Dramatis Personae
Criminal Insurgents
Cordas, Crimelord
Tavros, Henchman
The 'Sergeant', Disguised HenchmanNorris, Exiled Ranger
Shen, Kara-Tur Warrior
Shadow ThievesCerdan Engeven, Guildmaster
Tomar, Lieutenant
Kretia, Lieutenant
Seffron, Lieutenant
Church of TyrGalin Saudere, High Prelate
Selena Shademoor, Priestess
The Hunt Begins
(11:00 AM)
Protector. Hero. Saviour.
Murderer. Criminal. Traitor.
Some of the best and worst labels that could be applied to a person… and every one had been bestowed upon Norris at some point in his lifetime. To collapse so far in a single life… at one time it would have been unthinkable. To have such a colourful past, yet such a bleak future in store for him.
Assuming he even outlived the day, of course. His poisonous wound was now constantly on his mind. The burning in his flesh had spread up his neck and along the back of his skull. Now it was difficult to turn his head without wincing.
He glanced down at the chains binding his wrists to the wall. For a moment, he again started to wonder if he should call the paladin guarding the cell and reveal everything the ranger knew about Cordas.
No, wait, I've already gone over this, he silently chastised himself. Damn it all. I must be getting desperate.
But desperate for what? Survival, of course, but Norris was lucid enough to know that he couldn't just go back to living like an exiled hermit. Not after everything Cordas had done to him.
Maybe that was why he bothered to go on living. It was a period of waiting… waiting for the day and the opportunity to bring his revenge down upon Cordas' head.
So that's what I've been reduced to. Petty vengeance. His lips curled downward as he stared in disgust at the sole shaft of light coming from the barred window in the door. If he was going to get back to Cordas' estate, he'd have to –
"Ow, blast it! What in blazes?" An insect had stung him on the side of the neck, just above the bandage. Guided by reaction, he swatted at the distraction, but this only aggravated the pain.
Hearing his cries, the paladin jailer appeared at the tiny window. This particular paladin was wearing much lighter armour than his brethren, since plate armour was no doubt reserved for honour guards and warrior knights. "What's the matter with you, knave?"
Norris looked up and sent a glare at the man. "I want to talk to the elf woman again. Call the priestess."
The paladin stared at the prisoner for a moment, then unlocked the cell door and went up to the man. "No, you'll tell me first." He tilted his head down. "I'll not summon the priestess down here just so you might spit in her face as a joke."
Norris sighed and nodded, then opened mouth to speak.
"Gah!" shouted the paladin as he suddenly pitched forward. He turned around slightly, clutching at something on the back of his neck.
Instinct took over. As the knight came within reach, Norris instantly threw his arms in an 'x' over the guard's head and yanked in, snaking the paladin around the neck with his chains. The ranger pulled tightly as if he was wrestling a bear, and held the chain in place to reduce the blood flow to the paladin's head.
While the knight's right hand scrabbled uselessly at his neck, his left flailed about wildly. But despite his efforts, his shoulder pauldron couldn't bend back far enough for him to grab Norris' arms. Instead of trying to push backward, as he should have, the dazed paladin foolishly attempted to run forward. In a short time his frantic movements became sluggish, and the knight slowly fell to his knees.
Norris kept his hold on the asphyxiated knight for a few seconds longer to ensure he was really out, then let go and let the unconscious body hit the floor. The ranger kneeled and grabbed the ring of keys on the paladin's belt, and began testing them one by one in the locks on his manacles. About halfway through the ring, Norris' perseverance was rewarded with a satisfying 'click', and in seconds he was freed from his constraints.
As he passed the unconscious paladin on his way out, Norris felt a pang of shame in his heart. But it wasn't guilt for assaulting the knight; it was the guilt that he nearly gave in to the bloody Tyr fanatics. He swore he wouldn't be so weak the next time someone had him down. That only lead to people exploiting him, as he'd painfully learned so many times before.
Norris peeked down the hall and saw that no one had come to investigate. Now all that remained was figuring out how to get past the guards on the upper levels.
(11:08)
In another prison, this one far away from the Temple of Tyr, two guards walked through one of the many labyrinthine corridors on Lancam's Isle. They were currently on Red level, one of the 'special' confinement zones in the prison.
As soon as they stepped into the cell wing, they could almost feel the years of hatred and malice emanating from the jagged stone walls of the place. They were glad that the prisoners were all kept out of sight behind sealed metal doors. The glares alone would have been liable to give them heart attacks.
