Helper of man, Larry thought with a smile. That's what Alejandro means and the horse had certainly proven himself worthy of the name by carrying Larry all the to Treburdun. Although some might wonder if Larry was decent enough to keep the title of 'man'. Indeed Larry was a purebred rascal, even prided himself at being one of the best lying, thieving, murdering rascals in all of Arthian.

The road leading down the valley into Treburdun was somewhat moist with morning dew, though it was quickly drying under the rising sun. The hillside was lined with rows of apple trees still blossoming and providing the peasants with much to harvest. It wouldn't be long before the grapes were ripe and the process of making Kinian wine would begin. Kinian wine was made of both apple blossoms and grapes, though this valley was known to add raspberries to the ingredients to give it a special, more flamboyant taste. He also recalled this was where they brewed Kignac, though Larry himself had never tasted the expensive and potent drink. Maybe now he could take the time.

The city of Treburdun sprawled openly at the bottom of the valley, the keep itself at the very middle on a built up mound of dirt. It was one of the few unwalled cities left in this harsh world. It was however one of the cleanest, most well kept, booming places in all of Kinian. Three foot square granite slabs cobbled the streets, iron street lamps burning the leftover dregs from the distilling of Kinian brandy and Kignac, an officer in a clean red and blue uniform everytime you looked around. For the center of Waytorn's crime empire, Treburdun certainly was crime free.

Then Larry came to the shocking, almost scary realization that he hadn't seen a single beggar. Everyone here had plenty of money and there wasn't a single pick-pocket in sight! He looked around frantically, and still he couldn't spot a single sign of the crime network. Not even one of Waytorn's taverns set up as a haven for cutthroats by the name Raccoon's Den. Larry still chuckled at the name.

He was still pondering this when he trotted through the gates of the keep and ran into Zsa Zsa, or Susanne as Waytorn called her and her butler Larry knew to be Maurice. "G'day Lady Rougeta," he said politely as he dismounted.

"Is my mother here?" she asked innocently with a mocking smile.

Larry chuckled and smiled at her, his eyes lingering where he knew they shouldn't have been. "Lady Zsa Zsa then, if you'll excuse me I really am hungry and due for a bath and a trip to the nearest brothel." He tossed Alejandro's reins to a stable boy and wandered away.

"A despicable man," Maurice muttered grimly.

"Follow him, make sure he doesn't steal the platinumware."

Larry had to admit he didn't want to leave the comfort of the Vormian bath even for a whore at the local brothel. The steaming, hot water just seemed to soak into him, leaving him truly at peace. "If only the brothel could come to me," he said dreamily.

"Monsieur Larry," said Maurice, entering the chamber without knocking. "I've brought that bottle of Kignac you asked for, and have sent for a woman from the Mariana to accompany you." He set the bottle down beside Larry in the hotpool. "Anything else you require?"

"My god this is heaven! You read my mind Maurice!" Truth was Maurice was just making sure Larry was kept busy so that he stayed out of trouble. He'd even went so far as to ask Madame Mariana to provide a whore known for her endurance so that Larry would be occupied longer.

It wasn't until Larry woke up the next morning that he realized he hadn't heard anything from Waytorn as to his payment, which led to the realization that he hadn't heard anything from Victoria or Wynic either. When he asked the whore if she knew where Waytorn might be she just stared at him. "Com'on gal, speak up!"

"Waytorn's in Athex," she replied.

"But he said he was coming here, he..." Larry's voice trailed off when he began to comprehend what had truly happened. He should have known Victoria would object to being in the same keep as Larry. "Looks like I'm going back to Athex then," he said thoughtfully.

"You are going to pay me first."

Larry grinned wolfishly. "I'm not even done yet."

Larry and Alejandro headed south again the next day. A donkey tethered to Alejandro carried several bottles of Kignac, a keg of Treburdun brandy and another keg of Kinian wine from Zsa Zsa Rougeta's father's vineyards. A quarter of it was gone by the time he came out of the Kinian mountains, half of it gone when he passed the Delias Estates and three quarters of it gone by the time Alejandro trotted down the north hill into Athex a week later, leaving only two bottles of Kignac which he decided to sell to Billip at the Drunken Dragon.

"Hey, Billip-" he yelled as he entered the Drunken Dragon and was roughly shoved aside as several men barged in behind him. "Send for Mathex, Wynic's coming," shouted one man. Larry studied the sheer hustle and bustle that followed and decided it would be better to postpone selling the Kignac. Instead he went down the street to Wynic's estate, particularly the wine cellar, to wait for the assassin.

