Months went by in Bereth without word from Merdon. Cath hoped the Eye of Ethral that had stopped into the guild hadn't caught up with him, but there had been no more information there either. No news of the captured slaver slayer, the nation still waited with bated breath to hear he had been caught. The citizens of Bereth were torn about it. Their position far from the capital, despite their proximity to other nations, left their opinions of kobolds in a gray area. The guild's receptionist had her own feelings on the matter and only prayed Merdon was able to get away safely. If the Eyes caught him, there would be nowhere safe for him to run.

The receptionist stood with a sigh, tucking her paperwork away and hobbling on her wooden foot to the door. She locked the front door and made her way upstairs to put out all the candles and lanterns in the guild before leaving. That was her last duty for the night and she hated it thanks to how difficult climbing stairs were with her leg. Once she was upstairs it was just a very mundane task which left her with the sheer excitement of climbing back down the stairs and hoping she didn't fall down them. Each room had a candle, most of them out, save the ones facing the street, just to make the place seem lively. As she opened the last door in the hallway, she froze. The room was dark.

A candle could have burned out on its own, yes, but Cath wasn't an idiot. Recovering, she grumbled and reached down to her wooden leg, muttering about it being loose and not sitting properly. The dagger she kept concealed there was her only weapon, and it sadly wasn't enough. Not against this opponent.

The door behind her opened and Cath instinctively dropped to the ground and rolled. She managed to avoid a pair of throwing knives in the back, but the blood drained from her face when she looked up and saw him. A man in black, your usual assassin, but on his belt was a medallion bearing the mark of the Eyes of Ethral. He was no ordinary assassin; he was a government hired one. An assassin that could chase her down in the streets and get away with it. Cath swallowed and pulled out her dagger, ready to do as much as she could. Under his mask, the assassin grinned and lunged forward.

Cath blocked his dagger, which was much longer than hers, and managed to gain leverage enough to throw him over her. She rolled onto her back, grabbing him and tossing as she rolled. Her opponent landed on his feet and threw another throwing knife, nicking her shoulder. Undeterred, Cath shouted and tried to press her advantage, grabbing whatever she could and trying to stab him. The assassin was stronger, and slammed her into the wall, knocking the wind out of her and causing the dagger to fall from her hand. With a scoff, the killer turned, smashed his forehead against her face, and then pushed hard. There was a tearing noise as a piece of his tunic tore while Cath fell backward down the stairs.

The last thing she saw was a pair of cold eyes looking down on her as she bounced off the middle of the stairs, and then landed on the top of her head. Her killer was no novice. He retrieved his thrown weapons, doing his best to leave no trace, and then walked down to Cath. A concussion was most likely, but he wasn't there to injure her. It took no more than a swift jerk to break the woman's neck, and with the stairs and how she fell already in place, it was the perfect accident. Everyone knew about her foot, even the assassin. She slipped on stairs all the time due to it, and it just so happened she landed poorly this time.

“The Eyes see all,” the assassin whispered to her corpse before standing up to leave. His dark work was complete for this night.

Across the land, near the top of a white tower, Merdon sat in some comfortable clothes flipping through a proposal by Verist, the witch of the tower. She had drafted several very complicated and difficult plans to outright conquer Avant. They ranged from direct assaults on the capital itself to brainwashing the populace into doing it for them, all the way to gathering more magical kobolds to summon a rock from beyond the stars to fall onto the capital. Every one of them was patently absurd but equally dramatic. Merdon sighed and shook his head, pushing the paper away from himself and staring at the ceiling. She was just one floor above him, possibly even watching through her crystal ball right now. Some habits died hard, even after months of being told not to spy on those that lived in the tower. Not that Merdon was entirely keen on being counted among those who lived there. It was just a good hiding place, a solid base of operations while they all planned.

Sarel was out of the tower at the moment scouting around Avant. Merdon often thought about her going out all alone, but she had assured him she was safer without him for the moment. The nationwide manhunt for the slaver slayer was still in full force and only stymied for the time by the approaching winter. Several knights had come to investigate the tower and been turned away by the witch's forest only to return with mages to try and break the spell. Failing that, they had to turn back once more, and now it seemed they wouldn't be traveling until the next spring. At least, that's what Sarel had reported after following them. Her natural abilities were amplified by a cloak given to her by Verist which disguised her as a halfling as long as the hood was up. Few would bother investigating a lone halfling thief, as long as they weren't wanted.

