It was morning again when Vanemar was forced out of his slumber. He was dragged up to the deck of the merchant ship by the two guards. Outside, clouds blanketed the morning sky. Vanemar thought the gloomy setting an ironic pairing with his current mood. He could tell where they were just by looking out into the horizon. They were in the floating Highland city of Hillspeak, where warehouses and elegant businesses faced the ships at port. It was even more crowded than the capital, filled with workers and entrepreneurs who made their livelihoods off of the mines on the surface.

Vanemar was slowly carried down the ramp ship by the two carefree guards and was brought to a halt next to the merchant, who stood patiently next to a wagon. "A shame that your wound has not healed sir, a man should at least be able to walk on their last day," said the man with a kindness that made Vanemar feel sick. "Hoist him into the wagon, I will personally bring him to the council building." The guards did as he said and lifted him, dropping him in with a thump. It gave Vanemar a headache and he realized that he had become completely immobile as the two guards entered the wagon too to hold him down, weighing on his injured leg to prevent escape. They sat beside him on the bed quite casually, their spears reminding him of what would happen if he retaliated. From his position at the driver seat, the merchant checked to see if Vanemar was in place and whipped the horse into a steady movement.

The entire trip had been spent in silence that allowed Vanemar the displeasure of fearing his impending demise. He had finally been beaten. Due to his poor sense, his final moments were going to be spent held down by two guards that he could easily avoid under any other circumstance. That fact made him frustrated beyond comprehension and caused him to struggle out of pride. But everytime he moved his leg a jolt of pain would shock him throughout his body and one of the guards would reach for their weapon. It was over, he could not formulate a single trick that would get him out of this situation. Without his equipment or a working body he was nothing, no other foolish ideas could get him out of this. The only things he was allowed to keep were his gambeson and the golden necklace, the evidence to his own crime. All he could do now was look out the side of the wagon into the sprawling city of brick and stone that passed as a blur.

Vanemar began to sweat liberally as they came nearer and nearer to the center of the city. Each stop that they would take only made his impending doom clearer. The concept of death wasn’t unusual to him of course, it was the thing that had taken a hold of his life ever since he had picked up a weapon. But the weapon was what gave him control. Now left alone and injured, the control he had was absent and the proximity of death now made him fearful instead of eager.

The next time the wagon stopped a single man had chosen to stand in its path. The merchant shouted for the man to clear the way but he would not falter, demanding that he hand the contents of the wagon over. What the man was referring to Vanemar did not have to ponder. The wagon was empty. He tried to find an escape, but the guards held him down with iron grips while they watched the spectacle. Eventually the unseen roadblock could no longer take it and his anger overcame him. The merchant was grabbed from his seat and thrown upon the ground so that he could not escape. Vanemar now had a clear view of the assailant. It was a mercenary who bore a familiar coat of arms, two swords crossed on fire. The guards finally took notice of the attack and sprang into action, jumping on the mercenary unexpectedly and wrestling him to the ground. This was his chance! Vanemar wiggled off the wagon, falling over to the ground painfully. Feeling that he could not stand now, he began to roll his body away and continued to do so until he had reached a group of onlookers.

More mercenaries sprang out from behind, kicking down the guards and making sure that they would no longer try to fight back. One of them commanded the rest to search for their man as Vanemar brought himself upright and began to hop out of sight. His injured leg and back ached and burned with unimaginable pain. As he entered an alleyway he had to stop moving. He slumped down for a moment and rubbed his throbbing leg as furious shouts came from behind. "They've brought the entire company with them." He thought fearfully. "I’ve got to get inside." He limped towards the other end and looked out towards the street on that side. More people and more mercenaries. He was almost thankful for their appearance. By causing a scene they had accidentally given him the one chance that he needed to escape. Forcing himself to not listen to the footsteps around him, he tried his best to make himself unnoticed by stumbling around through the large groups of workers that plagued the mornings. He had no cloak to hide his face as it had been cut and wrapped around the bloody injuries caused by the arrows. Breathing deeply to calm himself, he tried to find rational thoughts as he usually did. "Only way out of here is either to go down to the lowlands or take a ferry out. Both need coin." He reached to his belt, his things were gone. Everything was gone, left on the merchant's ship. He cursed in hopelessness. "I’ve been robbed. Not that it matters to anyone besides me." He knew of only one way to make money quickly and that made him even less hopeful. "Seems I’m temporarily back in business." He looked around to see if he could find any landmarks. The thin spire of the mining guild clocktower protruded slightly in the distance. He had seen it many times, it made him relieved to be so close.

