A Thief's Sins: Volume Two of A Thief's War

By Avery Davis

The rebellion has been defeated by the famously brave prince: Vaeyr Ithen. A powerful noblewoman has captured Avartes Alendor to put an end to his crimes, and Elric Fay is free from his kidnapper’s clutches. Not all is as well as it seems, though. Silloen, grieved by her boundless loss and tragedy, travels north toward the nation’s capital city, hellbent on revenge. Strange entities whisper in her ears, urging her to destroy all who have wronged her. She is torn between finding her brother and stopping the liars and thieves that have weaved her life into a living torment. Elric, though free from the bastard who took him in the first place, has found himself in the hands of a new captor: Prince Vaeyr has locked Elric away in the dungeons and kept him secret from the public. He knows not what fate awaits him, or why such a betrayal came from the royalty of his own country. Lastly, another soul, betrayed by royals and criminals alike, finds himself grouped with the former Princess Ala Alendor and other unscrupulous folks in order to avenge the man he loved. There may look to be peace in the kingdom, but a web of lies and deceit is all that hides the coming flames.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Jul 4, 2021
• ISBN: 9780557983506

Avery Davis

Avery Davis has a deep desire to write women’s fiction that speaks to the heart of women. After graduating from law school she set out to write her first novel, Silhouette of the Sun.

Book preview

A Thief’s Sins

A Thief’s War: Volume Two

Avery Davis

This book contains content that some may find disturbing, and unpleasant actions performed by characters are in no way condoned or believed to be right by the author.

All characters, locations, names, and other creative content is fictional, and are not meant to resemble anything real.

1

"The king is dead, long live the king!"

Thousands gathered around the square cheering the words. They were looked down upon by a large overhanging balcony from the Royal Palace. King Vaeyr, the self-righteous fucker they looked up to, stood at the front of the balcony in his shining armour, a golden crown resting on his forehead. Dozens of guards stood behind him to keep a watchful eye on the crowd gathered beneath.

Vaeyr held his gleaming sword high in the sky. His neatly-trimmed brown hair hung down over his face, the beginnings of a beard grew around his chin. He looked like a hero. The bastard’s looks were all a show, of course.

Dycae stood among the crowd, a brown cloak resting upon his shoulders. A hood shrouded his scarred face as he looked up at King Vaeyr with a sneer on his expression. A longsword was strapped to Dycae's back, but alas, the balcony was barely low enough for Dycae to hear the king, let alone stab him. Dycae stood at the back of the crowd, anyway. He was only here to get the gist of what was going on. And also to find a witch.

Vaeyr lowered his sword, looking down to the masses. It was only a month ago that the man had killed his father, and now he was being crowned king already. People of Iroloth! King Vaeyr exclaimed. I mourn my father's death, but I am glad to now be your king, he continued, bringing out cheers from most of the crowd. Vaeyr had spent years becoming known as a hero amongst the people, Dycae knew nothing could sway them against him. The wretched rebellion in our land has cost us dearly, but I swear to you, I shall bring it to an end. Another round of cheers.

Dycae scoffed.

Vaeyr hesitated as a man clad in leather approached him. There was a brief and quiet exchange between the two before the king turned back to his people. Not only shall I end this rebellion, but many of you have heard of what happened in Valesport. The city was brought to ruins by a witch who managed to slaughter even the Silver Knights. Sebastian Vistof and the Red Knight are missing, but many others are confirmed dead. The man responsible for this is an elf named Avartes Alendor, a bastard from the elven royal bloodline, and a dreadful manipulator. Booing from the crowd. They just loved anything he said, didn’t they

My guards have captured Avartes, and when the clock strikes six tomorrow, my headsman shall publicly put an end to him. The whereabouts of the child he has kidnapped are unknown; Elric Fay is most likely dead. And for this, the Alendor shall pay. He looked down with what Dycae assumed was feigned solemness. The facade was wiped away as he continued to his next words, May my reign bring us into an age of gold! the king declared, once more raising his sword into the air. 

Dycae kept his eyes averted to the ground as the rest of the crowd cheered, raised their fists into the air, and all acted like downright gullible idiots.

Dycae assumed Ala would want to know that King Vaeyr had Avartes. The two were siblings, even if on opposite sides of the war. He lowered his head as he began to push past people, keeping his face in the shadows of his hood. There was a witch, formerly among the rebellion, somewhere in this crowd. Ala hadn't given him any details on how to find her, except that she'd have a star-like tattoo on her neck and blonde hair.

