A woman of the Karaya, upon learning that she is with child, sets out to forge a weapon for her unborn son or daughter. She wills the Spirits of the Earth to fill the iron vessel, asking her ancestors to help watch over her child. Upon earning the soriak, the child is given the weapon, and becomes a warrior. Just as a child is protected by its mother, a warrior is guarded by the Spirits… and all mothers must eventually rejoin the Spirits.

-Sulduna, Karayan Elder
Quoted in Spirituality: a Discourse on Primitive Theology, published in Sanadia, circa IS 389.

-Percival-

Even alone, Percival wore a practiced smile as he paced through the empty library. The rustle and clank of his greaves sounded with each step, and he turned on his heel when he reached the opposite end of the room.

An object caught his attention. Raising an eyebrow, he walked over to examine the sheathed sword placed upon the mantle over the cold hearth. The hilt was commonplace and without distinctive markings, but the blade was altogether different. Bronze details and blue cloth highlights, and a hilt wrapped in strips of black leather. The sword was mundane—intentionally austere, but the subtle markings on the cross-guard were unmistakable. Why is this here?

The sound of creaking floorboards reached him. Percival held his breath, hesitant to touch the sword even as his hand reached out for it. "This is…"

"…Mine," said a voice.

Hugo cut past him and grabbed the sword from its resting place, guarding it jealously against his chest.

The floorboards creaked again as Percival watched the boy with surprise. "The sword is yours?" he asked incredulously. Hugo frowned, but did not repeat himself. Dressed in the attire of a Zexen gentleman, the barbarian could almost pass for the owner of such a sword. Had the sword been of Zexen origin!

"I wouldn't be so rude as to touch another man's sword," Percival said, feeling somewhat insulted. Hugo said nothing, but watched him warily, like an animal cornered in his nest. Percival sighed. "If you don't wish to talk about it, let me say something else. I've seen you bicker with the Captain about what you think happened at Karaya—"

Hugo frowned. "Bicker? What's that supposed to mean? I know what happened at Karaya."

"No. You don't. You've misunderstood."

"Misunderstood?" Hugo asked with a snort. "She told me it was a 'mistake.' So tell me what I've misunderstood."

Percival felt the leather beneath his gauntlets as he clenched his fists at his sides. "Listen; she had nothing to do with the attack on Karaya, and nothing to do with taking you hostage. The Captain was with your mother when the lizards attacked the camp, and once she'd taken the reins on the situation, the attack had already begun. She didn't give the order. She didn't know about it. It was Alron who attacked Karaya."

Hugo's eyes widened. "But, why—"

Percival let out a small laugh. "Why didn't she tell you? Because the Captain is too proud to place the blame on someone else, even if it's a worm like Alron. She's the commander of the knights, after all. Even if it's stupid to think about it like that." He shrugged, and added, "It wasn't her fault."

Hugo "If that's true—"

The door opened, and the Captain stepped into the room. Hugo forgotten, Percival turned to face her with an awkward salute.

"At ease," she said, and nodded at the boy. She looks tired, he thought. This is wearing her down, certain as grain on the millstone. His heart sank. …and the mill's not going to stop anytime soon. Smiling despite his unease, Percival walked over to stand by the doorway. It felt better, that way.

-Chris-

Blinking to clear her bleary eyes, Chris sat down in one of the library's cushioned chair. Her eyes lingered on Hugo as the barbarian took his seat, cradling his father's sword in his hands. There was a stiffness in the way he held himself, but she could not say whether it was tension or lack of familiarity with the luxurious furniture. His eyes were intent on her as she glanced over his clothes, lingering on his features in the city attire. Yes, she thought, idly tracing her finger around her ear as she reclined, he can play the part.

Breaking her stare, she noticed his wrists. "You are still wearing those…" She gestured vaguely, beckoning for him to fill in the word.

"They're warrior bracelets," he said. He shifted his position uncomfortably, glancing at Percival, and then back at her. "I won't take them off." His face set in a stubborn expression.

Chris sighed inwardly. "I am not sure that is wise. Vinayans may be remarkably ignorant of barbarian customs…" she quickly corrected herself; "That is… Grasslander customs." She hesitated for a moment, smoothing her breeches before continuing. "But it is still feasible that someone will recognize your... adornments… for what they are."

Hugo shrugged, placing his sword on the table to his side—after giving Percival a suspicious glance. He sat up straight and folded his arms over his chest. "I'll take my chances."

Chris held her tongue as she heard footsteps in the corridor. She turned to watch the door.

"I don't see why I'd be running about the city, anyway," Hugo said.

The door swung open, and Nash stepped into the room with a look at Hugo as the boy finished speaking. "Oh, it's quite a lovely little city, really. Charming, and quaint." He cast a smile at Percival, and the knight returned a smirk. Swaggering over to a chair, Nash sat down. "And the women are captivating," he grinned at Hugo.

"Not really," the boy said, shifting uncomfortably.

Nash chuckled, and as his eyes turned on Chris, his mirth turned to a predatory smile.

"I must confess; I do not yet have reason to trust you," she said. Nash leaned back into the chair, putting one leg above the other. He seemed completely confident—effortlessly at ease. He does seem the dauntless type, she thought. How much of it is an act?

"You know I'm not working for your enemy," he said. He wore a smug look on his face, and his eyes roamed the library casually, as though taking in the sights.

"Who is my enemy?" she wondered.

Nash smiled. "Not I," he said. Standing up, he tapped a gloved finger at his nose. "Like I said, my employer is curious to know what is going on in this region. It does not lie in his interest to promote chaos and anarchy in the Zexen Confederacy. That's where I come in."