The kobold thief had insisted on checking out Bereth before returning, and her last communication with Verist was weeks ago. Merdon expected her back at any time, but he was always anxious when she left. There had been a promise this time, however, that she needn't leave alone again. When they left the tower next, it would be together, as a group, to enact some kind of plan. Still, Merdon didn't do well resting on his laurels in times of crisis. While there was no immediate danger, the looming threat of Avant's government and Sarel being abroad was enough to set Merdon's teeth on edge. He could, at least somewhat, relax when she was safe.

Red and Skyeyes, along with the other few kobolds who had stayed at the tower, had given Merdon a wide berth with his emotions. Skyeyes was trying to convert the remaining four kobolds to his version of the goddess Ethral. Aside from Thickhide, three others stayed. Two of them had taken a liking to cooking and made all of the meals, while the last one simply had nowhere else to go and was content cleaning the tower for a free room and board. The white kobold's preaching bothered them, but they didn't let it show too much. A few things they didn't mind hearing, but Skyeyes was a priest without a following. His days would be otherwise spent meditating and keeping his faith, which was no longer an issue after so many months.

Red, on the other hand, was working with Verist. As much as it bothered her to be learning magic from the witch that stole her memories, she had no other choice. No one else was as magically capable as her, as knowledgeable, or as eager to teach. If they could have found her another teacher, the chances were good they wouldn't be interested in teaching a kobold of all things. Verist was her only option. Despite that, or perhaps because of it, Red was progressing quickly. Every day she learned new spells, her power grew and became more impressive. She had even come in one day and presented Merdon with his sword, fully restored thanks to her magic, as good as the day it was forged. Although he had nothing to use it for at the time, he appreciated the gesture.

Something had come up that gave him a reason to use it after a while though. Thickhide started to imitate the knight. Subtly at first, but over time more overtly until Merdon simply had to ask what the deal was. In his own shy way, the green kobold asked if Merdon could teach him to be a knight. It took the human by surprise to be sure, but with Sarel away from the tower and Merdon doing nothing else but reading he was getting out of shape. If nothing else, it gave him something to do and a reason to keep primed. The pair could be found working out and practicing sword techniques on any open floor almost every day of the week. Through it all, the green kobold had started to refer to the knight as Sir Merdon, which made the man feel awkward, but there was no stopping it. Even after he told the kobold how titles worked he persisted in the name. Over time, Merdon simply got used to it, surrendering to his fate.

On that day, sitting at the table with Verist's proposal pushed to the side, months of sitting, training, planning, waiting, there was a knock on Merdon's door. He glanced over and called out, “Come on in.” Thickhide was the one at the door, and he bowed slightly at the human.

“Sir Merdon,” he said softly. “I've come to tell you, lady Quickclaw has returned.”

Merdon straightened up, his eyes wide. “Finally,” he said, getting up and leaving the room, pushing past the green kobold. He figured the thief would be coming up the stairs and they would meet somewhere in the middle, but his guess was slightly off as the moment he walked out of the room a blue and white blur jumped onto him and giggled. The knight wasted no time hugging Sarel tightly. Thickhide bit his lip and quietly walked away, his job complete.

“It's about time,” Merdon said playfully. “Feels like you've been gone for a year.”

Sarel let go and rolled her eyes, dropping to the floor. “Only a couple of months, verakt. Sarel has learned many things.”

The large man nodded to acknowledge that. “We haven't made a lot of progress here. Red's getting better at magic, Thickhide is working out...” He slowed to a pause after seeing Sarel's serious face. “What's wrong?”

She sighed and closed her eyes for a moment. “Sarel was wondering how to tell you,” she started slowly. “Cath is dead.” Merdon went cold all over. “This was all Sarel could find,” the kobold added, handing Merdon a piece of black cloth.

“How did you find this?” he asked, examining it.

“Quickclaw saw a shadow leave the guild, but it did not turn off the lamp, so it was not Cath. I entered and saw her on the floor. It looked very much like an accident, verakt. This was a knowledgeable assassin.” Her voice was steady despite the news, and her reasoning left no doubt for Merdon.

“She must have gotten killed because of us,” he guessed. Merdon took a deep breath and settled his rage; it would be useful later. “We need to make a plan, now. Avant can't continue like this.”

Sarel nodded. “Our new companion may have ideas,” she suggested, the tense way she said companion telling Merdon exactly who she meant.

The knight sighed and nodded. “Let's go speak with her. Hopefully, she'll have a clue as to what this is, and a real plan of action this time.” Merdon would help her with that second one. He was starting to get ideas of his own about what he'd like to do.