Warriors Of Aura, Chapter 1

We are many – the Saru'saken; many that seek 'That Which Was Given' - the power to shape the world as we see fit. Many are they that fail - few are they that succeed. Those that do are remembered in the Chronicles of the Warriors of Aura as heroes – as legends. They are called Eldor Warriors.

The Eldor Warriors will rise again.

Chapter 1: The Restorer

The Plane of Sigma Primus

The city of Cors

He seemed to descend from the setting sun; his cloak flowing as a battle standard. Master Rem'il, for that was his name, rode a creature - a curious beast - one that looked like a holy marriage between a raptor and a mongrel dog. His steed pounced on the bandits' sentry, crushing his heads with its long talon-like toes. Master Rem'il, a middle aged male of the feylin clan, evidenced by his long fiery orange hair with white highlights and  caramel colored skin, withdrew his spear-sword from the sheath slung over his shoulder, and with a strength that belied his stature he batted the second sentry away. He surveyed the rest of his quarries, who were occupied with looting, beating and raping their prey. He steadied his steed as he prepared to attack. Without fear the beast he rode, called a malerok, burst forward, charging at the bandits with a blood curdling roar; he began to slice through them using the blunt side of the spear sword, sending them skyward amid their shouts of terror. The thieves sounded their battle cry, and braced themselves for battle.

They were no match for him.

He rode through them, a storm surge of destruction, striking them with perfect accuracy and deadly strength. Behind him, an enemy took aim with a projectile weapon that looked like a large crossbow; his aim was true, his poise solid. Yet before he could unleash its bolt, he was cut down by another rider, a companion of Master Rem'il, from his blind side. The sword with which he was dispatched, known as a sikarj, was thrown at another bowman, shattering the crossbow in his hand; the force of the hit sent him flying, the sikarj ricocheting into the air. A third rider caught the blade. Now armed with two sikarjs this warrior cut through the rest of the swath. He tossed the blade back just in time for the second to catch it, and in the same motion  effortlessly swat an airborne bandit descending onto him from above into the ground, cracking his back bone. He did not rise again.

The captives watched in awe as Master Rem'il charged at the leader of the band of thieves, his steed roaring with sheer rage. The leader prepared to defend himself, his sikarj poised to strike. The back of the spear sword came down upon him like the justice of the heavens. He was crushed.

The third rider looked similar to Master Rem'il, but much younger, and quite fair in looks: another member of the feylin clan; the young warrior grabbed the fallen bandits and bound them together. The second rider looked different. He was darker skinned, thick, tall and well muscled; an imposing character, most certainly of the oxzor clan. As he helped tend to the wounded they thanked him and his companions. Some fell on their knees and praised them with gratitude. A few whispered and among them and stared at their saviours in awe, frightened by the strength and speed with which their assailants were dispatched. However the younger members could not help but be fascinated.

"Do you speak the common tongue, venerable one?" the Master Rem'il asked as he approached the oldest man among them. The man was dressed as nobles of the time: colorful, rich fabric, some ornaments and a staff. He was lighter in skin tone, with long straight silky hair - a member of the che’rah clan. It was clear that he was the patriarch of the group. Around him were other beautifully attired individuals, most certainly his family members.

"Yes, Great Liberator," the old man venerated him, as did his family. "We are most grateful to you, for saving our lives."

The old warrior was magnanimous. "Helping others is helping one’s self." He looked curiously at the party. "Where do you hail from, my lord?" the warrior inquired.

"We hail from the Enclave of Tavvan, on Icona."

"Tavvan? Of the Province of Merrivan, under the Duke Enyen Leotar?" Master Rem'il confirmed.

"Yes...you are familiar with our home," the leader remarked, quite surprised.

He nodded.  "Indeed. I was once assigned to the Third Imperial Guard, to the east of the enclave."

"Ah," the old man vocalized in acknowledgment.

"And what, if I may ask, would bring a nobleman so far from home?" the warrior inquired further – cautiously, though.

"We are migrants, journeying to join our kinsmen in the Eastern Lands. It is said that the frontier colonies are fruitful and rife with opportunity for those that brave it."

"Certainly," he agreed, turning to watch the progress of the men as they pieced the convoy back together. They had quite a few wounded, mostly the unfortunate members of the guard who were targeted first in the ambush. "There has, however, been an increase of bandits in these lands of late preying on unwary travellers. You would do well to use the main paths. Your guards should send scouts ahead to lookout for raiding parties."

"We will," the man said. He bowed to him once more, then introduced himself. "I am Elder Soren of Tavvan. May I inquire of your name?"

"I am Sarman Rem'il of Anenkar," the warrior replied. "These are my men, Worlox," he nodded towards the young feylin, "and Axon," towards the towering oxzor.

The elder signaled to one of the servants who brought him a small box of exquisite stone jewels. He presented it to the warrior. "Please accept this token," he said, "as thanks for saving my ...," he was cut off by Rem'il graciously.

"I cannot accept your reward for what is my duty," he said in reply. "Your gratitude is reward enough," he added.

The elder understood. "If you find yourselves in the Eastern Lands, know that you have a home to rest your head," he said and bowed in gratitude. The two henchmen had completed their roundup of bandits; they had tied them together in groups of three and four. "What will become of these vagabonds?" the old man asked. “Their heads would be a sufficient price for their chosen profession,” he added with a growl.

"I am familiar with the City Guard of Cors. I will inform them, so they might deal with their imprisonment."

As the three men hastened away, Elder Soren was joined by a young man, one that looked much like him, most likely his eldest son. "It is not often that one sees a mercenary Saru'saken, much less three at the same time," the old man commented to the still bewildered young man as they watched the party head into the distance.

"Our legends speak of the strength of the Saru'saken. Had I not seen it with my own eyes, I would regard it as a child's tale."

"A child's tale it is not," the elder turned to the convoy and signaled their departure.

"What business would  Saru'saken-born have in these lands?" the young man inquired.

"The question one must ask is not what a Saru'saken is doing in these lands, but what a former Imperial General is doing this far from the Imperial Capital."

The three riders were now four as they sped with haste towards the city of Cors; a young boy of the feylin clan rode behind them. They halted, and from the hill they stood on, they surveyed the encompassing environs; trees littered the plain; wild, waist high grass filled the spaces between.

The land they were traversing was not round, but flat. As a planar world, the ends were partially visible through the haze of dust, mist and cloud. If one were to look upon the land from above, it would be an island in the sky surrounded by a sea of clouds.

They spurred their maleroks in tandem, approaching the massive city gates.

The city ahead lay on the edge of the plane called Sigma Primus - the place where the earth joined the sky. Clouds of gas filled the void beyond the edge.

The edge of the plane was where the airships moored before heading further into the plane, towards their destination, or out, into the ether, to whatever adventure lay beyond.

They arrived at their destination not long after they had set out. Over in the distance airships could be seen moored to tall wooden platforms, manned and guarded by scores of men. Their sails bore bold emblems of their owners - mostly merchants and noble men who used them for business and for pleasure, and a few less noble who ferried passengers and cheaper goods. The most distinct of them however bore an emblem well known in these parts, an emblem that brought fear, and awe: the emblem of the Aldon Empire. It was a shield bearing the silhouette of two royals holding up an eight point star. Three other smaller ships were docked around it, bearing a slightly different emblem: four point stars held by armored figures behind which was the image of a sikarj. The warriors paused to take this in, and then proceeded cautiously towards the gate. They cast their cloaks over their sheathed weapons and made efforts to blend in with the people.

