(Just Before Syra Attacked)

“The scent has led us to the Royal Palace, it would seem. Makes one wonder if the Prince had a hand in all of this.” Halduron gestured towards the stalwart pair of Spellbreakers guarding the front gates.

“Kael’Thas is a threat, but not for the reason you're thinking.” Syra casually remarked as she scanned the building in search of some sort of clue.

She hated to admit that someone else was better at tracking than her, but she supposed this glib tongued dandy had his uses.

“Indeed? The Prince is ineffectual, hardly a leader, I say. Perhaps it was Pathaleon, that slime. Your mother gave him a good thrashing at the council of the wise. Perhaps he is the one seeking revenge?” Halduron posited.

She noticed the Ranger Commander playing with a piece of rubble whilst he squatted next to her in the shadow of a building. Perhaps this was a nervous tick she could exploit later.

“Pathaleon is transparent in his schemes.” Syra said, turning to stare pointedly at Halduron.

“My Lady, why, I never claimed to be anything that I wasn't! You are looking at Silvermoon's premier tracker, and head of special forces! I'm quite the valuable man, you know, and my time could be spent clearing out Undead. Yet here I am, squatting in the dark with a married woman. Oh what will the bards think!?” Halduron dramatically covered his eyes with the back of his hand.

Syra scowled and looked away from him. The bards were quite clear on what kind of man Halduron was. Brightwing had the reputation of a renowned gigolo. One who seduced both males and females.

Whilst she looked away, she could practically feel a smirk directed her way whilst he peeked through the gap in his fingers.

Her hand twitched, itching for violence.

“Besides, with that murderous attitude, you must be a beast in the sheets! If there's an opportunity, you two should consider letting me join in sometime. I'm quite well known for my skills.” Halduron whispered raunchily.

Without any hesitation, Syra punched Halduron in the gut, only to see him wink at her.

“Don't hate the player luv, hate the game!” Halduron chuckled and winced as Syra stomped on his foot, then elbowed his collarbone.

Syra very seriously considered giving Halduron a massive beating at that moment, that or a violent demise. Not only due to his open invitation, but mainly because he must think her a fool. As if she didn't know how two-faced the Elves were.

But she needed him, and for all intents and purposes, he was in her husband's debt. Despite how suspicious this character was, she didn't want to go breaking her Varrus's toys. That was simply improper etiquette.

Ultimately, she decided to delay this debaucherous debonair’s punishment for later.

“Hmm, so now that you know that the mana signature led us here, I wish you good luck. Gaining entry to the Royal Palace-even for the Commander of the Farstriders-is an overly formal affair. By the time you are cleared entry, I am afraid that the scent I have been tracking will be lost. It was faint as it is, why, it might disappear in a matter of minutes.” Halduron held his hands out, as if nothing could be done, and said in a whisper.

“Wipe that self satisfied smirk off your face.” Syra said without turning her head around.

By the Light, how she hated talking. Much more, when it came to conversing with braggarts and tricksters. If only she could be resting at home, tightly within Varrus’s embrace. Now that was a thought.

“Even so m’lady, you must come to a decision, and fast.” Halduron urged.

Syra rolled her eyes, then boldly strode out into the light, approaching the two guards.

Halduron whistled at Syra as she drew her giant buster sword, and rested it on her shoulder like it weighed nothing.

“State your business!”

“Halt!”

“Move.” Syra commanded.

The guards shared a look with one another, then raised their weapons.

“We recognize you, Lady Vandercross, but the hour is late. We do not want any trouble.” One guard said, and gestured towards her weapon.

“Please wait for a moment. I can call Pathaleon the Calculator, or Knight-Lord Dranarus if you wish entry.” The other guard held up a hand and said partly as a request, and partly as a plea.

“Halduron, explain.” Syra said over her shoulder.

Reluctantly slinking out of the shadows, Halduron looked glum as the two guards similarly recognized him.

