Loaner maintains a steady, comfortable trot alongside the rail track heading in the direction of Deshawn City. The horse's bad temper aside, its a strong and swift mount. A good thing too, since I've made good time in my journey back to the city. The faster I return to Robeur Keep, the sooner I can report on Mills' betrayal of both House Robeur and his own family. Who knows what new plots Mills would cook up while left to his own devices. Nothing good, that's for sure.

I pull out a pack of cigarettes from my saddle bag and light up, taking a puff of the cheap tobacco. Man, it would be so great if I get the chance to really smack the living daylights out of Mills once we catch up to him. The catharsis from the act alone would be worth it. I know its an unlikely possibility, but a man is entitled to dream.

Yes, I'm still upset about almost being killed. No prizes for anyone that guessed correctly.

Lost in fantasy, I barely notice the walls of Deshawn City drawing closer. Loaner senses my distraction and lets out an annoyed snort, pulling me back into the moment. I give Loaner a friendly pat in an effort to show my appreciation for the animal's effort in bringing me back home, but Loaner merely shakes its head, letting loose a fine sprinkle of road dust that had settled into its mane.

"Fine, be that way." I sigh in defeat. You can't be friends with someone who just isn't interested, and that goes for horses as well. As long as Loaner gets be back to Robeur Keep and keeps its attitude to itself, neither of us would have a problem with each other.

We pass the gates of Deshawn City and begin moving through the main drag, the smell of unwashed bodies, horse shit and cooked food all around us. Today's a market day isn't it? Explains all the people hanging about. I spit out the expended cigarette hanging from my mouth and smoothly pull out another from the pack. I really shouldn't smoke like this, but surviving a near death experience is really the best excuse the treat myself a little.

The cigarette carton crinkles in my hand with a distressing lightness in weight. Damn, I'm running out already?

Pulling Loaner to a market stall by the side of the road, I toss the shopkeeper a silver piece and help myself to a fresh carton of cigarettes. The shopkeeper bows in thanks at this little bit of business, but as I bend down to collect my purchase, I notice something out of the corner of my eye. A unit of gendarme. Nothing unusual here, since the gendarme would be patrolling the area on horse.

Except these guys stopped their patrol and looped back around the moment I passed them.

I make a clicking noise with my tongue, signaling Loaner to get moving again. As Loaner starts trotting through the crowd at a leisurely pace, I take the opportunity to sneak a surreptitious glance backward.

"What the hell?" I curse under my breath. The gendarme is a distance away from me, but its clear as day to anyone with a lick of common sense.

I'm being tailed.

Alright, relax. It might be nothing. But it could also mean my worst fears had become true. Mills had managed to reach Deshawn City first and spun a yarn about me to House Robeur. Probably blaming me for betraying him and letting the goblins sack his camp. What am I going to say if House Robeur brings me in for questioning? There's no way of proving my version of events. And Mills has that bastard Mandor to serve as a witness for whatever bullshit tale that might be cooked up.

Biting my lips, I concentrate on the road and soon hit the intersection that leads to Robeur Keep. As I am about to make the turn, another group of gendarme drifts out from a side road. Both units of gendarme begin to fan out discreetly, but always keeping me in between them. I'm being boxed in.

Fuck.

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Loaner makes a distressed neigh, sensing the mounting danger as well. I pat the horse again to calm it, and this time Loaner does not bother with any sass. That animal has a finely tuned sense of self preservation, as evidenced by running off when confronted by the goblin army at the camp site.

"I understand." I murmur back to Loaner, "Time for a little test then."

Kicking hard at my mount's side, I send Loaner swerving hard away from the road to Robeur Keep and thundering through a gap in the enfilade before it completely closes around me. As Loaner speeds along the path heading to the rail yard, the gendarme stand about helplessly eating my dust, stunned by this sudden burst of speed.

Right before launching their own horses into a gallop, hot in pursuit.

"Damn it. What's going on?" I demand angrily, but Loaner has no answers for me.

There're now two units of mounted gendarme pursuing me at full tilt, right after I saw through their clumsy attempt at trapping me. No one uses this level of force to invite someone over for a bit of questioning. It would not only be complete overkill, but would also likely provoke an over reaction, especially if the target was able to fight back. I had no idea what the gendarme intended to do with me, though the smart money isn't on anything good. As if confirming my suspicions, I hear the distinct hiss of weapons being drawn coming from the gendarme behind me.

Loaner confidently increases its pace, the distance between us and our pursuers rapidly increasing. A chill nevertheless runs down my spine as the enormity of how screwed I am sinks in. Even if I escape these two units of gendarme, Deshawn City has plenty more, lurking at every possible corner. Running back to Robeur Keep is possible, but if the gendarme is already out for my blood, my fellow knights would most likely just surrender me to the law.

I bite my lip, cursing the lack of good options. Blundering about blind like this would just get me into trouble. If I only had some breathing space -

"STOP!" an authoritative voice shouts as a group of horsemen dressed in the colors of House Robeur charge out of a side street ahead of me, blocking the road, the tell tale flash of steel coming from their hands.

I pull at the reins forcing Loaner to stop and instinctively draw my own sword, brandishing it in challenge. Sandwiched between the gendarme coming from the rear and the Robeur knights in front of me, I apprehensively await what happens next.

The magic knights spur their horses forward, and as they close in, I recognize two out of the four. Henrik leads the procession, wielding an iron staff that gleams coldly in the late afternoon sun. Beside him is my apprentice, Christina with her own wand drawn and ready. Completing the group are a pair of sword apprentices pointing their swords at me with tense expressions on their faces.

"Mac Nair." Henrik announces, "Disarm yourself. I won't say it twice."

"No way. I'm the one being owed an explanation here." I snort, waving my sword about defiantly, "And tell those apprentices to stop acting tough. They're not fooling anyone."

Henrik ignores my demand and raises the iron staff, levelling it squarely at me. The gendarme pauses a safe distance behind us, preventing me from escaping back the way I came. Loaner paces restlessly, the horse's hackles well and truly rustled.

"Christina! Mind telling me what's going on?" I yell out to my apprentice.

But Christina ignores me and I catch the subtle movement of her lips moving downward in a derisive sneer. So that's how it is, huh?

There's a sudden shift in pressure and I immediately sense magic gathering at the head of Henrik's staff.

"Move!" I snap and kick Loaner hard.

Loaner bucks forward in alarm as a dry thunderclap erupts from the head of Henrik's staff. My own training kicks in, activating combat spells enhancing my reflexes. I twist instinctively to the side, and the bullet of compressed magical energy launched from Henrik's staff grazes my cheek, leaving a raw bloody wound in its wake. There's a dull thud as the magical strike punches a hole clean through a cinderblock wall behind us. I nearly got head shotted.

Henrik wanted to kill me.

I grasp the fresh carton of cigarettes in my hand, infusing the contents with my magic. Tossing the carton straight at Henrik's face, my fingers quickly dash off the required movements needed to trigger the spell.

An explosive burst of light and fire tears itself through the carton as all the cigarettes simultaneously set themselves off like a giant firecracker. Henrik and Christina are prepared for this party trick, shielding their eyes and turning away. But their horses of the Robeur Knights are not so lucky, taking the blast right in the face. The horses rear up in panic, forcing Henrik and his knights to focus on regaining control of their steeds rather than pay any attention to me.

Loaner to its credit is not fazed by my magic trick and takes off down the alley Henrik had emerged from without any urging from me. As we gallop down the deserted passage, I am confronted by the sight of my own face block printed on to a poster that had been slapped to a nearby wall. The words printed beneath my face on the poster explain everything, yet nothing.

DEAD OR ALIVE