Water trickling and gently splashing was a peaceful, calm sound a man who had rarely in his life stopped to listen to the sounds of nature. A pair of strong hands shook him gently. "Time to get up, Waytorn," he heard Wynic say. He thought about getting up to help with breakfast but his warm bedroll seemed to be nagging him to stay and enjoy the idyll peace of sleep.

"Get up, Waytorn!" shouted Victoria from across the camp. The ex-King Culprit grumbled and crawled out of his bedroll, the chill morning air causing goose-bumps to raise all over his skin. He stretched and reflected that Victoria had become increasingly impatient over the last week. After nine months of hauling around the extra weight he'd be impatient to get rid of it too!

The glade was, if anything could be, the best hiding place within half a days ride of Athex. A fresh water spring bubbled up at one end of it and disappeared in a whirl pool at the other end. It was surrounded by a thick maple bush, its canopy blocking the horizon in all directions and governing over a layer of dead leaves and twigs. It was nearly impossible to walk through the bush without sounding like a herd of charging buffalo. Plus, this was the last place Larry would look for them, and Pothax, Rades, Redhawk and Derick wouldn't dare tell him where they were hiding.

Not that they didn't trust Larry, it's just that the cutthroat had an annoying laugh, an annoying voice, and just plain couldn't shut up. Besides Victoria hated having Larry around and had insisted that they go here instead on account that she was pregnant. After seeing the place, Waytorn couldn't disagree, and probably wouldn't have even if the place was the worst possible place in the world. After all, sometimes the best place to hide something is right out in the open. Which is the last spot Larry would look.

The cutthroat bent over and dug around in his pack until he came out with a slightly tarnished silver mirror. His brutally scarred face greeted him as he looked at it and tried not to shudder at his own reflection. He thought of Susanne, or Zsa Zsa, as she was called in old Minotaur. How lucky he'd been to finally come across someone who looked past the scars to see the man behind them. He smiled and tossed the mirror back into his pack. This had become a bit of a ceremony since his engagement to Zsa Zsa, each time he reflected what his life might be like now if he hadn't stumbled upon her.

His face grew dark as he remembered the prophesy of the Spear as well. The finder, retriever and bearer of the Spear of Destiny was supposed to conquer the world. However Rades found it, and Waytorn for the most part pulled it out, which made the prophesy incomplete, even more so since Waytorn gave the Spear to Lord Blackaxe for the knight's collection. The prophesy also said that 'He who speaks the Shadows shall lift it from its icy embrace', and who else but Waytorn knew more about the shadowy life?

The frightening part was destiny. Was it inevitable? Did Waytorn have no choice in the matter and would inevitably conquer the world? Would he be forced into it, or would it suddenly happen and leadership be thrust upon his shoulders? Or would it happen at all? He'd never been a believer in fate, why now?

There were things that already pointed in his favour. His shadowy life, his Dark Throne, Rades unable to pull the spear free yet it had come easily for Waytorn, it seemed so certain it sometimes terrified the cutthroat. Terrified him like death itself.

Waytorn shook his head and worked his way across the camp to where Wynic sat stirring up a fire. It was almost time to break the fast. The last pound of bacon sat beside the assassin as he was rewarded with a small blaze. "We'll have to go to Athex and get some more food today," he murmured as he sat down beside Wynic.

The assassin merely nodded and continued to work at the fire. He'd been up since midnight standing guard, though nobody could have walked into camp without sounding like a herd of buffalo. Wynic had a nightly routine that had become such a habit it was probably impossible to stop. He always got up in the middle of the night, found a place facing east and stayed there in a semi-conscious state until the sun came up. It was an unusual ritual and Waytorn found it somewhat intriguing.

"I'll go myself," the King Culprit added, studying the assassin. "That I can check up on things in Athex and you can stay here and watch Victoria." Wynic didn't appear to have heard, so intent he seemed to be on the fire.

Victoria chuckled. "He gets like that sometimes, Waytorn," she laughed. "He heard you, but he's too busy thinking to acknowledge the fact." She struggled to sit up where she lay. "It might be a good idea to bring Redhawk and Derick back with you. Wynic Junior might start to get impatient!" she said with a smile. She positively glowed.

Waytorn nodded, making a mental note to stop at the palace on his way to get his report from Rades. The Stornium had been keeping a keen eye out for him and Waytorn knew he could trust Rades.

