An Affair to Remember (Private: Duncan only)

[Mystic]

In the back alleys of New Coldmoon under the crescent moon, a shadowed figure watched the city life around him. The air chilled the exhaled breaths of the man from the autumn breeze knowng that winter was on the way. The shadow from the limited lights gave the man cover so no one could see as couples walked together from shopping or dinner. His eyes watched all, yet his mind was elsewhere.

Dangers swirled in his head telling him a darkness would soon cover his own life. Julos army had been defeated and the Rakrya did not respond to his questions or desires anymore. He felt alone, broken from all bonds of servitude that he once held with those in power. Yet, in the shadows he held a power of his own. People still followed his every word, and his sinister deeds filled his starving soul.

Whatever this danger was that would present himself to the archamge, he would be prepared for it. For any darkness that tried to fill his life would be delivered upon the bearer in full force. The shadowed man swam in the sea of darkness, but he could feel already that this person who would seek him held himself within the shades of the light. This person held no claims to the righteous or just yet fullfilled the side of good as if his end result actually justified the potentially twisted means with which he used in his life. Could this person handle the pressures of darkness?

The Shadowed figure silently gave a roaring laughter within his head that echoed his own soul. The game was sprung, the night would be his refuge, and the hunter would soon become the hunted. The shadow had been expecting and waiting for this moment for many an era for on the eve of this victory, untold power would become his ... and New Coldmoon would be but a speck of the control he would have through out the domain of man.

[Duncan Sythe]

Syringia, what did she want? What was he to be doing? On the journey to New Coldmoon he’d avoided asking, avoided questioning his purpose. He didn’t like it of course, he didn’t like this any more than he’d liked similar situations in his past and had a feeling it was all going to go, well, strange.

None the less it was what he ‘had’ to do relatively speaking, morbid curiosity doing the work of trust, the latter being something Duncan just couldn’t bring himself to possess by and large.

Still dressed in his military grays Duncan followed Syringia, whether they were inside or out he’d simply follow, although now was the time to ask before they got too deeply into things; why were they here?

So Duncan turned his attention on the Elven Archmage, his tone light but still bearing that slightly irritated, very weary too, slips, lies, deceit, he couldn’t’ expect it not to happen for an instant.

“What’s in New Coldmoon then? What is it that will show you I’m worth teaching?”

He inquired, not sarcastic, no, not sarcastic, merely questioning, he’d already determined that being taught by the woman would only happen if he convinced her – and that only would happen if she was telling the truth.

[Anne]

The eleven woman said little on the journey, preferring to keep her own council until they reached the outskirts of the city. Duncan’s question had her furrowing her brow as she looked at the young human.

”We are here to bring a mage to justice…a follower of Julos…: she replied leaving the rest of what she might have said hanging in the air between them.

[Duncan Sythe]

“Is that all I get?”

Duncan asked, sceptical, not of the truth of the statement but of the why, why did she have to speak in riddles? Just say it out loud, make it clear, make the ‘how’ and the ‘why’ clear. Because for all Duncan’s experience he didn’t like killing or re-educating people because he remembered what it was like to be on the receiving end of attempts at both, repeating the former all too often. Being killed, or at least having someone attempt to kill you, was not pleasant and the result was worse, the lengths he’d go to in order to stay alive merely caused the repeating of the cycle, perpetuating it, endless, unbeatable.

Now he sat there on his horse, left hand nursing sword hilt gently, eyes on the Archmage, unashamedly accusing. Tell me the truth his expression said, Just tell me the damned truth and have done with it, or am I being tested on how long it takes me to give up and try to read your mind?

He couldn’t help but think that too, paranoia, circles within circles, squares squashed within circles, it was a terrible yet inevitable way of living. Worse because he hadn’t even questioned that he’d do it, he’d find this Rykra mage, perhaps he’d question the man first but in the end if his ‘tutor’ was telling the truth then the man would die, or Duncan would die, he didn’t know if he’d welcome his own death or not but because of that he actually didn’t care, so he stayed – rode, waiting.

[Mystic]

She noticed Duncan's less than happy demeanor regarding the short answer but chose to say nothing as he stirred to and fro until they reached the outskirts of the city. Syringia could not help but be slightly perturbed at the lack of patience that exumed in most humans. Not exactly a good trait for one wishing to enter the filed of patience as an Archmage. After all, not all races were as gifted at patience as the elves were.

