He lifted a tankard full of strong ale to his lips and took a heavy swig. After killing the masked assassin Arthur had stomped off to a local tavern with Els in tow. There were few places allowed to remain open this late but Arthur knew the few that were. Els had complained to him about the short walk from the bridge to the Scarlet Harlot, she tried to jump in front of him and block his path. He just pushed past her and kept waking.

I don't want to think about witches and assassins, I just want a drink thought Arthur.

The Scarlet Harlot was a long horse-shoe building with a courtyard full of tables. Arthur sat down at one and glared into his ale. Across from his was Els who took a single sip of the beer and spat it onto the floor. "How do you drink this stuff," said Els.

"You need to be in a terrible mood," said Arthur.

"Well if I stay with you any longer maybe I'll be able to stomach it," Els spat at Arthur, "Can we please talk about the assassin."

"What is there to speak of, I killed a man about to kill you and threw him into the river, it'll be a miracle of the High Prince doesn't hang me tomorrow," said Arthur before taking another deep drink.

"He was working for the witch, the same witch from Finepoint. She hunts us still," said Els.

"She can bring the same doom to Heartford if she likes," said Arthur.

"What has put you in this mood Arthur, all you've done is complain and drink," said Els.

"That brat had his big brother banish me from the Prince's guard," said Arthur.

"Pyp got rid of you?" Els raised her eyebrow.

"Yes, he must have whispered lies into the High Princes ear and convinced him I was better of gone," he could feel the alcohol making his head light. The courtyard was busier than Arthur expected it to be, all the usual types were out: the old drinkers who sat silently draining tankards, the mercenaries and merchant guards telling each other outrageous lies and the most noise, and the guards finishing their late patrols going for a drink before they collapse into their bunks. Els looked out of place among the unwashed patrons. Arthur resisted the urge to ask her any questions, if I get her started she won't stop.

"None of that matters Arthur, we have to find this witch and destroy her before more cities fall," said Els.

Arthur looked up to Els with a scowl, "I have just lost everything: my home, my livelihood and you say it doesn't matter." He spat on the ground to show his distaste.

"But Arthur can't you see this is so much bigger than any of us. Magic is real and we are the only ones who understand, my family didn't believe me and I doubt that the High Prince believed you," said Els.

"He didn't," said Arthur shaking his head.

"So we are the only ones who can stop her," said Els.

Arthur held his head up with his elbow on the table, he had finished his second mug and was waving for another.

"Can this talk of witches and magic be saved for someone else, I just want to drink," Arthur began to slur his words.

"I think you've drunk enough," said Els. Arthur grunted as the server brought him another mug of ale. As he drank he noticed a group of well dressed guards. They each wore deep purple doublets with brightly polished pot helmets on their heads, and the carried straight sabres with elaborate handguards on their hips.

Those aren't Heartford guardsmen thought Arthur as they pointed at his table.

"So the High Prince has sent for me," slurred Arthur as he got to his feet.

"Arthur no those men aren't here for you- " began Els.

"Well I won't go quietly," said Arthur ignoring Els.

"Lady Els, we're here to escort you home," said the lead swordsman.

"You'll escort me nowhere lacky," said Arthur holding up his large mug.

"Sit down drunk before you hurt yourself," said a different swordsman.

There are eight of them, loose formation, they should be stood closer together thought Arthur gripping his mug tighter.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

"I warned you," said the man drawing his sword.

"Arthur leave it. I'll come with you leave the drunk alone," said Els.

Her words fell on deaf ears as the man with the drawn sword stepped forward and levelled the tip at Arthur. They stood eyes locked neither made a move, until the leader of the group barked at the man.

"Finish this Vin, Lord Weimaer will have our heads if we take too long."

"This won't take long," said Vin with a wicked smile on his face. He shot forward stabbing his sword directly into Arthurs chest. Arthur sidestepped the point and smashed his mug into the mans face. In a single hit the man crumpled into a heap on the ground. Arthur leaned over his unconscious form and picked up the sword.

"Arthur don't hurt anyone, they are here for me," shouted Els who was now standing next to him.

"I won't hurt them, much," said Arthur stepping forward.

The remaining seven men rushed forward to attack Arthur. The tables blocked them from overwhelming him with numbers, Arthur charged forward sword held high. He parried a blow from the lead swordsman and brought the pommel of his sword down on his ornate helmet. The man fell onto a table with the helm covering his eyes. Arthur jumped onto a table to avoid an arcing sabre, he deflected several sword blows as he ran across table tops. He landed a flying kick onto a mans chin before spinning on his heels and fenced the sword out of another mans hand. He felt a strong arm snake around his neck and pulled tight around his throat. He struggled for breath as he slammed his elbow under his assailant's ribs. Another swordsman approached him sword tip aiming for his eye before the man behind him fell to the ground gasping for air. Arthur used both hands to deflect the sword thrust and held the blade as he kicked the man in the knee. A high-pitched scream ripped through the air as his knee folded backwards.

