Chapter Fourteen: King Joses

Finneas was awoken early by a hard knock on the door. It was Marcus. The man said Brienne planned on leaving as soon as possible. Finneas stretched his arms and climbed out of the bed. He rubbed his eyes and opened the door. The same ginger cat who'd greeted him the day before rushed into the room. Finneas felt obliged to give the cat a scratch around the ear. The cat seemed to like this, chirping as the boy pet him.

“Nice cat,” Finneas remarked. “Does it have a name?”

“Me wife calls it Chuck,” the innkeeper replied. “Found it as a kitten. Someone had thrown chucked it away. Margery thought it be appropriate to call the thing Chuck.”

The cat followed Finneas downstairs. Marcus's wife Margery had prepared the kid some breakfast – oats with golden syrup poured atop. The food felt fresh, unlike the porridge that was served back in the orphanage. Besides the half-rotten food, the Matron would also refuse to buy syrup, or anything to sweeten the meal. Cook Nanci would occasionally buy sugar, using her own money, but that was rare – the woman couldn't always able to afford to buy food herself.

As Finneas ate his food, Brienne returned from the courtyard back of the inn. Dashing from the kitten, Margery rushed to the table with another bowl of oats. The innkeeper's wife looked quite young; her pale skin lacked any wrinkles. What threw Finneas off was the woman's grey hair. He found it rather strange a woman could grey so early.

"Thanks," Brienne said as the woman placed the bowl on the table.

“You’re welcome, my lady,” Margery responded, before leaving the two to themselves.

“So, we’re going to meet Cymon’s brother,” Finneas asked.

“Cymon… oh, Prince Neco,” Brienne quickly realised whom Finneas was talking about. “We’ll be meeting the Exiled King sometime today. We first need to make a trip to the temple district.”

“Temple district?”

Finneas remember glancing at a map in one of Teller's books. The temple district, a large temple complex, was situated on the other side of the river. That was near the Palace of Kings. Did they truly want to go near where his uncle resided? Surely the governor would be looking for him.

"You'll need to wear a hat or something," Brienne explained. "I'm sure Marcus would have some lying around."

Finneas’s curly hair was a dead giveaway and certainly would attract attention. He understood why Brienne would want him to hide that. Still, this didn't answer his question.

“But why the temple district,” he asked again. “Surely that’s not safe?”

“It’s risky,” Brienne replied. “But the temple is where the symbols are. A friend of mine, a man named Hextor can sneak us in.”

“You want to see if we can find the symbols?” Finneas was beginning to understand Brienne’s intentions.

“Exactly,” she responded. “The sooner we leave, the better.”

Finneas quickly finished eating his oats. He asked Marcus whether he could borrow a hat, or something, to hide his curly hair. The innkeeper found an old beanie a patron once left. While Margery has washed it, the beanie still smelt of alcohol, and possibly vomit. Finneas wasn't too keen on wearing the beanie, he wasn't too keen to be caught by the governor's men either.

They quickly scurried through the city, using mainly the backroads, especially whenever they came upon a heavy guard presence. Finneas felt his muscles nervously tense as they pass the Palace of Kings. Finneas was still worried one of the guards would recognise him. Luckily, this didn't happen. The simple thought of being caught again made his stomach hurt.

They soon came to an old stone bridge, which crossed the large river separating the temple district from the rest of the city. The structure was built similar to the temples scattered around Estmere and the Riverlands, showing how old this bridge was. Like the temples, strange designs were carved into the bridge showing the region’s ancient history. Unlike the temples found in Estmere, Finneas noticed faint pain marks – the colours of blue, green and red – left by the original builders. He could only imagine what the bridge would’ve looked like when it was first built.

Entering the temple district, Finneas was amazed at the sight. Templers were towering above other temples, which the Grand Temple shadowing everything else. The tallest structure in the city, besides the Palace of Kings, the Grand Temple was built as a step pyramid. While the other temples Finneas had seen while travelling through Estmere were built similarly, without the forestry getting into the way, Finneas was able to get a better glance at what the building was meant to look like. The temple had a long staircase going up the front of the structure, with an inner sanctum contained in a building up top. Although old and weathered, the priest who inhabited the temple certainly maintain the building with great care. On each side of the large staircase were two entranceways, leading to the lower floors.