"All i can tell you regarding this issue is that a darkenss stirs in New Coldmoon that most do not even notice. We seek an Archmage Mystic that no one has ever seen before. How he has stayed hidden from us is beyond our conprehension, but he has. It will be your responsability to track him down and remove his presence. At the same time, seek out this darkness and ensure that it is gone forever. Something stirs here that Julos was aware of and kept hidden.

Remain secretive in all you do, but if you run into people that also are on the same path as you then join forces. It is feared that this Mystic does not operate alone. Your success and your life might count on such aid."

The two made the gates of the city of New Coldmoon with little time to spare before the setting suns and spent a little time being questioned by the guards at the gate. First glance made it easy to see that the city was one of the more snobbish city's that did not grant entrance to the darker races and even a few others.

"Shall we find an Inn to seek evening shelter?"

[Duncan Sythe]

Duncan nodded.

“Very well, we’ll find your Inn and you can explain to me how this is going to be played, you’ll obviously be watching my progress but I somehow doubt that includes bowing in to save me if I mess up, no?”

It wasn’t a question, Duncan wasn’t expecting Ioannes style miracles and since they never existed anyhow it was kind of a no-brainer. As for ‘remain secret’ and ‘find the rogue mage’, it was getting more…incredibly every second, he had more questions still, all the information he could get…this was just like the ‘Game’ only playing with higher stakes.

“So what do we know about him.” Duncan asked as they proceeded to the inn. “And more precisely how do you know he exists and what he’s doing if no-one’s seen him before? I’m sure you understand I need all the information you currently have in order to have any chance of doing this rather crazy thing you ask of me.”

He shrugged.

“I know what it’s like to have overall control of a city and how easy it is to curve an outsider when you do, so I can appreciate the word about remaining hidden but if this Mystic has as much control as you say then this isn’t going to be easy, exactly what are his aims? Because if I know that, along with everything else, I might be able to figure out where to start to begin with.”

Just reasonable questions, Duncan wasn’t trying to push for something the Elven women didn’t know but he did want to know what he could find out and drain her dry of information, if he started walking around looking for ‘a random mystic with an unknown agenda’ he’d have to rely on fate to dump him into the man – something he wasn’t keen on at all.

The problem was though if the Mystic was even half as inventive as Duncan was – or even more so – when it came to spells then he could be anyone or anything, from the lowest beggar in existence to a noble or the Thane of New Coldmoon himself, a recent immigrant from Alleria Prime, a soldier on leave, anything and everything could be an Archmage Mystic if the man had enough extra skills and knowledge of the profession and the manners of the society he was in to fake it… plus with a little arcane creativity the illusion wouldn’t even be detectable by Duncan, not easy at all.

[Mystic]

Syringia's entire demeanor changed once they entered the city. Looking about, man elves wandered the streets with a few kattas and halflings innermixed. Syringia felt at home in New Coldmoom. "Ah, there is something refreshing about walking the streets with fellow true blooded elves. It is a feeling of unity not felt anywhere else by an elf in Enamoria. Silrosia has this effect on me too. Simply magnificent."

Duncan's first thoughts could have been that she was ignoring his questions, and he would have been right in this assumption. Syringia did not care to answer everything just yet. This was a test and much of what Duncan felt he needed to know was to be sought and found by him on his own. She looked to him with a glance and wondered if he was ready for this. If he truly desired to reach the level of Archmage. To look at the human though, easily answered the question. Duncan did hold the desire, he was just not paying attention to the principles of being tested.

Eventually they made their way to the Drunken Dwarf Tavern and Inn where Syringia purchased a room for a few cycles. THe tow made their way to Duncan's new room, and she closed the door behind them. Gracefully she turned and ignored the appearance of the room sitting in a chair nearest her. The room was of simple necessity; a bed, a table with two chairs, a footlocker, and a water basin with a few rags next to it. A lantern with fresh oil rested on the floor next to the bed.

"Duncan, all I wil tell you is that an underground element exists here in New Coldmoon. It is run in secrecy like most undergrouns do. This Archmage is attached to this organization somehow. We are not aware of what this darkenss is that filters through the city. We only know through spies that Julos sought it too but found nothing.

This is a test and you have a chance of failing which could end your life. We will not interfere be it for the best or worst of situations. Every archamage has tested in some fashion like this before you, and all know the risk involved with obtaining such ranking. It is believed you can do this mission even though the risk is great."

