Part 8: Humanity

 

“We've done a good job dealing with those who once served Brevshket," Kayd said and sunk a red-capped pin into the cork-backed map. One of ten pins scattered about south east Vliechov, then he pointed at two other locations that were near the clan grounds. “Yet we cannot strike at the last two. One is housed in the overcave town of Werchid and the other is hiding like a damned coward in Brevshket's old haunt, Castle Jorsviek."

The broad shouldered warchief ran his hand over his deep blue scaled muzzle as he stared at the map in thought.

Despite already knowing a few potential solutions, Kayl remained silent. She had already read the reports, so this briefing was almost entirely for Irven's benefit, and was one he had to hear. Kayl instead looked around the room. She used to hold these briefings here every day, but as the clan Exemplar, it was no longer her responsibility. She almost felt homesick.

It was a dusty old room, filled with maps, charts and reports posted in shelves categorised on date, involvement in current missions and importance, all in small boxes with coded markers. An entire wall was taken up by a map of the known world, which Kayl knew was out of date and showed signs of fading with age, but it didn't matter.

This small portion of Vliechov had been all but forgotten, and Clan Star-Sail's silent war with Brevshket had taken so long and so much focus, the rest of the world might as well have faded into obscurity in turn. Perhaps once this operation was complete, they could once more look outside of the Havsglas region and maybe even make contact with other kobold clans. Brevshket had been the clan's main foe before even Kayl's century of life, let alone after Brevshket managed to transform himself into a scalecaster with the body Kraerivan, the clan dragonlord Praevadi's mate.

Irven scratched his firm chin-hairs and shrugged. “Jorsviek I understand, but what's so different about Werchid compared to, say," he pointed to one of the pins and said, “Greldova? I take it we had no trouble there?"

Kayd chuckled. “What indeed, drakeling." He took a smaller map from a side-table and unfurled it, weighing the paper down on opposite corners with a few coloured pebbles. “Look. It isn't just a town any more. The man-kin we seek must have been either scared by Brevshket's death or he's been keeping his sticky-out nose to the wind, because he secured that town before we got our hands on the list of Brevshket's cohorts. We've almost lost several of our best in that deathtrap of a town already, so we need another strategy."

The map, simple but accurate in its design as a scout map should be, depicted a smaller town, but one surrounded with barricades, checkpoints and manned outposts. Lots of coded markings lined each detail; six footsoldiers here, two archers there. The words 'spring-bolters' appeared with worrying regularity all over the map, something Kayl had heard in passing but hadn't had a chance to look into exactly what they were.

Besides these regular patrols through the streets and alleys at night, humanity's mechanical prowess was on full display in the central area of the town; a lot of guess work from the scouts meant the usually precise teams charting the town couldn't penetrate the district, just a handful of schematics of devices they had glances at but were forced to withdraw before any details were gathered. Even beyond the supposed deathtrap centre, modern sparker-lit lamps on every main road meant even the paths least travelled would prove extremely difficult to infiltrate without being spotted.

Kayl patted Irven's hand and explained as she gestured place to place. “It's too risky, look. They've set up the middle of the town specifically to resist kobold infiltration. I suspect spark traps to blind and dazzle us, complete with what I would guess is some sort of alarm system based on the cable linkages described here."

The warchief growled under his breath. “And that doesn't even cover how they've got those spring-bolters with every patrol. Weapons that have been seen to loose bolts clean through our best shields and the armoured kobold behind it. These should be something you should be familiar with, drakeling, since you used to live in the place they were invented."

Irven nibbled his lip, but nodded his head. “I probably helped work out some of their design. I remember several metallurgy, world-physics and mathematics lessons tied to launching reinforced bolts at high velocity with precision and perfect tolerance of the forces at play."

Kayl tilted her head. “For once, I feel a little behind. I take it these spring-bolters have only recently come into play?"

Kayd nodded and took out another sketch of a long device. It had the shoulder stock of a larger crossbow, akin to a dragonhunter hand-held arbalest, but it lacked the 'bow' that sat across the body. Instead, the schematic was a confusing mix of gears, cogs, springs and other man-kin designed parts but was capped with a pipe, and a drawing of a bolt made of pure metal, rather than a wooden bodied crossbow bolt, and the fletching was stiffened to endure the higher speeds.

