Castle Dallas was a huge granite building that stood out in the desert like a patient vulture. Indeed, with it's black spires and gray-brown walls it looked very ominous and vulture-like. Even the guards at the gate and the people within seemed very vulture-like. Pothax and Larel had agreed this was the best place to travel to, being it one of the places where the wires for Mathex's telegraph went through. They could easily contact King Willium back in Athex and advise him of the situation. That was before they asked a barmaid about Lord Dallas and learned the real reason why everyone was wearing black.

The sobbing bar-maid turned away, wiping at her tears with her apron. Apparently Lord Dallas was well loved in his home, surmised Pothax. He frowned in concentration when he remembered Colnic nobles weren't well loved, the desert being a very harsh place to live, especially in the summer.

A puffy-looking merchant chuckled and waddled over to sit down across from Pothax and Larel. "I see ye've learned about his lordship, but that missy didn't tell ye the whole story, did she now?" He gestured at the poor barmaid.

"No sir," replied Pothax. He raised an eyebrow curiously. "Is there something else I should know?"

"Indeed lad. Ye've heard about Avolic, infact I'd go so far to say ye were there, judging by the soot on yer face!" He chuckled lightly. His face became severe. "But ye haven't heard about the Chertens, the Independents or the King Culprit?"

"No, we haven't," said Larel, leaning an elbow on the table.

"Well, there's been all these deaths in Athex, including an assassination attempt on King Willium, and everyone's pointing the finger at the Chertens. Then the Independent Cities have attacked already captured half of Colnic, though they're soon to start fighting amongst themselves. Then there's place's like here that the death of the King Culprit went pretty bad and a local bunch of bad guys have decided to take over and start up their own independent state."

Pothax fell out of his chair. "Whut?" he shouted. Larel jerked him back into his seat and glared at him with disapproval.

She turned to the merchant. "Could you explain what happened exactly?"

The merchant shook his head and stood up. "I'm afraid not, I wasn't here, but if ye listen closely ye can hear'em coming. If I were ye, I'd start heading for my room," he said, crossing the taproom and heading for the stairs.

Pothax stood and listened. The Doxon's senses were far more in tune then any regular person and he could easily hear the cries and shouts of what seemed to be an approaching mob. Could it be possible? Someone has proclaimed himself King of Dallas? He knew there was going to be chaos in the next week, but a castle ruled by a thief? Sure, he himself was an ambassador and a famous cutthroat, but this was getting to be too, too... weird.

The door burst open and several thugs charged in. The sobbing barmaid was still behind the bar, having been too distracted to notice what was happening around her. One of the men grabbed hold of her and pulled her roughly over the bar. He placed a dagger to her exposed throat.

"Everyone line up," shrieked a burly thug. "His Highness has set forth a new law! You are all slaves, and if one of you dare to try anything, we'll kill the bitch! And then we'll kill you and the person beside you!"

There was almost nothing Pothax hated more than slavery. He'd been sold into slavery when he was a child and it wasn't until the death of the old king of Colnic and the new Reign of Queen Elexenia had slavery been abolished. Or rather the old reign. Colnic no longer existed. Nevertheless, Pothax had felt the lash of his masters whip more than once as a child and knew what it felt like. The difference between him and Wynic was his brother had been beaten by his father, Pothax had been sold into slavery by his father and beaten by his master. It was very hard for him to stay still, and if it wasn't for his friends standing beside him, he would have already attacked.

Bren too knew what this felt like, having been beaten by his real father before Pothax adopted him. He too had to struggle, being beside his new father and Phiona which he had recently become infatuated with, though Phiona barely noticed him.

When nobody moved because they were still in a state of shock, the man holding the bar-maid shouted, "Line up!" He dug the edge of his blade into the girl's skin and a trickle of blood ran down her neck.

Swearing beneath his breath, Pothax took one step forward and got in line in front of Larel. It was the hardest thing he'd ever done. To know that he'd submitted to slavery, to have let Bren down, his friends and companions.

Carlo stared as Pothax got in line and watched dumbfounded as several others joined the cutthroat in the line up. There was more than enough warriors here to take those thugs, but they couldn't, not with that barmaid being threatened. As a Stornium he had never known slavery and was appalled by the idea. How could he submit? He could fake fainting, but that might place the barmaid into further danger if he couldn't keep up the facade. On the other hand, he thought, standing and heading to join the rest in the line, they might decide to kill us all?

