《The GraveWalkers》 Prologue Death was a dangerous, inevitable force that plagued those it touched, but Korran had long since befriended its ghost, after carrying numerous people to keep its company - which is why it was almost hurtful when his dear friend betrayed him. He''d been given the usual job - though easier than most, which should''ve raised questions, but the lure of quick money dowsed hesitation. Kill a guy who was stepping on the wrong feet in the underworld. Simple enough. It was how he made his modest living and the reason for his grand reputation which often brought more trouble than good. Hell, all trouble - no good. Yet it was what he had been born into and excel at it he did. So he didn''t expect a rotund man to give him trouble once he''d dealt with his inexperienced bodyguards who were more likely to turn tail and run than face the dangerous glint of his twin daggers. And they hadn''t disappointed in that regard. Once their first feeble attempt at boxing him in a corner failed after he parried their every blow in a whirl of short blades and masterful agility, they decided they weren''t paid enough gurdees per hour for their loved ones to mourn them. His target had been nothing impressive either. Ironically, in a move showcasing more bravery than his guards - he''d rushed Korran with a clumsy charge, taking a rather respectable swing at him with a meaty fist. However, it''d taken nothing out of Korran to duck under the predictable attack and slam an elbow in his ribs. While the man reacted to the pain, Korran maneuvered behind the man''s back quickly, making quick work of the tendons in the man''s legs with trained slices of his daggers. His victim''s pain didn''t please him like it did most contract killers, so he unceremoniously drove a dagger deep into the man''s chest when he fell, screaming in raw pain. His dagger felt less resistance than he was accustomed to, but he paid it no mind. Either way, a dagger to the heart was lethal and experience confirmed his aim was true. Or so it should''ve been. Instead, the man suddenly stopped screaming but didn''t stiffen out nor did his eyes glaze over. His hand reached out to grip Korann''s in an iron steel grip, preventing Korran from dislodging his dagger from the man''s chest. Korran fought against the grip but it might as well have been a golden shackle considering it didn''t budge Most worrying of all though were the man''s eyes. They were unblinking, focused on him like no human pupils he''d ever seen. If he didn''t know better he''d think the man was trying to poke twin holes with lasers coming out of his eyes. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Korran''s brain fought to understand what was occurring and he remembered what was thought to be a legend; someone near death occasionally went mad, caught between the afterlife and the physical world, allowing them to pull off superhuman feats - much like a Pateral. It was the only explanation that had any rationality behind it so Korran accepted it, pumelling the man''s head with his left fist in hopes of reminding his nervous system to shut down before he could drag him into the afterlife with him. Instead of the intended effect, the man actually stood up with his grip still unyielding, his eyes that of a possessed man. Korran''s punches turned frantic now - cursing himself silently for dropping his other dagger. He usually kept more on his person but for some reason, he had only brought two with him this time. The man who had been dispatched so easily moments before now lumbered forward, easily lifting Korran off the ground with his iron grip. Korran could do nothing but struggle futilely against the man''s sudden ogre strength. What he would''ve given for a dagger in his hand to drive into the man''s neck repeatedly. He usually didn''t go for those types of kills because it was messy, but he''d have no qualms here. The terrain of the ground suddenly changed, although the man had taken only a few steps, and Korran looked behind him as best as he could, shocked by the sight that greeted him. They''d initially been in grasslands after Korran had tracked them down to a small village and tailed their carriage before ambushing them here - away from any potential witnesses. Now, he was being carried over wet mud that caused the man''s boots to sink deep into the ground, though he showed no discomfort. Out of the corner of his eye, Korran saw an object and as he neared it his heart dropped. An opened grave. Did the man plan to dump him inside of it? The truth was even more shocking. A hand plunged from the depths, reaching out for Korran and the face that peered from the tenebrous depths made even Korran feel a pang of fear at the visual. The face was decaying, the flesh having rotted enough for some of the figure''s bare skull to poke through, It hit Korran then that he should''ve been smelling something; wet mud, blood, rotting flesh but instead, he smelled nothing at all. But feel he did, as the clearly dead man grabbed onto his shirt from behind and yanked him and his target-turned-assailant down into the grave with him. The last thing he remembered was the sound of his scream, although he was too shocked to even recognize himself performing the action. Korran jumped up and almost leaped out of his skin when something moved close to his ear. He drew a dagger from his sleeve and flung it at the intruder, impaling an unfortunate rat. He was sweating up a mini tsunami across his body and he felt like he''d just run a marathon - or perhaps fought an entire army. Another bad dream. Yet it''d felt so real - so lifelike. Even though a dead man rising from the grave was unheard of in any region. Hell, even in the city of Khlinork where mad scientists went and travelers knew to stay clear of, such a thing would be called a hoax. Still, the sound of his dear grandmother telling him that recurring dreams were some sort of sign echoed through his subconscious, no matter how much he tried to quell it. He looked around his makeshift home warily, happy that there were only rats in the cave to witness the great Korran screaming because of a nightmare. He sighed, removing the dagger from the rat that was easily bigger than a man''s palm. "It''s a sign alright...a sign that I''m losing my mind." Chapter One Alaric sighed, staring at his cup of cheap mud-brown rum with contempt. It had been the most expensive drink offered in the tavern, yet the sting of shoddy rum burnt his tonsils. He''d never quite gotten accustomed and he doubted he ever would. He shouldn''t be surprised that such a small town lacked any refined beverages, considering that most people here were poor, and those who found fortune or sought it migrated to greener pastures. Truly, the town felt like a rotting corpse in itself. The streets reeked of animal waste (and likely some human), and the residents weren''t much better off in their smell or manner. Their eyes were those of vultures; quick to search a man''s soul for a sign of weakness as he passed and the weight of his pockets. Alaric traced his breastplate beneath his tattered cape that he wore for appearances. An emblem on the breastplate was the source of his tracing and motivation alike. He often traced the design when he needed a reminder of why he''d traveled so far, and still had so much further to go to achieve his goals. His city would be proud of his great sacrifices. He''d lingered too long in the tavern. Eyes were starting to burn holes in his back and patrons sitting in crowded tables were getting antsy. They could sense he wasn''t one of them - perhaps it was his too-perfect-posture, his perfect stubble beard, or simply the smell of him that was not vulture-like. He didn''t reek of desperation. Alaric downed the sketchy contents of the cup with a forceful gulp then stood after slapping down his payment with a slight tip. He made his way toward the door, noting the way the entire room seemed to eye him as one. One particular patron started to rise from his seat as Alaric passed, bravely deciding to be the first to have a go. Alaric lifted his ragged cape just enough so his massive greatsword was revealed. It caught the faint light the tavern''s bulb provided and glinted slightly. Finally, Alaric locked eyes with the man, a dangerous expression decorating his face. The would-be assailant hesitated, his deep caramel eyes holding Alaric''s for only a few heartbeats longer before dropping to the floor as he retook his seat. Had he continued his approach, the entire tavern would have backed him up with their pack mentality, but a retreat had the opposite effect. Once Alaric was outside he quickened his pace. Even together the patrons didn''t pose much of a threat - but they were capable of taking up his time - time he didn''t quite have at the moment. He''d splurged to acquire a particular parcel of information that had led him to this town and he knew he had a small window before his target would disappear once again. After all, his target was no simple prey ready to run away from a hunter, no. He was after a legend. And a dangerous one at that. A contract killer whose reputation stretched across nations for his efficiency and skill. The story went he''d taken on a big job - one a sane person wouldn''t dare because of the dangers, even upon completion - and it had led to a colossal price placed on his head. No one was sure if he''d completed the job or not, or even the exact details of this job, though most assumed he''d been tasked with killing someone of great rank - but what was sure is he''d gone into hiding with all the heat on him. Alaric was past intrigued with this legend, he was enamored with it. If the legend held its weight, then he''d be a great asset to Alaric''s plans and he was sure he could offer something that''d make the man perk up. Alaric was accustomed to bustling cobblestone streets back in Heuldrik, one of the main cities in which he had been raised. However, in this miserable town, only dirt paths were available to be trodden on, and the few residents who walked the paths walked with slow, cautious steps, their eyes constantly scanning for trouble and prey alike. It wasn''t surprising that merchants gave this town a wide berth. However, Alaric''s target frequented the town if his informant was to be believed and that''s why he was willing to endure the lackluster town. He weaved through the few people populating each dirt path, wary even in his rush that he wasn''t being followed or looked at too hard. He made it to the shop without feeling watched and sat on one of the aged benches provided further down the path adjacent to the shop. Thankfully, except for unidentifiable filth, it was unoccupied and Alaric settled in for what he expected to be a long wait. Alaric found himself grateful for how uncomfortable the bench was, as it prevented any thoughts of fatigue overcoming him from straying into his head. If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. About a half-hour later, Alaric finally saw someone that resembled what his informant described. He''d said that the man''s robe frequently changed between visits, but one constant was black sandals joined by silver straps that made no sound when they graced the ground. In truth, the small figure caught Alaric''s eye before he had the thought to match the description of sandals and soundless steps. To put it simply, the figure would''ve stood out in a room full of the greatest ballerinas the nation of Kallvark had to offer. The practiced poise at which he moved with was ghostlike, and thanks to the extensive training Alaric had been subject to, he recognized the posture of someone who was ready to lash out at any second. Though his gait seemed carefree, this figure was aware of his surroundings and on high alert. Alaric dared not risk anything more than a passing glance else he be deemed a threat. Satisfied that this figure oozing battle prowess in a village drastically lacking was his man, Alaric waited until his silent sandals disappeared around the curve at the end of the dirt path and counted eight seconds before taking a stroll after his mark. The key to trailing an experienced killer who was often on the other side of the hunt was to never come off as a predator. One wary glance here, a fleeting glance there, and never establishing eye contact ensured that one may not detect a brave stare, and instead a stray, startled look. Alaric employed this method here and although he wasn''t sure he was the best at it, he was helped by the man''s intense focus on what was in front of him and never directly looking around or backward - though Alaric suspected he was putting his peripheral vision to use with every person he passed. His mark led him through scarcely populated dirt paths - which Alaric noticed with slight embarrassment, the vultures cast much more predatory gazes his way than his mark''s. Eventually, his mark led him away from the houses and men reeking of desperation and into the forest and animals reeking considerably less of hidden motives. Here, his technique of the occasional casual glance was especially effective, considering there was so much wildlife scurrying away from the intruders. Still, Alaric took the utmost caution not to venture too close to his mark. Thanks to his training, he knew exactly where to step with just a glance to avoid the snapping of twigs, the sludge of wet dirt, the clamor of dry leaves, or brushing against bushes. He startled more than a few rodents with his quiet approach. Yet, compared to his mark, he may as well have been playing a flute. If the figure ever ventured out of his sight there was no way to hear him, even when the birds decided to halt their genial singing. After about ten minutes, the target''s path gave way to one leading out of the forest and up the face of a mountain. The rocky terrain slowed Alaric down more, else he risked kicking rocks and alerting his mark that he was above someone on a lower trail. Mercilessly, his mark did not have the same issue and was soon out of sight. Alaric could only hope that the man''s destination wasn''t far away and he hadn''t come all this way for naught. He kept his robe lifted ever-so-slightly so he could draw his sword, in case he had been discovered and his mark had an ambush planned on the narrow path that seemed to wind upwards forever. Alaric wasn''t scared of heights but fighting on such a narrow path a couple hundred feet in the air was bound to give any man butterflies. Not the good kind. Fortunately, no such ambush awaited. The cliff trail continued up until a cave that appeared darker than a moonless December night. There was a trail which continued upward, past the cave''s entrance but instinct told Alaric that the man he sought was holed up in there. Instinct or the fact that if he''d continued up, there would likely be no catching him at this point. He entered the cave, an involuntary chill invading his spine at the crisp cold that enveloped him on entry, and the creepiness of it all. He wondered if he should try calling out to his mark, to avoid startling him and initiating a fight. After all, what he was after was a discussion that would hopefully end with the acceptance of his fair proposition. He''d taken a few steps inside when he heard the whisper of death on the still air and pivoted, swinging his great sword as he turned to his back with tremendous force. He felt the parry of a small blade with impressive strength behind it, skewering a bit of his momentum before slipping under his sizeable sword. Alaric hopped backward, fearful of another attack. He''d swung to kill out of instinct and a part of him was glad the man had been skilled enough to avoid it, while a much bigger part of him was impressed he''d done it with just a dagger. What he feared the most though, was the lack of bloodlust when the man had attacked. He''d been just like...a ghost. "You should be careful with that thing." The monotone voice had come from behind Alaric and he whirled once again, his heart doing acrobatics inside his chest. He saw only darkness and clutched his sword close to him, preparing himself to fend off an attack from any direction. The sound of a match being lit penetrated the taut silence and a moment later, a fire lit a wall torch, illuminating the room enough for Alaric to see his mark perched on a ledge next to the wall torch. His first thought was how''d he get up there so quickly, but he reared back in shock when he saw the face of the man who''d just parried his killing strike with just a dagger. Because it was not the face of a man, but a teenager. Chapter Two Korran stared down at his home''s intruder. Now that he got a good look at the man who had followed him from the small village of Halia, he almost laughed at his presentation. He seemed sinewy and tall, but the subject of his laughter was the man''s clothes. He wore a robe, which appeared tattered but it was clearly artificial to any eye capable of contrasting a cow from a sheep. Despite its apparent ragged nature, the material itself didn''t seem aged or like it was beginning to lose its color. Instead, it just appeared that someone had poked holes in a mud-brown robe. "Hello there," the intruder said finally. "I come in peace." Korran snorted. Just seconds ago the man had swung with enough bloodlust to burst a dam, and the strength to match. His hand still felt numb from his foolish attempt at parrying the sword. Still, he didn''t need to know that. "I figured. What with you knocking politely with your sword and all. Very mannerly." "Sorry about that - it''s hard to stay polite when you''re sneak attacked," the intruder responded. He had a thick city accent that couldn''t hide from even the most clueless of ears - much less Korran''s. Sneak attack. That''s what this man had called his attempt to subdue him and ask him what his business was because Korran could smell wealth from a mile away and the man reeked. Yet, the man was not just a silly merchant, considering he''d reacted off a fighter''s instinct and managed to detect Korran. Not many men could achieve such a thing. Korran grinned and leaped down from the ledge, landing lighter than most men did in a simple step. He approached his cave''s intruder with his daggers drawn and paraded on either side of him menacingly. "No problem, I''ll make sure when I go for your jugular it''s done from the front." "There''s no need for that," the man replied, even as he gripped his sword tighter. Korran had noticed him scanning the cave which was evidence of working with a trainer. You never wanted to be caught in a place your adversary knew well and you not at all. Korran stopped just out of reach of the man''s sword. He trusted in his ability to dodge a swing and step past it to launch a counter-attack if the man decided to test his luck. "Out with it then, I''ve only a teeny amount of patience for uninvited guests in my humble abode." The man briefly looked around as if searching for the abode but said nothing. Korran didn''t care for his scrutiny. The cave had one entrance and exit, lit only by one torch at a time, making it a tall task for an attacker to catch him by surprise without knowledge of the cave''s structure. Whatever mansion this city lamb had grown up calling a house was much less secure - he''d know, after all, he was sent after targets residing in mansions often. "I''ve come with a job proposition," the man announced. "Not interested. Especially not from royalty." The man recoiled after the last word as if it had physically slapped him. "What?" He hissed. "How do you know?" Korran gave the man a glance over. "Your disguise is terrible for one. It shows how someone of a higher standing views us common folk. Simply put, you lack the experience to mimic the reality of the people not born next to a golden dagger. Put that together with your obvious ambition to follow me this far without guards and arrogantly talk of a proposition, I''d say you''re some form of royalty looking to quicken his step to wearing some crown or title. You''ve come to the wrong person - I won''t kill your family members to end your family feud, I know who''ll take the fall at the end of the day." "I wish you wouldn''t stereotype," the man replied. He''d regained his composure and put up a poker face that had holes in it. Korran imagined he''d be a bad gambler. "If one dagger of yours breaks do you decide that every single one after will?" Korran scoffed. "My daggers don''t break, your highness. I trust in them with the same trust I place in myself." The man nodded. "Good - because I''m asking you to continue trusting in them - not me. I''m not asking you to kill my father and my goal is not to take position as Duke. I have an older brother who will claim that title instead. My aim is something more up your alley." "How would you know what is up my alley or not?" Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. "Word travels, Dagger of the West." Korran barely concealed his groan. He''d heard great nicknames given for legendary mercenaries, bounty hunters, and the like, but he''d been stuck with something so basic and boring. He couldn''t imagine anyone feeling fear at that title. "Words are easy to fabricate," The Dagger of the West stated. "I''ve glimpsed your dagger," the man replied with a purposeful gaze. "That can not be. And I want to correct what you said earlier; I come humbly, not arrogantly, to offer you a proposition that should be beneficial." The man sure knew how to utilize his tongue, Korran thought to himself. Usually, royalty didn''t bother with diplomacy when dealing with someone of a lower class than them. If they didn''t answer to money, they''d answer to force. "Let''s hear this beneficial proposal then," Korran said, folding his arms. He still had his daggers at the ready to either go on the offensive or defensive but the guy had piqued his interest. In truth, Korran had planned to lay low for a month more or two, but a distraction from his recurring nightmares were welcome. "A robbery of historic magnitude. I plan to put together a team to dupe the Greta Company. Recently, they''ve made a great big haul that was requested from another duke himself. I have it on good information that they''re transporting it by boat and should we learn their route, we can intercept them when they approach land to resupply themselves." The man talked with great passion and Korran couldn''t help again thinking the would-be duke would be terrible at gambling. His emotions rose to the surface so easily - even in the dim torchlight that hardly revealed his face. Korran didn''t let himself get roped into the man''s contagious passion, however. "Did this good information reveal what this big haul was?" The man stepped closer to Korran, caution trumped by his zeal. The torchlight now fully illuminated his face and Korran could see that the large man didn''t look much older than his seventeen years of age, even with a respectable stubble. "Indeed. All sources say that the Greta Company were hunting for the Kaiser''s treasure and it seems they may have found it." Korran''s mind reeled. The Kaiser was a myth...a title given to a man who was said to be able to control the dead. Most didn''t believe it - Korran included, but that was just a matter of exaggeration of history, although people with special abilities did exist. The treasure the Kaiser was said to have left behind always had a possibility of being real and if Greta Company - one of the most famed treasure hunter troupes - had truly gone after it then there was little doubt it was. "I''m no treasure hunter, and I don''t work well in groups," Korran answered honestly. Working in a group was especially dangerous when your target was a treasure. Greed was a man''s worst enemy, yet also a frequent visitor and too easy to get drunk on. The man shrugged as if he''d listed nonsense details. "The treasure has already been hunted. You''re a thief and murderer, and that''s what I need. As for the team, I''ve sought out legends of the crime world rather than noble guards. I''ve ensured to hand-select people with deeper worries than money, which I can assist in resolving." "What''s my deeper worry, then?" Korran asked with a bemused expression. The man smiled like a fisherman who finally got a fish to bite on his line after hours of no luck. "Your freedom, of course. I''m prepared to offer a pardon and pay off your bounty, on top of your share of the loot." "How much would this share be?" "Two million gurdees," came the man''s beaming reply. Korran had merely asked the question out of curiosity since he no longer made money his master, but the amount made him raise an eyebrow. Usually, job leaders didn''t allow their team to have such big shares but this man seemed eager to prove he was decent. Or it could all be a trap. "And who is on this team you speak of?" "Should you accept, we''ll immediately go to meet them. You''re the final piece." Korran studied the man once again. His pupils didn''t shine with the familiar hazed glint of greed, rather they seemed purposeful and focused. It was clear he had some ulterior motive other than riches. Still, Korran couldn''t help but hope his eyes could shine with such brightness one day. "You strike a hard bargain," Korran relented finally. "I''ll decide my position after meeting the rest of this team." The man opened his mouth to object but Korran continued, "I need to ensure that this team is one capable of taking down the Greta Company. I''ve been on my fair share of suicide missions and I''ve decided I want no part in another." The man pondered for a second, his enthusiasm temporarily doused - but he ultimately nodded. "Ok, I can work with that." He offered his hand, "My name is Alaric." Korran took the offered hand. "I''m Korran. None of that Dagger of the West crap." "Very well," Alaric said with an amused smirk. "I have a feeling we''ll get along well, Korran." Korran shrugged, sliding his daggers back into place inside of his sleeves. "As long as I get my pardon, perhaps we will." Truth be told, Korran always found himself wandering aimlessly when he wasn''t on a job, and considering he''d been laying low ever since he''d been set up, it had been a while since his mind was able to focus on something. Friends were a dangerous commodity in his work - both as a weakness and a knife waiting to be embedded in the back - so he kept only accomplices that he didn''t see outside of jobs. As he retreated deeper into his home to retrieve some essentials, he discovered that he hadn''t been able to wholly guard against the city lamb''s passion. An embarrassingly large part of him felt eager to accept the job and fling himself back into action once again. He picked up his small satchel, which he kept packed in case he had to move places quickly, and hurried back to the waiting Alaric. "Let''s see what other circus performers you''ve assembled." Chapter Three On the way down the mountain, Alaric tried to mimic Korran''s silent steps to no avail. Even observing how he stepped up close didn''t reveal any secrets. Were his sandals enchanted by the Gods themselves? The irrational thought seemed more rational than a human simply being that gifted at silence. During their trek through the forestry, Korran stopped suddenly and turned on his heel with a chuckle. "Trying to imitate my steps are you?" Alaric grunted in annoyance at being found out. "How do you do it? I imagine it takes a lot of practice, but I''m a fast learner." "I don''t give out secrets on the first date, Your Highness. I imagine you were brought up with extravagant trainers who were motivated by expenses to share all their tricks with you," Korran responded mockingly. "Are you saying I need only pay you for the lesson?" Alaric asked, ignoring his derision. To Alaric''s surprise, Korran''s face twisted into an offended scowl at the suggestion. "This technique is not so cheap to be paid with gurdees," Korran growled. "It''s paid with blood, sweat, and an unhealthy dose of fear. Alaric held up his hands in a peace-making gesture. "I meant no disrespect." Korran started back walking without another word. Alaric followed, wondering exactly how he''d keep this odd assassin on a short enough leash that he wouldn''t compromise the job''s success. He could already foresee him clashing with another personality on the team. When they''d finally escaped the dense trees and shrubbery in the forest, Korran pivoted on his heel soundlessly and asked, "How far?" "Pretty close now. I ventured to the village alone but I instructed the others to set up camp nearby, in the Jurgeon Plains," Alaric replied without breaking stride so he''d take the lead now. Korran scoffed and Alaric arched an annoyed eyebrow. Would this boy now question him every step of the way? "What now?" he asked him. "Plains are possibly the worst place to camp. You can be seen for miles, which means you can be hunted as well," Korran stated from behind him. It was evident to Alaric the boy didn''t think much of his tactical knowledge. "It''s also a place where your hunters can''t exactly hide," Alaric pointed out. "But forgive me, I haven''t had the experience of being hunted relentlessly by bounty hunters, so I usually don''t make that a forefront of my plans." "You should try it sometime." His monotone voice took on a sense of sincerity. "It keeps you on high alert at all times. Every pedestrian is a potential adversary, every bystander a potential killer; your senses become sharper than a giant''s axe as a result." "Sounds exhausting. It may do you some good joining this team and allowing others to watch your back." Korran chuckled humorlessly. "Having someone watch your back is allowing that person access to your spine unguarded. I''ll pass." Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Alaric sighed. He''d heard the legendary Dagger of the West was ridiculously arrogant and egotistic but he was also ridiculously cautious. Alaric figured that was what it took to survive with such a sizeable bounty on his head. They walked in silence for a while, with further attempts at small talk from Alaric falling on deaf ears since Korran seemed to be deep in thought. Or perhaps that was simply how he always looked. Either way, every time Alaric looked back at the boy, though his glaring eyes were alert his mind seemed to be elsewhere. After making it past the village and getting a clear view of the flat, green plains stretched out before them, Korran finally broke the silence. "How many people in the team are they?" "Six if I count you and I." "And they''re all criminals you said?" Alaric nodded. "I only trust criminals to pull off a job of this magnitude. Nobles tend to lack something within that''s needed to persevere." He noted Korran''s eyebrows raise when he mentioned nobles, as if pointing out that he was speaking of his own kind. Alaric chose to ignore that fact. "They lack the hunger." "Yet you don''t trust the criminals to do the job without your supervision," Korran said. "Would you?" Korran allowed the faintest of grins. "No, but you and I aren''t the same. I''ve seen many kings, dukes and even more direct families attempt to be warriors, mercenaries, assassins and treasure hunters. It usually doesn''t end well. They are built for organized warfare , leading troops with rules attached to the battlefield." His voice shifted into a harsh whisper. "Us common folk don''t have rules and respect; the most dangerous prevails - no matter how cheap their victory is, all that matters is escaping the grave." "I am not bred from this common blood of nobility you speak of," Alaric replied sharply. "I''m capable of being dangerous, if you''d like me to show you." Korran regarded him with an amused look that made Alaric''s blood boil. "Everyone thinks they''re far from average, but not many truly are. Save it for the mission though, Your Highness." Alaric had to genuinely focus to resist taking a swing at the cocky brat. It especially annoyed him because what he was saying wasn''t far-fetched. He''d seen personally how his peers who grew up with their bellies full and sun streaming through mansion windows lacked real ambition, unlike the peasants they looked down on. Alaric felt like he''d be fighting his whole life to not end up in that same boat and here came some slum rat voicing his fears. "Are we going to get going?" Korran asked, looking pleased by whatever he saw on Alaric''s face. He''d never been particularly good at hiding his emotions and the boy seemed to get a kick out of it. Alaric continued forward down the hill bordering the plains without another word with a pleased Korran in tow. His mind was stuck on one of the boy''s sentences in particular. Everyone thinks they''re far from average, but not many truly are. If those words could raise doubts in his mind as they did now, was he really fit to lead a team of extraordinary people? He focused on the low-hanging evening sun which illuminated the plains below, bathing the short grass carpet with its resplendent rays. The humid air attacked the pair as they descended the hill, causing Alaric to wipe a bead of sweat before it danced into his eye. In this distance, the sun hovered just above the horizon, creating an image that far surpassed any painting displayed in the most elaborate museums Alaric had personally attended. He breathed in the fresh aroma of the earth and sighed blissfully. Though he had the privilege of growing up in the upper echelon of a main city, he''d always loved being out in open nature and now - it calmly blanketed him with its comforting warmth, allowing his doubt to settle into the background. Regardless of his fears of being unremarkable, there was much more depending on his success than self-gratification. Even if he had to evolve to become something he wasn''t, he''d accept the good and bad that came with that if it meant he''d achieve his dream. He could feel Korran''s eyes boring into his back but it didn''t make unease seep into his bones as it had before. He quickened his purposeful stride, eager to get the wheels turning in his grand scheme. Eager to make his people safe once more. Chapter Four Korran stared hard at Alaric''s back. He was well aware that a part of himself had been searching for a reason to turn back and deem this job a lost cause before he even met the others. It wasn''t hard to imagine what a goal-driven noble who wanted to see the job done himself would have qualms about. As anticipated, his words had rattled the man but just moments after he''d seemed rejuvenated and once again stepped confidently. He''d tested the man''s mental strength because if they hoped to best a company as cutthroat as the Gretas their leader couldn''t be weak-willed. Korran couldn''t tell if he was pleased or annoyed when his words failed to leave a permanent scar. They traveled the rest of the way in silence with Korran extremely aware of how out in the open he was. Usually, he could calculate his routes beforehand so even if he was caught by surprise he''d be prepared - however, in this instance, a rifleman could shoot at him from out of his daggers'' reach, and he was unaccustomed to the flat terrain. Thankfully, they reached the tent before any onlookers could realize the Dagger of the West was a sitting duck. Korran had spotted the tent from a long way out, considering it was in plain sight. This crew didn''t seem to think much of caution. However, a lone figure had watched their approach, boldly sitting on a large rock stationed in front of the tent and campfire. He brandished a weapon in his hand and Korran realized from a few yards out it was a spear. Korran had killed many a spearman and didn''t think much of their lack of defense without shields, so this revelation did nothing to reassure his risking skepticism. The man did have the demeanor of someone who could get the job done, though. A few years of hunting down people allowed you to be able to read their stances to see if there was the hesitance of an inexperienced killer, or the cold self-assurance of someone who''d flicked off a being''s lights. In some rare cases, even Korran couldn''t get a read on someone. They appeared eerily calm and in this case, Korran believed that it meant they were natural killers who had yet flexed their talents. That was not the case here. The lone spear-bearer stared hard at the pair''s approach. As Korran neared he made note of what the man wore. A grey and white plaid vest peeked out from under a familiar blue armhole jacket. His pants were short but appeared brand new with not a speck of dirt defacing them. Guerdian army uniform. His eyes were deep-set and seemed to be naturally narrowed in disapproving slits as they were now, with a frown to match. "This is the boy called the legendary Dagger of the West?" The man asked incredulously. Now that he''d stopped twirling his spear, Korran thought his right arm appeared much more muscular than his left. Korran scoffed, "This is one of the random barbarians you''ve gathered for such an onerous task? One of the blokes off the streets of Halia would''ve at least appeared more intimidating." The man pointed his spear at Korran with his wolfish nose scrunched up in annoyance. "You''d do well to respect your elders, boy. If you end up dead from my spear then Alaric here would have no choice but to accept you weren''t the man for the job." The man appeared around Alaric''s age despite his rough features and yet he considered himself an elder. Clearly he was in a hurry to be considered an adult. The Guerdian people were known primarily for their proficient merchants, but their army was nothing to disregard. What they lacked in skill they made up for in grit and ruthlessness. As the stories went; pillaging, razing villages, and slaughtering innocents were not beneath the wolfish nose that their people customarily bore. Korran had never personally clashed with one of them, but the short-tempered people were on his radar. "Now, now," came a thundering yet gentle voice from behind the stout Guerdian. "Appearances can be deceiving - you shouldn''t judge off of it." Despite his words, Korran had a hard time not judging the speaker''s appearance. The man cleared seven feet without a doubt in anyone''s mind. His massive hands were placed comfortably behind his head as he leaned back idly - as idle as someone that colossal could appear anyway. He wore a plain grey shirt with simple fabric that somehow managed to contain his burly build. His trousers were made of fur, a pelt that clung to his monolithic legs and swayed gently in the minuscule wind as he made his way over to them. However, what caught Korran''s attention was the man''s necklace; it had a pendant of a metal star, dipped in tar so that it took on a glossy yet dull sheen of midnight black. This was the sign of one of the Curasao tribes. They believed in Gods - beings who existed beyond our plane of existence with the ability to influence the world - and were very superstitious in general. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Korran had once been tasked with killing such a person and though the man defended himself, it was not with the usual fear that a frantic man fought. Even when Korran plunged his dagger into the man''s heart, the man''s gaze had been peaceful - almost forgiving. It had given Korran the creeps but the man had been worth a few Gurdees all the same. Still, the man had a cruel weapon for such a religious figure. His warhammer strapped onto his back was miraculously as large as him and Korran imagined he wouldn''t be able to lift the weapon - much less swing it. The Guerdian chuckled, although he looked wary of the giant. "That''s easy for you to say, now isn''t it, Ardus?" Ardus folded his arms. "It relates to me as well." "Respectfully, I don''t see how," said Korran. "Where is the woman?" Alaric asked. He''d been content to watch the interactions silently but now he seemed eager to speed up the process. "Sleeping, before you ruffians started your chirping," came a voice from the tent. Korran watched as a woman stepped out of the flaps. Straight midnight-sapphire hair cascaded down her shoulder and her eyes were a hypnotizing glacier blue. However, he was more focused on the emblem on her shirt. "Keirsha," Korran stated in a harsh whisper before he could stop himself. The woman in question looked up, something dark flashing beneath her pupils before disappearing. "It''s been a while since someone has recognized this emblem," she said, her voice as hard as granite. "I figure that confirms that you hail from the Kalio clan." To his questioning brow, she added, "They''ve been rumors." Korran knew that they in fact were not rumors but he didn''t press the issue. There were many rumors about him - mostly myths - but none so specific that they''d accurately guess his birth clan. After all, he didn''t outwardly represent them as this woman did hers. "I hope you won''t let our little family feud get in the way of a mission well done," the Keirshan said with a small smile. The rivalry between their clans was in no way a small feud. Dating back a few decades, the Kalio and Kiersha clans were once sister clans, operating in harmony, which was rare - even back then. Predictably, egos eventually clashed, and after a member of the Keirsha clan slayed an elder from the Kalio clan, a brutal war was waged. Even in the present day, the clans avoided each other like the plague which at least kept bloodshed between them to a minimum. Korran met her probing eyes. "I have no interest in Kalio dealings, so I don''t imagine it will be an issue." "We share the same mindset, then." "Except I don''t wear my clan''s logo," Korran responded with more aversion than intended. He''d been programmed to not trust Keirshans, but they were truly sly individuals. The Keirshan shrugged. "I don''t care for my clan, but their emblem does provide certain...benefits." The Guerdian''s chuckle once again drew Korran''s attention. He was already growing sick of that grating sound. "Perhaps the great Dagger of the West should follow your example, Fiona, and wear his clan''s emblem, so he could benefit from proper clothing!" The man didn''t know that under his low-end robe was an outfit with light armor, tailored for his expeditions. Yet, he didn''t feel the need to prove himself to this spear-wielding clown. Korran traced the man''s attire with his eyes and said, "We can''t all benefit from stealing our people''s clothes, now can we, meerkat of the circus." The Guerdian''s face soured and he once again lifted his spear, pointing its blade directly at Korran. "Steal? I''m-" "That''s twice you''ve pointed that inept weapon at me now." Korran interrupted, allowing a warning tone to seep into his voice. "Should it reach thrice, I''ll have your blood nourishing whatever ground you stand on, elder." "That''s enough," Alaric interjected, stepping between the two. "That energy would be better used on working toward our goal. Korran, there''s one more team member that we left at the stables." Alaric''s gaze softened and his tone betrayed a hint of pleading as he said, "Will you be joining us?" Korran felt the weight of everyone''s eyes on him. The wind finally came alive, causing the short stalks of grass to recite their tribal dance. Korran imagined fighting alongside this odd crew of alluring ingredients thrown together in hopes of a golden creation. He figured that it was better than hiding away in a cave - and the pardon was nothing to sniff at, yet a small part of him wondered if he''d liked the image of being among a team. Korran laughed at that part of him. Assassins worked best alone because being let down was impossible - even on joint missions, they focused on their own battles and raced against each other to complete the objective. Teamwork wasn''t a reliable construct because everyone wasn''t born with wide enough shoulders to bear the burden of responsibility. "Korran?" Alaric prodded, dragging him from his thoughts. Korran allowed a grin to decorate his face. "I''m not exactly known for walking away from big paydays. I dare say it''s my weakness." The giant man called Ardus lumbered over to Korran and he stiffened, his hand ready to dig under his robe for a dagger at a moment''s notice. To his surprise, Ardus patted him on the back with a meaty hand and friendly smile, "Atta boy, friend. By the Gods'' will, I imagine we''re in for plenty of fun." "And success," the Keirshan girl murmured. "Aye to that." "To success," Alaric announced, raising his greatsword in the air. The rest followed suit with Ardus managing to raise his colossal Warhammer in the air, the Guerdian raising his spear and the Kiershan raising her fist. Alaric looked to Korran expectedly and he complied, pulling a dagger from the depths of his robe and raising it into the air. "To success!" Chapter Five Alaric couldn''t help the slight grin that teased his lips as he felt the presence of four people behind him. His plan was becoming less far-fetched by the second. Korran and Mathis - the spear-wielding Guerdian, occasionally bickered as the group advanced. Still, Alaric thought it could''ve been much worse. It had been ten minutes of walking before the group was able to make out the tree line in the distance, and an extra eight minutes before they reached it. There, stationed on the very lip of the edge was the last member of the team. Usually, Alaric would have qualms about leaving a lone female to guard their horses for a whole day, but this particular female had a friend. Korran had been in the middle of responding to another jab by Mathis when he caught sight of this friend. Even though Alaric had been watching him, he could scarcely tell where the assassin pulled the two daggers that materialized in the boy''s grasp as he crouched down low in a defensive position. The friend in question snorted, which Alaric took as a sign of his amusement. He still wasn''t well versed in deciphering the cues the massive white wolf gave. A petite girl, almost as pale as the wolf, approached from the shrubbery. "Th-there''s no need for weapons," she said softly. Korran''s face twisted in confusion, but he made no move to sheath his weapons. The wolf sat on its haunches as the girl patted it and whispered softly in its ears. Alaric was eager to diffuse the situation. "As you can see, this girl is a-" "Witch," Korran interrupted, his face morphing into one of disgust. He straightened up then, still refusing to hide his blades from view. The timid girl''s eyes shot up at that, her hazel eyes catching the sun as they flashed with indignant rage. Next to her, the white wolf bristled, a low snarl emanating from his chest. "I am not a witch," the girl said steadily, emotion leaking through her words. "I was going to say a Pateral," Alaric offered calmly, hoping his tone would lighten the sudden intensity that cracked in the air. Paterals were humans with special abilities, and this small, timid girl who seemed ready to blow away with a strong gust of wind, was one of the most potent charmers in the nation. Her talent allowed her to foster a young adult wolf, taming him when charmers usually needed to imprint on a pup, especially when the target was something as formidable as a wolf. "That''s what those who benefit from their existence call them," Korran replied, not breaking eye contact with the wolf. "It''s nothing but a made up term." Alaric sighed. "Well, you''re about to benefit a whole lot from one''s existence." Korran''s eyes widened as realization dawned on his face. "You can''t be serious; you''ve already got a jester with a spear, now you''re pairing that with a witch? What happens when her control slips?" Alaric''s brow creased as his patience began to wear thin. He''d been warned about the difficulty of making people get along practically his whole life. Yet, growing up in a city where all types of races resided and his only real foes were political enemies, he couldn''t relate to such innate hatred. "I''ve handpicked each individual here based on their ability - just as I did you. If you were to give them a chance I''m sure you''d realize they can be dependable," Alaric said, causing Korran''s face to darken at the idea. "What''s your problem with Paterals, anyway?" Ardus asked. The giant man had easily hoisted their bundles of tents all the way on his shoulders. As it turned out, he made a good camel substitute. Alaric had learned that members of the Carusao tribes thought of Paterals as having been blessed by the Gods, hence their abilities; thus they were evidence of the existence of these Gods, so he wasn''t surprised to hear defense in the man''s tone. "They fight cowardly and incorrectly. Their style is unnatural - it leaves no space for the skill exchange of battle." Alaric was surprised to hear the passion in the boy''s voice. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it "Cowardly," Mathis mocked. "Says the assassin tasked with taking out most people before they realize death is upon them." "My techniques allow for someone of achievable skill to detect and evade them," Korran responded with a briefly subtle glance at Alaric, "Paterals rely on rare supernatural abilities. If you''d like a demonstration, I''d be happy to humor you - though I suspect your skill is so scant, I''d look like a Pateral myself." "It''s a prejudice of his clan," stated the Kiershan woman Fiona. She had a habit of blending in the background in conversations, but should you remember her presence you''d find her listening intensely to every word. In truth, she reminded Alaric of the many spies that had been caught plotting against his family. "He wears no emblem of the Kalio clan," she continued, "and renounces them with his mouth, yet their values are still ingrained into his being." Korran''s glare turned to the woman. "If that were the case, do you truly believe you''d be able to speak the name of my clan in my presence, Kiershan?" He spat out the last word as if it was an insult. Alaric didn''t need to be a thermometer to sense the temperature rising. Even the birds had stopped their late evening squawking as the gloom of rising conflict drifted upward from powerful individuals. It was upsetting how easily humans could taint nature''s skin with their unholy blood over carelessly petty trivialities. "Enough!" Alaric yelled, channeling the man who had raised him. Leading with a loud voice and heavy hand had hurt his father, drained him - but all too often he''d found it necessary, despite his kind nature and Alaric was unfortunately beginning to understand why. "While we sit here arguing like jobless toddlers our target drifts farther and farther out of reach. We''re operating on a strict, precarious schedule and every minute must be purposeful for the stars to bid us well." A slight exaggeration; Alaric had accounted for more delays than he''d experienced, so he was still slightly ahead of his planned schedule - but a needed exaggeration nonetheless. "So, Korran, if you''re so scared of the female Pateral - Petra, and her charge that you must leave, do so while the moon is still marked absent," Alaric finished grimly. He hoped that he hadn''t laid it on too thick, because in reality, there was no planned replacement for someone so capable of stealth and power in the same breath. Korran snorted and said, "Fear of this girl and her domesticated mutt is not the concern. Rather, I''ve witnessed a witch gone rogue firsthand. What''s to happen if this lady meets the same fate?" Alaric twiddled his thumbs beneath his tattered robe nervously. Truthfully, that had been a cause for worry for him as well. He''d been taught that Paterals fed on their emotion in some way to strengthen their abilities. In some cases where their emotions became too intense, their abilities became too much for the human mind to handle and they went ''rogue''. Alaric had never personally witnessed this, but they were said to be mindless beings craving destruction. "That is not my fate," the timid girl said with an air of certainty. Her canine companion seemed to grunt his agreement, his eyes never leaving Korran. "Well, as long as you''re sure," Korran replied sarcastically. "You shouldn''t always expect the worst to happen," Ardus'' deep voice boomed sternly. "If you do, it may indeed come through." Korran wasn''t convinced. "Wrong. You should always expect the worst to happen so you can be prepared." Alaric noted with relief that despite his continued grievances, Korran didn''t make a move to leave. "As much as I''d enjoy hearing your continued moral ramblings, we have a job to do gentlemen." "Aye, that we do," the easygoing Ardus agreed. The group only needed to walk a couple of feet before they spotted their Morgan horses lined up where they''d left them. Alaric eagerly approached his personal steed. He had to walk past other horses that to an untrained eye seemed identical, but Alaric could recognize his Alpha''s beady black, kind eyes anywhere. He''d named the stallion, which was a birthday gift on his tenth birthday, and he hadn''t ridden another horse since. Now, Alpha craned his neck toward Alaric, nuzzling his head into his hand as Alaric caressed him. "Where to now?" Mathis asked as he mounted his own Morgan. Alaric had handpicked the other horses from the royal stable, so they were well-trained and prepared to cater to even beginner riders. "Hiedel Harbor, the last known place the Greta Company touched down in," Alaric replied. "You plan for us to do some snooping around there?" Fiona asked incredulously. "Not exactly," Alaric replied cryptically as he mounted Alpha. He patted his thick mane before taking the reigns. He noticed Korran staring hesitantly at the stallion that had been left for him. The others followed Alaric''s gaze. Mathis couldn''t resist a jab. "Not so tough when face to face with a big bad horse, are we?" Petra''s white wolf made a huffing sound that Korran seemed to take for the canine version of laughter - judging by his scowl. He mounted his horse by leaping on its back, rather than climbing up like a normal person, and for a second Alaric worried that despite the Morgan''s good training, he''d throw him off. Thankfully for the uneasy Korran, the horse stayed docile as he gripped the reins and once again glanced at the wolf. "You know, I''ve always heard wolf meat is tough and stringy with a repulsive odor and taste alike - but I figure a little seasoning from my twin blades would quell any complaints from my stomach." Chapter Six Korran hated the feeling of riding the beast man called a horse. Firstly, whether they were trotting or galloping, their hooves made way too much noise for his liking. As someone who''d grown up learning that silence was the best way to avoid or win against his enemies, each snap of a twig under the heavy hoof sent a pang to his heart. Secondly, the damn ride was bumpier than a toad. It didn''t help that the damn wolf kept looking back at him, almost as if it expected him to attack its precious owner any minute now. Korran didn''t even know how the damn beast didn''t have the horses