Irven's mouth fell open as he took the page and studied it. He looked distant, as he often did when reminded of his horrible past in Jorsviek.

He gulped and took a deep breath. “Yes, I recognise this all too well. An improvement over the weapons used to hunt dragons, able to propel harder, heavier bolts farther through a miniaturised form of a crossbow's mechanics, using very precise star-metal and iron alloys for much of the inner workings." He placed the page on the table and began pointing and making gestures with his finger. “The tube is essentially the flight guide, there's no need for a stirrup, the prod and retention spring are replaced with these linkages that could cycle-" Irven stopped and glanced at the two kobolds.

Kayl was confused but she was didn't want to interrupt, but Kayd just gave him a blank stare with vacant, narrowed eyes.

Irven laughed meekly and scratched his head. “Uh, that is to say Provost Brevshket made all the moving parts of a crossbow very, very small, but very, very durable. As well as capable of working at such magnitudes of torque that..." he caught himself again and simplified, “like Kayd said, the bolts can punch clean through even the best armours available, shy of star-metal. In summary, Provost Brevshket has designed a weapon that's as easy, if not easier, to use than a regular crossbow or dragon hunting alternative. He could even make them fitted with a box magazine so it could be used repeatedly in rapid succession. The only thing holding him back was the 'coil drone.'"

Kayl frowned. “What in drake-spit is coil drone?"

“Star-metal has a great deal of magic within," Irven said as he tapped his fingertips together. “Based on Kedorvad's theorem, as in the rule that magic is most efficiently able to manifest by vibration and sound, this means that the springs that power the bolters build such a potent vibration over time, it can have... less than ideal effects, on both the wielders of such weapons and their victims. I remember Provost Brevshket designing all sorts of equipment to prevent these adverse reactions."

“You're not wrong," Kayd said and took the schematic back. “Many of our less careful scouts found that when they weren't hit by those bolts, they reported feeling dazed and disorientated after several volleys. They've got most of the scouts terrified at approaching and even the ones that do have been getting sloppy out of fear, which is why we've been training you to fight all this time, Irven."

Irven narrowed his eyes and his nose twitched. “You want me to infiltrate the town and assassinate the target."

Kayl grinned at her mate with pride. He always was sharp.

The warchief nodded. “Glad you're keeping up. Yeah, that's the long and short of it, but it's more involved than that. Since we can't risk a land-infiltration, and I don't even think we could use a star-sail to drop an assassin close enough without being noticed. You, as the perfect picture of humanity that you are, should be able to get in and at uncover more details before ending the skin-rag. You should know from Kayl's lessons, assassinations aren't clean and quick like those stupid books you keep reading."

“I'm aware," Irven said, giving Kayl a little smile. “I suppose I'll be living with my own kin for a time. I don't know how well I'll meld in, of course; most of my previous human experience has been from other students under Provost Brevshket and the bastard himself."

“You'll be fine, you've just gotta act like a human.“ Kayd gave a sardonic grin. “Y'know, be obsessed with making money, but not hoarding it for the All-Dragon, and instead of buying increasingly gaudy, shiny things. Also not sharing a thing if you won't get something in return. Don't worry, we'll give you some gold so you can buy whatever you need in the town, but beyond that, you'll be on your own."

Kayl cleared her throat. “I'll go with him."

Kayd sneered and leaned on the table. “In case you didn't notice, the town's paranoid about kobolds. You won't be able to operate without risking yourself and driving the filth even deeper into hiding."

“You seem to forget that I don't answer to you, brother," Kayl said, folded her arms and gave her sibling a stare. “It's also unfair to expect Irven to take this responsibility alone. I have an alternative plan." She climbed up Irven's back and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “It's still White-Soil, so winter's far from over. Irven can wear his armoured coat, which is thick enough that I can steal away with him until he reaches one of those... oh, what are they called?" She looked aside hopefully at her mate. “The places where humans have to pay coin just to sleep?"

“Inns or hotels," Irven answered, in Vliechoven.

“Right, those," Kayl nuzzled her mate's neck then hopped off his back. “I can hide in the room and advise him on what to do while also performing a little reconnaissance myself, if safe to do so. When the time comes, depending on the circumstances, I may even be able to assist with the target as well."

