Too Much Truth

Riverhold Keep - Library


 * Here is a rather large personal library, its shelved walls reaching an arched ceiling two storeys up, supported by massive biinwood beams. An eight-foot tall and ten-foot wide stone fireplace dominates the wall opposite the iron-braced double doors in; above that is mounted a traditional display of the Lomasa shield and crossed swords. Directly before the hearth is a long biinwood desk and a carved chair; two more chairs, admittedly more comfortable, and a long brown chaise face the desk at a short distance.


 * The walls are actually an intricate network of ladders giving access to the impossibly tall biinwood shelves built there; each book is bound in leather and filled with interesting pages. Visible from above is the black Lomasa bull, painstakingly embroidered onto a deep brown rug that covers the majority of the floor space, stretching between the doors and the fireplace.

It happens that the library is in a bit of a state of disarray - there are stacks and piles of books scattered thither and yon, some open and some closed, some crooked and some neat. A certain Milora Lomasa, wearing a plain green velvet housedress in place of her usual silk gown, is sprawled on her stomach on the enormous desk, tomes all around her. The fire is lit to warm the room, which is cold from being largely uninhabited, and to give off light.

The hinges on the reinforced iron double-doors creak noisily, matching the physical disarray of the library with equal dissonance. Syton stands small in the doorway, his arms spread to push the doors open. He steps inside and pulls the doors shut behind him--with more creaking hinges--restoring some of the library's quietude. The young freelander turns back to Milora and smiles, striding over to her smoothly. He doesn't speak, having been announced well enough by the door.

"Do you know that Lucius Nepos came to see me very early this morning? It was perhaps an hour past midnight, and he sat on the edge of my bed and told me very plainly that he wanted me to find people for him to help. Can you imagine?" Milora's voice is half-deadpan; she looks tired and worn and does not remove her eyes from her book.

"He needs you to find him people in need?" Syton seems amused by that thought, though he keeps his humor soft, a sign of respect to the books. He chuckles, eyes sparkling, shaking his head. "Then again, I guess he's used to taking orders..." Casually, he steps up to the edge of the desk, leaning over to peek at Milora's book.

Shaking her head, Milora turns the page in her volume and sighs. "I am the Arbiter. I am supposed to know where there are needy people, and so I do. I do not give Lucius orders, Syton - I take orders from /him/. I have a profound respect for the man." It is a text on the Church of the True Light and its history - full of propaganda, of course. "Make yourself comfortable."

"Hmmm." Syton replies with a nod, acknowledging without agreeing. He takes another glance at the book before moving back to take a seat at one of the more comfortable chairs. "I just find it funny," the young Master Temple says, stretching his legs out, "that he is unable--or unwilling--to find people to help on his own. I never thought they were really that good at hiding?"

Milora furrows her eyebrows, looking up at Syton and closing her book on her finger. "What in the Shades are you on about? He asked me to /help/ him. What is the matter with you?" She looks a little agitated.

Syton gives Milora a questioning look, then turns his attention elsewhere. Equal parts diplomacy and dismissal, he shrugs and says, "It seems funny to me, is all. Must just be my nature." He leans back in his chair and looks up to the cealing. Without looking back to Milora, he softly comments, "Master Taran took the Mark."

"You are acting /very/ strange. But I can see that you are probably not exceptionally fond of Lucius, so I will not press the matter." There's a pause at this last bit of news, and a souring of Milora's features; she hesitates, and then gives a sharp nod. "Good."

"Lucius is a fine enough man, but not the kind I am apt to admire." Syton volunteers this thoughtfully, still looking at the ceiling. He takes a deep breath and, for a moment, quiet and watching the ceiling, he looks exhausted. As his eyes return to Milora, his exhaustion hides behind his perpetually tired eyes and the clearness of his voice. "It's hard to think of Master Taran as being dangerous. The tattoo doesn't look right on him."

Milora shoves the book aside and right herself, sitting cross-legged on the desk and raising an eyebrow at Syton. "The Mark suits every mage, I think," she says simply. "I do not think that Master Taran would use magic to harm. However, I have little patience for Touched who remain Unmarked after this long. "

"Well, he wouldn't harm anyone /on purpose/." Syton shrugs, but also nods in agreement with Milora. A little burst of restlessness hits Syton now, and he squirms for a moment before standing and pacing around to lean against the back of his chair. "I suppose you wouldn't be a very good Arbiter if you didn't care about important things, like the Mark... or a mysterious crystal tower, if those rumors are true about Aegisport."

