[Event] Swann come home to roost

It had taken several long, bloody months to overcome the Pestilence. Thousands were dead, killed before their sickness could spread. Thousands more had died when they'd tried to stop him and his men in their purge, defending ill family or friends or fellow villagers. Stupid, the lot of them, and his House was little worse off with them dead.Perhaps their labor would be missed, but it would be replaced. Peasants bred like rabbits, after all, and a few years time would be enough to fill the fields once more. A better alternative than the whole of the Slayne valley sickening, taking perhaps a quarter of his subjects to the grave and leaving twice as many disfigured.Riding from Last Song in the west to Saltwool and Kinbrace in the east, scouring every village and farmstead had taken months, but the time between settlements had given him much time to think. With the plague banished, there still required more men than typical to patrol and ensure the sickness didn't return, it left him free to return to Stonehelm.His armor rested once more in the armory to be polished and oiled. His riding clothes had been given over to washerwomen and castlemaids to clean and repair. Even Royal had returned to the stables to his very well-kept stall beside Maelora's own Hellion.The sword, however, remained at his hip. He hadn't bothered counting how many lives it had taken in the course of his campaign, but the interlocking black-and-white leather of the hilt remained pristine, and countercharged blade in similar colors preserved their coloring. He sometimes wondered how much the blade had cost old Lord Osmund, as such dyeing of steel was not a cheap enterprise, but not often.With fresh clothing and his sword--he really ought to name it--he made his way to his wife's chambers. They had parted on tense terms in the wake of Durran's passing, but what he'd done had been necessary.And fun, a dark voice growled with approval. It wasn't a whisper, as it hardly needed to hide itself within his mind. It was him, after all. And oh, how it had indeed been so fun. Slaughtering and burning as he wished, so long as there was a touch of sickness to be found. Indeed, his enthusiasm at finally being allowed to let loose--even if he needed to keep it within reason, lest his own men grow too wary of him--had only made his campaign more effective.And he had succeeded, so with victory in hand and his desire for blood...if not satisfied, then at least sated--he walked with a great deal of pride through his halls, and that is indeed something to be said when it concerns a Swann."Maelora," he said, knocking upon her door. "Will you allow me to enter?"