~â€*Shards of a 'not-so-Fairy' Taleâ€*~

[Devil May Care]

”All the knights, all the brave heroes are gone. All that is left is common folk, and common evil.”

The words rang through Shard’s head as he drifted down the streets of Radasanth. All around him, people pushed and shoved, trying to get to shops or whatever destination they had. Kids like him, which hid in the back streets and took little-known alleyways to avoid the eyes of guards could easily slip in and out of a crowd like this. However, it was his type that liked crowds, for people in crowds often don’t pay attention to a minor bump when the pushing and shoving is commonplace. Regrettable thought it was that he had to steal to stay alive, Shard did it well and never hesitated to take something that would let him live for another night. Right now, though, he really needed food and was eyeing a satchel tied to a fat man’s waist that was bulging with gold, crying out to be taken. With his fingers twitching in excitement, he nodded in assent and did his best to shut off his conscious while slipping into the crowd.

After a bit of skilled navigation, the boy placed himself in arm’s reach of the satchel and waited for the right moment. The avarice-struck man bent over to examine a beautiful necklace that he could buy for his mistress, singling out the authentic gold from the phonies that surrounded it. Then, as if on a side thought, he grabbed a small ring for his wife, well distracted by the marvelous craftsmanship done on the necklace, his mind set on what his personal reward would be that night for such a gift. Never had his mind lingered to think for even a moment that a boy was slipping a rusty knife into his belt and detaching the tiny bit of weight that a man like him would never notice to be gone. Quite later, when the deed was far done, he reached down to his side to pay for the purchase when he found nothing. With a grumble he assumed he left the change purse at home and fumbled into his obscenely tight vest for his wallet. Lustful gift taken into possession and hidden, he went on his way, ignorant to his loss.

Taking inventory in what he had acquired in a secluded, dark alley, Shard counted the gold pieces once more for clarity. There was only about a hundred coins in the purse, but it would last him a week of food. That would mean no more stealing for a whole week! Laughing merrily at his luck, he began scooping the coins back into the purse when a loud crash echoed from behind him.

“What do you think you are doing, boy?”

With a gulp, he quickly collected the rest of the coins, closed the purse and hid it under his frayed shirt. His carelessness made him miss a coin, which lingered halfway buried under a warrant for the arrest of some random criminal. Turning, he stood and faced the man that had spoken to him, and found a large group of grizzled teenagers standing around him with an older, scarred young man closest. The obvious leader had a jet black matted dagger drawn, and was tossing it relentlessly in one hand, waiting impatiently for a response.

“I…um…nothing. I was just…er…leaving!” He said quickly, hesitantly, and tried to turn to leave. More of the dastardly troupe were blocking the other side of the alley, though, and left no room for his departure. Neither were they seeming ready to move aside for a kid half their size.

“Sure, nothing. So, ya be thinkin’ it was nothin’ when ya started thieving in our turf? Huh, boy?” The thug leader violently snatched his dagger out of the air and aimed it at Shard’s face. With a scowl of intent, he watched the child stand there, unmoving, before relenting and chuckling. His followers grinned and nodded, a few laughing silently, not sure of their leader’s intent. Not the wisest of groups. Sheathing the blade, he reached out and grabbed Shard around the shoulder with one arm, feigning camaraderie. With a supposedly wise smile on his face, he gave shard the usual lecture, “Kid, I will make you a deal. If you prove that you’re a good thief, and steal something for me, then I will let you do whatever you want in our turf. All you have to do is go to the Bazaar and steal Victoria’s Bell from the Titan’s Forge Blacksmith. It is a trinket, not of much value, but the smith has a watchful eye and I have had a wanting eye on that treasure for a while. What do you say?” Letting go of Shard, the thug grinned and waited, impatiently again, for a response.

“I don’t want to go to jail…all I take is food so I can stay alive, nothing big like that. Sorry, I can’t.”

The thug stared at him for a while, then shrugged and smiled again. Nodding, he spoke up once more, “Well, my name is Raven, you can ask around and mostly everyone around here will know where to find me. When you decide to take up my offer, I will be waiting. I like you, kid, so I will let you stick around for a while. Just, do me a favor, since you won’t steal, at least drop by the Titan’s Forge Blacksmith and make sure the bell is still there. Will ya?”

Shard thought over it for a moment, and saw no harm in it, so he nodded. The leader laughed happily, turned to his first mate and grinned, then led the boy out of the alley. Suddenly, he bent over and picked up the forgotten coin.

“Hey kid, you missed one. You never told me your name, neither.” He flicked the gold coin to Shard, who caught it skillfully. With an ignorant smile of the hopes of friendship, the boy whispered a name first, then spoke a different one aloud.

“You can call me Shard.”

The thug laughed at the name at first, then shrugged again with the same lazy, relaxed look on his face. After the kid ran away, he turned to his companion again and spoke shortly and quickly. The younger teen nodded, then cracked up laughing, watching the boy meld into the crowd. He signaled to a few of the more skilled among them and told them the plan, their reactions were similar, and the dark plotting commenced.

Innocent as ever, Shard continued to the Titan’s Forge Blacksmith. It was across town, so would take quite a bit of time to reach on foot. Having plenty of food for thought, he took an easy pace down the sidewalk of the street and stared at the brilliant midday sky. Maybe my luck is turning around. Now I have friends who will look out for me, and might even help me get by. Father had to be wrong, evil doesn’t always win; there are good people in this world. Just have to look in the right places, that’s all. Hmmm…I wonder if its going to rain.

His bliss led him, step by step, farther down the road of good intentions to the well-known destination.

{Utterly Closed. My accompaniment knows who he is.}

[Letho]

She smiled at him and in that smile he could see the rebirth of the world around them.

Myrhia and Letho didn’t hit a bump on the road of their relationship. No, what Letho’s betrayal in Serenti summoned on the road ahead was a goddamned brick wall that they struck head-on, too strong, too tall to be overcame. And as if that wasn’t enough, his lack of fidelity was bound to be a seal that would terminate their affection for eternity. He lost her back there, and she lost him, and they seemed to be drifting off in their own direction, too hurt to restart, too upset to rebuild, too uncertain to make the first step to recovery.

It was Myrhia that made that first step. It was Myrhia that walked into the final round of Serenti Invitational and saved the gloomy swordsman from the conflict that was bound to claim his life. But most importantly, it was Myrhia that decided that they could try again, that they could make a test run and see where it takes them. Letho was certain that he never saw a more selfless expression of benevolence then the one she did on that day. She walked over the fact that he cheated on her, pushed aside his treachery, and decided to do what Seth Dahlios told her to. Give Letho Ravenheart another chance. He decided to devote every day of his life to prove that bastard thief right; to prove that he was worth of her love.

Today they were making their weekly visit to the Radasanth Bazaar. The day was gracious towards them, allowing the summer sun to spill white gold all over the landscape and bring the heat up to the level a tad below unbearable. The sporadic clouds above looked like outcasts, exiles that the beauty of the day decided to banish from the bright azure dome. Below such sky, the streets were caught in an endless vibrant clamor, with the river of people somehow managing to keep moving in a thousand different directions, each following their own agenda. Vendors hid in the shades of their canopies, offering their good with promises as false as a wooden coin. “Genuine Serenti pearls! A sword that slain a dragon! Jewelry from the obscure wilderness of Fallien! Best damn carrots you’ll ever come across!” those and myriad more could be heard in the bustle of the street that seemed like an ant farm with no queen.

Myrhia stuck to Letho’s side as per usual, her slender hand wrapped around the crook of his arm, yanking him this way and that once she noticed something that caught her eye. And, truth be told, pretty much everything shiny and colorful captured her attention. He didn’t mind much. Because that was the Myrhia he knew before, the wide-eyed humble former slave that only now got a chance to live through the childhood she was robbed of. Clad in a short scarlet skirt that revealed much of her pale skinny legs and a short-sleeved shirt of the same color, she was like a fairy, her gingery feet making her hover through the crowd and to the next stand with a plethora of goods that – Letho knew that much already – she wouldn’t wind up buying in the end.

Not that they didn’t have the money. On the contrary, after all the escapades and ludicrous tasks, the pair managed to settle down in Willowtown with enough shinnies to make them the richest folk in the small town. That didn’t say a lot given the fact that Willowtown folk were mostly yahoos and farmers, but they were able to live rather leisurely. On top of that, Letho was still the official Marshal of that region and the land they had around their manor was bountiful. Suffice to say, the pair of adventurers sailed into calm waters with their coffers full and their future ensured.

“Oh, oh, let’s check that one over there.” she squealed, noticing the stand with silken scarves and hats. “Maybe I can get a hat just like yours.”

Though there was a shadow over his bearded face – courtesy of the cowboy hat that stood on his head – his smile was prominent, faking annoyance as he followed her through the sea of bodies. In his plain white shirt and casual black slacks, with rather unremarkable redhead at his flank, they seemed just another pair in the Radasanth Bazaar.

[Devil May Care]

�It all begins with ignorance and innocence, then slowly you tumble down into the bramble bush of sin. Pricked once and innocence is lost forever.�

Peeking around the corner with caution, Shard made his way towards the enormous entrance of the magnificent steel building. Seeming to be made entirely from metal, the Titan’s Forge Blacksmith was the queerest building the boy had ever seen. Giant beams jutted up into the sky, supporting the upper levels that were separated from the lower level by an empty gap filled only by random staircases. In the center of the building, a massive clay cylinder ran the entire height of the building, white steam rolling out of the top. At random point there were holes in the container, revealing stores of coals and what appeared to be crystals containing lava and shimmering with heat. The furnace radiated from the sheer energy that poured from those spouts, muscle-bound blacksmiths hammering away at various works before shoving them into the ovens once more. In contradiction to this center of heat, an aqueduct encircled most of the building, various pipes bringing crystal clear ice-cold water to various workstations. A hole in the bottom of each cooling bucket poured the water into a fountain on the ground level, which was magically cooled again and sent back up the aqueduct by unseen forces. ’They weren’t joking when they said it was a “Titan’s� forge! This place is huge!’

The entire construction awed the young boy, who quietly opened the front door to the customer lounge and began looking around. Various golden-rimmed cases sat, surrounded by crystal, displaying the best works the forge had created. Embellished onto the bottom rim of each container was a title depicting the name of the object therein. The youngster figured one of those cases would contain ‘Victoria’s Bell’ and began a routine search of the shop to spot one that contained anything resembling a bell. After circling the comfortably heated lobby once with little luck, Shard considered that just maybe the ‘bell’ wasn’t a bell at all. This thought initiated a slow search, reading each and every inscription before moving on to the next case. With the many cases that dotted the display room, the method was expending quite a good length of time.

What felt like hours later, the boy came to a case embellished with “Victoria’s Bell� on the miniscule crest. While suppressing a yelp of triumph, his eyes darted upwards to get a look at what the bell looked like. The shock hit him in his face, an audible gasp slipping through his lips. A small impression on the red pillow in the case showed where the bell…should have been. Yet, there was nothing in the case! Turning, he looked at the shopkeeper who currently was gazing through a magazine, unaware of the child and his meanderings. Wide-eyed and afraid, Shard made his way cautiously to the door, afraid of being nearby when the shopkeeper found the bell missing. Before he even got halfway across the room he felt a whisper in his ear and leapt in freight, turning to its source. To find nothing, except a side exit probably leading out to an alley. ’Must be my nerves. Why did Raven send me here if he had already stolen the bell? It makes no sense…something is wrong.’ After taking a breather, he continued on his slow and nerve-racking trek to the front door.

In the moment before freedom, Shard stepped back as the door burst open to reveal a familiar black-leather clad figure. ’Raven!’ Flanking him weren’t his regular lackeys, but instead an entourage of armored town guards. The closest of the guards grabbed Raven on the shoulder, saw his triumphant scowl, and asked him harshly, “Is that the kid?� Raven took a step forward, then turned to the guards and announced, with overkill on drama, “Yes, that is the boy that stole Victoria’s Bell!� With a cackle, the thug turned and watched in sadistic glee the scene unfolding.

But…the guards and Raven alike took a moment to catch on that there was not, in fact, any boy before them. He was making a mad dash for the side door that they hadn’t accounted for.

