(Co-written with SkullsandSlippers)

The timekeepers say it is ninety two days into the 514th year of Jeytelh's ride.

-

Solaria

The Queen’s death, the strong possibility it was assisination and the method consumed Alleara. She wrote down what she knew, which admittedly was not as much as she would have liked. On top of that she wrote down every poison she could think of and its effects.

After all that the next list was the method of delivery. Her hands ached from the scribbling.

What if it was not poison and they just never announced how she died? A knife to the back? A slit throat?

Despite her earlier boredom with the talk of the funeral Alleara could not wait to view the Queen’s body for signs of the cause of death.
***
The day of the funeral she was dressed in light blue, a colour her mother decided was most fitting. The whole family bore the colour in some form or another from her dress to her father’s robe.

Alleara fidgeted. She was eager to go and get in what would likely be long line ups to view the Queen’s body.

Her mother frowned at her, scrutinizing the young woman. She was certain her daughter had some sort of plan going on in her head but she did not know what for sure. She vowed to watch her like a hawk to prevent the curious woman from make a fool of herself or her family.

Her father was lost in his own head as well though his thoughts centered around his newest creation. It was a bonding agent that would help hold all manner of things together though the mixture was still off currently.

The family of three left their home, Alleara’s mother ordering them to look as sombre as possible.

They would eventually join the many nobles and dignitaries present within the Palace of the Sun to give one last gaze to the departed queen's countenance.

The new queen sat with her entourage of maidens and servants on a balcony overlooking her predecessor's coffin filled with treasures. The last queen was draped in the finest fabrics and linens that covered her completely save her face. Guards were posted at the entrances, around the old queen's body, and on the balcony where Haniea sat. The young queen was not expected to say much during this day, her vow of silence would last until the funeral's completion.

The old queen was considerably older when she took to the throne, the timekeepers say she was around 33 when she was crowned. Similar to Haniea in terms of her rise to ruling Solaria, she was an orphan taken in by the Sisters of Jeytelh and she lived a monastic life. Unlike Haniea, the late queen became a Solar Matriarch and she was then chosen by the queen before her to be the successor. She ruled for approximately ten years before her tragic end came. She was struck down by fate, as some would have it, before she had the chance to name a successor.

Of course, some believe in fate, and others do not. Some believe in Jeytelh, and others feign belief in the Lord of the Sun, and he who founded Solaria. They say that the late queen's spirit will join his sphere that he takes across the sky. After her soul has circled the world of M'Sal for a year, it will be released into his domain.

The line of nobles was long. Too long. Alleara really wanted to get closer and it seemed like people were taking their time to look over the cold dead body. Dead body people, nothing special....move it along....

From her spot she could see the fabric covering the body and she huffed in annoyance. Her mother shot her a look and Alleara dropped her eyes to the floor.

She let them drift up. Guards? Who guards a dead body? What is she going to do get up? Someone going to try and kill her? Really....

The line moved in a slow shuffling manner. A hand tapped her arm and her mother pointed to where the new Queen sat. Alleara frowned at her mother but looked up anyway. The woman was young but a bit older than Alleara from what she could tell. She wasn’t the best judge of such things though. From her spot in line Alleara could see the guards that surrounded her too and the look on the Queen’s face.

I would hate to be in her spot.

It would go on like that, slow shuffling steps bringing her and her family ever closer to the body. She watched as some women played up their grief, sobbing and falling to their knees. Alleara rolled her eyes. As if they will win some sort of favour with the new Queen for their pretending.

Her mother sniffled beside her and Alleara’s eyes went wide. Not her too....

They inched closer. Alleara could make out the slope of her feet under the material. She leaned around the person in front of her in order to try and get a better look at the face. Colour looks fine. So that rules out a couple but means nothing overall.

The man in front of her grunted at her and Alleara stood back. She tapped a foot impatiently. They made it to the end of the coffin. Her mother moved past her and Alleara pouted. Her mother was more concerned with what was in the coffin with the body and how they had dressed her. Didn’t she realize there was a real mystery here? For his part her father simply walked as if strolling slowly down a street, his mind elsewhere.

Alleara stepped closer to her mother.