"Whew!" breathed Wynic as Waytorn's horse disappeared into the forest, the rustling of dead leaves slowly fading away. "I thought he'd never leave!"

Victoria looked up. She glanced in Waytorn's direction and back at Wynic with concern. "What do you mean?" she demanded.

"Didn't Redhawk tell you his prediction? There's got to be a whole shipyard full of trouble back in Athex as far as the underworld goes and no one there to sort out the mess and figure out what's really going on! Athex is being ripped apart at the seams and it's only a moment of time before it all falls apart!"

"So? What's this got to do with Waytorn?"

"Don't you get it? Athex is on the very brink of total war and nobody is noticing it! There are thousands of tiny groups allied together under one roof, each with a different opinion. There's those scholars at the university that keep stirring up trouble with their protests, Independent spies, Cherten spies, Colnic spies, the Kobalix Cult, and God knows who else! Only Waytorn had enough power to stay on top of it all. He's the reason the rest of Kobalix's men went into hiding, which means they've probably come out to do more damage, the Independents will be going nuts trying to assassinate Willium with the crisis in Colnic, the Colnic spies will be trying to figure out what they're supposed to be doing and there's probably a few ambitious lords who are thinking about trying to overthrow Willium when his armies off and in Colnic and his back's exposed due to everything that's going on in Athex and on top of it all it's Summerfest, the most hectic time of the year in Athex. Willium is probably praying for Waytorn to come back and fix everything up, but I'm afraid it's too late for that!"

Victoria pursed her lips. "So you think Waytorn should fix everything? Just like that?" she asked snapping her fingers.

Wynic frowned and took a deep breath. "It's too late for that, but if he could find out as much as he can and then relay it to King Willium, we might be able to stop a massacre, or something along those lines! It could mean he destruction of life as we know it if Athex, the center of civilization, was to fall into chaos!"

"You're too dramatic!"

It felt strange to be walking across the rooftops of Athex and not to see fellow culprits. Even the most guarded places had at least a pickpocket or two, usually more because it's more profitable. Where was everybody, Waytorn wondered.

He made his way across the city encountering no other cutthroats and ending up in Wynic's estate. He climbed in threw the ceiling-to-floor window of Wynic's study and lit several candles before going off to find Rades. There was a woman staying in the one guest room, another in Wynic and Victoria's room and Princess Kelly was staying in the one across the hall. Rades himself had Redhawk's old room and had slept in. Must've been a long night.

He entered the room like the wind and shook Rades gently, his hand covering the Stornium's mouth to avoid noise. The Graf struggled momentarily but then grinned when he saw it was just Waytorn. "Get dressed. Meet'cha in the study," the cutthroat whispered.

Waytorn went back to the study, noting that the woman in the room across from Kelly's was up and moving about in her room. He crept back to study, careful not to make the door squeak as he opened it. Once inside he sat down in Wynic's chair facing the ceiling-to-floor window and poured himself and Rades each a goblet of Kinian brandy.

Rades smiled sheepishly as he entered. "You want your report, correct?"

Waytorn nodded and motioned him into a chair. "There's a lot going on and I know you don't have even a quarter of it, but at least you give me an overview." He handed him the goblet of brandy.

The Stornium Graf grinned and took the goblet thankfully. "Most imminent is Fraulein Nevada, she's staying in the room next to us. I figured it's best if I keep a close eye on her. She's not sure what to do right now, she just learned that you divided the crimeworld up and that she's wasted her trip here. West has proclaimed himself Prince of the Arthian Underworld, or something like that. He's the only major figure left except for Nevada. There's been no other visible movement with the exception of a few Independent related assassinations, including an attempt on Willium. I've seen nothing at all of Kobalix's men." He took a quick drink of the brandy before continuing. "The Kobalix Cult is staying low still, though I expect they'll try to move against West once they've gathered their forces. I'm also going to make the suggestion that King Willium and many other important figures take a vacation, but the question is where?"

"They're always welcome at Treburdun," Waytorn offered. "I have a feeling there will be a lot less crime once this is all over. As I was coming here I didn't run into a single fellow cutthroat!"

"According to several reports from the city patrol there's been a lot of dead bodies turning up, mostly cutthroats, thieves, that sort of thing. They're killing each other off and a lot of them have probably went into hiding."

Waytorn smiled briefly and took a drink. "Could you find Derick and Redhawk and head for the stream? Victoria's near to bursting and I really have to talk to some of my other contacts. I'll meet you there." He downed the rest of the brandy in his goblet, slipped out the window, and closed it behind him.

