Dolon knocked on the blue door, its wood sounding thick and dense. It was only a moment before it opened and the glittering eyes of Archer peered out from the shaded lobby inside. It was uneasy facing this man, as Archer was a mystery to all, but his eyes said that he knew all about you.

'Is everyone here?' Dolon asked as he stepped over the threshold. Archer gave a single slow nod and stepped aside for him to pass. Inside was the lobby to an inn with a broken down bar and a number of old rotting chairs strewn about the place. A doorway led down into a basement behind the counter, while a set of stairs next to it led up. Archer pointed up, Dolon gave him a nod and then proceeded up the steps, taking care that the long bag carried over his shoulder did not clash with the wall or the rail.

On the first floor was a straight, narrow hallway with busted down doors and cracked walls. At the far end was another stairway leading to the next floor. 'Up again.' Came Archer's voice from behind. Dolon turned to meet with his black eyes and unlined face. The man was tall, with chiselled features. He wore a long coat of black feathers.

Dolon made his way down the hallway and up the stairs, Archer keeping pace at his heals. Once on the second floor, Dolon was greeted by the masked man of the Harlequins, Stacey. He wore a full leather body suit, that emphasised his sleek physique. The leather mask hid his face well, but not his yellow blonde hair that streamed from the top of the mask to his shoulders. Dolon had once mistaken him for a woman when they first met, something Stacey took no offence from at all.

'Just in time.' Stacey smiled and motioned towards two more men standing in the dank hallway. One was a large brutish looking thing, with shaggy brown hair, thick black eyebrows and scars covering where his ragged clothes did not.

The other was shorter, thinner but muscular in his neck and arms. This man was Niall, black haired and light skinned, but his eyes were dark. Not in colour, they were actually a bright blue. They were dark in their shape. They were mean, denoting a terribleness behind them. It made Dolon shudder more than even Archer's worrying gaze. He wore the colours of the Harlequins, a chequered tunic and trousers of deep dark blue and sunburst yellow, with black leather straps and pouches holding it all together.

No one else bothered to wear the colours, no one but Dolon, who wore them on cloth pants and a tight woollen coat strapped with ammunition belts and various pouches of small tools. And while everyone else was light skinned, as if they had been hidden from sunlight altogether, his skin was dark, and unlike the others his black hair was cropped and his clean shaven face gave him a friendly and calming appearance. When everyone was together, with their ferociousness and darkness and oddnesses, Dolon was the one who stood out the most. Today these features would give him a deceptive advantage that the others did not have.

'Have I kept you waiting long?' Dolon asked Niall from down the hallway.

'Only long enough to get our part of the job done.' The large brutish man answered instead.

'That's good, Gerome. Now sit boy.' Dolon quipped as he walked past the man, who growled. 'What's this guy's name again?' He pulled his various apparatus off while Stacey handed him along coat to cover his colours.

'Micah. Now get on with the job, Dolon. He's at the end of the hallway.' Niall ordered.

'As you command, Niall.' Dolon bowed as he passed. 'I told you before that I would handle this, and I mean to.' He reached the last door of the hall and pushed it open with a creak, the wood was uneven and scraped the floorboards, causing the man inside to look up from staring at the floor.

He was chained to a chair, red glowing shapes scattered across his torso, arms and legs, indicators of physical damage. The face and head had been left alone. Niall, you animal. This kind of torture was typical, and perhaps a little bit too much for a game. Why hasn't this guy just logged out? Dolon knew the answer despite the question. This player's dedication to role play was beyond obsessive, like it was for most players. Besides, the game knew when someone was a prisoner. If he did choose to log out, when he came back to play this is where he would reappear, tied tightly to a chair. It was a cruel fate, taking away one's freedom to enjoy the world, so for the sake of sportsmanship, the act of imprisonment was highly frowned upon, seen as one of the most unethical acts in The Law of War's universal code of honour.

'Get me some water.' Dolon called to the others. No one answered, but he could be sure that Stacey would oblige him.

The room was lit only by a dirty window opposite the door, the floor boards were cracked and broken in places, the walls mucky with mould.. Apart from the single prisoner occupied chair, there was a wooden table and one other wooden chair placed behind the beaten man, beneath the window.

Dolon walked around the prisoner to the table and unslung his rifle bag, placing it on the top as he spoke. 'I'm sorry that you've been put through this.' He stood in front of the window, casting a shadow that enveloped the prisoner's. 'This is far too cruel.'

