Chapter 3: The Council of the Guilds

Previously in Chapter 2: Dalan Hafid learned from his old friend, Gil Regalia, that the Centran forces appeared to be preparing for battle. According to her intelligence, the target was none other than his home country: Akhmet. Upon learning about this information, Murad presented it to Dey Jaffar Pasha, the leader of their country, only to find that the Dey already knew of the invasion, which interrupted his prior plans of Akhmet invading Centra. The Dey urged a reluctant Murad to prepare his forces for a conflict that could engulf the Centran Continent, Ala-Meida and even the surrounding regions...

Ch 3: The Council of the Guilds

The night had descended upon the Al-Mahid city of Akhmet, covering the sprawling sandy brown city in a blue black veil. The wind howled over the city and grains of sand and dust filled the air. At the rear entrance to the Dey’s palace, the bodies of three dead guards littered the walkway. Atop the decorative arches running the length and width of the Dey’s palace, a lone figure stood perfectly still, his long black overcoat fluttering ominously in the wind. The figure ran across the narrow walkways at the top of the arches until he was alongside the doors of the palace.
“What in Sharah’s name was all that noise? Are we under attack?” One of the guards standing at the front of the palace was saying to another.
“I’ll go around the right of the palace, you take the left,” His partner said, walking to the far end of the palace. Balanced precariously, the mysterious figure slung a large messenger bag from around his shoulder, balancing the bag on the narrow walkway on which he stood and removing something from it. He kneeled, resting a small rifle against his shoulder and bringing his head close to it, lining it up with the nearest guard. Moments later, a deafening bang split the air and the guard spasmed, slumping to the floor. The other guard started and drew his scimitar, looking around for the cause of the disturbance. He stared down at his fallen partner and stumbled backward, tripping over his feet. The figure in the overcoat returned the rifle to his messenger bag, slung it back over his shoulder and jumped off of the archway, landing on the soft sand below. Between him and the palace was a small artificial stream, which ran around the palace.
“Hey, y-you!” The other guard stuttered, wheeling about and looking straight at the figure in the overcoat. “S-Stop right there!”
“Let me in and I won’t kill you,” The mysterious figure stated casually as he leapt over the stream, his feet slapping the mud as he landed and walked slowly to the stairs leading up to the palace. At the top of the stairs, the guard faltered, perhaps remembering the swift manner in which his fellow guard had been dispatched and wondering whether he too would suffer the same fate.
“What are you, a Centran spy?” The guard asked, still standing at the top of the wide ascending staircase. The figure in the overcoat laughed.
“You ask too many questions. Perhaps you didn’t get a good enough look at me,” he said as he stepped around the corner of the stairs and into the moonlight, which revealed a male who was the height of an average sized Hume with neatly combed grey-white hair, long pointed ears and round spectacles which rested on the tip of his pointed nose. His voice was prim and proper, yet it had a clipped tone, as if he didn’t want to deal with petty interferences such as armed guards.
“...Elvaan?” The guard said, stepping back in amazement.
“Hmm,” The person responded, walking up the stairs toward the guard, his feet crunching on the sandy stone. “Good guess, but not quite. You know, I’d love to stay and talk, but it would be much appreciated if you would open those doors for me and let me into the palace. Not much time for chit-chat, and all,”
“I’ll shut you up then!” The guard said, charging at the mysterious person, who threw his overcoat back, revealing two holstered revolvers which he promptly drew and lined up with the guard. The sound of four shots echoed in the night air and the guard in front of him dropped to the floor. The person holstered his revolvers and stooped down next to the guard, removing the keys to the palace from his body.
“A pity,” He said as he walked up to unlock the palace doors. As he opened them, the cool air from the antechamber washed over his face. The moonlight filtered through the windows in the vaulted dome ceiling, covering the room in an eerie pale aureole. He walked quickly to the back of the room and through an open door, which led to a spiraling stone stairwell that led up to the second floor of the palace. Creeping up the stairs, he looked around for guards, but there were none to be seen. At the top of the stairs, he saw a pair of large lavish doors in the middle of the far wall, which belonged to the hall which led to the Dey’s chambers. He tread to them lightly and paused. Turning right, he walked down a hall, stopping at a small wooden door at the end of the hallway. He reached out and gripped the bronze doorknob, turning it once or twice, but the door seemed to be locked. The person unholstered one of his revolvers, placed the muzzle next to the doorknob and pulled the trigger. A loud bang echoed down the hallway as the knob dropped off of the door. He kicked the door in and came face to face with a sleepy eyed elf in a robe. He stood in front of an unmade bed, his eyes wide with fear who had his right hand stretched out in front of him.