"Your employer is Harmonian," Chris stated.

Nash smiled, but said nothing.

Chris clasped her hands over her lap, and frowned. How could I trust this man? He has too many secrets. She glanced at Hugo, but quickly turned her eyes back on Nash when the boy met her gaze. With Hugo, I know where I stand, even though we both seem to be as confused as a pair of headless hens. "How can I be sure," she asked, "That you are not a spy sent to gather military intelligence in order to spearhead a Harmonian invasion? A Harmonian army is currently marching towards Zexen territory."

Nash shrugged. He paced around his chair, and placed his hands on its back. "You cannot," he said with a roguish smile. "But if I were… what would I gain by helping to liberate Zexen's most beloved and successful military commander?"

Chris sighed. "Foolish flattery aside," she said, casting a dark look at him, "Your argument is persuasive."

Idly nodding, Nash leaned against the chair, and slid back into his seat.

Hugo cleared his throat before speaking. "Nash has been true to his word, so far. I don't know if he can be trusted…" he glanced at the man, who returned a warm smile, "But I don't think we've got much of a choice. Even if he's a spy for the Harmonians…" Hugo hesitated, and glanced between the three others present. He seemed uncertain, for some reason.

"Yes?" Chris urged.

Hugo shrugged, and squirmed in his seat. "Even if he's a spy, there's not much we can do. I think it's better to just cooperate with him."

Metal links rustled as Percival stood up from his position against the wall. "Unfortunately, I have to agree."

Chris nodded to herself. Yes; my assessment, as well. If he is a spy, I will need to deal with him eventually, but right now… Right now, Harmonia is the secondary threat. She sighed. I wish I had Salome's counsel to guide me.

"Unfortunately…?" Nash asked, feigning hurt.

Percival merely smirked, leaning back against the wall and crossing his arms.

"Now," Chris said, "I have sent Jena on an errand. She will be busy for a time, and we are free to discuss matters at hand."

Hugo leapt at the chance. "If you want to replace the Council, why don't we just strike, right now?"

Nash chuckled. The boy cast an annoyed glance at him.

"Matters of politics are not quite as simple in Vinay as they are… in the Grasslands," Chris said. They are barbarians, after all; no matter how convenient it would be at this time to simply use the sword.

Hugo grunted. "If something's rotten, you throw it out."

Chris shook her head. She leaned slightly forward in her chair and fixed her eyes on Hugo as she spoke, "Removing the legitimate authority without a legitimate replacement could trigger internal strife that could threaten to divide Zexen. Such chaos would be harmful to the people; not to mention that it would hamper our efforts to defend against…" she glanced at Nash, "An invasion." The man showed no sign of reaction. He rested his cheek on his fist, and the small smile on his face did not waver.

"It's true;" Hugo said with a frown, "A succession of chieftains is usually bloody, but sometimes it's what has to happen."

Chris placed her hands on her knees. "In this instance, it has to be done the correct way."

"Forgive me, Captain," Percival said, "But how will we fight Harmonia, if it comes to an invasion?" His eyes rested on Nash as he spoke, but the man seemed not to notice.

Chris glanced at Hugo, and then Nash. It seems I am forced to place my trust in those I cannot trust. She drew a deep breath. "The Council likely intends to ally Zexen with Harmonia against the Clans."

Hugo snorted, and shot her a defiant look. "They'd leap at the opportunity to crush the Clans. Even better if they don't have to face us honorably."

Chris stiffened, but swallowed her retort. "I believe," she continued, "They will accept suzerainty under Harmonia. However, we will not involve the people of Zexen. We Knights will go our own path, and the new Council will do what needs to be done."

Nash's face lit up with curiosity, and he leaned forward in his seat.

Percival walked towards them. "Captain…" He frowned. "How can we rebuke an invasion without the support of our people?"

Chris raised her head to look up at him. "With the right people on the Council, it is possible. I have already set events in motion to this end, but we will need an ally; someone who can lend legitimacy to the new regime yet serves our interests."

"The Council will try to prevent that," Hugo said, "But they cannot be aware of their people as a chieftain is. Can they stop it?"

Chris looked at her hands before answering. "There is a risk. Jena will no doubt have sent a messenger to verify the location of the Chimera. She does not trust me, but she will need proof before acting. I will need to act before this messenger returns."

Nash cocked his head. "You don't know where the Chimera is. What if we have this messenger followed?"

Hugo's face lit up. "We could make sure that the message never reached her. That way, Jena would assume that you really are her."

Chris nodded. "That would be advantageous. However, we do not have the resources to prevent her from sending a message—or several messages. Were it I, I would be paranoid in my precautions. Besides, there are more pressing matters at hand. Jena will not sit idle; she will attempt to unmask me at every turn." I've even considered using the Hunter Runes we obtained from the foreign assassins, but the risk is too great.

Percival cleared his throat. "Captain… Why won't you just detain her?"

"No," she snapped. She shook her head irritably, and drew a deep breath to focus her thoughts. "I need Jena to lend legitimacy to what I am attempting to do. This is the role she must play, even if it is risky." Even if I hate it.

There was silence. Hugo and Nash glanced at each other.

"Regardless of where the Chimera is now, she is clearly not in the vicinity of Vinay. We have time," Chris said. Will it be enough? She clasped her hands over her lap. "I believe that Jena's first move will be to speak with the Council, or Alron."

Percival took a step forward. "Forgive me, Captain, but I have some matters to attend to."

Chris bowed her head at him. "Of course."

Percival bowed, and quickly turned to leave the room to the tune of clanking armor. The floorboards outside creaked with each step. Nash watched the knight until the door closed behind him. Then his eyes snapped back to Chris. He leaned against the armrest and glanced between her and Hugo as he spoke. "So. You two seem to be getting along… swimmingly."