Nodding, Milora fixes her attention on the moving figure of Syton and 'hmmms' to herself, pressing one of her cheeks with a long finger. "I had meant to see about such a tower after I had spent a night or two at Night's Edge. Norran is at camp at the base of this tower, for the time being. Have you information?"

Syton shakes his head. "I didn't even know if the rumors were true until just now. I suppose if His Grace is there, though, then there must be something worth seeing." He thinks for a moment, looking down at this hands, before shrugging. "I guess I will go take a look at it, too." His thoughtfulness fades and Syton refocuses on Mily. Curiously, he asks, "How are things with Night's Edge?"

Raising an eyebrow, Milora gives a shake of her head. "I suspect that they think I am going to murder the lot of them and drain Celeste's heart for sacrificial purposes. How excellent! -- And, of course, Celeste has decided to seek aid from the various matriarchs and patriarchs. 'Good morning, Your Grace To Whom I Have Never Spoken. Please commit treason for the sake of nothing at all.'" Another sigh, and she bounds from the desk to pace the room.

"Not well, then?" Syton replies dryly. Watching Milora pace about seems to calm Syton. He leans against the back of his chair comfortably, watching the noblewoman for a while before speaking. "I don't want to meddle in your business, Lady Mily, but if you want, I may be able to put Lady Celeste--or at least some of her followers--at ease over all this. Maybe the same words coming from a different mouth would be heard differently?"

"No, Syton. You stay out of this," Milora says firmly, jerking her eyebrows at the man and shaking her head. "You are, I think, one of very few of my friends who has not labelled me cruel and bad for doing this, and for everything else I have done. The last thing I want to do is to put you in an awkward position. At any rate - it is my place to be disliked."

Syton seems a bit surprised by that answer. Unconvinced, he presses on, though in a kind tone. "You are right that this is your responsibility, but that is precisely why I can help you. They do dislike you, and they will not listen to you, and they will not consider anything that you say, at least not fairly, because you are the one to say it." A pause. "As for awkward positions... I would rather have a small hand in this, than to stand back and comfortably watch as you and Lady Celeste rip one another to shreds."

At that moment Milora stops short, pressing her hands to her ears and letting out a blood-curdling yell. It lasts until her lungs are empty, and then she folds her arms in front of her and gives Syton an irritated look. "You don't listen to anything that I say, do you?"

"Shades, Mily!" Her title is lost admist Syton's surprise. He covers his ears and turns away from Milora for the duration of her scream. As the yell passes, he throws his hands down and storms out from behind the chair, approaching her quickly. "Just because I don't agree, that doesn't mean I'm not listening," Syton spits at her rapidly, showing a bit of anger in the wake of her outburst. "I'm trying to help you, for the Light's sake, so things don't get worse than they already are."

She furrows her eyebrows and puts her head forward, shaking it rapidly. "This is not a personal matter. I have told you this. I am operating from the Tribunal; this is my /duty/. I certainly do not intend to do anything remotely violent or malicious, and I am /tired/ of these such assumptions. I am /tired/, Syton." She stops, then, and takes a step away from him, looking as though she's probably already regretting her actions. "I am sorry. I was frustrated - you just can not know what it is to be made out to be a monster."

"It is a personal matter, duty or not," Syton replies softly, calmed a bit by Mily's reply. He stands a few steps back from Milora, speaking with her in the middle of the chamber. The young Freelander scratches his head and turns to look at the books for a moment. "You are allowed to be overwhelmed, Lady Mily. In fact, it is useful, from time to time, to remind us that we need help." A soft breath and a thoughtful pause follows. Earnestly, he continues, "If you believe that you can change the course that you've set upon, and make peace with Lady Celeste--not to like or agree with or respect her, but simply make peace--then I wish you luck. But if you are not certain you can do that, then please, let me help you."

Milora sinks to the floor, looking rather defeated. She looks up at Syton, her face very grave and a little bit pleading: "Why do you think I do not already consider myself at peace with her? You did not believe me when I told you that I wanted the best for her!" She laughs, a joyless little emission similar to a cough, and wraps her arms around herself. "I asked you to trust me then, and you lied to me. Is that right?"

