Priority Target: Emien Harthworth.

[Silence Sei]

The air of Salvar was frigid, enough to require the Mystic to bundle himself up heavily. Even with the two sweaters (white and red, in the order they were put on), fur jacket, three pairs of green gloves, and gray sweat pants on over his regular pants, Sei Orlouge had the chills. Goosebumps covered his entire frame, and he swore that he could feel shivers all the way into his spine. Despite the fact that the night was freezing even for winter, Sei knew he had to push on. He had a mission he had to accomplish.

He had lost his war for the soul of Corone, though he had managed to liberate the southern portion of the continent. The Ixian Knights had to now rebuild, a process that was better handled for people able bodied in such crafts. Sei knew that as long as his castle stayed in the forest of Concordia, that it would become a gigantic target for his enemies, which now included the Corone Empire. Every night he went to sleep, he thought about the possibility of a surprise attack, much like the Cult of Blessed Torture had done months before. He could no longer risk waging a war on two fronts.

He had to cut one snake’s head off in order to fight the other with solid footing.

He trudged through the deep snow, each step serving to envelope his legs right up to his knees. Walking through what was left of Knife’s Edge, the mute felt as though such a tragedy could have been avoided. He could feel the broken pavement under his feet. His eyes wandered around, taking in all the destroyed homes, the abandoned business, and bones that had surely once been part of a person. War always took its toll on the innocent people most of all, which was why Sei tried to avoid as many civilian causalities as possible in his own war.

It was a weakness his enemies exploited to the fullest of their potential. The Empire cared not for its citizens, so long as they had enough left to continue paying taxes. They had little worry about the orphans they created so long as those same orphans would join their military when they came of age. The thoughts left a bitter taste in Sei’s mouth, the telepath spitting in disgust as if he had just eaten a bad piece of fruit.

The Empire of Corone was controlled by three Viceroys, all of which fled after Sei had declared war. Two of these Viceroys were harmless; just greedy men seeking to accomplish their own ends through any means necessary. It was the third Viceroy, Emien Harthworth that was the real military presence of Corone. If he could be eliminated, the army of the country would surely falter to scramble for a new leader. The Corone forces had been filled with nothing but greedy men, the more righteous ones flocking to the Ixian Knights, so there would be a power vacuum that Sei would be able to capitalize on.

There was only one person who had a rough idea where Emien would have fled to in the wake of the war. The one man who had been by the Viceroy’s side the entire length of the Serenti Invitational tournament. A man who, if Sei’s sources were correct, had a falling out with the strategist soon after the end of the competition. This man was the Paladin known as Marcus Book.

Sei had engaged Marcus during The Cell, a tournament where there could only be one survivor. He had spared the life of the apathetic holy man only to have the favor returned with an attempted execution. Marcus was calculating, cold, and did not hesitate to take a life should it require him to do so. He was the perfect man to help Sei find Emien Harthworth.

[Amen]

Sei’s search took him well into the ruins in the southern quarter of Knife’s Edge, an area the locals called Rubble Town for obvious reasons. People kept their heads down in Rubble Town, gathered around open fires built on street corners, and those that had the necessary layers to walk in the dark could not be trusted. No man acquired even the smallest wealth legitimately here.

There was a place amongst the ruins – a church, once – the legs of the building broken so the whole thing leaned against a blown-out warehouse beside it. It seemed a death trap, all boarded windows and buckled roof, but people were gathering there. Mothers guided their children underneath low arches and into the dark, slipping past hardened men with silver teeth and flashing switchblades. Whether or not the oddity had to do with his quarry, Sei had to investigate.

He ducked under the shattered door frame and found himself in a dark hallway lined with people, and the temperature instantly shot up six or seven degrees. As he progressed down the hall the throng of people thickened and the going went slower, and the temperature continued to rise. He tried to ask why they were gathering there, assuming for now that the press of bodies accounted for the improved atmosphere, but despite the curiousness of his method of communication they ignored him stubbornly. One keeps his or her head down in Rubble Town.

