The item is believed to be an Architect Relic of unknown power.

A couple days had passed since Lyght and the others departed on their job to dispatch the bandits. Geren figured they would return sometime tomorrow if the group in question was someone small-time that was looking for some quick pilfering, but the more likely scenario was that they were part of a much larger crew. If that were the case—and he assumed that it was—it could be a week or longer before his people returned back to Davied.

He was on his way back into town himself after having decided to pick up a couple of smaller jobs in the immediate area just outside of Davied’s walls to get out of the office. Earlier in the day he had found a missing child—thankfully the boy was alive and well—and he was on his way back now from clearing out a small pack of hyenahounds that had been spotted roaming too close to the city. It felt good to get away from the desk and swing his sword some.

Night was fast approaching as he strolled along in the late evening towards the city gates. Two entrances were separated by roughly five feet of wall in between, the walkways through the gates wide enough for two caravans to pass through. A guard was always stationed on each side of either gate—four total.

The gates didn’t close at night, but the guards for the night shift were much more irritable, and Geren wanted to get into town before the shift change. One would think that the night shift would be more relaxing with the decrease in traffic. However, they wanted to drink and laze on the job since night was supposed to be easier, and were prone to displays of emotional outburst when people passing through interrupted their slacking.

As the gates came into view, Geren could see the familiar faces of the same guards he’d passed by a few hours earlier. Good—he made it in time. They did seem like their chipper mood was less than it had been previously, though, which struck Geren as particularly odd since they should be eager to change shifts soon. Approaching the pair stationed on the gate to the right, Geren gave a friendly wave as he walked up to them.

“Evening, boys. What’s got you all looking like Feros just passed by here recently? Seeing as I know he’s out of the city right now, I’m curious what’s actually going on.”

The guard on the right side of the gate, a shorter man with a stocky build and poor posture, spoke up first. “It wadn’t Feros, naw, but it may’s well have been. I didn’t know there could be a Feroxi cold as he is. Just had a right unpleasant one pass through earlier.”

An unpleasant Feroxi, huh? And it wasn’t Feros?

Given Feroxi were not regularly seen amongst the common people, their presence was always notable. Of the five races of Venterian civilization, they easily comprised the lowest percentage of the population, right below Gmaas. The disgusting events of fifteen years ago certainly contributed to that fact.

Hylennials held the middle position while Halvan trailed Humans as a distant second. Humans accounted for more of the population than the other four races combined at just over sixty percent. Those were the official numbers at least. Geren guessed that there were actually more Gmaas than Hylennials, but that the official numbers didn’t properly account for the various tribes that lived separate from the rest of civilization.

Geren was familiar with the handful of other Feroxi who lived in Davied. They were mostly older generations who kept to themselves along the west side of town. Cedren, a friend and fellow mercenary leader, occasionally visited Davied when jobs brought him up north from where his company, the Silverwings, operated in Jeshen in the northern Ismanna Desert. He was easily the least “unpleasant” Feroxi Geren had ever encountered, however, so the guard’s description didn’t fit him.

“An unpleasant Feroxi, huh?” He asked, echoing his own internal thoughts. “Care to describe him? I like being privy to mysterious new arrivals in my city.”

“Yeah, I’ll describe him for ya. In a real nice and simple manner.” The guard on the left spoke up this time as he wandered over to be nearer to Geren and his partner. He was tall, lanky, and straight-backed. Geren found the contrast in the physical traits of the two undeniably amusing, but resisted letting it show on his face.

“Black fur,” he continued, “and not blue with a little bit of black like Feros. I’m talkin’ black as the night sky when the stars ain’t visible behind the clouds. Tip o’ his ears down to ‘is toes black as can be.”

Geren stiffened. The casual charm usually present in his voice was absent when he spoke. “What kinds of questions did he ask you?”

Both of the guards were startled, either by the change in tone, the question itself, or both.

“Uh, how’d ya know he asked us any questions? We hadn’t said nothin’ about that.” The stocky one said.

“You should know by now”, began the lanky one, “that ‘ole Geren here’s way smarter than the two of us.” He gave his companion a friendly nudge with his elbow as he spoke. “Anyhow, he asked us if any ‘suspicious individuals’, ‘anyone we hadn’t seen visit Davied before’, or ‘any merchants selling peculiar wares’ had passed through in the past couple of weeks.”

“And? What did you tell him?”

The lanky guard shrugged. “Told ‘im that he was the only ‘suspicious individual’ we’d seen and that the only merchants were the usual. On our shift at the least. He didn’t seem to like that too much. Just growled and passed on through. Figure he’ll come back for the night boys and interrogate them too.”

Geren nodded. When he spoke, his voice was back to its normal tone. “Got it, thanks guys. I better get a move on before the shift change. Wouldn’t want those night slackers to walk in on you two doing their slacking for them.”

He gave the pair another friendly wave while they went back to their posts. Passing through the gate, he walked through the market district and headed east towards the edge of the residential district where he and Shaugh’s businesses sat on opposite sides of the plaza square.

