Swords. Blood. Family.

[Kyrn]

It had been a long flight from the Hadarac desert to Gil'ead, both Kyrn and Varith where thirsty and they haven't drunken any water since the day after Emily left when the found a small oasis. He should have asked Emily if there was any water nearby but he didn't think of it at the time. Kyrn and Varith were looking down at Gil'ead from a hill that covered them. It was early dawn and the village was just coming alive.

"I smell water nearby." Vairth said to Kyrn.

"Well there IS a town nearby and I'm fairly sure they have water..." Kyrn replied sarcastically

"No idiot...well...yes...but thats not what I'm smelling, there is a nearby pond or something. Listen, so we don't draw attention to our selves, I want you to go into the town alone and go to the pub, have a drink or two, drink water, then find your brother. I will be far, and I might be out of our range for communicating."[/i]

"But what if I need you?"

"Well you said you wanted to get stronger...think of this as a test of sorts."

Kyrn thought about it for a minute. Varith was right. From Kyrn's past experiences he's learned that he grows stronger not from teachers but from acting by instinct. He was trying to use the sword against Velnix like it was just a piece of steel, not like an extension of himself like he had learned.

"Fine then...but hurry, we have no idea whats going to happen in that town."

Varith hopped off of Kyrn and Varith spread his wings and took flight low to the ground so not to be seen. And with Varith went the saddle along with his father's blade. Kyrn didn't want his father's blade there with him, there was already bad blood between him and his brother.

Kyrn donned his brown cloak that was ripped and tattered and threw the hood up. He made his way to the main road entering the town and was able to mingle in with a small crowd of people walking in. There wasn't much talking among the small group. Kyrn didn't mind the silence as he felt Varith move further, and further away; their mental link getting weaker and weaker until he was gone.

When he got to the front gate of the town it still looked like it was ready for war. Guards where posted everywhere. He quickly ducked inside and ditched the small group he came in with. His throat was dry and his voice was hoarse, so he quickly made his way over to the pub.

Stepping inside of the pub he removed his hood. He looked around. The bar was filled with smoke and the smell of stale beer; and all eyes where on him. This was actually the first time he was ever in a bar. Ignoring the looming eyes of everyone there he walked over to the bar and sat down on a stool.

"What'll ya have?" the barkeep asked him.

"Um...lets just start with some water please." Kyrn asked. The barkeep looked at him quizically but could tell that Kyrn was dehydrated.

"Sure thing." he said and left then came back with a mug of water. Kyrn quickly drank the water that was in front of him and savored the liquid as it ran down his throat.

"Now," Kyrn said in a clear voice. "How 'bout and ale?" The bar keep smiled and nodded his head.

With a pint of foamy beer in his hand Kyrn began to survey the bar. Looking around he could see old faces along with some young ones. In the corners and center of the room where some of Galbatorix's soldiers in wearing the red tabard of Galbatorix and chain-mail.

He knew that each of them knew where Mickel was but he didn't want to ask them. As he surveyed the people the door opened up and this finely dressed man walked in, he had short cropped brown hair, and the jaw line that belonged to his father.

This man, Kyrn knew just from a glance, was his brother...

He may have gotten bigger then when he was just a small boy but he knew Mickel's face, even after all of these years. As soon as he entered he threw his hands up and shouted.

"Ello, my brothers in arms! How is the ale this fine day!"

All of the men in the room began to raise there hands and shout in joy; including the civilians there. Kyrn figured that only the gaurds and knights liked him but not the town's people as well. He knew that he needed more information before he could actually confront his brother. Mickel's arms returned to his side and he walked over to a table and sat down with his men.

Kyrn turned to the patron next to him. It was an elderly man with a stern face who didn't look like he had good day.

"Excuse me sir but, well, I'm not from around here...and...uh...who is that man that just walked in?"

The old man looked at him with old eyes. He scratched his beard looking at Mickel then back to Kyrn.

