The Inn of Ill Omen, appropriately named as far as Seraphina was concerned. She blanched at the sight of the rundown inn, it was uncomfortably close to the Imperial City, if she failed in this task it would not take Lucien long to get to the city and select a suitable victim. It rested on the Green Road, a two storey wooden building that gained its business from people travelling between the Imperial City and Bravil. As Seraphina walked towards it she spotted an Imperial Legion Forester outside practising his archery on a target at the side of the building, he had a good aim and pulled his arrows quickly and without hesitation. It made the blonde fill with further dread, just what she needed, a member of the Imperial guard close by, perhaps she would be arrested for murder after all.

The blonde avoided looking at him as she neared the inn and strode through the door trying to appear like an ordinary traveller. She had no luggage, no armour and her clothes were tattered and poor in appearance, it was suspicious looking and she was wary that the innkeeper must suspect her for a bandit, thief or accomplice of criminals. 'Well they would be right,' she thought bitterly as she stepped inside the small bar area.

The innkeeper was a pleasant faced Nord somewhere in his forties with unruly brown hair and the stereotypical blue Nord eyes, he was dressed in simple clothes with a black apron over them and greeted Seraphina with a smile. "Well I'll be a spotted snow bear, a customer!" he exclaimed excitedly. He paused cleaning a mug with a rag to greet her properly.

Seraphina regarded him with surprise. "Business slow?" she queried dryly as she glanced about the dreary place. There was only one other customer, a middle aged Redguard woman who had been leaning over the counter talking to the Nord until Seraphina had arrived. She looked to Seraphina coolly with flushed cheeks that indicated too much drink.

"It has been," the Nord confessed. "We got plenty of rooms if you want one. Ain't nobody here 'cept old Rufio."

Seraphina tensed slightly at the name, so he was here then, well of course he was her luck wasn't going to be that good. Rufio, the very reason she was here, abandoned ten minutes down the road by Lucien armed with only a dagger, a virgin blade he had called it tauntingly, the Blade of Woe. Everything had to be dramatic and theatrical with him, it wasn't enough to force her hand but she had to make the kill alone with a special blade.

"Rufio," she retorted quietly as she felt her throat turn dry, "I've been looking for a man by that name I've heard he makes good potions." It was going to be impossible, here she was asking about him, it was so obvious and the Nord and the Redguard could see her plainly, a young Imperial woman with long, blonde hair and green eyes, she would be caught! Now she understood the reason for those wretched black robes!

"Rufio? He's an old codger, I doubt he's any good with potions," the Nord dismissed. "Been living here for a couple of weeks now. If you ask me, he's hiding from something. But what do I care? He pays his tab. His room is downstairs, in what I like to call the Private Quarters. Use that hatch in the floor over there." He gestured out behind her with one hand to a hatch in the wooden floor. "But don't expect a warm reception."

"Thanks," she said softly. She turned away quickly, too nervous to say anymore and headed for the hatch. Her hands were trembling slightly as she pulled it up to reveal stairs which she headed down as quietly as she could manage. She crouched down and moved as subtly as she could, she needed to do this as quickly and silently as possible, the walls here were thin if the Nord or Redguard heard anything amiss it wouldn't take them long summoning the Imperial Forester from outside and coming to investigate.

The blade was out, it was black as ebony from hilt to point and decorated with gold enamel, fancy and sharp enough, nothing too valuable and not the most well made blade but it would do the job. She paused outside an open door, there he was, well it must be him, standing in the corner of his room mumbling nervously, his back turned to her. She could move in without him ever sensing her but what if it wasn't him? She paused with another moment of nerves, the innkeeper had said he was down here and mentioned no other but what if? Could he know the Dark Brotherhood wanted him? Was this a decoy? She thought of Pennus Mallius, it was bad enough to kill again but she knew she could not have yet another killed in error by her hands, she had to be sure.

So the blonde stood up, giving herself away as she stepped into the room with an audible footstep.

The balding Breton turned to her with wide, fearful eyes. "Who are you? What do you want? I ain't done nothin'!" He was so startled and defensive that Seraphina was instantly suspicious.

'Why is he so paranoid?' she wondered. 'Did he know then that the Brotherhood would come for him? Why?' She thought of Vicente pointing out that not every victim was innocent or worthy of life and wondered if this feeble, old man could really be deserving of death. 'I have to know,' she realised, 'I have to know if he did something but will he tell me? He seems frightened enough to confess...'