He ignored the speech that Vaeyr continued giving, it wasn’t listening to over the roaring of the people around him. It took him a solid twenty minutes of searching, though it felt like an hour, before he found a woman matching the description Ala had given him.

He looked over his shoulder to try to get a look at her. She too was pushing past the crowd, but she hadn't seemed to notice him yet. She was gazing intently up toward King Vaeyr. That couldn't be good, a witch holding that much interest in the king. On the other hand, Dycae despised Vaeyr, so he wouldn't mind if she used magic to give him a little push.

Her blonde hair was tied into a bun over her head and she appeared to be perhaps twenty years old? An impressive age for witches in this kind of country. 

How was he going to catch her to bring her back to Ala without the people around him noticing?

Dycae waited for her to start to pass him. He grabbed her hand quickly, his gloved fingers wrapping around her wrist. Perhaps a little too bold of a move, but Dycae didn't exactly see an alternate method.

Who the hell do you think you are? The witch hissed, trying to pull away. The people mobbing around them didn't seem to notice.

Dycae cursed, grinding his teeth together. Ala wants to talk to you, he said quietly. He could see sudden desperation in her eyes. Wrong choice of words?

Kill me, you mean? she said. Why didn't she come here herself? Sent a lackey? The woman demanded, trying to pull away again. Dycae kept his grip firm. 

He looked around them for another moment, growing more anxious that her reaction was going to draw attention. Stop it, or you'll get us both killed. Ala's searching for Avartes, she needs your help. She's not going to kill you, Dycae assured. 

She stopped tugging away, a begrudging gaze staring up at him. I'm trying to save Avartes, the damned bastard. So, you can let me go now, she said.

Dycae shook his head. You'll really want to hear what Ala has to say.

The witch groaned, looking up to the balcony, and then back to Dycae. What’s in it for me?

Money? Safety?

She hesitated. Fine, but let’s make it quick.

The two of them made their way out of the crowd, pushing past people and dodging around guards. The soldiers didn't seem too aware of them, but many of them were among the crowd. All wore the royal crest, a crowned shield marked upon their chestplates. Dycae could only hope that none would recognise him from his time fighting alongside them.

He kept a close eye on the witch, ignoring her scowl. He didn't actually know if Ala wanted her dead, but he did know Ala wanted the witch at their hideout as soon as possible. Whatever her type of magic, she would likely be able to kill them all with ease, so hopefully Ala only wanted to talk.

It wasn't long before the two of them were well-away from the city centre and the crowd. Hardly anyone seemed to be out and about, most likely all were off hearing the king's speech. Dycae figured he would have to find a rickshaw to take them to the Rat District, as the slums were a long walk from here. And of course, Ala just had to choose the slums to reside in. The safest place in the city, obviously.

See any transport? Dycae asked quietly, glancing at the witch.

The witch sighed. How far is the walk?

Dycae shrugged. Other side of the city, Ala decided that living among gang members and thieves would be the most 'low-profile' section of town. I think it would take maybe three hours to get there by foot.

The witch scoffed, disgust evident on her features. Fine. What's the address? I can get us there faster.

Dycae quirked an eyebrow, not sure he liked the sound of that. Twelfth Street, Rat District, he said.

The witch held out her gloved hand. Take my hand, unless you actually fancy walking that far, she said.

Dycae glanced about for a moment to see if anyone was watching. It seemed rather reckless for a witch to use her magic in broad daylight. Nonetheless, he took her hand. I will be quite distraught if you kill me here, he remarked.

I won't. She snorted. Close your eyes.

His eyebrows portraying his ever-sceptical expression, Dycae sighed, but did as he was told.

Open your eyes.

Dycae did so, looking to his surroundings immediately. At first everything seemed the same, perhaps a bit darker. Before he could comment on it, the buildings and streets themselves began shaping differently. Dycae held back a gasp, watching as the street transformed to the broken and unkempt roads of the Rat District. Pieces of buildings dissolved into nothing, while more grew into entirely different forms.

Blazing hells, Dycae muttered. No one else notices that?

The witch shook her head. Nothing actually changed. What you saw is simply how one perceives their own corporeal transportation, she said.

Huh? Dycae wrinkled his nose in confusion.

We teleported, dumbass. the witch rolled her eyes, trekking forward. Which house is it?

Dycae nodded toward an apartment building about halfway down the road. We've rented out a few long-term rooms there.

