Imperium

© 2019 Jon Smith

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

ISBN: 978-1-54-398090-5

Imperium

(A recent history of the Empire of Pilth Rabour)

Part I – The North (Revolution)

Part II – The West (Guild War)

Part III – The East (Prophecy)

Part IV – The South / Capitol (Treason)

By Jon Smith

Illustrations by Neil Gurung

Map by Dustin Otwell

Table of Contents

Part I – The North (Revolution)

PRINCIPLE CHARACTERS

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

VII

VIII

IX

X

XI

XII

XIII

XIV

XV

XVI

XVII

XVIII

XIX

XX

XXI

XXII

XXIII

XXIV

XXV

XXVI

XXVII

XXVIII

XXIX

XXX

XXXI

XXXII

XXXIII

XXXIV

XXXV

XXXVI

XXXVII

XXXVIII

XXXIX

XXXX

Part II – The West (Guild War)

PRINCIPLE CHARACTERS

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

VII

VIII

IX

X

XI

XII

XIII

XIV

XV

XVI

XVII

XVIII

XIX

XX

XXI

XXII

XXIII

Part III – The East (Prophecy)

PRINCIPLE CHARACTERS

I

II

III

IV

VI

VII

VIII

IX

X

XI

XII

XIII

XIV

XV

XVI

XXVII

XXVIII

Part IV – The South / Capitol (Treason)

PRINCIPLE CHARACTERS

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

VII

VIII

IX

X

XI

XII

XIII

XIV

XV

XVI

XVII

XVIII

XIX

XX

XXI

Part I – The North (Revolution)

PRINCIPLE CHARACTERS

Anihe, Paig – Halfling, Emperor of Pilth Rabour

Blackstone, Liet – Imperial Protector, leader of the Order Of The Imperial Rose

Bruce, Erand – retired Imperial Army Captain and Senior Judge for the Northern Colonies

Dernolt, Tumalc – Dwarf, recluse and retired assassin

Haidenfoot, Dermot – Half Elf, vagabond and retired assassin

Imgroot, Drexel – old alias used by Dermot Haidenfoot

Jangis, Athnor – 9th Supreme Palladian Knight Commander, head of Paladin Knights

Jangis, Quathnor – son of Athnor, Palladian Knight Commander, 2nd in command       

Kaya, Nayhanna – emergency medic working in gold mines in the city of Intervine

Klustov, Alexiev - Rose Knight Of The Red Garland, 2nd in command to Liet Blackstone

Manulaius, Ozias Dromhoul – headmaster of magic school Mage D’Escholaire

Oligia, Xanda’ar – elderly merchant and message courier for the Nightshade Guild

Orak, Bloth – Orc, Major in charge of Command Tactical Unit #3

Pennington, Alexandros – influential duke in the royal court of Pilth Rabour

Quathillia, Rainwater – High Elf, head of state security for the empire of Pilth Rabour

Rasmus – Captain in the Imperial Army

Ravenwing – General in charge of the Armies of Pilth Rabour

Riidczt, Samdal – alias of Duke Alexandros Pennington

Singh, Boryni – Rose Knight Of The Red Garland, 2nd in command to Liet Blackstone

Singh, Palamir – orphaned nephew of Boryni Singh, called Pal

Singh, Pennamir – orphaned niece of Boryni Singh, called Pen

Stonengine, Jack – Dwarf, chief engineer for the Dwarven Army

Sweetgrass, Deedliana – Halfling, child orphan roaming the wilderness alone

Tsi, Midorica – non-human, mage in the Green Robe Order

Tweed, Halfwater – Halfling, merchant living in Intervine

Vascus, Androtine – battlemage in the Imperial Army

Veltgar – Orc, Corporal in Command Tactical Unit #3

Vittenmore, Lorna – Commanding General of VI Corps of the Paladin Knights

I

It was late summer in the Empire of Pilth Rabour.  The days were cloudless and scorching.  The vagrant loner Dermot Haidenfoot was leaving the town of Evanor for nowhere in particular. Certainly murder wasn’t on his list of things to do today.  Dermot Haidenfoot was a Half Elf with a dark tan from years of walking under the sun.  The noonday sun was unusually hot; so Dermot was taking the back alleys and roads to avoid it as much as possible.  He stopped and rested on a dusty crate in a dirty side alley that dumped off into the livestock corrals.  A woman’s panicked scream pierced the stifling air and just as quickly went silent.  A moment later a pair of well-dressed children came sprinting around the corner.  One was a boy around ten and the other was a girl around eight.  Fear filled their eyes.

Help! they wailed.

Dermot placed a steadying hand on the girl.  Both children stopped running.

Everything is going to be alright, Dermot reassured them.  Now what is going on?  What are you running from?

