"Wynic Doxon to see Lord Blackaxe."

"How do I know you're Wynic Doxon?" asked the burly guard. He sneered down at the assassin.

"How do you know I'm not?'

"Prove it."

The assassin sighed. He really hated it when people didn't believe him. It was so annoying. "How do I prove that? Think man, am I supposed to assassinate someone to prove it?" Wynic snorted. "Well, if the name doesn't work, maybe the uniform will," he muttered under his breath.

Taking off his dirty traveling cloak, Wynic revealed the uniform. "Wynic Doxon of the Royal Arthian Army, if you don't stand aside, I'll make you," he threatened.

"What's your rank?"

Wynic swore under his breath. The four-star insignia meant General in any army, yet the soldier was deliberately acting stupid. That's one thing Wynic hated about the army, they were mostly uniformed bullies. "What do you think?" he asked, drawing his shortsword.

"Hey!"

Wynic hesitated and looked to the guard who had spoken.

A huge man with a great red beard and dark curly, red hair, rode up on a warhorse. "What's the problem here Lieutenant?" he asked in a gruff voice.

"This man claims to be Wynic Doxon. He's wearing an Arthian uniform," explained the burly guard. "He-"

"Actually, I'm a honourary general, normal officers don't have a silver spear embroidered on their tunic," Wynic interrupted.

"He wants to speak with the Lord personally," added the guard.

"Why not? I know Joachum quite well," said Wynic, using Blackaxe's first name.

"Wait here," ordered the horseman and rode away.

Several long minutes passed before he returned. "Wynic, follow me. I'm to take you to Lord Blackaxe," said the red-bearded horseman.

"Wynic mounted his horse and followed.

"Sorry for the inconvenience, Wynic. I'm Major Eluth of the Black Stornium Army. We're devoted to Lord Blackaxe's interests and we collect information concerning the Swathick Axe," recited the bearded man.

"Why does Blackaxe need information about it?" asked Wynic. Eluth was stalling and Wynic knew it.

"I thought you knew Blackaxe?"

"We've met many times, but I don't really know him."

"Oh. Well, anyway, Lord Blackaxe wants the Swathick Axe for his collection. If you get the chance, go see his war room."

Wynic had been to Castle Blackaxe before, and knew they were going the wrong way, especially when they passed the Belching Baron twice. "Thanks, I'll do that. Now why are you stalling? I'm not stupid, and I'd swear we went by the same tavern twice!" demanded Wynic, his hand going to his shortsword confidently.

Eluth thought for a moment, a bit startled. "Colonel Darl doesn't trust you. He instructed me to stall fur time and eventually lead you to an alley called Viewpoint. There you'd be shot by a crossbowman. Actually, I think Darl's off his rocker, either that or he's drunk again. Though I'd hab noticed it if he was."

"Well, then here," said Wynic unbuckling his shortsword and handing it to Eluth. Drawing his bastardsword, he handed it to Eluth handle first. "Next my daggers, I'd set my swords down, because I've got quite a few daggers," suggested Wynic, starting at his boots and working up. "Now you can take me to the brigadier so I can surrender to him," he said, handing over another pile of daggers.

Eluth was thoroughly shocked by Wynic's manner, plus huge the number of daggers. It took him a while to decide what to do. "Okay, I'll take you to the brigadier," he said uneasily.

"Why?" asked the brigadier, standing up.

Wynic briefly described the situation and was surprised when the brigadier laughed.

"It was Darl, richtig?" guessed the brigadier. His voice was thickly accented with Old Stornium.

"Yes. Has this happened before?"

"Darl did that once with Lord Blackaxe, he's lucky he wasn't demoted, let alone executed for treason! Dis time we'll change dat!"

"Seize him," the brigadier ordered.

"What?" squealed Darl.

"This man is an impostor. Darl isn't that doofe ta plan an attack on the Paladin Assassin!" said the brigadier. "And if he is, seize him anyway. Stupid colonels are dead colonels when they commit treason!"

"What?" screamed Darl as his own men seized his arms. He struggled vainly.

"Major Eluth, you will take the place of Darl until we find the colonel's body," the brigadier ordered, ignoring Darl's wailing.

"How Darl ever became a colonel, I'll never know. In the mean time I'll escort you to Blackaxe," said the brigadier. "Mein name ist Roreed, und I'm honoured to meet you. My son adores your stories. Would you care to stay at my somewhat humble house for the night, the boy might ask a lot of questions, but you might enjoy it."

"I'd enjoy it, Roreed."

"Wynic, what are you doing here?" exclaimed Blackaxe. He crossed his huge arms, and furrowed his black eyebrows.

Wynic managed a weak smile before the imposing knight. "I came at the request of King Willium. We badly need your army's help," replied the assassin.

"I'm sorry, Wynic, but my army's waiting for my order to head out to sea to search for the Swathick Axe."

"Is the Axe worth more to you than five million lives, maybe more?"

"Yes, it is. If I know where it was, I'd help you, but in the meantime I have to find that Axe."

"For some collection?" scoffed Wynic.

