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Chapter 1                
~Into the Pit~

  To say it was a foul night would be the grossest of understatements, it was in fact a miserably treacherous winters night and in the midst of the full furry of a harsh blizzard in which three young men found themselves making their way down a desolate street towards the southern quarter.  The buffeting frigid northern winds burnt the exposed faces beneath their hooded cloaks; the raging snow fell like frozen needles pelting them painfully even beneath their layers of travel garments and the youths fought for each forward step they took against the gale. The heavy snow lay chin deep as they trudged along at a snails pace with drifts gathering up to the sills of darkened windows they passed, no doubt the citizens inside either huddled by their fires deep within or already tucked up in cozy beds for the night; they were the lucky ones. To say that such an excursion was folly was yet another understatement; it was madness, those citizens of the capital with a shred of common sense had abandoned the streets shortly after nightfall, well before the storm had hit, the few who had remained soon gave into reason and quickly found a way home. The only ones left outside were the unfortunate souls bound to the night watches at the gates and walls, they along with a very few madmen who stubbornly ventured out to local taverns or other nefarious destinations; these three youths were bound for the latter. 

  The three youths trudged along the broad avenue stooped over into their cloaks, staggering threw deep snow drifts or slipping around on sheets of hidden ice; there was no light to aid them in their navigation, the moons were blotted out by a sea of low angry clouds and all the lamps had long since been extinguished either by the night guards or the howling storm. The youths hurried as best they could against the stinging winds, at first they had stayed on the main high streets thinking the constant day traffic would provided an relief from the deepening snow, but soon they found no matter where they turned there was no escape from the blizzards ravages so in the end they opted to duck into the network of narrow alleys snaking their way towards the wall which divided the western quarter and the southern.

  When they had left, or more to the point escaped their chaperons before beginning this clearly ill conceived trek into the night, the first of the night watch bells in their brassy chorus had tolled all over the four quadrants of Authralliun glistening white capital of the noble kingdom of Aultenvique. The first of the night tolls were sounded at dusk; there would be a further three tolls before the first of the silver bells rang at dawn, and with the enormous shadow of the destined wall still looming silently within the blinding snow storm the youths groaned as the second watch was sounded. This meant not only were they painfully far from their intended destination, but running tediously late for the nights adventures which had long since begun without them. There was no hurrying, they may have been mad to venture out in a storm and at a time such as it was, but they were sensible enough to know any speed might send them careening to their injury. The three youths also knew that once their disappearance was discovered they would be heatedly pursued but took comfort in knowing that the guards sent out to reclaim them would join their struggle against the vicious blizzard despite being on horseback, that once they reached the southern quarter this pursuit would no doubt be abandoned and that their destination and passage would be obscured not only by the treacherous winds and snow but of the up most secrecy that they would not be discovered until they chose to return.

  Still, this did not make their trek any less arduous as they were forced to abandon the relative sanctuary of the allies and once again re-enter the furry of the winds and into the open avenue leading to the only gate to the southern quarter utilized after dark. Seeing the faint lights which lit the mammoth thirty meter high, fifteen meter wide gate tucked into the imposing sheer wall face veiled slightly by the endless white of the nights snow storm the youths managed to hasten their pace and found a little respite from the raging winds once they were dwarfed beneath the massive wall’s imposing sway. They also found the snow diminish as the cobbled road began to slope gradually towards the yawning arch of the gigantic gate, with every step they now took drawing them closer to the yawning cavernous gate above the wet and possibly icy stones beneath their feet became steeper. They paused briefly looking up at it then glanced about to find a less treacherous path, they settled on the well worn cart ruts worn into the stone ramp, but this still left them a slippery incline to navigate as the hastened up towards the night watch doors.

  Once the winds and whipping snow had died they youths stomped the clinging snow from their boots and shook the curtain of white from their cloaks as they approached the half dozen guards milling around a shielded fire in an attempt to remain warm. One of the guards, no doubt the most senior ranking broke away when the youth’s presence was noticed, but the guard did not stray far from his comrades and they all turned to watch and wait for the three cloaked figures to negotiate the finale twenty or so feet of smooth cobbled slope in silence. Just before the youths reached the guards a second soldier moved away and into the thick armoured door cut into the gates wall which lead into a well protected barracks, a moment later they could just make him out levelling an arrow at them threw the slit like window on one side of the now sealed door, then another appeared in the other on the opposite side. The youths knew that they could quite easily be turned away at this moment, it was well within the night guards power to deny any traveller after dark access to any of the quadrants, though why one would dare to venture into the southern at any time of day or night was foolish at the best of times let alone in such disagreeable weather. The youths also knew very well that should the guards be unsatisfied with their false documents, or should the youth persist, they would face five well-trained soldiers, two hidden archers and in moments, after the alarm bell was sounded within the barracks, scores of reinforcements from the surrounding walls. Though the three friends had on many occasions of late crossed into this quadrant, it was still a tricky business, and not one to be taken lightly, care would have to be taken; which is why when the youths were no more then ten paces away the smallest of the three stepped forward to greet the grim faced guards.

