Terencio, Rodrigo and Johann looked up from their table at a very angry Rades. The Stornium stormed across the barroom of the Drunken Dragon Tavern and literally lifted Terencio out of his seat to the point that he was face to face with the Graf. "Where's Nevada?"

Terencio swallowed hard and glanced at Rodrigo. "I take it my lady went a little too far yesterday?"

"Indeed, Dominico nearly killed a friend of mine last night and I just heard of an assassination attempt on King Willium."

"First off, I think you should know that Dominico is not a Cherten name, it's Icolnic, and secondly, that killing spree Nevada ordered was also ordered stopped yesterday morning. Plus there's the additional fact that we set King Willium as off grounds because we didn't want to set off an international war." Terencio looped his arms under Rades' and neatly wrenched himself free.

"I want to speak with Nevada," Rades demanded, sitting down beside Johann at the table. "Where can I find her?" He narrowed his eyes at Terencio, looking like he might kill if he didn't get a straight answer."

"Probably entertaining a guest in her room at the Royal Athexian. She has only one shot left at becoming Queen Culprit now that you managed to sneak Waytorn out of the city." Terencio smiled wryly. "Oh, and by the way, a fellow called Neal is the new King Culprit, though that won't last long because he's a fool and a drunk. Probably dead already," he said with a snort. "Right now, you wouldn't even get through the front gate to talk to Nevada with all the guards she's posted with a description of you. There isn't too many one-eyed Storniums about. I'll set up a meeting in the park at the end of the street, the one beside Wynic Doxon's estate where I believe you're staying?"

Rades nodded and sat back. He had no choice but to wait and that had a calming effect on him. He ordered a Kinian brandy and a roasted leg of mutton plus black raspberry pie. Rodrigo, Terencio and Johann resumed talking in Escherten. The Graf barely paid attention, his eyes going to a man playing the bag pipes, a pair of Northland dancers and a man singing 'When Arthish Eyes Are Smiling'.

His thoughts turned to a imaginary map of Arthian, with the Arthish in the south, the Northlanders in the north and the Athexians or Athelsh in the middle. And yet he remembered Dillard once saying that if you ever stuck a Arthish man in the same room with a Northlander neither of them would come out because they'd kill each other, and God defend anyone who got the two mixed up. He missed Dillard.

Suddenly Rades stood and walked over to the bag piper. The look of longing in his eyes must have told the piper everything he needed to know because he immediately handed over the bag pipes. Rades thanked him by ordering him a stein of scotch.

The music that flowed from the bag pipes felt like a rush of cool water on his fevered skin to Rades, though to everyone else it sounded like a joyous dancing jig, though a little too fast and too many notes. That's one thing all the composers and musicians always complained about Rades' work. Too many notes in too small a space. No one else could keep up with him so they adapted his work to make it playable by the common bard.

In a secluded corner of the room, surrounded by five Stornium knights plus Lord Redhawk was Queen Helen. She smiled at the Graf and his music took on a more boisterous air, a sort of fanfare. He grinned back, closed his eyes and fell in tune with his music, allowing him to forget everything and escape into his own world of harmony where best friends didn't die and lovers didn't betray lovers.

"P. T. S. D.," murmured Derick thoughtfully from his seat beside his lord. Redhawk raised an eyebrow questioning. "Post-traumatic stress disorder, milord," answered the squire. "Commonly called 'battle fatigue', or cowardice. A colleague of mine did a study on it recently during the Ice War. Rades is a fair example of it and it is fairly incurable, though Rades' music would appear to be the remedy in his case. It seems to bring out the best in him."

"She's not Cherten," said the Cherten Ambassador. "She's from the city-state of Pearl, sent here to spy and if opportunity arose, to assassinate, though she admits she isn't very good at it. I'd say you have a major crisis on your hands. Would you care to make an alliance with Cherte? We've had similar grievances with them as well?"

"I well know that Cherte has long feuded with the city-states, and Cherte is free to raid the states as much as they like, considering they don't get too greedy, of course," replied Willium.

"Of course," said the stoic ambassador. He obviously disliked the open way Willium negotiated and was struggling to not show it. "If you wish to speak with the prisoner you will have to speak in either Escherten, old, Kinian, old Colnic, old Arthian or Independien. Have a good day your majesties," he said and strutted out the door.