Kayd sighed and, as he turned away, his tail whipped the leg of the table with a thump. “Not like I can argue with the clan exemplar. Fine. We can have Scoutmaster Roat observe the town as well, because if you mess this up, the town won't be shy in stringing up the both of you and maybe even mounting an attack on us in turn."

“It's fine," Irven said and grinned. “I won't disappoint you."

As Kayd returned the pins, pebbles, maps and scrolls, Kayl thought about what to bring for a mission to a human town, but another possible problem arose. She looked up at her mate and asked, “Irven? I understand you've killed before, but that was a chaotic and desperate last stand against Brevshket's men and his protector. Are you really comfortable with hunting someone down like this? It's a very different task and requires very different skills."

Irven nodded at her. “It's what I've been trained for. Most of my life has been a case of learning, using and mastering skills, and being expected to do so without hesitation of failure. I don't see this as anything notably different."

“It's not just one skill. It's many. The difference between reacting to a swing and actually knowing precisely when to counter-attack without exposing yourself have very little to do with each other." Kayl clutched her hands together, tapping the softer scales of her palm against her thumb claw. “I suppose I'm fretting over nothing. We can't afford to wait long; for our dragonlord, we must finish bringing Brevshket and his ilk down before she her time to return to the All-Dragon arrives."

Irven looked confused, then snapped his fingers. “Right, the final gift of peaceful slumber. So she can join her mate with no anger or sorrow as she is re-spun and reborn by the All-Dragon."

“It is all that any drake or kobold can ask for. It was what fuelled my desire to assassinate Brevshket during my years in exile, yet I did not do so in haste, nor hate. It was my only mission, and you provided an opportunity. I would have spent as long as needed to kill him. Months, years... whatever it took. Yet, when the moment was ripe, I executed him in a few minutes of preparation. You would do well to replicate my achievement."

Irven's expression tightened. “Even at the expense of our own lives?"

They shared a look, and Kayl grimaced back but stood firm. “Yes. Such is a kobolds place, even for an exemplar. But come, my mate, let us prepare."

* *

Irven examined at his travel supplies. The usual foodstuffs, water, spare clothes and the like, which he packed into a large satchel. He found himself glaring at his coat between items.

It once belonged to Brevshket. A sturdy, shin-length greatcoat of dark, waterproof-wax covered leather, lined on the inside with bear fur that could be removed by unfastening a few buttons for warmer weather, but the clever part was what was within the protective inner padding. Irven knew it was lined with chainmail and plates of high grade star-steel in a form similar to brigandine armour, though completely concealed. Irven suspected Brevshket wanted people to try and kill him. Exposure to invite betrayal to weed out his foes.

Also knowing his former mentor's affluence, the armoured insides were probably extremely high purity star-steel at that. The gears and cogs of the spring-bolters were in the range of ten to fifteen percent star-metal, which could withstand all but the hardest smack of a smith's hammer without bending despite the tiny things being as thin as paper in places. Local lords and even knights from far-off Bralran would earn swords around half purity as symbols of office and rank. Such weapons could sunder steel as easy as wood and not suffer any blunting.

This coat could likely withstand a bite from a dragon. The wearer would be dead, since the chainmail within wasn't rigid and the segmented plates were interlocked and hinged rather than a full, rigid breastplate, but the metal would be perfectly intact. No blade or spear could penetrate it unless it was of a near-grade or purer alloy. It hadn't saved its former owner from Kayl's ambush, where she punctured his skull with her spear. Even so, Irven couldn't help but be grateful to have such a marvellous piece of clothing, considering he was entering the land of his enemy and kin, armed with weapons that made conventional armour useless.

He was just missing one thing, however. A weapon. And not the borrowed sabre he had been wielding ever since meeting Kayl. A true, personal weapon as befitting the mate of the clan exemplar. He had his magic, and had made great strides in refining his technique, but a good blade was still the standard. For both the clan, and in human civilisation.

As if on cue, Kayl opened their door and waved at him. “They're just putting the final touches on him now. All he needs is to be severed and the final bonding enacted."

