PrinceOfHeaven

To Meddle in the Affairs of Dragons

Allen and the samothauress he had briefly met earlier that day navigated the narrow back-streets of Viarosa, steadily making their way towards the city's keep. After Ser Aquila and his eastern friend's arrest, Allen ran back to the hostel to retrieve the only other order member he knew. Luckily, it appeared that she knew exactly what to do. Kinara led, with long and purposeful strides; she seemed to pay no attention to her surroundings, totally absorbed by her thoughts. Allen practically had to jog to keep pace with her. He wondered how she knew the way in such a big city, or if she did at all. Having been raised in relative isolation, Allen wasn't used to being surrounded by buildings, or navigating such confusing roads. He'd gotten lost several times while looking for Ser Aquila, despite the samothauress's directions.

Eventually the pair came to a space between buildings, a fountain for the city's poor to draw water from tucked in a corner of the small plaza. Kinara made as if to keep going, intending to get to the city centre as fast as possible.

"'scuse... Excuse me, Miss Kinara?" Allen panted, his hands on his knees. "Is it alright if we take a little break here?"

"It can't be that much further. If Lucian was arrested with Nima, I fear they would have brought him before the Vilveres," Kinara replied, continuing to speedwalk despite the boy's protest. "If we don't hurry to the keep now, th-they'll-"

"Please Miss Kinara? We've been walking for hours. Plus," Allen added, standing up straight with a smile on his face "if Ser Aquila is as tough as my Maç told me than I'm sure that we have nothing to worry about. He certainly didn't seem worried when they arrested him."

Kinara slowly came to a standstill, raising her fingers up to press into her temples. She did not appear to be angered with the boy, and yet there was a palpable and thick aura of tension around her, were he to draw nearer to her. She weakly nodded to Allen, gradually sinking to her knees, leaning against the stone wall of the closest building -- a small bakery, by the look of the wooden sign overhead.

"I have lived to see what the Vilvere is capable of," she muttered. "They have slain dragons without hesitation for no other reason than that they were dragons. They have skirmished with our Order, found an excuse to make war with us for what they call heresy; they slander us before the Divine Sees and the nobility of these kingdoms. And they devour it as if it were a suckling pig. Hence, in this ancient and accursed city, the debased cretins calling themselves highborne make a show of their 'love' for the Gods they would sell for a room flooded with aurums, and along with the Vilveres, they oppress and harass Aquilans whensoever they chance upon the opportunity." By now, she was speaking with particularly viscous venom in her voice...

Allen sat down and stared quietly at Kinara while she spoke, absentmindedly fidgeting with the ring on his finger. He knew who the Vilvere were, but only so much as to know they were extremely secretive and that they hunted dragons. Allen didn't fully understand why the samothauress was so incensed, but he knew better than to ask right away. The pair passed some minutes in silence before he spoke up.

"My Maç said that there're plenty of Holy Orders that don't get along with the Aquilans. Do you despise them all as you do the Vilveres?"

"We are reviled because we believe our Lord of Light to have had a son by a mortal woman he loved, whom he translated into Heaven, and apotheosized. Not every Holy Order belonging to those who proclaim orthodoxy actively persecute us. I cannot say I consider them to be enemies. But the Vilveres. In Rosiland the Vilveres defend those coal-skinned, slavekeeping monsters. To their credit their defense of slavery is not direct, and they do not guard estates, yet they have made war with us on behalf of the nobility, and so defend it by proxy. That cannot be forgiven. Not by myself, not yet. For in Rosiland, slaves are beneath the cattle -- taken from good lives by manstealers, and disciplined by beatings, by starvation, and by far more malicious violation of the mind and body. They are not like the handservants of Aesernia or Tarraconia, treated at least as men and elves. Not even as the eunuchs in Marrakech, Cathion, and Sepsouten, seen as loyal and trustworthy. As animals," she explained. She was visibly shivering as she digressed on the subject of Rosilandic slavery, her fists clenching tight.

She looked up at Allen with a stern grimace, though not one that seemed to be directed towards him. "No, I do not feel hate towards the other Orders within 'orthodoxy.' They have done right by their beliefs, and have not compromised themselves the way the Vilveres have. Were they any worse than what they are, one would not be in the wrong for mistaking them for a fringe movement of Radicalist heretics, as the Order of Witch Hunters are considered."

Allen examined the samothauress carefully while she spoke; he noticed the fire in her voice and her aggressive stance, yet there was pain in her eyes. He dropped his gaze to the cobblestones in front of him. "You were a slave." His words barely a whisper, still they seemed to echo off the walls of the buildings surrounding them.

Kinara did not immediately reply, raising a hand to cover her face as she let off a deep sigh. Taking a moment to cool off, the faintest of smiles tugged at the corner of her lips as she steadily sat up straight. "You're more perceptive than most, I have to admit. Most outside the order assume that I am merely a passionate abolitionist, when I do speak of Rosiland," she finally replied. "But, I am curious. How exactly did you put that together?"

Allen looked up again, relieved to see that Kinara wasn't angry, and that she was even smiling a bit. Pleased that his assumption had been correct, a small smirk came to his face, before he remembered the seriousness of the subject at hand. "You're passionate to be sure, but your eyes - they know too much, they've seen firsthand the horrors of which you spoke." He cocked his head to the side slightly. "My next guess would have been that you had friends and family who were taken as slaves, or perhaps children."

The samothauress slowly shook her head, pulling her knees up to her chest and adjusting her position against the wall, staring dolefully down the street. "No, I haven't any children, nor am I married -- there isn't anybody of my kind and faith. Nobody who would feel the same," she replied. "I was taken as a child, along with my mother and father. And years of agony and futility in Shadow Elven fields went by before the Order raided Kylesha. Lucian himself was among them, and it was he who rescued me and brought me into the fold. I owe him everything. My service in the Order is the least I can give."

"Let's go get him then," Allen rose to his feet and walked towards the wall, offering his hand to Kinara.. "I feel plenty rested now."

Seeing the boy was ready to continue, she reached up to clasp his hand and rose to her hooves. "Then onwards, the Keep should not be far from us," she said. She gestured straightaways down the street they were walking, and started off on her way with Allen in tow.

However, just as she had picked her pace back up into a light jog, a familiar voice cried out to her. "Kinara! You need not worry, for we are safe and free!" Stopping in her tracks and turning to the source of the voice, she sighted Lucian, with the others in tow (plus a few additions she did not immediately recognize). Almost right away, however, she noticed that the paladin was much the worse for wear, his tabard and face covered in grime. Seeming to forget Allen's presence, she hastened to her Grandmaster, her expression filled with dread.

"Lucian! What did they do?!" she exclaimed, clasping the sides of his face, "What did the Vilveres do to you?" she repeated. She frantically started looking his features over for any cuts, bruises, or other unnatural blemishes, picking at his matted, muddied beard and hair as she searched for any. more subtle, head wounds, or for some trace of blood or other dried fluid.

Lucian smiled warmly, chuckling as he reached to put Kinara's hands away from his face and back down to her sides. Locking eyes with the slightly taller samothauress, he could see a particular fear in her that he knew well. And so he spoke calmly, and didn't yet release her fidgeting hands. "I am not wounded, and this dirt is from my attempt to help the slave-soldier heal properly. You know how the Easterners can be about medicine and restoration magics. I tell you, it was a mighty struggle to capture the sacrificial rodent," he jested. "I am unharmed, though apprehended on false charges of arson and blasphemy. The godless own this city, and so what to them is blasphemy is anything that should discomfort their own sensibilities, but this is besides the point," he explained. "The Chevaleresse-Lieutenant was more than sensible, and has agreed to dedicate forces towards investigating the matter of Htraknu." He saw her expression change from one of dread to one more mixed; confused and angry would be simple and precise.

"I dedicated myself," Angela corrected him, her voice giving away her frustration. "I can't give you anything else."
Angela was clad in armour more befitting a knight now, instead of the robes or light armour she wore beforehand. In addition to her padded blue and steel tabard, she protected her arms and upper torso with darkened steel plate armour while a set of dark tassets protected her thighs. Finally, a pair of solid leather boots and steel greaves protected everything below both her knees.
She carried her dragon-skull helmet under her arm; red and black plumage erupted from the back of it, reminding many who saw it of Aesernian commanders way back in the Empire's heyday. In its place, a small, chequered shawl was wrapped around her head. Its ends were tattered and torn from what looked like years of use.

"So." she began again, looking up at the Samothaur with disdain. She was at least seven inches shorter than Kinara, though she didn't seem to be bothered by that fact. "You're another heretic in 'the Grandmaster's' band?" Angela scoffed. "They really are scraping the barrel, it seems."

"If someone who could drill an arrow between your eyes before your sword cleared leather is considered 'scraping the barrel,' then yes. And that doesn't even begin to describe what his other Apostles could do," Sorano remarked. "Or what he is capable of, for that matter. Do not test the Son of Your--"

"That will be enough Sorano. The last time Kinara was underestimated, she proved she could more than carry her weight in Tiraști. Heaven forbid we battle another horde of Infernum spawn, but I suspect the Vilvere will come around," Lucian replied. He released Kinara's hands and waved the Sun Elf away, before gesturing to the Knight Vilvere. "Chevaleresse-Lieutenant Angela Kõivli. She will be accompanying us to the North, where we will hopefully recover Bjorn, or whatever the man left behind."

Angela chose to avoid escalating their argument; while she despised everything these heretics stood for, there was little point antagonising her allies further. At least for now. As she was introduced, she gave those around her a small nod. Those who weren't part of the Knights Solanian, anyhow. "So, he was one of the survivors from Krossavik..." Angela felt as though she'd been stabbed in the gut every time she even thought of that attack.

"Indeed. One of three, and the most knowledgeable on Htraknu. Which is why it is imperative that we locate him or his remaining notes and accounts. If Htraknu is hunting for the means of slaying Shaituns and Gods, surely Bjorn would know where objects of such power exist, or how to locate them if he doesn't already have a location," Sorano replied.

"I've been into the Spine before." Angela added. "If that's truly where this Bjorn was, I suggest we only bring a small number of us." In her mind, that suggestion made sense - there would be fewer mouths to feed and it would be easier for them to remain hidden. "The others who stay behind can help in other ways, gathering the support of local towns."

"I have already sent forth calls to arms to the nobility and royalty of the Western Kingdoms. Many of whom are past clients of the Order's monster and bounty hunting services," Lucian replied. "And I have already committed the Order's full might to investigating Htraknu's activities and gathering support. I believe that the influence campaign will therefore work itself out. What we need to do is attempt to beat Htraknu at his own game. As Sorano stated, primordial and otherwise legendary objects of power clearly exist with the capability of stealing into the realms of the Gods and Shaituns. We must secure them before the Father of Dragons can claim them for himself."

"A truly flawless plan," Gottmar finally grunted, pushing his way through the group to confront Lucian, his ever-present glare intensifying. "Certainly, we should not seek out and destroy our actual enemy - let us chase after trinkets and curios instead!" He shook his head in disgust, turning away from the knight. "Every moment we spend listening to this heretic brings us closer to defeat. We find the dragon, and we hit it until it dies. A simple method, but a proven one."

"Do you not think the Vilvere Order has already tried that?" Angela sighed. "As much as I despise this heretic, he has a point - another dead god is bad news for us. Besides, all you'll accomplish is your own death. You're no good to me dead..." The knight slowed down her speaking and rubbed her forehead; she could feel a headache coming on. Maybe Gottmar's statement was more stupid that she thought.

The Apostles and their Grandmaster appeared equally befuddled by Gottmar's plan of action, with Sorano seeming visibly offended by it. As Lucian was about to speak, he fell silent, and glanced away, raising a hand to the side of his head. "...the Lady of Schemes," he mumbled under his breath. "Were we to follow the Witch Hunter... the Godslayer now would merely outsmart us before we had time to strike." The paladin spoke lowly, staring at nothing in particular. He turned mournfully to Angela and inquired, "Do you feel as I do?"

Angela could only mumble as she nursed her head; it suddenly felt heavy, as though her skull had turned into a one-tonne weight. Finally, she managed to eke out a grumbled reply. "Of course I do, you profligate."

"So much for 'hitting it until it's dead,'" Lucian retorted, glaring at Gottmar as he stepped forwards and turned to the rest of the group. "We retrieve the Krossavikers and leave Viarosa as soon as we have our equipment and supplies together. We go together to retrieve Bjorn, or what he left behind. And when we have leads and means to delay Htraknu's ascent to power, we will split into two teams accordingly - one to pursue Htraknu, and one to safeguard or destroy the means of slaying more important deities, namely those of the Pantheon. I will send correspondence to my Apostles who are not with this party to update them on what to expect, and how to proceed."

As Angela began to reply, Athaliah broke her silence. "We should have both groups looking for artefacts, Lucian." Angela stared at her through narrowed eyes, shocked that anyone would have the gall to interrupt her. "If one team happens to find that dragon, they will die. Do you understand?"

"The Hoffenite is correct on that count, Grandmaster," Sorano replied, "While I can see the good you had in mind by keeping tabs on the monster, I do not think he actually knows we are actively opposing him in this way. Were we to give ourselves away..."

Lucian mulled over Athaliah and Sorano's input, pursing his lips and idly rubbing his chin. "A good catch, Athaliah. The death of Latemis only makes him a strategist, not omniscient. Wherefore Sorano makes an excellent case. If he does not know about us, we have the element of surprise -- the one thing that would disrupt even the most masterful plans of action."

Ceara stepped forward and held up a hand. “Can we slow down a moment?” The thief looked at the array of men and women with a fairly anxious look in her eyes. “This thing has killed two gods, and our plan to defeat him is to neatly collect all the things he needs to kill the others Whats to stop him from murdering the lot of us and taking it all back?”

"He did say 'destroying the means' was in the cards, in fairness," Kinara chimed in. "Or returning them to the Gods who left them on Thurius when they ascended from this world so long ago. I can imagine that if something is killing Shaituns, the Gods would certainly hear."

Gleefully making the sign of Solanius over his heart, Lucian glanced up to the sky with a smile. "Though I wish it were around better circumstances, I do long to meet my Father, face to divine face."

"Not another word!" Angela snapped, her face aready going bright red with fury. "If I didn't need you alive, my sword would already be in your skull. Don't push your luck."

"This is ridiculous!" Gottmar shouted, turning furiously on the apostles. "You admit that we have the element of surprise, and still you want us to waste time hunting these artifacts of yours?" He took a step towards them, hand edging closer to his blade. "You are either stupid or malevolent if you wish us to throw away our primary - perhaps our only - advantage, heretic. Which is it?"

"Yes! You are just absolutely the best!" Sorano cried with a huge grin on his face. He clapped his hands once and turned aside, clearly trying to stifle laughter. "You think that the element of surprise means that we can sneak up to a being that has slain the God of Undeath and Pestilence, and the Goddess of Thievery, Tricks, and Schemes, and just start hitting it until it's dead," he said. Taking a deep breath and a moment to clear the amusement from his system, he shook his head slowly and continued, saying, "This is not a wargame. This is not so simple a matter as saying, 'if it bleeds, we can kill it.' We can't waste our element of surprise on a head-on assault, because if we do, we will certainly fail, and anyone who survives is now marked for death, and we won't have the option of going after artifacts of power to limit the extent of Htraknu's ability to steal the essences of Shaituns and Gods."

"It's best we limit Htraknu while he's unaware of our meddling and our location," Kinara added. "Especially if we recover artifacts belonging to the Pantheon -- the Gods would surely know of our efforts and support us in a concentrated attack on Htraknu once we're actually ready to do that."

