The next day came with a chill and a light mist drifting up from the river below. The wind whipped up the path of the River Yorna pushing the mist into the crisp blue sky. Lieut closed his eyes as the wind blew his hair back and he breathed in the fresh taste of the morning. It was still early when he woke Vythe and Fairris, but he chose not to disturb Bārdin, hoping they could slip away whilst the dwarf was still sleeping.

As Vythe and Fairris had a bite to eat the dwarf woke suddenly with a loud choking sound and a snort.

Bārdin jumped to his feet in surprise at his surroundings, his eyes darting around the area and falling upon the trio.

“Kidnappers are we?” The dwarf snorted. “I be thinking you picked the wrong dwarf to nap.”

Bārdin balled his fists towards them expecting a fight.

“Ease yourself dwarf,” Vythe replied calmly. “We are no kidnappers, and you are definitely no child. You followed us in your drunken delirium last night. Head down that tunnel behind you and you will find yourself back at the Midway tavern with more beer to guzzle.”

“What games you be playing?” the dwarf asked, glancing over his shoulder at the passage way. “Trying to send me down into a dragon’s lair, are ya? Well this dwarf ain’t no fool.”

“Clearly,” Fairris mumbled sarcastically.

“Go where you wish then,” Lieut remarked with a shrug.

“Wait a minute,” Bārdin said recognising Lieut. “I recall last night now. And I thank you for your aid with Lord Dasher’s son, silver hair.”

“No thanks is necessary.” Lieut looked away from Bārdin. “Nor is it desired.”

“You’re half right.” The dwarf nodded. “But much more be necessary. I be honour bound to aid you now. You helped me when you did not need to, and I will do the same.”

“I do not need or want your help,” Lieut replied quickly.

“Be that as it may.” Bārdin put his hands on his hips. “I’ll be sticking with you until you do need my help.”

“That will be never,” Lieut stated. “You say you are honour bound to me, but keep your honour and leave.”

“What honour would there be in that?” Bārdin looked at him in confusion.

“More so than being in someone’s debt,” Lieut was quick to say.

“Who’s in whose debt?” Bārdin asked back. “I said I be honour bound to lend you aid when you need it most, I said nothing about being in your debt.”

The dwarf gave him a curious look before joining Vythe and Fairris by the fire and helping himself to what food was available.

“What can I say to make you leave?” Lieut sighed in frustration.

“You cannot compete with the stubbornness of Dwarves, Lieut,” Vythe cut in, a bemused expression on his face. “What is your name Master Dwarf?”

“Bārdin son of Bain, I be.” The dwarf bowed low. “Not too happy with an Elf in company, but I’ll just have to put up with it I guess.”

Fairris grumbled something under her breath and clenched her jaw before standing up and walking away from the fire. “Shall we train, Lieut?”

Lieut did not reply as he moved to join Fairris, drawing his sword in the process.

Fairris summoned her gunblades and suddenly launched herself off a rock towards him. He easily slipped under the attack and knocked Fairris down the steep hill. Fairris tumbled and rolled, bouncing off a few rocks, but she was on her feet as soon as she could be and just in time to face him again as he jumped down the rocks to where Fairris had landed.

It was one of Fairris’s better days, and she lasted longer than usual. Lieut and Fairris jumped around the rocky hillside exchanging attacks, but always Fairris would end up going for another tumble down the hill. Somehow they both ended up in the shallows of the river but they did not stop their duelling. Water flew through the air as Lieut spun in circles, his attacks forcing Fairris to defend. Soon blood joined the water as his sword slipped through and scratched Fairris on the thigh. Like always the cut was not deep, and Fairris quickly healed the scratch and continued the sparing session. Inevitably Fairris became exhausted and stumbled on the loose river stones. Lieut was quick to aid her fall and stepped ahead kicking Fairris firmly in the gut and causing her to fall backwards with a splash into the water.

Fairris sat up in the shallow water, gasping for breath, her gunblades vanished and the tip of Lieut’s sword inches from her neck.

“You lose, again,” Lieut stated simply and turned to head back towards the hill returning his sword to the clips at his shoulder and leaving Fairris in the water.

“What am I doing wrong?” Fairris called to him frustration.

Lieut turned and gave Fairris a curious look. “Nothing.”

