[Author]

It was early morning; the sun had not yet burned away the mists. Author stepped through the smashed doorway and into the former home of Benjamin and Melanie Cerin. He was greeted by the Montfort authorities, who stopped him immediately with their swords drawn. Author produced his papers and identification, and, realizing that these guards probably could not read, demanded to be brought to the head investigator.

"Who are you?" said the tall, dark-haired man who finally met with him.

"Author Hendragon of Bephal. And you are?"

"Pendragon?"

"Hendragon." Author corrected the man. He was used to his name being mistaken for that of the legendary figure. "Author Hendragon. You are...?"

"Parode." The head investigator gave Author's papers a thorough going-over, then frowning, looked them again. "Bephal, eh?"

"I've been sent to Montfort after a dangerous criminal. One who might be connected with what went on here."

"Just what DID go on here?" Parode stepped in close, cutting off what little view Author had of the house's interior.

"You tell me."

"You obviously know something or you wouldn't be here. Credentials can be forged, you know."

Author sighed.

"Look, can we cut the posturing and get to our jobs? I know I'm on your turf and that I'm not welcome. I also know that someone was killed in this house in a manner that may connect him with... the man I've been sent after. Either we can work together or we can just get in each other's way."

It was Parode's turn to sigh. He'd started to ask Author how he knew about the murder, but Parode figured that it must be all over the streets by now. Word travels fast in Montfort.

"Alright." Parode stepped aside. "Come in. Don't touch anything."

Author walked into the ruined dwelling. The furniture, like the door and window, was smashed. Wet spots dotted the floor and carpeting. Author bent down to examine one of them. It was water.

"Where are the bodies?" asked Author.

"Removed. They were over there." Parode pointed to the far corner of the living room.

"Were they frozen?"

"Excuse me?"

"How did they die?"

"Extreme frostbite. Whoever did this lowered the temperature in the room and then prevented them from escaping. There were bruises; like they were held down. Almost crushed."

Author stood up and frowned.

"What's wrong? This not your guy?"

"Oh yes, I'm sure it is. It's just not exactly what I expected He wouldn't have had to hold them down. And the doors and furniture are smashed. Excessive violence is not his usual method."

"Who's method? Who are we after here."

"His name is December. He's only recently come to Montfort."

"Never heard of hi- Wait a minute. There's a new store near the bazaar..."

"December's Jewels. Same man."

"This man some kind of fugitive from Bephal?"

"No." Author continued to look around, taking in every detail of the house.

"What's this about, then?"

"Eliminating the competition." answered Author.

"Cerin was a food and spice trader. Not jewels."

"You've searched the house?"

"Everything except the basement. I've got men down there now."

"I suggest we join them. They're about to turn up something interesting."

The men made their way to a heavy oaken door, which stood ajar to reveal a staircase leading down. Torchlight illuminated the spacious bottom level of the Cerin house. It was currently cramped with men who were busily tearing into every crate and box they could find. There were quite a few. Author and Parode were only halfway down when one of the men shouted out.

"Sir! I've got something here!"

"What is it?" injected Author. "Jewels? Gold?"

"Who is that, sir?"

"It's alright. He's with us," explained Parode, "Sort of. What've you got?"

"Weapons and some gold. Lots of both."

They joined the men in the basement and examined two large crates filled with swords and armor, and another smaller crate crammed with gold coins.

"The weapons have no ensignia," said Parode. "Nothing wrong with that in itself, but there's too much gold here for a grocer."

"Undergound weapons. Benjamin Cerin must have been a supplier of cheap weaponry to the locals."

"That's not illegal. Not in Montfort."

"No. But that put him in contact with some of the wrong people. He was probably into other things we don't know about. Fencing stolen goods, perhaps. Extortion."

"Not a major player, or we would've known."

"Small time, then. Either way, he was into more than just food and spices."

"Looks like you're right. Mind explaining yourself, now? And this December character?"

"He's into everything. He fancies himself some kind of kingpin. Comes into a town, takes over the underground markets, unifies the criminal elements and destroys whoever won't deal with him. Eliminates any threats to his power with...very unique methods."

"Cerin?"

"Maybe. That's one of the pieces that doesn't fit. Cerin was small-time. Not overly ambitious from the looks of it. Certainly not a threat to December."

"But if there's more we don't know about... What's this man doing in Montfort? December? You run him out of Bephal?"

"Not exactly. December travels from place to place, like a nomad. Sets up shop, spreads his icy tentacles through the underground, chokes off the opposition, and when he's drained a town dry, he just leaves. Takes whatever prosperity there was with him. Before he came to Bephal, he was in Verness, north of Bayne-Mohr. When he left that town, it just dried up and blew away. Literally. There wasn't an honest soul left living there, just thieves and cut-throats. With not enough gold to go around, and without December's leadership, they set upon each and eventually set the town afire. The whole place burned to ashes. People and all.

"By the gods."

"Bephal was going to be next, but we had our own December. A character by the name of Jerimiah Trisk. Just as evil and maybe more powerful. The two went to war immediately."

"Why didn't you just lock these goons up?"

"Trisk owned half the TownGuard. The other half stayed away out of fear. Only me and a few others had the courage to stand up to them. Most of them are dead, now. Then there was the law. Trisk and December aren't stupid, they know the law and how to get around it. No one has ever seen or caught either of them doing anything illegal. No one that lived, anyway. That's the real source of their power. Anonymity. They're untouchable. December's not a fugitive because nothing's ever been proven against him."

"So what happened in Bephal? Why is he in Montfort, now?"

"The war escalated into all out frontal attacks. There was assassination attempt at the market square, and a woman was killed. By December. In front of witnesses. Self defense, but it didn't matter. December's cover was blown. Law-abiding citizens had seen him kill. They knew what he was capable of. Wouldn't trust him or do business with him. Bephal would be too rough of a market for him after that, so he set out for bigger and better things. Montfort."

"What exactly are we up against here? This guy some kind of ice-mage? What's he capable of?"

"What you found upstairs, and more. He has a... way... with heat and cold. If anyone was enough of a threat to demand his personal attention, then they usually ended up frozen solid in an alley somewhere. We found one man encased in a block of ice in his bathtub. It wasn't pretty."

"You said frozen, but not frostbitten like the Cerins. There's a difference."

"Yes, I know. That's the other piece that doesn't fit."

"Maybe he's changing his methods. Trying to keep hidden."

"Could be."

"I think we've got enough of a reason to pay Mr. December a visit. Ask him a few questions about his whereabouts last night."

"He'll be at his store now. We should wait until tonight, when he's home. I want to see inside his house. That will also give us some time to ask some more questions about Cerin. Find out what the motive was."

"Good idea. We'll drop in on him at sundown."

"He won't like that." said Author.

"I don't care. This isn't some hick farm-town in the southlands, this is Montfort. We've got a murder and now we've got a suspect. He's answering some questions whether he likes it or not."