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It was just as he remembered it. The sands were fine, a light breeze sending the grains dancing every few hundred feet. Dancer's ship had landed at a small harbor town, currently under it's own rule. He checked his pack for the fifth time, jostling it a bit to check for the cache of scrolls. He was asking for trouble, walking in the territory of the Pretenders without a unit. He had a small sword, inked with a few infernal runes, his pack, now overfilled with summoning scrolls, and his wits. His milky eyes raked across the quay, searching for any signs of trouble. The docks were busy, but not packed. He couldn't see any blue flags, so he must have landed unnoticed from the Pretenders. He slipped through the town, his head down, and his pack clutched close to his side. He had to stay unnoticed, for the consequences of discovery would be steep. Obia'Syela was the one realm he couldn't stand. Those dirty Pretenders honestly thought they could control deamons! He smiled wolfishly to himself, dodging a fruit cart on his way out of town. He'd wipe them from this planet, one way or another. They sat on his land, preaching about magic and some false deity. His lip curled a bit as he thought of the Pretenders. He'd made it out of town, heading down one of the two roads out of town. It must have rained recently; dirt caked his boots almost immediately. He walked with purpose, staring at the ground. He couldn't believe such fools flourished, preaching such foolishness. He'd lead an army down here one day, and clear these stains from this land.He was deep in thought, internally raging, when he ran smack dab into someone. He looked, up, startled out of his internal discord. Several men, clothed in violet, barred his way.
Sunlight poured in through the rocking carriage's open window, each imperfection of the primitive road could be felt. Straining her eyes, Eva carefully tried to decipher the sloppily written letter. Splashes of water could be heard as the wheels rolled through the occasional hole, creating a break in the cacophony of horse hooves and idle chatter by the guards. Softly gliding her fingers through soft crimson hair, Eva cleared her vision of the external distraction. Mouthing the words as the letters became more legible, her concentration on the report increased. Suddenly everything came to a halt, sending the Grandmistress forward, breaking her focus, and raising her intrigue.Casting her emerald eyes out the window, the countryside became blocked by the side of a massive Paladin covered in violet plate. "Why have we stopped?" she inquired."A traveler!" a raspy voice replied.With raised brow, Eva gleamed up ahead. A host of guards in mail and violet cloth could be seen but not the supposed traveler. Long ago this area had been fully converted, she thought, surely this intruder must be one of the flock. In haste she put on her thin white veil, leaving nothing but the eyes and hair fully visible. With a quick exhale she composed herself and proceeded to slowly exit the carriage.Eva's ceremonial white robe dropped out onto the muddy road as she started her way towards the commotion. Arguments could be heard but the words were elusive. All went silent as the guards noticed the Grandmistress approaching them, they parted slightly but remained between the unknown man and the royal woman. Eva stopped in her tracks, a short distance in front of the traveler. Patiently she waited for the usual greeting from one of a lesser station.
A flash of rage flicked across his face. He reflexively reached for his sword, stopping short before he drew. He'd run into a large plated warrior, steel stained violet. The guard took a step back, drawing his weapon in one motion. "Halt, traveler! Take your hands off your weapon!" Dancer narrowed his eyes, but relented. Several more of the violet guards stood around him, hands resting on a cacophony of weaponry. "I am sorry, warrior of purple. I can't see very well anymore, and I'm afraid you startled me." The first guard didn't sheath his weapon, but he did let it fall to his side. "What do you think you are doing, peasant?" Dancer bristled, but said nothing. "Watch where you are walking! Someone could have been hurt!" Dancer still said nothing, carefully controlling his temper. He mustn't get caught. While the man preceded to give Dancer a tongue lashing about proper travelling etiquette, Dan took stock of his surroundings. He'd made it quite a ways into the forest, the sounds of the city long gone. Several men, covered head to foot in violet livery stood around, most looking tired and bored. An ornate carriage sat in the center of the purple horde, two beautiful black Friesians lashed to the front. A flash of blue, and his heart sank. On the side of the carriage, he could see the heraldry of the Pretenders painted in bold strokes. He'd barely made it on land, and his inattention may have cost him his mission.At least he had a disguise on, abit a poor one. He had simply thrown on a ragged coat, over his normal loose white shirt and black slacks. While the dirt from the trip would help sell the ruse, he still looked, at the very least, well off. His brown stained pack would help, he figured, at least until someone looked closer, or worse yet, inside of it. Hopefully they wouldn't take away his weapon either. He'd unwisely strapped his ceremonial sword on his hip, rather then his normal one, thinking only of the long walk ahead of him. The blade itself was craved up and down with infernal runes. Thankfully, he'd never been important enough to receive one with a fancier hilt, so unless they unsheathed it, it looked like a normal sword. The guard stopped chattering, falling silent abruptly. Dan looked to the carriage, side door now standing open. The men silently parted, and women in a long white shift was revealed, gracefully walking towards him. A noble then, he thought. She was clearly very young, so he doubted she was anyone of importance. The strange veil was out of place, but he figured it was some fashion statement for the Pretenders. Anger flashed across his face a the thought of the Liars, but he suppressed it quickly. She stopped a short distance away from him. Dancer pondered for a moment. She was smart enough to stand out of his sword range, but not smart enough to have his weapon confiscated. Inexperienced then, but she did have some combat training, whether she realized what she'd done or not.The cultist begrudgingly tilted his head, wolfish grin crossing his face. "Lady, I am sorry to disturb your travel. I accidentally walked into one of your men. I'm afraid my eyesight has been failing for many a year now."
All was quiet after the greeting, no signs of life from the woods could be heard from the muddied road. Eva paid close attention to the traveler, keeping her emotions masked behind the ceremonial veil. His eyes, his smile. They were unsettling, sending a small shiver up Eva's spine.An experienced guard next to Eva turned to face her, "Your Eminence," his deep voice broke the silence, "it is unsafe, you should return to your carriage and let us handle this."Eva looked to her right, up into the bare face of the guard, slight wrinkles and grayed hair visible to all. Her hands were intertwined in front of her, hidden inside the arms of the her robe. Gracefully she reached up to place her hand upon his cheek, allowing the long scar across her palm to be seen. "Erick macaan," she reassured, "ha walwelin, Hooyo Quduuska ah ayaa nala socota."Eva returned to her normal stance allowing Erick to turn back towards the traveler as well. Changing from the religious language and back to the common tongue, Eva addressed the traveler with her heavy Rinesian accent. "What is your name, traveler," she asked, "you are obviously not a commoner, perhaps I have heard of your family."Eva knew that this was unlikely, the traveler definitely wasn't a peasant but he did look too poor to be a knight. "Most likely some minor noble of little renown," Eva thought. "the clothes are too fine but not the best. His accent is peculiar, not quite southern, yet definitely southern. He is an enigma, a curiosity..." She knew that she should leave, but like a moth to a flame, there was no turning away.