The hallway opened up into the worship room proper, where groups and families were gathered everywhere. The pews were long gone, replaced by bedrolls and tiny wooden or paper shacks. Some of them were even built from the old pews. There were candles everywhere but no open fires otherwise, and yet the interior temperature seemed better suited to a desert than a crippled building in the frozen heart of Salvar during winter.

The mystic’s eyes scanned his surroundings, and soon the puzzle was solved. Upon the stripped altar sat a solitary man, impressively muscled and naked from the waist up. He was cross-legged and barefoot, and a naked bastard sword rested on the marble in front of him. The hair on his scalp was dark and short enough to stand on end, and he sported a long black goatee. He was far tanner than Sei remembered him, and taller, and hellfire burned bright and hot in his outstretched hands.

Marcus Book sighed and opened his eyes, and they gleamed golden in the dark as if coalescing and reflecting all the candlelight in the room at once. “Good evening, Mister Orlouge,” the paladin said. “What brings you to Salvar?”

[Silence Sei]

“A bit odd for a paladin to wield fire, is it not?” Sei reached into one of his pockets, withdrawing a single battle fan. The Mystic opened weapon up and quickly began to fan himself from the heat, a few beads of sweat steadily rolling down his once chilled features. He approached Marcus with caution, each step a bit lighter than the last; the mark of a man who spent his nights stalking and dispatching foes with the efficiency of an assassin.

“You’re avoiding the question, Mr. Orlouge,” Marcus had spoken with the same ‘tone’ as his new guest, slightly surprising the mute at how similar the mannerisms of the two warriors were. Not only his tone, but the fact that Marcus Book was providing the heat for so many showed a side of compassion that the Ixian leader had never seen before. These actions were more in line with Mister Book’s actual profession than what Sei had known of his brief encounters with the man.

Perhaps if we had not initially met under such barbaric conditions, we’d have been kindred spirits

Sei stood directly behind the shirtless Paladin now, his eyes shifting back and forth to each of the flames. Marcus would probably detect an increased heat coming off of his flames; Sei’s own contribution to warming the homeless and destitute of Knife’s Edge. “I have come on a goodwill mission of sorts, Marcus.”

“I’ve heard about your Ixian Knights. If this is an invitation, I’m not interested in them or the fate of Corone.” There was a tinge in the warrior’s voice now. What exactly had Emien done to warrant the ire of such a

“While the mission at hand does have to do with the Ixian Knights and our ultimate goal, it’s something I will not in good conscience involve my people in. Such duties are the responsibilities of one in my position.” Sei’s eyes continued to dart to each flame, the beads of sweat multiplying upon his head and speeding down his face. A few droplets passed the strategists range of vision, only to instantly fizzle into the air with a loud hiss.

“A secret mission that involves me?”

“Indeed,” Sei broke off his laser vision, the temperature of the room slowly starting to lower without the additional heat boost. The Mystic took a few graceful steps to make his way beside the concentrating warrior. “Marcus Book, I think you will find that the particular thing I am looking for is something you’ve been after since the end of the Serenti Invitational…”

Marcus’ eyes instantly turned to meet Sei’s, their orbs sharing the same stone cold glare. He must have known in that instant exactly what, or rather whom, the mute was referring to.

“Emien Harthworth.”

[Amen]

Marcus’ eyes darted left and right as he thought, considering the implications of this visit, reviewing the facts – the evidence. He didn’t know if he could trust Sei Orlouge: they’d often found themselves on opposite sides of the battlefield. Was Sei deceiving him? Entrapping him? He’d heard so many rumors out of Corone, and with the Ixian Knights so intimately entangled with the politics of Radasanth…

The paladin’s eyes leapt up now, considering the mystic’s face, and for a moment there was a flare in those eerie twin lights, a spark in the dark beneath his heavy brow. No, he decided. Sei was many things, but in his own mind he was a hero always, and destroying or betraying Marcus Book through deception wouldn’t have been heroic. Besides, Sei was more powerful, socially and physically – he gained very little by avoiding a direct confrontation.