Limbs look straight, no distortion of the body. She mentally crossed off the poisons that caused the muscle of the body to seize and contort. It was almost impossible to straighten a body out once again.

A wound from a knife would require a thorough inspection of the unclothed body, something Alleara knew she would never be allowed to do. It disappointed her that she might never solve this puzzle fully. The young woman turned her attention back to poisons.

They were equal to the Queen's knees now and Alleara was scrutinizing every shape, bump or distortion of the material. If I could just get closer... Her mother sniffled again and then began to cry.

"Oh godness mother...." Alleara whispered harshly. Her mother fell to her knees and leaned on the coffin. It was like an epiphany.

"Oh mother...." Alleara tried to sound as sad and sympathetic as she could as she leaned in with her mother. She scooted around her to get closer to where she knew the Queen's hands would be. "Its alright."

The guards looked over at them but made no move to immediately dismiss them. They had been letting people have their moment before shooing them away from the casket.

Alleara moved her mother a little and the woman leaned heavily on the side as she cried. Alleara marvelled at her mother's performance, it was truly believable. As her mother leaned Alleara leaned though her hand slipped under the material. She grasped cold hand of the queen and she was immediately struck by the texture. Adjusting it slightly she exposed the fingers to her gaze.

One of the guards saw her caress the queen's hand, he simply paid no heed to what Alleara was doing.

Alleara kept one eye on the guards and her ears trained on her mother. The rest of her attention was on the Queen's hand. They roamed from her wrist to her fingertips. No lines tracing the veins so whatever it was, if it was poison did not leave a marked trail as it circulated.

Her mother became a mess of tears and sobs. Alleara growled lightly knowing the woman's behaviour was going to get them noticed more by both the other mourners and the guards. She gently turned the hand over to inspect the palm. There was veining here that should not be so pronounced. Alleara considered the possilbe causes. A few agents in the blood would show up on the palms but there would be other markers. She quickly made mental notes on the appearance of the palm before turning the hand over once more. One of the clearest indicators would be in the nail beds. Different chemicals and natural compounds left markers in the nail beds. With any luck, if it was a poison of some kind that killed the Queen it left a signature there.

Beside her Alleara's mother leaned into the coffin more. Alleara hissed at her. "Mother, stop that...you are going to get us escorted away!"

Her mother turned, red eyed crying mess "So horrible, so sad.."

Aleara moved huffed and went back to the hand that she held. Her eyes raked over the nails even as her ears picked up the sounds of footsteps. Great...just a little longer...

Haniea watched from high, noticing the younger woman touching the queen's hand and observing the body. To the queen, she seemed to find the late queen a curiosity.

Haniea whispered to her head servant, "Who is she?"

The head servant watched the woman as well with some interest, taking note of the people surrounding her. They were most likely her family.

"I believe that is Alleara Delegio of House Delegio. Her father works as an inventor of our technologies. One of the few notable names that are not of high noble lineage."

"She takes after her father well, do you suppose?"

"I suppose your majesty. There is a certain way that their minds work."

They observed Alleara keenly, waiting for perhaps some reaction or expression on her face.

"Khundis, what is she doing?"

"I...I am not sure myself, your majesty."

Now...they were indeed curious as to her motives.

"I want a private audience with her."

"Yes your majesty," Khundis whispered to some of the guards on the balcony. She pointed to Alleara, the soldiers nodded and left immediately.

The guard that was watching Alleara for some time finally lost his patience, "Alright, on with you."

He shooed her on, a bit annoyed, as if the queen's body was on for show.

Alleara frowned. "But..." And then she saw it. There were arches in the nail bed of the Queen's fingers. Blue. Not the kind of blue the skin takes on after death but a disinct blue arch in each bed. Her eyes went wide. Her mother leaned on her and she helped her walk away. She was super excited to get back home now. She had a lead.

Her mother still cried on her shoulder and Alleara resisted the urge to push her off. She played the dutiful daughter and walked her away. Her father followed, unaware of anything that had occurred.

