Making his way through the mansion that was once his cousin’s home, Benali Tuath felt like he was helpless prey. Though the smooth marbled floor, white walls, and ceiling stretched openly around him, it somehow felt like a cage he had willingly entered and may never escape.

He thought back to fond memories, chasing his older cousin Seulman on these very tiles. They had spent many days running after each other, playing knights and dragons or fighting imaginary battles as pirates and sailors while their fathers meted out rule over the northern state that bore their name.

There was small comfort to Benali in the knowledge that the young man he had watched grow up had not turned into the monster he had gotten to know these past months. The thought did little to calm his nerves as he knocked on the office doors of the Tuath mansion, and a voice from inside beckoned him to enter.

Sirul was alone in the office. Curtains swayed in the breeze with the balcony doors open wide to the sunny expanse of Tuath sprawling below them. All but twenty of the Tuath armada’s ships were moored out in the deeper reaches of the bay. From the mansion, they looked like so many bobbers in a pond.

It was a surreal moment for Benali, looking upon the man known as Sirul as if it was for the first time. He had rehearsed the coming conversation for hours with Harpis in Fjall, and he was undoubtedly one for remembering lines. He would have been a poor excuse for a bard if he could not, but he was nervous all the same. After all, this was the first time his life depended on his ability to perform.

“You have been gone long, cousin,” Sirul said from across the giant desk without rising to greet him. “Please take a seat.”

Benali did as asked and hoped his nervousness around the assassin would not draw any suspicion. But, if he was honest with himself, he had been quite uneasy around the man for some time, even before he knew it was no longer Myrlman Tuath.

“So, Benali, where have you been this past week? Was your compatriot successful in finding new songs imparted with the gift of magic?”

The Impresario shifted hesitantly for a moment before steadying himself for perhaps his life’s most important verses.

“I was gone longer than expected trying to find our gifted nomadic bard, Virtuoso Mahala Shelta. Maestro Bravit did indeed find a book with several gifted songs contained within it. Still, I fear it was beyond the skill of he and I. Mahala is the bard most experienced in weaving the gift into music. Sadly, I was unable to find her, but I did find several of my bards abroad and have sent them to task in finding her and sending her to us.”

Sirul searched the man’s face for several agonizing moments. “You look like you have something else you wish to say, Benali?” he asked, leaning back in his chair.

“I do, cousin,” he said, the familial label catching in his throat. He forced composure into his voice and continued. “I have decided that I want to do more to support the return to power you are orchestrating for our family and city-state. I have also instructed the bards I did encounter to ultimately return to the Hall. We will gather and spread information at your request Myrlman, for the greater good of Tuath.”

It was hard for him to get the name out without choking on it. At his last statement, Sirul raised his eyebrows approvingly.

“I am glad to see you fully in the fold, cousin. But, of course, you may return to your Hall at once and begin your operations there. I will send a company of militiamen to garrison with you and keep the new eyes and ears of Tuath safe.”

Benali almost got up to leave. The conversation had gone as Harpis had said it would. He now had his chance to get safely to The Hall as had been the plan.

His conscience would not let him. “If it is all the same to you, I think I would like to spend a night or two in the city. After all the traveling I have just finished, a few days here would do me well. I will make for The Hall in a couple of days.”

Sirul dismissed him with a hand wave. “Do as you wish. It makes no difference to me, though I am excited for you to finish this work with your fellow gifted bards.”

Benali Tuath was almost through the door when Sirul stopped him. “Why weren’t you at the council? You knew ahead of time that I had sent for the other governors to meet me last week.”

“I, uh, my apologies Myrlman, by the time I remembered it in my quest across the southland for the Virtuoso, I was too far to make it in time. I thought it more useful to our cause to carry on the task at hand,” Benali answered, trying not to shake at the thought of further interrogation

Sirul did not seem concerned with his explanation. Benali had forgotten to tell Harpis that he was supposed to be at that council meeting, so they had not come up with a reason for his absence. Any further excuses or answers would be unrehearsed and of his own creation.

Sirul looked at him inquisitively for a moment. “It is just that your opinion would have been valuable. I feel comfortable controlling the pawn from Kalt or Svenus Kalt himself should it be necessary to put him in that seat. Similarly, I think that whoever the people of Mer put in that room with me will bend to intimidation easily enough. However, what are your thoughts on Aanaman Reaper of Ravnice?”

Benali chuckled, in part in relief at realizing why Sirul was pressing him and at the frustration in Sirul’s voice as he said Aanaman’s name. “If ever there was a fish out of water in politics, it would be the farmer turned governor from Ravnice. If you can work around him and let him alone, he does not care for anything outside of his state and will likely leave us to our own devices. Try and pull that stick out of mud, though, and you may find it pulls back.”

With that, Benali made his exit from the killer’s cage, but not the city, as had been the plan.

*****

The guards in front of Aanaman Reaper’s house nearly stabbed Harpis when he snuck up and told them he needed to meet with the governor and that it was a matter of the utmost urgency.

“By the gods, bard! You scared me half to death! Where have you been these past weeks?” one of them asked him.

