Category: Monday Fiction

Great lords of the Diet, let us contemplate the marvels of human technology, which many exhort us to embrace in our efforts to rebuild the Jewel Empire. Yet, we must recognize that such technology is but a pale reflection of the grandeur we once achieved before the daemonic scourge befell us. Consider, if you will, the incomparable beauty of our jewel-spun edifices, which stand in stark contrast to the soulless towers of brick and mortar erected by humans. How can one compare our majestic gates, which offer almost instantaneous passage, to their railroads, which lumber slowly across the countryside, spewing smoke and fire? We must not hasten to reorder our society around this technology, for it lacks the divine grace that once permeated our creations. We stand now on the threshold of a momentous event—the emergence of the Crystal Blood. It is she who embodies the hope and promise of the Empire’s restoration. Let us, therefore, place our faith not in the transient works of human hands, but in the enduring power of the Crystal Blood to lead us back to our former glory. In this time of renewal, let us trust in the divine providence that has sustained us through trials and tribulations. It is through our steadfast devotion and faith in the Crystal Blood that we shall see the Jewel Empire rise once more, resplendent and whole. – Sermon from Senior Ecclesiast Okam at the opening of the Diet, eight years after the return of the Crystal Blood

KURT

Kurt looked at the wood arch with a skeptical eye. The day before, Rin and he spent several hours dragging it around the forest under Robar’s direction to find an appropriate spot for it to work. Something about where the tiny streams of natural magic were strongest closest to where the Goddess would grant Grace. That was about the most Kurt understood from Robar’s much longer explanation. Marteen spent the day in bed and was almost back to normal. Physically at least. In any other sense, Marteen was never normal. He probably hadn’t been since the Reclamation War.

Kurt was uneasy. Every other gate was stone or crystal. Wood didn’t seem like it would be strong enough to channel the magic needed to send the group all the way to the capital. Robar said wood arches were common until the permanent arches were put in place around elven and dwarven lands. Selene promised the wood would work, and Kurt trusted her. He still looked askance at the arch. Robar walked over to Kurt leading a docile, grey mare. The dark-haired elf wore the traditional red robes with gold embroidery of a high cleric of the Tradition of the Soul.

“Selene should join us shortly,” Robar said, “She’s tending to the shrine and the cottage before we leave. Where are your companions?” Kurt almost missed the slight hardening of Robar’s tone as he avoided using Marteen’s name. Kurt couldn’t blame Robar a bit. It was hard when the woman you loved was in love with another man.

“They should be here in a few minutes,” Kurt answered, “It took longer for Rin to clean his guns than expected. Apparently, it’s something he needs to do on a regular basis.” Kurt omitted the reason the task took longer was because Marteen stood over Rin’s shoulder and barraged the boy with a stream of questions. Kurt expected Rin to clock Marteen upside the head to shut him up. Instead, Rin patiently explained how each part worked. From the expression on Marteen’s face, Kurt wasn’t sure if the elf was fascinated, repulsed, or both.

“Foul things,” Robar murmured, just softly enough Kurt wasn’t sure if he was supposed to hear the comment or not. In the interest of diplomacy, Kurt chose to ignore Robar’s words. Kurt didn’t like guns, but he was honest enough with himself to know his dislike was more of an old soldier’s natural distrust of new-fangled technologies. Robar’s revulsion was more with the weapons’ origin – and their wielder. It wasn’t an uncommon sentiment in the Empire.

Kurt yawned as he saw Marteen and Rin leading their horses over to the arch. Kurt wasn’t sure where Marteen managed to scrounge up the blue tunic and tan breeches, but at least it made the elf look somewhat respectable. The Purist swords were belted at his waist. Rin was wearing a long brown duster. His blue uniform peaked out from under the heavy coat.

“That’s odd,” Robar said, taking a closer look at the arch. He was intensely studying the archaic runes inscribed into the wood.

“Is something wrong?” Kurt asked. Robar’s face looked puzzled, not alarmed.

“Not exactly,” Robar said, "Selene changed the glyphs for where the gate will open in Lisandra.”

“This won’t open in Eldar’s Court?” Kurt asked.

“No, it’s going to the Arrival Courtyard,” Rin answered. Both Robar and Kurt looked back at the human with questioning looks. “I asked Selene to change it last night after the two of you went to bed.”

“Why?” Robar asked, a hint of suspicion coloring his tone.

“Because that’s where I need to go.”

“The Arrival Courtyard’s a mile south of the palace,” Kurt said, breaking the tension, “Did you need some exercise first?” Rin shook his head and then held out his hand with fingers splayed before snapping it back into a fist. Talk later. Kurt smiled despite himself. With how much Rin had changed over the years, Kurt was glad the boy remembered their old hand signals. Kurt nodded and settled in to wait for Selene.

Marteen and Robar’s mirror sharp intakes of breath signaled Selene’s arrival. Kurt looked back at the cottage to see Selene walking her dappled gelding to the arch. Instead of the green robes of a High Cleric of the Tradition of the Mind, Selene wore the mottled green and brown leather armor she wore when they were chasing Cull to rescue the princess. Selene’s jet-black tresses were pulled back with a leather cord. At her hip was the saber Marteen taught her to use so many years ago. Rin’s eyebrow crooked in surprise, but that was the extent of his reaction.

“I didn’t know you still had those. They still look good on you,” Marteen said, appreciatively. Kurt rolled his eyes at the comment. Kurt was sure Marteen did it without thinking. Selene walked up to the master swordsman and surprised him with a gentle punch to the gut. Kurt coughed out a chuckle. That was something he would’ve expected from Sonya, not Selene.

“Selene, what are you doing?” Robar asked, in shock. “Why are you wearing those?” Selene gave her husband a hard look.

“In case you don’t remember, there’s a chance we will be riding into a battle,” Selene answered coldly, “This is what I wear in battle.”

"Those are not appropriate for your Tradition. You can’t enter Lisandra dressed like that. You’ll cause more problems with the Sacellum.”

“I’m more worried about survival than upsetting the Sacellum,” Selene said.

“It is not your place to engage in combat,” Robar said. Kurt felt some sympathy for the ecclesiast. Robar was trying desperately to help his wife avoid some Sacellum issue, but he was using the wrong arguments. Selene didn’t take up the sword willingly. Selene was forced to learn how to hurt and kill to protect herself and her friends.

“Help me open the gate, and let me deal with the Sacellum,” Selene said in a dangerous, low voice. Robar recognized he went too far and nodded. He walked over to the left side of the arch as Selene moved to the right. Selene started the gate spell with a chanting prayer to the Goddeess of Light. Robar started a similar prayer that mixed harmoniously with Selene’s. It was an oddly soothing song as the pair invoked the Goddess’s Grace. The runes etched into the wood glowed a sapphire blue an instant before the space under the arch burst with a blinding light.

As Kurt blinked away the stray ghosts of light, he saw the copper-colored bricks and ivy-covered walls of Arrival Court under the arch. The familiar scents of Lisandra wafted through the gate. Marteen went through first, followed by Kurt and Rin, then Robar and Selene. Even early in the morning, Lisandra was shining with the sun reflecting off the spires of the old jewel-spun buildings. It was much warmer in the capital than at Selene’s cottage. The streets of Lisandra channeled the cool breezes coming off the bay, which helped with the heat and humidity. Kurt looked over at Rin, but he couldn’t see any emotion on Rin’s face. Kurt wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing.

“Guard, come here please,” beckoned Kurt at one of the constables stationed at Arrival Court. The elf’s eyes went wide as he recognized who was speaking. Kurt was definitely spending too much time in Lisandra if the locals recognized him on sight. Dwarves were supposed to all look alike to the elves.

"What can I do for you, Hero Volker?” the constable asked, bowing as he spoke.

“Please send a runner to the Crystal Palace to let them know Heroes Volker, Madrigal, Onale, and Acciaio have news to discuss with Lady Sonya and Lord Colonel Pallus.” The constable looked confused as he looked over their party, but quickly bowed again and rushed off to comply.

“This is where we separate. I need to report into the Mareian Embassy,” Rin said.

“Rin, we need to go to the Crystal Palace and let them know what is coming,” Kurt said.

“No, you have to go to the Palace,” Rin replied, “I am required to report to the ambassador and senior ranger to let them know why I’m in the Empire.”

“So why not go to the Crystal Palace with us, and then go to your embassy?” Selene asked.

“Because my duty isn’t at the Crystal Palace,” Rin answered, sharply. Kurt silenced Selene with a look before she could respond. He was surprised by Rin’s responses at first, but he understood the logic. Still, Kurt couldn’t let Rin get away from Lisandra without going to the Crystal Palace.

“If you don’t mind, Rin, I’ll accompany you,” Kurt said, “I’ve met with Ambassador Tierra on Lady Sonya’s behalf before. I think it would be a good idea to let the ambassador know about the Purists as well.” Rin just nodded.

“Well, I’m not going to talk to Sonya without Kurt,” Marteen said, “So, I guess I better go with you. Besides, I’ve never been inside the Mariean Embassy.” Marteen turned to Selene and Robar. “You coming with us?”

“As interesting as that sounds, I better go to the Crystal Palace,” Selene answered, coolly. “Someone should show up to talk with Sonya since Kurt sent that runner off. You know how Sonya gets if she’s interrupted for no good reason.” Marteen and Kurt nodded in agreement.

“I hope I see you again Selene,” Rin said, climbing up on his horse, “Thanks again for the hospitality – and the talk.”

“I’m sure we will,” Selene said, before looking over at Kurt a knowing look. The old dwarf nodded before quickly mounted his own pony. He kicked the animal after Rin. Marteen muttered something before mounting his own horse and following Rin and Kurt out of the Arrival Court.

The Republic of Marei’s embassy wasn’t very far from the Arrival Courtyard. Kurt looked through the wrought-iron gate at the graceful marble and brick edifice. He remembered when a much stouter building graced these grounds. Kurt pushed down his resentment at seeing the embassy. Kurt couldn’t understand why the humans felt the need to tear down the remains of the Dwarven Embassy to build that gaudy building.

“What’s wrong Kurt?” Rin asked.

“Sorry, son. Memories seem to be intent on dragging me back to other days,” Kurt answered.

“It’s because you’re getting old,” Marteen said.

“A problem you won’t have if you keep saying things like that,” Kurt snapped as the trio dismounted. They walked up to the single guard standing at the iron gate. The human was in the formal uniform of the Army of the Republic of Marei – deep blue pants with a gold stripe down the seam matched with a heavy jacket of matching blue and gold buttons. A sword and pistol were at the soldier’s waist attached to a shiny black belt with a gold buckle. The soldier looked bored, but Kurt saw his eyes flash over the three of them with practiced movements. Rin walked up to the soldier and saluted. The soldier immediately returned the salute.

“Ranger Acciaio, with a party of two. I need to see the ambassador and the senior ranger immediately,” Rin said. The soldier’s face allowed a momentary look of confusion, before quickly returning to its normal bored look.

“What circuit do you ride, ranger?” the soldier asked. The question was respectful in tone, but Kurt heard the explicit challenge.

“Badlands, Fort Killian,” Rin answered.

“The major’s expecting you,” the soldier said, working a small crank behind him. “I don’t know if the ambassador will be able to see you, but you can ask the major.”

“Thank you, corporal,” Rin said, and started walking to the gate. The corporal cleared his throat and nodded towards Kurt and Marteen. “It’s all right, corporal, I’ll vouch for them.” The corporal’s eyes widened even further. Kurt half-wondered if they were going to come out of the man’s head. If Rin noticed, he showed no sign of it as he continued through the gate.

The trio were met on the front steps of the embassy by a tall human man. The man’s black hair was cut short, but he wore one of those strange beards that traced down their jaws before looping up above their lips as a mustache. Kurt thought it looked silly, but the humans were very proud of their facial hair styles. The man was wearing Republican formal clothes. The slacks and jacket were black with a bright white shirt and a subdued green “necktie.” Instead of the shiny leather shoes most of the diplomats wore, this man wore the same dark brown boots Rin wore.

“Sergeant Acciaio, I presume,” the man said, grinning widely. “Major Agnelli, senior ranger of the embassy and the Empire circuit.” Rin quickly braced at attention and saluted the officer. Major Agnelli casually returned the salute before waving for Rin to relax.

“We received a note in yesterday’s courier packet that you were in the Empire. It mentioned you might show up in Lisandra, but it was a little sparse on the details. I hope you’ve come to enlighten me as to why you came to the Empire without coming to the embassy first.” Kurt was barely able to keep up with the man’s fast-paced Mareian. Marteen looked completely lost. Then again, Marteen was hopeless with languages. He’d barely learned a few dwarven phrases in all the years he and Ela lived with Kurt and Rin on the farm. There was the familiar flash of grief as Kurt remembered Ela. She was such a joy to have on the farm, and such a good friend to him.

“Yes Major, and it’s a matter of grave concern to the Republic,” Rin said, also in Republican before switching to Imperial. “First, let me introduce–” The major waved Rin down again.

“Heroes Volker and Madrigal are well known to the embassy,” Major Agnelli said, in accent-less Imperial, “I can’t wait to hear how the two of you came to be in the company of one of our rangers. Now, if you’ll follow me, we might catch the ambassador before he tries to go talk with the Chancellor once again. I have this odd feeling he needs to hear about why you’re here.”

“Surprisingly, sir, I do,” Rin replied. The major wheeled around and strode into the embassy. The trio followed closely on the major’s heels. Marteen grumbled they were moving too fast for him to get a good look around, but Kurt ignored him. After about five minutes of walking through several hallways, the major ushered them through a plain door.

The office inside was luxuriously appointed with thick rugs and silken wall hangings. It was dominated by a large desk. A half-dozen chairs were arrayed in front of the desk. The major motioned for Kurt and Marteen to sit, but they mirrored Rin who stood at attention next to his chair. A concealed door opened and the Ambassador to the Jeweled Empire for the Republic of Marei, the Honorable Lucas Tierra, walked into the office. The ambassador matched his office. He wore an exquisitely tailored gray suit accentuating the soft handsomeness of a Mareian merchant. His black hair was liberally sprinkled with gray, but there was only the hint of wrinkles around his bright brown eyes.

“Hero Volker, it’s good to see you again, although I am surprised to see you,” Ambassador Tierra said, reaching out to shake Kurt’s hand. Why did these humans need such bizarre greeting customs? Dwarves got by with simple nods without all this need for touching. The ambassador turned to Marteen. “Hero Madrigal, I think we met two years ago at the ball for Princess Illana’s birthday.” Marteen muttered something non-committal. If Kurt remembered correctly, Marteen wasn’t sober for most of that celebration. In fact, that might have been the ball where Sonya finally kicked him out of their room at the Crystal Palace. Finally, the ambassador turned to Rin and his warm face turned stern.

“Ranger Acciaio, perhaps you can explain why you felt it necessary to smuggle yourself into the Jeweled Empire without even the courtesy of reporting to the Senate’s representatives here in the capital?” Tierra asked. Rin didn’t even flinch under the ambassador’s impressive glare.

“Exigencies of the hunt,” Rin answered. “About three weeks ago, I was led by a demon to the scene of a ritual murder in the Badlands. The demon informed me that the perpetrator, a sorcerer named Smythe, fled to the Empire. I tracked the sorcerer to Fools Port, and through contacts there, learned he took passage to Black Cove. I’ve since discovered Smythe joined up with the Purists. The Heroes and I also discovered the Purists have formed a two-thousand strong force armed with Arsenale Granito muskets with clean marks. That force is now marching on Lisandra, with this Smythe in their company.”

“So, the shipment wasn’t lost at sea like we were told,” the major said, in low Republican. “I told you Canelli was lying to us.”

“Senator Canelli will be dealt with at a later time,” the ambassador said. “We must deal with the information these men brought us.” The ambassador turned to Rin. “What you are telling me is the Purists have muskets and are marching on the capital? And this human sorcerer is with them?”

“That would be an accurate summation, sir,” Rin answered.

“Normally, what you just reported would be ridiculous, but I think in light of other information we have, it is terrifyingly credible,” the ambassador said. “Ranger Acciaio, you will come with me to give your report to the Chancellor. He might actually listen to me this time – especially with Heroes Volker and Madrigal along to vouch for your story.”

“If I may, your excellency, Hero Onale is at the Crystal Palace to discuss the matter with the Imperial Regent. Lady Sonya might be able to act on your information if the Chancellor refused to do so.”

“Yes, that makes sense, Hero Volker.” Ambassador Tierra paused as a sudden thought struck him. “How under the Protector’s graces did two Heroes of the Empire manage to get mixed up in a ranger’s hunt?” Kurt was deciding how best to answer the question when Marteen decided to join the conversation with his characteristic bluntness.

“What do you mean?” Marteen asked, “We’ve known Rin since he was a boy. Of course, we were going to join back up with him when he came home.” Rin shot Marteen a murderous look before quickly returning to a studious neutral expression. Kurt didn’t think either the ambassador or the major noticed. They were both staring at Marteen.

“Are you telling me that Ranger Acciaio is…” the ambassador said, before trailing off to stare at Rin. “Hero Acciaio? I thought it was just a coincidence.”

“Hrm. I thought Hero Acciaio was a dwarf,” Major Agnelli said, before also turning to Rin. “I wondered why a dwarf would have a Mareian name. You’ve been holding back on us, ranger.” Kurt couldn’t tell if the officer was angry or amused.

“I’m not the only ranger with a disreputable past,” Rin said, flatly. The major laughed.

“Yes, well, your ‘disreputable past’, as you call it, is needed by the Republic,” the ambassador said.

“How can I help you, Ambassador Tierra?” Rin asked, with perfect deference.

“We’ve come into some information about Purist activities here in Lisandra,” the ambassador said. “I passed this to the Imperial Chancellor, but he disregarded it. With your connection to the Imperial Regent, we can, as Hero Volker suggested, take this directly to Lady Sonya. If she lends her support, then perhaps we can get the Diet to act.” Rin’s face didn’t move, but Kurt could see his eyes flash with annoyance.