-

After the nobles had their time with the deceased matriarch, the palace servants continued with the prior arrangements for a procession through the streets of Solaria. Starting from the Imperial Quarter, the queen's body was left before the open air within her casket. The guards carried her in advance of the rest of the procession. Following the past queen was the new queen, symbolic of the ushering of a new ruler. She was followed by her servants, and guards as well. The nobles followed after, with their own house and personal escorts along side the royal guards. Musicians playing in uplifting melodies followed behind.

They would stop once the queen left the Imperial Quarter, from that point, it was all silence through the streets. The people came out in flocks, in awe of the queen. Some had never seen her before, and were thus stunned by the beauty that had departed. Others shed tears as if the late queen was someone close to them, within their homes, perhaps to an extent within their hearts.

The Delegio's followed along with the procession of nobles as the Queen's body moved through the streets. Her mother, thankfully, clung to her father now leaving Alleara to her thoughts. Blue..only a couple who do that. I need to get back to the lab. She walked heavily annoyed at the pomp and circumstance around her It would be easier to pinpoint the nature of the poison and how it was administered if I could just get a full look at the body.

Alleara's father always preferred chemicals and machines to people and while she appreciated all of that, she liked the interaction of those things with the living world in a way that differed slightly from her father. They often used this slight difference in approach to help each other with their theories and research. She wished in this moment that she could ask him his opinion on what she saw.

The procession moved down the streets of the Imperial Quarter. As the nobles reached the border of the quarter they began to move aside and let the body and its escorts continue on. Alleara stood there for a moment and watched the procession disappear down the streets.

There goes all the evidence.

Her heart was pounding as she frantically tried to find a way to stop them taking the body away to the pyre. Alleara knew there was nothing she could do without disgracing her family and getting herself into trouble.

"Let's go now. Stop gawking. We can't be late for the luncheon."

Alleara turned to face her mother. She had composed herself now and the only evidence of her spectacle was her slightly red eyes. Alleara sighed and turned to join her mother. "So close...."

Beyond the Imperial Quarter, the queen's body would be carried through the other quarters, letting all the peoples that made up Solaria see her face one last time. The final leg of the journey would be the Gate of the Setting Sun. The gate sat on the western edge of the city. The timekeepers ensured that the queen would reach the gate in time for it to align with the setting sun. Once that was done, they would carry her body up to the western tower where a pyre had been prepared. Her funeral pyre would serve as the last light into the night.

After they had passed through the many quarters, the procession finally made its way to the western tower and mounted the steps toward the western tower to the platform. The guards lifted the late queen's casket above the pyre. Servants then placed Solarian crystals on the pyre, and as the flames lit, they changed from yellow to blue and began to dance toward the sky.

Haniea watched the blue glow stand apart against the fading orange of Jeytelh on the horizon.

Alleara was surrounded by people who were more concerned with who was wearing what instead of the mystery of the queen’s death. To them it was an excuse to show off but to her it was a puzzle that needed to be solved. She realized of course, that most of them didn’t give two thoughts about how she died. Even the women who had been gossiping about that very topic had now dismissed it and moved onto something else.

She nibbled on the food, though it was very good she had little appetite. The constant noise around her made Alleara annoyed. Do they not know how hard it is to concentrate when they drone on?

Her father was on one side of the room discussing something with another man. They seemed deep into the topic, whatever it was. They had paper out and were scribbling things furiously as they talked. The other side of the room her mother sat, tea in hand engaged in conversation with a group of women.

Alleara was expected to mingle, converse with those her age but she found the task almost painful. She moved to a corner and did her best to hide away. Here I can think... Her eyes moved to window where the sun was setting.

“It is time everyone.”

The crowd gathered near the windows to watch as in the distance the body was lit and served as a light for the people.

Alleara wanted to cry. Gone was the body, reduced to ash by the night’s end. The blue flames lit the sky and Alleara turned, shaking her head. The biggest piece of evidence is gone. I will have to solve this another way. It wasn't that she wanted to prove the queen had been assassinated, it was more that a puzzle had been presented to her and Alleara felt compelled to solve it.

[Co-written with VindicatedPurpose]

92nd Day

Dunes Outside of Protectorate City

The sun beat down strongly on Kaidman and the body he carried. For a mile, he limped as a sharp pain dug into the side of his chest, and eventually he stopped, quickly dropping the man on his shoulders and sitting down. By now, they had reached the entrance to the canyon, the rock walls surrounding a river flowing northwest.

