Spirits of the Earth

(((@Elekta Kount / @Draconian )))



   Siro eyed her sister, Sharon, warily. She could always tell now when Sharon was about to do something dangerous. Or terrible. Or both.
   They both sat at the outside table, the morning sun partially obscured by clouds. The smell of fresh and cooked meat about them from the butcher's shop. Over the past two months, they'd come here so often that Sharon had gotten to know the butcher and his wife. Bought the most expensive meals they had to offer. She had made a lot of money doing something on that long trip to Cerenis in Serendipity. But she never said what.
   Sharon ate her eggs and bacon quickly. Siro had barely touched her own plate.
   And Sharon noticed. "What's the matter? Not hungry?"
   "Just tell me."
   Sharon chewed a bit more slowly. Blinked. Pretended. "Tell you what?"
   "What you're going to do today."
   Sharon swallowed. Glanced around them. At the people walking up and down the street. It was that face that Siro had come to recognize. The look laden with guilt and tension. As if even strangers knew her darkest secrets. As if they were all accusing her.
   Sharon pushed her plate away. Wiped her mouth. Spoke slowly. "I just have a big day today. An important job to do. That's all. Nothing to be worried about."
   "You should tell yourself that."
   Sharon froze for a second. Siro didn't mean to hurt her sister, but she needed to know.
   "What do you want from me?" Sharon said. Almost a whisper.
   "The truth. Please."
   "Okay..."
   "Nana wouldn't tell me what you did in Cerenis."
   "Siro..."
   "Did you kill someone?"
   A moment of dead quiet between them. The people passing on the street. The light commotion of the early morning. The hiss of meat being cooked in the butcher's shop.
   Siro eyed her sister with a hard determination. Saw in her eyes that she desperately wanted to lie again. Struggled, knowing she couldn't.
   "Yes," Sharon said.
   "Why?"
   "Because he was an evil man. And he deserved to die for what he did."
   "What did he do?"
   A brief look of fear. And Sharon shook her head slowly. "I can't tell you that."
   Silence stole their voices once more.
   Siro looked down to her feet. Dangling just above the ground as she sat. "Are you going to kill someone today?"
   "Maybe."
   "Why? Why do you have to do this?"
   "Because..." Sharon hesitated. "Because sometimes, to do some good in the world, some real good...you have to do something bad first."


   Sharon dropped Siro off at Charles and Merissa's house with Niko. Charles himself was at work in Earnhardt's estate. He had been working almost every day and night in the two months since Mr. Deegan's death in Cerenis. Mr. Winters was almost finished appropriating all of his old rival's territory, but there were still jobs to be done. Charles didn't need Sharon or Jorge today, so the time was right for this.
   Sharon followed Merissa to the meeting spot. An inn, named Reajh's Finest. A normal, unassuming inn on the outside, but built with thick walls to all but obscure and mask sounds and voices within. A traveler could spend the night here and never even know of the illicit meetings and deals that happened in the rooms within. Merissa had used this inn herself back in her days as a full-time thief and operative for Mr. Winters. She knew it well.
   It was here that Merissa put out the word on Sharon's behalf. The word of a job: Clandestine professional wanted. Bodyguard work, perhaps more. Experience versus magic preferred.
   And it was time to find out if any such professionals answered the call.

   They stood beside the front door of Reajh's Finest. Looked inconspicuous. Watched the people on the street. Waited to see if any of them broke off from the crowd and started for the inn.
   "What do you know about him? This...sorcerer?" Sharon asked.
   Merissa held a hand over her mouth as she chuckled. "Oh. Strathus? Why, he's a fine gentleman, of course."
   "I'd rather you not be facetious right now."
   Merissa laid a hand on Sharon's shoulder. "You mustn't be so nervous, Sharon. There's only the slightest probability that he'll incinerate all of us on sight. And I'm feeling lucky today."
   Sharon narrowed her eyes. Took in an unsteady breath. She hated mages. Hated them. But she'd seen something worse in Cerenis. Something she knew she could fight. But in order to do that, to carry out the plan she had come up with, she needed to make a deal with one.
   So be it.
   "And this sorcerer, Strathus..." Sharon lowered her voice. "Are you sure he can do what I need him to do?"
   Merissa smiled. "Well, my dear, that's not for me to say. That's for you to hope for."

One figure stood out of the crowed like a sore thumb....well there were really two people in the party, but the bigger, much more older looking gentlmen in plate mail with a heater shield strap to his arm and a great mace on his shoulder called the attention of most passerbers. Many of them would have at least seen him once in their life time... the man was an old veteran of the Connoloath army, a man who had marched in and out of the massive gates protecting the capital more times then most people could count.

Standing next to him was a less remarkable fellow. He was wearing a rather bulky overcoat and a red scarf concealed his face. But overall there were nothing much to special about this other many, other then the fact that he was with the man with the booming laughter.

If one would notice the large man, and why wouldn't they? They would know he was laughing with his companion, before he pointed out the Reajh's Finest to what seemed to be his companion, who only gave a faint nod.

The two then made their way there, the man in the overcoat kept his hands in his coat pockets while the bigger man swung  his shield arm as he went, humming an old marching tune.

As they reached the bar, the bigger man slammed open the door and gave a loud greetings. Some commotion was heard inside, before the two figures disappeared into the inn.

   There wouldn't be too many people going into the inn. Not at this time of day. So the armored man and his overcoat-clad friend did indeed stick out. Neither Sharon nor Merissa paid them any attention as they entered.
   A few moments after they were gone, Sharon glanced to Merissa. "Was that them?"
   "Seemed promising. Wouldn't you say?"
   Merissa gestured her head toward the front door. Headed inside, and Sharon followed.
   A small lobby area that opened up into the bar on the left. The stairs leading up to the rooms on the second floor to the right. Merissa walked forward, up to the innkeeper. Asked him a question. He nodded. Merissa turned back around and walked back to Sharon, a big smile on her face.
   "Let's go have a chat with our new friends. Shall we?"
   With that, Merissa led the way into the bar. A large room with a number of tables, accommodating for both inn patrons and passersby who fancied a quick drink or a social environment. Natural light poured in from the big windows on the far wall.
   A surprisingly lively atmosphere, made even more so by the entrance of the armored man and his friend. Some of the inn patrons and day-drinkers seemed to know one or both of them. Still, even the bar dwellers who paid them no heed conversed and laughed and joked among themselves. And for such an early hour, the bartender was kept quite busy.
   Sharon eyed everyone warily, her right hand resting idly on her holstered pistol, much like a gunslinger. She was very much on edge. And not just about confronting one of her worst fears, coming face-to-face with another mage. It was the tremendous risk and danger of her plan. Her gambit. How one mistake could immediately spell the end for both herself and Siro. Merissa was oddly nonplussed about the whole situation, yet none of that confidence and nonchalance had rubbed off on Sharon.
   Merissa waited, and Sharon stood by her side. They waited for the commotion to die down, for most of the eyes in the bar to wander elsewhere. Only after attention had drifted and the two men had gotten settled did Merissa walk forward with Sharon in tow.
   Merissa eyed them both. Smiled. Said, "Good day, gentlemen. I realize this may seem quite forward of me, but, might I be so bold as to ask you two what has brought you to the Finest today? A drink? Some rest? Or perhaps business?"
   Sharon watched them both. The red-scarfed man more than the armored one. He reminded her of Jorge with the mask on. A wild card, like Jorge. Maybe.

The armored man had been talking with the bartender with a mug on the counter when Merissa came up to him. His companion was still facing forward, holding a mug with two hands. He only took a minute to glance back to Merissa, before he kept staring forward.

The people who had recognized the man in the overcoat had hastily went back to their business, pretending as if nothing was happening.

"Why, lassy, I'd say to all of the above." The big armored man said. He had an eyepatch and although his hair was all grey he had a real finally groomed mustache. "What's it to you?"

   Sharon focused more on the overcoat man with the scarf. Noticed the way some of the people in the inn's bar behaved in his presence. He had a reputation of some sort. And she didn't like it. He could be hiding something.
   "Oh my, what a coincidence," Merissa said to the armored man. "While my friend and I don't quite have the time for drinks and rest, we are here for business."
   Merissa extended a small, lithe hand to him. Glanced at Sharon. And Sharon lifted her hand off her pistol and extended hers as well.
   "Merissa. And this is Sharon. Well, dear, a little bird told me that perhaps you and your friend here were interested in a job that called for clandestine professionals. A bodyguard job. Does this sound familiar to you?"
   Sharon awaited the big man's answer, biting on her bottom lip inside her closed mouth. This was the most uncertain part. Making contact with the sellswords. For all Sharon knew, they might not be sellswords at all, but Reajh authorities instead. They could actually be the sellswords she needed, but with ulterior motives. They could be anyone.
   The future was always decided on small moments like these.

"The name's Volkhard, and silent here is called Otto." The big man said with a smile, however for some reason he lowered his voice when he got to Otto's name. "I see you've noticed him, despite his inability to talk. See he's tongue was cursed by a mage..."

He only kept a straight face for a minute, Otto gave the big man a questionable look, before the big man started snorting. "Only joking lassy. Nah, Otto is not much of a talker but when he warms up ta ya he can have quite the opinion. Ain't that right laddy?"

Volkhard gave Otto a slught punch, which only caused Otto to shake his head as he rocked side ways, before he continued to stare st the wall and sipping out of the mug.

"Back to the point, what were we talking about?" The big man as he turned his head back to the two ladies. "Ah yes, this bodyguarding job, sounds familiar. Though I may need a refresher; I do hope you understand but my memory isn't what it used to be, age is taking a toll on this old body."

   "Volkhard. Otto. A pleasure to meet you both," said Merissa.
   Sharon bristled when Volkhard mentioned that Otto was cursed. Terrible. Was there no end to the evils of magic? If only she had been born a Mordecai. But maybe the Grand Duke would finish what he started, purge Connlaoth of all the disgusting mages. The current word on the streets concerning the civil war seemed promising to that end. Maybe after she got Strathus to do what she needed, she could betray him. Turn him in. One less mage in Reajh.
   But then the big man, Volkhard, laughed. No curse after all. A joke. Sharon narrowed her eyes. She didn't find it very funny. Too close to what she needed Strathus to do.
   Merissa laughed politely when Volkhard punched Otto, covering her mouth as she did so.
   "The job truly is that simple, dear," said Merissa. "We need to speak with a man who is a little...unhinged, last I heard of him. Oh, and you mustn't be so hard on yourself, Volkhard, you're still quite the strapping fellow. A fine specimen of a mature man, if I do say so myself." She winked. "But while age has sculpted your body and mine with gentle strokes, this man...oh how should I put this...well, suffice it to say that not everyone can be as fortunate as us."
   "His name is Strathus," Sharon said, prompting a look from Merissa. She ignored Merissa's cautious and warning eyes. Kept on being straightforward with Volkhard. "He's a mage. And he's dangerous. But I need him to do something. For a friend of mine. A friend who didn't deserve what happened to her."
   Sharon took in a serious, steadying breath. Despite her best efforts to appear tough and hardened, a hint of pleading in her eyes. Her brows. "Please, help me make this right."

Volkhard raised an eyebrow to Sharon. "Hm, it's why we are here, lass."

He grabbed the mug off of the counter and took a chug, before wiping hos mouth and saying. "Still, I don't like going into anything without some recon or information...what exactly do you need and my friend here to do? Protect you from this mage or somthing? Or are you expecting someone else to be there?"

   A visible wave of relief on Sharon's expression. She had her doubts that anyone would take up the job. That she and Merissa would have to face Strathus by themselves. Money was no object—Sharon, Charles, Jorge, and Gabe all enjoyed a substantial payout from the Cerenis job. Finding the right people for this was always going to be the hardest part. But Volkhard, and presumably Otto as well, seemed committed.
   "We need you to protect us from Strathus," Sharon said. "Subdue him, if necessary. I can pay him whatever sum of coin he wants for his services, but I just need him in a state where he'll listen to me."
   Merissa glanced back to Volkhard. Her voice a little lower than before. She preferred not to speak of these sorts of matters in such an open environment, but did so anyway. "I wish I could tell you more about Strathus himself, and what kind of company he may or may not be keeping these days, but unfortunately it has been years since I last saw him myself. I think I was Sharon's age, more or less. Strathus was a different man back then...calmer, if I had to put it in a single word."
   Merissa entwined her hands together and leaned onto the bar. Smiled. "I'll confess that I do not know what I should know about Strathus these days. But...I know who does. If you'd like to officially accept this little job of ours, then I'll take you to him, and we can get started."

"Might, if I am to do anything a plan may be of order." smiled the old man, before he glanced at Otto. "What you say Otto? You up for another job?"

Otto took a long drink from his mug, before putting it on the counter, empty. He turned around in his seat, he never bothered looking up, his eyes were down as if he was thinking of somthing and his hands were stuck in his pockets.

"Ah, that's the spirit." boomed Volkhard as he finished his mug and slammed it onto the counter. He grabbed his great mace that was resting on the floor.

"Alright lass, when you are ready, lead the way." Volkhard said, heaving the great mace onto his shoulder.

   "Splendid!" Merissa said. "Though you might have to keep your feisty friend Otto in check once we arrive. He certainly is a wild one, isn't he?" Merissa brought her hand over her mouth and laughed softly. And she winked playfully at Otto.


   Merissa led them to Market Street, a good walk from Reajh's Finest. Just off of the wide street itself, a path far less traveled, a dirt alleyway. It led to a large, three-story building. Nondescript on the outside. No name.
   Merissa pushed open the front door to the brothel. Entered, and Sharon followed.
   The main lounge was suitably dim, relaxing on the eyes. Sweet aromas and perfumes permeated the air. Rugs and sofas and pillows everywhere, all various colors. Distant laughter and soft moans, only just audible enough to heard. A couple of the working girls passed through the lounge from an adjacent room, noticed the four of them, smiled enticingly, and went on their way up the staircase at the far end of the room.
   "Well, I daresay that you won't find it too hard to make yourselves comfortable," Merissa said. "I'll go see if Elliot is present and accepting business calls. Be right back."
   Merissa crossed the length of the lounge and started up the stairs, disappearing into the upper floors of the building.
   Sharon glanced at Volkhard and Otto. Then sat down on one of the sofas. Her knees and feet close together. Still anxious.
   She looked to Volkhard again. He seemed to be the talkative one. "Have you...done something like this before? I mean...fought mages? How do you even go about doing that?"
   Sharon recalled the battle at Deegan's manor in Cerenis. Morgan. The fire mage. Granted, the battle was chaotic, but it was still many versus one. And Morgan still managed to kill several men before he was taken down.
   It baffled Sharon. What chance did a good, normal person stand against the sinister power granted by magic?

"Haven't seen this place in ages." muttered Volkhard to himself as he followed the two ladies. "Seems like things haven't really changed since the last time, but that was ages ago..."

Otto gave him a questionable look but said nothing.

As Merissa left to go grab this "Elliot", at this point he just leaned against a wall with his arms crossed. Volkhard meanwhile took a minute to set his great mace on the floor, before looking around the room with the free hand now rubbing the back of his head.

When Sharon asked the question, it was Otto that answered first.

"You fight them like anybody." Otto never bother to make eye contact, instead he was to focused on the ground. "They die as easily the rest of them..."

"Well, I wouldn't use easily, but I suppose they're no differnt then fighting most things in this world." Volkhard said, as he placed his free hand onto his hip. "I mean compare to the likes of vampires and dire wolves, their nothing really special."

The old man then turned to look at the women. "I don't blame you for thinking of them as scary. I've been in the army for ages, and the only thing they seem to like to fight are magic users...damn shame, it really is, but to tell you the truth, their really aren't any different then you and me."

The old man's eye darted for secound, as if in thought, before refocusing on the women. "Most of them are simply, eh, human....with unique powers."