“With all respect, sir, you have two Heroes here,” Rin said, “They’ve seen everything I have except for the Badlands murders. Both would be happy to help you talk to the Imperial Regent. I have a hunt to continue for Smythe. I came to give you warning of the Purist army approaching the capital, and to inform Major Agnelli I’m conducting a hunt in his patrol area.”

“Didn’t you say your quarry is in the middle of that army?” the major asked. Rin nodded. “So, he’s coming to you. What’s so pressing that you can’t spend a few hours helping the Senate’s direct representative in these lands?” The major stressed the last part.

“I was hoping to ride out and catch them while they were still on the move. I could snatch Smythe from the Purists without any of them realizing it. Then I could drag him back to Lisandra for the trip back to the Republic. With all due respect, sir, catching Smythe is my mission.”

“I am the senior ranger in this patrol circuit, and I am ordering you to assist the ambassador with whatever he needs. Further, you are ordered to assist this embassy in either defending this city or evacuating it. Don’t even bother pulling chain of command on me. You’re not in the Badlands now. You’re in my circuit.”

“Understood, major,” Rin said with perfect deference before coming to a rigid stance. It wasn’t insubordinate, but clearly the actions of a junior who disagreed with orders from a senior. There was no trace of the sullenness Rin used when Kurt told him to do something the boy didn’t want to do.

“Ambassador Tierra, how reliable is this information?” Kurt asked.

“Very, in our opinion,” Ambassador Tierra said.

“So why didn’t the chancellor take this seriously?” asked Marteen.

“Officially, the Chancellor doubts our veracity,” Ambassador Tierra said, “Especially when I refused to divulge the source. Before you ask, no, I am not going to do so with you either, Hero Madrigal.” Marteen turned to Kurt with an exasperated look.

“Remind me again why Sonya just didn’t send that bastard packing when she became the Imperial Regent?” Marteen asked. Kurt groaned. The damned elf could never keep his mouth shut. To his credit, the ambassador pretended not to hear Marteen’s question or the silent exchange following.

“It will be our pleasure to assist you in getting this information to the Imperial Regent,” Kurt said to the ambassador with a formal tone. “With that in mind, we should be going to the Crystal Palace as quickly as possible.”

“Would you please give me fifteen minutes to gather my materials, Hero Volker?” Ambassador Tierra asked. “Then I will happily take you to the Crystal Palace in my carriage.”

“Of course,” Kurt answered. The ambassador escorted them out of the office to a well-appointed salon with several comfortable chairs as well as a fully stocked liquor set. Rin left with Major Agnelli to go to the embassy’s armory to replace his ammunition. Kurt selected a suede-covered armchair and sat down. He glared at Marteen when the elf picked up one of the decanters and sniffed the contents.

“What?” Marteen asked, slightly offended.

“Do you really think that’s a good idea right now?” Kurt asked.

“I was only going to have one drink,” Marteen answered.

“Marteen, it’s never just one drink,” Kurt replied, “It’s going to be hard enough for you to deal with Sonya without being drunk on top of it. You know how badly that upsets her.”

“Well, what if it does?” Marteen countered defiantly, “She’s made it perfectly clear that what I do is none of her concern anymore.”

“We both know that isn’t true. If it was, she wouldn’t have asked me to fetch you from Valera,” Kurt said. Much to Kurt’s relief, Marteen put down the liquor and stormed away from the table.

“Thank you, old friend,” Kurt said when Marteen flopped into another chair. “Rin’s going to need both of us to be strong.”

“He’s your son, Kurt, so I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt,” Marteen said. “I think you’re wrong for pushing him this way. He doesn’t need to be there. There’s nothing but pain waiting for him in that place.” Marteen’s tone told Kurt the elf was thinking of his own pain inside the Palace.

“Rin needs to see Illana,” Kurt said.

“Why? You think just his appearance will make Illana suddenly become a better person?” Marteen asked.

“Yes, I do, and I think seeing her will help him deal with all that pain he’s been carrying. Is it so wrong to want that?” Kurt asked, his frustration filling his voice.

“No,” Marteen said. “You want him to be happy. Honestly, I really hope you’re right. As for me? I’m half-expecting Rin to shoot someone after she rips him apart. I’m not sure I want to be in the room for that reunion.”

Everyone remembers Selene Onale merely as the scholar—the seemingly frivolous girl who chanced upon the prophecies and unraveled Cull’s grand design. She is often reduced to the woman who harbored unrequited love for Marteen Madrigal and whose heart was shattered when he chose Sasha. But such a view barely scratches the surface of who she truly was. The foppish, heartsick bookworm had long since vanished by the time the Heroes returned to Lisandra. The Selene who returned was a seasoned warrior, a master of Grace, and an unparalleled scholar. She had transformed into the very epitome of what a cleric should aspire to be. With resolute defiance, she walked into the Crystal Palace, embodying strength and wisdom in equal measure. Yet, it was precisely for her embodiment of these virtues that the Sacellum chose to banish her. – Artist Baken Baken, “A Retrospective of the Heroes – Five Years Later”

SELENE

Selene’s hand throbbed. She forgot how much it hurt to punch someone. She opened and closed her hand to lessen the pain as her husband, Robar, served tea. How was she going to explain Robar to these three? None of her friends knew about her marriage. When she felt Marteen, Kurt, and Rin traveling to her home, Selene furiously contemplated how to explain her situation. She thought she prepared enough to see Marteen again. It was eight years since she left Lisandra to “retire” to this little cottage. Even that morning, she prayed to the Goddess to give her the serenity to deal with Marteen. Then, she saw him just standing on her front step, smiling as if nothing had happened, and everything went red. Robar was so shocked by her reaction that he froze in the doorway as she rained blows down on Marteen. Kurt was too busy laughing to be of any use. Then, Rin yanked her off Marteen. Selene was so surprised, Robar had a chance to invite them in for tea.

Selene took a sip of her tea and examined Rin. His sudden appearance in the medallion’s pulses was a pleasant surprise. Selene chided herself at the thought. It shouldn’t have been so surprising. The promise would have brought him back from wherever he’d been hiding for the last ten years. There was a darkness in the boy. It worried Selene – and slightly frightened her. What happened to the happy boy she remembered?

“Why has the terrible trio made their way to my humble cottage?” Selene asked.

“Marteen’s hurt, and the, um, field expedient treatment…” Kurt let his voice trail off. The dwarf looked decidedly uncomfortable. Selene focused on Marteen and called upon the Goddess’s Grace. Selene’s eyes opened fully to the world around her. The teacup shattered on the hard wood floor as Selene leapt across the room to Marteen. How was Marteen even walking with that befouled hole in his body? She ripped open his shirt to get a better look. There was a half-inch hole in his shoulder area filled with a foul, black, tarry substance. Lines of black radiated from the wound, as if the substance was leeching into Marteen’s body. Selene swallowed back the bile rising in the back of her throat.

“What is this? What happened to you? What did this to you?”

“It’s ichor,” Rin said.

“What?”

“Demon blood.” Selene stared at Rin in horror.

“You did this to him? On purpose?” Selene thundered. Kurt studied the floor, but Rin defiantly met her eyes. That shocked Selene almost as much as the ichor. Even after Illana, Rin was never able to look Selene in the eye when she was angry.

“It was that or let him die,” Rin answered, “Can you honestly tell me you would’ve wanted me to let him die when there was something I could do to prevent it?” The bite in his words felt like a slap across Selene’s face. She looked back at Marteen. Even after he broke her heart, Selene knew she would have done anything to save him – and she hated herself for it.

“Evil actions cannot be justified by good intentions,” Robar intoned, scowling at Rin.

“Which means you’ve never really had to fight for your good intentions,” Rin replied coldly. Robar’s gaze hardened.

“Your statement underscores mine.”

“Who under the Protector’s Gaze are you to question my actions?"

“I’m a cleric of the Tradition of the Soul, and Selene’s husband,” Robar said, "For both these reasons, I can and will make judgment what you brought into this house.”

“Enough,” Selene said, stopping the argument before it could escalate. Time was short if she was going to save Marteen from being consumed by the corruption and cursed to damnation.

“Robar, go prepare the shrine for the purification and healing rites. Then come back here to help me with Marteen. Kurt, I’ll need your help also.” She turned her gaze on Rin.

“Right now, I need you to stay in the cottage. I can’t have you stepping on my shrine’s sacred grounds.” Rin nodded, as if he expected the command. Selene focused on Marteen. She reached out to the Goddess and felt Grace pour into her. Selene saw the wound apart from the ichor filling it. Carefully placing small strings of Grace into the wound, Selene slowed the ichor’s corruption. Just doing that much taxed Selene’s strength. Purifying and healing the entire wound was going to be one of the most intense and difficult rituals Selene performed in a long time.

“Don’t be too hard on Rin,” Marteen whispered to her as she worked. “He did what he was supposed to do.”

“Do you know what he did to you?” Selene whispered back.

“Yes,” Marteen said. “He kept me alive to get here.”

“If Kurt didn’t get you here in time, your body and soul would be desecrated. You would be torn from the Goddess.”

“Rin’s been working the Badlands. Out there, you do whatever you have to do to survive. Including using things like demon blood. Adapt or die,” Marteen said before erupting into a hacking fit. Selene thought on those words as she continued to work. She assumed Rin went back to the human lands after Illana’s restoration. It was the only real explanation for his complete disappearance. Still, she never thought he would go to the place that drove Marteen to near madness. Maybe living is such a twisted place caused the darkness she sensed in him.

Robar came back into the cottage. Kurt and Robar helped Marteen up and walked him out the back to the shrine. Rin abruptly stood up. Selene’s eyes were drawn to sword and gun belted at his waist. It was so odd to not see a quiver on his hip or a bow in his hand.

“I’ll be outside,” Rin said, “Someone should stand guard in case the Purists sent someone after us.” Selene didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing as he walked out of the cottage. Part of her wanted to go after him and heal all that pain in him. At that moment, Marteen needed her more. Selene prayed to the Goddess to help Rin as she made her way to the shrine.

Eight hours later, Selene walked into her front garden. Selene was exhausted and wanted her bed, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep if she didn’t at least try to help Rin. He was standing next to her flower bed.

“How is he?” Rin asked in a quiet voice.

“Marteen’s resting. We cleansed the ichor and mostly healed the shoulder. It took a lot out of all of us, including Marteen. He should be fine in a day or two,” Selene answered. As she walked over to where Rin was standing, Selene let herself enjoy the cool night breeze. The winds coming down off the mountains were a relief after the hours in the shrine. The rituals were even more intense than she expected. Selene wasn’t sure if Marteen would survive until the last hour. Thankfully, the Goddess acted on Selene’s prayers.

“Damn. I don’t have a day or two. The Purists have a regiment’s worth of troops marching to Lisandra. If those troops are doing a hard march, they could be at the city in a week, give or take a couple of days.” Rin looked up at the night sky as if divining the stars before looking back down to her.

“Tell Kurt to stay here with Marteen. If I leave now, I think I can catch up to them.”

“You don’t need to do that,” Selene said.

“Yes, I do,” Rin replied. Selene gave Rin a knowing smile.

“You’ll see her soon enough,” Selene said. The sudden flash of anger in Rin’s eyes caught her off-guard.

"She is not why I’m doing this.”

“You’re here because of the promise,” Selene answered, “Haven’t you felt your medallion waking up?”

“Yes,” Rin answered, curtly. Selene let the Goddess’s Grace fill her again and took a harder look at Rin. The darkness he was carrying inside was closer to the surface. It had to be related to the promise and Illana. Selene walked over and hugged him gently. It was like embracing a statue at first, but then Rin relaxed.

“You used to get so flustered anytime I touched you,” Selene said, keeping her voice light. She needed to be careful. A misstep could chase him away before she could help him. Goddess, how she wanted to help him.

“I was a kid, and you were the prettiest woman I knew. I wasn’t sure what to do.”

“I know,” Selene said, “It was endearing, and admittedly, a bit flattering.” Selene paused and then decided to make a small push. “Then, you met Illana, and you never looked at me that way again.”

“Can we not talk about her, please?” Rin asked.

“That’s fine, Rin. We don’t have to talk about Illana,” Selene said. She embraced him again.

“Thank you for saving Marteen,” Selene said. “You’re right. I would have done anything to save him in your place.”

“You’re welcome,” Rin said. “As frustrating as he can be…” Rin let the sentence trail off.

“Believe me, I know what you mean. Still, you don’t have to leave tonight, or even in the morning,” Selene said.

“Why?”

“Robar and I can open a gate back to Lisandra," Selene answered. “As soon as Marteen is strong enough, we can go directly to the Crystal Palace.” Rin cocked his head in surprise.

“How can you open a gate?” Rin asked. “I thought after the Daemon War, the knowledge was lost.”

"You’re not the only one who learned new things since the last time we saw each other. Robar and I figured out how to create a gate that can link to an existing gate. Robar figured out the natural magic side while I figured out the Grace component.”

“That is amazing Selene. The sooner we get to Lisandra, the better.”

“We?”

“Kurt says the Capitol Army is training outside the city. They’ll need time to bring them back. I have my own tasks once we get to the capital."

“That does change things,” Selene said, “Marteen can move in a day. He’ll still be recovering, but he should be strong enough to travel. We’ll open the gate at first light the day after tomorrow. Can you wait that long?” Rin just nodded.

“Thank you, Rin. For saving Marteen. And for coming home. We were so worried about you.”

"A week ago, I wouldn’t have cared. I was sure all of you abandoned me when we brought her back to Lisandra. Now I know it wasn’t all of you forgetting me, as much as the Empire taking the rest of you in and leaving me out. Which leaves me very conflicted. I know I should forgive all of you. I want to forgive all of you. I am happy to see all of you. I just can’t get rid of this anger.”

"I’m not trying to stoke that anger, but why can’t you forgive Illana, then? She is not among those who forced you out.”

“Illana is the Empire. It’s why you told us we needed to rescue her from Cull. To save the Protector-damned Empire. What did I get for helping the Empire get back on a path to healing itself?” Rin countered.

Selene bit back her retort. Rin hadn’t been there for the aftermath. He didn’t have to fight the endless political battles with the Diet and the Sacellum day in and day out. He didn’t have to deal with the woman Illana became. Goddess, Selene only managed a year before she allowed herself to be exiled to this little cottage with an arranged marriage to a husband she barely knew. If the rumors she heard were right, the others hadn’t fared as well in her absence.

"I’m sorry we hurt you, and I am so glad you are…back.” Selene didn’t know why she changed the last word.

“I’m glad you came out to talk with me, Selene.” She looked deep into Rin’s eyes.

“You are my friend, and I have precious few of those. I hate seeing you in pain.”

“I’ll survive. I’ve managed the pain this long.” Rin yawned. Selene smiled at him.

“Off to bed with you. Someone else can look out for any Purists until morning.” Rin looked like he might object, but then she gave him the same stern look she used on him when he was younger. Rin chuckled and walked back into the cottage.

Selene looked up into the starry night. It had been a gut-wrenching day. It didn’t help Marteen’s appearance stirred up feelings she thought put away a long time ago. She looked back and thought of Rin. As hard as Selene’s life was since Illana’s return, Rin’s was worse. She couldn’t imagine carrying around that kind of pain and anger for a decade. Her own heartache paled.

Goddess, please indulge me further, and let me heal him, Selene prayed silently. It was one of a hundred prayers Selene sent to her deity on a daily basis. It was not the one she expected to hear an answer.

IT IS NOT YOUR TASK TO HEAL THE HIS HEART, the smooth, powerful voice echoed in Selene’s mind, IT WILL BE YOUR TASK TO GUIDE HIM TO THE ONE WHO WILL HEAL HIM. Selene sank to the soft, cool ground as she felt the Goddess’s presence leave her mind. It would be no use to ask the Goddess what She meant. The Goddess only said what She wanted someone to know – no more and no less.

The next morning, Kurt was waiting for her in the sitting room. The scruffy dwarf was sitting on the couch, holding a mug of coffee. She never understood the fascination with the human drink. Especially when there were more civilized alternatives available. Kurt smiled at her as she stepped into the room.

“Join me?” he asked, motioning to her favorite chair.

“Good morning, Kurt,” Selene said. “Can we talk later? I have a great deal to do.”

“Just a few minutes, please. Indulge an old friend,” Kurt said, “I don’t think we’ll have the time later with you getting ready to open that gate to Lisandra.” She wanted to beg off, but Selene didn’t dare. Not after yesterday. Neither Selene nor Robar would have been able to handle Marteen while he was in the throes of agony, but the burly dwarf had years of experience restraining Marteen.

“How did you know about the gate?” Selene asked.

“I have my ways,” Kurt said, cryptically.

“Rin told you.”

“It’s not fair when you use logic,” Kurt said. Selene chuckled as she dropped down in the chair. She missed the dwarf’s odd sense of humor.

“Why didn’t you tell us that you’d married?” Kurt asked. “All we knew was you left the Sacellum.” Selene was quiet for a long moment. She pondered telling him the whole story. She knew Kurt wouldn’t judge her for being weak.

“It was so hard seeing the two of them happy. Seeing her have what I wanted,” Selene said, “Between dealing with my heartache, dealing with Illana, dealing with Ela, and dealing with the Sacellum, I just couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t be the Selene all of you needed anymore. The Sacellum offered me a way out.” The look in Kurt’s eyes said he knew there was more, but he didn’t press her further. Selene felt even more guilty, but relieved at the same time.

“Well, if we handle things right, the Illana situation will be resolved,” Kurt said, with a conspiratorial air.

“What are you talking about?” Selene asked.

“Rin’s come home,” Kurt answered. Selene waited for Kurt to continue, but the dwarf just looked at her.