"You seem to think I hold you responsible for all this." Syton replies sternly, folding his arms across his chest with a squeak of leather. "You are not at peace, Lady Mily, whether you desire it or not. And I do believe that you desire it. But you are not at peace because Lady Celeste dislikes you greatly and will fight you violently to protect her chapel... or school..." He waves a dismissive hand, "or whatever in the Void it really is." He exhales softly and continues, less riled, "I trust you to try your best, Lady Mily. I trust that you are good, and that you mean what you say. But I do not trust that this will end well."

Milora seems a little bit comforted by this, casting her eyes to the floor and biting her lower lip in thought. She remains that way for a long time, before an idea seems to strike her; she jerks her head up, giving Syton a peculiar look. "If all that is so, then why are you speaking to /me/ on the matter?"

Syton shrugs to Milora, as though the answer were obvious. "Because you are the Arbiter, my Lady," he replies in a simple, matter-of-fact tone, "and this is official as much as it is personal. I do not want to meddle without your permission."

"Hardly an appropriate position for an avatar of the Tribunal, curled up on the floor cradling herself. I've always preferred standing, it's a lot less depressing," comes a familiar, cultured voice from the direction of Riverhold's hall, the armored figure of a man draped in an amethyst cloak, he point of his regal steel claymore set to the ground as he grips a hand on the pommel. His expression is somewhat nuetral, emerald eyes looking thoughtfully between Temple and Milora. Toward Temple, he tilts his head. "Master Temple, allow me to explain a few things to you. The woman you speak to is no common Baroness. She has been chosen by the Prince of the Blood, Serath Kahar, as an avatar of the Imperial Tribunal in the matters of Light and Shadow. That responsibility is not given lightly," begins Norran, his voice rather confident as a small bit of a grin twitches at the edge of his lips. "Lady Mikin is a previously landless noble who's just acquired some land - the only power she posesses - and is no priest, no Scourge, no longer. Milora's word is law, and if she has the Prince's blessing, Celeste has no power. None. Not even the slightest. Appeals to Dukes and Duchesses will not help her, only the intervention of the Prince or the Emperor's ghost will set aside her decision, and neither will happen. That is the law. If Celeste doesn't like it, she can spend the rest of her days in the Imperial Dungeons."

Norran breathes a deep sigh, shaking his head in some slight disappointment as he takes Retribution up by the ricasso guard, held passively as he walks to approach the two. "I've no wish to sound rude, but frankly, I'm quite sick of freelanders and Viscountesses not knowing their place in the land. You're not included in my talks of freelanders, by the by, Master Temple. I find you exceedingly reasonable, and I'd hold you in about as high regard as Lucius if you weren't so short. But, that's beyond your ability."

Milora rises almost as immediately as Norran begins to speak, shaking the unhappiness from her face and rearranging her hair until she does not look quite so ruffled and helpless. "Well, Norran, there is no need to be quite so ... so blunt," she says quietly, giving Norran an odd, mixed look between reproach and gratitude. "Now you have surely started a fight." She dips her head, passing Syton and seating herself in what was once his chair, and shaking her head. "Syton, please."

Syton turns to the door aburptly, taken off-guard by Norran's arrival. Once his surprise passes, he bows briefly and moves after Milora. Instead of taking a seat, though, the Freelander stands a step back, looking between Milora and Norran. Once he's sure that they're both done, he speaks. "You are right of course, your Grace," he says to Norran, "both about me being short and about Lady Celeste's position. She is my friend, though, so I will defend her whether she is in the right or not." To both, he adds, "I apologize for raising my voice in your home, your Grace, and I'm sorry for raising my voice to you, my Lady."

Milora looks wry, shaking her head and propping her head up on her hand as she looks at Syton. "I do not much care. I flatter myself that I am your friend and you are mine and as such we can speak easily to one another. I should certainly hope that if I were in the wrong, Syton, or at least behaving badly, you would /not/ defend me and instead pester me quite relentlessly until I improved or corrected myself." She can't appear to stay still very long, however, rising and pacing again with wringing wrists. "I prefer you short. If you were a great tall man you would lose all of your elegance and probably a little of your charm - although that would be a mere drop dashed from the bucket. Sweet Light, Norran, sit down! You are making me nervous," she says shakily. "Syton ... please explain yourself. I do not understand you."

