The thunder of marching feet filled the air, as a great wave of yellow cloaked men ascended the mountain. Not one man looked back toward the ship that was anchored nearly a league below them already, unable to fly any higher. At the head of the formation was a tall and proud man, carrying a helmet under his arm that was crested with yellow dyed horse hair. At his side was a pair of swords that shared a scabbard. A famous pair of swords, whose prophecies had won him smaller victories already, and bolstered both his confidence and the trust that Emperor Caelus had in him.

In their reflections, he had seen many things. He had seen the Rhee's camp, which lay in a drunken stupor over the loot and plunder that had been carried up the mountain from a sacked city. He saw himself, and his battalion, only the first wave of men to take to the mountain, slaying the barbarians before they could mount a defense. But he had made a mistake by telling these things to his men. For one of them was not truly his.

The first indication that something was wrong was a stirring around them, and by then it was already too late. Men and women bearing swords, axes and spears, rose from the loose earth at either side of them, and struck. The outer side of the formation fell before the men on the inside were aware that they were under attack. Yllicus threw his helmet on, pulling his swords out to defend himself. He looked into their reflections as he fought. He saw each attack seconds before it came, and parried and dodged without fail. But he was already cut off from his men, as the ambushers surrounded him. There were piles of dead already, but the soldiers behind him had raised their shields in a much practiced phalanx to keep the attackers at bay. The attack was compromised, he knew it now. The left hand blade of Seer told him what happened. He saw which one had betrayed his trust, and he saw who to, and why. Yllicus gave an order he hadn't spoken in five years. "Retreat! Back down the mountain," he called to his men over the din, "Regroup at the ship!"

The phalanx started moving down the mountain, harassed on all sides by the barbarians, but Yllicus couldn't move. Every inch of ground he moved back was taken instantly away from him. He was locked in combat with a vast hoard, only surviving because every move he made was guided by prophecy. Before long, he couldn't even see his men in the distance, and his limbs grew tired from the never ending melee. Countless lay dead at his feet, and he knew he would collapse soon, but was determined to kill as many as possible.

"Stop!" a voice called out from above. It was a woman's voice, strong and confident. The second she spoke, the hoard around Yllicus froze, as if they were statues. Could the gods have come to his rescue? he wondered. Was this the very voice of Lithis? No, he saw. Up the mointain, there was a woman of black hair and austere beauty. She was draped in furs to fight off the cold, and Yllicus could see a sword at her hip. He fell to the ground, looking up, wondering if this was a rescuer or another fiend.
As she drew the wicked, curved blade, he knew which.

~~~~

The base camp was abuzz and lively. The airshipmen of the Mountaintaker were reloading ballast to account for the lighter weight that the ship would have, while the wounded soldiers were being attended to by physicians. Those who had stayed behind, and those still strong enough to fight, were forming a perimeter to keep the barbarians away. They had come in high spirits, but they were taking no chances now. They were leaderless, the ranking officers were in a tent somewhere, determining their next move. Should they press on with the campaign? A smaller ship had been dispatched to inform the Emperor, but they couldn't wait for word back to make a decision.

But then, all at once, the men at the perimeter gave cries, some of alarm, some of freight, and a few of joy. The Mountaintaker's captain, Vern, rushed forward to see what the commotion was. He was met with a crowd of almost every single soldier and sailor, gathered around to see something. They parted, and let through a battered, exhausted Yllicus. His helmet was missing, his cloak was torn and his armor battered, and he had a rag tied tightly around his right thigh. But he was alive, and he still held Seer in its scabbard.

The only words he spoke were to the Captain, "Pack up, we leave now," before he disappeared into his personal cabin.

~~~

The Witchblade's magic interfered with his very thoughts. Every action he thought to make was instantaneously checked against the Witch's orders. Yllicus paced the room, frantic now. Every possible plan was disallowed by the Witch's cunning words. She had thought of everything... Or had she?
He still had Seer. Not only had she allowed him to keep it, but she had given no orders regarding it whatsoever. It wasn't possible that she didn't know about it. Her spy had told her everything. Could it be a lapse in her judgment? Or perhaps she didn't care for it. Maybe she saw its weaknesses more clearly than he had.
How could he use this to his advantage? No matter what Seer let him see, his actions were limited by the curse.
He took the sword from its scabbard, and gazed into the future. At the current course, he saw his own success in the task that the Witch had given him. He could tell no one, to weaken the prophecy. He needed to change events, something needed to happen or all was lost. But the only avenue that was free, was his use of Seer.

Or, the thought struck him, his disuse of Seer. He looked into the blade yet again, closer this time. Very close indeed. He saw Mountaintaker soaring through the air. The airshipmen were hard at work, concentrating on their own tasks. But outside, a smaller ship flew. He saw it, and he watched a possibility unfold. It wasn't much of an option, but it was a change to the game.

