《An Eldritch Tale: the Archwizard's Tome》


 Chapter 1 (Revised)

    Kosram gave all five kids a sly grin before he tossed in a bit of powder into the hearth. It was flour and harmless but, the misdirection was necessary. Not that any of the other patrons would notice. They were all clustered around the north-end of the hearth. He and the children were hidden by the large stack of split wood on the south side, meant to feed this fiery beast.


    But if any of these kids had Potential, Kosram wasn¡¯t going to be the one to unleash them upon Tendorvasht.


    As the children''s¡¯ eyes watched the flames gobble the powder greedily, he began to cast Prestidigitation, a simple cantrip. He muttered the incantation under his breath. His left hand, stretched out as far as he dared from his hiding spot, towards the hearth. He twisted it until the palm faced the ceiling above.


    The flames nestled in the hearth before him began to change.


    Tendrils of red were dyed blue, tongues of orange shifted to purple. The warm glow darkened to a dimness that almost seemed..sinister. The scorching heat had died down but the flames themselves still blazed like before.


    Circled around the hearth, the other patrons - a few stout Duran traders and some locals - had been animatedly chatting to one another over plates of bacon, freshly-baked bread, and porridge.


    Now, however, they were caught in this cold glow he had conjured. The clamor simmered to quiet tones, which faded to soft murmurs before dying down entirely. Uncertain glances were shared as they stared at the unnatural pyre.


    Kosram breathed in deeply. Through the wood smoke, he could smell the most delectable of scents - fear. It was like the whistling of an arrow in flight, cutting through the serenity of the wood. You couldn¡¯t help but notice it, have your senses rivet upon it.


    Marisa, the eldest of the bunch, peered through a hole in the woodpile and smirked.


    ¡°They look terrified, Kos,¡± she whispered as she cradled the youngest of the bunch. The little one was barely ten months-old; he wasn¡¯t old enough to be Named.


    ¡°Just wait,¡± Kosram whispered back before responding with a grin of his own. ¡°Listen to this, kidlets. ¡± He pulled out a bit of fleece from a belt pouch. Rubbing it between two of his fingers, he closed his eyes and put his right index finger and middle finger together before curling them inwards towards his palm.


    A low whistling began to fill the lodge. Quiet at first; it was faint enough that a man might think he was imagining it. But, at Kosram¡¯s beckoning, it grew louder and shriller. He opened an eye and peaked around the corner of the woodpile.


    The other patrons were wide-eyed, clutching one another. Their breakfast was forgotten as their eyes darted around the room, from ceiling to corner to even the floor in search of a source. A quick sniff was enough to tell him that these folkswere fingers away from pissing themselves.


    The kidlets snickered away, jabbing one another with elbows and trying to smother their mirth with their little hands.


    Now, for the final touch.


    Luckily for him, his concentration could maintain at most three spells. The fleece fell free of his fingers just as it turned to ash. While retaining the somatic form of the last cantrip with his right hand, he grabbed another bit of fleece.


    Kosram conjured memories of his old mentor. The old orc¡¯s voice was perfect for intimidation after all; Kosram knew that better than anyone.


    It was gravely and it seemed to rumble in the belly before being expelled through the mouth. It was loud, even at a whisper. It could command a room and be heard through the din of the loudest of taverns. He heard Graug¡¯s voice in his head.


    Graug had a flair for the dramatic and tended to over-emphasize words. Particularly, the second word in a sentence. As an embellishment, Kosram threw in a touch of dripping scorn and disregard.


    Using all of his dexterity, Kosram performed the Minor Illusion cantrip once more with just one hand this time. Not bad, Kos. Not bad.


    A voice roared from the hearth. ¡°Who dares disturb my slumber!¡±


    Perfect.


    All of the Patrons jumped, looking wildly about. One of the Dura, a barrel-chested fellow with his beard woven into two-braids, leaned towards one of his companions.


    ¡°It¡¯s a ghost I tell ya¡± he whispered. His voice was low as if trying to not provoke whatever had spoken. Cute. ¡°This lodge be haunted!¡±


    Kosram shushed the children who are on the verge of bursting out laughing. It was an awkward gesture, trying to put his index finger to his lips while maintaining two somatic forms.


    The kidlets gave him one collective look before devolving into snickers. But they quieted themselves.


    ¡°I am Graug!¡± roared the Voice. Kosram motioned with his left hand, coaxing the hearth¡¯s flames to grow in size. The hearth burst into a towering pyre, filling the room with blinding firelight. The Patrons shrunk back, gasping out loud.¡°And I warn thee! Leave this place and never come back or you shall suffer my wrath!¡±


    A couple by the names of Falon and Christa, one of the few folks he could see from his hiding spot, scampered to their feet before bolting out of sight. Kosram heard the door slam open before fluttering back and forth at the force of their passing.


    Time for the finale.


    ¡°You have been warned! Flee or forever be damned as I!¡±


    With that, Kosram let go of his two cantrips. The conjured sounds faded. His hands, sore from maintaining the somatic forms, had one last job to perform. He clapped his hands together, before folding and interlacing all of his middle and index fingers together. The hearth¡¯s fire was snuffed out instantly. All that was left was darkness and silence.


    Then, a stampede of thundering feet, cursing, and swearing filled his ears as did the *slam!* of the door before fluttering back and forth. It was punctuated by cries of, ¡°Ghosts! Gods be damned Ghosts!¡± and ¡°Cursed! We are all doomed!¡±.


    Kosram waited a few moments before peering over the woodpile. The lodge was empty save for him and the kidlets. He looked down at the children. They looked back at him.


    And they all burst out laughing. A child¡¯s laughter was the most beautiful sound in the world. It warmed Kosram¡¯s heart like a lover¡¯s warm embrace.


    ¡°That was incredible!¡± said Rendval. ¡°I can¡¯t believe everything went according to plan! Kos, you are amazing!¡±


    ¡°I know right!¡± Salor said. ¡°I want to learn how to cast! I want to be a Wizard!¡±


    He and his twin brother started to cry and wail dramatically in unison. ¡° ¡®Oh Gods! There be a ghost!¡¯ Haha! I¡¯ve never seen a Dwarf run so fast!¡±


    Marisa narrowed her eyes at that. She gave custody of her brother to Vel, the last of this rag-tag bunch, and promptly smacked the backs of both brothers¡¯ heads.


    ¡°Ow!¡± They both rubbed their heads in unison. ¡°What wa-¡±


    ¡°No name-calling! You know what Ma and Pa would say if they heard ya calling any Dura that.¡±


    ¡°Your sister is right,¡± Kosram said with a small smile. He sat down beside the hearth and cast Prestidigitation again. The hearth burst to life once more, crackling away as a mundane fire. ¡°You can play tricks on others, you can poke fun, but never do so when your sole intent is to be mean or cruel.¡± Or if you are deep in your cups.


    He looked up to find all the kids bull rushing him, oblivious to his words. They surrounded him like a pack of wolves, clamoring for his attention.


    Cast some more spells, Kos! Please please please!¡± Salor said, shaking his arm.


    Marisa nodded in agreement. ¡°What you can do is so much cooler then what the Priests can do!¡±


    Kosram frowned. ¡°Were you kids even listening to me?¡±


    Even Vel, quietly cradling her brother, plodded up to him and gently tugged against his shirt sleeve. ¡°Please, Kos.¡±


    He let out a sigh. Guess I¡¯m still not cut out for this.


    ¡°Oh, like I could say no.¡± He began to roll up the sleeves of his loose robes. Just a harmless Dancing Lights cantrip would do. The kids loved it when he conjured numerous orbs of light and juggled them. But before he uttered a single word, the door to the lodge slammed open. Sunlight streamed into the lodge, temporarily blinding Kosram as he moved a hand to shield his eyes.


    Standing in the doorway was Larisa Aden, Mistress of the Aden Lodge.


    Her hands were on her hips as she glowered down at Kosram and the kidlets. She had pulled her hair into a pony-tail and wore a blue and red traditional Vorshan headband. Behind her stood a sheepish man, her husband Denval, carrying a basket of what looked to be vegetables. He and Kosram locked eyes and the older man gave him a small wave.


    Larisa stormed into the lodge, her course set to collide with Kosram. ¡°Kosram, may I have a word?¡± she said, speaking in Orgashk. Her voice was sickeningly sweet, a terrifying tone when spoken in such a harsh tongue, and she gave him a forced smile.


    Kosram felt his blood go cold, just before she grabbed him by his ear and hauled him outside the door.


    ¡ù


    ¡°Kosram, by Iron and Fire, I¡¯ve had it with you! Krashkavag! How an Eldritch Knight could act so irresponsibly is beyond me!¡±


    He just stood there as Larisa roared at him in the street, in broad daylight. With a blue sky above, barely marred by a cloud, it was the perfect Sunday. The streets were still a bit muddy from last night¡¯s rain but the warmer temperatures would hopefully return the street to its former dirt glory.


    But even if the streets were mostly empty, that didn¡¯t mean folk didn¡¯t witness his tongue-lashing. Neighbors peered through their closed blinds to observe the ruckus outside. The few folks that were passing by took one look at this tongue lashing and hurried along as quickly as they could. Kosram could only imagine what they were thinking. Most folk this far south didn¡¯t see a lot of Orcs or half-blooded Uruks like him. Maybe she spoke in Orgashk to at least give them some privacy. He wasn¡¯t really sure.


    Orgashk was a guttural tongue; it grated against the ears and relied very heavily on consonants and bestial growls. To the unlearned, it sounded almost like a rabid wolf was yowling for blood. Also, it had a very extensive list of swear words. It felt like he was back Home suffering one of Pa and Ma¡¯s brutal lectures.


    ¡®You¡¯re lucky no one else knows you¡¯re a Knight. Otherwise, I imagine that the Lady Castellan herself would be hearing complaints about your conduct!¡±


    Kosram opened his mouth to speak but Larisa thrust a finger into his face.


    ¡°Do not interrupt! My axe isn¡¯t close to being sharpened yet!¡±


    ¡°Please, just talk to me,¡± he said, bulling onward anyway. ¡°What happened?¡±


    She began to pace back and forth, not even looking at him as she continued to rant. ¡°There are wild tales flooding the Outerwalls that my lodge is haunted! Even cursed! Ah those blasted cowards, the Milwoads! Ufdak Im! No stones I tell you!¡±


    Larisa stopped her pacing and gave him a baleful stare. ¡°And, those Dura were demanding compensation for risking their lives! Compensation, ha! Like you could contract a curse like some disease! They weren¡¯t willing to pay for any of the food they¡¯ve eaten either! It took Denval speaking to them to at least have them wait until I got to the bottom of this mess!¡±If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    She tugged at her ponytail in thought. ¡°If we are lucky, we can sort out all this out but the damage you have done to my reputation, my family¡¯s reputation, is unforgivable!¡±


    ¡°I can fix this!¡± Kosram reached into his coin pouch. He hadn¡¯t spent that much since his last hunt. There had to be at least two hundred silver pieces in there. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll pay the Dura and I¡¯ll apologize to them and the Milwoads. It was my fault after all.¡±


    Larisa scoffed. ¡°That won¡¯t help. Folk around here have wizened up to you, Kosram. People are tired of dealing with your shenanigans. Doesn¡¯t matter that you hunt monsters and make the woods safer. The Milwoads even threatened to go to the Lawmaster.¡±


    Kosram froze. ¡°You can¡¯t be serious-¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± she said with a wave of her hand. ¡°I talked them out of it. It was easy. No one wants to draw the ire of that woman. But Kos you¡¯ve got to pull yourself together! I haven¡¯t asked a lot of questions since you turned up out my doorstep but¡± - she reached into her apron and pulled out a folded letter - ¡°these keep showing up.¡±


    Kosram took the letter. It was made of fine parchment and was sealed by green wax. There was an impression in the wax - two bull¡¯s horns with an axe between them. He tucked the letter away into a pouch, unopened.


    ¡°Thank you, Larisa. You and your family have been too good to me.¡±


    She stared at him. All the ire she had before had bled away finally, leaving behind a tired-looking woman.


    ¡°Can you please talk to me? Why are you still in Tendorvasht? You finished your service, the Order rewarded you handsomely, and they sent you on your merry way. Why haven¡¯t you gone home yet? I imagine your family is worried sick about you.¡±


    She nodded to the pocket the letter was stowed away in. Gods, why was Larisa so damn sharp?


    ¡°I-um. That is to say¡­.¡± How could he tell her? That he was scared to go home? That the reason he joined up was to get away from home? Would she understand? Would anyone? Or would she just stare at him with utter contempt and loathing like those folks that knew that truth did?


    Kosram closed his mouth. They faded into an awkward silence. Larisa continued to stare at him before just shaking her head.


    Now that he thought about it - he sniffed at the air - something smelled off about Larisa. Most folks didn¡¯t know it, but one¡¯s scent and sweat could be read as easily as a face when it came to emotions. Larisa stank of regret, sorrow, but also resolute in her choice.


    At that moment, the lodge¡¯s door opened once more. Denval stepped outside, stooping so his head didn¡¯t bang against the doorframe.


    He was holding Kosram¡¯s pack and his weapon¡¯s belt. His bedroll had been fastened to the top and, based off how all the pockets were bulging, all of his gear looked to be packed back inside. Even his cast-iron pan, which the Adens had been borrowing for cooking, was tied to one of the straps and hung down the right side.


    Before the door swung closed, Kosram saw the Aden children staring at him with sorrowful eyes. Marisa waved at him mouthing, ¡°Goodbye¡± before it shut.


    Denval strode up to Kosram, staring him in the eye. He handed Kosram his pack and belt before clapping him on his right shoulder.


    ¡°Good luck, Kos.¡±


    Kosram stood there, dumbstruck, as the man fled back inside.


    Larisa let out a deep sigh before speaking. ¡°We want you to leave. We can¡¯t have you living under my roof, threatening our livelihood and also getting our children into mischief. This was the sixth prank in a matter of weeks, Kosram! I can¡¯t believe you indulged them again! Especially after the chicken stampede!¡±


    ¡°But Larisa, I¡¯ll fix this! Just let me apologize to those Dura! By the Gods above and below, I¡¯ll pay whatever compensation they are asking. I¡¯ll give them extra!¡±


    ¡°No.¡± She held up a hand. ¡°Not all problems can be fixed with a bit of silver. I have made up my mind. You reap what you sow, Kos. I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    They stood there in silence. Kosram looked down at the pack leaning against his legs. He strapped on the weapon¡¯s belt, checking his two short swords and daggers. He then slowly reached down, picked it up, before putting it on.


    ¡°I¡¯ll still be in Tendorvasht if you need me,¡± Kosram said. ¡°I¡¯ll send word when I¡¯ve found a place of my own. And coin of course. That won¡¯t stop just because I don¡¯t live here anymore. If you ever need me, I¡¯m your man. And, thank you for everything. Really.¡±


    He took one long look at Larisa, who was pointedly not staring at him, before beginning to walk away.


    ¡°Kos.¡± He stopped and looked back. Denval had returned. He held hands with his wife, looking at her pointedly before nodding to him. Larisa sighed before continuing. ¡°Thank you for everything you¡¯ve done for us. As angry as I am, you aren¡¯t¡­banished from the Lodge. You can still come by once a week to see the kids and eat dinner with us.¡±


    ¡°T-thank you,¡± he said. He turned around fully and gave them a bow.


    ¡°Kos, you are a good man,¡± Larisa said. ¡°But, let me tell you something - you are going to be a terrible father one day. You can¡¯t always indulge the children, no matter how much you want to make them smile. Trust me, you¡¯ll understand one day when you have a child of your own.¡±


    Kosram felt his chest tighten up at her words. Even Larisa, unknowingly, thought he wasn¡¯t ready. But, he forced himself to smile. ¡°Always with the words of wisdom, Larisa. Thank you.¡±


    ¡°And contact your family! It isn¡¯t right to make them worry!¡±


    He nodded, before looking to Denval. ¡°Denval.¡±


    ¡°Kos. Till next week?¡±


    He nodded once more before walking down the street once more.


    ¡ù


    After walking throughout the entire Outerwalls district for three hours, Kosram hadn¡¯t found any inn, tavern, lodge, or home willing to house him.


