The harbour bustled with activity as the Heartland was towed to its spot by the pilot. It bumped lightly against the stone docks and deck hands jumped from the ship with coils of rope, tying them tightly to the bollards that protruded along the edge. In no time the ship was secured and the gangplank was lowered.

A wooden crane was moved into position over the cargo hold and a haul rope lowered. The labourers at the harbour liked to work fast. The quicker they unloaded all the cargo from the ships, the quicker they could leave for the tavern.

Captain Morgan looked out over the harbour. Other ships were also being unloaded, as well as a few being loaded, in preparation for sailing at first light. He looked out to where two great stone walls formed a protective barrier against invaders, with the arms overlapping slightly. It was why a pilot boat was needed to get in, only the most fool hardy captains tried to sail into the harbour. Many of their ships had been scavenged bare as they became wrecks at the base of the walls.

The walls rose high, taller than any ships mast that Morgan had ever seen. And all along stood watch towers, which had great fires at night to warn incoming ships of danger. Like little lighthouses.

The harbour of Noirmonte was the most protected harbour he had ever seen. This is why it was always bustling with activity. It was the safest harbour to dock at all along the coast of Tuerleroi. Soon the Governor of Tuerleroi had declared Noirmonte as his capital. The city had grown at an amazing rate then. With many trading companies unloading their cargo here, before transporting it by land to the various surrounding nations.

He turned to watch the last of the cargo being lifted ashore. He hadn’t been carrying much, for which he was glad, but what he had been carrying was expensive. Silks and spices, and even coffee beans, ordered from his homeland specifically by his benefactor. They were difficult to come by in Tuerleroi, so had to be shipped in. But what Morgan had brought wasn’t the usual trade between the nations. These pieces were very exotic. This being the reason he had brought some guards along, in case pirates had attacked for the cargo.

He heard a gasp from below, followed by a lot of muttering that was just out of earshot. He looked down to see the soldiers had disembarked, carrying the carcass as he had ordered. They had dropped it onto the dock once they had gotten off the gang plank, so they could gain their land legs before trying to move it further. There was a crowd of onlookers surrounding it now, some climbing over others to see what the commotion was about.

“See that my belongings are brought ashore Nevin,” he called to his first mate, throwing him the cabin key.

He rushed down onto the main deck and then the gang plank. The soldiers had surrounded the carcass and were keeping the dock labourers at bay, but it couldn’t last long. He rushed on to the dock and called for two of the soldiers to pick it up and follow him.

With the rest of the soldiers pushing curious onlookers out of the way, Morgan made his way to the carriage that was waiting for them. One was always provided for the captain of any ship docking here. It was all the king could do to make them feel welcome a few years back, after he had raised the taxes yet again. It was a nice touch though.

“Throw it on top,” he called to the two soldiers as he climbed into the carriage, “and make sure it won’t fall off.”

“Oh no you don’t!” the driver waggled his finger at the soldiers as they went to dump the carcass. “I won’t have that staining my carriage! You can bring it up in a wagon!”

“We don’t have time for this old man,” Morgan called, “I’ll give you a gold piece extra to carry it up now. Or we’ll have a mob on our tails.”

The driver seemed to suck on his teeth for a second before nodding. He was paid by the king, but any time he could get an extra gold piece was worth it. “Fine,” he said to Morgan in an exasperated tone, “where to then?”

“Take me to the manor of Lord Vincent de Frauglin. And we need to get their fast.”

The driver whipped the two horses at the front of the carriage and it shot forward. A paw fell from the beast strapped above and dangled in front of his window. Morgan shuddered. Even in death the beast seemed to create a fear inside him as nothing else had. He hadn’t had a good look at it though during the voyage, instead it had been locked away from prying eyes. He needed his crew focused on sailing.

Lord de Frauglin was bound to be disappointed at the time it took. They were well over a week overdue. But he hoped the presence of the beasts’ carcass would be enough to take his mind off how long it took to sail. Some of the Lord he had worked for even had fetishes for such skins, having various creatures stuffed and mounted.

The carriage rushed through the streets. The driver tried to avoid the larger roads, but once they were out of the Wharftown and making their way in to the heart of Noirmonte it would be impossible to dodge. And at this time of day, with the sun just making its way directly overhead, the streets were bound to be lined with hawkers and merchants, vying to sell their wares. Morgan just hoped they wouldn’t be delayed too long on their way to the manor.