Yllicus did three things, then. He sheathed Seer. Walked out onto the deck. And then dropped the sword off the edge.

~~~

The market of Lan was livelier than usual today, high off the the powerful stimulant known as gossip. A ship had come in the middle of the night, bearing news from the much anticipated campaign in the mountains. According to most of the airshipmen, who would know such things, the Mountaintaker should have reached Hurmding sometime the previous morning. It may be a great distance on foot, but the ships were swift and could make the trip in short enough order. The rumor mill was working hard now, theories being bandied left and right about what the message might have entailed.
They wouldn't have to wait long for more excitement, however. A few hours after noon, someone spotted the ship coming in from the North. After much ado and excitement, it was confirmed to be the Mountaintaker, already on it's way back to the capitol. Business in the markets was poor after that, as everyone rushed to the shipyards to see it come in. They wanted to get glimpses of the soldiers, or else to maybe overhear some juicy news.
The ship came in on a friendly wind, and was quickly moored. The ropes were strained immediately as the ship started unloading its human cargo, and the unencumbered hull pulled against the moorings. The airshipmen were going about chores, adjusting ballast, restocking and unloading. The soldiers, meanwhile, filed out of the ship in mass, looking unusually grim. The gathered crowds backed away to let them through, those close enough to speak to the soldiers asking questions that went unanswered.

After the soldiers, came the officers. The rabble knew better than to try to press these men for information. Captain Vern walked with Admiral Yllicus and a few hangers on. They had business at the palace.

~~~

The men hung around in the Atrium, Yllicus was looking more like himself, though with a pronounced limp. He had a plain short sword in place of Seer on his hip. He hadn't said much, even to Captain Vern, who looked worried as the Admiral paced back and forth, apparently quite agitated.

“You're quite sure, Yll?”
“Yes,” he kept pacing.
“You've a feverish way about you, I don't like it. His Blessed Highness would understand if you wanted to rest and recover before briefing him.”
“But it can't wait.”
“What can't wait?” Vern was letting his own irritation show now. Yllicus had been very tight lipped. Whatever he had seen up on the mountain, he felt that he could repeat it to no one short of the Emperor himself. Likely, though, Emperor Caelus would convene a strategy meeting afterward, which Vern and his entourage would be a part of. Anything this important would find its way to the Mountaintaker's captain soon enough.

Yllicus waved a hand for silence as the doors on the end of the hall opened. A guard in shining silver armor stepped out and beckoned, “His Blessed Highness asks for an audience with Admiral Yllicus, and no one else.” Yllicus nodded at Vern, and walked past the Imperial Guard and into yet another grand hallway. The guard took no objection to Yllicus' taciturn attitude, and the two walked in utter silence until the guard opened a door on the side. The guard was about to step in first, but Yllicus brushed past him and took hold of the door.
“No one else,” he repeated the man's words back at him, and closed the door in his face.

Emperor Caelus beamed at his old friend when he walked in, and jumped up from the cushions he had been lounging on. “Yll! But Lanus has guided you back to me! I heard you were injured, is it terrible?” He rushed forward to embrace Yllicus.

“No,” Yllicus said into the silence as the Emperor's face turned blank and lost all color. He pulled the blade out of Caelus' ribcage and dropped it with a clatter to the floor. “It is the least of my griefs. I am so sorry Cae...” tears streamed down his face as his emperor and friend fell to the floor.

Naira was alone on the mountain. The cold mountain wind was invigorating, raising the hair on her arms, ruffling her pale hair, it bit her cheeks and rouged them pink. She flexed her arms, moving her hands from one rock to the next. She straddled across a steep cliff face, her goats dappled the side of the mountain, some far above her, some below, some already crossed. They were following the sun's arch through the sky and the season, looking for fresh green weeds to graze upon.

When her feet found purchases on a ledge of flat solid rock, one of the goats awaited her. It was as tall as she, she ran her fingers through the fur of it's neck, then stepped astride it and mounted. Riding the oversize goat, they followed the ledge, which eventually rolled out into a steep but wooded portion of the mountain

She was wrapped in furs and leathers, crowned with thick golden hair, straw-like, it fell about her shoulders, wound and braided, dappled with beads and bones she had found interesting enough to decorate herself with. Her face was streaked with dark mud under her cheeks, it helped deflect the glare of the sun, the mud framed large dark eyes that scanned the trees. She took the reed pipe tied around her neck and placed it in her lips, and her other hand hovered over her spear, ready. The wood was not the safest place for her heard, full of fresh plants, but also predators. They would only have to endure it for a few miles, then the terrain would become rocky again, and the rugged hooves of the goats would find their advantage again.

The Bloated Weasel groaned in the wind as she steadily cruised on a breeze. It was a quiet morning and the early rays of sunlight were just beginning to climb the sky. The captain of the ship stared at the battered and closed doors of the shrine. It was built into the ship, fused almost to its curved walls and sat in the center of the main wall of the all-purpose room. A room where a crew or a family would have been sitting, eating, chatting, laughing… but a single man sat in a chair amongst many rows of potted tobacco plants. The windows on the side of the ship gave little light to the room. Above his head were drying plants, ready to be sold or processed into cigars. The room stunk with musk and the air was stale. The smoke of a burning cigar suffocated the room.

The captain crunched on the end of a cigar and pulled a long draw. He continued his long stare at the old shrine doors. The knobs were lashed with chains and locks sprung from the metal bundle here and there. He considered once burning the thing…until he quickly realized he’d have to set the entire ship on fire in order to do so.