in a fright, considering it practically reached their chests on all fours. Despite his hands clutching the reigns he kept his hand ready to spring into action should the mutt lunge. His attitude certainly hadn''t made friends out of the team but that didn''t bother him. What worried him most was the possibility that everyone''s abilities weren''t at the level Alaric made them out to be. He mentioned that he''d handpicked them himself, but people didn''t always live up to expectations when the time came. Ahead, Alaric halted, pulling his horse diagonally to face them. Korran noted that the man seemed at home on horseback, which wasn''t surprising considering his position. "We have a decision to make," said Alaric, glancing briefly at each person in turn. "Up ahead there''s a small village," he motioned to the sky which was started to betray the dark coat of the night, "we can find an inn and settle down ''till morn or we can continue onward into the night and set up camp in the morning along Soarth Peaks." "Um...won''t the forest be dangerous at night?" The wolf''s owner who Korran had heard called Petra, asked in her usual timid voice. "Everywhere is dangerous at night," Alaric answered truthfully. "I agree with the lady," Ardus'' voice thundered. "Nowhere is completely safe, but the forest especially so. Plus, we''re all more likely to be more productive after a good night''s sleep - this what the Gods intended." Alaric looked to Fiona and she just shrugged, her sapphire hair bobbing distractingly. "It doesn''t bother me either way." Mathis was a bit more direct. "I''m not scared of the dark. If time is priority, let''s not waste a moment conquering these woods." Alaric chuckled before his eyes landed on Korran. Korran looked at him pointedly, hoping he''d pick up on his meaning. "I don''t think the villages around here are very...safe. Too many people with no business to mind, except others." "We''ll be careful not to attract attention," Alaric replied with a nod of understanding. Korran was a wanted man. The heftier the price of a bounty, the farther word traveled - and his bounty was indeed sizeable. In truth, Korran was more than eager to get off the horse. "Very well, then." "It''s settled then," Alaric announced with a dismissive wave of his hand, turning his horse forward with just a tug of the reins. "We''ll look for lodging in the upcoming village - which if my estimate is correct, should only be a couple of feet away. From what I remember, they welcome visitors, but as Korran pointed out, it''s best we don''t attract attention to ourselves." Mathis scoffed. "You think they''ll be able to give us trouble?" Ardus shifted on top of his stallion. His horse was noticeably bigger than the others, so Alaric must''ve planned ahead for him. Still, Korran couldn''t help but feel a twinge of pity at the poor beast doomed to carry such a colossal encumbrance. "When a path without violence presents itself you should take it," Ardus lectured. "Agreed," Alaric chimed in before Mathis could reply. Mathis bit back whatever reply he was planning and just dipped his head. The army man was accustomed to being an obedient mutt - much like the wolf at their side. Korran''s hair on his arm clawed up from his pores as he felt the eerie feeling of being watched. A sharp glance to the right revealed the culprit. The moonlight had started to pierce the cloudless sky and radiate its peaceful glow below. This glow illuminated the harsh blue orbs that stared intently at him, sending an embarrassing chill down his spine. Fiona held his gaze for a moment longer before looking away. Korran felt a scowl twist his lip. For the others, he had doubts about their abilities, but he knew that Fiona would be competent because she was Kiershan - a female Kiershan at that, but he doubted he''d ever trust her. Sure enough, the village wasn''t far, like Alaric had said. The entrance was just a shoddy wooden fence with a wooden gate that more resembled the entrance to a struggling farm than an upstanding village. "Best not to startle the villagers with your wolf," Alaric said to Petra. Petra pouted. "His name''s Wulfur." How creative, Korran thought. "But maybe you have a point," continued Petra with a defeated sigh. She crouched so that she was at eye level with the massive ''Wulfur'' and cradled his head, whispering softly to him. When she''d finished, Wulfur licked her hand once then bounded away. "He''ll stay around the perimeter out of sight. If I whistle he''ll come running though...if we''re in trouble." "Impressive," commented Ardus, causing Petra to blush. A local was all too eager to reveal the whereabouts of both the stables and the most popular Inn the village offered. The village was pretty large and much more populated than Haila had been. "Charming," Alaric chimed when they''d reached the inn. Its sign featured skulls and crossbones with a wooden slate attached and Sow''s Inn engraved into its face. However, compared to what Korran was accustomed to - he found the inn to be pretty large, and the locals hadn''t exaggerated by calling it popular. Korran had expected Alaric to seek out a more discreet inn, but he realized the man was probably after quality. Seems he missed the plush pillows from whatever mansion he had come from. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. "Howdy, friends!" A man chimed from behind a bar counter after the group had navigated through a series of crowded tables. The patrons were so rowdy that they barely gave them a second glance, which Korran was grateful for. Regardless, he felt like he was completely out in the open. "How may I be of service?" "We''d like six rooms for the night, and some supper if you don''t mind," Alaric said, his tone much too proper in such a setting. The bartender paused briefly then slapped six keys on the table. "Thirty-five Gurdees per room, and supper will be an extra fifty." Korran noticed him making brief eye contact with a beefy bloke stationed at the stairs and he inched closer. "Madness!" shrieked Mathis. The man had clearly driven up the price after hearing how Alaric spoke. "You must think this crap hole is a darn hotel! Thirty-five gurdees for a night? I imagine that''d be the price of your head, friend." The bartender smiled sweetly, but his tone grew an edge of warning. "I haven''t forced you to come into my fine establishment, have I? But I do imagine if there''s a problem we can sort it out, men to men." Thankfully Mathis'' outburst didn''t draw the attention of the full room - loud as the idiots were - but Korran didn''t have to think hard on whose side they would take if a fight was to break out. Alaric nudged Mathis with his elbow. "No problem here," he said, producing the ninety gurdees with the ease of a noble. "We''ll take the rooms." "Splendid!" The bartender made the gurdees disappear from the counter without as much of a sound. "You''ll have to go up to your rooms and remove your weapons before you''re served, friends. My bud there Vlickeksy will be making sure you didn''t forget to remove any when you come back down, yes?" Alaric motioned for Mathis to lead the way up the stairs and he obeyed solemnly. Vlickeksy seemed to especially take an interest in Fiona as she passed, his eyes following her movement up the stairs. Ardus, who was next in line, stomped his foot harder than he needed to - almost causing the man to jump out of his skin. Vlickeksy turned to glare at him, but quickly averted his eyes with the massive Ardus glowering down at him. Some security, thought Korran. To reach the hallway that hosted the Inn''s rooms, the group had to travel through a doorway at the top of the stairs with no door. In the hallway, wall torches were lit at various intervals to create an orange ambiance that caressed hung up paintings of nature and a red wallpaper. Korran found it lavish - though the others may not have been as impressed. Alaric handed out the keys at random, instructing his team to obey the request to leave their weapons in the room. Korran nodded along with the others, although there was no way in hell he was doing that. Despite the hallway and large bar area, the room was what you''d expect from an inn. It was tiny, and cozy, with the only furniture being a bed and wooden chair. There was a single curtainless window which allowed the moonlight to grace the small room offering. Korran dropped two daggers and his satchel down on the bed, keeping numerous on his person. The squirrelly Vlickeksy''s eyes widened in anticipation when he saw Fiona leading the line down the steps, but an award worthy glare kept his twitchy fingers at bay. Petra was eager to stick behind Fiona and evade the man''s search with a worried expression. He might''ve sensed her weakness and demanded her be searched, if not for the vigilant Ardus being next in line. He thoroughly searched the males, grumbling all the while under his breath about foreigners and lack of respect. His hands came close to finding Korran''s daggers a few times, but he ultimately failed to discover them - hidden as they were. Vlickeksy pointed them to a table that seated six, a bit away from the heart of the crowd and Korran silently thanked Lady Luck. He made sure to sit facing away from the crowd, which put him between Alaric and Petra. There was no menu to pick from, instead after five minutes, six steaming bowls of some sort of chicken soup were slammed down on their table. The others, excluding Petra, called for pints of rum - but Korran decided on water. He hated how beer made him feel, how it dulled his ever important senses. Mathis seemed to have the opposite approach, judging by his thirst for the bitter beverage - which Korran eagerly attributed to his senses already being dull. Korran noticed that Mathis'' glassy eyes kept being drawn to the noisiest table while they ate, where they were playing a game of poker and gambling. Eventually, the Guerdian finally built up enough confidence to stand from his half-finished soup. "I figure I''ll go get on a game or two," he said in a somehow coherent series of slurring. Ardus grabbed his hand before he could push off from the table. Mathis seemed to attempt shaking off the man''s hand, but neither his nor the giant''s hand moved an inch. "I''m not sure that''s a good idea," Ardus declared. "Who died and made you the boss?" Mathis asked with a deep scowl. Korran had the distinct feeling if it was anyone else he might''ve tried hitting them. Or perhaps he was just missing his ridiculous spear. "Last I checked, you don''t have the authority to order me around." Ardus looked to Alaric who averted his eyes. Korran suspected it was fear of getting on Mathis'' wrong side, rather than ignorance that caused Alaric to avert his eyes. He was trying to please everyone, but keeping everyone content at all times was a foolish task. Ardus released his hold with a grunt and Mathis offered him one more drunken glare before staggering over to the table. "I''ll ensure he doesn''t start a bar fight," said a standing Fiona. She slinked away after Alaric muttered his thanks. If Ardus didn''t respect his decision, he didn''t show it, instead refocusing on the grub in front of him. Korran and Ardus were the only one who seemed unperturbed by the sketchy looking chicken soup that was much too slimy. Judging by the Mathis'' loud voice, his Guerdian accent now thickened with his slurring - it didn''t take long for him to be acquainted at the table. No doubt the locals figured some drunk foreigner was about to fatten their pockets. Korran tuned them back out, focusing on his soup and cup of water. Truthfully, the soup was horrible, but he wolfed it down all the same. On some of his training days, he''d been starved nearly to death. That particular experience seemed to unlock a new appreciation for food within him - no matter how unappealing it may look or taste. It didn''t take long for Mathis to start making trouble. The Guerdians were commonly focused and easily disciplined people - that is, until they wetted their tongues. Things became a little complicated then. "Why, you take me for a fool, don''t ya?!" Mathis'' voice was now raised the loudest Korran had heard it. It was loud enough that even the other patrons stopped to stare. He must''ve not liked the other person''s response because Mathis stood up abruptly, knocking over his chair and almost his wobbly self in the process. "You''re cheating you piggish bloke!" Fiona stood, putting a hand on Mathis'' chest. The person he seemed to be shouting at just stared up at Mathis with an amused expression - well accustomed to the drunken rage of fools falling into his trap. His nose really did look like a snout, and his wide baloonish shape made Mathis'' insult comically accurate. Mathis suddenly reared back, a cocky grin surfacing as he swiped away Fiona''s hand and jabbed a finger in the direction of his companions'' table. "Don''t you worry Fiona, eh? It won''t be me teaching this slimy pig a lesson. It''ll be the big bad Dagger of the East! Don''t mind his wittle height, only his might, eh?" It felt like every eye in the tavern turned to their table, eventually finding Korran who was the shortest male present. Anger boiled in his chest that he could scarce restrain. When he was done killing every man brave enough to come after his head, he''d make sure to construct a belt out of the moronic Guerdian. Chapter Seven Korran met the inquisitive stares of the men with glares. He was already marking the men who seemed strongest in his head, visualizing the maneuvers he''d have to do to get to them quickest. "What are you babbling on about, you jester?" Alaric roared suddenly with a chuckle. "My little brother the Dagger of the East? I warned you to drink only your fill and nothing more, less you start making tales too tall for our own good!" He turned to address the hushed room now. "My bad, folks, I''m afraid I need to shorten this man''s leash." A few chuckles arose while a few more just shook their heads. After all, Alaric was a compelling actor. Though, it wasn''t lost on Korran how some stares lingered. Alaric moved toward a confused Mathis and made a signal with his hands. Fiona seemed to understand because she smoothly stepped closer to Mathis and stuck him with a minute needle. The Keirsha clan was well known for their proficiency with poison - which was thought to be one of the main reasons Kalio training was so focused on becoming resistant to most, so Korran wasn''t surprised to see Mathis slump forward after the injection. Korran suspected it was some non-lethal sedative on its tip. Alaric reached the pair in time to catch Mathis before he hit the ground. "Ah, a woman who knows how to deal with men subjugated by the devil''s cup," said the accused ''pig'' with an exaggerated drawl. "Perhaps I oughta learn yer name and take ya for a tussle, ya know?" "Not unless you intend to lose the fingers you use to play fools," Fiona replied without missing a beat. The man seemed flustered - then enraged - if the sudden protruding forehead veins were any indication. No man in such a small village would be accustomed to a woman with a tongue so bold. The Keirsha clan had an interesting dynamic; women were the most likely to become assassins in the class, rather than men who were usually the main source of fighters, no matter the type. However, what the women lacked in strength they made up for in deception, and that was the focus of Keirshans. Alaric professionally guided his hand into the small of Fiona''s back, pushing her just enough to lead her away and put himself between the man and her. "We''ll be getting out of your hair then," said Alaric. Korran was ahead of him, walking briskly without sound to the stairs. A few curious gazes followed him, but most seemed to believe he couldn''t be the man with such a bounty on his head. After all, he was just a teen. Truth be told, Korran didn''t hate the feeling of being continuously underestimated. ? ©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤ ??? ? ??? ©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤ ? Korran was surprised to see everyone downstairs at the break of dawn. They''d only planned to meet downstairs, but didn''t decide on a synchronized time. He hadn''t even been sure the wasted Guerdian could understand the instruction at the time, but sure enough, he was downstairs at the table - sitting normally and looking as healthy as he did before they entered the village. Korran suspected this had less to do with the sedative and more with his body''s familiarity with being in that state. He made sure to shoot a particularly venomous glare the man''s way when their eyes briefly met. "We''ll have to hold back on our alcohol consumption for the rest of the mission," Alaric said once they were outside, not needing to mention Mathis in particular for everyone to know who he meant. Mathis sighed aloud. "Understood, boss. I just don''t get why you''re so protective of this guy though, if he''s as harmless as he looks, what''s the point of him joining us?" Korran was very tempted to show him just how fast his harmless dagger could move. "Alaric said not to attract attention," Ardus said. "What you did was exactly that." Korran suspected no one except Alaric knew of his bounty - though Fiona was a possibility. Mathis grunted his acknowledgment and stayed quiet the rest of the way, which was just as well, considering Korran was growing tired of holding back the urge of making him pay. "Onward now, folks. We should be at the harbor by night, that''ll be prime time to conduct our business," Alaric said in a bit of a humming tone when they''d retrieved their horses and mounted them. Korran did not miss the beast. When they once again walked through the entrance gateway - which also served as an exit, the guard was awake this time around and stared hard at them as they left. He smelled of the devil''s drink himself and stale breath wafted over the group when he muttered an unenthusiastic good morning. Upon leaving the guard''s view, Petra''s friend, Wulfur walked out from a thicket. He had fresh blood splattered on his muzzle and fiercely focused eyes. Korran gulped involuntarily at the sight. "He went hunting," Petra explained to the many worried glances. She fearlessly reached down to pat Wulfur, though her horse needed some reassuring. That damn beast will soon decide to hunt us, Korran thought, though he didn''t voice his worries. Alaric led them back into the forest. Korran found himself admiring Alaric''s knowledge of the land. He''d chosen the spot because it was so remote; showing up on most maps as a large patch of forests bordered by various peaks. The small villages in between weren''t visible on maps. Still, Alaric would''ve had access to much more advanced and updated maps - but Korran still thought the feat deserved a measure of respect. On they went, deeper and deeper into the sunbathed forestry, with the limbs of massive trees preventing the sun''s budding assault. After about an hour, Korran started to feel the unmistakable ghastliness of unseen eyes. Just as he was cycling through his memory to remember how to make the darn beast go faster, Petra''s head whipped around to Wulfur who''d stopped to sniff the air. The two creepily stared at each other for a moment, then Petra brought her horse to a halt. "Wulfur thinks we''re being followed," she announced, fear present in her voice and the tact Korran was planning absent. She''d likely just alerted whoever was watching them. Alaric brought his own horse to a halt, turning to show a slightly worried expression. "You''re sure?" Petra nodded solemnly in response. "Maybe it''s some of those villagers who heard your accent and think they''re tough enough to shake you down," Mathis offered in a whisper. "Well, let them try," he added, sliding his spear off his back and brandishing it. Ardus hopped off his horse suddenly with a loud thud and crouched down, pressing his ear to the earth''s floor. The rest watched in stunned silence as the man stiffened, his eyes taking on a nebulous glow. "There''s a lot," he stated after a full minute of awkward silence, "Too many footsteps for just some brave villages'' venture, I''d figure." "You can tell that from putting your ear in the mud?" Korran asked genuinely, his interest piqued. If accurate enough, it''d make hunting the man a bit complicated - should he ever have to. "Aye, the earth carries entire stories in the vibrations that address it - ''specially if they are grouped together. A man needs only be humble enough to offer an ear." Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. "Shouldn''t we be moving quickly then?" Petra asked, reeking of nervousness. Korran worried about how she''d perform in battle. "No, running isn''t much of an option," said Alaric with a thoughtful look. "This is a bottleneck path which will leave us will lead us wide open to ambushes." "Alaric''s got the right idea," Korran commented grimly. If these guys know what they''re doing, they''ll follow us at arm''s length, keeping their presence noticeable while waiting for us to wear down. We''ll be scared to sleep, and sleep deprivation will lead to a weakened state that they''ll take advantage of." "Sounds like you''re speaking from experience," Fiona said dryly. "And what if I am?" Alaric cleared his throat loudly. "We''ll continue until we reach a clearing where we''ll have space to maneuver, then we''ll take up a stand and find out what they''re after. If there''s an opportunity to avoid fighting and wasting more time - we''ll take it." No complaints arose from the team and Alaric continued down the path much slower than before. Korran now surveyed the underbrush as they walked, each rustling brush holding the possibility of harboring an assailant behind it. It didn''t take very long for them to come to a small clearing and for Alaric to bring his steed to a stop. His expression was all business-like now, as Korran had seen it back in the cave when he''d startled him. The man had a knack for switching from the diplomatic noble to a warrior worthy of carrying a greatsword in the blink of an eye. It was different for Korran; he needed to stay at one wavelength, always prepared for things to go tits-up. That was how life on the run had conditioned him. Truthfully, it''s how he had been conditioned from birth with the amoral training he had been subjected to. The six individuals waited anxiously, each second feeling like a minute and each minute a lifetime. Just as the expressive Guerdia prepared to make some remark, the overhead trees started to shake. Slowly at first, just enough to alert everyone that it was unnatural, but it quickly rose in pitch, until leaves started falling in clusters as if an army was stampeding on the branches. Korran cursed and drew his daggers. A lot seemed like an understatement. Still, he pushed the thought away, unwilling to make a definite judgment yet - after all, it could''ve been a strategy to make themselves look like more than they were. "There''s so many," Petra whispered in a shakey voice. "Hush," Fiona hissed. "Stop showing fear, it''ll only make you look harmless." The rustling continued, stretching further until it encircled the entire clearing. In a practiced swoop, they had been surrounded. Three men dared to reveal their faces from their perch on one of the trees. Korran groaned as he made out a familiar face; a man in the middle who grinned, despite missing a front tooth and his other being golden. His clothes were tattered from being caught on branches and the like, but he carried a rapier which appeared to be in mint condition. "Ho there! Going for a stroll, eh? Seems we''re heading in the same direction, would ya mind if we tagged along?" "This is Nolan, the leader of a successful bandit group," Korran whispered under his breath. Everyone had instinctively drifted to the middle. Wulfur stood next to Petra, growling up at the three men. Alaric digested the information in a second and was speaking in the next. "We''ve no merchandise worth all this trouble here, gentlemen. However, from what I''ve seen, should you head far west of here - carriages carrying noble folks are abundant." Nolan chuckled, turning to the man on his left and pointing lazily at Alaric. "Fancies himself intelligent, doesn''t he? Telling us hard-working men how to do our job with his posh city crow accent." He turned back, his grin replaced by a humorless smile. "Well, witty crow, I believe there''s a single piece of merchandise down there worth more than the loot of twenty of your damn carriages put together - so I do say the trouble is worthwhile." Everyone except for Alaric and Korran looked around in confusion and Nolan''s eyes widened with glee at the sight. "Oh? Keeping secrets from fellow travelers? How mean!" He let out another raspy chuckle and Korran imagined a dagger slicing through the man''s windpipe. "That rascal clutching his puny daggers as if they can reach me is currently worth five hundred thousand gurdees." The resulting silence was louder than a banshee''s scream. Korran swore even Wulfur stopped his snarling to regard Korran with curious eyes. Korran gritted his teeth; now that his secret was out, he imagined all of his nights would be as restless as the last, always wondering if someone would decide that they preferred the quick money that didn''t include going up against the fearsome Greta company. Korran noticed Alaric refusing to meet anyone''s eyes, his brows furrowed in a classic portrait of frustration. No doubt he was thinking about the team''s synergy - if there would be any left after this encounter. "So that''s why you reacted like that back at the inn," Fiona said with a satisfied snap of her fingers, as if Alaric''s reaction had been bugging her. "I''d think it''s important to let us know of conditions that can put us in danger." "I''d think so too, sweet-pie," Nolan said in a sing-song voice. "It''s nigh-time we stop drawing out this little dance. Hand over the so called Dagger of the West and me and my boys will be as civil as your people back home, boy." Korran glanced up at the eyes peeking through the branches of the trees surrounding the clearing. He still couldn''t get an exact number but he estimated they were north of fifty people poised to jump down and attack at once. He racked his brain for a solution, his imagination fabricating scenarios then dispersing them when he found a hole, until... Korran walked forward boldly and none of his peers made any effort to stop him. Typical. "Come get me then, Toothless." Nolan raised a suspicious eyebrow, then after a heartbeat, broke into full-winded laughter. Korran continued, unperturbed, "You''ve been trying to make a name for yourself, coming up with lousy titles that never stick for what feels like ages now. If you drag me to the Guildhall and claim my bounty perhaps that will change." Nolan rolled his eyes. "That''s the plan, yes. I will be referred to as Nolan, the Rapier Devil." It was Korran''s turn to roll his eyes but he managed to quell the urge. "However, you won''t earn that title by relying on a horde of men for one man. I''ll give you the opportunity to earn that title, Toothless. I challenge you to a duel." Nolan shifted uncomfortably and Korran could just make out a bulge traveling down his throat as he gulped. "Scared now, are we?" he asked with false bravado. "Take me for a right fool - he does. The moment I step down there his friends will join in." Korran almost smiled at the irony of his concern but instead he cast a