Private Tales Face Towards the Sun

[Alistair Krixus]

They had been traveling for nearly a week on the trail of a spy for the rogue Archon Gilram. The spy had slipped up in Vel Anir after attempting to flip a Vigilite plant. Once the identity was confirmed, it was sent to the Archon hunting squad created by Dreadlord Zana. It was finally the opportunity that Alistair Krixus had been looking for to prove himself within the squad. Then it had to go get ruined by being partnered up with the last person he wanted to work with.

A small part of him had believed Zana had made this decision to torture the both of them, but as Alistair had time to think on the trip, the reason was far more obvious. The squad had been created to hunt rogue archons, there was no place for bickering on such a team. If Alistair and Henk could not work together out here chasing a spy, then they would be outright liabilities during the real dangers.

"Vel Hetren is up ahead, it will be out last chance to catch this guy before he slips away into the Savannah." Speaking quickly to his compatriot.

He did not even glance at his fellow Dreadlord. In fact, he had tried to say as few words as possible because any extended conversation usually just led to awkward silence or outright arguments. Alistair could at least recognize that he played a big part in that as he had still not forgiven Henk for leaving. He wondered if that was a little hypocritical seeing as he had forgiven and let Edric escape weeks ago. However, at least he had the decency to stay gone, this somehow felt worse.

They had long passed the comfortable forests and trees located closer to Vel Anir, as by now the flat and barren plains of the savannah were becoming more dominate. There was no shade or cover in sight, nowhere for reprieve and nowhere to hide.

The sun was particularly unbearable that day as it blistered down onto the lands below, but Alistair barely noticed it. One of the bright spots of being blind was that he did not really have to care about the glare anymore.

"Strange that he is heading east. I didn't think Gilram had anyone located within the plains."

He was speaking his own thoughts out loud, only realizing that he had opened himself up to conversation.

Henk

 

[Henk]

Henk could handle the sun. It was his lifeblood, it fueled the magic that had become his only constant companion in the last half year. Even as the heat baked his skin, a thin sheen of sweat coating the back of his neck and the shaved parts of his head, Henk simply took it within him, allowed himself to soak in the uncomfortable warmth of the arid plains that surrounded he and his partner on their approach to Vel Hetren.

It was the tension between he and the man he traveled with that was far more unbearable.

"If I've learned anything about him, it's that there's few places he doesn't have eyes in." He replies, eyes narrowed and hands on the reins as he lounged back in the seat of the small wagon they'd appropriated for their task. "That this one is so desperate to elude us suggests he knows more that Gilram doesn't wish us to be privy to."

This was the first time he'd spent any considerable amount of time with Alistair Krixus since the spiteful round they'd had in training. A friendly bout it was anything but: Krixus still harbored ill will towards Henk for his temporary abandonment of the Republic. He couldn't blame Alistair for that; The choice he'd made to run was one that haunted him every night, both for the shame it had brought him and the friendships it had severed.

If Alistair wished to loathe him, Henk would not stop him.

Henk had stopped wishing for forgiveness at this point. With the isolation of his friends and family shunning him he'd thrown himself entirely into his training and duty. All that the scar-faced man had left was his want to silence the man responsible for the schism of his class in the first place.

Were this a step towards that end, he would endure every ounce of tension necessary.

"Do we have any intelligence on the target?" Henk closed one eye, looking over at Alistair with his remaining one as they rolled nearer into town. "I don't suppose he gave our Vigilite friend his detailed biography before he fled, but it'd be nice to know who I'm... Who we're dealing with."

There was to qualm to be had in working with Krixus, but Henk did not expect him to jump to his defense in a fight, and at the moment he just wished to be do away with this absconder so he could return to his solitude. There, at least, the only one who loathed him was himself


Alistair Krixus

 

[Alistair Krixus]

True, Gilram's networks were vast, but this was supposed to be one of those few places. If it was true he did have people out here, then the counterintelligence network set up out here was not aware or prepared to handle the matter. Or and even worse thoughts clouded his mind, the network may be corrupted and hiding Gilram.

"From our records, they never got as high as third-level Dreadlord. Worked as a currier and sabotage specialist. His specialty has something to do with manipulating friction."

The man had been rather unremarkable which was partially why the Vigilite had not rooted him out sooner. Gilram's members tended to lean towards higher achievers who had more to gain from his elitist rhetoric, but such ideas could find purchase with anyone.