“Kurt, have you seen the anger in Rin’s eyes anytime Illana’s name is mentioned?” Selene asked. “Even if Rin didn’t feel that way, I know how much worse Illana’s become since I left. She’ll throw one of her tantrums, he’ll fight back because of that anger, and then she’ll drive him away again. Just like she’s managed to do with pretty much everyone else. I don’t think even Sonya actually deals with her as much as works around her.”

“Selene, you’re the most intelligent of our little band,” Kurt said. “Think about how Illana and Rin acted when they were together and compare that to how they act now. Their personalities radically changed in a very short time. What could cause that?”

“I’m sure there’s an answer, but right now, I’m still too foggy to think through that question,” Selene said.

“Think about it today. I have a hunch, but I would like someone else to confirm what I suspect. I’ll try to talk with you again before we leave for Lisandra.” Selene stood up and gave Kurt a quick hug and peck on his forehead before walking back to the shrine to check on Marteen. Her mind started pulling apart Kurt’s words. She swore under her breath. Damn that dwarf for giving her a problem to solve.

Why are my superiors so sure that the Purists are like the rabble that call themselves dwarven independence fighters? I know that in the beginning they may have been. At least from the reports my superiors shove in my face every time I tell them the situation my men face. I tried to explain the current crop of Purists were more like professional soldiers. Which, if the Purists are the heirs to Cull, it would harken back to the Black and the Red. Those were fanatics, but they were fanatics who trained under former infantry officers. Given the numbers of Reclamation War veterans, even veteran officers, is it truly out of the realm of probability the Purists managed to form their own copies of the Black and Red? – Personal correspondence from Capt. Tuli to his wife, ten days before his platoon was ambushed by a Purist forced and killed to the last man

RIN

“Welcome to our camp, Acolyte,” their captive said as they emerged from the tree line. His name was Kir, and he’d been recruited when Purist recruiters came through his town some sixteen months ago. After talking with him, it was clear Kir was recruited for his enthusiasm and a small skill at hunting, but not much else.

“Where is everyone?” Rin asked.

“I’m sorry Acolyte, but it looks like the main force has already left. Acolyte Smythe most likely went with them.” Marteen, Kurt, and Rin traded worried looks.

“I’m sure we’ll catch up to them,” Rin said, giving Kir a hearty slap on the shoulder. The elf smiled eagerly.

“It looks like Prior Venat is still here, at least” Kir said, pointing at the largest of the tents still in the clearing. “He’ll be able to tell you anything you need.”

“Lead on then,” Rin said. Kir briskly stepped down to the camp. Marteen kept his hands near the pair of swords he scrounged from the dead. Kurt was holding a primed musket in his hands with two more lashed to his horse. The dwarf was uncomfortable with the muskets, but Rin was confident Kurt could hit something within five meters. If nothing else, the gun smoke would give some concealment.

“Rin, this looks more like a proper military camp than something thrown together by a rabble,” Kurt observed.

“How many would you say they had here when it was full?”

“If they set this up like Imperial Army encampment, I’d say about two thousand,” Marteen said.

“Two thousand?” Kurt asked, barely keeping his voice low. “How, under the Mad God, did the Purists manage to scrape up two thousand people to fight for them?”

“Better question – how long were they here?” Rin asked.

“From the way the earth is churned up and the smell, I’d say at least a couple of months,” Marteen said.

The remaining Purists in the camp looked suspicious of the three but didn’t say anything. Kir waved at two musket-armed elves standing guard at the largest tent’s entrance.

“Talen, they need to see the Prior,” Kir said to the taller of the guards.

“Where’s the rest of your patrol?” Talen asked with a deep voice. “And who are these three?” His eyes locked on Rin and went wide.

“That’s what I need to talk with the Prior about,” Kir said. “Talen, it’s urgent.” The guard nodded and stepped into the tent. After a few moments, Talen emerged and motioned for them to follow him.

As Rin stepped into the tent, the first thing he noticed was how empty it was. For as large as the tent was, there were none of the trappings Rin expected. The only furnishings in the tent were the stool the Prior was sitting on and the paper-strewn camp table the elf was hunched over. The Prior was an older elf in worn brown pants and an even more worn off-white cotton shirt. The Prior’s weary face twisted into a scowl as Rin and the others came closer. He pulled the black hair back and examined the trio with small, dark eyes.

"Kir, what under the Light is going on?

“The other acolyte needed to speak with you, Prior,” Kir said, his voice faltering.

“What other acolyte?” Prior Venat looked over at Rin’s group and his face blanched.

“You idiot! Those are the ones you were supposed to kill!” the Prior said. The slight hiss of Marteen’s swords clearing their scabbards was followed by the sound of flesh slicing open and screams of pain. The guard behind them was down. Rin drew his own sword and cut down Kir before the elf could react. As Kir fell, Rin pounced on the Prior as the old elf struggled to pull out an old flintlock pistol. Rin severed the Prior’s hand with a clean slash.

“Marteen, watch if any other guards come through,” Rin said.

“I know how to handle myself in a fight, Rin,” Marteen answered. “This is what I do, in case you’ve forgotten.” Marteen always sounded so happy in a fight.

“Just make sure we don’t get shot,” Rin said before turning back to the Prior.

“You will all burn in everlasting torments,” the Prior said.

“I’m sure. Where is Smythe?”

“Two weeks gone! On his way to purify the Crystal Palace alongside the Edess Kul and the Regiment of the Pure,” the Prior answered with gleeful abandon. “You will never be able to get to Lisandra before they crush and purify the heretic–” Rin slashed open the Prior’s throat. He got everything he was going to get from the old elf. The killing had nothing to do with how the Prior was talking about her. Nothing.

“God of Iron, if they left here two weeks ago, then they could be in Lisandra in another week or two. It will take us at least three weeks to get there at best speed,” Kurt said.

“What’s the worry? The Capitol Army will tear through this rabble,” Marteen said, with a sudden dark tone. “Especially with all of the muskets and cannon the humans gave them.”

“No, you idiot, they won’t,” Kurt said, “The Capitol Army is out on the White Plains training with those muskets and cannon. The only military force in Lisandra right now is the Crystal Guard.”

“Pallus is leading them,” Marteen replied, “I’m sure he can handle it.” There was a nasty undertone in the elf’s words, but Rin didn’t have time to sort it out.

“Can we worry about the Purists out there first?” Rin asked, moving his sword to his left hand and drawing his revolver. They heard the loud clacks of dozens of muskets being cocked in unison. Rin slashed at the far wall of the tent and yelled for Kurt and Marteen to follow him. As soon as they were out of the tent, Rin pushed them to the ground. He knew the next sounds. First, the metallic snap of the locks. A brief pause. Then, a small pop as the powder in the pan ignited the powder. The ragged roar of the volley followed quickly by the whistles of the musket balls whipping over their heads.

“Up! Now! While they’re reloading!” Rin commanded, jumping up to his feet. He charged around the tent, revolver in hand. From the shocked looks on the Purists’ faces, they expected Rin and his friends to be dead. Rin gunned down the elf leading the firing line before turning the revolver on the four closest on the volley line. Before the dead elves hit the ground, Marteen sped by him with a cackle. The swordmaster flung himself into the throng of desperately reloading Purists.

It had been a long time since Rin watched Marteen dance. It was a sight both terrible and beautiful to behold. The elf effortlessly glided around his opponents’ stumbling attacks while lashing out with perfect cuts, slashes, and lunges. During the Reclamation War, Marteen earned the name “The Scythe.” From the stories, entire battalions were brought to a standstill by the elf dancing in front of Rin. To the humans who fought him, Marteen was death personified. To the elves, Marteen was simply the greatest swordmaster of the past three generations. Marteen ended his dance with a few minor slashes and slightly out of breath. Marteen saw Rin staring, and true to form, bowed with dramatic flourish.

Marteen didn’t see the Purist emerge from a tent with musket in hand. Rin dashed towards the Purist as the elf kneeled and brought his musket up. The Purist saw Rin, but to his credit, he kept his focus on the confused Marteen. Rin saw the flash of powder in the pan, and a half-second later, the rolling smoke and thunder. The Purist was smiling as Rin opened him up with a pair of slashes.

“Rin!” Kurt yelled. Rin spun around. Marteen was on the ground unleashing a string of profanity. Rin slid next to Marteen and did a quick inspection of the wound. It was worse than he feared. The musket ball slammed into the elf’s shoulder and tore it apart. Blood was quickly pooling under Marteen.

“Kurt, third bag on the left side of my saddle. Bring the whole bag,” Rin commanded, as he pulled out a pair of small wax capsules from a small pouch on his belt. Marteen would understand. The elf looked up at Rin with a bewildered look. Rin bit down on both capsules and forced them into the wound. Marteen screamed in agony as oily fluid erupted from the capsules and filled the hole in Marteen’s shoulder. The bleeding stopped instantly, but ripples of black were visible on the edge of the wound. Rin let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. It contained itself to the wound, thank the Protector. Rin concentrated on the thrum in the medallion. She was still there.

“God of Iron, boy, what did you do?” Kurt said, holding a saddlebag in his hands. Damn, Rin forgot exactly how fast the dwarf could move on those stubby legs of his.

“Ichor,” Rin answered, taking the bag out of Kurt’s hands and rummaging through it. Where was that bottle? Of course, it slipped down to the bottom of the bag. Things could never be easy.

“What is ichor?”

“Demon blood,” Rin answered as he worked furiously. Kurt’s eyes went wide, but Rin ignored him. There would be time to deal with Kurt’s outrage later. Rin pulled out a small flask and a roll of bandages. He unstoppered the flask and poured a shot into Marteen’s mouth. Marteen recoiled at the taste but swallowed. Then, his head lolled to the side as his body used all its strength to fight the wound and the ichor’s infection. Rin hoped he got enough of the vile concoction into Marteen or the elf might not survive the next fifteen minutes. Rin quickly wrapped Marteen’s shoulder. Having done all he could, Rin sat back down and caught his breath.

“Son, what did you just do?” Kurt asked, warily.

“Kept Marteen from bleeding out,” Rin said, “If we’re lucky, he might even regain the use of his arm.”

“With demon magic?” Kurt asked, his voice a barely controlled whisper.

“No, demon blood,” Rin replied.

“Why would you use demon blood?”

“Ichor will seal the wound. It’ll keep him alive until we can get him to a cleric.”

“Does demon blood corrupt a person like demon magic does?” Kurt asked.

“Yes, but slowly,” Rin answered, letting his anger tint his tone. “If we can get Marteen to a cleric, the corruption can be cleansed before he’s separated from the Goddess. And we both know there’s one not too far off.”

“You felt her too,” Kurt said. “Did you consider her when you decided to use that on Marteen?”

“Honestly, I don’t know,” Rin answered, wearily. “Using ichor is a last resort type of thing. If I didn’t use it, Marteen would have bled out in a few minutes. Maybe less. Even if we stopped the bleeding some other way, he’d probably lose his arm.” Kurt nodded with understanding, but not agreement. Well, Rin would live with that.

“So, how are we going to get him to her before that desecration of his body and soul is permanent?” Kurt asked, “She’s not far, but she’s not close either. And Marteen is unconscious.” Almost as if to answer Kurt, Marteen jumped to his feet and screamed in pain. The elf sprinted in random paths around the camp while screaming at the top of his lungs. Kurt gave Rin a questioning look, but the human just shrugged.

“He’ll be good enough to travel in a few minutes,” Rin said.

“Demon blood does that?”

“It’s not from the ichor. I needed to give his body’s vitality a boost.” Rin held up the small flask. “It’s a concoction the army chemists use.” Rin watched Marteen running around for a moment more.

“From personal experience, when Marteen comes down off the initial rush, I’m sure he’ll think it was demon magic.”

It was the better part of two days’ ride to the small cottage nestled in a clearing. There wasn’t even a real path through the forest, just an overgrown game trail. As the trio emerged from the forest, Rin felt his medallion pulse faster. The metal disc was happy to be this close to her.

“Well, that certainly looks cozy,” Marteen growled. Rin ignored Marteen’s foul temper. Ichor sapped a person’s vitality and did nothing to ease the pain of the wound. To Marteen’s credit, he wasn’t any worse than he was when he was hungover.

“Be glad she’s here,” Kurt said.

“Why is she here?” Rin asked.

“We don’t know. She just told us she was leaving Lisandra about eight years ago,” Kurt answered.

“At least she told us was leaving.” Rin ignored the jibe.

“Marteen, go knock on the door while we tie up here.”

“Why me?” Marteen asked.

“Because you’re the hurt one, and we’re busy.” Marteen harrumphed and dismounted from his horse. It was more of a controlled fall than a proper dismount. Marteen staggered down the well-tended path to the cottage’s front door. Marteen knocked twice on the blue door before it swung open. A lithe, dark-haired elf woman in light green robes stood in the doorway. Around her neck, she wore the same medallion as Rin, Kurt, and Marteen. Her beautiful face was contorted in a mask of rage. Rin was taken aback. He’d never seen her so furious in his life, and he pushed her temper hard a couple of times.

“Uh, hello, Selene,” Marteen stammered as he stepped back from the enraged woman. Selene took a step, and just as Marteen taught her so many years ago, punched Marteen square in the face. Kurt nearly fell off his pony laughing.

What can be said of Ela Madrigal, a woman whose story is so tragically overshadowed by her counterparts? While many of the Heroes found redemption through their journeys, Ela’s tale is one of profound misfortune. Often referred to merely as Ela the Huntress, this label reduces her to a single aspect of her multifaceted identity. It was indeed her extraordinary hunting skills that brought her to prominence during the Reclamation War, leading the scouts with unparalleled expertise. However, her narrative is much more than her martial prowess. Had she been afforded the recognition she rightfully deserved, perhaps she would be celebrated today as a distinguished military leader and strategist. Her unwavering loyalty to her brother Marteen, though noble, ultimately led her into obscurity after the war’s end. One might ponder if her path would have been different had she not followed Marteen into the ranks of the Heroes, where she met Ral the Betrayer and became soulbound to a man whose treachery would seal her fate. Forced to kill her soulbond, Ela spiraled into madness—a consequence of the stringent roles and tragic circumstances imposed upon her. Ela’s story demands that we question the notion of fate. Should we believe that her tragic end was preordained, or can we accept that she possessed the agency to make her own choices? If her destiny was as unchangeable as it appears, then it stands as a testament to the most merciless force in existence. Yet, it is essential to recognize her as a woman of immense potential and complexity, whose legacy deserves to be remembered in full.– Artist Baken Baken, “A Retrospective of the Heroes – Five Years Later”

KURT

Kurt stood up from the bedroll and stretched. The morning pains were worse than Kurt remembered. One of the perks of being an Imperial emissary was he didn’t have to sleep on the ground. Of course, if he didn’t have to deal with Marteen’s hangover, then Kurt could have found a nice inn and slept in a bed.

“Good morning,” Rin said, pouring a cup of coffee.

“I thought Marteen had the last watch,” Kurt said before taking a sip.

“I needed the time alone to think.”

“About Ela?” Kurt asked.

“I keep wondering if I did the right thing by not killing her,” Rin said.

“I think it would have shattered you – just as killing Ral shattered her,” Kurt said. “She didn’t leave you any good choices. You took the least bad. You had no way of knowing how it would all end.”

“Don’t you think I’ve been telling myself that?” Rin snarled. Kurt took a step back. Rin held up his hand, silently asking for a moment.

“I’m sorry. After finding out what happened to her and dealing with Marteen’s hangover, it’s harder to keep this anger under control.” The words were a gut punch to Kurt.

“I hate seeing you in this pain. I’m so sorry about what I did,” Kurt said. “I will do anything to make this better between us. To get us at least close to where we were.”

“That’s one thing I realized last night,” Rin said. “I don’t know how to explain it, but it’s like this ball of anger inside me is separate from my feelings towards you and Marteen.”

“Hrm.” Kurt stroked his beard.

“I know that look, Kurt. Something’s tickled a memory.”

“Yes, and I know it’s important, but I can’t remember what and why. Best to just let my mind rest and the memory will come up on its own. Good thing we have a long ride back to Lisandra.”

“I’m not going to Lisandra. I’m hunting my quarry, and then I’m going back to Marei.”

“Rin, there’s only one major road around here – the Imperial Highway. Your sorcerer and those nobles will have to travel down that at least part of the way.” Rin frowned, but there was something comforting about that. It was the same frown Rin always used when he got muley because he didn’t want to admit Kurt was right. Kurt could see the boy he raised in that expression.

“I’ll go wake Marteen. We need to get moving.”

“You remember—”

“Yes, I remember. It’ll be nice to be able to let out some of this anger,” Rin said, walking over to the sleeping Marteen. Kurt went to saddle his pony. Marteen deserved whatever Rin did. Besides, Marteen didn’t hold grudges for what they did to him when he was hungover. With long practice, Kurt ignored the shouts and sounds of scuffling behind him. There was a particularly sharp yelp from Marteen. Yep, the boy dumped water on the elf. Kurt was going to have to saddle Marteen’s horse as well, but he was going to make Rin get the elf on the horse.

After much more time than Kurt wanted, the three Heroes rode along the Imperial Highway in silence. Marteen was in the throes of his hangover and just stared at the road. Kurt was grateful for the silence. He needed time to think. He hated lying to Rin with their relationship on such shaky ground. However, as his father, he needed to help Rin. It wasn’t much to go on. An intuition based on an old conversation with Ral on their journey to rescue the princess. Plus, there was the look in Rin’s eyes when he spoke of Illana. If Kurt was right, he needed to get Rin to Lisandra. It was no longer about the promise, but healing his son.

Rin stopped in the middle of the road. Kurt brought his pony alongside Rin’s horse. Marteen didn’t notice and continued to let his horse walk. Kurt looked around, trying to see what caught Rin’s attention. This stretch of the Imperial Highway went through the Fellal Forest. Like the rest of the highway, the road was hard-packed dirt with grass on either side before the forest reasserted itself. Rin swept his eyes back and forth along the left tree line, but Kurt didn’t see or hear anything out of place. Without taking his eyes off the trees, Rin reached down and drew his rifle from the scabbard on his saddle.