meaningful glance in the direction of his ''friends'' and they readily walked to the edge of the clearing. Only Alaric hung behind for a second. "Good luck," he muttered, both with his mouth and large eyes. His eyes seemed to be pleading for everything to turn out okay. Korran turned back to Nolan. "What now? You have all your men gathered here. No doubt you''ve told them stories of your heroics, now is a chance to have them bear witness." Korran allowed his lips to curl into a taunting grin, "Unless you''re scared of these puny daggers?" Nolan grimaced, realizing he was caught in Korran''s hastily thrown net. A bandit group wasn''t the same as an army, where patriotism played a role in obedience and any seditious behavior was easily punished. A bandit group - especially one as big as this one - was made up of villagers tired of fighting for scraps, rogues exiled from their clans, and warriors banished from their posts. The quick life of crime, free from the reigns of society''s expectations and partnered with similar agents of unfortunate circumstances was enticing to many. To lead such a group required a healthy dose of fear and an even healthier fountain of respect. Any cracks in the bowl containing this mixture and ambitious criminals would start biting at the bit to take their place at the front of the pack. Korran had planted the seed of doubt now, and any refusal on his part would water it. "Very well," Nolan said finally. The man on his right gripped his shoulder and whispered in his ear. "Fear not, friend," Nolan said loudly, playing to his crowd, "the poster said dead or alive. I only hope I remember that this boy needs to remain identifiable." The crowd of bandits perched on various branches had been holding their breath but now they erupted into cheers at their leader''s words. Leaves showered down on Korran as their excitement shook them loose. Nolan leaped down from the tree, landing on all fours in a crouched position - his gaze predatory as he surveyed Korran. "It didn''t have to be like this, boy." Korran had once traveled with Nolan years ago, when he sought cover to hide his trail. The man had accepted him into his group on the condition that he earned his keep, and ear his keep he had - pillaging along the hardened men, who were merrier than any criminal group he''d ever encountered. "Yet it is," Korran said simply, scraping his daggers together in preparation. It had been a bit since he''d cut loose - outside of his accursed dreams. He was already visualizing how he''d maneuver around the man''s rapier. The man was known for his speed, but Korran was sure he would be faster yet. Nolan gave a resigned nod - decades of a dangerous life allowing him to clear his head at will. "Let''s get on with it then, eh?" Before he had finished his sentence Korran had cleared half the distance between them. Nolan quickly transitioned into a neutral stance, his right foot skidding forward and shoulder turned with his rapier extended outward. His tongue delicately caressed the space between his teeth as he keenly watched the blur that was Korran, his rapier''s point directly in line with where he estimated the boy''s chest would be. Even in full flight, the damn brat''s footsteps were made of silk, so he placed his full trust into his eyesight, braving the charge until his instinct took over and his eyes gauged the time was right. He thrust his rapier forward then, sure that the boy couldn''t avoid it at the speed his short feet traveled. Chapter Eight Korran watched the blade inch closer and closer to his face. Nolan''s face was lined with concentration as he guided his blade toward Korran''s heart, but death''s fear didn''t visit Korran''s soul. He twisted his upper body out of the way of the oncoming rapier, crouching low as his momentum carried him to his target - Nolan''s unprotected stomach. A deep enough slice and this would be over quickly, without him having to reveal too many techniques to his potential new adversaries. Things didn''t go quite as he envisioned though. Nolan brought up a knee that completely caught Korran by surprise as it slammed into his chest. He drew back with an ''oomph'' - not a second too late, as Nolan had redirected his rapier to connect where Korran had been a moment before. Korran nearly lost his footing as he struggled to catch the breath that eluded him, but in the midst of battle, almost was more than enough opening and Nolan was seasoned. He closed the distance, jabbing his blade forward with precision. Korran stopped trying to find his balance, focusing on parrying the strike instead, falling down as he guided the rapier away with his dagger. His parry sent Nolan''s hand far to the left and the unexpectedness of it pulled him off balance, allowing Korran to fall without a follow-up attack from the bandit. However, seeing the opening, as soon as his body hit the ground he had already repositioned himself to spring at Nolan. Nolan regained his composure and prepared to once again meet Korran''s charge, but his eyes gave away his aim and Korran easily eluded the swing, darting to the left and once again slashing with his dagger. It had been a while since one of his daggers tasted human blood, nourishing the earth as it dripped from its tip. His dagger had sliced an arc in Nolan''s stomach but he had awkwardly jumped back, lessening the depth of the cut. Nolan cursed under his breath, his eyes turning into angered slits but he remained standing. He bent over slightly but Korran suspected it was not enough to slow him down. The man was as fast as advertised, but Korran''s subconscious nagged at him. Nolan''s footwork wasn''t bad per se, but it was not at the level of his swordsmanship. Not planning to draw out the fight long enough to find a more pronounced weakness, Korran prepared to take up the least complicated strategy available. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Overwhelm the bandit leader. Korran unceremoniously dashed toward the man again and this time, Nolan moved to meet his charge, a deep fury shaking his pupils. With his weapon''s superior reach, Nolan was able to attack first - a piercing strike that Korran sidestepped. Nolan had adjusted to Korran''s great speed and agility, however, and followed up with a series of unrelenting attacks. Korran was forced on the defensive, every block or parry from his daggers only seeming to fuel the man''s next attack. Despite Nolan''s flurry, instead of advancing he was the one being pushed back after every successful block by Korran''s daggers. The man, though skilled, was clearly not used to one-on-one fighting against an even or stronger opponent. Bandits were opportunists, not risk-takers, and his occupation left him unpolished in direct singular combat. In a move betraying impatience, Korran tried to block the next jab with more force and create an opening; instead, his dagger slid off the lightweight sword, and Nolan''s eyes flashed with anticipation as he spun, driving his sword into the gut of Korran...or where it had been a second ago. Korran shifted just enough to only be grazed by the blade, blinking away the pain that blossomed as the sword chipped away some skin. Nolan had overcompensated on the attack, and now he was on his toes. In a moment he noticed his mistake and struggled to shift back into a position he could defend from - but he was far too late; Korran during his dodge had anticipated the golden opportunity that arose from thin air and thus he was better prepared. Realizing that he had no hope of defending against the lunging Korran, Nolan raised his rapier and twisted to drive it down into his exposed back. His speed was well known around these parts and had allowed him to defeat many an ambitious bandit frothing to take his place - but he stood no chance against the small boy in such a contest. Korran drove an elbow into Nolan''s gut, then smoothly maneuvered behind the man as he doubled over, kicking the back of his knee and pulling his head back as he fell to a knee. He placed a dagger on the man''s exposed neck, his own pain a mere background noise against the roaring anticipation that filled his very soul at a well-executed victory. Slicing open a kneeling man''s neck was a bit more flashy than he was accustomed to - but he was convinced he needed to strike fear in all of the spectators to ensure the bandits didn''t pursue them once their leader fell and to make his "allies" hesitant to target him and his bounty. So loud was his pride that he almost didn''t sense the fast-approaching footsteps behind him. He spun halfway, keeping his dagger across the neck of his downed pray while extending the dagger in his other hand toward his approaching assailant. "The hell are you doing?" he asked with a raised eyebrow, realizing that the man who dared to interrupt the duel''s conclusion. The man was no bandit as he expected. Instead, Alaric''s brown eyes stared back at him. Chapter Nine Alaric felt guilt creep into his gut as he looked into Korran''s confused eyes. He''d thought that keeping his bounty a secret from everyone was the safest course for everyone involved, but it hadn''t exactly worked out that way. With Fiona''s words ringing true he could feel the annoyance radiating off of the others as he watched Korran stand on his own - ensnaring the bandit leader into a deviously manipulated duel. Of course, he had failed him the most. Had he risked telling the team, he wouldn''t been worried about his focus on his safety being conceived as favoritism by the others. He''d brushed off the boy''s concerns about being seen in the village and there was little doubt in Alaric''s mind that''s how Nolan had been alerted. Now, standing in that clearing with a small army looking down on him and his associates watching on without assistance, he appeared more alone than when Alaric had followed him. Still, guilt couldn''t silence his conscience and allow him to watch Korran execute the man. "There''s no need to spill any more unnecessary blood," Alaric said, well aware of the dagger just inches from sinking into his stomach. He''d moved impossibly fast to twist his body and hold a threatening dagger to Alaric''s stomach before he could react - even more so than he had in the duel. Had he been holding back? Alaric wondered. Korran blinked in disbelief, then his lips curled into a scowl. "Are you joking? I''ve earned the right; this man has lost the duel after threatening my freedom and life. This isn''t a case for a courthouse, Your Highness." "Still...it takes nothing out of you to show mercy. A death should be purposeful." "This guy wouldn''t bat an eye commanding his men to kill us. I''ve witnessed firsthand their lifestyle - his death is far overdue. Frankly, if you wish to have your blood merged with his-" A colossal Warhammer settled above his shoulder, cutting off his looming threat. Ardus hefted the weapon heavier than a single man with just one hand, a serious expression etched on his face. He''d moved pretty quickly for his height. Alaric gave him a grateful nod. Korran tsked, his eyes drifting to Ardus'' hammer but neither of his daggers retreated from their positions. Alaric sighed, "I''m sure Nolan would now agree to pursue us isn''t in the cards." "Sure man, you got it," Nolan said shakily, his hands raised in surrender and his rapier uselessly on the floor. The man wasn''t as cocky as he had been when he had the high ground. A typical bully. "He''s telling you what you want to hear; this guy''s word means as much as a snake''s skin, shredded at the earliest convenience," Korran pressed. Alaric noticed he didn''t seem fatigued from the earlier duel and peculiarly, there had been moments Alaric could''ve sworn he made out the shadow of a grin while he battled. "Alaric is right," Ardus said, his arm still as a tree''s roots despite the weight in it. "Providing mercy to those who hesitate to do the same grants you good karma." "Then there''s a lot of people with great karma in the morgue," Korran responded dryly. "Lot of good it did them." "I imagine it did do them good in the end," came Ardus'' curt reply. "Enough of this," Alaric said, not allowing the two to ramble on. He could tell their spectators were getting antsy; if they decided to rush them it would be difficult to get out in one piece. "We''ve wasted enough time as it is - Korran he''s not worth killing. You''ve won your duel, good job, now let''s get gone." Korran''s scowl deepened. "Your obsession with morality is going to get us killed. You''re not in the city gates anymore, Alaric. Kindness is a symptom of weakness." Alaric dared to step forward, feeling the cold blade of Korran''s dagger press against his robe. "I have a plan, but it''ll require you to trust me." Korran held his defiant glare for a moment longer then dropped both of his weapons. He didn''t have much of a choice with Ardus'' Warhammer inches away from decapitating him, but Alaric still let loose a thankful sigh. Nolan collapsed to the ground, his body shaking with quiet sobs at the shock of being at death''s doorstep and Ardus made sure to kick his rapier out of his reach. Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! "Restrain him," Alaric whispered to Ardus then turned his attention to the horde in the trees. They were well past restless now, looking poised to strike at any moment; whether to free their leader or if they considered him a lost cause was up for interpretation. "As you can see we wish to shed no more blood here today! We hope to return your leader to you with a pulse, but we''ll need to take some precautions for our safety." Some of the eyes staring down at him didn''t seem to care for his words and he could understand why. In this savage forest and lifestyle seeing their leader reduced to sobbing would taint their image of him. One of the men who''d been originally standing next to Nolan must''ve sensed the same thing because he barked something in their direction that Alaric didn''t pick up. Then the fellow looked down at Alaric. "Speak; what terms?" "We''ll hold on to Nolan as we head south down this path, in an hour - and no sooner - you''ll advance in our direction and find him hogtied to a tree with no further harm." Alaric pointed to Wulfur, "This is the part where I point out we have a wolf on our side, and if he so much as detects the scent of a single bandit you won''t find your leader breathing." Alaric held his breath as his words hung in the air. He''d shown mock confidence in his plan to reassure Korran, but there was no certainty that the bandits played along. Watching his father negotiate had revealed it was all about flashing the cards in your arsenal and making them seem more impactful than they really were. However, the only card he had in this particular negotiation was Nolan. The two factors their fate depended on were the level of loyalty between a majority of the bandits and how far away they''d get after dumping Nolan. No bandit would be happy walking away from a bounty in their grasp. "Very well, we accept the conditions." the same guy replied. He was oddly shaped with his hair sticking out at different angles like spikes, but he had a tone of authority. Alaric didn''t stick around to let the higher-up second guess himself. He motioned to Korran and Ardus - who had Nolan draped over his back - before they hustled back to the edge of the clearings where their horses and the others waited (thankfully). "Make sure Wulfur''s nostrils are on full alert," Alaric said once they had been galloping for five minutes. It wasn''t a full-speed gallop because Ardus'' horse now had to bear the weight of both the giant and the bandit leader - but Alaric thought they were making good time. "They always are," Petra assured him. "I don''t mean to poke the elephant in the room," Fiona started from nearby, "but are there any more surprises waiting for us? It''d be helpful to list them in order of most life-threatening - like say...being ambushed by a bandit army would be pretty high up...I hope." Alaric sighed. "No, it should be smooth sailing from here." "I sure hope so," Mathis unhelpfully commented with a sly look in Korran''s direction. "What does such a small boy have to do to earn such a bounty?"| Not even a second passed before Korran''s gruff reply. "Kill men far greater than you." Mathis'' eyes narrowed, but Alaric didn''t let it go on any longer. "Less talking, more riding," he demanded. "We''re not out of the woods yet." After another fifteen minutes, Alaric held up a hand and the others halted behind him. He pointed to a river directly off the trail but not hidden from sight and canopied by tall trees."We''ll leave Nolan here and continue on our way." No objections were raised as Ardus climbed off of his horse and hauled down the bound Nolan with one hand. The man was bleeding slightly but his cut didn''t seem deep. Alaric followed Ardus down to the river and watched as the giant tied him to a tree with rope. "It''d be in your best interest not to come after us. Next time I won''t stop Korran." Nolan nodded stiffly. Without a dagger against his throat, he''d recovered some of his spunk. "I''d say I''m in your debt, friend - but that''s a fine bounty you have on a leash there - so no payment of mine would be worthwhile." "I disagree." "The only one who''ll be on a leash is you." Korran''s voice behind him almost caused Alaric to jump out of his skin. He hadn''t seen him follow them and as usual, the man had been quiet as a ghost. "I imagine you''ve lost a lot of face being spared by a city crow''s morals." Nolan took on a thoughtful look. "Face can be reclaimed, a neck can not, eh? I feel no shame at being saved by this..." Alaric smiled. "Alaric." "-Alaric. What I do feel ashamed about is losing to that brute technique that lacks any elegance. If this were me before the cobwebs set against my joints, you''d be encased in dirt by now, boy." Korran gave a sardonic chuckle. "Pitiful," he muttered before turning on his heel and stalking back to his horse. Alaric was surprised to see that the look Nolan gave Korran''s back wasn''t corrupted with anger or vengeance - but instead seemed much calmer and softer. He remembered that Korran had known the man''s name and wondered what history they shared. He allowed himself to imagine that Nolan would turn his back on this life of stealing from innocents, but deep down Alaric knew that was as likely as an eagle barking. They left the man tied to the tree and continued forward. Petra offered to heal Korran''s shallow cut with her abilities but a withering glare answered her offer. "How far until the harbor?" Ardus asked. Alaric grinned, tapping into his memory of the map he had studied for weeks on end. "Not far, big guy. Not far at all." Chapter Ten It took another hour to reach the harbor. It would''ve been only forty minutes if they didn''t stop to eat. "Aye, I''ve stayed quiet until now but I can''t any longer in good conscience," Ardus had said. "The Gods state that breakfast be the most important meal to bolster the structure known as your body. It seems noon is right around the corner, and that is the deadline for this sort of thing, yeah?" Alaric had stopped then, letting his gaze sweep over his companions. Mathis stayed stone-faced, but Alaric detected an eagerness in his eyes at the mention of food, though the man was much too disciplined to have made the request himself. Petra also seemed to positively glow at the thought of eating something. As he would expect, the two assassins¡ªKorran and Fiona¡ªseemed indifferent to the others'' ordeal. "Alright. We''ll take a twenty-minute break; Petra, I want Wulfur scouting the perimeter to make sure Nolan''s group isn''t on our trail." Alaric had doubted that a wolf could handle such a complicated suggestion but tested it out anyway and he was surprised when Petra not only didn''t point out the impracticality of the task but instead hopped off her horse and whispered to her pet. It was even more shocking to see Wulfur make eye contact with him, then bound off into the bushes. They went to work on the chicken sandwiches Alaric had bought - two for each person and a flask of crystal clear water to boot. Korran ate like some savage animal - gulping down a sandwich in mere seconds as if his last meal was in the dragon age. It didn''t take long for Korran to glance at Ardus on his left with an unreadable expression on his face. "So - is this how it''s always going to be, big guy? You stopping me every time I''m about to make a kill? I can''t imagine your Gods look kindly on murder - unless your tribe is more cult than advertised." Ardus ate much more daintily than Korran, so he took a second to clear his mouth and answer. "Some murders are fueled by purpose. Eradicating evil, for instance, will not upset the Gods." "Simple enough," Korran responded with a nod, "just call anyone who wrongs you evil and you get a free pass. Quite the loophole you have there." "It''d be smart not to disrespect the sacred will, for ignorance can only be your shield for so long," Ardus replied with sharpness in his tone. "For someone to be objectively evil they must make victims of more persons than yourself." Korran scoffed. "Like, say - Nolan?" "Indeed. But the situation decided it wasn''t yet his time, Korran. I imagine fate has an elaborate plan for that fellow." "Fate''s plan isn''t worth crap - I had him." He turned to look at Alaric then, "I imagine every person he robs, kills or defiles will weigh on fate''s conscience now." Alaric shrugged, trying to act like that wasn''t an anvil he had pushed to the side to feel the weight of later. "I had no choice." "We both know that isn''t true. You''re lucky for such a flimsy plan to work, if it could even be called a plan. More like a gamble." "Aren''t all plans gambles?" Fiona chimed in. She''d also made short work of her sandwich. Korran flicked a dismissive hand at the woman. "Some more than others. His only worked because Nolan had been the leader for decades. It''s unusual for a bandit group to value companionship to that extent. I still feel with enough coaxing they would''ve sacrificed him." "And your plan was so bulletproof?" Alaric asked defensively. His plan had been hastily thrown together but it had gotten the job done without fail. "Executing their leader - who the ones with authority evidently cared deeply about - in front of them? I don''t think you would still have control of your lips to complain otherwise." That had shut Korran up for the time being. Now, looking down on the dreary desolate harbor, he spoke his first words since then. "Looks like a damn graveyard." He was right. Small harbors like this one weren''t done in towns or cities, so there was no place to reside after docking. More alarming than that, however, was the lack of security. That deterred big boats carrying precious cargo or supplies from choosing to dock at these harbors. Still, Hiedel Harbor was much more gloomy than most. A single lonely wooden cabin resided just a few feet from the pier which hosted small rowboats that were more likely to have been abandoned than cared for. Even the backdrop of the illuminating grin of the sun was unable to pierce the somber atmosphere of the harbor. Alaric imagined a more superstitious traveler alone at night would get quite the fright from the scene. It was a great place for a ship desiring not to be seen by many to pass through. Unfortunately for the Greta company, Alaric informants posted at the most discreet routes, and it had paid off. "Looks like we''re going grave-digging then," he stated before leading them down the slope bordering the lonely clearing. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. "I expected more. How will we find out answers about the Greta company voyage here?" Fiona asked curiously. Alaric had to remind himself none of them - besides Mathis - were likely to be born in a city as developed as his own. Official harbors were probably a thing of fiction for them. "Harbors are where ships on jobs check in to document their paths." "Sounds counter-productive, no? Leaves a paper trail," Korran pointed out. "They don''t exactly have a choice. Official business must be sanctioned to earn the protection of the Bahari Force; that entails routinely docking at harbors to show proof of identity and reinforce the planned route so if a vessel should go missing - the Bahari Force would know what area that occurred in," Alaric explained. "Are you saying we''ll have to deal with the Bahari Force too?" Petra''s timid voice asked, laced with unmasked fear. She wasn''t the only one uncomfortable with the proposition. The Bahari Force was the organization responsible for nearly the complete extinction of pirates. It was a task force that first hunted down the most acclaimed pirates and then prioritized the security of the sea¡ªmaking sure high-value voyages made it through undisturbed. Nowadays, there were stories of their corruption, but Alaric had yet to see it himself despite many instances of meeting some throughout his childhood. "Not if we''re effective," Alaric said in his most confident voice. To say a run-in with the Bahari Force would complicate things was a grave understatement. Their firepower was next level. They reached the cabin then. The once rich wood logs had begun to fade due to the constant exposure to the sun and rain, with cracks and warping appearing around the exterior to give it an aged look. The floor creaked as they advanced up the steps and made their way toward the door. "Follow my lead," Alaric whispered before pushing open a door in similarly bad shape. His eyes took a second to get accustomed to the dim lighting inside the cabin. When they''d adjusted, he was struck by how simple the administration building was. There was a counter on the far side and some chairs chaotically thrown in corners. What caught Alaric''s attention the most, however, was the look of the man behind the counter. He seemed spooked - his eyes wide as the others poured in behind Alaric. Alaric made sure to approach the counter cautiously, his hands visible the entire time¡ªas well as his reassuring smile. His father had never taught him diplomacy, but there was a natural charisma he had inherited, if the words of his dear mother were to be believed. "Hey there, friend. How does it go?" Alaric asked the man. He had a forgettable face that would''ve blended into the background of any crowd, but his eyes were haunted. The man''s reply lacked friendliness and was hurried, though the place wasn''t exactly backed up with activity. "What business?" Alaric dipped his head, ignoring the man''s rudeness. "I have some questions about a voyage that passed here a few days ago now. Captained by Ahbrad Scott if I do recall-" "You''re with them!" The man''s yell caught Alaric completely off-guard and he took an involuntarily step back, which was all as well considering he found himself looking into the barrel of a revolver. The man pointed at everyone in turn, his eyes frantic. "All five of you stay still! Tell me who you''re with and why you dared to come back. Come to steal more documents, have you?" Five? thought Alaric. He didn''t dare look around to give it away but he suspected Korran was hidden somewhere, quietly maneuvering around the counter to blindside the shaking man. "Look at me," Alaric said, managing to keep his voice even, "I''ve never seen you and I imagine you''ve never seen me either - or any of my companions. We''re not with this group you speak of but we are interested in what happened." The man''s hand shuddered frenetically and Alaric wondered if he''d be successful making a move for the revolver. He couldn''t ensure one of his team members wasn''t directly behind though and didn''t dare risk moving his head and scaring the man into pulling the trigger. "What group are you with then?" the man asked shakily. "I''m supposed to believe it''s a coincidence that you came asking right after the others earlier today?" The man''s aim shifted to Alaric''s left as a man bravely stepped forward, despite his short stature. "You know of the Guerdians, right?" "Yeah," the man paused to observe Mathis'' attire, "Are you one?" "Aye. We''re after those blokes who seem to have robbed your fine establishment today. I apologize that we haven''t caught them sooner - seems that they''ve given you quite the fright. Anyway, we heard they were after that ship my partner mentioned and hoped to get ahead of them, but clearly we''ve failed at that." Alaric could see Korran behind the man now, a singular dagger in his hand. The two met eyes and Alaric gave the faintest shake of his head. Mathis was doing well. The man wasn''t as tense as he''d been a minute ago. "Oh..." His gun wavered but he didn''t dare lower it fully. Mathis nodded. "I understand your skepticism but we''ll gladly get out of your hair - er," he paused, noticing the man''s bald head before continuing, " - erm, head. All we ask is..." "Is if you can remember the route of the ship I mentioned?" Alaric finished. "They may have taken the document but your memory could still be key to us stopping their path of carnage." To his credit, the man seemed to start thinking very hard - if the lines of concentration were any indication. Just as Alaric was starting to believe he''d had a revolver pointed at him for no reason, a lightbulb seemed to go off in the man''s head. "Stork''s Harbor! That''s where they''re going." Mathis grinned and Korran approached the man from behind, slapping the revolver out of his hand. The poor man seemed rather close to catching a heart attack and retreated to a wall, huddling against it. "I told you what you wanted to know!" "Yeah, ignore my subordinate - he tends to get a little antsy around weapons," Mathis said with a pleased grin. Alaric didn''t have time to entertain their pettiness. He hurried to the door and mounted Alpha quickly. His heart hammering seemed intent on making loud music within his chest and his sweat glands were working overtime. "Woah there, Alaric," called Ardus with the others in tow. "What''s with the sudden rush?" Alaric met their eyes and forced his heart rate to calm down with a breathing technique he had learned from a trainer back home. When he was satisfied he wasn''t seconds away from an anxiety attack, he spoke while massaging his temple. "You heard that guy. We''re not the only ones after the Greta Company and their loot, and their information seems to be as good as mine." "Any idea who they might be?" Fiona asked. "No, but I imagine we better find out." Chapter Eleven Korran stared up at the roof of his tent and finally accepted that a peaceful sleep was miles away and not getting any closer. It felt like the weight of his bounty was on his chest, making its presence known with every breath he took. He got up from the makeshift bed which consisted of a blanket and his satchel for a pillow. Most would consider it uncomfortable but Korran had endured much worse sleeping conditions and his body was plenty used to finding the smallest comforts in blankets of discomfort. A memory came to him then, unannounced and unwanted - as they often were. It was a night for training his pain tolerance and he''d been commanded to lay in a pit of coal. The jutting rocks was plenty uncomfortable against his back but he''d consider it a blessing if that was all the night had in store for him. Sure enough, the night wasn''t in a merciful mood. As the heated coal became hot enough for the shirt of Korran''s fabric to melt into his skin and the revolving stink of burning flesh drifted into the soft breeze, Korran let out a soft whimper that was not quiet enough for their liking. "Hush child," came an angry voice from the edge of the pit. "Embrace the pain and let not it consume you." Korran would''ve loved to help the supervisor embrace some pain of his own but instead, he heeded the man''s words and focused on implementing the technique that had been drilled into him. Pain was a persistent invader but the mind was a powerful tool. The Kalio clan especially believed so. They theorized that the mind was able to shut out the presence of pain, banishing it into the subconscious mind frame to dampen its presence, or in the case of skilled individuals - completely ignore it. Of course, this was no inherited skill, but an earned one. Korran strained to ignore the unbearable pain that caused his body to spasm slightly. He would''ve already bolted upward if not for the comparable fear of having his wrists strapped down. His muscles clenched as he tried to focus on anything else than the searing pain that screamed for his attention. His eyes latched on to the half moon resting perfectly in the middle of an unforgiving sky. The tears that settled in his eyes caused it to appear bigger and brighter and he couldn''t help thinking how beautiful it appeared. It was just like... Like a dagger. Now - in the present night - the half moon that occupied the sky reminded him of that night. It was curved like a glorious dagger, ready to be plucked out of the sky and driven into his enemies. Korran advanced past the tents of his companions, wary that one of them would be waiting in the dark ready to ambush him. The secret was out there in the open now and he didn''t past any of them to try their luck. Heck, if the shoe was on the other foot he might''ve chosen the quick money himself. He reached the edge of the area where they had set up camp for the night and leaned against a tree on the perimeter. Wulfur stirred from his position a few trees down, casting a suspicious glance Korran''s way before setting his head back down with his ears staying up in the air. Korran kept an eye on the mutt as he tried to sort his thoughts out. Not long after, Korran heard the faint rustle of footsteps. He didn''t need a slither of light to make out Ardus'' imposing figure. Although it was weird to see him without his giant Warhammer - his height was simply too distinctive. "Can''t sleep, eh?" The man asked, settling in on the tree next to Korran. "How did you know I was out here?" Korran asked suspiciously. Ardus shrugged - a movement that looked painfully awkward on him. "Quiet night." Korra knew there was no way in hell Ardus had heard him walk over here. His confidence in his ability to be silent was not arrogance - but a simple fact. However, he didn''t push the issue. "Right," he muttered. "You can loosen up and stop side-eyeing me, I don''t desire the gurdees on your head." Korran raised an eyebrow, taken aback that he''d been noticed. "What, did the mountains give you night vision or something?" Ardus gave a throaty chuckle. "Might as well, eh." The man''s tone gave Korran pause. Although he couldn''t quite make out the man''s expression in the shadow of the late night, he detected a note of sadness between the man''s words. "You don''t strike me as a man willing to risk his life to fill his pocket, Ardus; and it feels even less likely that there''s a single criminal bone within that huge body of yours to give Alaric enough leverage to drag you along," Korran prodded lightly. "What''s your deal?" The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. Ardus grunted softly. "I didn''t take you for the conversational type." "I like to know who is supposed to be on my side...so that if they join the other side I''ll know where their body is most tender." "Charming." The tree groaned as Ardus repositioned himself against it. "You''re right - as you probably expected, yeah? I''ve noticed how you watch your surroundings and people''s reactions. You pay close attention and I imagine your subconscious rewards you greatly for that." He sighed deeply before continuing, "I''m not guided by the promise of treasure, nor manipulated by a leash of Alaric''s. What I seek is justice. The Greta Company is working for Duke Milto; should he get his hands on the Kaiser treasure...let''s just say carnage will find a new favorite student." Korran didn''t allow his surprise to be displayed on his face. "So you do believe the myth surrounding the Kaiser treasure?" "I believe that there are certain weapons blessed by the Gods, yes. If the Kaiser treasure truly holds one of those is to be discovered, but I can''t let the possibility go unnoticed." "Think of yourself as a modern day Po-Slate, do you?" Korran asked with a hint of sarcasm. Po-Slate was a famous samurai of the past, though many questioned if he really existed at all - the stories of his heroics made up bedtime and campfire stories alike. "Just doing my duty." Korran made out Ardus'' dark figure shifting as he gripped the pendant on his necklace. "I imagine you''re after your share to clear your bounty - if Alaric hasn''t offered that as a condition already." Korran grunted in response, providing no further clarification. It was a few minutes before Ardus spoke again, "I''m curious what those eyes of yours see when they look at Petra. Do you fancy her a criminal?" "She certainly has the look of someone who has killed multiple times," Korran responded after a second''s pause. "Hasn''t quite gotten over the act either, it''s written all in the unnatural bags under her eyes. A face that soft only gets those deep crevices from being haunted." "Do mannerisms really reveal that much about a person?" Ardus asked skeptically. "Personally, I''ve never realized." "Most don''t. It''s a skill that needs just as much training as swinging a sword, but rarely does anyone think of it that way, so even the most proficient observers are unknowingly holding themselves back." Ardus gave a second for the information to digest then asked, "What of Alaric then?" Korran felt a flash of annoyance but stomached the unexpected feeling. "What about him?" "What do you think of him?" Korran hesitated for a moment as he wondered exactly how close Ardus was to Alaric. He hadn''t forgotten how quickly he''d taken the man''s back to stop his rightful execution of Nolan. He ultimately decided it didn''t matter either way. "He''s someone who operates with a big moral compass - which can be a great weakness - but he''s at least moderately capable overall. His great passion for his goal makes him unpredictable." "Morality is rarely ever a weakness," came Ardus'' predictable reply. Korran could hear the frown in his voice. Korran scoffed but didn''t bother participating in a pointless argument. They had grown up differently and were bound to be stubborn in their beliefs. Ardus didn''t seem eager to press the issue either and they stood in relative silence, listening to the sounds of the night. The haunting whisper of the wind drifting through the trees, carrying with it the chirps of crickets, the hooting of owls, the occasional snap of a twig, and the persistent rustling of leaves along with the occasional slosh of a distant river once again unearthed memories Korran would rather leave buried. There was a time he was pitted in a forest alone - left to fend for himself for a week. At the tender age of eleven, Korran had the tools in his arsenal to hunt, protect and evade when necessary in the day, so it was a relative breeze. However, the times when the moonlight failed to penetrate the fog of a soulless night were terrifying. Every oddly shaped branch, every sound that reached the ear, and every leaf or branch that swiped at the skin allowed for fear to rake its grizzly claws across the heart. Fear materialized then, existing in every shadow and playing one''s heart to a drum. It was enough to make a man mad. Korran had quickly realized that his chance of survival would rise considerably only if he could conquer the grasp of fear that ruled the night. So, he adapted and learned the difference between the rock of a stable object and a moving shape, the distinct burning of unseen eyes, and most importantly - he mastered the art of peripheral vision. It was why Alaric didn''t have a chance of tailing him undetected - his awareness was simply too advanced. He hadn''t lied to Ardus about the art of observing requiring training, but no city would be quit to adopt the immoral training he went through. His clan put his life on the line at every turn, and it''s why he had come out sharper each time. A system where the mind was forced to disregard asserted limits or risk death. "You know, I have a feeling once we get to this next harbor it''ll be a bumpy ride from then on," Ardus commented. The man''s voice was anything but soft but it might as well have been a mother''s caress with the effect it had pulling Korran out of his memory. Ardus continued, unaware of Korran''s turmoil, "Which is why I think it''s important everyone is capable of working together." "Speak your mind," said Korran, though he knew exactly what the man was referring to. "This little feud between you and Mathis, there''s no room for that if this mission is to be successful. There''s more at stake here than what I figure is your average job, so I hope you''ll wisen up." With that advice, Ardus stalked away in the direction of the tents, leaving Korran to consider his words. As much as he disliked it, he couldn''t find fault in the tribesman''s words. With their current animosity levels, Korran would always view Mathis as a highly potential backstabber. Korran looked up as a plan started to form in his mind. A cloud had trespassed on the image of his beloved dagger moon, its placement in the middle causing it to look as if the dagger had been severed. Korran chuckled to himself as he thought about how Ardus would take it as a message from the Gods. For Korran it only meant his daggers were mightier - because no cloud could hide his enemies from judgement day. Chapter Twelve Alaric had finally been welcomed into sleep''s arms after hours of fretful turning thanks to the lack of comfort in the forest floor. He imagined the others had no such problems and that knowledge very much embarrassed him. His embarrassment was nothing compared to his annoyance at being awakened, however. He turned away from the tent opening, annoyed that the spot where he''d managed to find an ounce of comfort was now ruined. When the noise persisted and he could groggily decipher it as raised voices, his sense of duty kicked in and he pried open the tent opening with muttered curses which raised in volume at the assault from sunlight. In the middle of their impromptu camp was a gathering and Alaric seemed to be the only one late to the party. He wasn''t surprised to see the two who seemed seconds away from starting a physical altercation were Korran and Mathis, rather he was shocked that no one seemed intent on stopping the two. Alaric jogged up to the quarreling men, his grogginess a forgotten mistress but a massive hand clamped down on his shoulder. Alaric trained an annoyed glare on Ardus. "What?" "Let them work it out," the man said. Alaric scoffed. "What happened to that talk about avoiding unnecessary violence?" "This is necessary - overdue even. These men are fighters and perhaps the only way they''ll respect each other is to exchange blades." Alaric was struck by how confident the man spoke - as if he hadn''t witnessed firsthand Korran''s willingness to kill and given Mathis'' army background status, the man was likely liable to murder given the chance as well. "They aren''t just fighters, they are killers; what will we do when we''re down a man because we allowed these two to point their blades at each other?" "That''s what Petra is here for, is it not?" Ardus retorted. "She can heal them both with her blessed abilities once the dust clears." Alaric stuttered, searching frantically for an excuse. He''d made it a goal not to become too reliant on the girl''s Pateral abilities in fear of her becoming unstable. "I don''t want her to waste energy. She''ll need-" "I''ll be fine," the soft-spoken Petra announced. Alaric hadn''t expected her to speak up and he groaned internally. "There you have it. Now there''s no reason not to let these chaps work out their problems on their own terms," Ardus said readily. Alaric frowned. What course should he be taking as a leader? Should he overrule Ardus and stop the men or heed the older man''s wisdom? As he was pondering the best course of action, his eyes locked with Korran''s and he suddenly got the feeling that they were on the same page. Something in the boy''s eyes told him he wasn''t seeking to kill Mathis...or Alaric could just be imagining what he hoped to see. Nonetheless, he relaxed, confident that Korran would be the victor. Mathis had just finished saying something at the highest volume his voice allowed when Alaric focused in on their words. "Now that I think about it," Korran started with a sly grin, "I remember seeing someone in that uniform before up close. He had this big badge on his jacket, unlike you, and I figured it meant he was supposed to be strong or something." He lowered his voice menacingly, "Turns out I was wrong." This was Mathis'' breaking point. His face''s complexion turned such an unadulterated red that Alaric half expected steam to start pouring out of his ears. With puffed up cheeks he drew his spear in a single motion, pointing the metal tip directly at Korran. Korran chuckled darkly. "I warned you what would happen if you pointed that spear at me again." "Let''s see if you can keep that promise," Mathis countered with a sneer. Korran set about doing exactly that, launching himself toward the man with daggers drawn - much like he did Nolan. However, Mathis was no Nolan and his spear was a different story altogether. He was able to keep Korran at a distance with a few well placed swings and thrusts. Alaric could almost see the gears in Korran''s head turning as he drifted backward out of the spear''s reach. After a moment, Korran lunged forward again toward the grinning Mathis. This time, Korran was better prepared for the speed of the man''s spear and moved as effortlessly as water, weaving in and out of the way of the tip. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it Seeing an opportunity, Korran leaped into the air to dodge a stabbing attack that came very close to finding purchase; then, with all the weight his small stature allowed, Korran landed delicately on the spear, his momentum sending it pointing to the ground. Mathis - strictly disciplined to keep ahold of his weapon in the most extreme of conditions - went down to a crouch to maintain his position. This left him at the mercy of a vigilant Korran who after taking a step across the shaft of the spear, launched himself toward Mathis at such a speed that he was a blur. Alaric sighed with great relief; eternally grateful that the fight was ending before significant blood could be shed. Or so he thought. In a move that displayed such exquisite footwork and spear control that Alaric failed to comprehend what exactly happened at first glance, Mathis spun backward - creating enough space to lash out with his spear before Korran could reach him. Korran was now the one at the mercy of the blade, suspended in the air as he was. He put his daggers in a defensive x shape in front of his chest right before the spear smashed into them. Despite saving himself from a direct stab wound, the force of the blow sent Korran sailing backward and skipping across the dirt like a human rock before skidding to a stop on his stomach. Had he taken a split-second more to regain his footing, he would''ve received an impromptu piercing in his back - but the tough boy leaped back up and dodged out of the way of Mathis'' lunging combo. However, Alaric detected a noticeable decline in the boy''s previously incomparable agility; evidently, he hadn''t walked away from the tumble unscathed. Presumably out of desperation, Korran started to kick up dust and Mathis went out of his way to slice through the dust clouds before they could provide the smoke screen Korran appeared to desire. Alaric noticed Korran fidgeting with something under his cloak while Mathis focused on dispersing each cloud he kicked up. Korran switched back to the offensive in the blink of an eye, throwing a dagger like a rocket at an unsuspecting Mathis. However, it lacked the velocity to really challenge the Guerdian who just knocked it away to the left. Another followed shortly after, but once again it lacked the speed Alaric expected and Mathis easily brushed it away to the right. His third dagger throw was pitiful, even for the average human, and it landed a few paces in front of a confused Mathis who regarded it with suspicion. Korran charged at Mathis after the distraction, but the Guerdian was much too advanced for the simple trick and he raised his spear in a disappointed matter, aiming the blade at the man''s heart as he lunged forward to meet the charge. Despite the man''s apparent dislike of the assassin, it was clear he had held him to a certain standard based on his reputation in the underground. Suddenly, the confident Guerdian catapulted to the ground as if an invisible hand had pushed him in the back. His head bounced off the ground with a wet thud and Korran slithered around his body, placing a firm knee in the small of his back and holding up his face enough so he could place his dagger against the man''s neck. Alaric didn''t hear the boy''s whisper but he didn''t need to be the best lip reader in the land to make it out. "Checkmate." Alaric started forward - keen on making sure his only spear wielder didn''t end up with his throat decorating the floor, but Ardus'' massive palm once again touched his shoulder gently. The giant gave a small shake of his head and Alaric understood his meaning. If he intervened now, there would be no point in the fight. Korran had to choose to spare him. Mathis'' face was now a bloodied mess with at least a broken nose, but he seemed too stunned for the pain to set in yet. "How?" He asked shakily. "Thread in between the first two daggers you blocked," Korran replied readily with a hint of satisfaction in his voice. "That''s what tripped you." Mathis managed to look more confused than he had prior to Korran''s curt explanation. "Impossible. How would you be able to predict the daggers would land on either side of me?" Korran gave what looked like half of a nonchalant shrug. "Instinct, I guess. You Guerdians are robotic; I figured if I threw it far enough on either side you''d knock them down into the ground, instead of a wild block that would risk flying in a random direction and injuring allies. You may not consciously think of it in the heat of battle, but it''s how you were conditioned in your training." Mathis frowned, his eyes darting to and fro as he tried to find a lie in the boy''s confession. "Then, when did you apply the threads to the daggers?" "While you were busy dealing with the dust clouds I was kicking up. In reality, I wouldn''t be able to create a big enough dust cloud to pose a real threat, but you Guerdians are obsessed with controlling every factor of the battlefield, so I bet on that." Mathis scoffed but couldn''t argue against Korran''s analysis; the proof was against his neck. After a few seconds of listless glaring, Mathis spoke again, "You weren''t lying when you implied one of your jobs was dispatching a Guerdian, were you?" Korran seemed to debate something in his head before answering. "No. The lie was in him being weak. He fought fiercely, and even after studying how Guerdians train and their habits - I came close to marrying the dirt. He used a basic sword, but his control over it left me unable to raise my left hand for a week." Korran removed the dagger from Mathis'' neck and to Alaric''s surprise, offered a hand to the man. "He was strong." A pregnant silence followed as Mathis regarded Korran''s offered hand through his bloodied visage. Alaric didn''t doubt that Mathis could be so petty to pick up the spear in arms reach and drive it into Korran''s stomach. After all, the boy had just admitted to killing a Guerdian general. Finally, Mathis closed his eyes briefly, then gripped Korran''s hand. "Aye, I imagine he was." Chapter Thirteen Korran hid a grimace as his steed leapt over a fallen tree log, jerking his sore rib more than needed. His mind quickly became inured to the sharp pain caused by the horse''s gait, but the long leap broke that rhythm. He brought up the rear in the line, so everyone had waited briefly and now started back their quick trot, seemingly unaware of his discomfort. Mathis seemed to be in good spirits, humming a quiet tune that worked fine as noise pollution. Initially, he''d been worse off than Korran; he''d gotten a busted lip and nose that was bound to sting for a while, along with cuts along his shin where he''d tripped over the strong thread. However, Petra had been eager to offer her her Pateral ability to heal the spearman. It had only taken a couple of seconds for Mathis'' mangled face to be restored, and even Korran had to grudgingly admit it was impressive - though he made sure a sharp glare stopped her from asking if he wanted a similar experience. Now, he settled back into the familiar rhythm of stabbing pain in his rib, drifting into deeper thoughts than discomfort. It was unreasonably hard for Korran to fight someone when he wasn''t going for the kill. He''d been built into a killing machine where subduing wasn''t on the agenda, which is why in jobs labeled dead or alive, he preferred to show the employer a carcass. Still, it seemed he had severely underestimated the Guerdian''s abilities. He was still unable to understand how he had trumped Korran once he had gotten inside the reach of his spear. Perhaps he had been arrogantly reliant on his speed, but that close, his spear shouldn''t have been able to reach Korran like that. He replayed it in his head again; he''d leapt onto the spear''s body, pushing down the weapon until it met the ground, then instinctively took one more step across the length to boost the success rate of his chart, before leaping at the vulnerable man. As his experience stated, once he got inside the reach of the spear the user was a dead man taking his last breaths on this plane. However, Mathis had slid back and in the blink of a salt-encrusted eye, his spear suddenly appearing in front of Korran. It didn''t make sense. Korran snapped out of his thoughts as he noticed one of the horses slowing down so that their rider would be by his side. He looked up at the culprit warily, annoyed that she had chosen the side with his bruised rib. "An ancubba thread, huh?" Fiona asked with a humorless smile. "So, you recognized it," Korran replied evenly. He''d expected her to, but not to be bold enough to confront him about it. She spared him a thoughtful glance with those intense blue eyes. "I did, and curiosity seems to have gotten the better of me. Do forgive me, but seeing a Kalio member use one of the Kiersha clan''s sacred weapons is quite surprising. Where did you get it?" Korran decided to humor her. "I made it." She was unable to hide the mixture of shock and disgust that clouded her features for a split-second too long. She searched his face - presumably for a tell-tale sign of him lying - though she would''ve been unsuccessful even if he was. "You kid?" "I''ve never made a good jester, so I don''t make it a habit to deliver jokes. I learned the trade and I''m not so rooted in Kalio ideology to shun the idea of its usefulness." As he spoke, visions of Kalio members who fell victim to the sharp, thick thread came to mind. In the worst case he had witnessed, one had been hung from an oak tree with the thread as a message to stop crossing onto their territory. She rubbed at her eyes idly as she trained her gaze forward. Her voice came as a whisper as she said, "Full of surprises aren''t you?" "I sure hope so." They rode in silence for a while until she had composed herself again. It wasn''t lost on Korran how strongly she reacted despite her claims of having no further obligations to her clan. "I''d never seen a Guerdian fight in person before now. I do believe the result would''ve come sooner if you were fighting with intent to kill." Korran wasn''t one to lie without reason, especially when that lie would make him look more formidable. An assassin''s work was much easier when they were underestimated. "Truth be told; I don''t think he fought with killing intent either." Mathis was well trained in organized warfare, so Korran doubted he''d gone through training to conceal his killing intent since it wasn''t a necessary precaution in that setting. Fiona didn''t seem convinced, but Korran didn''t care to assure her. Frankly, he was suspicious of her sudden desire to talk to him. Kiershans rarely did anything without an ulterior motive, after all. It only took another fifteen minutes before the light musky air carried voices along its path. It didn''t take Alaric to tell the group that they were nearing the city, the voices did it for them. These were people who had taken the longer, safer routes, instead of cutting through the dangerous forest. Frankly, their group might''ve had more trouble with predators of the animal variety if not for the presence of Wulfur. Alaric stopped after a few more strides - controlling his horse whom Korran had heard him call Alpha - masterfully. There seemed to be no limit to dumb pet names in this motley crew. Korran half expected Ardus to have named his weapon after a God or something. "We''ll split up here," Alaric announced. "Are you sure that''s a good idea with another team lurking around?" Ardus asked tentatively. Korran got the impression the man didn''t want to step on Alaric''s toes further. He had noticed him holding him back earlier this morning. Alaric nodded firmly. "We''ll meet back up at the harbor. Korran''s cloak doesn''t do a good job of hiding his face and there''s bound to be a lot of wandering eyes in a busy city. I figured Mathis, Fiona, and I are the least conspicuous, so we''ll go on a bit of a shopping trip for more discreet clothing, while you guys take the longer route around the city to the harbor." "I look conspicuous?" Petra asked curiously. Alaric gave a faint amused smile. "No, but your furry friend sure does. This way you can accompany him, unlike last time." Petra''s face brightened at the realization. She had a weird way of smiling, with half of her lips twirling upward naturally and the other half appearing as stiff as a parched plant. "Okay," she muttered. "You''ll walk along the forest perimeter in a semi-circle fashion, crossing a small bridge before ultimately reaching your destination," Alaric instructed. "As long as you keep the city''s walls in site, you''ll know you''re still on the right path." He seemed to add on the next bit as an afterthought, and Korran got the impression that he was specifically being addressed, "And try to avoid trouble, eh?"Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. "We certainly won''t go looking for it," Ardus grunted. That answer seemed to satisfy Alaric. "Safe travels, then." "May death be on your side," Korran mumbled. Korran watched the trio descend the hill keenly. He suspected Alaric had chosen the two least likely to turn on him for his bounty to accompany him. He''d been in his fair amount of big cities to know there would be much stranger looking persons than Ardus, and a pet wolf might draw some attention - especially one as large as Wulfur - but they wouldn''t be turned away. Though the chance of someone recognizing him in a city was a reasonable concern. "We''d best get moving," Ardus annnounced and Petra muttered her timid agreement. Korran followed behind the pair, noting the differences in their gaits. Ardus walked with experienced confidence, his head high and muscular body relaxed as he walked at a even pace that was on the brisk side for the average person; while Petra reeked on uncertainity and looked around warily from time to time at nothing at all, as if she feared the very branches of the trees would reach down and grab her at any moment. It was truly a wonder how she''d tamed the beast that glided along beside her. Not for the first time, Korran questioned her usefulness without the canine. The walk was unpleasant, lasting for the better of two hours with the setting sun finding the right angle to hound their backsides relentlessly. To top it off, mosquitoes were out in studious attendance, leading Korran to believe they were near some type of wetlands. The savage pests didn''t mind that Korran''s hands were covered, aiming for the exposed part of his legs and face. Still, the annoyances didn''t upset Korran too much and he found himself daydreaming about his recent fights; what he could''ve done better and what weaknesses his opponents may have presented. The art of battle was that experience sharpened your blade, but you had to first acknowledge the room for improvement, even in the most resounding victories. Occasionally they passed people on their path who were much friendlier and better attired than any Korran had laid eyes on in a while. They revealed varying thick accents when they greeted the trio, and their clothes were excessively flamboyant, consisting of the brightest colors and richest silks. To Korran, they might as well have been wearing a ''prey'' sign on their forehead. Before he found his calling as a dagger for hire, he was sure he''d become a legendary bandit leading his own crew; however, he quickly realized there was no pleasure in preying on the weak. The bittersweet memories of his younger days were cut short as Ardus came to a sudden stop. Immediately Korran could sense the sudden tension that infiltrated Ardus'' body. The way the hulking man''s jaw clenched, his eyes narrowed slightly as he regarded a potential threat. Korran followed his gaze and discovered they had reached the bridge Alaric had mentioned. He''d called the bridge small but that was clearly by his unrealistically grand expectations. The bridge arched gracefully over the beginnings of a canal. Worn cobblestones decorated the surface, a slick smoothness marring the material as a result of decades of footsteps traversing across. Beneath the bridge, the canal water glinted amber as the descending sun''s rays kissed its surface. What had caught Ardus'' ire, however, was the three hooded figures leaning against the entrance to the bridge. Korran''s experienced eyes immediately classified them as trouble from their demeanor and the unnerving weapons peeking out from behind their clothes. One of the figures was looking in their direction with the faintest of smirks beneath his hood. He had a black scythe with a wickedly curved blade pinned against his back which Korran noted with annoyance. It was rare for him to come across someone using a scythe as a weapon - but every time he did, they had turned out to be quite skilled. "Who are they?" Petra asked warily. Korran didn''t need to look at her to know her fear was written all over her face, the shakiness in her voice was proof enough. "No idea, but we''ll have to go past them. Just follow my lead and we should be fine; they''ve no reason to start trouble with us." Ardus sounded confident, but Korran knew his words were meant to calm down Petra so she wouldn''t rile them up with her showcase of fear. The truth was, if they recognized Korran they had great incentive to start trouble. Wulfur, sensing his owner''s discomfort pointed his ears forward and let out a low guttural growl. "You''d best control your mutt before it lassos us into this unnecessary fight," Korran warned. He didn''t miss Ardus'' look of surprise as he glanced back at him. He seemed to be expecting Korran to want a fight. Korran would be lying if he said there wasn''t a small itch at the back of his mind, wondering exactly how strong these strange men were and how he''d fare against them, but he''d had more than his fair share of battle since joining this group. Not to mention, his rib decided now was a good time to remind him of the discomfort it was in. Ardus started toward the bridge and Petra followed after quieting Wulfur with a firm glance. Korran brought up the rear, his hands never moving too far from his sides where his trusty daggers resided. He was unable to lock his pain back away in his subconscious with all of his focus now on the three figures who watched their approach. "Good day," Ardus said when they reached them. His voice was measured, not too overbearing, but not too polite; a cautionary warning was lodged in his tone. Black Scythe leaned forward, revealing a boyish face that didn''t match the intensity of his sinister smirk. "Quite good, I''d say. Better now, I dare say." He had a thick accent - foreign even to Korran - which made it sound like all of his words were joined together at the hip, slurred out in one impossibly quick syllable. Ardus never stopped moving forward, barely acknowledging the man''s reply. Korran noted that the other two hooded figures seemed content to watch them pass, but Black Scythe''s eyes shifted to Petra, and he openly leered at her - though Korran suspected he was simply fishing for a reaction. The man let out a low whistle of appreciation, nearly scaring poor Petra who was pointedly trying to avoid eye contact, out of her shoes. Her eyes met his and a whimper escaped her throat as she drew away from him. Wulfur had been behaving well, but this was too much for him. He growled ferociously, stepping toward the man and looking poised to lunge at any second. "Oh?" Black Scythe cooed with the calmness of someone not on the bad side of a seven foot monster. "I wonder how that mutt would taste? A bit tough I''d imagine, but I never cower from a challenge." Korran had been walking with his head down, doing his best to ensure he wasn''t recognized, but he''d been watching the trio''s feet intently, and he saw Black Scythe raise a foot to step forward. He readied his daggers with the least movement necessary. The moment that foot began its descent was when he''d strike. Most trainers taught the importance of patience, but the truth was patience could doom any man. The key was knowing when a situation called for impatience. In a standoff, the person brave enough to make the first move could give themselves a great advantage. His aim was to make a deciding strike that would take the man out of the fight quickly. Even without looking up, he began pinpointing where he would need to strike to deal a critical blow and mentally prepared himself. The roar from the pain in his rib dulled as adrenaline coursed through him, but he took note of the injury - estimating he''d be slower than usual. Black Scythe''s foot paused in the air and Korran looked up to see that one of the other figures had placed a hand on his shoulder. The man had a scruffy, unkempt goatee with eyes the color of crystal blue jewels. His eyes were latched onto Korran, but he addressed Black Scythe as he said, "Is this your idea of keeping a low profile? The boss said lay low, you tearaway." Black Scythe turned mechanically, his smirk disappearing as he glared daggers at the man who dared to stop him. The man met his glare evenly and Black Scythe held it for only a few seconds before breaking into a pout. "That doesn''t mean I can''t have fun," he whined. "Be patient just a little longer, we will be needed soon." Korran tapped Petra who had frozen at the man''s advance before pointing forward. She got the message and was all too eager to hurry forward. Ardus had stopped, sensing the impending conflict but he too started back forward, though at a less hurried pace than Petra. It was unnerving walking the rest of the way across the bridge, knowing that a ticking bomb in human form was behind his back, but Korran didn''t give him the satisfaction of appearing unsettled enough to look back. What worried him most was the words from the other man; ''We will be needed soon.'' That didn''t sound good. Chapter Fourteen "Are you positive ladies wear such obscene attire in these parts?" Mathis asked with a look of genuine horror as he eyed some ribbon-style silks that promised so much skin, a sun burn was possible. Alaric chuckled softly. Guerdians were from a rare breed of army regiments who considered endorsing prostitutes as stress relievers to be taboo. Even during their pillages, they considered it indecent to take the women of their worst enemies, which was a stark difference from general army culture. "Some women aren''t skilled enough to seduce only with their tongue, so using their body as an aid is necessary," Fiona stated without Alaric''s humor. Mathis frowned at her explanation. "Why would seduction be necessary in the first place?" Alaric observed the most emotion he had seen from the Kiershan in his brief time of knowing her. Irritation flowed across her face as she said, "Quite myopic, aren''t you? Some people lack metal spears, so they must settle for metaphorical spears in order to survive." "Let''s stay on course," Alaric interjected, sensing Fiona''s tenderness on the subject and the storm brewing. "We''ve already wasted plenty of time. We should be there already when the others reach the harbor." They''d quickly found a clothing store upon entering the city, considering there were plenty to go around. Alaric had purposely avoided finding a store in the heart of the city, since he knew that was where the more popular stores and stalls were typically located in cities. He moved to the male section and eyed the available cloaks of poor, used quality. They were towards the back of the store, which was typically where the impoverished shopped. It was a new experience for him, but somehow felt less demeaning than he expected. He picked up two hooded cloaks after intense inspection, ensuring that they smelled less like ripe animal feces than the footwear located just a few feet away. Not exactly fitting for a noble, but they would have to do. The two cloaks might''ve been a brighter blue once but now they were of a dimmer indigo blue, sporting carelessly sewn patches at random intervals around the surface. Korran had critiqued the authenticity of Alaric''s lower-class cloak, saying it made him stand out like a right fool to a sensible eye, but Alaric suspected the cloaks would meet his apparently lofty standards. "Oh, would you two like some cloaks as well?" Alaric asked the pair looking on skeptically. The look the two gave him seemed more fit for an enemy than their leader. ? ©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤ ??? ? ??? ©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤ ? According to the storeowner''s directions, the harbor was a straight line eastward and the trio wasted no time navigating the crowded streets. The store owner had been shocked by Alaric''s speech, considering the quality of attire he was purchasing. Alaric''s brother was great at changing his own accent and speech to disguise the royal timbre embedded in it but Alaric had failed at adopting such a skill. His thoughts wandered to his own city as they passed characters of all sorts who all walked with great purpose, despite the untimely hour. It was a stark contrast to the low-end villages he''d braved recently, where the atmosphere was one of malicious cunning and a damp maleficence. The general disregard for the others who shared the road, other than to maneuver around them in their hurry made Alaric feel right at home. He remembered times when he''d look out from the highest windows of his family mansion and observe the people below - his people. He would grin at the many different styles of the humans below, some more funny-looking than others but he''d always be enamored with their purposeful strides. No matter the class that their attire dictated, everyone was a product of their own world, striving to better it with each destination their legs led them to. It made Alaric start thinking of the future from a very young age, a future where he too picked up a brisk pace to reach a destination. As they made their way deeper into the city, Alaric''s eyes fondly caught a different type of traveler. They didn''t walk at a brisk pace, but their coasting feet were guided by as much purpose as anyone''s. They drifted through the crowd routinely, their eyes scanning entire bodies in a split second for the sign of an oblivious golden goose. Back home, Alaric had been closer to the pickpockets in the city than any noble children growing up. He was fascinated by the thought of kids fending for themselves, being responsible for putting food on their own plate and the bravery to take such enormous risks to do so. Looking back, there was probably an element of guilt at play. He had more chefs ready to serve him than he did fingers, and he never wanted for anything gurdees could purchase, yet he was the same age as these boys, born in the same manner.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. He started to accompany them on their pickpocketing expeditions, though he made sure they knew he wouldn''t directly participate. After all, he had no need for the jewelry and gurdees they stole. When his mother got word of his dealings she sat him down and sternly hammered home the point that distancing himself as a spectator didn''t rid his hands of the immoral crimes committed. It was an obvious truth, but hearing it from his mother whose kind eyes narrowed and twisted downward to match her lips when she got irritated, prevented him from ignoring the sound logic. He distanced himself completely then, losing his first true friends - because, in the process of stealing for survival, they''d become hooked on the thrill of it. "Alaric. Hey, Alaric!" Mathis'' voice pulled Alaric from the sting of his memories. He realized that he''d stopped to stare directly at the pickpockets. The oldest couldn''t have been over thirteen, but they had sensed his attention and glared venomously at him. "I thought you said we''re keeping a low profile, not trying to get into fights with thieving vermin," Mathis remarked. Alaric bit back his ready retort that, given the context of the current job, someone would call Mathis the same. "I thought I recognized one of those kids from somewhere," he said instead. "I must''ve imagined it. Let''s keep moving." Alaric commanded his mind to focus on the task at hand. He had a feeling with the unplanned hiccups so early on, this job would only get more complicated. He traced his breastplate, reveling in the feel of the assiduous engravings that made up the emblem of his home. He imagined if his mother could see him now her frown would widen, because he was no longer a simple spectator. He was a participant. Alaric made a silent promise to his mother that he wouldn''t get lost in the thrill and only do what was necessary for the success of his plan. Thankfully, once they reached the harbor it wasn''t long until Korran and the others appeared from the forest path. Sometime during their wait, the sun had fully drifted away to be replaced with the watchful gaze of the serene moon. Alaric could sense the unease that wafted off the trio even before they reached them. Petra especially seemed badly shaken. "Something wrong?" Alaric asked in a hushed tone. Around them, activity was still bustling around the harbor, with people returning from the city to board their ships and the many vendors who made stalls selling essentials such as food, wine, weapons and the like, still expecting customers of the nocturnal variety. Alaric made sure to note the locations of the visible invigorators. These were officers of the law, typically appearing in major cities to minimize crime and keep the area safe and profitable for the Monarch of the region. These men were paid well, which tended to make them rather motivated. Ardus grunted, casting a composed look back the way they''d come. "We encountered some...shady characters on the bridge." "Judging by the words of one of them who was trying to reign in the other, it seems they have something big planned. Considering the vicinity of the harbor and the confirmation that there''s another group in play, I''ve a bad feeling about this," Korran stated grimly. Alaric hesitated, looking around as if he''d be able to pinpoint the group they spoke of and discover their intentions. "We''d better move quick then," he said finally. He handed Korran the hooded cloak he bought for him and to his dismay, the boy hardly glanced at it before removing his worn cloak and switching it with the new one. Alaric felt a wave of shame for his effort to find the grandest two while Korran seemed to just regard them as materials. "There''s the harbormaster''s office we''re after," Alaric continued, gesturing toward a two-story building with a slate roof ingeniously crafted into the curved shape of a ship. Two invigorators stood on either side of the building''s entrance and it was a given more was nearby. "Here''s the plan; I''ll show my family seal and ask to see the logging of the arrivals within the last twenty-four hours, acting as if I''ve come to ensure that the supplies on the ship are accounted for. My family doesn''t have influence in this jurisdiction, but there''s a good chance whoever is behind the counter will not know that. However, if for whatever reason I''m denied, the responsibility will fall on you, Korran, to steal the documents while I distract the attendant." Alaric realized then that he''d simply assumed Korran was an experienced thief because of his deathly silent and quick fighting style. When his eyes met Korrans though, he gave him a self-assured nod that quelled Alaric''s rising doubts. "Great, the rest of you-" A deafening boom shook the ground and caused what felt like Alaric''s heart dropping like a stone into his stomach as he lost his balance and fell on his side. Only Korran, Fiona and Wulfur managed to stay upright. Alaric regained his footing quickly, looking to the source of the shouting to find two ships on fire - or rather what was left of their burning remains. No simple accident could have caused such a reaction. The wheels turned quickly in Alaric''s mind as he took in the scene before whipping his head back in the direction of his team. "The office! This must be what the other group planned, which means the ship is probably still docked here. We have to find out the name of the vessel!" He had scarcely finished his sentence before Korran bounded off in the direction of the harbormaster''s office. All around them, chaos reared its ugly head; it was obvious the harbor was under attack but no one could decipher from where, causing a frenzied panic from the sizeable crowd that the invigorators could be seen trying their best to contain. Ardus, Mathis and Fiona looked ready to follow Korran''s lead but Alaric stopped them. "Only Fiona goes to help him. The rest of us will try to find this group you guys spoke of and figure out who they are once and for all." "That explosion was not from a simple bomb," Mathis said somberly as Fiona continued toward the office. He had his spear drawn and twirled it idly in his hand. "We can assume that they have a pateral or more on their team." Alaric shrugged, hoping he came off as indifferent, which hopefully sparked some confidence in them. "We have one as well." Mathis looked at the nervous Petra skeptically but said nothing. Ardus drew his greatsword, his hand comfortably gripping the large silver handle. It had been a while since he''d spilled blood. Chapter Fifteen Korran paused, making sure that the invigorators had cleared their post before dashing up the steps. The invigorators didn''t host much of a challenge in a one-on-one battle, but he might be regarded as a part of the terrorist group that blew up two ships if he was to be seen fighting them. The oak door opened readily, croaking a warning to anyone inside, which annoyed Korran to no end. He entered warily, taking in the room in one fell swoop. Someone was behind the counter, half-turned as if they were in the midst of going through the plentiful shelves overflowing with various documents that gave the room the boring aroma of brine, ink and aged parchments. The man behind the counter seemed young despite his bent posture and a pair of the bushiest eyebrows Korran had ever laid eyes on. "We''re closed," the man said lamely, taking in Korran''s hooded robe and drawn daggers with widening eyes. Korran''s instinct told him this man was no mere desk worker, his eyes simply moved too deliberately and guileful, compared to the leisurely untainted gaze of a person who made a career of stamping and organizing documents. Moreover, Korran suspected he was a part of the group they had encountered, despite his simple attire comprising of a gray tunic. Korran took one cautious step forward then another, saying, "Is that so? Sorry to intrude but I suspect you know what I''m after, so I''d rec-" The words died on his lips as he sensed the faintest leak of bloodlust from his right. It was considered the greatest embarrassment for an assassin to be snuck up on, but especially one as experienced as Korran. The truth was his rib was at fault - the damn pain had enveloped him again after the jolts as a result of him running to the building. The Kalio clan considered it so critical that their members learnt to banish the presence of pain from their mindscape at an early age because pain had the power to dull even the greatest fighter''s senses, and so it was one of the greatest weaknesses in existence. Had he been able to relegate his pain, he would have noticed the misshapen shadow in the corner when he''d swept the room with his eyes, however, excuses didn''t allow a redo on the battlefield. As Korran turned, he confirmed with composed clarity that there was nothing he could do. His attacker was simply too close for him to guard in time - much less counterattack. He could hope that luck blessed him and his attacker missed a vital spot, but Korran didn''t think much of relying on the unreliable. Just as Korran braced himself, he felt the projection of bloodlust from another direction - this time it was as if the murderous intent was being purposely broadcasted. His assailant ducked, revealing an object that flew past where his head had been not a full second ago. The man stayed on task though, transitioning into an attack from his crouched position. Because Korran had never stopped turning his body, he was in a better position to observe the trajectory of the man''s blade and he jumped over it this time, gracefully spinning in the air to perform a roundhouse kick aimed at the man''s skull. His assailant betrayed some experience of his own, tilting his shoulder forward to take the brunt of the kick while simultaneously preventing the attack from reaching full momentum. Still, the force of Korran''s kick sent the man sprawling backward toward the counter. Usually, Korran would jump at the opportunity