"There are a few contacts in the city that we can ask questions on if there has been anything strange in the past few days."

It would be a good opportunity for Alistair to check on the infrastructure of the Vel Hetren network. Either they would be able to help them, or they may need to be purged. Either way, Alistair was knocking out two birds with one stone.

"If we can help it, the population should never be aware this was a problem." Letting the pointed reminder hang in the air.

Henk

 

[Henk]

Henk couldn't help but smile at Alistair's little bulletin that he tacked onto the end. The man bit his tongue, but he was implored to suggest that the Republic had done about as good of a job keeping the conflicts as of late secret as they had sniffing out their target before it was too late.

"Even a third-level Dreadlord is something we don't want running rouge in a busy town." Henk shifted uncomfortably, having come to realize how arbitrary the level-system could be, especially when it came to late bloomers. "You're right, Vel Hetren is deep territory for one of Gilram's. He'll expect pursuit, and know we're coming."

Being not nearly so tapped into the Republic's dealings as Alistair was, Henk knew little of the counterintelligence program, and what it entailed. While he'd been allowed to go on missions, any career progression beyond killer-for-hire was more or less out of the question for him, due to his previous actions.

So much for that Proctor job he'd been eyeing before Graduation.

"We should divide our tasks." Time was of the essence, and Alistair was more learned on certain things than he was. "You can meet our contacts, see if anybody in the network has an inkling of our friend's whereabouts. I'll sweep the city, see if I spot anything unusual and herd away the curious."

Alistair Krixus

 

[Alistair Krixus]

At least they could both agree that this needed to be handled. It was why they had been sent, but even without that, letting this spy run around out here on the border could not end well for Vel Anir. Places like this had enough trouble dealing with the foreign powers much less internal conflict.

"Let him know we are coming. We just have to be fast about it at this point."

Henk was right that their target would be aware of them. The time for slow caution was over, as it would only lead to the spy slipping through their fingers. This needed to be done quickly.

Alistair was hesitant to accept Henk's plan to divide up the work in such a way, if primarily just because he did not trust Henk without keeping an eye on him. However, Alistair quickly reminded himself that such childish reservations would only lead to failure.

"Agreed, but let's not make contact unless the both of us are there. Otherwise, the target may manage to slip through our fingers."

Henk

 

[Henk]

There was a small nod of agreement given back to Krixus. If the two of them had anything at all in common anymore, it was their shared professionalism; Neither wished to allow personal animosity to taint what should otherwise be a relatively simple assignment. They'd both faced far worse, after all.

"Ideally, we should meet at a central location when our tasks are complete, but in the event that circumstances prevent this, we'll need a signal." Vel Hetren wasn't a metropolis, but it wasn't small either; Simply calling for each other wouldn't do. Reaching into one of he pouches affixed to his belt, Henk retrieved two small glass vials. Plucking the stoppers from the both of them, he uses a finger to fire a small, concentrated bolt of light into each one.

"Here." Henk handed one of the vials over to Alistair. "This will work as a single use flare. Uncork the vial and it will shoot up into the sky with a plume of smoke. That should be enough to find one another in a pinch." It almost resembled a small faerie, zipping about within the glass, pulsing as though it had a heartbeat.

As they passed under the archway of the city gates, Henk slowly rose to his feet in atop the wagon, his eye following a bit of commotion at the bunch of stalls dotted along the gates in attempt to draw tourists. He couldn't make much out from here, but there was shouting.

"I suppose this is as good a start as any." He grumbled, sliding halfway out of the cab, turning back to Krixus. "We'll meet back here when we're done, the fates allowing it." And with that, he dropped from the cart and set off to investigate the ruckus.

Alistair Krixus

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Alistair accepted the glass vial of light quickly stowing it away in a small leather pouch. The flare would certainly work to get attention. If Alistair wasn't already blind, he had a feeling that staring at a small ball of sunlight in a jar would have him squinting for the rest of the day.

Henk slipped away with little fanfare after that, probably for the better as Alistair continued his ride into the city. The place was packed and there could already be several eyes on them and Al would have no way of really knowing.

Al had to play the role of a visitor to the city at first, which meant wandering around sightseeing for a few minutes and buying a few random wares. That also led him to pass by a small store closer to the center of the city that sold what looked to be very poorly made garden statues.

"That is a choice."

Alistair mentioned as he entered the building, the headquarters of the Vigilite information network in the city. The store was poorly lit, an absolute mess, and only a single old man sat at the counter...It was designed to be as offputting as possible.

