Round 1: The Girl and the Guardian v Unreasonable Gentlemen

[Taische]

The lightning mage's bolt worked to devastating effect. The tree he'd targeted was going bare not just in preparation for the oncoming winter, but because it was sick. Blackish blotches marred the leaves that fell from its branches. Its smooth brown bark hid a rotted, worm-eaten core. A healthy tree could have withstood such a strike, but this one would have collapsed anyway beneath the first heavy snow. With an ear-splitting groan and a series of thunderous SNAPS and CRACKS, the afflicted maple toppled, sending a hail of sweet-smelling branches careening in all directions.

One, longer than Taische was tall and easily twice her weight, spun straight for her little frame like a javelin. Her boots skidded on smooth cobblestone while she tried to stop and duck under the oncoming projectile, but it was the wrong move, and nearly her last. Kryos, quicker and more experienced, grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her away so hard that pain exploded in her shoulder. The branch shot through the space she'd been, and a startled grunt escaped her throat as she and her companion vanished down a shadowy alley.

Immediately, the rancid stench of decay overwhelmed the little girl, making her gag while her guardian pulled her through foul puddles and past heaps of rotting refuse. Roaches and rats scattered ahead of them, though they hissed and chattered angrily at the interlopers. A wall rose ominously in front of them, separating the long warehouses from the residential part of town.

A door greeted the fugitives when they reached the wall, an iron and oak access into one of the buildings that enclosed them. Kryos grabbed the knob, twisting it with all his strength and throwing his entire body into it, but the door remained steadfast. Desperate, he looked up. The mortar between the small, neat bricks was cracked and crumbling, but not enough for either him or the child to have quick purchase on. It was too tall for her to get over, and he couldn't carry her the whole way. But their pursuers were coming quickly behind, and running back into the street would put them directly in the line of fire.

Kryos drew his sword again, instinctively nudging his ward behind him. They had no recourse but to stand and fight, and of course the child couldn't face two grown mages. He hoped his ability would be enough.

Taische panted, a little winded from the long run. They were trapped, and if she didn't get them untrapped, Kryos would die. She knew that if Uncle Storm blasted them both, she'd just get pushed into the wall. If Uncle Mal lit them both on fire, she didn't think she'd burn so easily. But she'd gotten Kryos into trouble, and that was not okay.

I wonder if this will work...

The little girl crouched and put her hands on the slimy stones, though she shuddered at the built up sludge. This wasn't okay either.

Ewwwwww. Focus! Come on!

She took a deep breath and concentrated, feeling the earth beneath her palms. With a mighty magic heave, she shoved the earth beneath the wall down a few feet. It scraped loudly, despite a harsh, insistent SHUSH! from the child. She ducked to go through, but Kryos grabbed her shoulder.

"Hold on," he commanded. "There may be worse on the other side." With that, he dropped into the hole to emerge on the other side of the wall. "It's safe," he called after a second. "Hurry up!"

Instead, Taische looked into the hole, then back to the street, where broken branches laid in the lamp light. Uncle Storm and Uncle Mal were bad men, and if she didn't go stop them, they would start killing people soon. They might have already started. Fear fought with a budding sense of responsibility in her chest, but she knew she only had one option. She couldn't let innocents die, not if she could help it. She was the daughter of Karuka O'Sheean, after all.

"I'm sorry," she called through the tunnel. "I can't. If I don't go to them, bad things will happen. Really bad things. Thank you. Bye." With that, she pulled back up on the lowered ground, pulling it back into place and starting to jog toward the alley entrance. Fire ignited on her hands, drying and purifying the unidentifiable nastiness that she'd touched moments before. Thoughtlessly, she brushed it off on the sides of her dress.

She didn't know Uncle Mal very well, but she did know Uncle Storm. There was one thing she could do, one weapon in her arsenal, one power at her disposal, that she knew she could stop him with - if he still liked her well enough to not just backhand her when she got close.