Rades sat there thoughtfully and sipped at his brandy slowly. There was a knock on the door and Nevada entered. She was wearing a thin negligee borrowed from Victoria's room. Her thin silhouette was marvelous to look at.

"Good morning," she said, running a hand through her tousled hair like a comb. She looked around the room, glancing at a crockinole board and back at Rades. "How do you play crockinole?" she asked simply.

She'd been listening! Rades knew it. There was no real reason for her to be here so soon after Waytorn had left, unless she had something up her sleeve which still meant that she was up to no good. "Sit down and I'll show you," he offered, struggling to control himself.

She was a good shot, depending a bit more on luck than she should, but good nevertheless. Dillard had taught Rades a trick using the index finger that never missed the opponents piece, taught him how to set up a nearly impossible placement and a winning strategy. The knight had been incredible at the game, making Rades look like a shadowy reflection of his friend. Rades even recalled envying his friend at times.

Nevada caught on quickly and Rades soon found himself hard pressed to keep ahead in the game. At last she had three pieces lined up mockingly on the other end of the board and he had only two. He managed a ricochet shot Dillard had taught him and got a piece into the middle, but her piece stayed in the play area and still counted. He had one shot left and Nevada had two. He had thirty-five points now and she had thirty.

She hit the piece in the middle but it bounced into a peg and into the pit, giving Rades an additional twenty points. "Dammit!" she swore with a grin. Her piece was still in the middle zone though so she was still beating him forty-five to forty.

Rades last shot took out two of her pieces near the rim but didn't stay on the board. The score was now forty to twenty-five.

Nevada deciding to risk taking a shot for the pit. If she got it in she'd win by five points if she didn't her piece wouldn't count and the score would still be forty to twenty-five. Her major problem was the piece she had already in the middle zone was in the way. She looked at the shot at different angles, even reconsidering going back to try and knock Rades' pieces but they were at much more difficult angle. She finally shot at the center, the piece bumping into the piece already in the center and going into the pit, scoring an additional twenty points. However the piece she bumped went into the outer zone making the score an even forty-forty.

"Well," said Rades, leaning back in his chair and stretching. "You're getting better, I have admit that. You managed to tie that last one. Want to play again?"

Nevada shook her head and stood. "Maybe it's the wine," she said as she walked over to him and sat down in his lap. "But Victoria's clothes are way too tight for me. Don't you think?" she asked, running a hand through his hair and leaning her head on his shoulder.

Rades fought to remember that she was obviously up to something and keeping that in mind he said: "I bet you say that to all the guys?" He smiled and allowed himself to be drawn into her kiss as she smiled and ran her hands across his chest.

"What are you doing this afternoon?" she asked, one hand snaking down past his belt into his kilt. She smiled as she kissed him, her lips sweet tasting and playful.

"I'm not sure yet. I was thinking about going out for a ride sometime. Would you like to join me?"

"Sure," she nodded.

Captain Savin looked up, only half surprised to see Waytorn lurking outside King Willium's window. The cutthroat knocked at the window politely again and placed his arms akimbo. Savin smiled and shouted, "Do you have an appointment?"

King Willium grinned and shook his head at his pirate friend. "Let him in will you, and leave the window open, it's dreadfully hot in here." Sometimes the middle-aged King sat and wondered what had happened to this world for crime lords, pirate captains and Kings to become friends and allies. It's a strange world I live in, Willium mused.

Savin got up and opened the window with a flourish accompanied by a delicate looking bow. Willium imagined Savin would fit in quite nicely in court if it weren't for his shaved head and tattoos. Perhaps one of those damn itchy wigs that are so popular would do the trick?

"Good afternoon gentlemen, your Majesty," said Waytorn, hopping neatly inside. "I hope your kingdom is faring well in the current crisis?" The cutthroat tried to appear happy and jovial but Willium was too skilled at politics to be easily fooled.

"I don't know whether to clap you on the back or strangle you," Willium replied soberly. "My city is in an uproar, the crime rate, according to reports, is a fifth of what it used to be, but the number of dead turning up in gutters have tripled and I'm currently at war with the Independent States and at risk of alienating the Cherten Ambassador," he explained thoughtfully. "At least I don't have worry about a rebellion or something like that, though I'm afraid we might get a famine this summer, famines and wars always seem to go hand in hand."

