Amari sat with her back pressed against the worn wooden rails of a rickety cart, its destination, the Inner Sanctum. The collar of her black leather coat was lifted high to warm her neck against the cold. Her eyes furrowed in concern, as they focused on her hands, which were sprawled out before her. Amari wriggled her fingers which appeared to be stained an inky black, as though she had ran her fingers through the river of death.

“The hell is wrong with me….” She muttered as she brought them closer together, and linked her fingers. How long had it been since she had seen her Master? A week? Two? She was definitely overdue for a check in, that generally warranted some form of punishment, it made Amari nervous. She wasn’t often nervous around her Master, his emotional, or lack thereof persona didn’t bother her, nor did his mood swings, or his penchant for death. So why was she so apprehensive now? Was it because of Shinsou?

The cart drew to a slow halt, jolting Amari from her thoughts. “Right Miss, yer home.” The dwarf drew his arm across a bulbous nose. “Tell the Master next shipment O’ iron will be ‘ere in a few days.”

Amari stood and pushed herself off and over the edge of the cart, her feet landing in the thick snow. “Sure thing. Boaris.”

Amari turned to walk toward the large hall but was stopped by the gruff warning of the dwarf. “Aye, Red, he’s been mood lately.” The warning was meant to be nothing more than a friendly caution, but it did little to put Amari at ease.

“Great.” She muttered, shoving her hands in her pockets. “Just fuckin’ perfect.” Amari lifted her feet and trudged toward the large wooden mess hall. The sun had just fallen below the horizon, which generally meant it’d be full of the members eating and drinking and fighting. But, as Amari approached she couldn’t help but notice how unusually quiet the hall was.

Amari pushed open the doors and there, at the head of the table, sitting in an ivory throne of human bone and skull, sat a very unimpressed Lichensith Ulroke.

“Scarlett.” He said, his voice a stoic drawl, “So nice of you to grace me with your presence.”

Amari shrugged off the jacket and tossed it onto the table as she approached him, she unhooked a small pouch of 100 gold coins and shoved it on the table in front of him. Boaris was wrong, he wasn’t just moody, he was pissed.

“I suppose we have a lot to discuss, no?”