Before they could answer a trio of town watch rounded the corner and with them was an angry Lieutenant from the Black Guard.  He was splattered with blood.  The Black Guardsman was the real authority here, wearing the black velvet tunic of the imperial policing service of the Empire of Pilth Rabour.  Only the affluent qualified for service.

Tucking the children behind him Dermot halted their pursuers, mindful to keep his hands away from the sword and dagger hanging from his belt.  Having had more than a few brushes with the empire’s law enforcement officers in the past he wasn’t eager to bring up bad blood, just yet.  The Lieutenant was so focused on the children that he failed to notice the subtle warning of danger given off by anyone putting themselves between a Black Guardsman and his quarry.

Stand aside, vagrant, the Black Guardsman haughtily commanded.  These brats are to be relocated as punishment for their parents’ crimes.  Everyone knew it was an outright lie.  Having said his piece he moved to shove the vagrant aside.

With lightning reflexes Dermot drew his weapons, cleanly cleaved the Black Guardsman’s sword hand and then pierced his chest.  The Lieutenant stared unbelieving at Dermot and then slumped to the ground dead.  After a moment of disbelief, the town guard drew their swords and charged in.  Hoping to minimize the trouble he’d just jumped in to, the Half Elf expertly brushed them aside, deliberately causing only minimal physical injury. 

Turning, Dermot scooped up his pack and the children.  He then ran towards the corrals.  Touching an amulet around his neck a rainbow colored magical barrier appeared between the guards and themselves preventing authorities from continuing to give chase.  A piercing alarm sounded from behind.  It came from the magical bracelet worn by the now dead Lieutenant indicating a Black Guardsman had been killed.  He knew that the town guards were not allowed to pursue criminals outside of town and that once beyond the cow lots they’d be beyond their legal reach, but no such restrictions applied to the Black Guard who would be on search and destroy orders now.

They ran until they were over five miles outside of town before pausing to catch their breath.  All about them was the magnificent view of golden wheat fields and lush green cattle pastures.  However, none of them was enjoying the spectacular landscape.  Cutting across rolling green hills, open pasture country and avoiding roads had saved them from any further entanglements so far, but he knew their luck wouldn’t hold out forever and the children couldn’t keep running eternally.  He mentally listed the options at hand.

1 – Surrender and hope it could be cleaned up as a misunderstanding 

Probable outcome - Death

2 – Keep running

Probable outcome – Discovery, torture, and then death

3 – Tumalc Dernolt

Probable outcome – Listening to a lifetime’s worth of Dwarven drinking tales while wishing for the outcome in choice 2

He and Tumalc were once members of the Nightshade Guild.  A millennia old assassin group that acted independently of any governing authority, the Nightshade Guild was responsible for thousands of assassinations.  They killed anyone for the right price.  That price was usually too high for anyone but the richest to afford, though.  The retired Tumalc now resided in a very out-of-the-way country villa and kept to himself.  They turned to the West and started to jog in the direction of Tumalc’s manor.  After taking scrupulous care not to be seen and many double backs they finally arrived about two hours before sunrise.  The grand estate sat overlooking a nearly grown over lake.  The house looked in desperate need of repair.  All of the paint had peeled away.  The shingles were long gone and large holes dotted the sagging rotten roof.  Most of the windows had broken panes.  The garden along the side of the house had long since gone wild and overgrown with weeds.  It looked as if no one had lived there for years.  Just the way he had remembered it. 

The exhausted children saw it, lost heart and cried.  Dermot took them by the hand and led them to a brick wall by the cellar door.  He rapped on it like he was tapping out a code.  Three quick, one hard, two quick and one snap of the fingers.  To the children’s surprise the wall vanished revealing an ornately carved stone staircase leading down.  The stair was illuminated with oil lamps every ten feet for as far as the eyes could see.  The stair was also lined with an exquisitely carved and bejeweled relief on each side depicting famous battles in Dwarven history.

They entered and began to descend.  Dermot discretely tapped the first lamp returning the magical wall behind them.  After five minutes of stairs they reached the bottom where they were less than cordially greeted by five heavily armed, muscular Dwarves.  Each held a crossbow leveled toward them.  One of them spoke in a deep clear baritone voice that seemed to be devoid of the usually husky gravel that is typical in Dwarves.  Why have you come here?  How did you find your way in?  And why should you be allowed to live?

You know who I am and how I got in.  I have come seeking Tumalc Dernolt’s advice and help.  These children are in need of his help, too.  The Black Guards have killed their parents and hope to kill them.  Getting to kill one of those pompous thugs was an opportunity I wasn’t going to miss, Dermot stiffly replied.  Then in a more congenial voice he added, Now can we dismiss the bull my old friend?