“What is it son?” Kurt asked.

“Someone is stalking us,” Rin answered, still searching.

“Then we should probably find cover. Over there?” Kurt suggested, pointing to the tree line to the right of the highway.

“Lead Marteen there. I’ll cover you,” Rin said. Kurt nodded and kicked his pony to catch up with Marteen. Just as the dwarf grabbed the leads to Marteen’s horse when a loud thundercrack echoed through the forest. Kurt felt more than heard something whistle next to his head.

“GO!” yelled Rin as he snapped the rifle to his shoulder. Rin aimed at a cloud of blue-gray smoke wafting out of the trees and fired. An elf in hunting garb fell out of a tree. Kurt’s eyes locked on the musket clutched in the elf’s hands. Did that bastard Valera send assassins after them?

“Are we in a fight?” asked Marteen, looking up at the sounds.

“Yes, you idiot!” Kurt snapped. The forest exploded in deafening sound. More musket balls whistled by Kurt and Marteen.

“Excellent!” Marteen yelled. The elf slid off his horse with a burst of energy. Kurt snarled as he led the horses off the road. Damn the Mad God. Give that fool elf a fight and he was all smiles and sunshine.

“Rin, where’s your bow?” Marteen asked, running up Rin’s horse. Rin didn’t act surprised by Marteen. He just fired his rifle again. Another elf fell from the trees. Rin’s hands blurred as he reloaded the rifle and brought it back up to his shoulder.

“I don’t have one,” Rin answered an instant before killing another assassin. He reloaded his rifle again with that same deftness. Well, the boy hadn’t lost any of his speed.

“Don’t have one? What do you mean you don’t have one? Well, what do you have?” Marteen rummaged around Rin’s saddlebag and came up with a hatchet. Marteen scanned the tree line, ignoring the musket balls whipping around him. Marteen’s eyes narrowed as he found a target. He pitched the hatchet into a shrub at the base of one of the trees. He was rewarded with a scream of pain. Marteen leapt into the tree line and out of view.

Kurt was useless in the fight. All he had was his sword. How was he supposed to fight against people armed with guns? Kurt ducked as another bullet cracked above him. This was the most terrified he’d been in years. How did Rin just sit there on his horse and calmly trade shots with these brigands? As if on cue, Rin killed another an almost casual ease.

The firing from the trees stopped. Four brigands sprinted out of the treeline down the highway. Holding his long rifle in his left hand, Rin drew his revolver and scythed them down in one long stream of fire. As the last one fell, Rin holstered his revolver. He slid the rifle back in its scabbard before dropping down off his horse. Rin focused on the trees. There was some thrashing in the branches, and then Marteen emerged dragging a bleeding elf. Kurt led the horses back to Rin and Marteen.

“Rin, I brought you a present!” Marteen boomed. Marteen’s clothes were tattered and bloody from several nasty-looking cuts.

“Release me, you foul spawn of a sow!” the elf screamed. “If you do not–” As soon as the elf saw Rin, he fell silent and stared at the boy in horror. Rin gave the elf a predatory smile that chilled Kurt’s bones.

“So, this is what we were killing,” Rin said, and then walked closely to the elf, “Perhaps you best explain why you attacked us, friend, before I get annoyed.” The elf collapsed and bowed before Rin. The three Heroes traded quizzical looks.

“Goddess, you’re a human,” the elf said with wide-eyed surprise, “Please, they didn’t tell us there would be another Acolyte.”

“What were you told?” Rin asked.

“We were to kill the three people who were following the Acolytes. They didn’t say anything about there being more Acolytes. Please forgive me, Acolyte.” Rin motioned for the other two to back off a bit. Kurt dragged Marteen off the road before Marteen could say anything.

“You missed the three you were supposed to kill,” Rin said, “I was tracking them and because of your attack, I don’t know if I can find them.” The elf looked over at where Kurt and Marteen were standing before looking up at Rin in confusion. Rin could see the question bubbling up in the elf.

“They work for me,” Rin said, in a low tone that Kurt could barely hear, “They don’t understand our cause, but they are useful tools.” The elf nodded solemnly.

“Where are the others?” Rin asked.

“At the camp, Acolyte,” the elf answered, confused. “Where else would they be?”

“If you don’t know that, then you don’t need to know any more at this time,” Rin answered, menace coloring his tone. The elf paled. “You will lead us to the camp after I tend to my mercenaries. In the meantime, take care of your comrades’ bodies.” The elf nodded furiously and scampered off to the underbrush. Rin walked over and picked up one of the Purist’s muskets.

“Should we be letting him run free?” Marteen asked, walking over. Kurt followed behind him with an exasperated look on his face.

“As far as he’s concerned, I’m an Acolyte and you two are my minions,” Rin answered.

“Acolytes? I’ve heard the term come up from investigations into the Purists. We know they are high in the Purist hierarchy, but not how high,” Kurt said. “What do you have there?” Rin held up the musket for Marteen and Kurt to see.

“It’s one of those black-market muskets Valera’s been smuggling to the Purists,” Marteen said, disgusted. “He must have sent these brigands. I told you we shouldn’t have just left him.” Rin shook his head.

“Marteen, do you remember how much grief you gave me when I couldn’t tell the difference between a Crystal Woods long sword and a Southern River broad sword?” Rin asked.

“Yeah,” Marteen said, confused by the question.

“Be very glad I’m not as petty,” Rin replied, “See that stamp on the barrel?” Rin pointed at an eagle with its wings outstretched grasping a lightning bolt in its talons. “That’s an Arsenale Granito manufacturing mark. This musket was made for the Mareian Army. It was probably part of the lots surplussed to the Imperial Army.”

“How do you know that?” Marteen asked.

“If this musket was sold to the public, the armory would have placed a stamp over the eagle. Being in possession of an Arsenale weapon with a clean stamp is death by summary execution. No smuggler in his right mind would be caught with a musket with a clean mark. There’s enough private gun makers to risk dealing in these.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Kurt said.

“I’m going to find a sword,” Marteen grumbled as he strode to the line of bodies the captured elf was assembling for a pyre. Kurt sidled up to Rin.

“So, how did these weapons end up in the hands of the Purists?” Kurt asked.

“They’re either stealing them from Imperial Army units or a sympathizer in the Imperial government is diverting them.”

“Something to discuss with Sonya. You had me worried there, boy,” Kurt said.

“Why?”

“You were just standing out there in the open when all of those elves were shooting at you.”

“Oh that,” Rin said, nonchalantly. “If they’d lined up for a proper volley, we might have been in trouble. When that first ball went whistling by us, I knew they didn’t know how to use them properly. Muskets are finicky if they’re not handled properly.”

“How did you know that they were shooting muskets and not something like what you’re carrying?” Kurt asked, pointing at the revolver at Rin’s hip.

“Sound of the first shot and the smell of the gunpowder,” Rin answered. “Kurt, it’s not the first time I’ve been shot at.”

“Sometimes you’re as bad as Marteen,” Kurt muttered.

“I’m nowhere as bad as Marteen. I’ve never enjoyed battle the way he does,” Rin said.

“Then explain Pallus and you bickering during all those fights,” Kurt said. “There’s no way you two could keep that up if you weren’t enjoying the fight.”

“I was doing it to keep Pall from knowing how terrified I was,” Rin said. Kurt grunted what could have charitably called a chuckle. Rin looked back at their prisoner.

“Thank the Protector, we’ve picked up Smythe’s trail. With some luck, I can put that bastard in irons or in the ground and be back on my way to the Republic before the fortnight.” Kurt decided to test his theory a bit.

“So, you’re really not going to keep the promise to Illana?” Kurt asked, “I know you don’t owe the Empire anything, but what about Illana? Don’t you owe her an explanation for why you haven’t been in her life for the past decade?” Rin was quiet for a long moment. He turned and walked away from Kurt without answering. So, there was something still there.

“If you want to grab one of those muskets and a cartridge box from the dead, I’ll show you how to use it,” Rin said. “It might not hurt to have another gun on our side.” Kurt watched as Rin checked over the gear on his horse. Kurt smiled but made sure not to let Rin see it. Rin still fiddled with things when he didn’t want to decide. Kurt couldn’t blame his son. Women could be frightfully difficult to understand. Kurt just hoped the others wouldn’t ruin things before Kurt managed to get Rin to Lisandra. And Illana.

The Heroes of the Empire were an odd collection of people who were in disfavor when they first came together. Jevin is probably the best-known example – the last leader of the Crystal Guard who was cast out of society after he failed to stop the murder of the emperor and the kidnapping of the princess. I tend to favor Marteen the Scythe. One of the few who emerged from the Reclamation War with an honorable and feared reputation, who fell from those heights to being a lowly drunk, then disappeared for a decade, only to become a central figure in not only the band of Heroes, but the post-return Empire. This is why the story of the Heroes will endure. Not only its sheer drama, but also its theme of redemption. – Aleessa Torrik, in the foreword to her “Collections of Accounts of the Heroes of the Empire”

MARTEEN

Marteen twitched. Damn these clothes. They were tight and pinched in the oddest places. It didn’t help that his head was throbbing. Marteen didn’t even bother asking Kurt for some wine or ale to take the edge off. The dwarf absolutely refused to give him anything stronger than water. He briefly considered asking Rin, but quickly decided against it. Rin was just as bad as his father. Both were merciless when it came to Marteen’s pleas for mercy. It was like they enjoyed watching him suffer.

He staggered back to the small clearing where they set up camp for the night. Marteen’s eyes settled on Rin. He couldn’t believe how old Rin looked after only ten years. Marteen knew humans lived short lives, but he never thought of that happening to Rin. There was tension between Kurt and Rin. Marteen suspected it had something to do with why Rin left. Marteen understood why Rin needed to go. It was the same reason a much younger Marteen joined the Army of Reclamation. At least it looked like Rin’s adventures hadn’t ended in the same kind of horrific disaster. Marteen wasn’t sure if he was happy or angry about that.Rin tended a pot cooking over the fire. From the smell, it was a porridge of some kind. At least his friends were being conscientious of his guts if not his throbbing head. Rin handed Marteen a bowl before handing another to a frowning Kurt.

“Why didn’t you arrest Lord Valera?” Kurt asked, angrily. Oh, maybe the tension was from something else.

“For what? He wasn’t breaking any laws of the Republic,” Rin said, calmly. Marteen couldn’t believe his ears. His anger flared up as his head throbbing strengthened.

“He’s selling guns!” Marteen bellowed. “Everyone knows Valera is responsible for all the illegal guns coming into the Empire!”

“Do you have evidence we could take before a magistrate? Or perhaps a writ of attainder from this Lady Sonya for Valera’s removal?” Rin asked, with an infuriating calm. Marteen scowled at Rin, but the boy didn’t even flinch.

“I didn’t think so,” Rin said.

“Everyone knows Valera’s the source,” Marteen said. “Why are you being a sheep’s ass? We can go back and grab him. We’re Heroes of the Empire, for Light’s sake.” Rin fixed a cold gaze on Marteen before speaking.

“How well did that work for you, Marteen?” Rin asked.

“I was drunk last time. I’m not now.”

“No, you’re worse than drunk. You’re useless.” Marteen got to his feet and stormed towards the boy.

“Rin, you may be all grown up for a human, but I can still whip you,” Marteen said. Rin’s hand shot up and yanked Marteen off-balance. The elf hit the ground hard, but he rolled and sprang back up to his feet. Rin slapped Marteen across the face before Marteen could get into a fighting stance. Marteen fell back to the ground, his face stinging.

“Not right now, you can’t,” Rin said, “Right now, you’re that same drunk I found in that tavern when I was a boy.” Marteen’s head throbbed and his face still stung. Rin loomed over him. No, he really wasn’t in any shape to take on Rin.

“Fine, you win. This time.” Satisfied, Rin held his hand out for Marteen. The elf knocked the proffered hand away and stood up on his own. Maybe he wasn’t at his best, but that wasn’t any reason for Rin to rub it in.

“Even if we don’t have enough evidence or a writ, Valera’s activities need to be stopped,” Kurt said.

“Yes and no,” Rin said. Marteen and Kurt looked at him like he’d grown another head. “The Empire may want to curtail some of Valera’s more egregious activities, but if it were up to me, I’d keep him where he is.”

“Why, under the God of Iron’s gaze, would you suggest that?” Kurt asked.

“Because you’re thinking of him as a rebellious lord,” Rin answered, “He’s not betraying the Empire for some grand cause. Valera’s a black-market merchant who just happens to be a noble. He’s not about to endanger his profit by doing something stupid or allow someone else to endanger his profit by their stupidity. If you handle Valera properly, he can be a useful asset.”

“You know how to handle men like that?” Marteen asked, snidely. Rin was acting too much like Pallus with his lecturing. Marteen stopped thinking about that. The less he thought of Pallus, the less he thought of Sonya, and the less he felt the pain. That went doubly since Kurt wasn’t going to let him have anything stronger than water. Couldn’t he understand Marteen needed to do something about the pain?

“Not really my strong suit,” Rin answered.

“Oh, then what is your strong suit?” Marteen asked. Rin gave him a flat look. It was almost a mirror of Kurt’s when they thought Marteen was being an ass. Well, they were being asses. And his head hurt.

“I’m more used to dealing with demons and bandits than people like Valera,” Rin said. Demons? Why was Rin dealing with demons? There was only one answer that made sense. Marteen took a second look at Rin. Yes, working in the Badlands would explain the new hardness in the boy. Dear Goddess, why would Rin go there? Didn’t he remember everything that Marteen told him over the years when they were on Kurt’s farm?

“Who would know how to do what you’re suggesting?” Kurt asked, breaking Marteen’s train of thought.

“Maybe the constables in Lisandra? If not, talk to the rangers at the Mareian Embassy.”

“Do you know any of them?”

“Kurt, I’m not going to Lisandra. I’ve got a sorcerer to hunt down, and I wasted too much time dealing with Valera,” Rin said. Rage overtook Marteen at the callousness in Rin’s voice.

“Wasted too much time? You didn’t do anything. You should have arrested him. He’s selling guns to the Purists!” Marteen screamed at Rin. The human shook his head.

“You’re wrong about that, Marteen,” Rin said. “Valera is not selling guns to these Purists. The way he talks about them? He despises them as much as you.”

“No one hates them as much as I do,” Marteen shouted. Rin stared at Marteen for several long moments before turning to Kurt.

“Who are the Purists?”

“Traitors and murderers,” Marteen seethed.

“Not all of the people have been happy with events in the Empire since the princess returned,” Kurt said.

“Not happy? After what they’ve done, and you say not happy?” Marteen snarled. Kurt shot a warning look at Marteen before explaining further.

“The Pursits came to the Crystal Palace’s attention about eight years ago,” Kurt said, “At that time they were just circulating pamphlets decrying the state of the Empire. To the Purists, the downturn in the Empire’s fortunes since the Daemon War is due to the poisoned state of the Crystal Blood. If the Empire wants to regain its glory, the Blood must be purified. Preferably by killing the current descendants.”

“What?” Rin asked. Marteen saw the flash of outrage on Rin’s face. From how cool and composed the boy acted since leaving Valera’s, Marteen didn’t expect that. Rin quickly managed to return to his impassive look.

“I’m assuming there’s more to these Purists than just circulating wild theories. Even before I left there were dozens of crackpot groups. None of them cause us as much concern as you two are showing,” Rin said. Kurt and Marteen traded resigned looks.

“They didn’t concern us – at first. The Purists would harass Imperial officials, spread their pamphlets, and maybe some petty theft from Imperial buildings. About six years ago, they started attacking imperial holdings and minor nobles. The Frontier Army went out and managed to round up some of the small bands. We thought they were done. Then, a couple of years ago, they came back with a vengeance. From what we’ve managed to learn, someone called the Edess Kul rebuilt the Purists into a real army.”

“Let me guess. The Frontier Army had as much trouble finding them as they’ve had hunting down the dwarven independence groups,” Rin observed.

“Worse. Purist militias ambush the Frontier Army’s patrols,” Kurt said, “They’re using guns, which many of the patrols don’t have. They’ve done more damage to the Frontier Army than the dwarves have for the past fifty years.”

“So, what’s being done?” Rin asked.

“Marteen was sent out,” Kurt answered.

“Why did they send you?” Rin asked Marteen.

“Because they attacked Lock Keep and slaughtered everyone!” Marteen snarled. Rin was clearly confused. Marteen’s rage threatened to consume him. How could Rin not understand?

“Ela was at Lock Keep,” Kurt explained. Rin’s eyes went wide as his mouth dropped open in shock.

“Ela?” Rin asked. Marteen felt a small evil satisfaction that this broke through the boy’s composure. Rin held up his hand. “Wait, I thought Selene arranged for Ela to go to a hospital in Lisandra. What is this Lock Keep?”

“Ela’s mind sickness kept getting worse. She escaped from the hospital multiple times. She killed three people during her last attempt. At that point, we were forced to send her to Lock Keep. It’s where many of the mind sick from the Reclamation War were sent. They could deal with her.”

“For some Goddess-only-knows reason, the Purists attacked the Keep,” Marteen snarled.

“They killed everyone?” Rin asked, grappling with the news.

“Killed and burnt,” Marteen answered. Rin’s face was slack with shock.

“Ela’s dead?”

“What do you care?” Marteen snapped, “After what you did to her.” Marteen never saw the punch. All he knew was there were suddenly stars in his eyes, a pain across his jaw, and the cold ground on his back. Rin stood over Marteen with a dark look in his eyes.

“Damn it all, she was my sister too!” Rin screamed at the elf. Marteen saw the tears streaming down Rin’s face. “Ral’s betrayal broke her. None of us saw that – including me. I never blamed her for what she did. I didn’t want to hurt her like that. I was just protecting…” Rin paused, his jaw working.