“Get that kid! Don’t kill him yet; we need him to find the Bell! Go, you idiots!�


~ Five blocks and a few minutes away, near the center of the Radasanth Bazaar… ~

A helpless Shard burst through the crowd, weaving in and out of the people. It was noon and the crowd was thinning, mostly everyone still off eating lunch at fancy restaurants but the thin crowd was still enough of an impediment for the small boy that the guards on his tail were slowly catching up. Up ahead, another random couple was overlooking the expensive wears of a merchant and he dashed for them, hoping to hide behind them and possibly lose the guards in the crowd.

A white flash of light burst into Shard’s eyes, followed by searing pain tracing down the back of his neck and exploding across his head. The effect dizzied him, and then finally brought him to the ground. Teetering on the edge of consciousness, he saw his limp body roll past that couple, a bloody stone that had been the instrument of his felling rolling to a halt next to him. A distant shout of victory was followed by the clattering of plate mail gaiters as the guards approached, panting from the effort. The boy knew better then to have hope at a time like this, though he was innocent, they wouldn’t even question a street rat like him.

�Guilty until proven innocent.�

The words of his father rung his head as he lay in recoil from the hit…

�Good, my boy, is a façade; evil always triumphs, remember that. There are no fairy-tale knights in existence anymore, they all died out. Evil reigns this world, child.�

[Letho]

“I think I like this one. What do you think, grumpy?” Myrhia asked in her chipper voice, her small hands picking up a hat made out of yellow straw and placing it on her head. Letho thought it would end up being too big for her, but once she tried it on, it seemed to be a perfect fit. She pulled it low, the way he always did when he was in his brooding mood, and gave him a falsely strict look below the brim, with her lips completing the pouting expression. The merchant – a dry looking stick-figure with a keen set of ancient azure eyes and wrinkly long-fingered hands – watched over them with a professional trained smile.

“Well, if you grow a beard and start chewing tobacco, you could pass off as a genuine cowboy. Well, cowgirl.” Letho replied and she struck his bulky chest playfully, innocently, unable to suppress a smile.

“Shut up! I’m serious. I think it goes well with this scarf that could cover my tattoo.” she spoke, picking up a yellow piece of cloth that seemed lighter then a feather, translucent enough for him to see the contour of her eyes as she brought it to her face. It was almost unbelievably smooth as it brushed against her cheek, like a materialized brush of a soothing breeze.

“I think you shouldn’t cover it at all. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” he replied, his voice achieving that peculiar rough gentleness that was reserved only for her.

Myrhia closed her eyes for just a moment, enjoying the softness of the fabric. Less then a year ago the highpoint in her life was a glance she received from a slave boy that was in the same accursed position as she was; shackled and sold for a handful of coins. Back then she didn’t even dare to dream about life such as the one she had with Letho, didn’t dare because it hurt too much to mull on the things she could never have. The tattoo at the base of her neck – black as night, weaving around her smooth neck like a vile thorny weed – always made her replay those moments in Scara Brae, the stale dampness of the mattress against which they pushed her head while they ravaged her body. And it always seemed to happen at the moment her mirth piqued. Ghosts of the past seemed to have a bad sense of timing.

“It’s made by the elven virgins, that scarf is.” the old geezer on the other side of the stand spoke, breaking her moment of doleful recollection. “It takes them weeks to complete just one of those, working with those fair hands of theirs.”

Letho knew that the chances for this story to be true were slim at best. He never heard of these elven maidens and even if there were some, they wouldn’t be selling their meticulously woven wares at such a low price. But this was the Bazaar and people liked to sell a little bit of vapor with their merchandise. If you didn’t keep your eyes open, you wound up purchasing a shield that “absolutely protects from all forms of fire” that for some mysterious reason winds up as a heap of ash if you cast it into the campfire. But falsification was not the reason why Myrhia placed the scarf back on the stand, but rather the connotations that it brought at this very moment. And she didn’t need a piece of apparel that would constantly remind her of something she tried to forget all about.

“Just the hat, kind sir.” she spoke silently and bowing her head. Letho counted the appropriate amount (that somehow seemed a bit steep as well for a straw hat) and placed it in the shaky hand of the vendor. But before they managed to conclude the deal with the usual thank you-farewell antics, the constant monotonous commotion around them was shattered by the frantic pitter-patter of feet. Letho’s head snapped sideways just in time to see a rather unsightly tyke taking a stone to the back of his head and crumbling to the cobblestone floor from the impact. Unkempt tousled red hair covered most of the boy’s face, disabling the Marshal to see his face, but by the lack of motion from the fallen body made it clear that there had to be a painful grimace on it. A pair of guards – low-ranked nobodies with badly maintained swords and stained uniforms – closed in, grinning with malicious satisfaction. Myrhia didn’t even notice them. She was already on her knees beside the boy, trying to turn him over and see...

“Are you alright?” she asked, her visible emerald eyes looking down benevolently, concernedly.

“Stay away from him, wench! That little rascal is a thief!” one of the guards spoke, pulling out his sword sloppily and continuing his advance. He made the first step. On the second one a steely hand grabbed him by the shoulder and stopped him in his track.

“Easy does it, boy. Put that away before you poke your eye out. Now tell me, what’s going on here?” Letho spoke, his incisive eyes – War Eyes Myrhia liked to call them – sharp enough to split the man’s skull like a melon. The guard flinched, jerked his shoulder away and got into the Marshal’s face.

“Move away, peasant. Who the hell are you to ask questions around here, huh?”

His breath smelled like ashtray, his brown eyes faking calmness as he waited for the response. Letho merely reached into his pocket and provided his ranger badge.

“The law.”

“Not around here you ain’t, ranger. Now stand aside. This boy stole “Victoria’s Bell” from the Titan’s Forge and his skinny ass is gonna hang for it!” the guard continued his rant, then made a move to shove past Letho. He found out it was like trying to push away a mountain.

“You have evidence of this?” a question, spoken in a patient, unmoving tone.

“We’re not nitwits. Of course we do. We have an eye witness.”

“Of the actual crime?” Letho asked. The crowd around them now started to pay heed to the event unraveling, forming a circle filled with whispers and inquiring eyes. These kinds of things were a show for the people, some desiring to see a hanging, some (very few) genuinely sympathetic, and most just standing there because they had nothing better to do.

“Well... no. Not really. But we have a confession from one of his buddies.” the unremarkable guard was starting to feel uneasy now, not coping well with the auditorium that suddenly formed around them.

“I see. A confession from a fellow thief. Then it must be true.” the Marshal spoke, managing to get a chuckle or two from the audience. “Did you find this bell in his possession?”

“No, we didn’t have a chance to frisk him.”

“Myri?” he said to the redhead with a nod. Her hands passed over the boy’s body, inspecting the pockets, the insides of his shirt, before she shook her head. “There you have it. With no bell and a flimsy confession, you’re not getting this one on the gallows. Now scram!”

The guard’s brow furrowed, his posture defiant as he refused to move away, but all his attempts to intimidate the husky swordsman shattered like water on rock. It was like trying to kid a kidder, only in this instance the mater was everything but jovial. Letho hated the superficial way the Corone Armed Forces worked, fast to sweep the dirt underneath the carpet as long as their face is clean. Not all, but that was a general consensus. It was, after all, easier to be sloppy then to do things right. The second of the two guards saw that there was no point in arguing any more, pulling his companion away from the Marshal. With them gone, there was nothing interested to see – no blood spilled and no punches flying – so most of the people dispersed and went about their business. Letho returned to the Myrhia and the boy that lay on the stone road, hunkering down and surveying the lad’s face.

“This is the part where you tell me what really happened, boy.”

[Devil May Care]

”Are you alright?” The heavenly voice pierced the darkness encompassing on Shard’s mind, a hand of light lifting his consciousness to the surface. As if breaching the threshold of a fortress, the boy fought his way back into his own mind, a single thought driving him. ”Is it her? Can it really be her? Her voice…her touch…please…Oh please have the Thaynes let it be true!” The pain was pushed from his mind, a fierce urge to know pushing forth and driving him up. Finally, it broke, and his eyes opened. Their blurred vision settled on her face, an angelic halo of light surrounding her, flaming hair framing her serene face. His eyes widening uncontrollably, tears blurred his vision further as he tried to speak, but found himself unable. Movement, even fractional, was a struggle and every attempt brought new waves of pain. Shard’s will overcame his condition and he whispered the name he so desperately wanted to be hers…

”M…Maie?”

Closing his eyes, Shard rested a moment then opened them again, having a dim impression of what just occurred. The pain was dulling enough for him to move, and he struggled to sit up, one hand holding his head. Instantly he felt blood and another pang of pain, but knew he had to still the bleeding else he would lose strength rapidly. If he was to run again, then it would be important to have every ounce of endurance he could spare. Right now, though, he hoped that this man was nicer then Raven had been, at least, more truthful. Raven! He set me up! They stole the bell, then told me to go there so that he could blame it on me. But why? Why all of this just to get me arrested, and possibly executed? There is something more to this, there has to be. After a few coughs to clear his throat, he looked back at the lady that was treating him and felt his heart drop. Though a redhead, she was not Maie. Sighing deeply, he turned to listen to the end of the conversation the large man was having with the rude guards and waited.

It ended briefly, and now it was his turn to talk. Taking his hand away from the back of his head, feeling somewhat more settled, Shard looked at the rock for a moment then stared up into the man’s eyes. They weren’t exactly the most compassionate or empathetic of eyes, and caused a sternness to rise in the boy’s throat. Gulping audibly, he wiped a red lock out of his hair and tried to keep his gaze, but not challenge it. Honest came from peaceful eyes, and truth can be better ascertained when one’s visage was open to scrutiny. Shard had ever intention of being proven innocent, and thus kept his countenance clean of anything except innocence. With a deep breath, he began to tell what he knew, in very abridged summary.

“A friend…no…he isn’t a friend…a thief tricked me, Sir. He tried to get me to steal the bell, Sir, but I refused, so he told me to scout out the shop instead. Since there was more, I decided to go and maybe warn the shopkeeper about them, but when I got there the bell was already gone. I…I swear, Sir, I didn’t steal it. I would never steal anything of importance, Sir. I was on my way out when Raven arrived with those guards and told them I was the thief, Sir. If it wouldn’t trouble you to hear the opinion of a peasant, Sir, I think it was Raven and his gang that took the bell. I have no evidence of this, though, except that they were plotting to take it, Sir. I think Raven wanted it for something, I don’t know what. He didn’t tell me much, Sir. Please, Sir, don’t give me to the guards. They might send me…no…they wouldn’t…but they might hang me! Please, Sir, please don’t give me to them. I promise I didn’t do anything wrong and I won’t do anything wrong.”

Almost in tears at the end, realizing the possibility that this man, also, was as cruel as those guards. Finally he dropped his head, giving in and feeling inside that all hope was lost. He would be sent to the jail and executed for a crime he had never committed. Petty thievery of fruit and a few gold pieces here or there wouldn’t account such a punishment, and though he felt guilty for that he didn’t want to die for it. Sobbing as quietly as he could manage, unable to stifle the tears, he braced himself for the bad news as his father’s word rung in his head…

’All the knights are gone…all that is left is evil.’

[Letho]

In many aspects, Myrhia was as far from being well-endowed as Letho was from being weak. Her bosom was barely noticeable, her figure was everything but curvy and voluptuous, her battle prowess was mediocre at best and her wits still wrestled with writing some of the more complicated words. All of this often made her dubious, made her reiterate the question: Why did Letho wanted her around in the first place? He was a knight, a former prince for gods’ sakes. Once upon a time, lasses like her weren’t allowed to make his bed, let alone be his friend, his lover. But whenever she would dig up that old question and ask him with those angelic doe eyes falling to her restless feet, he would always give her the same answer. It was because she was the most beautiful girl. And because she was the sweetest girl. Because in that willowy figure there was a heart bigger then the world. And that always made her cry and hug him tightly.

