Prologue
The moon shone bright and silvery in the cool early winter air. The shadow of her light filtered over the cobbled streets of the town making it appear like the streets were damp with translucent water as the light reflected over their polished visage. Music could be heard in the heavy air drifting from a nearby inn and was interrupted with the sounds of laughter punctuating some bawdy joke. A cloaked figure moves silently through the streets. No sound echoes from the stones beneath their feet as if they are not even touching the ground. A slight hand reaches out to grasp the handle on the door to the inn when instead the door lurches open suddenly causing the cloaked figure to step back quickly or get hit squarely by the heavy oaken door.
“Alright Butheris, you’ve had enough ta drink tonight. Ya best be getting home now ‘fore ya start ta sing along with the music again. We lost a lotta money from that ya know. We still have people too skerred to come in tha door for fear you’ll start caterwauling again like ya did tha last time. Poor Merf Hettershed still says he has a ringin’ in his ears,” came the admonishment of a portly woman as she gently pushed a large man out the door.
The cloaked figure watched as the man barely kept his feet for the first few seconds that he found himself outside the door and on the cobbled street then seemed to get his bearings and began to lurch away from the inn. The woman’s gaze fell on the cloaked figure briefly. A look of concern flitted through her eyes and was gone.
“Ya commin in or not? We don’t bite ya know. We got tha best ale in the Province as long as ya don’t mind it strong,” she said brusquely then turned to reenter the inn. “That one always has far too much of it and doesn’t have quite the stomach he thinks,” she shot over her shoulder.
Sybell walked in the door behind the woman and carefully pulled down the hood from her face. She could feel her nose beginning to thaw slightly in the warm entry of the inn. The night was colder than any so far this season and did not portend well for how the rest of the season might go. She could feel the pain in her ears begin to recede after the initial shock of going from the cold to the warm as she rubbed her arms with her hands to revitalize the blood in them. She had been too long on horseback and had lost the feeling from her shoulders down after being jostled around for so long. She hated horses truth be told. They were however a means to an end and walking certainly wasn’t an option.
She could feel the eyes on her as she shook out her hair from under the cloak and slipped off her gloves to let the warmth seep into her hands as she moved toward the fire and held them up. What did she care if they looked? Let them. It wasn’t the first time she had been the stranger in town and it wouldn’t be the last she was sure. She had counted twelve tables as she had walked in the door. Despite the cold outside, the tables furthest from the fire were the ones with the most occupants. A small stage just to the right of the fireplace held what she guessed was a bard, but she didn’t recall that they came in such a piteous package. Instead of the charisma she associated with most bards, this one seemed frightened of every chord he played, and his voice warbled like it couldn’t believe it was being made to come out of his mouth.
Sybell moved smoothly from in front of the fire to a table to the left of the door in a small corner. It was the perfect location to keep watch both on the patrons of the inn and of those coming and going through the door. She unfastened the cloak from around her shoulders and let it fall gently over the back of her chair careful to swing her long dark hair free.
“Whatta ya have my lady?” asked a quiet slip of a girl with blonde hair. She looked as if she had lived a hard life already despite that she was at most twenty years of age.
Sybell tossed down a small silver coin on the table before her and spoke, “I’ll have the stew, I assume you have stew like any inn, and some of your warm honey mead please. I’m not much for ale myself, but need something to warm me up a little.” She kept her voice low and soft as she spoke but was sure the girl had heard her fine enough despite it.
“Oh, yes my lady, we have the best stew ya can find in all the five kingdoms. I’ll bring it right quick and some bread for ya,” she said as she quickly scooped up the small coin.
Sybell settled into her seat and took in each patron. Most were too drunk to be of any concern and only one seemed to have an ounce of intelligence behind his eyes. She would catch him glancing her way now and then in between sips of his ale and heckling the bard on stage. She could see the bard’s Adam's apple sliding up and down in his throat as his nerves continued to be tested by the patrons.
It wasn’t long before the aroma of her stew and freshly baked bread drifted to her senses. Her stomach growled suddenly unbidden and unnerved her slightly. She was over hungry and over tired. She had pushed herself too hard and she needed to get herself under control before the night got any later. Within moments she was eating and actually started to believe the girl might be right about the stew. She hadn’t had anything quite this good in a long while. The mead was slightly over sweet, but the warm of it lit a fire in her senses and she began to feel enlivened once more. She felt sharper than she did when she first walked in the door and with her body warmed by the fire and food in her belly she thought she might even feel normal again soon.
As she finished her meal she heard the door swing open and watched as a large man with a dangerous glint in his eye entered. He carried himself like a fighter. He was neatly groomed with his blonde hair neatly tied back from his face, and she could just make out a small tattoo just behind his left ear. Sybell nodded to herself as she realized this was the man she had been looking for. He was a sword for the Brotherhood of the Crimson Sun. A man bound by honor to uphold the law and ferret out those that would go against it.