“I see the value of anonymity is lost upon you.” Halduron pitilessly chuckled as he stepped into the light.

“You!” One of the guards angrily shouted as he pointed his blade at Halduron’s neck.

“See, this is why I wished to remain in the shadows.” Halduron tsked as he gently moved the tip of the sword away with his index finger.

“You cheating, two time-”

Syra bopped the guard on the chin with a Light empowered fist so fast, he didn't know what hit him.

She then placed her buster sword on the other guard's shoulder, next to her neck.

“Explain.” Syra commanded.

“...that was a boring conversation anyway. Ahem, official Convocation duties. I'm investigating a trace on behalf of Highlord Vandercross, and demand entry.” Halduron tiredly listed off as if he had done so a thousand times.

“D-do you have a warrant?” The guard stuttered.

“And you call yourself a Royal Guard? Where's your bravery, your deridoo!?” Halduron said, pointing his finger into the guard's armored side, causing her to shiver each time he did so. “Ah, bullocks, I seem to have chipped a nail.” Halduron muttered angrily.

Stolen novel; please report.

The guard side eyed the giant buster sword, and remained silent, as if Halduron was a dumbass.

“Right, the sword. Well, anyway, there's your warrant right there. So unlock the gate for us, would you?” Halduron leaned over, and winked slipped a piece of paper in her waistband. “Call me.” He huskily whispered.

“Well…it breaks protocol. But it's not like anything has been normal around here lately…oh very well, go on in!” The female guard fretted. She then muttered a spell, and some wards protecting the outer wall dropped around the gate.

“Just make sure to be quick about it.” The guard said nervously.

“Lead the way.” Syra brusquely shoved Halduron in the back, and into the palace grounds.

“Oi!” Halduron complained.

The Farstrider Commander took a step forward, then dusted himself off.

“As if I would give her the contact information to my scrying orb. Hah!” Halduron said, shaking his head.

“Track now, or do so from your collar.” Syra threatened as she materialized the chain of mixed Light/Void energy.

“Oh do behave.” Halduron said with a wink.

Syra swooshed her sword forward, cutting off a section of his long, blonde hair. Her intention was to make his face bleed, yet he had dodged her.

Curious.

“Cute. Real cute, Lady Vandercross. I may be willing to put up with a lot, but the face is off limits. Got that?!” Halduron said with heat in his voice.

Syra smiled back brilliantly, maintaining her silence.

“Bloody creepy is what it is.” Halduron muttered to himself.

“You want the perpetrator, fine, follow me.” Halduron rolled his eyes, then began to walk down empty corridor after empty corridor.

Twice he went to the side, and entered a magical camouflage so as not to be caught by a patrol.

Eventually, he led Syra to the Royal Magisters Spire, where he signaled them to halt.

“What is the issue?” Syra questioned.

“There are many auras concentrated In this location. I cannot lead you to any one room, as the density of mana is too extreme. This is as far as I can take you. Good luck, Lady Vandercross!” Halduron said, then turned around to leave, only to have his collar gripped.

“My, what smooth hands you have! I must know what lotion you use!”

“Track.” Syra commanded.

“I already told you, I cannot-”

“Track.” Syra said, cuffing Halduron around the wrist with Light energy.

“Oh dear, how exciting.” Halduron said in faux cheer as he was pushed forward once more.

As Halduron seemed to meander around the tower, Syra looked into every room they passed by, and saw mages moaning in pain.

“Poor bastards are sick from a ritual spell gone wrong.” Halduron supplied.

“Less talking, more finding.” Syra cut him off, and tightened the chain of Light on his arm.

“I feel something in this direction. But I can't be certain, there's something cutting off all the circulation to my arm, my mana sense is all thrown out of order.” Halduron complained, seemingly talking to himself as he pressed forward.

Syra rolled her eyes at Brightwing's theatrics, internally promising a beat down as soon as Varrus gave the go ahead.