The nipper that sat on the ground with a lump growing on the back of his head wasn’t spared of this sweetness as she knelt at his side, her hands offering support to his back. Myrhia listened to him with a sympathetic smile, her eyes vivid with compassion and understanding. She knew quite well what it was like to be twelve and kicked around like a rusty can, what it was like to get a knuckle sandwich for dinner, what it was like to be nothing more then mud on somebody’s boot. So she listened and hoped that at the end of it there would be something she could do to help the young lad.

What Myrhia had in ample supply, giving it out freely and innocently, Letho had just enough to listen to the frantic rambling of the terrified youth. Because everybody had a sad story nowadays. Turn around every corner of not just Radasanth, but pretty much every town in Corone, and you are bound to step into at least a dozen of anguish-packed stories that divulged just how twisted the world was. And, sadly, that was a fact of life. You couldn’t change the world any more then you could change a mountain from being a mountain. Myrhia usually retorted to such caustic thinking, saying that maybe you can’t fix the world, but you can try, but not everybody had the desire to charge against those windmills like she did. In this instance the story was simple. The kid was a thief and his fellow thief set him up and it seemed like a common case of what happens when you screw with the bull.

Letho’s bad knee was imploring him to get up from the squatted position. At twenty-five years of age, he shouldn’t have had a bad knee, but at twenty-five years of age he shouldn’t have participated in about a thousand and one battle and have a thousand and one scar on his body. But he did and when he rose, his knee gave out a silent crackling sound it always did. It didn’t hurt yet, but he knew that it would in ten years or so. The sound, together with the great number of sirs that the fallen tyke used in his disposition, made him feel older then he really was.

“What do you think, Myrhia?” he finally asked the redhead, folding his hands over his muscular chest and looking down from beneath his cowboy hat. It was a rather trivial question; he knew quite well what she would say, the only thing she could say in situations such as this one. Still, he wanted to hear her say it, just to clarify what he already decided in his mind.

“I think it’s not a crime to be suckered into something.” she replied, looking up at Letho and knowing this was one of the lessons he tried to teach her. With Letho it seemed that no moment was too awkward for teaching and today it was all about judging and estimating. “And maybe somebody should bust this Raven. He seems like the one responsible.” she added, then return her kind eyes on the red-haired boy.

“Fair enough. I’ll send a message to Leeahn, He’ll get some of his men to flush out this rat. And as for you...” Letho paused and looked down at the boy with the same solid, seemingly emotionless gaze. “We can’t let you prowl the streets. I know an orphanage where they’ll treat you fairly if you don’t cause any ruckus. Come on.”

Myrhia didn’t like this idea a whole lot, but she helped the boy up gently, dusting off his back and offering a genuine courteous smile. There was little that could move that intimidating set-in-stone look in Letho’s brown eyes and even she had trouble getting a rise out of him sometimes. Especially if there was a serious issue at hand. And yet, the idea of an orphanage stood in her gut like a piece of bad fish. Those places were never nice, no matter how fair they treat you, and most took the spare the rod-spoil the child a little too literally. Still, for now, she decided to suppress her doubts.

“What’s your name?” she asked, her voice regaining a fragment of her usual mirth as they started to make their way down the street. “I’m Myrhia and that’s Letho. He gets up on the wrong side of the bed... like every day.” the redhead added with a wink. Letho didn’t seem to pay too much heed to her jesting. But deep inside, no matter how much he denied it or was afraid to admit it, her little outbursts of joy were always making his day.

[Devil May Care]

~ Somewhere underground… ~

“But…Raven, we can’t just let the kid get away! You know we can’t! The boy is too important to let leave like this, and he would have our heads! RAVEN! LISTEN TO ME!”

The words were lost to his ears however as Raven sat on his throne-like chair surrounded by hordes of stolen goods. As Obsidian, Raven’s “right hand” groaned and whined about their situation, the leader was thrust in contemplation. Just moments ago he had been watching from a rooftop as the procession passed by, his joyous shouts at Shard being hit cut short by that man’s interruption. His furrowing brow deepened as he remembered that face, knowing it well. It was Letho Ravenheart, -accompanied by some girl he didn’t know, probably a wench- the fearsome general that had won battles by both genius and stern strength. Though he had confidence in his abilities, Raven was not sure that he and his group could take on Letho, even alone, and survive.

Finally, he opened his ears to Obsidians pleas and held up a hand, silencing the squabbling man. With a stern look, Raven spoke slowly and as clearly as he could, “We will leave the boy alone for now. He is not worth risking the anger of a Ranger. However, tomorrow night whilst the boy is in the orphanage we will attack. Prepare the rest, and be sure they are all ready. Also, bring Lucia in and make sure that be brings it.” After, he snapped his wrist and nodded, dismissing the man. After a grumble, he moved off and gave orders to rouse the others to a nearby guard. As calls rang throughout the halls of the abyssal underground hideout, a black-garbed woman was fetched and told to report to the lord.


~ Radasanth; On Route to the Orphanage ~

“Thank you, for helping me. My name is Shard.” Shard said, timidly, and flashed an innocent smile at Myrhia. She wasn’t Maie, but she was just as kind. In fact, the kindness they had shown him so far was somewhat odd. Letho expressed a stern emotionless gaze that Myrhia countered with a soothing touch and soft voice. Both sides of the coin were confronting him at once and he was confused, for they seemed to be a couple. How could two people be so different yet love each other? It didn’t seem likely, but he had worse subjects to worry about.

An orphanage…if I get stuck in an orphanage then they will research me and find out what my real name is…they might even send me back to him. This isn’t good.

However, he felt as if there was nothing he could do. Watching the people pass by, who gave him odd looks for the strange mix that was occurring. Just then he realized that Myrhia and Letho were clean and fresh whilst he was musty, scraggled and quite dirty. Lowering his eyes, he knew why the people were giving him odd looks. In their hearts, they were asking themselves why such a filthy boy would dare be in the company of grand people. A question he had to ask himself as well. It wouldn’t be for long, not long at all. Then, shortly after they dropped him off at the orphanage, he would be sent home and never see these lovely people again. Shard didn’t want it to happen that way, but again, there was nothing he could change. That gaze of Letho’s was the eyes of a golem, unchanging, unchangeable, emotionless. Though he tried to hide it as he walked behind them, a tear rolled down his cheek. His fate was decided, and the prophets above had turned their backs on him.

After four years…I had thought I was free. Its all going to end now, because of one stupid mistake. All because of a few gold coins.

[Letho]

Letho paid little heed to the boy once he signed and sealed the decision in his head to take him to an orphanage. He was relatively certain that Shard had enough wits to realize that fleeing would only nullify his disposition from moments before and consequently get him into even more trouble. On the other hand, if he cleaned up his act and obeyed the people in charge, he had a good chance at not dying a young man. Long story short, he was giving the lad an opportunity to grow up into something other then a petty knave that lived out of stickiness of the fingers and wound up dead by the age of twenty-five. That seemed enough for the Marshal to wash his hands from the whole matter.

Myrhia, unsurprisingly, disagreed. Orphanages were no joyrides and oftentimes they did a better job at corrupting the youth then setting them back on the proper path. She remembered that several years ago, when her mother was on her deathbed and her father was out with some harlots again, drinking away what little money they had, her greatest fear was that she would be turned over to one of the Scara Brae orphanages. Back then such places were the cesspool of the unwanted and troublesome, and even if you weren’t the latter when you got there, chances were you would be by year’s end. Unfortunately, she soon realized that there was something worse then being an orphan. If being an orphan was no joyride, being a slave was a ride straight through the lowest pits of hell. That was why she could sympathize with Shard, and that’s why she didn’t like this idea at all.

“Shard, huh? That’s certainly an interesting name.” Myrhia spoke, setting her eyes on the boy again and offering a mild smile that seemed always present. Letho knew that it wasn’t always on, but it was pretty damn close. And whenever he asked her why she smiled so much she would tell him that somebody had to balance out the world and offset his acute frowns. Sometimes she smiled out of courtesy, sometimes because she was genuinely invigorated by the world around her, sometimes because it was the only defensive mechanism she had. Today it was probably a little bit of everything as she looked at the rather unclean boy that, though significantly younger, was already as tall as she was.

“I’m bet that when you wash your face and comb your hair, the girls just come running after you.” she added with a wink as they walked through the steady stream of bodies that all seemed to be following their own charted paths, and yet never (or seldom) crashing into each other. It was the conversation that was supposed to get Myrhia’s thoughts away from the disconcerting idea of seeing Shard in one of those dour buildings where your only reward for job well done was an extra meal and where the punishments were plentiful. But the more she looked at the red-haired youngster, the more she was certain that an orphanage is not a place where he should spend the best years of his childhood. Such places more often break then make a person and she just had a feeling – a hunch somewhere deep inside her bowels – that Shard had a lot more potential then an orphanage could extract from him.

Once the Pale Rose orphanage appeared before them - situated on the vaguely discernable line between the Bazaar district of the Radasanth and the ever-infamous Slums – the hunch became a much more tangible emotion. The manor that stood before them seemed to be in a good shape, but the gray hue of its walls and the iron fence that surrounded the lifeless courtyard seemed like something from a horror story. And they never had happy endings. She had to intervene.

“Well, here we are. It doesn’t look like much, but the...” Letho spoke as they stopped before the gate, but Myrhia interrupted him and tugged on his sleeve.

“Letho, wait. I... I don’t think this is a nice place.” she said in a mousy, uncertain voice, looking up at him as her smile faded away. “I don’t think it would do him good.”

“It’s better then living on the street. It’s better then ending up on the gallows, as thieves often do. If he behaves and stays out of trouble, he would have a chance...” he spoke in a relentless, cold voice that irked her with its indifference and she had to interrupt him again. This time he frowned at her, but her tone still remained benevolent and soft.

“A chance at what, Letho? He would end up on the streets sooner or later and you know it. You don’t have to search for trouble in such places because it finds you.”

Letho didn’t retort immediately, but rather looked down towards her, towards that sympathetic face and the eyes that seemed to be welling with tears. “Damnit, Myri!” he thought. [I] “Why do you care so damn much about some runt we met on the street?”

“What would you have me do then? Just let him go?” Letho asked, but somehow he knew that was not the case. There was something cooking beyond those emerald eyes and he wasn’t certain if he liked what it was.

“No.” Myrhia replied, her voice tiny and coy, her eyes dropping to his chest. “I thought maybe... maybe we could let him stay with us.” she added, almost fearfully, before spoke again with more zest. “Only for a short while. You always complain how you need some help around the house.”

Letho wasn’t surprised. He learned to expect such outbursts from the willowy redhead, so he calmly waited for her to finish before bowing gently, nearing his lips to her ear. “He’s a thief, Myri. Do you want a thief in our home?” he whispered, but before he got a chance to move away her small scrawny hands pushed him away.

“He’s also a human being, Letho!” she elevated her voice, her fair face now marred with a frown as fire burned in her eyes. A passerby or two turned their heads towards the pair, but nobody wanted to get involved into domestic arguments.

“You can’t save everybody, Myri.”

“But you can try.” she gave him the usual riposte.

“And you can die trying.” He was pretty certain this would leave her speechless. It didn’t.

“And it wouldn’t be a wasted life. A man that saved me in Scara Brae thought so as well.”

It was a goddamn ace from her sleeve and it blindsided him, striking like a mallet. He opened his mouth, but no comeback came to mind. Those emerald eyes erased every possible reply effortlessly, bending his will until it coincided with is own. The end result was rather predictable. Letho sighed and rolled his eyes and Myrhia smiled widely at his forfeit, propping herself on her tippy-toes and giving him a playful kiss. “Thank you.”

She turned away from him and looked towards Shard who must’ve felt like caught in crossfire. “So what do you say, Shard? Do you want to come with us? Willowtown is not Radasanth, but it’s a quaint serene little place a bit south from here. And don’t you mind the grump here. He usually acts as if somebody took the jelly out of his donut.”

Letho had a phlegmatic expression on his face, the kind that said: “I know I’m going to regret this.”

[Devil May Care]

Shard’s head was bouncing back and forth, following the conversation with acute listening skills. To him, it was going downhill, and Letho was slowly winning the demoralizing battle against Myrhia. She might buckle, but she seemed pretty determined. In truth, he wasn’t sure which side he was rooting for yet, and could do nothing but watch as two people argued over his future. It seemed pretty unfair that they were making a life changing decision for him, but maybe it would turn out good in the end. Maybe.