The witch-hunter launched a sharp backhand across Sorano's face, leather striking skin with a loud crack. "You think this is a joke, pathetic elf?! You think we can afford to waste our time playing at being archaeologists instead of fighting the entity we wish to slay?!" He turned away, disgusted. "If it bleeds, we most certainly can kill it. It will be hard to make it bleed, and it will need to lose far more blood than any of the eastern hordes you may have faced, but it will die! And as for you, cow-woman," his attention shifted to Kinara, still no less furious. "If, by your logic, the Gods will know of our deeds, and Htraknu has the power of two Gods, why would we have the element of surprise at all?"

Angela sighed and planted a firm hand on Gottmar's shoulder. "Listen here." she growled. "I don't care how good you think you are at dragonslaying. You genuinely think that we can stop a dragon that has the power of two gods with our swords and arrows and magic? You'd see us all killed, and our deaths would add nothing to the cause!" she paused for a second to allow what she said to hopefully sink in. "We're not talking about your own glory here, we're talking about the very fate of the world! We cannot afford to be thinking that small, it's far too late for that. We need to think big."

"We need the powers of the gods on our side. These artefacts will give us the means to gain just that!"

"How so, exactly?" Gottmar enquired, roughly brushing Angela's hand away and turning to face her. "What real advantage do we stand to gain by recovering these artifacts? Correct me if I am wrong, but our foe did not acquire his power by collecting trinkets - he slayed gods. Unless we mean to do the same, we will be no more powerful with the artifacts in our possession than we are now. All we will have accomplished is delaying the dragon's plans, and we will eventually have to fight the beast regardless. The sooner we attack, the less time it will have to prepare. In all likelihood, we will die trying, no matter when or how we approach the enemy." Imitating the Vilvere knight's gesture, he placed a gloved hand on her shoulder. "Does that scare you, knight? Is that why you are so determined to buy time?"

The knight shook her head, looking extremely irritated by the question. "What scares me, Eibenschütz, is my death not mattering. You don't think I wouldn't die the slowest, most painful death imaginable to give the world even a tiny chance? Your plan wouldn't be giving the world a chance, it'd be throwing our lives away and I can't allow you to do that." she slapped hard at the hand on her shoulder as if she were swatting a fly. "We can get the artefacts and take their powers to stop Htraknu! The more power it gathers, the harder it will be to stop it."

The witch hunter gave an exasperated sigh. "I will concede that you are not wholly incorrect, at least in theory," he grumbled. "But you neglect one very important factor, knight - an elder dragon with the power of two gods is hunting these artifacts even as we stand around bickering now. There is but one holy relic of power I am even vaguely aware of the alleged whereabouts of. What miracle do you propose will guide our little band of commoners and heretics to the rest before our enemy?"

"I don't know." Angela said frankly as she looked Gottmar straight in the face. "What I do know, is that Htraknu won't stop. Ever. First it's the gods, then our children, and then the rest of the world. I will not take that lying down while the Infernum still boils." She glared at everyone around her. "Are you coming with me? Or do I have to do this myself?"

Gottmar snorted derisively. "I have been suggesting the precise opposite of 'taking it lying down' for the entirety of this argument. If you believe implying you would undertake this task alone makes you appear any more courageous or virtuous than the rest of us, you are sorely mistaken."

"Was that so difficult?" Angela smirked, her voice full of condescending venom. "Besides, you've been advocating getting us killed for no purpose, as I have told you countless times." She studied the witch-hunter from head to toe, as if she'd only just cared to give him that attention. "I have no idea how a madman like you lived past thirty."

"As do I, striking mages and warriors out of turn," Kinara sneered as she tended to Sorano. Not that he needed any aid, though the Samothauress still made a brief check for blood. The Sun Elf dismissively pushed her hand away and wordlessly shook his head.

"By being very good at killing very dangerous things," the witch hunter replied, ignoring the cow-woman's feeble jabs. "You'd do well to remember that."

"Have you ever killed an adult dragon before?" Angela didn't feel the need to say any more than that.

The corner of Gottmar's mouth twitched into a cold approximation of a smile. He nodded.

Angela tilted her head just slightly. She didn't make any further comment - she simply smirked.

"Then we are agreed," Lucian said, stepping forwards. "We make for the Dragon's Spine, where we locate Bjorn or his information, and we split off from there to seek divine and shaitunist artifacts to delay Htraknu's ascent to solitary godhood. A monopotheosis that would doom Thurius," he said. He turned to give a sideways glance to Gottmar. "And one final statement before we set out on this journey that we all share mutually, Witch Hunter. Though perhaps these sentiments go unrequited, I have tremendous respect for the Chevaleresse-Lieutenant and, like her, I wish to see healthy cohesion within this travel party. I do not want there to be senseless violence among ourselves when the object of our more righteous anger is a dragon which threatens to kill the Gods we love and worship," he explained, now fully facing Gottmar. "Alas, even my patience is limited when it comes to the welfare of my brethren. Treat my own with due civility and there shall be no issues." With this, he gestured for Sorano and Kinara to follow, with Allen following of his own accord and curiosity, and the four departed to return to the hostel where they had left the Krossavikers.

To Meddle in the Affairs of Dragons

The Agony of Hargash

The winter's breath had returned nearly in full force, the snow falling heavy around the marching warband as they proceeded on the road to Viarosa, over the rolling hills of Illyrica. Having recently eaten and packed up camp, the party of travelers kept mostly to themselves, a few still waking up. Lucian and his two Apostles had donned their armor and Order surcoats, kept warm by gambeson padding beneath their plates and mail in the case of Lucian and Kinara. Sorano made do with his mage's robes, spun with thick wool and protected by riveted mail beneath the cloth exterior.

They were not anticipating Fall to be this cold, even so late into the season. Keeping such complaints to himself, Lucian looked behind his shoulders and called to the party, "So, how was breakfast for everyone? Was the Venison to preference?"

Erika gave a nod. "It was good. I normally eat my venison less thoroughly cooked than that, but I liked it anyways." Herbert gave a small chuckle that would likely go unnoticed by the knight. He knew full well that Erika normally ate her venison uncooked. "I liked it too."

"It was delightful," replied Erwyn with a courteous smile. "Although I personally would have smoked the venison over cinnamon and finished it off with a little brandy - really brings out the full flavour." He smirked. "May Solanius smite me for my sinful decandence and all that."

What this actually did was elicit a bout of laughter from the three knights. Their Grandmaster smiled at Erwyn, shrugging defeatedly. "Hardly would he smite you for having taste! Alas, I neglected to stock brandy. When we arrive in Viarosa, I'll certainly purchase some should the opportunity arise."

"Personally I agree with the nightstalker," Sorano replied deadpan. "We've cinnamon for preservation no?"

Kinara mentally ran through what she remembered of the ledger, turning to Sorano and replying, "I believe it is in the spice and herb box, what amount of it we didn't use for immediate preservation. Along with the saffron. That reminds me, we brought the olibanum and myrrh, yes?"

"Yes, for use Saturday evening?"

Coincidentally, as they spoke of burning incense, Kinara could swear that she herself smelled something burning in the air. Looking forwards, her eyes widened at the sight of a pillar of black smoke that had become visible above the sloping hill. Given their trek was through open plains, this was either a brush fire or far worse. Moments later, the sound of screaming comings RT the hill confirmed the latter.

Erwyn was the first to react, his vampiric reflexes spurring him into action instantly. Urging his warhorse forward, the Count's ornately decorated crossbow appeared in his left hand, already loaded, and with his right he drew his long, razor-sharp rapier from its scabbard and held it aloft. The vampire raced to the front of the party, he and his armoured destrier reaching the hill's summit at breakneck speed. As the immortal and his mount crested the hill, they were greeted by the sight of a pack of demons ravaging the village. There were about thirty to forty of the fiends, and each one invited revulsion in its own unique way. Some were partially decomposing, some had insect-like features on a larger scale, and yet others resembled beings turned inside out. It was not only their appearance that drew disgust, the very way they moved seemed a near-blasphemous thing. Some slithered, some oozed, and others loped along at an unnatural gait. The villagers were doing their best to fend off the attackers, but they were poorly armed and seemed to lack skill. The Count turned his head back towards the party, eyes blazing with a furious crimson light. "Demons!" he yelled in his thick Asmeiner accent, waving his sword towards the hordes of hellish monsters. "We must protect the villagers! Charge!" Not waiting to see whether any of his travelling companions were following, Erwyn spurred his horse forward once more, his rapier extended out in front of him like a lance, the ancient runes etched along its blade glowing with raw sorcerous power.

Élise had heard the screams just as Erwyn did, however instead of charging straight into battle as the elder vampire did, she froze. She had visited this village the night before, and this was the home of the young girl that she had hunted through the forest and murdered to sate her unnatural thirst for human blood. She could hardly bear the thought of returning to the village, even in the state that it now was. What if she was recognised? Surely it wouldn’t be too difficult for the villagers to realise that she, a complete stranger, had suspiciously disappeared on the same night that one of their own went missing? Nevertheless, Élise drew her sword in preparation, the Dark Lady’s enchantment causing the elegant blade to emanate an icy chill, and yet she still remained frozen in place. Even if she did want to return to the village in an attempt to save it, which was an idea that she was not particularly fond of, what could she be expected to do? She was a pureblood vampire, and the sun was blazing high in the cloudless sky. If her skin was to be exposed to the punishing rays of the sun, which was a distinct possibility in the heat of battle, she would burn as if she was engulfed in flames. Élise could do nothing in this situation, but it seemed as if her new comrades had other ideas.

Upon hearing the Count's cry of demons, Kinara was second to spring from the carriage, clutching her bow and quiver. Slinging the latter onto her back she drew an arrow and nocked it, charging up the hill. Lucian pulled the horses to a stop and leapt out of the driver's seat, a hand on the top of his scabbard as he followed after the Samothauress. "Kinara!" he cried, "Stay back with Rhiara, give us supporting fire! Sorano, Nima, come with me, prioritize the villagers!" The Elf did as commanded, his body crackling with white hot lightning as he sped up the hill, soaring over the peak and downhill slope towards the village. Nima was quick to follow with his horse, pulling his shield closer to his body and couching his lance at the encroaching demons.

The Krossavikers rallied third, delayed only by Erika taking a moment to transform into a ferocious manticore while Herbert quickly unlocked an iron chest and pulled out a few flasks of blood. Blood in hand, Herbert leaped onto Erika's back and the two flew towards the village, soon overtaking the knights. Upon flying over the hill and sighting the demons, the healer roared a challenge to draw their attention away from the villagers. As some of the villagers spotted the two and paled, the couple charged into battle with Erika launching a volley of venomous spines at some of the demons that had not yet reached the surviving villagers.

Athaliah grabbed her shield from the back of Herbert and Erika’s wagon; the worst of the damage it took from the fight with those bandits a few days ago had been repaired, albeit rather shoddily. Even though Lucian basically ordered Rhiara to stay behind, she had other ideas: seeing Erwyn and Nima ride off into battle on horseback made her think that she and Athaliah could do the same. Just as Athaliah was about to charge off into the fray, Rhiara called out. “Ath, wait up for a second, please? Oh, and uh… can you grab your spear?”
Athaliah was obviously confused; what could Rhiara need that was more important than the villagers’ lives, and why would she need a spear in this fight anyway? Regardless, she did as she was asked. “Weiss, what is it?” she asked, frustration clear in her voice.

Not wanting to waste any time, Rhiara decided to be direct. “How would you like to ride me as a winged unicorn?”
Athaliah’s face displayed quite a few emotions: surprise, confusion, and a bit of sadness, for starters. “You know I’m not trained to fight on horseback, right?”
“Yes, but I’m sentient, and normal horses aren’t; just trust me, okay?”
Athaliah sighed, and shrugged. “Okay, fine. But if I die, I’ll haunt you.” She turned to the rest of the group who were still within hearing range and shouted. “Rhi and I will go around and hit them from the side!” At that, they disappeared into the cover of some nearby trees, where Rhi made her transition; the second one of her whole life, in fact.

As a winged unicorn, her hide, mane, and tail were bright white, and her large feathery wings almost glowed. Although she couldn’t actually speak, she could communicate telepathically, much like all humans who had an animal form. ‘get on, quick!’ Athaliah didn’t need telling twice; she almost leapt onto her friend’s back, and with her spear and shield in hand, she rode back towards the town.

Concurrent to the spine volley, Sorano landed squarely in the middle of a small group of inverted-flesh demons, his electrical aura exploding on impact with the ground. Bolts of lightning bounced between his targets, frying them where they stood as the elf drew his broadsword, issuing a coup de grace to each hellish creature in his vicinity caught in the blast. Nima crashed into a group of demons near Sorano, savagely impaling one monster on his spear and trampling another underneath his screaming horse. The slave soldier dropped his lance as his mount began to slow in the face of so many monstrous creatures, rearing and nearly launching the cataphract out of the saddle. He drew his sword with his free hand, hacking and slashing into his demonic enemies.

Upon sighting the new, mortal belligerents, some of the cornered villagers took advantage of the provided distraction to flee from their assailants. The moment one hellish soldier turned to face its challengers, it took a toxic spine to the bridge of its nose, or at least the structure analogous to a nose. That was when its intended prey, a peasant man and a small boy, took off towards the caravan. The peasant scooped the child up and began sprinting out of the village, pursued by the slain demon's partner.

It raised its infernal claw, seeking human flesh, when Lucian collided with it, his shield bared in a shoulder charge. Bashing the insectoid demon in the head, Lucian lifted his blade and in two powerful swings, slashed the demon's exoskeleton to open the throat and stomach, black blood and fetid, burning gore dropping from its body. "Run to the caravan! The archers will protect you!" he cried to the pair of villagers. He turned back only just in time to see the edge of a greatsword coming down upon him. Skipping to the side, he swung his own blade in return, cutting his titanic attacker across the hip. His holy weapon ignited the flesh, the blaze spreading around the wound as the demon cried out in agony, picking up its dark sword and sweeping it at Lucian's waist-level, seeking to cleave him in two.

Before it could complete the motion, an arrow shot from the hills burrowed its way through the demon's helmet and inverted flesh, stopping short of exiting the other side of the skull. The swing lost much of its force as the body went limp, and Lucian was able to leap back, away from the crumpling corpse. Looking to the source of the arrow, Kinara glanced back for but a moment before nocking another arrow, taking aim at some of the smaller, quicker monsters that scurried up the hill after the refugees she stood back to protect.

Erwyn had circled wide, to avoid being caught in the manticore's barrage of deadly spikes. Raising his crossbow, the vampire loosed a pair of bolts in rapid succession, each of the hardened steel projectiles slamming directly into the heads - the writhing mass of deformed flesh and hideous snapping jaws that vaguely resembled heads, at least - of two insectoid demons, a spray of thick green fluid erupting from each wound.

A shrill scream echoed to the left, and Erwyn turned his head to see another pair of demons advancing towards a young mother and her child, sprawled helplessly on the ground as the monsters closed in. Urging his horse back around, the vampire charged again, ploughing into the fiendish beasts, hurling one's hellishly deformed body aside and slicing clean through the other with his blade. In a flash, the Count had dismounted, loosing a bolt at point-blank range into the demon his horse had collided with. Slinging his crossbow onto his back, the vampire scooped up the two cowering civilians and threw them onto the back of his destrier, giving a cursory glance to check they were not going to fall before planting a firm slap on the beast's hindquarters, sending it and its new riders galloping back towards the safety of the caravan.

Continuing on, Erwyn began to advance towards the main body of the horde, cleaving another unfortunate demon in twain before moving straight on to the next; his relentless sword strokes interrupted with bursts of dark magic as tendrils of shadow reached out to claw at his monstrous foe.

