Korran stared up at the roof of his tent and finally accepted that a peaceful sleep was miles away and not getting any closer. It felt like the weight of his bounty was on his chest, making its presence known with every breath he took.

He got up from the makeshift bed which consisted of a blanket and his satchel for a pillow. Most would consider it uncomfortable but Korran had endured much worse sleeping conditions and his body was plenty used to finding the smallest comforts in blankets of discomfort.

A memory came to him then, unannounced and unwanted - as they often were. It was a night for training his pain tolerance and he'd been commanded to lay in a pit of coal. The jutting rocks was plenty uncomfortable against his back but he'd consider it a blessing if that was all the night had in store for him.

Sure enough, the night wasn't in a merciful mood. As the heated coal became hot enough for the shirt of Korran's fabric to melt into his skin and the revolving stink of burning flesh drifted into the soft breeze, Korran let out a soft whimper that was not quiet enough for their liking.

"Hush child," came an angry voice from the edge of the pit. "Embrace the pain and let not it consume you."

Korran would've loved to help the supervisor embrace some pain of his own but instead, he heeded the man's words and focused on implementing the technique that had been drilled into him. Pain was a persistent invader but the mind was a powerful tool. The Kalio clan especially believed so.

They theorized that the mind was able to shut out the presence of pain, banishing it into the subconscious mind frame to dampen its presence, or in the case of skilled individuals - completely ignore it. Of course, this was no inherited skill, but an earned one.

Korran strained to ignore the unbearable pain that caused his body to spasm slightly. He would've already bolted upward if not for the comparable fear of having his wrists strapped down. His muscles clenched as he tried to focus on anything else than the searing pain that screamed for his attention.

His eyes latched on to the half moon resting perfectly in the middle of an unforgiving sky. The tears that settled in his eyes caused it to appear bigger and brighter and he couldn't help thinking how beautiful it appeared. It was just like...

Like a dagger.

Now - in the present night - the half moon that occupied the sky reminded him of that night. It was curved like a glorious dagger, ready to be plucked out of the sky and driven into his enemies.

Korran advanced past the tents of his companions, wary that one of them would be waiting in the dark ready to ambush him. The secret was out there in the open now and he didn't past any of them to try their luck. Heck, if the shoe was on the other foot he might've chosen the quick money himself.

He reached the edge of the area where they had set up camp for the night and leaned against a tree on the perimeter. Wulfur stirred from his position a few trees down, casting a suspicious glance Korran's way before setting his head back down with his ears staying up in the air. Korran kept an eye on the mutt as he tried to sort his thoughts out.

Not long after, Korran heard the faint rustle of footsteps. He didn't need a slither of light to make out Ardus' imposing figure. Although it was weird to see him without his giant Warhammer - his height was simply too distinctive.

"Can't sleep, eh?" The man asked, settling in on the tree next to Korran.

"How did you know I was out here?" Korran asked suspiciously.

Ardus shrugged - a movement that looked painfully awkward on him. "Quiet night."

Korra knew there was no way in hell Ardus had heard him walk over here. His confidence in his ability to be silent was not arrogance - but a simple fact. However, he didn't push the issue. "Right," he muttered.

"You can loosen up and stop side-eyeing me, I don't desire the gurdees on your head."

Korran raised an eyebrow, taken aback that he'd been noticed. "What, did the mountains give you night vision or something?"

Ardus gave a throaty chuckle. "Might as well, eh." The man's tone gave Korran pause. Although he couldn't quite make out the man's expression in the shadow of the late night, he detected a note of sadness between the man's words.

"You don't strike me as a man willing to risk his life to fill his pocket, Ardus; and it feels even less likely that there's a single criminal bone within that huge body of yours to give Alaric enough leverage to drag you along," Korran prodded lightly. "What's your deal?"

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Ardus grunted softly. "I didn't take you for the conversational type."

"I like to know who is supposed to be on my side...so that if they join the other side I'll know where their body is most tender."

"Charming." The tree groaned as Ardus repositioned himself against it. "You're right - as you probably expected, yeah? I've noticed how you watch your surroundings and people's reactions. You pay close attention and I imagine your subconscious rewards you greatly for that." He sighed deeply before continuing, "I'm not guided by the promise of treasure, nor manipulated by a leash of Alaric's. What I seek is justice. The Greta Company is working for Duke Milto; should he get his hands on the Kaiser treasure...let's just say carnage will find a new favorite student."

Korran didn't allow his surprise to be displayed on his face. "So you do believe the myth surrounding the Kaiser treasure?"

