[ Normally Ekkehardt might be more insightful or thoughtful, but it's already been a long few weeks and the looming promise of yet more long weeks to come hasn't put him in a particularly pleasant mood.

He puts his cup of tea down with more force than is strictly necessary, stares at his meeting notes, and says, without looking up: ]

How large a dose of poison would you need to kill a Herald, do you think? Or failing that, whatever kind of beast this Fomalhaut is. I'm open to suggestions.