  From within his cloak he produced their false documents and handed them politely to the senior night watchmen, a sergeant by rank given the appearance of his armour, but one they had not crossed before. The ashen faced middle aged soldier eyed the three parchments carefully, then sized up the youths with a slow steely glare but refrained to speaking and for a time they all stood in silence waiting for him to decide their fate that evening.

  “Just where in blazes do you three pups think your heading on this Gods forsaken night, and what business do you have in the quarter at this untimely hour?” the sergeant demanded coldly, snarling as bitterly as the raging blizzard not more then thirty feet behind them. He fixed a narrow eyed dark glare onto the youth before him roughly shoving the parchments back into the smaller man’s chest.

  The young man accepted and rolled the documents slowly replacing them within his heavy cloak, then pulled back his hood and bowed his head politely then lied. “Our evening business was hampered by this grievous storm, we were unfortunately even further delayed by the throngs fleeing for their warms homes and further inconvenienced to discover there was no further rooms available at the closest inn.” He paused sighing over dramatically while inclining his head back towards the rampaging storm behind his friends. “You see my good knight, we have business with the proprietor of Silver Tri-leaf trading company, Yahrnesk Grulldurph in the morn and without retreating back into the vast western streets, we thought it best to press on and seek shelter within the southern quadrant.” The youth concluded with a pain filled but friendly smile, making out that their ordeal was far worse then actually it was.

  The Silver Tri-leaf company was the last of the semi reputable but by far the wealthiest and most notable businesses left within the southern quarter, and the only one to still trade outside its walls. The owner, Yahrnesk was well know not only throughout the area but carried the reputation of being a famously shrewd businessman as well as being incredibly corrupt though the latter was more whispered then spoke. It was plausible that the youths had business with said company; their expertly forged documents made them out to be partners of a caravan route to the far west but their passage still hung on the gruff sergeant’s mood.

 “It’s too bloody late for you soggy babes to be wondering about, not on my watch will I let you boys into the wolves pit behind me with good conscious. Get yourselves back the way you came, the southern quadrant ain’t no place for kids, its bad enough in full daylight let alone after dark and especially in this…” the sergeant appeared to be about to let loose a slew of curses, but instead gestured angrily over the youths shoulder. “This ungodly weather! You boys find some shelter, if there is any to be had tonight, but you find it in the western, not the southern, you hear!” the last was growled harshly as obviously the soldiers mind was made up and he motioned for them to leave before he too began to return to his post as his comrades snickered around the invitingly warm firelight.

  The leading youth took a deep breath, though he hid it well and took another, very cautious step forward. This was when he must act as delicately as he could, he took an instant’s glance to the narrow windows and instantly saw that both guards still had their arrows trained on them from the depths within. Very slowly the young man cleared his throat while lifting his empty palms up so everyone could see. “If you please sir knight, I final word perhaps might persuade you to reconsider?”

  The sergeant spun as if to erupt with the same furry as the storm behind, but froze as he eyed the small pouch the youth skilfully produced from one of his long gloves. The soldier made a vain frown as he eyed the leather sack displayed before his greedy eyes and the youth dropped it gingerly into his waiting gauntleted hand saying. “We three may be simple boys as sir knight has said, but we are not foolish; this is not the first time we have ventured into the southern quadrant.”

  Bribes were not uncommon throughout Authralliun, and though it was not openly spoken about these had become as commonplace in the capital as the rising sun, it was even rumoured that such activities had spread right to the high council and even the king himself. The sergeant prized open the pouch giving it a quick shake inspecting its golden contents and without looking up waved the three forward. His eyes still fixed on the coins within he grumbled. “Present yourselves.” He paused looking up as the three gathered before him silently in a line. “When they find your mutilated bodies in the morn discarded in some canal or broken in an alley, and I have no doubt the day watch will; I want to know I did not send you to your agonising dooms empty handed.”

