Winter 4994, 34 Ginmoth 

"Sir Tristen," the king of Daanlin himself spoke from the door as he entered the private audience chamber where the Paladin of Saint Giorgos awaited this royal meeting. 

The Colonel bowed low to his king, "Sire," 

"Cousin..." The king responded, grinning at the knight as he straightened. King Conar may have started the meeting formally, but using their family ties made it clear that this discussion wasn't meant to be entirely formal. 

Tristen sighed but returned the smile, turning to look out the window and marveling at the shining sun and sparkling sea in the distance. It was warm in the tower and the golden light bathing the streets of the capital far below gave the illusion that it should be warm outside as well, though he knew it was actually frigid. The slight rustle of a steady wind through barren trees the only sign of the skin-piercing winter chill. Appropriate, Tristen thought, things are never as nice as they seem from afar... 

"I'm pleased you chose to take this mission, Sir Tristen. Your extensive experience in the field should prove particularly beneficial." King Conar mused. 

Tristen hummed, "It is necessary work and appropriate that I do it. Perhaps I can atone..." 

King Conar sighed, "Your father should have pursued the issue further. However, he was acting under my father's orders." The king shot a sideways glance at his Paladin cousin, then at his personal guard by the door. They knew of the mission, of course, and as fellow Paladins of Saint Giorgos, were just as devoted to the task of ending these Warlocks and their goals. But that didn't mean the king wanted them involved in this conversation, or to know all the details.

He clasped his hands behind his back and gestured with his fingers. Together, Conor and Tristen watched his guards' reflections in the glass as they bowed, exiting to stand outside the door. Once they were gone, the King continued, "Our fathers had no way of knowing for sure what these Warlocks had planned or that they had spread this far." 

Tristen nodded, "But we do." 

"We do. And we will stop them. The only thing worse than the Warlocks selling their souls and their minds to endanger all those around them is the possibility, though slim, that they might actually succeed." 

Tristen reached for his cudgel, clenching it on his belt. The weapon of their god was his symbol, and the best tool for crushing dragon scale. Ending the dragons, who held no regard for those caught in their crossfire, was what allowed the humans to live and prosper over the millennia since their fall. If they were to return, it would see the resumption of war between not only their kind but between Hengist and Horsa as well. Taking them back to an era of death and destruction, the likes of which were only ever taught about in the ancient histories. 

The King nodded at the Paladin's simple gesture, "Your mission is multi-layered, Sir Tristen. First and foremost is the extinction of these Warlocks. Second is the apprehension of their research and experiments."

"The woman..." Tristen muttered. 

"Yes," the king confirmed, "She is to be taken in. However, we want to limit collateral damage as much as possible, which is why that mission is secondary until we know more." 

"And my team?" the Paladin asked.

"They will be filtering in as the council members make their decisions over the next few weeks. We will interview them as they arrive, and of course, you are expected in those interviews." 

Tristen turned away from the window and bowed once more to his King, "Yes, Sire." 

*** 

Master Archmage Corwin's door slammed open, and the young man looked up to see one of his Archmages storm in without preamble. The Mage was older than his thick brown hair told, with boney hands clenched around a well-used notebook. "Why haven't you called me yet?!" Ranito demanded the leader of his Guild. 

"Why would I?" Corwin asked sweetly. He'd been waiting for the man to break first. Let the favor be owed to him and not the other way around. 

"I've been studying the Firewyrm since she was first discovered!" Ranito declared, waving his book in the air, "Even now, she provides me with invaluable samples. No one else is better suited to this job."

Corwin let his eyebrows rise in feigned disbelief, "You would leave the lab to hunt Warlocks?" 

"To know what they know." Ranito started but stopped as the Prince's eyes narrowed. He waved his hand again, "Not like that. They sell themselves for power and their minds for knowledge unearned and unusable once they're broken. I am the only one who can debunk them thoroughly and with a clear mind." 

"The only one?" 

"I am foremost in the field of dragon studies. The more we know about their efforts, the more we will be able to predict their next moves and better hunt them down." Ranito argued. 

Corwin sighed. It was accurate and why the Prince had only considered one other for the job. Though that man, a Battlemage also of Clearhelm, had refused the order on the grounds of the team's secondary goal. Leaving the Master Archmage with his second pick, Ranito, an Archmage better suited to the lab and loyal first and foremost to his research. Therefore easily bought and manipulated.

"Perhaps... If you really want to. I might consider it..." 

Ranito huffed, "I see what you're doing, and I don't care. Don't bother with your political games with me, Prince. I will report all my findings to the council. And my conclusions... to you."

Corwin stood, and Ranito rolled his eyes, "Very well, Archmage Ranito. You'll still need to be interviewed by the rest of the council and team leader." 

"A distant relation, no doubt," the Mage grumbled but then nodded, "Very well. Until then, I will be in my lab." He turned to go but stopped at the door, "By the way, I already know you are wanting to bring the wyrms here..." He turned again, his face a mask of seriousness, "I don't recommend we take them by force. The written reports of the girl's power do not do it justice." 

