Reviews! grins insanely

Its.Garnet.Time: Well, in any case, Captain Fryling won't have much of a role for a bit, at least until the Burning Plains come. Hmm. But I did add a little Mikael Kretz here :) It really doesn't sound at all like the actual Michael, though, but hey, whatever.

Ariel32: Well, when you come back the story might actually be gasp done. Dun dun dun! Anyway, we'll see. I'll see you when you get back!

Kana410: Ooh, a new reviewer! squeals This is a REALLY long story so not too many new faces drop in these days. Keep on reviewing!

Silver sliver: Well, you got saved from a lot of cliffhangers because you came in late in the first place, so it's only right you get treated to one now. All's fair in love, war, and fanfiction writing…or something like that.

Gewher: I'd guess you really could call them brothers. Not lovers, most certainly, just…really close. Read and cherish while you can, because, well, next chapter is VERY turbulent.

Emerald Tiara: It's not like Murtagh goes around wearing a sign with 'I AM A RIDER' written all over it. How are they supposed to know? And besides, the idiot was drunk. Beer and common sense generally don't mix too well.

Nicky377: Yeah, this is a really short chapter so I was guilted into writing another one. At the time of typing of this response, it's still not done, but I'll try to finish it to post these two chapters at the same time. I hope, anyhow; writing inspiration has been really slow for me this week so we'll have to see.

Mistress-of-Misery: Oh, how could you suspect anything of little old me? blinks I'm hoping to round up this story in about six or seven more chapters, actually...I'll see how things go.

Mrs Pierre Bouvier: Yeah, I debated for a really really REALLY long time as whether to make Gen and Ides homosexual or not. I finally decided against it because I know a lot of people have varying opinions about the subject and I don't want to stomp on anyone's morals or whatever.

Note to everybody (yes, that means you, 'note to everybody' is not a reviewer): Uh…what was I going to say again? Oh…yeah…wait…huh. I'm going to be splitting POV's for a bit, same as I did for Salem and Thorn/Murtagh on 4/2/101. So I'll tell Gen/Ides/Rina/Matiel's story first before switching to Salem/Murtagh. They take place at the same time.

Anybody play Neopets? Yes? No? Well, anyway, LET'S GO MARAQUA FOR THE ALTADOR CUP!

(and if you know what I'm talking about, don't you dare play for Meridell)

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4/3/101

Gen pulled himself out of Ides's arms, smoothing down his friend's hair gently. "We should get going," he said quietly.

"Yes," Ides said, looking distant. He stood unsteadily, leaning heavily on Gen for balance. "I—what—"

"You okay, Ides?" Gen asked, overriding the other's stumbled words. "What happened?"

"I—I don't know," Ides stammered. "I think—"

He shook his head, rubbing his eyes, glancing at the direction of the privy pot. "So we have it."

"Quite."

"And—" Ides seemed lost. "Now what?"

Gen paused. "The smugglers, maybe—"

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The shouts stopped after a while, but Murtagh found the location quite easily. The streets here might be filthy, but at the very least the majority of them didn't echo confusingly, throwing off sounds.

There were voices just ahead. He paused behind a building, closing his eyes and listening. There was the name again, mentioned in a quiet conversation by two people who were extremely close to Murtagh's hiding place. He could reach out around the corner and touch them.

He did one last mental check, finding Salem easily. Drawing his sword, he stepped into view.

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Gen stared askance at the stranger who had stepped out behind the tavern; by contrast, Ides had gone pale. "That's a nice sword," Gen said mildly. "You must've paid quite a lot for it."

The man ignored them, his eyes looking past them to focus on—Ides twisted to look—Salem. "I don't want to hurt or kill any of you, but I will if you stop me," the man said quietly, taking a step towards Salem.

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Salem's eyes widened, and she felt herself torn between two instincts—one, run, and the other, fight. She did neither, saying instead in a very calm voice, "How long have you been searching?"

Murtagh shrugged lightly, his grip on the sword firm. "Long enough to get bored. You've been hiding quite well, Salem."

"You know this man?" Gen asked cautiously. "Salem, what's going on?"

Rina interrupted both of them, standing forward with her fists clenched in fury. "You killed Liane," she snapped, her voice barely a whisper.

The Rider stopped. "Yes, if that was the woman's name." He gave Rina an unreadable glance, then turned back to Salem. "If you force me, Salem, none of us will like the result."