"So, what's the story behind the prisoner we're releasing?" asked one of the guards, trying to break the looming silence, "I've only heard rumours about the Black Viper."
"I can tell you one thing: He's a survivor. Served for about three years so far, which is actually two years longer than the prisoners normally make it here."
The first guard nodded along. He knew that if the moldy bread and stale water didn't kill a prisoner, then the other inmates would. "But why was he sent up here to Red level?"
"Well, in his first month here, he fought and killed a total of nine other inmates, without ending up with anything worse than a broken bone. We would have hanged him, but each time was in self-defense." The guard wiped at his brow. "He also seemed slated on becoming something of a criminal boss around here, so we had to put him away in his own solitary cell before he gained any more influence among the other convicts."
"Is he really that dangerous?"
"Maybe he was. But I doubt he'll be as healthy after eating nothing but castoff bread for the past few years." They came to a stop at the prisoner's door. "And he's no youngster, either. Wouldn't be surprised if he breaks a hip on his way out."
The guards unlocked the door and stepped into the dusty cell. Standing at the centre of the room, fists punching at the air near the cell's window, was a grey-haired man with a disheveled beard and ragged clothing. It took the guards a few moments to realize the man was shadowboxing to stay in shape.
"Prisoner! By order of the Dukes of Baldur's Gate, you have been granted a full pardon for your crimes. You are to be escorted back to the city mainland within the hour."
Lowering his fists, Dace slowly turned a dark smile on the two guards but said nothing. In swift, precise movements he boldly strode past the guards into the hallway.
One of the guards remained behind in the cell as his companion followed the prisoner out. Although the inmate was now noticeably thinner than when he'd first arrived, the guard couldn't understand how he could still be so fit and energetic.
Dace suddenly called out from down the corridor in a solid voice, "I despised the food, but the birds and rats seemed to enjoy that moldy bread immensely."
Squinting at one corner of the cell, the guard's mouth fell open as he spotted the pile of bird and rat bones stacked neatly on the ground. Most had been completely picked clean of flesh and sinew.
The guard stuck his head out and stared down the corridor as Dace and the second guard vanished down the stairs. "That sly blackheart… they'll have their hands full with that one. Don't know what they could be thinking, loosing him on the world."
(11:15)
In one of the guildhouse hallways, Cerdan caught the resident cleric of Mask by the shoulder. "I've been looking for you. I'm told you've been dealing with a rising number of wounded thieves for the past few hours."
"Yes, sir," replied the cleric, "We've been getting reports that more attacks have been made against guild members, but I'll be hard-pressed to extend my healing to all of them. There are only so many spells I can muster in a single day."
"Hm, yes. Well, I may have something to help you in that respect…" Cerdan reached behind his cloak and began to remove a bag from the side of his belt.
Before the elf could bring it out, they were interrupted by a voice from further up the hall. "Guildmaster!" shouted Tomar, hurrying up to them, "I demand to know what you were doing when you left the guild earlier."
Cerdan didn't bother looking away from the cleric and continued to untie the bag from his belt. "And why, praytell, should I answer someone who eavesdrops on my conversations?" The elf raised his free hand and tossed a wrapped piece of cloth to Tomar.
The lieutenant didn't need to open it to know that it was the Listening Stone he planted on Bryn earlier. "You've been consorting with the enemy, elf. Someone from the Church of Tyr, the very people responsible for the attacks we've faced today!"
The cleric of Mask widened his eyes, "Is this true?"
"The followers of Tyr aren't the type to assassinate people from the shadows. They tend to fight their enemies in the open streets, during broad daylight." Cerdan finally held up the bag of coins that he'd stolen from Selena, then handed it to the cleric. "And yes, I did meet with a follower of Tyr, but it was only to steal this sack of money."
"Preposterous," said Tomar, "Do you really expect me to believe that you met her just for a few coins?"
"No, because the money itself isn't important." Cerdan pointed at the bag as he addressed the cleric of Mask. "Those coins were very recently touched by a priestess of Tyr, so most will still have some trace of her essence on them. If you petition to the God of Thievery and offer up the stolen coins…"
"…then Mask may be able to steal some divine magic from the priestess who touched the coins," said the cleric, "And I'll have more healing spells at my disposal! Excellent thinking, sir."
"I still don't trust your motives, elf. Why did you not tell us about this before?"
"Have I made a mistake?" asked Cerdan, "I wasn't aware you were the leader of this guildhouse."