Chris glanced at Hugo, and their eyes met for a moment. The barbarian shrugged, mimicking her confusion. Why the sudden interest? She looked back at Nash, and saw that he wore a satisfied smirk. She shrugged. "In spite of our differences, we are both mature enough to cooperate."

Nash grinned. "Oh, yes; quite mature." He leaned over towards Hugo and gave the boy a meaningful glance before letting his eyes roam over Chris. "Some more than others."

Hugo's cheeks spotted with color, and his eyes jerked away from her. "I…" he started.

Nash watched the boy with great curiosity. "Yes?"

Chris raised an eyebrow. "Am I missing something?"

"No!" Hugo exclaimed heatedly. Flashing a grin, he gestured dismissively. "No, there is nothing. I mean… there is nothing to miss."

"I beg to differ," Nash murmured, just loud enough to be heard. "Either way, I'm sure you two will be… cooperating… to great satisfaction."

Hugo's gave a start, and his cheeks blossomed with even more color. "I am sure we will be," Chris said. Hugo looked like he was about to choke. At his side, Nash wore an exceedingly smug expression. Worried, Chris rose from her seat. "Are you well, Hugo?"

"I'm fine!" he said, standing up quickly. Flustered, he avoided her eyes. Chris creased her forehead. Unconvinced, she studied his features for sign of illness. Hugo drew a sharp breath, and pushed her hands aside gently. "I said I'm fine."

For a moment, they stood looking into each other eyes, hands still touching. "Very well," she said, taking a step back. She idly fussed with the hem of her shirt. Why should I be so concerned, anyway?

"I could do this all day," Nash drawled.

"I could not," Chris said, turning to face him. "Did you do what I asked you to?"

Nash slipped out of his seat, and with a groan, he stood up so that the three of them were huddled together conspiratorially in the library's middle. Chris casually backed away from him. "I did. I watched the Customs Assembly, like you wanted me to." His lips curled into a broad smile, and he seemed to place overmuch emphasis on the word 'wanted.'

"…and?" Chris asked. Her heart quickened.

"I think you're right about that woman."

Chris could not help but to smile. "I see." There is yet time. "I am going to pay a visit to an old friend. You know what to do."

Nash nodded, and stepped out of her way. She started towards the door, but glanced back at Hugo and raised an eyebrow. "Are you coming?"

Hugo hid a look of surprise before nodding. The sheath rasped against the table as he pulled his sword from its resting place. Without a word, he followed her.

Nash chuckled. "Introducing him to your friends, already?"

Chris turned her cold eyes on the man. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," he said.

She could hear him chuckling as she left the room.

-Nash-

The tavern's atmosphere was lively and boisterous, and loud voices battled with the sultry singing of a dancing girl on the small stage to the side of the room. The chamber vibrated with the pace of clapping hands and feet. Nash leaned in against the table as he spoke, cradling a mug of ale in one hand and gesturing wildly with the other. "No, it's true, I swear!" he said, "The Silver Maiden's been put into the dungeon by the Council!"

"What?!" a rowdy man exclaimed. "You lie!" said another.

Nash shook his head. "I wish I were, my friends!" He feigned outrage. Glancing at the nearly empty pitcher, he called out to a serving wench to refill the ale, eliciting a cheer from his new friends. As much as he preferred peace and quiet to this racket, he was glad to have gotten out of Chris and Hugo's way. That tension's so thick, you could cut it with a knife, he thought. Does she realize how she looks at him?

"Where'd you hear this?" a stocky, balding man wondered.

Nash wagged his finger excitedly and nodded. "I know a man works with the Council, I do. They called her in there and they were talking about having her flogged, he says!"

"Flogged?!" they roared as one. Several of the men rose halfway from their seats, and curses were uttered. "You sure 'bout this?" a red-faced, mustached man asked.

Nash nodded vigorously. "Sure as eggs is eggs!"

"Those bastards… How dare they?!"

"They should be the ones getting flogged!" another man exclaimed, slamming his mug onto the table so that the ale splashed over his hand.

"You said it, Gandran!" another man said.

Nash put a deep frown on his face as he spoke, "They're traitors to Zexen; that's what they are. They're overstepping their boundaries; that's what they're doing." These people certainly love their Silver Maiden, he thought. I wonder if there's more than tension between her and the boy. If the commoners get this riled about the rumor of a flogging, they'd probably take my head off if I suggested that their precious heroine had been taken by a Grasslander.

"We should…" a particularly drunken man said, burping, "We should bust her out!"

"Yes!" a cheer rose from the assembled men.

Nash shook his head, "No, my comrades. Tonight the ale has sapped our strength; we shouldn't rush. Instead begin spreading the truth; make sure people realize what's going on."

The men muttered amongst each other, nodding slowly. "You're right," one of them said.

Nash nodded, and downed the remaining ale in his mug before setting it down. "We patriots have to stick together."

A cheer rose from the table.

-Hugo-

Chris halted suddenly just as they passed from the alley to the adjoining cobblestone street and put a hand on Hugo's shoulder. He glanced back at her. "What's wrong?"

Chris brushed dirt from her breeches and coat, and tried to wipe the filth from her tall leather boots. They had taken to the back streets and dark alleys, in an attempt to avoid recognition as they made their way across the city. Glancing to the side, Chris pointed casually towards a building on the other side of the street, atop a small hill. It was a large house, its timber walls ridden with vines and tall bushes from a somewhat overgrown garden. "That is Tarnay Manor," Chris said, "Adeline's home. However…" She nodded at the manor's gates, where a coach drawn by a pair of tan geldings had just stopped. A small group of people clad in Guild livery were spilling out of the coach, escorted by several guardsmen who hopped down from their positions on the sides of the carriage.

