Denval and Kosram walked down the street. Denval was in the front, using his size and bulk to easily intimidate the crowd to go around them. Kosram sniffed the air, trying to keep the trail but it was difficult in a city like this. All of the smells - the refuse, the unwashed bodies, the food, and even the animals - painted this chaotic tapestry that his nose could barely comprehend.

Kosram froze. He took a deep breath before sighing - he’d lost the trail.

He tapped Denval on the shoulder. The larger man turned around and nodded before heading towards a nearby alleyway. Kosram followed closely behind him. The two hid in the shadows, waiting and watching for prying eyes before speaking.

“Do we have any other options?” Denval asked.

Kosram shrugged. “You got any bloodhound fur? Or know someplace we can buy some? If we can find some, I can use it as a material component to cast a “Locate Creature” spell. It’s a safer option rather than asking around and throwing a bit of coin.”

“Hmmm.” Denval stroked his beard. “I still can’t get used to you casting so much. It feels odd.”

“I’ve always had Potential, Den. Meeting Graug just changed everything.”

"Yes, he certainly did. Never seen anyone beat you before him. That Orc beat you bloody in front of the squad as a show of discipline. He didn't like you at all during the Dulvraas mission." Denval shook his head. “I still can’t believe you convinced an Eldritch Knight to train you - a fucking spearman from the Army.”

“Right?”

They shared a few chuckles.

“But Kos,” Denval began. He paused for a moment before bulling onward. “I trust you and all but, I don't like lying to my family. And you, showing up on my doorstep, bearing the weapons and badge of an Eldritch Knight really put me in a tough spot. I've never lied to Larisa before. And, I've been lying to her for six months now. It doesn't...feel good.”

“Aye, I'm sorry, Den.” Kosram's hand rose, gripping the emerald pendant at his neck. “It's just...I just needed to get away from being ‘me’ for a while. You didn’t know me after you left the army but. Well, I’m not going to say more than that.”

Denval just simply nodded. 

“I’m sorry, I owe you more than that, Den-”

“No apologies. You saved my life back then. If not for you, my family would’ve lost me. I’m glad my kids get to grow up knowing their father. All I can do is pray that the Crownsguard, the Order, or the Guild doesn't catch you. There's nothing but the noose at the end of that future, my friend.”

"Don't worry, you lumbering oaf. Once we find the girl and I help her out, I promise to vanish like early morning mist.  If my suspicions are correct, she's an orphan. Maybe you and Larisa can take her in?" 

"Help her out?" Denval stared at Kosram, one eyebrow raised. "Kos, that girl is now your responsibility. You told me that you lied to the Crownsguard but also gave them your real name right?" 

"Aye." 

"Then, that girl is now an accessory to your crime. If she get's caught, I imagine that she'll be jailed or executed. Impersonating an Eldritch Knight is a serious crime."

Kosram froze. He hadn't considered that. But, Denval could always see the whole battlefield. If Thrace was possibly a fugitive, she certainly was one now. 

"What do I do then?" Kosram asked. "Take her with me? She'll be in danger just by being with me. There are-"  He cut himself off. No, Denval's right. Don't get anyone else involved. You've already got some poor girl all mucked up in your mess. Don't involve him. 

Denval just shook his head. "Kos, the moment you involved yourself in that girl's business, you sealed her fate." He laid a hand on Kosram's shoulder. "But I know you will do the right thing. That's why Larisa will always forgive you. You've got a good heart." 

No, I have a selfish one. 

Kosram opened his mouth to speak further but the sounds of screams and shouts reached his ears. That was back on the street, south of their location. The two locked eyes. No words needed to be shared. They'd trained together and knew how the other operated. That much hadn't changed in the past three years. 

They parted ways. Denval re-entered the street, shoving his way through. Kosram began to climb the nearby wall. From the roof, he could get a better vantage point.

It was an easy climb. Even with the thin layer of grime and slime that coated the stone, there were plenty of handholds and protrusions that allowed him to scale up at a fast pace. Once his hand gripped the slate tile edge of the roof, he hauled himself up and crouched down. His eyes looked to the south and he immediately saw the familiar form of Thrace.

She stood alone, casting magic and fending off three attackers. Kosram sighed. What was she doing? Those men weren’t even Crownsguard!

