Different Kind of Angel

A Different Kind of Angel
By: Logan Mayhew


Logue of Pro tense
(Prologue)

         He stood, watching as the fog cleared, waiting for the army to approach.  They did not, they just stood, watching him back, awaiting orders from their generals.  He sighed and drew his sword, Groth, a great-sword, a sword which had been forged long ago by the very man who wielded it this day.
         This will be over quick, he thought, though for whom he knew not.
         He clenched his sword hilt in both hands and steadied himself, trying to grasp n obvious reason why he was doing this.  Then, he didn’t think, he just went into a frenzy, charging the mass of evil soldiers set before him.
         He reached the front lines and killed three soldiers with a single swing.  The soldiers attempted to back off but he charged them again, felling more and more soldiers with every swing.
         Fodder, he thought, they are nothing but fodder.
         He backed off and held his sword before him, finally realizing what he was doing.  He concentrated on his surroundings, on a shallow sloped hill, sloping upwards toward the army.  The fog impeded his sight of the rest but he estimated five thousand soldiers were here. 
         As he was about to charge again, he heard something behind him.
         He turned and grabbed the weapon of the lancer which attacked from horseback.  The lancer was thrown off balance and fell to the ground.  He quickly executed the lancer with Groth and turned again to face the army.  They had encircled him.
         He fended them off, slashing, jabbing, arcing his sword over his head and coming down with devastating effects. 
         A particular soldier felt brave enough to take him alone and ran at him.  He blocked one swipe before getting a slash of Groth to the stomach.  The force made him drop his weapons and the soldier was beheaded. 
         Groth found its way through many defences and killed many soldiers before the great leader of the army unleashed his greatest weapon, which seemed like a waste on just one man.
         Flames erupted before the man wielding Groth, singeing his armour and parts of his skin.  A loud roar made its way from he depths of the fire and a shadowy figured appeared, standing before the man.  The demon. 
         It was tall, ten feet tall, to be exact, and had the head of a snake.  Its claws were made of rock, it seemed, and its body made of fire.  With every breath, it spat out a cloud of smoke. 
         He took his position and waited for the thing to advance.  It did not, it only stared at him sending a forked tongue out from its mouth and flicking the air before it.  He shrugged and charged the thing, sword above his head.
         The demon swiped at him with its large claw, but missed, he was quick.  He countered with a slash to the leg, only then realizing that flame was intangible.
         The demon hit him in the chest, crushing more than one rib.  He was thrown back, head over heels into a crowd of soldiers and they did not hesitate in slashing at the man with their weapons.  Within a few seconds, the man was dead.
         A subtle roar escaped from the army as the soldiers realized what they had done.  They had defeated the only resistance between them and Threktare, the city they had come to destroy.  Though it seemed an insignificant win, it was after all only one man.
         But then, the soldiers shielded their eyes as a beam of light stretched from his body to the sky, pulsing regularly.
         The man stood slowly, surprised he had survived.  The light disappeared and he noticed he had changed drastically.  Though he was still only six feet tall, he felt as though he had the strength of twenty men at his disposal.  His hair was also changed, it was now long and flowing, very unlike his scraggly hair he had before.  His armour was different as well, it was no longer black and torn, but white and shining, and he now held a shield in his left hand.  He felt a power surging through him, a power waiting to be unleashed.  He raised his hand to a soldier and let loose some of this energy.  Lightning shot forth from his fingertips and struck the soldier, killing him instantly.
         He turned to the demon and spoke in a voice almost too pure to be heard by mortals.
         “This is not your place.  You will die at my hands and there is nothing in this world or the next that can save you.”
         The demon shrieked and walked slowly towards him.
         He quickly spotted his weapon and summoned it to him.  It left the ground and entered his grasping hand with vengeance.  He threw his shield over his head and rushed the evil creature.
         The demon smashed both its claws down onto his shield but he did not lose his momentum nor did the shield show any signs of breaking.  He followed through, underneath the demon’s legs and turning around behind it.  The demon turned and was greeted by a slash to the stomach.  It laughed maliciously when it realized it didn’t cause him pain.  He extracted his sword and unleashed some of his energy into it.  The sword now glowed strongly and he again slashed the creature.  This time, the creature cried in pain as the sword struck something tangible.  He slashed again and again until the creature was dead.           
         He turned to face the army but the soldiers had fled, to the disobedience of their generals.
         I win, he thought and indeed, he did win this day.  He looked again at the demon, then to the sky.
         “Why?” he asked, though he knew the question was not meant to be answered.  He had been given what most are to think the gift of life twice, when in reality, he never died.  He always had good in his heart, though he didn’t always act it.  He had stolen, even killed, but his god forgave him and protected him.  He now needed to pay his debt to his god by destroying any who dare desecrate Him.  He would not fail for he had the direct involvement of his god and no one could destroy a god. 
         With that, he sheathed Groth and walked back to the city. 
                                       *          *          *          *
Chapter 1: You Dog!