The witch eyed the apartments sceptically. "That place looks totally safe. The grime and moss crawling up the walls make me feel so secure," she said.

Dycae shrugged. Probably because it aligns with your personality. Let's go, he said, nodding past the rusted iron fence that surrounded the place. The fence's gates were wide open, as they always were during the day. Dycae also knew there were guards in the upper windows and rooftop. This place was a lot more secure than it looked ever since Ala had rented it.

The two of them made a quick pace past the gnarled gardens beyond the fence and toward the double doors of the apartments. The lobby was a smallish room with a carpeted floor and an ungodly stench that Dycae had never been able to pin down. There were only a few people around that he saw; for the most part, the Ashen Raiders were the only people residing in the place right now. The clerk scribbled at papers by her desk, clearly avoiding looking at any of the residents.

Dycae nodded to the hallway off to the side, leading the witch down it. Ala should still be here, most likely- before he could finish explaining, he felt himself being pushed against a hallway door. The witch quickly opened it, shoving him inside and then going in herself. Dycae stumbled backwards, hearing the entrance to the room slam shut. 

What the fuck? Dycae hissed, reaching for his sword.

You tricked me, the witch spoke quietly, glaring at him. She clenched her fists, most likely not a good sign.

Dycae frowned, hesitating as his sword was halfway out of its scabbard. I did? he asked.

The witch stepped closer to Dycae than he was comfortable with. She smelled like wine. There are Hethrians searching the building, the witch said. You're claiming you didn't have a part in that?

Dycae shrugged.

The witch let out a long groan of irritation. What room is Ala in? She demanded.

Tongue in his cheek, Dycae frowned. Then he looked to the ceiling for a moment. The fifty-first, three floors up, he said. He was taken by slight surprise as the witch grabbed his hand again, and then he closed his eyes tightly.

Moments passed, but the witch didn't move and Dycae heard nothing. At least, until Ala's voice let out a shout of surprise.

Damn you to the gods below, haven't you heard of knocking? Ala's enraged words were enough to get Dycae to open his eyes. Had they intruded on something?

The witch stood very still whilst adjacent to him, and Dycae could see Ala finish up with quickly lacing her clothing over her chest. She wore a rich-looking gown of a dark red colour. 

What in the blazing fuck is that? Dycae asked.

A dress.

Never would have guessed. Why are you wearing it?

What would you rather I wear? Dark wrappings and leather?

Dycae coughed. That would be your usual outfit, yes.

Ala rolled her eyes, then looked to the witch. Ezila.

The witch scowled. Ezila, was her name? Hethrians are scouring the building, she stated.

Dycae stared between the two. Ala was scarier; even though the witch was pretty frightening. Dycae had seen Ala fight off dozens of people with relative ease, something no one should be able to do.

Ala huffed as she folded her arms. I didn't expect you two to be back so soon. Stay in here until the Hethrians are gone, they've already searched my room. They have no idea who I am, she explained. Dorgon and the others are also safe. We have much to discuss.

Dycae nodded slightly. Like, maybe why you look like you're about to mingle at the royal banquet tonight? he asked.

Ala glared at him. No. Evidently my intentions behind wearing this dress are obvious already.

Ezila laughed without amusement. Ala Alendor, attending a royal banquet? This I have to see. She scoffed.

And you will. Ala's gaze pierced both of them. We're getting Avartes out before he escapes on his own.

Dycae frowned. How do you already know that Vaeyr has him?

It was in the paper.

Oh.

Ala rubbed her hands together. Anyway, back to the matter at hand: I have a plan.

2

I don't understand, Elric demanded. He wrapped his fingers around the bars of his cell, staring out into the darkness of the halls beyond. A dim lantern on a small table was the only illumination around, and it was just enough for him to see Avartes on the other side of the cell. "Why would Vaeyr put me in here? And what did he do with Reela?"

Avartes pursed his lips. They'd been in here only a few days, but Avartes already looked weaker and less impressive than he had naught but a week ago. The elf still wore an amused smirk, but his features were dirty, and the rags he wore were torn. Tell me you didn't have that much faith in Vaeyr? It's not hard to see through his facade.

Elric looked down, his hands still clenching the bars. I always knew something was off about him...

The elf swayed his head back and forth, seemingly-unafraid for some reason. If Elric were in his position, he would be terrified. He works for my brother, Avartes remarked.

Huh? Elric demanded.

"His father died in the battle of Locheste with no witnesses aside from himself, and then the soldiers pulled out and marched back here, crowning Vaeyr as king as fast as they could. Do you really think that this wasn’t all part of a scheme?" Avartes asked.

