Arturim crossed his arms behind his back. “My lord, our scout reports they’re sailing north, towards Estarene.”
“Estarene? What business do they have there? Was the Legion on board? Have they detected the ship?” Lord Markex clenched a gauntleted fist while studying the war table.
“Yes, my lord. They’ve reported sighting Gaur on the deck. My men report no indication they’ve been seen.”
“Interesting. What business have they in Estrath?”
“We’re uncertain, my lord. It’s possible they’re seeking refuge in the Republic.” Arturim adjusted some of the troop placements on the war table, his green scales glinting in the prismatic sunlight.
“Refuge? Perhaps.” The Scalelord tapped one claw on the steel table, filling the room with a sharp clicking sound. “What other motives do we have?”
“My lord, I believe the wizard is Estran.”
“Hmm, closer.” Valasar narrowed his eyes. “What have we on her?”
“Next to nothing, my lord. We believe she’s using a pseudonym. Most wizards do, after all.”
“Interesting. Where were they last seen before this?”
“In Redcrest. They’re believed to have aided the city during an arcane attack. The Court Wizard went rogue, and the adventurers dealt with it.” Arturim looked to his lord as the heavy-set dragonborn studied the map.
“And Alathor’s response?”
“Unknown. They’ve been pardoned of all wrongdoing, but I feel there’s more to it than that.”
“They’re currying favour. Looking for allies. The sailor was a fool to kill that lordling in Rell, and they’ve finally realized.” The Scalelord paused to think a moment. “Let us put the wolf among the sheep. Send word to the Imperial Council. They are wanted under Scalar law, and if any nation is granting them political asylum, it will be considered an act of war.”
The Greenfang captain looked puzzled. “My lord, we have no crime to charge them for.”
The dragonborn king turned to leave.