[December]

December sat alone and unmoving... a statue of frozen calm... a monument to the art of contemplation. Yet beneath the surface his mind was a roiling, surging tempest. For the first time in many long years, December was... unsure.

His mind normally worked like a fine, complex machine.... Plotting and planning. Scheming. Spinning webs of deceit and death that entangled his and trapped his enemies. He lived by feeding upon their petty empires and expand his own. But like all great machines, it was brought to a jarring halt by the smallest of things... a woman. A single, solitary soul. Theesa. Her arrival had disrupted him like no other event since... since he became who he was. And what was he? He WAS the kingpin... he WAS the untouchable lord of an Autonomous Criminal State... but NOW he was just a petty kidnapper, and an inept one at that.

And Why?

Her.

Theesa.

He should kill her... he KNEW he should kill her. She was dangerous. A threat. The woman had spent one night under his roof, and already she had uncovered secrets that he thought were long buried... what would another night unearth? Too much. She had to die... and she had to die right now. RIGHT NOW!

But her face... by all that was sacred, she was wearing his dead wife's FACE!

How? Why? How could such a thing NOT be a trap! How could it NOT be a ruse to play upon his memories... his memories of the last thing he had ever loved. WHO would do such a thing! WHO! No one... because no one knew.

Those who knew of his wife were dead and gone. There were a few... but J'Hasp was incapable... and N'Doki would not DARE commit this treachery. If the necromancer even became aware of Theesa's presence he would flay her the bone and decorate his dark abode with her still-beating heart. Oh, yes... N'Doki could certainly get the truth of this mystery... he would peel away the layers of her soul until there was no room for even the smallest secret to hide. The process would leave her a quivering vegetable... but the truth would at last be revealed. December had ordered it done before... so why not now? Why not her?

Theesa's uncanny resemblance to his wife was the only thing that had kept her alive and intact... but was that all? Was that the only reason, or was there something else... something deeper?

And how did he know she wasn't telling the truth? He did he know this whole thing wasn't some grand accident. A coincidence. Couldn't this women be EXACTLY what she claims and nothing more? Why must she be his enemy?

Because he knew better. Things were NEVER what they appeared... never. Never. Never.

She was a spy. An assassin. She was the gift of death flung from the hand of some long forgotten foe. A tool... like a fine poison in his wine or a handful of crushed glass dusted across his favorite meal. She must be rendered harmless and disposed of before the trap had a chance to spring. And yet he couldn't help but wonder-

December's chain of thought was interrupted by a sharp tingling behind his left ear. It was Lovvorn. The annoying mage was not present, but his magic was stretched across this house in a dense network of trip-wires and silent alarms. Right now, that network was raising a warning. Foreign magic was in use...

It was Theesa.

She was doing it again...

---

[Theesa]

The image snapped into sharp focus in her mind. It was December again... but this was the *young* December that she had seen earlier. The same long white hair... the same smiling, youthful face. Theesa even recognized the clothing. White shirt, brown pants. She had witnessed his wife dressing him in those garments earlier that morning.

Wait a minute, she thought. This is the same day as the events in the other vision...how odd...

December navigated a series of streets with a strong, forceful gait. His arms swung back and forth at his side, like a child imitating a military march. The streets themselves were dirty and oppressive. Most of the buildings looked abandoned, even though dirty faces peered from the broken windows. A few derelicts pointed and whispered as December strolled past, but none approached. They all kept their distance, despite the appearance of an easy target.

Theesa had no idea how far December had already walked... surely the young jeweler's apprentice did not *live* among such squalor. Theesa watched... and saw the streets change as he made his way through the poorer neighborhoods and into the commercial district. Dilapidated hovels gave way to polished storefronts, and the derelicts were replaced with hard-working storekeepers on their way to work. A few waved at December, but most turned away and avoided looking at him.

December rounded a corner and approached the small shop with a slight spring in his step. He was obviously looking forward to a his day as a jeweler's apprentice. As he drew closer, however, his gait slowed. His smile faltered. Finally, he paused across the street and studied the scene.

The shop was a small, one-story wood building. There were huge iron bars on the windows... which were supposed to prevent someone from smashing the glass and looking the display cases just behind them. But the cases were empty, and the front door stood wide open.