Vanemar moved from crowd to crowd until he reached the more questionable part of the city. Here homes were less clean and cheap repairs stuck out like bright paint. It was also the most crowded of the districts as most were bored and spent their days drinking, playing cards, or doing whatever their minds could come up with. Vanemar took an alleyway that he had taken many times before in order to reach the door to a cellar that he once frequented. While cellars were rare in floating cities as they were in most cases illegal, this one was the only one in sight and was wide open to whoever wished to come inside. Down the stairs he went towards a large steel door that prevented the occasional oblivious visitor. Vanemar knocked until someone opened a small slit to see who it was. The eyes of the man inside quickly widened as soon as they fell upon the visitor and the door was opened without second thought. Once inside the man could only stare at Vanemar as he took a moment to remember his surroundings. The room was full and packed as it always was and a light tint of smoke hung in the air. The owner was behind the counter, busy cleaning empty bottles that lined the chipped wooden surface. "Raven?" The man whispered his name as he passed. He was about to shush but decided against it. He'd prefer any name that wasn’t the real one or "Dukeslayer." He scanned the room to see if he could recognize any old faces. His eyes finally fell upon the spectacles of a middle-aged man who had isolated himself in the furthest corner of the room. Vanemar instantly remembered him, an old employer who had given him work for the few months Vanemar had been in the city.

"Evening fellowman." The man said as Vanemar sat across from him, his eyes focused on a book. As his eyes looked up from the pages they stared blankly at him for half of a second. "Raven?" He said with gleeful surprise. "You seem to have been busy since our previous meeting."

"I’ve been in a few scraps lately.” Vanemar shook his head, he had no time to have a conversation with anyone. “I’ll get to the point, I need a job, a very quick one. One that'll pay me enough for a single seat on any ferry."

"In that much a hurry? I was about to ask if you wanted to share a drink, catch up on things." The man had a slight frown of disappointment.

"No time, I’ve been robbed and I need to get out of here fast."

"Ah, gotten yourself in big trouble haven’t you? Lucky you, I've got a job that hits right on the mark!" Vanemar gestured for the man to continue. "A magic smuggler by the name of Jioh Suhart. Lives quite nearby actually; owns a little storage house where he keeps all of his goods. Very little protection from what I heard, works with the cult but they don't send people often to help him out."

"You mean the Cult of the Lost?" As Vanemar spoke, his employer's head slowly trailed to the left.

"Um, yeah."

"I thought the government had gotten rid of them in the purge."

"Not all of them, see for yourself." He nodded behind Vanemar towards a group of men approaching them. There were five armed men in mail coming straight for him. Their surcoats colored in a white and blue pattern with a sun in the center. It was the symbol of the cult no doubt

"Need something fellowmen?" The employer asked with a fearless smile.

"Don't play dumb." The bearded man at the front said calmly. "We overheard what you had to say about our head. You wish to kill him don’t you?”

Vanemar’s jaw went slack as he tried to think, "I hadn't agreed to anything. Why are you so certain I would agree to such a thing?"

the man put his hand out. "I am just here to tell you to reconsider. If you try to take the job, we'll just have to stop you here and now." Vanemar stared at him for a moment before another cultist interrupted

“Look at what he wears on his neck!" Vanemar tried to hide his necklace as he suddenly became conscious of everyone staring at him. His face suddenly flushed. if the man recognized the necklace it could only mean one thing, they knew who he was. The man at the front suddenly gestured with his head toward the door and Vanemar had no other choice but to follow.

Vanemar was surrounded by the cultists. They did not move to attack him and stood neutrality. "You need to make some coin, correct?" The leader asked, receiving a nod from Vanemar. "Let's make a deal then. You give that necklace of yours to my employer and in return you receive a generous payment."