"I believe that there are certain weapons blessed by the Gods, yes. If the Kaiser treasure truly holds one of those is to be discovered, but I can't let the possibility go unnoticed."

"Think of yourself as a modern day Po-Slate, do you?" Korran asked with a hint of sarcasm. Po-Slate was a famous samurai of the past, though many questioned if he really existed at all - the stories of his heroics made up bedtime and campfire stories alike.

"Just doing my duty." Korran made out Ardus' dark figure shifting as he gripped the pendant on his necklace. "I imagine you're after your share to clear your bounty - if Alaric hasn't offered that as a condition already."

Korran grunted in response, providing no further clarification. It was a few minutes before Ardus spoke again, "I'm curious what those eyes of yours see when they look at Petra. Do you fancy her a criminal?"

"She certainly has the look of someone who has killed multiple times," Korran responded after a second's pause. "Hasn't quite gotten over the act either, it's written all in the unnatural bags under her eyes. A face that soft only gets those deep crevices from being haunted."

"Do mannerisms really reveal that much about a person?" Ardus asked skeptically. "Personally, I've never realized."

"Most don't. It's a skill that needs just as much training as swinging a sword, but rarely does anyone think of it that way, so even the most proficient observers are unknowingly holding themselves back."

Ardus gave a second for the information to digest then asked, "What of Alaric then?"

Korran felt a flash of annoyance but stomached the unexpected feeling. "What about him?"

"What do you think of him?"

Korran hesitated for a moment as he wondered exactly how close Ardus was to Alaric. He hadn't forgotten how quickly he'd taken the man's back to stop his rightful execution of Nolan. He ultimately decided it didn't matter either way. "He's someone who operates with a big moral compass - which can be a great weakness - but he's at least moderately capable overall. His great passion for his goal makes him unpredictable."

"Morality is rarely ever a weakness," came Ardus' predictable reply. Korran could hear the frown in his voice.

Korran scoffed but didn't bother participating in a pointless argument. They had grown up differently and were bound to be stubborn in their beliefs. Ardus didn't seem eager to press the issue either and they stood in relative silence, listening to the sounds of the night.

The haunting whisper of the wind drifting through the trees, carrying with it the chirps of crickets, the hooting of owls, the occasional snap of a twig, and the persistent rustling of leaves along with the occasional slosh of a distant river once again unearthed memories Korran would rather leave buried.

There was a time he was pitted in a forest alone - left to fend for himself for a week. At the tender age of eleven, Korran had the tools in his arsenal to hunt, protect and evade when necessary in the day, so it was a relative breeze. However, the times when the moonlight failed to penetrate the fog of a soulless night were terrifying.

Every oddly shaped branch, every sound that reached the ear, and every leaf or branch that swiped at the skin allowed for fear to rake its grizzly claws across the heart. Fear materialized then, existing in every shadow and playing one's heart to a drum. It was enough to make a man mad.

Korran had quickly realized that his chance of survival would rise considerably only if he could conquer the grasp of fear that ruled the night. So, he adapted and learned the difference between the rock of a stable object and a moving shape, the distinct burning of unseen eyes, and most importantly - he mastered the art of peripheral vision. It was why Alaric didn't have a chance of tailing him undetected - his awareness was simply too advanced.

He hadn't lied to Ardus about the art of observing requiring training, but no city would be quit to adopt the immoral training he went through. His clan put his life on the line at every turn, and it's why he had come out sharper each time. A system where the mind was forced to disregard asserted limits or risk death.

"You know, I have a feeling once we get to this next harbor it'll be a bumpy ride from then on," Ardus commented. The man's voice was anything but soft but it might as well have been a mother's caress with the effect it had pulling Korran out of his memory. Ardus continued, unaware of Korran's turmoil, "Which is why I think it's important everyone is capable of working together."

"Speak your mind," said Korran, though he knew exactly what the man was referring to.

"This little feud between you and Mathis, there's no room for that if this mission is to be successful. There's more at stake here than what I figure is your average job, so I hope you'll wisen up." With that advice, Ardus stalked away in the direction of the tents, leaving Korran to consider his words.

As much as he disliked it, he couldn't find fault in the tribesman's words. With their current animosity levels, Korran would always view Mathis as a highly potential backstabber. Korran looked up as a plan started to form in his mind.

A cloud had trespassed on the image of his beloved dagger moon, its placement in the middle causing it to look as if the dagger had been severed. Korran chuckled to himself as he thought about how Ardus would take it as a message from the Gods.

For Korran it only meant his daggers were mightier - because no cloud could hide his enemies from judgement day.