The predawn found Ulric crouched with his hands over the low flame of their dying campfire, letting its heat combat a bitter chill. Even for him, this morning was brutally cold.
"It is Winter's Last Gasp, Ulric. A brief spell of fierce cold from the White Waste. For most, it is a reason for joy, as when this cold passes every day from then on will tend towards warmer. My people would be readying a feast to mark the onset of spring if times were better." Taipan told him while she huddled under her blanket.
A good thing that the pair of them had been sharing a bedroll or they'd have caught no sleep for shivering beneath the furs. The leather of their travel shelter was brittle under the layer of frost upon it. Coals from their fire they had to lay on the bare ground inside, to heat the material enough to be able to take the shelter down without cracking the embrittled hide.
They ate lightly, a hearty soup, and some travel crackers. It wouldn't do to go in over full, not today. If all went to plan, they would be making their way from Trachn'ir before the body of the man organizing the slave cartel that had attacked them finished cooling. Ulric felt antsy. How many bodyguards would they have to cut through?
His Shadow, as was usual, showed no nerves whatsoever. Untouchable was his Taipan. It gave him some amount of comfort, knowing that whatever they faced the Iriel'en woman was prepared to have it gutted and quartered in short order. He made a silent prayer of thanks to Bald'rt that the Elf King's twisty sense of justice had attached his most troublesome daughter to Ulric's side.
Just as the Twins began to crest the horizon, gracing the lands again with their brilliant dance, Ulric finished packing away their shelter and Taipan covered the coals of their fire with snow and then soil.
To his sense of the flows of mana Taipan had lost that intense feeling of draw, which meant that her reserves were at maximum capacity, and they would both enter this upcoming challenge full meet.
They were both dressed for action. His Shadow had her hair covered and her features masked, which was not at all remarkable for this season, especially not with the sharp cold of this particular day. Ulric wore the thicker of his travel robes, the ones that were intended to be worn beneath his armor; that he would don inside the city itself.
It was not at all uncommon to see people wearing protective gear within the city walls, other than the municipal guard force. Varda was a dangerous place and people that didn't take precaution frequently did not long survive their lack of awareness. The same was true of armaments, Ulric had seen everything from halberds to morning stars carried openly. Of course, there was the Aes'r tradition of the belt knife just as had been typical of all the Orlethrem that he'd seen, but that barely even registered to him anymore, other than to take note of an identifying feature. The knives they wore were as good as fingerprints for the Elves. The tradition wasn't as stringently held by the Otherkin that roamed the cobbled streets or patroned the various common rooms, many preferred a plain hilted purely functional tool, but just about everybody carried.
Ulric's decision not to enter armored was almost purely motivated by the desire to reinforce their cover story: he was a traveling merchant, not a warrior. While he wouldn't stand out for being outfitted as such, it would cause guards to take additional notice of him, even if just a little and he wanted to maintain such anonymity as was possible. It was worrisome that these cartel thugs had clearly been able to identify the pair of them with descriptions gleaned from the couple's brief layover in Seinajok. Hopefully ridding themselves of their adversary here would nip that in the bud.
Their entry also had another effect: to gauge the extent of the Trade Minister's sway over Trachn'ir. Taipan was veritably shouting her heritage between the bow, the hip quiver belted in the Iriel'en manner, and her style of dress. Ulric had made no pains to cover his lightning scars, had, in fact, rolled his sleeve up to let the scars show on his arm. From right arm to shoulder down his back to his left leg ran the branded mark of Ceraun, the maybe elemental god that may or may not have marked him between two worlds. Between his Shadow and his own appearance, they had left little doubt as to meeting the description of the supposed "Prespang Agents" that had been blamed for the arson and the killings.
When Ulric had questioned the wisdom of that course, his lovely, if arch, wife calmly inquired if he would prefer to find out that their enemy owned the city guard at the gates where they could easily evade capture or from deep within the city's walls. It was a sound point, and Ulric had to concede it. He really did not have a natural feel for all this spy shit. He was an engineer, a problem solver with nifty tools, not a damned intelligence specialist. Well, bitching about it wasn't going to make him any less bad at it, he'd just have to pay attention and learn from Taipan as quickly as he could.