Then it ended; Myrhia had bested Letho with the love they shared. Their connection was much deeper then the boy had ever imagined at first, something he didn’t really understand in his youth. Taking it for granted, as young often do, he perked up a bit and smiled a little bit as the lady turned to him and posed the question.

Go…with them? To live with them…A slave? No…she wouldn’t argue out of an orphanage to trade up to slavery. What then? What do they want from me?

His father’s words suddenly burst into his head, filling his mind with the gravity of the situation. Questions bundled up as he stared at Myrhia, watching he anxious face, bundled with joy, wait patiently for the answer she felt she was assured to receive. But, deep inside, the voices were rising. Knights didn’t exist, goodness didn’t exist, and generosity didn’t exist. It was avarice, wrath, envy, and lust that drove people to put up such pretenses. What did they want with him? What would they do with him whenever he was locked away in their home? Away from Radasanth, far from anyplace he understands, and completely helpless. The Knight’s are dead, only evil is left. Only evil.

Raising his face, Shard’s countenance hardened, as he put on a tone similar to Letho’s; heartless. With one simple word, the air seemed to still for a moment, forces driving hearts up, then brutally dropping them and crushing them. With one word, he decided his fate, for better or worse, and prayed it was the right decision. His father had been right all along, the knights didn’t exist anymore, and these people were just looking for a slave. The boy refused to be a little worker boy for some random people; he wanted to be free on the streets. He wanted to be away from evil, however long he can escape it.

“No.”

Myrhia’s mind didn’t register it yet, and she instantly leaped into a joyous statement, “Great! I am glad you accep…what? No?” The joy and anxiety drained from her face, replaced by confusion and a tinge of sorrow. After all this work to convince the mountain to budge, the boy wouldn’t even take the offer. An offer of freedom from the hell hold he would be put in, simply refused. Uncertain as to his means, she posed a simple question, “Why?”

Something deep inside Shard triggered with that word, with her expression, her tone, her very aura. Something snapped, a culminating collection of influences by various inputs. The nightly speeches of his father, the beauty he has seen in this world to spite it, and the pure virtue he saw in Myrhia. Innocence was a rare thing in this world, and even an innocent boy such as Shard knew that. Precious though it was, when it was found it was a shocking experience. Right now, he stared into the face of unveiled virtue. She…actually cares?

It was unacceptable, it simply didn’t fit; why would anyone care for a street rat like him. They knew he stole, at least some; nobody lived in Radasanth without stealing in some way. It was a city based on corrupt politics, from the lowest level with pickpockets to the highest branch showing monopolist greed-addicted merchants. Common sense dictated that he was corrupted as that city, however Myrhia cut through all that and still cared. She had some vain hope that she could save this boy, if just this one boy, from that evil that devours the morals of a man and leaves nothing but a shriveled soul. This, Shard could not accept.

How can he be wrong? Father…is wrong? Why don’t I doubt him now, when I have doubted him so much in the past? Is it so easy to give up that I can’t be brave enough to take generosity? I like her, and what she offers, but I can’t be sure it isn’t a trick.

Finally, unable to answer her question, he dropped his eyes and stood there, contemplating. Already his foolproof explanation that evil reigned in fate was showing thin, holes being poked in it. An expression of concern was bringing down all the fortresses that had been built in his mind for so long. With a spark of hope left in that rubble, Shard finally raised his head and changed his decision.

“I…don’t know. I don’t know why I said no. I mean…I want to…I…should…why not? Yes. I will go.”

Myrhia’s glee was well worth the risk.

[Letho]

Letho always had a strong dislike towards the ungrateful people. In all his wanderings prior to settling down with Myrhia he met a significant number of the ignorant and proud that rather fell into the abyss with their heads up, then lowered them and see the helping hand. Whether or not this was Shard’s issue with Myrhia’s offering was irrelevant because the rejection was the same slap in the face that for some reason made you actually feel guilty and embarrassed for going out on a limb. And though this time he wasn’t the one feeling the full extent of this failure, there was no doubt that Myrhia’s chirpy spirits were getting thwarted. And that ultimately made Shard drift even further away from Letho’s good side.

But before he could intervene and take the headstrong brat into the gloomy walls of Pale Rose orphanage, Shard had a rather abrupt change of heart. His voice was uncertain, stuttering as he looked at his feet instead into the inquisitive eyes of his discomfited savior. Letho wasn’t sure what to make out of this lack of resolute, his mind fluctuating between the genuine disarray that might’ve given the tyke cold feet and some sort of a calculated scheme hidden behind the boyish innocence. Myrhia, as per usual, had no such deep pondering on the matter, her radiant smile back in a flash once the red-haired runt spoke again. Because she wanted to save Shard... She needed to save Shard from being swallowed by the vile streets not to change the world, but to prove to Letho, to herself and to all those around her that the world couldn’t change her.

“It’s alright.” Myrhia said, looking at the boy with what she hoped was the most harmless visage she could procure. “I know it’s a bit abrupt, but I really really don’t like that place over there. We just want to help you. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

She concluded with another smile stretching her tiny lips, her hand picking up Shard’s gently before she started to make her way through the streets at a leisurely gait. Letho, though somewhat agitated by the we in her statement, decided it’s best to follow silently and let her deal with the redheaded rascal. If Myrhia’s innocent sympathy was right and the boy wasn’t just a petty knave, she’d be overjoyed and that was good. But if time proves that her altruistic benefaction was a wasted effort, it would be another harsh lesson that she would learn the hard way. Either way, something good was bound to present itself as the result of her little endeavor and that was enough of a reason for him to make peace with the facts.

The streets were still far from revitalized to their usual bustle as the trio walked in significantly different moods. Myrhia was her usual mirthful self, Shard seemed as enthusiastic about the whole ordeal as a convict that was being led to the gallows, and Letho followed wrapped in a shawl of his own thoughts that sometimes even Myrhia couldn’t decipher. With such contradicting emotions they put Bazaar bustle behind their backs and made their way to the rather sturdy looking wagon that was parked in front of a rather lofty inn called “Radasanth Oasis”. With three stories made out of sand-colored stone and rows of monotonous look-alike windows that almost looked like jail cell windows, the building wasn’t the grandest in the vicinity, but it was one of the few that provided a guarded lot where folk could leave their horses and wagons. For a couple of gold pieces, of course. Letho dealt with one of the guards with only a handful of exchanged words, giving the man a paper slip and a couple of coins before leading the way to the chestnut mare harnessed to a simple carriage.

“Here we are. Come on, Shard. We’ll sit in the back. Willowtown is due south from here and we’ll be there before sundown.” Myrhia spoke, her scrawny pale legs taking her up one of the large wheels and into the back of the wagon before she offered a helping hand to the boy. Once both were up, she took a seat on a flour sack that Letho and she purchased earlier today, along with a crate of bottled red wine, a small canvas sack filled with various spices that spread their scent so strongly, it nearly made her sneeze, and a couple of lengths of linen and silk that stood folded in a small chest in the corner. She wasn’t an exceptional seamstress, but she was pretty confident that she would be able to make something out of it, even if in the end all of it ended up being bed sheets.

“I hope you won’t miss Radasanth too much.” the red-haired lass started as Letho set the carriage in motion with a silent cluck and a minute slap of the reins. She remembered how she felt when she left Scara Brae, how despite all the horrible things that happened to her there, she still felt melancholic as her home island faded away into the distance. But since then she learned that home was where your heart was and he heart was eternally bound to Letho. She could only hope that whatever bound Shard to Corone capitol was weak enough for him to find a new home. “Were you born here? Or are you, like the two of us, just a passerby?”

Though he seemed completely uninterested in the chit-chat that Myrhia tried to start behind his back, Letho kept an attentive ear to what was spoken as he led the wagon down the cobblestone streets that got more vacant with each pace he placed between them and the city center. The fact that he yielded to Myrhia’s request and accepted this young thief in his home did nothing to douse his suspicions and superstition. Trust was a rare occurrence when it came to the swordsman, something reserved for the selected few that earned it with their demeanor, their acts. It was a long troublesome path and Shard barely set his foot on it.

***

The carriage rolled through the streets slow enough for Myrhia to enjoy the view of the surroundings that passed by them at a steady pace, but still fast enough to make her hair flutter from time to time, revealing her scarred cheek that she liked to cover with her hair. Their path didn’t lead directly south though, as Letho led the way to the closest garrison of the Corone Armed Forces. It was a rather neat looking bastion with sturdy wooden palisades and a pair of guards that stood leant on their spears, ready to call it a day. When the wagon came to a stop before them however, they sprung to life and corrected their posture.

“State your business, stranger!” one of them spoke after clearing his throat and reaffirming his footing in a feeble attempt to look more threatening then he really was. Letho would usually play a joke or two on these chintzy conscripts, but today he was not in a mood for jesting.

“I am Marshal Letho Ravenheart and I have a message for Leeahn Festian. It is imperative that he gets this message as soon as possible. Do you understand?” Letho spoke, showing his badge to the pair before putting it away. The guards looked at the badge, then at each other, and nodded. “Tell him that if he wants to find Victoria’s Bell, he should track down a man that goes by the street name of Raven.”

“Raven?” the second of the two spoke, a greenhorn with a messy blonde mop of a hair that stuck out of his plumed helmet. “Raven is a small-time crook from what I heard, has a posse...”

“I don’t care.” Letho interrupted him. “It’s Leeahn’s business, not mine. Just make sure he gets the message.”

Before either of the two managed to respond, the Marshal cracked the reins mildly on the horse’s back and started to put the magnificent town of Radasanth behind their backs.

[Devil May Care]

Inside him, it seemed a second voice told Shard that he was helping Myrhia more then she was helping him. Though he tried to ignore it, he couldn’t help but smile to think it was the first time he had truly helped anyone. The lovely lady probably took it as a sign of his happiness, and insurance that he felt he made the right decision. Even if it was nothing like that, the boy felt no reason to sadden Myrhia in any way with such facts. He was happy with himself yet, for after almost four years he would be escaping from the hold the dreadful Corone Capitol had held on him. The draw and lure of empty streets today was almost nonexistent as he walked with the two to their carriage. Everything, for once in his life that he could remember, felt like it fit in the right places.

After finding a moderately comfortable seat in the back of the large wheeled carriage, leaning against a wine barrel for support, Shard listened to what Myrhia had to say. Along with her short and to the point conversation, the sounds of nature that he seldom remembered when in the city came to him. It felt like an entirely new world that he was entering, leaving behind the scum and distress of his old life and being cleansed in a new kind of bustle. Instead of the corrupt politics and backhand work that was a daily chore to avoid in Radasanth, this action spoke of the delicate harmony and purity of nature.

Shard’s mind turned dark though, as he hesitated to answer any of Myrhia’s questions. Thoughts of people coming after him, dim memories that didn’t fully surface, and feelings that brooded behind walls in his mind; all of it he didn’t understand, but he knew that the intangible tension that had hung on him whilst he roamed the streets of Radasanth was brazenly lifted. No longer was he suspicious of every creaking noise, each dark shadow, or others. The boy found that he could sincerely relax, resting in the back of the bumpy caravan. Without wishing to make the generous Knight’s lass worried with his silence, Shard spoke with a calm serenity.

“Radasanth wasn’t my home, or at least I don’t think it was. I don’t remember much of anything about my real home, but I know that I had run away from something terrible and ended up in that city. There is a lot I don’t know yet, but I am glad that you, Myrhia, and you, Letho, are taking me from that place. Thank you…”

Finishing the speech with a smile that didn’t come from a cautious mind, but from an open heart, Shard sat back and turned his ears to the outside. Everything was calm, the world preparing for the night. Whispering behind the slowly dying ambiance his inner voice softly stated, ’Maybe this is paradise.’





- - - Somewhere Under Radasanth City - - -




Resting uncomfortably on his stone throne, the uncrowned leader of an almost unknown crime syndicate stared with disgust into a hand mirror. Every day he looked into that mirror and found a face staring back at him that he didn’t recognize. It will chilling, sending shivers up his spine; a cruel reminder of the price he paid for his destiny. Reaching to touch that grotesque countenance, he let out a long sigh as a cold wave cascaded down his nerves, calming everything. The mirror never did lie, but Raven knew that those whom saw him saw a young man, in the prime of his life, not the old, diseased fool that he had become.

