He awoke in a shock; his heart was beating in his ears and sweat trailed down his neck. He tossed the cover off of him; the soft warmth now suffocating.

His mind was abuzz as he pulled himself onto his feet. The floor was shifting, yet he managed to stable himself.

Right, now he remembered; he was on a ship. He had been at sea for two weeks now.

As his gloved hand reached for a lantern and lit it, illuminating the small room he was standing in, he began to remember. He was aboard the Stiletto; the ship was on its way to Drakemaw, the largest port in Svartland. His vision began to clear in the torchlight, his ears stopped ringing, and his mouth was dry.

Jango wiped the sweat from his brow as he gathered his senses and settled his mind. He glanced out the window of his cabin and could see the ship was anchored in the middle of the sea; he was sure he could see the distant port of Drakemaw under a gloomy, cloudy sky. Was he still asleep and dreaming or were they truly not going anywhere?

"What the hell...?" Jango mumbled to himself as he slipped into his boots and began to put on his sword belts. As he started to gather his gear, he stole a glance of himself in an old mirror, catching himself as lightning flashed. Great, a storm was coming and he could get a good look at himself; a main of curly black hair that was caked with salt. Chestnut skin, with noticeable bags under his eyes. One green eye that looked dull, the other a milky, silver-ish color that was scared and was mostly blind.

"You look like shit." Jango groaned as he shook his head. The life of an adventurer wasn't easy, but he definitely looked like he had walked through seven levels of hell over the last two weeks on this ship. An orange mantle hung over his shoulders, covering a green tunic that concealed a blue wool shirt. He had dark-brown trousers and black boots. A pair of white gloves covered his hands.

With rapiers at his hips and lantern in hand, he pushed himself out of his quarters and through the lower deck of the shadowy halls of the ship. A low chortle escaped the back of his throat; not that anything was humorous about what was happening, but the nervous tick couldn't help but rear its ugly head at an inopportune times.

"Who's there?! Identify yourself?!"

The shout came from the dark. Jango was sure he could see the glimmering of a blade from the darkness, but he recognized the voice.

"Oi! Sterling, it's me." Jango raised his lantern high, capturing the older man, a little more than twice his own age, in the light. The grizzled man turned in the dark as the two looked each other in the eye. He was old enough to be Jango's father, if not a bit older. Balding, but sharp gray eyes looked Jango over and slowly put away his shortsword.

"Sorry about that."

"It's fine, it's fine." Jango waved him off. "What's the report? Why have we stopped?"

Slowly, Sterling's face contorted from relief to fury. "It's Captain Benson; him and his crew have got some kind of madness." Sterling lightly tapped his head, "says they can't dock at the port."

Jango cocked an eyebrow at the response. "What does he mean 'can't dock'? Like, they physically can't?"

"Nah; says his men saw something as the storm rolled in." Sterling continued, "something eerie. Something that has them all spooked." He watched Jango roll his eyes in the lantern light. "Yeah, I hear ya, lad, but that's what the Captain said, he did. And the men are getting antsy."

Just then, the heavy sound of footsteps began to echo from the upper deck as thunder began to boom and the shake continued to rattle and creek.

"Oh, looks like 'antsy' was a poor choice of words." Sterling shook his head.

"Come on, let's go." Jango said with a grunt, "the good captain might still be reasonable yet."

"If not, then he best remember that the mercenaries we hired have a job to do and want their money." Sterling let out a low chortle from the back of his throat. His grim laugh brought another chuckle out of Jango as the two started to make their way up the steps.

Once they got onto the deck, the wind was becoming fierce and the rain was falling hard. It was as if spirits of wind and water were hellbent on battering the Stiletto for all she was worth. Meanwhile, Jango caught sight of the two leaders in a heated discussion. Both were shouting at the top of their lungs, trying to talk over each other and the howling winds and booming thunder.

One was the Half-Elf Mercenary Leader, Hawk Turner. The pristine skin of his High-Elf heritage seemed to glimmer unnaturally in the dreary weather, almost like a beacon. It was contrast with the heavy gray tunics his company, The Mad Geese, all wore. He had his hand resting on the handle of an ornate rapier with a rapier already in his hand.

The other, Captain Ashford Benson, was the towering 6'8 captain of the Stiletto. Whether his name was Ashford because of the long mess of gray hair or if it was just ironic, nobody knew. Nonetheless, the captain was standing in a mahogany coat that somehow managed to obscure his frame into a giant, red brick with black boots. Despite his figure, his shouting didn't sound angry, but frantic; afraid.