"Is that what people say? It's not for a collection, it's for a dream. It's the one thing, the one hope that keeps me from being trampled in battle or in life," growled Blackaxe. "If you want to get me to help, you help me find that Axe," he said, tossing a scrap of parchment at Wynic.

The parchment had a 'V' beside a '2' with a '+' above it scrawled on it. "What's this?" asked Wynic, holding it up. It looked vaguely familiar to the far traveled assassin.

"A retired fisherman claimed that he knew where the Axe was. When he died just several days ago, he scrawled that down. He said it would tell the exact location of the ship carrying the Axe went down. I can't figure the damn thing out!" spat Blackaxe, leaving and slamming the door behind him.

Wynic sighed loudly, and studied the parchment in the empty study.

"Savin!"

The burly pirate captain looked around half expecting an army to be crouched behind him ready to spring. His head was shaved completely, and he had a gold ring imbedded in his cheek. He had dangerously flashing eyes, and a crooked grin.

"Savin," Wynic repeated.

"Wynic Doxon," shouted Savin, jumping up. "I haven't seen you in a hound's age! Where've been?"

"Almost everywhere, except the Minotaur Empire," answered the red-haired assassin, sitting down in a barstool beside Savin.

"You don't want to go there now do you? They have their fleet patrolling their waters east of here. Ye know, what with this war going on, and all. Barkeep," he yelled. "Bring my friend here some of your best, and don't try watering it down, heez not dee friendly sort!"

Wynic laughed and remembered his last encounter with the jovial pirate. "Say, how's your sister?" he asked.

"Six feet below, face down, god curse her!" growled Savin.

"How'd you get rid of her? You kept bugging me to kill her!"

"I didn't have a thing to do with it. She fell off her horse," laughed the pirate smiling at the memory. Wynic snorted. "Let's skip this, Wynic. You never come looking for me unless it means trouble!"

"How'd you guess?"

"I trust mein instincts. What do you want?"

"Take me to this place," Wynic said, handing the Stornium the piece of parchment Blackaxe had given him.

"Hmm. Two leagues south of Castle Verd. Why do you wanna go there?" asked Savin.

"I didn't even know where it was!" protested Wynic. "How'd you figure it out?"

"It's an old way of navigating. Sort of like Vormian numerals. Nobody's used it much for over seven hundred years," explained Savin.

"That makes sense. I got it from an old man, so he probably wasn't used to modern navigation," Wynic half-lied.

"What's it lead to?"

"A sunken Vormian ship. And you know how much metal those usually have! I figured we could split it."

"Deal," agreed Savin. "It's better and safer than raiding merchant ships and risking getting caught by a patrol galley," he laughed.

"Savin, I do believe you're getting yellow!"

"I'm afraid it's bedtime," said Roreed sternly. He frowned at his son though his eyes shone happily.

"Please, one more story?" pleaded the boy. His eyes shone happily and his face was joyous. Wynic couldn't refuse.

"Okay, but come here and sit in my lap," said Roreed. "Will this story be scary, Wynic? I wouldn't want to get nightmares!" he said with a wink.

Wynic grinned. "Very scary."

"Well, then I'll need someone to hug me so I don't get scared, won't I?" said Roreed, picking up his son and setting him on his lap.

"You're not scared, are you?" asked the boy.

"Of course not!"

Wynic smiled. He unconsciously wished for the life the boy led. So carefree and unmarred by the harshness in the world. "One night, Redhawk and I were going through an old aspen forest up north and we came upon an abandoned castle. We were sleepy and decided to take shelter in the castle. However when I woke up the next morning..." Wynic stopped to look at the sleeping boy.

"Shh," whispered Roreed, silently taking his son to another room and returning with a bottle of brandy. "How's the story end?"

"It doesn't. I was making it up," grinned Wynic. "He'd have been very disappointed that I wasn't as great as he thought I was."

"How do ye know yer not?"

"Let's go. What are we waiting for?" asked Wynic impatiently.

"My first mate. He's the only one in my crew I can trust. This line of work is often victim to mutiny," replied Savin.

"Ich bin hier Captain," yelled a youthful man from the port side of the ship. His accent was more than heavy, almost completely old Stornium.

"What were you doing? Swimming?" yelled the pirate captain.

"Vas else vould Ich be doing?"

"Why I oughta! Get this damn ship moving ye smart aleck! Now!"

"Okay, let's geht gehen. Untie the ship from the dock and raise the anchor. I vantta slide past that patrol vessel out there so fast they von't be able to count how many sails wir habe," yelled the first mate, sailors instantly hastening to follow his orders.

"He shows remarkable leadership qualities," commented Wynic. "Though his accent is very thick."

The sails were raised and the riggings tied in what Wynic thought must have been record time for such a large ship. The Crescent Moon was about sixty-five feet long, twenty feet wide and an extraordinary five masts, other ships near by had only two or three masts. As always, Wynic wondered at how such a simple thing as a ship could possess a man's soul like the Crescent Moon possessed Savin's.

But then Savin's father and Savin himself had built the ship. It had broken Savin's and his father's heart when his father had been forced to sell it. So when Savin noticed the Crescent Moon in a harbour, he and several shipmates decided to steal it back. It had become a heirloom of sorts.

Wynic sighed and went down below the deck to have a drink with Savin.