I guess you’re right... it was just an idea... Jex and Bründir and Seid would probably be better to figure out what we should do anyway... I just wanna go see Aury.” he adds the last part under his breath after relinquishing with a sigh. “Uhm... th-thank you for the warning, my Lady. Is there anything else?”

The Marquise shakes her head.

"If you discover anything further, keep the Baroness appraised. She'll send me updates and know if and when to involve me directly. Yours and the rest of the Acharnost's efforts are appreciated. Expect my warriors at dawn."

As soon as Lady Evelyne has spoken her final word, Vark's vision begins to swim and the dream melts away, but remains clear in his memory when he wakes.

The moment the dream ends, Vark bolts upright on his bedroll. "Oh my gods, guys-" Vark stops as he suddenly realizes that everyone save Jex is still asleep. The half elf cocks an eyebrow at the excited mage but Vark raises his hands and shake shis head in dismissal. "Ah, sorry, the Marquise told me some stuff... some noble from Cambria is trying to claim Sheercleft, but... well we should all talk about it in the morning. We gotta figure out what to do. Oh, also she said thanks and also that her warriors will be here at dawn to take control of the fortress." Now that he has the pressing news off his chest for the moment at least, Vark eventually finds his way back to sleep. 

With the elven warriors expected promptly at dawn, Brundir has the pleasure of waking everyone up to greet them. As the Acharnost groggily gets ready, Vark informs the team of the political turmoil they were about to find themselves in. "What do you guys think we should do?"

Aiden's frown is deep. "We should probably get back to Sheercleft as soon as possible, at the very least," he says. "Other than that, I don't know...I don't suppose that we know any Breannian royalty that might be able to stake a claim?"

Bründir's face twists and contorts in the short recounting of Sheercleft's endangered position. By the end, he's visibly fuming and pacing across the room, "Damn nobles! First Quentin, now this uppity shit from down the hill. Bugger'em with ev'ry damn mountain an' peak! Maybe then the bastard'll have as many stones in him as he acts like is in his head now. Where's my armour? Dumdrengi! Where ya at?! I'm gettin' on Stonebrow an' not stoppin' till I see home." The dwarf finds his armour and sword, each laid out carefully and close at hand as he'd intended the night prior, and begins hastily strapping in.

"Vark, give th' elves my best. In spite o' myself, I'll say they've been pleasant, almost fun, since we met'em. But I might be halfway back 'fore they see the gates 'ere. I've half a mind t'march into Sheercleft, shout myself to a spot as baron or lord or some such, then stand on th' walls till Lord Softstone comes callin'. When he comes 'round th' bend, he'll see me up there, trousers to my ankles, showin' him th' first stone he can expect t'work if he means t'have my home mines." Bründir accents his tirade with a few...enthusiastic gestures.

As Brundir opens the door to the room in which Val and Jex had been sleeping, Val sits up in the bed abruptly, pulling the thick blanket above her waist, but still leaving her naked chest bare. "Brundir! It's still early, what is it?" She listens intently with widen eyes and a strange purplish-gray flush about her cheeks as he explains. "Yeah, okay. Be right there. Just... tell Jex to give me a few minutes to get clothed." 

As soon as Brundir pulls the door shut behind him, she lets out a heavy sigh and throws the thick blanket off her to reveal the blonde hair of Thurston's head lying stock still near the foot of the bed. "Gods be damned, Thurston Barnaston! If you didn't stop that shit while he was standing right there... Now get your clothes on and be quiet when you go after I'm gone!" She whispers harshly at him, but with a big grin splitting her face.

Valaith listens to the report with a curious look on her face, as if not understanding the issue. "But it is ours now. We claimed it. We saved it. This... Baron Ravenflow... who does he think he is? He did nothing, but hide in his keep like the coward he is. He will send his warriors to face us in battle over something that he has no claim to? We should just kill him." She shrugs as if this answers everything and the situation was just that simple.