Jango brought his fingers to his mouth and released an ear-piercing whistle. Its loud noise echoed across the ship, bringing attention to not only the shouting men, but also the collection of crews that were gathered around their respective commanders. But once Jango made his presence known, he started to march towards the two of them.

"Sorry to come between your lover's spat," Jango snickered as he placed his lantern onto his belt, "but can someone please explain to me why we're not sailing to port right now?"

"W-well, I-"

Before Benson could speak, it was Hawk who took control of the conversation. "I was just getting to the bottom of that, actually. Cause apparently the good captain here is seeing ghosts." He then sneered at Jango, "and I'm not staying on this boat longer than I have to, Sir..."

"Calm yourself, Hawk," Jango chuckled, "you'll get your pay - and off this ship. But hold your blade for a few moments more." His words placated the mercenary leader for the moment as he put away his dagger. Then, Jango turned to face the towering Captain. He had taken the brief moment to gather his thoughts and steady his breathing and looked a bit less frazzled when Jango looked him over. There was, however, no denying the distinct twitching of his eyes and his struggling to keep his teeth from chattering. The rain could only do but so much to hide the bullets he was sweating.

"Captain?" Jango said, "your thoughts?"

Benson cleared his throat and forced himself to speak. "You must understand Mr. Fox, I'm not doing this to be malicious or anything." Lightning flashed and thunder cracked again, making the large man tremble, but he forced himself to keep speaking. "But my men saw something at the port; something unnatural."

"Oh for the Gods' sake..." Hawk grumbled, but Jango raised a hand. He could feel Hawk's frustration; Jango was growing more agitated by the second, but he forced himself to remain composed.

"What did they see?"

"Well, that's the thing; we're not entirely sure." Benson cleared his throat, "the man who saw it clearly, Christian, he was found frothing at the mouth and twitching. It was like he went mad by the mere sight of what he saw. And everyone else who caught a glimpse have been locked in their quarters, mumbling to themselves."

Jango let out another small chuckle as he said, "well, Captain, is there something there now?"

"I...I don't know." Captain Benson admitted, "but it could return by the time we reach the port. We can't just sale towards danger so brazenly."

"Aren't you lot sailors?!" Sterling barked, "you sale towards danger for a living and you're jumping at shadows?!"

"What we saw wasn't normal, I tell ya! As Captain of the Stiletto, I cannot allow this ship to make it to Drakemaw!"

Jango let out a low chuckle as he put a hand to his chin in deep thought. On the one hand, he could see the captain was frazzled; sailors were a superstitious lot, but he could understand that something was wrong. He did not doubt the idea that something beyond the natural world was afoot; he had experience with a few horrors that had left scars on his body and mind. Many of which he was unprepared for and his only option was to run and live another day. The un-glamorous life of a sellword. So perhaps there was something to this story.

On the other hand, Jango did not have the time or patience...

Before another word could be said, however, the ship began to rattle, with a fury that none of the men had felt before. The storm is getting worse - that's what they all thought. But then, Jango saw something in the corner of his eye; a claw - more like a bloated, webbed hand - grabbed the railing of the deck. Soon, others started to turn to look and saw it started to climb over the railing.

Their bodies were bulbous, yet somehow malnourished. Their skin gave a silvery, dull gleam with flat scales and bulbous eyes looking over them. Somehow leering and prepared to strike, yet somehow vacant and lifeless. It resembled a fish forced to conform into the body of a man.

"What in the eight circles..." Sterling mumbled, but before he could continue his thought, another grabbed the railing. And another.

"Captain! We're being boarded!" A sailor shouted. Jango and Sterling shared a look before Jango drew his rapier and Sterling a shortsword. The 'Man-Fish' were glaring and snarling as they slowly tried to circle around the Stiletto crew and passengers.

Hawk threw his dagger into the heart of a Man-Fish. It gave a desperate gurgle as blood spilled from his plump lips before it fell over onto the deck, dead. "Men! Defend the ship!" Hawk drew his rapier with his now free hand and darted towards the collection of Man-Fish. His men followed, drawing a mix of swords, axes, and even clubs into the fray of combat.

The throws of combat came fast was a blur, a whirlwind of blades and blood as Jango, Sterling, and Hawk's collection of mercenaries worked to push the school of Man-Fish back to the ocean from once they came. They were mostly unarmed, all trying to flail, bite and grab with his bony fingers.

