Chaos of Choice: Book Five - Chapter One

 

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Chapter One

When Darkness Falls

 

“Do you believe in Fate? I sure don’t. The mere thought that there is a greater power deciding what I will do or become is stupid. It is nonsense to think that the same thing will happen regardless of what I do. I will not accept that someone will die at a certain time despite of what they do to stop it. People say it was meant to be. But tell me this, am I to just accept the fact that me home was destroyed and me and me family were raided along the road because it was meant to be? Was it Fate that me daughter and wife were raped and killed in front of me eyes? Was it Fate that decided that I would live only to end up a drunkard with no money? How can there be a force that decides such things and there’s nothing I can do? And don’t even get me started on the assumption that some folk are destined to be something great.

-Unknown found in the ruins of the Midway Blacksmith

 

“Revolutions are pointless. They achieve nothing. I started a revolution once, in the large hold of Wyzmir. I was the boss of it all, I planned it down to the smallest detail, got all the commoners on my side along with a lot of the soldiers. The current Lord was a greedy fool, so I had him killed along with his entire court and followers. Plenty of heads rolled from the scaffold during that time. It was good fun, in fact. And I was the boss of it all. After the killing ended I got a young Lord to take rule over Wyzmir. Of course I could have taken it for myself, but it was not my kind of thing. At the end of all that planning and killing it resolved nothing. The new Lord was the same as the old Lord. And I was sick of it. So, like a Boss I killed him too. And then I left.”

- The Diary of being a Boss by N.W.Thomas

 

 

Year 3632, the Sixth Age, the fifty-fourth day of Winter

 

It had been a slow and cold ride from Elmnest to Port Na’brath and they had been attacked twice by Grenlocks on the trek, not to mention nearly frozen stiff by the snow falls. But finally they were approaching the tall walls of the city and the closed doors to the southern end of The Port, the section also known as the Land of the Lords.

Fairris and her two companions had not talked much about the task Kil’dar had set them to do, but with the walls of the city coming closer Fairris could feel her gut twist into knots from tension.

“You picked a bad time to come to The Port, Grey Company,” one guard greeted as they stopped in front of the great iron bound doors.

“Isn’t that a good reason for us to be here?” Jar’nesh quipped.

The first guard nodded slowly, “Suppose you could look at it that way.”

“Either way you will have to go to north to the gates at The Ladder, the business section of the city,” the second guard said sternly.

“Why is that?” Jar’nesh asked curiously.

“Lord Cardonian’s making entrance to the Land of the Lord harder for all concerned,” the first guard shrugged, “Unless you have a Writ of Passage you can’t get through here.”

“How is this?” Fairris asked when she pulled a rolled piece of parchment from a pouch tied at her belt and handed it to the first guard.

“That’s over a year old,” the second guard said, “You have to renew them every year.”

“It has an indefinite time limit,” the first guard pointed out to his associate, “And it is a Varrintine seal.”

“You are a friend of Lord Varrintine?” the second guard ask Fairris.

“Vincent and I are friends, yes,” Fairris nodded.

“You are a bit late for the funeral,” the first guard remarked as he handed back the Writ of Passage to Fairris.

“What funeral?” Fairris quickly asked in concern.

“Vhaan, one of the Varrintine twins, was killed a couple of nights ago,” the second guard explained, “It happened when a Varrintine warehouse was raided. And mark my words this is just the beginning of the blood shed that’s about to happen in this city.”

“What of Vhaan’s twin, Vheord? They work that warehouse together,” Fairris asked seriously.

“Alive,” replied the first guard, “A couple of injuries as word has it, but alive and wanting Cardonian blood as recompense for his brother.”

“Lord Varrintine could tell you more,” the second guard added, “All we get is word of mouth, so to speak.”

The first guard sent word through the doors and a great crank sounded as the iron bound doors swung smoothly inwards revealing the road through the estates of the Land of the Lords.

“Have a good day, Grey Company,” the second guard said as he stepped to the side.

