-26-

"We need an experienced contingent of constructors though, and most importantly, an overseer to ensure a smooth operation."

"I'm well aware of these, and guess what? You're officially appointed as the overseer. As for the extra work forces required, maybe you might consider employing the services of Kegar's blacksmiths."

"What, me? Is this final?"

"Yes, I've gave it some thought, and you'll be the man behind this. Why don't you contribute you and Smith's very own Fiendbane Enforcers?"

"What!?"

"I'm sure Smith won't mind too much."

"But the Fiendbanes aren't a force of construction workers!"

"Relax, bud. This is just a mere suggestion. From what I heard the famed Fiendbanes are not too bad at craftsmanship and building works!"

"And how embarrassing it would be for them to be reduced to mere workers slogging for a meagre wage."

Larzen was headed for the barracks, recalling the conversation he had with the king earlier this evening. The tall warlord had just came out of Kegar, the blacksmith department chief's camp to request for additional forces for the construction of a pipe system during the re-construction of certain places in Prontera.

The fair capital city of Rune-Midgard was now a city of hammering and snowing wood chips. Wooden ladders were stacked against walls, the workers atop of it hammering nails to secure a particular block of wood to cover holes or damages, before painting it. A few supervisors patrolled their assigned areas, hollering instructions to angle whatever the workers were hammering properly, either that or they were shouting for extra tools from other idling workers.

Another exhausted day of work was finally over. Workers packed their construction tools lazily, a handful of them ignoring their supervisor's instructions to clear the area of dirt before taking the night off, much to their frustration. At last, the city was quiet when night descended. The gradual hammerings, drilling and loud clattering of ladders that had annoyed the already unease residents stopped as the workers headed home for a hearty dinner and rest.

Larzen recognized his barracks where the Fiendbanes and the two Prontera Warlords stayed. The Fiendbane Enforcers, a famed phalanx of cold-hearted warriors acting under the orders of both warlords, carried out their works in ninja suits veiling their whole body except for the eyes, leaving a slit open for sight. Everyone in Prontera knew very well how this not-to-be-underestimated group worked during their objectives. They would score a hit on the opponent's heart with their Muramasa, then ripping it out with a quick dig and a rough yank.

Not only did they prove their valor and worth in battle, they had great deal of knowledge on mechanism and blacksmithing. It was little wonder the king very much wanted them to aid in the plan Larzen brought up early this morning. The tall warlord spotted Smith by the barrack entrance, then he sighed in content as he did not have to comb the barracks to look for the warlord who was always on the go.

"Yo, Smith. We need to discuss something."

The white bearded warlord looked up to see Larzen looming over him with a grin on his face. For a moment he thought it was some sort of mockery.

"I'm waiting for the supervisors to report today's progress. They should be here any moment, so make this snappy big man."

"The king's wanting our men to work on the underground business," Larzen went straight to the point quickly as instructed.

"Our men? Fiendbanes is it?"

"Exactly. The king's saying that they might help with their knowledge, speeding up the process."

Smith's frown deepened, the dwarf-like warlord stroking his thick beard.

"This… Fine. I'm sure it won't pose too much problem. However –"

"What?" Larzen interrupted eagerly.

"Let me finish! If battle ensues, we would have to withdraw them from the works."

"Yes, definitely."

"Those damned supervisors are taking too far long! If you have more to say, leave it till I return."

Smith strode off to the nearest construction site, shouting out for an exasperated supervisor who was intimidating and threatening to axe a worker for failing to nail a board fimly, ending up being nailed on the head by the loose board. Meanwhile, Larzen stood by the entrance smiling to himself, his mind began forming plan after plan, and how fine would things be with the Fiendbanes working on it. Then, a sudden crash across the street snapped him from his reverie. Another loose wooden board fell from the top, clipping the livid supervisor's ears. He shook his head at the the poor worker's fate that he was going to suffer.

-

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The black robed wizard walked among the large garden of a very small settlement by the name of St Caprina, a place where aspiring monks went to be promoted to become a full-fletched monk.

