Olaf stepped out of the carriage and onto the platform, breathing in the salty southern air. Huldain followed him and pulled off his cloak, sweating in the heat. Alun came off next, looking around the station furtively. Marius hopped out behind him, patting his brother on the back.

Marius had not been to the capital before, and he frowned at the multitude of people that walked in each direction. The steam from the locomotives seemed to hide most of the crowd, but even still, Marius saw more people than he had ever experienced. Even Doflhiem was not as crowded.

They made their way across the misted station, and were searching for the exits when suddenly a scream sounded out. Olaf immediately looked around, trying to find out where it had come from. More screams rang out, acting as a prelude to the stampeding crowd. The companions fought against the growing tide of people, but were carried out from the station, just in time to hear a cacophonous bang. The ground shook, the sound of grating metal and smashing glass filled the air, and the crowd stopped to look around; the mist had dispersed, forced out from the sheer size of the explosion.

Olaf, Marius, Huldain, and Alun watched in a mixture of horror and amazement, as a black locomotive shot into the station without slowing. It ploughed through the platforms, and ended up crashing into the station's tavern, leaving it a crumpled ruin. The force of it had thrown the passengers in all directions, and Olaf started to frown. He walked out from the crowd, followed by his three companions, and started to inspect the dead more closely. Great gashes and cuts, made from blades and not shattered glass, littered the bodies. The corpses appeared dead before the impact, and Olaf looked up at the carriages, seeing the red and black of the Vakringuardian kingdoms. He sighed as he spotted Trystem's old sigil, and shook his head.

He turned to the others and pointed. "At least we know what the Eldar got out of the bargain with Tiberius," he said.

Huldain spat, as if a bad taste had found his mouth, and then rubbed his face. "This Eldar really wants Alturine to think the northern kingdoms are attacking."

Olaf nodded. "It would make both states weaker, and therefore easier to invade."

Huldain sighed. "Where did this train come from?"

Alun looked over at the platform number and cringed – platform seven. "This came from Pasenholme," he said.

Huldain's frown deepened. "First Stonehill and now Pasenholme. It is heading west, and if it keeps going, Altona will be next."

Olaf closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He was running out of time.

He opened his eyes and looked up at the others. "These people cannot see this. Clearly the Eldar wanted Alturine to see these corpses and conclude that the Vakringuardian Kingdoms are attacking. We must destroy this false evidence."

Alun turned to look at the massive train in the middle of the platform. How could they destroy a whole train?

Olaf turned to Marius, and said, "Marius, run towards the crowd and tell them to get back. Tell them this train is about to explode; hopefully they will listen."

Marius did as he was told, and ran full speed at the crowd, waving his hands in desperation, crying out, "Get back, get back; it’s about to blow!"

Olaf watched him go, and as enough people were pushed back, he turned to the train and muttered under his breath. His blue tattoos pulsed brightly, and Huldain stood behind him, blocking him from the crowd's view. A small spark flared in the contorted metal work, and as Olaf's chanting became stronger, the spark formed into a raging fire. He allowed the fire to grow into an uncontrollable blaze before he released his influence. Marius ran back to his friends, and watched the Eldar's work become undone.

Alturine would mistake it for an accident. Olaf felt a little relief flow into him, and a little hope boosted his spirits. They had been just in time to save the Alturine Empire from waging an all-out war with the Vakringuardian Kingdoms.

Huldain watched the magical fire burn, melting away the swords and armour of the false Vakringuardian raiders. He watched as the locomotive was reduced to a molten puddle, and smiled. This was a victory; they had stopped a war before it had started, and foiled the Eldar's plans. Now all they needed to do was catch Myrian, put him back in prison, and then track down and destroy the last Eldar.

Olaf turned away from the fire first, confident that it had done its work. He sniffed the air, and his smile grew – Myrian was here. The others followed him out of the station and into the streets, marvelling at the architecture of Alturine. Even Alun who had lived here for a portion of his life still revelled in the grandeur and beauty of the Empire's capital city. The white city walls and red cobblestones gave the city an exotic vibe. The salty air was feathered with the sweet smell of wine and flowers, and people walked around in strange frilly clothes, others waring a powdered substance upon their faces.