"Hello, I'm looking for something that will tie together my garden...maybe an eagle, or a hawk?"

The designated code words being used to not himself as Vigilite and for what purpose he was here for.

Henk

 

[Henk]

Henk would have preferred to blend in with the crowd, especially given that he was supposed to be hunting a purportedly dangerous individual. Alas, there was no concealing himself as he moved towards the rumbling market. As densely packed as it was, if the Dreadlords scarred and intimidating face didn't cause him to stick out, then the wide berth the crowd gave him upon taking a single glance his way certainly did.

It was all he could manage not to roll his eyes as the rabble dispersed around him, parting like the seas in some bedtime story. At the very least, the opened space made it immediatly clear what had caused the commotion in the first place;

A merchant's stall had been vandalized. Well, perhaps vandalized would be putting it lightly... More accurate to say it had been smashed into wooden splinters, the random baubles knickabrack tossed about in heaps. The owner of the stall hadn't fared much better: A slim and wiry fellow lie on his stomach motionless amidst the debris, wrapped in simple robes and wearing a cloth wrap around his head.

Henk shook his head. Something had gone terribly wrong here. Stepping closer, he dropped to one knee, the crunch of wood under his weight muted by the murmurring crowd as Henk turned his head to regard them.

"I don't suppose anybody saw anything?" He asked more out routine than anything, far from expecting help from these nosey pedestrians. True to expectations, there were only more murmurs and the shake of a few heads. Typical. Henk turned back to the poor bastard on the ground and reached down to grasp his shoulder and roll him over. The corpse offered little resistance, coming to a rest on it's back with a shocked expression still frozen on it's cold, clammy face.

What drew Henk's eye, though, was something clutched in the man's hand. Reaching down to pry open the stiffened fingers, he retrieves a small, ripped scrap of parchment rolled tightly into a small tube. Unravelling it, Henk reads the words printed on it's face and...

"That's... Intruiging."

Quickly pocketing the paper, Henk reaches down to the man's head and yanks the wrap up and over his ears.

His pointed ears.

Alistair Krixus

 

[Alistair Krixus]

One thing that quickly became apparent was that the agent before him knew nothing about their target. At least, that's what the average person would have been led to believe, even an average Vigilite member. It was unfortunate that Alistair was the one here, otherwise this might have worked.

It took a few minutes of inquiry, but everytime Alistair would ask certain questions, he would catch just the smallest flicker of magic hanging on the man. It took a few more minutes of specifically looking for the magic before he understood what it was. It was memory magic, someone had wiped this man's mind, or more specifically, had the memory completely removed.

Quickly realizing the problem, Alistair asked to see the records kept within the building. He was led to the backroom and it was quickly obvious that several periods of records were missing or manipulated.

His fears had come to pass, this branch of the Vigilite had been compromised. Likely by a single member who had become a turncoat for Gilram.

"I need a list of all members at this location. Initiate a Cleanse on the whole branch."

The old man looked aghast for several seconds, primarily for what that meant. It would mean they would have to call in a Vigilite specialist to review all members here to ensure secrecy. Likely, most members would get reassigned to new locations even if they had not been involved in the failures.

The man knew not to complain, as there was nothing that the Vigilite took more seriously than a compromised outpost in their intelligence network.

"Right away...I'll send the message."

Alistair took one long look at the list of members given to him. Thankfully, there were only three as the Vigilite often focused on quality over quantity. With the names memorized, he left the building and hurried to find Henk again.

What he expected would take some time was now completely useless to him. They were essentially on their own.

Henk

 

[Henk]

It took far longer than Henk would have preferred to fully disperse the remainder of the onlookers, and even longer to convince the local guards that eventually turned up at the rumblings of a murder at the market that this was Dreadlord business and they needn't be involved. The guards were less than enthused about a sudden homicide with Vel Anir's finest involved, but there wasn't much they could do about it.

Then came trying to put together some sort of timeline of events. Most everyday folk milling about the scene were reluctant to speak of a murder, even less so to a Dreadlord. The public trust was something that had always come at odds with Dreadlords, but this was more a matter of there still being a killer on the loose that stayed their tongue.

Nevertheless, he was able to gather a few basic facts.

• The merchant who'd been killed hadn't been seen around the market until very recently, in the last week.
• He was selling useless bits and bobs, but was a nervous fellow, always looking over his shoulder, and very firm on his prices.
• Nobody had seen any struggle, at least that was willing to say as much aloud. There was a shout, and the elf collapsed through his stall with an incredible force.