Fairris nodded to the guard and quickly spurred her horse onwards and her companions were soon at her tail. The estates of the Lords sat upon the southern hill of Port Na’brath and were usually open and grassy with pleasant little spots of wilderness scattered throughout the walled acreages of the Lords. On this cold day, those grassy meadows were covered in a blanket of snow and the trees wore icy white hats. The wide road was all mud and ice as it twisted past the large ornate gates before branching off and heading to the city streets of the rich section of the city, or heading to the Magi Guild that stood on the cliffs looking out across the Western Oceania.

Knowing these roads well Fairris headed down one of the branching streets and came soon to a large black steel gate with golden vines twisted around the bars. The gateman recognised her as she reigned in and the gates were opened allowing her and her companions to ride up the short driveway and dismount at the front door. Word of her arrival and been sent from the gate and several stable hands came and received the horses.

The front doors of the mansion swung open and Lord Varrintine walked solemnly out to greet them.

“It is always a pleasure to see you, Fairris,” Lord Varrintine greeted and strained a smile and embraced her with a hug. “You are most welcome, as are your companions. Please come in.”

“I was so sorry to hear what had happened,” Fairris said as she followed Lord Varrintine inside. “How is Lady Varrintine?”

“As to be expected,” the Lord replied simply.

Lord Varrintine led the way through the long hall and into a sitting room where a warm fire burned.

“And the rest of the family?” Fairris asked as she sat.

“As to be expected,” Lord Varrintine replied again.

“And you?”

Lord Varrintine sighed heavily, “My son Vhaan is dead. Killed by agents of Cardonian as he tries to break my resolve against him. My son Vheord lost a hand and will unlikely ever see out of his left eye again. Even my skills with magicks cannot give him his hand back and healing magicks are so useless now days I doubt I will be able heal his sight completely. My wife confines herself to her private quarters and cries most of the time. My son Vythe has gone missing after I sent him on a mission to Crydon, whether dead at the hands of King Lienthor or rotting in a dungeon I do not know. And very soon my family and I will be in the middle of a bloody war with Cardonian, where I may lose more of my children and friends. How do you expect I am?”

Fairris looked away to the fire in embarrassment.

“But despite these depths of darkness I find myself in, I see light,” Lord Varrintine continued, “I saw this hope when three riders in grey came to my door. One of whom is a dear friend of the family.”

Fairris looked back to Lord Varrintine and smiled, and a flood of guilt washed over her.

“The High Commission wants you dead, Vincent.” Fairris blurted out, drawing angered expressions from her companions.

“So that is the reason why the Grey Company is here,” Lord Varrintine nodded and smiled. “If you will allow me to say a few words before you strike me down, my Ladies?”

Jar’nesh and Ty’far smiled uncomfortably.

“The High Commission does not care if you kill me or not,” Vincent began, “For a while now all they have strived to do is have single rule over all of Essinendeür. First they tried to do this through voting and democratic approaches, but that failed. They then tried to do it through business, taxes and control of the wealth of the nations. That also failed. Their recent attempts have been through fear and chaos. By instigating the conflicts between the Kings and Lords of the realms they place fear into the commoners and then they offer a peaceful solutions that involves them having all control and power over all the regions. That solution is already being laid down in the form of the United Conclave. No doubt you have met them before.”

Fairris and her companions nodded.

“By killing me,” Lord Varrintine continued, “The civil war in Port Na’brath would escalate and drive the commoners into the welcoming arms of the High Commission. Do you see now?”

Fairris glanced to her companions, but still they looked uncomfortable.

“The High Commission’s plans are working,” Vincent said, “And no doubt I will help them when I crush Lord Cardonian. But I ask you, if you are still set on killing me, at least wait until Lord Cardonian is dying at my feet.”

A tense silence filled the room and Jar’nesh and Ty’far looked to each other, as if reading the other’s thoughts, and they shrugged.

“I suppose we could wait to kill you until then, my Lord,” Jar’nesh said with a sly smile.