Hugo instinctively leaned in against the mouth of the alley and glanced in the direction of the group as they began to pull the gates open. They were distant, but the street was sparsely populated and it seemed likely that they might be seen. "Are they from the Council?"

Chris stepped closer, and avoided looking at the street. "That is Head Councilor Rean's emblem on the side of the coach."

Hugo turned his head to look at her, and found that her face was uncomfortably close. He shrank away against the wall, but could not help but draw in her lavender scent. "Could…" He breathed deeply, and averted his eyes. "Could they have business with her?"

"I very much doubt it," Chris said, just as a fat man dressed in opulent clothes descended from the coach. Her face took on a grim look, and she clasped her hand around the hilt at her hip. "Let us go." She started across the street.

On a whim, Hugo stepped forward and slapped his hand against her bottom.

Chris squealed, and turned on him with a furious expression. Her cheeks were blooming with color and her sword was halfway from its sheath. "What are you doing?!" she hissed.

Hugo folded his arms over his chest and gave her a disapproving look. "Please tell me you've got a plan." So, she's not all ice. Spirits! Did I just slap her ass? It had seemed the best way to get her attention a moment ago, but with the moment past, he was not so sure.

She gaped, slid the sword back, and mimicked his stance. "Of course I do. We will subdue them."

Hugo gave her a baffled look. "Spirits! And you're saying I'm the barbarian? Break that nonsense; we're sneaking in." Without waiting for acceptance, he began to walk across the street, weaving his way through the citizens strolling across the cobblestone path.

"Wait just a minute," Chris called out behind him. A few quick steps, and then she grabbed his shoulder. "You can't just—"

Hugo turned to face her—

—Just in time to see a small girl run into the woman and stumble onto the ground. "Eek!" The girl puffed her cheeks and winced, rubbing at her scuffled knees.

Hugo gaped, and reached down to shield the girl. "Don't hurt her!" he said, pleading with Chris.

Chris looked puzzled. "What?" She knelt down and smiled at the girl. "Are you well, dear?"

The girl nodded nervously, burying her face in her skirts. She's got to be three or four years old, Hugo thought. He watched anxiously as Chris smiled at the girl, soothing her.

In a moment, the girl was on her way, and Hugo heaved a sigh of relief.

Chris glanced at the manor and the men approaching its doors, then looked to Hugo and sighed. She started across the street towards the side of the building. Hugo followed.

"What was that about?" she asked as they snuck through a tall hedge blooming with crimson flowers and into the back of the garden.

"I was told that Zexen children get their fingers cut off if they don't stay out of the adults' way," he said hotly.

Chris stared at him for about five seconds. Then she slapped him. Soundly.

Rubbing at his stinging cheek, Hugo glared at her as the ringing in his ears died down. "What was that for?"

"A number of things. Do not worry; you have earned it." She turned her eyes on the manor. "Now; how do we get inside?"

Hugo mastered his simmering rage. You've earned a lot more than a slap on the ass. For some reason, the thought embarrassed him.Reluctantly, he stopped staring at Chris' bottom and looked up at the vine-covered wall. A faint light burned in a second story window. There it was again: that odd sensation of wrongness that had been growing in him since they left Chris' home. It was plucking at his nerves, and calling to his mind. He pushed it down. "Easy," he said with a shrug. "We'll climb."

-Adeline-

Adeline's fingers tapped rhythmically against the hollow wooden desk as she studied the numbers in the ledger. Candlelight mixed with sunlight from the window to illuminate the writing. Negatives, she thought with a sigh. When did these numbers take hold of our society? Frustrated, she stood and pushed the chair against the desk to walk across the room to a shelf stacked with books. She stood on her toes to reach a leather-bound volume, but before her fingers could grasp it, Farren was by her side.

Without stretching, the tall man plucked the book from its position and deposited it in her hands. "There," he said. He was close, and the sheath of his sword bumped against her leg.

Feeling a bit flustered, she smiled warmly as she pulled the book to her chest. "Thank you." Turning to place it upon the nearby table, she sighed. "I don't know how we'll manage. Losing the Brass Mermaid was ill fortune, but with the creditors calling in their investment in the caravel…" She shook her head and turned to watch him, arms folded. He stood in silence, watching her. "But…" She drew a deep breath, and forced a smile, "We'll manage." Thoughtfully, she tapped at the book's cover before walking over to her desk. "I haven't come this far only to prove my detractors right," she said with a smirk. Rifling through the pages of the ledger, she focused her thoughts.

"I don't think the petition is a good idea," Farren said. He walked calmly over to where she stood.

Adeline turned to face him. "It's the only way. If the Customs Assembly won't act, the petition is the only way to remove the Council before it's too late."

"You have much to handle at once," he said. Too much, he seemed to say.

She sniffed playfully as she rolled her eyes at him. "The creditors will be as wet clay in my hands; we'll have a new ship in no time, and then we can start rebuilding my empire," she said with a giggle. Shielding her lips behind lacquered nails, she shook her head to clear the silly thoughts from her mind. "We'll manage it together, you and I. You've been a great help since…" She let her voice trail off, and sighed.

Farren hesitated, and then frowned. "I've tried to be a suitable replacement for Narven."

"You've been doing well," she said.

Slowly, he paced over to the door, and held his step on the threshold. "Is there any way I can convince you to abandon your attempt to remove the Council?"

Adeline looked at him in surprise. Why this sudden resistance? "No," she said, a bit more stubbornly than necessary.