"Aye, that ain't no man.That be a boy no older then eighteen winters. But he is definitely one of the toughest boy's I've ever seen using a blade. He has saved this town many times over from the Varden and urgals, and bandits, and even slavers. We owe him so much and can only pay him back so very little."

The man returned to his drink with a sad look to his eyes. Even though he didn't cheer when Mickel walked in it was obvious that he did respect him.

Kyrn turned and drank some more from his mug...

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"So my young commander how was your last meeting with our grand king?" Garet asked.

Mickel shook his head. "You know I can't talk to you about that Garet. But the only think I can tell you is that there is a new rider out and about."

Garet set down his mug.

"Really?"

"Yes. We don't know his name or much about him but he has a red dragon who is only about six months old." Mickel said in a quite tone. He raised his hand in nodded to the bar maid signaling the usual.

"So, is he with the Varden, or just unaligned?" Bedrith asked. Mickel looked over to the portly soldier.

"At this moment in time no one knows,." Mickel replied.

The young bar maid came over and gave Mickel his beer with a smile. He wasn't interested however due to the fact that he has already had her.

"Well enough of the Red Rider, tell me Mickel...how have you come along trying to win over that black rider? You know the one, Emily?" Garet asked.

Mickel smiled on the outside but on the inside he was scorned. She rejected many of his advances but he wasn't about to give up that easy.

"Do not fret Garet, I will make her mine eventually." Mickel said with a smile and he downed his beer quickly.

As he signaled for another glass, he noticed a man sitting at the bar with a cloak on and unkempt light brown hair.

"Who is that man?" Mickel asked the men at his table.

"That be...uh...hmm I'm not quite sure my lord." Pokley asked. Pokley was dumb and ugly with a face not even his mother can love but he was loyal to Galbatorix and Mickel.

"Well, I'll find out." Mickel said standing up.

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Kyrn sat quietly listening in to the conversation that Mickel was having with the men at the table. It was hard to hear buthe was able to make out some words. Mainly when Mickel was asked about Emily. I guess she wasn't lying. He said to him self.

He was startled when a hand touched his shoulder, and he almost spilled his beer.

"Hello good sir, I'm just doing my part as captain in the town and was just wondering,

who.
are.
you?"

Kyrn looked with the corner of his eye and was hoping that Mickel would not notice the family resemblance. As to what Kyrn replied,

"Just passing through." technically it wasn't a lie.

"Where are you from?" Mickel asked.

"Daret." Kyrn replied.

Mickel was shocked and then smiled.

"Its good to see another man from Daret! Give this man another beer on me."

The barkeep nodded and Mickel sat down next to him, just like Kyrn had hoped not. Mickel leaned forward a bit onto the bar counter.

"If you don't mind me saying, you look rather familiar." Mickel asked.

"I guess have that face."

"No...thats not it."

Kyrn looked over toward him.

"What do you-" Kyrn was cut off by a quick sweep of Mickel's arm and hit Kyrn right under the throat. Kyrn was sent backwards off of his stool and onto the hard wood floor. The other men jumped on top of him and held him down and Kyrn had some trouble breathing.

"You are my brother, you are the man who killed my family, and you are the man who will hang for the killing of a duke of Belatona.

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[Drästysu]

Drästysu cursed the Varden passionately for sending him here, of all places. He was an Elf, not a human. There were numerous human spies within the Varden, greater trained in subterfuge than he. Yet, here he was, in the heart of the Empire wearing a black cloak to hide his accentuated features from the inhabitants of this unsanitary, mess of a city.

He cut through alleyways with a brisk pace, trying to get around quickly without drawing unnecessary attention. The last thing he needed was having to fight his way out of this stronghold. It would be a near impossible task, and would only serve to make things harder for future Varden infiltrators. Besides, he wasn't expected to actually find anything important anyway. Numerous Varden agents operated in Gil'ead regularly, and few if any ever managed to get an interesting tidbit.