A tiny thrum broke the captain from his thoughts and a brightly colored creature not much bigger than a shoulder bird suddenly appeared on top of the shrine. It crooned again, shuffled its leathery wings and blinked at the captain with its round golden eyes. The captain glanced from the reptile to the windows. Sunlight crept through the clouds and shined in the room, telling him how much time had passed since he disappeared in the belly of the Bloated Weasel.

The captain sighed then pushed himself up. He swished on a long coat and stomped up the stairs to the deck of his ship with the winged reptile close on his heels.
Far in the distance was the great capital.

-

The swollen belly of the Bloated Weasel slowly maneuvered above the large bazaar of Lan. It didn’t take the captain long to find space for his airship to dock. It was his usual spot where merchants had shady connections and were slick with their tongues.

With the sails down and the boat rigged in place, the captain would have gone about his usual business... if something had not caught his eyes. It was silver. It was long. It was sleek, beautiful…it was something he did not remember collecting. The captain strode to the hilt sticking out in a pile of tarnished rubbish and gave a stiff pull. Out from the tangled garbage the sheathed hilts of a dual sword glinted in the sunlight. Its elegant form he would have remembered if it ever crossed his path… The captain furrowed his brows. He did not remember this delicate work. He inspected the sword… what was someone’s lost was his gain, he thought with a shrug. He wondered how much he could get for it…

But first he had to deal with real business, not potential business. The captain placed the sword in the safest place he knew – on his body, tied to his belt next to his coin purse, and set off to prepare his tobacco for the market's cutthroat traders.

Darious scratched at the stubble under his chin and readjusted the straps of his pack. How long had it taken him to acquire the items on his latest client's list who was marching with the regiment detachment in the mountains? The exotic herbs and spices, some of the rarest mountain roots of the region, and all that mixed with the right fluids then crystallized made for one of the most potent stimulants he could think of.

He gathered that at least a week had been gone since he set off and the contact had requested he deliver the goods as well. 'Oh the things I will do for money' he chastised himself as he wandered the outskirts of Lan's bustling market. These gathering expeditions were not among his most favorite contracts to take, but the business of narcotics was one of the most profitable, and despite the displeasure of his journey, he had managed to get a few exotic animal pelts that would fetch a fair price as well.

It was good to be back with civilization. A week of camping along the rocky cliff sides had left him desirous of a hot bath, a soft bed and a good meal! Yes civilization was good for the most part but already he had thwarted two attempts of robbery leaving the would be robbers in moaning crumpled heaps ...amateurs... and turned away numerous harlots and their discounted offers.

It was not as if the mercenary dressed like some prissy noble or anything, but yet, he always seemed to attract would be thieves and countless whores like moths to a flame. In actual fact despite his traveling pack and the modest coin purse tucked away under his tunic, the only other thing he considered valuable on his person was the golden pendant fashioned in the likeness of a hooded female nomad around his neck which he so frequently tugged at absently. It seemed he held more value over it than perhaps it was actually worth.

The pendant was perhaps one of the only things he had left of his deceased family. Well that, and his sword of course. Both had been family heirlooms and he treasured them more than his own life. To lift even one, let alone both items a thief would have to get past two very skilled hands and the well conditioned body and reflexes of an accomplished mercenary. It would be quite the feat for an average street punk thief.

He paused as enticing smells of smoked meats and steamed vegetables filled his nostrils and after stopping at a food stall to purchase a skewer of smoked meats, was soon on his way again. It was nothing special, just a snack that would hold him until he managed to check himself into a decent inn. Oh how he longed for a hot bath and a well prepared meal, but for now, the mercenary of the wind had other business to attend to. He would have to secure transport up into the mountains where he would then have to track down the battalions that were stationed there so he could deliver the goods and receive the other half of his payment to be done with this horrid task once and for all.

At the heart of Lan's market, is where he found himself and after a few more stops to browse and barter he found his way over to a vender who had just finished setting up and appeared to be selling fresh tobacco and everything in between. The man had the look of an airship captain and sure enough, as Darious craned his neck upwards his eyes settled on the man's vessel so intriguingly titled "The Bloated Weasel". In a sense, airship captains were not that much different than mercenaries, and the majority of the ones he had come across were more than willing to charter their vessels out... for the right price of course. All crooked, the lot of them, mercenaries and captains alike, but business was business.

With a respectful nod Darious’ eyes scanned the man tending the stall “Good afternoon sir!” The travel worn mercenary offered before glancing over the items on display. Although his face was stubbly and smudged with dirt Darious offered his best smile to the vender then held a tobacco pouch up to his nose and in haled the sweet aroma deeply. “I’ll take this pouch here and some rolling papers if you've got them!”
Deep blue eyes flicked to the sword nestled about the man’s waist and he continued, sweeping his hand upwards towards the airship “I’m also curious to know if you’re the captain of this fine ship? I find myself in need of transport up into the mountains.” He moved his hand towards the jagged looming mountainside in the distance where the last rendezvous point with his contact had been discussed.

The captain looked up from his meddling of twine and dried stalks of tobacco. He stared, long and hard at the other man. His cheeriness somehow agitated the captain and a deep frown pulled at his face. His winged creature crooned from its spot on his shoulder and blinked brightly at the other man, carefully watching the stranger smell the pouch of tobacco. The captain pulled the last dying bit of the cigar from his mouth.

