It was a typical morning in Tenbi-waypoint. Clusters of unkempt men were unhurriedly gathering at the main exchange, a few rowdily greeting each other as they waited for the day’s work to begin. The women folk all across the settlement were also beginning their chores, kicking out unruly children from under their feet and urging them to be gone till lunch.

The children’s laughter and shouts could be heard throughout the settlement as they began their day’s adventures.

In the farmer’s field on the hill overlooking Tenbi-waypoint, the soothsayer who in these parts was known only by the name Sentor, was preparing for a busy day. It was to be his last here before he departed the following morning, and he knew from experience that there would be a scramble for his services from all those that had left it to the last minute. And, of course, from those who would almost inevitably, for the umpteenth time, want to consult with him to double check a few things.

He sighed and muttered sarcastically under his breath, "Han! Are you sure there is no sign that my fortunes will change soon? Han, don’t you see a certain rich blonde man in my future? Han, won’t a handsome prince passing by, fall in love with me and sweep me away to his castle?"

He had lost count, the number of times he had tried to explain that it wasn’t possible to read a person’s future. But alas, if anything this seemed to make it worse as if adding to the mystery by withholding certain information.

A soothsayer’s role was incredibly varied, particularly in these troubled times. However, first and foremost, as per tradition, they used their expansive knowledge and wisdom to advise the common folk. It was simple things, such as new farming techniques, easy medicinal remedies, dietary recommendations and the like. And in some cases, they even gave lessons and career advice to the children.

Nonetheless, wisdom is often confused with mystic abilities and though this suited many soothsayers down to the ground, it was not in this particular one’s nature to take advantage of the poor.

Their other equally important roles included, actually treating people for minor ailments, brewing and selling medicine and mediating on local issues. They would also collect rare medicines on their travels and were usually extremely generous with their prices, often willing to accept whatever the buyer could afford.

For most of the populace in the Heavenly Empire and beyond, even the most innocuous-seeming ailments or injuries could quickly escalate and lead to death. Experienced medicine men and women were monopolised by the nobles and the wealthy leaving little service to everyone else. That combined with poor general hygiene and living conditions resulted in the existing state of affairs. It was not surprising, therefore, that soothsayers were extremely popular and held in high regard.

"Han, Han," a frantic shout caused the soothsayer to look up from where he was sorting his medicine stock.

A young brown haired girl came bursting into the field. Sentor immediately recognised her as Anya Yule, daughter of Cornelius Yule the waypoint’s chief clerk. She was memorable in that she was one of the few children that were not afraid to ask questions and was always first to his evening lessons. This was understandable as she was probably, by the standards of the place, the most privileged child there, even if that wasn’t saying much.

"What's the matter, dear girl?" He asked as he quickly approached her.

"Han," she gasped with tears streaming down her face. "Its Fynn, he’s hurt real bad."

"Fynn? Umm is that your dog?" he asked tentatively.

The young girl shook her head frantically. "He’s my friend. They found him over in a field near the little bridge. He is badly hurt. Please Han, you must come and help him, quickly."

She was so distraught that she could hardly string those few words without sobbing. Sentor quickly decided that, rather than try and get too much out of her, it would be better to go and see things for himself.

So grabbing his coat and slinging his medicine bag over his shoulder he said, "Quickly then Anya. Lead the way."

Ten minutes later found them outside the Yules household. It was a modestly sized building, but one of the few in the area built entirely with rough cut stone. It was also set apart from most of the other homes. Though exceedingly basic by any standard, a passer-by would have no doubt that the occupier was somebody of rank in this particular community.

Anya, half dragging the soothsayer into the house shouted, "Pa, I brought him. He’s here."

A plump little man whom the soothsayer knew to be the Tenbi waypoint chief clerk hurried over. He had a moustache favoured by nobles and wealthy merchants, which clearly gave away his delusions and desire for grandeur. Despite this odd quirk, the soothsayer had found him pleasant enough to deal with during his time here.

"Thank goodness you’ve arrived Sentor," he said grimly as he took the soothsayers coat. "The poor lad is in quite a way. My wife is tending to him as best she can, but she is way out of her depth."

Even though the soothsayer was considerably older, the chief clerk used his name as was normal between those that were considered equal in status.

The soothsayer replied with a nod, "Morning Cornelius. Please show me to him."

As he was ushered into a small room, Cornelius gently prevented Anya from going in as well by suggesting that she could further help by preparing more clean, hot water. This done, the chief clerk turned and quickly briefed him.