"Ufh," the unconscious man let out as he fell onto the sand.

Some sand went into his throat causing him to cough. Mox tried to wipe it from his eyes, his face was bruised and scratched in various places. His hair had become sandy black, and his throat was dry.

He continued coughing to clear his throat as he surveyed his surroundings. He looked around, unfamiliar with this landscape. He was sure he was no longer within the city. He spotted another man who was on his knees with his back toward him.

Mox got up, stumbling, his legs were bruised. His torso felt battered, he grunted when he stood up. He felt as if he had been through a fight, but he remembered nothing. He was at his forge and then...as he thought about it, his head began to ache.

He coughed up some spit, which tasted grainy because of the sand. Some unnatural coughs followed before he finally reached the kneeling man.

"Hey," he spat some more. He felt like shit, he tasted like shit, he smelled like shit. He rubbed his wrists which felt like they had been grinded against something.

"I'm glad you're awake," Kaidman said, holding his head with his hand. The pain seemed to be greater than usual, not just a bruise, but perhaps even his bones were broken. It hurt even just to wear his armor now, but the river wasn't far now, they could stop there.

"Are you going to be able to walk? I'm not sure I can carry you anymore, I had quite the fight with your captors," the man told Mox.

Captors. Mox looked past the man, he had been captured. Now he remembered. He squinted at the canyon walls, there were bandits. Well, he had been rescued, so it did not matter. At the same time, he realized that he could not possibly trust the man yet.

"Yeah. I can walk, where are we?"

"We're at the Bane Canyon, that leads North and West when it splits, one passage leading to Solaria, the other going around

Protectorate boarders like a buffer zone," Kaidman answered. Finally, he stood, the broken armor on his side didgging into the skin, making it difficult even to do that.

"There's a river not too far from the entrance, you can see it from here," he explained to Mox. "Let's get some water there, and we'll figure out what we'll do about all this."

Mox had never heard of this stream before, it was pretty far out from the city perhaps. He made sure to make a mental note of this location if he was ever stranded. He would have to figure out how far from Protectorate City he was to begin with.

Water, it was reasonable. He was unarmed, perhaps he was lucky to be alive thus far.

"Mox, and you are?" Mox began walking toward the entrance ahead of the other man.

"My name is Kaidman," the man replied. "C'mon now, I know a place a little upstream where we can get out of the heat."

With that, he began walking into the canyon.

"Where are you from?"

Mox moved with a sort of limp, trying to shift weight from one leg to the other and back, "The City."

"You have a long way to go, my friend."

-

On the 92nd day of Jeytelh's Ride, the sun rose just over the horizon. It seemed a bit frigid outside, but nevertheless, Kaidman and Mox proceeded along the desert's vast expanses.

"My friend shouldn't be too far out from here. She's very touchy about people who come into her dwelling though, you may have to wait outside while I speak to her," Kaidman told his new-found companion. "She's what some may call a witch doctor."

Although the distance was relatively short from the canyon they were at to the city, it was long enough not to be able to survive without water. To follow a survivable route took some time.

Kaidman only wore a tan shirt with dirtied pants, with bandages under his shirt on his wound. He carried his longsword still, as injured as he was, though it was sheathed on his belt.

"We're lucky we've made it this far without any... interference."

90th Day

Solaria

Taro cursed himself when he realized he was dazing. It had only been for a moment, but he had still dazed. As part of his training, Vander would strike him sometimes if he dazed too long. Not all the time, but sometimes, and it would be light. It was to teach him to stay aware of his surroundings. "If you miss something, anything, you could end up dead". Vander wanted to teach Taro everything his father had taught him. He was not cruel, and rarely anything he did left a bruise, but Vander could be very strict.

that, and Taro made use of the training. Which is why when a pickpocket tried to pick his pocket, he grabbed the man's hand and pressed down on a pressure point Vander taught him to induce pain in the man, before quickly walking away from the pickpocket. Taro had to admit that something that defined him was being left in that desert. There was only one man who he truly trusted, and that was Vander. He didn't know who was responsible for leaving him in that desert with nothing but a pendent. For all he knew, any man or woman he came across was responsible. The only one he knew wasn't responsible was Vander.

