Going Home

[Luned]

Going Home


Closed to Rayse Valentino.
This directly follows On the Lam (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?24406-On-the-Lam).


She'd done it. Luned had left Corone to see the world and, in unfortunate effect, had decided she rather didn't like it much. After a tiring transcontinental trek and an unsettlingly gory hangover weekend at a barony here in Salvar she was more than ready to find her way home.

Such would have been a relatively simple task, but she was currently wanted by multiple parties and making her way to the coast had emptied her pockets nearly to the lint. With nothing but a few supplies of her trade, her precious toolbox left in the empty office of the jail keeper of which she'd been accomplice to the murder, the scribe was in a tough spot. Luned had two bottles of magic ink left and she shuffled to a stop on the side of the dusty road, holding the sepia liquid up to the light to see which particular recipe this one was.

The woman's boots had seen better days, now coated with dried mud from her off-road meandering, and the rest of her was wearing as thin as her soles from sleepless nights and exhausting days. One's first kill –– or, she dared consider, kills in plural –– were bound to weigh heavily on a previously light and unfettered soul. In the two peaceful nights of camping she'd had since parting with the James brothers she'd stared up at the night sky, stars blinking through the evergreen boughs and becoming the sparse glints of light that reflected off the jailer's face as he fell limp and sighed his last putrid breath against her face. Luned resigned herself to forget what it felt to be truly rested, and it didn't help that the leftovers of whatever psychedelics she'd consumed continued to make their presence known at inopportune moments.

There was still the journal with its link to Bleddyn, her connection to Corone, safety, funds… but what would she say? How could she look her mentor in the eye after what she'd done?

It was amazing, really, that Luned still maintained some will to survive, but it was this instinct that kept her going on the road to Tirel and, hopefully, to a vessel that could deliver her home.

Huddled under an old brown coat in traditional Salvic style, something she "borrowed" in an attempt to blend in, Luned adjusted it around her shoulders as she peered up at the vial of ink. Once she'd determined its batch she deposited it back in her pocket, looked around the empty road with wide blue eyes, and continued on her way. She appeared as a vagrant if there ever was one, that old jacket several sizes too big, the hem of her gray-blue uniform dress visible under it along with the hanging lace trim of the white gown she wore underneath. She could've ditched it along the way along with the memories of that dreadful night, but any extra layers were essential to keep out the chill of night in Salvar.

A wagon passed, a rider or two, and then another. Luned was nearing a town. She had little concept of where she was, only that she was going West, but from the disappearing lack of salt in the air she determined with no small amount of disappointment that she wasn't at Tirel quite yet. In a half-hearted attempt to make herself presentable she smoothed out her braids and re-pinned them as she walked, taking care to tidy what she could of her clothing as well.

Small houses sprouted from the woods in increasing frequency, run-ins with people becoming a constant nuisance. Luned kept her head down as she attempted to blend in and wove her way through a few streets, aiming for the town center. She would orient herself with the help of a local, perhaps find something to eat, and then she'd be on her way.

A pit in her stomach formed and grew as she approached the eerily familiar town square. It was no bustling metropolis but rather a small cluster of buildings inhabited by shops and craftsmen, amongst them a sign she knew well not to trust: "BOOKS".

Luned cursed under her breath and glanced around, hoping it was a selfish delusion that someone might recognize the face of an arbitrarily accused witch from the prior week.

But, unfortunately for her, the crime of witchcraft was not one easily brushed off and forgotten by a small, backwoods town with little other news of which to speak.

Someone stepped out of the misleading-proclaimed book shop and Luned dodged into an alley between a butchery and woodworker's shopfront, bumping straight into a woman who was carrying a pail of discarded animal pieces.

"Sorry," Luned stuttered, barely remembering to speak the region's language. "Do you know which road goes to Tirel?"

The older woman eyed her oddly, mouthing the name of the port city, before responding. "Let me check. Nik! Niiik!" The scribe winced at the level of shouting, regretting her quick cover-up already.

An elderly man who was sitting on the steps of the tavern across the street and two doors away from the book shop looked up from his pipe and hollered back. "What?!"

"What's the fastest route to Tirel?!"

The old man turned his head and cupped his hand around his ear, signaling his aged deafness. "Whaaat?!"

"Tirel!" The woman shouted with a sigh, grabbing Luned by the arm as she trudged over to old Nik. "I do apologize, but he's been around long enough to be as good as any map."

Luned found herself dragged across the town square, her eyes betraying her anxiety as she continued glancing toward the book shop. The door was closed. She only had to excuse herself politely and she could be on her way––

And then she saw them. A man and a woman, dressed in Lord Essen's colors and armed to the teeth, inquiring pedestrians nearby with a shoddily-printed wanted poster. She had no doubt that it contained haphazard sketches of herself and the James brothers on it, and when the female soldier glanced her way at the commotion that Nik and the scrap woman were causing, she knew she was screwed.

Luned could have played it cool and attempted to weasel her way out of a negotiation, but she didn't trust herself. In the sudden surge of adrenaline her eyes met with spots, creepy crawlies that seemed to appear from her subconscious. She tried to blink them away as she wriggled out of the woman's grasp. "Sorry, I have to go, thanks anyway!"

The scribe dodged back into the alley and attempted to circumvent the town square, dodging and scattering chickens as she bolted. Footsteps followed, and she cursed.

[Rayse Valentino]

The smell of trouble never quite takes on the same odor. People somehow know when they're in trouble, but it isn't recognizable to a previous smell. Instead, if it's a recognizable sort of trouble then it has no smell, but is instead replaced by a feeling. That's what Rayse felt, anyhow. He knew that he was on a path that lead to disaster, but he was compelled to follow it. With a beer in one hand, and a map in the other, the contractor trotted along on the dirty town road, the grass constantly trampled by wagons, animals, and people. Various clusters of houses surrounded him, and he could tell that this was a town who did not know the plight of war.

He was, after all, far east in the Salvaran realm; far from the epicenter of the civil war, Knife's Edge, and the various baronies that surrounded it. Towns like this were often used as stopping points for travelers on their way to Tirel. He took another drag on the cigarette in his mouth, the smoke mixing in his lungs as if he breathed it. There were many alternate paths east, but considering the length of Salvar, it was difficult to imagine people going too far out of their way. Still, he studied the map just in case his leads came up short.

As he passed by a cluster of houses with clothes hanging off lines between them, he heard the increasingly audible sound of footsteps. He looked to his left, but all he could see was a big white sheet in front of him. Suddenly, the sheet protruded toward his person, as if an apparition had possessed it. The sheet was torn off the clothespins holding it in place, and something crashed into him. Caught off guard, he fell to the ground and dropped his possessions, blinded by the whiteness of the linen cloth.

Whatever slammed into him had quickly gotten up and taken off running away with a meek but hurried "sorry", leaving Rayse to try to displace the sheet from his body. Upon doing so, he saw two men in noble attire do the unthinkable: They stomped all over his beer and map, shattering the bottle and ripping up the map. Angered by his newfound loss of booze, Rayse got up and pursued them. Unfortunately for the girl, her next avenue of escape turned out to be a dead end, as what she thought was an alley was actually a fenced-in backyard. The two men caught up with her, with Rayse shortly behind. It was a fenced in farm area with chickens, although the wooden fences were constructed to be eight feet high in order to dissuade bandits. The gate leading in was open due to the chickens having been sold a while ago.

One of the guards looked over the bounty drawing, and then at the girl, "Miss Harthworth, we are under order to bring you back to Lord Essen for the murder of his father and the previous Lord Essen, Roxanna Essen, and The Warden. We would like to avoid using excessive force if you would come quietly."

The girl shook her head, "You- you're mistaken!"

"We have our orders, miss. If you would like to profess your innocence then you may do so to Lord Essen."

"So I should go to this Essen guy to pay for my drink?" said an irritated Rayse from behind the baron's men. They both turned around partially, keeping the young lady in the corner of their eyes.

"Sir, I'm sorry but we are on official boyar business. We must have to ask you to leave."

Rayse spit out his cigarette, stomping it flat in the ground, "I suppose that gives you the right to trample over my things?"

"If you don't leave, you will be known as impeding an official investigation. This is my last warning."

Rayse smiled, "That's the problem with you goons, too many warnings." He reached into his pocket, and threw a tar-based mini-molotov at their feet, having already lit it with a flame he conjured on the tip of his finger while it was in his pocket. Immediately, the shot class burst into a thick, choking black smoke, causing the baron's men to take out their weapons and hold them at the ready. They were engulfed quickly by the smoke, but before they could start coughing, there were two loud cracks in the alley, and both of the baron's men fell to the ground.

The girl's vision was also impeded, and to her surprise she felt a tight grip on her forearm and Rayse's voice. "Let's go, unless you think the justice system in this country is worth a damn." He pulled her blindly through the smoke until they were back out in the street. The guards who were knocked aside groaned and coughed as they got back up, running out of the alley themselves.