    A few, such as Grumpy Gordon spat at him when he dared to show his face. The owners of the Overflowing Tankard threatened to send for the Crownsguard if he did not get off their property! Larisa was right; most of these folks wanted nothing to do with him.


    Munching on a piece of warm, freshly baked bread, Kosram found himself staring at the South Gate.


    Like the Innerwall, it was formed from gray stone and rose to nearly twenty spans tall. The massive arch-shaped doors were wide open and would be until the tenth bell of the evening rang.


    Crownsguard in bronze scale mail and plate patrolled the battlements above and manned the gate below. Their round wooden shields bore the Queen¡¯s Crest - a crimson leaf lying upon a sword. Two hounds lay nearby in the shade of a tree, leashed to wooden stakes and overseen by a hooded Houndmaster in black and crimson. Most of the Crownsguard were Dura although a few humans, gnomes, hobbits, and Uruks bore the Crimson robes.


    Although they patrolled the various neighborhoods and boroughs of the Outerwalls district, the Crownsguard presence was thicker here. Some said it was because the Councilors of Tendorvasht had been more vocal in their displeasure at the Crown¡¯s most recent policies. The Crownsguard were like vultures flying above, waiting for anyone to step a toe out of line. ¡°The Eyes of the Queen¡± some called them in low tones and whispers. Kosram took a vicious bite from his bread.


    He hated Crownsguard.


    But, beggars couldn¡¯t be choosers. The establishments of the Innerwalls would be pricey but they would never turn away anyone with coin.


    He strode forward, joining the line, and shuffled along like everyone else. Taking a single whiff told him all that he needed to know. Most of these folks were impatient, angry, and frustrated. The line wasn¡¯t moving too fast then. He groaned inwardly. Gods above and below.


    In the forty minutes, it took him for him to get to the front of the queue, several individuals had been turned away.


    Kosram couldn¡¯t puzzle out the criteria for entry. Some folks, such as a blue-robed Dragonborn with lilac scales and curling horns jutting from his temples, were let in immediate with nary a word exchanged.


    However, when an elf trader was next in line, the Duran Crownsguard shook his head instantly. She tried to protest her denied entry but the Crownsguard before her simple drew his sword and ordered her to leave.


    The elf spat out a curse before turning and storming off. Kosram stepped forward and assumed a parade rest position, hands behind his back and feet shoulder-width apart.


    The Crownsguard, a Duran with long black hair wore the four gray knots of a sergeant, looked him up and down and smirked.


    Kosram looked at himself as well. Although he had cast an illusion to make himself look human version of himself, he¡¯d forgotten to change his clothes. He hated to admit it but his robes were a little worn through. They were beginning to fray at the hemline. And his leather jerkin was a bit dirty as well. He wouldn¡¯t let himself in.


    ¡°What¡¯s your business in the Innerwalls?¡±


    ¡°Looking for lodging, Soldier.¡± Kosram tried to muster as much authority into his voice as possible. If he had to play that card, he might as well play the part.


    ¡°Soldier, huh?¡± The Crownsguard laughed at that. ¡°That¡¯s Sergeant to you, Citizen. Well, I imagine that there are plenty of inns and lodges for you in the Outerwalls. Might I suggest the Aden Lodge? Good food and ale. Warm place.¡±


    ¡°I am looking for lodging in the Innerwalls,¡± Kosram said. He reached towards his neck and pulled free his amulet for all to see. It was a simple bronze disk inlaid with an emerald. The emerald was carved into a sword - the sigil of the Order of the Eldritch Knights. ¡°If I wanted lodging in the Outerwalls I wouldn¡¯t be here, Soldier.¡±


    The Crownsguard paled before saluting him. ¡°M-m-my apologies, my lord! I didn¡¯t know!¡± He bowed low to him. ¡°No one told me a Knight would be arriving!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s alright,¡± Kosram said, nodding sagely. ¡°My visit was a matter of circumstance and was unexpected.¡±


    ¡°Of course! I can send a runner to the Lady Castellan-¡±


    ¡°No need. I do not want to stretch your ranks thin¡­Sergeant. May I enter then?¡±


    The Crownsguard stepped aside and bowed low. ¡°Please. And we welcome you to Tendorvasht!¡±


    Kosram nodded before striding forwards. Urtash would be so proud. He could almost hear his voice bellowing in his left ear.


    Conduct yourself like a true Knight! If you wish to respect your position and deserve the respect given to it, you must act like a Knight! Folk will not listen to a buffon! They want a leader, someone powerful and regal!


    The other Crownsguard and line-waiters eyed him warily, whispering to one another without taking their eyes off of him. One such whisper reached his ears. ¡°But he¡¯s so young! I tell you, that Knight can¡¯t be older than twenty-five winters! Same age as my boy, I would know!¡±


    He hated to play that card. Keeping that aspect of his identity a secret had allowed him to live in Tendorvasht for nearly half a year in relative anonymity. Now, word would spread that an Eldritch Knight was in Tendorvasht. The possibility of the Lady Castellan seeking him out was a possibility now. He had to tread carefully, or trouble would find him. Retired he may be, but duty was always calling.


    Stepping into the Innerwall District was like stepping into another world.


    What surrounded him was a landscape of stone. While the Outerwalls relied heavily on wood and thatch, stone was used in abundance to the point that even the streets were paved. The streets here were wider, allowing for easy carriage access and no traffic jams. Most folk, either the well to do or Bluebloods, wandered the streets in groups flanked on all sides by guards and servants.


    Kosram noticed most of these wealthier Tendorians wearing single gloves on the right hands. He had forgotten that the Tenets were still followed here; not so much in the Outerwalls, it would seem.


    He recalled that the Followers of the Tenets had strange customs, especially when it came to wealth and greed. Hence, no street stalls with merchants hawking their wares openly. It was considered sinful. All decent business was done under the privacy of a roof and away from prying eyes.


    Ducking into an alleyway, Kosram quickly dropped his own illusion spell, shivering a little as his real skin settled back in.


    He returned to the street, politely nodding to a noble party that blatantly stared at him. It was then that Kosram noticed a disturbance further down the street. Most steered clear, visibly going around what appeared to be two Crownsguard talking to someone. They blocked his view of the person.


    The closer he came the clearer their words became, as did the angry tones of their voices.


    ¡°Alright, little one,¡± said the right one. He was a burly human man, at least six spans tall. His head was looked to be completely shaved under his helmet. And, Kosram wrinkled his nose, he smelled like rotting onions. Great, he would have to scrub his nose to get rid of that scent. ¡°Tell us how you got that book! There¡¯s no way a street rat like yourself stole this. Who do you work for?¡±


    ¡°Ease off, Nandor!¡± said his partner, a willowy woman with long black hair. She stood with her left hand resting on her longsword and the other hand gripping the Onion Guard¡¯s shoulder. ¡°She¡¯s just a kid! No need to get your trousers all knotted up.¡±


    She let go of her partner¡¯s shoulder and dropped down on one knee. This allowed Kosram to finally see the source of this commotion.


    It was a little girl.


    Duran based on her stout, more compact figure. Her hair was long and woven into a tight braid that ran down her right shoulder. Her clothes, however, were dirty and ragged. She wore a tunic two-sizes too big, which could¡¯ve been green but was so thoroughly stained it was almost brown. The trousers she wore fit her well enough.


    The little girl hugged this massive book as if it was a prized toy. The leather-bound cover was dyed a deep purple and etched with arcane silver runes. Before Kosram¡¯s eyes, he saw the runes swirl across the cover like autumn leaves caught in a gust of wind. They settled back down but that little bit of evidence confirmed it - that was a wizard¡¯s tome.


    ¡°Please talk to us, miss,¡± said the female Crownsguard. Her voice was on the edge of pleading. ¡°You see, we¡¯ve been looking for a book like this all across the Queendom. We just want to know how you got it and then take it far away. It¡¯s dangerous.¡±


    The girl tightened her grip on the book and pointedly looked away from the Crownsguard. Her eyes were calculating as they scanned her surroundings. This little one was looking for a way out, somewhere to bolt too. But, he swore he saw a bit of fear in them too.


    Kosram finally noticed something odd. The index and middle fingers of both her hands were tied together with bits of string. Suspicious, Kosram looked around conspiratorially. No one paid him the slightest bit of attention.


    He opened his right hand as wide as he could and touched the tips of his index fingers together. Then, using his left, he pushed the right index finger until it formed a circle with his right thumb. He muttered an incantation under his breath.


    Colorful auras manifested before his eyes. A few of the passing noble parties, mainly guards, were now wreathed in rainbow auras. It wasn¡¯t odd to arm your guard with magical tools and weapons. However, focusing on the little girl confirmed his suspicions.


    Both the tome she clutched and her whole body bore magical auras. The book burned with iridescent flame, the aura dancing to and fro to the tune of a non-existent wind. The little girl¡¯s aura was colored a shimmering purple.


    ¡°Illusion magic,¡± he muttered. Kosram let his somatic form drop. The aura¡¯s faded from his vision.


    The little girl still hadn¡¯t responded and the Onion Guard, Nandor, stepped in.


    ¡°Alright, you little piece of horse shit!¡± he growled. ¡°You are gonna talk one way or another. Here with us or back at the Garrison! The Lawmaster and her Interrogators would love to speak to you about how you got this book.¡±


    The little girl trembled but still she did not speak. Her eyes darted this way and that, her body tensed. She was getting ready to bolt. That was the worst possible thing she could do.


    These Crownsguard saw a potential criminal. Kosram just saw a little girl, all alone in the world, with no parents.


    He hurried towards the trio, propelled by guilt or some other force he wasn¡¯t sure.


    ¡°Ursa?¡± he cried out. His hurried pace turned into a trot. ¡°Ursa, that is you!¡±


    What the hell am I doing? He thought as the two Crownsguard turned to face him. Kosram gave them his best-winning smile.

 Chapter 2

    Thrace couldn¡¯t believe how stupid she had been.


    She hated to admit it but maintaining two illusions and an invisibility spell was still beyond her. She sniffled, trying to keep the blood from flowing from her nose and down her face. Just as Papa always said, ¡°All magic comes with a price.¡± The blood would just aggravate the guards more, and they were already on the verge. How could she have known how ruthless the Crownsguard would be, even to a little girl?


    Just as she had prepared to beeline for a nearby alleyway, this stranger intervened.


    ¡°Ursa, that is you!¡±


    The stranger, a half-orc of all things, reminded Thrace of the beggars that used to sleep in Runner¡¯s Alley. They all bore the same look - the look of those that didn¡¯t belong anywhere.


    He wore green and brown robes with a leather jerkin covering his chest. Tied around his waist was what was clearly a wizard¡¯s component belt, with all those bulging pouches, and a warrior¡¯s one too judging by his two sheathed short swords. Underneath the hem that reached to his knees, Thrace saw green trousers and buckskin boots. What completed this urchin¡¯s look was a heavy pack that could contain a man¡¯s entire life.


    His face bore rich dark green skin that was free of any dirt or grime. The robes¡¯ colors were faded and the edges were fraying. Leather bracers strapped to his forearms bore many cuts but didn¡¯t seem dried out or brittle. The boots bore many a repair patch and stitch but were clean as well. His appearance was somehow unkempt but not dirty.


    Thrace looked him up and down. By the Nine Hells, who was this stranger?


    The Half-Orc gave her a reassuring smile, easily showing off his tusks jutting from the corners of his mouth. He approached them confidently, his stride never faltering.


    The human pig, Nandor, stepped forward to meet this stranger. He drew his own longsword. The naked steel was enough to make all onlookers flee for safety.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± Nandor sneered. ¡°This is official Crownsguard business. Best move along.¡±


    ¡°No need for that, Soldier,¡± the Half-Orc said, his tone calm and reasonable. ¡°That¡¯s my Squire you are accosting there.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re Squire?¡± The pig laughed at that. ¡°What horse shit is this? You some kind of Guild Wizard, urchin? Show me a badge or get lost!¡±


    The Half-Orc didn¡¯t react beyond frowning in displeasure.


    ¡°Is this how the Crownsguard conducts itself? It bullies and intimidates its citizens? I expect more from the Queen¡¯s Guard.¡± The pig bristled at his words. ¡°Allow me to explain myself before you rudely disregard me.¡±


    The Half-Orc reached for his neckline slowly, not taking his eyes off of Nandor for a second. He pulled free something, a pendant. Thrace saw the glint of green, an emerald perhaps. Nandor squinted his eyes and leaned in closer to get a better look. His jaw dropped and his face went deathly pale.


    ¡°I-I-I.¡± Thrace felt a tinge of vicious satisfaction. The pig was blubbering incoherently. But why?


    ¡°My name is Kosram Paltos, a member of the Order of Eldritch Knights. We¡¯ve just arrived in Tendorvasht. I had business in the Outerwalls, the Docks specifically, so I sent Ursa on ahead to run some errands and secure us lodging. She hadn¡¯t returned, so I decided to find her myself. Never imagined she would be stopped and threatened by a Crownsguard. Now, I demand to know why you are accosting my Squire.¡± There was a bite to his tone, a hint of anger as well.


    Thrace froze.


    She stared, wide-eyed, at this man. An Eldritch knight - just like the people that killed Papa. The Half-Orc, Kosram, noticed her stare and smiled reassuringly.


    Her mind screamed at her to run. Her heart begged her to avenge Papa. There was a dagger tucked into the back of her trousers. Stolen, yes. Rusty, certainly. Would it be enough? She¡¯d seen their blades dance before, like light given physical form. Surprise was her only ally.


    But instead, she couldn¡¯t move a single muscle let alone take a single step. Her body accepted what neither her mind and heart could - that she was already dead. Thrace just didn¡¯t know it.


    The female Crownsguard stepped forth. She formed a fist with her right hand and placed it upon the center of her chest and stood at attention.


    ¡°My name is Crownsguard Jovash, my lord, and I apologize on behalf of my partner and me!¡± She elbowed him in the gut and the pig hurriedly saluted the Knight as well. ¡°The sus-your Squire was not cooperating, and we had to turn to more forceful methods. Once again, I apologize!¡±


    Kosram nodded in thanks, but his eyes were hard as iron. ¡°I appreciate that but that doesn¡¯t explain why you have accosted her still.¡±


    ¡°Well I there isn¡¯t much I can tell you. Our superiors, the Wardens, are keeping this quiet. But, we had reports that an Archwizard of the Guild and his entire family were murdered. His tome was also stolen. This happened about three weeks ago, in the city of Palson. We have orders to be on the lookout for a particular magical tome described such as this one¡± - she gestured to Thrace - ¡°which fits the description right nice.¡±


    She rummaged about in a belt pouch before pulling out a piece of parchment. ¡°Right, here it is. ¡®Deep purple color, swirling arcane script, etched in silver¡¯. At the very least, my lord, we wish to take it back to the Garrison and have the Guild Wizards inspect it. If it¡¯s a misunderstanding, she¡¯ll have the book back we promise.¡±


    ¡°Of course we will happily cooperate.¡± Kosram gave her a pointed look. ¡°Won¡¯t we, Ursa?¡±


    But once both of the Crownsguard looked away, Kosram gave her a small wink.


    Wait. Was he conning them? Thrace couldn¡¯t help but balk at the thought. It was certainly possible, though. After all, now that she thought about it, how could anyone that looked like that be an Eldritch Knight? But, if he was going to help her out, she wouldn¡¯t take no for an answer. She¡¯d just wait for the perfect moment to make a run for it.


    Thrace clutched the book tighter, looking down at her feet. Play submissive. Act like you¡¯re obedient. That¡¯s what they expect from Squires right? Loyal, obedient, and all that? She then nodded.