It turned out that the guards at the gates gave not a single damn for their appearance. They were recognized from their previous entry and waved in without a second glance. A brief inconspicuous bit of loitering did not reveal any pass of message or runners sent either, which pretty well indicated that they were in the clear. Taipan indicated that this made for excellent news.
"This tells us that someone or multiple someones within Trachn'ir have placed themselves against our enemy, Ulric, limiting his ability to influence the city." She explained as they crossed another alley, bypassing several larger avenues to keep a lower profile, "Celestin have no greater love for slavers than the rest of the Orlethrem and it is likely that the Houses within the city are employing their resources to investigate. This will tie up his attention, leaving us able to move more freely. I will resume my disguise as a Narii' and you should equip your armor. Make sure your cloak keeps you covered though, the quality of the work will draw eyes, Uncle Uldin has done his craft too well."
Finding a private alcove between buildings wasn't so hard and a bare few minutes was all it took to assume their readiness. Taipan's crimson wig was tied up in a stylish bun that left her looking like an Elven office lady, except for the bow and its quiver. She had poisoned her arrows this morning, their razored heads black with the stuff. Ograns, she assured him, were every bit as susceptible to [Striped Bark Snake] venom as anyone else.
"Not all are blessed by the Eternal Gaze to be so disgustingly resistant, Ulric." She told him with some chagrin.
As well she might, she'd poisoned him with that very substance on their first meeting, a slight scratch which had produced envenomation that had inflicted a somewhat rapid and incredibly uncomfortable illness, until her brother forced her to provide the antidote. She'd expected the stuff to kill him pretty outright.
Ulric gave his vambrace a quick check of straps and thumbed his cuirass to adjust the way it lay against his chest one last time. The class skill that bled mysterious familiarity with those adjustments still creeped him out properly, but he was glad of it now. Leaving their alcove behind, they traversed the streets well-traveled this week past and made their way towards the peninsula that marked the domain of the movers and shakers within Trachn'ir. As they passed the charred rubble of House Wicker they noted that the blood had been removed but that none had attempted to salvage anything of the wreck. It would seem that House Wicker had bigger problems with which to contend.
Taipan looked at him approvingly and gave him a thumbs up, the borrowed gesture bringing a grin to his face. Her pace quickened and he lengthened his stride to match.
"We will be gone this day from this city, Ulric. And when we leave, we will do so with none left at our backs to raise weapons. Come, I have an idea about how we will carry out this beast's slaying." She said, eagerness dripping from her tone.
*************Trachn'ir Ministry of Trade*************
The Ogran's fists cracked as he read through this latest missive. He tossed it upon a small pile of other, similar documents. No fewer than half a dozen official requests of inquiry regarding the Night before last's carnage and the subsequent revelations. Just this morning his agents passed him word that three members of House Wicker had admitted under question to the enslavement of their kin and had been executed summarily with their signatures upon their confessions. House Wicker was, even now, in the process of being dissolved and its assets divided. The owners of the other three ships that had been burned with the rest were likewise being questioned and Trade Minister Gedrun had no illusions as to whether or not they would crack. They were Otherkin and the Celestin would be even less gentle with these than they had been with their own people.
His world was coming apart.
There was little else to do but flee the city. He still had some contacts, he still had a most satisfactory amount of liquidity to carry with him, and could reestablish himself within Prespang in short order, though not for the long term. The defeat here would mean that his ties with Sav'ris Morion were gone, that devious Knife Ears would get word quickly and would bend no small amount of influence to see the loose end of this operation tied up neatly. Gedrun's life was forfeit. He would have to leave the continent, risk the Ocean of Storms crossing, and reach Mismyr the foreign empire about which he knew next to nothing other than deckhand rumor.
