Highwinter, once little more than a fishing port in the bustling Qalini Magocracy. Today through its prominent location in the center of the Free Cities and favorable trade winds, a bustling economic center. Travelers from all over the world flock to its docks: Sadian traders bringing spices, silks and rare masterworks from the Dwarven Kingdoms, Imperium nobles coming to sample the varied wares and eccentricities, Warriors from Niratrem selling their services as guards and escorts, Yericlyns wizards selling curealls and magic amulets guaranteed to make you look more attractive, and even Fae creatures either ostracized from the Conclave or having never lived there hiding amongst the faces in the crowd. It was a mixture of accents, languages and dealings that was unheard of in some parts of the world. It was what the idea of the Free Cities tried to instill, a place that anybody could call home.

The Iron Mountain Adventuring Company compound was located in the upper tiers of the city in the Estate District. The Estate District was renowned throughout the city for the opulence of those who lived there and the varied history of the place. A history that could be seen in the large white stoned mansions that have stood since before the fall of the Magocracy. Aristocrats, merchants and anybody who was anybody lived there. It was for these reasons that the Company’s compound was chosen for that location, to show their power and status. The compound itself was a sprawling complex built from the remnants of an old Qalini laboratory. Three stories made of hand carved black stone leading to an intimidating and solid front upon giving the proper impression to prospective clients. Within the compound it had anything that any mercenary, wizard or vagabond needed: open courtyard used for sparring, firing range for those whose combat skills are range intensive, alchemical lab, fully stocked smithy, library with tomes on everything from politics, geography, to subjects more magical in nature, several bunk rooms, a fully stocked cellar filled with the finest ales and wines straight from the Imperium, and much more as nothing was considered too much for Iron Mountain.

It was within these hallowed halls that a lone individual sat on a wooden bench waiting. At first glance of inspection one could easily tell that she was a Halfling, from her small stature and rounded face to her auburn hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. But she did not meet the stereotypical standard of the fun loving, lackadaisical people that most knew her kind as. Hard and determined eyes dominated her face that seemed to have been pulled into an ever permanent scowl. This was combined with her attire which was uncommon for a Halfling to say the least. She was dressed in plate mail grey in color and kept in immaculately well shape, on her back was a great axe that appeared to dwarf her and a strange necklace of a red dragon that from the way she clutched at it seemed religious in nature.

She sat for some time on the bench never slouching always at attention. The smell of fish and the sea wafted in through an open window on a lazy summer breeze. Sweat trickled down the Halfling's face as the oppressive humidity of the port city was relentless. She hated the summer almost as much as she hated Highwinter. It was a place of heathens in constant state debauchery and excess, and the constant aroma of fish was gut wrenching to say the least. But she always did return if only to pick up another job at the compound. Over twenty years she had worked for the Company and for over twenty years she's wondered why she didn't just leave the bastards behind yet.

Her mental sojourn was broken as the door in front of her opened with a groan. Out of it stepped a man of darker color with short black hair. His red vest and the way that he held himself marked him as a steward of sorts. Giving the Halfling a polite smile he bowed before speaking in a smooth baritone that echoed down the Hall. "Lady Vekk, Grog will see you now."

The halfling nodded with a common curiosity that only old acquaintances could provided as she arose from her bench. There was the subtle clanging as metal plates slide against one another with each motion. Standing she casted an intimidating physique for her short stature she carried herself in a professional manner that spoke of one that was familiar with battle and it's unpleasantries the same determined look never leaving her face. She slowly moved towards the door and entered the space within. It was a simple room with a bed in one corner and bookshelves lining the entirety of the shelves filled with books on topics from economic to military history. Currently hunched over the large metal table that judging from the crafting was of old Mapepo make. Hunched over it were two individuals one significantly taller than the other one.

She was only familiar with the taller one as for the past several years he had been her employer. Grog StoneBreaker, the fifth and current Captain of Iron Mountain. They say that he used to be a barbarian, a berserker in what would become the Niratrem empire almost fifty years ago a recruiter for Iron Mountain found him fighting in an arena and they say the rest is history. His body was long and composed of large muscle developed from swinging about two large battle axes about. Though the signs of age did perminate his warrior physique from the wrinkles upon his face, his lack of hair except upon his long snow white beard that barely grazed the floor and the way he hunched over as if his towering physique could no longer remain so high. The man next to him was in dark blue robes with spectacles upon his face, he seemed much younger almost a child compared to Grog but they both conversed in the rapid exchange that could only mean business.

Lady Vekk’s footsteps must of announced her presence as the both looked up from the table and Grog smiled nodded his head and moving over taking the Halfing up into his embrace even in his elder state easily lifting her off the ground. He ushered her over to the table where he introduced her to the other men who was looking at them with a bemused expression upon his face.

“Lady Vekk, this is Percivale Calwen, Junior Scribe of the Vanderveil Monastery in Yeric. Mr. Calwen and the monks of his order are our latest clients.” Grog explained as the Halfling reached over to shake the other man’s hand. As she drew closer her assumptions were right judging from his expression he looked nothing more than a boy maybe twenty years age a bit older. Though the picture he casted upon his face was one of great wisdom and authority of a man much older than he. She tried her best to remember what she heard of the Vandervell monks. They were an isolated group concerned mostly about keeping very accurate histories of the world and as well as keeping The Synergy of Magic always within balance whatever that meant.

“Master Calwen, this is Lady Anzira Vekk Paladin of The Crimson Dragon, First Class. She is also one of our best and a dear friend of mine.” Grog explained not letting down on the praise for a second. Anzira wanted nothing more than to slap him aside the head but he decided to let him have his fun. The boy Calwen nodded and bowed to her with a show of dignity and air about him that only those of noble blood came as natural as him.

“Ah yes Lady Vekk! Grog has told me all about you and assures me that you are exactly the person we need for this job!” Calwen explained with a smile upon his face as he gestured for her to join them around the table. Anzira raised an eyebrow before joining wondering what in the world Grog had gotten her into this time.

“Aye the job! This one is an interesting one indeed. I’m sure you’ll find it meets your expectations.” Grog voiced with a tone that sounded as if he was unsure if he was reassuring her or himself in the manner. Calwen cleared his throat before turning to Anzira in a very solemn manner.

“I presume you already know the tales of Afryl The Uniter of the Thousand Tribes?” Calwen asked quizzically.

“Yes, she’s the Elven Women that was the first to discover primordial magic and united the Fae tribes together to bring an end to the Giants to bring forth the Green Age. Why do you ask?’ Anzira asked her interested now peaked.

“Why.. That is always the interesting question now isn't it?” Calwen mused mostly to himself before he continued. “You see my order has known the location of Afryl’s lost artifacts for sometime. Devices of great magical power that in the wrong hands could easily give whoever had control over them dominion over our entire world. We’ve kept the locations a secret to ward off any intruders and prevent any misfortunes from occurring. All in the name of the greater good.”

“But if you are coming to us for help, I figure something has gone wrong..”

“You would be correct in that assumption sadly. It has recently come to our knowledge that two of the three lost artifacts have been taken from their former dwellings. Due to the isolated and secretive location of these items we can only assume this was not some accident.” Calwen explained sounding resigned and saddened as if he blamed the thievery on himself. Looking down at the table beneath him he ran a finger against the complex line work.

“And you want us to make sure this does not happen to the rest?” The halfling asked her head cocked to one side as she regarded the situation in front of her running logistics in her head.

“You’ve read my mind Lady Vekk. Me and my compatriots would find it most kind of Iron Mountain if they could help us resolve this issue before anything troubling comes of it. You, a small team of trusted individuals, and myself would head out by the end of the week towards the last known location of the last man alive who knows the location of the final artifact. From there we will head out to retrieve it and hopefully intercept and deal with the vagabonds that intend to use this power for vile deeds. I can assure you that we pay our friends very well.” Calwen explained in a matter of fact way.

“You ask a lot of us Mr. Calwen and on such a short notice. But I feel if what you say is true and that these artifacts could end life as we know it on Dorthargal I feel we have little choice in the manner. Luckily for you, I think I have just the right team in mind for the job.” Anzira explained a small smile upon her face as Grog appeared out of nowhere with a bushel of papers and soon the signing of the contracts had begun.

---

One Week Later
Highwinter
The Docks

Lady Vekk sat alone in the guest quarters of the merchant barge Loyalist, that would take them on the first step of their journey. The ship was heading due north towards a small border city between Niratrem and Yeric called Kailee's End from there they would head due east into unclaimed territory. From that point on it was a mystery as their client and traveling companion Mr. Calwen refused to devoid any more information than that at the current moment. Anzira looked up for her perch examining the map that plotted their journey as heard the squeaky cabin door be opened.

Percivale came down from the stairs in a hurry holding his long flowing blue robes aloft as he did to keep himself from tripping. He approached the Halfling quickly with a sense of urgency about him as he spoke, from what Anzira had gathered he was always like this, always moving, always agitated about something. “Your associates have they arrived yet?”

Lady Vekk looked at the worried young man and raised an eyebrow as she did. She wanted to tell him off and explain that she wasn't her people’s keeper but instead she collected herself inwardly before she spoke. “I assure you they are coming. Most are probably finishing up any remaining business they have in the city before they set out, settling any debts and getting supplies you know things you usually do before you set out for some months.”

“Yes, Yes but we are on a very tight schedule and the captain of the Loyalist won’t wait here forever you know! And he is the only trader for a month that is heading to Kailee's End.” He explained with worried hand gestures.

“You know for one of an ancient monastic order based around balance of the self and world you sure do worry a lot.” She explained in a teasing fashion as she stepped away from the table and grabbed at his arm, yanking him towards the door.

“Come let us go outside and wait for them there to ease your little heart.” She explained dragging him towards the door.