"What I don't understand," murmured Gith. "Is how in Hell could she be a spy if she doesn't even speak the Common tongue?" He scratched his balding head with a smile and toyed with his cane.

King Willium and Nebonex frowned. "I hadn't thought of that," admitted the huge minotaur. "We'd better talk to her and see if we can get some sense out of this. Maybe she was just a courier and there is more spies out there?"

West drowsed off immediately afterwards and Nevada checked to make sure he was really asleep before dressing and going out. Her recent encounter with Rades had scared her. She wasn't any happier when she received the message that Terencio had set up a meeting for her with Rades in the park.

Slipping on a black velvet blouse, a kilt and tucking a dagger in the back of her doe-skin boots, she climbed out the window, slid down the wall, and ended up in the dark alley way where two of her fellow Chertens were waiting. "Let's go," she muttered. She didn't at all like another encounter with Rades and reminded herself to have a talk with Terencio about setting up meetings without her permission.

Even though it was late at night the city still buzzed with noise and work and it occurred to Nevada, "When do these people sleep?" There was still a lot of fuss about the new King Culprit Maseri, when it was now Neal who was in charge, though that probably wouldn't last very long. The Dark Throne as it was called was very unstable these days. Some people saw this as a good sign, thinking the crimeworld might kill itself off. Others who knew more about the subject, knew that if it were to collapse it might take down several kingdoms with it, like Colnic. Only a few thought that might actually be a good thing.

One might wonder where Waytorn had disappeared to, but did it really matter? He no longer was in position for the Dark Throne, indeed, he didn't want it or he wouldn't have went through all this trouble just to get rid of it. It was apparent to Nevada that Waytorn had left for his keep up in the Kinian Mountains, though it was highly likely that he was planning on returning eventually since it was rumoured that he'd been offered a place in court: The Lord of Cutthroat Keep.

Nevada found it uneasy to call that fortress up in the mountains simply a keep. City would be closer. She'd even heard a few rumours that it was bigger than Kinian's capitol Jaton and that Waytorn was planning on calling it Treburdun.

She could see the park up ahead in the dim moonlight and even spot a figure leaning against an old oak tree. The shine from the figure's sword suggested who the bearer might be. As she got nearer Rades drew it and waved her forward with it. Almost tauntingly.

Nevada swallowed the lump in her throat, moving forward swiftly, and trying to look calm and in control. Her fellow Chertens took up positions off to the side and kept their distance as was proper. If Rades made any move it would be his last.

"I regret my friend Osmond and your friend Dominico or Dominigo couldn't come," said Rades, biting back a snarl. "Osmond's barely alive, and Domingo's head is currently resting on a pike outside the Osmondelias Estate." He smiled thinly.

"What?" Nevada screeched. "What's Dominigo doing here? I left him in Cherte!"

Rades frowned. "Then it is Dominico, not Dominigo. Unless you know of another called Dominigo?" He sheathed his sword.

Nevada ran a hand through her hair with frustration. She paused, realizing her men were watching and smoothed out her hair. She needed them right now and they needed her leadership. Taking a deep breath, she frowned in concentration. "Dominigo was an old lover. I left him in charge of my holdings back in Cherte. If he's disobeyed orders and came here, I want to know for sure. Other than that, I don't know a Dominico, or even a different Dominigo! That's not a Cherten name, though to you mainlanders it probably doesn't matter!"

"Good," Rades smiled briefly. "And I'll expect your cooperation in helping us find who sent Dominico, plus another assassin to kill King Willium, or else I'll be forced to tell West why he got into your bed so damn easily!" Rades looked at her stoically and she matched his visage by not even showing her hatred of him. "And before we go to Osmondelias' estate, I'd like to say that I felt somewhat ashamed at tricking you. It's not a good feeling, but you're probably used to it, aren't you?"

Actually no, Nevada admitted to herself. She tried not to become involved with her victims, but that didn't mean she didn't feel a certain amount of guilt, though somewhat lessened than if she actually liked the person. She tried to stereotype her victims so she'd feel nothing but despise for them. She couldn't however stereotype Rades. He was just so... so unique. She even felt herself liking him, despite the fact that he'd tricked her so cruelly. She couldn't say yes, because then he'd think her to be heartless, but how could she say that she did feel shame and give him an advantage over her? She pursed her lips and thought. "No one ever gets used to it," she replied. "Just like no one truly gets used to killing, do they?"

