Into the Icy Darkness II: The Next Generation

“Stupid General Diogenes, stupid fouling-“ Vintressa spat after the councilmembers had left the chamber. The Princess’ eyes were ablaze with fury at the hapless Commander in Chief.

“Well, he did what he assumed was best at the time,” her father sighed. The Emperor’s eyes betrayed a slight annoyance, but more than anything else, they showed his tiredness. Like the Princess and her friends, he’d been up for an extremely long time. “And it was a crisis situation. Sending out the city watch and other security folks was a sound decision. He had no idea we were going to opt for a radical course, like the one you proposed,” Lucius smiled at his daughter.

“Still!” Vintressa spat.

“Remember what I told you about governing,” the Emperor said softly, trying to mollify his daughter’s anger.

“Yes... no matter what I plan, something will get fouled up,” she recited, rolling her eyes at the same time.

“So learn to run things on instinct,” the Emperor finished his own quote, before getting up and walking around the table towards the four. “Vintressa, you impressed me a great deal today.”

“Diogenes annoyed me, that’s all,” the Princess replied, annoyance in her voice, but also a little bit of shyness. “I didn’t think we should go that way.”

“You gave him quite a tongue lashing when he said he sent the security personnel already,” Valaron said, eyes still a little wide. He’d been quite surprised at how vicious his sister’s tongue had gotten with the hapless general. “I think you’re the only person I’ve seen other than mom and dad that has made him run out of the room with his tail between his legs!” the prince laughed.

“Remind me never to get your friend angry,” Rokyugan whispered quietly to Raven... just before the Emperor cleared his voice behind the two.

“You two remained awfully quiet during the meeting. And I don’t know about you Royuki,” Lucius butchered the young man’s name, “but I know Raven here is usually very opinionated. Tell me, what do you think of things, since Diogenes’ error?” the Emperor half sat on the long table, his eyes probing the minds of the other two.

“I... um... do not feel it is my place to comment,” Royukgan offered quickly. “I am not familiar with your realm, and I’ve only partially been introduced to all the customs of your nation...”

“Vintressa has introduced you to quite a few I bet,” Raven quickly added, her eyes blazing mischief towards her friend. Before the shocked and appalled Princess could reply, Raven jumped in at handling the Emperor’s question. She was far more comfortable around her Uncle Luke than the other luminaries that had previously clogged up the air in the room.

“Well, Diogenes said that no one save servants was found at the Erelion manor here in Iskeldrun... so they bolted. And he also said that merchants were complaining that a carriage rushed out of there around dawn this morning, almost running them over as they opened their market stalls. There they are right there,” she smiled at the obviousness of her logic.

“Find the carriage, and we find them. Shouldn’t be too hard,” Valaron nodded in understanding, a motion that made Raven grin a little more.

“Vintressa, we’ve heard plenty from you. Royuki-“

“Royukgan,” Vintressa corrected her father.

“Royukgan,” the Emperor said again, face slightly red in embarrassment at mispronouncing the name, “what is your take on Raven’s logic? I have one already, but I want to peck your young, agile minds first.”

“Well...” the young man stammered, not believing he was being asked to solve a security issue for another realm, “I know that if I was fleeing the city after trying to assassinate the Son of Heaven, I would not flee in something so obvious as a carriage.”

“So the carriage is a diversion?” the Emperor finished his thought with a grunt. “That’s exactly what I was thinking. Though the problem with that is Diogenes’ people couldn’t find evidence of anyone else leaving the mansion, except that carriage.”

“Though a carriage rushing through the street, knocking over stalls would cause a lot of commotion, wouldn’t it?” Valaron asked. “I mean, I know if someone nearly knocked over my stall with my wares, I’d be too busy cussing at them as they left to notice anyone else coming out until they’d blended in...”

“Well, the question then is what was their disguise. If they dressed as a commoner, there’s over a million souls within Iskeldrun, it’d be impossible to find them inside the city...” Vintressa said thoughtfully.



Hemmel dusted himself off, thankful fort he several hours of preparation taken to make sure the Erelion manor’s teleporter was working properly. It was designed for two, and considering the circumstances, he’d insisted that the House Mage, who was in charge of the teleporter as well as other magical needs of the family while they stayed there, come along. If he talked, there was too much at risk. Currently his body lay in the deep woods, several hundred yards from Hemmel... near the exact place the teleporter had placed them.

He would have spoken... and when his neck snapped, he felt no pain, the assassin told himself. Hemmel felt no compassion for his direct targets, but those ‘caught in the crossfire’ gave him momentary pause. What was necessary was necessary. Unlike many of the assassins who plied their trade to the nobility, Hemmel did not worship Nerull, god of the dead. He worshipped no one... it could cause complications.

Gingerly, he worked his way through the forest, limping on his injured leg. Bandages had been applied to his wound after he arrived at the family manor... part of the reason that his departure had been delayed. He was, unfortunately, still clad in the clothes of a manservant to the Imperial family... something that would have to change.

I need to find a road, his mind thought quickly. A waylaid traveler would be the easiest source of a clothing change.

A peasant would be best. Non-traceable, anonymous. Merchants are too colorful and flamboyant... it would be noticed. Pilgrims would normally work, but Kulloden is not known for its religious sites.

And preferably it needs to be someone that will, under duress, tell me where I am before I liberate them from their body and clothing, his mind darkly reflected. His hands instinctively patted his waist, for the third time in an hour. He felt the long thin form of his jitte, his only one now that his other had narrowly missed the Empress.

Blind luck the boy got the sword up to block in time, Hemmel told himself. Blind luck. You’re still very fast, and you WATCHED him train. He shouldn’t have been that fast!

Maybe you’re slowing down? another part of his mind questioned. Or you misjudged him? Hemmel’s heart grew a little cold at either of those thoughts. His livelihood, his life, depended on being able to ascertain risks exactly, and move quickly to neutralize them.

Why did you not just kill the boy and his sister? The leg wound was not that bad! You took out several guards! his post-operation brain jumped in loudly. He was proud of each mission he finished... and this would go as the first failure he’d ever had. He did not want to admit that he needed to retreat, that the situation got out of hand, out of control, and that he needed to leave before his target was finished off.

Maybe you WERE attached to that boy? a tiny voice in his head offered, a thought that Hemmel shoved away viciously. Yet the voice returned. Attachment was a luxury he could not afford, and he thought that his professionalism was higher than that. Yet, he had grown attached to the Prince, and his mannerisms.

It is in the past Hemmel, focus on the present! he coldly reminded himself as he peered around a tree. Ahead, the forest seemed to clear, and he could hear the steady patter of horses hooves, along with the creaking of wooden wheels.

A wagon, his mind realized, and as he peered, he saw his new quarry, whistling on this pleasant day in the forest.



Simeon glanced uneasily at the creature following behind him and Eyrna. While the figure was clad in a long, simple black cloak, Simeon swore he could see the white eyes peering out of the dark depths towards him.

“Eyrna, I don’t know if this is wise,” he hissed to her quietly. “Him!? We are bringing him along!?”

“Yes,” his sister responded quiet sharply, even though she did not cast a glance in his direction. “We need him in order to fetch the stone.”

“Eyrna, don’t you think if he was as powerful as he claims he is, he could just teleport us out of the city?” Simeon complained again as something from the sewer ceiling fell on the hood of his cloak. Whatever it was, it was wet, and soon the top of his head felt sickeningly damp.

“I do not teleport you, as it would draw attention,” the same beautiful tenor behind them spoke up. “I have great power, but I also have great wisdom,” the voice gave a slight chuckle.

“He speaks the truth,” Eyrna replied, her eyes still looking ahead by the very dim light provided by their new companion. “If we teleported, out of one of the poorest quarters of the city, the magical signature would be bound to draw some attention. The manors and mansions of the city have teleporters... teleportation there is to be expected.”

“It’s just that-“ Simeon started to complain again.

“Please... quieter, for the sake of my mind,” the creature said again.

Eyrna sometimes wanted to smack her brother for his exceptional nervousness, and willingness to complain. But deep, inside her mind, she shared some of his fears. Uncle is playing with something very dangerous here, she had told herself when Baron Valdemar had revealed his backup plan should the blackmail plot fail.

Eyrna, like many in the nobility, was an erstwhile devotee of Tarantor. His order and justice were what the nobility sought to implement on this earth, and for centuries, under the old Paleologus line of Emperors, exactly that had been done.

But the old line of Emperors ended, and a new line, the Caladron family, took over. The Emperor, still beardless as he had been sixteen years prior, had changed the rules. Restrictions were placed on how the nobility could handle peasants. Old laws requiring the nobles pay taxes, long ignored, were suddenly reinstated.

Tarantor obviously did not intend things to go this way... at least that is what Eyrna and many who worshiped Tarantor felt. Many in the nobility were becoming increasingly convinced that the Emperor, who on the surface also worshipped Tarantor, was under the influence of his Hieroneous loving wife, and his Pelor loving friends. Those two churches had suddenly increased in power and prestige... at the expense of the Tarantor Church Eyrna respected.

Despite these slights, despite the obvious contempt the Emperor held for the way Tarantor had intended things to run, the Great Judge, the Chief High Priest of the entire religion, still gave his unequivocal backing to the Caladron Emperor. True, the cadre in power had defeated a local demon invasion... but the demonic forces had never left the Upper Inerman Valley, a tiny portion of the overall Empire. Many in various circles were becoming frustrated with the current arrangement...

And so they came to us... she chuckled as they rounded another corner in the fetid sewer. People one normally would suspect of targeting the Emperor...

They chose us because they knew we would not inform the Imperials of any plots against them if we refused... Little do they know what they have sown, they will reap in fury soon...

She gave a sigh at the last thought, and looked back towards their new companion. His hands, when they came out of that eerie black cloak of his, were long, and strong... much stronger than she thought they would be for a mere mage. A thought that reminded her of the Emperor, and his famed ability to fight with magic of sword... a thought that made her shudder.

“C’mere ya little pretty!”

Rose Dice spun around, her green eyes flaring with anger as she felt a large and rough hand grab at her rear. Her delicate nostrils flared, and rather quickly the drunken miscreant was laying on the tavern floor, a red mark that copied Rose’s series of rings imprinted on his now swollen cheek.

“Don’t screw with the daughter of the owner!” she snarled at him. Her eyes then flashed a ferocious stare at the other five greasy men gathered at the table, daring any of them to look at her cross-wise. All five sank into their seats.

Rose Dice, twin sister to Raven, was not as fortunate as her sibling. While Raven had recieved an offer to study at the Imperial Academy of Magic in Iskeldrun, Rose had barely missed the cut. And so here she was... still in Kulloden...

“I can’t take it! Gah! Drunken fools!” Rose growled a few minutes later when she’d returned to the kitchen area of the Pony Alehouse and Eatery. Some years ago, Rose’s father, and old man Baradur, the dwarf that used to run the place, agreed that Drunken Pony was not a suitable name for an establishment that was more than a tavern.

As the shouts of glee from several game tables in the back echoed into the kitchen, a small halfling looked up at his boss’ daughter and laughed.

“You’ll get used to ‘em,” Geoffrey chuckled. “After a while, some of the regular drunks become endearing!”

“Only five more days,” she groaned, setting down empty ale mugs for cleaning, “then Pricilla returns, and the little gathering of the Woodcutter’s Guild will be over! You know, Geoffrey, that’s the fifth fool that’s grabbed by behind today! Gah!”

“That just means you need to be quicker... look at Ilene out there,” Geoffrey pointed. As they watched, several other men who had exceeded their tolerance levels reached out to try and grab one of the usual ‘maids. Deftly she evaded his grasp without even blinking or changing her smile towards the more sober group she was serving, and the drunk sprawled on the floor. The rest of the crowd seemed not to notice, as the loud noise of Rose’s brother, Shawn, rose above the din in song.

“Geoff, I know dad put you in charge, but please, can I teach one of those fools a lesson? Magically?” Rose complained. “If someone screwed around in the magic shop, mom would’ve let me teach them some manners!”

The halfling laughed. “Fine. I’ll get Erny out there to take some orders... no doubt there’ll be alot of upset customers at seeing his ugly mug compared to your pretty face!”

Rose gave a slight grin at the compliment. “Thanks, Uncle Shorty,” she smiled, using the family nickname for the mischevious halfling. When their father had first met him, Geoffrey had been an unemployed, drunken messenger for an assassin. After some 17 years, he had sobered up, and become not only an excellent businessman, but one of the best bartenders in the region.

“It’s nothing, darlin’,” he reached up to give the girl a pat on the shoulder. “Now, if you would do me a favor, go check on Ari and yer mom. See if they need anything?”

Rose gave a quick nod (despite the fact her mother was also out of town), and gave a slight laugh of joy as she dashed out of the back door of the building with a wave to Geoffrey. Ari was one of the few distractions to the monotony that Rose felt her life in Kulloden had become.

Up by dawn, open and run her mother’s magic shop. At noon, close the shop for two hours for lunch with and magic lessons from the new head of the Kulloden Mage’s Guild... her mother. Turn over shop to her mother’s apprentice Crakin afterwards, and finish the day until dinner-time with practice. Go home, eat supper, sleep. The rountine had only been broken this week when the shop was temporarily closed for a few days, and her father had asked for Rose to help cover in the tavern.

Ari, however, had arrived only about a month earlier, and was stinted to stay with them for another four months before going back to Iskeldrun. He was excitable, and curious about everything, from the hierarchy of city government, to why Rose’s mother had young mages go to caves looking for bat excrement (that had been a fun lesson... too bad her dad’s favorite chair had been burnt to a crisp when things went awry).

It was a welcome break, especially when every week or so, she got to take him to the country, where he could relax with no disguise, and be merely himself; still rambunctious, still insatiably curious.

As she cut through the early evening streets of Kulloden, she heard the trundle of a heavy cart behind her. Such things were normal; the city had a relatively large and lush wood to its immediate east, and further east were the iron, coal, and copper mines. Carts carrying lumber or metals were not an unusual sight in the city, most headed to either sawmills or smelters.

So she paid this cart no attention as it rattling noise grew louder, and it eventually passed her. Her suspicions were confirmed, as stacks of logs hung out of the carts back. The figure on its back was bent over, doubtless tired after a long run.

The cart surprisingly turned left, onto the same street that Rose was headed. To her knowledge, the area of the city he was headed was only residential, with only a few shops and smithys to break up the constant rows of houses.

He’s probably visiting his family before delivering his load or something, Rose reasoned as the cart clattered onward, and surprisingly turned onto the same street she was headed to...


“Feeling any better?” Lucius’ voice washed over Siabrey’s ears. While his tone was mocking, she knew him well enough to tell that there was deep, genuine worry in his voice, a worry he was trying to cover up.

“Yes,” she sat up, usually her good arm to prop herself. Her shattered shoulder and arm was healing nicely according to the healers and clerics of Honoria, but as a precaution, it was still wrapped up in bandages and slings. “Much better, thank you,” she stuck her tongue out at his mocking tone.

“Good,” his voice expressed genuine relief, and he gently gave her a kiss on the forehead. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he whispered quietly, before the smirk came back to his face. “And I know you’re feeling better, considering you’re smart-aleck manner!” he said louder for the benefit of the little audience the two had.