“Afternoon.” He finally spoke. His voice was gruff - possibly from the drying smoke he’d been inhaling for some long years or he woke up on the wrong side of the bed or he simply didn’t like this person. It was hard to tell which - maybe it was all three. He dug the last bit of his cigar into a small chipped plate where older butts laid in a sandy grave. His smoky blue eyes never left the mercenary. They considered him slowly, carefully and thoroughly while the captain mulled over the requests. The captain wasn’t as young as he looked. He was far older with an experience of certain clientele. Even though it wouldn’t be much of a trip by the words the man gave him. It sounded dull and boring like a drop shipment. But something about the man told him it be far more interesting than what met his ears and eyes.

“Aye.” The captain suddenly stated and he pulled at his long coat and appeared to reach for the hilt of the sword at his hip. Instead his hand dug into an inside pocket and he pulled out a delicate wrapping tied with a single string. He didn’t make skins for usual sale like the tobacco was but they were available when asked for. The string was pulled off and the wrapping was folded back to reveal several smaller rolls of a darker brown. These too were wrapped in a string individually.

“One’s good for three. Take your pick.” He placed the wrapping on the table for the other man’s leisure to choose. “Ten bits for the pouch and skins… A piece of sky stone for the ride. I don’t give out meals. You’ll have to fend for yourself or get your own supplies for the trip. I reckon it’ll take a day minimum. Two or three days at the greatest if the weather turns sour.”

The reptilian creature seemed far more welcoming and accommodating to Darious than the captain as he watched it from its perch a top the man's shoulder before sliding a piece of meat from the last of his skewer and carefully offering it to the captain's companion hoping he wouldn't lose a finger in the process.

As the captain appeared to reach for his sword the mercenary didn't flinch or reach for his own blade, instead, calmly considered the way the seasoned captain moved as his hand reached into his coat pocket and presented the rolling papers.

And so began the bartering process, It was expected really, any half decent merchant should barter and Darious would have looked for another if he felt that the captain would be a push over. He nodded at the price for the Tobacco and rolling papers. Adding a few for bits on top of the initial price for all of the papers. "The bits I can do, but I'm afraid I've no sky stone here with me, Kind of difficult for me to lug that around in this region wouldn't you say? A lot of eyes lurking about." He offered a chuckle then continued "Nope, no skystone but, I can add two gold talents and some exotic pelts if you're interested... and one final gold talent if you get me there in a day?"

His eyes glistened as he dropped his pack to the ground and extracted the pelts for the captain of the Bloated Weasel to consider. Each pelt would fetch at least a gold talent at the tailors, but what was a modest mercenary to do? He had to get up to the mountains and the look of this captain implied that he wouldn't ask too many questions.

"Won't need to leave till tomorrow morning though, I've been on the road for a bit and I fancy a comfortable bed and a hot bath before I set out again. Darious scratched at his stubble as his eyes wandered the market. One could never be too careful around places like these, especially if people think there's a travelling pack full of goodies to be had.

"What say you Captain?" he offered a hand to him " Do I have myself a ship?"

The little creature warbled in excitement and wiggled on the captain’s shoulder. She leaned as far out as she could without leaving his shoulder and snapped at the juicy square of meat. It disappeared in seconds down a bright purple throat and the stranger still had all of his fingers. She nipped the air around her in all her happiness of having food (despite being fed earlier) and ran back and forth on shoulders and neck of her master. Several times she nipped at the captain’s ears and hair. When she finally got a hold of herself, the winged reptile settled back on her original spot, crooning softly as the captain listened to the stranger’s barter.

The captain chuckled along with Darious but for different reasons. “I think you would be surprised by what goes on in this region…” He commented vaguely and absentmindedly brushed some fingers across the vest he wore where his heart lay, scarred and yet still pumped miraculously. His hand dropped back to his side while he watched the man pull out some luscious pelts that shimmered when the sun hit their furs just right. Their patterns were indeed strange with spots, stripes and others, and yet were beautiful at the same time and would have stoked a hungry greed in another merchant, trader or captain to push for a bit more. But Darious was dealing with a man who travelled frequently as well and possibly more than himself... and a man who lost his appetite for profit. The captain had seen the live animals of those pelts before and he looked unimpressed as he considered them. He pondered of their use, their purpose they could serve other than another piece of gold, and his experience with storing pelts…

The captain was about to pull back and refuse the exotic pelts when he remembered taking some aboard years back… He’d forgotten about them for a long while and they ended up rotting on his ship. It took him weeks to get that stench out; he didn’t want to deal with that again. But the winged reptile decided to partake and sniffed at one pelt then laid down on another with a chirrup. She shuffled her wings about her, sneezed into the soft fur then set her head on her front claws and closed her eyes with a purr.

The deal was settled whether the captain liked it or not.

“Aye. You have a ship. By the looks of it, I’ll be taking that one. Keep the rest – I don’t want them.” The captain of The Bloated Weasel shook hands with Darious.

The mercenary of the wind shook the captain's hand firmly, satisfied with how the bartering had went. He nodded and rolled the unwanted pelts tightly and slid them into his sack. "Very well, I'm thinking I'll meet you back here a little after dawn tomorrow!" With that, he placed the rest of the money down on the make shift counter and turned to leave, waving over his shoulder as he adjusted his pack.