Fairris slapped the water in frustration and moved to join him. Her clothes and hair were saturated and water was streaming down her skin. Lieut tried to turn and continue heading up the hill, but something was stopping him.

Fairris drained the water from her amazing red hair and joined him, a smile on her face. Stretching the stiffness from his neck he and Fairris returned to the campsite where Vythe and Bārdin had been watching them.

“That was fun.” Bārdin laughed as they returned. “Always a hoot to see an Elf pulled off their high horse.”

“You would not do better,” Fairris snapped and glared at the dwarf.

Bārdin laughed again. “I’d not be fool enough to try. By the look of that sword alone I know I can’t beat him.”

“What do you mean?” Vythe asked curiously.

“Only the greatest of warriors would be able to wield a weapon like his.” Bārdin pointed to Lieut’s sword.

“Trust a Dwarf to believe the weapon makes the warrior,” Fairris remarked derisively.

Bārdin glared at Fairris, but did not reply.

“Why is it that there must always be suspicion and dislike between Elves and Dwarves?” Vythe wondered aloud.

“It be the Elves that caused it,” Bārdin was quick to say.

“Hardly,” Fairris exclaimed, “ever have Dwarves been jealous of the fairer Elves.”

“Fairer?” growled Bārdin.

“Enough,” Lieut cut in. “It is past time we left.”

“I guess you will be wanting me to teleport you then,” Vythe said hesitantly, seeming uncomfortable.

“We’ll see,” Lieut replied slowly as he regarded Vythe curiously. “Come on, let’s go.”

The animosity between Bārdin and Fairris continued as Lieut led the group from the hillside up onto the flat. So much was the dislike between Elves and Dwarves that they both walked as far from each other as possible, and even remarked how the other was not a viable travelling companion. Both Lieut and Vythe tried to ignore such remarks and just walk on through the morning.

They stayed close to the River Yorna as it carved its way through the earth. To the south the ground rose dramatically as it headed up to the Yineth Plateau and to the north the Gaia Mountains could still be seen, though, now the snowy peaks seemed quite far away and had begun to turn to the north. The land was flat in this region, and wide, with long grass and infrequent trees. What foliage there was grew close to the river and predominately on the southern bank. Littered throughout the grass lands were small shrubs and woody trees with bright leaves and small flowers. Little birds fluttered around the shrubs and grass, all of them with vivid colours and pleasant calls.

Lieut could see the narrow paths in the grass that had been made by small animals, and on one of the many rocks he even saw one of the makers of the paths. But as soon as the small furry animal saw him it darted back into the grass, not to be seen again.

As Lieut walked along, beside him Bārdin began to mumble a tune. Lieut could not hear much of the lyrics, but was able to catch a few words:

Far to the south where the Fog trees have grown;

Lays a realm of both wood and stone;

Grün Narād, O’ Grün Narād;

The stolen kingdom of my dwarven home.

The rest of the song was lost in Bārdin’s rugged beard, and Lieut could not hear the words.

“What is Grün Narād, Bārdin?” Lieut decided to ask, his voice breaking the quietude of the morning.

“My once home,” the dwarf replied solemnly. “Men called it Ironwood. But it is my home no longer. A darkness crept into Grün Narād that no light can pierce.”

“Is that not the way with all Dwarven holes?” Fairris asked, causing Bārdin to scowl at her.

No more was spoken about Ironwood, and the tension between Fairris and Bārdin continued to grow.

But that was the way between Dwarves and Elves, ever since the dawn of time there had been animosity and disagreement between the races. Lieut recalled the documents he had read on the matter concerning Elves and Dwarves, it had only been a minor point but he remembered it clearly.

Lieut recalled the tale well, and a tale it was for there was no real documentation of the actual events that led to the rivalry between Elves and Dwarves. Their dislike of one another started where most things do: at the beginning.

The High Elves say that at the beginning of time both Dwarves and Elves arrived in Essinendeür. The Elves awoke to see the Dwarves, and the Dwarves saw the Elves. But neither could say for certain who had arrived first. The High Elves went on to indicate that they were the first as the Dwarves were still asleep when they saw them. But the Nirüd dwarves claim that they were asleep because they had been waiting for the Elves to arrive. It was then that the dislike of each other continued on down through the descendants of the High Elves and the dwarves of Nirüd.

Lieut shook his head as he remembered what he had read, it was a foolish dispute to be sure, but that did not stop Bārdin and Fairris disliking one another.

