"Wake up, boy. Time won't wait for us forever!"

Slen blinked groggily. Then he shot in an instant and stared at the man beside his bed, wide eyed.

"How in hell's name did you find me here!" shouted Slen.

Daevr grinned. "I have my sources. And don't scream, the sun has just risen and most people are still in bed. They won't take you too kindly if you wake them."

The boy groaned and hefted himself out of the warm covers. "Then may I enquire what you are doing out of bed? In the ungodly hours of dawn…" He rubbed his aching head. "You'll go to hell for this if you do it to every person you meet."

Daevr shrugged. "Wake up, boy. The land we're in is already hell. We're the ones trying to change it. Dress up quick, I'll be waiting for you downstairs." With those added words, the man stepped out of the door and soon Slen could hear the wooden steps creaking under Daevr's weight.

Sighing loudly, the boy clasped on a frayed cloak he had found a few years past and stuffed his knife into his boot. With a large yawn, he stumbled downstairs as well.

Daevr was already waiting outside of the inn, looking at the morning sun. His sword was belted to his waist, and his traveling cloak was now replaced with one that was entirely black. Miraculously, he had two already saddled horses with him.

"Where did ya get these?" Slen said, glancing at the two animals. They looked back at him with impassive liquid eyes. "From one of your men?"

"Correct. Now, I want you to rethink your decision carefully. Are you sure that you want to leave Furnost? You have to know that you have other choices that you can pick from." Daevr looked into the boy's eyes intently. "Are you completely sure about your decision?"

A flash of memories entered Slen's mind. An angry and frustrated face, full of resentment. A wagon wheel, marking the place of a grave.

"Hell yes I'm sure!" crowed the boy happily. "You could drag me along with a rope tied to your horse, you could cut me into little morsels and take me with you, but either way I'm getting out of here!"

Satisfied, Daevr smiled and mounted his horse. "So it is decided then. Shall we ride?"

Slen stood in place, expression strange. He was looking at the horse intently.

The man looked back quizzically. "Is there something wrong?"

Slen didn't turn to meet his gaze. "Hold on a moment. It's been a while since I rode these thrice damned animals." Cautiously, he approached the horse from behind…

Only to yelp as he dodged the hoof that was aimed at his stomach. Daevr smiled in realization.

"Ah, so this is your first time. Am I right?" The man looked at the boy thoughtfully. "I apologize. I did not think this through enough. Would you like to—"

"Shut up already." Muttered Slen. Mimicking Daevr's movements, he climbed onto the horse with slight difficulty and awkwardness, and grasped the reins. "I told you that I'm fine."

The man raised an eyebrow. He's a fast learner.

"Fine then. But be careful. It will be your own fault if you break an arm because of your recklessness." Daevr casually tightened the straps on his saddle. "Oh, and you know? I am mighty impressed at how you actually missed being kicked. Is there any chance that you learned it during your previous experiences?"

Slen growled. Daevr laughed lightly and urged his horse into a small gallop. Following his movements, the boy did the same as well.

The morning air was fresh and crisp, unlike the smell of the dirty alleys that Slen lurked in most often. The sun shone its gentle light on the pair, bathing them in gold. It was not something that the boy had ever experienced before.

"We are nearing the gates of Furnost." Called Daevr, as he turned around. "Last chance to change your thoughts."

Slen gave a small grunt. "How many times have I told you? Three? I am going with you and that is final. Damn this city into hell for all I care. Hell, I don't even care where you're taking me."

Daevr nodded and turned back. The steady clip-clop of hooves striking the cobblestones was oddly relaxing. Slen couldn't remember the last time he had felt like this. All his life had been an endless cycle of hunger, stealing and deceiving.

No. That was a lie. He did remember the last time he had felt so relaxed and happy. Gritting his teeth, the boy forced the thoughts out of his mind. It was strange how joyful thoughts like those could make him angry like that.

All was calm as they exited the massive gates. The guards watched them pass sleepily, too tired to stop them or even ask a few questions. It was as if they were the only beings awake in the entirety of Alagaesia.