Nobody would have understood that the price he paid was necessary, anyways. None of these greed-ridden mongrels could possibly understand that sometimes a rung on the ladder of power required a sacrifice to grasp. For Raven Morlock, it was his youth. Sixty years were stolen for him, for six months of power. In that time, which was soon coming to an end, he must find what his master sought else he would be torn asunder by this double-edged gift.

Broken from his reverie, Obsidian, once his best friend and now his second in command, rushed through the enormous onyx door. Not bothering to humor the formalities, the person that resembled nothing but a tiny boy almost leapt to the side of his lord. With a firm look, all illusions of innocence were swept away by the murderous and scheming severity that was held constant in the boy’s eyes. Raven was used to that gaze of stone, however, and it never did faze him anymore. Knowing Obsidian must have dire news, the thief lord nodded the boy on to spill the information.

“Raven, we have unwelcome guests.”

With a deep, dark chuckle, the man responded calmly, entirely sure of his position.

“Calm down, Obsidian. Tell Blue.”

Even at the mention of the name a tangible chill ran down the spine of the brave boy. Unable to speak, he simply nodded to Raven and turned, leaving. Speaking a few words to the guards, the man called upon some reinforcements and followed him to the gate. On route, Obsidian left the parade of brigades for a moment and turned down an unused, almost forbidden corridor. Knocking on the dark steel door at the end, the boy hesitantly put his palm on the icy cold metal and spoke up.

“R-Raven asks that you handle our guests tonight.”

Knowing there would be no answer, since there never was, Obsidian rushed off and joined the men at the gate. Barely able to keep calm, the men observed the procession of torch-bearing soldiers stomp down the incredibly wide sewage tunnel towards the little-known hideout. An unknown officer led the group of men; having been ignorant of the challenge he faced and only brought a handful of his least important. The mission had seemed to be an afterthought, nothing more; so little of an afterthought that they even laughed when they saw the rag-tag dozen of bandits that posed as protectors.

A soft ringing of bells echoed almost breathlessly through the chamber, long before the men were in range to throw the extra torches. Everyone stopped dead quiet, and the small crowd of bandits parted, making plenty of room for the white-clad lady that strode out into the dark tunnel. Though the only lights were the torches of the guards, she seemed to glow with an inner brilliance, illuminating her brazenly pure white gown, which resembled something a woman, might wear to a very expensive wedding. With a crystal fine white shawl covering her face and somehow hiding her features, the woman strode exactly between the two crowds and simply stood there. Without speaking, nor moving, the bandits suddenly began to walk inside. Their job was done, and they didn’t want to watch.

Obsidian, however, knew more about Blue then the rest did and was the first inside, running as fast as he could down the corridors and away from the scene that was to be displayed. The gate left open, one man did stay and watch, ignorant of what was to come.

Of course, a single woman standing guard of a hideout against even a loose band of soldiers seemed idiotic. Knowing this, the captain rashly laughed, the taint of worry edible in his voice, and ordered his men to attack. One brave boy with a torch ran forward, passing by the stationary woman and move to throw a torch. A guttural cry rolled from his lips before he slammed to the water, his hand still lingering in the air, severed cleanly from his body. Flowing in an arch to plop mercilessly in the disgusting waters further on, the boy tried to craw back to his fellows. Before even reaching the woman again, a splash of blood shot from his back and the frail body fell into two cloven halves.

Never to their eyes had the woman moved, though, and the other men began to back away. Raven’s orders had been to handle the guests, though, and they were not to leave knowing what little they saw. Moments after the first man ran, tiny shimmers of white light arched between them, bodies falling into neatly cut portions constantly until only a barrage of body parts remained. Not taking a moment to even consider her work, Blue turned and calmly strode without hesitation, like a drone, past the pale and speechless rogue and returned to her artic room.

Back in the throne room, Obsidian and Raven spoke of new plans. They no longer were sure that confronting the Ranger would be sure death, and now plotted deeper, darker. Blue was an asset, and they intended to use her.

[Letho]

It didn’t take a lot of incentive for Myrhia’s garrulity to emerge and Shard’s response – though rather reluctant – was more then enough to do the trick. While Letho was as accessible as a mountain peak, the redhead was always quick on the trigger when it came to palavers, regardless of the topic. Today it was about origins and she figured since Shard spoke of his own, she should return the favor.

“You’re most welcome, Shard.” she started, the smile inerasable on her face now and as warm as the sun. “I’m from Scara Brae, the island... uhm... east of here I think.”

“West.” Letho mumbled from the front, still uninterested but interjecting to correct her.

“Yes, that’s right. West. I always mix the sides.” she spoke, a bit embarrassed by such an absurd mistake. “Scara Brae is a nice place. A lot smaller then Corone, but very similar. I sometimes think that Corone is too big. Heck, Radasanth itself is big enough to make your head spin. If it weren’t for Letho, I think I’d get lost in all the streets and alleys and whatnot.”

It was the usual Myrhia’s yammering, something that the Marshal had to deal with on daily basis and something he learned to love. He was never a talkative man and she evened out that defect of his, always zealous to meet other people, converse with them, get to know them, befriend them, and all of that in a very rapid succession. He only asked her once of the reasons for this extroversion of hers and she gave him an answer that shut him up but good. She said that life was too short for sulking and weighing and measuring each person you meet. Naturally, he didn’t agree, but it was neither the first nor the last thing the pair disaccorded in. Hell, they couldn’t even agree on the wine; she liked the white wine, he was always in favor of the red one. And it was the compromise that bound them together even tighter, the compromise that made one accede to the will of the other and do so with a smile on his or hers face.

“Letho’s not from around here though.” she continued in somewhat of a hushed tone, as if she wanted to speak without the Marshal noticing it. He, of course, did, but he paid little heed to what she was about to disclose. Myrhia knew very well how touchy the subject of his homeland was and by now she knew the boundaries she wasn’t supposed to cross. “He’s from this very amazing kingdom called Savion way, way... west from here. The stories he told me about Savion...”

And as the carriage kept rolling, Myrhia kept talking, jumping from Scara Brae she lived in to Savion she knew only from Letho’s stories to Corone where they settled. She steered clear of the rough patches in the story, such as her slavery, Letho’s exile from Savion, the chivalrous rescue that he preformed to free her from the clutches of Carlton Mueler, her former slave master. Shard didn’t have to know any of this, not yet anyways. And besides, today was a merry day for all of them – except maybe Letho – and she didn’t want to mar its beauty with the sad stories.

***

They reached Willowtown just as the sun started to dip beyond the Comb Mountains in the northeast, firing up the sky and making what seemed like every possible hue of orange emerge on the formerly azure dome above their heads. Letho drove the carriage down a winding road that passed through almost-ripe crops of swaying wheat, green cornstalks that still had plenty of growing to do, orchards and groves that passed their spring blossom and slowly started to bear first fruit – most still unripe and sour. A bit to the east, a large willow forest stretched towards the main body of Concordia forest. In the dusking sun, the cultivated land seemed like a checkers board that the gods decided to paint with a wide variety of colors, ranging from golden yellow to dark green.

In the middle of this nature’s sanctum stood the picturesque Willowtown with its simple, one-storey houses and even simpler folk that liked to work on their crop in the morning and get some hard liquor in their bellies when the sun sunk below the horizon. Letho didn’t lead the wagon towards the town though. At the intersection just before entering Willowtown he took a left turn, taking them up a less traveled road. It led up a small hillock and eventually through a row of ancient willows that formed an arch above the road with their branches. At the end of this green tunnel stood the Willow Manor, Letho’s and Myrhia’s home.

“Come on. I’ll show you your room.” Myrhia didn’t lose time, taking Shard by the hand and jumping out of the wagon as soon as it came to a complete halt. During the entire course of their journey back to Willowtown, she deliberated on which room to give Shard and she was rather certain that she made the right decision in the end. The redhead scurried up on the porch with the lad in tow, unlocking the door and entering a rather simple looking lobby. There were no excessive ornaments plaguing the walls, no rich tapestries that always seemed tacky and over-the-top to Myrhia. She liked modest things, simple things, so the only thing that stood out in the lobby was a lush green rug that led to the two flights of stairs that led to the upper floors.

“This place is waaay too big for Letho and me, but we got it for cheap.” she spoke, now slowing her pace as she started to make her way to the first floor. Despite the lack of expensive decorations and lofty details, the house was kept spic-and-span and there was a faint scent of pine in the air. She passed the first floor, where hers and Letho’s bedroom was, and stopped on the second one that was also the last one. The first room in the left hallway (there were actually just two in that wing) was the one she intended for Shard.

She opened up the door to a spacious room dominated with a large bed made out of polished oak. The sheets were velvety purple and she wasn’t certain what Shard’s reaction would be to such a color, but since she couldn’t exactly foresee that she would be bringing a boy back from her visit to Radasanth so that little detail couldn’t be helped for the time being. “I’ll change the sheets tomorrow. I reckon you’re not too fond of purple.” she quickly said, hoping to ease the lad’s mind as she led him into the room. The rug on the floor wasn’t anything special - a simple red piece with some random pattern weaved into it. To the left of the bed was a large wardrobe whose doors creaked, but she’d get Letho to fix that tomorrow. There was also a small desk with a fitting chair, a pair of nightstands and a window that looked down on the willow forest.

“So...” she said, a bit nervous and biting into her lower lip as she always did when she was on her toes. “What do you think?”

[Devil May Care]

Shard listened to Myrhia; even though some would grow bored or disinterested in her tales, he genuinely enjoyed them. With a growing smile on his face, he listened as she recounted her past. It felt as if she was filling something in his life that he never had, a past. Before he arrived in Radasanth, lying on the beach like a cast aside log, the boy remembered nothing. Even when she spoke of stories of Savion, which were broken, obviously missing a few details, but he said nothing. He that that she cared for these stories and nourished them in her mind, giving them a place. For this, and for the slow love he was developing for this woman, he nourished the thoughts of such a home as well; a home that would be nice, welcoming, and comfortable.

Home… The boy tested the word, as if not even believing it at first as he stared at the mansion before him. In the seconds it took for Myrhia to let him stare, she suddenly rushed him inside. Trying to take in the beautiful yet modest insides before being pulled up the stairs, he gasped in relief when she finally stopped to push open a wooden door. Inside was a piece of simple magnificence, something he had never seen before. Though not rare, it was unusually welcoming. Even the silky purple that covered large portions of the room was soothing in regard to his previous habitations. As a home, it was more then he could have ever wished for.

“Myrhia, thank you. I have never seen such a beautiful house…or room…or town! It is all so much, really…wow!”

Unable to stifle the urge, Shard run in the room and leaped into the bed, landing on his back and bouncing. The softener burst out around him like violet wings of some great bird as he sighed, pushing his arms out wide and relaxing. Staring at the white ceiling, he smiled even deeper, knowing that here he would be welcome.

He was safe.

Shard had a family now, and he never wanted to let go of that.

Sitting up from his comfortable spot on the bed, he looked to Myrhia whom beemed at him with a satisfied smile, Shard thought for but a moment before interrupting her contemplation.

“Mind if I go outside and see the backyard?”

Without waiting for an answer, Shard laughed merrily and burst out the door, rushing down the stairs, and stopped suddenly. Seeing the warrior, he grinned then walked past him calmly, and once he thought he was out of sight he burst into a run again and out the door. Circling the mansion, the boy was panting by time he reached the massive orchard in the back. Resting against a tree, a perpetual youthful smile broad across his childish countenance, he forgot all his previous worries as he considered climbing a tree. Though the sun was almost fully under the horizon, he felt it quite enough light to climb his first tree.