Confronted by the newcomers, most of the fiends wheeled to face them while others continued their cruelties against the villagers. Despite the fearsome nature of their new foes, the unholy creatures did not seem at all fazed. Instead, a good many of them seemed to be relieved, if not outright delighted. Then again, the demons were perverse, otherworldly creatures, so perhaps they only appeared to be relieved or delighted. Regardless, there seemed to be a frenzied madness to their actions beyond that of normal demons - as if they were driven by a rage and desperation like no other. The demons swarmed towards the village's would-be saviors as a wave of claws, teeth, mandibles, tentacles and twisted, rotting flesh.

They were soon met with equal - if not greater - ferocity by the Krossavikers. Herbert dismounted and drew his weapons - a sword of steel and cold iron in his right hand and a dark iron symbol of Dolekar in his left hand. The unholy symbol was a disc emblazoned with a set of scales balancing a sword against a pile of skulls. Running forward, the monster hunter brandished the disc at the demons and willed his fury into it. His desire to harm the demons, the need to avenge the wrongs committed, older grudges against malevolent magical creatures in general - all these he used to invoke the vengeful deity's power against the demons.

Purplish-black flames flickered around the metal but Herbert was unharmed. The demons, on the other hand - while not slain or even seriously injured - seemed pained, disoriented and slowed. As the monster hunter continued his advance, he kept the symbol raised and Erika lept past him into a cluster of fiends.

Upon landing, the manticoress crushed two of the demons beneath her paws. Fittingly enough, the unholy creatures in question were reminiscent of insects in form. With a flick of her tail, Erika impaled three more of the fiends with spines at point blank.

Despite the ease with which their comrades were dispatched, the remaining five demons nearby swarmed towards the healer with weapons and claws at the ready. Even hindered by the power of Dolekar, they were still quick-moving. As Erika batted one away and moved back to face them, they fell upon her.

While the claws of one fiend did little, another rammed a spear into her side and another stabbed the back of her foreleg with a rusty sword. The last one was the first that Herbert reached and as the demon raised its axe to bring it down on Erika, the fiend was surprised to find a blade erupting from its chest.

As swiftly as he had skewered the fiend, the hunter withdrew his blade and continued his assault. The next fiend he dispatched by slamming his symbol of Dolekar into what passed for the wretched creature's temple. With a scent like rotting meat being set ablaze, the creature collapsed with half of its head burned away.

Though the symbol had merely weakened the fiends before, its effects were more tangible now that they had given Herbert true, personal reason to seek vengeance upon them. With a speed not entirely his own, Herbert ducked under Erika's torso and emerged on the other side to face the last two demons. With a flick of his wrist, he disemboweled the one before proceeding to stab the other.

Erika meanwhile, had been struggling with the pain of her wounds. She may have been able to take the form of a killing machine, she was no warrior and it was rare that she had to deal with sharp objects being inserted into her flesh. With a whimper, she collapsed to the ground and returned to human form.

Within a heartbeat, Herbert dropped his weapons and rushed to her side. After giving her hand a quick squeeze for reassurance, he drew a knife and cut several sizable strips out of his cloak. Without wasting any time, he bandaged her wounds with the thick, black cloth. Fortunately, the transformation had removed the spear.

Once he had bandaged Erika's wounds, Herbert sat beside her and held her. The two of them sat there for a minute or two. Finally, Erika took a deep breath,closed her eyes, and placed her hands over the bandages before quietly speaking an incantation. Soft white light emanated from her hands and she was whole once.

As she removed the bloody rags, she looked to Herbert and gave a sort of embarrassed half-smile. "I'm sorry for ruining your favorite cloak."

The monster hunter smiled back gently. "I'd much rather lose my favorite cloak than my favorite person." As he spoke, he stood and picked up his weapons. "Now, if you're ready, our companions and the villagers might still need a blade or a medic."

---

Through the crackle of the fires and the shrieking of the demons, Lucian could hear cries for help coming from the council hall. The village's militia stood their ground around the building, fighting in vain against beasts they were not trained to fight. Still, they held their own, preventing the building from being entirely overrun. They wouldn't last, however, not by themselves. So Lucian charged towards the council hall, through what resistance the demons put up. As he passed by two of the abominations, he moved to incapacitate them. Swiping downwards, his blade sliced into the leg of the first, severing the sinew, causing it to drop to its knee. The demon in question lifted its axe to guard against the next attack, catching the edge of Lucian's sword in its wooden shaft, which was deceptively strong despite its rotten, twisted appearance.

Lucian clobbered the demon in the head with the edge of his shield, knocking it onto its back. As he moved to execute it, its partner advanced towards him, driving its foot into Lucian's breastplate, splaying him out on the ground. It lifted its maul, its insectoid mandibles clicking in anticipation. Before it could start swinging, Sorano appeared, driving his sword through the demon's back, the blade exiting out of the stomach. It crackled with lightning, electrocuting the demon as it was impaled.

Kicking the beast over, Sorano retrieved his sword and hastily strided towards Lucian, offering him his hand and quickly pulling his liege off the ground. "These creatures are no doubt from Hargash's realm. I can tell, they're grotesque enough to be his and Rastuna's spawn," Sorano stated as Lucian stood to his feet.

"Whatever they are and whencever they proceeded, we banish them. Follow me, the villagers have taken refuge in their council hall," Lucian said, pointing to the hall. Sure enough, human soldiers held their foes at bay with polearms, keeping a healthy distance from the slower, bulkier monsters that padded the Infernal army.

‘I’m starting to regret this idea!’ Rhiara thought to Athaliah as she charged at a pair of demons, who were busy tormenting a simple farmer.
“Just keep going in a straight line, Okay?!” Ath shouted, levelling her spear and keeping her shoddy shield close to her chest. Rhiara chose to remain silent, focusing entirely on running as fast as she could. When the demons finally noticed the two girls, it was far too late for them to do anything; one was impaled in the chest by Astela’s spear, and the other found its face directly in line with Rhiara’s almost glowing horn. The monsters were carried for a few dozen metres before being thrown off to the side like useless junk.

Athaliah looked around her, seeing that her companions were mostly successful in fighting off the demons elsewhere. ‘Eww!’ a thought resounded in Athaliah’s head. Rhiara must have forgot that she could communicate telepathically.
Athaliah sniggered at her friend’s disgust. “What’s the matter, Weiss?”
‘Oh, er… I forgot you could hear me think. I’ve got this horrible demon face-blood on my horn and it’s all sticky and… eww.’
"Aww, c'mon, you'll get over it." Ath patted her friend on the neck. "Let's keep at it."

The pair continued to charge at separated demons for a little while longer, in an effort to thin them out before they reached the council hall; the fact that the demons were more focused on simply creating chaos and killing defenceless men, women and children made their jobs plenty easier.
A lone demon, much larger than many of the monsters in the attack, stood at the far end of the now-trashed village. Its armour seemed to have fused to its body, almost as if it was part of the being itself. Its eyes shone a dull, almost lifeless red, but it had no other facial features at all. The demon had a mace where its right hand should have been, made even more deadly by some nasty spikes around the mace’s business end.

The demon seemed to only be surveying the battle, at least for the time being. Then, almost as if it detected their very presence, it turned its head in the girls’ direction. Athaliah and Rhiara both locked their eyes on the demon’s own; something in the backs of their minds told them that they had made a grave mistake.
“Rhiara?” Athaliah’s voice was quiet and shaky, and her skin was almost completely white. “We need to go.”
‘Yeah…’ Rhiara turned around and galloped as fast as her legs could carry her.

Soon, the council hall – and their friends – were in sight. Ath looked behind her to see if the demon was still there. It wasn’t. Just as she turned to look ahead of her again, the demon suddenly manifested itself right in front of Rhiara and Athaliah. They could only watch and prepare themselves as the monster lifted its hand and prepared to bring it down upon them. Athaliah closed her eyes and braced for the impact that never came. Instead, the demon's hand grabbed Rhiara's neck and, with strength not expected even from a demon, sent her falling backwards.

Rhiara had switched back to her human self just before she and Athaliah had hit the ground; not only did she not see the point in it anymore, she also wasn't happy with the possibility of crushing her crush either. The two girls landed in quite a crumpled heap; the demon stood over them, its featureless face and empty eyes still giving away no emotion. It almost seemed... serene, in a strange way.

The Hoffen girls scrambled off of each other and armed themselves once again. Rhiara's clothes were quite badly torn because of her transformation, but she paid it no mind and had her bow and an arrow pointed at the monster before her. Athaliah had dumped her spear, and instead decided that her sword was the best weapon for this fight.

An arrow was already flying through the air, digging in to where the demon's right cheek might have been. If it had felt the arrow entering its face, the demon made no show of it. Instead, the demon rushed towards Athaliah with speed that surprised them both; Athaliah only barely managed to brush aside its mace as she drove her sword into the demon's side. Her efforts were rewarded with a high-pitched shriek and a rapid punch to her sternum.

She fell to the ground gasping for breath as Rhiara began shooting more arrows. The monster's face looked like a pincushion but it showed no sign of slowing down. Finally, the demon turned its full attention to Rhiara. She took several steps back and by this point, she was visibly quivering in her boots. She took a quick glance at her best friend; she was on her knees, trying to use her sword to help her get back to her feet.

The demon lunged and was upon Rhiara in the blink of an eye - she made an attempt to duck under the demon's attack, but to no avail; she found herself in the demon's hand, its crushing grip threatened to turn her neck into dust. She was completely off the ground by that point, and already she could feel herself slipping away - her thoughts lingered on her family and friends, and the things left unsaid...

Its death-grip relaxed a little as it let out another scream; Athaliah stood behind the demon, her sword hilt-deep in its lower back. Regardless of whether or not it actually had a spine, it certainly seemed to hurt. Its eyes flashed a brighter shade of red than before as it turned around to face its attacker. Rhiara would soon get the breaths she was begging for, just not in the way she had hoped.

She found herself flying through the air for not even half a second, coming to a stop when she smashed into Athaliah. Once again, the two were stuck in a heap. They tried to untangle themselves, but they weren't in the condition to do so anymore... The demon no longer looked serene with its glowing red eyes and its balled fist.

Likely to the immense relief of the Hoffen girls, a new sword emerged from the unholy being's torso. As the blade passed through first one way and then back, the demon's flesh sizzled and withered away from the metal. Furious, the fiend turned to face its new adversary with its mace-like fist swinging.

The monster hunter from Krossavik ducked the blow and brought one of his blades up to sever the moving limb while bringing his other blade across the beast's body to leave a smoking cut. With a scream, the fiend grabbed at Herbert with its remaining hand and caught him by his already-damaged cloak.

As the hellspawn lifted him up and prepared to smash him aginst the ground, its legs buckled and it fell forward to its knees, shrieking in pain. Behind it, shoving a jagged, poisonous spine into its back with her bleeding hands was Erika. With the demon weakened and distracted, Herbert swung his blades once more and severed its head along with the hand that held him. As the slain beast fell forward towards him, Herbert rolled nimbly out of the way.

Seeing that Herbert was unharmed, Erika began to bandage her hands and the two walked to the Hoffen girls. The healer took one look at the heap the Hoffen girls were in and exhaled. "Herbert, I'm going to need some blood for this." Wordlessly, the monster hunter handed her a couple of the canteens hanging on his person. Without further ado, the half-manticore began tending to Athaliah and Rhiara. "We should probably stick together in the future. We almost lost you two."

"Y-yeah..." Athaliah replied breathlessly. She put one of her hands on Erika's shoulder. "Thank you. You too, Herbert. I... well, I don't want to think about what could have happened if you weren't there."
Rhiara had just finished wiping a few tears from her eyes. "I-we, owe you everything."
The pair of girls couldn't quite find any more words to do justice to what happened; they would have died, but Erika and Herbert didn't let that happen. Because they cared? Because the girls were somehow important? Whatever the answer was, it filled them with relief and joy.

Erika gave Athaliah a quick hug and a gentle smile almost graced Herbert's visage. "We're glad you're alright." Said the monster hunter. "Now let's go find the others, they may also need our help."

---

The reinforced oaken door slammed shut as Lucian pressed himself hard against it. Holding it closed, militiamen close by rushed to pull the bar down and stop the door. Lucian ambled away from the door, setting down his shield and leaning against one of the tables. Breathing heavily, he scanned the room for Sorano, finding him resting on the floor of the town hall, looked after by some of the surviving peasants.

"Where's Herbert and the others?" the elf asked his Grandmaster.

A few moments after Sorano asked his question, the pounding of the demons upon the door came to a halt and was briefly replaced by a mix of shrieks, roars, and a battlecry. The noise went ominously silent for several heartbeats and then there was a knock at the door rather than the previous assault. "Open up!" Called the gruff voice of the monster hunter from Krossavik.

Lucian held up his sword and lurched for the barricade, pushing it up to let the door swing open, revealing the Krossavikers, the Hoffen girls and the remnants of the carnage just beyond the doorway. "Inside, quickly!" he called, ushering the four inside. As soon as they scrambled inside, the door was once again shut.

"I've never seen these creatures so frenzied, so determined to raze a single village," Sorano noted, his hand squeezing a recent wound to the shoulder. "Whatever it is that they want, they've come in stronger force than what usually leaks through into Thurius."

"There is nothing here but the land we tilled and the cattle we raised," cried one of the militiamen, looking away from the door for a moment to address the elf. "We have nothing that they would want but our lives! And we certainly would have lost them all sooner had it not been for your interference."

At that, a horrifying thought popped into Lucian's mind. He snapped to attention, grabbing Herbert's arm, "Where is Kinara?! Dare I ask, the vampire and the slave-soldier, Nima?!"

The bloodstained Krossaviker stared back with a stony expression on his rarely smiling face. "I caught a glimpse of the vampire slinking off the battlefield. I assumed Kinara was with you and haven't a clue where Nima is. We'll have to look for them, though you'll have to let go of my arm before we depart."

The two Knights fell silent, exchanging a sullen glance. Lucian released Herbert's arm, took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly, quickly performing the sign of the Sun over himself. "Solanius benedice, there is hope yet that we can all get out in one piece. Alas..." he replied. He stepped towards the center of the room, clearing his throat as he announced, "I want every man and woman in this room not bracing an entrance to listen carefully." He paused a beat, as the civilians and wounded soldiers alike turned to face him. "These creatures, these servants of Hargash, have come in numbers, and with a fury unprecedented. We will be overrun, but only if we choose to hold our ground longer than it can hold us. Thus, we must retreat, and create enough distance between us and them that we can safely send a messenger to Mirador; the Order presence there would never let such a Shaitunic force go unchecked within their jurisdiction. But I have never been a man who would leave men, women, and children to die when I had every opportunity and the power to save them. Gather what belongings you can carry, arm yourselves with whatever you can. Go with the Sun Elf by the hearth, and make for our caravan well outside the village. We will delay the demons and rescue any survivors we can find. If any should object, speak now."

The Krossavikers listened attentively. If Herbert resented the Knight taking command, he didn't show it. Now was hardly the time to be squabbling over petty group politics regarding who was in charge. There was another issue though, that Erika knew would interfere with just how much she could help. Herbert knew it as well and handed her two of the containers of blood hanging on his belt before she spoke to Lucian. "I'm low on magic, but I'll do what I can. I'm not used to using blood magic, but it'll do for first aid. I won't be able to whip up anymore transformations today though."

"Then I will need you to accompany the survivors back to the caravan with Sorano, to keep them safe. Many of them require medical attention and doubtless, you can provide it," Lucian said, nodding his head graciously. He turned to a pair of soldiers and gestured for them to follow. "You there, on me. We search for survivors and to rally with the others fighting immediately," he said. He reached to pick up his shield, looking over to Herbert. "Ser Leintke, will you accompany these gentlemen and myself to retrieve those still in the village, or protect the escapees?"

Erika quietly moved to begin administering aid to the villagers while Herbert gave a nod and spoke. "Whichever's more needed." He wiped off his blades with a cloth and looked back to the Grandmaster. "Is everyone ready to go then?"

