Particularly strange were the blue-tinted black blindfolds each wore, extending from the tips of their noses and covering the tops of their skulls. The simple yet finely woven cloth was tied at the back of each of their heads where Anita let her hair hang loosely down her back, and Davin bound his in a simple ponytail.
The two stood sharply erect, wearing the same blue-black hue of the blindfolds in garments that covered their forms from neck to toe. The high necked, form fitting uniform offered a great deal of flexibility, Onion noted, and with no precarious belt ends or ties, they could avoid the chance of of a snag or the noise of a clink. At their waists hung a cloth utility belt that could easily be mistaken for a short skirt. These people were invisible. She wondered how they managed to keep the clothing on.
Turning back to the blonde, no longer ridiculous looking, fair man she observed matter-of-factly, "You are not a priest then?" With a slight mental slap of her own wrist she scolded herself openly, "I was fooled."
"I wasn't exactly lying. Keeper Rel, I am not looking to incur the wrath of his demons in this lifetime.", he defended his sacrilege with unease. Offering his left hand for Onion to view, he pulled the hand guard back, revealing the part of the tattoo that encircled his wrist, still as blue and vibrant as ever. "I was once a disciple of Rel; a missionary to the Northern Federation of Outer Crestan Tribes. I grew up in Lithen, but my education was here in Eirdred. I could not help but be drawn to serve Rel by teaching of him in your lands. That is how I acquired your marvelous language!"
Onion made a face at the thought of the Northern Outer Crest as her homeland. She was of the Southern Confederacy and to her the Nü in the north there might as well have been from Eirdred themselves, or maybe even Benge. She was soon interrupted from her queer confusion.
"Gregor," came a stern voice cloaked in the tongues of the continent. Nonetheless, Onion could surmise the words of the man who sat across the room, on the other side of the roaring fireplace. Dancing flames gleamed off of his breast plate as he pointed a disgruntled finger to the man Gregor. "Enough gossip for now. The mission is not yet complete." he stressed in a low grumble. The stout, imposing man stood from the wooden chair he had been sitting on, tucked in the corner of the room. Similar to Gregor, he bore the appearance of a soldier with a single solid breast plate and leather jerkins.
"Anita, Davin, please proceed as instructed." he ordered.
"Beithal Vaughn, my Keeper of the Compromised, I will remind you that this operation cost us the better half of a year in efforts by us in securing this location and of the Gegleth for the tunnel. It is my sincere desire that this is worth our efforts.", the woman breathed her words in the silken voice of a consort.
"He is. Do it now.", the forceful man Vaughn aimed the order to the two blindfolded spies with taciturn precision.
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