Saxum

The guard slashed for his neck, instinctively. The river undercuts the bank. He wasn't sure why he thought that, but it seemed to make sense as Fate dropped to a kneel and opened the fellow's stomach. Rolling to the side as another blade scraped against the carpeted floor, he wondered how the fight had reached the den. It seemed fitting, with little furnishings except a wide table in the middle lined with chairs and doors leading elsewhere. One wall was set in stone; he reckoned it was some kind of cellar for wines. A few reading chairs and tables stood about, their lamps and wickers unlit. The area the fight had moved to was large and unoccupied, though. Quite fitting.

He wasn't sure how many people he was fighting; even that thought barely skirted the walls of his trance-like mental void. Let your emotions be consumed, replaced only by unfettered focus and resolve... Another thought that didn't seem to be his. His attention shifted back to the guards. Too many. A faint concern, but noteworthy. Why would a merchant's house have this many guards? He stood to parry an overhead blow, piercing the heart breast of another guard. Focus.

The fighting continued furiously until all but three guards, surrounding him, remained. Why aren't they running? Taking the initiative, Fate rushes towards one, feinting an overhead strike. The fool guard takes the bait, raising his shield. Twisting past the man, Fate spins and opens his hamstrings, bringing the merchant guard to his knees. Fate swiftly follows up with a decapitation, kicking the body to the ground. Deflecting another slash, he removes the sword hand of his assailant and turns to pivot past a stab, impaling the guard's heart through his exposed armpit. He then turns to the guard missing his hand, pale and trembling on his knees, clutching his stump. He stares blankly at Fate, who approaches and crushes the man's neck with a well placed boot. Wiping his blade on the uniforms of the far-too-many guards, Fate leaves the manor through a backdoor. Why were there so many?

Time moves on, pulling the world with it; a grand horse for a suitably grand chariot. Noon approaches, bathing the great city Saxum in majestic golden rays, gifting the rivers with great sparkling diamonds and sapphires, baring the forests of Solus in verdant wilderness, crowning the Great Range in a blaze of royalty. And blood spills in the Plains of Artia, blood of volume unheard of since the days of the plains' namesake, Artia te'Vara. A crimson flag rests on the green fields, a grim reminder of the conflicts that tear at this beautiful land. They say the Pale Horse rides freely in these days.

Time lacks favoritism, moving objectively through that which is not, guiding lives in mysterious ignorance. Even so, it seems that time plays well at heroes sometimes, and even as minutes pass without change, the lives of heroes mark this flow, parting time in their wake. Let time unravel.

Saxum Theater

Balo sits quietly up on the grid watching the actors rehearse while he eats his loaf.

Oh how warm it is up here while the night is so cold, and the view is only second to the wings themselves.

He chuckles as a couple of the actors finish a joke.

Central Palace

Naudius walks into the palace with his owl on his shoulder.

He approaches Galt

"As much as I love the shadows I tire of watching and commanding my blood lust calls. Give me an order."

Central Palace

Galt glances up from the papers on his table; besides the sprawled maps and reports and small chests on the table, the study is quite neat, with few furnishings and a single large window behind Galt's chair providing a fine view to the palace grounds beneath.

"You would wish to exit the shadow? An interesting man who would deny such a tantalizing lover. Shadows would grow quite lonely without you, I believe. In any case, for what do you wish? I advise myself against sending my most trusted allies into the storms of war. Death is not so appealing as your shadows, would you not agree?"

Central Palace

"Not so much leaving the shadows as courting the light. Silence and Shadows shall remain my lovers but shall make room for the crimson blood of thine enemies."

Naudius pauses.

"I would never leave them entirely but bring more into them albeit against their wills and not necessarily breathing."

Central Palace

"I see. The northern plains are torn, so I'm told. Hopefully I will see reports from my agents in Saxum. Amastice claims to have gotten a good hold with the nobility there."

He paused.

"The Dragon is rallying. Under no orders of mine."

Central Palace

"Oh he shall be a fun one indeed. Though while I am out and about I must stop in Saxum, there should be a plant that is ripe and I do believe it is time to pick it. Is there anything pressing in the City that you need?"

Naudius pets his owl, Canor.

Saxum Theatre

As the rehearsal comes to an end Balo decides to relocate for the night.

As he climbs down the ladder to leave the grid he feels a pain in his hand and looks at his Mark.

It has been years and it still hurts. But why now?

He ignores it and climbs down past both pinrails to the stage and clings to the shadows trying not to be seen.

Central Palace

"Slow yourself. I do not want Dragon dead, not yet. Find out what is going on. As for Saxum, feel free to check up on the events there. A chance for reliable sources is too rare to ignore. I ask you to investigate this... gathering first. The Dragon is not easy to put reins on."

He smiled as if amused by his own joke, though it did not touch his eyes.

"Anything else?"

Central Palace

"Nothing else. Though I am mildly disappointed and I entirely plan to prey upon the fear of my name. I will send Cantor if I need anything."

Naudius goes to exit.

Central Palace

"Ah, one more thing, Naudius."

Galt meets the spymaster's gaze with eyes like grim steel.

"Fate is upon the world once more. Ride with caution, friend."