Rades nodded in understanding. He walked forward slowly, his eyes on her. Nevada's guards eyed him suspiciously. He offered her his arm.

Nevada remembered the last time he'd offered her his arm for support, and what had followed. She took it cautiously, hooking her elbow around his. She looked up and forced a smile.

"Shall we go, Fraulein?" His one eye caught hers.

"Lead the way, Rades," she said, bowing her eyes. She felt suddenly weak and dizzy, and was glad for his arm.

Rades smiled and took his spitfire cap from the branch it was hanging on. He walked at an easy pace, apparently knowing that he had to let Nevada's guards follow or risk a fight. Nevada found it hard to concentrate on where she was going, too upset she was about this new and unusual feeling she had. It wasn't lust, like the lust she'd once felt for Dominigo back in Cherte. Something different that staggered her even though she knew not what it was. It wasn't love, she was certain of that.

"Mathex," said King Willium, his eyes glued to the toy steam engine that went around and around the copper tracks. "If I had the money you needed, I'd give it to you in an instant. But I don't. The recent wars have nearly emptied the vault and my prime minister claims it's high time we repaired some of the streets, which is going to cost a fortune. I'll buy this toy however after you're done getting the money from Waytorn."

"Just imagine the amount of things you could transport on such an engine," noted Prince Nebonex. "If Waytorn doesn't buy your idea, I'm sure I can coax mother into building tracks from Athex to Evicoth, as part of the trade deal between the Empire and the Allied Kingdoms. It would cut down on shipping expenses and maybe we could reopen Kobalix's coal mines to use for the engine. They are technically property of the Empire even though they are in Athex."

"We're going to make a leader out of you yet," grinned Willium, his eyes still glued to the toy engine as it sped around the track. "Let's all hope you don't run into any of those greedy-no-good-for-nothing-politicians! If I had my way, I'd make it so only clergy men could run for office that way they won't be tempted to steal from the vault, but then my Prime Minister would have a fit because he'd have to join the clergy and give up his personal belongings."

"You'll have a problem finding Waytorn though," commented Gith. "Only Rades, Redhawk and Derick know where they've really gone to. They're not going to Waytorn's keep, I can tell you that. It's a bit too obvious. Then there's the problem of getting one of them to tell you where, because it's a need-to-know basis. Rades needs to know so he can tell them what's going on here in Athex, and Redhawk and Derick need to know because Victoria's pregnant. The interesting thing is that they didn't tell Larry where they were really going, maybe they don't trust him, or maybe it's because Victoria hates Larry's guts and doesn't want him around while she's so critically pregnant."

Osmond groaned and tried to roll onto his side so he could see out the window better. Outside on the gate hung a gruesome looking head, placed there as an old Northlander tradition to ward off enemies. Before the gate stood Rades and the woman Osmond guessed to be Nevada.

As a noble he was of course interested in who sat on the now famous Dark Throne. If Nevada vied for the throne, he wished her luck, but he didn't like the idea of being killed in the process. When he saw her shake her head, he breathed a sigh of relief and cursed himself for not remembering the obvious. If her people didn't send Dominico, then who did? Cherte, which meant possible war, or one of the Independent Cities, which again meant war?

Rades frowned. "If you knew politically what this means, you'd know that this means one of the Independent Cities has declared war. The reason is obvious: If King Willium dies and Princess Darylinn assumes the throne, then Arthian will stay out of the Colnic issue. If that happens, the Independents conquer Colnic and expand their own little kingdoms, thus bringing possible war to Arthian. Again. But I doubt they'd attack Arthian when the Minotaur Empire is allied with us, and everyone knows what the Minotaur Legions can accomplish." He looked up at the sky, hiding his single eye. "I know only too well."

Nevada stared at the Stornium, remembering some of the sadder tales about him. It must feel incredibly terrible to not even have a home, a people, to be the last of those who can claim they came from Castle Deltex. How terribly lonely? Rades was unusual and bore his weights with a strange manner and rare complaints. "How is Lord Osmond?" she asked in an attempt to change the topic.

"Resting I believe," murmured Rades. "Stay here, I want to go talk to him." He took a step forward and Nevada grabbed his arm.

"You expect me to wait here for you?" she asked. "You honestly expect me to still be here when you come back?" She stared into his eye defiantly and placed her arms akimbo.

"No, I honestly don't. What do you suggest?"