Savin smiled. "That's not the half of it. A trireme pulled into Southport yesterday with a crew of men and minotaurs from the Northern Empire. This morning there was an explosion on one of the docks and a merchant vessel was sunk. One of my crew claimed to have seen several minotaurs carrying kegs and leather bound tubes beforehand. I'm going to ask Mathex what he might know about that latter thing. That means we might have another run in with the Kobalix Cult."

"Looks like you have your work cut out for you," Waytorn said. "I suppose you aren't worried about the increase in deaths, considering that most of them are cutthroats and thieves anyway. If anything the next couple years should be a boom in Athex with the lack of thieves and everything."

"Indeed, but I'd like you to check out what several sources believe to be the hideout of the current King Culprit, or Prince as they now call him, a fella called West. Take Savin and anybody else you feel like taking with you."

General Chek was a Stornium and a strange one at that. Perhaps that is why Waytorn chose him as the only other person to accompany him on this mission. Chek's strangeness belonged in his quest for fashion. He never wore the same thing twice it seemed and everytime Waytorn saw him he had a new hat. This time it was a green tricorne with a bright purple plumage. Despite his distinct fashion, bright colours, and shortness, he was an excellent military leader and an expert swordsman, leaning towards perfectionism. When told they'd be aiming for stealth and wanting to blend in, he instantly went to his ward robe and picked out a pair of brown riding boots, a brown and yellow kilt, a buckskin vest and a northlander tam that matched his kilt.

Savin looked on and, as always, commented on how girlish a kilt seemed.

"You just don't understand fashion, do you?" Chek stared at the old pirate. "Anybody ever tell you that nobodies found shaved heads attractive in four thousand years?"

"Anybody ever tell you that you'll stand out like a sore thumb in such clean clothes?"

"They won't be so clean once I get blood on them, will they?"

"Ye gotta point there!"

West leaned back and lay thoughtfully. Nevada was good, but this was an incredible life he now led. Brothels of women lined up to please him, money galore, good food, riches, power. What did he need Nevada for?

The Prince had organized ten groups of cutthroats to start a more professional job of robbing. Waytorn's crime network had been ingenious, but he hadn't taken advantage of his power. West's idea of organization went one step forward, to something he preferred to call organized crime. The profits had doubled since then and his men were happier because there was safety in numbers since each group consisted of at least twenty men.

He grinned wickedly as the whore above him continued her work. She was much better than Nevada, and much less inhibited. Although, Nevada definitely had more class. "Perhaps I should keep her as my Queen for a while," he thought, "if I grow tired of her, I can have her killed."

Several shadows moved past one of the shelves in the wine cellar but West didn't notice them. He was far too busy thinking of what he could do to exploit his newfound power, aside from watching the whore's huge breasts bounce up and down against her chest.

Waytorn crouched behind one of the shelves and touched Chek on the shoulder. "He'll get bored with this eventually," he whispered. "I know that from experience. Making love is a brief physical ecstasy and really doesn't compare with real love. Soon he'll be wanting something real, that or taking some girl off the street and raping her."

Chek stared at him. "Please tell me you never did that?"

"No. Not me, I'm still surprised I didn't turn into a derelict with all the brandy I drank while mourning losing Larel. But then Kobalix started poaching my land and I had to turn my attention elsewhere." He smiled bitterly. "West isn't going to pose much of a problem at the moment, but keep an eye on him," he whispered, picking a bottle from the rack. "Chateau Blueflame," he murmured. "Very rare, especially after it was burned down. I don't think he'll miss it," he said, tucking it into the small satchel at his side.

"Oh, sure, help yourself!"

Waytorn looked up at the four armed and naked women standing over him and cursed himself for not double checking if they were being followed. Old age must be making him sloppy, he mused. But not enough since he had posted Savin on the way in to watch for trouble.

West shoved the whore aside and reached for his sword nearby, ignoring the fact he was completely naked. Apparently he had looked for fighting credentials before picking his whores out for the whore he shoved was also moving for a saber left at the foot of the bed. Either he wanted to have whores that also doubled as bodyguards, or believed that fighters were better in bed.

Waytorn jumped to his feet, a dagger already heading for the closest whore-guard. By the time the woman clutched the dagger in her side another two were already speeding towards her comrades. He drew his sword, knowing he'd soon have to fight West off with it.