“Yeah, when mom gets sharp-tongued or starts mocking, she’s fine,” Valaron echoed his father’s sentiments, arms crossed. His sister nodded in agreement, as the two approached the bed where they’re mother was confined for at least the remainder of the day.

“Wait till my arm is healed,” Siabrey gave them a mock look of severity, before finding herself corralled by hugs from her two oldest children. A smile crossed her face as her mind was washed over with memories of what had transpired only the previous night... of how her two children had stepped up to defend her. “Then... I’ll find that punk and Kelir will have a field day!” she smirked, trying to make them feel better with some more bravado.

“Well, we know who it was,” Luke started, and he explained what they already knew. How it was House Erelion for sure, with the likely backing of unknown others. Of Diogenes’ dragnet coming up empty, and the attacks on Raven and Royukgan... and how those two were current on the streets, incognito, trying to dredge up some information with a clandestine guard escort.

“Hmm... figures,” Siabrey growled upon hearing House Erelion had committed the crime. “When do the armies march?” she asked dryly, “I want to be the first to plant a sword in the back of Baron Valdemar,” she said.

“Not for a while,” Vintressa replied, “we want to find out who else is involved.”

“And let them get away?” the Empress replied, a little bit of annoyance dripping from her voice. Her face went into a scowl at the mention she would not be able to march out to find who had threatened her, and more importantly, her children.

“No,” Vintressa smiled, “your daughter is more clever than that. We’ll follow them, once we find them... and they’ll lead us to the Fire Stone, as well as whoever else is involved. With our revised orders, the dragnets running through the city now should shortly find some of their underlings dashing about. Panicked people tend to be more careless,” Vintressa explained.

“Well, maybe its a good thing I’m out of commission for a bit then... maybe your subtlety might do something,” Siabrey admitted, “but when the troops move out against the sons of bitches,” her voice changed to a satisfied snarl, “I want to be in the lead!”

Lucius looked at his wife, remembering images of her over 16 years ago... and how she’d hardly changed in many ways. A mother tigress, always viciously defending her cubs, he gave a slight smile, thinking how he, too, had counted as a cub once.

“I don’t know if that would be wise,” Lucius said softly, and he watched her face fall in frustration. His slight grin grew into a smile, and he ran a hand gently along her face, “though I’ll see what I can do.”

“Raven and Royukgan are already out canvassing for information quietly. Sadly, some of Diogenes’ folks are out there not being as subtle,” Vintressa volunteered. “Hopefully, we’ll get information you can act on.”

“Royu-who?” Siabrey asked, confused. Immediately, Vintressa’s face turned a deep red.

“Her friend Royukgan, from the Academy,” Luke replied with the information he knew. “He and Raven were attacked by assassins the same night you were.”

To Vintressa’s relief, neither parent seemed to notice her embarrassed face.



“Bastards!” the old crone snarled in Raven’s face, her breath foul and sharply smelling of onions. The lady gesticulated wildly towards her small cart, upon which rested several ornate and well made pieces of pottery. “Came charging out of that gate,” she pointed across the street, towards a rather large mansion, “with no regard for life or property! Several of my customers were almost run over!”

Raven nodded in understanding, as her mind processed the information. As the old woman ranted an railed, Raven’s eyes flicked towards the building in question across the road, taking in its layout.

It was not a massive edifice, like the Cotrolia family manor, or House Belges mansion. Nonetheless, it was large, with ornate decorations of white serpents along its exterior as coloumns... symbols of wisdom in the eyes of some.

Unlike other neighborhoods where the wealthy lived, here, in the older quarters of hte city, these mansions were clustered close together. An archway underneath part of the mansion’s second story allowed access to a backyard, small by noble standards, but enough for a well tended garden, and a stopping area for carriages.

So the carriage careened past here... and it almost tipped over, according to the crone, Raven’s mind processed. In order for it to almost tip on her items, it would have had to be headed... east... she looked up the street in that direction.

Toward Comnitas, her mind placed a few seconds later. She’d have to ask Royukgan what information he’d gotten while asking people further down that way what they’d seen. His human form’s handsome features should get some of the ladies to talk rather freely as to what they saw...

“M’lady, do you remember anyone else coming out of that manor?” Raven pressed softly.

“Well, I do,” an young man stuck his head out from the well maintained shop behind the old crone’s wares. He looked at Raven with a smirk. “Why you askin’ ‘round ‘bout them, anyways?”

“Business,” Raven said bluntly. “What did you see?”

“Well, I don’t quite seem to remember. Perhaps if you come inside the shop, I could jog my memory?” the man raised an eyebrow suggestively. Raven felt like shooting him back a look of death, but she forced herself to look pleasant. He might know something of interest...

She turned to the two hooded figures beside her, and whispered to them to watch the door and outside. Running a hand reassuringly over her nagiaka under her robes, she then nodded to the young man.

“Of course, good sir,” she carefully threw some shyness into her voice... maybe even a slight blush. Loosen up his lips...



It took a few minutes of pleasantries that Raven abhorred, but she learned that the young man’s name was Ulric, and the fine coffee and chocolate shop they sat in was his father’s. She also learned that he liked cats, a fine blend of coffee, and fancied women. And for the classy place his father ran, he was rather lewd at times. Raven gave him a fake name, though she did tell the truth that she was a student at the Mages’ Academy... in case he questioned more, she did not want to be found to be lying about something he knew well.

“So, tell me. Why is a beautiful, magically gifted young woman like yourself interested in that loud, raucous family there?” he said with a leering smile.

“Well, to tell you the truth,” she gave slight sigh, preparing to lie, “they owe my father a great deal of money. See, he gave them an invaluable amount of magical service, and they haven’t paid up,” she mentally winced at the direction her on the spot lie had taken.

“Ah... well,” he raised an eyebrow, his hands stretching across the table slowly, “I might be able to help, should you require it?”

“Oh yes, I would appreciate any information on them!” she said breathlessly, trying to sound as helpless as possible without rolling her eyes like she wanted.

“Well, that house belongs to Lady Eyrna Erelion. She maintains it for her uncle the Baron... and last night, into this morning there was some really interesting things going on over there. My guess is they heard you were coming. You must’ve done a job on that one guy that made it back there,” the young man smirked.

The lewdness in the gaze made Raven wince... he’d expressed a liking for ‘rough women’ as well. Which, Raven’s mind guessed, meant this man was likely no slouch in combat himself. Watch yourself.

“What guy made it back there?” she took the little bauble his question posed and ran with it. “I thought I caught all of them!” her face feigned disappointment. Hemmel probably... here to spread the alarm!

“Well, he was limping and all... you likely did a real number on him I’m guessing!” the young man gave a chuckle. “After he arrived, there was all sorts of shouting and yells from over there, and noise like people were packing up. I think they skedaddled! You’re out of luck!”

“When did they run away?” Raven asked. “Where?”

“Oh... you’ll have to agree to see me later if you want that!” Ulric smirked.

“I’ll... be very much in your debt,” she tried to put shyness into her voice, and she glanced downward towards the table. He’s not going to buy that... a rough and tumble person this shy? Raven, your lies and compounding on top of themselves like oil on water... its all going to fall apart! she winced.

“Oh, I have no doubt you would be!” Ulric laughed. “Well, a bunch of folks, clad mostly in brown and green robes dashed out just before dawn... all sorts of noise. Soon afterwards, a carriage dashed out towards the east, and then two people on horseback dashed out towards the west.”

He then gave another slight laugh, “Well, ‘dashed’ isn’t likely the best word. ‘Limped’ is a better one... I’ve never seen such horrible nags in my life!”

Two people on horseback? Nags? Raven’s mind jumped. Sounds like our two people...

Well, that oxman must be rather well off, Rose thought, watching the cart turn several from her house, and stop in front of a rather quiet, and expensive hostel. Maybe he runs a logging firm, and he’s checking things out in disguise, she reasoned. Her father was busy doing that at this moment, traveling to Irulas to check on several magic shops and taverns the Dice family owned. He was a fairly good actor, and loved to show up at his taverns acting like a drunk to test their reactions before revealing himself.

Nah, her mind dismissed any idea of spycraft regarding the man and the oxcart. He must be delivering some firewood, she reasoned before making a turn onto her own street.

The Dice family lived in the most expensive section of Kulloden, in a three story home made of the local pink marble and white brick. There was enough money that Rose could have easily had several manservants following her for protection, but it was a protection she disdained (like the others in her family). Her father was well liked throughout the Valley, and the family had no living enemies. Besides, they weren’t nobility, and no one would really want to cross the head of a large Mage’s Guild, or her husband, who had exaggerated his legend to the point that many assumed he’d slain a dragon, and fifty armed men in one battle, armed with only a rapier!

That thought made Rose laugh. Dad, in a fight with fifty armed men? She grown up hearing the stories of how her mother and dad met, of their true exploits, which were impressive. Several dread assassin’s slain, a noble safeguarded, and immense wealth accumulated at the expense of demons, a dragon (which was slain with extensive help).

What he didn’t tell anyone (but Rose’s mother Elenya freely told family friends) were the other stories. How for a while the famous Shaun Dice had a cat’s tail due to annoying a wizard. How he and the current Empress engaged in various contests in feats of arms, which she invariably won. Of his quips that always landed him in trouble.

As the sun began to set below the mountains off to the city’s west, she jogged through the ornate gate to the front of her home, gilt “D’s” marking the top of the wrought iron fence.

“Good evening, Lady Rose!” one of the two family housekeepers called from the window, and Rose gave a wave back at Melinda. A few seconds later, she had the door open before either Melinda or the family butler could get it open.

“Food will be ready in about fifteen minutes,” Melinda called, “and your mother says-“

“Wash my hands! Yeah I know!” Rose called back, already dashing up the stairs to the guest room where Ari was staying. He’s probably fidgeting around again... gotta make sure he doesn’t get into dad’s...

When she threw open the door, her eyes beheld what looked like mayhem. Objects and books laid strewn about, covering the floor. On the far wall were little pieces of paper with various insects pinned to them haphazardly, as if they were put on in a hurry.

At a desk sat a young man, who looked maybe 15 or so, with several books and papers piled in front of him, reading intently. His skin was a brilliant shade of lavender, his eyes sky blue with hints of yellow. His hair was a multitude of colors, seeming to shimmer on his head as he snapped around with an enormous grin. Small specks of color seemed to fall from him as he moved.

“Rose! Is it too late to go out to the woods?!” Ari asked excitedly. When Rose nodded, his face only showed crushing disappointment for a few moments, before he gestured to the papers to his front. “I went into your dad’s room, and I...”

“Ari!” Rose rolled her eyes. Dad didn’t want him running through the rough draft of the stuff he’s writing! “Pop told you not to go reading through that! You’ll mess up the order he has things in!”

“Its so interesting though!” the young prismatic dragon in human guise protested. “I never knew your parents did so many things... running around, swashbuckling!” he waved his arms about as if he had a blade in his hand. His antics erased what little anger Rose had, and she started to laugh.

“C’mon, ya nutcase,” she grinned. “Food’s downstairs in about fifteen minutes! After that, we put dad’s stuff back, in order!”

“Yeah, I have the order memorized!” Ari announced proudly, causing Rose to raise an eyebrow.

“Uh huh, sure you do.”

“Where’s your brother at?” the young dragon’s overly active mind had already jumped to another topic. “He was supposed to teach me how to play the flute tonight!” The dragon’s human voice betrayed slight annoyance at Shawn’s failed promise... but more curiosity at his present location.

“Keeping the early drunks busy,” Rose replied, leading Ari downstairs. “Someone needs to, until the headline entertainer arrives.” Another aspect of her father and mother being out of town was that she, her brother Shawn, and Geoffrey needed to pick the week’s entertainers. Today it was some lutist named Marogie.

As they reached the bottom of the stairs, both Rose and Ari could see the last of the day’s pedestrian traffic on the streets, heading to their destinations. No one inside the house noticed the man walking by outside, leering at their home entirely too closely, before the specter walked by, heading to his final destination of the day.



“Dammit,” Raven grumbled as the evening sun grew redder.

Two people on nags, riding towards the west, her mind repeated in frustration. Too bad two thirds of the damn city is that way!

Her amorous admirer could not tell her who the two people on nags were, only that it was highly unusual for people so shoddily clothed to be coming from a noble manor like that.

Which automatically means they are important to House Erelion at least, Raven grumbled.

“M’lady... your friend approaches,” one of the guardsmen next to her whispered. HE had been pretending to look at a set of silverware, and slipped the notice to her without raising any eyebrows.

These guardsmen know about discreet, at least. She gave a momentary glance towards the east, and saw several more cloaks coming towards them, one of which held an orangish colored young man’s face. As they walked by, Raven and her small group immediately fell in step with them, slipping into the evening rush of crowds attempting to get last minute errands done.

“City watch folks stopped the carriage in question at the Monsecarl gate,” Royukgan said quietly, looking ahead as if focusing on what lay at the end of this immense boulevard... the Temple to Hieroneous the Righteous. “And inside they found a rather richly clothed servant,” he gave a slight sigh.

“Dammit,” Raven swore in Common before adding a choice phrase from Dwarven. “Anything of use in the carriage?” she asked, before realizing if there had been anything pertinent, useful or the like in the waylaid vehicle, Royukgan would have said so.

“’Fraid not,” the young man responded. “The gate commandant, once he discovered who I was,” he motioned to the signet ring Vintressa had given him, “said that they had only recieved orders to detail all carriages leaving the city. He said he reported it already, its just making its way up the chain of command.”

“Ugh. Which means Diogenes would not have found out until tomorrow morning, likely. A day wasted!”

“Likely,” Royukgan agreed. “In my father’s home, all the gate commanders report directly to the security chief... no sector commanders, or district commanders,” the prince appraised. “It’s so much simpler!”

“Does your father’s capital have over a million people within its five rings of walls?” Raven replied. At the prince’s silence, she gave a slight smile under her hood. “I thought not.”

“So then,” Royukgan said rather suddenly a minute or so later, “We come back knowing precious little more than we left out with.”

“Well, I think I have a description of two people we should be looking for. Dressed shoddily, riding on nags. Along with the descriptions of a couple of the ‘dozens’ of messengers that left.” After she gave the descriptions to Royukgan, he grunted.

“Hmph! That could describe any one of tens of thousands inside this city!”

“Umhm,” Raven sighed. “We’ll have to meet up with some of the other canvassing teams... and see what they have drummed up. Or who knows... maybe someone from the palace might know something... perhaps Hemmel met people on a regular basis on something?”

“I somehow think those leads will be hard to track,” Royukgan disagreed. “From the descriptions Valaron and Vinny gave me, he was a consumate professional. An assassin with no need for magic or weapons. The ultimate threat.” Royukgan shook his head. “Someone with strength like that is hardly an amateur that would leave evidence behind. A true ninja.”

“A what?”

Royukgan paused a moment, before shaking his head and smiling again. “Nevermind. I’ll explain later.”

“Whatever. We were the most likely ones to get any kind of information... I think we were the only ones that used subtlety,” Raven groaned. “Vintressa was right about Diogenes. He’s blunt and to the point.”

Royukgan winced at what she meant. Soldiers dressed in bright Imperial Guard uniforms were more likely to inspire intimidation than correct answers.

