Within the hallowed halls of the Palace of Artun, a council takes place. The emperor, Artun XVII, a man of heroic stature, takes his seat not at the throne of his forbears, but at a lower, unadorned chair in an ante-room within his private chambers. Aside from a score of his own personal guard, aptly named The Legion, his highness Artun is unaccompanied. One might wonder where the councillors, attendants and various assorted nobles of Kerdal are. This is only until they notice that the Emperor carries nothing of his office except his ring of office; this is no mere council meeting, nor is it public knowledge. What may come to pass in this room is not public knowledge, and those of The Legion in attendance are all mute. Mystery, deception and intrigue, hallmarks of his predecessors only, have touched Artun XVII and, if the three arrayed before his august presence are any indication, it is for good reason...



Darien Benison sat stoically, sipping from a glass of water he had found waiting for him upon entering the room. He was endeavouring, through the low light, to figure out the people who were sat next to him. Despite his keen eyesight their features eluded him and he returned to the glass before him, rolling it around between his palms, the only sign of his agitation.
Who does the guy think he is? he wondered, for the gentleman at the other end of the table was also enveloped in shadows, if it weren't for all the men in armour, I'd put a dagger in his eye for his troubles. Getting me out of bed at three of the clock, ushering me up here like some common cut-throat; there had better be a good reason for this, or someone's head is going to roll.

On Darien's left, although his name was unknown to him, sat Artax Pandemon, the sellsword. Artax had sunken deep into his chair, his arms resting loosely on the seat while he loomed across the table from underneath his hood and shawl. Artax said absolutly nothing, being used to strange employers who like to create this air of mystery around them. He'd let them have their way with it, and eventually they'd come to the point, and the price. Right now, he was listening to Czarrad's chuckling in his head, as the demon was rather amused by the agitated grumpiness of their neighbour. Artax' glass of water had been untouched.

Though she was shrouded in shadows, Amberlyn Doyle knew her fiery red hair would attract attention. Easing her cloak's hood over her head, she gazed at the other shadows, making out bits and pieces of each individual. Seated directly across from her was a man, or whom she assumed to be a man, for very few women would be allowed to be present at such a meeting, who was finding it amusing to twist his glass of water in between his palms. Though she couldn't see if there WAS a figure next to him, there was a glass. She couldn't help but be intrigued; for every seat there was a glass, for every glass there was a person to drink from the cup. This glass, however, was untouched. Even her own had been used. Coaxing down the urge to stand and demand an explaination from their host, Amberlyn pulled her glass towards her and forced down the lukewarm water. Silently, she waited.

Leaning forward in his seat, Artun XVII smiled at his 'guests'. It was almost a friendly gesture, if one didn't notice that it didn't extend to his eyes. The Emperor's entire body spoke of power, both physical and in station; A full beard framed his face, eyes of molten steel staring out from the red-brown bristles. His hair, like his beard, was plaited ornately, threaded with silk ribbons. However, this decoration of gold looked neither gaudy or ridiculous, merely underlining somehow the strength of the Emperor.
"So," he began, a deep baritone rolling from his tongue almost like a bear's growl, low and dangerous; "I apologise for the late hour, but this was a matter of urgency. I trust you can make your own introductions to each other, but suffice it to say that you're all here because you have something I... No, we, The Kingdom of the Plains, need. One of you here is a master of The Guild of the Lily, almost, but held back due to lack of popularity. Another, a dangerous and deadly sellsword who, to all accounts, need not even touch a foe to rain death upon them. The last of you is a bit of a quandary, for there is an unimaginable untapped magical potential there. Or so I am told.
"And so, to business: Do any of you have an idea why you're here, in the dead of night, alone with myself and a score of my best bodyguards?"

Amberlyn sat forward, trying to understand this man called emperor. If he knew anything more about the guests, he didn't say, only implied that he needed them for some quest. Unable to contain her curiosity burning inside her, Amberlyn spoke.
"No, perhaps you'd care to explain yourself, Majesty, for I can't fathom why you would choose such deadly people to sit beside you when you know their potential. Please, do give me some insight, my mind is reeling already." The sarcasm was only a cover for her true curiosity, though Amberlyn would never admit it to anyone, including herself.