As S'il moved into a two-way from a dark alley, he recognized two priests leading a half dozen or so prisoners, each chained by their wrists and ankles to each other. A third priest maintained the rear, ensuring the captives didn't try anything reckless. Slavery disgusted him, and it took an unprecedented amount of willpower to force every fiber of his being back into the shadows the shacks lining the alleyway provided.

As the priest maintained the flank passed by, he swung out from the shadows, wrapped his arm around the neck of the mutilated "man" and used his remaining hand to twist his head, effectively snapping his spine. He couldn't use magic, for that could potentially warn too many in Gil'ead, and currently, he was doing his best to hide from the numerous denizens that could potentially identify him. Even these perverse priests could recognize the presence of magic. They fed on its potency, and supposedly could manipulate the energies themselves.

As S'il quietly pulled the cloaked body back into the seclusion of the alley, he made his way next to the slaves, some of which had seen the entire ordeal. He put a finger over his lips, a silent way to hush them. They understood immediately as his sword exited from the inside of his cloak, leaving the sheath on his hip that the dark fabric wrapped around him hid so well. Azul, as he had named the blue blade, shimmered in the moonlight. He spun it in his hand, so fast that it cut through the wind, making a whoosh-ing sound.

Faster than the slaves could see, he rushed over and sliced both of the priests in half. It took a moment before the slaves identified what had happened. When they did, they began praising him, almost forgetting that they were still known slaves, bound in chains in the middle of the most evil city in all the land. He spoke softly to them.

"Gentlemen, I am Drästysu S'ilæphos, elf rider of the Varden. Our time together will be short and sweet. I will escort the lot of you out of this city, and no further. Just act as you have been, and you shall have your freedom once again shortly." He noticed their eyes light up and weak smiles form on their faces. They were people, just like anyone else, entirely undeserving of the fates these twisted church-types were going to inflict upon them.

They watched intently as S'il placed his word back within its concealed location in his cloak which covered him entirely. They also watched with a keen curiosity as he slid his left arm back into the cloak, letting the sleeve dangle their nonchalantly. These Priests of Helgrind were often missing limbs and other appendages, severing them in a gamble to become closer with the "spirit world".

Upon successfully ensuring his "missing" arm was truly out of sight, he grabbed their chain with his right hand and began marching them out the path they were originally going. The south-east gates served as the entry way of choice for the demented cultists. Their journey to them was stealthily efficient, being seen by no one other than the guards stationed at the south-east checkpoint. The slaves and S'il passed through without any quarrel, just as he had expected.

He made his way south to where Kail was present. The large blue dragon was a good distance away, far away from the densely trafficked paths that extended from city-to-city. As he arrived there though, his keen Elf eyes recognized a large creature landing upon the ground a good distance from their own location. Curiosity overwhelmed S'il, the consideration of the flying creature being another dragon with its rider would be great information to report back to the Varden encampment.

He spoke out loud to Kail so the slaves could hear, "I will take you from your bonds. This is Kail, my dragon. He will safeguard you until I return. Do not leave his presence, or it may very well be the end of your life or if you're lucky, a return to the eternal bond of enslavement."

He reached out with his magic to remove the chain buckles around their wrists and ankles. The light use of magic took no evident toll on the Elf Rider at all. He quickly added to Kail before departing. "Did you notice that shape landing upon the ground? That may have been the latest dragon rider rumored to be around."

Kail blew smoke from his nostrils before responding, "Be careful, S'il. Little of this rider is known, including that of his allegiance."

The warning delivered, nothing more was said as Drästysu's momentum allowed him to cover the distance quickly. Halfway between that of Kail and the unknown creature, he saw it once more rise up into the air. It was a dragon for sure. Why had it just landed and departed in such a short sequence? He continued his journey, deciding to investigate the general area intently with the goal of finding some type of clue.

Instead, when he arrived, he saw an equally as covered individual making their way to Gil'ead. S'il followed, ensuring to maintain a safe distance between the two. He watched as the Rider slipped into a random group, obviously to sneak in more effectively.