"Indeed I am. I would appreciate the aid in retrieving Kinara and Nima, if you wouldn't mind, Ser Leintke," Lucian replied. He then turned to the Hoffenites Athaliah and Rhiara, gesturing to them, "I need the two of you to aid Sorano and Erika and protect the fleeing villagers while these two, Herbert and I hunt down our missing comrades," he said, starting for the door. "Stay with them at all times and do not get separated, if this plan goes even the slightest bit awry it could cost us dearly, and we are deeply pressured for time!" He signalled to the guards to carefully open it as he drew his sword, and right away the group was met with resistance on the other side. The time to cut their way out was at hand.

---

There was a horde of demons at the other end of the village, all of them pressed against a single house. At the head of the swirling mass of claw and tooth, and with his back against the poor wooden walls of the village shack, there was a figure wrapped in polished armour struggling against his many opponents with a kind of mechanical determination. One demon had dug his claws into Nima’s side, pressing the armour inward rather painfully. Another was repeatedly attempting to bite through the chainmail that covered his neck, while the slave-soldier continually stabbed it in the stomach with a dagger. The rest of the monsters pushed forward, crushing both friend and foe together in a terrible battle between steel and rotten flesh.

The sound of an arrow piercing flesh was heard, and the pressure on the slave-soldier's throat was lifted as the demon slumped onto the ground at his feet. The surrounding monstrosities ceased their ravenous growling and roaring, a few turning towards the source of the arrow.

Thwip.

Thwip.

Standing on the high ground, Kinara released another nocked arrow, letting it fly into the throat of a demon before pulling another out of her quiver by the nock. There was a hatred burning in her eyes, though whether it was to Nima or the Horde she gave such a surly glare to was unclear. Several of the attacking monsters detached from the house, now targeting the Samothauress on the hill. She let loose the next arrow, following up with the next in rapid succession and with a keen eye. Each demon struck was felled in short order, but their companions charged forwards to meet their killer in close quarters. Swinging her bow over her shoulder, she reached for her mace, slamming the head into the skull of a lunging abomination, knocking it to the side, dead where it collapsed. She clutched her buckler, deflecting a wretched, jagged sword before thrusting the top of the mace into her attacker's throat, rearing back while it staggered, and driving the weapon down onto the crown of the skull.

While the demons' attention was divided between the Easterner and the cow-woman, another combatant joined the fray. Herbert stabbed one of the abominations in the back and then, as the beast howled in pain, the monster hunter used his spare hand to raise a canteen full of blood to his lips and gulp it down the way an alcoholic chugs beer.

With the attention of the closest demons drawn, Herbert quickly lowered the empty canteen and drew the unholy symbol of Dolekar once more, holding it out in front of him towards his enemies. He poured his bitterness and his fury at the slaughter of innocents into the magic, and like his sworn enemy, the dragon Htraknu, he breathed forth flame. As the fire passed over the unholy symbol, it changed color to the earlier purplish-black that had enshrouded the metal and struck the demons with a roar.

The grim Krossaviker watched with just a hint of glee as the fiends melted before his eyes and he sheathed the unholy symbol to draw a second blade before advancing towards the survivors.

One of the flaming demons flailed wildly about, thrashing at Kinara. The Apostle struck the fiend in the wrist with the head of her mace, snapping its arm, its bone piercing through its bubbling, near-liquid and rotten flesh, parrying the blow before driving the rim of her buckler into its throat, staggering it back. The flames weakened it severely, and yet, suffocating on its collapsed windpipe as well, it tried once again to advance. It was promptly met with a bovine hoof to the chest, and its feet left the ground, the monster tumbling down the hill, a trail of Dolekarian flame flickering onto the dead grass before fading in wisps of smoke.

Kinara turned to Herbert, locking eyes with him for but a moment before snapping to attention to parry a battleaxe with her buckler, swinging her mace into the head of her assailant. As soon as the demon crumpled over, a shrill, but undoubtedly human scream could be heard from a ruined barn to the east. "Get the slave-soldier and go!" she called to the Krossaviker. The sound of her hooves beating against the ground followed as the Samothauress sprinted off towards the barn, putting her melee equipment away and drawing her bow and an arrow.

Nima threw the last demon off of him, quickly thrusting his sword directly into the beast's face and twisting the blade free. The horde that had pinned him was broken, and he began to stagger towards his allies, blood seeping through the links in his chainmail armour. Although he was clearly injured he continued to fight, roughly charging into any demon that approached him and dispatching them with relative ease. He fought through the remainder of the horde until he was near to Herbert, whistling weakly for his horse before standing at the ready and waiting for some sort of order.

Herbert took one look at the Easterner and shook his head before moving to support Nima should it prove necessary. "You aren't in any shape to fight at the moment. Let's get you to Erika to make sure you get another chance to kill demons."

Nima didn’t respond for a moment, wrapping a thin piece of cloth around a segment of chainmail that was particularly slick with blood. “No,” He rasped. “I cannot use your Western magic without a purified flame. I will be fine for now, and I will make the fire when this is over.”

Herbert looked at the slave with clear irritation. "Magic's magic. Doesn't matter if you worship the Pantheon, Vakarlon, Lilith, a Shaitun, or an uppity campfire. All sorcery comes from blood one way or another and provided you have the know-how, it all works just fine. Suit yourself if you do not want to be healed, but we're getting out of here."

---

The ruined door of the barn burst open as soon as Kinara had driven the flat of her hoof into it. She nocked her bow and took aim, witnessing a towering demon, with a chilling insectoid countenance, snapping up a woman in its mandibles, thrashing its helpless victim about, ruthlessly thrusting its scythe-like forelegs into her until the screaming ceased. Arriving too late to save the woman, Kinara let loose the arrow intending to at the least avenge her. The arrow lodged itself in the beast's neck, but did not drop it dead. Savagely tossing the limp corpse away, the mantis slurped up the flesh left dangling in its maw and turned to rush towards its next prospective meal.

The Samothauress moved further into the barn, running behind a stack of hay as the monster took a wide slash, its leg getting caught in the densely packed straw. Kinara took an arrow and fired it, piercing the demon's chest, to which it responded with an instinctive roar. In a fit of rage, the beast reared back and slammed the blunt side of its forelegs into the bale of hay, lobbing it off and into Kinara, throwing her onto her back. As it scuttled over to finish her off, she succeeded into firing a last arrow up into its frenzied face, putting out its eye.

It staggered, its head snapping up as its eye took in the arrow. Almost as soon as it had done this, the light of the outside shined through as the back door of the barn opened up. Before Kinara could even scramble to her hooves, she witnessed a brilliant, golden light striking the creature's throat, visibly crushing its windpipe in on itself before vanishing in a puff of shining mist. The beast stumbled around, suffocating on its caved windpipe, before falling onto a burnt wooden beam, which gave way under the demon's weight, bringing the loft down onto it, killing it. Kinara rose to a knee and looked over to see Lucian signalling the frenzied civilians towards the swiftly evacuating caravan; Herbert, Rhiara, Sorano, and Athaliah were joined by the local militia in fending off Hargash's spawn as they tried in vain to rush the caravan.

Lucian rushed over to his Apostle and helped her up to her hooves. "Thank the Gods that you still breathe, woman," he said to her, holding her steady, "Are you injured?"

"I can walk it off, Ser Aquila," Kinara replied, and Lucian released her carefully, "But I thank you nonetheless -- that could have been grislier." She slipped an arrow from her quiver, nodding to her Grandmaster as the two began running back to the caravan as it made its way up the hill, Hargash's horde giving chase.

As the cow-woman and the self-proclaimed demigod drew near, Herbert rushed to aid them. To engage the demons with mere blades would be folly. Once the Order pair had passed him, he drew the last two containers of blood on his bandolier, willed the magic within them to ignite and hurled them at the oncoming demons. With a boom, they scattered pieces of the first few fiends all about and opened a gash in the earth that would slow down the rest of the horde. He'd have to replace the containers, but long-term survival relied on short-term survival.

As the earth was torn open, it went without saying that the subsequent tremors caught the fleeing caravan off guard, as militiamen struggled to keep the frightened horses in line, and the refugees crouched to the ground. Lucian watched as the abominations closest to the epicenter fell into the ground, and those more determined to catch up attempted, in vain, to leap across the chasm. Those with more developed intelligences stood at a distance, unable to pursue further, and with that, they began slinking away back to the village as the caravan kept moving.

The paladin tilted his head quizzically as he began to cautiously backpedal, following the others. When it became clear that they would no longer be under attack, Lucian finally sheathed his blade and turned on his heels, marching with additional haste alongside the wagons. "Let's keep a move on to Viarosa! I need an ablebodied courier front and center, let the Knights at Mirador know what happened here today," he cried out.

This was how the spawn of a god raged upon the death of their father. If Htraknu was indeed capable of slaying the Shaituns, and they did not make haste to stop him, this was only the beginning of a brutal end.

To Meddle in the Affairs of Dragons

Kinara's Memoir

The earliest chapters were the shortest, filled with more obvious details.

My name, Kinara, used to be something of a luxury to me, back before the Order took me in. Bishop Robert of Eastcaster told me that it meant 'Candle Holder.' For a time I believed this to mean that my masters had named me 'candelabra' as a sick joke. It wasn't until Grandmaster Aquila told me that the name wasn't Rosilandic, but Foverosi-Samothraki. A candle holder was either a candelabra or a person, such as a deacon, who would hold candles or torches during Samothraki religious liturgies.

I suppose it made sense, then, that my parents thought of me as a little light in the dark, eternal winter of Rosiland. Such affection was endemic to my immediate family, for the other slaves had no time to deal with weak yet energetic children, and the elves saw my family and I as little more than cattle. A cattle child I was, yet to receive her brand.

As they considered my kind to be little better than the animals they used to plow the fields of rye, potatoes, and whatever struggled to grow in that frozen soil, we were certainly considered lesser beings than the elves who ran shop. We were even beneath the soldiers they imported from the Sindhus. As such, they took great delight in chipping away at our sentience, and the things that made us proper beings. Since my arrival in Klyesha, the date of my own birth remained a mystery. As count of the time escaped us, I managed to estimate my age based on what I heard eavesdropping on my masters as they fondly discussed the day they razed Nikidon, a little fishing village in the north of Samothrace.

The chapter was filled with similar material, denoting the meticulous process of dehumanization and humiliation the Shadow Elves had put her and her family through...

I remember my father's voice, still. Deep, rumbling, and powerful. It wasn't the voice of a slave, meek and obedient, but the gods-given voice of a warrior-king. I remember my mother's touch. Gentle, tender, yet her hands were calloused and rough, dried from the crisp air and cracked from her labor in the fields. It hurts more than anyone can imagine to recall how broken his voice had become as he lay dying, beaten and defeated by both elven cudgels and Shaitunic diseases. The same plague took my mother not days later, and for fear of taking me with her, she could no longer bear to hold me. I believe I was but 15 years when she took her last breath. Six years fending for myself felt as though I had already spent eternity in the realm of Molarten.

They learned their techniques from their repugnant bastard god Dolekar. First there was the simpler strategy of whipping or bludgeoning slaves to keep them working and properly disciplined. For the most part this was what I had received in recompense for my misgivings to my masters. Then, there were the punishments which were meant to punish one's physical insides when damaging their exterior was not enough. Frequent bouts of starvation followed by "recovery binges" weren't out of place among those who worked the mines. Weak poisons were sometimes administered to cause intense nausea, as to make us suffer but not to kill us. We were still useful.

Then the creative punishments. For slaves who stole, the elves or taskmasters would bring out a box of acidic venom with the stolen object placed within. On pain of death the thief would be forced to try and again steal the object. The humans and elves did not last, their fingers melting to the bone and dissolving from there. Most passed out. The stubborn ones continued until they couldn't move their bony fingers to properly grab the object, at which point they died anyways. Us Samothaurs lasted longer, with similar results. I was fortunate enough to have never been caught with stolen food. Yet, the screams haunt me.

The treatments of the mind with the body were by far the worst. "Conditioning" they called it. Where they sought to produce better quality in their property. Discipline befell those who could not properly kiss up to the masters, agreeing to their every word. Rewards came to those who served well by acting as taskmasters and guards, snitching on their fellow slave and damning them to what torture awaited the guilty. I cannot bring myself to describe in detail what else they did to us. Though as hedonistic as the shadow elves could be, many a bored noble shit took out their... "Frustrations" on the slavewomen of the plantation. To include myself. I suppose then that it was fortunate that I would be unconscious as they had their way with me, that I cannot remember them claiming my maidenhood.

Further elaboration on the crimes against the races follow this paragraph in greater detail, seguing into the next chapter.

I had met a Samothaur bull by the name of Themistokos. As gentle as he was headstrong and passionate about the possibility of freedom. He taught me what my parents could not about the culture of our people, for he had been brought to Klyesha as an adolescent, whereas I was but a babe when I was damned to servitude. Of all the slavewomen in Klyesha he had gravitated to me, seeking to get to know me. Some months into our time together he pulled me aside and spoke of a plan to escape. It was a wild and futile strategy looking back, but the determination he possessed moved me and captivated me. It was a passion I hear now in the voice of the Grandmaster when he addresses his legion of soldier-disciples. He too would have made an excellent Apostle.

The Order arrived late one August morning. As I toiled to harvest what was planted in the potato fields I heard a slave soldier shouting alarums to his brethren, the first line of defense. That was when Themistokos came running from the mines, pickaxe still in hand, his fur matted and caked with dirt, blood, and whatever had come off the walls of the mine. He practically scooped me up off the ground as we made haste for the stables, set to steal what horses were left and ride south to Glorious Samothrakia as he called it.

The slave-soldier, a Sindisi thug named Nima, whom I recognized from many a Rosilandic Acid Washbox treatment, approached us and warned of the consequences of swiping the horses. Themistokos, Solanius rest his soul, only kicked the horse into a charge, attempting to run the ashskin over. All that did was make it angry. Everything went by in a flash, but I recall being frozen in place, helplessly watching as the blood ran off into the fields, mixing with the painfully frigid rain as it poured down upon the Plantation. The Sindisi would have claimed me next had it not been for his cohort, which had called by horn to summon him to the heat of the battle.

The sound of clashing metal, braying horses, and screaming men filled the air as I wandered the plantation, searching for other surviving slaves. I knew not of any places where I could find safe harbour, and with Themistokos slain, there was no hope of getting to Samothrace on my own. As time passes, the sickening realization that most of my fellow units of property had either been executed out of spite for our rescuers or had understandingly escaped while the chance presented itself. Returning to the now burning manor, I found bodies littering the courtyard, belonging primarily to what had recently been slave-soldiers.

My parents had once told me that it would have taken angels sent by the Gods, perhaps the Gods themselves, to deliver us from captivity. As a little girl I had always imagined them to be humanlike creatures with large, pristinely feathered wing with which they descended from Heaven, enrobed in simple cloth. I have since come to understand that angels could come from any of the races of Thurius, and had not wings but instead wore armor and beared arms.

And these angels were commanded by a Prince, the Grandmaster of the Order claiming descent from the Divine King of Kings Solanius. For all of his wealth, his property, and his devoted levies and Apostles, I had assumed he would be no more personable than the nobility he had slain, that he would pay no mind to a slavewoman as she stumbled about the ashen barrens of the plantation that once housed her. I was mistaken, for as soon as he and his men spotted me, he called me over to him. He asked me my name and, after I had given it, he bowed to me. Lightly, amiably. It was not a deep bow of reverence as one would give to an Emperor or a God, but it demonstrated a kindness I did not know men of status could possess. He invited me to their camp, as I found he did all survivors we came across. The Order clothed me, fed me, treated any injuries they could find, and offered to deliver me from Rosiland, 'home to Samothrace.'