The girl, Thrace, was desperately holding her own. She was manipulating an ever-shifting orb of water, almost as large as herself. Her left hand, which formed a fist, gestured and directed the water like a conductor of an opera. The water acted as a shield, flowing through the air to form dome-shaped barriers against strikes and slashes. Her mouth muttered an incantation, non-stop save for taking quick breaths of air. Her right hand, forming a claw, crackled with lightning. 

Kosram couldn’t help but let out a low whistle.

She was maintaining two cantrips. The first, “Shape Water” was being maintained through holding the somatic form. “Shocking Grasp” however was being continuously cast by holding its own somatic form and by her continuously uttering the incantation. You would be hardpressed to find a wizard that could do that. Most Guild Wizards were second tier and weak in comparison. 

Usually, the water wouldn’t be enough but, her right hand helped create a formidable defense. When the water countered a blow, she ensured that her lightning claw touched the water. The lightning would course through it, sparking and throwing off a blue light.

One of the Dura was committed to his swing. The sword entered the water shield and the electricity coursed down the metal blade to the wielder. The Dura yelped! He reeled backward, letting go of his sword, body crackling with lightning. His hair stood on end.

Thrace never stopped moving. She directed the water to her left to intercept another sword slash. The water formed into a solid wall that stretched all the way to the ground. This time, she didn’t empower the water with lightning. As the blade entered the water, she opened her fist briefly before closing it once more.

The water froze. The Dura found his sword’s momentum gone as the blade was stuck in what looked to be about six fingers of ice.

Seeing an opportunity, Thrace dashed around her ice barrier. Her right hand shot forward, aiming for the Dura. The Dura cursed, letting go of his stuck longsword before throwing himself backward and just out of Thrace’s reach.

“Well, we found her,” Kosram muttered.

He scanned the street, noting the positions of her attackers and searching for any Crownsguard. No Crownsguard, good. But, there were three more men, two humans and one dura, dressed like Thrace’s attackers. These other three were allowing for bystanders to run past them. One even took a moment to assist an elderly woman until another, possibly a son or grandson ran forward to take over for the Dura. One of the humans had drawn a book from his satchel and was hurriedly flipping through the pages. A Wizard. 

Wait, there was another. A man, human, stood behind the line of attacking bounty hunters. His blade was out but it seemed as if the human was waiting for an opening. Kosram froze when he realized the man was dressed in a green and bronze tabard. Could it be? 

He opened his right hand as wide as he could and touched the tips of his fingers together. Then, using his left index finger, he pushed the right index finger until it formed a circle with his right thumb. 

He muttered an incantation under his breath. The man was instantly lit up in a bonfire of rainbow color. Kosram dropped the somatic form; well, that confirmed it - that was an Eldrtich Knight. 

Kosram began to feel something burn within him - anger intertwined with vengeance. 

Six highly-skilled, well-coordinated hunters by their movements led by an Eldrtich Knight. Difficult, but manageable. Luckily, the clearly magical conflict was making all bystanders flee for safety. With the amount of magic being flung around today, Kosram half-expected Guild Inquisitors to start sweeping through the city for the perpetrators.

He reached into one of his pouches and pulled out a bit of copper wire. Cupping his hands together, he raised it to his mouth and muttered the incantation. As the copper wire turned to ash within his hands, he pointed downwards at Denval, who was wading his way through the flood of folk fleeing.

Kosram felt the magic, like a helmet, settle over his head. Denval shook his head a bit. Good, the magic had taken then.

“The girl is fending off three assailants right now,” Kosram whispered. The magic would allow for Denval, despite the distance, to hear his voice right in his ear. “The remaining three are trying to find a good angle for a ranged attack of some sort or attempting to clear out the crowds. Try not to kill them if you can manage it. I’ll try to put the remainder to sleep then we must converge on that Eldritch Knight...You can reply to this message.”

After a moment, Denval replied back.“This is strange...but I hear ya. I’ll keep casualties to a minimum.”

Denval began to charge forward. Each thud of his feet resounded throughout the street, loud enough that Kosram could hear it from his perch. The huge man moved to engage the Wizard.

The Wizard, whose eyes were glued to the open spell tome in his hands, looked up just in time to see Denval’s fist collide with his face. It was a solid blow. The Wizard reeled from the blow, blood flying from his nose and the tome slipping from his fingers. Once the Wizard was prone on the ground, Denval stood over him and punched him twice in succession. A bit of the stone street cracked from the impact of both blows.

