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Sitting nearby was Kato and he was wearing his customary smirk.

I could see he was playing dice against another member of the Axillary, who seemed to be loosing.

The man was not happy.

“You’re cheating,” he growled, gesturing to the table. “There no way you threw down two sixes one after another.”

“I believe that would be four sixes my good man,” drawled Kato. “I get the pot. A deals a deal."

Coins clinked as he dragged them towards himself.

“You cheating son of a whore!" the other rose to his feet, fists clenched at his sides. Kato arched an eyebrow.

"You sure you want to tangle with me, level 8?" he asked. The man\'s face was dark with anger. After a moment he turned on his heel and stormed away, muttering under his breath.

"You sure know how to make friends," I croaked as I sat up.

Kato glanced around.

"If it isn\'t our very own Hero," he said, throwing up his hand in mock salute.

"Back from the underworld. And here I was thinking that knock on the head might have actually did you in."

"I\'m alive," I said, grimacing. "But I\'m sore as hell."

"The after effects of a good healer will do that too you."

Someone cleared their throat loudly and I looked around.

“I am looking for Will."

A man stood outside our makeshift camp, looking like he\'d rather be anywhere else. His Rank appeared to me as Messenger and he looked the part.

He was wearing a coat of red and black, and his hat had a feather tucked into it. It seemed to wobble precariously every time he turned his head.

“I\'m Will.” I said.

“Ah,” the man wrinkled his nose as if he had smelled something foul.

“The Lord Blackthorne has returned from patrol. He wishes to see you. Now."

The fog cleared instantly from my mind.

“Did you say Lord Blackthorne?" I asked. "Hadrian Blackthorne?"

The Messenger sniffed.

“Who other?”

"What a pompous asshole," muttered Kato in a carrying whisper. The Messengers lips pursed, but he didn\'t otherwise respond to the jab.

I glanced down at my bare chest.

“I’ll just get dressed.” I said. "Give me a moment."

The Messenger waited for me outside and I rose to wash my face and hair at the water basin.

Draxus was sitting with his back to a log, a book propped open in his over large hands. I turned my head, trying to read the cover.

"Is that a romance novel?"

The glare he gave me could have melted iron.

"Mind your business Trollslayer."

“Where is Gills?” I asked as I tugged on a fresh tunic.

“He’s meeting with the Lord.” Said Draxus. “He has to report last nights events. The casualties were.. heavy."

Memories of last night flashed through my mind and I blinked them away. There would be time to process later. Right now, I had work to do.

Under the pretense of combing my hand through my wet hair I brought up the flashing quest window on my HUD and opened it.

Quest: Speak with Lord Hadrian Blackthorne

He was the one I’d come here to see. I felt both excited and a little nervous. So far, the quests had kept me alive. They started out as small, telling me how to kill minor monsters, or where to steal food to keep myself fed. But now… this felt different.

I stared at the words for a moment, lost in thought.

Then the Messenger poked his head into our small camp and gave me a withering look.

“A peasant does not keep a Lord waiting,” he snapped, feather quivering in indignation. I sighed and exchanged a look with Kato before following after him.

The Messenger walked like a man with a stick up his ass. He was well dressed in contrast to the soldiers of the camp and he seemed to expect everyone to either go around him, or make way.

I saw more than a few irritated looks cast in our direction. He led me across the main body of the camp and into the heart of it, where there was a secondary wall.

the soldiers standing guard were well armored and wore the colors of their Lord. I was brought before a Tent the size of a small house. A Banner snapped in the wind sporting the crest of A black horse rearing on a red field. The symbol of House Blackthorne.

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The Messenger stepped past the guards but I was stopped by a heavy hand on my chest.

“Hand over your weapons,” growled one of the two guards. I frowned. I didn’t want to part with my sword, but I sensed arguing would be a bad way to start off this interaction. Instead I unbuckled my sword belt and handed it over to him.

I decided to keep the hunting knife tucked in my boot and after a quick once over the soldier stepped aside.

“It’ll be here for you when you get back.”

I ducked under the tent flap and into a lush interior. There were wooden bookshelves lining the tent walls. They were filled with books on military tactics and stratagem, and tomes depicting the history of Kadia.

Several rich furs of gold and sable covered the canvas floor. At the Center of the tent was a dark wooden desk and behind it sat the man himself.

Lord Hadrian Blackthorne looked to be in his early thirties. He had dark hair cut short on the sides in the military fashion. His beard was oiled and trimmed and he wore his uniform well. He was a stark contrast to everything the Captain of the 3rd Auxillary had been in our first meeting.

Here was a man, I sensed, that had earned the respect of his troops through hard won battles.

He is hands were draped across the ornate hilt of a scabbarded great sword with it\'s tip to the ground. It was gilded with gold, and the ruby set into the pummel seemed to pulse with light.

Item: Dawnbreaker

Category: Mythic

So this was a Mythic Item. It was the rarest of loot drops and rumors had it that an item like that could only be claimed when the wielder killed a Legendary monster.

When the Messenger cleared his throat I glanced up, realizing I had been staring.

“You called for me My Lord?” I asked hastily.

Gills was standing off to the side of the tent. He made a gesture with his hand and I realized that I was meant to bow.

Bowing awkwardly at the waist, I lowered my head. Lord Blackthorne inclined his own head, looking somewhat amused.

“The Corporal tells me you were the one who brought down the Troll.” He said. His voice was deep and rich, and had a sort of resonance to it that denoted power.

I shifted on my feet.

“I helped to bring it down,” I clarified. “But ultimately it was the combined work of the 3rd Auxiliary that killed it.”

Lord Blackthorne seemed to consider that, his expression thoughtful.