Irven put the greatcoat down and followed Kayl through the upper halls. They passed a few cavern wall openings that revealed the deep blue of an early morning sky, still dark enough for the kobolds to not be dazzled, but with enough light that Irven could see a few of the clan practising on the clan namesake kites as they glided the Havsglas mountain air eddies at their leisure and for practice.

He recalled reading in the clan history books that, in times past and before Brevshket took over the region, rival kobold clans would routinely challenge each other for the glory of their dragonlords. Those that would attack Star-Sail were often defeated by star-sail riders peppering them with javelins, chemical bombs and more from above. Secured to the great cloth wings on lightweight wooden frames, steering by rudders attached to their tails, they could fly out on their gliders, drop their payloads and return to the mountain to resupply without getting close to the great, open plain at the foot of the mountain. It must have been breathtaking to watch.

Even now, with mostly novices at play on in the skies, he could have watched them for hours, lazily floating hither and thither, but sadly Kayl was already at the door back inside the uppermost floor of the clan grounds and waited beside the great protective door of the Drendaxa Arboretum.

Inside was a miniature forest of small, six foot tall trees at the canopy, protected from the winds by the upper mountain walls but exposed overhead to allow light from the sun. Each tree was thin and vibrant green, with amber leaves that sprouted at the top and smaller, greener sprouts along the trunks. Each tree was fenced in as a small group of kobolds wearing thick, padded suits tended to them; some watering, others charting the trees growth and a small alchemist station had a large suite of apparatus, but most notable was a row of vials containing blood.

These weren't any ordinary trees. They were kin to the living wood of Kayl's spear, Paet, or Kayd's horse-cutter, Boez. Drendaxa trees, with the cultivated wood being called drenda. The clan was secretive of this place, but Irven had known they had been grooming him for this purpose for some time, taking small samples of his blood from as early as six months ago. Finally, in the last two weeks, he had come up here to feed his tree directly from his body.

Drenda wood was extremely difficult to cultivate and all but impossible by anyone without magic in the blood since it rendered its use moot. The drendaxa trees absorbed water like any plant, but they grew by drinking mana, the common term for magic-rich blood. The trees would attack those with magic within them if approached, but through careful introduction and gradual dependency, drenda wood became sympathetic to an owner, eventually acting with a will of its own for the benefit of its host.

This trait was why Irven was able to wield Paet, because rescuing Kayl was in the drenda's best interest. The kobolds insisted properly harvested drenda was its own living entity, but Irven still held that it was little more than a form of imitation of the host; the will of the mana of the wielder duplicated in the wood.

As Irven entered, he knew not to go too close to any of the trees. Several of the thin stems coiled like serpents preparing to strike as they could no doubt sense the rich mana within him and Kayl. He instead kept near the wall as he found his way to his own tree, which had been pruned of its upper limbs. Like the other trees, it reached down towards him, but slowly and gracefully, like a well trained pet.

Irven said, “good morning, Heun."

He stroked the tree, and the drendaxa returned the gesture by coiling a leafy tendril around and through his fingers. No thorns, no constriction, just gentle affection.

One of the arboretum kobolds said, “good, he seems completely docile, even after being starved for over a week. He's ready to be cultivated, but are you ready? This won't be pleasant for either of you."

Heun either responded to the words or Irven's own reaction of tensing up, but the tree coiled around his arm in earnest as Irven clenched his jaw, and nodded. He muttered, “it's funny, all this slow preparation and secretive rituals, all to come down to being clipped like a weed..."

The arborist held out a broad headed axe to Kayl. “If you would, Exemplar?"

Kayl took a deep breath, brandished the axe, made a few practice swings, then looked up at Irven. “It will only be for a moment. Trust me."

“Do it," Irven said through his teeth.

With a precise chop, Kayl severed Heun at the roots.

Dark green sap squirted out the sliced stem as Heun writhed and snaked as in silent agony. Thorns sprouted along its length and into Irven's arm as he hissed in pain. The drenda sapped his blood on reflex to its own survival and Irven knelt as he groaned. Once past the initial shock, he put a gentle hand over the severed drenda and grunted, “easy, Heun, easy... it's alright."

