"Greece, France, Morocco, the Netherlands, Germany, Egypt, Libya, Tunisia, Italy, Spain, England. Libya and Tunisia and Morocco are larger shipments, I think those shipments get sold throughout Africa?"

Wow. That’s... a lot. Araari is going to try very hard to remember it. She repeats the list a couple times to herself. ...Wait. “None of those countries are in Latin America.”

"Oh, sorry." He looks very panicked. "Also Mexico, there's a special ship to Mexico."

“It’s alright, sir. You do not need to apologize for forgetting. —There is also a Nectar business in Los Angeles, though I believe they produce their own. Is it—helpful for me to tell you these things? I was thinking to pool our knowledge, but you seem shaken as well, and I can be quiet if you would prefer.”

"Yes, um, pooling our knowledge sounds really good, it's just-- I'm really not good at this? At all?

Except the running away part. I'm good at the running away part. And hiding. And, um, dodging."

“It’s alright. You were going to show me the library?”

"Oh! Um. Yes."

The library is a small, alcove-like chamber filled with books on shelves and in stacks: a variety of Christian theological texts mixed in with a few odd occult tomes and historical records of the Knights.

Historical record seems to be the likeliest to be something useful she doesn’t know that isn’t sanity-rending.

...it is kind of difficult to tell the sanity-rending tomes apart from the historical ones.

Hm. What are the titles of the occult tomes? Probably reading just the titles is fine.

The titles are all in Latin, to discourage the unwary reader.

"So, how are you finding it?"

He has a cup of tea.

“The books? Not well, I haven’t found much of anything.”

"Unfortunate," he says. "So, um, I should probably try to tell you some more? About what I know?"

Nod. “Yes please. I can tell you what I know, as well.” And then, before she can help it: “Mor—the man who was with me at the hospital. Did he. Do you know if there is any chance he might still be alive?”

"I, um, am not really a doctor? But he looked knocked out and not dead.

I don't know what happens when the cult gets him though. I think, um, bad things."

Swallow. “Yes. I would—also think that.” Her hand flies up to grip at the crucifix around her neck, clutching at it until it bites into her palm. “I’m sorry to interrupt. You were—going to tell me what you know.”

"Yes. Um. So the god they worship is called Nyarlathotep?"

Araari nods. “The Liar.”

"Yes. It is a demon which has plagued mankind since the earliest times? And my order has been, um, battling it.

They all died battling it."

“—I ought to leave soon, my companions will grow worried for me if I don’t return to the hotel before dark. Thank you again.” Also if Mordred isn’t dead yet then she should probably be fast. She’s wasted too much time already. She bows to Martin. “Is this a place I might be allowed to return to, or at least might I speak with you further at a later time?”

"Um. Yes? I think we should probably be, uh, allies in this.

Where do you need to go? I can show you a way there. The catacombs can be kind of confusing."

She tells him the hotel's address. "How might I get in touch with you in the future?”

"Um. I'm not really that-- contactable? I live in the catacombs and it's not like they have, uh, phones. Maybe we can set up a meeting time tomorrow?"

“That sounds good. Just give me a place and time?”

"Tomorrow afternoon at 3pm at the hotel?"

“Alright.”

And he directs her through the catacombs and she arrives out of the sewer grate at the hotel.