Quinn Forsythe sat silent and motionless in the coach and was pleased to find the mercenaries did the same for the entire ride to whatever earl he was being forced to visit. He didn't feel like fighting to avoid answering any questions they may have for him, knowing he was undoubtedly going to face questions from this earl. What earl was he supposed to be visiting anyway? He hadn't recognized the name provided at the tavern. Quinn observed the mercenaries' cloaks and recognized the crest of the Earl of Rivas clipped on their left shoulders, which at first made no sense until he quickly recalled that Earl Rajashekar had two full-blooded sons. Quinn rolled his eyes.
"He wishes for me to avenge him, doesn't he?" The mercenaries only stared at him blankly and he heaved a heavy sigh. "Savages."
Quinn was not afraid of the fresh ea
Captain Fadi and Quinn Forsythe stood in the shimmering temple and observed Ravan as he lay frozen in the mahogany casket. The amount of ice in which was Ravan was trapped filled the box to the brim and it appeared escape was hopeless."Is he dead?" the captain asked. "I thought you wanted him alive.""He's asleep," Quinn explained. "Fetch your men to put him in my wagon."Captain Fadi's team carried the cold and heavy casket out of the temple and secured it to the back of Quinn's wagon while Quinn and the captain casually followed behind."So you'll be headed back to Duraland after your delivery, I assume?" the captain asked."Doubtful," said Quinn. "First sun
When Ravan disembarked in Preshire in the Bonn Empire, all he could think to do first was to find lodging and then hole up in what appeared to be the most popular tavern in the area. There, he would spend the next few days reading pamphlets and educating himself on Bonn culture, recent events, and current politics. The following month was arguably the most uneventful, aggravating, and uninformative month of Ravan’s life. He had even hired a few people to obtain information on Captain Fadi, but he didn’t hear back from any of them for what felt like an eternity. Ravan’s luck changed while he sat at his usual corner beside a grimy window in his new favorite musty tavern. One of the scouts rushed in while he read over the day’s pamphlet and sat across from Ravan at the sticky wooden table. Ravan set the pamphlet down with a sigh. “I really hope you have some news for me this time,” Ravan moaned. He took a swig of his beer, fully expecting yet another round of usel
Ravan crossed the border into the People’s Empire about seven weeks after completing his mission of revenge, and four weeks after the first snowfall of winter. He arrived in Perry about a week after that. Perry was the closest town to the Armagnac Mountain Range. After having journeyed for so long, Ravan decided to take a day of rest, especially considering he didn’t know which mountain he needed to find anyway. He put himself up in Nomad Inn, located on top of Nomad Tavern, and purchased for himself a relaxing stein of beer to go with his goat meat and potatoes. He listened in on the conversations being had among the patrons and it wasn’t long before he learned that war was brewing among the three empires which had formed the United Empires. With any luck, he could quit the continent and avoid the corresponding territories before war took place. Once Ravan had finished his meal, he wiped his mouth and addressed the barkeep. “I’ve been told I can find an elf somewhere arou
During Ravan’s most time-consuming trek to the Opaline Mountain Range, Quinn Forsythe was but weeks behind. The dedicated bounty hunter located Mount Perry in a fairly timely manner after telling the townsfolk that his primary targets were miracle workers. He spotted the path left behind by Ravan and Zair where there was significantly less snow. Then he located the miracle worker’s lair to find it evident that someone who had once lived inside had vacated rather quickly. A myriad of possible situations and scenarios ran through Quinn’s mind, but none of them clicked. Ravan’s motivation and end game were still frustratingly lost on him. When Quinn emerged from the cave, he took note of what was left of the path and figured this was what he wanted to follow. Since the travelers were most likely slowed by a wagon to carry the belongings of whoever lived in that cave, chances were that Quinn would catch up. A few days into his journey, Quinn began to wonder if his targets were
Ravan arrived at the southern-most part of Bonn a couple weeks into the new year: the year 400. A new century promising a fresh start and a bright future, which was exactly what Ravan hoped to accomplish after leaving the Maja Forest. Once he was only miles away from the forest, he found it completely surrounded by a thick, dark fog, which made it difficult to determine whatever obstacle may lay beyond. He led his nameless horse around the forest-line, proceeding farther south for several hours, waiting for the fog to lift and watching for a section of forest where the fog was thinner in the slightest. This never seemed to happen however, and Ravan even began to wonder if this fog had grown thicker. Of course, he probably could’ve guessed that even with a powerful spell cast on the forest, there would be other protective measures placed to fend against outsiders. Soon, Ravan approached a gently-wooded area called Valley Shire where glowing green crystals stretched out from
Ravan and Rein spent most of the following month in Ravan’s room at Shire Inn studying the language of the Noelle Continent with books, quills, ink, and spare parchment paper. As promised, Rein learned quickly and provided Ravan with a little more information about the Silver Cloak at every milestone. Meanwhile, Ravan went out in search of Quinn Forsythe between lessons, determined to retrieve his journal and finish off his nemesis once and for all. Though he couldn’t understand how, he knew for certain it was Quinn who stole his journal, and with each passing day Ravan’s certainty in this matter grew more firm. As the end of the month grew near, Ravan felt he needed to take a new approach to his search. At this point, Quinn had to be searching for him as well. If Ravan were searching for himself, where would he look? Taverns and pubs. He hadn’t seen Quinn at the tavern beneath Shire Inn, so Ravan searched the other taverns and pubs in town. There was a decent number of ta
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
Ravan and Zair didn’t speak a word to each other as they followed the monks past the wraiths and vampires into the Temple. Once they were inside, they found themselves surrounded by a soft yellow light. Many varieties of bright pink flowers lined the archways and poured from the balconies like waterfalls. Here, the monks started to chant, and the ominous chorus echoed off the tall, stone walls as everyone traipsed across the petal-speckled floor. The moaning song didn’t end even after they had arrived at the bright white sanctuary. Ravan observed the shadows behind the marble statues and the koi ponds between the pillars, and he made sure that he and Zair kept some distance between them and the crowd. When it seemed all the monks were efficiently focused on their chant, feeling safe and secure, Ravan locked eyes with Zair and gave him a subtle nod. Zair tensed and waited.Right when the chorus hit a particularly high note, all the documents in the room erupted int
Screams, howls, and various screeching continued beyond the heavy Temple doors. Ravan stood there for a long moment, pressed against the door, feeling as though only he could keep it shut against the soul-hunting creatures beyond. He breathed a deep, stabilizing breath and slid down the door beside Zair on the floor, who was hyperventilating. “Steady your breathing, Zair,” said Ravan. “Before you lose consciousness.” “He’s dead,” said Zair. “Adrian’s dead! What am I going to do?” “We can still finish this mission.” Zair jumped to his feet. “No, you don’t understand! How do I face the Northern Council after thi
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
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
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
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
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.”
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
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