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Of Valor in Men

Prologue: Of the Bitter Cold

The sound of the icy sea and low whistling winds were common here in Dragonholme. Rolling green hills, dense pine forests, and steep shores, all blasted in either snow, fog or rain, year long, even the sun did little to warm the airs. Yet life fostered here, and most surprisingly, it thrived; wild colonies of hares could be seen up on the hills. Towns and forts littered the mountains and shores, the land here was harsh, the people here stuck together.

Even the shores here in my childhood home bore a pearly whiteness to it rather then that of a warm yellow or soft red, so much so that to foreigners it looked like snow. The very air itself as it filled my lungs with every breath brought a warmth to me under my armour. I had been raised here, in some lonely cabin far outside of Solitude.

And it was here that I would exact my vengeance, the vengeance that the Church so arrogantly denied me. Though I couldn't help but stare at the mud of the laneway, lost in thought, holding but a simple silver locket in my gauntlet. It was so tiny, it had once been hers, now it was all that's left, now it drives me, fueled me.

My fist clenched tight over it as the heavy oak door swung open with a frosty creak, taking in a deep breath and looking up, ready to get on the road.

Chapter one: lonely nights

The wind blew through the fort known as the Crossroads, bitter and cold. Hail was drawing near, either that or a blizzard, both of which loomed in the distance threatening to halt my journey further. I was already burdened by the insult of a scribe the Black Church had forced upon me, I had pleaded to the council for scores upon scores for a scribe, my eyes set on Brandon the stable boy, but no, the Church once again "knew better".

The wretched reptile stood beside me, teeth chattering in the cold, thick bear fur coat that was obviously too big for him draped over his shoulders. He had nothing to his name, save a small shoulder cape he refused to part with. The two of us were waiting for a carriage from BerryBuckle, the town a little inland from the Crossroads where I was to catch up with an old friend. Or at least that was the plan, till this blasted weather decided to freeze over the marsh road into town.

I lead on into the forts main hall, old timbers, smelling of fresh lacquer and smoke from the fireplace both definitely made for a warmer atmosphere. One that my so called squire took to with a relieved smile as he raced to the fire. I cursed under my breath as I marched up to the counter at the far end of the room. What a joke this was, a renowned knight being forced to train a slave soldier from another country.

The scrawny man behind the bar recognised me near instantly, his sunken eyes lighting up just a bit as I approached.

"Sir Roderic, tis been a whiles. Didn't think I'd see

you round these parts again, what brings you back to the Crossroads?" the boy asked, his voice carried a slow drawl typical of the northerners, the same drawl I had though not as thick or slow.

"William! Still working the bar I see, hmm, just here to rent a room...two rooms, for the night, or at least until the marsh road thaws" I responded, my voice loud and boisterous as always, William however smirked as he always did.

"Roads going to be frozen over for a whiles what with the winds coming down from the tundra. Better off asking one'o the dragons in the stables round back to fly ya over the marshes" He said, fishing around in a small back room that joined the cellar for a pair of room keys. I rose a brow at that notion, wondering if Niyla was around. Her mother had worked on my families farm back when I was just a child, I'd been raised alongside her. Last I saw of her she was drifting around dragonholme.

"...Is Niyla here? By any chance..." I asked quietly as William trudged back up to the counter with a set of big iron keys.

"Aye, she's out back in the stables, she's been running a few local race circuits lately, done her wing in bad last run. Now she's resting up here, says the Volak up here is the best around, heh." he replied as I scooped the keys up and let out a huff of air through my nose, forking out a gold coin to cover the rooms for tonight.

"So she's drunk? And racing now too, great." I muttered to myself a I turned and scanned about for my "squire". The wretched lizard had found another of his kind in which to chat with, a plumper one, sharply dressed, I overheard the word "brothel" as I walked past, heading outside once more.

The stables were around back, in their own little walled in muddy courtyard, nothing grand or flashy like the Claw Keep, but for tired dragons looking for a comfy bed for the night, it made do. I hadn't seen Niyla in years, we'd had a falling out some time during my youth, she'd wanted us to become famous racers, I wanted to be a knight, a Rider. Even as I rounded the corner and ducked through the low stone archway I felt nervous, I hadn't left her on the best terms.

She lay there in the shade of one of the stable stalls, a defeated look on her face, her left wing bandaged to her side and splinted. I hesitated, last I'd seen her she was as big as a dog, now she dwarfed me, easily the size of a clydesdale and then some.

"Roderic..." I suddenly heard her voice deep in my head, I hadn't taken a single step toward her yet and she already knew it was me.

"Niyla, It's...been a while, hasn't it" I said in response, taking a few steps toward her before she gave me a sullen look, It was clear she still held a grudge.

"Leave me alone Roderic..." her voice came once more, piercing my thoughts loud and clear, it felt closed off now, there had been a time where her mind was open to me, but not anymore.

"I heard you had an accident while racing... I hope you're alright" I said, looking down at her with a pang of guilt, I had always thought about what would have been if I had stuck with her.

"As if you care..." she spat, this time in tongue, and under her breath, her foreleg reaching

for an abandoned bottle of wine. By the looks of things she'd worked her way through a whole crate of said wine.

"This is what you waste your winnings on? Wine?" I said with a disappointed tone. I had been keeping up with the races in the time I could spare, I had been ever since I left, from what I knew she had been doing well in the sprint circuits.

"Why do you care what I waste my last winnings on! I'm out of the season cause of this stupid injury! I'll be toiling on some farm for the rest of the year just like I always do!" she shouted, raising to full height, drunkenly swaying on her feet as she looked me dead in the eyes, she raised a fore paw and took a swipe at me, only to fall flat on her face. She rolled onto her side and let out a defeated huff through her nose, I moved to sit beside her on the stone floor. I sat there with her, my old childhood friend, one hand laid upon her neck, her scales still felt as warm as always even through the leather of my gauntlet.

"I do care... I always did..." I muttered to myself as the sun set slowly behind the thick foggy grey clouds, Eventually Niyla passed out and I left her be, trudging my way back to the main hall of the fort, I needed I drink.

The bar was more lively now, mainly just soldiers stationed at the fort itself but patrons where patrons, there were even some local outlying farmers and stable men, all come for a stiff drink in warm surroundings. out of the corner of my eye I spotted my superposed squire being hauled up stairs in the arms of the plumper fellow from before, the two of them acting rather flirtatiously, my lip turned as I saw it, wanting nothing more then to spit in disgust.

"Urgh...freak..." I muttered to myself as I made my way up to the bar for a drink, William no longer attending it but instead a freckled red haired woman

I knew all too well.

"Solda? My by the lords haven't you grown..." I said quietly to the now smiling woman, she'd been just a baby when I'd left.

"Well well, If it isn't Roddy Hargrieve, It tis been a while hasn't it" she reposted, smiling wide as she slammed down a pair of frothing tankards for the gentlemen next to me.

"That it has. That it has..." I replied, sullenly as I took out the small locket stashed safely in the leather pouch on my belt. I rubbed my thumb over it as I sat there at the bar.

"Anything I can get you, Roddy?" she asked a moment later, but I didn't hear her, I was consumed by staring at the small portrait of the little girl within the locket I'd given her.

"...Just an ale... please..." I muttered as my fist clenched tightly, my knuckles most likely white under the thick leather gauntlet.

I sat there for what seemed like an eternity, simply staring at the locket, and drinking the pain away, till the moon rose high and fatigue finally bested me. Only back nary a single day and already I found my head haunted by things I wanted only to forget.

Chapter two: A Winding Road

The morning brought with it the familiar wardrum-esque headache typical to a hangover, enhanced by the commotion of some nearby crowd. I'd been carried up to my room from the bar, it was plain, bare with nothing but a simple wooden bed and an old chest. Yet smoke wafted into my room, not the smoke of a campfire but that of a roaring inferno. Dizzy and nauseous I stood, pushing the door open and stepping out onto the balcony to behold a dark black sky. That of smoke, in the distance dying embers of some huge fire could be seen as the inky black clouds bled into the foggy grey white of morning sunrise.

A bushfire perhaps? But there were no forests or busland to the south, only grassy plains and cliffs. Concern gripped at me, one would utter the words Dragon attack, but Dragons wouldn't do such a thing, not here. I looked out over the muddy entryway of the fort, farmers and soldiers alike all muttering and staring off at the glowing embers on the horizon. Scanning the crowd I spotted Solda and Niyla, but not my scribe, sure I didn't like the lizard but twas a knight's duty to train any appointed scribe to the best of one's abilities.

I moved toward the stairs only to stop immediately, my head spinning and bile threatening at the back of my throat, I shouldn't have drank so much last night. I made my way down slowly, clutching my head and groaning, though as I made my way through the narrow archway into the main hall my eyes would widen.

The main hall no longer played host to tables and chairs and merriment but wounded soldiers, men stood upon crutches, bandaged limbs, horrible burns on any exposed skin. Many of them mumbled incoherently like fools as I made my way past them toward William at the bar. The sallow, sunken eyed friend of mine rose as I stumbled up to him, if anyone would know what was happening here it'd be him.

“What happened… who are these men, the fire?" I muttered, clutching my still aching head as I tried to shake off the nauseous feeling in my stomach.

“T'was a Zeppelin, dunno who's or what t'was on it but it crashed into Stiltsenburg, Necromancer shot it down according to these mumbling fools. They's all that's made it out, Fol sent a Daemon with a message to the capital asking for more men to reinforce the Crossroads" He said with a seldom look in his sunken steely eyes, the mention of a necromancer immediately had me straighten up.

“Necromancer? Here?" I responded, still muttering though now rather troubled, Shades hadn't existed since the War of Arcanis, such teachings were forbidden, punished by immediate execution without trial.

“Aye, If you're looking to get to BerryBuckle you'd best do it quick whilst the marsh road tis thawed.Aa merchant caravans headed that way soon, saw that lizard you came in with, he's off with the caravan" William added, notioning toward the west entry to the Crossroads, William often spoke slowly, people always assumed him slow witted because of it but I knew him better than most.

Looking out toward the west, narrowing my eyes, if a Necromancer was prowling around then no road was safe.

“Do you still sell your, 'special' supplies?" I asked as I turned back to him, his eyes now slowly glancing about. He nodded to me, William had always had the smuggler mentality, even as a child.

“That I do, and the soldiers here thank me for it to" he responded, though no smile of pride was worn, not at the sight of the broken, injured souls spread around the bar.

“I think I might need some if a Necromancer is roaming around, just to be safe" I muttered away to myself, the Minister had at least been right about one thing, bad things were coming. The forbidden arts hadn't been taught or used since the witch Arcanis had been eviscerated.

“I think that's a wise decision, wait here, I'll grab some things" he said before disappearing off into the back room and down into the cellar. More than anything I hoped he had enriching salts, something to clear this headache and hangover. He returned a moment later with a small leather satchel, passing it over to me in return for a handful of coin.

“Take the north road, it's longer and worn but Tis safer, keep yer wits Roddy" he muttered as I turned and made through the ever increasing sea of wounded.

“You to William" Civilians and farmers now joined the soldiers, even Velkenfolk, all with broken looks, limping, women and children. Such a tragedy was the thing that bred knights, I would stay, help but I had to get to BerryBuckle, Yoel was no doubt wondering where I was and he wouldn't stick around for much longer. I had one chance to get ahead of the Church on this, if I didn't they'd make sure I never got close to it again.