"Quieten your voice and confess your sins Rufio," she addressed him softly, "if you want salvation." She hated herself for the theatrics it was too like Lucien's method and yet she thought it would work. If he started to shout down the place she would have to just commit the deed and redden her hands again, or bolt from the place and... 'And what?' she thought as her stomach churned uncomfortably. 'Lucien mentioned Methredhel and Roland, he knows who my friends are, if I don't do this then their blood will be on my hands instead, either way someone's blood is going to stain me.'

"No!" he retorted in a hiss. "Please!" He fell to his knees and looked up to the young woman with teary grey eyes. "I didn't mean to do it, you understand me?" He reached out to her with two sweaty palms to clutch at her thighs. "She struggled! I... I told her to just stay still, but she wouldn't listen! I had no choice!"

Seraphina turned cold at his words and the dagger was down and forward in a rush of anger before she knew what she doing. There was that rage Pennus had brought of her, that horrible, heated, bloodthirsty rage that she hadn't even known was within her until that fateful day just outside the Imperial City. She opened his throat in one fluid moment and he bled to death swiftly with a painful gargle. She thought as she tugged back the dagger with a pant that he deserved much worse.

As Rufio slumped to the ground in death the quiet, mocking applause came. "Well done sister." She turned in alarm with the bloodstained dagger raised, her eyes widening as Lucien materialised out of nothingness. "I couldn't miss witnessing your first true killing for the Brotherhood," he confessed with a wide grin. "The slaying of Rufio was the signing of a covenant. The manner of execution, your signature. Rufio's blood, the ink."

She turned away as the vomit came up; it touched her lips as she doubled over and only just managed to force it back down. 'What have I done? What have I done?' she wondered in a panic.

"My dear do not feel sorry for the wretch, serving Sithis is the best thing he has done," Lucien scorned her.

She turned her head to him sharply in anger, her emerald eyes blazing with rage and burning with tears. "It's me I feel sorry for!" she snapped at him.

He arched a dark eyebrow at this and shook his head scornfully. "Enough of this nonsense, head upstairs and I will join you accordingly."

She glanced at the dagger dumbly and then about Rufio's room before snatching up a dirty looking cloth sitting beside his bed. She used it to hastily clean the dagger as best she could before sheathing it, dropping the cloth back where it was and hurrying out of the room, taking care to avoid looking at Rufio. She headed back upstairs quickly and resisted the urge to bolt for the front door.

"Was it the same Rufio you were looking for then?"

She turned to the Nord with such wide eyes that his own curious stare turned mistrustful. "No," she answered hastily. "He...he was quite rude," she lied, "startled me a bit but I suppose I did intrude on him."

"Ah, well don't take it personally he's just a paranoid old git," the Nord assured.

Seraphina forced a smile to her face and thought her jaw might break with the effort. She turned upon hearing the main door open and frowned at the still grinning Lucien Lachance. "Greetings Sera," he addressed her jovially, "I see you're getting us a table."

She flinched at his words, a table with Rufio dead downstairs, was he serious? She saw from the malicious joy in his brown-gold gaze that he was. 'Bastard,' she thought hatefully as he headed to the bar, 'he's enjoying this.'

The assassin ordered a frothy mug of ale and a small glass of dark red wine and then carried them both to a two seater table in the shadows by the left wall. He sat down and gestured for the numb Seraphina to sit opposite him. She was stiff in her seat and turned her nose up at the glass of wine he pushed towards her.

"Drink to your success sister," he urged her quietly.

"To yours you mean," she retorted bitingly, glaring at him as he savoured his own drink quite happily.

"Both," he murmured.

"So now what?" she queried. 'He's down there,' she thought in horror, 'dead and waiting to be found. The Nord or Redguard could go down at any minute and see him and they know I was there, they will tell that guard outside.'

"It was easy wasn't it?"

She blinked and looked at Lucien coldly. "What?" she questioned.

"It was easy," he said almost accusingly, "the blade went in so quickly and it felt good, didn't it?" His voice turned deeper and more seductive as he continued, "you heard his crimes and enjoyed the punishment, one moment of power, one quick moment of dominance, it's not enough though, you will get thirsty for it again, the rage and the bloodlust will want quenched."