“I appreciate your kindness,” Lord Varrintine smiled back, “Until then please stay here, my house is your home. I will have rooms made up for each of you. But now, if you would excuse me I have much planning to do. I would like to request the company of all of you tonight after dinner.”

Vincent Varrintine nodded to them before departing the room at a swift gate.

“This is turning out to be interesting,” Ty’far remarked with a glint in her eye.

“I wonder what he meant by seeing hope when we rode through his gate?” Jar’nesh asked curiously.

“Maybe he thinks we will help with killing Lord Cardonian?” Ty’far shrugged, “I wouldn’t mind, as long as we get paid.”

Jar’nesh smirked and nodded, “As long as we get paid.”

A maid then came and asked them to follow her to their rooms. Fairris knew the young maid and they exchanged a few words before Fairris moved into her room. On the table by the door were her saddle bags and a warm fire was already burning in the hearth. Fairris smiled widely when she noticed that a hot bath had been dawn and the large brass tub was filled with steam and bubbles that floated into the air before pooping in a shower of rainbows.

Fairris threw off her travelling gear and happily slipped into the warm water. She must have fallen asleep for the next thing she realised she was being awoken by a soft knock on the open door of the bathroom.

“M’lady Fairris,” the young maid called tentatively as she entered.

“Yes,” Fairris replied as she tried to appear as if she had not been sleeping.

“Lunch is about to be served on the balcony down stairs,” the maid said, “But if you wish to continue resting I will inform your companions.”

“No, it’s alright I will be down shortly,” Fairris said and smiled to the maid over her shoulder.

The young girl softly closed the door of the bathroom and Fairris rose from the water of the bath which was still warm. After letting the water out and colourful bubbles drain away she dried herself and gathered her clothes which had been cleaned and folded and placed at the end of the large bed.

Inüer was shining as Fairris joined Ty’far and Jar’nesh on the veranda. Much of the snow on the ground was melted and a chill breeze blew in from the northwest, but it was pleasant on the wooden decking.

There they ate and talked idle for a while, each of them avoiding talking about the reason they had been sent to Port Na’brath.

After lunch they walked about the gardens of the Varrintine estate where Fairris dropped in to the stables to see her horse Squall. She was glad to see that Squall was happy to be back home and the old stable master exclaimed that he never thought he would see the horse again.

Later that afternoon Fairris and her companions wandered about the mansion and began looking through the many books in the large library. They were still there when they were called to dinner.

As it turned out it was only Fairris, Ty’far and Jar’nesh who were eating and they each felt awkward as the cooking staff waited on them.

After dinner they were called into a large lounge room where Lord Varrintine waited. There were also three of the Varrintine sons, Vheord who was looking miserable with a stump for a right hand and a deep cut across his left eye, and Varren and Vyard. All of the sons had raven black hair and dark eyes like their father and wore the gold and black vests of their house. As it was the two eldest sons, Vhindr and Volden, remained in Elmnest to look after the Varrintine lands there.

 As Fairris moved into the room so did the youngest Varrintine, and only daughter, Valianna.

“Fairris,” Valianna exclaimed as she moved to embrace Fairris with a hug. “I am so glad you came.”

“It is good to see you Valianna,” Fairris smiled, “How have you been?”

Sadness came to the young girls face and she sighed, “I have been coping, I guess. My studies have kept my mind occupied.”

“You are still at the Magi Guild then?” Fairris nodded, “I would not have thought there were many left.”

“About ten students,” Valianna shrugged, “And two masters, one of which is Grand Magi Traund. Apparently there are two people on the shortlist to be admitted next year, but most of the wealthy families are sending their children to the new Collumbert University.”

“I met the founder of that college when he was transporting a Kings wealth in diamonds and pearls from Nivalna,” Fairris remarked and Valianna’s eyes widened in wonder.

“Enough gossip Valianna,” Varren said before Valianna could reply, “We have important thing to discuss.”