However, when they got back out into the street, both the girl and Rayse were gone.

[Luned]

The sudden explosion of harsh smoke caught Luned just as off-guard as the men, but she knew it was for the best to comply when a firm hand grasped her by the arm and pulled her out of harm's way. The stranger led her out onto the street before the guards could pull themselves together, thanks to moving quickly, and had navigated some side streets into a residential area. When the guards oriented themselves they would split up to search, but the pair had a slight head start that gave them just enough breathing room to talk while they booked it toward the forested path out of town that was rising up ahead.

"Thank you," Luned gasped, catching her breath. It wasn't the physical exertion that got her worked up, it was the rush of almost being taken back to that wretched place.

Rayse tossed her a glance of relative indifference, as if his mind wandered to where he might replenish his beverage instead of their debackle. Small livestock wandered the street between the old cottages as they proceeded briskly, geese and pigs impeding their path. The children who were meant to be tending them played games on a patch of grass nearby, their laughter surreal as Luned's head reeled.

"Actually, it wouldn't hurt to ask… do you know the best way to Tirel from here?" The scribe hesitated on the dirt street, stepping around a territorial rooster that puffed his feathers menacingly at her boots.

Rayse's next glance was more involved than before, albeit minutely. Luned noticed and her brows furrowed instinctively, afraid what had piqued his interest. His question was one she had hoped he wouldn't ask. "Depends. Is it true?"

The scribe's eyes shifted a few times before settling sheepishly on the ground. "What if it was?"

Rayse sighed, picking up the pace so her sudden bout of regret didn't hold them up enough to cause trouble. She followed suit, taking a few quick steps to catch up. Soon they were under the shade of ancient evergreens, the forest sparse at first, but the darkening path ahead informed them that there would be plenty of cover shortly. This road was overgrown more than the more oft-used routes, but in this case, obscurity was welcome. "I'd be more interested in how you managed it than anything," the contractor shrugged.

Luned wasn't particularly inspired to spill her guts, but after his assistance she at least owed an explanation. "I'll just say it was a mess," she frowned as she picked her way over some tree roots, the fine trim of the white gown she wore under her shabby traveling dress getting caught at the edge of some prickly underbrush. She pulled it free and a few threads came loose, fraying the pattern. "I made a bad sale and my products were used to harm Essen. He sought to right those wrongs. And it was downhill for everyone from there…" She trailed off, looking over her shoulder as if those new demons were creeping after her along with the guards.

[Rayse Valentino]

Of course, Rayse knew all this. He was not unlike her pursuers, but he had no intention of returning her to the nobles. The news of her abilities and the tragedy spread quickly throughout the country, with her fugitive status becoming more widespread as time went on. It would be a waste to let go of such a good troublemaker. He couldn't let her in on it, however. He had to continue to play the act of the helpful commoner.

"Products, eh?" he quipped. "I happen to be a business man. What products would those be?"

Hesitantly, she answered, "I make inks with, er… special properties."

Rayse raised a brow, a bit unsure as to how to proceed. He reached into his traveling bag and pulled out a business card, handing it to her. It had 'his' full name on it, the name Lodenworks, and a few of his operating locations around Salvar.

"My business deals in enchanted materials, artifacts, and other items with magical properties." Of course it was just a front he created specifically for this job, but he knew it would be the right kind of lie. "I'm aware of the stigma around magi in this country, but rest assured that I know what I'm doing. If you have something to sell with special properties, I'm the one to talk to."

"Ah, I see. Well, as long as you won't go for the pitchfork if I tell you, I produce a couple varieties of ink. The most popular is one that is invisible and undetectable until the receiver of the letter causes it to appear with a passphrase or otherwise. The other disappears after a set amount of time. You know… for more personal correspondence."

Rayse nodded, rubbing his chin with an inquisitive look on his face, "I see. I'm not surprised that some trouble was caused. With a product like that, your best bet is selling anonymously." He looked around to check if they were being pursued, and for now they were fine. "This may be odd coming from someone you just met, but if you promise me your business I would certainly escort you to Tirel. It's likely that those guys have interrogated the townsfolk and found out your exact destination- and sent out messenger birds up the road. I know a few ways to avoid bandits and nosy nobles. I was heading there anyway, since my business has branches in Corone, so it wouldn't be out of my way."

Luned knew this was probably a terrible decision but she was desperate, and it wasn't like things could get any worse… could they? But still, something about this was so strange. It didn't feel like a coincidence. "That would be appreciated, but… your business has branches in Corone? I've never heard of it there."

For a Coronian noble, she sure acted strangely. The reports told him that her name was Harthworth, but why would one of them be out here selling some weird magical ink? Something didn't add up about her identity. It was also possible she just shared their name and was not directly related. "Not surprising. We just opened, that's why I'm heading to Tirel. There's a lot of leftover trinkets and artifacts from the conflict there, and I bet a lot of people wouldn't mind selling anything they found on the battlefield."

"I see. Well, if it wouldn't cause you too much trouble… though I imagine it might. I've been lucky so far."

Rayse bowed, "It's no problem at all, ma'am. Allow me to introduce myself: I am known as Valeras Stoneforge. What may I call you?"

Luned frowned at the bow, remembering Dan's gallantry and the fact that she'd gotten him and his brother tortured and nearly killed. That was a lot of weight on her spirit and she couldn't bear more. "Maybe we shouldn't… I'll be glad to work with you back in Corone, but I can't accept your help like this. You really have no idea what happens to people around me. Here –– most of my supplies were, er, misplaced, but perhaps you might be interested in what I have on me?" She pulled the two small bottles of ink from her pocket, obviously intending to sell them to him on the spot to pay for her way back.

Rayse looked up, hiding his irritation. She didn't act like a noble, not even the act where someone pretends not to be one. Instead, she was vulnerable, and it wasn't a new feeling for her. He dropped his act a bit, "And then what? You'll run out of food and have to stop at a town along the way, and that's where they'll nab you."

Luned cringed, "I'm Luned. Luned Bleddyn."

Rayse wasn't as surprised as he thought he would be. She used the name Harthworth, knowing that Salvarans wouldn't be able to recognize one. She was more devious than he thought, maybe she really did kill the baron? He had no way of knowing. "Nice to meet you, Luned."

[Luned]

"Nice to meet you too," Luned replied, wavering hesitance in her voice and step as she moved to continue down the road. She was feeling more than a bit sheepish, but decided to focus simply on remaining aware of her situation and getting home. "So, what's the journey like to Tirel from here? Is it far?"

"Not too far." Rayse picked up the pace, keeping sharp tabs on the road both up ahead and behind them. "If we went directly it would only take a couple days, but since you have some pursuers, we're going to take a slightly longer route. We'll take a detour through a nearby town where I have some friends who might be able to give us advice as we manage this predicament."

Luned looked to "Valerus", unspoken question written on her face as she tucked his card into the pages of the journal in her pocket.

"It's not far, just a few miles."

This seemed to appease at least a small portion of the scribe's anxiety and the unlikely duo trudged along their way, small talk not something that happened naturally; their business-like natures had their setbacks. After some light chit-chat about Corone and Rayse's fake business the talking dispersed, leaving their trek to a soundtrack of twittering and scurrying wildlife.

This less-used road was largely overgrown, tiring as they picked their way over obstructive roots and pushed their way through heavy brush, but it was well-marked. Perhaps it was the remnant of an older path used by locals, now replaced by more efficient trade routes that ran directly between villages in a web-like network through the evergreen forests that largely populated this part of Salvar.

There was a noise that caught Luned's attention and she stopped in her tracks, an abrupt motion which caught Rayse's attention. He glanced back just as a particularly rotund squirrel slipped on a branch and it leapt just overhead in recovery, soon gone in a leaf-crashing blur of gray fur.

"Just thought I heard something," the scribe shrugged.

"Get off the road." Rayse ushered Luned off to the side as his ears picked up a distant thrashing some ways behind them, beneath it a rhythmic beat that was nearing gradually but surely.

They found cover easily enough and waited quietly, expectantly.

The rider approached as quickly as one on horseback might through such a jungle, surprisingly efficient, though occasionally slowing to navigate specially difficult segments of the run. It was a young man in forest green livery, and once he had passed and was well out of earshot, Luned dared speculate: "He's wearing the colors of the person who bought my inks. The person who screwed over Lord Essen and started the whole mess."

Rayse picked his way over vegetation to resume on the road, Luned shortly after. He appeared thoughtful for a moment, then began to walk again as his mind sorted through what he recalled of the servant uniforms of various landholders and men of power in the area. Salvar was vast and multiple establishments might share colors or have easily confused emblems, but he suddenly had an ominous inkling, and he'd check with his connections at their first pit stop.

