Table of Contents: https://www.bungie.net/en/Forums/Post/244705039?page=0&sort=0&showBanned=0&path=1 [b]Chapter 9, Part 1[/b] The remnants of Gheleon’s vanguard came into Silimar’s view just as evening began its approach, but the sight of their haggard forms did little to lighten the weight of dusk. Silimar did not call to them upon their return, as he might under better circumstances, but-in a measure both of respect for those absent and wariness of those not-elected instead to maintain his silence until his allies drew to the camp’s edge. Upon their doing so, Silimar requested Gheleon’s presence and, ensuring that his call had been heard, sidled away from the encampment. Once he felt himself sufficiently distant from the bulk of his and his companion’s hosts, the Iron Lord turned to address his fellow. Gheleon lagged behind Silimar somewhat, and was himself trailed by Felwinter. Silimar paid no heed to the presence of the latter. “What is your intelligence?” Silimar queried, though he had already guessed much. “We lost,” Gheleon stated flatly. “By what measure? Felwinter returns. Is Ikoris not felled?” “No,” the frontiersman began. “We were forced into retreat.” At this, Silimar was silent once more, and his countenance would have darkened visibly, were any about him capable of beholding it through the plates of his helm. “It wasn’t just a retreat,” a voice called from behind Gheleon, low and hollow. “It was a rout. A damned rout.” The voice belonged, of course, to Felwinter, who stood at some distance from his conversing companions, his posture slumped and pain evident in his tone. He seemed drunken with rage. “Did you not challenge Ikoris, as you intended?” Silimar asked in confusion, turning slightly to face the conversation’s most recent contributor. “I did,” Felwinter stated, “But there was no honor in it. That was stolen.” “I take it that the Lord of Ambros is not so honorable as he would have it seem?” “Ikoris did not cheat.” Felwinter answered. “Then who?” his fellow pressed, perplexed. “I have my suspicions,” the scholar began, but was interrupted by an uncharacteristic inquiry on the part of Gheleon. “How are the others?” the frontiersman questioned, his speech too quick, and his tone suggesting too deep an interest. Silimar was for a moment caught off-guard, but eventually answered, an unspoken question in his voice. “I do not know. Timur rides north, to challenge one of the Ambrosians’ lesser hosts, and Perun south. The others remain at the Refuge and the Temple, so far as my knowledge serves me. Radegast was to leave before I, though I doubt his having departed at all. At the time of my parting, he yet awaited Lord Felwinter’s return. I suspect that his watch is kept even now.” Gheleon absorbed this information, most of which he had already possessed, in silence. This time, he allowed himself to formulate a response before speaking. “And us? What’re we to do?” Silimar gazed hard into the black slits of his ally’s visor, though the latter had no way of perceiving this. “We wait, for as long as we can. Our own battle approaches. We’ll need all of the help that we can get.” _______________