《Aris Cretu》


 Chapter 1: Dead man Living

    Your pike block was ambushed from the flanks. The standard-bearer suddenly gurgled as an arrow tore his throat out. The Sergeant started barking orders, calling for the pike block to shift formation, but his voice was cut off as another arrow found his back.


    Everything went into the molasses-blink moments of combat. Scale-skinned and -clad swordsmen emerge from the forest on the left flank. You only see them because you stand at the front of the left-most column of your pike-block. Your greatsword is all but useless, slung across your back for the long march. You grab your morning star from its belt-loop and tun to face the foe... and are met with an arrow crashing against your helm. You fall backwards into darkness, the sounds of slaughter in your ears.


    You awaken sitting at a table. It is a heavy, oaken thing, its top scattered with paperwork. A single candle burns low, wax dripping down onto the quill resting against the ink-pot. You glance about in confusion, but can''t see anyone, or indeed anything beyond the dim glow of the candle. Not even a floor. Nonetheless, you hear a door open and then close again. Your eyes snap back to the table and you start in surprise as a black-robed and hooded figure sits down in front of you and starts shuffling through papers. It sighs, the sound of wind over bones. "Mr. Aris Cretu, of the Ironbark Mercenary Band, yes?" You can only nod in the affirmative. The figure sighs again. "Then I have a problem. You see, there are a few humans, that for whatever reason, the Gods won''t touch. Or can''t, but that''s immaterial. When they die, they wind up here, in my care."


    The figure pauses to change papers, so you decide to ask a question. "So if this is an afterlife of some sort, and I''m dead, what''s the problem?"


    The figure shakes its hooded head. "Not that simple. You have, of course, heard of Fate? How some individuals are Fated to have a great influence on their world?"


    You nod slowly. "You, whomever you are, are telling me I''m such a person?"


    The figures flicks a hand at the papers before him. "Possibly. Some of the futures are... clouded. What they may be, I literally can not say. Same goes for my Name, at least at this juncture. Simply put, the other Gods won''t or can''t claim your soul, and your thread, for lack of a better term, wasn''t supposed to end on that road. Someone, or something is playing games on a extra-planar and cosmic scale. And you, Aris Cretu, have a part yet to play."This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    You lean back and cross your arms across your chest, missing the feel of your heavy armor. "I''m guessing you can''t tell me what part either?"


    The figure flicks a document to the corner of the table, "got it in one."


    You pop your knuckles. "I was only a line-grunt, a ur-hander swinging a greatsword in the front ranks of the pike-block, but even I know that this smells like a ten-day rotten fish. What can you tell me?"


    The figure spreads its hands wide. "Only that I can give you a gift. I can give you your life back, perhaps more than once. In exchange, you live out your life to its natural conclusion, and look into this Meddler for me. I''ll know what you know, so don''t worry about making reports."


    "And if I refuse?"


    The figure folds its hands in its lap. "This is an offer you can''t refuse."


    You hold up one hand. "Alright. Can you at least let me know a few details about this offer then? For example, you said that you would know what I know. Does that include...?"


    The figure nods. "Everything, in absolutely perfect detail."


    "Aww, yuck!"


    The figure nods. "look at it from my side. I get no say in the knowing, but at least I don''t see it as it happens. Instead, it shows up as one of these reports." The figure gestures at the papers on the table between you two. "Obviously, they appear as something quite different to you then they do to me. but the one-step remove is often quite useful, as is the ability to replay events of particular interest. Or to skim over events of no interest, such as your... biological requirements."


    You nod, reassured that this... entity won''t be spying on your every moment in real time. And more so that it appears to have no interest in things not related to its objective, which is presumably stopping this ''Meddler''. "Ok, one other question. Define the ''natural conclusion'' of my life."


    The figure starts ticking off things on its fingers. "One, things like old age, or any death after the Meddler has been dealt with. You will know if this is a possibility if the physical manifestation of my gift vanishes. Two, if you die too many times in my service. I can bring you back, but not indefinitely. You will know this by examining my gift."


    "Ok..."


    "Ah, right! You mortals cannot see things that are yet to be. Well, not you anyway. " The figure produces a small obsidian ring, set with a single carbuncle gem and boasting two other empty settings. "This is the physical manifestation of my gift. Each gemstone it holds is another life you may yet live. The gems will appear on the ring as the influence of the Meddler lessens, and thus mine increases." The figure places the ring before you on the tabletop. "Take it, and return to your life. Hunt down this Meddler, for It will not stop hunting you."


    You pick up the ring. "So the ambush, the death of the entire Ironbark Band... Was just to kill me?"


    The figure nods.


    "That makes this personal." You put the ring on.

 Chapter 2: Sword-for-Hire

    Everything turns white for a long moment. Your gut wrenches as you return from wherever you were to the land of the living. Instinctively, you take a deep breath and scan your surroundings.


    The first thing you take note of is the stench. Voided bowels, spilled blood, and rotting corpses, strong enough to reach down you throat and make your stomach heave. The next things you notice are the weight across your legs and the fact that you can''t open your left eye. It''s not pinned in place by dried blood, as you half expected, but rather by the barest point of metal brushing against your eyelid. The broadhead! My helmet must have stopped it! Without moving your head, you tentatively reach up, and find the broken-off shaft more or less where you expected it to be, and pull on it. It comes free with the screaming screech of steel-on-steel, and you lift your head to see what is pinning your legs.


    It''s Sergeant Gork, the half-orc. You take in the arrows in his back, and start to piece together what must have happened to the Ironbark Band. You shove his corpse off of you, stand up, and look about. Ok, we got ambushed. I turned left and got hit in the face, and Gork would have done the same. But he got hit in the back, which means whoever those scaly bastards were, they hit us from both sides of the column. You look down the long road back towards the Jeweled Cites from where you had come all those days ago, ignoring the carpet of dead for a moment. And these damn back-country roads strung us out like minnows down a shark''s throat. Three hundred soldiers, strung out in a column only five wide, forest no more than ten feet back of the roadbed. Bows left and right, with swords to back them. We never stood a chance.


    With what happened fixed in your mind, you next turn towards survival. You are still wearing your chainmail armor, but you need to clean it off soon. To clean the stench of the dead off of it, if nothing else. Your backpack was crushed into the mud when you fell, and soaked with blood and worse soon afterwards, but your greatsword is still there. Your morning star lies a few feet away, and you figure your dead companions won''t mind overmuch if you scavenge some supplies that they won''t need ever again. You discard your backpack, it and its contents ruined, and start your search.


    The first thing you look for is the Ironbark Standard. Let''s see, Tam was front-and-center, so she was just off my right when we got hit... You find Tam in short order, and your battered spirits sink a bit lower. Damn. Standard''s gone. And with that, the Ironbark Mercenary Band is no more. Only one man left standing, no banner to rally new recruits, no officers or Records to carry on the long and glorious Traditions you had only two years to learn. Nine-hundred years of martial glory, snuffed out like a candle, just to get me. The Meddler certainly has substantial resources.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    After that comes the things you will need to get down the road to the frontier town of Chedal. The Ironbark Band was going to pass by and keep on to... where they had been contracted to go. You don''t rightly know where. If the Band is dead, and someone is out for my head, then I''d better hitch up with a guild of some sort. Caravan guard wouldn''t be too bad of a job... You let your thoughts wander elsewhere as you start the grisly task of picking over the battlefield. From the state of the bodies, it''s been a few days since you got hit, and someone else, probably the ambushers, has been through this task before you. Plus the animal scavengers have taken more than their fair share. You note and pointedly ignore the bits of bodies that the wolves have been working on. You come across a backpack that isn''t too badly stained, though its already empty. You start working back down the ranks. Pickings are slim indeed, the best things having been taken by others.


    In the end, you get just a bit more than you were usually issued during a resupply stop. One bedroll, not too badly worn. A mess kit, minus the spoon but with an extra knife. A tinderbox, somehow not soaked through. Ten torches, more then you will need on the open road. Ten days of hardtack rations, all but immune to scavengers and soldiers alike. A waterskin, empty but unpunctured. Fifty feet of rough, hempen rope. A deck of cards, dog-eared and battered from too many rounds of rummy. An extra set of clothes, more or less your size. And wrapped up in the shirt, a single large silvery coin. Platinum, worth ten gold if I can find a bank. Someone''s rainy day fund that they never got to spend. You also pick up a crossbow from one of the archers, and his bolt-box. You were never the one of the best shots, and your muscles got you handed a greatsword often enough during training, but some ranged weapon is better than none.


    With nothing left for you here, you set out for Chedal. It''s another five days away. Hope nothing wants me for a light snack... You do make one stop before first nightfall, where a wooden bridge crosses a small stream. The mountain water is ice-cold, but clear enough. You start by doffing your armor and the clothing you had on beneath it. You probably stink almost as much as the bodies back at the ambush, but you take a moment to use the water as a mirror, looking over your face. Same tanned skin, no pallor of the grave there, thank the Gods. Hair''s a bit darker though, almost as black as a raven. Need to shave, but it''s not bad enough to risk a dagger out here. my eyes though... grey not blue? I''m not blind though... You run a hand down your face, and then splash some water across it. You set about washing yourself and your clothing. Armor you save for last, and spend the rest of the daylight drying it off. Rust is steel''s worst enemy after all...


    Dawn comes soon enough. Hardtack rations are unappetizing, but you need to keep moving. You fill your waterskin from the stream before you leave

 Chapter 3: Chedal

    Four days out from where you died for the first time, you encounter farmland, and in the distance spot the wooden palisade of Chedal.


    Early on the next day, you approach the gates and are met by the town guards. One is an old greybeard of a half-orc, the other is a halfling. Greybeard stops you. "Ho there traveler, you seen a band o'' soldiers comin'' down the road? Supposed to pass through here six, seven days back but haven''t seen hide nor hair of ''em."


    You sigh. May as well tell them. Next caravan would bring the news anyway. "If you mean the Ironbark band, then you''re looking at what''s left of it."


    Greybeard drops his spear in surprise. "Yer shitting me lad. Ironbark, all the way out to our ass-end of the world? And they only sent you?"


    You hand Greybeard back his spear and shake your head. "The the full company was coming. I''m all that''s left."


    The halfling speaks up. "How does that happen? A bunch of militia like us I can understand, but Ironbark?"


    You snort. "Ambush. We got caught marching along, bored out of our skulls by miles of bad road and too damn many trees. Arrows from both sides of the road, followed up by an infantry rush. No time to form up, hit from the front and back like that. It was a massacre."


    Greybeard spits on the ground. "Shit. Professional hit. Best get o''er to the Guildhouse. Riben''s gonna need to hear that."


    You nod. "That''s my plan, but which building is it?"


    Greybeard shakes his head. "Only the one buildin'' with a slate roof in this town lad."


    You wince. That means leaky roofs everywhere then... "Alright, thanks." You trudge off, leaving Greybeard and his companion to worry. You spot the Guildhouse easily enough, the black slate marking it out from the thatch and wooden shingles of its neighbors. The top two stories help as well, leaving it towering over the one- and two- story buildings that dominate most of the town. Even before you knock on the door, you can hear a heated argument from inside.


    "Dammit Riben, You''ve known me since I was a girl! Don''t you start with the ''not ready for this'' horse-droppings!"


    "Aflia, Aflia..."


    "Don''t you ''Aflia, Aflia'' me! I''m not leaving until you give me a reasonable answer!"


    You open the door, and see a man you presume to be Riben seated behind a desk, a fiery-haired and -tempered Tiefling lady standing before it. Her dress is lightweight, particularly for this far north. Her tail peaks through a special opening, swishing back-and-forth in agitation. "Mr. Riben, miss Aflia, pardon my intrusion. My name is Aris Cretu, and there''s some news Mr. Riben needs to hear."


    Aflia turns around, and you get a decent look at her. Taller then you by six or seven inches, and heavier than you by a good thirty pounds of well-sculpted flesh. You expected the stereotypical red eyes, and red-tinged skin. You didn''t anticipate the horn-edged brow ridges, nor the speckling of tiny red scales at her throat. Scales! You freeze for a brief moment, remembering the half-second of life from right before you died, scale-skinned swordsmen streaming out of the trees...This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    Riben is sitting upright, his mouth making words you can''t hear. Aflia crosses her arms, her dress shifting to cover her throat. Reality resumes, as does Riben''s voice. "...it out man, what news?"


    You shake your head. "Sorry sir. Bad memory. The Ironbark Band has been wiped out."


    "WHAT!"


    You quickly relate the ambush that wiped out the Ironbark band, as best you can recall and reconstruct.


    Riben leans back in his chair and stares up at the ceiling. "Aflia dear, this is why I won''t send you out alone. You just are not ready for the life of an adventurer. And I think your father would agree with me. Perhaps once the Bad Moon clan is dealt with... Without Ironbark, I don''t know how Chedal can survive if they do come raiding."


    Aflia looks stunned.


    Weren''t expecting the real world to be so harsh were you? Welcome to reality miss Aflia. But if Chedal really is screwed over, then I need to keep on moving. Back to the Jeweled Cities? That won¡¯t do, not this soon after Westmarch. That means¡­ "Mr. Riben, is there a Ranger in this branch of the Adventurer''s Guild?"


    Riben looks thoughtful "Yes there is, why?"


    "Just thinking about something my Sargent said once. The Bad Moon clan are Orcs, right? If the Warchief were to die, wouldn''t the clan fight it out amongst themselves until a new warchief emerged?"


    Riben frowns. "I think Verra can pull that off, probably would enjoy it too. Crazy elf hates orcs something fierce, though she won''t talk about it."


    Aflia scowls at you. "That would involve a campaign of assassinations, which is hardly fair or legal, if I recall correctly."


    You shake your head. "Miss, what is worse, the death of a few dozen Orcs, or the death of the population of Chedal? If Ms. Verra can assassinate the Warchief, and then any likely successors to keep the Bad Moons tied up killing themselves, That will buy more than enough time for another mercenary company to arrive. Or the Bad Moons may decide Chedal isn''t worth the cost and go home."


    "Hmph! Just what I''d expect out of a brute of a soldier! But your logic is impeccable, if your basic assumption holds true."


    Riben grins suddenly. "Verra would probably wade right in anyway, if she hasn''t already. She''s missed her last check-in, but she usually does that if she''s out hunting. I''ll get ahold of one of the local druids, see if they can get a message to her. And I may have an answer to your request Alfia. Aris, you said you had ''bad memories'', but could you work with a Tiefling in spite of them?"


    Work with Aflia, he means. "Hair of the dog, sir. And its not Tieflings, I had some Tiefling squad-mates, good soldiers one and all. It was the scales. Only had about three seconds before something covered in scales almost shot my head off. Working with miss Aflia should help me get past that."


    "Then you''re hired. Aflia, you too. I''ve only two contracts available at the moment I''d consider suitable for a pair of new adventurers." He pauses, expecting either you or Aflia to say something. You are content to await orders, while Aflia is too stunned at her turn of fortune to protest. "One, Old Man Berkin has a rat problem down at the brewery. Two, there''s a bit of an ooze problem near the old watchtower. Grey one, eating the metal bits down in the cellar."


    hmm, the ''rat'' problem sounds simple enough, but there''s some missing information. Grey oozes are nasty against metal equipment, but Aflia should do just fine...


    <hr>


    Status Report:


    Money: 1 platinum coin


    Food and water: 5 days of hardtack rations


    Equipment: in good condition


    The Ring: obsidian band with three empty gem settings.


    Total Deaths: 1

 Chapter 4: Save the Beer!

    "I''d prefer to go after the rats, but I''ll defer to your judgement miss."


    Riben leans back, watching the scene.


    Aflia looks at you. "Oh? Why''s that?"


    You shrug. "I may not be the most learned man, but every soldier knows about grey oozes. They eat metal, right off your sword or off your body. With all of my war-gear being metal, and without the coin to replace all of it, that can be a real problem."


    Aflia grins. "Nice dodge. What I meant was, why let me decide?"


    Because Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned! "If we''re working together, then best to be partners from the beginning."


    Alfia nods, accepting your answer. "But wouldn''t the grey ooze be a bigger problem? Why not deal with it first?"


    "How many taverns does Old Man Berkin supply? And how many people visit those taverns and drink his beer every day?"


    "Ooooooh."If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    "Rats it is then?"


    Aflia shudders, but nods. "I don''t like rats, but that does seem to be the more pressing problem."


    You turn back to Riben. "But is it just regular old rats, or..."


    Riben nods again. "Spotted that, did you? Yeah, It''s big rats."


    Aflia shudders. "Eew! Eew, eew, eew!"


    You turn to look at her. "Why are you grossed out by rats? I''d have thought you would have to cut up one or something while you were at the wizard''s tower learning how to spell-sling."


    Afllia shudders again. "Sorcerer, not wizard. And the headmaster... wasn''t fond of Tieflings. So I got the basement quarters, which had a rat problem. Kept waking up with them running across my feet or tail."


    "Sounds like we need to pay this headmaster a visit, leave him a lingering prank or something."


    Aflia grins. "Already done. He had this big collection of scrolls, all neatly stacked and sorted. So I swapped about a third of them around. He probably spent a month fixing it, if he''s even noticed yet!"


    The three of you share a laugh at that, and some other humorous stories from your pasts, but soon enough it''s time to get going to Old Man Berkin''s Brewery.


    <hr>


    Status Report:


    Money: 1 platinum coin


    Food and water: 5 days of hardtack rations


    Equipment: in good condition


    The Ring: obsidian band with three empty gem settings.


    Total deaths: 1

 Chapter 5: Rodents of Small Size

    Aflia gathers her staff from beside the doorway, and she leads you towards the outskirts of Chedal. You pass four different taverns on the way, all of them reasonably full of patrons given the late afternoon hour. Perhaps I can get lodging at one of them? Or will the Guild put me up? They have to have rooms for employees in that huge building of theirs. Aflia makes a sudden left turn down an alleyway between a warehouse and the back wall of a fisherman''s market stall. You notice her gag slightly at the rotted fish smell, but you breath it in deeply. Reminds me of home. You catch up to her in a few steps when she slows down to catch her breath. "Was that a shortcut or an evasion?"


    "Evasion. The Sirens, a wharf-side gang, like to kidnap ''exotics'' to sell as slaves."


    As if they''d mess with a spell-caster and a soldier! "You do realize you are something of a certified bad-ass in your own right? Think they''d like to tangle with someone who can literally light their asses on fire with a word and a gesture?"


    "Probably not..."


    "But?"


    "How much would you pay for a dragon-blooded Tiefling slave?"


    "I''d cut the slaver''s throats."


    "So the Sirens would risk losing a man or three to make the capture. They''d make enough money off of the sale to make up for it."


    "No, I''d kill the slavers just for being slavers."


    "Oh."


    "And by-the-by, we''re going to have to deal with them at some point. They probably saw you, and pegged your evasion as exactly that. They''ll be after us like sharks with blood in the water."


    "Dung."


    You can''t help but laugh. "Miss, I''ve been a soldier for two years, and was a wharfside orphan and fisherman in Sapphire for sixteen before that. There''s nothing you can say that I''ve not heard before. We''ll deal with the Sirens if they decide to make a move..."


    "What?"


    "Take a right into a random alley, then two hard lefts right away."


    The sudden tension in your voice twiggs Aflia''s nerves. You can see it in the sudden twitch of her head. Instead of saying anything, she snaps a sudden right turn, picking up the pace as she vanishes into the alleyway. You follow. The sudden cursing from behind you confirms your suspicions. That was a Siren following us!


    You almost lose Aflia as she takes a hard left, then smoothly knocks on the door to a large warehouse. It opens right away, and you follow her inside and shut the door. You are slightly shocked to see her hugging an old man.


    "Little Aflia, all grown up! How you been, girl?"


    "I''ve been better and worse Binu. Old Man Berkin still keeping you busy?"


    "More his grandson Hobson nowadays, but the Old Man still has his fingers in as much as he can. You here about the rats?"


    "Yes."


    "I''ll call for Hobson then, I can''t get up and down stairs the way I used to, and neither can the Old Man. HOI MR. HOBSON! GUILD HERE TO SEE YOU!"


    A man in his thirties pokes his head out of an office, then notes your armor and Aflia''s robes and comes trotting out. "Only two? I requested a full team of at least four!"


    Aflia bristles, but you step in. "Mr. Hobson, I presume? Aris Cretu." You hold out your hand to shake.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    Mr. Hobson shakes it. Weak grip, dead-fish shake. Requested a ''full team'' of four people for a simple big rat problem? Worrier, probably wants to look more important than he is. "Well Guildsman Cretu, I hope you can fight well. The damn rats have a tunnel from our warehouse here to our brewing facility just behind the building. Tall enough for a man to walk through, though your associate may be bumping her head on the ceiling. I did buy some poison for the nest, hopefully that''ll be enough to get rid of them. Thing is, none of my men are willing to go down into the tunnel to place the poison, so I called in the Guild."


    Exterminator service work, and this guy wants to cheap out. No wonder Riben shoved this guy to the end of the priority list, and only sent us two. "All the more reason to only dispatch two people then Mr. Hobson. We''ll start at this end and clear the tunnel as we go. Any more would be bottled up behind us, and unable to help in a fight. If you can show us to the entrance, we''ll get to work."


    "Well, ok, but I''m not liable for your injuries when it all goes horribly wrong! This way..." He leads you off towards a staircase tucked into the side of the main storage area. He hands you a key and gestures to the door at the bottom of the stairs. "Basement is though there, tunnel came right in through the wall. Mind the bear traps we set, and good luck. Gods know you are going to need it."


    ¡±And the poison is where?"


    "Oh, one of the guys dropped it when they set the baretraps. Green bag, ''RatTox'' insignia on it."


    "Alright. Let your guys know on the other side so we don''t surprise anyone. They should hear us coming, but better to be safe then dead." You unlock the door and let it swing wide. Wielding a four-foot-long greatsword indoors is no fun, but you are used to doing so with less room to spare. You study the room before stepping in, noting the three bear traps. Two are set and ready, but the third has a rat in it: still alive. You set into the basement "Aflia, target practice time."


    Aflia take one look at the big rat in the trap and flicks her right hand. "Bolt of Flame!" A small blue bolt of fire races from her fingertips to slam into the rats head. The skull shatters, spraying smoldering brain matter over a good three feet of floorboard. Aflia takes one look at the results and gags.


    You shut and lock the door before stepping closer to examine the corpse fully. "First time killing anything?"


    "Y..Yes. Gods, the stench, how do you stand it?"


    You grab a handy barrel stave and deliberately trigger the other two bear traps so you won''t step on them by accident. "Acclimation, I guess? I mean, when someone dies, they tend to piss themselves and shit everywhere, plus the smell of their guts or whatever. Lots of people end up dead on battlefields, so you nose just shuts it out after a while. You never forget the smell though."


    You leave Aflia to ponder this, and master her stomach while you examine the big rat. Almost four foot long, from its shattered skull to the end of its tail, with three-fourth of that body. You use what is left of the stave to pry its gums open, sighing in relief when you don''t see the tell-tale frothing. Not diseased, thank the gods. But where there is one of these things, there are usually more right behind. You take a loot at the tunnel. Mr. Hobson was right about one thing, I can actually walk upright through that. Rats wouldn''t need something that big. Sabotage? Not for me to deal with, We¡¯re just contracted to remove the rats.


    Aflia joins you in staring at the corpse. "I think I''m good to go, but I''m glad you are leading the way."


    "You see that poison anywhere around here?"


    "Yeah, about two feet to your left."


    You turn your head to look, and shake your head in frustration. Just like that cheap bastard. "Common rat poison. Won''t do crap to the nest, these things are just too big for it to work on. Handle with gloves anyway, just in case. Next up, tunnel clearance one-oh-one. I''ll take point, you follow along behind me, about three feet back. If the tunnel widens out, hang back and cover my flanks. Only one way forward, and we won''t leave any of these things alive behind us, so don''t worry about something coming up behind us too much. Ready?"


    You can hear her gulp as she gathers the sack of RatTox into an empty grain bag. "I think so."


    "Alright. Stay with me, and we''ll work our way through this." You enter the tunnel, and Aflia follows along behind. Not quite on my own, but at least she shouldn''t panic or break down until we''re out the other side...


    Indeed, Aflia doesn''t. You do the bulk of the work, half-swording your way through another two rats, with her bolts of fire picking off a third as it tries to run from the nest. Aflia dumps the entire bag of poison over the pile of hay that the rats were calling a nest, before you exit the tunnel into the basement of the brewery. A thankful mr. Hobson offers you some complimentary ale as thanks, but you politely decline. You have more work yet to do this night, and you want to be clear-headed for it.


    <hr>


    Status Report:


    Money: 1 platinum coin


    Food and water: 5 days of hardtack rations


    Equipment: in good condition


    The Ring: obsidian band with three empty gem settings.


    Total deaths: 1

 Chapter 6: Siren Song

    Upon exiting the brewery, you stick close to Aflia and speak to her in a stage whisper, just loud enough for her to hear, hopefully drowned out in the noise of the crowd. "Ready to take a crack at the Sirens?"


    Aflia looks at you stunned, then responds in the same low voice, "you are quite mad. No one challenges the Sirens on their home turf and wins."


    "I caught a look a the punk trailing us earlier. Human, cheap clothes, cheaper knife. Their strength lies in numbers and intimidation. Their habit of picking off ''exotics'', probably all non-humans, will have kept their members to just humans. I''ve seen more non-humans than humans in Chedal, so they won''t have that many members. Plus, we can count on the support of any people they have enslaved, even if only to stay out of the fight and get away."


    Aflia ponders this over for several moments. "I see what you are getting at, but do you really want to start a fight between the Guild and the Sirens?"


    "They did when they tried to make a move on you. No point in sitting on our hands. I want to hit them tonight, kick them to their knees, put the fear of the Gods in them, and make them really regret picking that fight."


    "If you can convince Riben, then I''m in."


    "Lets go check in then, let him know we finished up our contract."


    When you re-enter Riben''s office, he is leaning back in his chair, with his feet kicked up on a drawer. "How did it go?"


    "Four big rats dead, the client''s ''rat poison'' dumped on the nest, no injuries, no collateral damage."


    "Think the rats will be back?"


    "Probably not. We got the breeding pair and their offspring, but Mr. Hobson''s ''poison'' was just regular rat poison and won''t do a thing to Big Rats."


    "My read of that situation too. He''ll come bitching and moaning, looking for a refund or discount if another set moves in. I''ll deal with that if and as it arises. Housekeeping got a pair of rooms set up for you two. Fourth floor, 403 and 405. Doors are open, keys are on the bedside table. Part of the benefits package."


    "Thank you sir!"


    Riben glances from you to Aflia and back. "Why do I smell something else cooking?"This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    "The Sirens tried to kidnap Aflia. We shook their tail."


    Riben comes back upright. "Then they just made a mistake. I''ll start calling in some assets, see if we can get something organized."


    "With respect sir, they''re a bunch of jumped-up punks. Might be more than a few of them, but a half-squad of soldiers would go through them like grog through a sailor. With a sorcerer in support, I can take any six of them and win. Start calling in assets, but let''s start hitting them tonight, hitting them where it hurts before they can cover up."


    Riben runs a hand through his hair. "Ok, I''m listening."


    Aflia leans forward, intent on hearing what you propose.


    "We know they grab non-humans for sale as slaves. We know they tried to grab Aflia, despite armed and armored escort. That indicates either a special commission or desperation trying to fill out a quota on an upcoming shipment. They must store their captives somewhere, probably in a warehouse down near the wharves. Do we know where?"


    Riben nods slowly. "Verra pegged them as using the old warehouse at the end of the number two pier for that purpose before the Bad Moons started making noise."


    "Then we have a target sir. Open the fight by stomping right on their throats and then keep the boot there. Aflia and I go in tonight, break out what slaves we can, and get them out. We should have more people and more targets in the coming few days, and we keep hitting them. Never give them a chance to get back on their feet."


    Riben cocks an eyebrow at you. "City Guard won''t take that laying down."


    "Then pull them in on our side after we open the fight. If they''ve been turning a blind eye to the Sirens, they are either scared or bribed. Seeing the Sirens get taken down a peg should stiffen their spines, and cause any bribed guardsmen to consider becoming unbribed. Wouldn''t do them any good to get caught when their fellows start sweeping up the pieces, so they''d have to prove their usefulness by leading those same sweeps and catching some Sirens."


    Riben nods slowly, then more quickly. "I know a guy in the guard I can trust. Old half-orc, got demoted to gate duty under murky conditions."


    You nod, "I think I met him. Greybeard, almost bald, seen damn near everything and still here?"


    Riben grins at you. "That''s Old Mork to a T."


    You grin hugely. "If he''s been in the guard for that long, and lived, then he knows were all of the dirty little secrets are buried."


    Riben grins back at you. "We have a plan."


    Aflia shakes her head, "how long did you two rehearse this number?"


    Riben nearly falls out of his chair laughing. "We didn''t. I''ll wake you two hours before dawn?"


    "Two hours before dawn it is."


    <hr>


    Status Report:


    Money: 1 platinum coin.


    Food and water: 5 days of hardtack rations.


    Equipment: in good condition.


    The Ring: obsidian band with three empty gem settings.


    Total Deaths: 1

 Chapter 7: 04:00

    You head on up to your room, intent on getting what sleep you can. When you reach the top floor, you and Aflia do a quick round of stone-parchment-shears for who gets to pick their room, but you needn''t have bothered: both rooms are functionally identical, containing a bed, a table, a basin, a bureau, and space to put a few other items of furniture like and armor stand. You end up in 405. You doff your armor, arrange your few possessions, lay on the bed and promptly fall asleep.


    You awaken some hours later, your brain switching instantly on. You lay there for a long moment, listening to the utter silence before your nose picks up the thing that has woken you. Cherry Bean Tea. Black, triple-brewed, pinch of salt. Thank you Riben! Your door cracks, and you accept the hot mug with a grunt of thanks. "How''d you know?"


    "I asked Mork."


    "Thanks." You drink from your mug and begin donning your equipment without bothering to light a candle. You listen to Aflia grumble and grouse from next door as she prepares herself. Ok, no-one is going to be on the streets, and any lookouts should be half-asleep or more. Probably more, they haven''t had a serious threat in... too long. Best not to be walking about with weapons visible though... You don''t have a cloak, but a sheet turned sideways is long enough to cover your greatsword. Probably should bring some extras for any ex-slaves. Not as good as outright clothing, but better than nothing. You gather the sheets that you can, including scavenging one out of Aflias room, with her permission of course.


    Thirty minutes later, you and Aflia hit the deserted streets. Aflia leads the way again, robe-clad to hide her tail and features. Before long, you can smell the saltwater in the air. That''d be the bay. Can''t remember which one, never really paid any attention to the maps. Has to open up the the sea north of the Jeweled Cities though, which means near the border of the Elven kingdom of Althiem. Wonder if that''s where the Sirens are sending their slaves?


    The sound of waves crashing against the piers joins the smell of salt in the air. You spot the warehouse easily, as its the only one with a candle or lamp illuminating a window and a Siren guard by the door despite its run-down condition and the time of day. You and Aflia duck into an alleyway to consider how to approach the guard in hushed tones.


    "I don''t have anything quiet, and... well..."


    "You hadn''t killed anything before yesterday. Don''t worry about it, you did fine."


    "I damn near threw up!"


    "That''s normal after a fight. I''d be more concerned if you didn''t freak out a bit after killing something."


    "So how are we going to deal with the guard up there?"


    "It needs to be quick. Quiet would be good too." You eyeball the guard, noting its head drooping down to its chest before snapping back up. What the hell, dumb idiot is already halfway asleep. "Here, take my ''cloak'' "


    "Huh?"


    "I need my hands free for this bit. Wait here until things get loud, then come in fast." You hand her the sheet, loosen your greatsword in its sheath, and start walking down the street on the same side as the guard. You hear Aflia''s confused yelp behind you, but you keep going. You draw your morning star, but keep it down alongside your leg. Alright, two swings, kick the door, start the dance. The guard''s head comes up when you are five feet away. Hate doing this part cold. Here goes...


    The Guard looks up, giving you a good look at a beardless youth who doesn''t know any better. I could''ve gone all day without seeing that. "Huh? Who?"


    You bring the mourning star up underhand into his belly. His breath hisses out as he doubles over in agony. His hands start to clutch at his bleeding stomach. You don''t give him time to scream. The second blow is a swift overhead that ends in the distinctive meat-cleaver crunch of a shattered skull. That made some noise. You drop the bloody mourning star back into its belt-loop and draw your greatsword. Time to make some more. You gesture for Aflia to start moving, take a step back and put a boot right through the half-rotted door.


    "AILAILAILAILAILAILAILAI"[1]


    You war-cry is loud enough to wake the whole damn city, shattering the pre-dawn silence with the sound of war. The two Sirens standing around right inside the door are caught flat-footed. The one on the left dies as your greatsword takes him in the chest. The one on the right has enough time to try and draw his weapon before you recover and slam the cross guard though the bridge of his nose, leaving him to bleed out on the ground. Speed and momentum are critical now. Can''t stop, won''t stop. Where are the slaves? You crash right though the next door, entering into the warehouse''s main storage area as Aflia comes in behind you. Another Siren dies as he tries to charge you down with a shiv. You glance about furiously. Two-room office on the far side? Upstairs? A cellar? A fifth and six Siren come at you. One eats a face full of FireBolt, the other folds in half as you gut him.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    YAWP!


    Warcry! Where? The office door bursts open and you have your answer. A purple-robed man wielding a warmaul emerges, leveling it at you. "TIME TO DIE, FOOLISH MANLING!"


    "Bring it ugly." You ignore the handful of Sirens bailing out the other exits. Rats fleeing a sinking ship. You take three steps forward, clearing the bloody floorboards where you were at risk of slipping.


    Purple Robes raises the warmaul over his head and takes a running charge at you. Idiot. Ceiling is too low... Indeed, the warmaul bounces off a beam and you easily side-step its decent.


    Aflia darts past you, headed for the office and the soon-to-be ex-slaves in its back room.


    You take a cut at Purple Robes, but he avoids it.


    Purple Robes responds with a sideways sweep, having learned his lesson from last time. It only strikes you a glancing blow, but that is enough to wind you. That hurt a bit.


    A flash of light, presumably another FireBolt, emanates from the back of the office.


    You take a deep breath and get back in the fight. Blood-pool and corpse was there... You take a long horizontal swing. Purple Robes dances back out of range easily... exactly as you wanted him too.


    Purple Robes wind up for another impressive swing... and trips over the disemboweled Siren you left spilled on the ground. His warmaul goes skidding away.


    A figure emerges from the office, but you don''t have time to look closely at it.


    You take a moment to grab the warmaul and fling it back towards the office. Now lets see how you fight¡­


    Purple Robes gets back to his feet, unperturbed by how the blood has ruined his robes. He glances about, looking for his weapon, then his eyes go huge.


    "Payback time, snake-dick. Told you this day would come." A black figure rushes past you, warmaul in hand. Female Elf? Drow? Ask later, fight now!


    You take advantage of the distraction to sidestep and take a cut at Purple Robes ankles from behind. The strike connects, and Purple Robes goes down. It''s the only thing that saves his life, for the moment.


    Purple Robes doesn''t even try to get back up, letting the warmaul swing over his head. He rolls aside, hoping to dodge any follow up strikes.


    The black figure gathers the warmaul back in and chops down as if she was splitting a log. She misses the beams, but connects with Purple Robes, who howls in agony. Shit, she had to hit him there? Now I know I''m gonna have bad dreams.


    You quickly put Purple Robes out of its misery by slicing his throat wide open. "Alright, questions later, we need to head out. Name''s Aris Cretu. Any more slaves back there we need to free before we burn this place down?"


    "Talae Telenna. Little Bird and the Tiefling should have the princesses free by now."


    You kneel down and pull back the robes to reveal more about the ex-leader of the Sirens. "Aw, hell." Fuck, this guy has to be related to whatever group took out the Ironbark band! Scale-covered face, serpent brand/tattoo on his chest and left arm...


    Talae looks down at your exclamation, then shoulders the warmaul. "Safe is in the office, I''m smashing that open. We''ll swap questions and answers later."


    You follow after her. "I''m grabbing papers, we need a link on where Purple Robes came from."


    Talae takes a swing at the safe, to predictably little effect. "Right, plots in the dark. Grab quick, talk later."


    Aflia comes out of the back room leading an avian figure and three small children. "All clear back here!"


    You rifle through the desk, looking for anything incriminating without much luck. Fuck this, need to get clear before the Town Guards show up. "Right, we''re heading out! Talae, leave the safe, we can try again if it survives the fire! Aflia, bonfire time!"


    Aflia looks surprised at this change in plans, but then glances at the back room and her face hardens. "On it. Little Bird, lead the princesses to the door please? This place is going up in flames in about thirty seconds."


    Talae''s eyes grow wide at the proclamation. "Let me grab a robe first!" She snags two off a hanger in the office before heading after the departing Little Bird.


    You shove what looks like a pile of business papers into a satchel from the same hanger and follow her. Aflia follows a moment later, backing out of the building and gesturing to the corners of the room. She utters the phrase "Bonfire Ignite!" several times, and the warehouse is quickly set ablaze.


    You take a moment to make sure the building is fully aflame, before following Aflia and the ex-slaves back up the road, heading for the Guild House.


    <hr>


    Status Report:


    Money: 1 platinum coin


    Food and water: 5 days of hardtack rations


    Equipment: in good condition


    The Ring: obsidian band with one carbuncle gem and two empty settings


    Total Deaths: 1

 Chapter 8: Backstories and Complications

    Your little convoy makes it back to the Guild House without incident but the rising column of smoke behind you points to an interesting day ahead. You check in with a bleary-eyed Riben, but the real first order of business is washing up and getting everyone decent clothes, food, and room assignments. You head for the armory, looking to get your gear taken care of. Wouldn''t do to have all the blood rust my wargear solid.


    An hour and a half later, you put down the whetstone and shake the filings from your shirt. You could use a bath, and that probably means drawing water and boiling kettles if you want a hot one. So when you enter the bathing area, you are surprised. Segregated by gender, of course, but why the tile on the floor and the walls? And what the heck are those metal things? Knobs? And some sort of projection above head level? Where are the tubs? The kettles? You stand there utterly confused for some time before Riben wanders in.


    "First time seeing a communal shower? Lockers are over here."


    "Umm, what''s a shower?"


    Riben nearly slips on the tiles. "You come from the Jeweled Cities, and you''ve never even heard of a shower? How did you get clean?"


    You shrug. "Streams and rivers mostly, the harbor was too salty. Inns and Taverns had tubs, but they cost too much for the same result. Nice and warm though."


    Riben scratches his head. "Oh, right, docksider. Sorry, most of the Jeweled City-types we get out here are rich nobles or stuck-up merchants."


    You laugh. "Same kind of person then. Mind showing me how to use one? And explaining how it works?"


    Riben shrugs and starts undressing, placing his clothes in a locker. You follow suit. In short order, you learn how to work the shower, absorbing Riben''s explanation of a few well-leveraged heating charms to generate hot water in tanks. "It''s not infinite though, as it takes some time to heat up."


    "Right. Red knob for hot water, blue for cold then?"


    "You got it. Breakfast is being served soon, so don''t linger too long."


    You don''t linger long in the shower, once you figure out that the hot water is actually rather hot. Drying off, you reclaim your things and follow your nose to the dining hall. Aflia and Talae are already there, and you gather up another mug of cherry bean tea and settle in. Aflia is in her usual robe, and Talae has found a loose-fitting brown shirt and pair of pants.


    Talae looks at you over a small mountain of food and raises an eyebrow. between bites, she jumps right in to asking questions. "Not eating this morning Aris?"


    You shake your head. "Not till lunch, perhaps dinner. I can''t keep anything down after a fight. You on the other hand..."


    Talae shrugs, a display of supreme indifference. "Haven''t eaten properly in days, and I''ve probably seen more bodies than any three surface-dwellers combined. Comes with growing up on the fringes of the underdark I guess."


    Aflia leans back, watching the by-play.


    You shrug. "During the Westmarch winter war, I stopped even trying to keep track of the squadmates I lost, much less the number of dead. But the killing doesn''t get any easier. Probably going to be sleeping poorly tonight."


    Talae drops her fork. "Are all you surface dwellers so open about your weaknesses? If all it takes is a bit of bloodshed to soften you up, you''d have been spider-food where I came from."


    You shake your head. "I don''t fear the fighting, and I pity the fool who tried to kill me in my sleep. You tell me one of your fears, I tell you one of mine."


    Talae plays with her fork, a look of indecision on her face.


    Aflia chimes in, "for me, its water. Not the drinking kind, the lake-and-sea kind. My parents are Dragonborns, and I have a lot of fire-magic. None of which does me any good considering it won''t work in water and I can''t swim."


    Little Bird comes in and joins you at the table, clothed in an odd-looking garment. It hangs down from her shoulders, and is clearly slit to allow her wings and tail freedom of movement. A belt gathers it at her waist, before it hangs in tassels below her knees. She sets her modest plate of food down on the table. "Icebreaker time, personal fears edition? Mine is petrification, getting turned into stone. We Aarakocra are airborne most of our lives. Most of us fear being grounded, But I''ve lived in forests for too long to fear that. I''m terrified of being stuck in one place, never moving ever again."Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    You nod. "For me, growing up fishing in Sapphire Bay, it was the storms. They came right up off the Anvil and Tiassa Reef. Thunderheads to blacken the sky, winds to rip sails from masts and mast right out of ships, rainfall heavy enough to drown a man. The really bad ones didn''t just rumble though all majestic-like. They got sadistic. They''d come roaring in out of nowhere and then just sit right over Sapphire for days. Gods help you if you weren''t already on-shore when one of them came in."


    Talae looks down at her food, no longer hungry. "Mine is my battle-rage. I lose track of what''s happening, what''s hitting me, what I''m killing. I feel like I''m losing myself."


    You put down your mug and reach out to take one of her hands. "Been there, done that. Westmarch was like that. Everything was cold, or frozen, or numb. You couldn''t think, you could hardly see, and the fighting just wouldn''t end. The important thing is to know when the fighting stops, to know that you still have a squadmate, a friend, there with you when it all over."


    Talae nods slowly. "I never really had a friend, not until I came to the surface two years ago and Little Bird found me."


    You squeeze her hand, then collect your mug. "So you have someone to fight for as well as against." You turn to Little Bird, "I''ve been meaning to ask, is ''Little Bird'' really your name?"


    Little Bird shakes her feather-covered head. "No, it''s Khuk" She makes a odd, guttural-sounding chirp, something that you''d be hard-pressed to reproduce. "But that''s hard to say for many people, so Little bird is just fine by me." Thank the Gods I don''t have to even try to reproduce that throat-breaker!


    Aflia sips a dainty cup of tea. "So what brings an Aarakocra out on her lonesome? All the books I''ve read put you guys way up in the mountains, out of reach of nearly everyone else."


    Little Bird pecks at her food. "Pilgrimage. I wanted to see more than a few places before going home to raise a nest. Then I found Talae, and religion."


    You raise an eyebrow, "how can one go on a pilgrimage without a religion?"


    Little Bird flexes her wings. Bird shrug? "We live fast and die young. I''m only three, but will only live to thirty. So I left home to see the world and called it a pilgrimage so my parents wouldn''t come after me."


    Aflia nods, "I wouldn''t know how that feels. As soon as my magic started showing, my parents all but threw me to the tower, just to be rid of me."


    You and Talae both raise eyebrows at this, but Talae beats you to the question. "Why? I''d have thought having a magic-user as a daughter would be a boon?"


    Aflia takes a bite. "There''s an old surface saying about Tieflings; One''s a curiosity, two''s a conspiracy, three''s a curse. Somewhere way back in one of their bloodlines is a daemon, probably an incubus or succubus. Neither one wanted to admit it, so they wanted me out of the house just as fast as they could. When my scales started showing in my sixth winter, it was off to the mage''s tower to learn spells. What about you?"


    Talae shakes her head. "Ran away from home soon as I could. Too many siblings, too many daggers looking for backs. Found something of a cult to Kuko, though its an open temple up here on the surface, and joined up. They got discovered, and the local ''preachers'' decided to send in the knives. Everything went to pieces, but I got out and made my way to the surface."


    You almost do a spit take. "Kuko? She of life and love? Why in the nine hells would anyone object to her? I mean, isn''t her faith fairly non-confrontational?"


    Talae shakes her head. "Power games. Down in the Dark, no threat is tolerated, no insult is too small. We never had a real Cleric, so it surprised the hell out of me when Little Bird started glowing.¡±


    Little Bird bobs her head. "It''s an... unusual experience to have a Goddess speak to you."


