Kiaan, son of Kiaan

Kiaan lay flat with the raiders from Nassau, watching the couple on the beach. Chief Sebastian had them on territory defense and civilian capture, and Kiaan was their civilian scout. He was, in fact, the only proper scout Nassau had, and his lucrative contract reflected that. But he didn't much like his employers.

"Tier one," he whispered to Chang, the raid leader. "Hybrid class. And he's killed players."

"Tier one?" Chang said, obvious surprise in his voice. Kiaan said nothing because he made it a rule never to repeat himself, and the raid leader took a breath. The raiders were all tier three, save their chief, but even he was only tier two. At this point in the Great Game, however, the power levels didn't seem to matter much. Since they were all reasonably close, the old advantages of war remained…numbers, surprise, and initiative. This guy was alone. And the raiders had the first strike.

"Civilian is a white collar," said Kiaan, using the agreed upon language to describe civilian function.

"Who gives a fuck what she is, look at her," said another of the raiders, and Kiaan supposed he couldn't disagree. The girl looked like a European swimsuit model. Her long, blonde hair tumbled down her back, her slim figure curved in all the right places. Chief Sebastian would claim her. They all knew that. But if he did at least it might keep the man pacified enough the others could start getting their own women. And it was a long way back to Nassau…

"You should take him now," Kiaan advised. "The longer you delay, the more risk of being detected."

The unsuspecting couple looked like they were preparing for a swim. The player had moved behind a pile of rocks to disrobe, but the girl stayed in the open.

"Wait." Chang's smile reached his ears. "Let's let them swim a little. He'll leave his weapons."

Kiaan frowned because he knew that was not why Chang delayed. But it wasn't his neck at risk, which is why he had chosen his class from the beginning. It made little difference to Kiaan, son of Kiaan, who he served. Long ago his family had served Indian royalty, then British aristocrats, then the Indian government. It had been so for hundreds and perhaps thousands of years—for as long as the family remembered. They lived very well serving rich and powerful men, and this new world would be no different.

"As you say, raid leader," he said without tone. Then because he was a man, and not a fool, he too watched the beautiful girl disrobe.

"Jesus Christ, look at the tits on her," said their archer and youngest raider.

Kiaan admired them, but then blinked and looked at the player. The young man had disrobed as well, and his body was scarred and covered in lean muscle. He moved like a panther, the smile on his face the pleasant mask of a careful predator. Kiaan felt a chill rise in his spine. He began to wonder if all these men were going to die.

Foolish orders, he thought, and not for the first time. Stupid. Wasteful. To attack and kill any player they find when they might instead be recruiting. Weak. Short sighted. This man should be their ally!

He frowned as the girl turned and bent over towards the woods, peeling down her undergarments as the men groaned and stared with wide, disbelieving eyes.

"Oh my God. Yeah, baby, give us a show."

Naked now, the girl swung her hair and tip toed her way through the sand, giggling as she reached the water. Then she dove in and rose out instantly, squealing and whining about the cold as she emerged wet and facing the trees, incredible breasts dripping and bouncing with every step.

"Where is the player," Kiaan blinked again and hissed, knowing already in his bones the answer.

"Eh? He was by the rocks there," Chang dismissed.

"Do you see him?" Kiaan said more urgently.

"No, but he was literally just right there." Chang finally looked away and scanned. "He's probably just in the water already, diving down or whateve…"

An arrow struck Chang in the back of the skull with the force of a bullet. His head smashed forward, the arrow bursting out his mouth with a spray of blood as he jerked and retched before he died.

The other raiders cried out in alarm, scrambling in their panic. Kiaan just sat up, turning to observe their attacker as he crossed his legs.

The young man looked even more like a warrior up close. He'd left his clothes behind, carrying only a modern, compound bow, which he now drew with arrows appearing out of nowhere. He loosed in silence at the other raiders before turning and sprinting at inhuman speed into the trees.

Kiaan knew then they were all dead. The girl had been a beautifully executed distraction. This meant the player had known they were in the trees long before, and decided to deal with them. Had he seen them with some kind of perception power? Guessed? Something else?

"Get him!" called their remaining melee player. "I'll cut him off!"

Kiaan practically laughed out loud. Foolish to announce your plan. And anyway, they had no chance of doing it. Still, the raider drew his deadly scimitar and went to execute, then cried out almost immediately as some kind of metal device snapped around his foot.

"There's traps!" he cried out in agony, bending down to pry himself out. An arrow struck his thigh. He twisted up with a groan before another struck his gut, and he fell, writhing in agony.

Mikkel, their deadly caster, finally finished his spell. Kiaan knew he could only cast this twice a day with his mana, but he had never seen a target survive. Flaming orbs launched in rapid succession, seeking the stranger with ruthless speed and accuracy. Kiaan watched, truly fascinated, wondering if the usually deadly attack would work. It was the raider's only chance.

The player didn't try to dodge. Instead he turned and launched arrows back at Mikkel as the orbs flew at him. The flames burst and splashed all around, lighting trees and the grass at his feet. Others hit him directly. When the light and smoke died down enough to see, Kiaan saw several charred patches covered the man's skin, and bits of his hair had been burnt away. Mikkel was lying on the ground filled with arrows.

The young archer raider dropped to his knees not far from Kiaan. He was shaking in agony, voice tight, and there was already an arrow lodged in his bow hand. Apparently the stranger had disabled him first.

"Please don't kill me," he said, voice cracking. "I was only following orders. We have a settlement. You could join us!"

The stranger put away his bow as he approached, having not yet uttered a word. A long, green-steel blade appeared out of nothing just like his arrows, and he looked at Kiaan.

"You're a civilian."

"I am," Kiaan agreed.

"Does this man know anything you don't?"

The young man stared at Kiaan's face with wide, begging eyes. Kiaan had never liked the man much—he liked very few people—though that wouldn't have affected his decision. He had already decided he would rather work for this stranger, who was obviously more cunning and dangerous than Chief Sebastian in every way.

"No," he said. And without a moment's hesitation, the green blade flashed like lightning, and the young raider's head fell from his shoulders.

"They were fools to attack you," said Kiaan casually, because it was true.

The player knelt down and inspected the dead men's belongings.

"I have questions," he said. "Answer them, and I'll forget you were here."

Kiaan nodded, disappointed at the words. Better to dissolve his previous contract, he'd decided, and forge a new one with this man. He had only chosen Sebastian because he was a killer. But there was always someone better, harder—a greater killer. Kiaan was happy to let such men kill each other, with him always standing aside, apart, protected and safe. Because killers always had use for men like him.

"Please ask," he said honestly, "and I will answer."