[Rayse Valentino]

The forest soon gave way to a large field with bushy potato crops covering it. At the center of the field was a small farmhouse, so old that most of the paint had been chipped away. Despite the outward appearance of the house, the farm was well maintained, which gave the impression that either someone didn't care much for appearances, or someone else worked here. They made their way through the brush and arrived at the house, its front door barely held on by its hinges. Rayse knocked twice and waited. There was silence for a while, and only Rayse's confidence in the situation let Luned believe that someone was here. After a minute, faint footsteps could be heard from inside, slowly making their way to the door.

"Who is it?" came a voice from inside.

"It's me," Rayse said. The door creaked open, and a man who looked nothing like a farmer stood in the dark farmhouse. He was wearing a worn, black coat and his sleepy eyes gave away what he was doing before they came. He sniffed and let the two in.

"Hey, we got company."

"Oh yeah?" said a voice from deeper in the house. The walls looked just as bad on the inside. The floorboards were loose and creaked with every step. "I'm comin'."

The other man looked equally as haggard, the two of them with expressions on their faces like the last survivors of a battlefield. They purposely avoided making eye contact with Luned, for reasons she could only speculate about.

Rayse didn't want to be here any more than necessary, "I want to know what's on the road to Tirel. Mercs, striped-shirts, banner-men, anything."

The man in the black coat crossed his arms, almost giving away an audible sigh, much to Rayse's annoyance, "A couple of the Crown's men are patrolling, as well as some from Essen's barony. They seem to be looking for something."

"The Crown?"

"They had the Crown's colors, although I guess it's the Council's colors now."

"What do they want?"

"Beats me, but they seem to be even more antsy than the baron's guys."

Rayse didn't press the matter, they obviously knew nothing about this. He talked with the men briefly about the side roads, forgotten paths, and towns that were the safest to visit, and then he left the farmhouse with Luned, who had many questions but did not know whether or not they were appropriate to ask.

"In case you're wondering," Rayse said while pulling out a cigarette and lighting it off the bottom of his shoe. "They're informants. All sorts of organizations use them to keep up with current events. Anyway, you heard what they said- our best bet is heading to Urzhum, the walled-in town. Getting in is a bit of a pain but I have some connections. Any questions?"

[Luned]

There was a noticeable gap of silence between Rayse's question and Luned's response, as what they learned from these informants of his was enough for her to question some of the occurrences she survived over the past week… and, almost even more so, the identity of this alleged entrepreneur. The scribe felt a bit sheepish about her readiness to depend on another person for her safety, perhaps going with him proved that she was more naive than she liked to think, but she certainly could pick up on details.

But, at the same time, that issue felt unimportant. Whether or not this Valeras fellow was being truthful didn't seem particularly significant at the moment, for as much as Luned hated to go with a gut instinct when reason pushed her another direction, any airs of deceit didn't seem especially harmful in nature… just calculated, as if out of anticipation. She was briefly disappointed she didn't keep her false identity going, even if calling herself Scarlett made her sound like one of the girls who roomed upstairs at Moody's tavern.

There was the low hum of urgency in her ears as they headed out once more, now for this walled-in town of Urzhum. Such a place sounded vaguely familiar from her map, but she didn't have it anymore. Most of her valuables were now in the hands of an undoubtedly unappreciative teenaged baron, or strewn on a beach where they'd hopefully be useful to the brothers who'd made a slightly more efficient escape than herself. She frowned for a moment, her freckled face sullen before she recomposed with a deep breath.

"Makes sense," she replied eventually. "How far?"

Rayse shrugged through a haze of dissipating cigarette smoke. "It's early yet, we'll get there by sundown. Should be the only layover between here and Tirel, if we're lucky."

Luned nodded, eyeing him a bit oddly before concentrating on the ground to pick her way over some gopher holes. Rayse noticed but let it be, and the duo fell into thoughtful silence as they began their trek back into the shroud of evergreens and toward Urzhum.

At this point the scribe was fairly unhappy with herself. She'd been so caught up in the horrific gore of her recent misfortune that she hadn't considered the other sides of the story. Perhaps she'd avoided thinking of Lord Essen and Roxanna that way in an effort to avoid humanizing their corpses and preserving what little she had left of her nerves, but it was unavoidable. And now she realized that, perhaps, she'd made a mistake in labeling Bernd as nothing but a child.

She first met the baron's son in the colors that she now knew to belong to the Crown, or now, the Council. Luned felt that meant something in the grander scheme of things, something more than the fact that she was in even more trouble than she imagined, but her reasoning was clouded by the heavy burden of her responsibility in the deaths of at least three people. Their innocence didn't matter at this point, they could've been the purest of saints or the most corrupt of sinners, but their blood ran just as red as any other human and though she hadn't touched it, she felt stained. She was ruined and unfit for civil company, nothing but a coldblooded murderer. Yet, here she was…

It had been longer than Luned had realized, she'd been so deeply involved with her thoughts that the sun had long since crossed the azure dome of the sky and was now flirting with the horizon. She stopped her furious strides through the brush and blinked at it for a moment, squinting at the golden sphere visible at the edge of a clearing that hinted at the end of the forest.

Rayse had remained quiet for the journey both out of disinterest in smalltalk and the fact that Luned had gone into a disconcertingly dark rage that preemptively discouraged any attempt at conversation. He noticed her rise from the depths of whatever melodrama seized scribes and took the opportunity to communicate. "Almost there. We're about to cross a large trade route, so keep on your toes."

That pause was all it took for fatigue and hunger to set in, and Luned kept up with a renewed attention span and sense of purpose. She had to wonder how they'd get into this fortified city if they couldn't use the front entrance, and maybe this sneakiness would betray Valeras' true intents.

[Rayse Valentino]

Valeras Stoneforge was a boy Rayse knew in his youth. They went to the same military academy, and although Rayse was never too close with him, they enjoyed each other's company when on military duty. During an assignment to Ettermire, they were attacked by drow who opposed the alliance. Despite being a noble, Valeras volunteered to provide the distraction for the rest of the squad to retreat. It's not something Rayse would ever do, but he couldn't deny that he owed Valeras his life.

It was getting late as they approached the open plains that surrounded Urzhum. Their only light was from the city itself. Since they had to escape the previous town so soon, Luned never managed to pick up supplies for the trip, a fact that Rayse did not learn until they were far from the farmhouse. His rations lasted them for roughly one meal, but in the last stretch they were out of food and water. If they went in a straight line, throwing caution to the wind and taking the main roads, they could arrive in Tirel in a few days, but Rayse couldn't determine how long the alternative route would take. He couldn't take any unnecessary risks, so stopping at Urzhum could not be avoided. The tall stone walls rose up to greet them, with archers nestled in the watchtowers alongside the main gate. Craters could be seen all around, the remnants of cannon fire from inside and outside the city. Luckily, there was nobody around here searching for Luned. After all, why would they? None of them expected Urzhum to open its doors for her.

"I've never been here before," remarked Luned. "I heard there was an important battle here before."

Nonchalantly, Rayse indulged her curiosity, "The Church never made it further east than this. Urzhum held out against a week-long siege before their attackers had their supply chain cut by the League. When Salvar was divvied up between the barons after the war, Urzhum was granted semi-autonomous status." That makes it the perfect place for certain other entities to set up shop.

"How are we going to get in?"

"Just leave that to me."

The armored guard at the gate eyed them suspiciously with tired eyes, but made no move towards his scabbard. As Rayse walked up to him, he said, "I'm going to get something out of my bag, show it to you, and then you will open the gate."

This made the guard smile. Nobody told him that he would be opening the gate for some guy and his girlfriend, so as far as he was concerned, the gate was staying closed. Even the archers up on the walls cracked a few grins. However, after Rayse handed him a few documents, as well as a small object that he kept out of Luned's view, the guard's face turned pale.

"Yes sir," he said. "Welcome to Urzhum."

Luned blinked, unable to piece together what just happened. Who was this guy she was with, and what was with this city? She had to know the truth after they were inside. The city itself was not as spectacular as it appeared from the outside. The buildings were crammed together, and the streets were too small even for any wagons to pass through. Rayse had some business to take care of here, business which excluded the involvement of a nosy murderer.

"A bit down the street there's a sign that says 'Ulitza Nerzhev.' Take a right when you see that, and stop at house 22. The doorman will ask you for a passphrase, so tell him 'necklace'. It's a place I have around here, just in case the baron's men somehow get in and start snooping around the inns. Try not to wander around, I'll bring back supplies in a bit." With that, he left her on her own. He was certain that after seeing her walk in with him here, nobody would mess with her.

[Luned]

Something about wild Salvar made Luned agoraphobic after a while and the tight-knit architecture of Urzhum, though exaggerated in comparison, reminded her of the cozy streets and alleys of Radasanth. She felt cradled in stone as Rayse left her with instructions to find the safe house, parting with a nod of comprehension and gratitude as the man of questionable background departed to whatever mission he had in this strange city.

Right at Ulitza Nerzhev, Luned mouthed silently as she committed the words to memory. Number twenty-two. Necklace. Easy enough.