The office, tableless, felt like a tomb and still stank of the substances used to pull his former assistant's blood from the timbers. Looking around with narrowed eyes, the Ogran felt empty rage suffusing his flesh, sending his blood boiling through his veins.
A note slid under his door and he strode to open it and perhaps comfort himself with a final slaughter before he was forced to run like a startled [Crowned Elk] bull. Alas, quick-footed indeed was this newest assistant. The stamp of the Leor female's padded feet had already faded and he saw the barest tuft of her furred tail as she pelted around the corner of the distant hallway. He very much doubted that she'd be seen again.
A rumbling growl accompanied his bending over to retrieve what turned out to be two messages. One of fine material, the other rough parchment. Opening of the folded vellum first, he was startled to see the encrypted words of Sav'ris Morion himself. The Ogran had long since memorized the cipher for this particular type of code and translated it quickly.
{Blight Triad deployed. Last chance. Arrival fortnight. Do not engage. Do not engage. Dangerous. Valin is Lord of Dead Woods -Personal Vendetta / Aes'r Iriel'en is Eldest of Blood Moon.}
A laugh like falling stones filled the room. So. He'd brought in some of his best fixers had he? It told the Ogran much about his value to the operation and about how determined House Morion was to retain its hold on their Lowlands Forest trade routes. It also told him that he'd been undone by supreme ill fortune. He'd never heard of the human before but the Dead Woods were known to be an untouchable domain of monsters, guarded by a supreme monster. If one had come that could kill the beast and claim that place then it was little wonder his men had been destroyed. And, alongside that unknown was one about whom he did know quite a bit. The Ogran had studied well the rumors surrounding Trachn'ir's reclusive Southern neighbors, if only to know that he avoided drawing their attention. The daughter of that blood soaked Elf Lord was nearly as bad her father, if quieter. She had a reputation for slaughtering agents of Prespang that reached back nearly forty years, before he'd even been whelped. She was rumored to have been groomed to take her Mother's role as their premier murderess.
He had to leave. Geyrt Iriel had a reputation for being a vengeful ghost; his guards and these walls would be no barrier. Fucking Brownies. Who teaches their children assassination techniques from the time they matriculate?
Discarding the vellum to flutter to the floor he read the second, the rough parchment's crude scrawl taking him a moment to decipher, more difficult than the coded message for the quality of the handwriting.
Brownie passed through Southgate, Sunsrise, Barbarian in tow. Free passage.
Free passage meant that his gambit in announcing the pair as Prespang saboteurs had failed, likely countermanded by those on the Trachn'ir Council who opposed him and who he had crossed on his fast rise to power. They were in the city, he had hoped that they were fleeing. That they had reentered the city meant that they would come for him, he wasn't so outraged that he had lost his wits. The raid on the docks, the elimination of his catch teams, the capture of his orders, and the destruction of his subverted Celestin House, meant that these enemies had his teeth in a sack, or would soon. He had to hurry.
The parchment joined its finer cousin on the floor as the Ogran began to load a traveling scrip with his emergency fund and this joined the pack he referred to as his "life raft" meant to get him to safe harbors. His office he ransacked, as he made final preparation to leave. So preoccupied was the former Trade Minister that his less than stellar hearing did not detect the thump of an arrow into the top of the frame of his window.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
*****************Trachn'ir City Wall, River Tower**************
Ulric glanced down at the rooftops below and the stone streets even farther below that and had to restrain a slight vertigo.
They were a solid fifty meters up, standing in a guard tower. The guard whose duty it was to watch the river into which this closed off part of the city jutted, was unconscious on the floor beside them. He would be just fine after a nap and maybe something for the headache.
Taipan's arrow, one with, instead of a forked nock, a wooden loop had sailed true, carrying with it a length of rope which they had pulled tight as soon as the bolt struck true, anchoring into the wood of the Trade Ministry building, above the window that they had learned a scant twenty minutes ago was the personal office of the Trade Minister himself.