"I like the sound of that." Vanemar said. "But how can I trust that you won't just kill me and take it?"

The man chuckled from disbelief. "Why would I want to do such a thing? You are the one who killed Duke Kentra correct?” Vanemar’s skin crawled. “You saved the remaining few of us by doing so, I could do nothing but thank you for it."

Vanemar was confused for a moment as the memories of the duke came back to mind. His view of the cult had changed since then, and for the worse. Although The fact that the man was a cultist made Vanemar initially distrust him, he understood now why he would not attack him for being the Dukeslayer. By killing that man just months before, Vanemar had prevented the last remaining cultists from being executed and they owed him for it. "Fine." Vanemar said as he shook the man’s hand. "But make it quick, I need to leave the city as soon as possible.”

"I am very grateful. My name is Jun, I am Jioh’s messenger."

"Raven."

“Raven? You are that assassin too?”

Vanemar grunted and went silent. Staying with these people for too long would lead him to dwell on some foul memories.

Within the hull of a Honean warship a heavy knocking rang upon the door of a pitch black room. As the knocking continued, the owner of the room grumbled in his bed. They lifted their heavy body to let out a great yawn. The knocking did not stop and it was starting to become infuriating. Giris, High Mage of Honea did not know the hour nor the time of day. With a groan he pulled himself out of bed and waddled towards the door. "What do you want?" He mumbled, clenching his eyes to make out the figure within the bright light of the halls.

“You’ve been asleep for quite a while High Mage!” Said the soldier opposite of him. “The quartermaster was supposed to wake you up but he’d given up after about half an hour of knocking.” The man said with a chuckle that fell poorly on Giris’ ears.

“What time is it?” He mumbled. There was a single window on the opposite end of the hallway between the stairs which was too bright for him to see through from where he stood.

“Nearly Mid sun sir! Mess hall should be cooking up lunch by now. I could give you the report while you’re eating if you’d like.”

“And who are you?” Giris asked drowsily.

“Oh, you must have been too tired last night to remember. I’m Sergeant Clovus of the Eyesore Squadron. A small portion of the squadron, including myself will be your entourage for this mission.”

“Where is the rest of you then?”

“Waiting in the mess halls sir.”

“I’ll be down there in a moment, leave me alone so I can get changed.”

“Sir!” The man said loudly, saluting with his fist against his heart.

Giris closed his door and stalked across the dark room to uncover the magic lamp on his empty wooden desk. "Cursed thing!" He exclaimed, recoiling from the bright light. “They should have broken the door down if they wanted to wake me up instead of letting so much time pass! Damn embarrassing!”

Giris had been assigned by the Arch Duke himself to recover the artifact which hung around the Dukeslayer’s neck. An artifact which would greatly develop his research and likely that of many others as well. All he had to do was catch its wearer before they could scuttle away. Giris knew that if the necklace got into the hands of some Brighthawk all of the history contained would be hidden forever, so the thought that he could lose his opportunity today made him extremely vexed.

While fueling his anger within his mind, Giris quickly put on a set of fine green robes, a staple of the mages who work under the Council of Honea called the Magikaynium. Accompanying the robes was a wide beret of the same design, something that Giris hardly wore. A glance into the mirror showed a concerning sight, his eyes were surrounded by a dark tint and his beard had become a disheveled growth. He couldn’t give a damn about it though, people cared more about what was in his head than what was on it.

Giris entered the mess hall, a small place in the center of the ship consisting of two tables and a kitchen. "Seems you're somewhat up and ready High Mage." Clovus said with a smile. Giris could see him clearly now. The man was older than him, with a full beard with white hairs that made it obvious.

"That quartermaster should have knocked louder honestly, I don’t have the best hearing." Giris responded while attempting to hide his anger.

The soldier chuckled as he shoved Giris’ meal towards him. "Don't worry about it, the quartermaster didn't know he was supposed to wake you up and decided to leave you alone. Took me a while to realize that you weren’t actually awake after a few knocks.”

