The cool night air was a refreshing slap in the face, and Clarus breathed deeply once they were clear of the hot tavern air. Too many bodies, too much alcohol. And by the gods did his jaw ache, but he knew it would swell and hurt ten times more in the morning.

"He was. And Regis," Clarus nodded solemnly. There was no point in holding a grudge over the fight, they were both drunk and in a heated state. It was over now and things would probably go right back to normal between them, if not now then by the morning once they'd slept their blood-alcohol level down. He lifted a hand to rub idly at his chin, feeling the bruising already. He'd be a sorry sight for a bit, but this was what potions and healing spells were for.

"A glaive, Nyx Ulric, arrived at the same time I did," he continued. "He saw Regis's death, and he killed Drautos himself, at the cost of his own life. He told me, and I believe him." Which meant they'd completely and utterly failed to detect and nullify a threat to the crown.