Four of the Dwarven guards instantly vanished in a shower of silver and gold sparkles, including the one doing the talking.  The one in the back remained, but he was beaming now.  My old friend, you have been through much.  Come and bring your traveling companions there, for I have much more talk to be had. But first a beer and some rest for you two I should think, he said while giving each of them a great big hug.  Tumalc’s voice had all gruffness of the Dwarves.  His manners contained all of the warmth and famous hospitality Dwarves show to kin and dear friends.  The children began to relax as they found their way into an ornate room with a perpetual running bath and a large soft bed. 

They left the children on their own and headed down the hall.  Dermot then began to relate in detail the whole of the story involving his dealings with the children.  Together they passed on news to each other over many pints.  Amongst other news, Tumalc had much to tell about the conflicts to the North. 

Tumalc said, It seems that the Paladin Knights, who were the just and elite guard of the prior empire, have managed to form a tenuous alliance with the ancient freelance group The Order Of The Imperial Rose.  They claim to be the original defenders of the original empire from millennia past.  You know them, Boryni’s group. He said the last sentence conspiratorially.  Tumalc pressed on without waiting for Dermot to interject, Neither side had ever sought an alliance since both wanted to return their own respected empires to power.  Something has happened to make them finally realize that the current empire can’t be removed by one organization alone or with a series of disorganized attacks.  Tumalc then paused to drain his mug of ale.  He switched topics and began retelling old news from the city of Intervine.

II

There was a bitter wind blowing across the cliff overlooking a great glacier of ice.  Two lone figures could be made out on top despite being exposed to the elements.  They were the Supreme Palladian Knight Commander Athnor Jangis and his son, the heir to the highest position in the Paladin Knights, Palladian Knight Commander Quathnor Jangis.  Athnor was a hard and just man, who was well respected by all.  Quathnor was just a hard man, who was feared by all. 

He’s late.  Can’t that imbecile of a man be on time for any of our appointments?

Giving a gentle smile the older man placed a steadying hand on his son’s powerful shoulder.  Patience.  It is the key to understanding your friends as well as your enemies.

Why do we deal with this rabble?  What possible advantage can they give us?  Their own members question the right of their leader to lead.

Patience.  We shall soon see if this alliance is worth the effort.  At the very least it has spurred on fear amongst the nearby empire colonies.  It will make them easier to take and thus increase our appearance of greater power to the callous and pretentious fools in charge of the current empire.

…

Struggling up a steep and rocky path were two other figures wrapped in black winter coats that came down below their knees.  The heavy woolen coats were trimmed with brilliant red piping.  The two men were members of the Order Of The Imperial Rose.  They were no less personages than Imperial Protector Liet Blackstone and his second in command Alexiev Klustov.

Tell me sir, do you think we can trust the Paladins?  Alexiev asked while turning up his collar to fight off the bitter wind.

To keep their word?  No, but we can trust them to behave in a certain predictable manner.  This is more reliable and useful to us.  Tell me Klustov, as one of my second in command, how is our little disinformation campaign going?

Alexiev Klustov was only one of two people currently holding the second most important title in the order, Rose Knight Of The Red Garland.  Klustov thought it an overly elaborate title for a guy whose duties in peace were more like an aide-de-camp and in war a senior ranking general.

Yes sir, they believe that we are having trouble within our ranks.  I have even let it slip that whoever your successor will be is in considerable doubt.  I have also discretely probed to see if they know or believe about our prophecies.  They gave no indication that they do.

The ruler of the order, Imperial Protector Of The Rose Liet Blackstone, smiled.  Tell me what you know of the prophecy.

Sir, the prophecy says that our order shall return to power when the Star of Paladin falls.  It is very vague, but I must believe that a great many people felt our time had come when the Paladins were removed from power.

I believe a great many did.  I, however, have a different take on it.  Many centuries ago at the formation of the Paladin Knights the original title for their leader was the Star of Paladin.  Upon hearing of our prophecy and fearing assassination the title was soon after changed.  While we don’t agree on rulers, the Paladin Knights have always been honorable.  I believe that our prophecy referred to a fall from honor not power.  I also believe that the time is near.  Their heir is a ruthless, dishonorable young man.  When Quathnor succeeds Athnor they will fall from honor.  We already know they have fallen from power.  We will be there to fill the void.  Also, our ranks have always been kept to 200,000 knights.  Do you know why?

It is how many years we must wait to return to power and why the unseating of the Paladins was not our time.  But sir, no one knows exactly how long it has been.

Correct and wrong, Alexiev.  You are correct about the years and the Paladins, but I know, as all the Imperial Protectors before me have, exactly how many years are left. This is how I know that our return to glory is imminent.  At the end of this year it will be exactly 200,000 years.  But enough for now, we are nearly there.