 With that the three friends carefully parted their cloaks displaying the blades they each wore on their respective hips being cautious not to make any move close to them. The sergeant inspected them once more and gave a dissatisfied grunt followed by a curt nod before stepping aside thumbing at the heavily armoured night doors. “Get yourself to 'The Glowing Grouse', its an inn which isn’t far and I reckon you’ll know it if you’ve frequented the quadrant as often as you say. Mind you; you’d get yourselves there post haste if you know whats best and keep yourselves to yourselves, any trouble outta you lot and you won’t have to answer to us, you’ll be stretching your own necks for your troubles! I don’t wanna see your ugly mugs ever again, you hear!?”

  The youths nodded in agreement but had no intention of frequenting that establishment; theirs lay in the very heart of the twisting streets of the southern quadrant well out of reach or aid of the night watch. They pulled their cloaks tightly about them and moved past the soldier as his comrades groaned moving away from the fireside to the huge metallic door, one tapped the solid surface while the others began unbolting the numerous locks. A moment later, as the boys waited behind the soldiers completing their works sliding huge iron bolts away from the solid rock frame, the small spy hatch squeaked open and the nearest soldier mumbled something through. Then there came identical sounds from the other side of the armoured night door followed finally by a number of short raps, after that the remaining guards began pulling open the door. Once completed the youths were motioned through the gap, then the door shut unceremoniously behind them with a resounding metallic crash and after passing the half dozen guards also standing around an identical fire, none so much as paid the youths a second glance as they walked down the broad ramp, back into the roaring storm ahead and into the darkness of the southern quarter.
 
 The capital of Aultenvique had long boasted a great and noble history, its reputation had spread throughout the known world since its inception over a thousand years ago, but none shared the infamy of its southern quarter. From its discovery and myths surrounding its claim by the first king Alourmar the great to the first creation of the kingdom. From the beauty of the tranquil lake Addrasheira the capital now surrounds to the trio of great rivers both feeding her and flowing away, from the massive water falls to Authralliun’s many gardens, fountains, parks and tree lined boulevards, her beauty was renown. From the capitals many monuments, temples and grand edifices to the island palace in all her magnificence, the crowning jewel in the capital’s noble crown, first claimed by Aultenvique’s first king subsequent four incarnations and over two hundred years of rebuilding and renovating until at last it dominated the view of all who lived here. From the glorious opulence of the northern quarter, a place where all of the capital’s affluent rich called home to the grandeur of the stadiums and arenas situated in the eastern, to the simple splendour of the markets, bazaars, shops and lush greenery of the western. From the massive inner walls, completed many centuries ago and originally built as a protective barrier for the earliest settlers, standing over eighty meters tall and twenty meters thick now serving as the outer limits of the capital; to the greatest feature of them all, the gleaming perfectly smooth white outer walls, standing proudly serving as a shimmering white beckon for all to see for miles around, it stands easily over twice in stature and width as its sister the inner wall, with its elegant crenellations, numerous bastions and great towers rising proudly into the sky and dominated the landscape asserting the capital both in reputation and eminence.
 
  But for all its glory, none could compare with the bloody reputation and treacherous infamy now mired by the southern quarter, it had never been a desirable place, even before the first stone of its foundation was laid the area was already sired with an ill favour. The original settlers, the ones who called themselves kin, clansman or followers of Alourmar made their homes on the western plateau overlooking the lake and at that time the lands now occupied by the southern quarter were a quagmire of swamps and wetlands, and small rivulets filtering away from the lake along with the two huge rivers; a place unfit for life and even then widely considered a blight and well worthy of ignoring. The area’s infamy only grew over the years becoming a hive for criminals and undesirables to ply their trades while the rest of the capital and her walls sprung up blissfully dismissing its presence and mere existence.
 
  It was only until his majesty Audrahirl, the fourth king of Aultenvique turned his eyes to the swamps and saw their potential did construction begin and that in itself boasted a long history of blood, pain and tragic loose. King Audrahirl had hoped that a new development, accommodations and docks would inject new life into the area and attract the correct ilk of citizen thus solving the quarter’s notorious past; it did not. It only took the thieves and gangs three decades to worm their way back into control; since then the southern quarter has fallen into they sway. The once fine warehouses, shops and buildings now fell into disarray, houses once filled with families seeking to stake their claim into the fortunes of trade now sank into slums filled with beggars seeking only survival. Scores of attempts were made by a number kings to cleanse these streets and eradicate the criminals from the capital by force, countless tomes and volumes have been dedicated to its chequered history and endless debates raged in the council over the long years on how to solve the quandary until at last the quarter was eventually left to its own devises.
 