I made for the West arch, a clear line of wooden wagons all with canvas tops waiting, an assortment of folk milling around them looking worried and frustrated, my scribe and his chubbier friend included although they looked much calmer. Fishing around in the satchel I produced a small vial of off white powder, glancing around one last time at the Crossroads. My eyes fell on Niyla for a moment, she gave me a subtle nod, even an incompetent Dark caster wouldn't assault a fort, especially one with a dragon stationed within.

I half turned, gazing out at the glowing horizon one last time, the smoke still billowing thickly into the skies. I brought the vial up, cracking it open and taking a deep breath as rain began to plink off the steel parts of my armour. I turned and began toward the caravan, my hangover clearing up near instantly, a thin wisp of lighter smoke trailing into the air as I emptied the vial.

My squire, whose name I had yet to familiarize myself with greeted me with his usual distasteful look, I didn't blame him, he probably didn't want to be here.

“Ah Sir! Your a knight yes?" my Squires chubbier friend said, his voice chipper and warm, I rose a brow toward him and nodded.

“Splendid! Perhaps I could ask you to accompany my caravan to the east? I um… well the mercenaries I had been using as guards seemed to have…fled, aheh" the fellow said, his ears flattening out with a regretful look. One look at the caravan in question I could see various silks, hard timbers, nails and more, construction equipment and decor. An entrepreneur as it would seem, his sharp waistcoat and tunic supporting said assumption.

“I wouldn't blame the cowards, hearing that a Necromancer is loose nearby would make any smart man run for the hills" I retorted, marching off toward the caravan head, checking over the two dragons that had been harnessed to pull the wagons. Dragonholme was far too harsh for horses or bulls, thankfully Dragons were more than proud enough to pick up the slack, hence they were common sight in many occupations.

“Precisely why I wish to hire braver hands for this journey, if you'd be interested of course" the little lizard replied, following me. The two Dragons themselves where stretching and chatting to themselves, the code of valor obliged me to be chivalrous and offer help, the code any knight of Dragonholme lived by.

“Well, stop standing around, we'd best get going before this rain gets any heavier" I muttered as I moved a hand to the pomle of my sword, looking to the East now. Both my squire and his friend immediately began darting about, getting the wagons ready as I stood there, thinking.

Chapter Three: Mark of Valor

Dragonholme was at the top of the world, literally, past it's towering Vasto Mountain range was the infinite frozen wasteland of the arctic tundra. Most of the south of the country was stiff grassy fields and towering basalt cliffs, yet to the east the country was a mess of wetlands, marshes, bogs, bayous. All choked with thick low hanging mangrove trees and tall grass, even in summer the air in the east was freezing as was the murky water. The few roads that snaked this area were wide, made of stone, now moss strewn and slimy, under my boots it made wet squelching sounds that began to really irritate my ears.

Whilst the others all chit chatted away I was out front, eyes keenly peeled for any sign of danger, my left hand on the pommel of my sword. Of all of Dragonhome the east was my least favorite place, I'd been raised down south, near the Shattered Shore. Where Dragonholme's borders met with Mirodel's, or more or less met with the Narrow sea that divided them. No the Marshlands had me uneasy, the murky grey water, the stiff breeze but most of all the lack of natural sound.

My Squire's voice was all I could clearly hear, he was quietly chatting to his new friend about the Dragons pulling the wagons. The other folk accompanying the wagons were all women, young women, some Salt born from Volthume, others looked Ironn born from the highlands. Surely that sick lizard wasn't intending to make them work in a brothel, that was just wrong, though from the looks of things they were sheet workers, laundry maids. Still, the thought kept my vacant fist clenched tightly, quivering with the desire to beat the lizard to death.

I found myself more focused on that then my surroundings, my ears turning in more so to my squires conversation then them urky marsh.

“No I never saw Mayoran, I was born and raised in the Lowlands, very pretty down there, beautiful beaches" the chubbier lizard said, his teeth chattering a bit in the cold air, he quickly slipped a more suitable coat on and bundled up under it.

“Why come here though, it's freezing...and it smells funny…" my Squire asked in response, looking around and scrunching his rounded snout up at some feted smell.

“I'm looking to build and open an Abby, make my own ale! T'is been my dream for years to do so, im thinking something mild, spiced maybe, I'm not sure though" A sigh left my lips, closing my eyes for a moment as my fist relaxed and I shook my head. I had so many voices bubbling away and I was angry at everyone of them, I knew all it would take was a few more and I'd lose it. I brought my right hand up to my chest, clutching at the locket there in the small pouch at my breast plate strap. Ears ringing, voices fading I could hear something else, shouting, hissing, groaning.

“Roderic!" came a voice that of my Squire's, my eyes snapped open just in time to be filled with the view of an attacker. It was horrid, thick chain hauberk plated around the chest with leather, steel helms, muddied Greaves, mercenaries by the looks of things.though the one bearing down on me was clearly not alive. Pale slimy flesh, eyes and jaw forcibly blown out by thick roots, stiff inhuman movement and a coarse screeching voice.

I was caught off guard only for the slightest moment, stepping to the side swiftly, letting the shambling thing stumble past me. Bringing my right hand to my Pommel and drawing my sword, it was nothing special, just a normal bastard sword, dark polished steel, red tanned leather grip, long pommel. A singly flowing motion was all I needed, the weight of my blade arching under arm as I turned on my heel and ran the point up along the things spine.

Blood poured from the wound, the mail having broken apart on the back where more roots threaded through the flesh. Whatever it was it collapsed stiffly without a sound, but it wasn't alone, the caravaners huddled near the wagons, pressed tightly as more of these things slowly clawed up from the mud and water of the marsh.

My Squire most surprisingly had procured a dagger from one of the stiffly shambling things, he now pulled their attention away from the pudgier lizard and the women, cornered by the wagons. A noble act since the Dragons couldn't do much in their current harnessed positions, perhaps I'd finally be ridden of the wretched lizard. There was a groan from behind me, more of the things, more Taken, though as I turned my confidence wavered. I was met with the mauled face of a Vestal, a healer, a sister at arms, her long leather cuirass now coated in mould and moss, the steel gauntlets long rusted, flesh greying. How long had these lain here, what was this, my grip tightened as she stumbled toward me, arms flailing, riddled with sharp root ends almost like claws. She ran herself through on my blade, pushing defiantly to the crossguard, my arms outstretched, head pulled back, those flailing wooden talons just grazing my cheek and pauldron.

Behind me the chubbier lizard was valiantly working to free one of the Dragons, if he was successful this fight would be over rather quickly. But I was too preoccupied to help, two more of the taken wretches slowly bearing down on me as I tried to rid my blade of the defiled Vestal. I resorted to pulling my blade back, dragging her with it, using momentum to send her sliding off it and stumbling to the ground, my backhand took care of the other two, their vine riddled throats spilling out thick clotted blood and sap as they collapsed backward.

I turned to face the Vestal again, this time dispatching her quickly, driving the point of my sword through her as she slowly rose, putting an end to her. My Squire was holding his own somehow, weaving through the taken, crippling them with quick slashes to the legs and knees. I quickly dug a hand into the pouch of supplies William had given me, producing a bound scrap of parchment upon which lay three vertical columns of script and a symbol etched below them.

Turning once more to face the newly risen souls I held the parchment out, I hesitated once more though, it was like we we're on some mass grave, so many just kept dragging themselves from the stinking mud and moss. Though those advancing toward me would quickly burst into flames, as the parchment in my hand slowly burned up, scrap spells, material magic, weak but effective and easy to use. Another three down but more and more seemed to come, what was taking that chubby lizard so long to free the Dragon from the wagon harnesses.

I backed up slowly, looking back, trying to see what was happening, but as my eyes returned forward I found myself staring at something I'd only ever been told tales about. It stood clearly on the road, tall, limbs made of wood and bone, stripped from animal or men, its head was nothing more the then skull of a deer, bleached and clean, antlers and all. The body bore some sort of metal armour, stolen from a corpse, long since rusted and battered and its lower body was coated in heavy mud drenched furs and moss.

“Leshen…" I muttered to myself, a form of golem, so the Necromancer wasn't inept and he did intend to take the Crossroads, no doubt he had some other evil blocking the other roads, preventing help or supplies. I could feel the voices ringing once more, my face twisting into some visure of deep fueled anger as I rose my blade in both hands.

All knights of any worth had a Mark of Valor, a casting seal, devine magic of some sort depending on what they upheld. For knight's like myself it was valor and chivalry that granted strength like no other. I had chosen to bind my seal to my left gauntlet, a circular band within lay interlocking sigils, the center bearing the skull of a Dragon, his Mark, Targon, the God of Valor, deity of Knights.

I took in a deep breath as the defiled corpses shuffled toward me, the Leshen simply watching with its hallow sockets. I could feel power flowing into my limbs, any sense of fatigue was suddenly gone, as was the weight of my armour and sword. Swing after swing the vile husks toppled till I stood before the tall beast of wood bone and clay, its long limbs striking out at me, claws of ivory and hardwood seeking to rend me. The first few swings only grazed me, scoring thing lines in the leatherwork and chain of my armour. Even with surging anger and divine magic coursing through me I could only move so fast, I wasn't particularly young anymore. The next wing I managed to intercept with my blade, cleaving through the twisted roots and wood easily. The Leshen felt nothing though it was a golem, a mindless being of accused teachings,it simply kept attacking with its other limb, silent save the groaning of its body and the surrounding minions.

My next opening would surely bring the beast down though, I ducked down, under a swing before raising, following through with my blade, leaving its head to roll back and slap wetly into the mud. Though to my dismay even this did little to slow the Leshen, it's last remaining limb still lashing out at me as its chest heaved and pulsed till I saw a more human skull rising to take the former heads place.

With one final stroke I pulled my blad back, tucked it down and drove it point first into the chest, right in the center and at once the Leshen recoiled. Its minions all howling as they collapsed like fetal old men whose bones could no longer hold their weight. The Leshen itself simply falling apart till all that remained was a tainted blooming black bulb, oozing a tar like sap that hissed and sizzled on my blade.

The fight was over, victory yet bitter knowing the crossroads and my friends were in danger, but I couldn't afford to let this lead slip away either. If the church had have just let me lead the investigation I wouldn't be in this situation, who were they to deny a father his revenge. My fist clenched tight around the locket again as I cleaned my blade of the bulb and its vile sap, turning to check on the others. My Squire was still alive, painting with a few scrapes, his friend had a nasty gash up his thigh and the women were all untouched if shaken.

“We need to move quickly, to BerryBuckle, we need to warn the garrison there at once." I called out, signaling the Dragons to double their march as I sheathed my blade. Turning back to the road and staring down at the dead Vestal who had came at me before, I stood there, thinking.

Chapter Four: Walls

BerryBuckle I had always remembered as being quiet, narrow cobbled streets all following the dip and rise of the land that was their foundation. Stone homes and buildings with wood tiled roofs, most coated with a film of sleet or some sort of frost. Though arriving to see a tall log wall of strong redwood being built around the towns boundaries did elicit concern somewhere deep within me. The town was preparing for an attack, fortifying for war, evident by the swathy gaunt faced workers and soldiers clad in the colors of Dragonholme, lime green, silver and black.