Erik kneeled down next to the bear, pulling arrows from its hide. He judged each one, and kept the useable ones, while discarding the broken ones. The bear was sufficiently dead it seemed, a dozen arrows later. He stood up, brushing his hands on his thighs, and putting his bow over his shoulder. Erik turned and smiled. "Lazuli, if you would be so kind, and help me." Erik said politely. The large rock creature turned to him slowly, and walked over. He stooped over, and grabbed the bear in one gigantic hand, lifting it up to his shoulder, and placing it there.

Erik walked around Lazuli, and grabbed the rope around his waist, hoisting himself up, climbing up and Large stone man's back. He tied a rope around the bear to secure it, and then sat on the other shoulder, feet touching Lazuli's chest. "Onward! My friend!" Erik cried out, happily. He reached into a belt pouch, and produced a pipe. Lazuli started the trek towards the city, made much quicker with his longer leg strides and nearly limitless stamina. Erik put a pinch of tobacco into the pipe, and fumbled about his pockets for a match. As he did so, he asked. "Tell me my friend, what song would you like to hear today?" Erik found the match, struck it, and lit the pipe taking a long draw.

Lazuli started to shrug, before realizing it would likely crush the bear and Erik. Where Erik's voice was similar to honey, Lazuli's sounded like Gravel grinding together. "Something nice." Erik pondered for a minute, as he reached around for his Lute. He strummed it a few times, and then began to sing. "Let me tell you about a maiden most fair, who had a smile as warm as the sun." Lazuli clapped as the two friends traveled through the forest, a thunderous sound preceding the two.

Within a few hours the two had made it out of the woods, into more civilized land, and finally to the city proper. Erik had long ago put the pipe away, and hung his lute from his backpack again. He climbed down from Lazuli's back as they approached the gate. Erik and Lazuli's presence in the city was still not very common, so many people gawked, and the guard waiting for them was already on edge. Erik reached into a pouch to produce two passes. He handed them to the guard, stating that he was with Iron Mountain. When the guard would shuffle to the second pass, he'd find a handful of coins. The man would look up at Erik, and hand the passes back while pocketing the coins. Erik would just smile his toothy grin, and bow lightly, breaking into a small fit on laughter.

"Lets go Lazuli! Market district!" He said aloud as he climbed onto the Golem's back. Erik was pleased, today was payday, and they were going on an exceptionally large quest which should promise a healthy paycheck. Erik leaned down. "Let me know if something catches your eye, I have money to spare. Flute or Lute?" He asked. "Flute please" Lazuli responded, as musical notes followed the pair through the city streets, people parting ways for the stone man and giving a wide berth.

While the navigated the market on the way to their destination, Erik would climb down three times. Once to buy a skin of wine, twice to buy a meat pie, and third to buy a small wooden dwarf that Lazuli liked. Erik placed the Dwarf in the small bag on Lazuli's back, it had other knickknacks in it, small things he liked. Finally, they arrived at the Tannery. The man had asked them to acquire a bear pelt. Erik undid the ropes holding up the bear before climbing down. "Laz, my friend, if you could lower the bear." Erik said as he walked into the open front stall. Erik smiled. "My good man, I have gotten you what you wanted, and much more!" He said turning to gesture the bear corpse lying in the street.

The man was large, bald, heavy set and strong. He had built a layer from eating well, but you could tell there was muscle beneath it. "What is this?" He exclaimed. "I just wanted the pelt! Not the whole bear!" He turned to Erik, and pointed at the bear. "I should have gone to Iron mountain! They'd have gotten me just a bear pelt! What do I do with a whole bear?" The man yelled, red in the face.

Erik put his hands up. "Whoa, Dieter, Whoa. Calm down my friend. You can sell the meat! You can make a profit on this! Get the butcher involved, or sell it yourself! This is a boon!"

Dieter was furious. "No! That is so much extra work! And I barely make enough to stay afloat. I should have gone to Iron Mountain! They'd have gotten just the pelt! I can turn that into something in a few days! But this, takes me so long to skin it! To cut the meat and sell it if I do! You know Iron mountain doesn't like freelancers, Erik!"

Erik pointed at the man. "Half what we agreed on Dieter. Sell the meat to the butcher. Don't go to Iron mountain over this." Erik hadn't told them he was doing this job, he didn't want to forfeit all the pay. At half price he was still making a little more than he would have through Iron.

Dieter looked at Erik for a moment, but licking his lip. "Alright Erik, but if you ever do this again." He said as he produced a bag of coins. He opened it up, and removed half, before throwing it to Erik. "Now get out." Erik caught the bag, and bowed his head, waving his hand around. "Suit yourself. Friend." He said as he turned and walked out, climbing onto Lazuli's back. "Lets go to the dock, got people waiting on us. I'll play a song later, not in the mood anymore." Erik muttered as they cut through the crowd, feeling the heat from the sun on his forehead, and a slowly brewing anger on his neck.

By the time the two had gotten to the Dock, he had mostly calmed down, drinking from his wine skin, and finishing the meat pie. He saw a halfling and an Antsy boy waiting for them. Erik climbed down from Lazuli's back. "Lady Vekk" He said politely. Erik turned to Percivale and nodded his head. "Sir Erik Volker, Free knight, bard, and adventurer. Slayer of all things big and small, at your service." He said embellishing and pointblank lying about being a knight. He turned slightly, open palm to Lazuli. "And this is my friend, and traveling companion..." Erik trailed off for Lazuli to finish. "Lazuli. I'm Lazuli. I've never been on a boat before."

As the first beams of morning light snuck through cracks in boarded-up windows, the young man sat up slowly, a splitting pain shooting through his head. His senses were immediately assaulted by the consequences of the previous night as well as the humid smell of sweat, fish, and cheap ale that seemed to be synonymous with all of the dingy buildings located this close to the docks of Highwinter. He always told himself that he would move out of this room into somewhere nicer, but, for some reason, he had never actually done it.

Jericho Dreaver was an attractive man with a young face getting older and older as a result of his hard life. Squinting through his deep brown eyes at the small room, he massaged his aching head with strong but nimble hands, tanned to an almond color like the rest of his upper body. As his arms flexed, the tattoos covering the entirety of his right arm – a mermaid representing foolish youthful dreams of piracy and a rose inscribed with names that had been pushed deep down into Jericho's subconscious – seemed to dance.

From the stirring next to him, Jericho could tell that he didn't have long to escape the room before he would be forced to deal with another of his previous night's consequences. Her name was Cerias, and this small, musty room was located just above the tavern that she worked in. She was pretty – in a common sort of way – and Jericho had made a habit recently of bringing her upstairs with him at the end of her shift. As he gazed upon her body, wrapped tightly in his blankets, he felt anger stir up from deep in his breast. Anger at her, anger at himself for falling into such a predictable rut, anger at the guilt that he inevitably felt, a remnant from his religious moral past... he didn't even know. All he knew was that he was unhappy with his situation.

Like usual, Jericho resolved himself to sneak out of the room. Taking care not to make any noise, he ruffled the messy buckskin-colored hair of his pseudo-mohawk into a halfway decent appearance and made his way over to the pile he had left his clothes in. He pulled a thin cloth shirt and brown leather trousers over his lean, 5'7” frame before sliding on his hard, leather boots and armguard. He slung his cutlass, Sabine, over his shoulder and took one last guilty look at Cerias. He shook his head, because, like his anger, he didn't even know what the source of his guilt was. Was he letting himself down? His God? Was his guilt towards the innocent girl who so dearly wanted to be actually cared for the first time in her life of poverty and struggle. He always hated himself when he told her that he loved her.

Of course he didn't love her. He hadn't loved anyone since Lyanna.

Lyanna... Had he indeed loved her? With hindsight he would often remember his times with the dangerous woman as warm and loving; however, their story was far from the ideal romance. Full of bickering and immaturity, the two had never even entered into an exclusive relationship. Lyanna was devious, even manipulating, and Jericho couldn't even be sure how she had ever felt about him. The mixture of the truth and the idealized version of his adolescence was too painful and confusing to attempt to rationalize. As a result, Jericho prevented himself from any sort of raw emotion that could reverse his intentional dulling of his sensitivities. If the strict morality and confidence of his past was buried along with his emotions... well...

The Architect wasn't part of his life anymore anyway.

Jericho put all of this retrospection behind him. He was expected at the docks by his superiors in the Iron Mountain Adventuring Company, and there were still a few things that demanded attention before months of expected absence from the city. That was a completely different lifetime anyway.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Jericho's last necessities were collected: daggers fresh from being sharpened, a heavy cloth doublet, a hardleather shoulder pauldron and bandolier-sheath combination, a parchment sketchpad, and a quill enchanted to write without needing ink. His purse was near-empty, so he was relieved to be taking this job with the company. He wandered through the streets of Highwinter towards the docks, passing commotion aplenty. Fishermen shouted and cursed, tossing barrels of fish to each other. They were big, burly, and hairy and had clearly not showered since their night of smoking, ale, and women. Jericho cringed at the reminder of his own night.

Shrugging it off, he focused instead on the children playing. Little boys from all around the known world ran around together, play fighting with sticks and pipes and teasing little girls with their bouncing balls and cloth dolls. Jericho saw slightly older kids with slightly more devious passtimes, reminiscent of his own youth. A few children – clearly born of Sadian merchants based on their rich clothes – sat outside a small bakery, smoking something that less-wealthy, more-involved parents would never allow to fall into their children's hands. Further down the street, children were throwing rocks at a homeless beastman, a large, haggard fox, until the beastman chased them off angrily with a length of chain. As unsavory a sight that was, the next alleyway held something worse. A lifeless body of a... lady of the night... lay hunched up against the wall of a tavern. Though dead bodies were not a terribly uncommon sight around these areas, this one certainly gave Jericho a sick feeling in his gut. A senseless loss of life for a woman – no more than a girl actually – who was probably just a victim of some man who got carried away and who will never spare her another thought as long as he lives.