"Where are they coming from?!" Sterling shouted, bashing the butt of his blade against the snout of a Man-Fish before a sharp knee to the chest to knock the air out of him. He dropped like a stone, but another quickly came running and even trampled over his fallen comrade to try and bite at him.

"I don't know. Hell, I'd think!" Hawk barked back, expertly piercing a Man-Fish in his chest and piercing his heart. He swiftly pulled out the blade and elbowed another Man-Fish from behind before dragging another dagger and plunging it into his stomach. Blood was falling onto the deck of the Stiletto, washed away with raging sea salt and rain from above.

And amongst the screaming of Man-Fish and mercenaries, the crew started to scream and cry, backing away from the mad Man-Fish as they tried to grab at the Stiletto crew. They were screaming and crying, begging for the monstrous fish to leave them be. They all held cutlasses, but they seemed to have forgotten this fact as many of them were being grabbed and dragged away.

"Please! Help!" One Sailor shouted as they were dragged off of the railing by a Man-Fish. A final splash snuffed out his screaming.

"Don't let them take me! I have a wife and two kids!" Another shouted as two more forced him overboard and jumped after him.

The men circled their captain, holding their swords and desperately swinging them. They were hardly doing anything more than acting as a deterrent to keep the Man-Fish from grabbing them, weakly sobbing and whining. Some of them were praying for a miracle, pleading for a devil or god to come - for anyone to save them.

Amidst the chaos, Jango reached under his mantle and drew a pendant from beneath; it looked like a silver dragon claw on a chain, clutching a round, green stone.

"Sing sweet lullabies, Pooka; grant them deep dreams of the fairy country~"

His voice was melodic, more so singing than talking. As he spoke, he held his sword defensively. All the while, a small, green ball of light began to surround Jango. It shimmered lightly before Jango directed his sword to a collection of Man-Fish like a concert conductor.

"Sleep."

Suddenly, the ball of light erupted into a wave of that light. It was a soft glow that overcame the Man-Fish as they dashed at the men of the Stiletto. Their eyes began to grow heavy, their limbs grow numb and limp.

THUD!

The collection of them fell onto the floor; while not the entire school that was attacking, but the sailors were at least safe for the moment. Their knees trembled and their eyes watery.

But it was their captain who was in the worst shape. Not broken in body, but in mind; he was a gibbering mess. No longer was he screaming or crying, but he was mumbling incoherently. He wasn't speaking Common; he was speaking in some language that Jango couldn't comprehend. All he knew was that the Captain of the Stiletto was gone - gone somewhere neither Jango nor his crew could follow.

"If you can't fight, then the least you could do is pull the anchor and unfurl the sails." Jango said with a smirk on his face; letting his necklace dangle and hang around his neck.

One of the sniveling sailors started, "b-but, our Captain ordered us-"

"Your Captain has fallen under the weight of his own mind." Jango quickly cut off, gesturing the towering man who seemed to not know where he was or the fact some of his men were being dragged to the sea below. "As of now, he's unfit for command. So, you lot can either sail towards land and the promise of warmth and safety, or..."

Jango then gestured with his sword to the thinning horde of Man-Fish, with a few even starting to climb back onto the deck after tossing their fellow sailors to the deep below. He released a morbid chuckle as he watched the color in the sailor's face begin to drain.

With the weight of the reality now properly re-established, the sailors started to get to work to try and get the ship sailing to land again. Jango nodded, turning back to the battle at hand. Thankfully, The Mad Geese had done the bulk of the fighting and had cut the majority of the Man-Fish. As he prepared his blade and readied to get back into the fight, something caught his eye; one of the Man-Fish on the floor of the ship.

His webbed hand's nail was tracing a shape into the ship. Jango could see his lips move, hushed whispers escaping his mouth. It had a deep gash and was bleeding profusely onto the floor, but it was alive.

And casting a spell.

"Shit!" Jango pulled a dagger from under his cape and prepared to throw it at the monster. But before it could leave his gloved hand, the entire ship began to rumble with the booming thunder. Jango lost his balance and fell onto his side; this shaking was something unreal. It was beyond the shaking of a storm. Before Jango could swear again, he watched something rise from the water, almost like a monolith. A monolith made of rubber and covered in hooked suckers.

"Fulmedunilki! Fulmedunilki!"

