Pipe smoke was abundant in the common room, several dwarves and raxen alike smoked pipes and drank. A raxen waitress carried empty plates and tankards as Gunnolf slid by her to find a seat at an open table, his companions gradually joined him and he placed an order to one of the serving women who scurried by.

  Knights clad in armor bearing the crest of Illisea were three tables away from where Gunnolf and his party took their seats.

  Chester sat at the table with his men, taking a seat next to Tohmath. The old gentleman scooted over for him to sit. “Is all well, boy?”

  Chester kept his voice low, “I remember two of those individuals over there from Saha’dryr a few days ago before we met with the Governor. The tall kobold there is called Gunnolf as I heard in the front room. Why is that name familiar?”

  Tohmath gave a start, his eyes widened as he tried to inconspicuously study the black furred man. He had to remember to keep his jaw closed and not be caught staring. “By the Gods, Chester. You sure that’s him?”

  “What do you mean, Tohmath?” as Chester leaned in to remove his helmet.

  Tohmath took his gaze from the kobold and leaned inward. “He fits the description plenty. If that is indeed, Gunnolf Fulin, he is a wanted and dangerous man in Illisea…”

  “What was that back there about?” Lylen asked her tall, dark companion who was casually taking in the bustling room.

  Gunnolf stared at Chester through those thick bangs, “It was nothing,” he muttered. Silence took over for a moment as she looked up to the kobold next to her.

  “‘Flow with the waves of time instead of clinging to the ancient stones for you will be in a new place. That is a nice philosophical phrase, wouldn’t you agree Lylen?” Olin asked to break the awkward silence as he procured some parchment and a quill with a small ink bottle from his pack.

  Lylen fixed her gaze on the monk, “Yes,” she said slowly carefully watching Gunnolf stare toward the knights across from them. A small cup arrived by one of the serving ladies and Gunnolf was quick to take a sip. At last, the knight they had seen at the inn’s entry room stood without his helmet, he had short, bright red hair, he was in his mid to late twenties at the oldest and clean shaven. Gunnolf gave a short jerk as he saw an image in his mind’s eye.

  He looks like…

  The image of a very similar man holding an iron sword over his master was in his head before he gave a swift and intentional Crescent Moon Slash up the man’s backside.

  His attention was drawn back to the present as the young man placed a gauntleted fist on their table along with an older gentleman at his side. “You are indeed Gunnolf Fulin?”

  Gunnolf sipped on his cup of ale, placed the cup back down and hid both hands within his kamishimo in silence.

  “Will you answer our questions?” the older gentleman asked.

  Gunnolf bowed his head and finally broke his silence, “Who I am has nothing to do with your search. You are seeking the safe recovery of the Shining Jewel of Listagan, correct?”

  Chester was taken aback along with Tohmath. “What do you know of her disappearance?” Chester inquired, a hand gripping the hilt of his blade and eyes narrowed.

  Gunnolf raised his head his eyes still hidden by the head fur, “Word spreads quite quickly by loose tongues of the citizens. My sincerest hopes she is recovered safely.”

  “We are watching you,” the older gentleman said.

  “Come Tohmath. There is no need to cause a scene here. Too many innocents would get mixed up in it,” Chester said as they both returned to their other fellow knights.

  Seeing the knight leave them be, Lylen leaned in toward Gunnolf, “What did you do to make them take so interested in you?” she asked in a low voice.

  Gunnolf turned his head to meet her eyes only silence from him; the waitress approached, “What will you be having this evening aside from the bit of mead?” her voice was high pitched indicating she was young for one of the rat-folk.

  “What is the house special?” Atzler asked eagerly.

  “Gornthog skewers with glazed apples, mandarins, with some chopped grassland python,” the waitress answered.

  “Gornthogs huh, those frog-like monsters,” Olin chimed in as the waitress nodded. “Sounds good.” Dusaak lifted his head from laying at Olin’s feet. “Yes, of course you can have some too,” he said to the jormagand, the creature gave a slight growl as it laid its head back down.

  Gunnolf ordered some gonroc for himself and away the waitress went. “I’d still like an answer,” Lylen pushed.