Elric sighed deeply. He hated Avartes for dragging him into all of this. You know they're going to execute you?

Avartes let out an audible snort. Sure, he mused.

Elric glared back at him again. How was he always so confident? There was obviously absolutely no way out of this one. They were locked up, they had nothing, the guard said Avartes would die in the morning. 

The elf's brown hair covered his eyes, as Avartes seemed to stare at something on the floor. Elric didn't bother figuring out what, instead he slumped against the wall. He almost didn't care about getting out. His entire family was dead, he was known as missing to the public. What did he have to return to? The only possible answer was revenge. Revenge on everyone who had hurt him or his family.

He could only imagine what was going on in Iroloth. Vaeyr was being crowned king, rebels lurked in the shadows, and no one knew what was going on. Except, evidently, Avartes. The Bastard of Kythria seemed to know everything, it was no wonder Vaeyr saw him as a threat.

Silence settled over the dark cell and over the hours the same guard frequently passed with not even a word. Avartes sat in his corner, the dim light of the lantern occasionally flicking over his passive expression. Elric only felt himself sinking into despair.

He could tell whenever the guard was approaching, hearing footsteps and feeling the cold breeze come in. He couldn't figure out why there was a cold breeze; Iroloth tended to be a fairly warm place. No light accompanied it either, which seemed odd. Were they underground? Isolated from the world?

Elric waited for the guard to come around again. When he heard the footsteps, Elric stood and moved to the bars. Why am I in here? He asked.

The guard ignored him.

Hey, I'm Elric Fay, son of Lyon Fay, I shouldn't be in here! He exclaimed.

The guard kept moving, and Elric heard Avartes chuckle. He turned to glare at the elven thief, before returning to the stone bench in the otherwise-empty cell.

Sorry, but titles seldom mean anything when you're in prison, Avartes remarked. Otherwise I’d be commenting on my own royal heritage at every passerby.

Elric sighed, pulling his knees up to his chest. A month ago, he'd been living peacefully. His mother was going to send him to join the guard, he was safe, his family was alive. Now that was all gone.

This was all Avartes' fault. And for that, Elric would ensure he paid.

3

This is an outrage. Dycae scoffed. He adjusted the gold-laced silver mask that covered the upper half of his face. He walked between Ala and Ezila with a few of the other Ashen Raiders trailing behind them. Dorgon, Lek, Ken, and Tilia: the only four Ashen Raiders that Dycae had ever actually met. Aside from Savian, of course.

Ala snickered, being the only one of the group to react to Dycae's comment. Don't like dressing well, do you? She mocked, interlocking her elbow with Ezila’s. Dycae furrowed his brow. Those two were getting along well. He wondered what kind of history they had, since clearly they were very well-acquainted with one another.

The group approached the gates of the Iroloth Palace, an extremely large bridge above them bringing shade to the warm night. The bridge went from the highest tower straight to an identical tower on the other side. It spanned farther than Dycae would have imagined possible, arcing over the overly-decorated palace.

Lanterns were everywhere and neatly-trimmed shrubbery decorated the fine areas surrounding the Iroloth Palace. Ala was leading them toward the drawbridge, where trios of guards stood at either end. 

The cobble streets were well-cleaned, and various finely-dressed men and women roamed about aimlessly. Dycae found the entire area to be better than his experience in Valesport, at least. Valesport had been murky, poorly-kept, and dangerous.

Name and invitation? A guard at the front of the bridge asked in a casual manner. None of the others paid them any mind. The man looked between all of them, clearly waiting for one to produce such things.

I am Lady Civeus of Hethria, these are some of my friends, Ala spoke in a courtly manner, bowing her head. She made a gesture to the rest of them before moving to produce a paper from the bag she carried. 

The guard looked at the paper carefully, then back up to Ala. Shall I have you announced, Lady Civeus? He asked.

Ala nodded. Yes, thank you.

Dycae cast her a sceptical look, hearing a bit of grumbling from those behind them. Most likely from Lek and Ken; the elf twins were always worrying about something. Dismissing whatever they were saying, he and the others followed Ala and Ezila as the guard led them across the drawbridge.

They were brought to the grand ballroom, which had a large balcony on either side of the room overlooking the tall and wide chamber. Tables lined with food were abundant, as were drinks and waiters. Dycae saw several doors around the place, but all of them were sealed. 