"I don’t know what kind of monster would do such a thing to a child," he said angrily. "He was found by old Davos as he was taking his dogs for their usual early morning walk. Initially he thought the poor lad was dead, given the state of him. But then found there was a weak pulse, so he brought him straight here. We couldn’t tell who he was at first," he paused with a grimace, "what with the blood and everything, but Anya recognised him straight away. His name is Fynn the son of… well, that’s not important, we have sent someone to inform his parents."

He said the last with a grimace causing the soothsayer to wonder what that was about.

"Anyway," Cornelius continued. "This is my wife Gloria," he referred to one of the two women that were the only other people in the room asides from the patient. "She can assist you with anything you might need. I really must head out to the main exchange now or else we won’t see any work done today," he looked towards Fynn. "I will also get some investigations started on this incident and keep you abreast if we find anything, though I doubt we will until the boy is in a fit state to tell us what he knows. You can send Anya to come and get me if something urgent comes up." With that and a polite nod he hurriedly turned to leave.

Sentor nodded politely at the two women. Gloria was as plump as her husband and had pleasant soft features. The other woman in the room was silent and held a respectful and differential expression that, along with her white cap, marked her out as a maid.

"Good morning Han, I am very glad to see you." Gloria said quietly as she rinsed a red-stained cloth in a bucket of equally red water.

"We have cleaned him up as best as we can," she continued. "And bandaged the worst of it to prevent further bleeding. However, he has been unconscious since he was found, his pulse is very faint and his body temperature very low despite our best efforts to warm him up. I’m no expert but it may be that he has lost too much blood already."

The soothsayer returned the greeting and quickly began to examine the boy’s injuries. He worked methodically, starting from the head working his way down the boy’s small frame, now almost entirely covered in bandages. The women stood back ready to lend a hand if needed.

As he worked, he listed out what he found, "Broken eye socket, broken jaw, three broken teeth, dislocated shoulder, broken right arm." His voice became grimmer as the examination went on.

When he was finally done, he stood up with a sigh, "Well there isn’t a wound deep enough to have caused significant external blood loss. And if it were only the external injuries that we can see, as horrible as they look, he would most likely, with the proper care, be able to overcome them. My concern though, is that he probably has internal bleeding both in his stomach and lungs caused by the sheer brutality of the assault. Though I can’t be sure, chances are that he also has bleeding in his brain, and there is very little we can do about that."

There was a silence as they all digested the news. At that moment there was a knock on the door. Gloria quickly went and opened it, glad for the distraction. A pale young man was standing outside clearly out of breath.

"Ahh Gerald, you are back. Did you find them?" Gloria asked.

"Yes ma’am." Gerald replied fidgeting uncomfortably.

"Well? Where are they then?" Gloria replied bitingly.

"They… Well, they wouldn’t come." He said hesitantly.

"What do you mean they wouldn’t come?" Gloria asked in disbelief. "Did you explain the severity of the situation?"

"I did ma’am," Gerald said in anguish. "The father didn’t say a word and the mother…. She just… she just.."

"She just what? For heavens sake man, spit it out."

"She just said it serves him right and that she is not going to be responsible for him." He finally blurted out.

There was shocked silence once again as they absorbed what he had just said. The maid began to weep quietly.

After a moment Sentor cleared his throat. "Perhaps they really don’t understand the gravity of the situation. I may be better placed to explain things to them. As soon as I have helped treat the worst of these injuries I will go and see them myself." He looked down at the boy and added quietly. "After all, this is very likely the last chance they have to say goodbye."

An hour or so later, the soothsayer thanked Gerald for guiding him to what he was told was Fynn’s family home and let the relieved looking young man go and get on with his day.

As with the Yules residence, this one was also set apart from the others. However, that is where any similarities stopped. If the former was the height of luxury in these parts, then this house, if it could even be called that, was the polar opposite. It ranked amongst the worst he had seen in Tenbi waypoint. Like most of the buildings here, it had a wooden frame for stability, but as this one’s had completely rotted through, what actually kept the building standing was the clay-filled wattle walls, causing it to lean dangerously to one side. He had to wonder how long it would be till it finally toppled over. The sparsely covered thatched roof was old and undoubtedly poor protection from rain. He supposed it was fortunate for them that these parts only had seasonal rainfall.

There was nobody outside so he knocked firmly on the dilapidated looking wooden door.

Almost immediately, from within came a woman’s sharp voice. "For the last time, I said leave us alone or I’ll report you for harassment."

The door was opened abruptly revealing a tall, enraged looking woman. She appeared to be about to continue shouting but upon seeing who it was, she paused and merely asked coldly. "What do you want Soothsayer? If it's about Fynn, then please save yourself the trouble and leave."