“She was the one person on this whole damned continent I knew didn’t betray me.” Rin grabbed the front of Marteen’s shirt and glared into the elf’s eyes. “If you ever say that sheep dung to me again-” Rin was cut off as Marteen embraced him. Both men stood there for long minutes and quietly wept for the woman that had been their sister. Soon Kurt joined his son and his best friend in their grief.

Chapter Seven

What makes the saga of the Heroes resonate so deeply within our spirit? It is, after all, a tale of those who emerged from the periphery, cast aside by society, yet found their destiny intertwined on a grand quest to restore the Crystal Blood. Consider the remarkable assembly of Kurt Volker, his son Rin, and the Madrigal siblings. Volker, once a loyal retainer to the illustrious Lord Ranier, found himself dismissed in the aftermath of the Night of Fire and Blood for taking in an orphaned boy. Yet fate wove its intricate tapestry, bringing Marteen and Ela Madrigal—two of the most celebrated figures of the Reclamation War—to toil on Volker’s farm in the dwarven lands. There, in the quietude of rural life, they formed an unlikely family unit, with Volker assuming the role of a surrogate patriarch. His foster son, Rin, embraced the Madrigals as his own kin, calling them brother and sister. Such a convergence of disparate lives, rising to heroic prominence, defies the conventional bounds of storytelling. As the adage goes, truth possesses a liberty that fiction cannot, for fiction is bound by the constraints of narrative rules. Thus, the Heroes’ saga illuminates the profound journey of transformation and unity, drawing forth the eternal themes that lie at the heart of the elven condition. – Scholar Atti, excerpted from the article, “Examining the Heroes’ Saga”

RIN

Rin finished packing his saddlebags as Kurt covered the remains of the fire. Talking with Kurt dredged up some long-buried pain and anger. He thought hard about what Kurt said. As much as he hated to admit it, Kurt’s explanation made sense. The others could have been overwhelmed by all the craziness after they returned with the princess. Still, none of them noticed what was happening to him? He knew it was possible. He understood how it could happen. Yet, the hurt and anger was still there inside. Rin wasn’t sure what to do, but he was kind of happy talking with Kurt last night.

I guess I did want to know what happened to Kurt, Rin thought. The old dwarf swore as he straightened from burying the fire. He was much as Rin remembered him. For the past ten years, Rin felt betrayed by the man who raised him after his parents were murdered. Kurt should have been the one demanding those elven nobles respect Rin as much as the others. After last night, Rin was forced to face a hard truth. As worldly and wise Kurt always seemed, he was still just a man. A man who made mistakes. With everything happening at the time, Kurt didn’t purposefully push Rin away. He was just unaware. Perhaps the most startling truth of the night was when Rin realized he missed Kurt. Their relationship was nowhere near where it was before Rin left for Marei, but it was starting to heal.

“What’s the plan for today, son?” Kurt asked.

“The barkeep said the elves who met with Smythe sounded like nobles,” Rin said, “Unless things have radically changed in the last ten years, nobles are obligated to visit upon each other when they cross into each other’s lands.”

“This is Lord Valera’s lands. You’re thinking of looking for more information at his keep?” Kurt asked. Rin nodded. “Assuming the elves were nobles, why would they have stopped at Valera’s? Wouldn’t they have wanted to avoid notice?”

“Who do you think buys most of the contraband that comes into Black Cove?” Rin asked in return, “A noble coming to Black Cove to purchase some less-than-legal goods wouldn’t be out of place. A noble avoiding the obligations of nobility? That would draw unwanted attention.”

“It’s just as well. I need to talk with Lord Valera, anyways,” Kurt said.

“Does it have something to do with Marteen?” Rin asked.

“It’s probably better if you find out when we get there,” Kurt said. The two rode in silence for about an hour, but it wasn’t the tense silence from the previous night. It wasn’t the comfortable silences Rin remembered from his days on the farm, but somewhere in between. For the first time in a long time, memories of growing up on the farm didn’t hurt. As Rin rode down the road, he let himself remember the happy times. Particularly after Marteen and Ela came to live with them.

“What happened to the farm?” Rin asked.

“You remember Pieter? He married a girl from Riverrun, I think. They’re keeping it up and running their own flocks. Why do you ask?”

“Just reminiscing. I guess. It’s been a long time since I thought about the farm. I forgot how many happy times I had growing up there.”

“Particularly after you dragged Marteen to the farm and Ela followed a few months later.”

“I didn’t drag Marteen to the farm. He followed me there after that fight with those sheep thieves.”

“Ah, well, that might be true,” Kurt said, “Either way, those years were good for all of us. After what we talked about last night, I wish we could have all gone back there instead of Lisandra. It would have been good for you and Illana…”

“Don’t talk about her,” Rin interrupted.

“Why don’t you want to talk about her, son?” The familiar compassion in the dwarf’s voice stilled Rin’s immediate retort. Rin took a deep, calming breath before he answered.

“It’s like I have this ball of pain every time I hear her name. I can’t do my job with that churning through me.” Kurt studied him for a long moment before returning his gaze back to the dirt road.

“Could you do your old father a favor?”

“What?”

“Could you please explain the fascination your people have with that horrific smelling paste they smear all over bread?” Rin chuckled at the sudden change of subject. It was a relief just to talk about the differences between Mareian food, dwarven food, and the elven food in Lisandra.

After another couple of hours, the sloped walls of Valera Keep rose in the distance. Instead of the brilliantly colored crystal spires of the traditional jewel-spun buildings, Lord Valera’s keep was a star-shaped fortress of stone. It looked almost identical to the massive forts the Kingdom and Republic built along their border. It even had a moat. Rin and Kurt were stopped just as they turned off the main road. Four soldiers stood next to a small shack on the side of the gravel path leading to the keep. Rin handed his small leather portfolio with his credentials to the lead guard as the three other guards kept their halberds at the ready. The green-clad soldier studied the papers and the gold star. Rin took the chance to scan the grounds. Soft mowed grass covered the grounds in a rough circle about a couple hundred meters in diameter without as much as a shrub for cover. There was a wide winding gravel path leading from the main highway to the drawbridge.

“My sergeant needs to review these, sir,” the guard told Rin, “Please wait here.” The guard walked over to the shack and raised a purple signal flag on the shack’s flagpole.

“We could just show him our medallions and be done with it,” Kurt mused, sounding annoyed.

“I don’t think so,” Rin said, “It looks like the lord is expecting an attack. I doubt he’d take kindly to having a pair of Heroes of the Empire forcing their way in, even politely.”

“What do you mean ‘expecting an attack’?” asked Kurt, startled by Rin’s comment.

“The guards on the walls aren’t patrolling in regular intervals,” Rin said, “The guard here is alert and quick to call for assistance even if it might offend two Heroes. How much do you want to bet when their sergeant shows up, it’ll be at the head of a squad of heavy infantry?”

“It doesn’t make sense. Who would attack this keep?”

“Better question, why didn’t you tell me Marteen was here?” Rin asked. Kurt looked slightly abashed.

“Because of why he’s here,” Kurt answered. The dwarf sounded embarrassed and angry. He remembered that tone from the times Kurt marched him to one of the villagers to apologize. Usually after Rin did something stupid. He decided not to press Kurt further. He would find out in due course.

Lord Valera’s soldiers approached from the castle. Rin was right about the heavy infantry, but instead of a squad, an entire platoon of soldiers in glittering mail armor marched to the guardhouse. Green pennants fluttered from the soldiers’ halberds as the two lines moved swiftly down the gravel road. The commander was an elf with the long features and bearings of a noble, or at least noble-born.

“Hero Acciaio, Hero Volker, I am Lieutenant Rinura. Lord Valera welcomes you to his home,” the officer said with a low bow.

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Rin said turning back to the elf. “I need to speak with Lord Valera as soon as possible about a matter of some urgency. I believe Hero Volker also has something to discuss with the lord.”

“Of course, Hero Acciaio,” the lieutenant answered. “If you will follow me?” Rin and Kurt followed the lieutenant to the castle. As they neared, Rin was shocked to see shielded gun ports in the castle’s walls. Only the Imperial Army was supposed to have cannon. What crazy smuggler sold an elf lord cannon?

The soldiers escorting them peeled into fighting positions as they entered the main gate. The gate was a seven-meter long, three-meter-high tunnel that went from the drawbridge directly to the main courtyard. From the massive doors and portcullises at each end, Rin guessed any vanguard of an attacking force would be trapped in a killing tunnel. This keep would be a tough nut to crack for a Republican or Kingdom army. What concerned this Lord Valera so much that he built and manned such a fortress?

“Please wait here, Heroes, Lord Valera will be with you presently,” the lieutenant said as they entered the courtyard. The elf dashed through a door on the far side before Rin or Kurt could say anything. Kurt grumbled as he dismounted from his sturdy pony. Rin scanned the edge of the courtyard. At least a dozen crossbowmen stood atop the walls watching them. Was Valera foolish enough to kill two Heroes of the Empire? Rin slid off his horse and placed his hand close to his rifle.

“What under the Protector’s Gaze is going on?” Rin asked Kurt.

“That is what I would like to know,” a deep voice boomed across the courtyard. Kurt looked uneasy at the voice. Rin turned to face the speaker. The elf was tall, easily reaching two hundred and twenty-five centimeters with those long legs every elf seemed to possess. Long and sharply chiseled features were accentuated by shoulder length brown hair hanging loosely. Brown eyes flashed in righteous anger. He wore the traditional flowing breeches, shirt, and cape of a noble. All were in shades of green with heavy gold and silver embroidery. A long rapier was belted at his waist.

“Lord Valera, I presume?”

“The infamous Hero Acciaio. My constables informed me you attacked an innkeeper in my town, and killed two patrons,” Lord Valera said, “Would you care to defend your actions?” Rin just stared at Lord Valera silently for a long moment. The noble’s hands and eyes twitched just a bit too much. His anger was just a bit too forced.

“Elven nobles came through your lands less than a week ago,” Rin said, calmly. “I have good information they left Black Cove with a blond human man. Who were the nobles?” Valera’s eyes grew wide.

“What about my two subjects you slew?” Valera demanded again. Rin studied the lord for a long moment.

“What about them? The barkeep should have cooperated. Instead, he set a couple of his regulars on me. They failed,” Rin answered calmly. “A Black Cove barkeep should know better. He should be grateful I only hurt him and didn’t just kill him like his friends. Now, under the treaty between the Republic of Marei and the Jeweled Empire, you are required to cooperate with my hunt. Who were the nobles?” Valera’s face went pale before visibly composing himself. He smiled insincerely in true noble fashion.

“The innkeeper mentioned your nobles and the human to my retainers when they appeared at the Poison Well. Whoever they were, they didn’t present themselves to me.”

“And you didn’t find this strange?”

“I made some inquiries, but no one else remembered seeing them. I just chalked it up to Seran having a little too much of his house vintage. I mean, honestly, what would nobles want with a human?”

“Humans and elves have worked together before, my lord,” Rin said.

“May I ask what this human did that dragged a ranger all the way to my keep?” Lord Valera asked. Rin stared at the lord for a long moment.

“No,” Rin said. Lord Valera glared at Rin, but he ignored it. Time to deal with the other issue.

“Why is Hero Madrigal in your keep?”

“Hero Volker didn’t tell you?” Lord Valera asked, motioning at Kurt.

“Why don’t you tell me?” Rin asked, the barest hint of menace in his voice. “From your point of view.”

“Hero Madrigal burst into my home and accused me of selling guns to the Purists,” Lord Valera, “When I didn’t give him the answer he wanted, he attacked me and injured several of my retainers. My soldiers subdued him before he could cause more damage. I was informed by the Crystal Palace that Hero Volker was sent to negotiate for his release.” Rin looked over at Kurt. The dwarf stood frozen with his face twisted in silent frustration. Rin looked back at Lord Valera. The elf lord looked too smug. Sweet Protector, he hated these political games.

“You will release Hero Madrigal to my custody now,” Rin said.

“Excuse me?” The smug look was replaced by affronted shock.

“You will release Hero Madrigal into my custody,” Rin repeated. “As a Hero of the Empire, it’s within my rights to demand the services of any noble in the performance of my duty. I require Hero Madrigal for my hunt.”

“Why would I even consider it?”

“Because this is one of those nobility games, and I don’t have time for it. Besides, I know you’re selling guns.”

“I was willing to overlook your actions in Black Cove. They are expected of someone with your organization’s reputation. However, I will not have anyone cast aspersions on my honor in my own home. I already have one Hero of the Empire in my custody for unfounded accusations.”

“Lord Valera, I am not some drunken fool of a swordsman. I’m a Mareian ranger in the middle of a hunt. You’ve answered my questions, and I appreciate your cooperation. Once you turn over Hero Madrigal, I will have completed all I need to do in your lands and have no further interest in any of your dealings. Are you going to force me to take further interest?” The last words were cold enough to visibly chill the noble. Sometimes the ranger mythos was useful.

“You make a convincing point, Ranger Acciaio. Hero Madrigal will be released to your custody. He’s probably sobered up enough that he may be able to walk on his own,” Lord Valera said, motioning go one of his retainers. “As is my right under Imperial law, since both you and he have brought harm and injury to my subjects, I ask that you depart from my lands as quickly as possible and not return without an Imperial writ.”

“Of course, my lord,” Rin said. Kurt grabbed Rin’s arm.

“That man is responsible for selling guns to not only criminals, but to the Purists!” Kurt whispered angrily.

“We’ll talk about this later,” Rin said in a quiet voice.

“Why did you agree to leave his lands without arresting him or something?” Kurt asked, nearly apoplectic. “I thought you were some kind of constable.”

“Not now,” Rin whispered angrily. Kurt wanted to say more, but yelling across the courtyard stopped their conversation. Marteen emerged as two soldiers prodded him with halberds. He looked much as Rin expected. Marteen’s long brown hair was greasy and unkempt, brown eyes were bloodshot, and his normally tall body was stooped with fatigue. Marteen was dressed in only a pair of soiled breeches that may have been tan at one time. Familiar scars crisscrossed his torso. Marteen’s medallion hung loosely around his neck on an iron chain. Manacles were clamped on each wrist and each ankle.

Marteen blinked as he stepped into the courtyard, as if he hadn’t seen the sun for some time. He looked sober enough, with maybe the early hints of a hangover. In Rin’s experience, it was probably about four days since Marteen’s last drink. It usually took Marteen that long to dry out from one of his alcohol-fueled rampages. Marteen spied Rin and Kurt. He gave them both his familiar grin. No, the hangover hadn’t set in quite yet. Something to look forward to. The soldiers cautiously removed the manacles. Marteen gave them evil looks as he rubbed his wrists. Then, as if nothing was wrong, Marteen straightened and walked over to Rin and Kurt.

“Goddess of Light, is that you, Rin?” Marteen boomed before clapping Rin soundly on the back. “Damn, you got old. Must be you though. This thing started thumping something fierce this morning. So, Sonya sent you to fetch me?” Rin grimaced as Marteen’s sour breath wafted over.

“As I have promised,” Lord Valera said. Rin could see the concern in the elf lord’s eyes. He wanted them gone from his home and lands as quickly as possible.

“Where are his clothes, his effects, and his sword?” Rin asked.

“He’s wearing what clothes not destroyed in his altercation with my soldiers,” Lord Valera answered. “Everything else except his medallion and sword was sold to take care of the men he injured and repair the damage he did to my home. The sword was sent back to Lisandra as proof he was here when I offered to negotiate for his release.” Rin looked down at Marteen. The elf just gave him a confident smile.

“I see,” Rin said. He turned to the smiling Marteen. “He can’t travel like this. We’ll have to go back to Black Cove to get you at least some clothes.”

“I would be more than happy to provide Hero Madrigal with some basic clothing,” Lord Valera said, quickly. “In return for a small favor, of course.”

“What would that favor be?” Rin asked, cautiously.

“To deliver a message to Lady Sonya,” Lord Valera answered. Rin contemplated for a moment. He wasn’t sure who this Lady Sonya was, but it must be someone high up in the Imperial government.

“One of us will make sure your message is delivered,” Rin said, looking pointedly at Kurt. He certainly had no intention of going anywhere near the capital unless absolutely necessary.

“My thanks,” Lord Valera said, and motioned to one of his soldiers. The elf dropped a wrapped package at Marteen’s feet. Rin looked at the package for a moment.

So, this was the point of locking up Marteen. Bring someone out here of sufficient importance to bring back a message. I hate elven politics. Rin wasn’t sure what was Lord Valera’s goal, but he was sure it wasn’t something good.

“The message?” Rin asked, nonchalantly. He could probably send Kurt and Marteen off to deliver it while he continued hunting Smythe.

“Would you please inform Lady Sonya I will not be able to support her with my attendance in the Diet at this time?” Lord Valera asked, “With the Purist activity so high, I don’t feel I could leave my lands at this time. I would feel much better returning to Lisandra if the Frontier Army was more vigorous in rooting out those people.”

“Of course, Lord Valera,” Kurt said, “I must warn you Lady Sonya will be most displeased by your absence.”

“I can weather her displeasure,” Lord Valera replied, “Just as I have weathered her displeasure when I detained Hero Madrigal. What I cannot weather is that rabble running loose on my lands. Of course, if conditions were to change, I would re-evaluate my position.”

“I understand your position,” Kurt said. “I will discuss it with Lady Sonya.”

“Excellent. Now, if you will kindly be about your business and leave my lands?” The three Heroes let themselves be escorted out of the keep and back to the road.