“He’s here,” Marcus began carefully. “In Salvar. In Knife’s Edge.”

“I know.” Sei let that hang between them a moment. “My sources tell me you and the viceroy had a falling out, and that you’ve been looking for him.”

“I’m going to kill him,” Marcus said. Sei raised his eyebrows.

“Why did he think Knife’s Edge would be safe for him?”

“Because he thinks I’m dead, and perhaps he thinks your Knights are too involved in Corone’s messy political scene to give him much attention. I’m surprised your order found the time, much less that it’s you that came.”

“We’re not an order.”

Marcus shrugged one shoulder.

“Why does he think you’re dead, Marcus? What happened?”

“He betrayed us, his mercenaries. He sent us to commit an atrocity, and when we failed he tried to destroy us to erase the evidence. I had a friend who died in my stead, so I went to Radasanth to avenge him. Surely they speak of that night.”

“Emien’s manor? That was you?”

Marcus smiled.

“He thought I died there, I thought he did. Luckily, I learned he survived before he learned I survived. If you’ve figured it out, I haven’t much time before he does, too. Life must be hard for him without his spies.”

“I need to find him. I need to bring him to justice, for the good of my city. He’s an axe hanging over my head.”

“And mine.”

“Do you know where to find him?”

“No,” Marcus said. “But your particular talents will enable us to start looking.”

[Silence Sei]

During the conversation between the two warriors, Sei could feel bumps welling up on his skin. There was a shiver sent throughout the Mystic’s body, a chill that had nothing to do with the biting cold of Salvar. They were being watched, Sei had been followed. “Marcus,” Sei spoke privately to the paladin, who simply nodded. Though the mute could not see it, he knew that his former rival was also scanning the room.

“Guess I lost my element of surprise,” Marcus mumbled, turning towards the orange haired Ixian Knight. Sei could feel Marcus’ scowl upon his form, but the telepath had become distracted by the new presence in the room. His mind had become preoccupied trying to get a bead upon on the mental signature of their new arrival. There was many a shadow skulking the crumbling buildings interior, as well as many mental ’voices’ that the mute had to filter through. It would be no easy task to find the culprit.

After a moment, Sei had decided that there was no longer any time to waste, and closed his orbs. “I’d advise you to shield your eyes as well, Marcus.”

Regardless of whether or not the paladin had heeded the warning, Sei’s body exploded the area with a bright white light, the Mystic quickly opening his eyes and looking through the area quickly. Many of the people around them had been temporarily blinded by the illuminating flash, but there was one person in particular that had caught the mute’s attention. The bulk of the being signified a man-like physique, and his wardrobe, head-to-toe in tight black silk, gave away the man’s profession.

A ninja. Emien had hired assassins to locate Marcus Book.

Sei wasted no time, reaching down to his side and grabbing the bladed ring from its still position. He threw the weapon towards the man’s leg, a move intended to immobilize rather than kill. Sei pointed at the direction of the stranger, causing Marcus to look back. “If you don’t want to lose that element of surprise you’re so keen on having, we need to stop that man.”

[Amen]

Assassins?

Marcus was still examining the angles and possibilities when Sei threw a weapon with expert precision. Book's was a detective’s mind, shrewd and methodical and ever-active, and it mulled the possibilities even as his body sprung into action alongside the mute mystic.

Emien Harthworth was a clever man with a vast and experienced spy network, but Marcus was sure his presence in Knife’s Edge was as yet a mystery to them. He was known in Rubble Town, certainly, but only as a nameless and faceless paladin, charitable and powerful in ways Marcus had not been when he’d been in service to the viceroy. Harthworth kept himself on the outskirts of Salvic society, but he still valued safety and comfort, which ruled Old Town and Rubble Town out as hideaways. No, it was too unlikely that Emien had known well enough to send assassins for Marcus specifically, and even more unlikely that one should be present at the moment Sei discovered him.