    ¡°Well, that settles it.¡± Jovash sounded satisfied. ¡°If you would kindly give us the tome-¡±


    ¡°Hold on a minute!¡± Nandor interjected. His voice shook and his eyes kept flitting away from Kosram. But, after a moment, the Crownsguard summoned up enough courage to continue. ¡°No offense but Jovash but how do we know this Knight is telling the truth?¡±


    Jovash¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°He bears an Emerald Pendant!¡± she hissed at him through clenched teeth. ¡°That¡¯s enough proof but if you insist we can check with the Scribes! There¡¯s a record of every Knight, surely that will exonerate him!¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes,¡± Nandor said. ¡°But what about the girl? You can¡¯t tell me that it isn¡¯t a bit suspicious that he claims she is his Squire? Look at her!¡± He gestured to Thrace. ¡°She¡¯s got to be under seven winters! She¡¯s too young! I think he¡¯s just trying to help out some street rat.¡±A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    ¡°Are you insinuating that I am actively impeding a Crownsguard investigation?¡± Kosram asked, cocking an eyebrow. ¡°If so, you accuse me of treason. I would tread carefully if I were you.¡±


    ¡°No, no, no! Just that you¡¯re¡­intentions are misplaced, my lord. Nothing else. What good and moral man wouldn¡¯t jump to the defense of a little girl?¡±


    Kosram sighed. ¡°There¡¯s an easier way to solve this. We shall prove our credentials to you through skill of magic.¡±


    He reached into one of his belt pockets and pulled out a bit of gauze. He formed two fists, the gauze firmly held in his left one, and slammed both fists together at the knuckles. Kosram began to mutter under his breath, words that Thrace couldn¡¯t understand but recognized - arcane words.


    After a moment, white mist seeped through the gaps of his fists. His entire body shimmered before dissolving into mist and fog, clothes and all. The sudden fog billowed outward, quickly enveloping Thrace and the Crownsguard in its embrace.


    Nandor assumed a battle stance as Jovash drew her own sword. Both of their eyes were wide with fear. Thrace understood - how did one fight the untouchable?


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± whispered a voice. It was a whisper but it emanated throughout the gaseous mass. Thrace heard it all around them, clear and distinct but also quiet. ¡°It¡¯s still me.¡±


    The fog and mist all stilled at once before rushing and condensing into the center. The mass formed a human form and, in an instant, white mist and fog became flesh, cloth, and leather.


    Kosram stood before them, his face impassive. But in his eyes, Thrace saw a joy. It was the joy of doing the impossible.


    Thrace felt her blood run cold. She knew that spell. Papa had used it enough times to avoid Mama¡¯s angry outbursts. If this Half-Orc was a con man, then he was a wizard and a powerful one.


    ¡°Now, that was ¡®Gaseous Form¡¯. A third tier spell. As you well know, a Guild Wizard need only be able to cast first tier. An Eldritch Knight has to be able to cast at least third tier. So, I already qualify as one of the stronger wizards in the queendom. Now¡± - he gestured to Thrace - ¡°my Squire will demonstrate her own skill.¡±


    What?


    All eyes were upon her and Thrace felt her heart stop. Her own gaze locked with Kosram¡¯s. What did he mean?


    Kosram sighed. He raised his hand, pointing to his index and middle fingers. ¡°Undo the string, Ursa. Let the illusion drop.¡±


    So he knew. Ursa grimaced but, did she have a choice? She shifted Papa¡¯s tome so that it was being held in the crook of her right armpit. With a single yank from her teeth, she broke the knot on her left hand, leaving the string dangling from her mouth. She shivered as her real skin settled in. It felt like she¡¯d been dunked in cold water.


    Her hair unbraided itself, growing longer and darkening to her natural black. Her skin shifted to light forest green, and she felt her canines elongate within her mouth. Her clothes remained the same; those hadn¡¯t been part of the illusion beyond adapting them to her smaller form.


    The worse was the height change. The Dura child she¡¯d been masquerading as was at least two spans shorter than her actual height. It wasn¡¯t exactly painful, but her body¡¯s old height reasserting itself left her with a sudden sense of vertigo. Shaking the cobwebs away from her vision, she slowly looked up at the trio of onlookers.


    Kosram had a hand in a pouch, and he discreetly pointed his index finger at her before muttering a single word under his breath. She felt magic settle upon her brow and ears like a well-fitted hat. Kosram quickly whispered under his breath. He was quiet enough that the Crownsguard didn¡¯t react, but she could hear his voice in her ear as if he was right behind her.


    A message cantrip then.


    ¡°Repeat exactly what I am about to say,¡± he whispered. ¡°And follow my lead and my instructions to the letter, if you want to get out of this.¡±


    She nodded.


    ¡°¡®My name is Ursa Caldgren,¡¯¡± she recited, following his whispered words to the letter. ¡°¡®I am a Squire serving under my master, Kosram Paltos. I¡¯m sorry for any trouble I¡¯ve caused.¡¯¡±


    Once she said the words, she felt the magic upon her lift. Kosram removed his hand from his belt pouch and winked at her once more.


    ¡°Let me explain further,¡± he said, stepping forward and drawing the center of attention back to himself. ¡°This was all a test. I wanted to see if she could infiltrate the Innerwall District, undetected. She was to complete her errands and find lodging for us without being spotted. Obviously, she was allowed to use magic, particularly illusion magic as you just witnessed, but it seems that Ursa was unable to overcome her limitations.¡±


    ¡°Why is she dressed like that then? And where is her pendant?¡± Nandor demanded.


    ¡°Part of the test. Stripping her of the symbols of her rank and position would make her task even more difficult. Wouldn¡¯t a common street urchin be regarded with suspicion here? Thus, she would instantly be found out and fail if her illusions failed.¡±


    ¡°Be that as it may, ¡± Jorvash said. ¡°We have a job to do, my lord. We don¡¯t need you to make it more difficult for us.¡±


    ¡°You must understand, it was just to add another degree of difficulty,¡± Kosram explained. ¡°She was to rely solely upon magic. I was hoping that it would push her beyond her limits. It was never my intention to cause problems. Plus¡± - he glared at her - ¡°she was supposed to explain her situation if she was ¡®caught¡¯. Ursa is quite stubborn; she refuses to accept defeat. And for that, I apologize.¡±


    He bowed deeply to them. The two Crownsguard shared a look before Jorvash sighed.


    ¡°Apology accepted, my lord. We will still have to take a statement from your Squire and also take the tome as evidence. If you would come with us to the Garrison I can promise you we can sort this out quickly.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s been a long day. If you don¡¯t mind, Crownsguard Jovash, could you send your Investigator to the Silver Hammer Inn? I assure you that we will be there waiting to answer any and all questions you may have us pertaining to this tome.¡±


    ¡°You won¡¯t be staying with the Lady Castellan?¡± Nandor asked, suspicious. ¡°She would surely house you in much better quarters at no expense of your own.¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t plan to be in Tendorvasht for too long. I¡¯ve been tothis city before and have experienced the Lady Castellan¡¯s...hospitality. I didn¡¯t want to bother her and all that pomp and circumstance can be quite draining. ¡±


    The two Crownsguard nodded sagely.


    Jorvash spoke again. ¡°Well, alright then, my lord. We will send an Investigator to the Silver Hammer Inn within the hour. I promise that it won¡¯t take too much of your time, sir.¡± She then looked towards Thrace before stepping forward and stretching out her hands. ¡°Now then. Squire, may I have the evide-tome, please? I promise we will return it as soon as possible.¡±


    Thrace felt herself instinctively tighten her arms around the tome. Back in her old form, her arms easily embraced the tome. She couldn¡¯t give it up. Papa had died for this! Mama. Mama needed this! She felt a hand rest lightly upon her shoulder. It was firm but gentle.


    Kosram knelt before her and it took all her willpower not to recoil at the sight of that pendant hanging from his neck.


    ¡°Hey, look at me, Ursa.¡± His left hand left her shoulder and extended forward, gently forcing her chin upward, so they locked eyes. His right hand was behind his back and out of sight. ¡°It¡¯s going to be okay. Give them the tome you just bought. I promise you, that you will get it back. Urstash.¡±


    The last word was in Orgashk. Thrace looked like a Half-Orc which was probably why he had spoken in the harsh tongue.


    But, thankfully she was fluent. Papa had seen that she was fluent in all the major tongues. ¡°Urtash¡± was a simple word but carried immense weight. It was both promise and blood pact rolled into one. To any that swore it, their life would be forfeit if they broke such a promise.


    Unlucky for this Half-Orc, she didn¡¯t care about such promises. He was her best option but giving up the tome wasn¡¯t an option. It never was.


    Thrace wrenched her face free and took a single step to flee down that nearby alleyway once more.


    Then, a powerful wave of magic rolled over her, sweeping away all thought of flight, resisting, or anything really. Thrace froze mid-stride. Serenity and calm in the form of fog ruled her mind. All sound that reached her ears was garbled as if she were underwater. All except one sound, no, a voice.


    ¡°Ursa. Give the kind Crownsguard the tome.¡±


    How sweet that voice was. It filled her heart with happiness just from hearing it. Her eyes drifted downwards to the tome in question. How could she say no? Of course, she would do anything for that voice.


    ¡°Yes,¡± she replied dreamily.


    She deposited the tome into the waiting hands of the female Crownsguard. Now, why did the guard look at her funnily? The thought attempted to take root but something swept it away, only leaving the serenity behind.


    As she stood there, the Crownsguard talked with that lovely Voice. Oh, that was the Half-Orc Kosram. How nice a voice he had. It was so pleasant and warm and rang with a clarity that overwhelmed all else. Throughout their entire conversation, the only words Thrace heard were Kosram¡¯s.


    ¡°Yes, she¡¯s perfectly fine. This happens all the time. Don¡¯t worry, she will come out of this fit of hers. Yes, yes. The Silver Hammer Inn. And thank you so much, Crownsguard Jorvash. Crownsguard Nandor. Good day.¡±


    Thrace felt a hand on her shoulder guide her forward, and she plodded forward obediently.

 Chapter 3 (Revised)

    The next hour or so, Thrace couldn¡¯t really tell, was a bit of a blur. It was as if she was underwater, her vision swirling before her unclear and shimmering. Sounds were muted and it felt like her body was sluggish and moving in slow motion.


    They visited a variety of places. She would catch glimpses from a lavish inn, with many servants waiting upon their every need, to a tailor that outfitted her in new clothes! None of which were dresses, thankfully. Both of them wandered down about the Innerwall District before leaving for the dirt streets, the Outerwalls maybe.


    As time passed, Thrace felt the fog within her mind begin to lift. Not enough for her to think differently about her conversation, but she felt herself return piece by piece.


    A voice whispered in her ear, indecipherable but clear as day. The voice rose in volume as time passed until finally, she finally understood it.


    Wake up!


    Through a nearby window, the sun had begun to dip beneath the horizon when Thrace finally awoke.


    She came to suddenly, her eyes widening as sentience and thought surged back into her mind. Thrace jumped to her feet, dropping the cup she¡¯d been holding in both hands. Surrounding her were four kids and one babe, all younger than her by at least several summers.


    The kids jumped, scooting back from where they had been sitting. Thrace shook her head. These kids, all shared the same blue eyes, straw-blonde hair, pale skin. Two boys even looked to be mirror-images of one another -twins. They all stared at her like an audience visiting a menagerie gawking at the latest beast from Izantar.


    Where in the Nine Hells was she? And, what the hells had happened to her? She ran a hand through her hair, mind racing furiously. C¡¯mon, Thrace. Think. You¡¯re smart.


    This place was a lodge, judging by the rectangular shape of the building and it¡¯s large, wide open space. It was cozy, with a blazing hearth at its center and a few folks sitting around it supping on an evening meal of what looked to be soup. Herbs hung from the rafters, the kitchen which lay on her left side was a mess of pots, pans, and only the Gods know what.


    A staircase led to a second floor which consisted of four private rooms for those that had the silver it would seem. Otherwise, folk rested in a communal space that lay about the hearth¡¯s south end beside a woodpile. Several bedrolls, unrolled and awaiting their owners, lay there already.


    Hiding behind that wood pile were two folks. An imposing woman, who could only be the mother of this rabble that surrounded Thrace. She was clearly Dashan, with that She was like a grown-up version of the eldest daughter, or was it the other way around?


    Currently, she was angrily whispering at, in Orgashk, a Half-Orc. Kosram Paltos, the ¡°Eldritch Knight¡±. He cringed under her biting words and wild gestures. At one point she swore that the woman pointed at her.


    That''s right. She''d lost Papa''s tome. Was the key still there? Her hands reached for her neckline. A relieved sigh left her lips when her fingers wrapped around the key. It was warm to the touch. Good, still there.


    It finally hit her. Kosram had Charmed her! That was why she had been so obedient. She remembered now. His right hand had been hidden behind him, hiding the fact that he was forming the somatic forms necessary to cast the spell.


    Anger began to boil within her. How dare he! How dare he do this to her! How dare he make her give up the last piece of Papa she had!


    ¡°Um.¡± The eldest girl tentatively stood up and approached her. The rest of the gaggle hid behind her. ¡°My name is Marisa. Um, are you okay, Miss?¡±


    Thrace had already cast all of her first tier spells for the day. So, she decided to use her favorite cantrip instead. She muttered the incantation, a single arcane word, under her breath. Fire swirled in her open palm before coalescing into a single flame.


    Her eyes locked upon Kosram, and she chucked the bolt of flame at him. It shot forward, quick as an arrow. The bolt was off-course but curved as it honed in on her target.


    The Half-Orc reacted so fast, he was almost a blur. He shoved the woman in front of him out of the way before drawing his shortsword. Just as the bolt was about to make an impact, he slashed it in half with his blade.


    Thrace¡¯s eyes widened as she saw the bolt split into two halves before dissipating. That wasn¡¯t possible. It shouldn''t¡¯ be possible. If he was an Eldritch Knight, however...


    ¡°Hey!¡± The Half-Orc lowered his short sword and raised his left hand slowly. ¡°Easy now! Don¡¯t do anything rash!¡±


    Thrace roared at him, conjuring two more bolts of flame in both hands before flinging them at him.


    ¡ù


    What the hell was this girl doing?


    Kosram wanted to duck and dodge out of the way of her firebolts. Slash Countering was a difficult, dangerous move; one mistake could cost him his life. But, glancing behind himself, if one of those firebolts struck the woodpile or anything else the lodge would go up in flames.


    He would not be responsible for the lodge burning down!


    He slashed twice with his short sword, the incoming bolts splitting in two before the flames¡¯ magic was sucked into the blade.


    His short sword was made of ironwood. A notoriously tricky substance to harvest and craft, ironwood gobbles up magic like a pig scarfing down scraps. It was the perfect anti-magic weapon.


    Good against all manner of magical creatures. No magical wards or healing could stop this blade. It would cut through all of them as easily as it did flesh.


    Granted, Kosram couldn¡¯t cast a single spell while he had it drawn. His Ironwood Sword affected him just as much as it did others. The wards he had cultivated earlier that day were sucked into the sword, leaving him defenseless to magical attack.


    However, it didn¡¯t matter in this situation. He didn¡¯t need to kill the girl - he just had to calm her down or subdue her.


    ¡°Easy now!¡± he said, slowly approaching her. The rest of the lodge occupants had fled to the edges of the lodge or to the safety of the outdoors. Larisa had gathered up the kids and sent them upstairs with fierce admonishments of, ¡°Do not come out till I tell you too!¡±


    Kosram took another step towards the girl.


    Her eyes were wide, nostrils flaring, as she clasped her hands together. The girl bared her teeth at him in a snarl. Magic began to swirl about her, shimmering like starlight. Some of it crackled off of her body like lightning. She was a storm. Powerful. Angry. Unwilling to be calmed.


    She turned the combined fist sideways before flaring her fingers open. All that swirling magic transformed into a pulsing wave of pure force. Small objects around her flew away like a scared flock of birds. The wooden floor beneath her feet split with a sharp crack!


    His eyes widened slightly. That physical force wasn¡¯t from a casting - that was from her own magic. This girl was powerful, powerful enough that her magic permeated the air like hot, muggy summer air. It felt oppressive, overpowering.\


    The cantrip took hold. Her hands became dusted with frost as a blue ray of pure cold shot at him. A Ray of Frost cantrip. Well, good; now the lodge wasn¡¯t in danger of burning down.


    ¡°Hey! I don¡¯t want to hurt a fellow kinsmen!¡± He brought his sword up, angling the flat of the blade at the incoming ray. The moment the ray slammed into it, the ironwood hungrily drank in the magic. He didn¡¯t even feel the slightest bit chilly.