Easy also, however, was distraction. The scholar in Luned was absorbed in every detail of this foreign place, so different from anything she'd encountered in her travels thus far, and it was her first instinct to take out her journal for notes and sketching. She'd only walked a few paces before her hands absentmindedly drifted to her pockets, empty of anything practically useful, but filled to the brim with utensils and inks and paper just itching to be used.

A finger ran along the top of her journal where she'd deposited Valeras' business card so it wouldn't bend but, to her surprise, the end wasn't sticking out bookmark-fashion as expected. One could assume it simply slipped down beneath the pages during their long walk, but she knew what it really meant: Bleddyn had taken it.

The scribe hadn't consciously meant to send it to her mentor, but thanks to the teleportation device her battered journal doubled as, it was now in his hands. Usually he ignored scraps of paper and information that didn't intrigue him but the card was missing, and that meant it was interesting enough that he picked it up for a closer look. She imagined him with a sudden pang of homesickness leaning over his desk as he examined it through his spectacles, ancient eyes riddled with cataracts squinting at the fine type through dust-filtered lamplight. It would have been daytime when he saw it, but she knew he didn't bother to open the curtains when she wasn't around. How often did he forget dinner, too absorbed in his work as he attempted to keep tally of the world, because she wasn't there to remind him?

Luned stepped around an obstacle on the street as she walked, something gone unidentified in her blurry peripheral vision, as now she was focused on flipping through her journal to find any sign of Bleddyn's interest. Her thumb grazed a marginal note on a well-used page and it smudged the wet ink, causing her to stop in her tracks as she struggled to read her mentor's nigh-illegible arthritic chicken scratch, half obscured in a sepia smear.


"Sounds familiar."

A sigh of disappointment crept out; Bleddyn's economy of words was, as always, frustrating. He betrayed just enough to tell that he was probably looking into this alleged Lodenworks but there was nothing for Luned to go on to interpret Valeras' peculiarities in a useful way. If anything, it was discouraging; if her mentor had heard the names, chances are, it was a real business and he was a real person. The budding investigator in her had been effectively thwarted.

Defeated, Luned's focus returned to the present and she looked to the nearest sign which was labeled something completely unlike Ulitza Nerzhev, signaling that perhaps she'd walked too far while she was absorbed in the journal. She glanced back over her shoulder to see just how far she'd gone when her eyes met with a painfully familiar shade of green, resident on the uniform of a similarly familiar messenger.

It shouldn't have been a surprise, they had crossed paths with the fellow after all, but Luned couldn't help but let herself be seized by a bout of skittishness. Fortunately, deep shadow was plentiful in a narrow path between multistory buildings at the brink of dusk, so within a few casual steps the scribe felt a modicum safer.

The messenger was obviously unaware of her and was on his way out, leading a fresh horse toward the main gate. He was apparently being run ragged on whatever course his employer had sent him, and Luned could only speculate what it was. Where was he going now, home? Or had his mission only just begun?

Luned watched as he danced down the street, rolling his neck with a toss of blond hair over tight shoulders and jimmying his legs in one last effort to keep blood flowing before another long stretch in the saddle, then he disappeared around the corner.

Another node of ominous forest green blossomed in the corner of Luned's eye and she caught a fleeting glimpse of another uniformed person stepping down an alternate street. It wasn't a conscious decision to follow but she soon found herself tagging along behind, rounding each corner just in time to catch the last flourish of an evergreen cape slip behind gray stone. The inside of the city was as intimidatingly maze-like as one might imagine from its forbidding walls, each side street splitting into several and, in a settlement of dozens of roads, none seemed to run remotely parallel. The intricate weave of the green-clad path was dizzying, but the scribe was clever enough to use an old cheat from studying to maintain orientation and remember how to return to Twenty-Two. She memorized each twist and turn in a numerical pattern inspired by the contents of each corridor, finally using a skill she once thought utterly inapplicable to real life––

And then the game of chase came to an abrupt conclusion as Luned nearly careened into the back of the uniform she'd so obsessed over, the tall brunette who wore it having halted just around a bend. The scribe stopped herself just in time and stayed barely out of sight. This particular street was empty, almost barren; it had never seemed crowded as she walked, but in the narrow width of the pathways, even a small handful of people occupying a block might brush elbows. She couldn't decide if this was to her advantage in that no one was there to notice her strange behavior or otherwise.

A feminine voice spoke up from around the corner, her words concise and professional. "Durov's off to relay to Lord Essen."

The gruff reply was less business-like and Luned imagined it originating from a face as unattractive as its coarse words. "Calling him lord already? I suppose he earns a shot, fancied he could fill his pa's britches alright enough when he first came to–– What now?!" He was obviously interrupted by someone inside the building, from the sound of an urgent, muffled voice.

The gears in Luned's head spun out of control and she leaned with her shoulder against the cold stone. They were talking about Bernd. When he first what…?

[Rayse Valentino]

"I'm here for an inspection," Rayse said with authority, a self-satisfied grin on his face. He was standing in a dark warehouse, with only a few lamps hanging from the ceiling. A few men in hushed tones were moving boxes, but most of them were already loaded into wagons and covered with hay.

"Shut the fuck up!" said an incredulous voice from behind a stack of boxes. He wore a faded black suit with matching slacks, his short blond hair not doing a very good job hiding the white scar above his right eye. "The only thing that's getting inspected in here is my foot up your ass." He turned the corner and aggressively walked towards Rayse, an angry expression on his face, but when they met face to face, they put shook each other's hand then pulled their bodies in for a man-hug. "Didn't expect you back so soon, asshole."

Rayse pulled away, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket and lightning it, "How've you been, Dennis? Life in storage boring enough for you?" He put the cigarette in his mouth and took a long drag.

"The shipment is ready to go, although there's so many green-skins running around I'm having a hard time getting outta here."

"Don't tell me... they're looking for her here?"

"That Harthworth girl?" Dennis scratched his head. "Maybe. I don't know how she could've got in- speaking of which, how's your search going?"

Rayse grinned, "I brought her here with me. She bought the whole story."

Dennis didn't look as pleased as Rayse expected, "Oh... where is she now?"

"Back at one of my places around here. They won't find her, if they're really here for... What's that shitty look about?"

"There's rumors going around of an alternative bounty on her head. Somebody wants her more dead than alive."

Rayse blinked, "What? These are different people?"

Dennis nodded, "Apparently. Some mercs have been hired to take her out. I wouldn't leave her alone here if I were you, apparently The Company's contacts have been used to recruit them."

"Damn!" Rayse immediately turned around and starting heading out of the warehouse. He thought this city would be safe from the outside, but now he had to worry about the inside as well.

[Luned]

Luned waited for the conversation to continue but, to her disappointment, it was over and the pair had dispersed, leaving her alone on the street. The sudden quiet put her on edge and she traced her way back to where she'd started, a short trip that went surprisingly uneventfully. She felt secure as the arrival of dusk darkened the streets, no one noticing her as anything but part of the background she scurried with purpose, the quickness of her steps both from anxiety and eagerness to get out of the chilly evening air.

Soon enough the scribe was standing in front of Twenty-Two, just another nondescript addition to the endless row of connected stone buildings that seemed an extension of the wall itself, and she rapped the heavy wooden door with her knuckles. Silence. She wrapped again and then heard someone clear his throat from inside, his voice not as muffled as one might expect through such a solid entryway; she noticed a small, natural-looking gap in the woodwork and spoke through it. "Necklace."

There was a scrape of metal as a latch was undone and the door swung open, causing her to step to the edge of the step to avoid being knocked backward. The man inside reminded her of the people from the farm house they visited earlier, nondescript and impersonal. He stepped aside to let her into a cramped front hall that hosted a couple doors, including one which opened up into a sparsely furnished but comfortably sized room. Three of the internal walls were built with dark wood paneling, the fourth of Urzhum's signature gray masonry. In the center of that one was a lit fireplace, stoked small but inviting, and as Luned stepped toward it, the hall door closed behind her.

The scribe was alone now and it was rather strange, but considerably exhausted and glad to be indoors instead of out for another undoubtedly cold night, she dragged a chair up to the fire and sunk into it. The scribe had hoped to relish the golden warmth but found herself unable to relax, her fingers fanning pages on the corner of her journal as she sat and clutched it to herself. She hadn't even realized she still had it out.

Simply to refresh her mind, or perhaps just for something to do, Luned opened the small leather cover and flipped through a few pages. She didn't want to think about Bernd and whatever it was he had been up to. She didn't like to think of him as the scheming type. But maybe that was just a symptom of realizing that perhaps she'd been too trusting, making assumptions about the boy who wasn't as young or innocent as he seemed.

Fresh ink gleamed in the firelight and she halted, lifting the book to read it better. Bleddyn had appended his earlier message.


"Lodenworks was a smithy, went belly up a few years back."

Luned frowned. She already knew there was something up with Valeras, but this only confirmed her suspicions. A sick feeling churned in her stomach; why would someone lie to her, but still help her? Unless he wasn't helping her at all. Unless… shit.

