The Echo of the Enemy

[Storm Veritas]

(closed)

Coronian mornings were growing on him. The sun rose slowly in front of a pink sky, painting the clouds that beautiful silver-gray-and-purple that laid across the heavens above like tattered ribbons, frozen in the breeze. The crisp morning air was a welcome reprieve from the hot days which always followed, and any semblance of shiver he had to suffer due to cold was easily offset by the small campfire that roared before him. Attila brayed contently only ten feet away as he chewed on the tall grass behind the stick/rope/leather pack tent that the aging wizard had simply constructed.

“If everything wasn’t so goddamned wet, I could get used to this. Well, I suppose we could use some coffee out here…

“And ass! I could definitely use some ass out here. And based on how ornery you’re getting, I suspect you could use a filly of your own.”

The horse did not respond, despite Storm’s insistence that his joke had earned a good hoof-stomp from the dumb mountain of equine muscle. Actively avoiding the dew-covered grass, Storm periodically rotated the small rodent he had blasted that morning on the small spit he had suspended above the campfire. A nice thin char had established around the sinew while the skin and digestive tract burned harmlessly below. It had begun to waft a pleasant scent from the spices he had pressed into the stripped meat; breakfast was nearly ready.

“Fine, you stubborn bastard. Maybe I’m not funny, but lest you forget, without me you’d be at best dragon food… and at worst, glue.”

The gleaming brown marbles shined back from Attila to his master as Storm spoke, an intelligence in the great horse’s eyes as he appeared to process the conversation. Perhaps the old magician was losing his mind on his own, but the deliberate silence from the stallion seemed to imply a sort of kinship.

A few minutes later, a single black bead appeared upon the horizon from the east, tiny clouds of dust appearing before the sound of hooves approached. Storm quickly rose to see more clearly, standing from a fallen trunk which had made a perfectly comfortable breakfast chair. As he picked a few more pieces of long, gamey meat from the skeletal remains of his prey, his deep set eyes squinted into tiny gray shards to more closely see the unexpected visitor.

Short mare, rider’s clothes. Too thin to be a warrior… no weapons visible. He’s moving fast, but not racing. Messenger.

He waited patiently as he massaged the mane of Attila, who had turned quickly to face the approaching rider. A tall, gaunt man of about fifty slowed down as he approached, empty hands visible in a non-threatening gesture. As he neared, wide hemispheres of sweat appeared as relic traces about the rider’s neck, chest, and armpits. He had been riding in these clothes for a while.

“Morning! Sorry for the interruption, but I believe that you’re the man I’ve been sent to deliver this letter to. Storm Veritas, yes? Apparently your last supply run up near Radasanth got you spotted by someone with deep pockets; thank the Gods for your big, beautiful horse that made you a little easier to track.”

Storm didn’t move with even a modicum of fear, but instead traced his left hand on the long, thin dagger behind his back. His middle finger danced a delicate circle around the rounded end of the weapon, however his signature was all the traveler had requested. Only moments later, the blade was out – this time to break the wax seal of an official letter which arrived in a suspiciously pristine envelope. Quickly reading the contents with avarice, his heart pounding. His eyes devoured the last of the letter as it fell from his shaking fingertips.

Holy shit…

[Taische]

"What about this one?" Taische pointed to a mushroom growing in the moss. It was a little brown thing with a smooth, cup-like top and ridges growing along the bottom, and to the little girl's eyes, it looked like any other common, edible mushroom. Though dawn had barely broken, she and her mother were awake and moving, working on both eating apples and some necessary education along their roadless route.

"Poisonous." Karuka tossed the core of her apple to the base of a nearby tree. It would be a treat for a swarm of ants or anything else that came by it.

"What about this one over here that looks like it's in a shroud?"

"That 'un y' can eat, so long as y' aren't drinkin' anything stronger than water fer a few days. They don't taste very good, either."

"Oh! What about acorns?"

Karuka laughed, looking up into the great oaken branches above their heads, where their phoenix was chasing a family of chattering squirrels. "It's not th' right season fer acorns, wee bit. But where I come from, we crack 'em out of their shell, grind 'em down, an' soak 'em fer a day. Then we let 'em dry out an' cook with 'em. I'll teach y', if we're still here come th' fall."