Annoyingly for him the bitter remarks and subtle insults continued on each time they stopped for the night. Every time either Fairris or Bārdin said something the other was quick to berate them.

As their journey together wore on Lieut could see that Vythe was also beginning to become annoyed with the two of them. Neither Fairris nor Bārdin physically lashed out at the other, but he could tell that sometimes they indeed wanted to. This also became very obvious during the time he and Fairris sparred, for each time she would attack with pent up frustration. But her anger never aided her improvement, and on several occasions he told Fairris such, whether she acknowledged his words he could not tell.

During the passing two days, the River Yorna had turned towards the south as it followed the line of the foothills of the Yineth Plateau. By now Lieut could just make out the line in the distance where the ocean met the land. He knew that if he continued straight for the sea he would come across the Northern Longroad that went from Port Na’brath to the Gaianaus capital of Issia. Even now he could make out the pale line of the road as it stretched its way through the grass lands and around and over the slightly undulating terrain. Between the road and the sea Lieut could see the skyline of two lord’s castles standing among the grass with small villages and farm lands surrounding them. Also amongst the hills and grass there were great rugged stones, some standing, but most were just strewn throughout the land chaotically.

“These boulders are remnants of the time of Illendüil,” Fairris remarked one evening as they set up camp at the base of the large rocks. “The Zirariens tell a story of how there once were great mountains in this area where the High Elves lived and built great castles atop the high peaks of the mountains, called Illendüil. But the Gods grew wary that the High Elves were coming too close to the heavens so they destroyed the castles and mountains, leaving behind flatlands riddled with rocks to remind them that the heavens are where the Gods live, not the Elves.”

“What a daft story.” Bārdin was quick to criticise.

“It was then that the High Elves became divided and split into three groups,” Fairris continued, ignoring Bārdin’s remark. “One group going to the High Steep, another going to the hot sands of the high desert of the Crimson Wasteland, and the last group heading to the Foglornt Forest. Respectively the three groups were the ancestors of the Lithinüer in Thienlin, the Zirarien in Anastarā, and the Valenthōr in Gālendress.”

“By Dhror’s beard, I haven’t heard so much rubbish in my life,” snorted Bārdin. “The clan of the Scarred Mountains never recorded any mountains in this region.”

“Probably because it was before any Dwarves lived in the Scarred Mountains,” Fairris retorted.

“They’re the oldest clan, after Ironwood,” Bārdin snapped back, “Been there for many millennia.”

A sly smile came to Fairris face. “Like I said, it was before the Dwarves lived in the Scarred Mountains.”

Bārdin grumbled in his beard at Fairris but he did not continue the argument.

That night they camped among a group of pitted rocks. The night was dark and as always Lieut was left to take the watch. Although the moons did not shine this night, he had no trouble seeing.

The stones atop the downs stood out on the horizon line like silent watchers of the night. Many sounds filled the air, most of which were not the nightly birds or crickets in the grass. Wilder things called these lands home, preying on caravans that moved between The Port and Issia. Fortunately, though Lieut did not think so, the night passed without any assaults on their camp and they made it to the Northern Longroad halfway through the next morning.

As they trudged along the wide paved road the day turned grey and overcast. The heat and humidity made Lieut’s skin clammy and his vest stick to his back. The flies soon became irritating, buzzing around his face and biting his bare arms. Vythe and Fairris did not seem bothered by the weather or flies, probably thanks to some form of magicks. Bārdin on the other hand seemed more irritated than Lieut did. The dwarf jumped around swatting at the flies and trying to squish the ones that bit him with his meaty hands.

A few hours after they stopped for a midday meal the sound of horse’s hooves on the road echoed in Lieut’s ears. Fairris also heard it and turned around to see what was coming from behind them.

“It sounds like a peddler,” Vythe remarked as he squinted into the distance. “I can hear the bells on his wagon.”

“A peddler,” Bārdin exclaimed. “Quick let us move on. We don’t need to talk to the likes of one of them.”

Fairris smirked and quietly laughed to herself.

“Do not be so suspicious,” Vythe replied.

“Liars, tricksters, tramps and thieves, all of them,” Bārdin snorted. “They will use some witchcraft on you and next thing you know you’re giving them all your money for an item that is worthless. And if you begrudge them a deal they will slit your throat in the night and take what they want.”

