The sickly sweet smell of maple wood mixed with the acrid smoke and burning flesh made Fallon's eyes water as she stood by the funeral pyre for the tows Duchess; Lady Vivica of Derk. Not from grief but from the plumes of smoke that billowed towards the sky obscured by grey listless clouds. The heavy wool of her shapeless skirts made her body burn from the heat.

Strands of her auburn hair stuck to her face in a sheen of sweat. The lady had died of natural causes, that was what the Duke's advisor had told the towns people. Yet a seed of doubt hung low in Fallon's stomach, plaguing her mind.

A heavy hand on her shoulder caused her to look up, Graham, the town's burly blacksmith and a close friend of her family, looked grimly down at her.

"Your father, it's his time, he's fading fast, come quickly." His deep baritone voice was laced with angst.

Fallon nodded and followed the massive man through the anguished crowd. Graham's broad shoulders and barrel chest were not an easy thing to ignore as he passed; many nodded to him out of respect and either plaintively ignored Fallon or gave her an icy glare.

Fallon's father's health had spiraled rapidly downwards in the past week; it was his time to go. Fallon had long before come to terms with his looming death, just as she had her mother's. Many of the town's people feared her, her lack of emotion and odd colored hair labeled her abnormal. Whispers of witch and demon followed her, leaving fear and hate in her wake.

Fallon did nothing to warrant this obscene label, she kept her head down and her mouth shut. Her home sat on the outside of town, it had long ago lost its luster, the wood was now faded and warped. The house air was cool and damp as Fallon stepped in behind Graham, who had to hunch his goliath shoulders to fit through the door.

Her father lay against pillows his skin pale and drawn, dark circles smudge under his eyes. With a deep sigh, Fallon strode to her father's bedside. Jovan Teodor had once been a Captain in the King's Legion, highly respected. That had been long ago; his once dark hair now silver, the hard planes of his face had long since faded to pliable skin and aged wrinkles.

Jovan reached out and grabbed Fallon's hand, his spidery fingers curling around her long nimble ones, "my daughter, you are strong. Stronger than I have ever been."

He coughed, his feeble chest wracking with force, "I leave to you Estok." Estok was his sword from when he was captain, handed down to him through generations of men; only to leave it to Fallon, his only daughter.

"Use it well and it will protect you against death itself." His voice rasped.

Fallon nodded, "yes papa, I will."

"I love you Fallon." He croaked, with one last heaving cough, the air escaped his lungs. His pale blue eyes glazed over with a sheen of death and he lived no more.

Fallon bowed her head and stood, "Jovan Teodor is no longer walking in this realm. Graham please see to it that his body is disposed of; I must see to his affairs."

Fallon's voice was calculated and mechanical, as if she had been practicing those words her entire life.

With a bow of the head, Graham's warm brown eyes filled with tears, "yes lady." Fallon patted his arm and kissed his grizzly cheek.

"It will be all right Graham, it always is." She encouraged softly before she swept out of the door.

The sun had set some time ago, the plains now filtered no light in the darkest of hours. The shadows shifted, a man swayed along with them, using the shadows as protection. His grey mottled cloak appeared to alter as he moved, a quick trick of an eye and he was gone. His soft leather boots made no sound as he ran along the dirt pathway.

His breathing was slow and steady, the hood of his cloak drawn over his head; casting his face into the shadows that surrounded him. The sound of voices and the faint flickering of a torch quickened his pace until his back hit the stonewall. Holding his breath, he stood motionless as two guardsmen strode past, their drunken voices slurred with laughter.

Letting out the soft breath slowly, the man's eyes flitted towards the roof, the light of a solitary room blared brightly against the darkened ones. Turning to face the wall, he stood for a moment with his hands on his hips, studying ever crack and crevice.

Bending his knees, he leapt into the air, hooking his fingers into the loosened stones. His hands and feet found holds on their own accords, his eyes flitting across the cold stone. He climbed the wall swiftly, making as little noise as possible. His fingers hit the sill of the window and he quickly hoisted his body up until his feet touched.

He crouched in the window, eyes scanning the room for any possible danger or traps; concluding there was none his feet dropped softly to the wooden floors. A sound of applause came from the corner by the fireplace and lamp flickered to life.

"Bravo Eldrick, though I must say, I believe you are bit late." The flickering light lit up a wise face. The King of Carcendonia sat primly in a high-backed chair; his white snowy hair slicked back, his grey eyes sharp with knowledge.

The man threw back the hood of his cloak; his long shaggy black hair was tied back with a band of leather across his forehead. "I must disagree their my lord, perhaps you are simply early." His face was impassive, no flicker of smile or hint of laughter.

"Live a little Eldrick; it will do you some good." The Kings deep voice rang out as he spread his hands wide.

Eldrick stood stock-still, hands fisted behind his back, "if it's all the same to you my lord, I'd rather not, living a little seems to get too many killed in my line of work."

The king nodded his head, "sadly you are right my old friend. What news do you have for me?"

Eldrick reached in his cloak and took out a rolled piece of parchment, "The King Mathias has fallen, the Kravians move quickly. I do not know when they will be upon us; my men are monitoring them closely. They will reach the Cardashian woods in a day's time. From there they will ruin the town nearest."

King Zachary's lips thinned as he read the report, "must we sacrifice so many for our freedom." He rubbed his temples, running his hands through his hair.

He finally stood pacing in the front of the empty fireplace, "no we will not. Eldrick send men to evacuate that town, bring them to the Peldum's Keep. I will meet you there when you send word of your arrival go." He waved a dismissed hand.

Eldrick the king's ranger bowed slightly at the waist and drew his cloak back over his head, "good day milord" and he jumped out of the window.

Somersaulting in the air, he landed nimbly on his feet and took off towards the woods that encircled the plain.