"The Sar'sadai are here," Worlox observed.

"Those dogs….what are they here for?" Axon growled.

"I heard word that the Empire has colonized Cors," Rem'il commented. "It appears the emperor seeks to expand his reach."

"With the emperor's open palms, the clenched fists of tyrants come," the oxzor said, looking at the Sar'sadai emblem. "I spit on them," he spat in anger, a look of disdain across his face.

"Your hate of the royal guards at times... worries me, Axon," Rem'il remarked. "They are efficient at carrying out their duties of ensuring the safety of the Emperor and his Dukes. Though their rules and regulations serve the interests of the royals, the fear they instill helps to keep the trouble makers from causing harm."

"...And prevent the good ones from stopping those they will not," Axon corrected.

"Now there, not all the good ones," the old man chuckled.

"I still do not see why you insist we use this port, master," Worlox piped in. "We could have used the port at Kar'atun."

"It is Captain Reni who prefers this port. Besides," he beamed, delighted at the familiar sights around him, "I have friends here I must see before I leave." They looked up at the sign board of an inn that read ‘The Tempest's Dawn'. It was a large structure, the largest in the city. Built of sticks, and clay, like the rest of the city, it was attached to a stable, most certainly reserved for its guests. The stable was tended by many hands; some of them promptly took the reins of the animals from the visitors as they alighted. "Fermar," Rem'il greeted the lead hand as he came to welcome him.

"Master Rem'il, my lord! Welcome!" the man said with a tone of delight in his voice. He was a roden man, half Rem'il's height, slim, quick and nimble. He spurred the workers with hand gestures. The young boy that had traveled with them helped Rem'il with his bags. Fermar looked at the baggage. "It must be that you are returning home."

"Yes, my friend. My sojourn on Sigma Primus has come to an end," he said. When Fermar reached for the last bag, a long cylindrical bag, slung across his chest, Re’mil stopped him; he was about to explain, when the sound of drums and the cheer of a crowd erupted in the distance. They both looked towards the sound. "Is there a festival today?" he asked, as he once again concealed the bag in his cloak.

"You have heard word, certainly, that Cors has been annexed by the Aldon Empire. The new Governor arrives from the Imperial City today. Many are here to see him. A few of our guests, though, have been stranded by the closing of the ports."

"The ports have been closed?" Rem'il said. "I see." He sighed. "With all this confusion it would be hard to find the Captain," he said to his men. "In any case it was our Intention to rest here tonight," he decided. "We will seek him tomorrow." He turned back to Fermar. "How and where is your master, my good friend Lord Ger'ek?"

"He is in good health. He is now with the other council members, waiting to welcome the governor."

"As should be done..." "Take care of the maleroks," he said, patting his steed. "They belong to a friend, lent to me for my journey here. They are to be returned by his trusted servant here," he warmly shook the boy by the shoulder and ruffled his hair. "Rest them well. They have tired in bringing us here. Use this," he handed him bronze coins. "Share what is left with the boys."

"Master…" Fermar was taken aback by the vast amount he had received. "Most certainly, Master Rem'il," Fermar replied in delight. "Thank you," he bowed in respect. "Thank you, master."

"Here," he handed one coin to the young boy. "Get yourself something to eat, and rest yourself at the inn. Worlox and Axon will see you off tomorrow morning." As the boy ran off, he turned and looked towards the city square. "Let us see the one this festivity is about."

Rem'il and his company headed off into the city. The center of the city held the local marketplace. All roads lead to and from it. Traders with their wares, farmers with their produce, and merchants with their shipments flocked to this Mecca of goods, to obtain coin and other valuable items in exchange for their produce and wares. Besides the marketplace, there was an open field, undoubtedly reserved for functions, such as one that was to be held today. Most of the stalls were empty. The function grounds were however filled with people.

As they headed towards the market, they passed by guard stations manned by city guards, modestly dressed in leather-like armor, and royal soldiers, dressed in elaborate, well padded white and gold plated armor. The city guards would nod at Rem'il in recognition; the Sar'sadai however, eyed them in suspicion. Worlox returned threatening gazes at them. They arrived at the edge of the crowd that had lined the main street; the crowd jostled one another to catch a view of the governor. Rem'il and his men found a spot, a set of crates on which a few people stood. Rem'il mounted one to get a better view; Axon towered over most of the people, and could see clearly. Worlox strained his neck to see over their heads. The royal guards had formed a line along the perimeter of the road. They forced the people back, and threatened anyone who tried to pass with the tip of their spears. Then the place erupted in cheers as a convoy of floating carriages passed by, guarded on each side by Imperial Guards on maleroks. The convoy stopped at what was a pavilion set at one end of the courtyard. Many of the city's dignitaries sat beneath the embroided canopies. Only a few of the seats were empty most certainly reserved for the VIP's that had just arrived. The guards opened the doors of the carriages, and royals alighted one at a time. The last one to alight was a handsome young royal, with a long fiery red mane, adorned in white satin with golden embroidery. He held in one hand a crafted gold staff with a red gem at its head. He nodded to the people and they cheered him. He settled in the throne reserved for him. The band of drummers  began to play, and the dancers and fire weavers put on a display. The crowd cheered them on, and the royals applauded them; all this while Rem'il gazed at the face of the royal as if trying to remember him.

"You recognize him, master?" Axon asked.

"Fer'ed Anar Leotar," Rem'il said, "the young son of one of the most powerful men in Aura - the Emperor's brother-in-law, Lord Fer'ed Asan Leotar."

"Another pampered overfed royal to lord over the weak," Axon lamented.

"What more do you expect, with no one to challenge the might of the Leotars," Worlox added.

"That will not be for long," Rem'il said, with certainty. "That will not be for long."

They lingered there, and watched the amazing displays of drumming, dancing and fire juggling to the end of the show.

"What became of the Eldor Warriors," Councilor Iyamar, a che'rah man, mourned in a druken stupor. He downed the contents of his drinking bowl, drawing cheers from the men. "More!", he shouted to no one in particular, and then proceeded to try and pull his long straight hair away from his face.

"You have had enough my friend," Councilor Ger'ek, a more dignified che'rah man, said to him, a look of disapproval in is eyes. They sat in the courtyard of the inn, under a tree, with  many others. Among them were Master Rem'il and his men. Each man held a drinking bowl. At one end of the courtyard, women were tending to large pots of food. The courtyard was filled with travelers from all occupations: traders, farmers, sailors, peddlers, showmen, bounty hunters, fighters for hire…. They mingled and conversed over bowls of brew, served freely in this seemingly festive atmosphere.

"What indeed became of the Eldor Warriors," Councilor Menar said. He was a pikurean man, most definitely: fat arms, fatter thighs and a large belly; folds of fat beneath his chin. His breathing was heavy and laboured. Yet he did not seem to be out of breath.

"Master Rem'il," Iyamar indicated toward the warrior. "You are a student of their History. What became of the once great protectors of the lesser aldon?"

