“Good question.” Jeremiah seemed to relax now that the tension between his allies started to fade. Perhaps it was the rum talking, but his tone softened, and he sat back in his chair and relaxed. “What do you know about the Innari?”

It had been many decades since the swordsman had last encountered a ‘goblin’. He furrowed his brow as he tried to remember what he now about them. About their culture, their history, and their drive.

“They used to be more civilised, some of the most powerful sorcerers to exist since the War of the Tap.” He chuckled. “Like Forgotten Ones with a penchant for crevettes and over indulgent banquets.”

“In terms of their place in Scara Braen society, they were on par with the royal household and revered. Kind, generous, and always willing to pass on their knowledge to the other races, the island prospered with their help in what Lilith describes overly fondly as ‘The Age of the Stage’.” Killian glanced at the assassin, hinting for her to continue.

“If you’d lived through it, Killian, you’d call it such. The theatre troupes then numbered nearly a hundred, and the city was never without song and spectacle. Molyneux was their defacto leader, as we all know, and he founded a university at the heart of the city in the shadows of the palace.”

Killian nodded in agreement. The University still stood, though it was now home to the diplomatic embassies and merchant houses that kept Scara Brae wealthy and far removed from the troubles of the other kingdoms.

“When Valeena’s ancestor became paranoid that open use of magic in the city was a sign of trouble, she outlawed its public use and confined it to the halls of the university.” Lilith counted on the fingers of her left hand and stopped at four. “Four successive monarchs were assassinated in the three years following the Molyneux Edict. Civil war tore the city apart and the Innari chose to leave entirely and take their magic and their wealth with them.”

“That about sums up the case notes. What do you know about them now, though?” He knew that Lilith had ventured north on a skirmish of her own, so the captain’s attentions remained fixed on the swordsman. Arden shrugged. “Go on. Somebody down in that shit hole of yours must have brought you word?”

Arden pouted.

“Well…they’re divided. Two tribes, one feral, one peaceful, locked in an eternal theocratic struggle over wherever or not they should kill everything, themselves included or worship ‘Skarggo’ in a pacifistic cult.”

Killian nodded. “There we have the gist of our plan.”

Arden put the pieces together and suddenly realised where he, and his infamous sword arm fit it into the grand scheme. He mouthed a silent curse at Valeena for dragging him into it.

“You want me to start a war?”

“Oh, that ship’s already sailed boy.” Killian gripped onto the arms of his chair as the ship began to lurch prophetically. A ruckus from outside indicated the flagship was ready and was pulling away in the first gusts of wind caught in it’s unfurling sails.

“You’re terrible at that anyway,” Lilith chuckled. “We want you to end it.”

Arden blinked.

“I’m sorry?”

“You bloody heard! The leader of the Skein, the shamanistic tribes wants to take up Valeena’s offer of peace and return to the city as citizens. The little shit flingers that go by Skars want to make sure that doesn’t happen and it’s they who are flying rabidly at our walls in protest.”

“Oh. Okay, now I understand.” He pictured his winged form rampaging through hordes of snivelling, relentless warriors.

“Skarrgo is dead.” Lilith produced a parchment and handed it to her brother. “This is a signed accord from Starr Redmaw, Great Shaman of the Innari, who we’re going to escort from the forest whilst you and the Knights of Brae tear a great hole through the Skar.”

“Smashing.” Arden took it with a nod. “So instead of a happy ending you’ve got me caught up in genocide.”

“That’s…one way to put it. But there’s more to it. Skarrgo was tied to the Innar, a natural force that gave the Innari their insight as much as it did their fervour. He grew mad, beyond the ability of Starr to calm and the shaman made a choice, as he did centuries ago to put the fate of his people first no matter the cost.” The weight of the captains’ words pressed on Arden’s conscience.

“Centuries ago?” He raised an eyebrow, then found his line of sight dropping to the wax seal on the scroll. He bit his lip. “Starr…”

“…Starr Redmaw was once named Molyneux.” Lilith handed the revelation to her brother on a plate and felt the knot in her stomach untangle. “We don’t know how they became slaves to that mad god, but now they are free the Skein want to return…to the University halls and help restore the city –“

“the whole island, even,” Killian interrupted.

“Yes. The whole island,” Lilith rolled her eyes.

“This day just keeps getting better and better.” The swordsman set the scroll on the edge of the desk and slowly unsheathed his sword from it’s bloodied scabbard. The chain that kept by his side rattled, swinging back and forth in time with the cresting waves as the Liliana ventured out into open waters.

“That’s the last bit of exposition I promise.” Killian sounded sincere, but Arden wasn't sure if it was genuine, or induced by the pouring of a third round of rum.

Arden smiled and set the tip of Kerria onto the floor. He turned the blade slowly between forefinger and thumb, expertly keeping it vertical despite it’s weight. He thought about their plan for a long, awkward moment then looked to each of them in turn. The drinks were handed out and when each raised their glass in anticipation, the swordsman spoke.

“Alright. You have my blade. How many of yours do I get?” Fire flickered in his cornea as the dragon within awoke from it’s long, bitter slumber of remorse.