There was a set of stairs leading down from each overhanging balcony, and the group had entered from the doorway behind one of the balconies, the guards still leading them forward. Dycae's eyes drifted directly across to the other balcony. King Vaeyr stood there as he watched over the banquet, his own rich attire outmatching even that of everyone else. Dycae swallowed the saliva that built in his mouth, hoping Vaeyr wouldn't recognise any of them through the masks and excessive wear.

Adjacent to Vaeyr were two women. One was blonde and dressed as a soldier, irritation written all over her face. Dycae didn't recognise her. The other one was black-haired and well-dressed, but looked more afraid. Princess Lianna, perhaps?

Dycae turned his attention back down, watching people dance and talk. How many of them were planning something? All of them were rich or noble, neither of which could ever be trusted to have everyone’s best interests in mind.

Announcing Lady Civeus of Hethria, and company, the guard shouted, gesturing to Ala. Most members of their group bowed their heads. Dycae didn't, and instead gazed at Vaeyr. The stare was returned, and he got the awful feeling that the king recognised him. This night may not go as well for them as Ala hoped. He might just try and wring the king’s neck here and now, Ala’s plans be damned.

There were a few cheers from the guests below, but most simply carried on. Dycae moved to follow Ala down the stairs afterwards, keeping his attention away from King Vaeyr. 

Dycae tugged at the sleeve on his cotton shirt, finding it to be quite itchy. Why did noblemen wear this stuff?

Hello! A high-pitched voice behind Dycae exclaimed. He turned to look at the speaker. A short man stood before him, eyes lit up with excitement.

Dycae hesitated for a moment as the man kept looking at him. Erm, greetings? Dycae said.

The man laughed. Most likely, he was drunk. What's your name?

I'm wearing a mask, Dycae commented.

The man tilted his head. Well, I'm Parric. Have you heard that all the nobles are supposed to have some grand meeting in a few days? I wonder why they couldn’t just do that here.

Dycae nodded slowly. Right, he said. He then turned to try and rejoin the others, but felt the man's hand on his shoulder. Blazing hells. Right now? Ala was probably already slipping away to get to the dungeons.

Don't go, I like you! Parric drunkenly slurred, waving his glass about. He had the remarkable ability not to spill it. 

Don't you have a servant to order around? He grunted, trying to pull away. He didn't want to attract too much attention. Fortunately, with violins playing as loud as they were, hardly anyone would hear them, even in the midst of the crowd.

Oh no, I’m not a noble, I’m just a bard that was sent here to spy on everyone.

Dycae paused, staring at him. Just what in the blazes was in that wine? Oh well, you best get back to the party. Lots of spying to do. He shooed him away.

Parric sighed, but turned to leave. What a strange man.

He expected to see at least a few members of his group as he turned around, but felt at instant dismay, seeing only unfamiliar faces and uncreative masks. Fuck! They'd just left him behind?

He surveyed the guests for a moment, searching for any of his allies. He spotted Ken chatting with someone, Tilia having a drink, and Dorgon sulking in a corner, but couldn't see any of the others. Ala had told them to blend in for the first hour or two, and that she'd round up those she needed when her plan went into place.

Fuck it, he was going to get something to drink too. This was going to be a long night, and maybe it would help him forget his uncomfortable attire. Dycae tugged at the collar of his richly-coloured shirt, pushing past the crowd to get to one of many tables.

May I help you, sir? Someone said, batting Dycae's hand away as he reached for a glass of wine.

Dycae turned to glare at the offender. Yes, you can sod off. he reached for the drink again.

Excuse me, sir, the man snapped. He looked rich, and was wearing a lion mask. Dycae hadn't a clue who he was. That drink is mine. You may ask a waiter for your own.

Dycae snorted. Not happening, mate. With that, he snatched the glass, then choked the very small amount of wine down without hesitation. The flavour was fruity.

My god! Have you no manners? the lion-masked man demanded.

Dycae turned away, ignoring the dirty looks from the people around him. How could the nobility of Foren stand such tediousness? This banquet was even less interesting than the road to Iroloth had been, which was a very high bar in his opinion.

He felt someone bump into him, but didn't bother looking. He heard Ala's voice hiss in his ear, Don't draw attention.

Dycae rolled his eyes, drifting into the crowd of the dancing and conversing nobles. He was hardly worried. What was the worst they could do? If Vaeyr paid him too much mind, that could go very poorly for him, but he'd love to see the king's expression upon learning that he was still alive.

