A/N: Still ignoring Rekindled…. Maybe I'll get back to it in a week or two. Or maybe until people start threatening me with strange and abnormal email explaining what they will do to me unless I get back to writing… Enjoy this one! Toodles!
Disclaimer: Being human and not wanting to lose my pitiful collection of money, I am writing a disclaimer. Nothing belongs to me, I am merely borrowing the Ms. Pierce's characters for my evil purposes… I will return them all nice and clean, I promise.
Title: Revenge
Chapter Five: Ride in the City
By: DarkDracon0
At his words, Kel jerked, unbalanced herself, let out a short scream and toppled off the saddle. She felt large, strong hands catch her from behind and shove her back into the saddle. Snatching the reins back in one hand and holding the saddle horn with the other, Kel turned her wrath on to Joren. "You made me fall, you bastard!" Joren raised his eyebrows.
" Such inelegant words from a lady? I expected thanks and gratitude since I just saved your lovely kimono from utter disaster." Kel was nearly speechless with anger and embarrassment. Joren only smirked when she didn't answer back.
"No showering me with your thanks and gratitude? Well, then." Joren yanked her back against him and whispered silkily, "You're lucky that no one is out here this early." Kel could feel his breathe caress her ear and nearly groaned. His hands held her arms, steadying her, as her back was pressed against his chest. She was hanging half on the saddle and half on him. And for reasons that evaded her, she didn't mind at all. What was wrong with her? She could feel her pulse jumping and leaping in bounds.
Joren smirked again. He could see her pulse pounding in her throat. He leaned in and kissed the soft spot just beneath her ear. Kel's breathe whooshed out as Joren touched her weak spot. It was almost the hardest she had ever done in her life, she said softly, " Let go of me."
Joren had to admire her willpower. No romance for this one. Still, at least he could enjoy her for a little while. With her head resting against his shoulder, he slid his hand from her arm to her down her side and on to her hip. His other hand held her by her other arm. And he smiled when she twitched at his touch. "As I oblige you, my lady," he murmured into her ear. He pushed her back up to the saddle.
Kel almost fell back, feeling incredibly dazed.
Joren turned and walked to his own horse, feeling absurdly pleased with himself. He shook his head and checked the saddle. And heard the giggling and chatter that could only belong to a group of excited gossiping ladies. Putting on another smile, Joren turned and waved to them, gesturing toward the waiting horses. And being trained very properly by Lord Wyldon, he helped every one of the ladies on to her mare. And tried to look polite even as he felt the beginning prickling of irritation. Doing a head count, Joren found one missing. Annoyed, he rolled his eyes. That idiot Queenscove hadn't arrived yet. Late. Again. Probably carrying on with his beauty sleep. Stupid fool. Why a healer was coming with him, he didn't know. And why he would be leading a group of simpering, foreign ladies into the city, he didn't know either. Queenscove was only coming probably because he would get a chance to ogle the women, Joren thought sourly. And maybe to heal a broken nail or two.
He hoped to the Gods that Queenscove wouldn't make a fool of himself. Then he wouldn't be able to explain to the king why the ladies laughed at every man that came into her orbit after this.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
That bastard, Kel thought furiously. Gods, she would just love to kick his pretty face in. But her fondest wish had to be denied of her as a noisy group of ladies walked out. More horses waited placidly by another stable boy, the reins held tight in his hand. The ladies all climbed on to their horses with Joren helping all of them, but they didn't move. Frowning, Kel counted how many there were in the group. Five Yaman ladies and Sir Joren. Who else were they waiting for?
Swallowing her pride, she called out, "Sir Joren, who are we waiting for? All the ladies are here!" He didn't answer, nor did he turn to her, the bastard, merely waved toward the palace. Kel swiveled her head. There, a man strode out. Dressed in a similar way as Joren, he was tall, with brown hair and a widow's peak. Emerald green eyes were framed with long lashes and a straight nose. She knew him. She craned her neck, trying to see his face better. The man walked toward them and swung on to a horse standing by Joren with the ease of an experienced horseman.
"Good morning, ladies," he said, flashing a white toothed smile. He certainly takes care of his teeth, Kel thought. "I'm sure you all have met Sir Joren of Stone Mountain. I am Sir Nealan of Queenscove. We will both be leading you out to Tortall's capitol city, pointing out particular landmarks and such. We hope that you will much enjoy the sights." Neal… Sir Nealan know. She remembered him. The tall, lanky boy who had been both her sponsor and friend when she was a page. He had grown. Kel smiled, watching him flirt with one of the ladies. He always did have a weakness for a pretty woman.
