Rain came down in torrents, soaking the forest floor.  The sky was as dark as a demon's eyes, lit up only by flashes of light creating scars across the pitch black sky. Trees stretched their limbs towards the droplets, soaking in the water as they almost glowed a vibrant green color, revived by the storm. A lone figure trudged the side of the path of the path through the woods, a black cloak held tight to their body. The figure walked with an awkward gate, favoring their right side as they made their way down the road, slowly but surely. 

The sound of tires made the figure look up. A pearl white carriage was rolling past, pulled by two white horses that appeared more brown than white with mud. The clopping of their hoofs came to a stop right beside the figure, who had stopped to look at the carriage, the only visible part a pair of electric blue eyes eyes peering out form under the hood of the cloak. 

"Are you alright, sir?" A high voice pierced through the rain as the carriage door opened to reveal a woman dressed in layers of a creamy pink dress and sparkling jewels around her neck. The woman's golden hair was spun into an intricate style which bore quite a bit of resemblance to a beehive. 

The hooded figure's electric blue eyes glinted with flecks of amber despite the gloom. "Yes, ma'am."

"Are you quite sure?" The woman stuck her head further out the carriage door, her face curling in disgust as a few dropped fell on top of her.  "What are you doing out in the storm?" 

The figure shrugged, giving the woman a sheepish smile. "My horse was spooked by the thunder a couple miles back and ran off. I figured I could walk to the next town. It isn't too much longer now, and I've already come this far." 

"Absolutely not!" The noblewoman gasped, pressing a white gloved hand to her open mouth. "Grefthallow's the nearest town, and it's still three miles away. Let me give you a ride." 

"I don't want to trouble you." The figure said, tipping his head towards her. "Besides, the storm's letting up." 

As if to prove him wrong, a brilliant bolt of lightening flashed right in front of the pair, lighting up the black sky with blue and white electricity. The hair on the figure's arm stood on end, the energy crackling between the carriage and the blue eyed person before it disappeared, a loud crack following almost immediately in it's wake. 

"You were saying?" The woman prodded the figure. 

"I think I may take you up on that offer after all." The figure relented, clambering into the carriage, pulling down the heavy cloak's hood, shaking out messy red, gold streaked hair. The woman took in the figure, which she could tell now was male. Though she had been married almost ten years now, the woman had to admit that the man that sat in front of her was quite striking. A smattering of golden freckled covered his pale but sun reddened skills, small leaf tattoos covering both sides of his temples. Though he was still mostly cloaked, the woman could make out similar ink patters on the sides of his neck. The man's pointed ears held several small hoops that lit up with each flash of lightening. 

"Are you alright ma'am?" The man asked, and the woman shook her head, flushing as she realized she'd been staring. 

"Fine. Fine." The woman said with a cough, painfully aware of the large diamond on her finger as she gestured the carriage to start moving again. 

The man's fingers drummed against his leg in a dizzying rhythm, tapping out beats. His electric blue eyes looked around the carriage, a expression that was both a mixture of reserve and awe etching his face. The noblewoman felt herself almost drawn to the rhythm, wanting to soak it in and live in it forever. It was almost like music, notes soaring among them in the small space.

"Did the horse throw you off?" The woman said, breaking the spell like trance.

The man's fingers stopped, his sharp eyes turning towards her in question. "What?" 

"I couldn't help but notice you were walking with a limp." The woman gestured towards the red haired man's left leg. "You said the horse was spooked because of the storm, so I thought you might have injured it." 

"Oh, that." The man looked strangely relieved. "I'm afraid that's all me."

The noblewoman's face filled with intrigue. "Oh?"

The man nodded, an indescribable expression passing over his face. "My leg was lost in an...accident when I was young. I've never quite figured out how to walk properly with the prosthesis." 

"How tragic!" The woman explained. 

"Not really." The man shrugged, a shadow passing over his eyes. "There are much worse things." 