"Very little is known," he replied, "of what became of the last Eldor Warrior. There are legends that claim he once lived in a shelter not far from this city. I have searched, but found nothing to suggests its veracity."

"Indeed," Ger’ek echoed his sentiment.

"Master," Menar said, sitting up, "as a student of the Eldor Warriors and their ways, would you say that their absence has caused a shift in power, and the decay of the rule of justice and equity?"

Iyamar concurred. "Indeed, the tension between races and clans is at the highest it has been, and lawlessness is on the increase. My grandfather talked about a time when his father could talk to any member of another clan freely, and with no fear. Now the clans seem to hate each other more, and eye each other with suspicion."

"What we are asking is," Menar concluded. "Are you seeking to learn about them, or is it your intention to bring that power back?"

Ger'ek got a bit tense, as he looked worriedly at Rem'il. Clearly, it was not a question that should be asked. Rem'il however was unperturbed. "I am a student of the Eldor Warriors, as one whose grandfather's grandfather was one of the last Eldor Warriors. The rule of the Eldor Warriors is remembered fondly in the stories of our elders. However they willfully disbanded after helping to establish the Aldon Empire. They did that to support the rule of the Leotars. To restore Order of the Eldors would be to challenge the Empire and all the royal families of the clans that support it. That would be treason, punishable by death," Rem'il stated ominously. "To answer your question: I would need to be as powerful as the Eldors were I to restore their rule."

The two councilors found his answer intriguing, and were about to probe further when they were distracted by a server. Gracefully, a young strikingly beautiful maiden, also a che'rah undoubtedly due to the long silky hair that flowed down her back, strutted by with a large gourd of drink and drinking bowls, and all eyes gravitated towards her - except those of Ger'ek.

"Ah, Tikeem," Rem'il said as he recognized her. "Your daughter blossoms in beauty each time I see her," he said to Ger'ek.

She smiled - she was shy. She topped up his bowl of brew, his two henchmen's as well. Worlox and Axon stared at her beauty without blinking an eye.

"True, just like her mother did. May her essence rest with the Five Gods," Iyamar asserted.

"How many the suitors have you had to keep at bay today," Rem'il teased.

"Hmm, she does a better job at that than I do. She has turned down a prince, and three nobles, at my last count." She shot a look towards her father in disbelief that he had once more brought this up among his friends. "It seems her desire is to live with me until my gray head returns to the Halls of K'aku"

"Perhaps she would be suited to one of your men?" Iyamar joked, gesturing towards the young henchmen.

"Yes. Worlox here is a fine young man," Rem'il replied, patting him on the shoulder, and they laughed at the jest.

"She is yours any day," Ger'ek replied, unmoved. Having finished serving them, she took leave. She did however turn and smile at Axon, who had still not taken his eyes off her. Worlox poked him to tease him. He shrugged him off, embarrassed.

"Ah, leave these young ones to their business. They enjoy chasing one another," Menar said.

"Much like you did in your days," Iyamar teased.

"So I take it you are returning at this time, in order to attend the Emperor's New Year celebration, the Equivar?" Ger'ek changed what was for him an annoying subject.

"Indeed I intend to be home in time for this one," Rem'il replied.

"Ah…. it is, after all, the Aldon Emperor's twenty fifth Equivar on the throne," Ger'ek asserted.

"Twenty fifth? Ah, that is why he gave his nephew an entire city!" Menar exclaimed. "I was telling you this earlier. It is apparently a gift from the emperor to him."

"Or an attempt to get him as far away from the Imperial City as possible," Ger'ek joked, and the men laughed with him.

"A present that may come at too high a price for the citizens of this town," Rem'il said with a look of worry. "The city council was too easily moved by the Empire," Rem'il said.

"Indeed. His inexperience will bring problems to the council. The Sar'sadai's presence will scare our reptilis friends from using this port from henceforth. You know how the two empires view each other as eternal enemies," Ger'ek complained. "Despite all the grand gestures and treaties that have been signed, the Aldon and the Reptilis empires still fight."

"Indeed. We have lost many friends to this decision. Yet our hands were forced, by threats from the Reptilis Army," Menar added.

"Aye... The Reptilis Army has been increasingly aggressive. They threatened to run this city over, if we refused to pay a tribute to them," Iyamar said. "Our good friend Regnar was close to the reptilis general. He claims rogue elements within the army were responsible for those threats. However little was done to restrain them."

"The council could have at least appealed to both Tiberyus and Ilas'nar to reign in the Reptilis, for the sake of trade," Rem'il said.

"Alas, it was not to be," Ger'ek said. "The Empire was quick to offer full protection, and a monopoly on shipments to Icona. The Airis emperor has no interest in a colony. Besides, the Aldon Emperor is his god-father. They will benefit from the trade as well."

"The measure passed with little resistance," Menar added. "We were the only ones in opposition." They sighed, depressed by the thought of the prospects of imperial rule. "The greatest of the free cities is now an emperor's plaything."

"Perhaps, if Master Rem'il was still living with us," Iyamar said. "…perhaps we would have been saved, were you still around," Menar said; Rem'il scoffed at the idea.

"The people still speak of how you single handedly defeated an entire company of thieves," Ger'ek said in praise. "Our city has never been safer than in those days that he was here," he said to Worlox and Axon.

"I only did what any half decent man would do," Rem'il responded.

Iyamar smiled. "You are too modest, Master Rem'il. Indeed," Iyamar said to the two men, "your master is a legend. The Nomad Warrior: that is what the people of this land once called him. Many years ago your master was passing through on his way to Karatum, as he was wont to do. Around this same time, a group of vagabonds thought it wise to seize control of the city. They bribed a few guards, and laid siege to this town, demanding a large tribute in exchange for our freedom. Your master took it upon himself to rid the town of these scoundrels. He attacked them and cut them down to the last man. The thieves fled the city without a dime, never to return. Over a hundred men...!"

"They were only forty-three," Rem'il corrected. "And I employed the help of the loyal guards, I did not do it on my own," Rem'il assured them.

"Paaaah! It is a feat worthy of mention in any of the Chronicles of the Warriors of Icona," Ger'ek declared. "If only there were more men like you."

Menar sighed. "In our time who can we turn to?" he said.  "Only those with coin can afford justice. A mercenary will only protect a man of wealth."

"So who do the poor look to, for protection?" Ger'ek said.

They sighed, depressed by the very thought of it.

"It will not always be bad. Cors has survived worst. It will most certainly thrive as it always has," Rem'il declared.

"May Cors endure to the end of time," Iyamar toasted, and they all responded and drank.

The quiet of night settled on the harbor city; lights were quashed from one part of the city to the next as residents retired to bed.

The ever vigilant Sar'sadai patrolled the streets around the royal residence, hands on sikarjs, ever ready; ever prepared to pounce, honed by years of training, shaped by the constant need to defend their charges - especially when outside their home domain.

One particular guard was on his route when he spotted movement in the darkness of an alleyway. He braced himself against the wall. In a single movement, he drew his sikarj and stepped into the alley way. It was quite dark - pitch black. He, however, sensed a presence, a sinister entity, somewhere in the shadows of the alley. He took an offensive stance.

At the other end of the alley, a bright fire lit up the face of the mage that held it in his upturned palms.