Something was wrong.

Confused and worried, December walked across the street. He stood outside the door for a moment and listened:

"...don't care WHAT problems you got... you better have our MONEY!"

"Yeah! Money!"

"But...but I'm just a jeweler... I only make so much, but you keep asking for more and more..."

"We'll just have to start taking some of these jewels as payment, then."

"Yeah! Jewels!"

"N-no! They aren't paid for! I-"

"Shut up, old man! Either hand over some jewels or we start breakin' things."

"Yeah! Breaking Things!"

December had heard enough. He stepped into the shop. There were three people inside. One was Ylthon, the short, elderly jeweler that ran the shop. The gray-haired old man was cowering in a corner, literally shaking in his boots.

Before him were two men. Both were a little over 6' tall; one was slim and hand a sword strapped to his belt. The other was like a walking pile of muscle dressed in leather armor. They had their backs to December, but the muscular one heard him enter.

"Hey, look." he said. "It's the freak!"

The thin one turned and looked December in the eye. He had a long scar running down the length of his face, from the temple to the base of the jaw.

"Look who decided to join us... it's freak-boy. "

"Whaddaya YOU want, freak." said the other man.

"I want you to leave this store." said December. There was an edge to his voice that Theesa couldn't imagine coming from the man who was holding her hostage... it was fear. He was afraid of these men, she could feel it... yet he was standing up to them nonetheless.

"Leave?" Scar laughed. "Do you know who we ARE, freak-boy?"

"Oh, I know who you are all right. " said December. "The King brothers. Billy and Sam. And my name is NOT freak-boy; it's December." December turned to the old man... "What's going on here, Ylthon?"

"That's Scar and Fist to you, freak." said the larger brother. He approached December, and December backed away and eased over toward the wall. "And what's going on is none of your business."

"I don't remember asking you." It was false bravery. Though he was making an attempt to breathe normally, December's heart was thumping loudly in his chest, and a cold lump of solid fear was clogging his throat. "Y-Ylthon? Are these...people... bothering you?"

The large brother kept advancing. December pressed his back against the wall and slid slowly over toward the corner.

"Where YOU been, freak?" said Scar "The old man's been payin' us for months. Only now he's late with a payment, so we gotta get a little rough."

"Yeah!" said Fist. "Rough!"

"This true, Ylthon? You- Have you been doing business with this scum?"

"Hey, watch what you say about the King brothers, freak!" said Fist.

"I'm not afraid of you."

"You SHOULD be," said Scar. "We run this town and everything in it."

"You don't run this store. Ylthon does."

"And WE run Ylthon. Isn't that right, old man?"

"N-N-N-...Yes."

"Ylthon, why didn't you tell me?" said December. He had made his way to the corner now. Moving slowly... he reached over and grasped the push-broom that was sitting there.

"I-I didn't want y-you to get into t-trouble! Y-You've got a family and-"

"eh? Freak-boy's got a family? You hear that, Scar? This freak's got a family!"

"heh, heh"

"Why is that so amusing?" December stepped forward and confronted Fist. The white-haired youth was a little taller than the thug, but his spindly limbs were like twigs compared to Fist's bulging arms. Still, December did not back down when Fist scowled at him. Instead, he placed his boot on the bottom of the broom and began twisting the handle, unscrewing the pole from the base.

"Whatcha want me to do with this freak-boy, Scar?"

"Tie him in a few knots while the old man here watches. Make sure it hurts. Really bad."

Scar and Fist both smiled.

"Yeah..." said Fist.

"I... I wouldn't do that if I were you." said December. The broom-handle came away from the base.

December tightened his grip.

"Oh, whatcha gonna do? Hit me with a broom?"

"Yes."

Fist rushed toward December, but the lanky youth was already on the offensive. He brought the pole up and, instead of swinging it like a clumsy club, he thrust it forward... right into Scar's throat. The move was too quick for the hulking thug to block. His eyes bulged, the pain and surprise registered visibly on his face. "H-h-h-h-h!" Fist tried to talk, but couldn't. His windpipe was severely bruised. December's blow had come very close to crushing his throat, which would have killed him instantly. "H-h-h-h!"

The pole struck again several more times, smacking repeatedly into Fist's right ear. Fist stumbled away, bleeding profusely from the side of his head and grasping frantically and at his swelling throat...

