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At his altitude, on top of the White Wall, Nercur felt the wind howling through the crenellations. It blew through his black fur, bending the tips of his ears and making him shiver. He blinked multiple times to protect his eyes from the freezing bite, but he didn't hide. He touched the eternal white stones over which he leaned with open hands. The jackal caressed the rough mineral. Invincible. These would remain here intact long after he and everyone else alive in this moment -- as well as every person who would ever remember them -- would've died and turned to dust. Sometimes, he felt like this venerable pile of rocks held more value than all the wriggling, limited lives in the world. He included himself in this.

Far beneath him, the city of Mergen, capital of Wulric, spread in all directions like an ocean of wooden roofs and stony streets; edifices unruly yet squeezed and stacked against the many concentric ramparts. It was the most powerful city in the world, yet it was constrained by self-imposed limitations out of a desire for safety. People were too afraid, he thought. Why be afraid to die when life was so banal and unimportant?

Nercur stared directly below, at the foot of the castle, and he remembered. He could still visualize the disbelieving citizens running as they screamed and bled in the flaming streets of the Royal Domain. That was during his purge of the nobles and their families, when the general had returned to Mergen as the new Emperor of Wulric. The jackal never failed to be intrigued when people appeared astounded in their final moments. Did they forget they could die? Did they imagine themselves so important that the world would never tolerate harm to come to them? Soldiers like Nercur knew that the safety of ordinary everyday lives was a meaningless illusion. None of it mattered. The real world was out there, merciless, waiting to pounce.

The nobles' precious defenses hadn't protected them from him. They hadn't expected that threats could emerge from anywhere, at anytime. It'd never even occurred to them that their own soldiers -- the very tools of their power -- might turn against them. They thought they were the winners of this world. They thought they were born untouchable. In Nercur's mind, they deserved death the most.

Then again, he loved the Wulricians. They'd destroyed his home and had enslaved him when he was barely old enough to hold a weapon, only to force him into a life of harsh training and violent soldiering for the legions, but he didn't hate them for any of that. He'd learned some crucial lessons. This was what happened to the weak. It was nature. Nercur felt a deeper bond toward the Empire of Wulric than he did for the sun-bathed golden lands of his origins. If anything, his seemingly cruel early life had contributed to eradicating any frailty in him. He looked forward to returning the favor to the nation that had shaped him.

The general and de facto ruler of the country had enough, and turned to head for the flight of wooden stairs that descended beneath the battlements. As soon as he wasn't directly exposed to the wind, the cold diminished severely. He moved down the steps slowly and silently, listening to the unleashed element blowing furiously above him. After a few more seconds walking between the torches through the dim corridors leading deeper into the fortifications, he could no longer hear the storm. However, the general didn't forget that it was there, right outside. That was the mark of a true soldier. No amount of comfort could make Nercur forget about the violence of the storm.

Mafida waited for him in the great hall, close to the blazing hearth. The flickering low source of light created worrying shadows over his face. The rust-furred lynx held his hands to the flame. This was something that the jackal had noticed: soldiers from Snowhowl never missed an opportunity to get warm, even with their long fur and hearty constitutions, whereas Nercur didn't mind the cold so much, despite being a Sunlander. Then again, maybe the lynx's idea of what "cold" truly meant was a notion entirely separate from the jackal's.

-- These halls used to be filled with people, not long ago, said Mafida.

Nercur said nothing in response. He'd always loathed petty politicians and sycophants. He preferred the castle this way. Private. Quiet. Mafida finally glanced to him.

"You wished to speak to me, sir?"

-- I'm satisfied with the performance of the New Ghosts, said Nercur. Training is over. I have a task for you.

Mafida didn't move. The dancing shadows made it difficult to discern his expression.

-- What's the task?

-- You know what the task is, Mafida. Look me in the eyes. You knew this was coming. Are you going to carry it through?

Nercur grabbed the lynx's reddish-beige shoulder and spun him.

"Say it."

Hesitation hid behind the shiny stare. Mafida certainly didn't enjoy feeling trapped like so, but Nercur wasn't giving him a choice. At last, his spotted muzzle hardened in lethal resolve.

-- I'll do it, sir.

Nercur released the shoulder.

-- I'm positive he's still in the Sunlands, probably in Kalteh. Be discreet if you can, but don't let it get in the way of results. I want his pelt before my grand project enters its next phase.

The feline frowned, but he bowed and walked to a side door. The general interrupted him before he could leave.

"Mafida?"

The lynx swiveled. He hid his tension well, yet Nercur's canine nose could detect the faintest trace of adrenaline in his blood.

"I don't need to remind you what happens to my enemies."

The shiny feline eyes briefly darted aside, glancing at something behind the general, and then they returned to his new boss.

-- No, sir, of course not.

-- Good. The truth of your spirit was always admirable. Remember the rat thief I told you about? I wouldn't be surprised if he was also in that area. Look for him if you have the time, but your priority remains Darius. You have your task. It should be a decent first test for the New Ghosts. Leave.

The wooden side door closed with Mafida's departure, but chains rattled behind Nercur. His scaly trophy spent his wretched days there in ignominy. An exhausted voice murmured defiantly.

-- You can't truly expect to keep control of Wulric for long, even with Darius gone.

The defeated Dal of the Xurnon wore nothing but chains, bound kneeling to one of the massive pillars in the hall. Red trickles ran down his vivid green scales from the places where his flesh had severed under the lashes, and colored the iron links that dug cruelly into his naked drake hide. Chain marks were also still visible on his legs and sides from his last beating. A couple of months prior, Irzon would've surely called Nercur a rabid hound, but lately the fallen drake leader avoided such provocations in his comments. The constant pain from his regular discipline was starting to get to him, draining his energy and forcing him into a much gentler disposition. Attitude adjustment was merely the first step, but they were making steady progress with his taming.

Nercur moved closer to the captive with a soft, mocking growl.

-- Alright. I've a minute to humor you. Tell me, o wise hero, what am I doing wrong?

The previously proud horned head moved to the side with an irritated scowl, but he forced himself to avoid looking Nercur in the eye, as he'd been taught to do.

-- Wulricians won't accept a foreigner as their emperor. Especially not one that was a slave.

The jackal sat down on the floor so that his face would level with the drake's.

-- Who are these Wulricians you're talking about, with the power to accept or refuse me? The civilians can't do anything. As for the noble governors and commanders, they're already dead. I doubt they'll complain.

-- Their replacements can plot against you just as easily. Will you murder them too?

Nercur smirked.

-- Replacements?

Irzon went blank for a moment, and mistakenly looked up for a second before he caught himself. Nercur savored it when the spark of understanding entered his attractive reptilian eyes.

-- Who... who's managing the empire?

-- I am.

Irzon shook in his chains.

-- You can't be everywhere. Who's enforcing the laws in the provinces? Who has the legitimacy to designate city administrators?

The general smiled patiently.

-- I'm on the fence about you, you know. You inherited your authority as Dal, but then again, you proved to be a true soldier, standing by your men and fighting alongside them when you lost everything. In some ways, I feel close to you.

-- What are you going on about?

-- It's why you're alive, and not dismembered in a ditch. I have a modicum of respect for you. Lords and kings squabble over politics, money and land. There's nothing dirtier, nothing more fake. It makes me retch. They forget what these things truly represent, and what the real basis for power is. In the end, there's only you and me. Soldiers.

Nercur gave the exposed captive's chest a slightly vulgar stroke that was intentionally degrading, but also demonstrative of adversarial fondness. Irzon frowned with the offense as he was touched, but like before, Nercur was pleased that his fire-blooded hero politely submitted to this display of possession, despite what the jackal knew the drake thought of him.

"I think back to our battles, sometimes, back in the good old days. Our real ones, not that sad prank with the Sunlanders. Ah, you were at the height of your strength. Dal of the entire dragon state! Defender of your people! It was our first campaign, Darius and I. Yet, we've never managed to find something that was as sporting as slaughtering your kind. It's the only war that I believe we seriously could've lost. I still dream of endless streaks of your glimmering red shields in wheat fields, and I doubt it'll ever stop."

Nercur watched, and felt a sting of disappointment when Irzon contained himself.

-- There's more to life than violence, he growled quietly. I wish you could realize that.

-- I disagree. They like to cloak it into nice terms and describe themselves as civilized, but everyone knows actual power is how many soldiers you can raise and train. It's unpalatable to some, but a leader's strength is the amount of violence and death they can choose to unleash. This is how our "beautiful" cities and countries are structured. With deadly force. There's nothing noble about it. They call me mad because I'm honest, and no one likes the truth. Violence holds our world together. It was always violence. You want to be a legitimate ruler? Get an army. That never appeared fair to me. Warriors like us, we do the fighting. We do the dying. We _are_the power. Yet weak little aristocrats who sacrifice nothing get to wield us like tools? I don't think so. It's time we recognized where we belong.

Irzon's grey eyes widened. Even when they'd fought, the jackal general hadn't seen him so spooked.

-- Wait... You can't be meaning? No! Nercur, what have you done? Who's in charge of the provinces? Answer me!

With an indescribable amount of satisfaction, Nercur confirmed the drake's worst fears.

-- My soldiers.

-- You're insane! You can't give entire realms to leaderless legions of brutish grunts! There'll be chaos! I had no love for the corrupt Wulrician nobility, but you're breaking down the social order and replacing it with nothing! Ruling an empire is complex!

-- I'm simplifying it. My boys have been stripped of their ability to be their own masters for a long time. Yes, I expect them to be rough around the edges. I don't know if my new order will be better. I don't care about better. I care about fair.

-- Fair? Your soldiers won't manage farms and cities, they'll kill and pillage until there's no one left to produce anything! You're going to ravage the entire continent!

Nercur got up and pointed to himself.

-- Me? I'll do no such thing, but if it's what my soldiers want, then that's their mistake to make. Those shortsighted enough to slaughter the people that feed them will starve, yes. They'll get the logical outcome of their decisions. It sounds fair to me.

-- What about the innocent?

-- The weak, you mean? If they wanted a say, they should've sacrificed their cowardly comfort. We suffered. We gained strength. We decide their fates.

Irzon mumbled in his chains, staring at nothing.

-- Your troops. They'll do something. They'll see this is crazy.

-- If my loyal soldiers disagree with my leadership, they know I'll accept their challenge. They may replace me, if they prove their might. I'm not hard to find. Yet, look. We're alone here.

Nercur extended his arms and rotated. The empty hall around them remained silent.

Aloca firmly dug his talons in the hardened dirt, right off the street. The little Sunlander couple behind him continued to make meek sounds of astonishment, holding each other's arms, but the bird couldn't afford paying attention to them. He simply stood his ground between the group of Wulrician troopers and the helpless victims that they'd been trying to shake down. Aloca aimed his terribly impressive recurved bow at the three rams. Keeping it drawn was demanding, in truth, but it was all he could do to keep the brutes at bay. It was a very hot day in Kalteh, with the direct heat from the sun trapped between the homes and businesses of the town, and it drove everyone a bit crazy. The rams were too threatened to move forward, but they also stubbornly refused to let go, assuming that the exotic foreigner couldn't fight them off.

-- Forget it, guys, said Aloca. Whatever handful of coin you would've stolen from these two aren't worth your lives, and you know it. Leave.

Once again, reason failed. The white ram in front took a single step.

-- You're the one who's going to die for this! Why are you looking for trouble, dumbass?

Aloca twitched and the armed ram moved right back where he'd been a moment before. The standoff resumed.

During this whole time, Aloca's black wolf companion remained standing on the sidelines, glaring mutely at the avian. He strongly disapproved whenever Aloca got involved in what he deemed to be unnecessary conflicts, but the feathered knight couldn't allow civilians to be bullied right in front of his beak. That wasn't his nature.

-- Stupid bird! Why can't you let anything slide?

The large wolf groaned as he got into action at last. In a grandiose arc, he pulled the crude greatsword hanging sideways in his back and grudgingly took position by Aloca's side, snarling and showing teeth. The avian was already impressive enough by himself, but with the wild-furred canine added to the mix, wielding a sword heavy enough to be a hammer, the legionaries started backing off. It had to be said that Aloca and his unlikely partner made quite a sight together.

The Wulricians weren't happy about being forced to withdraw. They appeared to take it quite personally. The white ram angrily waved his sword toward the pair of warriors.

-- You'll regret this! he announced.

One of the other rams placed a hand on his arm and they left purposefully slowly, anxious to prove that they weren't afraid. The last few encounters of this kind had become progressively more hostile. Aloca reflected on this as he returned his bow to the harness in his back. He faced his companion with a wide smile on his bright beak.

-- Aw, look at us! You've got my back; I've got yours. We make such a great team! You can't pretend not to see it.

-- Don't you dare say another word, warned the wolf. We aren't a team, and if we were, it would be _my_team, not yours.

The villagers -- still shy from the fright -- appeared about to approach and talk to their helpers. The giant canine took a sudden large step and barked aggressively at them. They jumped with fear and fell backward, remaining petrified in each other's arms. Aloca glared with an air of deep condemnation. He ran to the fearful civilians to gently reassure them.

-- Why did you do that? They just want to thank us!

-- I don't want their thanks. What I want is for you to stop dragging the attention of the legions on us for no reason. Your wing is hurt and my magic is out. Our deal was that you are supposed to help me find a stealthy way to contact the Ghosts. Instead, you slow me down and put us at risk.

-- We can help these people.

-- Why? They are useless to us. They should help themselves, if they have the courage.

-- Fight the legions? No way, they'd get killed in an instant!

-- Exactly. They are weak. When you are weak, you learn to submit or you die. They should do as they are told and you should stop causing trouble for everyone. At least, tell them to pay us!

Aloca knelt with a gentle smile, and helped the small felines dust their clothes.

-- Don't listen to the grumpy wolf, if you can understand us. He's mean because he had a rough few weeks. Go, go on and be safe.

The avian knight gestured away, so the villagers fled at last between the dusty buildings. Aloca rose and rooted himself right in the wolf's face.

"Shake helpless people down after saving them from a shakedown? Come on. Besides, we can take a short break from your quest every once in a while; it's not like we're making any progress even when we're fully focused on it. Face it: we have no clue how the underworld works."