The noblewoman leaned forward, her gaze intense. It had been so long since she'd heard anything remotely interesting, especially from a young man who was this attractive. If she was being honest with herself, it was the first time she'd felt truly alive in many years. "What's your business in Grefthallow anyway? You look like an honorable young man." 

The man laughed with perfect ease. "I appreciate that, ma'am. I'm going to The Hanging Duck. I was on my way to meet an old friend there before the storm began." 

The noblewoman nodded slowly, her intrigue growing. "The tavern?" 

"Yes." The man smiled, and the woman's heart pattered. 

"May I ask why?" The woman said. The noblewoman was not one for subtly. 

The man tipped his head, pressing his lips together. "Well, to tell you the truth, I've fallen on hard times lately. My friend was going to help me find a job here. He's very well connected."

The woman pressed a hand to her heart, the lace from her gloved trembling slightly. "Why you poor dear!"

"It's really quite alright." The red haired man assured her, waving his hand dismissively. "It's nothing I haven't overcome before." 

"Nonsense!" The woman said, reaching into a lacy white purse covered in pink pearls that sat on the bench next to here. "Here, let me give you something to help you along." 

The man's electric blue eyes stared at the small coin bag the woman was holding out to him. A bag that contained a good twenty small rubies. "I couldn't. You've already been so kind." 

"I insist!" The woman pressed the bag into his hands. Something told him that she didn't take no for an answer. "What am I going to do with all these jewels anyway." 

"Thank you." The man said, stuffing the small bag into the satchel that hung at his side as the carriage came to a stop in front of an old building, the sign blowing in the gusts of wind. The name was barely legible through the torrents of rain, but a flash of lightening revealed the scratchy cursive that announced The Hanging Duck. The man started to climb out, but turned back, his electric blue eyes warm. "You've been so kind, and I forgot to ask your name."

The noblewoman let out an awkward chuckle, once again painfully aware of the stone that sat on her finger. A stone that reminded her of the name she'd temporarily forgotten. "I'm Lady Amendla La-Minnings." 

The red haired man smiled, gently pressing a kiss onto her white glove. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance my lady. I hope that our paths cross again in the future."

La-Minnings giggled, her face reddening as the carriage pulled away, leaving the red haired man to run through the rain into the tavern, the sound of hearty conversation discernible even outside of the door.

The dimly lit tavern filled with robust laughter, carrying towards the rafters in swells like ocean waves. Figures crowded the wooden tables, pints piled high with foam sitting in front of them. For many of the tavern guests, this was their fourth or fifth drink of the evening. And the evening had barely just begun. 

"Hey, there gorgeous." The red haired haired young man leaned his elbow on the counter of the bar. "What do you say I buy you a drink and we see where the night takes us." 

The burgundy skinned woman turned to the red haired man and rolled her eyes. "We both know that's not going to work for you, Fanican."

The young man sunk into the bar stool next to the woman, his face falling slightly. "Thanks, Illeura. Way to boost my ego."

"Someone needs to give you a reality check every once and a while." Illeura shot him a pointed look. "I saw you trying to flirt with the tavern-keeper moments ago, and from what I saw he wasn't exactly into it either. Perhaps you need to think about changing you're tactics."

"The keeper's a dwarf. They're notoriously hard to attract." Fan said, groaning in defeat. "And I will have you know that I just attracted the attention of a noblewoman, so what's one dwarf?" 

"Whatever helps you sleep at night." Ileura amended, running a hand through her short, strawberry blonde hair and rolling her eyes.

"So, you're saying you wouldn't go out with me if you were someone else?" Fan questioned, his almost inhumanly colored eyes sparking in the dim light of the cavern, either entirely missing the point or ignoring it. 

"Yes." Illeura said bluntly, taking the full glass in front of her and taking a long drink. 

Fan placed the back of his hand on his forehead, feigning a swoon. "You wound me." 

"Stop making trouble at my bar." The bartender said, turning around to look at Fan while drying a glass with a dishtowel. "That's the last thing I need tonight." 

"I've never given you any trouble before, have I, Oric?" Fan asked, winking at the large bartender.