The Man-Fish chanted, almost stopping in place as they watched the tentacle rise from the water. The collection of warriors stopped slaughtering the fish-like monsters and turned to watch the tentacle, just in time to watch it crash down into the wooden ship and almost split it in half!

"What's happening?!" A mercenary shouted.

"It's a Kraken! A Kraken!" A sailor wailed!

Jango watched as the ship fell apart around him, more tentacles ripping and tearing it apart as the wind whipped at him. He frantically looked around with his good eye, watching as men fell into the sea below - if they were lucky. Some of them were deeply cut and disfigured, others were impaled by falling bits of sharpened wood.

As the two halves of the Stiletto began to capsize and sink, Jango desperately clung onto his sword. Thinking quickly, he took his dagger and tried to pierce the planks below him to form a hand hold.

THUNK!

His blade sunk into the sopping wet wood as he hung on for dear life. Frantically, he looked around; men and Man-Fish alike were falling to the deep into the Kraken waiting below. Sailor, mercenary, fish-like monster; didn't matter. They were all dragged down by the Kraken's tentacles. He watched Captain Benson, a gibbering mass of flesh more so than a man, splash into the water as it began to run scarlet.

"Help me!"

Jango then spotted Sterling, clinging to the boat for dear life. All the while, Man-Fish were gripping at the man's body. Sterling desperately tried to kick them off or swat them away, but it was a failing battle. His clothes ran red as the monsters bit into his flesh with hungry ship.

"Sterling, hang on!"

Releasing his dagger, Jango dropped like a stone and towards the man. As he did, he tightly clutched the necklace around his neck for a moment. He was grinning ear to ear, but Jango was feeling anything but joy.

"O Sylph among the breeze; guide me down with gentle winds~"

As Jango sang another verse, a trio of yellow lights started to swirl around him. They briefly took the shape of pixies as winds whipped around him.

"Feather Fall!"

Once Jango was close, two fairies began to swirl around him and create a small vortex of winds while another Sylph did the same around Sterling. Jango then took his rapier and swiftly stabbed a Man-Fish in the eye. It screamed and hissed in agony before releasing Sterling and falling to the deep.

Sterling felt relief come over him as he lost his grip, but instead of dropping like a rock, he was falling slowly. Both him and Jango were.

"You're a Godsend, Jango!"

"Don't thank me yet!" Jango cackled, "come on, we gotta get out of here."

"What of the ship?! Or Hawk?!"

"I don't see him! And the ship is beyond lost!"

Just as the words left his voice, something swung right into the both of them; a large tentacle. A flash of rubber magenta of blue came before their eyes as the two were batted from the air like flies.

[As I fell out of the sky, so too did I from consciousness. I slipped into the salty deep, my lungs filling with the ungodly drink. I don't even think that Kraken saw either of us; it was just flailing about. We were seemingly insignificant. All it cared, for one reason or another, was the ship.

Slowly, my mind gave way. My body limp, then cold. Slowly, as I began to surrender to my fate, I began to question everything. Why was I out here, sailing to this ungodly land of Svartland? I was no sailor; neither a merchant or pirate. And as I continued to sink below the waves, my mind began to drift.

I couldn't tell you if one's life flashed before their eyes when they feel death around the corner, but I could remember two weeks ago...]

Two Weeks Prior...

Silfurland - Stonewell Estate

"In the blue moonlight, I close my eyes...

To hear the voice from above...

In my dream, I say my prayers...

Wishing my faith will reach and protect you...

A figure in the wind..."

Jango Fox walked his way down the stone pathway through the woods. He loved the small chill of the late winter breeze; Spring was coming. It was taking its sweet time, but the final chills of winter was always delightful - at least, Jango felt so. He'd miss the cold, but would be happy to watch the trees and plants come back to life.

[The road to Stonewell Manor was familiar to ; these ancient halls were once my home. A long 13 years ago, this was once known as Fox Manor. I never thought I'd see my ancestral home as a sellsword. In fact, I thought I'd never see it again - I sure as hell wouldn't mind. But fate is a funny thing.]

He walked this familiar roar with a pep in his step and song in his heart. He strummed his lyre as his voice echoed through the redwood trees. However, as he continued to sing his song, he was stopped by two men - both holding spears and both blocking the way to the rusting gate.

"What? Not a fan?" Jango asked as he let out a small chuckle. "I take requests for a Silver Piece."