“What? Like how to get revenge of Cardonian?” Valianna snapped, “More killing will not bring Vhaan back.”

“What do you know of it?” Varren retorted, “You are child, barely thirteen.”

“I know as much as you,” Valianna was quick to say, “And you are barely nineteen.”

“Enough,” Lord Varrintine shouted before Varren could say more, “Valianna, please go to your mother, she has been waiting for you.”

“Yes, father,” Valianna nodded and turned to leave, but not before she stuck her tongue out at her brother.

As Valianna left Fairris and her companions took up a seat and waited for Lord Varrintine to begin.

“Shall we talk about how to destroy house Cardonian now,” Vyard suggested, stroking his goatee, and before his father could begin.

“I say we strike his warehouses along the docks in The Ladder,” Varren jumped in, “Burn them to the ground and kill all of Cardonian’s associates.”

“Then we can break into Cardonian’s vault at the Merchants Bank,” Vyard added with a smile, “Cut off his revenue and income.”

“Then we should destroy his statue in Cardonian Square,” Varren continued, “Right before we launch a full assault on his estate, burning it to the ground.”

“I like the way you think brother,” Vyard smiled, “What do you say Vheord?”

The wounded son looked slowly up from the fire and to his brothers, “As long as we kill them all.”

“We will,” Vyard promised, “Our brother Vhaan will be avenged.”

“Enough,” Lord Varrintine cut in authoritatively, “I thought I raised my sons better than this. You cannot openly strike out against another Lord unless you know for certain that the majority of the others will back you. Nor can the house of Varrintine be directly involved in any actions.”

“But father,” Varren spoke up, “I want Lord Cardonian to know it is us that are destroying him. I want him to see my face before he goes to be judged by the Gods.”

“Do not worry, he will know it is us,” Vincent Varrintine assured his sons, “And he will see us all clearly before the last light leaves his eyes. He will know the despair of losing everything he loves before he leaves this life.”

A smile came to both Varren and Vyard as they listened to Lord Varrintine’s plan, and by the end even Vheord’s sad visage had brightened.

Fairris glanced to Jar’nesh and Ty’far many times during the evening and she could see that they too seemed to become excited by the strategies of Lord Varrintine.

They all talked and plotted long into the night and following day. More than once the Varrintine sons became upset with their father’s plans, especially when he stated that Varren was to be married to a daughter of influential Lords of the Port.

“But father, I do not want to marry yet, I am only nineteen,” Varren argued, “I want to travel the world before I decide to pick a bride.”

“Lord Zanzier’s eldest daughter is quite beautiful,” Lord Varrintine replied sternly, “And she is nothing like her father. You will stop acting like a child Varren, with this marriage you will be one of the most powerful Lords in the city.”

“Come on brother,” Vhyard added, “Alorren Zanzier is quite the catch, if you can court her well enough.”

“You can talk,” Varren huffed, “You are nearly thirty and already journeyed across the realms. And you are already married.”

“My wife is the daughter of a merchant,” Vhyard replied, “Nowhere near as prominent as the house of Zanzier.”

“Perhaps I would be the better choice to marry Lady Alorren,” Vheord spoke up, “I already know her well and speak with her often. Varren is still young and I am twenty five, it is time I look to find a wife.”

A proud smile came to Lord Varrintine’s face and he nodded in agreement.

“Yes, thank you brother,” Varren laughed and hugged Vheord and planted a playful kiss on his brother’s cheek.

Vheord pushed his brother away with a smirk and shook his head.

“Father,” Vhyard spoke over his brother’s laughs, “Can you tell us what you have in mind for Fairris and her companions?”

When Varren and stopped his celebrations Lord Varrintine continued explaining his plans and made a particular note of what he was willing to pay for the aid of Jar’nesh and Ty’far.

Valianna stopped in many times curious to know what was going and added her own thoughts. Even Lady Varrintine came by once, her appearance only really to welcome Fairris like a courteous hostess before leaving to spend more time with Valianna.