Terencio was lounging up in a tree when Brenda came tearing down the hill towards the Chertens. In his haste of trying to get down his foot got caught between two limbs and realized that he was stuck and could do nothing to help his companions. Crossbow bolts tore down the hill and he heard the screams and saw the faces of dying countrymen. And he could do nothing to help them. Absolutely nothing.

At one point in her training, Brenda had been trained by a Cherten grandmaster, teaching her the battletactics of his people, and its weaknesses. They attacked low at the start, and anticipating this she used the side-roll maneuver she was taught at the Academy of Combat in Evicoth, thus evading their first attack and charging in behind one of them and bludgeoning the back of his head with the handle of her halberd. Dame Larel had specified that she try to knock them out or maim them so that prisoners could be taken.

An old veteran stepped forward with a oak staff and the two started to battle according to the demands of staff sparring while other Chertens circled around behind Brenda. However, Brenda knew better and dropped to a crouch as the staff passed overhead. She stabbed forward with the spear end of the halberd and jerked back, severing the tendons behind the veterans legs. The man collapsed, his leg hamstrung.

The approach to Brenda's rear did not go unheard, and she whirled around in a crouch, the spade point of the halberd catching a Cherten in the thigh. She jerked the halberd free, grabbed his belt and planted both feet up against his legs. A quick maneuver and he was lying on his back unconscious and she back on her feet and ready to go again.

A crossbow bolt whizzed over her shoulder and she heard a sputtered scream as the man died. She didn't have time to think about that though, because three more Cherten's charged her from the front, one swinging low, one high, and one stabbing at her chest with a rapier. She planted the butt of the halberd in the ground, blocking the high and low attacks while side-stepping the stab. She twirled the halberd, catching one man in the groin with the butt of the halberd, stabbing another with the spear point. She wrenched the halberd free, snapping the Cherten's rapier as he attempted another stab while kicking him in the stomach.

The three men backed off as an armoured warrior came forward carrying a polished gold shield and a brilliant Cherten steel blade. He smiled and moved his shield upwards to reflect the sun. Brenda swore as she was blinded by a ray of sunshine in the face. Fear threatened to cause her to panic, but she remembered her lessons and listened to the logic of remaining calm. Closing her eyes, she backed up defensively and attuned herself to the sounds around her, almost meditating.

The rush of wind came and she dove forward, dropping the halberd and holding her arms out wide. Her arms found armoured legs and she twisted his feet out from under him in an old-fashioned wrestling maneuver while she unsheathed a dagger and stabbed the armoured Cherten in the stomach, just below the breastplate, twisting it for maximum pain and heard a satisfying scream of utter agony.

Her sight was slowly coming back to her as she got to her feet and the next attack was easily evaded as she scooped her halberd off the ground and deflected the sword jab. She backed off momentarily to take assessment of the situation. There were only the three she'd already engaged left plus one other who mysteriously was still up in a tree several dozen yards away. The rest had been taken down by crossbow bolts and by Brenda herself.

"Surrender," came a shouted holler from atop the hill. A line of marines with leveled crossbows were slowly making their descent down the hill. Larel shouted again, this time in a language Brenda assumed to be Escherten. She started down the hill.

"On one condition," shouted the man in the tree. "Take us to Waytorn for judgment."

"I was already planning on that," Larel replied.

"Good." The Cherten was quiet for a moment and then shouted: "Could you get me out of this tree first. I am stuck."

Pothax settled down against the tree trunk, preparing himself for what he was sure to be a good show. Waytorn had suggested the cutthroat take to the trees 'just in case'. If any surprises came, Pothax would be there to turn the surprise around and make it backfire on the enemy.

Waytorn sat down casually beside Nevada, absently flipping the dagger in his hand and catching it effortlessly. The flipping would keep Nevada's mind focused on the dagger and not on the conversation, as was its purpose. It didn't take a scholar to tell that Waytorn had everything under control and resting in the palm of his hand, much like the dagger hilt.

Nevada bit back a snarl and risked a glare at Rades who had leaned forward so he could listen to the conversation better. Her face was pale and she looked very small and fragile. "W-what do you want?" she said slowly, visibly struggling under the amount of surprise and fear of the situation.

"More properly, what do you want?" Waytorn replied smoothly.