Ulric looked at the slim rope with some amount of reservation before he shook himself. He had been planning to use a far inferior rope, albeit one he'd made himself, to descend the Plateau, compared to that this was absolutely nothing at all. Just a nice, fun little improvised zip line into a small room that contained what Taipan described as a very likely enraged creature about thirty kilos heavier than him and about a half meter or so taller. They then had to kill that creature and depart the city before the authorities could apprehend them. Even if the whole truth came out, Taipan assured him that what they were doing was, in the strictest sense, legal self-defense and prosecution of Citizen's Justice, the Orlethrem legal code that allowed its citizens to act to stop the actions of anyone committing a crime of violence against another, they would be tied up for days, possibly weeks. Too long. So they had to cream this Ogran, quickly and make like a tree.
No problem.
His Shadow led the charge, her bow held over top of the rope and she kicked off, sliding with impressive velocity. Refusing to be far behind her he did the same with his sword sheathe, his hands locked tightly on the sheath's strap to hold himself and keep the damned blade inside so it didn't cut the rope.
His stomach launched into his throat as the bitter air rushed by, gravity slaving him to this insanity. Taipan, with her impossible grace, released her bow and pulled it to her chest moments before she reached the window, forming a tight ball of Elven fury and passed cleanly through the window, as if shot by a cannon.
Ulric, just a few moments behind her, didn't even attempt that maneuver. He grunted as his legs slammed to the window frame, arresting him. He pushed back with his feet and swung forward, and had to fight a brief panic as he released his grip on the sword sheath, his other hand firmly gripping the hilt. He sailed into the room, freeing his blade from its sheath, and had to roll immediately as a whistling blur attempted to take off his head.
Diving forwards, Ulric heard a crunch as whatever had been swung at him took a solid bite out of the hardwood of the portal he'd come through. He got himself turned and readied in a moment, and took in the staggering physical presence in front of him.
The Ogran was a monster. Easily two and a half meters tall, fine coat and pants doing little to hide the rippling frame beneath them. Standing proud from under the creature's collarbone was an arrow, his Shadow had gone to work immediately.
Taipan was releasing again when the Ogran threw its weapon, a piece of what might have been a large desk or something, at her with incredible velocity. The agile woman abandoned her shot and ducked, then had to roll to the side as a second piece of debris nearly exploded into splinters where she'd been a moment before.
Ulric waded in, sent his sword in a whistling cut that the creature evaded with far more agility for a being of its obvious strength than it had any right to. He was pulling his weapon back to ready when its booted foot lashed out towards his belly. Ulric backstepped but the reach of the creature was unexpected and its toe managed to catch his abdomen, sending him crashing to the floor to slide to the wall with a heinous impact. He struggled to catch his wind, the monster had barely grazed him and had sent him flying. His armor had probably saved him from broken bones.
Taipan's grim expression hardened and she set her arrow again to launch into the creature's head. It blocked with its arm and shoulder and the powerful bow pinned the forearm to its own shoulder. Roaring gutterally, the Ogran tore its arm free and advanced on Ulric's partner with fury.
As Ulric levered himself up, the creature kicked a piece of broken furniture at him and he had to dodge again or be impaled by a table leg that buried itself into the wall behind him.
Taipan's shadow came to life and four solid blades stabbed into the creature before slashing in a circular arc. The creature never slowed and punched out missing as his Elven partner rolled again and drew another arrow. She never got a chance to fire as the Ogran whipped free its belt and slapped the bow from her hands with incredible force.
She drew her knife, even as another whiplash came at her head and she launched herself into a furious set of evasions to prevent being torn open by the belt that cracked like a bull whip.
Ulric finally got his breath back and pulled on his core, feeling the magic rage inside him.
[Surge]
Holding the skill only for a short moment, Ulric accelerated at the beast's flank sword cutting an arc down towards its spine. He remembered well the debilitating effects of keeping this empowering skill too long and couldn't afford to be disabled.
Trade Minister Ogran snarled and slapped its belt against the incoming blade, knocking it down before being stunned to find the weapon cut a slice out of the floor before coming back to ready in the Human's hands.