She left the alley at a run, turning sharply into the street regardless of any potential danger. "Uncle Mal! Uncle Storm!" She picked up speed, aiming herself directly at the electromancer so she could wrap her arms around him in a tight hug. She knew she looked pitiful, with a few stray twigs lodged into her hair, scrapes on her right side from squeezing through the stable fence, and bruises on her left side from an incident a day or two prior. Hopefully the whole look would just help her slow the two men down long enough for them to not kill anybody.

[Rayse Valentino]

The fuck?! was the only thing Rayse could think of the grisly scene of Storm's impromptu murder, passing by the man who was still reeling and dead before he hit the ground. Goddess-damned crazy bastard, I almost got splattered by the blood! His custom tailored vest aside, there was also the concern that Storm had simultaneously no empathy for this passerby and yet cared about Taische. What kind of relationship did the two have, anyway? How did he get so attached in such a short amount of time? More importantly, why did Rayse care? Either way, he just shanked someone in the middle of the street. Even Rayse wasn't that audacious.

He found it difficult keeping up with Storm, likely an additional effect of mission he was on earlier. While he generally was a strong drinker, moving at this speed did make him feel quite uneasy. It didn't help when a tree practically exploded and threatened to yet again soil his designer slacks. Following close behind the lightning mage turned out to be a bad idea. Rayse stopped and absorbed his surroundings, knowing that they were entering some sort of warehouse district. They could actually lose them in a place filled with so many dark pockets.

He turned around and ran down another path, trying to head them off. Unfortunately, the buildings were packed so close together that there was no way to make a detour. There were a few people milling about, a cart pulling some construction goods, and an old man smoking a pipe on a barrel, but the work hours were over. An earthy scene permeated the area, the hard work of people wafting in the air. He noticed a stack of crates and climbed them like an enlarged staircase, finally jumping up onto the roof, pulling himself up and sprinting across the rooftop toward Storm's heartfelt beckoning. He put aside momentarily the idea of Taische calling him Uncle Storm and finally found himself directly above all the commotion. Right when he got there, he saw Taische running towards Storm, and he was reminded of a similar scene.

A while ago, he helped an associate recover their daughter from The Cult of Blessed Torture. She had been under their control for a long time, and recent experiments threatened her existence entirely, so they had to act fast, which meant Rayse didn't know what he was going into. When they got there, deep in the catacombs under Corone where The Cult lurked, she looked unharmed, glad to see them, her face with an innocent smile. And then just like that, still smiling, she stabbed her father in the heart. He knew full well the power of the mind, how it can be rended so deeply that the person on the other side was completely different. Was Taische under the same sort of mind control because of this bastard? Was she being threatened? Rayse had no way of knowing, and neither did Storm. Even if it was Taische, if she was to suddenly attack him... what would he do? Rayse had to act.

He took a couple steps back, then vaulted himself forward, his body turning red and partially transparent, leaving a trail of light in his descent. The next moment, he burst into hundreds of flame wisps, each of them snaking their way toward the girl like a strong gust of wind. His intention was to reform right behind her and put both her arms into a lock behind her ahead in one motion, and then yell at Storm to keep going and destroy the opening behind him. Not knowing the extent that Taische was being manipulated, he would also warn Storm to try to keep the other guy alive for interrogation later.

[Kryos]

“Taische!”

Only the groan of shifting earth answered his call as the young mage sealed off the passageway. He called after her again.

Foolish child! What is she thinking?

With no time to be surprised at her magical abilities, he turned and began searching for a way through the maze in which he now found himself. The tunnel had burrowed into one of the warehouses belonging to the Concordian Connection, apparent by the iconic “double C’s” branded into the crates and barrels that filled the building’s belly. To his right, a stairway ascended to the catwalks that crisscrossed the vaulted ceilings. If he could get to the windows . . .

His heart thudded and the warm, pine scented air caught in his throat as the earthen-colored shelves, supplies and illuminated dust blurred. He gripped the iron railing for support as the fire of his eyes faded to ash. The timing couldn’t have been worse.

He grit his teeth in frustration as his surroundings shifted in and out of his focus. How many times? he wondered. How many times have I been left behind and unable to act? To save those who needed me? His mind raced to the recovered memory of chasing after the Dawnbringers, to give aid against an enemy too great to be defeated. Despite his efforts, he hadn’t been able to do anything. To change anything.

