[center] Daggers in the night make for quieter screams 
-	An unknown Durandal general 

[/center]

[hr]
The news of the stranger being an enemy of the Duke wasn’t exactly surprising to the executioner. It had been a hundred ways 

“ You’re not the only one these days,” Ogar groused as he poked the fire with the stick, watching her taking another bite of the pike. The night had now darkened past purple into a black curtain of stars and clouds and the glow of the fire illuminated the thinness of her figure. He’d seen starving soldiers before and she looked a quarter-way to contemplating human flesh for rations already. There was something that bubbled in Ogar’s heart, a pull to her akin to when you looked at another person drenched in rainfall as you were. Perhaps, he ought to - 

[i]Take her back to camp? Then, what, you fool? Another mouth to feed, another body in the grave? Why take one more risk? 
[/i]

The curtain of night had fully set now and the Thousand Fires bloomed in the sky like candlelights at a congregation. Ogar signed and walked over the fire, kneeling down to sweep ashes over it. 

“We ought to take rest now. We can sit up in the trees. Keep the leeches from - ”

Ogar’s warning was cut short as he saw a flash of steel – [i]crossbowman[/i] – in the bushes across the side of the river. He pulled up his axe and raised it towards Estelle - 

[hr]

The brutish oaf looked even uglier from here.

 Yuren licked the wind, the salt of it, and he knew its taste was just right now. Now, he just needed the smell of iron from a good bolt to complete it. The wind stilled and Yuren took the chance. His finger pressed down on the trigger, the string releasing all of its taut energy in a loud snap. 

[hr]

-And threw it over the shoulder. The axe spun like a child’s dreidel, head twirling over handle. It passed by Estelle’s shoulder and it hit the bolt. He meant to smash it part. It was an old trick that served him well in the Lutin Wars. However, luck had other ideas. Instead of being splintered in half, the bolt deflected off the castle-forged steel and sunk into the upper right breast of his chest.
  
“ Shit.” Ogar kicked the ashes over the fire a moment later, scattering the smoke up. His eyes watered as the black fog drifted over the river water. The stinging was a low price to pay for obscure the crossbowman’s sight. “ Ambush. Got to get back to my camp. Safe there.” 
A hot lance of pain ripped through his shoulder. Ogar leaned against the side of the tree, face shrouded in pain. The howling of the wylderbeasts split the night silence. His pain-addled mind swam with thoughts of who it could have been. 

“ Think I need your help to carry me….Don’t know how much longer I’ve got.”  A glob of blood drooled out from the corner of his mouth. “ Bolt must have been poisoned….”
 
[hr] 
[i]The Thousand Flames[/i] – A constellation common during Durandelle summers. Commonly appears during times of warfare or great ucertainty. 

[i]The Lutin Wars[/i] – A series of civil wars between the Lutin Nation of Skofnung and the four great blade kingdoms. Each of them ended in temporary stalemates.