Her Dreadful State of Affairs

[Ladies' Man]

((Closed to Dipwood.))

It was a rare thing indeed to find Gabriel Talisman lying by himself, but it was even rarer to see the man on his back and looking perfectly content with his lack of company. The sun was similarly lonesome, a solitary golden orb in a sea of blue emptiness that the dark-clothed man could catch between his thumb and forefinger. He snickered up at the sky, squinting as he peered through the gap in his fingers at the blazing star overhead. His arm was sticking straight up from the shoulder, but the rest of him was flat on the ground, resting on a bed of crushed grass whose identical companions fanned out around him in a far-reaching field of golden summer growth.

Gabriel let his arm drop to his side with a contented sigh, wishing he had the energy to reach down and take off his boots to enjoy the full benefits of a lazy afternoon. He could hear the whisper of wind on grass and the occasional chirp of a cricket, but other than that the air was silent, just the way he wanted it.

It had been a long time since Gabriel had been far enough away from people to find an opportunity to enjoy a good bout of silence. He hadn’t yet missed the constant bustle and fuss of farming life that he’d grown up around in the weeks that had passed since he’d left his family’s land, and though his eventual destination was probably far louder than the small fief that he’d called home for the past twenty-five years, he was comforted by the thought that noise in the city would almost certainly not be originating from angry workers, nattering housewives, or unsettled cattle. Change was a good thing.

“Knife’s Edge,” he murmured aloud, smiling slightly as he moved to rest the ankle of his right leg against the knee of his other. He’d been there before, of course, but those visits had always been on business with his father, and he’d spent them being rushed from warehouse to warehouse and sitting for interminably boring meetings with all of the family associates as they discussed taxes and exporting and all manner of tedious affairs. This time he was going alone, and though he only had his purse full of money to keep him company, he was fairly certain that his present companion could do wonders to provide him with more.

His silver eyes drifted guiltily from the sky to his black leather backpack, which sat a few feet away from his head, its mint condition an accusing reprimand for his lack of motion. He frowned and looked away. It had been months since he’d left home and weeks since the last time he’d recovered one of the Girls, and though he’d promised his mother in a fit of dramatic passion to chase the thieves to the end of the world if necessary, he was only a few days’ walk from his family’s land, one or two fiefs over from the familiar acres on which he’d grown up. He’d been wandering around in search of clues, trying with an amateurish lack of skill to chase down the thieves who’d ruined his perfectly comfortable life, but he’d found nothing. He wasn’t convinced that he’d have any more luck in Knife’s Edge than he had out in the countryside, but having a clear destination and a potential goal towards which he could work did something to help alleviate his guilt. The longer he sat around, the longer it would be before he retrieved his birthrights and avenged his father. Gabriel’s good mood faded. Even dead the old man had an uncanny skill for putting a damper on his son’s happiness.

The longer he had to wander around after those daggers, the longer it would be before he could return to the comfortable standard of living for which he’d been born and bred. He sighed again and laced his fingers together on his stomach. Summer wouldn’t last forever, and traveling during an infamous Salvaric winter wasn’t even a plausible option. He needed to get back on the road. Soon.

His most immediate destination was a small community a few miles down the road, more of a collection of buildings than an actual town. It was known rather creatively as Tradepost, and it was a favorite place for lords to haggle and drink and with merchants who wanted the land’s rich produce and who would pit the lords against each other to see who would let them get away with paying the least for their fief’s crops. It was a village separate from the surrounding fiefs, practically a state unto itself, but it was so small that none of the bordering fiefs bothered to worry about it.

Ten more minutes and then I’m outta here, he promised himself.

A good half-hour later, Gabriel was shaken out of a half-asleep reverie by the noisy bellowing of an ox, and he sat up crossly to glare at the wagon that rumbled down the road past him. Maybe it was a sign. With a dreary sigh the young man pushed himself to his feet and slung his backpack over his shoulder, bitterly gazing down at the indent left by his body in the grass.

“No rest for the wicked,” he muttered. Or for those pursuing them.

[Ghost Hunter]

It was a blessing to be back in sight of solid land. Two weeks ago, with no hope of land in sight, and a hurricane at their back, Georgia-Ann had never thought to see dry sandy earth again. But they'd managed to stay upright and above the waves, cutting through the monstrous swells like a well-sharpened knife, and when the storm was over the man in the crow's nest shouted happily. In the darkness of the hurricane, they'd reached the outlying waters of Salvar. Fishing boats surrounded them, and further into the harbor a myriad of trading vessels awaited them. The medium heaved a sigh of relief that was echoed even by the most hardened sailor, brushing her saltwater-stiffened hair out of her eyes.