“He is a field general. He does what he knows I suppose,” the prince replied quietly. “I highly doubt any kind of information would be obtained by them. I don’t think they’d be able to find where Heaven’s Rain left puddles!”

“What?”

Royukgan rolled his eyes at Raven not understanding a turn of words that anyone in his homeland would have immediately caught. “Nevermind.”

A few minutes of confused silence passed between the two, before Raven jumped into another topic, that had piqued her interest. It would still be another few minutes before the teams would meet at the large fountains in front of the Chalice Temple to Pelor, and she thought she might as well grill Royukgan while he was relatively captive...

“So... how serious is it between you and...” she left the princess’ name unsaid. We are in public, after all.

“Me and...? I... um... well...” he immediately went back into the same stammers he’d given the night before, just before all hell broke loose. “Kinda... okay!” he acknowledged her glare that he couldn’t see, “Its very serious!”

“Umhm,” Raven nodded with her voice. “I see.”

“I mean... she’s nice, she’s pretty, she is no airheaded fool, and she enjoys many of the same things I do,” Royukgan said matter of factly. “In fact, last night’s chaos interrupted our plans for a favorite past-time of ours.”

“What?!” Raven’s mind jumped immediately as deep into the sewers as possible. A trait from her father.

“Chess? Have you heard of it? You know... knight takes priest? Checkmate?” Raven could imagine the prince rolling his eyes at her bawdy thoughts. She searched her own memory, and out of the fog, she did remember an empty chessboard set out on Vintressa’s bed.

I guess he’s telling the truth.

A soft jab from Royukgan told Raven they were approaching the fountain. A few minutes later, the massive cascading tower of water and marble loomed in front of them, water flowing from marble reliefs depicting the sun’s rays, the kind, warm face of Pelor looming above it all. In the evening light, the massive Temple to the Sun god cast the entire plaza in shadow as its bright copper and gold columns caught the suns rays in their brilliance... the long stretch of Pelor, and the shadow showing his leaving for the day.

A rather large bevy of guards, all clad in the brilliant red uniforms of the Casalad Rangers, bows strapped to their backs, stood waiting. All moving about the plaza gave them a wide berth...

...save Raven, Royukgan, and their small retinue.

“M’lord, M’lady,” one of the men, clad in bright, shiny plate mail, stepped forward. “I am Captain Fuldcris. I am compiling the report for General Diogenes on the information our searching this day has turned up.” He gave their cloaks and rather plain clothing a look of slight disdain. “Perhaps your snooping about has given you more information than our... nothing?”



As the evening crept onward, and the blazing orange of the setting sun burned bright over Iskeldrun, two pairs of eyes watched a raven haired, green eyed girl canvassing the street. The eyes observed the two men in black cloaks always within arms reach of her; silent, seeming to look at wares or talk to strangers, but always mindful, always watching. Word quickly spread through a select group that someone was about, asking questions about the morning’s events.

Two more pairs of eyes watched her friend further down the road, a boy with a orangish tint to his skin, dark black hair, and yellow eyes. Their ears caught whispers of his speech on the wind, and lilting, distant responses to his queries. Hand signals flashed quietly, unnoticed, and quickly feet scurried away, with information to report.

Other eyes watched with interest as Master Chamoval’s small, innocuous goblin form set about dealing with the few customers his ramshackle store recieved that day, and now watched as he closed up shop. The goblin untied two nags that had been left there all day, and kicked the old animals until they cantered up the street.

The eyes watched as Chamoval locked up his shop, and the lights in his street level shop go dim. Above, lamplight petered out from his windows, and these eyes took note...

Sometime later, once the dead of night had settled, dark figures quickly gathered around the building, shapes in dark cloaks that momentarily revealed the glint of blades. Quick hands quickly broke the old lock fitted over the door, and arcane words undid the unseen, magical lock covering the same.

Swiftly, silently, the figures stole into the shop, deftly avoiding the numerous shapes of books, antiques, and other items that littered the ground. Silently, these figures rose up the stairs...

Chamoval might have been ‘civilized’ for his kind, but some effects of his race still were with him. One such thing was a preference for meat far rarer than most humans would have consumed. And tonight, to celebrate the departure of his friend, he’d saved up a relatively moist, but now thoroughly rotten, piece of lamb.

Goblins ate their food ferociously, no matter if it was already dead, and Chamoval was no different. His teeth cracking bones, and gnawing on the succulent flesh distracted his mind from what little sounds were coming from the stairway. His confidence in years of procedure made him not carefully check things.

Thus he was summarily surprised when five different swords suddenly pointed at his throat. And when he was rudely spun from his table to face his bed across the small room.

A few seconds later, a young woman, her long red hair tied in a crown around her head, sat down on his flea infested bed. To his immense surprise, the fleas seemed to flee her form, and he could swear he saw the tiny insects leaping onto the floor and scurrying into the woodwork to get away from her.

“Master Chamoval,” her sweet alto sounded, a not so pleasant smile on her face, “several friends of yours entered this place, and never left this morning. Pray tell, where are they now?” Her head inclined to the side, as if she was asking a polite question. Her hand resting on the hilt of a rather large sword indicated her statement was anything but a polite request...

Simeon and Eyrna shivered in the cold, as rain continued to pound down on their cloaks, its droplets sizzling on the pitifully small fire that their two forms clustered around.

The trek through the sewers had been long, arduous, not to mention smelly, but just before nightfall, the three had emerged on the riverbanks north of the city. Despite the urges of the two younger ones to wash off, their dark companion insisted they march onward, towards the north. Eyrna guessed it was perhaps two hours after nightfall when they finally made camp, just before the rain began.

“I’m cold,” Simeon moaned quietly.

Eyrna glanced at her brother, and gave a shivering nod in agreement. We should be sleeping inside a nice manor, covered in silken sheets, our bodies warmed by the fires of a well tended hearth.

At least the rain is washing the smell off of our clothes, she thought darkly. At least one positive.

“’Tis good for your bones,” their companion growled a few feet away. Curiously, he sat with his back to the fire. Eyrna had realized only a few hours after meeting him that his kind did not like the light, and avoided it when possible. “I happen to like the cold.”

“You’re right insane!” Simeon complained. “What we need is a nice large hearth, its flames roaring...”

“A blaze large enough that everyone within ten miles could see us? Yes, an excellent idea!” the dark man scoffed. His hooded cloak turned slightly, and Eyrna could just barely see the bright, glowing white of his eyes. “I am beginning to think that he does not want my help,” the man said in his damningly calm voice.

“We need your assistance, sir!” Eyrna interjected quickly, before Simeon could anger him more. Our cause rests on him and his allies. We shouldn’t anger him! “And we’re willing to pay handsomely for it!” she added quickly.

“Oh, I imagine you are,” the hooded man chuckled darkly, before turning back away from the fire. “And you will, before this tale is done,” his voice mused just barely loud enough for Eyrna to catch the sound.

And she shuddered.

“Sleep now. We have a long week ahead of us,” the man said, in his normal voice again. “Trekking through these woods to where my comrades lay. It won’t be an easy stroll through the Temple Heights, let me warn you!” his voice dripped with sarcasm.

“We’ll be ready,” Eyrna replied in challenge, even as her own mind wondered if she really was ready to deal with this dark creature.

“I am sure you will be,” the dark tenor replied, laughing. Eyrna wasn’t sure if the sarcasm in the voice was foreboding, but it too sent shivers up her spine.



“M’lord?” a voice called softly through the thickened doors of one of the practice rooms in the palace armory.

Valaron closed his eyes in frustration.

“I’m on my way!” he called, sheathing his blade in disgust. I come here to get away from messengers, from servants, from everything else.... yet they follow me even here! his mind snarled. With the recent events, Valaron had been looking forward all day to practicing away from the commotion, the noise, the chaos. It was among the few times he truly was able to think without disturbance in his mind.

“What?!” he snapped as he opened the door. He instantly regretted his sharp tone, as Raven recoiled slightly. “Sorry,” he apologized quickly, searching for a reason for his harsh words. “I’m used to servants coming in with inane things. What brings you here?”

“You’d better come with me,” Raven said quietly, her eyes dancing with a little fear. “There’s something you need to see.”

It was a few minutes later when Raven and Valaron came into one of the smaller reception halls near a side entrance to the palace. Vintressa and Royukgan were already there, both looking shocked and horrified.

Before them lay the form of a small, elderly goblin, stripped to his waist, bruises covering his drenched form from head to toe. Dried blood had caked along his ears and down the side of his head.

More alarming than this scene was the grisly image on his back. Burnt black into his green skin was the form a hand, its fingers splayed open. Val looked to his sister in confusion.

“He was dumped off in front of the side steps here,” Vintressa said quietly, walking around the body, looking at it closely. “He had a note pinned to his neck. It’s a little runny from the rain, but it’s still legible.”

“Pinned to his neck?” Val asked in confusion.

“With a dagger,” Raven added as Vintressa handed Valaron the little note. As she said the ink on its paper had run slightly, though it appeared that most of the paper was dry, as if the goblin’s body had covered it. The writing looked scripted and beautiful, though the words were anything but.

“ALAS TO THOSE WHO USE NAGS
MASTER CHAMOVAL HAS MET HIS FATE
NO MOURNERS CLAD IN RAGS
SHALL SEE HIS STATE
FOR THEY ARE PACKING BAGS
LOOKING TO DEATH BREAK.”

“That makes no sense!” Valaron handed the note to his sister. Sounds like the rhyming of a drunken fool! “Why is this here, in front of us? He’s just a goblin, probably pulled from the city gutters!”

“Val... the first line. ‘Alas to those who use nags?’ ‘Mourners clad in rags?’” Vintressa pointed. “Someone just dumped us a clue. A very small and dead clue, but a clue nonetheless.”

“Do you really think that this has something to do with those nag-riding people that Raven found out about?” Valaron asked, still not trusting his sister’s logic. That’s an immense leap of faith. And if someone was trying to help us out, why wouldn’t they come in a more formal setting... present the evidence to Diogenes, or father? And show themselves for reward?

“I don’t know, but it bears investigating,” Vintressa said finally. “And it gets more interesting. Do you have any idea what that hand on his back means?”

Valaron shrugged. “There’s so many organizations that use a hand as their symbol. Hundreds probably. It’s rather popular,” the prince scratched his head.

“I know there are several mages societies that do. I actually listened to some of the lectures at the Academy,” Raven jumped in. “There’s the Society of Scientific Magic... they’re trying to develop new ways to use the planes of magic, then there’s...”

“How many are there?” Valaron asked, sensing the list could be quite long.

“Um... thirty or so?”

“And I don’t doubt that your realm is like mine, with numerous non-magic secret societies using the hand as a symbol,” Royukgan added. “I can think of six or seven in my home country. Everything from thieves, to assassin’s orders to secret societies for ferriers and smithys. Your larger nation probably has even more.”

“Great,” Vintressa sighed. “And that’s not counting any of the less than legal societies. Well, I think it bears looking into. Look at the edges of the burning,” the princess leaned over the corpse rather casually. The others leaned with a great deal more reservation. “See how there’s no blood. He was branded after he died.” She stood back up, flashing a smile of triumph towards Raven.

“How do you know that?” Valaron asked the question on everyone’s mind.

“I paid attention in anatomy lecture... which someone needed to take thrice before finally passing the final exam,” her look towards Raven beamed. “A wound like this should ooze out blood. This one has none.”

“Or someone could have used a bloodbane brand,” Raven pointed out.

“Stop stabbing holes into my theory!” Vintressa growled in frustration. She gave a sigh. “I suppose they could have done that. But why would someone use a bloodbane brand? Why would someone waste bloodbane magic on such a thing as a brand?”

“Maybe they don’t want to have to keep cleaning their brand off? I mean, there are some swordmasters that use bloodbane swords just so they don’t have to worry about cleaning off the sword to avoid rust,” Valaron offered. “It can be quite an annoyance, especially if one is looking at many fights in a short period of time.”

“That still seems pretty silly... considering how powerful and dark bloodbane magic is. I heard Aegrifyr refuses to teach it to any of the Academy students. He says it and other necromantics are too dangerous,” Vintressa said. “Why would someone waste powerful necromancer powers to brand a hand on someone? Doesn’t make sense. I still say he was branded after he died.”

“What about this mess here. ‘For they are packing bags, looking to death break.’ That’s the most mangled piece of garbage-“ Valaron observed grimly.

“Packing bags is rather obvious… they’re leaving the city,” Royukgan said aloud.

“Well, we didn’t need a dead goblin’s note to figure that out,” Raven scowled.

“Sounds like the confusing stuff a poet would do for the sake of a lyric,” Valaron replied dryly. Poetry was obviously not one of his fortes or loves. “Why would they pack their bags to ‘death break?’ anyway? Its not like anyone needs a resurrection spell or something. We haven’t caught them yet!”

“Maybe it means they’re going back to talk to their ancestors, or a priest that can converse with the dead. Or maybe that Fire Stone gives immortality of some kind,” Royukgan offered. “That would certainly break death… there’s just the whole complication that they can’t carry it. Or who knows… maybe it was supposed to be another word instead of ‘death’ or ‘break.’”

“Regardless,” Valaron interrupted, “at this point, I am entirely in favor of bringing this evidence up at tomorrow’s council meeting.” The prince then put his hands on his hips. “Diogenes might be a numbskull when it comes to investigating things, but his underlings have been in security for a while. They might be able to make sense of it.” There was a few seconds of silence, before someone spoke.

“No,” Vintressa said quietly.

“No? Why not?” Val asked increduously.

“Think about it Valaron!” she spun to face her brother. “Someone knew this was the area of the palace we were close to, and knew that at this hour we would be awake for the palace watch to contact. Theyknew Diogenes wouldn’t be roused to check over a mere body, and that certainly Mom and Dad wouldn’t.”

“And whoever it was didn’t go through the normal channels by telling the city watch, or the Guard, or other security people. It was intended for us!” she said forcefully. It’s fairly obvious! They want us to respond to this, not mom or dad or any of the guards or security!

“You’re talking like someone is trying to give us evidence to avoid normal security procedure. That makes it automatically suspicious to me,” Valaron rejoined. “I can’t think of one legitimate reason why someone would avoid going through sound security channels to relay important information... if, indeed, what you’re guessing about this little fellow is right, and there is a connection.” Valaron crossed his arms. I think this is either a coincidence, or a false lead sent to trip us up!

“Perhaps they know something you don’t... like the security channels are compromised? Someone paid off someone?” Royukgan offered.

“Doubtful,” Valaron added again. “Diogenes is a bulldog. He might not be subtle, he might not be creative, but also he is not disloyal. The main reason he was put in was Father knew that Diogenes would not misuse the position... he’s served faithfully as a general since before we were born!”

“How about a compromise?” Raven finally offered. “We inform your father, but not the council. He at least deserves to be kept abreast of the situation.”

Vintressa nodded, though Valaron grumbled at the information not being spread as it normally would. Someone is trying to trick us with this mess!



Much later that night, the long, drenching rain abated. Eyrna and Simeon did not notice, sleep having long ago claimed their bodies. The tiny fire that had warmed them had long since burned itself out. Their comrade did notice, however, and smiled.

Gingerly he removed his hood as the moon’s light began to peek between the clouds. The soft moonlight was something his bright eyes could handle, and it cast shadows about his already ebony black face.