Sentor took in the tall woman stood before him. She looked to be in her late twenties, certainly not more than thirty and her humble clothing and tied back brown hair did nothing to hide her beauty. Her most striking feature, he mused, was her eyes that were a startling bright green. This was a trait he hardly ever saw in the people of the Arean Kingdom, nor in fact in any of the kingdoms south of the Strait of Darvor. But it was not unheard of.

He decided to get straight to the point. "Yes, it’s about your son Fynn."

He emphasised the words, "your son", realising that he would need every angle possible to get through to her.

"I understand you have been informed of his condition," he continued, "but perhaps you are not fully aware of how severe the situation is. It is extremely unlikely that he will pull through, so I strongly suggest you go see him along with his fath..."

"I said save it," she cut him off. "That boy has caused us nothing but trouble and I’ll have nothing more to do with him."

"He is your son, isn’t he?" Sentor asked.

Her eyes narrowed. "He is. But I said it before and I’ll say it again. I don’t care. Look at me!" she said angrily gesturing to herself and then the house. "Look at the state of this place. Do you think we can afford to care for an injured boy when we are only just barely surviving? Do you think we have money even to feed ourselves, let alone buy medicine and food for an ungrateful brat? Do you have any idea what I have to do just to get by?"

The pitch of her voice had been getting progressively higher and Sentor finally recognised what was wrong with her. This was a woman that had given in to despair. He did not know her or her circumstances, but he knew diminished responsibility when he saw it. He wasn’t naive and was well versed in the hardships and plights of the poor, but nevertheless, he wondered at what would cause a woman to even stop caring for their own child.

Sighing he spoke in a soothing tone. "Like I pointed out, it is very unlikely he will make it through and I merely thought you would like to say goodbye to him. Perhaps if I can speak to Fynn’s father."

The woman’s beautiful green eyes finally showed some emotion and she fought back tears. "He is in there," she yelled, brushing past the soothsayer while pointing back towards the room she had exited. "Speak to him for all I care, see where that gets you."

As she left, the soothsayer sighed once again to himself and approached the door. "Hello, is anyone there?"

When no response was forthcoming he let himself into the house.

The dark, soot-covered room was as basic as one would expect, with a table and three chairs taking up the center. On the floor in one corner, were what looked like wooden pallets covered in straw and a tattered blanket; he assumed that must be where Fynn slept. And in the darkness of the far corner, not far from a fireplace that was clearly used for cooking, he saw a lanky man staring at him impassively from where he was sat slouched in an armchair.

The man’s hair was long and unkempt, and despite having most of it tied back in a ponytail, there were still strands that hung down almost covering his eyes. He had a ragged beard suggesting days, if not weeks, without shaving. The dim light of the room gave the silent man an eerie aura.

"Are you Fynn’s father?" Sentor asked as he approached the man.

There was no reply, and as the soothsayer got closer, he could see that the man’s eyes were vacant almost as if looking past him at something only he could see. Sentor’s first thoughts were that perhaps the man was drunk, but there was something about the way he held himself that made him immediately discard that idea.

"Can you hear me?" Sentor tried again, leaning in close in case it was simply that the man was hard of hearing.

Again there was no response. But just as Sentor was straightening up resigned to leaving empty-handed as it were, the man’s dark eyes suddenly briefly flickered into focus and he slowly nodded.

"Well I don’t know how much you know," Sentor said gently. "But your son, Fynn, has been in a terrible incident and is badly injured. From what I have seen, there is little chance that he will make it. I wondered if perhaps you would like to see him before he… well, what I mean to ask is if you would like to see him, perhaps to say goodbye?"

There was the silence again that Sentor was now familiar with.

The moments stretched on as he waited for a response and when it appeared there would be none forthcoming, he finally said. "Well, you think on it. Fynn is currently at the chief clerk’s house, where I will look after him as best as I can in the hope that by some miracle he pulls through. But don’t take too long, you must know that there is probably very little time left, if any at all."

With that Sentor began walking towards the light of the doorway leading outside.

He had barely taken a few steps when he felt a hand grab hold of his shoulder from behind causing him to turn back.

Fynn’s father was stood now, revealing his height, which caused him to loom over even the soothsayer who himself was considered relatively tall. The expression on the tall man’s rugged face was pained and there was a light in his eyes that had been absent before. A tear slowly trickled down his cheek disappearing into the beard.

"Wait," the man said. It was the voice of someone that had almost forgotten how to speak, hoarse and hesitant. "My…," he continued, before the effort caused him a coughing fit. He tried again. "My son. Fynn. You must…," there was more coughing. "You must save him. Please."

The soothsayer, however, was hardly listening. He was staring incredulously first at the tall man’s arm rested on his shoulder and then at the face of said man standing before him.

"You," Sentor said in quiet amazement. "You are a wielder. What in god’s heavenly empire is a wielder doing in a place like this?"