The captain hustled Georgia back into her tiny cabin as they pulled into the docks, wanting to be sure she didn't get in the way of his crew as they shored up the lines and set out the gangplank. It would have cost her the last of her money to get here, but fortunately the rich uncle of a Salvarian noble had sent her out to this vast land of ice and snow to dispel the ghost of some poor soul from a tiny church in some nameless village. The villagers refused to work for their feudal lord while the distressed soul of one of their own remained between worlds.

The little redhead wondered if it always took this long to prepare a ship for unloading, or if she was just impatient. As the captain called for all passengers to disembark though, she seemed to have no reason to ask that question anymore. With a bright smile, and her pack slung haphazardly over her shoulder, Georgia stomped down the board that would take her onto the docks and into the city.

Of course she'd have to take a cart of some sort to the little fiefdom that required her service. Either that or walk. A brief glance around and a deep breath of the clean air (albeit a bit fishy) revealed a steadily rolling road that pointed toward her destination and not a cloud in the flawless blue sky. In either direction stretched merrily waving fields of grain, the terrain marred only by the occasional tree. Georgia decided that since the weathered signpost said the village was only 3 leagues away, that she could easily make it by nightfall if she walked.

Mama's voice warned her of highwaymen somewhere in the back of her mind, but Georgia just laughed brightly as she shrugged her bag higher up on her shoulder and set off for her destination. She could get to like this whole traveling thing.

[Rayse Valentino]

A rumble echoed from afar, shaking the tables, chairs, and various liquors on the shelves for a moment in the tavern. The bartender turned around and told the chef that in all his years here he'd never felt an earthquake before, but lately they seem pretty common. The chef shrugged and continued polishing mugs. It was the third one, with the first couple happening in the early morning and early on last night. Rayse Valentino, also known as The Contractor in the Salvarian Black Market, drank some ale from a tall mug, taking his time and enjoying his drink contently. Of course, nobody way out here would know anything about that.

"Slow day, isn't it?" asked Rayse, apparently the only one at the bar drinking in the middle of the day.

"Yeah. Being the only food place in town, we'd usually have people even at this time of day," replied the bartender.

The only ones who were coming into the town now were already in the area, and none of them looked like soldiers so that meant outside influence on the town was next to nothing. There may have been some stragglers here and there, but Rayse doubted they would pose any sort of threat. He left some coins on the table and walked out, waving to the bartender with the back of his hand from behind.

"Nice feller, wasn't he?" asked the bartender, but the chef only shrugged.

Tradepost was a town between two distant, yet semi-important places. At first it was only that, a trade post, but eventually some traders settled the area. Its notable aspect was that it was its own territory, with no apparent owner under the fief system. It's perfectly avoidable with a simple detour, but lords or other officials traveling long distances liked to stop by. One could only assume a lot of money changed hands here. Aside from the personal guards the lot carried wit them, it was a defenseless location.

The plan was simple: Go to the forks in the roads and destroy the one leading to the town. Have a few men wearing white masks that cover the nose and mouth sit in front of the destroyed road, directing oncoming traffic towards the detour. If the traveler was insistent, warn them of the highly-contagious airborne plague the townsfolk are suffering from, pointing to their white masks. If the traveler was STILL going to go through, take them out. He had two men wearing armor and swords at each location, with a few lying in wait on the outskirts of the village, slowly heading towards it. Rayse only had about 20 mercenaries, but it was enough to keep the village in check. He walked up to the mayor's house and knocked on the door.

"Ah, welcome, welcome!" said a voice from inside, gradually increasing in volume.

The door opened and a vibrant old man wearing overalls and slippers held the door open, "I'm always up for greeting a guest to my town. Come in, come in!"

Rayse entered, checking out his surroundings. It was a mansion handed down from mayor to mayor in this village, apparently one of the first buildings. Its age was apparent, as the wooden walls were chipping away, the furniture had many woven straps on them, and the curtains were ragged. You'd think he would be able to afford all this.

"Come into my office and sit down! Elra, come bring our guest a nice cup of tea!" he said, entering a room and motioning Rayse to come inside.

He seated himself behind a large desk, in what looked to be the only nice chair in the house. A chair was in front of the desk, but Rayse didn't sit. That wasn't his chair.

"2000," declared Rayse.

"I beg your pardon?" asked the mayor, putting his right hand to his ear as if he didn't quite hear Rayse correctly.

"I know a few guys outside and they're really hard to deal with. I mean, just awful characters," Rayse snickered, "They really wanted to burn the whole place down, can you believe that? Insufferable, right? So I decided I'd do you and your town a favor and give them an alternative, and that's it; 2000. Good deal, right?"

"I... !" the mayor stood up in shock, grabbing his chest.

The mayor's wife Elra came and and put two cups of tea on the table, only looking up afterwards to see the distraught mayor, "Is something wrong, dear?"

The mayor was silent, unable to form words and nearly hyperventilating.