There and then an indescribable feeling of comfort and relief had consumed me. For all of the evil the world is capable of, for the chilling emptiness and indifference men and elves alike could feel for their fellow being and for the way they saw reality, here stood an army of men and women who still possessed hope in their minds, love in their hearts, and light in their souls.

Much of the following, in summary, spoke of how Kinara came to join the Order that had saved her. Kinara wrote of the initiation process, the chores and training given to squires seeking to become knights or clergy, and the process of ordination.

Starting as an illiterate ex-slave, Kinara had undergone several long courses in language both written and spoken, becoming literate in Common at a staggeringly swift pace as she served the Order alongside the pages and squires before becoming a knight herself, at which point she trained to wield a bow and arrow.

As a knight, she fought and survived many battles, the worst of which she detailed graphically. Having once fought a small herd of rampaging karkadanns, a lone, roaming band of troublesome zombies, and a branch of the cult of Lotec, the Samothauress displayed a powerful force of will in overcoming each challenge and surviving each fight.

It was part of what caught the Grandmaster's curiosity. Lucian, as Kinara writes, stationed her in the Order's capital of Thysdrus, where he tutored Kinara in High Aesernian and patristic literature as she continued to assist in the Order's operations in Aesernia. Her piety and loyalty to the Order and the ideals they fought for is what garnered the Grandmaster's *attention,* whereupon Lucian offered her the position of Apostle, and due to the induction of Apostles being a matter of secrecy, the memoir ends there on a positive note.

As the band of adventurers continued on their path to Viarosa, Herbert set down the book beside him and took a long gulp from a waterskin. He idly reflected that the memoir had been somewhat interesting and he was certainly sympathetic to the Samothaur's misfortunes. However, the monster hunter still had his doubts as to whether or not the cow-woman should be brought along. The book had certainly given a glowing report of Kinara's abilities, but as it had been written by Kinara, it was bound to be at least somewhat biased. He sighed. If only there was a way to simulate a moment of crisis without the actual danger to see how she'd perform.

To Meddle in the Affairs of Dragons

Herbert awoke to the smell of cooking meat and the sound of religion. For some reason, the Order knights seemed to think that dawn was an excellent time to sing hymns. Beside him, Erika slumbered peacefully, undisturbed by the Order's morning routine. Taking care not to wake her, he got out of bed and adjusted the blankets to keep the cold off his beloved.

Erika stirred somewhat and muttered something in her sleep before turning over and unconsciously wrapping the blankets further around herself. Herbert smiled at this and began to get dressed. Once he was done with that, he exited the wagon and walked towards the trio of knights. He had been meaning to speak with Lucian.

The monster hunter found the three sitting a distance from the main camp, having built a crackling fire, wrapped in thick, wooly winter cloaks. They were indeed singing western-traditional hymns in High Aesernian, with Lucian leading the three-person choir, reading from a hymnal he had gotten from a chest of many tomes. As they sung their praises to their gods, the three of them worked together to cook up salted venison over the fire, pairing it with some sort of unleavened bread and some vegetables -- carrots and cabbage it appeared. Judging from the fact that they had already set down three full plates before themselves and yet still continued cooking, it became clear they weren't just making breakfast for themselves.

As soon as he was near enough to greet the three without waking the others, he spoke. "Good morning, mind if I borrow the Grandmaster for a minute?"

The Grandmaster did not initially reply, instead abbreviating the hymn in progress to bring it to an ending as he looked up at Herbert, eyeing him warily. He rose from the frost-covered ground and put away his hymnal, locking up the small chest and picking it up as he stepped over to the man, also picking up a plate of food and handing that off to him. "Continue as you were with the breakfast, Sorano, Kinara," he said, looking back over to his two disciples. "I will return momentarily and we'll serve once we are finished." He walked alongside the monster hunter, walking a fair distance away from the camp. "Now, what was it that you needed to discuss with me?"

"I have some concerns regarding Kinara." Began Herbert. "I have seen her rendered incapable of functioning twice now, and I naturally must worry that she is not fit for this endeavor that we are embarking upon. If we cannot rely on her, then both her safety and the safety of everyone else in our warband is further jeopardized." He then began to eat some of the food he had been given as he waited for the Grandmaster's response.

Lucian stared at the monster hunter completely unfazed as he let out a quiet sigh and set down his chest of books, popping open the locks and looking over a set of books with numbered spines. "I hear your concerns, and by initial appearances, they stand valid. However I believe this to be indicative of a concern of mine," Lucian said, reaching for the leatherbound book whose spine was labeled "K - 1" and holding it out for the man. "When I had asked the morrow of the feast to get to know each other, that was the time to bring forth such issues. Forsooth, you have yet to inquire as to why you see what you see; you have simply only lodged complaints however rational they seem," he said, smiling as he stood up to offer the book.

"You did the same the morning we met to discuss our current plan. You called her by her race and told me it was unwise to bring her with us to begin with. Know first that I can look at you and read your thoughts on the matter as easily as one might read this tome," he continued. "You wonder to yourself questions you know not the answers to: 'why is this unstable cow an Apostle to begin with if this supposed holy man handpicks them all? What does he see in her? Why bring her on such a dangerous task? Why not the Narbosi fellow with the black beard and sharp blue eyes wielding the large sword, he could hew a dragon's arm from its socket!'" Lucian chuckled good naturedly and waved his hand reassuringly. "Perhaps that last part is embellishment, or perhaps you truly would have preferred Raoulin to Kinara. Regardless, I say unto you that you have neglected to pose those questions to those who hold the answers you seek, and in this neglect, I feel that unnecessary tension is drawn between the two of us and our respective companions."

Herbert accepted the book and met Lucian's gaze unflinchingly. "The morning after the feast, when you asked to talk so that we could get to know each other, you gave the impression that you wished to discuss the two of us rather than Kinara. Furthermore, I had obligations to meet. Erika was expecting me. Last night, when Kinara had another episode, I would have spoken with you, but the arrival of our latest companion disrupted things."

"Assuming Raoulin is more stable, I would indeed have preferred Raoulin. Though whether he could hew a dragon's arm from its socket probably depends on the dragon. Explain then. Why did you pick 'this unstable cow' as you put it?"

"The text I have handed you contains Kinara's account of her life, summarized. When we had recruited her, I noticed what could only be described as the opposite of instability. She possesses a great and holy spirit, with strong determination, a powerful will to persevere, and an unwavering sense of justice. She is loyal, tenacious, faithful, and compassionate. She seeks knowledge where she can get it, craving it for the sake of self-betterment where Sorano desires the power, prestige, and piety that comes with his knowledge. She, in my staunch opinion, is a model Apostle. I respect her greatly and love her as I do all of my students, whom I am proud to associate with," Lucian replied. "As for her presence in this quest, I explained to you when we met that she was a strong archer. She spoke with Athaliah and Rhiara about her love of hunting as well, which will provide us additional food."

He gestured to the book and nodded. "Do read the tome , but return it to me upon finishing it, and speak not of it to Kinara. The issues addressed are of a personal nature, but I feel through her memoirs that much could be learned about her."

The monster hunter almost handed back the book with a somewhat disapproving expression. "I will not read this book without her knowledge or permission. If Kinara wishes for me to read this tome, then I will read it. I cannot meet your condition of not speaking to Kinara about it and fully intend to ask for her blessing."

Lucian paused, mulling over the possible outcomes. "Very well," he said, somewhat hesitantly. "Though, upon reading it do hope our interactions and Kinara's behavior will make more sense to you. A simple, swift summary cannot do Kinara a mote of justice, I feel. We have time before we must pack up to get back on the road, anyway. But anyways, was that all you require?" He asked, bowing courteously to the Asmeinlander.

After thinking for a moment, Herbert nodded. "That's all unless you have any issues that you feel should be addressed."

"Not at all, Ser Leintke. Though do eat hearty, the road ahead is long and I can make no guarantees of its safety from beasts and bandits," Lucian advised, bowing respectfully before the monster hunter before departing.

To Meddle in the Affairs of Dragons

And it's up

Praise Solanius

To Meddle in the Affairs of Dragons

Pad status: F U C K E D

Let me know when it rises from the ashes

To Meddle in the Affairs of Dragons

In the courtyard of the keep, Order squires had brought in a large carrier wagon with two horses to pull it. In the wagon were the trio's necessities, deliberately overstocked for the sake of being able to provide food and drink for the rest of the group not aligned with the Order. Crates of dried, salted, or smoked meats, barrels of clean water, good brew, and sacred wine, ample medicinal supplies, tools, and miscellaneous supplies made the bulk of the Order's contribution to party resources. Additionally the wagon carried their communal tent and bedding, a chest of Arums, and a chest of books, divided among the three Order officers - Sorano's tomes, Kinara's fiction, and Lucian's Holy Codex and books of common prayer. Supplemental ammunition was also stored in the cart for Kinara's usage, as the trio's markswoman.

A brief exchange was had between the Order's representatives and Herbert's party, lasting no longer but a single moment as they fell silent, focused instead on the road ahead. When all carriages were packed, and all heroes were mounted, one of the Miradorian attendants summoned the fanfare, prompting Lucian, who opted to drive his own cart, to put the horses into motion and take point, with the rest of the party following close behind.

The energy in Mirador was palpable as civilians and soldier alike flocked to see their Grandmaster as he departed from the city, singing the praises of the Gods as soldiers paraded along with the procession, escorting it out of the city. It had all felt as though it went by in a blur; before anyone knew it, the din of cheering commoners had faded, replaced by the hooves of the horses crunching along on the snow laden road...

To Meddle in the Affairs of Dragons

"Arise, O Champions of the Gods"

As the sun rose over the horizon, filling the valley of Mirador with its light, the Order of the Knights Solanian scrambled about the city and the keep; scribes researched the Father of Dragons Htraknu, soldiers rushed to Alvar's Smithy to have gear forged and repaired, and the officers and Apostles of the Order convened in the Great Hall to discuss the Order's course of action.

Grandmaster Aquila had long delivered his speech to the people of Mirador by the time the assembly began. He spoke powerfully, imploring his men and women to make ready for war, for Htraknu posed a significant cosmic threat. He spoke of the need for unity, declaring that he would reach out to the many lords and doges of the Western Kingdoms as well as the Northmen for aid. The speech concluded with morning prayers as the Order's honoured guests busied themselves in the guest chambers, packing their gear for the journey ahead, aided by the Order's squires and pages.

Within the Great Hall, Lucian had revealed Herbert Leintke's plan, that valuable information was being held by a spiteful Viarosan noble. Given the necessity of said information, and the Apostolic preference for clemency, there was not much protest to the plan to use the thief and her eastern slave-soldier to retrieve this information. Though some did resist, Apostle Kinara chief among them, the matter was put to a vote and was passed by majority of the Apostles and the officers present, to include Seneschal Hristov.

Then came the matter of what Lucian himself would be doing to lead the effort against Htraknu. It was then that the Grandmaster expressed his desire to travel with Herbert's party, to lead from the field and not from Aesernia. This naturally sparked an outcry from his devotees, who naturally all yearned to travel with him. After some time discussing the merits of each volunteer, Lucian ultimately decided on taking Apostles Sorano and Kinara with him. Sorano stood out among the Ten for his prowess in storm magic and his profound knowledge of ancient history - surely useful in the pursuit of artifacts of power, which would open the way to the Infernum and to the Kingdom-Realms of Heaven. Kinara was an outstanding archer and brutal opponent in close range. Though her shy and unassuming personality was anything but intimidating, her fierce loyalty and defensiveness of her Grandmaster made her an excellent enforcer.

In his absence, Lucian appointed Apostle Raoulin de Argenroux to serve as Acting Grandmaster in the Holy Bastion on Thysdrus, in Aesernia. Apostles Rhodric Beynon and Aranirya Silinosin were to rally and direct Order Clergy in spreading word of Htraknu's power struggle to their congregations, to make the common folk aware of the threat they faced, to urge them to do their part.

Apostles Sidon of Carinthagia and Serena Fioravanti were placed on research detail: take troops to hunt for items of interest to the Order and keep them on the move, away from Htraknu and any of his accomplices.

Apostles Yusuf Barakat, Katla Gunnulfdottir, and Alessio Barbieri were ordered to organize and command Order armies and mobilize them on Lucian's word or - in the event they did not hear from him in a certain amount of time - Raoulin's.

When it came time to begin the next phase in the Order's War with Htraknu, they would meet again in Thysdrus if possible and plan their next course of action.

The assembly concluded with a prayer for divine intercession, directly specifically to the cause of felling Htraknu and saving Thurius from his rampage. With the assembly out of the way, Lucian, Sorano, and Kinara left to pack up for the journey.

An Unorthodox Alliance

It was early; the sky beyond the walls of Mirador castle was beginning to fully brighten. The candlelit corridors deep within the fortress remained dim as always, with eerily dancing shadows bordering every pocket of soft orange glow. Erwyn crept stealthily through the hallways, unfazed by the darkness, his boots landing silently on the hard stone floor as he drew closer to his target. There were more guards in the corridors now; more Order functionaries too, so the elder vampire suspected Lucian Aquila was somewhere nearby, probably heading towards his chambers. He grimaced; he had no great desire to treat with a man like the Grandmaster - self righteous, arrogant, and sat at the head of an army of fanatics who viewed his kind with utter contempt - but these were dark times indeed, and if keeping the world from a terrible end required a temporary alliance of enemies, so be it.

Rounding a corner, the Count muttered a brief incantation in a strange and ancient tongue, his entire body seeming to flicker in and out of sight for a second before he faded from view completely, leaving nothing but a slight breeze to announce his existence. Voices echoed from the passages ahead - faint, but recognisable as Lucian and a pair of his apostles. He had heard them speak during the feast earlier, and the vampire was not one to forget such things easily. He picked up speed, flitting invisibly past the armoured guards who lined the castle's halls until he stood merely a few metres behind the Grandmaster and his companions. "Lucian Aquila," he called, his form still concealed by magic as his deep, heavily accented voice passed through the air.

To the vampire's silent surprise, he had caught the Grandmaster, his Sun Elf, and his Samothauress fully armored, coming from rather than going towards their chambers. The three stopped in their tracks, the Sun Elf turning to find nobody there. Ever the suspicious elf, his arms began to crackle with sparks of lightning as his eyes scanned the halls. "Someone's here," he said to the Grandmaster, who turned calmly around, his hand on the hilt of his bastard sword.

"Reveal thyself," he said, staring ahead. The Samothauress also turned but did not reach for her bow just yet.

Slowly, the vampire faded back into view, still whispering spells under his breath. It was a terrifying sight - hovering at least a foot off the ground, with his long coat flapping behind him, the Count's eyes seemed to glow with black light, and the shadows that surrounded him twisted and writhed as if straining to envelop the room in their monstrous darkness, sucking out all warmth and life. He smiled eerily. "As you wish, Grandmaster."

Now because this was surely an excellent way to introduce oneself, the Samothauress had drawn her bow and nocked an arrow in the blink of an eye, aiming the bodkin at the beast before them. The Grandmaster too drew his weapon, the blade sliding quickly from the scabbard, though he took a more patient approach, gesturing for his companions to hold their fire. "And I imagine the Shaitun Slayer sent for my head early? I must applaud the monster's proactiveness," he said with an amicable chuckle.

Erwyn laughed, a harsh, sinister sound that would make most men turn tail and flee - those who valued their lives, at least. The tendrils of shadow drifted closer. "So quick to assume I serve the dragon, Lucian. Who says I serve at all?"

Lucian responded to the tendrils by creating a golden glowing aura about him, the mist forming into an arrow of hard light besides him, drifting in the air. He did not move to assume a combat stance, but stood his ground with his companions where others would retreat. "Forgive me for my assumption, for it is not as though you give off a particularly friendly air."

