“It is good to see you again Tariq, sadly we did not have much chance to chat the last time. Hopefully nothing will disturb our conversation this time around, it is my belief that you have something of importance to relay to me… Otherwise I doubt you would have so easily exposed your organization to such risk.” The Scholar calmly observed the man across from him, he was an incredible specimen for a human. Standing almost a head taller than the champion who easily stood around six feet tall, his chiseled muscles visible even through his fur lined cloak.

Tariq had one hand resting upon the table, the other still wrapped within the sling. He was in no way doing better, the wounds were clearly affecting him, especially the loss of his eye; struggling at times to keep the cup of tea steady. Even so, the man showed incredible backbone, maintaining his composure throughout, as it would not have been easy to get here in such a condition.

“The tea is wonderful Lord, Sir… I’m sorry, I don’t much interact with nobles, never got a proper education. None of us from the slums ever really do.” Surprisingly, the large man was incredibly soft spoken, no bluster or arrogance, a genuinely humble individual. Completely opposite of the impression he gave to those who observed him within the arena earlier in the day.

“No need to worry about formality Tariq, you can call me Cadeyrn. Personally, I prefer to be more informal, but nobles tend to look down on those who are unable to reciprocate their foolish and pointless customs. In either case only with my friends do I allow it, I hope we can be friends, that is what I told myself after your display in the arena today. But we’re not here about that, we’re here about the thing that is so important that you would make an enemy out of ‘the toad’.” Pleasantries aside, it was now time to get down to business. Soon the packing would be completed and the convoy ready to depart, wasting too much time would certainly put them all at extreme risk.

Placing the cup on the table, Tariq leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling contemplating his next move. “We were already enemies with the Lord of Myrmien anyway. It is common knowledge that in the past power was divided between the merchants, the nobles, and the mercenary clans. The location of the city, its access to the sea, and the central location of Syroneika in the Adrite sea made it an ideal area to setup bases of operation. In time the many large mercenary groups formed a guild of sorts, the clans.”

Everything Tariq had mentioned up to this point was common knowledge, the clans held power, but unlike the merchant guilds they were far more of a loose confederation of like-minded groups. They could still take jobs that may put them at odds with their compatriots within the clans, but it did offer some protection from the nobles. Specifically, protection from exploitation, nobles would be contractually obligated under threat of sword to pay their dues.

“This is not common knowledge yet, but someone has been targeting the clans. A few months ago, the Lord started to act arrogant, taking from the clans, antagonizing them. He had never been that bold before and we decided to call a meeting of the clans to decide a course of action to deal with him. The problem is that many of the smaller clans never showed up… those of the larger clans believed that they had betrayed us and sided with the nobles. That was until the bodies began to wash up, most you couldn’t tell, but a few I recognized by the tattoos on their mutilated bodies.” That would have explained Xeander’s brazen behavior, he was already in the process of eliminating the competition. He did not care what the clans thought because he was already going about eliminating them.

“If Xeander is eliminating the competition, why would you volunteer to enter into the arena. What purpose would you have had for the money? Would it not have been preferable to take those important to you and leave?” The Crimson Brands were a good-sized mercenary organization, one which held some weight within Myrmien, it would be natural that such an organization held some wealth. Enough that a few hundred gold talens would not be adequate to risk one’s life for.

“It wasn’t about the money; I was attempting to use the victory as an opportunity to get closer to the Lord. Perhaps find some information on the cause of the disappearances, or maybe put an end to that fat pig myself. Honestly, it was not a very well thought out plan, but things are changing, and the situation is not getting any better.” From his coat Tariq pulled out a small, frayed string, its end decorated with a red wilted flower. “Let me tell you a story, it should help you understand why I do what I do, and why I can’t leave my people behind.”

Tariq like countless other grew up without the warmth of a family, forced to scrounge and scrape on the streets in order to survive. Life was harsh, miserable, and filled with the scorn of those who had abandoned them; the streets were his teacher and the urchins his family. If there was one blessing, he possessed, it was that of a strong body, the ability to work jobs the other street urchins could not.

Back breaking labor, day in and day out, loading and unloading cargo from the many ships which visited the harbor, while being paid what amounted to a pittance. However, with few options, the boy endured, so that he might feed himself and the other children whatever bare stew or soup they might whip together within their broken hovel. All had to be able to pull their weight, trying what little they could to keep themselves warm and fed, yet Myrmien was not the safest place for anyone. Pirates, thugs, bandits, all manner of ruffians walked the streets, and it was only a matter of time before something happened.

There was one person whom the young Tariq held a closer bond to than anyone else, a pretty girl with eyes that stood out in the night. She was a Murzanian, similar to himself, the people of Myrmien simply referred to them as southerners or foreign rats, most simply ignored them, while some rarely showed generosity. But one night the girl caught the eye of the worst type, a member of a local crime family, a ruffian with a taste for children. The girl was taken, violated, and then tossed away like rubbish.