    ¡°Please! I just want to talk! We can sort this out without flinging magic!¡±


    ¡°How dare you!¡± the girl roared. Tears began to leak from the corners of her eyes. She furiously wiped them away. ¡°How dare you! Nine Hells take you! Gods be damned! Damn you!¡±


    ¡°Hey hey! Please calm down!¡± Kosram said. ¡°I don¡¯t even know why you¡¯re angry at me.¡±


    She let out a hollow laugh at that. ¡°Of course you wouldn¡¯t. You didn¡¯t bother to even ask me! You didn¡¯t give me a choice!¡±


    ¡°Well, you were Charmed..."


    The girl let out a sob. "Why did you make me give it away?"


    "What? The tome?¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡± she roared. Another firebolt was chucked at him and he hurriedly slashed it with his short sword. ¡°Why the fuck did you get involved? I was doing fine! I didn¡¯t need your help! Instead, I LOST IT!¡±


    Kosram was barely six spans away from her. He pointed his short sword downward but didn¡¯t sheathe it just in case.


    ¡°I am so sorry that I let the Crownsguard take it. But I did promise you that I would get it back. Urtash, remember?¡±


    She just glared at him. The girl knelt down and quickly snatched up a nearby stick, probably a toy the Aden children had been playing with. She pointed her index finger at herself and Kosram knew he was in trouble.


    He rushed forward but the girl leaped towards him, clearing the gap and swinging the stick in a downward slash. Another incantation was already bubbling at her lips. It was an abysmal attack but her first cantrip took hold of her. A magical aura of white flared, outlining her body with its radiance. The stick, like a bloodhound hot on the trail of its prey, changed its downward trajectory just enough to ensure the blow would land. Kosram growled as he tried to raise his left arm to block. He hated True Strike.


    But this time Kosram was too slow.


    The stick struck him squarely in the face. Stars began to dance across his vision. Gods be damned that hurt! He felt blood spurt from his nose and he couldn¡¯t help but reel backward. As Kosram fell, he saw the stick flare with green flame. Shit.


    The flame leaped from the stick, engulfing him completely in its embrace. If his short sword hadn¡¯t been drawn, he would be burning right now. But, even as he finally completed his descent to the wooden floor, the green flames were sucked into his gluttonous blade.


    Who was this girl? Her casting speed was insane! And how was she not gasping on the floor, on the verge of passing out, from consecutive castings? She could easily take any of the Squires he¡¯d known while he still served.


    He tried to shake the cobwebs from his mind, as a shadow loomed over him. The girl stood above him with a savage grin plastered across her face. She raised the stick again, preparing to bash his head once more.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    Just as Kosram was preparing himself to fully attack the girl, Larisa stepped forward out of nowhere. She reared her arm back and gave the girl a solid slap across the face. The sharp crack of the blow made Kosram inadvertently wince. He¡¯d been in the girl¡¯s place before; Larisa had quite the arm.


    Silence reigned within the lodge. The few lodge-dwellers that remained watched on with wide eyes. Kosram rolled over, dropping his short sword as he struggled to stand. The girl just stood there, the stick held in a loose grip. Her eyes were wide and the right side of her face was red from the slap.


    Larisa, breathing hard, closed her eyes and took a single, deep breath. When her eyes opened, they were hard as iron. She snatched away the stick from the girl, who didn¡¯t resist.


    ¡°That¡¯s it! I¡¯m officially banning magic from the lodge!¡± She tossed the stick towards the woodpile, missing it by a few spans. Larisa cursed but made no move to pick it back up. ¡°Now then, young lady. We have rules here. No fighting, no brawling, no breaking my things, no damaging the lodge, and now, no magic! While you are under my roof, you follow my rules. You got that?¡±


    The girl stared at Larisa before nodding quickly.


    ¡°Good! Now, what¡¯s your name?¡±


    ¡°...Thrace. Thrace Dalwin, ma¡¯am.¡±


    ¡°Good. A pleasure to meet you, Thrace. Now, I want you to go sit by the hearth, quiet and calm as you can be. Go! Now! Shoo! I¡¯ll get you something to eat.¡±


    The girl, remarkably, did as she was told. She did, however, stop and glare at Kosram as she passed by him.


    ¡°Don¡¯t mind him, girl,¡± Larisa said, narrowing her eyes. ¡°I¡¯ll take care of him as well. Don¡¯t you worry.¡±


    The girl nodded before continuing.


    Kosram got to his feet, using the back of his hand to wipe away the blood streaming down his face. He knelt down to grab his sword but Larisa placed her foot on the blade.


    ¡°You will get this back¡± - she dragged the sword towards her - ¡°when you leave my lodge, Kosram. And give me your belt. Now.¡±


    He unbuckled his belt and handed her it without a second thought.


    ¡°Good. Now, join Thrace at the hearth. Not near her mind you. No need to aggravate that poor girl anymore then you¡¯ve already done.¡±


    ¡°I helped her,¡± Kosram growled. Damn, his nose wouldn¡¯t stop bleeding. He pinched it with two fingers. ¡°As I told you, the Crownsguard were this close to hauling her off to the dungeons! Ungrateful brat.¡±


    Larisa slapped him, hard.


    ¡°Reckless, self-centered lout!¡± she hissed. ¡°This is your mess and you are going to fix it! So, sit by the damn hearth or get out of my lodge without your belt and weapons!¡±


    She didn¡¯t wait for an answer as she stormed off towards the kitchen. ¡°Gods be damned Uruks!¡± she cursed.


    Kosram felt his blood boiling. Anger was an easy companion to find. The hard part was getting him to leave. He paced back and forth, taking deep breaths and falling back on his old techniques for control and calm.


    "Ten...nine...eight...seven...six...¡±


    After four cycles, Kosram felt he was stable enough to go sit down by the hearth. But, as he turned to make his way there, it would seem the girl hadn¡¯t calmed down. Not even a little.


    She sat huddled on its eastern side, knees pulled towards her chest and her arms hugging them in a tight embrace. Her face was buried in her knees. She was muttering to herself in - Kosram leaned closer, straining his ears - was that Abyssal?


    The insidious tongue was unknown to him save for a single fact - it, like the Abyss and all demons, was intrinsically linked to fire. Her muttering was like a song and the flame was a beast snared by its melody.


    As the muttering¡¯s cadence rose, the flames grew restless. They would twist, writhe, and grow. It was trying to escape its cage, this hearth. At times, the tongues of crimson would rise, brushing against the ceiling and scorching the hearth¡¯s stone foundation. But when her voice quieted, the flame died down low. Barely lighting the room. Casting shadows to hide how dangerous it was. Was she aware that this was happening? Maybe, at a subconscious level.


    It reminded him of the first time he had touched magic.


    His sister and he had been arguing about something stupid and petty. Zora, in a fit of anger, threw her cup of water at him. With a thought, he had frozen the water and cup in midair. The cup had been frozen in mid-rotation. The spilled water, now solid ice, formed a pedestal upon which it rested. Small streams formed icy branches that sprung from the wooden cup. The act had frightened his family far more than it had scared him. To him, he felt like an artist creating his first masterpiece. Only magic could conjure something of such beauty.


    The few remaining lodge-patrons were like his family. They watched the dancing flame and this girl with morbid fascination. All he saw was an artist, raw and untapped. What would she become if she could discipline herself? What could she do if she had someone to guide her?


    Please, like you could be a teacher.


    He attempted to approach her. Maybe they could still talk and Kosram could get through to her. All the facts he¡¯d heard from the last few hours were fresh in his mind - the murder of an Archwizard and his family, the secretive hunt for his missing tome by the Crownsguard, and this powerful wizard girl with a magical tome. It stank of conspiracy.


    But, when the gap between them was a mere five spans, the girl¡¯s body tensed. She looked back at him and glared.


    ¡°Thrace right? Let¡¯s re-introduce ourselves - my name is Kosram.¡±


    ¡°Stay away from me, Half-Orc,¡± she growled. ¡°Filthy, disgusting, green-skin urchin!¡±


    Kosram raised an eyebrow. ¡°So you aren¡¯t an Uruk then. Good to know.¡± None of his kind would ever dare call another, ¡°Half-Orc¡±. His eyes settled down on her right hand. The index and middle fingers were still tied together. Both fingers oozing blood from underneath their fingernails. The skin was a dark purple, similar to a bruise. ¡°Well, You should undo your last illusion. You¡¯re gonna lose those fingers otherwise.¡±


    Her eyes flickered towards her fingers and then back to him. ¡°I¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± Kosram crossed his arms. ¡°A ¡®Disguise Self¡¯ spell is supposed to only last for an hour. Sure, forcibly holding a somatic form extends that duration, but you may end up crippling those fingers. Just saying.¡±


    He settled down at the hearth, on the side opposite from her. His pack lay where he had left it. After rummaging through it for a moment, he withdrew a healing potion and shook it at her.


    ¡°Catch.¡± Kosram tossed it towards her. The flames barely brushed against it before it landed safely in her clutches. ¡°Use that to treat it.¡±


    Thrace looked at it. Indecision warred within her eyes. Her eyes narrowed to slits before she tossed it back to him.


    ¡°Drink some yourself first.¡±


    ¡°Gods above and below! It¡¯s sealed shut with wax-¡±


    ¡°Do it. Or you can keep your ¡®potion¡¯, Half-Orc.¡±


    Fine then. Kosram pulled free the cork and sipped a little.


    The bleeding from his nose, which had slowed to a trickle, finally stopped. The throbbing pain in his nose dulled slowly before fading away completely. With a single swipe of his hand, Kosram showed her his face.


    ¡°See? Healing potion.¡± He corked it before tossing it back. ¡°Are you always this suspicious?¡±


    ¡°Only to rat-bastards that charm innocent girls. Oh! And claim to be an Eldritch Knight! I wasn¡¯t aware the Order has such low standards!¡± She gave him a once over. ¡°If you¡¯re even a Knight, that is.¡±


    Thrace bit the knot and broke it with a single, vicious yank. Her form shimmered but the change this time wasn¡¯t as extreme as the first.


    Horns, curled like a ram¡¯s, sprouted from her temples. The tusks that jutted from the corners of her mouth shimmered before vanishing. Her ears elongated and gained tips. A tail sprouted from her backside. It wrapped around her torso like a possessive lover. Thrace blinked several times and Kosram saw that her irises were now slits like a cat¡¯s or a serpent¡¯s.


    A tiefling, Kosram thought. He didn¡¯t speak though. Just watched as she dipped her damaged fingers into the healing potion. Thrace let out a sigh and she withdrew the fingers after a minute. They were a healthy, green color.


    She corked the potion and stowed it away into one of her own belt pouches.


    ¡°Hey, please return that potion.¡±


    ¡°Consider it one of many payments for the debt you owe me,¡± she said, giving him a sickeningly sweet smile.


    ¡°Really?¡± Kosram scoffed. ¡°In all honesty, you are in my debt. I saved your skin back there.¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t ask for your help; didn¡¯t want it.¡± Thrace looked around herself. ¡°Wait. Where¡¯s my rucksack?¡±


    ¡°Over here.¡±


    Kosram lifted it in the air, shaking it to get her attention. She quickly got up and stormed over to his side of the hearth. As she neared him, however, his pace slowed until she stopped completely. Kosram let out a sigh before leaning forward and dropping the pack to the ground. Her left hand shot forward, hooking the top strap, pulled it into her clutches, and then she scuttled back to her side of the hearth.


    ¡°It¡¯s all there,¡± Kosram said as Thrace began to yank objects out of the rucksack. She began to lay them before herself, whispering what may have been a mental list. ¡°I didn¡¯t even look through it, trust me.¡±


    The very last thing she took out was a tome. Its cover was a shimmering emerald green, inscribed with golden runes. Based on how the runes shimmered and swirled about the cover, it could only be a wizard¡¯s tome. She sighed in relief, clutching it to her chest.


    Opening it up, she flipped to a specific page and began to mutter an incantation. She raised her right hand, pressing her index and middle fingers together. Her form shimmered once more, the spell removing all traces of her demonic blood and replacing it with Uruk features. The new disguise spell did incorporate her new leather trousers, boots, green tunic, and cloak that he had paid for.


    Thrace then repacked her things, stood up, and headed for the door.


    ¡°Where do you think you are going?¡± Kosram asked.


    ¡°I have nothing to say to you,¡± she said. ¡°I don¡¯t trust Half-Orcs and I certainly don¡¯t trust violators.¡± She spat out the name out like it was the worst of slurs.


    The door swung open, allowing a soft, evening breeze to flow into the lodge. Thrace left, slamming the door with enough force to make the doorframe shudder from the impact.


    Kosram made a move to stand up but stopped. This girl didn¡¯t want his help. Didn¡¯t matter that he had good intentions. She clearly didn¡¯t trust him and, based on how she had single-handedly defeated him, would likely attack him again on sight. He sighed, a common sound tonight, and settled back down beside the hearth. Gods, why did he always stick his nose where it didn¡¯t belong?


    Larisa stalked over, carrying to bowls in her hands. His weapons belt was buckled around her waist; an extra precaution against him stealing them back. She froze upon seeing just Kosram beside the hearth. ¡°Where¡¯s Thrace?¡±


    ¡°She left.¡± He moved to accept the bowl from Larisa but she pulled it away from his grasping hands.


    ¡°You just let your mess wander out the door? Iron and Fire, did you not listen when I told you that this was your mess to fix?¡±


    ¡°Larisa, you said earlier that some problems just can¡¯t be fixed. It¡¯s better than I don¡¯t get involved.¡±


    She narrowed her eyes. With a huff, she thrust the bowl of soup into his hands. The gesture spilled most of the soup over Kosram¡¯s jerkin.


    ¡°Don''t¡¯ go twisting my words, Kosram Paltos. I said, ¡®Not all problems can be fixed with a bit of silver¡¯. Now, go after her.¡±


    ¡°No. I shouldn¡¯t do any more damage,¡± Kosram said. He lifted the bowl to his lips and sipped what remained. Damn, that was good. It began to heat up his stomach just as much as it had heated his chest where it spilled. ¡°What good has it ever done in the past?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Larisa asked.


    Kosram didn¡¯t respond.


    He heard a sigh emanate from Larisa and she sat herself down beside him. She glanced down at the bowl she still held, shrugged, and took a sip as well.


    ¡°From what you told me, whatever you¡¯ve gotten yourself mixed into is big. An Archwizard¡¯s murder? His tome missing? The Crownsguard scouring the entire queendom for it? And, you think the tome she had was that tome?¡±


    Kosram shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s possible. It was definitely a wizard tome, though. No way the book we gave up was normal. It was thick, containing at least six hundred pages worth of spells, I reckon. Plus, it had arcane runes on the cover.¡±


    ¡°Maybe she stole it from a Guild Wizard?¡±


    ¡°Possibly.¡± Kosram scratched his chin in thought. ¡°None of this really makes any sense. I have no idea why the Crownsguard would be searching for the tome outside of Palson. We are at least two month''s travel from the city. I thought it might¡¯ve been her own tome, but she has her own.¡±


    ¡°If that tome was an Archwizard¡¯s tome, I can¡¯t believe you just handed that tome over to the Crownsguard.¡±


    Kosram stared at her, making sure their eyes were locked. ¡°The kid¡¯s life was worth more than some musty tome.¡±


    ¡°She certainly didn¡¯t think so,¡± Larisa said.


    They settled into an uneasy silence, sipping their soup.


    He shouldn¡¯t get involved any more than he already had. The kid could handle herself. But, Kosram couldn¡¯t shake the memory of when he first laid eyes on her. Sure, there had been a little fear in the girl. Thrace kept her composure and a cool head as she looked for a way out.


    But, Kosram had conducted enough interrogations to know how innocents reacted. A pleading look shot towards an onlooker or even a verbal appeal at times. They always looked to a passerby for help.


    Thrace had done none of that. While she was certainly somehow involved, Thrace wasn¡¯t a murderer. He¡¯d seen that knife of hers, but she hadn¡¯t drawn it. In fact, she¡¯d said it herself - she didn¡¯t trust anyone else. She couldn¡¯t rely on anyone else. She was alone in the world. She had simply accepted that fact.


    There was no Graug for her. No one who had extended a helping hand.


    Kosram stood up, placing the bowl down on the ground.


    ¡°You going to finally listen and go after her?¡± Larisa slurped down the rest of her soup.


    ¡°No, I¡¯m just going to go on a walk.¡± She snorted at that.