The smoke billowing from the fire far to the south could still be seen in the skies, though much less thick now as they bled into heavy rain clouds. Marching up to the yet to be built gates of the encompassing wall I did breath a sigh of relief though, there was a detachment of soldiers and even knights reading to head out, hopefully for the Crossroads. By the time I'd made it up to the lip of the hill the town was built upon it had started to rain, swiftly turning the frosted dirt into freezing mud. The wagons struggled to climb the incline as I stood there waiting, but my focus was on the approaching regiment and the knight that led it.

“Ah, if it isn't Roderic the Black, and to what do we owe the pleasure"? The knight asked, he was one of the knights I had trained alongside at the Moore Keep.

“Tanis… I see you're just as friendly as always" I muttered as the sunken eyed man sauntered up beside me, the soldiers following him marching onward slowly.

“Come to lend a hand have you, we could use all the good fighters we can get to fortify the Crossroads, and MerryMire, but let me guess, you've got something more important to do yes"? He said in his usual sarcastic, jaded tone of voice, the same one that had irritated me for years during my youth, he'd always been jaded, his father abusive, racist, his mother distant and yet here he was, a knight.

“I'm tracking a murderer, a serial murderer...I can't let him slip through my...The Churches hands once more…" I could feel my fists clenching up as the wagons I'd escorted finally trudged through the opening, my squire waving his friend goodbye before coming to stand by my side, Tanis's brow raising as he did.

“Murderer huh, hell, I could take a murderer right now, the more hands the better, guess I'll just save Niyla myself then...hmm. What about you little lizard, you want to follow this old man or come save lives"? Tanis said, his tone bland, emotionless, his gaze falling upon my squire, quite frankly I prayed the lizard would accept, he was only a weight to me.

“...To be honest I'd much rather go home…" my squire responded, his sight shifting from me to Tanis, his tone irked me quite some, he sounded like a tomboy, some less than feminine farmhand or some such.

“Dragging others from their homes now, aye Roderic, you really do run a unique trail of woe don't you…" Tanis replied, stepping forward toward the squire I hadn't asked for, whom quickly retreated a step or two in response.

“He's my squire Tanis, leave it be…" I growled, my fist clenching around my pommel tighter and tighter, me and Tanis had never liked each other.

“Please, you, mentoring an Ezala Khal, an unarmed one to at that"? He said, leaning in, speaking low, his tone flat, we had once been friends back in childhood, we would play games in the fields with the Velkenfolk kids, but time changes things.

“He was appointed to me by the Church, it was not my decision, we didn't have time to fit arms or armour for him before leaving on this assignment." I responded, turning away to spare myself from those hollow mossy green eyes, that pungent breath of his that smelt of his favorite meal, mixed onion stew.

“You're supposed to be in Rigel Roderic, protecting you're 'Squire', just like you, always doing whatever you want, never following rules, never caring for anyone but yourself…" Tanis said, accusing, starting, of course the Church would reach out to the Knights of Solitude.

“I will not let him slip through my fingers Tanis… he is mine and mine alone…" I muttered through gritted teeth and clench fists.

“Save it for Ulmnii, and get out of my sight I have a fort to secure...people to save, go fritter about hunting your personal vendetta." he said, turning up his lip, his tone gaining some feeling to it, though nothing pleasant as he made past me, toward the road east. With an entire regiment of soldiers, and a pair of knights, as well as Niyla, the Crossroads would be safe, it'd take a small army to take it with that many reinforcements. Though still, I worried, even though me and Tanis didn't get along I still had to ask.

“...Keep them safe will you Tanis… Niyla...William, Solda, please"? I said, turning slightly to watch him march away, for a second he stopped, looking over his shoulder back at me.

“No ones taking this fort from me Roderic, nor the citizens within, not while I draw breath" he replied, and that was that, I watched him march off along the north road, after his men and fellow knight. I did catch a glimpse of a Daemon flying over head as a scout, but from this far It could simply have been a crow.

I didn't have time to waste, Yoel was skittish, squirrely, I was to meet him in a tavern, there was only one in town, The Three Men. it was along one of the wider streets, one of the bigger buildings, three or four stories tall, all wood from the ground floor up. With the rain pouring down now the uneven streets would become slippery, rain washing through them in channels, pooling in ditches and dips. Finding the tavern in a town like this was difficult, finding anything in this town was hard, it was like a maze, a true maze.

I made my way down those uneven streets from the yet to be constructed gate, retracing memories to find the tavern, my Squire following quick behind, I could hear him splashing through deep puddles, snickering to himself. Eventually I found the building I sought, and just as the sun began to set behind the dark clouds. I made my way inside, the lizard slipping by me quickly and making his way to the firepit immediately to warm up. Looking around I couldn't help but breath in, gasping slightly, the building hadn't changed at all since I was a boy. I could remember coming here with my father a few times, most of those times were to buy nails or rope, and sometimes we had stopped here in the tavern to wait out rain or storms.

Though in the dim light of the tavern, I did not recognise any of the faces, for none of them were the one I sought, so I took up a seat by the nearest window and waited. My gaze became fixed on the stained glass, channels of water running down it from outside, it reminded me of a time long ago. Something from my youth, back when Yoel, Tanis and I were all young, we'd built a fort in the branches of some grand oak tree at the far end of a wheat field near our home town. We'd gotten stuck there one day due to the rain, the next day Tanis and I had scavenged for scraps of glass of cuts, to use as windows to keep the rain out if we'd ever gotten stuck there again due to it.

I remembered the time Yoel and I had stolen wooden training swords from the Crossroads and pretended to be knights, even Tanis had joined in. Sawyer often played the bad guy, and sometimes Nicky joined in to, she made quite the bandit leader. I felt sadness deep inside, I missed those days, I missed the days were I didn't have to worry about Necromancers, murderers, monsters and the like. I missed the days back when Yoel would perform up in the trees like some theatrical and drucken jester or bard. I missed the days when Tanis would search out wild mushrooms to sell for extra coin, just to buy chocolate for the three of us to share. I missed Sawyer, Nichole, Hamlet, though we all missed Hamlet.

He'd been a friend of ours years back, he and Tanis were like brothers of a sort, but Tanis's father was a racist, the sort of racist that was aggressive and violent, he didn't take well to his son befriending the likes of a Velkenfolk. The truly sadistic part however was feeding his sons best friend to him. My stomach still turned just remembering that day, we'd all arrived at Hamlets home, a cottage like den in a small patch of grass near the woodline, the sight was ghastly and that day had ruined everything.

Sawyer and Yoel they had both moved all the way to the west, to the capital city of Solitude, Tanis, he endured his abusive, drunk racist of a father for a year or so more before finally breaking, taking the bottle to his face one night. And to top it all off, my mother absconded away with me to Rigel, “bad influences, savages, freaks and monsters" she called them, my former friends.

And now here I was, back in my true home, already the memories of everyone I had once known and loved all flooding back to me. The good times, the sad times, but it always came down to one of three days, the three horrible days that ruined everything, the day that had cost me my friends, the day that had cost me my father, and the day that had cost me my childhood. If I could just go back, just to change one of those days. But that'll never happen, that's not how life worked.

Chapter Five: Bounties

I sat there for a time, watching as the skies darkened, the rain grew heavier and the winds bellowed and whistled through the crooked narrow streets. Mug after mug of warm mild mead kept me awake for a time till the candles burnt down to the basins of their holders, the liquid wax snuffing them out eventually. Yoel wasn't coming, no doubt he'd already frittered away back to his home in Briar's Harth. Once more I had let the chance to find answers slip through my fingers, three years of searching for that haggard bastard, the one who had killed my only child, my beloved Beatris.

It had been a night not to unlike this one back in Rigel, there'd been a knock at the door and a thin, starved looking man of no house or home. I'd welcomed him in, fed him, sheltered him, only to wake and find my child kidnapped. If only it had been that, but no the Church found what was left of my child but a week later, cannibalised. With only her silver locket remaining, the same one I now carried with me on my hunt for that ragged twigy man, she'd only been a child, just five years old.

For three years I'd begged the Church to let me lead the hunt, but every single time they said no, said it'd consume me, drive me down a dark path, but every time they turned me away my anger only grew, when all I wanted was answers. Pain and anger was all I felt these days, though upon setting foot here, back in my home sadness, truma, it was all amplified, all those horrible memories, all those bad things that happened.

Now I was just some errand boy for the Church, all I did was track down people the Church was interested in, mostly just relaying information from source to source and nothing more, I wasn't a Knight, not anymore. The last time I had done anything truly selfless and knightly was years ago, aiding in the march on Duskwood, an old disused fortress in the south west of Dragonholme. I was used up and old, but I wasn't going to stop hunting this one last target, this last mission.

That night wore on slowly, and I spent it mostly in silence, sitting there in the corner by a small fireplace, watching the rain outside, staring at her locket, thinking, remembering. My thoughts and turmoil were broken by cheer and roars, looking up I was surprised to see my Squire was the center of attention. He was running up quite the treasure trove through games of darts, he'd procured a pair of more pristine daggers, even a good pouch of coin. Though in the back of that onlooking crowd of cheering drunkards I did spot a shadier figure. The helm he wore, that cuirass, the make of his equipment, and the scroll of parchment he idly glimpsed through now and then told me all I needed.

A bounty hunter, a wandering knight of sorts, whose allegiance was to that of the Keeps, if one was here then he was hunting for someone, surely not me, the Church wouldn't go that far. It was the figure that said bounty hunter occasionally turned to talk with that had me curious. I watched as those two figures pushed through the crowd slowly toward me, though my brows would only raise as the second figure finally came into better light.

“Sawyer"? I found myself muttering in surprise, Thomas Sawyer, my old childhood friend, from those days long ago, he'd moved to the lowlands of Mirodel last I saw, his parents concerned for their safety.

“Roderic, I never thought I'd ever see you again"! He explained in wiley joy, he'd weathered a bit over all these years but is pelt still held its vibrant autumn orange hue. Sawyer was a Velkenfolk, basically a talking woodland animal that stood upright like a man, they hailed from E'Veldan, which was within the Advent Soverignty.

“I… I thought you… I'm glad to see you again Sawyer, it's been...too long" I said after taking a breath and letting out a sigh. Sawyer climbed up into a spare seat, he only stood a mere five foot tall, about average for Velkenfolk who took after foxes. Though I was surprised to see him clad in light fitting scaled armor, a few thicker steel plates on the chest and shoulder with leather grieves and gloves.

“Hahaha, It has been a while hasn't it… how've you been, I see you're a knight now, i see at least one of us found our dream come true" he said with a chuckle, of all the things to change his voice wasn't one of them, it had always been the perfect mix of charismatic and daring.

“Tis...a husk of a former dream, nothing more…" I muttered in response as my eyes fell on that tiny silver locket in my hands once more, another loud cheering roar from the barflies as my Squire won yet another game of darts.

“...So, what brings you back home hey Roddy"? Sawyer asked me, drawing my sullen eyes back up, thought not to meet his own but rather to watch his taller companion, the bounty hunter; though presumably they were both of the same profession.