Soon, with much more giggling at those handsome knights, they were off through the palace gates. I'm doomed, was Kel's last thought.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Spending close to two hours in the city pretending to be interested in everything that came by her way was really very boring. Kel could almost feel her brain shut down from disinterest. She had already found out the quickest and surest route out of the city without getting caught at the dead of night. Now, all she had to do was smile and endure the hot weather along with the chatter. She'd rather take on a mob of Scanran raiders armed with only her glaive.
"Sir Joren, can we stop at this stall? Oh Mithros, look at that necklace! Its beautiful!"
"No, look at that one! Oh dear, such workmanship!" Yes, she'd give anything to leave now and never come again. Damn, the sidesaddle was uncomfortable. If she managed to survive this godforsaken trip, she was never going to set foot in this city again only unless she was ordered to. Or unless she had gone raving mad.
"Hello. Dare I hope that you are enjoying this?" Kel, surprised, looked up. Nealan of Queenscove had fallen back to ride beside her, his face crinkling in good humor. Apparently, he was enjoying this very much. Maybe he had gone raving mad, too. How much he had changed, she didn't know. That wasn't good. Did he recognize her? She doubted the boy eight years ago could remember her, but he was a mage and their capabilities were as unpredictable as a hurricane. Giving his emerald eyes a quick search for any traces of recognition, she settled (or tried to) back into the sidesaddle.
"Yes, I am enjoying your city. Despite the heat, I find it very interesting." Neal threw back his head gave her a full-throated laugh. She should have been insulted, but she wasn't. Waiting for him to quiet down, she absently cast her eye over a few of the merchant stalls.
"You know," he said, still sounding amused, "when you said that, I didn't believe you for a second. You looked so miserable, I think I took pity on you and decided to keep you company." Kel froze. He saw through her lie? He saw what she was truly feeling? Dear gods, was she that easy to read? Neal, misinterpreting her look of panic, said confidently, "Don't worry, there are other ladies just like you. They also don't like the city that much."
It was in that instant that Kel found that she liked him. "I feel much better knowing that I'm not alone. How do you like your city?" Neal laughed again and responded, "I like it very much when the thieves aren't trying to rob you blind. They are famed for being the best in Tortall. After all, the richest nobles spend their time right here in Corus, many of which shop in the city."
They spoke for several more minutes before Neal excused himself to help one of the ladies climb down from her horse to look more closely at an overpriced necklace. Kel sighed and only glanced at the stalls. She felt absolutely no interest in spend her nobles in useless frills. Maybe a new cloth for her blades without anyone seeing her buying it but that was all. She sighed. It was going to be a long tour.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Joren tapped his finger against his thigh impatiently, annoyed with Queenscove and the silly chatter of the excited ladies with him. His head was starting to pound. Annoyed and even slightly angered, he pressed his fingers to his temple and tried to ease the ache. Damn it, wouldn't the gods be at least merciful and strike him down to end his pain? But no, that was too much to ask…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Oh dear Mithros, we're going back! Yes… I'm saved… Kel thought happily. Neal had just announced that they would be heading back to the palace. And she wanted to nudge her mare forward and gallop back to the cool stables or to her room where she could practice with her glaive or just simply sleep. Ah, what beautiful and glorious thoughts… And they would all be denied of her. Damn. If she did indeed follow through with her desires, her cover would be blown. Damn it. Damn it all to hell. She had to appear the complete opposite of who she really was. She wanted to scream her wrath and frustration. Ad they rode back to palace in a achingly sow pace until Kel thought she really would scream. So damnably slow they were going. As they rode through the palace gates, a servant rushed out to greet them, whispered something to Joren (The blond bastard, Kel thought) and led him away. Joren left ithout a second glance, something Kel didn't blame him for. She'd do the very same if she were him.
"The king's private study?"
"Yes, milord. His Majesty said it was urgent and wanted to speak with you in private," the servant replied, gently knocking on the handsome mahogany before it was opened by the king himself.
"I brought him as you asked, Your Majesty."