Salem swallowed, finding her voice. "I thought you liked killing. I thought you hated me."

Murtagh didn't answer, eyes steady on her face. "Your answer?"

"Salem," Ides said quietly, "what's going on?"

"Nothing," she snapped, fear and defiance mixing equally in her throat. She glared at the Rider. "Fine. If I don't come, you'll kill everybody off anyway and drag me off to your beloved emperor. He must be proud of having such an obedient lapdog." She spat out the words bitterly.

Murtagh's face was closed, blank. His right hand gripped the sword, and he held out his left.

She took it. It wasn't like she had a choice.

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The Rider pulled Salem away into the shadows, never letting go of his sword. There was silence among them as they watched, uncertain.

"Should we go after her?" Matiel said finally.

"Do we have a choice?" Ides asked slowly. "She knows as well as we what our plans our—"

"Doesn't know where the smugglers are," Matiel snapped. "Unless Galbatorix's lost his senses completely, he knows everything about us and Peregrine. Let's just go."

"And we'll leave her?" Ides asked, looking troubled. "Leave her to the dungeons and Orcane-knows-what to be tortured?"

"What can we do?" Gen said quietly. "He has a sword, Ides, and you're tired. None of us have so much as a needle on us, and no legal means will support us over the King's Rider himself." He tilted his head back, looking at the sky. "We don't have a choice."

Ides let out a frustrated sigh. "I still don't like it."

"It seems traitorous, almost," Rina added. "I mean, just because we don't really know her doesn't mean we can leave her to die and rot. She's one of us."

"'Us'?" Matiel barked, laughing humorlessly. "There is no 'us'. 'Us' is a group of ragtag idiots hanging around with a sword over 'us'es' heads. So let's just go.

"Maybe not in such crude terms," Gen said, shooting a dark look at Matiel, "but I have to say I agree. Ides, Rina, there is nothing we can do."

Slowly, they nodded. Finally, Ides said, "We may as well leave now." He spoke in a flat, expressionless voice, though his expression was pained.

"The smugglers," Rina agreed, soft-voiced.

Matiel walked over to the privy-pot, kicking it hard with the heel of his boot. It fell open to reveal an oil-paper wrapped bundle filled with crowns of gold, silver, and copper, and a few random tin pennies rolling around the very bottom. Gen whistled, impressed. "Very nice," he said approvingly. "I'd say there's anywhere around forty to sixty gold crowns in there, total."

"More than enough," Ides said wearily.

Gen gripped Ides's hand lightly, the gesture saying much more than words. "Let's go, Ides," he said gently.

Ides cast one last look at where Salem and the Rider had vanished. He swallowed, raking his fingers through his matted brown hair, his expression distracted. None of them interrupted his thoughts—despite anything Ides might have said, he was their leader. What he said, they would do.

"I suppose," Ides said finally, his voice hopeless and dull.

Gen hesitated at the painful look on Ides's face, then glanced at the others. Matiel met his gaze with a cynical sneer; Rina answered it with an ashamed expression of her own. Salem was not a friend, but despite all that, she was one of them—a refugee with them, an outlaw. And to abandon her to the Rider…no matter how you looked at it, it was cowardice.

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Connac led his troops into the city: Fourth Company, known more commonly as the Gaterunner Dogs among the army. They were a hundred men strong, or ten squads of ten men each, united firmly under the company banner, a silver eagle on a white field. "Well," he said, "at ease. You may as well get used to the city barracks, boys, it looks like we'll be staying here a while."

There was a soft murmur among the troops, then a voice called out, "Captain, is it true that the toilets actually are connected to sewers here?"

Connac grinned despite himself. "Well, it's but a rumor, Private Bilner, and you know how incredibly wrong some rumors can be," he said, making his voice very dry. "Tell you what, I'll flush you and let's see where you come out."

"Oh, but that would ruin his looks," piped another voice. "And that lovely straw-blond hair of his."

Connac shook his head at the slight ripple of laughter, amused despite himself. Bilner's hair was a joke among Fourth Company, being long and silky at any given time despite army regulation haircuts. "Go on. Scat."

The men turned away. Connac watched them go, his heart near full with pride. These were his men—each of them he knew as well as he did himself, and each of them were loyal, good men. Every one of them had proved themselves under stress and battle, and would fight under the silver eagle to the death.