"Hey!" said Scar. "What did you do to my brother!"

"December!" shouted Ylthon. "Run!!"

Scar drew his weapon... a sword... and stepped forward. December made a low swipe with the broom- handle, but Scar hopped over it and swung his sword.

*WOOSH*

December jerked backwards and jabbed the pole into Scar's stomach. Then he swung for the man's head, but Scar blocked it with the flat of his sword. The two men scowled into each other's eyes.

"I could have killed your brother but I didn't," said December. "Now go away and leave us ALONE!"

"That was luck, freak... THIS is SKILL!"

Scar shoved December back and brought his sword around. He stepped forward and made a series of lunges and jabs that forced December back. December blocked as best he could with the pole, but Scar was too quick. In one strike, he rotated his grip at the last second and the blade cut cleanly through the staff, slicing it in half.

Scar paused.

"No more stick." he said with a cocky smile on his face. "Now whatcha got to say?"

"Thanks!"

December struck at Scar's sword hand with one stick, and, at the same time, jammed the blunt end of the other into the bridge of Scar's nose. The already crooked broke with a satisfying *crunch.*

"Owww!" Surprised, Scar dropped his sword.

"Now I've got TWO weapons."

December spun and snapped the right pole across Scar's lower jaw, loosening a few teeth and leaving a brilliant bruise on Scar's face.

Before Scar could react, December began working Scar over with the two ends of the broom-handle. Using both hands, he cracked the thug on the top and sides of his head five... six... seven times, and continued until the pole ends snapped into pieces too small to be used.

As the useless sticks fell from December's hands, a huge pair of tree-trunk arms closed around his waist, pinning his own spindly arms to his side.

Fist leaned back and lifted December a few inches off of the ground.

"h-h-h-h-h!"

"Lemme go!" The arms squeezed tighter, December struggled but couldn't free himself.

"Hold 'em, Fist!"

Scar drove his fist into December's stomach.

"Unngh!" the cry of pain came from both December AND Scar.

"What's he MADE of?" said Scar as he rubbed his bruised knuckles. "Guess I'll have to use this..." Scar retrieved his sword from the floor and stood before December.

"You okay back there, Fist?" he said.

"H-h-h-h-he's h-heavvy." Fist's voice was barely above a whisper in December's ear. "a-and c-c-cold, tooo."

"This won't take long. Let's slice him open and see what kinda freak guts he's got!"

"NOOO!" cried Ylthon, still crouching in the corner. "Leave him ALONE!"

"Shoulda told HIM that, old man. This was all about money... but HE had to go and make it personal. And since you were nice enough to tell us he's got a family, we're gonna pay THEM a visit, too. Maybe we'll drop off his head when we're done kicking it up and down the street."

"Let me GO!"

"So whaddya got, freak? Kids? A wife? We LIKE wives..."

"nnNNNOOO!" December suddenly ceased his struggles. His sky-blue eyes began to pulse angrily.

The temperature in the room began to drop.

Scar swung his sword.

"...ah! AHH!!" Fist dropped December and backed away. December ducked, and Scar's sword sliced harmlessly through the air above him.

"FIST, you dolt! You dropped 'im!"

"ahh! Ahhhh!!"

Fist was standing with his arms held out away from his body. He reached up and pulled off his leather chestplate, which cracked and split in half when it hit the floor. Beneath it, Fist's skin was a pale blue color. There were large patches of frozen, dead skin all over his chest and arms.

"B-billy?" said Fist. His tiny voice was quivering with fear. "Billy, help me...it hurts... I... I think he killed me!"

"What'd you do to my brother, FREAK!!"

Scar's sword glinted in the light as it arced towards December's neck. December ducked and grabbed Scar's arm as it passed.

"AAAHH!! MY ARM!" The sword hit the ground at once.

December yanked the thug toward him and, with his other hand ripped Scar's shirt away from his body. The shirt didn't tear when December pulled it... it *crackled* and fell away at angry youth's touch.

"LEMME GO!!!"

Scowling, December placed the flattened palm of his hand a few inches from Scar's chest. The bare skin began to turn blue.

"Don't you EVER come here again." snarled the apprentice. "You hear me... EVER!"