As they passed through one of the temple's courtyards, Brienne suddenly stopped. A ritual was about to take place. Upon a raised platform, a Native man waited with a dagger in his hand. The priest was wearing a pure white gown with gold seams. Like all the other priests, his head was shaved, besides the small sliver of hair on top. An attendant, who was probably in his late teens or early twenties, lead a goat toward a bath area. The boy young scrubbed the animal with a sponge cleaning it of its impurities, before using a towel to dry the goat. The creature bleated a few yelps, unaware of its fate.

With the animal clean, the attendant led the goat towards the altar. The animal tried to budge, pulling itself away. Anticipating this, the attendant quickly nudged the goat forward in the direction he wanted. With the animal now in position, the priest approached the creature. The attendant continued to calm the animal, who was starting to become agitated. The priest stroked the goat, uttering something softly in the animal's ear, before placing the sacrificial blade up to the goat's neck. With one clean swipe, the man slit the goat's throat. Blood began pouring from the animal's neck. The attendant quickly rushed to place a bowl underneath, catching the blood. The priest began chanting, using a Native tongue. Finneas was unable to understand what the man was saying.

The blood soon stopped pouring. The assistant quickly picked up the animal's corpse and took it away. The priest took the bowl and placed it on the altar. The man sprinkled what Finneas assumed was incense into the bowl, before using a nearby candlestick to light the vessel aflame.

“My father doesn’t like these rituals,” Brienne explained. “I guess it's an imperial thing. We're not one for doing rituals like this. Father sees this as backwards – something only savages do."

“What about you?”

“Whatever keeps a person sleeping at night,” Brienne responded. “I can understand some people being squeamish over the brutality. But it serves its purpose.”

Finneas remember these rituals being performed back in Angluem. Although a Native tradition, the free folk had adopted many of the local religious beliefs. A ram would usually be sacrificed once a year during Bell Time to honour the Maker. Finneas knew up north in the temple city of Heathread, where there was a larger Native population, rituals like this occurred daily.

With the ritual over, Brienne continued leading Finneas through the large temple complex. They soon came to a small building. Although not a temple, the building was ancient, built in the same style as everything else. Brienne approached the door and knocked.

“Who is it?” a person from inside yelled.

“It’s me, Brienne,” she replied, although not as loud.

“I won’t be a minute,” the man inside continued to yell. “I need to find the keys.”

“Don’t mind Brother Hextor,” Brienne apologised to Finneas in advance. “He hasn’t got the best hearing. But I do trust him.”

That was good to know, Finneas thought. They could hear the sound of locks being turned. The door suddenly opened. An elderly gentleman appeared from inside. The man seemed to be old, perhaps in his seventies. He wore a brown robe, and his hair was cut in a bowl shape. Although greying, Finneas noticed the man’s hair had a hint of amber. He could tell the man was a scholar of some sort just by how he was dressed and his demeanour.

“Come in quickly,” the man said.

The man led them down a corridor – there were doors on both sides of the hallway, leading into large rooms full of books. Teller would be at home here, Finneas thought. Instead of entering either of the side rooms, the man took them to the room on the other side of the building – a small kitchen area. The scholar instructed the two kids to sit down at the only table in the room cramped room.

“Brother Hextor," Brienne began before being interrupted by the man.

“What brings you here,” Hextor asked sternly. “I’ve told you before not to bother me during my mediation.”

“I’m sorry,” Brienne apologised. “But this is important.”

“And how so?”

“This boy here… he’s the Seer.”

“And a perfect stand-in for our Governor when he was young,” the man responded.

“He’s my uncle,” Finneas explained.

“Could’ve thought that,” the scholar replied. “While I’m uninterested in interfering in family drama, the Seer part has pocked my interest.”

“I can see symbols.”

“Yes,” the man interrupted again. “I know the legends. The Seer can see symbols no one else can see. But can you prove it?"

There was a scrap of paper on the table. Using a quill, Finneas drew some of the symbols he could remember. Feeling he'd drawn enough; he returned the paper to the scholar. Hextor scanned it. The man nodded now and then as he read it.

“The last Seer, almost a thousand years ago, drew down some of the symbols,” the man explained. “Very few men have seen them, the tomes containing these symbols a heavily guarded secret.”

“The scholar back in the Palace said something similar,” Finneas remarked.

“And he’s right,” Hextor continued. “Davin is no fool. He too would know the symbols. In fact, he owns a book on this very topic – detailing the Goblin script.”