"Where will we go if we aren't? Back to Dheathain? Back home?" Big blue eyes looked up from a dark little face, asking the same question they'd asked every day for a hundred days. When could they get out of chilly Corone and go back to the sweltering familiarity of Jalaan?

"Oh, wee bit." Karuka's golden hand reached into Taische's thick black hair, brushing it back. "We go where we need t' go, an' that's somethin' y'll learn t' do in time. Maybe someday that path'll lead us home. Maybe it won't. Th' future is rarely clear."

Taische pouted, crunching on the last few bites of her apple while stomping through the thick, loamy leaf litter. They'd spent the last two months walking through the wilderness in Corone. Her mom had fought some bandits a couple of times, they'd helped a town overcome a pestilence, and they'd even visited some of her mom's old friends. Sometimes those friends had kids about her age to play with, but they were never in one place more than a couple of days.

The child liked being outside. She liked having the clean air and the starry sky and living, growing earth beneath her feet and between her bare toes. That felt right. But Corone itself felt stale and dried up, like a piece of bread that had been left out a day too long. It didn't excite or interest her, really, though she could see that her mother took to it like it was home.

Maybe Corone feels more like where she grew up. But I'd rather be at home, or at least in Dheathain.

The two broke out of the dense forest and into a large, grassy meadow just after the dew had evaporated from the ground. Taische breathed deep, soaking in the scents of sun and wildflowers. It was a welcome break from the heavy, musty smell of the deep forest, where leaves obscured most light and beetles and fungus broke down dead things so that they could breathe new life into the trees.

Taodoine erupted from the canopy, flying high and happy now that he could taste the open sky, then he folded his wings and plummeted down, scaring a flock of quail into flight. He wasn't hungry and Karuka and Taische wouldn't stop to eat until evening, but it was never too early to play with his food.

Taische's eyes tracked the startled flock, and she ran forward to watch them better. While her mother was a diviner - one who took the runes and saw what they told her - she was an auger - one who saw glimpses in the future in signs the world gave her. The birds twisted and turned in their numbers, fleeing the phoenix who could have easily brought down five of them in a swoop, before flying north when the predator bored of the game.

"We need to head south!" Taische looked earnestly at her mother, sharp-featured face a little pale and drawn. "We need to! Or someone's going to die very badly."

Karuka looked at her daughter, then at the sky. She tucked a lock of deep red hair behind her ear, then pulled a couple of little clay tablets from a pouch at her waist and nodded. "Then we're off south. C'mon, Taodoine."

[Storm Veritas]

He scrambled to grab the letter before the morning dew could ruin its message, before the wind could take the incredible away from him, on a wing of disbelief and doubt. No, he had to see the words again, let them wash over him, and confirm that his eyes hadn’t lied.

The Office of Chancellor Tyllan
32 Brookings Rd
Radasanth Upon Corone

Second Day of BloodMoon, CP847

Mr. Veritas,

It is with some considerable hesitation that I write you, however my advisors have informed me that my intentions and information are not ill-founded. Although the city of Radasanth still has within its statute of limitations several warrants for your arrest, as a pragmatist I understand that the considerable time and your recent improved behavior in the eyes of the state warrant some form of reconciliation.

Reconciliation begins with trust, which is extended greatly in this offer. Should you use this notice to bring any subterfuge to my office, your warrants will be immediately called forward. I recognize that you are, in fact, a scoundrel, however feel that are mutual interests should lead to my problem solved and your reconciliation in the eyes of the state.

I would propose terms for a reconciliation of your warrants and writs. Our town has very recently been attacked by a subtle threat, one which must be handled with a certain delicacy and lack of any official presence.

The expansion efforts of the Radasanthian infrastructure requires the claiming of adjacent lands. Schools are needed, and new roads must be built to accommodate our bustling economy and growing populace. Unfortunately, not all land owners whom claim lands surrounding the city have accepted reasonable terms to relocate and allow for the public growth.

The single Lord who owns the most critical lands is your old friend, Letho Ravenheart. Letho, “The Red Marshall”, a hero in the eyes of many in Radasanth, has refused any terms to relocate his considerable lands away from the western perimeter of the city’s reach. As a result, he has hamstrung growth for the greater good.