"Excellent. Thank you, Timon. If you please, Joren, come in, come in." Timon left and Joren walked through the door, only glanced at the surroundings of the room. It was dark, filled with old, moldering books and leather seats and a large wooden desk. A small fire burned in the hearth, giving the portraits adorning the walls an eerie shadowed illusion since the windows were covered with burgundy velvet. "Sit down, Joren. Make yourelf comfortable. There's some water on that tray by the desk." Joren sat and sipped at the cold water, his eyes narrowing at the king. Whatever he wanted him for, it would undoubtedly be important, else they wouldn't be alone without any servants, nor would they be holding this meeting in the king's private study.
"What is it you sent me for?" King Jonathan IV sat behind the desk, sighing as his body sank into the chair. "Straight to the point, are we? I suppose I should have expected that of you, especially one of your caliber." Joren tapped his fingers against the armrest in impatience. "Well, what is it? I could well be doing something else more importantly than lounging in your private study."
"Such as?"
"That is not any of your business, if you would so kindly leave my personal life alone." Joren's sarcastic tone had no effect on Jon. "Alright then. Sir Joren, do you recall the Red Dragon?"
"The crime syndicate? Yes, many underworld people know it. Still running smoothly, I believe. No spy has been able to infiltrate it as of yet."
"Yes, you're quite right about it. And do you know who the leader of the Red Dragon is?" Joren's eyes narrowed even more.
"There is no leader. The former leader was Varik Rathor, a Scanran, who was captured some decade or so before in the last battle of the Immortals War. He was funding several of Ozorne's armies and rebels as well as providing some of his own men."
"Again, you are correct. However, there have been spy reports from the Yamani and Coppter Isles as well as from Tyra, Tusaine and Galla that there is still a leader in command of its operations. And you know that Varik Rathor isn't dead. He had escaped from confinement seven years ago. He is still free but no one knows where he is."
"It is possible that he's controlling the Red Dragon from somewhere. Even I don't know where he is, but I have a feeling that he's hiding out in the Yamani Islands." Jon jerked his head up, stared at Joren. "The Yamani Islands? We've searched there countless times as well as warned all the people of him. There have been no reports."
"You now that that's irrelevant. Whether or not there have been reports makes no difference. Rathor is smart, cunning. He's famed for those qualities. He has the Gift, he's well capable of changing his physical appearance for a short time. After all, he's an exiled black robe."
"True, but we need some sort of base to look-"
"You mean something to hold hope on to that he isn't there but somewhere else. You keep doing that and you'll never be able to catch him." Jon sighed. "You're right, of course. Yes, its a strong possibility that Rathor still holds the throne of the Red Dragon, but recently, there have been more and more reports of a possible assassination."
"Of?" Jon sighed again, looking much older than he really was.
"Me." Joren arched his brows for a moment before bursting out laughing. "Oh gods," he managed, wiping tears from his eyes. "That's nothing new."
"I'm glad that you're finding this amusing."
"Very. This is nothing new. You do know that Rathor loathes you more than anything?"
"Of course. But he's already sent his assassin. And this one's supposedly very good. Amongst the best. Rathor trained this one personally." Joren stopped laughing.
"Rathor trained him personally? Now that's interesting. Goes against his profile. Rathor prefers to stay cold and distant from his agents and spies. If he's trained an assassin personally, than this one's bound to be very good at what he does. Could possibly have the Gift. And we might as well assume that this assassin has already been planted. If we can get this assassin first, we can get Rathor." Jon nodded.
"Correct. Which is why I"m assigning you to the job. I want you to find the assassin before he can get me. With him, we can get Rathor as well as valuable information on the Red Dragon agents and operations." Joren crossed his arms over his chest and stretched his legs. "I, at last, have something to do. I'll need all information you have so far. Anything and everything."
"Right. You'll begin this assignment with the aid of anyone you wish. However, this must be kept underwraps. Everything must be done in secret. If you have to go underworld, then you shall. But keep in mind that from there, I cannot help you." Joren's eyes flashed a brilliant blue, a predatory look. "Understood."
A/N: How'd you like it? Oh, I kinda borrowed the Red Dragon thing from the anime, Cowboy Bebop. I delayed, prolonged, and ignored it for long enough. I am back. I had to go to a funeral out of country, so please don't get mad at me. Don't. I'm depressed enough as it is. I don't want to be contemplating suicide. Okay…. Just wait a few days for the next chapter for both Rekindled and Revenge… *waves hand in a vague fashion* excuse me as I go back to the drawing board.