It felt like hours passed and Dycae kept meandering the room and having the occasional drink. He avoided conversation, but watched people closely, mainly his allies. He observed Ala making small talk with several people. Her facade was uncanny; the noblemen and women that she approached had no idea how dangerous she was. She’d probably slit all of their throats if she weren’t here for something else.

The elf twins, Lek and Ken, spent most of the time leaning against a table and chatting with each other. Though, Dycae watched some young-looking rich man sweep one of them away into a dance. The other one had then watched resentfully, however Dycae had no idea which one was which.

Dorgon was uninteresting as always. Dycae saw him make a few passes at noblewomen, and then grumpily moved to sit by where Lek and Ken had been earlier. Dycae couldn't blame anyone for avoiding him, Dorgon was big, brutish, and mean, but it was almost comical to watch him eat cake from one of the many plates on the table.

Last, and very certainly least, Tilia and Ezila seemed to stick close together, talking quietly. Of course the two witches would have quite a bit to discuss, but they couldn't possibly look any more conspicuous in doing so.

Dycae dismissed any comments or people that came his way, only drinking and watching those around him. He hadn't been in a very social mood since what had happened at Locheste. He didn’t even want to think about it. He had feelings for Thodwin that he still hadn’t sorted out, and thinking about Thodwin’s death just made it worse.

Dycae's thoughts were startled by a voice calling out above. He'd forgotten that more guests would be introduced within the hour of their arrival. Now it seemed someone else was here.

Introducing, his great majesty, the guard at the door began. Dycae glanced up to Vaeyr, noticing a frown on the man's face. Almost anger. Vaeyr had begun to open his mouth, but the guard continued, the High King of Hethria, Hero of Many Ages. There was no one behind the guard yet, Dycae figured they were waiting to show up for dramatic purposes. Sarolen Alendor! the guard finally finished.

From behind the doorway stepped a tall man clad in leather armour, steel plates tightly woven to many parts of it. He wore a helmet that would normally allow his expression to be revealed, but a gold-laced mask in the shape of a fox's face concealed it. Intricate patterns decorated his armour, and King Sarolen of Hethria handed a longsword off to the guard.

You come dressed for battle, Vaeyr's voice echoed across the room. All eyes were on one of the two kings. Why?

The sound of the violins began to die down, even the musicians clearly wondering why Sarolen was here.

Sarolen stared at Vaeyr for a moment, allowing silence to settle over the room. People seem to be dropping dead quite a bit in this dwindling kingdom of yours, he spoke loud enough to be heard across the room. Dycae was surprised by the sound of his voice. He sounded smooth, calm, but at the same time scolding. One can never dress too safely.

Dycae looked to Vaeyr, watching with pleasure as the king ground his teeth together. I'm sorry that you have such little faith in my nation. No one informed me that you were in Iroloth, may I enquire as to why you are here?

Dycae frowned, casting a glance to each of his companions. He was surprised to find Ala already right behind him and he almost jumped in surprise. Blazing hells, Dycae hissed. What's up?

Ala hesitated a moment, looking around as if hoping no attention were on them. Now's our chance, she whispered.

Dycae cast one more look up at Sarolen, who was calling something out to Vaeyr, but he didn't listen to what it was. Instead, he turned to follow Ala quietly. No one seemed to pay them any mind. 

The two of them rounded up all of their allies aside from Ken, Tilia, and Dorgon, as too large a group would draw attention from the guards.

Do I really have to come? Lek whined as they approached one of the many doors leading out of the room. No one paid attention to Lek's comment, instead focusing on slipping past the door one by one. There were surprisingly no guards stopping them, likely Ala’s doing.

Something feels off about this, Ezila remarked as soon as the door was shut behind them.

I agree, Lek said.

Ala glanced between the two, frowning. We're not turning back. I know where they’re keeping Avartes, now let’s just go before we lose our chance.

Dycae pushed Lek forward. Let's go. The longer we lurk in these wretched hallways, the more likely it is we'll get caught, he stated. 

Lek grunted, letting out a quiet whimper as he moved forward.

Ala led on, bringing them through the dark and surprisingly-vacant corridors of the Iroloth Palace. Where were all the guards? Did Ala kill them all? Dycae figured it best not to question her, especially since she seemed so unworried about it.

The scent of baked goods no longer reached Dycae's nose, and instead the dim hallways were plagued with the smell of smoke. Torches lit some places where there should have been lanterns, only showing how little interest the king had in keeping this place up to date. 