“I was hunting down a murderer, a cannibal, I was supposed to meet Yoel here, he had information on the man I seek but...he hasn't shown up yet." I responded, sighing once more and leaning back in the heavy oak chair, staring once more out the stained glass window.

“Guess no one told you he's dead huh…spirit festival sacrifice, willing of course...guess he really wanted to see his father again, wonder if he's playing bobstones with Hamlet in Deepnest…" the fox answered, sighing as well as he fiddled with a small sickle sheathed on his belt, a small man catcher by the looks of things.

“...I hope so, Didn't know there was Deamen festivals here in Dragonholme…" I muttered, my eyes trailing along the glass following the drops as they weaved there way down the window, I didn't know much about the spirit festival, only that it was randy and wild.

“So, murderer huh, got any info on him, me and Cyle here might know something"? Sawyer said, tilting his head a bit, perking up some, shrugging off that little tidbit of information, though he'd probably dealt with that already in his own way.

“Sadly not, bald, male about 5'7, thin, grey eyes, that's all…" I replied, feeling a little bit saddened now, though also happy, Yoel had lost his father at a young age to fever, he'd wanted nothing more then to meet the man who'd made him, in a way it was cheerful, if morbid.

“Hmmmm, maybe Baron would know something, he oversees all the incoming bounty notifications for all of Dragonholme, besides we're due back up at the Grand Keep anyways, just gotta pick up the bounty were working right now if you wana tag along" Sawyer said, smiling and shrugging casually, I let out another sigh as I stared up at the ceiling for a moment. The Grand Keep, one of the Nine Keeps, fortresses owned by the Healing Hand, devoted to a number of things, training Riders, housing Dragons, teaching the ways of the ancient Knights, devines, even bounty hunters.

“Hm, sounds like a solid idea, very well I'll join you, who is your current target anyways"? I asked, straightening in my seat and finishing off the last of the mead in my mug.

“Lizard boy over there, someone wants him dead, five hundred gold Sou, major payday, gona hit him up as soon as he leaves easy mark" Sawyer said, jerking a thumb at my Squire, needless to say that rose my brow.

“Ahem and just who is wanting my Squire dead exactly"? I questioned as I stashed my Daughters locket away safely and brought the fingers of my gauntlets to mesh together before me.

“Wait, he's you're Squire, really...huh, I dunno who's paying the bounty, the bounty came through via Icarin messenger last week, said he was a royal fugitive, said he was responsible for the bombings in Siricuse…" Sawyer said, looking over at my Squire then back to his partner and shaking his head before returning his gaze to me.

“He isn't a royal fugitive, or a terrorist, though he does belong to the Nagan princes personal harem or some such… I was supposed to stay in Rigel and 'babysit' him till the Prince arrived, but I can't let this killer slip away…so I brought him with me" I responded, eyeing the Lizard myself for a bit, his winning streak had come to a respectful end, with him now counting coin and reward alike as the barflies dissipated.

“Guess that bounties off then, fuck killing him, the Prince will pay out the ass for his property back, hell we'll probably get some special reward, hehehe thank Frith" Sawyer said, rubbing his paws together with a cheeky looking smile of delight, Sawyer had never been one to back away from uncertainty opportunities.

“Praying to the Gods now aye Sawyer, you know the Prince would be more inclined to eat you then reward you" I muttered as my eyes grew heavy, it was near midnight, the full moons over head shining through cloud and rain.

“Hey, you keep faith with Targon, I keep faith with Frith, besides, on the list of shitty ways to go, being eaten by the Nagan Prince is better then most of the other shit that kills folk round here, hehe" he snickered hoping off his chair and stretching out, I stood and moved to follow him out of the tavern to whatever lodgings he and his friend had. A sharp whistle brought my Squire and his stash of loot in step behind me. Though now my head was filled with even more thoughts, even more questions, and I found myself doubting my statue as a Knight.

Chapter Six: The Keeps

Sleep was hard that night, I barely managed to get an hour in and hence spent most of the rest of the night making sure my equipment was in good condition. That and counting out my Squires winnings from his run of darts at the tavern. The little Lizard had amassed an impressive haul, thirty silver pieces and a further fifteen in copper, all Sou, the currency of humans as it was more aptly known. Just plain circular coins stamped with a variety of royal sigils, other then that he'd scored a rune stone, a pair of steel daggers, and even a small metal buckler shield, it made me raise a brow at just how such a small shield had come to be.

The others all slept soundly, warm in cotton sheets while I sat there, keeping the dying embers of the fireplace alive. I was tired, though not in the sense one would think, I was tired of chasing this one man, I was tired of always being a step behind and I was tired of being a Knight, I wanted to retire. But that wouldn't happen, not till I got my answers, I was so close to having them, I could feel it, I just had to wait a little longer.

The four of us left BerryBuckle early in the morning, headed north toward that towering glacial tundra that loomed behind the mountains. Even from here I could see the proudly standing Keep off in the distance, waiting for us. I had a good feeling in my chest, the rain had stopped, skies were clear and the sun was shining brightly. Though storm clouds loomed over head in the distance, a blizzard was moving in over the tundra, even from this far away I could feel the harsh winds.

“Brr… damn I hate winter, especially this far north" Sawyer said, sheltering behind me, using me as a windshield just as my Squire was.

“Well your people are more used to southernly temperatures after all, it's your fault for migrating so far north." My Squire commented, I was surprised he even knew that sort of stuff, E'Veldan was right on the equator, the temperatures weren't as harsh as the north's but they were still mild in its own way.

“Yeah and you'r people hail from the tropics, so were both on par" Sawyer retorted as he held himself close to my shadow as we marched.

“So, why a bounty hunter"? I wound up asking a few moments later, curious of how my friend had slipped into such a notorious profession.

“Oh… well to be honest it was to bring justice to Tanis's father for that whole...thing with Hamlet" he said in response, slowly trailing off with another chattery toothed shiver, we both went a bit quiet after that, and for good reason.

“...I heard Adler's in prison now, something about Tanis putting him there…" I muttered back, my eyes falling on the cobbled road beneath my feet.

“That he is, still just as blatantly racist to, and violent, glad to see him finally rotting in a dungeon." and that it was, it brought the slightest of smiles to my face for just a moment or two before I looked back up at the looming mountains. Being a Knight of the Church may not have been my choice but being a Knight in general was something Hamlets savage death had empowered me to work toward, so I could bring some sort of justice for my friend.

“Rotting in a dungeon is to kind for that man" I said in response under my breath, the air growing colder and colder with every step taken, snow now piling up over the path and surrounding countryside.

“The King's Vestals say he might have been under some sort of forced control, there investigating it but I say he should get the gallows…" Sawyer replied, shivering behind me still, I paid is comment no mind, the laws of Knight hood would compel me to give the man a fair trial regardless of the crime or evidence.

“We should pick up the pace, or that blizzard will bury us, don't want to be blind as we climb the Passage" came the slightly muffled voice of Sawyer's friend as we came to the rocky foot of the long, steep climb of stairs that lead to the keep high above. My gaze rose up along the sheer mountain side, The Grave Range the mountains were called, a long wall of steep mountains that border the north of the county, a defining line separating the Valleys from the stretching frigid tundra beyond. The Passage was a towering set of stairs, that wove back and forth between flat landings carved into the cliffsides, the steps wide and short, but numerous.

We began climbing immediately, the wind picking up as we climbed, now carrying with it snow, our progress went slow, visibility steadily dropping as we went, thankfully the Passage had stone railings all the way up, just over waist height. All of us wound up slowing down toward the top, climbing so many stairs was beginning to take its toll, though strangely my Squire powered ahead rather effortlessly, leading all of us on quietly. Strangely I found myself envious of his stamina, I remember being young, being able to run all day long, seemingly never running out of energy, I missed that. Though staring at his tail swaying back and forth as he climbed on ahead of us began to get rather irritating.

My thoughts would become random at that time, watching the oddly irritating if not hypnotic sway of that reptilian limb. It reminded me of the woman I had fallen for, before I had become a Knight, a beautiful Icarin lady, gleaming red feathers like fire, passionate and full of life. It wasn't meant to be however, my mother had seen to that, as had the Church, though I did find love eventually, with a very frail woman of my own kind, childbirth took her from me however. Climbing those last few steps to the entrance of the Keep, I was filled with that strange longing for someone, that tugging in my chest, I gave out a sigh, relieved to be done climbing stairs but also feeling something else I couldn't quite put a finger on exactly.

The Grand Royal Keep was a trualey imposing sight even in the snow laden wind, the entrance alone was impressive, a long fifty foot slab of cut stone, brazzers on the railings leading to the towering stone building. The majority was embedded into the mountainside itself, portions of smooth stone could be seen extending outward and upward though.

“Thank Frith, ugh I hate climbing all those stairs…" I heard Sawyer whine as we all approached the sheltered towering doors, the entryway sheltered under more stonework. The construction was simple, but the carvings were intricate, weathered and old.

“Come on, let's get inside before my tail falls off…" He added, pushing on one of the heavy looking doors till it stood ajar, welcoming warmth pouring from inside. My Squire quickly darting inside, followed by Sawyer and his friend and lastly myself, though I hesitated a bit before entering.

Inside was warm, spacious, the first thing I saw was a long wide room, a feasting hall, towering ceilings, wooden rafters and a long narrow fire pit running along the center, around which stone tables and wood chairs were placed. The walls decorated with tapestries, grand carvings and antiques of all sorts an shapes, though the space itself was scantily populated. I saw a few people, seated at the far end, were the tables were generously piled upon with food.

Sawyer immediately relaxed, stretching out as he made his way toward a doorway on the left hand wall, his friend following suit, leaving me and my Squire standing there alone.

“Hmm...I recognise one of the people down the back there, the raid haired one, she was at the Palace in Siricuse…" My Squire muttered, I rose a brow at his statement, squinting off at the far end of the room. Indeed there was a red haired woman, and one that looked rather familiar to me, I could feel my fist clenching up as I strode across the room as calmly as I could. I knew the woman in question, she was an Assassin who offered her skills to the Church. The moment she saw my garbs she tensed up, turning away.

“And just what is an Assassin doing here…" I asked, grabbing her arm tightly, she was wanted by the Church and just about every country in the world, save those of the Advent sovereignty.

“I could say the same about a Knight of the Black Church" she retorted, several nearby patrons swiftly standing and gripping various weaponry. My other hand moved to my pommel as she wretched her arm free from my grasp.

“I remember you from the Palace grounds in Siricuse" My Squire interrupted, seemingly oblivious to the tension of the situation, though his appearance and statement quickly caught the Assassin of guard.

“...You, y-you'r alive"? She stuttered with a bewildered look, the awkward tension in the room suddenly breaking as she looked around.

“This isn't the place to talk, follow me…" she added rather hastily, turning on her heel and marching off down a wide hall in the center of the back wall. I tried to follow but was swiftly stopped by a pair of bare chested men weilding Kano clubs, my Squire however freely slipping past them and out of my sight.

“And where do you think you're going" one of the gentlemen said, leaning in a bit close, I would make a move to push past but I was severely outmatched in this room. The Kano clubs alone would cripple me if anyone got one good hit in, they were made to crack bone through armour. I was about to say something when a voice cut me off.