"I just told your husband I would renovate the place. Maybe add a dash of fire red paint," grinned Rayse.

"Oh, isn't that just wonderful?" Elra beamed, "I better go clean up, wouldn't want the painters to think this is some sort of pig sty."

Elra left, and Rayse walked towards the desk, with the mayor slowly inching away from his seat, droplets of sweat dampening his eyebrows.

"2 hours. That's all the time I can give you. Sorry, those guys are so impatient."

The mayor ran out, and Rayse sat in the nice chair, putting his elbows on the arm rests and touching just the tips of his fingers together. The men he put outside the village should be coming into it by now, fully clad in armor themselves, so the mayor should see them and know this is a serious threat. Not that a bunch of villagers would be able to put up any sort of resistance or anything. Small wisps of white rose from the two untouched tea cups. Rayse opened some of the drawers in the desk and flipped through some of the papers. One document in particular caught his eye.

[Ladies' Man]

It had been bad enough leaving his perfect nap spot, but things just went downhill from there. He reached the familiar fork in the road that promised the town’s proximity with no problem, but standing rigidly in the middle of the road he wanted to travel down was a couple of men with strange little white masks over their faces.

“Ho there, strangers,” he called pleasantly as he approached. “Y’all must be from Corone or something; only the ugly women have to wear masks around here.”

“They’re for protection, sir, and I’ll have to ask you to kindly turn back around and head home. You can’t pass this way.”

Gabriel had stopped a short ways away from the man, who stood a few feet ahead of the other man in identical facial covering. Both had big, sharp-looking weapons.

“Excuse me?” Gabriel tilted his head and motioned towards his ear. “I don’t think I heard you correctly. Did you just tell me that I can’t take this road?”

“Yes, sir, I did.”

“Under what authority are you forbidding me from traveling in my own home state?” The noble blood within him roared at the insult.

“We’re trying to save lives here, sir,” the guard said patiently, his breath making the white mask billow out and back against his face. “There’s a highly contagious airborne plague that’s running rampant in Tradepost. We’re here to make sure no one spreads it.”

“An airborne plague?”

“That’s right.”

“Hmm.” His noble goal ever in mind, Gabriel crossed his arms and weighed his options quite seriously for a few ponderous seconds. On the one hand, he had guaranteed immunity against any sexually-transmitted disease, a gift for which he had never once stopped being grateful. On the other hand, he wasn’t sure that a disease that could be passed on by physical contact could also be passed on through the air. If it could, that meant that his gift could protect him even from this reputedly deadly disease. Then again, if it didn’t . . .

“There’s no use in being fatalistic, my good man. Everybody has to die sometime, right? I think I’ll take my chances with Tradepost, if that’s all right with you.” He flashed a winning smile and took a step towards the man. Thinking it all the way through required more energy than he was willing to expend, and most rumors of disease were more exaggeration than fact. Plagues killed off peasants; noble blood was made up of stronger stuff. There was a flash of metal and then something cold was resting against his neck, just below his chin. Gabriel glanced down the long blade of a sword and did his best not to swallow.

“No, sir, you won’t. This is my last warning. Go home, or face the consequences of your own stupidity.” There was no missing the warning in the man’s gruff voice and unyielding glare. He was a few inches taller than Gabriel and handled his sword with the ease of someone long accustomed to being obeyed.

Gabriel kept his voice level. “I . . . think I’ll just try again another day.”

He could feel the man’s eyes boring into his shoulders as he turned around and trooped back down the road, keeping his back straight and affecting as unbothered an air as he could. Inside, however, he was seething. Who dared to cut off the road as if it belonged to them? The roads had always been equally-shared property; tariffs and roadblocks weren’t allowed! If his father were still alive, the old codger would have blown a vessel just from hearing about the audacity of those swindlers. What kind of self-respecting noble would take such rudeness from mere strong-arms?

He retraced his steps for about a mile, until he was far enough away from the fork in the road that he couldn’t even see it across the flat ground of the fields. They could cut off the roads, but there was no way a group of pansy-faced thugs was going to keep him from where he wanted to go. Glancing up with shaded brow to mark the sun’s location, Gabriel had turned off the road and trekked across the fields, skirting wide of the road and ducking against the ground at any sign of life, most of which turned out to be inquisitive cows or startled fowl.

As a result of the necessary absurdity, Gabriel’s mood was downright unforgiving by the time he had come close enough to Tradepost to see the decrepit buildings that comprised its poverty-stricken façade. His clothes were dirty and his boots were wet and he was pretty sure that there was a live insect burrowing around in his trousers. He’d practically snuck into town by ducking through a cornfield and jumping a few fences, and every inch of exposed skin was itching mightily in protest of the harsh treatment.