Darien, however, merely chuckled. This wasn't a sound of mirth, acting merely as one more weapon in his arsenal. It was such an odd, dry sound that each and every guard in the room felt the hairs on their arms rise and a cold sweat touched many at the base of their backs. Keeping his voice low, the assassin leaned forwards, towards the table itself, "I agree with the woman. I would love to know why you chose such as us to sit with you in the middle of the night, when most people, including me, are in bed." The unmistakable hint of malice snaked around his words, a blade of air that cut into the group's audience. Several of The Legion rested hands on hilts, nervous.

'I like this man, he chuckles funny.' Czarrath spoke in Artax' mind. Artax didn't reply to the demon nor the emperor. He had no qualms with being summoned in the dead of night, and he had no running contract to harm the emperor in any way. Surely the man knew this, or he wouldn't be here right now. If he had done any research, he would know that, as long as the price was right, Artax would do as he was told. 'And the beard looks like he can pay a fair price. You reckon your next mission will include a lot of carnage and mayhem? I hope so.' Czarrath chuckled some more, Artax' mind a cacophony of noises as the room itself was deadly quiet. Artax' merely noticed that some guards already had their hands on their hilts, and thought that their lack of courage should be reason enough to disband them from the Legion. More at a whim of Czarrath than himself, he decided to make a remark about it. "Thy guards seem aggitated, Artun. How can this be? Are we not thy honoured guests? Surely thou knowest, thy title is better armour than yon blades."

The Emperor looked around him and, with a show of indignity, merely shrugged his shoulders. Artun, Lord of the Plains, smiled wryly for a fleeting second, then lapsed back into a more stony visage.
"You would think so, Artax Pandemon, would you not? However, all of The Legion in attendance know of you three and your histories, and so are more alert than even their usual. Unsurprising, really. Though I take your point; and yes, you are all honoured guests for this evening's, or should I say early morning's, meeting. Pay no heed to my guards, they are here only as a necessary precaution. Who knows, one of you might think my cousin Bentin a better candidate for Artun and get it into your head to put a blade through my neck."
The Emperor stood, circling the tabletop idly with a finger, "However, I think we need to get onto business. I assume you've all heard of the danger to my Empire in recent months; the loss of villages, general public outcry, etcetera, etcetera? Well, this is due to a group of savages from across the border.
"These brutes have an army of at least thirty thousand men-at-arms and are taking my Empire from under my feet, piece by piece. You three, against my better instincts, are being given a very specific task; I want information about the Lords of the Plains. If possible, I want them dead. I don't care really what you do, or how you do it, as long as the general devestation which follows you, Artax, is limited.
"Now, I assume you have some questions?"
The Emperor sat, letting the words sink in. His abrupt disclosure of detail was not his usual style, but his tone conveyed the urgency and import of their task. Sinking back into the shadows, Artun XVII waited for a response.

"Yes, I have but one question," Amberlyn began, "why should we help you? What is in it for us?" She shifted in her chair, annoyed that the Emperor was so indifferent to them and the danger they posed.

Darien leaned forward, suddenly incredibly interested, "She has a point. I'd wager you know something about us all, so you know I won't be doing this for money." In the light, his sharp features came into focus, the stern expression on his face underscored by the general air of menace enveloping him. If he'd known the word 'aura', then he might have thought of his own at that point as being black.