What if he was no different from the green-clad guards? What if whoever employed him, whatever gave him all these connections to seedy hideouts and information, wanted something to do with her? Which fate would be worse?

Then the hallway door creaked open and there was Rayse, appearing his usual collected self with just a touch of color in the cheeks from rushing, but no other sign of his flustered state. Something about him seemed to decompress as he saw her sitting there and Luned closed her journal, holding it against her chest under her crossed arms in a subconsciously protective motion.

The scribe managed to speak, hoping to cover up her distressed state as she huddled in front of the fire, her posture as withdrawn as it appeared desperate for warmth. "Did you get them? … The supplies?"

[Luned]

Rayse cut to the chase. "Did anyone follow you or see you come in here?"

Luned shook her head. "Aside from the doorman, I don't think so. Is something wrong?"

"I want to know what you did, why The goddess-damned Company wants you dead." Rayse closed the door but remained standing, his height imposing as the scribe sank further back into her chair. The news obviously surprised her.

"… Dead? Wait, how do you know that, Valeras?" Her brows furrowed in frustration, essentially accusing him of his deceit.

Rayse sighed, avoiding the hook and circling back to his initial concern. "Because I have connections. The same reason they let me into Urzhum, a Company town. Tell me the truth, or they can have you before I'm pegged as an accomplice."

Luned frowned and she clenched the journal in her fingers until her knuckles turned white. She spoke matter-of-factly, but her voice was heavy with guilt. "The truth? Fine. I'm not a murderer, at least not in a literal sense, but I might as well be. I was there, it was all my fault, and the fact that I didn't do any of it with my own hands doesn't excuse that."

The young man shook his head. "The prime suspect in a high-profile murder case is wanted dead. That's not revenge nor justice. That means you know something that you shouldn't know. Do you understand now? You're not getting to Tirel unless I know who's behind this, what I'm up against."

At this point, Luned felt caged in; she still didn't trust Rayse but she was stuck here with him, and there was still that nagging issue with Bernd which seemed to fit this bizarre turn of events and was itching to be spoken. She turned to look at the fire as if it was important for some reason, buying herself a moment to think, and Rayse stepped up beside her.

"Out with it," he urged.

With a sigh, Luned told the story as concisely as possible. "I sold some ink to a squire… a squire in that green. Later he shows up with a couple brutes who ended up taking in both me and two brothers who tried to help me escape them. It turns out the squire's boss screwed over Lord Essen with a contract, don't know what, and he wanted me to teach his guy what I do before he sent me off to whatever fate he had planned.

"Well, it turns out the squire was actually Essen's young son, Bernd. I didn't think it was strange at the time that he'd worked for his father's competition, I figured maybe that was some strategy on Essen's part? Anyhow, I used Bernd to get the brothers who helped me out of the dungeon, but while we were there…"

Luned paused and stared blankly into the fire for a moment, as if she couldn't find the correct words.

"… There was an accident. Bernd killed the Warden because I'd drugged him and he wasn't in his right mind. Anyhow, we released the brothers, and they made a plan so all three of us could escape. I was to get Essen alone so they could take him as a hostage.

"All went as planned until the four of us were in the bedroom –– the brothers, Essen, and me. His daughter Roxanna, his first heir, showed up, and she killed him." Luned's hand unconsciously raised to rest against her neck where she'd almost met her own end but she didn't hesitate in speaking, afraid that if she slowed the story for dramatic effect that she'd remember too many details. She was afraid to remember and her wavering voice showed it.

"She figured it was a good idea, I guess. He was a monster, he deserved it, and it was so convenient that she could pin it on us. The brothers and I start to leave with her as our new hostage when Bernd shows back up, and he still seemed to be messed up from the drugs. We ended up taking him, too.

"On the way down, one of the brothers said we had to release the prisoners in the dungeon, the poor souls who'd been rotting away for who knew how long. Weren't even humans anymore. Bernd and I split off from the group to get horses, and it was then that he told me he'd only help if I made sure Roxanna was dead. I was scared, and I thought he was out of his mind –– I agreed, just because I owed the brothers so much.

"They had Roxanna tied to a tree when we got out to meet them. I gave them the horses and told them to go, then I sent Bernd to make sure no one had followed us. And there she was… bound, like she'd been prepared just for the occasion. But I couldn't do it, and I stood there like a blubbering ninny until the freed prisoners came running toward us in the forest, guards chasing them down like animals with arrows.

"I didn't know what to do, so I ran. Roxanna was hit at least once, the guards didn't know she was out there, so they must've mistaken her for one of the prisoners… I could've untied her, but I didn't."

When the story was summarized that way, it was immediately obvious that there was something amiss with Bernd, and Rayse caught it. "I see," was his short answer as he pulled out a fresh cigarette.

"When we got here, I didn't come here right away. I, uh… went for a walk." Luned volunteered this information at the risk of angering Rayse, but he only gave her a sidelong glance as he took a drag, so she continued. "The messenger we saw is apparently on his way to relay something to Lord Essen. That is, the new Lord Essen –– Bernd. I overheard someone saying something peculiar, that Bernd went to someone for something before that all happened. I know that's vague, but at least one of the people talking was in those colors.

"At first I thought the notion was silly, but I think Bernd wasn't working for his father under someone else… but, rather, he committed treason against his own family in favor of this other guy. I'm sure they're looking for the brothers, too, but they're better than I am at this sort of thing… I'm sure they're out of harm's way. I hope. I don't know."

[Rayse Valentino]

Rayse scratched his head, trying to piece together the story he just heard. For one thing, he wasn't sure whether or not to believe it at all, but he couldn't figure out what incentive Luned would have for lying. In any case, he sincerely believed that she wasn't the culprit behind the deaths.

He gave her a sideways glance and said, "I suppose it would be shameful if the truth of the matter came out... although something still doesn't add up. Why would The Company be involved?" The qustion was more to himself than her. There was also something in her story that she was vague about. "Who is this boss guy you mentioned? The one who Bernd worked for."

She shook her head, "I told you all I know. Bernd was in those colors we keep seeing when we first met and he bought my ink, and the ink was the source of all that trouble. Bernd's old employer screwed over his father, but I don't know how, or who he is."

"Those are boyar colors. The Council uses a particular color scheme, and while each barony retains its own levies and retinue, some are sent in order for the country to have a top-level standing army. They are also used to mitigate disputes within baronies that can't be solved internally. So, you're telling me Bernd worked for the boyars at the time." Rayse sighed. "Of course, the bureaucracy is such that he could've been working with virtually anyone at the capitol, although this gives me a starting point."

"Like I said," Luned spoke up. "Some of the green-clothed men were talking about Essen here. I still don't understand- why would they want me dead? Back when we first met, it didn't look like they were going to kill me."

"I don't know. It's likely that someone is expending every possible resource, both legitimate and illegitimate, to get you. I still don't understand what you know that's so valuable."

"Bernd was pretty out of it when we were together, maybe he simply doesn't know if he told me too much while under the influence. Maybe they're over-reacting."

"Or maybe you know something that you're not even yet aware of." Rayse's frustration was evident on his sour expression. "Against my better judgement, I'm going to believe you." It was a phrase that was met with a indignant glare. "Sign this contract, and I'll get you to Corone." He produced a silvery sheet of paper from a carefully-wrapped binder in his traveling bag, and gave her a special pencil whose writing could not be erased.

"Alright," she sighed. At this point, she didn't even have the energy left to complain. The contract was a generic writ of rendering service, which just meant she owed him something. As she signed it, she felt a weird pulling sensation from the paper, as if it was drawing her into it, but it subsided after a second.

"I'm going out," he announced suddenly after she wrote her name, snatching the paper up and sticking it back into his bag. If the boyars are here, then they're working with somebody inside The Company on this. More importantly, if they think you're here, then they think you're working with a different element of The Company. Namely me, of course. But how would they know that? Luned was a bit taken back by the sudden announcement, but before she could repeat her initial inquiry about the supplies, he slammed the door behind him.

Smoke trailed by his face as he walked back outside, the night sky high above the gas lights of the street. Somebody ratted him out, and to rat out the contractor was a death sentence.

[Rayse Valentino]

"Was she there?" asked Dennis. They were both back in the dimly-lit warehouse, Rayse looking more apprehensive than last time.

"Yeah, but I'm not sure for how long," Rayse replied with a wispy pillar of smoke rising from his lips.

"If you think she might run, why did you leave her alone?"

"I can track her. Either way, I didn't come here for that. The Council's minions in town- they're here for her, aren't they? Why would they think she was here?"

Dennis sighed, "Your guess is as good as mine, man. They must've heard she was coming here."

"How? I didn't know I was coming here until I talked... to..." His voice trailed off.

"What's wrong?"

"This is bad. I don't think those guys I talked to back at the potato farmhouse were informants. The person in The Company working with the boyars must've switched them. I should've known something was up when I saw them!"

"It gets worse," Dennis said with furled brows. "The city's under lockdown. They're not letting anyone out right now."

"Are you serious?"