Norran shrugs his shoulders, continuing to stride slowly through the library toward Temple and Milora, continuing, "I used to be her friend as well, Master Temple. But, to put it bluntly yet again, she's gone insane. Mad. Atleast, for a noblewoman. She does her best to cling to the power of her family, but ignores all the protocol and rules of Nobility. I believe nobles like Celeste don't belong in nobility, they either belong in Crown's Refuge or they should be rightly placed among freelanders where their views are more appropriate. I believe neither would be seen as punishment or disservice to her, as she would simply fit in with either far better." At Milora's nervous pleading, he frowns, stopping and leaning on his claymore once again. "You really do need to relax, Milora. There's absolutely no reason for your pacing or your worry. I don't see what there is to warrant it."

Syton looks to Norran first, nodding along with him as he speaks. When the Duke is done, Syton simply replies by saying, "Respectfully, your Grace, I disagree." His attention now shifts to Milora and he smiles slightly. "You may be certain, my Lady, that I defend my friends to anyone except themselves. I defend Lady Celeste here, just as I defend you when I am in her company. I give you advice here, just as I give Lady Celeste advice when I am in her company."

"I do not care how you are with Celeste, but never, never, please, defend me to others when I am wrong, or else they themselves may adopt such an opinion." Milora is stoic, looking first to Syton and then past him to Norran. "If I am right, however, please tell me so. I am so easily made uncertain. Norran, Syton has said that he fears something awful will occur between Celeste and I." She looks back to Syton, looking perhaps just a little bit angry. "You also say, however, that you trust me to do my best and not to behave badly if I can help it. That is so, isn't it? Then your concern must be for Celeste's behaviour, and again, I do not see why the bone is thrown to /my/ feet and not hers. Can not she be responsible for her actions? Is not she capable of being reasoned with? -- Of course not. Then /I/ would not defend her, Syton, and /I/ would disregard her as hopeless, as I have done. But you - I admire you for your loyalty in general if not in this specific instance and I will not discourage you from behaving exactly as you please. Do, however, explain your reasoning to me, and your thoughts."

"Disagree all you'd like, Master Temple, but - to put it bluntly /yet/ again - you are not a noble. You could not /possibly/ understand what it means to be a noble, and neither can Celeste. Demands are made of nobility, to wield power without being corrupted is not a simple matter. And nobility are, of course, blamed for everything. Lady Mikin has been allowed to get away with far more than I would have when I was a Viscount, and I find it unacceptable that so many look for excuses for her behavior. She is no noble, only by name and blood. Unless she radically changes her behavior, Crown's Refuge or among other freelanders is where she'll find herself. And I think she'll be far happier there. She can't continue to have it both ways, nobility doesn't hold the freedom she desires just because she wishes it to be so," answers Norran simply to Temple, his grin only wavering somewhat as he sighs again to squeeze his claymore's pommel. "Sometimes, Milora, you allow your resolve to be defeated far too easily. You need to have more faith in your decisions, rather than worrying about what everyone else who /hasn't/ been appointed the Arbiter thinks."

Again, Syton addresses Norran first. He shrugs helplessly to the Duke. "Once more, your Grace," he says in a diplomatic tone, "I must respectfully disagree." The young Freelander looks to Milora and blinks once, tilting his head to the side. "Well, I suppose there are two ways of going about this," he says thoughtfully. One of his hands motions to Norran, "As His Grace said, you may simply give your order as you see fit, then ensure that it is carried out completely. You are the Arbiter, my Lady, and that is in your power." His hand falls back to his side. "Or you can take a more diplomatic approach and attempt a compromise with Lady Celeste and her followers. You know that this is the path that I favor." Syton shakes his head a little. "Lady Celeste's chapel--her term, not mine--has hurt no one. I do not believe that it sews confusion or discontent, because no one really knows about it. True, it may get worse, but as of now... Honestly, my Lady, I don't think this is worth making so many enemies."

"I am going to cite my initial dispute with Celeste. Yes, I was angry, and yes, I said things that should never have been said, and yes, I regret the way in which I executed myself now." Milora's eyes flick only momentarily toward Norran, and she sets a solemn look on Syton. "Please tell me what I have done wrong. Be brutal; leave no small thing aside. Syton, compose this list now, as a favour to me."

Norran can only sigh again, shaking his head as he walks to take a seat along the wall. "Celeste purports to wield a power she doesn't have, and has already fooled three citizens with her ignorance. That alone should be enough to quiet her until she is properly certified to claim this power."