"Truth has been spoken. The liberation of thy lands demands a price worthy of the task. If it be little devastation thou wants, thou must pay. If it be thirty thousand souls thou wants slaughtered, thou must pay accordingly. If it be these Lords of the Plains thou wishes dead, thou must pay the mark for each and every lord assassinated. Thou knowest the terms, Artun, and thou must pay." Artax agreed with the other two. Although he wouldn't refuse sums of money like the fellow on his right, he certainly thought that the gathering of an undefined amount of information, the killing of as much as needed, and a mission of uncalcuble length of this level of danger would hard to pay off in monetary means alone. 'I do hope he cuts on the anti-devastation insurance! It would positivly ruin my fun for weeks if he were to bound us like that! Imagine having to clean up each and every body, we'll be busy for days! Unless of course we take a pack of hell hounds with us. They could simply eat the evidence you know. I could summon some from the depths of the abyss...' Czarrath babbled in his mind. 'You never summoned anything, demon.' Artax replied.
He still sat motionless in the chair, and was awaiting the emperor's answer.

Without so much as a mutter, the Emperor drew from his jerkin's pocket a small pouch. Placing it upon the table, Artun undid the drawstring with infinite care, pulled the bag open, and then unceremoniously dumped seven thumb-sized gems onto the table. shunting each gem with a finger towards the three across from him, both Artax and Amberlyn received three, while Darien was given just one.
"Consider these a down-payment. What you see before you are some of the smaller examples of my gemstone collection, one dating back to Artun the Hammer. Each of those sapphires is worth roughly a thousand Kenni; there are plenty more where they came from.
"I propose the following; All of you, right now, leave and head to the stables. There you will find three unattended horses saddled and tacked, with provisions to last a week. The Cavalier's Gate will have been left carelessly unguarded by my staff and the 'theft' will not be reported until the morning. You will ride to the border, East for speed, South if you wish to isolate one of the Lords of the Plains. East is the main bulk of their army, while to the South we have reports that one of these little upstarts has broken away for some unknown purpose.
"Now, I leave the decision up to you, but this meeting is over. You have thirty minutes to be out of the palace, heading East or South. Failing that, these men here," the Emperor pointed to the score of men dotting the room, "and the four hundred or so who aren't on duty in my wing of the palace, but in the next room, will assume that you aren't taking my offer and will execute you. Good evening, good travels and, most of all, good luck."
With that, the Emperor Artun stood, shimmered for a second, and disappeared from view, leaving a minor member of the palace staff in his place, apparently asleep. One or two of the guards blinked in confusion, but several wearing amber crystals merely relaxed; projecting the image of the Emperor was one thing, but onto another person who then had to be manipulated while still under a magical sleep was completely different.

Czarrad was awfully silent while comtemplating their down-payment, and finally spoke in Artax' mind: 'Well then, you wanna start a collection?'. Artax said nothing, but finally bended forward in his chair, took up the glass of water and gulped it down in one go, after taking down his shawl for a moment. Finishing the water and replacing his shawl, he stood up and walked out of the room. Behind him, the three gems lifted themselves off the tables and soared to him, dissapearing in the bag at his belt.
He walked through the corridors of the palace, down the way he was brought in, ignoring the guards on the sides. At the exit, he took his weapons back from the door guard, where he had left them. Strapping his falchion and crossbow to his back, Artax made his way to the stables, and mounted the horse that was best suited to his size. He waited for the other two at the Cavalier's Gate.

Smiling ruefully, Darien walked down the stairs with Artax. Taking back his daggers from the man he left them with, he felt a small smattering of pride that they hadn't the faintest inkling he'd kept a garotte behind his belt buckle, even if they had divulged it of most of the poisons he'd let them find. Mounting a horse in the stable, a roan gelding he quickly found to his liking, Damien turned to the sellsword, and gave him the once-over now that he could see him properly. He decided not to take the man at face value, having seen the trick with the sapphires, but on the whole Damien couldn't help getting the impression that in a stand-up fight, neither of them would have an edge. Worrying, as Damien felt a strong desire to better everyone he met, but at the same time gratifying; there was always a reason to improve.

Amberlyn stayed, watching the other two leave. Quietly, she stood, her dark eyes unreadable. She turned curtly on her heel and removed herself from the room. In the stables, Amberlyn found only a chestnut mare remaining. She pulled herself into the saddle and gently persuaded the horse to catch up to the others.