Their riding was uneventful. Birds flew above and a few wild animals lurked in the grass, but almost no human was seen. Clearly at ease, Daevr began to talk with Slen. First about small things, but then they started to talk about the ancient legends and stories that every person had heard when they were children. The Dragon War was fully explained in detail by Daevr, and Slen marveled at how much he knew about the battles. It was as if he had been through most of the war himself.

Not unlikely, thought Slen as he listened to another one of Daevr's tales. The man had a wide span of knowledge, knowing about things that the boy didn't even know existed. But there were always some things that the man seemed reluctant to talk about. The infamous Shadow Rider, for one. Eragon Shadeslayer was also a topic that he rarely touched.

It wasn't before long that Slen realized that Daevr was extremely bad at lying. The man was sharp and clever, but he lacked the realistic twist to add into his words to make his lies seem real.

The horses they rode on seemed to be reasonably fast, being of a good breed. The fields around Furnost were now already gone in the distance, and the city walls weren't visible at all. Marveling at their speed, Slen turned around and faced his companion.

"Daevr? I trusted you enough to bring me this far, but I think it would be a good time to tell me where you are taking me. Or is it supposed to be a surprise?" Slen smirked at the man beside him.

"We're going to Seteliel, the capital of the Argenon Empire. We already have five people stationed there, but in that city there is always the need for more men." Daevr replied. "It is a flourishing city, and it is much more important than Furnost will ever be."

"Any city is more important than that dark, dank, hellish and cursed place. Hmm, the Argenon Empire? Mind telling me who these Argenon's are?"

"To do so, I will have to touch on some ancient history. You do remember that story I told you about King Palancar and his war with the elves?"

Slen nodded his head. It wasn't a very interesting tale, but he remembered it.

"The Argenon nobles are direct descendants of that king, the first human ruler in Alagaesia." Said Daevr with a smile. "They are all of that sacred bloodline, and they pride themselves on it."

"Is that so? Then what shall I be doing there?" asked the boy.

"Collecting rumors and information. But the most important thing that you have to do is find out the plans of the Argenons, the royal family. It is a vital point in what we do." Answered Daevr.

"And pray tell, what does this organization of yours do? We've been together for so long and you still haven't told me. Don't you think that's a bit strange? Or is the truth only for ranks above me? Or is it that you don't do anything at all, and just go around looking important?"

Ignoring the added remark, Daevr turned to him, astonished. "You still don't know what we do?"

The boy sighed, exasperated. "You never did tell me." Muttered Slen.

"My apologies. Then, let me put it this way then… ah, never mind me. I think it would be sufficient if I said that we call ourselves the Zharenti."

Slen blanched. "The Zharenti!"

The Zharenti were a legendary brotherhood that had men spread all over Alagaesia. The tales said that they numbered over a thousand men, and almost everything was in the reign of their abilities. They could overturn Alagaesia if they wished to. It was rumored they worked secretly for the Argenon Empire.

Though Slen doubted that half of the myths were true, the Zharenti was clearly a force to be reckoned with. And if Daevr was in that organization…

"Ah, Daevr. So you are part of the Zharenti?." Slen scratched his head, trying to veil his awe. "I didn't know that you belonged to such a group."

"Oh, I'm not just part of the Zharenti. I lead it." The man cracked a grin and tugged slightly on the reins. "So does that answer your question?"

Slen stared wide eyed at the man before him. He was the head of one of the largest organizations in the land and he was traveling with a mere thief? Daevr didn't look like he was lying. But could he be testing him somehow?

"So what does the Zharenti actually do?" asked Slen cautiously.

"Hm. Well, to put it simply…" Daevr turned his gaze towards the boy beside him. "The land is in flames. Wars and battles are as numerous as the lives they take. It is because you lived in Furnost that you don't know the true terror of war and what it can do to a man."

Slen opened his mouth, but decided against talking and shut it again.

"Wouldn't it be better if someone could unify all these battling countries together? Lives would be saved by the millions, and people would finally live peaceful lives. It is what we strive for."

The boy's jaw dropped. "So you mean that you are going to defeat all these countries with your men and create one of your own? That's—"

"Absurd." Finished Daevr. "I do not seek power, nor do I wish to be king. I simply help the countries that have potential, and aid them in difficulties. All for the greater good."

Slen nodded in realization. "So that's why some people say that you are the servants of the Argenon Empire!"