He rose, and looked to the left, his eyebrows raising momentarily. On cue, several more figures appeared, all clad in dark robes but none possessing the same dark face as him. Silently, he seemed to almost float above the ground towards them. Unbeknownst to them, a few whispered words of power drifted from his lips, directed at them. Satisfied with the results, he watched them all bow in deference and respect.

“My Master,” the five dark cloaks dipped in the depth of the night, “we have come, as you requested. Show us, and guide us, our Teacher,” The others did not rise, until their master spoke.

“Arise, children. A new night now holds us,” he smiled at hearing his old title now come back to his ears. It had been centuries since someone had called him that, and it was music to his ears. “And our lord above calls us this night to do his work. Metallus, Holder of Secrets?” he asked, and one of the hooded forms stepped forward.

Underneath his pitch black cloak, in the thin lights of the ever strengthening moonlight, the thin beard and sharp face of a young human could be made out. The man bowed hurriedly, with great deference. He was a young one in the organization, his life only being prolonged to twice its normal length.

“My Teacher, I have safeguarded the location of tombs, as you have asked, keeping the secret hidden. It is written on no paper, or pinpointed on any map. It only exists within my mind, where it shall stay a secret, one which none save our lord can find,” he bowed.

“Excellent. You have done excellent work over the past century then... work worthy of a new position. Behold, the Holder of Secrets is now a Keeper of the same,” he said quietly.

The effect on the young man was the same as if the words had been shouted during the pomp and finery of a royal coronation, and he quickly fell to a knee again, whispering words of thanks.

“My Teacher... those two. They are not of our ranks. Can they be trusted with the secrets of the tombs?” another dark cloak asked, his tone directing them towards Eyrna and Simeon’s sleeping forms. Within its shadows the feral red eyes of a dark creature burst out, his eyes betraying a hunger for more than flesh. “Shall I dispose of them, my Teacher?”

“Many times, my child,” the Teacher replied, “in order to obtain a goal, one must use... vessels. Those two are merely vessels we shall use to obtain our goal. Then, you shall have your way with them as you please.”

Simeon’s sleeping form suddenly gave a snort, causing the six dark figures to jump.

“Follow us for one week. Then reveal yourselves, after I have had time to work on the two uninitiated. Thence, you shall join us. Now,” he looked back at the boy, who had rolled to his side and looked to be moving still, “fly! Fly, guard your minds and keep your mental treasures locked!”

Quickly, the six brought their left hands up to their left eyes; a quick yet powerful benediction between their seething magical souls. And in a flash, six turned into one, the night covering her other travelers…



Simeon was a slow riser, and it was some five minutes later when he opened his eyes, and he saw their dark companion in the moonlight, leaning against a tree. A tiny bit of moonlight shone into the dark recesses of his hood, and Simeon could swear he saw a ghostly smile crossing the creature’s lips.

The morning sun burned through the last of the night’s fog and rain above Iskeldrun, bathing the city in glowing light. The same light burned down into the Imperial Palace, and somewhere within its depths, the light caused Raven to squint.

She gave a unthankful grunt, before turning her back to the thin slits that marked the chamber windows. With the blinding light of the sun out of her eyes, she again tried to refocus her mind.

Come on, Raven... its part of the reason your mother sent you to the Academy. Focus!

She closed her eyes, feeling the magic within her veins coursing, rushing, running as a stream. Her person was an immense portal for the planes of magic. Unlike many of the hopeful apprentices that were her classmates, she did not go there to learn how to access magic, but something far more important.

How to properly control and wield the sorcerous powers that coursed through her being.

She held her left arm out horizontally, as she felt the power course. She focused her mind on it, on its rivulets and streams forming into a pool, shimmering, immensely deep. Her mind started to clear, as her being focused on dipping into the pool, and bringing forth a small drop of that power. It fluttered in her mind, floating as if one droplet in a misty sky...

Carefully, she guided the tiny droplet of power from that reservoir towards the surface, and towards her free arm. It took only a few seconds to complete the process, yet the movement seemed to take an eternity, her mind was so focused.

Finally, she felt the dribbles of magic along her fingertips, and her eyes opened. Within its grasp was a small, white ball of energy, shaped like a bead. Her gaze to anyone else would seem glazed over, unfocused, when in fact she was taking in everything possible.

Her eyes spotted the dummy straw men set up... two of them barely five feet from her, ten others about forty feet away. Her mind imagined them moving, shouting, roaring towards her, and then her muscles and mind sprang into action.

One would have seen a sharp snarl form on her lips, as the bead flew away from her hand, towards the clustered group of straw men. As it coursed, her right hand slashed down across her body, and ripped out her nagaika. The glass whip cracked through the air, sending both of the close straw men sprawling to the ground, their forms shattered and slashed.

Her eyes then flecked upwards as a flash burst through the room. She was greeted with the sight of four of the straw men burning.... hardly a worry in the stone of the armory. Six others lay untouched, save one whose hat was singed slightly. A dark, burned spot on the stone floor showed her that her fireball hand landed about fifteen feet where she had aimed it... and with a spell with a radius of twenty feet, the results were hardly satisfactory.

“Dammit!” she snapped, feeling the reservoir of magic within her body break its bonds and begin its swirling in rivulets of power again. You didn’t concentrate enough when drawing the nagiaka! Focus Raven! she shouted at herself. With a huff of frustration, she stormed forward, and began roughly setting up the knocked over figures.

“That was... impressive. Scary impressive,” she heard a voice behind her, and Raven jumped around, her heart in her throat.

Valaron gave a slight chuckle, before walking forward with his hand extended. “I came here for my morning practice, but I heard someone in the hall. So I crept in quietly, and lo and behold, I have seen a formidable maiden indeed!” his smile grew larger as he grasped her hand and shook it in congratulation. “Well done!”

A flutter of thoughts raced through Raven’s head, before she cast her eyes downward, her face bright red at the praise. “It... was nothing. Far less than I expected,” she admitted with a stammer. “I missed six of the ten targets with my spell. I must work on my concentration.”

“Well, you missed six. So? Still a damn sight better than I can do,” Valaron smiled, bringing her head up with his hand. “I can either launch spells or engage in armed combat. You seem like you can almost do both,” Valaron said in slight wonder, before a smirk crossed his face. “Remind me never to anger you!”

“I don’t think that will be an issue!” Raven laughed a little too loudly, which caused Valaron to little at her a little strangely.

“I’m... sure it won’t,” he said slowly, before nervously smiling again. Suddenly, his nervous face changed to one pregnant with an idea that he, at least, considered brilliant.

“It’s been a while since I’ve had a god sparring partner!” he took her by the shoulders and led her towards the far side of the chamber. “And I’d sure like to test my chances against that... um... what exactly is that whip called again?”

“A nagiaka,” Raven giggled, “and sure... it’ll be fun!”

When he first squared his shoulders and set his katana in his high guard stance, he thought things would be easy. I have to watch things... my sword could easily cut through her whip-thing. Wouldn’t want to actually damage her weapon. Her own weapon seemed to hang only limply from her arm... as if she was inviting attack.

Valaron decided to humor her, and gave a feint towards his down and left, before suddenly switching his slash towards the right. A sharp craack cut close through the air, and he suddenly felt his blade going a different direction... then out of his hand. With a clatter, his sword fell to the ground, and Raven looked at him and laughed.

“Is that all you have? Vintressa made it sound like you were trying to learn how to be a great swordsman!” Raven giggled. “Or do you want another chance to beat a measely student of magic at melee combat?”

Val gave a growl of frustration, and picked up his blade in response.

That whip is fast... and strong. I must be careful.

The next spar was easily Valaron’s. After thinking back on her first attack that disarmed him, Valaron was prepared. As soon as her whip had latched around his blade, and he felt the slight tug of her snapping it from his hands, he yanked downward as hard as possible. The move snapped her close to him... close enough that his elbow was only a few inches from her face. In a real fight, her nose would have been broken.

“There. I think I would’ve had you there,” he smiled in triumph. “Just figured out your tactics and used them against you,” he explained grandly, causing her to scowl.

“Another match!” she unwound her whip from his katana.



“Is your brother usually late like this?” Royukgan asked Vintressa quietly. As the most dangerous assassin was still at large, it was considered unwise that Royukgan, Vintressa, or Raven return to the Academy. All were in the palace until further notice.

“No... and yes,” Vintressa complained. “When he goes to practice, he loses all sense of time or place!” the princess quoted a recent letter from her parents. “Headstrong, Bullheaded...”

“Indeed. Just like your attempted rush on my knight two turns ago,” Royukgan smiled, and nodded to the small chessboard to their front in one of the many private studies in the residence wing of the palace. It was something that was relaxing, to take both their minds off of the puzzles of the previous few days.

“Why should I bother?” Vintressa moaned. “I’ve lost! You’ve got me in two moves! Gah!”

“Well, three actually,” Royukgan’s smile changed to a mischevious smirk. “Your problem was... well, look whose coming right there!”

Vintressa turned around in her chair, and spotted Valaron storming into the room, his face twisted in fury. His copper hand was closely cupped to his face, and by his hissing, she guessed whatever it was hurt. Behind trailed a worried and tearful Raven.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know it was going that close!” the girl sputtered in apology.

“Bloody well almost took out my eye!” Valaron shot back, furious.

“What happened?” Vintressa asked, despite something telling her deep down she might want to just stay out of whatever mess was enveloping her brother and her friend.

“We were sparring, me with my nagiaka, him with his sword, and-“ Raven started, before Valaron interrupted.

“She sliced open my face!” he shrieked, pulling away his hand. Most of his cheek, as well as his hand, were covered in blood. “Pelor’s Bloody Flames!” Valaron swore, putting his hand back up to keep the mess from spreading. However, red spots were already on his otherwise mundane tunic.

“It was an accident! I didn’t mean to-“ Raven replied desperately, her eyes looking between Valaron and Vintressa worriedly.

“Val, stop,” Vintressa sighed. The cool minded Vintressa was needed again to save the day. “Sit,” she commanded, before ordering a manservant to fetch some water and bandages. When he returned a few minutes later, she handed the two items to Raven.

“Fix him up,” she said quietly.

“Good gods no! She’s not getting near me again! She might kill me accidentally!” Val complained.

“Val, stop being a baby!” Vintressa finally stamped her foot. “Hold still so she can clean you up!” No doubt the wound is far smaller than it feels... umhm... just as I thought, she crossed her arms. Raven’s worried and fearful cleansing of his cheek revealed there was indeed a gash... one merely an inch long, high on his cheekbone. Blood ran from it rather profusely, but there was no way such a wound was debilitating, let alone fatal. The Princess gave a complaining sigh.

“Father will be coming soon. Get him cleaned up before he arrives!” She spun back towards the chess table, only to be confronted with a still smirking Royukgan. Beset on all sides, Vintressa simply swore before cleaning off the chessboard and demanding a rematch.



Like most noble residences, the Imperial Palace of Iskeldrun was replete with secret chambers, corridors and hallways. But as every noble household, it also had numerous private drawing rooms, sitting rooms, and quarters for private meetings between members of the Imperial family and others of interest. The sitting room occupied by the princes, princess and commoner was one of these.

In these closed halls, the only ceremony required was what the Emperor wished, and as time was of the essence, such tasks were kept to be kept to a minimum. He strode into the room with no fanfare or banners... indeed, he was still donning his robes of state. With a wave, the servants were dismissed, and the doors of the room shut, leaving them completely alone.

“You said you wanted to meet with me outside the Council?” Lucius asked hurriedly, his hands furiously trying to button a rubied clasp. “What has happened?”

“Well,” Royukgan replied, “Vintressa has been the searching one, so I think she should describe what we’ve found.”

The princess then produced the rain-streaked note for her father to see, as well as describing the goblin left on the streets outside of the palace. She also explained her theory... that the message was meant to bypass the normal security people, and be dealt with directly by the Imperial person.

“Hmmm,” Luke sat down, reading the note over again.

“I think we should go forward assuming there’s a leak or mole in our security people,” Vintressa continued cautiously. “Quietly try and figure out what this riddlish note means, as well as what the hand burned on the creature’s back meant.”

“So you are assuming,” Lucius started to recite her theory, “that this... goblin, was a contact of some of the missing Erelion people... and that they are currently looking for something to do with death in order to get the Fire Stone?”

Vintressa nodded... which only caused the Emperor to growl again in thought.

“Maybe the note simply means that by touching the Fire Stone they’ll die if they’re not of your bloodline,” Royukgan offered.

“In which case we’d have nothing to worry about!” Raven said with a sarcastic tone. “No, I doubt its that. Why waste the time to send the note?”

“Maybe it means we should be focusing on more important matters than two missing people in rags,” Lucius said slowly. “Diogenes’ dragnet got something in the wee hours of this morning... several dispatches from House Erelion.” Normally a quip about Diogenes’ tendencies to be like a canine might have been thrown in, but by his tone the Emperor was not in a joking mood.

“What did they find?” Vintressa asked in a hushed tone.

“The conspiracy was widespread,” Lucius said after a sigh. “It is clear very few were clear on the details of the actual attack, but many were clear on what would happen in the aftermath of the planned... ‘decapitation,’ as they called it,” the Emperor said darkly.

“How far does it go?” Valaron asked.

“The secretary to the Chief Prelate of the Tarantor Church,” Lucius said quietly. “One of the Underchains of the Church of Kord here in Iskeldrun, House Donibar, House Munifent...” the Emperor’s voice trailed off. “We don’t know how much further. Most alarmingly were the instructions sent with these dispatches, now that the plot has failed. For those who wish to overthrow this government to marshal their forces near Thuyiden... north of Comnitas.” The Emperor rested his head in his hands quietly.

“A... rebellion?” Royukgan asked quietly. He had seen the Imperial Guard, and heard stories of its fearsome power. He could not fetter why someone would willing take on such a force when it was not only whole... but enraged.

“Depending on how deep their support is... we could be facing anything from a few desperate knaves trying to ‘fight to the last,’ to a full scale civil war,” Lucius sighed again. When he brought his face up, he did not look like a young, vigorous 34 year old man. Instead, the lines on his tired face made him look twice his age.

“Well... we’ll crush them dad! Just like the last time any of the nobles rose up!” Valaron said decisively, even while he held his still smarting cheek.

“I hope so,” Lucius smiled sadly at his son’s bravado. The boy had never seen a full scale war, and so he had only the stories of glory to base his statement on. Not the blood and gore of an actual battle... like his father. “It all reminds me of why I didn’t want to be here in the first place,” he sighed. For a few moments, silence hung in the air, before Lucius turned to the children, purpose in his eyes.

“Well,” he cleared his throat. “Considering this, we have a job to do. And Vintressa, considering this new information, I agree with you. I trust Diogenes, not necessarily those under him. None of this will reach him,” Luke said, before pausing. Quickly, he nodded to himself decisively. “Yes. That is how we shall proceed. And it makes all of you even more important now.”

“How so?”

“They wanted this... Fire Stone so bad they tried to blackmail us and kill your mother. We cannot allow them to have it. If I didn’t have these robes to wear, I would go out myself to find it. But I’ll need to send one of you instead!”

“One of us? Why not both?” both Val and Vintressa cried.