Highwinter was a place of many wonders and pleasantries from fine clothes and perfumes to delicious foods, but it was also a place of sorrow and hardship. For every rich merchant or nobleman trying on a new scarf and sipping fine wine from a crystal clear glass, there were ten people living in poverty, mixing their sorrows with cheap drink and violence. Jericho was glad to be finally arriving at the docks and the merchant ship that would take him away to the next chapter of his life: The Loyalist. Jericho walked up the gangplank towards two men, a halfling woman, and a golem.

A golem.

You never knew what to expect with the Iron Mountain Adventuring Company.

Creek Pause Creek Creek Creek Pause

The sound of steps trying to be silent down an old and noisy staircase. The footfalls echoing down into the basement would have normally alerted Gorur of danger, but the sturdy dwarf knew the pattern all too well. The dwarf continued to use his chisel beneath the stationary lens that he was looking through and cut precisely into what he was working on. Now that he was paying attention, he could hear the steps go room to room, the source looking for it's victim.

He put another cut into the coin he was working on. It was slow and tedious work, but the end result would be fairly nice. He was carving runes into gold, one of the best conductors of enchantments. The gold was shaped into a coin, with one side having an emblem of fire and the other with lots of small marks. If observed closely, one would see that these small marks were in fact about ten tiny runes.

As a general rule of enchanting, the efficiency of the enchantment would be greater with cleaner runes, purer metal, and larger runes. Since the runes had to be minuscule on this coin, the runes needed to be perfect or else the result would be disappointingly weak. Gorur had been working on this for a week.

Patience was the primary reason Gorur was near legend at enchanting. Most enchanters would hurry through their work, seeking another contract. They would work off their blind eye, and ignore the improvements in effiecency from using a lens to make one's work more accurate.

The end result of this coin would be rather interesting. The coin, Lustro, would store up energy from the sun when not in use. However, upon speaking it's name and a command, the coin would release a certain amount of that energy as heat. It could be used for several things, such as starting a fire or providing the heat of one if there can't be any smoke. Gorur placed the final stroke into it and smiled at the result.

"Checking my progress on this? I just finished." He rotated in his stool to a figure about 18 inches away from him. The figure was a female halfling, sporting brown hair with streaks of gray and innocent blue eyes. She let out a sigh, and sat in his lap.

"That's unfair. How do you always know?" She spoke quietly, feigning exhaustion in her tone. They both knew this was a game they had played for the last fifteen years of their marriage. It had inadvertently made Gorur be able to detect almost any halfling with ease. This had surprised several pickpockets who thought they were unable to be heard when they were confronted with the angry gray beard of Gorur.

He ignored her fifteen year old question. "The news Maruna? And where is Nolak and the three hellions?" Nolak was Gorur's squire of ten years. The squire was close to graduation and if circumstances were normal he would have already. The three hellions were his children, Risba a twelve year old dwarvern lady, Biric a ten year old boy, and Lakan a six year old halfling boy.

"Oh? They are out getting things ready for your cart."
"My cart? What's going on?
"You have an hour until you need to be on the docks. Yes, I've known about this for three days. Yes, I thought it'd be more fun to see you panic as you try to gather your gear in time." Maruna smiled deviously at him, a wide grin on her face. "And yes, I made you apple pies" She kissed Gorun on the cheek.



Gorun showed up at the Loyalist ten minutes early. He was wearing a simple dwarvern cloak with his house emblem shown on his left arm, a gold double sided axe with grey beards extending from beneath the blades. He also wore his mythril shortsword at his hip along with a few miscellaneous pouches. Maruna was with him, carrying a small stack of apple pies. Looking at the Loyalist he smiled.

A rather ironic ship to lead me on my next journey. I'm a Knight who betrayed his kingdom.

A moment later the cart showed up, lead by a pair of donkeys. Three kids and an armored figure were guiding it. Nolak guided the cart onto the ship, and the three kids surrounded Gorur. He picked each of them up in turn.

I have five minutes...

By the end of the five minutes he had promised to bring home a magical tiara, a mythril rapier, and a bag of holding. He scooped up his three children and passed them off to Maruna, kissing her on the cheek. "Have to go." "Be safe! And be sure to share the pies with your friends!"

Gorun boarded the ship, helping settle down the donkeys with Nolak, double checking to make sure everything was in the cart that they would need. Gorun apologized for making Nolak stay home, but Nolak understood. After extracting promises that Gorun would return home in one piece and that Nolak would hold down the fort the party split. Nolak rejoined his family and Gorun waved them goodbye.

I may never seem them again...

The knight approached the halfling that appeared to be in charge, who had a robed man, a liar, and a golem standing next to her. "I'm assuming you are Lady Vett, I am Sir Gorun of House Gravelbeard, and I am glad to be of service. Sorry for the delay. My cart should be able to fit a bit more on it if another needs aid in carrying their possessions." Gorun extended a hand to shake with his new captain.

Looking over, he spotted a tattooed man standing alone with a cutlass. Former pirate perhaps? He appeared to be staring at the golem like he'd never seen on before.

Highwinter was the very portrait of a city of adventure he often found in his books. A miasma of wonder and merriment wafted in the breeze of this city, infecting the denizens with romanticism and freedom. Aehren often wondered what it would have been like if he came to this city full of idealism and naiveté. Would he have fallen in love with the concept Highwinter represented?

It was useless to ponder over it. He was already set in his path and he would not have it any other way.

Aehren stared out into the sea from atop his balcony. His uncle’s mansion lied in the Estates District that overlooked the city—only the lord’s castle boasted a higher viewpoint. He knew his uncle’s room also had a balcony that gave him this same perspective and when he first arrived to Highwinter he wondered why his uncle chose to give him this room. The view was nice, but there was something more to it than just that. At first he thought it was meant as a show of opulence and prestige, but his uncle scoffed at that idea.

It was not until he learned of his uncle’s position as a Luminary did he finally understand. His view from his balcony showed not only the esteemed parts of Highwinter but also the more unsavory elements of it. As one of the (secret) leaders of the city, his uncle reminded himself every day of his responsibility to this city. This grand picture of Highwinter framed by his home displayed the enormity of his authority and burden.

His uncle did so love his subtle games.

“Aehren?” he heard his uncle ask, his voice muffled behind his door. The man didn’t bother to ask permission to enter his room—he was the master of his house, after all.

The door opened and shut, and light footsteps crossed his room. Aehren greeted him only when he passed through the threshold onto his balcony. “Uncle, I thought you would be busy,” he said. “You mentioned needing to ensure the position of magistrate for your candidate,” he mentally added.

“Fortuitously, there was no need for any intervention on my part. The other candidate seemed to have met an untimely demise. No doubt the man’s gambling debts finally caught up to him.”

Aehren could practically hear the smile in his uncle’s voice. He turned around and found that there was indeed a smile on his uncle’s face. Ephraim Enaghast did not have the physique of an intimidating man. He was as skinny and lanky as Aehren was but lacked the height of a Nohr. His eyes were sharp and calculating as one would expect from a man of his position but the wide dimples and smile on his face belied the cunning intellect beneath it. He had black-grey hair swept back and held in place by some substance, but he was beginning to show his age with the white steaks on his sideburns and temple.

The Enaghasts were a distinguished family harkening back to when the Qalini Magocracy still stood strong. There was no single specialty they were known for, but there were rumors they dabbled in sorcery of the dark and forbidden kind. Nevertheless, the Enaghasts rarely ventured north, preferring the south in their business. It was only a quirk of fate that tied the Enaghasts with the cold Nohrs of Wolfsworn.

Uncle Ephraim’s eyes roamed from his feet to his head, taking note of his attire. Aehren cared little for the silk and linen his uncle provided him for social events, preferring leathers and furs which he currently wore. His other equipment were already strapped and placed hidden in their compartments in his coat, his main weapon—a magical rifle—lied on the table beside in the center of his room. His uncle nodded his head, approving his attire.

“I understand this is an important mission?” his uncle asked, but Aehren knew better than to assume he didn’t know before he did. “Words arrived from my niece to be wary of this particular quest you’re about to undertake.”

He frowned, no doubt disapproving of this magic.

“You assume she sees the future?” he asked, smiling wryly at the apprehension.

“Whether or not I believe doesn’t matter. Just be safe and do nothing to worry her, is that understood? 'Succeed, Aehren,' were her words.”

Aehren nodded, understanding the hidden meaning within it. Though he was now a man grown, he would forever be seen as a child in his uncle’s eyes. He appreciated the sentiment of family between them, but he did not wish to be coddled. He did manage to gain some notoriety amongst the members of Iron Mountain.

The two conversed for a little while longer before Aehren thought it was time to part. They were not people of sentimentality and so there was no need to show any grand displays of affection. After collecting his equipment and supplies, the Winter Wolf left his uncle and headed for the docks where he was supposed to rendezvous with the others.

Aehren quickly found the ship, the Loyalist, and promptly boarded. Immediately upon arriving, he began scanning the others that were on deck. He took note of every one of them and found some peculiarities amidst the lot, but he had grown used to such oddities when he was off adventuring for the Iron Mountain. So far he appeared to be the only one with a firearm… and he was also the youngest judging from appearances.

He made his introduction some time after the dwarf was finished, “Aehren Nohr the Winter Wolf of Wolfsworn.”

---

The crew was surprised as the Loyalist pulled into the docks at Kailee's End as many more ships were leaving than arriving all filled to the rim with people. Taking a spot on the dock, Lady Vekk and the rest of the Iron Moutain stayed aboard as Yyhr left to go find the harbor master to go pay him and try and gather news about the situation. They waited and waited as the sun grew dark and the stars began to dance across the sky mysteriously enough the houses they could see from beyond the walls that separated the docks from the rest of the city no lights were seen to light up the sky and no sounds of tavern goers and others had been heard for most of the day. Eventually early into the evening Yyhr returned with a rare grim expression on his face as he approached Lady Vekk with some rather disturbing news.

