Quinn and Ravan parted ways the following day, almost in exactly opposite directions. Ravan directed his nixy toward the coast while Quinn led his nixy more inland in the direction of Crystalpeak, Duraland’s capitol. He gazed up at the palace which stood regal atop a snowy hill with its dome ice roofs, tall platinum spires, and back-drop of blue-tinted glaciers. As he patiently rode his nixy along the frosty streets out of Flurris, his mind seemed to recall on its own the years he had spent as Emperor Aldrich Stallard’s right-hand man almost three decades prior. Quinn had been his personal advisor, his loyal problem-solver, and he had worked so hard for so long to earn such a prestigious position. With his father’s aid, Quinn had become a squire at the unusual age of six while most began training in the ways of a centurion knight at the age of eight. Many Durlanians were under the impression that Quinn’s father was strict and pushy, but the fact was that Quinn had to convi
The morning after their jotnar palace break-in, Lozano had been up early and he had awakened Quinn and Declan when he had returned to the room from breakfast. Slowly they both rose from bed. “How’s your injury, Montresor?” Quinn asked. Declan observed his bandaged ankle. “It could probably use a redressing before we head off.” “I’ll take care of that for you,” Lozano offered. “No, I’m perfectly capable Ackerman,” Declan said waving him off. “Very well,” Lozano replied. “Well, I’ve already had breakfast. I think I’ll head to the market and restock on supplies for the road. Do either of you need anything while I’m th
It was two evenings before Quinn visited Traitor’s Cemetery when Ravan finally arrived at Icebreach, the last town in Duraland before one crossed the border into Vordan. His journey had been uneventful as Quinn had promised, though despite Quinn’s vast knowledge of Duraland being mostly correct, Ravan had run into some evidence that it was three decades outdated. There were six towns along the coast rather than five now, and the towns Quinn had forewarned him about appeared to be much improved since he had left the country. It would seem that the additional port town likely increased trade in the country, thereby aiding the general economy. However, one other change that must have happened within the last thirty years was that Icebreach appeared to be a struggling town, likely due to it being located so close to jotnar country. Quinn had mentioned to Ravan that he and his men had often used Icebrea
While Ravan watched from the ice cave in Vordan, Quinn allowed himself to be escorted to the Crystalpeak Palace and continued his cooperation all the way to the frozen throne room where Emperor Aldrich sat on his crystal throne. Nothing had changed here in thirty years. Quinn immediately recognized the frosted cathedral ceilings and ice-kissed windows. Tapestries displaying the crest of Duraland, the crest of the Imperial Family, and those of many important families of nobility lined the frosted walls, and three gaudy crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling Once Quinn had approached the throne, he bowed his head, but he didn’t kneel as the centurions did. Emperor Aldrich showed no reaction. He stood up from his throne and descended the icy steps. “Follow me, Forsythe.”
Ravan’s voyage to Morcaida was yet another long and uneventful one. He tried not to be ungrateful considering pirates often frequented these waters and he much preferred not to experience any unnecessary delays. After about two and a half months, Ravan figured that Quinn should’ve arrived back in Arderé, and he happily utilized his Silver Cloak to watch his unpleasant half-brother’s demise. Unfortunately, Ravan had forgotten that Morcaida was closer to Duraland than Arderé, and even though Quinn had departed before Ravan, the bounty hunter still had a way to go before he would arrive. So, Ravan tried to check up on Zair, but either he was still wearing his talisman, or he had already arrived in Le’ Kire. When Ravan found Farzaad’s life had changed little since he’d last saw his half-brother, he didn’t bother using the Silver Cloak for a few more weeks, and rather he endeavored to memorize the contents of his journal. He had studied his own scribbles well enough that he’d a
It took a couple days, but the captain eventually managed to round up his crew for the impromptu trip to Le’ Kire. All the while, Ravan made sure that Zair of Flor du Cyan and Adrian von Le’ Mille hadn’t left the country yet. No one offered the sailors any issues for leaving the island, so long as they weren’t headed to any of the neighboring islands or a country on Paradisius. Ravan found himself growing really sick of the sea though, and once he had officially memorized his entire journal, he verified Zair was still in the country, almost finished planning his mission with Adrian. They would be scheduling their departure soon. While this was good to know, it was less than entertaining. Upon finding himself with nothing more to occupy his mind, Ravan brought his attention back to Quinn Forsythe, who seemed to be in a bit of a rush. Ravan found him in his room at an inn frantically gathering loose pages of pa
The longboat which had been prepared for their departure was simple and inconspicuous so as not to draw any suspicion once they docked in Fyodor. Ravan tried to take comfort in the bright-side of being on another ship; that being he had no responsibilities or a need to constantly look over his shoulder. It was an opportunity to relax and complete his recovery from the plague. He took in much sun, drank plenty of mead and water, and ate heartily. Before long he felt his strength renew and he watched as the color returned to his skin. For a time, Ravan thought perhaps this voyage would be somewhat more tolerable with like-minded people on board, even with his distaste for Adrian, but one night Zair decided to get nosy. “So after infiltrating the Maja Forest and obtaining the Silver Cloak, you are now going after the Eye of Raida.” Ravan glanced up at Zair from his bowl of stew. The lanterns which swayed from the ceiling below deck cast just enough l
Ravan waited for the drunken elves to ride away from the inn before he rushed across the street and attempted to enter. The door was locked. Ravan knocked and waited, struggling to suppress his rising panic. “Curses, curses, curses…” Zair mumbled at his side. Ravan knocked again. “They’re not going to let us in,” said Zair. “Shut up!” Ravan snapped. He knocked again, harder this time. “Hello!” he called out. “Listen, we’re tenants here! Might someone let us in?” Zair shook his head and looked fearfully at Ravan. Frustrated, Ravan left the front door and peered around the corner for silver sentries before searching the second-story windows. “Which one’s ours?” Ravan asked. “How should I know?” Zair answered. Ravan made a guess based on his view of the street from their room in the inn, and he threw a rock at one of the windows. Zair gazed up, ho