She watched as he went through his own routine of counting the tables and patrons in the inn. She could tell it was something he always did as a precaution before letting his guard down even the slightest bit. The men at the far end greeted him with drunken ‘Hurrahs’ and went back to their boisterous activities once more. He sat nearly mirror to her position making sure he too could see all of the inn interior and the door at the same time. As he sat, she caught a glimpse of the sword that he slipped off of his back and hooked over the edge of the chair within easy reach. If it wasn’t for the noise of the inn she’s sure she could have heard the change in his heart rate as he settled in and became as comfortable as he’d allow himself.
She had always heard the Brotherhood was uptight, but never realized until now as she watched the man struggle with his internal feelings of just wanting to relax versus staying alert in case any trouble arose. Perhaps he was the type that was used to trouble always following him everywhere he went. Perhaps he was right to be so paranoid. You never could tell these days. There were troubled times for everyone as it was.
There was a cacophony of noise as one of the drunks near the bard got up and thought to take the man’s lute and play it himself. Unfortunately the bard had chosen to cling to the lute as if his life depended on it and he found himself dangling precariously from its neck and then falling off of the stage as the man shook him free.
“Why doncha learn ta play dis ting radder dan stranglin it ya damned guttersnipe?” the man bellowed at the bard. Each word was slurred by ale and spittle clung to the corners of the man’s mouth as he spat. “We’re sick ta det with all that noise yas makin and ya can’t be spectin us ta believe ya know how ta sing anyways!”
The bard began to wimper and cover his head afraid that the man would bring the lute down on it.
“Be-be-beggin your pardon sir but p-p-please don’t hurt it!” stuttered the bard.
“How coulds I hurts it anyways? Ya already done worse ta it then I e’er cud. I’m surprised it hadn’t run off by nows,” and with that the man began to laugh as if he had just told the best joke he’s ever heard in his life. The other men in his group began to laugh as well and slap their knees and each other on the back at the cleverness of their friend.
Sybell saw the opening she had been seeking and smoothly stood up and walked toward the frightened bard. She placed her hand on his shoulder gently leaned down and spoke to him, “I’ll take it from here boy. I’ll take care of it all, alright? Here’s a bit of silver. Why don’t you treat yourself to something to drink and regain your nerves. I’ve got this fine.”
She watched as the bard scrambled across the floor at first looking a bit like a crab trying to escape. It wasn’t long until he had managed to get to his feet and scramble further back among the tables and seat himself. The blonde girl quickly went to him to get his order and looked briefly concerned at the turn of events.
Sybell stood up and approached the still guffawing man on the stage as he drunkenly danced about with the lute and strummed with clumsy ham hands over the strings. She smiled her brightest smile as she approached him.
“May I?” she asked reaching toward the lute. The man looked startled at first as if it was the first he remembered she had entered the inn. He looked dumbfounded and clumsily handed her the lute unsure of what else he should do.
With a slight push she propelled him back toward his friends then sat down on the stool the bard had previously occupied. She lightly brushed her fingers over the strings then adjusted the tone so that the chords would ring true for her. A hush swept over the inn as the few that were there took in her sudden appearance and found that they were startled that there was a stranger among them.
Once she was satisfied with the tone she struck a chord and began to sing a song about two lovers torn apart by war. Her voice was clear and sweet and she could see that she had her audience mesmerized. On occasion she’d steal a glimpse of the man from the Brotherhood. He had taken on a curious look in his eye. It was apparent he was just as surprised at her appearance as the rest of the patrons. As the song came to it’s tragic end and the two lovers embraced as the man lay dying in the arms of his lady fair, she let her eyes linger on his for just a bit longer and let the final chord ring out.
There was a slight hush and then the drunken men that had just been heckling the bard began banging their wooden cups on the table.
“More! More!” they shouted. “Sing another one!” came another shout. “Do ya know the one about the sheep herder and his lost flock?” came another.
Sybell smiled to herself and played another tune and another as the patrons continued to shout and applaud her. Finally, when she felt her voice was going to leave her at last, the man from the Brotherhood approached lifting a hand up to settle the rest of the shouting down.
“I believe,” he said in an authoritative voice, “that the lady has sung enough this eve and all without compensation it seems. My lady, I ask the honor of making amends for such oversight. It seems you’ve been doing another man’s job in entertaining this lot and I’m sure you’re quite exhausted from their demands. If you would join me at my table I would be honored.”
She gazed into his eyes and smiled again trying to put as much warmth into the smile as she could. “I’d be honored, my lord.”
With that she reached up and took his proffered arm and followed him back to his table. Her cloak was waiting for her there as if he knew she would accept. She smiled at him once more and sat trying to carefully arrange herself with a clear view of the door without giving away her behavior to her benefactor.
“My lady,” he began solemnly. “I can not believe I’ve ever heard your like before. Are you bard trained? Perhaps you are a lady of breeding tutored by a bard? Please, we don’t get many strangers here and I’d like to know more of you. It is not often that a lady catches my eye though they try,” he put in with a bit of arrogance slipping through. “I have discerning tastes.”
Oh yes, she could tell he was used to getting what he wanted. He was a dangerous man, but he was still a man like all of them.
Sybell laughed lightly. “I am quite sure you get your way my lord,” she said flirting slightly with him. A small smirk came to her lips as she leaned in close to him as if she had a secret to tell. “I am used to much the same truth be told but to answer your question, I am the daughter of a wine merchant in the Arastani Province. My father hired the best tutors for his children so we would never embarrass him in front of the distinguished guests he would invite out to the vineyard.”