"AAHHH! AHHHHHH! STOPPIT! FIST, GET HIM OFFA ME!"

"And If I see you near my wife... if you even MENTION her again... I. Will. Kill. You."

LEMME GO YOU FREAK!!!"

"What did you call me? A freak? A FREAK! I'll SHOW you a FREAK!"

December slapped his hand onto Scar's chest.

"AIIIIIGGGGH!!!!!!" Scar screamed until his lungs emptied, and then dropped to his knees. Tears streamed down his face as he felt his skin being seared away by the intense cold. His pants darkened as the thug's bladder voided.

December kept his hand in place, sending more and more deadly cold into the man who had dared threaten his wife.

"December STOP IT!" It was Ylthon's voice. The little man had come out of his corner and was now holding Scar's sword. He was pointing it at December. "No." said December.

"Stop it RIGHT NOW!" Ylthon slapped December's arm with the flat of the sword. The blade sliced through his sleeve and bit into his forearm

"OWWW!" December yanked his hand away, along with the top layers of Scar's skin which were frozen to his palm. Scar screamed and collapsed. When he rolled over, December's hand-print was clearly visible on his chest.

"Who's the freak, NOW?" spat December. He was holding his injured arm, trying to stop the bleeding. A blue liquid was leaking out from between his fingers.

Scar got up on his hands and knees and tried to crawl away. Fist helped his brother to his feet, and the pair of them headed for the door. Just as they left, Fist turned around as if to say something, He saw December's injured arm...

"...his blood is blue..." he mumbled.

Scar looked as well.

"Gods! He IS a freak!"

"Let's get out of here!"

"We'll be back!" yelled Scar as they stepped out into the street.

"The HELL you will!" shouted December.

"Stoppit!" said Ylthon.

"Why'd you hit me!"

"Because you were killing that man!"

"No I wasn't!"

"Well it LOOKED like it to ME!"

"So! He was going to kill me! And YOU too, most likely!"

"Not if you'd left well enough alone!"

"And he threatened my wife!"

"It was just a threat! They don't even know your LAST NAME! HOW are they going to find Jessica! THAT'S why I've been trying to keep you OUT of this-"

"And letting those... those... THUGS take our money! How much are you paying them, Ylthon? How much?"

"That's none of your concern."

"What do you mean none of my concern? That's why you don't make me partner, isn't it? Because all of our money is going to the King brothers!"

"I don't make you partner because you're not READY. You're not a business man, December. You don't THINK! The King brothers run this town! Paying them off is just another business expense-"

"WHAT! I will NOT have these men coming in and TAKING our hard-earned money!"

"We pay TAXES, don't we? It's the same thing... But now you've ruined it! They'll be coming back here... All THREE of them, next time! And they'll be looking for YOU!"

"I beat them once-"

"So now they'll be ready! Don't let Fist and Scar fool you... the King brothers are not stupid!"

"I'll deal with them."

"No you won't. They'll destroy everything! This store is all I have! It's worth any price to keep it in one piece!"

"We'll put more locks on the door and buy some stronger magic. I know someone who-"

"They can get into this store no matter how many wards and protection spells you use. They've done it before. You'll come in one morning and they'll be waiting for you. Waiting for us both."

"How? How do they get past the-"

"That doesn't matter. Go home, December. Go home to your wife."

"What? What about the store?"

"The store is closed until further notice."

"You're running?!?"

"No. I'm just protecting my assets. I've already taken the most valuable pieces and hid them. When the King brothers come back they can have whatever they want... and in a few weeks they will have forgotten about the whole thing."

"But that's like cutting off your leg and throwing it to the dogs. You just hope that they'll be satisfied with the leg and won't come sniffing after the rest."

"Dogs don't eat when they aren't hungry. And December... when the store DOES open again, we'll have to have a SERIOUS talk about whether you still have a place in it or not."

"No, Ylthon! Please-"

"I've not made my decision yet... but I do know that I cannot have you endangering all that I've worked for. Go home, December."

"But Ylthon-"

"You are forgetting who is the Master and who is the Apprentice, boy. I said go home."

"Yes sir."