He glanced at Brenda and winked, trying to look confident. He pulled a Stornium star from his belt, held it aloft for a bare second and threw it at the man threatening the barmaid. It slid easily into his neck, the poison quickly doing it's job before anyone realized what had happened. By the time the man had slid to the floor at the girl's feet, Carlo, Brenda and the rest of his companions had drawn their weapons and were advancing on the enemy.

The barmaid ran, screaming, across the room and hid behind Eluth's bulky form. He grinned somewhat and looked down at her. By the time he looked up, Pothax and Bren's poisoned daggers had finished off the rest of the thugs.

Carlo ran to the shuttered window and peeked outside. There were at least fifty more men out there, though they were busy shackling about two hundred others. "I don't think we want to go that way!" he said fearfully. "Out through the stables!" he said, grabbing Brenda's hand and leading the way.

Pothax took a quick glance out the door and had to agree. Even if they went that way and caused a fight between the thugs and the new slaves it would probably mean getting killed in a bloody massacre because nobody really knows who's an ally or a foe. Leaving the castle now was out of the question too, the gates would have been shut and locked securely. "We can't get out!" he shouted. "Let's hide on the roof! Nobody will find us up there!"

Larel nodded and headed up the stairway. Roreed followed, breaking in doors and telling the people within to head for the roof where they'd be safe. Larel was already planning out a strategy, the flat roof being an idea place to defend. Then they could travel across the castle, though in her mind, the fortress was closer to a large keep, or a very small fortified city. Then they could set up some kind of base where they could strike out and perhaps end this tyranny.

Pothax had other plans, but his way was the way an assassin would do it and not an experienced campaigner. He planned to find this 'Highness' and assassinate the bastard. In his mind this would put a stop to this madness, but that just meant another would take his place, and eventually another and another and so on. Frustrated, he realized this was a job for an experienced campaigner, like Larel. Of course, if they both worked independently they'd manage to frighten and put the enemies' forces into disarray. The constant lack of a leader and the increasing number of attacks from Larel's Marines would eventually cause the enemy to flee.

It was obvious to the companions that the news was a shock to everyone in the city, the response ranging from riots to quiet submission. Many of the thugs wore uniforms, suggesting that there had been many traitors amongst Lord Dallas' own men. The companions could hear the screams of people being slaughtered, beaten or raped, yet they could do nothing about it. Nothing that would make a difference.

Bren woke with a start and looked around quickly, forgetting momentarily where he was. He glanced wistfully at Phiona and shook his head. She wasn't the one who had screamed. He'd heard a lot of screaming today, more than he'd thought possible. He thanked the Lord their screams hadn't haunted his dreams, giving him nightmares like Roreed, who was twisting and turning in his bedroll beside him.

He stood up and looked around the flat rooftop of the inn and then at the clear night sky and the stars shining brilliantly. It got awfully cold in the desert at night, though in his mind it should have been almost as hot as day. He shivered involuntarily and wrapped his arms around himself, ignoring the pain of his sunburn.

He forced a smile as he thought of Eluth complaining about sunburns on his sunburn. It was good to keep his mind off what had happened today. He shivered again and began to get back into his bedroll.

Another scream shattered the still desert night.

Bren frowned and tried to remember something else to take his mind off the scream. but everytime he tried, he'd seem to hear it again in his mind. It continued to nag him until he finally stood and pulled on a thick woolen tunic Aunt Vicky had bought him. He pulled a dagger from his belt and swiftly slid down the side of the inn to the empty street below. If you wanted something done, you had to do it yourself.

He crept down the street, ready to bolt at the first sight of danger. None came and he eventually came to a two story building with an alchemy shop on the first floor and what looked to be someone's home on the second. He scaled the wall and looked in through the shuttered windows. He blinked his eyes to adjust to the firelight streaming through the shutters in splutters.

A man and a woman lay on a bed. Bren wasn't surprised, having had similar thoughts about Phiona, though not to the extent of tying her down. Again she screamed in pain and he heard the man mutter something about killing someone. The window was locked and Bren didn't bring his lock picking wires with him so he scaled down and entered the alchemy shop, looking for a stairway to the room above.