No answer. Dolon sat himself on the edge of the table and continued to speak. 'I'm here to do what they haven't, I'm here to let you go.' The man's head twitched, his face turned slightly to Dolon. That's it, just go with it. 'Unfortunately that can't happen until you give the men I'm out there the information they need.'

'I can't do that.' The man replied.

At least he's talking. Dolon grabbed hold of the spare chair and walked to the front of the prisoner. He placed it down and sat facing the man. 'You're a strong man. You've suffered this beating and not said a word. I appreciate that strength, I respect it.' He leant forward. 'But strength fails eventually, so you have to let me help you.'

The man narrowed his eyes. 'I don't consider you helping them as helping me.' He looked down at his own body, his clothing ragged and dirty, the red injury markers glowing on his skin. 'If you associate with people who can do this, I-'

The door opened and Stacey stepped in, a clay jug in hand. 'Water.' He said, as he walked to the table and put the item down.

'Thank you.' Said Dolon, as he waved Stacey out of the room.

Dolon retrieved the jug and held it in front of the man. 'Do you want some?' The man nodded and Dolon placed the jug to his lips and poured. 'It looks like they've had you here a while, you look tired.' He said as he removed the jug and placed it on the ground between the two chairs, before sitting back down. 'Give yourself some time to recover, we can move on when you're ready.'

'I'll never be ready to speak.'

'Then allow me.' Dolon gestured to the man with his hand. 'If you'll listen?'

'I can't say that I'll be interested.'

'That's fair enough, I understand your predicament, but I'm sure this will be of interest: They know about the knife. One of those fabled, highly coveted magical items. They're difficult to find, I'm sure you know. The men outside this door also know how difficult it is, they too were looking when you got to it first. But where? An old wood witch near Long Lake had it. You were long gone by the time they arrived, though the wood witch was still alive. Which was odd, because they thought a person would have to kill her to get the knife, with her not being very hospitable and all. There's no reasoning with her. When they took her down, not an easy thing to do for anyone else I might add, and then they searched her hovel, they found nothing. If the witch was still alive when they arrived, then they could only guess that when you stole it, it was under some great amount of stealth. Very skilful of you.

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'Am I right?' Dolon asked the prisoner, but got no reply. 'Well, they left her and her home and then started their search for the item's new owner. For you.' Dolon stood and paced the room. 'The town of Longside was to the south, and tracks from the witch's place led directly there. A few well placed coins and the correct sort of persuasion had the townsfolk willing to tell the men outside everything they needed to know. They told them that a stranger passed through the town, coming from the east, heading north. He soon came back from the north and passed through to the east again.

'They couldn't find much of a description of the man, only that his hair was blood red, and that he spoke like a local to Hurdland. Most red heads come from Amaratsu, so finding one in Hurdland, somewhere, was as good a lead as any.' Dolon pointed to the man's head and the flop of red hair on top. 'Do you know anyone else with hair like that around theses parts? No? Then let's continue.

'The closest stopping point to Longside is The City of Rest, so it was natural that the men would try that city first. Initially there were no leads when looking for a man with red hair, but again, some coin and some... persuasion, led the pursuers to a small business place. This business specialised in finding lost goods. Did a Soldier die and lose a prized sword to his killer? Then they would find the sword and bring it back to the Soldier in his next life! That sort of thing, but also if a person is in need of a special kind of item, something rarer than rare, powerful perhaps, this business would be happy to help. Sounds good, no?'

Dolon sat back in his seat, leant forward and picked up the jug at the man's feet. He played with it, swishing water around. 'By the time the leads were linked together, you had left The City of Rest and delivered the item to your client. The men outside had a name, your name. They had a place of business, with a good M.O. They had a direction, you went east again, perhaps to Port Moonlight, perhaps further east. That meant that the search could lead anywhere else in the world, very troubling. So instead of searching more, the men waited. They watched the east and waited for you to return, which you had to due to your home and business and employees and friends being here. And yes, they know much about the whereabouts of said friends and employees.

'Anyway.' Dolon scratched his head while holding the jug with a free hand.. 'Where were we? Oh yeah, the east. So they waited for you to return, picked you up and now we're here. Sorry, I know the story was a little rushed at the end there, but the sooner I finish, the sooner I can get you out of here.'

