Serpent. Merchant Town of Arende.
You return to get your pay for a job well done. After all, you complied with all the terms of the contract. You just burned the house down, but what's the deal, right?
Wrong. The merchant is seething with anger, claiming your extra "bonus" ruined the whole facade and has drawn attention to the matter unnecessarily, and he could be accused of performing the did. He shouts, and four Arende guards (who had already been prepared you could tell by the speed in which they swarmed the room) point their pikes at you and demand you to surrender. The merchant openly accuses you of performing this vile did entirely out of malice.
Arende is a town of rich merchants. Security is always tight, and swift. The jails are brimming with burglars, and careless pickpockets. Dealing with the guards is one option, though that might draw attention to you and you won't be safe until you exit the city. Your other option would likely be surrendering, and escaping jail, either before entering o after.
Owl. Millian Library.
Your plan has been approved by the two generals. While making the preparations, a man with several guards approaches. You recognize him as one of Sarte's most esteemed bodyguards, but you don't know much about him. He immediately is aware of what's going on, and claims he will now be the person in charge. He demands to be briefed on the plan. You aren't an ordinary warrior, and neither is this man. You probably won't be held responsible for aiding the generals because you were a mere adviser, so as of now you see no choice but to continue with the plan.
Wolf. Forest of the Swam.
The battalion of viking galleys you saw the night before apparently landed, facing the southern flank of the forest. From the north, barbarians raided. It was a simple strategy, but an effective one. You don't know how many men are on the northern front, but you already know the are too many for a single person to deal with in the south. You realize that this place will likely fall to the barbarians' grasp in a matter of days.
Kitty. Mountain Valley of Prisa.
You are walking on the village at night, when suddenly a hand shoves you in the darkness, covering your mouth. It is surprising someone can sneak up to you, so whoever it is, that person has great skill. You struggle, but the person tells you to shush. For some reason you are compelled to pause for a moment, that's when you smell the person's hand in your mouth, the smell of the wild: grass and soil. It's a nostalgic smell. Your gut starts twisting with remorse.
"Find them. Everyone. We will pull one last job," says the familiar voice and lets you go.
You hear a cloak tugging in the wind, and you turn around eager to meet the face, remorse and happiness entwined together. You want to shout her name, to touch the person to see if this isn't a dream, but when you turn, she's gone. Frustration and sadness envelop your being.
What just happened?
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