* * *

“He who violates the will of the Gods will have holy retribution brought down upon them! But it is not as easy as it sounds to fulfil the will of the Gods, as each God has their own set of commands. Some of these Gods even contradict each other. So one way, or another, retribution will be brought against you!”

Tristram paused for breath and glanced down at those around him. Being only of medium height he had tipped a crate on its end to stand on, so that he was higher than the huddled masses around him. His voice carried further this way, and he needed to reach as many people with his words as he could.

He held the book he was carrying above his head. It was heavy, and he had to lock his arms in place to hold it there for the short time he needed. It was wider than his head and twice as long, with soft parchment bound in leather and clasped with brass. It didn’t stand out overly much, looking like most of the other books people along the street were holding above their heads.

“I have in my hands here, commands that even you can follow! Yes you!” He let the book drop to the ground and held one arm out, pointing at someone who was listening to him talk.

“Volg has room in his heart for everyone. He is a kind God that looks after his followers. He protects the weak from harm, and heals the wounded. He feeds the hungry and brings water to the thirsty. He is more than you could ever ask for. And he offers one thing that the other Gods forget about. He offers you his protection from the wrath of the other Gods. So in following Volg not only will you receive his blessings, but you will also be saved from the retribution of the other Gods. And that is more than any of us can ask for.”

He was losing the crowd. Many of them had turned away to listen to the other priests in the street. They all chose the well travelled streets in these poorer areas to preach to their new flock. Sometimes they decided to follow your God, but mostly the masses just went about your daily business. The people didn’t bother talking to the priests; the priests wouldn’t have time to answer them.

A commotion started further down the street and people started looking down towards it. Slowly they started to part, pushing their way to the fronts of the buildings that crowded in on either side of the street. Tristram felt someone bump into him, and then another person knocked him hard enough that he fell from the crate. He landed on his feet though, taking another step backwards just to hold his balance. The crate had fallen onto its base again, but standing on it now would still give him a height advantage. And at least now it was sturdier.

He climbed atop, as did two other people. They crowded around him, rubbing their dirty bodies against his clean robes. One of the people even rested their hand on his shoulder to keep their balance. It was quite embarrassing for a priest to be put through this kind of treatment. Whatever was coming down the street must have been important. The people didn’t move this fast when the King came down the street, and he certainly wouldn’t be joy riding around in this area, at this time of the day.

He could see a carriage making its way down the street now. He shielded his eyes from the sun with a flat hand extending from his brow. The crowds mumbling and muttering turned in to a quiet hush as the carriage moved closer. And gasps, sighs and even a few screams were coming from down the street. He glanced in the other direction, word was already spreading and the path was already open.

The carriage seemed to speed up now the driver realised that the crowd was going to let him through. Tristram looked at the carriage with great interest now, as up and down the street the crowd had pushed itself hard against the buildings, with even a metre or two between themselves and the carriage.

As it got closer he noticed what had caused all the interest. It wasn’t what was inside the carriage, but what was strapped to the top of the carriage. A great hairy creature had been strapped there. By the way the arm was dangling it was most likely dead. But it was such a strange creature, so large.

The head of it was visible, its great teeth showing clearly in the sun light. They looked like they could pierce iron armour, and the jaw could crush a man’s skull. He raised his other hand to his mouth as he opened it in shock. It wasn’t good for a priest to show shock.

Inside the carriage he could see the passenger urging the driver onwards. Tristram didn’t recognize the passenger, but he hadn’t expected to. What was strange though was that the beast on top of the carriage looked familiar to him, as if he had seen it before. He went to step off the crate when realization struck him.

He stumbled a step forward as his mind wandered and collided with a lady watching the carriage. She didn’t seem to notice though; too transfixed was she on the creature. He excused himself politely and started pushing his way the crowd in a different direction to the carriage. It seemed to be heading up into the main part of the city, where all the wealthy people stayed. But the temples were on the outskirts of town, and he would need to go their first and tell the other priests about what he had just witnessed.

As he walked he remembered where he had seen the creature before. At the back of the Temple of Volg a tapestry hung, depicting their mighty God as he usually was, hunting through the forests. But it was a very old tapestry, and in it stood two creatures, much like dogs. There was no mention of them in any of the new translations of the text. The High Priest would want to know though, and he needed to be first to tell him. It might be enough cause for him to be brought inside the Temple and off the streets.