"They're onto you, man. Do you think The Family is involved?"

"No way, this shit is way below them. If this was such a big deal to them, they'd just send Prince or another one of their top men. And believe me- they would've found her long before I did."

Dennis put up his hands, "Alright alright, but what are you gonna do now? Is she really worth all this trouble?"

"We've been looking for someone that could make perfect forgeries- that even defied magical scrying- for months, hell I've been looking for one for years. I knew about the art in Corone for a long time, but couldn't find any practitioners. There's a couple that did magical ink but not the forgeries. I would never have to track down fugitives again!" There was another reason as well. He got off on the thrill of the situation. To think that such a little girl would be at the center of such a controversy, and he had a unique opportunity to piss off virtually everyone without them knowing it was him.

"I must admit it would be quite the game-changer for our business. Getting around the magical forgery-prevention in Corone for all those unused private properties in Radasanth would give us a veritable headquarters."

Rayse cleared his throat, "Anyway, I need to get her out of here. What I need from you is to investigate both Essen and the boyars and see what turns up."

"You don't want me looking into who is involved in The Company?"

"I'll handle that. I have a feeling they'll show themselves sooner or later."

[Luned]

And so Luned was alone in the room again, the warm glow of the fire no longer as welcoming as before, and her fingers felt numb with anxiety as they hovered near the flames. Rayse was obviously concerned about the things that worried her, but a bad feeling was eating a hole in her stomach –– or was that just hunger? –– and it weighted the room as a fog of uncertainty and unease.

Even if the scribe wanted to leave, she knew she was stuck at least temporarily. The walls were guarded enough that she had little chance of slipping out; splitting off from Rayse right now meant finding a way to hide from him as well as cover up her identity, and while she liked to think of herself as a clever sort, she knew that was a tall order, even for someone as resourceful and educated as herself. If only she had some of Resolve's more physical skills…

As Luned dwelled on the issue, her thoughts were interrupted by conversation at the door. Two male voices spoke lowland muffled, and before she considered what she was doing she had crept out of her seat and was edging toward the back of the room. There were two narrow doors: the first led to a closet, much to her disappointment, and the second opened into what appeared to be a kitchen but was cold and dusty from lack of regular use. She stepped in, closed that door behind her and willed herself to relax as she leaned against it, looking over this new space as her eyes adjusted to the low light that fell in through the cracks in the door behind her and one to the left, which she assumed led to a more regularly used part of the building. At the far end was another door which appeared to lead outside, as it was heavily bolted from the inside to maintain the tight security Valeras' alleged friends had on the place.

There was a distant creak of hinges as the main door opened into the room she'd just vacated and as she deposited her journal safely in her pocket, she overheard voices. They were clearer through this door than the last, gaps in the grain allowing her even to peek in and see their shadows stand ominously in front of the fireplace.

"Where is she?" one man asked gruffly.

"She didn't leave with him," the other shrugged.

And that was all it took for Luned to realize the situation and beeline for the bolted door across the dark kitchen. She fumbled in the dark to undo latches, trying to be quiet, but in her hurriedness there was no way to avoid the clattering of metal.

The voices hushed and she heard a board creak. Giving up any semblance of stealth, Luned heaved the hefty bar up from its position across the door and dropped it on the floor thanks to hands clumsy with panic. At the loud sound they burst in and she resisted the urge to stare like a deer in headlights at the intruders, instead yanking the door open and running out into the brisk night. They were close behind her and pursued, more audibly annoyed than concerned she might actually get away.

"There's nowhere to go," the gruff man warned her with exasperation, his loud voice echoing off the stone walls of the alleyway as Luned made a break for it. Her boots fell hard on the stone pavement of the streets as she ran and mingled with the quickening pace of her heartbeat, ringing in her ears and disorienting her as she took every twist possible in flight. Harder footsteps followed her own and wove their way through the streets and alleys behind her.

If Luned had any breath left she would've cursed, the frigid, dry air whistling in and out of her burning lungs as she searched for a way to lose the men. She couldn't outrun them, not with her current lack of energy, but as she turned a corner, she spotted what could be a lifesaver: a scraggly old evergreen, a rarity inside the city, growing next to a low roof.

It was the first time Luned was grateful to have lost her toolbox as she swiftly climbed the tree, her lessened burden making it easy as feet and hands sought sturdy limbs with confident grace on her way up. She was on the roof by the time the pursuers rounded the last corner and found her, but at that point she was finding her way onto the main rooftops above. That was an advantage in a maze-like city of stone buildings all built tightly together; she quickly gained access to the highest immediate point and booked it away from the men as quickly as she dared, taking care to find the shallowest inclines and pick her way as cautiously as possible under the pressure.

This only felt like an advantage for a short time, unfortunately. The men didn't follow though, from the rage in the shouts she left behind, they were certainly attempting. The walls surrounding the city were taller than the buildings in some parts and Luned realized it wouldn't take much to get noticed; while they were likely watching the outside of the gates, the hollering from her pursuers might garner some attention. After a minute or two Luned found a ledge just low enough to be bathed in deep shadow, a crook between wedge-shaped buildings, and she ducked in for a breather. From here she had view of a street, empty at this time of night, as well as a vantage point for some of the surrounding rooftops in case she was followed. The moon was just full enough that it shone like a lantern in the sky, illuminating the city save some scattered patches of inky blackness in the nooks and crannies of the architecture, refuges like the one Luned had found. The stars blinked down on her like a thousand eyes and she hoped no one was watching, obscured in darkness as she, to give her hiding place away.

With a sigh the scribe shrunk into the tight corner, huddling down against the shingles and drawing her knees up to her chest. Frosty wind bit at her skin and she buried her face into her skirt, wedging her quickly numbing fingers under her arms. "Shit," she finally had the breath to whisper hoarsely, conscious reasoning returning as panic subsided into the miserable realization that she was royally screwed.

She had supposed that Valeras fellow needed her out of others' hands for one reason or another, enough to at least keep her out of harm's way while they were still in the city, but she was apparently wrong. He turned me in, she sighed internally, regretting again ever coming to Salvar. Whatever obligation he had in regards to her, it wasn't worth dealing with The Company, and he'd given her up.

[Rayse Valentino]

As Rayse walked toward the room he kept Luned in, holding in one arm the bag of supplies for the trip, the view of the opening made him stop in his tracks. The door was wide open. He ran toward the room and jumped inside, his eyes darting back and forth rapidly for any sign of her. It was then that he noticed the back door was also open. Why open both doors if she was going to escape? He looked around the room and noticed that several of the pots and pans that were on the table were knocked over. He had a suspicion, but there was only one way to investigate. Dropping the bag onto the table with various breads and fruits spilling out, he ran back out of the room and down the hall, meeting with the doorman again.

"Did someone come in here just now?"

The doorman gave him a sideways glance, "As you should know sir, that is privileged information."

That was all the hinting Rayse needed as he grabbed the man's collar and pressed him up against the wall. His teeth gnashed the cigarette butt in his mouth, and in his eyes was a fire that threatened to burn everything down, "Don't fuck with me! The assholes you just let in raided my place! Even you should understand how unacceptable that is to The Company! Who were they?!"

"I-I don't know!" the man stammered out, his hands trying to peel Rayse off his throat.

Rayse pressed harder, "What did they look like?"

"I couldn't get a good luck at them, sir!"

There was a momentary hesitation before Rayse's next words, but there was one more clue he could ask about, "What password did they use?"

This time, he got somewhere, "T-Tyray! They said 'Tyray'!"

Rayse let go, letting the man slide down to the floor, "You're not lying, are you?"

"N-no, sir! I heard them clearly! We have rooms for that password here."

Tyray. The number of people who know the meaning behind that password could fit inside the palm of his hand. But, the implications were monstrous. Was The Family really involved in this? It couldn't be true, they would never do the things he saw so far, and yet they were invoking the name of one of The Family's members. Maybe it was just a password, maybe it was one of Tyray's underlings gone rogue. Either way, he was now officially in over his head. He told the doorman to not utter a word to anyone about this or else he'd slit his throat, and ran back to the room.

Despite the danger, Rayse couldn't feel more exhilarated. As much as he hated being in situations out of his control, the idea of being in so much danger gave him no pause. It represented a challenge to him, one that he felt obliged to pursue. In any case, if he let them have her than he would never know who was behind all this. Someone willing to break ranks this much posed a long-term problem to his business ventures. He reached into his traveling bag and pulled out the contract Luned signed. Unbeknownst to her, the contract was written on paper that allowed the holder to feel his way to whoever wrote on it, no matter how far away they were. His insistence on paper contracts in a society of verbal agreements earned him a notorious reputation, but when those who tried to skirt their responsibilities were found by him no matter where they fled, people started to take his idiosyncrasies seriously.

Letting the contract guide him, he ran through the back exit and pursued the girl. Whoever these guys were, they wanted her dead. The only reason he knew she was still alive was because the paper wouldn't work if she was dead.