III

It was late afternoon before the kids emerged in search of food.  They found Dermot and Tumalc sitting at the head of a long stone table in the dining room.  The walls were covered with ornate tapestries depicting famous Dwarven legends, none of which the two children were familiar with. 

Welcome young masters.  I see you have recovered a bit.  Now come, eat and tell me your story.  Dermot and I were wondering if you two would every get up, beamed the Dwarf. 

They sat down and were promptly supplied with plates of salt cured ham and roasted potatoes.  Forgetting their manners they ate greedily, as if they hadn’t eaten in sometime and didn’t know when they would again.

After they had finished the boy looked up and said, I’m Palamir and my sister is Pennamir.  Our parents just called us Pal and Pen, though.  My mother and father are Iliana and Sandhir Singh.  We own a little supply shop in the town of Evanor. 

At the sound of their parents’ names Tumalc started.  He had to ask the next questions to verify his suspicions.  Was your father’s father Praetor Amji Singh and is your uncle Boryni Singh?

Now it was the child’s turn to look surprised.  How did you know that?

I knew your grandfather and I have briefly met your uncle.  What he didn’t say was that many years ago on his last mission he had assassinated their grandfather in the name of the Nightshade Guild and that their uncle had tried to stop him.  Nor did he mention that their uncle was now one of two Rose Knights Of The Red Garland.  Fate had sure turned the tables on him.  Do you have any relations in this part of the country?  Maybe we could take you there.  The last thing Tumalc wanted to do was to meet Boryni Singh again.  The kids didn’t know about them, but Boryni had sworn to kill him on sight.  Bringing him his orphaned niece and nephew wasn’t likely to endear him in his heart.

No, we don’t have anyone.  Pal reached into his pocket and fished out a folded piece of parchment. My mother handed me this blank piece of paper and asked us to give it to our uncle.  The problem is we don’t know where he is or how to find him.

Dermot spoke this time.  We know where your uncle is, but he will be very difficult to get to.  He lives far from here working as a… well I guess a soldier.  No, a crusader is more like it.  He is a very important man and reaching him will be hard, but if you have nowhere else to go we’ll take you to meet him.

Pen piped in, I want to go.  Don’t you Pal?

Pal nodded his consent. 

Tumalc clapped his hands. Well that’s decided.  Now we need to start packing in earnest.  It’ll be winter soon.

Pal was a little perplexed by that since the days were still hot and autumn hadn’t even begun.  Dermot stepped in to answer the boy’s unasked question.

Winter comes much sooner and harsher in the far North.

Pal beamed.  Do you mean we are going into the wild untamed lands of dragons, rogue wizards, and Krysm?

Yes, but hopefully we won’t encounter any of them.  Dealing with them is extremely difficult even for a veteran warrior, let alone lost little travelers, he said with a smile.

Tumalc and Dermot left Palamir and Pennamir to eat while they stepped into the hall.  Gently closing the door Tumalc turned towards Dermot.

Boryni’s niece and nephew! the Dwarf roared.  Then in a much more controlled tone, Blank paper my beard!  You and I both know that’s no empty piece of parchment.  They’re spies.  Tumalc spat out the word spies as if it were some foul bite of food.  Couldn’t you have saved anyone else instead?

Dermot was quick to placate.  Don’t worry.  We both know how to easily dodge the empire’s agents.  We’ve done it countless times.  And when the time comes I’ll go and do the dropping off.  By the time Boryni finds out you were involved we’ll both be long gone.

The Dwarf sighed in resignation.  Alright, but this needs to be done properly, grumbled Tumalc.  We’ll need at least a week to gather up the necessary supplies and to give those pond scum Black Guards a chance to find someone else to harass.  I don’t want this to be like that debacle on the shores of Mirror Lake.  You didn’t even bring a sword on that mission!

IV

The Imperial seat of power was in the city of Providence.  Providence was a sprawling city that sat at the junction of the two great rivers of the empire.  Rainwater Quathillia was the Elf in charge of state security for the empire of Pilth Rabour.  Rainwater always dressed plainly wearing no jewelry.  She wore dull grey trousers, a faded light blue tunic and a dark grey cloak.  She looked out of place as she sat on a plush red velvet bench outside of the throne room.  She kept going over her notes, not that she needed them.  She had all of her talking points memorized and had a planned answer for nearly every question His Royal Highness Emperor Paig Anihe was likely to ask.  He was once an esteemed leader of the peoples, but his eccentricities seemed to have won over general rational thought.  Recently he accused a courtesan of being immortal and had her hung to prove her innocence.

Rainwater hadn’t decided, yet, whether to tell the emperor about the rumored developments to the North.  She was in intelligence and didn’t like to partake in rumor-mongering.  She decided not to tell him unless he asked.  Facts were easier to work with.

