Easol was staring at the tall ugly black walls of the human shithole called Lotsorn. The trip had been longer then she wanted to think about. She rued the fact that though she loved to travel, she was just as bound by the homeward longing as the rest of her people. The more days slept away from home, the further from home one got, the more irritated she became; the longing robbing from her even the joy of travel. Many People of the World dreamed of long journeys and faraway places, only to find the same heart wrenching pain she was feeling just a fortnight away from their birthplace. The truth of the matter was, People of the World are tied to the land they’re born on, one with the land, as the land was one with them.

She was riding a Flur’a’gah. A creature, which to someone from Earth would look much like an Owl, if an Owl came in a lime green color, was 6’ tall, furred not feathered, and had a noticeably elongated neck, and claws which appeared to be dripping poison, on feet that looked suspiciously reptilian. There was no beak on the face, and a sharp toothed almost dragon style mouth. The reason it looked owl like and not dragon like was because of the lack of a tail, all that fur, and the eyes which instead of being on the front of the head were on the top of the head. As a result of the eye placement, for people who had not seen this creature feed, it would appear as if it was an owl without a beak, and no mouth. However, when it was time to feed its head would tilt back, and the shape of its face would change to be quite horrifying. The Flur’a’gah were preferred mounts for the People of the World from the northern free city of Ghanarai. Being an insular nocturnal people, a very territorial people, most cities sported different modes of transport.

Easol herself was dressed like a shadow on the back of her Flur’a’gah. Black on black, a hood covering her teal hair. All the People of the World in Ghanarai had teal hair, and eyes ranging from black to grey to blue to green. Her own eyes were a deep, dark blue, which many found rather attractive, much to her irritation. She was wearing ‘mourning’ clothing, as she had every day since her baptism. She knew the cloths alone angered her parents more then was reasonable. Her people were known for wearing bright natural colors, many refused to wear mourning clothing even when a parent had died. It was off-putting, and she found since she started wearing them, people would avoid talking to her. Which was exactly what she was aiming for. Her mouth twisted in irritation at fate for pushing this lifestyle on to her against her will. It was all because of that baptism.

When the People of the World are born they’re born without a gender or even external sexual organs. Growing up, children are free to pursuit anything that interests them naturally. For Easol, it was the Sword. She was easily the most athletic, active and adventurous of the children her age. She was a tremendous swordsman, and her parents doted on her as a potential future blade master. She had a number of memorable mock battles again Kalog, another child her same age, who was nowhere near as talented as she was, but infinitely more arrogant. They quarreled over everything. From who ran faster to who could climb a tree higher, to who could tame a Flur’a’gah better. She beat him in everything except for arrogance. She was a natural with a blade, good with tactics, a quick read, and even showed some promise in magic theory, with a great deal of potential to be a seer like her mother. However, she had no interest in that lifestyle. For Easol it was adventure and war she craved.

The baptism is a ritual all People of the World go through when they turn 14. At that age, the children generally had started to show inclinations toward one sex or another. The baptism was a weeklong event in which the children would metamorphosize into a sex, chosen by fate. Fate always loved the People of the World. And as a result Fate never seemed to choose a sex which would make the child upset or disappointed. Their sex would be determined largely by the children’s own heart. Occasionally, depending on the needs of their people, fate would intervene and chose a sex against the wishes of the children. In times of war men were often more likely to emerge then women. In times of peace, from time to time, fate would tweak the balance of men and women to keep populations reasonable and sustainable.

When it was Easol’s turn for baptism, she was certain to be a male. A new blademaster, who’s name would become renown among her people, perhaps among those of the world. She even found women attractive and deep in her heart wanted a wife or three. Kelog had went through his baptism months prior, and to no one’s surprise had emerged a male. No one in the community believed she would emerge as anything but male. So when she woke from her baptism she wasn’t greeted by happy faces but faces of confusion, which then transformed into forced or shocked smiles. It took Easol a few moments to understand those confused then forced smiles. She had not become a male.

No one understood the purpose for this choice of fate. Easol was a prodigy with the sword. Furthermore, had a great desire to be a male. It was rare for fate to stomp on the desires of the people like this. There were no wars for fate to disprove of, nor need for more children, and though Easol had some skill as a seer, there was no lack of good seers or replacements in the wing. Easol had gone from a person with a future, to one who saw her future burst into flames.

Her parents adapted faster than anyone. Likely a sign of their love for her. However, they focused too much on their own guilt at their disappointment, so went overboard with their forced ‘joy’ at her tragedy. Easol might have been young but one thing she did not want was pity, and the happier her parents became the more upset Easol became. The final blow however was when her parents agreed to engage her to her rival growing up, Kalog. Kalog was more a foe then a friend. Worse she still could kick his ass, and he would get to become a soldier, while that path was forever banned from her.