He hurried through streets that were clear of people now, well away from where the carriage travelled. A slapping noise drew his attention to where one of his sandals had broken, and was hitting him in his heel. It gave him something else to think of beside the weight of the book he carried.

In next to no time he was at the doors of the Temple of Volg. They were large double doors, carved from a single oak tree. They seemed to have been brought alive by the carver, who had depicted various kinds of animals playing and relaxing on them. He raised his hand and tapped once on the door, loudly, before pushing it open to reveal the inside of the Temple.

Two rows of bench seats ran down the long hall to where the Altar rested. The Altar it self was a stone slab carved with intricate patterns all along its surface. Currently a white cloth trimmed with gold was draped across it, and a small wooden pedestal holding a copy of Volg’s reasoning’s, the book he now carried with him, rested atop the cloth.

Behind the Altar was the tapestry he was thinking of. The temple was empty right now, not even a priest was on the main floor, so he stepped behind the Altar to have a good look at it. Volg stood at the forefront of the image, stepping out of the trees, hunters bow in hand. But beside him were two animals, one of which looked exactly like the one on the carriage. His mouth dropped in wonder. He gave his head a shake and moved off to the side of the hall where stairs rose to the next level.

He ran one hand against the wall as he climbed up to the balcony above. The balcony ran along the entire inside of the hall on all four sides. Above the double doors of oak stood three great windows of glass. They faced west, so that as the sun fell below the horizon they would catch the last rays of hope on to the mass that gathered.

The other three sides all held doors. Most of them went into dormitory rooms. The southern side was taken up by the homeless that were allowed to stay for the night. They would be asked to leave in the morning, and by nightfall more than four times the number of beds they had would be waiting outside. It was a pity they could only let so many in. The others sought beds elsewhere then, but it was always the same at every Temple.

The northern side held the rooms of the low ranked priests like him. They were also dormitory rooms, with bunk beds and a chest in which to keep your belongings. He detested staying in such quarters, but it must be so in such a crowded city as this. He wished he had stayed in the country side. But he had been brought to the city for some reason, and he was sure Volg did have a reason for him to be here.

Along the eastern side were only three doors, all ornately carved. The northern most door held the Captain of Volg’s Huntsmen. The Huntsmen had some lodgings around the back of the Temple, but mostly they stayed in the cabins they had built in the forests outside the city. They seemed more at home out in the forest than they did with all the buildings around.

The southern most door was where Priest Francis resided. He watched over the other priests directly, setting them tasks to do, and making sure that the Temple ran in smooth order. He also acted as master of Ceremonies when the occasion called for it. Many of the priests viewed him as a tyrant, but even though his hand was firm, it was never unjust.

The middle door was the largest of them all. This was where he was headed now, and he moved to it. He just stood before it for a little while, admiring the artwork that adorned it. Then he raised his right hand and rapped against it a few times. From within came a soft voice, telling him to enter. So he opened the door.

The High priest was sitting in a chair by his fireplace. It wasn’t cold outside, but the High Priest had the fire on anyway, he needed to warm his old bones and ward off the illnesses that might take him did he get too cold. A frail hand waved from deep within the chair for him to come over.

Tristram edged forward bit by bit. The hand just kept on waving, so eventually he found himself face to face with the person who had reached almost the pinnacle of priest hood within the order of Volg. The only way to be higher than him was to becoming the living avatar of Volg, but that had not happened for millennia.

The frail old man looked him up and down. When he finally spoke his voice was soft, almost a whisper, and sounded very ragged.

“Why is it you have come to see me son?”

“Your Holiness, I… um… saw something today… sir.”

“Spit it out lad. I don not have forever to listen to you speak. Get to the point.”

“A carriage passed where I was preaching. The kind they give to the captains at the docks. And atop the carriage was a strange beast.”

“That is nothing unusual my son. Those sea captains always seem to come back with something new.”

“It is not new, sir. I thought I had seen it before. And it seemed I had looked at the answer all my time here. There is an image of the creature stitched in to the fabric of the tapestry below. I wasn’t sure, so I had a closer look. It definitely looks like the one in the tapestry.”

The High Priest started tapping his fingers on the side of his chair. His other hand reached up to cup his chin. “This is interesting news, and worrying. We must find out where the creature is now. From the docks? Send one of the other Priests down to see which ships sailed in and where their captains went.” The High Priest’s tone had changed, his voice seemed stronger.