Farren stared at her with a sad expression in his eyes, and then turned to face the stairs outside of the room. "It's time," he called out, so that his voice echoed throughout the old halls.

Adeline felt her blood chill in her veins, and she started towards him even as she heard footsteps crash up the stairs. "What have you done, Farren?" she asked, feeling short of breath.

Her assistant stepped aside to look at her with disappointment as a group of men scaled the stairs and ran into the room. Fanning out, guardsmen with their hands on sheathed swords paved the way for several men wearing Guild livery—Council Hall officials. Heavy breathing came from the stairs as the last man pulled himself up by the railing.

Dabbing sweat from his cheeks and forehead with a sodden rag, Gattyn stepped into the room. His eyes fixed on her. "Ah, there you are," he said, seemingly breathless from the effort of climbing the stairs.

Adeline's eyes widened in shock, and she glared at Gattyn, refusing to even look at her assistant. "What is the meaning of this? How dare you lead armed men into my house without my permission? Should I assume that this is a robbery?" She straightened her back imperiously as she spoke.

Gattyn shrank away slightly, running a hand through his thinning hair as he let out a slimy chuckle. "Oh, I'm afraid that this house belongs to Head Councilor Rean, now…"

Adeline froze, mouth gaping open. "What?"

"Here…" Gattyn muttered, pushing his way past the surprised guardsmen to hold out an unrolled parchment to her. She saw Rean's wax sigil affixed to the paper even before she snatched it from his hands to scan the content.

"As you can see, the Head Councilor has seen fit to purchase your letters of credit, and he's calling them in. All of them." Gattyn smiled, tapping his fingers against his straining belt as he seemed to swell with pride—and gloating.

Adeline felt sweat beading on her forehead as she read the document. He's right. I'm nowhere near solvent… With a few more days, I could have raised the money. How did he… An immense feeling of betrayal wrenched her stomach, and she bared her fangs in rage as she turned her eyes on Farren. "You sold me out," she hissed.

Her assistant flinched, but did not show any expression. "You're too proud. You must realize your limitations," he said. "Your 'empire' is crumbling. You were never fit to handle your father's business; Narven's tireless devotion is the only reason you're still in business. Do not force me to use my sword, Adeline." The last part was spoken in a low voice.

Adeline's heart quickened with fury, and she fought to control the feelings of hurt and betrayal. The document crunched in her fist. "It appears," she said, mastering the tone of her voice, "That you know nothing. I was a fool to employ an idiot."

Farren's face twisted in anger. Gattyn chuckled, walking over to sit down. Her favorite chair creaked under his weight, and he leaned back. "Now, now… There's no need to get emotional about this. Rean is not an unreasonable man, nor a cruel one. You're welcome to stay on as a maid, or whatever position of servitude you might prefer." She thought she saw a predatory glint in his eyes. "We wouldn't turn you out on the street, after all."

Farren walked up towards her. "I would not be so cold, Adeline. There's a much more comfortable position for you, if you will accept me," he said. He reached out to take her hand.

She pushed him away, and slapped him across the cheek with all of her might.

He tumbled backwards in shock, and fell onto his knees. The guards moved to restrain her, grasping her arms painfully. She tried to resist, but they were far too strong. "Release me," she hissed.

Silently, Farren stood, and sneered at her as he rubbed his cheek. She swallowed as he walked towards her with a dark expression, and braced herself.

The blow caused the world to spin around her.

"Enough!" Gattyn said. "As I said," he intoned, "The Head Councilor is not a cruel man. Besides, I am sure she will see reason, in time. Women are sensible creatures, once their delusions are dealt with." Through the haze of her spinning vision, she saw his lips spread in a patronizing smile.

Farren snorted as he walked away from her. His hand grasped at the hilt of his sword.

Adeline fought the tears, and tried to still the thunder in her head.

She heard a noise from the window, and then a firm voice, "Release her."

She turned her head, and gasped.

-Chris-

"Christina!" Adeline breathed.

Chris took in the sight before her with a building anger, and she channeled it into a cold focus. Having boosted her into the room, Hugo leapt through the window just as a symphony of sliding steel filled the room as all involved drew their weapons.

"Who are you?" a tall man demanded. A crimson handprint blossomed on his cheek; a blow far more powerful than that which Chris had given to Hugo a minute ago.

Chris glanced at Hugo, and found that his face was locked in a grim expression as he unlimbered his twin knives and held them out before him. The guardsmen were encircling the two of them. "Just a couple of cat burglars," she said icily.

The fat man in the chair scoffed, watching them with a mixture of outrage and astonishment. "Seize them!"

The tall man advanced on Chris. "I should warn you," he said with a confident smile, "I'm quite the swordsman."

Hugo barked a laugh, and the sound spurred Chris' own confidence. She rolled the hilt of her blade and smiled innocently. "Really? Perhaps I will learn something."

Adeline laughed, but the sound was broken by a burst of coughs. "You've met your match, Farren," she said with scorn in her voice. The man—Farren—glanced momentarily at Adeline.

"He's all yours," Hugo said, passing behind Chris. She heard a crash as something was hurled towards the guardsmen, but she fixed her eyes on the swordsman who circled her, looking for an opening. He clearly struggled for the same focus, and the smirk ran away from his lips. He began to look nervous.

Crashes and shouts rang out behind her. She ignored them. Hugo's grunts punctuated the clang of blades. Farren glanced to the side.

Chris lunged and thrust her blade forward. Farren dodged at the last moment, and his sword slammed down on hers. Their weapons met with a clang. She lowered her blade and slashed across his stomach. He hissed as the edge drew blood, and he stumbled back. Clutching at his shallow wound, he pulled his sword up to parry. Her attack, aimed at his throat, met steel instead.