Darien pulled his horse around to face the entrance to the stables, the Cavalier's Gate mentioned by the Artun before. Without glancing at either of his apparent companions, he said to the horse more than anything, "And so it begins. Pray tell, which way do I go from here?"

"Would it be too much to ask for names?" Amberlyn asked aloud, hoping either one or both would reveal that information. She hated the fact that she was around strangers, hated even more that these strangers were unnamed. It wasn't frightening, just unnerving. "If it matters to either of you, I am Amberlyn Doyle."

Darien turned in the saddle to face Amberlyn, then shrugged. "Well, it would make the process easier, I suppose. My name is Darien Benison. I am a Lesser Assassin of the Guild of the Lily." He rolled up his sleeve to reveal the black lily tattooed on his inner wrist, then turned around again to face the gate. "I assume, Miss Doyle, you are the 'untapped magical potential? As our third companion doesn't seem the overtly magical type."

"I suppose..." Amberlyn stated, looking over at their other companion. He looked to be in another world, perhaps talking to himself. Darien was right, this man didn't look as though he had any powers at all. Lines of age and possibly of turbulent memories bore into his face, or what of it Amberlyn could see. His eyes looked sunken, as if he were an insomniac. She could only assume he might have been muscular, for his clothing revealed nothing. Darien was quite different, however. Though he donned the same, loose-fitting clothing, she could see that his body was slim, aiding in agility, which would be very helpful when being an assassin. She could see his face quite well, for it wasn't hidden as the other man's was. His eyes were dark, much like her own, making him very mysterious. Other than those eyes, he didn't obtain any distinguishing looks. No scars, at least none that she could see. He looked like the average man, which she assumed would greatly aid in his skills.

"I can really only produce fire," Amberlyn added once she had completed her analysis of each man, "a gift I inherited from my mother. If there was any potential untapped, I'm sure I would have found it by now..."

'Oh not this dreadful nonsense again. Why is it you humans always want to know names? In in the Hells, you refer to those of lower ranks as Minions as those of higher ranks as Master. Equal ranks you just try to kill, less competition.' Czarrath chuckled again in Artax' mind. Artax was looking at the young woman from underneath his hood, and listened carefully to the introduction of the others. An assassin, and a fire evoker, who knew nothing of the untapped potential mentioned by the Artun. A strange choice to call to the realm's aid, but then again, who was he to judge? 'Perhaps you should give them a fake name. Maybe they've heard of you. Maybe your reputation preceeds you. You know what might happen, it has happened before! The male is an assassin, he could kill you in your sleep! You will be reported for the crime of stealing the horses, and perhaps the little assassin thinks he might earn a rewards before leaving the kingdom.'
Artax seemed to be lost in thought, as he was struggling with his paranoia and Czarrath's words. He didn't say anything, but was looking at the others wearily, and was sitting on his horse in a slightly tense way, though this couldn't really be seen from the outside, except that this made his horse a bit restless as well. Eventually, after an awkward silence, he managed to get out: "I am... I... I am simply a local mercenary, that's all. Nobody of great importance, nor journeyman of any Guild. I deal in no magics, I simply offer my blade and skill to those who pay."
To divert the subject away from the name matter, he quickly suggested: "I sayeth we ride South. If we hunt down this singleton, we shall know the nature of our adversaries, and we shall be better prepared for yon armies and brethren. What say ye?"

Amberlyn looked over the man once more. She had noticed his hesitance and could do nothing but be curious. It seemed he wouldn't give either of them the chance to find anything more about him. "Unless Darien chooses otherwise, south seems to be where we are headed."

Darien nodded, slightly annoyed that the mercenary had avoided telling them his name; this was slightly mitigated by the fact that the Artun had mentioned him as Artax, earlier. He chose to say nothing, however, reasoning that the mercenary had his own reasons for protecting his identity. Smiling without a hint of warmth, Darien settled into the saddle and simply said, "South it is. Maybe this lone adversary, as you say, might give us some valuable information about the rest of our foes. It will be a long journey, so I suggest we make haste. We can rest outside the city, if necessary."
Without another word, Darien set his horse at a brisk trot, heading through the Cavalier's Gate and into the city, heading for the south gate of the city. Whilst in the saddle he seemed ill at ease, a sad result of being raised by the Guild; until a few years ago, he'd never ridden a horse and the closest he came to it was riding in carriages and wagons on assignments.

