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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Iron Sky" data-source="post: 5225850" data-attributes="member: 60965">Session 31, Part 3 Harold set his empty plate and mug down on the bed stand and stretched out, looking through the glass of his tower window at the snow falling outside.  It felt good to lay on a bed after too many days in sewers, streets, and cells, even though doing so made him feel restless and guilty.  While I'm lying here, people are dying in the Crystal Towers, hundreds, thousands of them.  The longer I take, the less of the Crystal Towers there will be when I return! His mind ran deeper and deeper down its familiar spiral, but he somehow drifted off.  He awoke to the sound of his door opening, reaching for weapons that weren't there.  A man in Fae Hunter blacks walked in, by his bearing a warrior though he carried only a single slender blade at his side.  “The Huntmaster would see you now,” the man said. “For what purpose?” Harold said, rising to his feet and straightening the simple, comfortable clothing they'd given to him. “For whatever purpose he likes, this is his tower after all.”  The Hunter turned and began to walk away, not even bothering to see if Harold was following him. Harold did follow and after fifteen minutes and dozens of flights of stairs, they arrived at a large metal-bound door with two scarred, dangerous-looking Hunters in full battle regalia sizing Harold up.  The Hunter that had escorted him nodded to them and left without a word. “He's waiting for you,” one of the Hunters said, pulling the door open.  Harold straightened again and walked in. Inside was a large study, the ceilings tall as if built specifically to accommodate the massive black bookcases that covered most of the walls.  A simple bed sat next to a large stone fireplace and another door stood open to a large stone balcony.  A slender figure wrapped in a thick, black-furred robe traced in silver ermine sat in a stout leather-backed chair by the balcony, a large tome on one knee.  The figure looked up into the storm as Harold approached, revealing fine-boned elven features and long silver hair. Harold stopped a respectful distance from the elf and stared out into the storm as well.  He didn't acknowledge the cold as they waited there, though the waiting itself quickly began to wear on his patience.  He was about to say something when the Huntmaster spoke. “The people of the Black City seem to be mistaking you for a Fae Bent quite frequently, Harold Trisden of the Crystal Towers.” “How do you know who I am?  Do you have word from the Crystal Towers?” “All I know is that my Hunters won't waste any more time chasing you around the City instead of chasing down the Fae Bent.” “How do you know I'm not a Fae Bent?” Harold said, taking a step closer as the anger that lived close under the surface rose. The Huntmaster made a dismissive gesture.  “My Hunters tested you when you first arrived in Charst and watched you when you were led to the prisons.  I trust my people implicitly.  You just escaped yesterday anyway, if you had somehow become a Fae Bent in the mean-time, it wouldn't show in your blood for several days yet, so it doesn't matter.” “Is this how your people treat diplomats from other nations?” Harold said, purposefully changing the subject as his temper cooled.  “I was assaulted, humiliated, imprisoned, and my belongings taken within hours of my arrival!” The elf waved his hand and glanced back at his book.  It was beginning to bother Harold that the elf hadn't once looked at Harold, as if he was barely worth the Huntmaster's time.  “I care not what the Houses do. The Fae Hunters have never gotten involved in city politics for our aim is higher – the preservation of the Black City as a whole.  A single Fae Bent creature can cause the destruction of hundreds, whole families slaughtered, homes destroyed, panic, mayhem... “We captured and executed several inmates from the prison you escaped from heading out through a small sealed door to the Fae Wood not far from the prison.  Already hundreds of people have died from the Fae-twisted creatures that slipped in before we could seal the gate and dozens of our best Fae Hunters are out tracking the Fae monstrosities as we speak. “The complaints of one foreigner do not weigh heavily upon me.  It is only for purposes of curiosity that I haven't had you killed yet.  So tell me, how fares the outside world?”  He finally turned and looked at Harold, his eyes a cold silver, glinting in the firelight. “The Crystal Towers was under siege by the Ashen Tower and sabotaged from within by a necromantic plague, the Span Wall has fallen and the Crystal Towers now fights for its very survival.  This is why I came, seeking allies-” “What about the rest of the world?  I get so little information and at times I find it valuable to know what else goes on.” “The rest of the world?” Harold said, staring into the Huntmaster's cold eyes.  “If the Crystal Towers falls, there will be nothing of value left in the world.  It is the great hope, if only the Ashen Towers could be broken, others would see that the Crystal Towers it the only-” The Huntmaster waved Harold to silence and it was all he could do to not attack the elf. He bit his tongue, his fists clenched. “I see now,” the Huntmaster said, turning back to his book.  “That is all.  Know that if you enter the Black City again, my Hunters will kill you without a second thought.” If I had my weapons, you would eat those words, Harold said, fists clenched.  The door swung open and the female Hunter that had brought Harold here was waiting for him.  He fumed, planing his revenge on the Huntmaster, on the Houses, on the Black City itself.    They launched from tower that rose hundreds of feet out of the heart of the Fae Wood and flew south.  An hour later he stood on the beach, the Radianus Sink to his back, the Fae Wood to his front, and the glinting line of the Hallowed One's prayer strips stretching out on either side of him.  He stood for a moment, deciding, then turned east, stepping rapidly along the shore towards Gleam.</blockquote>

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