    He stretched out an open palm. ¡°May I have my weapons back?¡±


    Larisa, without a word, unbuckled his belt and handed it back. The familiar weight soothed his soul like a childhood song. But first, Kosram went over to the hearthside spot that Thrace had been sitting.


    He got down to one knee and closed his eyes. One deep breath and an influx of smells filled his nostrils. It took a little metal concentration to sift through them but - he caught the familiar cinnamon scent. There, now Kosram could track her anywhere.


    He threw on his weapons belt and quickly headed towards the door. Just as he reached for the door ring, another hand grabbed it and threw the door open. Kosram looked to his left at found Denval looming over him. He had thrown a cloak on and held a mace in his left hand. The weapon looked like a toy in his massive grip.


    ¡°Best to always wander the streets in pairs, don¡¯t ya think?¡± Denval put his left hand out to stop the door from closing. He nodded outside. ¡°C¡¯mon, after ya."


    Kosram smiled before shaking his head and walking through the doorway. He felt Denval give him an awkward pat on the back with his mace hand. ¡°Good lad.¡±

 Chapter 4 (Revised)

    Thrace wished she hadn¡¯t come to this disgusting city.


    She¡¯d only come because of Papa¡¯s contact but, now she didn¡¯t even have the tome. She wrinkled her nose as a human man stumbled past her and threw up in the street. Similar carousers sauntered about, looking for another bar or similar distasteful activities. The Outerwalls was a riot of color and fashion, ranging from the conservative, high collared robes favored by Followers of the Tenets to looser, baggier clothing favored by Tendorian commoners.


    Her gaze actively avoided the family of three that wandered in her general direction. The two parents, humans, dotted upon their daughter. She was this pretty little thing, wearing a purple dress and prattling on about her lessons that day. The trio was probably heading to a restaurant for an evening meal. She couldn¡¯t help but feel a pang in her heart as their laughter rolled over her.


    Take a deep breath. Focus. You¡¯ve wandered the streets for a few hours angry. You¡¯ve wasted precious time. She groaned inwardly. What was she going to do now?


    ¡°Wow! You there!¡± A knife-eared elf, probably only a few summers older than her, approached. He wore a sailor¡¯s garb from his brown tunic, rainbow sash, and loose pants. His eyes were leering and roamed her from top to bottom, lingering here and there.¡°Ya lookin¡¯ for any company? Cause, I could provide such services for an, erm, beauty such as yourself.¡±


    ¡°Out of my way, Knife-Ear.¡± Thrace glared at him and pointedly walked around him as fast she could. The sound of hollering and jeers followed her down the street, probably the sailor¡¯s crew members berating the young Sailor for his failure.


    If only I had taken a moment to memorize an invisibility spell! Of course, hindsight was perfect. Too many spells had been cast today. Thrace¡¯s mind only retained three cantrips left and a single casting of ¡°Surge¡±.


    Arcane magic could only be retained in the mortal mind for a limited time. Each wizard - based on her competency, skill, and power - could retain a spell for a certain amount of time and had a limited amount of castings. Whenever either outcome finally came to pass the spell would vanish from the wizard¡¯s mind. The incantation, the somatic forms, the material components required, and even what the spell did would vanish.


    Thus, a good wizard always kept her spell tome handy and studied it daily to ensure it was fresh in their mind.


    A wizard could bypass this restriction through different methods. The most common was to simply open her spell tome and use it as a direct guide to casting a spell. But like all shortcuts, there was a cost. All magic came with a cost.


    She forced herself to continue walking forward, calmly, when a patrol of Crownsguard marched down the street towards her. Don¡¯t shrink away, don¡¯t flee. Just act normal. They passed by without a word. None of them even glanced at her. Thrace let out a breath she didn¡¯t even know she was holding.


    Plus, trying to find a private space to cast would be difficult. She did not trust these shadowed alleyways. Who knew what lurked there? And, casting in public was out of the question. Drawing attention to herself was the least of her troubles. If any Crownsguard saw her casting and asked for a Guild Badge, well. She would certainly end up in a jail cell. That might be the fastest way to get into the Crownsguard Garrison but, what then?


    What had she been thinking? Running away from her best chance at getting back Papa¡¯s tome? That man, that ¡°Knight¡±, had moved like a veteran soldier. Graceful, quick reactions, and competent in even magic. How had he dispelled her magic with a sword swing? How? And for that matter, the Half-Orc hadn¡¯t wanted to hurt her. If he hadn¡¯t been holding himself back, Thrace would be just like Papa - another corpse.


    A man such as that, even if he was a Half-Orc, would elevate any chance at getting the tome back. And, he had seemed sorry about giving it away.


    Don¡¯t forget he charmed you! Her mind screamed at her. He can¡¯t be trusted! You can¡¯t trust anyone like that. You can¡¯t trust anybody.She shivered as an old memory tried to rise to the surface. Thrace quickly surpressed that particular memory.


    Her eyes landed on a nearby piece of trash - a discarded tankard. Some drunkard¡¯s she imagined. Thrace kicked it hard, sending it rolling down the street.


    It smacked into the shin of an unsuspecting leg, one that belonged to a very large, red-skinned hobgoblin. His black hair was long and worn free. He wore rugged leather with a longsword sheathed at his right hip - a mercenary or an adventurer. One could never tell.


    ¡°Ow! Fuckin¡¯ hell!¡± The Hobgoblin''s yellow eyes looked down at the tankard and up to see Thrace watching him. ¡°Did you kick this?¡±


    Thrace didn¡¯t bother to respond. She quickly ducked into a nearby alley. She¡¯d rather take her chances with a lurking terror in the shadows then tangle with a mercenary.


    ¡°Oi! Get back here!¡±


    ¡°Nine Hells take me,¡± she cursed. Thrace broke into a run.


    It was awkward, more of a shamble really. Her rucksack was heavy and she¡¯d never been a runner. She ran blindly, turning randomly and almost bulling into several strangers lurking in these back alleys. Street urchins and one crazy-talker who shrieked when Thrace startled her.


    After about five or so minutes, Thrace stumbled out onto a busy street. Gasping loudly, she leaned over with her hands on her knees. Folk stared at her, giving her a wide berth as they passed by. But - she looked behind herself - it looked like she¡¯d lost the Gob. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    Thrace stood up straight and tall, only to find herself facing a gang of six. Four Dwarfs, Benevoran natives by the gemstones interwoven in their beards, and two humans. All male, all wearing similar dark leathers with their hoods up.


    Her eyes fell upon their belts. Each of them was laden with an impressive array of daggers and swords. One of the humans had bursting pouches full of what looked to be herbs and other odd bits - a wizard possibly.


    One of the dwarfs, with a fiery red beard and dark eyes, looked her up and down a couple of times. He leaned over to one of his compatriots and said, ¡°Hey, Rallin.¡±


    The Dwarf in question, whose hair and beard was pure white, grunted. He was reading a piece of parchment in his hands, squinting hard as if that would help him see the words better.


    ¡°Rallin, what was the description of those folk the Crownsguard were looking for?¡±


    ¡°Give me a mo¡¯, Behdraas,¡± grumbled the older dwarf, Rallin. He reached into his satchel and began to set through it, the rustle of parchment reaching Thrace¡¯s ears. ¡°It¡¯s in here, I promise.¡±


    The other members of this problematic group didn¡¯t stand idle. They began to slowly circle around Thrace, cutting off all of the possible routes for escape. She sighed inwardly. Could this day get any worse?


    ¡°What¡¯s this about?¡± She asked, irritated. ¡°And why the hell are you circling me?¡±


    The ginger spoke up, a bit apologetically. ¡°Sorry ¡®bout this, Miss. You see, me and my friends are in the business of finding people.¡±


    Thrace raised an eyebrow. ¡°You¡¯re all bounty hunters. Or stinking adventurers.¡± Great.


    ¡°We¡¯re just honest folk trying to survive, Miss. And, the Crownsguard put out a bounty for two folks, Half- I mean, Uruks. You just happen to fit most of the criteria for the younger, ah, bounty.¡±


    ¡°And you think that gives you the right to just stop someone in the street?¡± Thrace began to stride forward. Maybe she could bluff her way out and hopefully find an opening. There was no way these men would risk drawing blades among a crowd. ¡°Typical, greedy dwarfs! I don¡¯t have to listen to this nonsense! ¡±


    Two of the dwarfs¡¯ faces darkened with anger at her words. Both looked to be brothers, based on the over-sized noses and dark brown, bushy hair. Those two stepped forward, blocking her way forward before crossing their arms.


    The left one spoke to the Ginger, ¡°Behdrass, she¡¯s got a bit of a mouth on her. Does the bounty say she needs to be caught unharmed?¡±


    ¡°Quench your steel, Graddden!¡± ordered the Ginger. ¡°We don¡¯t even know if this is her! No need to rough up every girl we come across! Rallin, we need confirmation! Now!¡±


    ¡°Got it!¡± The older dwarf finally found the parchment and handed it to the Ginger. The Ginger, Behdraas, held it up, so he could compare it side by side to Thrace. A drawing.


    Shit.


    ¡°It¡¯s her alright.¡± Behdraas jammed the parchment into one of his pockets. ¡°In the alley, nice and quick. Don¡¯t want anyone to play hero.¡± Behdraas zoomed in on her. ¡°You, little lady, got some stones on ya. Assisting in impersonating an Eldritch Knight? You and whoever you were working for are crazy.¡±He nodded to a figure out of sight and behind Thrace. "Pardon me! Sir Knight! We found the one you were looking for!"


    What? She shook her head. Not important. Focus, Thrace. Behind her, she heard the clink of chainmail and thedistinct metal ring of a sword being drawn.


    She turned around.


    The loose ring behind her had been opened a bit to allow a human man to enter. He was dressed ina green and bronze tabard that lay above chainmail. The tabard swirled with arcane runes that shimmered with emerald light. He wore leather greaves and boots, all marked in runes as well. Prominently displayed and hanging from his neck was a bronze disk with an emerald carved into a sword.


    An Eldritch Knight.


    The Knight looked her up and down before clicking his tongue. A wave of energy rolled over her from behind. She felt her body shivered as her real skin settled back in.¡°Dispel Magic¡±, a third tier spell. Not good.


    "Thrace Dalwin," said the Eldritch Knight in a calm voice. "We were planning to let you live. After all, we just wanted your father''s tome. But, you''ve involved yourself with someone we''ve been hunting for some time." He took a step towards her. "Come with us. We have some questions for you."


    So much for bluffing her way out. Thrace sprinted, away from the Knight, opening both palms as an incantation bubbled at her lips. Flame coalesced in both palms, and she chucked both fire bolts at the Ugly Brothers. The bolts streaked forward, trailing smoke. The two Dwarfs she aimed for didn¡¯t even flinch as they drew their short swords.


    The man with the component belt raised both hands and muttered something under his breath. He thrust both hands forward, palms open at the fire bolts. Thrace felt another wave emanate from his hands and sweep over the fire bolts. The moment the flames came into contact with it, they dissipated.


    Luckily,"Dispel Magic" wasn¡¯t a spell that the wizard could just sling about. She had enough time to shoot off one more spell.


    Still running at full speed, she muttered the arcane words and swept her arms down and behind her like a bird¡¯s wings taking flight. Her body shimmered green, and she felt the power flow into her legs. Just as the two dwarfs stepped forward, ready for her, she leapt into the air. Her Surge spell enhanced her upward momentum. She shot into the sky, easily clearing the dwarfs and rising higher than even that.


    For a brief moment, Thrace soared above the crowded street.


    A whistling sound reached her ears. Pain lanced through her shoulder, breaking her concentration. Thrace dropped like a stone, falling fifteen spans. She hit the ground hard.


    Her fingers reached behind her shoulder, feeling the shaft of an arrow and the warm gush of fresh blood. Don¡¯t focus on the pain; get up. If you don¡¯t, they¡¯ll catch you.


    Thrace got up, stumbling forward and pushing her way through the small crowd. Her impact had drawn quite a few folks. Upon seeing her bleeding, however, they reeled back and didn¡¯t stop her. She dared to look behind her and instantly regretted it. The dwarfs were moving fast, shoving their way through. Two of them darted ahead, weaving their way through the crowd easily. One of the dwarfs vaulted over a stall that was nearly as tall as him.


    They were going to catch up. She didn¡¯t have anything in her repertoire that could help her elude escape. Flight was no longer an option - all that was left was to fight.


    Thrace raised a hand, palm open, and wondered,What the hell am I doing?Was she casting a spell? A cantrip? Her mind reached for knowledge it was so certain was there. But all she had left were two cantrips - ¡°Shape Water¡± and ¡°Shocking Grasp¡±. They were recently learned; Thrace didn¡¯t know how many castings she was limited to for each. But neither required an open hand.


    Her eyes widened. Damnit, whatever cantrip she''d instinctively tried to cast was gone - she''d cast it too many times. The body always subconciously remembered what the mind had forgotten.


    At least, "Shape Water" and "Shocking Grasp" worked well together.Thrace began to search for any nearby source of water.

 Chapter 5 (Revised)

    Denval and Kosram walked down the street. Denval was in the front, using his size and bulk to easily intimidate the crowd to go around them. Kosram sniffed the air, trying to keep the trail but it was difficult in a city like this. All of the smells - the refuse, the unwashed bodies, the food, and even the animals - painted this chaotic tapestry that his nose could barely comprehend.


    Kosram froze. He took a deep breath before sighing - he¡¯d lost the trail.


    He tapped Denval on the shoulder. The larger man turned around and nodded before heading towards a nearby alleyway. Kosram followed closely behind him. The two hid in the shadows, waiting and watching for prying eyes before speaking.


    ¡°Do we have any other options?¡± Denval asked.


    Kosram shrugged. ¡°You got any bloodhound fur? Or know someplace we can buy some? If we can find some, I can use it as a material component to cast a ¡°Locate Creature¡± spell. It¡¯s a safer option rather than asking around and throwing a bit of coin.¡±


    ¡°Hmmm.¡± Denval stroked his beard. ¡°I still can¡¯t get used to you casting so much. It feels odd.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve always had Potential, Den. Meeting Graug just changed everything.¡±


    "Yes, he certainly did. Never seen anyone beat you before him. That Orc beat you bloody in front of the squad as a show of discipline. He didn''t like you at all during the Dulvraas mission." Denval shook his head. ¡°I still can¡¯t believe you convinced an Eldritch Knight to train you - a fucking spearman from the Army.¡±


    ¡°Right?¡±


    They shared a few chuckles.


    ¡°But Kos,¡± Denval began. He paused for a moment before bulling onward. ¡°I trust you and all but, I don''t like lying to my family. And you, showing up on my doorstep, bearing the weapons and badge of an Eldritch Knight really put me in a tough spot. I''ve never lied to Larisa before. And, I''ve been lying to her for six months now. It doesn''t...feel good.¡±


    ¡°Aye, I''m sorry, Den.¡± Kosram''s hand rose, gripping the emerald pendant at his neck. ¡°It''s just...I just needed to get away from being ¡®me¡¯ for a while. You didn¡¯t know me after you left the army but. Well, I¡¯m not going to say more than that.¡±


    Denval just simply nodded.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I owe you more than that, Den-¡±


    ¡°No apologies. You saved my life back then. If not for you, my family would¡¯ve lost me. I¡¯m glad my kids get to grow up knowing their father. All I can do is pray that the Crownsguard, the Order, or the Guild doesn''t catch you. There''s nothing but the noose at the end of that future, my friend.¡±


    "Don''t worry, you lumbering oaf. Once we find the girl and I help her out, I promise to vanish like early morning mist. If my suspicions are correct, she''s an orphan. Maybe you and Larisa can take her in?"


    "Help her out?" Denval stared at Kosram, one eyebrow raised. "Kos, that girl is now your responsibility. You told me that you lied to the Crownsguard but also gave them your real name right?"


    "Aye."


    "Then, that girl is now an accessory to your crime. If she get''s caught, I imagine that she''ll be jailed or executed. Impersonating an Eldritch Knight is a serious crime."


    Kosram froze. He hadn''t considered that. But, Denval could always see the whole battlefield. If Thrace was possibly a fugitive, she certainly was one now.