"Aye missy, I don't think that you or your team are going to be getting into the city anytime soon." He muttered gravely as his hand played with the hilt of his sword, a habit that the Slyvn only displayed when he was severally agitated.

"Huh? That's preposterous! What do you mean we can't get in?" Calwen explained in close proximity with the others all having leaned in to hear the news.

"I mean young man that it would be probably in your best interest to try again another damn time." Yyhr explained his voice sharp and rough as he had no intention of taking Calwen's upper class attitude giving the boy the devil's eye as to say that the grownups were talking.

"Now I'll say-" Calwen began to exclaim before his halfling companion shoved an iron gaunlent upon his mouth muffling his voice in an attempt to not anger the plantman who looked about to the point of skewering the boy.

"Yyhr what my client meant to say is can you care to explain the situation to us as we have been currently left out in the dark as it has seemed. Lady Vekk replied in a polite and almost sweet tone trying to ease the old sea captains obviously agitated state.

Yyhr took a deep breath before he spoke again his voice grave and filled with something bordering on contempt. "It is dirty business Anzira... dirty business indeed. In all my years I would of never dreamed it of happening. Uthar would of never done anything like it... But three days ago under the order of Emperor Malnor of the Nitraem Empire, a Nitraem occupational force marched into Kailee's End and slaughtered anyone that resisted."

"The Niratemi? What in the name of the gods are they doing conquering a free city? What about the Lord's Conduct?" Lady Vekk asked clearly agitated at this news at this just complicated manners greatly as if Nitraem was going on another warpath things could get very dangerous around where they were at very quickly if they deiced to try and push into Yeric.

"That's the thing missy it would seem that Malnor strong-armed the rest of the Free Cities into turning a blind eye as to not face his sword himself. Apparently his excuse was that Kailee's End was old Niratemi land back when they were goddamn barbarians prancing about naked and that it was Kailee's End Qalini progneators that took it from them and that Malnor's forces were just taking back what was rightfully belonged to their ancestors. Or as I see it a clever ruse to seize one of the more important cities upon which they could launch a full scale invasion into the West." The plant man explained coldly his voice as bitter as any poison.

"Ah... this is bad news for things to come Yyhr for this will only end badly. Though at the current moment this is not our fight and we have a contract we must fulfill even if the world goes to barbarism." The halfing explained her voice strong and filled with conviction as her hard eyes starred back up at him, exactly the thing you'd expect for a warrior of Iron Mountain always the professionals never backing down because of a minor inconvenience. Though it seemed it this point the paladin was more so trying to convince herself of her current position.

"Aye, I understand the sentiment missy but you know I can't stay any longer. With things becoming as bad as they are I must make it back to Highwinter in case the Loyalist must set sail for battle." He explained a smile upon his lips the boisterous quality coming back to his voice as he seemed to relish the idea of combat once more.

"Yes of course Yyhr I understand. Thank you for taking us this far you have always been a good friend to Iron Mountain. May the gods watch over you." She explained making a sort of religious gesture with her hands, an old blessing for sailors heading out to sea.

The living plant smiled and bowed his head before ushering them off the ship and ordering the men to get ready to set sail. As the Loyalist pulled out into the night back towards open water he called back one last time."There is a tavern! The Wise Trader it is closer to the gates! You may find a way through the city there!"

---

The sound of battle surrounded Eren. It was a glorious sound, that of battle. It was also horrifying. It was the sound of men dying, of their guts slowly falling out of their stomachs and their mouths welling with blood. It was the sound of men pleading for their mothers to come in save them, to make all their pain go away. It was the sound of men crying as they shat their trousers and pissed their breeches with fear. It was a magnificent sound.
Eren made his way through the battle, hacking at foes that were foolish enough to come close to him. An effortless parry, then a quick jab and then they were dead. He left a trail of death behind him, an offering to the God of Death. And onward he marched, through the chaos that was the battlefield. He didn't have any true notion of where he was going. He simply wandered, killing those who would attempt to kill him, as the battle raged all around him. He paid it no mind, as cavalry charged around him, as catapults sent boulders the size of hovels crashing by his feet. It was nothing to him.
He never noticed the battlefield fade around him. Slowly, like the sun setting beneath the horizon, the field grew darker and darker, until that was left was darkness. Eren waited, and suddenly, there was a flicker of light, a tiny glow in the distance. Slowly it grew and grew, until it was a full fire, crackling beneath the mantle. Eren approached it steadily, slowly. It seemed familiar to him, though he could not quite place it in his mind. Whatever it was, he felt a bad feeling, a clenching of his guts. Yet he continued onward, closer to that flickering flame.
As he got closer, the flame got brighter. It began to illuminate more. Now there was a full room, a lavish stone set of chambers. It was complete with a large table for private dining, a wash basin, a desk for writing, wardrobes for garments, and a large, four-post bed. Eren paid it all no mind, though. He focused on one thing and one thing only. A woman, tall and long-limbed stood by the fire. She clutched a child to her chest, slowly bouncing it up and down. Eren heard a faint sound, as quite as a mouse, as she hummed a tune to the child. Eren reached out, his hand desperately grasping at the woman as he began to realize, to remember. His hand wrapped around her shoulder and slowly the woman turned around.
At first, Eren was filled with a sense of bliss. There he was, staring at his beautiful wife. Her blond hair cascaded around his face in long golden waves, reflecting the flickering light of the fire. Her emerald eyes shone, despite the darkness of the room. Her soft, small lips were drawn upwards in a gentle smile. The child gave out a small gurgling, as if it were laughing. And Eren was filled with happiness. Yet even as he enjoyed the moment, it began to twist, to become corrupted from its beauty and bliss. His wife's face began to change before him. Here eyes became dark and empty, holding no light where it once did. Her smile turned into one of menace. A faint line of blood trickled down her face from the corner of her mouth. Her face had grown pale, paler than a corpse. He noticed that the baby she clutched was no longer gurgling or playfully moving, but ghastly still. He realized that she held a dead and rotting child.

"You left us. You left me. Why? WHY?" His wife's voice rising to a scream. Her hands reached out at him, suddenly empty. They grasped around his neck, squeezing, clawing. Eren began to feel blood well. His vision grew dark. And all he could do was gasp "Sorry. Sorry." over and over again as the tears welled in his eyes.



Eren awoke with a start, gasping for breath. He could still feel the faint remnants of nails digging into neck. He shook the feeling off, dismissing him as a fool. It was dream, nothing else. Now get up, you have work to do. They'll be rest for you when your dead. And Gods did he long for that day.
Slowly, Eren got to his feet. His back and neck were cramped, as he had slept the night in the crook of a tree. Not the most comfortable of beds, but it had been the best shelter from the previous night's rain that he could fine. Cracking his neck, he rid himself of his cramp and began to stretch. Yawning, he began to collect his things. They were not plentiful. His pistols and his knife had remained attached to his belt through the night. Oathkeeper had rested beside him and he now swung it over his back. The only other thing he had was his bag, which was full of a few rations, a fire starting kit, and a carefully wrapped and oiled head as proof he had completed his contract.
His things gathered, he began to set off, back towards Kailee's End. He began to think of that head, and the man it had once belonged to. Not a bad man, not at all. Simply a man addicted to gambling and not a steady enough income to support that addiction. He fell behind on his debts, angered the wrong man and then attempted to flee. Unfortunately for him, the man he had angered had a surplus of wealth, enough to pay for the Iron Mountain to collect that man's head. And that was where Eren came in. It was a simple mission. The man had been easy to track and he put up no fight. An easy one, far beneath Eren's qualifications. But a job was a job and so he went where the Iron Mountain sent him. He couldn't complain. The Adventuring Company was good, as far as jobs went. Eren did not dislike it. But it wasn't war, it wasn't the life of a soldier, fighting for something greater than himself, with his brothers beside him.
Eren shook his head, clearing himself of his thoughts. That life was far gone, that man dead and the land far gone. At least here, in the Free Cities, he was free of that. Here, the only demons that haunted him were the ones in his head.
The rest of the journey to Kailee's End passed by swiftly. Soon enough the thick forest gave way to a sparser woods, with the trees more spread out and more room to move existing. Those woods then gave way to plains. Eventually, those plains yielded the city of Kailee's End. It was unimpressive, at least in the Free Cities standards. It was on the smaller side, compared to the likes of Highwinter. A tall, thick wall surrounded it but to Eren's trained eye, he could see that with a few powerful siege engines, they would easily fall. Eren was used to the sight, as he had been stationed in the area for the Iron Mountain for the past few months. Something caught his breath as he came closer to the city, though. For as he squinted in the rising sunlight, Eren saw the flags that flew from the top of the city's crenelations: the Red Dragon of Niratrem.
Eren staggered as if he had been dealt a physical blow. He could not imagine what he was seeing. He had not seen that banner in years. What was it doing here, this far south. Suddenly, he grew paranoid. Where they here for him? Had they finally found him and they had come to finish what they had started? Eren unconsciously began to finger the hilt of his pistol. Slowly, recovering, Eren continued onward.
He was allowed through the open gate, though not before receiving questioning glares from the soldiers stationed on the wall. Eren immediately recognized them as the Third Legion, a fighting force renown in the empire for their brutality and cruelty. The were also part of the military that sat firmly in Malnar's lap. Eren continued through the streets, concealing his face with a hood and keeping his head low, concealing himself in the shadows. Eren made a quick stop at his employers estate, tossing the head at the man's feet. He was traded for it a pouch heavy with coin and with his payment, Eren was on his way.
He made his way towards the tavern he had stayed at, the Wise Trader. Immediately, he sat himself at the bar and ordered the strongest thing the bartender had. Then, he began to observe the scene around them. The tavern was fairly packed, as it often was. Most sat to themselves, either by their lonesome or in small groups, as was often the case in bars. But Eren immediately noticed two larger groups. One he recognized as fellow members of the Iron Mountain, by the way they carried themselves. He assumed these were the contacts he was told to meet. The other group, however, was less welcome.
A group of ten or so Niratremi soldiers, all drinking deeply and laughing and talking boisterously. Many of them were pawing at the serving girls, the youngest of whom could be no older than fifteen. Eren immediately was filled with rage. These were no Gallants, sworn to protect the innocent. They were the monsters of war, who used their strength to exploit the reach. Eren, swallowing down his rage with a quick shot of a particularly strong Dwarven brandy, tried to calm himself. Yet as he watched the soldiers begin to rip the clothing of some of these women, he could contain himself no longer.
He sprung to his feet, saxe knife in hand. Oathkeeper would be too large crammed in this tavern and the pistols would attract too much attention. Unnoticed, Eren crossed the room in three long strides. One of the soldiers had raised a hand, prepared to strike one of the girls for resisting him. It was then that Eren struck. He leaped forward, his knife darting in his hand. Before any of the Niratremi had realized what had happened, he had pinned the soldier's hand to the table with the knife. The man screamed in pain, his hand stained red. Within an instant, his companions had all gotten to their feet, weapons drawn. Eren smiled cynically. He was in for it now.