Disclaimer: Being human and not wanting to lose my pitiful collection of money, I am writing a disclaimer. Nothing belongs to me, I am merely borrowing the Ms. Pierce's characters for my evil purposes… I will return them all nice and clean, I promise.
Title: Revenge
Chapter Five: Ride in the City
By: DarkDracon0
At his words, Kel jerked, unbalanced herself, let out a short scream and toppled off the saddle. She felt large, strong hands catch her from behind and shove her back into the saddle. Snatching the reins back in one hand and holding the saddle horn with the other, Kel turned her wrath on to Joren. "You made me fall, you bastard!" Joren raised his eyebrows.
" Such inelegant words from a lady? I expected thanks and gratitude since I just saved your lovely kimono from utter disaster." Kel was nearly speechless with anger and embarrassment. Joren only smirked when she didn't answer back.
"No showering me with your thanks and gratitude? Well, then." Joren yanked her back against him and whispered silkily, "You're lucky that no one is out here this early." Kel could feel his breathe caress her ear and nearly groaned. His hands held her arms, steadying her, as her back was pressed against his chest. She was hanging half on the saddle and half on him. And for reasons that evaded her, she didn't mind at all. What was wrong with her? She could feel her pulse jumping and leaping in bounds.
Joren smirked again. He could see her pulse pounding in her throat. He leaned in and kissed the soft spot just beneath her ear. Kel's breathe whooshed out as Joren touched her weak spot. It was almost the hardest she had ever done in her life, she said softly, " Let go of me."
Joren had to admire her willpower. No romance for this one. Still, at least he could enjoy her for a little while. With her head resting against his shoulder, he slid his hand from her arm to her down her side and on to her hip. His other hand held her by her other arm. And he smiled when she twitched at his touch. "As I oblige you, my lady," he murmured into her ear. He pushed her back up to the saddle.
Kel almost fell back, feeling incredibly dazed.
Joren turned and walked to his own horse, feeling absurdly pleased with himself. He shook his head and checked the saddle. And heard the giggling and chatter that could only belong to a group of excited gossiping ladies. Putting on another smile, Joren turned and waved to them, gesturing toward the waiting horses. And being trained very properly by Lord Wyldon, he helped every one of the ladies on to her mare. And tried to look polite even as he felt the beginning prickling of irritation. Doing a head count, Joren found one missing. Annoyed, he rolled his eyes. That idiot Queenscove hadn't arrived yet. Late. Again. Probably carrying on with his beauty sleep. Stupid fool. Why a healer was coming with him, he didn't know. And why he would be leading a group of simpering, foreign ladies into the city, he didn't know either. Queenscove was only coming probably because he would get a chance to ogle the women, Joren thought sourly. And maybe to heal a broken nail or two.
He hoped to the Gods that Queenscove wouldn't make a fool of himself. Then he wouldn't be able to explain to the king why the ladies laughed at every man that came into her orbit after this.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
That bastard, Kel thought furiously. Gods, she would just love to kick his pretty face in. But her fondest wish had to be denied of her as a noisy group of ladies walked out. More horses waited placidly by another stable boy, the reins held tight in his hand. The ladies all climbed on to their horses with Joren helping all of them, but they didn't move. Frowning, Kel counted how many there were in the group. Five Yaman ladies and Sir Joren. Who else were they waiting for?
Swallowing her pride, she called out, "Sir Joren, who are we waiting for? All the ladies are here!" He didn't answer, nor did he turn to her, the bastard, merely waved toward the palace. Kel swiveled her head. There, a man strode out. Dressed in a similar way as Joren, he was tall, with brown hair and a widow's peak. Emerald green eyes were framed with long lashes and a straight nose. She knew him. She craned her neck, trying to see his face better. The man walked toward them and swung on to a horse standing by Joren with the ease of an experienced horseman.
"Good morning, ladies," he said, flashing a white toothed smile. He certainly takes care of his teeth, Kel thought. "I'm sure you all have met Sir Joren of Stone Mountain. I am Sir Nealan of Queenscove. We will both be leading you out to Tortall's capitol city, pointing out particular landmarks and such. We hope that you will much enjoy the sights." Neal… Sir Nealan know. She remembered him. The tall, lanky boy who had been both her sponsor and friend when she was a page. He had grown. Kel smiled, watching him flirt with one of the ladies. He always did have a weakness for a pretty woman.