    "What do I do then?" Kosram asked. "Take her with me?She''ll be in danger just by being with me. There are-" He cut himself off. No, Denval''s right. Don''t get anyone else involved. You''ve already got some poor girl all mucked up in your mess.Don''t involve him.


    Denval just shook his head. "Kos, the moment you involved yourself in that girl''s business, you sealed her fate." He laid a hand on Kosram''s shoulder. "But I know you will do the right thing. That''s why Larisa will always forgive you. You''ve got a good heart."


    No, I have a selfish one.


    Kosram opened his mouth to speak further but the sounds of screams and shouts reached his ears. That was back on the street, south of their location. The two locked eyes. No words needed to be shared. They''d trained together and knew how the other operated. That much hadn''t changed in the past three years.


    They parted ways. Denval re-entered the street, shoving his way through. Kosram began to climb the nearby wall. From the roof, he could get a better vantage point.


    It was an easy climb. Even with the thin layer of grime and slime that coated the stone, there were plenty of handholds and protrusions that allowed him to scale up at a fast pace. Once his hand gripped the slate tile edge of the roof, he hauled himself up and crouched down. His eyes looked to the south and he immediately saw the familiar form of Thrace.


    She stood alone, casting magic and fending off three attackers. Kosram sighed. What was she doing? Those men weren¡¯t even Crownsguard!


    The girl, Thrace, was desperately holding her own. She was manipulating an ever-shifting orb of water, almost as large as herself. Her left hand, which formed a fist, gestured and directed the water like a conductor of an opera. The water acted as a shield, flowing through the air to form dome-shaped barriers against strikes and slashes. Her mouth muttered an incantation, non-stop save for taking quick breaths of air. Her right hand, forming a claw, crackled with lightning.


    Kosram couldn¡¯t help but let out a low whistle.


    She was maintaining two cantrips. The first, ¡°Shape Water¡± was being maintained through holding the somatic form. ¡°Shocking Grasp¡± however was being continuously cast by holding its own somatic form and by her continuously uttering the incantation. You would be hardpressed to find a wizard that could do that. Most Guild Wizards were second tier and weak in comparison.


    Usually, the water wouldn¡¯t be enough but, her right hand helped create a formidable defense. When the water countered a blow, she ensured that her lightning claw touched the water. The lightning would course through it, sparking and throwing off a blue light.


    One of the Dura was committed to his swing. The sword entered the water shield and the electricity coursed down the metal blade to the wielder. The Dura yelped! He reeled backward, letting go of his sword, body crackling with lightning. His hair stood on end.


    Thrace never stopped moving. She directed the water to her left to intercept another sword slash. The water formed into a solid wall that stretched all the way to the ground. This time, she didn¡¯t empower the water with lightning. As the blade entered the water, she opened her fist briefly before closing it once more.


    The water froze. The Dura found his sword¡¯s momentum gone as the blade was stuck in what looked to be about six fingers of ice.


    Seeing an opportunity, Thrace dashed around her ice barrier. Her right hand shot forward, aiming for the Dura. The Dura cursed, letting go of his stuck longsword before throwing himself backward and just out of Thrace¡¯s reach.


    ¡°Well, we found her,¡± Kosram muttered.


    He scanned the street, noting the positions of her attackers and searching for any Crownsguard. No Crownsguard, good. But, there were three more men, two humans and one dura, dressed like Thrace¡¯s attackers. These other three were allowing for bystanders to run past them. One even took a moment to assist an elderly woman until another, possibly a son or grandson ran forward to take over for the Dura. One of the humans had drawn a book from his satchel and was hurriedly flipping through the pages. A Wizard.


    Wait, there was another. A man, human, stood behind the line of attacking bounty hunters. His blade was out but it seemed as if the human was waiting for an opening. Kosram froze when he realized the man was dressed in a green and bronze tabard. Could it be?


    He opened his right hand as wide as he could and touched the tips of his fingers together. Then, using his left index finger, he pushed the right index finger until it formed a circle with his right thumb.


    He muttered an incantation under his breath.Theman was instantly lit up in a bonfire of rainbow color. Kosram dropped the somatic form; well, that confirmed it - that was an Eldrtich Knight.


    Kosram began to feel something burn within him - anger intertwined with vengeance.


    Six highly-skilled, well-coordinated hunters by their movements led by an Eldrtich Knight. Difficult, but manageable. Luckily, the clearly magical conflict was making all bystanders flee for safety. With the amount of magic being flung around today, Kosram half-expected Guild Inquisitors to start sweeping through the city for the perpetrators.


    He reached into one of his pouches and pulled out a bit of copper wire. Cupping his hands together, he raised it to his mouth and muttered the incantation. As the copper wire turned to ash within his hands, he pointed downwards at Denval, who was wading his way through the flood of folk fleeing.


    Kosram felt the magic, like a helmet, settle over his head. Denval shook his head a bit. Good, the magic had taken then.


    ¡°The girl is fending off three assailants right now,¡± Kosram whispered. The magic would allow for Denval, despite the distance, to hear his voice right in his ear. ¡°The remaining three are trying to find a good angle for a ranged attack of some sort or attempting to clear out the crowds. Try not to kill them if you can manage it. I¡¯ll try to put the remainder to sleep then we must converge on that Eldritch Knight...You can reply to this message.¡±


    After a moment, Denval replied back.¡°This is strange...but I hear ya. I¡¯ll keep casualties to a minimum.¡±


    Denval began to charge forward. Each thud of his feet resounded throughout the street, loud enough that Kosram could hear it from his perch. The huge man moved to engage the Wizard.


    The Wizard, whose eyes were glued to the open spell tome in his hands, looked up just in time to see Denval¡¯s fist collide with his face. It was a solid blow. The Wizard reeled from the blow, blood flying from his nose and the tome slipping from his fingers. Once the Wizard was prone on the ground, Denval stood over him and punched him twice in succession. A bit of the stone street cracked from the impact of both blows.


    The Wizard lay on the ground, not moving. Unconscious or dead, the enemy no longer had magic.


    The last remaining human and one of the Dura, both who had been clearing the crowds, noticed their compatriot had been taken out. Both drew steel and charged to engage Denval. The man just grinned, drawing his mace for the first time, and moved to meet them. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Thrace was holding off her own attackers but, Kosram narrowed his eyes, she wasn¡¯t exerting that powerful magical aura like before. Her magic was running low. Kosram imagined she didn¡¯t have many spells left if any at all.


    A thrown dagger streaked toward her, getting past her defenses and cutting her on her arm. Kosram felt his eyes darken.


    Time for him to get to work.


    He rolled up both of sleeves and turned over his left forearm over. Arcane script shimmered with silvery light upon his bare skin. For a moment, they wavered and shifted about like flowing water but they focused under his scrutiny. As he read the text, the spells'' knowledge slid back into his mind and understanding bloomed within him. Gods, he remembered now why he hated this spell.


    Drawing a knife, he made a long gash in his right forearm, allowing the blood to flow freely. The arcane script flowed away from the knife, staying on the uncut portions of his arm. Rivulets began to flow down his arm, forming droplets at the tips of his fingers before dripping over the rooftop.


    Kosram began to utter the arcane words. His left hand began to fold his fingers inward one by one, starting with his pinky and ending with his thumb. Once it had formed a fist, he opened his hand and repeated the order once more.


    As he did, the blood began to stop flowing downward and started flowing upward. The rivulets rose into the air before him, forming an orb of crimson before him just like the one Thrace had of water. It was a peculiar sight, one that would make a man question his own sanity. It was also very uncomfortable, feeling your blood be drawn from your own body. Like a vampire draining him dry.


    Once he had an orb about the size of his head, he held the spell¡¯s somatic form. His voice rose, the incantation reaching its conclusion. He freed his index finger and pointed down at Thrace and her assailants and twisted his hand until the closed palm was facing the sky.


    The assailants had smartened up. Two had fallen back to assault her with daggers from afar as one Dura, who had this red beard, circled around her trying to find an opening. Thrace had unfrozen her water and was now completely on the defensive.


    The orb of blood before him dissipated into a crimson mist. The mist, driven by a wind that did not exist, flew downwards toward the street. It began to ensnare Thrace and her assailants, obscuring their surroundings and enveloping them completely.


    Straining his hearing, Kosram could hear coughing, the clang of steel meeting stone, and the thud of bodies hitting the street. After a few moments, the crimson mist dissipated, leaving behind four bodies. None of them were moving.


    The Eldritch Knight was still standing. Strong magical wards werestandard procedure. Eyes wide, he scanned his immediate surroundings before turning his attention to the rooftops.


    Denval was cleaning up things on his end. He swung his mace downwards, smashing through the sword-block and slamming it into the remaining assailant''s shoulder. The Dura cried out, dropping his broken sword. His cry was cut off as Denval soundly punched him in the face. The Dura joined his other compatriots on the street, unconscious, bloody, and bruised.


    He reached into a pouch, pulling out a piece of cloth and used it as a tourniquet at the middle of his upper arm. Bandaging would have to wait for later. It was time for Kosram to join the fray.


    He leaped down to a lower rooftop, rolling when his feet hit the tiles. He came out of the roll into a slide that angled him down towards the edge of the roof. Sliding off of it deposited him atop the canvas roof of a stall. The fabric strained with his weight but managed to hold.


    Kosram flipped himself forward, landing on his feet with both of his blades drawn before trotting towards the Eldritch Knight.


    The Knight had noticed his descent but made no move to engage. Instead, a savage grin decorated his face as the Knight fell into a battle stance, the blade wielded with both hands and the sword pointed skyward.


    "Kosram Paltos, I assume," the Eldritch Knight said. "You are a very hard man to find."


    "Not really," replied Kosram. "You lot are just slow. I have to drop my name and impersonate one of you to get your attention." He spun his short sword in his hand. "It''s pathetic really."


    The Knight sneered at that. "No matter.I am here now. Tonight you will die and I will have avenged my fallen brothers and sisters. Your blades will make a fine addition to my collection."


    At this point, Denval had caught up and was flanking the Knight. Eye''s narrowed, the Knight turned to Denval.


    "Leave now, Citizen. If you do so, I promise that you and everyone you care about will not meet Death this very night."


    Denval looked towards Kosram.


    Kosram sighed. "Sorry, old friend. My advice, don''t trust him. He''s seen you with me. No matter what, you and I are bound."


    Denval shook his head. "By Iron and Fire." The huge man began to walk towards the Knight.


    The Knight fell back into a defensive stance. "So be it. After tonight, all will know that Sir Verdashas slainthe Knight''s Bane! And, with your death, the stain upon the Order''s honor will be wiped away." The Knight suddenly spun around, pointing a finger at Kosram and shouting an arcane word.


    Purple lightning crackled at the fingertip before streaking towards Kosram in a flash. He was ready for such a tactic. Kosram yelped as he rolled out of the way. The stall behind him exploded, wooden shrapnel and bits of fruit flying in all directions. The Ironwood sword had fallen from his grip, skidding forward towards Verdas.


    Kosram got back to his feet just as he heard Denval roar. His friend unleashed a flurry of strikes upon the Knight. The Knight dodged and ducked. He was like flowing water, untouchable and ever-moving.


    When the mace finally did impact, an invisible barrier flashed with yellow light. The Knight grunted in pain but didn''t seem nearly as wounded as he should''ve been.A "Blade Ward".


    With his free hand, Kosram formed a claw with his index finger, middle finger, and thumb. As he charged forward to aid his friend, he used the hand to scoop up a bit of water from a nearby muddy puddle. The water began elongate in shape, forming a dagger before freezing in his hand.


    He flung it at the Verdas. The throw shot forward with more force than should''ve been possible, honing in on the Knight. The Knight didn''t even turn to acknowledge the blow. Just as it was about to impact into a sliver-sized opening in the armor at the neck, a shimmering shield of yellow energy bloomed into view. The knife slammed against it, exploding into a myriad of ice shards that shot upward, downward, and to the left and right. None hit the Knight.


    Kosram''s foot somehow collided with his ironwood sword, making it skid forward until it stopped to lay at the Eldritch Knight''s feet. The Knight glanced downward before shooting a bemused smirk at Kosram.


    "How clumsy you are, Kosram," he sneered.


    Denval roared, swinging his mace in a downward strike. The Knight dropped his own blade. His right hand caught Denval''s wrist and his left hand, forming a fist, slammed into the larger man''s chin. As Denval''s face reeled back, the Knight spun around while maintaining his grip on his opponent''s wrist. Denval was whipped around in a circle before being flung away into a nearby stall.


    The stall collapsed from the impact, the canvas roof fluttering down to cover Denval''s still form. Verdas let out a loud guffaw.


    Kosram ceased his approach, reaching his free hand into one of his component pouches. His fingers wrapped around the ball of bat guano and sulfur powder that he knew was in there.


    C''mon, you bastard,he thought grimly,pick up the sword. I know you want to.


    Verdas turned to Kosram, gesturing with a "come-hither" motion. "What? Where was that bravado from earlier? By the Gods, did you lose all courage now that the battlefield is equal? My, my." He shook his head. "One wonders how you beat all of my compatriots."


    Kosram sheathed his short sword, using the now free hand''s fingers to trace imaginary circles in the air.


    "Oh we can''t have that." The Knight bent down, reaching for the sword. "You really shouldn''t rely upon magic so heavily. No matter what, the speed of a blade will always triumph. And, it will be poetic to slay you with your own blade."


    The Knight''s hand wrapped around the hilt. He gasped as the air was filled with a sound akin to glass shattering. There were several flashes of yellow light. Verdas dropped the sword like it was it was a disobedient dog that had bit him, reeling backward. But, his motions were now sluggish in comparison to before.


    The Ironwood sword had done its work. The Ironsword''s magic eating properties also affected magical items worn and in physical touch with the wielder. And, anEldritch Knight''s armor, weaponry, and gear were all heavily enchanted to give them an edge. Physical enhancements, wards, and other spells were engraved. Kosram had found that most were so accustomed to the boosts that they felt sluggish without them.


    More importantly, the Knight was now defenseless to arcane assault.


    Kosram let out a savage grin as he began to chant the incantation. He pulled his hand from the component pouch, turning the fist so the palm faced the sky. The Knight turned to run. When the final word was uttered, Kosram opened his fist. The bat guano and sulfur turned to ash, fading into the air.


    A streak of light shot from his open palm, soaringthrough the air before slamming into the Knight''s back. The air began to shimmer around Verdas. A single bead of sweat ran down the man''s forehead before flame blossomed from the point of impact, expanding outwards. It grew into a massive inferno, its heat so great that Kosram felt his body buffeted by superheated winds.


    The Knight was screaming, his form a shadow in the inferno as he flailed about. After a few moments, the shadow fell to the ground followed by the thud and clang of metal. The inferno faded instantly, leaving behind scorched earth and hot air.


    Where the Knight stood now lay a charred corpse in a pool of half-melted metal slag.


    "Thank the Gods above and below." Kosram smiled. Victory always tasted sweet.


    In the distance, he could hear the ringing of bells and shouts of, "Make way for the Guard!"


    Kosram fell to one knee, taking a moment to catch a breather when he felt his vision go blurry for a moment. Losing that much blood was never good, willing or otherwise. He slapped himself a few times before jogging over to Denval. The large man was slowly getting to his feet, shaking his head.


    "Den, you alright?"


    Denval grinned, his teeth a bit bloodstained. "Haven''t been throttled so easily since I was a kid. Those Knights are tough." He nodded to the still form of the girl. "I''ll carry her. You can barely stand."


    "No no." Kosramshook his head. "I''ll take care of her. You need to get out of here. If you get caught, Larisa and the kidlets would never forgive me."


    Denval looked him up and down, worry plainon his face. "Can you manage? You look ready to pass out, Kos."


    "I will. What other choice do I have?" Kosram beckoned with his hands. "Please, I can''t let others suffer for my actions."


    Denval hesitated for a moment beforenodding.


    "Where will I find you?"he asked.


    "You won''t. I will disappear. If we see each other again it won''t be for a couple of years friend. Once this business is dealt with, I won''t return to Tendorvasht for some time."


    Denval nodded. He patted Kosram on his shoulder. "May the Gods watch over you, my friend. May your blade stay sharp and your wits even sharper."


    "To you as well. Tell the kidlets and Larisa goodbye from me."


    "I will."