Bren couldn't read that good, but he knew from talking to Mathex what an acid was, especially one like hydrochloric acid, though Bren doubted he could spell it properly. He put the dagger back in his belt and lifted up the bottle gingerly. After all, he figured, it might come in handy. He made his way across the room to where there was the narrow stairs led up to the second floor.

He paused and looked directly beyond the stairs, to a shadowy figure huddled behind the stairs. Setting the jar down, Bren drew his dagger and came closer, his feet barely making a sound across the floor as he approached the figure. He relaxed when he saw the figure was smaller than he and tied up in a thick braid of rope. Apparently the brute upstairs preferred rope to shackles. Bren didn't really care about the man's preferences, he just cut the rope and shook the figure awake.

The figure woke suddenly, flailing around with a small cry. Bren covered the figure's mouth and shook his head. "Be very quiet!" he hissed. "Don't make a sound! Okay?" He released his hold and pulled the figure into the starlight so he could see what he had already guessed to be a her.

"Okay," came the timid reply.

"Stay here," he whispered. He backed away from the tear streaked girl, picked up the bottle of hydrochloric acid and started up the stairs. He was nearly to the top when the step beneath him creaked loudly. Bren swore they could have heard him coming up the stairway in far flung Evicoth, but no one noticed because the woman screamed again.

"Haven't you learned by now that no one's going to hear you and come to your rescue yet?" taunted a voice that wavered between deep and falsetto. Bren thought it sounded a bit like a donkey. "Or are you screaming for more," laughed the voice cruelly.

Bren opened the door and stood there for a moment, having forgotten how bright the firelight from the wood-stove was, and being momentarily blinded. He heard swearing as the man got to his feet, his voice getting really high-pitched that it sounded like a pig squealing.

Bren opened the jar and threw the contents into the man's face. His vision finally focused and he saw the man shrieking with terror as he rubbed at his deteriorating face. The skin seemed to pull right off his flesh wherever he rubbed, desperately trying to get the burning liquid off his face. Suddenly the man stopped and stared at his hands, watching the skin peeling off them. He screamed, ran past Bren and fell down the narrow stairway. The boy listened to his screams disappearing into the night.

He turned to face the woman and grinned sheepishly, his face blushing.

The woman returned his smile, though it was grim, and her bruised and tear covered face showed just how awful she felt. "As an... an alchemist, I'd-I'd say he's in...a lot of pain." She forced a smile.

Bren frowned. He knew he lived in a harsh world, but sometimes he wondered. He wondered what was the point of it all? He thought of the Colnic's almost barbarian culture and thought, "I'm not going to Hell, I've already been there."

Carlo grinned and rolled over languidly, stretching his arms cat-like. Brenda smiled and kissed the Stornium's forehead and pushed him back onto his side of the bedroll. "Time to get up dear," she grinned and wrapped her arms around him. Carlo yawned loudly, stretched again and bounced to his feet.

And nearly fell off the roof.

Brenda grabbed his leg and yanked him back from the edge. "You're lucky I keep watching out for you or you'd be dead by now, you klutz! How you became a sailor I'll never know!" She grinned and stood.

Carlo glanced around quickly making sure no one else was awake to see his naked lover. Bren and Pothax were missing, but other than that, everyone was still sleeping. Eluth was snoring. The Stornium smiled and kissed Brenda, his arms encircling her waist and his hands clutching her buttocks.

Brenda molded into his arms, pressing her breasts against his chest. She felt safe in Carlo's arms, despite his somewhat clumsy appearance. Carlo was also strangely dangerous looking, like he was a dreaded killer, a lunatic. A wild card she'd heard Pothax once comment about Carlo.

She herself had been trained as a killer. Waytorn had trained her as his bodyguard, giving her the best training anyone had ever known. From Cherten matadors to Kinian Knightschool to Kalarippayat to the Academy of Combat in Evicoth, she'd been trained to physically martial perfection. Kalarippayat was the deadliest, she could kill a man instantly with a single blow.

Carlo took a step back and admired her in the light of the rising sun. The light created a halo of light around her silhouette and he wondered briefly if she was an angel incarnate. "Mein Gott, du bist schon!" he swore in old Stornium.

Brenda smiled. "What's the common translation?"

"My God, you're beautiful!"

"Danke schon!" she thanked him. She heard Eluth's rhythmic breathing change and she snatched a kilt and a tunic from her pack, knowing her fellow marine would soon be awake and probably hungry. Eluth was always hungry.