"You've the look of a vampire out to kill, in all fairness," Sorano replied, raising his hand towards the vampire, ready to start firing if need be. "So then if you want a fight, come on and let's kill you already."

"Now, there's no need for threats if you are confident of victory," Lucian said in return. "I would give him the chance to explain himself." Turning to the vampire, he gestured for him to speak.

With a slight wave of his hand, the Count dispelled the magic that surrounded him, his boots landing firmly on the floor as the shadows retreated. He took a step closer, surveying the three holy warriors who stood before him. "You," he gestured to Sorano, "are entirely correct. A vampire, yes. Out to kill, yes." He chuckled. "Fear not though, I am sure you will not disapprove of my intended victim."

"Vague, but I've my theory," Lucian replied, nudging his companions to stand down. He sheathed his sword, and the light arrow faded into the air. "If our interests align, might I have the honour of knowing my ally's name?" He folded his arms behind his back, standing respectfully before the vampire. His companions did as ordered, the Samothauress putting her bow and the arrow away, the Sun Elf dispelling his magic.

"You cannot be considering allying with one of Lilith's?! First a thief and an easterner, next a nightstalker?" Sorano cried.

"Righteousness belongs to all, Sorano. If this man wishes to aid us in slaying Htraknu, who are we to turn him down?" Lucian explained. Facing the vampire again he bowed his head. "My apologies. To offer him a defense, it is not everyday that vampires approach us to offer aid. Would you walk with us?" He asked, stepping backwards, gesturing down the hall. "Our companions are waiting in the courtyard, and it would be uncouth to keep them waiting."

The Count nodded, stepping forward. "Of course." He paused. "Ah, yes, my name. I am Erwyn Kásimir Hendryk Szilveszter, Graaf van Amstetten-Szatmár-Bereg. Erwyn will, of course, suffice."

The trio, now a quartet, began walking down the hall towards the courtyard as Erwyn introduced himself. "Lucian Flavia Aquila, Grandmaster of the Order of Fellow-Soldiers in Solanius and the Kingdom of Heaven, Lord of Thysdrus, Son of Solanius and the Theotokos, Aurelia Aquila." He bowed his head a second time, smiling and speaking warmly to the man. "Please just call me Lucian, I try to maintain a first-name basis with my men and allies alike."

He was very clearly taking the piss out of Erwyn's titles in the same breath as he listed his own, but judging by his tone and expression he hardly meant it to be a pissing contest of any sort. "You are from Asmeinland as well, then? You may get along with Herbert and Erika yet."

"Kinara," the Samothauress said, nodding to the Vampire. Sorano remained silent, glowering at the vampire. Kinara smirked mirthfully at the elf and then looked to the Vampire. As he posed no current threat to her Grandmaster, she could afford the niceties. "The Tarraconian with a wand up his rear is Sorano Loraethal," she said, catching a glare of daggers from her friend.

"A pleasure to meet you all," replied Erwyn, nodding politely.

"Likewise," said Lucian. After that, there was a silence between the four as they marched out of the keep and into the courtyard.

To Meddle in the Affairs of Dragons

Cowritten with @Mardox and @BlondyMcHuggles

The Feast Begins
As the party entered the Keep, each of their senses were assaulted by its magnificence: the Great Hall was truly massive, with plentiful seating for the guests. Its stone interior was livened up by many banners and ribbons along the walls and windows, the latter of which let in what light was left in the sky as brilliant torches and candles illuminated the rest of the Hall. The sound of servants and knights conversing and rushing about filled their ears as they made their last rounds to put any finishing touches they could manage into place, and the songs of practicing minstrels and dancing mummers echoed throughout the chamber. The chill of the outdoors was thawed from their bodies as they noted the warmth that filled the Hall, insulated from hellish winter. Almost immediately after they stepped inside, the scent of many cooked meats, freshly baked breads and pastries, and additional indiscernible but no doubt appetizing dishes struck their noses and brought their mouths to water.

Athaliah, while not exactly happy about being in an Order stronghold, did admittedly find the keep to be remarkably beautiful. Of course, that was hardly the Order’s doing. She leaned in close to Rhiara. “They’re a bit showy, aren’t they?”
Rhiara nodded and whispered back. “You know what they say about men with big castles…” The two girls giggled as quietly as they could for longer than they should have.

As they entered the Order keep, Herbert contentedly took in the pleasant aromas of the various foods and Erika removed her furred cloak to reveal her dress. The dress in question was blue with floral patterns on the torso and brown leather at the shoulders. She then folded her cloak and handed it to a nearby servant who was taking garments at the door.

The tables were set, though food had not yet been brought out, signalling that the smell of the feast's main attraction was coming from a nearby kitchen room. At the center and towards the back of the Hall, the Great Table stood, with enough space for the Grandmaster, his followers, and several more. Upon the lord's throne, Seneschal Hristov sat, though he quickly rose with open arms and a joyous grin as he made eye contact with his Grandmaster. "My friend! It is so good to see you after so long!" he called out, stepping down from his throne to navigate around the many long tables to the Grandmaster. The two men briefly embraced with haughty laughter, and seconds later broke away.

"You've outdone yourself, Konstantin," Lucian replied, gesturing about the Hall as he looked around, soaking in the sight.

"Nonsense. Only our best for you and the Apostles, Lucian," Seneschal Hristov said, laying a hand on the Grandmaster's armored shoulder. "So, how has Narbos treated you?"

"Oh... no grand feast such as this," came the reply, "I arrived on a Sunday, we held a wonderful service, and I had the time to rally our forces in Auvergnonne against our enemy. Parties of knights have already begun scouring the Kingdom for activity relating to the outbreak of organized mauraders." He had a bit of a start, realizing who was with him at the time. "Ah, yes, our guests of honor are with us! Let's not hold them up!" With that, he brushed by Seneschal Hristov, letting him do his work.

The Seneschal of Illyrica summoned a great many attendants, who moved towards the guests with basins, pitchers, and cloth napkins, beckoning them to cleanse their hands before proceeding to the tables. The water in the pitchers was perfumed with various aromatics, certainly to prevent disease from traveling by its stench by eliminating the latter, and the water in the basins was filled with rose petals. Said attendants bore the colours of the Order, and judging by their youth (some being children) it was evident that they were squires and pages. Each guest, including Lucian and his followers, offered their hands to be cleansed before heading up to the Great Hall proper and taking their seats.

“Hey, Rhiara?” Athaliah whispered, looking suddenly embarrassed and uncomfortable. She gestured subtly around the room to people who were, by the looks of things, in their best sets of clothes. “We still need to get changed.”
“We do… Well, there’s nowhere we can change, is there?”
“I’ve not bought a dress for nothing; let’s see if we can find something.” Athaliah grabbed Rhiara’s hand and pulled her along, in search of someone to ask about this whole ordeal. Ath caught sight of an armoured figure in white and gold – the standard colours of the Order. She concluded that there was no reason not to talk to the man; after all, if he had no information then it’s not a loss.

“Erm, excuse me, sir.” She began, hoping he was at least somewhat friendly. “You wouldn’t know where my friend and I could change into our more presentable clothing, would you?”

The knight looked their way and nodded. "Why yes, certainly. Down the hall," he says, pointing to the door on the right hand side of the foyer, "To the left. There should be a door to a water closet behind the kitchen. Yeah, we recently imported a Foverosi engineer," he added, smiling and nodding. "Indoor plumbing... I digress, it should suffice. Better than changing in the kitchen in front of the staff or in one of the barracks."

“Many thanks, sir.” Ath replied with a polite nod of her head. The two girls followed the knight’s instructions, both thinking to themselves how much they owed the person who built that closet. Athaliah peeked into the room, making sure it was unoccupied. Thankfully, it wasn’t.
Rhiara looked around the small room, looking slightly saddened. “It’s a bit… tight, isn’t it?”
“Yeah…” Ath replied as she un-fastened her jerkin. “Couldn’t they have found a room with a divider or something?”
Rhiara blushed as Ath stripped down in front of her. “Do you want me to turn around, or…?”
Ath just sighed in response. “Look, it’s going to take forever if we get changed one after another. Let’s just… you know, get changed at the same time.”

Rhi and Ath emerged a little while later, wearing their dresses. Athaliah’s dress was long and dark blue, though it had small patches of lighter blue fabric giving it the look of a starry night sky. The dress hugged her waist slightly and the bustier she wore underneath accentuated her chest that bit more. Fastened around her waist was a small half-cape, with its shades of blue getting darker near the bottom. Her long black hair was tied into a braid down her back.

Rhiara’s dress had a more foreign look to it; It was strapless, dark blue with golden floral designs on the edges, and even the blue fabric itself had subtle floral patterns on it. The dress was longer on one side, ending in a point; The dress was split at the sides and the back part went down to her ankles. The fabric itself was semi-transparent, though another layer was added to the main part of the dress to make it opaque. She wore a semi-transparent black cheongsam collar around her neck and her shoulders, leaving a small part of her upper chest area open. Finally, some black lace stockings and a pair of black shoes completed the outfit.

Meanwhile, in the Great Hall, most of the guests had been seated at the numerous long-tables, and the Grandmaster, his followers, and Seneschal Hristov had gotten out of their armour and by now had taken up much of the space at the Table of Honour, leaving four seats for their guests from outside the Order.

With smiles on their faces, Herbert and Erika cleansed their hands before beginning to move towards the nearest empty seats at one of the nearby tables. To their surprise, they were quickly ushered instead to a different table by a servant who managed to be both sycophantic and rather pushy. "Right this way, Ser and Madam." Simpered the attendant. "I must insist that esteemed persons such as yourselves sit at the Table of Honor with the Grandmaster himself." Mildly bemused that they were the recipients of such attention, the couple followed and were sat by the Sun Elf and Samothaur woman from earlier.

The Sun Elf was first to notice the two, simpering at the Asmeinians as they sat down. "Oh, you're joining us at the Table of Honour? Interesting, I figured it was reserved for Apostles and the Castle Lord," he said.

The Samothauress furrowed her brow and lightly swiped at his shoulder, "Sorano, that's Herbert Leintke, you know this. He and his friends are honoured guests tonight, why wouldn't they be here?" she whispered.

"No, no, you're right. My apologies, the both of you," said the Sun Elf. "Sorano of House Loraethal, Apostle, Archaeologist, Storm Mage, and Graduate of the University of Salaminica," he said, giving a quick, courteous bow with a flourish of the wrist. "Charmed to make your acquaintances."

The Samothauress was more humble in her introductions. "I am Apostle Kinara. Of Nikidon. I think." Her confidence seemed to falter and her expression became more thoughtful and deliberate, as though she were trying (and failing) to remember something of vital importance.

Herbert gave the two a respectful nod and a polite smile while Erika smiled more warmly at both of them. The Samothauress seemed nice enough, but the Sun Elf gave a less favorable first impression. Herbert cleared his throat and introduced himself. "Herbert T. Leintke. Of Krossavik. No affiliations or titles." His introduction was casual, despite the mention of his destroyed hometown.

Once he had finished, Erika gave a similar introduction. "I am Erika Nilsson, also of Krossavik. No titles beyond that of healer. A pleasure to meet you both." She proceeded to intertwine her arm with Herbert's in a way that seemed purely affectionate - and largely was - but also disguised a small nudge to remind him to be friendlier. The monster hunter complied and adopted a more genuine smile.

Kinara's expression slowly changed into one more downcast at the mention of Krossavik, the scorched town. Her ears folded down as her smile fell. She opened her mouth to speak, but she simply couldn't force any words out, lest she touch any nerves.

Sorano seemed to sense her apprehension, and spoke on her behalf. "The pleasure is mutual for the both of us. Though the two of us agree; Krossavik was a tragedy, and we're glad to see that you survived."

"Thank you." Said Herbert, warming to the Elf somewhat. Perhaps he wasn't such a bad fellow, after all. "It's very kind of you to say that." There was a brief pause in the conversation before Erika broke the awkward silence. "Never mind the sorrows of the past, this is a joyous occasion. Though I must admit that I am not entirely sure what we are celebrating. Could you enlighten me?"

"On a more practical note, Seneschal Hristov believed a feast would be a good way of rallying our forces in Illyrica; something powerful lurks on the horizon, our priests can sense it, as can Lucian," Sorano explained, gesturing to the Grandmaster as he took his seat at the "head" of the table. Apparently his definition of "head of the table" was the centermost seat, facing the rest of the Great Hall.

"Coincidentally," Kinara interjected, "Today is the day that the Living Gods came to Thurius in corporeal form, to inhabit the Cathedrae Deorum in Aesera, when the Empire was still whole."

Athaliah and Rhiara walked up towards the two free seats beside Erika while Sorano and Kinara were speaking. They both tried to be as quiet as possible, and only spoke after Kinara had finished so they didn’t come off as rude. “Sorry for our lateness; we needed to look presentable,” Athaliah said, gesturing at her and Rhiara’s dresses.

The Krossavikings were swift to acknowledge their friends' arrival. "You look nice." Remarked Erika. Herbert, meanwhile, addressed Kinara and Sorano. "And here is the other half of our party. The lady in the Far Eastern dress is Rhiara Ludenburg and the lady in the dress from the nation of your mortal enemies is Athaliah Priscou." His tone was light-hearted as he mentioned the second woman. It was likely that he was trying to defuse any potential tension over the dress with humor.

“Thank you.” Athaliah and Rhiara replied, at the same time. They both glared at each other before laughing it off; Ath gave her friend a soft, friendly punch on the arm. Athaliah’s face fell slightly at what Herbert had said. “It’s a nice dress!” she replied defensively. “I wouldn’t expect a monster hunter like you to know anything about fashion.” She retorted in an equally light-hearted manner.

"He doesn't know anything about fashion." Chimed in Erika, cheerfully. "I'm the one who suggested his current outfit. Left to his own devices, he would likely try to wear his cloak and cuirass to feasts like this."

Herbert clapped his hand to his chest melodramatically, before speaking theatrically. "Even you, Erika? Such betrayal breaks my very heart. Whatever shall I do, when everyone around me questions my knowledge of fashion?!"

"Ah, loosen up girls, that's just the true Nord in him clawing his way out!" said the gigantic Norsidic woman from the carriage convoy, sitting on the opposite end of the table. "So what if he wants to carouse in armor, that's just as fashionable, innit, Ser Leintke?" Notably, she too was still encased in her armor. Interestingly, the Cathionic man who had earlier been draped in the fur blanket was now in more decent clothing, and had already begun sipping from a hot bowl of soup. Poor man was most definitely freezing.

"That would be Katla Gunnulfdottir," Sorano replied, leaning towards Herbert. "'Stormbreaker' they call her. Actually killed several storm atronachs and their electromancer demon summoners all with just a warhammer."

Herbert chuckled good-naturedly at the massive woman's . "I could certainly live with that fashion. I think my adoptive father Bjorn might have done that a couple of times." He raised an eyebrow towards Sorano's statement. "Surely that can't be the case. The electricity of such atronachs would cause serious harm to anyone striking them with a held weapon."

"That's the point. How do you think such an event warranted the title 'Stormbreaker?'" Sorano retorted. "I respect her as a warrior and a fellow Apostle, but I do not believe she inherited her father's brains."

The monster hunter's mouth twisted slightly as he processed this claim. He opened his mouth slightly, as if intending to offer a rebuttal, but promptly closed it with a somewhat perplexed expression. Eventually, he merely shrugged and smiled, gesturing to Erika. "They call her the Lioness, for in her ferocity, she tore apart a werewolf with only her teeth and nails."

Erika blushed slightly but smiled with amusement at Herbert. "Since when do 'they' call me that?"

Herbert grinned back cheekily. "Since now."

Sorano gave Erika a completely deadpan once-over, examining the woman, his eyes occasionally glancing towards Herbert. He opened his mouth to speak when his first word was cut short by the sound of a spoon hitting a goblet. Several times.