So she put on black mourning clothing. She had tried to wear men’s clothing and sneak away with a mercenary company. Her father had tracked her down and beat her half to death. Her mother didn’t stop her father. And when she had recovered her mother started punishing her as well. All her boyish clothing and items were destroyed, her weapons taken, she was forced into dresses, and forced to choose a future for herself, that was not a swordsman. She had seer chosen for her by her mother.

The people of the world were favored by fate and chained to tradition. As a result, while her people had no real issues with people loving others of the same sex, or identifying with the opposite sex, they still played the roles of their life faithfully lest they lose that favor from fate. Once Humanity was favored by fate and the gods, the elders would drone on about. Their current state was the result of scorning the will of both. So she put on black. Everything was black. It was female clothing. She studied her new path as a seer, and diligently applied herself as one. She no longer climbed trees, snuck out, got in foot races or carried a sword. She soon established herself as a minor prodigy as a seer, which of course only confirmed in the hearts of all those who knew her, that fate had in fact chosen her sex correctly.

Easol, however, never could accept it. So she grieved in her heart. And sneered at the world. She put on black and almost gelded her would be husband when the marriage was pushed, ending the marriage talk, but earning her parent’s enmity. Her mother sent her to this backwater human slum as a type of punishment. The self-styled King Herath d’Khan offered a huge bounty of fish, leather products and other crafts goods in exchange for a seer's services once a year. Easol had been here several times in the past 3 years. Lotsorn was one of the closest city states to Ghanarai, and the d’Khan family had been employing the skills of seers from Ghanarai for over a thousand years.

Finally, with the journey nearly at an end, and the irritation of the homeward longing deeply set in, she was if not quiet eager, certainly in a hurry to grant the pig his readings, and head home.

King Herath paced back and forth in his throne room. The throne room was a left over from the old grey king. It was huge, likely large enough to allow a full grown dragon to rest in. The throne was garish, and much more new then the rest of the room. He was nervous. No one was present with him except the guards posted at different entrances. He didn’t want to the heads of the families or their various sycophants see his nervous fretting. His wife’s sister’s son had turned up dead less than a week ago. Skinned, and hung from the wall of a building in the foreigner quarter by the Red Tiller.

He had no real interest in the fate of the worthless boy. He was just like half the young princelings in this city, worthless. This one however was especially worthless. Just a few weeks ago he had suddenly declared he was taking his guard and leaving the family, in the name of Elis the Sun God. Of course he had laughed just like everyone else. The boy stuck his dick in everything. It was all they could do to keep him from fucking the male slaves in public, they could do nothing with him. He was driven by his dick, like a lot of the free men were. Like he was at times. Still, the idea the little nephew who at age 8 was caught fucking a young Harkan was a “chosen” of Elis, a god which never once said a single word to humanity since the death of the Grey King was absurd. Even the pervert’s dotting mother laughed.

When he turned up dead next to a brothel the King had naturally dismissed it as a tragic end for a worthless prince, a predicable end though. He even darkly wondered if he could get away with awarding the man who killed the worthless sack of flesh just for ridding his family of another useless mouth.

What changed his mind on this topic was the state of the body and the bloody sign none of the channelers in his family's employ could figure out how to take down. When he had heard the killer left a message he grew concerned the killer was targeting his throne. But when the message was read to him he couldn’t help but wonder at exactly what happened. The message was pure provocation toward Elis. Furthermore, the killer named himself. The witnesses all agreed on how the man looked. He even stayed in the Red Tiller the prior evening so they had confirmation on the name. The fact they found enough blood on the street to dye the harbor red and enough equipment to indicate that blood once belonged to the 70 or so guardsmen his idiot nephew had in his guard, only underlined the seriousness of the situation.

The reports of the murderer Jace terrified him. He sounded like a God out of the stories. Apparently he was a human male taller than a Fairy lord, weighting perhaps 3 sacks. He had a missing leg, and some grey devices he used to get around with. He had enslaved a Kindred woman. One from a fire dragon tribe. That bit of information everyone agreed with as impossible as it was to believe. And he was, impossible as it was to believe, a Grand Wizard.

A man with no grey in his hair had reached the level of grand wizard.

An angry grand wizard was in his city.