Just as he reached up to grasp a branch, a sharp pain arched across his stomach and he lurched backwards, tumbling to the ground. Gasping from the searing pain as it spread, encompassing every nerve in his body, the boy stared as the dirt at his feet seemed to fall away into darkness. Instead of grass and a wide orchard, Shard’s eyes fell on a dark grove surrounded by twisted black trees. The soil was soaked with blood and littered by bones, and before him stood a figure that seemed to be woven of darkness. Long flowing hair blew behind him and enormous black wings stretched to either side. The dark stranger reached down a hand, and the boy did not know whether it was an offer or a demand, but the invitation was obvious. Barely about to raise his head from the pain, Shard managed to see the sky shortly before he blacked out again. Fire rained down from a crimson backdrop; unmistakably a visage of an end.

“Come with me, J-“


The voice was cut off as the vision burst from his vision, revealing a completely different man with more deliberate intentions before him. The raven black hair spoke his name and Shard could do nothing but scream at the top of his lungs. Raven grinned with sadistic pleasure before drawing a long, cruel black dagger from a sheath. The figure looked nothing like he used to, but now was covered in blood red plated armor with a long disturbingly red scarf flowing from around his neck. Shard’s eyes locked onto the scarf, feeling a deep connection with it, but he couldn’t move from his kneeling position to grab it.

“Scream all you want, even Letho can’t stop me now!”

[Letho]

Letho wasn’t terribly pleased with the fact that Myrhia and Shard ran off into the house, leaving him with the contents of the wagon and only two hands to unload it. True, most of it was too heavy for either the willowy redhead or her newly adopted son – “her” his mind insisted, not his – but the Corone Marshal was in a rather peculiar mood right now. Because Willow Manor was their little world, Myrhia’s and his, a sanctuary that was shaped to fit their lives, their desires. It was the calm that Letho needed after all the storms that his life weathered. And now there was this street urchin that walked right into it, disrupting the perfect equilibrium that they strived to achieve. He didn’t blame Myrhia, he didn’t even blame the boy. He simply wasn’t at terms with it. He was a creature of habit, somebody who had a determined ritual for most everyday occurrences and that was a machine that couldn’t handle a runaway cog that was Shard. In short, Letho simply disliked changes, for better or for worse, it didn’t matter because once he reached a certain level, he liked for things to remain unaltered.

So he unloaded the goods from their carriage with a thick frown, the kind that Myrhia recognized as the one that was supposed to mislead and make it seem like everything was right when it wasn’t. He put the folded cloth underneath one of his arms, placed crate with the rattling wine bottles on his shoulder and picked up a pair of canvas sacks with his right hand. From the second floor of the manor, an exclamation of gratitude came to his unsmiling face as he entered his home and dropped the smooth cloth that Myrhia bought on the cupboard. He then proceeded to deposit the remaining items in the cellar. Deciding to sort out the bottles and place them into the appropriate cupboard reserved for his bottled wine later, Letho made his way from the basement and back through the hallway and towards the wagon. He met Shard on the way, gave him one of the I’m-watching-you-boy looks, and proceeded out to the front porch.

***

Myrhianna Bastillien was so overjoyed that she felt like her chest was about to burst from the excitement. Those who didn’t know her would find this rather queer, maybe even over-the-top, but those that did, knew that this was an essential part of her demeanor. Because once not so long ago, Myrhia was nothing. She was a slave with a scar on her face and a nightmare of a life, with nothing, not even the clothes on her back, to her name. She was the lowest of the low, hitting the rock bottom every day of the week and twice on Sunday. She had nothing to lose and nothing to give, and it was the latter that ate her from the inside. In all her benevolence, she was never able to really help anyone.

And then Letho came into her life, introducing himself like a healing whirlwind that broke her shackles and introduced her to what life was supposed to be. But even now, when she tasted this entirely new world that hid just around the corner, Myrhia didn’t forget what it meant to be nothing. It was a hollow existence and she didn’t want for anybody to experience that. In a way, helping Shard was her way of mending her own past, painting over the ugly parts with the joy of a child, the joy she never had.

So when she saw the delight on the face of the red-haired lad, her heart reached that threshold after which tears usually followed. Letho was right, she was such a crier. She cried at everything, whether it was a moment of pure elation, sexual ecstasy or heartbreaking woe. So when Shard shot past her and darted towards the backyard, she first pushed the welled up tears from her emeralds and started to make her way after him with a satisfied smile on her face. Finally, she was able to give a helping hand to someone in the same way that Letho did and it seemed to fill her with white light. It was this light that was the reason why the Marshal allowed the boy to join them.

“Don’t eat any of the fruits, Shard.” Myrhia shouted after him, scurrying down the stairs and exiting through the already open backdoor that led towards the neat orchard that both Letho and she were proud of. “They’re still sour and will mess up your appetite for...”

She meant to say dinner, but even as she stepped out of the manor, her face went pale and the joyous light was gone from it. A shadowy, black-haired figure stood over Shard’s fallen body, reaching down towards the boy with one hand and holding a dagger in the other. There was a scream in the air and she wasn’t certain was it her own or Shard’s, but after it she screamed Letho’s name from the top of her lungs.

***

The terror of the scream and the dismay in Myrhia’s bellow tore any trace of sulking from Letho in an instant. The barrel of wine that stood on his shoulder was dropped onto the cobbles of the driveway and before the wood cracked and the crimson wine splashed over the gray stone, he was inside the house. Myrhia’s reinstated the plea for his presence, but he didn’t go directly for the backyard. Instead he fleetly made his way to the living room, picked up his gunblade from above the fireplace and a fistful of bullets from the nearby drawer, and then made his way to the origin of the ruckus. His fingers did the trained motion, loading the huge-caliber bullets into the impressive weapon as he walked hurriedly. By the time he burst through the door and stood besides Myrhia, his right moved the Winchester reloading mechanism, loading one of the projectiles in the barrel. He aimed with both hands and fired. Myrhia screamed at the sound of the Lawmaker spewing a myriad of sparks and a lead bullet.

Deep inside the orchard, the knife that the dark figure held over Shard was knocked from the ominous hand and into the cherry tree behind it. Letho’s right hand flipped the mechanism open, ejecting the bullet, and closed it, loading another. “That’s the first and only warning you get, scum!” he shouted as he moved forwards, holding the gunblade with both hands and aiming it at the man’s face. “Now step away from the boy and crawl back under whatever rock you emerged from.”

The Marshal advanced through the woodlet confidently, his ever-aware eyes once again squinted and keen, the eyes of a predator. “Myrhia, take Shard inside and both of you stay there while I deal with this knave.”

[Devil May Care]

Shard was still in a daze, feeling as if everything was oozing around him, nothing fluid and precise anymore. Raven stood over him, somewhat surprised at the sudden appearance of Myrhia and Letho, but a hint of arrogance still flickering behind his dark eyes. Even though it never registered in his mind, a bloody aura spilled out around Raven, growing until it coated him like a second skin. After a moment, the boy’s mind realized it was the scarf that had coated him, and watched in a newfound dread as it furthered its evolution. The still was knocked from him as two hands grasped his shoulder and Myrhia sobbed into his ear. A burning fear lanced through his heart he and grabbed her hand and ran with her, yet still unable to tear his eyes away from the transforming figure of what used to be Raven.

Instead of a human, a creature covered in crooked angles and silhouetted by two enormous blood red wings stood between the trees. His body was covered with that seemed to be red cloth wrappings, and beneath it shadowy skin oozed. The quick, small hands had grown into long, wicked claws. Still standing on two legs, only his calm and cruel eyes showed the human beneath the red and black. Taking one step towards Letho, Raven’s new form reached out one clawed hand to the side, summoning a disgusting red energy ball which swirled and twisted until it formed into a long sword. The man’s mouth moved, but he couldn’t hear it as Myrhia pulled him through the backdoor of the manor and slammed it closed.

She sat him down against the wall and watched out the window, keeping somewhat in cover. Shaking uncontrollably, Shard managed to speak, the paralysis wearing off.

“What…what is he? What did Raven do?�

- - -

“It is going to be fun ripping you to shreds, Letho Ravenheart.�

Raven licked his lips, a long red tongue lashing out between two sets of fangs. The new body thrived, unknown energies pulsing through his veins, transforming him into something greater then he could have ever been. Though knowing it wasn’t his power, the sadistic man could feel everything he was capable of in this form, and flexed all his new muscles. Spinning the shadow-wrought blade in his hand to test it, he faced the Marshal and grinned wickedly.

“Now, now, do not worry. When I am finished with you, Obsidian will take the boy and we will be on our way. Worst comes to worst, our master kills him. If you move aside now, you won’t have to die. Just give me him!�

As if on cue, Obsidian’s head peeked around a tree to stare at Letho with apathetic eyes. A tiny smile stretched across his face as he leapt from his hiding spot, then leaned against the tree, knowing this was his lord’s fight. Raven wanted to test out his new abilities, and Obsidian respected that. Knowing his place in this confrontation, he waited a few moments then a chill ran down his spine as he rang a tiny bell that clanged without sound. He couldn’t hear it, but it wasn’t meant for him.

Blue now stood, seeming to have faded into being from the very air, to the side of the Ranger, waiting patiently. Her gown somehow did not blow or even twitch in the slight wind, as if she didn’t even exist. Raven held up one finger, commanding her to stay her assault until he had his chance. Winning instantly wouldn’t be any fun. Having shown all his cards, the thief lord raised his blade to point at the man and spoke once more.

“Choose now, give me the boy and live, or die with him?�

[Letho]

In all honesty, Letho couldn’t say that he spurned the proposition the moment it was uttered by the ostentatious attacker. It was, after all, the easy way back to normal. There would be no nuisance roaming through the manor, no modifications in the life that he established in Willowtown, no distraction between Myrhia and him that would obstruct their relationship. All he had to do is simply stand down, hand over the boy that the winds of fate swept onto his doorstep, and continue with his perfect, secluded life with the redhead. It was selfish, of course, and went against scruples that he upheld, but it was a thought that certainly tickled his mind for a second or so.

Especially when the solitary assailant transformed into an impressive winged demon. A shadowed figure that was only seconds ago a mere rogue metamorphosed into a devilish figure and a mere sight of it gave Myrhia the chills in such abundance that she almost closed her eyes from fear. As if that wasn't enough, the demon was joined by a pair of comrades. The bastard with the smartass smile to his left was identified as Obsidian, probably a street name that the crook arrogated. He didn’t seem too impressive to the Marshal. To his right, however, as if summoned by some eerily magic, materialized a woman that seemed like a renegade bride. Her posture was tranquil to the point where she seemed completely dormant, oblivious to what went on around her. Letho didn’t know what was the cause of it, but the creepy female gave his entrails a nudge, the kind that a person got when he stood in front of a significantly stronger class bully. It was a peculiar feeling that came to life within his gut and then, like a serpent, it crept up his spine and through the rest of his body. It made Letho smirk.

“Finally. Somebody worth fighting.”

The benighted figure, however, commanded his lackeys to stand down, reiterating his offer. The swordsman looked at the demon, past the blade that was seemingly conjured from thin air, and then cast a glance over his shoulder and back to the house. At the lower corner of the window, pale and frightened, Myrhia’s face peered from behind the greenish curtain. And it messed up his weighing and measuring. He could probably walk over the rather treacherous act of giving Shard to these people. Myrhia, however, would be crushed by this. Those pleading eyes of hers still saw a knight in him, a hero that refused to wallow in his own bitterness, that still believed in the Old Code. And there was a line that she clung to, the line that saved her life as well.

His might upholds the weak...

“I don’t think you understood me when I first spoke, thing.” Letho spoke, reverting his eyes back on the boogeyman that came to claim Shard. “So maybe when I shot that blade out of your hand, I aimed too much to the side to get the message through that thick skull of yours.”

The Lawmaker was lined up with the malicious, diabolical face in a twinkle of an eye and there was no hesitation in the Marshal’s shot. However, even though the weapon roared menacingly at what seemed almost like point blank range, the shot failed to splatter the face of the morphed creature before him. He moved with eerily fleetness, ducking and dashing to the side like an outline of a ghost. And even as the first tendril of smoke started to rise from the gun mouth of the fired weapon, the demon was at Letho’s flank, going for the kill with a blistering thrust at the unarmored ribcage.