Axon was awoken suddenly by the explosion that, though faint and distant, shook the sills of the windows. He instinctively rose to his feet, blade in hand, prepared for anything. Looking around the room, he saw the master and Worlox peacefully asleep. He relaxed, shaking his head at his unease. He never liked being in a new place.

He heard another sound. This time it was shouting. He went to the window, and looked towards the far end of the town. There was the sound of shouting, and lights.

"Worlox...Worlox!" Axon shook him awake.

"Huh….what?" the sleepy feylin asked.

"Wake up you lazy oaf," Axon said. "Something is happening," he said, looking towards the window.

"What hour is it?" the sleepy one mumbled, sitting up.

"It is your hour to get up. Something is happening near the ports. We have to investigate." He said looking outside.

"It is probably nothing," the feylin mumbled, turning back to sleep.

"Worlox…Worlox!" The feylin man ignored him. Exasperated, he left the room.

The oxzor descended to the courtyard and leapt to the roof of the inn, in a single bound, landing with a lightness that belied his size. He surveyed the area, taking note of all that seemed unusual. To his right he could see the brightly lit palace of the governor. Around him most of the town was in darkness, faintly lit by the light of the stars. There seemed to be quite a bit of activity and noise coming from the governor's palace.

Then he heard a sound. It was coming from the inside of the building. He moved quickly to the inner edge, and looked down into the courtyard, hugging the shadows to remain hidden. A figure in black passed through the courtyard, up the stairs to the next level and into one of the rooms. He tried to get a glimpse of the face, but only saw the long hair of a woman. A woman dressed completely in black. The woman turned in his direction. She did not see anyone, yet still felt that she was being watched. In the light of her torch, he could see her face: it was the innkeeper's daughter! After she had ensured the coast was clear, she set down the light, tied her hair, and retrieved a cloth from her pouch, and wrapped it around her face, leaving only her eyes. She killed the light, then climbed out the window and leapt almost ten meters into the air, landing silently onto the roof of the building opposite to where she stood.

"Saru'saken ... !," Axon muttered in surprise.

She surveyed the area, looking towards the end of the city where the ruckus seemed to originate. She headed in its direction. He waited for her to move a little ways away, then leapt after her.

He had a hard time keeping up. She was lithe and quick, but his trained ear heard every faint sound she made as she glided over the roofs of the houses, and at times, under the eaves. As they neared, guard patrols on the ground increased in size and frequency. By this time he was certain of her intentions. He sighed heavily, and pursued her further.

They neared within a couple of blocks from the palace. The girl had slowed her pace and was more careful and silent. Axon could not hear her from his distance and so he moved in closer. He sped up slightly and paused, listening for her. He decided not to continue to pursue her, as they had now reached two streets from the walls of the governor's palace. Around the palace, guards were mobilizing, as if in search of someone - the reason for all the lights. The oxzor stayed well hidden in the shadows, and watched as the woman tried to circle to the other side. His heart skipped a beat when he noticed the silhouette of a guard, in black garb, crouched on the opposite edge.

Tikeem was so excited by the thrill of what she was doing that she did not notice the guard as she passed him. The guard did not want to be hasty in apprehending her, and was cautious, so as not to scare her off before he could pounce. He was ready. She had stopped on the edge of the roof, surveying around her. His sikarj was drawn. He was ready to run her through with one quick stab. Tension built up in his muscles, yet the well trained guard was focused, and calm, making not even a single sound. He raised his sikarj. He was ready to strike.

In that moment Tikeem felt a presence at her back. Her eyes widened in fear, and she anticipated the strike, believing it was her last moment. Then there was a soft thud; the oxzor had slammed the head of the guard into a beam of the roof, cracking it. The thud was soft enough not to gain the attention of those below. Slowly he secured the stilled body and remained quiet, waiting to see if they had been heard. He looked in the eyes of Tikeem, both of them visibly shaken by the narrow escape. At that Tikeem tried to get up, but the weight of her body could not be supported by the piece of thatched roof she held in her hand; she slipped, and the piece  fell to the ground.

"Run!" the oxzor warned.

They had barely made it over the roof of the second house when guards appeared behind them, in hot pursuit. One of them weaved a ball of magical fire and shot it at them. It barely missed, exploding in the side of the house on impact.

Many more guards had mobilized on the ground and were racing to cut them off. As Axon leaped towards the roof of the next house, Tikeem grabbed him, pulling him with her and they fell into a pile of hay in the middle of a stable. The guards passed overhead onto the next roof, without noticing.

"They lost us," she whispered.

"Not quite so," Axon said. "They will back track and search for us."

"At least it gives us a chance to plan a proper escape." She was flushed with fear and excitement. They waited until they could hear no noise, except for the rustling of the livestock. "We have to find a way out of here," she told him.

"Not yet," Axon said. "They…." They heard loud knocks on the doors. They could hear the royal guards questioning the occupants. "They are going door to door, searching for us," Axon said.

"Follow my lead," she said after a while, having surveyed their surroundings.

"You must move out of our way! We must find and apprehend the culprits," the guard was saying to the house owner, flanked by a bevy of equally angry servants. They had arrived at the house attached to the stable, and were speaking to the owner.

"Is this how the empire will treat us? Of all the years I have been in Cors, there has never been a time the city guards would disturb citizens at night, and then dare to question them."

"If you do not move out of our way, you will be arrested for aiding in treason..." They were startled by a loud crash and moved out of the way of the maleroks as they sped out of the barn in fear. They watched as they sped in all directions, into the night. "Men," the guard captain signaled, realising they could not continue the search in all the commotion; they shuffled back towards the governor's residence sullen, leaving the servants exasperated and bewildered as the creatures galloped into the night.

The two slowed their maleroks as they approached the inn. They set the maleroks free and entered the inn. They headed for the kitchen. Axon collapsed on the nearest stool. He pushed aside the shreds of garment and looked at a cut on his leg.

"Oh my," Tikeem said, when she saw it. "Let me have a look at it."

"It is just a scratch," he said.

"You are bleeding, let me look at it," she insisted. "You must have injured yourself as we fell from the roof. I am sorry," she said. She hurried to kitchen returning moments later with water and a cloth. She gently cleaned the sore and applied pressure to stop the bleeding.

"You do not have to," Axon complained.

"You do not have to act so tough." He sat quietly, they both did not utter a word as she cleaned and bound his wound.

"Thank you," he simply said, when she was done. She sat down, and sighed with relief that the ordeal was over.

"I owe you my life," she said to him. "I never thought I would face death like that," she said, then laughed. "See how that man screamed at the guar…."

"What were you thinking?!" he scolded her. "You would have been killed by the guard, had I not been around. Yet you laugh so light heartedly!"

"I meant no harm," she said defensively. "I only did this for the thrill of…."

"You risk your life? For cheap thrills...?!" Axon scolded. "I..." he gave up, exasperated by the ordeal. He rose from the seat and headed towards the room. He turned his head and looked at her angrily from the side. "A Saru'saken should not use the Given for cheap thrills."

She was perplexed, sat there for a while, watching as he limped back towards his room. She sighed, and then arose to return to bed.

Axon stretched as he awoke, and found Worlox standing over his bed, fully dressed, with all their baggage at his feet, arms crossed. "I see you had a good night last night, outing with the innkeeper's daughter."

He was quick to arise. "What hour is it?"