“Ahh,” he intoned knowingly. “Surely then the vineyard seems to have produced far more than fine wine.”
She feigned a bit of embarrassment and looked away shyly. “My lord, you flatter me. I would say that the people there are of fine stock. It’s the warm sun and the rich soil for sure.”
“Please my lady, let me buy you something to drink. Here I am talking to you and asking you questions and not giving you the slightest chance to rest your voice and recuperate from the fine singing you did for us just a little while ago. Lilia! More of what this lady was drinking before please! It’s on me.”
“That is generous of you however, I don’t even know your name yet. What should I call you my lord?” she asked sweetly.
“Where are my manners? You must forgive me my lady but between your physical beauty and the beauty of your voice, I have lost sight of all protocol. My name is Lord Rale of Dorbenshire, Paladin in service of the Brotherhood of the Crimson Sun. Might I inquire as to yours if it’s not so bold?”
“My Lord Rale, we are all friends here now are we not? You may be as bold as you like,” she said as she lowered her voice slightly and let a bit of huskiness into it. “My name is Sybell of Karestor in the Arastani Province, but you may call me Sybell as my friends do.”
“Ah, but My Lady, I couldn’t possibly could I? What would the others think?” he asked as he gestured to the patrons that had begun to pass out at their tables.
“My lord, I have long since learned that little matters when it comes to anyone other than what you yourself think. If I thought much of what others thought, I’d be married and working my own vineyard with bouncing babies on my knees. But as you can see, I escaped that fate and would much prefer to live my life as I see fit. Don’t you agree that sometimes you must take risks? Besides, I’ve never met one of the Brotherhood before as silly as that may sound. We didn’t have much call to interact with them on the vineyard. However, from what I have seen in you so far, I am quite…pleased,” with that she smiled and put her hand lightly on his where it rested on the table.
“My lady, you have left me at a loss for words,” he said and then toasted her with his ale.
They spent a good while talking about her life on the vineyard and his duties within the Brotherhood as he continued to purchase drink after drink for her. She smiled knowingly as he continued to work on getting her drunk. It would take more than few drinks to get her so, but she pretended it was having the effect that he wished it to have.
“My lady, I feel as if I know you, but I would like to know you…more,” he said slyly, sure that the alcohol was taking its toll on her. He leaned in closer and whispered in her ear. “My lady, I would like to spend some time getting to know you skin to skin if you would do me such an honor. A woman as beautiful as you with clothes on must be stunning to behold in the moonlight with no clothes at all.”
She pretended to hiccup lightly then gave a girlish giggle. “Why my lord you are scandalous! But, how could I turn down such a beautifully phrased request?” She pretended to hiccup once more. “Lead the way my lord, I have need of your tender ministrations and would like to see if you do in fact like what you see in the moon’s silvery wash.”
With that he grinned at her sure that he had successfully seduced her instead of the other way around. Her plan had been subtle and had worked exactly as planned. He was a paladin, but he was a man too and every man longs to be wanted by a beautiful and strange woman, to be thought of as handsome and irresistible. He offered her his arm and led her up the steps of the inn his smile one of victory assured of another conquest. She worked to control the pounding in her heart and slow her excitement.
“Patience Sybell,” she told herself. “Just a little longer and he is yours.”
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“What’s this then?” shouted the Captain at the messenger that had brought him the news. “How many is that now?”
The messenger stammered as he stared into the enraged face of his Captain. “F-f-f-five sir. F-five including Lord Rale sir.”
“How did he die?” asked the Captain.
“Th-the-they say his throat was slit while he slept in bed sir. N-n-no one remembers seeing anyone with him. N-n-no one remembers much of last night really.”
“Unacceptable!” shouted the Captain. “Unacceptable I say!” he shouted again his face becoming even redder. “We are losing too many to some enemy that we can’t even see. Five is too many. Four is too many. Three is too many. Even ONE is too many and yet here we are! Five men, FIVE dead all killed like common chattle. Can you explain that to me Corporal?”
“N-n-no Captain Evers. I can’t sir. Sir, there is one more thing sir. The-the-they found this lying next to Lord Rale. It seems like it’s some sort of calling card but no one knows what it means,” said the messenger.
“Well? Let me see it already! Why didn’t you tell me to begin with?”
He took the small charm from the messenger and looked at it. It was a small pewter charm with a cluster of grapes and a snake wrapped around it. It made no sense to him at all.
“Alert the Brotherhood. Send out drawings of this symbol to every corner of the order. I want the perpetrator of these crimes found and I want them found NOW. I will not stand by as my men are butchered. We will find this killer and be done with them. Well?” he blinked at the messenger. “What in Atrion’s fires don’t you understand? Get moving!”
With that the messenger snatched the charm from Captain Evers and stumbled over his feet as he attempted to leave the offices. The Captain of the Brotherhood of the Crimson Sun in Nautash Province watched the messenger go with a scowl on his face. The word that war was coming was one thing, but to now have his men being killed off one by one? It was inconceivable.
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