"All the more reason to keep them out of the public," The Master Archmage argued, "Sorcerers are dangerous enough as it is." If it were up to him, Corwin would seal every one of them. Their power, and their loins, to prevent them from propagating. "Fear not Archmage, taking in the wyrms is secondary to ending the Warlock threat."

Ranito nodded and left the office. Yes, that task was secondary. Until after the first was completed.

*** 

All Churches of Soleil were built to catch as much sun as possible throughout as much of the day as possible. The only places better for enjoying the warm love of the sun god were the open fields where his children, the common people of the land, worked to feed their families and neighbors by cultivating the fruits of his blessings. 

Alena wandered between the fields, fallow in the winter months, resting as they waited for the sun's return in spring. A small group of city children ran beside her, picking up snow to throw at one another. Safe, so long as they stayed away from the woods and wilds, and remained close to the favored Cleric of Soliel. 

She laughed at their antics and even dipped to grab her own ball of snow, balling it up and taking aim at the oldest of the children. He caught sight of her and hurried to raise his own projectile. "Vicar Alena!" A voice called from the town gate, and Alena looked over, her snowball flying wide and the young boy's taking her in the face. 

"Mistress Alena, Mistress Alena!" the children all crowded around her in concern, the boy looking horrified at himself. The Cleric wiped her face and laughed, setting their worries at ease, and sent them off to continue their play as the Abbot herself came with a pair of priests in tow.

"Abbot Sara," Alena bowed to her superior, her long pale blond hair falling forward and her hand on her mace to hold it steady at her waist.

The woman smiled fondly down at her young Vicar, "I have news for you, Alena. A mission..." Alena looked up sharply. Finally. Now that she was finally of age, they would let her put all of her training and devotion to work. Serving the people, not just protecting and healing in this one city. "You are quite young for the role... but Soliel seems to approve..." 

Alena resisted the urge to ask the woman to get on with it, and her patience was rewarded when one of the priests held out a letter for her. She took it but was distracted by the seal on the wax, "From the kingdom?" she asked the Abbot. The woman nodded and gestured for Alena to open the orders. 

She did so, reading through them quickly, her face falling and her eyes darting to the children still playing in the snow. So innocent, and in so much danger... 

The Abbot sighed, "The details of the mission are not to be shared with anyone, Vicar, though they are not necessarily secret either. Should you choose to accept it, you are to report to the capital right away."

A team... She was to join a kingdom team. Hunting Warlocks. Those practitioners of dark magic that drove them mad. Wounds of the mind Soleil, or even Lune, couldn't heal. "Yes, Abbot. Right away." Alena could think of no nobler calling.

*** 

She knew the hunter was there, though he was skillfully concealed in the shadows of the fallen leaves piled around the bases of their trees. The crow watched from on high as he took aim at the deer, stretching its neck out to nibble on the low-hanging branches. The arrow took flight, and she dove, snatching the bolt from the air with her talons and sending the deer to scamper off to join its herd in the deeper wood. 

Far from being angry, the hunter jumped to his feet and called, "I knew it! We've been looking all over for you, Druid!" A second crow flew down from the branches to flap in his face, avoiding his hands and circling his head to fly towards the woman now standing with arrow in hand.

"I hope you didn't assume I was the deer," she grinned at the Ranger, who blushed, "Please tell me you're here to let me know I'm free to go?" She'd been called back to the Grove for a ritual and mission that had lasted months and ended weeks ago. And yet, the Archdruid still wouldn't let any of them leave. Just because he was content to waste away in this, admittedly wonderful, forest province, didn't mean she didn't want to see the world and ALL nature had to offer.

The Ranger picked his way over to her, his soft leather boots hardly scuffing the leaves. "Yes and no. You're to leave the wood, but only because you have a job." He bowed, removing a letter from his jacket with a flourish and holding it out to her, "Druid Ebonwing, you have a request from the Grand Druid Bloodoak himself..."

Ebonwing snatched the letter from his hand and tore it open, "From old man Bloodoak himself..." So it was a mission for the kingdom, meaning she might finally be able to travel the realm again. Maybe even find Yua... If the Ranger could ever forgive her for leaving in the first place.

Ebonwing's eyes narrowed further and further as she read, however. Maybe not... Something like this might be too big for her lover. Even if Yua wanted to help, the kingdom might not let her.

"A team of all the major organizations..." Ebonwing hummed. To hunt Warlocks, whose magic twisted the nature of the elements and land itself in unnatural ways. It would be the duty of all Druids to stop such abominations from practicing their spells. The light of Cathbad pulsed in her chest. No, there was no way she could refuse. 

Neg, her crow friend, and companion to her lover, hopped over the leaves and flew up to her shoulder to nuzzle her cheek. She spoke in a whisper to herself, "Just a little longer... I'm sorry." then to the Ranger, "I'll leave right away." 