"I'll go with you. Simple as that."

Rades frowned as he thought about it. Nevada found that he frowned way too much to be healthy. He obviously was wondering at her motives for accompanying him. He didn't reply and simply offered his arm to her for support.

Nevada thankfully took it.

Osmond looked up and was happy to see Rades enter. He wasn't so sure about Nevada's presence in the room though. "Greetings Rades. I hope you bear good news?" he said, trying to sound cheerful though his voice came out as a croak.

Rades only smiled and shook his head. "Tell me one piece of news recently that turned out to be good news?" He grinned and turned to Nevada before Osmond could reply, though the noble had to agree. "Osmond, this is Nevada. Nevada, this is Osmond."

"How typically formal from a Stornium," smiled Osmond. "If he'd wanted to go farther he could have told us our titles and our mother-in-laws maiden names!" he said with a snorted croak. "He also could have said 'Nevada, this is what's left of Osmond'."

The Cherten smiled despite herself. Osmond was a friendly fellow, she could see that already. "I hope you get well soon milord. A sharp wit like yours might dull if left alone in this room."

"Why thank you! Perhaps you could stop by later so I don't start rusting!"

Rades smiled and promptly cut in, politely as he could, knowing how much Osmond enjoyed verbal jousting, much like his sister. "We may have another war on our hands, I'm afraid."

"As a knight, Rades, I think you should know that I've had enough wars to last me a life time. I think I speak for the rest of the knights too when I say I'm tired of war," Osmond said bitterly. He smiled. "Though right now I couldn't even swing a sword, let alone wield a lance."

Rades smiled. "Don't get your hopes up. You'll be up and about before you know it. I know Lord Redhawk was when he was injured during Kobalix's Quest and he was in worse shape than you!"

"I find that hard to believe," groaned Osmond.

Princess Darylinn had been quite lonely since her friend Bren had went west to Avolic, but she got through those lonely times by riding her horse, Snakey, and making frequent trips outside the palace grounds. She knew she wasn't supposed to leave the grounds without a full escort, indeed she was supposed to have guards near her all the time since the recent assassination attempt. Perhaps it had been a few lessons from Bren on how to hide and how to scale walls that had given her this urge to go out into the city. Plus all the tales of what's beyond the palace walls.

Five million people for example. The wharves were high on her list of places to go, but there was no way in Hell that Captain Alfred was going to take her there, even if he had an whole army to protect her. So it was up to Darylinn to evade Alfred, slip over the palace walls and make her way through the streets of Athex.

She always kept the palace in sight though. Slowly exploring every single inch of the area directly within sight of the palace. Especially the roofs of buildings. Athex seemed to be a totally alien world when you got up above the city itself. It was like a jungle of chimneys, shingled roofs and dark chasms up there and always Darylinn felt herself drawn east. Towards the wharves.

Today she had decided to go a step farther. She'd learned enough that if she followed Eastgate Avenue, she'd end up at Easttower. Which was wharves. What she'd do then, she didn't know. Probably turn right around now that she'd seen the wharves and head right back to the palace.

However, before she even got a portion of the way there, her eyes fell to a dark alley below and it's occupants. The man below looked dead, though he could have been drunk or asleep. That didn't matter, what intrigued Darylinn was the dagger on his belt.

Now Darylinn's mother had always scolded her curiousity killed the cat. Which never made sense to Darylinn first of all because she wasn't a cat and secondly because cats had nine lives. Whatever the case Darylinn's curiousity got the better of her and she quickly scaled down the wall and approached the man slowly.

He was a very big man, that much she was sure of. She reached down and grasped the handle of the dagger. She gave a quick tug and the man made a small groan. She jumped back and struggled to calm her nerves. She'd forgotten to undo the latch.

Taking a step forward, she grasped the handle and flipped the latch. There was a sharp click and she yanked the blade free when the man gave out a sharp groan and began to get to his feet.

Darylinn's mother had also scolded her about using the words she occasionally heard from the servants. The Princess rarely listened to her mother. "Shit!" she yelped and bolted from the alley into the crowded street. She'd never been so scared in her life.

Princess Kelly was still recovering from the shock of the last night's incident. She was doing better than Osmond's cousin Rebeka however. The poor girl had been so shocked she'd barely eaten a thing since then and all she ever seemed to do was stare. Indeed, since then it had been Kelly who'd taken care of her, most of the servants in Osmondelias' estate too distraught to notice poor Rebeka, so she'd taken the girl to Wynic's estate where she was currently staying.