To save Ingwe.

The regret and anger drove him forward. But for what, Kryos couldn’t say. Only by continuing would understanding come.

He leaned his head back against the rough wall, his gaze mirroring the dying light as he waited for the Transient State to end and his abilities to be restored. His hand tightened over his sword with impatience.

Then he heard her scream.

The piercing cry came down like a hammer upon the anvil of his mind, evoking flashes of the girl he thought he saw minutes before. Her golden hair spinning as she turned toward him. Running through a torchlit hallway of obsidian stone. The beauty of laughter playing at her lips, and tears falling from dirtied cheeks. The soft voice reverberated in his mind as she spoke his name.

The flash of a blade at her neck, and the silhouette of evil behind her.

Pack dropping to the ground, Kryos bolted up the stairs without another thought, shock and desperation carved across his face. His fingers struggled to open the windows, and in his haste he simply shattered the large pane with the hilt of his weapon.

A cool, gentle breeze played with his dark hair and clothes as he climbed to the peak of the roof and jogged along the crest. He reached the edge of the warehouse, dropped to one knee and looked down into the darkened alley where the girl had left him. Despite his impaired vision and the shadows cast by the sun, half-hidden by the horizon, he could still make out the situation.

His companion fought against one of the men, although he couldn't make out exactly which one had her arms pinned behind her head.

“LET ME GO!” she shouted, sending distressed echoes reverberating off nearby walls. “YOU'RE HURTING ME!” A wave of heat and light burst from the child, enveloping her and her captor but stopping short of the second man. “LET! GO!”

Kryos narrowed his eyes as the flames illuminated the alley, and he searched for a way down. Normally, it would have been a simple matter to descend, swords seeking the blood of the men below. However, with his vision limited for a few minutes more, his inborn caution held sway.

He raced along the edge of the roof, feet sounding hollowly on the corrugated tin. Perhaps a way down lay along the riverfront that he could use to simultaneously flank them. As he ran, he steeled himself and wished the sun would hurry up and disappear from the horizon.

This time, he had to protect her.

[Storm Veritas]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~
”Uncle Mal!"
A flash of red, a furious, desperate grab.
The casual reference to Karuka.
The too-perfect friendship, formed straight from the still-warm ashes of Radasanth.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~

Click. Click. Click. Click.

All the delicate tendrils of impossible, fibrous fate began to cross each other in a geometric web that seemed far too beautiful to be anything but meticulously planned. Of course, Storm had never recognized the name Rayse Valentino, nor connected it to his niece’s father, whom she had conspicuously referenced multiple times as “Uncle Mal”. Her mother had seen to his ignorance. Karuka had told him so little, and Rayse had told him less.

Ceasing his run, the wizard stood frozen for a moment near the base of the wall the child had just sealed, trying to piece together the impetus for this insanity. His chest heaved as he sucked in the cool air, his lungs burning and heart pounding as he tried to reconcile it all.

Rayse used you to get back to his girl. HIS girl, not yours. HIS girl, the same one Karuka had kept from him. Just like she kept you from her. Just as she let her be dragged off with this random asshole into the bowels of Corone.

Control. It was ALWAYS about control, wasn’t it?

The magician affixed himself to the notion that it was Karuka who had been the puppeteer, a notion that shook him to the foundation. It was incredible; how could he have been so thoroughly deceived? Karuka had been the only individual he had truly trusted; by extension she was the only one capable of effectively deceiving him. A lingering hiccup of doubt was all that kept abject hatred at bay. He needed answers, and it was unlikely the diminutive girl would be able to provide any. Her protector, kidnapper, or assailant would be the source of information, if there indeed was more to be gleaned.

But where in the blue f*ck is he?