    The duo parted ways. Denval sprinted down the street before ducking right and disappearing from sight. Kosram jogged over to the girl. Since she was passed out, the illusion had faded returning her to her real, tiefling form.


    He lifted her gingerly into his arms before running back towards the alleyway. He''d spied a sewer grate near there. With luck, it would be unlocked. This was the Outerwalls. The sewers were the most secure method of travel if one did not want to be detected.


    Luckily enough, his hunch was correct. The sewer grate opened outward, revealing a descent down into darkness and a rusty iron ladder. Slinging the girl over his shoulder, Kosram gingerly made his way down the ladder a couple of spans before closing the sewer grate above him. What little light there was dimmed even more, though he didn''t need it.


    As an Uruk, he had darkvision. His surroundings, colored in various shades of grey, revealed an empty sewer below him. There were two stone walkways flanking the flowing waterway. Everything was coated in slime and - Kosram wrinkled his nose - don''t even get him started on that stench.


    When he finally stepped down onto the sewer floor, Kosram checked his arm. It was still bleeding and he felt a bit woozy. Wait, his healing potion was in Thrace''s possession. He gently put her down on the ground and, after a moment''s hesitation, Kosram began to search through her belt''s many pouches.


    In one of the left ones, Kosram found the healing potion. Uncorking it, he drank it down greedily. Instantly, Kosram felt his vision focus and his body grew strong again. Then, he heard voices above him.


    "Search the area! See if there are any sewer grates! Find out if any have been disturbed! All that disturb the Queen''s Peace must be dealt with!"


    No time to stop and take a breath.


    Kosram looked at the wall off to his right, reading the script there. There were two arrows with two names written in Common, Duran, and Elvish. The left arrow said, "Innerwalls", and the right arrow said, "The Docks". The Crownsguard had surely already searched his rented room at the Silver Hammer.Well, he had rented three more rooms at three different inns in the Innerwalls. That would muddy the trail a bit he imagined.


    But, the city was becoming too dangerous. The Crownsguard would put the city on high alert. The Order would send more knights. His eyes lingered on the girl in his arms.Denval''s words rang in his mind.


    Kos, the moment you involved yourself in that girl''s business, you sealed her fate.


    It was time to leave Tendorvasht. But, he was going to keep his promise to this girl.


    Kosram sprinted towards the right.

 Chapter 6

    Thrace felt the most peculiar feeling as her eyes half-opened to a stream of sunlight. She felt...peaceful. For nearly the past month, she¡¯d slept upon beds of leaves and questionably empty caves in the forest. She¡¯d huddled in dark alleyways and in the sewers. When strangers, either urchins, beggars, or criminals of the seedy underbelly, approached only the show of magic kept them at bay. Her only companion had been the hunger that rumbled in her belly.


    But now, she was warm, her stomach felt full, and it was quiet. A contented sigh left her lips and she snuggled down into her soft blanket.


    Wait. Her eyes flashed open. She didn¡¯t have a blanket, let alone one that was soft. Rising from the bed, no bunk, Thrace found herself in an unfamiliar room.


    It was a cramped cabin of some sort. As her mind began to awaken, Thrace could feel the cabin sway and rock. Was she on a ship? It must be. Made of wood, this cabin contained a second bunk that lay on the wall opposite of her. A small window sat above the opposite bunk, with the first fingers of sunlight creeping in. Looking up, Thrace found a menagerie of peculiar things hanging. Potted plants, pots and pans, and even a spice rack hung from a complicated weave of ropes and fishing nets. A small round table dominated the center and there was a door on the wall off to her left.


    And, sitting at the round table, sipping a cup of something hot and steaming, was a man with green skin.


    ¡°Papa?¡± she whispered. It couldn¡¯t be. It wasn¡¯t possible. But, Thrace couldn¡¯t help but feel a part of her yearning, hoping, that it was true.


    But, as the drowsiness fled her vision, she saw that it was that Half-Orc, Kosram.


    He wore a set of dull-blue robes trimmed in bronze thread. The collar was high, almost reaching up to his jawline. His hands were covered in simple white gloves. There was no component belt, no sign of his weapons. If she hadn¡¯t seen his face, she wouldn¡¯t believe that this man was that disheveled urchin that had rudely burst into her life. He looked like a Follower of the Tenets, who were more common then thieves in Tendorvasht.


    One of the sleeves of his robes was rolled up. Kosram was staring intently at his inner forearm. There was no book or scroll, although his lips mumbled words and his eyes darted from left to right. Was he reading something?


    And for that matter, how had she gotten here? What had happened?


    Thrace closed her eyes. She wrapped the blanket around herself, as did her tail. Rotting hell. Thrace focused upon the unwanted appendage, making it unwind itself from her body. Gods she hated when it did that.


    It slowly came back to her. She...she had been fighting some bounty hunters. She¡¯d tried to escape but, she¡¯d been shot! Her right-hand groped her left shoulder but only felt smooth, unmarred skin. But it hadn¡¯t been a dream though. She had used her remaining cantrips to fight back against three of them. There had been six, but only three had caught up to her. Right? They had been overpowering her and then...nothing.


    Had Kosram saved her? Why? She¡¯d run away from him. Why go to all that trouble?


    Then, that bounty hunter¡¯s words rose to the forefront of her mind - Assisting in impersonating an Eldritch Knight? You and whoever you are working for are crazy.


    She froze, eyes widening.


    He finally noticed that she was awake and staring at him. Kosram unrolled his sleeve, covering his arm. The wooden cup was set down on the table. He slowly stood, hands open and palms facing her.


    A spark of panic coursed through her whole body. Thrace wanted to run, flee.


    But that little voice in the back of her mind spoke, just like the Gods did to heroines in the stories. Instead of a god, it was Papa¡¯s voice, calm and soothing.


    Stop, take a breath, and consider the facts, Little Clover. Don¡¯t always go rushing into things. Remember to look about at the woods, not just at the town at the end of the road.


    Thrace sighed. But, Papa had always been right. This Half-Orc, Kosram, was confusing. She didn¡¯t know enough. That meant only one thing - time to make a list. Lists were useful; lists were necessary. Without them, life was just too chaotic to manage.


    She based her lists off of her favorite game - Rot or Not. It was a simple game, you and another would choose a topic and list off different things in that topic. On the count of three, both participants would say whether the thing was ¡°Rot¡±, or bad, or ¡°not¡±. It was a good way to learn the truth about another and to just learn more about them. At the end of her list, she would add up the ¡°Rots¡± and the ¡°Nots¡±. Whichever one numbered the most would determine whether something was good or bad.


    Alright. The topic or question this time - was this Kosram someone she could use? Well, the first thing that came to mind was that because of him she¡¯d lost Papa¡¯s tome. Definitely not, so definitely a ¡°Rot¡±. Secondly, he¡¯s very dangerous. That was actually both a ¡°Rot¡± and a ¡°Not¡±. Yes, he may be dangerous and thus may harm her, but such a man could assist Thrace. And she acceded that he hadn¡¯t actually harmed her yet.


    Kosram could also cast high tier magic. Any wizard that could cast third was among the most powerful in the Queendom. Maybe she could learn from him. There were spells in Papa¡¯s tome that she could not make sense of nor cast. With his help, that might be possible.


    Don¡¯t get ahead of yourself, Thrace. One thing at a time.


    Thrace took a deep breath. Don¡¯t panic. Don¡¯t do anything rash. You haven¡¯t finished the list yet. Only then could she truly make a decision.


    But, she would not be controlled again. She was familiar with his charm magic (which she marked as a big ¡°Rot¡± on the list). If he tried to do anything to her - her left hand formed a claw under the blanket as the incantation for ¡°Shocking Grasp¡± rose to fill her mind - Thrace would be ready.


    ¡°You¡¯re awake,¡± Kosram finally said. ¡°Gods be praised. Um. How do you feel?¡±


    ¡°I-I-I.¡± Thrace took a deep breath and opened her eyes, before speaking. Focus. Calm down.¡°I feel good.¡±


    ¡°How¡¯s that shoulder? I hope you don¡¯t mind, but I used the health potion you took...well.¡± He paused before continuing. ¡°I used it to heal your shoulder.¡±


    ¡°It feels good,¡± Thrace said slowly, rolling the shoulder. ¡°In fact, it feels great, just as if it had never happened.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± Kosram nodded a couple of times. ¡°Good.¡± A look of relief was on his face, but he kept his distance.


    Thrace waited for him to say something, anything further. But nothing else came. Just silence. He just stood there. Eventually, Kosram¡¯s gaze drifted downwards to the floor. Thrace found her own eyes darting between the window and the door. Could she make it to the door? Although, her track record proved that trying to run would not work out so well.


    No. Wait. Just wait.


    Finally, after what seemed like ages, the Half-Orc strode toward her. Thrace began to mutter an incantation under her breath and her body tensed. If she needed to, she was ready to strike.


    Kosram froze, putting up his hands once more. ¡°Hey. I just wanted to cast an illusion spell upon you. Your ¡°Disguise Self¡± spell dispelled days ago. Plus, I imagine that most of your spells have vanished from your memory as well. Since you seem to like masquerading as an Uruk¡± - he placed a heavy emphasis on that term - ¡°I am willing to cast an illusion upon you. With your permission first.¡±


    Thrace narrowed her eyes. Well, it couldn¡¯t hurt. She would recognize his Charm magic if he tried to do anything on the sly.


    She nodded.


    Kosram¡¯s hands rose in front of him as fists, save for the pinky and thumb fingers. Those remained stretched outwards. He touched the tips of all his pinkies and thumbs together forming a diamond shape with his hands. He spoke aloud an arcane incantation, one that she was unfamiliar with. It was a lengthy incantation, going on for at least two minutes. But, when he uttered the last word, he broke the diamond shape.


    A shimmer of purple magic danced away from his hands. It raced towards her, quick as a lightning bolt, and slammed into her body. Her vision went fuzzy for a moment but it refocused after a moment. Thrace reached down under the blankets, her hand feeling for her backside.


    There was no tail. Good. That was a ¡°Not¡± in his favor. Kosram earned a second one for asking for permission this time as well.


    Also, Thrace noticed that she could visually perceive this illusion. He had recreated her clothes, dressing her in trousers, white gloves, and a long-sleeve shirt. Thick wool socks hugged her feet. The collar of the shirt was high, just like his, and was done in a similar style as the Followers of the Tenets. Looking at Follower garb made her shudder a little inwardly. Ever since the Hall of Erudition, she¡¯d become way too familiar with this particular style of dress.


    Kosram took a step backward, eyes glancing over the parts of her body not covered by the blanket, before nodding satisfied. He gestured to something behind and above her. ¡°There¡¯s a mirror hanging on the wall behind you. I take pride in my craft but, if I did anything wrong or forgot a detail please tell me. I¡¯m not too familiar with Follower garb so, bare with me.¡±


    Thrace slowly turned her head behind her, unwilling to take her eyes off of Kosram. But, the moment the mirror came into sight, she couldn¡¯t help but focus on scrutinizing her appearance.


    It was a flawless recreation of the illusion she had worn when they had first met. From the tusks jutting from the corners of her mouth to the complete lack of tiefling features, Thrace was once more a Half-Orc.


    But the most remarkable part of this illusion was the tactile feel to it. She could feel the tightness of the collar around her neck. Her shirt and trousers had that oh so familiar stiffness that made Thrace almost feel like her entire body was being constricted by a Sothrysian snake.


    This was a level of illusion magic she could only dream of casting. Casting illusions on others? At least, third tier. Maybe even higher. Yet again, one more ¡°Not¡±.


    ¡°How¡¯d I do?¡± He waited for some form of confirmation but, Thrace just stared at her appearance. A long sigh left his lips. ¡°Well, I¡¯m going out to get some food from the cook for you. Then...we can talk.¡±


    He exited out the door, slowly closing it behind him. Thrace waited, straining her ears listening for the click of a lock or the scrap of a turning key. Nothing. The door was unlocked. His footsteps faded away before being lost in the creaks and groans of the ship.


    She scrambled out of the bunk, doing a quick search of the room. Underneath her bunk was her belt, her bag, and a spare cloak. Thrace quickly unpacked her bag; all of her things were in there. Even her spell tome.


    She checked her belt as well. She was running low on components but, besides the healing potion, it looked like nothing had been taken. Thrace let out a sigh. Another ¡°Not¡± then.


    Checking underneath Kosram¡¯s bunk, she found his own pack and his belt stashed under there. His short swords were unattended to as well. Thrace felt her fingers itch, but figuring out why his swords were special wasn¡¯t important right now.


    Looking through the lone, circular window - one that actually had glass, wow - Thrace saw a second ship moored beside the ship she was on. Seagulls flew above, riding upon the morning breeze. It was early morning still but, sailors were already out and about. Moving cargo, performing maintenance on their ships, or stumbling back to said ships after a night of carousing. Off to her left, she saw the now familiar sight of the walls separating the Inner and Outerwall districts. Good, she was still in Tendorvasht and at the Southern Docks.


    Lifting the latch, the window swung inward and up. The cold breeze made her involuntarily shiver. The lap of the waves filled her ears as did the cawing of the seagulls above. She sized up the window. It was just large enough that she could squeeze through and make her escape. Poking her head through and looking around, Thrace saw she would be immediately deposited on the dock and not in the water. Good, if she decided to escape; she couldn¡¯t swim.


    Time to finish up the list. So far, the tally was - her eyes widened a bit - three ¡°Rot¡±s to Four ¡°Not¡±s. Huh. Granted, two of those ¡°Rot¡±s were big ones. But, it seemed that the list was telling her to try and pursue enlisting this ¡°Knight¡¯s¡± assistance. After all, he had this guilty expression on his face. Maybe Thrace could capitalize on that guilt.


    She didn¡¯t need to trust him. Thrace just needed to trust his skills, abilities, and malleability.


    Thus, for the first time since she had left home, Thrace did not flee. She settled down at the round table, flipping open her spell tome to study her spells once more. It was always best to be prepared when a girl decided to court danger.


    ¡ù


    Kosram stood outside the door carrying a tray of food. Since the Baptism was docked, the cook was able to prepare better fare then what would be available while at sea. The chef, upon hearing that food was for his ¡°sick daughter¡±, had piled the tray with slices of bread, cheeses, cold meats, and a warm glass of milk as well. A suitable peace offering Kosram imagined, in addition to the illusion.


    Don¡¯t interrogate her, Kosram thought. You need to win her trust. And, treating her like those Crownsguard did isn¡¯t going to help. But, he still needed all the facts. The past week of skulking about, tossing around some coin, and asking questions had not stirred up all the answers he¡¯d been looking for. Nor satisfied his curiosity.


    But, he was nervous. It felt like everything he did was wrong. Thrace clearly saw him as an enemy, a threat. But he was her only chance if she wanted to get that tome back.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    And, to top it all off, Kosram had almost broken his cover when he had tried to tip the cook. He had been able to hide the coin and stuff it back into his pocket before the cook or his shadow could see it.


    This disguise may have bought them passage on this vessel - the Baptism was exclusive to only Followers of the Tenets - but it was proving troublesome. Kosram didn¡¯t have any experience with the Followers beyond what he¡¯d heard in rumors and stories. He knew for certain that Followers never handled their coin directly. To touch coin or any form of wealth with bare skin was considered a sin. To even gaze upon it was almost as bad. Apparently, Followers hired intermediaries called, ¡°Sin-Takers¡±, who handled the coin directly. He¡¯d heard that most were not members of the sect.


    The ship¡¯s captain, a devout Follower by the name of Horstead, had offered the services of one of his crew to act as Kosram¡¯s Sin-Taker. Kosram hadn¡¯t been able to refuse and now, he had this eerily-pleasant Dura shadowing him about the ship.


    Kosram looked down and to his left. Ingdun, hands crossed behind his back, looked back and smiled at him. Kosram suppressed a shudder. Any normal person would¡¯ve asked why he had been standing here for nearly ten minutes. Instead, Ingdun just stood there humming to himself.


    The Sin-Taker was actually thin for a dwarf. His thin form, contrasted to his bushy beard, made for a strange, almost comical sight. Plus, he smelled of fish and stale ale. A ghastly combination. Kosram took a deep breath, shifted the tray to one hand, and grasped the door handle.


    ¡°Parenting troubles, Enlightened One?¡± asked Ingdun finally.