Carlo pulled on a kilt and remembered his first encounter with Eluth and Roreed. They had been amongst those sent on the mission to capture the minotaur Kobalix. Eluth had been a colonel then and Roreed a brigadier, while Carlo had been a commodore. Eluth had always seemed somewhat shy yet competent, Roreed a strong leader and a damn good fighter. Now it seemed to Carlo that his comrades had changed subtly, Eluth was a slob and Roreed a tempersome yet extremely competent fighter. Perhaps it was because Roreed had a wife and children back in Stornium. Eluth apparently had some debtors and had no intention of going back to Stornium. Carlo, well, Carlo was happy right here beside Brenda and the sea would always be there until he got back.

Eluth's snoring stopped abruptly and he groaned. "Who's turn to make the breaking-the-fast meal?"

"Yours!" muttered Roreed with a snort.

"I don't think so! It's yours! Isn't that right Carlo?"

Carlo shook his head. "All I know is it's not my turn since I made it yesterday."

"Okay, we'll ask Larel then!" spat Eluth, he groaned as he sat up and looked across the roof to where Larel lay. "Hey, Larel! Who's turn to make breaking-the-fast?"

Larel grumbled beneath her bedroll. "Yours!" came the reply.

Roreed snickered. "You always have to ask, don't you? Don't you know by now that whoever asks is the one who has to make it?"

"Well, then it is your turn!" argued Eluth.

"Both of you do it!" shouted Larel. She grumbled something about smashing Eluth's and Roreed's heads together and seeing if the two of them actually could make a full brain instead of two half wits. She snorted that the left side of the brain would probably argue with the right side and vice-versa.

Carlo looked around the roof and nudged Brenda. "Where's Pothax and Bren?" he asked.

His 'Highness' wasn't exactly correct as Pothax found out. He ducked as one of their Highnesses walked by the window he was crouched behind. King Hyatt and Queen Sinead were arguing over yesterdays new slavery law.

"Well, I can't reverse the law, you know!" argued Hyatt. "I've already given out the law and it's been carried through. If I let the slaves free, they'll kill me!"

"Oh, shut up!" Sinead snapped. "You and I know that you were just trying to get back at them for putting you in the colosseum back when you were a slave! Why not just lock up all the old slave lords and have them tortured? No need to enslave everyone else!"

"Oh, all right, I'll give the order to search the slaves for former slave-masters. Okay?"

"Okay, but check with me next time you decide to make any new laws."

"Yes, your Highness."

"Thank you, your Highness."

Pothax heard the two laugh heartily and decided that perhaps he should let things go its course, for the moment. After all, who says these people wouldn't make fine rulers, despite the fact that they were quite enjoying calling each other 'Highness'. Pothax rather liked the idea.

Larel crossed her arms across her breasts and glared at Pothax and Bren. "First of all, you should have told me before either of you went off on your own. Second of all, you Pothax were supposed to be standing watch. Third of all, you can't just go around assassinating anyone you feel like. Fourth of all, you Bren, should know better than to bring others here. You could have been spotted and followed, and then we'd all be in chains right now. What do you two have to say for yourselves."

Pothax scratched his chin and crossed his arms across his chest. "First of all, I'm not one of your marines that you can order around. Second of all, I don't plan on becoming a marine if my commander is like this. Third of all, I didn't assassinate anyone tonight and I don't plan on killing either King Hyatt or Queen Sinead. I happen to like them. Fourth of all, I don't like you bossing my son around when he did absolutely nothing wrong. I taught him to scout out the perimeter before moving into an occupied area."

Bren nodded. "I'd have to be a complete fool to lead someone here without checking first. I only saw one fella and he was dead drunk!"

"And what about those you didn't see? The ones that might be watching you?"

"I backtracked several times, I would have seen them."

"And if they saw you coming? Wouldn't they hide?"

Pothax shook his head. "Larel, let it rest. He did better than any of your marines would have done. Since we haven't been attacked yet today, I'd say we're pretty safe." He smiled at Bren proudly. "In addition, I was able to sneak in and send a message to King Willium using that code of Mathex's. Whether they received it, I don't know."

"What was the message?" demanded Larel.