    You shake your head. "I know exactly how that feels." Instantly, everyone is looking at you. Sigh. Well, may as well lay out the essentials. "Talae, you noticed my reaction to snake-head back at the warehouse?" She nods. "Games within games at the highest levels, and someone picked me as a pawn the day Ironbark got massacred. Well, that was the day I found out anyways." Best not to tell them everything... "Figure in a dark robe jumps into my head, or pulls me into his while I was knocked out. Not sure which. Pretty much tells me I''m a pawn on one of the boards, and that Ironbark was wiped out just to get me, and that it was either find out who and mess their plans up, or end up messily dead in an alleyway somewhere. Snake-head had the same appearance as the guys who wiped out Ironbark, and he had a serpent brand or tattoo on his chest. I''m hoping some of the papers, or the contents of that safe will lead me back in their direction."


    Aflia and Little Bird both lean back, questions clearly bubbling up. Talae shrugs and digs back into her food. "I''m along for the ride then. Got a score to settle with those child-breakers." Little Bird and Aflia both nod.


    Whatever they saw in that back room, I''m glad I didn''t. "OK. I head you call the little Elves ''princesses.'' Of Althiem?"


    Little Bird bobs her head. "Yes."


    Aflia whistles. "A cult with that sort of reach?"


    Talae nods, "and they got their fangs into three of royal blood who shouldn''t even be out of the nursery yet. Someone has a massive security problem."


    Little Bird holds up her taloned hands, "we can''t just leave Chedal! Not with Orcs on the warpath!"


    Aflia sips her tea. "The Bad Moon clan. Verra is already working on them." She sips at her tea again, hiding a grimace, "but that won''t stop them if they decide to make a run at the town."


    You rap your fingers on the table top. "Breakfast now, then rest and recover. I''m not planning on leaving until the Sirens are stomped out, and I''ve wrung every lead I can out of them first. That means we''ll be going back out as soon as we have a target and a clear shot at it, so we should rest up and be ready. If the Orcs get in the way of that, then that''s just too bad for the orcs."


    Nods circle the table, and you finish your mug of Cherry Bean tea. You rise to get some real food, your stomach settled down by the talking.

 Chapter 9: Elcis

    The rest of they day drags on, with you struggling to keep your eyes open through most of it. Riben has the expected run-in with the understandably irritated town guard, but keeps you and the rest of your party out of it. Aflia offers to take the party shopping to re-supply and re-equip, particularly as Little Bird and Talae have little more than the clothes on their backs.


    "Of course I''ll come along, but aren''t we all a little short on funds? I have some, but..."


    Aflia shrugs, clearly unconcerned. "The Guild does owe us for the Rat contract, so Riben should have a payment for us."


    You shrug in return. "If he ever gets free from butting heads with the Town Guard. We probably won''t see that until tomorrow."


    Talae shrugs, "I guess we..."


    Little Bird promptly swats Talae on the back with a wing. "No, we do not take by force. While you were trying to bash the safe, I did come across a pouch with a few gold coins in it, and this shiny rock. Perhaps it''s worth something?"


    You eye the small translucent green gemstone. Jade? That''s worth a few coins! "If that''s jade, then it''s worth a bit of money. We should get that sold off and then shop around some. Aflia, you know Chedal better than the rest of us, know a good place to go shopping?"


    Aflia eyes you up and down, noting the drabness of your common clothes. "I know a place, sure. Let''s grab Little Bird and Talae some wargear out of the store room and then head out. You are going to love Elci''s."


    It turns out that Talae and Little Bird don''t need much in the way of weapons, and less in the way of armor. At your raised eyebrow, Little Bird flexes her wings. "My feathers might be clipped at the moment, but armor gets in the way of flying, so I don''t bother with any." She picks up a mace and a light crossbow, with a box of bolts to go with it.


    Talae follows suit, selecting only a pair of handaxes and four javelins but no armor. "Armor just slows me down, limits my mobility. Plus it makes noise, which gets you killed down in the Dark."The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    You pinch your nose in mild irritation. "So I''m the only person in our party that can get hit and not leave blood all over the floor?"


    Little Bird bobs her head, "Though I can close most wounds with the blessing of Kuko."


    You can only shrug at this, and follow Aflia down the stairs to the street.


    Two hours and enough haggling to mildly irritate Aflia later, you have a small sack of gold coins, and are on your way to Elci''s, whatever that may be. Probably a clothing store, if Aflia''s look earlier meant anything. You heft the purse, feeling it weight, and most of this is going to vanish in short order, once these three get set loose.


    Still, the sign outside Elci''s is... less than impressive on the outside. The storefront isn''t immensely large, and the siding is common wooden shingles. Simple painted wood, without the spell-lights the pricey shops in Sapphire or Emerald used. It bears the image of a needle and thread, universal imagery for a tailor''s shop. The door is a bit interesting, featuring both a lower and upper half, each with its own doorknob. Aflia opens the upper half of the door, and the bottom half swings with it. One glance at the proprietress explains the door however. A short Gnome sits atop the counter, reading a book. Aflia promptly smothers her in a hug, gesturing for you, Talae, and Little bird to wander the aisles while she gets caught up.


    Talae and Little Bird exchange a knowing smirk and leave you bemused as they head off into the store. You glance around, trying to get a handle on what kind of clothing you can expect. The racks of clothes are clearly split between male and female, and further divided by small and normal sized people. You catch a glimpse of Talae''s white hair as she ducks down one of the women''s aisles. You head for the Men''s section, browsing over clothing. These is the usual selection of simple tunics and trousers, but you notice that the clothing starts to include leather and fine cloth as you continue to browse, in a large variety of cuts and fashions. Elci could make a fortune back in Sapphire with this kind of selection. All of it excellent quality too! Wonder why she''s all the way out here in Chedal? You shake your head to clear the thoughts away, and wonder instead what sort of clothing you should get for yourself.


    <hr>


    Status Report:


    Money: 110 Gold coins


    Food and water: 10 days of hardtack rations


    Equipment: in good condition


    The Ring: obsidian band with one carbuncle gem and two empty settings


    Total Deaths: 1

 Chapter 10: Outfits and Opinions

    You are tempted to splurge on a flashy green and orange silk shirt, but then you consider that you are also paying for the shopping spree of three women. Better to stay simple, keep my costs down. You select a sturdy pair of leather boots, a pair of tan pants with reinforced knees, and a dark blue tunic. Wouldn''t do to get this all muddy. You also pick out a rainproof cloak, and can''t help but grin when you automatically pass over the brown and green ones to pull a black one in exactly the right size from the back of the rack.


    You turn when you hear Talae whistle, beckoning you over towards the women''s section. Now what could she want? you bundle your selections under one arm and follow the sound. You spot Aflia headed for a section in the back, but Talae all but pounces on you, and Little Bird stoops soundlessly out from behind another rack. They each grab a shoulder and drag you deeper into the racks, nattering away about fabrics and styles and cuts and a dozen other things you can''t keep track of. Eventually you dig your heels in. "Alright girls, What''s so important that you need my opinion?"


    They promptly go silent. Talae scrapes one foot along the ground, "Well..."Stolen novel; please report.


    Little Bird bobs her head, swallowing a laugh. "Talae doesn''t know much about surface fashions. I''ve already made my selection," she hold up a set of neatly folded clothes, "I''ll need to alter the tunic for my wings, of course. Could you guide Talae, help her make some reasonable selections while I go see about getting that done?"


    Reasonable? What could she mean by that? "Sure Little Bird, I can do that." Little Bird promptly flutters away, leaving you with a flustered Talae. You cock an eyebrow, and Talae looks down at her feet. "Now what did she mean by that?"


    Talae slumps a little smaller. "Lets just say my picks were better for a temple then a street and leave it at that, ok?"


    Kuko worshiper, right, so probably something totally inappropriate. That would draw lots of male attention, all of it unwanted, and tick off a berserker in the doing. Woe onto the fool who rouses her ire! "Ok, I''ll leave it alone. now lets see what''s available..."


    <hr>


    Status Report:


    Money: 110 Gold coins


    Food and water: 10 days of hardtack rations


    Equipment: in good condition


    The Ring: obsidian band with one carbuncle gem and two empty settings


    Total Deaths: 1

 Chapter 11: Shadows Looming

    You let your gaze drift over the racks of female clothing. Practical would be good, but how practical is she willing to be? From what Little Bird said, and from her embarrassment, she was set to cause scandal in the streets! "I''d suggest something that can stand hard use, particularly if it''s also going to be your war raiment. For me, that can be one outfit, but for you, perhaps two?"


    Talae nods her head slowly, then more vigorously. "That makes quite a bit of sense. One kind of outfit for court, one for the wilds. I see there are some echoes of the patterns of the Dark in the Light. Let''s start with practical then?¡±


    Kinds of outfit? My purse is going to be empty before the morning is done... "Right then. Starting at the feet and working up" because I have to start somewhere... "Good boots. The Dark, as you call it, is all tunnels and stone?" You wait for Talae''s confirmation before continuing. "More mud and sticks up here. You''ll want something to match, I think." You lead the way towards a shoe display, steering for the work side of things. "Go ahead and browse, but don''t forget socks too. I''ll grab a cloak for you, and meet you back here." Now, where did Little Bird get to? I have a question to ask her¡­


    <hr>


    Little Bird pops her head up from behind a low shelf covered in folded cloaks. "Don''t tell me you ran away already?"


    "Nope, but I do have a question for you."


    Little Bird''s eyes go huge. "About what she picked on her own?"


    You shake your head. "No, I told Talae I wouldn''t pry into that. How old is she?"


    Little Bird''s eyes narrow speculatively. "Why do you want to know?"


    You sigh, "because Talae looked like a little kid with her hand caught in the candy jar. Elves don''t age the same way as humans, so I''m awful at guessing ages. How old is she?"


    Little Bird closes he beak and thinks hard. "If I''m converting Dark Cycles to years properly, than eighty or so? Is that adult for an elf?"


    That explains a whole lot. And terrifies me even more. "On the edge of. If Tam was telling the truth, elves become adults somewhere between ninety and a hundred years old and can live to near a thousand. So if Talae is only eighty or so..."


    Little Bird bobs her head solemnly. "A fledgling pushed out of the nest too soon."


    "And with Rage to make a veteran warrior shake. I''d best select a cloak and get back to her." You glance at the low shelf, and spot a curious looking cloak. Black, but the flat, light-drinking black of the deepest parts of a cave. Silvery threads trace an intricate spiderweb pattern. You let out a low whistle and reach for the cloak, but hesitate. Has to have come from down in the Dark, but how did it wind up here? And Talae has left that place behind. Chased or fled, it¡¯s a dead and buried part of her past now. And it''s going to stay that way if I have a say in it. You withdraw your hand and scan the shelf again. Idly, you walk down towards one end where the warmer colors are stacked. There amongst the colors of spring and summer, you spot it. The light green of a new leaf, with a generous enough hood to conceal a set of pointed ears and enough length to stop just above Talae''s boots. This will do much better. You pick it up and carry it back to the shoe display, only to spot Talae two rows over picking through loose shirts and pants. You go to join her, handing over the cloak you picked out. "This one looks about right, but what do you think?"


    Talae considers the cloak, holding it up and letting it unfold to its full extent. "I do like it! I''ll have to coordinate the color with the shirt and pants, but this is quite wonderful." She turns back to the display she was pursuing a few moments before and quickly makes a few selections. "Now for the ''court'' outfit." She makes a face of mild irritation. "Never liked formal occasions at home, but if we did just save three princesses, so I''d better pick something for the inevitable Appearance Before the Throne."


    You stack Talae''s selections on top of her re-folded cloak before adding them to your choices. "What would you wear back home?"


    "Piwafwi, dress if noble, robes if a priestess, slippers, weapons."


    "Piw-a-fwi?" You say, sampling the unfamiliar word. "What''s that?"


    "Shadow-cloak is the trade-tongue translation. Black for concealment in light, and spelled for heat-vision concealment. Silver thread patterns for House and Rank identification."


    "Oh, I think I saw a mundane one over on the shelf, but I thought you wouldn''t like to wear a reminder of what you left behind."


    Talae frowns, thoughtful, "I''ll take a look at it, but your right, I''m not going back nor bringing it with me. Lead on, please."


    "This way, lady." You comply with the politely worded order, leading her to the shadow cloak you saw earlier.


    Talae looks at it for a long moment before picking it up and considering it. "No temperature difference compared to the other clothes, so probably no spellcraft. Coloration is about right, perhaps a shade too dark. The pattern however..." She goes silent.


    You frown. She is seeing something that I''m not. "What of it? All I can pick out is spiderwebs."


    Talae shakes her head. "It''s a mixture of two or three Houses, plus some bits I don''t recognize. Improvisation, perhaps?" She neatly folds the cloak up again and puts it back, but keeps staring at it. "An imitation, un-spelled, but clearly working from real examples. Or at least true descriptions. Probably intended for a costume."


    You shift the clothes you are carrying to free up one hand, then gently lay it on her shoulder. "Something is bothering you. Need to talk about it?"


    Talae shakes her head. "Not sure I can. Explain it I mean. On one hand, playing to the stereotype would give me a huge edge in formal situations, but..."A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    You squeeze her shoulder gently, "you don''t want to live a lie."


    Talae puts her hand on yours, then gently pries your hand off her shoulder. "Got it in one, Aris."


    "Then don''t. You got away from the Dark, got free of its clutches. Time to decide for yourself how you want to be seen by the high and mighty."


    Talae frowns. "But what are the rules for proper appearance? Protocol?"


    You chuckle. "You do realize you are asking a low-born fisherman how the courts of the Kingdoms work? I''ve no clue, but I would wager they are as varied as the people that comprise them. The surface elves, both High and Wood, will have their own sets. The Dwarves will have a completely different set. And the Human Kingdoms will have some of the most formal... and most varied. What is ''proper'' at one will be wildly inappropriate at another."


    Talae''s jaw is flapping in the breeze. "But... but... how?"


    "Hrngh. How can I explain this better. Were there any dances where you came from?"


    Talae''s brow furrows, clearly not sure where you are going with this. "Yes..."


    "And did they all use the same music?"


    "Yes..."


    "The courts up on the surface have their own sets of music. You can either try to learn the steps to match, or..."


    Talae starts nodding, "stop trying to dance to someone else''s music and make your own."


    That went over my head. "Eh?"


    Talae grins, a playful light coming to her eyes. "A saying I''ve heard on the surface. Snake-head used it when he was plotting. ''If your prey dances to your music, then you know where they will go.'' So don''t conform to their expectations, and in turn make them dance to my music."


    You are fully aware that you have a dopey grin on your face. Ohh, that might work... "Self-confidence and Impudence." To put it politely. "If the high and mighty don''t choke on it."


    Talae flips a hand and stars digging though the cloaks. "They invited us to the dance, not our problem if they don''t like the resulting music." She holds up a golden-yellow cloak, the color striking against her white hair and ebony skin. Grinning, she heads for a display of dresses. What in the world have I just unleashed? You follow along behind, noting that she is looking for something in a matching golden hue. She finds one dress, a full-length alluring affair, and holds it up briefly before coming to claim her earlier selections from you. "I saw some slippers earlier that would go with this. Go find a fitting room to try your set on, I''ll grab Little Bird and do the same."


    "Ok." And where did Aflia get to? You spot her near the front of Elci''s, locked into a conversation with a male half-elf clearly not willing to leave her alone. Uh-oh... You head that way with all speed, hoping to head off the inevitable explosion. You get within ear-shot in time to catch the tail-end of the conversation.


    "...I''m just trying to get a handle on how you and your party got caught up in this mess Lady Cencin."


    Aflia snorts. "Look, I already told you."


    "Pure happenstance? I don''t believe in coincidences."


    You cut in. "Neither do I. Care to explain what''s going on mr...?"


    "Elfyr. Out of Althiem on official business, scouting ahead before the Heavies show up to reclaim the princesses. Imagine my surprise when I show up to find a warehouse burnt to the ground, the one known suspect dead, the princesses rescued, and no answer in sight."


    "You and me both then." You turn to Aflia. "Go on and make your selections, Talae and Little Bird should be by the fitting rooms. I''ll be here."


    Elfyr cocks one elegant eyebrow at this, but switches his gaze to you as Aflia bows out of the conversation. Polite Interrogation more like. "You have any more answers than Lady Cencin?"


    You roll your shoulders. "Perhaps we both have pieces to a bigger puzzle. We hit that warehouse because the Sirens, a local gang of kidnappers, were using it and had tried to make a grab at Aflia the day before."


    Elfyr frowns, "so you had no Idea that the Princesses were there?"


    You shake your head. "None. We did turn up at least one disturbing link though."


    "Oh?"


    "The Ironbark Band got wiped out about a week ago by a bunch of scaled snakey bastards. A snake-headed man was leading the Sirens in the warehouse."


    Elfyr''s jaw hits the floor. "Back up a step or three. Ironbark got wiped out?"


    You nod. "Ambush. Hit from both sides of the roadway while strung out in marching order."


    Elfyr''s face grows pale. "Just like the Princess'' guards. Same MO, same snake-motif."


    "Same cult."


    Elfry''s eyes narrow. "What makes you say that?"


    "The Sirens are mostly humans, led by snakes. Haven''t had a chance to examine the bodies, but Snake-head had a serpent brand or tattoo on his chest in addition to the scales. Add in a tip-off from a higher power that foul things are afoot, and this whole mess stinks of a large and well-organized cult."


    Elfyr looks at you suspiciously. "What higher power would that be?"


    You shrug, seeing the girls emerge from the back of Elci''s with clothing in hand. "Never got a name, only a damn good reason to believe the tip-off is real." You turn to head to the front counter and complete your purchases. Casually, you toss over your shoulder, "I was at the far left of the front rank in that column, and took an arrow to the head. Whoever it was, I''m still here to find out who hit Ironbark to get me."


    You watch as the girls lay out their purchases. Talae has her golden dress, slippers, and robe, plus the sturdy set of boots, socks, dark green trousers, grey shirt, and leaf-green cloak. Little Bird has a lightweight cream silk shirt, already modified for her wings, and a matching set of sturdy pants, cut off at the knee. Aflia has a pair of dresses, one black and one white. There is also a set of three packages, already folded away neatly, apparently paid for. wonder what''s in those? You add your boots, pants, silk tunic, and heavy cloak to the pile, then eye the total Ecli is running up on a piece of paper. Well, it is all of good quality, but youch! The bill comes to one hundred and five gold, which you steadily count out until Elci is satisfied.


    You lead the party back to the guild house in the gathering twilight. It had been a long day, and you know Elfyr is going to be asking more questions. You spotted him heading for the waterfront when you left Elci''s but lost track of him. After a hearty dinner, you head back up to your room and fall into bed. Things are getting a lot more complicated. The Bad Moons are restless and growing more bold, Agents of Athiem are poking about with heavy support incoming, the Sirens are pulling a vanishing act, that shadow cloak appearing out of nowhere, and I haven''t heard from Riben as to how the town guard is taking all of this. You sigh heavily, and fall asleep.


    <hr>


    Status Report:


    Money: 5 Gold coins


    Food and water: 10 days of hardtack rations


    Equipment: in good condition


    The Ring: obsidian band with one carbuncle gem and two empty settings


    Total Deaths: 1

 Chapter 12: Godslayers

    In your dream, you find yourself back at the desk in the place you went to after you died on the road. Same desk, same two chairs. same single candle, same total lack of visible floor. This time however, the black-robed figure is sitting at the desk waiting for you. You walk over and sit down, wishing you had a footstool to kick your feet up on. One promptly appears, so you hook it in and kick your feet up.


    The figure shakes its head at you. "Aris Aris Aris." It lets out a long exhalation. "This is why you humans terrify the Gods."


    "Eh?"


    The figure flips its hands up in a ''why me'' gesture. "Your ability to do the most damaging thing possible at the most crucial of junctures just because something pissed you off. Good grief human, you had one Siren following you around because you were a new and possibly dangerous person in town, so you shook him off. Then you started asking questions. So far, nothing too unusual. Then you decide to smash their operations just because they are slavers. Again, not terribly unusual, most sentients don''t like slavers."


    The figure shakes its head. "But you didn''t call for backup and kick down the door right then and there. You waited for some insane hour of the morning before you moved, like you were smashing a military outpost. And in doing so, you give the Sirens time to collect all of their ''product'' in one place because your evasion spooked them. So when you did come crashing in, you not only squashed the Sirens, you also killed the cultist, freed two other pawns in the Game, and saved three future Queens from death or corruption."


    The figure flicks a finger at the ring you wear. "The Meddler had not one but four plans unmade in one night by one angry human. A fifth plan is well on its way to the same fate, with several more now shriveling under the light of scrutiny."


    You lean back and put your hands behind your head. "So? I was one man in the right place at the right time."Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    The figure freezes in place before slowly folding its hands in its lap and leaning back. "By the gods, you really are blind. Alright, God-Sentient Relations 101. Sentients worship a divine being, which give it powers and constrains what it can and can''t do. Most races stick to one or two gods, which is how you end up with so-and-so, God of the whosits. Humans are the exception. Humans tend to worship more than one God, but which gods vary wildly on an individual level. This can also include not worshiping any gods. This leaves Humans as ''balance-tippers'', whose strength can be lent to any cause or belief. This means the Gods both love and fear Humans. The love you because they will always find one or two to lend that extra edge to their cause. They fear Humans because should you unite, your collective rage and varied beliefs would be enough to unmake a God. Add in the Human habit of jumping in with both feet wherever they think they are needed..."


    You nod, "Team Hold my Ale, but we have way more power or leverage than we suspect."


    The figure nods in return. "Which is why you never see more than a handful of humans in any one Game. We just can''t stop you from getting involved. But actively recruiting humans to a conflict has never been done before because it''s actively courting the unmaking of one or more Gods involved. Until the Meddler started doing it, that was the line no God would cross. For all of their fights and rivalries, none of them was willing to risk their own destruction."


    You finger the ring. "So the Meddler has crossed a line of no return, forcing you to do the same. Which means that this affair is probably going to end up with a dead God."


    The figure nods slowly.


    You grin, "well, shit. Never thought I''d get to kill a God."


    <hr>


    Status Report:


    Money: 5 Gold coins


    Food and water: 10 days of hardtack rations


    Equipment: in good condition


    The Ring: obsidian band with one carbuncle gem and two empty settings


    Total Deaths: 1

 Chapter 13: Pre-Breakfast Meeting

    You wake up to the sounds of heated argument coming from a floor or two below. You stretch the crick out of your neck, gather your clothes, and head for the showers. Whatever the argument is about, you don''t hear any battle-cries, explosions, or you name being shouted, so it can wait until you have gotten clean, dressed, and fed. You head for the showers. Twenty minutes later, with the biggest bowl of cherrybean tea you can find in hand, you contemplate the various breakfast foods available. Well, I hope they don''t mind me using a soup bowl instead of a mug... You reach for a muffin with some sort of berry in it when¡­


    "Aris! You mind stepping in here a moment?"


    "On my way boss." You holler. Well, this should be interesting. You enter Riben''s office to find Mr. Hobson still red in the face from yelling at Riben. Riben for his part looks slightly exasperated, with a hint of frustration at just how idiotic some people can be.


    Riben gestures at Hobson, "care to run over what you did at the Brewery for me again? Hobson here is making all sorts of claims."


    You take a big gulp of tea and eye Hobson. Here comes the excuses and the attempt to squirm out of paying. "Well, I''m no brewmaster, so I''ll keep it simple. Aflia and I took the contract to clean out a nest of big rats. Same day, we had on over to Old Man Berkin''s Brewery. Dodged a kidnapping attempt by the Sirens on the way." You shrug, like avoiding a nasty street gang is just another part of your day.


    "Walked in the door, met a Mr. Binu who called you down, and you lead us to the basement entrance. Gave me the key and retreated up the stairs out of the way. Oh, that reminds me," You pull the key out of your pocket and toss it to Hobson. it lands in his lap when he fails to catch it, "there you go. Key returned. Basement had one big rat in it, which Aflia killed with a firebolt. I disarmed the bear traps with a handy stave, Aflia gathered up the ''poison'' you had bought for the nest, and we headed into the tunnel. Three big rats later, we dumped the ''poison'' all over the nest and headed out the other side. We turned down the offer of ale and left."You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    Hobson goes slightly pale as you toss of what happened like it was nothing special. Riben on the other hand has a small smile dancing in his eyes. "So you did ''poison'' the nest then?"


    You take another gulp and shrug. "About a pound and a half of common rat poison. Wouldn''t do shit to big rats though, they''re just too big."


    Hobson is still slightly pale but starts to bluster a bit. "But there are still big rats...."


    Riben cuts him off. "Which is why I''m willing to give you a ten percent discount on a repeat visit as soon as I have the personnel available."


    Hobson puffs back up a little bit. "Well, it looks like Guildsman Cretu here is available..."


    You grin at the helpless Hobson. "With respect Hobson, there are at least two larger problems and a major State Visitor about to pile right into the middle. The Bad Moons still need dealing with, the Sirens aren''t quite dead yet, and a heavy delegation from Altheim is on its way. The leading edge of the security detail is already poking around."


    Hobson goes milk-white. Riben flicks a hand for you to continue.


    You gulp tea and shrug. "A half-elf going by the name of Elfyr contacted me yesterday on that matter. Turns out the Elf kids we pulled out of the warehouse are Princesses of Altheim, and their parents have already sent people to get them back."


    Hobson slumps down in his chair, fainted. Riben just shakes his head. You raise an eyebrow and your bowl. Riben gestures for you to return to breakfast. You leave the office to go munch on a muffin and await whatever is incoming for the day.


    <hr>


    Status Report:


    Money: 5 Gold coins


    Food and water: 10 days of hardtack rations


    Equipment: in good condition


    The Ring: obsidian band with one carbuncle gem and two empty settings


    Total Deaths: 1

 Chapter 14: Babysitting

    You re-enter the dining hall and are greeted by a torrent of incomprehensible Elvish. The source quickly becomes evident when you see the three princesses chasing each other round the room with Talae trying to get them to settle down and eat with no success. You finish your bowl of tea and head for the cherrybean carafe, hoping that there is some left.


    Elfyr meets you there, a bemused look on his face. "Good grief, how does she keep up with them?"


    You refill your bowl before answering, idly watching Elfyr''s eyes go big at the size of your ''mug''. "I haven''t the faintest idea, but it looks like she''s buying time, waiting for them to wear themselves out. What brings you here?"


    Elfyr fills his mug. "Babysitting. I''d call it bodyguarding, but I don''t think that will be needed. Not here. Not in the middle of Guild HQ, with four hardened combat veterans, Riben, the housekeeping staff, and the Chedal town guard in the way."


    You shrug and snag several berry filled muffins off of the half-empty tray. "And how secure were they when the got grabbed?"


    Elfyr frowns, then nods. "Point to you Aris."


    You shrug and swallow a bite of delicious berry enriched goodness. "Mmm. Summerberry. How long until that heavy detachment gets here?"


    Elfyr sips and watches Talae leap over an empty table to get ahead of the princesses. "Two days, three at most. Depends how much fight the Bad Moons put up."


    You finis one muffin and consider the second. "Two days then. Riben has a ranger named Verra playing hunt-the-warchief. Any luck chasing down the Sirens?"


    Elfyr grins over his mug at you. "My compliments on your raid. It broke their back utterly. Seven or eight survivors got torn apart by angry citizens claiming vengeance for past wrongs. Two, perhaps three more have turned up in unidentifiable bits. Four more turned themselves in. Mork has been... gentle with them. Surprisingly so. The Altheim guard would have simply ripped the secrets from their heads over this matter."


    You shrug and sip cherrybean. "They have nowhere to go and they know it. Mork''s playing along like he''s their friend and getting them talking, telling more than they realize. I''m more worried about the Princesses."Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    Elfyr watches as Little Bird takes over the herding duties so Talae can get some food and rest. "Why? they look healthy enough for thirty year olds."


    You finish your bowl and look Elfyr in the eye. "Talae called the Sirens child-breakers. She also deliberately crushed the man-bits of snake-head in combat."


    Elfyr goes pale and looks down at his mug. "Coming from a Drow... that''s scary."


    Talae joins you and Elfyr by the carafe. "Considering their energy levels, and the noise, I think they''ll be ok. Physically, they are healthy younglings, with all of the noise that entails. There are going to be scars, mental ones, that only centuries of time have the hope of healing."


    Elfyr looks at his mug, eyes seeing nothing. "There goes the kingdom then."


    You raise one eyebrow. "Oh?"


    Elfyr shrugs. "The king isn''t long for this plane, and the queen is his sixth wife. She''s young, perhaps too young. Quiet, but she doesn''t miss a thing."


    You and Talae both look at him. Talae shrugs "that kind of attention to details will do her in good stead then, if she has the metal in her spine to not be bullied about."


    You start your second summerberry muffin. "Where did she come from? Noble house?"


    Elfyr shakes his head. "No, and that''s what worries me. Merchant family. She was a placeholder, ¡®till the plague wiped out the sons and daughters of the queens before her. Now her three children are all that is left standing between Altheim and a hydra-headed succession war."


    You grin. "New arena, same game. She''ll do fine."


    Elfyr looks at you in disbelief. "What makes you say that?"


    "Two things my Sergeant said, over and over again. ''Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned'' and ''beware the quiet one.'' Loud guy you hear coming, full of bluster and blather. The quiet one... well, it''s not bluffing if you can do it."


    Elfyr considers that. "With the right allies in the right places... yeah, she just might do it. But what about you Aris? Settle down, find a wife, have kids?"


    You consider your empty bowl. "Snake-cult is still in the game, so I''m still in the game."


    Talae nods. "Me too, and Little Bird and Aflia as well."


    Elfyr sets down his mug. "So young, all of you. Four against a cult and its minions."


    You set down you bowl. "Five. But we''re going to need some training and support."


    Elfyr looks at you for a moment, then gives a lopsided grin. "Five."


    <hr>


    Status Report:


    Money: 5 Gold coins


    Food and water: 10 days of hardtack rations


    Equipment: in good condition


    The Ring: obsidian band with one carbuncle gem and two empty settings


    Total Deaths: 1

 Chapter 15: On the Road Again

    Elfyr shrugs. "So the next step would be to smuggle the princesses out, join up with the Heavies, and head on back to Altheim. I''d like to wait a day or two before moving, let everything die down a bit."


    You refill you bowl and Elfyr''s mug with more cherrybean tea. "How important is keeping this whole affair quiet? because the story is going to leak. The warehouse fire was quite noticeable. At least three or four guildsmen, plus Mork, already know, so the rumor mill is probably already working overtime."


    Elfyr takes his mug and scrunches up his face. "Not important enough to wipe out Chedal over. The diplomatic fallout..."


    Talae fills a mug of her own. "So let''s add our own music to the dance. Start rumors of our own and lace them with bits of the truth..."


    Elfyr sips, grimaces, and reaches for the honey, "already on it. Open visit from the Heavies to reclaim the princesses, and we slip out while all others are looking the other way. Go back to Altheim, bed you all down with whatever training you need, and arrange the Appearance Before the Throne to occur later, once you can openly arrive."


    Talae frowns, then shrugs. "Heavies walk, we get to teleport?"


    Elfyr nods. "Agents of the Throne never travel openly when a covert route is available. Plus that''ll give you all four months or so to train and become ''known faces'' before the Heavies return."


    You sip at your bowl. "And give the princesses four months to heal out of the public eye."


    All three of you contemplate this for a moment. Finally, Elfyr speaks up. "Let''s talk training arrangements and covers."


    Talae winces. You frown. "I don''t think any of us can maintain any sort of covert cover. We''d be kind of hard to hide..."


    Elfyr grins. "Exactly. So we''ll use a ''peacock'' approach. All four of you will be very ostentatiously placed in plain sight as exactly what you already are as reward for meritorious service to the crown. It''s only a ''cover'' in that it hides your true strength and what you did to receive such a reward. Everyone in the know will peg you as Agents or Guildsmen on hire anyway, but that''s a game for Lord Wavethunder anyway."


    You shrug. "Or we just play it openly from the start, and look smarter and more capable than we are. Teleport in, have an Appearance, get awarded our positions as the Agents and Guildsmen who pulled off the rescue. The positions will be seen as rewards for our service, and no one will place us as anything besides Agents who have become too well-known for field work."The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Talae looks more relieved at your proposed plan. Elfyr ponders it over then shrugs. "I''ll get a message to Lord Wavethunder, give him a heads up as to the storm headed his way. All four of you will probably end up attached to his department anyway. As for positions..." Elfyr sighs. "You four caught me out, something no agent likes to admit. What can you do, and what training do you think you will need?"


    You ponder this for a moment. "I don''t think I can speak for the others. I was only an ur-hander, so..."


    Elfyr nods. "Officer School it is then. Polish up on sword skills, learn a few more, and clean up your social skills for elven courts."


    Talae ponders for a moment, sipping at her tea. "On the combat side of things, I''ll probably need to talk to whomever knows the land up here in the Light best. For etiquette, I''d better stick with Little Bird. And she needs formal Cleric training."


    Elfyr cocks an eyebrow. "For the first half, the Altheim druids should be able to help. For the second, which god and why?"


    Talae shrugs. "Kuko. I was an acolyte, down in the Dark, and she only got the direct-from-on-high tutorial, so..."


    Elfyr winces, "I can see the need for the formal version. And Lady Cencin?"


    You shrug, "let''s ask her. And why do you keep calling her that?"


    Elfyr nods to Talae, and the two of you drift over to the table where Aflia is sitting. "Its her title. Well, it will be unless her parents produce another heir to inherit their title. And after they produced her, They haven''t even tried."


    Aflia almost snorts her water. "Talking about my folks? I went and did some research, and the jokes going to be on them. The family trees are sufficiently mangled the further back one goes to the point where it could be either of them with a demon in their heritage. Probably both, given some of the gaps I''ve found. So any child they produce is probably going to be a tiefling. Whoops, no more ''pure-blooded Dragonbloods'' holding that title. As for training, a stint at your equivalent of Camp Kaboom with an instructor."


    You take a seat and grin at the schadenfreude of nobles being caught in their own obsession of bloodlines.


    Elfyr also sits down but plays with his mug. "Camp Kaboom?"


    Aflia grins, "well, they couldn''t teach aspiring sorcerers and wizards fire magic in the middle of a city. So we went out onto an abandoned set of hilltops where we could turn rock into char without burning anything else down. The instructors had a fancy name for the place, but there were lots of ka-booms, so we all just called it Camp Kaboom until the name stuck."


    Elfyr finished his mug and nods. "I think I have a feel of what all needs written out for Lord Wavethunder. I''ll get that sent out. We should be ready to move out in three days, once the Heavies get here. Until then, good fortune."


    <hr>


    Status Report:


    Money: 5 Gold coins


    Food and water: 10 days of hardtack rations


    Equipment: in good condition


    The Ring: obsidian band with one carbuncle gem and two empty settings


    Total Deaths: 1

 Chapter 16: Appearance Before the Throne

    Three days pass by without further incident, aside from the arrival of the Heavy detachment that Elfyr had mentioned. You and your party make the requisite public appearances and meetings. Elfyr and Riben arrange for everyone to be ready to leave that night.


    So, with sleepy princesses in tow, your party makes your way to the encampment just outside Chedal''s walls. Elfyr leads the way past the guards to the logistical area of the encampment. An old hunchbacked wizard has a Teleportation circle prepared. A few minutes of wizard mumbo-jumbo later, and the circle energizes around your party and the princesses. White rings form and ascend faster and faster. Everything turns blinding white and fades away.


    Rings of sight form below your feet and arch over your head. The whiteness fades and color bleeds back in. Talae chokes off an undercommon curse as her eyes struggle to cope with the light. At least no one here can understand that language. Hopefully.


    "Such unbecoming language young lady. We understand of course, and at least you didn''t puke on Our shoes."This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    The cultured tone and royal We jerk your head around. Half a dozen guards stand about the circular room, illuminated by the fading runes and low-glowing gems set into the walls. Three elves stand near the doorway. A male in a dark blue cloak leans against the doorframe, hooded eyes sweeping the room. A Lady with a silver crown stands behind a wheeled chair, in which the King of Altheim sits, his throat ringed by an emerald-set chain.


    Before anyone can say anything else, the three princesses swarm forward, accompanied by a wave of excited elvish. A happy reunion. The Lady abandons decorum and drops to her knees to embrace her children. The King grins up at you, relief and delight writ large in his eyes. "We, no, I thank you. Lord Wavethunder, could you make the needed arrangements?"


    Lord Wavethunder beckons your party forward. "I will your highness."


    You leave the royal couple to reunite with their children and follow Lord Wavethunder to your assigned rooms.


    <hr>


    Status Report:


    Money: 5 Gold coins


    Food and water: 10 days of hardtack rations


    Equipment: in good condition


    The Ring: obsidian band with one carbuncle gem and two empty settings


    Total Deaths: 1

 Chapter 17: Interviews

    Over the next ten days, Lord Wavethunder does his meticulous best to slot you and your party into his department. He is more than just the Master of the Royal Guard, despite all appearances. He is also the Head of Althiem''s intelligence and counterintelligence agencies, collectively known as the Department. This becomes clear to you over those same ten days as He seeks to learn all he elvishly can about you and your party. There are multiple interviews that you know about, and more than a few times you feel something brush against your mind during them. Aflia, Talae, and Little Bird all go through the same process. And despite all pretenses of being honored guests, you know the guards outside your quarters are there to keep an eye on you. I can''t bring myself to blame Lord Wavethunder for his decisions. This snake-cult did just snatch his Princesses at least. So he does have to make sure that none of us are part of that same cult on a mission of our own. The by-now familiar knock on your door drags your attention back to the present. You get up and follow the guard down the stairs and across the courtyard to Lord Wavethunder''s office. The Lord himself is present, of course, but also present is a young spellcaster in grey robes with a ebony-grey gem about their neck.


    After you take your seat and the guard vanishes out the door, Lord Wavethunder get right to the point. "Alright, everything I''ve been able to verify about you has come up perfectly clean. Same goes for every member of your party. Before you ask ''what''s the problem?'', I''ll answer that question for you. It''s too clean, too good to be true. I work Intelligence. That means spy stuff, and spy stuff is never this clean. It''s sloppy, it''s messy, it''s gut instincts and half-glimpsed truths. Unless someone makes an effort to make it this clean."


    "You think we''re working for someone else then?"


    Lord Wavethunder nods,"either that or you are that clean. Your friends are indeed that clean, but every time we tried to verify what happened before you arrived in Chedal via mind-spell, we hit a black wall. Specifically, five days before you got to Chedal."If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    You blink slowly. "Would my death and resurrection about that time mess up your spells?"


    Lord Wavethunder purses his lips, then looks to the mage. The mage grasps his gem, thinking it over. "Yes, it would. A technical issue, actually. The mind-probe can only inspect ''events from the subject''s current life.'' As most beings tend to stay dead, this isn''t usually a problem."


    Lord Wavethunder frowns, "Is there any way around this limitation?"


    The mage shrugs. "You know as well as I do Lord. Mind-Rip and Mind-Merge can do what you ask, but the first is... destructive, and the second requires consent."


    You raise an eyebrow. "I''m guessing Mind-Rip would tear information right out, leaving tatters behind, while I would have to let you in for Mind-Merge to work?"


    The mage cocks an eyebrow. "You speak Primordial?"


    You shrug, "In Sapphire we called it Oldtongue, or The Language of Witch. I know some, from fishing for and with Lady SiDabolo. Stuck with me, for some reason."


    Lord Wavethunders eyes go wide. "Lady SiDabolo? She still lives?"


    "Same old tower atop the white cliffs that''s been there as long as any human can remember. Lonely out there, but I''d work her fishing-crew and listen to her sing. Not many would, there was something about her. Got becalmed one day and asked her to teach me some of her songs to pass the time. She did one better, I guess.


    Lord Wavethunder looks a tad perturbed. "That will be all for today Aris. I''ll talk to you again tomorrow."


    "As you say Lord." Wonder what''s got his hair in a twist?


    <hr>


    Status Report:


    Money: 5 Gold coins


    Food and water: 10 days of hardtack rations


    Equipment: in good condition


    The Ring: obsidian band with one carbuncle gem and two empty settings


    Total Deaths: 1

 Chapter 18: Mind-Merge

    The next day dawns in the usual heat and glory of a tropical autumn day. The morning passes slowly by as you wait for Lord Wavethunder to summon you. Whatever this Mind-Merge is, it must be a serious affair. And what''s up with Lady SiDabolo? Sure, she was odd for an elf, but she did live alone in that tower for longer than anyone I know can remember. But I guess Lord Wavethunder knew her or her family of old. Probably some history there¡­ Finally, the expected summons comes. You follow the guard as usual, but the path isn''t the one you have followed to Lord Wavethunder''s office so many times before. "Where are we headed today?"


    The guard shrugs. "I was ordered to escort you to the ritual magic chambers."


    "Ahh. Lead on then." Lord Wavethunder is taking this seriously then.


    You follow the guard to a room similar to the one you teleported into upon arrival in Altheim. Unlike the teleportation room however, this one is... grimmer. Something in the air you just can''t pin down. Probably more than a few minds pried open and torn apart in this room. Hope I don''t need to expend the carbuncle so quickly. You find the mage from the day before sitting quietly in one of three circles in the center of a sprawling magical rune. Glancing about, you note that the runes aren''t simply drawn on the floor, but are instead made of inlaid electrum. Lord Wavethunder is leaning against the far wall. He nods in greeting.


    Time to find out... "Rip or Meld?"


    Lord Wavethunder snorts. "Meld. I''d not want to piss of Lady SiDabolo, much less my King, by even attempting to break your mind."


    That''s no small relief. You nod your thanks. "So how does this work?"


    Lord Wavethunder gestures you to join him and sits in one of the two empty circles. "Sit in the open circle, relax, and the mage will forge a mental connection. I''ve done this before, so I''ll ''visit'' your mind. You''ll have to let me in so we can talk, and what is said in a connection like this one cannot be an untruth. You can try, but it''s blatantly obvious when you do."


    My mind, so if anything goes wrong it will be my head that will suffer a mischief. A clever ploy, and for all of the right reasons. Jokes on you though Lord, this isn''t the first time I''ve had this kind of chat. "No reason to delay further than needed. Let''s get this over with."


    You sit in the last empty circle, close your eyes, and let the mage''s chant sweep you up in its rhythm.


    Light and smell fade, until all you perceive is the echoing drumbeat of the chant. You close your eyes, and then open them again inside your own mind.


    You stand atop the familiar invisible floor, but there are more features to the room this time. There are four walls, though no floor or ceiling. There is the expected desk and chairs, the candles shedding soft shadows over strewn papers. Two doors fit into opposite walls. You walk over to one, your footsteps whispering in the silence, and place your hand against it. There is no doorknob, only black iron bound oak, but you get the sense of what is beyond that door: a library full of neatly bound tomes on endless shelves. Each tome a memory from your lives, each shelf a chapter in your saga. You know that you can open this door with a small effort of will, or call any given tome to your hand.


    You lower your hand and step back. You are expecting a guest, after all, and it wouldn''t do to leave everything messy for Lord Wavethunder''s arrival. You stride to the desk, and sort the documents into neat piles. When everything is in place, you look at the other door, the one that leads to places outside your mind. You take a seat facing it.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    The expected knock comes, although it is distant and tentative, attenuated by the door and you desire for privacy. "Enter Lord Wavethunder."


    "I will, If you can open the door. It is your mind, after all, And I''d rather not pry."


    "Ah!" You extend your will and the outside door opens. "Come into my ''office'' then."


    Lord Wavethunder enters and takes a chair opposite you at the desk. "More than one room? Not many manage that feat."


    "You may find me more complex than most."


    Lord Wavethunder nods. "Indeed. Where to begin?"


    You call one tome to your hand. "Perhaps when lady SiDabolo taught me to sing?" Setting it down, you call another tome, "or when I joined Ironbark?" A third tome, "or perhaps The roadside ambush where Ironbark died, and I was reborn?" A fourth tome, "Or the break-in where we rescued the princesses?"


    Lord Wavethunder''s eyes go wider and wider with each tome. He picks his jaw up off the desk and reaches for the tomes, hesitating. "Can... can you make a copy of these, that I may review them later? I would not seek to take memories from you, nor do I wish to live them as you."


    You look at the tomes for a moment. "What form would suit you best?"


    "Crystals for a music-player?" Lord Wavethunder gives you an image of small crystal spheres, to be set on top of a brass contraption.