"Relax, we just arose," Worlox assured him. "The master asked me to ready our things. We have not heard from Reni yet, as such he wishes to head to the port to find out what has kept him." He looked at Axon. "There was a bit of commotion around the Duke's residence. You would not know anything about that, would you?"

Axon sighed. "Does the master know?"

"Not yet. I have yet to decide to tell him," he threatened.

"That girl, the innkeeper's daughter has Saru'saken blood; she has the Given. We were close to the governor's abode when the guards spotted us."

"The Given?" he asked as if he did not believe him. "Not the gift of pleasure?" he teased  him.

"I indulged in no such pleasure," he said as he dressed. "I followed her to find out what she was up to."

"Whatever you say, prince charming," Worlox continued his teasing.

Axon ignored his mockery.

They descended to the courtyard to find Rem'il enjoying a hearty breakfast with the innkeeper. Few other guests had risen; the place was virtually empty.

"Good morning, lads," innkeeper Ger'ek greeted them. "Come join this lovely feast."

"Our host has graciously prepared a meal for our departure. After the meal we will go to the port and seek passage to Icona. Reni must be running late."

They sat down and began to help themselves, sharing in a large bowl of a starchy, thick paste, brown soup, covered in large meat portions. "Good morning, my lords," Tikeem said, bearing drinks for their feast to their table. She looked apprehensively at the oxzor as she laid the contents of her tray before them. Worlox chuckled.

"Thank you, friend for all your hospitality."

"You are always welcome here…" There was a loud banging on the tavern doors. "Of course, you need only knock, not bang like whomever is disturbing us this morn," he chuckled. The banging ensued again. "I come, I come! Take your time, life is not a race…" he held his tongue as soon as he recognized the figure behind the door. "Why did I not know that it would be you, Firek, disturbing me and my guest at such a time?"

Firek was cold. "Your time has little worth to me, councilor, especially right now," he barged in with three other similarly attired men, a commander, and a contingent of royal guards.

"And what threat do you bring to me this morning, along with your posse of fawning servants?" he said with spite as he closed the door, smiling menacingly at the other councilors with him.

"By order of the Governor, you are requested to follow us for questioning."

"Questioning?"

"Yesterday two men were arrested, in an attempt to harm our most excellent Governor, the Duke of Ictares. I have witnesses that saw these men in your inn two nights ago, speaking with you."

"After all your attempts to take what is mine, you would go so low, Firek."

"Most excellent Councilor," the commander spoke up. "We are not accusing you of anything; we merely wish to question you."

"He most likely told you of my protest against the council joining hands with the Empire, of how I open the doors of my inn to reptilis traders."

"Again I say we make no accusations. We only wish to speak with you."

"What is going on here?" Rem'il joined his friend at the door. "What is the matter?"

"We are taking the councilor in for questioning, sir. That is all," the commander said, after a momentary hesitation. He seemed to recognize Rem'il.

"Whatever those men told you is a lie. I have stayed here many nights and talked with this fine man, and have found him most honorable. He would never harbor or connive with criminals."

"This does not concern you. It is him we want, not you," Firek interjected.

"What is going on?" Tikeem said, coming to the door. Worlox and Axon joined them as well. "What is this, father?"

"Do not worry dear. Get me my outing cloth and staff."

"Father?" she looked at Firek. "Why? What has he done?"

"Last night there was a disturbance," Firek said; Tikeem contained her fear. "Nine men were captured, attempting to enter the residence which housed his eminence, the Duke. The two that led them were seen here at the inn." He grinned menacingly. "It seems your father's secret life has come to light." Tikeem looked at Axon, relieved that they were not there to arrest them. However, she feared for her father.

"Two others attempted to enter the area after them. They escaped after knocking out a guard, and were seen heading in this direction," the commander added. Tikeem gulped. She looked at Axon, who did not budge. Worlox glanced at him, also worried.

"They could have been heading anywhere. No one saw them come here," Rem'il argued.

"Councilor, I implore you make this easy on yourself and come with us and answer a few questions. As soon as it is over, I will escort you back," the commander said.

"No," Tikeem defied them. "He is innocent of any crime. I will not let you touch him."

"Young girl, please do not force us to…"

"It is alright. I am coming with you," he said, holding his daughter back.

"Father..."

"Get me my coat and staff. Hurry..."

"Father...!"

"Now!" he ordered her. Reluctantly she obeyed.

"There is no need for this," Rem'il said. "He has done no crime. You can question him here."

"Stay out of this old man," Firek threatened.

"You will not speak to my master like that," Worlox challenged, stepping up to him defiantly.

"There will be no rash action here," the commander said, as his men gripped the hilt of their sikarjs and prepared to draw.

"Worlox…," Rem'il warned. "You are only making things worse..."

"I am only protecting you master," he said, still eyeing the guards. "Do you know whom it is you talk to?" he continued.

"Worlox, that is enough," Rem'il growled.

The rash young man paid no heed and continued, "The man you see here is Sarm'an Rem'il, at one time most honored guard and General of the Emperor's armies. You are not even worthy to breathe his air."

At that the guards shifted with unease. "My lord," the commander said in recognition. He fell to one knee, unsheathing his sikarj, stabbing it in the ground, tilting the hilt in his direction, his face bowed down. His men did likewise, "I…I was not certain it was you," he stammered. "I served under you fourteen years ago, in the third regiment..."

"Rise, commander. That is not necessary," Rem'il said.

When he had arisen, the commander looked towards his men, and then sighed. "I would let him go, on your word, my lord General. However, our orders come from my lord the Governor himself. We cannot disobey it."

"Indeed I understand," Rem'il said. "My only wish is that he is treated with the uttermost fairness."

"I will personally see to it, my lord General," the commander replied.

Tikeem arrived with the cloak and staff.

"I will be fine. Take care of the inn while I am gone," Ger'ek reassured her, taking his staff from her.

"Father…" she said, but he would not listen. "If he comes to harm you will pay for this, Firek," she growled in the man's face.

"My, my, Ger'ek... your daughter's inability to find a husband has made her forget her place. Please remind her of it, before I do," he chuckled, to her anger.

"Take care, friend," Rem'il said, worried as he watched him being escorted away. "Worlox," he said, turning to the young man still flushed with excitement as soon as they were some ways away. "I am honored that you think so highly of me," he said sarcastically, "however if you truly do, then you will respect my words and keep that rash, brazen attitude of yours in check. Is that clear?" he rebuked him.

"I...I am sorry, master," Worlox said; though his blood still boiled, he could not help but feel a bit of shame.

"Master, we must help him," Axon implored, with an audibly worried tone in his voice.

"There is little need for worry. He is a Councilor, and has many friends in the council. He has nothing to fear."

"Nothing...?" Tikeem said almost in tears. "I know Firek. He has done all he can to depose my father, and lead the council. He will do anything to get rid of him." She left them in anger. Rem'il looked worried, but remained unconvinced.

"I fear for him, master," Axon reiterated. At that moment, he decided to confess. He stood before his master, and abruptly dropped to his knees, head bowed in shame. "The two ‘others' they were talking about," he looked up, and then looked away, unable to face his master, "…that was his daughter and I…"

"Axon…," Rem'il said in exasperation.