Harpis did not have time for much explaining. He needed to return to the ship in the next few hours before dawn arrived. Inconveniently, due to his love of the fields, the governor’s house was on the city’s far side from the coast.

He pressed the men. “It is urgent, and it is for his ears and the ears of Captain Kilannry only. Can one of you men wake him and send him this way as well? Thousands of lives hang in the balance.”

One of the men took off at a run to get the captain, and the one who had challenged him brought him hastily inside.

Aanaman Reaper had not bothered to get dressed and now sat behind his desk shirtless in cloth pants. “I did miss you Harpis, but I tell you, I could have waited until morning to greet your return. So where in the world have you been anyway? You’ve been gone for weeks.”

Harpis lifted his hands apologetically and was going to ask the governor to wait for Kilannry when the much grumpier man walked into the room without knocking.

“This had better be good, bard,” He muttered and dropped into his chair opposite Harpis at the small table.

Aanaman looked at him with a grin. “You see, Harpis, we’ve all missed you so,” he said with a wave at the captain before becoming more serious. “So, what is it that demands our attention before dawn?”

Harpis hoped his assessment of the faith his present company held in him was accurate. “As to where I have been, I don’t know that you would believe me.”

Captain Kilannry interrupted him, “Bah, enough intrigue boy, spit it out.”

Harpis squeezed his eyes shut in a momentary cringe and then went on. “Well, sirs, I was in Tuath, convincing the Impresario to join me for a secret meeting with the governor of Fjall. We worked out a plan with the help of the Exarch, the Arch Mage, and the Death Herald. We were there at the request of a millennium and some years old elf who was the founder of a clandestine organization called The Syndicate. I was a member of said Syndicate until Tuath raided our island south of Kalt and slaughtered every person there.”

After he finished, there was a long, empty silence that was finally disturbed by the sound of the governor pulling a cork from a bottle.

“If you aren’t drunk in the telling of that tale, then I am sure to be needing a drink to hear the rest,” Aanaman stated as he poured all three a glass.

“That does explain the absence of certain individuals at our last council meeting. It would seem Myrlman Tuath has eyes for unifying the human city-states against the dwarves and choking every ounce of power and influence he can from us. I feel I may have endangered our people by my response. However, I don’t know that our people would have been safe for long, no matter how I handled the situation.”

Harpis hoped the surprising ease with which they accepted his first statement would hold for the next one. “It is not Myrlman Tuath. It is a former assassin of The Syndicate gone rogue. His real name, the one he had as a child, was Sirul Amun. He stole an enchanted clay mask from The College of Elements some months ago and used it to impersonate Myrlman Tuath. We believe Myrlman died in the raid where he was supposedly almost kidnapped, after which all of the recent conflicts began developing at the supposed hands of Sirul.”

Captain Kilannry almost choked mid-sip as he drank. “A magical mask that lets you look like someone else, hah!”

Harpis shot the older man a stern look. “The clay mask of Breyva can hold the illusion until its wearer dies. Thankfully, we have a plan to hopefully bring Tuath and her people to their senses. In the meantime, I think there are actions Ravnice should take.”

Aanaman sat up straight and dropped his bare feet from their regular spot propped up on his desk. “This does sound like quite the fantasy. However, I had met Myrlman Tuath on several occasions when Seulman would try to bring him along to council meetings. The perfumed and pampered young man I met years ago bore nothing but a physical resemblance to the keen-eyed killer I sat across from at the last council meeting. So, bard, what would you have us do?”

Harpis sighed aloud in relief at being heeded before describing the plan. “I am to sail north with a small force and sneak into Tuath in hopes of dealing with Sirul directly. The dwarven army from Fjall will liberate Mer. We plan to destroy their docks, for now, to prevent Tuath from unloading thousands of militiamen onto their shore in response. We think it would be best if you would also destroy your docks this morning.”

Captain Kilannry scoffed at the notion. “Destroy our own city docks? Why don’t we just invade ourselves for them?”

“We do not know the location of the Tuath Armada or if there is more than one flotilla. But, with your docks destroyed or inaccessible, Ravnice’s harbor could be easily defended from landing parties with a few groups of archers,” Harpis said, unfazed.

The captain finally nodded in agreement. “Admittedly, we could easily defend our harbor that way.”

Harpis was less confident the men would accept his next request. “We also think it would be best for everyone if a large portion of Ravnice’s militia marched south to the Kalt border. It will serve Ravnice and our efforts in the north well to have them there in case Sirul has some contingency in place to have Kalt climb up our backside.”

“Well, I would be fairly confident that without Tuath to back them, the Kalt family, or the governor, or whoever is really in charge down there will not have the stomach to go into battle,” Aanaman said.

Harpis was more than glad the governor was following. “That is our presumption as well and with Mer liberated, there will be another ten thousand militiamen, maybe more, to join our cause if this does turn into a real war. In either case, this plan offers at least the chance for minimal bloodshed. After liberating Mer, the dwarves will march on Tuath to draw all enemy forces north and away from Ravnice and away from being able to support Kalt.”