Not fast enough though. Even though the movement of the dark man was beyond human, Letho was no slouch himself. His right pulled back the gunblade, spun it at his side with little effort and swatted the sword away as if it was a dry stick. The apparition in front of him reacted momentarily. A dagger reappeared in his left and he instantly swung it at Letho’s neck with an intention to slither the Marshal’s throat. But once again, Letho’s reflexes were top notch. Every day he sparred with Myrhia who was considerably faster then him and the movements that the rogue did were no news to him. His left went to intercept, trapping the wrist of the knave in an iron clutch. The bones beneath his fingers crunched for a fraction of a second, but before the man-beast could even utter a yelp, Letho pulled his arm down and slid behind him, effectively pinning the broken hand to the man’s back.

“The boy stays here.” he growled over the shoulder of the dark-haired man before he twisted his hand even further, stabbing the dagger in the small of his back. Once again there was no time for a scream. Even as the blade penetrated the flesh, Letho took a step back and launched a roundhouse kick that send the black figure flying through mid air and into one of the tree trunks.

The Marshal reloaded the Lawmaker with a quick jerk of his hand, pointed it first to Obsidian and then to his overdressed partner. “I suggest you two take your companion away before you get seriously injured.”

[Devil May Care]

Raven’s arrogance had begun to melt away as he saw that even the demonic prowess of this new form was not enough to take on Letho alone. Cursing softly as he got up from the ground, the thief barely even noticed as the broken bones and cuts were healed by his dark armor. Flexing his arm to test it, he considered the situation for a moment before turning to look at Obsidian. The punk grinned at him and nodded, stepping behind a tree to get out of sight. A soft, echoing chant emerged from behind the tree. Tendrils of energy seeped into the ground, the air thinning and growing tense as if holding its breath. Raven stepped back out into the open, facing the Ranger with renewed confidence. Reaching his arms out to his sides, blood red blades formed in each hand. In his right was a long sword, and in his left a dagger.

Taking a step forward, Raven spread his demonic wings and grinned at Letho, preparing himself. Finally the chanting ended and a single word of an archaic language was shouted, triggering a tremble in the ground. Just as the shockwave hit, Raven took the air, flying over the Ranger in a quick arc. The man shot at him in the middle of his flight, barely missing one of his wide leathery wings. Landing with a thud, Raven turned and looked into the eyes of the Ranger’s wife, knowing he would eat her after this was all was done.

“You’re next.”

Turning his attention back to the main concern, the idiotically brave warrior, Raven shouted a cue. Obsidian leapt out from his tree, a globe of brown and red energy swirling between his fists, which he promptly slammed into the ground. Blasting up from where the energy touched spikes of earth made a straight line of destruction towards Letho. The man backed up, giving Raven a chance as he leapt at him with the blades slicing.; a horizontal slash with the long sword and a quick stab to his midsection with the dagger. The first was knocked aside by the metal Lawmaker and the second never got a chance to be pulled off as a bullet blasted into Raven’s chest, sending him sprawling backwards into the air. Spinning and opening his wings at the same time to catch himself just before slamming into the house, he ripped the bullet out and snarled, watching with pleasure as a large stone slammed into the man’s unsuspecting back.

Two small cries echoed out from the house as the man hit the ground with a grunt. The wicked smiles of the thieves grew in leaps and bounds, a sick joy running up their spines. Obsidian right out cheered in glee, and Raven simply floated to the ground, turning to face the window. Reaching out one long clawed finger he scratched the window in front of the girl’s face, slicing into it delicately. Whispering to her, he laughed maniacally, “You will suit my appetite finely, hahaha.”

Just then the door burst open, surprising the thief lord as he was knocked out of the out by the swinging wood. Landing on his back with a curse fresh on his lips, Raven looked up as the boy leaped through the air with a small rusty knife in his hands. Laughing at the vane attempt, the man conjured a dagger and was swinging it at the boy when he heard a gunshot and a sting of pain. Glancing at his empty hand, he twisted his head to stare at the Ranger, standing again, reloading his gun with grace. Blood shot across his vision just then and he felt his powers slipping away. The dagger was thrust into his stomach; the boy had rolled to the side and was staring at him with dark eyes.

“Damn!”

Raven stood, barely able to keep his feet and stared at his own hands as the blood red imbuement slowly slid off. Claws returned to being gloved hands and the wound in his stomach began to gush blood. Spinning on a heel and panting, he drew a dagger and faced Letho, knowing he would be dead soon. He was no longer a demon incarnate, just a man with fancy armor; he had no chance. The boy was in his grasp, but it was the boy who had ended it all for him. If he hadn’t been so arrogant and just let Blue handle the man, then he would have been walking back to the den by now. Spitting out the words, he pleaded for Blue’s help. Her answer was what he expected, but it still chilled his bones.

“You have no control over me anymore. Now you receive what you deserve.”

With that, she turned and melded back into the air, seeming to come undone at the seams. The silver threads that burst outwards slowly disappeared, leaving no trace that she had ever been there. Raven’s fate was decided, but he would do anything he could to change it. With a cry of rage, he burst into a run at Letho, seeing that Obsidian was also charging the man with a stone sword.

“You ruined it…you ruined everything!”

[Letho]

When the door burst open, Letho was positive that Myrhia disobeyed his order and decided to even out the numbers in the battle that raged though the orchard. However, instead of the willowy redhead, it was the pauper tyke that came charging heedlessly at the demon. He leapt onto the changeling creature with vehemence, slamming a crummy looking dagger below the hem of the armor and deep into the stomach before he rolled away. It was then that the redhead lass found her bearings again, scurrying on the back porch and pulling Shard away from the wounded beast. Before her eyes, the devil spawn transformed, his bestial characteristics melting away gradually until only a rather desperate rogue remained. And he didn’t seem interested in Myrhia or her fosterling.

With a dreadful bawl, the black-haired man grabbed the dagger and dashed towards Letho like a wild boar. The prinked lady in the white attire seemed uninterested in further participation, turning her back on her “master” and fading away into nothingness in the same manner in which she materialized moments ago. Obsidian seemed more then eager to make up for the loss though. The geomancer that launched a sizeable boulder at the Marshal’s back moments ago and now joined the shadowy knave in the final, unhinged, do-or-die charge. In his hands was a sword forged from what seemed like granite, but it was scarcely a formidable weapon in Letho’s eyes. A dagger and a rocky sword... Before he made a single move, he foresaw the conclusion of this little bout under the dusky sky.

His right brought the Lawmaker in a perfectly vertical downwards position, the weapon merely hanging on Letho’s two fingers in what seemed like a defensive position. The pair of brown eyes as sharp as a razor peered around the gunblade and at the distorted, hate-filled face of the rogue. Obsidian advanced from the flank, but he was slower and less infuriated then his boss. Before the raven-haired assailant got within five feet from the Marshal, the fingers let go of the six-foot weapon. But before its tip even got a chance to touch the grass below, his palm struck the flat side of the dehlar weapon, rifling it towards his overzealous attacker. The Lawmaker took flight, darted over the short distance, and before the doppelganger even saw the tawny twinkle on the blade’s edge, the titanic weapon penetrated his chest, reversing his momentum and sending him flying towards the manor wall. He wound up pinned to the back of the house, with the gunblade protruding from his thorax and with mere seconds of struggle before his body went limp.

This move would’ve probably made Obsidian think twice before coming at the Marshal like a nitwitted ogre, but by the time his employer got stapled to the wall, it was too late to reconsider. His stony blade was swung at the unarmed Marshal in an attempt to behead him, the horizontal arc both forceful and precise. Letho evaded it with backpedaling once, then repeating the same move when the mage followed it up with another overextended swipe. There was no third time. With his back against one of the trees, the weaponless swordsman set his left foot against the trunk, then pushed against it in a timely manner, aiming his counter at the exact time Obsidian’s strike ended and before another started. The bulky Marshal leapt straight at his opponent, tackling the significantly lighter opponent and pinning him to the ground. Letho’s left went for the weapon hand, broke it at the elbow with a sickening crackle before the mage even got a chance to attack. Letho’s right grabbed the man by the lower jaw, stifling the scream as the bearded face loomed from above.

“I don’t see you smirking now, whelp.” Letho’s voice rumbled, his emotionless, callous eyes fending off all the despair and fear from those that looked up from below. With a mere flick of the wrist and before Myrhia even got a chance to utter a plea to spare the man’s life, the Marshal snapped Obsidians neck as if it was made out of rotten wood. The eyes that were a second ago spraying dread went dead and Letho walked away from the fallen figure at a weary-looking gait.

“Letho! Letho, are you alright?” the redhead came running towards him, her arms fastened around his neck urgently, as if he was a conscript that just came home from a long, dreadful war. “I saw you go down and I though...”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. It was just some bastard throwing rocks at me.” he replied, smiling softly as his arms gave her an affectionate squeeze. Her scarred face, though severely startled, seemed to loosen up a little bit at the lighthearted way in which he spoke. He held her close for a couple of moments, then released her from his grasp – far too soon for her liking – and turned to the boy and the dead rogue that hung from the wall like a trophy.

“I reckon you know these scallywags, boy?”

[Devil May Care]

Shard was mesmerized by the dance of battle that went on before him. After Obsidian fell victim to Letho’s brute strength, his eyes fell to stare at the dagger that lay broken on the ground. The knife blade was still inside Raven, and it was just a shattered handle now. Not even grieving for the loss of the last piece of evidence that connected him to Radasanth, he smiled and sighed a breath of relief that Letho was okay. Turning his chin up to return a kind gaze to the swordsman, the boy heard the question and answered immediately. Somehow being out here in the open changed him from his usual hesitant apathy. He wanted the swordsman to trust him.

“The man hanging from the wall is…was Raven. He and his gang stole something from me and took every opportunity to get me in trouble, but I just got his name. I’m so sorry that I caused so much trouble, Mr. Letho.�

Just as he said that Raven had stolen something from him, he remembered that the man kept it with him at all times. Cautious, as if the man might come back alive, he walked over to where the gun blade pinned the poor man’s corpse to the wall. A black tint had already taken to his skin as if he was decaying at an alarming rate. By time the boy reached up to touch the pouch on his belt, the entire body exploded in flames and nothing but ash was left behind. From the middle of the explosive reaction, a small pendant fell and hit the ground, shining in its silver brilliance among the soot. Smiling happily, he kneeled down and gently picked it up, rubbing the black spots off its surface. It was a small silver amulet that appeared to be two snakes twined together with silver angel wings reaching out to each side near the top. The ‘snakes’ were featureless, a simple design, but it had definite value to Shard.

“My little angel…�

Smiling, he sat down and put it around his neck. The cool touch of metal against his skin brought back warm feelings from his past. Shard couldn’t remember what they were connected to, but someone he truly loved had given this amulet to him. It was connected to his heart and he never wanted to lose it again. The soft touch of Myrhia’s hand on his shoulder broke his reverie as she bent down to hug him, feeling his near-traumatic concern. She helped him get up and then turned to Letho.

“Now, we should really get to having some supper.�

Her optimism and good humor was either unblemished by the incidents, or she wanted the boy to get his mind off it. He really didn’t mind if it was for him, and was happy to walk back into the house as Myrhia guided him. She moved off into a kitchen area and told him to head to the dining room. Shard, however, stayed back and turned to Letho whom was just coming through the door, brushing ash off his precious weapon.

“Letho…thank you.�

Without waiting for his response, Shard ran forward and hugged him as high as he could. It only ended up being around his chest, but he resisted crying as he felt the hard chest of the man. Deep inside, he felt that he had never had a father before, nobody to stand as a stone-hard guardian over him in times of trouble. To the boy, Letho was his guardian. He truly wanted to grow to love him, because Shard saw that he finally had a chance to have a family. People had tried to stop that, and it made him want it even more, but he knew the swordsman didn’t like him. With all his heart and will, Shard wanted to change that.

Finally letting go, he blushed slightly before turning and running off into the kitchen to help Myrhia.

'Thanks...Dad...'

[Letho]

During his royal upbringing, Letho Ravenheart – that was during his years as a Savion prince known as Ruben Letho – passed through countless training sessions and listened to countless excerpts of wisdom. Some came from his father, some from the long line of tutors and mentors that honed him, turning him into somebody who would be worthy of the throne that his father left as a heritage. But even though all tried to their utmost to prepare a royal whelp for the reality of the world, there were no lessons on how to handle sentiments and emotions. So while Letho was taught on how to properly run a country, he was severely lacking in the aspect of his life that dealt with actual living.