The black wolf grumbled, but he denied nothing. The simple fact was that they sucked at this. Neither of them knew the first thing about dealing with outlaws, and due to the occupation, they were sure to be hiding as deep as they could. The pair didn't even know how to locate them. It wasn't as if criminals would admit to being criminals merely because someone asked. How did bandits usually recognize each other? Surely, there was a trick, but if there was, Aloca wasn't familiar with it. These last few days had been pretty much wasted.

Luckily, having restored the supply line into town made their lives easier, and even the wolf admitted it. Word had spread around the road leading out of town about strange foreigners who'd courageously cleared out the danger, and it was difficult to mistake such a unique pair for anyone else. Aloca usually didn't have to knock on too many doors to find a Sunlander villager willing to part with a loaf of bread or a jug of fresh fatty milk for the saviors of Kalteh. Those offerings made for light meals, but it was sufficient for them to be relatively sated as they moved toward the town center, looking for information in inns and taverns. The further they went, however, the less they were recognized, and having no money didn't make things simple. They spent most nights sleeping out in the streets like vagrants. Nobody had bothered them thus far; the occupying forces were in no big hurry to mess with armed and armored warriors.

Aloca pondered their problem as they returned to the paved street.

"Can't say the underworld is my area of expertise. Chatting isn't the way I usually interact with outlaws, but asking around doesn't seem to be paying off as an approach. They don't want to be found. Maybe we need to try a different method?"

-- Such as what?

-- We could look for someone who knows about the city's bandits, but doesn't need to hide. Some local authority had to be dealing with crime before the invasion, right? Or we could try to give bandits a reason to want to find us! Maybe we pretend that we have a lot of money to steal?

The wolf nodded. He seemed to like that.

-- We should do both. You try the first idea, and I will be the bait for the second one. I have a strategy.

The wolf stopped and began taking off his metallic pauldrons. He knelt and forcefully began taking them apart at the joints, bashing them on the stony street to dislodge the rivets holding the metal plates. Aloca gawked at the apparent craziness.

-- Um, wolf, what are you doing?

The lupine simply extended his hand.

-- Do you have a pouch?

Minutes later, the pair reached the inn they were looking for. It was a large two-story building in the middle of the town center, completely built out of sandstone and elegant palm lumber. Obviously it'd been a booming business before the war, but even in this moment, Aloca couldn't avoid noting the sounds of a crowd inside. The wolf sniffed the discordant and mixed smells as well and confirmed that the tavern was packed. They'd heard it was the biggest inn in Kalteh, but even then, having that many customers in a town paralyzed by occupation was impressive.

As soon as they set paw and talon past the doorway, the large room quieted down. Everywhere, dejected Sunlanders with nothing better to do than to drown their sorrows glowered at the foreigners. There wasn't a single Wulrician soldier in sight. Clearly, this wasn't a place where invaders were very welcome to spend their ill-gotten gains. The wolf looked at himself, seemingly remembering that he wore legion armor only then. Aloca slowly and discreetly leaned toward him. His beak barely moved when he whispered.

-- I detect some tension. Don't do anything to provoke the angry mob.

The wolf appeared to see the wisdom in this proposition, at first, but then a troubling grin appeared on his face. Aloca had no way of knowing this in that moment, but the wolf was attempting to figure out a way to turn this situation to his advantage. A drunken Wulrician trooper, moneyed up from looting homes and extorting villagers would be an extremely tempting and realistic target for thieves. Oh, yes. The wolf had secretly decided to provoke the angry mob. He began to slip into character and adopted a limp attitude and wobbly walk.

Meanwhile, Aloca had already gone on ahead to talk to the innkeeper. The bird sat down heavily on a wooden stool, making elbow room between grumbling Sunlanders with their gazes lost in their drinks. He slicked the red feathers of his arms. They seemed to have lost some of their luster, due to the dust floating in this dry and stunning country. This hadn't been an easy couple of weeks for him, especially not since his black-furred "new friend" had awakened. He felt good, however, like he was where he needed to be in this moment, and the Sun guided his path. The lupine soldier yet refused to give his name, but there was something about him. He was too quick-witted, too educated for a normal Wulrician legionary deserter, and much too skilled. In truth, Aloca knew this was a ranked officer of some sort, but it made little difference to him. All Wulricians bathed in their warmongering culture, and this wasn't something easy to escape. He didn't blame him for joining the military any more than he blamed the grunts, but he truly hoped the wolf would seize the opportunity for a fresh start. Aloca had seen this incredible and magnificent beast on the verge of death, with little left to lose, and he was a fighter. The avian badly wanted him on his side. Everyone deserved a friend and a chance to do better. He saw such miserable loneliness in these dark eyes... Honoring his part of the deal with the wolf was also a perfect excuse to continue attempting to recruit him to his side.

The innkeeper wordlessly cleaned some mugs. It was a feline, taller than the average Sunlander. He was old enough that the golden locks in his fur were turning grey, but he appeared healthy and strong to the avian. Aloca casually tapped the old counter with his claws to catch his attention. He spoke in Sunlander.

-- Ho there, friend! Busy day, right? You must be glad.

-- Eh. The usual customers come in durin' the day, now. Most have nothin' to do, and they don't wanna walk the town at night.

The graying cat talked with a gruff and warm voice. He looked like he'd seen every possible thing happen twice already, and little could shake him anymore. He dealt with the invasion as merely another fact of life.

"Half of them already owe me a small fortune," he continued, "but what're I gonna do? They're waitin' for the situation outside to quiet down. If I didn't give them credit, I wouldn't do any business at all. Others are just comin' in to hide from the blaze, like you, and won't order."

-- How do you know I won't buy a drink? asked Aloca, startled.

-- You don't have no money, son. If you did, you'd be drinkin' somethin' right now with that heat today, not just talkin' to me. I aren't a fool.

The bird chuckled sheepishly when the piercing ancient eyes challenged him to prove otherwise.

-- Alright, you got me. I just want to chat. I'm already on a job with a friend.

The feline frowned and grumbled suspiciously, staring behind Aloca.

-- Yeeeah... I saw you come in with the fellow. Did he drink all your money?

The red-and-white feathered knight went mute for a moment. The wolf was drawing more and more attention to himself, strutting around the tables, waving his arms and mumbling incoherent words to the clientele of the establishment in a dreadfully inefficient path toward the counter. For a second, Aloca wondered if it was possible that his partner had already found a way to get drunk, a mere minute or two after walking in, but no, of course that was impossible. He was faking it, and superbly so, royally pissing off every Sunlander in the room with his brash behavior and legionary looks. Murder eyes slowly began to converge on him.

Aloca turned back, flushing at the fact that the innkeeper had seen them together. They should've separated before going in, but it was too late, at this point.

-- Heh... Uh, don't worry about him, I promise he won't be any trouble.

At this exact moment, the wolf reached the counter. He took the pouch hanging at his belt and shook it with grand flaps of his arms. The joints and rivets inside sounded almost exactly like coins, and only then did Aloca finally catch on.

-- Keep! the wolf blurted out in simplified Wulrician. Buy everyone three rounds! Today, we celebrate Wulric Day! Aw, aw, awooooo!

The shouting, howling storm of horrendously thoughtless Wulrician pride moved away after grabbing a mug of tepid ale and taking two massive foamy gulps of it. Aloca briefly wondered if there even was such a thing as "Wulric Day". He doubted it, but the astounded customers occupying the inn seemed just as unsure as he was. Celebrating Wulric was certainly beyond insulting in an occupied city like Kalteh, especially to the Sunlanders's faces, who valued respect and modesty extremely highly. The lupine's dense eagerness and apparent complete inability to even realize just how vulgar and offensive his behavior was, well that seemed to disconcert everyone. Some of the jackals and cats even grinned at each other in amused disbelief. There was also the fact that he'd just bought everyone three rounds. For the time being, the black wolf probably wouldn't get skinned alive, though he'd succeeded in making himself and his pretend wealth extremely visible. Really, the Wulrician was cunning and bold in ways that Aloca couldn't stop himself from admiring, though he felt appalling guilt about the fraud that he was allowing to proceed. They had no money to pay for any of this. The shameful dishonor was intense, but he couldn't reveal the trickery without placing them both in danger, and ruining their efforts.

Aloca smiled innocently, but the grumpy innkeeper's attitude had evolved. It was a combination of deep personal vexation, and the incalculable happiness of doing good business. In the end, the cat shrugged and nodded.

-- I thought you said you guys had no money?

Aloca pretended to cough while he thought of a response.

-- Um, no. I said that I don't have money. I never said anything about my friend.

The innkeeper glanced at the wolf once more.

-- Your friend's alright with me as long as he's buyin', but you should let him know that this kind of display won't please people, these days. He's lookin' for trouble.

The feline suddenly looked concerned as he filled another cup of ale and offered it to Aloca.

"He's gonna pay me, right? He's good for it?"

Aloca declined the ale in shame, and asked for water instead.

-- Well, I can definitely guarantee that he won't be leaving this establishment with any money that he owes you. Thank you very much for the water.

The innkeeper was reassured.

-- No problem, son. You said you were hopin' to chat? What about?

At this point, the feline was obviously much more willing to be helpful, and the avian decided to dive straight for the info he wanted. Further in the room, the wolf continued to cause a barely tolerated commotion, trying to get the annoyed customers to drink with him, as if he genuinely expected them to celebrate Wulric Day. Aloca figured he had to hurry. He feared this entire situation wouldn't remain stable for long.

-- This looks like a nice town. Before the occupation, was there a lot of crime in Kalteh?

The innkeeper's brow twitched at the unexpected topic.

-- Guess so, but not more than in other regions, I don't think. We have a local thieves' guild, but it's nothin' particularly organized. Just a bunch of guys who know each other. It's really not the Long Shadows, know what I mean?

-- Do you ever have problems with them?

-- Sure. Now and then jugs of ale go missin' from a shipment, or someone tries to break into my strongbox. Not that there's anythin' special in there. Heh! They're quiet these days, what with the legions in the streets. Those guys aren't leavin' much to steal, anyway.

-- What do you do when that happens?

-- I go to the marshal, like everyone in this neighborhood. He's a leadin' member of this militia a few ex-soldiers organized. We pay them a little and they keep the peace. Sometimes they even manage to find the stolen stuff. Or at least, that was before. Now, they're lyin' low, cause the Wulrics might not take kindly to havin' another armed force around town. The soldiers are much worse than the bandits, and we got no one to turn to when they're doing the stealin'. Bastards.

The old cat gave a quick glance to the armored wolf making a loud annoyance of himself, and served a few more customers who came to get their free drinks in order to put up with him. The innkeeper squinted.

"Your friend's really one of them?"

-- Uh, yes and no. He used to be, but now he's a deserter. He's just... proud of his country, I guess. About this marshal of yours, is he still around?

A chortle.

-- For sure he is! That's his table right there. You'll agree that he's kinda hard to miss.

The grey cat pointed somewhere in the crowd behind Aloca, and the avian soon spotted the person in question, wondering how he hadn't noticed him before. It was the only patron of the establishment without a chair or a stool, for he didn't have legs, but a massive coiled body and tail covered in glistening brown scales ranging from nearly black to light clay. Part of his pale underbelly was hidden by a white padded cloth sash protecting his waist and abdomen. His upper chest, shoulders and folded arms were bare save for his natural armor of scales, and he carried no weapon. It was the very first time Aloca saw one of the mythical snake people. Though he'd heard some of them lived in the Sunlands even before he left his home island, he never expected he'd get lucky enough to meet one!

On the other hand, the glorious reptile looked to be in a foul mood. Flanked by two much smaller jackals that catered to him and loyally echoed his emotions -- probably members of the militia the old cat mentioned -- the mighty cobra kept throwing deathly glances over his shoulder toward none other than Aloca's boisterous wolf partner. The flaps along the entire length of his neck and upper back vibrated, threatening to extend in outrage every second. Aloca hurried when the wolf initiated a dated Wulrician song. Aloca knew that one. He prayed that the clientele wouldn't understand the lyrics near the end too much.

-- Oh, there is a land of endless bounty,

Squeezed between nasty glaciers and honey,

Where the folks are hardy,

And the spirits roam free...

The wolf boasted a deep yet surprisingly melodious singing voice -- a bird could tell -- but there was no time for this consideration. The avian pulled an empty chair as noisily as he could to catch the militias' attentions and divert them from the song. It was a success, and the group glared as he boldly sat at their table.

-- Do you mind if I take this seat? Thank you. You must be the marshal I've heard about! Pleased to meet you, honorable friend! I'm Aloca. The innkeeper was just talking to me about you.

Aloca extended his arm and waited. The trio kept looking at the intruder with guarded hostility, but after a quick glance to the feline businessman pouring mugs of ale, the lethal-looking reptile slowly moved to shake Aloca's hand. The cobra's flaps ceased vibrating as he cautiously focused his profound black eyes on the bird.

-- I'm Marshal Nadaje, yess. What can I do for you, sstranger?

The militia leader wasn't exactly warm, but he detailed the avian knight with curiosity.

-- I'm currently on a quest for a friend. I had some questions about criminality in Kalteh and I've been told you're the person to ask.

Nadaje's suspicious eyes immediately narrowed, and Aloca sensed that getting information might not be as easy as he'd hoped. The giant snake hissed when the black wolf swung by their table in a very convincing drunken dance. The scaly flaps shivered once more, but luckily the Wulrician kept going further. At least, the lupine's plan appeared to be working. A shady and scruffy-looking Sunlander feline had joined the singing wolf with an appeasing smile, but he regularly eyed the fat purse that the wolf was swinging in everybody's faces. If that wasn't a thief sizing up his mark, then Aloca was the queen of chickens. They couldn't be sure that this particular thief would have any serious connections in the underworld, though, so Aloca kept trying to get information as well, despite the marshal's distrust.

-- What kind of ansswers are you looking for, exactly, and what are you hoping to do with them? You'd better not be brewing trouble in my town. We've got enough of those damned filthy Wulricss taking and pillaging like the beasstss they are!

-- Yeah! added one of the jackals, pointing at Aloca's wounds. You look like a troublemaker to me, avian. How'd you hurt your wing? Get into some fights recently, did you?

Nadaje whistled softly and leaned over the table, intimidating. Aloca did his best to look as harmless as possible.