“Goblin script?” Finneas sounded confused.

“Are kids nowadays taught anything,” the man crudely remarked. “The Seer… the old one… was said to have worked with the goblins to create the portal just outside the city. The Seer built two, one here, and one in the Imperial City. Before the Seer died, he had the symbol used to reach Ever Growing Magic inscribed in the great temple itself. And only another Seer, could see those symbols.”

“That’s why we came to you,” Brienne added in. “We need to look at that wall.”

“It won’t be any good,” Hextor replied. "While I certainly can't see the symbols myself, I know the inscription has more than the coordinates. As I said before, Davin has a book detailing the content on the wall. If my memory serves me correct, the book should reveal the exact location of the coordinates. Without that, all you'll see is gibberish. And it's going to take a long time to help translate the work."

Brienne groaned. “I’m going to have to talk to King Joses.”

“That might be your best course.”

"Thanks for the insight," Brienne complimented.

“Glad to be of service,” the man responded.

“I guess it's time to introduce you to the king,” Brienne said to Finneas. “Let’s just say, his court is nearby here.”

“Nearby?”

“You’ll see,” Brienne laughed. “I hope you don’t mind the smell of sewers.”

“Sewers?” Finneas thought aloud. Memories of trudging through the sewers back in Angluem came back to his mind.

“It’s not that bad,” Brienne explained. “But you’ll be safe there.”

The two left the library, making their way through the temple district. They crossed the bridge again; walking passed the Palace of Kings. There were more guards than before. Finneas hoped this wasn’t because of him. They walked through the market district, before wandering into the city’s slums. Unlike the upper-class areas, the slums were worn down. The buildings were similar to the ones found in Angluem; made of brick that was crumbling away. Unlike his hometown, Finneas noticed there were no tall apartment towers spiralling into the sky.

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Going straight through the slums was a marshy river, off shooting the larger river. The marshy area was rather large, spanning at least a mile in length. Because the land was scant here, people had built their houses on stilts. These structures were far more crudely built than the other buildings, being made from scrapped boards people were able to find. Finneas and Brienne used an old bridge to cross the marshy river. The bridge itself wobbled as the walking on it. Finneas was half afraid the boards would break.

Following the marshy river down, they soon came to drainage, which opened up to the river. Although the large circular entranceway had bars, they were far apart enough for someone to slide through.

Finneas followed Brienne down the sewer. Unlike the sewers in Angluem, these didn't smell as bad. Brienne explained how these drainage pipes were barely used. Besides the water slipping in from the river outside, there was barely any water in the sewer’s pipelines. As result, the Exiled King had set up his makeshift court beneath the slums. It took ten minutes, delving deeper and deeper underground before they reach a wooden wall blocking the path forward.

Brienne knocked on the door.

“What’s the passcode,” someone said inside.

“The hammer strikes fear in his enemies,” Brienne answered.

“Correct,” the person said, opening the door to let them inside.

Walking through the doorway, they were greeted by a Native man, perhaps in his forties. The man wore a large greet trench coat. His hair was long and shaggy.

“Brienne!” he exclaimed.

“Shaphan!” Brienne replied, before embracing the man with a hug.

“Who’s your friend?” the man soon asked. “He looks a lot like one of the kids we rescued yesterday.”

“My brother’s here!” Finneas said excitedly.

When Finneas heard from Sebastos that some of the survivors of the boat attack were rescued by the rebel, he wasn’t too sure whether to believe this included his brother and friends.

“A Fisherman found them washed ashore yesterday,” Shaphan explained. “They’re the only survivors from that attack. Damn dark tapers.”

“Did any of them say their names?” Finneas continued to probe, desperate to discern as much information as possible. "Anyone named Kenelm?"

"One of the boys said his name was Kistoph.”

It was them.

“That’s my friend,” Finneas explained. “My brother must be here too.”

Shaphan laughed.

“How about we go meet them,” the Native man said. “His Majesty is kind of busy at the moment. I’m sure you want to talk to him, Brienne. I’ll take you to the kid here’s friends, and I’ll go tell the king of your arrival.”

Brienne nodded in agreement. The two kids followed Shaphan as he frogmarched down a corridor, leading into what appeared to be an old cleaning plant. The man led the two to a side room. Opening the door, Shaphan prompted the kids to enter. Eager to finally see his friends again, Finneas entered. His friend was sitting in a circle in the corner of the room. Small damp room, the only source of light was a lamp placed in the corner. The four kids were grouped around the light, playing a game of cards.