Letho Ravenheart is a dangerous man, one whom the city cannot be seen to visibly pressure. He is also a man without kin. Your task is simple; find a way to relocate Letho to clear the first ten acres from the western perimeter of the reach of Radasanth. The means of his relocation, as well as the methodology, are up to your discretion. Should you successfully relocate Mr. Ravenheart, you shall be compensated with 500 crowns in addition to a reconciliation of outstanding warrants.

This offer expires 26 days from writing, at the end of the Blood Moon.

Respectfully,
Sir Edgar Tyllan

Letho F*cking Ravenheart… you’ve got to be shitting me.

Storm grinned insidiously at the very thought, remembering an endless set of adventures and wars with the gallant warrior. Letho had taken far too much from him, leaving him a villain in the eyes of many. He had always been so pious, so holy, so pure… it was exhausting. The prospect of using this one opportunity to end the legend would taste as sweet as any twice-distilled mead. It was far too good to be true.

Although it was typically too early to smoke, this occasion warranted some celebration. Producing his small red clay pipe, Storm pressed a thumb’s weight of dried tobacco into the small space. He squatted to shield the morning wind as he rubbed his thumb and index finger, effortlessly sparking the bowl. Rolling the paper into a thin scroll, he dipped the edge into the fast-fired orange chamber, watching the corner catch.

Attila brayed nearby as the document blazed in the wind. Thoughts of a trap filled the wizard’s mind as he contemplated the offer. He was skeptic, but the proposal of locating and eliminating the sworn enemy was simply too good to pass up. As the tiny fragments of red-orange ash floated harmlessly towards the city of Radasanth, Storm immediately began disassembling his simple tent. Looking up at his mighty horse, the magician smiled as he spoke through clenched teeth, popping smoke around the sides of his teeth.

“It’s time to get to work, big fella.”

[Karuka]

Karuka strode through the woods alongside Taische's anxious scurry. Her daughter had been more and more concerned with the wellbeing of others over the last few weeks, and while it made the older O'Sheean immensely proud, she didn't quite understand it. What had changed in her little girl? Taische hadn't yet gone through the selfish preteen years; had something happened during one of the interludes when her mother left her so she could deal with dangers far beyond the child's reach?

If she keeps on like she does, I might not have a choice but t' settle us down fer another couple of years or t' start takin' her along. Or... Well, it's high time she really learned th' healin' arts an' how t' handle beasts. Th' child'll be ten soon enough; I've only a few short years left with her an' ay so much t' teach her.

Where had the years gone? Hadn't it only been a heartbeat ago that she was crouched in a birthing tub, trying to breathe between contractions and push at the midwives' urging? When had that tiny, sweet baby had the time to grow into a curious toddler? When had that toddler found a moment to grow into this beautiful, vivacious girl?

Next time I blink, she'll be handin' me my granddaughter.

"Slow down, wee bit. Rushin' won't solve this problem y' see if y' get yerself hell-bent on goin' th' direct way." Karuka didn't mind traveling through dense brush, like the thorny brambles impeding their path through the dense woods, but it would take them at least a day extra to go through, and not nearly so long to edge their way around.

"But... then how?" Frustrated blue eyes looked up into the redhead's face, and in return a gentle hand stroked back the thick black hair.

"Here." Karuka pulled a lodestone pendant from around her neck and gave it to her daughter. "Y'know what this is, right?"

Taische frowned. "The pendulum you got from your mother."

"Ay. As she got it from her mother, who got it from hers, who got it from hers. Someday it'll belong t' you, an' then t' your daughter, an' then t' hers, each in their turn. We've used it t' guide our choices an' our steps fer long generations, an' it's time y' started learnin' how t' use it. Stand. Close yer eyes. Breathe. An' then ask, with all y' have in ya, 'where do I need t' go?'"

The child looked skeptical, but did as she was told. She'd rarely seen her mother use the pendulum; Karuka seemed sure which way her dharma was directing her more often than not. After more than a minute of standing still and just asking, the pendant started swinging of its own accord, east to west, east to west.

Taische snapped her eyes open and looked down at the first swing, then watched it for a while. "But... does it mean east or west? And why not south?"