A flash at its hip blossomed into pain and it saw the Knife Ears stab deeply, again, this time in the side, the metal blade passing through its toughened hide with difficulty. It swiped its hand, again, and the Elf evaded, again.
Ulric came on again, this time he was bringing the thunder. Uldin had said that his artistry would let the metal of this blade hold mana and Ulric put it to the test, sending Ceraun into the weapon, channeling his energy as he made to strike.
[Voltaic Riot]
He swung again, arcs of lightning dancing up the edge of the sword, and the beast dodged back, trying again to block his blow with its belt. It wasn't good enough, an arc from his stroke leapt out and slashed, severing the belt, before it tore a jagged line through the Ogran's hide, revealing scorched skin and a wicked wound to the muscle beneath, running down the creature's now exposed ribs.
Stepping in, he reversed the cut and the Ogran roared as it came forward to steal the power from his strike by punching out to his chest. Lightning coursed up the creatures attacking arm and Xef'tocht carved deeply, almost cutting through the length of that arm before the blow hit him and he felt his armor soak a vicious impact. The Ogran flew away from him, no, wait, he was the one flying-
Ulric hit the wall flat on his back and this time saw stars as he sprawled vertically before falling to the floor in a heap.
Taipan saw the monster tank her Honor's lightning and counter, and set herself to bleed the creature dry even as its arm fell dead at its side, the Ceraun, and the blade having rendered the limb useless.
She flashed in a low forward roll using the bulk of its own great shoulders as a blindspot and rose in an uppercut with her dagger in a hammer grip, dragging a tear from the creature's calf to its clavicle. A sidestep took her around the beast, and she slashed an "X" cut as she did, carving the creature's thigh even as it bellowed and tried to kick her. She'd seen the power of those blows and would not allow it to touch her.
Ulric groaned and shook the cobwebs from his mind. He heard the fight and had to concentrate to get his vision to stop spinning. Looking up he saw his Shadow in what he would have described as a dance, her twirls, steps, and hops moving her forwards and away from her enemy as her dagger drew hatched lines across its flesh. The Ogran never seemed to notice, its fury consuming it as it attacked with blows that would have crushed Taipan's bones if they landed. They did not.
After receiving another dozen cuts and a making dozen more failed attempts to obliterate its Aes'r foe, the Ogran's composure cracked and it roared in a furious advance. A reaching hand tried to grab her and her blade whipped across, removing two of the four fingers before she, somehow, stepped through its lurching legs, cutting a line through its inner thigh as she did. Now behind the creature, she jumped straight up in a spin and drove her knife into its neck before planting her feet on its shoulder and leaping to the ceiling, inverting herself to launch back down, kicking off the knife hilt to drive the blade to its guard as she hurtled away from her target, turning in the air to land upon her feet. An aerial ballet, utterly inhuman for its grace.
The staggered Ogran gurgled, blood coming up from its mouth as it tried to understand what had happened to it. The sheer virility of the creature was incredible. It should be dead. Ulric had nearly split its arm, had cut a deep wound through its side. Taipan had poisoned it, had carved bloody ribbons like some kind of fucked up prom entrance, and had driven her knife through its neck and still, it came on.
Focusing on his now unarmed Shadow it ignored Ulric to focus on the greater threat, taking a halting and then a more determined stride to try to bury her.
Ulric forced himself up to his feet and gripped Xef'tocht's hilt until his forearms burned.
[Surge]
Ceraun enhanced strength threw Ulric forward and he closed before the Ogran could turn, burying the point between its shoulder blades before driving the long sword all the way to its guard. Reaching up, Ulric grabbed the creature's hair, and pulled down, using his sword handle to leverage and his temporarily improved might to tilt the monster back, desperately fighting against its monstrous power.
Taipan had seen her opportunity and swiftly dove to her bow, raising it as she smoothly drew an arrow and Ulric saw from behind the bulk her core's pulse. The arrow shimmered blue then wrapped in her animate shadow, Akashic skills combining their potency before she released and the bolt blew the Ogran's skull apart on its path through the ceiling above.