"Will-Colnic is no more-send army-chaos-Doxon," replied the ambassador. "I'd suggest that we leave Dallas and head for Athex. There's nothing we can do here." Besides, thought the cutthroat, I have to make sure my loot gets safely back to Athex.

"Maybe not," muttered Roreed. He pointed down into the street where there was sounds of more fighting. Pothax knew that the fighting had resumed but he didn't know why so he ran over to take a look.

Down in the street it was the slavers themselves that were fighting. It looked to be a struggle between two opposing powers, each vying for what looked like an empty throne. The reason why Pothax knew the Throne of Dallas was empty was that one of the men down below bore two heads on a pike-staff down below. King Hyatt and Queen Sinead's heads, to be precise.

"Does anyone know where the slaves are being kept?" demanded Pothax.

"The castle dungeons, where else?" replied Roreed.

"Very well. Larel, I think its time to give your marines some field practice. Invading the dungeons would be good practice, don't you think?"

There was thirty men guarding the main entrance to the castle dungeons. Phiona froze and began to wonder if she should continue. Pothax said they needed a distraction, but why her? Sure, running naked past the gate would certainly make quite a few of them give chase, but exactly how would they get away. Pothax said he, Bren and Dame Larel would be waiting around the corner to help her escape. But could she make it to the corner? Sure, she was a damn fast runner, but surely someone among the guards was faster still, plus they'd probably see her coming and cut her off before she could even get by them.

Phiona took a deep breath and peeked around the corner. The guards looked fairly sleepy and not too observant. Maybe they wouldn't notice her until she was almost around the corner? She exhaled, took another breath and ran.

Ran like she never ran before. Her sandled feet thumped loudly against the cobbled granite street as she pumped her legs up and down, trying to keep her eyes focused on the corner and not on the guards that were staring at her. Pothax said that probably about half of them would give chase. He was wrong.

She nearly panicked when almost all the guards stood and started running, angling to cut her off. She ran harder, her heart pounding in her chest like it was going to explode. One man attempted to tackle her but she dodged to the side and he slid to a stop with a curse. The next time she didn't manage to dodge and she felt the man's hands close around her waist.

There was a sharp twang from a crossbow and the man's hands slid free limply. "Thanks Larel," Phiona murmured. She ran on, the corner was only another couple steps away...

Another man managed to get his hands around her waist, dragging her to the ground. Phiona cried out with disspair, trying to fight him off with her hands and legs. The man stubbornly refused to let go.

Pothax stepped around the corner, punched the man and lifted the struggling girl over his shoulder. It wasn't until they were around the corner that she realized it was Pothax she was hitting and not one of the guards. "Keep struggling," he whispered. "They think I'm one of them."

Phiona nodded and continued to pound on Pothax's back as he disappeared into a second alleyway. A few yards behind Pothax she could see the guards running to catch up, though they did so at a more relaxed pace. Probably waiting their turn.

Suddenly there was a loud noise from up above and she glanced up to see a wheel barrel, a whole wheel barrel full of bricks flying down towards her. She screamed, thinking she was going to be squashed under the load of bricks. Pothax swerved into a different alley and the load of bricks landed where'd they'd been just a moment before. Several men had been killed, or at least knocked unconscious by the falling bricks.

Bren glanced over the wall from above and winked at her. Several other men, including that puffy-looking merchant that Pothax had talked to yesterday, grinned and waved. Phiona smiled and blew a thankful kiss to her rescuers.

Pothax stopped and set Phiona down on the granite cobbles. He drew his shortsword and went back to the pile of rubble to look over. Phiona followed cautiously. At the other end of the alley was a second pile of rubble, blocking the guards escape route. Even if the men trapped inside did get over either pile, they'd have to face either Pothax or one of Larel's crossbows, depending on which pile they went over. Plus there was the added factor that they couldn't stay where they were because of the small horde of people above who were throwing bricks and pieces of rubble at the guards.

With only eight guards left it was decided that Brenda would lead the attack, with Roreed and Carlo guarding her flanks and Eluth guarding their rear. Brenda's halberd, a typically brutal weapon in the hands of someone who knew how to use it properly however was what made the supreme difference. She quite literally chopped through the eight remaining guards without any real help whatsoever from her fellow marines.

