Somewhere north of Saxum

A man walked the earth. A man, tall, lean and muscular, wrapped in heavy tendons tinted with olive. He wore little, only a grey short sleeved shirt, collar tied loosely, and leathery trousers. Heavy brown boots made imprints in the dirt under him. His chestnut hair hang to his neck and brows, and shifted when he opened his eyes, revealing irises the color of storm clouds. On his back was a large leathery hilt, empty of it's contents. The sword it held was in his left hand: A beautifully formed silver crossguard, hilt wrapped in silk. An aquamarine pommelstone glittered in the daylight. The blade itself was long, claymore sized, but held in one hand. It's edges were razor thin, gleaming with eminent death.

Fate and his Harbinger strode toward the immense walls of Saxum, striding swiftly and unfaltering, set on task.

Captain's Quarters

Tarabon looks over maps, scratches his head and tapping a cup of some kind of alcoholic beverage. Raethan enters the tent, bowing before the captain.

"Rise. What is it? I'm very busy."

Captain's Quarters
Raethan promptly hands Tarabon the letter.

"A letter from Commander Dragon, Sir, he says that he requires my services."

Saxum

Fate arrives at Saxum, blending into the wagon trains and waves of people flowing in and out of the great gates. He walked through the city, shoving his way through the guards until he came to the inn.

The sign had a snake-like creature biting an olive branch. "The Wyrm Casket," it read.

He walked into the inn, where there was a violinist playing a fast tune and reciting a song about a man who had to be a barmaid. The audience occasionally rippled with laughter at the antics of the man down on his luck.

Fate made his way to a dark table in the corner, where sat a man with a hood covering most of his features except for thick, pale lips. His dark hood shifted up, seeing Fate approach. Fate takes a seat, unbuckling his sword and setting it beside him, leaning against the chair leg.

The other man's voice was light, somewhat of a whisper, and fast. "So, who is this person you are in search of?" No greetings or small talk, just business.

"I'm looking for a man named Galt Medeis," said Fate. The man chuckled.

"Galt? Who can't find Galt? He's in Central, fighting the country. Even the most backwater villages know about Galt."

"I see. How can I get to him?"

The man glanced around, quickly. "I can help arrange a private transport to Central, from here. It'll be costly. I'll need money upfront."

"I don't have any money."

There was a silence.

The man laughed, loudly, drawing attention from several of the patrons.
"How did you expect to pay for my services?"
Fate shrugs.
"Well," the man continues, "maybe you can do something for me. An errand."
"What is it?"
"There's a merchant in town, a rich one. Goes by the name of Amastice Caryotte. He got me to do what he wanted, and never paid. Don't ask what. But I want you to teach him that I'm not to be trifled with so easily. Don't kill him, just rough him up. Maybe get my payment. You look like you can do that kind of thing."
Fate didn't answer for a while. But eventually he spoke.
"I'm no muscle man. But I'll do it if you get me to Central in secret. Where can I find him?"
"I don't know. Probably in some rich people inn."
Fate stood up, grabbing his Harbinger. He nodded his goodbye, and walked back outside, and began asking around.

Captain's Quarters

"I see," said the captain, reading through the letter.

"You'll have to arrange your own transport. Go on, then."

Captain's Quarters

"Yes sir thank you sir." said Raethan, saluting his captain, and leaves the tent. On his way back to the barracks to pack.

Barracks

In his room, Raethan, finds his friend Ethan awake. "Glad to see you're awake Ilter. For I have news.

Raethan relays the message that he is being transferred while he's packing his things.

"I shall be purchasing a horse and leaving as soon as I can." says raethan

and after a manly goodbye with his close friend he goes to the stable to find a horse.

Saxum

Fate has an interesting way of finding its way to whom it wants. Indeed, the second person Fate asked was actually Amastice Caryotte, riding in a litter, escorted by several armed cohorts.

"Yes, I am Amastice. Can I help you? I'm on my way to a meeting."

Something told Fate that he wouldn't have stopped for anyone but himself, or perhaps a noble or equally rich merchant.