So when Shard hugged him, the former Savion prince didn’t know how to respond to that more out of ineptitude then out of sheer dislike. For twenty years he was his father’s son back home and not once did King Agraus hugged his son. Such bathetic displays of closeness were considered redundant, irrelevant to the nurturing of the future King, so they wound up being completely eradicated. It was this trained callousness that Myrhia had to fight every single day, this inability that for the most part of his life Letho considered as perfectly acceptable. And while she was fairly successful in this endeavor, she was still just an exception that confirmed the rule.

“Yeah, don’t mention it, kid.” the Marshal said, feeling a bit surprised and a bit uneasy as well with this scrawny lad hugging him as if they didn’t met mere afternoon ago. His left hand gave Shard a rather lifeless pat on the back, but even this rather awkward moment was enough to enlighten Myrhia’s face once again, her smile beaming and her twinkling with mild moistness. “Now go help Myri set the table or something.”

The dinner was both modest and grand at the same time, something only Myrhia could prepare. Given the fact that they spent the entire day in Radasanth, there was no time to prepare a warm meal in a timely manner, but that didn’t stop the redhead to make quite a feast. On a large round plate she arranged a fine assortment of dried meat, bacon strips, dried sausages seasoned with spicy paprika, salty pieces of smoked ham, deer jerky soft enough to be cut with a dull knife. On a relatively smaller plate – which was unsurprising since Letho wasn’t too favorable of the vegetables – were neatly cut tomatoes, peeled cucumbers and a pile of green salad sprayed with just a splash of vinegar. The bread, though purchased yesterday in the local bakery, was still as soft as a sponge. For the grown-ups there was a bottle of white wine and for Shard there was a jug of apple juice. All of it sat on a rather heavyset table made out of polished oak that reflected the shimmer of the modest, petroleum-fueled chandelier above their heads.

Letho mostly ate in silence while Myrhia and Shard kept exchanging both smiles and words, chattering about some inane matters that took their minds away from the battle that took place less then an hour ago. He didn’t mind a whole lot. Even when the boy wasn’t present, Myrhia always maundered during a meal and he grew rather resilient to the lack of silence. Sometimes he remarked that because she talks so much while eating, she has no time to actually consume enough food which reflected on her rather scrawny, curveless figure. But today her smiles were wider then usual, warmer then usual, and no matter how uncomfortable he was with the newcomer in his household, he could never take that mirth away from her.

“Well, I think we’re all getting a bit tired.” Myrhia finally said after a rather lengthily yawn once most of the food was gone and they nibbled on some honeyed cookies that she brought from the kitchen. “It was a really busy day and all. You can go upstairs, Shard. Letho will help me clean this up. You have a good night and sweet dreams.”

She got up, gave the red haired boy a tight hug, and sent him up the stairs. The stoic swordsman merely nodded, his fingers playing with a toothpick on the surface of the table. Once Shard was gone, he got up and started collecting the plates wordlessly. Myrhia stood in the doorframe that stood between the kitchen and the dining room, her hands on her narrow hips and her head cocked in a sweet, studious manner. All she was missing was a question mark above her head that would make it even more obvious that she had something brewing in that pretty little head of hers and that it was about to come out.

“You know, you could at least give him a chance.” she finally said, but all that her words elicited from him was a single look before he continued gathering the tableware. “I know you don’t like him and that he’s not up to your standards and whatnot and that he got us in trouble and that you don’t trust him. But I feel that there is good in him, that there is more then just a rascal in him. So could you at least try not to hate him? For me?”

“I don’t hate him.” he replied silently, pilling everything on the large plate and stepping towards the kitchen. Myrhia stood still, barring him entrance, her eyes looking up at him inquisitively, studiously, breaking through his seemingly emotionless browns.

“Then what is it?” she asked, and a second of observing later she answered. “You’re afraid of him, aren’t you?”

Letho snorted mockingly, shifted the tray into his right and pushed past her with his left. She didn’t give up, turning around before she spoke again.

“That’s it. You’re afraid of him. You’re afraid that he will disrupt your routine and that he will stand between us.” Myrhia said, smiling victoriously as she walked forwards gingerly. He didn’t look at her, discarding the dirty dishes in the sink, but several seconds later her head popped over his shoulder, her whisper creeping into his ear. “You, my dear Letho, are jealous.”

“I’m not jealous.”

“Oh yeah? So all that sulking and stubborn silence and frowned looks, that’s just your way of saying ‘welcome’?” the redhead said. Her words seemed to have no effect, the bulky man unloading the contents of the tray at the same, monotonous pace. Finally, her hands crept around him, embracing him from behind.

“Just give him a chance. You won’t regret it, I promise. Come on, say you will. Come on, say it. Come on, you big oak.” and then, after several seconds of silence, she pushed herself up on her toes and bit into his neck playfully. “Say you will or you’re sleeping on the couch.”

Letho smiled and shook his head in defeat. Somehow she always found the right weapons to break through his defenses.

[Devil May Care]

Striding up the stairs with ease, Shard’s mind was occupied by thoughts and dreams. Today was, to him, such a perfect day. All at once he had lost his enemies and earned a family. With a sincere smile on his face the boy pushed into his room and looked around. It seemed almost unreal that this was his home now. Only earlier this day he would of believed that he would never again have a place to call home. Desolate and lost in the streets of Radasanth, his hopes had been near nonexistent. Things had happened that were unexplainable, dreams that were too real to be forgotten, but all of that seemed over now.

I’m safe.

Moving up to his window Shard pulled open the cloth curtains and unlatched the lock. Gently opening the somewhat squeaky windows to not be too loud he leaned out on the windowsill and listened to the air. Nature at its finest was here, blowing against his cheek, kissing his hair. The sky was clear of any clouds and stars shone down will unmatched brilliance. Out here, away from the city life of Corone’s Capitol, it was amazing how much more magnificent simple things like the stars looked. The dust and buildings of the city blocked out most of it and he could never really stargaze.

Lowering his view to the orchards and fields around the manor, Shard could spot in the distance the lights from windows in Willowtown. It was quite a ways away but a brisk walk could bring him to it before long if he wanted; a good thing to know. Leaning out he examined what he could of the surroundings but saw only endless fields. On the opposite side of Willowtown the boy could spot the silhouette of a giant windmill almost invisible in the growing dusk.

Shard let a sigh escape past his lips as he fell back from the window and lay down on his bed. The memories that remained instilled into his thoughts of his life before Radasanth bubbled up to the surface. Things that his father said to him, scraps of feelings and anger; all of it was fragmented and piece-meal. One saying echoed over and over in his mind, something he used to believe.

All of the Knights are dead…


Suddenly a laugh cropped up from his mouth as he closed his mind. Letho’s face bloomed into his inner eye; cutting down Raven and Obsidian, saving him from those who hunted him. Even if it not mutual, Shard trusted the swordsman. At that moment the boy knew that his father was wrong. His father’s ignorance had made him miss someone, and his omniscient and imposing statement seemed weak now. The cackling voice faded from his memory replaced by a warm feeling of being welcomed. Myrhia and Letho were his parents now. That man wasn’t a part of his life anymore. Shard whispered to himself before falling into a pleasant sleep.

“There is at least one left…�

Spoils: The Seraph; A pure silver amulet that has special meaning to Shard. It was given to him by someone special, though he cannot remember who it is. It is his own connection to the warm feelings of love he had for that person from the part of his life he cannot recall, and when he touches it, it can dispell any worries or concerns. When wearing it, Shard cannot have nightmares and dreams only of paradise. Anyone who can sense magic will detect a strange yet small ammount contained within the charm. {Cannot be Sold}

[Osato]

Shards of a ‘not-so-Fairy’ Tale

Current Mood: Eager
Current Music: The CD ‘Faso Latido’ by A Static Lullaby

~~Introduction~~
7
Shard – your introduction was well done, with few problems. My main qualm was that I have nothing about the little boy other than character and his intent behind stealing. Try and add a little more to your intro, anything is better than just the name of your character and continuing on with the scene.

Letho – I’m interested in your character because I’ve hardly read any of your threads. You did well with the exposition and explaining enough of the background for the reader to be able to feel their way into your character. Along with the dialogue it helped me really begin to understand who Letho was. Though there was not everything about him in the very first post, it was enough, and the rest slowly began to trickle in later like it was supposed to.


~~Setting~~
6
The settings seemed rather forgotten most of the time… poor setting. I always love reading threads written by Shard because of the depth he puts into the setting. I have always held you up as a perfect example of the depth of setting that I am looking for in a thread, and was somewhat surprised by the lack of setting for the most part. I was very proud at the beginning, when you were looking for the bell and described the elaborate “Titan’s Forge” but was dejected from then on.


~~Writing Style~~
8
Shard – minor issues with misspelled words or misuse of little words. Other than those small concerns, however, it was very well written as I expected coming into the judging. I am pleased to be able to read another thread by you, as always.

Letho – Minor issues dealing with tense changes but nothing much other than that. Though, the style was a different form than I am used to seeing, I must admit. Perhaps it was not tense problems, but instead my perception of the style you used. Interestingly done, with two characters and telling from a third person limited present tense, with mostly an active voice. I understand how it would be difficult to not slip here and there, though I am going to look over it more closely.


~~Character~~
8
Shard – It is always interesting to see how people play a younger character, especially one so young. I think, though, that you are definitely up there with the better of that group, including Toy Soldier. I am pleased to see how strong the characteristics of Shard are, including his emotions, fears, and personal thoughts.

Letho – I think it may just be me, but Myrhia is a rather trite character. It might not be that, but I was generally uninterested in her especially since she was the main character. However, the depth of character you did show, along those lines at least, was very well done and solid. I saw that both Letho and Myrhia were both round characters and not flat, which is often the case.


~~Dialogue~~
8
Shard – You used the same line of dialogue a number of times for thoughts. I understand that was probably the main concern going through the boy’s head, but it was also somewhat annoying to see it so much. No worries though, because you played off it well. Just be careful with overusing an idea in the same form over and over…

Letho – I got much more dialogue from you, and therefore was more able to base a good score off of what was given. You have a very good sense of tone and attitude, expressing both fluidly with your dialogue. Thankfully your verbal communications near perfectly parallels your characters and the way you set them up. I enjoyed the rather quick-paced banter back and forth between Myrhia and Letho. Only a few modern suggestions in your writings that I did not like that much, such as an illusion to a doughnut… but I suppose that’s also relative.


~~Strategy~~
7
The fighting was well done. I was only slightly confused at one point, when no name was mentioned. However, when I read over it again I quickly figured out which person the action belonged to… and felt somewhat goofy.


~~Rising Action~~
7
The action was very well created both on emotional and situational sense. The introduction of the revamped Raven was amazing, as was the use of Blue. Both were not necessarily dynamic antagonists, but were well created and well used. Leading to the fight between Raven and Letho was very well done.

However, I somewhat missed the fact that both Obsidian and his partner were present. I am unsure if this is so much about the rising action as it is about setting, but either way it would have been good to have a little more clarity.


~~Climax~~
7
Letho, you wrote the climax very well. I think it flowed better, perhaps, because yourself and Shard together bunnied each other. The fact that it was so smooth could not have been better. However, the fight was not as grand as I thought it would have been, for a fight. Though, I suppose, laughably of course, that anyone fighting a massive tank like Letho would not last that long anyway. Well done.


~~Conclusion~~
8
I loved your conclusion Letho. It was very well done, showed character depth, an excellence through dialogue, and a very fitting conclusion. It also dealt with a personal issue that Letho had without outright attacking it, but instead dodging around it and dealing with it rather realistically.

Shard, you did well too. Finally realizing and overcoming an old edict that you could not let go earlier in the thread. Very well done, and a beautiful conclusion.


~~Wild Card~~
8


~~Notable Quotes~~
“Myrhia usually retorted to such caustic thinking, saying that maybe you can’t fix the world, but you can try, but not everybody had the desire to charge against those windmills like she did.” ~~ Letho


Score
74
Rewards
Shard – 850 exp and 50 gold and the amulet
Letho – 3100 exp and 200 gold