From the courtyard of Fanrasha Hall you could see the doves flying. Out from the highest windows of the tower they soared. Dozens of bright white shapes peppering the washed out yellow sky. Shiek Fanrasha watched them from his open chamber window. His tiny messengers, each with a hand written letter destined to change the tides of trade between the Ivors and the Alk'Harans.
It seemed the last of his affairs were finally in order. This plan had been in the making for most of his adult life, and only in the past months had it truly come to fruition. Ambushing the Lionne merchants using Hobgoblins as mercenarys had given his guild the advantage in southern towns. Seeds of rebellion against recent trade treaties were being sewn amongst his fellow political allies. If felt as though the ability to start a great war rested in his worthy hands. His queen would reward his efforts. This though made him glance down at his gloved fingers. Dozens of golden rings decorated his slender digits. One ring in particular with a date sized gem hummed with a dark energy. It pulsed like a tiny heartbeat. He kissed it for luck. It had always helped him before.
Fanrasha glided quietly across his chamber to his massive oak wardrobe. With a wave of his hand it swung open, and he casually stepped inside. He knew what he needed, and right where it was. He pulled the thick set of black open robes off it's hanger, feather light despite it's size. He swung the soft fabric around his body and tied it closed.
The silence of the room was suddenly assaulted as a desperate knocking on his door came. Pulling his cowl over his bare face, the Shiek moved to the door in far too few steps. He pulled it open with frustration to see his new gift. The assasin Crowfoot, given to him at last nights unusual banquet. The warrior bowed to his master and held out his delivered package. A long white chest adorned with sea shells.
"You interrupt my preparations Crowfoot. What is this you bring to me? Is it worth your life?"
"My master. I bring to you the chest of one of your guests at last nights table. I found them leaving the castle with bags of my lords money. The coins have been taken to the lower crypts for safe keeping. This chest was among the theif's possessions my master."
Fanrasha took the chest in his hands. Inside it he could feel the tingle of magic spreading though his fingers, as though their blood was returning.
"So not only do you stop a thief from taking part of my riches, you bring me a fine gift. And I expect you want something in return." The Shiek asked arcing a trimmed eyebrow.
"I wish only to server my master." Crowfoot bowed lower, averting his eyes.
"Then you were indeed a fine present. Fine then. You wish to serve me? Take yourself to guard the courtyard. If things go according to plan, my palace may soon be filled with excitement. Take 10 of my guards with you. Then send out the remaining guards to accompany the wagon I have packed north. It MUST reach Den'Mezier. You have your orders. Now leave me."
The assassin stood without a word, bowed again, and left to do his masters bidding. Things indeed were about to come to life. He wasn't afraid. It was just the final step in his long forming campaign. Tonight he would dine with the Queen, as the armies marched South, and claimed the lands of Lionne once and for all.
Grabbing a few items off a shelf he turned to walk down into the main hall, long black robes flowing behind him. In one sleeve he tucked an old wand. In the other a rolled up piece of dusty parchment. After so many years of working through servants, it would be nice to once again get his hands dirty, as he had in years passed. He gave his ring another kiss. Just for good measure.
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