"Look fer which way it swings harder. An' keep askin' every now an' again. It'll lead y' right."

Taische watched the necklace swing a few more times, then started walking west. She didn't understand, but her mom knew what she was doing.

[Storm Veritas]

Attila had grown up a bit, or so it appeared. The mighty steed had traveled with him across the world with him, and had moved a bit from the world’s largest mule into something less stubborn. He was still temperamental, and would be prone to fits of anger, but with Storm had grown a real kinship. The mountain of jet black muscle marched towards Radasanth without any sort of fight this morning, something which the wizard found to be almost alarming. People would describe the horse as great, beautiful, powerful and fast, however obedient was a term that was entirely foreign, and set his master’s nerves on edge.

“You must remember Radasanth, or just needed to walk. Stay rested, big fella; stay strong. If we see that ornery sonofabitch, I’ll need every shred of your speed.”

It really hadn’t dawned on him what exactly Storm planned to do should he encounter Letho Ravenheart. The almost comically noble hero had bested him more than once, and while Storm Veritas had grown into a force of his own accord, taking down Letho had proven to be akin to tackling a tree. Still, there were too many nights broken from the terrible memories. Too much potential had been robbed by Ravenheart. There was a blood tithe to pay.

And besides, any detour through Radasanth gets me an excuse to visit their bars and brothels. Not that much excuse is needed.

He fantasized a bit as he rode the horse, thinking back to times long passed. Adventures, battles, even wars were fought against Letho. In truth, a large part of Storm’s own strength was drawn from forcing himself to grow stronger in an attempt to kill the mighty Marshall. Different scenarios played out in his head as his horse steadily walked the worn path between the tall grasses. The trees had become a bit more dense now; the forests surrounded the town in a bit of a protective ring. It made for premium ambush territory, for any who traveled through the area high on saddlebags full of goodies, or simply let the drink catch up to them before stopping to set camp.

“So we need to find him, track him, mark him, then what? I suppose the big idiot would still rather make it a dick-measuring contest and duel at high noon, but that’s no damned use. Could we sneak up on him? How do we get the information we’d need to be effective here? He’s probably alone out at his farm like a goddamned hermit; intel on him is probably as detailed as tracking a f*cking ant…”

Attila didn’t respond to the strategic discourse, but kept marching ahead. He did stop following Storm’s idea surrounding the concept of ambushing Letho to move his bowels in a thick pile that eliminated the last vestiges of morning odors; those of honey-dew and local pollen-rich daisies.

“Point taken. Let’s see what we can learn in town; we’re not far now.”

Radasanth appeared on the horizon, popping up in the afternoon sun like a great stony titan. The largest buildings – either governmental or church based – appeared first, their tall steeples of stone and shale appearing as bleached-white towers with shiny, glowing auburn caps. It was beautiful from afar; one would never know the stench of hedonism that lived within the pits of such an impressive backdrop.

[Karuka]

A day of walking took the O'Sheeans to a broad, empty road. Taische still held the pendulum, and a wide grin split her face when it pointed definitively down the road. The travel would be much easier without having to ford streams or go around impassably thick brush. Her bright eyes skimmed her surroundings, taking in the bright purples and oranges of the local wildflowers, then the direction that the road led.

Her face fell; she had few good memories in that direction. "...Radasanth? Oh..."

Karuka chuckled, pulling a confused twig insect from her daughter's thick black hair and releasing it onto a branch. "Dharma won't always take y' where y' think y' want t' go, wee bit. But d' y' want t' turn back? Y' saw th' signs, this'll be yer call." The redhead watched her daughter closely; would this newfound sense of responsibility take her somewhere she actively didn't want to go? Or would she turn away despite knowing that someone would die if she didn't? Her runes had told her what the birds hadn't told her child; she knew who it was who might be walking to his doom.

He damn well d'serves it, too.

Taische frowned in the direction of the still unseen city. What would her mother want her to do? Obviously, she'd want to save the life. Her mother was a hero. What did she want to do? She didn't want to go to Radasanth. Radasanth was big and crowded, dirty and smelly, and it was where Uncle Storm was from, and he'd been more mean than kind.

