Traveling Merchants

"We shouldn't be doing this!" Lone pleaded. 

Dragan forged ahead, cradling his dark-metal axe with an expression full of anticipation, "Come on, bud! Don't be a puss!"

"Boss Tycon said to wait! And it's only b--"

Lone reflexively stopped, subconsciously shrinking his shoulders facing Dragan's massive frame. The big man had waited for him to catch up.

The big man grinned jovially, "Come on, man. You didn't wanna stick to my plan before! Come on, it'll be fiiiiine!"

"Come on, Lone." Pale pat Lone's back, "It'll be fine. I'll protect you."

Lone averted his gaze, curling his lips. Inwardly, he was thankful that Pale was on his side. But he had remembered that the boy was half his age.

Pale began following after Dragan, while Tarquin Wroe caught up on the side, "It'll probably be fine, Lone."

The angelic boy's hair flowed in the wind. It always seemed to do that, for some reason.

Lone returned a weak smile, "I'm just a bit worried. I always tend to get injured-- with just about everything we do."

Wroe smiled gently, his eyes shut, "As far as injury is concerned, any Invictus member should always have at least one potion on them."

Lone furrowed his brows, "Wait, you guys are getting potions?"

The group stopped.

Dragan frowned, "Well, yeah? Doesn't heal everything, but can save you from bleedin' out. What, did you leave yours back at the house?"

Lone shook his head, "What? No, I was never given a potion!"

Wroe tilted his head, rotating his neck in his typical creepy manner, "Boss Tycon issues potions at the beginning of each mission. This isn't your first mission, though?"

Wroe, Dragan, and Pale looked to each other.

"I've got mine," Wroe had placed the vial filled with red liquid on his belt, beside his sword.

Dragan revealed a small triangular vial that hung from his neck, normally kept hidden by his tunic, "Haven't used mine for a few missions."

Pale dug into his bag and offered a thin red vial, "Here you go, Lone. I never use mine."

Wroe hovered over Pale, "BuuUUuckeTTtt... Don't lie."

Pale shuddered and retracted his hand... but he reached out again, still offering, "I don't use mine... a lot."

Lone closed the boy's hand and pushed it away, "No, I'll be fine, Pale. I'll just be extra careful."

Pale nodded and put the vial back into his pouch.

Lone turned to Dragan, "What's the plan? The mountains look pretty difficult to climb, but I brought some rope and climbing gear."

Dragan smirked, "We charge through the front."

"Being a mountain fortress, there's probably a baaaa--" Lone paused briefly, "I BEG your pardon?"

Dragan lifted his hands up and pointed a finger from either hand sideways, towards the fortress, "We'll assault the fortress from the front."

Lone looked up the steep ramp, lit by large braziers, "But... they'll see us."

"Yep!"

"They have... murder holes they can shoot arrows out of!"

"Uh huh!"

"There are LOCKED DOUBLE DOORS!!"

"Well, that's unfair." Wroe interjected, "They might not be."

"Maybe we can tell them we're traveling salesmen?" Pale offered hopefully.

Dragan pumped his greataxe in the air, "Great idea, Bucket! We'll tell 'em, alright. We're merchants... of DEATH!"

Wroe raised his eyebrows, "How about if I call down a Creature of the Stars upon the fortress! Those that look upon its splendor would toss away their worldly wants and sing in praise!"

"Boss Tycon said not to let you summon anything from the stars..." Pale grimaced.

Even Lone frowned, "I also don't agree. I don't want to be responsible for 200 people crippled by insanity and mind-afflictions."

Dragan tilted his head and placed his hands on his hips, "Tarquin, Tarquin, Tarquin... would you really beat up a crippled person?"

Wroe smiled-- a bit too wide, "How much are you paying me?"

"Nothin'."

"You drive a hard bargain. I'll do it," Wroe showed a clenched fist.

Lone put a palm on Wroe's fist and gently pushed it down, "Nnnoooo..."

Dragan threw his head back in laughter, "Hahaha! Lone! Bucket! Can you BELIEVE how violent this guy is??"

Wroe began yelling back, "YOU'RE one to talk!? I get this from YOU!!"

Dragan looked offended, "Now, now, Mister Wroe. Let's not name any names."

Pale tapped his crimson spear to the ground, making a keen ringing noise and stopping the conversation.

"Let's just follow Mister Dragan's plan," He said, smiling helplessly. 

...

Scout Kiyoshi jogged up the steps to find the Captain. It had only been a few suns since Muto Shun's transfer, but she was a reasonable leader-- a blessing in the cold, western fortress.

Someone had locked the armory, which wasn't an issue-- the door was locked once every two months or so. Someone would have fallen asleep inside or a couple would sneak off, thinking they were clever. The Captain held onto the heavy key.

As one of the more veteran scouts, Kiyoshi would appeal to the Captain to reduce the offender's punishment. Incidents arisen from boredom were common in the Muto western fortress. With nothing to do but train and roll dice, every warrior in the fortress, no matter their age, gender, or role... got a little stupider. 

The fortress was built to be manned by over 100 warriors and was capable of housing 3 or 4 times that amount. In its storied history, the fortress would see thousands of standing warriors and personnel, rotating expeditions into the western reaches as the fortress commander dictated. Over the past several epochs, the number of men and women stationed at the forest was steadily reduced... With their current numbers, Kiyoshi wasn't sure they could actually fend off any attackers, whether it be from the western forests or the demon-barbarians from the north.

Kiyoshi's worry was heightened with the fact that smoke was beginning to billow out from underneath the armory door. Someone might have been burning incense. Or someone may have dropped a lantern and fallen asleep. They were told time and time again to be careful in the armory. There was a quarter-tonze of explosives in there... cast-iron shells filled with Orkish Sugar, a fragrant, highly explosive black powder.

If House Muto used everything in there for demolitions, they could blow a hole in the side of the Icehorn Mountains. 

Kiyoshi opened the door to the planning hall... and found the Scout Captain uncharacteristically asleep, sitting at the central table with her head buried in her arms.

"Captain, there's an issue," He walked over.

The woman remained unmoving. Kiyoshi gulped in nervousness. He'd never had a chance to look upon a sleeping woman before-- not that he was planning on doing anything lewd.

He could understand the Captain catching a quick nap. Adjusting to the cold, stone and wood fortress, he'd suffered more than one sleepless night and fatigue-ridden sun. He gently shook Captain Shun by the shoulder, "Cap'n."

He grabbed her by the shoulders and lifted to sit her straight... but something was off. Sweeping back her shoulder-length hair, he found a crossbow bolt stuck in her neck.

Before he could yell, he felt a hand cover his mouth and hot steel pierce through his back. Straining his neck to look at his attacker, the last thing Kiyoshi saw were golden eyes underneath a dark hood.