He continued to make his way back to the ship with the supplies.

---

Vander checked the money and then the cargo. They were going to a Sanoren Trading Post in a few days, and this trading post was favorable to the Solarians. It was four small crates, listed as "Nothing Special". That is all the logs ever said though, excluding the rare time someone admited it was "Special".

The Sanorans were a race that seemed to never need water. In fact, very little is actually known about the Sanorans. They run a series of trading posts throughout the desert. They seemed reptilian in nature, but kept themselves constantly covered with cloth so it wasn't very clear.

He continued to map their route. It took them south, near the border to Protectorate City. The trip would take a little over two weeks most likely, as they would visit several other trading posts after the one they were hired to make this delivery too. Someone would be waiting to pick up the package. Once they finished this long trip, Vander wanted to give Taro some more time in the city. They would only be here for two, three days, maybe four. They might pick up a few passengers as well, if they were headed in that direction. Though Vander would make note to avoid the Varentis Ravines, a stretch of mountains and ravines that were known to have slavers and cuttthroats. There were some people there as well who used the slaves to mine materials from the ravines. He suspected two things as to why they are still there. One was that they were too big and not a big enough threat to Solaria for anyone to decide to crush them. The other was that the materials mined there were sold to Solaria, and that it was more profitable to let it keep running, while not actually endorsing it.

As Taro returned, Vander checked the supplies. "Good find, though a bit late. What took so long?"

"A pickpocket tried to steal our money, and there was a crowd of kids on one of the passageways that was so thick I had to find a way around. Oh, and here is the change".

"Good job. I am going to look for some more clients to make some extra money. Get the cargo loaded, and then get dinner started. Think you can handle that?"

Vander was worried he might be being a bit hard on Taro, but he wanted Taro to be prepared for the real world. It had already treated him harshly once, and Vander also knew how cruel the world could be sometimes. He counted the money, and smiled. Taro had only taken 1 percent of the change. Vander knew the prices, but he was impressed. He was sure it was a sign Taro could improve his bartering skill.

He turned his attention to the clients now.

---

92nd Day

Solaria

Vander was impressed by his own work. While they still had room for any last minute passengers, they had plenty of Cargo. He smiled as the morning light emerged from the horizon. He had already gotten dressed, to deal with any complications, but he believed they might just leave today. He would go out, see if anyone wanted passage south for some reason or another. Maybe they had some business near one of the bordering settlements by Protectorate City lands or something. Either way, it was a good morning. He made his way around the ship and checked all the cargo, making sure his two workers were keeping guard, before checking on his and Taro's room.

Taro was still in his bed, undressed and unawakened. He thought about waking him, but decided against it. Today, you can sleep in, while I arrange some last minute things. However, Vander did decide to play a little game with Taro, and did something before he left, leaving the door open.

People every day always wanted cargo moved and often people wanted transportation. It had been a slow day transportation wise, but cargo wise it was rich. However, the more they took, the more money they made. And more money meant, well, it made things easier. So he went to look, before they would take off later that day.

Two sundowns. The sun had been dragged below the horizon twice since they had arrived in the Protectorate City. There had as yet been absolutely no leads.

The job that Eian had accepted was supposed to be a simple one. A delivery of sorts. What the delivery was, he didn’t know, and hadn’t planned to pry. It was merely a bundle of letters, mostly fairly new. The only dangerous part was to have been a trek through the desert, namely in those parts where he had expected there to be bandits. There had, fortunately, been no bandits.

What awaited them in the city, though, was much more troublesome. From what little information he had gathered, there had been a bandit attack of some sort. People may or may not have died. The only definite was that things were getting chaotic.

Even that information, though, was hard to come by. Eian had found loose tongues in the bars and even information brokers, but most turned away a suspicious outsider like him. People were wary of his very presence. It was understandable that they would react as such, but it still. It didn’t help Eian in the slightest.

Then there was the matter of his target. Mox Ierba. A simple blacksmith, or that’s what Eian had been told.