   A knock on his door.
   "Enter," said Elliot Laython.
   He watched the door open from his seat at the table. The daylight of Reajh through the large window behind him.
   One of his bodyguards, Spectre, entered. Stood by the open door. Said, "Merissa Bowen is requesting a meeting, boss."
   "Is that so? Tell her to come in."
   Spectre waited a moment. Added, "She's brought three others with her."
   Laython waved his hand dismissively. "It'll be fine. Go and fetch Ghost and bring them all in."
   Spectre nodded. And closed the door.

   Otto seemed intense. Good. At least he wasn't another Jorge. Sharon could barely handle the one she was stuck with.
   There was certainly no lack of confidence between the two of them. Sharon took heart from that, if nothing else. Still, she wondered how well their words would clash with reality. As far as she knew, they appeared to be normal human beings, just like Sharon. How could they possibly compete with the likes of Aven, Morgan, or Strathus? Was there some sort of trick to it that she wasn't aware of? Some universal weakness in magic to exploit? Were they actually Mordecai?
   Or were mages, like the big man said, 'simply human'?
   Sharon offered Volkhard a smile. An attempt at one, at least. "I hope you're right about that."
   Merissa came back down the stairs, flanked on either side by two black-clad, masked, dark-skinned bodyguards. Spectre and Ghost. One male, one female.
   "We've been invited up," Merissa said. "Let's go say hello to dear Elliot, shall we?"
   The bodyguards started back up the stairs. Merissa followed. Sharon stood from the sofa. Gestured her head toward the staircase. Then followed as well.

   Spectre and Ghost entered the office first. Took their places beside and behind Laython.
   Laython sat back luxuriously in his chair. Strummed his fingers on the armrest as he watched the rest come into the room.
   Sharon didn't like the look of Laython or his office. Too high-class. Too far from the ground. Too disconnected from the working people and the downtrodden of the city. The temptations from great fortune abounded from slick clothes he wore, to the artwork and busts that adorned his office, to the meticulously groomed hair on his head.
   He reminded Sharon of Earnhardt. Of the rich men and women who looked down with disdain to those beneath them.
   Laython smiled cordially. "Ah, Merissa Bowen at last decides to grace me with her lovely presence once again." He looked to Sharon, Volkhard, and especially Otto with interest. Then back to Merissa. "Perhaps you'll allow your friends here to introduce themselves? You do know how keen I am on meeting new faces."

Volkhard was the first to follow the group,picking up his great mace and hefted onto his shoulder. followed by Otto.

Upon seeing the man in the lavished seat, Volkhard simply raised his eyebrow. Otto just stared ahead, he didn't say anything but kept his hands in his pocket.

When they were mentioned, Volkhard gave a casual salute with his shield before saying. "The names Volkhard, at your service."

Volkhard gestured to Otto, who at this point was standing next to Volkhard. "Silent here is Otto, not much of a talker, though one hell of a fighter, I can tell you for sure."

Otto gave a slight nod, but kept staring ahead.

"Now, about this job." Volkhard went on. "I was told by my clients here that we are suppose to escort this lot to a... Mr.Strathus? A mage I've been told, and I've been told you know somthing about this?"

   "Sharon," she said, falling somewhere between Otto and Volkhard on the talkative scale.
   Laython listened intently to the introductions, however sparse they were. Matched their names with their faces. Made mental notes of the three of them. Perhaps they would be relevant again in the future.
   Then Volkhard mentioned the name Strathus. Laython glanced to Merissa. She smiled.
   And Laython laughed. "Strathus? My dear sweet Merissa, you must certainly be desperate if you need his help."
   "Well, Laython," Merissa said, "did you happen to come across a mage more powerful than him in the intervening years since our last little chat?"
   Laython raised his hands off of the armrests. "Fair enough, fair enough." With a glance to Volkhard and Otto, he said, "You do appear to be taking the proper precautions. And yes, I do know a number of things about Strathus. Information I could impart to you. For the right price, of course."
   "I'll pay you whatever you want," Sharon said from behind Merissa. "We just need to know what we're walking into."
   Laython regarded Sharon with a renewed interest. "Ah. So this is for you."
   Sharon hestitated. Wondered if she had just made a mistake.
   Then Laython said Merissa, "Surely you've told young Sharon here that I've no need for money."
   Merissa smiled. "Well, now I suppose I don't need to."
   Laython chuckled. "You know how this works, Merissa."
   "I'm really not in the mood to be handing out favors, dear."
   "Just a small favor. Clean. At a time convenient for both you and I. A fair price."
   "I'm retired, Elliot."
   "Think of your poor friend Sharon. Do this for her."
   Merissa sighed through her nose. Kept up her smile. "Very well then. A small favor."
   "Good. Good." Laython leaned forward in his seat. Rested his elbows on the table and bridged his fingers together. Gazed at Sharon. "And from you. Information. Simply information. A little this, for a little that. An exchange. That's all."
   Sharon glanced nervously at Merissa, who looked back, saw it, and nodded reassuringly.
   Laython gestured his head toward Volkhard and Otto. "Think of it like this, Sharon: this is for their benefit as much as it is for mine. You wouldn't want these fine professionals, who are risking life and limb on your behalf, to do so without truly knowing why they've been hired, would you?"
   Sharon didn't know this man. But Merissa did, and Sharon trusted Merissa.
   So she swallowed. Said, "Fine."
   "Excellent. Shall we begin?" Laython smirked. His eyes feasting on the all the subtle nervous tics and twitches of Sharon's body. "Why do you need Strathus' help?"
   "So I can free a friend from a curse." Sharon thought of her first question. "Where is Strathus located?"
   Laython's smirk opened up into a grin. He was in his element. "Still in Reajh. Harbored by mage sympathizers in an apothecary shop known as Fallah's Remedies. What do you want from your friend in exchange for removing this curse?"
   "Guidance." Laython looked unsatisfied, so Sharon drew in a breath and added, "And her help establishing something important in Reajh's underground." Her turn. "Is there a code word or something we can say to the keepers of the apothecary shop to gain access to Strathus, and if so, what is it?"
   "Yes. Ask Fallah herself if she knows where you can find a blue mortar and pestle. What are you trying to establish that requires the help of your friend, and why?"
   Sharon grew even more anxious, revealing all this. Still, she said it.
   "Order."
   Laython's eyes narrowed slightly as he considered her answer. The smirk returning to his face.
   "And why?"
   "Because it's necessary. After what I've seen."
   Laython slowly nodded.
   "Are there any traps in this shop where Strathus is being harbored?"
   "Yes. There's enough Ignis Root, Crystal Vane, and gunpowder mixture in the walls of his underground room to blow the entire building into the sky. The tiniest spark down there will ignite the gases of the mixture and end only in disaster."
   Sharon's heart skipped a beat.
   "And what is the name of this friend of yours?"
   Sharon hesitated again. Glanced once again to Volkhard, Otto, and Merissa. Then steeled her resolve and answered him.
   "Jessos Rains."

"So no bombs are pistols, got it." Volkhard muttered to himself as he looked over to Otto. "You got that lad?" He whispered to Otto "Can't use your fancy pistols or bombs."

"Don't need them for this." replied Otto in a quieter tone.

Volkhard chuckled to himself lightly. He knew his friend was plenty dangerous enough without his bombs or pistols.

"What do you think this curse is?" Volkhard whispered again to Otto, who just gave a shrug as the two continued to listen to the conversation.

   "Ah. The Butcher herself. I almost feel inclined to pay you to know how you managed that." Laython had a number of top-name guests from Reajh's underworld who frequented his brothel, and Rains was one of them. He even expected her today, likely accompanied with the degenerate black-haired man with the burns on his face again. She was uncharacteristically late, however.
   Regardless, he said, "Your turn."
   Sharon thought hard on how to word her question. She didn't want to share any more information, so this had to be her last one.
   "If Strathus tried to attack us, how will he do it?"
   Laython nodded. "Knowing your enemy. A good question. Strathus favors frost magic, necromancy, and illusions these days. A focus on illusions, I'd say. To escape detection."
   "That'll do, Mr. Laython."
   Laython clicked his tongue against his teeth. "Oh. What a shame. And I was just getting to know you."
   "It was good to see you again, Elliot," Merissa said.
   "And to you the same, Merissa. Please, feel invited to visit on a social call anytime."
   Merissa chuckled, covering her mouth with a hand. "You should be so lucky."
   "One day, perhaps." Then Laython turned his attention to Volkhard and Otto. "Anything else you gentlemen would like to know?"

"I mean if you are so generous as to offer..." Volkhard said, rubbing his chin a bit sarcastically. "...I'd think I want to know about Mr. Strathus's  birthdate, perhaps even his favorite collar."

He lowered the chin rubbing hand and placed it onto his shoulder. "Everything and anything that could give us an advantage on the man and his men if things decide to go pear shape would be useful. Though if you need anything specific, I suppose I'd really like to know about how many of them are on the premise at any given time as well as where they are stationed.  Not to mention the fact of where this particular individual may be."

"Any back entrances or secret rooms to the building?" Otto decided to add in his question. "Anything this particular illusion mage is allergic to?"

"Right, if you can answer those I think we could be more or less set." smiled Volkhard. "If you don't, that's okay, but I'd think we'd be done here."

   Laython smiled back. But there was no warmth in it. "I would be happy to answer your questions. For the same price Sharon had to pay. A little this, for a little that. An answer for an answer."
   To Otto, he asked, "Why do you wear the mask? And why do you work with Volkhard?"
   To Volkhard, he asked, "What happened to your eye? And why are you accepting this job that young Sharon has offered you, aside from the obvious monetary gain?"
   Two questions for each of them. To match the two questions each man had asked of Laython.
   Merissa held her hands in front of herself. Turned at an angle to have Volkhard and Otto to one side of her vision and Laython to the other.
   Sharon eyed the two with a look of worry. She felt exposed—vulnerable—revealing what she had to reveal to get the information they needed from Laython. Somehow it just felt wrong, as if she had made a deal with a malevolent, capricious deity.
   And she didn't know if they would feel the same.
   A pang of guilt. For bringing them here.

"This scarf was a gift." Otto spat out the information, not even blinking an eye. "It just happens to cover my face."

"Well then." grinned Volkhard as he glanced from Otto to Laython. "As for the two of us, we met after our last contract together, which was where we meet. After said job, we decided the two of us grab a celebratory drink. We were in Connolaoth at the time, so I knew most of the bartenders. Got word of someone in need protection, we didn't have much better to do, so we figure why not take up another job."

Volkhard put his shield hands on his hip before he said the next part. "Besides, been a while since I've been back in the country, figure maybe after this, since I was in the city I visit an old friend of mine, if he is still around..." He muttered the last part, more to himself then anything.

"Right, now as for my this old thing." he said as he patted his eyepatch. "Back in my marching days, a mage cursed this wee thing during one of the skirmishes. Suppose it was fair, considering I tried and did kill him, but that must of been years ago."

As his hands went down to his hip again, Volkhard mustache twitched a bit, before the hand went back up to satisfy an itch. "Now then, since we answered your question, I think you owe us answers."

   Laython listened to their answers, analyzed every word.
   Otto was cagey. Had something to hide about his past or present. But he cared for someone: a friend, a lover perhaps. Someone who had given him the scarf. Someone who could be found and used as leverage, if necessary. Given if he or she were still alive.
   Not much history between the two, only a shared profession as mercenaries. Volkhard potentially had a drinking problem, as did many men who had seen too much and had the misfortune of staying alive for far too long, harboring all those nasty memories. Having "nothing much better to do" hinted at a lack of drive, of purpose. Perhaps they were just in it for the coin. Volkhard more so than Otto, if that were the case. Volkhard seemed to cleanly fit the profile of a washed-up fighter of some sort, merely surviving his last days. Otto, likely a vigilante, or on some personal quest for vengeance of a sort, or perhaps he just secretly enjoyed killing; either way, money would be a base yet necessary component of his life.
   Potentially non-native to Connlaoth, either one or both of them.
   And Volkhard had "an old friend".
   Ah. His "marching days". Perhaps this old friend was a fellow veteran. And he cared about him enough to seek him out, spend time with him. This friend could have been with Volkhard during one of those skirmishes, perhaps the very same in which he was cursed. Strong bonds are forged on the battlefield. Volkhard would do anything for this friend, wouldn't he?
   Wouldn't he?
   Laython smiled.
   To Otto, he said, "No back entrances, but Strathus' room qualifies as a secret room. There is a trap door somewhere inside in the shop; Fallah knows where. This trap door will lead you down to a small underground landing, where you will see a heavy iron door. This door is enchanted, and will open only in response to the touch of Fallah, Strathus, and a few other individuals. The living touch, mind you, so I'd advise keeping her alive at least long enough to get the door open if she proves to be uncooperative. Oh. And peanuts. The big bad frightening sorcerer is deathly allergic to peanuts. Much to his chagrin, he has not been able to develop a magical remedy for this malady. Not an ideal one, in any case."
   To Volkhard, he said, "You'll find Fallah, an assistant apothecary of little importance, and Strathus himself on the premises. Perhaps one or two shop-goers from the street browsing inside the store. That's all. No guards. No men. A quiet hideaway. Fallah and the assistant will be in the store proper, conducting business as usual. Strathus, naturally, will be sealed away in his underground room."
   When he was finished, some parting words for Merissa, "Good luck. Don't let the old sorcerer mar that beautiful face of yours."
   Her eyes shifted momentarily to Volkhard and Otto. "I should be fine, Elliot. Take care."
   As Merissa and Sharon made for the door, Sharon hazarded one look back to Laython.
   And he smirked.
   "Do come back."
   Sharon frowned. And followed Merissa out of the room.

   Back down in the main lounge, Sharon put her hands on her hips and took a moment to recuperate.
   "Merissa...how do you do it?"
   "Do what, dear?"
   "Talk with someone like Laython. I just...ugh."
   Merissa smiled. "It's simple, dear. Laython is a man, and men usually just want one of two things at any given moment. Sex or status. You'll know which with one look. And once you see it, you just wrap them around your finger by playing into their fantasies but never letting them come true." With a glance to Volkhard, she said, "No offense, sweetheart."
   Sharon's eyes narrowed as she thought about it. "And...which did Laython want?"
   "In reference to you or myself?"
   "Actually, nevermind. Don't answer. I don't want to know."

One can assume a lot of things of another man, but of course, mere assumptions do not replace the facts about the man.

Otto simply turned to leave, while the veteran nodded and followed.

Once outside, Volkhard shrugged at Merissa's comment. "That may be true for most men, but don't lump us all into the same category as the man back there.. We all have our own reasons for what we do. Ain't that right Otto?"

Otto just gave a slight nod, but otherwise said nothing.

"Now." Said Volkhard. "What is the plan of action?"

   Merissa smiled. Said to Volkhard, "Oh I wouldn't dare do a thing like that. You can trust me, dear."
   Sharon took in a huff of air, almost tasting the aromas of the lounge as she did, and put her hands on her hips. Time to go and face one of her worst nightmares. Time to go and trap herself in an underground room with a powerful mage. Again.
   "Well, I don't know if either of you know where this Fallah's Remedies shop is located," she said. "If not, we can ask around. That shouldn't be a problem. Laython said Fallah might be a bit uncooperative, so it would probably be best if one of you did the talking. You're...you know...scary looking. Tough guys."
   A small chuckle from Merissa. "Yes, Sharon and I certainly do lack an air of menace. You're both far more suited for intimidation, aren't you?"
   "My point exactly. So, I don't know. Volkhard, you're bigger. Otto, you're...actually probably the best bet, now that I think about it."
   Seemed like a good enough strategy. Those people who hushed up at the bar back at Reajh's Finest were solid evidence that Otto had that 'air of menace' Merissa was talking about. If anybody was going to scare Fallah into being more pliable, why not the most intense guy of the group?
   Sharon crossed her arms. Looked to Otto. "What do you think?"

"I suppose it's worth a shot." said Volkhard  "What say you Otto?"

Otto just gave a shrug, then a few minutes later he just nodded.

"Splendid." The big man chuckled as he placed his shield hand on his hip. "Now, about this apothecary, I might have an idea where it is..."