“Too risky. To risk both heirs on the same mission? Foolhardy. Vintressa, your mind is sharp and keen. I’ll need you here... to watch the security people as they hunt the culprits. That means you, Val, will be headed to the Valley.”

“The Valley? Why do you think I should start there?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. Starting in the Valley means I’ll be close to...

“One... there are people I trust to help you there. Raven’s parents, for one. Several other friends who I know are loyal in the Kord, Hieroneous and Tarantor churches as well. Secondly, that’s the last that I know of where that stone was at.”

“The Valley? Why did it end up there?” Vintressa wondered.

“Well, you know the story of how myself and your mother met. And of how I was originally betrothed to the Emperor’s granddaughter. As part of her dowry, she was rumored to be bringing a massive ruby, the size of two fists put together. However, in the chaos of the demon invasion, and the death of the Emperor, the stone became of secondary concern,” Lucius admitted.

“Once the demon staff was destroyed, I know myself and many others assumed that the stone was useless without its parent device. And as House Erelion was already grumbling, and Comnitas was near revolt, things were left ignored that probably should not have been.”

“Now, I am guessing you probably would want someone to check up on Val... make sure he remains safe,” Vintressa offered. “As well as someone who is adept at libraries and searching records?” Her eyes drifted over to Raven, who looked worriedly between the princess, Valaron, and the Emperor.

“Yes. Raven would be a good choice,” Lucius gave a slight smile, the first of his arrival. “They say you are good at defense, and someone with experience at the Academy undoubtedly can do a little reading.”

“Yes, Uncle,” Raven bowed her head again, nervous to the core as Valaron shot her an angry, dirty look.

“Now, Val,” Luke turned his attention back to his eldest son, “In Kulloden and Irulas, at the Temple Libraries, there is information on the Demon’s Rebellion, the staff, and the Great Diamond. I am hoping there lies information on the Fire Stone as well, considering the close ties the three have had. And your Aunt’s... ‘friends’” Luke looked at Royukgan, before looking back at his son, “are in many places in the Valley. They should help.” No reason to tell the foreign prince about Tess’ organization...

“Yes father. I’ll do my best!” Valaron said with a brave smile. His eyes then flicked towards his new erstwhile travel partner, and inwardly he groaned.

The council meeting was brutally short, and the four friends found themselves waiting barely fifteen minutes before the chamber doors burst open and Lucius stormed out, fury etched on his face.

“It’s war,” he said simply, as his two children, his adopted niece, and the young foreign prince fell in behind. “House Vendome turned over to us this morning a letter they claimed was ‘unsolicited,’ demanding the other barons rise up in arms against me!” Lucius snarled. “I’d expect that many other houses have recieved these letters calling for open rebellion!”

“We’ll still beat them,” the Emperor heard his son say confidently.

“We’ll find out shortly. I’ve ordered a meeting of the regis terra, leaders of the land, to demand their fealty and loyalty, as well as ask for their renewed support,” Lucius said quietly. “The barons within the city, as well as the heads of the various churches and monastic orders should be arriving in the Throne Room within the hour.... then I’ll find out how deep this plot goes.”

“They’d be foolish not to back the Dragon Emperor,” Valaron repeated again, confidence riding high in his voice. “You are unmatched in war!”

“War?” Vintressa asked quietly. The princess nervously glanced outside the rows of windows the small entourage passed as they walked through the palace, and one by one, the distant towers of the innermost city towers became ablaze... warning fires lit on their turrets.

“Yes... I’ve ordered the Imperial army to be mustered,” Lucius growled. “Diogenes expects within two weeks we can put together our first army... forty thousand foot and twenty thousand horse.”

Valaron’s eyes betrayed nothing less than excitement. “Father, do I have to go to the Valley? I’d be more useful in one of the armies, leading from the front!” he half whined, half gibbered in excitement. His mind filled with the stories he had heard from the officers that had served sixteen years before and from Kelir. The stories of glory won on the battlefield. Of meeting demons and beasts head on... of do-or-die situations, and the victorious, glorious triumph.

His comment prompted his father to stop his strides forward, and turn to the young man, eyes dead serious.

“You are fortunate. You have never seen a full battle. It is not as much glory and glamour as the stories made it. They leave out the carnage, the blood, the broken souls!” the Emperor half growled. At seeing his son recoil slightly, a sad half-smile began to from on Luke’s face. “You are so fortunate, and yet you don’t realize it!” He looked up for a second, before turning around to continue his march. “No, you’re going to go with Raven and some guardsmen to Kulloden! Its the opposite direction from Comnitas, and there you’ll find this Fire Stone... as well as helping our friend!” the Emperor gave a vague reference to Ari.

Royukgan had not been privy to their discussion about the prismatic dragon. And while it looked increasingly likely he was mentioned only as a bluff to extend the threat to cover friends of the Emperor, Lucius didn’t want to take any chances. Valaron was to take Ari with him, and guard the inquisitive creature as well as possible.

Below his breath, in a voice he hoped his son would not hear, the Emperor also muttered, “You’ll be safer there. You are like your mother... you would be reckless. I’ll let you be reckless where there is less chance of you hurting yourself...”

“But father-“ Valaron’s teenage whine started, only to halt as seeing his father not even turn to acknowledge it. His head fell, he knew he’d lost.

“Vintressa, this makes your job more important,” the Emperor said after a few minutes of silence. “I have utmost confidence in the palace guard, but as for the other security personnel... I believe your suspicions are correct. Hemmel had help getting this close to us, even if it took him five years to work his way in,” the Emperor mused aloud. “Diogenes will be marching out with the second army, which will be ready in a month’s time. And I have no doubt your mother will march out as well.”

“So I’ll be in charge of the palace?” Vintressa asked warily, to a nod from the Emperor. “But, I mean...”

“Vintressa, you’ve shown me you have an intelligent mind on your shoulders... and a cool, steady hand. You will not be alone... the City Governor will still be here.” The Emperor then turned his head again. “And I need you to watch over the palace, your two younger siblings, and Prince Royukgan. This is perhaps the safest place for them!”

“Yes father,” she nodded in understanding.

“And now, if you’ll follow me, I would appreciate you four by my side when I demand loyalty from this rabble,” the Emperor growled. “And meet a group that I know all of you have heard of that can help us.”



The Imperial Throne room had always been designed to inspire fear and awe in whoever entered its depths seeking a meeting with the Imperial Person. Its massive marble and gilt colors, decorated in beautiful colors, and its ornate and priceless silk tapestries, depicting battles won and glory gained, were all expressly designed for this purpose. And as overly ornate and gaudy as the current Emperor may have thought it was when he first sat on the throne, Lucius now realized its purpose, even to the point of adding his own touch to the immense hall.

Hanging above the massive Dragon Throne, its gilt form rising in mighty fury above the Emperor’s head, hung another form of draconic fury... this one preserved in its final roar.

The eyes of the great wyrm Stalatan’s head were, of necessity, fake. The teeth, scales, horns and the like were not. And their formidable form now loomed over a bevy of the elite of the Imperial society, come to give condolences to the Emperor and cries of support. Word had spread through the city like wildfire, and at Vintressa’s insistence, Luke had written up an official statement of what happened, to stop rumors from flying.

In the spacious hall in front of them, Valaron and Vintressa could make out the High Prelate of the Church of Tarantor, the Most Holy Commander of the Righteous, chief of the Hieroneous Church, His Holiness, Speaker of the Light from the Church of Pelor, and many of the other chiefs of the sanctioned religions of the Empire. Most of the nobles currently in the city were present, adding a riot of color to the crowd.

Somewhere out there was also the representative of the one institution and family that the two twins wanted to talk to. Their leader could not be present... she was currently absent from the Empire... and likely completely off-world.

Aunt Tess would know what to do, Vintressa thought quietly as the parade of pomp and circumstance filed into the room. Even as the Chief Prelate began an opening prayer asking the Empire and her father to be blessed, and justice be done to the offenders, Vintressa could see her father’s hands gripping the throne so hard that his knuckles were white.

‘Aunt Tess’ had been the third and, in Vintressa’s mind, most important cog of the old traveling friends from some time before. The bard was not only beautiful, but sharp-minded. Frequently, when her ‘Uncle’ Shaun had run around like a fowl with no head, and Vintressa’s own mother had wanted to draw her blade and fight almost certain doom, Tess had figured out a way for them to come to the best situation... and save their hides.

True, she did have several breakdowns involving interrogating evil after her own brother was slain, and true, she did single-handedly cause all the Nine Hells to want her dead, but she’d somehow survived... not only survived, Vintressa corrected herself, but thrived.

Vintressa had always been saddened that Tesseron was not around as much as the other friends of her parents. She’d sit by the bard’s knee many times, listening and learning how to reason, think, and when to act on instinct, and when to sit down and use logic. It was Aunt Tess that got her started on mind puzzles early on, and taught her that for every situation, there were multiple paths... one merely had to plan.

Aunt Tess... what would you do? Vin thought to herself as the Chief Prelate finished his longwinded prayer, and en masse the nobles present repeated their oaths of allegiance. Sit down and think for a few moments, discover my opponents wants and goals, Tess’ voice replied quietly from Vintressa’s memory, figure out what they want, why they want it, and how they are prepared to get it. Then, and only then, will I come up with a response. If I know all three of the above... then... then I can hit them from three points; deny them what they want, deny them their reason for wanting it, or deny them the means to get it.

What do they want?

The Fire Stone... and Ari. Or did they really want Ari? They mentioned him in passing... they might just have wanted to hint danger to Aunt Elenya and Uncle Shaun...

Why do they want it?

It has some kind of power likely. What power? I don’t know. I need to answer that.

How are they going to get it?

They can’t. They need someone of Caladron blood to fetch it... This part of the problem also stuck in her mind as well.

As the monotonous series of prayers from all the churches dragged to a close, Vintressa barely listened as her father announced there had indeed, been an assassination attempt on the Empress, that it had failed, and that the culprits were being tracked down. Of course he didn’t name names... only few parts of what was no doubt a widespread conspiracy were known... possibly even one or more of the many gathered here that had only minutes before prayed for long life to the Emperor.

Not naming anyone put everyone on notice. And when the guilty are on notice... there’s a higher chance they’ll do something incriminating...

The Emperor then spoke of the letters, the threats for insurrection. He added in some savory details Xanadu had deemed prudent to add in as ‘filler,’ pieces of information that weren’t actually in the seized letters, but could be reasonably inferred, knowing how the Baron Erelion operated. Some of these included how House Erelion planned to kill off other noble families and divide up the land, of what chaos and prolonged civil war would destroy in terms of revenues, livelihoods, and human suffering. It was an appeal to the minds, hearts, guts, and pocketbooks of those present to ally with the current ruling family, and crush the rebellion as quickly as possible, to save as much of the country from war as possible.

The Emperor then issued the call for fealty, asking those that would stay with the Emperor to kneel, and before all of the gods aligned, swear loyalty to the crown. To the surprise of the four young people, they could hear the noise of footfalls from people leaving the hall. The crowd was too large to see who, but none had any doubt the Emperor had people watching to catalogue who refused to swear loyalty.

The rest, en masse, fell on one knee, and thousands then placed their heads upon their knees, speaking the words in old Common that translated to, “One Emperor for One Empire, we swear loyalty to the Draconic Crown!”

The pledge was something that was bound with holy power... it was an oath sworn in front of the highest clerics of most of the patron dieties and saints of these very noble houses. Failure to follow through with such an oath would undoubtedly bring chaos on their house.

However, Vintressa’s politically astute mind realized, the oath merely called for loyalty, not active support. It was entirely reasonable that a baron swear loyalty to the crown and thus not take up arms against it. He wasn’t required to actively provide troops, as long as he paid his taxes, respected imperial laws, etc. And from the perspective of many of these nobles, who had no idea someone had come so close to taking out the Emperor, the wise course of action would be to sit on the sidelines.

In the dirty politics of the Imperial nobility, being a bystander was always preferable to being on a potentially losing side in a squabble of these proportions.

As the nobles, prelates, churchmen, and other notaries began to file out, a single man, clad in a uniform of brown color, emblazoned with a sky blue chimera, stepped forward. With a deep bow, he held out his hand in a posture of giving to the Emperor, and ancient custom where the subject symbolically offered their obedience to the ruler.

Vintressa could make out words on his hand as her father thanked him. As soon as the words came from the Emperor’s mouth, the words vanished, and the man stood, bowed again, and excused himself.

When the great doors to the room closed, and they were alone, Vintressa was immediately by her father’s side.

“What did it say? What news from the organization!?”

“How do you know it was from Aunt Tess’ group?” Lucius raised an eyebrow.

“Because she sends people to you with magical writing on their hands that only appears in your presence,” Valaron rolled his eyes. “Its obvious. I’m sure the others in the organization do it as well!”

“My, how perceptive you are,” Luke smiled. “Very simply, she’s heard of the... incident, and she is traveling back to focus her own people to help us out. She’ll be teleporting in within a few days...”

“She will!?” Vintressa jumped up excitedly.

“ Which means for the next two days you’re going to stay put, Val... at least until we can find out how many of her people can help you out.” I’m not about to let you go off in the wild if there is more help I can spare...



Hemmel growled as another mug was placed in front of him. He looked up at the waitress, and gave her a gruff nod of thanks. Taverns were an excellent place to pick up rougher mannerisms and speech... something Hemmel would have to re-learn after spending five years in the Imperial Court.

His eyes took in the crowd calmly and coolly. It was the early morning folks at the Pony Alehouse and Eatery were busy enjoying one of the establishment’s trademarks... its excellent poached eggs for breakfast. In fact, Hemmel was enjoying some himself, and he did have to admit that for their price of a silver piece, it was very good.

Hemmel chuckled at the irony, just before the numerous itches in his chin annoyed him again. In slight frustration, he scratched the long shadow growing over his face, and the greasy hair that covered his head. At the palace, he had been used to shaving often, and cleaning his hair frequently. After only a few days of not doing such, his appearance had started to change.

I am eating in the business owned by the friend of my enemy, he chuckled, stuffing another piece of egg in his mouth. It had been a boon that he’d stumbled on this place, and its very friendly and talkative staff.

It was here that Hemmel found out the Dice family had extensive connections all over the Valley. They owned a series of chicken farms outside the city that gave them a steady supply of eggs for the tavern. They owned stakes in several of the local mines. They owned a series of magic shops in Kulloden, Holstean and Irulas. The more Hemmel heard, the elder Dice sounded less and less like a reformed thief and more and more like a consumate investor and businessman.

He also learned more of the matriach of the family, that she was head of the local Mages’ Guild, and being eyed by one of the various ‘schools’ of Magic, the Council of the Fine Art of Abjurance, as a possible council member.

Amazing one can learn with a few questions, and more listening at the proper locations, Hemmel thought, sipping on the wine he’d been handed. It was cheap, he could tell, but palatable. He’d had far worse.

Quietly he looked up at the bar. The same halfling was there, smiling and laughing with what Hemmel assumed was a regular. It was apparent the short creature was on a stool of some sort when he suddenly did a handstand, and thrust his hand out towards the other man.

Behind him was an young woman with raven hair and green eyes... the same girl that Hemmel had thought was following him for a few minutes after his arrival in the city. Now it was apparent who she was... daughter of the Dice’s. His brain categorized her as one to watch.