But now, surveying the blackened, smoky wreckage that used to be a blacksmith’s workshop, Eian wasn’t so sure. It was obvious that something had befallen the man, but what that was, and where he might be, was well sealed behind closed lips.

”Any luck yet?” asked a voice behind him.

Eian glanced back at Shari and slightly shook his head. ”None. Have you found any of the Cron Suil in the marketplace?”

”Seems like they left at the first signs of trouble. No one could tell me where they were headed.”

”And the Balu Chital?” Eian asked. There was usually at least one in a city at any time. They did need jobs, and the cities were naturally the easiest places to get them. In this case, it would hopefully be one who dealt in information and had a good network, neither of which Eian had. Information and the gaining thereof was not Eian’s strong suit, unless it involved stealing it outright, preferably in physical form.

”I’d have told you that first if one was here.”

Grimacing, Eian turned back to what had once been the forge. It would be best, now, to return the letters to the one who had given them the mission and tell them that their man was probably dead. A fruitless journey, all the way from Solaria… Their feathered companion would most assuredly be less than content with that bit of news. He had already seemed uncomfortable with the atmosphere of this whole town, and the palpable anxiety that hung over it.

”Rysdin went off somewhere earlier. He’ll be back soon, so we wait here. He should know the place. If we are to leave, we do so at sundown today.”

92nd Day

Drakyvaria

Primarch’s Palace

“Rielc, begin.”

Consider this our attempt to nullify any previous grievances between our two cities. It is an attempt to foster more trading and build more cordial relations between our two cities. It is our wish that both of our cities may prosper atop these sands. Which is why I ask that you allow myself…

The old advisor nearly fell out of his seat as he heard the Primarch’s words.

“Lord Primarch! You cannot possibly be considering this. When did you conceive this notion?” The advisor stared at his lord in complete shock.

“I…had some time to think. It’s one of the few things Primarchs have never done, seeing as how we’re always too busy fighting off an enemy outside or within.”

“But Lord Primarch…it is all for the good of Drakyvaria,” the advisor stated in a pleading tone.

“Yes, a thinking Primarch is for the good of Drakyvaria, not one that rushes blindly forward.”

At that, the advisor acknowledged the Primarch with a nod. Perhaps Aug’Feyleth was ruling longer than the others because he had a brain.

“Do tell, Lord Primarch. You will be spurning Duatos’s...”

At the mention of Duatos, the Primarch shook his head. “The Ka’etruscans…”

The halls were devoid of servants.

He chose to say no more, he was aware that there might be a spy in his midst, concealed behind several drapes in the hall. There always was.

The Primarch merely shook his head.

“I would very much prefer a bit of Khalthi syrup, Rielc.”

The advisor stared at his Primarch.

Aug’Feyleth shifted his eyebrows. The advisor understood.

“Right, yes. I will have the servants upon that task quickly,” and Rielc left immediately, leaving the transcript scroll unfinished upon the Primarch’s desk.

As Rielc left, so too did the spy slip away, the Primarch narrowed his eyes.

---

93rd Day

House Ka’etruscan

“And he said nothing more?”

“Nothing more, my liege…”

Duatos Ka’etruscan shifted his sharp gaze away from his underling as he repetitively rotated two metal spheres in the palm of his hand. It was a therapy used to improve manual dexterity and strength. His claws were long and needed a bit of a trim.

He was perhaps in his eighties for a Drak, according to the timekeepers. He bore a scar that carved through his right eye and ran down the right side of his face, ending just below his mouth. The skin there was rougher than most other places, as new and harder scales had formed on the edges of the wound. His skin was a light brown. His crest was bony and covered in rough scales. Four fangs protruded from his lower jaw, two on each side of his face, evenly spaced apart.

He was in his dark grey robes, tied at the waist by a black sash. He had thick, scaly appendages that were analogous to human hair, running from the back of his crest and ending just below his broad shoulders.

Duatos’s quarter was secluded near the rear of the Ka’etruscan manor. It was the patriarch’s place of work and contemplation.