He took a minute to think, before somthing hit him. He looked over to Sharon, as if he thought of somthing, and asked. "I hope you don't mind me asking, but what exactly is this little "curse' you need breaking? Especially if your seeking a mage of all people. Not that it isn't reasonable, it's just most people around these parts aren't exactly reasonable with magic."

   Otto took a while to come around to the idea, but come around he did. Sharon gave him a nod of approval. He could probably get Fallah to cooperate, and then some. Maybe even convince her to talk Strathus into standing down, if she had enough pull with the old sorcerer. Could get this done without a big mess if they were so lucky.
   Then Volkhard asked his question, and Sharon was taken aback for a moment. She briefly considered outright saying that she didn't want to talk about it. But then, both Volkhard and Otto had already heard everything she had said upstairs in Laython's office. They had plenty of pieces, just not the entire puzzle.
   Sharon glanced around the main lounge. At the staircase. At the two closed doors that led to other hallways and rooms on the ground floor.
   And it was just the four of them. For the moment.
   Back to Volkhard and Otto. They deserved to know.
   "I'll be honest with you. Jessos and I...aren't exactly friends." Sharon's eyes trailed down and away. "She actually hates me right now. For something I did."
   She took in a breath. Thought. And raised her eyes back up to meet Volkhard's. "I'll start with the curse. I was with Jessos in her home when we were attacked. A mage, named Aven Alveron, trapped us in a room with him. This...Aven..." she said the name with disgust, "had infiltrated some army unit called Ansgar's Hand, and he had been stalking me under that guise. I didn't know what he was truly capable of until he had us locked in that room. The sick bastard...he knew what we were going to do. And he just couldn't let a good thing happen in this world."
   Sharon shook her head. "Mages. Aven knew that Jessos was planning to get her just revenge on a man named Deegan, a criminal boss based in Cerenis. And do you know what Deegan did to Jessos? He killed her parents when she was only six years old, kept her locked in a dungeon and raped her repeatedly for seven years, murdered her newborn daughter when she was thirteen, and then forced her to become his second-in-command. Aven knew Jessos was planning to kill Deegan, to finally get her revenge."
   Sharon scowled. "And do you know what he did? Hmm? He put a curse on her, that if she killed anyone, some kind of black magic would eat her alive. What kind of a sadistic move is that? Jessos finally, finally has the means to get her revenge on one of the most evil men I personally have ever seen, and Aven just..."
   Sharon turned away from them. Her hands on her hips. Her breathing fierce and heavy.
   After a long moment, she turned back around, her voice still trembling with anger. "She was still going to do it. Still going to kill Deegan, curse or no curse. She was that dedicated. And...after I saw Deegan's dungeon for myself...the three starving little girls he had in there that day...I just...I couldn't let that happen. I couldn't allow Jessos to die. Not like that. Not in that vile way. So I shot Deegan myself."
   Sharon sighed. "She hates me for it. And I...I can't blame her."
   And Sharon took another moment to glance around the lounge. Still just the four of them. Regardless, she lowered her voice. "All I can do ask for forgiveness, get that foul curse off of her, and offer her the chance to help me. To help me establish some semblance of order in this goddamn world. To help me expose and kill the men like Deegan that litter Reajh's criminal underground. And stop any more of them from rising up."
   Merissa said nothing. Only smiled cordially.

"Ansgar Hand. eh?" Volkhard snorted when he heard about the Ansgar hand. Volkhard wasn't phycic, but he had a pretty good idea what Otto was thinking, in fact he could see it in the corner of his eyes. Otto was staring at Sharon, and he had he'd seen those eyes one night when they were camping and he, well, told him a few things about his past. Normally his eyes looked empty, hell, you couldn't make them out even in good light. But with those few seconds as Sharon speaking he saw emotion in those eyes, of anger, but mostly sadness.

The two of them now seemed to have a thing or two in common.

"Well then, what are we waiting for?" said Volkhard. "I think I know where this apothecary might be...yeah, follow me."

He moved for the street, before stopping at the entrance of the alleyway, gesturing for the group to follow.

Otto took a minute to collect himself, blinking a few times as if he was somehow shocked, before looking back at Volkhard and followed.

   Not much of a reaction from Volkhard, Sharon noted. That was either an intensely good thing, or just the opposite. Or perhaps the old veteran was really just unflappable. Still, he did seem to take an interest in her mention of Ansgar's Hand, and presumably Aven. She wouldn't mind exposing him and any other mages who happened to be hiding within the ranks, even if it meant her going to prison. Thus far, she didn't really have anybody she could turn to on this. Who knew how far Aven's corruption had gotten within the Ansgar's Hand unit? Volkhard was a veteran; he certainly had to know some people still on active duty, maybe even had a little pull himself. The right sort of man to get an organized effort by the military in motion to uncover Aven and who knows how many other infiltrated mages.
   But that was something for another day. More important matters were pressing.
   "Alright, dear," Merissa said. "We'll follow you then."
   Merissa started after Volkhard.
   Sharon took a step. Stopped. Glanced back to Otto. The man actually seemed...shaken, or something.
   A look and voice of concern. "Hey," she said. "You okay?"
   But Otto blinked. Came around, or so it appeared. He started walking, and Sharon walked beside him.


   Fallah stood behind the counter in her apothecary shop. Her assistant, a young man, behind her at the table, mixing up a new batch of potions. Another army unit put in another order for these potions. Dysentery, apparently, was becoming a huge problem out somewhere on the front of the civil war.
   It only slightly concerned Fallah what side the unit was on; she hadn't bothered to ask. Money was money, and she needed it to fund her business...and her various rebel causes.
   An old man was in the shop. Browsing. The same old man who came in every week. And it was almost every other week that he actually bought something.
   Fallah stood behind the counter. Her hands entwined. Smiling cordially.
   The old man browsed and browsed.
   But this wasn't one of those weeks. So he left without buying anything.
   Fallah glanced down to her hands on the counter. A huff of air from her nose. And she went into the back room and pulled out another crate of ingredients for the dysentery-relief potion and walked back out to the table with her assistant and set the crate down and started helping with the batch.

When they reached a little before the apothecary, Volkhard stopped them.

"You lass wait for our signal to come in, Otto, your with me." Volkhard said in a commanding voice before moving for the apothecary. Otto simply nodded and followed.

Just before they entered, Volkhard stopped Otto again, looked like he was whispering somthing...

***************************************************************************
The door to the apothecary creaked open, as a well groomed mustached man with a eyepatch on his face peaked his head in.

Scanning the room, he nodded to the lady at the counter.He slowly entered, looking around as if he was a customer, before his eye fell upon the old man. He moved his towards where the old man was looking, before looking back at the door.

"Are you looking for somthing to cure foot fungus." the big man said, keeping his eyes on the door.

A minute later a man in the overcoat entered, glancing around the room, before heading stright for the counter.

When he got there, he was glancing around the room, before he leaned against the counter. His eyes were empty when he began to stare at Fallah.

"There so one I would like to see, I have a problem that...only he may have the remedy have." The man in the overcoat said in a raspy and gravely voice, he gave the women a dead stare.

   The sun was almost at its apex for the day. Close to noon. And though clouds still dominated the sky, a break in them. A brief shining down on Reajh.
   Fallah's Remedies. This was the place.
   Sharon nodded in response to Volkhard. And Merissa said, "We'll be waiting."
   And they stood at the edge of the street, close to Fallah's and the adjacent building, but not too close. Merissa struck up a topic. Idle conversation. Just two women having a little chat.
   Sharon occasionally glanced at the random passersby on the street.

   The mustached man caught the old man before he left the shop.
   "Oh no. Back pain," said the old man in a quiet voice. He looked to be pushing seventy years old. "Been a ship builder for forty-five years, lad. Always lifting and heaving things. Surprised I made it as long as I did."
   Fallah stood up from the table and let her assistant continue fulfilling the military order of potions once she heard chatter in the shop. She went back to the counter and entwined her hands and smiled as she should smile and eyed the regular old man and the mustached man with the eyepatch.
   Then another man entered. Passed by the two having the conversation. A man in an overcoat. And he came straight up to the counter.
   "How can I help you today?" Fallah asked.
   Then he spoke. And there was something about this man, something in his voice or in his appearance or in the sinister combination of both, that sent a cold shiver down her spine.
   She wet her lips. Said, "Well, perhaps I have the remedy you seek. I have quite the wide selection of potions, tonics, salves, you name it. And if I don't have it ready made in the shop, you can place an order and I'll get started on crafting any specialized potions for you. Please, just let me know, I'd be happy to assist."

"Your going need some pain killers." the big man said as he kept his eyes fixed on the door.

"I am looking for a man... a man you hide in this shop." The man in the overcoat said, his tone never changing, his icy stare seemed to shoot icicles stright through the women. "We both know who I am talking about. I need somthing from him, and I do not intend to harm him or you to achieve it but if you are to prove difficult then I have no other choice." THe man spoke in his tone, but his dialogue was also smooth and he never stuttered. He was here for business and it was as plain as white bread.

   The old man reached up and scratched his beard. "Hmm...I usually take tonics made with Apoxien. Hasn't been so effective as of late. Any recommendations?"
   He either didn't hear or didn't care about the increasingly tense conversation behind him, with the shopkeeper and the overcoated man.

   Fallah struggled to maintain her smile.
   Who was this man? Did he...did he know about Strathus? Was he part of some other rebel cell? She couldn't be sure. He wasn't part of hers. He hadn't mentioned the blue mortar and pestle either.
   Maybe this was a mistake? Some sort of misunderstanding? Possibly. Maybe he was looking for a man, someone other than Strathus, and he just got some bad intel.
   One thing was for certain. Whether or not it was actually Strathus that this mystery man was looking for, he believed she was harboring someone.
   Still, her first instinct was to continue her feigned ignorance. Perhaps if he started causing too much of a scene, the fellow with the mustache and the eyepatch would intervene. The old man could even call for help outside.
   "I believe you may be mistaken, sir," Fallah said. She gestured back to her assistant at the table behind the counter. The young man glanced up and gave a little wave. "It's just my assistant and I here. We sell potions. Tonics. Remedies of a natural variety. That's all. If someone's told you otherwise, I'm...well, I'm afraid that you have been misled."
   Behind the wooden counter, Fallah's right foot tapped the floor nervously.

"Try the one where they mix a frog foot in it." said Volkhard, glancing at the counter for a moment before back to the door. "It smells terrible but it's plenty strong, plus it's much more abundant then Apoxien. Still, I hear there's this fella in town who does this thing called "acupuncture" where they stick needles into ya. But I hear it's relatively painless, and it can ease much of the pain anywhere on the body.

"I do not suppose you also sell blue motars or pestles either." The man said, never losing his cool as he kept staring daggers at the lady.

   The old man waved his hand. "Ah. Not a big fan of needles, I fear. One too many collisions with spiny bushes as a lad."

   Sharon stole a glance at the shop. She saw a bit of Volkhard, though the door blocked most of her sight of the man. The glare from the sun made it difficult to make out Otto and Fallah.
   What was taking so long? Something go wrong?
   Her hand rested idly on her reserve pistol.

   Fallah blinked.
   Oh. So he did know the code. Hard to say how he might have come about the knowledge of it. But the chances of him being a friendly outweighed those of him being hostile, despite however brusque his attitude may be. If he knew it, that meant somebody in the rebel cell trusted him; cell members would rather die than expose their harbored mages to Reajh authorities.
   She eyed the other two customers: the old man and the mustached man.
   Careful. Don't draw attention. This is no big deal.
   "Oh, most certainly. I do offer some apothecary crafting supplies and tools in addition to my remedies. Please, follow me." Then, to her assistant, "Lenius, please watch the front for me."
   "Yes, ma'am." The young man put aside his work on the next potion and stood from the table and moved to the counter.
   Fallah walked over to the door leading to the back room of the shop. Opened it. Smiled. Gestured for the overcoated man to enter with her.
   "Let's see if we can find something you like."

"Hold on for a bit." said Otto, not moving from his spot. "THere's more then just me."

Volkhard caught a glimpse of a gesture from Otto hand, right now hidden from the view of the two over the counter.

He put his hands on the old man and said. "Ah, I see, then I think you should get a message instead, I know the perfect place."

He more or less forced the old man to follow him. Once he was outside with him, two the two women it seemed that he was giving directions to the old man, before gently pushing him into the crowed.

Once Volkhard was sure he was gone, he looked over to where the women were at, and gave them a gesture to come over.

   That had to be it. The signal.
   Sharon finished her sentence, gave a slight nod to Merissa—whose back was to Volkhard—and started toward the shop. Merissa followed.
   Here goes nothing.
   Down into another cage. Down into another monster's den.
   All to make a deal with one form of evil in order to fight another.
   Sharon swallowed. Pushed open the door to the shop. Entered with Merissa.

   Fallah stood by the door to the back room of the shop. Eyed the two new women with no small amount of anxiety. It also appeared that the mustached man was part of this group.
   Each new person, a risk. Each new person, a potential leak. Each new person, a danger to herself and her fellow rebels and the innocent mages and magical creatures they harbored.
   She looked to the woman with the reddish-orange hair. The one with the double pistols on her belt. The one with a hand resting idly on one of her guns.
   The woman looked back at her.
   It was as if they both shared the same apprehension.
   Fallah glanced back to the overcoated man. Said, "Is this it?"

Volkhard let the two entered before backing into the room himself and closed the door.

Turning back, he could see Otto, still leaning against the table but now nodding his head at Fallah. "Just the four of us, no more."

   "Good," Fallah said. "Come with me."
   She led the way into the back room, and Sharon and Merissa followed. Lenius, the assistant, stayed up at the counter and idly watched the front door of the shop.
   Sharon glanced around the back room. Barrels, crates, racks of bottles and corks and bowls and spoons and knives and tongs and all sorts of other equipment. Fallah had to light the lantern once she closed the door behind them. Then she stood by one particular barrel, no different from the others stacked up around it.
   "Let me talk first," she said. "Introduce the four of you to him. Names. Now."
   "Sharon." Then she pointed to the others. "Merissa. Volkhard. Otto."
   Fallah nodded. "Good enough. I'll introduce you, then leave, and you can have your word with him. Don't make any sudden movements. No fires while you're down there. Just be direct and say what you need to say only. Now then."
   Fallah opened the top of the barrel. Reached inside. Pressed or touched something out of sight.
   And the center of the back room's floor seemed to shift. The wood becoming hazy and out of focus, much like the distant heat distortions of a hot day. Where once there was a smooth floor, straight boards of wood, now a large square trap door.
   A cold chill ran down Sharon's spine. She could never get used to the sight of magic.
   Fallah kneeled down and reached her hand into the small slit of the trap door and pulled it up, revealing a short ladder down to a small room. A few dark blue runes etched on the walls.
   Then Fallah blew out the lantern, extinguishing its flame. Nothing but the magical light of the runes from below. A meager light.
   Fallah and Sharon and Merissa all climbed down the ladder. Cramped into the small landing.
   And the iron door Laython spoke of was right in front of them.
   Sharon watched Fallah step forward and place her hand on the door with no small amount of trepidation. Sharon tried her best to calm herself. Or to at least appear so on the outside.
   The door shuddered at Fallah's touch.
   Runes lit up on the iron.
   A loud, metallic ker-chunk.
   And the door swung itself open.