What's the right thing to do, though?

Her eyes slid away from the bend in the road and down to the lodestone pendant that dangled from her hand. It pointed resolutely toward the city. Which way did she need to go? The exact way she didn't want to.

With her course set, Taische's little brown hand slid the divining tool back to her mother. She didn't need it anymore. Her little bare feet hesitated for one more moment, still reluctant to go back, but then her toes dug into the dirt and she started marching.

Karuka smiled proudly at the back of her daughter's head, completely unseen. While her very powerful, very impulsive child had a long way to go, and while she had a lot to worry about when it came to Taische's rearing, she was growing up in the right direction. At just nine, she'd chosen to save the life of some unknown person, despite dearly wanting to do something else.

She'll be just fine, my wee bit.

[Storm Veritas]

Radasanth seemed to be a living animal to Storm Veritas. It was familiar, but never precisely the same. Perhaps it was the flow of seasons, which morphed the energy of the people in the streets. The pleasant spring had yielded to the unforgiving summer, and with it came a certain omnipresent lethargy Heat was a funny thing; it seemed the Radasanthians yearned so desperately for it in the harsh cold of winter, yet loathed it when it finally arrived at their doorsteps. Heat slowed you, made the hangover linger longer, and made that acrid urine smell from the alleys around the city’s pubs sting with more bite.

The big horse had moved slowly, and they had camped out in the grasses outside of town for one final night before entering the city. He roped Attila to a stand-pole in the shade near the town gates, as the great beast happily drove his face into the mighty trough of drinking water with a satisfied bray. Summer mornings weren’t as bad for most. The morning brought less scrutiny, as people moved from home to work with a quiet focus, scanning through newspapers as though in a world of their own.

Damned people with their head in the papers, wandering through the world like the undead. The whole world passes them by while they read stupid gossip about their neighbors and ignore the real people around them. Shit, don’t they know the –real- news just walked through the town gates?

It had been months since Storm had rampaged through the streets of Radasanth, assassinating multiple politicians and engaging in wild battle in the streets. It made for rampant news for several weeks, but then a couple of royals had gotten in a fight and the papers seemed to completely forget about the wizard who flipped the city on it’s head. For good measure, he’d let his stubble run thicker, and wore more pedestrian gear than the dress-nines he’d normally embrace. The thin cotton shirt was much appreciated in the heat.

Flipping a silver crown to a boy at the paper stand, the magician stood and scanned the local paper with a flippant disgust. The headline featured some petty quarrel between some pompous bard and his attention-drowned girlfriend. It was trash.

“Redundancies, clichés, and mixed metaphors. I’d swear, the local pens are manned by people that barely qualify for the top ninety-fifth percentile. Barely literate, it’d be funny if it weren’t so sad.”

The merchant responded to him with a wide eyed nod, as his mind was likely still stuck back upon “redundancy”. Storm’s first exchange had not been with Corone’s most cunning linguist, and he realized he’d have to keep moving. One couldn’t draw blood from a stone, he reasoned, and getting salient information from this dunderhead was a wasted effort.

Idiot. You’d think the paper merchant would be literate. Where the hell am I going to get the information I need? Bars aren’t open, and the streets are littered with the brainless.

Scanning through the paper, the electromancer sought shelter in the shade, choosing to read updates in the Radasanthian Register and scour for mention of Letho Ravenheart, the Marshall, or better yet Storm himself. If the paper could speak, Veritas wondered if it would sound more like the lonesome howl of a wolf or the simple drone of crickets. Either way, there was nothing here for him.

Absolute trash. Probably would have been more useful before my morning dump; at least the paper feels softer than those leaves.

The tall villain cast the newspaper roughly into the trash outside of City Hall, a satisfying thunk sound bouncing back to him. He thought for a moment as he gazed up at the massive granite structure, cut without cost in mind from giant blocks and marble facades. Going into the town hall months after a killing spree should have been absolute insanity, however Storm relied on the fickle memory of jaded citizens and the collective stupidity of Coronians.

These imbeciles won’t even look up from their papers, how could they ever spot me?

As he entered the town hall to seek land registry maps, the wizard considered he had placed an awfully large wager on stupidity.