    Of course, now he decides to speak. ¡°Pardon me?¡±


    ¡°Well, I couldn¡¯t help but notice that you¡¯ve been standing here as still as a frightened hare, Enlightened One. The hesitation, the indecision.¡± He took a single step towards Kosram. Kosram fought not to reflexively step away. ¡°You and your daughter are not on good terms?¡±


    ¡°Um. Yes, you are correct. I recently...made a mistake and I hurt...her feelings. We¡¯ve barely spoken in, well, pleasant terms since.¡±


    Ingdun nodded sagely. ¡°Ah. I understand. I myself have ten children. And, by the gods, my youngest daughters are a handful-¡±


    ¡°Good on you!¡± Kosram said, cutting him off. ¡°Please, I imagine that we can speak of this at a later time.¡± He opened the door and stepped inside the cabin. ¡°May the Tenets guide thee.¡±


    Kosram saw a look of annoyance flash across Ingdun¡¯s face before that smile reasserted itself. He bowed. ¡°And may they watch over you as well, Enlightened One.¡±


    The door was slammed shut. Kosram slumped up against it before letting out a sigh.


    Thrace sat at the round table with a straight-backed posture. She looked at him her right eyebrow cocked. But, she rose and curtsied to him; an odd gesture give that she wasn¡¯t wearing a skirt.


    ¡°May the Tenets guide thee, Father,¡± she said, her voice full of an artificial cheerfulness. Thrace spoke the greeting with the ease of either an expert liar or someone familiar with the Followers. She was also louder than necessary.


    Kosram opened his mouth but she put a finger to her own. Then, the finger gestured to both ears before pointing at the door. Kosram immediately understood her. Say nothing out of the ordinary. Eavesdropping possible.


    He flared his nostrils, breathing deeply. Quickly filtering through the scents and smells, he could smell Ingdun¡¯s horrid fish, ale smell. It was strong, stronger then it would be if Kosram had been smelling the traces of his passing. That damned Dura was eavesdropping. How had Thrace known?


    She gave him a glare - Act natural. Respond.


    ¡°And may they watch over you as well, Daughter,¡± He responded, raising his own voice.


    ¡°Is that food for me?¡± she asked. Thrace stood and retrieved the tray from him, flashing him a winning smile before sitting back at the table. ¡°I am starving. I apologize that I¡¯ve been feeling under the weather. I still feel a bit faint but¡± - she held out a hand - ¡°I think I have enough strength for morning prayers.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m...glad to hear that, Daughter.¡± Kosram joined her at the table. He reached for her hand, but Thrace quickly snatched it away. Head cocked, eyes closed, she was intently listening for something. Kosram began to sniff once more for Ingdun. Yes, his scent was no longer strong near the door.


    After a minute, Thrace opened her eyes. Her straight back postured and fake cheeriness faded. ¡°Good he¡¯s gone.¡± She spoke in Orgashk. A further precaution against eavesdropping, he imagined. ¡°Ugh, I hate Sin-Takers. Vicious, hateful weasels all of ¡®em.¡±


    ¡°How exactly did you know he would be eavesdropping?¡± Kosram asked, speaking in kind.


    Thrace began to tear into the meal like a pack of wolves pouncing on a fallen deer. She tore into the bread slices with savage bites and shoved meat and cheese in after. After a long gulp of milk, Thrace answered.


    ¡°Well you see, Half-Orc¡±- Kosram¡¯s eyes narrowed at the slur - ¡°the thing about Sin-Takers that most heathens don¡¯t know is that they are in fact members of the sect. In fact, the rumor that they are not is a lie fomented by the Follower¡¯s themselves. Sin-Takers act as spies, able to go and act outside of the Tenets. They also police the Followers themselves, ensuring that members of the sect are pious, faithful, and ¡®righteous¡¯.¡±


    She spoke the last word with a sardonic grin. ¡°I hope that all of ¡®em freeze in Four Hells. Let the Devils take ¡®em I say.¡±


    ¡°You seem to know a lot about the sect,¡± Kosram noted. ¡°Are you a member? A former member perhaps?¡±


    Thrace let out a snort. ¡°Rotting hells no. I-¡± She cut herself and returned to munching on her meal.


    Kosram let out a sigh.


    ¡°Look,¡± he began. ¡°Let¡¯s start over, again. For the second time.¡± He put out his hand. ¡°My name is Kosram Paltos. It¡¯s nice to meet you Thrace.¡±


    Thrace stared at his outstretched hand. She frowned but slowly extended her own, shaking his hand. ¡°Nice to meet you, Sir Knight. My name is Thrace Dalwin.¡± Their handshake ended. ¡°Thanks for getting me mixed up in your shit.¡±


    ¡°Pardon me?¡±


    ¡°You heard me. You see, when those bounty hunters were trying to snatch me off the streets it wasn¡¯t because of anything I did. Their leader, the Ginger, said, and I quote, ¡®Assisting in impersonating an Eldritch Knight? You and whoever you were working for are crazy.¡¯ End quote.¡± She leaned over the table, resting on her forearms as she stared Kosram right in the eyes. ¡°Who the hell really are you, ¡®Kosram¡¯? And why are you pretending to be an Eldritch Knight?¡±


    Kosram stared back at her. Her face was twisted into a scowl. Her eyes were narrowed and bore an intensity not found in one so young. In her Uruk form, the tusks almost made her menacing. Well, this certainly wasn¡¯t going the way he imagined. How did this turn into an interrogation against him so fast?


    ¡°I have my reasons,¡± he finally said, speaking slowly. ¡°While I do apologize for getting you mixed up in my business but until we establish a level of trust I am not going to tell you anything further. And, keep in mind, that my friend and I saved you from those bounty hunters. I didn¡¯t need to yet I did. I feel like that wipes away some of that debt.¡±


    "Last night, they were after me because of you!" She scoffed. ¡°So, you still owe me an answer and more.¡± Thrace began to list off things with her fingers. ¡°Because of you, I lost Papa¡¯s tome. Because of you, I am now an accomplice to a death penalty level crime. And, you also used Charm magic on me which is the rotting worst.¡± Three of her fingers were viciously waved in his face. ¡°It¡¯s three to rotting zero, Half-Orc! Time to cough up some coin! You clearly owe me!¡±


    The tirade left the girl breathless, chest heaving from the exertion. In the silence that rolled over them after, Kosram finally noticed that the window was open. Not a smidge which would allow for a bit of fresh air in, but wide open. Wide enough for a girl to escape if she wanted.


    But Thrace was still here. That said something. Instead of trying to bolt when they first met or when she had stormed off back at the Aden Lodge, Thrace had remained.


    Kosram intended to make good on his promise. But with the current status of..whatever, this was, it would be difficult for the two to work together without a level of trust.


    Then, a spark of inspiration hit him.


    He reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin. It was a standard gold piece, emblazoned with the Queen¡¯s raven sigil on one side and the symbol of a crown on the other. He flipped the coin to her. She caught it.


    ¡°Alright, let¡¯s make a deal, one that can help establish some trust. That coin right there is now our special ¡®Honesty Token¡¯. If you have a question for me, hand me that there coin and I will answer honestly. When I have the Honesty Token, I am able to do the same to you. Thus, we are limited to one question at a time and we can certainly work on growing that trust. Sound fair?¡±


    Thrace¡¯s eyes flickered between the coin and him.


    ¡°I can also cast ¡®Zone of Truth¡¯ if that would help. It¡¯s a second tier spell that-¡±


    ¡°I know what it does,¡± she said abruptly. ¡°No that won¡¯t be necessary. And don¡¯t ever cast that spell on me. Ever. But¡± - the coin was flipped back towards him - ¡°let¡¯s test your sincerity.¡±


    Kosram caught the coin. ¡°Alright. Ask me anything.¡±


    ¡°How¡¯d you get that pendant? Did you kill an Eldritch Knight?¡±


    Kosram froze for a moment but spoke. She would learn about this eventually. ¡°It was given to me by my mentor. He was an Eldritch Knight himself, a Master of the Order. His name was Graug, an Orc. Our agreement stipulates that I am only compelled to only answer the first question but I will answer the second as a show of good faith. No, I didn¡¯t kill Graug. But, yes I¡¯ve killed other Eldritch Knights. Fifteen by my count. Sixteen actually, due to last night.¡±


    Thrace was studying his face intently. After a long moment, she nodded.


    ¡°Huh. You¡¯re not lying.¡± She leaned back into her chair, eyes never leaving him. ¡°Sixteen?¡±


    Kosram stood up, walking to his bunk. As he kneeled down, he noted that the belt¡¯s position was now a few fingers to the right. She¡¯d gone through his things. Later, he would have to check to make sure nothing had been taken. He reached into his pack, unfastening a secret flap before taking out its content.


    He dumped fifteen Order pendants on the table. They made acascade of clinking sounds as they struck the wood surface. Thrace¡¯s eyes widened a little. A ray of sunshine that shined through the window illuminated the pile, making the emeralds glow. One of her hands reached for the pile, lightly brushing against them as if fearful that they would fade away if she touched them.


    She let out a barking laugh before slapping the table twice. Savage glee danced in her eyes.


    ¡°So you are dangerous,¡± she stated with a leer. Thrace, once more, leaned towards him but with a different kind of calculating eye. It reminded him of how some shoppers eyed up weapons for sale. The allure of danger was intoxicating. But there was something else, an undercurrent of something darker. Kosram recognized it - it was vengeance.


    Kosram felt himself lean back, eyes wide. This was quite a shift in her personality. He¡¯d seen the calculating wit, the raw anger, and felt her vicious tongue lash at him with slurs. But this, this was something different. A vengeance that burned like a slow flame, cooking away before it completely consumed.


    It reminded him of his own.


    Thrace beckoned towards him, making a flipping motion with her fingers. ¡°Go ahead. Do it. I¡¯ll answer your question.¡± There was a savage, eager tone to her words.


    Kosram hesitated for a moment before flipping the coin to her. She caught it with both her hands.


    ¡°Since your father is the recently murdered Archwizard of Palson, whywere the Crownsguard after your father¡¯s tome but not you?¡±


    There was silence for a moment before Thrace spoke.


    ¡°How do you know this?¡± she asked, confirming his suspicions.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been in a coma for a week. Once I hid you here, I had plenty of time to throw a little coin around and ask a few questions,¡± he replied. ¡°Granted, you just confirmed my suspicions, so thank you. You told Larisa your full name so that gave me somewhere to start. But, even if those Crownsguard were gullible, they did have one thing right. There was no way a common street rat would get their hands on a wizard¡¯s tome. Thus, you had to be related to the Archwizard somehow.


    ¡°There are all sorts of rumors flying about what exactly happened. The only consistent things I learned were: that the Archwizard¡¯s certainly dead, that his only daughter is missing, that no one could agree on how the Archwizard died and that Archwizard Yurin Dalwin was a tiefling, a green-skinned tiefling. It wasn¡¯t much of a stretch to guess that you are his daughter. Now, the fact that you are still alive means that something is going on. Some conspiracy that has even fooled the underworld and nobles alike.¡±


    He leaned towards her. ¡°Now, answer my question - since your father is the recently murdered Archwizard of Palson, why were the Crownsguard after your father¡¯s tome but not you?¡±


    Thrace just sat there, wide-eyed. Her energy before vanished like smoke. She reminded him of a puppy that had finallyroused the anger an older hound with it¡¯s yapping. She was unsure of what to do.


    You may be smart, Kosram thought with a small smile, and you may have gotten the jump on me at the Aden Lodge, but you¡¯ve still got plenty to learn.


    ¡°Papa was doing arcane research for the Crown,¡± she finally said, her voice low enough to almost be a whisper. ¡°I don¡¯t know what. But, he would spend many hours, sometimes whole days at the Guild Hall in Palson. The most I ever got out of him was that what he was doing was ¡®necessary¡¯.¡±


    ¡°Really.¡± Kosram scratched his chin thoughtfully. ¡°Palson was only annexed into the Queendom two years ago. I¡¯m surprised that an Archwizard would willingly work with the folk that conquered his city. With Guild assistance, he could¡¯ve easily relocated both of you out of the country.¡±


    She shrugged, before pulling her legs up atop the chair and wrapping her arms around them. ¡°Not much really changed. Things weren¡¯t so bad. Well, at least for.¡± Thrace gestured to herself.


    ¡°Benevora is a little more accepting of the other races. I¡¯ve never been to Palson, but I¡¯ve heard tell of the Race Purges.¡± Kosram shook his head. ¡°Never mind that. Now, you don¡¯t need to tell me what happened. For now, tell me about your father¡¯s tome.¡±


    ¡°Um.¡± She took a deep breath. ¡°The...night it happened, Papa came to me with his tome. He handed it to me and said, ¡®I need you to do something for me. I need you to go to take my tome and go to Tendorvasht. There is a Dura there, a Benevoran woman by the name of Noma. She works at a book store called, ¡®The Whispering Word¡¯. She can complete my work. She will take care of you. She will teach you what you need to know. Go. Go now!¡¯


    ¡°At that point, I left my house with a sack of food and clothes. When I made it to the end of Everwood Avenue, a group of Crownsguard marched up to my front door and-¡± Her voice choked off into a sob.


    Kosram instinctively moved towards her but froze, hand hovering above the table. Thrace didn¡¯t seem to notice with her face buried in her knees. He felt his heart pang for her. She was a tempest of emotion, a scale that was wildly swinging between overwhelming sadness and thirsting vengeance. It was like staring at a mirror for him. If he closed his own eyes, sometimes he would hear Graug¡¯s agonized screams like an echo that never faded.


    ¡°Thrace,¡± he said in a calm, tender voice. ¡°When you read through your father¡¯s spell tome, did you see anything that might¡¯ve resembled his research? Notes? Diagrams? Anything of the sort?¡±


    She sniffled, not raising her face. ¡°I didn¡¯t understand most of his spell tome. Most of the spells he had written in there were beyond my abilities. Papa wasn¡¯t an Archwizard for nothing.¡±


    ¡°And you never found this bookstore, the ''Whispering Word''?"


    "I was going to, but my invisibility spell faded. I was trying to maintain too many spells. That''s when I got accosted."


    "Okay. I understand. Thrace?¡± Her face rose, tear-streaked and with eyes reddened by crying. ¡°You don¡¯t need to answer any more questions, okay? Just keep the Honesty Token on you. But, remember that I swore you a blood oath. Urtash. If you still can¡¯t really trust me, know, without a doubt, that I will help you get your father¡¯s tome back. You¡¯re right. It was my fault that it got taken. Thus, it is my responsibility to help get it back. Okay?¡±


    She hesitated but finally gave him a vigorous nod. Kosram gave her a smile.


    ¡°Good. Alright, I am going to go out, there are a few errands I need to run. For now, please remain in this room. Once I can formulate a plan of action, I will come back for you. Okay?¡±


    Another nod.


    ¡°Good. See you in a few hours. Although, if I don¡¯t return stay on the ship. The Baptism leaves tomorrow and I have paid for passage as far as Tellura. Once you are there, find an Uruk woman named Hassar at the docks. She will take care of you.¡±


    Before Kosram could receive an answer, he stood up, quickly strapped on his component and weapons belt, and left the room. Once the door shut, he took a deep breath. Progress was made. He learned just enough that his course was now clear.


    He had a lot of work to do.


    ¡ù


    Thrace listened to the Half-Orcs footsteps recede into the distance. The moment she could no longer hear them, she began to wipe away the tears. Maybe she had laid it on too thick. Crying was a rotting, ugly thing. Thrace hated it. But, it Kosram was firmly in the palm of her hand. Granted, he was a sharper than expected but he would definitely help her.


    But the tears didn¡¯t stop.


    ¡°The ruse is over,¡± she muttered to herself. Thrace stomped over to her bunk and stood on it, looking at the mirror. ¡°Thrace, you can stop crying.¡±


    But the tears kept coming, in fact, they started to flow stronger than before.


    ¡°Stop!¡± Her hands rubbed vigorously away at her eyes. ¡°Stop!¡±


    A wave of emotion began to well up inside her. It was a flood, one that, just like her tears, she could not stop. Thrace finally gave in. She collapsed atop the bed, body wracked with sobs.


    ¡°Papa. Papa. Papa.¡±