The heavens answered Storm Veritas, as the crash of glass from the higher floors of the warehouse screeched a piercing, tinny echo down to him. Moments later, as if on cue, the dim silhouette of the interloper appeared thirty feet above him, peering over the edge of the edifice at the struggle below. The electromancer scrambled to find metal; anything large and ore-rich would do. The stone and mortar foundation offered little help; the chemically treated wooden ballasts of the great building appeared even less useful. Ten feet from the base of the building, a short pole spilled from the ground, rising high from the cobblestones before doubling back down, suspending a shrouded oil light. A hollow “ting” answered the tap of his dagger, confirming his suspicion that the pole may serve his trick.

He quickly jumped, pulling his body into a low crouch atop the lamppost’s arch. His weight immediately caused a creak, squeal, and sag from the thin metal, which he ignored completely as he suspended the dagger firmly an inch from the top of the metal. It was dangerous, stupid, and perfect.

Screw it. Any port in a storm.

A hard, soundless pulse was generated, the electromagnetic field sending both metal objects in opposite directions with speed, power, and reckless abandon. The streetlamp crashed to the ground as though sucked intentionally from the earth’s very core. Moving upward, the blade carried Storm Veritas in a high, wild arc, sailing toes over head as he somersaulted to the roof. His body was cast as a hard ebony shadow against the purple-pink background of the setting sun, the only light apparent within his frame popping from his pulsing white eyes. The stranger on the roof would pay him.

He would pay with answers, or he would pay with blood.

[Taische]

“Uncle Storm! Uncle Stooooooooorrrrrm!” Taische’s voice rose to a piercing shrill that set more than a few dogs to howling. Her body instinctively fought Uncle Mal’s pinning grab. She’d known when she burst that she couldn’t hurt him with fire; he’d been impervious to her panicked attacks in his Knife’s Edge penthouse. She had hoped that it would make him let go, or at least provoke Storm into coming to her aid.

When she’d decided to turn around and face her uncles, it hadn’t been because she trusted both men to be on her side. Uncle Mal was an empty man; the only person he had room for in his heart was himself. She’d spent a few days with him after he’d reclaimed her from a two-week hell in Alerar. He’d tried to be normal: he’d taught her how to yoyo, he’d talked to her, he’d fed her, sheltered her, and given her clothes while they’d waited for her mother to come for her. But though she’d tried to be normal also and pretend that the emptiness behind his eyes didn’t scare her, it did.

She’d spent much more time with Uncle Storm. They’d traveled with her mom through part of Dheathain, they’d been on boat rides, they’d had a disastrous day in town. But he’d risked his life to protect her more than once, and even if he picked on her sometimes, she had trusted him with every single piece of faith she had to keep her from harm.

Mom sent him away and he hates us now. If I’d waved and said hi when I saw them on the roof, would me and Kryos be eating dinner right now and then go camping? Why did they chase us down if they don’t like us? Is it BECAUSE they don’t like us? Is it because they don’t like my mom anymore and want to make her sad? Are they that bad that they’d hurt me and a stranger?

The raven-haired little girl stopped struggling for a second, sagging dejectedly. Briny tears stung her eyes; though rough and misshapen, the picture had fallen into place for her. She’d lost the love of the only man in half a world who really, truly cared about her, and now she had no one but her mother. She felt like a big chunk of her world had just shattered like a porcelain plate.

Uncle Storm had almost killed her when he dropped the tree, and maybe it had even been on purpose. Now he was going to kill Kryos. Uncle Mal was going to kill her, just as easy as that. Then her mother was going to kill both of them. But why had any of this happened?

If yer going t’ die, y’ have t’ fight ‘till yer last breath.

Karuka’s words, repeated over and over again through the years, wormed their way into Taische’s ear. Her shoulder throbbed from being contorted so hard right after Kryos had yanked her to safety, but she ignored it. Her fists clenched behind her head and her hands crackled for a moment before shooting a blast of electricity at the near-stranger who held her fast. She couldn’t kill him with it, but if it hit full on, it would hurt. Her whole body twisted hard, pulling free of Mal’s strong grip.

She darted back quickly, bending her knees so that her posture was low and balanced, and she quickly glanced back to make sure Kryos was still all right. She knew she had to focus on the wicked man in front of her, though.