  “It happened during the war,” Gunnolf replied. “Seeing the deaths of many, you eventually become numb to which side you’re on. As long as you destroy your target, nothing else matters.” His words fell away as she thought about them.

  “I sure hope the food of Parcielle lives up to its hype,” Atzler said with anticipation.

  When the food and drinks arrived, they dug in and found the meal filling and the food had a bit of chewiness to it, but each bite was a morsel of savory peppers and garlic seared in olive oil with a slight char to both the gornthog and snake meat. Gunnolf’s plate was served to him with a small paper stuck to the bottom of it. Carefully removing it while everyone else was starting to dig into their meals, Gunnolf swiftly pulled the paper to his lap and examined it. Then he gave a nod as it disappeared up his sleeve.

  Gunnolf finished his second tankard of the dwarven ale known as gonroc, still seeing the Illisean Knights sitting a few tables away he stood and began leaving the common room.

  “Aren’t you going to finish your plate Gunnolf?” Atzler asked eyeing his food. “You still have half a skewer left.”

  “Eat it if you want,” the kobold replied.

  Olin studied the Knights, and his eyes went to Gunnolf’s back as he strode away. He’s trying hard not to stumble about. Two full tankards of gonroc with so little food is enough to throw most dwarves on their asses well into the next night. I wonder if the curse on Kazesuki-zhuken holds some responsibility.

  When the others finished, they retired to their rooms. The rooms were perfectly square and simple with wooden planked walls and hand crafted area rugs on the floor with a wall sconce near the door and a nearly new candle on an end table near one of the three beds. Each room had a rectangular window that overlooked different streets.

  Gunnolf sat on the bed closest to the window in the room to the left of the stairs, he had his tachi leaning in the corner when Olin entered with Dusaak. The kobold didn’t react upon the human entering with his pet.

  “Lost in the sea of thoughts and ponders?” Olin asked.

  “The elves are staying in the other room?” Gunnolf responded trying to avoid the question.

  Olin gave a nod. “A heavy burden you carry my friend. The Kazesuki-zhuken is cursed and you know more about it than you let out.”

  Gunnolf huffed, “If you know so much about my blade, why don’t you tell everyone and get it over with? As I said before, Monk, you know too much.”

  Olin sat on the bed closest to door and Dusaak found a corner to curl up in. “It’s not my issue to confront. But that Knight seems very interested in bringing you to whatever justice he thinks you deserve.”

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  Gunnolf was silent as he peered out the window. “A twenty year grudge is a long time. That Knight had to be a mere boy to what transpired back then.”

  Olin smiled, “My word, are you going to tell me your tale?” Gunnolf lied down with his back to the monk and said nothing more. Olin let out a sigh, “I thought not.”

  Inside their room, Lylen and Atzler sat awake on their beds. Atzler was lying down with his arms crossed behind his head and Lylen was sitting up sharpening one of her throwing daggers.

  “Is there something eating at you?” Atzler asked.

  “Gunnolf is such a mystery,” she muttered.

  “Yeah, he is,” Atzler agreed. “I thought it didn’t bother you though,” he said.

  “It didn’t, but now as I hear more things. I can’t help myself but wonder if he could end my curse.”

  “Your curse with magic hurting you with each cast?” Atzler broke in and she gave a nod. “I doubt he’d care if he knew the extent of it. He’s a pretty cold guy through and through I think.”

  “You heard Olin when he spoke of Gunnolf’s sword,” she quipped back. “It was a sacred blade to destroy the undead and considering a necromancer placed this curse on me…and Gunnolf may have a cold exterior, he suffers within though.”

  Atzler stared at her for a moment, then smiled. “It would be nice to have that curse purged from you. No healer has been able to break it so far and with Gunnolf’s sword cursed as well, who knows?”

  A shriek was heard from outside their window in the street. The both of them shot up from their beds and rushed over to see a dwarf woman was cornered in an alleyway by three figures in black cloaks.”

  “What the hell?!” Lylen yelled. Atzler opened the window and jumped out onto the rooftop.

  Lylen followed as Atzler called out, “Get away from her!” Darting across the roof, the pair leaped down to the stoney ground to confront the figures as two of them closed in to begin mauling the woman. One turned around and the eyes were ghost white, soulless, and rotted flesh covered their face.