The young Freelander shifts a bit, tugging on his armor, and looks uncomfortably between Norran and Mily. Ultimately, he looks back to Milora and nods slowly. "Very well, my Lady," he says, "if you wish to have my opinion openly, then you shall have it." Syton takes a moment to compose himself, before beginning, "I believe your first mistake was to handle this yourself. You and Lady Celeste had already had a public quarrel, your enmity is well known, and it makes you appear biased against her. You could have chosen any one of a number of intermediaries to act on your behalf." A pause. "Next, you focused the attention of the Tribunal, and therefore the much tavern talk and speculation, on what had otherwise been a virtually unknown venture undertaken by a minor noblewoman." During this pause, Syton flicks a brief look to Norran. "Also, you seem to have levelled all of your power against a minor breach in protocol. Since the True Light handled these matters before, there was no need to adjudicate the formation of churches. Lady Celeste's decision to form her chapel on her own was, at best, an overstepping of her social rank, and not a violation of the law, for none exists." This pause is shorter. "Lastly, I believe that you entered into this too hastily, and with a poor understanding of Lady Celeste, her organization, her goals, and her character." Syton coughs softly and looks down at his boots. "I'm sorry," he mutters.

Milora turns rather stoic, and tilts her head to one side. "I must handle this myself, because I am the Arbiter, whether Celeste dislikes me or not. To your second point, I have spoken about my intentions to no one except you, Norran, and through a brief message to the Viscountess herself. Norran does not tell my secrets; however, I can not answer for you and I certainly can not answer for Celeste. Of course the Tribunal is aware of what I intend to do, heartily support it, and most generally do not communicate information outside of its walls. But, Syton, what is it that I intend to do?" She pauses, and gives her friend a rather hard look. "I will say this clearly, and only once more. If you misunderstand me past this point, it is your own fault. My business at Night's Edge, and my sole business, is to find out what happens there, what its purpose is, and to deal with it accordingly. That is all. You are wrong in that it was previously unnoticed; there are so many delicate matters revolving around the place that it has long come to the attention of legal officials; beyond that, I have heard it spoken of in circles well beyond Celeste's reach. -- As to Celeste herself, I care not. As I said, I have given her up as hopeless."

There's a pause in which her gaze softens. "Syton. I understand that it is difficult to disagree with one's friends; that takes courage. However, it is also a courageous person who can leave a conversation with a changed opinion, that is, when that person is not of a silly and fluctuating mind such as my own and more of such a sound and rational brain as you posess. I think no less of you for telling me these things, and I do agree with you to some extent. However, you have also come into this conversation with a poor understanding of me and my intentions, which you should have endeavored to understand before judging me. Please answer me honestly, while we are in this vein: can you respect my position and my decisions and allow me to carry on without thinking any less of me?" Something around her mouth and nose twitches, but there is no other movement on her part.

Norran decides to let Milora have this round, merely watching carefully as he rests on his claymore's hilt.

"Shades..." Syton mutters, lowering his head, closing his eyes, and pinching the bridge of his nose firmly. He speaks without looking up. "Lady Mily, if you earnestly think that any of my comments was a judgment of you or your goodness as a person, then I do not know how I can ever speak honestly to you again." He looks back up slowly. "You are a good person, Lady Mily. You are good-natured, kind, and thoughtful. You feel passionately and think deeply." He glances over to Norran. "Though we disagree on many things, I am sure that His Grace and I share /these/ beliefs deeply." And Syton's attention shifts back to Milora. "So if I tell you that I think you overlooked something, that you misunderstood something, that you made a mistake, or that you failed... if I able to tell you these things, it is because I believe that you can hear them and still know that I still hold you in such high esteem."

Milora does not smile, but she gives a nod of her head. "Thank you, Syton. My faith in your affection for me will from here be unshaken -- I wanted to know for certain." She gives him a strange look, and moves away to where Norran sits, then resting her hand on the back of his chair. She stoops to hover close to his head for a moment, as though she might say something to him, and then shakes her own head and gazes over towards Temple. "But you are frustrated with me now. Is it because I was concerned for the effect of our differences of mind on our friendship, that is to say, because I did not trust you to 'esteem' me despite thinking opposite of you in some respects, or is there another reason?"