"I know master," he spoke sincerely, his eyes begging for forgiveness. "I followed her; I had awoken to investigate the commotion. I believe she was doing the same. I had to protect her from a guard that had been lurking in the shadows. I feel we may have incriminated him."

Rem'il watched as they escorted him away. He knew he had to act, yet his desire to remain inconspicuous stayed his hand. He looked one last time - this time at the accuser, Firek.

He had a grin of satisfaction on his face. Rem'il recognized the look, and his expression changed to one of anger and resolve.

"Let's go," Rem'il indicated to the men, and they headed out after them.

They arrived at the barracks of the city guard. Some of the royal guards had set up base there, and were interrogating witnesses. The city guards looked on helplessly, disgusted by the rough treatment of the cities citizens. One of their officers recognized Rem'il as he entered. Excited, he rushed to welcome him.

"Master Rem'il," he said as he knelt to him. "I was told you were in the city, but alas my duties prevented me from seeing you."

"Captain Morgen," Remi'il said as he quickly and humbly brought him to his feet and greeted him with a firm grasp of the arm, "you need not worry. I was told by Councilor Ger'ek that you would be busy. I sent my greetings through one of the guards, and told him that I would not stay long, so you need not bother coming to see me."

"Ah, but my lord I cannot. A lord of your stature must be received with honor. I was on my way to see you this morning, when this incident occurred and marred my day." He surveyed the area, a look of disgust on his face. "I do not know which is worse: an attempt on the Emperor's nephew in my city, or the litter of royal mutts unleashed on the people."

Rem'il smirked. "They usually have little to do. They tend to get overzealous when their existence is justified. It will die down in a few days." He continued to survey the activity in the barracks. Some of the Sar'sadai officers took notice of him. Some whispered in recognition. "Any idea though of what may have happened?"

Morgen shrugged. "No one knows for sure. The assassins were outlanders. Three were killed, the others were wounded; they have them imprisoned on the airship. They carried no possessions, except their coins, and their weapons. Mage-born... They killed three guards before they were apprehended. One of the guards caught the first culprits trying to blow a hole in the residence wall, and raised the alarm. The others were caught in the bed chambers of the governor. The governor had, fortunately, opted to sleep on the ship."

"Hmm," Rem'il pondered. "A clever tactic: distract from one side and attack from the other. They were experienced." He considered the matters at hand. "The Sar'sadai believe that someone must have hired them.

"The outer planes are known for harboring dissenters of imperial rule," he asserted, to which the others agreed, "and Cors was known as a great stronghold for such minds. It could be anyone. Yet treating the people with a harsh hand will yield no result. It would only serve to feed the feeling of dissent."

"True," Morgen agreed. "There is suspicion that the hand of the council was forced by threats from Tiberius as well as from the Reptilis. The people did not wish for this."

"Something has to be done," Rem'il resolved, "or the governor would have more than nine assassins to deal with."

At this point a senior ranking Sar'sadai officer emerged from one of the rooms, led by one of the officers that had been eyeing Rem'il. He pointed in his direction. The senior officer recognized him and approached. Worlox recognized the officer as well and smiled.

"My Lord General Rem'il," he said on arrival. He and his men kneeled, saluting him in the same manner as the soldiers from earlier in the day, "I am Cap…"

"Aramir Fer'is Gen," Rem'il recognized him, grasping his arm to lift him up, with a warm smile. "How is your father?"

"He is well," he replied with a smile.

"Still churning out that delicious cider I presume," Rem'il asked. "It is good to see one of my men with such high responsibility."

"It has been long, Worlox Arm'in," Fer'is said to the feylin. They grasped their right arms and embraced in the manner of brothers.

"It is good to see you again brother," Worlox said. "You are a Captain? It seems the Guard has been good to you."

"I am only doing my best in following in the footsteps of our venerable master," he said, bowing in honor to Rem'il. "Would that I could impress you with some of the knowledge you taught me, but it is not I that run the show. The Grand Marshal accompanied the Royal Party, and it is he that commands us." The name of the Grand Marshall visibly worried Rem'il, and the others noted it with a bit of worry as well.

"Kruga…." Rem'il muttered. "This chaos would be his handiwork. Kruga is never one for military tactics." He sighed. "Then it is worse than I presumed." He looked around. "Undoubtedly one of his lads has reported my presence to him. He is still on the ship?"

"Yes my lord."

"Take me to him," Rem'il said. "Have your men take a break. Captain Morgen," he called to the guard, "the people will be agitated by all these events. Someone may know something, and would be holding their tongue in fear. Have your men ask around. You may find something of interest. Worlox, Axon, go to the Inn, and find out which room they slept in. Bring me all the items you find that should not be there." They nodded in acknowledgement of their assignments and set off.

The Imperial vessel was nowhere to be seen at the port, however one of the Sar'sadai ships remained. Activity was at a standstill. Rem'il looked to one of the numerous vessels that had been grounded. Royal guards were stationed at the entrance of each of the docks. Dock workers and sailors alike had been rounded up to one side of the port; they could be seen arguing with their guards. "So that is why I have heard nothing from Reni," he thought. A scuffle ensued, forcing the guards to beat on the troublemakers. Rem'il sighed and shook his head.

They entered the large command center of the ship. Posts had been vacated, and the sailors replaced with Sar'sadai officers pouring over intelligence reports and debating tactics. They looked up at Rem'il, some in surprise, some in disdain, and the others with indifference. They all however reverenced him; since these were the more senior officers, though, they did not kneel, but bowed their heads, cradled their sheathed swords like a child in their arms, presenting the hilt to him in salute. At the center, in the ship captain's seat, was a brooding old man, who like all the officers on the deck, was a feylin man. He was of similar age to Rem'il. He sat listening to a briefing from one of the commanders, unimpressed. The commander stopped mid-sentence when he saw Rem'il and his escort. The general turned to see who it was, and waved off the commander. "One may ask why I am not surprised to find you here," Kruga said. He stood up to face him. "You always seem to find your way into some kind of trouble. That may lead one to think you are the cause," he said.

"That is why I am saving you the trouble of coming to find me, old friend," Rem'il responded. "Grand Marshal…" he was about to kneel in respect to him, however Kruga was quick to stop him, having nothing of it.

"You cannot kneel to one that is a brother," he said, as he grasped his arm and embraced him. Kruga laughed heartedly, yet Rem'il merely chuckled awkwardly. "Think what you will, but I am relieved to see you here," Kruga said.

"Who else but I to clean up yet another of your messes," Rem'il smirked.

"You of all people know that I am not one for military operations. The politics of the military - that has always been my strong suit."

"Except for that one time you defended the his the Emperor single handedly, against elite reptilis infiltrators," Rem'il ridiculed.

Kruga was not impressed. "All these years and you still hold it against me? I told you, I did not think you survived…" Rem'il held up his hand to cut him off.

"You were never one to take a personal joke," he chuckled.

"Indeed," he replied, still uneasy."Walk with me," he instructed, as he walked to the viewing window and looked out towards the city. "Just like the first time you and I came here with his Excellency."

"It has not changed as much." Rem'il remarked as he joined him.

"I have never liked this backward dump," the general blurted. Rem'il looked at him, slightly peeved by the derogatory remark. "It is nothing but a consort of uncouth, rowdy, indisciplined outcast, feeding off the misled notion that they are free, benefitting from the unwillingness of the other races to raise our military ire." "It did not last long, though," he said to Rem'il. "One small threat and they came begging to us. So much for anti-imperialism, eh...?"