'I doubt that with how much you talk.' The prisoner smirked.

'Let's not resort to insults. I'm hired by a sympathetic party to help you get out of this with as little pain as possible.' Dolon lied.

'What damage can they do? The worst is kill me, and I'll only come back.'

'Didn't you hear anything I said? I am trying to convey to you with my story, Micah, the resourcefulness and tenacity of these people. They found you, found your friends, found your business with all of your assets. They are not safe. You should know from experience that they're very destructive when they need to be, or want to be. Nothing connected to you is safe. The effort you and your people have made for however long you've been in the world will be for nothing. They'll destroy it all.'

'They can't destroy everything, not all of my assets, not my reputation.'

'They can try.' Dolon rubbed his brow, as if stressed. 'If the trail doesn't end here, these men will go east, to every city, every outpost, every castle and fort. Eventually they'll find the knife, and when they do, which they most certainly will, they will let the current owner know that it was you who gave the location up. Your reputation will not last.'

'My clients know better, everyone does.'

'That remains to be seen, but I admire your confidence.' Dolon held out the jug. 'Do you want more?'

The man shook his head. 'No.'

He placed the jug back down. 'Will you tell me where the knife was delivered?'

'No.' He shook his head again. 'I never will. No threat will work.'

'You need to give me something.'

'Let me ask you some questions then.' The man sniffed.

'Sure.' Dolon sat back in his chair.

'What kind of racket are you running here? Why would I believe that you're here to help me?'

'Excuse me?' Dolon sat up straight.

'No one knows I'm here! You've never once explained who would have sent you, this makes no sense at all!' He laughed. 'You're a fool. I know you're one of them.'

This is why I'm here, to pull off Niall's plans, and fix them when they go wrong. Dolon laughed. 'You got me there.' He leant forward. 'Can I be straight with you, Micah?'

'You can try, though I might not believe you.'

'Well Micah, I have lied to you, partly. I am here to get you free, because if I don't get the information we need out of you, then you'll never leave here'-

'Alive?' The red haired Micah interrupted, then laughed. 'I think we've already established that it'll be useless to kill me, or to destroy my entire world, boo-hoo.'

'You should let me finish.' Dolon stood up and walked to the table, Micah tried to turn and follow him. 'If you don't give me the information I want, then you'll never leave here without something to show for it.' He unclasped a pouch attached to his rifle bag and retrieved a large black metallic revolver from it.

'What do you mean?'

Dolon walked back to his seat. 'It's like this: The men outside that door would have you tied up and locked away in some dungeon somewhere and force fed to keep you alive. You would never see your friends, or even daylight again. You would never enjoy the world ever again. Not until you gave up the information.'

'You can't do tha-'

'You're right, I can't.' Dolon pressed the barrel of the pistol into the socket of Micah's eye. 'And I can't force them not to, but I can do something more permanent.'

'What're you-' The man started.

'When you die, whatever way you were killed shows up as a scar in the next life. I'm sure you know this. Now at the least, I figure that if I pull this trigger you end up with a nasty scar that is either a cool war story on your part, or worse.' He bent the hammer of the pistol back with a click. 'You see, I've witnessed many people in the world wearing eye patches. Their faces are scarred underneath and their vision is gone.' The prisoner's expression changed. 'That's right, in the next life you can become blind. Did you not know? So I pull this trigger and you die. You're no longer a prisoner, you won't be trapped forever, forced to live a lonely life in the world, but you will be blind in one eye. And then the men outside will find you again, and they will bring you to me.'

Dolon stood and pushed the weapon harder into the man's face, then fear finally showed in his expression. I'm sorry to do this Micah, but I have a part to play. 'And when they bring you back, I will take my pistol and place it in your other eye, and I will ask you: “Where is the knife”. I may not even wait for an answer, because if I have to see your face again after today, I will not be happy. Then you truly will never see your clients, your friends, or even the light of the world again.'

Dolon pulled the pistol away and relaxed the hammer, then he picked up the jug of water and placed it to the man's lips. 'Take a sip, refresh yourself, then know that your reputation does not have to come to harm. No one will know that we've taken the item for ourselves, and you'll still have your money from the job, and your livelihood.' He smiled the friendliest smile he could. 'Take a sip and think it through, and then like I said, we'll get you out of here.'

The man dared not pull away. Instead, he drank.