Olaf and Huldain were still given odd looks, but they were less than in Cornerstone. Olaf continued to follow Myrian's scent which led him through twisting streets and occasional back alleys.

The Alturine Capitol was built on an incline; the poorer districts sat at the bottom closer to the walls, while the richer homes and shops stood higher up. The Church was at the uppermost point of the incline. Its golden roof shone out like a beacon across the farmlands and Emerin Sea; richness seemed to exude from it at every angle.

Olaf climbed higher and higher, traipsing through the richer districts after Myrian's scent. It seemed stale, as if a sweaty body had settled down and not bothered to wash. The scent led the companions past the vast church, and they looked up, past the dark iron gates. It seemed to twinkle in the sun, and Marius had passed contemplation at how men could build so high.

The golden towers and white walls reached up into the hot southern sky. Olaf continued on, tracking his brother past the gate and down small, cultured alleyways until they reached a small, multi-storied inn. The four of them peered up at the iron railed balconies and Alun found it hard to imagine a villain such as Myrian hiding out in such a spot.

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Olaf sighed, and looked back at his companions. "He is in here," he said. "He is above us, and waiting. Be on your guard and prepare for whatever happens. Huldain and myself will enter first; follow in after us with your weapons drawn."

Olaf drew his sword, and Huldain followed him, axe at the ready. Marius drew Nurlin's blade from his back, and held it in both hands. Alun un-holstered his pistol, and held it before him, shaking behind his brother. They entered into the vacant lobby, and looked around for traps. Olaf reached out with his mind, and searched for his brother. Upon finding him, he bounded up the stairs with Huldain in tow.

Olaf kicked down the door, and held his sword before him, expecting arrows and violence. Only instead of Myrian, an empty glass and a half bottle of wine sat on the table.

Olaf sheathed his blade and looked around. He frowned, and turned to Huldain who was sniffing the air experimentally. They could both sense their brother's presence, but it was trapped, as if confined to a bottle. Olaf knelt on the floor, and threw a soul searching stare across the room. A glint of red caught his eye, and he zoned in on it as a falcon zones in on a field mouse. Olaf straightened up and strode over to the crimson dot; it sat beneath the chair as if hiding.

Olaf threw the chair across the room and peered down. He sniffed experimentally, and cursed: it was a drop of blood. Olaf scrubbed out the blood from the floor, and turned again to Huldain and the other two.

He indicated to the clean floor where the droplet had been, and said, "He has tricked us. He has used a blood sigil to mask his presence, and made off into the city. I do not know where he is."

Huldain felt alarm flood into him. Myrian was another step ahead of them. Their victory from a few hours before seemed to fade now in the failure of their hunt. Olaf cursed and kicked the table, sending the wine and glass smashing across the room. Alun felt a bite of relief from Myrian's absence, but immediately replaced it with the foreboding of their missing sport. Marius simply sheathed his sword, and looked out of the open window with a confused frown.

He pointed out at the city, and Alun looked up from the smashed wine bottle and out to where Marius was pointing. A strange thing was happening: the clouds swirled above a figure standing upon the terracotta roof of a small sculptor's shop. The figure had in its hands a strange device that glowed with yellow light. This light seemed to pulse, gradually growing brighter. Olaf glanced up at the scene, and cried out in alarm, causing Huldain to spin around and groan at the figure of Myrian, pointing his reformed bow up at the church behind them. Olaf instantly recovered from his shock. and dived out of the window, followed by Marius who had both of his blades at the ready. They landed on a terracotta roof across the street outside, and sprinted over the tiles.

The wind grew increasingly more hostile as Myrian continued to gather power. Olaf's feet pounded against the rooves of the Capitol, his glistening blade crackling with power. His eyes glowed blue, and his tattoos shimmered as he ran.