Chris eased up, and allowed him to scramble back against the wall. She snorted. "Quite the swordsman? Who was your teacher?" she asked. Someone screamed behind her as a piece of furniture broke.

Farren grimaced, but managed a half-hearted look of defiance. "Master Majon."

Chris shrugged. "I have never heard of such a 'master.' You had best surrender before I take your head off." She flicked her blade to the side, whipping blood onto the floorboards.

"Let's get out of here!" one of the guardsmen shouted, and she heard a string of curses and murmurs from the doorway as several men tried to leave the room all at once.

The sleeve of Farren's coat came away covered with blood as he stood up straight, clutching his wound with his free hand. "I'm not done yet," he breathed.

Chris snorted. She took up a defensive pose, and waited.

He lunged, and feigned an attack. Seeing the ruse, she took a step forward. Farren raised his arm to deliver a slash at her throat.

He was too close. Stepping in, she reversed her grip and slammed the pommel against his nose. His sword clattered against the floor. Groaning with pain, he stumbled back and fell on his bottom, displacing a richly embroidered rug. A mighty crash came from behind.

Chris walked over and placed her sword at his throat as he sat up. "Surrender," she said.

"Who…" he mumbled, "Who was your teacher?"

"Sir Galahad," she said.

Farren blinked, and his eyes went wide as realization dawned on him. "You're… You're the Silver Maiden!" he exclaimed.

Hugo appeared from behind him with a grunt. "I don't think she likes that name," he said. In a single motion, he reached down and landed a stunning blow against the back of the man's neck.

Chris met Hugo's eyes. The boy's clothes were torn and ruffled, his hair was a mess, and he had several cuts and scrapes on his cheek and shoulders. She turned to see a room in chaos; furniture upended or broken into pieces, with an overturned cabinet spilling a host of small objects across the floor. Adeline was standing wide-eyed, chest heaving, over an unconscious fat man collapsed onto the floor over the scattered pieces of a broken chair.

"Christina, is it really you…?" Adeline breathed.

Chris nodded. "We need to talk," she said, forcing a smile. "But first I will need to stop the…"

Hugo was already out the window, leaping down into the garden. Chris grimaced, and ran over to the opening. Hugo looked up at her from the flagstone walk below, beckoning for her to leap. This is insane, she thought. How could I trust him?

But she did. Adeline gasped behind her as she leapt through the window, and the sensation of falling sent a frisson of fearful excitement through her body. She felt something tug at her, and saw a pale green light envelop Hugo as he raised his hand. The winds enveloped her, and slowed her fall. She fell straight into his arms.

Swallowing, Chris looked up at his eyes. A moment passed, and then she found her feet as his arms left her back. She glanced up to see Adeline leaning out of the window, but there was no time to speak. She heard horses whinny from around the corner. She ran.

The courtyard was in chaos as onlookers stopped what they were doing to watch the spectacle. Several of the Council officials were pushing at each other to enter the coach, while a guardsman—who must have remained outside—climbed into the driver's seat. He was flicking the reins even before the door closed on his passengers, and the horses reared into motion.

Chris felt more than saw Hugo pass her. She was running full bore, but he was quicker. He leapt over a low hedge and stumbled back on his feet and onto the street. Intercepting the horses, he began to shout and wave his arms. Spooked, the animals reared and threw the coach off course, halting it for a moment. Chris took the opportunity.

Sprinting, she leapt against the coach and grabbed a handrail on its side. Holding tightly, she was jerked around as the carriage resumed its course. Her head slammed into the coach door before she caught her balance, and her head rang with the pain.

Hugo shouted, and she saw him thrown aside. The driver beckoned the horses with his voice as he slapped the reins against their hides again and again, setting a reckless pace through the streets. Chris turned and reached out her arm towards Hugo. He scrambled to his feet, and ran to her. He threw out his arm, and their hands passed inches from each other.

Then the coach was past. Chris' eyes widened, and she gritted her teeth. He sprinted in the coach's wake, but its speed was jarring, sending Chris bobbing uncomfortably as it rushed across cobblestones.

Suddenly, the coach swerved, and citizens scrambled out of its way as the side of the carriage raced up against a tavern's wall. Chris rolled to the side and ducked, just in time to see a shingle pass over her head. Frustrated, she held onto the handrail and cursed.

Hugo had given her a chance. She could not squander it.

-Hugo-

As soon as the coach turned in on the side street, Hugo ran for the nearest alley. Leaping and climbing across boxes stacked against the wall, he reached for a wooden drainage and activated his Wind Rune. Letting the currents lift him, he was boosted within reach of the building's edge and grabbed hold. Within moments, he was on the roof, and running across unsure clay tiles.

Hugo stayed on the edge, using the magic of his Wind Rune to guard against a fall as he tried to plot the course of the coach's wild ride through the streets of Vinay. It left confusion and agitation in its wake, as merchants' stalls were knocked over and people scrambled to avoid bodily harm. I have to find a place where I can stop it, he thought. Otherwise, Chris will… He abandoned the train of thought.

Just as he leapt from one roof to another, Hugo stopped. A stray tile loosened from its position and slid down the roof, cracking against the street below. Something felt awry. It was the same sense of wrongness that he had noticed before… but it was stronger, now. In a flash, Hugo realized what it was.

The Spirits! He clambered onto the building's apex and looked around. There's a disturbance among the spirits in Vinay… It's so obvious, now… I guess it's because I've grown used to how muted their voices are in the city. Now, they're vibrant… He scanned the rooftop scenery, and his eyes fell on... something scaly.