-- Ah, no worries, friends! I'm not a bandit or a mercenary for the legion. In fact, I'm, uh, a specialized bounty hunter! My target arranged for some, eh, forbidden magical texts to move secretly through the country. You know local outlaws. Can you think of anyone with the network and resources to make something like this happen?

Aloca chuckled nervously, transfixed by the terrible marshal. They weren't buying his nonsense story. The snake frowned.

-- What'ss your bounty called?

-- I... don't know?

The jackals laughed like hyenas, but Nadaje wasn't amused in the least.

-- You ignore the name of your own target?

-- It's my specialty. Tough cases.

Nadaje shook his head, quite infuriated by the transparent lies being thrown at him.

-- Do you know what I believe? I believe you're no bounty hunter. I think you're looking for banditss to esstablish contactss.

Things weren't looking good, but then they got a whole lot worse when Aloca's wolf partner followed by his new shady companion brought his song to a grand finish and stopped roaming around the inn directly next to the marshal's table.

-- ... That's why we reign supreme!

We'll always reign supreme!

The wolf and the shifty feline downed their mugs of ale together. Suddenly, the militias seemed to recognize the petty rogue that had been tailing the Wulrician, and their anger doubled. The only thing worse than a Wulrician invader, in their eyes, had to be a Wulrician invader cavorting with outlaws. Nadaje was about to explode.

"Hail the Wulric Empire!" shouted the wolf to conclude with a hiccup and a wobble.

The massive snake smashed his heavy arms over the wooden surface as his hood expanded violently, flashing dark sleek scales. The table broke into halves with a powerful rising hiss.

-- That does it!

Aloca and the jackals jerked away from the impact, falling off their seats but swiftly springing up, ready for conflict. As soon as he saw the militias getting excited, the feline thief that had been trying to approach the wolf got scared and disappeared through the crowd in a blink. At the same time, the old innkeeper arrived and touched Aloca's shoulder. He designated the black wolf.

-- Hey, it's time for your friend to start payin' for those rounds he bought.

Nadaje observed the interaction. He stared daggers at Aloca and switched to speaking Wulrician, which apparently he could do, though his accent was extreme.

-- You're with thiss Wulric trash?

The wolf brutally dropped the drunken act. He moved as sharply as ever, and corrected the cobra.

-- It is "Wulrician trash". Why does everybody get that wrong? A citizen of Wulric is a Wulrician. Would you like it if I called you a Sunland instead of a Sunlander?

-- We never called our realm the Ssunlands, spat the marshal, it'ss you foreigners who call uss that! We don't even like that name!

The wolf opened his maw wide and rudely glowered at the ceiling.

-- Ugh, who cares about your feelings? You scared my thief away.

With a shrug, the wolf finally threw his purse for the innkeeper to catch.

"Here, this is all the money I own."

The innkeeper didn't seem to understand the words, but he sure understood what he saw when he opened the purse. He wailed tragically, betrayed. Nadaje darkened, but a satisfied smirk grew on his face as he glanced at the wolf, and then at Aloca.

-- I knew you were liars and thieves. I'll teach you dirty cowards a permanent lesson.

Aloca showed his palms.

-- Now, now. There's no need to-

It was far too late to try and appease the tension. A massive swing from the snake warrior's left fist brushed the feathers of Aloca's head when he ducked and spun backward to a safe distance. He regretfully repressed a movement of his hand to the pouch of yellow paint at his belt. There was no time for his ritual, so he quickly spoke the words in his head, and that'd have to do for this once, but he felt wrong fighting without his war paint.

Gasps of fear and surprise erupted everywhere as patrons of the inn ran to escape the violence, knocking down tables and chairs. The pair of jackals focused their attention on Aloca and stepped forward with hardened angry faces, trying to flank him. Meanwhile, after his initial strike, Nadaje had picked the aggravating wolf as his priority target. Despite the volume of the slithering cobra marshal, the Wulrician warrior made a taunting gesture of challenge, waving his fingers toward himself. Aloca only had time to see the giant beasts tackle and begin to wrestle each other before he had to bring his attention to the immediate threat of the jackal militias.

They were extremely confident that they could overcome the bird in a two-against-one fight, and the first jackal lunged with a tight fist, aiming for Aloca's beak. The avian dodged by twisting sideways, offering less of a target, and allowing him to deliver an even mightier palm strike to the attacker's snout. The jackal crashed into it and fell straight down with a yelp of canine pain. He rolled meekly left and right on his back, emitting sad whines and holding his face while his companion took pause, reevaluating the threat that the strange feathered knight represented. This hesitation gave Aloca more than enough time to turn around and prepare to face the second jackal. The latter didn't seem to like his chances, and smashed a stool to use one of the legs as a makeshift wooden bludgeon. Aloca grumbled, but he couldn't honorably draw his lethal arming sword against... that. Still, it allowed his opponent to swing at him safely and Aloca began to back off toward the counter as the inn continued to empty out of its panicked customers.

This is when an empty vat was brutally broken over the bird's head. Lights appeared to dim for a fraction of a second as he winced from the severe pain and shook his head, irately glancing behind at the old innkeeper. The cat seemed positively astonished, and more than a little terrified at the fact that Aloca hadn't fallen from the blow. The innkeeper fled along with his clients and disappeared out of an open window, but the unpleasant experience brought some very familiar rage from the depths of the hawk's soul.

Aloca marched forward, blocking a hurtful strike of the improvised mace with his forearms, but in this martial mental state, pain no longer manifested itself as a significant factor. Aloca finished closing the gap on the startled jackal, and simply grasped his wrists. The canine resisted, grunting with effort, but Aloca overtly displayed the superiority of his form, forcing the arms open. He proceeded to dynamically knee his defenseless opponent in the stomach. To his credit, and as proof of how tough those militias actually were, the jackal didn't fall, but he doubled over while slamming into a table, releasing his weapon and raising one hand in a clear sign that he no longer felt inclined to piss off any bird for the rest of the week.

Recognizing that his attackers had been pacified, Aloca made a concerted effort to bring his fighting spirit down. He looked at the defeated jackals wriggling nearby, ears dropped, obviously scared of getting pummeled some more, and kept telling himself that no more brutality was necessary. Very soon, repeating the words in his mind became unneeded, because he actually felt the truth of them. His rage petered out. Balance returned. Aloca looked around the devastated inn to locate the wolf and help him against his impressive opponent, but he heard the distinct sound of a heavy body being launched into many jars of cheap ale.

Aloca swiveled just in time to witness as the serpentine form ceased moving, obviously knocked out, laid flat over and behind the counter. The black wolf stood a few steps away, apparently unharmed, though his hackles were definitely raised. He turned to Aloca, and seemed to calm down as well, quieting his low growl. Both looked around at the deserted inn. The jackals had discreetly helped each other egress, and the cobra marshal was out cold, marinating in ale like some kind of modern, very weird delicacy.

-- Great, said the Wulrician. Now, we are back to square one, and we broke the biggest inn of Kalteh with your dumb plans.

The avian couldn't stop staring at the snake warrior.

-- You took that guy out with your hands?

-- Why not?

-- That's not what I meant...

Suddenly, a fallen table rumbled, and from behind it, a feline face carefully emerged. It was the shady cutpurse that had been looking to make the lupine his mark. He spoke in Sunlander.

-- That. Was. Amazing!

The nimble bandit jumped over his barricade and strutted right through the middle of the warzone, taking what was left of a broken pottery jar and pouring its content into three mugs. He offered two of them to the dazed fighters, and raised the third as he joined them.

"To your health, warriors! You're the real deal! You have no idea how long I've waited to see the marshal get his amply deserved thrashing. You could _not_have made me happier, even if that bloated purse of coin had been real."

The cutpurse drank first. Aloca and his wolf companion shrugged at each other and followed suit.

"So, did I hear that you performed this whole song and dance to attract thieves on purpose? Why? Clearly you're not friends of the law, or anything. Are you looking for work opportunities?"

-- Not exactly, responded Aloca, but we're seeking someone with contacts who could send a message for us all the way to the heart of Wulrician power. A message nobody can know about, especially not the Wulricians.

The mangy cat got excited.

-- Oooooh, secret plots and betrayals against the Wulrics? Count me in! I can't promise anything, since you don't have money, but I'll vouch for you and introduce you to someone who might be able to help. It's the least I can do. Maybe individuals with abilities like the two of you can find a way to strike a deal? What you did today can't avoid putting the guild in a first-rate mood. Come along, friends. This isn't the right tavern at all if you wanted to meet outlaws. We have to take a bit of a walk.

-- What is going on? asked the wolf as the feline led the way out of the inn.

-- We have to follow him, explained Aloca. He'll lead us to someone who might be able to contact the Ghosts for you. He liked that you gave the law a black eye.

-- I guess your plans were genius after all, sneered the wolf.

The uncomfortably warm afternoon threatened to turn into an eventless evening in the obscure windowless hideout. Not that it was any of Yuryam's concern, really, but in truth the rat preferred the busier nights since they were slightly less boring. Just slightly.

The professional thief sighed and leaned even further over the counter, trying to avoid thinking about what the other members of the Long Shadows would say if they knew he'd fallen to working. Actual working! For an honest wage!

After escaping from the Wulrician war camp, the rogue had discovered with shock and horror that his buried cache of emergency goodies on the outskirts of Kalteh had been discovered and seized by the snooping and greedy legionaries when they'd taken the town. Having lost everything, Yuryam naturally sought refuge with the local thieves' guild -- and calling them a guild at all felt generous as hell. They were a loosely affiliated group of motley bandits with middling skills, top. Mutual assistance wasn't usually the underworld's biggest priority, but he'd figured they'd welcome a Long Shadow like himself for a job or two so that he'd gather funds for the supplies, transportation and bribes necessary for his discreet journey back to Melnia. All he wanted was to get away from this heap of trouble in which he'd trapped himself, and to make it home so that he could disappear in a dark crevice and rejoin with his guild for a well-deserved break.

Sadly, though language was a significant barrier, he'd soon discovered that the Sunlander "outlaws" were terrified of operating under threat of the full might of Wulric's military, and so there were no jobs going on. The Kalteh equivalent of a guildmaster had taken pity upon seeing the rodent's deeply dismayed face, and had offered him temporary employment in their seedy hideout while they waited for opportunities. They were amateurs, but with Yuryam's extremely rotten luck ever since he'd first been sent after General Nercur, he couldn't do anything about it. At least, he was no longer anywhere close to murderous power-hungry Wulrician rulers. He could do with his life returning to a simpler, more controlled state. He swore to himself that he'd never again get involved into anything too serious, even if his reputation as a rogue had to take a dive. In the meantime, he worked in this forsaken, low tier bandit meeting point.

One of the hooded vagrants came from his table in the dark depth of the room to freshen up his and his friends' drinks, and left with the filled mugs. After taking his meager coin, Yuryam started wiping the dirty cups. In this moment, the guildmaster walked in from the back room and sat on the edge of the counter in silence. The rat gave him a hopeful glance, but the black-backed canine shook his head. As usual, he said a word that Yuryam had learned meant: "nothing". The professional rogue went back to his glorious dish washing. Yeah. A real quiet evening. Then again, he wasn't surprised; the goal of this establishment wasn't to be obvious. From the outside, it looked like an ordinary house in a disadvantaged district.

The stillness and customary soft murmurs of the dim hideout were broken by lively voices outside. All heads swiveled toward the door with interest, and the guildmaster pushed himself off the counter to face the entrance. As sad as it was that a random person coming in was one of the highlights of the evening for the lost souls in this place, Yuryam had to admit that his curiosity was also aroused. By the Moon, could these nights be dreary.

First to come in was a regular that the rat instantly recognized. The cat was a barely competent cutpurse with uneven patches of tan fur for whom Yuryam held precious little respect. Once, as a joke, the rat had lifted one of the very light coin pouches from the cat's belt, and taken half the money inside only to place the purse back among the cat's belongings. Such a thing was a common prank between Long Shadows, but the feline never came to retrieve his coins. As days passed, Yuryam was eventually forced to accept the previously unthinkable reality that this petty thief didn't even bother keeping track of the money he had on him, or of where he'd placed his purses. Thus, Yuryam had formed a habit of playing this funny prank on him every week.

Much more interestingly, a colorful stranger accompanied the cat. The rat born and raised in the heart of Melnia, far to the west, had never seen one of the bird people before, and this was an impressive male specimen: tall, tough-looking and covered in red and white feathers. The avian was also obviously some kind of knight, carrying well-maintained armament and wearing very fine -- if also a smidge disparate -- pieces of equipment and armor. He was way too flashy to be a thief looking to fence stolen goods, so perhaps a mercenary? The bird seemed to have seen his fair share of conflict recently, sporting bandages under his armor and a broken wing braced with a splint. Now that Yuryam thought about it, he'd heard a silly story or two about a team of mercenaries being responsible for ending the threat of starvation, one member of which was a bird person. Perhaps it wasn't drunken nonsense, after all.

The cutpurse excitedly introduced his guest to the guildmaster, and they spoke for a while. Yuryam's limited ability to understand Sunlander didn't allow him to follow the conversation, but the bandits clearly enjoyed what they heard. After a minute or two, a sudden clamor rose throughout the hideout as the bandits clapped and cheered, congratulating the avian, who seemed uncomfortable, yet did his best to smile and accept the praise. The guildmaster welcomed the stranger to the hideout, and then walked outside, for some reason. Most bandits returned to their own business, so the avian knight found himself standing alone in the middle of the hideout and looking rather lost. Yuryam's curiosity and instinct for opportunity caused him to beckon the stranger. He wanted to know more. The bird gratefully accepted the invitation, and approached the kitchen counter where the rat worked. Yuryam poured him a mug on the house and they sat together at a nearby table.

-- Greetings, stranger. My name is Yuryam. What brings an armed warrior here, of all places?

To the rodent's surprise, the red and white hawk inquisitively inclined his head, but immediately responded in nearly flawless Wulrician.

-- Honored to meet you. I'm Aloca. Don't you speak Sunlander?

-- Sadly, no. I'm not skilled with any of the Sunlander dialects. I haven't been here long enough to learn much. I'm stuck due to the occupation, and my work here is awfully tedious, so that makes new faces particularly interesting to me. You look like you're a long way from home as well. That made me want to chat with you.

Aloca's strong yellow beak opened into a warm smile of understanding.