“Enough, leave the man be". Came a familiar voice, my head turned immediately to its source, stood there at the other end of the room was a whisp, a specter, someone I knew all to well, someone I missed dearly.

Chapter Seven: Questions without Answers

My body was tired, I hadn't slept much these last few nights, ever since waking up in that hospital in Rigel sleep had been difficult. Images of that specter still rattled around in my head, it made it hard for me to close my eyes and as of late it was showing, shadows forming under my eyes and a general decline in energy and focus. A bout of Ale in the tavern last night had briefly brought back some alertness but it had worn off thanks to the resent climb in the freezing cold.

Another thing that had my mood rather sour, first the boat ride, I hated it, I hated boats full stop as of this forced 'detour' to return me to my owner. I had been dizzy the whole time, not being able to stay steady on my legs, every bite of food or water I consumed would come back up an hour later and it went on for three weeks.

And only to arrive in a frigid, cold country I knew little if not anything about, the moment I had stepped off the boat my body told me I didn't belong here. Sure the heavy fur cape I had been provided with staved of the freezing cold but It did little for the wind. And then of course there was the even on the road were I was attacked by corpse-tree monster things.

The only positive things I had experienced were a single night of blissful sleep with one of my kin, meeting a Dragon and defending myself against monsters. And now I was here in this huge stone fortress in the mountains of a foreign country, following this stranger from one room to the other in order to hopefully get an answer or two for some of the questions I had. I had seen her back in Siricuse, she had dropped off food to Seht's room on the Palace grounds in Caprii, now I was discovering she was actually an Assassin, and seemed to know who I was.

“Who are you exactly, you were the maid that brought us food back at the Palace…"? I asked, the tone of paranoid exhaustion present in my feminine tone. At this point I had given up my act, my tail now dragging on the ground as I trudged along the stone halls after this woman.

“Yes I remember, I was paid to keep an eye on you" she said, turning down another hall, her pace not wavering at all as I trudged along behind her.

“Wait...what"? I asked, momentarily pausing on the spot with confusion, now I just had more questions, and this woman probably didn't have all the answers.

“Paid by who? Why"? I asked trying to shake off the exhausted feeling that had begun to settle over me, though I did still have one of the daggers I'd won neatly tucked up my sleeve, just in case.

“I don't know who paid me, some old guy in a sharp suit, never saw his face, thought you were dead though after that huge attack on Siricuse. I looked all over the Palace and that Naga's Zeppelin for you" She said, shrugging and turning down yet another hallway then into a small room, personal dwellings of some sort, empty save a hammock and a simple desk.

“Wait! You saw my Owner? My friends? How were they? Please…" there was some desperation in my voice upon disgorging those questions, I was genuinely worried about them, Bastille, Tahl, even that prick Mathias and his boy toy Neil.

“There all fine, they looked all over for you to but the Naga wound up getting escorted home with the others. Well all save two, lizards like you, one red the other pink, they ditched Siricuse on a trade vessel headed to Havenfell." she explained, turning to face me and leaning back against one of the walls, arms crosse, stern expression.

“What about Seht…"? I asked after a moment's pause, of course Mathias would ditch Master Virgil, he'd probably wind up dead in a gutter, or at least I was hoping.

“The Satarian you were staying with? Hes fine to, little shaken up last I saw him, worried about you as well, he's had a detachment of the Aunt Vedn looking for you ever since you disappeared" she told me, her posture lightening a little bit but that stern calculative look on her face remained and it made me uncomfortable.

“Why are you traveling with Roderic…"? She asked me a moment later, her voice sounding irritated, it was clear the two of them knew each other to some extent.

“I didn't have a choice, he was supposed to keep an eye on me while I stayed in Rigel but instead he whisked me away here for some reason…" I replied with my own irritated tone of voice, I was more than over this whole ordeal, I just wanted to go home, not that I knew what home was presently. I had a rough picture in my head of what it looked like but at this point and time, brining it forward to view was difficult due to my tiredness.

“You look exhausted, you should get some rest." The woman said after a lengthy pause, notioning to the hammock behind me. It was tempting, more then tempting, but I wanted answers, and I was hungry, stiff and in need of a hot bath.

“You might as well, Blizzards set in, won't clear for a while, if we're unlucky it'll settle in for a good few Scores." she stated, moving from the wall to the door, intent on leaving me be for the time being before turning to look me over once again.

“I'll be keeping an eye on you again now that I know you're alive…" she added before disappearing, her footsteps nearly to faint for even my ears to pick up. After making sure she was gone I would duck out of the room and wander, following my nose, sniffing out the smell of soap, musk and hot water to find a bathhouse of sorts, upon which I was quick to strip of my belongings and run a bath for myself. The baths here made entirely of stone, carved from a solid slab by the looks of things but the hot water was delightful on my scaled hide and It did good to wash away some of my aching and tiredness. It was nice to finally spend some time alone with myself, as I scrubbed the bar of soap along my stiffer limbs I had time to think and clear my head formulate a plan and hedge my bets.

Some time later when the water had begun to cool I would slip from the bath, instantly wincing at the freezing stone floors, missing the insulative aster flooring of my Owners Zeppelin something dearly as I went about drying and redressing in the clothes I had. The simple leather and cloth tunic given to me at Rigel, as well as the bearskin cape and Tahls gift, stowed preciously away from sight. I tucked the daggers I had away as well before following my nose down the maze of halls once more to find food.

I found myself once again at the huge entrance hall, two heavy carved wooden tables stretching the entire length of the room nearly, though only a few feet toward the back end of the room would be graciously laid out with fresh food and unfamiliar faces. I approached cautiously, hungry and ill wanting for speach or company at the moment. I found many a pair of eyes on me however, mostly that of men as I went about crowding a plate with foodstuffs. Favoring what I was familiar with over the unfamiliar, roast chicken, bread, cheese and as I was reaching for something round and red a scaled face appeared before me, smiling and curious.

“Greetings kin"! Exlaimed a Vermian like myself, velvety black scales all over, light milky grey skin on his underbelly and jawline, with the brightest purple eyes I'd ever seen. I felt at ease seeing his face, something familiar to me in this foreign freezing place.

“Greetings, didn't think I'd see another Vermian up here" I said, setting my plate down to talk more comfortably with this stranger. He seemed happy to see me as well, obviously not having seen his kin in some time.

“Oh yes oh yes, not many of us around these parts, no no no" he said, chirpy and quick, he gave me the impression that he was not all there in a scene. I went to say something but was rudely interrupted by the growling of my own stomach, I forced an awkward smile.

“Hungry hmm, long travel I bet, company of man isn't bad but lonely without kin around, not as much fun, lots of rules here, lots of things Digger isn't allowed to do" he continued, his face and tone of voice going through moods rather quickly, it reminded me of Neil in a way, only more exacerbated. He gave me a smile, scratching at his arm as he rapidly went about loading a plate of his own with various things.

“You should try the roasted tomatoes, don't have those back home" he said, a little quieter this time, as if afraid that his presence was off putting me. I tilted my head though, not knowing what this food item he mentioned was, I'd never heard of it before though judging by his plate I guessed it was the soggy looking grilled red object I had been reaching for earlier.

I added it to my plate as well as some sort of sweet smelling bready thing before I turned to leave, wanting to eat in peace back at the room the Assassin had offered me, I hesitated for a moment before turning back to Digger.

“Wana join me"? I asked him and he darted rather quickly under the table on all fours, standing on the other side and snatching his plate up again, falling instep behind me with a wide smile.

“Oh yes yes yes Sir, Digger happy to join kin for feasting" he said with excitement, together we strode off into the maze of halls, though Digger began to ramble I would be lost in deep thought, wondering what was next.

Chapter Eight: Old Wounds

It was like staring into the past, I remained frozen in disbelief, it couldn't be him, he was supposed to be dead, yet here he was, my dearest of childhood friends. Hamlet, though not how I remembered him, he was more weathered now, taller, older, burn scars lancing the right side of his face like claw marks. Suddenly the room seemed to sway under me, I found myself reaching out for support to steady myself, I was dreaming, I had to be.

“H-how…" I managed to choke out, my voice seemingly having left me somehow, and yet he simply smirked, turning on his heel.

“We've a lot to talk about Roddy" he said before disappearing off down a corridor, without a moment's hesitation did I move to pursue. It couldn't really be him could it, this had to be some perverse magic or trickery. I moved down the corridor after him slowly, hesitantly, heart pounding head throbbing, thoughts rattling around my head like a cup of dice. He slipped through a wooden door, leaving it ajar slightly, from inside there was steam and the smell of soap and hickory. I stood there for nearly an hour, poised with my hand a near inch from the wood of the door, wanting so badly to open it yet so hesitant at the same time. Eventually I forced myself to move forward, taking a deep breath and letting out a sigh as I stepped into the room,

The room was small, the word cosy came to mind as I looked around for my friend, I found him sitting at a writing desk, back turned to me.

“I know, I'm supposed to be dead right, you probably have a lot of questions" He said, just his voice alone froze me in place, it was so distinct to me and it brought back a flood of buried memories.

“Adler…" was all I could say, all I could force my mouth to form, the questions all pushed at my lips trying to get out but only trapping themselves.

“He did attack me yes… more than just attack, but he didn't bake me into a pie as he told people, though I'm inclined to believe I'd be rather tasty, heh" he said, jokingly though his tone hid pain, it was faint but it was there and it made my hands tremble.

“Don't joke about that...we all though…" I stuttered, voice quivering as I stepped forward, was it really him, with a bad joke like that it had to be, he always cracked poor jokes like that.

“Well, gotta keep that positive mental attitude up, can't dwell of the negatives so why not laugh about it" he said, half turning in his chair to face me, a wide buck toothed smile on his face, it was him, he would say that exact line, I remembered it. Without even thinking did I fall to a knee and snatch him in my arms. An embrace, one that I held as long as I could, I felt fur on my neck, brushing the whiskers of my beard.

“Eeep! Mph well this is happening" Hamlet said with a bit of a surprised squeak but I didn't care, I had my friend back, so much anguish, pain and mourning just washing away, collected over years and now it was all falling apart, dismantling. I would eventually release him, falling back and sitting on the floor, with a thump of sorts.

“I...I don't understand we all thought you died, the guard's they didn't find your body"? I said after a pause to compose myself, my head lifting to meet his eyes, well, singular eye as it were, his right seemed permanently closed, most likely empty to, yet his left was as vibrant an autumn gold as it always had been.

“Adler, he came in the night, drunk as a skunk, lantern in one hand, rum in the other spouting his nonsense as always. He set my families home alight...I... I was the only survivor, I crawled my way from the fire to the stream and I guess I passed out and floated downstream. When I came to I was in a cabin miles to the south right at the edge of Inland Sea. I was nursed back to health by a very kind man who lived alone in a strip of woods, it took me many years but...I came back, my testimony put Adler in jail, but he'd apparently already been admitted to an asylum, lost his mind as it were. Now I'm here" he explained, giving out a sigh at the end of it, his shoulders slacking some, voice wavering in places as he spoke.

The two of us sat there in silence for a good moment or two, I crossed my legs lost in thought, head hung. My whole life in Rigel had been forced, I should have stayed, if I had would things have been different. My silent thoughts would be broken by Hamlet as he slipped from the chair he sat upon, it was only then did I see his leg. More so his foot, the right hand one, it was missing, replaced by a unique looking prosthetic just above the ankle.