Chek rolled to the side, avoiding the downward sweep of a longsword and drew his rapier out with a flash as he leapt to his feet. Two deft pokes with the rapier and the woman was regretting not wearing chain mail to bed. She gasped and fell towards him. He caught her in surprise, amazed at what he'd done. He didn't have time to think about it however because the door burst open, revealing a desperately defending Savin besieged by an endless supply of whore-guards, these one's wearing armour.

The woman in his arms wouldn't die, the wounds were minor, she was just in a state of shock more than anything. As gently as possible, he laid her down and hurried to help the besieged Savin.

Pothax had decided to ride ahead of the rest and arrived at the Drunken Dragon Tavern just in time to hear from Billip that Waytorn was in town and had been sent to check on the Prince's hideout. Billip warned him not to go, but then again, since when did Pothax heed warnings?

Without hurry, he stole a horse from the stables across the street and headed towards the Southport district. He had to detour a bit, apparently someone had finally convinced Willium to re-cobble some of the streets. He passed old mansions that were falling into disrepair to the point of becoming hazardous. It amazed him that this had once been the best part of the city, before the crimelords had turned it into a center for brothels, crime hideouts and less desirable occupants. He stopped in front of an estate, it's walls made of black marble with tall, carbon black gates and a distinctly ominous look about it.

"I suppose this is the spot," he murmured to the horse, tying the gelding to the gate, and climbing the gate, avoiding the sharp spikes at the very top. He didn't know what he expected to do here, it was more curiousity than anything. He needed to know more about West.

Tracks led from a spot near the wall across the weedy lawn to an open window into the basement. Curious to know whether it had been Waytorn and two companions who had scaled the wall and went inside, he squeezed through the window and dropped right into a miniature siege.

Wine racks were pushed in a semi circle around the window in an attempt to fend off attackers. Female attackers that smelled heavily of perfume, he noted, wondering if this was some bizarre dream, or nightmare. He'd never liked women who doused themselves with so much damn perfume. The floor was covered with wine, blood, broken pieces of glass and the occasional female body, a few of which were naked.

"Is this a dream?" he asked aloud as he drew his shortsword and lent a hand in defending the wine racks.

A very bloody looking Chek looked at him with surprise. "I only wish it was, because then I'd wake up," Pothax thought he heard him mumble.

"You couldn't have showed up at a better time," Waytorn shouted.

Pothax nodded, taking a moment between his sword-strokes to study his surroundings. The wine cellar was dimly lit by two lanterns at either end, there were wine racks scattered all about the wide chamber, perhaps thirty women were trying to get inside the fortress Waytorn had built, West was on the other side of the wine racks, shouting orders at his troops. He had a huge bump on his forehead and a small, red scar ran down his cheek. "Can you three hold them off for a moment?" he asked.

"What do have in mind?" grunted Savin.

"I'm going to get rid of those lanterns," Pothax said, dropping back from the wine racks and taking several daggers from the bandoleer strapped across his chest. Pothax never misses, though he might have rethought his throw had he known about the puddle of brandy underneath the one lantern.

The momentary lack of light though was enough for him to climb out the window and help Savin out after him. Inside he heard screams and West shouting frantically. Waytorn was the only one left defending the wine racks, though there wasn't much point since the women were now charging to get out the doorway. Chek hoisted a woman up to Pothax and Savin, the cutthroat only briefly noting that she was both naked and injured. What was going on here? Next came Chek himself and finally Waytorn abandoned the racks and climbed out through the window.

Chek braced the woman in his arm and helped her across the weedy lawn, finding a spot free of thistles before laying her down. Waytorn was coughing from smoke and smelled like burned flesh. For a moment Pothax stared at the former King Culprit, briefly wondering if the scars on his face were fresh.

The cutthroat stopped and looked back at the building. With his recent fire in Avolic, he definitely didn't want to burn down Athex as well. No, the fire wouldn't get beyond the wine cellar, the strong marble stonework would insure that. Avolic had depended too much on thatched roofs to keep the sun out and yet let the rain in.

Waytorn collapsed beside the woman where he eyed her speculatively. "Why did you save her?" he asked finally.

Chek looked up, surprised. "I couldn't leave her there to die. Even the most trained soldiers abhor unnecessary bloodshed."

"I think ye should think with ye brain instead of the thing between ye legs!" snorted Savin. Chek glared at him and opened his mouth to retort.

"Nyxa won't be giving Chek any favours, Savin," Waytorn scolded. "As long as I've known her, she's always been business-like. I might convince her to do some spying for us though."