The lieutenant sneered, but backed down. "Very well, you've made your point. But I will be minding what you do for the rest of your time here. I still believe that you're keeping secrets from us, elf, so don't think I'll just keep rolling over like this."
As Tomar paced off, Cerdan smirked to himself and was content that the lieutenant wouldn't be bothering him any further. For a little while, at least. The elf dismissed the cleric of Mask and then made his way back to his office.
Closing the door and moving behind the desk, the guildmaster pushed his chair aside and pulled up a loose floorboard, revealing a stash of artifacts hidden beneath. The elf rummaged around for a while before removing a smooth, transparent crystal, shaped like a sphere that had been cut in half. Hundreds of tiny sparks of golden light could be seen dancing within the crystal.
He lay it flat atop his desk and stared down at the swarm of lights moving about. The golden insects he hid in the stinkbloom bouquet were from a rare collection of enchanted larvae, created to seek out and sting anyone they encountered. When a person was stung, the bug would leave a trail of magical energy behind, which then appeared in the transparent crystal as a golden wisp of light.
The artifact essentially provided Cerdan with a live map of where the lights were located, relative to the position of the crystal itself. Because all the golden bugs at the Temple of Tyr were currently close to each other, the lights in the crystal resembled a glowing, yellow clump.
The swarm itself didn't matter, of course. All he needed to do was keep track of the sparks of light that moved away from the swarm. He knew that paladins and clerics always traveled in groups, and never too far from an assigned region. If the bugs managed to sting the people that broke into the temple, then it shouldn't be too difficult to pick them out as they fled the scene.
(11:23)
Norris anxiously stepped off the staircase and glanced around, only to find that a large squadron of knights and clerics were now milling about in the temple foyer. Although the ranger was now wearing the paladin jailer's ring mail armour, it was a few sizes too large and hung loosely on his form. He kept his head down, not just to hide his face, but to keep the helmet from wobbling around on his skull as he crossed the room. If any of the knights tried taking a close look at him…
As he passed the statue of Tyr, he heard one of the paladins complaining to a cleric. "I tell you, we must have a wasp nest nearby. Practically every man and woman under my command have been stung by one of those pests recently."
Not bothering to listen to the cleric's response, Norris continued to stride toward the gates and gave a quick salute to the men standing guard as he went past. He exhaled slowly as he walked out into the city streets, elated that he managed to get out unscathed.
"Sir!" yelled a female voice behind him, "Where are you going? Are you not assigned to prison-level duty?"
Both Norris' heartbeat and his pace quickened as he kept going, but the woman kept shouting after him. He suddenly broke into a run, tossing the helmet aside so that he could move without it smacking against the side of his head.
Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that the elf woman from before was chasing him, accompanied by a pair of heavily armed knights. Outrunning the knights wouldn't be difficult since their weapons and plate armour were weighing them down. Eluding the priestess, however, would take cunning.
The ranger raced down the first alley he could find, and made a mad dash for the other end.
(11:27)
Selena skidded to a stop at the entrance to the alleyway and narrowed her eyes as she peered down the shadowed passage. The priestess unhooked her mace and rushed forward, nearly tripping on a large overturned barrel as she approached the very end. As she neared, the elf saw that the passage ended at a particularly high wooden fence, and that there was an empty boot caught at the top, still dangling on a loose nail.
The elf turned and motioned for the paladins to find another way around, "He climbed over to the other side! None of us can make it over, we'll have to go around."
The knights waited for the elf to join them, then hurried out of the alley to find another route.
(11:29)
As soon as the footsteps receded, Norris reached a hand over to the edge of the barrel and pulled himself out of the large container on the ground. He let out a sigh of relief that this sheltered alley was so dark, even near midday. The man stared up at his boot, hanging high on the fence, and wished for a moment that he hadn't tossed it up so high.
Walking with nothing but a sock on his left foot, the ranger approached the exit of the alley and glanced about. He knew that the priestess would be sending more knights to search the region very soon, so he had to get out of the district as quickly as possible.
He grabbed a wide, dirty blanket from a trash pile on the ground and wrapped it over his shoulders to conceal the armour he wore. As much as he disliked wearing the armour of a faithmonger, he had a feeling that he would need the extra protection when he went to face Cordas.
Norris stayed near the side of the street as he made his way south, hoping that he wouldn't encounter any more fanatics of Tyr. Every time he turned his head to glance around, a pain would shoot up through his spine. With the poison spreading through his system at this rate, he'd be hard pressed to win a fight.