"Stop it," she hissed at him hatefully as she suppressed a tremble. She realised at his words that part of him was right, she had enjoyed satisfying that rage and she had felt Rufio had deserved it. 'He attacked someone, raped them from the sound of it,' she thought angrily, 'he deserved...no! No it's not for me to judge!' She shook her head in frustration. 'This isn't right, they're murderers I...I'm one...'

"Oh it's a conflict," Lucien murmured, "it always is at the start but it will get easier, much easier and you will enjoy it more than you hate it. Being death is a wonderful thing, you are not the judge Sera merely the executioner so do not burden yourself with morals and questions of guilt. They wronged someone enough for the Night Mother to be called, that is all you need to know."

"Why are you making me do this?" she snapped at him.

"Making you? Sera I did not wield the blade or guide your hand, you did that all alone, I merely witnessed. Now, I have another task for you, complete it and then you can return to your beloved Imperial City and find your Fox. Of course know that the Brotherhood will always be watching and I will come for you again."

Seraphina bowed her head slightly in defeat. 'Will the nightmare ever be over?' she wondered darkly. 'What will the Gray Fox think when I tell him about Rufio? I can't, no I can't, he couldn't forgive me.'

"In the ruins of Vilverin just outside the Imperial City a noble Redguard called Dorian has fled and now someone would like him to pay the ultimate price and you are going to assist with that dear sister. I will give you some coin and your weapons back, and then you are on your own but don't get cute and think you can avoid this, go to the city before you find Dorian and you will find Roland Jenseric's head at your door. For all the betrayal he caused you I doubt very much that you want him dead."

The Imperial assassin's final words made the blonde feel sick; it disgusted and frightened her how much he knew about her personal affairs. How many others knew of them? Had she been so careless? No, she was a thief, she practised discretion and yet hadn't even the late Pennus known of her one sided relationship with Roland? 'I'm a foolish girl,' she chided herself bitterly, 'naive and stupid, arrogant because I knew the Gray Fox, I thought I was untouchable but now I see I was vulnerable to everyone, especially myself and my own hubris.'

"I will find the Redguard," she agreed quietly.

"And give him Sithis' greeting," Lucien retorted cheerfully. "Now, drink your wine dear sister it will steady your troublesome nerves."

She clenched the stem of her glass tightly as she thought of Rufio once more. 'Will he haunt this place?' she pondered dryly. 'He died so swiftly, there was no fight in him, it wasn't murder it was slaughter.' She felt ill again but forced herself to take a sip of the wine. If she was to go and kill again she would need the strength of the alcohol.

Seraphina and Lucien departed twenty minutes later, thanking the Nord for his service. They exited out to a bright sunny afternoon and started heading north. After a few minutes of walking, Lucien handed over Seraphina's daggers and a pouch of coin as promised before abandoning her by the road and slipping off into the trees. She stood there motionless for a moment, coin in one hand and her daggers in the other as she wondered what to do. Flee to another city? She believed Lucien truly was gone this time and doubted very much that another had slipped into the shadows of the trees in his place to watch her but there was no way to be certain.

The Dark Brotherhood had four bases; Sera had learned that much in Cheydinhal, they had five superiors who formed the Black Hand, a Listener who conversed with the mysterious Night Mother to find out who wanted to summon the Dark Brotherhood, and four Speakers, of which Lucien was one. Each of these Speakers was head of a sanctuary and had a personal assassin to act as their assistant in a fashion, a Silencer. It was a complicated structure of evil as far as Seraphina was concerned, though she couldn't help but admire their organisation, in ways it was similar to the Thieves Guild.

Hearing hoof beats she hid her daggers hastily on her person and fastened the pouch of coin to her belt. It was an Imperial soldier on a fine brown stallion; she froze slightly under his scrutiny as he cantered past her with a nod. Was he looking for her? For Rufio's assassin? No, he kept going without pause and did not seem to be moving quickly enough to be pursuing a murderer.

'This is madness,' she thought with a shudder, 'I'm paranoid and jumpy already, how much worse will it be if I continue down this path? Will the paranoia get to me first or the guilt?' She wondered sorrowfully how it could be that a granddaughter of a count could end up a lowly thief and now an assassin, a member of the same group of people who had cut down her mother in cold blood and destroyed her life. She had thought a few times of returning to Kvatch, when nights in the city had been particularly cold or the guards had turned particularly venomous against the thieves, lashing out at any poor folk at the Waterfront in the hopes of finding thieves, giving her, her fair share of kicks and punches in an attempt to extract answers. It had been easy then to want to return to a gilded life of warmth, wealth and safety, surely her grandfather Count Goldwine would welcome his only heir with open arms. Of course then she had remembered the murderers in cloaks and worry that they would flock to her and end her as they had her mother had consumed her.