 So when the sergeant had insinuated the danger and likelihood of the youths demise, it was not a threat but a certainty for anyone foolish enough to venture into its streets after dark, not to mention in the midst of such an ill fated storm. There were thieves and murderers throughout the capital, but none so prevalent and dangerously bloodthirsty as within the southern quarter, common criminals elsewhere would be contented to simply cut a purse of coins or leave their victims with moderate injuries for their troubles whereas those within the southern quarter would sooner slit a throat then look at a man twice. No place was more suited for their dark deeds, with her twisting narrow streets, maze like network of alleys that even the locals shunned, innumerable abandoned buildings and warehouses to carry out nefarious acts and countless canals in which to dispose bodies or evidence not to mention a populous who would rather turn a blind eye or deaf ear to the scrams and pleas of the victims. Then there was the sewers deep beneath the youths boots, a once proud achievement now turned into a hive for the various gangs, their vein like system affording these criminals a sanctuary from the guards, however rare they chose to take action, and the perfect means of travel, transport and meet without being detected.
 
 Even in the daytime crime was rife despite the attempts by the guards to provide safety to the street by increasing their presence and even with their numbers they found themselves ill equipped to tackle the flow of crime, but the nights were criminals alone and although the night watch still made an effort to patrol these streets it was commonly accepted they had abandoned their influence after dark. Viable trade and commerce was controlled completely by the various and constantly warring gangs, the docks were their heatedly contested domains and the guards knew to overlook their activities. Originally all the vast riches pouring to the capital would be unloaded and distributed from the docks and wharfs of the southern quarter, but now even the fishermen refused to tether their boats there and all the legitimate commerce was undertaken in either the western and eastern docks even though this was a challenge due to the cliffs they were constructed into. Crimes often went unreported or undiscovered, floods of bodies found floating in the lakes, alleys and canals were common place on a daily basis and even the authorities had accepted these losses and took little effort in solving the deaths content in simply discarding the corpses in the growing cemeteries filled with unnamed graves.

 So as the three friends made their way through the claustrophobic streets chocked with driven snow and ice they each kept and alert and weary eye to the shadows filling each doorway or alleyway, anywhere a villain could hide in wait was scrutinized as they passed and their gloved frozen hands never strayed from the pummels of their blades. Soon they turned away form the lake front, docks and mammoth warehouses and into the mess of winding dark streets heading south further into the sloping depths of the quarter’s low town. Their cloaks pulled tightly around them as they went in hopes to shield themselves from the biting cold and frigid stinging howling snow, constantly watchful eyes peering beneath their hoods, moving as swiftly as the storm would allow while attempting to keep their progress as silently as possible avoiding puddles and scattered abandoned obstructions. They toiled for what felt like hours slowly making their progress threw the dark ominous streets, the storm buffeting them only increased in its venom with each step they took forward until at last they silently agreed to find sanctuary from its ravages. It did not take them long to locate the nearest tavern they knew called the Bracing Bard just a few steps from the relative safety of the main roads tucked into a narrow side street. As they approached it seemed the driving snow suddenly shifted to whistling sleet, then rampaging freezing rains followed with such force the youths broke into a sprint to cover the final distance to escape the pounding stone sized drops which hammered them while straining to keep covered against the gale forced winds buffeting them.

  The youths ducked into the tavern’s doorway nearly knocking the two burley doormen over as they exploded out of the storm and into the sheltering warmth within, this oversight nearly caused them to be immediately ejected but after a flustered apology and meagre payment the doormen reluctantly allowed them entry. Once inside they were asked to surrender their arms, which was the custom throughout the kingdom, although it seemed a silly formality in this quarter; even the children here carried weapons concealed on their person and the gesture of surrendering a persons sword would no more guarantee them safety should a fight break out as the wanton guards should their indolent patrols pass nearby. One relied on themselves here, the youths knew this all too well and though they happily agreed unbuckling their sword belt relinquishing them to one of the massive bald neanderthal doormen accepting a moment later a wooden token as proof, each took solace that the blades they had hidden would serve them well should a ruckus erupt. The Bracing Bard was a common enough tavern in the southern quarter, simple yet warm and reputed with it relatively low violence.
 
  The tavern itself was set six steps down below street level with small narrow barred windows allowing what little light found its way into the side street to filter in, at night its depth allowed it the ability to keep from the cold ravages outside, this was particularly welcome on this night. The youths moved as swiftly as they could navigating the numerous round candle lit tables filled with boisterous regulars, the tallest of the friends was forced to stoop beneath the low hanging solid wooden rafters and oak beams following his comrades as they made their way to an empty table fairly close to the roaring hearth at the end of the long bar.
 