The woman looked up, a bit dazed, but understanding what was going on about her. "Of course, yer Majesty, but there will be the matter of payment. Ye aren't in charge no more!" she said accusingly.

"Report to the proprietor of the Drunken Dragon Tavern. He'll see to it that you get paid not less than a two platinum pieces," Waytorn replied. Nyxa nodded greedily and stumbled to her feet. "Anything important that ye got in mind?" she asked.

"West's whereabouts, his plans, and anything of interest concerning the Kobalix Cult."

Nyxa raised an eyebrow at the latter part but nodded. "I'll go down to the docks right now," she said, starting to leave. Waytorn jumped to his feet before she could leave. "You know about the trireme?"

"The trireme? Oh, the galley! Of course, they've ordered plenty of us whores since they docked!" She chuckled and broke into a run. Chek watched her go, noting that she seemed to be able to ignore the pain in her side once the initial shock was gone.

Several guards burst out a side entrance of the mansion and immediately spotted Waytorn and his friends. Their shouted threats did little to slow them down however, if anything it made them scale the wall even faster. Pothax was the last over and he joined Waytorn on a spirited yet well behaved black stallion as they galloped away.

Derick, and Redhawk met up with Rades and Nevada at Northgate as arranged by Rades, and as arranged Redhawk offered to join them on their ride. Of course, Rades agreed without hesitation, later whispering to Nevada that it would have been impolite to refuse Redhawk's gracious offer.

"You know milord," said Derick when Rades and Nevada rode ahead together, "Rades is pretty good at this type of thing. It's almost scary."

"Yup, I'll have to agree with you there. Would make a damn good spy. He also sent a messenger to Pothax and Larel telling them to meet us at the stream, just in case Nevada's got something up her sleeve."

"Oh, oh!" Derick murmured in alarm.

"What?"

"Someone mentioned to me that Pothax had ridden ahead to Athex. Does Larel know where the stream is?"

Redhawk reined his horse in suddenly and sat there stupefied. "You're right! Larel doesn't have a clue where it is, unless Pothax thought enough to draw her a map just in case!" He spurred his horse ahead. "We better tell Rades to stall for time while we think this through!"

"Damn it!" shouted Larel, tossing the map to Carlo. "See if you can figure out what Pothax means! He can't draw a map worth the parchment it's on!"

The marine nodded and studied the map, quickly realizing that it wasn't a map but a list of directions using landmarks. Pothax had no real idea where it was on a real map and neither could he write that well so he'd done the best he could by providing the landmarks in order. A hexagon symbolized Athex, a capitol N to symbolize north, etc. The only problem Carlo had was discerning which landmarks came in order, but once they found one of them, they were sure to find the rest. "Head north-east for the moment," he shouted to his fellow marines. "Look for a knarly-looking tree beside a cemetery!"

Terencio was missing so Rodrigo and Johann knew this meant the Cherten had went with his fellow men to follow Nevada and Rades. Indeed, there wasn't a single Cherten to be found anywhere in Athex. With the exception of Rodrigo and the Cherten Ambassador.

Realizing that they were late, Pothax and Waytorn decided it'd be best to ride out to the stream with all haste. This meant stealing a pair of exceptionally fast horses from the stables beside the Royal Athexian and using what Waytorn called the 'detour route'.

The 'detour route' was a tunnel out of the city, via some abandoned sewers in the Northport district that Waytorn had fixed up. It also meant avoiding the guards at Northgate which was always a slow process, even slower since the horses were stolen. There was very little filth inside the tunnel, indeed it was quite clean and would make a better inn than most Pothax had seen in this district. "A Royal Athexian if I ever saw one," he commented dryly as they emerged into the light on the other side of the wall.

Waytorn snorted. "I must admit I've kept it fairly clean and well protected in the past, but its sure to fall into disrepair if West doesn't look after it." He clicked his tongue and his stallion burst into a steady gallop.

"I'll take it," Pothax offered, spurring his horse to keep up. "I'll need a place to stay pretty soon once Victoria's baby gets born. Wynic's estate is crowded already."

"There are better places, you know?" muttered Waytorn, blinking his eyes in the bright sunshine. "Surely you can find a place not so drafty?"

"I will, but for the moment, in this heat, drafty is good," Pothax agreed, shielding his eyes from the sun. Waytorn had to admit the tunnel had been much cooler than the outside air.