“Your little game is over, K’tharh. I hope you had fun while it lasted,” He said, stepping forward into the room. His feet sank into a soft Akhmet rug as he slowly advanced on K’tharh..
“Who are you? How did you find me?” K’tharh said, wiping his bleary eyes with one arm, but keeping the other outstretched toward the strange intruder.
“It doesn’t matter. I know all about you. Some job you have.” The person laughed sarcastically. “The Dey’s military advisor. All you need to know is that you will die a swift death, as will your brother in Centra,” he said as he brought his revolver to bear and pulled the trigger. K’tharh rolled out of the way of the gunshot, a bright red glow enveloping his entire body. The strange man dove out of the way as a fist sized ball of flame leapt forth from the elf’s still outstretched hand. The ball of fire struck the floor where the mysterious person stood seconds ago, causing the rug to burst into flames. Sliding off the rug and onto the cold stone floor, his bag flying off of his shoulder, the stranger closed one eye and fired three shots from his pistol. One went wide, ricocheting off of the stone wall behind K’tharh with a resounding ping. The other two caught the elf on the upper left side of the chest. K'tharh slumped onto the bed behind him, sinking into the soft mattress. The man stood up cautiously, picked up his messenger bag which was lying nearby and stepped around the rug, which was still ablaze, to observe the wounded elf. In the light of the burning rug, the elf, whose light blue nightrobe was spattered with crimson blood, could see the mysterious man’s face. The man’s long ears and the right side of his face were blotched with penny-sized grey splotches. K’tharh took a rattling breath and managed one word.
“Grey…kein…” The mysterious man shook his head sadly.
“My people have nothing to do with this. It’s just you and me,” He said.
“You… You're the father of…” K’tharh was interrupted by a racking cough. Blood sprayed out of his mouth and he grunted in pain.
“Hah, so you Elvaan do know about me. I would rather that no one did, if you ask me,” The stranger replied.
“It… It’s too late… The Elvaan can feel the winds of life… My brother will know that I died,” K’tharh replied, spasming suddenly. A trickle of blood ran from his lips, dribbling down his chin and staining the white bedsheets.
“Oh, well then, he shouldn’t worry too much,” the man said, smiling grimly. “He’ll be joining you very soon,” The man pressed the muzzle of the revolver to K’tharh’s forehead and pulled the trigger.

. . .

Dalan was jolted out of his sleep by three loud knocks on his inn room door.
“Who is it?” Dalan asked, sitting up in the soft fluffy bed and rubbing his eyes. The dark outlines of a worn leather couch by the window and a potted green cactus coming into focus as he shook his head to ward off his grogginess.
“It's Murad,” A voice replied from the other side of the door. “Get down to the lobby. We have some work to do.” Dalan groaned before pulling back the covers and jumping out of bed. He pulled a pair of denim pants and boots on and grabbed a white short sleeved shirt, throwing it over his head. He walked into the dark torch lit stone-tiled bathroom and turned on the faucet, splashing cold water onto his face and smoothing back his hair. What could Murad possibly want? Its morning and I am definitely not a morning person. Dalan laughed at his own thoughts. Not a morning person. All these years of peace must have made me soft. Dalan walked over to the door and took his brown leather jacket off of the coat hanger on the door, out into the hallway. There was a window at the far end of the hallway and Dalan could see that the sun was barely peeking over the city walls. He shambled down the hall and down a flight of stairs into the lobby, which was lit by the soft light of torches in wall sconces and was decorated in hues of light sandy brown. A few couches and chairs were positioned near the windows at the front of the building and a long marble stone desk, behind which the innkeeper and his wife stood, lined the back of the room. The walls were adorned by complex paintings and portraits, which Dalan could catch glimpses of in the flickering light of the sconces
“Good morning,” The innkeeper said. “Guilder Ibrahim is waiting for you in one of the dining rooms. My wife will show you the way,” The innkeeper’s wife stepped around from behind the desk and signaled for Dalan to follow her to a door at the far end of the lobby.