[Karuka]

Taische's bare brown feet tapped the rutty wagon road in a quick staccato, forcing her mother to lengthen her stride to keep up. Karuka seemed focused to her nine-year-old eyes, but there was no urgency in her posture. Was that because she knew it would be all right, or was that because the redhead was following the little girl's lead? Or was it because...?

"Mom?" Taische shoved a mass of unruly black hair out of her face and peered up with eyes that matched the summer sky. "Radasanth is a really big city, right? The biggest in all Corone?"

"Aye, it is." Karuka reached out to brush a low-hanging branch aside, earning a cranky hiss from the phoenix who had perched there. She was slightly taller than the average Coronian man, and so frequently found obstacles at head height.

"And people die there every day, right? Sometimes because they're great-great-great-great-great grandparents and have lived a good life and they just die because they're very old, and sometimes because of accidents, and sometimes because they're sick, right? But also, sometimes they die in terrible ways. And that happens every day?"

Karuka paused. She'd never bothered to hide the sometimes brutal truth of mortality with her daughter; she didn't want reality to come as a sudden shock. But something about Taische's ability to take what she knew, apply it to a broad range of people, and then vocalize it unsettled her. Why should dark truths come from such innocent lips? And how much did Taische really understand about what she was saying, and how much of it was just an abstract concept.

"Aye, wee bit. People die in Radasanth every day. Sometimes in awful ways."

"Then..." Taische frowned deeply, rubbing her cheek. "How will I know who we're looking for? And why did I see the death of this one person, and not all the others? Why not all the others, all over the world? Don't we care about all of them?"

Karuka's golden hand clamped down on the little girl's shoulder, stopping her and turning her. She crouched down, putting herself at her child's eye level so that she could be sure her words were getting through. These were important questions, and the answers she gave - and the way that Taische understood those answers - were absolutely critical.

"We care about them, of course we do. Anywhere th' strong or powerful are oppressin' those who can't fight back, anywhere an innocent is gettin' hurt or harmed, we care. But Taische, we're only two people. I'm very strong an' very powerful, I've a lot of experience fightin' fer and helpin' people, but I can only be in one place at a time. In yer time, you will grow so much in power an' wisdom, beyond my ability t' see or yer ability t' imagine right now. But even you can't be in more'n one place at a time. No matter how much we care, we can't do everything. We jus' have t' do what's in our power t' do."

Taische's shoulders drooped a little; what use was everything she was learning if she couldn't do very much? Karuka frowned slightly and pulled her daughter into a hug.

"Th' lives y' save, th' people y' help, y' change th' world fer them, wee bit. Y' save th' world fer them. Sometimes y' can save many jus' by bein' there, lookin' evil in th' face, and askin' it if it really wants t' tangle with y'. Sometimes y' can fight with all th' strength in yer body fer one life, an' y' lose 'em anyway. Y' keep goin' b'cause y' never know if y' don't try. Y' keep goin' b'cause it's th' right thing t' do. An' th' victories are worth th' defeats, wee bit. They're worth it."

The little girl leaned into her mother's shoulder, gripping tightly around her neck. "And why did I see this one?"

Karuka shook her head. "Y' don't always find out, Taische. Sometimes y' see a life t' save b'cause their time hasn't come. Sometimes y' see somethin' that can't be avoided. Sometimes y' see someone who'll become important t' you. I'll ask y' again, wee bit... what d' y' want t' do here? This was yer vision, this is yer call."

The little girl stood silent for a few moments, feeling the weight of her choice despite the shelter of her mother's arms. "...let's keep going."

The redhead kissed her daughter's forehead and stood, taking the little hand in hers as they resumed their journey.

[Taische]

The next dawn saw them in the big city, where the trickle of people had yet to become a thronging crowd. Still, Taische stuck close to her mother's side; her last memories of Radasanth were far from pleasant. Both O'Sheeans had donned their boots just prior to stepping through the gates; the weight of industry and civilization drowned out the song of the earth. The leather dampened that sense and helped them blend in - though how well a pair of brown-skinned, blue-eyed women traveling alone could blend in when one was abnormally tall, had dark red hair, carried weapons, wore vlince, and traveled with a bird as orange as fire was debatable.