The great doors swung open and she was announced.  The throne room was a large hall.  The walls were gilded with gold leaf.  The sconces were exquisitely carved from amber.  Two massive chandeliers made from rose quartz hung overhead.  Several jewel encrusted doors lead to side corridors.  Each door was guarded by an armed officer in perfectly polished armor.  The only piece of furniture was the throne itself.  The golden seat was decorated with flawlessly cut rubies and blue sapphires.  The gleaming throne rested upon a mighty block of black granite in the middle of the room.  Stairs were carved into the granite to facilitate climbing into and out of the throne.  The floor of the room was polished white marble.

All hail, his royal highness the emperor.  I have come to serve, Rainwater Quathillia said more perfunctorily than enthusiastically.

Ah, Rain.  How good of you to keep our weekly meeting.  I have much to tell you for a change and hope that you can clear up some nonsense I’ve been hearing, responded Emperor Anihe.

Uh-oh she thought, he knows about the North.  She took a seat on the floor in front of the throne and waited to hear out the emperor prior to starting her own report.

Tell me Rainwater, as my head of state security have you heard about Duke Alexandros Pennington’s son’s death while trying to evict some deadbeats?

She relaxed a bit.  He seemed to be on steady ground today.  Highness, I am aware of the passing of the Duke’s son.  There might be more trouble about it than expected I fear.

Why?  It was just some common folk.  What harm could such weak peasants be to my throne?

No, your highness, according to the town guard the deceased Black Guard killed the parents without provocation.  Furthermore, they weren’t just two common folk.  They were the son of the late and rebellious Praetor Amji Singh and the son’s wife.  I’m also told that his children escaped the town guard with the help of a vagrant swordsman.  Further investigation leads us to believe that the Singh family were spies for someone.  Possibly the Order Of The Imperial Rose.  However, we don’t have solid proof, yet.  If you’ll remember Praetor Singh had two sons.  The other, Boryni, is believed to be a senior member of The Order Of The Imperial Rose.  If those kids are carrying information for him then they must be found.  If Boryni ever finds out what message those children are carrying then he will also know what happened to his family.  He could cause great unrest in that part of the country.  Sympathy for their cause has since been limited to outside our lands, but this could ignite a resistance effort within our borders.  I have sent my four Command Tactical Units to scour the countryside to find them.  I do this not out of reverence to the Duke’s idiot dead son, but in the name of the security of the empire, your majesty.

Emperor Paig Anihe flushed with anger.  The Halfling ruler jumped from the throne.  With a searing glare he barked, I will not be overthrown by a couple of kids.  Send every available agent to track them.  Get with General Ravenwing and start planning a campaign to finish that pretentious rag-tag order off.  The Paladins, too!  He then stormed out of the throne room before she could rise in deference.

V

Major Bloth Orak stopped his unit in the shade of the trees by a gurgling stream.  He loosened that straps of his armor plating to let out some of the trapped heat around his powerful and muscular body out.  Aside from his taut brown-green skin, two gleaming, razor sharp boar tusks protruding upward from his mouth and coal black eyes Major Orak had a searing intellect that made him the most effective agent in the empire.  His twenty Orc band comprised the whole of Command Tactical Unit #3 or CTU-3.  Sitting down with a map he and the others surveyed it and the countryside.  Tonight we’ll divide into our usual four squads.  Squad 1 will head into Evanor and scout out the Singh residence.  Squad 2 will cover from here to the town of Farmstead Orchards.  Don’t enter the town though.  CTU-2 has authority there.  Squad 3 will go south to the edge of the Amber Forest.  Stay alert.  There is more going on down there than little runaway kids.  I’ll take Squad 4 as far as the Dwarven mansion Tumalc Manor here.  Now get some rest.  I suspect it will be a busy night.  We’ll launch as soon as it’s dark and meet back here at first light.  No torches.  Use your instincts instead.  Any questions?

There were none.  The Major leaned back against the tree and thought, What is so important about these kids?  I saw nothing in the file to do with intelligence missions, illicit drugs, treason, or murder.  Just two kids, Palamir and Pennamir Singh.  Wasn’t Singh the name of an important counselor here?  Orak couldn’t remember.  He then let himself drift to sleep.

…

Tumalc dismissed the servant with an order that seemed to make the whole household busy and alive within minutes.  He went over to Dermot, Pal, and Pen.  I’m afraid there has been a change of plans.  Gruenlock, my eyes and ears on the outside world has informed me that the empire is looking for you all in desperate earnest.  We can ill afford to remain here any longer.  Come we must leave at once.  Then in an astonished whisper he told Dermot, They have the whole CTU after you guys.  All four teams.  I’ve never heard of anything like that.  Who are these kids and what have you gotten me into?

