Veldas, 21st of Glade, Year 120
It had taken over a week of planning to get to this point, but they were here; prepared. Or as much as they could be. It was going to be a challenge for their lives -- Taelian very well knew that in these secluded forests, he could very well die. But he had always known that, being involved as he was with this ill-fated revolution. Riven, if he remembered his own lost Arlaed, would certainly be sad . . . but this was the price one had to pay for the Black Sigil. Fealty to death.
They had been preparing in a cabin, one they'd rented from a rural authority not associated with the city of Grimholdt. That way, they would not be exposed early by any connection the Joseph's may have had to the landlords of Grimholdt-proper. About thirteen hours ago, Taelian had contracted the Marghozad to join them, allowing his aether to replenish over time as part of his early preparation of the battle. Now, he felt almost fully stocked, with the two black Aldir hounds standing to either side of Rhylor, who they had been instructed to follow.
Taelian had a satchel at his waist, and within it were six silver daggers, all Enkindled save for one, as he could only Enkindle six weapons at a time. Of course, Ard Fuil was holstered at his side, with the Enkindling running perfectly along the indents of the blade, a molten trail searing across where the weapon's blood was meant to accumulate and flow, to be absorbed by the dragonshard at its core. Eleanor and Rhylor were equally ready -- Eleanor was currently utilizing Searing, communing with the specters around them to keep tabs on the location of the approaching party. They had been informing her of their approach, and apparently now they were only minutes away. Once they passed by the cabin, the Ebon Knights would spring from it and begin their assault. Taelian would begin by using wide, sweeping attacks, forcing the Cardinals to distance from one another and effectively herding them into two isolated areas of the forest. He needed to be absolutely perfect -- all of them would have to begin their assault with Emblem, and Taelian would need to force the Cardinals to keep a distance by assailing them with his floating daggers, manipulated by Gallow Warrior.
A single mistake, and they would all die. There was no running from Dranoch if they failed; wavering only solidified one's death. They were faster, highly cunning, and utterly precise.
They could hear movement outside of the cabin, finally. The windows were boarded shut and they were all totally quiet, unmoving; they knew of the Dranoch's superior senses, so they all had to quietly lay against the cabin's wooden furniture, tightly controlling their breathing and staying still so as to prevent any unintended movements. Fortunately, the Cardinals did not seem to notice them, and they continued their banal conversation.
"...of course they gave me a proper deal, but--"
"Yoren, must you always tire the children with your talk of business and trade? Let's talk about Lisa's suitor, Halon. Do you think he'll be willing to become a Dranoch? Have you even gestured towards the idea?"
"Mother," the young woman replied. "I have no interest in Halon. He does have great character, but he comes from a family scarcely a thread above the middle of the road. He..."
The voices began to grow distant. Only seconds now, and their trap would be sprung. The tension was increasing in everyone's chest; the overwhelm of anxiety came and just as quickly receded, consumed by a need, the call to action. All of them knew what needed to be done.