[Luned]

The intermission wasn't a long one. Luned only had a few short minutes to catch her breath and compose herself before, from her high vantage point, she noticed something stirring against the dark stone grid of the street. She didn't recognize Rayse right away as his impatiently scouring figure took some time to come into detail from three stories up, but as soon as it paused with the tell-tale flicker of a cigarette being lit, she knew.

Oh, come on, Luned couldn't help but think in exasperation. She sank as far back into the corner as she could, still safely out of sight in the heavy shadow of a gable, and sighed, her breath carried away silently in the frosty wind. At this point her nose, ears and fingers were red and numb from exposure, and though she was lucky this was one of Salvar's milder seasons, she was quite ready for this whole ordeal to be over with.

Rayse slowed directly below her hiding place, eyes scanning the tightly shuttered windows of the building more closely than the others. It was then Luned kicked herself for signing that contract; she knew very well what tricks could be played with enchantments and tracking must have been part of the agreement. She wasn't too proud, however, to stash away a note to learn that particular spell in the back of her mind, if she ever made it back to Radasanth to continue her scholarship.

A powerful chill racked her spine and she closed her eyes for a moment, willing the illusion of warmth. It didn't work. When Luned opened her eyes again and blinked away spots of tiredness there was a new glow, hot and gold against the gloomy gray, and as it came into focus, she saw men creeping like spiders from around a bend bearing torches. They glinted off the glass panes along the street, dozens of tiny stars, and the brightness of the tiny suns they carried made it difficult to focus. She squinted, attempting to make out the number of the encroaching party –– three? Four? She rubbed her eyes. And where was Rayse? Leaning forward just barely, she could no longer find him below, though from her position the edge of the roof obscured at least a couple feet of pavement at the building's doorstep.

Luned looked back to the party of men; one had a ladder. They split up, one taking the streets, another disappearing into an alley across the way before the spark of his torch appeared on the rooftop almost on level with herself. She could've cried, but instead she took a deep breath, gathered what energy and courage she had left, and crept from her hiding place.

Having tiptoed up and around the gable the scribe took a moment to survey the street once more and, to her dismay, noticed at least two dancing emblems of fire dotting the rooftops in the distance. How many were there? She didn't care to find out. She also hoped these individuals were operating independently from the guards who undoubtedly lined the city's outer wall at better vantages than she. Realizing her predicament, she got moving.

Luned reached the edge of the roof of the building next door and realized this path was a dead end and cursed the city's maze-like architecture. She was out in the open here, vulnerable, a rabbit about to be swept up by some hawk.

She needed to get back down to the streets. She couldn't afford what might happen if the guards noticed her creeping around up here.

The scribe climbed back across the roof to find another path and soon enough discovered one, a successive drop in a roof which ended in a landing that formed the top of what appeared to be a stable. It was partially shadowed, and therefore inviting. She began to climb down, step by slow step…

And then she slipped on a loose shingle. She fell backwards but caught herself before succumbing to a roll on the steep incline, but the offending object lacked such sense and slid recklessly down until it ricocheted off the edge of the roof and was flung with a clatter onto the ground.

Knowing it was risky but at this point simply wishing to find shelter from the wind, Luned finished her descent and dropped with weary grace on the ground below.

[Rayse Valentino]

The spherical glow of the torches came into view once again for the scribe, sending her into a shuffle to find a safe haven. Her feet took her inside the only source of shelter around her, the empty stable. Inside, she ran through the dark hall, surrounded by empty horse stalls. She stopped in shock when a figure came into view, the only light on him at the tip of his cigarette. Her frightful glare caused apprehension between the two, but there was no time to talk about it, as from behind her several crossbows took aim at her back.

The stalls were too high to jump over, and Rayse was in the way, but in her moment of panic she felt a hand on her shoulder and her vision was covered by flames. She felt like she entered a bright world of fire, her eyes squinting and her mouth opening for what would've been a scream if the experience had not ended as soon as it started, her knees nearly buckling under her. Rayse was now between her and her other pursuers, and the crossbow bolts were embedded into various stalls. It was like she was momentarily turned into fire to avoid the bolts.

"How the hell did we miss?!" one of them wondered, readying another bolt for fire.

"Who the hell is that with her?" asked another.

"Wait, I recognize that guy... I saw him around some of The Company places, he's Rayse Valentino!" Rayse couldn't see the two clearly even even with the light of the torch that a third man was carrying, but he could guess that they were mercenaries who were usually on The Company's payroll. "Get out of the way, man! That girl has to go."

"And if I don't?"

"You got a death wish, pal? What's she to you?"

Rayse reached into his pocket, snapping his fingers and pulling out his hand with an object enclosed in his palm, "A business partner." He threw the whiskey-based mini-molotov at the men, the stalls being illuminated in the light of the fiery explosion. All three of the men screamed in agony, their burning bodies flailing around before falling to the ground. If they wanted to live, they shouldn't have fucking recognized me.

He looked back at Luned, but she was gone. Spitting out his cigarette, he broke into a sprint and ran out of the stable, barely catching sight of her ducking into an alley. He chased after her, knowing that he had to catch her before more of those goons showed up. He had no choice but to turn his body into trailing wisps of flames, which flew towards Luned and reformed his body right behind her. He swung his arm around her neck and nearly clothes-lined her as she ran into the inside of his elbow.

"Let go!" she screamed.

"Shut up! They'll hear you!" Rayse took his arm off, much to Luned's surprise. "I don't know how they found you, but I'm not goddess-damned responsible."

She turned around and pointed her finger at him, "Who are you? Who are you really?"

"I'm someone who wants you in Corone. They're people who want you dead. I hope you can tell the difference by now."

"Then what was that stuff about artifacts? The business deal? Were those all lies?"

"Names, places, none of those things matter. In business however, my words are a contract. I wasn't lying when I said I wanted your abilities, and I have no plans to keep you captive. Is that enough?"

"How am I supposed to trust any of that?"

"You could either trust it or go back out there on your own. I'll never get you out of this goddess-forsaken city if you're resisting." Luned's quick breaths were starting to slow down now, and she pressed a palm against her head in frustration. Rayse took this as a sign of compliance, "Those guys were right about my name, although I'm pretty sure they won't be telling anyone about it. Let's go- we're getting out of the open."

[Luned]

Dennis was sitting down to a late dinner, relaxing with his feet up on the cluttered warehouse office desk, when unexpected company arrived. Rayse let himself in and was followed begrudgingly by a frumpy, shivering scribe, her crossed arms enough body language to clue him into the gist of things.

"You brought her here? Great," Dennis greeted his comrade, a touch of sarcasm evident as he bit into an apple.

"We need to get out," Rayse said, but from the way he paced and compulsively lit a cigarette, he was thinking more out loud than replying.

Luned's posture relaxed some in the warmer sanctity of the warehouse and she rubbed her arms, encouraging circulation. "We can't just leave the same way we came in?"

"City's on lockdown," Rayse exhaled bruskly through a cloud of smoke. Dennis crunched through the rest of his apple, spectator to the deliberation.

"Well, what did you use to get us in?"

"A writ of assistance."

"So, I'll make a new one."

"We can't just stroll up to the gate again." As Rayse spoke he glanced over to Dennis, who was still reclined in his seat in a feeble attempt to enjoy a relaxing meal. The man immediately knew what he was asking without the exchange of words and gave a weary shrug of submission. Then Rayse looked back to Luned. "What do you need?"

She dug through her pockets and extracted a few small bottles of ink, a couple pocket-sized bound volumes, and a handful of metal nibs and fine brushes, all lined precisely on the edge of the desk as she took inventory. If only I had my toolbox, she couldn't help but think before shrugging off useless regret. "Paper. References."

Dennis dragged his boots off the top of the desk and looked through some drawers, obliging the requested writing surface, while Rayse produced the documents from earlier. Luned skimmed them, running her finger over seals and analyzing signatures. "I'll manage. I just need some time."

Rayse nodded. "Let's just change the wording up a bit, reference some different names. Here." He grabbed a pen and jotted down some notes for document edits on a spare piece of paper.

Soon the scribe was poring over her work and Rayse and Dennis convened off to the side. "Yeah, we've got a spare wagon. C'mon, she'll be fine here." They went into the open warehouse, empty of laborers after the last shipment was handled; Dennis had only some paperwork to finish, but he had a feeling this might be a long night when Rayse showed up earlier. "I better get overtime for this," he commented as he set about preparing their escape vehicle.

By the time they rounded up an unassuming front, crates of supplies creating a fortress inside of which the fugitives would lurk, Luned had turned the office upside down. Dennis gawked in astonishment at the array of vessels that she had reappropriated into mixing palettes and immediately mourned for his crystal tumbler, now filled with an unappetizing and chunky-looking sepia ink. "Sorry," she frowned, noticing his dismay. "I needed to match the hue on the seal. It's just rust, it'll wash out just fine."