Her tear-filled eyes narrowed and her lips curled back from her teeth. Dim lamplight flickered across her face and the musty night breeze stirred her long, wild hair. She glowered with all the ferocity her little body could muster, as much out of her own newly-stirred fury as a brazen attempt to convince the man she faced that she wasn’t afraid of him.

“What do you want, Uncle Mal?”

[Rayse Valentino]

"Hey! Stop struggling! Simmer down!" He meant that literally, what with all the human torch act.

Between all the shrieking and flailing, Rayse was having a hard time keeping a grip light enough not to crush her arms but strong enough to keep her from simply slipping through. It was as if he was trying to bathe an obstinate, wet cat. Eventually, it looked like she gave up.

"Finally. Now listen, I told Storm to interrogate him so he will probably not kill him, but - HRRRRK!" An electric shock coursed through his system, causing him to loosen his grip enough for Taische to get away. He fell backwards, hitting the ground hard and gasping for air. His body felt heavy as he stared up into the darkening sky, the breeze knocking loose strands of hair across his face. Part of him wanted to move, but another just wanted to lie there. The feeling didn't last long, as he started to regain feeling in his extremities. He shook his head and got back up, his body still jittery. "You little... Ugh..."

I think I'm going to throw up.

Taische was now in a stance in front of him, baring her fangs like a cornered dog. She glared at him like he was a starving furboar. He noticed the tears in her eyes, and scratched his head.

Not mind control, huh? So that leaves the threat, which I'm starting to find really hard to believe. When did she learn all this shit? Does this mean she's with this guy of her own volition? I doubt Karuka would let that happen after Storm... so bringing up her mother probably wouldn't get me anywhere. Not that I want to go down that road.

"What do I want?" Why. He wanted to know why. Right? "Who is that guy, and why are you with him? With the way you two bolted, I thought was threatening you." He put his hands in his pants pockets to try to look as undiscriminating as possible, although nothing could betray the coldness in his eyes. She called for Storm, after all. Storm. He couldn't deny that he felt a little hurt.

[Kryos]

Kryos came to an abrupt halt as the tall, pale man flew up and landed on the roof a few paces in front of him. Apparently, the duo had opted to divide and conquer. His mind raced as he evaluated his options.

He could fight through his pursuer in order to reach the far side, where a safe and easy way down may or may not await him. On the other hand, he could jump from the warehouse to deal with the man below, hoping that he would land uninjured. Even if that went smoothly, it didn’t take care of the problem standing before him. No, the only way where they could both escape involved neutralizing the threat, here and now.

Or you could run.

The thought sent a wave of burning fury coursing through his veins. He had had enough running away.

Head on, then.

A sharp crack flashed in the alleyway below as he moved his blade to his left hand. His gaze remained locked on his opponent, and he doubted that an appeal to what remained of the man’s reason would resolve things. He reached up, gripping the hilt of his elven sword. Fine steel sang in the cool Coronian dusk, eager to fulfill the job for which it was forged. Calming his breathing, he sent subtle tendrils of his magic into the edges of his blades. Invisible in the waning light, the power lay in wait for the moment when it could rip into the soul of his opponent.

It is faster to act than to react.

He exploded forward, closing the short distance in two great strides. Veering slightly to the left, his sword left silver streaks in Kryos’ sight as it sailed straight for the bastard’s neck. If he could get him off balance, then maybe . . .

Only then did he notice the dagger that flashed against the growing twilight.

[Storm Veritas]

Taische’s words had hit him as he vaulted towards the rooftop, but they were easily dismissed. At best, she was too young to understand the perspective of her own father, a man that only sought to preserve her safety. At worst, the apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree of manipulation, and it was little more than a ploy to tug the wizard’s heartstrings and keep him from hurting anyone. In either event, the words echoed like a memory to him, a thousand miles away as he turned his focus to the man on the roof. He was poised, waiting.

So you choose to pay with blood. Your funeral, asshole.

The magician’s mouth twisted in a thin, sinister grin as he settled his feet squarely beneath him, only a few feet from the edge of the rooftop. The flat, tar-painted surface had held warmth well, and the winds pushed firmly against his back. The normal sounds and scents which typically paint their mark on a moment in time were dulled away by the dire nature of the situation. The stranger began to move, brandishing a long, thin blade.