The group gathered again in ten minutes.  Dermot had his usual traveling gear.  He dressed in clothes someone else had thrown out and had worn the same travel-worn dark brown cloak for the last twenty years.  His only other possessions were his weapons, an empty worn out leather pack, a Druidic talisman, an amethyst amulet and a bronze ring on his right pinkie in the shape of a nightshade flower.

Tumalc was wearing a vicious looking armor.  A scratched and dented plate mail breast plate and plackart rested atop a full length chain mail shirt.  He wore two pauldrons covered with spikes and his couters each sported a wicked three pronged barb.  Tumalc’s gauntlets were littered with steel knobs.  His helm came down his flat misshapen nose and around his cheeks and ended in sharp points.  It was adorned with coiled ram’s horns. Beneath all that he wore woolen, traveling trousers and steel capped, leather boots.  A powerful war axe hung at his side.  The Dwarf wrapped himself in a brown traveling cloak. 

Pal and Pen each had shed their fine clothes.  Instead each wore undyed, plain woolen trousers, brown linen shirts, tan tunics and worn faded gray cloaks.  They looked like the kids of any common traveling merchant.

Once outside Tumalc dispelled the magical glamour door and began sealing up the hole with real bricks.  I’d bet they’ll be using magic detectors and I want my house to still be here when I come back.  CTU teams are said to operate in the dark hours.  In the middle of the night they’ll likely miss a well disguised, but conventionally sealed passageway.  My servants will remain behind this wall for a month before reopening it and reapplying the magical door.

Just then a pony drawn cart came around the corner.  He dismissed Gruenlock to resume his usual duties and everyone got in.  Tumalc drove the cart while the other three hid inside behind barrels of salted fish and beer.  The fish and beer were there to help mask the scent of the cart’s fugitive payload.  He turned onto the road and left behind his beloved manor as the sun dipped below the horizon.

…

It was nearly dark.  Only the fading glow of twilight remained.  Lingering in the bushes across from the manor Major Orak decided that the time had come.  Alright, let’s search this rat hole.  Corporal Veltgar, you patrol the perimeter with the magic detector while the rest of us clear the house.  Ready.  Go!

Quickly and quietly they moved across the yard.  With wraith-like stealth they took up their positions.  Then suddenly and viciously Major Orak kicked in the old rotten door of the house.  The silence was shattered.  The massive Orc bellowed orders as other Orcs tore through the house making no attempt to hide their coming.  Within minutes the house and grounds were declared clear of inhabitants.  Despite being reported as inhabited by a Dwarven recluse, the grounds didn’t look like anyone had been around for a great many years.  Collecting his team Major Orak started to head back across the road when he stopped. 

Corporal Veltgar said, What is it, sir?

There are wagon wheel trails leading from this house.  If no one has recently been here then these would have been washed away by the rain last week.  He paused and then decided to take action.  Corporal, go back and collect the other members of our unit.  Inform no one of what you are up to.  Bring the team to the Watchtower of Vorgnast.  The rest of you follow me.  Our quarry flies to the North.

Without waiting he took off in a terrific sprint in the direction of the wagon’s trail.  The others dutifully obeyed leaving Corporal Veltgar standing in the road watching them disappear into the deepening darkness.  He wondered how the Major could be so sure, and yet didn’t want any other CTU involved.  Waiting a moment longer, he then turned and headed back to the rally point to collect the rest of Command Tactical Unit-3.  It was going to be a long march to reach the northernmost outpost of the empire and he wasn’t looking forward to it at all.

VI

The sun was just starting to come up when Tumalc stopped the wagon on the side of the road.  They were on a stretch of road that cut through the tall grass of the wild and wide open plains.  Dermot stirred in the seat next to him.  He blinked and then squinted his eyes until they became adjusted to the fast dawning daylight.  He then stretched for a second and turned to Tumalc.

What is it?  Is it my turn to drive again, or do you see something ahead? Dermot had learned to trust the premonitions of the old Dwarf as they had saved his head on more than one occasion. 

Do you think we should keep to the roads?  We are still two days travel from the town of Crossroads, and the empire must surely have all the roads watched by now.  Those demonic Orc bands called Command Tactical Units won’t stop looking for us day or night for at least a week.  I’d naturally say cut across land and head for the mountain keep of my people at Om Daggor.  Of course, I’d recommend leaving the wagon to prevent creating an obvious trail, but do you think the kids can keep up a good pace under the brutal day sun.  I wouldn’t dare stop for more than a few minutes.  We are certain to be found out going about it the way we are now.

How about a modification to your plan?  By now they must know you, a Dwarf, are with us.  If we leave the wagon here and make westward on foot they will believe we’re headed to Om Daggor and try to cut us off.  However, if we make for the hill village of Intervine we might be able to give them the slip long enough to rest up, refit and maybe find a better option for going about this madness.