She paled to the point that Pothax wondered if she would faint. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I want your empire."

"I have no empire left, but perhaps I didn't phrase that properly. What do you want from my empire."

Again Nevada paled. She was the colour of flour. She stared at Waytorn and didn't answer.

"Wealth? Power? Fame perhaps? What else is there?" Rades prompted.

Nevada frowned. Wealth? They were right, of course, what could she buy that she didn't already have. Power was useless unless you had a goal to focus it at. Her only goal was to become the Queen of the Crimeworld... Or maybe that was it, all that really mattered, all she really wanted. To have power over the biggest organization to ever grace the continent. The achievement... Yes, that must be it. "The achievement," she said quietly.

"Huh?" asked Rades.

Waytorn smiled with satisfaction and sheathed his dagger. "I thought as much. You like the challenge. Much like a mountain climber who dares to climb the tallest mountain just so he can say he did it or the gambler who plays for the challenge of beating everyone else. But the question is will you cheat in this game of poker? What lengths will you go in order to win?"

"Does it matter?" Nevada asked coldly. "It would appear you are the one with all the wild cards!"

"You forget! I am no longer playing."

He was right again. Why was he so damn smart? Experience? She began to wonder what was the point of all this, but Waytorn's smooth voice interrupted her thoughts.

"I checked up on your history even before you came to the main land. You come from a poor family, a family of servants. The nobility seemed to follow you everywhere you went, mocking you at your attempts to gain status, but you eventually gained the status of nobility by buying yourself a baronship. Yet they still mocked your modest birth and continued on as if you weren't even there."

He shouldn't know this! How could he possibly know this? The only one who she had told was that drunken sot, Dominigo... "He wouldn't have...?"

"My report says it only took two bottles of Kinian brandy to reveal that and much more, Olivia."

Nevada felt faint, indeed both Rades and Waytorn reached out to help steady her. Her name. Her real name. Her real name. Dominigo had told them her real name! If he was here right now she was certain she'd strangle him to death. Why was it her past always seemed to come back to haunt her? "Dios help me," she moaned in Escherten.

"Perhaps we should discuss this back at Wynic's?" Rades suggested. "It will be getting dark by the time we get back to Athex."

"You're right. By the way, Olivia," said Waytorn using her real name again, "you are now a prisoner of the state, thanks to the officer status King Willium has granted me in addition to my royal pardon for my services during Kobalix's Quest and the Ice War. If you want I can read you your rights but I'd prefer to get going. The mosquitoes on the plains can be a real pest during the late day of summer."

Sleeping like a baby, thought Nyxa, absently stroking the hair on her employer's chest. It was silent moments like this that she found true joy in. Seeing the contented grin on her employers face. If it weren't for a couple small facts this would have been like any other day. Today her alignment had changed, or had it? She'd always been allied with Waytorn, it's just that she'd chosen him over West. The second point was that she was aboard the trireme Overlord spying for Waytorn, and the third point was that her employer wasn't a man, but a minotaur.

First Mate Chekhov was a big brute of a minotaur and the fourth time in the past year that her services had been hired out to a minotaur. It was always an unusual experience, minotaurs didn't love in the same way humans did, humans seemed more compassionate when they did it, Chekhov just did it and that was the end of it. Or maybe all that grunting and growling was the way minotaurs displayed compassion in bed. She knew that a minotaur grinning was sometimes frightening experience, so why wouldn't the way they express compassion be different. Now that she thought about it, she'd never seen a minotaur couple kiss, or maybe that was because minotaur spouses were selected at birth and to make love meant to breed.

Minotaur culture was very different she realized thoughtfully. In the Empire there were no definite classes because minotaurs were deliberately bred between classes to prevent inbreeding and thus retardation. The only exception was the monarchy where they checked to make sure the Empress was a genius and not related to the royal family in any way. Prince Nebonex's fiancee was said to be a minotauress from the minotaur isles where almost everyone was lower class.

Her thoughts were interrupted as she heard voices from above. Getting out of the gently swinging hammock, it had been an interesting experience to make love in a hammock, she stood on her toes and listened carefully. One of the voices she recognized, it was West's, which meant Waytorn would be paying her now. She holded her breath as she listened, carefully memorizing it all. When she heard the sound of West's boots walking away she began to slip into her clothes.