Swords. Common, effective, and always borne from metal. Too bad you aren’t standing in water and closing your eyes; it’s the only way you could make this easier on me.

The charge and assault of the strange, red-eyed assailant was balanced and skillful, however harmless it would prove. With a quick, effortless wave of his hand, Storm produced a second, silent magnetic wave that deflected the path of the blade, sending it sailing wide of his frame as though pushed aside by the Gods themselves. With a deft pivot, Veritas countered the initial attack with a quick stab at the throat of the man, meaning to end the battle before it truly began.

“Goodnight.”

”TING!”

Whoa, shit!

The stranger had somehow managed to block the dagger, with a quick turn and parry which was faster than anything Storm had seen in close combat. The speed shouldn’t have surprised him like it did; no standard swordsman would be able to abscond with Taische, nor prove a worthy bodyguard for the prodigy.

His dagger flailed up in his hand, sending the aged veteran backwards a half step. His eyes widened by the near-preposterous speed of this almost ordinary looking monster, his heels pressed against the knee-high parapet. He was vulnerable, like the cornered animal.

His frame high and daggers drawn, he fired a quick, direct arc of sizzling white energy at the swordsman. Given the speed of the soldier, Storm was pessimistic about his bolt’s success, but hoped to at least buy a moment to reset his feet.

[Taische]

He thought what? Who’s ever threatened me if they weren’t really trying to threaten mom, instead? Were they worried?

Mal’s words cut through all of Taische’s previous deductions, confusing her and leaving her off balance. She still watched the man warily. She called him “uncle” because he’d told her that he was a friend of her mother’s, but she’d seen the loathing and lingering anger between them. Her mom talked about Uncle Storm, and Uncle Seth, and Uncle Taviri, but never Uncle Mal. There was really no bond there. So why did he care? Or was it Uncle Storm who cared, and just pulled his friend along?

But Uncle Storm ran right after Kryos. So that means he either really trusts Uncle Mal, or he really doesn’t care about me. Little did she know how much more complicated the truth was than her limited understanding.

Unconsciously, the child’s posture responded to the adult’s; as he tried to look unthreatening, she straightened up and dropped her snarl. She reflexively shoved her hair out of her face, although only a few locks obscured her vision. Her lips set in a firm line, as the single new piece of information conflicted in her mind with everything else she knew so far. The pieces weren’t all adding up, no matter how hard she thought.

A brief clash of steel, followed by an electric SNAP! in the darkness above jerked her out of thought and back into reality. Her eyes darted to the lazy river gently flowing mere paces away. She could hit everyone with water if she had to, but that would only make things worse. What if Uncle Storm or Kryos fell? Worse, what if they didn’t and Uncle Storm used Kryos being all wet to really zap him good? She needed to get everyone to stop fighting or someone would get hurt.

I can’t make people stop fighting by fighting. So I have to try using words instead.

“My mom’s that way.” Taische pointed toward Underwood. “She had something dangerous to take care of, so she left me in Radasanth yesterday morning. Something happened and I left just before noon today.” Her little fists planted themselves on her hips. “I met Kryos on the road. I ran from you and Uncle Storm because I didn’t want to be caught here. And I will tell you the whole story, but I will tell it to you and Uncle Storm at the same time, so get him back down here. He won’t get anything by fighting.”

Taische stood tall and held her head high, giving herself as much command presence as a nine year old could. She glared imperiously at the finely-dressed Mal, well aware that he probably wouldn’t capitulate to her command. She hoped, instead, that he’d want to hear her story enough to call Uncle Storm back.

[Rayse Valentino]

The hot air wafted through the corridors of the palace, followed by the sun's rays as the royal treasurer's steps brought him into the light. While the inner wall to his right was solid, white stone, on his left were simple stone pillars, roughly as wide as him, each separated by a couple meters. While it made for a mess in the rainy days, they were rare in this jungle climate. Several well-maintained gardens with marble roads in-between were in full view, and beyond them were vibrant savannas. Further in the distance was the deadly beauty of the ancient jungles.