“Hard to wake up at this hour when I haven’t kept an honest schedule since I graduated from university.” Giris began to go through his food quickly. “Let’s move on, what’s your situation report Sergeant?” He asked while chewing

Clovus looked away from his comrades and looked straight at Giris with a hard expression. “The Dukeslayer has run off again. The mercenaries that the Arch Duke had hired to catch him tried to take from the merchant but I guess the man still had some life left in him and got away. No one has seen him and the mercenaries are starting to tear the city apart to find him. Captain Sudai’s went to alert the city garrison. I’d say that he’s looking to scruff with the mercenaries since they’ve got the whole city scared. I wouldn’t worry about it too much sir, our duty is to figure out where the Dukeslayer is; the Captain can deal with the fine details.”

Eyesore squadron waited for the man to finish chewing before he spoke again. “Right, then I’ve formulated our plan.”

"Already sir?” Clovus asked, his serious expression replaced with disbelief.

“Yes, all we need is to be able to get to that merchant’s ship and then I should be able to use my magic to find the Dukeslayer.”

Giris’ bodyguards stared at him with increasing confusion. “But, how?” Clovus asked on their behalf.

“I can tell you everything you need to know when you need to know it. Let's get moving.”

“Uhm, Yes sir!” the soldiers quickly fumbled about as they got ready.

“Lets see you run now Dukeslayer.” Giris thought as he concentrated on his newfound idea.

The mage and his entourage ascended the stairs to the deck. The darkened sky above made it chilly under the ship’s balloon. Compared to how it usually was, the streets were empty. The majority of those around the port were either dockhands or the soldiers who had come with Giris from the capital city of Hien. Giris noticed a group farther down the port who were near another ship. They were inspecting the goods that were being hauled onto it and conversing with its owner. Giris led the group towards them, getting a salute as soon as he noticed, "High Mage, it is good that you are awake. We have run into some complications."

“If it’s about the Dukeslayer, I’ve heard all about it. I need to know where the nearest Port Master is.”

The soldier pointed down the direction they were heading. “Not too far from here if you keep going that way.”

Giris nodded and began to move with purpose.

As they continued down the port Clovus came to Giris’ side. “Sorry if I’m being too forceful sir but do you mind telling us what this plan of yours is? It’s a bit hard for us to be your bodyguards if we don’t know what to look out for.”

Giris grunted but relented from an outburst. “I plan to use a tracking spell to find the Dukeslayer. In order to use the spell I have to find a fragment of his hair or skin and the only place I am certain it would be is the merchant’s ship.”

“A tracking spell? Never heard of it.” Clovus responded, on edge after noticing the mage’s foul mood.

The High Mage gestured around uselessly. “It creates a ball of light that follows the owner of the biological matter. That’s all you need to know.”

“Oh… Interesting.”

The Port Master’s place was a small, one story building that stood alone on the stone surface of the port. Giris knocked and waited as shouting arose from behind the door.

"What in th-" The port master inside answered in annoyance before he finally choked on his words and saluted. "High Mage." The man said backing off. "Are you here for the investigation?"

"I need to see today’s port logs.” Giris responded simply.

"I'll go get them." The port master said as he hurriedly strided down the hallway and through a door at the end. An exchange of shouting came from behind the door until the port master returned to the group who now looked at eachother with amusement. The man breathed heavily as if he had just ran. "Port logs, today's." He handed him a single document. It was a short list that showed the time, name of the owner, appearance of the ship, and reason for arrival. Giris knew nothing specific about the ship in question so he began to think.

"Well he was a merchant in a merchant sized vessel so that shortens the list. He also came much earlier than us as well so that takes out even more..." There were eventually two choices left, both being right next to each other. He looked at the guard who was watching him intently. "Know anything useful about these two." He asked as he pointed to the two entries.

The guard looked at it before looking towards the door behind him. "Wixa! Get out here!" He yelled. Frantic fumbling could be heard before a guard appeared at the door.

"Yes sir!" The man said attentively.

"You took the morning shift right? Good, get over here and help the High Mage identify these two ships." Wixa stared blankly at the page for a second before he snapped his fingers in recollection.

"That first one was owned by a man who said he was transporting fabrics. The second one had the dark skin of a Tavaranien and said he was transporting some raw materials. He wasn’t very specific though."