"One of my acquaintances said that you owe him money," said Fate. The merchant's face became a scowl. "I just want you to pay him back so I can get what I want. For one of your stature, it can't be much to you."
"I assure you that I would never cut a man short. Do I look like I need to? No, I have no business with you." Amastice tapped the side of the litter twice, and the carriers began to move again. Some of the guards blocked the way from Fate, eying him warily.

Fate reentered the citizen stream, but followed the sedan. Something tickled his whiskers when the noble said he was going to a meeting, and he suspected that he was lied to. No man can escape Fate.

Linen Grad
"I am Terme Abiliti." he states strongly. "That's quite the thought. What is it that you do?" Terme implores with curiosity.

Saxum Shopping District

Balo walks down the streets of Saxum eyeing all the vendors, scoping them out.

Suddenly a wondrous smell wafts his way.

"Oh yes. Fresh bread" he mutters to himself as a smile forms on his tanned face.

He darts off towards the nearby bakery and spots the pan with loaves sitting cooling on the counter.

"Sir, How much is a loaf." he says to the baker at the counter, masking his grumbling stomach.

Saxum Markets

The man eyes Balo warily.

"Five small marks for a loaf. Eight marks gets you two."

Saxum

Always go the full measure. Do not harm; destroy. Do not lie; deceive. Do not hate; doom.
The words echoed in Fate's head, though he did know where they came from. He had no memories of those words being spoken, but he knew they were not his own. He quickly dismissed the thought; he had more important things to concern himself with. The manor was large, but empty. The servants were likely off to themselves in the absence of their master. Still, the emptiness worried him. If the servants were mostly gone, did that mean the mistress was not here, either? Maybe he had simply not encountered any. Otherwise, this venture would have been pointless. Time was too precious to be wasted.

It didn't take long for Fate to find the master bedroom, on the third and topmost floor. The double doors were at the end of a sizable hall, with few doors. Offices, or guest bedrooms, perhaps. It didn't matter. He reached the doors and planted his ear to one of them, stepping lightly. No sound came through. Breathing as deeply as he could and still be silent, he relaxed his muscles and opened the door. His eyes narrowed inquisitively. On the large bed lay two figures, one male and one female. He did not recognize the man as Amastice, but he was muscular and scarred. Fate's eyes took in a set of armor and an arming sword and clothes next to the bed, on the left, the same side the man slept. A guard, or perhaps a guard captain. The grizzled look on his face said captain, as did his tightly cropped brown hair. Dark eyes showed as Fate's noise wakened him, glazed with grogginess. They flicked to Fate, and hardened immediately. He almost leaped from the bed, throwing the blankets from him, reaching for his sword. Fate was just as fast, moving to kick the sheathed blade away. Proximity was in the captain's favor, however, and he rolled to his feet, steel in hand. Fate managed to evade the swift swipes and jabs of the sword, reaching for his own hilt. As his left hand found the leather-wrapped handle, he backed up onto a steel greave and fell to the floor. He rolled as he landed, narrowly avoiding the sword point that buried itself in the carpet not but a second later. Taking advantage of the captain pulling his sword free, Fate drew Harbinger as Mistress Caryotte screamed, awoken by sounds of battle. Blade met blade, and Harbinger's swift heaviness quickly overwhelmed the captain. A bead of sweat rolled down the guard's temple, and fear of death shined in his eyes. In desperation, he yelled and leaped forward, sword extended, an unexpected but foolish attempt at a deathblow. Fate sidestepped and lopped the captain's head off. The body, still moving forward, crashed into a mirror while the head rolled on the floor. Fate turned his attention to the cowering wife, screaming anew at the death of her secret lover. The sounds of clanking footsteps put haste to Fate, who took no time in putting his sword through her until she stopped screaming. From his coat pocket he produced a small scrap of folded parchment, and tucked it into the bloody bosom of the mistress. He turned to face the door as it slammed open, preparing to fight the manor's guards...

Linen Grad

"I'm a representative from Solus. Allan Mandragon."
He extends an open hand to Terme.

Saxum Shops

Balo sighs at his empty pockets and knows what he must do and it saddens him but he refuses to let it show.

"Ok thank you very much sir." he says turning to look at the other items in the shop.

Balo waits for the baker to get back to his ovens before snatching a loaf.

"SORRY SIR" he yells bursting out into the street running for his rooftop hideaway.