Coupled with the fact he'd seen no visible wounds on the body, aside from the ones inflicted from his fall, poison seemed a likely cause of death. Then again, he knew more than a couple Dreadlords who could have pulled something like this off easily.

He couldn't do anything without Alistair, either way. Henk retrieved the vial of light from his pouch, bringing his fingers to the stopper. Just before he pulled it loose and released the flare stored inside, he spotted Krixus headed back his way.

Well, either his part of the job had gone unprecedentedly well and the target was already in custody, or he'd hit a nasty brick wall in his investigation. Henk hoped for the former, but expected the latter.

"I've got... something here." He gestured back to the crime scene. "Don't know if it's explicitly related, but an elven merchant with twitchy fingers shows up at market, and a week later drops dead? Seems a bit coincidental to me." Holding out the scrap of paper, he can't help but smirk. "Blindness aside, how's your elven?"

Alistair Krixus

 

[Alistair Krixus]

What in the fu..

It did not take long for Alistair to find all the action, just from the gathering crowd. Once he did, he knew something was up as Henk was right at the center of it all, so much for keeping a low profile. Even some of the guards were involved, so...a crime? As long as it wasn't their own.

"I've got... something here."

Yeah, he can very well see that. Alistair was already tracing the crime scene with his magical eyes and not seeing much out of the ordinary. The large crowd was also making it difficult with their own auras mixing, meaning he would need to take a closer look if he wanted answers.

He wanted to explain his own situation, but better to handle what was in front of him first. Alistair excepted the piece of writing while activating his magical eyes so that he could read, while answering back in elvish.

"Not as good as it once was, but good enough."

Henk

 

[Henk]

If anything, it spoke to Henk's faith in Alistair's capabilities that he gave the blind man a scrap of paper to read. Krixus might have lost his sight, but he'd gained so much more than that in the meantime. Turning back towards the poor, dead elf. Henk scowled at the returning onlookers, like walking vultures coming to peck at a fresh carcass.

"These people aren't lacking in shame..." He grumbled, resting his arms over his chest. "Nothing from your contacts, I take it?" Henk scarcely believed he'd have returned by now otherwise. That meant the little scrap of elven was the only clue they had, and it could be totally unrelated. Still, that an elf, dressed so out of place and in the open had been murdered at just the moment they arrived searching for a fugitive? It seemed too coincidental to him. "Worst case, we cover the exits of town and prepare for a nice long stakeout. I'd rather it not come to that, though.

Henk held back a snort, the idea he had anywhere better to be than posted up at the city gate checking every wagon and carriage that passed through. It wasn't as though there was much to look forward to at home, was there?

"So, what's it say?" He looked back over his shoulder. "The target is a courier, right? Maybe he specializes in little strips of elven." It'd be more of a lead than they already had.

Alistair Krixus

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Alistair's face scrunched up in confusion as he stared at the strip for several moments before glancing at the dead body and then back to Henk.

"Your elf seems to be a fan of philosophy. It says, 'The Pride comes before the Fall.'"

Even though he had already translated the words, but there was something that Alistair still seemed bothered by.

"Your man might be bad at his own elven language." He mumbled absentmindedly as it was clear that Alistair was deep in thought about something.

He finally remembered that Henk had asked him another question and Al sighed in response, "The branch was corrupted...memory magic. There was no way to know how deep the rot went so best to assume we will not be able to request their assistance."

Hopefully, that would be some other members' job to handle the cleanup for the Vigilite cell in this city.

Henk

 

[Henk]

Memory magic? Gilram's spy was a Third-Level with a specialty in friction manipulation. Altering memories was in another tier altogether, certainly beyond the scope of their mark for this mission. For a moment, Henk found himself creasing his brow. "So, the spy had some help? What would you wager the possibility is that there's more than just one of Gilram's fanatics with eyes on us here?" If the Vigilite Cell was compromised, there wouldn't be too much to stop them from settling in.

"It's possible this scene here is a red herring." Henk gestured back to the body. "A random act of violence, just happening to coincide with our arrival. That being the case, we're wasting time."

Still, something about the phrase written on the strip seemed to gnaw at Henk just as it did Alistair. Turning around, he looked over Krixus' shoulder at the scribbled sentence. One didn't need to speak elven to see that the writing was rather sloppy. Was it from haste, or...?