“Those are the lies, Bārdin,” Vythe replied seriously. “They are just merchants trying to make a traditional living on the roads.”

Bārdin snorted again, but did not say any more.

“I do hope he will grant us a lift to The Port,” Vythe remarked. “My feet are sore from all this walking.”

Soon the pleasant music of small bells filled the air and the clip-clop of hooves brought the old wooden wagon down the road to meet them.

“Greetings peddler,” Vythe called out and the wagon stopped beside them.

“And to you travellers,” the peddler replied. “Can I interest you in purchase from my wares?”

“Only if one of those things to purchase is a seat to Port Na’brath?” replied Vythe with a smile.

The peddler looked at each of them in turn, his eyes lingering on Lieut.

“Alright.” nodded the Peddler. “A gold coin each and I’ll take you to The Port.”

“See? What did I tell you,” Bārdin burst out. “Trying to rob us, he is. A gold coin each, that’s pure theft.”

“You can walk if you wish, Bārdin,” Vythe remarked dryly as he climbed into the seat next to the peddler.

Bārdin grumbled to himself, but eventually he joined Lieut and Fairris in the back of the wagon amongst the peddler’s goods. With even more grumbling Bārdin handed over a gold coin to the peddler before finding a seat.

“You’re an odd company to be finding along the road,” the peddler remarked as they set off. “May I ask your names?”

“You may,” replied Vythe. “I am Vythe  and this is Fairris the Zirarien, Bārdin son of Bain and Lieut.”

“And who might you be?” Bārdin demanded.

“The name’s Tornie Frogman Henry,” replied the peddler with a smile.

“Frogman?” Bārdin asked suspiciously.

“Aye.” Nodded the peddler. “‘Cause I am always hopping from town to town.”

Tornie burst out laughing, to which Vythe and Fairris joined in, and even Bārdin cracked a smile.

“Heading home are you Master Varrintine?” Tornie asked looking towards Vythe.

A look of surprise flashed across Vythe features, and Tornie laughed again.

“Why the surprise?” The peddler chuckled. “I’ve been in this business a long time boy. I know the designs of the leading houses in Port Na’brath. But I am curious as to why you didn’t introduce yourself as such?”

“I have been away a long time,” Vythe stammered, “I thought it would be enjoyable to surprise my family.”

Tornie looked at Vythe curiously. “Your family will hear of your arrival long before you see them, if you go about wearing that vest.”

“Perhaps I should take it off before we come across more travellers on the road,” Vythe remarked offhandedly.

“I have a few nicely designed vests in the back, if you would like to buy one?” Tornie suggested.

“No, thank you,” Vythe said as he slowly unbuttoned his family vest.

“You should know better than to deny a peddler a deal,” Tornie replied darkly.

“Why you, sly, conniving vagabond,” roared Bārdin jumping to his feet. “What did I tell you?”

Tornie suddenly burst out laughing, and he slapped his thigh.

“What’s all this now?” Bārdin demanded angrily.

“It was a jest, dwarf,” said Fairris, a smile on her face.

“Be at ease Master Bārdin.” Tornie smiled over his shoulder. “I will not rob you blind in the night and leave you with nothing but your skin and beard.”

Bārdin sat back down, once again mumbling into his beard, and looking darkly at Fairris and the peddler.

It was hot and humid that night and the clouds were heavy, but they refused to give up the rain. It was not until early morning that the clouds released their hold on the moisture and brought some relief to the travellers.

They had little for breakfast and were soon on the road again, but the drop in temperature lasted only a short while. The rain soon stopped and it became twice as humid and twice as hot.

During the day they passed a few outlying towns that were governed by one of the three lords in the area and Tornie stopped and tried to sell his wares. He sold a few items but many of the townsfolk had grown up with children’s stories that painted peddlers in a bad light, so most were suspicious and stayed away from him.

But none of the country folk in the villages could be as suspicious as Bārdin. The whole time the dwarf sat with his arms crossed, never taking his narrowed eyes off Tornie, as if he expected the man to suddenly disappear with all his possessions.

Dwarves were a naturally suspicious and a secretive lot but Lieut had to wonder when Bārdin began to look through Tornie’s goods, no doubt trying to find evidence of the peddler’s witchcraft.

“By Dhror’s beard,” Bārdin suddenly exclaimed as he pulled an old two-handed axe out of one of the ironbound chests.

