“You’re Dean Karl’s father?” Derek asked incredulously. While this man did look a few years older than Karl Windreach, he didn’t look old enough to be the Dean’s father.

The old man laughed, “Haha, of course I am. It’s not my fault the boy has aged so poorly. If he spent less time in the Academy and more time out on the sea like me he would look as hale and hearty as I do!”

Derek was confounded by this logic. It was clear that the older man had probably tiered up faster or had a prodigious body attribute that had made his aging slower than his son. The only way the man’s explanation worked in Derek’s mind was if Karl’s time in the Academy had slowed his progression and that the old man’s time at sea had done the opposite. That’s assuming the old man wasn’t just speaking ballyhoo.

Either way it was obvious by this man’s age and equipment that he was an important person within House Windreach. The man had already moved on and was congratulating and thanking the guards in the field hospital before moving on to inspect the next part of the cove. Captain Drake signalled for Derek to come along so the boy hurried to catch up.

The guards had already begun cleaning up. They had placed their fallen respectfully on one of the piers while the dead assassins and sailors were being laid out in lines on one of the beaches. Their survivors were chained in long strings and forced to sit in the sand near their dead compatriots. The surviving rogues were clearly dispirited and many had injuries that had yet to be healed.

Derek was surprised by the disparity in losses. There were easily almost three hundred dead or captured enemies, while their side had only lost seven men. His confusion must have been apparent as Captain Drake laughed next to him, “You are wondering how we were able to overpower so many enemies with so few losses of our own?”

Seeing Derek nod the man continued, “It’s pretty simple really. Their forces were spread around the cove here and in the tunnels. We were able to engage them on our terms by attacking the separate groups with our full force one after the other.”

This description reminded Derek of one of his lessons. He turned and asked, “So this is an example of the concept of defeat in detail?”

The Captain nodded before he swept his arms to encompass the whole cove, “Once we arrived in the cove, we split off a smaller force to clear the east side which only had the one pier and that warehouse over there. The rest turned west and swept around the cove. Conveniently, the cove’s shape limited the scope of the conflict and the aggressiveness with which we attacked kept our opponents off guard. It also helped that some of these people’s leadership fled on that vessel that got away. The lack of high tier opponents allowed our own to cause tremendous damage to the regular tier zero fighters. Your grandfather’s advanced tier helped with that. A tier seven let loose among low tier enemies is a disaster unless those lower tier folks are supported by higher tier allies.

“Finally, there’s the fact that you and the other healers were able to take care of our wounded and get them back into the fight so quickly. The Harbor Master wasn’t joking when he said that you are the reason so many of our men survived. Between your healing directly saving their lives and the guards that were able to rejoin the fight because of your efforts, you easily reduced our casualties by half or even two thirds.”

Derek understood what the man was saying and felt slightly embarrassed at the praise. He looked at the other guards around him and saw that many of the ones were faces he recognized, men that he had healed. They all looked at him with faces of gratitude and respect. A sense of pride welled up within him. This was what he wanted, to do great deeds and be honored for them.

He saluted the men before turning back to the captain, “Thank you for saying that. It was the first thing that came to mind. After that first fight in the tunnel, I realized that the guards were working together as a team and that because I didn’t know how to work with them my skills would be better used supporting them.”

Smiling, Drake agreed with him, “You were right to think that. No matter how skilled a person is in individual combat, it often takes time to learn to fight in a group. Teamwork is the difference between a normal warrior and a true soldier. It takes discipline and practice. Not to worry though, I am sure with your intelligence you would pick it up quickly.”

Their group came to a stop inside what looked to be the assassin’s headquarters. There the various squad leaders and their assistants were busy gathering information about the place. Entering the single room on the ground floor, Derek saw his grandfather sitting in a window and smoking from his pipe with his hammer leaned against the wall next to him.

When the old Harbor Master saw Derek’s grandfather the man let out a roar before barrelling over to the other man, “Ander Kennick! Haha, I haven’t seen you since Argon’s Springs, or was it Fort Hastur?”

Hearing the other man coming Ander turned before a smile appeared on his own face, “Warwick, you old pirate! What are you doing here? I could have sworn that you would have had your neck stretched by a rope somewhere by now.”

The two men embraced in a fierce hug and started pounding each other’s backs. The shockwaves coming from their blows were enough to cause some of the men around them to take steps backwards. Finally, the two broke their hug and Ander turned to Derek, “Derek, come here. I want you to meet an old friend of mine, this Is ‘Black Dog Warwick’. He’s a pirate that’s wanted in a dozen countries all up and down the coast…”

The other old man was quick to cut him off, “Privateer, not pirate! There’s a difference and since the war’s over, I am no longer wanted by those other countries.”

Ander continued as if he hadn’t even heard him, “We served together on at least twelve campaigns with the The Velvet Host.”