***

This was the only way to spend the winter. As far south as one could get. Oswall rolled a new smoke even while he held the first between pursed lips. The night was warm in the jungle, and the company warmer. Just like he liked it. 

"You comin' in love?" A woman leaned out her window to speak to him, resting against her wall, "We're just itching for your company..." Behind her, a multitude of voices giggled. Oswall grinned. This was the life. The best part at the end of a mission. Except...

"Specialist Oswall..." 

Oswall sighed, using his old smoke to light the new and flicking the butt down the road to shower sparks on the black boots of the Paladin he'd hoped was just passing by. "I'm on leave, Sir," Oswall mumbled around his smoke, taking in a deep breath and letting it out in rings. 

The Paladin glared at him, then at the whore behind him, until she retreated inside and closed the window. Once she was gone, the knight of Horsa stepped closer and held out a letter to his enlisted Specialist, "It's been revoked. You have orders... From the kingdom." 

"Oh? I hope it comes with a pay raise." the Rogue quipped, taking the letter and opening it. He was accustomed to working in the dark and only needed the glow from his smoke's cherry to get the gist of the orders. He huffed, folding it again and slipping it into his shirt, two sizes too big, "Send a shadow to hunt a shadow..." 

"You are to report as soon as possible." The Paladin stated simply.

Oswall started rolling another smoke, "A job like this... It's going to require a little work... outside the official channels..."

"That is between you and your team leader, soldier." 

The Rogue sighed, once again using his current smoke to light his next. They wanted him to work not only with a Paladin of Saint Giorgos but a representative of Soliel and Hengist? "Might as well tie bells to my shoes," Oswall grumbled. 

At that, the Paladin actually grinned, "As if that would hinder you,"

"Point," Oswall gave a lazy salute to the Paladin with his smoke which the man returned sharp and formal. 

The position did offer a two rank promotion and thus a permanent pay rise, so Oswall sighed again, pushing off the wall and disappearing down the dark alley beside the brothel. His footsteps as soft as a cat on the hunt, and his body blending with the shadows. 

*** 

The General of the Army of Hengist sat at his desk, files laid out neatly in front of him. One, in particular, was of moderate size, smaller compared to the most senior soldiers represented in other piles, but significantly larger than those even a decade older.

A knock sounded at his door, and he called, "Come in," without looking up. The Paladin who entered saluted, and the General stood slowly to return it, then pushed the moderate file forward, "Sir Zihler, thank you for coming." 

"Of course, Sir," Zihler responded, approaching the desk and eyeing the files. 

"You know of the team being formed by the kingdom?" The General asked, getting right to the point.

Zihler nodded but looked understandably puzzled, "I thought we were forbidden from assigning a Paladin." 

The General nodded in confirmation but then flipped the file open. Zihler looked down, and his breath caught. "You remember this man?" The General asked. 

"Very well, Sir. We were all stunned..." 

"It says here he was the top of his class and that the command felt that our Lord Hengist was... grieved, when he chose not to take him as a Paladin." 

Zihler shook his head, "Shon was the most devout of all of us, Sir. He already seemed to be a Paladin. And he wasn't just the top of his class, he was the top of ours as well, a year ahead of him." he explained. "In truth, Sir, I thought of Shon as a rival. Though I found out later, during my vigil, that it was all one-sided. He deserved his skill, worked tirelessly for it. Not even Lily could distract him." 

"Lily?"

Zihler blushed but lifted his chin proudly, "A girl, the one kept by the Warlocks. We knew her. It was clear that she favored him, and I confess to being jealous..." 

The General grinned, "You were young men, teenagers..."

Zihler returned the grin with a bashful smile, "Just so, Sir. Shon was unphased, or at least not distracted. Though we all knew he cared about her."

The General nodded, "Yes, well, it seems he's still loyal. Even after the trauma of the vigil, he enlisted and has served faithfully without ceasing." 

"You are considering him for the team?" Zihler asked bluntly.

"What do you think?" 

Zihler nodded, "I think there's no one better suited to such an important task." He lifted his fist to his chest and closed his eyes, feeling the glow of Hengist in his soul, "Perhaps this is why..."

"Perhaps." The General closed the file, "I feel he still holds Hengist's approval even if he couldn't be a Paladin." The General sat and opened his desk, retrieving a set of orders, "Please deliver these to the Mages Guild to be sent to Zanit in Halakon. Your friend is on leave, but it will need to be revoked for this."

Zihler saluted, taking the orders, then grinning, "I doubt he will mind General, not the Shon I knew." 

The General nodded without comment, dismissing the young Paladin. The loyal soldier who had never requested leave before this might not mind being called to duty, but that wasn't the only letter headed his way. The door closed, and the General leaned back in his chair, tilting his head just enough to look at the altar to Hengist in its niche, "Forgive me, Hengist..." Though it wasn't Hengist who would need to forgive him. He could only pray that this Staff Sergeant Shon's loyalty was strong enough to see the reason behind the Temple's decision.