A heavy silence hung over the great mansion hall as we convened to finally lay all secrets bare. Dave and Prily sat before Timothee and I, their expressions a mixture of apprehension and resignation.
“Who authorized the trading of our sacred herbs and ingredients to the Riverwalk tribe in the first place?” I demanded, unable to keep the biting edge from my tone. Playing at diplomacy would only allow more lies to fester.
Dave visibly flinched at the directness of my query, but to his credit, he did not prevaricate.
“It was I who initiated contact with their healers, though it began simply as an effort to obtain knowledge,” he admitted, clasping his hands tightly. “When I learned of the degenerative curse plaguing their elders, I...I foolishly thought I could strike a trade agreement to a
