The first thing Mella remembered about the fight with Aegert was how quickly he cowed. Aegert fell not to Whitacre‘s confident posturing but to Pierre’s. Pierre was strong, this to be sure after he faced down those men outside the cave – but to instantly turn someone’s arrogance to cowardice with only a phrase and some music? Mella was impressed.
The rest of combat blurred together in her mind: the Specter leaping forward at each of her friends while she tackled its master to the cave floor then dodged a magical icy bolt that ended up in Aegert’s shoulder. After that someone – an axe comes to mind so it must have been Damon – finished the job by knocking the lying jerk (how could he proclaim to be innocent when he must have manipulated those two boys?) out cold. After that, Mella recalled even less as she remained near Aegert ready to act if he were to wake up again before everyone had recovered; if she could find an opening it was only for one of her arrows to fly through. Whitacre remained in the shadows, she’d give him the benefit of the doubt and assume that he was casting some kind of spell and not just muttering to himself. What she could hear clearly, beyond Pierre proclaiming something about six packs, through the end of the fight was the screams and shrieks the Specter let out with each hit to its form. Naeris swinging her sword, Damon brandishing and later kicking away his handaxe, Pierre just continuing to play and spit words – it definitely made the beginning of the fight pale in comparison.
After they’d licked their wounds and her companions had counted all the riches (Mella still needed to make sure the town got their fair share in return), they’d taken Aegert back to town to face justice. Then again, it wasn’t that simple. Whitacre had broken down, quite convincingly too – even though he’d yet to give the answer as to why he called himself “weak”, Mella believed that he regretted his actions. She needed to work on overcoming her suspicions and help relieve him of his internal shame, as would Ilmater have her do. In addition to that, her patience at her partners’ apparent greed had worn thin and she’d just shrugged a still dazed Aegert over her shoulders and left. Maybe it’d been the right thing to do seeing as they’d caught up to by at the river, where they’d all taken the boat back to Nimbre.
After a shaky discussion with the mayor of the town, where she’d stayed silent out of weariness (much easier just to hold on to a criminal’s body than talk politics), Aegert had been set in county jail with the group plus the head guard to stand watch overnight until the cart towards Bright Citadel could be summoned in the morning. Who knows what the rest of the night would hold for them?