  They shouldered off their drenched cloaks hanging them on pegs near the fire then took their seats quietly basking in the crackling flames radiating warmth and waited quietly until one of three bar wenches approached to take their orders. Beneath their cloaks the youths resembled any nondescript traveller of the kingdom and no traces of their identities could be garnished from their garb. They each wore heavy thick padded leather high necked coats which served not only to keep them warm in such sever weather but also protected them like modest armour should violence break out, beneath that they each sported padded studded leather vests redoubling their armour as well as well crafted linen shirts. Their sword belts might be of the finest quality but appeared no more luxurious then any other’s, their preferred blades were the same; chosen for their skilled craftsmanship but just as importantly their common appearances. The heavy travel baggy trousers and leather boots they wore were similarly common by looks alone yet they too were of the highest quality, their disguises might be of the expensive nature but to any untrained eye the three friends would appear to be just another group of anonymous youthful travellers and nothing more.
 
 Once seated they each purchase two goblets of hot cider while the largest of the friends asked for a bowl of stew in addition then gave the smiling wench a quick playful slap on the rump after he had dropped the coins into her politely waiting hand. She smiled as warmly as the large fire before them and gave the lad a knowing wink as she left, leaving the large youth to turn back to his friends smiling wryly.

 “Ah Richurilule, I so pleased she is on staff this foul eve, warms me to the bone to see her.” He smiled broadly shacking his strong thick arms out to rid them of the damp and cold.

 “I reckon that’s not the only thing she aspires warmth within you friend.” The smallest of the youths grumbled looking away from the larger rolling his eyes as his gaze returned to the flames.

  In the far corner, lit only by a solitary torch a three part band struck up a quiet but lively tune and the youths settled in to listen in silence enjoying the music and fire’s heat waiting for there drinks. They did not have to wait long as the dutiful wench returned moments later balancing the tray of their drinks skilfully as she swayed seductively to their table which was a clear show for the friends and after doling out to each his duo of steaming wooden goblets she bent and whispered something into the largest of the youths ear then departed with a long glance.

  “What was that in aid of?” the smaller of the youths asked while reaching for the first of his hot drinks without turning from the flames.

  “Oh dear Richurilule was just curious as to my affairs this eve, should I find the time after our revels she requests I return hither before dawn.” He perfect toothy smile widened still as he took the first sip of his steaming cider. “I am certain you two can find your own way back without me, yes?”

  “No doubt, we shall just have to accept another of your long absences but I reckon we will persevere.” The smaller youth grumbled between sips then paused as the song finished. In the silence between he leaned towards the second and still silent youth who seemed content to scrutinize the jubilant crowd and muttered in his direction. “More then likely the wench was just informing Eveinis that his stew would be delayed, but we can but let him posture.”

  The second youth did not reply and the three fell into warming silence once again, that is until they had finished their drinks and purchased a second round. By this time the larger friend Eveinis’s stew had indeed arrived and his was filling his still glowing face with its hearty contents. It was upon the delivery of their next set of drinks that the smaller of the friends spoke up again while rolling a gleaming silver coin between his fingers.

  “Finneous smile on me this eve.” He seemed to say to himself as he tapped the coin thrice against the wooden surface then continued for his friends to hear.

  “My father,” he suddenly thought twice and took a long draw from his goblet then shook his head as if to steel himself. “My father will gut me like a mongrel dog and hang me from my bleeding entrails should he discover I risk the last of my inheritance on games of chance this eve.” He sighed replacing the coin into a purse hidden under his thick belt, he did so without turning to his friends, instead he stared thoughtfully into the hot cider at the bottom of his goblet.

  Finneous was the shape shifting god of fame, luck and fortune while much like the coin which had occupied the youth’s hand a moment ago Finneous was also the god of mischief, irony, disasters and tragedy; thus it was unsurprising this god would be the patron to all gamblers, thieves and rogues. There were no temples dedicated to him, no texts devoted to his teaching, his name scarcely mentions in the ancient tomes no record of his likeness, nor did the god have any devout followers though his name graced every lip more often then any other.