This had been a huge leap for her, and she could tell Rades was proud of her, though he was quite busy at the time. For the last day she'd kept Rebeka busy playing draughts, chatting, anything to keep her mind off what had happened to Osmond.

It helped Kelly to keep her mind off it too. It had scared her a fair bit and with Rades busy she'd began to fear for herself. How she'd gotten back to Wynic's estate had been a bit of a blur since Rades hadn't been there and she'd been so damn frightened.

When Rades finally came home the next day he smelled of ale, whiskey, cider and every other kind of alcohol she could think of. To say that he'd been drinking was an understatement, but after not having any sleep in the last day he fell asleep on the sofa in the parlour room. Kelly couldn't bring herself to wake him.

The huge minotaur Raynard ran towards the knight, picking up momentum and pushing slaves aside with his bulk alone. "Give that back, ye damned bantling!"

"Ye better hurry, Rades!" shouted Waytorn. "Dillard needs some help!"

"I know, but this one's stuck!" replied Rades, trying to yank a huge icicle from the ice floor to use as a spear. "Give me some help, will ye?"

Waytorn dropped the icicles he was looking over and ran over to help the Stornium. They grabbed hold of the base of the icicle and placed their hands firmly on the ice. "Okay, one...two...three!" The icicle came free easily and the two of them fell backwards onto the ice floor.

Dillard tossed the pouch at the minotaur and disappeared into the crowd of slaves. Standing up, Rades saw him reappear behind the minotaur. He swung his sword, this time drawing a line of blood across the minotaur's back. Rades hesitated in his throw.

Raynard swung around angrily with a roar and snapped the knight's head with a single punch.

Rades stood there in amazed shock with the icicle in his hands. Dillard dead? Surely this was some horrible nightmare?

"What are you waiting for Rades? Kill him!" shouted Waytorn.

The Stornium barely aimed when he threw the icicle, but he could have aimed better. It flew clear over the minotaur's head.

Rades knew this was a nightmare now, for what had really happened was he killed Raynard with that throw. There was nothing he could do though but endure this nightmare.

Raynard stormed across the room, throwing slaves out of his way in his mad charge at Rades. The Stornium stood there in shock as Waytorn made a desperate attack and was tossed easily across the ice chamber. The minotaur reached out and plucked Rades off the floor and shook him violently.

"Rades, wake up!" shouted Kelly in his ear, her soft hands shaking him in an effort to wake him from his nightmare.

The Graf blinked his eyes, reached instinctfully for his sword, but relaxed when he saw it was only Kelly. He was covered in sweat and shaking all over. He shook his head to clear away the last of his dream.

"You were yelling," murmured Kelly. "It must have been a nightmare. Are you okay?"

Rades tried to sit up, but he was still shaking. He wanted to say yes, but it would obviously be a lie, to Kelly and to himself. "I wish." He reached up a hand and smoothed several locks of curls out of the way so he could see her better. "Thanks."

"What were you dreaming?"

Rades shook his head sadly and his hand dropped to his side weakly. "Dillard's death," he said. "It was all wrong, I dreamt that I missed Raynard with the spear, but I know that I got him right in the throat. I-" Rades' voice choked and he looked away.

Kelly bent over him and kissed him lightly. "You're blaming yourself. Quit blaming yourself!" she ordered.

Rades stared at her. For being kissed and for what she said. "But it is my fault! If I hadn't hesitated Dillard would still be alive!" he protested.

"That was an order, Rades," said the Princess sternly. "It's done, there's nothing you can do about it, but don't make the same mistake twice. And you haven't, Osmond is still alive!"

Rades nodded dumbly and stared at Kelly, a strange feeling coming over him. "Why did you kiss me?"

Kelly smiled. "I love you, or haven't you realized that yet?"

"No, but-" He stopped as Kelly kissed him again. Rades held back, unsure of his feelings. He cared for her, that much was certain, but he'd never even thought of loving her. She was a Princess and a friend more than anything. Rebeka was closer to the type of person that would suit him. Kelly seemed too fragile, too insecure. Still Rades held back, finally deciding that a kiss wouldn't do any harm, but to go no farther. He didn't want to risk losing Kelly as a friend and he didn't want her to lose him because then she might never trust another man again.