"Begone, bard." One of the guards sneered, adorned in heavy plate. "This isn't the place for beggars. This is the manor of Lord Oswald Stonewell."

"Yes, I'm well aware." Jango said as he dug under his cape and pulled out a piece of folded paper. "I was given this letter by your master. With his seal, I believe." He lightly flicked his wrists and showed the written letter - and, more importantly, the stamp of a buck with a crown of clovers.

Jango smirked, watching as the guard that was sneering flinched and pulled his head back.

"S-sorry, sorry." He said as Jango watched the guards hurry to open the gate. "Please don't tell Master Stonewell we held you up."

"Fellas, fellas," Jango snickered as he started to put his harp on his hip. "I get it. You're just doing you job." He gave a wink with his scarred eye, "your Master doesn't have to know a thing."

"Th-thank you."

With a roll of his eyes and a small laugh out of his throat, Jango walked past the guards and onto the estate grounds properly; he didn't truly blame the two of them. He was a vagabond & sellsword; his money was tainted with blood.

"When my father lived here, I'd have appreciated such security." Jango mumbled to himself as he looked around the outside garden. The old fountain was spilling water continuously and the trickle was welcomed to his ears.

It was almost as he remembered it, but not quite. The fountain was caked with grime, a sign of neglect. The grass was wild and patchy, and the various plants that grew out here, from beautiful flowers to herbs to vegetables were gone.

"The only thing growing in this garden is grass..." Jango laughed to himself, though he couldn't help but groan at his own joke. As he pocketed the sealed letter and glanced around, something else graced his ears; the mumbling and grumbling of various nobelmen and women, all talking among themselves.

Who they were, Jango didn't know, nor did he care. He knew what they were, however; vultures. The only thing he recognized from his childhood as a nobleman's son. They hovered around the manor, preening and whispering among themselves. Their presence meant one of two things; Lord Stonewell was in poor health, physically or mentally, or something was greatly amiss.

A genuine laugh escaped his lips; the irony made him feel good.

Finally, Jango climbed up the front steps, where a middle-aged woman stood at attention. She was clad in plate like the guards, but it was much more ornate and decorated in medals.

"Mr. Fox, I assume?"

"Jango will do fine."

The woman didn't seem to so much as flinch as Jango spoke, her face stone cold. "Mr. Fox. I am the Mistress-At-Arms of the manor. Master Stonewell is expecting you. He told me you know the way to his study?"

"Of course I do." Jango said, chuckling as the stoic expression on the woman's face contorted with confusion.

"Are you...an acquaintance of Master Stonewell?"

"You could say that." Jango said as he began to walk past the woman. "We met a long time ago."

"How long ago?"

"Back when this place was called Fox Manor."

Giggling to himself at the puzzled face deepened upon her face, Jango opened the large door of the manor and started to walk these familiar halls. The foyer was alit by candlelight. The shadows flickered and danced as Jango began to make his way to the main stairs to the second floor.

[The house looked so empty. I couldn't tell if it was just my nostalgia or not, but the place seemed so lifeless. But, then again, maybe I feel this way cause the house looked, ironically, much bigger than when I was a lad. Back then, I always had friends running around with me - the sons and daughters of high society. But now, the halls were quiet. There was seemingly no sign of life or warmth.]

He let his finger glide across the wall as he walked these familiar halls. He traced every step as he looked around, aimless. He knew where he should have been going; he was only lost within his own memories.

Suddenly, a smell hit his nose. The distinct smell of roasting ham, along with the whiff of honey and butter. It smelled good and it snapped Jango from his thoughts. He had drifted away from the foyer's stairs and was heading to the kitchen.

"It almost smells like Girdy's work..." Jango mumbled as he remembered the rosy cheeks of a sweet, old woman.

[Gretchen Smalls was her name, but everyone called her 'Girdy', the Head Chef. My mother died in childbirth, so I suppose Girdy was the closest thing I had to a mother - well, more like a grandmother, I suppose. Regardless, Girdy was always good to me. Maybe spoiled me a bit. I remember always running into her kitchen to try and sneak food away. Cooks chased me out with spoons and spatulas, but Girdy always kept snacks on her.

"Don't tell your Father about this," Girdy would giggle as she handed me dried fruits, nuts, even snuck me a bottle of strawberry cordial. "He'd tan my hide if he caught me."

"Who could ever be mad at you, Girdy?" I'd ask as I'd take whatever goodie she handed me. She was like an angel to me; couldn't do no wrong.]