Carlo watched as she engaged the first man, parrying his sword stroke with the axe blade and driving the handle of the halberd into his groin. He doubled over in agony and she promptly slit his throat with the axe blade. The next man lashed at her with a whip. It caught on the axe blade itself, but Brenda simple reversed the handle and smashed the spade-shaped barb on the other side into the man's chest like a logger swinging an axe. Carlo had always thought that barb to be purely decoration and he had to admit that if anything it was the more dangerous part of the weapon, because it plunged right through the man's ribs with an audible crack and the spade tip came out of his spine.

The next guard didn't attack Brenda but simply dropped his axe and fainted. He clearly couldn't handle the sight of blood, though Carlo had to admit he sometimes got pretty scared of just how much blood seemed to come out of one body. Next came a pair of two guards, each coming forth cautiously. Brenda swung at the one on her left and it looked like Carlo might actually get a chance to fight here except at the same time Brenda also shoved the base of the halberd into the ground and launched herself upwards like a high jumper at the Summerfest Championships. Her boots connected with the man on her right, driving her toes into his throat, seeking to collapse his windpipe. Once a man's windpipe collapsed he would suffocate on his own.

The man on her left stood there stunned and was still staring when Brenda ripped the base of her halberd out of the ground and smashed the handle into his forehead, shattering his skull and creating a crater where his forehead had been. He fell back into one of his comrade's arms as his eyes rolled upwards to seemingly stare at the hole in his head. The man behind him cried out in shock and turned towards Brenda, swinging his sword in a cruel arc towards her neck. Carlo looked away but was surprised when he heard a solid clang and looked up to see the man's sword imbedded in the axe blade of Brenda's halberd.

"Gott in Himmel!" swore Roreed in old Stornium. Everyone stopped and stared at the two weapons probably permanently locked together.

Brenda dropped the halberd and drove her fist into the man's neck, snapping it off to one side with a sharp crack. Only two men remained and these charged at her desperately, thinking her to be finally unarmed. Placing one foot on the fallen man's sword hilt and the other foot under the blade, she levered both sword and halberd into the air, and deftly caught the halberd's handle. The two men paused in their rush and looked from one another to the awkward looking sword and halberd stuck together.

The marine didn't give them time to think, and swung the weapon at the closest man. He raised his shield and blocked the sword blade, but he forgot to block the halberd's axe blade because the sword blade snapped and the axe drove into his side, breaking several ribs. He groaned weekly and stared at Brenda and then at his comrade before falling to the ground with a groan.

Brenda wrenched the axe blade free, the sword tip still imbedded in it, and turned to face the remaining man. This fellow backed away, tossed a ring of keys into the air and fled, tossing his sword and shield over his shoulder as he ran.

"I don't know why we made that distraction," muttered Eluth. "Brenda could have taken them all on by herself probably."

King Sanford of Dallas didn't have a throne. Indeed, he barely had the remnants of a small army of outlaws. In addition the previous King and Queen's slaves had escaped with the aid of several members of the Crimson Companions including Pothax Doxon. And so Sanford decided that he was in no position to be trying to reestablish a monarchy and instead decided it would be better to go talk to Pothax and discuss the matter of who should be in charge of Dallas, thus improving his chances of gaining control.

If Pothax didn't like it then it would be the perfect opportunity to bring out Covell, an incredibly, brilliant swordsman, but lacking the mental power of a true leader. Covell had no choice to follow Sanford's orders or else he'd never see his family again. A year ago during Kobalix's Quest Sanford had kidnapped Covell's wife and three daughters and hid them in some remote place of Colnic. If Covell killed Sanford he'd never see his family again, since it was Sanford that made sure Covell's family was fed and taken care of, it was in Covell's best interest to keep Sanford alive, or else his family would starve without someone sending food for them to eat.

Thus when Sanford met Pothax in the open glade in the castle gardens, it was his full intention to have Pothax killed once he had Dallas in the palm of his hand, much like Covell was. "G'day Ambassador Doxon," he greeted Pothax warmly. "I've heard much about you. I quite admire you!"

"Thank you," replied Pothax. He turned to the armoured woman beside him. "This is Dame Larel. She is the Marine Commander."