-- I certainly am.

The bird sipped ale from his mug. Yuryam couldn't stop himself wondering if that was harder to do with a beak.

"I'm here with a friend, a Wulrician deserter," continued Aloca. "He's taking a breather outside. In truth, we're looking for someone who can send a secret message for us to the leader of the Ghosts in Wulric, but nobody can know about this, especially not the Wulricians."

Yuryam hid how startled he was. This knight was volunteering way too much information to a total stranger. He had no clue what he was doing, and it was painfully obvious. The rat leaned forward and whispered aggressively.

-- Hold on, there. You shouldn't trust people you don't know with information that they can use to sell you off to the authorities. What are you doing? Did you tell all of that to these guys?

The rodent flicked his wrist toward the shadowy tables a few times. The avian was confused.

-- Yeah? Should I not have done that?

-- No! These are incompetent idiots! Look at them! None of them has the resources or skill set to reach the Wulrician high command, especially given the current chaos.

Aloca leaned away slightly, folding his arms with a frown.

-- Well, they told me they'd find a way to help, and I have no reason to distrust them.

Once he recovered from the shock, the rat began laughing.

-- Alright, look. Do whatever you want, but for the service you're seeking, you need real professionals. Stay here and these guys will either betray you, or get you caught due to sheer ineptitude. You need to get your feathers to Melnia along with your friend to contract the Long Shadows, and the good news is that this is also where I need to go, because I'm a Long Shadow myself!

The bird was dubious.

-- You're a Long Shadow?

-- That's what I said.

-- Prove it. Steal something from me. It should be easy with your "legendary" skills.

Yuryam's eyes rolled. He leaned backward into his chair with an exasperated sigh. This allowed him to extend his right leg under the table after his left paw pushed his shoe off. The nimble right paw explored Aloca's belt with undetectably light touches of the tips of his claws while he kept the bird's attention focused with an infuriated tirade.

-- Oh, please! Like I'm going to lower myself to that kind of insipid test! I'm trying to do you a favor, here. I don't need to prove anything to you. If you don't want my help, then feel free to disregard my expert advice. Here, you can have your sword back.

With a self-satisfied smirk, Yuryam produced the weapon from under the table, while Aloca's lower beak fell wide open in immediate bewilderment. The rat pulled the blade a few centimeters out of its sheath, admiring the quality of the foreign steel covered in lighter streaks due to some unknown forging technique. The pommel had a small sun engraved on both sides. He handed the item to the gaping bird.

-- Amazing! How did you do that?

-- I used powerful secret thief magics! lied Yuryam. Because I'm a Long Shadow, and I actually know what I'm doing, as opposed to these guys.

-- Alright, alright. I'm convinced. We'll hire you instead.

-- Excellent choice! I can assure you that you do need me, and badly so! You have no clue what you're doing here.

Aloca laughed.

-- I really don't! Even just finding this place was a challenge for us. Wow, I'm so glad we met!

Since he had obtained a verbal commitment, Yuryam felt much more confident. Not only was it time to get out of this dump, but he would have an armed escort and could also make a nice profit off of it! This was a great day!

-- We'll need money for the journey and bribes, and you should prepare a significant amount for hiring the Long Shadows once we make it to Melnia: at least twenty bricks of silver or an equivalent value. Then, the only thing that's left to discuss is my payment as a guide and facilitator, of course. I have to admit, my services can be quite pricey, so-

The bird gently interrupted him, looking embarrassed.

-- Ah, erhm. That's also one of the things I explained earlier. We don't have any money.

The rat's dream of an impending departure for Melnia shattered with the imaginary sound of a clay cup breaking on the floor.

-- You... don't?

-- The guildmaster here indicated that this wouldn't be a problem. He assured us that he'd be able to find a lucrative task or two for us to accomplish in the meantime. Your friends were quite impressed that we managed to defeat Marshal Nadaje.

Yuryam thoughtfully rubbed the soft underside of his pointy rodent chin. He'd seen the massive snake militia leader. Had this bird and his friend beaten such a beast? It was true that the avian looked like a veteran warrior. People with these kinds of abilities rarely went long without opportunities for gainful employment. With some decent muscle to back them up, perhaps even this lowly local guild might foster the courage to pull off a few jobs against some of the most thriving invaders, and steal back what they pillaged and extorted. The rat could see why the Sunlander bandits wanted to keep such men around, but he doubted the guildmaster had any real intention to help them in the long run. Still, once they'd have money, Yuryam would be able to strike a deal with the foreign warriors. The whole venture would take longer, and certainly be a lot less profitable than he'd hoped, though. No matter. Yuryam was used to dealing with the shitty hands fate offered him.

The rat got up and fetched the ale to pour Aloca another mug, and this time, he also poured one for himself. At least, he wasn't anywhere close to any insane Wulrician rulers locked in a deadly struggle for power.

-- I understand. Times are tough all around. Once you have decent money, we'll talk business.

Aloca nodded. Yuryam pointed to his broken wing.

"The marshal was a pretty tough guy, wasn't he?"

The bird quickly swallowed his ale and shook his head.

-- Oh, no, that's from fighting a demon, earlier. Completely different deal.

The rodent stared wide-eyed, trying to figure out whether or not the bird was pulling his leg, when the hideout door opened and the guildmaster walked back in. Someone else followed him: a giant, rough-looking canine figure that had to be Aloca's partner. Without bothering to take a better look, Yuryam instantly moved behind his counter in order to prepare a mug for his other future potential client. The first jar of ale was empty, so he ducked behind the counter to grab another one. As he worked to open the second jar, he heard the new arrival approach Aloca's table. They spoke Wulrician, and Yuryam experienced a faint hint of remembrance. The canine's voice sounded like that of someone that he knew, maybe?

-- The outlaw leader tried to speak to me, but I couldn't understand much of what he said. Did they agree to our deal?

-- Yes, answered Aloca. Though it seems that someone else is interested in the job we're offering as well. Either way, we'll need to stay here for a while to gather payment. Best get comfortable.

The rough voice snarled.

-- I am _not_going to play thug for hire to a bunch of petty thieves for long. This outfit doesn't even seem organized enough to grant us the service we need. Look at this place!

-- This is why we'll hire a different guy once we have the money. He's a Long Shadow, or something. We'll head to Melnia and pay them to do deliver your message... besides, it'll be much closer to Old Wulric.

A grumble.

"Look, I'm seriously not thrilled about working for outlaws either. I warned them that we wouldn't get involved in stealing from the population. We'll hit the legions only. It won't be long until we have the coin we need. You're the one who wants to contact the Ghosts in Nercur's back! Did you assume it would be easy?"

-- Whatever. I am thirsty.

Yuryam hurried up with the ale as he heard heavy lupine paws thump closer to his counter.

-- Coming right up! the rat said.

Yuryam lifted the jar up at the same time the black wolf was reaching over the counter, intent on serving himself. They wound up face-to-face so close that their humid snouts accidentally smooshed together.

It was Darius. Yuryam was staring at Darius's cold nose. The "dead" Emperor of Wulric stared back.

-- You! he said, squinting in anger.

-- Me! squeaked Yuryam, imagining what the wolf might do to him.

For a single second, they were both too startled by the mutual recognition to do anything at all. Then, the rat gasped in terror and leapt backward, dropping the jar which exploded on the floor, while the terrible black wolf bounced over the counter to catch him. People gaped without understanding while Yuryam screamed and dashed toward the tables, barely avoiding Darius' grasp. He agilely hopped over one and circled around it, making sure to keep the obstacle between himself and the crazy wolf. Darius' patience for this turned out critically limited when he walked into the table and simply flipped it out of his way despite the fact that people were sitting at it, causing a massive ruckus which finally shook Aloca and the guildmaster out of their dazes. Yuryam backed away even further in the darker corner of the hideout. Outlaws began standing up, confused and concerned, waiting to figure out what the hell was happening, and whether or not they had to do something about it.

Aloca was the fastest of them all. The bird rushed between the wolf and rodent in a bid to interrupt the conflict.

-- Okay, let's just take a moment. I take it you two know each other?

Yuryam felt like he was in a surreal mess of a bad dream. He quickly scrutinized the clueless faces, then hysterically pointed a finger to the wolf.

-- You idiots! Don't any of you recognize who this is?

Members of the guild dumbly looked to each other. The avian knight briefly turned to his companion.

"It's the freaking Lord and Emperor of Wulric! It's Darius!" Yuryam continued to shout.

The red-and-white avian laughed.

-- Of course not! Darius is dead. There's more than one black wolf in Wulric, Yuryam, calm down.

-- You absolute fool! I met him! This. Is. Darius!

Aloca chuckled for one more moment, and paused. Suddenly, he seemed to think, as if this new revelation explained too many oddities to be discarded. He laughed no longer when he faced the black wolf once more. The entire hideout went silent. He spoke, serious as a grave.

-- Are you Darius? Was that the name you refused to tell me?

The wolf frowned at Aloca, perhaps considering his options. At last, he straightened up defiantly.

-- So you know. Good. I was getting tired of this charade. Yes. I am the enemy you came here to slay, Aloca, and you are the one who was stupid enough to prevent my death. I did not desert. It is my country which betrayed and deserted me. I will get it back.

The bird breathed louder. The colorful, smiling knight that had been speaking with Yuryam moments ago now looked distorted with shock and fierce anger. He retained self-control, however. His voice was even.

-- You lied to me.

-- Whatever you say. I have no time for you. Nercur is insane, but if Mafida is alive, then the Ghosts will be loyal to me. I need to let him know that I am not dead, and then kill Nercur to get my throne back.

-- None of that will happen.

-- Stay out of my way, bird. This is the extent of the mercy you get for helping me. Try to stop me, and I won't need magic to cut you down. Your wing is broken.

-- You slaughtered countries. There can be no atonement for this.

Aloca stood differently. He crouched almost imperceptibly, but Yuryam could tell. A lifetime of getting in and out of trouble had taught him what a warrior preparing to draw his weapon looked like. His eyes never left Darius. The wolf mocked him.

-- And I thought I deserved the opportunity to do better, or some such foolishness? Now you show your true feelings. You are just as vengeful as I am, knight of the Sun.

-- Some people can't be redeemed.

-- Ha! barked Darius. Redeemed? From what? Being born an emperor? Yes. I carved myself an empire into the lands of others. Blood flowed. This is how you build the strength to last and fight the next threat. Make no mistake; others will do it if you don't. Unimportant peasants like you enjoy the luxury of being meek thanks to rulers like me. In my world, it is conquer or be conquered.

Aloca looked disgusted.

-- Your reason for acting like a monster is that monsters like you exist? How convenient. You're your own excuse. Pathetic.

-- People destroy their enemies. When you do it, Aloca, one perishes and you forgive yourself in the name of the greater good. When an emperor like me does it, an entire country is ravaged, and you call it unforgivable. We are not different. I merely have power, and you don't. Your judgments can't reach me. You are a worm. I am the Emperor of Wulric.

The avian scoffed meanly.

-- Yeah, and what a glorious and mighty emperor you are, now, miserable and abandoned. When I found you, you were waiting for death and wailing in your sleep! Where's all that power that you built?

Suddenly, it was clear that Aloca had managed to get under the giant wolf's skin. Yuryam was pretty sure he didn't condone the pissing off of lethal lupine warriors, but he was too hypnotized by the scene to escape. The tall avian knight obviously had no similar qualms, and was utterly delighted when Darius barked his aggressive response.

-- Go to hell, bird! I created the greatest nation in this world, and it was stolen! Everything! I am betrayed, but if you think this is over, you have as weak an understanding of power as Nercur! Low born like you can't grasp the duties and intricacies of power. You could never handle it! I will never let him or you destroy what I built! True power is legitimacy, and I am the rightful Emperor of Wulric!

-- You're deluding yourself. You have nothing left but the guilt of your crimes. Legitimacy comes from the bottom. That's what a true leader is. Someone who rules because the people under them need them. You think your people give a damn about you? The ones you conquered and killed? What they want is to be left alone. What they want is bread and peace so they can live their lives without power-hungry murderers like you!

-- Please, spare me your insipid take on matters about which you understand nothing. Everyone thinks they should rule. All little nobles have their own supporters. A claim has nothing to do with what the peasants think, it is meant to limit access to power. Without it, weak leaders would fight each other endlessly, and they know it, so they swear fealty. The emperor is necessary to ensure order, and none can beat my claim to the throne. I am the lawful owner of these lands by right of birth and conquest! Only I can replace Nercur, fool. If he falls without me, the world will tear apart and burn with the greatest civil war ever seen! All that my family created will be gone, and I will never allow this to happen! I must get the throne back! It is mine!

The bird and wolf warriors pinned each other down with their stares. Two willful, uncompromising forces that could only collide, obliterating everything in the general area of their impact, like a meteor. Yet, they appeared to calm down during this brief period of silence, as if they'd reached a somewhat better understanding of each other. Aloca smiled again. It was joyless. Suddenly, he seemed sorry.

-- I think we both know there's only one way this can be resolved.

Darius seemed to agree.

-- Your funeral. Outside?

-- Sure.

Yuryam and the other thieves watched as the pair simply left the hideout. This definitely seemed to spell the doom of his deal with the warriors. It felt strange for the rat to remain inside when the defeated Emperor of Wulric was about to duel this avian knight outside. In the end, he followed them from a distance. Though it seemed imprudent, he wanted to know what would happen. He couldn't ignore such an important event happening before his eyes. Whether Darius lived or died, this information could end up being very valuable.

They faced each other in the middle of the empty street, under the darkening sky. Darius pulled a rough greatsword from a sheath hanging at his back. Aloca used a lengthy spear with a steel tip. He left a bow behind, but also took a sword as a sidearm.

-- Don't you need time to do your silly thing with the war paint?

Aloca was taken aback.

-- I'd appreciate it a lot, yes.

-- Then go ahead. I will wait.

-- Thank you.

Yuryam had no idea what that was all about, but Aloca slowly knelt and appeared to pray for a few moments. Following this, he took a pouch of yellow paint and traced lines under his eyes and in various spots of his body. It was odd. When he was done, he seemed ready for combat. Yuryam remained at a safe distance.

"I'm thinking about your words," said Aloca. "Maybe you're right about one thing. When we remove General Nercur from power, there will be a violent struggle for Wulric and its conquered provinces. There won't be anyone obvious to step in."