"Hello, hello~ Hello?"

Jango blinked when he snapped from his memories and saw himself staring into the pale green eyes of a redheaded older gentleman, freckles adorning his fair skin. He was in a white jacket and trousers, the cook's uniform. And was talking with a very thick lisp.

"Thorry," the man said, "are you, uh, lost, young sir?"

[I wasn't shocked to see the old woman gone from her post. No doubt father time did her in; she was pushing 72 when my father and I were exiled from our home all those years ago. Today, she'd be 85. If time didn't do her in, then she most likely retired.

Still, to not see her in her own kitchen was heartbreaking. I didn't let it show on my face, but deep down, I was wishing I could have seen her one last time.]

A low chuckle escaped his lips as Jango shook his head. "No, no. Sorry, my good sir. I just took a wrong turn. I have a meeting with Lord Stonewell."

"Oh? Oh! You're the thpecial guest the lord mentioned!" The man extended his hand. "Pleathure to be of thervice to you~ The name's Roger; Roger O'hare!"

"Jango Fox." Jango took his hand and shook it. "Sorry for bumping into you. I know the way to his study and will just be on his way."

"No, no! Pleathe, jutht...hold on a thecond. Come with me~" Roger then quickly began to drag the former nobleman into the kitchen. The smell of cooked pork was just as Jango expected; though the fire was roaring, the ham was already on the table and cut. But now, Jango was hit with the beautiful smell of hot cheese.

"Isn't it a bit late?" Jango asked aloud, "it should be about half past midnight by now."

"Oh, it'th no trouble." Roger said, leading Jango to the table. "It'th the wortht kept thecret of Thtonewell Mannor; everyone thneaks into the kitchen and helpth themthelveth to a midnight meal."

Jango snorted a bit, "oh, is that right?" He watched the cook slap together a sandwich with some beautiful looking bagguetes, stacks of thinly sliced pork slices atop a healthy serving of hot cheese.

Roger nodded along. "Yeah, tho I'm in the habit of making thethe thandwicheth. Cauthe, well, if you're gonna eat, might ath well eat good food and not thcrounge for thcrapth like a thea rat."

"Well said, Roger. Well said." Jango said with a smirk as he watched him drop onions, lettuce, and peppers onto the sandwich. "You sure this is fine, though? I'm just visiting for a short few minutes."

"No, no, no. It'th a-okay!" Roger assured as he handed Jango the sandwich. "Matterth not to me if you're a member of the thtaff, a vithitor, or even a poor beggar. People who come to Thtonewell Manor will never go hungry. Or my name ithn't Roger O'hare!"

[I couldn't help but wonder if his name was coincidental, or intentionally didn't have 's'es...]

Jango shared a smile with Roger before he took a bite of the sandwich. The hot cheese was like heaven on a cool winter night. The salted, honey-glazed ham practically melted as he chewed it.

"This might be the best sandwich I ever had." Jango admitted without thinking, mouthful and watering as he kept stuffing his face.

"Aw, you're too kind." said Roger.

"No, I mean it. It's so good." Jango mused as he said, "Roger, you're a master of your craft."

"Well, thankth, Thir Jango!" Roger grinned, "if you ever need a friend, you'll alwayth have one in the Cook'th Guild." Roger gave Jango a wink, "look for the thign with the thkull croththed with a fork and knife and mention my name."

"A crossed skull?" Jango let out a hearty laugh, nearly choking on his sandwich. "I thought you all were chefs, not pirates!"

"Trutht me, Jango! When you work with food, we're one and the thame!"

With a final laugh between the two, Jango began to leave the kitchen with sandwich in hand and quickly being gobbled down. Good food of any kind, even sometimes simply cooked, with a luxury for a sellsword. One not often affordable. In fact, Jango hardly noticed he was hungry until he smelled the hot food from the kitchen.

But now, the sandwich was sitting in his stomach as he walked up the stairs of his former home. As he ascended to the second floor, he glanced out the window. Another familiar sight, and the only part of the garden that hadn't fallen apart past the last decade: the hedge maze.

[It was hardly a maze. But when you're a child, the tall walls were like an illusion. You could get lost there for hours. Every time, I'd swear it shifted and changed like magic.]

As Jango continued to climb the steps, he could see more of the maze. And, importantly, he could see the pond down in the center. It was beautiful once, with a large stone in the center of a clear little pond. It teemed with beautiful fish and frogs. But now, even in the darkness of night, he could see the waters were dirty and covered in dead leaves.