The man looked annoyed. "A common misconception. We are not part of the Empire in any way. We simply aid it with things that are… out of their reach."

Out of their reach. What a laugh.

The Zharenti assassinated. They stole secrets and killed people who stood in their way. They burned down entire houses and murdered nobles of royal blood. And yet, because they were not actually part of the Argenon Empire, there was nothing any country could do about it. Things made sense to Slen now.

However, the one thing that the boy couldn't make sense of was how a person like Daevr became one of the most feared and deadly men in Alagaesia. What hid beneath that calm, smiling face?

"You seem to be troubled. Is there something wrong?" asked Daevr, concerned.

Was this man really as bad as lying as he believed? Or was the man so fanatical in his own righteous beliefs that his thinking was twisted beyond compare?

"Slen? You've been looking dazed for quite a while. Shall we make a short stop and rest for a while?" The man's voice leaked genuine worry.

Slen shook his head and continued to ride, thinking over what he had learned. The boy was only certain about one thing when it came to Daevr.

He was a very dangerous man. But sure as damn, Slen wasn't going to show Daevr that he was afraid of him.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Nightfall soon came and rain began to fall lightly, forcing them to camp for the night. Slen was aching all over his body do to his riding, and he wanted nothing but sleep. Daevr fared much better than he did, though the man looked tired as well.

"We have covered more ground than I expected. The horses that my men gave me were extraordinary. I believe that we should be seeing Rventicas by tomorrow." Said Daevr, pleased. "If we keep on this pace, we will be in Seteliel in less than a week."

"Rventicas?" asked Slen as he lay down against a tree.

"Formerly called Uru'baen. It is in ruins, but it is the home to the nobles of Cerfellion; most commonly known by people as the so called, "Last Followers of the Dragon King".

"So these people of Cerfellion still think they work for King Galby?" Slen laughed. "Bunch of fools."

Daevr shrugged. "They choose to believe that. But they are not the most dangerous of the people who once followed Galbatorix. The Black Hand, for example, is still known for its brutality and efficiency when killing. Unfortunately, they do not stand by the side of any country and its men are hard to find. Unlike some people who think too highly of themselves."

Slen frowned. "What are you talking abou—"

In a flash, Daevr drew his sword, whirled around and beheaded a man behind him. Blood splattered onto the grass.

"Mercenaries." Muttered Daevr, examining the man's clothes. "We have to ride."

He needn't have said that. Slen had already scrambled onto his horse, waiting for Daevr to do the same. The man didn't remark on this and mounted his horse as well, riding swiftly behind Slen.

"I am curious as to who the one behind this attempt on my life is." Muttered Daevr, bending low on his horse.

"It doesn't damn matter! Almost every person that isn't an Argenon wants your head!" Urging his horse to run faster, Slen turned around only to see numerous torches in the distance behind them. They were gaining rapidly.

"This will be more troublesome than I thought." Daevr unsheathed his sword once again and turned his horse around to face the pursuers. "Keep on riding. I will follow your trail as soon as I can."

"I can't just leave you here!" shouted Slen. "Even thieves have—"

"I appreciate your concern, but this is not a place for you." Daevr spurred his horse towards the company of men. "I will try to lead them off. But do try to be careful."

"I—"

"It is your first order. Obey it." With those words, Daevr leapt off his horse and disappeared into the darkness.

Gritting his teeth, Slen wrenched the horse around and galloped forward, distance between Daevr growing steadily. He could now only barely hear the shouts and curses of the mercenaries.

But there was still something wrong. The boy could feel it in the air.

A hand from behind grabbed him off his horse, muffling his scream of surprise. The only thing he could smell was the stench of sweat and beer. He could barely breathe.

"Ah, now what do we have here? A little rat, trying to escape. Looks like the folks were right about putting me here after all." The mercenary released his hand on Slen's mouth and put it around the boy's throat. "Looks like I'll be making some gold tonight." He whispered into Slen's ear.

The boy coughed and breathed in, filling his lungs with air. "Gold?" he spluttered.

"Why, yes. If we kill an enemy seeking to escape, one crown is the reward. If we capture him alive…" the man turned Slen around to face him, his smile revealing his rotten and crooked teeth. "Three crowns. It's a fair deal. But I simply don't have that kind of luck usually. But tonight is special."