By the time Nevada lay back with West in her arms she began to wonder, and fantasize. She'd never felt this way about anybody, why Rades? She knew now what it was. Respect. She respected Rades, bordering on admiration. For all the things he'd gone through and still made a fine gentleman it was simply amazing. Most people would have disappeared into the woods and become a hermit or something like that. But not Rades. His Stornium stubbornness had held sway and he was still alive, which was again amazing. Most people she'd known would have laid down and died after having their eye gouged out.

What this meant she wasn't sure. She wasn't even sure if she respected herself now that she thought about it. After all what was there to respect about a crime lord and a seductress? Her mother had once told her that respect and trust were the first steps of love. Could she actually fall in love with Rades, or was she dreaming?

A knock came on the door and she rose, pulled on a thin robe and went to the door. Terencio was waiting outside with a grin. He smelled of cheap cider. He'd developed a taste for the crude wine since coming to Athex. "Neal is dead. A fellow called Ashford is now the King Culprit. And get this, Ashford is supposed to be working for West. This may be our chance."

There is a lot of things that go into running a tavern, and a lot more things go into guaranteeing that the Drunken Dragon Tavern stayed a success and amongst the best of the pubs in Athex. These things include ordering more chairs and table legs for the occasional brawl, more sarsaparilla, venison, buffalo, trout, Kinian wine, apple cider, Riesling from Stornium, finding entertainment such as a good bard or musician. Rades had become a favorite and he was only known to play at the Drunken Dragon which brought extra people just here to hear Rades play.

Then there was the most recent business that Billip and his barmaids had been involved in, and that was keeping aware of all the new happenings where the King Culprit was concerned, including spying on people such as Nevada, a fellow called West, a southerner called Carey and an Athexian called Chadwick and now to keep an eye out for the King Culprit Ashford.

Four of them were currently in the tavern, Nevada and West were in a booth, Carey was off in a corner talking to his fellow men while Chadwick was busy talking to one of Billip's prettier barmaids. Billip had posted barmaids to spy on all of them but West and Nevada, since Rades said that Nevada knew about the spying going on here and to even help her out if possible by telling her what he knew about Chadwick and Carey.

Nevertheless Billip tried to stay close to their booth so he could hear what was going on.

"Did you hear about the new King Culprit? I swear there's one for every day!" asked Nevada.

"Nope! Who now?"

"His name is Ashford."

"What? Ashford?" shouted West loud enough that the cook back in the kitchen could have heard him over the sizzle of frying bacon. The room quieted down for a period of several seconds before it resumed louder than ever.

"What's wrong with Ashford?" asked Nevada.

"What's wrong? Darlin', you haven't been paying much attention hav' ye? Haven't you guessed by now what I am?"

"I thought you were a farmer!"

West laughed. "No, Darlin', I'm a burglar! I'm vying for da Dark Throne!"

"You're kidding me!"

"No, I'm not! But da important thing is Ashford is supposed ta be working for me!"

"But that means-"

"Which means da next time I see his face, I'll be killin' the buggar! Then I'll take the Throne for myself!"

"Oh, really?" smiled Nevada greedily. "You wouldn't mind having a Queen would you?"

"Now dat ye say it, I've been a thinkin' about it!" grinned West. He took a drink and nearly choked. "Wal, speak of the Devil!" he swore quietly and pointed towards the doorway.

A tall, angular fellow stood there surveying the room. Behind him stood at least six heavily armed men all eager to get inside. He whispered an order to the men behind him and began walking in Carey's direction. West ducked low as Ashford glanced in his direction.

"I smell a fight, Darlin'. Perhaps ye should leave now!" West whispered urgently. "I'd hate fer yer purty face to get blood smeared all over it!"

"I'm not without my own resources," smiled Nevada, standing up. "I'll fetch some of my men."

"Thank ye Darlin'!" grinned West, drawing a dirk under the table from his boot. He watched as Ashford maid his way through the crowded room, people getting out of the King Culprit's way on his mission to destroy the threat to his Throne. Our Throne, smiled West thoughtfully with a glance at Nevada's back as she walked away.

Chadwick was making his way cautiously alongside the room on a course that would put him in position to kill either Carey or Ashford, depending on who won. And then West would appear and kill Chadwick. It was all so simple.