[At one point, it looked like a shining sea with a deserted island, almost like a small world in of itself. But now, it was a swamp.]

Shaking his head and forcing himself to forget those memories, Jango forced himself to continue forward. With teeth grit, he made it to the second floor and took a turn. However, he was stopped when he saw a man stumbling. He was clad studded leather. It was a familiar face, the first one he saw all night.

But not one he wanted to see.

"Hey! Who are you looking at?!" The man sneered; he had snow white hair and and a bushy mustache of the same tint. Ruddy skin that was adorned with scars. Jango glanced at his hip, but saw no sword there; just stains. And judging from the smell, it was most likely old bourbon - with an empty bottle clenched in his hand.

[Lawson McKormick; the Captain of the Guard. Grouchy, angry, vile. He worked for my mother, Serenity Fox. I think he always blamed me for her death. I remember a time when he punched me for skipping stones in "my mother's" pond in the hedge maze.

My father beat him until he was black and blue. In fact, I think I could still see the chin scar he left him.]

"I asked you a question!" The older man barked, "what are you looking at?!"

"...Nothing." Jango said simply as he walked past McKormick. "Sorry for staring. My bad eye bothers me sometimes." He chuckled under his breath as he walked past him.

"Hey!" Lawson shouted as he spun around. He tried to reach up and grab Jango's shoulder, but he missed by an inch or two and grabbed the air. "Have I - hic - seen you before?!" Lawson squinted at him, "you look familiar..."

Jango shrugged his shoulders, "hmm, no, I don't think so." Jango continued on his way, leaving the drunken man to stand there, slurring and mumbling to himself. Jango was sure he was cursing his name - or, would be if he remembered it. Not that he cared.

"How sad."

[He was always a dolt, but he was a good soldier, warrior, and guard captain. Now he was truly a shell of his former self. How befitting he became what he always called my father; a drunkard.]

Finally, Jango had reached the door at the end of the hallway. The study.

He didn't doubt that Oswald Stonewell was in there, because it was his father's study.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!

"Enter. It's open."

Pushing the door open, Jango entered the room. It was lit with a chandelier overhead, holding many candles that filled the air with the distinct smell of lavender, with only the subtle hint of wax. Jango didn't dare look around the room as he walked towards the desk; he didn't wanna think about how much the room changed. He only focused on Oswald Stonewell.

[In the grand scheme of things, he looked almost the same as when he saw me and my father out of the manor. Just with with more crow's feet. A long time ago, he truly did resemble that of a proud buck; a strong, stalwart guardian of the forest. Truly, a man among men. I admired him.

Now, he seemed so much smaller. He tried to sit tall, but I could see the beer gut even from behind that desk. His shoulders looked stiff, and clearly he hadn't picked up a sword in a long time. Once a warrior as well as a scholar, but clearly now, he was looking like neither.]

Jango pulled up a chair and sat across from Stonewell. The two looked each other in the eye. At first, there was silence. The only thing to break it was the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner. It was almost like the two were in a world of entirely just the two of them; a tense air bridging the two. The room was brightly lit, yet somehow, a shadow seemed to engulf the two.

"It's...good to see you again, Jango." Stonewell said, breaking the eye contact as he coughed into his fist. "So, how is ol' Horace doing?"

The younger man chuckled. "I hope you were expecting him to show up," Jango leaned back in his chair and smirked, "because he's dead."

"O-oh...I...I see..." Stonewell continued to clear his throat, lightly tugging on the collar of his navy suit. "How...how did he die?"

"Officially? Peacefully I was by his side during his final moments with his favorite bottle of dandelion wine." Jango mused, "but, I'd argue he died a week prior when that sword dug into his guts. It just took a little while."

"I...I see." Stonewell mumbled, trying to look back at Jango. "I am...terrible sorry."

"No you're not."

Sudden and sharp, Stonewell jumped in his seat as Jango smirked at him.

"Jango...you may not believe this, but Horace and I were friends."

"Oh? Friends, huh?" Jango crossed his arms. "Do friends go behind each other's backs and plant a knife in them? Do friends take advantage of each other in a drunk stupor and depose them from their position and have them run out of their home?"

Stonewell's face, for a moment, grew stern as he glared at the sellsword. "I did what I had to do. For your mother's memory and legacy/ Your father was ill equipped."