Hmm.  It’s a long shot, but I believe you are right about them trying to halt us outside of Om Daggor.  Let us hope our luck holds.  Turning to the back he then yelled, Everyone out!  I hope you like walking because we’ve got a long way to go today.

Pal and Pen groggily climbed out of the wagon and stretched.  It was wild and untamed prairie in every direction as far as they could see.  Dermot reached into the wagon and grabbed his pack, a good rope and a grey, medium sized piece of tied folding cloth.  He carefully undid the binds and revealed two worn kirks in beat up scabbards.  He then turned and buckled them under the dusty brown cloaks of Pal and Pen. 

Now they don’t look like much, but both are imbued with a very special magic.  They are guaranteed to pierce whatever you stab regardless of armor.  Please be extremely careful about handling them.  Now keep them hidden under your cloaks and hopefully you will never have to use them.

They both nodded and then the group headed off to the West.  After about an hour of wading through the tall grass they started to shift course for the North West and to Intervine.

…

Major Orak looked at the wagon and grinned.  He knew that they had foolishly decided to go on foot.  He and his troops would easily catch up to them now.  The two children would slow them down considerably.  He looked at the barely visible trail left by his quarry.  It headed due west.  He grinned even broader.  So they will make for Om Daggor.  This would be too easy.  But then he paused.  If they were to go to the Dwarven stronghold then they would have made in that direction at the start of their journey.  No, something had changed and prompted them to alter course.  One of his troops came up to him and reported.

Sir, the wagon was abandoned without any signs of a struggle and they left nothing of value behind.  The enemy headed due west.  I think they are making for Om Daggor.

Thank you, but next time, don’t think.  We are meant to think that.  Gather everyone for a footrace.  We will beat them to Intervine and lay in wait outside of the gates.

Why would they go to Intervine, sir?  Don’t they have a Dwarf with them?  In the stronghold we would be powerless to root them out.

Major Orak was not accustomed to having his orders questions.  Right now he needed his team to be healthy and fit.  So instead of beating the Orc the enraged CTU commander viciously kicked the cart snapping its axle and knocking a wheel off.  He glared at his subordinate.

Now you may think again, growled Major Orak. They are heading for the north lands.  Om Daggor doesn’t get them any closer, but Intervine does, and if we go to Om Daggor then they gain even more valuable time on us.

The party of four heavily armed Orcs then set out on a blistering pace directly for Intervine.

VII

The head of state security sat in her bleak windowless office.  The only decoration was the seal of the empire of Pilth Rabour, a red field with a black raven holding a spear in each claw, hung directly behind the desk.  Rainwater Quathillia sat behind the desk, the room’s only furniture, perplexed.  All of the CTU teams had reported in and found nothing except an abandoned wreck of a wagon.  All except Major Orak’s CTU-3, that is.  The veteran Orc was her number one agent.  He had never failed her, but now she had to look the facts in the face.  He may be dead, but to not receive a report would mean the same for his team, and that just wasn’t likely.  He may have betrayed, but that was even less likely.  Major Orak was being groomed to take her place in the coming years, and he knew it.  Capture was possible, but again a whole team killed or caught was extremely improbable.  His silence was disturbing.  She rested her forehead on her palms and stared down at wood grain of her desk.  The uncertainty and frustration were getting to her.  She had gotten with General Ravenwing earlier and both agreed that this wasn’t a problem for the empire’s army.  The General was heading to the northern front in the next couple of days and wouldn’t want to be bothered, nor would he want to spare troops from the massive offensive that was to take place over the coming months.  She decided to use her powers to call upon the local town guards and to keep one regiment of her Black Guard behind.  She would grant the locals the authority to pursue criminals beyond the townships and she would concentrate her Black Guard efforts in the area between Portgrad, Crossroads and Intervine.  Her remaining Command Tactical Units would be dispatched to the port cities of Crosswinds, Bulliver’s Bay Town and Gretchen Bay Colony.

…

The Tower Of The Rose And Star sat in a break in the mountains and was the gateway between the frozen northern lands of the resistance factions and the civilized world of Pilth Rabour.  On the west side of the tower, Athnor and Quathnor sat mounted in full combat regalia at the head of two hundred thousand Paladin Knights.  To their east Liet Blackstone and his two Rose Knights Of The Red Garland sat with their banner, a thorny red rose on a field of pure white.  Behind them were marshaled two hundred thousand grim faced knights from The Order Of The Imperial Rose.  The Paladins would follow their leaders and their banner. The Paladin banner consisted of a royal blue field with nine silver stars, one for each leader after the fall of their empire.  They were to lay siege to the Watchtower of Vorgnast.  The knights under Liet Blackstone would move to take the townships of Knast Viptor and Bezel.  If things went well the Paladins would meet them in Bezel, if not Liet would turn his army northward and help in the siege.  Since Portgrad to the West had no standing forces they were not to be worried about until the siege was completed.  The taking of Bezel would be the key to isolating the whole northern region of Pilth Rabour.