'Well that could have been worse' Darious thought to himself as he climbed the steps of his favored inn for this city "The Wheelhouse" It was a clean, respectable inn with a welcoming grand hall and bar situated on a hill overlooking the rolling planes that led to the jagged mountains he would find himself so buried in for he next few days. Well he hoped it would only be for a few days in any case.

It was in a quaint location, "The Wheelhouse" was, and Darious had often complimented the owners for their keen eyes. It overlooked the rolling plains and great mountains on one side, and the bustling central hub of the market on the other. While the great palace could be seen as well.
He greeted the inn keeper and the serving girls with a warm smile, as he always did and before he was even seated, Linda, one of the serving girls was picking her way through the tables with a mug of mead. "Ahh Linda!" he greeted with a smile as she set the mead in front of him " I've got something for your mother with me" With that he retrieved remaining pelts from his sack and handed it to the striking redhead and at once, her eyes danced over the pelts as she smiled. "Thanks Dar, She's not in right now, but I'll make sure she gets it OK honey? Will you be needing a room as well?"
'Honey?' Oh if she only knew! He smiled at that thought then replied "Yeah, but only for tonight, oh and a hot bath for this evening too please!" She nodded slyly, as if lingering on some taboo thoughts, and then jotted down his order for lunch before disappearing into the kitchen with the pelts.

As always, the meal was impeccable, and after another glass of mead, Darious gave Linda his order for the rations he would take with him into the mountains and once it was all paid for, he secured his pack in his room and was gone again into the market.

He had pointedly noted on his previous journey how bored he got of eating berries and mushrooms and the few small hares he had snared so he had decided to get himself a hunting bow and some arrows which would allow for hunting larger game that made for better eating. Now this mercenary was no marksman of course, but he had enough skill with a bow from his earlier years to hunt and so he set out in search of a local Fletcher and purchased a hunting bow and some arrows.

When Linda's mother found out what he had paid for something like that she scolded him the way only motherly folks do and explained that there were several bows he could have chosen from in her storage cellar and through her insistence, he returned the bow to the Fletcher 'You take that lousy thing back this instant young man' she had said. 'Waste of coin' she had blabbered and so, he was given one from the inn in exchange for the pelts he had given them. That bow was finer than any he had seen at the Fletcher so he gladly accepted it.

Darious looked over his supplies as the girls drew his bath for him, Everything was ready. Tomorrow he would be off again, but tonight, he would rest in full comfort. The bath was heavenly, the dinner even more so and the bed, oh the bed, He would sleep like a king that night.

Men women and children gathered around the woman. She came from down the mountain, but she spoke their language as she preached and prayed. She pointed across the mountain range, where a great ship had been sighted, landing to harass their sibling tribe. All day, the woman from down the mountain had prayed aloud to Lithis on the behalf of the Dan Hurmding, though her dark skin betrayed that she was not one of them. And now, late into the night, they could barely see as the dark shape of the ship lifted off of the ground and flew South.

"<Do you see how the sons of Lan flee? Mother of All cannot be oppressed for long. The Steel of Lanus is nothing to the Stone of Lithis, and the souls of her children. They will come, and you, the children of the goddess, will beat them back, time and again. But heed my warning, lest you forget where your strength comes from. Don't trust the invaders from Lan. Be wary even of the Witch. She has been a boon to you, I know. But her heart belongs to Osmados, and I know not her true allegiance, or His.>"