Slen raised an eyebrow. "Three crowns, eh? What if I told you that I had more than thirty crowns on myself right now?"

The man's eyes bulged. "Thir-thirty crowns?" he muttered, counting on his fingers.

"Aye, thirty crowns. Why don't we make a deal? I'll give you twenty of my coins, and you let me go. It is definitely beneficial for you." The boy smiled. "More than three times what you're gonna get."

The mercenary snarled. "What do you think I am, a fool? Why take twenty when I can take all thirty now? Also the added three crowns that my captain will give me!"

"So you plan to tie me up and lead me to your comrades." Slen shook his head and sighed. "Yes, you are most definitely a fool. If you did so, I would tell everything to your captain, and not even the gods would know what would happen to your corpse. I know that the coin on killed men are always distributed evenly in mercenary guilds, and if you take all of my gold by yourself…"

The man paled, then sneered at the boy. "Dead men don't talk. I'll just slit your throat here and be done with it. Then I'll help myself."

"That would even be more foolish." Slen sighed, shaking his head. "You are not thinking clearly enough. What would your fellows do with you when they find that you have an unnatural abundance of gold in your small pockets? What would your captain do? Hmm?"

The mercenary tugged on his stringy hair and swore. Grinning, Slen continued.

"And those, my friend, are the results of killing me. Now, let me propose something that will be good for the both of us."

Warily, the man unclenched his fingers. Resisting the urge to rub his throat, Slen took out the knife from his boot.

"Let us do it this way. Since you will be punished if they find out that I've bribed you and let me go, we will have to make them believe that you failed to catch me because I was simply too good at swordsmanship. At that point, your captain will only have himself to blame, since he did not place more men here."

The man nodded slowly. "So?"

"I will wound you slightly in numerous areas, and then knock you out. When you wake up, you will find twenty crowns in your wallet. How does that sound? You would never be suspected, since you here almost died in a duel with me."

Frowning, the man looked at Slen's dagger. "How can I trust you? You could slit my throat."

"I swear that I won't on my father's grave." Said the boy solemnly. The mercenary whistled.

"What a vow. Alright, I trust you. But don't make the gashes too deep." Lying down, the man closed his eyes.

"Ready?" asked Slen.

"Aye boy, I'm ready."

"Good. Greet my father for me." Slen twirled the dagger around his finger and stabbed the man in the heart.

"Idiot. I don't even know who my father is, and I could care less if his grave was struck by lightning." Wiping his knife on the damp grass, the boy stood up and turned his gaze towards the distance.

Strange. The torches have divided, and one part of the company is heading…

"Damn!" the boy swore. His horse was gone, and half of the mercenaries were after him. It seemed as if Daevr wasn't successful in his attempt.

Muttering to himself, he clutched his head as he began to think of a way to escape them. It was practically impossible, but—

Slen looked at the corpse beside him, and he stared at it.

And stared.

And he grinned grimly.

It was a very risky gamble, and heaven knows what would happen if the plan failed; however, it was the only way.

Quickly removing his clothing, he stripped down the dead body as well. The smell of the blood sickened him, but he held the bile down in his throat. He hastily donned the ragged clothes of the mercenary, and clothed the corpse in his.

The yells of pursuit were getting closer. Slen could feel his palms getting damp.

Taking out his knife once again, he sliced up the corpse's face, making it nigh impossible to recognize. He rubbed the blood over his features as well.

The shouts and the clanging of swords were very close. A bowshot away at the most. The boy's arms were shaking like hell.

One last thing to do.

Slen gritted his teeth, and rammed his head into the nearest tree.

Unconsciousness came almost immediately, like a black fog at the edge of his vision. Slowly, he slipped, and tumbled into darkness.

His last thought was about the man who brought him out of the filth of Furnost.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sorry about the slow pace. We're going to meet some major CP characters in a few chaps though, so don't be disappointed.

And one of them is extremely famous. She is one of the most-picked heroines in fanfictions that are about the era after Eragon becomes king/dies/ leaves Alagaesia.

Much foreshadowing on her has been done by CP himself.

Who is she? Anyway, continue reading to find out!

Reviews! I have an eternal thirst for them… please, click that small button. 