The three men were Kerrians, but they could just as easily have been mistaken for a trio of Bursians. Perhaps this is what they intended. Tall as their Kerrian brethren, but thin and stooped of posture, they wore fine scholarly clothing and kept their facial hair well trimmed. They were a far cry from the drunken revelers in the town before them.

Still, they argued with each other in the purest of Kerrian. No traces of Au or Tyrisia met their lips. It had not been an easy task, but they had managed it after a great deal of practice, study, and visits into the deep wildernesses of their country. They had spoken to villagers far from the east coast, ones who’d only heard of the horror that was the East.

These men were rebels. Thieves of Tyrisian intellectual property, masters of illegal explosives, scholars into forbidden subjects. They were men of the Martillo.

And tonight, they have a special mission. They are all abuzz about it, excited as they should righteously be. If they succeed—and some of them aren’t so sure—their research will jump ahead countless years. They may even begin to see the fruits of it within their own lifetimes, one of them whispers. Another shakes his head and loudly declares—as he is shushed by his comrades—that they cannot trust ‘her’. The other two exchange glances, wondering if they really can succeed. At least failure will not come at the hands of the Tyrisians, they agree.

The first looks down at his watch. It was a clunky, large thing, not fine and delicate like the ones they had in Tyrisia. He’d made it himself.

“Es hora,” he said suddenly, a frown on his well-weathered face. It’s time.

His scholarly brothers nodded, looking at each other, each clasping the watch-wearer on a shoulder, their eyes speaking volumes to him. Feeling newly confident, the man hurried away and left the two to deal with the mercenary.




The tall, well-dressed Kerrian man approached Belo slowly and warily, but careful to keep a friendly and respectful demeanor about him. He did indeed respect her, and had no desire to hurt her. With luck, she would cooperate, and the mercenary’s help would not be needed.

“Solo, bella dama?” he offered, smiling politely at her. He spread his large tan hands, hoping she took it as an indicator that he was no threat. He knew the girl was a half-blood, and had spent her childhood in Tyrisia—the kind that he had little experience with. Still, surely friendliness would make sense to even a Tyrisian. He cleared his throat and pulled out a handkerchief, coughing into it before putting it away.

“I have a proposition for you, sister. You could do great things for your ancestors, and your people, if you so choose. And by your people I mean…” he turned, motioning grandly to the stunning view of the valley below. “Kerria, of course.”

He crinkled his eyes, smiling at her as well as he could, and awaited her response.

Far behind him, hidden in the woods, waited his faithful soldiers. And soon, their elf.





Back in the forests just outside ma’Deu, the two scholars were arguing with each other again in rapidfire Kerrian. Before the elf’s arrival, the subject had been the safety of their third. But now, as she approached, it quickly turned to an argument over who would get to approach her. Their meaning was all too obvious for one with the trained and experienced eye of the mercenary: the twin bulges, their sudden ferocity towards each other, the way they looked her up and down again and again. Finally the eldest won, and he found himself swaggering almost comically across the clearing towards her. A too-wide grin was plastered across his face, and he took the time to look at her from top to bottom again before dropping the jewel purse in her small hand.

She had made it painstaking clear that the hefty payment was simply for not turning them in to Tyrisia. Though, still they did not trust her—after all, she was Tyrisian herself, even if not a human—and had taken careful pains to keep their names and information hidden from her. No, her real payment for bringing them the Innate was a mystery—one they shuddered to think of.

“He’s asking her now, at the docks. She’s the one with the metal arm—not that you need to know, we know—and if she says yes, follow them and ensure it stays that way. If she says no, well…make her say yes.”