"I don't believe it was our elven friend who wrote this. It looks too much like the mangled elven that the Guardsmen post in the Quarter back home. Somebody gave this to him, or he found it on his own." He'd learned the look of Alistair's gears turning, and he could see the Rune Knight's mind at work just the same. Henk wondered if he was coming to a similar conclusion. "Either a message for him, or somebody really didn't want anybody reading this..."

Alistair Krixus

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Henk had given voice to one of Alistair's most immediate worries which made his frown worsen. Their target was not capable of memory magic, but even more so, the number of Dreadlords that could corrupt an entire Vigilite Cell was few in number and they were well monitored. It was likely they were dealing with at least a group of four if he had to guess.

"It would be best to assume we are dealing with an entire cell if they were able to infiltrate the Vigilite even if they had the help of a turncoat."

The bad elven script could also have been a result of hurry or, as Henk suggested, a secondary language speaker but something was still wrong. That made sense for why the writing was so ineligible, but...

Alistair pointed to the elven word for pride, "It's...capitalized, but not just like normal capitalized. Elves have a way of capitalizing a word when they are referring to a proper noun...This isn't referring to the sin of pride, but some singular thing."

He began to speak quicker and more frantically after the second pause as he finally realized what the problem was that was bothering him.

"Oh, and there too. The 'Fall' has the same thing."

It wasn't philosophy, those were referring to a specific person, place, or thing.

Henk

 

[Henk]

"Wonderful." The sarcasm practically dripped from Henk's lips as an armored hand pinched at the bridge of his nose. "It's bad enough we may have an entire troupe of Gilram's finest nested in this city, but they're into riddles too." Code-speak. It was smart, especially when leaving a paper trail. Henk couldn't say he was surprised; An Archon of Gilram's caliber would know better than to hire sloppy help.

It was good, though, that Krixus was here. Henk would have missed that little detail, and the phrasing on the paper would have been lost on him completely. Still, it didn't leave them with much. "So we have two names." Henk crossed his arms and closed his eyes in contemplation. "The Pride and The Fall. The first comes before the last, in some capacity, and we have no clues as to what they refer to."

They needed more-- They couldn't just go around asking the locals, unless they wanted to risk alerting those they sought to apprehend.

It was infuriating, this feeling that they were being toyed with, led on a string by some unseen hand. Henk felt his teeth grinding as he racked his brain, a foot impatiently tapping on the paved ground.

"A Pride is a group of lions, could refer to the cell itself..." A stretch, perhaps, but not an incredible one. "The Fall... There's a distinct lack of waterfalls this close to the savannah, it's the middle of summer... The only thing fallen is this poor sap here."

Alistair Krixus

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Henk's logic was sound, but it still felt a bit unlikely. Just a cell calling themselves, The Pride, that just felt a bit cringy in Alistair's own head, but some people were just losers so it was hard to tell. As for the Fall...

"Maybe there are some other strange or unique landmarks that may have the name. Maybe if we spoke to hunters or trackers that normally explored the area."

By now, the area had been largely cleared out, but their need for the body was likely done. They needed to leave so as not to continue being the center of attention.

"Let's check out one of the back alley taverns and see if we can find someone to talk. We can give the body to the guards and tell them to keep it preserved if we need to come back to it."

The idea was that the two of them were now potentially outnumbered by who knows how many rogue Dreadlords and other agents in the town. It suddenly felt like the web they were stuck in was much larger than they realized.

Henk

 

[Henk]

Henk didn't particularly like the idea of poking around for leads in a city potentially up to the rooftops in rebels, but they didn't have a whole lot of choice. There was a chance they wouldn't even be allowed to leave the city without a fight, depending on how deep the puddle of shit they'd just stepped into was.

"We'd better stick together, too. If we're outnumbered, splitting up is asking for a headache." In truth, Henk's initial assertive command for them to divide was partially born out of a desire from space for his former friend, but given the situation they now found themselves in, he couldn't bring himself to find much malice anymore.

Disengaging from the body and finally turning to make tracks out of the market, Henk flipped the hood of his cloak back over his head.

"There's a pub that's popular with bounty hunters on the west side of the city." He'd checked in during his... 'hiatus', hoping for some easy money. "I've worked with the owner before, so he might be more inclined to do us a favor." As much as not ratting them out to anyone who might be offering money for their untimely demise could be considered a mere favor. To Henk, it seemed as good a start as any.