“Thanks,” Dalan said as she opened the door. He walked into a small room which was filled with boxes and supplies for the inn. In the middle of the room sat a large circular table, around which Lourrdes, Murad and Mustafa sat, devouring plates of mudammes, a type of boiled bean, and flatbread with sweetcream. There was a plate which Dalan assumed was his at the far left corner of the table, a steaming cup of cinnamon rize tea sitting next to the spicy smelling food. Dalan sat down and turned to Murad.
“Why in Sharah’s name did you wake me up at sunrise?” Dalan said, rubbing his eyes, then picking up a piece of flatbread and taking a bite.
“Sorry, but this was urgent,” Murad replied, putting down a piece of bread covered in mudammes. “Last night, someone broke into the Dey’s palace,”
“What?” Dalan started. Surprise is an all too familiar emotion these days he thought to himself. “Did he attempt to assassinate the Dey?”
“No. He broke into the palace, killing eight guards on the way in and apparently assassinated the Dey’s military advisor, a young elf named K’tharh. The guards in the Dey’s lounging chamber heard the commotion in K’tharh’s room and came to help, but it was too late. He killed three of them, and then escaped. K’tharh was found dead on his bed.”
“He killed eight members of the royal guard and an elf?” Dalan said incredulously. “Only some of the finest swordsmen in Al-Mahid are even considered to protect the Dey and most Elves are at least competent magick users. Was this man a magick affine or something?”
“According to the survivors, they did not see him use any magicks. They did say that he had two strange weapons that produced ‘killing fire’ from holes at their tips,” Murad replied. “It seemed that most of the guards were caught unawares and had little time to react,”
“Killing fire. Never heard of anything like that,” Dalan replied thoughtfully. “What did he look like? Was he Centran? Al-Mahidi? Elvaan? Half Elf?”
“Common description was that he was an Elvaan male, tall for an elf, about as tall as an average Hume in fact. He had grey hair and wore glasses,” Murad replied.
“Old or young?” Dalan asked.
“How could an old man have pulled off a stunt like that?” Murad replied, taking a sip of his tea and wrinkling his face in disgust. “Lukewarm,” he stated as he poured hot tea into his teacup. “Although he did have grey hair. That is an interesting question,” Murad paused and looked up thoughtfully. “I think that it could be Guilder Artemis Loross’i. He is a young Half Elf with grey-white hair who is currently on his Zmarrd’k, the period of wandering for young Elvaan where they learn to master their emotions, or something to that effect. He took his Zmarrd’k here in Hume territory and became leader of the Magicians’ Guild. As High Guilder Regalia told me when we met, he disappeared briefly after attack preparations began taking place in Centra. I would be willing to bet a large purse of gold that he is our target.”
“Well, first of all, we don’t know what these weapons that make ‘killing fire’ are capable of. He may have just been well armed. Also, we know very little about the Elvaan, since very few Humes have been any farther into Elvaan territory than Amaurea and even fewer have made a return journey. Elvaan bodies may not age in the same way that ours do. We already know that they live much longer. I did live in Amaurea for five years, but I mostly lived amongst half-elves, so I dont even know how an active life can wear on their bodies. At any rate, we do not know enough to make the assumption of age,” Dalan mused. “As for it being Guilder Loross’i, he is the leader of the magicians’ guild. Don’t you think he would have used magicks in order to aid his escape?”
“Unless 'is goal was expressly not ter be identified as Guilder Loross'i." Lourrdes piped in. “Question is, If this killer is 'n Elvaan, then why would ‘e have to come all the way ter Akhmet ter kill one of his kind, much less the military advisor of this country. Don’ tell me we’re lookin' at an Elvaan invasion too!” Lourrdes said, a look of annoyed resignation on his face. Mustafa threw his saucer-sized hands up in admitted confusion. Murad nodded.