Syton shakes his head slowly, looking at Milora and Norran. "I am frustrated with this whole situation, my Lady," he replies. He waves a hand vaguely and turns to look over towards the door. "It's like the topic itself is Shadow-Touched. Just talking about it puts me in a most unpleasant mood." The Freelander takes a deep breath and falls silent, still looking at the door.

"Yes," Milora interjects, coming forward and placing a hand on Syton's shoulder. "You will probably want to be leaving me now. I can understand that. If Norran will excuse me, I will walk you into the vestibule."

"Sounds I should be returning to the camp. I just came by to see how things were running," notes Norran, stifling a bit of a yawn with a gauntleted hand as he rises from his chair and takes his claymore again by the ricasso, making his way toward the doorway.

"Light keep you, your Grace. I intend to head out that way, soon. Perhaps I will see you there." Syton bows his head to Norran briefly. His blue-gray eyes shift to Milora, then, and he nods slowly. "I would be honored if you would walk me out, my Lady."

The hand on Syton's shoulder tightens; she gives Norran a pointed look, but does not move. "Good bye, Norran. I will see you later; thank you for coming home to see me. I will join you before long."

"I'll be looking forward to it, Milora," chuckles the Duke, humming to himself as he jingles and rattles his way out into the hall.

Syton watches Norran leave thoughtfully. He reaches up to touch Milora's hand lightly after the Duke departs. "I'm sorry," he says softly, "but I doubt that his Grace and I will ever really get along. I think you will have to settle for tense indifference."

As soon as the door is closed, Milora turns to Syton and gives him a rather unhappy look. "He likes you, you know. ... It is useless. But speak freely to me now. Just now, and quickly, before I allow you to leave me." She steps back from him, gesturing with her head to the space between them. "I cannot drop the matter without knowing your true thoughts."

"Has there not been enough truth spoken tonight already?" Syton gives Milora an odd look, but continues straight away. "My true thoughts are this... If you want to find out what is going on at Night's Edge, really, then you are going to need someone else's help to do it. You are disliked greatly there, and they will not be open with you." He points after the door. "I think His Grace wants to see Celeste humiliated and punished, whether she deserves it or not, and will give you advice to those ends. And finally, I think I can help to solve this problem diplomatically."

"You are wrong there," Milora tells the man quietly, shaking her head. "Will you listen to me when I say this? Do not argue with me, and do not question me, because I know him better than you do: Norran would be happy to forget all about Celeste, and forget that she ever existed. He does not condescend to such puerile and feminine pettiness. He will not advise me to harm her; however, he will advise me to do what he thinks is right. With that said, I hereby give you leave to do exactly as you please. I release you from any strings that I have ever held you by. Act as you see most fair, and I will do the same. ... Syton?"

Syton just nods to Milora, obviously restraining himself. His eyes wander for a few moments and he scratches the side of his neck. Once the urge to respond has passed, his attention returns to the noblewoman and he gives her a questioning look. "Yes?"

"I..." Impossible to continue; she shakes her head and then bites her lip. After a moment, she gives him a rather helpless look. "I am sorry."

"Sorry for what?" is Syton's immediate response. "You have nothing to apologize to me for, Lady Mily. And I mean that." Though sincere, he still has a puzzled, curious look to him, as though he were expecting more.

For a split second, she's still; she puts her arms around herself again and stares at him. "And yet I know that you do not regard me in the same way, that you still think me wrong, and that you ache to speak your mind. Well, now I am glad that you don't, because ... because we cannot agree on some matters and they are better left unspoken of. As I said, do as you please, and if good is done by your hand then I shall be grateful. I think that if I asked to embrace you now, you would refuse me."

Something quietly shifts inside Syton and he takes on a cautious air. He nods slowly to Milora, speaking with carefully chosen words. "I think I would refuse you," he agrees, "but not because I dislike you, or because I do not care for you." He hesitates for a moment, then shakes his head. "That's all I can say."

Milora appears to know better than to question him further. "Thank you, she says plainly, otherwise unmoving. "You know your way to the door; then go now, and leave me here, and -" Silence. "Go."

"Light keep you, Lady Mily." Syton replies curtly, and not without a bit of awkwardness. Another moment of hesitation, then he bows and turns sharply to walk out of the library. His pace is slow and measured as he steps out the door, but out in the hallway his pace can be heard increasing, carrying the Freelander away at an ever-faster pace.

''Return to Season 6 (2007)