Head lowered in dejection, December left the store and turned towards home. He had gone only a short distance when--

The vision vanished as the blanket was snatched violently from Theesa's hand. Theesa gasped and turned... December was glaring down at her, his blue eyes were glowing steadily. Theesa shivered... but it wasn't entirely from the sudden drop in temperature.

"I-" she started "I... I was just-"

"I have reached a decision," said December. "You must be disposed of before your curiosity reveals any more than it already has."

"No..." Theesa backed away.

"Tell me what you saw. Tell me now, and I promise that your death will be painless."

"Get away from me!"

December reached out for her...

"NOOOO!!!!"

-------

[Bradley]

It was dark... Bradley's favorite time of day. It least it USED to be his favorite. There was a time when rogues like himself felt relatively safe practicing their craft under the cover of night... but that time was rapidly fading. Bradley had just left the healer, having paid for her rather painful procedure in full. He had been the lucky one, Borce and Jed had both been killed by that freak in the blue robe, but all HE got was two of his own cross-bow bolts jammed through his shoulders. It hurt like hell, but at least he was alive.

Yes... with all the sudden changes and new arrivals in town, Montfort just wasn't the place it used to be. Too many new players in the game. Just a few months ago it had been easy to keep clear of the big boys. You knew where to step and where not to. Aeragar, Templeton Glenn, Sinterbourne, Sol the Snail... each had their own yard and if you didn't venture into it then you were okay. Now half of them were gone, and people were getting scared. Even the street-thieves like himself were worried... The Tower Guard was bad enough, but a speeding blue freak in a mask? No...not any more. Bradley decided it was time to move on.

He was on his way out of town... saying his good-byes and paying his debts to avoid getting hunted down like a dog, when he got word of something going on. Something Big. There was money involved... excitement... and an end to the meddling newcomers that had been sweeping across the Montfort criminal scene. Someone was going to clean house. Bradley wanted in.

There were about thirty men. Roughly. Brad couldn't actually count that high, but it was more than ten and less than a bazillion... so it was thirty. He knew some of them... quite a few were former employees of Templeton Glenn. They were good men who had the misfortune to work for an overly cautious employer. Word on the street was that Templeton was closing up shop and cutting all his men loose. Some of Sol the Snail's people were there as well, plus a few hard-heads from the PanDemonica. Most prominent among the latter was Belladrox, self-proclaimed warrior mage and all around trouble-maker. Not a nice guy, and he hadn't calmed down one bit since he lost his hand in a poorly-chosen fight.. He'd replaced it, though. The tall scalawag's right arm now ended in a working crossbow.

They were gathered in the shadow of a building near on of the more deserted parts of town. There were two burned-out structures nearby, which Bradley remembered quite well. One had supposedly been abandoned, but in reality it was home to about six families of derelicts. Most of them died in the fire. The other had been an old inn years ago, but most recently it had served as headquarters for Damion vonSinterbourne and his blood-arena. A lot of people had been inside it when it went up. It was just a pile of ashes now. No great loss.

The ground around them was blackened and still smelled of old smoke. Everyone knew what had happened here, and they were nervous. This wasn't the most inspiring place to gather a force of men. It represented failure. Defeat. Death. And most of all, the power of the enemy who's name everyone carefully avoided mentioning. Still, there was supposed to be safety in numbers... wasn't there?

He was trying to remember the names of some of the others when four men appeared at the end of the street. Two carried torches that illuminated the group as they approached. Bradley could tell right away that they weren't typical Montfort criminals. Everything about them screamed 'mercenaries.' The way they walked. Their stance and posture. Weapons and armor... polished swords and hardened leather plate. They were professional soldiers... the kind of skilled killer that most Montfort criminals *wished* they were.

The men stood before the collected group... inspecting and being inspected. Their leader was a large bald man who, oddly enough, carried no weapons. He DID have a thick chain wrapped around his waist. The man scanned the gathering with a blank expression... finally he spoke.

"You all know what we're here for?" he said. His voice was a near-monotone; making it different to decided if he were making a statement or asking a question. "You know what this is about."

"No." replied a man standing next to Bradley. He didn't know him.

"Then leave. Anyone who doesn't know why he's here should leave now."

Six people turned and left.

"The rest of you are fools, liars, spies... or very well informed. I've no time to sort you all out... the next few days will do that for me. My name is Chain. I'm the last person in the world you'll want to betray."