“I’m with Mustafa,” Murad said. “I really see no reason that the Elvaan would do such a thing. Besides, the whole of the Centran Empire stands between them and Al-Mahid. I don’t think the Centrans would fancy the Elvaan marching an army through their territory. Perhaps the Elvaan are somehow involved in all of this. Perhaps the killer was a vagabond banished from his country who was hired by Centra as an assassin as a gambit in the war effort. Either way, we have to be cautious, but we certainly don’t have enough information to make plans for this. What really baffles me is the fact that he made no attempt to be discreet whatsoever. He kills eight men, leaving the bodies outside and doesn't even seem to mind that nine palace guards saw his face, clearly or not, it doesn't matter. At any rate, by the end of the day, every bounty hunter, mercenary, pirate and small time chancer will be looking for this assassin. The Dey is so angry that you wouldn’t believe it,”
“Price on his head?” Dalan asked, though it was more of a statement than a question.
“Ten million gold to bring him in alive for interrogation,” Murad replied. “Placed by the Dey himself to find out who is behind all of this.”
“Almost enough to retire on if you play your cards right,” Dalan laughed. “How would he know if the bounty hunter got the right person?” Murad frowned.
“I'm sure you have heard about Akhmet's interrogation methods. More likely than not, they will reveal who they are,” Murad stated, shaking his head. Dalan continued. “So did you just call me down here to tell me about this bounty?”
“That’s only part of it,” Murad said. “Mustafa was hired to escort a mercantile caravan going east to Seul, the land of the Yin-Sung, today. There is a meeting of the council of the guilds later today and since you are probably the fourth most accomplished fighter in the Border Mercenaries, I was hoping you could accompany Lourrdes and me as my second bodyguard.”
“Well… I guess I don’t have much else to do. Where is the council meeting going to be?”
“Seul,” Murad replied.
“I would ask if Mustafa could meet you there, but I’m not feeling very witty at the moment,” Dalan said smiling.
“Hah!” Murad responded. “If there were a porter that could open a port large enough to transport a large caravan all the way to Seul, then not only could Mustafa make the journey in time to accompany me to the meeting, the caravan wouldn’t need him at all.”
“Isn’t it a bit dangerous for so many of the Guilders to port into a public area? Perfect for assassins to pick off whomever they please.” Dalan replied.
“Very perceptive,” Murad replied. “The representatives of the Church of Archos provide the porting service for all guilders. They usually port us right to the site of the meeting, which is secured so there is very little threat. Anyways, the porter should be arriving at Auction Square at noon. Are you in, Dal?”
“Sure, why not?” Dalan shrugged. “I just want to make sense of this mess.”

. . .
,
Dalan, Murad and Lourrdes elbowed their way through the large crowd gathered in the sandy streets of Auction Square. An auctioneer stood on a small box, holding up what appeared to be a precious gem and members of the crowd shouted out their bids. Murad pushed his way to the side of the road. As soon as they emerged from the crowd, a tall blonde haired Hume with peaceful light blue eyes walked over to greet them.
“Guilder Ibrahim,” The tall man said, nodding. “Do you have your Guilders’ Mark with you? Sorry, but you know I have to follow protocol,”
“Quite alright,” Murad said, removing a gold necklace from around his neck. Upon it was a small thin circular pendant with a small wedge of gold extending from the boundary to the center of the circle. The man nodded in approval. “Deacon Augustus. How are you?” Murad said, shaking the man’s hand. It was almost comical to see the short, but graceful Murad alongside Deacon Augustus’ tall, lanky stature.
“As well as I can be under the circumstances. The Church of Archos wants to spread peace and the word of our Lord across the land, yet we follow the orders of our Patriarch. As you know, whatever he says is absolute. Stand back, let me make a port,” The Deacon pursed his lips, then closed his eyes and held his hands out in front of him. "Feynum!" He shouted. A tall white pillar of light appeared in front of him. “This is it, lets go,” He said as he stepped forward into the portal. Dalan, Murad and Lourrdes followed close behind.

. . .

