Lord Pink listens, quietly, as Elise recounts the events of her life since becoming an Executor. She spares few details, describing the events in the Golden Peninsula: the thieving children, one who stole her sword, and another child whose crimes cost her a hand. The fight with the Abaddonian mohra, that made the apprehension of the fugitives – who spent their lives in detouring and slaughtering the herd of mohra – so anti-climactic. Her hesitation to kill Rinaldo the Blade before an audience, which allowed him to escape her then, even if she and Kaalaas were able to apprehend him later. Her decision not to be "squeamish" again, leading to the death of a bar patron in the Himar, for his insolence and refusal to answer to her questions. But she captured her quarry there easily after that.

She relates the near-constant needling from Kaalaas, and touches briefly on her growing alienation from her sister, whom Elise fears has been permanently changed, in some way she does not fully understand, by the experience of being abducted. She ends with the execution of Davaryna, and mentions, for completeness, the dismay a Babelite friend expressed over her casual killing. Elise does not mention Cyprian by name, out of respect for his secrets – and, perhaps, a little of her own.

Occasionally, Lord Pink will interject a question into her narrative, for clarification on some point or other, but for the most part, he withholds comment or judgement, only listening. When she at last winds down, the room is silent for a few moments. After a moment, he gives a small smile. "Do you know, I have thought myself much altered by my quest? I see I am not the only one who has been changed by time. You have told me much that you have done, Lady de Bellefeuille. But … I do not know quite how to ask this. It does not seem proper. But I will persevere. I need to know where you feel that your shame lies, my lady; what you have done that you think was wrong."

"Indeed," is Elise's quiet acknowledgement of the question. Her tone solemn and thoughtful as she considers the matter with the concentration it is due. She had never really put the matter to herself quite like that: Where do I think that I brought shame upon myself? It has always been others' judgements, or success, that seem to measure my performance. When finally it comes to her, she breathes a sigh and begins to explain.

"I find it, I believe, not in my failures alone. But when I stand my failures beside those actions of which I am most proud of – where they cast the longest shadow, if you will. Do you know it was against the dream apparition Gorphat that I found myself most proud? When I compare that to the … hunting … I have been doing now, that incident at the bar, I can't find any pride. Just service, vengeance, and hate," the lady explains. "I believe that it was on the Siren's Tail it started. My failure to locate my sister at first. But then it was that brush with death that poisoned me. I couldn't stand the thought I had come so close, so very close to failing her. That outcome was too horrible for me. It was then, I think, I lost some of my nerve – and much of my compassion."

Lord Pink sits, his hair pulled back neatly behind his head and tied with a single ribbon. He watches Elise as she speaks, not interrupting her. His ears are lifted and alert, but his face is otherwise neutral, neither condemning, nor approving, nor anything else.

The woman pauses briefly to catch her breath. She continues shortly thereafter forestalling any response. "And to learn that it was my fault that brought that event upon my sister. And now I am cursed of all things, and all those near me supposedly share in it. Can you imagine, Lord Pink, to understand that what you struggled so hard for has reaped only the opposite of that which you sought? I am ashamed to say, m'lord, that I have lost hope in valiant deeds. I am jaded, and I can't quite see what I accomplish. The greater the deed the stronger the backlash. I have done much for my sister and she has never appreciated it – nor should she, given what I have brought upon her. You know, Lord Pink, that for all I have learned that has made me lose hope, I still feel the loss of it. It makes my deeds empty. As for the recusing of persons, I wonder then why I should fight for them. For all I could accomplish they would forget me when a brighter star comes. They would not hesitate to mock me were my secrets revealed. That is my shame, Lord Pink, I have lost my hope as a protector. I have become quite the opposite instead."

The other noble says nothing for a long moment after she finishes. He closes his eyes, masking his expression. "Do you believe the world has shamed you, Lady de Bellefeuille," he says, still carefully neutral, "because it has not given you your due? Is your regret for the lack of regard you have received for your successes?"

"No," says the lady with a shake of her head, "that is not quite it. I wonder, Lord Pink, what are our crusades worth? What do we, the fighters, truly accomplish save for carving a trail of dead? I know that I serve the Temple, and I know that I am as blessed in its eyes as a knight rescuing a wayward citizens as I am butchering a heretic in a bar for an answer. I know that the path of a 'hero' can expect fleeting fame. The very people we save will forget us. And I have spoken of service. I still serve. I suppose it is unrewarding, personally. I took up the sword to protect people, and for all the others I have protected my family has suffered. I wished to be a hero like my father. I see now that heroes are easily forgotten. Even our own nobility seems weak to me. It is difficult to explain what bothers me, Lord Pink, except that I have lost my hope – my way – and yet I continue, here, fighting in the dark."