The Wizard lay on the ground, not moving. Unconscious or dead, the enemy no longer had magic.

The last remaining human and one of the Dura, both who had been clearing the crowds, noticed their compatriot had been taken out. Both drew steel and charged to engage Denval. The man just grinned, drawing his mace for the first time, and moved to meet them.

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Thrace was holding off her own attackers but, Kosram narrowed his eyes, she wasn’t exerting that powerful magical aura like before. Her magic was running low. Kosram imagined she didn’t have many spells left if any at all. 

A thrown dagger streaked toward her, getting past her defenses and cutting her on her arm. Kosram felt his eyes darken. 

Time for him to get to work.

He rolled up both of sleeves and turned over his left forearm over. Arcane script shimmered with silvery light upon his bare skin. For a moment, they wavered and shifted about like flowing water but they focused under his scrutiny. As he read the text, the spells' knowledge slid back into his mind and understanding bloomed within him. Gods, he remembered now why he hated this spell.

Drawing a knife, he made a long gash in his right forearm, allowing the blood to flow freely. The arcane script flowed away from the knife, staying on the uncut portions of his arm. Rivulets began to flow down his arm, forming droplets at the tips of his fingers before dripping over the rooftop.

Kosram began to utter the arcane words. His left hand began to fold his fingers inward one by one, starting with his pinky and ending with his thumb. Once it had formed a fist, he opened his hand and repeated the order once more. 

As he did, the blood began to stop flowing downward and started flowing upward. The rivulets rose into the air before him, forming an orb of crimson before him just like the one Thrace had of water. It was a peculiar sight, one that would make a man question his own sanity. It was also very uncomfortable, feeling your blood be drawn from your own body. Like a vampire draining him dry. 

Once he had an orb about the size of his head, he held the spell’s somatic form. His voice rose, the incantation reaching its conclusion. He freed his index finger and pointed down at Thrace and her assailants and twisted his hand until the closed palm was facing the sky.

The assailants had smartened up. Two had fallen back to assault her with daggers from afar as one Dura, who had this red beard, circled around her trying to find an opening. Thrace had unfrozen her water and was now completely on the defensive. 

The orb of blood before him dissipated into a crimson mist. The mist, driven by a wind that did not exist, flew downwards toward the street. It began to ensnare Thrace and her assailants, obscuring their surroundings and enveloping them completely. 

Straining his hearing, Kosram could hear coughing, the clang of steel meeting stone, and the thud of bodies hitting the street. After a few moments, the crimson mist dissipated, leaving behind four bodies. None of them were moving. 

The Eldritch Knight was still standing. Strong magical wards were standard procedure. Eyes wide, he scanned his immediate surroundings before turning his attention to the rooftops. 

Denval was cleaning up things on his end. He swung his mace downwards, smashing through the sword-block and slamming it into the remaining assailant's shoulder. The Dura cried out, dropping his broken sword. His cry was cut off as Denval soundly punched him in the face. The Dura joined his other compatriots on the street, unconscious, bloody, and bruised. 

He reached into a pouch, pulling out a piece of cloth and used it as a tourniquet at the middle of his upper arm. Bandaging would have to wait for later. It was time for Kosram to join the fray.

He leaped down to a lower rooftop, rolling when his feet hit the tiles. He came out of the roll into a slide that angled him down towards the edge of the roof. Sliding off of it deposited him atop the canvas roof of a stall. The fabric strained with his weight but managed to hold. 

Kosram flipped himself forward, landing on his feet with both of his blades drawn before trotting towards the Eldritch Knight.

The Knight had noticed his descent but made no move to engage. Instead, a savage grin decorated his face as the Knight fell into a battle stance, the blade wielded with both hands and the sword pointed skyward. 

"Kosram Paltos, I assume," the Eldritch Knight said. "You are a very hard man to find." 

"Not really," replied Kosram. "You lot are just slow. I have to drop my name and impersonate one of you to get your attention." He spun his short sword in his hand. "It's pathetic really." 

The Knight sneered at that. "No matter. I am here now. Tonight you will die and I will have avenged my fallen brothers and sisters.  Your blades will make a fine addition to my collection." 

At this point, Denval had caught up and was flanking the Knight.  Eye's narrowed, the Knight turned to Denval. 