Amberlyn followed Darien, completely at ease on her mare. The mare seemed to be fond of her as well, considering Amberlyn had spoiled her slightly, giving her an apple beforehand. She looked behind to see The Man, wondering why he chose to be so mysterious.

Saying nothing, merely glad that the introductions were over and that they seemed to buy his excuse of being just a mercenary. 'Mercenary' or 'Merc' were names Artax could live with, he'd been called by those names, or rather titles, before. Relaxing again, his horse now casually followed the others as they rode out the Cavalier's Gate. Once outside, Artax breathed in the cold fresh night air, letting it chill his lungs, and focusing for a moment on the sensation. Wasn't the most pleasant, but it made him feel alive, in a strange way. Sometimes, having a demon in your head just made you seek conformation. To the delight of said demon, of course. 'Another happy night in the life of Artax Pandemon and his ever faithful compagion Czarrath. What could this night bring? Perhaps unwary bandits, hoping to seize your gold. Or a wayward abberation, furious and ready to be slaughtered by your hand. Of course, might nothing else occur, we could always set fire to a roadside inn. So many possibilities, doesn't it make your mind dazzle?' And to make sure it would, Czarrath actually blurred Artax' vision for a moment as the human pondered over these things. Shaking his head, and still silent, he put his heels to the horse, sending it into a light gallop southwards.

As Artax passed him, Darien wondered for a moment about the man. Putting speculation aside, however, he decided that focusing on the task ahead and readying himself for it were much more necessary pastimes. He mulled over what the Artun had said to them all, separating each piece of information and categorising it mentally, so that by the time they reached the south gate and made their way out beyond the city, he had a fair idea of a course of action. Looking over his shoulder in the saddle Darien spoke just loud enough for both Artax and Amberlyn to hear him, "I think we need to make headway. If the Artun was correct, then this rogue Lord could be both a boon and a curse: The longer he's separated from the others, the less likely he is to return to them, pehaps, but it's also more likely he will recruit followers to his cause. I propose we ride until dawn, then stop to rest for a few hours before continuing. Does anyone agree with me?"

Amberlyn considered Darien's idea. He obviously thought logically and quickly, a feat she herself still had yet to manage. She looked over at The Man. He was secretive and therefore untrustworthy in her eyes. She had noticed him blank out completely from the real world and seemingly speak to himself.
"Aye. Lead the way, good sir... unless the gentleman that rides with us speaks otherwise?" Amberlyn had a feeling he wouldn't argue with a two against one majority, so she quickly rode ahead to follow Darien closely. Amberlyn refused to let it show, but The Man frightened her. Something about him spoke volumes of mistrust.

As the trio moved out of the city, the road ahead of them seemed to stretch on forever in the moonlight. Off to the west farms stretched as the eye could see, while to the east woodlands preserved by the Artun restricted their view. The road seemed to lead directly south, a wide expanse of compacted dirt and cobblestone. Directly ahead, the group could also see a village outlined by the stars. It seemed they would get to the viallage a few hours after daybreak, at their present pace.

Artax took a look around, and noticed the village along the way. If they followed Darien's advice, they would probably rest near or in the village. That shouldn't be much of a problem, as they could probably get a meal in the local inn, saving their rations for when they truly moved out of civilised area. Figuring that Darien would be smart enough to figure this out by himself, and that the woman would find out soon enough, Artax still maintained silence and said nothing for or against Darien's idea whatsoever. He was still riding along with them, and that would have to do as a means of telling them he had no qualms with the suggested way of travelling. The next issue on his mind was how he was going to get rid of the gems Artun XVII so generously gave them. Those gems were valuable enough to buy a piece of land, perhaps even put down a house. But they weren't going to buy a house, they were riding straight out of the realms. Artax didn't know much about the lands across the border, but he doubted there would be a lot of persons who could offer them something worthy of those gems. And he didn't feel like taking them with him all the time. The gems were so small, they were too easily lost or stolen. He would have to figure out a way to carry them with him without the chance they might fall out of his pockets. Then, Czarrath suggested something, and Artax' lips twisted into an unseen smile behind his shawl.