Syringia rose from her chair and walked back to the door. "I have faith in you, Duncan Scythe, and look forward to seeing you once you've completed the task. Fair ye well and good luck." Without waiting for a goodbye or another potential question, Syringia walked out and closed the door behind her.

[Duncan Sythe]

His horse dealt with Duncan left Syringia to her lack of answers as he entered the room, putting down saddle bags and backpack, slipping suitable items into his foot locker but keeping a hold on what he really needed, the swords, a few sets of clothes, some ID’s, ironically there was nothing else. What he’d been expecting didn’t happen though, he’d thought the Elven Archmage would stay. But no, even as Duncan was unpacking she turned away and left, leaving the other Mystic looking at the door, frowning.

For although he seemed to technically have the physical power of an Archmage and some information it was clear he was not only lacking a lot of theory and knowledge but also the reception of the Archmage community of the empire, a surprising thing that one even existed.

He wasn’t only a mage though and it was clear the Elven mage knew that, for all he had to use his magical abilities as an integral part to how he’d deal with this situation it was just as important to use what he knew that wasn’t magical. To Duncan Mystic’s were certainly some of the less connected magi, the disassociation, the change of self, the fact that an open Mystic would be persecuted for their abilities all factored into how any Mystic was mentally and physically, it attracted a certain type of person just like any other sphere did.

Shaking his head at this he finished unpacking spare clothes and other items, then began on the important matters, now left alone he rose from kneeling by the foot locker and locked the door, then he stripped down to virtually nothing, using rags and water to clean off accumulated dirt and travel waste, just a beginning.

Next he packed away his usual clothing, no more blacks and greens, no more military garb, already he was thinking through how this thing would work; after all the important factor was; as with the situation in the IoI camp over in the mountains to the east, keeping himself an unknown for as long as possible. If it meant taking cycles upon cycles to infiltrate the group then so be it, Duncan was past the ends vs means debate and had decided, for good or ill, that the ends could justify the means even though he had his own set of limits to that attitude.

So now, dressing in grays and browns, slipping old brown trousers on along with a dirtied gray shirt and a brown cloak Duncan added on some newer purchases: Elven steel bracers on the wrists, greaves on the shins above worn in black boots; last but not least Duncan added on the Mithril breastplate; now devoid of any markings, that he’d acquired from Laeontir a while ago.

Standing once more after tightening a leg strap Duncan went to the bed where he’d put down his armory, removing an Aetherium Fallax sword and an old Mithril dagger that slipped into a sheath in his left bracer, that would do him.

Now standing Duncan slipped his room key into an inside cloak pocket, accompanying it with his old Captain’s military ID; no visa however. He could fake a visa with a small, imperceptible illusion on a military ID and then, if he got captured, they still wouldn’t be able to figure out who he was without a Mystic… just a precaution, even though if they found the room key they’d be able to trace it back and find his ID’s…ah well, nothing was perfect.

He left the room as it was though, this wasn’t the time to sleep…firstly moving to Meditation and casting an Illusion over himself to appear to exit in his old black and green clothing Duncan went out onto the streets; looking for a quiet space without anyone watching to alter the illusion. A simple Mana shape allowed Duncan to move into his guise for the night, revising the Illusion over his body, a shaped skin of mana that not only projected the image of Duncan as a completely normal looking, if somewhat worn middle aged soldier…a veteran of the Malice war, a former Malician with a look for something new; it’d do fine.

Graying brown hair, a small amount of facial hair around the lips and chin, an added scar down the left cheek; through the left eye – to leave it with a milky, washed out look, a new person was born as the armor and sword became visible. Preparations made Duncan adjusted his direction and headed off through New Coldmoon, looking for increasingly run down areas; he needed an information source and the best way to get it was to be attacked first.

He was calm about it though; he’d done this sort of thing before. This hopefully made it easy to keep his mind in Meditation, knowing the illusion with its extra divination; a small trick to tell anyone watching – even another mage that ‘there was no spell’ and ‘there was no enlarged Vis’, would hopefully disguise a) the fact Duncan was not looking like he should and b) that he was a mage in any way, shape or form, he felt almost comfortable because of it; this was familiar territory…except for the fact he knew the person he was dealing with had exactly the same advantages he did Arcaically speaking.