"Leave now, Citizen. If you do so, I promise that you and everyone you care about will not meet Death this very night." 

Denval looked towards Kosram. 

Kosram sighed. "Sorry, old friend. My advice, don't trust him. He's seen you with me. No matter what, you and I are bound." 

Denval shook his head. "By Iron and Fire." The huge man began to walk towards the Knight. 

The Knight fell back into a defensive stance. "So be it. After tonight, all will know that Sir Verdas has slain the Knight's Bane! And, with your death, the stain upon the Order's honor will be wiped away." The Knight suddenly spun around, pointing a finger at Kosram and shouting an arcane word. 

Purple lightning crackled at the fingertip before streaking towards Kosram in a flash. He was ready for such a tactic. Kosram yelped as he rolled out of the way. The stall behind him exploded, wooden shrapnel and bits of fruit flying in all directions. The Ironwood sword had fallen from his grip, skidding forward towards Verdas. 

Kosram got back to his feet just as he heard Denval roar. His friend unleashed a flurry of strikes upon the Knight. The Knight dodged and ducked. He was like flowing water, untouchable and ever-moving. 

When the mace finally did impact, an invisible barrier flashed with yellow light. The Knight grunted in pain but didn't seem nearly as wounded as he should've been. A "Blade Ward". 

With his free hand, Kosram formed a claw with his index finger, middle finger, and thumb. As he charged forward to aid his friend, he used the hand to scoop up a bit of water from a nearby muddy puddle. The water began elongate in shape, forming a dagger before freezing in his hand. 

He flung it at the Verdas. The throw shot forward with more force than should've been possible, honing in on the Knight. The Knight didn't even turn to acknowledge the blow. Just as it was about to impact into a sliver-sized opening in the armor at the neck, a shimmering shield of yellow energy bloomed into view. The knife slammed against it, exploding into a myriad of ice shards that shot upward, downward, and to the left and right. None hit the Knight. 

Kosram's foot somehow collided with his ironwood sword, making it skid forward until it stopped to lay at the Eldritch Knight's feet. The Knight glanced downward before shooting a bemused smirk at Kosram. 

"How clumsy you are, Kosram," he sneered.

Denval roared, swinging his mace in a downward strike. The Knight dropped his own blade. His right hand caught Denval's wrist and his left hand, forming a fist, slammed into the larger man's chin. As Denval's face reeled back, the Knight spun around while maintaining his grip on his opponent's wrist. Denval was whipped around in a circle before being flung away into a nearby stall. 

The stall collapsed from the impact, the canvas roof fluttering down to cover Denval's still form. Verdas let out a loud guffaw. 

Kosram ceased his approach, reaching his free hand into one of his component pouches. His fingers wrapped around the ball of bat guano and sulfur powder that he knew was in there. 

C'mon, you bastard, he thought grimly, pick up the sword. I know you want to. 

Verdas turned to Kosram, gesturing with a "come-hither" motion. "What? Where was that bravado from earlier? By the Gods, did you lose all courage now that the battlefield is equal? My, my." He shook his head. "One wonders how you beat all of my compatriots." 

Kosram sheathed his short sword, using the now free hand's fingers to trace imaginary circles in the air. 

"Oh we can't have that." The Knight bent down, reaching for the sword. "You really shouldn't rely upon magic so heavily. No matter what, the speed of a blade will always triumph. And, it will be poetic to slay you with your own blade." 

The Knight's hand wrapped around the hilt. He gasped as the air was filled with a sound akin to glass shattering. There were several flashes of yellow light. Verdas dropped the sword like it was it was a disobedient dog that had bit him, reeling backward. But, his motions were now sluggish in comparison to before.

The Ironwood sword had done its work. The Ironsword's magic eating properties also affected magical items worn and in physical touch with the wielder. And, an Eldritch Knight's armor, weaponry, and gear were all heavily enchanted to give them an edge. Physical enhancements, wards, and other spells were engraved. Kosram had found that most were so accustomed to the boosts that they felt sluggish without them. 

More importantly, the Knight was now defenseless to arcane assault. 

Kosram let out a savage grin as he began to chant the incantation. He pulled his hand from the component pouch, turning the fist so the palm faced the sky. The Knight turned to run. When the final word was uttered, Kosram opened his fist. The bat guano and sulfur turned to ash, fading into the air. 