All eyes fell on Seneschal Hristov as he stood directly across from Sorano at the other end of the table. "Hear ye. Firstly, I see it fit to gives thanks to every man and woman who has come up to attend this gathering," he said. Almost as if on cue, attendants came in with golden ewers of wine, pouring the deep red contents into the glasses of each guest. "We are joined here in Mirador tonight by our very own Grandmaster, Lucian Aquila, Son of Solanius, and rightful Prince of Heaven, and his host of Apostles. Furthermore we are blessed to have in our company the noble Herbert Leintke, the learnéd Erika Nilsson, the valiant Rhiara Ludenburg, and the lovely Athaliah Priscou."

There was a round of raucous applause as he concluded these introductions.

Ath leaned in close to Rhiara to whisper something. “Lovely? Everyone says that, and then they spend enough time with me to see what they said wrong.”
“It’s the dress, Ath; how could anyone think you’d be anything not lovely?”
“Thanks,” she replied with a small smile.

Herbert, meanwhile, raised an eyebrow at the knight calling him noble. He liked to believe his work did good but he seriously doubted that the paladins would approve of his dirty fighting style, not to mention his occasional prayer to Dolekar. Erika, on the other hand, quietly enjoyed her recognition as a scholar.

As the applause died down, the Seneschal spoke up once more. "And as destiny would have it, we gather here today on a most auspicious occasion. A holy day celebrated across the shattered empire! Today was the Day of Manifestation, when the Living Gods descended from Heaven to live within and to guide the Aesernian Empire. In light of this, I ask that we all rise for the Benediction."

Every native guest, from peasant to soldier to nobleman, all ten of the Apostles, and Lucian himself rose from their seats. There was a period of silence, during which the Apostles and Lucian formed prayer gestures, a few of them clearing their throats, in particular the two priests.

A low, deep hum emerged from each of them, and Lucian began to "speak."

"Arise, O Gods..."

In true Church fashion, his speech was more of a melodic chant. Joined now by his Apostles and any guests who knew the words of the hymn, he continued.

"Arise, O Gods, judge Thurius... for Thou shalt have an inheritance among all the nations."

"Sol stood in the congregation of the gods, and in their midst he asked of the gods..."

"Arise, O Gods, judge Thurius... for Thou shalt have an inheritance among all the nations."

"How long have they judged righteously, in the blessed Empire of Aeser...?"

"Arise, O Gods, judge Thurius... for Thou shalt have an inheritance among all the nations."

"Judged for the orphaned and the poor; done justice to the humble and the pauper..."

"Arise, O Gods, judge Thurius... for Thou shalt have an inheritance among all the nations."

"Rescued the poor man and the needy from the hand of the sinner, and delivered him..."

"Arise, O Gods, judge Thurius... for Thou shalt have an inheritance among all the nations."

"They both know and have understood; they war with darkness; let us descend and crown Aesernia our Champion..."

"Arise, O Gods, judge Thurius... for Thou shalt have an inheritance among all the nations."

"They said: 'We their gods, do grant them the blessings of the divine, and with them, we will fight, and through them the Shaituns will fall..."

"Arise, O Gods, judge Thurius... for Thou shalt have an inheritance among all the nations."

The Hymn concluded with a long, fluid, drawn-out "Amen" as all attendees sat back down. With that, the doors to the kitchen burst open and the minstrels present in the Hall burst into song, flutes, lutes, and drums playing merrily as tabard-clad attendants brought trays of roasted meats, seasoned vegetables, fresh baked goods, and steaming soups and stews. They set about placing the trays on the wooden buffet shelf, and began serving the guests, starting with the lower tables. The bounty of food was remarkably ample, and there was certainly enough for many courses for many guests.

The first course served consisted of roast hare, stag which had been left a night in salt, stuffed chickens, and loin-cuts of beef. The latter two dishes were covered in an Asmeiner blonde sauce, served with gilt sugar-plums and pomegranate arils.

As the meat arrived, the Krossavikings contentedly helped themselves. Erika cut a slice of the stag, while Herbert opted for the beef. "You should really try the beef." Remarked the monster hunter, after taking a bite.

"I intend to." Replied Erika after chewing and swallowing a piece of venison. "Just thought I'd try the game animal first."

“Game meat is the best, in my opinion.” Said Rhiara, breaking her long silence. “it’s not so much the taste, but it’s the sense of accomplishment that comes along when it’s an animal you hunted yourself. It feels like I’ve done something, you know?”

Erika smiled and nodded. "I can certainly understand that. Do you do a lot of hunting? I do some every now and then. Herb also sometimes brings home something he's killed for dinner."

Rhiara nodded her head. “I hunt with my dad every week, I think I mentioned that? It’s the only real source of income my family gets, but we make do. About a quarter of the food that people in Hoffen eat is because of me and dad; I’m very proud of it.”

Erika's eyes widened in surprise. "That's rather impressive. I mostly do it recreationally instead of on a large scale. Do you mostly hunt small game or larger animals? Myself, I primarily go after deer and the like."

“We try to go after big game like deer, but it takes a while bringing a corpse that big to town. On a good day, we can maybe get three or four deer if we do it all day, back and forth.” Rhiara just shrugged her shoulders casually. “Me personally, though, I go for rabbits in addition to the deer – they’re easy to carry and you can hold onto a few at a time.”

"Ah." Said Erika. "I just go for one deer normally and I tend not to go for rabbits since they're small and they have a tendency to vanish into little hiding places when I draw near. I take it that hunting is how you learned to use a bow?"

“In a manner of speaking, yes. You see, my dad’s father was a hunter, as was his father and it goes on for generations. It was only the firstborn man of the family that would go hunting with his father, but I’m an only child so my dad had to make do, essentially.” She shook her head and clicked her tongue. “That’s not the answer you wanted, sorry.” She said sheepishly. “But yes, the only reason I can use a bow is because of the hunting. I think I knew my way around a bow before I could even run – at least, that’s what mum says.”

"I was an only child as well." Remarked Erika. "Though neither of my parents really had a trade that had been passed down through the generations. My father was an undertaker before he met my mother and served in the town guard after that. My mother also served in the defense of the town."

Rhiara struggled to think about what to say next, as she knew how well defending the town went for them. Athaliah might have joined the conversation if she weren’t talking to somebody else. “Didn’t you ever feel like they might have forced you into the same profession if they had the chance? I feel like my family did to me, to some extent but I couldn’t bring myself to disappoint them. That’s not to say I don’t like it now, but who knows where I’d be if I wasn’t a hunter.”

"Not really." Replied Erika. "My mother simply joined that profession due to her natural skills and my father joined because the town no longer needed an undertaker and the town guard was hiring. I thought you were a carpenter, though?"

“Well, I am…” Rhiara confirmed. “But what I meant was, everything in my life has been defined by hunting; even my woodcarving hobby came about when I chopped up bits of wood for a fire one day.”

"I understand. What kind of things do you normally carve?" Inquired Erika. "I do a bit of drawing, myself."

---

Most of the Apostles opted to talk amongst themselves, given the majority were on the other end of the Great Table, and talking across the table simply wasn't convenient. Sorano kept up a conversation with Grandmaster Lucian - from the bits and pieces that Herbert and his companions picked up on, it seemed to be a discussion of ancient Savarian ruins and pre-Flame eastern theology.

Apostle Kinara, on the other hand, had been engaged in a conversation with Athaliah.

“So, you’re a bow woman, huh?” Athaliah said thoughtfully. “How good are you with a blade, though? If someone gets up close to you and you can’t fight back well, you’ll die. It’s as simple as that.”

"Well, I am skilled with a mace or battle hammer with a buckler. It's good at crushing armour when arrows don't pierce," Kinara replied. "The balancing and techniques of swords are different, and I find myself just a bit less skilled with the blades than the blunts. What about yourself?" she gave the human a genuine smile, pleased to be socializing with people from outside the Order, it appeared.

“I’m more of a blades girl myself,” Athaliah shrugged. “I’ve never seen the value of blunt weapons in combat, if I have to be completely honest with you. They’re too heavy - in my opinion - and if you’re fighting several people, it’s over. No offence, by the way. If it works for you, keep at it.”

"Well, I think you underestimate my strength," Kinara replied with a smirk, "If I were using a maul or warhammer, weight would be an issue indeed. I'm unarmed now, so I cannot show you, but it's a flanged mace, good for striking plate armor, excellent for battering Great Helmets, especially on the flat top," she added, poking the crown of her head. "Rarely do I need to be so close as to use the mace as it stands, though, but I will keep this in mind - my buckler should aid me in multiple enemy combat at least, no?"

Athaliah nodded as the cowgirl spoke. “So, you prefer fighting on your own, I take it? I prefer fighting as part of a formation; there’s something special about being shoulder-to-shoulder with the men and women you’re fighting with. We all come together as one,” Athaliah entwined her fingers with each other, “and I love that. I know people are watching my back, and they know the others and I are watching theirs.”

"Formation fighting is good, but in the event such a formation is broken and you must fight alone, how do you go about doing it? Do you have any sidearms, like the phalanxes and cataphracts in Foveros have? Small swords or axes when you can't use your spear and shield?" she asked Athaliah.

“I carry a sword, just in case.” Ath replied. “In the militia that I’m part of, everyone who is part of a shield wall has to not only be able to use a spear and shield, but a sword and shield too. In my experience, the phalanxes that I’ve been part of have never broken because we only face small groups of bandits who’d rather run than fight us. If we fought orcs or something, well, that would probably be different.” Ath stroked her chin. “What made you choose archery, anyway?”

Kinara paused, tapping her chin thoughtfully. When she had sufficiently considered her response, she looked at Athaliah and replied, "I chose to be an archer because I fell in love with hunting. Being alone -- or among those I trust -- out in nature is soothing to me. Being the hunter, earning my own keep is empowering. And as it happens, through the Blessing of Veturia placed upon my people, I can control the winds to a degree. It helps me to aim and to curve the path my arrows fly. Not to mention," she explained, flexing her arm for emphasis, "I am stronger than most; more draw power, deadlier arrows. It all just fits, I suppose."

“Hmm… maybe you could teach Weiss some things.” She saw the look of slight confusion on Kinara’s face. “Oh, Weiss is Rhiara. You know, white hair. Anyway, she’s just so squishy; could do with a bit more muscle, ya know? That sounds like an insult, doesn’t it? I mean, it isn’t. It’s kind of cute. But still…”

Kinara chuckled at Athaliah's attempt at damage control. "If you want somebody to turn her into a block of muscle, speak to Katla," she said, nodding to the half-giant, who laughed and proudly flexed her arms. "Though I suppose I could teach her things about the bow and arrow. I'd like that," she added, smiling at Athaliah as she stabbed a slice of the stuffed chicken and put it in her mouth.

“Well, there might be some time in the morning before we have to be going back home, if you’re really offering. And if she agrees, that is.” She looked over to her friend, who was busy chatting away with Erika. “I’ll ask her later.” She returned her attention solely to Kinara. “So, what is it you do in your free time, then? You can’t hunt all the time, surely.”

"Well, ever since I learned to read I've enjoyed literature," the Samothauress replied. "Rhodric and Aranirya insist that I put my literacy to use reading the Holy Codex, and I do, don't misinterpret me, but for entertainment I much prefer the works of the Avidii. I've been a fool for tales of heroism and romance ever since I picked up Sidonius Avidius's The Argent Voyage." She smiled half-nervously, as though embarrassed by her taste in literature.

Ath gave out a small ‘hmm’ and nodded. “I read it once, but it wasn’t really my kind of thing. I like adventure books, I like romance books occasionally, but blended together? Nah; they’re usually not done very well in my opinion. It’s pretty hard getting hold of any books though, unfortunately. Hoffen is a pretty… uh, isolated place.”

"Oh, that's quite alright," Kinara replied, "Not many copies of the classics are in circulation these days anyways. Much of them are handwritten in the temples and monasteries. I suppose what they lack in speed and quantity, they make up for in sheer beauty. I've even got an Argenreaux copy of Li Desfaires. Lucian gave it to me himself. It's a beautiful tale, if not tragic," Kinara said. She was visibly enthused to be carrying on the conversation, especially with another literate.

“The language is too flowery for me, but I suppose it did its job well enough.” Ath replied, somewhat enjoying the conversation herself, even if they disagreed on a couple of points. “One of my favourite books is ‘The Lion and the Tiger’; I don’t think it’s the most well-known pieces of work, but I’m sure someone as into reading as you might have at least heard of it?”

Kinara smiled, her tail flicking about and her ears folding downwards. She wasn't sure how to respond to that verbally, but something about this human's tastes in literature irritated her. It wasn't anything to fight over, though, to each their own, but she vastly preferred the original telling of that story; Petronius and Philyra.

“You disagree.” Athaliah said blankly, with a shrug. “What don’t you like about it?”

Kinara's smile faded and her eyes widened, her expression becoming more regretful, as though she had been caught doing something wrong. "Well, I..." she paused, trying to think through what she had to say. She had been doing so well as it was socializing, better than she usually did with outsiders, and she hardly wanted to jeopardize it or alienate the guests. "I mean, I like it, but I can't say it's nearly as good as the original story it's based off of. I appreciate the author's use of hubris and dramatic irony, but..."

"The leads are too perfect," Sorano interjected (to Kinara's chagrin), "or, rather, the lesbian author insists that her lesbian protagonists are perfect victims who did no wrong or harm. Meanwhile every character that disagrees with the protagonists, regarding their single-track-minded motivation to simply get married, gets utterly fucked by the end of the play, either by their own hubris which admittedly was well designed, or by the machinations of the lead characters -- who again 'did no wrong or harm.' It comes across as the publicized sexual fantasies of the author, in which designated 'victims' prosper while their critics burn."

Kinara shrugged passively, a bit miffed that Sorano had gone and interrupted her, but ultimately agreeing with his description. "He's not mostly wrong..."

Athaliah nodded at some points of the elf’s rant, but shook her head at others. “No, no, no. I’d like to say that the leads aren’t perfect, first of all. They act out of love for each other more than anything, which is far from perfect. They were naïve to believe that their fathers would actually keep their words about having peace with the other side. Plus, they don’t prosper, by the end, at all; Acacia and Estana are both wrecks because of their families destroying each other, and they only have each other for comfort early on. Besides,” Ath shrugged. “love makes people do stupid things.”

"It was naïve to believe a homosexual marriage was legally binding to begin with, given the lack of heirs. Their fathers merely sought to exploit this by placating their daughters, whom were getting in the way of each others' conquest. As sick as it is to play with people's emotions, it was fair and legal play," Sorano continued.

"She's absolutely right about the flaws of the characters, though," Kinara retorted. She flashed him an irritated look, silently gesturing for him to politely fuck off. Turning back to Athaliah, she replied to the human, "I understand the motivations and actions of the characters, and I think the playwrightess did marvelously, but it just simply doesn't hold up as a tragedy the way Petronius and Philyra does in my opinion."

“I agree; they’re really completely different stories.” Athaliah nodded. “Petronius and Philyra is great for what it is – a tragedy. Meanwhile, the Lion and the Tiger plays with multiple genres at once. In my opinion, the tragedy is as good as in Petronius and Philyra, but you disagree, others probably do, that’s fine. The action in the book is second to none, as well; you truly get a sense of scale in the great battle scene, for instance.”

"The Battle Scene translates terribly to the stage though," Kinara said with an amused chuckle, "Act III is as good as it gets for on-stage fighting. With all the extras playing fighting soldiers on stage, you really get a feeling for how chaotic the Fall of Messerae was. And I think that playing with multiple genres only serves to confuse the audience; should they laugh, cry, scream, boo, cheer? Petronius and Philyra focuses on being a tragic romance, and does it well every time it's played. A pity it's so rare, you'd be hard pressed to find a theatre in all of the Western Kingdoms that puts it on. Despite the romanticism of events, it accurately portrays the tension between the Foverosian humans and Samothaurs of Messerae before and during the War of Samothracian Secession, and because of that, I think it makes the love between Petronius and Philyra all the more genuine and bittersweet."

