An Old Friend Returns With Wolves

[Jones]

It was a sight to behold. How long had he been away? Too long. He was here now. For awhile.

Jared stood atop a rise north of the Lumination, his gray eyes sliding past the beautiful orchard and the trees that surrounded him, gazing at the magnificent structure which was the closest thing to a home he could remember having. Long black tendrils of hair fell around a face too scarred and haggard-looking for someone of his age. Thirty some years, and he looked to be at least ten more, if still handsome enough to draw the eye of a few women, young and old. A beard grew thickly, curly stubble, hiding his chin and upper lip. Perhaps Jared would look a little more gizzled than the regulars of the Lumination remembered, but those same silver pools would remind them of who he was. Remind them of who he was when he first started working there, or of who killed Aeron Luminatti?

Black leather pants, black shirt, silver chain mail armor over his chest, and then black fur over that kept him warm enough, leaving his neck and head bare. Black seemed to be a new color of his, unusual to the cloaks and coats he'd worn as the tavern's manager. Even his heavy leather boots were black. His attire was as black as night, and so were the attires of the men arrayed behind him. Nine others, making a circle, with drawn bows, swords, and clubs, looking over their shoulders for signs of danger. Jared wasn't worried about an ambush here. They were far enough beyond the Barren River that Lord Barren's soldiers would've given up the chase...

"Lord Sieler! We can't hold out! Barren's men know we're here! They'll be down our throats any second!"

He turned his face of fury to Vadir, his teeth gritted together, holding his bloodied sword ready for the next to come upon them. "Shut up! And get back in the house! We're not leaving until this job is finished!!"

Did he have to do everything himself? He left the snow and cold behind, charging into the manor's main house, listening to the clashing of swords up the stairway to his left, and more off to his right, down the corridor which supposedly led to Barren's treasure room. Four of his men were dead at his feet, with eight soldier-looking men lain alongside them. Blood covered the floor, hiding that beautiful white marble that Barren had supposedly sold one of his own daughters for. He continued forward, stepping lightly and carefully over the bodies, making his way toward the stairs. Bounding up them two at a time, he came up face to face with the battle that was taking place.

The red wolf head on the back of capes draping from chain mail armor was less thick than that of the plate-armored soldiers. Without hesitating, he dove into the chaos, adding his own wolf head cape to the ranks. His sword blade slid off against armor, but only twice at the most against every man he turned to. Jared Sieler was quick to learn the vulnerabilities of the armor, and was soon having his blade slide between shoulder pieces and against the bare sides of legs, feeling his blade bit flesh rather than deflect off armor. With his skill and precision added to the cause, it wasn't long after that there were only wolf head caped men left standing. Each was wounded, but none mortally. Four more were down on the floor, unmoving.

"Sir." The voice came from the man at his right, and Jared squinted momentarily in thought to remember the man's name.

"What is it Gregor?"

"We saw Lord Barren himself being carried out of here. We've lost the target. What we just got through was the rear-guard he left behind. And there's not enough of us left over to take on the whole manor-full of the bastards." Jared looked about to shrug his shoulders and start away again before Gregor's hand grasped his shoulder hard, whirling him so they were looking into each others eyes. There, he saw Gregor the Veteran of a thousand wars. He saw confidence. He saw strength. He saw fear.

"We need to leave."

...Cold. Hungry. The chase had gone for days. Jared knew their mercenary services were finished for awhile, at least until they could find another town to occupy, so why not a stop at home? With a defeated sigh, Jared raised his hand and waved it forward before starting down the hill at a jog. The red wolf head waved in the cold wind, and the snow swirled 'till it covered the brows and beards of every man. Snow crunched beneath their feet. Filled their open mouths as they breathed. Snow was everywhere! He couldn't wait to get inside and find that familiar warmth of the fire. Maybe he'd get lucky, and find a woman or two for when night came.

The men moved after him, keeping five feet between each, keeping the circle intact. They followed without question. It'd taken a long time for Jared to form this little wolf band of his, but for some reason, it had just seemed easy to find a commanding voice and get people to follow him. Drinking water sated him, and going without brandy seemed to keep his head clear. Everything just seemed right and perfect in a battle. He felt like he belonged. It felt like a thing he didn't not mind dancing to.