The surface of the desk was littered with pieces of scrap paper with practice signatures and color tests, and the scribe herself was covered in smudges of ink from the elbows down, but the freshly minted documents were pristine. As Rayse scrutinized them, original next to reproduction, Luned had to add, "I could've done better if I had all my supplies, but it should pass. The difference will be more obvious in daylight, though, so we should aim to make it out by dawn."

[Rayse Valentino]

Lead by two horses, the wagon pulled up to the city gates, where a new guard stood with a grimace on his face.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked. "Nobody's getting in or out."

Behind the reigns, a hooded Dennis looked up at the gate guard, "Says who? I'm on a tight schedule here, pal." He pointed to the convoy of wagons behind him.

"None of your damn business, and you know it's important because if I was doing this without proper authorization, I'd be in deep shit."

Dennis sighed, hopping off his seat and walking up to the guard with a document in his hand, "Is this enough authorization for you?" Incredulous, the guard looked at the document, his glare slowly fading as he scanned the page down to the signature on the bottom.

"I'll have to verify this with my superiors. Do you have it?"

"Please do." Dennis handed him a small object with the writ.

After a tense few minutes where Dennis stood impatiently while the guard wandered off with the writ of assistance, he received the document and object back from the guard, who had a reluctant look of belief on his face.

"You're free to go." The gates opened, and for now it looked like the plan succeeded.

They had to keep the operation looking legitimate for a few miles, but after the sun started to come back up, Dennis stopped the convoy and let Rayse and Luned out.

Rayse pulled a cigarette out of the pack in his pocket and lit it with the bottom of his shoe, "Looks like it worked. At least this means The Family itself isn't responsible for all this, otherwise our forgery wouldn't have been worth shit."

"Here," Dennis said while giving Rayse back the object, once again in a way that Luned couldn't see.

"What is that?" she asked.

"A piece of magicide. It was discovered recently to be able to detect forgeries, except yours of course." Rayse neglected to mention its combat applications, but that wasn't a relevant detail right now.

"Can I see it?"

After this mess, likely magicide wouldn't be a reliable way of discerning forgeries, so he figured there was no point to holding onto it any longer, anyhow. He gave her the rock-looking object.

"This is where we part ways," Dennis said. "I'm heading South. You guys keep going East and you'll reach Tirel soon enough."

Rayse saluted him, "See you later, Dennis."

They had enough supplies to last them the trip, although the fatigue from lack of sleep was starting to get to them. Luned dozed off during the wagon ride, but Rayse couldn't stop thinking about who was responsible for this.

[Luned]

This leg of the voyage wasn't pleasant by any means, but between the luxuries of a wagon, food, and a dose of shut-eye, Luned was feeling a mite more optimistic about life than before sunrise. She wasn't naive enough to hope Tirel would be any easier than the last city, but at least it was the homestretch. As she stared off into the distance, blinking the bright, overcast sky into focus after waking from a doze, she almost thought she glimpsed the light at the end of the tunnel.

The scribe rustled to life from under a heavy wool blanket at one end of the bench, Rayse at the other as he tended to the reins. He noticed as she looked around, surveying the patchy farm they were slowly passing, and took a slow drag from his cigarette before speaking. "We're making good time," he exhaled through a mix of condensed breath and smoke.

The road around them was open and empty, save a stray, aged cow that was gnawing remnants of frostbitten grass on the shoulder. Luned smoothed her hair and sat up, taking a deep breath of the cool air. It wasn't too unbearable in daylight, or maybe she was just used to it by now. "Has it been this quiet all morning?"

Rayse nodded. "Surprisingly."

"Hmm." A few pensive minutes passed and Luned looked back to the man next to her. "Would you like a break? I can take over for a bit if you'd like to rest."

Without a word Rayse handed over the reins, Luned accepting them with chilly fingers. She buried her hands back inside the warm confines of her gray blanket, holding them in her lap.

"It's a straight shot from here, just keep an eye out for other travelers. We should be fine with that writ, but can't be too careful." Rayse leaned back to finish the rest of his cigarette, not intending to sleep as she had, but couldn't help himself from letting his eyes rest a bit.

Luned noticed Rayse allow himself to decompress, tired eyes fluttering with deep thought, and she couldn't help but compare him to a wary shark, even at rest ever-watchful. It was both intriguing and discomfiting, as well as a reminder that she couldn't let herself get too comfortable in the company of an individual with multiple identities and questionable connections.

When she was satisfied that he wasn't paying any attention to her, she hooked the reins in front of her and pulled her journal out of her pocket with the stub of a pencil. It appeared that Bleddyn was concerned about her, as a new question mark glinted in fresh ink below their last correspondence. There was also some money; Luned almost dropped the coins as they slipped out of the pages, but caught them with some modicum of stealth and slipped them into her pocket. From there she wrote a return message.


Catching a ship home from Tirel with a Rayse Valentino.

She left it at that, figuring if this shady character was someone worth concerning herself over anymore than was already established, Bleddyn would let her know. For now, however, she turned her attention to something else, and returned the journal to her pocket to retrieve a second, smaller book.

It was bound in faded red leather, decades of misuse evident on its marred cover, but the ornately sewn binding in multicolored, jewel-toned thread laid testament to its true identity as the long-lost masterpiece of some forgotten scribe. It had lived in Luned's pocket for a week now and she hadn't dared look inside, wondering whether it was worth the trouble that began her downward spiral in Salvar or not.

With a few slow, deep breaths she took her time admiring the binding, pale fingers brushing grime from the ornamental pattern. The thread was definitely silk, and the leather was of an impeccable quality she had yet to see in her own workshop. Lacking the standard courtesy of a title, it intimidated her.

After quiet deliberation and a glance over to Rayse, who was currently awake but resting his eyes as the remains of his cigarette smoldered at the filter between his lips, Luned peeked at the first page. It stuck a bit and she cautiously pried it apart to reveal the inside cover in beautiful marbled paper. The contents were cream-colored pages on heavy stock and foxed from mistreatment, and a bookplate was pasted onto the first page. Atypically, it contained both the title and the original ownership, both in antiquated forms of High Elven.


The Last Bequest of an Old Man
Property of Antyr Aneised
Scribe of Rylrae of Raiaera
Our Year of Strength 1313

Luned's thumb traced the ancient cursive and she couldn't believe she was holding something nigh 500 years old. The next page contained a dedication, though it was visually styled as an epitaph.


This is the gift of a dying scholar to future generations of inquisitive minds.
Balance this knowledge with reason or you will find yourself in the darkest of depths with no star to guide you home.

This twist piqued Luned's interest past the point of no return and she dove into the text, fine calligraphy and painstaking illustrations remarkably clear even after centuries of age. It was part memoir, part grimoire, and if the young scribe's imperfect knowledge of old Elven served her right, it taught a concept her mentor would never dare touch upon in her training. Her fingers trembled as she leafed through the pages, yet unaware of the true implications of such an ability, reason clouded with only the thought that once she consumed this text, she would never be the damsel in distress ever again.

[Rayse Valentino]

"I think I see it," Luned said. After receiving no response, she looked back. "Rayse?" The cigarette butt was lying on the floor, and his eyes were closed.

"Huh?" he suddenly shot up. "Something happened?"

"We're here," she replied.

He walked over to the front and saw the walls of Tirel, "I see. I'll take over now." Luned repositioned herself and let Rayse take the reigns.

As they pulled up to the gate guard, Rayse handed him the writ and the gates opened shortly. Tirel was a trading town and port city, so there were few restrictions to get into the city. Most known traders simply had to state their names and business. As the wagon rolled in, they saw the old wooden houses that littered both sides of the street. What used to be homes for fishermen were now inns, pubs, and tool stores. First thing on the Contractor's agenda was depositing the wagon in one of his safe houses, then escorting Luned to the port where he already bribed a fisherman to take her to Corone.

Tirel was not always the most bustling city on the Eastern Salvaran coast. Due to the discovery of the Windbrisk Current, Salvaran sailors were able to ride it to Corone and back in a fraction of the time it took normally. The Windbrisk allowed a trade union to be formed between the two countries, bypassing war-torn Raiaera entirely. Tirel was central to the power conflict emerging in The Council. Rubbing his eyes, Rayse led the wagon down the road.

With a deep breath, he said, "Looks like we're almost ther-" BOOM! Long, sharp icicles pierced through the canopy of the wagon. A veritable rain of ice obliterated the wagon in seconds, causing screams from nearby onlookers. A pile of dust was kicked up to obscure the damage, but when it cleared all that was left was an icy wreckage.

In an alley nearby, Rayse's breathing was erratic as he held an equally-shocked Luned by her hand. His reflexes had kicked in and allowed him to use his fiery abilities to transport them to safety.

Luned looked at what used to be a wagon and her eyes were racing back and forth. This wasn't the first time her vision turned yellow and red and she found herself someplace else. It wasn't the first time it involved contact with Rayse. She was starting to think he wasn't quite human. "What's going on?!"

"Shut up," Rayse shot back. "We're running. Now."