Rem'il turned towards him. "So what is the Grand Marshall of the armies doing here, with one thousand Sar'sadai? I know his Excellency is fond of his nephew, but that should not warrant the personal attention of his highest officer."

Kruga smirked. "I was bored of the Imperial city, and wished to come have a look at life outside the Imperial domain."

"He asked you to come, did he not?" Rem'il asked.

"Now, now," Kruga warned, "you chose to leave the business of his Excellency. Do not go probing where you are not needed."

"My life is still about the business of his Excellency. I left the Imperial Guard, not his service."

Kruga looked to him and sighed. "It still is a mystery to all of us, why you left. And there are rumors," he drew near and lowered his voice, "that you have been traveling through the land, gathering a band of…'masters'…." He looked to Rem'il as he  looked out at the city. "You would not be trying to resurrect the Order of the Eldors, would you?" he said, with a hint of a threat in his voice.

Rem'il was a little tense. He however chose to ignore him, continuing to stare out the window. "You may not like this place, but his Excellency would be displeased if the goodwill of these people is lost." He turned to face the General. "Call off the hounds," he implored him. "If you believe that the instigators reside in the city, let me lead the search. You may then do what you do best, reassure the leadership. The nobles are worried about a backlash from the citizens. A mass exodus would dent the image of the Empire after colonizing the first free territory."

Kruga sighed. He looked around, at the men who were still busy going about their work, and at the city outside the viewing window. He motioned to Captain Fer'is. "Issue a directive: I am temporarily reinstating General Rem'il. He will lead the investigation. Give him your full support." The captain nodded. He bowed to Rem'il with a smile, and went off to bark the orders. "One day, Rem'il," Kruga said, handing him his imperial seal. "One day."

Rem'il smiled with relief. "Perhaps I will do it in less," he joked.

Kruga scoffed at the notion, and the other commanders chuckled in amusement. "Unwilling as I may be to instruct you in your investigation, I would suggest that you start with supervising the interrogation of the assassins."

Rem'il found himself at the cell located in the belly of the vessel. He watched in disgust as a mage used a spell to inflict unimaginable pain on one of the assassins. The other lay motionless in the corner, chained to the bars. The totured criminal could take the pain no more and collapsed.

"Wake him," the interrogator, said taking a break to massage his tired palms. His assistants administered a healing potion to the assassin and revived him. The interrogator was about to resume when Rem'il spoke up.

"That will be enough," he stepped in with authority. The mage was taken aback, yet when he saw the captain urging him to obey with a stern face, he relented. "You may leave the prisoner. I will speak with him now."

"As you wish," the mage graciously said, recognizing Rem'il's rank. He and his assitants exited, leaving the guards, Rem'il and Fer'is with the assassins. Rem'il approached the conscious one and offered him water. The assassin drank it greedily, having been denied any for so long.

Rem'il allowed him to satisfy himself, and pulled a stool to sit. The assassin, though grateful, recoiled and took a guarded position, prepared, it seemed, to go to his grave in silence.

"There are three groups in these lands that are capable of such an audacious attempt on the life of a royal prince," he said, ignoring his stonewalling, lecturing those present. "The Sons of Zeniah, a rebel group seeking the overthrow of imperial rule; the Iron Bearers, mercenary killers; and the Jor'an Clan," Rem'il continued, watching his behaviour at the mention of each name. He seemed to flinch at the mention of the last name, the Jor'an Clan. Rem'il probed further. "The Sons of Zeniah brand their assassins beneath the ear," he said, getting up for a moment; he checked for the mark. "You do not bear it," he remarked, ruling out the first group. "The Iron Bearers and the Jor'an Clan do not mark their acolytes," he continued to probe. "The Iron Bearers give an iron badge to each initiate. I however doubt that their assassin would carry such an  incriminating item. I also doubt that they would use such a small party against an imperial candidate. Their work, as I have witnessed is much more refined." This seemed to draw the ire of the assassin. Rem'il also took note of this. He walked over to a heap of items: weapons, a cloak, and a curious looking trinket. Rem'il seemed convinced when he saw the trinket. "The Jor'an Clan are more brash and callous. They also have a distrust for those that seek their aide." He picked it up and signaled the captain. "I have what I need," he said. "Let us go to the inn."

Fer'is, though uncertain of what had happened, followed him out as flabbergasted as the rest were by Rem'il's utterance.

Rem'il arrived at the inn with Captain Fer'is and a contingent of local city guards. Axon was at the gate, and rose to meet him. Worlox was with him.

"Master," Axon said, with a smile. "When I heard the damned guards were withdrawing from the city, I knew you had once again worked your magic." He looked to Fer'is. "I mean no offence to you."

"No offence is taken," Fer'is replied.

"It is good to have one of our own on the inside," Axon acknowledged with a smile.

"Mmm," Rem'il agreed. "What did you find?" he aked, going straight to business.

"We found what we believed to be their room. We found nothing of interest though, except these two items," he showed him a small sack with an insignia, and a trinket similar to the one Rem'il had picked from among the assissin's possessions.

"The trinket," Fer'is said when he recognized it.

Rem'il nodded. He was troubled, though, at the sight of it. "This is a magical token; the insignia on the sack is that of the Jor'an Clan. They are a local gang of ruthless, miscreant mercenaries. They are sikarjs for hire, and would carry out assassinations if the price is right. The group was started by a rogue Sar'sadai, a warrior mage by the name of Ehibor. They are well trained and equipped. I have had to deal with their kind before.

"Rumor has it that anyone who hires them receives this token and the sack. They pay one half of the fee; when the job is done, the rest of the payment is left in this sack along with the token."

"It is a tracking token," Worlox realized; Rem'il acknowledged this.

"Their origin makes them fear those that hire them. They instruct that it should never leave ones side until the job is done. That way they can keep an eye on their employer, until the job is done."

Fer'is opened his eyes in realization of what Rem'il had deduced.

"Their employer left this here, to incriminate Councilor Ger'ek!" he exclaimed.

"The employer may have found out that Ger'ek has been apprehended for questioning, and brought this here," Worlox put forward.

"Indeed," Rem'il agreed. "The perpetrator would not want to be caught in possession of the token. By leaving it here, they would further implicate Councilor Ger'ek, and rid themselves of any evidence. That fact in itself is very disturbing."

"Only a few of the high ranking councilmen and the most senior guard officers know that Ger'ek has been arrested," the captain explained. "His popularity among the citizens could lead them to revolt, if word got out," Rem'il nodded in confirmation.

"Then there is only one suspect," Worlox concluded. "That Firek snake... The councilor's daughter said he had it in for him. He no doubt brought this here."

"True. It however is not enough proof." Rem'il considered their next course of action. "I must question Ger'ek's daughter. She would know if a council man or his charge was in here."

Tikeem was sitting in a corner of the courtyard, sobbing, surrounded by the other women of the inn, and some of the servants, when they trouped in. They moved out of the way, allowing Rem'il to see her.  She quickly wiped her eyes and turned to him. "Tikeem," Rem'il said gently. "Are you alright?"

