Chapter Six

A cool, calming breeze blew through the spires and streets of Silvermoon. The planted trees in the gardens rustled with delight, as wind chimes sang a chorus of harmony. It was early morning, before the dawn broke, and Thire was sitting on a balcony looking out at the Royal Exchange district. In his hands, a small glass of fine pinot noir that he sipped at long intervals in order to enjoy its exquisite taste and luxurious texture. Gazing at the beauty before him, Thire thought of two things. One, if HF-11 was really guilty of his crimes or not, and Two, if he should have put as much trust in Silas as he did before. Thire had a growing animosity towards the Warden, and felt that Silas was holding him back in some sort. He would have to deal with these thoughts later, however, as he had a job to do, and for Thire, duty always came first. He went down a floor in order to get ready for his day. He opened up a large cabinet, which held an armor rack. The armor was made of pure Adamantite mined from the far reaches of Outland. There was a crimson stripe at the top of the breastplate, near the head, that indicated where Thire worked. Most of his armor consisted of the same shade of crimson, and a gray shade of obsidian. His armor could withstand mostly anything the prisoners attacked him with, unless they had access to the armory, which was highly unlikely. There was no helm, however, as the Warden thought it useless to have a helmet in a prison. The armor also came with a small badge, indicating that this guard was in service. Thire strapped on his armor once again, and sped off to the Prison. He then traveled to the Maroon Floor for his daily questioning of the Man in Cell Five.

"Hello, HF-11" said Thire, opening the cast iron door. Thire walked inside, and looked around. For some reason, the Inmate was not in his cell. "Where is HF-11?" asked Thire to another guard waiting outside.

"He's with the black floor staff. They took him about...hmm...two hours ago maybe?" The guard replied, keeping at his post.

Thire grunted in disappointment. The warden was continuing his torture of HF-11, which meant less answers and more time wasted. Thire kept his patience waiting for the Staff to bring him down. With in a short time, however, he heard the clank of metal boots against iron floor. He peered out the door to see two elves dragging the man, his head covered by a black hood. The two guards took of his bag, and threw him against the cell wall. HF-11 let out a pitiful cry, coughing and hacking in pain.

"You're not going to last much longer, 11...Not at this rate atleast..." said one of elves, clad in pure black armor. He closed the door, leaving Thire and the man alone. HF-11 shuddered in pain, laying there like a lame animal.

"Here...let me help you up, 11..." Thire said, gently helping 11 up to the bed.

"T-t...Thanks..." The man stuttered.

"What did they do to you, 11?"

HF-11 paused, taking in deep breaths of stale air before answering.

"They...they hung me by my skin...until I told them the names of some of the drug runners..."

HF-11's back was pierced in two spots, one near his right shoulder and one near his left shoulder. These marks bled profusely. Fortunately, Thire always carried a medical kit incase of injury, and proceeded to patch up the man.

"Thank you again, Thire... You can't imagine how much help you have been..."

"You're welcome. If you find it odd, I'm probably the only guard here to despises these deplorable conditions."

"Probably. I find that most of the guards don't have much of a conscious or moral compass. You, on the other hand..."

"Heh, just trying to help out. By the way, What is your name exactly?" Thire said, while tending to his wounds.

"Should I ask again?"

"I trust you, I honestly do."

"My name is Haldroun. Haldroun Frostfury."

"You are part of the Frostfury house? I thought they all died during the assault on the sunwell!"

"Heh, I was there when Arthas attacked. I was on the front-lines with the rest of my family. Unfortunately, I survived.."

The Frostfury Clan was one of the most distinguished and honored houses in Quel'Thalas. Their lineage dated all the way back to the sundering, and they specialized in training superb magisters. The Clan was thought to be purged, but no...no, here was living proof of the clan's survival, even if it was only one mage stuck in a dingy prison.

"I'm sorry to hear that. My family made it out alright, though. I only lost my cousin. It must be tremendously painful to have your entire lineage destroyed in front of your eyes."

Haldroun wiped a few tears a few tears from his cheek.

"Yes, yes it is. But there is something about you. I can sense it. You have an aura of mourning about you... but its not directly related to your family is it?"

"No, it isn't. You see, My wife died about two months prior to our meeting, Haldroun."

"What was it from? A disease? Did she pass on?"

"She died while on patrol..."

"I see...Perhaps you need to clear your mind, Thire. Do you have a piece of paper I could use, and a quill as well?"

"I've got a quill, thats about it."

"Good enough, hold out your arm."

Thire held out his arm, and Haldroun scribbled an address in Thalassian.

"Hmm... Why would I want to go there, Haldroun? Its in the middle of murder row."

"You need to clear your mind, Thire. You need answers, and thats where you will find them."

With that, Thire walked out of the cell.

"20 gold buyout for the broadsword you're looking for, Mr. Blackdawn. Bidding starts at 5 gold and moves up in increments of 5." said a shrewd auctioneer.

"I'll take the buyout price then." said Thire, rustling though his coin pouch for the right number of gold.

Thire paid for his broadsword, which was of high quality and able to cut though at least 50 felguards before showing signs of stress. He planned to go hunting with some of his colleges over his work break.

"Thank you sir, come back any time."

Thire nodded and headed for home. He slid the broadsword into a large leather pouch that was tethered to his back armor. About a half a mile from his manor, Thire was sucked into a back alley by an unknown source, another elf by the look of it. The elf held Thire's mouth shut, whilst holding a dagger to his throat. Thire instinctively went for his broadsword, but a voice stopped him from doing so

"Shshshshshshshsh." The voice beckoned Thire to keep quite. The voice sounded awfully familiar too.

"Do I...know you?" Thire asked with a taste of urgency

"I think you do, Blackdawn.." Replied the voice, keeping the dagger tight.

"Warden?"

"Yes, Thire... It is me." said Silas

"What are you doing warden...Why are you holding me captive here in this alley?"

"Because Thire, I need you to do something of the utmost importance for me." The warden slid a neatly wrapped brown package into Thire's satchel. "I need you to deliver this package to the address specified in on the package... Understood?"

"Not...entirely. Why me, sir. You can have any other guard do it..."

"Oh..oh, but I can't, Thire, I can't. You see, you can do this, you will do this because I can trust you. Our little secret, correct? Nobody should know where its going or what's inside. You cannot know what is inside. Understood?"

"Yes sir..."

The warden pushed Thire out of the alley way and quickly ran off to some unknown destination.

"Odd...very odd."

Thire looked at the package. The address was in the Bazaar. Thire took a breath in, remembering what happened in the Bazaar only two months ago.

"Hmm...Mysterious package, Warden...High echelons.." Thire thought to himself, trying to make sense of it all. "Someone needs to inspect this...someone who I can trust." He thought it over, thinking of the names of those close to him. In the end, however, he could think of only one person with the expertise to do what was required...

"Haldroun."

And with that, he sped towards the prison.