Alistair Krixus

 

[Alistair Krixus]

A raised eyebrow showed that Alistair was likely thinking the same thing Henk was when he mentioned the pub for bounty hunters. Even without his sight, his eyes could be plenty expressive. The fact was, Dreadlords did not spend a lot of their time with bounty hunters, but Henk had not always been a Dreadlord.

"Agreed, best to assume we are already being hunted." he acknowledged, following after his companion.

By now, the news of the murder would be spreading quickly, not only to the perpetrators but also to the average citizen. While Henk chose to pull up his cloak to hide his identity, Al slid a finger over a rune on his clothing, and the colors of his clothing shifted. Another illusion appeared that shortened the length of his hair and slightly changed the color.

He explained, "Never been a real fan of cloaks."

It did not take long for them to make it to this Pub with Henk's guidance and, in Alistair's opinion, this place definitely looked like the place bounty hunters would hang around. Yes, he did mean that as an insult.

"Remember ask for any landmarks that might be called the Fall...and go ahead and ask about the murder. It almost certainly has already reached their ears."

Henk

 

[Henk]

Henk acknowledged Alistair's magic only with a dismissive shrug. There wasn't much point in trying to hide himself; with an appearance as 'distinctive' as his, anyone who was going to recognize him already would have. But there was, perhaps, a bit more to attatchment to the seafoom cloak than that.

"It was a gift from a mutual friend." He muttered as they ducked into the network of alleys and substreets that weaved around the main roads like a spider's web. "That, and the armor. I was surprised you didn't recognize her craftsmanship the last time we fought." For however brief and shameful that had been. Krixus had managed to work him up with words alone, a weakness Zana had since greatly lessened.

Lisa's Oak was shaped exactly like that; an old oak tree. It would have looked extremely out of place in plain sight amongst the other, rather ordinary buildings of the city, but nestled at the dead end of an alleyway on the west side of town, it almost appeared quaint and cozy.

Still, there was no mistaking the patrons it attracted. Though the Oak was bustling, every soul inside had a weapon on hand, a pocket of gold to spend, and a mind set towards making more.

Rather than head for any of those types, Henk slinked off directly toward the bar, taking an empty seat and placing a considerable handful of coins down. The bartender, a young woman with chestnut hair tied up and a buttoned top that showed a generous amount of flesh, quirked an eyebrow as she looked between him and the money.

"A drink for me, and two for Garrett."

The woman clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth and scooped up the coins, looking around to check whether anyone else was in immediate need of attention before nodding her head and ducking into the back.

Alistair Krixus

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Alistair glanced at the cloak before shrugging. Even if he had noticed the cloak's maker, it wasn't his place to make comments on who chose to gift things to Henk, even if he would not have. Not everyone was a perfect judge of character like himself.

The establishment that Henk brought them to was exactly what he would have expected from the formerly rogue Dreadlord. Half of these people inside likely had records that he could arrest them for if he so chose, and the other half would likely have records within the week.

Alistair said nothing as he cast his eyes downwards and followed behind Henk, taking a silent seat next to him as his fellow went to work hopefully getting them information. He assumed the phrase he spoke was a code for something because drinking anything in this place seemed like one was asking to get sick.

"It's nice armor."

Henk

 

[Henk]

"It's nice armor."

Henk smiled as he stared at the curtain the bartender had vanished behind, perhaps the first genuine one he'd worn around Al since that disaster of a Graduation.

"I'm sure she'd think that obvious. She goes by Sam now, no?" Henk had always known her by a different name, but the reputation she'd built as one Samantha Black had now far eclipsed the renown of her former moniker. "Haven't seen her in over a year. No excuse to make the trip to Castere."

An awkward silence, one that seemed to penetrate even the commotion of a busy tavern, fell over the pair as they waited for word from the bartender. Henk drummed his fingers on the surface of the bar, his smile faltering.

"Listen, Al. I'm s--"

"Hey, Ponytail." The young woman emerged from the curtain, cutting Henk off as she sauntered back to the bar. "Garrett will see you in the back, yeah? Usual rules apply. So..." She trailed off, her eyes wandering over to Alistair with a quirked brow.

"With me."

She cast a quizzical look over to Henk, before shrugging and opening the small door that led behind the bar.

Henk nodded to Al, and rose from his stool. As they dipped behind the curtain and into the long, smoky hallway beyond, he spoke in a mutter.