The Dan Hurmding made noises of derision at this. They had been with the priestess up until she spoke of the Witch. They feared her, true, but she had the trust of the Rhee, and no outside priestess could convince them that the Rhee's judgement was flawed. The congregation thinned out, some tried to linger, but were pushed away with the rest of the crowd. Children were dragged away as they tried to stay and question her. The priestess seemed less than perturbed about this, she merely crossed her arms and sat back down, cross legged, next to her meager pile of belongings. She would likely sleep nearby tonight, but in the mean time, she would pray, and the Dan would watch and listen.

~~~

The following night, leagues away in the city of Lan.

Captain Vern sat in a tavern, his face was blank, his mind a web of shock, disgust, and several other things he couldn't process right now. His pulse pounded and his mind buzzed uncomfortably. He had taken the last of his supply of the frozen nectar, the crystallized stimulant that was his weakness. It was much too large of a dose, but the events of that morning had driven him over the edge. A small, rational part of his mind was telling him he needed to flush the drugs from his system, so he could think clearly and process. Maybe he could find Yllicus and figure out what happened.

But that part of his mind was drowned by the rationalizations of his addiction. He was coming down now and needed more to keep functioning. If he didn't get more of the nectar, he would surely pass out, and who knew how long he would sleep after that. No, he needed to be awake to track down the assassin that had been his friend.

He waited in a corner of the tavern, his face obscured by a hooded cape, his body shaking and clammy. He had sent a page boy to bring a message to the collector he had hired, telling him when and where the rendezvous was changed to. He had no way of telling time, and his impatience was getting the better of him as he started drumming on the table.

As she walked and traded among the others she garnered a small measure of attention. A few young men were asking after her, they gathered in clumps of two or three, and whispered to one another. These young men would hear the story of her visit last year, around the time of the solstice. She had fended off three suitors, one for each day she had been present therein. Their gaze slid over her fair braids, her handsome curves and muscles, and the goat slung over her shoulder. They turned away wistfully before she caught them staring with her own glacier blue eyes framed by long blonde lashes.

It appeared that the year away had only made the girl stronger and taller than she had been. Some wondered how living alone with no one to spar against she had become good enough to fell three warriors in three days.

If they had asked her, she might say that her constant partner was the mountain, always the greater friend and foe.

She noticed the lowlander. A woman who was thin, small, dark of skin and hair. The opposite of the Dan in every way. Yet she spoke their language fluently, and spoke of the goddess proudly. This was enough to catch Nairas curiosity and attention.

First she spoke of the Dan and the Goddess, of victory and praise. Then when her words turned to the Witch, she began to loose her audience. It is not that the Dan were fearful, but rather they were wise. The Witch had proven her strength and protected the mountain. She had earned the respect of the Dan and their leader. Yet, many had their reservations about her magic. When the Witch had first appeared many protested against her magic. It was whispered that she easily defeated her opponents, and brought them back from the dead to be her slaves. This unsettled the Dan sensibility, yet, might was right. So the Dan at first tolerated the witch, and then began to ally themselves with her.

Naira herself had some reservations about the supposed magic of the Witch. She believed that some things should remain dead. She had midwifed for goats who had produced kids with backwards hooves and two heads. Naira did not allow these more than a few trembling breaths on this earth. It was a mercy to cull the weak, it was the way of nature and the Dan Hurmdig. Their short lives would only be suffering, it was a mercy.

A Dan was no goat, however, yet to be defeated and then brought back a slave would be the ultimate humiliation. She imagined that she would rather be dead. Naira though that this was only a rumor, and therefore did not worry over it very much.

The goat made a small noise as Naira moved to the forefront of the thinning crowd. She would not disturb the woman’s prayers, but would wait patiently with the others for a time to converse and ask questions.

Naira wondered if this was only preaching. The Dan were not inclined to preaching with their words, if they wanted to prove their point they did so with their swords and fists. The woman might be looking for an army to rise against the witch, preaching to see what kind of support she might get. Naira did not like the idea of an outsider seeking to use the Dan in their own battles in such a way.

Or this was prophecy. The Goddess was known to speak. Naira herself had spent much time alone on the mountain, but had not heard the Goddess herself.

“You are not from the mountain, yet you speak it’s language. Who do you speak for lowlander? The Goddess? Or the army you seek to build against the witch?”

Then knock came, and Darious could not help but wonder if, well if it were Linda for some reason. The longing glances she had offered him were words in their own fashion, and the woman practically thrummed with an interest she fought hard to suppress.

He wrapped himself in a robe and slid the door open and much to his dismay, it was the page boy. Damn it why couldn't Linda have come herself, or one of the sisters at least/ After a few moments the buzz of the tavern crept its way upstairs to the rooms and that was enough for the mercenary to gather at how busy the girls were. The page shifted nervously as Darious appraised the buzz of the people. "Sorry to disturb you sir, but there's a gentleman downstairs asking after you. He doesn't look quite right but requested an audience."

An audience? Darious was no nobleman or any such thing but he figured more or less the young page was being polite.
"OK, Let me get dressed and I'll be there shortly. In the mean time, send him a mug of ale."the boy nodded and with that, Darious tossed him a coin before slipping back inside his room. How could people know he was even staying there. He slung his sword to his waist and moved down to the man that was waiting for him.

His contact, looked for lack of a better word, Haggard and almost ill when he drew up beside the restless captain. "Ahh, It's you after all!" he exclaimed as he ran his gaze over the man. "You look like shit captain" the words came out before he even realized it and all the mercenary could do was offer an apologetic smile. He knew this kind of man, addicts, and most of them were the same, short tempered on their way down from their highs.
"I've got your order in my room" he offered after a brief silence "But something tells me you're here on other business as well." Darious gestured to the stairway leading to the rooms and quickly stood motioning the captain to follow him. Some things were better handled in privacy.