The wood grew darker, tingeing purple as it drank deeply of his blood, but soon calmed. It straightened out as Irven held on to the five foot shaft, and Kayl wrapped a length of medically treated gauze over his many small thorn punctures. Heun's severed stem also wrapped in on itself, sealing the cut.

The arborist smiled and said, “congratulations, Irven, you're now the proud host of a true drenda. I know you've read the book, but remember; practice with him regularly, feed him weekly, and talk with him when you can; drenda can hear just as well as you or I."

Irven moved to stand, only for Heun to thrust itself against the ground and help push him upright. “Huh, it's already eager to help, it seems."

“He," Kayl corrected. “He's eager to help."

Irven raised an eyebrow. “I understand naming, but is it necessary to sex these drenda? It's a plant. It doesn't have a gender." He smirked as Heun bended up and over his body, wrapping around him like a bandoleer.

“While true," the arborist said, “he's a non-flowering variant. It's tradition to consider them male."

Kayl nodded and folded her arms. “The flowering variants are for the Speaker and master alchemist alone as symbols of power. Besides, the act of bonding is far more involved and dangerous to the wielder, since it involves developing an immunity to their toxin, which is lethal to kobolds, let alone humans. They also can't grow thorns, and simply are dangerous to touch."

The arborist poured some powder over the Heun's severed stump and roots, then said, “if that's all, you had best be going, and swiftly."

Kayl smiled. “Right, we still need to collect Irven's blade for Heun and-"

The arborist cut her off with, “I'm serious. The other drendaxa will sense the blood spilt and turn violent if you don't. All respect to you, Exemplar, but get him out of here immediately."

Irven and Kayl gave each other a wide eyed glance and sheepishly obeyed.

* *

“I don't know, Kayl... I'm so used to a war sabre, getting used to a polearm's going to take a while."

Kayl finished sharpening her cross-spear's head and looked at her mate.

Heun, now traditionally green after having absorbed the excess mana from his severance, was currently affixed to what was best described as a thinner, longer version of Kayd's horse-cutter; a weapon that was a little over half grip and with a long, single edged blade. Kayd's might paired well with the heft of such a weapon but to Irven's human proportions and limber, though still muscular, build, it didn't seem a good fit.

“Polearms are simply a superior weapon for kobolds," Kayl sighed and approached her mate. “Reach enough to fight most side-sword wielding humans and easier to puncture standard infantry armours. I understand it may seem crude, but have you considered a cudgel? Or a war-pick? Those long limbs of yours should give you plenty of leverage, and you're certainly strong enough to make a solid strike with such a thing."

Irven did that funny thing humans do with his lips where he pushed them forwards, like horses do to pluck food from something without biting, but without parting them (a pout, she believed it was called) and removed the sabre blade from Heun. He then approached the weapon rack and retrieved a weapon of West Vliechoven design, a bec de corbin, or crow's beak. A thin spear tip, a robust, titular crow-beak like spike on one side and a toothed, armour crumpling bludgeon on the back. Only the strongest kobolds ever wielded such a thing, and it only ever saw use with specialised teams since armoured foes were still best dealt with by teams of billhook and spear teams. The former to catch, snare and drag, and the latter to strike at the gaps in their foe's armour.

Kayl attached her spear-head onto Paet, who wrapped around the tang and threaded the small spaces for grip, and she then made him wrap around her so the spear was flat against her back, then made space as Irven held the hammer head to Heun.

The drenda took hold, then sagged a little from the weight. “Oh, a bit much? Alright, thicken up and shorten, Heun."

At his word, the living wood obeyed. He bulged at the base like a dragon's long neck swallowing large prey, bunching up until he was two thirds as long yet wider. Irven then made a few practice swings, leaning heavily into each arc with enough force to crush platemail.

Kayl tutted and tapped the paler blue scales of her chin. “You can swing him just fine, but your footwork is all over the place. I wish we had time to give you more practice, but we really have to be on our way by sundown."

“Forget it then. I'll just take my sabre and I can use Heun as, oh, I don't know, a walking stick?"

Heun spat the hammer head out with a heavy thud and writhed out of his master's grip, reacting to either the insult or some subconscious order. He snaked back to where Irven had placed the hilt-less sabre, climbed and coiled around the weapon.