Soon, with much more giggling at those handsome knights, they were off through the palace gates. I'm doomed, was Kel's last thought.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Spending close to two hours in the city pretending to be interested in everything that came by her way was really very boring. Kel could almost feel her brain shut down from disinterest. She had already found out the quickest and surest route out of the city without getting caught at the dead of night. Now, all she had to do was smile and endure the hot weather along with the chatter. She'd rather take on a mob of Scanran raiders armed with only her glaive.
"Sir Joren, can we stop at this stall? Oh Mithros, look at that necklace! Its beautiful!"
"No, look at that one! Oh dear, such workmanship!" Yes, she'd give anything to leave now and never come again. Damn, the sidesaddle was uncomfortable. If she managed to survive this godforsaken trip, she was never going to set foot in this city again only unless she was ordered to. Or unless she had gone raving mad.
"Hello. Dare I hope that you are enjoying this?" Kel, surprised, looked up. Nealan of Queenscove had fallen back to ride beside her, his face crinkling in good humor. Apparently, he was enjoying this very much. Maybe he had gone raving mad, too. How much he had changed, she didn't know. That wasn't good. Did he recognize her? She doubted the boy eight years ago could remember her, but he was a mage and their capabilities were as unpredictable as a hurricane. Giving his emerald eyes a quick search for any traces of recognition, she settled (or tried to) back into the sidesaddle.
"Yes, I am enjoying your city. Despite the heat, I find it very interesting." Neal threw back his head gave her a full-throated laugh. She should have been insulted, but she wasn't. Waiting for him to quiet down, she absently cast her eye over a few of the merchant stalls.
"You know," he said, still sounding amused, "when you said that, I didn't believe you for a second. You looked so miserable, I think I took pity on you and decided to keep you company." Kel froze. He saw through her lie? He saw what she was truly feeling? Dear gods, was she that easy to read? Neal, misinterpreting her look of panic, said confidently, "Don't worry, there are other ladies just like you. They also don't like the city that much."
It was in that instant that Kel found that she liked him. "I feel much better knowing that I'm not alone. How do you like your city?" Neal laughed again and responded, "I like it very much when the thieves aren't trying to rob you blind. They are famed for being the best in Tortall. After all, the richest nobles spend their time right here in Corus, many of which shop in the city."
They spoke for several more minutes before Neal excused himself to help one of the ladies climb down from her horse to look more closely at an overpriced necklace. Kel sighed and only glanced at the stalls. She felt absolutely no interest in spend her nobles in useless frills. Maybe a new cloth for her blades without anyone seeing her buying it but that was all. She sighed. It was going to be a long tour.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Joren tapped his finger against his thigh impatiently, annoyed with Queenscove and the silly chatter of the excited ladies with him. His head was starting to pound. Annoyed and even slightly angered, he pressed his fingers to his temple and tried to ease the ache. Damn it, wouldn't the gods be at least merciful and strike him down to end his pain? But no, that was too much to ask…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Oh dear Mithros, we're going back! Yes… I'm saved… Kel thought happily. Neal had just announced that they would be heading back to the palace. And she wanted to nudge her mare forward and gallop back to the cool stables or to her room where she could practice with her glaive or just simply sleep. Ah, what beautiful and glorious thoughts… And they would all be denied of her. Damn. If she did indeed follow through with her desires, her cover would be blown. Damn it. Damn it all to hell. She had to appear the complete opposite of who she really was. She wanted to scream her wrath and frustration. Ad they rode back to palace in a achingly sow pace until Kel thought she really would scream. So damnably slow they were going. As they rode through the palace gates, a servant rushed out to greet them, whispered something to Joren (The blond bastard, Kel thought) and led him away. Joren left ithout a second glance, something Kel didn't blame him for. She'd do the very same if she were him.
"The king's private study?"
"Yes, milord. His Majesty said it was urgent and wanted to speak with you in private," the servant replied, gently knocking on the handsome mahogany before it was opened by the king himself.
"I brought him as you asked, Your Majesty."