The two men sat opposite each other at a small table in Darious' room. He had laid out the items in front of the captain who more than quickly snatched each ingredient up, inspected them then set them in his own sack. Payment was received and after an awkward silence, Captain Vern informed Darious of the assassination. At first he was reluctant to agree to the new contract, but after some thought, he decided it would be worth the hassle. They would leave in mere hours and as soon as it was all settled, the Mercenary of the Wind slipped out into the night to inform the Bloated Weasel of the change in plans. They would have to renegotiate their agreement of course, but at least, Captain Vern was there to provide the additional coin.

With the nectar flowing in his veins, Captain Vern was a master tactician, and an airshipman beyond equal. Without, he had been dull enough to divulge details of a crime that wouldn't, and shouldn't be widely known for a day at least. Luckily, he reflected from his cabin aboard the Mountaintaker, The Mercenary of the Wind could be relied upon to keep his mouth shut. Unluckily, he could also be relied upon to get the job done. He might actually catch up to Yllicus. And he would surely realize that the Steward of the throne would pay a great deal more than a mere captain could. This could not be allowed.

Vern left his cabin, and barked a strange order at the first airshipman he saw. "Ready a Falcon, a weeks provisions and ballast for one man." The man saluted without question and hopped to his task. With luck, it would take Darius longer to find a ship than it would take Vern to prepare one of the many he had at his disposal.

"My people have known the goddess for all of our history. Look," she stood and lifted her thick cloak to show the markings on her belly, "See that I bear her mark? I have spoken to her myself, in my youth." She dropped her cloak back around her and looked again at the younger woman. She was a goatherder, apparently, and bore the signs of someone who spent a great deal of time alone in the wilderness. She was strong, too. Desirable by Dan standards, but able to keep suitors at bay. Gabriel guessed that this one could choose any man or woman she desired, and wondered if she had so chosen.

"Watch your pockets, young master." As the wizened warrior walked, she held one hand near the hilt of the sword she kept tucked into her sash. Her fingers brushed the pommel occasionally, as if she was anxious it might disappear. "I've known cutpurses in this city to take a man's belt without him noticing. There's an arm's race in this city. Between the citizens, the guards, and the criminals. They adapt to each other constantly, just like wildlife does, and just like the nations that make up the empire do. You must be wary, particularly when you rule your clan. Things have a way of escalating, and the only way back down is destruction. Illuim built skyships, and then so did Thara. They used them against Osmad, and they in turn adapted." They were walking through the Lan shipyards, having just arrived from an Illuim owned chartered ship. She gave a brief glance to the behemoth that took up the entirety of one of the docks. She pointed to it as she walked, but otherwise didn't seem too impressed, "Thara has the largest airship in the world, but only for now. Eventually, us, or Osmad will outdo it in size. And then Thara again. Until a war destroys all of our navies and we start from scratch." She stopped and looked at him, "That is a truth that I think is best understood here in Lan, Saizo. The empire tries to slow it, for as long as they are on top. When you rule, you would do well to watch the Tharans, they have owned the world for a very long time. Longer, I think, than any group ever has."

She brushed her sword again, and frowned. A man in a cloak, with an unusual sword on his hip walked by. She watched as he walked down the dock and met with a captain by his ship. Her frown persisted as she turned back on her path and kept walking. "It's late. What do you think?"

This was a habit of hers. Though she was his guide and his teacher, she let him make all decisions. She often tried to influence them, sometimes in remarkably subtle ways. It was her way of teaching him to lead, and to avoid those who might manipulate him.

Saizo followed his master in suit resting one arm on the hilts of his swords under his sash making sure neither of them disappeared into the crowd. He listened to his master explain the unknown wilderness around him as he watched the interactions going on around the docks. Although this place was strange and new Saizo seemed to drink it in trying to take anything that he could from the place, but at the same time he remained alert and ready in case things took a turn in the wrong direction. He listened to Meka's lecture about the skyships and he understood the main point of it. "They may have rule now, and may have ruled for quite some time, but times change and eventually power will be handed down as someone else rises up, am I correct?" He asked after she was finished if nothing else to prove that he had been listening and understood what she had been saying. Saizo noticed the man with the weird sword, but he didn't see to much of it. To him a sword was a sword, and who could he really judge for weird Swords as he held the Water Dragon at his side, "I do think it is getting late as well, maybe we should stop for the night and head out tomorrow. It can be quite hard to navigate an unknown area in the dark. And if there are pickpockets during the day, I don't want to meet what comes out at night here." Saizo replied after thinking for a moment when he was asked. He wanted to continue on, but he also knew better than that at the same time.

Naira was felt a wellspring of emotion in her belly, or several. Life on the mountain-side with the goats was uncomplicated, it was difficult, yes, but she could always be decisive, the right action was always obvious (Ascend, descend, climb, find food, eat, sleep, brush the fur, find the lost one, etc). It was not so simple when dealing with people, whom she spent much less time with.

Was it curiosity that drew her toward the woman? Naira had met few whom were not of Dan blood. The Dan had always respected the goddess, never harming a woman with child, and unlike what Naira had heard about the barbarian low-land countries Dan women were raised to be strong just as the men were. Yet, what people did this woman belong to, who supposedly were so close to Lithis?

Was it envy? Did she envy that such a thing came easy to this woman, that she had heard the voice of Lithis and knew her will.

Was it a call from Lithis herself? Did Lithis use her gentle strong hand to draw the Dan to her prophetess?

As a Dan, she knew that the Goddess did not reveal herself to everyone nor should she. She would speak with those who were worthy, those who were strong enough to endure her presence and carry her word. Every Dan child learned quickly that if you were not strong enough for your sword you could easily cut yourself upon it.

If this small barbarian woman was strong enough for the Goddess herself, a goat-herder would not be a problem.