The moment his brother realised Finneas was there, Kenelm stood up and rushed towards him, leaving the game unattended. The boy tightly embraced his older sibling, hugging so hard that he was squeezing him. Finneas did the same, wrapping his arms around Kenelm’s upper chest. At times, the two mightn’t have gotten along, and even butted heads, but they were family. Kenelm was his younger brother, and there was no way he was going to forget that. Although the governor claimed to be his uncle – Finneas still refused to believe that – Kenelm was his only family. Although he did see his friends as family, his brother was his blood. Nothing would change that.

Kistoph, who had carefully placed his cards faced downwards, approached the two boys. Finneas and his friend shook hands, before embracing each other in a hug. The sudden reappearance of his friends took him by surprise. Finneas wondered whether he was dreaming. A gentle punch to the shoulder confirmed he wasn’t asleep.

“Where were you,” Mollie said.

“I went back to the storage room,” Finneas explained. “Me and Lochen looked for you.”

“Petro found us,” Mollie explained. “Got us on board a lifeboat before the ship sunk.”

Before he could finish, Brienne interrupted. She had stood there in silence for a few minutes. Finneas had forgotten even to introduce her. He felt somewhat foolish.

“These your friend?” she asked.

“Sorry,” Finneas apologised. “I should’ve introduced you. This is Brienne?”

“Brienne?” Teller enquired. “Like the governor’s daughter?”

It was obvious the younger boy had been doing some reading, researching the geopolitical state of the city. Teller was rather blunt with his remark, something that was unusual for him – typically it was Kistoph who’d be the blunt one.

“My father is indeed the governor. How did you know?”

“I read,” Teller said simply.

“Where’s Lochen?” Kistoph interrupted. “You mentioned he was with you.”

Finneas of kind of surprised his friend was interested in the whereabouts of Lochen. In fact, he thought it was strange Kistoph seemed so relaxed surrounded by Natives.

“We escaped the ship, like you,” Finneas explained. “A dark taper helped us.”

“You met a dark taper? And you didn’t die?” Mollie said bewilderingly.

"Not sure what his motives were, but he helped us get off the ship," Finneas continued. "We landed west of the city. Was caught by the governor's men. Haven't seen Lochen since.”

“Knowing my father, he’s probably being sent to the mines,” Brienne spoke. “Before helping you escape, I heard some guard mention the boy being a taper. Is that true?”

“Yeah, he’s a taper.”

“Well, the only way he’ll be freed is if we overthrow my father’s rule,” she continued. “And our best chance is with the King Joses.”

The moment Brienne had finished speaking, Shaphan, the man they’d encountered earlier, returned.

“The king’s ready to see you, Brienne.”

Brienne left the room with Shaphan, giving Finneas the chance to catch up with his friends. Unable to leave the room, Finneas joined in the game of cards. As usual, Kistoph kept winning. Somehow his friend was able to constantly get good hands. Finneas wondered if he was cheating, but decided not to protest the results. After ten minutes or so, Shaphan returned, this time without Brienne.

“The king wants to see you in private,” the Native man announced.

Finneas followed Staphan out of the room, and into a large centre room. The man led Finneas through another side door, this one leading down a corridor. Staphan came to one of the doors, before opening it. The man gestured for Finneas to enter.

The room was small and simple, with enough room for a desk. Crouching at the desk was a Native man, perhaps in his late thirties. His olive-skinned face hid somewhat in the shadows. But Finneas could tell immediately who this made was. He looked very similar to his younger brother.

“They say the prophet Yeramia wept so much, his tears cleanse the nation’s sin,” the man remarked. “If only it was possible now. Has the Maker truly abandoned us?”

Realising he had visitors, the man looked up. It was quite apparent the exiled king and Cymon were brothers. The two men had the same eyes, a mustard brown, and the same nose, large and pointy. They even had the same auburn wild hair. The only difference was the older brother's bushy beard. The man wore a leather jacket that tightly gript him. The worn looked on the king's face revealed an almost broken person. Although no outward appearing scars, Cymon’s brother seemed battered and bruised, and very certainly tired. The weight of the man’s duty had done its toll.