“How...extensive were the burns…" I asked, quietly, the only other noise in the room; other than his wooden foot on the stone floor, was the flickering of the candles as Hamlet went about lighting them.

“I lost my foot, my eye, a lot of my fur, most of its grown back now but there are some patches the Vestals say will never grow back…" he said sullenly, looking down at the replacement limb as he moved to place logs in a small fireplace. I pulled myself up to offer my help, for a while nothing was said between us.

There was a room adjacent to this one, a private bath house of sorts, I helped him run water and heat it before I left him be to bath, not going any further then his dwellings however.

“Sawyer...he knows doesn't he… why didn't he tell me"? I asked from the main room, listening to the sounds of water splashing, I had begun to strip myself of the heavier plating of my armour, its weight becoming uncomfortable.

“He did, Yoel to before he…" Hamlet began to say, his voice trailing off quickly though, as children he and Yoel had been rather close friends.

“I know, Sawyer told me…" conversation felt odd, the two of us had been brothers in a sense, but we had grown up apart and now here we were, but we weren't at all the same anymore.

“I know why you're here Roderic, Yoel told me, he passed on the information he meant for you before he...ahem, I know where the man your looking for is, and my condolences for your child and wife" He said, I hung my head once more, pulling my breastplate off, setting it aside and clutching her locket, my daughters.

“Sawyer said someone called Baron would have the information I needed, I take it he meant you"? I asked, as I stared forlornly at the sole memento I possessed, the only physical memory of my daughter. In the background I would hear the sound of water dripping on stone, the ruffle of a towel.

“Technically I'm an Earl not a Baron" Hamlet responded, hobbling back into the room, towel tied around his waist, just looking at the scared numb at the end of his leg made something painful stir deep inside me.

“You own land"? I asked, sitting upon a long low bench, now absent of my heavy armour, bare with a simple cotton tunic and trousers. Watching as my friend hopped across the room to trifle through his own wardrobe for something to wear.

“That I do, before the man who nursed me to health died he gave me the deed of his land, I turned it into a small grove, a town of sorts, the first Velkenfolk colony in Dragonholme." he explained, replacing his towel with a simple tunic, what looked to be silk of some sort but it only covered his top half.

“I see the fire didn't reach anyplace important" I commented with a slight chuckle, I copped an eye roll as a response as well as a cheery smirk.

“Thankfully, I don't fancy living as a eunuch" he replied, rubbing his damaged eye, stretching out at the same time with a sleepy yawn, up here closer to the tundra the days were short, very short.

“Want me to leave, you seem tired"? I asked, standing, the difference in height between us was much staker now, the tips of his ears only just reached bottom of my collarbone, even absent a foot he nimbly leaped up onto the small bed neatly packed into one corner.

“I was just going to sit and read for a while, if you wish to stay you can but if not speak to Sawyer, he'll set up a room for you and your Vermian companion. This blizzard is going to stay for awhile so we're all stuck up here till it passes." he said, pulling the covers back and sliding under them, wriggling to get comfortable and using the pillow and bed head to sit back against. I wanted to spend time with my friend, even if it was spent in a small cluttered room and in silence, I felt better then I had in years knowing my friend was alive.

I would leave the room hours later when he had finally fallen asleep, closing the door of his room, my armour hefted over shoulder. I made my way down the hall to the next room over that was empty, baren save a bed and a lantern, I would stash my belongings here before leaving to explore and think.

Chapter Nine: Down Time

Sleep was sound for once in to long a time, so many weights had been lifted from my old and troubled mind, a mist of blocked memories had lifted, closure making space for new thoughts. Though not to say there wasn't still troubled thoughts as well, that first night all I could think of was Hamlet, all the old memories of me and him as childhood friends. They had once been a thing of pain, now they brought me joy again, I couldn't fight myself back as I left the pillows damp with tears of joy that night. A grown man crying joy, a knight at that to, no, not a knight, not anymore that was for certain; no longer would I bear that title, it now brought pain where it had once brought purpose.

Outside the blizzard raged on and on, down time; something I rarely had, something that had me bored and unsure of what to do. Those first few days I spent wandering the halls like a lost dog, stairways, hallways and rooms all unending, even my Squire had found better company to suit, the Assassin giving him pointers in a training pit, scrawny black lizard always watching on. Sawyer was busy himself, the Fox being his normal boast worthy self, busy writing records and tales, or just speaking them aloud like some true fable spinner.

The other people here all seemed distant from me, young men and old from all nationalities, even a few from Volthume by the looks of it, and Advent to match. I was out of place here and I didn't like that, I was to used to having direction. With a lack of it I found my way back to Hamlet, i found my old friend pacing a grander room, something akin to a war room, fit with a long heavy oak table that stretched its length. He looked so small compared to it, just this fragile little bundle of fur sat upon the table itself. I found myself with a lack of courage just standing within eye shot of him; hesitation, something else that was new.

“Writing poems again old friend…"? I asked, stuttering a little; whilst his eyes didn't raise to meet mine but his ears did lock onto me in an instant.

“Hmph, no, alas I gave up on that after Lara told me to, how did she put it 'stick it up your rabbithole' I think. Anyhow, what's got you milling around like a lost lamb"? He asked, putting aside his feather quill and gazing up at me; the dull green of his working eye had my fingers curl into one another, fidgeting.

“I'm...I'm just unsure of what to do" I muttered, taking the seat opposite the table of him; the distance was some meters though. And it was true, I didn't know what to do, should I push forward? Seek vengeance, or just let go of it all, grow old somewhere and enjoy the day's I had left with my friend. It was like the God's had given me back some small part of my hope, my virtue, my innocence.

“Well, you are a knight are you not, you came all this way to find killer. Hmm, speaking of which tis bout time we spoke on that" Hamlet said, rising up, starting across the table toward me; the metal hoof at the base of his now wooden foot made a notable and echoing noise as it clopped against the wood.

“I don't know if I want to keep going, I've obsessed over it for to long…" I muttered, kneading my hands together in front of me. It was an obsession at this point, an unhealthy one that had consumed to many years of my life.

“What happened to your sense of chivalry and valor hm? Where's the brave soldier who fought back a tide of husks hm. You remember that one don't you Roddy, you lost a tooth if I'm remembering correctly" He said, bringing back a flood of memories, I could remember that exact moment to. Me and Hamlet alone against an army of imaginary husks, our wooden swords fending them off for hours, until his backhand copped me in the mouth and knocked one of my teeth clean out.

As I remember, it was you who knocked my tooth out, you have a lousy backhand Hamlet, always did" I said with a chuckle, bringing my head up, coming near nose to nose with my old friend; It always had that rabbity twitch to it.

“Yes well I use a spear now, no backhand needed anymore" he replied with a wily smile before he put his paws to my shoulders and put his forehead to mine. Something we used to do as children; Hamlet had told me rabbits communicate through body language and that it meant the same as an apology.

“I'm sorry I didn't come back sooner friend…" he muttered, voice filled with shame even though he had no reason for it.

“I'm sorry I left… I should have run away, searched for you…" was my reply; we held our pose for some moments before he broke away and sighed.

“So, what do you know about this Bastard then…" I asked after a lengthy pause of watching Hamlet pacing back and forth in front of me.

“His name is Raim, Raim Clauss, from Aldoran, he died as a young man, but someone brought him back, someone who knows the ways of that...that fucking witch…" Hamlet spat the last part, his lips drawing back, ears and tail both standing on end. The Witch he referred to was most likely Arcanis, a long dead heretic who sought to usurp the gods and seize ultimate power, needless to say it didn't end well for her.

“So...A Shade then, that's...a pain" I muttered, deep in thought, there hadn't been a Shade since the fall of the second great war.

“Yes… not good. Paliv, an Incarin training here, spotted him hiking north in the tundra, possible heading to the old Layman tombs from the first war" Hamlet said with a heavy sigh, paws clasped behind his back as he stared at a point on the table. Being a war table it's face was flush with a detailed map of the world; Hamlet started now at a point just bast the Great Northern Divide, the mountains where we currently sat within. The Divide did just that, a long range of mountains that formed the border between Dragonholmes basin and the endless tundra of bleak snow and unending ice.

“The Layman tombs huh. You positive about that? There's hundreds of tombs up there" I said, leaning back in the heavy oak chair I sat on, rubbing my chin. Facing a Shade was dangerous, they weren't to be screwed around with; Hamlet knew it and so did I.

“Fighting a Shade won't be easy, especially in a tomb…" I added, drawing in and letting out a deep breath as I tilted my head, thinking.

“Well there's the Assassin, and your squire for starters" Hamlet suggested, turning on a dime to face me, his face also deep in thought.

“No...Kaiber shouldn't come, he's ill prepared… he'd freeze long before we reached the tombs, he should stay here with the Assassin." I replied, I wanted to protect him, it was the right thing to do even if I was considering renouncing my title of Knight.

“Well… Hmmm I do have some people I can count on, namely a Vestal and a Bounty Hunter to name a few of the top of my head." Hamlet mused to himself, muttering away as he put a paw to his chin and began to pace again. The both of us had a long moment of pause, the both of us lost in some deep semblance of personal thought, I didn't know what was racing through Hamlets mind but I knew what was in mine.

“This is the last campaign for me Hamlet...I'm resigning after this...knighthood was forced on me...and it's been nothing but hardship since." I said, finally breaking the silence, my voice heavy with something, an emotion that I couldn't name at that moment, whatever it was it pushed hard against the words as they came out. Hamlets face softened, it took upon that warmth and friendliness it had back in days of youth, it set me at ease.

“Knighthood was never for you Roddy" he said, giving me that wild wily smile from years past, even though one of his eyes was scared white his gaze still had that boundless youthful life in it.

“You were always a leader Roddy, you should think about joining us here." He added, holding out his arms, smiling. Affection, another new thing I was unfamiliar with, something that had died with my daughter, I was hesitant to accept it but I pulled him in for a tight embrace regardless. The warmth of his autumn patchwork fur, the softness, it was all so familiar to me yet it wasn't the same as when we were children. But it still had the same effect as back then, washing from me all the doubts and fears I had.

“I… I lo…" I tried to force the words out, I wanted to say them, but I couldn't, I loved Hamlet like a brother.

“You don't need to say it Roddy, I know" He said and for the longest time did he sit there, curled in my arms just like some wild animal, silent the both of us, yet happy as well.

Chapter Ten: Layman

The tundra was bleak, it looked something to close to a blank canvas, just unending white and cold, the winds here were visible like waves over the loose snow. We had left the Mountains and the Keep behind some three days ago now. It was just Me, Hamlet, a Vestal by the name of Triss and a Bounty Hunter, the same one I had met in the Tavern back in BerryBuckle. I had decided to tell Kaiber what is was doing, he understood why I didn't want him to come, the Assassin said she would keep an eye on him for me. I promised him that after this I would take him to Mayoran, so he could go home.

Now it was just us four, racing along over the ice and snow via pack dog pulled sleds, I no longer wore my Black church knight armour, A smith at the Keep had made something more fitting for me, it'd taken the better part of a score but with the Blizzard, I had little to do but wait and plan. Now that it had finally cleared up enough to travel we were fast on our way to ending this, and yet I felt empty. I had no drive for this anymore, the rage for this man was mute, he'd just been a puppet for someone else.