    "I can do that, if you can tell me one other thing. Why do you fear Lady SiDabolo so?" You flick a hand at the pile of tomes and start to make shadow copies of them, shaping their contents into delicate crystalline spheres.


    Lord Wavethunder strokes his chin. "It''s not the lady we fear, it''s her father. Aemon SiDabolo, called the Sadist, the Priest of the Hourglass, the High Lord of Shadows. Probably the single most powerful mortal spellcaster ever. Nobody wants to piss him off."


    You place the first of four spheres before Lord Wavethunder. "And the fastest way to piss off a father is to go for his daughter. So why would he leave her living alone in that tower for so long? I know of no story that ever tells of her having company or visitors."


    "Perhaps it is her retreat, a place where she can be on her own? I''ll have to have someone look into that, my attention has been firmly focused at home of late."


    You place the second sphere next to the first. "Trying to clean house?"


    Lord Wavethunder nods, "exactly. I think I''ve got all of the cultists either identified or dead, but..."


    You finish the third sphere. "It''s the ones operating alone that you worry about. The ones none of their fellows know about, and so can''t tell you about. But you have a bigger problem looming on the horizon."


    Lord Wavethunder laughs. "What bigger problem could there be than the health and safety of the King?"


    You set the fourth and final sphere down with the other three. "The succession."


    Lord Wavethunder''s face goes pale. "Elfyr told you about that?"


    You nod. "We discussed it some. Your Queen may be stronger than you think, but she cannot stand alone. No one can. She will need someone to be the shield at her back against the knives of Lords. She will need people she can trust without reserve to take up command of the Army and Navy. And she will need the shoulder of friends to cry on when she must."


    Lord Wavethunder collects the spheres. "And you think you can fill any of those roles?"


    You shake your head. "I''m but a human fighter, running up on his nineteenth birthday. I''ll only live to be eighty or so, perhaps ninety, if nothing kills me first. You on the other hand Lord, well, you know the difference between reigning and ruling. Guard her back well."


    Lord Wavethunder rises and collects the crystal spheres. "If everything comes back as clean as I expect it to, then you''ll start Officer''s School in a week or so. I''ll include a note in your file for classes in Elvish and ritual magic. Wouldn''t do for your potential to go to waste. Close the door behind me, and guard it well."


    "I will."


    Lord Wavethunder leaves, and you seal the door. You glance about the familiar office one more time, then close your eyes to let reality re-establish itself.


    <hr>


    Status Report:


    Money: 5 Gold coins


    Food and water: 10 days of hardtack rations


    Equipment: in good condition


    The Ring: obsidian band with one carbuncle gem and two empty settings


    Total Deaths: 1

 Chapter 19: Schools

    Aflia Cencin walked down the long drive to her family''s estate. This was a meeting long overdue, and full of crossing intentions and emotions. On one hand, she had been all but banished from here fourteen years ago, though never formally disowned or disinherited. It left her at an odd place, an outsider in a house that was once her home.


    But she wasn''t moving back in. The Cencin estate was also home to Hokfiin Faalyol, ''Home of The Fire'', Althiem''s firing range and testing ground for all things magical and mundane with a tendency to burn and/or explode. Accordingly, it also served as the home-away-from-home for Althiem''s wizards and Sorcerers in training. Aflia''s father, the venerable Yorziros Elmid, Lord of Cencin, oversaw both the estate and the training grounds. It would be an interesting introduction.


    The main door of the hall opened at Aflia''s approach, and a tall red-scaled figure stood in the entryway. Grey smoke trailed from one flared nostril as inscrutable eyes regarded her. Aflia gave a half bow of respect, her horns and tail in full view.


    "So you return. Why?" Yorziros'' voice was flat, but not hard.


    Aflia straightened and allowed the dawn''s light to reflect from the scales at her throat. "Do you ask as my father? Or as my instructor?"


    Yorziros blinked, long and slow, before answering. "Both."


    "As a daughter, bearing news that you will wish Lady Cencin to look into, to confirm my own research. As a student, to complete the practical portion of my education as a Sorceress of The Dragon''s Blood."


    Yorziros stepped back from the doorway and swept an arm wide. "Then enter, Lady Aflia."


    As soon as the door closed behind Aflia, her father swept her into a crushing embrace. "I have missed you so."


    Aflia returned the hug, "easy now, my bones aren''t as hard as yours father. But where is mother?"


    She felt the tears fall upon her back and knew no answer would be forthcoming for some time.


    <hr>


    Talae Telenna studied the forest trail leading up into the mountains outside of Padan, the Capital city of Althiem and the principal port of the island nation. She liked the woods, the wilds. Towns were acceptable, but cities were too big. Too full of people, which in her mind meant full of plots. Talae had had enough of plots and daggers looking for unguarded backs.


    So the trail up the mountains was a trail to a haven. A dangerous one, to be sure, as was any home amid the untamed wilds. But a haven that was home to druids, a place where she could learn of this Sunlit Land, and perhaps more about herself.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    About the wanderlust pulsing in her blood, the Rage lurking in the depths of her heart, the drumbeat in her soul.


    Talae shouldered her pack and started up the trail.


    When she reached to foothills, the trail degraded from beaten dirt to game trails. Here was where civilization ended and the Wilds began. There was no clear mark down in the Dark, only dust atop stone, passages untraveled in living memory. Talae pressed on.


    As dusk fell, she could see the faint glow of a fire in a cave. Talae heard the drums echoing on the wind, and for the first time in her life, heard a beat she wanted to dance to.


    <hr>


    Aris Cretu spat out the dirt of the sparring circle. The blademaster wanted to ''get a sample of his skills'', but was clearly not holding anything back. Alright, time to stop holding back himself then. Aris grabbed a handful of earth and threw it as he came to his feet.


    The blademaster cursed and spat, rubbing at his eyes.


    Aris closed the distance, grabbed his greatsword by the blade, and used the cross guard to hook the blademaster''s knees and pull.


    The blademaster went airborne and landed heavily on his back. Rolling sideways, the blademaster went to regain his feet, but fond he had rolled his throat against the flat of Aris'' greatsword. He froze, then rolled back the other way and came to his feet. "Point to you cadet. Where''d you learn that trick?"


    Aris recovered his blade and fell set again. "Westmarch, when the Orcs came."


    The blademaster falls to a rest position. "First time in a dueling circle then?"


    Airs nods but never lets his eyes shift away from the blademaster. "What I have learned, I learned in the fighting at the front of the block, in the press of pikes."


    The blademaster cleans and sheaths his blade. "Stand easy then. I''ve read the official reports, but to hear for a veteran of that campaign... Ale tonight at the Marksman? You bring your stories, I''ll bring mine."


    Aris sheathes his greatsword. "Aye sir." Things were looking up, and a night at a tavern would help his elvish studies, as well as cement the friendship of a man worth knowing.


    <hr>


    Khuk brushed at the feathers along the edges of her wings. They itched form not flying, but with her pinions clipped, that wasn''t an option. She sighed and looked out the balcony window at the waterfront and wished she could ride the thermals out in that harbor. Khuk could smell them from here...


    "Little Bird? You''re not brushing your wings again are you?"


    Khuk sighed, "yes I am Sister Valfina. I''ll be molting soon, and I can''t bathe the way the rest of you can. Once that is done, I''ll be able to fly again."


    Valfina leaned against the doorframe in her lightweight robes. "I just can''t wrap my head around this obsession of yours. Why do you want to fly so badly?"


    Khuck bobbed her head. "I''ve spent two-thirds of my life aloft on the winds. Could you go as long without the touch of our Goddess?"


    Valfina shudders, not at all feigned, "that good?"


    Khuk cracked her beak, the closest she could come to smiling, "better."


    Valfina''s eyes glimmer. "when you finish molting, I''ll take you up on that then. But for now, we have some studying to do."


    Khuk laughed, flexed her wings, and set aside her brush. "Here or down stairs?"

 Chapter 20: Educations

    Aris Cretu pours over one of the books of ritual spells his instructor has given him. Most of the text is in Elvish, with scattered bits of transcribed Primordial in the actual spells themselves. It is not the Elvish that is irritating him at the moment, but the Primordial.


    <Instructor Ultian, can you help me with something here?>


    <More problems with Elvish Airs?>


    <No, with this particular incantation. If this primordial was copied down how it is meant to be spoken, then this copy has an error.>


    <Transcribed. Let me look at that...> Ultian studies the page, comparing it it his personal spell book. <No, it looks right. Why do you ask?>


    <As writ, it reads as Call Friend, but the Elvish section lists it as Summon Familiar.> Aris pulls out a scrap paper and quill, marking down two runes. <The top one is Call, and while I guess it works, adding this stroke here changes it to a formal form, Summon. This in turn would require a different rune to follow it altogether, probably Clan-member. Friend is functional, but since when does one issue a formal summons to a friend?>


    Ultian studies the scrap of paper intently. <The formal form does make practical sense, given that Summon Familiar creates a binding magical contract. But why Clan-member?>


    Aris shrugs. <It''s a more correct translation, but misses part of what the rune itself include.>


    <Includes.>


    <Includes, thank you. What''s left out is a sense of bonding, of like-to-like. A person you may snap-snarl at and with but who will stand with you anyway. Family, but closer. The runes for brother, father, sister, mother, and child are all close but informal variants.>


    <Alright. New lesson plan. Finish up you notes on Summon Familiar, then I''ll trade you the Comprehend Languages ritual for material to practice it on.>


    <Got it in one Aris. I have a copy of a Primordial primer penned originally by Lord SiDabolo himself, but your knowledge...>


    Aris nods. <I leaned Primordial from Lady SiDabolo. She mentioned once that her father speaks it, but she sings in it.>


    <hr>


    Talae Telenna froze on the game trail, eyes and nose drinking in the surrounding forest. Something was there, stalking the same game trail, but not hunting the same prey.


    The wind shifted ever to slightly.


    There was a roar and a crash. A thunderous sound of a large animal smashing through trees in its rising fury.


    Talae felt the rage rising in her blood, fury thundering in her veins. She gripped her maul tight and spun to face the sound.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    An avalanche of sun-kissed fur and hate burst through the undergrowth directly in front of Talae. The bear roared as it charged, spittle flying.


    Talae roared in answer, the Rage adding volume to her voice. She brought her maul crashing down in an over head swing as the bear closed the distance.


    The blows connected. Talae felt the crunch reverberate up her arms as the bear''s skull shattered. She felt her legs and ribs give way as its immense lifeless bulk crashed into her.


    The whoop and holler of alarmed and alerted Druids was distant in her ears as the Rage faded and pain claimed Talae''s consciousness. She would eat well while she recovered.


    <hr>


    Khuk paused in her brushing to sweep up yet another basket full of molted feathers.


    "Ugh. How long does this go on Little Bird?" Sister Valfina picked up a stray feather and tossed it into the basket. "And how many time of year does it happen?"


    Khuk paused to pluck out one suborn feather. "Only once a year, taking about six weeks, so another four weeks or so."


    Valfina fingered one of the clipped pinion feathers. "They are so soft and fluffy, they''d make wonderful bedding."


    Khuk picked up her brush then sighed. "They would, if they weren''t quite so large. Here, can you get my back, right between my wings?"


    Valfina took the brush and went around behind Khuk to help her. "Quills then?"


    Khuk sighed in pleasure. "Yes, if you want them. Have you figured out how to reduce your weight so we can go flying together?"


    "Uhm, not yet."


    "Having second thoughts Sister?"


    "Well, storm season starts in another three weeks or so..."


    "Ah, yeah, that is no time for first-time flyers. If we get a break in the weather, and enough time off, we could head up into the mountains, find a cave to snuggle down in."


    "Oh? You wouldn''t prefer the comforts of Padan?"


    Khuk bobs her head. "I grew up in the wilds, learned to fly and live there. A cave may not be all that welcoming for a city-dweller, but if I can get a weekend or two to prepare in advance, I can make up a nice nest..."


    "Mmm, that sounds nice. Lean forward so I can work on your tail?"


    Khuk did so, letting the sun warm her feathers. Soon she would be back in the air where she belonged.


    <hr>


    Aflia Cencin eyed the target set before the scorched berm. "Nothing I have can reach that far."


    Yarizos snorted, smoke pouring out of his nostrils. "Precisely. No spell, cast by the book, can reach that far. You already are practicing your metamagic disciplines, so you know that as a sorceress, you can twist a spell to suit your needs on the fly. Try twisting the strands of a bolt spell back on themselves, tightening the spell down, and take a shot.


    Aflia considered her father''s words for a long moment, visualizing just how such a modification would flow when she cast it. Just making it ''tighter'' won''t do much on its own, but what happens if I impart a spin? Arrows and crossbow bolts that spin go further and more accurately, so perhaps...


    She first made the attempt with a Fire Bolt, but the flames were stubborn about compressing. They flared and flickered, burning hot and free, disrupting the spiral Alfia was trying to impart.


    "You are on the right track, but perhaps you should try frost before flame?"


    Aflia sighed and lowered her arms from her casting stance. "I would if I knew how to cast a Frost Bolt."


    Yarizos'' head twitched ever so slightly. "The tower only taught you fire spells?"


    Aflia shook her head. "I had to teach myself. The instructors there despised Tieflings, but couldn''t kick me out without offending you."


    "Then let me show you..."


    Twenty minutes later, Aflia''s first Frost Bolt put a spike of ice into the target''s head. Ten minutes after that, she put a blue-white Fire Bolt into the same point. Where the ice had pierced, the fire broke free, pitching the target on its back.

 Chapter 21: Capstones

    Khuk accepted the letter from Sister Valfina. She was slightly off-guard, as she had planned to start building the nest this weekend, but the letter might change things.


    It did.


    "What''s it say?" Valfina was unsettled by the worried look on Khuk''s face.


    "Talae got herself mauled by a bear, and the Druids would like a second opinion on her treatment. The two female druids present in the grove are either too inexperienced, or too disturbed by her heritage, to treat her properly."


    Valfina nodded. "And the males are too uptight about naked females to treat her right. Go. I''ll be waiting."


    Khuk bobbed her head and started to gather her things.


    <hr>


    Talae Telena lay back on her new bear fur bed. Her ribs still ached something fierce, and her legs were intact enough to totter to the chamber pot and back, but the enforced inactivity chafed at her willpower. She wanted to be up and moving, but her body wouldn''t heal fast enough on its own.


    A winged figure descended in front of the cave mouth and stalked cautiously inside, a glowing stone held high. "Talae? Are you here?"


    "Little Bird! Over here on the bed! I''d hug you if my ribs would let me."


    Little Bird hurried over, glowing stone held high. "Kuko! Talae you look like you tried to stop a storm with your chest! What happened, and why aren''t the druids healing you properly?"


    Talae gave a lopsided grin. "Probably because I scared the furs right of their pampered asses. The wisp with the honey hair got the bones set right, but doesn''t know enough healing magic to really help things along. The brown-haired cunt got her ass kicked by a Drow raiding party way back when, so she won''t come in here at all. Same reason I''m not bunked down anywhere near the grove."


    Little Bird bobbed her head, then looked about the cave, appraising it. "This would make a good nest to spend a few days. I''ve learned a few things I want to show you, and a friend I''d like to introduce you too, If she''s willing to come. In the meantime, let''s get your bones healing, then we can spend some time talking."


    Talae lay back with a sigh of relief. "Perhaps the wisp can lend a hand...?"


    Little Bird gently swated Talae upside the head. "Only if she''s willing. Kuko, you really have been stuck on your own for too long, haven''t you. Alright, hold still, this will tingle..."


    <hr>


    Aflia Cencin entered her father''s study carefully. Seeing him sitting behind his desk with official-looking papers stacked all about the place she paused. "Father or Instructor?"


    Yarizos shrugged. "Instructor."


    Aflia Stiffened slightly. His answer meant that this was a formal meeting. She dropped into her favorite of the two chairs facing the desk and crossed her legs. "So why the summons Instructor?"Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    "How well do you know one Aris Cretu?"


    Aflia frowned in thought. "A fellow guild mate, but we met only a few days before arriving in Altheim. Human, capable fighter, no fan of slavers. Why do you ask?"


    Yarizos flipped a slim book across the table to her. "Because he just co-authored a new and very definitive primer on Primordial with High Mage Ultian."


    Aflia blinked. "Aris? Co-authored? You are certain of this?"


    Yarizos huffed and flicked a finger at the book. "Ultian credits Aris with most of the language work, as well as with translating several runes in the old tomes we haven''t been able to translate for quite some time. Ultian''s called me in to assist with the next one, and I don''t like walking in blind. So what do you know of Aris Cretu?"


    Alfia shakes her head, clearly lost. "I didn''t know he spoke Primordial. Lord Wavethunder may know more, he spent quite some time interviewing Aris when we first arrived."


    Yarizos leans back and stares at the ceiling. "New set of questions. As your Father, not your Instructor.


    Aflia leaned back. The formal interview was over, but the informal one could be just as piercing. "Oh?"


    "Bloodlines."


    That one word answer furrowed Aflia''s brow. "Aris'', I presume? Human through and through, commoner working the Sapphire docks as a fisherman before joining the Ironbark Mercenary Band. Orphan, never knew his parents, and he speaks Primordial."


    Yarizos leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk. "One only leaves Ironbark feet-first or six foot under. But his actions in Chedal tell me he wouldn''t flee from Ironbark... What''s missing...?"


    Aflia blinks. "You didn''t hear? Ironbark is dead. Ambushed and wiped out almost to a man."


    Yarizos'' head tips ever so slightly. "A suspicious mind would find Aris'' survival quite interesting then."


    Aflia''s eyebrows rise. "And Lord Wavethunder isn''t a suspicious elf?"


    "HA! A fair point. I guess you will be accompanying me after all."


    "Eh?"


    "To assist Ultian and Aris of course! We leave tomorrow morning."


    <hr>


    Aris Cretu checks over the runes in the circle one more time. They are all exactly as described in his little book of rituals. The candles are as yet unlit, The incantation as yet unspoken.


    He takes a deep breath, and lets out his tension. His desk is already inscribed with the other spell in his ritual book, Comprehend Languages, and well tested with dozens of obscure tomes in uncommon languages. This Find Familiar ritual is no different.


    Except it is. Except it''s the first time the entire incantation is to be done in Primordial, at least by the kingdom of Althiem''s records, and it is not the same ritual inscribed into every wizard''s first spellbook. It''s Aris'' personal version, the one he worked with Instructor Ultian to adapt, and its successful casting will serve as his final examination before graduation.


    Aris reviews his ritual book once more. He consults his notes on the incantation. He lets the runes roll and echo in his head, not daring to speak them aloud, not yet.


    Everything is ready, and yet something seems not quite right. Aris looks around. It isn''t with the circle, the runes, or the candles, so it must be the incantation. But the runes are all correct.


    He thinks it over a bit more, letting the cadence of the incantation flow through his mind.


    The discrepancy strikes him like a hammer blow, upsetting his carefully calmed mind. Elvish spells are spoken or chanted. Aflia''s spells in Primordial have all been one- or two-word evocations, barked out and backed by force of will. A ritual in Primordial won''t follow either of those patterns.


    Aris thinks back over Lady SiDabolo''s songs, letting the haunting melodies flow over him, listening to the echo of her sweet soprano over the becalmed waves.


    He takes in another breath, and lets out his uncertainty. Aris reaches for the waiting taper, strikes the match, and begins to sing.

 Chapter 22: Unification

    Aris Cretu stared across the circle of runes at the small kitten that had answered his call for a familiar.


    The kitten</a> sat there attentively, its glittering golden eyes staring out from night-black fur. "Mew?" You called?


    "Hello to you too little one. Do you have a name?"


    "Mew..." No¡­


    "No? Come here and let''s think of one together then."


    "Mew!" Yay! The kitten dashed across the circle, its little paws expertly missing all of the runes, and pounced into Aris'' lap. "Muurrrrr..." Happy¡­


    Aris smiled and stroked his familiar. "How about Onca?"


    "Mew...?" Onca...? The kitten thought it over for a moment. Aris could feel the churn of its young thoughts. "Murr..." But I''m dark, not spotted¡­


    "Nox Onca then?"


    "Mew? Mew!" Night Jaguar? Yes!Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    <hr>


    Aflia Cencin followed her father Yarizos Elmid, Lord Cencin, into High Mage Ultian''s study. Immediately, she all but tripped over a kitten chasing after a mouse.


    The kitten tumbled over her shoe, spun about to face her, let out a startled "Mrow!" and raced off.


    Yarizos huffs smoke. "Familiars. Haven''t seen that one before."


    Aflia''s mood perks up when she hears a familiar voice from behind a bookcase.


    "Red Lady? Horns, tail, and scales? Aflia is here?"


    Yarizos'' head tilts minutely, one eye swiveling around to lock onto Aflia, "is that Aris?¡±


    Aris emerges from around the bookcase with the kitten perched on his shoulder. He slows when he sees Yarizos, his eyes narrowing, eating up the details. "Aflia and Lord Cencin I presume?"


    Yarizos nods, "fetch your Instructor for me would you Aris? We have much to discuss."


    Aris'' brow furrows. "You want me to fetch Blademaster Elaric?"


    The kitten ¡®mews'' and bops Aris on the back of the head with one tiny paw.


    Aris boops the kitten on the nose. "Easy there Noxxy. I''ll get High Mage Ultian." He turns to head back into the stacks. "This way, Lord and Lady Cencin."


    <hr>


    Talae Telena groans as Sister Valfina works on her aching legs. "Urgh. How long until You guys let me out of bed again?"


    Little Bird flicks a wing in irritation. "After that stunt you just pulled? Moonrise tomorrow at the earliest. And that''s only because we need to head back to the city so you can finish healing properly. Plus you still need lessons on the surface version of Kuko''s teachings."


    Talae moans under Valfina''s continuing labors. "And Sister Valfina here can''t do that in our cozy nest?"


    Little Bird grins "she could buuuut..."


    Talae raises one eyebrow, "buuuut what?"


    Little Bird''s grin turns delightfully mischievous. "That''s a secret your going to have to find out the fun way!"


    Talae groans and puts her face back down into the bear fur bed.

 Chapter 23: Dinner Invitations

    Little Bird and Talae Telena stare at the messenger. He scrapes a shoe across a tile.


    Talae speaks first, shock lingering in her voice, "Her Highness is summoning us to a dinner party?"


    The messenger nods his head furiously.


    Talae''s eyebrows climb higher into her hairline.


    Little Bird bobs her head, "of course we accept. And don''t worry, we do have clothing appropriate for court."


    The messenger squeaks out his thanks and all but flees the temple, leaving the official invitations behind. Talae and Little Bird both collapse in laughter as soon as the messenger is out of sight.


    Little Bird regains her voice first. "Oh dear. I hope we didn''t start any rumors by not bothering to change out of our raiment before we answered the door."This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Talae guffaws, "Nah. But the messenger probably wasn''t expecting that. Poor kid."


    They both lapse into a fit of giggles.


    <hr>


    Aflia Cencin stares at the gilded letter from Her Majesty, Queen Shallahai, summoning her to a dinner party. Her father was fuming in his study, infuriated that the letter wasn''t summoning him as her guardian. Aflia considered including him anyway for the barest heartbeat.


    Then her heart hardened. He had done nothing for her that wasn''t also to his own advantage. Aflia dashed off a formal acceptance letter and gave it to the messenger as soon as the ink had dried. Leaving her father still ranting, she packed a bag and left the Cencin estate.


    <hr>


    Aris, still in his dress uniform from the graduation ceremony, took the gilded invitation from the messenger. "Of course I accept. It would be exceedingly foolish of me to turn down such an invitation from Her Majesty."


    The messenger bowed and left.


    Aris sighed. "Noxxy, can you behave, or do I need to leave you behind?"


    "Mew!" Of course I''ll behave!


    Aris rested his face in one callused hand. "Try to keep the carnage to a minimum this time Noxxy."

 Chapter 24: Swords or Daggers

    Aris Cretu strode down the long hallway towards the dining room. Nox Onca trotted at his side, but for once wasn''t mewling questions or dashing about after dust bunnies. He felt naked without his armor and weapons, but it just wouldn''t do to bring them into the presence of Queen Shallahai without invitation. The guards standing outside of the door stiffened to attention, then announced his presence, as was protocol. Aris took a tentative step across the threshold and was promptly assaulted by a tidal surge of excited elvish chatter.


    <Swordman!> <Door smasher!> <Where''s his armor?> <Kitten!> <Kitten where?> <Black kitten!> <Can we play with it?> <Mommy please?>


    Nox Onca looked up at Aris. "Mew?" Can I play with them?


    Aris sighed. "Go ahead Noxxy, but no claws!"


    Noxxy promptly dashed off and all three princesses gave chase squealing with delight.


    Aris looked around the room properly for the first time. Six other people, four females and two males, sat in various chairs about a dining table. He recognized all of them. The King of Althiem and Queen Shallahai he expected. Lord Wavethunder''s presence wasn''t too much of a surprise, but did hint at another reason for the dinner invitation. The real surprise was the presence of Talae, Aflia, and Little Bird.


    Everyone was dressed well but comfortably. Queen Shallahai had a dress in royal purple, and a silver coronet kept her hair from her eyes. The King wore a comfortable purple robe and the emerald-set chain Aris recognized as his version of a presence crown, a symbol of rank suitable for common use. Talae had her golden dress on, though Aris spotted new definition in her muscles, and a bear-claw necklace set with a full complement of long claws. Lord Wavethunder was dressed in a sober grey shirt and brown pants. Little Bird wore a slim green dress that left her wings free. Aflia had a black blouse and skirt that contrasted strongly with her crimson skin. Queen Shallahai waved him to join the group, so Aris did, taking the only open chair next to Lord Wavethunder and the King of Althiem''s wheelchair.


    Queen Shallahai leaned back in her chair. "Thank you for coming Aris."


    Aris bowed as best he could while seated, "It was my pleasure your majesty. I am slightly surprised to see so many familiar faces however."


    Queen Shallahai clasped her hands. "Oh good, We hoped that would be so. We''ll leave all of the dreary business until after the dinner however, particularly if your familiar can tire out the princesses enough for the meal."


    Aris bowed again, "As you wish your majesty." You hear that Noxxy? Think you can do it?This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    Of course!


    The King waved a hand weakly, "Go have some fun with the young ladies dear."


    Queen Shallahai waggled a finger at her husband, "no business until after dinner. We can¡¯t have you making secret plans behind our back!"


    The King laughed. "We know little of dresses, and less of female high fashion, so spare us that discussion if you would."


    Queen Shallahai laughed and turned back to the other ladies.


    The king leaned back in his wheelchair. "It does us good to see her in such good spirits. I thank you again for returning the princesses to us Aris. And our wife asked us to not discuss business until after dinner is done and the princesses have gone to bed, so We won''t. But there is yet time before the meal, time enough for stories. We heard you took a round off Blademaster Elaric on your first day?"


    The following conversations eased smoothly into dinner time, which Nox Onca brought the worn-out princesses back in time for, and Aris relaxed at the decreasing formality.


    After dessert was served and cleared away, and the princesses had gone off to bed, The King leaned forward and called the meeting to order. "You all know that our health is poor. What only Lord Wavethunder and Queen Shallahai know is that I plan to abdicate the throne to her in the next month or so."


    There is general murmuring at this announcement. Aris is, by unspoken consent, elected to speak for the party. "How does this affect us your majesty?"


    Lord Wavethunder cleared his throat, "if I may, my King?" He waited a beat, long enough for the king to nod, then continued. "As you mentioned to Elfyr, and to me, Altheim is headed for turmoil. An abdication will help ease the transition, but several nobles are likely to make a fuss."


    Aflia snorted, "Lord Cencin is on your list then?"


    Lord Wavethunder nodded, "Indeed he is Lady Cencin. And yes, you are his heir, and that is also a source of potential unrest. The decision was made that the four of you should serve as my Agents in this matter, and perhaps in others. I know, I know, I didn''t consult with any of you on this, so here''s your chance to get out from under if you want out."


    Aris stepped into the silence that followed Lord Wavethunder''s announcement. "I can''t say if I speak for all of us on this, but I''m in. That snake-cult is still out there, and they had their sights set on this kingdom, so this is the best chance I have to stop them."


    Aflia nodded, "If it means sticking a thumb in Lord Cencin''s eye, count me in."


    Talae grunts, "I saw what they tried to do to the princesses. I''m in."


    Little Bird flexed her wings and bobbed her head. "I''m not leaving my friends behind. I''m in."


    Lord Wavethunder bows in his seat, "Thank you. The question remains as to what use I should put you to. On one hand, you four were already a proven combat team before your recent training stint, so keeping you together and adding you to the ranks of my ''door-knockers'' is a logical choice. On the other hand all four of you have superior minds and even temperaments, well suited to intelligence work, and I''m chronically short-handed in that area."


    <hr>


    Status Report:


    Money: 5 Gold coins


    Food and water: 10 days of hardtack rations


    Equipment: in good condition


    The Ring: obsidian band with one carbuncle gem and two empty settings


    Total Deaths: 1

 Chapter 25: Classified

    Aris grinned at Lord Wavethunder, "Any brute can knock on a door. What do you want us to poke into first?"


    Lord Wavethunder frowned, "Elfyr dropped out of contact. He was following a lead on a snake cult operating on the edges of Cencin lands."


    Aris'' mind whirled, "Whoo boy, right into the rat''s nest. Yarizos is already untrustworthy, so he''s an unknown factor. If he''s part of the cult, he''s already working with them. If he''s not part of the cult, he might have gone after Elfyr for his own reasons."


    The King and Queen stared at Aris intently. Lord Wavethunder leaned back in his chair, "So what''s your plan?"


    "I''m going to talk to Yarizos."


    <hr>


    The butler at the door took one look at Aris'' uniform and the dire look on Talae''s face and got out of the way.


    Aris nodded curtly, "Thank you. Lord Cencin is in his study I assume?"


    The butler nodded furiously, "Yes he is. This way Master Cretu."


    Aris nodded and followed the butler.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    Yarizos was understandably furious. "What have you done with my Daughter?"


    Talae bristled, but leaned against the doorframe.


    Aris simply stood his ground and raised one eyebrow. "Interesting. In every letter you sent, she was ''Lady Cencin'', but now that she''s outside your reach, she''s your daughter."


    Yarizos huffed smoke, "Of course she''s my daughter! And you can forget the ''good Agent, bad Agent'' act, I''ve seen it before."


    Aris didn''t even blink. "What makes you think I''m the good Agent, Yarizos?"


    Yarizos sneered, "Of course you are the good Agent ''Master'' Cretu. Everyone knows what Dark Elves are like!"


    Aris gave a lazy grin, "Agent Telena is here for the express purpose of making sure you survive this meeting."


    Yarizos stopped sneering, "Why are you here?"


    Aris didn''t stop grinning, "Lord Cencin; this your formal notification, as required by the laws of Althiem, that Agents are conducting independent investigations on your lands."


    Yarizos nodded, constrained in his responses by the sudden formality of the exchange, "As the Lord whose lands these are, may I know what matters are being investigated?"


    Aris turned to leave, "That''s classified."


    <hr>


    Status Report:


    Money: +50 gold per day.


    Food and water: 10 days of hardtack rations.


    Equipment: in good condition.


    The Ring: obsidian band with one carbuncle gem and two empty settings


    Total Deaths: 1

 Chapter 26: Plotting

    A few hours after the previous chapter, in a private booth of a local tavern...


    Aris leaned back and contemplated the rest of the party. "Alright, now that the official message has been delivered, it''s time to get to the actual work. Only problem: all of us stick out like sore thumbs here."


    Aflia shrugged, "nothing to be done about that. Kaeleer is a small town that grew up around the Cencin docks and sawmill when the manor was being built. So we''re already flagged as outsiders just because no-one knows us."


    Little Bird flexed her wings, "so if we''re going to be noticed anyway, then why not ask questions openly?"


    Aris shook his head, "I hate to say it, but we''re going to have to do exactly that. The cult had to enter the Cencin lands somehow. And even if they are operating out in the wilds instead of in Kaeleer they would have to have some contact with the outside world. So they have to have an agent in Kaeleer somewhere. Yarizos would also have an agent in the town too, if for no other reason then to manage the town in his absence. So when we start asking questions, we won''t get any useful answers."


    Talae stroked Nox''s fur, "So what do we do?"


    Aris shook his head, "I start asking questions with Talae. Aflia and Little Bird will have to watch our backs. When someone inevitably tries to grab us they will step in. We should end up with at least one captive to start unraveling the network."The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    Aflia shakes her head, "not happening that way Aris. Better to have me with you when you are asking questions, with Little bird and Talae on standby. I may even be able to put some of the locals at ease enough to answer truthfully."


    Aris mulled this over for a moment, "it makes logical sense..."


    Talae stretched and yawned, "with that settled, I''m off to bed."


    Aris'' eyebrow rose, "we only rented two rooms, so who is sleeping with whom?"


    Talae grinned, "I can''t sleep in the same room as you if we want to keep up the appearance of needing both rooms. So Little Bird is with me, and Aflia is with you."


    Aflia agreed, "go have another mug of ale while I get ready for bed Aris."


    Aris stood up and yawned hugely, "Don''t take too long, we all need sleep." Noxxy, please go with Aflia and let me know when she gets in bed so I can come up.


    "Murr" Ok, I''ll let you know.


    <hr>


    Status Report:


    Money: +50 gold per day.


    Food and water: 10 days of hardtack rations.


    Equipment: in good condition.


    The Ring: obsidian band with one carbuncle gem and two empty settings


    Total Deaths: 1

 Chapter 27: Opportunity?

    Mew! Aflia is in bed.


    Thank you Nox. I''ll be up when I finish my drink.


    Aris left enough coin on the bar to cover the bill with his empty mug and headed for the stairs. He reached his room, opened the door, and had to scrape his jaw off the floor.


    Aflia lay on the bed wearing silver lace that covered little and concealed less.


    Aris shut the door and headed for the chair in the corner.


    Aflia frowned, "declining the invitation?"


    Aris shook his head, "ask me in the morning when I don''t have three or four ales in my blood."


    Aflia pulled the blanket up with her tail, "and if I''m still interested?"Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    Aris extinguished the candle, "then we''ll talk about it." He sat down in the chair, and in the tradition of soldiers everywhere, fell asleep.


    <hr>


    The creak of the door woke Aris. He gripped the handle of his morningstar and waited. The door creaked further open as a hooded figure slid cautiously into the room.


    Aris heaved the morning star.


    <Shit!> The figure collapsed to the floor, clutching at its leg.


    The morningstar sailed over the figure''s head into the hallway. It clattered harmlessly to the floor.


    Aris froze, <Elfyr? What the hell are you doing?>


    Aflia woke with a start, clutching the blanket to her chest. "What in the nine hells?"


    Elfyr rolled over onto his side, <I sent a report, and Lord Wavethunder sent you?>


    <hr>


    Status Report:


    Money: +50 gold per day.


    Food and water: 10 days of hardtack rations.


    Equipment: in good condition.


    The Ring: obsidian band with one carbuncle gem and two empty settings


    Total Deaths: 1

 Chapter 28: Miscommunication

    Aris helped Elfyr to his feet and led him into the hall, "Take your time getting up Aflia, he needs a healer and some food."


    Aflia used a spell to push the door shut, "alright, but we are still going to have that talk."


    Aris picked up his morning star, "so what''s this about a report? We got sent out because Lord Wavethunder had lost contact with you."


    Elfyr turned a shade paler, "It didn''t get through?"


    Aris shook his head, "nothing for the past three months."


    Elfyr grabbed Aris'' arm tightly, "We can''t trust the locals. Not even the healers. Too much loyalty to or fear of Lord Cencin."


    Aris knocked on the door to Little Bird''s room, "Fortunate then that we brought a Cleric with us."


    Little Bird opened the door and poked her head round it, "I''m sorry, were we too loud?"


    Aris blushed slightly, then cleared his throat, "no ma''am but we do require your services." At her raised eyebrows, Aris quickly added, "as a healer."


    Little Bird''s demeanor changed, "Give us two minutes to arrange some things." She shut the door.


    Talae opened the door and ushered Elfyr inside before grabbing Aris by the arm and heading back to his room, "Little Bird just needs time and space to work. Afila probably wants to talk to you, so let''s get that done."


    Talae opened the door without knocking, "alright, discussion time. What went wrong last night?"


    Aris shut the door and rubbed the back of his neck, "well..."This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    Aflia''s tail flicked nervously under her robe, "uhm..."


    Talae looked back and forth between the two of them, "so nothing happened? Alright, your explanation first Aris."


    Aris kept rubbing. "Mostly I was three drinks in."


    Talae raised one of her eyebrows. "Lightweight."


    Aflia snorted. "Hardly. The outfit worked, and Aris'' pants were too tight to hide his reaction, but he wanted to go into things clear-headed."


    Talae nodded in approval. "A wise choice Aris. I won''t have to splatter the walls with your brains then."


    Aris matched her stare. "You''d be welcome to try."


    Talae grinned. "Sorry, I prefer women. I can still give you some pointers if you want though..."


    Aris blushed furiously. Aflia looked intrigued.


    Talae laughed, "You''re cute Aris. Alright, I''ll go easy on you. Little Bird is going to need another hour or so to finish her healing, and another six or so for sleep. With a patient in the room, I''m kicked out, so let me share a bit of information with you two..."


    <hr>


    Several hours later...


    Elfyr joined the party for breakfast, still rubbing at his sore leg, "Thank you Little Bird. I thought I''d be limping for the rest of my life.


    Little Bird pecked at her toast, "You still need to take it easy or those bones won''t heal right. Eat up, you need the fuel."


    Elfyr bowed as best he could before taking his seat. "Yes Ma''am."


    The party ate in companionable silence, each delaying the inevitable. Finally, breakfast was over and all eyes turned to Elfyr.


    He cleared his throat, "I''ve been out here for three months, chasing rumors. Last night, I learned that none of my reports actually got through, which casts what little I have learned in a sinister light."


    Elfyr took a sip of water before continuing, "The only way those reports would have been blocked is if be if Lord Cencin is involved with the cult. Or, if he is not, then his household and guard is totally infiltrated."


    <hr>


    Status Report:


    Money: +50 gold per day.


    Food and water: 10 days of hardtack rations.


    Equipment: in good condition.


    The Ring: obsidian band with one carbuncle gem and two empty settings


    Total Deaths: 1

 Chapter 29: Daggers Seeking Backs

    Aris nodded slowly, "alright, so now we know. Time to get you back to the capital."


    Elfyr shook his head, "too late for that. Every year, Queen Shallahai spends the week of the summer solstice in Trebor, a little monastery near here, to rest and recover from political life. I was sent to make sure it was safe this year after the Princesses were kidnapped. She will already be aboard ship and headed this way."


    Talae leaned back and considered the situation, "a fatal sign of weakness if Queen Shallahai abandons her plans at this stage. So we have to make sure she survives this trip, bait the Cult out to where we can hammer them, and trap Yarizos in his own treachery or incompetence."


    Aflia rested her head in her hands, "any one of those tasks would be hard. All three together? Impossible."


    Little Bird bobbed her head, "we have prey walking into a trap, but perhaps that prey can be bait for a trap of our own?"


    Aris grinned, "We have a plan then. Queen Shallahai heads to her convent as usual. When the inevitable betrayal happens, we make sure she not only survives, but dominates."If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Elfyr rubbed at his freshly healed leg, "you will have to leave today if you want to get to Trebor in time. And you are going to have to leave me behind, I''ll only slow you down."


    Aris frowns, "not happening. I''m not leaving another friend to die in hostile lands. Yarizos and the Cult got to you once, they can do so again."


    Elfyr thumped the table, "dammit Aris, this isn''t a choice. You can''t protect me and the Queen at the same time. I''ll be on a fishing boat and gone before sundown. You need to leave for Trebor by noon if you want a snowball''s chance in hell of pulling of your plan."


    Aris grunted, "pull out a map and show the route then."


    Elfyr shrugged helplessly, "I lost almost everything when I got jumped. Let''s see yours."


    Aris smirked, "well, looks like you''re coming with us then, because I don''t have one either."


    <hr>


    Status Report:


    Money: +50 gold per day.


    Food and water: 10 days of hardtack rations.


    Equipment: in good condition.


    The Ring: obsidian band with one carbuncle gem and two empty settings


    Total Deaths: 1

 Chapter 30: The Vipers Burrow

    Yarizos Elmid, Lord Cencin, entered the tavern hooded and cloaked against the fading light. He approached the barkeep, "Mrs. Escurco is expecting me."


    The barkeep scrubbed another mug, watching him through hooded yellow eyes, "She''s reserved the private taproom for the night. First hall on the left, third door on the right."


    Yarizos nodded and left a silver coin on the bar, "thank you."


    He let his claws tick on the floorboards, giving plenty of advance warning of his approach. It wouldn''t do to startle the hired bodyguard.


    The bodyguard stirred at his approach, hand drifting to an ironwood club, "lower the hood pleasse."


    Yarizos snorted smoke but complied, "must we always do this dance?"


    The bodyguard bowed and opened the door, "I take my tasskingss sserioussly Masster Elmid. The Misstresss will ssee you now."


    Yarizos entered the private taproom and laid eyes on his co-conspirator for the first time in nearly a year. They had exchanged letters often, but these face-to-face meetings were inordinately risky at the best of times. Mistress Botheri, an assumed name if he ever heard one, was as stunning as ever. Her golden scales with their white highlights shimmered in the flickering candlelight. The green dress clung and floated in the most distracting manner. But little could hide the prominent brow-ridges, the absence of hair, or the diamond pupils slashing through yellow eyes.


    "Madame Botheri, you are as stunning as ever."


    "Masster Elmid, sso courteouss ass ever. Come, join me in drink and celebration! Come ssunup, Sshallahai will be no more, and we one sstep closser to our goalss."Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    Yarizos sat and took the offered wine glass. He toyed with the stem, "Your people removed the Agents then?"


    Botheri refilled her glass with languid grace, "Agentss? Wavethunder only ssent one, and the venom sslew him three dayss ago. More have come hunting already?"


    Yarizos leaned back in his chair, "two new ones, playing in the open and by the rules, asking after the dead one."


    Botheri flicked her tongue, tasting the air, "Who are they?"


    Yarizos shrugged, and took a delicate sip of the wine, "excellent wine. A dark elf of no note, and a human learned in Primordial."


    Botheri drew in on herself, "Only two?"


    Yarizos took another sip of wine, "only two announced themselves to me."


    "Then you have been played for the fool. Connectionss. Wavethunder doess not take on Agentss for no reasson." Botheri locked eyes with Yarizos, "You will ssilence them."


    Yarizos bristled, "I silenced the first and you slew him the same day mister Cretu arrived. They are no threat. And come dawn, Shalahai will be dead, the King abdicated, and I will sit on the Regency Council. You will have your friend in power, and I will have my shadowed blade."


    "Sss... Thiss complicatess thingss. Too many loosse ends. Time to tie ssome of them off."


    Yarizos drank deeply, emptying his glass, "then I will go home and be above suspicion when the news arrives."


    "Sstay a bit longer, I inssisst."


    Yarizos moved to stand, but found his legs unable to move, "You poisoned me? why?"


    "Becausse our pathss were in parallel, but never the ssame. And becausse you know too many ssecretss."


    Yarizos tried to speak, but found his tongue immobilized. He could think, desperately wanted to scream, but could not move.


    "Sservant, Tell the barkeep that hiss blood ssaussagess will be particularly sspicy tomorrow. Dragonborn flessh and blood alwayss tastes sso disstinctive."

 Chapter 31: Thunderstorm

    Lady Ussi, called Mistress Botheri Escuro, the Viper, gazed down at the map, "My ssonss, iss thiss confirmed?"


    Uhssu, her eldest son and chief adviser rolled his shoulders, "Yess and no mother. Everything I have been able to verify iss true, but the last hass not been. Yarizoss confirmed two new Agentss were looking for the one that wass disspatched, but four unussual people got off the boat."


    Ultlu, her youngest son and Master of Shadowblades, tapped a claw on map. "Sshallahai iss at Trebor, and the Agentss, however many there are, have vanisshed. Thiss puts the planned asssasssination at rissk. With another piece on the board sset against uss, the balance has sshifted."


    Utsszi, her middle son and top field agent, interlocked his fingers deep in thought, "Perhapss, and perhapss not. If the Agentss went back to the capital Padan, then they would sstill be aboard sship."


    Uhssu tipped his head forward, staring into the middle distance of his thoughts, "Thiss close to the deadline, we either posstpone until next year, sstrike as planned, or abandon the plan altogether. We do not have time to make changes."