The spy kept his head down as he kneeled on one knee. The Ka’etruscan patriarch paced around slowly, he looked to his palm and felt like crushing the orbs, but that would yield nothing useful for him. He exhaled from his nostrils and took a seat behind his desk, placing the spheres back within the box they came from.

He opened one of the volumes that had been piled upon his desk, “Any word from Melio?”

“Not yet my lord.”

“Dismissed.”

The minion replied by stooping first and then slinking away into the dark recesses of the hall, leaving the lord to his thoughts.

He leafed through the pages of this volume with interest. It was an old work, composed perhaps ages ago by Drakyvarian elders long passed.

The tome was filled with ancient runic markings, not seen by any of the common folk, and very rarely in the manors of the noble houses. Tomes such as these were left among the timekeepers who kept and transcribed the records for future generations.

However, the patriarch managed to comb through the old family records. And he was particularly consumed by this new work. Knowledge was power for him. It spoke of old prophecies, rituals, and even magic. To the average person, such a volume had no value or importance other than perhaps entertainment.

Magic was believed by many to be a long lost art. He knew otherwise.

He looked to his hand, which by now began to glow in a dark blue aura. The waves of light emanated from his hand which he chose as the fount for the power.

But just as he was beginning to draw on a larger fraction of his potential, a quick wit voice danced across the chamber from him.

His energy abruptly faded as he looked up to see a familiar face, a Drakyvarian in dark grey, scaly skin. He had an eye patch across one of his eyes, strapped to one of the two short horns protruding from his crest, arching backward.

“Melio! Do you not knock?”

“Apologies, lord,” the younger Drak smiled slyly, his forked tongue hanging loosely, as he bowed before his lord.

“Where have you been?”

“I found one.”

“One? When?”

“Some time ago.”

The patriarch gazed at him through narrow eyes, “Where is he now?”

“Fulfilling the task,” Melio replied curtly.

Duatos smiled.

---

Protectorate City

It had been three days since the original attack, and repairs were pretty slow.

Rather than waste the efforts of the Guard to hunt down the attackers, the council decided to follow a rather original idea. And it went as followed.



Since this was the first time bandits had ever attacked the city directly, this would be the first time the City would call upon willing travelers and adventurers to hunt down bandits in this manner. The Council members that devised this idea, Cidny and Homar, were in a word, clever. They knew greed was a powerful motivator especially in Protectorate City. The idea would only work, however, if greed overpowered fear. Because if there was one thing everyone knew, the perpetrators were well-armed.

Would it have been worth it to hunt down some bandits?

Three hundred bezants was a good enough amount to get fat on. They were hoping that those who read the postings, which were immediately distributed among the people and pasted onto the walls, would focus on the rewards rather than the other less appealing portions.

Normally, the Council would have left this matter in the hands of the rangers.

However, two more rangers had been found dead in the outskirts of Protectorate City. Each decapitated, their bodies were barely recognizable with the sand covering them.

A wandering merchant caravan stumbled upon the pair of bodies, which were mutilated, whether it was before or after they were killed remained to be seen.

They were only recognized by the vagrant style of dress, their possession of a large assortment of weapons from pistols to sabers to axes, and personal badges that were inspired by the one that adorned Jolo Grossman’s hat.

It was interesting to note that the bandits were bold enough to attack the Rangers, who were possibly the best fighters in the City. They may have lacked formal training, but their experience made up for that. Seros and Jolo, the founders of the group, would often take new recruits and throw them into the middle of a group of bandits. If they lived, then they had some talent. If they didn't, well, it was pretty obvious they weren't going to be rangers. Beyond that, these people had no families, and were completely and utterly devoted to the cause of justice, a lofty motivation. They fought as though they were the last man standing, and if they were going down, they would take as many of their foes down with them.

It was all the more surprising when no other bodies were found beside the two dead lawmen.

The bodies were buried on orders of the Council. Secretly, the Council was actually pleased that the bandits were targeting the wandering lawmen. Their little conflict would keep them busy while they managed their own business without interference from Jolo and his people.

As to the location of the head, he was nowhere to be found, gone off in a wild goose chase as rumor had it.

Perhaps he was already dead. Killed by who?

The Council did not care.

They had to prepare for the horde of travelers arriving at the Dome. The man's fate was his own.