The Layman Tombs were an hour off, e could see the crumbling stone monument lay at its entry, now buried in snow and caked with ice.

“Wooooooohooooo"! Hamlets voice pierced the cold howling winds as his head popped out of the pouch of thick furs strapped to my sled. His fur was like parchment in the wind and his ears remained stubbornly erect in defiance of the wind but his joy was sincere. It made me think about Niyla, perhaps a career in racing was a good way to spend my retirement. Then again retirement ment I had to survive this encounter; in all my years of Knighthood I had taken upon many a beast and fearsome foe, but none like a Shade.

But I wasn't a knight any more, at least not in my head, in my head I was tying my best to focus on Hamlets joyous glee. For it was the only thing that hung in the air that was positive, not the tomb before me, nore the howling winds, or the silence of my compatriots, only Hamlet; it took the fear from me, the uncertainty.

“Woooooohoooooo haha, now this is how to travel aye Roddy"! He howled out into the wind as we slowed out sleds. I could only shake my head, though I was smiling under my helmet.

“Enough fun and games Hamlet, we've to be on our guard now…" I replied, stepping from the wooden sled, the dogs having stopped some feet from the entrance of the tomb whimpering and whining, willing to go no further.

“Oh you're no fun anymore Roddy" He said, hoping from the sled himself, his tone something of coy playfulness, but his composure quickly became more professional and guarded as the other two sleds came to a stop behind us.

“We'll set up a camp here while the winds aren't so bad, we'll go from there" he added, Cyle began to unpack equipment from his sled, not saying anything as he had done the entire trip. Lastly was the Vestal, Triss a quiet lady, once a beautiful one till falling victim to a Fanatic one day, now her face was laden with horrid burns; she to said little from under the green hood of her garbs.

“Should we scout the entry chambers"? She asked, her voice directed at Hamlet, it was a hoarse voice, just as burned as her face. He shook his head, turning again on a dime and moving to help Cyle with setting up a camp.

“No, it's wiser to be cautious here, we've no idea what's in there, best to go in together." he said as I stood there, staring into the dark abyss of the tombs entry, the stones long frozen over, the smell of pure lifelessness and despair creeping from it and turning my stomach as my fists clenched tight.

And there I remained, like a statue as the others all set up, stowing the sleds and the dogs under a swiftly erected canvas tarp that was strung from the monuments crumbling limbs. Just staring into the waiting maw of stone before me, the threshold right before me soon to be broken as I lost track of time.

I was brought back by Cyle's touch on my shoulder, his faceless helmet popping into view, the sky had turned to dusk by now, I'd stood there literal hours, unmoving. The camp had been erected around me yet I had noticed none of it, my obsession was near to be confronted and yet it still had me under its foot.

“Ready"? Hamlet asked me as he climbed up Cyle, taking a special strap at the shoulder in his paw and hooking his fake foot into a sort of stirrup at the waist, his Spear at the ready. I gave him a nod and with that did Cyle take the first step into the black, I followed with and lastly Triss brought up the back; no going back now.

For a moment it was just pure darkness, until a torch was struck, flames blazing to life and illuminating the narrow passage of dark cold stone. I had my guard up, my eyes scanned everything they could see, and my hand was poised on the pommel of my sword as we descended into the Tomb.

The entry chamber was at a rather steep angle, it sloped downward and widened a few meters in, the pillars in the center held the ceiling aloft but a few of them were failing, one was shattered entirely ad there were scorch marks all around; they were fresh ones to. Cyle nor Hamlet made any comment on them as we passed them by, nor did they stop to investigate them, but i heard Triss curse from behind me.

“Fanatic" she spat under her breath. I gripped my pommel tighter, if there was a Fanatic lurking down here as well then our task had just gotten even harder. We soon came to level ground, the first of the actual Tombs, nothing more than a long, wide corridor of stone with an arched ceiling and dozens of small outcrops set in the walls were the dead lay, wrapped in cloth, with arms and armour still at their sides as well as coin and belongings. All four of us paused a moment, half expecting them to leap to their feet and charge us, but It didn't happen. It seemed odd, Shades were suppose to raise the dead, that was their thing, it's what made them dangerous, but these hadn't been touched, no runes or hexes lay upon them, nothing was disturbed.

“Something's off here Hamlet…" I whispered, his ears twitching and swiveling all around, trying to pick up any sounds.

“I know…" he said before we pushed on down the hall and into the next chamber, there were small craters in the stonework on the floor as we went; something about them bugged me. As we entered the next chamber I realised why; in the center of the room, on its knees, sat the Tombs guardian, a behemoth of stone called a Titan; and its hed was shattered into a million pieces all over the room in blast like fashion.

“That's not good" Hamlet said, his paw clenching the shaft of his spear tightly as we all approached. Triss and I fanning left, Cyle and Hamlet going right around the dead Titan, I had really gotten to the Guardians front when I felt a warmth engulf my body. A moment later did a blast of dark black flames consume me; I threw my arms up to protect myself but they washed away a second later leaving me unscathed and facing a scalded and towering man with a dead, lifeless smile.

A Fanatic, sonaris mad men steeped in unhealthy obsessions with fire and pain; Triss had obviously cast a barrier spell to protect me, she was sharper than me as it seemed. I drew my sword quickly as Cyle and Hamlet quickly joined me and Triss, blocking the Fanatic between the four of us and the stone corpse of the Titan. He uttered but one word through that tortured smile.

“BURN"! He boomed, his voice like thunder in these cold echoing chambers and with that he brought his maul up and swung it wildly at Hamlet, the face of the weapon glowing white hot and etched with a cruel brand. Cyle ducked backward, the Mauls head missing his helm by but an inch but it went wide, forcing me to duck under it. I brought my sword up under armed and severed the heathens hand at the wrist; he only smiled wider, not reacting to it at all.

I brought my blade down, leveling its point at him, Triss was right behind me, ready to cast another barrier spell if needed, Cyle had his axe at the ready, his other hand twirling a tight coil of rope with a pronged hook at the end; but still the now unarmed Fanatic just smiled.

Then Hamlet turned, his ears drawn to the sound of heavy footfalls, Triss had my back so I turned but enough to glance back, and then did my gut fill with dread.

There at the other end of the Chamber stood a pair of towering figures, one a man the other a woman, their faces practically burnt off, Mauls in hand.

There were three Fanatics.

Chapter Eleven: Fire and Stone

There were three Fanatics, but where was the Shade? If he had three Fanatics at his beck and call then surely he was no novice, was he waiting somewhere deeper in the Tomb? Why, he could easily have us dead if he were here. My gaze was brought back to the Fanatic in front of me, his unhinged chuckling didn't do well to put my mind at ease; especially as I watched him cauterize his stump of a wrist with a smile. I didn't waste any time, the one before me was vulnerable and unarmed, I lunged forward with the point of my sword, aiming to skewer the man through the chest.

My blade was stopped however, the Fanatics hand snatching it, keeping it but an inch from its mark even though the blade sliced open his hand; yet still he didn't react to it. I gritted my teeth, took a step forward and shouldered my pommel, pushing as hard as I could but the Fanatics arm and grip barely gave. No it was Cyle who delivered the demise, his hook snatching the Fanatics limb and pulling it away, though with considerable effort. But it freed my blade, I pulled back and took a swing.

My blade went through his gut, just below the ribcage but still the Bastard didn't react, he just turned and stared right at me, smiling. I wretched my arm back once more and this time I brought My blade down on his face, splitting it down to that permanent, lifeless smile. With that did the Man finally fall, his body collapsing to the side stiffly, I quickly pulled my sword from the dead Fanatic and turned to face the other two.

“Not worthy, weak, weak." One of them muttered through lipless teeth as Cyle worked to free his hook; Triss was still at my back, mace at the ready.

“Look brother, they brought us a vermin to eat, how thoughtful" The other said, the woman, her voice was calm, cold, I didn't like it; and I especially didn't like the way she referred to Hamlet. I tightened the grip on my Sword, readying it, Cyle and Hamlet fell in next to me, also at the ready.

“BURN THE HEATHENS"! The male of the two bellowed, gritting his teeth as his very veins began to glow like fire and smoke billowed from his breath before he charged. His Maul came up under armed, the head dragging on the stone flooring, before swinging upward one handed, sending bouts of flame everywhere. The four of us split to avoid it and the frenzied Fanatic took after Cyle and Hamlet, leaving Me and Triss to deal with the calmer one.

I would much rather have fought the frenzied one, his calmer counterpart frightened me, her approach was slow and her eyes were locked on me. The her gaze was something I was all to familiar with, rage, anger, it was a thing I had once bore myself.

I was more worried about Hamlet then I was myself, but nonetheless I forced my focus on the towering figure before me. I found myself wondering just how a woman could be so freakishly tall, she however was quick to break those thoughts. Her Maul coming out in a short swing, held just under the white hot head of them weapon, she followed up with a kick but I was quick to dodge both with a pair of backsteps. But now I was practically nose to chest with her, I had no room to swing my weapon so I did all I could, I shoved her back; or at least I tried to.

She didn't budge an inch, instead she shoved me, with a single arm she had me stumbling back a half dozen feet. Before I could regain my footing she was already brining that Maul down overhead in both hands. It struck my chest full force, but once again the damage was negated by Triss's quick casting of a Barrier spell; the Fanatic growled in annoyance. I was on my back now as the Fanatic pulled the Maul up and readied to bring it down again and once again did Triss intervene, casting a spell of sanctity on the Heretic.

The reaction was immediate, the Fanatic reeling back, Mual falling from her hand as she clutched at her face as it began to blister and melt. I took my chance, swiftly getting back to my feet and bringing my Sword up and burying it in her neck, the point driving through halfway down the blade, her dying screams of agony cut to gurgling noises as her Body fell to its knees.

I took a moment to catch my breath, and to free my blade, there was still one more of these things to take down; Hamlet and Cyle were keeping the frenzied Fanatic at range, but just barely, and they were running out of room. It took me some effort to yank my blade free and with that Me and Triss ran over to help the others, their foe was still swinging wildly with reckless abandon, each swing accompanied by waves of fire; the bastard had near set half the room alight by now, everything other than the stones of the tomb now burning brightly.

I ran the point of my Sword up along the heathens back, his heavy leather coat saving him from most of the damage but catching his attention. He half turned to me, swinging the Maul outward in a wide arch, I dodged back, the face just catching me on the shoulder, a glancing blow. I reeled back, grimacing in pain, but the deed was done, and with one well aimed thrust, the narrow point of Hamlet's unusual spear opened the last Fanatics throat. He stumbled, but didn't fall, not till I swung my sword down to finish the job, a one handed wide arch that lopped the bastards head off and sent it rolling on the floor.

With the last one dead I stumbled back, dropping my sword and seating myself on the crumbled arm of the dead Titan; undoing the straps for my shoulder guard.

“Fuck...dammit the bastard got my shoulder…" I growled through gritted teeth, my arm hung limp and agony now began to radiate from my shoulder. Triss was quick to position herself behind me and suddenly the pain lessened.