“And only level 12,” he murmured. “It’s an impressive feat of bravery, if not downright suicidal.”

The Lord leaned back in his chair, his great sword resting against his thigh.

“Ser Herold is currently being attended by the healers. He has the 3rd Auxiliary’s brave actions to thank for his life. Unfortunately, his regiment took a serious hit during the battle. Many of his men were killed or seriously wounded, and the loss of horses and equipment will be enough to cripple his forces for some time."

He dragged a thumb across his lip.

"This leaves the War camp in a precarious position. Without a sizable force here, I am unable to take my men on proper patrol of the border. This will leave Eastern Kadia open, unless I call for aid from one of my allies."

He sighed heavily.

“I believe your assessment is correct, Corporal Giller."

"My Lord?"

"This attack seemed coordinated, as if the Goblins had waited for their chance and struck deliberately at a time when we would be less defended."

He leaned forward, his grip on Dawnbringer tightening.

“I’m afraid we have to consider the very real possibility that these Goblin Hordes are evolving.”

A chill went down my spine at the thought. I remember Giller’s assertions that before now, Goblin Hordes had been little more than beasts, savage and unthinking. But the events of last night had put things into perspective.

“My Lord,” said Gills carefully. “Do you mean to say that-“

The Lord held up a hand.

“I cannot be certain of anything - at least not so early and without true evidence. But I will be looking into this matter, make no mistake. At this point I don’t believe that I can afford not to.”

Gills throat bobbed and he bowed his head.

“Of course.”

I glanced between them, suddenly under the impression that I was missing something.

Before I could ask, a runner entered the tent and bowed to Blackthorne before approaching him. He handed over a piece of folded parchment stamped with an official seal in red wax.

Lord Blackthorne dismissed the runner and placed the parchment on his desk. For a moment he was silent, his dark eyes unreadable.

“I have a task for you,” he said at last.

“You’ve proved yourselves capable soldiers. But more than that I need men I know I can trust. Are you those men?”

He glanced between us and I got the sudden feeling that this was a critical moment. Remembering the Quest I stepped forward and met the Lord’s eyes.

“You can.” I told him. He held my gaze for a long moment, then he nodded.

“Then I’m entrusting this task to you. Select a dozen of your most trusted soldiers from your regiment. You’ll travel due Northeast, along the ridge line to castle Basset. I need this message hand delivered to The Count himself. It’s for no other eyes, do you understand?”

Gills stepped past me and tucked the message into the inside pocket of his tunic. Then he nodded seriously.

“It will be done My Lord."

"Good." Blackthorne rubbed at a temple with his free hand.

"Give the Count a full account of what\'s happened here. He may be able to release a few squads of men to help patrol the border farther south. Oh, and Will,"

He smiled at me and dimples appeared on his cheeks. He looked like a different man, less imperious and more... human.

"I believe you are owed some of the Trolls harvest. Go and see my Crafter with Corporal Giller, and he\'ll give you and the Auxiliary your fair share of the loot.”

"Well that was cryptic," I muttered as we made our way back through the camp. Gills looked troubled, his eyes on the ground as we walked.

“There is something going on here," he mumbled "And I don’t just mean about Goblins. I mean politically. Ever since the death of Captain Everard I’ve gotten the sense that the Noble houses are locked in some sort of silent war.”

He glanced over his shoulder and I took the opportunity to ask the question that had been on my mind.

“You think Everard’s death was foul play?” I guessed, my voice low. “What gives you that impression?”

Gills jaw clenched and his brows drew together.

“There was something off about it from the start. The Captain was a seasoned veteran, what’s more he was a Gifted.”

At my look of confusion he clarified.

“Most combat classes don’t rise beyond level 25 or 30. It’s considered quite common among class-holders, and rising that far in and of itself is a respectable feat. But there are those who can break level 30, those with specialized abilities and power. We call them Gifted.”

“I’m assuming that’s rare?”

He nodded. “Mostly. I think every 1 out of a thousand combat class holders have potential. Only half as many are Gifted."

He waited as a pair of soldiers on watch passed us.

"Anyway, Evander was one of these gifted. No real surprise considered he was at least partially related to Lord Blackthorne. But for him to be slain in the field on a routine patrol is…odd. Not to mention there is the lack of a body.”

“That is strange,” I confirmed. “But who would want to hurt him, and why?”

Gills shook his head and the man suddenly looked weary.

“That I don’t know,” he sighed. “But I have a feeling we don’t want to find out. Believe me when I say the politics of the Radiant Court can be downright viscous.”

“And the God King allows this? Isn’t it his duty to protect the realm?”

Gills is silent for a long moment and I wondered if he would even respond. Finally he bit his lip.

“The God King,” said Gills carefully. “Has much more important things to do than play father to a bunch of spoiled nobility. Will, I know you’re from the country but you should be careful what you say. In front of the wrong people it could be considered…” he trailed off but I got the gist.

“Right,” I said. I’ll keep that in mind.”

I would have to be more careful of what I said around the others. I was growing more comfortable as the camp became familiar but If I slipped up, the consequences could be serious.

That night I lay in my bed roll listening to Draxus snoring. We were to set out tomorrow at first light, and something told me it would be an interesting trip. I brought up my Quest window and read the text.

Quest Completed: Speak with Lord Hadrian Blackthorne

Quest Started: Deliver the Missive to the Count of Basset

I sighed, dropping my head back unto the cloth sack that served as a pillow. Things were getting interesting. My mind slid back to my memories of the dying man and his parting words to me. He had warned me not to tell anyone about the Quests… but how had he known?

The questions swirled around in my mind until I drifted off to sleep and morning came.