   The smell was the first thing that hit Sharon. Like the Pit, but far worse. Old, musty, sour air, permeated with the smothering scent of the volatile drugs in the walls.
   More of the blue runes scattered along the walls, the floor, the ceiling. The only sources of light. Still, the haze and the overall dimness of the room made it difficult to see. A few tables, here and there, large piles and messes of parchments and books and orbs made of a glass-like material on them.
   An altar, or what appeared to be an altar, at the far end of the room. A yellow light coming from it, the brightest in the room. Two pedestals were a part of it, each with a human skull on top.
   And Strathus stood between the pedestals, facing the altar. His back to them. His long, gray, unkempt hair reaching down below his shoulders. A dark, sleeveless robe.
   A noise. Coming from him. A sharp hiss of air. Followed by a long, drawn out release, like a strained wind. Rhythmic.
   Fallah spoke quickly, "Strathus, this is Sharon, Volkhard, Otto, and Merissa. They'd like to speak with you. They are guests."
   And with that, Fallah left as quickly as she had spoken.
   Strathus said nothing. Only straightened out his back. The hiss and flow of air from him.
   And the iron door swung shut on its own.
   Merissa spoke next, smiling even though he couldn't see it. "My dear Strathus, how have you been? A pleasure to speak with you again. Surely you remember me?"
   Strathus said nothing.
   "I'd love to have a little chat with you. We never did have that cup of tea together. Perhaps you'd like that?"
   Finally, the sorcerer spoke. His voice distorted. Muffled and enhanced at the same time by something. "I once knew a woman. Named Merissa. But I've seen her death. A knife plunged into her back. A tragedy. This Merissa then, who speaks now, only waits to become a ghost. Or time has slipped from me yet again. And I am speaking to an illusion."
   Strathus turned around.
   And Sharon reflexively grabbed the handle of her holstered pistol. Forced herself to let it go.
   The flesh was melted over Strathus' right eye. His face, old and ragged and pale. And he wore a black mask over his mouth and nose, resembling a muzzle. A faint blue glow emanated from underneath the metal of the mask, mostly hidden. A rush of air from the valve on the right side of the mask. A slow release of it from the valve on the left.
   The fingers of his right hand flexed. "Shall I purge these illusions?"
   Merissa, still smiling, slowly backed away and stood behind Volkhard.

The two bodyguards followed them down to the lair, while Otto had an easier time squeezing through Volkhard struggled just a bit to not hit his head. Otto was glancing around the darkness once his eyes were adjust with the dim like, spying for any surprises.

Once they entered the room, Otto brought his shield to his chest and gripped his great mace a bit tighter. Otto stood feet apart, his hands were crossed and he was still looking around the room.

It's mages like him that give all the mages a bad name. Volkhard thought to himself. Still, let's see what he can do.

As Volkhard watched Merissa step behind him, looking at the old man, shield ever ready. He glanced at Otto, who seemed unfazed about this entire ordeal, then at Sharon

"Is this time to be asking questions?" He whispered to Merissa as he looked back at the mage.

   "Oh, certainly," Merissa whispered back. "I merely thought old Strathus would've still fancied that cup of tea."
   Sharon took a cautious step forward. Her right hand up in a calming gesture. "Easy. We've just come to talk. That's all. I just want to ask something of you."
   Strathus dragged his gaze from Merissa to Sharon. Looked her up and down. "And thus the illusion speaks. But I will not be fooled, for I have mastered these magicks. Now let us see if you truly are real."
   Strathus whipped his left hand up. Aimed his palm at the group. And a brilliant flash of red light burst forth.
   Both Sharon and Merissa were looking right at it, and the spell took hold on them. Clawed its way deep into their minds to expose their greatest fears.

   Blackness all around Merissa.
   And there. There was Charles. Standing. Looking at her and Niko.
   He couldn't see it. The monster. Right behind him. Merissa ran forward, calling out to him.
   And Charles turned. His back to her. His eyes on the monster. Said something. He knew this was coming.
   The gunshot tore through his chest. A spray of blood. His body falling down. Betrayed.
   Merissa clutched Niko. Yelled at the monster to back away.
   But Niko slipped from her grasp. Cried out to her. The monster had him. Her son, her precious son. Within her sight, but beyond her reach.
   The pistol. To Niko's head. The gunshot.
   Merissa shouted his name as the life fled from his eyes.

   Blackness all around Sharon.
   Her stomach rumbled.
   She was alone. No Siro. No one.
   But not for long. Faceless people approached. Surrounded her. Stood there. Stared. Looked down on her.
   And Sharon was small. And growing smaller. Insignificant. Nothing. Worthless.
   She pleaded with them. No. Don't do this. Please.
   Unheeded words. Deaf ears. And her stomach rumbled painfully.
   Someone pushed her. As did another. Then someone shoved her to the ground. The people towered over her. Sharon curled into a ball. Shielding herself.
   It did no good. The people raised their feet and stomped on her. Kicked her. Spit on her. Their feet driving her further into the ground.
   Sharon tried to scream. But a foot smashed into her mouth. Slid down her throat. Choked her. Violated her.
   And her stomach rumbled as it began to eat itself.

   It only lasted a few seconds, in real time. But it seemed an eternity in their minds.
   Both Sharon and Merissa had fallen to the ground. Both screaming in fear. Both clutching their own bodies.
   Strathus tilted his head as he observed them. Breathed through the mask's apparatus.

"RIGHT HAND!" Volkhard yelled, but it could be compared to a roar, as he brought his shield hand up to his face. 

When the two women fell to the floor screaming in pain, Volkhard gritted his teeth. He had seen many spells and tricks mages used on during his days on the campaign trail, though they were not exactly like this spell, he would assume that the spells he had seen were similar in nature. Some sort of spell that played with the victims mind, most likely.

Volkhard glanced over to Otto, who had was shielding his eyes with his arm and looking away from the light. Seemed he had assume the same thing of the light, and in his other hand he held a knife at the ready, with the blade facing up.

Volkhard was now gripping his mace tighter. He roared again. "I'M GIVIN' YA ONE CHANCE TA BACK DOWN! OR YOUR GOING TO BE TURNED FROM A SAD SACK OF FLESH INTO A PILE OF DUST!"

(If you want to invade there minds go ahead, got somthing planned for that.)

(((Nah, that was for you to decide if they got affected by the spell or not :D )))

   Sharon blinked rapidly. It was still dark and dim around her, but the nightmare was over. Her body quivered hard one last time, then she got a look around.
   Merissa, down on the floor too, coming around as well. Volkhard and Otto in front, ready to fight. And Strathus, standing his ground by the altar.
   On instinct alone, Sharon reached for the dagger on her belt. Unsheathed it. Armed herself.
   She needed Strathus' help. But she didn't want to die down here either.

   "Ah, now I see," Strathus said. "My dear Merissa, you are real. As is your companion. But you are being haunted by two illusions. Powerful spells, these phantasms. Their likeness to the real uncanny."
   Strathus brought his right hand to his chest, and the sight of him flickered. His body blurred, and the very air around him distorted. Three copies of Strathus now stood before the altar, all moving in unison.
   "But I have fought against spells before. And I shall do so again."
   "Strathus, no!" Merissa yelled.
   All three images of Strathus lifted their hands. Aimed them at Volkhard and Otto, without much of a care that Sharon and Merissa were in the line of fire.
   Large shards of ice shot out from the hands of the images. Flying and spreading haphazardly across the room and toward the group.
   Sharon and Merissa both covered their heads and stayed flat on the floor.

Volkhard did not waste his time, immediately stepping forward with his shield to meet the incoming attacks. Those shards aimed for his face and upper body bounced off or was shattered by the shield, the rest plinked off of his armor like stones.

Otto mean while nimbly sidestepped the incoming projectiles, in the process his back turned towards his allies. When his body swung back into view, he quickly threw three knives in seemingly one throw at the three separate images.

   The real Strathus staggered as a knife sunk into his chest, and the two images faded and disappeared. A rush of air from the mask's intake valve.
   "Petty iron," he said, despite the blood that accumulated on his robe. "It penetrates flesh, seeking to bring about a mundane death. But I do not fear death. Death...fears me."
   With that, Strathus' skin and muscles melted from his body and splashed to the floor. He waved a skeletal hand and the wooden boards of the floor transformed in an instant into muddy dirt.
   And the first zombified arm burst through the soft ground.
   Then another.
   Then a dozen more.
   Sharon shrieked in terror as one of the arms grabbed her left ankle, and another grabbed her right arm. She feverishly began to saw away at the zombified hand grasping her arm, trying to cut herself loose.
   "Strathus, stop this nonsense!" Merissa shouted as she jumped back to her feet, standing behind Volkhard and his shield again, looking more at the ground to avoid the grasping hands than at Strathus. "We're all real, dear! And we only want to talk!"
   "The deceived cannot know the deception that plagues them." He said as the temperature started to plummet in the room. "Not until it is purged."
   The zombified hands grasped for the legs and ankles of Otto, Volkhard, and Merissa. Ice started forming on the walls and ceilings of the room.

"Greeeat, zombies." Volkhard said as he crushed one of the hands beneft his both. "Been a while since I fought a necromancer..." it was then he looked up at the icicles up above. "...not to mention a ice mage, get over here!"

Volkhard dropped his mace, the strap dangled the mace to his hand, as he raised his shield,grabbing Sharon in the process and began to pull. One slash from Otto's new knife set her free, before he grabbed what seemed like a potion bottle and threw it to the ground. Upon meeting the ground, the bottle immediately imploded into a cloud of orange-red dust. To the living skin it and all other objects this had no effect, but the burned away at the rotten flesh underneath.

This momentarily gave the group a space to breath, as a circle of dust on the ground burned away at the hands.

"Explain to me how he is suppose to "help" us again?" Volkhard said in a loud voice to Merissa, only glancing back at her as he held Sharon under his shield.

   With a pull from Volkhard and a slash at the hands from Otto, Sharon found her feet again. She stood close behind Volkhard, her left hand on his back.
   "Thanks!" she said, her breath visible in the cold.
   The dust from Otto's bottle purged the zombified arms around the group, sizzling and eating away at the undead flesh. An alchemical reaction, sparkless, no fires. And the arms all but disintegrated within seconds.
   Volkhard's prompt got Merissa thinking quickly. The room was getting colder and colder by the second. She had some history with Strathus. Knew him as a friend, before he disappeared down into the murky depths of his own arcane research and experimentation. He was a young man once, just as she was a young woman. Perhaps there was something they still had in common.
   "Strathus, dear," Merissa said from behind Volkhard, her voice and body shivering, "surely this can wait until later. Yes, I know, you're concerned about these illusions, but they're really no trouble. Come now, we simply must have that cup of tea. Catch up. Talk about the old days and what's happened as of late."
   Sharon quivered. Her shirt felt wet. A quick glance. Purple-colored droplets of liquid were forming on her sleeve and soaking into the cloth. The gases from the Ignis Root and Crystal Vane mixture in the walls were becoming liquid from the cold.
   Time was running short.
   "Merissa, what are—?"
   Merissa raised a hand behind Volkhard's back.
   And she continued, doing her best to keep her voice level and unshaken, "You remember the good times, yes? The daring days of heists and good, clean thievery. Back when the coffers of nobility were overflowing before all this civil war nonsense. You remember Charles, our old nemesis, hmm? Funny how life turns out, but I married him, you know. Settled down quite a bit. Had a son that looks just like him. Niko."
   Even in his lich form, Strathus seemed caught by surprise. His interest piqued. "A son?"
   The cold continued to intensify. Droplets of the liquefied gases collecting on the muddy floor and the walls and dripping from the ceiling.

Otto backed up to the group, backed stright into Sharon then stopped. His eyes were darting back and forth, as if looking for somthing.

"What ever your saying keep it up, he seems intreasted." Otto hissed at the group, not turning his head back for a moment. "Hurry! The potion's effect will not linger forever."

"You heard the man." said Volkhard in the booming voice. "Keep going! I will be your shield!"

   Sharon flinched when Otto bumped into her. Did a double-take just to make sure it was him. And she joined him in scanning the room once he mentioned the effects of the potion being short on time.
   Merissa shifted closer to Volkhard, pressing herself against his body for the meager warmth. Her head poked out from behind his shoulder and arm to keep eye contact with Strathus. It must of looked awfully strange from the sorcerer's perspective, had he the wherewithal to notice.
   "Oh yes. A son, if you can believe it. Imagine me, a mother." She laughed. A strained and almost tortured sound as the intensifying cold drove icy daggers into her throat and lungs. "And what of you, Strathus? Dare I say it, but you sounded like you've settled down some."
   A quick change.
   Strathus' skin reformed on his bones. The zombified hands sank back into the muddy ground, and then the ground itself morphed back into wood. And the cold dissipated in the span of a few seconds, the liquefied gases evaporating near instantaneously.
   All was normal again. And Strathus seemed to have forgotten all about the "illusions", his mind focused now on a different subject.
   "I, too, am not above the temptations of the flesh, for I also have a son," he said. "One that I had not mentioned when we worked together. One that has of late...distanced himself from me." A glance to Sharon. A rush of air into the intake valve of his mask. "You said that you have come here to speak? That you wished to ask something of me? Yes. Yes, perhaps something could be arranged."
   A sigh of relief from Sharon. "Yes. I do need ask something of you. Is it possible for you to remove a curse? From a friend of mine?"
   "Tell me the nature of this curse."
   "It..." Sharon thought hard on how to word it, "...is some kind of black magic, or magic that turned her skin black. On her chest. Her heart, specifically. It's contained by some—what do you call 'em—runes? Runes. The mage who cursed her said the runes will break if she kills anyone, and that she'd be consumed by the magic."
   "Tell me...did your friend accept this curse upon her soul willingly? Or was it done against her will?"
   Sharon swallowed. Unsure if the answer would ruin her chance of getting Strathus' help. "She...willingly. She accepted it willingly."
   Strathus tilted his head up. "Ahhh...perhaps we can make an exchange."
   Sharon stepped out in front of the group. "Please, I'll pay you whatever you want."
   "I have no need for money, young girl. Know that I have all of the necessary reagents for the incantation your friend requires. All except...one. And this is where you can do something for me."
   "Alright. I'll get it. Tell me. What's the one thing you're missing?"
   The slow hiss of an exhalation from Strathus' mask valves. "An unwilling soul."
   Sharon slowly turned her head. Glanced over her shoulder back at Merissa and Volkhard and Otto. Even in the dim light, the worry and apprehension on her face plain as day.

Volkhard lowered his shield near his upper body, but his body position indicated that he was at the ready, watching the mage closely with a strong grip on his mace.

"I can bring you several." Otto said, rather boldly one might add. He had taken a step forward as he said that, his chin held up. "Granted there are no restriction to who this soul is?"

   "Yes. It must be my son, Michael," Strathus said to Otto, his mind having entirely drifted from the notion that the man was an illusion. "I wish for him to be returned to me. And he will bear this curse in the stead of the friend in question."
   Thoughts raced through Sharon's mind. A conflict: Disbelief, that Otto would simply play into the mage's sick demand, coupled in the very same moment with a solid respect for Otto's willingness to do what seemed necessary.
   If only it were so easy for Sharon.
   But she could already feel herself slipping inevitably down. Sinking into the murk of what she knew she would do. Of the moral line she knew she was all too willing to cross.
   Still, she fought against it.
   "No," Sharon said firmly. "There has to be another way."
   "This is the way."
   Her nostrils flared. "Bullshit."
   Merissa glanced at Sharon. An uncertain look.
   And then Sharon whipped out her pistol. Snapped the dog's head back. Raised the gun into the air, her finger on the trigger. Prepared to fire. The deadly spark it would produce a threat to everyone.
   "You have to do better than that, mage," Sharon said, her mouth twisting into a vicious snarl when she spoke the last word.
   Merissa, an actual look of nervousness ruining her normally unflappable demeanor, said cautiously, "Sharon, we can simply—"
   "I will not allow you to infect an innocent man, your own son, with that vile magic," Sharon said to Strathus, interrupting Merissa. "You can cure it from my friend. I know you can. Don't lie to me. There must. Be. A way."
   A rush of air from his mask. And Strathus, unfazed by the threat of the gun in Sharon's hand, said, "Perhaps there is. Perhaps there is not. It changes nothing. This is the offer you have been given."
   Merissa looked to Otto. To Volkhard. Unsure, for once, of what to do.
   Sharon's hand shook with a growing rage. The pistol trembling in the air.
   No one deserved a fate that horrible, to be eaten alive by black magic. That's what Sharon told Gabriel over two months ago about the very same curse. And even if Strathus' son, Michael, was the most gentle man who ever lived and would never harm a fly and thus would never break the seal on the curse, simply having that vile magic, that darkness deep inside your own heart, was still too much. Horrific in its own right. A sickening taint that would scar the soul.
   Sharon thought all this about Aven's curse, and now Strathus, this repulsive mage, wanted her to willingly put that curse on someone. To actively participate in his disgusting arcane wiles.
   Sharon clenched her teeth. Pursed her lips.
   And she knew she would.
   She knew this was the evil she was willing to commit. The necessary evil that would allow her to do what she felt was good and righteous.