The bright white light characteristic of portal traveling cleared from Dalan’s eyes and he looked around at his surroundings. He was standing in a wide grassy field at the peak of a hill. In front of him was a sprawling red pagoda which, though only one story tall, occupied the majority of the hillside. From the vantage point that the hill afforded, Dalan could see a quaint city composed of pagodas and straw huts of various colors, many with clothes hanging to dry on strings suspended between to stakes. Outside of the city, wall, more pagodas dotted the rolling grassy hills, which were covered by patches of dense forest. A waterfall crashed and gurgled down the side of the hill, a bridge leading over it to the hilltop where the large pagoda stood. People below milled around and attended to their plots of farmland or walked up to crude tents which merchants had pitched near the farmlands, presumably to sell water-chilled juice and fruit to the hard working farmers. The breeze that blew across Dalan’s face was brisk, unlike the hot dry air of Al-Mahid and carried the spicy scents of the forest which surrounded the city nestled in the clearing.
“So, whose house is that?” Dalan asked as they walked up to the large pagoda. Deacon Augustus had already disappeared, presumably to retrieve more guilders for the meeting.
“Guilder Hong, Jeong Min Hong to be exact. Leader of the Hunters’ Guild. As you can see, they make a small fortune selling game to the butchers, both locally and in Al-Mahid,” Murad said, walking to the door.
“Where are the other guilders?” Dalan asked.
“Prob’bly inside,” Lourrdes replied. “They usually port one or two guilders an’ their bodyguards ‘ere at a time ter get rid of the risk of joining. Nasty bus'ness, getting' stuck inter anotha person, or a tree,” Dalan nodded. As they approached the door, a short Hume male attendant with closely cut black hair who was wearing brown robes and sandals held it open. Dalan noticed an elm wood bow slung over the attendant’s back. With all the precautions they take around here, you’d think it would be crazy to attempt to assassinate any of the guilders. “Guilder Ibrahim, welcome back. Your mark please?” Murad smiled and showed his necklace to the young man who nodded. “Please take your shoes off. Right this way,” the young man said as he led them down a beige carpeted corridor, through a long antechamber adorned with gold encrusted dark wood pillars and into a tiled room which contained a pool of water and the petals of many different kinds of flowers and herbs floating within. The attendant turned to Dalan, Murad and Lourrdes. “These are Guilder Hong’s baths. The water is fresh mineral water that flows from a nearby underground hot spring. There are mens’ and womens’ baths for the use of the guilders and their attendants after the proceedings.”
“Did you just call me an attendant?” Dalan asked. The young man blushed and Dalan laughed.
“Don’t pay any attention to Dalan here. He likes messing around with people,” Murad said.
“I’m not messing around, I’m serious,” Dalan protested.
“Quiet, attendant,” Murad replied, grinning from ear to ear. The attendant turned and continued to lead them through the room and into another hallway, which branched to the left and right. In the middle of the hallway, there was large wooden weapons rack with various swords, bows and knives resting up against it. Two tall, imposing men in the same brown robes as the diminutive attendant, stood guarding the weapons, bows at the ready in their hands, quivers of arrows on their backs.
“I will have to remove your weapons before you enter the meeting room,” The young attendant stated. He walked over to Murad first, on whom he found only a scimitar, which he put in the weapons rack. Next, he searched Lourrdes and with great difficulty, lifted his longsword into the rack as well. The attendant then removed Dalan’s crossbow, knife and sword and looked at him in astonishment. “How many weapons do you use?”
“You can never be too cautious,” Dalan shrugged. “So where is this meeting?”
“Right this way,” The attendant replied as he led them to a room at the end of the right hallway. The room was somewhat large, yet it was still packed with people and bustling with activity. A long table filled the center of the room around which fourteen chairs were placed, four of which were empty. At each seat, there were glasses and at the center of the table sat three large pitchers of water with menthe leaves floating on the surface. The various guilders and representatives sat at the table, their bodyguards and assistants standing behind their chair. Gil Regalia, who sat at the head of the table, due to her position as High Guilder, nodded at Dalan and Murad. Four swarthy male body guards stood around her, stony faced and indifferent. Murad took one of the empty chairs and Dalan and Lourrdes stood directly behind him. A crouched elderly Gabradian woman hobbled slowly into the room, assisted by a tall redheaded young man in magicians’ robes who helped her into one of the chairs on the side of the table opposite Dalan. Murad nudged Dalan, pointing at the elderly lady.