At the sight of the soldiers, Jericho bristled. Though he didn't want to act rashly and possibly worsen the situation, the young man felt his heart pound heavily in his chest as his anger rose. Though he'd compromised his morals in the past, this sort of harassment was completely out of the realm of decency. Jericho knew that the Architect often created circumstances to test his followers, and, though he had not been devout in recent times, he still felt an obligation to do what he was called to do. He knew all too well the sickening regret that came after he let himself and his god down. His deviant behavior came to him more and more frequently. Lust, wrath, pride, greed... He still apologized for his crimes. To himself or to the Architect – it wasn't clear anymore, because he knew that he would only mean it for a moment before temptation called again.

He wouldn't be apologizing this time.

Jericho looked around at his formidable companions, halfling reaching for her axe, dwarf and golem each looking formidable as ever, the monster hunter with his scarred pedigree of a body, and a deep, dangerous chill emanating from the quiet one. Though heavenly Jericho that dying for a good cause was even more meaningful than winning a fight, earthly Jericho had every intention of staying alive. With his fellow Iron Mountain adventurers, the young man's confidence was bolstered, and he felt the blood shoot through his veins with a righteous fury.

With an intentionally clear motion, Jericho reached for Sabine, his cutlass, with his right hand. Intentionally less clear was his left hand which went to his hip, fingers grasping one of the daggers on his belt. This grip was disguised by the heavy – yet not bulky – armguard that sheltered him with heavy, interlocking leather plates from his left clavicle, down his deltoid, and halfway down his forearm where it was met by his gauntlet.

He surveyed the room of the tavern, outlining possible pathways for him to dance in and out of battle through. First the soldiers; they wore full body armor – clearly still on duty – and kept their weapons close, some even in the hands of their masters – a seemingly unnecessary display of power. Though Jericho could see that they were actually a lack of diligence and empty bravado, their actions would provide a challenge for the Iron Mountain adventurers.

The rest of the patrons in the bar were the seedy sort Jericho was used to, but their lack of action in this very situation meant that, in all likelihood, they would similarly sit back if a fight broke out. This would actually benefit Jericho, for his swashbuckling combat style would unravel quickly if he was no longer able to stay out of the reach of his opponent's weapons. Tables, chairs, the strumming bard – all obstacles to be utilized. What Jericho couldn't parry with a glancing blow he would dodge, putting obstacles or free space between cutting swords or jabbing spears, nimble feet carrying him to safety. With his opponent off balance, he would skip back into the fray, stabbing or slashing conservatively until he puts all of the momentum in his 5'7” body behind a guaranteed killing blow.

As he finally approached the table, he was met by one of the Niratremi towards the edge. Jericho boldly stepped up to him, a brutish looking man with a wide, squashed nose, and only one eyebrow that covered his entire sloped brow. As the smaller man looked up at the guard in defiance, the Niratremi's one eyebrow furrowed shock and indignation that he would be challenged, especially by one with such a slight build. Before he could do anything, however, a wet squishing sound followed by a thud shot through the air, and there was a moment of silence. Once they came to their senses, the guards jumped up in aid of their fellow.

An instant later, Sabine was out of her sheath and the young pirate's body was in motion.

Erik spent the majority of the time on the boat doing one of three things. Throwing up, answering whatever random question Lazuli had, or sleeping. On the last day, he finally recovered, as they were sailing into calmer waters. He went topside with Lazuli and offered to answer any questions, but for once, the rock was quiet as... a rock.

As Yyhr prepared to sail again, Lazuli separated to thank the plant man, who had answered Lazuli's plentiful questions about his species, how the boat sailed, and again, his endless assault of questions in his search for general knowledge. Erik had never been to this town so he settled to follow Lady Vekk. He strummed his lute idly, not playing a real tune.

Lazuli leaned forward as they walked. "Do you want a ride, Erik?" He asked politely.

Erik spun on his heel, and walked backwards. "Ah, you're too kind my friend. My legs are a bit sore from not being able to walk so much on the boat. I'll handle it myself for now." he said, smiling as he spun back to walk with the group.

"Erik, do you know why they call this town Kailee's end?"

The bard stopped strumming for a second, as he pondered. "I don't rightly know, Laz." He said, plucking a chord. "I would assume it could be a few things. At one point maybe a great hero, the valiant Kailee took a stand. They fought to their last breath outside the gates, barely holding the line! The cityfolk would creep out the next day, and find their hero, barely breathing. Maybe Kailee's love would hold them as they died, as the town would be renamed for them! Yes, I like this tale. I'll ask around for you, but I do believe this could it!" Erik said, spinning the tale on the spot, to Lazuli's amusement.

Entering the bar, Erik would stop playing his instrument as artistic respect for the other bard, and would take a seat with Lazuli, who was sitting on the ground with a stoop to avoid scraping the ceiling. Before he could really start to get to know the members of the Iron mountain they were with, a man with a suicide wish would attack the table of guards.

Seeing them all stand up, Erik would stand up, shouting. "Friends! Friends! Please!" he said, his hands in the air, palms up, smiling. Lazuli slowly stood up. Erik would walk over to Eren, putting his arm around him, and punching him in the gut. "You'll have to forgive my friend here! He's drunk, has had a hard day, and thats his cousin! tempers flare! Please." Erik said. He would bow a little, and smile again, slowly resting his hand on his sword.

"Now." Erik would say, slowly moving his hand to the small bag of coins on his hip. "We can settle this two ways. I buy you a round of drinks, my friend here apologizes, and you leave the girl be, she has said no." Erik's smile started to fade. "Or, my friend and I, will have to ask you to leave." When Erik said this he pointed to Lazuli, who slammed his fist into his palm, causing a resounding crack. When the guards looked back at Erik, his toothy, genuine smile was back. "So friends, are we fine?" He asked, putting his hand on Eren's back with a loud slap.

Gorun exchanged common pleasantries with everyone before the ship set sail. On the ship's journey they were given more details about the quest that would be happening. Rather, what Vett wanted to tell them. Gorun could tell with his many years of court experience that they weren't being given the full set of details. The knight decided that asking questions though would get him nowhere.

After a miserable journey on sea, much seasickness, nausea, many prayers for stone, and bouts of incredible loneliness they finally made port. The next piece of news is what surprised the dwarf.

Kailee's end conquered? Why? This move was unusual for sure and would disturb the balance of international power. Knowing things might get bad because of this development, Gorun pulled his hatchet and tower shield from his cart.

The party headed to a tavern immediately, and things went downhill from the start. Some of the conquerors were harassing the waiting girls way too far.

It seemed that several of the members in Vett's party were getting ready to do something about it. Good. Nice to know that my companions won't let this slide. Gorun stood up to join his companions in putting a hopefully peaceful end to this dishonorable conduct.

Out of nowhere some asshole stabbed a soldiers hand into the table without attempting to defuse the situation normally. Jericho also sprung out of thin air, weapon drawn, ready to escalate the combat. The soldiers drew their weapons, preparing to smite these two upstarts.

Thankfully, someone had sense. Erik and Lazuli quickly started doing their best to both solve the problem and end it without making the situation more violent. Gorun took a mental note to thank him about this later. Gravelbeard stepped up next to Jericho, stopping the man from advancing by placing the tower shield in the swashbuckler's path of movement. "Let us not escalate this further. And does anyone know where the closest doctor is for your commrade?" The knight added in the second part as an afterthought to the wounded soldier's screaming.

Over the course of the journey to Kailee’s End, there were two things Aehren busied himself with. The first was typical to his nature. He read the books he brought along, keeping his mind sharp as he told those that asked him. The second was also typical of his nature, but it was not something he would advertise. He observed and took note of everyone around him, creating dossiers for each of them as he chiseled their personalities, background, strengths, and weaknesses into memory. The young wolf always made sure to participate with the group, giving him the opportunity to learn how each one ticked.

It was because of this particular habit that he noticed the discrepancy of the group’s talents. There was no doubt that each one of them was skilled in some form of combat, but it was the secondary skills that most would overlook that took his notice. Erik was a bard, a talented musician with a silver tongue, but Aehren knew plenty of former bards that would later go on to become ambassadors or spymasters of powerful nobles. There was Gravelbeard, the dwarf, and it was obvious what he could do if rumors were true. His reputation in Highwinter was known even to him. Jericho, on the other hand, was your average swashbuckler, and he would have dismissed the man if it was not for the fact that Aehren saw how well he got along with the others and the crew. There was also his boasting of his infallible memory.

