One had to keep one's self busy. That was the lesson Glenn Burnie had been learning over the last few days. So long as he was busy, then he was most certainly himself. There was no clenching of hands or curt responses to those around him or vapid daydreaming that lead to walking headlong into trees. There was focus and wit and determination.
Thankfully, he had a great deal to keep his mind busy. There was training, both swordsplay with Ariane and strategy and tactics with Deost. There was the issue of the Myrkenwall, certainly. There were chores in Esraeux to keep his strength up and pay for room and board. And then... then, there was the Fiend.
The decision to go and review Esraeux' library had been a fortuitous one. There he had found pristine copies of books that Teron had mutilated. At first, he had only looked for the most specific things in those pages, references to the Ashfiend himself. Later on, however, after Foggy Bottom, Glenn looked into Myrkenlore itself. The town had been ravaged solely to allow Teron a chance to procure this weapon forged by ancients in the mine hidden behind the falls, this weapon that may have been created either for his use or to be used againt him, this sword, Deliverance.
There was a story related to this, but right up until he had met with the fool gypsy, and she had provided him with the ancient map found in the Foggy Bottom's hall of records, there had been little he could do to check into his suspicions. Even after that, the incident at the Baker farm, Cinnabar's rise, his own personal issues... there was so much going on. It was only this NEED to keep himself busy that had pushed the mapmaker to complete this work, to compare story and maps, both old and new.
It was with this determination, certainly bolstered from his interactions with Ariane and his need not to.. not to what? Not to worry her? Not to give her reason to be worried at least? Not to degrade into some sort of... no matter. It was determination and it brought him straight to the Constabulary, and past that to Cinnabar's door. It wasn't a far walk from his desk was it. There would be a knock. Maps were under one arm. A book was under another. The poor High Constable would likely assume that the business of the wall was on Glenn's mind. Unfortunately, that was not the case.