WILFRED. What — what is happening?
FIGURE. You’re coming to.
WILFRED. Then I am still myself. Those horrors were only dreams!
FIGURE. Sauntered right past the Curtain of Somnus, did you?
WILFRED. I was attacked — They must have drugged me.
FIGURE. Yes. A long strip of cloth, imbued with a stupefying agent. That is their method. There’s plenty of the stuff in here.
WILFRED. Where are we—?
FIGURE. Inside a rustic wagon, the property of those scoundrels. They imitate the locals but operate as bandits. I appear like one of them, but on my honor I am not.
WILFRED. And here: this red mud again, soiling the floorboards! It’s them. I know they are murderers.
FIGURE. My confederates and I overpowered this band after your abduction. It was sooner than we’d planned, but we had to act.
WILFRED. Yet who are they? Anarchists?
FIGURE. Hardly. You’re not likely familiar with The Society of the Iron Frond, but by surveillance, I’ve ascertained their leader to be Frédérolphe-Paul Zerzandebeck—
WILFRED. The outspoken Royalist…
FIGURE. Acolyte of the Archduke Puveloquin, though he is presumed dead.
WILFRED. Zerzandebeck… His estate is close to where they captured me.
FIGURE. We’re headed to his villa. By arriving in this vehicle, we hope to enter the place without being noticed. You must meet the others first. Gather your strength — we are nearly there.
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