She had been the closest thing to a sister for Tariq, they had grown up together, laughed together, and now she had died alone. It was only when he found her lifeless corpse, dumped in a random alley that he understood the extent of her suffering. A mass of bruises and swollen flesh, tear stained eyes empty and hollow, peering unendingly into the darkness. It was only natural that one would be driven into an unbridled rage following such an event.

Tariq himself stated that at the time he was untrained, often malnourished, there was little chance that a child in such a situation would be capable of murdering an older experienced fighter. The thing about street urchins is that they are everywhere, their eyes and ears reach all corner of the city, for they exist in all corners of the city. It did not take long for the network of children to discover the perpetrator, Tariq did not wait long, catching the man completely unawares. Ambushing him at the brothel, unarmed and unsuspecting.

Even so, the difference in weight and experience was a tough wall for a youth to overcome. Yet in the end the man lay on the ground, his throat torn wide open, gasping for air like a fish out of water. Tariq did not come out unscathed, bruised and bloody he remained in place; unable or unwilling to flee, his revenge fulfilled, yet the emptiness in his heart remaining.

As he finished recounting his tale Tariq released a long-held breath, although he held it in the sadness showed within his eyes. “Well, that’s my story… A common tale among the slum residents. However, these people are my family, and I cannot and will not abandon them. Leaving without everyone is not possible.” The reaction of the hooded escorts on either side of Tariq spoke volumes. During the sad tale the slight shaking of their shoulders spoke of an intimacy that only those experiencing such realities would possess. From these reactions it was simple to understand the kind of person Tariq was, how much loyalty he garnered from his people, and how much trust he placed within them.

“Thank you for sharing such a personal tale, and apologies for my earlier suggestion regarding leaving your people behind. Now before we move on to discussing the plan of escape, I have a question regarding how you managed to escape judgement after achieving your revenge? I doubt an unknown resident of the slums would have any backing to avoid retribution.”

“I didn’t avoid it; I was taken to the gallows. There I was publicly shackled, tied to a board with heavy iron chains, exposed to the elements. I was given neither water nor food, for a week I suffered, my body cannibalizing itself to survive. Giving up and abandoning my family was not an option, thus I struggled, but it was that struggle which attracted the attention of one of the crime families. They saved me, forged me into a weapon and unleashed me upon their enemies. Fifteen years I spent doing things I am not proud of, but I did what I needed to keep my family safe… everything I have built today was thanks to those blood-stained foundations.”

The Scholar put down his cup, sizing up the man in front of him, taking in the many wounds which riddled his body. “What happened to the family which took you in? Do they still hold sway over your actions? Are they the ones directing you and your people?” It was possible that another group was seeking to undermine the ever-growing authority being exercised by Xeander. However, such a group was not one to be trusted, no matter how trustworthy Tariq himself may be.

“No need to worry, there is no power behind me. They are already dead, a consequence of the great conflict five years ago. Their greed was their undoing, they angered and attempted to muscle in on the other family’s territory. That action turned all the others against them, needless to say they were completely wiped out. Following their destruction, I struck out on my own, the fearsome reputation I garnered in that time was fairly useful in ensuring the Brands had plenty willing to hire out our services. It is only our skills, training, and discipline that keeps our enemies at bay, without those we would have long since been eliminated.” With that final thought, Tariq took a sip of tea to calm his nerves.

“Maati, get me a sheet of paper and an envelope…also a quill.” Tariq was curious, the question could be seen in his facial expressions, and yet he managed to hold himself back, so as not to accidentally pry where he wasn’t wanted. “No need to worry Tariq, this is a letter for safe passage. Keep it hidden as I don’t believe that greedy toad will take kindly to finding this upon your person, but you can use it to gain passage through Godar’s Wedge, Temreno’s fortress stronghold which defends the northern approach into our lands. This letter will ensure that you and your people can quickly pass through to the city, without being detained and housed within the border hamlets.” The Scholar slowly poured a bit of wax upon the envelope before applying the official seal of House Amyntas.

Tariq reached over and carefully accepted the envelope, quickly and quietly hiding it away within his cloak. “Thank you, my Lord, I appreciate this. As soon as I can raise the appropriate funds and gather the required resources for the trip, we will make our way there.”

“It’s Cadeyrn, no need to be formal, besides I wouldn’t mind having an extra group of excellent fighters lying around. But anyhow, I believe we have wasted enough time as it is. Let’s get to the task at hand, tell me your plan and what we need to do.” The escorts on both sides straightened up, everyone present realized how important the next part of the conversation was. More importantly, they would need to figure out how to carry it out while informing the least number of people, avoiding any leak of information.