“Do I hear the heathen words of a nonbeliever of The Five?” Tornie remarked and he looked over his shoulder.

“The Five are the Gods of Men,” Bārdin snapped back, not realising that Tornie had been joking again. “Dhror is the Father of the Dwarves.”

“I meant nothing by it Master Dwarf,” Tornie quickly replied. “And I see you have found one of the only weapons I carry. You will not be surprised to know it is for sale. For five gold coins it is yours.”

“Where did you get it?” Bārdin demanded, holding the single headed axe in front of his face.

“I did not steal it,” the peddler replied dryly. “It was sold to me by someone, I completely forget who. I have had it for years, no one wants to buy a steel weapon you see, and even if they did that one is too old and blunt to make any real money. See how scratched and dull the axe head is.”

“How dare you,” Bārdin growled back. “This is of Nirüd craft, of the finest crimson steel, forged in the fires of ancient dwarven strongholds by master smiths in the days of my ancestors. This axe has no doubt chopped off the heads of hundreds of Grinlocks, and you call it scratched and dull.”

Tornie looked curiously at Bārdin. “Well, now that I know what I really have. It can be yours for fifty gold coins.”

Bārdin narrowed his eyes at the peddler. “Throw in a good quality whetstone for free and I’ll take it.”

“What?” Fairris exclaimed in disbelief.

“Fifty gold coins for an old axe?” Vythe baulked. “And yet you were loath to part with a single gold coin for a ride to The Port.”

“What’s your point?” Bārdin asked back.

“Dwarves.” Vythe laughed and shook his head, but said no more.

“You are an honest dwarf, Bārdin.” Tornie said sincerely. “Because I did not know of the blade’s heritage I will sell the axe to you for the original five gold and will give you one of my best quality whetstones.”

Bārdin seemed to be taken aback and stumbled over a few words.

“Perhaps I was wrong about you peddler.” Bārdin conceded. “You have a deal.”

Bārdin then untied a large bag of coin from his wide belt and counted out ten gold coins and handed it to the peddler.

“Keep the change.” Bārdin nodded to the old man.

Tornie smiled. “You will find a whetstone in that small wooden chest.”

Bārdin quickly found a good quality stone and sat down and began sharpening the dull edge of the axe.

They drifted by slowly and the wind picked up from the west and blew away the clouds, alleviating the humidity and paving the way for a pleasant afternoon. The sounds of the rattling cart and stone on steel filled the air as the road wound up and over the many small hills. Several roads branched off from the main path and led further to the west and towards small fishing villages that could be seen in the distance.

By that evening Bārdin had made quite a shine on the edge of the axe and was cleaning the steel with an oil rag that he had also bought off Tornie. Now the axe no longer looked like an ancient relic but a weapon ready for battle. Dwarven runes now shone on the long handle and were carved into the flat of the large axe head. Being made from crimson steel there was a feint reddish tint to the metal, but the sharp edge shone with a pinkish hue.

As Lieut sat by the fire that evening he noticed that Fairris kept looking at the axe out of the corner of her eye. This reminded him of another document he had read, which further tried to explain the dislike between Elves and Dwarves.

Both the High Elves and Nirüd Dwarves were excellent craftsmen and created weapons, jewellery and items of incredible beauty. But always the Dwarves had been jealous of the elves’ skill with crafting weapons, and the Elves similarly jealous of the dwarves’ expertise in turn.

Lieut could see such jealousy in Fairris’s eyes now as she looked upon the axe. He could see that she wished that she had twin gunblades of similar make.

It was known that weapons from Fog were a later creation by Men and in ancient times true weapons were made of steel and other metals. Such dwarven and elven weapons were imbued with magickal runes that imparted attributes to the blades. Bārdin’s new crimson axe was far more powerful than Fairris’s Fog gunblades, and Lieut could see that she knew that, and envied it.

Bārdin’s laughter broke his train of thought, and Lieut looked to see the dwarf holding the axe above his head, a wide smile upon his face. The light of the fire caused the weapon to shimmer beautifully and emanate a sense of power.

“Behold, the masterful craftsmanship of my ancestors,” Bārdin announced triumphantly. “Never will you see a better crafted weapon.”

“I don’t know about that,” Fairris was quick to remark. “The High Elves made beautiful weapons, and Lieut’s sword is just as masterful.”