Darien merely set his horse moving a little faster, speaking to Amberlyn predominantly, as Artax seemed happy to keep his own counsel, "Then as a majority, I think we've carried the vote. The village it is. If nothing else, we should be able to gain some information about the situation we find ourselves in there; ahead of us is Atal and it's sole purpose of being these days is currying gossip and information for the Empire." Darien neglected to mention that he knew this because he used the village's rumourmongers regularly for information on his targets; some things were better left unsaid, in case they were used against him later.

"'Goodmorning kind sir, does thou have any details to offer on the mysterious Lords of the Plains and yon hideouts?' Oh yes, I can absolutly see that happening." Artax said with evident traces of sarcasm. 'Perhaps if you torture them, they'll tell you more. Even if most of it is made up, it'll be worthwhile for the fun alone.' Czarrath suggested to Artax. "But very well, we might find ourselves blessed by Lady Fortune." Artax thought about that for a minute, him actually recieving a blessing, and from Lady Fortune nonetheless, and that seemed ery funny to him. Without much of a warning he fell into a fit of laughter, which wasn't very loud but still clearly audible.

Darien smiled, almost to himself, as Artax began to laugh. He wasn't without a sense of humour, after all, it was just odd. "As funny as it may be to mock the rumourmongers here, it is likely they know something. If not, perhaps they can shed some light on your history, Mercenary, seeing as you feel ill-obliged to voice it for yourself." The smile turned to a sneer, Darien thinking that he might well do that; if his informants hadn't had their throats cut, then they probably would know something about Artax.

Amberlyn could sense the animosity between the two men, Darien being the more sane half of it. Testosterone... she thought, smiling to herself.

"Gentlemen, we haven't all day to bicker. If we are to find this information Darien speaks of, we shouldn't waste our time worrying about such meaningless things. I would much rather be paid than killed." She eased her mare ahead of the two, just in case they chose to start up again.

"Oh, but thou hast already been paid my dear. All that remains now are the swords of thirty-thousand warriors over the yonder." Artax chuckled. He didn't even get angry at Darien's apparent threat to find out about him through the rumourmongers. Artax thought his reputation was bloody enough to at least make some impression, and that might keep the little assassin and his daggers away during the night. He did feel like pointing out something. "Thou hasn't been very clear on thy own history either, assassin. A Lesser Assassin, nonetheless, of the Guild of the Lily. I am no fool, but I am not familiar with the guilds of cutthroats and murderers. I know nothing about them. Why is thy Guild involved with this little matter? Did our 'beloved' Artun send any other of thy brethren across the border? Many questions rise, and thou hast but answered one." 'At least the woman thinks your history is meaningless. I don't think you'll be wooing her anytime soon, my dear boy. But you could of course always speed things up...' 'What about her magics?' 'Ah, she doesn't even know how to use those herself, you'll be fine' In his head Czarrath began a fit of laughter much like his own a few moments before.

Darien's demeanour didn't change, his response completely matter-of-fact as he addressed both Artax and Amberlyn together, "That is because there is not much to tell. I am a Lesser Assassin because it is another term for Lesser Master of Assassination, a rank I have earned many times over my short life. I am not a Greater Assassin, or even a Master Assassin, so named because they have perfected our art, because I am not popular; I live alone, apart from the Guild, dealing little in their politics and even less with their people. I have no idea if we have previously been contracted to carry out an attempt on these enemies of ours, but I find it likely. As for my own involvement, it is possible that the Guild has a hand in my being dragged out of bed in the middle of the night to answer that summons, but believe me when I say that if it weren't for those palace uniforms, those men would never have trod the ground within five feet of me." If I were feeling generous, he added mentally, recalling the hasty cutting of a safety line he'd severed moments before the guards had rushed through his door, only because he heard them state their business to his apartment's owner before barging up the stairs. "Does that answer everything, Mercenary?

