When Mister Falcon rode into Meridea, the snow had nearly melted. What little patches of white remained had mostly turned to sludge from a heavy rain the evening before. Now it was early afternoon but dark, overcast and freezing, the streets quiet and mostly empty. The few citizens outdoors hustled along to their destinations, bundled up against the cold and wind.

Falcon maintained a brisk, steady pace on the cobblestone streets, his majestic pure white steed showing no sign of fatigue. Beecher rode beside Falcon, on a horse that was of fine quality but not as impressive. They rode down Front Street, turning on Royal Avenue and stopping in front of the Regal Inn.

A stable boy hurried over to take their horses, exhaling frost in the cold but eager for a tip.

Beecher entered first while Falcon waited, gazing about, oblivious to the frigid temperature.

Beecher returned and nodded to indicate that all was well inside.

Falcon went in.

“Afternoon, sir,” said the innkeeper.

The inn was not empty but not nearly as busy as it had been a few days before. A room was available. Beecher handled matters with the innkeeper.

Falcon told Beecher, “Stay here and keep an eye out.”

He followed the innkeeper up to his room. The man offered to carry his equipment but Falcon declined.

Inside the room, the man made a show out of explaining all of the luxuries and amenities that it had to offer. Before he could finish, Falcon gave him a handful of coins and told him he was satisfied. The man thanked him and excused himself.

Falcon eyed the bed wistfully, but stood in place and waited several minutes.

When the bells tolled four times, Falcon came back to life and walked out of the room, down the hall, stopping at a door that had a small smudge of mud on it.

Falcon rapped on the door with a gloved fist and waited. A woman answered, quite pretty with full red lips, large eyes and unblemished youthful skin.

“Mister Falcon? Come in please. Lord Roane is expecting you.”

He entered and she closed the door.

Inside was the suite in which Krista had stayed.

“Lord Roane should be out in a moment,” the woman said. “May I offer you a drink? Wine, ale, whiskey? Something to eat perhaps?”

“No, thank you. Roane said four o’clock. Four bells. Four bells rang nearly five minutes ago now.”

“I am very sorry. He should be out in a moment. Please, sit down and make yourself comfortable.”

“Go get him please.”

“Well, sir, he knows you are here. He will be right out-“

“He has thirty seconds to get his ass out here, or-“

“Or what?” Griffin Roane walked out of the master bedroom, fiddling with the top button on his shirt. He smiled broadly. “Always so good to see you, Mister Falcon. It has been too long. Juli, please leave us.”

When Juli had left the suite, Roane said, “Please, have a seat.”

“I’ll stand, thank you.”

“I realize you are physically as comfortable standing as sitting, Falcon. But really, we have customs here in Friedor. We try our very best to be civilized. Are you not familiar with our customs after all this time?”

“I’m familiar. I’d just prefer we skip all the bullshit and get right to it. What do you want? Why did you send for me?”

“What do I want?” Roane echoed, as if the question surprised him. He turned his back on Falcon, went to the window and looked out.

“Well,” Roane said. “That is an odd question for a man of your intelligence to ask. A man wishes to waste no time, not even the single moment required for common courtesies, and yet, asks a question that he almost surely knows the answer to.”

“Ok. Besides wanting Alec Braun dead, what do you want?”

Griffin Roane said nothing for a time, still looking out the window.

“Tell me,” he said at last. “What were you going to do if I did not appear in ‘thirty seconds’ as you were saying when you were being unkind and rude to my servant? I find myself genuinely curious.”

“I would have walked. Which is what I’m about to do now.”

“Is that so? After coming all this way just to see me, after I summoned you?”

“I didn’t come just to see you, Roane.”

“Oh no? Why else did you come? To look for Alec Braun? He was already here, three days ago. He is long gone now.”

“I know he was here. I have people here, you know.”

“Did your people tell you that he saw the Empress? That he now rides under her banner? That she even gave him a title, First Sword of Destra? Not to mention six of her finest men, with instructions to recruit more, in her name. He is on his way to building an army.”

“That will only make him easier to find.”

“Perhaps. But more difficult to kill.”

“Not too difficult for me, Roane. Remember who you’re talking to.”