Irven huffed. “Heun, come back here. We don't have time for... wait, what are you doing?"

The drenda fully contained the blade, but remained on the rack as Irven approached and grabbed him. Heun then pushed the sword out from Irven's grip, like a retractable blade, formed a solid handle around the tang and, with the rest of his length, made a loose coil around Irven's arm.

Kayl tittered. “Well, that could certainly work. A little extra protection and a scabbard as well in one practical package. Though perhaps keep a side-sword on your belt so as to not arouse suspicion when in town. It's common practice to remain armed at all times in man-kin settlements so an obvious sword would be helpful and Heun doesn't exactly resemble a normal weapon."

Irven took a few swings, comfortable with the form and technique of the curved blade from his months practising with Kayd with a similar weapon. After a few precise cuts through the air, he brought Heun down to his hip, where the drenda once more enveloped the blade and wrapped a few tendrils around Irven's belt, then fully released his arm, just like a sword in its scabbard. Then Irven snatched up the weapon and, in the time it took for him to complete the swing, Heun was once more the hilt and a protective coiling vine.

He laughed. “Oh, I could get used to this! Good boy, Heun!"

* * *

Irven felt nostalgic as he left Star-Sail's grounds: it was evening, rather than dawn, but he was clad in the same coat, complete with Kayl clutched on his back within his coat, though in a special sling for comfort. He had back then arrived with nothing to his name but what he had scavenged from the fateful death of Brevshket, but now he travelled fully prepared. The extra weight was mitigated by the fact Irven knew he was stronger than back then. Possibly an inch or two taller as well.

It was like one of the human books he had read, about boys growing up to forge their own path, only those stories would often end with marriage to a long-standing or hard fought-for sweetheart. Although his was anything but; he was married, or mate bonded, with someone he had only known for two days at the time. Not that he was complaining then, nor now; Kayl was his mentor and lover, and excelled at both.

What was also different to those stories was how he wasn't going out to vanquish some monster or bandit. Irven was to slay one of his own, a human. To kill a man known only by his alias in Provost Brevshket's retinue of weapon merchants and compatriots.

Kreshger, he was called. An old Vliechoven word for a brute or a thug. It followed a naming convention, amidst other figures such as other old tongue words for Vagrant, Hooligan, Arsonist and the like. Only Kreshger had both a name and a way to access them, with one called Sirvegic, or hunter (specifically people, like a bounty hunter or stalker), housed in Castle Jorsviek.

Nigh untouchable as Sirvegic was, that was a task for another day, so he set his gaze down and walked west until dawn. They made camp in a small scout hideout hauntingly similar to the camp Kayl had made back when they first met.

They left camp in the afternoon after a good morning's rest, and it still took until nightfall to reach the first signs of footpaths, albeit crude ones between the snow-covered brush and trees that surrounded the mountains. Then, as the moon reached its apex, a paved road and signposts. He could even see the parapets of Castle Jorsviek against the clear twilight sky, but his destination led him farther still. Miles passed through the long night and Irven didn't pass a single soul, but he noticed the presence of trees with ribbons nailed into them, then felled trees, then stumps.

Then he crested a hill, with several water pumps piercing the uneven, trodden snow like little, dark monoliths piercing a layer of clouds. Several metal chutes lined the downhill slope, filled with a thin sheet of ice and slabs of stone beneath them, covered in ashes. The sturdy metal trails ran the full length of the steady gradient down the slope.

Irven sighed a puff of vapour. “We're close. Log flumes."

Kayl poked her head out of his collar to take a look. “Typical human laziness. It would take a few kobold timber-runner teams and, at worst, a couple of telekinesitists to do what all this wasted metal achieves." She untucked an arm from Irven's coat and made a quick gesture with her fingers, a motion Irven knew was her invoking her telekinesis. A cylinder of snow floated from the ground, which with a snap of her fingers and another gesture of her aquamancy magic, packed in and hardened, which she flung down the hill at high speed.

She grinned, then said, “just so."

“There's nothing wrong with a little ingenuity for the magically inept. You can call it laziness but humans thrive on the surface for a reason, despite their need for money-grubbing specialists and ever-needy workers, rather than the kobold standard of a couple of leaders with huge teams operating beneath them."