Captain Kilannry blew a loud whistle. “That is quite the plan. The boys have been itching for a march and some proper military activity since all these tensions began. I think the young bard is right, Aanaman. With the docks unusable, we could pepper even a large landing party as they approached from the ocean.”

Aanaman stared hard at Harpis. “How long can I think about this?”

The bard stood from his chair, turned his glass upside down, and met the governor’s stare. “I need your answer now, sir.”

Aanaman stepped around his desk and clasped Harpis on the shoulder. “Then you have it, don’t worry about looking over your shoulders for the spineless tree cutters to the south. We will ensure that they do not make it across our lands and will destroy the harbor docks before dawn, as you have asked. I felt hopeless that violence was coming to us. You have given me hope for continued independence and eventual peace where I did not think we had any.”

“Don’t go dying up there in the north and leave me alone with this drunk. If the three of us are honest, he’s better at running a distillery than a city-state,” Captain Kilannry said, glass raised.

Harpis nodded his appreciation of the captain’s toast and met the eyes of each man for a moment. “Until next time, gentlemen.”

*****

His morning prayer and greeting to Daybreak complete, Hameki made his way down the spire and dome and straight for the front doors of his institution. With Vicar Ezera in tow, they went outside to greet the militiamen who patrolled outside.

Captain Elliswerth had made sure to keep men constantly posted at the institution for added security since Tuath had attacked.

He held up a hand to halt the nearest group. “Excuse me,” the Exarch said to one of them. “I need to speak with Captain Elliswerth immediately.”

The men snapped to attention. “Of course, Exarch!”

Several moments later, when Captain Elliswerth eventually arrived and climbed to the top of the five-story structure, Ezera and the Exarch greeted his labored breaths with a smile.

“How may I help you, Exarch? My man made it sound quite urgent.”

Hameki faced west and took a moment to survey the expanse of the Mer peninsula below them. “Captain, we live in troubling times, and I fear that if we do nothing, then all people will suffer. I have returned from a meeting with some who will be able to liberate our city with little bloodshed. However, for them to be successful, I am afraid that it will require you and your men to play a part.”

Elliswerth straightened, and when he spoke next, there was resolve in his voice. “My men will fight to a one to shed this city of our current oppression if that is what is necessary, Exarch!”

Hameki sighed and shook his head. “What we need is for your men to be sure that they do nothing and let the column of dwarves that will approach from the south and west later this day pass uninterrupted through our gates.”

The captain looked quite perplexed, and he stared at the Exarch as if the older man himself had just turned into a dwarf in front of him.

“Why would a column of dwarves be marching to our gates, and why are we letting them through?”

Ezera grew impatient and answered for the older man. “They are coming to relieve us of the Tuath militiamen and sailors on the brigantines in our harbor. First, they will demolish our docks so that the thousands of men aboard those brigantines cannot easily disembark and wreak havoc on our wharf. Then they will turn north for Tuath and make sure the northerners see it so that they may draw them out of our waters. This way the whole thing looks like dwarven aggression against Tuath and not insurrection from Mer.”

The captain nodded slowly in understanding. “With the docks destroyed, we can easily defend ourselves at the harbor if necessary. Do we then send our militia north to follow the dwarves?”

This time the Exarch spoke for himself. “With no governor to lead us, we cannot send the militiamen of Mer anywhere. There may yet be a need for a martial law captain, but I hope we have avoided it.”

*****

Uridyll sat at his desk, unable to concentrate since returning to the college. He had thought of warning the merchants of what was about to happen at the wharf and to the docks, but he did not trust they wouldn’t simply flee to preserve their interests.

There was a good chance that in warning them, many would depart all at once. Their actions would be suspicious and force them to be inspected and potentially interrogated by the Tuath ships out in the bay and responsible for tithing them as they came and went.

In frustration, he put down the book of enchantment he had been trying to read for distraction and almost knocked his leather flask of oil and striker off his desk.

An idea struck him as he stared at the objects. He and the Exarch had talked at length upon returning to the city from Fjall about needing to keep their respective institutions neutral in the coming conflict. This way, when things went back to normal, the people would still see them as unbiased institutions that worked for the benefit of all on the island and not one city-state or the other.

Still, though, the Exarch and his vicar did have a part to play. He expected that this very morning Hameki was doing as he had been asked in Fjall and was informing the city militiamen to stand down at the approach of the dwarves. He grabbed a lit candle and went to the ladder in the back of his quarters. He climbed it to the roof of his living space and office above the library below.

Placing the candle on the rooftop, he backed up a few paces and spoke words he had not spoken in years.

The tiny flame atop the candlewick danced and then grew and spiraled into a tornado of fire twice again as tall as a man. Then, the swirling tongues of flame slowly calmed and took the form of a giant owl. The clay tiles of the rooftop were charred black under the bird’s talons as it spread its wings and shook its head before staring at Uridyll.

The Arch Mage looked fondly at his elemental familiar. “It has been too long, my friend; I think today we may have some work to do.”