The two knights and Lizardkin was now deep into the forest at night. Though Art had a ball of light to guide them forward, Morgan was starting to worry about their road back. They had been walking for only a few minutes, but she already could not recognise the trail around them. The trees were slightly sparser the further north they went, as the tundra starts across the border far over the horizon, where the beginning of the season cooled the north back into its icy demeanour. But the leaves on the trees on their side of the border were still green, and would stay that way for 3 more seasons. But cold seasonal winds did blow through, sending slight shivers through them.

From the corner of her eyes, Morgan saw the silhouette of a triangular leaf that hung between 2 trunks. It took a moment for her to realize it was not a motley shaped leaf, but a hammock, and the point of the triangle was a lizarkin's tail.

She started noticing more. A pile of what she thought were rocks were actually provisions in sacks next to a collection of bindle sticks. Bushes were actually lean-tos, and curtain of vines were actually the hung skin of animals left out to tan.

They had entered the Lizardkin's city without knowing. Was it a city? The lack of permanent buildings reminded Morgan more of the nomadic desert caravans of Jarad rather than any forest dwellings.

What differed though was the lack of light. There were no torches or lamps. No magic bulbs nor light crystals. She knew the lizardkins were comfortable with the dark, but she had never assumed they lived in it.

‟It isss said that usss lizzzardkinsss came from the line of the basssilisk.” Their guide, Lands Lord hissed. ‟Like the drakin and their dragon lineage.”

Art swept her light over the darkness as sharp lids followed their movements. ‟The basilisk was a known hunter in the dark. It could see in complete blackness.”

‟That'sss a myth. We are hunter-born, and our eyesss letsss usss track one target accurately. And over the last two hundred yearsss of our sssself imposssed exxxile, we have developed better vision in the dark.”

The party approached a lizardkin figure that sat on a fallen log. Even in the dark, Morgan could tell their age from the way the light of Art's magic waved over their creased skin, their pale green scale left with only tiny specks of their once lustrous shine.

‟Landsss?” The old lizardkin voiced. Her eyes darted towards the light and murky blindness looked back through irises. ‟Have you brought more guestsss?” With a cane is hand, the old lizard slowly stood to her feet.

‟Kin Fisher!” Lands rushed forward to help her up. ‟You mustn't move too much. Think of your injuriesss.”

‟Quiet now, young one. The day hasss been eventful. Now, introductionsss are in order, no?”

Lands sighed. ‟I have brought Artria Pendragon of the Knightsss of the Round, and her knight, Morganna Dresssden.”

‟No doubt a grain in the hour of dessstiny have dropped to bring forth one of legend asss the knight commander herssself.”

‟Nothing that dramatic, old one,” Art stepped forward. ‟Kin. From what I remember, that title goes to the eldest of a Lizardkin tribe.”

‟Ah,” Fisher replied, excited. ‟You are familiar with our kind then?”

‟The last 'Kin' I interacted with was one called Warrior.”

Fisher's expression drooped quickly. ‟I apologizzze. But we are not the sssame people you fought in the war.”

‟We shall see,” Art answered. ‟You have taken a young woman from the village. We are here to see to her safety.”

‟Of course. Landsss, if you may get the girl while I entertain out guestsss.”

Lands bowed. ‟Of course, Kin Fisher.” Before he left, he helped Fisher back onto her seat before sliding away into the dark.

‟Would you two ladiesss care for a campfire on thisss cold night?” Fisher asked, gesturing for them to sit.

Morgan moved to lower herself but paused when she noticed Art remained standing. ‟If you would not mind,” the knight commander requested.

Fisher waved her cane over the empty ground between them. Roots grew quickly from the earth beneath, taking the shape of a kindling pyre. With a gentle tap, the lively dark of the tuber quickly dried to a light brown. With another light flick of her left hand, she tossed a small ball of fire into the kindle, which caught the flame and slowly burned.

Morgan whispered under her breath. ‟Dual magic.” Intrigued, she squatted down for a closer look at the flame, forgetting her social hesitation at her commander's lack of movement.

‟Yesss...” Fisher admitted. ‟Rare though it may be, I'm afraid I squandered my youth, and am not proficient in magic apart from daily functionsss.”

Art interjected, ‟I don't think you sent Lands Lord away just to impress us with your light show.”