(11:32)
The false sergeant wanted a good fight more than anything else. But no, instead Cordas wanted him to go and finish off a paralyzed fool who was likely going to die anyway. Not only that, but the old man had also ordered the sergeant to leave a message on the side of a building near the temple.
So that's what I am, a bloody messenger boy, he thought to himself as he scratched a short sentence on the wall with a thick piece of charcoal.
The sergeant stepped back and tossed the charcoal aside as he finished. Three simple words were now drawn on the wall in huge black lettering, and he had absolutely no idea what they meant or why Cordas would even want them written here.
Before he could wonder further at Cordas' motives, the sergeant noticed someone in the corner of his eye, blocking one side of the alley.
"Vandalism? Hardly seems like a fitting job for a big-name crook like you." Norris still didn't have a left boot, which made it harder for him avoid the numerous mud puddles in the alley as he slowly backed away. He didn't appear to be carrying a weapon.
Not that it mattered, of course. The false sergeant knew he was both stronger and better at melee combat than the ranger. "You escaped from the Tyr-lovers. Was it resourcefulness or dumb luck? Either way, it saves me the trouble of having to break in again." He rested a hand on the hilt of his sword. "Cordas wanted me to bring you in, but I'd rather have the satisfaction of killing you myself."
"In broad daylight? With a platoon of paladins fanning through the streets as we speak?" Norris continued to move back toward the alley's exit.
"Then I'll just have to make this quick." The sergeant reached down and picked up a long wooden object from the ground. When he raised it to bear, Norris realized it was the longbow that he had been using earlier. The ranger looked back over his shoulder, but saw that the end of the alley was too far away for him to take cover.
As the sergeant slipped an arrow alongside the bow shaft, Norris braced his footing and prepared to make a move toward the side of the alley. He knew his chances of dodging an arrow at full speed were slim, but the ranger wasn't ready to give up and let Cordas get away with his plans. The sergeant gave Norris a final triumphant smile and prepared to draw back the arrow.
A figure in tan-coloured clothing suddenly leaped down from the rooftop overlooking the alley, slamming two feet against the sergeant's shoulders and knocking the henchman to the ground. The impact knocked the arrow from the sergeant's grasp, and the missile flipped over through the air before landing in a puddle nearby.
Now more confused than ever, Norris moved back a step when he realized the newcomer was Shen. Why would the easterner be trying to save Norris' life?
When he touched the ground, the Kara-Tur warrior ran a few steps further to reduce his momentum, then spun about and drew his katana in the same motion. Sputtering dirt from his mouth, the sergeant staggered to his feet and fumbled for his sword as the easterner charged forward. Although the henchman was able to bring his sword all the way out of its scabbard, he couldn't angle it up fast enough and was forced on the defensive.
As he came within striking distance, Shen let his sword-arm trail out behind his body as he ran, then lashed out in a quick diagonal arc, batting the unprepared sergeant's weapon aside. Lacking both a confident grip and the space to wield it, the sergeant's sword fell from his grasp and he was forced back against the wall.
The easterner then followed through by pivoting his wrist and cutting horizontally against the henchman's midsection. The attack slashed open the man's outer tunic and armour, but his skin was oddly unharmed. Shen's eyebrows furrowed slightly, and the sergeant grinned as he remembered the cleric's spell was still in effect.
"I can't be harmed by weapons!" laughed the sergeant, and he brazenly grabbed at the blade of the surprised easterner's katana. Although Shen did not seem to understand the sergeant's words, it was obvious that his opponent was somehow immune to his blade.
Shen yanked his weapon away and went into a crouch, then swept his foot out in a half-circle, tripping the sergeant's at the legs. The larger man fell on his side, and Shen wasted no time as he took action. He kicked the stunned sergeant over onto his stomach, then braced a knee against the center of the henchman's back.
"What are you doing!" the sergeant managed to get out, "We're on the same si– mmblghh!"
The easterner was now holding his sword sideways, pressing the sergeant's head down in a large puddle of muddy water. Shen placed more pressure on the sergeant's back, forcing the air out of the man's lungs as his arms and legs started to splash about. To his credit, the sergeant managed to snag Shen by the arm, but didn't have enough leverage to do anything but tear off a good part of the easterner's sleeve.
Norris could only watch with isolated horror as the easterner continued to pin the drowning man in place for what seemed like an eternity. Soon the bubbles in the water ceased, limbs stopped flailing, and the easterner slowly eased off of the dead man.
