At the tower, news was exchanged to the newcomers. Of course, Rowan was very
distressed about the situation. The Ronins couldn’t do anything to calm him down
and neither could the Warlords.

He then felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around to see a woman in white
robes. Her hair was black, and held in a ponytail.

She had the kindest midnight blue eyes Rowan had ever seen. This woman, was of
course, Leylia, high priestess of the Temple of Marfa.

“I see the gravity of your problem. Leylia my love, are you sure you can do
this?” asked Slayn. “Yes dear. For one thing, there’s someone who is all too
willing to help me.” She replied, placing her hand on Rowan’s shoulder.

At this, everyone stared at him. He stared and gently put Leylia’s away from
his shoulder. And walked, rather quickly, up the tower stairs.

He was in a balcony when Piurotess found him. She’d of course known about the
recent events. And since he made a close friendship with the once-marmo
official, he told her of his feelings for Kyra.

She put her gloved hand on Rowan’s shoulder and said; “Why don’t you go back and
help Leylia?” He turned, his eyes level with the Dark Elf’s and said; “I don’t
really know.”

“The way you talk about the heiress sounds like you will do anything for her.”
Rowan was about to retort when something caught his mind.

Heiress? What was Piurotess talking about? He shook his head and decided it
wasn’t worth finding that out now.

He glanced at the orange-eyed dark elf and hugged her. “Piurotess, you’re
right. I can’t let her down. Not now. And not like this.” With that he went back
to the tower to tell everyone that he decided to help Leylia.