After what felt like twenty minutes of meandering through empty hallways, climbing and descending stairs, and not passing any guards, Dycae started to grow suspicious. Not even a word was said from the others.

Where are all the guards? Dycae finally asked, in a hushed tone. First, King Sarolen showed to the royal banquet unexpectedly, then the palace was lacking guards, and now Ala seemed to be leading them in circles. This night was getting weird.

Ala groaned, which made Dycae worry. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Lek and Ezila casting each other a cautious glance. I don't know, probably making sure nothing goes wrong at the banquet, Ala said.

Not reassuring.

Dycae rubbed at his temples, starting to feel an aching pain in his head start to grow. These were the most annoying allies he'd ever worked with. Let's just get into the prison as fast as possible.

Ala laughed quietly. A phrase not often uttered.

How close are we, anyway? Lek asked, looking around as if he'd suddenly spot the entrance to the prison in the wall next to him.

Ala shrugged. Not far.

Dycae fell to the back of the group, following as Ala continued winding them through the maze that was the Iroloth Palace. It definitely felt like they were moving in circles. All the hallways looked the same, and Ala never went through any of the doors to the side. The place was practically big enough to be its own village.

There was still a disturbing lack of anyone as they went farther into the depths of that palace. As Dycae had started to lose faith in Ala's directions, the end of a dark hallway they approached was blocked with a large steel door. There was a bar on the door, and Dycae saw at least three locks on it. There was also a man clad in heavy armour in front of the door.

You're not supposed to be down- the guard didn't get to finish. Ala moved like a blur, lifting the man's visor and planting a knife in his eye. Blood spattered toward the elf as she yanked the weapon out, but she sidestepped even the blood. The man fell to the ground without any further noise.

Isia above, Lek muttered under his breath. Dycae glanced to Lek, frowning slightly. Ala's prowess never ceased to disturb.

Ezila scoffed as she approached the dead guard. He keeps the keys on him, she said, taking a ring of keys from the man's belt. What kind of idiot gives keys to the man guarding the door?

Dycae quirked an eyebrow. Who else would have the keys?

Ala began wiping the blood off of her knife, having produced a brown cloth from gods-know-where. Doesn't matter. Let's move quickly, before a patrol comes around.

Ezila unlocked the door within a few moments, trying various keys in different holes, then Dycae moved forward to lift the wooden bar on the door. He heaved it aside with a grunt and stepped away for Lek to pull the door open. Lek visibly ground his teeth as he struggled with it.

Dycae looked down into the large stairwell revealed behind the door. It was even more dimly-lit than the rest of the palace, looking like a black void of steps.

What a wonderful place, Dycae remarked, glancing around to see if there happened to be a torch mounted nearby on a wall. There wasn't, naturally.

Care to lead? Ezila mocked, looking to Lek.

Lek shook his head. Nah, I'll stick to the back.

Ala snorted, taking the lead down the stairs. Dycae moved to follow right away, the others filing in behind him.

The stairs were deep, but Dycae was relieved to find mild illumination near the bottom. Lanterns were embedded in the walls, and it seemed someone kept them lit. Not well-lit, though, as the flames seemed to be dying, but at least it was something.

Blazes, this place is cold. Ezila shivered. 

Dycae glanced around. Not that cold.

Ala shrugged. I can't imagine heating is a common worry in prisons.

A dry and quiet chuckle broke from one cell as they approached. Well, well, look who's visiting? Dycae recognised the sly and snarky tone.

He looked into the cell, seeing a boy in rags curled up at the corner of the cell. The boy looked scrawny, and also appeared to be asleep. Who might that be? His attention quickly moved to the slender figure slumping against the back of the cell. Avartes had messy hair, and gazed back at Dycae with his dark-green coloured eyes. Avartes' features were equally as stunning and sharp as Ala's.

He heard Ala take in a deep breath.

Avartes? Ala asked quietly.

Avartes' attention turned to Ala. Dycae watched as his expression morphed from nonchalant to wide-eyes. Gods above and below... Ala?

The boy started to stir somewhat but showed very little other intention of waking. 

A silence settled over them, Ala and Avartes staring at each other. Lek cleared his throat, but everyone ignored him. Ala then drew in a deep breath, as Avartes rose from his seat. 

Did you know that I was still alive? Ala asked.

Avartes remained silent for a moment, before nodding. Not until a few months ago, he stated.

Ala clenched her fists. Dycae thought for a moment that she would reach through the bars and strangle her brother. Why didn't you come see me? she demanded. Why did you leave me to die in Kythria?