Once the unlikely outcomes were eliminated, the probable facts fell into place. Sei was a high-profile individual: powerful, uniquely attired, politically active, and easily recognized across the known world. His arrival in Salvar would not have gone unnoticed, and it would be safe to assume that the mystic would not have left Radasanth in the midst of revolution if not to hunt a threat to his power there. Thus, a wise spy would follow the mute at a distance and determine what, if any allies the new government of Corone had in Salvar…and if such a spy were to discover that a determined enemy once thought dead was in fact alive, the prudent action was to inform one’s employer.

And if said spy was skilled enough to trail Sei Orlouge unnoticed, then…

Marcus stepped in behind Sei just as the thrown ring might have struck the ninja. The attack missed however. The ninja leapt gracefully over the projectile, planted a foot on a nearby wall, and executed a high, beautiful flip. At the apex of his leap, the spy twisted in midair and threw a short, aerodynamic dagger, which might have pierced Marcus’ throat if he’d remained where he was. Instead the dagger bounced harmlessly off of the stone altar, and Marcus was safe from further attacks by virtue of putting himself behind a much more powerful being.

The ninja hit the ground running toward the back of the fallen church, and Marcus dodged around Sei to give chase. He knew the church well, which was the single advantage he had available to him: the ninja was remarkably fast, and would have easily slipped away if he’d known his escape route. As it was, the black-clad spy had to double back twice before finding an exit into the snowy evening. Marcus shot out after him into the cold, oblivious thanks to the hellfire burning deep within him.

The snow further impeded the agile spy, which was fortunate because he was quite clearly faster than Marcus could ever hope to be. If not for the heat of his skin, which caused the snow to soften to mush even as his bare feet sank into it, the templar would have fallen behind. Instead, he kept pace with his quarry, slipping in and out of the ruins of the city tirelessly.

Now the ninja darted up a half-rotted staircase that ran alongside a desiccated inn, bouncing from handrail to wall and back again so that his padded feet never touched an actual step. Marcus bounded up the stairs after him, taking them three and four at a time, huffing out voluminous clouds of steam. The acrobat entered into the ruins of the inn by leaping seven feet into the air, slipping through a gap in the rotted boards of the building no wider than a foot across without ever slowing. Marcus growled, picked up speed, and ran through the same wall, forcing his shoulder into the old wood so violently that it shattered.

On the other side of the wall, the ninja spun around wide-eyed, surprised at the show of overwhelming power and determination. That moment of hesitation was enough for Marcus to grab hold of the spy, twist at the hips, and then shove his shadowy victim to the ground. Book bent down to grab the ninja again, who in turn lashed out with incredible speed and buried a small knife in the paladin’s forearm. Marcus recoiled with a hiss, and then stomped his bare foot down on the ninja’s chest hard enough to knock the wind out of him. Marcus held him down with his foot as the would-be assassin writhed in pain soundlessly. He exhaled as he pulled the knife out of his flesh.

The Light went to work cauterizing the wound so that the blood only flowed for an instant. Marcus watched, distantly aware that Sei was descending from the sky behind him and stepping gingerly through the hole in the wall he’d created.

“You should question him,” Marcus said. “I’m not certain he’d survive if I did it.”

[Silence Sei]

Sei chose to give chase much slower than his temporary ally, fully aware of what Marcus Book was capable of when angry. When he finally did manage to catch up to the paladin and his quarry, the would-be assassin was having a ball eating snow courtesy of the larger warrior. Sei landed on the snow, his feet just inches from the ninj'as already buried head. The people from earlier were starting to pile out and gaze upon the interrogation, eager to see the questioning tactics of the Mystic telepath.

"Emien Harthworth," Sei kneeled down as his butterfly wings retracted into his back, "it would be most beneificial to yourself, me, and my friend here that you tell me where he is now. Otherwise, I'm afraid Mister Book may just hold you in that snow until you die from drowning. That would inconvience me very much.." The mute hated speaking as though he were a bad guy. Making it seem as though this man's life was as significant to Sei as a fly's life to a flame made the orange haired warrior quite queasy.