"Garrett is wired into the underbelly of Ospra, and a few other cities as well. I... pulled him out of a sticky situation a while back, and he owes me one. Just don't let on that we're here on orders, okay?"

Alistair Krixus

 

[Alistair Krixus]

"I'm sure she'd think that obvious. She goes by Sam now, no?"

Fair point. Of course, he still thought she would just describe it as good because that was all it needed to be for her. Armor was either good or bad, anything else was just being extra.

"Yeah, she has her reasons for it. And she keeps busy, that unit she leads does some real nasty work from what I've heard."

Their conversation was interrupted by the bartender, but it didn't sound like Henk was about to say anything important.

Al was quick to get up and follow after Henk, not even considering for a moment that he would be waiting out here while Henk did all the work. Alistair needed to hear this from the man in question to avoid any misunderstandings.

Henk's next words confirmed Alistair's next assumption that this was criminals and all being done below the board. It wasn't surprising just a little disappointing. A straight grin spread on his face with no actual humor behind the expression.

"I'll be on my best behavior."

Henk

 

[Henk]

Normally, Henk would have accepted some objection from Alistair, or perhaps a snide remark. Instead, he merely received a hollow smile. Henk looked forward, resisting the temptation to speak malice himself. There was no point in arguing, though; It was either this, or continue a wild goose chase.

Henk wouldn't pretend that he was a man of high moral integrity like Alistair seemed eager to do. No Dreadlord could make such a claim, given the piles of bodies left behind them.

"See to it that you are."

The pair of them were led through the back hall, muffled voices leaking through many of the closed doors they passed. The one at the very end hung slightly ajar, light peeking through and bathing the dim hall with a beckoning glow. It needn't be so dramatic, as the door swung open to reveal a rather ordinary sitting room; A fireplace, a table adorned with drinks and finger-food, and a few cushy looking chairs.

One of which was already occupied by a gaunt, middle aged man turned to face the fire, the orange glow of the flame highlighting his oily black hair and unusually pale flesh. He'd look more peasant than kingpin, if it weren't for the expensive suit he wore. Raising a hand, Henk rapped on the door as the two of them entered, feet falling soft against an expensive looking rug.

"Espen. Wondered when you'd come back around and collect."

The man didn't turn from the fire, but waved a hand to the two empty seats opposite him. Henk slowly moved to sit, cautious, regardless of what this man did or didn't technically owe him. "I'll make it brief, Garrett." The Dreadlord settled into his chair, "There was a murder in the market place, and everybody in town is acting on edge. Whispers of new faces in town, keeping an eye on things from the shadows."

Furrowing his brow, he tried to recall what Alistair had told him...

"The Pride comes before The Fall."

That got Garrett's attention. Enough that he finally turned to face them, sullen eyes narrowing instantly, lip curling into a snarl. Was it what Henk had said? The presence of Alistair? Or something... different? The anger seemed shortlived, as Garrett sank back into his chair, let the sudden huff of air leave him in a sigh, and nudged the table with his foot.

"You boys drink elven wine?" He forced a smile. "Sharpears... they aren't good for much, but they make some damn fine liquor." His stare focussed suddenly on Alistair. "How about you pour us all a glass, handsome?"

Alistair Krixus

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Alistair stayed silent after that. He could feel the resentment come from Henk and the scorn from those last words. He likely misunderstood where Alistair's annoyance and anger were coming from. He had begun to understand the need to use criminals and other undesirables when in his line of work. Friends like Kitra and Trix had shown their use.

His annoyance came from the fact that he was forced to use them at all. Henk was not a member of the Vigilite, but Alistair was and for his branch of Vel Anir's defense to be so easily dismantled by Gilram's goons did not sit well with him. It was anger at himself...maybe he was mistakingly directing it at the wrong people.

He could not risk activating his runic eyes upon entry so he had to settle for seeing through his own and Henk's aura, which thankfully was enough in such a small room. It was quickly apparent why this 'Garrett' had not been arrested, the man had about as much presence as Al's shoes. His stature and demeanor were so normal that it was almost eery.

Al stood next to Henk, but wanted to jump forward at the reaction from the man. He knew something so just say it and stop wasting their time. He could always wring the information from the man's neck if that was more suitable.

A smile spread onto Alistair's face, "Of course, who says no to good wine."

He looked around until he spotted the drinks or what he thought were the drinks, and so moved over to pour three glasses. As soon as he turned his head away from the two, he activated his eyes to get a better look around the room.

Henk