Avartes huffed, looking to the sleeping boy for a moment. Well, you were leading one of Wherric's armies. I got the distinct impression that I'd be killed on sight, especially with the people you sent after me. As for Kythria. . . Avartes shrugged. Not even an apology? Dycae expected that even the likes of Avartes would feel guilty about leaving his sister to die, even if it was ten years ago.

You bastard, Ala hissed. She grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him against the bars. Avartes stared at her in a bored manner.

Literally and metaphorically so. You are too, he remarked.

Ala let go, shaking her head. Still haven't lost your incessant mention of that, huh? she said, looking to the ground. Then she turned to glance at Ezila. Get us out of here, Avartes and the boy, too, she said. And Lek, you go get the others out of the palace.

He's Elric Fay, Avartes stated, gesturing to the kid.

Dycae looked to the boy in rags again. Really? The kid didn’t look as healthy as he’d imagined.

Ala sighed. An interesting fact, but I've got too much to process right now. Let's just get out of here as fast as possible and then figure everything out.

4

The people of Foren were quite ruthless compared to many of those in Aestra’s home country of Vyn. Many were violent, others here were simply doing whatever it took to survive. Aestra had taken a long time to find a safe place to settle within the Forenian village of Fyrehen. Her mother and father were still in Vyn, so she'd been alone when she came here. She needed a fortune to return home and rescue her family. 

She knew that she wasn't going to get that fortune by cutting wood and asking for money on the streets, as she had been. It was at least a start, though.

Aestra had afforded a small hut on the outskirts of Fyrehen, and every day for the past many months, she'd gone out to the woods to bring lumber back to the village. She would sell it to the baron, who seldom exchanged many words with her that didn’t involve business. Afterwards she'd use what little money she had to buy some herbs and meals from the townsfolk, and then return to her home. After her first few months of living there, no one ever really tried to bother her anymore.

Of course, Aestra was well-aware that she needed to do something more, something to earn riches to bring her back to her family. She had asked around for ways to earn, but nothing had thus far worked out. She couldn't be a bounty hunter or a soldier, as she did not know how to fight, and nothing else was available to someone as young and foreign as she was.

She was fifteen when what she thought would be her first opportunity came. Silloen Fay had come to the village, in search of a decent servant. Unfortunately, Silloen had dismissed her and taken a few younger and prettier girls instead. It had dashed Aestra's hopes.

Over the next few weeks, more and more reports came to the village that the war was going well for the nation. King Lothean had died in a battle seizing Locheste from the rebels, but now Vaeyr was going to lead them to victory against the rebellion’s forces. 

Aestra didn't like the royalty of Foren, but they were much better than the current Emperor of Vyn; the Emperor of Vyn was deranged and had a strange obsession with ‘dancing’. He'd once lured all of his nobles into a room with a steel floor and trapped them in it with the ground heated all so he could watch them dance. She wished the old, wise emperor had not been slain and replaced. It was just another reason why Aestra was determined to earn enough money for her family to move elsewhere and live peacefully.

Days came and went and Aestra kept at her work of cutting wood. She still couldn't quite bring herself to go out in search of a greater reward yet. She began staying out at night longer and longer, cutting more wood to sell. Sometimes she didn't even sleep.

That was, until the man in silver showed up.

Aestra had been chopping wood, her arms sore and her breath short. The moon was out, and had been for hours. She'd felt almost on the verge of slipping into unconsciousness, but she heard a shout in the woods. Aestra considered ignoring it but the shout came again. She hefted her axe over her shoulder, moving through the shadowed woods toward the noise.

She moved quietly, keeping close to the trees as she approached. The noise of ringing steel echoed through the woods. Rebels? Bandits? Aestra didn't know, but she kept silent as she watched. A man clad in silver-lined plate armour, wielding a morningstar and a large shield, stood against three poorly-clad men with wild looks in their eyes.

Aestra watched with great interest, as she had never seen a man in such armour before. She also knew it was expensive, and if the man died, she could likely scavenge it off his body. So, she remained hidden, watching him battle the deranged-looking men. All of his foes appeared somewhat young, but they were filthy and their clothes were torn. They seemed to charge mindlessly, no thought behind their gazes.

The armoured man crushed one's skull, kicking him aside and using his shield to block a lunge with a knife. He let out another loud shout as he slammed his shield into the face of the second man, a crunching sound ended both the man's life and the shape of his nose. Aestra didn't know weapons well, but she thought it was