Neron paced back and forth in the antechamber of the Banquet Room. The end of winter was always time for celebration in the Mirrored Hall, as the outside weather got from "deadly with a chance of annihilation" to "noxious to most lifeforms", and a feast signaled the beginning of another season of Blood Bowl. Winter was the time for witchcraft and other dealings he didn't want to know about, but that were viewed as essential by the higher-ups. The laughter of coach Windhelm boomed through the crystalline door, temporarily drowning the constant chittering from the mass of familiars.
Muttering to himself, he started massaging his temples. Since he got hurt against those strange elves, he was tormented a semi-constant headache, that worsened every time he felt anxious or in danger. But that was manageable. The dreams and voices were the problem: inintelligible whispers, shambling shapes in the corner of the eye, visions of alien landscapes. His breath, becoming shorter and shorter as the day passed. He didn't know what to blame, the concussion or the building itself. Whatever the case, something was eroding his sanity.
Before then he rarely, if ever, paid attention to the scuttling multitude of creatures that populated the building. Now, he couldn't stop thinking about the eyes watching, judging, conspiring. Was it paranoia, or newfound awareness? The entire Hall felt like a giant ear, always listening - a living, hostile being, serving Masters with dark plans.

He thought back to the final words of the Harbinger's speech. "We're the tide, the wave of Change. We will sweep away the old; everything will crumble before us, eventually. It's inevitable - how can you fight back against the current? You can't. The tide always wins, in the end.". Then the thing smiled. He felt a chilling sensation running down his spine, just as it happened before. There was more behind those words than a league, more than Blood Bowl. A threat to the world itself, maybe. Was it also directed to him?

A side door opened, taking him away from his thoughts. It took him a moment to realize it, but the festivity must have ended, as the room had fallen in complete, eerie silence. The Herald stood in the doorway. Neron hadn't interacted much with the warriors of the Coven, and Do-Galaad was the less talkative of the bunch. The man was huge, almost eight paces in height. He was nearly emotionless, all the time. His skin was weirdly discolored, pale and translucent, but the features were noble, like those of a Bretonnian knight. The face of a hero on the body of an abomination.

"There you are" , he said. "You went away from the party early."
"Y-y-yeah. I'm... I'm not feeling too good, that's all."
"Mmh."
"In fact, I think I will go to the dorm to take a rest, if that's ok."
"I see."
Neron motioned uncomfortably towards the door. The armour-clad giant stood motionless, staring at him. The beastman stopped in his track.

"Do you... need anything from me?"
The warrior sighed.
"Neron, we didn't ever really talk to each other, did we?"
"Ahm..."
"I understand why the coach trusts you. After all, your upbringing makes you closer to him than anyone inside this Hall. I also understand that his influence might have given you reason to see me as an enemy."
Cold sweat started to form under the tzaangor fur.
"I-I... I've never done- I mean, I've never thought of you..."
"No need to deny it. As I said, I understand. What I need you to believe, however, is that I have no ill-will towards you. I know that my station and role mean that I seem somewhat uninterested and distant, but don't mistake that for malevolence. Frankly, the plan is so much more important than you, me and coach AutoAxpert that anything you do outside the field is completely redundant. But I need to trust you, and I need you to trust me, the others and the rest of the staff."

Again, silence. Neron glommed and licked his lips.
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I know you've thought about retirement, about running away and going back home. Not many players survive for long after head injuries, and certainly they don't if the team hasn't got their back. But fear not: the Coven will help its own, and vanquish the others. You did listen to our speech before, didn't you? Just keep this in mind: pick sides wisely. Me, the coach, the Harbinger, it makes no difference. But you are either useful to the cause or a hindrance. I trust you to remain in the first category."
Neron didn't move. A threat to the whole world, towards all enemies. It took him a bit to respond.
"Thanks, I will keep that in mind."
"Good. I also need you to bring this to AutoAxpert on the way. We can't have our head coach starve at the beginning of a new Regional, now can we?"
He handed him a napkin, full of leftover venison and meat pie.
"Will do."

Neron almost ran out of the room, but then he stopped again.
"What's the fastest way from here to the coach apartments?"
But no one was there to answer anymore.