[Jerimiah]

Jerimiah Trisk's library was a dark, foreboding collection of arcane texts and treatises. Enough knowledge was packed onto the wall-length shelves to educate an entire legion of mages of just about every discipline. The room itself was large and open; the only furnishings were a few overstuffed chairs and a small desk. Jerimiah sat at this desk, busily studying one of the old tomes. The man was old and thin, but he displayed no sign of the frailty that was typical for his age. His eyes were sharp, his face stern, and his hands were steady as he turned the dusty pages.

There was a knock at the front door, downstairs.

"Come In!" he shouted. A wave of his hand released the magical mechanism that sealed the front door. A second later, the heavy oak door opened, and heavy footsteps could be heard coming up the stairs.

"Trisk?" a deep voice asked timidly from just down the hall.

"In here."

A tall, well-muscled man entered the room. His hair and eyes were dark, and his armor bore the ensignia of the TownGuard of Bephal. A large sword was strapped to his back, and his belt held a collection of sharp, lethal daggers.

"What is it, Rade?" said Jerimiah.

"Everything went as planned. We attacked, and allowed ourselves to be driven off, just as you instructed."

"Excellent." Jerimiah never looked up from his book; he spoke his words into the dusty pages.

"They had magic. Weren't expecting it."

"Does that bother you? You think his magic is more powerful than mine?"

"You weren't there."

"Neither was he. What's your point?"

"My point is we're risking a lot for you."

"Not for me. For money. I'm not foolish enough to believe you give a damn about me or what I want. You're in this for the money. Just like any other mercenary."

"My men and I are NOT mercenaries. I am Captain of the Guard..."

"Good. Does that mean I can stop paying you, then?"

Rade stood silently, growling to himself. Fear and respect kept him from saying what he thought.

"You're money's in the usual place," Jerimiah said after a pause. "Is that all?"

"No."

Jerimiah looked up and glared at Rade.

Rade noted the position of the old man's hands. Fingers twisted into odd positions, pointed in Rade's direction. A half-cast spell. One twitch could turn Rade into a wet stain in the library carpet. He'd better tread lightly.

"What's all this about, Trisk? What are we doing?"

"What's all WHAT about?"

"Attacking a caravan with no intention of taking anything. That business in the cemetery-"

"For which you have already been paid!"

"Yes, but what does this have to do with revenge?"

"Revenge? This was never about vengeance."

"What, then?

"This is about getting back what was taken from me."

"Revenge, I can understand, but what's this you're talking about? The girl is dead. What are you-"

"Don't ask 'what,' or 'why.' Just do as you're told and accept your more than generous payment. I'd be foolish to share my plans with you, but if you're so worried about revenge, then rest assured that the monster who killed my daughter will pay a most horrible price for his crime."

"Interesting choice of words."

"Monster? He is certainly less than a man."

"No. Crime. We're all criminals, aren't we. You. Me. Especially you."

"He is a murderer. He took my flower, Julia, away from me."

"Your daughter was a-"

"Finish that statement and it will be your last!"

"I- I'm sorry."

"Accepted. This time. Do not speak ill of her again. Not in my presence. Not anywhere." Jerimiah thought for a second. "Did you send a man to Montfort?"

"Of course."

"Who?"

"Author."

"The thorn in my side. He'll serve my purpose nicely. Perfectly, in fact."

"We've kept him reigned in as much as we could without raising suspicion. When I asked him to carry the investigation to Montfort, he leapt at the chance. He'll do what we need him to do. He won't be able to help himself."

"And he is expendable. If by some chance he does survive this business..."

"I'll take care of him, myself. Either way, he won't be a bother to you anymore."

"Excellent. Has he reported in yet?"

"He's only just arrived. There would be nothing to report."

"Oh, there will be. I have sent my own emissaries to Montfort. Shortly, there will be very much for our agent to report. Very much indeed."