“Right away sir.”

“And bring me Francis. I need to talk with him. And with you.” He pointed at Tristram as he was leaving. Tristram nodded, and then left on his errands.

* * *

The carriage sped down a wide paved street as it came to its final destination. The area around it was now much different from when it had started its trip. From the dank, grimy lanes around the docks it had travelled to the area inhabited by the lords and ladies of Tuerleroi. The streets in this area were much wider and no cobles were missing. Large walls rose up on either side of the street, painted in bright colours, or made of polished marble. Huge wrought iron gates stood marking the entrance to each house.

Morgan looked out the side of the carriage at the manors. The houses were hard to see, but every now and again he caught a glimpse through the gates. Wide paths rolling through grassed areas and surrounded by leafy trees. The manors themselves stood at the back, hidden behind the walls and trees. The lords and ladies enjoyed their privacy.

The carriage pulled up in front of a set of gates that were quickly opened. It started rumbling down a gravelled path as the gates closed behind them, with no sign of anyone operating them. The rich could afford such marvels. Elm trees lined either side of the driveway, their leaves littering the ground in shades from red to brown to yellow.

Morgan blinked at the fallen leaves. He had forgotten all about the weather here. It was the end of autumn, the leaves were falling from trees and the breeze was brisk. It was only slightly cold, and a threat of rain energised the air. It made him think back to the island they had happened upon.

The elm and pine trees that had made up much of what he saw were full of life. Their leaves looked bright and crisp, as one would expect during the middle of summer, but it should have been nearly half-way through autumn. In his mind it didn’t make sense how he could travel from summer to autumn in such a short time.

The carriage halted and his door was opened for him. He shook his head to clear his thoughts and stepped out on to the path. Standing around him were a number of servants, though they didn’t advance any closer than the foot of the stairs. They were staring at the carcass on the roof, hands shaking, jaws agape.

“Get this blasted thing off my roof,” the carriage driver threw a look at the servants, “NOW!”

They all took one step forwards and stopped. Morgan put a hand to his forehead and then rubbed it over his eyes. This was going to be difficult.

“Look, it’s not alive. I killed it me self.” His tone was low and calming. “We just need to get it inside, and then you can go bring your dinner up. Now gimme a hand ‘ere.”

He climbed up on to the edge of the carriage and started dragging the creature from it. Slowly a couple of servants came over and helped him. They carried it up the stairs as the carriage rumbled away. They entered the foyer of the manor. Two sets of stairs curved up and around a small fountain in the middle of the room, and led to the bedchambers and such. Doors led every which way from the bottom level of the foyer, to the kitchen, the music room, the dining room, and to their next destination, the library.

Morgan and the two servants struggled with the creature, not being used to carrying around the dead weight of an animal this large. One of its legs was dragging alone the polished marble floors, leaving small scruff marks, but not causing any permanent damage.

Another servant quickly rushed up and threw the door to the library open. Warm air rushed out into the cool foyer. They stepped inside, dumped the creature just inside the door and left. He doubted he would see them again; they were probably heading out to throw up their dinner, followed by telling all the female servants how brave they were carrying the dreadful beast.

He stepped over the corpse and strode to one of the chairs sitting before the fire place. He sat in the chair he usually did when he came here, and poured himself some warm tea from the pitcher that had been left there for him. The fire was raging well and he was glad for it. He took a few moments to glance around the library as he warmed his hands by the fire.

It hadn’t changed in all the years he had come here. A wall of books, covered in dust, lined the shelves on the wall to the left of the entrance. Across the room from the books was a large desk, littered with papers. It was where Lord de Frauglin did all his business, and the reason for conducting business in the library. The fireplace sat on the third wall, with the head of a tiger mounted above it. A fearsome beast, well known further inland, where the forest grew denser and warmer.

Lord de Frauglin liked collecting dangerous animals. Their skins or heads anyway. His study had been taken over as a trophy room, shifting the desk to here. He would definitely be interested in the creature he had found on the island. Something the Lord wouldn’t have in his collection.

“This is marvellous, so unique.”

Morgan wasn’t startled when the voice came from behind him. The Lord was as quiet as the wind, no more than a whisper of sound when he entered a room. He twisted in his chair slightly so he could look around at where they had dumped the creature’s body.