'Oh mother,' she thought unhappily as she started to walk, 'how I've betrayed you and Thomas. I'm one of them now, one of those wretched people who cut you down, but I won't slaughter innocents the way you were slaughtered, it's the least I can do. It's not much mother, I know, but understand I had to protect my friends, they're all I have, the Gray Fox is all I have, and I don't doubt that if Lucien can't use him then he will find a way to kill him.' She swallowed hard as she wondered of the Gray Fox, where was he? Out searching for her? Trying to find a way to free her from the Brotherhood's clutches? 'It's too late,' she thought coldly, 'I've done their will, I'm one of them now.'

It was late in the day when Seraphina finally reached her destination, the ruins of Vilverin. In the light of the fading sun the Ayleid ruins were an impression sight, stark white normally now they were a pale rosy pink as they caught the dying rays of the sun. A collection of ruined columns, broken arches, fragments of walls and stone steps it was a hint of the glory that once was. Now all that was left of the ancient elven glory was the ruination below- a sanctuary of traps, beasts and worse. Seraphina did not know much about the ruins save that Umbacano, a High Elf of the Imperial City who she took pleasure in robbing, had an obsession with them. Occasionally one curious thief or another would venture into the ruins for treasure but would either find too much danger and turn back, steal only from the upper levels, or perish.

She crept up to the main door, a door of stone set in a white alcove, and pushed against it tentatively. It gave way with ease opening up to a set of stone steps descending into darkness. She swallowed hard and ventured in, moving low and slowly, determined not to alert the Redguard or anything else that might dwell within.

In the main sanctuary she saw the low flames of a campfire and heard the low voices of a Khajiit and a Breton discussing the treasures they would pilfer from the place before murmuring darkly about a missing companion. Seraphina sank as low as she could, moving at a crawl and then briefly on her knees before creeping in the shadows on her feet but low and in the shadows. She studied the bandits briefly but there was no Redguard among them and no hint of a corpse. She listened to their inane chatter a moment longer in case they mentioned him but they only babbled about elfish treasure.

It took her another hour to weave her way around the bandits, going through several iron gates, down some stone steps, up a corridor, and then another, avoiding traps and bandits alike. At last she made it to the door to another chamber, a beautiful creature with a blue glowing tree carved into it, if her circumstances had been different she might have taken the time to admire it, but anxiety made her push it hastily and hope the bandits did not hear her.

The next chamber was lit with strange, blue glowing stones, some lying carelessly on the floor, others hanging in iron cages above her. Their light was limited and the chamber had more shadows than the last and seemed bigger and labyrinth like with corridors leading to rubble, and gates opening to dead ends. There were strange noises in the air, whispers, hisses, groans and moans that caused her hair to stand on end. She kept telling herself it was the bandits or a distorted echo but she feared something else in the dark.

It was with relief when twenty minutes later she spotted the faint glow of a torch at the bottom of a winding staircase. She found herself guided by the light to a locked iron gate, through its bars she could just make out the form of a man clutching tightly at a sword. Discreetly she took out a lock pick and fiddled with the lock on the gate, it was old and nothing too difficult and she had it open within a couple of minutes. Gently she eased open the gate, crept in and shut it behind her. She could see now that he was a Redguard with one torch for comfort; it lay just before his feet on the ground. He wore filthy clothes stained with dirt, dust, damp and what looked like blood, but she could tell despite their stains that they were of a high quality, velvets with gold buttons, and fine threaded patterns.

"Dorian," she called out to him from the darkness as she moved forward, "death has found you. Admit your guilt or die a sinner."

He stood upright suddenly, the whites of his eyes showing as he peered out into the gloom and held his sword out defensively. He was too close to the torch however and incapable of making Sera out. "Guilt?" he hissed back angrily. "For what? For taking what was owed! He borrowed from me and I warned him of interest! So he couldn't pay, so I should suffer then? Injustice! I took what I was owed that's all! I warned him fairly! He couldn't give coin so I took flesh, it was deserved!"

"Flesh Dorian?" Sera retorted coolly as she felt a familiar bile rise within her.