[Mystic]

Duncan spent his time carefully and wisely from meditating and cleaning to the altering of his persona to something more comfortable than a suit to a noble. His ability to use his illusions had become so rudimentary, he barely had to think to make the act. The whole while he had that slight twinge in his mind that said he really knew nothing and Syringia seemed more of a nuisance with useless information than an aid or source for knowledge. Duncan had spent the eras of his life trusting himself more than anyone else and holding to an ends justifies the means type of demeanor that had helped him to survive and even prosper. This situation seemed yet another chance to survive whuile prospering on his own to the ranks of the Archmage.

The night air held a slight winter chill to it even though New Coldmoon resided in the southern part of the Empire. THe moonlight was minimal as the crescent shape of the moon hung in the night sky. The stars held the glamour they allows did like little fireflies that aided in lighting the way only for mischief to creep around the corner.

Duncan clung to the streets looking like the perfect victim for a thief to pounce on as he wondered from street to street looking for the shadier areas and dirtier allies that might host some of the rag tag element to perform such a stupid act. Patience was something akin to a mystic and well established in Duncan's frame of mind. This game of katta and mousai took time to set up and the victim had to be perfect. Duncan knew he could not look to easy as a target or else the cutthroat would probably be more of a whino than some member of an underground organization.

A few hours into the ruse, Duncan finally found what he was looking for. It came in the form of human who popped out of the shadows. Though well hidden, not unnoticed by the real hunter. THe man was dressed in dark leathers and held out a hand crossbow aimed at Duncan. The streets were narrower int his part of the town and the buildings slightly run down. It would almost appear as an alleyway with hovel like apartment windows rising up three stories all around him. It was late enough at night that most residents were asleep and so no windows held the light of candles. Duncan could tell that others were about but could not yet distinguish numbers nor weapons.

"You be in the wrong place at the righ time ... for me. Yuor life means nothing to me, so make it worth something to you by giving me any and all valuable you carry. If you think it ain't valuable, give it anyway. I'll determine the truth to that. Shut up and cooperate, and you'll live to see the morrow." The burglar said standing about seven feet from Duncan having enough space to fire his crossbow before an attack could be made on him by a middle aged man with a sword. But Duncan was something more ... something the burglar was sure to not have expected.

[Duncan Sythe]

OOC: Many thanks.

IC:

Duncan, ironically, was seeking promotion to the ranks of the official Archmagi, lacking mainly the techniques and a full working, tutored knowledge of its spells rather than its power alone; although sadly he knew all to well that much of that power came not form extended Vis – something he had after the Sentinel incident in prime – but from the abilities that allowed the speed of casting and meditation to be increased, along with other exclusive knowledge.

Therefore this was a reluctant, if somewhat cautious test as he ventured forth, confidence in his abilities to survive if not to fulfil the ‘mission’ he’d been sent on, for as he’d thought before in the room he thought again as he travelled; it didn’t take an expert Mystic to know what Duncan knew about disguise, and a Rykra mage that had survived the organizations successive rise and fall would be no novice.

Now though things had come to the beginning of the next stage. Initiation into the streets of New Coldmoon was complete, now it was time to test the waters and discover who he was dealing with. Moving his hands into clear view from his cloak, spreading them slightly to reveal his belt beneath, he clearly showed the shiny breastplate and well made greaves and bracers off, not to mention the indeterminate sword sheathed at his left hip in wood.

Just as the veteran would there was a slight twist of the lips, annoyance mingling with anger, he’d messed up, then again surely the denizens would be wondering why such a man would bother to come here in the first place unless he was looking for work.

“I’m now going to begin by reaching for my money pouch in my cloak very slowly.”

Duncan said in the illusionary deep voice as he glanced downward, averting his eyes from the roughian’s view – not that the man would probably know much about magic anyhow – as he retrieved the money pouch with its limited crowns from his cloak with a slow movement of his right hand, meanwhile casting Sentinel with a brief mental flick over a short range. Just around this individual area, invisible arcane globes spurting out from him in search of how many people were involved in this and their locations. Forming a quick burst of arcana with the divining globes that would relay information back as he tossed the money pouch to the floor between the two.

“Wait.”

Duncan requested quietly as his left hand began to move to his sword hilt, not the right, after all if it was the left and the mugger knew what he was doing he’d know there was little damage Duncan could do by holding the sword sheath in his left hand with his right outstretched away from his body…if only the man really did know what Duncan was.