“Oh, how could I forget? I am talking to the greatest ‘player’ in this ‘game.’ You still really believe that, Mister Falcon?”

“It’s a fact.”

“Not anymore. You have heard of Michael Trang, have you not? The man holds an entire city now. Also several villages in Fedra, Shadrol and Gelden, not to mention numerous settlements on the Frontier. You have no towns, no villages, one small expedition just making its way to the Frontier.”

“He’s a guild leader. I don’t do guilds. I’m still the best individual player.”

“Wrong again. A woman in Scai Snana passed you this morning. Go ahead and check for yourself. I will wait.”

“I will kill Alec Braun, Roane. Are you finished busting my balls and trying to impress me with how much information you have?”

“Oh, you are not impressed? What a pity. I regret the feeling is mutual. I blame myself. I put my faith in the wrong man.”

“You want me off the job – just say so.”

“Oh no. You will not get off the hook that easily. Sadly, nor will I. I cannot simply hire another outlander to eliminate Braun, though I am beginning to think just about anyone could do a better job. He has now gained favor with the Empress.”

“And you are loyal to your Empress, right Roane? So cancel the job then. Christ, Alec is an asshole, yes, but I’m guessing he has no idea he even insulted you. Get over it. Be a man.”

Roane laughed. “To think I require lessons from you about being a man. Let us make one thing perfectly clear. I am a loyal and faithful servant to the Empress, in all things. I love her. I admire her. I respect her, more than any other. But in this, honor is honor. Alec Braun will die. You will kill him. No trail will lead back to me.”

“You know what, I’m getting tired of dealing with you Roane, and I was just thinking about visiting the Empress myself, now that she’s suddenly willing to see outlanders. So I think I’ll have a talk with her. Maybe your name will come up. Maybe not.”

Roane became very still. His blue eyes, which had been amused and laughing, went cold.

He walked slowly to Falcon, each step deliberate.

Falcon stood in place, meeting the cold gaze without flinching.

Roane slapped him in the face.

The blow made a loud sound in the quiet room. It had no physical effect at all on Falcon. His head did not even move.

Falcon stared at Roane in disbelief.

“I know it doesn’t hurt,” said Roane. “But it is shameful, is it not? To be struck by me and not be able to do a single thing in retaliation? Knowing that if you so much as lay a finger on me, someone you care about will die?”

“Tamara? She means nothing to me.”

“Really? You are a very poor liar, Jason.”

“What did you call me?”

“Falcon. What a silly, stupid name. From now on, I will call you by your real name I think. Never threaten me again.”

“Fuck you.”

“Careful,” Roane said softly. “I hired you to kill a man for the simple reason that I did not care for the way he spoke to me. I made a mistake in hiring you. I never make the same mistake twice. There are ten million of you outlanders here in my world, ten thousand here in Friedor. You think I cannot find one willing to pay a visit to 301 Tremont Lane, Wilmington, Delaware?”

“Roane…”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. If you cross me, we shall have to see.”

“Roane, I want out. I don’t want to do this anymore. I’m sorry for everything. I’m done with this game, done with your world forever.”

“Really? You would give up, just like that?” Roane's eyes narrowed in disbelief.

“I’m not enjoying this anymore. It’s not fun. It’s not a fucking game anymore. I’m leaving.”

Roane's face twisted in contempt. “You leave, and in five minutes – let’s see, that would be 5:25 p.m. in your world – one of my men will be carving his name in Tamara’s nice big tits, while another of my men...well, I'll allow you to use your imagination.”

“Come on,” Falcon breathed.

Roane chuckled. “This is so ironic. Unlike you, I am enjoying this. It is fun. And it is a game.”

“Please. I’ll do anything you want. Tell me what you want me to do.”

“You can begin by sitting down.”

In Meridea, the streets were quiet.

An assassination attempt on the Empress had failed. Queen Elyscia of Fedra had been named the orchestrator of the plot. Every one of her people had been executed – the queen herself declared an outlaw. Most of her people had been quartered, their heads and limbs scattered about the city, on pikes. One of her ladies in waiting, a lovely young woman named Krista, was the last to be executed. She was hanged, and her blackening body still swung from the gallows.

As it grew dark, two riders, Falcon and Beecher, rode out of the city at a full gallop.