As he expected, he drew suspicious gazes wherever he went, mostly monks. On top of that, he saw acolytes and other passer bys talking in low tones, whispering negative comments to each other about this renegade wizard who was heard to possess unnaturally strong powers. A few monks even claimed boldly that he was working for the Dark Lord himself, and his presence here was not welcomed.

The wizard knew of this taboo against him in almost every town. But he chose to eschew from them, pretending that they did not exist as usual. Deciding not to cause any more unnecessary disturbance among the peaceful settlement located far east of Geffen, he left the gardens and headed for the infirmary. He was told by Manald during their journey that his concoction had made her job simpler, for the strong herbal drink had stopped the flow of toxin in his body. If she was to expend all her energies without the mixture, Skull might not have survived. He began to feel a different sense of satisfaction that he felt whenever he cast a spell successfully. His knowledge on herbs had proved useful this time…

The two rings made a soft jingling noise as it swayed gently. The Staff of Soul he carried with him granted him a greater sense of satisfaction, the touch of it seemed to enhance his already immense powers. The two rings glowed mildly in the presence of the staff, as if it were just as glad as Sagi was upon retrieving it. The Staff of Soul was about ten inches longer than a normal walking stick, reaching up to Sagi's shoulders from level ground. Red ribbons were tied loosely around the smooth silver shaft, and atop it a magnificent blue crystal ball was flanked by a pair of what looked like folded angel wings. It was just so pleasing to the eye, and to the feel as well. The monks and other passer bys stared at his new possession in fascination.

Maraulea watched the limb form dressed in pale purple cloak laying on the bed, the rogue jabbing a stick playfully at his ribs. Apparently awakened by her, the assassin made a weak attempt to ward off the disturbance. Maraulea merely giggled at his reaction, continuing the jabbing in the ribs. The assassin began groaning incoherently, forcing the red haired rogue to lean closer.

"What? What? You wanna say something?"

An unintelligible reply came out, the rogue completely comprehending nothing. The annoyed threw away the stick, turning her attention on the weak assassin who had just awoke.

"What do you want? Water? Food? Or even… her?"

"None!" he finally croaked out. "I… I was sa… saying where is… is this place?"

"Oh, you should've said so earlier. I did not understand what you were mumbling about, Mister Immuonnas. We're at St Caprina, home of monks I suppose," she answered.

"Why? How –"

"Yes! Thisistheparti'vebeenwaitingfor! Let me start from scratch. By the time me and Manald reached Geffen, we saw you lying there with Sagi tending to you," she began launching into a story, talking quickly and excitedly. She described how worried the priestess was when she was told of Skull's condition, how the poison in his body was temporarily stopped by Sagi's potion and how Manald took over and spent large amount of her healing energy during the purging process.

Skull gave up, leaving the talkative rogue to complete her story. He had no intension and was too weak to stop her. When Maraulea came to the healing part, she began emphasizing and hinting about the priestess, but Skull merely shrugged in disregard.

"Where's both of them now?" he asked in a complete sentence, after he felt strength returning to him.

"You don't have to ask indirectly, you know? The wiz went off to the gardens, and Manald is recuperating from exhaustion in this same infirmary. I could help you there –"

"Give me some water," Skull interjected rudely.

"Fine," she shot back in slight disappointment, handing the assassin a bottle of water.

After emptying the bottle of water, he saw the rogue opening her mouth to say something, but he stopped her with a hand raised.

"Don't tell me now that this water is purified by her and sent to me. I'm off," he said firmly, but with a hint of sarcasm.

"At least change into something proper, Immuonnas. You don't look pleasant this way, tattered and torn."

Skull grabbed the fresh cloak from her hands, removing the bloody and torn cloak he was wearing. He felt revitalized; the gut wound he had earlier and the whip he received were all closed. For some reason, he felt grateful this time, even though he rarely showed it when others helped him in previous experiences. At first he intended to look for the priestess to thank her, but it was not his nature to portray all these emotions. Maybe he would just let it pass…