The orc sighed, setting the glass down on the counter in front of Fab, pouring a golden colored liquid into the cup without looking away from the blue haired man's eyes. "Sometimes I think you're more trouble than you're worth, Fan." 

Fan winked again, taking a swig of the liquid the bartender had set in front of him. "I like to keep your life interesting." 

"I don't mind boring days." Oric said, grabbing the dishtowel that he'd set down on the counter. 

"Don't say that!" Fan cried, almost spilling the mead from his cup. "Excitement is the only way to live." 

"Speaking of - " Illeura started, looking at Fan with a pointed expression. "How was your day today?" 

Fan swirled the drink in his hand, pressing his lips together. "I managed a bag of rubies of a lady traveling by carriage down the forest today." 

"How?" Illeura demanded, her black eyes flashing. 

Fan recounted his story. 

"You stole from a traveler?" Illeura hissed when he finished, leaning towards Fan with a guarded expression. "You know we don't do that." 

Fan held his hands up in surrender, his eyes boring into the eyes of his genasi companion. "I didn't steal from her. She gave it to me. I'm afraid that Lady La-Minnings couldn't resist my impish charm."

Illeura coughed out a sharp laugh. Even after all these years, Fan's responses still managed to surprise her. For better, or for worse. "I'm not sure impish is the word for it."

"Look, Illeura." Fan said, sighing. "I wouldn't have taken it if she didn't have plenty to spare. But, she did." 

"That still doesn't make it right. There are other ways to get it." Illeura said angrily, her black eyes flashing.

"Doesn't it?" Fan pointed out. "She gave it willingly." 

"Because she thought you were a poor, legless man looking for work!" Illeura pointed out, her skin flushing a deeper shade of red.

"I am!" Fan pointed out."Besides, you know as well as I do that the rubies are going to a better place than they would be if she hadn't given them up. How is it fair that the royals get all the money, yet do nothing with it for others? At least the lady was kind enough to give it. She recognized there was enough to spare!"

Illeura stared at Fan in stunned silence, realizing that he was right. The man hadn't stolen the money. It had been given to him. "So what are you going to do with it?" 

"Obviously I'll keep at least a few for us. We still need to survive." Fan rubbed the back of his neck. "But the families at the edge of the village are starving, and there are so many children roaming the streets. They need it more." 

Illeura nodded just as a clap of thunder shook the tavern, causing a few men to raise their glasses towards the sky. Over the past few years everything had become unpredictable. Disease ravaged the villages, storms became frequent and unpredictable, crops died due to unknown causes, and families struggled to stay afloat. Even taverns had lost a substantial amount of business in just the last few months. 

"Have you heard the rumors from Kilford?" A man with a ginger mustache asked in a thick accent, holding a pint in his hands, his voice slightly slurred. 

Fan turned to the man, his anger fading as her regained composure for the ginger. "No." 

"They say the Queen's sent someone to find and kill her son." The mustached man stated simply. "They say she sent her finest huntsman after him."

The color drained from Fan's face. "Why are they saying that? Antony disappeared years ago, why now?" 

The man shrugged, taking a sip of his beer before continuing. "They say the Queen doesn't want anyone to take away her throne. Antony is the only one with legitimate claim to the throne. The only way to stop him is to kill him."

Illeura's eyes darted between the ginger mustached man and Fan - who looked as if he'd seen a ghost. "Why?" 

"Because as long as he's still alive he's still a threat to her. Or at least if he'd still out thinking for himself. If he even had the slightest inkling to come back and challenge her for the throne, he'd have the grounds to do so." The ginger slurred, a splash of his beef spilling over the edge of his pint and onto the table. "If you ask me, it's a loud of bullshit. How would they find the prince after all these years? He's better off gone than there. The moment he steps into Kilford, his heart'll be gone in an instant." 

"Why his heart?" Fan asked, his voice soft, as if afraid to hear the answer. "Why not his head?"

The man's eyes were filled with sudden clarity as he looked straight at Fan. "Because with his heart she can control him, and that's a fate worse than death."