Technically, she wasn't even supposed to be on board, the minotaurs were very strict about who was let on board and huminotaur breeding as it was called was supposed to be punishable by death. The grotesque half-breed between the two races was considered an abomination of the true minotaur and were usually put to death, not that it mattered. Humanitaurs can't reproduce, just like when a donkey and a horse are bred to produce a jack-ass, which can't reproduce. Thus the route for any whores with enough courage to risk their lives by going into the sailor barracks is through one of the portholes.

If the captain of the Overlord had seen her just then he would have wrung her neck without a second thought. Chekhov had said the captain was very old fashioned and believed in Kobalix's teachings about how minotaurs were a supreme race and that the disease called humans should be wiped out. Waytorn had warned her that to watch out for the Kobalix Cult, and this fit.

It was a shame she didn't recognize the dusty soot-like smell of charcoal or known that it was an important ingredient of black dirt. She might have reconsidered going down south street where she knew they were unloading the kegs of their cargo to investigate the fire down that way. She might have lived through the explosion and been able to warn Princess Kelly that West planned to kidnap her with the aid of the crew from the Overlord.

Mathex nearly bumped the container of nitroglycerin when he heard the explosion in the distance. Taking a deep breath he stood up and looked around his laboratory. To have bumped that thing would have caused the place to go up in a fireball perhaps as big as the one he'd just heard coming from the docks. His mind itself went through his memories of the battle at Kobalix's Lair with shocking detail of the faces of comrades just before they'd been blown to kingdom come.

That explosion down he'd just heard was very familiar and his mind told him he should almost be able to smell carbon and sulphur in the air. But he didn't. He smelled bacon and roasting corn from the Drunken Dragon Tavern down the street.

He set down his blue prints for a steam-powered ship and decided it was time he go talk to the Doxon's in their estate down the street. It was well past time they sat down for one of those discussions they needed so desperately right now. Everything seemed to be leaning towards the destruction of Athex.

A crowd of people had gathered in Wynic's study to soothe the worried assassin. Present was Pothax, Bren, Larel and her marines, Waytorn, Redhawk, Wynic, of course, Rades, Princess Kelly, Johann, Rodrigo and Mathex noted with some surprise, Lady Nevada and one of her henchmen. There were also two young women and a knight who the minotaur didn't recognize who Dame Larel introduced. "This is Phiona, Lady Rebeka, and Lord Moffat, who King Willium sent to watch over Nevada and Terencio," she said, gesturing to the two captives.

Mathex nodded and glanced at Wynic with sympathy. "I think it's time to discuss the crisis on our hands gentlemen, ladies," he said with a nod at Larel and Princess Kelly. "How many of you heard the explosion half a hour ago?"

"We all did," replied Redhawk soberly. "I wasn't even inside the city at the time, yet I still heard it. How bad is it?"

"I estimate about fifty to eighty people killed, several hundred injured. The explosion left a crater the size of the park next door," Mathex said, pointing out the window for emphasis. You could see all of the park from Wynic's study and there was a fair bit of it. Five acres to be exact.

One of the marines whistled. Mathex smiled sadly at the man. "I investigated the waterfront after the explosion and learned about a trireme called the Overlord. The most likely source of the black dirt. I could smell the stuff from the docks."

"Did you smell anything else?" asked Rodrigo. "A putrid smell sort of like tobacco?" Nevada and Terencio looked up.

"Uh, if I did I don't remember it. Why?"

"There is a drug that comes from the south, called cannabis," Nevada spoke up. "I outlawed it when I came to power in Cherte, because the people who sold it tended to become addicted to it and that was bad for business."

Waytorn nodded slowly. "Same here. I believe what Rodrigo is trying to point out is that now that I'm no longer enforcing that law, the drug traders have decided to restart the business. Unfortunately, I also suspect West might be making some deals with the captain of the Overlord. The Overlord provides West with the cannabis, and West sells it for a profit. We might want to look into overthrowing West and putting Nevada on the throne." Nevada looked up.

The door opened and Larry entered. He stood there in the doorway, looking around at everyone staring at him as he drank from the neck of a brandy bottle. "What'cha lookin' at?" he slurred. No one had expected Larry to suddenly appear like that, but that wasn't what they were looking at. In the hallway behind the half drunk cutthroat, as silent as shadows were a small army of cutthroats. He turned around to see what they were looking at and was hit over the head with the hilt of a sword.

The cutthroat fell to the floor just in time for Rodrigo's francisca to go flying overhead and sever the intruder's head from his shoulders. There were startled shouts of surprise from both the study and the hallway as the two groups merged. A small army within the study trying to get out and a small army outside trying to get in.