By now he hoped for information to be coming in, each movement he made infinitely slow and refined, a gesture that he did not wish to die while at the same time knowing what the crossbow holding robber must also know; he couldn’t guarantee hitting Duncan in the face with the crossbow since he’d have to jerk his wrist to fire it, enough of a movement perhaps that he could react, after all he only had one shot and if he had friends they might not get there in time to save him, no, Duncan doubted the man would be fool enough to test him for his slow movements and complying, if he’d wanted Duncan dead he would have tried to kill him early.

Now though Duncan’s left hand lay on the wood of his sword sheath just below the hilt, ‘preparing’ to unclip it and lift it free of his belt as he received information from his Sentinels, arcane information beacons that encompassed the air around him and perhaps even, hopefully penetrated the hovels and their darkened windows, he’d pulled more Ara and essence too now, a store of mana building for what would come next, the only question lay in where the ‘others’ were, how many and how they were armed, for Duncan only needed one man alive to begin with and he had no compunction killing a bunch of muggers, however organized.

Still he was admittedly cautious, that same caution showing on his illusionary features, after all things could go badly for him as much for the man with the crossbow, although he knew that when he acted he’d have a definite advantage, for surprise was all and what would happen would defiantly surprise the band of mugging fools.

[Mystic]

Duncan had no problem releasing his sentinels to retrieve the data that he required to continue with his plan for knowledge. Every move he made was methodically slow enough not to upset the mugger yet not allow him to fire his bow, take the tossed pouch, and head for the shadows from where he first arrived. Duncan's experience in life told him that the man who held the crossbow seemed confident in his actions, and his body movements made it clear he had done this enough to know what he was doing with the crossbow. His hands were steady and his eyes never left his prey.

A soft breeze filled the night sky as the information Duncan wanted made it's way to him. A second crossbowman stood upon a roof top to Duncan's left side a little bit behind him probably forty feet away. A third crossbowman stood behind Duncan slowing coming from where he came. The man was near to fifty feet and quietly closing the distance.

The initial mugger looked slightly perplexed at the request to wait by Duncan. His look was a cross between angered and amused. He lowered his crossbow knowing what he thought Duncan did not know ... that others held Duncan in their sights. He knelt down close enough to the pouch to be able to pick it up though he did not. His eyes still rested on Duncan.

"Why in the heavens above would I want to wait to take what is now mine? You would appear to have some sort of marbles down below my friend, though I fear they come from up top leaving you a bit shy in the smarts. I made two requests of you to see that your life remained in tact. First, I told you to throw me everything that was of value and that such value was for me to decide not you. You have broken this rule by tossing a simply bag of coins when a sword rest near your right hand gods know what else you might have hidden.

My second command was for your silence. Telling me to wait obviously means that you have forgotten what that words means. The fact that I have not shot you is simply because your stupidity has intrigued me as to why I should stop. Thus, i'll give you one more chance to follow my simple orders or else i'll have you killed. First, place your hands in the air and away from any weapon that you possess. Second, why in the hell should I wait?"

[Duncan Sythe]

Very well, an organized group, then again crossbows had their disadvantages as Duncan well knew, he just had to take advantage of that. Unfortunately the mugger who had just accused Duncan of lacking intelligence showed little himself, how exactly did Duncan answer the question given to him and remain silent? Well, he had the drop on those around him, the Sentinel spell would allow him to see someone beginning to get into a position to fire in time to respond, plus there had to be some signal from the initial mugger to initiate firing, enough time for Duncan to cast Non Corporeal if he had it already prepared.

This he did, slowly drawing mana as his hands raised away from his body, a plan forming, relying on the mugger sustaining a minimum of curiosity to get his questions answered and, secondarily, approaching Duncan to acquire what he wanted, still, in the case of that failing there was always a fall back, running through a wall into a building admittedly caused problems with acquiring the information he wanted but he’d at least be lacking crossbows aimed at him. Then again there was always another option; stun the crossbowmen from a distance and capture the leader, preferable if he could manage it but not something he desired to risk at this point, not yet, he’d let things play out a little first.

“How am I supposed to comply with the request to keep silent and give you my weapons if my hands are in the air and you’re asking me to answer questions? I asked you to wait as I removed them, the crowns went first as they were the easiest to throw, either you come and get it all off me or you let me disarm myself, take your pick.”

Duncan’s pseudo persona inquired roughly as he wove the beginnings of the next stage of his plan, an Animation combined with Illusion to produce a puppet like Illusionary person, overlaying Duncan. For now he had it follow his movements, effectively becoming a pointless shadow but in a while it could prove useful as a distraction, as it had in Olympia, as it would in the future.