"Hardly Assassin, as the story of thy life or thy motivation is of little concern to me. I was merely reflecting thy own shroud of mystery." Artax replied with a grin, although nobody could see this. He looked forward, to the village, thinking of what the near future might bring. Somewhere inside himself, he felt he was getting pumped for the hunt. It's been a long while since he tracked down a foe such as the Lords of the Plains. He could already imagine the battles, and the bloodshed, the red fields of war, and the great anticipation of the final kill. Even Czarrath was getting poetic about it. 'Oh what sweet future awaits, my child, such sweet bloodred future.'

"End this childish behavior, the both of you!" Amberlyn turned in her saddle to voice her opinion. "We're supposed to work together, not be at each other's throats. Only a few hours into our quest and already you bicker as though you were married." She turned back forward and hummed to herself a soft lullaby. She missed her violin greatly, but it was hardly useful in battle. It had to be left behind.

"M'lady, we were merely getting to know eachother. It was quite innocent, thou must know. If a men such as our Assassin and myself hath been at eachother's throat, the matter would have been resolved within a minute. And as thou can clearly see, thou art worrying for nothing, for we live still." Artax replied, with a small fit of laughter again when he finished. If this woman thought she could be the mother of this small group, she would find her children to be quite the burden. Artax knew himself, and Czarrath, and knew they did not fare wel with authority unless it paid them quite well. And Darien didn't seem like a man to simply obey a woman he hardly knew, even if he was a rational and calm man. Czarrath mentally grinned. 'I know this little Artun-bearded person told you to work together, but this woman is meddlesome. She'll be in the way. Maybe a stray arrow in combat? A little accident with a sword, no? Forgetting to mention it when a bear charges at her? Overlooking a small but lethal trap door? We can figure something out, yessss, we can...'

Darien nodded, placing a hand lightly on the dagger at his hip. "He has a point, Amberlyn. One or the other of us would probably now be some ways back down the road. As we still both ride, trust me when we say we were not, as you said, at each other's throats." It was a matter-of-fact statement, but neither of the other two could mistake the emphasis laid upon the final word in his speech. There was almost a longing, held well in check, but still the vestiges could be heard in his tone.

Artax looked at the assassin, thinking the man should watch his tongue a bit. But he didn't say this, and turned his head back to the road ahead. 'I guess he enjoys his work as well.' Czarrath mumbled, if such a thing could be done within one's head. This whole cooperation ordeal was going to be tough on his tolerance levels. Not really seeing any reasons to speak to the other two, he started chatting with Czarrath about the near future.

As the three rode in silence, they made their way steadily into the village ahead. As it was still fairly early, there was none of the expected hustle and bustle as the locals made their way about their business, but the occasional cart could be seen, possibly local farmers bringing in crops. To the left, branching away from the main road, the travellers could see a small culdesac which seemed to be a pale imitation of a business district, while further on and to the right was a road leading off to the edge of Atal where the mayor lived. Directly ahead, on the right side of the road, was a small inn by the named of 'The Cockerel'; by the smoke rising from the chimney, it seemed that the inn lived up to it's name. Even from several hundred yards away Darien, Amberlyn and Artax could smell the breakfast being cooked there for the guests.

Artax remained silent as he rode on to the inn. He remembered agreeing with the other two to come here to have some food before they rode out, so that they wouldn't have to adress their supplies yet. Figuring that was exactly what he meant to do, he stopped at the inn, and dismounted. He secured his horse to whatever suitable pole he could find, and waited for the others to get down as well.

Darien also dismounted, tying off his horse to the same pole and breathing in the deep scent. Porridge and bacon, from the smell of it; promising. Checking his purse for a couple of coins, the price of breakfast at The Cockerel, he smoothed down the mane on his horse, which seemed rather wild and unruly.



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