Every warrior who has military training understands that when trouble emerges their training seems to gain control and keep the person from panicking. For the last several years Brenda had been given the most rigorous training that anyone has ever had. She had been taught in every city and institution across the continent. A halberd previously hung on a wall rack appeared in her hands and she charged over the semi-comatose form of Larry with apparent hap-hazard care to her own safety.

Wynic and the other's followed quickly, the marine's quick movement startling the intruders' and giving the companions a chance to vacate the study. Only about half of them were armed and those few pressed forward to guard the backs of others as they made their way down the hallway towards Wynic's war room. Wynic's stock of weapons was somewhat meager but of good quality.

Rades, being at the forefront with Nevada's sword in hand, was handling his opponents like an perfectionist like Lord Moffat beside him; Swift and deadly. A year ago he would have already been lying dead on the floor. Dillard training him and being in the Ice War last winter had hardened him into a skilled killer. To say nothing of the training Johann and Rodrigo had gave him.

Brenda narrowly avoided a cut to her neck and brought her halberd up to catch the her opponent's sword hilt between the axe blade and spear point. She wrenched the blade free of the man and drove the butt into the man's stomach before punching him in the neck with her palm. The man fell to the floor, gagging. The move was one of the first she'd learned from a Kalarippayat Instructor in Evicoth. She hadn't broken his neck, but collapsed his windpipe, in a minute or so he would suffocate.

A bulky minotaur strode over the gagging man, waving a cutlass warily. This was interesting, thought Brenda, who hadn't stopped to think why these people had invaded Wynic's home. The minotaur before her was a sailor judging from the kilt, cutlass and bandoleer.

The minotaur took a sudden jump forward, slashing at her with his cutlass. She ducked to the side and received a kick to the head. With a curse, she dropped to her knees and rolled. The minotaur also had been taught Kalarippayat!

The minotaur strode forward confidently now as Brenda got to her feet groggily. she spat and planted the halberd on the floor in front of her like a highjumper at the Summerfest Games and kicked at the minotaur with both feet. The minotaur sidestepped easily and the marine crashed to the floor beside his feet. An bad turn of events this was. Now she was on the floor with no weapon and he was above her with a cutlass already posed for the strike.

When all else fails, wrestle, she recalled an instructor once saying. Armed combat is too offensive to properly defend against a wrestling maneuver. With that in mind, she rolled forward, wrapped both arms around the minotaurs thighs and stood. His feet wrenched out from underneath him, the minotaur's upper torso crashed to the floor. She snatched a dagger from her belt and drove it into her opponent's throat. The sailor was far too stunned to resist.

Rades jumped over the marine's unguarded back and stabbed a minotaur through the heart. He realized immediately that to take over for Brenda was a bigger job than he'd expected and knew with dismay that Nevada's shortsword couldn't handle it. He dropped the blade and drew Dillard's longsword from the sheath strapped to his back.

The huge sword was heavy, but a month of carrying it on his back had made Rades used to it's weight. Taking the hilt in both hands he parried a stab from a Goban wielding minotaur. The Goban was a special weapon designed by the minotaur Mathex and was now a widely popular weapon/tool. It was longer than a longsword, but had a tip like a harpoon and no crossbar. It could be used as a harpoon or a longsword, just like a halberd could be used like an axe, spear or staff. "Ah, Brenda?"

The marine grunted in reply.

"Would you mind if we trade for a minute?"

In reply the marine tossed the halberd to him and went forward barehanded into the fray. Shrugging, the Graf dropped the longsword and jabbed at the minotaur with the spear point. The minotaur backed off and brought the Goban down in a heavy overhead swing. Rades deflected it with the flat of the axe blade, and drove the butt of the halberd into the minotaur's knee. There was an audible crack as the minotaur's leg snapped backwards, it's knee cap broken. The axe head came down and ended the minotaur's agony.

The number of people in the hallway had gone down dramatically. Sometime during the fight Derick had come out of Victoria's room and was now lying unconscious much like Larry. Rades glanced at where the cutthroat had fallen in the doorway of the study. Larry was no longer there. Where could...?

A scream rang through the entire house as Victoria screamed. He had assumed that to be the screams of someone dying but now realized it to be Victoria herself in labor. Rades would never forget that scream, or the way he had wanted to laugh.

"Don't call me Vicky!!"