Sharon would feel a hand resting on her shoulder, it was from Otto.

"You're not going to help your friend if he's dead...or we're blown to kingdom come." He said, his tone still remaining as raspy.

Normally he was never the one to really talk, he never had to with his business, but at the moment it seemed that thing they were after here was about to be splattered against the walls if he did nothing.

Otto stared at the mage with a dead stare. "What has your son done to warrant this?"

   Sharon's finger slipped away from the trigger.
   Otto was right. Strathus either saw right through her bluff or wasn't intimidated in the slightest. A feeble play on her part, a futile struggle against giving in to the deal. Against doing something she felt to be utterly reprehensible.
   She closed her eyes for a moment. Lowered the pistol back down to her side and carefully rode the dog's head forward with her thumb into the safe position and holstered the gun.
   This was the one path forward. This is what she warned Siro about. This is what Sharon feared might happen today.
   Even good deeds could you cost a part of your soul.
   Strathus swept his hand in a slow and wide gesture as he replied to Otto. "He has drifted from me. I wish for him to be my apprentice, to learn the crafts that I have mastered. He has always been resistant to my will, but it is when he married his wife, Emogene Armstrong, that he truly distanced himself from me—even taking on her family name." A hiss of air flowing into his mask. "And she converted him to Ansgarism. An abhorrent faith, intolerant of the true nature of this world."
   He looked to Merissa. To Volkhard and Otto. And to Sharon. "Michael has been in contact with the Reajh military. Telling them of the men and women like Fallah, and of the mages they hide. And today, he will tell them about me. A minor inconvience for me, but an opportunity for you."
   "Fine. We'll do it," Sharon said, the words bitter in her mouth. "Tell us everything you know."
   A rush of air from his mask. "Of course. Michael has indeed promised to tell the military about me, but he is fearful. For his family. And for his soul." A stifled laugh. "He desperately wishes to confess his so-called sins at the Church of Ansgar's Eternal Glory before he imparts my location to the military. But he fears a retaliatory strike from the hidden mages of Reajh and from myself, and has been in the protective custody of a heavy cavalry unit named Ansgar's Hand."
   Sharon's eyes went wide. Ansgar's Hand. The unit Aven had infiltrated. And there was no telling how deep his corruption went.
   Strathus continued. "Today, Michael will be exposed. He and his family will be escorted through Reajh by a small squad of these Ansgar's Hand cavalrymen to the Church. Steal him away, return him to me, and I will perform the ritual you desire."
   Lacking any of her earlier hesitation, Sharon glanced at both Otto and Volkhard. "Listen, I know neither of you signed up for this. Attacking a military convoy. I get it. But I need you on this. I'll pay you both double."
   "Sharon, dear," Merissa said, "Take a moment to think—"
   "This is what I have to do, Merissa. And I'm doing it."
   Sharon already knew what concerned Merissa. Mr. Winters' rule: Reajh authorities were not to be killed, or even harmed, by anyone in his employ; it brought too much heat to his criminal business. Anyone who broke this rule would be marked for death, simple as that. And it wasn't just Sharon and Merissa who would be in danger, either. Charles, Niko, and Siro's lives would be forfeit if Sharon and Merissa were discovered attacking members of Ansgar's Hand.
   The first step on a long and dangerous road.
   But a step well worth taking.

Otto took a moment to stare at Sharon. There was something about her that he almost could say that he admired, that determination...pity though, brave and logic are a rare pair.

When she looked back at Otto, he took his hand off of her and took a step back. When Sharon was talking to Melissa, Otto glanced at Volkhard, who was giving him just as much of a questionable look.

"I believe we need a minutes to ourselves to think about this." This time, Volkhard was the first to speak up. "Tell you what, why don't you let us go for now. We come back with your son, you know what we want. If the guards come for you first, well then you know we've turned you down...not that be a problem for you. It's a minor inconvenience, as you say."

   "Of course," Strathus said. With a quick hand gesture, the iron door swung open on its own. Then, particularly to Sharon, he said, "But you will be back. Because you desire something that only I can provide."
   Sharon's lips curled in disgust, but she said nothing. Only turned and left.

   Sharon climbed up the ladder to the shop's back room, followed by Merissa. Fallah, who stood by the door and had it cracked open slightly for the light, lit the lantern in her hand once she saw them.
   "You can't do this, Sharon," Merissa said.
   "You're wrong," Sharon said. "Because I can. I have to. And I will."
   A tired smile. "I can hardly imagine that you'd be helping anyone if you wound up dead, Sharon. Didn't our dear friend Otto say something similar only moments ago?"
   Sharon shook her head. "You weren't there. In Cerenis. You didn't see that fucking dungeon with your own eyes. Maybe you'd understand if you did."
   A strained effort to remain cordial from Merissa. "Sharon. You know the rule, dear. We cannot harm any Reajh authorities. That's the end of the story. A dreadful thing, that curse on Ms. Rains, but unfortunately Strathus is unwilling to bargain—"
   "What happened to you, Merissa? Huh? The "legendary" thief you claimed to be? You lose your damn spine? Or were you always so yellow?"
   "Be careful with your words, Sharon. I may very well be one of few friends you can truly depend on in your little endeavor."
   Sharon scoffed. "That remains to be seen, doesn't it?"
   Merissa turned to Volkhard. "Volkhard, dear, my sincerest gratitude for your services today. It is most unfortunate that Strathus happened to be so obstinate, but such is life. Sharon will be along shortly to provide payment for services rendered."
   Sharon turned to Otto. "Don't listen to her. We're not done here, okay? This isn't about what's directly in front of us; it's about the big picture. This is the first step on the road to something that will do Reajh a whole lot of good. It's an ugly first step, for sure, but I can't do what I need to do without Jessos' know-how. And if this is what it's gotta be, then so be it."
   Merissa. "You're a good man, aren't you, Volkhard? Surely you know that this is a fool's errand. Our mistake, to think that Strathus would demand something reasonable for his services. My apologies for wasting your time."
   Sharon. "Otto. Look. You were ready to hand over an unwilling person to Strathus. Didn't even think twice about it. What difference does it make if the one person Strathus wants happens to have a little guard force with him? If we pull this off right, they won't even know what happened. No one will."
   Sharon and Merissa glanced to one another. At-odds looks from each.

Otto was the first to pop out of the hole, followed by Volkhard and his clanking armor. The two stood side by side, watching the two women go at each other. When they had stop, the two men looked at each for a brief moment, before looking back.

Once again, Volkhard was the first to speak. "Although I no longer believe in the church, but uh...your asking me to attack fellow countrymen; military personnel, heavy cavalry no less."

"The man has also done nothing wrong." Otto said as Volkhard finished. "The men I've elected to bring here have done far worse; they would've have ended up as examples to the rest..."

"Besides, might lose my credibility with the military lads here if I'd just up and attacked one of they're unit's, never mind it being a suicide mission with just 4 of us." Volkhard said, at first frowning, before he gave a sigh. "What exactly happened to your friend that cursed her? Or him?"

   Sharon tossed her hands up in an exasperated way when Volkhard asked his question. "Unbelievable. I already told you. Remember? A mage named Aven Alveron attacked us and put that curse on Jessos." And with a quick glare to Otto, added, "And she didn't deserve what happened to her either. I don't fucking feel good about Michael and what Strathus wants. Not one bit. But I'm not only doing this to help out a friend in need, I'm doing this for a larger. Cause. Okay? More important than either me or Jessos."
   Merissa, feeling vindicated that both Volkhard and Otto had opted for her restrained approach, said with confidence, "Sharon, surely there is another way. Perhaps we—"
   "You were the one who suggested Strathus to me, Merissa! And now we know he can do what I need! This is it!"
   "You need Jessos' experience. Her advice and guidance. That's the end game here, not Michael. Perhaps we can simply talk to her. Convince her—"
   "That won't work. One, because she hates my guts for what I did in Cerenis, and second, because she won't settle for just being an adviser. Not after what Deegan did to her. I need to give her back what she lost, what I had to take from her to keep her alive. Purpose. Purpose, Merissa. You understand?"
   Merissa opened her mouth to speak again, but Sharon held up her hand. Interrupting her.
   "Listen. Volkhard. Otto. This doesn't have to be a suicide mission. I wouldn't even give it a moment's thought if I thought it was one. But we can do this. We can come up with a plan. Disguises. A distraction. Something. Whatever it takes to be in and out like ghosts. Okay?"

"Alright lass, slow down." Volkhard said as he brought his mace onto his shoulder. "Again, I don't think assaulting heavy cavalry, heavy armored cavalry, on foot. Even if we did have a plan, 4 is still to low of a number for us to pull off anything effective."

Volkhard looked between the two women as he said the next part. "Have you thought about other options? Going out of the country to seek help? Maybe Serendipity? I'm pretty sure there are stronger mages there who'd work for less."

   Sharon shook her head, a plain look of loathing spreading across her face.
   Useless. All three of them. Volkhard refused to think outside the box, Otto—surprisingly—was too caught up in Michael's innocence, and Merissa worried about getting caught too much to even try.
   And try going out of the country? Sharon could barely stomach meeting one mage in the middle of Reajh, much less traveling abroad again to lands full of them and disgusting non-humans. And how could she even convince Jessos to travel with her on an uncertain mission into unfamiliar lands to meet random unknown mages in the vague hope that one of them might be able to do what was necessary? Or, worse, what if Sharon did find such a mage? If Jessos—in all likelihood—wasn't with her, then Sharon would have traffic a filthy mage into Reajh, and she'd be responsible for making Reajh that much worse with the presence of more vile magic.
   No. Sharon would have none of it.
   So she scoffed. Raised her hands up in a dismissive manner. Said, "You know what? We're done here." She turned swiftly on her heel and started toward Fallah and the door. "Come on. Back to Reajh's Finest; that's where your payments are stashed. You two can take your money and run with your tails tucked between your legs."
   Sharon pushed past Fallah, almost knocking the woman over, and shoved the door open. Stormed through the front of the shop and shoved the front door open and stepped outside onto the street.
   And she pinched the bridge of her nose with her index finger and thumb.
   So this was how it was going to have to be. Once she ditched Volkhard, Otto, and Merissa, she'd have to figure out a way to extract Michael from the Church and the Ansgar's Hand soldiers.
   By herself.

   Merissa watched Sharon push past Fallah and storm out of the shop.
   And she looked up to Volkhard. A motherly look, one of clear disappointment for what she had witnessed. She sighed. "It would seem that the fires of youth burn a bit too brightly, at times."

"Can't say I'd disagree with ya. I've seen men in their youth think that they'd be invincible enough ta take on the world." Volkhard said, giving another sigh.  "It was back in the army...needless to say it did not end well."

Otto had put away his knife and now had his hands in his pockets. He said nothing, as he stared ahead after Sharon.

"Keep an' eye on her." said Volkhard directly to Melissa."Make sure she ain't doing anything she'd regret."

   "I'll have a little chat with her," Merissa said. Then she gestured her head toward the door leading out of the back room. "Shall we go then? We've still got the small matter of your payment to attend to."
   With a smile, Merissa walked out of the back room and out of the shop.
   And Fallah watched her go. Didn't think too much about what might of happened down there with Strathus.


   Back to Reajh's Finest.
   In addition to providing a secure place to conduct secret meetings, the proprietors of the inn also offered to hold onto sensitive and valueable items for their clients. It was often the case with such meetings that neither party wanted to arrive with their respective items or currency on hand. Only when some form of cordial agreement had been met was it safe to show the goods, and that's when the proprietors would withdraw the items from their hidden cache.
   Merissa had done this with Sharon's money, the payment for Volkhard and Otto. So she went inside the inn while Sharon waited outside, in the same spot beside the front doors as earlier in the day.
   Sharon didn't bother to try to hold a conversation with either Volkhard or Otto. Didn't even look at them. Too busy thinking. Planning. The walk from Fallah's Remedies back to the Finest gave her plenty of time to test out a variety of strategies in her mind. And one stood out as being the most viable for a solo mission.
   She couldn't go in and try to grab Michael covertly. Not during the convoy to Church nor when he was in the Church itself. Too many people would probably be present. Needed an elaborate distraction and/or disguised accomplices running misdirection and playing key parts in a well-thought-out ploy to get Michael out without being noticed.
   No. As crazy as it sounded in her head, she'd have to go loud. Violence of action from the start. Generate as much chaos as possible. Slip away in the confusion.
   And Strathus had just the thing for the job in his lair.
   Crates and crates of highly explosive Ignis Root-Crystal Vane mixture.
   And as Sharon thought about it.
   She smirked.
   Ever so slightly.

Volkhard sat their, counting his coins, seperating them out from the rest of his payments.. After a bit of time, he pushed a few into his palms, before pocketing them into his own money bag.

He then took the rest of his payment, and tossed the money bag back at the two women. "Keep the rest, I only need a few for eating and sleeping, maybe the occasional polish for the armor and a drink for this old soul."

Otto had already pocketed his share without a word or bother to count the coins. He just sat at the table, arms folded, a untouched mug of alcohol in front of him, as he stared at Sharon without a word.

"Money ain't much to an old soldier like me." said Volkhard as he grabbed his mug from the table. "Don't have much to spend it on...though, a good story to humor me is something I value a little more."

He took a swig from his mug, before looking over. "This Aven fella, ya said he had something to do with the Hand of Ansger?"

   Merissa had gotten the payment from the innkeeper after a few minutes of waiting. Sharon followed her back inside she came out and tapped her on the shoulder. Now, Sharon and Merissa sat a table in the inn's bar with Volkhard and Otto.
   Sharon waited. Watched as Volkhard counted the coins. Once he was satisfied that all of it was there, then she could go—she didn't have much time to waste.
   Then he tossed the pouch back to her. She caught it, a bit surprised that he decided not to take all of it. Sharon just handed it over to Merissa, who pocketed it; she didn't need the extra weight slowing her down.
   And Volkhard had a question.
   "Yes. I did," Sharon said curtly as she stood up from the table. "Now, I have somewhere to be. Good day."
   As she turned to go, Merissa twisted around in her chair and said, "Sharon, dear, won't you spare a moment to entertain our good friends? Surely you'd like to unwind after such a harrowing encounter."
   "No. I wouldn't. Take care, Merissa."
   Sharon started again, walking toward the doorway leading of the bar and into the main lobby.
   Merissa stood. Said, "You can't go, Sharon."
   Sharon stopped. At the edge separating the bar room and the main lobby. Turned. A few of the other patrons in the bar were looking at her and Merissa.
   "Sit down," Sharon said.
   "Sharon, please. I think you'll find that a little chat can solve—"
   "Sit down, Merissa. I'm going."
   "That would be a grave mistake, Sharon."
   Sharon rested her hand on her holstered main pistol. More wary eyes on her from the other patrons. "And what are you going to do to stop me? Hmm?"
   Merissa said nothing.
   "That's what I thought."

Volkhard said nothing, instead taking a sip out of his mug, as he sat there staring at where the two women were. Otto did the same, keep his silence.

The two sat their for a few moments, before Volkhard glanced at Otto. "Well, I suppose that's tha-"

"You know she's going to try to get the man, by herself." Otto suddenly interjected.

"No shit." said Volkhard. "But I can't risk...my reputation. I know people in the army, too many to betray their trust for somthing, I dare say, as pity as this...especially after this Aven fella, I have at least an obligation to do something. Can't exactly do it if I am behind bars or branded as an enemy of the state."

Otto said nothing as he continued to stare into the space. Volkhard glanced at him, and said "You aren't considering going after her?"

"She is going to get herself killed."

"You can't talk her out of a person that stubborn...I've seen more then one of her kind."

"Then you know this is preventable."

"Maybe...but." Volkhard sighed. "I can't, not for her...least not between the boys and her."