“That’s Guilder Mildred. Runs a school for highly talented affines who have graduated from Guilder Loross’i’s School of Essential Magicks in Gabradia. She was the one who organized the Gabradian rebellion forces and led them in the Centran civil war about a hundred years ago,” Murad said.
“Never thought I'd see her. In all of my trips to Gabradia, I haven't met her strolling the streets. Her school is in that tower at the center of the city, right? Is it true that she is the most accomplished magician in all of Hume territory?” Dalan asked.
“So they say,” Murad replied, still looking up at her. “Though she certainly doesn’t look the part. The guy with red hair, her attendant, is supposed to be an insanely strong magick affine. Just graduated from Guilder Loross’i’s magick academy and he is already Guilder Mildred’s attendant and apprentice. He will probably succeed her as guilder.” There were at least thirty five people in the room and many of the bodyguards stood shoulder to shoulder. Gil looked around and her eyes met with Guilder Hong’s. She took a sip of water and stood up with an air of confidence that caused the conversation in the room to immediately fall from its deafening roar to a dead silence.
“As High Guilder of the council, I call this meeting to order,” Gil said, her voice loud and clear, carrying across the room. “We begin this meeting in the spirit of all past guilders. As always, I hope that this meeting is conducted with the same goals as the first guilders, to find economic and social balance outside of the seat of the states’ power. First, let us give our host, Guilder Hong, thanks for lending us his home and his time.” There was a small round of polite applause from around the room. “The reason this council has been convened,” Gil continued. “Is the possibility of a war between the Centran Empire and the nation of Al-Mahid.” Dalan looked about the room at the guilders, many of who were murmuring to each other in surprise. Many of those from Centra whispered conspiratorially. The representatives of the Church of Archos remained quiet, looking almost embarrassed Farther down the table, Dalan spotted the guilder Asad Bah’rati, the assassin, who was completely silent. “The first issue is the question of what effects a war would have on the overall economies of our guilds and associations. Due to the fact that I represent both the Blacksmiths’ and Mercantile Associations, I suppose I shall speak first. The blacksmiths and Mercantile associations are benefited by going to war, under certain conditions of course. Since Gabradia is neutral, they would sell arms and provisions to both countries. The truth is, however, that the only way that either guild would support such a war is if no trade embargoes are to be imposed by any of the parties that choose to join the conflict. Both the mercantile and blacksmiths’ associations would then have free reign as well as benefits to trade. Needless to say, the side of the conflict that offered us the most would receive the best service. However, as for personal concerns about the war, I don’t like it. If Centra becomes an unparalleled military power once more, my home nation of Gabradia is in danger of recapture.” Gil pointedly looked over at Guilder Mildred, who had fought a hundred years ago in the Gabradian resistance. The elderly lady seemed to take the hint. Gil then turned to Guilder Hong. “This nation of Seul may itself be in danger. The Centrans captured the Kyu Peninsula for a favorable trade position. What makes you think they will not go as far as taking the rest of your country? It is rich in lumber and resources, after all. Profit isn't all that we have to be worried about. Should war be initiated, this may be the bloodiest war in centuries,” Dalan noticed that many of the guilders from Centra had turned to each other and were speaking silently.
“What do you think?” Dalan asked Murad quietly.
“Well, I’m not very gung ho about going to war, myself. Business is fine right now with bounties and all. We just got out of the Jaza Border Dispute. I’m no economist, but I don’t think Al-Mahid could withstand another devastating war and trust me, a war against Centra will be devastating for both sides.” Murad whispered to Dalan. Guilder Mildred, raised her hand.
“Guilder Mildred?” Gil nodded at the guilder, giving her permission to speak.
“Sir George, Sir Tad,” The weather-worn Mildred said, looking at two Centran Guilders, her voice strong and unwavering despite her wrinkled bent frame. “Gabradia cannot take the chance that the Centran Empire has once again taken up expansion as its main goal. I find it hard to believe that Al-Mahid would be willing to instigate war with Centra so soon after losing so many resources in the Jaza Border dispute. If Centra commences military action against Al-Mahid, they will find that I will do my best to rally my magick school to support the Al-Mahid cause.”
