The trio rode towards Tylermande, moving fairly quickly with only minor chatter breaking up the tension. The youngster, a funny clipped-wing kid named Hayate, had gotten Storm’s attention immediately. Some self-deprecation, a little too much confidence; the kid had brass ones to match the shiny shirt buttons that kept his nub from getting sunburned.

Who are YOU going to protect? I’ve had a hundred notches on my belt since before you got off the tit.

Smoking now, he pulled the warm flavor off his cherrywood pipe as he considered the words of the brazen boy. Perhaps the kid was onto something; Storm had let plenty of younger, dumber kids stand before him fighting the masses in Gisela. Still, he sort of liked this one; there was no sense allowing the lad to sacrifice himself before he could finish sprouting hairs on his chest and finding out what type of monsters really laid within him.

“Easy, kid, no need to play bodyguard here.” Storm removed the pipe to spit some juice; occasionally the leaves in his satchel picked up some moisture and hurt the smooth taste if he didn’t suck them out. “I presume that Shin wouldn’t have brought you along if you weren’t special.”

A wry smile was all that Osiris offered; there was no need to elaborate. Between the two of them the Brotherhood was already a force of nature. Adding new members meant choosing wisely; there was no desire to dilute the power of the group by creating easy marks for kidnap, hostage, or murder.

“One arm and he still carries more weight, I’d bet.” Shinsou couldn’t resist the ball-breaking of his old friend, as everyone knew Storm to be well above the peasant labors.

“Easy! Nowhere for you to vanish to this time when push comes to shove. Besides, I can’t carry the lumber when I’ve got to strap you to my goddamned back.” Storm’s retort was good natured but retained some point to it; Shinsou was prone to vacate duty at times.

The sun rising wasn’t as warm as Corone would usually warrant. It was a mercy, given the heavy gear Veritas had strapped about Attila. The horse moved easily and smoothly, the gleaming armor about him no burden about his incredible breadth and power.

“Plan is simple, kid. Just look bad-ass enough, and Tylermande will fold. These are traders, shippers, and businessmen. They’ll have a few guards, but we can pay them better. Cut a profile that makes no doubt that if they push back, we tear the city apart. Once we own the port, Radasanth has no internal support from the citizens; we will roll the city and own the entire goddamned continent from there.”

Storm’s fingers crackled with electric delight at the notion, his fingertips pulsing white and blue through his thin leather gauntlets. He inhaled the odor of ozone deeply, considering what type of elaborate terror he could show to the port to make this entire exchange very simple.

In parallel, Shinsou had grown silent again, his body tall in the saddle and cheekbones set high beneath narrow, deep set eyes. His eyes looked infinitely focused upon the horizon, as Tylermande began to roll into view.

The port city emerged on the edge of the world before them, rising slowly as the horses marched forward. A thin, beautiful hardwood fence of eight feed framed the port, large cement stanchions serving as strong foundations at each turn of wood. A few guards stood atop the front gate, their shadows against the rising sun the only detail available. The wide, smooth, white road was paved ahead with crushed seashells, an idyllic and luxurious detail of a town which attracted traders and vacationers. It was a port and resort, and appeared entirely unprepared for battle.