*****************************************************

Two nights later Fairris was walking through The Pit, the poorest section of the city in the north of Port Na’brath. As she walked the dark and muddy streets snow began to fall on her head and shoulders. The white flakes fell gently through the air before coming to rest upon the houses and building on the ground. The hour was late and most people were inside and beside a warm fire. A few night walkers considered Fairris curiously, but the marvellous gunblades sheathed at her hips dissuaded any trouble.

Fairris shivered and brought her fur cloak closer about her as she neared her destination. By now a thick layer of snow was on the ground and the mud of the streets had frozen. The golden light of the street lanterns glowed brightly as Fairris turned down a narrow alley. The path did not go far and came to a small cul-de-sac with a few dark backstreets moving between the wooden buildings. At the entrance to one lane a single streetlight shone and marked the path into the dead end alley which the Thieves Guild operated from.

Confidently Fairris moved past the streetlight and walked into the darkness of the alleyway. Her elven eye sight made it easy to navigate the narrow passage and see the many arrow holes in the walls of the buildings. The snow crunched softly under her feet as she turned the corner and came to the flat stone wall of a building.

Hanging from a beam that stuck out from the wall was a dim lantern which cast a faint light through the darkness. It highlighted the boxes and crates stacked about the place and making the shadows seem longer and denser than they were.  

A slight smile came to Fairris’s face, for she knew that the thieves used theatrics and practical illusion to aid them. She remembered Vythe telling her how the thieves cleverly did not use magicks, which can be detected, and instead implemented mechanical techniques to make them appear more than they were. And now that magicks had all but vanished from the world their skills were seen as even more remarkable.

“If you have come seeking the shadows, then you have found them,” a voice spoke from behind her, and Fairris glanced over her shoulder curiously.

“Greetings,” came the same voice and Fairris looked to the front and to a cloaked figure who now stood under the lantern. “What can we possibly do for one of the Grey Company?”

“I have a task for you and your organisation, Grenorl,” Fairris replied confidently, remembering the name of the leader, which Vythe had told her once.

The figure threw back his hood, revealing his thick blonde hair and rugged beard.

“You know me name,” Grenorl said, “But I do not recall ever meeting you. And a pretty face like yours I would not forget.”

“The person who recommended you, spoke your name,” Fairris replied.

“And who was that?”

“No one I care to mention.”

Grenorl smiled slightly, “And do you have a name?”

“My name does not matter,” Fairris was quick to say.

“Very well then, my beautiful elf warrior,” Grenorl said, “What can my association do for you?”

“My client will pay you to break into two Merchant Vaults and steal the money,” Fairris replied simply, and Grenorl’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Which two vaults?” the leader of the Thieves Guild asked curiously.

“Cardonian and Varrintine.”

Grenorl’s eyes went even wider, “The two most powerful houses in the Port. The pay had better be worth it.”

“All the money in the vaults is yours.”

Grenorl seemed stunned by Fairris’s words and he suddenly seemed to have no response.  

“A curious proposal,” said a Lithinüer as she came out from the shadows behind some crates, “From an even more curious individual. A Zirarien in the clothes of a Nevārancien working for a Lord of Port Na’brath. And even more curiously she knows the real name of the leader of the Thieves Guild.”

Fairris stomach suddenly turned as she recognised the Lithinüer as Sārlien, Vythe’s mentor in the Thieves Guild, and remembered the brief meeting when Lieut, Vythe and herself had come through Port Na’brath when Lieut was looking for his brother.

“This not the kind of business to discuss out in the cold,” Sārlien decided, “Perhaps your private room would be more conducive, Grenorl. There will be no need to blindfold her.”

The leader of the Thieves Guild nodded slightly and motioned Fairris to follow him. They moved from the light of the lantern and into the shadows where Sārlien had come from. Grenorl then led the way through a cleverly concealed doorway and down a flight of stairs which went into a series of tunnels. After a few turns they went up another flight of stairs and into the stone building, which Fairris guessed to be the very one which blocked the end of the alley.