Chapter 6

The relations betwixt the elven and dwarven races were ever fraught with contention. Both being long-lived species, they exhibited a gradual evolution in terms of technology and philosophy. The relatively peaceful co-existence they achieved in the two decades preceding the Daemon War stands as a notable accomplishment. One is left to ponder how their relations might have progressed absent the calamitous destruction suffered by the Jeweled Empire during the war. Had the war not so thoroughly discredited the elves’ perception of themselves as preeminent among the intelligent races, one must question whether there would have been a popular clamor to reassert their dominion by subjugating their dwarven neighbors and relegating them to the status of second-class citizens within the Jeweled Empire. Though attitudes towards the dwarves have indeed improved—especially after two among their number played pivotal roles in the restoration of the Crystal Blood—the dwarves remain wary when venturing beyond their ancestral territories. Thus, the historical narrative is shaped by these complex interplays of power, prejudice, and the inexorable march of time. – Foreword from “Modern Commentaries” by Scholar Gemina Res

KURT

Kurt Volker ignored the disgusted looks from the elves in the public house as he collected his food and drink from the counter. Dwarves were used to dealing with elven disdain. Not that all elves were bad people. Most of Kurt’s dearest friends were elves. If he thought all elves were incorrigible louts, Kurt wouldn’t have served the Imperial government for the past ten years. Still, by and large, dealing with elves outside his friends tried his patience. Worse, the elves in this public house were low-class. They reveled in their supposed superiority. Kurt sat back down and took a sip of the watered-down ale.

Ten years. Ten years since Kurt last set eyes on the boy. No, Rin wouldn’t be a boy anymore. Humans sprouted up fast like elves. Unlike elves though, humans kept right on aging like a spring plant. Dwarves were more like trees. They took a long time to age. Kurt looked much the same as he did ten years ago. His hair was still the same brown. The few gray whiskers in his neatly trimmed beard were there well before the boy disappeared. If anything, those whiskers were caused by Rin’s various misadventures. On the other hand, Kurt was maybe a bit stouter than when Rin last saw him. Too much time playing diplomat in Lisandra. Too much fine food and drink and not enough honest work. Kurt hoped the carefully tailored clothes and fine cloak hid some of his recently gained girth.

Kurt’s mind dwelled on when he found the small, dirty boy amid the terror gripping Lisandra almost thirty years ago. Rin was the only good thing to come out of the Night of Blood and Fire. Kurt was sent out by Lord Ranier to save as many dwarves living in Lisandra as he could. So many were murdered by the mobs before Kurt could reach them. All he saved were three silversmiths and their immediate families – and one human boy. Kurt left Lord Ranier’s service to raise the boy. It took a while for the people in his home village to become accustomed to Rin. Fortunately, Rin was Rin. The boy’s cheerful attitude converted all but one or two of the stalwart farmers. Rin wasn’t a perfect boy, but he was a hard worker and always willing to help. To anyone who knew him, Rin was always happy. Even when they were nearly killed so many times during their adventures to bring back the princess. Then he just disappeared. Just vanished without so much as a note. It wasn’t until almost two days later Kurt found out the boy left on a ship to the Republic. The pain and confusion of why Rin decided to leave wracked Kurt for months afterward.

Kurt cleared his head with a shake. Human boys needed to find their own way in the world. That’s what everyone said. Rin would find his way back home when it was time, just like he promised. Much to his shame, Kurt wasn’t sure Rin would return home. Not until Kurt felt Rin’s pulses reappear in the medallion. The promise guided the boy. How else to explain Rin’s sudden appearance in the medallion’s pulsing close to where Kurt’s duties brought him. Marteen could wait a bit longer. It was that own elf’s fault anyway he was where he was. Kurt followed the pulses to Black Cove.

Kurt was surprised Rin was coming to such a disreputable area instead of Lisandra. Maybe Rin was a smuggler. Kurt wouldn’t have thought it possible, but he didn’t know what happened to Rin in those human lands. Kurt didn’t even consider Rin became a pirate. The boy was too honorable. Contraband was one thing, but stealing and murdering from innocent traders? No, the boy couldn’t have changed that much.

The apple slice slipped from Kurt’s hand as the medallion pulsed like thunder. He took a few deep breaths. Rin was home. The boy would know Kurt was here and waiting for him. He absentmindedly brushed his cloak and beard. Anxiety pulsed through Kurt stronger than the medallion. He berated himself for acting like a foolish old man. Still, Rin was finally home. Soon, he would walk through that door. The two would embrace like a father and son should. They would have the night to reminisce about good times. It wasn’t like Marteen was going anywhere. It wasn’t Kurt’s fault the bloody, drunken fool of an elf managed to land himself in trouble. Again. Granted, Kurt would have to deal with that afterwards, but after Rin and he had a nice long chat. Even Marteen wouldn’t complain.

As the hours grew later, anxiety got the better of Kurt. He still felt Rin’s presence in Black Cove. Was he avoiding Kurt? No, that didn’t make sense. Why would Rin avoid his father? The boy was carousing with his crew. That made sense. If Rin was a smuggler, he would need to keep up appearances before sneaking away to join Kurt. Those books from the human lands made such things clear. Smuggler crews were close, like soldiers. Kurt understood that bond from his years serving in Lord Ranier’s guard. Kurt gulped the brandy to settle his nerves. God of Iron, he was a hardened veteran of too many battles to be this nervous. Finally, Kurt felt Rin coming closer. A wave of relief washed over him. Kurt sat up straighter as he felt Rin standing just outside the pub.

The human who walked through the door looked very little like the boy Kurt remembered. All the soft, boyish features were now hard and angular. Rin’s face was leaner and covered with dark stubble. The long hair was gone, replaced with a short, soldier’s cut. The green eyes that always sparkled like emeralds were now cold. There was a new long scar on Rin’s right cheek. The boy grew to a bit over six feet tall. Still shorter than the elves around him, but a good eight inches on Kurt. A long brown coat hung past Rin’s knees and covered the odd blue tunic and gray slacks. Where had he seen those clothes before? Kurt lips tightened as Rin pulled back the coat to reveal the gun on his hip. Kurt shuddered involuntarily at the sight of such a human weapon.

Kurt waved to his son, but if Rin saw, he ignored it. Kurt sat back down bewildered and hurt as Rin strode up to the bar. The barkeep was aghast that a human stood in his public house. The murmuring from the patrons wasn’t friendly either. Black Cove was strictly segregated. There were only a few areas where humans and elves mingled, and this public house wasn’t one.

As Rin stepped up to the bar, the barkeep shouted something in Mariean and gestured to the door. Kurt understood the language, but he was sitting too far away to make out what the barkeep said. Mareian words tended to sound alike unless Kurt paid close attention. Rin’s expression didn’t change.

“I think you have served a human,” Rin replied in Imperial. His voice was a much deeper baritone than Kurt remembered. Kurt grimaced as he heard the boy throw in a hint of a noble’s accent. Rin knew how offensive that was to elves. The boy always pushed just a bit too far. Why couldn’t he have grown out of that habit? The room went dangerously quiet.

“Screw off, round-ear,” the barkeep said, switching to a much coarser Imperial, “I don’t care if you can speak the proper language. I don’t want your coin. You’re bothering my customers with your stink.” Some of the elves muttered in agreement. One let out a muffled chuckle.

“I wouldn’t eat or drink anything in this Protector-forsaken place unless I felt like spending the next three days in bed,” Rin said, matter-of-factly, “Unfortunately for me, the human I’m hunting came here. Now, since I’m supposed to be polite, I’ll do you the favor of offering some coin for the information.” Rin slapped down three, heavy gold coins on the bar.

“Do us both a favor. Accept the coin and answer my questions.” The barkeep’s eyes went wide with fear at Rin’s words. Kurt was confused. What did Rin mean about hunting? Hunting what?

“I don’t serve humans,” the barkeep said, just a bit too quickly. The barkeep looked over Rin’s shoulder at two men sitting near the bar. They stood up from their table with murderous glares. From their weapons and stances, these two weren’t run of the mill thugs. Probably Reclamation veterans. Each had maybe ten inches and three stone on Rin. The two elves drew their swords and moved to opposite sides of the boy. So, not only ex-soldiers, but they knew how to fight together.

Patrons scampered out of the way. Rin looked over at the two elves, giving each a cursory inspection. Rin turned to the two elves with an annoyed expression on his face. A familiar fear shot through Kurt. He felt it anytime he watched Rin fight. Granted, Rin fought against worse odds before, but at least his own weapons were drawn.

“This isn’t your fight,” Rin said, “Sit back down and enjoy your drinks. Otherwise, things get bad for you.” Where did Rin learn that command voice?

“I’ve always wondered how such small people believe they’re our equals,” the bigger one said.

“You won’t like finding out.”

“You don’t look hard to kill,” the elf said.

“A lot of dead men said the same thing.”

The smaller elf circled behind Rin and attacked. Kurt saw the brilliant flash of flame and heard the ear-splitting roar before he realized Rin drew the firearm. Burnt brimstone and coppery blood odors filled the room. The second boom deafened the dwarf. As the gray smoke dispersed, both elves lay dead on the floor, blood pooling under the bodies. Rin grabbed the barkeep by the neck. With a quick jerk, Rin yanked the elf over the bar.

“Of all the Protector-damned stupid things to do!” Rin yelled loud enough for Kurt to hear through his ringing ears. “You got both of those men killed for nothing!” Rin whipped the gun’s barrel across the barkeep’s face. The barkeep sputtered in broken Mareian.

“Quit lying to me!” Rin hit the barkeep again. Blood flowed down from the barkeep’s mouth.

The glint of a dagger drew Kurt’s eyes as another patron started to stand. The elf didn’t see Kurt step next to him. Kurt’s massive hand clamped down on the elf’s wrist and squeezed. The elf let out a startled yelp of pain as the dagger clattered to the floor. Rin looked back and locked eyes with Kurt. There was no happiness, or even gratitude, in those green eyes. Only frustration. A deeper pain than Kurt had ever known lanced through him. Rin returned his glare to the barkeep.

“A human!” Rin barked at the barkeep, “Blond hair. Dark clothing. May have called himself Smythe.” Rin backhanded the barkeep. “Tell me everything you know now! Do not make me kill anyone else!”

“Let him up,” a new voice ordered. An elf walked out from behind the bar pointing a crossbow at Rin. Two more were in the door with swords drawn. All wore the green armbands of the local constables.

“Not a chance,” Rin snarled at the constable, “I’m a Mareian ranger on a hunt. This one has information on my quarry. Go back outside and let me do my job.” The constable tightened his grip on the crossbow. The room was silent except for the stifled sobs of the barkeep.

“Stop pointing that crossbow at a Hero of the Empire!” Kurt ordered. All three constables reflexively lowered their weapons as they stared at Kurt in shock. Kurt took a step forward and pulled his medallion out. It gleamed in the dim light of the public house.

“I am Hero Volker, and that is Hero Acciaio,” Kurt declared. “Do not interfere in Hero business!” The constables snapped to attention. Rin shot Kurt an angry look.

“Rin Acciaio?” the crossbowman asked incredulously, staring at Rin, “Rin Acciaio’s a dwarf.” Rin’s head turned slowly and locked on the constable.

“What do you mean, a dwarf?” Rin asked, his words dangerously enunciating the last words.

“Rin Acciaio, the dwarf archer as good as an elf,” the constable answered, “That’s how I’ve always heard it. The Heroes of the Empire who rescued the last of the Crystal Blood. Jevin Folim the disgraced Crystal Guard who led the Heroes, Selene Onale the scholar who found the prophecies, Marteen Madrigal the greatest swordmaster of his generation, his sister Ela the hunter who could track anyone, Sasha Tikeri the mercenary, Pallus Parn the nobling, Trennis Permstar the courtier, Kurt Volker the dwarven champion, his son Rin Acciaio, and Ral Evaster the betrayer.” Rin’s head whipped to Kurt with an accusing look. Kurt just nodded. There would be time to explain later.

“Well, I’m not a dwarf, whatever you heard. Now be good little constables and leave so I can finish my interrogation,” Rin said. The three constables retreated out of the bar with a surprising haste. As soon as they were out of sight, the patrons stampeded for the door. The few too drunk to waddle out of the public house slithered under their tables. None wanted to be in the same room as two Heroes of the Empire, especially when one was clearly enraged. Rin waited for the running to finish.

“Rin,” Kurt said.

“Not now,” Rin cut him off. He lifted the barkeep off the floor and slammed the man up against the wall. “You were telling me about the human.”

“Are you really Rin Acciaio?” the barkeep asked in a terrified voice. Rin returned his pistol to its small scabbard on his belt and pulled the medallion from under his shirt. The barkeep took one look at the gold disc and swallowed hard.

“They gave me money not to say anything,” the barkeep stammered, “The human met them here. They talked in the back.”

“Who’s ‘they?’” Rin asked, his voice cold and emotionless.

“No names, but they were nobles,” the barkeep answered, eagerly. “Paid in full Imperials.”

“Did the human leave with them?” Rin asked. The barkeep nodded furiously. “Where did they go?”

“I don’t know,” the barkeep said. Rin tightened his grip. “I swear to the Goddess, I don’t know! They didn’t say, and I was careful not to pay attention.” Rin stared intently into the barkeep’s eyes. Rin tossed the man to the floor. Kurt stood dumbfounded as Rin strode to the door. Rin paused at the doorway. He turned back and looked at Kurt.

“You coming?” Rin asked, impatiently. Kurt stared as Rin turned and walked out of the inn. After a moment, Kurt shook himself and trotted after Rin. The boy was untying his horse like nothing had happened.

“What under the God of Iron was that?” Kurt demanded, storming down on Rin.

“That won’t work anymore Kurt,” Rin said, “I’m not that boy anymore.”

“Who are you then?” Kurt demanded, “The Rin I knew wouldn’t beat a man bloody for information.”

“I have a job to do. I will do whatever I need to do to finish my job and go home.”

“You are home,” Kurt said.

“No, I’m not.”

“What about Illana?”

“The Protector damn Illana,” Rin said. His words were cold enough to chill the dwarf’s bones. Without another word, Rin climbed on his horse. Kurt stood on the pub’s step agape as Rin started riding away. After a few moment, Kurt pulled himself together and climbed onto his own horse.

Kurt trailed Rin for the rest of the day. He thought he would have all his questions answered. Why did Rin disappear ten years ago? Where had he gone? What had he been doing since then? Instead of answers, Kurt was left with more far more difficult questions. Who was this man Rin had become? What turned him so hard? And worst of all, how could Rin say that about Illana?

It was Rin’s life in the Republic of Marei. Kurt read how brutal things were in the human lands. That might even explain why he reacted that way at the mention of Illana’s name. As he continued to ride, Kurt reached a hard conclusion. Kurt did something to drive the person he cared for the most in the world into the clutches of those who twisted him into a person Kurt couldn’t recognize. The very idea was almost too painful to contemplate. As the daylight faded into dark, Kurt decided he needed answers. They might be painful, but the uncertainty was tearing him apart.

Kurt hesitated when he saw the campsite and the cookfire. Collecting every scrap of courage he could muster Kurt rode into the camp. Rin looked up from the fire as Kurt neared. He didn’t say anything as Kurt dismounted, tended to his pony, grabbed his saddlebags, and walked stiffly over to the fire. Rin just tended to the rabbit roasting on the spit. The two sat in silence. After a long while, Rin wordlessly handed Kurt a tin cup. The dwarf gratefully accepted. Peering into the cup, he saw it filled with coffee with just a hint of cream. The boy remembered. Maybe that was a hopeful sign. Kurt took a long gulp of the scalding liquid as Rin divided up the rabbit. The two ate in silence. To Kurt’s surprise, it was Rin who spoke first.

“Of all the places in the Empire, why did you have to be in that public house?” Rin asked.

“I haven’t seen or heard from you in ten years,” Kurt answered, “I needed to see my son. I needed to know what happened to you.” Rin stared wordlessly into the fire. It was a familiar mannerism. The boy did that when he didn’t want to look at someone. Kurt braced himself and asked the question.

“What happened to you?” Kurt asked, “You just vanished without a word. Not even a note. What did I do to make you leave?” Rin locked eyes with Kurt. The green eyes danced with anger and pain. Kurt pushed down the sudden tightness in his throat.

“Nothing. You did nothing,” Rin said, his voice a hoarse whisper.

“If I didn’t do anything, then why did you leave?”

“You didn’t need me anymore, Kurt. None of you did. We rescued Illana, brought her back to Lisandra, and what happened? All of you were showered with rewards. You were given positions in the Empire. Not me. Not the human. I was ignored – and none of you said a thing. Not a damn thing.”

Kurt’s mind raced back to the days after their group finally made it back to the capital. The days after returning Illana to the Crystal Palace were a blur. The entire population of Lisandra erupted into an almost constant celebration. Kurt was dragged into endless discussions of how the dwarves would fit into this new era with the return of the Crystal Blood. Rin was there, but Kurt couldn’t remember what the boy was doing. Was Rin pushed to the side? To Kurt’s eternal shame, he just couldn’t remember.

“Son, I am so sorry,” Kurt said. The last bits of rabbit fell to the ground as Kurt slumped down and sobbed. “I swear, I didn’t realize what was happening to you. We were all so busy, and I just assumed you were busy as well or with Illana. I wish you told me. I didn’t want you going away. I never wanted that. I didn’t want you to become…” Kurt’s voice trailed as he saw the cold look on Rin’s face.

“Become what, Kurt?” Rin asked. The flat tone was all the more stinging for its lack of anger. “I’m proud of my life since I went back home. I’m a Mareian ranger. I did that all on my own. I wasn’t following some stupid prophecy. I was choosing my own path. My own life.”

“Please, Rin, I wasn’t trying to insult you. Before I saw you walk into that public house, all I could remember was the happy, little boy who dragged me all over the Granite Mountains. Then all the sudden, you killed two men and beat and threatened that barkeep.”

“It’s not the first time you’ve seen me kill, Kurt,” Rin replied, sharply.

“This was different. I’ve seen you kill in the heat of combat. Back in the public house? There was a coldness I’ve never seen in you. It was shocking.” Rin sat quietly for several minutes. Kurt focused on what he could salvage of his dinner. Did he say the wrong thing and drive Rin further away?

“So why do they think I’m a dwarf?” Rin asked, breaking the silence. The non sequitur jarred Kurt. He looked deep into his coffee cup before answering.