"His hand! He deserved it!" the Redguard snapped frantically.

Sera felt a flush of anger rush through him. She knew who he was talking about now, Fletcher Gravious formerly of the middle-class he had fallen on hard times when his wife had become ill and he had spent most of his wealth on potions and healers in an attempt to cure him. She had died just a month ago and he had been left in debt. It was just a week after that, that the poor man had lost his right hand. The city had been rife with rumours about it for weeks but the truth went unknown.

The blonde moved more with a cry of rage but the Redguard was quick, he met her daggers with his swords, and forced her back with the bigger blade. They parried briefly, his sword clanging loudly off her daggers, echoing loudly through the chamber. Seraphina was smaller and quicker however, she ducked to avoid a blow, danced round him and forced a dagger up into the back of his skull before he had a chance to turn.

He let out a sickening cry as his eyes rolled back in his head and he stumbled forward clumsily. He gargled as his sword dropped to the floor noisily and he fumbled awkwardly with his hands for the dagger. At last he fell forward with loud bang and a grunt, his body twitching awkwardly several times. Sera watched, sickened as he twitched, waiting for a moment to snatch back the dagger.

A ghoulish cry caught her by surprise and she jumped as she heard a loud clang at the gate. Her eyes widened in horror at the spectre that stood there, shaking the gate angrily with two rotting green hands. It was a headless, moving corpse, the flesh ripped in places at its limbs showing dried blood and bone, a body that reeked of rot and age, it should not be moved and yet it was, a moaning too despite its lack of a head. It shook the gate with such a force the rattling filled the chamber.

Sera looked about anxiously for escape but the gate was her only way out, it had been a sanctuary and a prison for Dorian. She moved to him quickly, tugged out her dagger, wincing at the noise it made as it slid through skin and bone, and moved to the gate. She charged it with as much force as she could, pushing into it with her right shoulder and forcing it open. She slipped out through the gap and fled as fast as she could, back the way she had come.

The noise of her fight with Dorian however had caught the attention of more than one foe. It came out of the darkness with a surprising speed and grabbed at her tightly with two decaying hands. She screamed at the sight of its face, one eye dangling from the socket, a bloody hole where a nose had once been and skin dangling down its greyish brow revealing blood and bone. The smell that came from its open howling mouth had her recoiling in disgust, it was dry and nauseating, the stench of an old tomb.

Its grip was tight despite how lose its left arm hung from its shoulder and when she stabbed at it through the neck with her dagger, it passed through as if its flesh was butter. Again and again she stabbed, hacking at it wildly until its head tumbled to one side and hung awkwardly by one strip of skin. She kneed it hard then between its legs and at last it let out. Terrified, Sera fled.

She did not care how loud she was this time, determined just to escape. Up the steps, down the corridor, no wrong way! Dead end! She cursed in frustration, doubled back and fled once more as she heard the howls of pursuit. This place was a maze! Round and round, that looked familiar, no it wasn't right she hadn't seen that odd chest before!

Shrieks and moans surrounded her, the ghoulish faces of the undead leered out and her daggers struck out at rotting flesh several times. She dared not halt to fight, striking out as she ran, pushing herself on despite the ache in her muscles and the pounding in her chest. Was she getting further lost? There was Dorian's dying torch; she had gone round in a circle! She tried to think, tried to slow her breathing but they were coming at her from all directions, charging in a clumsy but fast rush, arms outstretched to grab her.

Her face was clawed at, her torso beat at and punched, she staggered back, stumbled over rubble and fell. She rolled to avoid the decaying hands that reached for her and forced herself upright again, cursing once more and stabbing out forcefully with both daggers. She stabbed through a chest where a rotting heart was, then sliced down an already half-open chest causing dried guts to spill out onto the stone floor.

She ran again, retracing her steps properly this time and at last she made it up the right set of steps. When the blue tree door loomed into view she almost wept with joy and did not hesitate to bolt through it. She ignored the puzzled and surprised cries from the bandits, pushing past one and shoving another into a wall as she continued to flee. She needed out, she needed fresh air, open skies and most importantly of all no zombies.

On and on, up and up, it felt like an eternity but at last she made it, back to the wilderness and a cloudy night sky. She staggered away from the entrance, collapsing behind some bushes and let a gasp escape her. It was laboured and burned through her chest and only then did she notice that the sweat lashing down her was cold and that her skull was pounding and her brow felt on fire. She wondered if simply the result of sheer terror but knew it could not be so.