It had taken more than twice as long to get there, but it was still with satisfaction that Gabriel made his way down an unpopulated street. It was true that though the route through Tradepost was faster than the other, he could have taken the detour and still have made it to Knife’s Edge in good time - probably in better time considering how long it’d taken him just to get into Tradepost - but it was really the principle of the matter that made his presence in the tiny village so satisfying. As a wise poet had once said, “Destinations are great, but getting there is half the fun.” And the Tradepost dust on his boots was evidence that nobody told Gabriel Talisman what to do.

Gabriel paused mid-step, stopping in the middle of the unpaved road as his eye caught a glimpse of something that stole his attention more completely than any approaching axe-brandishing berserker could ever have. It was a flash of liquid gold, a phoenix taking flight in the form of tossed hair, the sudden appearance of a slender neck topped by a moon-shaped face that gazed out—not at him—towards perhaps some distant beauty that only one as equally beautiful could behold. She was in a yard behind a shoulder-high fence, wearing a straw hat that must have had the sun weeping at its inability to touch her, and as she frowned down the road at some object that he couldn’t bear to turn away from her to see, Gabriel felt his heart clench in agony at the thought that she didn’t even know of his existence.

Setting off across the street with the determined step of a man on a mission, Gabriel was intent on changing that.

[Rayse Valentino]

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"What a sad, sorry lot."

Rayse looked into the tiny 3 bedroom room. It looked more like a college dormitory than an inn. Several other rooms were rented out in the same manner. He was greeted by a rather foul odor as he entered, accompanied by bags of clothing and trash at his shoes. The three residents were sitting on the beds woefully, with only one of them looking up at Rayse. They were wearing cloth head coverings, vests, and various wraps, a common prefitting before putting on heavy armor.

"It's not as if we haven't been tryin, ya know?" replied the one looking at Rayse, "It's just... things are slow right now. Mercenary work doesn't go as far as it used to for our little group."

Rayse paced about the room, his presence making the others uneasy, "I hear that... but I'm a man of promises. You boys promised me you'd pay, and my patience is running thin." In one motion, he pulled a carton of cigarettes and a lighter from his right pocket with his right hand and up to his mouth. One cigarette slid perfectly from the carton and the cap on the lighter came off. The click of the lighter echoed throughout the room, and the cigarette was lit. With the same motion, both items were back in his pocket. "Hey, it's alright. I'm a reasonable man, I can compromise. After all, if you can't pay me with money, I know of other ways to get what is rightfully mine."

Rayse inhaled deeply on the cigarette, and exhaled various shapes into the room. The smoke trails listlessly floated around. One of the tenants, decided he could take this pressure no longer, ran at Rayse from behind, brandishing a knife he had concealed under a pillow. He held onto it with his right hand and thrust forward, toward the middle of Rayse's back. Rayse let his arms fall backwards, palms facing forward, as if he was submissive and swung his left arm back, pivoting his body left and making the connection between his left arm and the attacker's knife hand. Rayse brought the rest of his body around, starting with his right leg, now facing the assailant, wrapping his left hand around the man's right bicep and his right hand around his forearm, his right elbow making contact with the man's neck. Taking control of the knife arm, Rayse pushed down on his elbow while pulling on the man's knife arm, and the next sound heard was the man crashing down into the ground as Rayse suddenly pushed down on his right elbow, his strength causing the man to choke. To the spectators, the last action was so fierce and sudden it was like a blur. Rayse, with knees bent, still held the man's knife arm, which was now loosed and the knife fell harmlessly to the floor.

Rayse let go of the man's arm and reached for his right ankle, where his own knife was kept, and pulled it out of its thin sheath. With one look at Rayse's knife before it was pressed against his sore throat, the man knew he was in trouble. It was a Kapteyn, a military knife used by professional Salvarian knife instructors. The dark brown handle scales were made of Liviol wood from trees right here in Salvar, and the properties of it were hardness and the ease of applying a firm grip. Perhaps there was something else, but Rayse, being so magically uninclined, was unaware of them. The blade was made of stainless steel, and the top of the razor sharp blade had a half-length swage, for reduced cross sectional profile of the spine and therefore, excellent penetration. Knife talk aside, Rayse's very instincts dictated his actions, and if it wasn't for his free will, the man would be dead by now.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't seperate your head from your body," Rayse demanded, a grin sprawled about his face.

"Wait!" the one previously talking to Rayse spoke up, "I... I have an idea!"

"You have 30 seconds," declared Rayse, pressing the knife against the man's neck while he squirmed underneath.

"I, I heard there's this here town called Tradepost, see, and, well, it's between these fiefs but isn't actually part of any fief, so it's out of them there juris... juris-somethin'."

"Your point?"

"Well, that means it's undefended and pays no local taxes, so it must be rolling in dough. We could, we could..."

"Rob it?"