Fortunately, none of them pertained to his plans in the city... nor the color-filled boy that showed up occassionally and was quite loud. House Erelion did not care about the dragon... it had been a herring tossed in for expressly this situation. Hemmel had failed once... but he would not fail again.

He finished the rest of his eggs, and waited fort he waitress to come over to collect his plate before placing a few copper beside the dirty dishes as he rose to leave. Hemmel might be an assassin, but there were some aspects of civilization he would keep with him.

“You are a kind gentleman, sir,” the young woman nodded her head in thanks as she picked up the dishes.

A gentleman, the words struck a chord in Hemmel, before he shook his head. No, he would not let his mind go there. With a polite smile, he thanked her for her compliment, and walked out of the tavern into the morning sun.

It would be a long day ahead, and he would have much planning to do.

The next three days for Eyrna and Simeon passed all too slowly as they trudged through the deep woods to the north of Iskeldrun. Batterner Wood had always been known as a place of secrecy, a place of plots and schemes. Its tangled depths allowed those who wished to talk of dark things to do so in private... if they knew the way in and more importantly, ways back out from the wood’s dark depths.

AS each day passed by, it seemed that the trees overhead grew thicker, more gnarled, and more frightening. The underbrush grew thicker, and at times both young nobles coudl swear that it tried to catch them repeatedly, as they often had to unwrap vines and roots from around their ankles.

Still they pushed forward, led by the dark man in black, who seemed to expertly navigate the confusing array as if it were his second home.

Each night, despite being cold, tired, and frequently hungry, the two siblings slept assured of one thing... their Uncle had recieved their message, and their backup plans were being played out.

Even now, Uncle is marshalling the armies at Thuyiden... she thought quietly. From then on out, things depended on who led the initial imperial attack on the gathering forces... and who answered her uncle’s call.

If the nobles of the Empire rose in arms, or even if most of them merely stood aside, House Erelion stood a chance. If most fell on their colleagues, it would be a great slaughter...

Which is why we need that stone! she heard her uncle’s voice again. With its power, we can turn the tide of battle! That need was the only reason she was willingly out this far in the woods, putting up with cold and their... unusual companion.

As darkness fell on the fourth day, the same routine that had been done for the previous many began. Their ‘friend’ leaned his back against a tree, and began a slight doze while Eyrna and Simeon went to fetch kindling. They let this happen because he would stand watch all night, allowing them to sleep peacefully... in theory.

This night, Eyrna had found several fine pieces, not too large or too small, and dry enough that they would light with ease. Carrying them haphazardly, she started back towards the camp.

She heard a rustling in the leaves of the forest, a cracking of twigs. The noise wasn’t unusual... Simeon, like her, was most defintely not a woodsman, and always made a racket returning to wherever their campsite was. Eyrna, however, had learned rather early to avoid the more obvious branches... it might be necessary in the future to slip away quietly...

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a dark shape moving rapidly, but when she turned, it had vanished into the growing gloom. Fear coursed through her veins slightly more, and she began to gingerly run back towards the camp, as quickly as possible... only to stop in confusion...



Simeon stumbled back into the small campsite, breathing heavily. His pile of kindling was high enough he had to peer around it to see ahead, and he was fairly sure that the dark man would complain about his loudness again.

Bracing himself, he let the logs drop onto the central pit that had already been dug. His ears heard no complaints, however, and he looked up in surprise.

Only to see three dark robes, instead of one... and they were all looking directly at him.

He wasn’t sure what part of his mind jumped to the conclusion that something was terribly wrong... it seemed his entire being began to scream warnings to him. Slowly, he started backing away, his hands upraised in a gesture of peace. His mouth started to open, but such an immense and great fear seized him that only gurgles came out.

Suddenly, he felt something very cold, and very sharp, prick the midpoint of his back. Immediately the young man stopped, as the familiar long, dark fingers of their companion appeared on his shoulder, gripping it tightly. They spun him around.

For the first time, Simeone came face to face with his former traveling companion and guide. His face was sharp, chiseled at angles. The skin, just like his robe, was ebony black, and his large eyes glowed white... with blood red irises. Long, billowing white hair floating down from his head, and brilliant white teeth showed when he gave a sickening smile.

“Do not run, Lord Simeon. We have much use for you yet,” his deep voice rumbled. “Lord Vecna, to raise the dead like you have asked, requires a living sacrifice.” His eyes admiringly looked over the young noble’s body.

“One of equal stature to the one about to be raised. You’ll do nicely indeed.”



Eyrna watched in horror from some hundred feet away the unfolding scene. She’d seen her brother backing away from the three dark robed men, only to have three more take him from behind. BY the look on Simeon’s face, the words that were being sad to him were anything but polite introductions. Then she saw the thin gray of a blade being held to his back.

Carefully, Eyrna slinked backwards, edging away from the camp for a few hundred more feet, before breaking into a dead run, as fast as her legs would carry her.

Damn that dark elf! her mind snarled, I knew we could not trust him! ‘His faith shouldn’t be an issue!’ she thought of her uncle’s calm reassurance. ’He doesn’t believe like the others in his kindA! Our secrets are safe with him!’ Apparently, he felt his secrets were not safe enough with us!

Her rage at the apparent betrayal did not last long, as hunger and fear took over. Hunger at the lack of food in her body... cold from the fact there was no fire for her to warm by. Fear from what she’d heard about the drow... and bout this forest.

There were legends that this forest had carnivorous trees... that the unwary would be eaten alive. Ominously, a gust of wind blew through the forest, causing the branches to creak and groan...

She dashed further, running onward.

She had heard stories of his kind... a kind that had been dead, exiled for centuries. Save for a few, like him...

They track well in the dark... night is their element, she remembered as she jumped behind a tree. Six of them!? That would be more than... no... not all of them could have been drow!

As she took another breather from her mad dash, hiding behind another tree, her blood ran cold, thinking more of this particular drow’s history. Of what happened to his people, and their long-standing quest for revenge.

And how House Erelion had just been duped into helping him.

Her dash through the woods was entirely too loud, entirely too obvious. She knew this, yet she hoped to see someone, that could spread the warning to her family that they were about to be betrayed.

She never saw the dark figures behind her, and had no warning that a slingstone was headed for the back of her head…



Half of any battle is not physical... it’s mental, a voice echoed in Valaron’s head. If you win the fight within your mind, you are halfway towards winning the fight with your blade.

The prince watched with keen interest as the originators of those words stood at the far end of the practice chamber, morning’s light giving their blades a shining glint. The two combatants circled slowly, each watching the other, gauging the other, their eyes never moving away from their quarry.

Three blades glinted in the light filtering into the stone room. One was snow white, giltwork running along the center of the blade itself. Another was pitch black, small red flecks along its length indicating that normally it would be wreathed in flames in combat. The third was a cool steel blade, with words carved elegantly into its flanks in red. Normally, it too would be wreathed in flames.

The calm before the storm lasted only a moment longer, before a sudden, rapid series of clangs broke the morning silence, a barrage of noise that suddenly assaulted the prince’s ears. Only a moment later, the noise ceased, and both combatants still stared at each other, blades at ready.

To the normal eye, the quick, slashing was too fast to catalogue as movement. To Valaron’s trained eyes, the simple elegance of his father’s feints and his mother’s slashes looked like a masterpiece.

A split second later, the three blades flashed through the air again, once more at lightning speed. No more than what seemed a second or two later, it was all over. The Emperor’s blade was pinned by Siabrey’s katana to the floor, while her washazaki danced near his throat.

“How did I do, Val?” the Empress called, lowering her blade with a grin. “Not bad for someone recovering from a shoulder injury, hm?” Her eyes then turned back to her sparring partner, and she gave him a loving smile. “Fooled you too, didn’t I? Wouldn’t be the first time!”

“You’ve always been a better sparring master than me,” Lucius excused himself.

“Val, tell your father where he went wrong!” Siabrey laughed, sheathing both of her blades before giving her husband a kiss. “He should’ve...”

“...went after you aggressively after his first feints were addressed. He ended at the high guard position, a good place to attack from but a poor place to defend, especially considering he was outnumbered in terms of blades,” Valaron said expertly. “He took the aggressive stance, he should have continued with aggressive tactics.”

“Exactly,” Siabrey tweaked her husband’s nose before walking the length of the chamber towards her son. “Said by a true expert,” she grinned, before her eyes took on a more serious look. “I’m still not finished with morning spars... and it seems my current partner is too chicken to continue,” she smirked at Lucius.

“The Council meets every morning at this time. I’m an Emperor, as well as swordsman,” Lucius tried to give an excuse. Siabrey’s dismissive wave to him made him laugh. “It’d be more fun to spar you though...”

“..Umhm. Whatever excuse suits you!” she flashed him a mischevious look. “Go, before you’re late and Diogenes and Xanadu start complaining!”

“Yes, m’lady,” Luke said with a mocking smile before leaving the chamber.

“Now,” Siabrey looked to her son, “do you think you can do any better than your father? Beating a woman that’s only a three-fourths strength?” she challenged. It was, after all, her first spar since her shoulder was ravaged nearly five days ago.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Val said, looking away from her slightly.

Valaron thought he was fast. He tracked her out of the corner of his eye, so that when his own katana and washazaki slashed out of their scabbards, he’d catch her by surprise. A few sharp clangs and clanks later, he found himself staring at the stone ceiling of the armory, the warm hilts of his two blades no longer in his hands.

“Good attempt... but your looking away gave away your surprise. Your father tried that tactic many times,” Siabrey extended a hand to her son and pulled him up. “You paused, just before you struck. Remember, your speed of mind is just as important as your speed of blade. Your strength up here,” she pointed to his forehead, “is just as important as your strength here,” she grabbed her arm, before releasing him. “Try again.”

Stymied, Valaron drew his blades at sword length from her, and carefully started to circle. His mind watched her movements, her ticks, her slight movements, trying to find an indication of what she was about to do. Something in his mind shouted at him to move, even before he saw her brow crinkle slightly, and as he jumped left, her blades slashed through the air.

The duel began renewed, ducking, weaving, swords twirling and dancing through the air. Val let his mind go... yielding conscious control to his instincts, his unconscious, and his blade danced to block hers at every turn. Finally, with a twist and pull, he yanked Kelir, her katana out of her hand. The blade skidded across the floor to the far side of the room.

“I think I have you, mom,” Val said with a predatory grin. He had a large katana and washazaki, versus her smaller washazaki alone. “Two blades against one small one...I’d say it’s rather unfair,” he continued to taunt, trying to test her mind. Such was one way to enter your opponent’s mind.

Siabrey’s face looked blank, her blade still extended in low guard...only one handed. When Valaron lunged to twist her other blade from her hand, the Empress moved with lightning speed, and Valaron once again found himself looking up at the stone ceiling.

“While you talked, I saw your eyes continuing to look at my blade, rather than at me. You told me your target!” she scolded him lightly while pulling him up again. “After that, it was merely a matter of using your own strength and confidence against you. Taunting is a two-edged sword... it can get you in trouble,” she cautioned.

“But you taunted Shivalas the assassin, and used his anger to defeat him with a broken blade,” Valaron brought up Siabrey’s own past.

“That was a special case,” the Empress said in reply. And I wasn’t in a good state of mind that day, she thought to herself. “Now... you’re fast enough and strong enough Val that you should be beating me regularly... but you haven’t bested me yet. Why is that?”

“You have twenty years more experience than I do?”

“Yes,” she rolled her eyes at his quip, “and you haven’t grasped this,” she pointed at his forehead again, “yet. When you grasp things up here, you’ll have me. When to strike, when to hold back. When to taunt, when to stare back in silence. What your opponents wants are, his goals, his desires, his methods. All of that,” she said, before giving a pat on the shoulder. “I’m afraid today’s lesson is going to be cut short.”

“I know,” Val said rather dejectedly. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the special person arriving at the palace to help. Far from it. He didn’t like the fact his morning sparring with his mom, one of the favorite parts of his day, was being cut short. “Vintressa has been raving about Aunt Tess for the past few days now.”

“Val, you look like a sourpuss,” Siabrey noted dryly. “Perhaps Aunt Tess has brought you a rare blade!” she offered, hoping to cheer him up a bit as they left the chambers together. It was exactly the thing their ‘Aunt’ was known to do...



“Now... who is this again?” Royukgan asked Vintressa quietly, hoping to distract her from the frown on her face. The constant jokes he’d made about her protecting him over the last three days had at last grown old... a fact she’d sharply told him of only a few moments before.

The three of them... himself, Vintressa and Raven were the official greeting part for Lady Baroness Tesseron Keldare, who would be arriving in one of the teleportation chambers in the Imperial palace. They would then take her to more private quarters where her old friends the Emperor and Empress would discuss the current mess with her.

“My Aunt Tesseron,” Vintressa replied rather coolly, as he was still in trouble, in her mind. “She, like Uncle Shaun and Aunt Elenya, are not my aunts by blood. I have none of those’ she is a close friend of my parent’s. She is a powerful user of magic, and a wise person.”

“A mage? Does she teach at the Academy?” Royukgan asked, not understanding.

“No. She is actually a musician. She is just able to use music to tap into the planes of magic, with powerful and devastating results. She traveled with my mother and father many years before... and from what they say, her power was something tremendous to behold,” Vintressa said distantly. “Powerful and wise is how they describe her!”

“Such as?” Royukgan pressed. “If she is such a powerful musician, then surely you can give some examples? What did she do, sing to inspire courage in hearts, or sing people into floating above chasms?” the prince laughed slightly.

“She made people’s heads explode, quite literally,” Raven said dryly, giving a disapproving look to Royukgan. “She turned people into dust, killed a dragon with her shriek...” Raven’s darkened face turned into a slight grin of superiority at seeing Royukgan’s eyes go wide.

“That’s not possible with music!” the prince stammered.

“Oh, go ahead and believe that!” Raven twisted the fear a little more. “We haven’t even told you what she did to people with her dagger,” she leaned towards him, eyes wide in a storyteller’s face.

“Um... so... I shouldn’t anger her?” he said quietly.

“It wouldn’t be smart. But she is really a nice person,” Vintressa added, trying to dissuade the fear Raven had put in his heart. She flashed a quick look to her friend, and shook her head no, before continuing, “She is the one that taught me how to think my way through problems.”

Royukgan caught the look between Vintressa and Raven, and by the look on his face, felt it safe to speak his mind. “So you blame her for your bad skills at chess?” he quipped, before throwing up an arm to hide behind.

Numerous sharp words came to Vintressa’s mind for a rebuttal, but that was quickly set aside as the middle of the chamber began to glow with light, and a swirling mist billowed from its center. Pulses of magical energy coursed around the circular walls along the outside, as the target arrived.

As the mists cleared, a woman clad in rather graceful and elegant robes stepped forth. A crown of blonde hair was braided and wrapped around her head, and while she was still beautiful enough that Royukgan’s jaw dropped, her face showed small, nascent wrinkles, a sigh of her 37 years of human life carrying the weight of her responsibilities... arguably as great as the burden Vintressa’s parents bore.

“Aunt Tess!” Vintressa broke from the other two and ran down her favorite ‘relative.’ She caught the tall woman in a great bearhug, causing the bard to stumble slightly.