The bandits came down and she shrank down into the earth, forcing her laboured gasps to halt thought she worried that her heart beat so loud it would betray her. They lingered for an annoyingly long time and during it her headache became so bad it almost paralysed her. When they finally slipped away she was not entirely certain as there was a buzzing in her ears, drowning out all other sound and her eyes were watering badly. She gave it a few precious minutes more before wiping her eyes dry and forcing herself to her feet. She looked anxiously for the city, it was close, just across the water, still like glass, it was a dark mirror almost lost without the light of the moons to shine on it.

It was not so dark yet, she could just make out the blurred form of the wooden decking, just a few feet away, she could swim to it yes and then it would just be a simple walk. She stumbled forward, roasting all of a sudden and plunged into the water with relief. Suddenly she was so heavy, her limbs seemed like iron, refusing to bend properly and weighing her down. She was sinking, the water was engulfing, surrounding her, choking her sore lungs and making them tight with pressure.

She shook her head and forced herself to move, up, up to air. She let out a gasp as her head broke the surface and kicked her feet trying to propel herself forward. She had never felt so awkward in the water before! 'It's a disease from those things!' she thought with alarm. 'They infected me!' Her eyes were watering again, the wooden deck blinked in and out of existence as her head bobbed up and down, over and under the water. 'Keep going,' she urged herself as flashes of pain sparked through her head, causing her to shudder and twitch.

Her head banged against a wooden post uncomfortably and she realised she had not the strength to hoist herself up. So she manoeuvred around the posts instead, pulling herself along them until she reached the shore at last. Weakly she staggered and stumbled up, consoled by the sight of the lights of the city just ahead, up on the hill. They were a blur of yellows and ambers to her and she could barely focus on them as she forced herself up the hill. She fell onto the main path with a grunt of pain before righting herself once more, reaching out to the trees on the side of the path, grabbing their trunks and using them to pull herself up.

Guards and travellers passed her by, tutting loudly about her 'drunken state', none pausing to query it or offer aid. She ignored them in turn, pausing every couple of feet to double over with a pant of exhaustion and a groan of pain. The headache was a throbbing migraine now and halfway up the hill she found herself clutching her skull with both hands in a vain attempt to ease the gate. 'A few more steps,' she told herself, 'just a few more.'

She fell again and this time had not the strength to right herself. She was too weak, too tired, too sore, too ill. She tensed as a pair of hands grasped her roughly and hoisted her up and was incapable of resisting when they tossed over a horse's saddle sideways. A groan of pain escaped her when the horse started walking, the movement causing her dizziness to worsen and her head to pound with each step the horse took. She was almost delirious now with pain and had not the wit to even think about who might have lifted her- friend, foe, guard?

When they reached the top of the hill, they veered off to the stables though Sera wasn't to know it as she slipped into a blissful blackness just before they reached them. Her rescuer or abductor as it possibly was, pulled her down with little grace, abandoning her on the grass briefly while he guided his mare into a stall and offered coin to the hungry eyed Orc who greeted him.

"And don't even think of eating her," he growled out moodily, "I swear or I'll have your hide."

A grunt of displeasure was his answer.

He turned back to the woman in the grass and shook his head wearily before picking her up and throwing her over his right shoulder, wrapping one arm about her waist and the other about her legs to secure her in place. He carried her into this manner to the main gates of the city, naturally earning a hostile look from the guards there. "My friend had too much to drink," he explained with a grin.

The two guards exchanged a glance before one sighed and let him in. She didn't look like anyone important and frankly neither did the man carrying her so he doubted he would have to hear about it if the man's intentions were less than friendly.

He carried her with a few grunts of displeasure to a modest townhouse in the city, which he fumbled to unlock. Once inside he breathed a sigh of relief before dropping her clumsily on a worn rug before a dying fire.

"Matthias what in Oblivion?" This exclamation came from the young Imperial male who jumped from his bowl of broth to look at his friend in disbelief before turning to ogle the unconscious blonde. "Hey she looks familiar..."

"She's that bloody thief from the Waterfront," the Breton, Sera's potential rescuer/abductor, growled out moodily. "She stole from Umbacano not that long ago, took me on a right run around."

"I see, so what? You're getting revenge, giving her to the guards, getting back Umbacano's treasure, what?"

Matthias gave a small grin and shrugged. "We'll see."