Arriving at the square a short time later, he headed straight for the Dice & Sword rather than head home to the Last Stand mercenary hall. He passed by it on his way to Shaugh’s restaurant. A good night’s sleep could wait a bit.

Entering, he was happy to see that Shaugh was still present behind the bar. He was mixing some drinks for a pair of guards. Probably the guards that were about to go on duty for the gate’s night shift, judging by their attire. Geren took a seat at the far end of the bar near his usual table—a silent signal they used to indicate when they had something important to discuss.

After serving the pair their drinks, Shaugh walked over with a quizzical look on his face. “What’s up, Ger?”

There was a hint of concern in his voice. Geren had visited earlier that morning before heading out on the job to find the missing boy, so Shaugh may have been assuming the worst regarding how the job went.

“Skrell is in town. Guess those leaks about what’s going on at High Palace you’d heard about were true.”

Shaugh’s face lightened up a bit, an indicator that he likely had indeed been prepared for ill news regarding the child. Geren’s words sank in after a second and his face hardened again.

“Damn. When’d that happen?”

“Real recent it seems. Guards at the south gate said he ‘passed through earlier’ when I spoke to them on my way back into town. I got the vibe from them that he’d passed by not long before I did based on how they were acting.”

Shaugh let out a deep sigh. “Well, thanks for the heads up. Guess I’m closing early tonight. Just got those two jokers about to head to their shift half-drunk and a few others playing cards in the back I’ll send on their way. He’ll pay me a visit tomorrow for sure, though. Don’t suppose you’ve got any jobs that will send me out of town for a day?” There was a look of genuine hope in Shaugh’s eyes as he asked the mostly rhetorical question.

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Skrell, the black Feroxi that the guards at the gate had described, was one of the highest-ranking members of the High Army—the military force that operated directly under the control of High King Vangren. Known as The Onyx, he was one of the five Gemstone Generals, who were each responsible for a fifth of the army and reported directly to Vangren himself. If he was in town, then Vangren was very serious about casting a wide net to find any leads about who stole from him.

It would be likely that he’d visit Shaugh’s establishment, as restaurants and bars were often hotspots of gossip as proved true by the leaked rumors Shaugh had become privy to just a couple nights prior. Geren could also likely expect a visit to answer any questions about any strange job requests that had come through or if any word-of-mouth betrayed any possible leads.

Neither of them had anything to hide, of course, but they had both met Skrell in the past when he had been a member of the Daeinado military before rising up the ranks and becoming one of the High King’s favorite pets. He was just as unpleasant to deal with as the rumors would indicate. Even though they weren’t involved with the disappearance of Vangren’s relics, a visit from Skrell would still be something they’d rather not deal with. It was the kind of thing that may only last a few minutes, but could ruin someone’s entire day.

“No jobs outstanding right now, but maybe the Architects will bless us with a visit from someone in need early in the morning tomorrow.” Geren said with a light snort.

The doors for the entrance into the restaurant swung open. Geren and Shaugh looked nervously from their spots at the bar, expecting to see the devil they were speaking of walk through. Instead of the black Feroxi, it was a human man with slicked-back maroon hair. A sword was attached to the belt at his waist and a pair of axes were strapped across each other on the back of his leather jacket that was dyed a dark blue .

“Not quite the ‘someone in need’ I was imagining.” Shaugh mused.

“Evenin’, boys! Long time no see!” The man called with an air of familiarity as he ambled over to them.

“Ay Jedona. Surprised you’re still kicking. Figured you’d have pissed off the wrong person and ended up on the sharp end of their spear by now.” Shaugh said with a smirk.

“Oh I’ve pissed off plenty of the wrong people in my day,” Jedona began saying as he took a seat at the bar next to Geren, “but I’d like to see any of ‘em try and stick me.”

Shaugh passed Jedona a drink. The newcomer eyed Geren for a moment before greeting him. “Nice to see you too, Wolf Man.”

Geren sighed and looked to his left to catch a glimpse of a wry smile on the man’s face before he brought the drink up to his lips. “Good to see you. Sorry, we were just discussing the various difficulties that come along with owning a business and the different kinds of unwelcome guests that it invites.” he replied with a light wry grin of his own.

Jedona lowered his drink and frowned. “You sayin’ I’m one of these ‘unwelcome guests’, eh? Not a very kindly thing to say about one of your oldest friends.”

“I didn’t say anything of the sort. But if you’ve got any underlying guilt about anything that would make you feel unwelcome, I can give you directions to the church in town to confess.” Geren said slyly, taking a drink himself.

Jedona wasn’t wrong—he was one of Geren’s oldest friends. The two of them had served together as young up-and-comers in the Tetrano Mercenary Company during their teenage years in the Ismanna Desert. Even after having separately left the company, they occasionally ran into each other during their travels as they branched into solo work and had completed several jobs together when the situation called for it.

They did have differing core principles, however, and those differences had led to them naturally taking different paths in life since their younger days. Geren prided himself on leveraging his title as a mercenary to provide himself the opportunity to help those in need and make a living doing so. His priority was helping people—getting paid and making a career of it was a bonus.