“Your audience is thinning, it is not that the Dan do not have the strength to face the invaders and the witch. Should such a course be decided victory will be assured, for we the Dan live by strength. Yet, to turn away from the witch is not a small matter. She has proven herself to the mountain. If you want the faith of the Dan you must do so yourself. Starting with me."

She set her goat down, entrusting it to a capable looking youth whose blue eyes widened as he realized what was about to take place.

“My name is Naira Tupaarnaq Antiman. I would challenge you in a duel of honor. If the Goddess truly favors your word then she shall favor your sword.”

Now, the lowlanders were not accustomed to the ways of the Dan, and did not always understand or accept such challenges. It was considered dishonorable to take advantage of an ignorant enemy in such a way. But, this woman knew their tongue and claimed to know their ways. If she hesitated or faltered it would discredit her entirely. After all, if she knew the Dan she would know that It was only a matter of time before someone would challenge the prophetess.

If she accepted, a crowd would quickly gather, a much larger crowd than she had originally entertained with words alone. If she won ever Dan in this town would know every word that had already left her mouth, and listen to every word she would say thereafter. They would all consider the will of Lithis and her prophetess. If she lost this duel, then her speech would quickly be forgotten as blasphemous words should be.

The captain of the Bloated Weasel was surprised to see the mercenary so soon and so late. His business was done for the day, raking in a good hefty bag of coin he meant to spend on his ship or his little critter. Or even to get a decent and honest appraisal of the new sword he got that morning.

But alas, his curiosity for how far the double blades (which he found out tinkering with it after closing shop) would get him in gold, or silver, or maybe even skystone would have to be set aside for now. The end of his burning cigar glowed in the dusk as he inhaled and considered the new arrangement.

He didn’t care much for the change in destination; it didn’t affect his plans of any sort. He had a small enjoyment watching his customers shift as he took his time mulling over their requests.

“Alright.” He simply said after a long pause and the bright reptile crooned on his shoulder. “We can leave now.”

Fast forward to dawn, the Bloated Weasel was far from Lan – cruising on a current that propelled them with sails in full swelling bloom. The air was crisp and nipped at fingertips and noses. The winged reptile stayed close to Vidal, snuggling the back of his neck under the heavy collar of his long coat. The captain himself stood at the wheel, hands almost tenderly holding two of the many spokes. The wheel itself was of an older design than one would have seen on other and newer ships. In fact, the entire ship looked like it came from a different world and perhaps it had. It was older than Vidal and was passed through generations of generations of a family of Altair origins before it ever was touched by his hands.

The captain glanced down from his sails to the man who hired his services. He generally didn’t pry into another’s business. But a small spark of curiosity had him wondering what made the man change his mind to a farther destination. Was he aiding a wanted man? An eyebrow rose at the thought then a soft noise escaped him. It wouldn’t be the first time he got tangled in a mess like that. And it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

“Are you a bounty or are you looking for a bounty?” Vidal called out to the mercenary. Fortunately for him, the wind didn’t sweep his words away but rather carried it across the deck of his ship.

absently tugging at the hooded woman pendant about his neck, Darious couldn't help immersing himself in the early morning breeze. So full of secrets in the wake of night it was; hush hush words trapped a midst the rush of the wind as the Bloated Weasel moved towards their new destination. He still had much to learn of his sword, and the secrets lost to the winds were just blurs and murmurs, vague echoes of the reminiscent night winds but he knew, the more he studied and listened, the more they would reveal.

He breathed in the cool breeze as the captain's words found him "My sources tell me there was an assassination at the great palace of Lan Last night, mere hours before we left!" he began as he moved towards Vidal. "The contact is offering a handsome reward for the capture of the assassin, a former general of the empire's own army. But naturally, I'm sure the actual empire is offering a much more handsome reward so I intend to deliver the bounty directly to the empire." The mercenaries eyes narrowed in thought for a moment and he chuckled at the irony of it all. "An airship was seen travelling westward away from the palace shortly after the alarm within the palace walls had been raised. But unfortunately that's all the information I have right now."

Darious could only hope they would catch up to the ship. There were only a few places west that one would travel if they were attempting to disappear, and he had most of them marked on the old map parchment he carried with him. They would have to sop at a few villages dotting the area and he shuddered at the thought. All the maidens he had spent nights with, and the mobs of brothers and fathers that almost inadvertently always managed to find out.

He recalled the first part of Vidal's question just then, and chuckled "There are many that would wish me dead I'm sure, but no, I am no bounty... At least not of the Empire anyway!" He clasped the captain on his shoulder and nodded, before disappearing below to find some breakfast.

Vern stomped down the stairs to the storage space on the Mountaintaker which housed, among the assorting things any military ship had in stock, the Falcons. They were unusual airships, of a kind that weren't seen anywhere else, small and easily carried on the larger vessel. The storage was mostly abandoned, except for one man standing next to the prepped Falcon that Vern was meaning to commandeer. It was the most powerful man in the empire, as of six hours ago.

"My Lord Steward," Vern managed to keep his voice calm. The Nectar kept his mind working a step ahead, keeping him from making a fool of himself. But it seemed Steward Marcus was equally prepared.

"Dispense," he said simply, holding a hand up. "You're going after Yllicus. Just remember where your loyalties lie... and take this," he held out a package wrapped in oilcloth as he walked to the stairs. Vern took it and watched the Steward ascend. How did he know? Vern could make a few guesses. Spies, whether in the tavern, or here in the ship. Maybe he just guessed. As Vern stepped onto the Falcon, he unwrapped the cloth, and saw the shimmering handle of a sword...

Meka and Saizo

"Then lead on." And he did. He took them to the first inn that didn't look to harbor fleas, and they spent the night, in separate rooms.

He was awoken before the sun rose by Meka opening the door quite suddenly, with no regard for his privacy or his slumber. "Master, you must wake up now, something has happened."