He focused on the ice within the chute, smirked as he 'felt' the space between his hand and the chute connect through the ambient magic in the air, and raised his arm. A large, pristine, flat sheet of ice cracked free from the flume and hovered in the air. It glistened in the moonlight as he toyed with it, rotating it and appreciating the lens-like clarity of the ice, the subtle staining of tree sap in spots and even a hint of rust from one of the screws used to hold the metal in place.

He slowly closed his hand into a fist, and the sheet snapped in two, then quartered, then eighths as the sheet collapsed into a snowball, which he launched at the side of a chute with a flick of the wrist. The plated metal rung like a dull bell and its echo filled the silent night with a haunting tone. Satisfied with toying with his ever-refining powers, and as his mentor tucked herself back into his coat, he continued onward.

The slope down soon gave way to stone steps, which became more and more frequent as they finally caught sight of the town of Werchid.

Besides a well lit, brazier lined path, the town was surrounded by wooden palisades, watchtowers and a high stone wall. Werchid was almost as much a fortress as Castle Jorsviek, just far wider. Soldiers dressed in heavy furs and brigandine armour stood complete with spring-bolters, crossbows and side-swords. They all watched his approach, but a couple raised a hand to one another, which wordlessly seemed to order the others to resume keeping watch. The self-volunteered pair of bolter-men braced their weapons on the watchtower ledges in specially cut grooves, but they didn't aim for Irven. Yet.

One of them hollered, “remain on the path. Do not deviate. Do not reach for any weapons. Do have any trade papers ready as appropriate, or pay the anti-vagrancy charge!"

Irven raised his hand to acknowledge the orders, smirked at hearing full sentences in Vliechoven for the first time in over a year, and finished his approach towards the town.

The distrustful gazes of the gate guards were outright unusual to Irven. Having grown up in Castle Jorsviek, he was an established student and servant under the Provost. In Clan Star-Sail, kobolds implicitly trusted their clan-mates and nobody dared defy their place. Here, the guards brought their bolters into hand, these ones affixed with bayonets, as a third guard approached him with an opened book, pen in hand.

“Name. Occupation. Reason of arrival outside of daytime hours."

Irven answered, “My name is Irven. I am a traveller, and I got lost in the wilderness."

The guard squinted at him. “There are no 'travellers' permitted in Werchid. Either state an occupation or get lost."

“Any particular reason?"

“Orders of the mayor. I'm not going to repeat myself."

Irven sighed, pondered for a moment, then grinned. “I'm also an alchemist, arcanist, herbologist, scholar and a sellsword of- ow!"

Kayl retracted her claw from his side and tapped him twice, once, and once again in a quick sequence; stop talking and focus on the objective, in touch-scout code.

The guard raised an eyebrow. “Arcanist? You're too young. Are you even registered at the Institute?"

“Non-practising," Irven hastily replied. “I just study the topic in hopes of becoming one. Sorry, I get a little carried away sometimes."

The guard jotted down a few notes, turned to the gate, nodded, then looked at Irven and said, “That will be fifty kheva. Ten for entry, half of the remaining coin provided will be paid to the hotel of your choice upon delivery of the slip provide shortly to ensure and enforce article four, line ten of the Werchid town charter: vagrancy will not be tolerated, on punishment of three strikes to the brow with a truncheon and ejection from the town. The other half shall be returned if you leave on the morn, or also be paid to the hotel if you remain. Remaining without further payment will be reported and article four, line ten shall be enacted if you do not pay from your own pocket. Is this understood?"

“Yes, sir," Irven replied. He took out a handful of small, angular gold coins, picked out three fifteens and a five and handed them to the guard.

“And do not deviate from the main streets! All side roads are gated and locked anyway, but if you're seen lurking near them, you will be taken in on article four, line ten! Am I understood?"

Irven stood to attention. “Yes, sir!"

“Good," the guard tore off a strip of perforated paper and handed it to Irven. “If you're stopped by the nightwatch, ask them for the nearest hotel and they will expect you to head there, promptly. The Lavender is the nearest. Straight ahead, second block on the right."

The strip had all the details he had divulged, which Irven pocketed and entered the town itself after passing through two, layered walls.

