The Scions are not the only ones who have been waiting and, for some, it has been far longer than Haurchefant likely realizes. Not that the man can be blamed for things he cannot possibly know. It wouldn't be right to lay such expectations at his feet. It isn't right. And yet here the Exarch comes, bearing a burden that no man should be asked to carry. At least the onus will be brief, should everything go as planned.

Very little has, so far.

Long strides carry the Exarch away from the Dossal Gate toward Lakeland proper, heavy hood protecting his features from the cold light above. One would think, as practiced as he had become at summoning, he could have managed to bring Haurchefant to the Occular directly. Instead he must hope that the man sees the massive spire of Syrcus Tower and heads towards it rather than anywhere else. It would be wise to hurry, yet the layers of his robe weigh his shoulders down and the weight of his staff drags where there are no guards or citizens to see. He cannot bring himself to run.

Instead, Lyna is the first to spot the approaching stranger. He is clearly no sin-eater but the armed and armored elf is given a measuring look as she steps forward to intercept him.

"Hold, stranger," the guard captain says. "What business brings you to these gates?"