There should've been twenty men striding into the Lumination, but instead there was only the ten. Jared put the other ten who had fallen in Barren's manor out of his mind. He would forget the blood and death here until the next battle. Now was the time to relax. With a charming smile on his pale red lips, he sweeped into that common room, eyes bright with expectation. His men filtered out away from him, going to various places; table and bar. He stood completely still, as though to display himself, poised, giving a greeting nod to a shocked Adonis standing behind the counter. Then he was searching for the sisters.. Perhaps another battle would not be so far off, if Aeron was here.

[Jones]

Ferax Silune. Every letter of the name should radiate nobility. It represented his riches, ambition, and greatness. His family was an old family. Older than life itself, some of its members thought. Jerax was one of those. An aspiring young man in his mid-twenties, ready to stamp his name into the history books. He was sure he would find his greatness before even a hint of gray touched his fiery red hair. And everyone would know his name. Everyone.

Patrons filled every table to capacity inside the Lumination. It was a busy night. "As though a night would pass when it wasn't busy," he muttered irritably. He wore a vest of pale red silk with a white tunic underneath. Breeches of the finest and most expensive tan skins covered his legs. A fur coat, made from a bear (as the bear head that was worked into the hood hinted) had been hung over the back of the stool he perched upon. His rich attire drew many glances; from those 'merely curious of where he was from, and those who considered him fair game for robbing. But even if it had not been for that silver bladed and gold hilted dagger tucked in his belt, the two men that stood like statues on either side of him, parting away the crowd from sitting near him, were enough to tell any who wondered: he was not to be trifled with.

"Another beer, Adonis." The barkeep gave an affirmative nod before shuffling off for the pitcher and a new glass. Ferax had been coming around often enough to be on a first name basis. Adonis hadn't told the sisters he worked for about the man, yet, but Ferax was sure he would eventually manipulate him to. For the first couple weeks here, he was surprised he wasn't approached. With guards and the rich clothing he wore, he was sure the Luminatti would've taken him for some noble. That should've at least piqued their curiousity enough for one of them to seek him out. However, sitting here at the bar day after day, on display like a king on a conquered throne, didn't seem to be enough. It wouldn't be, if Lillith Luminatti truly was as busy as the people he solicited information from about her, said. They would learn though, eventually. He would be that king.

That didn't explain the absence of the other sisters, but not to worry. He had all the time in the world. Achieving greatness at his young age wasn't so important as to risk his plans being unraveled because of impatience on his part. Sitting here idly, studying the tavern and its regulars, getting to know who came in from week to week, provided him a true and inner view of how the Lumination ran; weaknesses and strengths. Such viewings would only aid him in achieving his goals.

Blue eyes flecked with yellow sweeped away from their general gazing of the common room to the door as ten men dressed in black entered. At the head of them was a black haired fellow with gray eyes that looked upon the place as though he'd been here before, and was taking note of its changes. Small nods were being given to the few patrons that turned and recognized him. Who is he? Ferax wondered, sitting forward a little, taking a glance at the others with him who had come up to the bar. They were a rowdy bunch that bumped and shoved their way through the patrons, laughing with mirth. Red wolf heads were embroidered into the backs of their capes. Each of them wore odd pieces of armor. Only their apparent leader, who still stood before the door, wore a complete set of chainmail minus the head piece.

Ferax's smooth skinned face broke into a grin. He loved surprises. This was the first armed band he had noticed in these parts. Perhaps more waited outside somewhere in a separate camp. No doubt, his own scouts would be working their way to the construction site to report their own findings. And if this stranger's band had gone unnoticed, there was going to be hell to pay, and new scouts to hire.

"Nevermind about the beer Adonis. I'm afraid I must take my leave. Farewell. I'll return for it on the 'morrow." Without another word, Ferax was up on his feet, slipping on his bear skin coat, and making his way toward the door. He slightly shouldered that black-garbed fellow who stood in the way, and exited through the door. His two guards followed after.