“Ah, that's much better. Now where were we? Oh yes. It seems a powerful Undead is on the other side of this door. An associate of the late Drathir Dar'Khan no doubt. Who else would be perusing the Grand Magister's room at this hour?” Halduron questioned as if he was a teacher asking a grade schooler a question.

Syra released her hold on Halduron, and went to open the door, only to be rebuffed by a magical ward.

Huffing, she gripped her buster sword, and prepared to slash it open.

“That won't work, you know. Successive Grand Magisters over the generations have all laid their defenses upon this room. Even the Prince would struggle to break in.” Halduron chided, and found the split in his nails to be more interesting than what Syra was getting herself into.

Syra imbued her weapon with Light energy, and cleaved downward. The ward shuddered, yet remained in place.

“Told you~. Look, if you want to gain entry, we could simply wait-”

Syra tuned out Halduron’s chatter, and focused on the barrier in front of her. She had considered slashing in the wall next to the door, but quickly came to the conclusion that not only did the barrier protect the door, but it protected the entire structure as well.

As an inscription hobbyist, she noticed runework carved upon the floor, and on the inside of the portal leading to the room.

Recognizing several of them, Syra muttered a quick spell, and coated her sword with temporary inscriptions that would act to counter the ones on the floor.

Pumping energy into her sword once more, Syra laughed beautifully as her blade passed through the door-and the entire tower-like a knife cutting into butter.

As the tower fell, her eyes caught on to a shade attempting to flee the scene.

‘This is it!’ Syra thought excitedly to herself, and gave chase.

No one messed up her Varrus exclusive alone time.

No one.

Syra smiled as she looked forward to adding another flower to her collection.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kael blearily opened his eyes open as a layer of dust fell into his nose, causing him to sneeze.

Closing his eyes, and rubbing his nose, Kael attempted to fall back asleep, only for a subtle rumble to shake his room.

Trying to roll over, and get ahold of his water glass, Kael felt something warm in his bed, where there shouldn't be anything.

That subtle, distant rumble, turned into an avalanche of noise, and caused Kael's searching hand to fumble into something massive, soft, and oddly familiar.

Ah! It was the pillow he had grown up with. Of course, nothing was as soft as this childhood memory!

Kael wrapped an arm around the pillow, and rubbed his face into it like a dog rubbing itself on the carpet after a bath.

Oh how he had missed the smell of home! It was a little softer, and squishier than he remembered, but it still held up after all these years.

It was whilst Kael was reminiscing, that he heard a large boom in the distance.

“Okay, just what is going on. Dranarus! Dranarus, get in here!” Kael shouted across the room at the door outside.

Bursting into the Prince's room, dim light spilled in from the hallway, and the Knight-Lord's form cast a long shadow within the room. Yet the scene within was laid bare for him in graphic detail.

“Dranarus, I demand to know what is going on!” Kael said, rubbing his eyes against the soft pillow he had gotten ahold of, then wiped some of his saliva off on it.

“Well that seems rather self explanatory, my Prince.” Dranarus said with a stunned expression.

“Now if you’ll excuse me-”

“No it is not. You are not dismissed. Explain the situation to me!” Kael said hotly.

“Must I?” Dranarus said in a weak voice.

“I am your Prince, I command you!”

Dranarus looked at Kael morosely, and opened his mouth with a dejected look, when a voice interrupted him, much to his seeming relief.

“Hm mm? Why Goldilocks, don’t stop there, we’re just getting started.” Jan'alai said huskily from Kael’s side.

Dranarus had taken that moment to flee from the scene, and as he stepped out of the way, the light from the hallway freely spilled into the room.

Blinking his eyes, Kael caught sight of a semi-nude Jan'alai currently being fondled by his hands.

“Meep!” Kael muttered in shock.

Jan'alai’s feral grin was the last thing he saw as the door clicked shut, and the dark of night once more shrouded his chambers.