Lampposts lined the streets, each aglow and illuminating the flagstones and their fine dusting of snow, the tiny crystals glittering a golden colour as Irven passed by. The buildings were built with thick timber, reinforced with pebbled mortar, and while it was a small town, it was very modern in its design.

Irven assumed that any former allies of Provost Brevshket would have access to his old contacts, so this wasn't too surprising. It also likely meant it had some of the modern conveniences Brevshket had in his fort, such as running hot water and even mechanical elevators in the important buildings. Even the lampposts were housing wind-up sparking devices, small kinetic generators that popped with electricity to light the wicks, fuelled by liquid paraffin.

Irven hated how it made him think of Castle Jorsviek. He couldn't tell if he felt homesick or afraid of entering a place so closely associated with his former master. He adjusted his collar and followed the directions towards The Lavender hotel.

* *

Kayl breathed a sigh of relief as the presence, sound and smell of other humans dwindled and Irven walked through the streets. She dared not take a look until she was given the all clear, but it was a rare experience to be inside of a man-kin town, though her reasons for doing so were almost always the same; entry to overcaver settlements almost always ended in blood.

Dragonlord Praevadi would sometimes speak of days before Vliechov's domination over the continent, when dragons truly ruled. Kobolds would raid smaller villages with little retribution so long as few, if any, lives were taken on both sides, and dragons could even demand offerings every once in a while. But as Brevshket gained power, the towns began to ward off kobold raids, and when he slew Praevadi's mate and corrupted his form to make him nigh untouchable, his ever-greater powers made him the true ruler of the lands, beholden only to the oligarchy, and even that was often rumoured to be in question.

The humans feared and obeyed Brevshket with such reverence that everyone adopted his weapons and tactics at a mere suggestion. Kayl cast off her neonate scales and learned most of her trade infiltrating towns during these difficult times. Silent, small team raids to steal specialist supplies like herbs, maps and books still took place. She remembered that, when being spotted, towns would mount a ridiculous level of defence of their settlements, and for so long, scouts had no choice but to excel. To be what would normally be exemplar worthy as the new standard.

This was how Kayl was banished from Clan Star-Sail. A rare opportunity as Brevshket inspected a town's defences, and she led a team of her very best scouts on an assassination mission. She was so desperate to claim his life that she broke the first rule of being scoutmaster; attack not in hate, nor in rage as consuming fire.

Strike calm, as placid as the drowning lake, as sudden and ignored as the falling icicle. The way Kayl recovered her place in Clan Star-Sail, and earned her place as exemplar, was a monument to this method. The opportunity was sudden, but her execution immaculate.

Her thoughts were interrupted as Irven entered a building, the creeping chill even within his coat giving way to a gentle warmth.

“Saints breath, you're out early," a male human voice said, trailing off into a yawn. “But I'm being a poor host. Welcome to The Lavender. I trust you have your slip?"

Kayl heard Irven hand over the paper and he said, “I've been travelling for a while. I'd like something hot to eat and a room, please."

The two humans bantered back and forth about the weather and what was on the menu, though Kayl stopped paying too much attention; overcave tongue continued to exhaust her mind for long durations, and Irven seemed to have things under control. He moved over to a table and sat (far enough forward to give Kayl space to stay comfortable), ate, and then stood just as a few other humans arrived in the common room.

One man said, “any idea when the mayor wakes up? I haven't the time to wait for his fat arse to get his beauty sleep. He owes me money for that last job."

Kayl tapped Irven's side twice just as he started climbing the stairs, and he stopped.

A gruff woman chuckled and replied, “he was probably up late again, making sure no imaginary assassins were lurking where I doubt even rats can enter."

“You laugh, but you haven't been to Bralran. Let me give you a word of advice if you ever go to that Saints forsaken backwater; keep your possessions close and your gold at home. The ratfolk there are all criminals, and I'd bet my pay more than a few get into assassination." The voice faded as they moved away. “Those pompous Bralranian bastards deserve those rodent scum. I doubt-"

Kayl tapped Irven to to continue, and after a short walk upstairs, Irven entered the room which would be their base of operations, or the scene of their final days.

All that mattered was the mission. For Clan Star-Sail.

* * *