Ulric threw himself from beneath the Ogran's mass and let his skill fade, its lingering effects far more muted for the brevity. His chest hurt like fire with every breath, but not with such sharpness as to limit his mobility. Bruised ribs and sternum, nothing broken. He propped himself up on the window sill, and held Xef'tocht in his hands almost limp at his sides, gulping air as a man in the desert does water. That did not do his ribs any good, but the pain meant he was alive so he'd just have to accept it.
Taipan retrieved her knife from her foe and cleaned it on a rather small scrap of unsoaked fabric from its shredded clothes.
Looking at his Shadow, Ulric broke the silence, the memory of her impossibly agile attack fresh in his mind.
"So. Taipan. Can't help but notice that you appear to have been sandbagging in our sparring." He told her, mirroring her previous accusation.
She'd never done half the wild horseshit he'd just seen. Especially not that thing with jumping off the ceiling, holy fuck.
The Iriel'en woman wiped the perspiration from her brow and sheathed her blade as a grin spread wide across her beautiful features. The intensity of her almond eyes was still there, as she rode the high of combat.
"Our spars are to train your abilities, Ulric, not to demonstrate things that a Human cannot do. I would not look down on you for not being Aes'r, that person is, fortunately, well beyond gone." She said, humor coloring her lilting voice.
He smiled and shook his head at her, further impressed.
*PING*
Ulric jerked, and stilled, the by now mental sound of his connection to the Akashic Record of this world toning its change in his soul.
Taipan's head tilted and he realized that her wig and scarf had come off at some point in all the craziness. Her bleached skin contrasted wildly with her shimmering black hair.
He answered her wordless question by waving a hand abstractly before saying resignedly, "Spooky Status Shit, Lady Wife."
"Ah. Yes, it would not be uncommon to experience changes from such a contest." Taipan said sagely.
She looked to the corpse and began to scan about the room until she spotted her lost articles of clothing, continuing as she fixed her attire, "I confess I was not expecting our enemy to be so mighty. I had heard that Ograns could be ferocious opponents but here, inside this small space he was not a being to trifle with. Are you badly injured, Glade Chief?"
Standing up straight, Ulric ignored the burning in his ribs. Endorphins were bringing blessed numbness and he knew they were on the clock here. He didn't know why nobody had come to investigate yet but he wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth.
"No, Taipan, I'm alright. I owe your Uncle a drink though, his armor probably just kept my chest from getting caved in." Ulric admitted seriously.
"Good. One day you will learn to stop getting hit." Observed the Aes'r woman drily.
Ulric couldn't keep the sardonic grin off of his face at that. Sure thing, lady, he told himself, Just as soon as I can jump off the walls and ceiling like some kind of dagger kangaroo.
His Shadow had gone to rifle through the belongings of her victim and found a thin, if sturdy, leather travel case, like something you would use to transport important documents. She came up from her investigation with a small purse, wax-wrapped papers, and a carved seal that he was informed was a travel pass between Orlethrem and Prespang, essentially a voucher for free movement between the nations. They were, Taipan exclaimed with excitement, exceedingly rare and prized by merchants. In addition to getting one across borders, they exempted you from duties or taxes.
When Taipan dumped the purse into her hand, Ulric whistled softly. Three orichalcum coins, stamped with the likeness of a hand, their iridescent silver hue representing an absolutely astonishing wealth. Three Tun Servants would buy a man an estate. So. This guy here was about to go on the lamb.
"We gotta get out of here Taipan, stash that shit, and let's vamoose." Ulric advised, shouldering the Ogran's go bag.
"Yes. We have accomplished our objectives here, and with bonus. It is long since time for us to resume our journey." Confirmed his Shadow, doing the same with the scrip.
Distantly, Ulric was fairly certain he heard shouting and the thud of footsteps.