Up another flight of stone steps they went and through a doorway into small and cosy room. A desk and a few chairs sat at the centre of the room with a small fire burning brightly in the corner. A shelf of books lined one wall and two windows looked out onto the streets.

“Please have a seat, Fairris,” Sārlien bade as they entered, and both Grenorl and Fairris looked to the Lithinüer in surprise.

“My memory is not that short as to forget the time we met,” the elf smiled and sat down in one of the chairs in front of the desk as Grenorl took up the chair behind it. “How is Vythe?”

Fairris hesitated and sighed, “He was well when last I was with him. We have not been in the same company for over a year.”

“You know Vythe? Then there was no need for such secrecy,” Grenorl said with a smile.

“Yes there was,” Fairris insisted, “Vythe, nor his family can have any connection to what I have asked.”

“Which is why we speak in here,” Sārlien said, “I am troubled to admit that some in this guild work for Cardonian, as well as other Lords. In here your words will not be overheard.”

That brought much relief to Fairris.

“So who is your client?” Grenorl asked curiously.

“You know of recent events,” Fairris replied, “And I am sure you know well the political situation in the city. Do I really need to say who is hiring you to steal from these vaults?”

Sārlien smiled and nodded, “No you do not. And Grenorl will put his best associate onto the task.”

“Will I?” Grenorl asked in surprise, “I am not sure if taking this contract would be a beneficial thing to do.”

“But the money in the vaults will be yours,” Fairris said with concern.

“The money will not be worth it if it brings all of the Land of Lords down upon me,” the leader of the Theives Guild was quick to say. “Gold comes and goes with the times. But I will not bring this Guild to ruin. We are tolerated well enough now, simply because we are but a nuisance that none can be bothered to take the time and eradicate. But if I accept this job, and succeed mind you, this guild will pose a threat to all the Lords of The Port. And they will do something about it. Though it is tempting, I cannot in good conscience bring that upon this guild and my family.”

Fairris tried to make some form of argument to persuade Grenorl, but she had thought from the beginning that this part of Lord Varrintine’s plan could be a problem. Grenorl’s thoughts were to self preservation and there was no way she could deter him from that path, or judge him harshly for that choice.

“I am proud of you Grenorl,” Sārlien spoke up with a smile, “Many have thought that you did not have the mind set for the job of leading the guild, but they were wrong.”

Grenorl smiled and Fairris sighed in defeat.

“However,” Sārlien continued, “I do not think a reprisal will come from the Lords if you were to be successful in this heist.”

“What do you mean?” Grenorl was quick to ask.

“This contract clearly comes from one of the Lords,” Sārlien replied, “Not to mention all the other Lords in Port Na’brath will benefit from the success of this theft. Cardonian and Varrintine will likely look to raid The Pit in search of this guild, but the other Lords will vote against it and claim it is a waste of resources. I think you should accept the contract my friend. If there is no risk, there is no reward.”

A sense of hope sparked within Fairris as she looked to Grenorl who was considering Sārlien’s words carefully.

“I do trust your judgement Sarlien, and am thankful for it,” the leader of the guld said as he continued to think, “It is a big risk to take though.”

A few minutes of silence drifted slowly by as Grenorl continued to ponder the options. Nerverously Fairris sat in her chair as she waited for some decisions.

“Very well, I will do it myself even,” Grenorl smiled breaking the silence, “Such a challenge I would be a fool pass up, and all the money in both vaults you say?”

Fairris nodded with relief, and Grenorl licked his lips is excitement.

“Best get the planning started,” Grenorl laughed and jumped to his feet.

“I will be coming also,” Fairris said.

“What, you do not trust us?” Grenorl asked seriously.

“My client is not paying me to trust you,” replied Fairris with slight smile.

Grenorl smirked, “Very well then. Follow me.”

Grenorl stopped at the door and looked to Sārlien, “Do you want to join in the fun too Sārlien?”