On her own, the child might have appeared slightly more normal, despite being dark in a land of fairly pale people. All she seemed to have was a walking stick and a satchel; the green cotton dress that came to her knees looked little different from any other girl's clothing.

Despite the foreigners' unusual appearance, citizens paid little attention to Karuka and Taische. These men and women had jobs to get to and families to support, and so many would-be adventurers wandered through Corone's largest port that one or two more weren't really worth their notice if they weren't actively making trouble.

The little girl munched on a hot fruit bun while they wove their way to the heart of Radasanth. She wasn't sure what she was looking for, or who, or where, or when, so she assumed she just had to go the direction that felt right and that things would work themselves out. Sometimes a clairvoyant just had to trust they'd end up going the right way.

She hoped she was going the right way. Usually, the interior of a city was well-policed, and people didn't dare be bad when they could be caught and punished. With every step, Taische's head told her that they couldn't possibly be going the right way. A different sense entirely kept her walking.

Finally, as dawn's dusky pink was warming into morning's gold, she caught sight of a tall, thin man with a rough growth of stubble. Taische froze at the sight of him, then quickly whipped around and scurried out of his view. She'd only seen him so disheveled once, but she knew who it was immediately. Her "uncle," Storm Veritas. And she was pretty sure he hated her. At the very least, he'd been incredibly vicious the last time she'd seen him.

She peeked around to see that her mother and their pet bird had not followed her and were still standing in the mouth of the little alley they were walking through. Both of them had turned to look at her, though. Beyond them, Storm was absorbed in a newspaper, a contemptuous scowl plastered upon his face. He hadn't seen any of them.

"...it's him, isn't it?" The question came, though the child didn't need to ask. "He's either going to kill someone really badly, or he's going to get killed really badly. What do we do, mom?"

"What should we do, wee bit? What's right?"

Taische looked down, scuffing her boots in the trash that had accumulated along the sides of the narrow stone pathway and pushing her hair out of her face. Her big blue eyes peered into the refuse, looking for some pattern that might make sense to her.

What was right?

[Storm Veritas]

Storm strode out of the town hall with a smile on his face, broad and aware of the power the paper in his hands held. The zoning map was a simple enough thing, printed on a large scroll of thick, durable paper which had been since waxed to improve its weatherability. If felt like a weapon in his hand, the tautly rolled parchment no less powerful than a well folded katana. The words which he had focused on were indelible in the grand scheme.

Ravenheart Estate (under lien)

They were magical words to him; verification that the lands just outside the town walls were both legitimately disputed and belonged to the man that had taken so much from him. Storm leaned against a stone pillar, closing his eyes and allowing the morning sun to wash over him as he enjoyed the moment.

That old, sanctimonious dickhead. I can’t wait to see the look on his face when he sees me ride up on him. Fat, rich, and slow; he won’t have a chance to deal with the hell I bring to his f*cking doorstep.

The magician didn’t wait long to strategize; the morning bustle would calm soon, and his face couldn’t linger long in town, regardless of his disguise or the lack of novelty a loose killer had amongst the jaded, blackened civilization which pretended to exist within the walls of Radasanth. He had waited years for the opportunity to exact revenge on Letho Ravenheart; he saw no good reason to wait another moment.

Wait too long, word will spread. For all the holier-than-thou act he put on, he was always well connected.

As Storm returned to the stable to untether Attila, he pocketed the paperwork and took a last, rich breath of the acrid air. A generally unpleasant odor of wet fur covered the morning with the dew, which was beginning to lift with the rising sun. Soon enough, the familiar aromas of horse manure and stale booze would dominate. His body ached a bit as he pulled himself up into the saddle, whereas the great beast beneath him relished in the chance to move.

“Easy boy, it’s not a long walk. Two, maybe three hours. Easy work.”

The adventurer moved slowly through the crowded streets, looking down to the curb’s edge as his great mount strode powerfully. Any time one rode in the street, you were bound to get attention; today was no exception. Worse, he felt extra eyes upon him, as someone was near him. He whipped his head around frantically, but didn’t find any onlooker amongst the crowd. Was it paranoia? Steeled by his bloodlust for the Red Marshal, Veritas pushed ahead, marching to the city gates.