This next part of their plan had not sounded like much fun at all. Taipan insisted that they climb back across the rope to the tower, and then go over the side wall, skipping the city gates and crossing the frozen river to make their way along the established trade route. Outside the view of the city they would essentially vanish into the wilds of Celestin.
When his agile partner simply pulled herself up and stood on the rope, before running across it like a damned sidewalk, Ulric had a feeling that he needed to level up his game. His ribs were pure misery as he went hand over hand all the way back up to the tower. Yells behind him announced that the body had been discovered but no pursuit was incoming. According to Taipan, it was exceedingly likely that those guards had not been there to capture the two of them but to execute an arrest warrant, judging by their late quarry's travel preparations.
The Twins had not reached mid-morning when the pair of them slid to the foot of the wall, boots crunching on the ice of the river outside Trachn'ir.
They left the city behind, Ulric studiously ignoring his bruises while his Shadow regaled him with tails of some of her mother's exploits. He had to admit, as she begrudgingly gave Vedyr Iriel credit for being much stronger than herself, that his Shadow had come by her gifts honestly. With a dad like Bald'rt and a mom like Vedyr, she was blessed by the gods of this world as surely as he had been. And, after what he'd seen back there, Ulric solemnly resolved to himself to never, ever, provoke her to murder ever again.
************Former Trade Minister Gedrun’s Office************
Trachn’ir guardsmen, led by a delegation of the city council had entered the building too late to see a pair descend over the side of the wall. All the sign they had of who might have enacted this vigilante justice was the savaged body of the former Trade Minister amidst the wreckage of his office. Blood still ran warm to join the growing pool upon the floor.
A dark day, thought the Celestin noble who had made herself instrumental to corralling Gedrun’s cronies and sweeping the city for any remaining tools to which he might have had access. It had not taken long to determine the truth of the outrageous blood message and much was explained, though not all by the presence of a pair Iriel’en arrows buried above the window frame along with a short segment of sturdy rope as was favored by their Southern cousins. Evidence mounted that their Trade Minister had been more than simply involved in a scheme to capture and sell Aes’r lives to flesh pits across Prespang, no doubt through the slavers markets in Prosper, that enemy of old, who seemed determined to return to cause the Orlethrem ill yet again.
Amidst the ruin, there were several merely incriminating documents, ciphered into secrecy. Perhaps some of the more practiced arcanists of Celestin could break the code, there were a few who were known to have deep knowledge in that field. That did nothing for the documents that had been rendered into blood-sodden trash, courtesy of their recently departed Councilor.
Speaking of that person, he appeared to have been somewhat deeply lacerated by well over a score of cuts, had been stabbed through the chest and neck, and, of course, his head was mostly destroyed. The razor precision of the cuts had all the hallmarks of Iriel’en, they had clearly been located where important tendons and arterial vessels might be parted, and only the incredible durability of Ogran flesh had prevented its death by a half dozen of these slices. Other wounds were most definitely not of Iriel’en tendency being made by a large slashing weapon that had burned deep gouges through flesh.
Shaking her head, the new Trade Minister lamented that her peers had been so busy with their maneuvering amongst each other that this Ogran’s actions had gone undetected far too long. Her first item of agenda would propose a sweeping crackdown on the smuggling that had been ignored as too generally profitable for too many of her peers, as was chief amongst her Office’s duties. Next, they would close the gaps in dock security that had allowed critical shipping manifestos to be stolen with relatively small effort. Lastly, she would see to raising the matter of notifying their Iriel’en cousins of the brave actions of one of their kin, whose name was still unknown, and declare an amnesty for their criminal, but perhaps necessarily so, acts.
More minor mysteries remained to be solved but were not part of her now full schedule, thankfully. Eight bodies had been found in an alley dead of no reason that any could determine, as if their hearts had all simultaneously stopped beating. It screamed of wizardry but no Adept mages were known to be in the city.
The newly appointed Trade Minister shrugged that away, she had problems aplenty to address cleaning up after her predecessor. First things first, she needed this mess cleaned up and then, a table, a nice one.