Ethan kept his head down and his hood up as he made his way down the busy Dargas streets. Normally, he wouldn’t mind the extra attention, but right now he needed to hurry.

He didn’t have much time.

Midday traffic flowed against him along the urban path, brushing rumors and shoulders off his cloak as he went.

“Did you see the guards before?”

“What’s happening—”

“It’s the garrison, I heard the alarm—“

“I told you there was a fight!”

Ethan groaned as the gossip continued. If this was as bad as he thought, a fight was just the beginning, and the end could ruin him. He had to contain this. He snaked his way through the gossip until he was standing in front of a small linen shop. Like most other merchants in Dargas, the store sat beneath an apartment, with stairs set just beside the entrance and behind an unassuming wooden door. The old woman who owned the shop was more than happy to have a Councilor living nearby, and the Savior of Pilgrim’s Channel was an even more welcome guest. Reputation was everything here, and to the people, Ethan was a saint. Now to make sure it stays that way.

He unlocked the door, made his way up the stairs, and passed through the final door at the top. Ethan sighed. Even under the circumstances it was always good to be home.

Despite his status, his apartment was a pretty unassuming space. A false wall divided the bedroom from the larger living space. In the main room two bookshelves sat in the corners of the right wall, while a fireplace rested between them. On either side of the hearth two shields were mounted. The one on the left was large, slightly oval, and sat sideways on its post. Its front was covered with leather stained brown with a simplistic golden sun in the middle. The symbol of the Amarian tribe.

On the right was a much smaller, heavier shield. The edge was reinforced with metal, while a scorched boss sat bulging out the middle, surrounded by a snake eating its tail. The Warriors crest.

They were gifts from the day the armistice was signed. Symbols of the effort to maintain peace, but that’s all they were. Symbols. Trinkets of an idea, as if that was enough to prove it was real. The truth was conflict was the blood of Dargas and deception was its bones. Without secrets the city was nothing and no one had power.

Ethan’s gaze was drawn to his left, where a console table sat between two windows overlooking the busy streets below. On its top was a small chest centered amidst two small pots filled with dainty purple flowers. He glared at the chest. Maybe it’s time, he thought to himself. She’d be a useful distraction after all, and that’s all she’d need to get started. He paused then he shook his head. No… not yet, that’d upend everything, and fake or not the peace is still useful. He walked away from the chest.

Instead, he went over to the bookshelf closest to the door, pulled out a book, and flipped through the pages until he revealed a folded piece of scrap paper in the middle. The Amarians can wait. I need to see what I can salvage.

Stolen novel; please report.

Even without the prison, his project was far from over. There was power in this world and this was his first step to find it. He took the paper out and put the book back on the shelf. I need to finish here before—

The door opened. “Did you think you could hide from me here?”

Illias strode into the room with a callous frown on his face. He’d abandoned his maroon jacket, leaving only a well-fitting dark tunic to match his boots and pants. He kept his medallion tucked away while at the Hall, but he wore it brazened here. It was a simple chain that held that old and powerful mark. A bird’s skull in front of a dark sun surrounded by a snake eating its tail.

“No one’s hiding,” Ethan said, turning to face him. “I’m taking care of it now.”

“You’re taking care of your pet project, and I couldn’t care less about your pathetic tests of things you know nothing about.” He took a step closer. “I care about the only thing that should be on your mind. Where. Is. Amos.”

“That’s—” Illias brought his finger to Ethan’s lips.

“I will tell you where he is, and be grateful I’ve done your job for you. He’s at the garrison, arrested, after he slaughtered some guards. Understand that I went to great lengths to ensure he was taken alive, and now you will do as your told and order him transferred to military custody.”

Ethan pushed Illias’s hand away. “If he’s already captured you don’t need me. You can get a transfer ordered with ease.”

Illias snatched the paper out of Ethan’s hand. “I could,” he said, “but you need to be reminded of your priorities.” He held up the piece of paper. “The only reason Raz let this blasphemy continue, was because it did not interfere with you maintaining our agreement.” He pointed the paper at Ethan’s face. “But now it has."

“You were more than happy to make use of my blasphemy when it was convenient for Lund—”

“When it was useful,” Illias cut in. “And you’d be wise to note the difference.”

“I know it well and so does Raz. He saw my results. I’m close.”

“Raz is miles beyond anything you could begin to comprehend—”

“But he still doesn’t know, does he?” Ethan cut in. “He still can’t figure out Galahad’s secret, but he knows I’m close. That’s why he let me run my little pet project, and that’s why I’m making sure it’s not lost.”

“Perhaps I haven’t been clear,” Illias said as he stepped toward Ethan, backing him against the wall. “You can play games with Galahad, you can fake the hero for Amarians, but you answer to Raz. That’s the only reason you’re still here. Now, you will go out and bury Amos again or you will join him in the hole!”

They glared at each other.

“Fine,” Ethan said after a moment. “And what can I expect of you? Will you be watching over my shoulder now the whole time?”

Illias backed up a bit. “I have my own orders from Raz, and I will continue to carry them out.” He slipped his hands into his pockets.

My list, Ethan thought. I can’t let him leave with that.

“Besides,” Illias said. “No matter where I am I always have eyes on you.” He stalked back to the door.

Ethan grabbed his shoulder. “My list Illias,” he said. “I’ll need it. When this is done you know Raz will want me to continue.”

Illias looked down at his pocket then turned back toward Ethan.

“My list,” Ethan said again, as he let go of Illias and held out his hand.

“I suppose you have a point,” Illias said. “Raz has taken some interest in your work.” He pulled out the sheet of paper and held it up. “So I will do you a favor,” he ripped off the top, “and I will find these first three for you, and return them when you’ve made good progress.” He gave Ethan the rest of the sheet.

The last thing I need is him interfering. “This will be done before last call,” Ethan said. “You’ll only wind up handing that right back.”

Illias simply stared back. His gaze betraying nothing. “We’ll see.” With that he strode out the door again leaving Ethan alone in his apartment.