"Dreaming again, Captain?"

Connac turned slightly to see the familiar, dark-skinned face of Captain Mikael Kretz. They had been posted together a couple years ago when they were both lieutenants, serving under the same captain. "Captain Kretz," he said, inclining slightly into a bow. "I thought you were to be rotated?"

"Yes," he said cheerfully, "but the orders said by the end of the day, and some of my boys are still off chasing a robber or somesuch. I've got time."

Connac glanced at the afternoon sun. "Not more than a few hours."

Mikael shrugged. "I'd say Captain Fryling can handle the gate quite capably for that time. I don't see any invasions coming along, do you?"

Connac hesitated. "Well, it's usually two hundred strong there."

"And that's overkill, don't you think? You don't need two hundred men to protect a city from visitors and farmers and folk like that. Unless the Varden decides to poke out its head in that span of time, I don't think there's any cause for worry."

Connac spat derisively onto the ground at the mention of the Varden. Mikael nodded ruefully, sharing his sentiment. "Stirring up trouble," Connac said feelingly. "All these rebels—can't they see that what they're doing would only throw Alagaesia into anarchy?"

"I know," Mikael said, rolling his eyes. "Still, it keeps them occupied, and gods know we can crush Surda at any moment if they should prove too feisty."

There was a flurry of men near the opposite entrance of the barracks. Mikael tilted his head to watch the two squads of men enter, saluting. "Captain Kretz!" one of them panted. "We caught them, double tied, four of them at a hitch. One of them's wounded, but he'll survive. Should we have a healer see to him?"

Mikael stretched, nodding to Connac. "Good luck on this patrol, captain," he said wryly. "Duty calls." He called out an order to his men, following behind them as they left the open barracks.

Connac watched him go. Good luck. He sighed. With his sister mucking about with a bunch of misguided rebels, he would need all the luck in the world.

A light tap on the shoulder alerted him to his own duty. He turned slightly, glancing at the guard and the silver stripes on his collar. "Yes, Sergeant Chandler?"

Sergeant Evyn Chandler jerked a thumb over his shoulder in a very unprofessional way—but then, Connac didn't care much for formalities and all his men knew it. "There's a man at the gates," he said. "Says he's carrying an urgent message."

"Urgent message?" Connac frowned. "What do you mean?"

Chandler shook his head slowly. "I took a look at it—it's marked with the gray seal."

Connac's eyebrows shot up. There were four colors of seals that marked an important decree—black, for a direct order from the emperor, red, for the Forsworn (before they had all died), white, for the various nobles and gentry, and lastly gray, for the sect of shadowy, important folk. Gray seals were very rare and were to be reported to the emperor if seen. "Gray," he said, repeating the sergeant's words. "Take me to him, then."

The sergeant led him out into a narrow passageway, the gate looming ahead. Framed within it was a thick, squat man, astride on a horse. There was another soldier holding the reins of the horse with one hand and holding the scroll with another. He held the scroll out to Connac, who wordlessly took it.

There it was—the legendary gray seal. Connac frowned slightly—gray seals usually came from spies and folk like that—why would spies report to the city patrol? Unless…

"Sergeant Chandler," he said without looking up, "Send a messenger to the palace. Tell them that a gray seal has come." He looked up at the man upon the horse. "And you, sir—

"I'm just a messenger," the man said hurriedly, clutching the horse's mane. "I want my coin and I'll be out."

Connac frowned, taking a closer look at the scroll. '…to give the man who bears this message eighty gold crowns…'

"You'll get them," he said finally, looking up. "But you understand, you might have to wait a bit. Eighty gold crowns don't grow on trees. I'm sure you'd be much more comfortable on the ground." He nodded to the soldier. "Private, please show our guest to a decent waiting place."

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End of Chapter Twenty-Six

Take a deep breath here. Go read some other fanfics. Whatever. And don't forget to review! Then go onto the next chapter because…well, anyway. I would've posted it next week, normally, but it's a VERY IMPORTANT CHAPTER. It starts when they (Sílica) find the smugglers because I didn't feel like writing their search and everything.

You might be a little miffed at Connac's reaction to the Varden, but remember that he's a captain of the army, and nobody gets to a position of command without having loyalties to Galbatorix. Connac is proud of the city and his men. He won't give that up for anything. I feel kinda bad because—BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZTTTTTTTTTTTTT

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