The black-clad killer mumbled something beneath the powder which prompted Marcus to lift the smaller body from it's winter prison. Sei leaned in a little closer, his features eye-to-eye with those of the mystery man. He knew what the answer was even before the trapped being furrowed his brow and clenched his teeth. "Go to hell, Orlouge."

The corners of the mute's lips raised as he shook his head. "See, that's the kind of thing that makes Marcus here get a little twitchy."

As if on cue, Sei could hear the man's bone snap. The mute shuddered at the sound, and he could hear the odd gasp from the crowd in the distance. Here in the cold of Salvar, sounds such as broken bones had a tendency to carry along the wind. A few concerned mothers decided now was the best time to usher their children back in their makeshift den. Sei raised an eyebrow as the rouges face fell into the snow again with no sound. Even the most hardened soldiers would at least let out a whimper of pain from a broken bone.

"They're called limbs because they snap like twigs," Marcus commented as he forced the ninja's head back up, which caused Sei to straighten up.

"Let him go." Sei's voice went from worried interrogator toseason veteran in the span of a few seconds. His presence once again commanded both fear and respect out of those around him. He went from becoming Radasanth's savior to its protector once more. This sudden shift caused Marcus to stand, and take a step forward with the same aura about him. The shorter warrior stared at the Mystic, hisv face formed into a scowl.

"He's our best lead. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't go to the lengths you won't to find Emien."

"Because he's dead.."

[Amen]

Marcus blinked, glancing from Sei to their captive. He stared for a long moment and realized the Mystic was right - the black-clad spy wasn't breathing.

"I've never heard of somebody dying from a broken wrist," he muttered, crouching down again. He rolled the still-warm corpse onto its back as Sei watched.

"He must have taken something," Sei supposed. "I've heard of certain assassin cabals that take poison if captured, so they can't be questioned. I didn't see anything like that here, but...maybe he took the poison before his mission began. It may have been activated by sufficient pain or stress."

Marcus nodded thoughtfully as he worked, tearing open black layers of clothing to expose the ninja's chest to the frigid air of Salvar. Sei cocked an eyebrow. "It's a clever trick," Book said. "But you're not getting away that easy."

The templar pressed his open palm to the corpse's now-exposed chest, and Sei perceived a sudden flow of otherworldly energy. It wasn't coming from the Tap, but it was powerful and volatile all the same. To channel it as Marcus was must have been physically and emotionally excruciating.

It built up in him, a white-golden heat that radiated alarmingly from his eyes, and it traveled down his arm, and with a vicious push he forced it into their clever spy. At first it seared at his remains, finding only necrotic flesh and the growing presence of death. After a tense moment, though, it found the last vestiges of life not fully fled.

Whatever was rendering the assassin dead was burnt away, and vitality was forced back into stilled veins. The spy woke suddenly, screaming and lashing and struggling to push the paladin away. Marcus had expected it, though, and he forced the man down again.

"Welcome back," he said. "Now, answer the gods-damn question."

The ninja stared wide-eyed at the pair for a long moment, and then he screwed his face up and clenched his mouth closed.

"He's going to..."

"You little fucking..."

There was a sickening crunch, and then the assassin leaned over and spit out a mouthful of blood. Half of his tongue landed in the snow amidst the thick flow of blood, and Marcus sighed. The pain of it made the assassin groan despite himself, but he smiled proudly at them all the same.

"You think I can't fix that, too?" Marcus said, reaching for the ninja's face. "If you want to do all the work and torture yourself, that's fine with me, I can do this all night."

"Stop," Sei said, putting his hand on the paladin's shoulder. Marcus peered back at him, glaring, but Sei leaned forward and clocked their captive on the temple with practiced ease. "Sleep."

"What are you...?"

Sei grinned and tapped the side of his head. "You rattled him. He envisioned the last place he saw Emien when he first woke up. I think we've got the best lead we're going to get from this one."

Marcus nodded slowly, rising to his feet. "I need a shirt," he said. "Where are we going after that?"

"Nowhere safe."