    Lady Ussi rapped her claws on the table, "Yarizoss iss dead, there iss no abandoning the plan. Ultlu, Utsszi, opinionss?"


    Utsszi raised one claw, "Do we know who any of the Agentss are?"


    Ultlu hissed in frustration, "what difference would it make?"


    Utsszi blinked slowly, "The firsst dictum: know your foe."


    Ultlu subsided, conceding the point.


    Uhssu shrugged, "The one Ultlu had disspatched was called Elfyr, but my informerss have learned no other namess."


    Lady Ussi flicked her tongue, "Yarizoss mentioned a Cretu, pressumably the human male, wass learned in Primordial. Doess that make make any conectionss?"


    Uhssu and Utsszi both stiffened in their seats. The both began to speak over each other, then Utsszi yielded to Uhssu.


    Uhssu cleared his throat, "This Cretu is likely a sscholar or sspellcaster then. I have heard rumorss of a new Primordial primer that he was credited with co-authoring. The name iss alsso familiar from older reportss, but I cannot place it."


    Utsszi stepped into the silence, "I can place him. Aris Cretu, the bladessman who was responsible for the Chedal disaster. Giving him time to plan and act iss the worsst thing that we could do."


    Lady Ussi pondered this for a moment "Perhaps not just a pawn, but a Pawn then? Ultlu, my Master of Sshadowbladess, the sstrike must go in at dawn, and musst not misss."


    Ultlu bowed, "I will lead them mysself."


    <hr>


    Aris Cretu could not remember his dream, because the black-cloaked person was kicking his boot. This meant that the black-cloaked person was a professional soldier, because you don''t try to shake a soldier awake by the shoulders unless you have already divested him of all of his weapons and tied him down.


    "Alright, alright, I''m awake. Did I die again?"


    The figure stared down at Aris, and gestured to the featureless black plain that they stood on, "You aren''t awake, nor are you dead, and that''s the problem."


    "Eh?"


    "Discord on the air, black threads severed in the dawn, time runs short."


    "you still can''t give me a direct answer, can you?"


    The figure shakes its head, "no, and if you think about it, you know why. Wake, and Act."


    <hr>


    Aris opened his eyes as the crash of thunder announced the start of a thunderstorm, "Elfyr? Get up, we need to get moving."


    Talae turned from her watch, "what''s wrong Aris?"


    Elfyr groaned his way awake, "what she said. We''re only three hours from Trebor, and I don''t want to wake the guards before dawn. They tend to stab first and ask questions third or fourth."Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    Aris looked at Talae, locking eyes with her, willing her to understand, "we are out of time."


    <hr>


    Keleric Erro, Commander of the Quesguard, decided to take a pre-dawn patrol of his camp and check the sentries around Trebor. His men were professionals, not selected for their shy or retiring ways, but a surprise inspection should help keep them on their toes.


    Indeed his sentries were doing their jobs well. Half of them were highly visible, patrolling back and forth at regular and predictable intervals. The other half were well hidden, tucked into cover with blades close to hand. The Sergeant of the picket at the back of the convent emerged from a shrub to salute him on his rounds.


    Keleric Erro returned the salute and stopped to take the Sargent''s report. It was the last thing he ever did.


    <hr>


    Ultlu, Master of Shadowblades, gave a word of praise to the bowsnakes. They had opened the attack early, but they had caught the commander of the Queesguard in the opening volley. His strike plans were only slightly disordered, and he had gained a large advantage.


    "Sstart the sstrike. Leave none alive."


    <hr>


    The camp of the Queensguard was almost caught unawares. No more than a third of their number were awake, and only a tithe of them had weapons ready to hand. They died hard and loud, slaughtered to an elf, but they did accomplish two critical things. They took more than their fair share of foes with them to the grave, and they raised the alarm, giving the convent pickets invaluable moments to act.


    The convent pickets fell back, collapsing on the reserve squad posted in the visitors quarters of the convent. Arrows continued to fall around them, and only the low walls around that structure would give any cover.


    Aided by the pre-dawn showers just beginning to fall, half of them actually made it. Thunder rolled in the distance as the senior surviving Sargent, Paran Ilijor, took command of the twenty-three survivors.


    He looked about at his command, <well, they mean business. Quinro, take Beiro and Vairc with you. I know all three of you are hurt, but guard Queen Shallahai as best you can. We''ll buy you all the time we can.>


    <hr>


    Ultlu, Master of Shadowblades, winced as his two surviving officers reported in. He had lost the commander of the assault on the camp, along with half of the snakes assigned to it. Matched with the squads who had ambushed the pickets and bowsnakes, he had only fifty-six snakes left, including himself.


    "Ela, take twenty-five ssnakess and encircle the visitorss quarterss. Your task is to pin the foe in place. Azssi, take another five, fire the main chapel, and confirm the dead. I will organize the rest before leading the final asssault."


    <hr>


    Aris Cretu''s nose started twitching, "Does anyone else smell that?"


    Little Bird looked up from tending to Elfyr''s leg again, "smell what?"


    "Smoke."


    <hr>


    Paran Ilijor dumped another serpentine body from his blade. The first wave had been turned back, broken against his Queensguard, but he had lost men as well. He didn''t know how many exactly, but the number was too high, whatever it was. He had no way to call for help, no way to get his Queen out thought the snakes surrounding his position. All he could do was hold on and pray for salvation.


    The enemy fell back beyond the wall, but he could hear their officers already regrouping them. This next assault would determine the fight, whether the foe had the numbers to break his position, or whether it would come down to a siege and the messenger bird bringing the heavies to bear in time.


    <Elves! On me! Stand! For Queen and Altheim, Stand!>


    The second wave came on the heels of his shout. The brutal shock of snakes against disciplined and motivated steel threw the foe back for one fleeting heartbeat.


    "HIT THEM!" A hard voice on the wind, coming from behind the assault wave commanded, "BREAK THEM!"


    The snakes regrouped in the pounding rain, illuminated by lightning crashing across the sky. They came on again, and Paran''s world devolved in steel and blood.


    <hr>


    Ultlu, Master of Shadowblades, roared in frustration as his second assault wave faltered, "HIT THEM! BREAK THEM!"


    His snakes surged forth once more, and the Queensguard began to fall. It would only be a matter of time now.


    AILAILAILAILAILAILAILAILAILAI!


    The warcry comes from behind him, so Ultlu turns to face the oncoming threat. He has just long enough to see a hard-eyed man swing a greatsword before he sees nothing at all.


    <hr>


    Queen Shallahai picks up a fallen sword and stands in the doorway of her rooms. She can hear the fighting outside, knows that all that remains of her Queensguard are the three injured elves behind her. As the first snake comes down the hallway, only two things keep her alive. One is the width of the hall, forcing her foes to come at her one at a time. The second is the swordskill she picked up behind her father''s back. The swordmaster she hired in secret wasn''t of the old school, he knew that swords had points for a reason. Her first economical thrust put a foot of steel through her foes throat. She recovered her stance before he had finished falling, and put another thrust into the belly of the next foe.


    AILAILAILAILAILAILAILAILAILAI!


    The warcry distracted her third opponent long enough for her to tangle him up in a duel. Help had arrived, and she only needed to survive a bit longer.


    AILAILAILAILAILAILAILAILAILAI!


    The warcry comes again, echoed in two throats this time, and the tempo of combat beyond the walls of her quarters escalates again.


    Her foe died as a gory thunderbolt connected with his spine. She steps back and watches in sick fascination as eighteen inches of steel vanish back though his chest before he slumps to the ground.


    Queen Shallahai gets her first sight of her savior, and nearly throws up. He stands the full width of the narrow hallway, clad in gore and viscera. A red rain of blood drips from his blade and armor. He spits a thick red liquid on the ground before speaking, "You are well Queen Shallahai?"


    She finds her voice, "We are. Thank you Aris Cretu, Lord Trebor."

 Chapter 32: Lord of Trebor

    Aris sat at a desk in a borrowed office, working his way through the deeds and titles, the tax records and statements, and the sundry paperwork that encompassed the taking up of a Noble Title. He had said the oath, formally taken up the title, and now he was faced with sorting out decades of benign neglect topped with recent ravages. The fight at the convent has saved Queen Shalahai''s life, but had also destroyed what had been the main draw to the area. Now he had several petitions to sort through from the small fishing town on top of figuring out how to rebuild the convent.


    "Mrow?" Still awake?


    "Yes Noxxy. I''m still awake and still stuck dealing with this paperwork."


    "Meow?" Still confused by the Queen''s gift?


    "I''m just a fisherman-turned-soldier. What do I know about making heads or tails of these legal documents?"


    "Mrow?" Then why not look at the Queen''s gift?


    Aris carefully lays his quill down, caps the inkwell, places the papers out of the way, and thumps his head onto the desk. "Noxxy, remind me to catch you an extra fish."


    "Mew! Mew?" Fish! Why?


    "Titles and laws aside, it''s a fishing village. It should be running itself, so all I need do is check in with the mayor and make sure everything is running smoothly.


    Two days later, Aris arrived in the tiny fishing town of Ikin, the only town in Trebor, just before sun-rise. He didn''t bother with the whole grand entrance, just stepped off the ferry and started looking for the fishing boats. He found them in short order by following the smell of water-soaked canvas and sweat. A hard-looking fisherelf, bearded and muscled, loomed up to greet him. <Lord? What can we do for you?>This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    Airs almost laughed at the elf''s timidness. <Just Aris will do. There''s probably a few dozen things need doing, but they all do better on a full belly. I can listen to whomever needs to talk to me later, but for now, who needs and extra hand on their boat this morning?>


    The fisherelf scratched the back of his head, <I don''t rightly know Lord Aris, that ain''t very Lord-like, an'' none of us can pay in coin...>


    Aris did laugh at that, <Ha! Just swap some stories with me when the catch is in, and we''ll call it even. If I''m to rule this town, then I need to know its people, its stories. Best way to do that is to get my hands dirty helping.>


    The fisherelf nodded slowly, <Then... I guess Old Oloro could use a hand, If he''ll let you help him.>


    Aris nodded,


    Old Oloro turned out to be the oldest fisherelf in the town, but every day he rowed his rickety old boat out as far as he could and cast his patchwork net. <So the send another pasty-faced lass to ''lend me a hand.'' Bah! You''ll just get you foot tangled in the net and rip it again.>


    Aris grinned, <Then I''ll sit and row, and you can do the casting, unless your bones are too achey.>


    Old Oloro grinned back, <now that just ain''t fair! If you are on my boat, then you get to do the rowing and the hauling, seeing as you got enough muscle to go around.>


    Aris clasped his shoulder, <I''ll do the hauling if you''ll lead the shanty then. Lead on.>


    <hr>


    Status Report:


    Treasury: 15000 (after a year of living frugally)


    Income: +5 gold per day (semi-retired Agent of Althiem)


    Equipment: In good condition.


    Estates:


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Ikin: Village, Fishing Docks</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Trebor Convent: Ruins</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Four Empty Holdings (may be improved later)</li>


    </ul>


    The Ring: obsidian band with one carbuncle gem and two empty settings


    Total Deaths: 1

 Chapter 33: Memento Memorias

    Lady Ussi sat alone in her darkened room and contemplated the empty night. She had dismissed everyone when the news had arrived, brought by a wounded shadowblade. Her son, Ultlu, was dead. She lifted the carafe and poured the last dregs of wine into the goblet. The little black vial taunted her, promising swift release from her sorrows.


    But something stopped her. Not regret for the war she had almost started at the demands of her Overlords, for how could she regret trying to take back some vestige of freedom, perhaps even reclaiming Cencin for her kind?


    But she had not known the cost of such a war. Oh, she had thought about it, but she hadn''t known it before this day. Her son lay dead, along with eighty of his shadowblades, and with them much of her desire to continue living.


    Tears fell as she remembered her son.


    The end-of-day songs echoed across the water from the small Elven fishing village. Something about them irritated her. The Elves lived openly, working hard and enjoying the fruits of their labors, while her kind hid in the forests. She eyed the black vial, contemplating its contents. Her death now would unleash her sons in earnest, setting off a campaign of atrocity and counter-atrocity that would only end when only one side remained. Would that be so bad? Win or lose, would it not bleed the Althiem Kingdom dry? Reduce them to living as she did? Make the mothers of the enemy weep as she had?The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    She poured the contents of the black vial into the goblet.


    The last song ended as she went to the window, goblet in hand. A curious expectant silence filled the empty night.


    Then a new song began. heavy with emotion, a lone voice lifted in sorrow and remembrance. She couldn''t understand the words, but she didn''t have to. The aching longing carried clearly, swept along by waves of sadness. Something in her broke and tears flowed freely down her face.


    When the song finally faded, she poured the tainted goblet out on the ground. War would only bring more sorrows, and she could stomach no more of them. But she couldn''t end this by herself. There were too many pieces in motion, too many Pawns on the board, too many lines crossed. Not everyone would want peace with blood already shed. She would have to put her house in order, and then send the envoy.

 Chapter 34: Impending Collisions

    Lady Ussi sat back across the lunch table from Uhssu, "Sso what iss the mood of my people then?"


    Uhssu shrugs, playing with a fork, "Dissheartened, but not disscontent. The Branded are the loudest, of coursse, flush with power from our distant Overlordss. You know thiss as well ass I, sso why do you assk?"


    Lady Ussi flicked her tongue, tasting the air, "becausse it may be time to rid oursselvess of them. The Overlordss demanded the Trebor sstrike, and it has cosst us too dearly. Their war would cosst us even more dearly, and they would gain from our bleeding, not uss."


    Uhssu flinched back, "My Lady, mother, be careful how you sspeak. The Branded..."


    "Were sstrongest in our sshadowbladess, and we have only five left, none of them Branded. Of the remaining Branded, I know who their top agent iss, and sso doess Utsszi."


    Ohssu''s claws dug into the table as he drops all pretense, "Do you not obey our Overlords then?"


    Lady Ussi looked her son in the eyes, "my obedience to them extendss exactly ass far ass the reach of the Branded. With no sshadowbladess, Ariss Cretu himself in ressidence as the Lord of Trebor, Queen Sshallahai alive on the throne with good reasson to be disspleassed with uss, and the Overlordss so far away? We are on our own, and I will not ssee my people bled dry for no benefit to them."


    Uhssu''s claws flexed deeper into the table, "then you know what my responsse must be to that sstatement."


    Lady Ussi didn''t look away, "I know, Branded One. Out of love for you, I give you one chance to walk away. Utsszi is waiting on the other sside of the door. Go with him, and he will ssee you ssafely away."


    Uhssu pulled his claws free of the tabletop. "To my regret, I cannot do that. You sshould have simply had me sslain in my ssleep is you wisshed to sspare me pain."


    Lady Ussi sighed, "Branded One, in this war, there will be no bysstanderss once the fighting beginss. There will be only the ssurvivorss and the dead."


    Uhssu looked down at his claws, "I know thiss. I am willing to die for my cause. Are you?"


    Lady Ussi reached out one hand and cupped Uhssu''s chin, raising his face to look into his eyes, "Branded One, in order to break the chainss, one must ssacrifice everything. That iss ssomething your Overlordss will never undersstand. Farewell, he who wass my sson."


    The thwump of Utsszi''s crossbow was almost silent.


    Uhssu''s eyes had time to shed a single tear of understanding before the life left them.


    <hr>


    Aris Cretu stared at the two envelopes on his official desk. One bore the seal of Queen Shallahai, an official message from the Queen to one of her Lords. The other bore a seal he had never seen before: a serpent eating its tail. Curiosity warred with Duty and lost. The royal messenger was waiting for a response, and the evening tide would wait on no man or elf. Aris opened the letter: The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    <Greetings Lord Aris.>


    <It is with weary hope that We write to you with a request. The Lordship of Cencin county is in dispute. Yarizos Elmid, the last Lord Cencin, has vanished without leaving an heir, and two claimants stand to inherit. On one hand is Aflia Cencin. Her claim by bloodline is beyond question, but she is not Dragonborn, and thus second in line behind any other claimant who is under the law. On the other is one Kratos Elmid, Dragonborn, but born out of wedlock and acknowledged by Yarizos.>


    <Neither has stepped forward to claim the title, each deferring in the other''s favor. That leaves Us with a slight problem, as you can well see, and We must Do Something. Accordingly, We are writing to ask a favor of you. We wish you to play host to a Conference that we will attend on this matter in seven days. We hope that one or both of the claimants can be convinced to step forward to resolve this issue to the satisfaction of all involved. We know Ikin is but a small village, and that the convent is no more. We do not expect luxury, only the sanctity of neutral ground.>


    <We await your response,>


    <Queen Shallahai.>


    There was only one proper answer to this, so Aris set to writing out his acceptance. when it was complete, he sealed it and placed it in the message bag. "Noxxy, can you deliver this to the messenger for me? He needs to depart with the tide, but I''m going to be tied up in paperwork for a while."


    "Mrowl." Sure, what does he look like?


    Aris sent a mental image of the messenger across their link.


    Nox Oncana picked up the message bag in his teeth and bounded out the open window. You owe me a treat for this, you know.


    Obviously! I''ll see about catching a fresh fish for you tomorrow.


    With that task done, and a new chore for tomorrow, Aris opened the second letter. As he unfolded it, a small golden scale slipped free onto the table. He picked it up and held it to the light, studying the milk-white highlights. It held no answers, so he turned to the mysterious letter.


    Aris Cretu,


    I have not met you, but we share a common interest, and now a common foe. I expect, and applaud, your caution, so I propose to meet you at a neutral meeting place of your choosing seven days hence. Have your reply left where this letter was found, and my agents will deliver it to me.


    Lady Ussi.


    Airs Leaned back and exhaled softly. Again, there was only one proper response to this overture of peace. The question was where to host both the Conference and this clandestine meeting. And again, there could only be one answer as both Queen Shallahai and Lady Ussi had requested neutral ground and privacy: The Convent. It was currently being rebuilt, but it was still neutral ground. It was far enough away from Ikin to be secluded, and the workers could be given time off in order to keep them out from underfoot. He only hoped that the meeting would end peacefully.


    <hr>


    Status Report:


    Treasury: 10000 (after a year of living frugally)


    Income: +5 gold per day (semi-retired Agent of Althiem)


    Equipment: In good condition.


    Estates:


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Ikin: Village, Fishing Docks</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Trebor Convent: Under Construction</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Four Empty Holdings (may be improved later)</li>


    </ul>


    The Ring: obsidian band with one carbuncle gem and two empty settings


    Total Deaths:1

 Chapter 35: Counting Barons

    Five days had passed, and Aris was still no closer to knowing what he should do about both of his meetings with ''Lady Ussi'' and Queen Shallahai being in the same place at the same time. Obviously, the two parties shouldn''t come face-to face unexpectedly, as that would have messy consequences. Very messy consequences. But as he watched Queen Shallahai''s ship, the beautiful three-masted galleon Ocean Breeze, approach the dock he did have an inkling of how to proceed.


    As to the Lordship of Cencin, there were some questions he would need to ask of and about Kratos Elmid. if he was unwilling to accept the Lordship of Cencin as a whole, would he instead be willing to be the Mayor of Cencin the city? Which, given that Cencin had no other major holdings, would make him the Grand Mayor of Cencin and a Lord in all but name. Along the same lines, would Aflia want to continue living at the Hokfiin Faalyol house, or even accept the de facto title of Baroness of Hokfiin Faalyol?


    But those were questions for the near future. Aris stepped forward as the Ocean Breeze pressed against the fenders of the dock. There was protocol to be followed even though Queen Shallahai had asked for the minimum of fuss and bother. A Queen does not come and go as they please without some announcement, however quiet it may be. Aris had dispensed with the band and the parade, but had made inquiries with his subjects on how her previous arrivals had progressed. It was this reduced protocol that he now followed. The gangplank hit the dock, and Queen Shallahai appeared at its top. Aris took a deep breath and let it out.


    "Althiem arriving!" He stepped forward to meet Queen Shallahai at the end of the gangplank.


    Queen Shallahai''s face lit with a mildly amused grin. "Thank you, Lord Trebor."


    "Is there anything my Queen needs? Or are you ready to proceed to the convent?"


    "You have it re-built already?"


    "No, my Queen. However, it is under construction, and quarters are available there. They may not be up to the standards of your palace or the convent of old, but you did request private neutral ground, and that is the best such location that I can offer."


    "In this case, that may be all to the good. I could use a proper retreat, and a little austerity will not go amiss."


    "As your majesty wishes."


    A small caravan of people, including royal guardsmen and Lord Wavethunder, had assembled themselves as they spoke. With the destination now decided, they set off.


    <hr>


    The next day, Aris took a moment to sort out his thoughts, then knocked on the office door. "Lord Wavethunder, may I have a moment of your time?"


    Lord Wavethunder was at his desk. A small music player hummed softly in the corner. "Of course Lord Cencin! I always have time for one of my most successful Agents, retired or otherwise."


    "Thank you." Aris carefully shut the door and took a seat. "On the same day that Queen Shallahai''s letter arrived, I also received another one from a lady Ussi asking for a clandestine meeting with me on the same day as Queen Shallahai''s conference. I know of no Lady by that name, and have reason to believe that lady Ussi is neither human, nor elven. Indeed she may be of the same race responsible for the death of the Ironbark Company, the kidnapping of the Princesses, and the attempted assassination of Queen Shallahai"


    Lord Wavethunder sat upright in his chair. "And you agreed to meet this woman? Why?"


    Aris tossed Lady Ussi''s letter and scale onto the desk. "that is what hard evidence I have. That letter was found beneath my office door on the second floor. As to her claim that she and I, and by extension she and Queen Shallahai, share a common foe... I''m inclined to believe her. To confirm that inclination, I do need to meet her, hear what she has to say."The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Lord thunder examined the scale and letter at length. At last he spoke, "walk me through your reasoning. Why do you believe her claim?"


    Aris sat back, "for one, the difference between the attack on the Ironbark Company and the assassination attempt. In particular, the difference in quality of the attacking troops. Ironbark got hit and wiped out inside of fifteen minutes without a scrap of magic being used. The only reason that they lasted that long was the fact that the attackers had to wait for the dead to fall down so that they could get clear shots at the living. I awoke later that same day, and the battlefield had already been picked clean and the animals had begun their work. The attackers in that instance were hardened veterans executing a well-planned ambush.


    "The attack on the convent on the other hand, smacks of amateurism. They had just enough troops for the job if they had the element of surprise on their side and everything went according to plan. The first rule of warfare, as any competent soldier knows, is that no plan survives contact with the foe. They should have brought more troops, and had a plan for what to do if they lost the element of surprise and had to besiege the convent. Instead they stormed the place even after their plans fell to pieces. Only the strength of their individual warriors and the disordered command structure of the Queensguard let them come as close to success as they did.


    "For another, there is the kidnapping of the princesses. I don''t know how many resources that they pooled to make the actual snatch itself, or to transport them to Chedal, but they only had one actual snake-person guarding the princesses. There may have been a second one, to head up the other watch, but I never saw him. That smells of a thin-stretched web of spies using whatever resources are available to hand, not well-trained and well-equipped professionals.


    "Combine the two, and it begins to smell of a hardened ''core'' network, backed by a dispersed web of agents and cells with much more limited resources. The attack on Ironbark was by a cell from the core network, and probably shot that cell''s bolt for some time as they had to pull back under cover and lay low. The Princesses were either passed to one of the dispersed cells, or never got passed back to a core cell, before they were rescued. The attack on the convent was conducted by either one of the larger dispersed cells, or more likely several dispersed cells called up for the occasion, backed by advisers from one of the core cells.


    "Overall, I''m inclined to think that this lady Ussi was a middle manager of some sort of one of the dispersed cells who wants out. Why I don''t know, but she wouldn''t have reached out to me of all people if she knew where I came from."


    Lord Wavethunder folded his fingers in contemplation, "Or lady Ussi may be reaching out to you because she knows who you are. As the Agent responsible for saving both the Princesses and Queen Shallahai, your name carries quite a bit more weight then you may think. If she does want to change sides, then you would be a known person to contact, one with enough influence to see that she wasn''t simply ''vanished'' or killed out of hand. That would be particularly stupid on my part, because it would ensure that there are no more defectors form her faction.


    "If lady Ussi is not set on changing sides, then this may be an attempt to get close to you so that she can kill you. Such a trip would be a one-way affair with a dubious chance of success. And given that this letter was found tucked beneath the door of your office, then they would have had no problem hiding an assassin in that same office to ambush you.


    "Overall, I''m inclined to think that this lady Ussi does want to swap sides. We''ll go ahead with the meeting and scale our ''bribe'' to the value of the information that she can give us."


    Aris nodded, "that was my plan Lord Wavethunder, but I thought it best to seek official approval, if not actual support, before I went forward with it. I expect the Queesguard will have a fit if they encounter lady Ussi''s party unexpectedly. If I make the arrangements for the actual meeting, can you smooth that detail over with them?"


    Lord Wavethunder grinned like a child contemplating a candy store, "deal."


    <hr>


    Status Report:


    Treasury: 10000 (after a year of living frugally)


    Income: +5 gold per day (semi-retired Agent of Althiem)


    Equipment: In good condition.


    Estates:


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Ikin: Village, Fishing Docks</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Trebor Convent: Under Construction</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Four Empty Holdings (may be improved later)</li>


    </ul>


    The Ring: obsidian band with one carbuncle gem and two empty settings


    Total Deaths:1

 Chapter 36: Shadow Kingdoms

    The new day dawns and with it comes two new arrivals to the Convent.


    The merchant Kratos Elmid arrived with only a little fanfare. His brassy scales shone in the breaking dawn, mirrored in the brass-coated breastplates of his four guardsmen and the brass circlet worn by his scribe. Aris could tell that he was not impressed by the development of Trebor Village, but the obvious signs of investment and industry scattered about the Convent pleases him more.


    Aflia Cencin arrives without any fanfare, just a wandering mage walking down the road to an unfamiliar place. She does have her black court dress on, which she smooths and cleans with a whispered word before entering the conference hall. She looks happy to see Aris, but unsure of how things are going to play out. She also looks like something has been eating at her, grinding her down.


    With the first order of business being a (semi)informal breakfast and opportunity for all of the parties to unwind, Aris decides to start the first steps of the diplomatic dance. With a Nod to Lord Wavethunder, he sits down next to Aflia.


    "You look like you swallowed a lemon. What''s bothering you?"


    Aflia sighs, moving food about her plate without eating anything. "Living at Hokfiin Faalyol mostly. Sorting through the records of my father, the mess he left behind. I really don''t want to live there any longer than I have to."


    Aris nodded sympathetically, "and accepting the Lordship of Cencin would lock you into living there?"


    "Yes."


    Aris rubbed his chin and drank some cherrybean tea. "There might be a way out of that, you know."


    Aflia took a small bite of eggs, clearly forcing herself to eat, "Kratos wants nothing to do with that place, and unfortunately for me, I got there first."


    "But isn''t Hokfiin Faalyol primarily a testing ground for the Army and Navy, and a firing range for spellcasters in training? if you turn down the title to that specifically..."


    Afla takes another nibble of food, "and who would want a tiefling as their ruler? I''d be assassinated inside of a month, three at the outside."


    Aris picked up his cup to move on. "you concentrate on eating, I''ll see what I can do about getting you out of this jam. If nothing else, you can always live in Trebor. My court, what little of it there is, is always open to you."


    Afia nodded and nibbled some more. Aris drifted off to find and meet Kratos Elmid. One third of the plan in place... He didn''t have to drift for long, because Kratos was looking to introduce himself.


    "Lord Trebor! Such an interesting man, from what I have heard, and such an astute investment in this place!"


    Aris shook the man''s claw, being careful to avoid the sharp edges. "Rebuilding the reason most people came to Trebor seemed like a good idea to me. I do have a few other ideas stewing about, and a bit of capital to put towards them, but not so much in the way of manpower. What''s this I hear about you being named Lord Cencin?"


    Kratos snorted dismissively, "an honor I''d rather avoid. They mayoral elections for Cencin the city are fierce, and we merchants have our sprawling trade networks to manage as well. Ruling the province would only take me out of that game and leave me weakened."


    Aris sipped cherrybean and pondered this for a moment. "But aside from Hokfiin Faalyol, which as I understand more or less runs itself, isn''t Cencin the city the only holding in Cencin the province? If Aflia took that, would you be more amicable to the Lordship?"


    Kratos snorted again, but also showed a toothy grin, "direct and to the point. I think I like your negotiating style. If the mayor of Cencin was also Lord of Cencin, that would simplify things a fair bit."


    Aris drained his cup as an excuse to drift away, ¡°then perhaps you should look for that to be your goal, instead of avoiding the Lordship all together."


    Kratos sipped from his own cup and left Aris drift away. As Aris moved towards the drink table he nodded at Lord Wavethunder once more. Two thirds in place, now to get Queen Shallahai to play along...Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Lord Wavethinder reached for a muffin and considered Aris out of the corner of his eye. "What plan are you working on here?"


    Aris started to refill his cup, but poured slowly to buy time. "A compromise. Aflia doesn''t want anything to do with the Lordship, but Kratos may be willing to accept a portion of it. Slice off Hokfiin Faalyol, and Kratos would take the title, but I think her majesty could find some suitable strings to attach to future-proof this situation, like tying the title of Lord Cencin to the title of Mayor of Cencin the city."


    Lord Wavethunder chewed a bit of muffin as he mulled things over. "That would create a merchant republic in all but name..."


    Aris nodded, "but Queen Shallahai holds the Duchy of Cencin, as well as the Kingdom, and has enough resources of all types to curb its influence. It would also bring in quite a bit more in taxes for the crown."


    Lord Wavetunder stared at his muffin for a moment, ideas spinning though his head, "it would also increase the reach of Althiem, and turn us into something of a trade-hub for this corner of the world..."


    Aris shrugged, "And give an excuse for an Althiem-flagged ship to appear in just about any port, carrying agents as well as cargo."


    Lord Wavethunder swallowed another bit of muffin. "I think I can sell this Shadow Kingdom approach to Her Majesty, but Hokfiin Faalyol is still a sticking point."


    Aris frowned, "the only way out I can see would be for the Crown, as the master of the Army and Navy and sponsor of the Mage Towers, to take it over. Aflia wants nothing to do with it or the titles that accompany it, so it would revert to the Crown in any case. If nothing else, I have offered her a place in my court, such as it is."


    Something chirped in Lord Wavethunder''s pocket. He extracted a small crystal and glanced at something it projected onto the air before his face. "It looks like lady Ussi has arrived. You go greet her, I''ll handle things with Her Majesty. Good luck."


    Aris drained his cup and left it on the corner of the table before drifting casually out of the room. Two of three, with the third leaning in my favor. I''ll take those odds for the moment.


    <hr>


    Lady Ussi looked over the Convent from the cover of the trees. So many deaths had occurred here, so much blood had soaked the land. Yet this Aris Cretu had simply set about rebuilding, bringing life and purpose back to the area. The Queensguard standing about the place set her nerves on edge however. Then again, they were quite obviously not guarding the worker''s dining hall that Aris had specified in his note agreeing to the meeting. The approach would take longer than she would like, and the risk of complications had gone up. Lady Ussi was considering backing away and trying again when Aris strolled out of a different building and past the Queensguard towards her position along the edge of the forest. He carried no obvious weapons and wore no armor. His demeanor was cautions, but not fearful. Lady Ussi flicked her forked tongue along her lips, then strode forward to reveal herself.


    Aris stopped in his tracks as he got his first look at Lady Ussi. His jaw tightened momentarily as he saw the sun sliding off her scales and the diamond pupils in her eyes. Aris took a breath and then forced himself to relax. "Lady Ussi I presume?"


    Lady Ussi Nodded, "Aris Cretu. Your growing legend precedes you."


    Aris gave a half bow of acknowledgement. "And the actions of your former people precede you as well. Shall we go inside to talk in private?"


    They walked together to the dining hall, where Aris opened to door and gestured for Lady Ussi to precede him inside. When they were seated at the long dining table, Aris asked the first question. "What has driven you away from your superiors to seek refuge with me of all people?"


    Lady Ussi''s tongue flicked nervously. "I see that you have a sharp mind. The Overlords and their Branded have demanded too much of me and my people. I have lost two of my three sons to their works, and I cannot stand by to see more die in a fight that they cannot hope to win. To break my chains, I am willing to sacrifice everything of my own, but I wish better for my people."


    Aris nodded. "I can find no fault with your motivations, but I was expecting a single defector, not a whole family or village. We need a place to hide all of your people before the Overlords bring the hammer down on them for your defection. Ikin is too small, and this Convent too busy, to make do. Given that you came from the woods, I assume that you know them better than I. Can you suggest a place?"


    Lady Ussi''s brow furrowed. "I can think of two, but why are you so eager to help?"


    Aris shrugged, "because I''m the last survivor of Ironbark, and the Branded were responsible for wiping them out. I saw their casual brutality when I rescued the Althiem Princesses and two of my friends from their clutches. Any power that actively encourages that kind of behavior in its agents is one I''m more than willing to oppose."


    Lady Ussi nodded, "We could move to another place in these forests and camp out, or we could try and make our home in the old temple... But the witch living there would almost certainly object. Violently."


    <hr>


    Status Report:


    Treasury: 10000 (after a year of living frugally)


    Income: +5 gold per day (semi-retired Agent of Althiem)


    Equipment: In good condition.


    Estates:


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Ikin: Village, Fishing Docks</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Trebor Convent: Under Construction</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Four Empty Holdings (may be improved later)</li>


    </ul>


    The Ring: obsidian band with one carbuncle gem and two empty settings


    Total Deaths:1

 Chapter 37: Get the Gang Back Together

    Aris leaned back before remembering that he was seated on a bench with nothing to lean back against. "It may be worthwhile to start your people moving already Lady Ussi. I expect it would take them at least a few days to pack up and leave. In the meantime, I''ll gather what few adventurers I can and we''ll look into clearing this Old Temple together. Even If it doesn''t turn out to be a viable place to live permanently, it is probably worth exploring at the very least."


    Lady Ussi flicked her tongue, "A wisse idea. I''ll ssee to getting my people moving, then meet you back here in... three dayss to lead you to the Old Temple."


    Aris stood and offered his hand, "we are agreed then. To a better future, for your people and mine."


    Lady Ussi took his hand tentatively, "Our purposse is united againsst any and all who dare to break it."


    Aris turned to open the door and lead the way out, but Lady Ussi stopped him with a hand on the shoulder. "I do have one question. What wass that ssong in the Old Tongue you ssang a week ago just past ssundown?"


    Aris smiled a sad smile, "The Islander."


    <hr>


    Lord Wavethunder greeted Aris when he re-entered the main meeting area. "Well, I see you are still breathing, so it must have gone well."


    Aris Shrugged, "Both better and worse. It''s not just one defector, it¡¯s a whole village. From the sound of things, lady Ussi thinks she can get them all out, which tells me she already cleared out the Branded representatives of the Overlords, including two of her own sons."


    Lord Wavethunder held up a hand, "slow down man, you skipped over a few things there. A whole village of defectors? Overlords and Branded?"


    Aris scratched the back of his head for a moment. "The Overlords are the heads of the ''core'' network, and from the sound of things it''s more of a cult than anything else. The Branded are the agents they send out, both as spies and to advise their ''dispersed'' cells. Both the snakehead I killed in Chedal and many of the bodies that were examined here were indeed marked by a brand of some sort, acid-burned into their scales or scorched into their flesh, so that part of her story holds up. As for the whole village, I''d guess she was part of a rear-area cell, mostly civilians and artisans, supporting active operations. With at least lady Ussi being disillusioned, and having cleansed the Branded from the ranks of her cell, I think we can count on most of the rest following the same path in time."Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    Lord Wavethunder grimaced, "I can''t argue with more people wanting out from under that kind of theocratic cult, but that is going to complicate things. We''ll need to settle them someplace."


    Aris flicked a hand, "for the short term, lady Ussi has agreed to move them into the woods here in Trebor. They should be self sufficient until we can settle them down permanently and start to integrate them into Altheim society as a whole. That last part will probably take one of your long elven lifetimes, but I can at least get them started. How did the negotiations go so far?"


    Lord Wavethunder shrugged noncommittally, "ongoing, but looking decent. More work for the lawmasters than anything else. I expect the final form of the documents will be worked out by tonight and signed tomorrow. Why?"


    "Because I''d like Aflia''s help with a different matter in a few days. There''s an Old Temple here in the forests of Trebor that, according to lady Ussi, is inhabited by a ¡®witch.¡¯ I intend to recon that temple with her assistance to see if I need to take further action or call in heavier support."


    Lord Wavethunder shrugged, "It''s your ass on the line. If you can wait two days, we can probably get Priestess Little Bird and Acolyte Telena out here as well."


    Aris nodded, "That wouldn''t be a bad idea."


    <hr>


    Status Report:


    Treasury: 10000 (after a year of living frugally)


    Income: +5 gold per day (semi-retired Agent of Althiem)


    Equipment: In good condition.


    Estates:


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Ikin: Village, Fishing Docks</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Trebor Convent: Under Construction</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Four Empty Holdings (may be improved later)</li>


    </ul>


    The Ring: obsidian band with one carbuncle gem and two empty settings


    Total Deaths:1

 Chapter 38: Meet and Greet

    Two Days Later...


    Lady Ussi was still uneasy about being around so many elves, but they had treated her with cautious respect upon her return. A Lord Wavethunder had looked at her searchingly, but she had returned the favor without blinking. Now she was scanning the sky, wondering when Aris'' friends were going to arrive from Alth. Two days wasn''t enough time for them to arrive by sea, so they had to be arriving by air.


    Aris was also waiting for Little Bird and Talae to arrive, but he wasn''t bothering to watch the sky. Instead, he was trying to keep Aflia from collapsing in despair. "Come on, It can''t be that bad. You can always simply abdicate and walk away you know."


    Aflia shrugged, too tired to argue, "Can I? They hung the damn title on me anyway, Baroness of Hokfiin Fayol, and it will follow me wherever I go."


    "Can you put it aside long enough to say hello to Talae and Little Bird? They should be arriving soon, and then I may have something to take you mind off of all of this mess."


    "Is it a cask of Firewine? Because I just want to drink my thoughts away."


    "None of that now. Title or not, You''re still my friend, and I''m not going to let you drink yourself into an early grave." Noxxxy, do you think you can keep her busy for a moment while I check on Ussi?


    As long as she doesn''t blow me up! Nox pounced on Aflia''s tail, batting at it like a toy.


    "What? Argh! Aris, call off your familiar!"


    "There''s the spirit! Noxxy, play nice now. I''ll be back in a moment."


    "ARIS!!!"


    Aris grinned and jogged over to lady Ussi''s side. "I''ve been meaning to ask, do you need any wargear, or are you already equipped?"


    Lady Ussi flicked her tongue, "wargear? Why, are you not going to protect me?"


    Aris snorted, "I''ve no intention of losing you, and that means knowing if I have to watch your back as well as my own. So, do you need anything, or are you ready to go?"


    Lady Ussi shook her head, "I''m all sset, and I can look after myself, or at leasst get out of the way quickly enough. I''ll leaving any fighting to you. But why the wait for this Priestesss Little Bird and Acolyte Talae? Unlesss they can fly, they can''t posssibly get here for another day and a half, if the weather cooperatess."


    The dull thwump of displaced air and static crackle of chained magic announced the arrival of a party by teleportation.


    Aris grinned, "who said anything about flying or sailing? Allow me to make the introductions, just in case though."


    Lady Ussi flicked her tongue, "why?"


    Aris snorted, "do you really want to play a round of ''taunt the Barbarian?'' Or hack off the Cleric who will be responsible for healing you if any harm should befall you?"


    Lady Ussi blinked, "oh."


    Aris! I think Aflia has had enough playing! She''s calling up little balls of fire...Stolen story; please report.


    "Noxxy, that''s enough. We need to greet our guests."


    Aflia trudged over to join Aris and lady Ussi. "Alright, you and your adorable black ball of... vexation got me. Let''s go say hello before I decide between getting drunk and burning something down."


    The three of them rounded the corner into what would eventually be a courtyard. The flagstones were marked in chalk. A temporary rune circle for safe and orderly teleportation dominated the center, along with other mason''s marks for eventual statues and other features. In the middle of the circle Little Bird was flexing her wings experimentally while Talae was busy rubbing her eyes. They both wore practical clothing, which for Little Bird was a tunic cut to accommodate her wings and loose pants, while Talae had on a bear pelt wrap with the ears still attached.


    "Stupid lightning flashes. Don''t they know I''ve a headache?" Talae groused. "Why did we have to ''port today anyway? Why couldn''t we take a boat to see Aris?"


    Little Bird fluffed her wings in frustration, "we didn''t leave earlier because of the ceremony, and your headache is because you insisted on celebrating in your usual manner with no regard to how early we had to get up the next day. Hello Aris, Aflia. This is lady Ussi I presume?"


    Aris nodded, "indeed she is. May I assume Lord Wavethunder briefed you?"


    Talae winced, "yes... but that was before I found the bottom of that mead cask. What''s up?"


    Aris looked at Aflia then back to Talae. "let''s find a table inside so you can get a hangover cure down your throat and I can fill you all in."


    A good thirty minutes of food and explanation later, everyone is almost ready to go. Aflia does butt in with one last question, "why not simply start making a new village from scratch? Why try to clear this Old Temple out at all?"


    Aris shrugs, "it forms a natural place for lady Ussi''s people to begin to build their new homes. It may even still have rooms and roofs for them to live in for a while. And if we can''t clear it, or it''s not in a habitable condition after we do, I can always fund the construction of a new village anyway. It seems like a good idea to at least try.


    Five Hours of walking later¡­


    Aris climbed over yet another log that had fallen across the trail. There was a ridge line ahead, and beyond that the little hidden corner of the forest where the Old Temple was located. Already he could just make out the lines of its tower though the swaying leaves. Suddenly lady Ussi Stopped dead, as though listening to something that only she could hear. "The witch iss nearby, we must be careful. Already I can hear her warningss."


    Aris just shrugged, "I can''t hear anything..." As he crested the ridge, he did start to hear something, like whispers at the far edge of comprehension. "Ok, now I''m hearing something."


    The path continued down between a pair of boulders. a tent was pitched just to one side of the path, and a female figure in robes could be seen pacing back and forth between the boulders.


    Away! Away! There is nothing but danger and despair for you here!


    Aris rubbed his chin speculatively. "I know that voice... Shaman Mul? Is that you?"


    Aw...? Aris? What in the nine hells and seven heavens?


    "Can we come down and talk, Shaman Mul?"


    Come down then, but carefully! The Guardians lurk just past the boulders, and they are deadly indeed. Moving armor and blades with only bones inside. Beyond that, I can ''hear'' face-takers and the hungry dead.


    Once again, time was spent making introductions and hearing explanations. Swapping stories of times gone by. With night approaching, the party elected to bed down for the night and resume in the morning. The Old Temple was clearly guarded well, if the guardians were anything to go by. But it would be silly to come this far and not try at least.


    <hr>


    Status Report:


    Treasury: 10045


    Income: +5 gold per day (semi-retired Agent of Althiem)


    Equipment: In good condition.


    Estates:


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Ikin: Village, Fishing Docks</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Trebor Convent: Under Construction</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Four Empty Holdings (may be improved later)</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">One Old Temple (occupied by ???)</li>


    </ul>


    The Ring: obsidian band with one carbuncle gem and two empty settings.


    Total Deaths: 1

 Chapter 39: Old Temple Entrance

    The party awoke just after the dawn and sorted out their inevitable morning business. Just past the boulders, the sound of creaking metal could be heard as the Guardians twitched in eternal readiness. Aris and Talae led the way, blades out and ready, but as the Guardians made their appearance, Mul struck. A fist of barely visible force crashed into the breastplate of the first Guardian. The metal dented in, and the crack of breaking bones shivered in the air. The Guardian advanced unfazed.


    Aflia struck next, a bolt of flame melting the metal of the first Guardian''s helmet. It ran like melted wax, flowing down over its jawless skull, revealing the aged bone beneath,


    Talae''s war maul crashed into its right leg, tearing it away at the knee.


    The first Guardian fell to its stump before using its one good leg to drive forward into a lunge. Aris took the blow on his own sword and was staggered by the force of the blow.


    The second Guardian ran a gauntlet along its own blade. Sparks lingered along the edges of the blade for a moment before soft blue flames burst into life.


    Aris recovered his stance and slammed his greatsword into the first Guardian''s exposed back. Its armor held, but the sound of breaking bones filled the air, and broken chunks of bone rattles as the first Guardian came to its knees once more.


    Little Bird took to the air seeking a flank to strike from.