-- I wouldn't worry about it, responded the wolf. I will be there to take control, though you won't get to see it.

-- I fear you may be underestimating my abilities in combat, Lord Darius.

-- You don't even have the courage to acknowledge your own ambitions. You are entirely controlled and repressed by endless rules imposed by your silly religion and your showy hypocritical morals. You are a servant, limited and enslaved, even in the depths of your mind. How tough can you be?

-- That's one way to see it. I believe it's you who are enslaved to your own impulses and desires. You seek to be the master of the world? You're not even the master of yourself! You blindly pursue needless power, and your ambition isn't tempered by any sort of respect for the lives of the people around you. There are always rules. Recognizing the rules you should obey, and knowing why, that's a sign of true strength. A principle that is evidently alien to you. You have no discipline.

-- Excuses justifying your spinelessness. Coward! You barely qualify as being alive. Now, I will make your death official!

The giant wolf leapt with a powerful growl, his wild dark shape splitting the air. It seemed impossible to Yuryam for anyone to be able to defend against the sweeping strike that he unleashed, with the full weight and speed of the warrior emperor behind it, and yet Aloca's spear spun masterfully and deflected the blow with its metal tip. Doing so once wasn't enough to face an enemy such as Darius, though, who boasted extreme endurance and aggression. Instantaneous strikes of undiminished power followed with a lupine roar of black anger, but Aloca rose to the challenge and met them all with his precise blade. Yuryam covered his ears and winced until the thunder of metal against metal diminished. He'd never seen anything like it.

The rat wasn't used to reading battle movements, and he couldn't fully keep up with the unfurling clash before his eyes. After the initial blows, Aloca had somehow bounded away to prevent Darius from pushing forward his lethal assault. The avian was incredibly light on his talons despite his size, and the wolf's brief annoyed grunt seemed to indicate that he too was vaguely startled by the inimitable way the bird moved. Even on land, Aloca floated unbound.

Once the bird was a mere step out of Darius' flurry, the battle appeared to turn around completely, at least to Yuryam's inexperienced eyes. Aloca stabbed decisively with his spear, flawlessly maintaining the exact advantageous distance he needed with his leg work, hopping in circles around his enemy. Darius blocked again and again, but after a few seconds, the rat thought he looked much less comfortable on the defensive, and a single mistake would be wholly unforgiving against the deadly jabs of the tribal knight.

Every once in a while, the dark-furred titan allowed one of the attacks to land on his bulky cuirass in an attempt to regain the offensive. He twisted and turned his body to prevent Aloca from striking a weak point, and looked for opportunities to cut the tip of the avian's spear with his blade, but the upper third of the wooden shaft was reinforced with steel, and the experienced spear fighter swiftly withdrew his weapon whenever Darius looked like he might succeed. The duel evolved at blinding speed, and Yuryam couldn't imagine how anyone could handle exchanging potentially fatal blows at this intensity.

Swinging his weighty greatsword had to be taking a toll on the wolf's endurance, though the solid beast didn't display the slightest hint of fatigue. To be fair, he moved well with his heavy armor, though he couldn't nearly match Aloca's dreamlike agility. In fact, Yuryam finally noticed an important detail that had escaped him until then.

The rat was no weapon master by any stretch of the imagination. He couldn't tell which of these monstrous fighters was the most skilled, or whose style had what advantages. On the other hand, as a thief trained into recognizing unique metals and valuable items, what he could tell was that the bird had the advantage in gear. The wolf was slowed down by his standardized legion armor, while the avian enjoyed much more amplitude of movement and flowed freely in and out of attacks. His fancy equipment had undoubtedly been customized for him, and crafted by expensive artisans in whatever lands he originated from. In fact, now that he paid more attention to it, Yuryam recognized that the plate covering Aloca's breast wasn't ordinary steel. It had a very discreet yet noticeable blue tint, which hinted at the strong possibility that it had been alloyed with tyranil ore. By itself, the rare blue ore was too frail to be of much use, but once heated and mixed with certain types of impure iron, it strengthened considerably, and allowed knowledgeable smiths to create much lighter steel without sacrificing strength. It suddenly made a lot of sense to Yuryam that avian countries would know and use this precious alloy to facilitate flight while in armor, and he wished he could get his hands on one such set of armor. It'd sell for a fortune!

Suddenly, despite the fact that Yuryam had believed him to be winning, Aloca disengaged. His beak cracked open as he breathed hard, and the thief realized that perhaps the bird was more tired than his opponent, yet Darius didn't pursue him. Both took a moment to recuperate. The bandits that had been peeking from inside the hideout continued to stream one by one out of the building to witness the duel happening right outside in the middle of the street. Most gathered close to the door, too intimidated to get any closer to the conflict. The two combatants considered each other more gravely than they did before. Having tasted the other's strength and skill granted them both a grave attitude. Aloca spoke first.

-- You're a strong opponent, Darius, but it's clear that I'll win. I've maintained control over this encounter every step of the way.

The wolf's muzzle grimaced in distaste.

-- Think of those foolish words, soon, when you agonize in your own blood.

-- Perhaps it'll be as you say, but most likely not. Didn't you feel it while we were fighting? You're close, certainly, but not quite a match for me. If you surrender, I won't hurt you.

Darius hissed.

-- You don't scare me, bird. I fear no one! You are the one trying to get out of this fight. You are exhausted, weakling.

-- Don't give me that, wolf! yelled Aloca. You were about to crumble under the pressure of my attacks! I stopped to give you a break. I have more than enough stamina to finish this, and you know it!

-- Prove it.

The bird was taken aback. He became pensive.

-- Really? Are you that confident that you'll win?

-- Yes.

-- So am I. What if we took a little bet, then?

Darius frowned.

-- A bet?

-- Death is nothing to warriors like us. We're no longer able to sense its empty gaze as it looms over us. So what if we fought for something more? Something that has more meaning to both of us.

-- Such as what?

-- You think your way is superior, I think mine is. You have no magic, I can't fly, and we're equally wounded. We're both convinced we'll win, so I guess in a way this makes it a fair fight. Here's what I propose: if I win, we do things my way. We'll use your claim, experience with power, and connections with the Ghosts to take the throne back from Nercur, but you'll take your troops out of every annexed land, and grant independence to any province that wishes it. You'll never again pursue any ambitions of conquest, and I'll be right next to you to ensure it. In the meantime, we'll help whoever needs it. If you win, we do things your way. I'll serve your claim and follow your commands obediently, whatever they are. You can regain your throne on your own terms.

Darius squinted dubiously, but he considered the proposal.

-- You arrogant bird! That isn't a fair deal. If you win, not only do I have to follow your infuriating lead, but I also have to keep ruling as you dictate even after Nercur is slain. You must offer more.

-- What else do you want?

Darius beamed darkly.

-- If I win, you will remain my property to be led as I desire even after I have regained my rightful place. I will break your damned pride and teach you humility and respect for your lord and master! I can't wait to see the sorry look over your droopy beak as you learn to kneel.

Aloca chuckled.

-- Fine, but if this is the way you want it, you'll also have to behave respectfully to me at all times if I win, and you also won't get to complain about my decisions. You'll be a good boy, and I'll remind you of your duties as often as necessary.

The knight stared sharply, mocking to the end.

"Maybe I'll even have you call me sir."

-- No, _you_will call me master, dumb bird!

-- Only if you win.

-- Fine! Deal.

-- Deal.

The two warriors challenged each other in silence for a minute. Yuryam circled around them slowly, keeping clear in case the violence erupted again, but he couldn't tear himself away completely. He needed to see.

-- How do we know the loser will fulfill their part of the bargain? finally asked Darius.

-- I guess we'll both find out what that other's honor is worth. I don't have any reason to doubt your word. If you swear, so do I. I won't betray my word like a disgraceful coward.

The wolf glared.

-- Neither will I. As you wish. You can be a useful tool for me. I will not spare you when you are mine. You will obey even if you have qualms about it.

-- Alright. And you'll spend the rest of your life earning forgiveness for the evils you caused.

Darius couldn't repress a light snarl.

-- Words can't express how satisfying it will be to collar you and rope your moralizing beak shut once and for all. I will pluck you like a chicken. You will cry and beg by the time I am finished with you!

-- That's the spirit! said Aloca. First, though, you'll need to kick my feathery ass, and I know for a fact that you don't have what it takes.

Darius required no further invitation; he lifted his greatsword overhead, and openly attempted to slice Aloca in two. The bird slid sideways, nimbly dodging his impending doom while thrusting his spear toward his opponent's guts, precisely where the legion breastplate ended.

Yuryam didn't get these two. Weren't they supposed to _not_be fighting to the death anymore? The rat failed to see how getting split into vertical halves or being impaled through the belly could result into anything other than someone's very final moments.

Nevertheless, the expert fighters apparently knew what they were doing, because neither died when Darius managed to knock the spear aside with his protected left arm, unable to bring the full weight of his sword back up in time to deflect. In a blink of the eye, Aloca capitalized on the wolf's briefly open center by letting his weapon get knocked out of alignment in order to shove into the massive beast shoulder first. Darius stumbled backward, unbalanced at last while he swung his blade back up to a useful position with his other arm. He barked with surprise at the unexpected technique, but soon Yuryam observed that he had some tricks up his sleeve as well.

Aloca boldly dove to exploit the opening he'd created, launching a ruthless sweep at Darius' left leg. This time, the avian committed fully, placing his considerable weight behind the strike to bring his durable target down. Amazingly, the wolf was quick enough to plunge his greatsword between two stones of the pavement, blocking the attack with a terrible thwack of wood against metal. By the time Yuryam processed what had happened, he noted that Darius was grinning and had his left paw pinning the tip of the spear down against the stone. The shaft curved impressively, but didn't break.

The bird refused to release his pinned weapon, showing himself willing to fight the wolf in a contest of brute strength for control over his weapon, something that he couldn't realistically expect to win. Without a moment's pause, Aloca unsheathed his sidearm with his left hand and stabbed toward the wolf, obliterating everyone's expectations once more. Even Yuryam gasped in shock.

Caught off guard by the effortlessly ambidextrous nature of the continued assault, Darius completely abandoned his own stuck blade to grab Aloca's arm as the sharp end of the short sword superficially pierced his naked shoulder, where his pauldron used to be. The black wolf grunted in pain and exertion, as he discovered exactly how dedicated his opponent was. With one hand, he held the shaft of the bird's spear stable to keep it pinned under his powerful paw; with the other, he had to prevent Aloca's light but sharp blade from digging any further into his thick hide. The avian held his own, though he wasn't as muscular as the dire wolf. Darius looked confounded.

-- I thought you were an archer, he snickered glumly.

The adamant bird gazed coldly.

-- I am.

Both figures struggled against each other in an open contest of raw strength.

Yuryam couldn't understand what he was seeing. Sure, Aloca was athletic and obviously rugged in his own right, but it didn't seem possible for him to challenge Darius in a contest of pure force and win! Who was that unknown foreigner that could stand up to the ex-emperor of Wulric, a ruler obsessed with military prowess, who'd trained with the best weapon masters money could buy?

At once, Yuryam saw the detail that had escaped his attention: Aloca's talons! The sharp claws digging between the edges of the stones that paved the street offered the hawk a much better grip than Darius' clawed paws. The wolf slowly slipped backward, wasting his immense strength due to his inferior grip. Soon, the avian's main weapon would be free once more, and the wolf was disarmed. The rat didn't need to be an expert to understand where the fight would go from there. Aloca took another critical step forward, and his spear was almost free.

Darius refused to give up, though, and grasping what was happening, he put everything into one final move, releasing the spear to wind up and deliver a brutal kick so heavy and sudden that Yuryam gasped at the sight.

Aloca dodged it.

No. It was more than that. Aloca had been waiting for it. The avian knight opened his beak in triumph as he pulled his freed spear and immediately twisted aside, whacking Darius over the side of his head with the shaft. Darius did his best to protect himself with his arm, but the blow was still considerably violent. The pain and impact loosened Darius' grip on Aloca's other arm. The bird escaped the stunned wolf's reach, threatening his enemy with both weapons and positioning himself between him and his greatsword. Darius had nothing left to protect himself, and fought merely to remain standing as he covered his head with his left arm.

"You lost," said Aloca.

The angered lord responded nothing. He stared hatefully and kept a fighting stance. The avian knight dropped his sword and began using his spear as a staff, holding it in the middle.

"You lost, face it!" he repeated.

Aloca immediately threatened to strike at Darius' head once more with the sharp end of his spear, but revealed the feint and swiftly struck low with the blunt end, catching the wolf's left leg and sending him down heavily on his back. The thud of his skull hitting the ground made Yuryam wince. There was no longer any way to deny Aloca's victory. The wolf barked in pain as Aloca stepped around him and placed the steel tip of his spear at his throat. With his right leg, the bird pressed on top of the armor to maintain his beaten opponent down. Darius went instantly silent. Aloca breathed deep.

"I saw you use that kick when we fought against the demon. It was so impressive, I remembered it."

They looked like a sculpture of some unknown mythical scene, unmoving. Yuryam attempted to read the expression of the beaten wolf, but he failed. There was something disturbing about it. A strange sort of despair, or maybe terror? A fear much greater than the fear of death could ever be. It didn't last long and was gone without a trace. It was replaced with absolute seething rage. Darius rolled over to the side, and Aloca allowed it. He simply stood with his weapons drawn.

-- This wasn't fair! the wolf viciously barked. You tricked me! We should have fought on soft earth, not in the street, where you have the superior grip!

Aloca quietly shook his head.

-- Don't do this. It's done, and it's beneath a warrior like you to look for excuses. It isn't my fault if you failed to consider every factor I could use to my advantage. If it wasn't the stones, it would've been something else. It's as I said: you were never quite on my level. Still, you agreed to the fight. Now, you lost and you know it. Come on, it'll be fine. We still have a lot of work to do.

The avian doubled over and offered his hand. The downed armored wolf bitterly refused to take it at first, showing off contempt for Aloca. Suddenly, however, something occurred that Yuryam thought was odd. Lord Darius froze and shrugged, after which he accepted the foreign knight's help to stand back up.

-- Whatever, said the wolf. This changes nothing. We still have to get my throne back, and we will probably die trying. This entire duel was meaningless.