to stay on the attack while the man was off-balance, but as his foot made contact with the man, pain shot up his hip. The intensity of it shocked him and he landed almost clumsily against the floor. He regained his feet in a split second, waging a mental war against his aflame nerves to drive his pain into his subconscious. It was especially hard with the adrenaline of battle soaking his veins, and the pain only subsided by a bit as a result. "A thank you would be nice," Fiona''s confident voice crowed, seemingly unaware of his discomfort as she walked up beside him. Korran ignored her comment, using every precious second to try to put reigns on his pain. Saved by a Kiershan of all people. Korran''s assailant regained his feet and Korran got an eyeful of the weapons that had been inches away from skewering him. They were short blades with a wicked deep curve furnishing the point of the swords. The man kept his eyes on them, but addressed his partner behind the counter who had returned to furiously surfing through the documents. "Find them yet, mate?" "No, but the fact that it''s taking this long proves master''s theory that they always change the ship''s name between ports." "Well you better get a move-" "Found it," Bushy Eyebrows exclaimed, triumphantly raising a parchment in the air. "They keep the captain as the same name." It dawned on Korran that these two didn''t realize they were after the same target; they probably thought that Korran and Fiona were just two looters taking advantage of the chaos outside to steal the valuable information residing on the wall shelves. "Best get that information to the others, then. I''ll occupy these two while you go on your merry way." He said the last part matter-of-factly, as if it was a done deal he could overpower the two in front of him.Stolen story; please report. Korran sighed, satisfied that he''d pushed all the pain he could to his subconscious and eyed Fiona. She was an assassin like him, which meant that they didn''t specialize in direct combat. The other man had already showcased some experience absorbing Korran''s kick with his shoulder and Korran worried that Fiona would just be holding him back. Fiona scowled when she saw the look on his face, venom lacing her voice as she said, "I can hold my own." Korran remained unconvinced. "Right," he said, not bothering to offer a fake air of confidence. He was in the midst of sketching out a mental plan before the thin man with the curved blades took action. He launched himself in their direction and Korran took on a defensive stance, having no choice now but to trust in Fiona''s ability. The man threw a glancing swing at Korran, which he easily evaded but he seemed more focused on Fiona, rushing her with a flurry of attacks that she narrowly weaved in between. Korran had been taught to prioritize the strongest person in a group, ideally dealing a critical hit in the first charge and disheartening the rest as a result; this thin man seemed to follow a different set of rules, looking to eliminate the weaker opponent quickly. Just as Korran prepared to step in he heard a big boom and looked back just in time to see Bushy Eyebrows exiting through a smoldering hole in the wall. For a second he entertained the idea of the poor postured man being a Pateral, but he ultimately decided against it, figuring that he must''ve used some type of bomb. "Go after him," Fiona commanded after a precarious dodge that seemed more from instinct than prediction. "You heard them, he has the parchment with the name of the ship." Her attacker visibly tensed at her words, realizing his mistake to assume they were simple petty thieves. He easily maneuvered behind her body, displaying a noticeable boost in speed and raked a blade vertically down her back. Fiona didn''t utter a sound despite being bloodied and falling to a knee. In a show of impressive pain tolerance, she stabbed the man in his knee with a needle when his attention shifted to Korran. Korran had no doubt the needle was lined with poison, but the man seemed to have some measure of poison tolerance as he lashed out with his other foot, catching Fiona square in the face. "I wanted to avoid killing a female unnecessarily, but your vile fighting style has made it necessary." Fiona was downed after the direct kick, looking up dazed at the man as he raised his hooked blades, a focused fury decorating his eyes. Before he could plunge them into her, his body appeared to cave in on itself as he slumped to the floor, his face now a mask of horror and pain while his swords clattered uselessly to the floor. Korran stood in his stead, the responsible dagger drenched in fresh blood clutched tightly in his hand. The man had given Korran the opportunity to do what was second nature to him. Seeing Fiona completely take his attention, Korran''s pain dulled to a dim roar as every sense in his body became laser-focused on crossing the few feet between them in the most silently quick steps possible. He could feel every pound of his weight as he distributed it evenly along the sole of his feet, making each landing as soft as padded shoes on dirt, yet he remained prepared to dash forward should his cover be blown. This was what he was made for. He drove his dagger into the man''s lung without him ever catching wind of the danger he was in. He watched as the man crumbled to the ground, a feeling of innate satisfaction sweeping through him. "We''re even now," he told a downed Fiona that regarded him with shock. Her shock was quickly replaced by annoyance at his words. "Are you telling me you''ve jeopardized the mission because you were fearful I''d hang my timely intervention over your head? You were supposed to get the ship''s name out of that other guy!" "A thank you would be nice," Korran recited with an easy shrug, basking in the shame that glinted in the prideful woman''s eyes. "Besides, letting him lead us to his team and following them to the ship is a more reliable plan." Fiona huffed, which Korran assumed meant she couldn''t find fault in his hastily thrown together explanation. She braved the burning pain that Korran was all too familiar with, standing on her own. Korran felt sure that even if it was two broken legs rather than a deep slash across her back, the woman would''ve found a way to stand rather than asking for help. "What are we waiting for then? Let''s get a move on before he blends in fully with the crowd," Fiona said gruffly, her voice''s change of pitch a sign of her masking pain. "Sure," Korran replied with a nod. He moved toward the downed man who had smartly rolled onto his side to stop himself from suffocating due to his punctured lung. "There''s no need for that," said Fiona grimly. "He''s a dead man once the poison infiltrates his bloodstream." Korran wasn''t so convinced. "He seems to have built up a resistance." Fiona shook her head, "Sadly enough for this bastard, it doesn''t matter. The poison coating is special grade, able to defeat the strongest resistances with its slow inevitable takeover of the nervous system. It was specifically made for..." Her awkward pause made the unsaid words clear. Specifically made for members of the Kalio clan. Korran swallowed the hate that rose from within like bile in his throat. He couldn''t disassociate from everything his clan had planted in him, but he made a decision right then and there he''d decide who to dislike, rather than let clan politics influence his emotions He chose to focus on the resourcefulness of such a poison instead. "You may have to show me how to make that sometime," he said, "perhaps as payment for saving your life." He hurried out of the building before she could point out they were even. Outside, the invigorators were hard at work steadying the chaos and were making progress in that regard, which allowed Korran to catch a glimpse of what he suspected was his target''s back heading down to the docks. He took a moment to swipe his dagger through a patch of grass to clean off some of the blood on it, which happened to give Fiona time to catch up. "At the docks," Korran said, to which Fiona nodded and darted ahead, giving Korran a clear view of the grisly slash across her back. The disturbing sight reminded him how close he''d been to having one of his own - or worse. This was no privileged noble or moderately experienced merchant that had pissed off the wrong person who endorsed Korran to tie up the loose end permanently. These men were skilled and serious, and above all dangerous. It was time for him to get serious too, despite the consequences. Chapter Sixteen Alaric watched as Fiona disappeared into the building. He trusted in their abilities, but their working as a team was a whole different equation. Truth be told, he hadn''t the slightest idea about the clan politics that supposedly made the two natural enemies beforehand. "We''d best not just wait around hoping they find it," Alaric announced, trusting them to take care of themselves. He glanced at Ardus, "What were the men wearing that you guys saw?" Ardus described the hooded figures, taking a moment to highlight one who carried a scythe. "Let''s look for anyone matching that description. I suspect they''ll be down at the docks, if they haven''t boarded the ship already." The mixture of the dim torchlight and moonlight lighting, even when enhanced by the orange ambiance provided by the burning ships, made it hard to see through the chaotic horde of the panicking crowd. However, Ardus had no such issue, considering he tower over every man or woman in the vicinity, giving him a clearer perspective of their surroundings. Sure enough, after minutes of a slow advance through the crowd, Ardus spoke up after they were a few feet off from the dock. "I see four figures loitering around a rowboat toward the western end. Three of them are wearing hooded cloaks - I''m positive at least one of them was at the bridge," he confirmed. Alaric nodded absentmindedly, working to put together the puzzle pieces. "I think it''s best we maintain our distance and watch what they do for now. In the best case scenario, they lead us to the ship and we benefit from them occupying the Greta Company and we secure the treasure, undetected for as long as possible" Ardus looked at Alaric with a disapproving frown. "And put more people at risk? Who knows how many innocent bystanders they''ve killed with that explosion, and now we''ll allow them to add to that count." "That''s unlikely," Mathis stated, "They used the explosions to create chaos so they could cloak themselves from the invigorators and watchful eyes; they won''t do anything to draw attention to themselves directly if they have any sense." "An assumption," replied an unimpressed Ardus. Alaric sighed. Ardus had a point, one he felt almost ashamed to not have considered. He wanted to be responsible for an entire city, yet here he was thinking of only his own objective and not the safety of the majority. Still, a leader needed to remain rational. "This is the best way to limit innocent people getting caught in our crossfire. If we engage them here, I imagine there will be casualties." Ardus held Alaric''s gaze a beat longer before dipping his head. "I trust your decision." "It''s settled then." The team of four plus Wulfur watched the men as they stood leaning on the rowboat. The crowd eventually started to calm down as the invigorators fought to get them under control, claiming that the explosion was the result of a gunpowder spark, and not an attack on the harbor. It was effective crowd control - a necessary lie in order to discern the problem properly. Some of the sailor crews had ventured out of the safety of their boat to dutifully assist with fighting the blaze of the vehement fire, however, the fire was proving to be more resistant than the average. As the crowd around them thinned, the others were able to pick up a clear line of sight with the men, as Ardus had. This caused Alaric to worry they''d be spotted and the men would grow suspicious, but the group seemed engrossed in a conversation. "Is there a way for you to detect if any of them are Paterals?" Alaric asked Petra. Petra looked surprised to be addressed. "Uh...no. Well, Wulfur might be able to, but we''re much too far at the moment." Alaric grunted. Getting closer wasn''t an option; they were already at risk of appearing suspicious as it was. Ardus being a human tower didn''t help the cause either. A big boom once again reverberated throughout the area, once again raising panic levels. Alaric looked for the source of the new smoke curling through the air and realized it came from the harbormaster''s office which now had a giant hole in the wall that faced them. A twisting sense of dread clutched Alaric''s stomach. "It looks like they ran into resistance," Alaric said, already imagining the worst. He knew that he should be prepared for the possibility that members of his motley crew didn''t make it, but he felt responsible for getting them through the job he hired them for safely. Mathis scoffed, saying, "You seem more worried than you should be, boss. We''ve seen Korran fight and I''ve exchanged blows wit'' him myself. He may look small but he''s a big boy; Fiona also seems capable of holding her own." "Either way, we''ll have to put faith in their abilities," Aruds said, pointing toward the crowd. "That guy seems to be moving toward them." Alaric spotted the man Ardus indicated moving quickly through the crowd, unbothered of drawing the ire of people his careless elbows found. He likely only avoided some brawls with the callous laborers because of their own panicked rush. The only distinctive feature Alaric could make out from his distance were two unusually dark bushy eyebrows. The group watched as the man hurried to the waiting men at the rowboat, brandishing a paper and engaging in a spirited conversation with the men. A man rose from the rowboat and the demeanor of the other men immediately calmed down. This new arrival sported a comically large afro that seemed to be dyed blue, but Alaric couldn''t be sure it wasn''t just the dim light playing tricks on him. Soon after, the men piled into the rowboat to join Afro, lit a torchlight and drifted off into the water. "That man came from the direction of the harbormaster''s office," Petra unhelpfully pointed out. "What if..." Alaric certainly didn''t need the reminder. "We have no choice but to follow them - there''s now little doubt what they''re after. If Korran and Fiona don''t join up with us at some point, we''ll come back after to...check on them." Alaric pointed to another rowboat not far from where the group of men had just taken off, "We''ll take that." With no further comments, the crew hurried to the rowboat and piled in. Alaric and Mathis were first to the oars but Ardus took both from them and made fast pace after the fading glow from the torchlight the men had lit. Eventually, Ardus was forced to slow down and let the rowboat coast as the boat ahead of them veered off to the right. Mathis made a suspiciously billions sound then dove for the side of the boat before hurling the contents of his guts into the ocean. Alaric cursed silently at the sound and Ardus didn''t dare row forward. "What the hell, Mathis? Don''t tell me you were drinking today?" Alaric asked with more than a little irritation. Mathis managed to pull himself back from the side, looking positively green and queasy. "It''s the damn ocean, boss. Never been a fan and evidently - neither is my stomach. Can''t even swim a meter either, this is practically a death trap for me." Alaric''s gaze softened. "Then let''s hope swimming won''t be necessary. Now try to keep your wits about you, this is no time to be defeated by harmless waves." "Right," Mathis muttered, which seemed to take great effort as he propped his back up against the side of the boat and kept his chin high. Alaric had to trust he was accustomed to nausea from his drinking hobby and knew how to deal with it before they made contact. Ardus once again propelled the boat forward, chasing the torchlight that now hardly reached them. They discovered that the men had traveled behind the ships stationed at the dock and pulled up next to a medium-sized vessel that appeared anchored behind the rows of ships. Its position made it impossible to be seen from the harbor. It seemed the men had thrown up a rope over the side of the ship and onto the main deck. Ardus allowed their rowboat to coast toward the other one, wary of someone being left behind to keep watch, but it was revealed to be empty. They quickly switched boats and Alaric walked up to the rope. "I''ll go first," he said with firm resolve then remembered the large wolf staring up at him. He certainly didn''t think the massive beast was capable of climbing up a rope. "How will Wulfur-"Stolen story; please report. "I''ll carry him," Ardus said with a nod. "It is said the Gods never went to war without their animal partners by their side, if only to grant them fair fortune. We shouldn''t either." Alaric imagined if Korran was here he would''ve given a contradictory comment, but instead, Alaric just gave a satisfied nod and began his ascent up the rope. Uncertain of the rope''s ability to bear his weight, Alaric grabbed onto it and positioned his feet against the side of the ship so he could walk along the surface, as he''d witnessed mountain climbers do. Thankfully, the rope didn''t plunge down the side and into the water with him in tow. As he climbed, he imagined the view he was missing out on - the calm ocean waves sparkling with droplets as they crashed against the hull of the ship tinged orange thanks to the glow from the torchlight. He steadied his thoughts as he reached the railing, warily peeking through it and making out no humanoid shapes in the dim lighting provided by a singular wall torch. The only sounds still came from the commotion back on land and this worried Alaric. There should be sounds of battle, their distraction to slip by undetected, not the serene quiet of the night holding its breath. He felt the rope tug, which was expertly tied between the ship''s railing, and didn''t have to wait long until Mathis beached, still looking sickly out of sorts, but him managing the climb was a good sign he hoped. Next came Petra, who took longer to climb than they had. Even Ardus, who shimmied up with one hand on the rope and the other wrapped around a compliant Wulfur, made faster time than her, though Alaric worried the whole time that the immense weight would cause the rope to snap. Alaric instinctively gripped his greatsword. The silence was deathly loud and his conscience told him this was because danger lurked around the corner, scaring noise into submission. Sure enough, the door to the superstructure opened and out poured the man with the large afro, which did turn out to be blue - and his team followed behind, including the man with bushy eyebrows. "Is that all of ya, now?" Afro asked. "Surely you didn''t think you lot could follow us without us noticing. Must think we''re a buncha amateurs, yeah?" A man who had a black scythe strapped against his back sneered. "Those two - the big guy and the girl, we encountered them by the bridge. I told Koko to let me at them but he held me back. I could''ve dwindled their numbers." "That doesn''t matter, Qiel," Afro said with a dismissive wave of his hand and a dazzling grin. The man might''ve once been handsome as a boy, but his features had hardened with age and he had a strap beard that didn''t quite fit his face. "You''re too selfish, you must learn to share your fun with us." Qiel didn''t seem happy with that but he said nothing. Afro regarded them again with keen interest. "Are you folks responsible for the lack of people on this ship? Perhaps you tipped them off that we were coming." Alaric took a second to find his voice. The man''s presence was overbearing and his voice confidently commanding. In a way it felt like he was what Alaric aspired to be - an experienced leader. "I suspect we''re after the same thing you are," Alaric said indicating the ship with his hand. Afro frowned. "You speak with a noble tongue, yet you seek riches. Another example of nobles getting in the way of hard-working men''s honest work for their own indomitable greed." He spat, "You deserve nothing but a golden casket." "Who are you people?'' Alaric asked, ignoring the man''s comment. "We are what you lot seem to be imitating; treasure hunters, in the flesh." "There''s no imitating going on. No one aspires to be a pack of mangy robbers for their lifetime," Mathis barked. The distraction of being called a treasure hunter seemed to be all he needed to forget about the bobbing waves beneath them. Afro chuckled. "You may want to look in the mirror before you pass judgment, boy. Being a temporary robber does not erase you of sin." "Well said," Ardus muttered under his breath. A sudden change drifted across Afro''s face and his demeanor shifted from a playful one to a somber one. "Enough of this chatter. I''ll give you a chance to shimmy back down that rope and I''ll forgive the intrusion, yeah?" Alaric shook his head. "That isn''t happening." "Very well." He turned to address his team, "Occupy these gentlemen while I make sure our friends haven''t escaped - if they haven''t already, frankly." With that, he retreated back into the superstructure and the four men he left behind leaned forward with sinister smirks. Ardus looked meaningfully at Alaric then at the door the man had disappeared behind with a question dancing in his eyes and arched eyebrow. Alaric got the meaning; he could choose to send Ardus after the man or go after him himself. Even though the man''s presence reeked of strength, Alaric only had one choice if he was to be respected as a leader. "I''ll go after him." Ardus nodded readily. "I''ll clear a way for you then." "What are you two whispering about?" One of the unnamed hooded figures stepped forward cockily. Ardus unceremoniously dashed forward, his warhammer raised in the air. To his credit, the man didn''t retreat at the sight of a fast moving giant lumbering his way but instead drew his sword and crouched into a defensive position. The man deftly dodged the first mighty swipe of the Warhammer then another with practiced precision, but perhaps his consecutive successes caused him to underestimate Ardus'' agility. Ardus'' quick pivot into a vertical slash left the man hastily throwing up a guard with his sword that couldn''t bear the might of Ardus and his gigantic war hammer, splitting in two and dazing the man with its blunt force. There was no hesitation in Ardus'' follow-up swing that dropped the man to the floor in a pool of his own blood. Qiel eagerly leaped forward, unruffled by the plight of his comrade. His scythe with its black surface felt like an agent of the night as it sped toward Ardus. Ardus raised his weapon to counter, but the man maneuvered the scythe to hook the Warhammer along the shaft, using the momentum to fling himself closer to the giant. He skillfully detached the scythe from around the war hammer and raked from Ardus'' shoulder down to his stomach, before leaping back. A man with crystal blue eyes who had shed his hood approached the angered Ardus from behind unbeknownst to him. He drew a spear and prepared to plunge it into the man''s massive back, but Mathis interfered, nicking the side of his cheek with his own spear. Bushy Eyebrows approached Mathis from his side but Wulfur lunged forward, causing the man to dodge backward with a curse. Ardus grunted and met Alaric''s eyes. "What are you waiting for?" Alaric felt guilt wash over him at leaving his crew behind but he didn''t let his hesitation show. He dashed through the now open space to the door, taking one last look at his crew bravely facing off against the treasure hunters. Pride swelled in his chest as he burst through the door, but that feeling quickly dissipated as his own problems materialized in the man waiting patiently for him. "Do you want to know my weakness, boy? It''s that I can''t resist a thrill; ever since a young chap I''ve been a bit of an adrenaline junkie, jumping off buildings, stealing and most certainly fighting. Even when my brain tells me to stay focused I just can''t do it." "That''s unfortunate, considering this won''t be fun for you," Alaric said, letting his sword drag on the ground and make a grating sound. Afro slowly drew his weapon. On his back, Alaric had thought it to be a spear, but it turned out to be a halberd. The man stretched, his shapely muscles bulging beneath his skin-tight shirt. "You know, I was hoping it would be that big guy that would come through this door," Afro commented. Alaric forced his muscles to relax, feeling the vibration from his sword to his hand as it dragged. "You''re going to be hoping for another reason when I''m done with you." Alaric charged at the man who regarded him with a smirk before thrusting his halberd forward. Alaric sidestepped the attack without losing momentum but had to pause to duck under the shaft on the reverse swing. Alaric slashed at the man''s chest, expecting him to block it and already prepared to knock him off balance - but to his surprise, the man stepped forward to meet Alaric''s swing, recklessly swinging down his halberd so that the wooden shaft connected with Alaric''s sword. Alaric fully expected his sword to cut through the wood, but to his surprise, his hand went numb from the solid connection that reverberated through his palm. Before he could get his bearings, he had to throw up a vertical guard to avoid being skewered and the sheer power behind the weapon sent him spinning backward, his sword falling out of his numbed hand. Afro didn''t rush him in his vulnerable state, instead leaning on his halberd with a wry smile. "Quite underwhelming even with my already low expectations. If this is the level you''re going after the Greta Company with you may as well be digging your grave, boy." The comment stung but Alaric kept himself grounded, trying his best to calmly address the situation as he''d been taught. The man might''ve been the most powerful man he ever traded blows with. His pulsing fist testified to this fact. Which meant he would have to find an attribute he outclassed him in other than strength if he hoped to win. Alaric retrieved is sword and shot toward Afro with renewed vigor. Back in Heuldrik, his strength had been his pride and so his fighting style tended to rely on it, but his father had warned him on diversity and he was now eternally grateful for his wisdom. Afro lazily swatted at him with his weapon and didn''t appear surprised when Alaric ducked under and got inside his guard, or so it seemed, once again Afro managed to get his halberd back in time to parry Alaric''s blade but this time Alaric was prepared for the power behind the blow, and so kept a deathly tight grip on his sword that made his knuckles start to turn white. He reared back his sword as if he was attempting another attack with it and Afro lazily tracked the blade with his eyes, which was why he was completely unprepared when Alaric instead shoulder barged him, throwing him off balance. The man still managed to block Alaric''s follow-up strike with his halberd, but again Alaric was thinking ahead and placed his foot behind the man, tripping him up. With Afro falling backward, it should''ve been a clear and conclusive checkmate, but despite his look of surprise, the man never lost his calm demeanor. Using his falling momentum, he drove his foot up into Alaric''s unprepared