    Lady Ussi hung back, keeping close to the boulders in case she had to run.


    Mul pulled her battleaxe from nothingness with an arcane gesture and a muttered word. She brought it around in a low arc, aiming for the knee of the first Guardian. The strike crunched home and spilled the first Guardian in the dirt.


    Aflia flung a dart of ice at the second Guardian, who batted it casually aside with is blade in a puff of steam.


    Talae hauled back and brought her warmaul down in an overhead arc onto the skull of the first Guardian. It exploded in a shower of metal splinters and powdered bone, marking the end of the undead being.


    The second Guardian advanced, unperturbed by the death of its compatriot. It brought its sword around in a looping arc, prompting Talae to duck out of the way. The flames lingered behind the blade, scorching the ends of her white hair.


    Aris lunged forward, but his blade scraped off the second Guardian''s breastplate with the screech of steel-on-steel.


    Little Bird landed behind the second guardian, but her mace made no more of an impact then Airs'' blow.


    Lady Ussi held her ground, unsure what to make of the explosion of violence before her, or the unmaking of a thing older than she can guess.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Mul tried again with the force-blast, and again dented the breastplate of the second guardian to little effect.


    Aflia launched a second firebolt, melting a hole through the breastplate out out the back of the second Guardian. Little Bird squawked indignantly as she avoided the resulting spray of flame and molten steel. A hissing yelp sounded from further down the path as another creature was less fortunate. The second Guardian staggered back a half step with the impact.


    Talae hauled her warmaul back out of the dirt, reading herself to resume the attack.


    The second Guardian recovered its stance and swiped at Talae again. This time she blocked the burning blade with the haft of her warmaul. Metal met wood and stuck fast, locking the two combatants together.


    Two malformed humanoid creatures ran down the path. One was scorched by Aflia''s shoot-through. Both yipped and yowled in anger as they closed the distance.


    Aris took advantage of the second Guardian''s predicament to slam his greatsword into the thing''s neck between breastplate and helm. The helm and skull fell away into the grass at the side of the path. The torso fell forward, snapping the sword it still held in half. The resulting release of magic was enough to throw both Talae and Aris off balance.


    Little Bird turned about to face the new abominations as they approached, and managed to swipe the injured one across the face with a glancing blow.


    Mul followed up with another force blast on the same target. The resultant crunch of bone and spray of blood as the thing''s head snapped back violently heralded its death as surely as its abrupt fall to the ground and erratic twitching.


    Aflia called forth a spike of ice and sent it hurtling into the second thing''s chest. It stopped in its tracks with a recognizable mixture of surprise and hate on its face before collapsing to its knees.


    Little Bird smote it upside the head with her mace, but that only knocked the still-warm corpse to the side of the path. As the party regathered itself, questions and investigations abounded.


    Aris re-sheathed his greatsword and went looking for the second Guardian''s skull to crush it. "Mul, what in the blazes were those abominations?"


    Mull vanished her battleaxe before answering, "face-takers. they eat the dead, and then take on their features."


    Lady Ussi came forward and claimed the first Guardian''s sword. "Doess anyone object to me taking thiss? I think I''m going to need more than my fangss if thiss fight wass anything to go by..."


    Talae shrugged, "go on ahead. That toothpick would probably break if I swung it too hard."


    Little Bird looked over the party, "Anyone hurt? Need healing? No? Thank Kuko."


    Aflia Looked at Mul, "where did you get that battleaxe? And where did it go?"


    Mul shrugged and walked towards the great wooden doors to the Old Temple itself. "I made it myself, and I keep it in the places between reality when it''s not needed. Are we ready to go forward?"


    <hr>


    Status Report:


    Treasury: 10050


    Income: +5 gold per day (semi-retired Agent of Althiem)


    Equipment: In good condition.


    Estates:


    Ikin: Village, Fishing Docks


    Trebor Convent: Under Construction


    Four Empty Holdings (may be improved later)


    One Old Temple (occupied by ???)


    The Ring: obsidian band with one carbuncle gem and two empty settings.


    Total Deaths: 1

 Chapter 40: Old Temple First Floor

    Aris was almost disappointed in the entryway. It was a plain room with three normal sized doors, one in each wall. A moldy and rotten rug covered the center of the floor, and the remains of a wooden chair and coat-rack in little better condition littered one corner. The room to the right was a store room in better times, containing only the rotted and rusted remains of a few barrels. the room to the left was a servant''s stairway and freight elevator, presumably for moving the barrels and their contents to the levels above.


    The central room was much more ominous. Five more doors dotted its circular walls, and six more decrepit rugs were scattered about the floor. A spiral staircase pierced the middle of the space, climbing up and down through the center of the Old Temple. A burned skeleton lay in the open. A cracked and crumbled bit of stone was clenched in one outstretched fist, and the floor about where it lay was charred black, the flagstones cracked by the heat. The whole party froze, staring at the ruined remains.


    Aris spoke first, "Mul, can you ''hear'' anything near us? Anything that could be responsible for this?"


    "Hrm... More hungry dead and face-takers below us, nothing above. But I cannot ''hear'' mindless things, like the Guardians, so there may well be more."


    Aflia knelt down near the corpse and dragged a finger through the dust. "Ash underneath plain old dust. Whomever this was, she was killed some time ago. There''s not enough left to tell much, aside from the fact that she didn''t have tusks or fangs, so probably a human or elf."Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    Lady Ussi knelt across from Aflia, "not a Silithid priest, that''s for sure. The ones I knew were all more... deformed than this. Probably human though, the bones are thicker then I''d expect from elves."


    Talae looked uncomfortable, "you mentioned the priests would be deformed. How?"


    Lady Ussi flicked her tongue, "They would seek to appear more like their god or goddess, so more and more serpentine in appearance. I''d expect a lesser priest to have more than just fangs and scales, they would have an extra pair of arms, or slither about on a serpentine tail. Upper priests and true Clerics would have both, and sometimes more."


    Little Bird flexed her wings, "We need to keep pushing forwards if we want to re-sanctify this place. I can feel something... unhallowed lurking in the stones."


    <hr>


    Status Report:


    Treasury: 10050


    Income: +5 gold per day (semi-retired Agent of Althiem)


    Equipment: In good condition.


    Estates:


    Ikin: Village, Fishing Docks


    Trebor Convent: Under Construction


    Four Empty Holdings (may be improved later)


    One Old Temple (occupied by ???)


    The Ring: obsidian band with one carbuncle gem and two empty settings.


    Total Deaths: 1

 Chapter 41: Old Temple Upper Levels

    Aris looked about to the five other doors that they had yet to open, and the rooms beyond that they had to explore. "We''ll clear this floor, then move upwards to the roof. Let''s stay together, just in case."


    The remaining five rooms on the first floor were of little interest. A storage closet full of what was once cleaning supplies tucked next to a pair of bathrooms with shower stalls. Two dorm rooms with bunk beds. A communal kitchen, its hearth long cold. A common eating space, with an intact trestle table and two benches. All in all, the living spaces of low-ranking acolytes or servants. There were no more bodies, living, dead, or undead. Indeed there was no evidence of occupation for quite some time. the way the dressers were left open and the beds unmade indicated a rapid departure by whatever occupants had once lived in the dorms.


    The party proceed up the central staircase to the second floor. They emerged into a dining room that was perhaps elegant in its heyday. Two long tables were covered with the tattered scraps of tablecloths, and a third along the curved wall was stained with fat and blood from being used as a carving table and scorched by over-heated warming dishes. Of the four doors leading off of the central room, one led to another kitchen. Much larger than the one on the first floor, this one was obviously intended to serve the main dining hall at capacity when needed. A second door led to a set of bathrooms, while the third led to a sitting room with the scraps of two overstuffed chairs long inhabited by mice and an empty bookshelf. The fourth led to a small facilities area, including a ladder locked behind a gate in a protrusion beyond the outer wall of the Old Temple. Talae easily broke the lock and looked up the ladder.


    "Looks like it goes to the roof, probably to patch leaks and the like. Let''s clear the inside of this place first, and then check it out on our way back down."


    The central stair let out onto a small circular alcove on the third floor. Two of the four exits led into lavish bathrooms with individual showers. The third lead to a store room with some barrels and storage space for cleaning supplies and other odds and ends. The fourth led into the shrine itself. Two abbreviated rows of pews flanked the walls before the altar, and the shattered frames of two stained-glass windows allowed sunlight to flood into the room. Little Bird immediately set about searching the room and the altar, but sighed and abandoned her search after only a short time.


    "This isn''t the source of the unhallowed nature of this place. There is no idol or other icon of faith to act as the focus for such an enchantment, only the rotted remains of a book of scripture. No way to know which god or goddess either, the title and cover is too ruined for that. I could use this place to try and consecrate this Temple in the name of Kuko, but I''d want to fix the windows first, at least. Plus break or unmake whatever is actually the source of the unhallowing."


    Aris nodded. "upwards once more then, before we double back and check the roof."


    The central stair ended at the fourth and final floor, emerging into the center of the remains of an elegant common room. A fireplace was tucked into one corner, the remains of a set of gaming tables were stacked in another. Dragonchess pieces were scattered about the floor, the white ivory ones now yellowed with age, and the ebony wood of the black pieces little more than piles of rot. Two of the three doors lead into to elegant bed chambers, complete with the moldy remains of canopy beds, ornately carved bedside tables, and empty dressers. The third bed chamber was much the same, but for a single disturbing addition. In the center of the bed was a complete skeleton in repose. A golden, gilded collar was set about its neck, and a matching shackle leashed one of its ankles to a bedpost, leaving just enough slack for the bound person to walk about the room, but not to leave it.


    Aflia immediately wretched her breakfast into a corner. "A tiefling, enslaved as a sex toy and left to starve when everyone else fled. Gods, what other atrocities will we find here..."


    Aris held up a hand to the rest of the party, "Wait in the common room. We''ll be along shortly."


    Everyone else filed out quietly, leaving Aris and Aflia alone. Aflia continued to wretch, tears pouring down her face. "What more hope do I have then she ever did? Chained by duty and scorn, shamed into acting a role not of our own choosing."


    Aris reached out a tentative hand, resting it on Aflia''s shoulder. "You have what choices you chose to make."


    "And what do you mean by that meaningless drivel?"


    "Are you going to let the label of tiefling be a dagger in your heart, or are you going to claim it for yourself, make it a part of who you are? Wear it as a piece of your armor, that others cannot turn it against you?"


    "Wha... sniffle what do you want me to do?"


    "What I want doesn''t really matter, does it? What matters is what you decide to do."


    "You.. hic You said a part of my armor. What else do I have? What else am I?"


    "Oh, I don''t know, a self-taught dragon-blooded sorceress? Did you ever look into what that might mean for you, besides a few scales?"This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    "No... Not really..."


    "Well then, when we get out of here, why don''t you do that?"


    "Heh... Is that a request?"


    "No, only advice from one friend to another."


    "I think I might do that then..."


    Aris took his hand back. "Once we check the roof, we''ll be more than halfway done with this place. Think you can keep going? Or should we call it quits?"


    Aflia smacked Aris on the shoulder, "I''m game if you are friend. And once we are done here, I''m going to hold you to your offer of a place to live. Shallahai can keep her damn title."


    The party regrouped in the common room, and headed down the stairs to the second floor. form there, they filed up the ladder one by one. The roof proved to be flat, circled by a shallow lip to collect rain pierced by gutters to drain it away. Chimneys from the fireplaces below poked through around the edges. In the center of the space was a circular raised area, free of all protrusions, clearly intended for some sort of ritual. Four low mounds rested in the center of the area. The smallest in the center looked like a small pile of ashes, while the other three, ringed about it in a triangle, were neatly stacked sets of yellowed bones surmounted by inhuman, serpentine skulls the size of a man''s torso. Nothing moved until lady Ussi approached closer to examine the skulls.


    Three ringing chimes rent the silence. The skulls rose upwards, the bones arranging themselves beneath into bodies. In a matter of frozen moments, three complete bodies rose above the circle. Each was seven foot high at the shoulder and rested on the coiled remains of serpentine tails. As they turned to face the party directly, more details became apparent. The one on the left had four arms, each ending in taloned hands. The one on the right had clattering skeletal serpents for hair. Laid flat, they stretched halfway down its back, but some of them curled up and moved of their own accord. The one in the middle spread its arms wide, followed by the bony remains of wings. green fire glowed in six skeletal eye sockets, and bony jaws clacked up and down.


    Mul summoned her battleaxe, but rested the but on the ground in readyness, "The bones of Heralds, moving once more."


    Lady Ussi stared upwards in awe, "I know these forms from the oldest carvings. Denedar, Merrsshulk, and Sslyeth. Divines of the Silithid Empire, before the Day of Reckoning at Alexandria."


    Talae clenched her warmaul tighter, "are we running, or are we fighting? I don''t think they can talk without tongues..."


    The winged Herald held up one hand, as if asking for a moment. Silver-green energy gathered about its throat and jaws, cladding the bones in ghostly flesh. "An Unbound sstandss before uss brotherss, asking neither benediction nor condemnation. Ssuch hass not happened in many, many yearss. What are we to make of thiss?"


    The serpent-haired Herald reached up to sooth the serpents coiling protectively about its throat, "perhapss we should assk it itss intentionss Sslyeth. After all, not all of our children follow uss ass a trinity any more."


    The four-armed Herald crossed both sets of arms across its chest, "and it comess with a Sson of Ironbark at itss back. Perhaps it iss not a child of ourss at all Merrsshulk, but a bastard by-blow come to finissh what Ironbark and their ilk began sso long ago."


    Sslyeth flexed his wings slowly, "I find mysself in agreement with Merrsshulk. What have you to ssay for yoursself little Unbound?"


    Lady Ussi gulped and doubt made her voice waiver, "I... we... thought you dead, laid low with Alexandria. The Branded still claim to speak with your voices, but..."


    Denedar uncrossed his four arms and brushed away an invisible fly from the air, "Thosse zealotss do not sspeak with Our Voicess, whatever they might claim. And I can ssee from how you sstand that you have broken with them, body and mind. Perhapss we have found a champion after all brotherss. It even carriess the fallen blade of one of our Guardianss."


    Merrsshulk''s hair uncoiled itself from about his throat, and he slouched lower, looking Lady Ussi in the eyes, "Hmm, perhapss. It hass a certain sstrength of sspirit and will. What ssay you, Sslyeth?"


    Sslyeth flexed one wing, "I will agree, if the Unbound agreess ass well. It iss time that we sstarted to sseep back through the crackss, but I will not have any but a willing champion. We must not repeat the mistakess of Alexandria."


    Lady Ussi drew a deep breath, doubt vanishing before certain purpose. "If it means that my people will live free of the tyranny of the Branded, then I agree."


    Denedar nodded, "then sstep forward to sstand between uss, Unbound, and receive our blesssing that you may go forth ass our Champion."


    Ussi the Unbound stepped forward to stand atop the pile of ashes between the three Heralds. Each in turn placed a skeletal hand atop her head. In one three-layered voice, they intoned an ancient right. "Witnesssed by the Blood of the Dragon, by the Voice of the Outssider, by the Flame in the Dark, by the Breeze in the Ssky, and by the Keeper of Lore we make thiss oath to you Ussi the Unbound: sso long ass you sstand by, for, and with the Light, We will sstand with you."


    Lady Ussi spoke in turn, her voice echoing a power beyond the mortal ken, "By my actss, I will kindle the Light in otherss. With the sstrength of my armss, I will sshelter the Light from those who sseek to ssnuff it out. By the sstrength of my will, I will tend the Light in my ssoul. By the sstrength of my sspirit, I will be a beacon of Light that otherss might follow."


    "Then on thiss day, in the ssight of thesse witnesssess, Ussi the Unbound iss no more. Risse, Lady Ussi of the Light, and go forth with our Blesssing."


    There was a blinding glow of light. When it faded, the skeletal Heralds were no more then dust scattered on the wind.


    <hr>


    Status Report:


    Treasury: 10050


    Income: +5 gold per day (semi-retired Agent of Althiem)


    Equipment: In good condition.


    Estates:


    Ikin: Village, Fishing Docks


    Trebor Convent: Under Construction


    Four Empty Holdings (may be improved later)


    One Old Temple (occupied by ???)


    The Ring: obsidian band with one carbuncle gem and two empty settings.


    Total Deaths: 1

 Chapter 42: Old Temple Basement

    Aflia looked about in confusion. "Where did the Heralds go? What just happened?"


    Lady Ussi shook the ashes from her shoes before replying, "The boness of the Heraldss were allowed to crumble to dust now that their tassk is done. And I am now Ssworn to sserve the Light."


    Aflia put her face in her hands, "in non-priest speak, please?"


    Little Bird bobbed her head, "The Heralds are no more, and Lady Ussi is now a Paladin."


    Aflia and Talae stared at Lady Ussi suspiciously. Talae spoke first, "So are you one of those smite first and ask questions later Paladins? Because If you are, then we''re probably going to have problems..."


    Lady Ussi shrugged, "No. Not unlesss you start unleasshing plaguess or ssummoning demonss. And before you even assk, tieflingss and drow don''t count as demonss."


    Little Bird scratched the side of her beak, "Anyone else know what the Heralds said there at the end? I got the sense that it was important, But I couldn''t make heads nor tail feathers of it."


    Lady Ussi furrowed her brow, "Wass that in Primordial? It felt like it wass in Primordial. When did I learn to sspeak that ancient language?"


    Mul rubbed her chin, "Probably when the Heralds blessed you. And you didn''t go mad like I did, which is always an upside."


    Aflia shook her head and flicked a hand in a ''throwing away'' gesture, "questions of sanity aside, what did they say? Mul, can you translate?"


    Mul closed her eyes, rolling words back through her mind, "The first bit was ''Witnessed by the Blood of the Dragon, by the Voice of the Outsider, by the Flame in the Dark, by the Breeze in the Sky, and by the Keeper of Lore we make this oath to you Ussi the Unbound: so long as you stand by, for, and with the Light, We will stand with you.'' Lady Ussi Spoke next, and the Heralds replied with ''Then on this day, in the sight of these witnesses, Ussi the Unbound is no more. Rise, Lady Ussi of the Light, and go forth with our Blessing.'' "


    Aflia staggered back as if drunk before sitting down, "Titles. They gave each of us a Title. Blood of the Dragon... Where have I heard them before? Muldruck''s Oaths? No, no, not there. Casteline''s Prophecies? The third volume was missing some pages, but I think only Blood of the Dragon was mentioned... Ilelahne''s Days of Falling Skies! That was it! But the copy in the Althiem Library was damaged and incomplete, and I can''t think of another copy anywhere."


    Aris raised one eyebrow, "Ilelahne? As in Lady Ilelahne SiDabolo? Why don''t we send a letter to her and ask if she has a copy?"


    Lady Ussi flinched, "You know the SsiDaboloss?"


    Aris rolled his eyes, "I''m getting awful tired about hearing everyone flinch at the mere mention of the SiDabolos. Can someone fill me in on what exactly they did to be regarded with such fear?"


    Lady Ussi blinked slowly, then blinked again, "The taless are far too long to tell here, but it comess down to Aemon SsiDabolo. Titless asside, we ssilithidss remember him ass the Mage who Called Down the Ssky. He wass the architect of Armageddon Reef."


    Aris rubbed the back of his neck, "so pissing off the SiDabolos is a great way to call down the undivided attention and vengeance of one of the most powerful mages in existence, plus whichever family members you happened to annoy. Good to know, I''ll keep that in mind. Are we still going to try to clear the basement out, or are we going to head home?"


    Mul ran a tusk over her lip, "let''s at least clear the basement. I should be able to ''hear'' a little deeper from down there. And if Lady Ussi can Detect Unholy, then she could pick up on any mindless undead that I can''t ''hear.'' "This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    Aris nodded. "That sounds like a plan then."


    The Party made its way back down to the first floor of the Old Temple, but Aris could already hear the scrape-thump scrape-thump of dragging footsteps. As they descended into the basement, three ghouls shambled out from an empty door frame towards the party.


    Aris cleared the stairway and drew his greatsword, but didn''t charge forward unsupported.


    Mul was right behind him, and she lashed out with a force blast as she moved aside. One of the ghouls staggered, but didn''t show any signs of taking any damage.


    Talae cleared the stairs and readied her warmaul, but eyed the floor and walls carefully. "Something feels off about this room. Be careful of traps."


    The ghouls staggered forwards another few steps, their empty hands reaching out to grasp at the food just beyond their reach. One of the stones beneath their feet sinks down ever so slightly with a subtle click. Choking gas filled the area near the door frame, shielding the ghouls from sight.


    Little Bird flapped her wings in an attempt to push the gas away, "that being one of them?"


    Talae nodded, "and whatever that gas is, it doesn''t affect undead, or those ghouls wouldn''t have made any effort to lure us into it."


    Lady Ussi hung back on the stairs. Paladin or no, she wasn''t armored or particularly well armed, and she knew it.


    Aris held his ground.


    Mul fired another force blast blindly into the gas.


    Talae just balanced her warmaul on her shoulder to wait.


    The ghouls quickly figured out that their foes weren''t dumb enough to charge forward blindly, so they lunged out of the gas to attack.


    Little Bird responded by shrouding one of them in radiant flames. The ghoul, already weakened by a force blast impact, shrieked in pain as it crumbled to ash.


    Lady Ussi called out a warning as three more ghouls shambled rather more quickly through the other open doorway into the central room.


    Aris stepped forward and slammed his greatsword into one of the two original ghouls, leaving it torn in half.


    Mul called up her battleaxe and matched Aris'' strike, ending the first wave of foes.


    Talae turned to meet the next wave, her warmaul sounding like an ax splitting logs as she crushed one of the oncoming foes.


    The two remaining ghouls grasped at her, their hands glowing a dull blue as whatever magic animated them tried to sap Talae''s life and strength away.


    Little Bird leapt to her acolyte''s aid, slapping her mace into the face of one of the ghouls. it recoiled, but it only turned to meet its new opponent.


    Lady Ussi readied her pilfered sword, running her hand along the blade. It burst into flame, casting a little more light onto the room.


    Aris turned, stepped forward, and lunged his greatsword over Talae''s shoulder into the head of the ghoul still grasping at her arms. It shuddered and fell away with a sickening schulping sound.


    Mul placed a force blast into the last ghoul, driving its ribs out through its back.


    With time to catch its breath, the party regathered itself. The room was rank with the stink of freshly re-killed undead. Aris opened his mouth to ask a question, but Mul held up a hand for silence. "I can ''hear'' at least another dozen hungry dead and six or more face-takers on the floor below us. Can you concentrate Lady Ussi? What do your senses tell you about the mindless ones below us?"


    Lady Ussi closed her eyes and murmured what sounded like a hopeful prayer. When she opened them, they glowed faintly in the flickering light from her blade. She looked up, then down, then about the room, "Iss thiss what you magess ssee when you Detect Magic then? I can ssee faint glowing outliness through the wallss, but not too far away. There are the dozen ghoulss Mul mentioned, and ass many sskeletonss besides. I don''t know if they are Guardianss, like out front, or just moving boness. Below them iss a blank sspace, probably a floor, and beyond more moving outliness. Dozenss of them. Two just appeared, walking up a sstair one after the other, sso there is at least a third floor below uss. And the outliness are fading and appearing along the length of the floor ass well, meaning that each sstretches farther then I can ssee."


    Talae groaned, shaking the unnatural chill from her arms, "Do we really want to try this? Or can we come back later with a few squads of soldiers to back us up?"


    <hr>


    Status Report:


    Treasury: 10050


    Income: +5 gold per day (semi-retired Agent of Althiem)


    Equipment: In good condition.


    Estates:


    Ikin: Village, Fishing Docks


    Trebor Convent: Under Construction


    Four Empty Holdings (may be improved later)


    One Old Temple (occupied by ???)


    The Ring: obsidian band with one carbuncle gem and two empty settings.


    Total Deaths: 1

 Chapter 43: Old Temple Lower Level 1

    Aris ground his teeth together for a moment. "I think we do need to go at least a little deeper. If for no other reason then to see if there is a better place to seal these undead off so we can leave without letting them loose."


    Talae flexed her hands and arms, forcing feeling back into them, "One floor only then. I don''t know if I can take another hit like that. I''m healthy, but getting paralyzed in the middle of a fight like that could have killed me if you hadn''t saved my ass."


    Aris cleaned the undead grime off of his blade, "One floor only, and we pull out fast if we start getting overwhelmed. I''ve already died once and have no desire to repeat that experience."


    "Mrowl?" But you are not undead...?


    "Sorry Noxxy, story time later. Mul and Lady Ussi probably want to hear it too, but there isn''t time at the moment."


    The party headed down the short flight of stars and found themselves in a wine cellar. Empty floor to ceiling racks covered three of the walls, with the occasional empty bottle tucked guiltily in an ankle high spot. The remnants of a concealed door filled the fourth wall. The concealing section of wine rack was smashed, and the stonework facade had fallen away from the rotted wooden backing. One of the hinges squealed loudly in protest as Aris pushed the door open.


    Lady Ussi''s burning blade illuminated to room beyond, and it was a sight to behold indeed. A feast hall stretch out before the party, the high table sill draped in a ragged red table cloth and set with tarnished pewter silverware, the rough wooden common tables still covered in steins and mugs. Two doors were set into the side walls, one on each side, and the far side of the hall fell away into an underground statue garden.


    As the door thumped against the wall, a spear thudded into the ground in front of Aris, another trap triggered by incautious action and avoided by luck. Glowstone torches set into the walls flickered to life as the party stepped cautiously forward into the hall. They stretched off into the statue garden, racing about its edges and casting eerie beams up to illuminate the four statues from below. As the glowstone torches began to cast light into the shadowed hallway at the far end of the statue garden, the screeching began. An unholy mixture of high, piercing keening from the face-takers as their eyes were suddenly exposed to bright light and the low, groaning moans of ghouls stirred to hungry action at the presence of prey.


    Aris and Mul shared a look of grim determination. It was the Stand at the Ironbark Outpost all over again, and this time the foe would not falter or break. Aris set his shoulder to the underside of the high table and overturned it, heedless of the noise he was making. Talae quickly rallied and manned the makeshift barricade, while Aflia, Little Bird, and Lady Ussi ranged themselves to the rear and sides, looking for openings to use their abilities.


    The first wave of foes to appear were the face-takers. Faster moving then the ghouls and enraged beyond all reason, they threw themselves forward in an unorganized mob, hooked claws poised to rend and tear.


    Mul''s force blast and Aflia''s Fire Bolt picked off two of the twelve as they came hurtling forward, but the survivors just ran right over the still twitching bodies. Aris slammed his greatsword into the belly of a third, and Lady Ussi Surged forwards to behead a fourth with prayers on her lips. Talae cut loose, her warmaul squelching through the chest of a fifth face-taker. Little Bird pulled the trap-flung spear from the ground and stabbed over Lady Ussi''s shoulder to bolster the flank. She didn''t kill any foes, but she did force the face-takers to flinch back for the barest of instants.


    The remaining seven face-takers screeched out their hatred as they tried to press their attack home. Claws scraped off of Aris'' armor, trying to find any seam or crevice to hook into. Talae roared in anger as her bear pelt was torn away by one blow, and then in Rage as one strike found her unprotected flesh.


    The ghouls began to shamble into the feast hall through the side doors, pressing in close to the face-taker''s heels.


    Mul called forth her battleaxe and chopped into a sixth face-taker, laying it low with a broken spine and spilled, ruptured intestines. Aflia stepped to the side and send a gout of fire arching into the packed horde of foes. A seventh and eighth face-taker and a ghoul were roasted extra-crispy, the stench of burning flesh fouling the air. Aris cut down a ninth face-taker. Lady Ussi smote a second ghoul trying to come around the edge of the barricade, her flaming blade making short work of its outreaching hands. Talae shouted her defiance to the world and Raged through a tenth face-taker. It fell back with her warmaul embedded in its spine, leaving Talae weaponless. Talae didn''t seem to notice, or even care. Little Bird''s spear found the chest of a third ghoul, but she managed to keep hold of it when the body fell away.


    The remaining two face-takers, smelling blood and thinking that they had found an easy target at last, hurled themselves at Talae. She quickly corrected their mistake by grabbing one by the skull with one hand, lifting it off the ground, and cracking its body like a whip before throwing the corpse into the face of its companion. When the last surviving face-taker fell helpless to the ground, pinned beneath the dead and boneless body of its erstwhile ally, Aris took the chance to sever its head from its shoulders.


    Three of the ghouls, overcome by flesh-hunger, began to devour the fallen bodies of the face-takers. The rest tried to press the attack, and found Talae the most obvious and attractive target. The smell of her fresh blood calling to them like a siren''s deadly song. She took several more hits, but shrugged off the fresh injuries heaped upon her frame.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    The skeletons appeared at the far edge of the statue garden. They were not the full-armored forms of the Guardians form the entrance, but they moved as a cohesive unit and formed up unto an abbreviated assault column. Three with heavy tower shields formed the front rank with their spear-carrying companions taking shelter behind their protection.


    Mul chopped her battleaxe through one of the ghouls threatening Talae, making a fourth ghoul corpse on the floor. Aflia called up another gout of flame and incinerated the three feasting ghouls while they were occupied. Aris stabbed an eighth ghoul through the back of the head, his greatsword protruding from its mouth like a steel tongue, before the ghoul fell to the ground in two pieces. Lady Ussi carved up the ninth ghoul as it tried to claw its way over the bodies in its path. Little Bird took a step back from the fray and sent a Cure Wounds spell into Talae, helping to stem the blood pouring from her many wounds.


    The three remaining ghouls made passes at Talae, but she either dodged or ignored their strikes.


    The skeleton soldiers continued their march across the statue garden, passing right between the statues.


    Mul tossed a force blast at one of the shield-bearers, but it shrugged off the blow without breaking stride. Aflia sent a spike of ice hissing in their direction, and watched it chock into the left eye socket of a shield bearer with satisfaction. Her satisfaction turned to disbelief when her intended victim didn''t break stride despite the fresh fractures stretched across is skull. Aris finished off one of the remaining ghouls by chopping it in half through the torso. Talae seized the head of another ghoul and smashed it against her knee, heedless of its futile, flailing strikes. Lady Ussi calmly beheaded the last ghoul. Little Bird sent another Cure Wounds into Talae, keeping her on her feet.


    The skeleton soldiers continued their unhurried approach, stepping calmly over the burnt and rent bodies before the barricade.


    Mul didn''t wait for them to launch a unified attack. Shouting "UR-HANDER!", she vaulted the barricade and slammed her shoulder into the leftmost shield-bearing skeleton. Aflia gave up on calling forth a third gout of flame and instead sent a Fire Bolt into the ribs of one of the spear-wielders. Something cracked and shattered under the impact, and it fell to the ground in a pile of bones and stopped moving. Aris followed Mul over the barricade with an "AILAILAILAILAI" warcry. His greatsword deflected a thrusting spear, he smashed the center shield-skeleton back a half-step with the force of his charge, breaking the line. Talae ripped her warmaul from the corpse that held it upright and charged into the gap that Airs had opened. She managed to trample the central shield-skeleton with her rush, and her warmaul neatly crushed the skull of the right-hand shield-skeleton in passing. Lady Ussi surged over to Mul''s aid, double teaming the remaining shield-carrier. It managed to keep its shield between itself and all of the blows, but it was clearly beginning to feel the impacts as bone dust ground away from its joints and hands. Little Bird dropped her spear and drew her mace, the better to crush bones with.


    The one remaining shield-skeleton slammed its tower-shield forward, staggering Mul. It spear-carrying brethren level their weapons and drove them forward at the closest foe. lady Ussi ducked under one, Mull took a second of the flat of her battleaxe''s blade, Aris angled his armor and deflected a further three, and Talae managed to twist away from or block the last three.


    Mul slammed her battleaxe into the tower shield in front of her, ripping it down and sideways. Aflia took advantage of the opening and put a Fire Bolt into the gap, felling the last of the shield-skeletons. Aris followed Talae deeper into the broken ranks of the skeletons, hewing down a second spear-wielder and sending its vertebrae and ribs to rattle off of the walls. Talae crushed a third spear-skeleton, her blow making a dent in the floor after meeting her target''s totally insufficient block and torso. Lady Ussi impaled a fourth spear-carrier''s skull, and Little Bird Shattered a fifth''s rib-cage.


    The last four skeletons readied their spears and tried again to hurt their foes. Lady Ussi deflected one, Mul ducked a second, and Aris blocked the third and fourth drill-field metronome stabs.


    Mul shattered one of the skeletons with a point-blank force blast, and Aflia was clear to turn the last three to charred ash with a final gout of flames.


    Talae collapsed to one knee, leaning against the haft of her warmaul, and Little Bird hurried over to pour more healing spells into her acolyte.


    Mul flared her nostrils, sill seeking foes. When none appeared, she banished her battleaxe and looked across the carnage, "I think that is all of them from this level. And the way further down must be blocked off, else we would have pulled more with the sounds of fighting."


    Aris pulled off his helm and mopped his brow, "So this level is clear of foes and can be explored in relative safety. But there are the traps to consider, as well as our health. I don''t dare split the party, so we need to either clear this entire level of traps before we loot it, or fall back and regroup. Lady Ussi, I''m sorry to say it but I don''t think this Old Temple will be a suitable place for your people."


    Lady Ussi nodded, "A new village would be a ssign of rebirth and renewed hope. Better that than clinging to the ashess of a dead Empire in this place. Little Bird, how iss Talae? Will we need to carry her out of here?"


    Talae growled in frustration before dragging herself back to her feet, "I can keep going for the rest of this floor if need be." She spat at her bear Pelt, now rent, torn, and stained with blood and ash, "but I''m going to need a new dress before we make our reports."


    Little Bird let out a long sigh as she wiped blood from her talons, "I''m about out of healing spells for the day, but Only Talae was hurt in that fight, so I think I can stretch what I have left if I have to."


    Aris sucked air through his teeth, realizing everyone was waiting on his decision...


    <hr>


    Status Report:


    Treasury: 10050


    Income: +5 gold per day (semi-retired Agent of Althiem)


    Equipment: In good condition.


    Estates:


    Ikin: Village, Fishing Docks


    Trebor Convent: Under Construction


    Four Empty Holdings (may be improved later)


    One Old Temple (occupied by ???)


    The Ring: obsidian band with one carbuncle gem and two empty settings.


    Total Deaths: 1

 Chapter 44: Trapsweeper

    Aris exhaled slowly, "I think we can clear this level if we take it carefully. We stick together, we go no deeper, and we fall back if we get into another fight. We still don''t know in whose name this temple was Unhallowed. So we are looking for information first and foremost, loot a distant second. I want everyone to be careful about traps. Take one of the spears here and use it to poke at anything suspicious."


    The Party all nodded in agreement. They all had questions, and this would be a good time to find answers to at least some of them.


    Mul asked the first one as they spread out to examine the Feast Hall and Statue Garden. "So what happened Aris? How did you die and yet not die?"


    Aris shook his head as he examined the glowstone torches, "Ironbark got wiped out in an ambush. One minute we were marching down the road, bored out of our skulls by the endless trees and monotony, the next thing I knew we had arrows pouring in. I saw Tam take one in the throat, and Sgt. Gork get hit in the back. I took one right in my eye and hit the dirt. Next thing I know, I''m sitting at a table with a black-cloaked figure talking plots, plans, and divine politics. I wound up making a deal, and then waking up having to crawl out from under a pile of bodies. I''m still putting the details together myself." There is more, But I don''t know how to put it. If you can hear this Mul, we should talk more later.


    Mul poked at the floor lights before one of the statues, "I''ll want to go over what you can remember later Aris. It doesn''t sound like my Patron, nor like any other God or Goddess I''ve ever heard of."


    Lady Ussi reared up to stare into the eyes of another statue, looking for tiny details in the stone, "Did Black Cloak ever claim to be a God or Goddess?"


    Aris peered into one of the empty hallways leading off from the Statue Garden, "no, but Black Cloak didn''t deny it either. If I have some time to think it over, I call recall the full details, word for word."


    Aflia probing spear point found a trapped flagstone, causing darts to volley out of one side of the hallway she was examining. "Well, that looked a bit uncomfortable. Little Bird, Lady Ussi, have you found any inscriptions that might hint at anything?"


    Lady Ussi shook her head, "not unless one of us can read Dwarven. There are inscriptions at the base of the statues, but..."


    Mul flared her nostrils, "Let me take a look then. Rune-keeper, grant me your Sight. Ok, it looks like a poetic riddle. Fun. Here we go: ''Greed: The warrior''s curse / the thief of his future / I deface his past / The more he has / the less it seems / he becomes a slave / of things that glitter / Yet ever I hunger / Feed me that which Glitters above all else.'' His mouth is open, and there is an odd socket in it. Is this riddle a key to unlocking the way down to the next floor?"


    Talae stared at the floor between the four statues, "looks like it to me. there is a pattern to these stones that might be a spelled staircase. I''ve seen similar in the past, where triggering a hidden switch would cause a floor or wall to change shape."


    Little Bird flexed her wings, "four statues, four inscriptions. Four riddles to unlock four locks? And what of the depression set into the center of Where Talae is looking? Is that the socket for a wardstone or similar?"Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    Talae nodded, "good eyes Little Bird. If I had to guess, solving the riddles would reveal the wardstone or key to unseal the next level down."


    Aflia flicked her tail, "Mul, can you read off the other inscriptions? That should tell us more."


    Mul nodded and circled around to the next statue, " ''Terror: The warrior''s bane / I lurk in the darkness of his soul / I bring him to his knees / Weeping and shaking / unable to save himself / yet I sleep / Awaken me.'' There is a gong, but no mallet, in this statues hands."


    She moved to the third statue, " ''Lust: The warrior''s madness / I curse with trust and respect / I slow the hidden blade / by taking his passion for blood / and offering softer feelings in return / Give me the sweet crimson drink of laughter and passion.'' This one holds an empty goblet, so perhaps we need to fill it with something?"


    Mul knelt before the last statue, " ''Pride: I am the warrior''s fate / I raise him up above all / I shout his deeds / He trades respect for scorn / He sees himself a God among men / yet I lack the proper honor / Raise me up in glory / Read aloud my deeds and honor me / The passing on of my legend will reveal my sword''s glory / Raise my blade High / Then you shall know that I am pleased.'' I''ve got nothing. Do we need to read a particular script aloud to this statue? But he has no sword, nor a place to put one."


    Aris shrugged, "the answers may lay somewhere on this floor, but let''s hold off on answering them and unsealing the next floor for now. We have five passage ways here, let''s take them one at a time and see if we find anything unusual."


    The door on the right of the Feast Hall led to a storage room, with a small forge and an equally small bedroom attached to that. Rummaging about revealed no clues that might help solve the riddles, but the storage room did yield a small pile of loot. Two Tiger Eye gems, a Lapis Lazuli, two Moss Agates, a piece of polished Obsidian, a Turquoise, and two hundred and ten gold worth of assorted coinage.


    The door on the left of the Feast Hall led to a small library full of worm-eaten books, a meeting hall with a moldy rug and broken table, and an empty storage room.


    The other three passageways leading off of the Statue garden led to an interconnected set of rooms and hallways. A large Wine Press dominated one room, with a Clockwork Engine backed up against a wall in the next room over. One room was a Junk Room filled with a large pile of discarded objects, while another was outfitted as a Sparring Chamber. The next room was a Harem Chamber, clearly intended for play as much as sleep, with a large decrepit bed, several moth-eaten pillows, and a locked and trapped chest. Talae sprung the trap without much trouble, leaving the toxic dart harmlessly stuck in one of the pillows. The last Four rooms proved to be a Parlor, a Reading Room with four tomes strewn about, a Sword Monument with a typical sword-in-stone display, and another closet of cleaning supplies.


    Along the way, the party marked and avoided or safely triggered a total of twelve more traps. They ranged from darts or spears launched from the walls and ceilings to another gas trap, to a falling piece of stonework.


    The Party regrouped in the Statue Garden. Aris looked around, "does anyone have any ideas about the riddles, or should we give up and start heading back?"


    <hr>


    Status Report:


    Treasury: 10085 (including Aris'' share of the found treasure)


    Income: +5 gold per day (semi-retired Agent of Althiem)


    Gems to be sold (profit to be split among the finders): 2x Tiger Eye, 1x Lapis Lazuli, 2x Moss Agates, 1x Obsidian, 1x Turquoise.


    Equipment: In good condition.


    Estates:


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Ikin: Village, Fishing Docks</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Trebor Convent: Under Construction</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Four Empty Holdings (may be improved later)</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">One Old Temple (occupied by ???)</li>


    </ul>


    The Ring: obsidian band with one carbuncle gem and two empty settings.


    Total Deaths: 1

 Chapter 45: Overthought Solutions

    After searching most of the rooms, the party is left scratching their heads over the riddles. Aflia is left sucking her teeth over the Pride riddle. "Were there any readable books on this level? Particularly any in dwarven? These statues look well-preserved, and I would think that any manuscripts tied to them would be equally well preserved."


    Mul scratched at an old scar on her cheek, "nothing in the library, but there were some dusty tomes in the reading room, across the hall from that sword-in-the-stone monument. Didn''t the riddle also mention a sword?"


    Lady Ussi flicked her tongue, "So we read the manuscripts aloud, then lift up the sword? A bit ritualistic, but it does follow what the riddle asked us to do."


    The party backtracked to the reading room. After a little poking around, and more coughing on dust cast into the air, Mul did find one readable book in dwarven. It was a book of a warrior''s deeds who went by the title of Trollslayer. After a few lines, there was a brief off vibration in the tones of the floor, as if a large block had just moved. A soft blue-green glow illuminated the hall, cast by the pommel of the sword in the stone. Aris griped the blade strongly and pulled upwards. It slid smoothly for all of six inches before there was a soft click. The sword locked into place and the pommel stopped glowing. A chime rung from somewhere on the floor. When the party returned to the statue garden, the Pride statue had its arms upraised, and the same blue-green light glowed from its eyes.


    Aris scratched his chin. "one down and three to go then. Which one do we want to tackle next?"


    Little Bird bobbed her head, "well, both Greed and Terror ask for single specific items, probably a mallet and a gem. We should go looking for them. Perhaps the mallet would be in the forge?"


    Searching the forge revealed nothing but dirt and cold ashes, but it does give the party time to think. Both Talae and Aflia hit on trying the Party''s existing gems in Greed''s mouth, but none of them fit the socket. Frustrated, the Party decides to dig through the trash in the junk-filled room, on the off chance that one or more of the pieces got thrown out. Buried at the bottom of one pile, beneath a broken table, they found a glittering gemstone and an odd triangular key. The gem was just a piece of clear quartz, but cut in such a way as to reflect light brilliantly. Lady Ussi did the honors of fitting the glittering gem into greed''s mouth. She did have to jerk her fingers back when the stone jaw ground shut. The chime sounded again, and Greed''s eyes glowed with the same blue-green illumination as Pride.


    Invigorated by their success, the party decided to search the Sparring chamber before trying the key in the harem chamber chest. Aris was the one who spotted it first, a fuzzy headed mallet among the maces and flails. A short trip back to the statue garden, and a quick tap of mallet against gong later, and one of terror''s eyes glowed the now-familiar blue green. Aris placed the mallet into the open hand, which ground closed around it. The second eye lit up and the chime sounded a third time.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Lady Ussi looked the strange key over, "this has to fit the chest in the harem chamber, because I can''t recall any other locked chests on this floor. And we need red wine to solve Lust''s riddle."


    Talae and Little Bird shared a glance. Talae smoothed her hair back over her ears, wincing at the motion tugged on a scabbed-over wound from the earlier fight. "Well, a pleasure-room might still have a bottle of wine in it. Let¡¯s try it."


    A few moments later The Party was back in the ruins of the harem chamber. Lady Ussi crouched down and slid the strange key into the lock. A turn and a click later and the lid creaked open on half-rusted hinges. The interior of the chest was surprisingly intact, given the dilapidated condition of the exterior. Inside was a envelope with a handful of brass gears and four clusters of grapes, still fresh from the preservation magics.


    Aris scratched his chin, "ooookaay... do we fix the clockwork engine and run the grapes through the wine press, or do we keep searching?"


    Mul picked up the gears, "let''s try the wine press. Can someone fetch an intact bottle from the wine cellar? we''ll need it to catch the results of our efforts."