The ranger tentatively came up beside the Kara-Tur swordsman and stared down at the sergeant's pathetic death pose in the mud. "I don't know why you chose to help me, but I want to say that –"
Without warning, Shen turned and slammed a fist into the side of Norris' neck. The sudden, painful blow sent the ranger sprawling in the mud, and the easterner quickly came over and planted a foot atop Norris' chest. The Kara-Turian snapped a few sharp foreign words and pointed his weapon at the ranger's neck.
A drop of mud fell from the tip and splashed on Norris' neck, and the ranger quickly spread his arms out, feeling for something he could use against his new opponent. His hand touched the arrow that the sergeant had dropped, and Norris immediately tightened his grip on the weapon and slammed it across, spearing the easterner in the lower leg.
Shen screamed and jumped backward, but he slipped in the mud and put his sword-arm out to brace himself against the wall. Fighting against the burning in his neck, Norris forced himself up and rushed at Shen, tackling the foreigner to the ground. As they fell, a golden circlet fell from within the easterner's clothing and landed nearby.
The katana fell from the warrior's hand, and Norris seized his opening by punching the warrior across the face. Driven by adrenaline and his own internal pain, the ranger pummeled the easterner several times more, then grabbed him by the hair and dashed his head against the wall.
When Norris finally let go, Shen appeared unconscious and a gash had opened in the Kara-Tur warrior's forehead. The ranger looked to the side and snatched up the warrior's katana from the mud.
"I expected it would come to this," Norris said to Shen's prone form, "You weren't quite as bad as the rest of Cordas' men, and not just because I couldn't understand a word you said. Still, you're just another goon working for my enemy."
He bent to retrieve the golden circlet from the ground, "At least you've provided me with the means to finally get my revenge on him."
Norris paused as he noticed something; a spot of green on the easterner's skin, beneath the tear in the shoulder of Shen's tunic. Upon examination, the ranger saw that it was the tip of a large gash running along the foreigner's left arm. The sides were covered in a crusty green substance… as if the wound had been made with a poisoned weapon.
The ranger suddenly remembered Cordas back at the crimelord's office, holding the two vials of antidote. Two vials.
Norris reached up and lightly touched the bandage around his neck. "So you're not just a hired blade… you're in the same spot as I am. Another dying man in a struggle to outlive this day, with no choice but to follow Cordas' whim." He shook his head as he recalled that Cordas had destroyed one of the antidote vials. "But one thing remains unchanged: only one of us can survive to see the next sunrise."
He glanced down at the katana in his hand, and wondered what he should do with the easterner. Looking over at the sergeant, lying dead in the nearby puddle, Norris sighed in disgust and planted the katana in the ground by the blade. He couldn't bring himself to slay the easterner like this. Shen was a dying, poisoned man, and no different than Norris himself.
"We're each going to fight Cordas in our own way," Norris said as he backed away toward the street. "One way or another, we'll do what we must. To the victor goes the prize." He took the golden circlet lying beside him, then turned and made his way out of the alley.
Count your hours well, Cordas, the ranger thought to himself, I'm coming for you.
(11:48)
"The prisoner has already been cleaned and given civilian clothes, so he's ready to leave. I'll just need you to sign here, sir," said the prison guard as he pushed a form across the desk toward Tavros.
Tavros quickly marked an 'x' on the bottom line, constantly glancing over at the newly released prisoner. "Did you give him any of his old belongings?"
"Well, no. Anything he was carrying when he was brought here was either destroyed or pawned off. Not many inmates at this prison get pardons, you know. Is there something wrong, sir?"
"No. That's all." Tavros stepped away from the desk as a middle-aged man was brought forward to the trio of Cordas' henchman. Sure enough, the former prisoner face was now cleanly shaved, though his grey hair was still a little unkempt.
Tavros was completely unimpressed with the man they had been sent to retrieve, and he wondered if
Dace tugged at the sleeves of his black tunic, "I would have preferred my old leather armour, but I imagine they sold it off immediately after I was imprisoned here." The middle-aged man then turned his attention to Tavros. "To whom do I owe my gratitude?"
"Extend your wrists," said Tavros. He gestured to his two goons, and they closed in on either side of the assassin. Each thug held a silver arm bracer, which they held out for the ex-prisoner.