Giris stood silently for a moment before finally coming to a conclusion. "We're going to the second one then. If there is one type of man who would dare cross mercenaries in Honea it would be a Tavaranean."

"I'll take you to it then sir." The guard offered as he went through the door. "Shouldn’t be too far from here."

"Fine, get moving."

The guard led them down the unusually quiet port towards the ship in question. It’s hull was made up of a very dark wood making it stand out from the rest of the docked ships. A figurehead of a woman holding a book and doing what was probably preaching sat at the front facing the city. As they walked Giris took the time to prepare his magic. The most common way that a mage cast spells was through a Magiglove. A glove with a circular piece of metal called a Signcaster on the back that allowed signs to be temporarily engraved into it for specific spells. A thin pipe went through the signcaster, flowing towards the front and to his belt where he had a jar filled with liquid orange magic. The liquid was the fuel for the spells and the color signified that the type of magic only worked on biological matter. Giris quickly drew a sign on the Signcaster, a series of lines that were meant to signify the tracker spell.

The group went to a halt at the ramp of the ship which was held up by a set of two thick ropes. "Hey!" The guard yelled to its occupants as loudly as he could. “By order of the port master I beseech one of you to show yourself to us!" They waited in silence for a moment until a long haired man finally showed his head. "Sorry to appear without notice sir. The Honean military is conducting an investigation. Do you mind if the High Mage comes in for a moment?" The guard said politely.

The man scratched his head and looked toward the ramp with indecisiveness. "I'm not too sure I can do that. You're going to have to wait until the captain comes back if you want the ramp down."

Giris sighed, “You idiot! Your captain was attacked this morning. Do you really expect us to wait until he comes back?”

The man opened his mouth in surprise. "Really?"

“I wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t!”

The man’s eyes widened, “Alright, I'll bring you up." He began to spin the lever that let down the ramp. The group stepped back for a moment to get out of its way as its shadow appeared from above.

"Thank you." The guard said before turning to the High Mage. "I'll be waiting out here sir, don't want to interrupt the investigation."

The mage nodded and went up to address the deckhand. "We need to see where you kept the Dukeslayer." He said frankly.

The man's eyes widened as he heard the name. "Is that who he was?"

“For the love of- did you not even know that it was him!” Giris shouted suddenly

The man backed off and began to fumble his words, "No, the captain didn't ask any questions when he captured him. We just assumed the man was worth something and took him in.”

Giris shook his head in frustration, "Well, I'm guessing that the man would have taken him anyway. Just show me to the room."

"This way." The man said with a gulp as he led them to the floor below.

They were led to a cramped storage room with a few empty boxes laying about. In the center was a bloodstained rag where the deckhand pointed towards.

"What a place to sleep." The High Mage said as he crouched down by it. "Did they torture him or something?"

“Mercenaries must have roughened him up before he got on the ship.” Clovus said as he looked over what was left. "A single man against an entire mercenary company. That Dukeslayer is impressive.”

"Just proves what a pack of fools they were,” Giris said as he lit the area around him with the magic jar that had been at his waist. “This dry blood just won't do." He bent closer to the rag, squinting his eyes in hopes of finding something, he felt relieved to see a few strands of hair shining in the light. "This should work." He said as he inspected it. "As long no one else has slept here." Clovus opened his mouth to say something but closed it as he saw the mage reach for something under his robe. A small glass box no bigger than his fingers. He attached it to the tube at the end of his magiglove. Then opening the box, he gently placed the strand inside before shutting it in. "I don't have a glass globe to use, so I'll just have to make do."

Clovus now looked at it in curiosity. “Never seen a contraption like that before.”

“It's called a transferrer, meant for using magic on a small object in the long term.” He clenched his fist, pulling a lever under his glove that let the magic flow through his Magiglove and caused The air around it to glow with a bright orange light. A small orange orb the size of a grape suddenly formed above the palm of his hands. The whole room watched captivated as the thing shook as if it were about to escape an invisible prison. “And this is the tracker.” Giris spoke. “Should have brought something to hold it in. It's a bit straining to keep it under control like this so let's get moving before the Dukeslayer gets himself in trouble again.” The soldiers nodded in unison. Under the leadership of the High Mage they no longer believed that they could fail.