Scrambling down the side of the roof, Hugo made his way across several buildings before he hopped onto a low house with a flat roof. Right upon the roof, a saraak was splayed out, wagging its tail lazily as the sunlight basked upon him. Its scales were caked with mud and sheathed in grime, but the figure was unmistakable. A dead body was sprawled out unnaturally at its side.

The Clansman roused as Hugo approached, and raised a broad-bladed knife the size of a short sword. Its eyes fixed on him, but it hesitated, taking in his scent.

Hugo took his eyes from the corpse and greeted the saraak with a string of friendly gestures.

"You're a Clansman!" the lizard hissed.

"I am Hugo, son of Chief Lucia of the Karaya."

The saraak's eyes widened in recognition, and he lowered his weapon. "I accept you. What does the Karayan Chief's son do in the lion's den?" The saraak knelt down on its haunches and watched him curiously.

Hugo breathed a sigh of relief. "I accept you," he replied, and walked up closer to bow politely. "I came… to find answers." The saraak cocked its wedge-shaped head and flicked its tongue about its head. "What is your name?" Hugo asked.

"I have no name."

It took only a moment for Hugo to understand. He drew breath sharply. "You're an Avenger…!"

The Avenger swept its tail across the tiles in answer. The scales made a clattering tune against the clay.

Hugo squatted down and folded his arms over his knees. "Why have you foresworn your name? Who have you come for?"

The Avenger bobbed his head from side to side, and seemed to gauge Hugo's intentions. "I have come to avenge Chief Zepon. I will kill the Zexen Council, and the She-Devil assassin."

"The Silver Maiden," Hugo breathed.

The Avenger swept his tail across the tiles. He was leaner than the average saraak warrior, but if he had been chosen for this task, Hugo knew that he was no less deadly. An Avenger might rely on stealth to reach his target, but he does not need stealth to make the kill. Looking at his clothes, the Avenger sneered. Hugo caught the gesture, and shrugged. "It's necessary. I'm still wearing my warrior bracelets," he said, rolling up his sleeves to show them.

The Avenger rose from its sitting position and leaned forward, balancing on its hands. "The night that follows this night, I will strike."

Hugo licked his lips, and nodded slowly. This changes everything. He forced his mind to think faster, but could not reconcile the desires in his head. Tilting his head to the side, he breathed deeply and spoke, "Are you alone?"

The tail swept the other way. "I was alone," the Avenger said. "Now you are with me. You will help me avenge Chief Zepon. I accept you."

Hugo's head swam as he looked deep into the reptilian eyes of the saraak Avenger. He will not hear reason. If I tell him what I've been doing, he'll probably cut me down here and now. I don't believe that Chris killed Chief Zepon, but… I have no proof. If Chris is killed, or even just the Council, it will plunge the Clans into full war with Zexen. There will be no turning back. He frowned. But how could I betray my people?

"Do I have your cooperation?" the Avenger asked.

-Borus-

Borus rose in his saddle as he galloped through the gates, not even stopping to return the confused guardsmen's salute. His heart raced, and his mind reeled, but he had to reach the Council as quickly as possible to relay the news. He struggled to comprehend the fact that the Captain was dead. Slain by the barbarians, he though vehemently. He cursed them silently, and fanned the flame of vengeance that had been building in his heart since her death. I will cut them down, to the last woman and child. Ours shall be the last generation to suffer at the hands of the barbarians; I swear it!

He made his stallion swerve onto a broad street, and made for the center square. Suddenly, a coach raced out from a side street, led at a frightening pace by a pair of horses. People threw themselves out of the way as the carriage swerved from side to side. Startled, Borus motioned his stallion to the side of the street and watched in annoyance. The side of the coach was emblazoned with the sigil of Head Councilor Rean. Of course, he thought irritably. That arrogant bastard.

Suddenly, Borus caught sight of a figure clinging to the coach's side. A woman. She was holding on for all she was worth, but the driver's careless urgency flung her to and fro, even as the door opened and shut, as though someone inside tried to slam her with it.

Uttering a curse, Borus spurred his steed into motion and moved to intercept the coach. He drew his sword and called out to the driver. The man saw him, and shock spread on his face. He slapped his reins against the horses and ushered them to increase their speed.

Borus glanced at the woman as she held on for dear life. There was something familiar about her. Roaring, he motioned his stallion closer to the coach and slashed the reins on the rightmost horse.

The driver screamed as he lost control of the coach. It swerved, sliding sideways and listing precariously. Within moments, the carriage toppled and slammed its side onto the cobblestone street. Screams sounded from inside the wagon as the driver was tossed off by the impact, hitting the ground with a sickening thud and rolling over to lie motionless on the cobblestones.

Borus leapt from his horse and ran over to the coach even as dozens of citizens gathered in a wide circle around the crash site. The horse he had cut loose was already off in the distance, but the remaining gelding was chafing against its reins, unable to move with the coach behind it dragging against the ground.

He heard groans from inside the wagon, but the door remained closed. From behind the coach, the woman stumbled to her feet, wiping stray tresses of hair from her face. Disoriented, she looked up, and met his eyes.

Borus' eyes widened with shock. "C-Captain?" he breathed.

The Captain looked startled, and quickly ran over to him. "Quiet," she said. "Do not say my name, or hint at my identity."

Numb, Borus nodded enthusiastically. It is her! Oh, thank you, sweet Goddess! His mind was so flooded with relief that he barely thought to question her presence, much less her orders. "You… You died…?" he managed.

"Where?" she demanded.

"Iksay."

The Captain nodded. "I see." Though blemished with bruises and cuts, her face was radiant, and thoroughly beautiful. Borus could not help but let his face split in a grin as he stared at her. She was frowning, and watched the coach for any signs of motion. "I do not have much time, then," she said.

