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Though the weather was bleak, the day had begun brightly for Tenedos Starkk.

In the months since he escaped the chaos of Arius Mephisto's assault on Whitevale, he had returned to Scara Brae, to the site of where his life had once began and where the Brotherhood's only presence was as a memory in the back of his mind.

He swallowed a mouthful of coffee and placed the half empty cup down on the oak table. Back in the day, the other Reavers of the Brotherhood called Tenedos "The Lightning Argent". Perhaps, after this mission, historians would etch the name into the annals of Althanian history.

Perhaps.

The man picked his teeth with a bone toothpick, chiseling out the remains of breakfast from the gaps, and examined his reflection in the wall mounted mirror.

His cheeks had color from the cold, and his face had lost a little weight. His narrow blue eyes still had a handsome sheen to them. Looking down, he pulled his left sleeve up to reveal puckered, rough skin covering the length of his forearm. Tenedos ran his other hand over it slowly; the texture felt like that of a cheese grater, the result of his skin melting and bubbling from being struck by a scolding hot missle from a Coronian Assembly trebuchet during the Siege of Radasanth. Although he had recovered well from the injuries of the siege, the constant discomfort reminded him everyday of the battle. He had lost so much more than the feeling in his arm that day.

As the front door slid open, Tenedos quickly rolled his sleeve down and turned to see his friend Elle pace in, followed by a whiff of sea salt. Her boots thumped across the clean tile floor. She looked nonchalant as usual, with her hazel hair framed face drawn in complete indifference. Tenedos gestured for her to to sit at the small table, so she pulled back a chair and sat her lithe frame down in it. Elle spared a quick glance at the falchions, Vito and Mors, in the corner and then cleared her throat, reaching inside her leather jacket. A milky skinned hand produced a folded piece of paper and placed it on the table, sliding it slowly across whilst navigating the coffee cup.

"I've got a name," Elle said, her light voice echoing through the hall. She raked a hand through her disheveled brown hair, hazel eyes blazing like coals.

Tenedos picked up the paper and unfolded it, and after a brief glance at the tidy scrawl on the page tucked it into his pocket.

"Augustus Damacles." Tenedos cleared his throat and wiped his lips before shooting a suspicious glare at Elle. "...and he has the key?"

The woman nodded curtly. "That's what I'm hearing from my sources."

The man pushed back from the table, and walked to the window. His eyes followed a flock of martins as they swooped below the treeline of his garden, and pivoted before scattering like buckshot as a hawk descended on one of the weaker fliers. Tenedos watched on as the bird of prey ripped apart the smaller bird, feasting on its carcass. A well deserved meal.

"Well then. Time to find out more about this Augustus."