The lady nods slightly in punctuation to her words. "I wonder if the world needs heroes. If a heavy hand is not better, as it would seem to me that only strength carries us and preserves us. So you see I have lost much of my faith in crusades. Perhaps it is our strength that protects the weak, but at what sacrifice to that which we hold dear? I have come to think these things, and that too is a shame. As much as I may begin to believe their truth I hate their reality. I am becoming a great deal like so many I fought against in the past," she finishes.

Lord Pink stands, shaking his head. "We do what is right because it is right," he says, quietly. "That is what our crusades are worth. In the sight of the First Ones, all deeds are not equal." He stops, pouring himself a cup of tea from the side table. Wordlessly he moves to refill Elise's, looking the question at her rather than speaking it.

The lady hands the man her cup. She watches him silently, having no response to his declaration and finding herself somewhat absorbed in her own thoughts.

He refills it, with a faint clink of china against china. "You say you have lost your way, Lady de Bellefeuille," he says, at length. "Do you truly wish my advice on how to find it again?"

Elise inclines her head to the question. "I do," she answers.

Lord Pink's eyes flicker to her face, as if judging her earnestness. "Then I will give it to you," he says, almost with a sigh. "And may you someday forgive me for it.

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Lady de Bellefeuille. You waste your time wishing for the adulation of people who do not matter, for thanks that you know are ephemeral. You bemoan that heroes are forgotten, and I answer you thus: So what?" A fire lights behind his eyes, his quiet voice rising. "Do you labor for ignorant, error-prone mortals, or do you strive for the First Ones, whose patience, understanding, and goodness is unending? Let the Temple endure. Let justice, loyalty, and faith endure. Let learning and science endure. These are the things that matter. The rest is only temporary.

"You say you have sacrificed much. I will not argue it. But I will tell you: Be ready to sacrifice more. We do what is right because it is right. You do not try to do good so your sister will appreciate you or your estate will grow. If these things happen, fine. If not, remember: that was not your goal." The poodle clenches one fist, speaking emphatically as he goes on. "Your goal is to follow the First Ones. Let them chart your course, be it easy or hard. Do always what is right, whether it reward you with riches or bring you the direst of sorrows. Risk everything, yourself, your family, your possessions, your name, your friends, everything, in the service of Truth, in the service of the First Ones. If you lose all else, keep your faith: in that, you will have more than everything else could ever be worth. In that, you will have the meaning of all our crusades, Lady de Bellefeuille. In faith." His voice drops again, the light in his eyes fading, and he looks into his teacup.

The lady gives her full attention to lord as he gives his advice. Through his whole speech she watches him with an expression that fades from neutral to somewhat chastised, her ears laying back and a frown forming on her face. She regards him for a while after he has concluded his speech, too, as he looks in to his teacup.

Lord Pink takes a sip from his cup, and resumes his seat without adding anything else. When he looks to Elise again, it is with a considering gaze, not a challenging one.

When the lord returns his gaze to her she glances away. "It's easy to forget these things," she says, softly, in a voice like one thinking aloud. "Where to go from here… "

"Where the First Ones guide you, my lady," he answers simply.

"That is a very vague response," replies the woman who smiles faintly.

The male poodle smiles back. "It is, nonetheless, true. My lady, in all this time you spoke of what you had done and how you felt, you did not mention your faith at all. Do you still have it?" he asks sincerely, no trace of accusation in his voice.

"My faith," she repeats sadly, "is much like a golden shekel left unattended in the Bazaar. Until now I had thought it safe. Safe where I had left it unguarded, unattended, and forgotten. I see now that it is gone."

Lord Pink looks away, pain flickering in his eyes. "It is no wonder my lady is lost," he says, softly. He turns to her again. "Find that first, Lady de Bellefeuille," he urges. "Without it, any center you find will always be ephemeral. Find your faith, and hold onto it tightly. Go to the Temple, or your family's shrine, or the tomb of your ancestors. Listen to the First Ones, wherever you may find Them. They will guide you. No one else can."

"I understand." The lady taps a finger to her cup, nodding. "Indeed. I may do just that."

Elise begins to rises, gathering up her cane as she does. "You have been most helpful, m'lord." She smiles. "Though I cannot claim to know the First Ones' path for me I would be willing to say it has at least led me to you." The lady inclines her head and leans over to set her tea down. "I will take no more of your time. Thank you for seeing me, m'lord."