"What do you mean, milady?"

She shook her head. "Pretend you are tending to me as the victim of a crime. Now, listen very carefully."

By the time the Captain had finished her blunt story, Borus' elation had split into a dozen conflicting emotions. The gladness remained, but it was tempered by a multitude of dark thoughts that caused his blood to boil.

So distraught was he that he did not notice the man who extricated himself from the surrounding throng and ran towards the Council Hall.

-Jena-

Jena walked with hurried steps through the dungeons beneath the Council Hall. She paid little mind to the guardsmen and the voices and sounds of the cell block as she passed through corridors and turned corners on her dogged path towards Alron's cell. Now that the truth was one step closer, she felt a great excitement building in her chest. You thought you could make me a worthy adversary, Silver Maiden? She allowed herself a smug smile. I've swallowed little girls like you whole. You'll be no different. No one dupes me, she vowed. She hurried down a circling stairwell, keeping her eyes on her feet as they fell on the narrow steps.

"Halt, lady," a gruff voice said from below. A soldier stood in her way, and his expressionless eyes were fixed on her.

She halted, and felt a steady drip from the stones above soak the fabric on her shoulder. "Is there a problem, guardsman?"

"Not really, lady. I just need to ask you a few questions before you enter this here cell block."

Sighing inwardly, Jena nodded. It was but a temporary hindrance. With Gattyn's seal of approval, she could come and go as she pleased. This guardsman could never stop her.

-Alron-

Hairline fractures ran along the bricks of the dungeon ceiling, spreading out in elaborate and seemingly random patterns across the ancient stone. Shut away from the world in his solitary cell, Alron had mapped them all. There was no such thing as a random pattern. He could see the logic, the paradigm to the fractures, and he knew what their message was. It mirrored his thoughts.

Life is not fair.

The savage beating that the Captain had subjected him to had left its marks, not least in the form of a broken nose bent out of shape and a clobbered, bruised and battered face. His lungs strained against aching bones, making each breath an agonizing thing. To be so aware of one's breathing, Alron thought, is an equal share of the pain. At the same time, his cheeks throbbed with hurt.

I think that wench might've broken my damn jaw. Rolling over on the rigid cot, he abandoned his study of the ceiling and tried to find a position in which the pain subsided. It eluded him. Groaning to himself, he banged his fist against the wooden surface. "This isn't fair," he mumbled, though he knew that no one would hear. No one cares, more likely. That little twit's going to ruin Zexen. If she turns the Harmonians aside for the damn barbarians… She'll make us all slaves to those blue-eyed bastards, and for what? Rutting misguided notions of honor. What honor does she have left, anyway? She's only in this position because she's got the face of a whore, and probably more talents where that came from. The so-called Mighty Knights, playing at heroism with no eyes for reality. They're worse than fools! They couldn't care less if Zexen burned along with all of its people, as long as they have their rutting honor intact.

Sighing, Alron rolled onto his back and blinked, peering at the ceiling and its fractures through heavy eyelids. Stroking his aching cheek, he mumbled, "Good with the fists, though…"

The rustle of iron reached his ears as a key was placed in the lock. There was a metallic slam, and then a persistent creaking as the door was pulled open.

Sitting up on his cot, Alron met the eyes of the man who stepped into the room, and raised his eyebrows. "I didn't expect you."

The man shrugged. His face was drawn, and dispassionate. "Here's your sword," he said, tossing the sheathed weapon towards him.

Alron eagerly grabbed the scabbard and fumbled with it as he rose. The blade slipped three inches from its sheath and tapped against the floor before he got it under control. Heart racing, Alron grinned—and found that it hurt his cheeks. Pain enforces misery.

"Well, thanks," he said, grasping the scabbard and caressing the hilt. The Crown Rune was undamaged.

The man scowled. "You have your orders. You must leave Vinay at once, without any procrastination. Get out."

Stepping from the bed, Alron pushed past him and left through the open door. The sensation of freedom was exhilarating. In the corridor, Alron held his head high.

Strutting down the hall, he pretended that his nose was not broken.

-Jena-

Jena pushed her frustration aside as she strode through the dim and all but abandoned cell block. The guard had detained her for several minutes for no good reason, and his questions had grown more and more asinine each time his mouth opened. Showing him Gattyn's document had done little good, as the guard seemed incapable of even basic literacy. She drew a deep breath, and calmed down. There's no harm done; just a small delay.

She reached the cell door, and fumbled for the key deposited in her coat pocket. Producing it, she quickly unlocked the door and pushed it open. I can't wait to see the look on his face, she thought as her lips curled into a triumphant smile. She stepped inside.

The cell was empty. Baffled, Jena ran in a circle around the room, looking beneath the crude bed and behind the door. Where is he? Eventually, she realized that she would not find him here.

Before long, Jena was cursing like a landlocked sailor.

Author's Notes:

The "Avenger" is a saraak assassin. The honor code of the saraak forbids the killing of non-combatants, but there is an exception: a saraak warrior can foreswear his name and identity as a Clansman, freeing him to take revenge where the honor code prevents it. Only after a thorough cleansing can the Avenger be admitted back to the Clan, as though reborn among them.

The next chapter will be up in a week.

Next Chapter:

The battle of minds comes to a head as Chris' plans begin to reach fruition. However, Jena's devious schemes threaten to end the masquerade one step short of victory! Must Chris steel her heart and surrender her mercy to defeat a greater evil? Can Hugo stand up for his beliefs, even if it means betraying his people? Find out as the story arc comes to a conclusion, next time, in Blazing Waves, Burning Rain!