  “Only you dear Laornar could find a way to flit away such a fortune and yet keep it disappearance so well hidden. How much have you lost thus far friend?” Eveinis jested while laughing heartily without malice as he poked a massive finger into the smaller lads back. The tall and powerfully built youth was the youngest of four sons to a particularly powerful and influential merchant and noble, though the apparel he wore one that night one would scarcely know it and easily mistake him as just another nameless commoner. The house of Montaerhuil was known not only throughout the kingdom of Aultenvique but all her neighbouring countries as perhaps the greatest trading company in the civilized world. His father the Earl of Montaerhuil and his eldest sons brought gold, silver, gems and other precious metals from the mines of the north along with fine furs and quality timbers from the wilds. His other sons contended with importing exotic fruits, spices, meats, furs, grains, metals goods and other luxuries from the other corners of the families influence. This left the youngest Eveinis to wallow without a route of his own, his father for reasons none could fathom had seen fit to deny him any part in the families dealings casting him aside to seek his own fortunes. Like his father and siblings Eveinis stood a full head and shoulders taller then most in the region and his muscular build easily set him apart from all his age other then the soldiers and selective few in the capital.
 
  His skin was a darker olive then the rest with a square jaw line, thin flat yet subtle nose, youthful cheeks and smiling lips accented by a thin moustache which the boy took pride in though he was barely old enough to grow. Eveinis took care in his appearance without falling into vanity’s cruel indulgences, carefully kept long wavy golden locks fell over his massive shoulders, which also hid his round ears and expensive golden rings. His grey eyes were joyous yet narrowed from constant exposure to the sun yet always filled with mirth and despite his families reputation for fiery short tempers Eveinis was oddly slow to anger, constantly full of friendly jests and easy going temperament. With so much idle time Eveinis became extremely well travelled and world wise as well as gaining the scandalous reputation in the courts as being not only a rogue but also a ladies man and a breaker of virginal hearts throughout the kingdom.

  Despite his father's refusal to include the youth in the families trading affairs young Eveinis still found ways to make money, heading out with various unrelated caravans whenever possible. What few knew about the boy other then his closest friends sitting beside him was his shrewd knack for trade, his ability to barter, locating the highest quality stock at the lowest prices then returning home with the precious cargo amassed and turning a sizable profit was an attribute he and his friends were very proud of yet overlooked by his family. They knew Eveinis dreamt of one day owning his own trade route though he silently felt ashamed it would never be a part of his families company but though this wounded him daily it also drove his to succeed and unlike Laornar had tucked away a small fortune for that day. Also unlike the most diminutive of the three friends Eveinis was a dab hand when it came to gambling, and whereas Laornar seemed to have the misfortune of fate cruel hand, the rare occasions when Eveinis chose to partake in games of chance, he always left the evening with far more then he began with.

  Laornar may be hopeless at gambling but he was great company, sly with his wit but fiercely loyal to his friends, his talents were far more diverse and well hidden and it was his constant underestimation that gave the youth his advantage. His father was Duke Du’Cartruillair only brother to the noble queen, which made Laornar cousin to the royal family; his family was extravagantly wealthy with numerous holdings throughout the kingdom, a regal estate in the northern quarter along with the family’s castle and lands in Nafinaust just south of Authralliun. Like his larger friend, Laornar was also the youngest sibling in his massive family; with three older brothers and four sisters and like Eveinis was grossly overlooked by them all, but unlike Eveinis, his father not only refused to incorporate his youngest son in the families dealing but it was well known in the court and palace of his father’s open yet undisclosed disdain for his son. This left Laornar perpetually seeking to prove himself and his worth to his friends, though his vast talents were always in need and his worth never questioned. His hair was black like the majority of the royal family well kept and fell past his jaw and Laornar would constantly fidget to ensure it covered his enormous ears which the youth loathed with an infernal passion. Laornar’s nose was large and beak like and a constant source of taunts in his younger days and his high cheekbones along with his nose were covered in dark freckles marring his smooth light olive skin. His eyes were large and cunning, filled with twin dark blue orbs which alone betrayed his intelligence, his jaw less pronounced then his massive friend, face thin and almost feminine in nature and his thin lipped mouth habitually curled in a sarcastic smile hid well his gleaming white large teeth, another attribute he hated. Laornar had gain the cruel nickname of ‘the royal mouse’ since he was a child and the endless teasing and bullying because of his status and stature frequently led to scraps and fights with the other lads in court often ending with the youth returning with bloodied noses and countless bruises. He very quickly learnt to fight and though his size might be conceived as a disadvantage it was his skill and swiftness coupled by the fact he fought like a rabid animal which soon discouraged the larger boys from interfering with his affairs which left Laornar spending the remainder of his infancy alone.