A minute went past, Volkhard returned to looking into empty space, taking a chug out of his mug. He then wiped his mouth and put the mug back onto the table.

Volkhard looked over to Otto, then he looked up and sighed again, before returning his attention to Otto.

"Don't get yourself killed."  Volkhard said. "I'll be around the city for a bit, then I am heading up North to visit a friend or two...got information for them."

Otto nodded, he said nothing, his eyes dead, but he was paying attention at every single word Volhard said.

"Take of yourself, you hear...and good luck." Volkhard said, as he closed his eyes and leaned his head back.

A minute later he opened his eyes, and Otto was gone, his mug still left untouched. The window to the hall outside of the room was suddenly open, the breeze blew the curtains to the side.

Volkhard only smiled to himself, as he grabbed the mug again...

   Merissa watched Sharon disappear into the main lobby of the inn. Heard Volkhard and Otto talking behind her at the table. And she thought for a moment.
   Perhaps Sharon was right. Perhaps Merissa had lost her spine for this sort of life. The change from the norm, the shaking up of the established rules, the lovely chaos, and the perilous nature of Sharon's plan to bring order to Reajh's underworld had appealed to Merissa. It promised a spot of fun, a departure from the cozy life she had been living for the last thirteen years.
   But her love for her son Niko won out over the yearning she had to relive the life of her younger self. And if Sharon was truly incorrigible on this, and if the worst came to pass, then someone would need to look after little Siro.
   When she turned around, Otto was gone. Just Volkhard and her at the table now.
   She smiled. Sat back down. Folded her arms on the table. "I should hope that your dear friend Otto has more luck than I do." She eyed his mug, and added, "I don't normally drink very often, much less so when it comes to beers and ales, but, if there ever was an appropriate time, now would most certainly be it."
   And she signaled to the bartender to come over.


   The Ansgar's Hand Headquarters in Reajh.
   Torjus "Pretty Boy" Barmen led his horse Sledge out of the stables. The three other Corporals coming with him on this mission were by the passenger carriage with the guard sergeant. Two of them were affixing the reins and straps to the horses and the carriage while he briefed them.
   "Who is this guy, anyway?" asked one of the Corporals.
   "Our VIP is some kind of defector," the sergeant said. "Used to work with some small-time insurgent forces here in Reajh. Knows things. Tipped off the guard to the locations of some of these insurgent cells and their mages. Used to practice magic with them, but now he wants to confess at A.E.G."
   Torjus chuckled as he stood by the other Corporals. "Been wondering why some civilian was allowed to stay here and eat our food the past few days."
   "Yeah, well that's why." The sergeant glanced between the four Corporals. "Look, I know you boys are tough. Don't need to hear shit from some crusty old guard sergeant. But my officers wouldn't have talked to your officers if they didn't think something might happen today."
   One of the Corporals, the joker of the squad, grinned and said, "Oh yeah. We did have a lot of beans for chow last night. This VIP guy might light the carriage on fire when he shoots a fireball out of his ass."
   Torjus and the other Corporals laughed.
   The sergeant glanced over his shoulder, spotting Michael Armstrong in the distance, coming toward them across the courtyard from the barracks. "Alright, alright, settle down. Here he comes. Just stay alert, would ya? Mages are a fuckin' vindictive bunch."
   Torjus slipped on his helmet. Jumped up onto Sledge's saddle.
   Should be an easy assignment.


   "I need to see Strathus," Sharon said as soon as she pushed open the door to Fallah's Remedies.
   Both Fallah and Lenius looked up from the table behind the counter. Stopped their work on making the potions. No small amount of bewilderment on their faces. Just the three of them in the shop.
   "I was just here. Blue mortar and pestle, whatever you need to hear. Listen, Strathus wants something, and in order for me to get that something for him, I have to borrow some tools. He has what I need. So let me see him."
   Lenius glanced at Fallah. She put down the potion bottle on the table, stood, and said, "Very well."
   Into the back room.
   Down through the secret trap door.
   Through the heavy iron door.
   And back into the dim lair with Strathus.
   The sorcerer turned around once again, his back to the glowing altar. A rush of air into his mask. "You've returned, as I suspected."
   Sharon stood before the mage with no fear. Only a solid determination. "I'm going to get your son."
   "Yes. Of course you are. Because you desire something. It does not matter what it is—only that you desire it. And you will do what is necessary to obtain it. A delusion, that we may act for others and not for ourselves. Notions of goodness and righteousness. The illusion that we may be a better self than who we truly are. This is the lie we seek." A distorted chuckle from behind the mask. "Tell me, what is it that you require?""
   Sharon glanced over to Fallah beside her. Then back at the sorcerer.
   And said firmly, "Smoke bombs. Two more pistols. And as many crates of explosives as you can spare."

"He's not much of a social person...but..." Volkhard said. "He has a few tricks up his sleeves."

Volkhard took another sip of his mug, before staring at the open window,..

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Otto had taken to the roofs the moment he had exited through the window. He had been shadowing the women on top of the roofs, taking care not to be spotted.

He followed her back to the medicine store, hiding behind one of the chimney, he observed
ed her going in.

Why ever she was in here, she need somthing from the old man...

   Merissa sipped on the ale that she purchased. A pity, that they didn't have wine on offer here. Seemed most of the patrons simply preferred anything but that, and the bartender's supply reflected the demand.
   And she wondered. About Sharon. And about Volkhard and Aven.
   Aven had appeared to be a perfectly cordial and reasonable person when Merissa had met him. And she had trouble discerning if it was Aven who had lied to her then, or if it was Sharon who was lying about Aven now.
   Either way, Aven was a mage, one who had played a very dangerous game. And Volkhard, a former military man, seemed keen on following up on Sharon's tip. A dreadful thing, if such a handsome young man like Aven met an untimely end. But that was life.
   Merissa pushed aside the mug of ale and said, "Do you have any children, Volkhard?"


   Torjus watched the man approach. He had his wife with him. A girl, about five or six years old. His wife carried a baby boy in her arms.
   "Mr. Armstrong," said the sergeant when they came within speaking distance. "Mrs. Armstrong. Good day."
   "Good day," Michael said. "Is it...just you five?"
   "It'll be a short ride," the sergeant said. "The Church of Ansgar's Eternal Glory isn't all that far from here."
   Emogene Armstrong looked to her husband. Her worry ill-concealed.
   Kate, the girl, pointed to Sledge and asked her father, "Can I ride on the horse?"
   Michael crouched down and pointed at the carriage, redirecting her attention. "We're going to ride in the carriage there. Won't that be fun?"
   Her eyes lit up. "Okay!"
   Torjus smiled as he watched her run over to the carriage door and jump and jump and try to reach the knob to open it. He dismounted from Sledge and walked over to the door and opened it up, then helped Kate hop inside.
   The sergeant looked back to Michael. "Is this the last cell that you know about?"
   He nodded. "Yes. It's...the one hiding my father."
   "Then we need to get this done. All the other cells and their mages have been rounded up. You'll be safe after this, sir."
   And then the sergeant motioned toward Torjus and the open carriage door.
   Michael looked to Emogene.
   And she tried to smile. "We'll be fine. Surely. We're doing God's work today."


   Strathus was more than willing to oblige.
   Fallah, at his request, climbed up into the back room of the shop and procured a satchel of smoke bombs, and the pistols belonging to her and Lenius. Meanwhile, Sharon grabbed two empty wooden crates and laid them beside the walls of the lair. A quick spell from the sorcerer and a small sliver of the wall peeled up like paper, spilling its contents down into the crates.
   Ignis Root. Crystal Vane. Two naturally occurring plants that, on their own, weren't dangerous. They could be refined into two different drugs: Root providing a rush and a fervent pleasure, Vane slowing the body down, letting the mind drift high and relaxed. But they could be mixed together and enriched with some minor enchantments to produce a more intense version of both effects simultaneously to the user; a throbbing pleasure in one's body as the mind sailed on a wonderful hallucinatory journey through the stars.
   But the mixture was dangerous. Extremely volatile. With the right amount of heat, a catastrophic reaction would follow, releasing a massive explosion as both the chemical and magical bonds violently unraveled. Add in a sprinkle of gunpowder to ignite the mixture, and it made an incredibly destructive bomb.
   So, when Fallah came back down and saw two whole crates being loaded with the mixture, she had to ask, "Are you...sure about this?"
   Sharon didn't look at her. Just watched the powdery mixture pour down into the crate. "I need to make sure I have enough to knock that cavalry clean off of their horses."
   When the crates were filled, Strathus stepped forward. "Allow me." And he cast a simple enchantment to decrease the weight of the crates. "Fallah will help you prepare. Then it is up to you, young Sharon."
   Fallah picked up one of the crates. And Sharon picked up the other.
   "I'll get it done," Sharon said.
   And the sorcerer nodded. Said, "Because you must."

   Sharon and Fallah exited the apothecary shop, each carrying unmarked crates in their arms.
   And they started down the street, walking in the direction of the Church.

Volkhard sat his mug down, staring into space, before his good eye looked over to Melissa. "Nah, never found anyone to settle down with, and well...it's too late for me now."

He took a minute to think, before he continued. "I've always wanted my own, though...but in this world...not here at least."

He lifted his mug and took another sip.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Otto squinted at the boxes, seemed like there were carrying something, and he was willing to bet that it was something violent, or at least something for the ambush.

Looking over from the roof tops, he spotted the church. Otto began running, jumping over from building to building, passersby below were oblivious to his actions.

There plan was in action...whether they were succeed, he had to see.

   "Ah, quite the busy bee, hmm?"
   Merissa covered her mouth and chuckled. She eyed her mug of ale, but opted not to take another drink for now.
   "It changes you," she said, "in a very fundamental way. The things you'll do. The things you won't do. A tempering, of sorts. Not necessarily for better or worse, but simply...different than what came before. Some people don't want it. Some people don't need it, but some..." Merissa shook her head, thinking of Sharon, "...could certainly use it. Perhaps not a child and a family and all of that, but that same sort of tempering. A counterbalance to one's worst self."
   Second thoughts. Merissa took hold of the mug and sipped on the ale again and set it down. "I think Sharon's own counterbalance, her younger sister Siro, isn't nearly strong enough. Not anymore, at least."


   The Church of Ansgar's Eternal Glory was enormous, one of several huge churches dotting Reajh. The massive open city square in front of the Church's doors was filled with a large crowd, over fifty people. A nobleman's wedding had just concluded and all the guests and family members of the bride and groom were outside, chatting and celebrating and drinking wine.
   Sharon and Fallah, following the flow of other commoners, walked around the large wedding gathering at the foot of the gigantic Church. Sharon couldn't help but glance up at the twin steeples of the Church rising up into the sky.
   And they walked around the city square and the wedding crowd to the other side. Back to small buildings and enclosed streets.
   Fallah walked to one street in particular, her back to the square and the crowd. "Here. This street is part of the most direct route from the Ansgar's Hand compound to the Church. They'll likely come down this way."
   Sharon waited until a man and his wife passed them. Then said, "And if they don't?"
   "That's your problem."
   It didn't take long to find the ideal spot. A closed down shop, abandoned by the owner, only a brisk walk from the square. Sharon could still hear the vague celebratory murmurings of the wedding crowd in the air. Could still see them down the street and across the square with a glance.
   Fallah tried the door. Open, surprisingly enough. She entered, and Sharon followed.
   Dim inside, with only the light leaking in from the large shop window by the front door. A fine layer of dust on what remained: the counter, some shelves, some broken crates and partially stripped barrels.
   "Here," Sharon said, setting down her crate by the window. Then she nodded toward the dirt alley across the street, visible from the vantage point of the shop window. "I'll have good line-of-sight to here from down there. I don't want to be anywhere near this when it goes off."
   Fallah put down her crate on top of Sharon's. Then they gathered the other crates and barrels and shelves and loose pieces of wood and cluttered the area up. Made it look inconspicuous. Just like a closed down shop ought to look from the window.
   Sharon exited the shop first. Looked up the street. No one. Looked down the street. Only the wedding crowd, some hundred yards or so away by the Church. Then she nodded, and Fallah came out.
   "I need to borrow your scarf," Sharon said.
   Somewhat annoyed, Fallah nevertheless took it off and handed it to Sharon. "Come a little more prepared next time."
   "This isn't how I wanted this to happen," Sharon said as she tied the scarf around her neck, ready to be lifted up to cover her face. "But this is how it needs to happen."
   A pause. Then Fallah handed over the satchel of smoke bombs with the two spare pistols to Sharon, who slipped the strap over her shoulder. Said, "Good luck," before she started to walk away. Back toward her apothecary shop.
   Just her now.
   Sharon walked over to the intersection between the street and the small dirt alley. Casually leaned up against one of the buildings, facing down the street toward the open square and the wedding crowd outside the Church. She'd have to look back over her shoulder to see up the street, the direction Michael was supposed to be coming from, but her position by the building concealed much of her body from sight from up the street. She could spot the convoy coming and disappear instantly into the alley. They'd probably never even see her, or not make much of it if they did. Just the face of a random commoner slipping away behind the building. Simply making way for the carriage. No one important.
   Sharon crossed her arms.
   And waited.
   As her heart beat steadily in her chest.

"Aye, if you were a family man ya have more to lose...I've seen men with nothing to lose before...they'd throw everything they'd have into the ring, maybe they'd thought that they could gain somthing worth living for."

A moment of silence from him, before he went on. "The lass needs some sort of anchor, keeps her from floating away too far into the clouds."
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Otto climbed up to the side of the building, the roof keeping him covered as he peeked over the edge.

It took him a minute to scan the crowd, before he spotted the two entering a building. He was debating weather to follow down, but then the two women came out. 

They talked, and Otto watched, before the two women separated. He watched as Sharon leaned against the wall.

It was clear to him why she was there, but how was she going to execute things?...

   The guard sergeant driving the carriage turned onto the last street, a few passersby standing and waiting for the carriage and the four Ansgar's Hand riders to pass.
   Torjus rode his horse to the left of the carriage, in the rear position. He could see into the carriage through one of the side windows. Saw Kate and Emogene and the baby in her arms. Saw Michael.
   A man trying to clean up his life. Not all that different from Torjus himself.
   The carriage continued down the road. The towering steeples of the Church of Ansgar's Eternal Glory were getting closer and closer. Clearly visible over the low rooftops of the surrounding buildings of the street.
   Torjus kept watch as his mount Sledge trotted along.
   Watched the windows of shops. The doors of homes. The alleys that seemed to appear and disappear without warning to either side of him.
   If the sergeant was right, and an attack did happen, it could come from anywhere. And the enclosed street they were on was a terrible location for mounted combat.
   But it was just a little further. And it'd be done.
   A slight bend in the street, and Torjus could see the end of it in the distance. The massive city square in front of the Church. The large wedding crowd outside the Church—a tiny swarm of people.
   Just a little further.

   Sharon saw them. A carriage. Two armored riders on either side of it. Total of four. Had to be it.
   She walked down the alley in a hurry. Trying to judge what a safe distance might be on the fly. But there was no way to know for sure. And the further she got from the closed down shop, the harder the shot to ignite the explosives would be.
   So she stopped and turned around. A good sprint away from the shop. Some forty or so yards it seemed. It would have to do.
   She glanced up and down the narrow alley.
   Alone. No witnesses. Good.
   Sharon reached into the satchel and withdrew both pistols and aimed them down the alley. The shop window a small square in the distance.
   She started counting in her head.
   A tricky thing. She needed the convoy to be close, but not too close. If she fired too soon, the explosion might not do the damage necessary to incapacitate, disorient, and wound the soldiers. If she fired too late, she risked killing Michael outright.
   And she counted. Tried to think about the slow speed of the convoy and the position she had seen it in and how long it would take for it to approach the shop and—
   Someone passed by the shop. A civilian. Appearing and disappearing from sight at the far end of the alley in an instant.
   Sharon steadied her breath. No turning back. Not when she was so close to pulling this off.
   And she counted.
   Her fingers on the triggers.
   And fired both pistols.