Sanford nodded at Larel. She was tall, strong and fairly sharp looking. A dangerous opponent, Sanford was sure, but what really concerned him was remembering hearing about a member of the Crimson Companions, also called Larel, was probably the best crossbowist on the continent. There was finely carved crossbow slung over Larel's shoulder and cross-pistol in a holster on her belt. "G'day Madame. The reason why I asked you here is because I'd truly like to know what you plan to do with Castle Dallas. Lord Dallas is dead and he has no heir, which is what prompted Hyatt and Sinead's accession to what I consider a very small throne."

"But worth fighting for," commented Larel dryly. "We've sent word to King Willium, the Arthian Army will be here in two days. Three at the most, depends on what sort of trouble they run into along the way."

Sanford concealed a frown. If the Arthian Army came he'd never get control of the castle. But perhaps... perhaps if he was left in charge he could ransack the castle, take as many slaves as possible, and escape into the desert. "That's welcomed news. I've had more than enough of this chaos. Who are you leaving behind to look over the castle?"

Pothax turned around, presenting Sanford with a golden opportunity to stab him in the back. A fool's gold, considering Larel with her fist firmly holding her sword by the hilt. The ambassador waved a puffy-looking man forward. He looked like a merchant from the rich clothes, though they were rather tattered. "This is Master Holmes, he's an experienced caravan merchant, which takes a lot of knowledge of how to plan things, plus he's honest so I trust his judgment." Pothax turned back to face Sanford. "You however, with your current power, would make an excellent lieutenant. Don't you think Larel?"

Larel nodded speculatively.

Sanford grinned inwardly. Lieutenant? That would be good enough, as soon as this Holmes was dispatched he could become filthy rich. "Thank you Ambassador," he said quickly.

Pothax was already mounting his horse to leave. "Good luck to you both," he said as he adjusted his sword at his side. "The army will be here soon so you shouldn't have to worry much."

Unfortunately Holmes was every bit as good as Pothax had said he was. He placed guards on every street, hired a band of mercenaries to patrol the streets and keep the peace. He even hunted down many of the former slave masters and had them thrown in prison until the army was due to get here. Thankfully that didn't include Sanford.

As they sat across a large oak table in the grand hall, Holmes began rambling on about a tiny little village north of Castle Dallas called Dryden. Sanford looked up and took a look at Covell sitting quietly at the other end of the table. If Holmes knew about Covell's family there... well, lets just say Sanford wouldn't live long if Covell found out where they were.

"Covell," Sanford shouted. "Come here," he ordered. He smiled at Holmes. "Did I introduce you to my bodyguard, Holmes?" The puffy man shook his head and looked up with interest. Sanford grinned, there was only the three of them in the huge hall, Holmes had given most of the servants the day off.

"Holmes, this Covell. Covell, kill Holmes!" Sanford ordered.

Despite Covell's dim wits his broadsword was out in a flash, but... but where was Holmes?

"Pothax said you might try something like that," said Holmes, rolling out from under the table. He held a rapier posed bare inches from Sanford's neck.

Covell knocked Sanford out of the way with his broadsword and parried away Holmes' thrust. His foot came forward in a well placed kick, but once again Holmes was no longer there. For a fat man he sure could move quickly.

Holmes chuckled. "Must be all those dance lessons my mother made me take as a kid! Or maybe it's the fencing lessons at the Academy of Combat in Athex?" He thrust his rapier at Covell's face to distract him and then kicked the man in the knee cap. "I wonder why Sanford waited until now to try and kill me? Surely he wasn't worried about a little village like Dryden? Or was he?"

Covell backed off with a glance at Sanford who smiled weakly and shrugged. This was not going well for Sanford and he considered making a run for it right now.

"What could possibly be in Dryden that he'd be so worried about? Surely not that wicked sheriff that keeps women and children all locked up, and-"

Sanford's shocked head flew from neck and landed in the fireplace at the other end of the grand hall. Covell shook his head and wiped his sword on Sanford's body before it even hit the ground. He sheathed it and looked at Holmes thankfully.

"Are you Covell Birley?" asked Holmes with a wry grin. "I believe I know your wife and daughters. They're in Dryden."

Covell nodded. "Thank you, but... but how did you learn to fight so well?"

"Well," began Holmes, holding up his rapier and pointing to a tiny insignia bearing a golden eagle and a pair of crossed swords. "It isn't easy getting into the ranks of Arthian Knights, but can you imagine the amount of rigorous training and skill it takes to become an Archknight? There are only a few of us left on the continent, I'm afraid."