Bārdin looked darkly at Fairris. “No doubt a Dwarf made your sword, right Lieut?”

“No,” Lieut replied absently, his eyes suddenly catching something of great importance.

In the sky above Bārdin’s axe a star was falling with a crimson tail. The burning dot soared through the heavens growing bigger and brighter. Suddenly it was falling towards the earth, evaporating clouds in its wake. The star fell to the ground many miles to the south and east.

“A Godstone,” Vythe remarked as he and the others also noticed the falling star. “No doubt the Magi of Aierthian will claim it.”

“Vythe, you must teleport me to The Port at once,” Lieut said walking towards the man.

“What? Why?” Vythe asked in surprise.

“There is no time for questions, teleport me.”

“Has it something to do with the Godstone?” asked Fairris. “Do you think it might be another Zodiarc stone and you could make another sword from it?”

Lieut shot Fairris a curious look but did not reply.

“Vythe,” Lieut insisted.

“What’s going on?” Bārdin demanded.

“Lieut, I cannot teleport you,” Vythe stammered and looked away.

“What?” Lieut asked angrily.

“Please believe me, that if I could I would,” Vythe quickly apologised.

“The only reason I helped you out of the prison was because you could teleport me,” Lieut growled. “Was that a lie? Was everything you said a lie?”

“Not exactly.” Vythe shifted his weight uncomfortably. “I can cast a spell of teleportation.”

“Then do it.”

“If I do I will die,” Vythe snapped back.

“What do you mean?” Lieut asked, his eyes narrowing.

“When I was lost in the Void those years ago, Elardōre and I discovered that a dark and powerful demon had been imprisoned there,” Vythe explained hesitantly. “We struck a bargain with the fiend and all three of us found an exit from the Void. But Elardōre and I betrayed the demon and left it in there.”

“What has that got to do with anything?” Lieut demanded angrily.

“I am sure that you know that a spell of teleportation opens a gate between two locations,” Vythe explained. “What you probably do not realise is that between those two doors is the Void. This is how Elardōre and I escaped in the first place, and how the demon can seize me if I open a teleportation gate.”

Lieut glared at Vythe unblinking for several seconds, clenching his jaw and fists.

“You still lied to me at the prison,” Lieut stated threateningly.

“Yes I did,” Vythe replied honestly. “But I had been in the place for ten years, Lieut. I would have done and said anything to be free of that place.”

Lieut let out a growl of frustration and turned away, kicking a large rock and sending it tumbling into the coming dark of the night.

There was not much Lieut could do though, he could run there and at good pace he could reach The Port by tomorrow. He looked back to the south where the Godstone had crashed down. Quickly calculating the distance from where it had landed to Port Na’brath he believed he still had time. Perhaps he had overreacted, and in doing so nearly exposed the rest of the group to certain facts.

Lieut sat down by the fire again, his thoughts churning in his mind. The group gave him strange looks for the rest of the night, but none of them said anything. Likely because Vythe and Fairris knew he would not answer, Bārdin probably did not care and Tornie did not know him well enough to ask such questions. But the curious looks remained.

At one point Lieut overheard Vythe and Fairris talking quietly between them when they thought he was not near.

“It was very strange,” Lieut heard Fairris remark to Vythe, “that he suddenly desired to be teleported at the same point we all saw the Godstone.”

“Indeed,” Vythe replied. “But I cannot guess why.”

“Do you think it may somehow be connected to Rathgard stating he and Lieut were on the same side?” asked Fairris.

“How?” Vythe gave Fairris a confused look.

“I do not know,” Fairris replied as she turned back to the fire.

Their quiet conversation stopped suddenly when Lieut walked back into the light of the fire. They both looked at him curiously, but neither said anything.

From there the evening ended quickly, Tornie was already snoring and Bārdin soon joined him, hugging his new axe close to his chest. Slowly Vythe and Fairris drifted off to sleep, and the night drifted slowly by with Lieut constantly trying to decipher his own thoughts and feelings.

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

What was the significance of that God Stone?

It seems Vythe and Fairris are becoming more suspicious of Lieut and have started to wonder what he intends to do in Port Na’brath. How much longer can he keep his motives a secret?

Find out next week.

Thank you for reading and stay tuned for the next chapters as book one of Chaos of Choice comes to a thrilling conclusion.

If you cannot wait for that you can find this book on any good online book store.