The elf smiled and shook her head, “No, I have other things that need to be attended to.”

Grenorl shrugged and headed out the door, Fairris said her farewells to the Lithinüer before following the leader of the Thieves Guild.

Fairris moved after Grenorl and down a few hallways before they came to another cosy room. Another small fire burned in the corner and a round table stood in the centre, but there were no windows looking over the streets this time.

Grenorl was quick to summon three of his most trusted associates before he began to plan out the different approaches they could take. Fairris stood by the fire and waited patiently for things to be set in motion.

**************************************************

As Fairris walked into the alleyway leading to the Thieves Guild in The Pit, Jar’nesh and her close friend Ty’far were walking the streets of The Ladder. The Ladder was the middle section of the city where most mid-level merchants and business men lived along with those who were wealthy enough not to live in The Pit.

A light snow had begun to fall onto the cobble stone streets and tiled roofs, and a pale white light from the street lanterns cast aside most of the shadows. But Jar’nesh and Ty’far were not trying to be secretive, and the calmly walked through the alleyways and side streets.

“This cold reminds me of Marin’cath back home,” Ty’far remarked as she pulled her cloak closer about her.

“Weren’t you born there?” Jar’nesh asked curiously.

“No,” Ty’far shook her head, “I grew up in the islands of The Cuts. It was always warm there.”

“I was born in Mendōre,” Jar’nesh remarked, “It was always cold there.”

Ty’far laughed at that and Jar’nesh joined in as they moved through the darkening streets.

It was strange to Jar’nesh that she would be having so much fun here in Essinendeür. During the time building up to the invasion she had been to many lectures on how this land was filled with evil and occupied by weaklings. They told her that this land was not a nice place to live in, that all it was good for was to rape the land of natural resources and enslave the natives.

But ever since they had landed and been forced to surrender at the battle on the Morrow Plains, she had found nothing but enjoyment and exciting adventure. She imagined that this is what Nevārance and Kor’vir had been like before her people destroyed it, and now she was starting to see Essinendeür how it truly was in all its beauty.

If the High King Gar’lan was to ever orchestrate a way for all the Nevāranciens in Essinendeür to return to Metrā, Jar’nesh knew that she would not join them.  Looking to her companion, she hoped Ty’far felt the same.

“Is that the place?” Ty’far asked as they came to the end of a narrow street and lingered in the little shadow available.

“Fifty-two, Little Bird Way,” Jar’nesh read the address marked on the steps leading up to a large manor with white washed walls and blue tiled roof. “I guess it’s the right place.”

They both shrunk back into the shadows as a city carriage came along the road and stopped in front of the house. As soon as the single horse cart came to a halt the doors of house fifty-two swung inwards and a tall man walked briskly down the stairs.

“Combed blonde hair, gaunt feature and a bent over walk,” Ty’far observed, “That has to be Rhold Darlton, and this has to be the place that Varrintine told us about.”

Jar’nesh nodded, “There goes Rhold to the whore house and gambling den of The Blue Palace. Right on schedule.”

The carriage carrying Rhold Darlton rattled up the street and out of view and the sound of the horse’s hooves drifted into the cold night.

Jar’nesh led the way from the alley and up to the front door of number Fifty-two Little Bird Way. At the threshold Jar’nesh dropped to her knee and began to pick the lock of the house.

“I hope Varrintine was right about the lack of security Rhold has on his house,” Ty’far whispered as she glanced along the dimly lit street. “I don’t want to spend time in the dungeon, or end up fleeing the city with the guards on my arse.”

Jar’nesh smiled and her eyes sparkled as the locked clicked and the door swung inwards. Carefully Jar’nesh led the way into the dim light in the house, a great staircase spiralled up in front of them and a crystal chandelier hung above the entrance with a soft glow emanating from it.

“So this guy is in command of all Cardonian’s stock movement out of Port Na’brath,” Ty’far remarked as they looked about the place. “You think he would have more security in place.”