He was so scared he didn’t know if he should even look for him. He was worried looking for him would be seen as a provocation. Humanity only had one Grand Wizard in his lifetime. That was Eldridge. Eldridge was a monster you couldn’t reason with. He had nearly bankrupted the d’Khan family over the years demanding tribute for some magic project to cure the curse. He didn’t even want to cure the curse. Why should he? Currently his power was mostly based on the existence of the curse. If the curse ended his family would be ruined. Still, despite his reluctance, Eldridge gave him no choice in the matter. So he sent nearly every last Tal his family had to fund that project.

Thinking of that hardship he couldn’t help but shudder. Now the world had another Grand Wizard.

He couldn’t help but wish the Fairy seer which should be arriving soon due to the annual agreement with Ghanarai would hurry to get here. He didn’t want to be blind for much longer.

“King Herath.” Easol stood before the monstrous throne. Every fiber of her being wishing to be away as quickly as possible.

“Seer…? Oh right, you’re the daughter Easol. I saw you the last couple of years with your mother. Are you now a full seer?” The king irritated Easol by trying to make small talk as if buying time. Which was strange as according to her mother, he typically would ask the same questions every year “Will I hold on to the throne this year? Who in my family will die this year? What is the best way to become richer this year?” He usually would reserve the next question for “Will someone try to kill me this year?” and the last for the follow-up to any answer he thought created more questions. This year he apparently had a few more important questions on his mind.

“Yes, I am doing this job full time now, No longer in training. Now what are your questions?”

“Will someone try to kill me this year?” He quickly spat out the first question on his mind.

With something to work with she closed her eyes and worked a melded magic unique to a fairy seer. She could feel the lines of fate tangled around the old bastard, and quickly worked through them looking for any impending danger. She paused as the answer surprised her. She studied the lines of fate again and felt the will of fate. She was perplexed. Clearly the path of this old bastard’s life was supposed to take was dying in bed at the age of 60, in another 10 years. However, she could clearly see a death to the old man, very soon. Fate had no plans for this. But it seemed it might happen shortly. More shocking then that she saw herself in the same image. Both images implied they both were to die tonight. Both images implied one more thing too.

“Yes, I can see your death. It will be here in this room. In the next few hours. Perhaps? I see my own image in your vision. Dead next to you.” The old king started to try to say something “However. This is not fate’s desire. Something is breaking fate to make this occur. So my vision of this event is clouded. However, I don’t think our deaths are guaranteed. Something may change that fate yet.”

The old king was looking at her dumbstruck, then he rapidly spoke. “Who is the killer?”

She thought this the natural follow-up question so she intentionally left that answer out of her first answer. “A human and a kindred. A man and a woman. The human male is known as Jace, the Kindred Female known as Nana.” She paused frowning. “I think the human male might be a swordsman, and of course the kindred is a kindred.”

The king jumped at that. “Swordsman? Impossible! This Jace is one legged. Have you ever heard of a one-legged swordsman?”

She prevented herself from smiling. Though the image said she would die, she already knew the path to safety, there were several, so she was no longer concerned about the vision. What she was concerned about was fleecing the old king. Her mother told her to make him ask one pointless question, and he just did it by himself.

“I have never heard of a one-legged swordsman your majesty. But swordsman he is. Fore he chops your head off right there.” The pointed to a spot on the floor not far from where the king was standing.

“Impossible. Simply impossible. Even I could kill a one-legged swordsman. Tell me, does this Jace have one leg or two?”

She almost laughed and then said lightly. “Old King, he has two in the vision not one.”

“Then he is not the arch wizard Jace who killed my nephew? There are two Jace’s?”

She grinned bigger knowing he had just asked his last question, having just wasted 3 questions on nonsense. “He is the same Jace that killed your nephew, he is a wizard or arch wizard, I cannot say for the branches of fate are twisting around him.”

The king pondered a long moment. “Then how do I live through this night?”

“I am sorry your grace, but you have already asked 5 questions.” Her answer was flat and calm.

“Wait… no I just asked 3.”

“Will someone try to kill me this year? Who is the killer? Have you ever heard of a one-legged swordsman? does this Jace have one leg or two? And Then he is not the arch wizard Jace who killed my nephew? There are two Jace’s? I have answered all 5 questions.” Her tone never wavered.

“Double.”

“Double what?” She pretended she didn’t know what he was talking about. She was enjoying stringing this corrupt bastard along.

“Double the tribute. We’ll pay double the tribute to Ghanarai this year, just answer 5 more questions.”

“One question”

“Three”

“Two”

“Alright, fine! two questions.” The old bastard was sweating, then asked the most important question. “How do I avoid this fate?”

“Welcome him into your home and give him everything he asks for.”

“Even the crown?”

“Especially the crown.”

“Will I lose my crown this year?”

“You already asked 7 questions.”

The king looked like he was about to explode.

“Triple!”