"My mother's memory, huh?" Jango cocked an eyebrow, "like the loving part of his will where she swore that this would always be a home to my father and I? Or maybe the part where you kicked us both out and put the estate - my ancestral home - in your name?"

Jango watched as Stonewell's mouth became dry. He squirmed in place, unable to look Jango in the eye. He wanted to say something - anything - to defend himself, but no words would come from his lips.

"And don't forget that your actions condemned me too." Jango continued as he snickered in his chair. "I hear most boys take up sword lessons when they're 13. When I was 13, I had to learn to fight, kill, and speak for myself. All before I learned to shave."

He waited for Stonewell to say something, but no response would come.

"So don't pretend that you cared about my mother or her wishes, cause you threw her family to the wolves. And don't pretend that you saw my father as anything more than an easy target, cause you saw grieving widow and passed him a bottle and a pen."

Silence once again befell the two of them. Stonewell looked down at the desk, shaking in his seat. He was no longer a strong man, but a broken one. He wanted to speak; he wanted to say so much, but it was clear "there was nothing he could to excuse himself or his actions.

"But I'm not angry."

Stonewell flinched as he sat up. "You're...you're not?"

Jango chuckled some more as he shook his head. "If I was angry, I wouldn't have came all the way here." He dug into his pocket retrieved the letter with the Stonewell crest on it. He placed it on the desk in front of him. "But don't talk to me like I'm a family friend; that was a long time ago. I'm simply here on business. Nothing more or less."

"Now, what is it?"

"...It's Madison."

That caught Jango off guard; the smirk on his face dropped like a rock. His heart skipped a beat once it all registered in his head.

"What about Madison?"

Stonewell took a deep breath. "For the last year or two now, Madison has been studying abroad. Have you heard of Dragon Seashore?"

"Afraid not."

"Well, it's a prestigious academy; one of the top 10 across the world." Stonewell continued to explain, "Madison has been studying there for some time now. And every month, she'd write to me a report on her studies once a month." Stonewell pulled out letters from his desk drawer and handed them to the sellsword. He began to look them over in the candle light.

[There was no denying it; it was Madison's handwriting. I felt my blood both boil and run cold at the same time.

I hated to admit it, but Stonewell had me by the balls now. Madison was my best friend a long time ago. And even if I hadn't seen her in so many years, the thought of something horrible happening to her sent a chill up my spine.]

"Why me?"

"What?"

Jango set down the letters. "Why ask me to do this?"

Stonewell took a deep breath. "You're the only one I can ask, Jango." Stonewell stood up from his desk and turned to the window. "For one thing, if it were to be public that my daughter is missing in another country, then my own position in noble court will be in jeopardy." He then began to walk to the window. "Not to mention that if this was public, I'd be gouged for all I'm worth."

"Well, speaking purely on business, tracking down a nobleman's daughter in another country should be a pricey operation." Jango said as he stood up.

"I don't intend on cheaping out, Jango." Stonewell assured, "I've already paid for a sailing vessel and a mercenary company privately. I just need someone to act in my stead. Someone I can trust."

"And that's me?" Jango asked with a chuckle.

Stonewell released another sigh. "Jango. I won't blame you if you decide to walk out that door right now and never see me again. For God's sake, you haven't seen me or my daughter in 13 years. But, please; if not for me, then at least do this for Madison. I know that I'm a rotten, worthless man. I'll have a warm seat waiting for me in hell. But Madison, she was always good to you, right? Please, if not for me, a desperate man and father, then for her."

[The fact he had the nerve to say that to me had me seeing red. I wanted to take my rapier from its holster and run him through like a stuffed pig. And I'm sure my hand was resting over the handle, ready to jump across the room and kill him where he stood.

But instead, I offered a hand.]

Lord Stonewell gasped as Jango offered him his hand to shake.

"I want half of my pay upfront and half when I bring her home."

The Lord gasped; he ran over to Jango and hurried to shake his hand. "Thank you, Jango. Thank you!"

"Don't thank me until I bring Madison back." Jango told him, "I'm doing this for her, not you."

"Yes, yes, of course." Stonewell pulled back his hand.

"So, where is this sailing crew?"

"You know the way to Ravenroost, correct?" Stonewell asked, "you'll need to go to a tavern called 'The Sour Spot'. Then, look for a man named Sterling; he's my top tracker. He'll explain everything and be a big help in finding Madison."

Jango nodded as he said, "alright; I'll be sure to get there by noon tomorrow."