"Y, yeah! Now please, I said we'd get the money, will you let my friend go? He's really sorry."

Rayse got up, still staring at the man on the ground, "Are you?"

"Forgive m, me!" he stammered out, "I was, s-scared, sir!"

"No problem. It happens."

Rayse helped the man up and he seemed to calm down. He was about to thank The Contractor for sparing him but Rayse suddenly planted a fist into the side of his face, sending him flying towards a wall, knocked out instantly. Rayse's cigarette was still in his mouth the whole time, and he inhaled from it again, exhaling more gentle shapes into the room, as if signaling he was out of his instinctual aggression now.

"You know, you may be on to something," he said to the shocked, talkative tenant, "I think I have a better idea, though."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

[Ghost Hunter]

It wasn't five minutes after she'd gotten into the quaint little town and tossed her things onto a bed in the tiny room she'd rented at the local inn, that a low rumble had shaken the floorboards. Georgia had glanced out the window and not seen anything unusual, but now, as she sat downstairs at a grimy and cracked table over a cup of cider, she was starting to wonder.

The innkeeper looked worried for some reason, and his wife kept muttering about it being slow. Georgia-Ann didn't know why a sleepy little village like this one would be busy, except for its being situated on a trade road. Leaving her cup on the table, which garnered a frown from the little tow-headed girl that was keeping everything tidy, the medium wandered to the window and then stepped outside for a look around.


The same worried expression that had marred the kindly face of the innkeeper seemed to be stamped onto the rest of the townspeople as well. It was a gorgeous evening, the crispness of autumn only touching the golden air with a gentle bite when the breeze blew. The air smelled of apples, and the sun set to the west and left the dust shimmering in its wake. So why were people scuttling around as though the world was coming to an end?

And why in the hell was some boy sneaking into town? Wouldn't it be easier just to come in by the main road like she had? Georgia stepped a little further out into the square, ignoring the peasants who scurried past her. The young man, once past the outskirts of the farmland that surrounded the village, seemed perfectly at ease - he obviously wasn't a fugitive or outlaw here. So why would he be sneaking in?

The poor candle-maker sighed and shook her head, turning with a shrug to head back into the inn. Dinner should be on the table any minute, and a good night's sleep in a bed that didn't rock was just what she needed. If only she'd just stayed the night down at Knife's Edge. Might have cost a bit more, but she'd at least have been expecting all the intrigues in a big city like that.

[Ladies' Man]

Gabriel slowed his approach to a saunter as he drew nearer, savoring the way every step brought the woman’s features into clearer view. He promised himself that as soon as he got her to smile, that wide-brimmed hat was going to be the first article of her clothing to go.

“Ma’am,” he said with a charming wink when he was close enough to the fence to rest his hands on the edge, “could you perhaps direct me to the nearest inn?”

It was a ridiculous request for a multitude of reasons, the main one being that there was only one inn in town and it was right across the street from where he was standing. He was hoping that the woman would either catch the humor and pick up on the lively wit of her new suitor or else take him for a fool and offer to accompany him there to make sure he didn’t get lost.

But the young woman’s lips were still pressed tightly together and her piercing green eyes were squinted as she stared down the road. She hadn’t moved at all since Gabriel had first laid eyes on her, and he was self-consciously about to make sure that she wasn’t merely a life-like statue when the golden-haired young woman’s eyes flickered, sliding to rest on him for the briefest moment before she yanked her attention back to the road.

A bit affronted by the ignorance, Gabriel glanced over his shoulder to see what had caught the lady’s eye. He could see the finely-dressed form of an older man darting from the doorway of one house to another, but aside from that strange spectacle there seemed to be nothing to distract her from him. He turned back to her a little miffed and almost jumped back in alarm when he found the woman only a few inches away from the fence, her wiry, tapered hands clutching the ridge of fencepost on either side of his. She was about a foot shorter than he, but she was still somehow intimidating in a claw-happy housecat kind of way. Her mouth was still set in a disapproving line, but now her eyes were wide and glaring, the shining green of her irises perfectly complemented by the wisps of light hair that fell across her face. Gabriel saw with a rush of approval that she had a spattering of freckles across the bride of her pert nose.

“What do you want?”

It wasn’t quite the swoon that he’d been hoping for, but the beauty of her melodic voice—even lacking the slightest hint of patience—bolstered Gabriel’s confidence.

“Are you asking about long-term goals, my lady, or do you speak of the immediate future?”

His droll ways didn’t seem to impress her. “Why are you here?”

Gabriel tilted his head to the side, wishing the young woman would blink. Her eyes were too intense for such long bouts of exposure. “I’m on a journey of retrieval and merely passing through your fair town on my way to Knife’s Edge.” He sighed piteously. “A sojourner’s life is a lonely one, and your exquisite beauty caught—”

“Now really isn’t a good time to be here.” Her eyes jumped away and the line of her mouth grew more severe before her gaze returned to his face. “I suggest you forego your night’s stay and hightail it to your big city before things get ugly.”