Jar’nesh shrugged, “Maybe that is why he doesn’t, not many would look to upset one of the most powerful men in the city.”

“I guess,” Ty’far remarked, “Anyway let’s get to work. What are we looking for again?”

“According to Lord Varrintine, Rhold Darlton is a very superstitious man,” Jar’nesh replied, “He is one of many that believe that to be lucky and fortunate he has to guide life energy through his home and body.”

Ty’far laughed, and Jar’nesh joined in.

“Lord Varrintine said that it comes from the teachings of the Sect of Antōre,” Jar’nesh continued, “The followers place specific artefacts about their house and wear trinkets and other such things on their person. Like this vase here. I think.”
Jar’nesh moved to the small table that sat below the chandelier and were an ornate and intricately designed ceramic vase was positioned. Painted on the vase were many old writings and images and about its base sat five jade stones in a circle around it, each one representing one of the Five Gods.

“Well let’s get to it then,” Ty’far smiled and launched a heavy kick into the small table.

The impact of her strike sent the table tumbling over and casting the vase and jade stone onto the floor. The stone skipped off the tiles and flew into the dark corners of the house, and the thousand year old vase shattered into dozens of pieces and echoed throughout the house.

“You could have been more quiet about it,” Jar’nesh smiled and shook her head before moving from the entrance hall and throughout the rest of the house.

She and Ty’far moved quickly and effectively breaking and vandalising every item and artefact they found. Lord Varrintine had given them some guidelines as to what to look for, but whenever they were unsure they broke it.

Rhold Darlton had quite a collection of rare and expensive artefacts most religious and some not, but by the time Jar’nesh and Ty’far were finished his priceless collections had become worthless.

During the vandalising Jar’nesh made a special note to destroy the plaques above each of the doorways, as Lord Varrintine had explained that they were significant to the followers of the Antōre Sect.

Jar’nesh sheathed her sword after shattering the last of the porcelain plaques and met Ty’far back in the entrance hall.

“So now is Rhold going to think he is cursed and will have bad luck forever?” Ty’far asked with a quizzical expression.

“Apparently,” Jar’nesh shrugged, “Either way it will drive him further into his drug addiction and ruin his business dealings, thus causing Cardonian to lose money.”

Ty’far nodded and they moved from the house and back onto the streets to meet two of the city guards with drawn swords.

“Hold there you two,” the first guard ordered and Jar’nesh and Ty’far stopped at the base of the stairs.

“We got ‘em, Bidge,” the second guard laughed, “A pair ‘o thievin’ Nevāranciens at that.” 

“Right you are, Weggs,” Bidge nodded enthusiastically, “Go on, cuff these vandals.”

“Me?” Weggs looked shocked.

“Do it,” Bidge snapped, “Don’t ya worry, I got ya covered.”

“They ‘av swords Bidge,” Weggs argued.

“That they do,” Bidge looked thoughtful before an idea came to his head. “You two, slowly unsheathe your swords with your opposite hands and drop them to your feet.”

Jar’nesh and Ty’far looked in bemusement to each other and slightly nodded before slowly unsheathing their swords.

“Catch,” Jar’nesh said and tossed her blade to Bidge as Ty’far did the same with the other guard.

Stupidly both guards looked to catch the swords as they flew towards them, and did not even notice Jar’nesh and Ty’far as they darted forwards.

Jar’nesh struck hard and fast with a kick to the knee of Bidge as he fumbled to catch her sword. In the same motion she grabbed the guard by the throat and drove him backwards and to the cobblestone streets. Bidge’s helmed head hit the ground hard, knocking him senseless.

With a smile Jar’nesh retrieved her sword and looked to see that Ty’far had similarly incapacitated Weggs.

“Come on,” Jar’nesh said laugh, “Lets head to the docks before more guards show up.”

Ty’far nodded and they set off at a jog through the snow covered streets.

“Looks like all those charms in Rhold’s house might have done something,” Ty’far remarked, “His luck is about to turn really bad.”

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