“I think it’s to do with how it’s shown. To properly appreciate the Lion and the Tiger, you have to read it, on your own. Or, at least, I assume so. I’ve never been to a theatre before. Besides, can you imagine cramming thirteen thousand men onto a stage? It’d be chaos.” Ath gave out a small giggle. “Anyway. There’s another reason why I like the book."

"And what would that be?" Kinara curiously asked.

“Uh…” Athaliah began, her cheeks going pink. “You know… It’s… Damn, I thought I’d have an answer ready. I… like someone. Like like.”

Sorano had been quietly listening in, and upon hearing this shot the Foverosi a curious albeit unamused glance. What truly caught his attention however was the fact that Kinara herself was blushing. "Well, that's one thing we've in common," she meekly replied.

To Meddle in the Affairs of Dragons

Cowritten by @Mardox

The Grandmaster Arrives

The four travellers found themselves walking through the tight streets of Mirador, which had an almost pristine white sheet over them as a result of the snowfall. As much as the group would have preferred staying in the carriage, especially for the uphill journey still to come, they had to leave the wagon and horse at the stables – at the entrance to the town. The snow crunched under their feet as they walked.

Their trek mostly passed by in silence, save for Athaliah’s occasional complaints about the placement of the stables or the upcoming hill. “Hey, Herb? Erika?” Rhiara said, sounding slightly uneasy. “After this feast we’re going our separate ways, aren’t we?”

"I guess so." Said Herbert with a shrug. "If you like, we can stay with you until you're back in Hoffen. Especially if you don't feel safe on the roads, it seems they've gotten worse lately. Why do you ask?"

Rhiara began fiddling with her own hands. “Well… it’s just that I’ve got used to the company of you two, is all. Ath might not say it, but she has too. What I’m trying to say is that I feel like I’ve made some good friends on this journey, and that’s not something I’d thought would happen.”
“I can hear all of that,” Athaliah patted her friend on her shoulder. “Let’s not be so glum, eh Rhi? We came here to have fun and a feast, and that’s exactly what we’re going to do.”

"Oh." Said Herbert with surprise. "Well, I've enjoyed your company as well, and would be happy to call the two of you friends. I'm sure Erika and I could visit you in Hoffen sometime." He looked to Erika, who had donned a large, furry cloak over her party dress. Erika nodded. "I'd certainly like that. Is there any particular time you'd like to see us again?"

“Whenever is convenient for you two.” Athaliah replied. The group were now making their way up the hill towards the keep. “We like you two a lot, but you should think about your own lives before seeing us.” Rhiara nodded in agreement. “If you ever decide to visit, the end of a month is a good time; we usually have little going on at that time.”

Erika nodded. "The end of the month sounds good, though it might not be the best time when the full moon starts coinciding with it. Business tends to pick up for the both of us around then. Feel free to swing by Viarosa sometime. Chances are that I'll be around and Herb is around whenever he can be. If not, you could always meet the others from Krossavik."

“They’re in Viarosa too?” Rhiara said, clearly surprised. “I suppose you’re all close, then?”

"Oh yes," replied Erika, "we're as close as family. After the dragon attacked, it was agreed that we should stick together. Just tell them you're friends with Herbert and me."

The four finally found themselves facing the doors of the keep. “So… do we just walk in?” Rhiara asked uncertainly. Athaliah shrugged. “That’s what the guards at the main gate said.”

“Do any of you want to go first? You know how I am with new people. What if a paladin talks to me and makes me represent the group?” she was getting worried, clearly, and she was also concerned that Herbert and Erika would feel like they were being thrown into the deep end. Really, Rhiara felt that one of them would actually be the best choice.

"I'll go first." Volunteered Herbert to put an end to the purple-eyed girl's anxiety. "I don't mind representing the group to any chatty paladins." With that, he stepped forward and moved to open the door.

Just as they approached the doors to the great hall, they both swung open wide, revealing one of the many knights of the Order. He froze in place, looking Herbert over for a moment. Eyeing the monster-hunter from head to toe, he nodded to him and said, "Aye, you match Captain Jorleifsson's description alright. I take it you are Herbert Leintke?"

"That I am." Replied Herbert. "With me are Rhiara Ludenburg, our friend Athaliah Priscou and my beloved, Erika Nilsson." He gestured to each of the women in turn. "May we come in?"

"Well absolutely, I was just on my way to come escort you folks into the keep anyways," the man said with a hearty laugh. "Right this w-"

As he spoke, he was cut off by the sound of roaring fanfare echoing through the valley. Brass and percussion alike signalled the arrival of the chief guests of honour. Behind Herbert and his party, further back in the courtyard, a convoy of carriages came moving up towards the fountain in the center of the keep's yard. Behind the carriages (and to some extent, besides them), a horde of townspeople and knights had congregated, applause and vocal prayers and hymns being said and sung, all melting into barely more than white noise.

Erika swiftly and skillfully guided the group out of the newcomers' way. "Let's give the bigshots their fancy entrance, shall we?"

“Fashionably late to their own feast, huh?” Athaliah muttered. “If I was fashionably late for my dinner, mother would have gone mad. You know the Orc berserkers they tell tales about? They have nothing on my mum.”

The four of them watched from the side as the convoy approached, curious as to who or what all the fuss might be about. Each carriage was identical to the others, keeping the exact position of the most valuable individual within the convoy a mystery. Trusted soldiers of the Order approached each carriage and opened their doors. From the first in the convoy, two humans, one an darker-skinned Aesernian, the other, Bryonic (Narbosi, from his ebony locks, for shades of brown, blonde and red characterized Bryons from the Island). The Bryonic fellow stepped out of the carriage first, dressed in rather heavy looking steel plate armor, addressing the crowds with a wave. He was followed by his Aesernian companion who carried over his shoulder a sizable sack, possibly filled with personal belongings.

From the third carriage, three individuals stepped out onto the snowy ground, one at a time. First, another Bryonic, this one very clearly from Cainleath, going from his cinnamon red hair. He and the Sun Elf woman to his right wore similar, flowing white robes, trimmed with a gold coloured fabric. Priests, from the looks of it. To the human's left, an Aesernian woman of diminutive stature with a small trunk strapped to her back. The lass was stronger than her tiny frame let on. Each lifted their hands up, humbly waving to the commoners and soldiers alike as a line of troops formed to keep the tide of people away from these apparently important individuals.

First in the convoy, three additional people exited their carriage, hailing the cheering crowds delightedly. The first two had the tell-tale dark brown skin of Cathionic humans, though the lightly armored fellow to the far left of the trio was much lighter in complexion. Between them stood a towering, muscular, fair-skinned and fair-haired woman clad in a suit of steel armor, not dissimilar from the Narbosian's. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that she was a Daughter of Osland, though her sheer size would inevitably lead the more imaginative to assume she was also a daughter of a giant, whether halfling or pure - more likely the former.

And finally, last in the line of carriages, appearing to be tightly packed as the door opened up, out stepped a Sun Elf in dark azure robes. He smiled confidently at the crowds and turned to help another Cathionic human out of the wagon. Notably, he was draped in a thick and fluffy blanket, his bare feet hitting the snow hesitantly. Patting the man on the shoulder, he summoned over a knight and muttered something to him; likely a command to take the nearly nude man into the keep. With him out of the way he turned back to the crowds and waved, smoothing the front of his robes. He looked to be a lithe elf, not the type one would assume to be a warrior of any sort, though if he didn't look to be clergy, he may well be a mage. Which was likely, as his people had a strong natural affinity for magic. He seemed to be the most well groomed of the group of people that had made their appearance this evening, his sun-gold hair and skin equally immaculate, not a speck of dirt on him. Rather out of place given the time and circumstances. Though he did seem to have smudged something on his robe, perhaps wine or the filling of some pastry, and if one were notably good at reading individuals, the elf was slightly distressed over the matter, as calmly as he tried to present himself. Quintessential elf...

Then from the carriage, a Samothaur stepped out onto the snow, smiling faintly at the crowd as she turned back around to face the open door of the carriage. She was an unusual sight to say the least, as the Samothaurs were a fiercely xenophobic people with a long history of being a popular choice among slavers of all races to capture and sell to the pompous Shadow Elven lords of the North or the brutal Orcish warlords that roamed the Northern Plains and Southern Deserts. She had a strong, yet plump, stocky physique under the layers of gambeson and mail that served as lightweight and effective protection from most weapons from close or long range. Given the powerful bow strapped around her and the quiver stuffed full of bodkin arrows, she appeared to be an archer.

The clamour of the peasants and knights alike seemed to boom ever more thunderously as the last person to exit the carriages made his appearance. A tall, strong human in ornate steel plate stepped out onto the snow, holding his helmet under his arm. He was Aesernian by most of his features, in particular his sun-kissed complexion and slightly aquiline, narrow nose. Yet his oddly golden hair and cerulean eyes -- much more at home on a Nord's head than an Aesernian's -- would muddle most preconceptions as to his heritage. He smiled warmly to the people frantically pushing against the line of guards. He approached the guards slowly, gesturing for them to stand aside.

In an unexpected orderly, quiet fashion, he reached out to those close to him, mumbling prayers in High Aesernian, misty particles and sparks of golden light dancing about his hands and digits. Arms reached out for him, the occasional outstretched hand brushing past his cloak and armor. "It it good to see all of you," he clearly stated, switching back to the common tongue of Low Aesernian. He looked up and around the courtyard as the snow fluttered to the ground around him. "It's just as I remember it all." Looking back to the people who had gathered before him, he nodded and added, "Come, out of the frost and into the Keep, and may the common eat as royalty." He stepped away, adjusted his cloak, gestured to his close followers who had disembarked from the four carriages, and took point, moving towards the Keep and towards Herbert and his party.

The pair from Krossavik watched the procession with moderate interest, blinking in confusion as the nearly naked Cathionic exited one of the carriages. As the man's bare feet hit the snow, Herbert quietly murmured in Erika's ear. "I now remember why we normally avoid the Order. Folks as devout as them are completely and utterly mad. I mean sure, we offer the odd prayer, but I don't think either of us would walk barefoot in the snow for our faith."

Erika gave a stifled snort of laughter. "I don't think that's why he's barefoot." She whispered back. "He's probably just some beggar they found and took pity on." The healer paused. "Then again, some folks can find anything in religious texts if they look for long enough."

The couple hushed and fixed more serious expressions as the Aesernian man approached. Once he had drawn nearer, Herbert gave him a respectful nod and Erika gave a quick curtsy. Neither bowed, though they were uncertain if that was a form of address expected by the man. Herbert watched very closely as the light danced around the Aesernian's hands. It was clearly magic and that meant that something was not as it appeared. The man didn't appear to be a Solymic, so that left three options for where his magic was coming from. The first and probably least alarming possibility was that the man was a magical creature in human form or at least part magical creature like Erika. The second possibility with moderate alarm was that this man was willing to expend blood for a parlour trick. The final and likely most damning possibility was that the man had made some sort of bargain for his power or otherwise earned the favor of an entity that could grant it to him.

Keeping these possibilities in mind, Herbert idly let his hands drift down near the hilts of his swords. He took great care not to actually touch them, it would be the height of folly to display hostility regardless of whether this man meant to do harm. If this strange golden man didn't mean the four of them harm, there was no point in offending his hosts. If the golden man did mean harm, it simply wouldn't do to let him know that Herbert was onto him. The scarred traveller lightly drummed his fingers against his thigh. To the overwhelming majority of folk, it would have been a meaningless display of energy and possibly impatience. Erika, however, knew exactly what it meant. It was a signal they had made up to subtly communicate to one another if they suspected danger.

The Aesernian and his ten companions stopped short of the Keep, just before Herbert, Erika, Athaliah, and Rhiara. The accompanying crowd and guards stopped a short distance away from the fifteen warriors. The golden-haired Aesernian took a moment to size Herbert up before offering his hand with a smile, displaying his teeth. "Ah, yes, I don't believe we've met, but I've heard so much about you, Ser Leintke!" he said. "My name is Lucian Aquila."

Up close, he looked nothing like the countless rumours portrayed him to be. Neither was he a towering, brutish, scarred-up titan in his middle years, nor was he a wizened, bearded sage. In fact, he looked to be still well into his youth, and had only a modest stubble on his face - hardly worth calling a beard. Or at least, not a beard as large and full as those on Nordic men.

Herbert accepted Lucian's hand and shook it with a polite smile. "I've heard a great deal about you as well, Ser Aquila. However, I must admit that a sizable amount - if not most - of it is no doubt untrue. Perhaps you could clarify what is fact and what is fiction in regard to yourself?" He'd heard of Lucian Aquila and relaxed a little to hear the name. At the very least, they would be safer due to the man's need to maintain his reputation. The origins of his magic were still unclear, however. If anything, they were further muddied by the rumors surrounding the Grandmaster of the Order. Why, some folk even believed he was the son of Solanius.

The Grandmaster shrugged casually. "Why certainly. You can ask me anything once we're all inside. We'll have plenty to discuss over the feast, I would imagine," he replied. He turned to Rhiara and offered his hand to her. "If it isn't Ms. Ludenburg. Quartermaster Alvar wouldn't stop about how you and Herbert slayed that basilisk; word traveled quickly, and I just had to meet you all."

Rhiara shook he Grandmaster’s hand, somewhat softly. Everything about her stance, from her crossed legs to her fiddling with her clothes, screamed ‘not confident.’ “It’s nice to meet you, Grandmaster Aquila.”

"Come now, no need to be shy. It's an honour to meet you both, and -- oh, I beg your pardon, I can't say I'm familiar with your companions?" Lucian said to both Herbert and Rhiara.

“My name is Athaliah Priscou, Grandmaster.” In contrast to Rhiara, Athaliah looked more confident than one might have expected; she held her arms behind her back, stood as straight as she could and she looked the Grandmaster in the eyes. “I’m Rhiara’s best friend.”

"Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Priscou," came the reply.

Herbert's smile was more genuine now as he introduced Erika. "This is my beloved, Erika Nilsson. Since we've brought up slaying beasts, she once slew a werewolf in unarmed combat." Erika blushed somewhat at that and objected slightly. "That's only techically true and that was with you fighting it, using silvered weapons and magic." With no weapons or armor and bundled up in her furred cloak, she certainly didn't look particularly dangerous. In fact, the more chivalrous-minded might have worried for her safety if she traveled the roads alone.

"Is that so? I'm eager to hear more of the tale, then!" Lucian said with a warmhearted, genuine laugh. "After you, my newfound friends," he added, bowing respectfully to Herbert and his companions. The fifteen warriors began moving to the Keep again, followed by those soldiers and commoners who sought to join the feast.

The Samothauress accompanying Lucian leaned towards Herbert's party to speak to them in a hushed voice. "You wouldn't happen to have seen a scarlet-haired woman in bard's clothing and a Furusiyya in your travels, have you?" she asked, a touch meekly, "That poor man in the blanket was robbed blind and left to walk to civilization in the snow when we chanced upon him. Says his father's lute was taken, too."

Erika shook her head. "The only criminals we came across on our way here were the sort no sane woman would willingly keep company with, and even that mad faith of the East would demand better behavior. We'll keep an eye out though. That sounds like a rather distinct pair, and if they would leave a man naked in the winter, they should be caught."

"Absolutely," said the Sun Elf to Lucian's right. "And if they're dressed as a bard en route to Mirador, no doubt they're here to steal Seneschal Hristov's belongings. I recommend you keep a firm hand on your coin purses until we find the two and sever their fingers from their hands."