  Lylen and Atzler both stopped cold seeing the person. They groaned as the hobbled toward the two elves. “A zombie?!” Atzler exclaimed with a shake in his voice.

  Lylen sent two of her throwing daggers at it, they pierced its chest, but it wasn’t fazed. It stepped toward them as Atzler flicked his axe to send it spinning horizontally toward the undead being’s face. Before it got two steps the axe embedded itself it the zombie’s throat as it fell on its back.

  The shrieks from the dwarf woman stopped as the other two continued their bloody massacre of her body. The one on its back thrashed.

  “What the hell are undead doing in Parcielle?!” Atzler cried out.

  “O flame, gather to my hands and burn the wretched and foul before me. I conjure your favor to spark and ignite, Inferno!” a circle of flame surrounded the injured zombie as Lylen finished her spell of it and it engulfed the creature leaving a charred yet still corpse behind. Lylen winced in immense pain upon finishing the spell, a throbbing pain shot up her upper arms, but the first zombie would trouble them no more. The other two began rising as they faced the two elves, blood pouring down both their fronts. Both groaned mindlessly as they stepped toward their opponents.

  Atzler dashed for his axe, it was searing hot to the touch, but he made sure to grip it tightly as he backed up to gain distance from these foes. The zombie toward their right advanced toward them but before either could react, a blast of white energy struck it and disintegrated it. Behind the pair of elves, they saw Olin there with his hands cupped outward from him.

  “I can’t let you two have all the fun,” the human said as he began pulling his hands back for another blast.

  “You need to teach us that sometime,” Atzler said as he flung his axe vertically at the last zombie. It split its head in the middle, but it persisted.

  “Mastering the ways of chi isn’t something just anyone can do,” Olin called back as his hands moved forward smooth but swiftly releasing more of that white beam of energy that finished the zombie off.

  The Illisean Knight from inside the inn and his four knights appeared from around the corner, his helmet was on his head once more and his sword was ready to be pulled from its sheath, “What happened?!” he called out. The other knights had their swords drawn as more footsteps were heard coming from down the street.

  Olin gave a bow to the knights, “We just got here ourselves but as you can see, undead managed to get within Parcielle’s walls. We dealt with them but unfortunately were not quick enough to have saved the victim.” He gestured to the bloody mess on the ground.

  Chester examined the corpses along with one of his men. “What under the Dragon Gods are the undead doing in this town?”

  “I wish I knew,” replied Olin. “I think the town guards will be here momentarily.”

  Chester nodded, “Likely, may I ask your identities since we didn’t get a chance to inside at dinner? I will introduce myself first though, I am Chester Atellis, a knight in service to Illisea Kingdom and bodyguard to her Highness, Princess Eril Marriph Issea of Listagan.” Everyone gave their brief introductions while Olin kept his introduction brief as a monk of the Sun Temple. “I see you are not with the kobold,” Chester continued. “Beware of that man. He is wanted in Illisea for treason.”

  “What did he do exactly?” Lylen asked.

  “A warrant for countless murders,” Chester said flatly.

  Her and Atzler were left with wide eyes and jaws open while Olin had his hand on his chin as if he was pondering something but listened intently.

  Chester continued, “Gunnolf Fulin is the Manslayer of Osinara. He escaped the village after it was massacred and burned, the coward left the war before we could either kill or capture him.”

  “How do you know all this about him?” Olin inquired.

  The older gentleman gave a bow, “I am Tohmath Dargin. I was once a humble militiaman of Osinara village, and I witnessed that kobold kill many men on both sides that terrible day. Four Illisean Captains, twelve fully armed soldiers fell at his clutches as well as Osinara soldiers too including a civilian, Sir Chester’s fa─.”

  “That’s enough Tohmath,” Chester cut him off. Chester fixed his attention on the elves, monk and jormagand. “There’s not a single officer within the Illisean military that doesn’t know of the Manslayer of Osinara. Illisea Kingdom was kind enough to offer refugees of Osinara a pathway to citizenship after the war ended.” Chester said plainly.

  “Why can’t you take him into custody now if he so wanted and dangerous?” Atzler asked.

  “This is the Low Lands, we cannot simply make an arrest on the spot due to the lack of men I have with me as well as the laws of this land must be respected. Besides, locating her Highness and securing her safety comes first.”