Both armies started out and the very ground shook.  The dust stirred up from four hundred thousand horses reached to the heavens.  Athnor wondered if it could be seen from Vorgnast.  He suspected the enemy could and would be waiting inside their walls to greet them with arrows, bolts and anything else that could fly.  The siege would not be easy and he fully planned on it to be tough.  His siege engines would be fully brought to bear on the isolated tower and its garrison.  While he knew that the others would have an easier time it would be the banner of the Paladins that would be first reported to the emperor.  The Paladins would get all the glory and credit for this little campaign, though he feared the awesome price that might be paid in blood before victory would be his.

…

Major Orak arrived at the closed gates of Intervine on an icy night sometime after midnight.  He placed his troops in some scrub bushes on either side of the road about a mile from the gate and prepared to lie in wait for his prey.  He was taking an incredible gamble coming here.  If the kids went to Om Daggor he would have lost them for good, but if they slipped away north his men based at the watchtower would find them.  He also knew he should have reported in to his boss several days ago, but didn’t because he feared politics would intervene in his work and they would be permitted to slip away.  His last two missions had been cutoff just as he was going in for the capture and / or kill.  He wasn’t about to have a third.

He reviewed the information with his fellow Orcs.  The primary targets were the two kids.  The kids had to be killed. The swordsman, and now a dwarf too, were also to be eliminated if possible. Once everyone was absolutely clear as to what was to happen and each had a specific target to handle, Major Orak hid himself in the brush.  Again, the Orc commander wondered what was so important about them.  What secret was so deadly to the empire that they had to be killed to ensure their silence? 

The Orcs completely convinced that no one would be out at this time of the night had not taken any precautions to prevent eavesdropping.  A shadow slowly and noiselessly crept away from the city and the ambush site.  It took up residence on the far side of a hill barely a thousand yards and two hills away from the Orcs.  There it seemed to wait in ambush, too.  Like the Orcs the shadow appeared to be completely unaware of another presence nearby.

VIII

General Ravenwing dismounted and stretched his legs.  He was an hour’s ride north of the town of Crossroads.  In two more days he’d be joining up with his main army.  He was bringing with him two hundred and fifty thousand troops to bolster the half million already waiting for him in Bezel, the twenty thousand at Knast Viptor and the eight thousand now holed up in the Watchtower of Vorgnast.  The Paladins had ushered forth and tipped the scales in his favor.  Dealing with them in the open would be far easier than if they went hiding in the thousands of caves on the northern slopes of the mountains.  The garrison at Knast Viptor had reported some activity from the area, but the General discounted it as a screening force to keep reinforcements from arriving at the watchtower.  He had decided to keep them there to give the illusion of their plan succeeding.  How he longed to see the faces of the Paladin commanders when the full might of the empire took to the field unannounced and unlooked for, but he’d have to be content with routing them.

…

Liet Blackstone had harassed long enough.  He sent his demands to the garrison commander at Knast Viptor.  It called for total surrender.  He knew that it wouldn’t be accepted and had already begun to place his forces for an attack.  He knew that the barracks would be taken easily with minimal losses.  He now turned his attention to the reports his scouts had been making on a large gathering of troops in Bezel.  He hadn’t decided if this was the local contingent getting counted more than once or if this was really something to worry about.  He had always planned to proceed with caution, but if the main army was gathering at Bezel then delay would only increase their numbers.  At full strength the empire would be five hundred thousand strong.  He didn’t think that the reserve units would be called up just to push them out.  Another piece of news had come his way and he was still wrestling with the idea of passing it on to Boryni Singh.  It wasn’t verifiable, but it seems that the empire had killed his brother and sister in-law, and was on a search and destroy mission to kill the kids.  He decided that would have to wait, his commanders had enough to worry about without external issues clouding their judgment.

…

The tall grass of the plains had given way to barren rocky hills spotted with scrub thicket.  The terrain was difficult to traverse for anyone not using the road.  Dermot was a skilled guide and began picking his way through the treacherous ground.  Avoiding the road made going very slow.  Suddenly they came to the edge of a fifty foot cliff face.  The icy air whipped around them.  Inwardly sighing, the exhausted Dermot Haidenfoot dropped his pack and detached his rope.  Slowly and carefully he found the mid-point of the rope and placed it around a large rock.  He tied the two ends together and tossed it over the precipice.  He then grabbed a hold of the rope with his benumbed hands and cautiously climbed down.  Once at the bottom he waited for the two children to each make their decent.  It took each of them around ten minutes of twisting in the wind to safely reach the bottom. Tumalc