The Capital thrums with whispers of an assassination plot. The target is unknown, the conspirators elusive. Only one thing is certain: its accomplishment hinges on something called the Maiden’s Talon.
’Have you heard? Assassination plots! The government in danger! A defense is to be mounted!'
'I am certain the invisble arts are involved, but fools in the Capital require ‘tangible proof’ to even consider measures against them! I can’t sit around waiting for bodies to drop!'
'This should convince them, and even if it doesn’t, I can prepare against any sort of spirit! Be it a Devourer or Deciever, a strix or a wolf-splinter, I’ll thwart whatever these scoundrels try!’
Dr Haig, armed with knowledge, prepared defenses against any spirits the would-be assassins might employ for their plot.
’Who is it that wants the Germanófilo dead? Who besides decent people everywhere…'
'The problem with decent people, of course, is that they don’t do what needs to be done. Unsavory characters are certainly behind this plot.'
'The battles between factions have been simmering for many years, but the Worms move boldly here. I think they sense an opportunity to disrupt the machinations of Eternity through a Stone-vestige. I doubt the Talon will cooperate as they hope.‘
Tte Cruz identified the Worms of a Scale as the organizers of the plot, but suspected the Maiden’s Talon may not be the most reliable ally.
’Whatever conspiracies are at play here matter not to me. The Maiden’s Talon, however… that is another story.'
'You know the Tragulari hunt down the Long. Before I abandoned my darts, I heard - only heard - that a rare few employed the Talon in their hunts. I want to know how.'
'So the Talon is a rogue Name, perhaps even an Hour-that-may. Meddling in mortal affairs is strange, but perhaps that’s how she has survived so long… or perhaps there’s something else more-than-mortal involved. Seems I need to pay the Capital a visit.‘
After discovering the Talon to be a rogue Name, Emilia departed for the Capital to investigate her involvement in mortal affairs.
’Plots and power plays… Not my concern. But the Talon is.'
'The Talon once rent my flesh. Well, not my flesh. But I still remember how that wound felt.'
'When the Axe was sharper, the Maiden’s Talon was her foremost Name. Even a vestige can pierce the toughest scales. I will be in danger. I will go anyways.‘
Petros noted that even in a vestigal state, the Maiden’s Talon could pierce the toughest scales.
’I am doomed to meddle. Doomed to meddle prudently. Help me be prudent, please.‘
Striges circle and schemers seek an advantage. What could the Maiden’s Talon serve to gain by involving herself in political schemes?'
'The Talon and I are more alike than I thought. We both served the Horned-Axe, we both failed to secure her aims, and now neither of us can stay separate from the world as we might wish. Maybe, just maybe, she and I can together seek reunion with the one Hour who hates reunion more than anything else.‘
Sor Cross found a certain kinship with the Talon as fellow rejected servant of the Horned-Axe, and considered attempting a reunion with their patron.
’Some are too dangerous to let live. Some are too dangerous to destroy. Very rarely are both these paths taken at once, but I believe this Talon has a foot on each one.'
'The Talon bears a similar nature to the Many-Winged Ones, but they only ever serve one master. Or perhaps their other master is simply hidden from our sight. I can guess as to where, and as to whom it may be - and I sense it unwise to speak more than this.‘
’The Talon is a failure and an abomination. She strives for something beyond herself, cannot content herself to be separate from the Wake nor from the Mansus. She aspires for too much.'
'The Names which serve understand when they must surrender power, lest they become an Hour-that-may. The Chancel have their accounted thirty, and while the thirty stand, the Hours-that-may pursue usurpation. If the Talon comes to her senses, perhaps she will reenter the Mansus-order, with her blades thoroughly dulled.‘
’History is a scar on the world’s skin, and the living are the blades which wound it. But wounds cannot heal fully until the blade is taken out.'
'The remnants of the gods-from-stone still strive against their slayers. While a single cut remains, they will not stop. The Colonel likely knew this when he underwent his scarring, and that is why he coldly marches onward. When he saw his end, he killed his regrets, to keep his hesitations from ceding ground to his fated foes.‘