So he's no friend of the Empire, clearly... S'il sped up, making his way into the back of the group so he too could sneak in with the enigmatic Rider. When they made it through the gate, he watched as his prey made their way into the nearby pub. He followed suit, however he took a seat at a table in a corner near the entrance. He watched the Rider at the bar. Using his enhanced Elf senses, he eavesdropped for the entire discourse between the bartender and the Rider. First, he ordered a water. At first, S'il thought he may be pure, potentially an Elf like he? He discredited that consideration after the man downed the water and ordered an ale. He was dehydrated.

Poor man, he should know that alcohol isn't going to help with his thirst quenching. It had traits that caused it to dehydrate further. Suddenly, the door was opened, and a guardsman, clearly an officer, made a theatric entrance. The entire tavern went into a uproar in response to the man's greeting. The officer was loud too as he entered, which was especially foolish as he was talking about King Galbatorix. S'il could not help but pity the quality of Imperial soldiers.

Suddenly, he noticed the annoying officer point at the Rider. Anxiety flooded S'il as he knew something big was going to occur. Following an exchanging of words with an obviously dim-witted subordinate, the officer made his way next to the Rider. They spoke briefly, when suddenly the Rider turned to the officer who immediately struck out upon the cloaked man's face, effectively sending him sprawling to the floor.

The soldiers acted quickly too, hastily pinning the victim of the officer to the ground before he could even react. S'il continued to sit there, fiddling with a book he often carried on-person. He would keep the Rider in his sights and figure out what exactly was going on further. Despite his outward seemingly disinterested appearance, intrigue flooded his entire being.

[Kyrn]

((Ooc: Um we are in Gil'ead not Dras' Leona lol, it shouldn't be that big a deal though.))

"Mickel why have your memories become so clouded like this!" Kyrn began to yell out as the gaurds pinned him down. "How could I have killed our mother and father! The slaver Velnix is the one who cut down father while trying to defend you!"

Mickel couldn't stand for these accusations. He rushed over and kicked Kyrn in the side causing Kyrn's breath to escape his lungs.

"Well of course they did you idiot! I knew that! The images of that night still haunt my dreams! But it was you who told them where we where! You're the one to blame. Right before we left Daret, Velnix came into town and he asked YOU where we are going. YOU told him to Gil'ead but we are STOPPING for the night!"

Kyrn couldn't believe what he was hearing. He had no memory of Velnix ever coming into Daret and asking him anything. He tried as hard as he could but nothing.

"Mickel." Kyrn coughed as he began to speak. "What happened to you that could make you change so?" Mickel smiled.

"Isn't it obvious. Being sold into slavery opened up my eyes to what the world truly is. It is world filled with blood and power. Galbatorix taught me that him self."

"So what Emily told me was the truth..." Kyrn said softley. Hearing Emily's name spoken by his brother enraged Mickel he stomped over to him and grabbed his hair lifting him up. The gaurds still held tight but let him go slightley so Mickel could stand up.

"Dont you ever say her name!" Mickel gave a swift but heavy blow to his brothers head knocking him to the ground and unconscious. Mickel stood up and the guards released Kyrn. Mickel looked over to the patron who was sitting in the corner of the room. He smiled and tipped his head towards him.

"You two, pick him up and accompany me to he holding cells, he will hang at sunset."

The two guards picked up Kyrns limp body and followed Mickel out. They walked through the town and to the garrison and stuck Kyrn in a holding cell.

"Sir," one guard said to Mickel. "Do you want to go back to the pub?" Mickel shook his head,

"No, Im going to stay here and make the preparations."

"Uh, sir? Are you sure you want to do this? I mean he is your....brother...after all?"

Mickel hung his head. "I know, but my brother signed his life away when he killed a duke at Belatona. "

"Is that the only reason sir?" The other guard asked.

"No...but its the only one you'll know." He smiled and walked away into his room away from the holding cells and changed into his dark armor and attached his great sword across his back. Today would either be a dark day or the best day of Mickel's life...

He wasn't sure which...