“Your help would be much appreciated, Guilder Mildred. In fact,” Murad said, looking at Gil for permission to speak. She nodded for him to continue. “We have solid evidence that Centra has been mobilizing their troops over the past few weeks to prepare for an invasion. The intelligence that we have indicates that the only logical target is Akhmet,” Murad glared across the table at the two well built Centran men across the table from him who glared back at him with the condescending air of noblemen. The surprised muttering that followed Murad’s comment rose to a crescendo of whispers.
“Silence!” Gil shouted. “Sir Tad, Sir George, Guilder Aramis. Do you have anything to say about this?” The man who Gil indicated as Sir George, a muscular man wearing ceremonial armor, stood up.
“We raised a standing army simply because of the assassin scum working for Akhmet. Several of our knights who patrolled the border between Centra and Al-Mahid were found dead. The disgusting person who killed them stacked the bodies of the dead at the border. Who would stand to gain anything from this aside from Al-Mahid?” Murad looked stunned.
“Don’t make threats. It would be… unfortunate if you never got to see tomorrow,” A dark skinned man in purple robes and a black turban stood up. Bah’rati Dalan thought. “The leader of our Royal guard reports similar killings. Who would stand anything to gain at all from such things? If your nation did it, that would be a foolish play. We would be wary and ready for an attack to be launched, as we are. If we did it, we’d be provoking your egotistical race to attack us.”
“You think there is a third party trying to start a war between us?” Sir George said, sneering. “Who would that be, the Yin-Sung?” He gestured at Guilder Hong, who winced and stood as well.
“You know that we don’t meddle in affairs outside our borders,” Guilder Hong said calmly. “We aren’t bloodthirsty like the rest of you,”
“I say we find out who this third party is and deal with them before they get out of hand.” Guilder Aramis, head of the Swordfighters’ guild in Centra said, standing up. “Assuming there is a third party. I stand against whoever started the war, whether it be Al-Mahid or my own country. Justice doesn’t declare loyalties,”
“Burns,” Dalan said. Everyone in the room turned and looked at him in silence. I guess the other bodyguards and attendants just sit around and twiddle their thumbs. He thought. He continued “I remember Mura… Err, Guilder Ibrahim telling me that the soldiers who were killed suffered burns of some sort. Is that right?” Murad nodded cautiously.
“Yes, they suffered severe burns. What are you getting at Dal?” Murad said, pouring water from one of the pitchers on the table. He nervously picked a menthe leaf out of his glass before he raised it to his mouth to take a drink. Don’t worry boss, I’m not about to embarrass you. Dalan thought.
“Were these burns over large portions of the bodies or smaller?”
“A few of the guards seemed as if their clothing had gone aflame, but many of them had local burns or holes burned into their garments,” Murad replied.
“I see what the young man is getting at,” Guilder Muriel snapped. “It seems as though the burns were caused by magicks. It seems as though Centra and Akhmet would both rather torch the bodies than to sift through corpses and specifically burn small parts of each.”
“Exactly,” Dalan continued. “Al-Mahid does make use of burning arrows, but there were no arrow entry wounds and again, the burns were local. No Al-Mahidi weapon that I know of can cause that sort of damage. Use of magicks in Al-Mahid is punishable by death and Centra has many healing magick affines, but a vanishing number who use destructive magicks. So it is unlikely that either performed these acts. In my travels, I have also seen magi receive such burns on a smaller scale after improper use of fire or lightning magicks. The question is which faction of magick users? Are they renegades? What is their angle?”
“I would say it was Guilder Muriel’s students, but the stubborn Gabradian wench would be too proud to hide it.” Sir George, captain of the Centran Chivalry jeered. Guilder Muriel shot him a glare that could melt ice, perhaps literally if it were accompanied by the proper incantation. Sir George, however, paid it no mind and continued. “The reports of the killings on both sides correspond with the time frame of Guilder Loross’i’s disappearance.”