    Mul, Aris, and Tale spent a good twenty minutes prodding and cursing out the clockwork engine before they got the last gear into place and the whole assembly began to work smoothly. Lady Ussi brought a wine bottle from the wine cellar that was intact enough for the task at hand. A short while later, Mul did the honors of pouring the ''red wine'' into Lust''s cup. The statue raised the full glass to is lips and drank deeply. Lust''s eyes began to glow a black-edged crimson. A drum began to sound somewhere down below the floor, its heartbeat drumbeat echoing in the very stones of the Old Temple. All four statues shook, stone dust cascading down from their joints as they stepped from their pedestals. Their eyes all glowed an eerie blackened crimson. Spectral blades appeared in their hands.


    The four statues spoke in a single voice of grinding boulders, "Terminate Intruders. Protect the Sanctum."


    <hr>


    Status Report:


    Treasury: 10085 (including Aris'' share of the found treasure)


    Income: +5 gold per day (semi-retired Agent of Althiem)


    Gems to be sold (profit to be split among the finders): 2x Tiger Eye, 1x Lapis Lazuli, 2x Moss Agates, 1x Obsidian, 1x Turquoise.


    Equipment: In good condition.


    Estates:


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Ikin: Village, Fishing Docks</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Trebor Convent: Under Construction</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Four Empty Holdings (may be improved later)</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">One Old Temple (occupied by ???)</li>


    </ul>


    The Ring: obsidian band with one carbuncle gem and two empty settings.


    Total Deaths: 1

 Chapter 46: The Better Part of Valor

    Aris didn''t wait for the echoes to fade, "FALL BACK!"


    Mul was already in motion, pulling Lady Ussi along as she ran for the stairs as fast as her legs would carry her. Talae and Little Bird were only slightly slower off the mark, each vaulting the barricade with ease. Aflia froze, too stunned to act. Aris spat an elvish curse vile enough to make Talae blush and unceremoniously slung Aflia over his shoulder and made for the exit.


    The Statues moved in pursuit, their stone feet moving to the beat of the drum. "Terminate Intruders. Protect the Sanctum."


    Mul and Lady Ussi started up the stairs to the ground floor. Talae turned to hold the foot of the stairs while Little Bird flew past her.


    Aris swerved around the barricade, "dammit Talae! Fall Back! We''re not standing to fight!"


    The Statues tore through the barricade without slowing down, their spectral blades leaving ruler-straight lines where they cut through the thick wood without any resistance.


    Talae''s eyes grew huge as the implications of that casual destruction went home. No amount of armor or toughness would shrug off a strike that cut you clean in half. She fled up the spiral stairs as fast as her legs would carry her. Aris was close on her heels, stooping just low enough to avoid bouncing Aflia''s horns off the ceiling.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    The Party didn''t stop running until they had cleared the guardian stones and had reached their campsite from the night before. Aris set Aflia down on her hooves before collapsing to the ground. As they all sat around catching their breath, Lady Ussi managed to gasp something out about organizing her people away from the Old Temple.


    Aris wheezed out a weak laugh, "I think you can take that as a given Lady Ussi. You pick the spot, and I''ll supply the coin to buy the goods your people will need to get started. We can hash out the details once everyone has a house and food. Anyone got a good idea for a name?"


    <hr>


    Status Report:


    Treasury: 5110


    Income: +5 gold per day (semi-retired Agent of Althiem)


    Equipment: In good condition.


    Estates:


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Ikin: Village, Fishing Docks</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Trebor Convent: Under Construction</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Silithid Village: Under Construction</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Three Empty Holdings (may be improved later)</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">One Old Temple (occupied by undead, traps, and animated statues)</li>


    </ul>


    The Ring: obsidian band with one carbuncle gem and two empty settings.


    Total Deaths: 1

 Chapter 47: Building new Homes

    Aris leaned back in his chair and regarded the group assembled before him. Aflia, Little Bird, Talae, Mul and Lady Ussi all looked back at him, along with Lord Wavethunder. He had some decisions to make, and it seemed best to make them now before everyone scattered to their various roosts.


    "Alright, think I can safely assume that all of you have some inclination of why we are all gathered here?" A row of nodding heads was his only response. "Ok, I''ll hit the highlights, then we can go about our own preparations or future meetings as needed. Lord Wavethunder, I am sorry to report that the Old Temple is not a suitable place for Lady Ussi''s people to live. You probably guessed this already, and you have our report on what we found there. You have our own duty to Queen and Country, and I''m not going to stand in your way. I''m here to lend what help you want me to, or to just stay out of the way. All I ask is that you let me know anything that will impact Trebor or my people as a whole. And yes, that includes Lady Ussi''s village. Silithind, elf, human, whatever. If it lives inside Trebor, obeys the laws, and otherwise suffers the burdens of citizenship, then it is one of my people and I will protect it as such."


    Lord Wavethunder offers a sage nod, "agreed. I would expect nothing less from the last Son of Ironbark."


    Aris nodded gratefully in response, "thank you Lord Wavethunder. As for you Lady Ussi, I''m having the goods and tools assembled to start building the new village. I''m planning on having you in charge of it, but you''ll probably want to appoint an executive officer to handle day-to-day business. A deputy mayor, I think is the appropriate civilian title. Where you chose to put it down is up to you, so long as it falls within the borders of Trebor. For now, focus on getting everyone housed, fed, and comfortable; growth and trade will come with time."


    Lady Ussi flicked her forked tongue, "but what of the temple? Are we abandoning it?"


    Aris shook his head, "Gods no, that would be criminally irresponsible of us. I do think it is larger than the six of us that entered it first can handle, and it has implications for the Kingdom of Althiem as a whole, which is why Lord Wavethunder is looking into it. We both have responsibilities that we can''t avoid for too long anyway. And that does bring up the Convent, in a roundabout way. Little Bird, could you consult with Lady Ussi, the Temple of Kuko, and any other temples you deem necessary to consecrate and dedicate the Convent? I would hope for a place where more than one faith can worship, as the convent will probably be the central holy place for the entire island of Cencin."


    Little Bird flexed her wings in thought, already preening slightly over the position you are offering her, "I can do that, though I would like to bring Talae with me in her role as my Acolyte as well. She did prove helpful in... expanding my understanding of Kuko and the Light in general."


    Aris nodded, "I can find no fault with your reasoning, so you have my blessing if Talae has no objections."If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Talae snorted, "I certainly don''t object! And such a task would also benefit me in more ways than one."


    Airs saw the flicker of darkness at the back of Talae''s golden eyes and chose not to push the issue. "Very well, that only leaves one thing on the agenda for this meeting. Aflia, you mentioned needing to study a complete copy of Days of Falling Skies, and the closest one is probably with Lady Ilelahne herself in her tower outside Sapphire. I''d go with you myself if I wasn''t tied down here, So the best I can do is send along a letter of introduction and an escort that she would be familiar with. By name and description if not in person: Shaman Mul."


    Mul''s eyes grew huge, "you would send me to that place of knowledge? Really? Oh so many books to learn from!"


    Aris laughed, "I''ll take that as a yes. We all have preparations to make, and discussions to go through, so I think we''re done for the day, unless there are any questions?"


    "Mew?" Forgetting something Aris?


    Aris sighed, "no Noxxy, I didn''t forget. Lord Wavethunder knows the details already, and Aflia, Little Bird, and Talae all have heard the short version of how I died and didn''t stay dead. We do have time for the full version, if anyone wants to hear it now."


    Mul and Lady Ussi both indicated that they wanted to hear the details.


    Aris sat back, gathered his thoughts, and told the events out, starting from the march to Chedal, and ending with arriving in the town. "Since then, I have only seen Black Cloak once that I can recall: the night of the attack on the Convent."


    Talae''s eyes went large, "so that''s why you got us up and moving in the middle of a freaking thunderstorm at night."


    Aris nodded, "yeah, Black Cloak''s exact words were ''Discord on the air, black threads severed in the dawn, time runs short.'' Obtuse as ever, while still getting to the point. But that''s a problem for a later day. We all have preparations to make and / or work to do. In my case, I need to figure out how I want to invest in Ikin here, so let''s be about it."


    <hr>


    Status Report:


    Treasury: 215


    Income: +105 gold per day


    Amount & Source:


    +5 Semi-retired Agent of Altheim


    +100 Food sold from Ikin


    Equipment: In good condition.


    Estates:


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Ikin: Village: Fishing Docks, New Improvement Under Construction</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Trebor Convent: Under Construction</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Colubrinus: Village: Under Construction</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Three Empty Holdings (may be improved later)</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">One Old Temple (occupied by undead, traps, and animated statues)</li>


    </ul>


    The Ring: obsidian band with one carbuncle gem and two empty settings


    Total Deaths: 1

 Chapter 48: Settling In

    Lady Ussi of the Light could feel the weight of her Oath about her shoulders as she strolled through the foundations of Colubrinus. Her people needer her, but she had little practical knowledge or experience that was of use in the construction effort. Tents and lean-tos were still tucked into corners, but walls and roofs were going up at a rapid pace. The lumber felled for construction was also clearing space for garden plots that would grow into full-fledged farms in a season or so. Her only remaining son Utsszi followed a respectful half-step behind. "As you can see the construction is well underway. The tools and supplies Lord Trebor gifted us are more than sufficient to meet our needs, and the last of the Branded have been... removed. Families are beginning to rebuild their lives once more, free of oppression, but..."


    Lady Ussi flicked her tongue, "I can taste it too. The stink of fear in the air, worry that I have led them from one set of tyrants to another. Lord Trebor is no such tyrant, and Queen Shallahai has demanded nothing that we would not freely give. You would know better than I, have any of the old lore-keepers survived? the ones who remember the stories from before the Fall and the War?"


    Utsszi shook his head, "If any of the old stories did survive, they did so by going so far underground that the Overlords and their Branded could not find them. Why do you ask?"


    Lady Ussi shook her head, "I was just remembering the songs we used to hear on the wind. We used to have songs of our own, and I was wondering if there were any others who still remembered them as they were before the Fall."


    Utsszi stared at his mother''s back, "any others?"


    "Remember the song at the end of the day, just before we sent the first letter to Lord Trebor? The one with the haunting melody?"


    "Yes..."


    "That was The Islander, sung as it used to be, in the Old Tongue."


    Utsszi stopped in his tracks. "The Islander? In the Old Tongue? With the original lyrics?"The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    Lady Ussi turned to look back at her son, "yes. Sung live by one who has seen the Reef, walked its shore, and seen the destruction writ into its stones. And he learned it from one who saw the sky fall at the end of the War, who learned it and more as a child."


    Utsszi rubbed his scaled chin, "midsummer is coming up soon. I wonder if Lord Trebor will allow us to have the dances again, if he allows the old songs to be sung..."


    Lady Ussi gave an impish grin, "I think I can talk him into it."


    <hr>


    Aflia Cencin stood in the doorway, string out at the road. She didn''t want to leave, but Aris had sent her, so she must go. It was her duty, like it or not, to obey.


    Mul tapped her on the shoulder, "I couldn''t help but overhear. Did he send you to do something that you don''t want to do, or did he give you all the aid he could to do what you wanted to do anyway?"


    Aflia''s tail gave a slight twitch and her eyes began to leak, "I don''t know... I''ve been sent away so many times before, and this time... I thought I had more than a surface connection. I thought he cared."


    Mul eased Aflia back inside and shut the door softly, "He does care about you. Deeply. I knew him from the Westmarch War, and Lady SiDabolo knew him from before that. He has scars, way down deep, from growing up much too fast. If you don''t want to go, talk to him about it, and I''ll go in your stead instead of at your side."


    Aflia wiped her eyes, "thank you Mul. Let''s go talk to him."


    <hr>


    Status Report:


    Treasury: 215


    Income: +105 gold per day


    Amount & Source


    +5 Semi-retired Agent of Altheim


    +100 Food sold from Ikin


    Equipment: In good condition.


    Estates:


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Ikin: Village: Fishing Docks, Farms Under Construction</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Trebor Convent: Under Construction</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Colubrinus: Village: Under Construction</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Three Empty Holdings (may be improved later)</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">One Old Temple (occupied by undead, traps, and animated statues)</li>


    </ul>


    The Ring: obsidian band with one carbuncle gem and two empty settings


    Total Deaths: 1

 Chapter 49: Druids

    Talae Telena took time every night to walk in the woods near the Trebor Convent. The darkness didn''t bother her. Indeed, it was soothing to eyes that had spent the vast majority of her life in total darkness. The starlight lit Talae''s way just fine, and the quiet soothed her soul. She needed the quiet, given the bustle of the daylight hours. The planning meetings, the endless flinches from newcomers getting the first glance at her onyx skin, the idiocy of patriarchs who saw her figure and ignored the rest.


    As Talae walked, she kept her eyes open for fallen wood to feed the campfires and hearths of the Convent. Today Talae was just looking for kindling, as she had already split enough logs to keep the fires burning for the next year as a means to work off her frustration. But Talae''s mind wasn''t on her task. Not really. It was on Aflia and Aris. Since that night in the Tavern, nothing more had happened between the two of them. It wasn''t for lack of trying on Aflia part either, she had come to Talae for tips on more than one occasion. Nor was it a matter of a broken heart on either side. It was a matter of scarred hearts. Scars that ran deep enough to mar the soul.


    Talae knew about scars like that because she had some of her own. She had fled her home when she was just sixty years old. Talae had stepped onto the surface and into the light when she was seventy-five. Of the fifteen years in between, Talae could only recall flashes of blood drenched arousal-fury. The ecstasy of seeing prey torn into small chunks to be shoved raw and bleeding into her mouth. The inability to stop, to rest or sleep, in case something came upon her while she was helpless. The missing years were a ragged hole in Talae''s mind, one whose edges still bled from time to time.


    Talae knew that Aflia needed a friend, perhaps even more than a friend, and that Aris was the sort of person who would not betray that friendship. But Aris was slow to reciprocate, weighed down by something in his past, above and beyond being killed and then brought back to life. Talae intended to take her time figuring it out, rather than rushing in and tearing Aris to pisces in the process. The hoot of two owls calling pulled her out of her trance. Before Talae had even begun to think, she found herself in a fighting stance, her warmaul already at the ready. One of the owls gave out a very un-owlish squawk of surprise, followed by the soft thump of a bird hitting the ground. Talae sighed and slug her warmaul. "You don''t have to spy on me little druid, just come out and ask your questions."


    Talae waited through the crackle-crunch of a druid changing shape, and then two druids came out from behind the trees. One was the wisp of a druid who had helped heal her before, the other was the one who had refused. Talae knew the second only in passing, as she had come to collect the wisp before Talae had returned to the capital. The wisp fidgeted, clearly not wanting to be the one to speak first. The other druid was just as skittish, but steeled her nerve and spoke. "I don''t believe that we were ever introduced, drow. I would know your name, that I might thank you for not mistreating my apprentice."


    Talae bit her lip. Another elf who expected the worst of her for her dark skin and pale hair. "My name is Talae Telenna, Berserkr, Acolyte of Kuko. And your names, druids?"


    "Faena Greenleaf, Druid of the Woods. My apprentice, Ena Sumia. My thanks to you, Berserkr, for treating her well. Your mind is keen, for indeed I do come seeking answers. We of the Circle of Lands felt a disturbance. An oath of old, made outside the Circle. We thought you might have something to do with it."Stolen story; please report.


    Talae''s eyes narrowed. This felt all to much like the High Priestesses of her home seeking to squash a rival. "I witnessed such an oath occur, yes. What of it?"


    Faena tipped her head to one side, like a hawk staring at a mouse, "witnessed, or made?"


    Talae snorted in derision, "I do not play word games with you Druid. I was one of five who witnessed a sixth make her oath. If you will not tell me why you seek the oath-taker, then you will get no more from me. I had enough of high priestesses abusing their power before I ever walked on the surface."


    Faena cocked her head the other way, "I seek the oathtaker to confirm her Oath before the gods of the Light. Would you stand in my way?"


    Talae shook her head, "No, I will not. But that Oath was offered to and confirmed by three Heralds. it is already confirmed at the highest levels."


    Ena''s eyes had grown huge, "three Heralds? And they spoke with the voices of the Gods?"


    "Hush apprentice." Faena snapped, "such has not happened since the Seminal War. It could not have happened as the drow says."


    Talae unslung her warmaul and grounded the head, "It happened as I said, whether you believe it or not. I will give you nothing more, as you clearly intend to twist my words against me. So come ahead and fight or flee back to your circle."


    Faena''s eyes narrowed, but she took a step back, "power cannot be allowed to run wild. We will speak again drow. Come apprentice, we are leaving."


    Faena stepped back into the trees, but Ena lingered a moment longer, looking back over her shoulder at Talae. Then she too vanished into the trees.


    Talae hefted her warmaul over one shoulder. Tomorrow looked to be an interesting day.


    <hr>


    Status Report:


    Treasury: 435


    Income: +105 gold per day


    Amount & Source


    +5 Semi-retired Agent of Altheim


    +100 Food sold from Ikin


    Equipment: In good condition.


    Estates:


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Ikin: Village: Fishing Docks, Farms Under Construction</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Trebor Convent: Under Construction</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Colubrinus: Village: Under Construction</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Three Empty Holdings (may be improved later)</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">One Old Temple (occupied by undead, traps, and animated statues)</li>


    </ul>


    The Ring: obsidian band with one carbuncle gem and two empty settings


    Total Deaths: 1

 Chapter 50: Questions Unanswered

    Mul the Silent hesitated at the door, then stepped aside and gestured Aflia Cencin through. "I''ll wait out here. You two need to talk to each other, and you don''t need me underfoot while you do it."


    Aflia drew in a deep breath, then knocked on Aris'' door.


    "Enter!"


    Aflia opened the door, stepped into the office, and shut it behind her. "Aris, do you like me?"


    Aris'' eyebrows rose, but he sent Moxxy away with a thought. "of course I do Aflia. What brought this up?"


    "Then why are you sending me away to Sapphire? Mul wants to go, and I can tell her exactly what volume she needs, and you can give her the letter you were going to give me. Why are you abandoning me like this?"


    Aris rubbed his face, "because I do like you, and I''d rather you not have you walk blind into a relationship that could hurt you again. I know only a little about your father, but I knew men like him. I know you need the love that he could never give you. But I''m not sure I can give you then live without cutting you on the broken parts of me."


    Aflia scrubbed her eyes, trying to stop the tears, "broken? You are probably the only man who looks past my skin, horns, hooves, and tail to see the person beneath. How could you be broken?"


    Aris shook his head, "I have scars in my past. Ones that I live right up to the edge of, and perhaps a little beyond, but they still bleed from time to time. I''d rather they not bleed on you unaware. I had thought to have you go to Sapphire to meet Lady SiDabolo, to walk in the places I have walked, and perhaps learn about the scars in my past without me there to get in the way."


    Aflia gave up trying to stop the tears, "this is what I feared most; that you would be so reasonable about all of this. That you would have me in mind, not your own interests."


    Aris walked around the desk and held his arms open, "I''m here if you need a shoulder to cry on."


    Aflia crushed herself against Aris, "I think I do need a shoulder to cry on, and perhaps a bit more."


    Aris stroked Aflia''s hair gently, "we''ll talk about that something more when you get back. If nothing else, I want you to do three things that I think will show you more about me while you are near Sapphire."


    Aflia clenched her arms tighter, "only if I can ask you to do the same while I am gone."


    Aris gave a gentle snort, "it would be ungentlemanly, unfair, and rude of me to refuse. Name them."


    Aflia drew a shuddering breath, "I want you to talk to the servants of Hokfiin Faalyol and learn about the kind of man my ''father'' really was. I want you to visit my mother''s grave and read the inscription there. And I want you to visit the basement rooms in the Mage Towers where I slept for twelve of my nineteen years."


    Aris hugged Aflia a little tighter, "I will do that. Will you speak to Mul about what the Westmarch War was really like? Will you speak to Lady SiDabolo about fishing on the bay? And Will you walk the shores of Armageddon Reef?"


    Aflia drew back and held Aris at arms length, ignoring the tear stains on his shirt, "I will. Thank you, Aris, for understanding."


    Aris let her go, "how could I not? Go get ready, I''ll have that letter re-drafted by this afternoon. And thank you."


    A commotion from outside the door ended the moment. Aris snatched up his morningstar from a corner and wrenched the door open. The scene that greeted him was more then a bit chaotic. Mul had her battleaxe out, blocking Faena Greenleaf from coming any closer to Lady Ussi. Talae Telena had Ena Sumia in a bear hug, holding her feet off the ground. And to top it all off Elfyr had just walked in the door.


    "son of a... PLANT YOUR FEET!" Aris'' barked command had everyone balking for a moment, but it was long enough for the tension to begin to abate. "Nobody leaves this room until I say different. Now, I''m going to ask some questions as to why this happened, and I''m going to ask them politely. Weapons away, all of you. Talae, set the druid down so she can breathe. Mr. Elfyr, you are here to deliver Lord Wavethunder''s report on the Old Temple, correct?"Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    Elfyr nodded formally, "that is correct Lord Trebor, but it can wait if you need it to."


    Aris shook his head, "It will not need to wait long, I''ll be ready to read it as soon as this is dealt with. Lady Ussi, you are here because...?"


    Lady Ussi flicked her tongue, "I am here to request permission to host the Fire Dance at the midsummer festival, as the old traditions would have it done."


    Faena hisses and started to speak, but a glance from Aris cut her off. "Your reasons, Lady Ussi? I am not aware of any prohibition against the Fire Dance in the realm of Altheim."


    Lady Ussi bowed, "that is correct Lord Trebor, but it was banned under the Overlords. The people of Colubrinus would feel more at ease with official sanction to have the dances again."


    "You have not only my sanction, but my blessing. The dances would be held in a week at the midsummer solstice, if I recall correctly, which doesn''t leave much time to prepare. Please wait in the hall so we can begin to make arrangements."


    Lady Ussi bowed deeply and stepped past Elfyr into the hallway. Aris turned to Talae, "Acolyte Telena, you are here on behalf of Cleric Little Bird?"


    Talae shook her head, "no Lord Trebor, I came here to warn you of these two; Druid Faena Greenleaf and her apprentice Ena Sumia. I see now that such a warning was particularly prudent."


    Aris nodded, and hung his morningstar from his belt, "very well Acolyte Telena. Please wait with Lady Ussi, so that you can represent Cleric Little Bird in the initial preparations."


    Talae dropped a neat curtsy and vanished into the hall.


    Aris turned his gaze to Faena, "Druid Greenleaf, you have threatened the people of my province and nearly got yourself killed in the doing. Explain yourself."


    Faena drew herself up to her full height, "you have an unbound Paladin in your lands, Lord Trebor. I came here to Bind her to the land, as is my right as a Druid of the Circle of the Lands, before she can do more damage. Power can never be allowed to go unchecked, and a Paladin running amok is a power indeed."


    Aris'' eyes hardened. "Apprentice Sumia, do you share the sentiments of your mentor in this matter? Would you seek to forcibly Bind someone against their will without even knowing if they are a danger to themselves or others?"


    Ena gulped audibly, "No I do not Lord Trebor. A Druid is tasked to preserve the land and the balance, not to interfere without just cause."


    Faena all but spat on the floor. Aris'' gaze pinned her mouth shut before she could do so. "Druid Greenleaf, I know exactly which Paladin you seek. I also know that you seek to do that Paladin harm, to the detriment of the Paladin, their Oaths, and the Light they serve. In doing so, you would also cause harm to Trebor, both the land and the people. I will give you one chance to explain yourself, fully and truthfully, before I render judgement."


    Faena did spit at Aris'' statement, "I will not waste words upon a blind human who consorts with tieflings, drow, half-orcs, and silithids. You are obviously beyond all redemption."


    Aris ignored her for a moment. "Apprentice Sumia, do the other Druids of the Circle of the Lands know and approve of Druid Greenleaf''s self-proclaimed mission?"


    Ena stood tall and unafraid of her mentor, "Lord Trebor, they do not know or approve of Druid Greenleaf''s presence in Trebor, much less her mission."


    Aris nodded, "mr. Elfyr, you would know the answer to this better than I, form your work with Lord Wavethunder. Do the Druids of Altheim handle disciplinary matters internally?"


    Elfyr bowed formally, "They do, in so far as such matters are not at odds with the Laws of Althiem. Where they are, they pass their own judgement before passing the matter onto the Lawmasters of Altheim, if such action is required."


    Aris drew in a deep breath and let it out through his nose, "I know all about power unrestricted, and the abuse and corruption the comes with it. I grew up in the bowls of Sapphire, and served as a common soldier in the Westmarch War. I, Lord Trebor, do hereby command that Druid Greenleaf be confined until she can face a trial of her fellow Druids, on the charges of recklessly endangering the land and people of Trebor by attempting to make a Paladin of the Light into a Blackguard against her will. Should Faena Greanleaf survive such judgement, I hereby banish her from Trebor on pain of death."


    Airs looked away from the condemned woman, "Apprentice Sumia, will you summon the other Druids of the Circle of the Lands, or will I need to send another messenger?"


    Ena bowed formally to Aris, completely ignoring her former mentor, "No Lord Cretu, another messenger will not be needed. I will notify the Circle of the Lands of this matter."


    <hr>


    Status Report:


    Treasury: 540


    Income: +105 gold per day


    Amount & Source


    +5 Semi-retired Agent of Altheim


    +100 Food sold from Ikin


    Equipment: In good condition.


    Estates:


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Ikin: Village: Fishing Docks, Farms Under Construction</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Trebor Convent: Under Construction</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Colubrinus: Village: Under Construction</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Three Empty Holdings (may be improved later)</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">One Old Temple (occupied by undead, traps, and animated statues)</li>


    </ul>


    The Ring: obsidian band with one carbuncle gem and two empty settings


    Total Deaths: 1

 Chapter 51: Shapestrong

    Faena let out a sharp, dog-like bark and dropped to her knees. Aris and Mul both stepped back as the sounds of bones snapping and reforming echoed through the waiting room. Before anyone could regain their composure Faena had become a four-foot-long badger. As she barreled towards the door Elfyr made the wise decision and got out of the way. Talae was waiting in the hall and met Badge-Faena with a hard punch on the snout, followed by picking her up and throwing her back through the waiting room and the door to Aris'' office. Aflia let out a yelp as she was showered in splinters, but maintained enough composure to put an icebolt into Badger-Faena''s exposed belly. The pain of crashing through a door and the shock of the icebolt tearing into her belly was too much for Badger-Faena, who began to shift back to human form. When Faena had finished shifting she started to sit up but stopped short.


    A fully-grown cougar sat in the doorway to Aris'' office, watching her expectantly, waiting for her to make another foolish move. Faena slumped to the ground with a whimper and gave up.


    Aris eased his morningstar back onto his belt, "Druid Ena, thank you. Are there any precautions we should take while keeping ms. Greenleaf in custody?"


    Ena shifted back into her elven form with a minimum of disturbing sounds, and much more quickly then Faena has shifted form, "single entrance and exit, and have someone watching her at all times. That should do until the Druids of the Circle of the Lands arrive in a day or two."


    Aris gave a half-bow of thanks, "I''ll set two guards as a minimum, just in case. Mul, Escort our ''guest'' here to the lockup and keep watch on her until I can get formal orders to cover you."


    Mul gave a nod, vanished her battleaxe, and half dragged half carried Faena out of the the office.


    Aris gave a sigh as he looked at the broken door, "mr. Elfyr, is there any particular priority to Lord Wavethunder''s report, or is this one pure routine?"Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    Elfyr picked himself up of the floor, "not that I''m aware of Lord Trebor. The gist of it, once the formal language is stripped away, is that Lord Wavethunder has begun his investigation into the Old Temple, and that I''m your assigned liaison to the project. No findings as of yet, as the specialists are just beginning to arrive on Cencin."


    Aris held out a hand for the report, then tucked it under his arm, "I see that Lord Wavethunder is keeping things ''in the family'' as it were. Is there anything that I need to know about the local midsummer festivals? I''ll be bringing the mayor of Ikin in, of course, but..."


    Elfyr frowned, then shook his head, "nothing I can think of that would be different form midsummer festivals that I''ve seen in human lands. A week off of serious work, with most of the afternoons spent at games or song or drink."


    Aris wiped his brow theatrically, "phew, that''s a relief then. The mayor of Ikin should have some rough plans that we can scale up and adapt."


    Elfyr gave a wry smile and bow, "I''ll leave you to it then Lord Trebor. Be well."


    "And safe travels to you."


    <hr>


    Status Report:


    Treasury: 540


    Income: +105 gold per day


    Amount & Source


    +5 Semi-retired Agent of Altheim


    +100 Food sold from Ikin


    Equipment: In good condition.


    Estates:


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Ikin: Village: Fishing Docks, Farms Under Construction</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Trebor Convent: Under Construction</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Colubrinus: Village: Under Construction</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Three Empty Holdings (may be improved later)</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">One Old Temple (occupied by undead, traps, and animated statues)</li>


    </ul>


    The Ring: obsidian band with one carbuncle gem and two empty settings


    Total Deaths: 1

 Chapter 52: Echoes of Past Wrongs

    Two Days Later...


    It had taken the better part of a day for Aris to find one of the old Lord Cencin''s servants who was willing to talk. It took a few mugs of ale and a quiet corner table to loosen his tongue, but Aris learned much and more about the dragonborn that had fathered Aflia, but had never been her Father.


    "Aye, the bastard was abusive. Manipulated everyone of his staff down the years, and had his wife either blinded to it all or turning a blind eye. It wasn''t too bad while the lady of the house was alive, mostly petty slights. After Lady Cencin was born, the current one that is, it got a bit worse. Not much, mind you, but the wetnurse was never heard nor seen again once she quit. Word is she was found in a ditch with her throat cut and her purse gone, but I thought it awful convenient that she wouldn''t be talking about what she had seen and heard. Then the lady of the house died. Grief, so the story goes, but also awful handy, given that the bastard was looking to get a ''proper'' heir off of some other lady. He did manage to knock one of the dockside whores up, or so the lady claimed, but word was out. No one would take the bastard''s hand in marriage, and fewer and fewer willingly shared his bed."


    Aris set aside his finished mug, "thank you for sharing this with me."


    The old servant shrugged, "I could wish the Lady Cencin would take her rightful seat, but I can see why she would hate the place. If it helps her heal, then all the better. Did you hear how they found the body?"


    Aris'' brow furrowed, "the body of Yarizos Elmid, the old Lord Cencin?"


    The old servant gave a wry grin, "aye. Some pompous merchant got sick after breakfast in a seedy tavern and filed a complaint with the guard. Guard comes down just to do a look-about, make the merchant happy, look good for their bosses. Then this dog come running out of the kitchen with the cook chasing after it. Dog sees the guards, drops its prize, and bolts out the front door. Cook sees the guards, goes white as a sheet, and tries to run out the back. One of the guards chases after the cook, the other one picks up the dog''s prize: the foot of a dragonborn. With the ''good Lord Cencin'' still missing, the guards got all suspicious and decide to have a real look-see in the kitchen. The found what was left of the bastard chained up to a butcher''s block in the back. From the scratches in the board, he was still alive when they started cutting."Stolen story; please report.


    "Damn, that is a bad way to go."


    The old servant just shook his head and drained his mug, "from what I knew of the bastard, and from some of the things the Mages have found in the tower after his death, it was a better end than he deserved."


    <hr>


    Status Report:


    Treasury: 750


    Income: +105 gold per day


    Amount & Source


    +5 Semi-retired Agent of Altheim


    +100 Food sold from Ikin


    Equipment: In good condition.


    Estates:


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Ikin: Village: Fishing Docks, Farms Under Construction</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Trebor Convent: Under Construction</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Colubrinus: Village: Under Construction</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Three Empty Holdings (may be improved later)</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">One Old Temple (occupied by undead, traps, and animated statues)</li>


    </ul>


    The Ring: obsidian band with one carbuncle gem and two empty settings


    Total Deaths: 1

 Chapter 53: Setting Sail

    Aflia Cencin was a bit sad to be leaving Aris, but she didn''t mind missing the festival. Such events drew gawkers and awkward staring from uneducated peasants. Sometimes they brought out street-preachers and doomsayers who latched onto her race as a portent of or target for their ranting.


    Altheim, being an island nation, could only be reached by ship. Certain high-ranking wizards and Agents did have access to teleportation as well, but Afila was neither of those. So she was going to take a ship. But to reach Sapphire, she had two routes. One was to sail all the way from Althiem to Sapphire, the other was to sail to Chedal and walk the rest of the way. It would take longer, but may be safer than risking a long journey by ship. Complicating this decision was the natural distrust that sailors have to women on their ships. It had been bad enough for Aflia as an escorted child, but it would be worse now as an unescorted adult with another female companion in tow. Mul seemed unconcerned, but she wasn''t concerned by much at all.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    And then there was what awaited her at the end of her journey: an encounter with one of the enigmatic SiDabolos. More than just an encounter, she had to ask about the Lady SiDabolo''s personal library for her research and about fishing on Sapphire Bay. Moreover, Lady SiDabolo was probably the only boat owner willing to take her out to Armageddon Reef. Which meant that she would need to spend even more time in her presence. Aflia flicked her tail nervously. At least Mul would be with her the entire time, assuming that anyone could pry her nose out of the books! As Aflia approached the docks to begin looking for a ship, Mul tapped her on the shoulder.


    "I know of a faster way to get to Sapphire, If you are willing to trust me."

 Chapter 54: Black Shrouded Gates

    Aflia flicked her tail impatiently, "of course I trust you Mul. Lead on."


    Mul nodded and beckoned Aflia to follow. "just outside the town, I can open a Gate at sundown. It should take us to the matching hilltop just outside of Sapphire. Just don''t open any of the doors."


    Aflia''s brow furrowed, "what doors?"


    "You will see once we enter the Gate."


    A few hours later atop the hill, Aflia stood back and watched Mul draw an incredibly intricate Magic Circle in the dirt. Whispered Primordial words lit twinkling rune-lights the color of starlight. A slash of un-light cut through reality into the middle of the Circle. With the screech of tortured metal, it ripped wider and took the shape of a doorway into nothingness. Mul motioned Aflia forward, then stepped into oblivion.


    Aflia took a deep breath and followed Mul into the Gate. Immediately she was ambushed by a sense of vertigo, and her hooves went out from under her. Aflia sat there on the floor that wasn''t a floor until her mind managed to orient itself. The Gate burned closed at her back, melding seamlessly into a wall of carven stone. Aflia climbed to her hooves and looked about the area for Mul. Instead she found a endless procession of doors. Some were set into the walls, some stood out from them at odd, unnatural angles, and yet others were freestanding. Some were simple timber, others were of gilded metals, and yet more were blood-drenched wrought iron.


    Mul was nowhere to be seen, and Aflia felt her heartbeat accelerate in panic. She wasn''t in the material realm anymore, had no idea where any of the doors lead to, and had lost her guide.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    "The Blood of the Dragon. We meet at last."


    Aflia whipped around to face the source of the cadaverous voice and found a thin figure in a black cloak leaning casually against the frame of a doorway.


    The figure held up a gloved hand in a gesture of benediction, "no need to fret, I mean you no harm. The Voice of the Outsider is Pacted to me, and has brought you to my realm that you may go with all haste to where you need go. I simply wished to look upon you with my own eyes."


    Aflia drew herself to her full height, "and now that you have, may I be on my way?"


    The figure flicked a dismissive hand, "as soon as The Voice of the Outsider finds her way to us to open the door, you may leave. I would offer you a gift, if you would choose to accept it."


    Aflia tapped a hoof impatiently, "and if I choose not to?"


    "Then it may be some time before the Voice of the Outsider finds her way here."


    "No choice huh. What would you give me then?"


    "I would unlock the power that sings in your Blood; ice as well as fire. Not all at once, no mortal could survive that unprepared, but it would blossom as you grow and learn."


    "Do it then."


    The black-cloaked figure stepped closer and stretched out one gloved hand, "this may feel odd dear." It tapped Aflia gently on the cheek, specifically on the fine scales just below her eyes.


    Aflia gasped as she felt her body twitch. A crackling sparkle of magic raced down her veins to her heart, where it exploded back outward along her arteries. Her blood ran cold as ice and hot as molten stone. Her skin itched furiously. Her vision swam, then faded out. Aflia collapsed to the floor in an untidy heap.


    Mul cam around a corner and saw Aflia in a heap before her Patron, "Lorekeeper, will she live?"


    "She will live, and she will be fine. The Blood of the Dragon has made no pact with me, but you should take her from this place before she wakes. It will make the translocation through the second Gate easier for her."

 Chapter 55: Epitaph

    As Aris entered the small Cencin family graveyard, he couldn''t help but muse on the nature of the divine. He was no priest, well versed in theology and steeped in tradition. Nor was he a Cleric or Paladin, sworn and beholden directly to a divine being or pantheon. He was just a gutter-born commoner who''d come of age in a mercenary outfit, then died and was brought back to life by Black Cloak. That did give Aris something of a unique perspective.


    Aris trailed his fingers over a time-worn gravestone. Black Cloak had brought him back to be a pawn in a game between Gods. That last time such a conflict had spread out into the world, it had only ended at Armageddon Reef. This begged the question; could a God be killed? Aris didn''t think so, and he had three good pieces of evidence to prove it: Denedar, Merrsshulk, and Sslyeth. The gods of the Silithids had survived Armageddon Reef and the deprivations of the Overlords. No hand, mortal or divine, could kill a God it seemed.


    Aris wandered down another row of headstones, looking for the name Aflia had left him. If Gods couldn''t be killed, then how did they come into being? Just about every god and pantheon had their own creation story, and most of them were at odds with each other. Perhaps they were more like ideas than mortals? As below, so above? Was it that simple? Each God was given the powers that they believers ascribed to them, and they drew strength from the number and fervor of the mortals who knew of and believed in them. If that was the case then the Overlords plans for total world dominance were but a precursor. They intended to force enough people to know of and worship themselves to transcend mortality altogether. Aris paused as he realized that he wasn''t alone in the graveyard.


    Black Cloak himself was leaning against an obelisk. "Got it in one Aris. And you''ve already found the flaw in their designs, haven''t you? You can''t force people to believe any more than you can force them to forget."


    Aris rubbed his chin, "So why do you need me then?"


    Black Cloak shrugged, "is not winning a war that will make Armageddon Reef look like a snowball fight not enough? It may not come in your mortal lifetime, but it will come eventually. And when it does, the forces of the Light will need the strength to stand against the Dark. There is no end to the war, mind you, only victories that buy centuries of peace or bloodshed."


    Aris shrugged, "I''ve heard that line before. Brings the Serene Dominas of the Jeweled Cities to mind, along with the old saying ''better the demon you know...'' I disagree, the war between light and dark can be won, but only at a cost too high. Stasis and stagnation. Nothing new, nothing changing. And you know what, that''s not gonna happen either. The elves and dwarves may live long enough, and be stubborn enough, to not change. The other short-lived races my not want to change. But we humans... we are never satisfied with the status quo."


    Black Cloak nodded, "that''s what makes you so dangerous to my kind. If there is a way to kill one of us, however impossible, you humans will find it."


    Aris shook his head, "that''s not true either. Gods are more than mortal, more than immortal. They are Ideas. And we humans have a few Ideas of our own. Innovation and Invention, Progress and Growth. Trebor may be small, but I think it will be the birthplace of something to make Gods and Demons alike tremble."You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    Black Cloak cocked his head sideways, "the Enlightenment."


    Aris noidded, "individual rights and liberty, religious tolerance, constitutional government, the separation of Church and State. These Ideas are not unheard of on this world. Most governments give some rights and liberties to their subjects and citizens. Most major cities have found ways to keep peace between religious factions. Westmarch, Glacierheart, and even the Jeweled Cities are structured around a common code of law and publicly held offices. Even here in Altheim the leading Church isn''t part of the government."


    Black Cloak tipped his head, conceding the point, "so the pieces are in play and the fire is set. From where comes the spark?"


    "Trebor. I will make it a place of shared learning available to any and all so long as they keep the peace. Debate, not daggers, should decide arguments. And from that small fire, torches will be lit and carried abroad."


    Black Cloak flicked a dismissive hand, "a human in a realm of elves? You won''t live long enough to light the spark on your own."


    Aris gave Black Cloak a lopsided grin, "I don''t need to."


    "Eh?"


    Aris'' grin was hungry "I already have friends that will carry the torch after I die. Allies both high and low, mortal and immortal, that will lend their strength to the cause. And with any luck, more will rally willingly to the cause as the fire spreads."


    Black Cloak swept a deep bow of respect, "and there is the spark itself. The Unthinkable has been thought and said, and has moved from possibility to Inevitability. The gravestone you are looking for is the sixth one from the left end of the back row."


    Aris headed for the marker, then stopped, "how did you know?"


    Black Cloak pauses at the entrance to the graveyard, "I carved the Epitaph on the back." He stepped through the gate and vanished.


    Aris wandered over to the gravestone. On the front was the name and date he was expecting. "Joyassa Cencin. Wife, Mother, Silverblood. 741 - 771." Intrigued by Black Cloak''s comment, Aris walked behind the gravestone to check the back side. He found a half-carved inscription, a chisel, and a hammer. "A better woman than any man deserved, a better mother than any daughter had."


    Aris sat back on his haunches for a long moment, then picked up the hammer and chisel to finish the inscription.


    <hr>


    Status Report:


    Treasury: 855


    Income: +105 gold per day


    Amount & Source


    +5 Semi-retired Agent of Altheim


    +100 Food sold from Ikin


    Equipment: In good condition.


    Estates:


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Ikin: Village: Fishing Docks, Farms Under Construction</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Trebor Convent: no upgrades, Dedication to the Light in progress</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Colubrinus: Village: Under Construction</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Three Empty Holdings (may be improved later)</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">One Old Temple (occupied by undead, traps, and animated statues)</li>


    </ul>


    The Ring: obsidian band with two carbuncle gems and one empty setting.

 Chapter 56: Wake

    "You, young lady, are quite lucky to be alive."


    The rough soprano pulled Aflia Cencin out of her half-awake state. "Wh... Where am I?" She pried her eyes open and saw a most unusual face. It was that of an old person, but the race was hard to determine. It had the pointed ears of an elf, the slit eyes of a silithid, and a few small dragon scales dusted the cheeks like freckles. "Who are you?"


    "Ilelahne SiDabolo. No, don''t freak out, you need your rest. What was going through your head, I wonder, to blindly jump through an unstable Gate? You are fortunate that it didn''t implode and tear you into little bits!"


    "I''m in Sapphire then?"


    "Hardly! You are in the medical wing of my tower on Sapphire Bay."


    "Medical wing? I feel fi... URK!"


    "Basin is to your left dear."


    Aflia found the basin, and promptly emptied her stomach into it. After the necessary time and dry heaving, Aflia put the filled basin back on the ground, "I wasn''t sick yesterday..."


    Lady SiDabolo let out a mew of annoyance, "you didn''t go through an unstable Gate yesterday. Where are you from, miss..?"


    "Aflia Cencin, from Trebor in Althiem. I have a letter of introduction in my pack..."


    "You are going to stay in bed until your wings finish growing in."


    "Wings? Wha?"


    Lady SiDabolo pulled a hand mirror out of thin air, "take a look at yourself, try not to freak out, and I''ll explain."


    Aflia took the mirror and stared at her reflection. Her skin was the same dark red, with scales along the edges. but the scales weren''t their usual skin-matching color, instead they were two toned with a crimson center and shining silver edges. "my mother was a silver dragonborn, but..."


    "The emergence of a dormant trait or bloodline instead of the introduction of a new one then. Good, it seems that you will probably survive then."Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    "WHAT!?"


    Lady SiDabolo sighed and took the mirror back, "explanation time then. I can tell that you are a sorceress of the dragon blood. While a safe and stable power source, particularly if the bloodline is natural, it does come with certain physical transformations. Scales are almost universal, and appear at birth, or shortly thereafter. Horns and reptilian eyes are less common, but those would blend in among tieflings because they already have those traits. The one physical transformation that occurs much later, if at all, is the emergence of a fully-functional set of draconic wings. This usually happens when the sorceress in question has reached a certain stage in their training, or after exposure to specific and particularly potent magics or alchemical compounds. The transformation itself is, according to my research, painful at best and fatal at worst. Most of the fatalities occurred when the sorceress in question could not get any medical aid, particularly if their dragonblood power was artificial in origin. Here in the medical wing of my tower you will have all the medical attention you need, so your survival isn''t really in doubt."


    "If that''s the case, why can''t I get out of bed?"


    Lady SiDabolo gave Aflia a lopsided grin, "that would be your feet dear. You can''t feel them right now thanks to the pain-blockers I gave you in your morning broth before you woke up, but your hooves are... splitting. I''ve never seen or read of anything like it my nine centuries of life. The researcher in me wants to document it, and the emergence of your wings, fully. The medical professional in me absolutely refuses to let you walk on them before their transformation is finished."