With energy drawn for Non-Corporeal, his Illusion and Sentinel spells still in place and a copy of himself in the form of an Illusionary Person waiting for his command atop his form Duncan felt he was ready. He simply waited for the reply from the mugger, ready at any point if it became clear a crossbow was about to be fired to cast Non-Corporeal, flowing mana into himself and conjuring it into ghostly essence that would change his physical form as he rolled sideways, leaving the Illusionary Person in his place, so that – in the darkness, the form of Duncan Sythe the veteran would remain in the alley as the real Duncan rolled through a building wall.

He doubted that would be necessary just yet though, the mugger would not want to mess up and have one of his accomplices fire a crossbow, potentially damaging pricey goods with a badly aimed bolt, or miss completely and put himself in danger. No, Duncan suspected the man still felt he had absolute control and would use it, he probably got his kicks from more than stealing the goods, certainly his smart-assed remarks indicated a certain ego about his job and the control it gave him.

Still Duncan hoped the lack of much fear in his remark would give the crossbow wielding mugger a reminder that he wasn’t dealing with a noble wearing a 2000 crown pretty-sword and thought he owned the place, as far as the mugger was concerned Duncan was a strangely armed and decidedly unfriendly ex-Malician.

[Mystic]

A laughter louder than meant was released from the mugger as Duncan spoke against his commands. He had become so eroutine in his theivery, that he had not had anyone yet question him of the double negative that accompanied his own discussions. Maybe there was more to this middle aged gaurd than expected. Still, the mugger was beginning to like him none the less.

The mugger decided to pick up the bag and pull it uner his belt with one hand while the other held the crossbow, though it no longer aimed at Duncan's chest. He stood up from his task and began to eye Duncan more cautiously as if weighing him. There was something about Duncan that obviously held the mugger in curiosity. He began to rub his chin with his free hand.

"You do not seem scared given the situation making me think you are confident to handle one on one confrontation. Yet you make no move making me suspect that you at least assume I have others around. You wear the clothing and such of a veteran warrior that makes me wonder why you would even walk in such a place knowing that gaurds less frequent such areas and people like me like to hand around to cause trouble.

This leads me to think you are looking for trouble and have me weary of what will tanspire next for you gave up your coin too quickly for me to think you plan on allowing me to keep it, and you hesitate as if waiting for something else." The mugger decided to remain cautious and pulled his crossbow back towards the chest of Duncan though showing no signs of firing yet.

"Tell me why you seek out the shadows of my domain, soldier, for I now grow weary and skeptical of this confrontation. Your instincts are correct if you wonder if others take aim upon you. Keep this peaceful if you wish to maintain your life. Why are you here?"

[Duncan Sythe]

Duncan didn’t react to the revelation about crossbows since he already knew, which made keeping the illusionary Malicians face impassive just as easy. Whether the man before him was intelligent or merely sly was still to be determined, Duncan didn’t really mind either way provided he was co-operative.

The man’s curiosity could therefore work in Duncan’s favour, although the Mystic suspected it only ran to the point of entertaining Duncan before he tried to relieve him of his valuables Duncan still held the trump cards, therefore he lost nothing in replying.

“You are correct.” Duncan, the Malician that is, said with an impassive nod. “I seek a certain presence in New Coldmoon that you’re probably aware of, if not directly. It is a presence that, if my guess is correct, is causing your business and those who share in it no little number of problems in its attempts to gain control. I’m merely here to rid you of that problem, although I admit I’m working for an outside employer.”

Duncan would have shrugged but it might have been taken wrong, instead he merely pondered getting three people to drop their crossbows at once, technically it was possible and not hard but all too often the simple messed up because fate decided his luck was going too well, therefore he always played his cards close to his hand…so for now he simply added to his words, letting the mugger think he still led the confrontation.

“I presumed, correctly it seems that the best way to hear of rumours regarding that which I seek would be to find an experienced denizen such as yourself. To put it bluntly I am looking to do business, those crowns you have and my weapons are insignificant compared to the value of what I can do for you, I would advise you to think carefully upon my offer.”

Because if you don’t then you’ll soon have something sharp at your neck. Duncan considered, suspecting that putting two crossbow wielding villains out of the picture would not prove problematic for one such as himself, after all in certain places – namely Olympia – he’d managed to take on three guards, one of them equipped with certain magical resistant items, from an unarmed start, a trio of crossbow armed street thugs was not a trio of trained soldiers, however experienced they were.