“Hmm…” Murad said, looking at the wood paneled ceiling thoughtfully. “We also have reports of someone who looked like a grey haired Elvaan male assassinating our military advisor. We thought that he may have worked for the Centrans, but the more I think about it, the more it seems to be an Elvaan conspiracy.”
“I doubt it. You say that Guilder Loross’i is a half-elf, but the person who assassinated our leader looked Elvaan. Does Guilder Loross’i have many Elvaan traits?” Dalan asked.
“Not really,” Guilder Muriel replied. “Looks like a short Hume of twenty years or so, aside from his grey hair.”
“I see. Also, the half-elves are a peace loving people.” Dalan continued. “They would go to war if threatened, but I can’t see them working together with the Elvaan Oligarchy on a war of subversion,” Dalan said.
“I think your bodyguard talks too much,” Sir George said, looking at Murad. Gil turned to look at the knight.
“Yet, if it weren’t for him, this meeting would still be mired in the usual economic bickering.” Gil replied. “Since Guilder Loross’i is a personal concern for all of us, I am offering a reward of fifty million gold to whoever succeeds in capturing him alive and bringing him before this council. I am sure that you all want answers and aside from the ever present assumption that one or more of us is withholding information, this is the only way that we will get them. I think its time for a recess. Guilder Hong was kind enough to have dinner prepared for us in his banquet hall. We will reconvene at sunset to finish this,” Gil stood up and turned to walk out of the room, which was becoming a flurry of movement as the guilders and their attendants milled around the room to perhaps glean some new information on the past few days’ happenings.
“Well, looks like the whole council is after Loross’i,” Lourrdes said.
“Yeah, too bad we need to dedicate most of our people, time and resources on preparations to defend our northern borders instead of looking for Guilder Loross’i. Not only would it be good for our pockets and reputation, but perhaps we could figure out what is really behind this unrest,”
“There is a way around this, Murad,” Dalan said nonchalantly.
“You haven’t had a bad idea yet tonight, Dalan. Carry on,” Murad stated, a look of curiosity on his face.
“Simple, I could go find Loross’i for you. If I hung around Akhmet, I’d either be bored until a treasure hunt or another interesting bounty came up or I’d get into another war or worse, more wartime politics,” Dalan said, sticking his finger in his mouth and pretending to gag.
“Dalan,” Murad sighed. “Artemis Loross’i is the head of a magick school and an excellent magician. We don’t even know the full extent of his powers or his training. I don’t know if you would even stand a chance alone.”
“Not alone,” Dalan replied. “I think that its time that we gave Tobias a shot at a real job,”
“Tobias?” Murad laughed. “He is barely nineteen. How will he be of any use in the field?”
“You know as well as I do that he is one of the most resourceful members of the Border Mercenaries. All he lacks is skill in hand to hand combat, which comes from field experience anyway.” Dalan replied.
“So you trust the kid, huh?” Murad asked.
"He's gotta do it sometime,” Dalan replied, thinking the proposition of the hunt over. “Besides, its good money. My unit in the Jaza Border Dispute did reconnaissance missions, so I’m somewhat prepared for this. We weren’t as well trained as you officers were, but I still have some experience,”
“And where are you going to start looking?” Murad asked.
“Centra City, the capital of the Empire,” Dalan quickly replied.
“Why?” Murad looked puzzled. Because Artemis studied military tactics. A war is about to break out and if he isn't helping Akhmet, there is one other place he could be. Not only that, but Dar told me to look out for his son if things got ugly. I always keep my promises. Dalan thought.
“Just a hunch,” Dalan said, flashing a roguish grin. “After the meeting, I’ll go back to headquarters with you to inform Tobias. Hopefully we’ll be able to get underway tomorrow afternoon.”
“Yeah, well just take care of the kid,” Murad said. “I’m going to eat. Want to join me?”
“Not hungry just yet. I think I’m going to check out one of those hot spring baths that Guilder Hong keeps around. See if I can get a massage from one of his prettier attendants while I’m at it,”
“Sorry, I don’t do massages,” Lourrdes replied, smiling.
“That is… disturbing. I’ll just pretend you didn’t say that,” Murad said as he turned and walked out of the room.