"I am fine, my lord. I just have something in my eye," she insisted, hiding her sadness.

"I understand how you feel," he said resting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "I need to ask you some questions. It will help us find out who framed your father." She sighed, and ceased from her labor, and turned to him, cheering up at the prospect that her father was being helped.

"What do you want to know, my lord," she said as she wiped her eyes.

"Has anyone, other than guest, been to the tavern since we left? Another councilor, perhaps?"

"No," she thought. "I have not seen anyone … Councilor Iyamar!" she suddenly recalled. "He was here earlier. He said he had heard what had happened, he wanted to know if I was alright."

"Did he stay long?"

"No… only a brief moment."

"Where were you when he found you?" Rem'il probed further.

She thought for a while, "I was in here, cleaning up and getting ready for the next meal."

Rem'il was still suspicious of the councilor. "What about the others," he asked the other staff. "Did you see him go to any of the rooms?" The staff mumbled among themselves. One spoke up, an older lady.

"I did see the servant of the lord Councilor," she said, "going towards one of the chambers. I did not question him. It was his personal servant," she stated.

Rem'il and the others were convinced. "Iyamar….We must pay the councilman a visit," he said with regret.

Iyamar lived not too far away. Rem'il, accompanied by his men, and a few guards entered the abode. He asked the men to wait at the entrance as one of Iyamar's servants led him and the captain to the study. Fer'is waited at the door, as he entered, shutting the door behind him. Iyamar looked busy, reading a scroll. "Master Rem'il," he said without looking at him. "You catch me at a bad time." Iyamar seemed relaxed, Rem'il noticed.

"I must apologize, councilor, but I need to speak with you," Rem'il expressed his regret.

"With a contingent of guards at my gate?" Iyamar said, feigning annoyance. Rem'il took notice, but did not react. "I heard the word," Iyamar looked up for a brief moment, "that you have been reinstated to look into this sordid affair, General."

Rem'il ignored the comment. "They found him in possession of a trinket belonging to the would-be assassins." He showed it to him, watching him carefully for a reaction. Indeed the councilor was for a brief moment nervous, fearful of his implication. Rem'il caught the reaction. He looked at the trinket, acting confused. "I have seen many things, yet I do not know what it is. Perhaps it is familiar to you."

Iyamar hesitated before he took a look at it, pretending to carefully examine it. He shook his head. "I have no idea what this token is."

Rem'il took notice. "Strange, that you would call it a token." He had caught him. "Unless you knew exactly what it is." Iyamar broke into a cold sweat. He remained indignant, however.

"It…it looks like a token of some kind," he stammered.

Rem'il approached him. "Why did you do it?" he confronted him.

"What do you mean? I do not understand what you are talking about…" Iyamar insisted, fumbling as he returned to reading the scroll. His hands began to shake.

"How could you betray a friend? Your own friend and ally...?"

"Betray a friend? How could I… Who have I betrayed?"

"You had the nerve, to go to his home to leave this." He placed the token back in his hand. "His daughter saw you hide it. She told me." Iyamar was speechless. "I am not here to put another man in the hands of the Sar'sadai," Rem'il said, drawing closer, "away from his family. I simply want to help Ger'ek, your friend and mine, out of a bad situation. I can make this all go away. Just tell me. Who put you up to this?"

Iyamar was nervous, and remained quiet, looking distant as he thought about his current predicament. Realizing he had been caught, he gave up and confessed. He stood up and looked out the window, quietly pondering his error, sadness written all over his face.

"I…I never wanted to agree to this," he finally spoke. "He threatened my family."

"Who?"

"Councilor Firek."

Rem'il was disappointed. "Why, Iyamar?" Rem'il begged to understand.

Iyamar sat back in the chair. "It should never have gotten this far." He turned to Rem'il, and appealed to him, "You have seen it yourself, what the Imperialist and their dogs would do to this city. Something had to be done. You have bled for this city. You know its value, and the value of keeping it a free city. We had no choice. ‘Strike the leader with terror, and the followers will scatter.' If the emperor's nephew died a terrible death, they would leave, and never come back."

"Was Ger'ek involved?"

"No. Menar and I approached him on the subject, but he would have nothing to do with it. He said it would only bring their wrath upon us. We needed more support, so we turned to another Councilor. We figured he would have something to gain from this. We did not know he was in league with Firek. He had been promised a large piece of the trade from Iconius. He agreed. We did not know he had sold us out to Firek. Firek confronted us on it. Ger'ek has the heart of the people. With him gone, Firek would have no difficulty winning over the masses, and preventing an exodus. We had no choice at all."

"You always have a choice. You could have called off the contract."

"He threatened to expose us…!"

Rem'il sighed. He looked away, saddened by the choice he had to make. He signaled to Captain Fer'is by knocking on the door once. "Unfortunately I have to make a choice." The guards poured in, and took hold of a frightened Iyamar. "And my choice is not to let an innocent man die. I am going to have to turn you in."

"Master Rem'il….no please! You gave me your word!" Captain Fer'is came in with the guards and dragged him out, amidst protests. Rem'il looked away, in regret.

Kruga looked on as the two councilmen were hauled onto the ship. "You really mean what you say," he said to Rem'il. "Less than a day…a few hours even." He turned to him. "The empire needs you, Rem'il. Come back home. Come back home to Tiberius. Whatever it is you seek, I doubt you cannot find it there."

"The empire will always have my services if they ask for it," he said. Kruga could argue no more.

"Then at least travel with me. You are undoubtedly coming to Iconius for the celebration."

He looked away, as a crew of sailors approached him. He smiled at them, and they smiled back. "I have a way back." He stretched out a hand to Kruga. "I wish you the best, old friend." Kruga reluctantly took his arm.

"And I, you, brother," he replied. He signaled to his men, and left.

Captain Fer'is bowed to Rem'il in honor. "It was an honor serving under you once more, my lord General. I will always tilt the handle of my sikarj to you," he said, before turning and following the Grand Marshall.

"Master Rem'il!" the feylin ship captain said to him, upon arrival. "I must say, for one that has been out of the imperial domain for so long, you still have a lot of pull. When the Royal bastards let us out of detention I knew we had you to thank!" he said grabbing his hand and bowing his head to it. Rem'il patted the young lad on his back.

"Well, Reni my good man, the old soldier never sheathes his sikarj. Those ‘bastards' still owe me a great deal," he grinned. "So with the ban lifted I suppose we can leave?"

"Yes, master," he said, just as Ger'ek emerged from the jail, and Tikeem ran to embrace him, in tears, "however I was told there was going to be a party. After the day I have had, I could use some good wine!"

Ger'ek looked towards Rem'il with gratitude. He smiled and bowed back.

As he stood in his chambers on the airship, Kruga watched as Rem'il, Ger'ek, and the rest of their party headed out. There was a knock at the door, and a guard in all black entered. He wore a helmet with a crack at it side - at the very side Axon had struck the guard at when he saved Tikeem. "Is it confirmed?" he asked him.

"Yes, lord Marshall," he said taking off his helmet to reveal a battled hardened, well scarred face. "His men have grown in power," the feylin soldier acknowledged. "It seems they are rediscovering the secrets to the power of the Eldors."

Kruga nodded. "Inform the council. We may need to speed up our plans."

The airship departed, heading into the clouds.