   The bullets from the pistols tore into one of the crates. The force of the impact heated the volatile Ignis-Crystal mixture, and the intense heat from the mixture ignited the gunpowder, and the flames from the gunpowder set off the catastrophic reaction.
   A deafening clap. A massive cloud of dust and debris shooting into the air; a thick stem of dust crowned by a massive curling ball of fire and smoke. A shockwave rushing in every direction, shattering glass and violently rumbling the very foundations of the buildings it touched.
   The entire closed down shop was obliterated.
   Pieces of it were sprayed into the surrounding buildings and streets and high into the air. Pelting everything nearby with superheated chunks of stone from the street and the foundation and jagged shards of wood from the shop.
   From afar, the explosion looked akin to a volcanic eruption. A devastating and horrific scene. In the middle of the city.

   Screams from the wedding crowd. They pointed and ran and shouted and turned and hid their faces and sheltered their loved ones and shrieked and ducked and panicked and fainted and said quick prayers.
   All this, as the shockwave hit them and knocked the majority of them over. Smacked them hard in their chests and stole the air from their lungs. And the debris showered down on them.

   One moment, everything was quiet.
   The next, Torjus was blown clear off of Sledge. Even the front wheels of the carriage were lifted from the ground momentarily before slamming back down.
   Torjus hit the street hard.
   He felt blood. Leaking from his ears. His nose. His mouth.
   He couldn't hear anything.
   And a plume of dust swallowed him.

   The shockwave bowled the unprepared Sharon over, knocking the pistols from her hands and her body straight to the ground.
   A painful ringing in her ears, drowning out much of the world.
   And a plume of a dust and dirt, channeled down the alley by the buildings, rushed toward her.
   "Shit!" she said, rolling over onto her stomach and covering her head.
   The plume washed over her, turning day into night for a short, terrifying moment.
   Sharon stood, coughing and wheezing harshly. The dust was everywhere. In her ears. Her nose. Her eyes. Her hair. Her mouth. Her throat. The very pores of her skin.
   The entire alley was hazy with it, as if a fog made entirely of dust had descended on Reajh. She could barely see beyond arm's length. The smoke bombs would be redundant.
   So she dropped the satchel. Pulled up the scarf to her nose to mask her face.
   And ran as fast as she could.
   Limited time. To get to the carriage and get Michael out in the chaos and confusion.
   If he was even still alive after that.


   Thunder. In the distance.
   And the glasses and mugs and tables and chairs and walls and the floor itself rattled. Murmurs from the patrons.
   Merissa glanced at Volkhard.
   Mounting concern sinking into her expression.

Volkhard snorted, but said nothing. He then suddenly got up, grabbing his shield, he fitted it onto his left hand before grabbing his great mace.

"Looks like a storms a coming, better go before it starts raining." Volkhard said, now looking at Melissa. "If she comes back alive, well....better make sure she doesn't get herself killed."

Volkhard turned to leave, stopping at the door way to turn around at Melissa and give her a two finger salute. "Take care of yourself lassy." Before he was gone out the door.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
This...this was...what he should of expected.

Otto could of turned and left, ignored the entire thing and let things play it's course.

But he couldn't shake the feeling that this, was wrong.

Otto grabbed somthing from his quote, then leaped over the ledge, turning around and threw somthing. It was his grappling hook. As it caught onto somthing, Otto slid and swung down to ground level, before unhooking it and catching it.

Otto was in an ally, running out into the confusion. He saw the dust and smoke was advancing onto the panicking crowed. It was plain for him what was going on, he began to flow against the crowed and towards the smoke. He had a mental image of where the cart was before the explosion, and moved for it as he himswas of disappeared into the smoke...

   Everything hurt.
   Torjus tried to push himself up to his hands and knees. His arms and legs trembled and gave out. The taste of blood in his mouth.
   To his left, he saw his mount Sledge laying on his side. Flopping around in a frantic, hopeless panic. The horse's two front legs severed at the knees. Ragged flesh and muscle hanging.
   To his right, he saw the carriage through the haze. The windows on the door blown out. Shattered glass on the street. Blood seeping down the door from the broken window.
   Torjus tried crawling.
   Putting one arm in front of the other.
   He dragged his body an inch forward.
   And then he saw her boots. Right in front of him.
   Torjus looked up. And the dust revealed a masked woman. Reddish-orange hair. Blue eyes staring down at him.
   Their eyes met.
   Torjus saw a flash of surprise. But it disappeared quickly. Gave way to something far more predatory. A brief look of dominance. Of enjoyment.
   The woman pulled out a pistol and shot him in the side of his head, the bullet penetrating his helmet.
   Blackness.

   Sharon holstered the pistol.
   He saw her. She had to do it. It didn't matter how she felt about it. So much more was at stake.
   Sharon threw open the door and grabbed the handle on the side of the carriage and put her foot on the step and hoisted herself up and looked inside.
   "Oh...f-fuck."
   Emogene was dead. A piece of wood had impaled her through the gut from behind. The baby in her arms bled from the ears and nose, but was alive and crying and wailing desperately. A six-year-old girl, the daughter, was unconscious on the floor of the carriage. And Michael, sitting across from his dead wife, coughed and coughed and wiped at his dirty face. A stream of blood from his nose, a trickle from his ears. His wife's blood splattered on his clothes.
   Strathus had said that he'd be traveling with his family. But the thought never truly registered in Sharon's mind. She thought only of Michael to the point that she had blocked out the very notion that he wouldn't be alone in the carriage.
   But it was too late. Sharon couldn't undo what she had done. Surely, the first few people arriving to the scene would help the baby and girl. They would be fine. Of course they would.
   All Sharon could do was complete her task.
   "Michael!" she yelled. It was the only way she could even hear herself over the intense ringing in her ears. "I'm here to get you out!"
   "I can't see!" He replied. "I can't see anything! Emogene! Kate! Where are you?"
   "Take my hand! We're going to a safehouse! Now! Let's go!"
   Sharon helped Michael out of the carriage.
   "My wife! My daugh—!"
   "They're right behind us! Now run! Run!"
   Sharon started running, essentially pulling Michael along by the hand as the man staggered and stumbled and tried as hard as he could to keep up as he wheezed and coughed and gasped for breath.
   The dusty haze wouldn't last for much longer. And Sharon needed to get away before anyone else spotted her. Less complicated that way. Less lies to tell. A quicker, cleaner getaway.
   She made a quick turn down the alley that she had made the shot from.
   And ran, with Michael in tow.

*Bam*

Otto's head turned at the sound, and began moving for it as the shot was still echoing.

It didn't take him long to arrive at the ambush scene, running up, he paused a moment to scan the scene.

The first thing he spotted was a body of a what looked like a knight. He moved closer and crouched down next to the body, a quick inspection revealed that he was shot through the head. It was then Otto remembered that the women he had been following was armed with a pistol, so it was pretty obvious she was here. Otto then began to inspect the entrance of the bullet, and retraced it. It was a bit hard to see, but he could make out a vague alleyway. Must of been where she came from.

Otto got up, still looking at the alleyway, before he realised something. He looked over to the scene again, and saw where the smoke was pouring from. That's where the explosion must of happen, and she was right there when...

Waaah!

When Otto heard that sound, he froze where he stood. That couldn't be....

Waaaaaah!

No

Waaah!

No

Waaaaah!

No!

Waaah!

Noo!

One minute he was standing in the middle of streets filled with smoke, the next minute he was alone, standing on that highway, in front of him was a carriage, and within it, the corpses of th-

No!

It was too much, so much so that it caused Otto to fall to one knee, clutching his head as he remembered every detail of that night.

Not again!

....

Not again

....

Waaaaah

The sound the baby snapped Otto out of his trans, his focus was now on the carriage.

He dashed forward and peered in, his heart sank when he saw the women, it was obvious she didn't make it.

But then his attention was grabbed by the baby, who was still conscious. He stepped in, but then realized that there was a young girl on the floor, couldn't be more then 6, 7 years old. He stepped over, his pounding as he reached over to feel a pulse, a bit a relief washed over when he realized that she was still breathing.

But then it was the matter of the baby, he looked up and to his horror the baby was bleeding. Quickly, he grabbed a knife from his pocket, moving for the women, he sliced off a long piece of fabric from her dress. She was dead now, but he might be able to save her son.

Otto then turned to the boy, reaching out, he gently grabbed the boy's arm, trying to move it away from the eyes. Otto's arms were shaking, but he was too focus on the boy to tell.

   The curling cloud of smoke and dust drifted with the wind.
   The body of the guard sergeant who had been driving the carriage. Dead on the street. One of the Corporals dead next to him. The two other Corporals, both heavily wounded and unconscious, one slowly bleeding out. Torjus, the bullet slowed enough by his helmet to protect his skull from being penetrated, had nevertheless slipped into a coma. All the horses were now dead.
   Kate on the floor of the carriage, unconscious.
   The baby boy, wailing.
   And the nearest guards a minute away from the scene.


   "Where's Siro?" Merissa said as soon as she opened the front door to her home.
   Her son, Niko, looked up from his chores in the kitchen. "She's in my room. Reading her books."
   Merissa walked across the living room and past the kitchen and down the hallway to Niko's room. Opened the door. Siro was lying on Niko's bed, on her stomach with her knees bent and her feet in the air, and open book before her.
   "Hi, Nana," she said.
   Merissa looked at her, this girl who for all intent and purposes was her granddaughter. This girl who was nothing like her sister.
   "Hello, sweetheart," Merissa said as she came forward and sat down on the bed. "Which book are you reading now?"
   "Tales from the Thunderblacks," she said with a big smile. "Did you know that dragons live there? Real, living dragons in the mountains."
   "Sounds fantastic." Merissa leaned in some. "Siro, do you remember that one book you told me about? Some two months ago? The one about Adela?"
   "Histories of Adela? Sure I do."
   "And Sanctuary? The Healer's College?"
   "Of course, Nana. Why do you ask?"
   Merissa smiled, her true intentions like a dagger through her heart. "How would you like to visit there? Perhaps sometime soon?"


   "In here. Hurry."
   Sharon opened the door to Fallah's Remedies. Gestured for Michael to enter, the man having  slowly regained his vision in the run back to the apothecary shop. Michael went inside, and Sharon followed, closing the door behind herself.
   Upon seeing them, Fallah moved from the front counter and opened the door to the back room.
   "Where's Emogene? Kate? My baby Nolan?"
   "They'll be here soon," Sharon said. "Other agents of Ansgar's Hand arrived on the scene after me. They're taking them here as well."
   Michael glanced around the shop. At Fallah. At Lenius, her assistant. And back at Sharon.
   "I-I want to see them," he said. "I'm not going anywhere else until I do!"
   Sharon looked over shoulder. Out the shop window at the street. Nobody looking to come into the shop. Nobody really paying attention. Hardly anybody on the street.
   She drew her reserve pistol and tossed it into her right hand and aimed it at Michael's head.
   "You're going to want to start walking now."
   Michael gasped, and his arms went up in surrender. "Who...who are you? Really?"
   "Walk. Into the back room. Now."

   Down into Strathus' lair.
   And Michael seemed to realize exactly where he was once Fallah had placed her hand on the heavy iron door. Sharon could hear it in his sporadic breathing.
   The sorcerer turned from the altar once Sharon, Fallah, and Michael entered.
   "My son," Strathus said, extended a hand forward and pointing his palm at him. "At last, you have found your way back to me."
   "Ansgar, no! No! Help me! Help—!"
   A magical force pulled Michael forward, right in front of his father. Then ice burst from the ground and encased Michael's entire body, freezing him solid.
   Sharon didn't flinch. She merely watched with apathy.
   And Strathus looked to Sharon. A pleased look in his eye. "You have upheld your end of the bargain. And so shall I. Return to me with your friend. And I shall transfer this curse unto my son."

   Sharon stepped outside Fallah's Remedies. Onto the street outside. The scarf gone from her neck—returned to Fallah. She glanced up at the sky. The waning afternoon. The tired sun, trying to give way to the early evening. Trying to retreat behind a small patch of clouds.
   She wiped at the dust and dirt stuck to her face.
   And she slowly pulled her hands away. Looked at them. Her palms. Her curled fingers.
   They weren't shaking. Despite what she had done, they weren't trembling in the slightest. If they had been at some point, they were no longer.
   Only a rush of excitement. For pulling off the impossible. For doing what she needed to do.
   A sense of accomplishment. Of being in charge of her own fate. Of finally finding something that was in her all along. No longer was she living on the mercy of others. No longer was she trampled underfoot by those above her, those with power.
   Now she had it. A small taste of it. She was the one who wore the boot, not the one whose face was being crushed into the dirt. Now she was the noblewoman who walked the streets, who eyed the beggars groveling at her feet. And her wealth was violence, her currency the power to take and spare lives, her mercy to do so as she saw fit.
   It was intoxicating. Exhilarating.
   And addicting.

It took him a few minutes to bandage the boy, difficult with the boy struggling and his hands shaking, but the deed was done.

But the boy was still crying, and it was tearing holes through Otto's heart. The man kneeled down on one foot and looked at the boy with eyes that were not dead, but filled with regret.

It was then Otto's ears picked up clanking footsteps, guards! If they caught him here, he would be framed for the entire thing.

He then remembered something from his coat pocket and raised it to the boy. In his hand, he produced a small square item wrapped in paper. Otto unwrapped it, before gently grabbing one of the boy's hands and placing it into his hands. Closing the boys, hands, Otto gave the kid one last look, before he stood up, and barged down the other carriage door with his shoulder.

Otto made his escape with the smoke, down the same ally he had deduced where Sharon came from.

In the boy's hand, was a piece of milk caramel; Otto liked carmel, one of the few things he had enjoyed in his life. It was something that was given to him as a kid, usually out of pity or amusement by the other members of the guild., any time he was anxious he would suck on the sweet caramel. Otto had been saving this particular piece from one of the meals he had earlier in the week. He didn't know if the boy would like it, but it was at least something...

Otto didn't need to second guess where Sharon was going; he KNEW where she was going, but he couldn't go in alone.

As he moved through the allyway, his hand grabbed onto a nearby wanted poster and pulled it...
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At a nearby guard station, a guard was on duty. Suddenly a knife impaled itself on a nearby post.

The guard brought down his weapon and looked in the direction of the knife throw, but he saw only busy streets.

He looked over at the knife and realized there was a piece of paper hanging from the knife. He moved to see what it was, scribbled roughly on it was the words "Mages at Fallah's Remedies"
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The door to the pharmacy was kicked open with great might, from the doorway came the man who had came in earlier, the man with the scarf, and he did not looked pleased. The dead eyes he had before were replaced with those of demons.

He didn't waste any time stride over with powerful step, taking out a pistol and pointing it at the head of Fallah from before.

"Where is he." The man said, in gravelly voice that mixed anger and command into one.

   Fallah's eyes went wide as soon as the door burst open. Lenius, glancing up from his work at the table behind the front counter, jumped out of his chair in shock and stumbled back into the wall, a look of fright from the young man.
   Fallah recognized the gunman as she raised her arms up slowly. The masked man from before. Otto, if she remembered correctly. "You son of a bitch. Do your other three friends know? Hmm? That you're nothing but a rat for the Grand Duke?"
   Where is he, the man's sole question. He had to be talking about Strathus. If only she could warn Volkhard and Sharon and Merissa of Otto's betrayal. Then they could deal with him before he exposed more of the rebel cells and the innocent mages in their care.
   But alas, it wouldn't happen. This was the end of the line for her, one way or another. She knew what she had to do.
   She motioned her head toward the door to the back room of the shop. And with a frustrated huff of breath, she said, "He's downstairs. Same place. I'll open the door for you, just don't shoot me. Okay?"