  “I see,” added Olin. “If this were in the realm of Illisea, however…”

  “He’d be dead already due to his war crimes and treason,” Chester said with an icy tone.

  The thought made Lylen shiver. He’s a mad murderer. It explains his skills with blades at least.

  Chester gave a bow, “Thank you for your aid this night, we will handle explaining everything to the town guards. Please, continue your respite at the inn.”

  Olin nodded agreeably, “Come Lylen, Atzler, let us do as the good knight suggests.” He urged them to follow him as they returned to the inn. Dusaak followed last paying the humans from Illisea no further mind.

  Returning to their room, Lylen and Atzler settled into their beds not even than two minutes when a knock came to the door. “Who could that be now?” Atzler grumbled as he cracked it open. It was Olin standing there, “What’s up?”

  “Gunnolf is gone,” he said dryly as worry struck his brow.

  ***

  Standing in an alleyway four streets from the inn, the night sky was full of clouds, stars and moons were obscured. It could rain any second. Holding himself upright despite the alcohol coursing through his system still, he felt the crisp and chilling breeze ruffle his kamishimo. He carried a handmade torch with him as he strode down a narrow alley that led under a bridge. A tunnel to his left, he recalled the message he received in the inn,

  I am in the town this evening, but we will still meet at the Mine tomorrow. If you wish, I am four streets west of the inn, under a bridge and through a tunnel. Come alone if you do.

  -Z

  Drunken homeless folk tossed and turned on the ground in what rags they were using as blankets. The tunnel was long as it went deeper, it finally opened to a wide room and there in the center a familiar figure sat there.

  Lifting his head, the brown feathered owl man’s gaze met Gunnolf’s stare. “I was not sure if I could expect you this night,” said Zarmhel. “How silly of me to cast doubt.”

  “Per your request, I thought I would see you alone anyway,” Gunnolf replied.

  “Quite,” Zarmhel said dryly.

  “The elves are at the inn,” Gunnolf replied. “I want to know though Zarmhel, why did you leave Saha’dryr?”

  Zarmhel chuckled, “You are a skilled mercenary Gunnolf, but you’re asking questions again? I thought you only cared about the payments, not the reasons you aren’t meant to know.” The pair stared at one another carefully as Gunnolf didn’t reply. “Was that artifact delivered as per my other request?”

  Gunnolf nodded.

  “Have you the items you exchanged for that scroll at Basgere Cave?”

  Gunnolf tossed the small bag with the two stone triangles in it to the owl-man who caught it easily. Zarmhel pulled the contents out of the sack, there were two of them and they appeared to be orange colored stones in the shape of triangles. Zarmhel examined them closely and Gunnolf finally asked, “Can you at least say why you fled Saha’dryr?”

  “A hit was put out on my life.” The owl man said absently as he examined each piece, “It’s to be expected when you work in the shadows under Gustav for the sake of Saha’dryr and the Low Land Unification to maintain our independence of Illisea.”

  “It looks as though we are headed for another war Zarmhel,” Gunnolf said flatly. “I assume you’ve heard about their missing Princess.”

  “I have indeed. I must admit though, for being intoxicated as yourself, you’re surprisingly well composed.” Zarmhel replied. “I assume this means you will fulfill this task and meet me in the mine tomorrow with the elves in tow, yes?”

  Gunnolf was silent as Zarmhel’s keen eyes watched him, the two were fifteen paces apart if either of them could guess as Zarmhel opened his arms wide.

  “We are at the doorstep of another war but this time it will be Illisea Kingdom on the defensive. That does not matter though. Not at this time. I need you to complete your current assignment by bringing Lylen and Atzler to me deep within Axo Mine,” Zarmhel demanded.

  “Why?” Gunnolf asked.

  “The undead stir down there, something you’ve been wanting to obliterate for some time, Gunnolf.” Zarmhel said plainly. “I will aid where I can of course, but this task is most important to fulfill on behalf of Saha’dryr and for Governor Gustav.”

  “The undead you say,” Gunnolf said ponderingly.

  “Indeed, now go, Gunnolf and do not disappoint!” Zarmhel began striding away into the dark of night.