“I don’t know where it started. It took root before we heard it in the Crystal Palace. At first, I corrected anyone who said you were a dwarf. No one listened. No one wanted to believe a human would fight alongside dwarves and elves. And no one believed a human could use a bow better than an elf. A dwarf was somehow more believable. I knew when you returned to fulfill the promise, that would be put an end to it.”

“Kurt, I didn’t come back because of the promise. I’m here because a human sorcerer is tinkering around with some very evil magic. I’m here to find him and bring him back to the Republic.”

“Rin, you promised her,” Kurt said, shaken by Rin’s words, “You looked her in her eyes, and promised you’d be with her when it was time for her to assume the throne.”

“I was a kid when we made that promise. A stupid kid who didn’t know what the Empire really was. I’m not that stupid kid anymore, and I’m damn sure not going to honor a promise to help the damned Empire.”

“Pallus is the same age as you,” Kurt retorted angrily, “He understood what was being asked of him.” Rin’s eyes lit with rage.

“Let me be clear. The Empire made it clear it didn’t owe me anything for helping to return Illana. I don’t owe the Empire, or her, one damned thing.” Kurt bit down his retort. Instincts honed as a diplomat over the past decade told him to calm down and look at it from Rin’s point of view. If what the boy said was true, then of course Rin felt betrayed. If the Empire betrayed him, why should Kurt expect Rin to feel any loyalty to the Empire, or the person expected to embody the spirit of the Empire? Kurt let out a long breath. This wasn’t an issue that was going to be resolved tonight.

“Rin, please, I’m trying to take in everything you just told me,” Kurt said, “I haven’t seen you for so long. I don’t want to spend our first night arguing.” Rin pursed his lips and nodded silently. Kurt smiled at his son.

“So, tell me, what exactly is a ranger? Marteen described them as fearsome cavalry troopers, but the ones at the embassy act more like constables.”

“We’re both. Sort of,” Rin answered, giving Kurt a genuine smile. “Originally, the rangers patrolled the steppe along the border with the Northern Kingdom. We were forced to be both soldiers and lawmen for the frontier towns and farms. About ten years before the Daemon War, some Senators tried to overthrow the Republic and set themselves up as a cabal. The legions, the constables, even the personal guards of the Senators – all of them were paralyzed. It was the rangers who rode into Marei City, killed the usurpers, and returned control to the Senate. After that, the rangers were officially charged with upholding Mareian law and borders.”

“So, the rangers sent you after this sorcerer because they knew you grew up in this part of the world?” Kurt asked.

“No,” Rin answered around a mouthful of rabbit. Kurt gave his son an old-fashioned look. Rin just shrugged. “He did the ritual in my patrol area, it’s my responsibility. So, now I’m hunting him down to bring him back.”

“What kind of ritual would make you go across the sea to get him?” Kurt asked.

“I don’t know, but he murdered eighteen people to fuel it,” Rin said. Kurt choked on the coffee.

“Eighteen people?” Kurt asked. “And you have no idea what the ritual was for?”

“No. The demon helping the sorcerer didn’t even know.”

“God of Iron, you talked to a demon?” Kurt asked.

“They’re just part of the Badlands, Kurt,” Rin replied.

“Wait, the Badlands?” Kurt asked, his eyes nearly popping out of his head, “That place Marteen only talks about when he’s really drunk?” Rin nodded as he sipped his mug of coffee.

“Honestly, it’s not nearly as bad as Marteen’s stories make it out to be,” Rin said. “I wouldn’t raise a family there, but it’s not the terror-filled land he describes.”

“How can you say that? I remember Marteen’s stories. Two thousand soldiers of the Reclamation Army marched into those lands and only twenty elves walked out – none were ever quite right afterwards. Including Marteen. How do you not go insane?”

“The Badlands doesn’t affect humans like it does elves,” Rin answered. “Besides, most of those elves died from dehydration, not from going insane.” Kurt took a long sip of his coffee as he grappled with what Rin told him. Not just about why he left, but what he had been doing back in the human lands.

“Why don’t you get some sleep Kurt? I’ll take the first watch.” Kurt gratefully accepted the offer and trudged over to his bedroll. Sleep was elusive as his thoughts kept hammering through him.

Chapter 5

I don’t know if I can adequately explain why the Night of Fire and Blood happened, Mr. Ambassador, but I will try. It is important to understand the depth of feeling among the population when the infant princess was born. She was the promise for the healing of the Jeweled Empire. Her kidnapping shattered that hope among everyone, but particularly among the commons. As commons, they had no other way to express such base emotions. It was very unfortunate that it was the dwarven and human residents of Lisandra who were the primary victims. – Ambassador Rela during the initial negotiations for re-opening trade between the Jeweled Empire and the Republic of Marei

RIN

A day later, Rin was on a ship to the Jeweled Empire. Bruno didn’t get the sorcerer’s name, but he found the ship the sorcerer boarded and where he was heading. Bruno was surprised that the locals did remember the odd man wanting passage to Black Cove. According to the people Bruno talked to, the sorcerer acted like he got his information about Fools Port and smugglers from a paper novel. Most of the smuggler crews brushed off the sorcerer because they didn’t trust him. One of them finally agreed to take him to Black Cove at an exorbitant cost. The man didn’t even bother haggling, which caused a lot of talk down around the docks.

Rin hated the ocean. He hated the smell and the constant rocking. His father’s family made their livelihoods on the sea for generations. The blood that yearned for the spray of the ocean skipped him. Nausea kept him from eating much since walking on to the ship, which didn’t help his mood.

Neither did the medallion pulsing happily as the Sea Dancer slipped through the waves to the Jeweled Empire. Rin grasped the small gold disc from beneath his shirt. It was a few centimeters in diameter and thick like a Kingdom guilden coin. One side was inscribed with the thanks of a grateful empire. That turned out to be a lie. On the other side was the promise to return. He looked hard at those elven words. Pain and anger threatened to rise up from where he buried it. As far as Rin was concerned, that promise was broken a decade ago. He was only going to the Empire to find the sorcerer and bring him to justice. Everything on that continent could burn as far as Rin was concerned. He thought about throwing the medallion into the sea, but his hand stopped as soon as he started to take it off. The flash of a familiar face in his mind’s eye stayed his hand.

A soft cough startled Rin. He tucked the medallion back under his shirt before turning to face the ship’s ancient sailing master. There was something familiar about the wizened man, but Rin couldn’t place it. The man was short and stooped, with a few whisps of gray hair peeking out from under a weathered top hat. He gave Rin a toothless smile and straightened his worn topcoat.

“Captain’s compliments, and we should be in Black Cove tomorrow afternoon,” the sailing master said, “Provided the Protector continues to send us the good winds like He has.” Dutifully, the sailing master fingers danced in the Sign of the Protector.

“Thank you,” Rin answered politely.

“If you don’t mind me saying so, this should be an interesting homecoming for you, sir,” the sailing master said quietly. The words jolted Rin.

“Excuse me?” Rin asked, his voice dropping to a warning tone.

“You don’t remember me, but I remember you,” the sailing master said, giving Rin another wide smile. “Of course, forgetting you would be hard. You’re a spitting image of your poppa.” The sailing master gave Rin a knowing look.

“You knew my father?” Rin asked, surprised by the man’s words.

“Everyone who did business with the pointy-ears before the Night of Fire and Blood knew your poppa. Man was a genius trader. He knew every elf merchant in the city and kept us out of trouble too many times to count. When those bastards lynched your folks, the crews of all the Mareian ships in Lisandra Bay were ready to charge into the city to get revenge. If those elf soldiers didn’t stop us, that is. Of course, we thought you were dead too at the time.” Most of Rin’s memories of his parents were just fragments. Except for that night. Those were crystal clear. The terror of his parents’ screams as the mob hacked them apart. Rin’s breathless run to find help. Finding that help. Rin stomped down on that last one. He wasn’t ready to think about the old dwarf yet.

“Sorry, son. I didn’t mean to drudge up bad memories,” the sailing master said, breaking Rin’s reveille. “I just remembered how happy Captain Lucius was when you turned up alive. Fifteen years after the Night of Blood and Fire, and there you were, standing on that dock in Lisandra, asking for passage back to the Republic with a bag of elf gold.” Rin’s mind clicked on when he’d seen the sailing master before.

“You were on the Consuls’ Trader!” Rin said, astonished at the turn of fate that brought the two of them back together again.

“Oh, aye. Before your grandmother – that dark-hearted bitch, if you’ll excuse me from saying so – blacklisted us all for ferrying you back,” the sailing master said. “We heard you and her parted ways, uh, less than amicably shall we say, before she decided to make us all pay for it.”

“You mean when she declared vendetta?” Rin replied, with dark humor. His throat suddenly became tight. “I’m sorry. It never occurred to me she would take it out on all of you. I was just trying to stay alive at the time.” Rin remembered cautiously walking up to Captain Lucius at the Trader’s gang plank. After a few minutes of stumbling through barely remembered Mareian, the tall man dressed in blue jacket with heavy gold embroidery snatched Rin and dragged him onto the ship with a wide smile. The fortnight sailing back to the Republic was a happy time. Rin was treated like a long-lost son or younger brother. Rin added another large tick-mark in the book he kept in his head. Someday, his grandmother would pay for all the harm she inflicted with her vendetta.

“Don’t apologize son,” the sailing master said, “Any of us would have done it, even if we knew ahead of time what it would cost us. We owed your poppa that much.” The sailing master’s words made Rin pause. For the past ten years, Rin assumed the Trader’s crew treated him so well because of his grandmother. Had it been because of his father instead?

“If you don’t mind me asking, son, where were you all those years?” the sailing master asked, “The captain told us it had something to do with all that ruckus when the elves got their princess stolen.”

“I grew up in the dwarven lands, then got caught up in something I thought was a good idea but turned out bad. In the end, I just wanted to get away from everyone in the Empire,” Rin answered. He hoped he hadn’t offended the older man with such a cryptic answer, but Rin didn’t like talking about his life there. The sailing master just nodded. The two of them were quiet for a minute, listening to the sounds of a ship underway.

“So, what’ve you been up to since we dropped you off on the docks?” the sailing master asked, breaking the silence. “Besides upsetting your grandmother so fiercely?” If anyone else asked, Rin would have told him the carefully prepared cover story of being a bounty hunter chasing down a mark. It just seemed wrong to lie to a man who lost everything helping a desperate eighteen-year-old kid.

“Joined the rangers,” Rin answered, trying to keep his voice casual. The sailing master was quiet for a long moment. Rin started to second-guess his decision.

“Good profession, that,” the sailing master said, as if Rin said he was a bookkeeper or a farmer. The two men stood in silence, looking out at the horizon. The winds were picking up briskly. It looked like the sailing master’s prediction about the timing of their landing was correct.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I have to ask your name,” Rin said.

“Kromer, son. Jonas Kromer,” the sailing master answered.

“Well, if it means anything, Mr. Kromer, I’m truly grateful for what you and the crew did for me,” Rin said, extending his hand, “If there’s anything I can do for you, please ask.” Kromer grasped Rin’s hand in an iron grasp.

“I might hold you to that if the Republican Navy’s feeling a bit frisky before we make port,” Kromer answered light-heartedly, “Having a ranger vouch for us might just keep them for peeking into some of the holds.” Kromer winked mischievously. For the first time in weeks, Rin felt some of his burdens ease as he laughed at the small man’s half-joke.

Within a week, the Sea Dancer approached Black Cove. According to hack adventure paper novel writers, Black Cove earned its name for being an illicit port for smuggled goods and reveling pirates. In truth, the name came from the black, volcanic sand ringing the harbor. Despite the name’s mundane origin, Black Cove did its best to live up to its infamous reputation. As the Sea Dancer glided into the harbor’s waters, Rin saw at least three ships on the Republic Navy’s “sink-at-all-costs” list, including the infamous pirate ship Night Stalker.

The Sea Dancer slid into one of the many rough-built slips cramming the port. Sailors scrambled down the brig’s sides to secure the ship’s lines. Rin watched the activity. The captain made it clear that for the pittance Rin paid for his passage, he could wait until after the crew offloaded the far more valuable cargo. Time was money for smugglers just as it was for legal traders. The quicker the cargo was off loaded, the quicker it got sold, and the sooner the crew could spend their shares. The whorehouses and gambling dens beckoned from across the wharf.

The wait gave Rin time to study the other ships tied up at the dock. Three slips down was the ship that carried the sorcerer to Black Cove. He committed the faces of the ship’s sailors to memory. Hopefully, he wouldn’t be forced to be too rough when he questioned one of them. Rin always preferred when people cooperated. Violence took valuable time. Rin needed to find the sorcerer and get off this cursed continent. Finally, Jonas Kromer told Rin he was free to leave the ship. Rin shook Kromer’s hand one more time before slinging his saddlebags over his shoulder, picking up his saddle, and leading his horse down the gangplank.

As soon as Rin’s boots hit the dirt road at the end of the dock, a wave of power shot through him. Rin momentarily lost his footing. The medallion’s pulse was stronger than ever. The damn thing thrummed like a drum through Rin’s body. Holding tight to his horse, the pulsing subsided. As the pulsing quieted, Rin realized he felt different kinds of pulses through the medallion. Five different kinds.

Protector damn it all, it’s them! With just a bit of concentration, Rin could discern which pulse belonged to who and how close they were. His eyes widened. One was close. Very close. Rin concentrated on the pulsing, and he knew who it was. Of all people, what was he doing here?

Rin shook himself. Fate, planning, or coincidence didn’t matter. Rin was here to find the sorcerer and bring the man back to the Republic – alive or dead. Everything else could wait. The thought stopped him in his tracks. Did he want to see the others? No. Just finish the hunt and be done with it.

Besides, they didn’t need me once Illana was returned. Why would they want to see me now? Just thinking her name sent a pang of familiar hurt through him. Pushing the pain back down, Rin grasped his horse’s leads and walked into the town. It was time to get to work.

The port side of Black Cove looked more Mareian than elven. The wooden buildings thrown up beyond the docks had the Mareian squareness and harsh angles. Even the streets were laid out in the familiar Republican squares. Rin chuckled to himself at the contrast of the orderly nature of the town to the rowdiness of its denizens. It took a few hours, but Rin singled out one of the sailors for interrogation. Rin watched from the shadows as the man walked out of a whorehouse, stumbling back towards the public house where his crewmates waited. From the cut of the man’s clothes, he was the ship’s second or third mate. Senior enough to have useful information, with just enough experience to know better than to fight with a ranger, and just young enough to forget to bargain. Rin scruffed the sailor by his jacket collar and yanked him into the alley next to the public house. Nice thing about illicit ports, everyone ignored anything not happening to them or their crewmates.

“What under the Protector’s Eyes?” the sailor blubbered as Rin slammed him against a wall.

“You had a passenger on your ship. I want to know about him,” Rin said with a calm tone. The sailor lunged with a rigging knife. Rin sidestepped the drunken attack with contemptuous ease before grabbing the sailor’s arm and twisted it behind his back. A sharp squeeze and the knife dropped to the dirt ground. The sailor cursed and struggled. This one had more fight in him than expected. Frustrated, Rin slammed the man’s face into the wall with a bit more force than he intended. The familiar wet crunch of a broken nose was followed by a muffled cry of pain.

“I will say this once,” Rin said in the same calm tone, “You will tell me about your passenger. You don’t have a choice about that. Your only choice is exactly how mangled your body will be before you tell me. I would prefer not to go through all the trouble of crippling you.” The sailor stopped struggling. Common sense was finally emerging in his alcohol-soaked mind.

“Who are you?” the sailor asked, spitting blood across the wall.

“Ranger,” Rin answered. The sailor froze. According to the stories, rangers would go anywhere and kill anyone who tried to get in their way. While the first part was mostly true, the last part was just hack writing. Still, the mythos was useful on occasion.

“Sweet Protector, we didn’t know he was hunted!” the sailor said, starting to weep. “We thought he was just one of those Kingdom nobles trying to escape their civil war. I swear, we didn’t know he was hunted!”

“Why did you think he was a Kingdom noble?” Rin asked, loosening his hold just a bit.

“His accent. He was trying to sound like he was from the Southlands, but it was just a bit forced, you know. Like one of those stage shows. We’d seen another of them nobles use it when he was trying to get to the Southlands,” the smuggler said. Rin added that fact to the little he knew about the sorcerer.

“Where was he going?” Rin asked.

“The Poison Well,” the smuggler answered, “It’s a public house up in the elf part of town. He gave us each four gold senatiums to forget him. Not enough when one of you comes asking, though.” Rin released the man. The sailor pulled out a handkerchief and held it up to his bleeding nose. Rin picked up the man’s knife and handed it back.

“What’s his name?” Rin asked.

“Smythe,” the sailor said, shrugging his shoulders. Smythe was one of the most common surnames in the Kingdom. On Torra, that would have made the hunt more difficult. There were so many Kingdomers fleeing their civil war. Humans were rare enough in the elven lands that it wouldn’t matter what name the sorcerer was using. Someone would remember him once he left Black Cove.

“You will not speak of me or that your passenger is hunted. If I catch wind otherwise…” Rin let the sentence trail off. Better to let the man’s imagination fill in the details. The sailor nodded with a jerk before sprinting out of the alley. Rin looked up the road to the elven side of Black Cove and grimaced. It could never be easy. He untied his horse’s reigns and started to trudge up the road towards his medallion’s pulsing.

