CHAPTER 1

For four centuries, the city Cenaria had always been the capital of Midycru. In the east was Cuera, home to the se'caurai, a race of brilliant swordsmen. In the south, was large mountain that had never been explored. And in the north was Khalidor, home to the evil Godkings who have ruled for over seven centuries. The current Godking was Garoth Ursuul, a powerful Vurdmeister and aethling. It was widely known that his greatest ambition was to rule all of Midycru. However, his armies have failed to invade Cenaria. The pass, Screaming Winds, has always been garrisoned with a thousand Cenarian soldiers, all veterans. No matter what the Godking sends towards Cenaria, Screaming Winds have always repelled the attacks. The duke who was in charge of the garrison was Regnus Gyre. Apart from the King's son and daughter, the duke was the next in line for the throne of Cenaria. The current king, David Gunder was a reasonable and had some popularity with the people, however when it came to war, he was useless.

Regnus was still staring from the castle that stood in the middle of the pass. Half of his men were asleep while the other half was on guard duty. The weapons and armour was packed right in front of their barracks. Should Screaming Winds come under attack, the whole garrison would be ready for it within a minute. As he turned back from the balcony and returned to his bedchamber, a knock rapped on the door. Regnus slowly drew his sword. He was a powerful, wide man, almost six feet tall and his simple robe incredibly managed to define his muscles. His sword was simple as well, a cutlass except that the hilt was thinner allowing for a tighter grip.

"Who's there?" he demanded. His voice was always full of authority, even when he was off duty. The person on the other side of the door replied.

"Your Excellency, I carry an important message!" the notes of urgency were clearly heard. The duke sheathed his sword and opened the door. Before him stood a small man, his white skin shining with sweat and his sort cropped hair was messy.

"Ah, Sergeant Gamble, what message do you bring?" Regnus asked.

"Sir, our spies have heard that the Sa'kage is going to kill your advisor." Regnus look quite shocked, he hated the Sa'kage and if he was in power, he would have had them wiped out years ago. His personal advisor, Frial Bane was a low-class noble who had served with the utmost loyalty, but was never too bright. Why the hell would the Sa'kage want him? Regnus pulled him self from his mind.

"Do you know why they want him?" The sergeant kept his voice in tone.

"Yes sir! According to the spies, Frial Bane had asked for his nobility to be recognised. The Sa'kage had helped him by using their own people to spread inspiring stories of Frial in battle and they even bribed some of our men. In return, Frial agreed to the demand that the Sa'kage receive sixty five percent of the wealth that Frial would be granted." He finished. Regnus looked bemused. His face was contorted with anger.

"He asked for the help of scum just to be popular among the people?" Sergeant Gamble also looked very ashamed. The duke calmed himself.

"Do you also know how they are going to kill him?"

"Yes your Excellency! We have rumours that the Sa'kage has recently hired a new wetboy. We believe he will be the one to take out Frial Bane." Gamble finished.

"Very well sergeant! I want you find Frial as quickly as you can and have him brought to me. And get your spies to find out more about this 'new' wetboy!"

"Yes sir!" With that the sergeant turned and walked down the stairs.

A pock marked man was walking around the streets. He was only five foot seven inches and his hair was forced in a ponytail shape with a braid. Durzo had been following him around the industrial part of town. He was getting furious but remained hidden in the shadow that the slanted rooftops provided. Another difference between assassins and wetboys were that wetboys possessed a special kind of magic known as the Talent. The Talent varied for each individual. It could give them super-human strength or it could cloak their user with shadows, disfiguring the human shape and therefore making the user less known to people. The Talent could even be used to create illusions like the person is someone else. Of course, if anything came into contact with the illusion that was heavier than rain, the illusion would shatter.

Of course, some wetboys' Talents could do multiple things when they are focused. Durzo Blint had spent seven years refining his Talent. He could do all of these things with ease. With that thought in mind, Durzo leapt off the roof and landed on another house that was 5 metres away. Any other person who attempted that would probably have committed suicide. When he crouched back into position, using the Talent to disfigure his human shape in shadows, the pock marked man began talking with another merchant, again.

"Ah Mr. Bane! It is good to see you. Is there anything I can interest you with?" the small merchant said. His entire body was covered in a dirty stinking robe that masked his face. The pock marked man glanced around the shop and turned his head back to the dealer.

"I am here to see your collection of poisons," Frial replied. The merchant's happy face dropped. As he spoke, his hands were slightly twitching.

"Uh, uh I am afraid I- I don't know what you are taking abou-" Frial Bane grabbed by the collar with such speed that surprised even Durzo.

"I want your poison so I can kill Regnus Gyre! If you do not supply me with it, you will die!" And with that he pulled out his scabbard and pinned it against the merchant. Durzo just stayed where he was. It was not very surprising to hear that one of the duke's advisors was plotting against him. Corruption, betrayal, Cenaria had it all for over fifty years. He began wondering if he should strike now and save the merchant or wait till later. Durzo made up his mind.

The merchant was beginning to sweat heavily with fear. His voice had become croaky. What a pathetic sight, Durzo thought.

"Please Mr. Bane! I shall give you poison, but it will cost you." The merchant replied. Frial took out a small bag from his pouch.

"Here is 20 crowns!" Frial answered. He dropped it on the floor. "Pick it up and get me the damn poison!" The merchant hastily picked up the spilled contents and went over to his study desk where he withdrew a small tube. The tube was filled with a dark-green liquid. Durzo smiled. Meridian was a very deadly poison and took months to study. Clearly the merchant was a professional in herb medicine. He passed it to Frial, bowed and walked to upstairs to his private quarters. Mr. Bane slipped the tube into his pouch, turned… and felt a strange sensation in his chest. He looked down at dagger that had pierced his heart. He looked up again and saw the shadow of a man who had thrown it. He was just standing on the opposite building, at least 20 metres away. The accuracy of the throw made Frial realise that he had just been assassinated. He fell to his knees and saw the man approach him. He closed his eyes. Durzo quickly analysed the corpse. It was a damn fine throw he thought. He pulled the dagger out and sheathed it back into his belt. He opened the deader's pouch and took the tube. At least he didn't have to make his own poison now. He turned and used his Talent to blend back into the shadows.