Derek looked strangely at the two men before speaking up, “The Velvet Host? That name hardly inspires fear or confidence.”

The two men who looked like they were about to get into an argument about the difference between privateers and pirates turned on the boy. The Harbor Master was the first to respond, “The Velvet Host was a prestigious company boy.”

Derek was looking at the man dubiously, “Eh, did you wear really fancy clothes? Did you scare your opponents off with how well dressed you all were?”

The men in the room started laughing but stopped quickly when Ander swatted the back of Derek’s head, “You no good child, of course we were well dressed. Part of securing lucrative contracts is looking damned good. Good looking mercenaries are disciplined mercenaries and disciplined mercenaries win battles. The Velvet Host was known for its discipline and it had to look the part. We made damned good money back then, and we looked damned good while doing it. Don’t question it boy, it’s one of the unspoken rules of mercenary life. Well dressed mercenaries are successful mercenaries.”

Derek rubbed his head while the two old men turned back to each other. Derek watched the various officers scurry about the room while he listened to his grandfather and his friend while they caught up. They definitely had a tale to tell.

It turned out that the two hadn’t seen each other in decades. Ander had left the mercenary company to refine his smithing skills while Warwick had returned to Windreach to take a formal position within his house. To hear them tell it, that was almost sixty years ago. Many of the battles they participated in and foes they fought had already been forgotten to history as well as many of their comrades.

Derek thought that was pretty sad. He wondered about all the people who had died in those conflicts and whether there was any meaning to their deaths at all, but to hear the two old men talk about it, those deaths had opened doors for others and had possessed meaning in those moments. It was only time that had robbed them of that meaning.

After a while more of the officers had entered the room as well as investigators and aids. These people waited patiently for the two men to finish their conversation. It seemed the Harbor Master had been waiting for one woman in particular to join them. This woman was similarly attired to the Harbor Master though the anchor on her breastplate was silver. Seeing this person, the harbormaster beckoned her forward, “Ander, this is my second in command and aide de camp, Estora Windreach. Estora, please begin your report.”

The woman nodded to her boss before turning to the table and arranging her notes. Finally she glanced at Derek and Ander before she spoke up, “Earlier today, two Disciples of the Forge God were attacked in the streets of Windreach by a group of assassins. The majority of those assassins were either slain or captured on the spot. The two Disciples worked with the city’s guard organizations to first trace the escaping assassins to their warehouse hideout and then assault the warehouse.

“Their quick thinking prevented any of the assassins from escaping that position and allowed our follow up attack through the tunnels into this cove to possess the element of surprise. Through the hard work of all of the participating guard units we were able to seize this cove and capture most of the smugglers and assassins that were here. Unfortunately, it appears that one vessel got away.”

She looked around to confirm that everyone in the room had followed her briefing up to this point before she continued, “Our casualties for this operation were light, only losing seven guardsmen. We will mourn these losses but are grateful that more of our own were not lost.

“In comparison, we were able to slay two hundred and thirty three of these criminals and capture an additional seventy eight. We have successfully seized four warehouses and two vessels full of goods and are currently cataloguing them. Furthermore, we have determined that the assassins were members of the Red Cabal and that the smugglers were an affiliated organization.

“With the success of this operation we can be certain that the Red Cabal has been crippled within Windreach City and will need to put significant resources into rebuilding before they can begin operations here again. Does anyone else have anything to add?”

The Harbor Master’s second in command scanned the room. The officers had nothing more to provide about the general situation, instead focusing on discussing specific tasks that still needed to be completed or inventories they were working on. As this conversation continued, Derek turned to his grandfather and the Harbor Master. “Grandfather, who are the Red Cabal?”

The old men turned to him, his grandfather thought for a moment before responding, “The Red Cabal are something of an enigma. They are known to have a network across the entire continent of Elanith. They commit every sort of crime from assassination to smuggling to robbery.

“They are generally not welcome even among the criminal underground as they have been known to strike against anyone they desire. Due to this, they often work through intermediaries like these smugglers we captured today. Unfortunately, they are very resilient and no sooner is one branch removed than another grows in its place. Also, their members are very zealous about their loyalty to the Cabal and they have been known to be willing to fight to the death for it. This is why the only Cabalists we were able to capture were the gravely injured ones.”

Derek thought for a moment before looking back at them, “Then do we need to be concerned about reprisals?”

Warwick laughed before responding, “Haha, boy you should always be worried about reprisals, but for now the Cabal has nothing to threaten you with. If they had stronger forces in the city, they would have sent them when they tried to assassinate you.”

He stood up and clapped, “Okay, you two, you don’t need to stay here any longer. I can have my men bring you back to the Academy if you’d like. When we have fully catalogued this mess I will have my men bring over your portion of the prize and bounties.”