-- That's not a very positive way to think about it, but I guess you're not entirely wrong.

It was beyond suspicious to Yuryam to see how quickly Darius -- of all people -- had accepted defeat. The rat had known many liars during his life, and he was far from convinced the wolf had any real intention to fulfill his side of the bargain, in the long run. The bird didn't look bothered by that possibility, but then again, Aloca had proven to be quite naïve, in the rodent's opinion. Not that it really was any of his business. On the other hand...

Darius pouted, but it looked as if the conflict was passed. Thus, Yuryam realized that he still hoped he might get hired by the duo, despite the unexpected development. He sure didn't want anything to do with the disgraced emperor, but unless the pair's plan had changed, they may yet require his help. That could still be his best chance to get the heck out of this ravaged, scorching land, at last!

A few Sunlander bandits kept looking on with curiosity, but others apparently felt that an ex-emperor's fate wasn't that big of a deal if the fighting was over. In their view, Darius was yesterday's news.

Exceedingly carefully, the rogue approached the warriors in the nightly street. Darius bandaged his shoulder while Aloca was busy wiping the mysterious yellow lines painted in his feathers.

-- So... will you guys need my services, then?

-- Are you still here? grumbled the dire wolf. You slimy Melnian rat!

-- No, he's right, intervened Aloca. We need to purchase his services, regardless of your history together.

-- Ha! mocked Darius. We aren't going to pay him anything. He tried to steal from me in order to help Nercur kill me. I spared his worthless life when he failed. He owes me. Besides, he knows he can't stay here for long. Nercur will come for him, so he is desperate to run back to Melnia. _He_might as well pay _us_to get him back home safely.

Aloca seemed terribly interested in that information. Yuryam didn't like hearing that at all, especially considering how true it was.

-- Is that so? asked the avian.

Yuryam took a step back when Darius walked toward him. He protested, suddenly afraid that his potential profit from this deal had shrunk to even less than zero.

-- Now, wait a minute...

Before he could do anything, Darius had unexpectedly grabbed him by the legs, and the giant wolf effortlessly lifted him up. The world spun upside down and blood rushed to Yuryam's head as he struggled inefficiently.

"Hey! What are you doing, you loopy? Cut it out!"

Darius ignored the protests and began shaking Yuryam up and down. Bullying the rat seemed to improve his mood. Coins trickled from the thief's many pockets and purses in a shiny jingling rain, falling into a moonlit puddle of bronze and copper. He urgently tried to cling to as much money as possible with his hands, to no avail.

"No! Come on, you guys! That's mine! I earned, like, most of this with legit hard labor for months! Please! Aloca!"

The avian approached, but he didn't appear inclined to stop the wolf immediately.

-- You're a thief. Are you seriously going to complain about this?

-- But, but-

Aloca began to collect the coins and looked up at Darius.

-- Take it easy, don't hurt him. As for you, rat, you may consider this our fee for your protection until we reach Melnia. It seems that you need us more than we need you, after all.

He finished collecting the money and stood in front of the wolf's nose.

"We'll use this to pay that poor innkeeper for the rounds you bought, and the damage to his establishment."

-- Forget it, responded Darius while he dropped Yuryam like a rock. We won't waste good money on this old fool's filthy inn! We need that money to get to Melnia. It won't be simple to cross the Wulrician borders.

Aloca laid down the law without hesitation or further mercy for the wolf's freshly bruised pride.

-- No. I said we'd pay the old man, and that's exactly what I'll do first thing tomorrow. I won't tolerate you complaining about this.

-- I am not complaining, brainless bird! I am explaining why your decision is stupid. Us getting rid of Nercur is a more important cause than rebuilding some random inn lost in an overcooked Sunlander hole of a town, even if it may indirectly be our fault!

-- Yeah? Well, from now on, if you wish to explain why I'm wrong about something, it'll start with: "Sir Aloca, I humbly wish to propose an alternative." Otherwise, it counts as complaining. We do things my way, so I make the final decisions. If you disagree, you shut up, follow, and do as I say anyway. Got it? Unless you admit that you're too much of a child to be held to your own word? Is that it? Are you a spiritless loser who can't even step on his own pride?

Darius boiled. For a moment, Yuryam thought he was about to attack Aloca once again, but he didn't.

-- No, I got it.

Aloca grinned maliciously.

-- You got it, what?

Darius went completely blank.

-- You are kidding.

-- Am I?

There was a lengthy pause while Yuryam slowly got back up. He couldn't believe what he was witnessing. Darius gritted his sharp fangs so loudly the rat could hear it, yet he stood there and took it while the bird gladly put him in his place. The thief was starting to realize that Aloca could absolutely be a cocky bastard as well.

"Say it, you know you have to. If you don't have the willpower to do it, you truly aren't worth your throne, and you'll surely never get it back."

It seemed that Darius had to forcefully extract the words from the darkest, farthest depths of his heart. It was visibly as pleasant as pouring hot lead into his ears.

-- I got it... sir.

-- Good boy! See? It wasn't so hard, was it? A touch of humility won't kill you.

The dark muzzle twitched, about to open and unleash a storm of very offensive words at the hawk, but the wolf miraculously contained himself and remained mute. Aloca finally adopted a more conciliatory tone.

"We can gather more money on the way. First, we settle our debts with the honest people of this land. What will the Sunlanders think of us, otherwise?"

-- Nothing. They don't care about us. They don't know us. I don't give a damn what they think of me.

-- Maybe you should. Usually, people with self-respect mind the opinions of others. In the morning, I'll go back and pay what we owe. That's final.

-- You will never accomplish anything with this sentimental attitude. You need to be able to establish priorities.

-- Kicked your butt, didn't I? That's something I accomplished. Besides, your only priority is yourself. I won't play into that.

Darius frowned gloomily but he stayed silent, turning his back to Aloca. The rat beat dirt out of his clothes, with his dignity severely damaged, but that was nothing compared to what he felt about the fact that he wasn't going to get anything out of guiding Darius and Aloca to Melnia. He hated working for nothing! It was just like that initiation burglary job he'd had to perform years before for the Long Shadows, for which initiates weren't allowed to get a cut. It was considered symbolic "payment" for the training he'd received. Brainless, miserable tradition!

Yuryam was on the verge of tears at the thought of all that profit he was going to_not get_. If only they could hurry and go to Melnia already! This cursed period of his life might end, and things would become simple again. Small easy jobs. That's what he would do. Didn't need wealth. He'd never ever again whine about his life being too ordinary. Not ever!

With Darius' identity revealed, the warriors deemed it too risky to head back to the hideout. Though they never asked for his views about the situation, Yuryam fully agreed. If a single one of the thieves decided that there might be a decent reward for turning Darius in, they would reveal his location to General Nercur's forces. In fact, it would be prudent to get out of town as swiftly as possible.

Tempers cooled down as they travelled further along the dusty alleys of Kalteh until they were far from the town center, and picked a dark spot hidden between a small decrepit butcher's shop that looked like it still hadn't reopened since the supply lines to the city had been restored, and an old shrine dedicated to the Sun God. Aloca and Darius dropped their packs and equipment before they sat down against the wooden wall of the shop. The night was getting cold in this cloudless country, yet Darius made sure to sit a good four or five steps away from the avian.

Yuryam was even more dispirited when he understood that the plan was to sleep there in a cold alley. He started to wonder if it was really worth it to follow these guys. Then again, he wanted to get to Melnia as fast as possible, at any cost, and since they'd just taken his money, he didn't really have much of a choice. In a way, he was still somewhat fortunate that Darius hadn't ripped his head off.

To change his mind, and despite the increasing cold, the rat wandered close by toward the shrine. There, he stood in front of the tattered altar, which held a circle of dried spines from some unknown plant. Those clearly represented the holy radiance. He was astonished to also discover three plates at the base of the shrine. The Three States were a symbol of Moon worship, and whoever took care of the shrine had bothered to fill half of the second plate with offerings of wheat, as well as the full third plate. The first plate had appropriately been left empty.

Yuryam was pretty sure the Sunlanders didn't worship the Night Goddess, and yet finding this small trace of their unambiguous respect for his deity made him feel more welcome and thankful than he'd been for a long time. Genuinely touched, he knelt before the Three States and asked the Moon for help clearing up the confusion and solitude in which he found himself. Even though this holy place was dedicated to a different god, he felt her calming touch wash over his mind, and fell into a profound yet restful meditation that cleansed his hesitations. In the grand scheme of things, it didn't matter if he couldn't make profit from this voyage. What mattered to him was getting home, where he was safe, and where he would be able to get a fresh start. A gift of perspective from his Mistress.

Several minutes later, when the rat rose -- partly encouraged by the drop in temperature -- he was appeased. Before he left the shrine, however, he offered a thought for the Sun, whose followers had thought of him. He stood straight with his arms alongside his body, palms facing forward, and remained there for several seconds. Even if he didn't truly sense any connection with the deity of this land, his desire to return the respect that had been shown to him in this shrine was pure, and it made him happy to show it to the brightest star.

Somehow, as Yuryam walked away from the shrine, he didn't feel quite as cold.

The warriors he accompanied sat still and silent. Aloca had wrapped himself in a blanket and stared drowsily in front of him. Darius merely had his arms locked around his drawn legs. He didn't seem to shiver too much. Next to him, a folded blanket similar to Aloca's waited uselessly. The wolf spitefully ignored it. Aloca beckoned calmly.

-- Thief... Yuryam. Sit with me, if you want.

Yuryam approached and sat close to Aloca, who generously extended his blanket to cover him. The rat accepted it. It seemed wiser, though he curiously felt warm since he'd left the shrine. Aloca spoke softly, glancing at his companion inquisitively.

"I didn't think Melnians like you worshipped the Sun."

Yuryam shook his head.

-- I don't.

-- That looked like a Sun Salutation that I saw you do at the shrine. Traditionally, it's done at dawn, you know, so you can actually... salute the Sun.

Yuryam chuckled, slightly embarrassed.

-- You saw that, eh? I know, I know. I didn't mean any disrespect.

-- I didn't think you did. I was merely wondering.

-- I went to pray to my own deity. I wished to acknowledge the Sun God too, since that's his shrine. Did you notice that they have the Three States in there?

Aloca seemed unaware.

-- Three States?

-- It's three plates that symbolize different states of the Night Goddess. One is empty, one is half-filled with offerings, one is full. It's something you find frequently in Moon temples.

-- I noticed the plates in other shrines before, but I had no idea what it meant. I believed it was a peculiarity about the way Sunlanders worship the Sun God. We don't do this where I come from.

-- It's not. It's directly tied to Moon worship.

Aloca nodded.

-- I see. I'd like to learn more about the Moon religion, sometime. Do you think you could teach me about it, now and then?

-- Um, sure, if you'd like.

Darius grumbled threateningly, so Yuryam and Aloca continued their talk by whispering softly. Though Darius acted annoyed and turned away, the rat couldn't help but observe that the wolf's sensitive ear inconspicuously oriented itself toward them. He wisely pretended not to notice. The wolf could eavesdrop if he wanted.

They spoke of the Three States, and how they were meant to remind believers of the complexity and changing nature of the world. To Moon worshippers, wisdom was the ability to adapt and understand truths from all angles, carefully and soberly, to strengthen one on their eternal path to enlightenment. It was about knowing that even the most powerful, genuine feelings and impressions can betray, and that one should always look deeper than the surface if they are to grasp the meaning of their presence in the world. Their faith was concerned with the notion of light in the dark, of wresting order from apparent chaos. Followers of the Night celebrated carefulness, self-confidence and mysticism.

Yuryam tried to explain this as best he could, and Aloca listened, occasionally asking for a clarification or comparing some elements to his own beliefs. The rat enjoyed their whispering talk quite a lot. Aloca's interest was evidently sincere, and he left Yuryam the impression of an insightful person. As the night went on, they slowed down gradually, increasingly tired, and soon both jokingly agreed that it was best to go to sleep before Darius attempted to bite them for their annoying whispering.

Emerging from his restful state was challenging for Yuryam, a few hours later in the early morning. His back and rear hurt a bit from sleeping in a sitting position, and he rumbled under his blanket, falling to the side and tightening the soft fabric around him. The odd warmth he'd felt during the night was gone, but with the sun rising quickly, the crisp air wouldn't be a problem for long. Even in their dark alley wedged between a wall and the fence surrounding the shrine, the arrival of daylight couldn't exactly be ignored. Yuryam rubbed his eyes with a complaining squeak and forced himself out of the blanket. Only then did he realize that Aloca was already up and about, welcoming the return of his blinding deity and communing with it at the shrine a few meters away, on the other side of the fence.

Darius finished gearing up. He threw a neutral glance to the rat, probably measuring how soon they would be ready to depart. He nodded, content that Yuryam had decided to get up. The wolf looked in a better mood, now that morning had returned and that a new day was beginning. Yuryam felt it too. The catastrophes of the past months faded away. Despite the pains from sleeping in the streets and a slight lack of sleep that made his eyes burn and caused his stomach to be easily upset, he was... weirdly enthused about travelling with his new companions. Both of them could snap him in half without effort, true. He trusted Aloca, however, and in a way, knowing that even Lord Darius no longer hated him due to that job he did for Nercur reassured him. He only had the jackal general to worry about, from that moment on. Soon enough, he'd be back in Melnia. Back to his old life.

His old life...

Yuryam shook his head. For some reason, he suddenly felt stressed out. He gathered his very few things to be ready to go when Darius and Aloca would decide that it was time, and he folded the blanket to place it back into the bird's travel bag. As soon as he resumed focusing on this comfortable morning, and the journey immediately ahead of them, his worries dissipated. The freshness would quickly change to scorching heat, as with every day in the Sunlands. In the meantime, the rat loved this vibrantly colored dawn.

Darius joined him. Together, they walked out of their tiny alley and around the fence. It suddenly struck Yuryam's mind that the person right next to him had pretty much been the ruler of the world, up until a few weeks prior. The eeriness gave him vertigo. For the first time, he was compelled to detail the black wolf; to really pay attention to how much he'd changed.

