1 The Summons

The man waited impatiently at the front gates of the city of Solic.

It had been almost a week since he had been approached in a tavern by a well-dressed man who swiftly stalked away after dropping a folded letter in front of him. It had contained a notice of great opportunity.

A promise of a full pardon of the crimes he had committed. Only if he arrived in front of the capital's gates within a week and heeded the mysterious benefactor's request.

While the reasoning behind his summons had not been fully explained, he could come to a few conclusions. One was that this benefactor could be trying a form of trap though he knew this was unlikely. The king placed a bounty on his head and many had tried various forms of capture, yet none had worked. Another was the benefactor required his service.

While he doubted that this was a trap he still dawned his armour which was made of steel plates that covered the majority of his body, and a layer of chainmail covering his joints. Still allowing swift movement. As swift as an armour of that weight could allow, of course.

A dim shine bounced from his helmet in the moonlight, small slits allowed him to see the landscape around him while he waited.

Small buildings populated the area around him. They were of modest stability. Made of pale stone and wooden supports. Not many people populated the dirty streets at this time of night besides those who couldn't afford homes.

From the darkness of an alley, he spotted an oddity. A man who wore a black cloak was approaching him. He drew his sword from his sheath, a long sword that had been long ago inscribed with archaic runes which had since become a custom for blades. They acted as conduits of magic that all beings possessed.

He raised his sword as a cautionary measure as he doubted this cloaked figure held any true malice toward him and most likely was here as a messenger. His suspicions were confirmed when the man spoke; "Oh please, I mean no harm." The cloaked man said in a voice that sounded raspy and choked, just above a whisper.

The man remained quiet as he lowered his blade, not yet trusting this cloaked messenger enough to sheath it.

The cloaked man seemed to know who he was despite his taciturn nature.

"Well, you're best to follow me if you want to meet the one who has called for your service," The cloaked man said in his silent voice. Slowly retreating into the darkness of the alley.

The man in plated armour then began to follow. Alleys were dark this time of night and quite frankly the Summoned was not willing to stay in complete darkness when this cloaked man couldn't be fully trusted. He had decided to cast a simple spell.

All beings had magic that flowed through them. All could channel this magic and there were three known ways one could summon it and turn it into a spell. The method the Summoned was most fond of was mental casting. This technique was the hardest of the three to master but was also the one with the most utility.

The Summoned then began to concentrate.

To use mental casting one had to imagine the desired result in immaculate detail, its beginning, middle, and end. It was almost like making a story.

The Summoned wanted a small light that would illuminate the area around him, so he began writing his spells' story. This was one that he had cast before so it was quite simple to cast again. He first pictured the magic that circulated in his body, then he imagined a small amount of glowing white magic flowing from his hand into his sword where a small sun would ignite. The white-hot magic forming the miniature sun just above the blade. Then a mere moment after the process was completed a small sun-like object formed. It brightened the alley allowing him to see ahead.

The cloaked man spoke.

"Nice magic!" He paused, "though I already told you. You don't need to be afraid of any lurkers in the dark, heh. We dealt with them already." He finished. This new information barely startled the Summoned. No sane person would go walking about late at night, even if they knew the area. However, this wasn't the fact that startled him it was the confirmation that whoever had called for him held enough power to cull the streets of danger. The Summoned began to question his decision to come here. The game he was dealing into may be one he would come to regret. However, he pushed aside his worries and continued down the alley.

They continued down the alley for some time as his small sun slowly diminished in size. A spell could only last as long as the power that had been imputed. Just as the man considered casting another spell the man in the cloak spoke up, "We're here," he said as stopped at a small door that was inlaid into the wall of a small building.

He wrestled a key from his cloak and opened the door.

The Summoned allowed his magic to dissipate, a small candle was alight within the small living quarters of the home. His attention was then pulled to a small glimmering insignia that was worn by a man in a set of armour, however, this set was one that he would likely never forget. The insignia worn by the most loyal of the king's guard.

He spoke as the cloaked man closed the door from behind. "Finally, the man I was looking for! Osiris the Knight Slayer is the most fearsome bounty hunter in all the land!" He spoke in a gruff voice that echoed around the room.

Osiris had finally confirmed his suspicion. The man who summoned him was the king of Solic. He had suspected this from the start as soon as he had read the letter that had brought him here. The only person who could pardon someone was the king, and now Osiris was here to see what the man he hated most had the gall to request.