“Bone's shattered, sit still I can heal it" She said, her voice sounded rather peppy, cocky even, perhaps just satisfied that we had just killed three Fanatics. Hamlet swiftly dismounted Cyles back, and began to trifle through their coats, looking for anything of note.

“We got lucky… these three were overconfident in themselves, only one of them tried any magic on us. If they had been more cautious we'd all be dead right now" He said, pawing through pockets and pouches; all it produced was useless trinkets. Cyle gathered their weapons, stowing them to the far side of the room just incase and began to drag the bodies together to burn so they couldn't be resurrected.

“Were in Hel'imn is that damned Shade…"? I cursed through a wave of pain washed through my shoulder, the bonds being knit back together like stitch and fabric under my skin. Hamlet darted across the room to where the other two Fanatics had come from; he returned after a few moments, deep in thought.

“The next chamber is collapsed, it's inaccessible and the antechamber to its side is a dead end, it looks like the fanatics have been using it as a camp… but there are signs of a Shades presence…" He muttered upon returning; something was still off about all this, something didn't sit well with me.

“Argh...s-somethings still not right here Hamlet…" I said, my shoulder finally coming back together; the pain however was still intense. Hamlet knew I was right, the way he stood there deep in his mind told me he had a rather troubling thought rattling about in his head.

“This doesn't make sense, there's nowhere to go from out here, there's nothing important in thee tombs, no relics of power anyways." He said scratching at his chin; perturbed and confused look upon his face.

“Maybe he's hiding deeper in the tomb, past the collapse, could be it happened after he came here"? Triss suggested, stepping away from me, letting me test the repair of my shoulder; it'd need some rest but it was near good as new.

“No the collapse looked old, at least a hundred years…" Hamlet responded, his gaze stared off into the abyssal nothingness of focused thought. I stood, tenderly applying the plates of my shoulder guard with a few winces here and there; also lost in thought as I looked at the now burning corpses of the Fanatics off in the corner. My gaze then scaled the length of the room to the entry at the far end behind us.

“Let's search the camp thourgherly, maybe one of them left a clue or something to tell us where that Bastard is" I said, setting off toward the entryway with a stiff hobble, picking my sword up and resheathing it. Hamlet nodded, remounting Cyle as the others fell in alongside me; I had a bad feeling in my gut that we'd all just been played somehow and that this had just been some elaborate death trap.

Just for us.

Chapter Twelve: Stranded

The Fanatics campsite within the ruins offered little else then stomach turning and garbled poorly written notes. The four of us tossed the place best we could, trying to find any information but there was nothing. Though Hamlet stood facing the caved in passage just outside rather than helping us; probably lost somewhere deep in thought as he usually was these days. Of course none of us noticed him climbing his way through a small gap in the long crumbled stone, that is until he cracked open an old stone doorway hidden at the back of the room. Secret passages were common place in the Northern Tombs; a way for embalmers and such forth to traverse the trap laden passageways safely.

“A little help here please anyone" came his voice from through the wall, Triss was quickest to find it, the door itself hidden behind an illusion, a hex set up by the Shade we sought. Cyle and myself managed to force the doorway ajar after Triss dispelled the Illusion for us.

“Hiding in plain sight. Shades, coward the lot of them" I cursed under my breath, I had read about Shades and what they could do; however I had neglected to pay much attention to said information, that or old age was catching up with me.

“Be on your guards compatriots" Hamlet said, leading us on down the newly opened, narrow passage, said passage had seen use lately. The frost and dust on the stones had been brushed away, now there were blood trails, most were red but one was distinctly different. One might have mistaken it for blue paint if they were uneducated; I knew it to be the blood of a Vermian.

“You think they've a Pagan down here to"? I muttered to Hamlet as he remounted Cyles back, his ears twitching away as he thought. From the little I knew of the darker schools of magic, Pagans were more favorably accepted, though most were Vermian.

No one said anything on the matter through, a foul and stale smell suddenly washing through the tunnels, something akin to the stench of a mouldy library. It seemed that only I showed any reaction to the smell, gagging a little as we pushed on around a corner and into a small antechamber.

We spilled out into the next passage ready for combat but we were met with just another empty chamber, elongated like the prior one, though this one was lit by torchlight and had many a hanging cloths draped from ropes strung up across the room. They were old, looking to be sheets of some sort, though there was a foul smell in the air; that of putrefaction. We all sheathed our weapons and began to spread out, looking for clues yet still onguard encase something was lurking about.

I pushed northwards, toward the far end of the room, pulling back the sheets of cloth as I went, I found tables stocked with jars of expired and fermenting embalming liquids, fat and organs. A moment later I found low slung stone tables with a crevasse running down the center of them, though the stone was smeared with a black soot like residue.

“This was a morgue, these tables here, they have drains for the blood and fluids, this is an entombing chamber, where they removed the bodies blood and fat before burial. The morgue in Rigels capital is uses similar tables" I called out to the others, I received mutterings as a response and a confirmation from Triss. I pressed onwards till I reached the far wall of the room where old mouldy wooden cabinets and shelves held all sorts of old and long unused tools and tomes, though no sign of any Shade to my dismay.

“Found that Pagan over here" I heard Hamlet call out, I moved back along the room till I found him and sure enough there lay a dead Pagan, frozen stiff in a cage and bled dry by the looks of things. Pagans blood was mildly poisonous to anyone but themselves, but it wa useful in some alchemical formulas, most of which were looked down upon rather harshly.

“So no sign of our supposed Shade hmm"? Hamlet questioned as he pawed through some dusty old book left laying atop the cage. This little game of cat and mouse the Shade was playing us was beginning to get on my nerves at this point; I let out a sigh.

“Looks like he isn't…" I started, but Triss swiftly cut me off with a resounding “Over here"! Called from the other end of the chamber. I turned, hand on hilt ready to draw my sword and strike, making my way back through the hanging gorefest. Triss was over by the corner, her gaze affixed to the desiccated remains of a man, the man my ire had been so focused upon for so many years; the Shades former puppet.

The sight was ghastly, laid out on one of the stone morgue racks, near every bone in his body visible through greying, stretched skin. Eyes sunk deep in the skull, yet breath still came from him, his eyes slowly crawling up to meet my gaze. Whatever hate or vengeance I'd had evaporated instantly as I feel down upon a knee.

“You… I remember… you… he made me…" his voice was faint, dying, dry, he had to take deep wheezing breaths between nearly each word but the light of his eyes told me everything.

“Tell me where he is, I will smite him for what he has done" I replied, to be a puppet to such evil for so long,, I couldn't possibly imagine the torture of it. Though just by looking around the room I could at least guess.

“He...wont…let...me...die" he said again wheezing heavily, his arm, raising slowly, shaking as if unable to support its own weight. His skin was darkening, dissolving into smoke slowly, suddenly the blackened marks on all the other vacant tables became clear.

“Tell me where the Shade is and I will make him suffer" I asked again, though with more desperation, his arm moved slowly, feebly till it pointed southwards, the bones beneath the now smoke like skin began to turn black.

“Doubled back...in the storm...headed to the keep...hasn't left yet…" my eyes widened from those words and turned to the others, our reactions where all the same, we all bolted for the entryway.

I was faster than the others, even Hamlet with his prosthetic foot was lagging a little behind, but then again I was fueled by rage and a desire to have this evil dead by my hand and my hand only. My Casting Seal burned through my gauntlet, filling me with energy, the hefty armour I wore weighed nothing to me in that moment and as I burst out into the freeing wind and snow I didn't stop charging.

The figure before me was no doubt a Shade, blackened skin scrawled with runes and writing, the lack of hair and the fact that he was levitating; all dead giveaways. I made to spear tackle him but before I could close the gap I was suddenly frozen in place mid step, my limbs held by invisible chains that I could feel yet not see; A binding hex.

“So predictable" came an all to familiar voice and sure enough as the thing turned to face me I was taken aback by who I saw.

“Adler...so, it's an illusion you have sitting in prison…" I growled through clenched teeth, I felt a warmth washing over me, no doubt Triss working to break the Hex from the shadows of the entryway. Our camp was destroyed, the sled dogs slaughtered, the wind was picking up again, snow blowing about; another blizzard was building, another illusion.

“Tsk tsk such a clever mortal" Adler sneered, even though his mouth was sewn shut and his eyes were nothing more than swirling orbs of smoke his physical body was merely a catalyst, the blackened aura around him, that was the true Shade.

“Puppet or not Adler you won't get away with this" I growled yet again, I could just about move, I could feel the Hex failing, all I needed to do was keep him talking and soon I'd be able to strike.

“You should have stayed in Rigel, but instead you served him to us on a silver platter. You're Squires hide will make a lovely whip and I shall use his skull as a chamber pot while you and your pathetic friends freeze to death out here" he said, and with that he turned and slowly made off into the storm, cackling to himself as the Hex finally gave out and I rished after him.

Before I could make any ground though I was stopped once again, this time by the arrival of a fast moving mass of pitch black smoke that darted out from the tomb entry and landed before me. I quickly drew my sword and the others all did the same.

Before us rose a blackened skeleton with sharp fangs, enwreathed in smoke, a Marrow, we readied ourselves as it screamed into the howling wind, defining the roar of the Blizzard and as I readied to strike the beast.

Four more came howling from the tomb.

Epilogue

Lone high above the frozen tundras did a watchful eye observe the renounced knight below and the evil whom he faced against. The Mountain Tora was the highest peak in the world, towering over all. It was here that sat a well aged man, hair and beard that of ash in colour, his skin had a slight tan to it, his features were sharp and his eyes closed.

Yet he saw the former knight clear as day through the eyes of the towering golden Wyvern that sat behind him on the mountain. A beaked Dragon with the visage of some enormous bat whose steely eyes could see far across the lands if strained.

“The Shade makes for the Keep of the Divide" the Dragon spoke, not in tongue but in thought for the Man before him was a dearest of friends. Said man's eyes opened and his face adopted a look of deep thought.

They would not listen to us, we are banished from the Keeps, surely you remember that Sva'll" he said, not turning to face his scaled compatriot. The man had memories of being a leader of men, once someone trusted by all, now betrayed and absconded.

“I remember, but Tormin is old and the Keep is scarcely stocked with men to defend it, Theodore, they will need our help" Sva'll said, this time in tongue, his voice whispered yet it was heard as if spoken normally. The man, Theodore, he knew his friend spoke true, by the time anyone knew what was happening, the boy would be dead and the enemy would be one step closer to their goal.

“Can you make it in time"? Theodore asked, standing, brushing snow from the flowing tateres of his armour as he turned to his friend and began to climb the left wing up to the saddle.

“You know I can, from up here I could glide the whole way and still make it in time" The Dragon boasted as his rider slipped in in front of the shoulders and began to strap himself in, the saddle, the man, his armour it was all well worn, though maintained meticulously.

“No gliding today, War is coming Sva'll, show no mercy to the rising evils" Theodore said, voice booming out from the mountain top, the man's eyes glowing with energy as the cloud above began to darken.

Sva'll gave out a deafening roar as thunder boomed out over Mirodel, as lightning arched down from the skies and cradled itself in Theodores hands as if beckoned there by its Master. With that did Sva'll launch off from the mountain, wings folded, the golden beast letting gravity do all the work as they raced down the face of the mountain toward Dragonholme.

Toward War.