    Aflia let out a long breath, "ok, I''m not dumb enough to try to walk around against doctor''s orders. This does leave me in a bit of a spot though, given that I was coming here to do some research. Kind of hard to walk about a library when I''m bedridden."


    "Oh? And what brought you all the way to my tower looking for information than? Most people around here avoid me for some reason."


    "I came across a reference to an old tale, bordering on myth really, and the only book that I know has the full version is Days of Falling Skies. The copy in Altheim''s Library is a tad time-worn, and Lord Cretu, the Lord of Trebor, suggested that I may be able to find a copy in your library, seeing as you are the author of that particular work."


    "Lord Cretu? as in Aris Cretu? Last I heard he was an ur-hander in Ironbark, not even three years ago, right after Ironbark kicked ass and took names in the Westmarch War. I''ve been looking for him! Why didn''t you mention him sooner?"


    "He wrote the letter of introduction, and sent me along with another figure from that war, one Mul the Silent."


    Lady SiDabolo''s eyes narrowed dangerously, "I''ve been looking for her too." A shrug, and the flash of temper vanished, "No matter. With your permission, I''ll retrieve the letter of introduction from your pack, along with your other things. While you wait, this may be useful." Lady SiDabolo vanished the hand mirror and called up an ornately bound copy of Days of Falling Skies "You may as well get started on your research."

 Chapter 57: Shifting Tides

    Mul the Silent sat atop a cliff overlooking the sea. It was a desolate place, the island, but it suited her mood. The Lorekeeper''s touch had unlocked something in Aflia, and Mul had made sure that she got to Lady SiDabolo before vanishing to her little sanctuary. She would have to answer Lady SiDablo''s questions in time, but she wasn''t ready. Not yet.


    Mul kicked a stone over the side of the cliff and listened to it splash into the waves far below. Would she ever be ready? Could she ever be ready? Probably not, Mul decided, and if that was true, then better to get it over with with before Lady SiDabolo got any angrier with her. She stood up, cracked her back, and headed for the goat trail that would lead to the base of the cliff and the little rowboat waiting for her there. It was a long row from the ruins of Alexandria back to the mainland.


    <hr>


    Aflia Cencin sat quite upright in bed. Her back ached, but that was to be expected given that she was growing a new set of appendages in a remarkably short time. It was her hooves that bothered her more. She could feel the bone structure shifting, the walls of her hooves splitting into quarters, and a new bony protrusion working its way free of her heel. She picked up her grooming kit and pulled out the hoof-rasp, intent on knocking away the hardened outer layers. Normally she would only use the rasp to level her hooves after chipping them, but today more and more keratin fell away. In a few minutes she was left with a pile of chips and dust and distinctly odd looking feet. Instead of a pair or rounded hooves she had something like the four protrusions of a cloven hoof on each foot.


    "Dear, what have you done to your feet?"


    "Just clipping my nails."


    "Well, I''ll get that swept up in a moment. Feeling able to eat something while I take a look at your back?"


    "Ravenous, so long as you didn''t mix in any sleep potions."


    "Now why would I do that? You slept just fine when I picked you up off my doorstep. Hold still a moment while I get a tray out for you."


    A few moments later and Aflia was happily slurping away at a strong beef broth and bread, trying to ignore Lady SiDabolo poking at her back. It wasn''t painful, just uncomfortable.


    "Hrm. Hard to say now, but the shoulder blades appear to be growing rapidly to provide anchor points for the new muscles. If you can keep this meal down, I''ll make sure to have some serious protein available for dinner. You''re a growing girl again, and you need it."


    Aflia set down her spoon, "I''m not a girl, I''m nineteen years old!"


    "And I''m turning nine hundred this midsummer, so yes, you are a girl to me. And i do hope you will indulge me when I set about making you a new dress and shoes! Your old clothes won''t fit, and I dare say your feet will need some protection now that they don''t have three pounds of nail to take the abuse instead."You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    "Can''t my current clothing be modified as well? I like some of my clothing, and my coloration hasn''t changed that much..."


    "Hmm, probably. You''d have to deal with a bit of a plunging cut in the back on the dresses, but I''m not sure what to do with the shirts and tunics..."


    <hr>


    Aris Cretu was at his desk, dealing with the seemingly unending stream of paperwork that comes with managing Trebor, when there came a delicate knock on his door. "Enter!"


    An old, stoop-shouldered elven Druid entered. "I hope that I''m not intruding on anything Lord Trebor."


    "Just day-to-day paperwork about the upcoming midsummer festivities, nothing that can''t be delayed. What can I help you with Druid...?"


    "Archdruid Aliwin of the Circle of the Lands. I thought I should see the man responsible for uncovering what would have been a grave betrayal and tragedy."


    Aris sat up, "oh? Is ms. Greenleaf''s trial going to begin then?


    Archdruid Aliwin shook his head, "it is already over. Faena will not be a threat to anyone anymore."


    "What was her punishment, if you don''t mind me asking."


    "For attempting to corrupt Paladin Ussi, we cast her out of the Circle of the Lands. For attempting to corrupt Druid Ena, the Earth took back its power, and claimed her life and soul in the doing."


    "That''s rather..."


    "Harsh? Hardly. The Earth gives Druids great strength, binding it into our very essence, and claims that power back if we misuse it. The other reason I wished to see you was to appraise you as a Lord and a ruler of elves, men, and silithids alike. I like what I see, particularly your insistence that a person is a person, irrespective of race or gender."


    "It seems only a right and proper example to set. We''re all mortal in the end."


    "Indeed. With your permission, we of the Circle of the Lands plan to formally anoint Ena as a Druid, and would like to tie it into the celebrations somehow."


    Aris shrugged, "I have no objection, but you should probably coordinate with Cleric Little Bird as to timing and coordination. She''s completing the Blessing on the Convent at the same time."


    Archdruid Aliwin bowed, "That should be no problem. Thank you for your time."


    <hr>


    Status Report:


    Treasury: 1010


    Income: +105 gold per day


    Amount & Source


    +5 Semi-retired Agent of Altheim


    +100 Food sold from Ikin


    +50 Food sold from Colubrinus


    Equipment: In good condition.


    Estates:


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Ikin: Village: Fishing Docks, Farms Under Construction</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Trebor Convent: no upgrades, Dedication to the Light in progress</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Colubrinus: Village: Farms</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Three Empty Holdings (may be improved later)</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">One Old Temple (occupied by undead, traps, and animated statues)</li>


    </ul>


    The Ring: obsidian band with two carbuncle gems and one empty setting.


    Total Deaths: 1

 Chapter 58: Growth

    Aflia Cencin laid face-down on the bed with her feet hanging out over the end. Her feet ached with the change, but it was almost done. Her hooves had become talons on the end of flexible toes, four forward and a fifth directly back. She was learning to walk again, when her back didn''t hurt too much.


    "Any more pain dear?"


    "A bit. It''s in the same spot, just below my shoulders, right in the middle of my back."


    "I''m going to rub it a bit, try and feel if anything has changed since yesterday."


    Aflia groaned, "something changed. I can feel things poking at my skin from the inside out."


    Lady SiDabolo ran her fingers gently down Aflia''s spine, "I can feel them. It should only be another day or two before your wings emerge, possibly sooner if your feet were any indicator. Three days for a total transformation of everything below the tibia, including the growth of an entire new toe, is remarkably rapid. Fortunately, you are already used to walking on your toes, so you will be up and moving about just as soon and you adapt to the new weight on your back."


    A sudden POP echoed around the room. Aflia twitched in sudden agony as ice cold fire ripped down her back. Lady SiDabolo flinched back as a spray of blood scattered across her face.


    "What in the...?"


    Aflia bit off a scream as the ice-fire continued to dance down her spine, "they''re coming!"


    Lady SiDabolo wiped a hand across her face and pulled a surgical kit from thin air, "so much for preparing in advance!"


    A fresh POP splattered a wall with bloody froth. Two spurs of skin-wrapped bone now protruded from Aflia''s back.


    Lady SiDiabolo let out a very un-lady like curse, "They are emerging too soon! The wingtips are caught on something further down. I''m going to have to cut them free."


    "Then quit blathering and do it!"


    Lady SiDabolo didn''t waste any more time with pleasantries. With a strength quite at odds with her (almost) nine hundred year old body, she held Aflia face down on the bed with one hand a fished for a scalpel with the other. "This is going to hurt dear, but try not to thrash too hard."Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    The scalpel bit into flesh and Aflia roared in pain. but it was a fleeting pain as the scalpel sliced downwards freeing the first of her trapped wings. It pulled free of her back with a sucking, squelching sound. Blood ran along the membrane and dripped from the wingtip. Lady SiDabolo made a second incision and freed the second wing, and it was over. Aflia lay whimpering on the bed as the pain receded somewhat. Lady SiDabolo discarded the scalpel and pulled out a roll of gauze to mop up the blood and bind the cuts.


    "Rest dear. I''ll clean this up, then we''ll get you into a fresh bed."


    "I don''t think I''m going to be good for much else for a while..."


    <hr>


    Mul the Silent stood at the foot of the tower. It was a dumpy little structure, not even two stories tall. Built of rough-cut native stone, the windows were set deep into the thick walls. The barest trickle of smoke leaked from the shattered chimney. A humble little tower, a deceitful exterior concealing the vast space and wealth of knowledge inside.


    Mul was not fooled. She knew who lived here. She had left Aflia at the doorstep and fled before, but she could not flee now. Lady Ilelahne SiDabolo was needed, so the Lorekeeper said, so Mul would do. The cost of bringing her out of her isolation was an interview, a story, and a chance. Mul would give the first, the bait in the trap, the paper tossed onto the ember.


    Mul knocked on the door.


    <hr>


    Little Bird perched atop the roof of the main chapel of the Trebor Convent. She liked being alone up high like this. It let her stretch her wings to get up to her perch, and no one could reach her to drag her into the events of the day before she was ready.


    An enormous white bodied, brown winged eagle spiraled down out of the sky to land next to her. In a few heartbeats is shifted to an elderly elven druid sitting cross-legged next to her.


    "Good morning Archdruid Aliwin."


    "And to you Cleric Little Bird."


    "Preparations are going well?"


    "Quite well. I know you don''t appreciate the disruption..."


    Little Bird tossed her head, "Of course I don''t mind. You have an excellent sense of timing, and it buys us both time enough for the serious work to be done in the proper setting."


    "And how do you figure that? Most of the townspeople will be watching the closing song of the festival, true, but there are always a few that sneak off..."


    "With Lord Trebor doing the singing? I don''t think so. It¡¯s going to be the first time in seven centuries that some of these song have been sung in the original language, so I don''t think anyone is going to miss it. I''m almost sad that I won''t be there to see it myself."


    "Seven centuries? I heard something about The Islander being sung, but..."


    "Lord Trebor has already sung that once. Hearing it is part of what brought the silithids of Colubrinus out of hiding, from what I''ve heard. The Islander will probably be part of the set, but it will be interesting to hear the others."


    Aliwin let out a whistle, "That will be impressive. I''m thinking that perhaps we should reschedule our private ceremonies, even if it does mean that we need to dodge gawkers..."

 Chapter 59: Answers Unquestioned

    Aris Cretu stood in the tiny basement room of the Wizard''s Tower of Padan. He wasn''t supposed to be there, but a few coins to a housekeeper and a confident stride had kept him out of trouble so far. But as he looked about the minuscule ''bedroom'' where Aflia had lived for so long, he almost wanted to be found. Wanted to drag someone in authority through the sinking muck of their own making. Aflia came to just above his shoulder (her exact height was tricky to judge with the different structure of her legs), but the bed was hardly big enough for a person two-thirds of his height. The one window only let in light for two hours around noon, the ''desk'' was a plank of unfinished wood on rough-made sawhorses, and the seat of the three-legged stool was slanted. A pile of boots moldered away in one of the corners. Aris recognized them as standard-issue uniform boots of the kind issued to students of the Tower. Aflia had clearly never worn them, preferring instead to go bare-hoofed. The burnt-down candle stubs, rickety bookshelf, and clean chest all spoke of another student having been moved into the room since Aflia had moved out, but Aris couldn''t think of anyone who would stand to live in such a dump. That is, until the occupant literally bumped into him.


    "Ooof! Oh, sorry Sir."


    "My mistake for standing in the doorway, mr. ...?" Aris glanced down, and down some more. The reason for the short bed was as apparent as the wild green hair of the gnome standing in front of him.


    "Ormillan, Sir. Ormillan Bluehair, wildmage-in-training. May I ask who you are and what you are doing in my dorm room?"


    Aris couldn''t help but grin at Ormillan''s impudent tone. "Aris Cretu. A friend asked me to look over their old dorm room, trying to track down a family heirloom. I didn''t know it was occupied, or I would have asked permission."Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    "Oh, ptui! Don''t worry about it. I leave the door unlocked because no-one comes down here anyways. Did''ya find what you were looking for Sir?"


    "Only old memories."


    "Ah. Well then, I hope you find whatever you were looking for."


    "Don''t worry. Um, you do know your hair is, well, green at the moment?"


    The string of profanity that chased Aris into the hallway was as colorful as the hair of the gnome who produced it.


    <hr>


    Status Report:


    Treasury: 1620


    Income: +305 gold per day


    Amount & Source


    +5 Semi-retired Agent of Altheim


    +200 Food sold from Ikin


    +100 Food sold from Colubrinus


    Equipment: In good condition.


    Estates:


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Ikin: Village: Fishing Docks, Farms</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Trebor Convent: no upgrades, Dedication to the Light in progress</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Colubrinus: Village: Farms</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Three Empty Holdings (may be improved later)</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">One Old Temple (occupied by undead, traps, and animated statues)</li>


    </ul>


    The Ring: obsidian band with two carbuncle gems and one empty setting.


    Total Deaths: 1

 Chapter 60: Myths and Legends

    Aflia Cencin leaned heavily against the unadorned staff as she gingerly walked down the hall. Her new claws ticked on the stone tiles and her wings flexed sporadically, not quite flailing as she tried to keep her balance. Her back still hurt where the incisions had scarred over with the help of a healing potion, but she was eager to be mobile again. She needed to get back to Trebor, but to do that she needed to speak with Mul and visit Armageddon Reef.


    Aflia had not spent the time she had been bedridden idly. Days of Falling Skies had proven most informative, being the closest thing available to a neutral and unbiased account of the sources and effects of the powers unleashed upon Alexandria to transform it into Armageddon Reef.


    The Seminal War began with the selection of a trio of new Overlords know as the Three. In the time before the Seminal War, the Overlords had been district managers and overseers. Most had been fair-minded, or at least kept their petty cruelties to a minimum and away from the public eye. The Three were advocates of a different agenda, consolidating power in the hands of the Overlords as a ''public safety measure.'' The resulting upticks in racism, graft, corruption, and intolerance as the Three played one group off against another for their own ends eventually spiraled almost out of control. Only almost, because the Three somehow kept enough control over the situation to keep the ''game'' going.


    But with so many factions in play, the Three becoming more megalomaniacal by the day, and and so much hatred flowing in the streets, the explosion was inevitable. The Blood of the Dragon was the first to fall, and he did not fall quietly. A spellweaver of renown, he was accosted on the street and attacked by assailants unknown, presumably on racial or religious grounds. The reason that the identity of the attackers isn''t known is that they were not quite successful enough in their efforts to kill the Blood of the Dragon. Mortally wounded, he channeled all of his formidably magical reserves and the entirety of his remaining lifeforce into a single suicidal death-curse. The resulting detonation leveled the entire city block, heavily damaged the surrounding blocks, and set much of what was left on fire for good measure.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    From there the Three''s ''game'' started to come apart at the seams. Rioters took to the streets and much more of Alexandria was damaged in the week-long period of anarchy. The Three eventually staged a massive coup, followed by purges of their own ranks and genocides against any non-silithid they could find. The Voice of the Outsider appeared during the bloodbath, an individual acting for and against the Three towards its own unusual ends. Exactly what its plans were is unclear, but the resulting ''ascension'' ceremonies (particularly their spectacular failures) the Three attempted in its wake caused quite a bit of disruption to their command structure. Enough to buy the rest of the world needed time.


    When the dust began to clear, the Three had been disposed of and replaced by a new council of silithid Overlords bent on world domination. As they began to assemble their forces, the Flame in the Dark and the Breeze in the Sky put in their own contributions. The Flame in the Dark led an underground resistance movement that made excellent use of the caves beneath Alexandria. Inside of the first month, they had two divisions tied down. By the time that the final assault was made on Alexandria itself, they had three corps locked down on futile anti-insurgency operations. The Breeze in the Sky was no fighter, but instead the diplomat that made the anti-silithid alliance possible almost single-handed. That alliance didn''t survive the end of the Seminal War, but its dissolution was peaceful enough.


    The Keeper of Lore wasn''t mentioned in Days of Falling Skies at all, which left Aflia to wonder what Denedar, Merrsshulk, and Sslyeth were getting at, mentioning that Title in conjunction with the others.The Keeper of Lore had been mentioned last, so perhaps it was the least of the Titles? And if the Title was small enough, then perhaps it had been lost when Alexandria had been destroyed?


    There was a single endnote, a single one-line reference, that Aflia thought may eventually shed light on the issue. A name and position, mentioned in passing. Innoch, Chronicler of the Ironbark Mercenary company, formerly the Lorekeeper of the Alexandria Library.


    Aflia knocked on the door to Lady SiDabolo''s study, hoping she wasn''t intruding. She was, but it went unnoticed by both Lady SiDabolo and Mul as they locked eyes and minds in a contest of wills. Mul was clearly hiding something, and Lady SiDabolo clearly wanted to know what it was. Aflia loudly rapped her staff on the doorframe to break up the staring contest. "As you two clearly don''t want to talk to each other, can somebody answer some of my questions for once?"

 Chapter 61: Answer now for Your Sins

    Aflia Cencin sat down gingerly, always aware of her new wings and how much they would protest being crushed against the back of a chair, "I came out here at Aris'' request, to gather certain information. I already have some of it, but not all. In particular, I''d like to learn more about the Westmarch War. Aris has mentioned it a time or three, but..."


    Both Mul and Lady SiDabolo looked uncomfortable. Mul broke the silence first, "I cannot tell you all, only what I saw and did. It isn''t nice to hear, and the blood I spilled still haunts me. The grinding unfairness of it all. As the dawn rose on one of the last days of the war, I stood in the breach of a wall and knew that I alone had been responsible for the death of hundreds, many as they slept bundled against the biting cold of a winter storm."


    Lady SiDabolo nodded, "the nights you mined the walls of Fort Westmarch."


    Mul shuddered, "you know of this, and still want to hear more?"


    Lady SiDabolo shook her head, "no. I am only interested in a single conversation Aris mentioned in his own journal."


    Aflia flexed her wings uneasily, "how did you come to read Aris'' journal?"


    "He left a file copy of it with me, for a project of mine." Lady SiDabolo flicked a hand at a semi-organised desk in one corner, piled high with books, tomes, parchment, and quills. "Along with true copies of the Ironbark Logs, up until they left for Chedal at any rate. I''ve tracked down accounts from many of the other prominent and not-so-prominent figures in that war, including access to the Shaman''s Records of Clan Glacierheart of the relevant period. Shaman Elder Wolfbite struck a hard bargain indeed."


    Mul''s eyes were huge, "True copies of the Logs? Including..."The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    "The Logs of Innoch, yes."


    Mul leaned as far away from the desk as she could while staying in her seat, "Then you know what effect they had on me..."


    Aflia broke in, "Innoch? The silithid lore-keeper of the Library of Alexandria?"


    Silence filled the room as Lady DiSabolo''s jaw all but bounced off the tabletop, "It could well be the same Innoch. If it is... The possibilities that opens up... I hadn''t even considered what was in those particular Logs..."


    Aflia held up a hand, "then we both have something to read over in the coming months. But for now, the Westmarch War...?"


    Lady SiDabolo shook her head, "I''ll give you one of the first copies of my book on the matter. It''s a raw distillation of the most relevant entries from various Logs, Journals, and Records, sorted by chronological order, fodder for scholarly debate and an entry-level tome for students learning about the matter. In exchange, I''d like to hear what exactly you talked about with Aris on the night of the seventeenth of December, 769. Both you and he mention it in your Journals, but not what comes of it. Not directly at any rate. Aris did make mention that his memories of that night are hazy, which to me indicated mind-altering magic of some sort."


    Mul snorted in lordly disdain, "woe unto the fool that tries to manipulate the mind of Aris Cretu. We only talked in the Old Tongue, I pointing out just how close he was to going utterly mad, and Aris asking for help on how to handle those memories. I showed him the method I use, that of storing them in ''books'' where they can be freely examined and re-lived, but are not instantly blinding or mind-breaking to look upon. Aris went and built a library to house them, with more than enough room to accommodate future ''books'' at need. I''ll swap you the details for the chance to read the works you have gathered about the Ironbark Company, in particular the Logs of Innoch."


    Aflia shook her head, "all bargaining aside, the only other thing I wanted to do before sailing back to Altheim was to visit Armageddon Reef. So much of what is happening seem to hinge on the events of the Seminal War and its outcome, I''d like to walk the ground in that place, get a feel for what happened there."


    Both Lady SiDabolo and Mul nodded in unison. The matter was settled in all but the details.

 Chapter 62: Shattered Ground

    Mul kept her silence as they walked the ruins of Alexandria. The ground was cratered and cracked from the fighting, such was the violence of the powers that had been unleashed. There was the scorched ring, some six hundred feet in diameter, where the Blood of the Dragon had died during the Seminal War. The close-clumped, overlapping hundred-foot craters where a mage had called down an Iron Storm. The arcs of fire where stone had melted and run in the spell-fueled firefight. The razor clean cuts through entire buildings where dimensional rifts had been weaponized. The fields of ashen bones where merely mortal soldiers had been wiped away in the blink of an eye.


    Never before had so much magic, both Arcane and Divine, been unleashed in battle. Eight million soldiers had fought and died in the space of a single afternoon. The fires had taken weeks to burn out, years for the last of the other-heat to fade from the stones. Even now, there were places still tainted, where staying too long or drinking of the wrong spring would bring a slow, lingering death.


    This was the graveyard of empires: silithid, elven, dwarven, and human alike. No power structure had survived in the vacuum when all others had been ripped away. Iron Fists and Gilded Collars alike had cracked and shattered. The old noble lines had been burnt out or swept away, and new ones had grown in their places. And with them had died magic and knowledge alike. Not forgotten, not entirely, but much more carefully taught and regulated. No-one wanted to see another Seminal War. And so Kingdoms had stagnated, trapped in a fearful stasis of their own making.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    Mul''s mouth twitched in wry amusement. Neither the elves nor the dwarves had dared to look beyond what had kept them safe. Her own orcs had grown bold, aggressively expanding, pushing outwards with the same bared fangs as their ancestors. But it had been the humans who had begun to kick things loose.


    Mul had seen it first in Westmarch, when a group of serfs had tossed aside their fetters, looked beyond racial hatreds, and cut their own Republic into being. In the doing, they had sparked the reform of Clan Glacierheart and the Jeweled Cities. Sparks of that mundane event were still spreading and catching. The Guild had already taken to using magical tools, and were becoming increasingly innovative with what they already knew. And now, with what the Keeper of Lore was putting into motion in Trebor, mixing that heady brew of eager inventiveness, willingness to challenge established doctrine, mechanical know-how and magical assistance... It would be a true Renaissance.


    Dragons counted their lifetimes in millenia, elves and dwarves in centuries. But a human, fortunate to count his life in decades, was about to re-shape the workings of the world before his time was even close to spent.

 Chapter 63: Fast Travel

    "What in the wide ocean is that?" Lady Ilelahne SiDabolo stared out at the low-slung ship rapidly approaching Armageddon Reef without sail or oars, and with a plume of smoke that on any other ship would indicate a fire out of control.


    Aflia tipped her head and flexed her wings, "Has to be some sort of new method for moving over water. I wonder what the fire does...?"


    "New or not, it shouldn''t be able to move like that! No sails, no oars, yet it''s moving faster than a man can run directly into the wind and tide alike! No ship I know of could do that!"


    "Clearly, there is now one that can."


    A short, stout figure stood at the prow of the ship, working a leaded line and checking for the depth of the water.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    "Oh, a dwarf." Lady SiDabolo shrugged, "I should have figured that they''d be the ones to come up with this... thing. Not a drop of magic among the lot of them, but some of the best tinkerers and forge-masters ever to walk this world."


    Mul pointed to the one mast on the ship where the flag flew, "A Westmarch banner! I wonder who sponsored this ship..."


    A man came on deck, checking with the dwarf at the prow. The nodded, agreeing on something, and heaved an anchor over the side as the ship glided smoothly to a stop. The smoke tapered off to the barest wisps.


    Lady SiDabolo rubbed her chin, "An exile? Or a refugee, fleeing the close minded...? I would like to study that ship. How fast could it get to Chedal? Cross the sea from there to Altheim?"


    Aflia shrugged, "not fast enough I''d wager. We''d still have to teleport if we wanted to get back to Trebor in time for the Midsummer festival."


    "But is it important to get back that quickly?"


    "It could be. I don''t know..."

 Chapter 64: Steamship Dethlak

    Aflia Cencin lead the way down to the shore, "I don''t think there is any particular hurry, unless you have plans for your birthday Lady SiDabolo?"


    "Nothing better to do then spending my time drinking tea with a good book. Not many come to visit me anymore, and it is rather... dull."


    "Then why not come out to Trebor for a while? I''m sure Aris would be glad to see you."


    "I just may. Ho there! What Boat?"


    The dwarf all but jumped over the side at the unexpected call, but the human cupped his hands to his mouth "The tug Dethlak, out of Sapphire!"


    "What brings you to the Reef Dethlak?"


    "Sea trials! Needed to know how far and fast we could go, and still make it home."


    "Well, you made it here! Interested in some paying passengers on your way home?"


    "If you don''t mind helping shovel some coal, not at all!"You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    Mul scratched her chin and nodded at the flag, "Why the Westmacrh flag, if you are out of Sapphire master Dwarf?"


    The dwarf shrugged, "none o'' those poncy jeweled-city pricks wanted to get their hands dirty shipping Westmarch grain an'' Glacierheart coal, so Westmarch told ''em to take a flyin'' leap and set about figuring out how to ship it themselves. The Dethlak is only a harbor tug an'' testbed, but the engine works well ''nuf. She does the work o'' six oar-pullers, though she does make a bit o'' smoke an'' noise when the whistle gets pulled."


    "And burning the coal moves the ship how?"


    "Burn the coal to boil the water in the boiler, which drives a fan, which turns a shaft, which turns the propeller. Propeller''s just a fancy name for a bunch o'' oarblades stuck on the end o'' the shaft, an'' I''m skipping over the gears, pipes, an'' whatnot. Dethlak will do about eight miles in an hour, might be as high as ten. We haven''t put her to any speed trials yet, so I don''t have a good number."


    Aflia flicked her tail, "if magic was used to boil the water, how far could the Dethlak sail? And how fast?"


    The dwarf scratched his chin, "I don''t rightly know. Probably as long as we had food for, which bein'' a tug would be a day or two. More if we left the coal at home an'' hoped for the best. Certainly couldn''t cross any oceans nor go far from shore. I built the Dethlak tough, but she isn''t that tough. One good blow an'' she''d go under."


    "So heading up the coast and then across to Althiem would be out of the question?"


    "Aye, but we can take ye back to Sapphire at least, an'' maybe talk some business along the way."

 Chapter 65: Returning

    He woke up lying on a cold stone slab. Which was odd, because he didn''t remember ever going to sleep. This brought on a feeling of deep consternation, because it caused other questions to rise to the the surface. He didn''t know where he was. He didn''t know who he was.


    His hands came up to push the sheet off, and found only air. he swung his legs off the slab, and found only the cold stone beneath his feet. Blindly, he reached out and groped about for the bedside (slabside?) table. He found it, and moments later his questing fingers found the circlet he had left on it: the one that granted sight to his blind eyes. He fit it to his head, and looked around.


    Well, he tried to look around, but it was a bit hard to see with no light. Tapping the circlet, he switched to seeing heat instead of light. It was a mode useful in the dark caves of the world, less so on the surface, and disorienting to one not used to the change. The floor and walls swam into view in the deep-blue tones of unheated stone. He looked down at his hands and feet, wondering why he didn''t feel any clothing on his body.


    His hands started to shake as he realized exactly what he was looking at, what he had become. Memories flooded back into his skull. His jaw fell open, but no noise came out when he tried to scream.


    <hr>


    Back at the tower, Afila Cencin studied the Teleportation circle. It was a permanent fixture, runes set into the stone floor, unlike the rough circle that Mul had used. "It all looks right, as far as I can tell. The only question is where we''re going first."A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    Lady SiDabolo flicked a dismissive hand, "Trebor, of course! This is going to be my first birthday away from my tower in far too long, and I''m not going to miss the party Aris is throwing!"


    Mul tugged at her serviceable shirt, "no offence, but if its a party, then we could use some party clothing..."


    Aflia nodded in agreement, "And Elci''s in Chedal is still the best place I know of for clothes shopping. Might not have the panache of some of the places in Sapphire, but I know Elci, and she always has a good selection of clothing for unusual body-shapes."


    Lady SiDabolo tapped her chin, "I''m not familiar with Chedal off the top of my head. Does it have a Teleportation Circle?"


    Aflia flexed her wings, "I''m not sure. The Althiem troops had to set one up when they were dealing with the orcs in the area, no offence Mul, and it should still be up. If not, there may be one at the Chedal Guild House, but we''d have to check with the local Guild office for the combination."


    Lady SiDabolo flicked a dismissive hand, "If there is a Guild house in Chedal, then I know the combination for its Teleportation Circle. They based their design off of the one here, with my help, so they are all networked together with self-assigning rune combinations based on their geographic location. Give me five moments with a map and diviner¡¯s bowl and we''ll be good to go."

 Chapter 66: Discovery

    He sat in the darkness and listened to the tick... tick... tick... of pick on stone. The secret of the Old Temple had either been breached or bypassed. Or perhaps had worn down with the passage of time. He didn''t know what year it was, didn''t know how long he had lain not-dead on the slab in his hidden place. He did know that only one thing could have awoken him from his rest: the Gods of Alexandria had returned.


    The Overlords, if they still lived (or not-lived, as he himself did not-live), would not take this kindly. They would suffer no challengers to their stolen thrones, divine disapproval be damned. Once again there would be a turning-point, a time and place after witch the world would never be the same. Once again he would record it, in hopes that others might dare to remember that which should never have been forgotten.


    TICK... TICK... TICK... The pick was louder now, digging closer. It would not be long before he walked beneath the sun and stars once more.


    Perhaps he would even remember his name.


    <hr>


    Aflia Cencin blinked away the glowing after-images from the teleport and stepped off of the circle. "well, that went much more smoothly than my last extra-dimensional trip."


    Mul shrugged, "it was safe enough last time."


    Aflia looked at Mul, then at her taloned feet, then back at Mul.


    Mul roller her eyes, "it all worked out, didn''t it?"


    Aflia kept giving Mul the look.


    Lady SiDabolo stepped between them, breaking up the staring contest, "peace, you two. It wouldn''t do to burn down the place before they have a chance to throw us out."


    Aflia flexes her wings slightly, "in that case, we should check in with Riben before heading out. Elci''s is just down the street..."


    <hr>


    Mul wandered the back racks as Aflia and Lady SiDabolo chatted with Elci. She had always worn robes of some sort. Heavy in her youth, lighter as a shaman, lighter still in the forests of Althiem. But this was to be a festival, and Mul wouldn''t be attending as a shaman, so something fancy or festive was in order. Nothing overly flowing or fluttery, but also nothing restrictive either. She needed to be able to move freely if she wanted to dance or fight.


    Mul passed over several dresses that went all the way from shoulder to floor; too much of a tripping hazard for her taste. Likewise she ignored anything that didn''t come to her knees; she wasn''t looking to appear overly inviting and have to tell some drunkard ''no'' with her fists. Color was her next concern. With the green tint to her skin, many of the usual colors just wouldn''t do. White would work, but that was more for marriages then parties, so Mul ignored anything in those tones. Likewise greens and other forest colors were out, as were many of the bright and vibrant shades. In the end Mul settled on looking for something in black.


    Eventually Mul found a display of black dresses. They were clearly intended for high-class parties at some noble''s estate, not a commoner''s fair, but they looked durable enough to do well. One in particular caught her attention, and she lifted it down to examine it more closely. It covered her shoulders, but not her arms, leaving them free to move and displaying her scars for anyone to envy. It was close-fitting but not constrictive across the torso and abdomen before loosening out from the hips to the middle of her shins, letting her walk or run without fear of tripping. It wasn''t deeply cut at the neck or back, nor split above the knee, so it wasn''t overly provocative. It had no pockets, but a belt and some pouches would serve equally well.


    Mul took a closer look at the fabric, trying to get a feel for its weight and toughness. Too light or weak and it would shred over the day, too heavy and it would be plastered to her body with sweat. Mul ran her fingers across the dress, thinking hard. It wasn''t made of cotton or wool, but neither was it made of silk or linen. An experimental tug on one corner revealed just a bit of give, but no tearing or stretch marks. Mul nodded in satisfaction, then looked for either Lady SiDabolo or Aflia, to get a second opinion.


    Lady SiDabolo found her first, "It''s mageweave, but I don''t see any runes, so it''s not enchanted. Tough enough to serve a witch or sorceress in the field without tearing or undue damage, comfortable enough in all but the harshest climates, and good-looking enough to stand out in a crowd. Tell you what, I''m enchanting some of these pieces for Elci as a way of paying for our own purchases. I can put some runes on that for you if you want...?"


    Mul nodded, "yes please. I''m not so good at weaving long-term spells."


    "Battlecaster huh? Good for you, I was never any good in a fight. How does an armor enchantment sound then?"


    "I''d rather not wear this in battle. General health and well-being would be better I think, and perhaps something to keep it clean and intact."


    "That I can do easily enough. Leave this with me and help Aflia, if you would. She was looking of a large rectangular piece of cloth for me, not a finished dress. I''ve an older style that I like, and Elci actually doesn''t have it in stock, but I can remedy that with a quick spell and some sewing."


    "Sure. And thank you."


    <hr>


    Aflia Cencin was in a section of Elci''s that a few weeks ago she would have never considered. The dresses all around her were deeply cut in the back, if not entirely backless, and many had deeply plunging necklines or were split all the way to the hip. The only reason she was considering them at all was the clearance her wings required. Little Bird would know how to modify a dress or a tunic for wings, but she wasn''t here and Aflia was, so an open back was a practical necessity. Aflia would still need to make some small modifications anyway, for her tail. Likewise her reverse-jointed legs (common in tieflings) meant that she needed serious legroom. Doubly so now that she had semi-sharp claws instead of bulky, blunt hooves. A dress split to the hip would give her that room, but the combination of features made her want to blush. She had never worn something so revealing, so provocative, in public before.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    Aflia paused to consider the dresses around her. Given the near-crimson tone of her skin, she had to pick something that wouldn''t clash horribly. In the past she had gone with either browns or other dull tones, but if she was going to be provocative, she may as well go as all-out as she dared. Bright and light tones were not going to work, as they were either too close to her skin tone or clashed vilely with red in general, but perhaps something not quite so dull as in the past...


    Aflia''s gaze settled on a dress tucked away at the end of a row. From the shoulder and sleeve she could see, the silk dress was the color of heart''s blood: a dark, saturated red unblemished by any hint of green or blue. Her skin and scales would show bright against that backdrop without clashing. Pulling it from the rack, Aflia noted that it wasn''t split down the sides, but went not much further then her knees. The back swooped low enough to keep her wings free, but there was enough material to cover her lower back and allow her to make her customary cut-out for her tail. The front plunged deeply enough to teasingly show part of her breasts, but no so low or widely as to risk them coming free. The shoulder straps are likewise wide enough to do their job plus a bit extra, but not wide enough to cover the entire shoulder.


    Aflia giggles as she considers her choice. It felt so naughty, and yet so right. With horns and claws and wings and scales on full display, no elf or silithid was likely to make a forward move. Aflia considers the changing room, where she could make her alterations, and plans two other stops on her way to it. The first is in the jewelry section, where Aflia is looking for something in silver. No gem settings, no gold, just silver to highlight her new silver scales. She selects a teardrop pendant on a fine silver chain and a pair of knotwork-carved silver rings, one for each hand. Lastly, she heads for the intimates section. No silithid or elf would dare make a move on her, but perhaps she could draw the attention of one man in particular.


    A few minutes later Aflia emerged from the fitting room, satisfied with her selections and alterations. She caught sight of Mul, and waved her towards the little seamstress station near the fitting room. The blank cloths would be in that area, and they still had to find one for Lady SiDabolo while she worked.


    <hr>


    Lady Ilelahne SiDabolo stood up from the work table and stretched hugely. Her enchanting work for Elci was complete, with two dozen each of dresses, shirts, and pants spelled for durability and cleanliness, and a few specialty items with a touch more. Two about-the-house outfits for Elci herself, with warmth and comfort added in. A third set of seamstress'' clothes with the same plus puncture-resistant pockets for needles on the vest. Several sets of jewelry now had a bit of extra sparkle, and she had even added in a few flourishes here and there on a few other pieces that had caught her eye. The Pwafi had been re-enchanted for allure, with a minor glamour to make the spiderwebs seem to shift while one wasn''t looking. A particularly daring dress would now hug the skin just tightly enough no not slip off by accident, without gripping so tight as to reveal all. A trio of summer floral designs would appear to bud and bloom over and over.


    Ilelahne grinned as she watched Mul head off to the fitting room to try on her new dress. In addition to the requested health, well-being, durability, and cleanliness, Lady SiDabolo had added in ever-fitting and anti-wrinkle. Aflia was scurrying about returning the enchanted items to a special rack, her own dairing dress similarly enchanted, and Elci was perched atop a tall stool to watch Lady SiDabolo as she got ready to make her own dresses.


    ¡°You mentioned the ''peplos'' style, but I''ve never heard of it. Where''d you come up with that?"


    Lady SiDabolo shook her head and eyed the small stack of cloths large enough for her needs. "it¡¯s actually quite an old style, not common since before the Seminal War. The simplest form was to take a large enough cloth, rectangular in shape, and fold the top third or so down, fold it in half the long way, with the folded down part on the outside, and then secure it with a brooch at the shoulder and belt at the waist. Simple enough, and it looks like a skirt and blouse in the bargain."


    "No stitching at all?"


    "Mmn, it depended. The farm-girls would wear a shorter one, and they''d often patch and patch until the cloth was more patch then original as scrapes and falls took their toll. The rich would get fancy with stitchery and embellishments, but I always favored a good border pattern and strong colors. Plus I cheated shamelessly with enchantments of course."


    "Huh, that actually sounds quite reasonable. Cheap too, for the simpler designs. I wonder why it went out of style?"


    "As people figured out how to stitch properly without magic, blouses and skirts became more common. They also don''t rely on one clasp or brooch to keep your entire body covered, which is a plus. They also take larger cloths for us ''big'' people, which were harder to make back then. Hence the repeated patching among the farmers: it was cheaper than buying a whole new piece of cloth."


    "So you''re going to make one for yourself then?"


    Lady SiDabolo flipped through the cloths available to her, "two I think, if that''s no too much. One for reading and whatnot, one for a midsummer fair. The cream for reading, and the purple for the fair." She pulled out the cream cloth and considered it. With a wave of her hand she aligned the weave and reinforced the edges. A careful consideration of the length gave her the place to make the first fold: the cream would come to her knees and have a waist-length ''blouse''. Another hand-wave set the crease and reinforced the folded edge. Lady SiDabolo called up a sewing kit, from which she pulled two large spools of golden-yellow thread. One she set aside for the other dress, the other she threaded onto a needle and sent it flickering in and out of the cream cloth with the speed of thought. In moments a simple meander pattern had been stitched in at the neck, ''blouse'' hem and knee-hem of the cloth. She folded it in half lengthwise and called in a simple gilded brooch and yellow belt to pair with it.


    With the casual dress done (and the rust knocked off her sewing skills), Lady SiDabolo pulled out the purple cloth for the dress she would wear to the midsummer fair. She frowned, not quite satisfied with the color, and used magic to add just a touch more red. "There is the Tyrian red I remember so well. It used to be fabulously expensive, but it''s impossible to find nowadays."


    "Royal red? I know of a source or two, but I could buy a hundred bolts of lesser colors for the cost of one dress'' worth of royal red. Tyrian red, you called it?"


    "Yes, though I suspect Tyrian did not survive the collapse after the Seminal war, and their secrets went with them. I''d wager Royal red isn''t quite this hue, though it is close. Less purple, more red. ''Third-grade'' I think the Tyrians would have called the hue, but it was a close match and more readily and cheaply available." Lady SiDabolo frowned, then made the first fold for an ankle-length dress with a mid-chest ''blouse''. The other spool of golden thread was quickly put to use, this time with a much more complex knotwork pattern invoking the sea. The second fold was made, and Lady SiDabolo pulled out a gold seashell brooch and a woven silver-gold chain belt and matching necklace.


    "There, that should do. I''ll add the usual enchantments once I get home, given that it''s become fairly late. Is there any other work you need done miss Elci, or is our bill paid?"


    "That''s everything Ilelahne. Do come back if you need anymore clothing, whether you are paying in coin or spell. Either is fine by me!"

 Chapter 67: Multifaith

    Khuk, called Little Bird by her friends and lover, sat in her room. Officially, she was taking an afternoon nap, a necessity for keeping her energy levels up across the high-energy preparations for the upcoming confirmation, consecration, and the festival. Unofficially, Talae and the other acolytes and priestesses had decided that Khuk deserved an hour or two to herself and gone about seeing that she got it uninterrupted. Khuk supposed that she was thankful for this, but it did leave her with an hour of nothing to do. Most days she did nap, or at least rest. Other days, like today, she was too restless for sleep and spent the time in meditation and prayer instead. The vast bulk of the times she had meditated and prayed, she had succeeded only in centering herself. There was that first time, when Kuko had spoken directly to her, confirming her as a Cleric and setting her loose in the world with renewed purpose. And then there was this time.


    Khuk found herself perched neatly on the balcony of a great house in the middle of the woods. She felt light, at ease, and slightly aroused, which confirmed that it was Kuko who had called her spirit to this place. Which meant Kuko wanted to talk in person without the intermediaries of oracle and sign. Khuk hopped down from her perch and gently eased open the balcony door, listening for the sounds that would tell her where her patron Goddess was. She didn''t have to wait long.


    "Come in Khuk, my little bird, I want to speak with you."


    Khuk felt a gentle tug on her being, leading the way into the house. She followed it, careful as always that her talons didn''t gouge the flooring. She found Kuko waiting by the stairway on the ground floor. In the past the stairs had ended here, but now Khuk saw they extended down at least one more level. A private playroom? Khuk didn''t know, couldn''t know without invitation, and certainly wasn''t going to pry.


    "Focus on me my little bird, I have Questions for you."


    Questions were big, important things, as where their Answers. The last time Kuko had asked Khuk a Question, Khuk had been made a Cleric. "I will Answer, my Goddess."


    "La! Such formality. I suppose I am puzzled by your choice of Acolyte, and puzzled further still by your plans to confirm her as a priestess. A Bearzerker of the elves of the Dark? A most unusual choice."


    "Talae''s faith is true, even if she does keep it separate from some things she does. Passion is what drives her, not hatred as so many of her kin in the Dark. When she came up into the Light, something inside her came adrift. The brutal necessities of survival lessened, and her faith had room to grow as her Rage abated. It was Talae who introduced me to your faith, my Goddess, even as you selected me as your Cleric. Now she is a a Defender, with myself and our other friends as those she defends. But I foresee a problem with this, as it stands. We will not live long enough to balance her for her entire life, and I would seek to provide a second thing for her to Defend after our passing."This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    "Oh? I forget how brief mortal lives are. Interesting that you should seek the future even as you mortal life flashes by."


    "I admit, I was inspired by another of my friends in this, a human. His life is not much longer then mine, and yet he builds the place he was given to govern to last beyond the stretch of his life, even the stretch of any children he may have, or their children, or their grandchildren. He seeks peace and Balance, yes, but knows and accepts that Balance must be Defended, and that peace cannot be allowed to harden into Stasis."


    "Hmm, and this is touching upon the consecration. We will come to that, stick with your Acolyte for now Khuk."