“What did it all mean?” Aehren wasn’t sure. Whenever Lady Vekk spoke of the objective of the mission, she didn’t speak in a way that conveyed a hidden meaning. However, it was established Lady Vekk was experienced in many ways. It wouldn’t be a surprise if she was able to spin a web of lies without hesitation. In fact if it was not for the fact that Calwen appeared almost nervous or jittery whenever the topic of the quest was brought up, his suspicion would never have been raised.

Aehren trailed behind his companions as they headed towards the local tavern. He wished they had some sensitivity. They were acting as though the Niratremi were monsters. They were no different from any other nation looking to expand their influence. In fact it was rather clever of Niratrem to isolate Kailee’s End and occupy it without forcing its citizens to withstand a siege. Whoever planned the strategy to capture Kailee’s End had to be applauded, capturing a key city while maintaining their forces without expending too many resources was a grand victory.

He and his companions found a spot in the tavern. Aehren already began scouting entrances and possible exits, documenting each and every single individual that was in the room, and began making strategies on how to exit the place as efficiently as possible if events soured as drunken individuals were wont to do.

However, his good mood dropped upon witnessing several Niratremi soldiers harassing the tavern girls. “Idiots. Aggravating the citizens won’t help with your occupation,” he thought. Before his companions could do anything, another man went and stabbed one of the soldiers. It was another fool that was causing trouble, but Aehren couldn’t help but almost grimace as his companions jumped to do something about this predicament.

Aehren turned to the client and said, “Calwen, follow me if things sour.”

He trusted the others could deal with the soldiers, but Aehren was more determined to ensure that no political fallout came out of this and that their client remains unharmed.

The Wise Trader seemed as if it any moment ready to erupt into violence. The Niratremi soldiers were all standing blood and violence in their hearts swords raised in the defense of their comrade. While some of the wiser patrons slowly made their way to the door, the rest set with careful observing eyes some with hands shifting under tables reaching for weapons as if they could sense the brawl that seemed to have to come. The soldiers with their attention now open the Iron Mountain group did not notice the serving girls slowly backing away though the one that was getting pawed at seemed very afraid and very scared as Eren’s heroics had now gotten Niratremi blood upon her, the barkeep ushering them away into the kitchen while keeping one eye on the growing confrontation. He was unsure of who was worse at this point the soldiers or the mad men rising to confront them.

As Jericho rose and joined in with the rising of his blade tensions escalated once more. The soldiers grinned at the challenge and took one step closer to Eren and the rest of the group. They were beginning to encircle them like a pack of wild dogs coming in for the kill. Though as Gourn and Erik rose to defuse the situation they hesitated. Thier gaze turned from the golem, an ancient war machine designed to kill gods looking not too pleased with them, to the angry dwarven knight and finally their own screaming companion. The uncertainty was apparent in their eyes. Though this reprieve of peace ended quickly as the Niratremi captain slammed his blade into their table embedding it deeply within straightening up his troops quickly as Niratremi discipline kicked in. The captain was a burly man of distinctly Niratremi heritage as you could practically see the barbarian within him: wild eyes, strong muscular build, wind beaten skin from years of hard outside labor and thick coarse black hair that came out from underneath his helmet in direct juxtaposition with the neatly trimmed beard that lined his face. He spoke with the standard drawl of those that lived upon the border with the Imperium in constant conflict: rolling Rs, joined syllables and a voice that come distinctly from somewhere in the front of the mouth. An almost odd mixture between old Niratremi dialect and more current Imperium peasantry dialect a symbol of the geographic location. He gnashed his teeth as he spoke strong in his convictions. “We ur nae friends ay yoors. thaur will be bluid fur bluid.”*

The rest of the soldiers all roared in agreement ignoring any signs of stopping the one closest to Eren lunged out with his blade. Though before more violence could transpire there was a whoosh as a great axe came hurtling down between the two light aflame with celestial fire. Lady Vekk was now standing between Eren and the soldiers as if she had been sent down from the gates of the gods themselves. She looked decidedly angry at the terms of events her eyes fierce and stern and her whole posture meaning business as she brought the great axe back up swinging it in front of her forcing the guards to take another step back. She spoke with a voice of great conviction mixed with a very noticeable undertone of anger as the guards took another step back from the fiery axe their eyes wide with shock as most unless you were of high standing or really needed it rarely got to see primal magic as flashy as what Lady Vekk was doing. The flames generated heat and the skin would burn as if stricken by real flame real but no embers or fires caught place in the wooden tavern as if the fire was contained within the axe itself. ”There will be no blood spilt in this establishment today.I believe you backwater barbarians should listen to my associates here and leave or face the consequences.”

Lady Vekk trying to intimidate them more give her axe another flourish it made a clean arch through the air leaving a quickly dissipating trail of fire behind it. Her eyes glowing red as she channeled the divine right of the Crimson Dragon. The soldiers took another step back speaking amongst themselves in a gurgled and broken language that the halfing could not make heads from tails off as if they were speaking some sort of demonic trance. They continued to point at her and the rest of the group as they seemed to argue amongst themselves. Seemingly aware of her plight Calwen now hiding securely behind Aehren spoke up from his position safely away from the violence. ”They are speaking an old drudic dialect that was common in the western part of their land before the Qalini came in and occupied the area. The dialect still survives though among the peasantry as they had no use to learn Common as the Qalini forced the merchants and the noble classes to do.”

”Thank you for the history lesson Calwen but it would be useful if I knew what they were saying.” Lady Vekk called back sternly her eyes never leaving the guards as she made another circle with the great axe keeping them back.

”Oh yes of course... I’m a little rusty but I believe they are calling you a witch... and they are debating on if they want to try and kill you or not.” Calwen explained still hiding in the back.

”Calwen I need you to tell them to stop acting like shriveling wretches and either leave or die like idiots.” Calwen seemingly flustered mumbled something like a yes as he poked out from behind Aehren and cleared his throat. A moment later he spoke his voice deep and following the same linguistic patterns as the arguing soldiers it was sharp and angry and instantly drew the soldiers attention as they back to face them their eyes drawing from the men in the long robes addressing them to the angry halfling and the rest of her companions. The Captain spoke in common once more addressing them.

”We dornt loch witch folk loch ye. witch folk cest mingin' curses an' spick in devil tongues.”** He spoke angrily as if the very idea of witch folk agitated his very superstitious mind. ”We kill heem an' ye an aw!”*** He yelled suddenly as if he had finally made up his mind and the rest of the soldiers yelled as well charging forward. The group of soldiers charged forward and this time no words could stop them.

_{* We are no friends of yours. There will be blood for blood.
** We don’t like witch folk. Witch folk are cast nasty curses and speak in evil tongues
*** We will kim him and you!}

As the soldiers charged forward, Erik pushed Eren back so he had room to draw his sword in a flash of steel. He blocked the first strike, and punched forward, cracking the man who swung in the mouth, and stepped back from the surging soldiers. "Laz!" he yelled "Be kind! Leave enough to bury!"

Erik cut a man across his stomach, and drew his long knife, and buried it in his shoulder. He kicked him in his cut stomach, sending the man reeling, and making a mental note to retrieve his knife before they left.

Lazuli cracked his hands together when he heard Erik's request. A simple one, and he'd honor it. Two brave and drunk soldiers separated from the group to fight him. He back handed one, and sent the body flying like a ragdoll into the wall, most of the bones in his body broken. The other man looked at his dead comrade and ducked back into the makeshift line of his soldiers, where there was some safety in numbers.

The dwarf listened as the captain decided to escalate the fight. Please Stone, let no one be lost. These men have families too. The knight prepared to carry out the fight in a non-lethal manner.

Suddenly a body slammed into the tavern wall. Gorun saw the golem pound a man to death. At that point, Gorun knew that there was no way a peaceful ending could occur. To put it quite simply, allowing the soldiers to live would mean that they could raise an alarm. Gorun lept from in front of Jericho to the line of the opposing group, covering himself with his tower shield.

"Hey, you four fools! Stop looking pretty and fight me!" The knight met the enemy line, trying to taunt them into attacking him. If it worked, it would mean that Gorun could block shots and distract while his allies killed off the rest. Gorun could handle up to six if he took guardian stance and fought in a purely defensive fashion. However, his opponents were wary from the golem and could try to retreat.

The Niratremi soldiers advanced, swords raised, a few rapidly closing the distance between them and the young pirate. Sabine waved to and fro, but the blade's dance was truly nothing more than a show – a distraction to mask Jericho's movement. Jericho had the layout of The Wise Trader burned into his mind, and one specific point drew his focus. Just on the opposite side of the table vacated by the group of soldiers moments ago was a fireplace with a brick bench extending from the surround and mantle. A young couple previously sitting and talking there – a bearded man and pretty, dark skinned girl – had fled the building at the first signs of violence. What was left was no longer a bench, but instead a tool, begging to be used by the raging combatants.

Standing well under 6 feet tall and only lightly armored, the young man knew that he couldn't overpower any of the guards, and he was even less likely to do so when facing multiple men simultaneously. By moving around and over obstacles, Jericho could not only avoid attacks, but also utilize any bits of scenery for leverage or even as makeshift weapons. The brick bench and fireplace were perfect for both of those objectives.

With adrenaline coursing through his entire body, the swashbuckling youth's instincts guided Jericho through each subsequent action. Leap over the bench, parry and spin left, continue the rotation with a backhand from Sabine, jump backwards to dodge, suffer a shallow cut in the thigh, fight through, drop to one knee and slice at a hamstring. The only things he could think about were his pounding heartbeat and the fact that he wasn't dead yet.

After moments, the bricks below them were spattered sporadically with blood, some from Jericho but more from the two soldiers trying to carve up the nimble fighter – one of them already laboring from a downward cut over the guard's cuirass. After parrying one guard's sword, the pirate lunged, putting all of his weight – in an elevated position from on top the bench – behind his rapier. The sword slid into soft flesh of the guard's hip just to the left of the groin, underneath the man's cuisse. A howl of pain rang through the tavern and the man crumpled to the ground, but Jericho's brash attack had left him vulnerable.