A Stornium star flashed through the air but Ashford deflected it with a quickly drawn flail. He picked up his pace, looking like an avenging angel as he swooped down upon Carey and his comrades, killing two of them and drawing his sword on Carey. His bodyguards clung to his side, defending his flanks and yet giving him ample room to maneuver. West had to admit Ashford thought out even the simplest of situations, though coming to a tavern in which several of his enemies plotted was not such a wise move.

Only now did West take note that the room was now crowded with at least twenty of Ashford's men. Ashford had brought many men to insure victory, yet he alone did the killing so as to increase loyalty amongst his ranks of bodyguards. His strategy was not such a bad one if he also meant to kill Chadwick and West, thus eliminating all threats to the Throne. He felt a moment of fear as he realized he might die today but quickly vanquished with his fear with the thought that it would all be worth it. After all, Waytorn had simply strode right up a crime lord in front of two hundred cutthroats and stabbed the crime lord in a quick duel of daggers thus creating an awesome loyalty among those cutthroats present, one of which was West. Surely West could create similar loyalty from this rabble?

Carey leapt forward, his shortsword leaping upward for a slice at Ashford's throat. The King Culprit skipped out of range easily, at the same time his bodyguards moved in and quickly finished off Carey's shocked comrades. Ashford grinned wickedly and charged forward recklessly, his blade cutting an arc towards Carey's neck. The blade stopped bare inches short of his neck as his shortsword came up to block Ash's sword.

An interesting tactic and someone always fell for it, admired West, having known Ash for the last five years and knowing all his tricks. As the two combatants stood locked, Ash twisted the serrated handle of his sword, hidden mechanisms twiggering a spring within the crosspiece, thus releasing a tiny poisoned dagger from both ends of the crosspiece and pricking the artery in Carey's neck.

Carey's eyes went wide with shock and his hands went numb as he desperately tried to stay on his feet. The poison was obviously expensive to work so fast. Ashford's wicked grin turned to a frown and then a snarl as he whirled around to face a smiling Chadwick. There was a thin line of blood cut across Ashford's exposed shoulders.

West got to his feet as Chadwick taunted, ignoring his two enemies as he made his way through the crowd of cutthroats so he was almost right behind Ashford. He watched carefully as the two enemies got closer. Their blades hovering almost within striking distance.

"You can have it," laughed Chadwick. "Unless you haven't heard, the Dark throne includes only Athex. When Waytorn left he sent messages all across the continent, proclaiming new crime lords. You're only in charge of Athex, not Arthian, not the Western Kingdoms, not the entire continent, just Athex!" He laughed and retreated across the barroom. "Don't even try to band them all back together, it's impossible, only Waytorn could manage that!"

"You lie!" shouted Ashford. "You lie! I am the King Culprit! I am the King!" He looked around desperately at his bodyguards who appeared to be having second thoughts.

Chadwick laughed cruelly. "I got my information from Ambassador Pothax and he got it directly from Waytorn! Two days from now Pothax will be here and maybe Waytorn will return to collect some of his things so you can argue with them!"

West felt like a bucket of water had just been dumped on his burning fire for wealth and there was no chance that fire was going to go again. He felt cheated, lost and definitely angry. With a single thrust of his dirk, Ashford died, his sword falling into West's hand as the cutthroat leapt forward, stabbing Chadwick through the heart.

No one moved. It seemed a very solemn moment though West couldn't say why. Gone was this mighty structure of wealth and power Waytorn had created and nothing left but a bunch of measly crumbs. "Men," his voice came out unsteadily. "If what Chadwick spoke is true, then I am no King, but a Prince. I will not build the empire that Waytorn did. I will be satisfied with Arthian and Athex. For now, lets celebrate!" West said, his voice cheerful as he said the latter part. He much preferred it this way, he wouldn't have as much problems as Waytorn did maintaining his empire, and he'd still reap in enough wealth to be considered filthy rich.

Nevada felt like her heart was going to burst. She'd come all this way, to Athex, risking her holdings back in Cherte for a chance at the continent, only to find that there was no light at the end of the tunnel. Unless, unless...unless she could somehow kill Waytorn and claim that she should sit on the Dark Throne, the true throne, and everyone will be happy to be unified under one great leader again.

She looked up and smiled when she saw Rades standing there. "I need a drink," she said to him with a wry grin.

"You can come with me to Wynic's place and sample his collection of Cherten wine?"