 A streak of light shot from his open palm, soaring through the air before slamming into the Knight's back. The air began to shimmer around Verdas. A single bead of sweat ran down the man's forehead before flame blossomed from the point of impact, expanding outwards. It grew into a massive inferno, its heat so great that Kosram felt his body buffeted by superheated winds. 

The Knight was screaming, his form a shadow in the inferno as he flailed about. After a few moments, the shadow fell to the ground followed by the thud and clang of metal. The inferno faded instantly, leaving behind scorched earth and hot air.

Where the Knight stood now lay a charred corpse in a pool of half-melted metal slag. 

"Thank the Gods above and below." Kosram smiled. Victory always tasted sweet. 

 In the distance, he could hear the ringing of bells and shouts of, "Make way for the Guard!" 

Kosram fell to one knee, taking a moment to catch a breather when he felt his vision go blurry for a moment. Losing that much blood was never good, willing or otherwise. He slapped himself a few times before jogging over to Denval. The large man was slowly getting to his feet, shaking his head. 

"Den, you alright?" 

Denval grinned, his teeth a bit bloodstained. "Haven't been throttled so easily since I was a kid. Those Knights are tough." He nodded to the still form of the girl. "I'll carry her. You can barely stand." 

"No no." Kosramshook his head. "I'll take care of her. You need to get out of here. If you get caught, Larisa and the kidlets would never forgive me." 

Denval looked him up and down, worry plain on his face. "Can you manage? You look ready to pass out, Kos." 

"I will. What other choice do I have?" Kosram beckoned with his hands. "Please, I can't let others suffer for my actions." 

Denval hesitated for a moment before nodding. 

"Where will I find you?" he asked. 

"You won't. I will disappear. If we see each other again it won't be for a couple of years friend. Once this business is dealt with, I won't return to Tendorvasht for some time." 

Denval nodded. He patted Kosram on his shoulder. "May the Gods watch over you, my friend. May your blade stay sharp and your wits even sharper." 

"To you as well. Tell the kidlets and Larisa goodbye from me."

"I will." 

The duo parted ways. Denval sprinted down the street before ducking right and disappearing from sight. Kosram jogged over to the girl. Since she was passed out, the illusion had faded returning her to her real, tiefling form.

He lifted her gingerly into his arms before running back towards the alleyway. He'd spied a sewer grate near there. With luck, it would be unlocked. This was the Outerwalls. The sewers were the most secure method of travel if one did not want to be detected. 

Luckily enough, his hunch was correct. The sewer grate opened outward, revealing a descent down into darkness and a rusty iron ladder. Slinging the girl over his shoulder, Kosram gingerly made his way down the ladder a couple of spans before closing the sewer grate above him. What little light there was dimmed even more, though he didn't need it.

As an Uruk, he had darkvision. His surroundings, colored in various shades of grey, revealed an empty sewer below him. There were two stone walkways flanking the flowing waterway. Everything was coated in slime and - Kosram wrinkled his nose - don't even get him started on that stench. 

When he finally stepped down onto the sewer floor, Kosram checked his arm. It was still bleeding and he felt a bit woozy. Wait, his healing potion was in Thrace's possession. He gently put her down on the ground and, after a moment's hesitation, Kosram began to search through her belt's many pouches. 

In one of the left ones, Kosram found the healing potion. Uncorking it, he drank it down greedily. Instantly, Kosram felt his vision focus and his body grew strong again. Then, he heard voices above him.

"Search the area! See if there are any sewer grates! Find out if any have been disturbed! All that disturb the Queen's Peace must be dealt with!" 

No time to stop and take a breath.

Kosram looked at the wall off to his right, reading the script there. There were two arrows with two names written in Common, Duran, and Elvish. The left arrow said, "Innerwalls", and the right arrow said, "The Docks". The Crownsguard had surely already searched his rented room at the Silver Hammer. Well, he had rented three more rooms at three different inns in the Innerwalls. That would muddy the trail a bit he imagined.

But, the city was becoming too dangerous. The Crownsguard would put the city on high alert. The Order would send more knights. His eyes lingered on the girl in his arms. Denval's words rang in his mind. 

Kos, the moment you involved yourself in that girl's business, you sealed her fate. 

It was time to leave Tendorvasht. But, he was going to keep his promise to this girl. 

Kosram sprinted towards the right.