   Sharon was walking away from Fallah's Remedies, mingling in with three other commoners on the streets when she heard the thump of a boot on wood behind her.
   A glance over her shoulder back at the shop.
   And the door was open. The flash of someone rushing inside. From her vantage point of walking down the street and further away from the shop, it was nearly impossible to see through the shop window. No idea exactly who it was.
   The clanking of armor.
   A small squad of five guardsmen rounded the corner of an upcoming intersection in the street and jogged past Sharon and the other commoners and toward the shop.
   Sharon looked forward, while the other three commoners briefly watched with a vague interest as the squad of guards ran past.
   Was she too late? Did Michael tell the guards about Strathus before he departed for the Church? Did something else happen?
   Sharon kept walking. Blending in.
   It didn't matter. Strathus was a mage—he'd be fine. Finding him again might prove to be difficult, but it would only amount to some lost time and a minor annoyance.
   The important thing was that she had done what she needed to do. Sharon had the means to rid Jessos of her curse, to prove to Jessos that she was serious about what she intended to do. And, with Jessos' knowledge and experience, she could move forward with her gambit.
   Starting her own drug cartel.
   And slowly, meticulously, she could expand her business while finding out the competition. Expose all the Deegans hiding in Reajh. And kill them. Replace them with underbosses loyal to her, and bring her own brand of order to the criminal underground of the city. A lasting change. One that she would control, atop a throne of her own making.
   But for right now, she just needed to find Jessos.
   And the best way to do that would be to find Jorge.
   Who was most likely at his favorite tavern. The Tipped Hand.
   And Sharon kept walking. Paying no more mind to the happenings inside the apothecary shop.

"This isn't about the Duke or his pity grudge." the man in the scarf said as he kept pointing his pistol at her, arriving at the counter. "Open the door, then you and your friend get the hell out of here. You only have 2 minutes before the guards show up or I blow your brains out, and I don't think I need to explain to you what happens if your still here when they do."

   Her hands still held up above her head, Fallah said, "Okay, okay." She walked to the back room door, pushed it open with one hand, and glanced at her assistant. "Just stay calm, Lenius."
   Lenius nodded. Stood still by the wall behind the counter. His eyes darting between Fallah and Otto.
   Fallah entered the back room. Pressed the device inside the barrel to reveal the trap door. Opened it up. Did all of this slowly, without making any sudden moves.
   She descended the ladder down into the dark landing. The dark blue runes on the walls of the small room the only light.
   Fallah stepped forward. Toward the thick iron door. Reached out with her right arm.
   Then jerked her hand toward the wall instead. Touched one of the blue runes. Yelled frantically into it, "Strathus! Guards! Run!"
   Fallah turned around to face Otto. Her hands back into the air. Ready to die for her cause.


   The Tipped Hand. A ratty little tavern in a bad part of the city. Sharon hated it, which probably explained why Jorge loved it. They were polar opposites. Hardly saw eye-to-eye on anything. But, despite her misgivings and lingering grudge against Jorge, she still needed his help.
   The late afternoon sun had sunk low after the long walk from Fallah's Remedies. Not quite night yet, but the light was fading.
   Sharon pushed open the door to the tavern and stepped inside.
   The fireplace was lit. A lantern hanging from the ceiling. But all the tables were empty. The place was deserted, save for the bartender and Jorge and his friend Lonergan all sitting at the counter together.
   The three of them looked up from their drinks when the door opened. The bartender didn't seem to care all that much, Lonergan looked somewhat surprised to see an actual woman here, and Jorge muttered a low, "Fuck..." under his breath.
   "Jorge," Sharon said as she walked closer to the counter.
   A moment for him to respond. "Sharon."
   She crossed her arms and leaned over onto the counter. Took a second to glance around. "Seems lively in here."
   "Had a murder earlier today," said the bartender in a flat tone. "That, and some kind of explosion near the Church of Ansgar's Eternal Glory. Bad for business. Anyhow, you want a drink, lass?"
   Sharon shrugged. "Sure."
   "What'll ya have?" The bartender asked as he got up from his seat and walked around to the other side of the counter.
   Sharon nodded toward Jorge. "Whatever swill he's drinking. He's gonna be paying for it."
   Lonergan chuckled. No mirth in the sound. "You really need to find better friends, Jorge."
   Sharon looked at Jorge. Tilted her head to the side to get a better look at his face. His mask was down around his neck, and she could clearly see that something was bothering him.
   Regardless, she said, "I need you to do something for me, Jorge."
   His eyes flicked over in her direction. "Yeah...?"
   "I need you to go get Jessos for me. It's important."
   Lonergan glanced at Jorge. Jorge glanced back at Lonergan.
   The bartender set a mug of ale down in front of Sharon.
   A long moment.
   Then Jorge said in a low, defeated voice, "Jessos is dead, love..."

Otto hopped down after Fallah, his gun was still out and pointed. But when she yelled what she did, Otto said in a voice that could be described as a voice from hell. "You had your chance..."

Within the blink of an eye, Otto moved for the women and slammed the butt of his weapon into her face.

It was enough force to render her unconscious, he would deal with her later...

Meanwhile he stepped over her body, putting his pistol away as he moved to the iron door. Otto pressed his ear against the iron door. He highly doubted the door would open for him, but he had to get through.

He took a step back, a moment to breath, before he closed his eyes.

Darkness, it was the only thing he could see. Moments later, it was the thing he had became. As the darkness spread into the room that supposedly occupied a father and son...

   The small squad of five guards rushed into the apothecary shop through the open front door. One pointed his matchlock rifle at Lenius and commanded, "Stay where you are and don't move!"

   Fallah collapsed to the floor in front of the iron door. Out cold.

   Magical energy snapped out of existence inside of Strathus' lair. The sorcerer had heeded Fallah's warning without hesitation. He had been expecting the Reajh guard to swarm upon his lair today—Sharon and her cohorts being a stroke of luck—and thus had already prepared his portal spell. A slight concern, that the guard would have had an available Mordecai with them to nullify the spell, but there were other contingencies for that.
   But no Mordecai. The portal spell worked, and Strathus had hurried through it with Michael in tow.
   The portal closed down. Energy dispersing.
   A large block of ice remained in the lair. Hollow with the odd and vague shape of a man on the inside, the front end of it shattered open. Michael's former prison.
   The magical lights at the altar started to fade.


   Sharon's right cheek twitched. The skin quivering violently just below the eye. Adrenaline started to build in her body. Her muscles tensed. Her burrows furrowed and her teeth clenched.
   She thought of the carriage. The scene inside. Emogene.
   The little girl.
   Sharon slammed her arms and hands down on the counter. Swept them across the wood in a fury, knocking down all three mugs of ale. The mugs clattered to the floor and spilled ale.
   "FUCK!" Sharon yelled until she ran out of breath and stumbled away from the counter.
   Lonergan, being the closest to her, hopped off of his stool and backed away from her. Standing such that Jorge was between him and her.
   Jorge stayed seated in his stool. Just stared, a bit of fright in him. He'd never seen Sharon like this.
   The bartender stood still. Apprehensive. Wondering if there'd be yet another incident today.
   Sharon pinched her eyes shut. Twisted her head down and to the left. Her voice still trembling with anger. "What happened?"
   "Jessos was murdered," Jorge said. "I saw it. Some...weird boy with horns and long black hair. Mage or somethin'. Fuckin' broke the curse thing on her chest, and that magic just..." He shook his head. "I buried her clothes outside the city. I seem to be doin' a lot of that lately. Buryin' good people."
   Sharon rubbed her forehead with a hand. Ran her fingers down the bridge of her nose and squeezed hard.
   Nothing. Her ambush on Michael's carriage was for nothing. Volkhard and Otto and Merissa were right. She shouldn't have done it.
   But she couldn't give up. Couldn't allow herself to be deterred. Sharon was at a major loss without Jessos, but there had to be another way. A slower way, a way undoubtedly fraught with peril and naive mistakes, but a way. Sharon just needed to bide her time, come up with a revised plan. Go on more jobs, watch and observe. Look for weaknesses and opportunities in Mr. Winters' operations to exploit. It was all Sharon knew, her small piece in Mr. Winters' big slice of the criminal underworld, and so, despite how dangerous it would be, she now had no choice but to start here.
   "Jorge. Listen to me," she said as she stepped forward to the counter again and placed her hands down on it. "You're going to help me out with something. You owe me."
   "For what?"
   "For telling Siro about my job, you fucking asshole! You think I forgot? I trusted you to watch her for a few hours, a few hours, and you go and do exactly what I told you not to do? You're a real piece of work, Jorge, you know that? So you're damn right you fucking owe me for that."
   "Sorry, love." He wasn't in much of a mood to argue. Not after seeing one of his best friends murdered earlier in the day. "Alright, whaddoya need?"
   "We're going to do something dangerous."
   The bartender and Lonergan glanced at each other.
   "And what's that?" Jorge asked.
   Sharon narrowed her eyes. "We're going to kill someone we're not supposed to."

From the shadows leaped a man, in one hand he held a knife while the other hand was reaching out, as if to grab the light at the alter.

Otto had no idea how late he was, some people were without a mother tonight, and it had been partly his fault...dammit if he didn't at least try to reach him...

   The magical light at the altar faded to darkness without the sorcerer's presence to maintain it. As did the dark blue runes on the wall.
   Only silence. And the peculiar smell of Ignis-Crystal mixture in the walls.


   The passenger carriage stopped. The door opened. Ghost jumped inside and shut the door, and the carriage started back down the streets of Reajh. Heading toward the gates and eventually toward Uthlyn.
   Laython, with Spectre sitting beside him, looked to Ghost and asked, "What's the word?"
   "Nothing concrete, sir," she said. "There was a large crowd outside the Church at the time. A wedding, or something. No one agreed on anything. One even said a dragon did it."
   "How close could you get to the site?"
   "Not very, without being compromised. Military and guards were crawling all over it, sir. A couple members of an elite cavalry unit died in the attack, so it got them riled up."
   "Do you know if Strathus' son is alive or dead?"
   "He hasn't been seen by a trustworthy source since the attack. Only that is certain."
   Laython considered his options.
   "Perhaps a more...direct approach is required," he said.
   "Should I start looking for a professional to hire, sir?" Ghost asked.
   "That won't be necessary as of yet." Laython smirked. "Charles can keep an eye on her for now."
   The carriage rode on.

Otto slid across the ground on his belly, slamming his hand on the floor in fustration.

How the hell did he let this happen? How was he this careless.

Otto could only think as he clutched his head, a really aggravated look on his face. But he couldn't stay therefore ever, he pushed himself up, looking around for anything that might have given him a clue.

His first instinct made him move for the table, flipping through the books rapidly as his eyes scanned the pages...until he found one that might have been use to him. After stowing it into his coat, he grabbed a knife out of his pockets, and moved to the wall. Gently, he chipped away an outer layer around the room, before gingerly taking said rune and too storing it into his overcoat pocket.

It was then he heard a slam against the iron doors. Otto glanced back at the door, before he descended into darkness...
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Didn't take him long to track down Melissa to her home through some quick inquiries, took him even less time to enter...

   Charles was in the kitchen of the house, only just arriving home from some adminstrative work at Earnhardt's estate. He could have sworn that with Mr. Deegan—Mr. Winters' biggest rival—dead, that things would eventually cool down a bit. That'd he get some time to spend with his family. Maybe even take Merissa and Niko to Uthlyn, or to one of the coastal towns out east on the Hivan Ocean. Not so. It seemed Deegan's death only emboldened Mr. Winters to expand more, and the jobs and tasks were coming down from top with no end in sight.
   Charles had a green apple in his hand, a few bites into it. Snacking before dinner.
   Then he saw him. The masked man. In his house.
   Charles dropped the apple and pulled out his main pistol and aimed it square at the man.
   Shouted, "Who the hell are you?"

   Merissa was in Niko's room with both him and Siro. Showing them a few sleight of hand card tricks she'd learned from her days as a thief. Enjoying their amazement.
   Then she heard Charles shouting from out in the kitchen.
   "Stay here," she said to the children. She stood up from Niko's bed and rushed to the door and down the hallway toward the kitchen and the living room.
   Naturally, Niko and Siro couldn't help but to poke their heads out. Peeking around the door frame and watching Merissa and wondering what was going on.

The man was only able to get that much out before the man grabbed the extended hand of Charles and pulled him forward, pistol sliding past the masked man before he brought his fist up to Charles face, aiming to knock him unconscious.

As Charles fell to the floor the masked man grabbed his pistol as he fell. The man then raised it up to Melissa as she rounded the corner.

   The masked man was fast. A blur. A tug on Charles's arm, and then a fist to his face. Stars exploded before his eyes as he toppled backwards, his arm knocking over the bowl of apples on the counter on the way down.
   Charles landed hard on his back, the wind knocked out of him. A bit of blood on his bottom lip. He'd taken hits before, but he was also a younger man then. He just couldn't bounce back like he used to, especially since he had transitioned from using swords and fists to using pistols. He stayed down, far too dazed to get up for the moment. He patted his left leg with his left hand, searching for his reserve pistol. For all the good it would do if he couldn't aim straight.
   But now he thought only of Merissa. Of Niko. So he had to try.

   Merissa froze as soon as she stepped out from the hallway and saw the mess in the kitchen. Charles writhing slowly on the floor. Otto aiming a pistol right at her.
   No time to think. No time to ask why Otto was doing this. Who he really was or who he really worked for.
   "Niko! Siro! RUN!"

   A lightning bolt of fear through Siro's body as she heard Nana yell. She'd heard that tone before. The same one whenever Sharon yelled after getting caught stealing food from a shopkeeper, and the two of them had to run as fast as they could from him and any nearby guards.
   She heard it in her nightmares. As she was being chased by something she couldn't escape. Until she woke up with a start.
   Both Niko and Siro backed away from the door and Niko slammed it shut, doing exactly as his mother had taught him. He grabbed the wooden chair next to his bed and threw it as hard as he could into the window of his room, shattering it completely.
   "Come on!" he said to Siro as he ran up next to the now opened window. "I'll help you out! Careful, careful!"
   Siro ran over to him and Niko, tall and strong for his age, picked her up off of her feet and set her down outside. Then Niko himself climbed out, grabbed Siro by the hand, and started running across the grassy commons behind his home with her.
   A few of the neighbors gave them some alarmed looks from their own homes.

Otto stepped forward pistol aimed at Melissa's head, walking forward menacingly until the barrel was an inch away from her head.

"I'm not here for you...not for this. But your friend Sharon." In his low and gravely voice, he said. "Tell her this: Once I've gotten Michael, I'm coming for her head."

With that, Otto dropped the pistol and his hand fell to his side. He the. Began to backtrack, hands swaying a bit as he then threw something onto the ground with his fisted hand, and smoke began to rise.

A good deal of smoke filled the room, but minutes later the smoke subsided...but the man was no where to be seen.

   Merissa closed her eyes as Otto stalked toward her. Her nose flaring with each terrified breath. This was it. The end of a thief's luck. The conclusion to the life she had chosen for herself.
   She swallowed. Said, "Don't hurt the children."
   But then Otto spoke. A threatening tone, but directed elsewhere. At Sharon.
   The pistol clattered to the floor. Otto backed away, and he covered his escape with a smoke bomb.
   And Merissa immediately rushed over to and dropped down next to Charles. Her hands on his chest and head as she leaned in to see his face through the haze of the smoke.
   "Charles! Are you okay?"
   "I'll be fine." He said, wincing a bit as he sat up. He pressed his palm to his lips. Pulled it back. Looked at the blood and wiped it on his pants. "Who was that? What the hell happened today?"
   "It's..." She hesitated. "It's nothing. We just need to be more careful. Look out for Siro. And Sharon. Now more than ever."
   Charles narrowed his eyes in confusion. Tried waving some of the smoke away from his face. "What? Merissa, I don't—"
   "I need to go get them. Niko and Siro. Stay safe, okay?" She kissed him before he had a chance to respond, then disappeared into the smoke and out through the back door of the house.

   Charles stood as the smoke cleared. Wondered just what the fuck was going on. There'd been several incidents today. Word of a number of a minor and major happenings throughout Reajh and Uthlyn.
   Maybe it was a mistake to let Sharon have the day off; ever since the infiltration job into the Pit, she'd grown more and more reckless. She hadn't acted like that at all in the first few months under Charles' strict supervision and guidance.
   Just what kind of trouble did Sharon get herself into?