Though it was indisputable that this was indeed the ex-emperor of Wulric, Darius looked nothing like he used to. His fur had reverted to its natural unkempt wildness, and it was uneven, as massive patches of it covering his face and body were shorter from having... burned, maybe? He no longer wore flawlessly engraved pieces of regal-looking armor, instead using plain iron and a worn out greatsword with blunt edges. Rough living, wounds and many bandages -- some still bloody -- made him the perfect image of a banal lupine thug, if a particularly intimidating one. Only his rigid stance and the way he spoke remained as small hints of the fact that, not so long ago, he'd been a grand untouchable figure, near godlike in power and influence. In retrospect, Yuryam wasn't so surprised that Aloca and the others had failed to recognize the emperor.

Here they were, preparing to hit the road as if this whole situation wasn't completely out of the ordinary. And it felt right. That being said, Yuryam made sure to maintain a respectable distance from Darius when they moved. The rat stood firmly opposed to making strong and dangerous people angry.

Aloca had already performed his Sun Salutation, but he wasn't quite done praying when Darius and Yuryam arrived at the shrine, so they gave him a few minutes to finish. Without a word, the wolf patiently folded his arms and leaned against one of the four stone obelisks that flanked the shrine. A very weak smirk even cracked his muzzle. After a minute or two, Aloca stood. Yuryam handed him his bag.

-- Are you done already with your silly bullshit, sir? mocked the wolf.

-- Yes, yes I am. Thank you.

Darius looked to Aloca and then Yuryam.

-- I heard you talking, last night. You both are crazy if you think your precious gods have any reason to care about you. If I was a god, I most certainly wouldn't mind lowly mortals like us.

Aloca laughed.

-- I can assure you that you're in no danger of being anything close to a god, so it makes sense that you can't see things from their perspective. Only a being of supreme power can afford to be entirely altruistic. They have nothing to gain or to lose.

Darius seemed about to respond when an elderly woman startled everyone with her sneaky approach. She was a black-backed jackal, though, in her case, all black fur had turned to a tired shade of grey. The tomb of the earth obviously pulled at her strongly, curbing her back, but the bony old thing clearly had no intention to give up her grip on life, displaying a strong balanced stance and deep golden eyes emphasized by thick black lines. Yuryam never had a single doubt that she'd survive the next hundred years.

Holding a basket full of fresh wheat and a spiny branch of some kind of desert shrub, she fearlessly strolled right in-between the trio of armed foreigners and placed her basket down. Obviously, she was the one who maintained the shrine. Yuryam was about to ask Aloca to thank her for her efforts, when she turned to the intruders and began talking fast and loud in Sunlander, pointing a withered arm accusingly to Darius, Aloca and Yuryam, one after the other. The rat didn't understand, but he was pretty sure she wasn't saying anything nice. It made him sad, but he understood. Sunlanders had no reason to be very happy with foreigners since their lands had been brutally invaded, and he couldn't dislike the nasty hag that respected other people's faiths enough to make offerings to their god in their absence. All they could do was go, and Aloca looked as if he agreed. Of course, he could understand whatever curses she was sending their way.

"Yeah, uh, we'd better leave," he said.

-- What is she saying? asked Yuryam.

-- It's best if you don't know, grinned Aloca. Suffice to say she would prefer it if we went away.

-- Or else what? scoffed Darius, unfolding his arms. Is she going to slaughter us with her basket?

Aloca hurried and moved away from the hail of threats and insults with the others.

-- She probably could! Come on, let's run before she gets irritated.

-- We wouldn't want to risk that, added Darius.

The group fled along the street in this absurd retreat from an ancient lady that could've been blown off into the sky by a passably strong gust. For a brief moment, they accidentally had fun, and Yuryam almost felt like they were a real team.

A few minutes passed and the trio reached one of the main roads in the center of Kalteh. Some villagers were starting to get busy with whatever work they could find, and legionaries quickly showed up, surveying the traffic for easy shakedowns. They also threw frequent glares to the group, which worried Yuryam, but he said nothing. Aloca stopped and swiveled to face the wolf and rat.

-- So, what's our first move?

The warriors eyed Yuryam.

-- Um, well, our priority should be to gather some dry food and enough water for at least a two weeks march. Getting out of the Sunlands will be cake, no one's going to stop us with the current chaos. Except maybe highway robbers, but I assume you two can take care of that?

-- You assume well, nodded Darius with a mean grin.

-- Good. We can resupply in the Old Kingdom of Wulric, but crossing that will require a lot more resources and preparation. We have to get off the main roads when we get there, and find a local guide.

-- He is correct, intervened Darius. The border and main roads will be defended. Isn't that what we keep you for, though? To guide us around the obvious paths?

-- I don't know the lay of the land for the entire world! protested Yuryam. I contribute my expertise in travelling incognito, and my expertise says that we get a local guide that doesn't like to talk too much! We'll have to go slow and careful. It might take months. Of course, it would be easier if we had enough money to bribe the guards...

Yuryam gave Aloca a pointed look. The bird shook his head.

-- No. This money is going to the innkeeper before we leave. I'm not discussing this. I'm sure we'll find opportunities to gather some silver on the way for supplies and a guide.

Darius shrugged.

-- Besides, my soldiers, I mean, Nercur's soldiers would never take your bribe. Not the ones defending the homeland.

Yuryam giggled brazenly.

-- Yeah, you tell yourself that, wolf. Anyway, once we get to Melnia, we'll be out of the woods. With the strength of the current anti-Wulric sentiment, it'll be easy to hide from Nercur and his troops. I'll bring you both to the Long Shadows, and they'll handle everything for you. They can send whatever message to whomever you like without anyone other than the recipient ever knowing about it, even if that recipient lives in the White Castle itself, and happens to be the leader of the Ghosts. It'll cost you, but I'm sure you'll be able to find ample work opportunities in Melnia. Maybe even for the Long Shadows. That'll be your problem, though. Our paths split when we get to my guild. That's our plan. Fine with you?

-- Agreed, said Aloca.

-- Fine with me, said Darius. What matters to me is that Nercur suffers for his betrayal. Once Mafida knows that I am still alive, it shall all fall together.

It wasn't really any of his business, and he definitely didn't wish for Darius to change his mind about going to Melnia, but Yuryam couldn't stop himself from expressing his doubts.

-- Are you completely sure about this? I've heard that the Ghosts are sworn to General Nercur, now. He kicked up an intense recruitment and training program to replace their fallen. No one has ever seen anything like this before. They call them the New Ghosts, now.

-- I haven't said anything about it, added Aloca, but I can't help but agree with Yuryam. How are you so certain that this Mafida guy will side with you?

Darius recoiled into a slightly defensive posture.

-- He will! You people don't know him like I do. You haven't seen the way events unfolded on that day. Even when the entire army turned on us, Mafida and the Ghosts fought to protect me to the last. They enabled me to retreat. The Ghosts are loyal. They don't betray their promises. If Mafida sided with Nercur, it must be because he believes I am dead. When he learns that I live, he will help us slay the traitor.

-- Alright, alright, whispered Aloca. We believe you, don't get too excited.

Yuryam stared around nervously.

-- Did you guys notice how the legionaries keep glaring at us? What's their problem?

-- I'm afraid we overstayed our welcome, explained the bird. We've given them plenty of reasons to dislike us. Or maybe the rumor has already spread that the emperor is in town. We should hurry up and leave Kalteh as soon as possible. Here.

Aloca gave a handful of coins back to Yuryam.

"Use this to buy supplies for our trip. I'll run and bring the rest to the innkeeper, and then we're gone. Meet here in thirty minutes."

-- Sounds good, said the rat.

The giant wolf defiantly stood in plain sight, in the street, challenging the soldiers to dare attempt something.

-- I will wait here. Move fast. Something is up.

Aloca and Yuryam split in opposite directions. The rodent walked quickly and inconspicuously, but he struggled to find a market street that wasn't closed down completely. After a while, he started becoming more paranoid, but he was dead certain that it wasn't unfounded. Wulrician soldiers looked at him, and one even discreetly followed him. A Long Shadow knew when they were being tailed!

Yuryam made a brutal turn in a tight alley and flattened along the side of a building, right past the corner. He waited until the sound of a running soldier reached him, and used his enchanted dagger to disappear. The soldier ran right past while Yuryam emerged from the alley without delay as he reappeared. That confirmed it. The soldiers were indeed aware of them. The thief didn't like that, but he also knew Aloca and Darius could take care of themselves. He truly did need to get supplies, especially water. Heading out onto the desert roads without it was suicide.

Yuryam walked on for several minutes, and lost track of time as he desperately looked for some kind of shop. Damnit! There was no time for this! At last, he heard the distant sounds of haggling in a semi-busy market street. He dashed in this direction as fast as possible.

The Sunlanders in the stalls appeared vaguely afraid of the rat, since many Melnians fought in the legions, but they did want his money. The selection of goods was somewhat limited, so Yuryam bought what he could, including many skins that he filled with water at the well in the middle of the street. As he finished doing so, he heard a voice mention the name "Darius". The sound came from behind a stall, where two soldiers were speaking. They were clearly not the usual variety of soldiers from the occupying force; those were geared lightly for dry, hot weather. In contrast, these guys wore bulky iron plates, which were also slightly fancier, and the metal was darker, with more impurities, like that which was smelted in the province of Melnia and the Wulrician heartland. There was a red wolf and a brown stallion with a few white dots on the back of his neck. Neither species originated from the Old Kingdom, but their accents instantly betrayed that they'd lived most of their lives there.

These guys were from Mergan, the Wulrician capital.

Yuryam snuck up to them, and hid against the front of the stall, causing confusion in the Sunlander merchant attempting to sell her bread, but the rat ignored her. He listened.

-- ... Not sure what we're doing here. Why would he have stayed in this sunblasted hole all this time? No one even speaks the language. The info better be real.

-- I get you, really, but I still think this beats guarding that damned death trap of a place all day. Leave it to the Melnians, I say. Never sure when a bolt is going to strike the wrong damn spot and take the entire construction site out, not to mention that insane mine, leaving only a damn crater and the smell of vaporized assholes like you and me. It happened, you know! An entire cohort, pssht! Reduced to smoke.

-- That's a rumor, laughed the red wolf.

-- Whatever! We get blown up, and that's not a rumor! Who would even go there, I mean willingly, aside from us? What are we defending it from? I think the general is a teeny bit off his nut.

-- C'mon, don't say stuff like that, especially with the Ghosts around. I don't need the trouble. Besides, I dunno. I mean, what if it works? How crazy would that be? Bah, we're not supposed to talk about this either. See, you're the reason I always get chewed out by the commander.

The horse laughed.

-- Right, but the commander's dead, now. General Nercur said we're free.

-- Oh ya? Then what are we doing here, huh? Trust me, man. There's _always_a commander. Title or not, there's some guy you shouldn't disobey, or else. We all know it. Used to be the nobles, now it's whoever has the closest ties to the General.

-- I guess you're right. Pay's better, though.

-- That's true. Pay's better. Haha! Hail the Emperor!

-- Hail the Emperor! Now, let's do our job and make sure Darius or his followers aren't trying to slip out through here. If he even is here...

Yuryam had heard enough. He was dumbfounded. The Ghosts were in Kalteh, along with reinforcements from the legions? And what was that about a construction site? It sounded like they were talking about the Jagged Fields, in Melnia, but it was strictly impossible. No one went there. The Jagged Fields were a cursed area, an elevated plateau of charred dead lands, permanently covered by invincible dark storm clouds, and stripped bare to blackened rock by the constant hammering of unimaginably violent thunder strikes. It never stopped or eased down. That place hadn't seen the sun for thousands of years. It made no sense. Regardless, Darius, Aloca and himself were all in much more immediate danger than anything they'd expected! Nercur's troops had come for them, and were trying to encircle them!

The rogue swiftly escaped and grabbed his purchases, running to warn his companions in time. Given their past association, and the fact that it hadn't ended very well, Yuryam feared Nercur might have sent his armies after him as well! As he ran, he could barely believe he was so terrified for his life. He'd promised himself that he'd never be in that kind of situation again, but that crap had caught up with him! How could he be so utterly unlucky? Why couldn't this end? Worse! What if he arrived at the meeting point, and it was already too late? What if Darius and Aloca had been caught and executed? What would he do then? Where would he hide with an entire army looking for him?

An immense weight was lifted from his shoulders when the rat arrived, breathless, and saw that Darius and Aloca were both waiting for him, obviously displeased at the time it took him to return. He met them and tried to catch his breath. He felt as if his beating heart would bury his words.

-- What took you so long? barked Darius.

-- Ghosts... Legions... Here!

The warriors turned concerned when they saw how upset Yuryam was.

-- Calm down, buddy, said Aloca. Tell us what happened.

-- No time! Nercur's soldiers, they're know Darius is here, and they're looking for him, and us too, I think. They know he's not alone. We have to get the hell out, now! There's more! They said stuff about-

Darius interrupted the rat by raising his dark padded hand. He gawked blankly at something behind Yuryam. Aloca soon noticed, and when he stared in the same direction, the avian knight became grave. He murmured a very short prayer while he quickly dipped his fingers into his pouch of yellow paint, urgently traced lines under his eyes, and drew his spear. With one hand on the rat's shoulder, he pulled Yuryam behind him. Slowly, the rat turned around.

A small group of half a dozen soldiers were approaching steadily. Their armors were the same as the modernized versions of legion armor that Yuryam had seen earlier, except that theirs all had the same rune engraved into their breastplates, signifying "Ghost". Leading them, a hardened-looking lynx detached from the group by a few steps. He looked both unhappy to be there, and exceedingly determined. Yuryam thought he had a decent instinct for evaluating people, and this battleaxe-wielding feline soldier scared him. As an outlaw, he'd never liked single-minded people with whom he couldn't negotiate. People that couldn't go against their own rigid principles always ended up doing the most extreme things... Yuryam preferred the corrupt.

More legionaries from the occupying force were appearing all around them, keeping their distance, but with mean vengeful grins on their faces. Yuryam was understandably terrified and moved even closer to Darius and Aloca. The only thing that prevented him from sinking into sheer panic was the fact that his warrior companions remained stalwart in the face of this unexpected development. Somehow, the notion that these epic fighters were there to protect him made him feel better, even in the face of hopeless, overwhelming odds. Their calm contaminated him.

