Prologue

Ah, Samarkand. Hot, steamy, exotic, cultured…What more could a man such as Reaver ask for? It was a small paradise that was practically ready for his taking. He'd already spent countless nights "exploring" much of one of its largest cities—Aurora—finding many "jewels" and "claiming" them. Sighing at his desk, he rapped his fingers on the bronze metal. He immediately missed his desk in Bloodstone and decided he'd make sure a duplicate was in here by tomorrow. Otherwise, someone would be losing a hand. Out of habit, Reaver withdrew his Dragonstomper .48. He stared into the unique weapon's barrel and examined himself. The last slaves he'd sent to the Shadow Court had done him well. He raised an eyebrow. So it was possible that he, Reaver, could look better.

He chuckled to himself as he turned his cheek to further examine his youthful visage. "What a handsome devil," he purred at his reflection who grinned back at him from the barrel of the Dragonstomper. This was actually how Reaver had been spending most of his days as of late; nothing new had turned up in Samarkand. He was beginning to believe he'd found everything there was to find, not excluding the exotic hussies that were strung throughout the sandy desert. He hummed to himself as he turned and twirled the pistol along his fingers slowly, obviously bored. "M'lord..!" he heard as he let out an exasperated sigh. There was a hesitant knock as Reaver continued viewing himself. At the very least, this bloke knew better than to barge in uninvited. "You may enter…" he said relaxed in his chair. "M'lord, I-I... 'ate to disturb you but there's been recent news!" the man exclaimed as he entered.

"What are you on about, Ta…T…Tom, ah right, Tom."

"My lord, the Queen is coming to Aurora!" Reaver waved his hand holding the Dragonstomper. "Nonsense, she's busy playing Mother to Albion."

"B-but m'lord…!"

"Is that all that you had to say, bursting in my quarters like that?" he asked in his notorious sing-song-y tone. It was evident that he was annoyed by the intrusion, albeit he wasn't doing anything or anyone important at the moment. "Yes, m'lord…" the lesser pirate said, deflated.

"Allez-vous en," he shooed as his finger tickled the trigger. He wouldn't mind a little target practice if the hobbe of a man didn't get on. The pirate quickly made his way to exit, and did even more so as a bullet purposely embedded itself in the stone door, a few centimeters from his hand that was on the knob. Reaver never missed.