Considering the turmoil surrounding his arrival, he had some idea of what ugliness she might be referring to. But even the threat of danger didn't make him want to leave the young woman's presence. Gabriel changed tactics, the smile dropping off his face to be replaced with a look of cautious concern.

“What’s going on?”

Her eyes darted away again to glance from side to side before returning to him. She leaned slightly closer and spoke softly, but her voice was urgent enough to make herself clearly audible.

“I think someone’s trying to make my father pay him to keep him from destroying Tradepost.”

She spoke in all seriousness, but Gabriel’s lips twitched before he could control himself. Who would be dumb enough to try to hold up Tradepost? Was there a secret goldmine hidden beneath the village? Were there infamous ex-monarchs hiding away behind the dilapidated facades of the shacks? He wanted to laugh her worries away, but he’d learned at a young age that it was never wise to mock a woman’s fears.

“Who is your father?”

“The mayor,” she answered. “I was out here in the garden and overheard a very . . . disturbing conversation. I'm worried for our safety.”

Gabriel’s heart fluttered. She was noble and fierce as well as beautiful, not to mention that her lowered eyebrows made her face look positively cherubic. He straightened his spine and frowned with determined concern, moving his right hand to rest it gently on top of hers.

“My lady,” he declared warmly, “I am Gabriel Talisman, firstborn son of Lord Geraine Talisman of the fiefdom by the same name, and I promise to do whatever is within my power to ensure that the integrity of this town and the honor of your father are preserved.”

Her eyes flashed and she pulled her hand from beneath his, taking a step back to eye him with dismissal.

“A lord’s son?” she repeated contemptuously, her hands on her hips and her lips curled in an alluring sneer. “You’re not even armed. If you really want to be useful, go in there and kill the man whose sitting at my father’s desk!”

Gabriel nodded once to show that he’d heard her, but he knew he wasn’t even going to mount the steps to the front door, which was a few grades nicer than any of the ones around it. As admirable as the lady’s intensity was, experience had taught him that women usually didn’t know quite as much about the affairs of men as they pretended to. Killing the man might seem to her the simplest solution, but she probably wasn’t aware that whoever was in charge had already taken steps to secure the village. For all he knew, the man inside might not even be the real leader of the operation.

“Before I embark on any rash and perhaps regrettable courses of action in your honor, might I have the privilege of learning your name?” He kept his voice as polite as possible, trying to hide his eagerness.

She eyed him mistrustfully, then glanced again down the road and gave a tiny shrug of resignation before shaking her head. “My name is Elise, but I don’t want you fighting for my honor. Anyone who’d attack a town like Tradepost is pure evil. Fight to oppose them, not to appease me.”

Gabriel gave a bow, astonished by the eloquence of her entreaty. She’d grown up in a rather rustic town, but she spoke like the granddaughter of a king! She was magnanimous, carried herself like a courtier, frowned with the prim regality of a queen . . . he could barely contain his elation. What luck, to meet such a diamond in the rough! Granted, she wasn’t warming to him as quickly as he had hoped she would, but she was under a bit of stress, and playing the role of hero had always been something that Gabriel had been good at, especially when in the service of a beautiful young woman.

Elise. He had no idea of how he would proceed; he needed to find a way of ignoring her advice without hurting her feelings. It was a difficult quandary, but even tired from the hike in Gabriel felt himself reviving at the challenge.

It may not happen as speedily as I’d like, he promised himself, but I won't leave Tradepost until I am well within the good graces of the fair lady Elise.

[Rayse Valentino]

The suit of armor was particularly hot that day, Despite the shade of his helmet, the sun pierced Eric's eyes every time they met. He trudged along the dusty town road, at last reaching the mayor's mansion. He narrowed his eyes, his mind trying to remember what it was he was supposed to do here. He was a simple man, living the mercenary life and only thinking when he was told. More and more had the government contracted and serviced its own hired army, and his profession had become less viable in small numbers. Perhaps this was his big break, and with all his debts repaid he could start a new life, far away from the turmoil of the city. Of course, he knew himself, and after thirty-five years on this planet he knew this was a pipe dream. An old man burst from the mansion, running across the street to the next nearby building. This peculiar event caused Eric to remember his task. Of course! He was to meet the boss in the mayor's house!

The paper lay on the desk, its beholder staring at it in disgust. It had only been a few minutes since Rayse lit his cigarette, but it was already a stub he was grinding between his teeth. He was annoyed, not only at who he thought was responsible for this entire charade, but at himself for going along with it so carelessly. Loud knocks came from the front door, and judging by the sounds he was hearing, his subordinate had gained entry thanks to the mayor's wife and was heading his way. He grabbed the cigarette butt from his mouth and tossed it out the open window. Standing up, he stuffed the all-important document into his vacant pocket and walked to the door, opening it before the other party could.