Dace darted his eyes at each man, but didn't resist as they placed the bracers on his forearms. When they were done, Tavros covered his mouth and mumbled a word behind his hand. The bracers instantly slammed together on their own accord, leaving Dace's arms bound together.
"Perhaps I do not owe any gratitude, after all," Dace muttered.
Tavros ignored the mercenary's words and nodded to his men. They shoved Dace forward, and began moving toward the exit of the prison so they could return to the docks where their boat was waiting.
When they were out of earshot of the prison guards, Tavros said, "You have knowledge and skills that my boss has need of. When we reach the city mainland, you will bring us to the location of some artifact called the 'Sigil of the Fallen'. You know where it is."
"Perhaps I do," said Dace, "In that case, I am prepared to negotiate the terms of this contract and how I will be paid for my services."
Tavros halted in mid-step and was almost ready to laugh as he stared incredulously at the mercenary. "Did prison spoil your taste for sanity? You have no choice in this matter; your newfound freedom comes at the expense of my boss, Cordas, and his associates. He owns your life. If you think we're going to pay you with anything other than your continued survival, you are a complete fool."
In that moment, a dark wave passed over Dace's expression. The mercenary took a few steps forward and locked his eyes on Tavros. "So be it. I shall go along with all this, but only because I choose to, not because you think you have control over me."
"But I shall say this once," Dace continued, "There will come a time when you are unarmed and alone, and showing fear with every breath. I will have you at my mercy, and I will not hesitate to kill you swiftly and without remorse." He then moved past Tavros without another look. "Mind your mistakes."
Tavros sneered at the mercenary's audacity, and motioned for his men to follow closely. "Keep your crossbows ready," he dropped his voice to a low whisper, "and be prepared to kill him on my command. I don't want any surprises from this one."
All four criminals slowly started to make their way down the craggy path of Lancam's Isle toward the docks down below at the ocean's lip. Within the hour, they would be back on the mainland. Within the day, the Sigil of the Fallen would be in the worst possible hands.
(11:54)
High Prelate Saudere covered his nose as he followed the young page into the dimly lit alley. Why Priestess Shademoor would summon him here was beyond his knowledge, but he chose to come since he wanted to speak with her anyway.
He rubbed at the back of his neck. One of his royal horsemen just told him that almost every person in the Temple of Tyr had reported being stung by some sort of golden wasp. There was probably a nest somewhere inside the tower, and the Prelate considered ordering Priestess Shademoor to provide his men with better rooms.
The Prelate quickly threw that thought out of his mind as he remembered that he had more important issues to deal with.
"Prelate!" called the elven priestess, standing by what looked like a dead body draped in a white cloth, "We've found something you should look at. There was a –"
Saudere waved his hand around to fan away the smell, "As I already told you, I am here only to investigate the appearance of Caden the Bloodletter. There is no reason to involve me in this theft from your temple vault, unless you want me to further criticize the ineptitude of your knights."
Selena swallowed, but kept her frustration from appearing in her voice. "Sir, there was a message left on the wall here. Look there." She gestured to one of the knights standing nearby, and the knight raised a lantern high, warding off the shadows in the alleyway.
Staring at the black, charcoal lettering etched on the wall, Saudere felt his teeth grind together. "Who wrote this message?"
Pointing at the covered body on the ground, the elf spoke, "There was charcoal smudging on this corpse's fingertips. He wears the garb of a city guardsman, but we've spoken to several of the local officers, and they tell us that his uniform is a forgery." Selena looked Saudere in the eye, "I met this man earlier, and I am convinced that he was one of the people involved in the heist from the temple vault."
With a clenched fist, Saudere stepped closer to the message on the wall, never taking his eyes off the black graffiti. "I want you to find the people behind this."
"Yes sir, that is why I asked you to come here. There are two other sets of fresh footprints leading away from this alley, but both tracks disappeared when they entered the high traffic streets. I believe they were heading south, but my duty states that I cannot investigate or pursue them while I am bound to assist you on your visit, Prelate."
"Fine. I release you from my service for now. Use whatever avenues are at your disposal. Just find the people responsible, and find them quickly!"
Selena nodded and moved away to prepare for her investigation.
Moving over to the nearest knight, Saudere took the lantern and held it high so he could stare at the black letters on the stone wall. They were taunting him. Rage burned in his heart as he tightened his grip on the handle of the lantern. Never before would he have thought that three words, such simple words, could give rise to so much anger.
Those three words written on the wall in black, scarred capitals:
REMEMBER CADEN'S HILL.
(12:00 PM)
