The Third Party

Old man Querris sat high on his steed, his gaze distant, attracted by the horizon of ruin, dust and smoke. Korla was on all four a little behind his lord. The only sounds that kicked away the silence they travelled along was the clatter of hooves on the gravel. As they did, Querris could not help himself but steal glances at the creature whilst he had his mind lingering around the moments of their previous contention.

Since the evening of the confrontation between them they had not really exchanged words and Korla could have appreciated the two days off of certain duty. But this time for as bitter as it was, he did not.

Querris also wondered if should they ever put their differences aside and face the catastrophe waiting impatiently for anyone's attention. And for Korla, watching the fleeing crowd put his little mind apart from that. But when he sensed the jab of Querris stealing peeks, he turned to him and his eye pupils bulge slightly. After a few seconds locking on, both stares fall away returning to the road ahead and the silence carries on.

"Any luck?"

Somewhere beyond the outskirts of New Coralton the evacuatees gathered all they have got left and joined a refugee camp that was slowly taking place. There were tents and shacks popping out everywhere. Food and medical supplies were being handed over to the people by a team of emergency response.

"Nothing Commander." A man no more than thirty years old responded to Sianna. The refugee camp was being organised by her. With experience to disaster management, the commander had sprung into action showing compassion and working tirelessly with her team. Hours it took for the displaced residents to register their ages and names as well as their last address in the town. The whole thing was lengthy but she knew its importance. Her personal interests did not differ from this.

One of Sianna's men who was standing before her desk, shook his head. "There's been leads but just as the team trails that, it turns out to be a dead end."

She paused for a moment and leaned forward.

"And how is the rescue team going? I mean the search party scavenging through the mess."

"They made their latest update minutes ago but the news were dry. Not a person had been rescued. I believe the profile system is doing great listing the names down -"

"Then if she was here she would've been found by now! Don't you think so Ranzo?" The chair scraped the floor as she suddenly jumped from her seat, slamming her hands on the desk. The messenger took a step back, his eyes widening.

"I...I don't know, Commander."

Realising her mistake, she eased her impulse and lowered herself back into the seat. Her position as Commander meant she should hold her composure and not let her personal issues get the best of her. She began to shuffle through some papers in a pretence to be dealing with paperwork.

"Keep searching. Update me on the regular." Her voice was now controlled and calm but firm with authority. "I want every stone turned over. You are dismissed."

Ranzo stuttered "Affirmative" and exited the back of the truck serving as her office. When she felt that nobody was nearby, she stopped and gave a facepalm and a long sigh. In front of her was a glass of oaked wine, which she grabbed and slowly revolved.

'Nine has done his part,' her mind began to race with thoughts.

'the brethren influence has fallen, but now the state remains in even more threat than the time of their rule.'

That was true from either way she looked at it. When speaking about her division's motives, crushing all internal threat posing trouble in Cape Amberes, that was something to take to the grave. A strict protocol. Somehow the very same motives that drove the brethren influence into power was their very fall. Despite that, the country had always been rotten with corruption and everything beautifully wrong.

From the brethren influence's plot to hinder the government and in turn take the wheel, that only happened for a little while.

-'Ptsah. Ruling in favour of truth nor corruption? Oh please, just what sort of moron are you Nine?' She softly chuckled before another woman entered and flapped some files in hand. Sianna pointed them to be placed on her desk then waved her away. And when the doors closed behind the lady, the Commander stepped past her station taking a look at one file.

'Wherever he is I bet that fool is skinning himself down, mourning the loss of the friend he killed by himself. If such creature shows remorse anyway.

Perhaps bidding the death of his brother was cruel of me? Well, it was either he eliminated him or both of them get erased off the picture...'

Sianna held a plastic sleeve with a document inside it up to her face. The lamp hung down the close roof of the truck, setting a warm light and projected the texts printed onto the page. And in those words now dancing on her face one line read, "Joulene Feustin."

She giggled softly.

"Nine... I deck my cards... The game is on..."

• • • • •

The journey Korla and his master had taken had been tiresome. Now that they had reached the refugee camp everybody else had been dreading, a thirst that couldn't be ignored for long bothered them.

The old man leapt down his horse and pulled it along into the crowd.

"You haven't got much time, you ferret." He spoke behind his teeth. "Hurry up or you'll have us revealed."

"Yes yes yes lord Querris." Responded a young girl of about eight years old who was by the time mounted on the horse. She had two untidy hair buns sticking out either side of her head. Pink cheeks, bulbous eyes - one emerald the other sapphire - and wore a floral dress.

Together they moved through the sea of dirty heads. Some did not even bother themselves to make way for them, whilst some followed with creepy, swollen stares. Querris pulled down a cloth over his head and tightened his grip on the reins. Korla sat on the horse scanning over the bunch of heads, the tents, the shacks and back to the sombre faces.

With a hint of mischief etched on his smile, the troll that had transformed to a girl gave a reassuring nod at Querris, who hawkishly eyed the surrounding area. And as they moved deeper into the camp, the smells grew more concentrated. And to when they had reached the edge of the crowd, a group of soldiers looked at them warily.

"Refugees, seeking shelter." With a smile that was meant to be convincing, the old man smirked.

"Back of the line bloke!" One of the soldiers shouted.

"I'm sorry but my daughter and I have been traveling for days. We're exhausted. All we ask of you is -"

"I said back of the line! What, looking to kick a bucket around here somewhere?" The soldier mocked and spat out, earning a serious glance from Querris.

"Watch your tone." He whispered. "Come on, Korla, back of the line we go."

And like that, as he turned back, he left behind an eerie presence that left the soldiers uncertain. They exchanged skeptic looks but after a couple of moments returned to their tasks as the rude soldier kept shouting at everyone.

Leaving behind the commotion, the old man and his supposed daughter walked to the very back of the line. The eight year old noticed the sly glee reflected off the mad man's face and so shot him a warning glance. Querris ignored her as he expertly led them towards a tent nearby.

"Uhhh..." The creature felt the urge to stop the man's plot, however he was more afraid questioning his master more than he was nervous.

From his jacket the old man returned a hand with flint, which he struck after taking one last careful eye around the surrounding area. His own escorted by the creature's. Sparks flew to the ground and from that a small flame flickered to life.

"It is getting cold. That's all." As though Korla was awaiting a response, Querris said unto him. With a stylish yet devious sway and turn his dark cloack was flowing with his movements. And from that the sparks are blown to grow.

The little girl's eyes widened like she was seeing a fairy for the first time as the glimmer in her contrasting eyes lit up. Earning a cunning look from his only lord.

The soldiers laughed and chatted whereas the fire started to crackle. They were completely oblivious about the well-timed diversion that was slowly but surely taking to strength.