The armored mercenary jerked himself upright, a bit taken at the sudden door opening, "S, sir! I've come as you said! ...Sir!"

The mayor's wife was dusting on the far side of the hallway, looking suspiciously at the armored man. She had ascertained that he was an acquaintance of the better-dressed fellow, but why he had a fully-armored friend was beyond her. She decided it would be in her best interests to pay it no mind, as it looks like they were leaving anyway.

"How rude of my husband! To suddenly leave you like that! I hope you take no offense to his outburst," said she.

"Of course not, ma'am. In fact, I'll go out and look for him myself," replied Rayse.

The mayor ran into the tavern, shouting "Big trouble, Jim! I want you to get the council members from the west side of town and I'll get the ones from the east. I want to see them in this building within twenty minutes; this is an emergency!"

"Woah now," replied the bartender, "What's all this about? If it's about those tremors, I really don't think..."

"-No, no it's not about that! P, please do me this f-favor, old friend."

While that last part seemed forced, the mayor ran out to the next building. It seems that the tavern at the center of town would be where all the prominent townsfolk would be assembling. Outside the mansion, Rayse and Eric observed the manic mayor.

"Alright, well let's have it," started Rayse, "Give me your report."

Eric looked Rayse right in the eyes and said nothing. The Contractor sighed.

"I know you have good eyes, Eric. You notice things that others do not, even if you don't know it at first. I told you to take the long way into town, and observe your surroundings. What is your report?"

"Oh, that..." Eric paused for a moment, as if deep in thought, "Aha! There was one patron at the inn, a woman I'd say. Aside from that, nothing out of the ordinary, and-"

Knowing that with a report like that, Eric saw nothing out of the ordinary, Rayse stopped him from going into trivialities, "I understand. Remember that if these people try anything, do your 'big whistle' to signal the torch-bearers. I trust you know what those parameters are."

Another armored man appeared from the distance, approaching closer. Rayse knew that the mayor would see these people all over town, not even counting the hidden men whose only purpose would be to set the town alight had negotiations come to a breakdown. Although, it was probably impossible to cover all the areas of the town. The men he sent out on the highway should be back within an hour or so, to conclude this affair.

"By the way, Big Eric, whose idea was this again?" asked Rayse, with emphasis on the was.

"Why, Dereck's of course," Eric nodded, "He's always the brains of our outfit, that he is."

Rayse was already set on his idea. He was going to sell Dereck into slavery.

[Ladies' Man]

He could feel Elise’s eyes on him, but he resisted the urge to turn around and blow her a kiss. She didn’t seem the type to appreciate fond gestures—at least not so early in their relationship. He walked with his head high and his back straight, hoping his bearings would make up for the mud that stained the hems of his pants. When would he have the opportunity to get them cleaned?

But there were other matters that demanded his attention. Most importantly, he needed to find a way to alleviate Elise’s stress so that she’d calm down enough to have a decent conversation. He’d left her with the order to stay in the garden and pretend that she hadn’t overheard anything, just to be safe. Then he’d set off down the road with all the air of a horseless knight going to a joust to win the lady’s honor. He certainly felt that way as he entered the inn, as if he were playing dress-up and acting the fierce warrior for the sake of one of his sister's silly games. It certainly brought back memories of over-sized costumes and rusty swords that he got in major trouble with his father for “borrowing” . . .

The smell that hit Gabriel’s nose as he entered the tavern occupying the ground floor of the inn brought him instantly to the present. In a perhaps overly dramatic show of revulsion, he choked on air and had to take a minute at the door, coughing robustly and waving his hand in front of his face. When he’d grown accustomed enough to the mingled scent of bitter ale and what seemed like rotting flesh that breathing was again a viable option, he took a moment to survey the room before sauntering further in. It was a sparse establishment; no thought had been given to potential embellishments that could have brightened the place up or given it a more refined décor. Everything was made out of cheap but sturdy wood, and clean windows intermittently lined the walls with cheap lanterns that were as yet unlit. There was a big black cauldron hanging over the fire in the large hearth at one end, and Gabriel had the nauseating feeling that whatever the stench was that had assailed his nostrils was being produced by whatever was being mercilessly boiled in the pot.

“Can I ’elp ya, sir?”

He’d made it to the bar without retching and sat gingerly on one of the wooden stools, resting his hands on his knees so that he wouldn’t have to risk staining his sleeves on any kind of sticky remnant that might have been left on the bar. The voice speaking to him belonged to a tall and gangly red-headed boy behind the counter who looked downright uncomfortable in the clean apron that hung around his neck.