  It was not long after Laornar returned to the palace that the three found each other and soon became inseparable, never far from trouble or mischief, the centre of numerous scandals, brawls or rowdiness, their frequent disappearances and subsequent adventures were legendary and they were widely reputed as the courts chief rogues. Their reputation had spread throughout not only the capital but also the surrounding lands, on occasion quitting the palace and escaping their escorts to venture to nearby cities bent on some shanahagins, but it was only recently that they had turned their eyes one the southern quarter after Laornar discovered the place they were bound for. Even though their pension for danger and mischief might be legendary within the civil circles, they knew better then to venture into these dangerous streets carrying their names, so for the time being their identities would remain hidden, it would be easy enough for one of the warring gangs to capture one or all of them with a vast fortune for a ransom held over their heads. Still this added danger did not deter them from their course, nor did the equally treacherous reputation of the place they were trekking to this eve which dwarfed and that the boys might have gained.

  “Finneous will find a way for me Eveinis, mark my words, I feel his grace with me tonight. You would be wise not to temp him lest you find his calamitous glare which has followed me for so long fall upon you!” Laornar sniped gingerly finally turning back to his friends after taking the last gulp from his goblet, he slammed it down over dramatically pointing a long finger at the laughing merchant’s son disapprovingly then snatched his second cider.

  “Besides, it was not as if my family did not expect me to flit my meagre inheritance away to begin with, why should I further disappoint them by expanding it?” Laornar grumbled quietly into the steaming goblet averting his eyes from his friends.

  “That, my friend is precisely what you said last night Laornar and remind me, how much did the gracious Finneous aid you then?” Eveinis chuckled replacing his now empty goblet then reached for his second smiling broadly pretending not to hear his last comment. They each knew how injured Laornar felt being unable to gain his father’s favour, they knew just how bright, clever and cunning the young noble could be and also knew how his intelligence had gained Laornar and his mates masses of riches in the past, but of late it seemed he felt content to cast these gains away.

  “I think it is high time for a change my friends, we need to get away. This place does not suit our endeavours nor does this blasted in climate weather do our constitutions any favours. Some sunshine is what we need, sunshine, heat and golden skinned wenches; that should lighten dear Laornar’s dark mood. Perhaps even all our fortunes might change, Laornar’s might not, but ours might.”

  For the first time the silent youth spoke up but even at that he seemed more engrossed on surveying a group of men sitting round a table at the far end of the tavern and spoke absentmindedly. “You know my mind Eveinis, when we leave this place again I mean never to return.”

  “And for that we require a small fortune in coins to bloat our purses, which quite clearly you have overlooked and which is precisely why we risk so much this eve. You may have stores of gold squirrelled away, but I have not. Honestly! Phoenix, can you not talk some sense into our stone skulled buffoon of a mate? Reasoning with him is like attempting to teach an ass to dance!” Laornar made a disgusted gesture before hiding his face gulping down some cider. 

  “I am aware of your lack of funds dear Laornar, but we cannot teary forever waiting for your fortunes to change. I fear if we did I would exhaust the stock of fine wenches here and be left flaccid and useless to you both, who then would keep you merry on your adventures?” The huge merchant’s son clapped Laornar happily on the back laughing heartily albeit too loudly for the other youth’s comfort.

  The one called Phoenix said nothing for a moment content to drain his goblet of its contents while maintaining his gaze on the blokes at the far end of the tavern, he made to replace it but something fleeting caught his eye at one of the windows nearest the door for an instant and instead he nursed the goblet as though it were full again. At long last, under the watchful eyes of his friends who were obviously waiting for his comment, Phoenix slide the empty goblet down and fetched the second while motioning for the nearest wench to attend.

  “Your luck must change at some point my cousin, if not now, then when. And should this ill fortune persist, I shall find means to float our endeavours.” Phoenix said lifting the second goblet of cider to his lips but did not drink, nor did he look at his mates who followed his gaze to the window and waited.

  “I swear, if your luck does not sway it should mot be your father’s wrath I should be concerned with but your precious Finneous’s. Surely for such a god to saddle one so faithful with such unfavourable misfortunes he must have reason to do so, and I wager he must true hate you something fierce. And yet you still risk all when there is no need, you are too hasty when you should be prudent, I have on many occasions when our plans resurface stated that I shall secure our required wealth, you need only concern yourself in hashing out the details.” Phoenix finally turned back to the others and for the first time that night, his mouth split into a thoughtful smile.