chin with such force that Alaric''s feet left the ground. The world blurred when Alaric landed and he was only dimly aware that Afro had regained his feet from the muffled sound of his boots. "Finally, some semblance of creativity," Afro''s voice crooned. "A pity I was your opponent, boy." The man''s earlier words echoed through his murky mind: ''If this is the level you''re going after the Greta Company with you may as well be digging your grave''. This man had disposed of him so casually and he seemed to regard Greta Company highly, that didn''t bode well for Alaric''s ambitions. He felt the weight of a city''s responsibility on his eyelids and the brooding sound of the man approaching him lulled them down faster with one last thought clearing his conscience. He had failed Chapter Seventeen Korran watched as Alaric and the others rowed away, the noise from the freshly chaotic crowd damaging any hope Fiona or he had of their voices reaching them. "We''ll have to borrow another boat," he said conclusively, eyeing the docks and the various vessels along it. He noticed further down there was a motorboat that had three men piling in bags. Korran assumed the men had decided to hightail it out of the situation, despite the chance that their quick departure would make them appear suspicious. "Do you know how to operate a motorboat?" Fiona followed his gaze. "No, but I imagine they won''t mind sharing the details if we ask politely." Two minutes later, they were pulling away from the docks with the three men watching from the shore, bruised but breathing. Luckily, they hadn''t resisted much after the two had snuck up on them, considering neither Korran nor Fiona would have many qualms about killing them. It wasn''t hard to find the torchlight that shone like a beacon once they cleared the first set of ships. There they found two boats side by side with a rope hanging down the side of the ship. "Let''s hope the rope is still attached to something up there," Fiona said, craning her neck for a better view. "Hope is for the weak," Korran replied, crossing to the nearest boat and tugging as hard as he could on the rope. Failing to move he turned back to Fiona, "It''s attached." "Then you wouldn''t mind going first." "...Right." Korran gave the rope another tug before beginning his ascension. Muscle memory from his experiences climbing out of pits from a young age made using a rope for his climb almost too easy, though his pounding rib made the experience painful. A chilly wind rose from the ocean and bit his skin despite the cloak he wore, but he hardly noticed. Sounds of battle came pouring down to him before he reached the top and settled in a crouch behind the railing at the side. As he waited for Fiona to join him, he observed the ongoing battle on the deck. Ardus faced off against two people simultaneously, and upon further examination, Korran made them out to be Bushy Eyebrows from the harbormaster''s office and the sinister man with the scythe from the bridge. He seemed to be holding his own, which Korran realized to be thanks to no small part to Scythe''s disinterest in working as a team with Bushy Eyebrows. Ardus showcased his experience by staying on the defensive, enticing the scythe wielder to chase him and keep Bushy Eyebrows from making a significant addition to the fight in the short period Korran observed. Not far from them, Mathis seemed to have his hands full. Despite facing only one person, and having the help of Wulfur, who evidently had found purchase once or twice with his fangs, judging from the blood decorating them. Petra stood off to the side, looking rather worried and helpless as her companion risked his life. Their opponent was also from the bridge - the well-built man with crystal blue eyes who had stopped the scythe wielder. When Fiona finally surfaced, Korran gestured toward Mathis'' predicament and made his way forward, staying out of the fighter''s line of sight. Fiona caught the hint, following along behind him in a similar crouched position. It was child play sneaking up on those focused on a battle, with only Petra being a position to notice them thanks to her distance. Korran made a shushing motion before she could reveal their powl and she obeyed. Korran got as close as he possible before breaking into a light jog to close the remaining distance just as Blue Eyes - Koko, knocked Mathis'' off course and went for the kill. He paused mid-way, somehow feeling the threat of Korran a mere second away from being stabbed. He whirled around, not in time to completely dodge the blade but the movement made Korran miss his lung and instead penetrate his rib. Koko lashed out instinctively, causing Korran to duck under the man''s fist, but he didn''t move in time to dodge the spear of Mathis burrowed into his shoulder. He made a grab for Mathis'' embedded spear but he pulled it out quickly and his next thrust caused Koko to retreat backwards with a hiss. "Where''s Alaric?" Korran asked an exhausted Mathis. Mathis'' eyes wearily inhaled Korran and Korran could''ve sworn his complexion was a bit sickly for whatever reason. "He went after their leader in that superstructure there. The guy appeared plenty strong, too." Korran considered the situation, noting Mathis'' heavy breathing and Wulfur''s apparent ineffectiveness against the man. It might''ve been better to stay there, aiding the tiring Mathis and Wulfur to ensure they won against the man, but there was a lot riding personally on Alaric''s survival for Korran. He wasn''t sure Alaric would even need help, but that also meant he wasn''t sure he didn''t need it. He made up his mind. "I''ll go after Alaric, Fiona you stay here and help them defeat this guy." Korran expected some resistance, with the headstrong Fiona claiming that she could go after Alaric instead of him, but none came, only a muttered okay. Korran examined her, noting her strained expression. He''d forgotten about the ghastly wound on her back and despite her determination, it seemed to be bothering her. Korran leaned over to her, "Go get healed by Petra. Before you complain, think about yourself operating as deadweight in this fight. You''ll just hold back Mathis with that; besides, it''s about time the girl becomes useful in this fight." Fiona''s expression darkened but Korran turned away before she could get out her words. He looked curiously at Koko, who seemed content to watch the situation unfold without attacking. In contrast to his scythe-wielding buddy, he was extremely laid back and seemed more focused on occupying them than anything else. He caught Korran watching him. "Going in after Borus and your friend, are you? I imagine he''s gotten bored of that noble pretender by now and he''s on his way up to the Gods. If you hurry you may get a chance to say goodbye, though you may join him soon."Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. Korran spared him only a second. "I''ll bring back this Borus'' head for both you and the Gods you speak of." Korran opened the door warily and the scene he chanced upon made him unconsciously hold his breath. The man, Borus he assumed, sported a large ridiculous blue afro, but what made his breath catch was the fact he stood over a downed Alaric. Immediately, Korran came to a conclusion; he would not be able to defeat this man if he held back even an ounce, especially with his rib giving him trouble. The man simply had a dangerous air about him. Korran took a deep breath then another, starting a rhythm where he took timed rapid breaths that expanded the alveolar sacs in his lungs, significantly increasing the surface area available for gas exchange. This was only possible thanks to his lungs being trained from practically birth to withstand the strain the technique put on them over time. He charged toward the unsuspecting man and reached him before the door even closed. It was tempting to attempt at the man''s critical organs with a well-placed dagger strike, but in this state, he couldn''t be sure some killing intent wouldn''t leak out and warn the man, so he prepared a bare fist instead. His punch connected with a satisfying crunch, the man''s head snapping backward with such force that one might think his neck was broken. Korran advanced as the man slumped toward the ground, eager to finish him off before he could recover. Warriors may frown upon sneak attacks but assassins didn''t share in that frivolous thinking. The only thing that mattered was being the one to walk away, not your opponent admitting they lost in an honorable battle with their last breath. However, things didn''t go quite as easily in a battle against truly skilled individuals. As Korran neared the man, he lashed out with the metal-encased shaft, landing a solid blow smack in Korran''s stomach. Immediately, Korran lost his breath, sinking to his knees with a torturous oomph. His mouth hung open involuntarily and he spat blood as he struggled to regain his breath. A headache surfaced as he fought for cooperation from his body, eventually regaining the ability to breathe after a grueling few seconds. Restarting the breathing technique wasn''t easy and it was beyond risky, but he forced himself into the breathing pattern and felt immense relief when the feeling of lightness enveloped his body. He looked up warily, the pain from his body residing, though his headache only grew. Borus stood with a wide grin adorning his features. He had a nasty purple bruise already starting to form on the cheek where Korran had punched him. "Now, you seem like more fun, fellow. Is this your friend, perhaps?" He asked, motioning to Alaric''s still figure. Korran spared a second to make sure the man was even still breathing before refocusing on Borus. Borus frowned. "You don''t seem too mad about-" Korran launched himself at the man. This was no time for chit-chat, especially when he was using this breathing technique which had a limit. Borus parried his first blow before attempting a counter attack, but Korran advanced forward like a dancer, his immaculate footwork and increased agility allowing him to weave around the big man, slashing him repeatedly with his daggers. He wasn''t able to try for a critical hit, but he could tell the successive cuts he inflicted were at least annoying Borus. An annoyed person was more likely to mess up when the weight of pressure found them. Sure enough, Borus made a wild thrust with his halberd, intending to predict Korran''''s course since he wasn''t able to keep up with his speed. Korran sidestepped the blow at nearly point-blank range, receiving a nick on his cheek as it passed by. He eagerly cut inside, sure that Borus wouldn''t be able to block his attack but the man had other plans. He dropped his weapon, moving forward to meet Korran''s charge with calculated certainty. Even in his enhanced state, Borus'' unpredictable movement caused Korran to not react in time as Borus lowered his head and barrelled into his stomach, pinning him to the floor with his superior weight. Korran could feel the man reaching for his halberd on top of him and adrenaline surged through his body. Out of instinct, he leaned back as much as he could, wrapping his legs around the man''s neck and pulling his left hand out in a leglock designed to break the hand while simultaneously putting pressure on the victim''s neck. He could feel Borus'' ample strength as he thrashed around, fighting wildly to break the hold, but Korran''s enhanced strength and experienced technique held against the man''s brute power. Korran put his all into the hold and truthfully, the man''s hand should''ve been snapped by now, but the beefiness was not for show. As the initial panic passed, Borus started to think rationally again. He braced his feet and started to bring his upper body up gradually, lifting Korran as he did. Korran wasn''t exactly in the heavyweight division, but lifting him with bone-crushing force on his neck and hand was still no small feat. Koran waited until Borus had almost reached his full height before completely releasing the hold, maneuvering in the air so that he pulled Borus'' head down by the shoulders where he became acquainted with Korran''s knee. His head snapped back, blood squirting from his nose as he stumbled backward. It was the perfect time for Korran to go for the kill, but his body faltered, his limit dangerously near. The analgesic effect of the breathing technique started to wane and his body started to feel heavy. Still, he pushed his body to advance on the stunned man, aiming a dagger at his heart. However, Borus had enough time to recover and grabbed Korran''s hand, the two initiating a battle of strength to stop or forward the dagger''s momentum. The shaking battle allowed for the two to come as face to face as their height difference allowed. Borus'' face was twisted into a bloodthirsty grin, the blood splattered across his face and pooled under his nose only aiding his crazy appearance. Korran recognized the crazy glint in his eyes; the look of a man who enjoyed the thrill of battle, and a strong opponent only increased the thrill. "Boss, we''ve been duped!" The men had been so enamored with their battle of wills that they hadn''t noticed the man walking up the stairs behind them. Frankly, the man had been so quiet that it shouldn''t be much of a surprise. Korran spared the new arrival a glance, noting that he wore a vest just like Bushy Eyebrows; he was probably a scout. "I''ve checked below and there''s no one here, and certainly no treasure. It''s completely empty." Korran suddenly fell forward as Borus stopped fighting against him and was promptly kicked away, his body roaring as he met the ground with a loud thud. He couldn''t maintain his breathing technique anymore, and his rib pain came back tenfold, with new aches attending to him from all over. He watched from his slumped position as Borus wiped his nose before retrieving his halberd. "I figured. We''ve been making quite a ruckus and not even the slightest movement from below us. They must''ve planned to disembark from here." Borus turned back to Korran, his smile returning. "You, boy. You don''t belong with such an inept team. I see a similar spark within you that resides in myself. The Greta Company is no simple foe, but together we stand a better chance at fattening our pockets. I suspect we''ll see each other again, I expect a response then." Korran could hardly digest the man''s words due to the pain that wreaked havoc on his body. He focused on the men''s retreating footsteps, satisfied when the door opened and closed with their presence gone. Korran was only dimly aware of Alaric standing as he welcomed the soothing embrace of darkness. Chapter Eighteen Alaric watched intently as Korran''s eyes fluttered open, scanning the rooftop of the carriage calmly before panic invaded his face and he bolted upright. "Calm down, Korran. You''re safe," Alaric assured him. "Where are we?" "Heading through the forest on a stagecoach we stole." Korran gingerly touched his rib, his eyes widening in surprise as he searched for the previous tenderness and stretched enthusiastically. Alaric stifled a chuckle. "According to Petra, you had a severely bruised rib along with many bone bruises - some minor and some not so much. I trust you''ll excuse her using her Pateral abilities on you given the circumstances." Korran face darkened as he glowered, but Alaric got the feeling he was just putting on a show. A grunt was the only audible acknowledgment he gave before busying himself looking through the coach''s circular window. Seeing Korran awake made Alaric think back to when he first regained consciousness on the ship. He had seen Korran and the man Ardus had referred to as Borus locked in a stalemate battle with Borus stopping Korran''s dagger thrust and Korran trying to overpower the man''s grip on his hand. Borus'' creepy grin had sent shivers down his spine but it was Korran''s face that had summoned goosebumps along his arm. Korran''s face hosted a truly bloodcurdling grin, a perfect reflection of Borus''. Korran was as much of a battle-loving maniac as Borus. Alaric coughed, dispersing the stray thought. "Thank you for saving me. I imagine I would''ve been halfway up to the heavens if you hadn''t interfered." "Just protecting my golden ticket," Korran replied curtly, not bothering to remove his eyes from the window. Alaric scratched his head idly, feeling a sense of dread rise within as he considered his next words. "I, uh, I heard what Borus offered you before he left." He couldn''t bring himself to outright ask him what he''d do, instead letting the unasked question hang in the air. It felt weird to think he''d become attached to the boy in such a short time, but he felt like he''d miss his presence if he left - not to mention he would be a formidable foe, judging by his ability to go toe-to-toe with Borus. This time Korran tore his eyes away from the scenery and eyed Alaric with keen interest. Was he about to demand more benefits for Alaric to keep his service? Alaric wondered. Korran''s eyes narrowed, "The only thing I owe that blue haired jester is a beating. That will be my response if he ever has the misfortune of laying eyes on me again." Alaric didn''t bother trying to hide the relief that washed over him. "Me and you both. Still, his offer has opened my eyes. I''ve been using you for my own motives, stringing you along with monetary promises and a pardon, but it''s high time I tell you the full story." "I''m going to stop you right there," Korran said with a raised brow, "You haven''t done anything my usual employers don''t, and they don''t for good reason. Agents of the underground aren''t to be trusted with the knowledge of big pictures, because big pictures can be sold for a price to the right person. I''m no city guard, pledging patriotism to the city''s will; I''m a thief of lives - a whisperer of death. You owe me no loyalty outside of the agreed payment." Alaric shook his head vigorously. "You can be more. What do you have planned after you receive your pardon? Start back your work until you end up in a similar situation, hiding away in caves and forests, unable to spend your bloodied gurdees to your heart''s content? I''m well aware of the risk of betrayal, but I feel it necessary to take the first leap of faith in this trust enveloped lake to show my goodwill." Korran still held a skeptical expression but Alaric detected some curiosity lingering as well. He didn''t interrupt this time, so Alaric continued. "Back in my birth city Heuldrik, my father, the Duke, has reached the age of retirement. My older brother is set to take his place very soon. My brother and I share different...views, he''s always been fascinated with war since a young child - the idea of leading armies and conquering land after besting an entire city. Now, there''ll be nothing holding him back from executing this dream. He''s already making plans to invade the neighboring cities, despite the years of peace our father and grandfather fought so hard for." "You''re planning to lead a rebellion against your brother," Korran finished, his curiosity giving in to interest. "Better than that," Alaric replied somberly. "I plan to create my own city, away from Heuldrik and my brother. Citizens will have the choice to relocate, or stay, but considering so many have felt the happiness of peace - I expect them to choose relocation." "And you think your brother won''t retaliate because you''re kin? If he is as war enthusiastic as you say, you''re only adding another city to be conquered, and given its infancy, it''s bound to be one of the easier targets." Alaric nodded. "That much is is obvious." He paused, thinking back to his childhood, growing up with his brother by his side, his fiery spirit ensuring that no one their age dared to cross either of them. For noble kids, the influence of families and status didn''t always scare each other, but his brother''s fists were always ready to nurse the brave. It was nauseating to imagine being on the other side of that same brother in a war now. "This is what my cut of the treasure is for, imbursing the Triffers who will be responsible for building the city quickly. The infamy I plan to gain as the leader of the group that bested the Greta Company will also be key, or at least I hope it will encourage warriors to join the army."The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. Triffers were Paterals who worked in groups, using their abilities to build infrastructure faster than otherwise possible. They were expensive but could build a large city in just a few weeks. Korran pondered in silence before he spoke again. "How do you plan on getting out supposedly a significant chunk of the city''s population? That sure sounds noticeable." "At night," Alaric said with a pensive shrug. "Some parts still need ironing out, but with the manor''s location, it''s possible. The hardest part will be not having him catch wind of it." "Funding a rebellion will be easier," Korran commented with a judgmental look. "I can''t believe I have to explain noble politics to a noble. This particular rebellion movement will be easier, since you''re next in line for dukedom. All you need is a rebellion presence to be the scapegoat for your brother''s assassination, then you''ll be the duke. No ridiculous spending or treasure hunting necessary." Alaric didn''t allow the thought to enter his head. "No. My brother does not deserve to be assassinated. I aim to capture him, but if he does fall, it should be in an honorary battle." Korran snorted and Alaric frowned. "Do you not have any family that you wouldn''t want to die so dishonorably?" Korran scoffed. "First of all; there''s no such thing as a dishonorable death, either way it is the end of life as you know it - it doesn''t need such human characteristics. Second of all," his expression darkened and Alaric saw the same darkness that he had seen when he faced off against Borus, "I''d assassinate any member of my family or clan if I had to. I owe them no loyalty, just like they failed to show me any." Alaric stared stunned at the boy. He opened his mouth, daring to prod further into what could make someone say such a thing, but the moment passed as Korran spoke again. "What is the point of telling me all of this, anyway?" Alaric mustered up the best genuine smile he could. His face hurt from the effort; Petra had healed him but she had warned him about phantom pain, though the pain felt very real at the moment. "The point is I''m offering you a position in this new city - all of you, really. A task force within the city''s army, aimed at training and commanding the platoons. Ardus has already accepted the offer. This job, as important as it is, is also a bit of a test." Alaric watched as Korran digested the information impassively. For all he knew the boy could be pleasantly surprised or disgusted with the idea; there wasn''t a single hint on his visage. Truthfully, Alaric hadn''t planned to reveal his complete plan this early, but seeing Korran with that crazed grin had compelled him to offer him a more subdued way to quell his desire for battle. Perhaps that made him selfish or arrogant, to think he knew what was best for the boy, but he couldn''t help himself. Above all, he wanted to believe the boy was only a prisoner of his upbringing and there was hope for him to overcome that darkness Alaric glimpsed. Mathis chose then to enter their compartment from the front carriage. His eyes lit up when he saw Korran. "I never thought I''d be saying this about you when we first met, but I''m glad you survived. Of course, if ships and I weren''t so incompatible, I would''ve gone and saved Alaric myself - but a decent job regardless." Korran didn''t seem to know what to say so he resorted to an awkward nod of acknowledgment. Fiona piled in after Mathis and shifted to the corner silently. "Ardus says we''ll be breaching the tree line soon. He sent us to get directions from you," Mathis announced. "Directions to where? They could be anywhere by now," Korran commented with a grim expression. Alaric spread out a map on the small wooden table in front of the small couch the two sat on. Although it wasn''t as detailed as he''d like, it was a blessing to find one in the carriage. "Not quite. We know for certain they were on that ship sometime yesterday, most likely in the morning. This means they couldn''t have gotten too far, but most importantly, we know where they''re headed." Mathis'' eyebrow raised. "We do?" "We do. To Duke Milto of Beanrite toward the southeast," he paused, motioning for Mathis and Fiona to draw closer as he indicated the spot in the southeast region of the map on memory alone, "there''s only a handful of paths they could take there. Considering the stunt they pulled disembarking the ship to throw anyone off their trail, we can''t rule out even the longest, complex paths." Korran shook his head. "Wrong. These men are supposedly carrying the Kaiser treasure, they''ll try to keep stops and the travel duration to a minimum if they know what''s good for them." "What makes you so sure?" "Because it''s what I would do," he replied confidently, "what any experienced criminal would do. You want to limit any chance of the job going wrong even if it causes you to take the most direct predictable route." He eyed the map on the table, "Tell me about the fastest paths." Alaric complied, detailing the characteristics he remembered from the more popular areas that crossed the paths. Korran held up a finger when he mentioned the Giluthe Plains, where merchants frequented since inquisitors guarded the frequent path. "That sounds like the most likely path; it''s a straight shot to Beanrite and if they travel under the guise of merchants, they can carry their treasure as a front for goods, drawing little attention and blending in. It''s almost perfect." Alaric felt like punching himself. It seemed so obvious now that Korran had pointed it out, but something had stopped him from seeing the clear. He felt his face burn with embarrassment and looked back down at the map, highlighting the course Korran outlined with a marker. Deep down he knew why; he didn''t think with the cunning of someone forced to keep a low profile, he''d certainly never been wanted. "If the plan is to intercept them, we''d better do a better job than we did capturing this carriage," said Fiona. Alaric grimaced, remembering the chaotic chase of the stagecoach, until Fiona stepped up and played the role of the damsel in distress, causing the stagecoach to stop and Ardus and Mathis to disarm the guards. It had been a much better plan than his, but he still felt guilty for taking advantage of innocent people''s kindness. Korran looked between them and shook his head. "I don''t want to know, do I?" Alaric imagined the boy would''ve devised a much more ruthless plan that disregarded the occupants'' wellbeing. "Regardless, it''s past time to take such a direct intercept approach. We''ve seen that the Greta Company is careful, and not overconfident in their intel not being leaked. Do you figure we''ll be seeing Borus and his crew again?" Ardus poked his head in from the front carriage, nearly jumping Alaric out of his skin. He hadn''t even noticed the man had brought the horses to a halt, so wrapped up in his thoughts he was. "They were a step ahead of us every step of the way, it seems safe to assume they''d also know who the Greta Company was hired by. A smile tugged on Alaric''s lips as a plan started to materialize in his head. "I hope you''re right."