"You don't scare me!"

It was Belladrox. The tall scraggly-looking warrior shoved his way to the front of the group. He had his crossbow-arm pointed at Chain's throat.

"Kill me then." said Chain. His men didn't move, but their eyes were focused on the man threatening their leader.

"Not until I hear what you got to say. You wanna take down December... I wanna know how you plan on doin' it."

"You won't find out until it's done. None of you will. You'll receive orders from me or my men... and you will follow them. For that, you will be paid handsomely."

"How do we know you're not some crackpot, then? I bet you can't even take ME down!" Belladrox moved the crossbow in little circles around Chain's head. A murmur went through the crowd, but Chain didn't move.

"You want proof?"

"Yeah."

"Who else want's proof?"

The murmurs grew. A few people shouted in support of Belladrox, but Bradley noticed that these 'supporters' were easing back towards the rear of the crowd.

"Men who want proof of MY abilities don't have enough confidence in THEIR OWN. But knowing the type of lowlife I'm dealing with here, I anticipated as much. That's why we're here. In this place."

"Why's that, eh?" said Belladrox. "Start 'splaining cause this trigger slips sometimes."

"We've got gold. And men. What we need now is weapons. The ones you have now are no good... we need real weapons. Military Grade."

"From HERE? Sinterbourne's men weren't any better equipped than anybody else. And whatever they had melted to slag in the fire."

"Not from Sinterbourne. From here..." Chain tapped his boot on the scorched ground.

"eh?"

"Sol the Snail's final gift to the cause. Think you can locate a large parcel of metal under the ground and tell us all where it is, battle-mage?"

"Of course."

"Do it."

"You'd better not be jerking me around." Belladrox lowered his bow and thrust his left hand outward. He held it at waist height, with the palm flat and facing downward. He strolled around in a little circle.

"Something's over there-" he pointed further down the street, away from the Sinterbourne ruins.

"Find it." said Chain.

"What's in it for me?"

"You want your proof, right?"

"Heh!" Belladrox strolled a few yards and stopped. "I'm standing on it. Two chests... maybe three. Too deep and heavy for me to get at 'em. Looks like YOU'RE going to have to dig-"

"Step aside."

Belladrox moved, and Chain took a position a few steps back from the buried objects. He stood with his hands on his hips.

"You want to see proof? Watch carefully..."

Chain took a deep breath. At first nothing happened, but then the chain began to unfurl from the large man's waist. Instead of piling up on the ground, it rose into the air and flailed about like a metal tentacle... getting longer and longer as more of it peeled away from Chain's waist.

It was alive.

The chain was alive.

Gasps ran through the crowd, and Belladrox ducked and ran for cover.

The living chain continued peeled away from its master...Feet became yards... and yards became still more yards. There was more metal flying about in the air than could have *possibly* been wrapped around Chain's waist. The chain whipped back and forth, glinting wickedly in the torchlight.
Then it suddenly shot into the ground. The free end buried itself into the soil and moved through it like a water-snake through a stream. Down and down, until the entire free length was submerged.

It kept going. More chain unfurled and fed down into the ground, but the amount of metal left around Chain's waist never seemed to diminish...

"What IS he?" said Bradley.

On and on it went... and then the show stopped. Chain stood just as he had before, with his hands on his hips. The soldier never moved an inch, and even his facial expression was unchanged. A long length of chain ran from his waist and into the scorched earth several feet in front of him. The chain was drawn tight. It began to vibrate.

The ground shook violently.

The intensity built an built... men stumbled to and tried maintain their balance. Bradley thought he was going to fall on his face. A few people actually did.

Then the ground in front of Chain erupted, showering the crowd with rocks and dirt. It was as if some huge creature had burst forth to swallow them all. Bradley shielded his eyes until the rain of debris ceased.

When he looked, he saw the impossible.

Three large chests floated effortlessly in the air, supported in the coils of the animated chain. The chain ran from its master's waist to the first chest, and from there to the second, and then on to the third. Each chest was encircled five or six times around the middle. Each had been literally *ripped* from its resting place deep under the ground.