It was a particularly arid day, but the treasurer did not mind, with not a drop of sweat to be found anywhere on his white, linen robed figure. Despite the beautiful view beyond the palace courtyard and the scent of cut grass, he was focused solely on the parchment in front of him while walking, each sandal clapping on the ground along a familiar path. He was humming a familiar tune to himself, and between notes he could hear the laughter of children in one of the gardens below, likely playing in the fountains. He didn't even notice that someone snuck up on him.

"What are you singing, Rayse?" She asked.

Rayse turned around, his focus broken by the interloper. In front of him was a woman equally garbed in a robe, although it was scarlet and the sash was gold to his blue, with a gold banner across her shoulder to indicate her status as a royal guard. Her sandals were like his, and she kept her long rosy hair wrapped up in a ponytail. Every time he saw her, he nearly drowned in her eyes.

He smiled. "Oh, just something I picked up from one of the Duke's maids. I heard it so many times it's ingrained in my memory. How long have you been following me, Karuka?"

Karuka raised an accusing finger, "Following you? You've been asking around for me all morning! Then you disappeared into the archive for hours!"

"Oh, yeah. Sorry." He scratched his head. "The yearly budget is due soon and I keep getting distracted."

"It's Taische, isn't it?"

They walked together, heading into one of the inner corridors. Tapestries hung across the entire length of the walls between intersections, detailing various animals and seasonal festivals. They walked down a staircase to the ground level, their destination being the largest garden in the center of the palace. Rayse had been concerned for a while over what to do for Taische's ninth birthday. It's something he has wanted to do for a couple years now.

He cast Karuka a sidelong glance, "I think it's time I took her to see my homeland. She's old enough now to travel long distances."

As expected, she frowned, although she knew he was thinking this. "I thought we left that world behind. To raise them. To live a peaceful life. If you go there... you might not want to come back."

Rayse stopped and shook his head, "Your fears are unfounded. I would come back for sure. This isn't for me, it's for her. She's inherited your wanderlust, and I don't want to get left behind by her ambitions. I found out that she asked a villager to build her a mock boat that emulated the swaying caused by ocean waves. She's been practicing, uh, not throwing up. I don't see how this is different from you taking her into the jungle. It's actually not nearly as dangerous." Although, it was certainly no trip to the silk farm.

"I'll think about it. She's never known anything other than Jalaan, after all."

“Please do. She’s never seen the tall Raiaeran trees, the Aleran peaks, or even snow! She’s never seen snow, Karu!”

When they made it to the gardens, the plants nearly rose up to greet them, forming a wreath of green around the entrance. The smell of exotic flowers hit them as they walked in, and pollen floated in the air. They saw Taische playing in the fountain with several other children. They looked around for another child, but he was missing.

"Tash!" Rayse yelled out. Her little brother was nowhere in sight. "Where is Vinc-"

Rayse snapped out of his daydream. In front of him was a brash, desperate little nine year old. Nine years... That was how much he missed. It passed by in a blink of an eye. Also, her story didn't add up. Did she... purposefully leave out details? That's pretty advanced for her age. The sound of metal on metal on the rooftops told him that Kryos was no pushover, either, although the name was familiar. Maybe it was a blurb he saw in one of his intelligence reports years ago.

"This has nothing to do with your mom," he said. "It has everything to do with you. I don't know if this is normal where you're from, but around here you grown men don't just team up with little girls. Especially shady looking characters like that. Not unless they have ulterior motives." Rayse really needed a smoke, but he felt like waiting a bit longer. "That guy's unhinged. I can tell from here." Fuck it. He pulled out a cigarette, put it in his mouth, and lit it with the tip of his thumb. "But I'm a reasonable man. How about this: Prove to me that people like him pose no threat to you."

He pulled up one of his bracelets and pulled off some of the enchanted spidersilk wrapped around his arms. He attached one end to a throwing dagger in his pocket, and did this for another dagger. He threw one at the ground a few meters to Taische's left and another one to her right, forming an isosceles triangle with him as one of the corners.

"Get through me and I'll believe that you can handle yourself."