‟Indeed, I did not. Your diplomatic awarenessss are beyond what we hear from between the vinesss, Artria Pendragon.” Her eyelids curtained as she spoke her thoughts. ‟We do not often light a fire here in the tribe for fear we would be ssseen by your villagesss. For the passst two hundred yearsss, we have hidden from the world, a punishment for our crimesss during the war. But we live short lifesss not comparable to the other racesss. There are none but me left in the tribe that even knew of anyone alive during the war, and even I knew only of my grandfather who wasss but a year old back then. I would like to have the children play by the warmth of a flame again, to allowed freedom to return to the world.”

The knight commander crossed her arms. ‟There are no official rulings that prevents your kind from returning.”

‟But to have left of our own will, only to return in hassste would scare the population of other mortalsss. I would prefer if we were given an official announcement of return.”

‟We are not here on any diplomatic mission, Kin Fisher. We are simply investigating a murder.”

‟I understand. But I believe in grasssping an opportunity when available, and thisss might be the only option for me to hand the future to the next generation. I feel you are the onesss who would help bring freedom to my tribe, to let them reintegrate back into the world at large.”

‟I think you are wrong,” Art answered quickly. ‟But we shall see, depending on your cooperation with us.”

Morgan was finding a hard time to say anything. She could not help but feel Art was constantly slipping into anger more than she had ever seen before. But just as she was thinking of bringing it up, Lands Lord returned with the accused Lizardkin and the girl. The couple came towards them with their hands grasped firmly with each others'.

Getting to her feet, Morgan berated, ‟I told you two to stay.”

The male replied, ‟I'm sssorry. But my tribe came for me, and we had to leave before being revealed. What do we do now?”

‟First off,” Art said. ‟You'll come back with us until we are ready to judge the case.”

Fisher immediately interjected, ‟I'm afraid that won't be possssible, Lae Artria Pendragon.”

Art raised an annoyed brow. ‟I thought you wanted to integrate back into the world? That would mean following its laws.”

‟Yesss,” Fisher replied. ‟However, our tribesss are not one yet. And while that holdsss true, we will protect our own.”

‟And the girl?”

‟The girl came to usss for protection and to be with her love. In our view, the girl isss one of our tribe.”

In a bright flash of light, Artria summoned her weapon, a 2 meter long great-sword that was as wide as a board. Despite its clear weight, she held it only in her one hand. The marble core of the weapon stretched into the cross-guard, looking like the outline of a separate shaded sword embedded into the blade of golden rim. The handle was a straight pole of gold that lengthened halfway into the sword itself. It looked expensive. It looked regal. It looked destined.

Lands Lord jumped between Art and Fisher, drawing his weapon between them. Morgan, instinctively, summoned her sword, though she was unsure if the lizardkins was really their enemy. They had not shown any hostility in that regard. She was one quick to fight, but that had always been based on instinct, and her instincts were quiet then.

Art's voice lowered with an anger Morgan rarely heard outside of fierce battles. ‟Is this your idea of cooperation?”

Fisher still sat on her log, unmoved by the display of near violence. Maybe she could not see it. Maybe she could not care. Her greyed out eyes watched the flickers of the fire between them. Around them in the dark, lizardkins's eyes reflected the embers, tracing the party as the girl hid behind her lizardkin love.

Were they the bad guys?

‟Art,” Morgan began. ‟Let's take a step back. We don't have to fight.”

‟Indeed...” Fisher added, a slip of disappointment in her voice. Then, hopeful. ‟A compromissse then. We will not run, nor will we hide or fight. But we will protect our own. Our tribe will ssstay in sssight of the village until the murder can be solved. The couple will be with usss until then, and if trial can be conducted fairly, we will play our part.”

Art questioned, ‟You're coming out of exile?”

‟That isss the plan. I assssume we would need to essstablish an official channel. Young Landsss here will aid you in doing that. Would thisss arrangement be adequate, Lae Atria Pendragon?”

The knight commander looked around her, then down to her golden sword. Her brows were still slightly crunched in an unreadable expression. Her eyes peripherally glanced at Morgan.

Morgan gave a slight nod, hoping to show her trust in Art.

‟Very well. We accept this arrangement.” Art held her hand to Lands Lord, the representative. The lizardkin set the pole of his lance into the ground before taking a step forward and shaking her hand. She punctuated, ‟For now.”