"Excellent. Thank you, Timon. If you please, Joren, come in, come in." Timon left and Joren walked through the door, only glanced at the surroundings of the room. It was dark, filled with old, moldering books and leather seats and a large wooden desk. A small fire burned in the hearth, giving the portraits adorning the walls an eerie shadowed illusion since the windows were covered with burgundy velvet. "Sit down, Joren. Make yourelf comfortable. There's some water on that tray by the desk." Joren sat and sipped at the cold water, his eyes narrowing at the king. Whatever he wanted him for, it would undoubtedly be important, else they wouldn't be alone without any servants, nor would they be holding this meeting in the king's private study.
"What is it you sent me for?" King Jonathan IV sat behind the desk, sighing as his body sank into the chair. "Straight to the point, are we? I suppose I should have expected that of you, especially one of your caliber." Joren tapped his fingers against the armrest in impatience. "Well, what is it? I could well be doing something else more importantly than lounging in your private study."
"Such as?"
"That is not any of your business, if you would so kindly leave my personal life alone." Joren's sarcastic tone had no effect on Jon. "Alright then. Sir Joren, do you recall the Red Dragon?"
"The crime syndicate? Yes, many underworld people know it. Still running smoothly, I believe. No spy has been able to infiltrate it as of yet."
"Yes, you're quite right about it. And do you know who the leader of the Red Dragon is?" Joren's eyes narrowed even more.
"There is no leader. The former leader was Varik Rathor, a Scanran, who was captured some decade or so before in the last battle of the Immortals War. He was funding several of Ozorne's armies and rebels as well as providing some of his own men."
"Again, you are correct. However, there have been spy reports from the Yamani and Coppter Isles as well as from Tyra, Tusaine and Galla that there is still a leader in command of its operations. And you know that Varik Rathor isn't dead. He had escaped from confinement seven years ago. He is still free but no one knows where he is."
"It is possible that he's controlling the Red Dragon from somewhere. Even I don't know where he is, but I have a feeling that he's hiding out in the Yamani Islands." Jon jerked his head up, stared at Joren. "The Yamani Islands? We've searched there countless times as well as warned all the people of him. There have been no reports."
"You now that that's irrelevant. Whether or not there have been reports makes no difference. Rathor is smart, cunning. He's famed for those qualities. He has the Gift, he's well capable of changing his physical appearance for a short time. After all, he's an exiled black robe."
"True, but we need some sort of base to look-"
"You mean something to hold hope on to that he isn't there but somewhere else. You keep doing that and you'll never be able to catch him." Jon sighed. "You're right, of course. Yes, its a strong possibility that Rathor still holds the throne of the Red Dragon, but recently, there have been more and more reports of a possible assassination."
"Of?" Jon sighed again, looking much older than he really was.
"Me." Joren arched his brows for a moment before bursting out laughing. "Oh gods," he managed, wiping tears from his eyes. "That's nothing new."
"I'm glad that you're finding this amusing."
"Very. This is nothing new. You do know that Rathor loathes you more than anything?"
"Of course. But he's already sent his assassin. And this one's supposedly very good. Amongst the best. Rathor trained this one personally." Joren stopped laughing.
"Rathor trained him personally? Now that's interesting. Goes against his profile. Rathor prefers to stay cold and distant from his agents and spies. If he's trained an assassin personally, than this one's bound to be very good at what he does. Could possibly have the Gift. And we might as well assume that this assassin has already been planted. If we can get this assassin first, we can get Rathor." Jon nodded.
"Correct. Which is why I"m assigning you to the job. I want you to find the assassin before he can get me. With him, we can get Rathor as well as valuable information on the Red Dragon agents and operations." Joren crossed his arms over his chest and stretched his legs. "I, at last, have something to do. I'll need all information you have so far. Anything and everything."
"Right. You'll begin this assignment with the aid of anyone you wish. However, this must be kept underwraps. Everything must be done in secret. If you have to go underworld, then you shall. But keep in mind that from there, I cannot help you." Joren's eyes flashed a brilliant blue, a predatory look. "Understood."
A/N: How'd you like it? Oh, I kinda borrowed the Red Dragon thing from the anime, Cowboy Bebop. I delayed, prolonged, and ignored it for long enough. I am back. I had to go to a funeral out of country, so please don't get mad at me. Don't. I'm depressed enough as it is. I don't want to be contemplating suicide. Okay…. Just wait a few days for the next chapter for both Rekindled and Revenge… *waves hand in a vague fashion* excuse me as I go back to the drawing board.