“Both Brienne and Sebastos have informed me who you are,” the exiled king said, standing up to approach Finneas. He gestured for a handshake. Finneas obliged. “But I feel a proper introduction is needed. I am-”

“King Joses,” Finneas finished the sentence. “Your brother… well… brought me here.”

“I have been informed you travelled with my brother, Prince Neco.”

“We were only together for a few days,” Finneas said honestly. “Cymon… I mean Prince Neco… he was caught. I’m sorry.”

“It’s typical of my brother getting in trouble,” King Joses continued. “He was always the hot-headed one. Too rash, my father would warn.”

Finneas wanted to laugh but decided against it. He wasn't sure if the exiled king would understand his humour. What was it with younger siblings and wanting to prove themselves, Finneas wondered? The way everyone talked about Cymon, people would be easily mistaken the water taper being similar to Finneas’s brother Kenelm. But Kenelm and the prince were nothing alike. For a few brief days he'd known Cymon, it was quite apparent the water taper was a deep thinker – something Finneas knew his brother wasn’t. They were completely unalike.

“You have arrived at the most unfortunate time,” the king explained. “It is difficult to discern, but the arrival of the Seer doesn't bode well for my people. I can't tell whether it's a blessing or a curse."

“What do you mean?”

The king didn’t answer his question.

"I want you to answer a question, and I want you to answer this honestly," Joses asked, towering above Finneas, “are you a man, or simply a pawn.”

“Ah… what question is that?” Finneas asked aloud. He probably shouldn't have been so brazen with his statement, especially in front of a king. Yet the man's question baffled him. "I assume I'm a man, at least I'll be eventually."

Joses simply laughed.

“Did I say something wrong?” Finneas inquired.

“No… no… not at all. We are all pawns… to a game not meant for us,” he reacted. “Perhaps only the Maker knows. Perhaps I am wrong; who knows.”

“I don’t know if Brienne informed you, but I am the Governor’s nephew,” Finneas explained. “A long-lost nephew, it seems.”

“Brienne did inform me,” the man responded.

“Is there a problem,” Finneas asked.

“No… not at all,” King Joses continued. “Brienne is also a blood relative of the Governor, being his daughter. But that shouldn’t stop someone from aiding our cause. We cannot choose who we are, but we can choose who we can become.”

“Like your brother?”

“Neco?”

“He said you wanted him to become a scholar.”

“He told you that?” the king asked. Finneas nodded. “My brother is a strange being, unsure of himself. I always thought he wanted to become a scholar. Neco is constantly running. If only he was to stop once in a while and access his place in the world.”

“He never wanted to be a scholar,” Finneas repeated.

“If that’s who he felt,” the man remarked, “he should’ve told me in person. It’s typical of my brother not opening up like that.”

The room became silent. Finneas was unsure what to say. The king finally ended the silence.

“It seems I must inform my people what we plan to do,” King Joses explained. “We need to restore magic, I know that. But we cannot do so until the Imperials and the Order have been driven out of the region.”

“An uprising?”

“If need be,” the man said. “I will talk to my steward Staphan. You can return to your friends. Our band of rebels will meet up soon to discuss a plan of attack.”

Finneas returned to the room where his friends were. For another half-hour, they play more games of cards. This time Finneas himself was getting the better hands. The thought of the conversation he had with the king still lingered in his head. What was the king planning? Finneas realised Revitea was a tinderbox, only waiting to be lit. He just hoped the explosion won't harm him, his brother, or his friends.

Some time passed when Staphan entered the room.

"The king is going to be talking," the man announced. "I think would everyone will want to hear this."

The group hurried outside to find the main room rather crowded. At least a hundred or so people gathered around in the large circle. Standing up, King Joses began to speak.

"I know things are tough," the king declared. "Things haven't been easy for us. The governor is strengthening his grip over the city. I know many of our brethren have been imprisoned by this tyrannical regime. Native tapers, born with the ability to weld magic suffer in the mines to the north. But despite the darkness, I believe we can overcome this."

“You don’t know the half of it,” one of the men yelled from the crowd. “My son was arrested last week. I’ve not heard from him since then. I don’t know if he’s still alive.”

“I understand your troubles,” King Joses responded. “We are all struggling, I know. My younger brother is missing, possibly captured by the Order, and my sister is held prisoner in the Imperial City.” He paused for a moment. “But I bring you hope,” he continued. “A light at the end of an endless tunnel. Some miraculous has happened. Our friend and ally, Sebastos, has found the Seer?”