Chapter 4

Among the prominent nations of our world, the Mareians are particularly noteworthy for their commercial acumen. It is indeed a peculiar historical phenomenon that, despite the First Families of Marei eschewing trade as an ignoble pursuit, numerous “Second Families” ascended to prominence by constructing extensive and resilient trade networks. These networks exhibited remarkable fortitude, enduring the calamities of the daemon invasion and the subsequent War of Reclamation, thereby illustrating the enduring nature of commerce. The Mareians imposed their most prolonged trade embargo following the pogroms during the Night of Fire and Blood. This decisive action can be attributed to the systematic extermination of their traders by elven perpetrators. The Mareians collectively resolved to impart a lesson on the consequences of being deprived of legitimate commerce. However, in true Mareian fashion, the official embargo did not entirely deter them from engaging in trade with those possessing the requisite capital. Thus, the Mareians navigated the complex domain of commerce with a pragmatic approach, ensuring the continuity of trade even amidst adversity. This tale underscores the principles of economic resilience and adaptability, traits that have long characterized the Mareian people. – Excerpt from “Wealth and Trade” by Scholar Imini Loc

RIN

Fools Port was notorious in the Mareian Republic for good reasons. With Juniper Bay a mere thirty kilometers to the north, legitimate shippers avoided Fools Port’s unreliable harbor. The tides fluctuated too fast, sandbars appeared out of nowhere, and the strange winds seemed to delight in slamming ships into the shoals. No respectable captain would risk his ship, his sailors, and most importantly, his cargo, to those conditions. Not even the Republican Navy risked its ships in Fools Port. As a result, Fools Port evolved into a haven for those whose cargoes were somewhat less than legal, or those bound for less than legal destinations. As that particular business boomed, the town absorbed smugglers’ culture. Lawmen weren’t welcome, and that went double for any ranger.

As he rode through the town, Rin wore a ranch hand’s green cotton shirt and denim trousers. His uniform was at the bottom of one of his saddlebags. There were enough veterans around that Rin’s worn cavalry boots, wide brimmed hat, and long brown duster wouldn’t draw much notice. Rin didn’t want to wear the duster in the humid heat of Fools Port. It was bad enough in the dry heat of the Badlands, but at least there it had the advantage of keeping the grit from getting everywhere. He needed the long jacket to cover his ranger-issued scimitar and revolver. Those would definitely draw unwanted notice, but Rin wasn’t about to walk those streets without proper weapons.

Rin didn’t have a lot of information on the sorcerer. Demons weren’t very good at distinguishing one human from another. The description Rin managed to pry out of the demon was the sorcerer was taller than Rin, blond hair, and wore a dark cloak over light colored clothing. That was about as good as Rin was ever going to get from a demon. Rin knew where to get more. Rin dismounted in front of one of many identical warehouses clustered around the wharfs. A bell chimed as Rin walked into the warehouse’s front office. The man at the counter looked up and froze as he saw Rin.

“Hello Bruno,” Rin said, casually, “Nice to see you again. How’s business?”

“Who knows you’re here?” Bruno hissed. He quickly drew the drapes on the few windows.

“The rangers know I’m in Fools Port, but not who I was going to see. I didn’t see anyone I recognized coming in, or anyone who looked like they recognized me,” Rin answered.

“Do you know what would happen if she knew you were here, cousin?” Bruno asked.

“Our grandmother hasn’t sent anyone after me since I killed her last thug a couple of years ago,” Rin answered. “I half-hoped she dropped the matter. I’m guessing she hasn’t.” Only his grandmother could make demons seem reasonable. “Sorry, cousin. She’s lashing out at everyone lately. More so than usual, and no one knows why,” Bruno said, finally hugging his cousin. “So, what are you doing in this place? Last I heard, you were out in the Badlands.” Bruno motioned Rin over to the counter and shoved a mug of bitter wine into his cousin’s hands.

“I’m hunting someone. According to my information, my quarry came here to catch a ship,” Rin explained. Bruno arched his eyebrow. He knew better than to get between a ranger and his quarry.

“Why would he catch a ship here if he’s coming from the Badlands? Why didn’t he just go up to Blackstack and grab the railroad? He could have gone anywhere from there,” Bruno said.

“Because he’s heading to the Jeweled Empire,” Rin answered.

“Well, it makes sense to send you,” Bruno said, after a few moments, “You did grow up down there. You even have that nifty necklace they gave you.” At its mention, the medallion pulsed.

“Let’s not discuss that,” Rin answered flatly. Rin didn’t like to think of his years growing up in the Jeweled Lands. He didn’t want to deal with the cold anger down in his gut. He couldn’t let that cloud his judgement. Especially not when he was hunting someone as dangerous as the sorcerer.

“Sorry cousin, I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories,” Bruno said, seeing the dark expression on Rin’s face. “I know. I apologize.” He took a sip of his own wine and smiled at his cousin. Bruno was one of the few members in his father’s family willing to talk with Rin.

“So, what can I do to help you?”

“First, I need to find out what ship my quarry fled on. Then, I’ll need to get passage to follow him down to the Empire,” Rin answered.

“He must be pretty bad for you to hunt him that far,” Bruno mused, “So what’s this guy’s name? I can ask around.” Rin gave his cousin a weak smile.

“I don’t know,” Rin said, “All I know is that he’s taller than me, blond, and was wearing a dark cloak when he left the Badlands.”

“How do you expect me to find someone in this town with just a vague description?” Bruno asked incredulously.

“Granted, there aren’t many blondes who come through here, but there are enough to make it hard to nail down just one.”

“People will remember this man,” Rin answered. The magic released in that kind of ritual stayed with a person, like an almost imperceptible odor. The people in Fools Port tended to be more sensitive than most. They would remember an odd blond man. Maybe Rin would get lucky and find out the sorcerer’s name.

“So, what if he’s already on his way down to the elves?”

“I’ll need you to find me a ship.”

Chapter 3

In the chronicles of our valiant struggle during the Reclamation War, we encountered no adversary more daunting than the Mareian Rangers. These formidable foes were not merely adept horsemen, akin to the Kingdom’s Hussars, nor simply exemplary marksmen like the Mareian Chosen, nor merely accomplished woodsmen, reminiscent of our own Imperial Scouts. Each Ranger was a paragon of all these virtues, underpinned by an indefatigable spirit that drove them to persevere against insurmountable odds—far beyond the endurance of any ordinary soldier. Tales of their rigorous training, necessary to earn the esteemed title of Ranger, were recounted around our campfires, intended to instill a profound sense of respect and caution. The presence of even a single Ranger on the battlefield was a harbinger of doom for many, with the extent of the carnage constrained only by the ammunition at his disposal. Within their ranks, it was said, there were those whose very presence invoked trepidation amongst their comrades. These were the Rangers who ventured into the desolate and perilous expanse known as the Badlands. Thus, they became legends in their own right—a testament to the valor and tenacity that epitomized the Mareian Rangers. – excerpt from “Memoirs of the Reclamation War” by Lord Junis Vallen, commander of the Eagle Division

RIN

In the Republic of Marei, common wisdom was one shouldn’t enter the Badlands if one wanted to remain alive – or sane. The Badlands were a cursed expanse of desert. Most people went mad in a few months. Rin was one of the few who could traverse the Badlands and keep his sanity. He wasn’t sure if it was a blessing or a curse.

The magic might not make me insane, but seeing things like this might, Rin thought. After nearly eight years working in the Badlands as a Republican ranger, Rin thought he’d seen all the horror the cursed lands could throw at him. He should have known better. Rin climbed down off his horse and carefully tread on the sandy ground. His horse refused to go any closer. Common sense was for Rin to gallop back to Fort Killian as fast as he could and return with as many of his fellow rangers as he could. Sometimes, unfortunately, common sense needed to be put aside to get the job done. Particularly when dealing with demons.

“Just as I told you,” hissed the foul creature, as it shimmered into visibility. Rin ignored the demon as he studied the scene.

Most people thought of demons as monsters who tore through army platoons without effort. Some demons could, but most of them were little more than shadows. Nothing like the daemon they once had been. When those monsters opened gates two centuries ago, the daemon slaughtered millions. The races of the world threw whatever they could forge, build, or cast against the invaders. It wasn’t until almost all the world’s natural magic was locked away by Killian’s Benevolent Betrayal that the races of the world had a fighting chance. Without being able to tap into natural magic, the daemon were vulnerable. They died, but they didn’t leave this realm. They became demons and drawn to the Badlands because somewhere in the cursed land was where Killian performed his ritual.

“Done what required. Fulfill your bargain,” the demon said, with a voice like a loud, malicious whisper. Demons were able to use a bit of their own magic. Enough to channel the trickles of the world’s natural magic still left into powerful spells. Demons used their magic to lure idiots looking for power. Those idiots never understood that the demons’ magic also allowed them to enforce the bargain. Any demon’s ultimate goal was to gain a shard of a person’s soul. The power of a soul allowed the demon to fully come into the world with all the power and terror of the long-dead daemon. A souled demon was immensely powerful on its own, but it could also bind any other demon and use their power. Most of Rin’s job was stopping fools looking for demons before the demons found them. That didn’t mean he was above bargaining with the demons when necessary. He just had to be very careful about the terms.

Demons ranged the gamut from simple innocent-looking tricksters to true horrors that hurt a person’s mind just by looking. Most demons tried to mimic humans when dealing with people, but for some reason they could never get the details quite right. The eyes were too big, or the hair was a metallic color, or there were tentacles instead of fingers. There was always something off. This demon didn’t bother with pretenses. Rin wasn’t a short man at nearly two meters, but the demon towered over him. Its current form was a slimy, bulging mass of gray flesh, tentacles, and claws. There was only a small protrusion with eyes and mouth. Usually, these kinds of demons just slaughtered anything around it until it was put down. Rin was surprised when it approached him the night before to bargain for information.

“No, you haven’t done what was required,” Rin replied. The demon shrank back from Rin’s gaze. It wasn’t going to do anything stupid while Rin still held the prize of a soul shard. Demons were often depicted in paper novels as wily, cunning foes. They could be – if you forgot what they were after. Above all else, the demons wanted soul shards. All their promises, all their gifts, all their magic was devoted to gaining those precious shards. Hold that out as bait, and a demon would agree to damn near anything.

Rin covered his face with a bandanna. The cloth cut the stench down to bearable. Torn human innards smelled bad enough. After baking in the hot sun, the odor would make most people wretch. Unfortunately, the stench wasn’t what was causing Rin’s stomach to flop over. According to the demon, this scene was two days old. Badlands scavengers never passed up a free meal, but there weren’t even any flies on the bodies. Eighteen people tied hand to foot in a large circle, including the half-dozen children. From their features and clothing, these people were probably refugees escaping the Northern Kingdom’s civil war. Instinctively, Rin undid the leather lashes on his sword and revolver. Rin could feel the wrongness from the remnants magic of a powerful spell. Damn, the demon was telling the truth.

Rin swallowed again and took another step to inspect the bodies. From the bruises and scrapes on the men’s faces and knuckles, they tried to put up a fight. Examining the expressions on the faces, these people were alive when the ritual symbols were cut into their flesh. Just looking at the symbols gave Rin a headache. The perpetrator murdered all of these people to fuel the ritual. Rin had seen it before. Use the demon to bring in the trickles of natural magic and then use a sacrifice to intensify it.

“What was this ritual?” Rin asked as he stood up from his examination. The demon’s flesh pulsed quizzically.

“What about the bargain?” the demon asked, ignoring Rin’s question.

“You told me you watched a human attack these people two nights ago, tie them up, and do a ritual.” Rin said, keeping his voice calm as he stepped back to his horse.

“You promised a shard!” the demon boomed.

“If you want me to give you a shard, then you need to tell me everything. That was the bargain,” Rin said.

“Told you everything,” the demon retorted, but it sounded pleading. The promise of a shard was too strong.

“If you told me everything, you would be able to enforce the bargain. You haven’t, so you can’t. Tell me everything or the bargain is forfeit,” Rin told the demon.

“Shard! Give the shard!” the demon wailed. Rin reached back and yanked the grapegun from its scabbard. He brought the double-barreled weapon up to his shoulder and touched off the first barrel. The demon let out an otherworldly howl as shards of obsidian penetrated its form. The gray flesh darkened as the demon became stuck between this world and their original one.

“Everything, now!” Rin demanded, “Or you get the second barrel – and it’s silver.” The demon quivered. Obsidian anchored demons to this world without the protection of a soul shard. While anchored, silver could banish a demon. For a time, at least. There was only one way to permanently banish a demon.

“Human said it would trade a shard for help,” the demon croaked, “Helped get these humans. That all! Human did its own ritual.” Rin quirked his eyebrow up. Since the near elimination of natural magic from Killian’s Benevolent Betrayal, there were only two sources of magical knowledge – the deities and the demons. No religious order would use such a horrific ritual, and no demon would have told a human about a ritual that powerful without getting a shard in payment. The rangers would have known if there was a souled demon. If the sheer carnage didn’t alert them, other demons would have been tripping over themselves to do so just to keep from being enslaved. Still, the demon was bound by the deal to tell Rin the truth. It could leave out parts, but whatever it told Rin must be true or the bargain would be forfeit. Demons who forfeited their bargains suffered the same fate as those who were bound with obsidian and hit with silver.

“What was the ritual for? What did it do?”

“I don’t know. The human was talking foolish things.”

“What did the human say?”

“It would find the heart of magic.” The demon pulsed with terror as Rin considered the words. Find the heart of magic? What under the Protector’s gaze would that mean? Rin studied the demon. It wasn’t lying. It wanted the shard too badly.

“You helped the human. So why didn’t you get a shard?” Rin asked, looking up at the demon.

“Ritual broke the bargain!” the demon exclaimed. The words sent a chill down Rin’s spine. Demon bargains were unbreakable. Not even clerics wielding the power of their gods could break a demon bargain. Magic that could break a demon bargain terrified Rin.

“Where did he go after this?” Rin asked, motioning to the human corpses.

“That not the bargain,” the demon protested, “Give shard!”

“The bargain was you lead me to this place and tell me everything you observed,” Rin said, “If the sorcerer said or hinted anything about where he was going, then you would have observed it.” The demon snarled as its flesh pulsed angrily.

“Hate humans. Especially hate you,” the demon said.

“I’m not fond of you either. Now answer!”

“Demanded human give shard. It said no. Tried to invoke bargain. Magic broke bargain. Threatened to kill human. It laughed. Said it was too busy to deal with demon. Had to catch a ship to elf lands.”

“So why didn’t you kill him?” Rin asked, ignoring the sudden pulsing from the medallion around his neck. Rin ignored it. Damn thing started up anytime someone mentioned the elves.

“Magic strange after ritual. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t think right,” the demon admitted. An unknown ritual that disabled a demon? What under the Protector’s Gaze could do that? Whatever it was, Rin needed to find out.

“Told everything. Now give shard.” Rin felt the wave of power as the demon invoked the bargain. Rin scanned the flat sandy area. His eyes locked on to the light glinting to the north. Well, it was about damned time. Rin looked at the demon.

“I, Rinaldo Batista Acciaio, give you a shard of my soul,” Rin said. As soon as he uttered the words, a wave of weakness hit him. Rin collapsed to the ground. The demon screamed in exaltation. Rin felt the unnatural shift in the air as the demon absorbed the shard of his soul. Rin rolled over and with the little bit of strength he could muster, flashed his signal mirror. The demon should have known better than to make a deal with a ranger.

Rin barely blocked a clawed tentacle with his mirror. The blow tore the signal mirror from Rin’s hands. Black fluid erupted from the demon’s body as the bullet struck. The report of the rifle echoed a second later. The demon quivered before screaming in agony. Silver could put down a demon once it was anchored in the world, but the demon would reappear anywhere from a month to a few years later. To permanently banish a demon, it needed to be pierced by star-iron. Every ranger carried a few of the precious bullets.

The demon went into spasms as the star-iron expelled its unnatural presence from the world. The demon’s body went still as the daemon ghost struggled to remain in this world. The fight lasted a few seconds. The demon’s body splattered across the ground as the daemon ghost was shoved out of this reality and back to its own. Rin felt his strength come back as the shard of his soul returned to him. The gamble paid off better than expected – and much worse. As much as he wished he could shove this duty off on anyone else, Rin knew he had the best chance of catching the sorcerer responsible for the horror in front of him. He staggered over to his horse and pulled out his writing tablet.

Rin was finishing his short report as his partner trotted up. Like Rin, Sergeant Nico Ignaccio had traditional Mareian features. Nico’s hair was straight and black, but unlike Rin, Nico kept his long enough to be tied back. Rin found short hair was much cooler in the heat of the Badlands. Nico was short and heavily-muscled, where Rin was of above average height and slim. Both had skin darker than the normal olive tone due to long days in the Badlands sun. Nico’s dark eyes normally twinkled with amusement.

“You were late with the shot,” Rin growled as Nico approached.

“Why are you always such a sheep’s cock? Most people would start with ‘that was a great shot, Nico. Especially from that distance. And with a star-iron bullet’,” Nico said.

“Yes, it was an excellent shot. Thank you. Now, I need you to help with that,” Rin said, pointing to the ritual site. Nico’s indignation evaporated as soon as he saw the ritual site.

“Sweet Protector, what happened here?” Nico asked. “I’ve never seen a demon ritual like this before.”

“It’s not a demon ritual,” Rin said.

“The Protector would ynever condone such a thing in His name. Not even the elves’ god would do this. Even to humans,” Nico said. Rin stopped himself before correcting his partner. Rin didn’t have the time to explain why he knew the elves worshipped a goddess. Nico was already too inquisitive about Rin’s past. The man absolutely refused to take the hints to leave well enough alone.

“If this wasn’t a demon ritual, then what was this?”

“I don’t know, but I intend to find out,” Rin said. He held out his account of what the demon told him. “I need you to take this to the major. He’s going to need to get some scholars down here. Maybe they can figure out what happened.” Rin hoped they would find something that contradicted what his instincts were telling him.

“If I’m supposed to be taking this to the major, then where are you going?” Nico demanded.

“Fools Port, as fast as possible.” Rin climbed up on his horse.

“Fools Port? Are you insane? They’ll kill you as soon as they see your badge. Why under the Protector’s gaze would you go there?” Nico asked, perplexed.

“Only place in the Republic I can find a ship to take me to the elf lands fast enough to catch the bastard who did this,” Rin answered. He spurred his horse into a gallop as Nico’s jaw dropped. The medallion around Rin’s neck pulsed happily.

Chapter 2