    "As you will, my Goddess. I have seen three summers in the mortal realm. With good health, I will see another thirty. Most of my friends will see between eighty and ninety summers. Talae has seen only eighty-two, and will live to see eight hundred. None of us will be there for her to Defend after our deaths, and I would not have the Flame in the Dark go out, or burn out of control."


    "The Flame in the Dark...? You are certain your Acolyte carries this Title?"


    "You did not sense it yourself? Nor the Title that Sslyeth, Denedar, and Merrsshulk used to address me?"


    "I knew you were the Breeze in the Sky, but to have the Flame as an acolyte...? And the silithid Trinity used the Title...?"


    Yes, my Goddess."


    "So how would confirming the Flame as a priestess give her something to Defend after you pass from the mortal realms?"


    "Talae would have a home again, and by confirming her now, she would have time to settle into it before all of her current friends die."


    "And the Consecration of this new temple? Doing so in more then just my name...?"


    "By consecrating the Trebor Temple to more then one faith, it will bind the region together. The silithid trinity have a new Paladin, of the Oath of the Ancients, and she would like a formal place to worship. Druids, both of the Circle of the Lands and of the Circle of the Moon, are beginning a grove in the region, and could use a formal place outside of it for contact. Your faith is not the only faith in Altheim, and thus it is better if all of the faith in the region share a space to worship. It will build tolerance and understanding, both between and of, each faith. All the better so that Trebor does not become a second Alexandria."


    "Good Answers Khuk, my little bird, and thank you for bringing me the information you have. Now, come on down to my playroom, and let me show you a few new things..."

 Chapter 68: Surfacebound

    He figured that he may as well gather his things while he waited for the miner to find his chamber. What clothing he had been wearing (if any) was no more. The closet had only hangers, the dresser only dust. He expected this, given that he had woken up without a stitch on his bed or body. A single lamp sat on the stone desk, its candle burnt to a nub. The ink had spilled, the quill had rotted, the papers eroded to dust. The bookshelf held twisted scraps of leather, all that remained of the covers of his books.


    He sat in the wooden chair before the desk, its old timbers creaking under his weight. Only stone, metal, and wood had survived the years since he had come here. That meant that it had been many decades, probably centuries, since... He tapped his chin. Had he died? Had his soul passed from this plane of existence, even as his mind remained? The body that had been his since birth was long rotted to bones, and the bones unto dust. His new form had endured, as he must have designed to to, but he could not remember making the transfer from one body to the other. He decided that this was a blessing, not wanting to recall whatever ritual had been involved. He also decided that he may as well assume that he was alive, if one stretched the definition slightly, given that he was neither dead and passed on nor a re-animated corpse.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    He looked down at his hands, no longer shocked by what he saw. In the heat-sight afforded to him by his circlet, they were a cool blue, scarcely warmer than the air in the room or the stones on the floor. They aped the appearance of his old, organic silithid body, right down to the way the fine scales slid across each other. His arm where the same thin, frail scholar''s arms he had in his (previous?) life. His chest still rose and fell as if he breathed, although he knew that he no longer needed to.


    Tick... Tick... Tick... Crash.


    The door to his chamber gave out as the pick pulled away one of the hinges. Light from a worker''s lantern spilled into the chamber. The shouting soon followed as the worker fled in unthinking terror. He sighed and exited the chamber, looking for the sun and answers to his questions.

 Chapter 69: Confluence Imminent

    Afla Cencin gathered up her things and prepared to make the teleport back to Trebor. Her pack wasn''t that full or heavy in a material sense, but it was weighty in the metaphorical sense: all new-clothing, a copy of Days of Falling Skies, a new pedicure kit for maintaining her talons. The absence of her old things bothered her on some level, but also felt freeing. She was (almost) a new person, and having mostly new things to go with it felt right.


    She flicked her tail and forced her musings out of her head. The teleport back to Trebor would be slightly more risky then the one to Chedal because there wasn''t a dedicated destination Circle that they could use. Well, not one they knew about, which amounted to the same thing. Lady SiDabolo seemed confident in her skills, so Aflia wasn''t too worried. It would be good to see Aris again, to enjoy the fair without concern for court politics, to have an escape of a sort.


    <hr>


    Mul stared at the slim tome in her hands. It wasn''t a large thing, but it was an important tome. It contained her adventures since she had walked away from Glacierheart two years ago, all of the entries that she would ordinarily have put into the Shaman''s Records. She felt honor-bound to send it north to her people, even if she no longer lived with them. It would likely cause a stir among the shamans, for she had left no explanation as to why she had left, or where she had gone. This tome would offer some answers, and likely bring seekers out looking to ask her more questions.


    But as Mul thought things over, she decided that it wouldn''t matter in the long run. The dwarven captain of the Dethlak already carried word north that there was opportunities to be had in establishing trade routes to Althiem, and she wasn''t exactly inconspicuous in that place. Unless she vanished a second time, someone would put things together and find her. That being the case, she had no real reason to not add her work to the Records.


    She set the tome into its packaging, folded the paper closed, and tied the twine shut.


    <hr>


    Lady Ilelahne SiDabolo poured over a scrying bowl, searching for a suitable teleportation circle in or near Trebor. Thanks to Aflia and Mul, she knew enough for a semi-blind teleport into the area, but that always risked under- or over-shooting the elevation, or not accounting for all of the vegetation / ponds / rivers, or one of a dozen other things that would result in discomfort, inconvenience, or death. She wasn''t too worried about ''jumping blind'' if she did have to: she could use the same empty hilltop that Mul had used at her target.


    But her professional pride wouldn''t let her settle for good enough and almost safe. Not when she had other methods at her disposal, like this scrying bowl. she could look for... there! It wasn''t the kind of teleportation circle that she was used to at all. It was well-hidden, both in the physical realm and from magical scrying. But well-hidden wasn''t the same as invisible, and the lack of magical ''noise'' in a perfect circle had drawn her attention. She pried gently at the concealment, coaxing one Rune at a time into view. Eventually she had the sequence she needed to use the circle as a target, so she pulled her view upwards to get an overview of the area around the circle. The circle was located in a quiet corner of the convent: a secluded and subtly well-defended set of guest quarters. That explained the concealment spells: the circle was intended as an emergency exit for important guests, not common usage. The concealment spells were intended to conceal the circle from anyone seeking a magical entrance into the convent who didn''t already know about it.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    Lady SiDabolo felt a sense of pride at having pried the secret of the circle out of its hiding place. But the little inconsistencies about it and its concealment bothered her. It was concealed well, but not perfectly. It wasn''t in quite the right place for an emergency exit. The Runes were close to the standard teleport circle Runes, but not exactly right. She decided to take a second look at the area around the circle. When she did, she found several well-hidden traps waiting to ambush anyone who didn''t have the correct sequence for the circle and disarm the alarm spells woven into the room.


    Lady SiDabolo sat back and thought about the room and its contents. Idly tapping a finger on her desk, she went over what facts she had about the circle and the room it was in. The more she thought about it, the more she smelled something fishy. no doubt the circle would work for an emergency exit, and could be used as a clandestine entrance by a select handful of people. For everyone else, it was a carefully-baited trap. But the presence of such a well-designed trap also indicated that there was a second teleportation circle. One that was almost certainly undefended but even more cunningly hidden, relying on its slightly more obvious twin to draw attention.


    With this in mind, Lady SiDabolo began her search anew. This time, she went looking for the physical necessities of a teleportation circle instead of the distinct magical signature of an empowered one. It would need to be large enough to move several people at once, possibly an injured person on a stretcher, so it would need a similarly large room to house it. It would need to be in the secure section of the guest quarters, easily accessible in case of emergency, but not obvious to an attacker. It would likely be unempowered to eliminate any magical signature at the cost of a slightly longer activation time.


    She eventually found it under the rug in the hall outside of the bedrooms. A simple circle and set of runes set into the floor, unempowered but with power-reserves attached and ready, and pre-keyed to a single destination. It could be activated by someone of zero magical talent if they knew the ritual of activation. But as with all teleportation circles it had a target sequence for inbound teleportations. Lady SiDaboilo took one last scry of the surrounding room before she was satisfied. She had her target circle.


    <hr>


    He stood in the sunlight and looked down across the wooded foothills at the sea beyond. He was on an island, but it was not Alexandria. He scratched his chin, trying to recall how he had gotten here. He recalled grabbing a mark of rank not his own, a necessity to open certain doors in his flight. he remembered getting hit in the back with... something. Probably a bolt or arrow, but her would never know for sure. As he fell to the ground, he had felt something pulling at him. Given his current body, the mark of rank must have held a fail-safe contingency spell. Whomever he had taken the mark from (he couldn''t remember) must have preferred this form of existence to death. Still, there were signs of life in the woods and along the coast. He set off towards the town, leaving the ruined structure he had emerged from behind.

 Chapter 70: Brace for Impact

    Aris Cretu nodded at the guard who was trying to get his attention, then casually ambled over to chat with him. "What news?"


    "The Queen and the princesses will be making an appearance at the Fire Dance. Lord Wavethunder is making the arrangements for them to stay at the Convent with Little Bird. They will be arriving tomorrow. Assuming, that is, you have no objections Lord Trebor?"


    Aris nodded casually, "none whatsoever. If there is anything Lord Wavethunder or Her Majesty needs that I can provide in this, it is theirs. Within reason, of course!"


    The guarded nodded, bowed, and vanished into the crowd of people finishing the preparations for the fair.


    Aris stretched, and headed off to his next appointment; something about ensuring that there were enough drummers for the dance...


    <hr>


    Aflia Cencin blinked away the after effects of the teleportation, then slowly raised her hands, "Ilelahne, where exactly did you teleport us...?"


    Ilelahne shrugged and eyed at the guard, "the only safe teleportation circle in Trebor. I didn''t know it was reserved or anything."


    "But where did you teleport us?"


    "Guest quarters of a convent, I think. Quite secure ones too."Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    The tromp of boots on wooden flooring heralded the arrival of more guards


    Aflia rolled her eyes, "I can guess who is in residence then, if you''d like. Her Majesty, Queen Shallahai of Althiem, with guests. Too many royal guards for just a personal visit."


    A young elf poked her head out of a doorway, "miss Cencin, when did you grow wings? Can I grow them too?"


    The guards relaxed slightly when one of the ''intruders'' was identified and vouched for. An officer stepped forward with polite questions, and the rest of Aflia''s afternoon vanished into bureaucratic red tape.


    <hr>


    Status Report:


    Treasury: 2535


    Income: +305 gold per day


    Amount & Source


    +5 Semi-retired Agent of Altheim


    +200 Food sold from Ikin


    +100 Food sold from Colubrinus


    Equipment: In good condition.


    Estates:


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Ikin: Village: Fishing Docks, Farms</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Trebor Convent: no upgrades, Dedication to the Light in progress</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Colubrinus: Village: Farms</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Three Empty Holdings (may be improved later)</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">One Old Temple (occupied by undead, traps, and animated statues)</li>


    </ul>


    The Ring: obsidian band with two carbuncle gems and one empty setting.


    Total Deaths: 1

 Chapter 71: Drumbeat

    Lady Ussi rolled her fingers on the Zelkova-wood desk, eyeing Old Orolo across his surface. The old fisher-elf was the unofficial song-keeper and tale-teller of Trebor and he was being his usual irate, ornery self.


    "what do you mean little miss snake, you don''t have enough drums?"


    "We have enough for this year, but they''re either thrown together in a hurry out of green wood or so old the heads are starting to crack. I''m talking about next year, and probably the next two or three after that. A proper oked¨­ ¨­-daiko</a> takes that long to make, but we''ll have some smaller ko-daiko and ch¨±-daiko done before then. What I''m asking for is help in finding drums, and perhaps drummers, to fill the gaps."


    "And why is this my problem again? You''ve got Lord Aris wrapped around your finger, or more likely your tail. Why not ask him, hmm?"


    The tattoo of fingers on wood stopped. "Who taught you how to hate?"


    "Eh?"


    "Who taught you how to hate? Because hate isn''t in the blood, isn''t part of how we are made."This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    "No one taught me to hate. But the old levee, she taught me to weep and moan. When she broke, she had what it took to make a fisher-elf leave his home on the jeweled bay. And then your kin and kind tore the whole bay right up, killed my home and left me to wander out here. Now you are back, and I''m in no mood to help you on account of what you cost me."


    "Those stupid kuso are not my kin or kind. Not after they got two of my sons killed for no good reason. One died right in front of me, and the body of the other was never recovered. And then I had to leave my home or they would have killed me... if I was lucky. I was damn near ready to follow my sons until I heard the Islander."


    Old Orolo bowed his head, "aye, I remember that night. Dumb of me to spout off that way without thinking of what you lost coming out of the forest like that, joining the kingdom. I don''t know what I can do about replacement drums, not this year at any rate. That''s no reason we can''t start fresh and try and find some common ground though. What song did you want fresh drums for anyway?"


    "Well, my former slave-masters banned certain songs and dances, or gave us versions that weren''t quite right. What I want to perform is one of those old dances, the Fire Dance, they way it was meant to be done before the Overlords came to power. I''ve got most of it, I think, from a few lorekeepers that kept the old books out of raw stubbornness, even if they could never share what was in them."


    "The Fire Dance, eh? I recall watching those from when I was a boy, might be something I could help with, if you''d let me. Certainly I don''t have the strength to join the drummers, nor the footwork to join the dancers!"

 Chapter 72: The Standard

    Aris Cretu walked into the dining hall with more than a bit of trepidation. A secret summons from Queen Shalahai was unexpected, and could mean a problem had arisen that needed dealt with. Or it could mean that she was Most Displeased with one or more of his recent decisions. Or that one or more of the other Lords of Althiem had gotten tired of the ''uppity human'' and decided to trump something up serious enough to get the Queen involved.


    Queen Shalahai sat at one end of the table, a neat square of black cloth folded on the table before her, a smile danced at the corners of her lips. Lord Wavethunder sat to her right with an urchin''s grin plastered across his normally stoic face. Ilelahne SiDabolo sat to her left, a curious humor dancing in her eyes.


    Aris relaxed mentally, but held his body at attention, "you summoned me my Queen?"


    "Yes I did, Captain-Chronicler Cretu. Take a seat."


    Aris took the offered seat, "Captain-Chronicler?"


    "I see we caught you off-guard and unaware. Lord Wavethunder, would you care to elaborate?"This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    "Certainly. My Agents, Swords and Daggers both, have been following up leads tossed up in your wake. Lady Ussi has been most helpful as well, given her previous position in the Overlord''s network. Between the two of you, we have broken open and rolled up several of the Overlord''s spy rings and action cells. In particular, the documents we recovered from the Siren''s safe in Chedal led us to the action cells that hit the Ironbark Company."


    Aris'' throat tightened up at the memory of the fallen friends he left behind.


    "We didn''t know what we had until we were sifting through the post-battle wreckage. Had I known, I would have called you in to lead the assault in person."


    Aris'' eyes locked onto the folded square of black cloth. He didn''t need to see it unfurled to know what icon graced its front: The silver tree of Ironbark.


    Ilelahne rested one hand on top of the Standard, "more than just the Standard, I have a full copy of the Logs too."


    Queen Shalahai speaks softly in the silence, "We called you Captain-Chronicler for a reason, Aris Cretu. The fate of Ironbark rests in your hands, and your hands alone. What say you?"


    I could reform Ironbark, but do I want to? It would mean giving up so much here, setting aside all that I would stand to build and see grown. On the other hand, do I dare let nine hundred years of history be consigned to oblivion?

 Chapter 73: The Chronicler

    Aris Cretu let out a long breath, "part of me wishes that the Ironbark Mercenary company would come into being again, but that is not to be. They were hard men, the first founders of Ironbark, landless men with only pike and coin to call their own in a world with no room for mercy and second chances that had to be taken at sword-point.


    "I have been building Trebor into a place that would be anathema to such men. I hope that this convent will become a place of learning as well as one of worship. I pray that the towns in this area will grow large and prosperous, without fear of the ravages of war, secure within a Kingdom worth their loyalty and with the might to defend itself. The Ironbark of old would find no employment here, save perhaps by one who wished to destroy it.


    "The Ironbark that marched free from Westmarch after the war there was a different beast entirely. We had cast off the contract for the sake of coin that would have seen us dead in favor of a contract of cause with the men and women of Westmarch. That was a people and a place worth standing for. A place where a man was judged not by his race but by what he did, what he strived for.


    "The Ironbark of Westmarch, I would like to think, would find a similar place here in Trebor. Not as a Mercenary Company, but as a regiment of the Althiem Royal Army."


    Lord Wavethunder whistles silently, "my queen, I second this motion. You know how much of the Royal Army is currently comprised of fyrd</a> troops, and a second permanent standing formation would strengthen the Army significantly."This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    Queen Shalahai nods, "and would provide a further bulwark against some of the more audacious Lords. I think they are starting to wake up to just how much power we have been diverting into Royal hands."


    Aris bows deeply, "then may I suggest that the Ironbark Regiment be comprised in the large part by commoners? Soldiers sworn to the Crown directly, led by other such men, bound together by shared experience. They would be resistant to the blandishments and bribes of the Lords if for no other reason then the mutual disrespect between commoners and Lords."


    Lord Wavethunder frowns, "gutter-born men you mean, men with no honor or courtly manners. Just the sort of men the Navy loves so dearly because they have fewer airs and a willingness to work and endure hardship. It will stick in the Lords collective craw..."


    Ilelahne SiDabolo snorted, "let it. It''ll bait one or two into the open where the Crown can squash them the way they deserve for undercutting its legitimacy. And by the time they wake up to what the Ironbark Regiment really is, it''ll be too late for them to take the field and win. But for that to work, we do need to establish that the Regiment is the successor to the Company. It needs to be a separate entity and develop its own identity, its own traditions. I think a new standards is in order."


    Queen Shallahai nodded, "it would be good to formalize the Royal Guard into a discreet regiment as well, and perhaps form a third Regiment on Bera as well, so that nobody feels left out. What changes would you propose for the Ironbark standard, Lord Cretu? Perhaps keep the silver tree and black sky, but at a green field?"


    Aflia poked her head through the open door, "Apologies for the interruption my Queen, Lords and Lady. The Dance is About to begin, and a figure has been spotted in the woods near the convent."

 Chapter 74: Metal in the Moonlight

    Aris Cretu swallowed a curse, "Aflia, go enjoy the dance, I''ll join you as soon as I can. Lord Wavethunder, if you could see to the safety of her Majesty, I''ll see to this interloper." And me without my blade or warplate. Noxxy?


    "Mew?" What now? I was about to go hunting.


    Remind me where I put my Greatsword would you? My heads a bit scrambled at the moment.


    "Mrow." Office, on the weapon rack. Where you always leave it.


    Thanks Noxxy. Aris hurried from the room, already trying to guess at who would be intruding on the convent.


    He didn''t see Aflia staring at his back as he hurried away, nor the frown on Ilelahne''s face as she hurried after him.


    <hr>


    He followed the sounds of the gathering towards the settlement. The sounds of merriment and celebration suffused the air, causing him to slow his approach. He didn''t know how long it had been, or how what he now was would be remembered, but he remembered from... before... that the appearance of one like himself would have been the ghost at the feast. He stopped perhaps three long steps from the edge of the trees as an expectant silence fell over the land. Something was about to happen, presumably a long-expected performance at the festival. Torches were being lit as the sun began to set.


    thoom¡­


    There. A drumbeat. Was that...?


    Thoom¡­


    Could it be?


    THoom... THOom¡­If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    It was.


    THOOm... THOOM¡­


    But how? Alexandria had been fire and rubble when he had...


    THOOM THOOM¡­


    Was this a dance? A call to arms? A last farewell?


    THOOM THOOM THOOM THOOM¡­


    He drew back a step, puzzled. He would listen, and perhaps learn, in solitude. Only he wouldn''t get that solitude, he discovered, as two figures walked across the grass towards where he stood.


    <hr>


    Aris Cretu stepped softly across the grass borders of the convent. He could hear the drums beginning the call to the Fire Dance, feel the night breeze blowing down of the mountains over in Paric. The setting sun and kindled torches cast dancing shadows in the trees in front of him. Aris'' greatsword sat heavy across his back, his shirt clung to his chest in the summer heat.


    There. In the trees. A glint of torchlight on metal. Something stepping back from one tree to another, withdrawing deeper into the woods. Fleeing discovery? Or changing position for a better view?


    A twig snapped behind Aris, announcing the presence of someone following him into danger. He didn''t look back because he had left only allies and friends behind at the convent.


    <hr>


    Ilelahne SiDabolo froze as her foot found the twig. She had no Idea what she was doing here, in a possible combat situation, with no training as a war-caster. Ilelahne was an Enchanter and Diviner for planes'' sake! But this shadowed figure, the look on Aflia''s face, the absence of the Althiem Royal Guards... Something was afoot, and she was determined to be here in person to see it instead of reading about it in a book someday.


    <hr>


    He froze when the twig snapped. Not because it had broken under his foot, but because it had drawn his attention to the second figure: the woman. The man was clearly a guard or soldier come to see what was lurking in the woods. The black pants and white shirt spoke of a man pulled away from the celebrations, but the battered greatsword that the man carried spoke of a seasoned combatant. The woman on the other hand wore what looked to be a peasant''s dress, were it not in Tyrian Red. Gold jewelry graced her arms and neck, but most importantly she cared no weapons. A spellcaster then? Common-born but risen to wealth with her emergent abilities? He didn''t know, so he waited.


    The drums rumbled on, swirling into a dance.


    <hr>


    Aris stopped his advance. He could feel the music building, feel the moment of decision approaching. He could go forwards with blade drawn or issue a challenge as see what the figure in the woods did.

 Chapter 75: Dead men Living

    Aris Cretu paused, his hands itched to draw his greatsword, "Who goes there?"


    The metal-clad figure stood silent.


    Aris clenched his teeth and resisted the urge to draw his blade and have done with it, "Who. Goes. There?"


    The metal-clad figure shrugged, and stepped from behind the tree, "If I knew, I would tell you. What year is it?"


    Aris relaxed slightly, "750"


    "Was I really asleep for only thirty two years? But that can''t be, everything in my room had decayed to dust..."


    Ilelahne SiDabolo cleared her throat, "seven hundred and fiftieth year since the end of the Seminal War. Seven hundred and fifty years after the destruction of Alexandria."


    The metal-clad figure froze solid. Slowly it sunk to a cross-legged seat on the ground, then fell over onto its back. "So many years, so much lost... were I flesh, I would weep."


    Aris got his first good look at the figure as it lay there. It was silithid in form: a torso with the usual two legs, two arms, and head covered by fine scales. But instead of flesh, it was covered, no skinned, in fine metal. No attempt had been made to hide the artificial nature of the figure: no clothing covered its form, no muscles bulged, no anatomical details had been included below the neck. "Lady SiDabolo, what is this this thing?"


    Ilelahne frowned, "It appears to be a warforged, a living construct. The Silithid Empire used them during the war, but their secrets were lost with Alexandria. Most of them were near-mindless, little more than combat beasts, but this one... Something is different about this one. It speaks, it moves with near-organic fluidity, it knows that it had a name."


    Aris frowned, "I think the oldest of the Logs mentioned that there had been some theoretical meta-arcane research on the warforged before the fall of Alexandria, but they never mentioned what that research was Lady SiDabolo, "This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    The warforged stirred, "Lady SiDabolo...? The Logs...? Why does that seem familiar... Why does my mind have these holes...?"


    A jagged-edged rift appeared in the air and a black-cloaked figure stepped from it, "Do you want to know, old soul?"


    Ilelahne frowned, "what sort of being uses an unstable Gate so casually?"


    Aris spat on the ground, "What fresh catastrophe, Black Cloak?"


    Black Cloak shrugged, "A lore-keeper once thought dead by all including myself. Though I suppose he did die, his body made as ashes on the wind, but his soul did not pass on."


    Aris grunted, "that makes both of us not-dead and not-undead."


    Black Cloak nodded, "actors still on the stage after the curtains should have fallen, yes."


    Ilelahne tugged at one pointy ear, "so who is this old soul then?"


    Black Cloak Turned to look at Aris and Ilelahne, "you both know of him, though I dare not speak his name at this time. The question is whether or not he wants to know again. I can gift him this knowledge, all of the memories and sensations of his life before his death, but only if he wishes to know. It will be painful, for once gifted there is no forgetting, no unseeing, no unknowing. The Silent asked to know what lives beyond the stars. I showed her, and it changed her forever. The alternative is to help the old soul remember on his own, with books and tales, myth and song, time and patience."


    Aris blanched, "Mul knows of you? And you left her to scream for two days?"


    Black Cloak nodded sadly, "there was nothing else I could do. Any aid I could have rendered would have come with a dire risk of making her condition worse still."


    The warforged stirred and came to a sitting position, "You I remember clearly, along with your teasing questions. I do wish to remember once more, in all of its horror and glory. The hole in my mind will itch forever if I do not."


    Black Cloak held out a hand, "then take my hand, Innoch Warforged, and remember."


    Innoch stood and took Black Cloaks hand, then collapsed onto the round with the sound of metal tearing.


    Black Cloak stepped back, "I must leave now, lest my presence worsen his condition further. Good luck." He stepped back through the rift and vanished as silently as he had appeared.


    Ilelahne rushed over to the fallen form, "unconscious, as far as I can tell. I could use a hand, but you have to get ready for your performance. You should make an Appearance at the dance for political reasons..." She trails off as she tries to pry one of Innoch''s eyelids open.

 Chapter 76: Medic!

    Aris Cretu frowned, "Should I get a medic or a smith to help you?"


    Ilelahne SiDabolo rolled her eyes, "both, and two sets of strong muscles as well!"


    "On it ma''am!" Aris turned and hustled for the convent. He met Lord Wavethunder and his raised eyebrow just inside of the door. "No threat sir. One civilian down. Lady SiDabolo is seeing to his treatment, but she requests a medic, a smith, and a couple of strong helpers to move her patient."


    Lord Wavthunder''s eyebrow stayed adhered to his hairline, "Who is the civilian? and who was the figure in black?"


    "The civilian goes by the name of Innoch. The figure in black was Black Cloak."You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    The second eyebrow joined the first, "Black Cloak? The same one who...?"


    Aris nodded, "and then some, if I''m getting all the pieces put together properly. Still, crisis mostly over, her Majesty is safe, and I''m overdue to make an Appearance at the dance."


    "Mostly?"


    "Lady SiDabolo still needs help, probably quiet-like, but that''s about it."


    "Ah. And the smith?"


    Aris leaned his greatsword inside the door and straightened his shirt. "Innoch, the civillian, is a warforged. Now, if you''ve got this under control, I''ll go ahead and make my Appearance to reassure my people that all is well."


    Lord Wavethunder watched Aris'' departing back for a moment, his brain running in circles. He could only summon up one word to express his thoughts. "What.¡±

 Chapter 77: Old Faces, new Places

    Mul the Silent drifted around the edges of the dance, listening to the rumbling roar of the drumline, Feeling the mageweave slide against her skin, and feeling serene for the first time since she had walked away from Clan Glacierheart nearly three and a half years ago. The murmur of other minds was a comforting froth of hope and joy. Here a young silithid couple worshiping the Light without fear of the Overseers. There an old elf mulling over old war legends and wondering how much was myth and how much was self-serving propaganda. And hidden behind a shack, drowned out in the noise of the crowd, a young mixed-race pair learning a few intimate, new things about each other.


    Lulled into passivity by her surroundings, Mul was nearly ambushed when she felt the glacial stubbornness of another orc moving through the crowd. She instinctively disengaged from the crowd and slipped into the shadows between two vendor''s stalls. It had been long enough that one of her ex-clanmates could have followed her, seeking to drag her back to the clan. Or it could be another had asked about her journal and followed her into the Lorekeeper''s service. Either way, Mul needed to see this new orc before he saw her. She needed to know what she was dealing with before she could respond.


    Mul found him leaned against a handy pile of stone on the edge of the firelight. He was dressed in well-worn travel clothes, bare feat caked with the dirt of the road. A gnarled wooden staff was slung across his back, and the starlight struck silver highlights in his white hair. Mul shrugged and abandoned stealth, walking right in.


    Didn''t think I''d see you again Shaman Koroc the Singer.


    "Nor I you, Shaman Mul the Silent."


    What brought you to search for me, all the way out here away from the Clanhold?


    "Questions without answers, and a problem without a solution. You remember your little valley?"


    How could I not?


    "Right, dumb question. Well, it''s at the middle of of the problem, and the Shaman Elder sent me to ask you for advice on the matter, given your connection to the place. It would be an excellent location for both a wizard''s tower or a Druidic Circle, but the two are mutually exclusive. The tower would need to be built, and the circle would need unspoiled, unworked land. I''m inclined in favor of the circle myself, by temperament and training, but the runes kept coming up ''The Silent''."


    You made a Rune, and named it after me? I''d have thought you would quietly forget me instead.


    "We could never forget one who embodied what you do. You walked the Grey Roads in the Clan''s time of need, and then walked away rather than endanger others. Your journal has served as a final gatekeeper to those same roads, and at least four Shaman Initiates that I know of have read it and turned away."


    You honor me with you words and Runes, but as you say, I walked away. That valley belongs to the Clanhold, not me.


    "Still, you have the greatest claim on the place, and you know the most of what can be seen from its hilltops."


    And then some. Tell me, do the Shamans still have a place for their ceremonies outside the Clanhold? The ones done away from prying eyes, listening to the echoes of the wild?


    "We have several such places, and I admit to using your valley for that purpose myself some nights. It always seems a particularly potent place for such rituals."


    Then you have your answer. Keep that valley for the Druids and the Shamans, for I am not sure how the intrinsic magic of that place would interact with arcane magics.


    "Probably spectacularly. Thank you."


    Ahh, but you didn''t come all the way to Trebor just to ask me a question did you? Come, let''s find some proper drinks and talk.


    "You''ve gotten your voice back then? I''d love to hear you sing the old songs again."


    No, I''ve just gotten better at making others think that I''m speaking. Come on, I can hear the firewater calling our name. Whatever happened to¡­?


    <hr>


    Lady Ilelahne SiDabolo mused that it was most unusual to see a living patient''s leg flayed open without blood or screams everywhere. Even more so to see the medic assisting her taking notes furiously while they waited for the smith to finish welding the fibula back together. When that was done, she and the medic would put it back into place, re-attach the ''muscles'' and ''tendons'', then slide the skin back on like a sock.


    ¡°How does it feel, Innoch? No pain or discomfort?"


    Innoch was taking it all so stoically, devouring a history compendium while he waited, "none worth mentioning. There is discomfort to be sure, and a disjointed feeling when I try to flex my toes and nothing moves, but no pain."Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    The medic tapped his quill against his inkwell, "Lady SiDabolo, Lord Innoch, do you mind me asking some questions about how warforged are made? In case Lord Innoch ever needs repaired again, and none of us are here to assist?"


    Innoch ground out a throaty chuckle, "And also so that Lord Wavethunder could perhaps try to make warforged of his own, no doubt?" The medic flushed crimson, but Innoch folded his book and tapped his chin, "I do not have the full information he wants, and other things he would need are unavailable, and yet other parts dance on the very edge of unhallowed ritual. But let be begin at the beginning, with the first ''generation'' of warforged.


    ¡°If you read back through the accounts of the Seminal war, particularly the ones that dug into the after action reports, then you would know that the first warforged to appear on the battlefields were huge brutes of beings; large in frame and weighed down with the strength and armor to smash through battle lines. These were the first generation of warforged, and they were so large and heavy as a consequence of how they were made.


    "I had only the barest scraps of information in the restricted stacks at Alexandria, from the untitled journal of a smith who never mentioned name, caste, or even gender, the rest was sequestered as a ''State Secret''. Reading between the lines, it is clear to me why. The smith had created a Runeforge, and at its heart sat a very particular anvil: one that could only ever be used to make warforged. The one who had volunteered to join the ranks of the warforged would enter the Runeforge naked and lay in the armor layed out upon the anvil. The smith would then fasten and weld the armor shut about the volunteer, transforming it into both a prison and a coffin. Next the smith would pour in a molten substance he called ''soul flux'', immolating the volunteer alive inside the armor. Then the smith would hammer the armor into working shape, breaking the joints free of their immobility as the ''soul flux'' tore the animating will of the volunteer free of their dying body and infused it into the armor itself.


    "I can see the horror on your face, and the confusion as you look at my leg. This method was not the final refinement of the process, for it was quickly determined that the first generation of warforged were unstable at best. The pain of their transformation drove them just a bit insane and their size and bulk, twice to thrice the height and weight of a mortal, made them cumbersome to deploy. Thus plans were drawn up for a second generation of warforged. The smith was assigned to work with priests and mages, tasked with trapping more then simple animating will of the volunteer inside the armor. The second generation warforged were only little bigger than mortals, perhaps as large and as heavy as a knight in full war-plate. The smith did not write down the new methodology, only that it involved "trapping the mind and soul." What I do know is that he was condemned to his own anvil when he questioned the new process. The smith''s assistants carried out the new process almost correctly, but not quite.


    "What happened next was recorded in numerous other documents, most of which agreed in the basic facts of the matter. The smith, now warforged, rampaged through his Runeforge, slaughtering his assistants and destroying everything he could. Some accounts tell that the anvil itself was found shattered, others that it was damaged but intact, and a small handful say that the smith escaped with his anvil, never to be seen again.


    "The mages and the priests ostensibly abandoned the warforged project, but the evidence of my own body shows that at least one of them continued the research in total secrecy. At this point I can only speculate, as I had no records of their work, and only the one example. I would speculate that whichever spellcaster continued the project was working with the mechanics of litchdom, or at the very least a highly evolved soul-trap spell, with a finely constructed golem body as the intended vessel. I don''t know how many were made, or how the vessels were keyed to their owners. I wound up in this one after seizing a mark of rank, that of a Lord-Commander I think, from a dying man. I believe I was slain in the flesh soon thereafter, triggering whatever contingency spell the mark of rank contained, and trapping me in this body."


    Ilelahne frowned, "so you''re immortal now? And the Overlords of old may be waiting to wake up somewhere as well?"


    Innoch shook his head, "for some definitions of immortal, yes. I do not age, nor require food or drink. I do require rest, repair should I be damaged, and I can be slain. As for the Overlords, I do not know."


    <hr>


    Aris Cretu walked through the crowd dispensing pleasantries and reassurances as he went. He spotted Ormillan Bluehair, complete with his hair restored to its (un)natural blue hue debating in great length with a barkeep over a particularly fizzy mug of what used to be ale. Aris defused the situation by paying the barkeep for the drink and handing Ormillan a glass of water, which promptly fizzed up, much to everyone''s amusement.


    Little Bird and Aliwen, their respective benedictions complete, were wandering the fair performing much the same function as Aris: putting in an Appearance, being seen, speaking to people, giving a certain aura of holiness and goodness to the proceedings, making sure everything went smoothly.


    Elfyr was also moving through the crowd, acting as an extra set of eyes for Lord Wavethunder. Aris didn''t doubt that Elfyr would be filing independent reports on the silithid community in Trebor. Aris didn''t mind, given where that community had come from and how far along the process of integrating them into the society of Althiem at large still had to go. Aris finally found Aflia, "my apologies for making you wait, and for missing so much of the dance. What can I do to make it up to you?"


    Aflia flicked a wing in irritation, but she took Aris'' hand in hers and pulled him towards the sound of the drums, "dance at least the last set with me then, before you have to go on stage to sing."


    "Gladly, my lady."


    "And stop being such a miserable pile of secrets! I didn''t find much of anything on the Reef."


    Aris pulled Aflia into the steps of the dance, conscious of her new feet and wings, "on the contrary, you learned much and more, didn''t you?"


    "I did, and was left with even more questions. You know who gifted me with these wings, right?"


    "Black Cloak."


    "Yeah, what''s your deal with him anyway? Mul called him Lorekeeper. At least I think she did, I was passing out at the time."


    "I think that is a subject better pondered over at length with a good drink and better company. For now, let''s enjoy the dance while we can."


    "Mmn, and perhaps we can talk more after your set then?"


    "Of course! In the meantime, perhaps you would care to join Lady Ussi and I onstage?"


    "Perhaps, if you tell me what you''re singing in advance? Is it something sweet, or...?"

 Chapter 78: Sweet Songs in Harmony

    Aris Cretu performed a deliberately over-extravagant bow, "Sweet, of course! Wouldn''t do to spoil the mood on a night like this! Skellige Winds, Amnesia, and Stay by my Side. With Into the Wild as the encore. In the old tongue of course. You know the Lyrics, I assume?"


    Aflia laughed allowed and flounced an equally elaborate curtsy, "to those old chestnuts? I think I can keep up. Lead on!"


    Most of the drummers had cleared the stage, leaving only the three largest drums performing a high-energy piece to finish out the set. Aris quickly led the way to the side of the stage where Lady Ussi was waiting. The Drummers wrapped up their set to thunderous applause. A quiet, expectant silence fell over the crowd. Aris took the stage and gazed out across the crowd. "Now, I know it''s getting late and we''ve all had quite the day, so I''ll not bore you all with a long speech."


    Aris paused, letting the expected chuckle roll across the crowd, "I do have a short bit I want to say though, before we begin. Thank you, one and all, for everything you''ve done in the past few weeks. Together we have turned over stones on some old history, mended some old scars, and gotten a good start knocking some old prejudices upside the head. But enough of the political bullshit, we''re here to sing a few songs, yeah?"


    The answering roar of the crowd was almost deafening.


    "Alright then, let''s start it off with an old standby then! Skellige Winds a wild a wild, Skellege Winds..."


    <hr>


    Little Bird and Aliwen perched on top of the convent''s temple, listening to the trio of voices calling out to the night, and the massed chorus roaring along in a comfortable common harmony. Little Bird flexed a wing, "not the songs I expected to hear from Aris."The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    "Oh? and what were you expecting?"


    "Something older and sadder, perhaps. The Parting Glass or The Last Goodbye."


    "Hrmm, is that so? Then perhaps Aris is growing up some. Growing out of the Soldier and into the Leader?"


    "Little Bird clacked her beak, "no, I don''t think so. Not yet, at least. But I do think he has a few new chinks in that armor of ice about his heart."


    "Hrmm? How so?"


    "He has something more important than a Queen he can respect and a People worth leading. He has a place to call Home, someone his own age and lifespan to live with, not just next to, and perhaps a bit more when this night is all done."


    "Oh?"


    "Old Druid, I''d be able to tell even if I wasn''t a Cleric of Kuko. Stay by my Side, with Aflia right there and no alcohol and bad memories to get in the way?"


    "Ahum, I think you are right."


    "Pah, you don''t need to hide it, I can tell you''re blushing. Aris isn''t the only one tonight, I''d lay money on it."


    "No bet, young aarakocra! I wonder how many young half-bloods will be running about in a few months?"


    "Not many, given the differences between silithids and humans nearly seven hundred and fifty years of racial divergence will produce."


    "True. I wonder if Aris realises exactly what Lady SiDabolo is?"


    "Almost certainly not, and I don''t think he cares either."


    Aliwen craned his head around, looking at something moving in the darkness. "It seems that I should probably make myself scarce now. Have fun with your acolyte!"


    A short time later Little Bird was sitting alone on the roof with Talae calling up to her from the balcony below. She smiled as best she could with a beak and glided down to join her lover. She made sure to close the blinds before they really got going though, just in case.


    <hr>


    The Ring: obsidian band with three carbuncle gems.

 Chapter 79: Enlightened Revolution

    Six weeks after the Dance¡­


    Aris Cretu and Elfir sat across the bar table from a pair of dwarven adventurers, representing a larger group of dwarves looking to find a new home away from the oppressive traditions of their forebears. Aris scratched his chin, "Well, I certainly have no problem with you and yours moving in, so long as nobody is breaking the law. I may even have a place where you could start off, unless you really wanted to strike the earth in totally new location. Elfyr, did you and Lord Wavethunder ever figure out what was up with that old temple?"


    Elfyr scratched the back of his head, "ehh yes and no. It''s clear of danger, and we trashed the traps proper just in case. Research hasn''t turned up much aside from the fact that it''s older than Althiem. I did get one hit on a name, possibly; Varr Barak."


    The dwarf on the left, rejoicing in the name of Igmun Burnside, perked up, "Varr Barak. You are sure?"


    Elfyr grinned, "reasonably, why?"


    "Would you mind if we took a week or so to look it over, as well as a true copy of the Altheim and Trebor lawbooks? If it is Varr Barak, I think we can strike a deal."


    Aris held up a hand, "Before we rush on in, can someone explain to me what Varr Barak is or was?"


    The dwarf on the right, one Choren Ironbreaker, tugged at his beard, "oh just one of the richest trade outposts in the old Karaz empire, and its principle naval yard. I''d wager the tunnels run deeper than you know, and the mines''d run deeper still."


    Igmun rubbed his palms together, "I''d wager there''s some iron and coal left in those mines, and we could get a foregeworks up in a few months, with a true steam-powered steelworks to follow on. Dredge out the bay a bit, and we could get some of those new Westmarch steambarges in. Have to build, or rebuild if we can find it, the old cargo road..."A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    Aris held up his hands, "you''ve convinced me. Lets take that week to make sure we have our facts right, then we can get the industry up and running. Welcome to Trebor."


    Three months after the Dance¡­


    Lady Ilelahne SiDabolo leaned on her walking cane as she strolled the stacks of the Trebor Convent''s new library. Most of the works on the shelves were books from her personal archive, but the scribes and copyists were working furiously away to produce books to fill the rest of the shelves. The scriptorium was on hold, pending a re-design to incorporate the newfangled printing presses, but that didn''t mean that she wasn''t eminently satisfied with Chief Librarian Innoch.


    Innoch was quite literally working without rest forming the index that would turn this place from a scholar''s den to a true library. Without an index the books were just books, and it would take a dedicated scholar weeks of searching to find the tome they wanted. With the index, it was a matter of minutes to find any tome, and even less time to find related works. All Innoch or any other librarian had to do was run a finger down the list of books, sorted by title, author(s) or editor(s), or general subject matter, to find the shelf where the book was located. A few moments of walking later and the book could be found, with other works on the same subject matter in close proximity.


    Ormillan Bluehair had been banned from the library proper after an incident involving a pet chipmunk, a blue gemstone, and a touch of wild magic, but he was chasing after a making a magical assistant to help maintain the index automatically. He called his work the Archive Project, and Ilelahne did have to admit that it was showing some signs of progress, even if the developing spirit of intellect did have a borderline unhealthy fascination with works of fiction and romance.


    Ilelahne sighed as she settled into a wicker chair with a view of the harbor. She did have to admit that the warmth of the sun felt good here in Altheim, even if she did wish for a bit more breeze during the hotter days of summer. She leaned back and let the distant crash of the sea lull her to sleep.

 Chapter 80: Two Years on

    Two years after the Dance¡­


    Aris Cretu was helping Innoch un-crate and sort the latest shipment of books from Lady SiDiabolo. As he unloaded several tomes on genealogy, Aris couldn''t help but ask the question on his mind. "Innoch, do you know what race Lady SiDiabolo is? I can''t seem to place her features despite working with her for so long."


    Innoch took the tome from Aris'' hand and kept sorting, "I presume you are referring to Ilelahne SiDiabolo? If I recall correctly..."


    "Oh please, we both know you don''t forget anything anymore."


    "Much as I wish I could sometimes. Ilelahne is a three blood at least, a child of three races, with perhaps a touch of a fourth bloodline. Care to make a guess which?"


    Aris scratched Noxxy''s head as he thought, "Elf, if her ears are anything to go by. High or wood from her skin color. Silithid eyes, so that''s the second. As for the last two, or what proportion of each, I''ve no idea."This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    "By proportion from greatest to least: human, elven, silithid, and possibly a bit of dragon from her magical strength and her scales. At least, that is the prevailing accepted theory."


    "You mean there are others?"


    "There are always others. Open that next crate and we can sort while we speculate."


    Aris picked up the crowbar and set to the task, "so what is the less accepted theory then?"


    "Pure speculation, not credible theories, and in no particular order: a dragon with a penchant for shape-shifting, the daughter of a god and a demon or devil, or a manifestation of magic given flesh. There is no proven evidence of any of these of course, but such speculation has always surrounded the SiDabolo family."


    "why?"


    "The SiDabolos are a family of fantastically rich, powerful, enigmatic spellcasters with a known tradition of adopting individuals of all races and commonly exhibiting features belonging to more than one race. Rumors and speculation are the norm."


    "A fair point."


    "And how is little Hope doing? And Aflia, for that matter? I haven''t seen them in a while."


    "Probably because you never leave your library! Hope is running about like any other toddler, hooves chewing up the grass, and Aflia is glad to have wings to keep up with her..."