At that moment, the captain of the guards attacked, slashing sword looking to gut Jericho's prone torso. The man was huge and powerful, the exact caricature of a Niratremi brute. The muscles of his arm visibly tensed behind the slash, and his face was a sign of rage with eyes wide and upper lip curled into a fierce snarl. The pirate arched his back, trying to suck in as much of his defenseless stomach as possible. Realizing that he wouldn't be able to sufficiently avoid the blade, Jericho resorted to slamming his left arm down, heavy guard clattering against the sword. He followed through into the bench, trapping the sword and stopping the threat but nearly breaking his arm in two. Waves of nausea rose up into his blanching head, and his instinctive thrust – rapier grazing the captain's neck – nearly caused him to collapse. With his arm hanging limp at his side, the injured swashbuckler stumbled through the gap left by the first fallen guards towards an overturned table. The young man leapt the length of the table and agilely skidded to a stop and momentary safety.

Unable to grasp anything in his left hand, but not wanting to face this monster left handed, Jericho pulled a dagger out of his belt and slid the hilt into the strap of leather from his arm guard covering his palm. It wasn't the tightest of fits, but it would have to do. Before he could reenter the fray, the table exploded and a heavy object connected solidly with the young man's back. He spun with the impact, landing on his buttock to see the captain thrashing about with his foot cleanly through the table. If Jericho waited to think about what he was doing, he would surely decide better of his actions. As it was, the pirate launched himself at the captain before he could realize what this injured madman was doing. Swords clashed, knee connected with face, and both men were quickly sprawled across the ground. Sabine slid across the floor, but, luckily, so too did the captain's sword. Jericho stabbed down with the dagger in his left hand, but his arm was caught by the captain, meaty hand clutching a throbbing forearm. Pain renewed nearly caused Jericho's body to go completely limp.

With his last fleeting instances of consciousness, Jericho noticed that the guard's block had been entirely down to luck, for there was no way he could have actually seen the attack coming. The smaller man's knee had connected solidly on the guard's nose with blood freely running across his face obscuring his vision. In a last ditch effort to avoid letting this burly savage rip his arm off, Jericho slammed down with his head into the guard's face. The first headbutt sent a gruesome shower of blood – from both combatants – through the air. A second impact, a sickening pop, and the world went dark.

“What a superstitious lot,” Aehren thought as he observed Lady Vekk attempt to intimidate the soldiers into standing down. It was wrong of her to have showcased her less-than-mundane abilities, but he couldn’t fault her for believing it would cow them. Unfortunately, he knew the Niratremi quite well—especially the commoners hailing from the region he called home.

These men before him were an uneducated lot, but they were strong, hardy men. One had to be solidly built if you wanted to survive the western marches. The soldiers appeared they were no longer going to back down. There was no escaping a battle. He refrained from glaring at the drunkard that started all this.

Immediately, Aehren began to calculate how they were going to get out of this mess. Considering that the city was occupied by soldiers, the best way to go about things was to ensure that none of the soldiers were killed. That way they can claim that it was just a drunken brawl and—the golem just killed a man with a swipe of its arm.

It was good that Aehren was a patient man.

Patrons of the tavern that were still present quickly started leaving. He couldn’t blame them. When people started getting killed it was best to leave the vicinity immediately. These people would know what he and the rest of his group would look like. They were rather distinct, after all. How could they escape this mess?

“Kill every soldier but the captain,” he announced to his comrades. Though he didn’t raise the volume of his voice much, he prided himself in speaking with an authority that befitted a person of his station. “We can still salvage this.”

Aehren stood up and used the ensuing chaos to slink away unnoticed (though he left advice for Calwen to hide under a table before parting). It would not do for them to draw any more attention. He made his way to the front of the tavern and stood just outside it. For now he would keep a lookout for any patrols or other soldiers that may come.

All that was left to do was place his trust that his companions would be sensible and follow his suggestion. It would be a shame if they didn’t. That would just mean he would be looking only after himself and the client afterwards.

The cacophony of violence began with a sudden and abrupt start as what had become a minor confrontation erupted into a full bar brawl. The drunken sailors and mercenaries at the tables took to the call of violence in a quick and swift fashion striking out against their occupiers and one another, bottles and fist began to fly on all sides as chaos quickly consumed the Wise Trader. The quick response of Erik and Lazuli shocked the group of Niratremi who moved back from the angry golem and the angry golem's friend, the angry dwarf launching challenges did not help the manner as a dwarven knight was not somebody you took without too much matter a knife was thrown from the group of soldiers at Gorun but it was sloppy and moved slow enough so that the knight could easily move out of the way or deflect it. They moved about one another pushing forward and backwards circling cautious of the golem and the angry dwarf. The sudden and brutal interjection of Jericho changed all of that as his brutal interceed of blows with the captain broke any sign of reservation in the guards as they charged in full force at the group.

Anzira cursed under her breath as the guards came at them, Eren to her right and Erik and Lazuli to her left with Gorun close behind with Jericho on the ground with the captain close in hand. She had hoped that things could have been resolved peacefully but of course things were never that easy. While they were superstitious and seemingly backwater in their mannerisms Niratremi soldiers were still a force to reckoned with there was a reason the Niratremi's territorial conquest usually end in favor of the empire. The halfing swung her axe in a clean arc connecting with the first soldier that came at her, the soldier was quick though and raised his shield up into the air catching the fiery blade before it could rip through him though the sheer force of the impact was still enough to send him teetering to the floor scrambling to get back up. She heard a strangled grunt next to her and quickly turned to see Eren a sword through his stomach the Niratremi having used the chaos of the turbulent tavern to slip under his guard. Anzira reacted quickly striking out with the pommel of her great axe into the side of the men's face there was sickening crunch as the man stumbled backwards ripping his sword out of Eren's gut shredding his insides as he did and they both collapsed to the ground. Anzira ducked as a stray flagon almost took her head off thrown from one of the many other bar fights now taking place around them. She had damn well hoped that Calwen was still hiding under his table.

Percival Calwen was hiding under his table muttering every ancient prayer he had learned in his years of study hoping at least one god would piety him today. Calwen was not a fighter he was a scholar and violence only took away from his studies and so hiding always seemed like the best option. Yet it would seem that the gods had no time to pay attention to a lonely scribe stuck under a table. Calwen watched as footsteps approached his location and as he shrunk back the table was lifted up and tossed aside smashing into another patron. Looking down at him was a sailor bald headed and with a large beard grinning down at the little man with the devils intent in his eyes. But the sailor soon learned the difference between not preferring violence and not knowing how to defend one's self. Calwen concentrated on the soldier and lifted his hands up into the air and the air crackled with arcane energy as a concussive blast came forth from his hands slamming into the chest of the sailor and sending him crashing into the ceiling with a solid thump before he came crashing to the ground unconscious. Calwen rose to his feet his legs shaking as the magical energy circled around his hands sparking and fluttering making any man who dared approach him think twice.

As quickly as the violence had erupted it soon ended as a tussle n was heard outside with much shouting as Aehren came back to warn of an approaching group. From the entrance came a group of four soldiers all dressed in heavy plate mail marched into the tavern the Niratrem seal embolized upon their chest. The room quieted and the violence stopped as they entered, the remaining foot soldiers practically quaking in their boots. Tuese men were not common foot soldiers, no they were knights of the empire, these men were Gallants. The lead man shouted a command and he and the three other knights shouted pulling into a tight salute as a fifth man entered the room. He looked distinctly different from the rest his armor instead of standard grey was a stark and bright white the Niratrem seal shining blood red in color. He had no helmet let the other gallants revealing a perfectly clean shaven head and long tightly trimmed red beard having distinctly dwarven facial features probably having a dwarven relative not too far up his family tree despite his own towering height. The foot soldiers automatically saluted as they saw the man who quickly marched over to them pushing his way through the slack jawed drunken brawlers. One of the foot soldiers spoke up his voice quaking and trembling trying to articulate every word precisely. "Lord Gallant Caine! Sir!"

"Soldier do you mind telling me what in the emperor's name is going on here?" The Lord Gallant spoke in a authoritative tone of a man fit to command armies. He spoke without the distinctive drawl of his soldiers his words more refined and crisp common of those born and raised in the Eastern portion of the Empire. His eyes were angry as they seemed to bore into the soldier still quaking in his boots. The foot soldier spoke up once more muffling his regional accent in the face of this much higher ranking man.

"We were just minding our own business here and then some bloody lunatict stabbed Goffery over there.... and then this group of forsaken devils with their witch tried to kill us!" He explained gesturing from the Niratremi soldier clutching his hand and than to Lady Vekk and the rest of the Iron Mountain Group. Caine turned from his own men to look upon the group rising an eyebrow as he examined them.

"You there halfling you seem to be the once in charge here. Is what my men say here true?" He asked Lady Vekk still clutching her axe and coated in fresh Niratremi blood who looked back at him with her own icey stare as the two locked eyes in a battle of wills.

"First I'm no witch.. I'm a Paladin of the Crimson Dragon and secondly My fellows and I were only trying to prevent more violence from breaking out when your men decided to charge at us. We only acted in self defense." Anzira explained her eyes never leaving the Lord Gallant, her voice strong and filled with conviction. The lord gallant listened to her and nodded to himself.

"I believe you, You have the warrior's spirit about you. And yet that does not excuse you for attacking soldiers of the Empire. What is your purpose here in this city." He explained his voice stern.

"We are mercenaries, we protect the merchant ships coming through the Hollow Sea from brigands and pirates. Our contract had just expired and so we came here to this tavern to seek passage away." Anzria explained her voice never changing even as she told a lie albit a reasonable one at least mercenaries did populate the trade ships all the time as pirates were a real problem.