The chain lowered the buried treasure and tightened around the sturdy wood-and-metal chests. Bradley heard the wood creak... the chests glowed as the protective magic that sealed them was strained to its limits. A second later it gave way... each chest cracked open like a crushed egg. Sparks flew as the enchantment was violently overcome and the chest's contents spilled onto the ground.

No one was even looking.

All eyes were still upon the metal chain as it returned to its master. With the steady clink of metal against metal, it coiled itself around Chain's waist and went still.

"By the gods," said Bradley.

"No," replied Chain. "By ME! HERE is your proof. I am not Sinterbourne, Nale, Trisk... or ANY of the others who have fallen."

Silence was the only response

"And now let us see what we have found..."

Chain and his three companions sifted through the wrecked chests. The others gathered around at a safe distance.

"Both more and less than I had hoped." said Chain. "Beyond military grade... but there's less of it than we need. " He pulled out a crossbow and examined it. "Who here is an archer?"

"I am." Bradley stepped forward.

"Here-" Chain tossed him the weapon, and he caught it out of the air.

It was a fine weapon. More than fine. It weighed almost nothing, and it had an adjustable tension mechanism that Brad had seen on only the most expensive weapons. He had never in his life touched such a weapon...it was easily worth more than the hands that held it.

"Demonstrate your skill... hit that building over there." Chain pointed to a stone building across the street.

"The building?"

"What? You don't think you can hit it?"

"Yeah, sure."

Chain tossed Brad a bolt from the ground. Brad loaded it and took aim. He adjusted the tension by twisting a knob to its halfway position... then he fired.

The bolt whizzed across the street. It didn't hit the stone wall the building... it went right *through* it, creating a head-sized crater in its wake. Brad nearly dropped the crossbow.

"Keep it," said Chain. "It's yours. My men get first choice of the rest. What little that's left you men can divide among yourselves. Fight for them if you want."

"Hey!" shouted Belladrox. He stepped forward. "I located the chests, the crossbow should be MINE!"

"You've already got one." Chain nodded towards the mage's right arm. "Unless you were wanting me to rip off your OTHER hand."

"You don't scare me. Fancy chains mean nothing to a trained battle-mage."

"Is that why you ran like a whipped dog? And for your information... I probed the street myself earlier today. I knew where the chests were. I just wanted proof of YOUR ability."

Belladrox turned to Brad with a scowl forming on his face... but the expression froze in mid-birth when he saw that Brad had the crossbow pointed at his chest.

"Like the man said, you've already GOT a bow."

Belladrox stepped to the side. Brad watched as the three men who arrived with Chain sorted through the three piles of weapons. One chest had contained four longswords of exquisite craftsmanship. The men took three of them and tossed the fourth into the crowd where six men began fighting over it. There was also a spiked mace and a double-bladed short-axe. The crowd got to fight over those as well.

Another chest contained armor, including a full suit of shiny steel plate-mail. Brad thought Chain would claim it for himself, but he tossed the heavy armor into the street and retrieved a set of arm bracers. He slipped them over his wrists and gave the remaining armor to the crowd.

The final chest, the one that had held Brad's new crossbow, also contained a longbow, nine or ten daggers of varying lengths and styles, two sets of balanced throwing knives, and an assortment of bolts and arrows.

In all, Sol the Snail's secret cache contained very little. It was hardly enough to equip an army, but the quality was the best that any of Montfort thieves had seen. The weapons were all light-weight with keen edges and rugged construction. Brad couldn't place the metal, but he could tell it wasn't ordinary steel. Their balance... especially the blades... were superior. The pieces of armor... no one managed to claim the entire suit... were equally light and well-crafted. By the time it was over, everyone managed to receive something from the stash. Even Belladrox... who was now the proud owner of the spiked mace.

"Consider this your first payment." said Chain. "I'll obtain more weapons when we need them."

"And exactly what will we be needing them FOR?" said Belladrox. "We just gonna go up and knock on his door?" He made a bashing motion with his mace.

"In a way. Our quarry has surrounded himself with many walls... the Night's Bloom... Eric Hood... the mage Lovvorn... now we are going to test the strength of those walls. We will bang on them... heavily. And when the time comes, we will knock them all down."

"And THEN what?"

"Then the master of the house will be ours. December will fall. And with the secrets that he has hidden away... Montfort will be ours."

[To Be Continued]