On the other hand, Jedona was a true-blooded sellsword. He was more interested in the reward of the job than he was in actually assisting the contractee with whatever their need was. This also did not preclude him from working with those that had questionable morals and goals. There was a large market for mercs willing to take on contracts that were in the gray area of morality and legality, and there were few jobs that Jedona would turn down.

He had admitted to Geren during one of their travels together that his ambitions in life were undeniably vain: fame, respect, and money. A fancy title would also “be nice”, as he had put it. He held no shame for his ambitions and his way of living. It was simply how he was wired, and he understood the pros and cons of that. There was an irony in the fact that, through no ambition of his own, Geren had achieved all of Jedona’s goals—complete with the “fancy title”. Geren occasionally thought about his old friend and whether or not Jedona envied him. The dry smile and sarcastic remark from earlier certainly reinforced Geren’s ponderings on the matter.

Geren put his drink down. “In any case, what brings you to Davied? Last we’d caught up down near Jeshen, you mentioned that you were going to primarily start operating in the east. ‘As far away from the blasted desert as possible’, if memory serves.”

Jedona paused for a moment before responding. “I’m sure the two of you well-informed gentlemen have heard the rumors. ‘Ole High ‘n Mighty himself has been a bucket of sunshine lately. Call me crazy for wanting to head back west and distance myself from High City.”

Shaugh raised an eyebrow. “And what are the rumors? News doesn’t get around here real well, you know. Not from as far east as High City, at least. Takes a while.”

“You serious?” Jedona looked surprised. “Well, seems that His Mightiness had a couple of his favorite toys stolen. Any mercs dumb enough to still be contracting out their blades in the area are either being worked to the bone in trying to find the ones responsible, or they got a real close eye being kept on ‘em by the army just in case they were involved somehow.”

Geren and Shaugh shared a quick look while Jedona took another drink. If Skrell’s presence in Davied hadn’t already done so, Jedona’s words corroborated the info Shaugh had heard the other night.

“Explains why Skrell is in town I suppose.” Geren said, attempting to give off an air of understanding as though some mystery had just been solved. “Guards at the south gate earlier said he entered the city earlier this evening. Figured he was maybe just stopping for the night on his way to Wallesen, but… maybe not.”

“Ah hells,” Jedona shook his head as he laughed dryly, “that bastard is here? Ran into him a couple of times out east. Never met a Feroxi I didn’t want to gut, but that one’s a real piece of work.”

He downed the rest of his drink. “Well I’d love to stay and catch up since it’s been awhile, but I think I’ll hit the road. Maybe go visit Galnion. I’m sure those easy-going fishermen types got plenty of stuff they need someone else to kill for them. I’ll be sure to stop by again sometime when tall, dark, and mean isn’t around.” He flashed a wink at Shaugh. “I don’t mean you of course, big guy.”

Shaugh laughed and pocketed the payment Jedona had set down. “Get a move on then, I was just about to close up shop anyway. Safe travels!”

Jedona pointed at Shaugh with a half-scowl, half-smirk. “Don’t go wishing that on me. Safe travels are boring.” He placed a hand on Geren’s shoulders as he turned to walk away. “Be sure you don’t get complacent in your new life and lose your touch. You still owe me a one-on-one duel.”

“It’s been six years since we made that deal.” Geren replied, his gaze affixed to his glass.

“Yeah, and no battle I’ve had in all these years has gotten my blood pumping the same way our last fight did… I’ll break the Wolf one of these days.” He gave Geren’s shoulder a quick squeeze and left.

“Nice to see he hasn’t changed.” Shaugh said after the door was shut.

“Is it though?” Geren replied with a slight chuckle. “Seems to me that he just hasn’t grown up yet.”

Shaugh shrugged. “You’re not wrong. But hey, if you ever do give him that duel, you’d better make damn sure I know about it so I can be there to watch.”

“Just be sure you put your money on the guy who has the ‘cheater magic’ as Gargarel so eloquently described it the other day.” Geren flashed a smile as he tossed his payment for the drink to Shaugh.

It took a moment for Shaugh to compose himself to speak. “‘Cheater magic’? Oh man, that’s good. I like him, he seems fun. Had a couple people ask about his weird cards today and whether they were legit or a bad joke of some kind.”

“And what’d you tell them?”

Shaugh grinned. “Both.”

The two old friends laughed together until they said their official goodbyes. Geren headed out while Shaugh went to the back to let the last few people at the cards tables know he was closing up. The two guards who had been sitting further down the bar had left some time during Jedona’s visit, leaving their payments with their empty mugs.

Geren headed back across the square to the Last Stand headquarters. Making sure to flip the sign outside to “closed”, he walked inside, yawning as he shut the door behind him. The day’s work hadn’t been difficult, but he was still tired nonetheless.

“I was wondering when you would get here.” A voice said from the long table to his left.

The voice was familiar. He looked over to find someone unexpected sitting there, seemingly having been waiting for him.