  Unlike the others, Phoenix was not his given name but it was the one he preferred and had carried for as long as any could remember, one not given to him by his father; but by a man the youth actually admired. Besides, his given name was not only too foul to utter aloud, but far too dangerous in the present company. A son of a merchant, even one so powerful and influential as Eveinis’s would be frowned upon if caught in the presence of such undesirable company but it must be said that it was not uncommon for the wealthy to cavort with commoners. A son of a lord or some other nobility, chief of these the son of a duke, cousin to the royals would cause a flourishing scandal if ever they were discovered lurking in the southern quarter let alone where they intended to fellowship tonight reached the palace’s courts. Yet if it were uncovered that the prince, albeit the youngest was sneaking on a regular basis out of the palace, into the southern quarter and into the very depth of her seedy underbelly to gamble, cavort and more often then not get into ruckuses or fights, the ensuing wrath would make the tempest outside the tavern they sat seem like a pleasant summers shower. Phoenix might be a second born prince, he might be of the purest royal blood, but princely he was not.

  The prince was however widely considered an attractive and charming young man, which made him endlessly sought after the courtiers, unspoken for and virginal noble ladies and servant girls of the court and palace alike. His looks frequently gained him the favour of wenches and whores whenever they ventured away from the palace’s walls but regardless of these attention and affections lavished upon him Phoenix rarely bedded a woman, he preferred the company of his friends and openly stated how he found the fairer sex more trouble then their worth. To say Phoenix was a solitary individual would be a further understatement; he was by nature a quiet lad and kept to himself and away from the other noble youths in court.

  He was a full head shorter then Eveinis but still taller then most in the palace and though his stature might not be as commanding as his muscular friend’s Phoenix was chiselled and vastly stronger then he appeared. Of the three he was best versed in combat having been tutored in the various arts since infancy by the court’s blades master and the king’s towering champion, still Laornar was by far superior with a blade without boasting and though Eveinis was greatly stronger it was Phoenix who lusted for combat. They were all skilled fighters in their own rights, they had to be with their taste for adventures and accompanied dangers; Laornar with his speed, grace, agility and prowess with his blades, Eveinis with his brute strength, resilience and unrefined simplicity but it was Phoenix who surpassed them both with his ferocity, aggression, passion and untapped rage in battle lusting insatiable for a fight where ever it was to be found. It was that thirst and fury filled rampaging manner in which he fought, like a berserker of old which afforded the prince his namesake and dark reputation within the palace. Few associated with him other then the servant staff, the nobles avoided him, the palace guards silently feared him, the royal guard quietly revered him and the high council constantly pleaded with his family to control him but they too were at a loss at what to do with him. All of which suited Phoenix just fine and other then his comrades, the prince had very little time for any of them or his duties for that matter.

  Phoenix was never one overly concerned about his appearances; his hair was jet black, long to his shoulders and wildly dishevelled. His skin was well tanned, smooth with a chorus of faint freckles dotting his visage, his cheek bones were high and pronounced, jaw elegant yet masculine, nose straight despite being broken on countless occasions and his cleft chin hidden under a scruffy patch of a goatee. Phoenix’s eyes garnered the most attention and adoration from the fairer sex being the clearest of light blues almost grey spheres under a regal brow line with angled eyebrows slightly raised in seeming perpetual curiosity. A smile only graced his full lips when he jested with his friends, never cruelly, apart from that the only time he smiled was when he fought or was about to fight, his friends had learned that early on and could spot the instantaneous change in their friend and knew violence was about to erupt when he smiled, it was something akin to madness which overtook him. Apart from infrequent emotions the prince preferred to remain silent, face locked in emotionless rest, ever observant and ever vigilant.

  The wench returned with their final orders of cider and after Eveinis handed her the empty bowl with his thanks she departed leaving Phoenix looking casually at the table now empty of the men he had been previously observing. He glanced back to his comrades and flashed a brief smile. “Now if we are finished such a weighty discussion best left for quieter places, it would be lovely to reach our destination before the fourth bells toll and I find myself too old to enjoy the night.” His wry smile returned as he looked from friend to friend. “And by the looks of it if we terry here much longer Laornar’s purse may just burn a gapping hole in his side, yes?”
With that Phoenix raised his goblet offering a toast. “To the night!”

  “To the night!” his friends repeated laughing and began drinking in earnest enjoying the new jubilant song that had kicked up from the band.

  “To the fight.” The prince added into his goblet as he took his first sip, then downed the hot cider in one flourish of gulps, slamming the empty goblet down. He had spoken the last to himself but as he joined his friends in celebrating the joyous song he could not help but note his cousin regarding him sidelong with an intent concerned glare.

              *


jaraden's wiki page part 2