“Oh, Vintressa! I’m afraid if you’d hugged me any harder you might have taken out one of my ribs!” Tess’ melodic voice chuckled. The princess released her grip, and Tess then turned to the other two present. “And Raven... my, you’ve grown since the last time I’ve seen you! How is your mastery of magic working?”

“Excellent,” Raven beamed, before bowing. The bard’s eyes then turned to the third face present... one she did not recognize.

“I am at a disadvantage, sir. I do not know your name,” she smiled.

“This is Prince Han Royukgan, son of the current lord of Han. He was here to study at the Academy, until he was attacked the same night Raven was,” Vintressa explained.

“I’m under her protection,” Royukgan grinned at Vintressa, who gave him a scowl.

“Ah... well, I daresay there are few hands that are more capable!” Tess smiled at the princess, causing her face to change from a scowl to a smile of thanks... and a slight bit of awe at such a compliment coming from her mentor. As Vintressa’s mouth tried to work to express some thanks, Royukgan gave a slight smirk, and spoke.

“Vinny thinks very highly of you, Baroness. She speaks of you as an excellent person, a wise sage, and a capable combatant.”

Tess gave a slight smile at seeing her ‘niece’ grow red at the statement, yet part of the bard’s agile mind wrapped around the words the prince had used. Vinny? No one else calls her that normally...

“So... it’s that bad?” Tesseron said an hour or so later. Her look flashed between her friends. The Emperor, fresh from another dour meeting with the Imperial Council this morn, came with news that at least ten barons were involved in the plot, and another fifteen or so had left the city in a sudden hurry over the past three days.

Among their names were some of the leading houses in the Empire... including two ArchDukes, five Dukes, and one person of Princely rank. Altogether, if they ever had a a chance to combine their forces, it would be most ‘bad’ indeed.

“Umhm,” Lucius nodded, a simple reply that in Vintressa’s mind did the situation no justice.

Umhm? A large rebellion, someone tried to kill us qualifies as an umhm, dad? her mind groaned. She, and Valaron were alone in the room with the other three. Raven had been told to keep Royukgan occupied, as information was about to be discussed that neither ruler felt it would be safe for him to be privy to.

For Tesseron Keldare was many things. A Baroness, peer of the Empire. A former headline entertainer at the greatest theaters and music halls within the Empire. A mother of three. A formidable adventurer and knowledge seeker.

But above all this, she was the head of an organization so unique, so powerful, that the Emperor and Empress had taken to referring it as ‘The Organization.’

It was known under many names in many realms... its reach was far and widespread. In Ak Konylu it was known as Aashio. Within the Valley, it had taken the name, ‘Angelic Mercy.’ Across the Empire it was known as ‘Angel’s Fire.’

For Tesseron Keldare was no normal bard... no normal bard was united with a solar, and committed to righting injustices where normal means and power could not reach. No normal bard, by her appearance, could make dukes, counts, or even princes quake, fearful of the possible power she would unleash. No normal bard carried within her voice a power and force for change as strong as an Imperial edict.

And no normal bard headed an brotherhood of thousands, spread across realms and oceans, dedicated to the same.

It had begun out of the frustrations of Tesseron Keldare and her two former companions, the present Emperor and Empress. Both were not of elite noble stock, and brought with them to the throne the idealistic charge of, “righting all wrongs, and taking care of the common man.’ Sadly, they quickly realized that politics and the other Powers That Be would constrict their means to do so.

Tess herself, meanwhile, was going through a catharsis at the same time. She felt horrible for some of the less than holy acts she had committed over the few months of the Demon Wars, and was seeking absolution. The need for wrongs to be righted that Imperial hands could not touch beckoned, and the bard used her wits, charm, and approachability to recruit others to help her.

Now, the ‘Angels,’ as they were secretly known, stretched where Imperial power wouldn’t or couldn’t. They operated outside the law, striking back at oppressive barons and secretly helping barons who were true stewards and caretakers of their people. They also acted as agents for the pantheons of Celestia, rooting out those who were lured to dark powers that were in positions of authority.

Her life meant that Tess had no true home. She wandered (or more often teleported) where she was needed, and depended on the hospitality of good and true folk for hearth and food. Her wandering soul did not mind such an existence, and her powers had grown to the point that she could teleport to her true home, in the remote heights of the northern Balarac Mountains, at will. Loyal servants and friends cared for her children, whom she visited daily.

Her ten years of such an existence had built up a network of people who kept her and her allies informed, ranging from lowly farmers and ferries, to the Emperor and Empress (when practical). In the eyes of many barons and the like, the word that Tesseron Keldare was at their doorstep was a cause to either rejoice (for those who followed hte path of righteousness and goodness), or tremble...

It was to this immense network Vintressa’s mother and father were turning to for information. Undoubtedly words had been dropped around agents, items carelessly mentioned that were being catalogued... and if the Imperial government could get this information...

“Great,” Tesseron groaned, and Vintressa watched her mentor roll her eyes and give a sigh. “Strange that this happens about the same time as my own mess!”

“What mess?” Siabrey asked uneasily. The Empress had changed from her sparring outfit to something only slight more imperial... her old battle armor.

“Well,” the bard closed her eyes, as if she could force the events away with her mind, “Several of my own people have run lost.”

“Several of your own people run lost?” Vintressa asked, confused.

“A year or so ago, my chief informant for Iskeldrun.... you may know him, Ratalas?”

Vintressa and Valaron’s mouths dropped. Ratalas was known as one of the best playwrights in Imperial history. His epics covered everything from the death of Emperors to comedies about the lives of the everyday man.

“He recruited several idealistic members of the Hieroneous church. A paladin named Evermyn and several hopefuls of hers. They were very enthusiastic, especially after they found out that a solar of Hieroneous was affiliated to this work,” Tess sighed.

“They had been following leads that spoke to the fact that there is a rather large and active cult to Vecna alive and well in the Empire,” she said slowly. The Emperor and Empress nodded in understanding, but Tess could read the looks of confusion on the faces of Vintressa and Valaron.

“Vecna was once an ancient king of Iskeldrun... many millenia ago,” Tess began explaining. “He wished for immortality, and with the help of the darkest of arts, he transcended life and death, becoming a lich... neither living nor dead, but an undead.”

“Seeings this potential for power, he created the first undead armies, and swept across the continent... until a group of righteous minded persons overthrew him, and destroyed his physical form. You might have heard of some of his foes... Cuthbert, Valerian, Sadelmar?”

“But Cuthbert and Sadelmar are gods!” Vintressa protested. The two had heard of the name Valerian... the first Emperor to rule from Iskeldrun, when the ‘Empire’ extended only a few miles from the city walls.

“Yes... Cuthbert is a saint of righteous retribution, closely affiliated with Hieroneous and Pelor. Sadelmar is the patron saint of archers. They were once mortals, that slew Vecna’s undead body... but Vecna’s soul has increased in power.”

“Many wanted his secret... the secret to unlife, to avoid death. And they began worshipping him, begging for the secret, giving him more and more power. Their power grew... especially among a tribe the dark elves within the mountains north of this very city. Rather unusual, considering most of the underfolk of that kind worship Llolth, another dark being. Either way, his cult with their worship eventually grew large and powerful... until the great rebellions some five hundred years ago.”

“Remember the stories of the evil temple in the desert that we ransacked?” Siabrey spoke up. “Temple to Hextor, another cult that was wiped out at the same time.” The two children nodded in understanding.

“The rebellions ended with the Emperors wiping out the dark elves as a power, and shattering the worshippers of Hextor and Vecna. Small cults have survived, but you will no longer find any open and powerful temples to the two,” Tess added.

“Like I said, Evermyn and her troop were following evidence that there is a sect of Vecna cultists still alive, and operating out of the Batterner Woods east of the city. They are being led by a dark elf named Elsidor, who at last we heard, was in hiding.”

“So some of the dark elves that worshipped Vecna survive?” Valaron asked unnecessarily.

“Yes... and this particular fellow is rather... potent.” Tess stopped, looking for proper words. “See... he is over five hundred years old, and he is the son of the last prince of the drow tribe wiped out by the Emperors.”

Eyes widened in understanding.

“As such, he is enraged at the Empire, and has been for five centuries. To make things worse, he’s used his time researching magic and plotting vengeance... he has power that is probably the equal of some of the greatest wizards known!” Her voice then dropped, “And just before they stopped reporting... they said he had been contacted by House Erelion...”

“Why? What for?” there was a tinge of alarm in Siabrey’s voice. Her face showed she was thinking of numerous possible connections, none of which were pleasant.

“That, I don’t know... see, Evermyn has gone... well... rogue, for lack of a better word,” Tess sighed.

“She went from being a paladin to a thief?” Valaron asked again.

“No... she has decided to be... independent of our organization. See, this Elsidor, some forty years back, decided to test his powers. He came out of hiding, and using magic, boiled alive a small village... the village of Evermyn’s parents. She was but a small girl, and luckily out in the forest playing with her friends.” The bard stopped for a moment, as the image raced through everyone’s mind.

“The pain that such evil caused made her want to join the paladins of Hieroneous in the first place. Its just, when she found out this was the same Elsidor, she became... unhinged,” the bard settled on the proper term. “Righteous vengeance.”

“How... unhinged?” Lucius asked carefully.

“We don’t know. Most of her troop has followed her out... many were also survivors of this... unusual event. The few that did not go out have very little to say... other than Evermyn intends to kill Elsidor.”

“Serves him right!” Valaron pronounced. “When she comes back, I say she should be given a medal!”

“What in the world would House Erelion have wanted to talk to a powerful wizard that worships the god of secrets? Ressurection of someone?” Lucius rambled out the obvious thoughts as his mind sorted the information.

“Well, if Erelion wanted to raise someone, and destroy the Imperial hierarchy by doing so, they certainly wouldn’t be able to get any of the major churches to help, would they? You heard what Diogenes said about their lead in the Tarantor Church!” Siabrey jumped in.

The Emperor grunted. “Yes... he expressed verbal support, nothing more. Who would they want to raise though? Someone of our bloodline?” Lucius’ voice suddenly trailed off, as it hit him like a thunderbolt.

Seeing this, Siabrey’s eyes went wide, as her own mind immediately jumped from why they would be wanting to raise someone, to a specific person. A person they had sent to the afterlife some sixteen years before....

Tess read both of their eyes, and gauged what was happening.

“No, Lucius, she cannot come back,” Tess reassured him. “The Countess’ soul was destroyed, as was her body. Her dusty remains were tossed into the Celestial Sea! That I made sure of!”

Valaron’s brow wrinkled. Both he and his sister had heard of ‘The Countess’ before. She was the evil sorceress that tried to kill his parents before he was born... and raised the demon armies that had been crushed so many years before. But why did dad mention her in the same sentence as our bloodline? Was she a relative?

“Why would they raise her?” the prince blurted out. “Was she a relative of yours, father?” Vintressa as well leaned in eagerly to hear their reply... and both got confused when their parents winced.

“Um... yes. She was,” Siabrey said quickly, before turning to Tess. “So, if not her, then who?”

“Well, if what the rumors I’ve heard are true... he’s got a good mind for necromancy, and controlling the undead...”

“...so he just needs a body,” Luke groaned.

“So we just send people to guard the tomb of the Emperors!” Vintressa shrugged simply. “Keep him from getting close... oh wait,” she suddenly realized something important, “You’re the first of this line, aren’t you father?”

“Yes... he’s headed for the old family tombs, out in the Valley,” Lucius said. “Dammit!”

“Where are your family’s tombs in the Valley?” Tess asked insistently.

“The family catacombs I know of are in the mountains south of Holstean… those go back as long as the Caladron families held the title of Count. I know not of any other crypts or catacombs,” Lucius answered. “I believe you have already been there,” he said, a very distant smile on his face at how he’d first met his wife and Tess. The smile was small and fleeting, replaced by a frown at both him not being able to go secure his family’s resting place, and the prospect that there was not a single foe facing him anymore.

“Don’t worry Luke, I’ll be off there-“ Tess started.

“Valaron and Raven will be headed with you. He is supposed to be going to the Valley anyway,” Lucius interrupted. “And I’ll send some of the elite guards… a few, nothing that would raise a major fuss. He’s gotten skilled with his blade, and Raven has some magic. And if people do recognize you for who you are, you have the cover of explaining it’s a trip of some kind…” Lucius reasoned aloud.



“Hmmm... very intriguing,” Elisdor said slowly, looking over the small, raised mound of dirt in front of him. Overhead the gnarled growth of forest blotted out the light of the sun. The drow looked down at the wide eyed young man his comrades held bound.

“Simeon, do not worry! You have several days left in your life! Have you ever been to the Valley before?” he asked, running a hand mockingly along the boy’s cheek. The binding was hardly ever released, and thus the young noble’s face was constantly torturous and filled with pain. Simeon shook his head, grunting.

“Oh... well, then you are in for a treat!” Elsidor laughed callously. “You’ll get to see a new place, and an undead person before you leave this world!” The drow then turned to his comrades, holding out his hands.

“Come brothers, let us combine our powers...” he intoned, and roughly Simeon was thrown into the center of the circle formed by the six dark figures. The six joined their hands, and chants of power rose in the air...

Eyrna was used to waking to the smells of perfume and sweet aromas in the air, and thus the sharp smell of unwashed bodies assaulted her nose with a fury that caused her to jerk upwards.

Straight into several cords and ropes binding her to the blanket she laid upon.

“Ah ah,” she heard a voice say. Desperately the young noblewoman tried to open her eyes, only to be greeted with more blackness.

Am I blind!? her mind panicked. She let out a scream, a cry, only to hear it muffled, as the feeling of something over and in her mouth washed through her jaw. She felt air swirling ever so slightly over her body, as if someone near her was moving. Rather quickly, the warm wafts of someone breathing fell over her face. A split second later, she felt something being moved from the sides and back of her head... before bright light suddenly blinded her eyes.

“I think we’re far enough away that you can be allowed to see,” the same voice said. Now that she had a second to catalogue it, she realized it was a woman’s voice, though slightly craggy and rough. As her eyes adjusted, she realized the dark shape floating over her was the face of a woman, her head surrounded by a braid of red curls, the slightly pointed ears of a half-elf rising from the sides of her head. The woman then reached down, and Eyrna gasped as her mouth was free from its binds as well.

“Don’t worry about trying to escape... there’s no reason to,” the woman said. “You’re well guarded... as well as bound to the ground, for the time being.”

“Who are you?” Eyrna mouthed raspily. Her memory of faces was failing her. I have never seen this woman before...

The woman’s other features slowly became more visible... like the fact she was clad in a dark brown robe that seemed to positively engulf her. More alarming, through her hood, glimpses of shining, glinting metal were visible... armor.

“If you really must know, Eyrna Erelion,” the woman said, her face changing into a look of disdain, “My name is Evermyn Yusal... and I right wrongs.” The woman’s face looked up, and then gave a nod to someone Eyrna couldn’t see, before turning back. “Now, you were traveling with several people I’m very interested in talking with... and yet we found you alone, running through the forest at night. Quite dangerous,” she observed dryly.

What does this woman want? Eyrna asked instinctively. She knows? Or is she bluffing? Is she even from the Emperor?

“Why do you bind me so?” Eyrna asked, ignoring Evermyn’s unsaid question.

“Well, as soon as I discover why you stopped traveling with Elsidor, I might be able to unbind you...” the woman offered.