“I have never seen paws so large on a dog. But its body is shaped like that of a dog. If it is not related to our common tamed dogs, then I will be greatly surprised.”

Lord Vincent pulled back the lips of the creature and looked at its teeth. He ran a finger along the front ones, and tested tip of them.

“These could very nearly punch through a breastplate. This jaw looks like it could crush a man’s bones as well. It looks very fearsome, and seems to have the abilities to match. I think I will have my doctor look at it before I get it stuffed. I will be interested to find out how similar it is to the common hunting dog.”

Lord de Frauglin stood, brushing his hands together, and moved to his chair by the fireplace. He sat in it stiffly and leaned forwards. His head rested in his hands, which in turn rested on his knees.

“I am sure, my dear Morgan, you have an interesting tale about how you came to have such a wonderful corpse in your possession. And as to why you are over a week late.”

“Oh, I am sure I do, me Lord. But I thought we would first talk about some business. Your cargo has been delivered, and usually I would be heading off to find something to carry back home. But not this time. I wish to head back to where I found this creature. I know there are more of them. I am sure I can find them for you. All I need is someone to fund the… lets call it an expedition. Maybe buy another boat and hire a second crew.”

Lord de Frauglin was silent for some time after Morgan stopped talking. Then he started to wag a finger in Morgan’s direction with a strange glint in his eye. “You are making me think hard on this you know. It is a very intriguing proposition. I think… I think… I think you have a deal. But I have one condition to place on this, before I go opening my coffers to you. I want one of them alive.”

Lord de Frauglin held his hand out towards Morgan, who shook it.

“Good Sir, you have yourself a deal. I will start the search for a boat and crew tomorrow, and we will sail before the end of the week.”

* * *

A knock sounded on the large oak door.

“Come in.”

The door opened slowly, as if the person behind it was being overly cautious. They poked their head around, and it quickly dived back out of sight when the extremely large dog sitting by the Governors chair let out a low growl.

“Oh, come now Innic, there is no need for that.”

The Governor sat behind a desk littered with papers, the days tasks. He held a presence in the room though, as if this was the mightiest of thrones he was sitting in. His voice was soft and hard at the same time. The dog stopped growing, and the person behind the door poked his head around.

“M-m-message for you governor, sir.”

“Then bring it here boy,” the governor waved his hand for the boy to enter and come towards him.

Slowly he came around the door, and started tip toeing towards the desk, his eyes firmly on the large dog that was lounging on the floor. The dogs hackles were slightly raised, and the boy knew that even though it seemed to be relaxed, it was still keeping an eye on him. There were too many stories floating around the servants about what that dog had done to people who disturbed the governor. When it stood, the big black dog easily reached above his waist, and its jaws looked like it could biet through steel armour.

He reached his hand out slowly and dropped the small roll of parchment onto the desk, he thought he saw the dog twitch. He turned sharply and nearly leapt from the room, the door slamming behind him. The dog rolled onto its back and stretched.

“You enjoy terrorising the servants dont you Innic? You need to calmdown, or soon I wont have any servants left. Now, lets see about this message.”

He gently pushed some papers to one side, clearing a small spot on the desk and reached for the roll of parchment. He opened it and lay it flat on the wood of the desk. The spidery script was hard to read, not only for the fact the person didn't seem to be able to write well, but also because it was written in code. He eyed it over, trying to get the feel for the message.

“Arman has done well for himself it seems Innic. From what he says here some sailors have returned, with a fell beast to show for their delay,” Innic's ears seemed to prick up at this, “similar to a dog, but with teeth like blades. He says it looks a fearsome creature. He also mentions that the ships captain has organised to go back to where he found it, to see if there are more.”

The governor lounged back in his chair and steepled his fingers before his face. He rocked back and forth slightly. Innic stood and shook himself. His hackles were clearly raised now, and there seemed to be a glint of pure hatred in his eyes, hatred or fear. The governor looked at him quizzically, an eyebrow raised.

“Something bothering you?”

Words echoed through his mind.

Get Arman aboard that ship. I must know about the kin of Monok.

“I am sure that will be no problem Innic. They are sailing on the morrow. And Arman is the best, he will surely find out whats going on. Why do these trouble you so?”

That is of my concern and not yours. Just do as I say, or your world will come tumbling down around your head.