"Hmm I see. Well in that case as long as you take the next ship heading out there will be no problems and I apologize for my men's behavior." He explained calmly and Anzria nodded giving a curt bow of gratitude. The Lord Gallant ushered his men about who took the dead corpses of their fallen and the unconscious captain and ushered them out of the building quickly. As the gallants made to leave Lord Gallant Caine looked back towards them and spoke a final warning. "But if I see you again in my city. You will all be killed."

Lady Vekk shook her head as she looked over the scene around here. The occupants had calmed down and were starting to clean up the place putting tables back where they belonged and cleaning up the mess. The unconscious body of Jericho still lay face first on the ground with Eren's lifeless body next to him having bled out from the stab wound. It was such a senseless waste of human life and yet here they were. After making arrangements with the innkeeper who was very grateful for them to have stepped in the defense of his daughter to dump the body into the sea, they managed to rent the sleeping quarters above and moved Jericho upstairs to heal him properly. Calwen began fussing over the body using magical energies to reshape the face that had be busted in to bring down the swelling and mend the bone, he couldn't take away the pain but he would be able to at least fix it back to normal at least but he would still have a nasty headache when he awoke. As Calwen performed minor magical miracles the rest set up for the night on either the floor or the three beds that were in the room. Lady Vekk polished her axe in silence for some time before she finally spoke.

"So our first night in town and we pissed off the local authority, got into a bar brawl and was just told by the leader of the Nitraem Occupation a Lord Gallant at that that if he sees our face again that we are going to get executed. The Niratemi shouldn't even be here this is... or was a free city. Guess it was just another thing to add to the cluster fuck." She explained sighing waiting for any other helpful opinions that the others may have on the situation watching as Calwen attended to Jericho who he had carefully shoved a piece of cloth in his mouth so when he awoke he would not bite his tongue off due to the pain of his face being magically reconstructed and put back together."

Erik parried a blow, and grabbed the man's sword arm by the wrist, yanking him down into a knee to the face, knocking the man out cold. He turned to see Eren catch a blade to the stomach, and reached forward, grabbing him by the shoulder. Erik tried to pulled the man upright, but he was already deadweight and likely short for the world. Erik released him and ducked back from a wide swing as the Knights stepped through the door. Erik stepped backwards from the rank and file soldiers to put distance between him, them, and the newcomers. He didn't expect the diplomacy to follow.

Once the problem was sorted out, and the knights and soldiers left Erik looked up at Lazuli. "I think we could have handled them." The golem looked down at him, and shrugged. Erik helped clean up the first floor as Jericho and the Wizard went upstairs to heal his wounds. Once finished up, Erik went upstairs, leaving Lazuli on the first floor. They were unsure if the second floor could support his weight.

Erik watched the magic at work, and listened to their leader talk. "Well, its simple. Our options are pretty cut and dry." Erik said. "We take a boat outta here, sorry about your luck chuck. We sneak out. Or we try to fight our way through an army and make a lot of enemies." Erik scratched his face. "Or we could charter a boat, and have it drop us off further up the coast or some such thing. But can we afford it?"

The dwarf let the knife bounce off his plate. Didn't these idiots know that throwing knives couldn't pierce even chainmail? The soldiers then started to try and surround the three mercenaries. He trusted that the Golem and Erik could handle their side. Looking again at his opponents, he saw that fear had crossed into their eyes along with the zealotry from earlier.

Gorun honestly felt a bit sorry for the lads. They were probably fresh off the training field and were feeling a bit cocky with their easy victory. Gravelbeard sighed. Long ago, he would have reveled in the slaughter. But now he was older. He knew these men were probably conscripted off farms to fight in a war they weren't really interested in. They had families to return to.

Now that Gorun looked around, he saw that the rest of the bar had broken out into battle. Gorun looked to his left, suddenly breaking out into a sprint at one of the soldiers and shoving him against the wall with his tower shield. Pinned against the wall and unable to move his arms, the opponent was in a position to be finished. Terror crossed into the eyes of the Southerner as Gorun readied to swing his axe.

Then he heard Aehren shout a warning. Gorun's training in the dwarvern pits taught him to listen to the voice of a comrade even in the midst of battle. Something about people approaching the bar...

Suddenly all the combat stopped. Gorun looked behind himself and saw that Nitrami knights had entered the bar.
Those aren't normal knights... they are Gallants. The dwarvern knight quickly dropped the soldier pinned against the wall. After a quick conversation, it seemed the Gallants simply gave Gorun's party a free pass. I know I should feel relieved, but isn't it a little sad to know that they didn't really care that we killed their troops?

The party aided in cleaning up the tavern and headed upstairs. While annoyed at having to do a servant's work, the dwarf recognized it as the least they could do after causing so much chaos.

The group sat in the room. Anzira polished her axe, appearing to be seeking distraction. It was similar to Maruna's expression when she was frustrated with cooking, but trying not to show it. The older man smiled as he thought about how two wildly different situations could produce the same emotion.

Eventually, Anzira summarized the basic situation and waited for opinions. Erik stated the obvious ones, none of which were good. One costed money and moved them away from their destination. The other ones required more luck than the dwarf was comfortable dealing with.

Gorun shook his head at Erik. "If we were anywhere else but the free cities, those could be our only options. But I've lived in this ... nation ... for a few years and understand the ropes." This is where a multicultural party came in handy. Gorun had an additional card to play. Although sometimes having different people could cause tensions in the group, it could also create solutions.

"The free cities have historically had varied populations and lax laws. That means there are dwarves who can make tunnels and goverment employees who can be bribed to not close them off." Surface dwarves understood that even the most impenetrable mountain hall would eventually fall. The nobledwarf and many others had created easily collapsible escape routes for times like these. Gorun could easily find a dwarf, do some enchanting work for them in exchange for access, and leave the city. "If you want, I can easily get a route out of here for us within three hours."

The street was devoid of people—the commotion going inside the tavern saw to that. However, the fact that it was almost completely empty gave him pause. There should have been at least a few onlookers who wanted to watch the spectacle unfolding. This spoke volumes about the current state of the city. Aehren had no doubt that his home country was enforcing strict rules upon the population to keep order, but that was not his main concern. There were several types of commanders that can inspire such dread onto an occupied populace, but the worst ones were commanders that were deliberately cruel.

The young wolf slipped into the alley next to the tavern, casually leaning against the wall of the building adjutant to it. His ears picked up a myriad of noises. There were a few strays sniffing around for a meal, distant shouts and yells and other conversations from across the city, and other insignificant sounds that was common in a city. However, it was the heavy footsteps that were coming closer that caught his attention. He heard metal scraping against metal, metal stomping on dirt and stone.

Aehren peered out of his place in the shadows and his eyes fell upon a group of men that he recognized instantly. He was no stranger to the Gallants of Niratrem after all. He considered his options, but he immediately dismissed abandoning his companions. A Nohr was no coward, not even a crafty one like him. Slipping into the tavern without drawing attention was child’s play and he quickly warned the others of the Gallants. However, he immediately maneuvered into positioning himself with the tavern owner and his daughter. There was no need to show he had ties to his Iron Mountain comrades.

What came next was interesting. Lady Vekk and the Lord Gallant were able to reach an accord. He considered their words, picking them apart, and was content with the terms. Though he was a bit put-off by the lie Lady Vekk had used. She made it sound as though going by ship was their only option. That would not do.

After the commotion died, there was nothing left to do but clean up. As the others went upstairs to lick their wounds and rest after what occurred, Aehren decided he would inspect the corpse of Eren. There was something about him that looked familiar. He looked at the belongings of the deceased man and upon inspecting the sword he had carried Aehren knew immediately who this man was. It was none other than Eren the Lost Dragon, a claimant to the Niratremi throne.

“Innkeeper,” Aehren called out to the portly man. “Instead of dumping him into the sea, can I have you take him to the undertaker instead? He needs to be embalmed”

The innkeeper looked hesitant at the prospect, but a simple payment of a few coins convinced the man. Before making way upstairs, Aehren took Oathkeeper and the two pistols Eren kept. Lazuli, the golem, was present, but Aehren was not concerned about countermanding Lady Vekk’s orders.

Aehren entered just as Lady Vekk was summarizing the events. Remaining silent, he made his way to the window and took his place on the chair beside it. He was always more comfortable sitting in a place where he could watch every entrance of the room. He listened as the others made their own remarks, frowning in disapproval at Erik’s blithe words but his ears twitching in interest when he heard Sir Gravelbeard’s suggestion.

“We’re thinking like criminals.” He stopped and began gauging the reaction of each person that was present. Once he was sure he had their attention, Aehren decided to expand his words further, “You all committed no crimes, a fact that a Lord Gallant vocally admitted to in front of a large audience. All he wants from the perpetrators of his men’s death is their leave.”

Aehren then presented Oathkeeper to his companions. “This is the blade our dead comrade had. Interestingly, he was Eren the Lost Dragon, a claimant to the Niratremi throne. Though unfortunate, his death means a boon to the mission. If Niratrem gives us any more trouble, we can simply present this sword and his head to any man in charge. He does have a longstanding bounty in the empire. We can reap rewards from it.

“Also, on the subject of leaving, I have a simple solution. We can just leave through the gates that will lead to the mission’s next destination. As the heir to House Nohr of Wolfsworn, my family and its reputation can be used to ensure your safety. After all, I can simply just say that after witnessing your talents in the tavern, I hired you all as bodyguards for my journey back home. A little further north from the destination is my home, you know. Though I admit it would be best to have Sir Gravelbeard’s plan as a backup in case things go awry.”

After finishing what may have been the longest thing he had ever since meeting everyone, Aehren smirked rather cunningly at his compatriots. He always was eager to show off his talents to others.