Aloca instantly recognized that situation for what it was, as Yuryam did, but Darius appeared unsure. These were the people he wanted to contact, and they'd come for him by themselves. This obviously destroyed the notion that they weren't aware he was alive, yet Darius appeared pleased to see the lynx. The ex-emperor stepped forward.

-- Mafida. I have been working to contact you. I wished to speak with you.

The lynx ceased approaching with his men when he was close enough to talk. He sounded polite and surprisingly sympathetic, but Yuryam recognized the darkly detached expression of someone preparing to kill.

-- I'm here, sir. We've been searching for you as well.

-- I see that. Are you here to join me?

The feline warrior slowly shook his head from left to right. Darius took a few seconds to process this. The wolf winced as if he was in physical pain. Even if Yuryam didn't hold too much affection for him, he couldn't help but feel really bad for the forsaken emperor. The rat had never seen anyone look so bitter. In a subtle, probably unconscious gesture, Darius' left hand pressed against his armored chest while he grimaced.

"This is what we have come to, then. Betrayal is all I get, even from you. I believed you would help, but you are a coward like the rest of the Ghosts. You serve the usurper. There was no truth to your oath."

Some of the soldiers around showed mocking grins, but not the Ghosts, and definitely not Mafida. The feline from the north sounded profoundly wounded.

-- You're unfair, sir. I don't accept your judgment of me or my brothers. We served loyally.

-- Until the moment things got tough, and then you turned on me and joined Nercur. You are all trash, and your presence here revolts me.

Fury seized the reddish lynx in a flash, and he suddenly pointed one arm to his previous liege.

-- You know what, sir? Screw you! When the tides turned, I fought by your side to the end! I was prepared to give my life. In a way, I did, along with so many others who were slaughtered like beasts to keep their oath to you. I truly expected to be slain when we were finally disarmed and beaten, and we knelt in the metallic dirt of that tomb of a crater where you'd taken us! Everything we did, that day, we did to fulfill our word. But the general didn't want us dead. He said we were the purest soldiers he'd ever known. He remembered that we were just like him. He asked me and my few surviving and wounded brothers to lead and train the next generation of Ghosts. His New Ghosts. He set us free.

Darius scoffed meanly.

-- You don't look free to me. You look like he sent you here to do his dirty work.

-- General Nercur was right. You misunderstand us, you always did. You have no idea what we would've done for you. How far we would've gone, without hesitation. You think us ordinary troops, who want money and luxury. We're a slave army. What does a slave army need? We have no families or homes, no attachments. We've been stripped bare of anything that might've made us people like you, long ago. We have nothing but each other and the honor of the Ghosts. This is our worth, and the only thing that matters to us. It's the greatest challenge that we desire. To win where anyone else would've lost. This is the meaning of glory! I already gave my life for you once. By serving Nercur, I ensured my brothers would live. As a reward, he will unleash us against the greatest foes.

-- This is justifications! spat Darius. When you learned that I was alive, you should have returned to me! Your oath was to me!

-- No, my lord. Our oath was and remains to the Emperor of Wulric. We followed you until you lost that position. When we accepted to serve Nercur, we were unbound to you. We never betrayed.

-- Liar! I am the rightful Emperor of Wulric, and you know it!

Mafida immediately interrupted the outraged wolf, refusing to listen anymore.

-- Claims are politics, and the Ghosts don't do politics. We serve the emperor in power, and that's obviously not you. You should be proud, sir. You made us. You wanted to shape us into perfect weapons. In service we find meaning. In the heat of combat we achieve eternal splendor. That is what matters to us. I guess you succeeded. Weapons aren't picky about who wields them.

Darius staggered backward, shocked, when the New Ghosts drew their weapons as one, completely united in their spirit and dread purpose. Suddenly, Yuryam witnessed the faint glow in their eyes.

They looked forward to fighting such strong prey as Darius to the death.

This was nothing compared to how uniquely concerned Yuryam felt when the lynx leader turned to one soldier at his side and pointed directly to the rogue.

"Make sure the rat doesn't escape. Nercur wants his skin as well."

Yuryam gasped in horror, but at least, Darius emerged from his stupor. Finally, he fully recognized what was about to happen. What followed astonished the rat.

-- We can't win this, simply stated the black wolf. Run.

Darius, however, did not begin to flee. He drew his greatsword in a flamboyant motion and moved to attack Mafida. Was it out of anger? Was it to give his companions an opportunity to escape? There was no way to know for sure.

As soon as Darius entered battle, the unflinching bird knight bounded and landed gracefully at his side to cover his flank. They engaged the Ghosts outnumbered three-to-one. To Yuryam, it seemed that they fought like gods of warfare, but clashing against a superior force of the greatest military unit of all time was a doomed endeavor. The Ghosts faced their enemies with flawless unity and understanding of their advantages. Mafida himself toed the line, blocking Darius' wild attacks with his heavy axe, and maintaining a strong defense while other Ghosts swiftly improved their position by carefully surrounding their targets, giving each other more elbow room and making safe, opportunistic strikes at Darius and Aloca. Every moment that passed made the situation worse. Aloca suffered a cut to the thigh, Darius got completely overwhelmed when a tough stag managed to grab him from behind, and the circle of evil grinning legionaries continued to tighten around them.

Yuryam couldn't think of any way out of this. Suddenly, he realized that the ox to whom the lynx had given the order to kill the rat was onto him. Yuryam didn't bother taking his dagger out, but he found no mercy in the cold stare pinning him down. He knew he was about to die, and he hoped it would be quick. He closed his eyes when the ox raised a sharp falchion.

Yuryam smelled blood as the sound of metal digging through flesh and bone sickened him. He opened his eyes in time to see the ox fall limply to the side, with Aloca's terrible spear protruding out of the side of his head. The avian had thrown it, and not a second later he was back into the main event, headbutting the stag away from Darius while dodging a slash. As thankful as Yuryam was for the save, he had to admit that, in this moment, the red hawk's cold face troubled him.

The unfair fight was unexpectedly interrupted when Aloca roughly grabbed the giant wolf's shoulder and threw him backward. Darius fell on his butt in the street, confused, until he realized the bird had drawn his mighty bow and shot Mafida in the face. The lynx had reflexively managed to block the arrow with his gauntleted arm, but it'd been an extremely close call, and the Ghost leader yelled with the pain of having the heavy projectile pierce all the way through his armored limb. Aloca kept his position between the enemies and Darius, slowly backing away and frenetically aiming his bow at each nearby threat as they tried to move.

-- Stay back! Hurry up guys, I don't have many arrows left!

It was true: Aloca's quiver only contained one more arrow, aside from the one he'd already nocked. He'd probably lost most of them in the fight against the demon that he'd mentioned. Still, the avian's unique combat style and ability to fire precise, powerful shots at short range caught the Ghosts off guard. They avoided using shields, since their heavy armor and helmets usually sufficed to protect them from arrows fired from afar, but Aloca went ahead and aimed directly at their weakest spots. None of them appeared to be in a particular hurry to be the next to take one of Aloca's arrows to the face.

Darius appeared to grasp that this was their best and probably only chance at the same time Yuryam did. The rat's heart leapt with renewed hope as Darius bounced to his paws and aggressively gestured for the rat to join them. Aloca covered their retreat as they moved slowly away. The wolf made sure no one tried to get Aloca from behind, and Yuryam hid as safely as he could between his two magnificent companions. A few minutes later, he would remember that it was mostly their fault if he was into so much trouble once more, which would temper his enthusiasm. At this particular point in time, though, while he struggled to believe that this was working, and that they were successfully backing away from their pursuers with their lives, Aloca and Darius appeared to be his absolute best friends forever, and he loved them both more than anything.

Soon, they reached the circle of legionaries, and the more lightly equipped infantries didn't seem much more inclined than the Ghosts to serve as Aloca's target practice. They stared hatefully as they moved aside. Overtaken in a temporary bout of insanity brought by the high of their unexpected survival, Yuryam boldly yelled to the seething legionaries:

-- Yeah! That's right! Walk away, jerks!

Naturally, it was also easier to be courageous while he stood protected from both sides by two very, very epic warriors.

Mafida advanced, unafraid, but didn't try to follow the odd convoy too far. He held his wounded arm and broke the tail of the arrow.

-- This changes nothing, he warned. You have nowhere to go, and it won't take long for us to find you again. All these realms are ours. Next time, we'll have shields for your bird friend.

Darius responded nothing and the group kept moving. Soon, they took a turn in a different street. When they left their enemies' line of sight, the trio broke into a deranged sprint. With Yuryam's guidance, they escaped Kalteh and left the outskirts of the town through some rough hills, stumbling up and down the difficult terrain and breathing much dust as they did so. When Yuryam tripped, once, Aloca helped him up, but they kept going. They only allowed themselves to collapse and rest once they were safely nested in a small depression between some dry bushes, quite far from the city and the road, and they were sure nobody could figure out which way they'd run.

There, alone, they breathed at last. None of them could muster the energy to move anymore, so they quietly inventoried their rations and water. Only after they were done did someone dare break the heavy silence about the fact that their only plan was in absolute ruins.

Yuryam dragged himself into the dirt to a sitting position, unable to hold his own weight anymore. He felt so miserable. So cursed. He sniffed and talked, more to himself than anyone else:

-- I can't go back to Melnia, now. If the jackal is seriously looking for me, that's where he'll search first. I'm a dead rat.

He held back his tears. Even Aloca seemed tired. As if he was ready to give up. The avian faced Darius.

-- So, what now? This Mafida guy was right. If the New Ghosts are running around after us, we can't stay in the Sunlands. Ptarmep's resistance forces are far from strong enough to fight the full might of the legions. If we go there, we'll merely bring Nercur's wrath on their heads. They're not ready for that yet. They've just lost an important battle.

Darius didn't move. He kept staring at their bags of provisions, bundled together in the hot dust. Aloca appeared exasperated by the silence. He wanted to hear something, anything to encourage him, or confirm that their hopes to remove Nercur were destroyed.

"What do you think?" he insisted.

No reaction.

"Answer me, wolf, damnit! What do we do?"

Darius barely moved, but mumbled some words.

"What?"

Yuryam also leaned forward to listen, but the wolf spoke more clearly.

-- I said that is not nearly enough. We need way more food and water if we are going to raise an army.

Darius raised his muzzle. He didn't appear to be joking or anything. Not a hint of dark humor. He looked to his two companions, one after the other. That was obviously not what the bird anticipated as a reaction, since his resolute yellow beak gaped.

-- The hell are you talking about? asked Yuryam, vaguely annoyed to be disturbed in his self-pitying.

The wolf glanced toward the rat, but then he actually responded toward Aloca.

-- You still desire to defeat the general, correct? You want us to honor our absurd deal and retake the throne to free the annexed realms, yes? In this case, the plan hasn't changed. We thought we could get help from the Ghosts, but it turns out that this isn't the case. We simply begin further from our objectives. We must start from the ground up. We need to raise troops but we have no money to pay them. We have little food and no way to secure supplies, no allies, and the most lethal killers in the world are hunting us, with unlimited resources at their disposal. It is bad, but it isn't the closest I have been to death. I must make Nercur suffer, and we still have the most important advantage when it comes to power.

The stubborn absence of despair in the wolf jolted Aloca out of his gloom like a bolt of thunder. The hawk began chuckling. He didn't much to switch back to his natural optimism.

-- What's that? Your mighty claim? he teased. Is that our sole advantage?

-- It is enough to scare Nercur into sending his Ghosts after an isolated, powerless half-dead wolf.

Aloca nodded, apparently unable to find any flaw in that crazy bastardized logic. If anything, the bird seemed fully juiced up within seconds, infected by Darius' severe lack of giving up. The resilience of those two freaks pissed Yuryam off. What was wrong with these guys? Didn't they know when it was time to lie down easily and let go? They were ruining his perfectly good moment of miserable wallowing!

-- You assholes! he exclaimed. Don't you get that we've lost? Whatever happened to hiding and living everyday in fear until we inevitably get caught and humiliatingly executed? This is what normal people do!

The warriors ignored him, so Yuryam decided to pout in retaliation.

-- Should I understand that you have an idea on how to proceed next, then? asked Aloca as he picked their bags up.

-- Yes, said Darius. You were right when you said that we can't stay in the Sunlands. In fact, we can't stay anywhere within the Wulrician sphere of influence, for the moment. We need time, and we need to recruit new allies to our cause. We need someone with audacity, who already hates Nercur, and feels safe enough to actively plot against the might of Wulric. We will seek refuge in the wild lands of Elahan.

-- Elahan? asked Aloca, puzzled. I've never even heard of that.

-- It's a small independent mountain kingdom located west and quite close to the Wulrician heartlands, grumpily explained Yuryam. Wulricians never bothered with it because it's not worth the hassle, and because their king helped Darius during his war against the drakes. Going there won't help, though. They're much too weak to challenge the legions.

-- It is a start, argued Darius. Having a king on our side with a real army and significant access to supplies will make it far easier to convince more hesitant potential allies.

-- I agree with Darius, said Aloca. This sounds like a great first step! Who knew that some people actually still liked you?

Darius looked to the side, uncomfortable.

-- Well, about that. Remember when I said that the king of Elahan hates Nercur? There is a solid chance that he might not completely welcome me either, at first.

Aloca frowned.

-- How much of a chance?

-- I absolutely guarantee it.

-- That's not a "chance"... What did you do to antagonize him?

-- I ignored him when he asked for help, shortly after the dragon war ended. I didn't think I would need him anymore.

Aloca sighed.

-- And now we pay for your shortsightedness. Still, you believe he'll see reason?

-- Maybe. I don't have any other ideas, and I am not going to give up. I tried to give up, before. I ended up stuck with you, bird. No more.

Aloca laughed out loud and handed one of the sacks of supplies to Darius. They started leaving. In this precise moment, Yuryam felt more alone and lost than ever before. What about him?

Aloca slowed down briefly. He spun halfway back.

-- Are you coming, Yuryam? I'm sure we could use your skills.

It became blindingly obvious to the rat that he had nowhere else to go, and that the safest place in the world for him, in this moment, was with these two.

With Emperor freaking Darius.

At least the bird could keep him in check. Yuryam picked up his things and caught up swiftly when he realized the fools weren't quite headed in the right direction. His sole thought as he dejectedly helped them figure out the correct way was that he was -- absolutely and without a doubt -- cursed forever.