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Graves cocked an eyebrow. “...Ettol, you say? That is the name of an Ancient Melmoorian trickster god.”

“Yeah, dude, my reaper may’ve mentioned a thing ‘r two about that,” said Leo. “But I’m more interested in the modern day. So have you ever heard of a psychic who goes by that name?”

“I’m afraid not,” said Graves. “But even if I had, what would you do with such information? Please tell me you do not intend to go after this person with some sort of plan.”

“Plans come later, daddy-o. Once the gatherin’ of intel is complete. Or further along, at least.”

“Mr. Leonardo. I may not be fully apprised of your circumstances, but I do know something of the dangers you’ve described. Please trust me when I say that if it happened once, it can absolutely happen a second time. This does not sound like someone you should pursue haphazardly. I implore you to be exceedingly cautious.”

“Ooh. If you’re the one saying that, then maybe this fellow is even scarier than I thought. ‘Preciate the warning, pal.”

The marshal’s gaze lingered on Leo for a few moments more before returning to the rest of the table.

Diego felt the whole room relax a little. Phew.

“Well,” said Graves, “with that out of the way, I’d like to return to what we were discussing before. Czacoa.”

“Still?” said Rayen Merlo. “I should think we have made ourselves quite clear by now.”

“You have,” said Graves. “But permit me this one last courtesy. Then I shall not trouble you with it again. Fair?”

The Lady Merlo glanced across the table and saw a few nods of affirmation before relenting and giving one of her own.

“Thank you,” said Graves. He stood and produced a pair of tablets from his overcoat, fiddling with them briefly before sliding them over to the people on his right and left, who happened to be Rider, one of Santos Zabat’s sons, and Delia, one of Evangelina Stroud’s daughters. “This footage was taken from Denbohlt just yesterday. I’m sure I don’t need to worry about your sensitivities, but even so, allow me to warn you: it is quite graphic.”

The tablets passed along the edges of the table, and soon enough, one of them reached Diego’s hands.

The scene unfolding on the screen was of a type that he’d witnessed before.

Razed buildings. Smote ground and smoldering piles of rubble. Smoke and ash filling the sky. Bodies littering the ground.

Diego passed it on to his grandmother.

“I well know the noble spirit of the Rainlords,” said Graves. “I know you all have within you that most valiant of instincts to intervene and protect the innocent. But I’m sure that mere video footage will not be enough to sway you. So allow me to create an even more vivid depiction of what is happening over there, right now.”