The King Culprit looked about the barren, windswept plain, with the exception of the towering walls and towers of Athex. It seemed cooler here than in the city, probably due to the huge amounts of people tucked into the walls of Athex, though there was certainly more shade in the city. The plains offered only a few copses of trees, unless you were near the shore of Lake Vormia where maples and oaks grew in abundance.

The two cutthroats rode on in silence, concentrating on keeping up a fast pace. Pothax found himself growing worried for Wynic and Victoria. He just hoped Rades and Derick were taking their time in getting there.

"This looks like a good spot for a picnic," Rades shouted pointing at the forest of maples up ahead. "Derick, you ride up ahead to gather firewood."

The squire nodded and nudged his horse forward at a gallop. He smiled as he dismounted just under the first huge maple and saw that Rades and the rest were still back several hundred yards and weren't going that fast period. He slipped off into the forest, disappearing behind several trunks and started sprinting, knowing that his noise would tell Wynic of his coming and yet Nevada wouldn't be able to hear what he was doing.

He heard a slight rustle overhead and was instantly knocked to the ground by what could only be Wynic. Rough hands grabbed him by the tunic and helped him to his feet. "Thanks," he muttered, dusting off the dried leaves clinging to his tunic.

"Sorry," the Paladin Assassin apologized. "I wasn't sure if that was you or an intruder and I had to make sure."

"Nevada's here with us, and probably has her men following us. Rades stalled for a picnic so that you and Victoria can head back to Athex. We'll meet you at your estate."

Wynic nodded calmly. He didn't appear to be that concerned.

"How's Victoria?" Derick asked.

"She's fine, or so she says. Another day or two, I think."

"I'll take a look at her."

He's up to something, thought Nevada as Redhawk stood and went to look for Derick. Could this be the spot? Could Waytorn be waiting here with Wynic Doxon and Victoria?

"You're right. We are up to something," grinned Rades. "As are you, and Waytorn for that matter." Nevada gulped, realizing she'd spoken aloud. "We're all up to something it seems. You want to kill Waytorn and rule his empire. Waytorn wants to leave this empire of his he built. I want to help him. Which is why I lead you and your men on a wild goose chase, gave Redhawk and Derick a chance to escape, and ... Well, you can guess the rest. What I'd like to know is how far you'd go. Would you murder?"

Nevada was so close to exploding it was a surprise to her that her reply was so calm. "I've killed before for less." She was referring to killing Rades, she realized.

"But would you murder a complete innocent? A babe perhaps?"

Her face went white and she sat thoughtfully. A babe? Would she really do that? She remembered seeing her sister's babe back in Cherte before she left. A pudgy-looking, little boy born into a world of harshness. Would she murder him? "No," she said firmly.

"Did you know by coming here now, you were endangering Victoria's unborn son?"

She had, she realized that now, but she hadn't taken note of it. She hadn't known just how pregnant Victoria was, hadn't thought it important enough to find out. Perhaps... Perhaps she would murder a babe. She banished the thought. "I didn't know."

"That's good. I'm glad to see you have a soul," said Waytorn, the scarred man appearing to the left of Rades. "Good day, Nevada."

Larel made it imperative that they keep a scout ahead of them at all times, thus Roreed sent Eluth back with a message that he'd found the forest, but he'd also spotted two other groups up ahead. One was Rades, Lord Redhawk and a woman, the other was a band of perhaps twenty warriors.

Larel sent Eluth to fetch Roreed back so they could plan out a strategy. It was obvious that the warriors were Nevada's Cherten's and that they planned to attack and kill Waytorn if the chance arose. Larel's own feelings for Waytorn were very old and bitter, and though she sometimes hated him, she did see that he only wanted to find happiness. In addition she found the fall of the crime network as a truly good occurrence, even if Colnic had gone down with it.

The Chertens were waiting just over a small rise waiting for a signal from Nevada, or some sign that it was time to attack. They weren't doing much other than sitting, a few were playing cards, while others were having a dagger tossing competition on the trunk of an old oak.

In any normal attack procedure, there would be an archer placed to aid the fighters. However, since Brenda was pretty much invincible in hand to hand combat, it was decided that Brenda alone would attack on foot, while the rest of the marines would attack by crossbow or bow.

Brenda herself seemed quite fearless, as she donned her studded leather armour, and brandished her halberd. She gave Carlo a quick kiss as he helped her strap the halberd to her back for the sprint across the field. She tied her blond hair back in a pony tail to keep it out of her eyes before giving Larel a nod to signal she was ready.