One of my Royal Guard and a lad from Telltown entered in the midst of Balwee's attempt to tell his version of the tale. The news he brings requires my immediate attention. I excuse myself from the board and detail one of my Drui to keep an eye on the Sidhe babe. Then I go to attend the guard, who still stands at the doorway.

"Now what is this bad news you are bringing to my ears?" I ask the guard.

He glances at the boy before replying. "The lad came to us with a tale of a murder, in the woods near the Festival Grounds. Says he was nearby, with a friend, when he heard a scream. He rushed over just in time to see a group rush off on horseback. They left a man for dead, in the clearing."

"Do he have any idea who the victim might have been?" I ask.

"We went to have a look for ourselves," the guard replies. "From the tattered tartan, he seems to be of the MacRoth, but fallen on hard times. From the rest of his gear, I would say he was a ranger or a forester."

"And what of the brigands?" I ask the lad, directly. "Did you, perchance, get a look at them as they rode off?"

He gives his forelock a tug and stares directly at my chest. "Well, Sire. Two of them looked like the pair that were playing at Lugh and Crom Dubh, during the fest, Sire! An' there was at least one woman with them. They all rode off hard, on the east road. Dunno any more than that, Sire!" He scuffs his bare feet in the dust before the threshold and ducks his head.

"Save this for Samhain!" I tell the lad, handing him a silver coin. "Go around to the kitchen and say that I sent you to get something to eat." The lad runs off, and I turn my attention back to the guard.

"Have you sent out scouts and trackers?" I ask.

"Indeed we have, but with all the traffic on the road," he answers, "their trail was soon lost. I sent them back again, with orders to comb every inch of the road and the woods, from here to Inver Colpa."

"Very good!" I tell him. "Detail two of your men to take the body to the Mound of Hostages. Have the women there wash the body and prepare it. Also, send me one of your fastest riders. I will want to send a messenger off to the MacRoth, to tell of this unfortunate happening." He raps his spear butt on the flags by way of salute and turns to go about his assigned business.

With a heavier heart, I return to the festivities and my now-cold supper. It saddens me when such thing happen at any of the sacred celebrations. It seems an affront to the Gods to do such a thing.