"Stop!" screamed Els from her perch on top of her table.

Arthur looked over at Els and wobbled on his feet, three men took advantage of his distraction and dived on him. Arthur had both of his arms pinned down as he tried to thrash loose. He watched as the leader brought his sword into both of his hands and stood over Arthur. Els jumped off her table and grabbed the man's arms, her lips were moving as if she was shouting at him but Arthur heard nothing, his eyes were getting heavy and he slipped into the blackness.

"What is taking so long, why won't you see."

A mountain sprung up from the black, Arthur saw familiar obsidian gates carved into the side of the mountain. Thousands of shadows marched into its white void.

"Here is where you should be," came an ethereal voice.

"Why?" Arthur screamed into nothingness.

He gasped as a freezing bucket of water was dumped onto his head.

"Wake up scum," a man shouted into his ear.

Arthur's eyes searched around the room. It was dark and poorly lit, a single torch illuminated his captor's face. He was a short fat man with pig eyes and a pockmarked face. A wooden baton smacked against his exposed stomach. Arthur grunted not giving his torturer the satisfaction of seeing him writhe in pain.

"That's enough Ibien."

A man stepped into the light, he was tall with narrow shoulders and greying auburn hair. He wore a half cape draped over a purple and silver doublet, his hands were decorated with large golden rings. His narrow clean-shaven jaw was pointed directly at Arthur. They locked eyes, and Arthur was impressed by the ferocity he saw in those pale green eyes.

"You're the man who my daughter begged me to spare. You don't look like much," said Lord Weimaer.

Arthur didn't speak, the look on Lord Weimaer face dissuaded him form making any retorts.

"She tells me you saved her from certain death in Finepoint, she has said quite a lot about Finepoint. Witches, magic, an army of possessed soldiers. It all seems hard to believe."

Lord Weimaer started to pace around the small cell. "I made some inquiries about you Arthur, a commoner who managed to become a member of the Prince's guard. The only member that wasn't a knight, I remember it caused quite a headache for Godwyn. And now you land in my lap". Weimaer stopped and looked back at him. "My man in the Prince's keep tells me you left the High Prince's service, you must have done something awfully wrong to be let go. So tell me, what was it?"

Arthur flexed his wrist, they were clamped tightly with manacles and chained to the wall. I'm not getting out of this one thought Arthur.

"It was on the way back from Finepoint, me and the High Prince's brother had a disagreement over how to deal with a camp of bandits. He wanted to wait and see, I favoured a more aggressive approach," said Arthur.

"And so when the young royal got back home he told his brother and had you expelled from the guard. A tragic story," said Weimaer.

He stroked his bare chin in thought. "I have a proposition for you Arthur, come work for me."

"And if I refuse," said Arthur.

Lord Weimaer gave Arthur a wry smile, "You are in no place to refuse my offer Arthur, and if you do you will rot in this cell for the rest of your short life."

"Then I accept my Lord."

He was taken from his cell and led to a small room in the estate's barracks.

"This is where you will be sleeping, I don't allow any loud noises or food in here, you'll clean your bedding yourself" said a sour faced woman who was the head maid of the servants quarters. "You'll be allowed to bathe early in the morning before any of the Weimaer's are awake, I'm told you're to report to Sir Luca tomorrow" she said as she turned and stomped out of his small dwelling.

The small bed was hard and lumpy with thin linen sheets, a soft down-filled pillow sat at its head. Most of the room was taken up by a large chest of drawers. Arthur pulled them open and found they were empty, I'll need to buy all new clothes, and armour and weapons he thought as he fell backward onto his bed.

From a member of the esteemed Princes guard to this, a lacky of Lord Weimaer. Just when I thought I was out from under Els' thumb now I get pulled right back in.

He rubbed his chest and felt the lines that had been burned into his flesh. The lines were neat and shallow, it shouldn't scar it is not deep enough thought Arthur. His mind drifted to his strange dreams, Arthur hadn't been much of a dreamer before Finepoint but now his thoughts raced every time his eyes closed.

Maybe Els is right about the scar, the witch and the assassin. Maybe we do need to do something about her Arthur shook his head, even if it is all true, it's out of my hands. Lord Weimaer will never believe her. He lay his head on the soft pillow and drifted off to a fitful sleep.