Huldain had started after them, dragging Alun behind him. Huldain's single eye blazed brightly in the growing storm, and yellow forks of lightning struck around the companions; Huldain had to defend with his axe as Olaf continued on. Marius ducked and weaved. His swords were trailing behind him, touching lightly upon the tiles, striking up red dust which was whisked away by the violent wind.

Olaf and Marius bounded across the rooves, closing in on Myrian. Huldain had been left behind, battling against the bolts of yellow lightening that struck down upon him. Alun cowered behind Huldain and tried to stay away from his whirling axe. Finally, Olaf reached the sculptor's roof, and entered the spinning vortex that was the centre of the storm. Marius tried to follow, but was almost thrown off from the sheer power of the hurricane that whirled around him. He stabbed his blades into the roof, anchoring himself against the storm, and looked up to see Olaf jump at his brother, just as a blinding light lit up the sky, throwing back any shadows, and blinding all who beheld the spectacle.

A beam of yellow light flew high over the Capitol, then fell down and gouged a huge crater in the alleyways beside the church, destroying generations of artwork. Alun peered out from behind Huldain, worried at what might have happened, and gasped at the deep, black smoking scar that now plagued the city's features. Myrian had missed, but still had caused massive amounts of destruction upon Alturine.

Olaf tackled his brother from the roof, and landed upon a stack of oil painted canvas, cushioning them from the hard cobblestones. Myrian recovered quickly; rolling away from his brother, he skipped onto his feet, and sprinted down the alleyway, gun in hand. Olaf got up and chased after him. Rain had begun to fall around them now, and the moisture steamed against Olaf's tattooed skin, the glowing blue radiated from him and lit up the walls around the alley. His eyes glowed dangerously.

Myrian cleared the alleyway, and burst out into a crowded street to the shock of bystanders. His brother was charging down the cobblestones behind him, and he turned to watch the growing blue glow. He then took aim and fired; a shot of yellow energy burst from his weapon and took away part of a small pot maker's shop, causing rubble to cascade down upon Olaf, who dived back and watched as brick after brick fell, separating him from his brother. Myrian continued on at a run, sprinting down through the city and out into the direction of the port that led to the Emerin Sea. Marius had got off from the sculptor's roof, and ran after Olaf eventually finding him leant against the alleyway wall beside a mountain of rubble waiting.

He frowned at his teacher, and jumped as Huldain landed beside them with Alun over his shoulder. It took Huldain a single, one handed swing of his axe to obliterate the rubble, and Olaf was off again. His path now cleared, he smelled his brother better than ever; the blood sigil must have been rubbed off in their tumble from the roof.

Four pairs of feet slammed against the cobblestones in pursuit of Myrian. Olaf felt the salty air become more prominent as Myrian's presence grew stronger. The inclination of the city sped them along, as passers-by stopped and stared at the unusual spectacle of two glowing men wielding large glowing weapons sprinting past them, with another two strangely dressed men in tow.

The great white walls of the city came closer as Myrian's scent grew stronger, and Olaf was starting to realize his brother's intention. The Emerin port came into view along a large bustling street, and Olaf could see Myrian's dark figure turn into one of the mooring docks. He increased his pace, and felt his feet burn as they slapped against the hard street. He had left Huldain and the other two behind as he raced on, flying through the port's gates and onto the wooden dock to see a large ship pulling out and getting ready to set sail. Olaf gauged the distance from his dock, and wondered if he could jump it.

He began to run again, his stinging feet now hammering down against the wooden slats of the dock. Huldain, Marius, and Alun skidded in behind him, and watched as Olaf ran. Myrian leant out on the rigging of the ship and pointed towards Olaf, who was desperately sprinting with his sword in hand, and his coat tails streaming behind him. Another burst of yellow light cut his run short, putting a sizable hole in the jetty, and causing Olaf to trip and fall into the sea.

Huldain cursed, and jumped forward to haul his brother out of the swirling currents. Olaf came up soaked and fuming; the combination caused steam to radiate from him and scatter all sailors in the area. Marius looked out at the disappearing ship, and sheathed his blades bitterly.

He looked up at his seething teacher and cocked an eyebrow. "Now what?" He said.