Eyrna was speechless, her mouth agape. She knows his name! She knows of the plot, she knows it all! the young woman assumed.

“To set you at ease, I know why you were traveling with him originally. Master Chamoval talked quite eagerly when provided the proper motivation,” the half-elf gave a distant and scary smile.

They... oh gods... Eyrna began to do something that normally happened very rarely...

...she started to panic.

“I...he...” she stammered, eyes wide as she felt something very cold and hard slide next to her throat.

“I have every reason to kill you for helping that dark elf!” the woman’s face suddenly contorted into a look of absolute rage. “Have you ever seen your parents boil alive?!” Evermyn’s eyes were wide, her face having blanched in fury. “That is what he did! And you’ve helped him set lose, and run amok!” she snarled.

A stinging pain ran through Eyrna’s neck, and she felt a slight, growing wetness there. As the long dagger came within view, the noble could see the thin line of blood along its edge, framed by the half elf’s furious face.

“I think it best that you answer all the questions I ask you,” she snarled, “or the next time this knife enters you, it will not be as a quick and shallow as a paper-cut!”

Alone, frightened and scared, Eyrna talked. For seemingly hours, she told everything she knew... of the plot, of the deal with Elsidor, of the dark elf’s betrayal. To her horror, the woman leaning over her grew more and more infuriated, her eyes growing more and more deadly with each word spoken...



Valaron took in a deep breath, looking out towards the massive plaza and gardens that stood next to the Imperial palace.

The young prince knew that war was a serious business, nothing to be proud of or excited about; that fact had been drilled into his head numerous times. Nonetheless, the noise from below... the barking of orders, the whump-snap of attention, banners flapping in the breeze, made his mind drift back to the stories he’d been raised with.

Down below, on one of the rare Iskeldrun breed of horses, was the woman he’d said goodbye to earlier that day. The Empress’ gilt and steel armor, polished after over a decade without use, stood out brilliantly against the faintly sky-blue flanks of the horse she rode. The two figures were slowly going up and down the lines of the Kubalia Horse Guards regiment of the Imperial Guard, their own blood red shields finishing the awesome display.

“I thought we were done fighting,” he heard a voice say softly next to him. Valaron turned to see his father looking down, seemingly ages older. He too would be marching out in another few days with a second army... as soon as several allies answered his call.

The Emperor had wanted to wait until Xanadu could call upon several of his dragon-kin to assist before marching out with one massive army. The Empress, however, was true to her aggressive nature, and reasoned that marching out as quickly as possible with a large force of Imperial Guards could disrupt Erelion from gathering their forces. She also reasoned that if it looked like she would be outnumbered, the Imperial Guard troops could outmarch their opponents and avoid a fight until the Emperor could arrive.

The strategy offered a chance at ending the rebellion with minimal fighting; likely Erelion’s troops would arrive at the mustering ground piecemeal... so if the Empress got there first...

“What do you mean father?” Val asked, confusion on his face. They said dad was a frightening warrior in his youth. Why would be not look forward to a fight, especially when its a chance to put House Erelion away forever?

Lucius turned and simply rubbed his son on his head... ever growing closer to the Emperor’s own height. “When you’re older and have seen more of the world, you’ll understand fully what we mean when we tell you not to look forward to a fight.”

“Yes father.”

“You’d better get going yourself,” Lucius sighed. “With the teleporter, you should get to the Valley in time to do some intensive research. Remember the names I gave you as to who to talk to for more information?”

“Brothers Harrapias and Hidalas, yes,” Valaron repeated the names verbatim. “Both can be found in Kulloden. And also to send a disguised escort to Uncle Shaun’s tavern to tell him to keep things quiet when we come in?” The last advice on the tavern hadn’t stayed in the boy’s head well, something easy to forgive considering the flurries of advice that had been showered on him in the past day.

“No. Don’t stay there at all... too obvious,” the Emperor corrected.

“Ah... a smaller tavern then?” Valaron offered.

“Yes... smaller, out of the way. But still send a guardsman to Raven’s father to tell him she’s in town, and keep quiet about it. The last thing you need one of your ‘Uncle’s’ employees running around saying Lady Raven has returned,” the Emperor sighed. He trusted Shaun, he didn’t trust the help hired by his friend.

Lucius could see his son trying to put this inside a mind already filled with short term information ranging from orders (stop them from ransacking the tomb, find the Fire Stone, make sure Ari is safe), to combat advice from his mother, to demands from Vintressa that he lighten up on Raven.

“And lastly, don’t worry. Tess is coming with you, okay? Trust her advice,” the Emperor added with a slight smile.

I wouldn’t trust my son with just anyone...



Far within the walls of the palace complex, inside the Princess’ normal chambers Vintressa watched Raven don the last of her traveling clothes... a dull green cloak that would blend in rather nicely with any woodland.

“Almost ready?” Vintressa glanced at her friend.

“Yup,” Raven rearranged her dull green cloak, until it was set just right. She turned to face Vin, and then the cloak flew open, her hand resting on her nagaika. Satisfied with the results of her test, she slid the woolen shround back over her form, covering her traveling clothes, spellbook, and weapons.

“I would dread to stand against you,” Vintressa smiled, giving her friend a hug. “Be careful, now.”

“You too.” Raven replied simply. “After all, you’re the one that’s going to be in charge if or when your father leaves.”

“It won’t be that bad,” Vintressa smiled bravely. “The Council is still here. And if mom and dad have their way, the excitement and chaos will stay a long way from here,” she smiled.

Part of her dreaded this moment. True, Vintressa was sixteen, in two years she would be of age, officially an heir and legal regent when her parents and brother were gone. True, she had a mind for politics. Nonetheless, if her father needed to march out with a second army, she would be solely in charge.

Xanadu, the Chamberlain and trusted family friend, would be at the front. Diogenes would be gone. The rest of the Council knew her... but she did not know them well. It was a far leap from where she had been less than two weeks before... sitting in a classroom learning why newts were keys to magical spells, or why salamanders could be used to enhance the potency of magic.

She would have to coordinate what was left of the investigation as to who was involved... something that should be simple enough, now that it seemed the conspirators were in a panicky flight to Thuyciden to marshal their armies. Controlling the egos on the Council would be harder than that... and hardest of all would be the task her mentor left behind for her...

”Something is going on with Evermyn... and her fellow paladins.” Vintressa remembered her mentor and role-model saying. ”I know half-elves have a reputation for being flighty at times, but this is beyond ordinary... for a paladin of Hieroneous to suddenly stop sending back information?

She isn’t dead... at least she wasn’t a few days ago. Other agents saw her on the far end of the city, in a poorer section... they said she broke into an antique dealers’. I want to know why... what’s going on. Did she find something that she didn’t get a chance to tell us? Is she still out there, NOT telling us something for a reason?”

A vicious sensation of falling, twisting and turning rushed through the five humans clustered together. Three, Tesseron Keldare and two of the finest members of the Imperial Household Guard, handpicked for the operation, were used to the rigors of teleportation, and had traveled inside its swirling mists before.

Raven and Valaron were not used to such travel. Teleportation often required years and many transits to fully adjust to. Valaron and Raven simply hadn’t had the time and transits pass.

The prince held up the best of the two. While nausea overwhelmed his senses and he felt like he would tumble over and vomit, he managed to stay upright, if swaying slightly. Raven was not nearly as lucky, and would need some clean shoes once the mists cleared into the single “public teleport” in Kulloden.

Teleportation was a luxury that few outside of the nobility and rich merchants could afford. As such, the vast majority of the time, people without the ability to teleport themselves used the local Mage’s Guild, or a local mage if possible. Very few “public teleports,” ones that were not affiliated with the Mage’s Guild and open to anyone willing to pay the proper (and usually extremely high) fee, existed within the Empire.

All were owned by rather wealthy merchants, eager to milk the need to rapid and (comparatively) safe travel by those with money and power. They usually kept only a few minor mages (usually apprentices or those who had a falling out with the local guild) to monitor the process. Should something actually go wrong, chances are the Mage’s Guild would be called in to fix the problem... which tended to happen frequently with these operations.

A rich merchant named Bladonicus owned the Kulloden “public teleporter.” Few knew of its existence. The Mage’s Guild did, of course, as did the Baron and several of the richer merchants who used it to leave the city quietly... such as when leaving to conduct a surprise inspection of an investment. Tesseron had rarely used teleporters (her personal connection to the planes of magic was powerful enough that she could teleport herself at will), while Raven and Valaron had previously always traveled the ‘official’ recieving area for the city, at the Mage’s Guild. The chances of someone recognizing them would be far less coming here than arriving at the Guild Raven’s mother headed.

As the swirling mists cleared, Raven fell forward, coughing and hacking, her world spinning. Several ruddily dressed (very common robes compared to the ornate robes of mages seen in Iskeldrun) mages stood around, small smirks on their faces at seeing what they assumed was a first time traveler.

“Ferdinas, see to your sister,” Tesseron said, stepping forward. Before leaving, the two had listened to her hum a few quite notes, and watched as her blonde hair had shifted to jet black, and her eyes shifted to a deep brown, her ears shifting towards a slight point... a half elf. Her clothing was a cut above ordinary, but merely functional... as were theirs. Under the robes of Valaron and the guards, the glint of chain hauberks were hidden.

Valaron bent down as his ‘mother’ instructed.

“You alright?” he asked Raven, whose eyes continued to nearly bulge out of her face, her face still slightly green from nausea.

“Um,” she nodded slowly, unsteadily rising to her feet with Valaron’s help.

“Good sirs, I believe we have been expected?” Tesseron’s voice, now a slightly high alto thanks to her disguise. “Our payment will be,” she reached into her pocket, pulling out a purse that jingled, “prompt.”

One of the mages smiled, and took the pouch of platinum from her. “Thank you, Lady Baracla,” he gave a slight bow. “We hope your business in the city goes to your satisfaction.”

“I do as well,” Tess responded, before motioning everyone to follow her out.

Outside, in the city streets, the two guardsmen, clad nondescriptly, fell into a flanking position to the three central members. Under this subtle cover, the five swept northward, into the heart of the city.

They passed the so called ‘Holy Row,’ the central plaza of the city upon which sat the large colonnaded temples to Tarantor, Hieroneous, Pelor, Kord, and Chaskoval (the god of fertility and crops). The first three were decorated as many of their kin were across the land; cold marble warriors stood watch in the courts of Hieroneous, emblems of nobility and the Imperial right to rule adorned the white walls of Tarantor, and giltwork brilliantly reflected the noonday sun in Pelor’s house.

The Temple to Kord in Kulloden was not as architecturally ornate as the others, friezes of chains and massively built men and women decorating its front. The Temple to Chaskoval was, to the untrained eye, little more than a small acreage of various crops, a small, well built building in the midst of the tiny fields.

The five swept on, through the richer quarters of the city, until they stood outside a well apportioned inn, the image of a knight slaying a boar adorning a sign outside its front door.

“Here we rest, and plan,” Tess said.



Hemmel scratched the back of his leg, annoyed as an itch that had been bothering him for the past few days flared again. As he moved, a jingle in his pocket brought some relief to his torment.

He looked around the market crowd this day... farmers bringing produce from the field, shepherds dragging in lambs and ewes for shearing or slaughter, artisans plying their wares. It was everyday bustle for a small city like Kulloden, and to the untrained eye, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

To Hemmel’s trained eyes, numerous, perhaps tens of subplots had caught his eye. The small boy eyeing the candy at a store across the street, his grubby face and hands along with his hungry look indicating a willingness and past of thievery; the well dressed man with his wife at his side, eyeing young boys as they went by; the quiet man in the corner, making a deadly stare towards a handsome, loud man across the street.

But Hemmel’s eyes were searching for something specific. Namely a single man.

Hemmel’s life had included its ups and downs, and he was familiar with the necessities of street life... such as discovering and using trusted fencers. After all, a scrubby peasant bringing in a small fortune worth of fine rings and jewels would raise more than a few eyebrows. Fencers were reliable at least in that they would be less likely to report his suspicious activity... they could just as easily be caught. And Hemmel had a good diea of what was fair for his items, and those who cheated him rarely had a chance to enjoy their ill-gotten gains.

The assassin felt a gentle tap on his shoulder, and without turning, he backed slowly and naturally into an alleyway. Once he was sure the normal market traffic was not paying him any attention, he turned to his temporary associate.

“’Ere you are, guv,” the young lad stated, slipping the long, sharp jitte back into Hemmel’s hand. The assassin kept his face stone cold, despite the smile that wanted to play across his lips as he felt magic slipping and sliding between his fingers as he grasped his weapon. “’Zactly as you asked!”

“Good work lad,” Hemmel nodded, before reaching into his pocket for the last ring he had... his last connection with his old, palatial life. “Here, for your work.”

The boy’s eyes lit up with glee as he saw the valuable, its gilt falcon head and glowing diamond eyes bright in the intermittent sun. To the young man, it was merely a ring of great beauty. To Hemmel it was a ring signifying his position as a personal manservant to the most powerful family on the face of the world. Hemmel at first held the bauble out, before suddenly clasping his hand around it again, his eyes flashing upward, looking about in alarm.

“Boy! Follow me!” he hissed, grasping the young man’s arm and pulling him after as he zipped through the alleyways. A small squeal of protest started from the boy’s lips, but died quickly, his mind clearly realizing that his customer had seen danger, and was trying to protect his fence.

After several twists and turns, Hemmel and the boy ducked under a grate, the fetid smell of sewage assaulting their noses. Hemmel continued to look about nervously, and the small boy strained to see what his customer was seeing.

After a few moments, Hemmel gave an audible sigh of relief.

“That was close. City watch,” he clarified. “They have moved on.”

The boy’s eyes grew wide at the statement, and a look of profound thanks fell upon his face. He’d clearly been on the bad side of the watch before... and the scar on the right side of his face showed it likely wasn’t a pleasant experience. Hemmel handed him the ring.

“It should be safe,” Hemmel motioned to the boy to climb back up.

Quite eagerly, the young man leapt upwards, his mind already focused on how he would fence this new ring, and spend the money from those earnings. He never saw Hemmel draw his jitte, or throw the weapon in the direction opposite, only to flash in a half-circle.

His last moment was a blast of immense, horrific pain in the back of his head, before all went black.



Hemmel pulled the jitte from the mess that was once the young man’s head. Taking the dead man’s robes, he wiped his weapon down, cleaning all organs and blood from its steel length. It was his only remaining jitte, he could not have it start rusting early.

So it does work, Hemmel grunted in satisfaction. It had taken the pawnings of five rings, perhaps worth five thousand platinum all together, to get this little addition to his favorite weapon. Never again would he have a weapon be blocked at the last moment by another blade.

The assassin looked down at his latest victim, a small measure of pity in his eyes. I needed a test subject, Hemmel reasoned, putting his own psyche at ease. And it was not as if this urchin was going to do much better. Thievery was in his future, and perhaps an assassin’s life. Nothing the world would miss.

His eyes then drifted to the beautiful ring still in the young man’s hand. For a second, he wanted to reach down ad pick it back up, till his training, plotting mind began to evaluate things.

No... no, he thought. They are in the city already. Let them know I am here. Let them worry that I am not alone. Let them see me in every shadow, every passing glance, every lost soul that brushes past their skin.

A panicked foe is easy to predict.