When Elise returns to her manor, she is so deep in thought that she scarcely notices the strange carriage in the driveway, indicating that Katherine has company. Distracted and shaken, she walks past the portraits of her ancestors, towards the staircase to her room, without really processing the conversation she hears drifting out of the formal parlor adjacent to the main hall.

A strange woman's voice is saying, " – realize that you have been through great stresses, my dear. It's fully understandable that you might have … overlooked certain details." She speaks with great delicacy.

"Of course," another woman chimes in. "You know we only wish to protect you, dear Lady Katherine."

Katherine's voice, coming through the closed door, sounds faint, her tone unreadable. "Protect me?"

The first one starts again. "Indeed, protect you. A reputation is a very delicate thing, Lady Katherine, even for such an august house as the de Bellefeuille. You would not want to … sully it, by association with the wrong people."

"And this … Mrs. Kronos." The second woman speaks the name as if it were going to get her tongue dirty. "Are you … quite sure of her?"

"Because we have heard very disturbing things, dear lady Katherine," the first interjects, overriding the other. "I do not know how to tell you this, but I would be remiss – "

The elder de Bellefeuille sister halts in the hallway as if she had suddenly struck a solid wall. And this … Mrs. Kronos. She turns towards to walk quietly towards the origin of the voices. Because we have heard very disturbing things, dear lady Katherine.

"But you're going to tell me, anyway, aren't you, Lady le Guire?" Katherine's voice is rising as Elise approaches the door.

"Now, dear lady," Lady le Guire says, placatingly. "You must think of yourself. This is unpleasant for all of us – "

"For all of us?" Katherine sounds furious as Elise reaches the door. "All of us? Is it really unpleasant for you … Lady le Guire?" Elise gets the impression that her sister was very tempted to use another word there.

Elise stops when she reaches the door. She had not expected Katherine to argue with these women. She had fully been prepared for her to accept every dire report about Leisa these women could fabricate. Instead she finds her sister potentially defending them, and this causes a surge of pride in the elder de Bellefeuille. She decides to leave the matter to Katherine for now and remains content to listen.

Lady le Guire seems to be sputtering on the other side of the door. The other woman – her voice sounds vaguely familiar to Elise, but she cannot place it – says, "Why, my dear, of course we wouldn't wish to distress you – "

"Then stop distressing me," Katherine snaps.

"But – you must understand your position, dear … "

"I understand my position very well, my dears," Katherine almost seems to be snarling. "And it is not my position to listen to a pair of old gossipmongers hurl slanders at my guests."

Lest she be caught eavesdropping Elise backs away from the door and moves to stand in the center of the hall. There she turns to pretend to examine one of the paintings – her great, great grandfather in fact – in case the group gets summarily routed from her sister's presence.

"Gossipmongers – why!" The vaguely familiar speaker sounds apoplectic.

"Lady Katherine!" Lady le Guire says, aghast. "How dare you! Why I never heard – "

"Then it's about time you did," Katherine interrupts, firmly. The door flings open. "I think I have had quite enough of your 'protection' for one day. Good day, my ladies."

"Oh, why Katherine," exclaims Elise in faked surprise as the door swings open. "And Lady le Guire, and Lady … ?" Lady von Sedgewick most likely.

Lady le Guire, and another poodle – not von Sedgewick, Lady von Kelsie, maybe? bustle out of the parlor, huffing, ears bright red. They look startled to see Elise standing there. Von Kelsie hardly pauses, giving a disdainful sniff. With the briefest of nods in acknowledgement of Elise, she raises her nose high in the air and heads straight for the door. Le Guire is barely more civil, offering Elise a curt, "Lady de Bellefeuille," before she hurries to the front door. Armand is graciously holding it open for the pair.

Just before exiting, le Guire twists around to fix Katherine with a basilisk stare. "You will regret this, Lady Katherine," she threatens, baleful.

"I already do," Katherine answers, coldly. "Good day, Lady le Guire." Armand doesn't quite shut the door in the erstwhile visitor's face. But she's only just turned around.

The elder sister gives the departing guests a little wave and a mocking smirk as they are summarily chased from her house. "Well," comments Elise after the two ladies have departed, "glad to see everything is in order. I do hope they weren't bothering you about that insubstantial rumor about Miss Krodos, my dear sister. You would think some would know better."

Katherine's jaw works furiously after the ejection of her former guests. At Elise's words, she glances to her sister. She blinks, rapidly, just staring at Elise. Bringing the back of her hand to her mouth, she bites down on it, choking back a sob, then whirls around and runs back into the parlor.

The elder sister winces. Without pause she hobbles after her sister towards the parlor, swearing silently to herself that she should have kept her muzzle shut. This is not turning out to be as bright a return as she hoped.