“Actually, it’s quite possible that you can,” Gabriel said graciously. “I’m looking for some information on what’s going on in town today.”

The boy scratched his nose, his eyes wandering around the room as if in search of an intelligent thought. “I don’t think there’s anything planned goin’ on today.”

Gabriel frowned. “Are you sure? Did a man not come running by- or perhaps- in here a short while ago?”

The youth nodded. “Oh yeah! That was the mayor.”

Gabriel waited, but that seemed to be all that the boy offered. He sighed. “Is there an adult around here that I could speak with?”

The lad stepped closer and glared at Gabriel indignantly. “I am an adult! I’m fourteen, and I’m gonna inherit this here inn from my da.”

“Not if you can’t learn how to speak properly,” Gabriel said with a touch of compassion. This boy was definitely the most uncultured youth that he had ever laid eyes on.

“Hey, I’ll throw you out, I will!” His face was getting red enough to match his hair. “Just you wait til my da gets back from getting the men together for the council meeting, and then you’ll be sorry!”

Gabriel rolled his eyes and dropped a few copper coin on the counter before rising to leave. “Thanks, kid. Bring me a cup of something from a barrel that doesn’t have dead animals floating in it, all right?”

He went to a table on the side of the tavern nearest to the street and sat down facing the door, making sure he could still see the bar out of the corner of his eye, just in case the kid decided to spit in his drink or something like that. There were few other patrons, just two pairs of men deep in discussion and another sitting alone with a half-empty pitcher in hand where his mug should have been who was definitely not alert enough to be bothered by the smell. And to think that this was the liveliest place in town . . . Gabriel felt a moment’s pity for the tiny town.

He peered through the window to look at the mayor’s house, hoping to catch a glimpse of glorious beauty that would make his current environment more bearable, but Elise was no longer in the garden. Had she gone behind the house? He hoped she wasn’t getting herself involved in some kind of stupid ruse to help her father. Why did women have such a hard time of not getting involved in men’s affairs? The mayor’s daughter had already found a soft and tender spot in his heart, and he certainly didn’t want anything to happen to her.

After a short time, men began to trickle in, most looking confused and annoyed, as if they’d been called there unexpectedly for unknown reasons. Were they members of the council? Gabriel couldn't think of a good, non-imminently violent reason for why a surprise council meeting would be called. Could it be that those men who'd bothered him on the road had some kind of sinister plot in mind for Tradepost? It didn't seem likely, but he left the drink the boy brought him untouched and sat up straight in his chair to wait for the mayor’s reappearance. He was beginning to think that maybe Elise wasn’t quite so unwarrantably hysterical after all.

[Rayse Valentino]

The reason for the meeting was very clear in Rayse's eyes, although what exactly they were going to discuss perturbed him. He did not like the idea of them mobilizing to form some sort of militia, or any other possibility that didn't involve giving him money. He let the townspeople gather, only observing from the far. Most of the people entering the tavern noticed the armored men on the way there, so great concern was given to make sure nobody lagged behind. When they were all gathered, the mayor entered the tavern finally. Rayse waited until they had started talking before entering to draw attention away from himself. It took about fifteen minutes for them all to get settled.

Standing on the bar table itself, the mayor announced, "My people, we are in a moment of crisis! Our fears have been realized, and men have come demanding money of our poor town!"

One woman spoke up, "Is that the nature of the armored men outside?"

"I'm afraid so," he replied.

The townsfolk immediately burst into gossip, leaving the pitiful mayor to jitter and gnash his teeth.

"Please! Listen to me! We only have an hour and a half to decide all this! The problem of money was discussed in the last city council meeting, and I'm afraid we are simply unable to give into this demand."

Rayse, standing near the entrance in a shadow, pulled out the piece of paper in his pocket and glossed over it again. The mayor wasn't lying; they were all broke.

"What about our investments? The extensions to the city, the new marketplace, everything! It's all finalized already, there is no going back on them!" One man spoke up, referring to the fact that construction had already begun and all the materials were in use.

"T-T-This is why I have called you all! We are to figure out a solution to this dilemma! They are demanding 2,000 of us!"

Rayse thought, "Figures, all those zeros on that contract means they're in debt now. I wasn't really planning on burning this place down, but I am a man of my word."

Once again the mayor's voice was obstructed by the yelling of the townspeople. All of them were asking each other how much they had or if they had anything of value, and many negative replies and shaking heads defined the event. Rayse couldn't help but notice the pretty boy sitting off by himself, uninvolved with the discussions. The young man was well-dressed and looking a lot more refined than the rest of the people in the room, including Rayse himself. Big Eric had not mentioned him, so where did he come from? It was possible he was here before all this started, but for such a guy to stay in this place so long seemed unlikely. Rayse did not consider that he crept into the town undetected.