“The Seer?” another person in the crowd said. “The guy that started the Order? Made the Imperial powerful enough to conquer us?”

"He's not the Seer," the king explained. "But he can see the symbols. He can open a portal to Ever-Growing Magic, and restore this world. With new magic breathing into the lunges of the world, we can be free of the Order. The abundance of magic would sever the grip the Order holds on all of us."

The king paused again. No one dared speak again.

“Now is the time we grasp the moment,” King Joses announced. “It’s time to tell the Order they are not welcome. It’s time the kick the Republic out of our lands. It’s time the Riverlands was ruled by Riverlanders, and not corrupt bureaucrats from a crumbling wannabe empire.”

“If we’re going to have a chance to overthrow my father,” Brienne added, “we are going to need support. Your people alone won’t overthrow the Republic.”

“Of course not,” the king seemed determined. “But many people from around the region are sick and tired of the abuse. If people know they can challenge a mighty giant, they will join the fight.”

“I’m not saying people won’t join the rebellion,” Brienne defended her statement. “But we’ll need the Fire Tribe on our side. With Azhem fighting for you, there is no question you will triumph.”

“As much as I want to disagree with you – and I have my problem with Azhem – you are right, we need his men and him on our side.”

“If I take Finneas, the Seer, to see Fire Tribe, to show their leader the weapon we have,” Brienne stated, “perhaps that’ll convince him to join our cause.”

The king frowned at this suggestion. "Although I'm uncertain even that will work – Azhem is stubborn even at the best of times – meeting the boy might persuade him.”

“We can leave tomorrow, before sunrise,” Brienne explained. “It would be harder for my father’s men to detect us.”

“I hope you know what you are doing,” the king responded. “But if it means we gain another ally in this fight, then do so.”

As everyone began to disperse, Finneas’s friend approached him

“Well… that was something,” Kistoph remarked.

“You can say that,” Finneas replied. “A bit nervous meeting this guy… this Azhem. I wonder what beef he has with the king?"

“You don’t have to worry,” Kistoph said, smiling. “You don’t have to go alone. I might as well go with you.”

“You sure?”

"I've come with you this far already," Kistoph half-joked. "What's another day's journey. Plus, do you expect me to be stuck here with these Natives. These guys will drive me mad, I say."

“If he’s going, I’m going too,” Mollie quickly added. “Who else is going to protect my brother from another mother.”

Finneas found it weird, but his brother decided to stay. He thought Kenelm was going to insist on going with him. Perhaps knowing he was going to return convinced his younger brother to stay. At least Teller was there to keep him company, Finneas thought.

They awoke the next morning. Leaving the sewers, Finneas thought it strange the sky was still dark. The sun was yet to rise. It wasn’t going to rise for another few hours. This gave the kids enough time to sneak through the city, making their way to the forest west of Rivetea.

Entering the forest, Finneas thought this was the right time to ask Brienne what the issue King Joses had with Azhem. Brienne explained how Azhem lead a small tribe of Fire Tapers, along with other dissident Riverlanders. The man wanted to overthrow the Governor years ago in a violent revolt. The king refused to go along with Azhem’s plan, and so the alliance between the two broke up.

The wood east to Revitea was similar to the ones back in Estmere, although denser and less hilly. At least Kistoph won’t complain about walking uphill, Finneas thought to himself. He was half-convinced he'd seem as similar looking tree back in the Hlath Forest as if someone had uprooted the tree and moved it to the Riverlands.

They wandered through the forest for what felt like hours. The sun began to rise; the light glittering through the leaves. An eerie feeling came upon Finneas. Something wasn't right. Everything was too quiet. A person would at least expect to hear birds chirping in the trees, or even a fox passing nearby. But yet there was silence. The only noise that could be heard was whenever either of them stood on a branch. Finneas hoped that wouldn't cause too much noise and attention. He could even hear his friend breathing deeply. For a boy that acted tough, Kistoph could sense the danger and seem somewhat weary and afraid.

Suddenly, an arrow flew over Finneas’s head, barely missing him. Loud footsteps from all directions. The group came to an abrupt halt. Just as Finneas moved forward, a spear seemingly came out of nowhere. Finneas came face-to-face with a rather angrily looking Woman. She was Sanlander and looked to be in her thirties.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” she smirked.