         When he reached the city, he was stunned to see how many people had shown up to welcome him back.  He was never a famous man, no more than a blacksmith, but he was renowned by his friends for impressive feats of strength. 
         Cheers were screamed in his honour and citizens rushed to him to take hold of his hand, just to have touched the holy one.
         As he walked, a city guard tugged at his arm.  He turned and the guard saluted. 
         “His Majesty requests your audience, sir,” he said crisply.
         “He can keep it,” was his reply.
         “No, sir, he will see you now.”
         He shrugged and walked to a carriage that had been brought by the guard. 
         He opened the door and jumped in, sitting in the plush seat within. 
         The carriage started to move and he saw more people gather to honour him as he traveled down the road.
         “Great,” he said aloud in a sarcastic tone.
         When the carriage met the northern gate, two guards checked the carriage thoroughly and allowed him and the guard driving access.  The gates opened and he caught a glimpse of His Majesty’s courtyard.
         A lush carpet of grass covered most of the courtyard and the parts that weren’t covered held statues and fountains.  Vines crawled up the sides of the northern wall and partly up the castle.  Guards marched in all directions, making sure the castle was safe from intruders.
         The carriage stopped and a guard opened the door.
         He stepped out and took a more thorough look around.  He now saw that in front of the carriage lay a giant statue depicting His Majesty wrestling a dragon. 
         He shrugged and walked with his escort up the front steps of the castle.  Two guards stood on either side of the grand doors.
         As he moved towards it, one guard stopped him.
         “Your weapons, sir,” he said in a nasal kind of voice.
         He looked to his escort.
         “He gets his weapons,” the man protested.
         “He is an Imperial guard, sir.”
         “I am a holy knight.”
         “His Majesty cares not, sir.  You must give me your weapon or you will not be permitted access, sir.”
         He looked to his escort and the guard shrugged.
         “It is the law,” the guard said.
         He sighed then loosened his belt.  He handed the sheath to the guard and laughed as the man nearly dropped the monolithic weapon.
         “Our job, sir,” said the same one who took his weapon, struggling to keep on his feet.
         The two guards opened the door promptly and he stepped in.  He was in a large foyer, the floor made of marble with two grand staircases ascending to the second floor.
         “Straight ahead,” said his escort.
         The two walked forward to the large oak doors and there stood two more guards.  They opened the large, ornate doors and he stepped into His Majesty’s throne room.
         The room was of epic proportions, spanning one hundred feet wide and two hundred feet long.  The room was lined with rows and rows of pillars holing up the massive ceiling. 
         As he walked down the center of the room, he noted the guards standing on either side of the walkway.
         When he reached His Majesty, his escort took a bow but he did not.  He had never been of or near any royalty and did not know what to do.
         “Sir…umm, what is your name?” His Majesty asked.  He was a tall man with long, gray hair and long flowing robes. In his right hand he held a sceptre and in his left, a red orb.
         “My name is Zederik Alishone,” he replied.
         “Zederik, eh?  Yes, a name worthy of a knight,” said His Majesty.
         “Your Majesty, if I may…”
         “Please, Zederik.  I am talking to you informally, you should do the same.  Call me Victor.”
         “Yes, well, Victor.  I am no knight.”
         “No?  You must tell me then how you managed to fend off an entire army and not be worthy of knighthood!  Men have been knighted for less,” His Majesty laughed.
         “Through the direct grace of my god.”
         “God?  No, there is no god, Zederik, only man, and animals.  God is no more than a figment of imagination.”
         “Well, then, my imagination must be pretty vivid because it was he who gave me my power to destroy a creature of pure evil.”
         Victor was surprised.
         “Listen, Zederik, there will be no more talk of your god.  I wish to speak of your victory.”
         “Yes, I defeated an army.”
         “And a demon, I hear.”
         “Yes, a demon too.”
         “Interesting.  I could use someone like you, or perhaps, I could use you.”
         “I’m sure every one has something to gain from me, now”
         “Indeed, but to business.  I have summoned you for one purpose.  I need your help.”
         “Doesn’t everybody,” Zederik said sarcastically.
         “You see,” Victor said, ignoring Zederik.  “There are some…er, problems, regarding the safety of some of our citizens, here in the Empire.”
         “Problems?”
         “Yes, we need someone of your talents to find us an artefact.”
         “I think I’ve heard this before.”
         “We need some one to find the Rod of The Fe-Shaw.”
         “Oh really?”
         “Yes.”
         “And I suppose I will have to travel past the Great Sea, over the Great Desert, through the Waste-lands, over the Hills of Doom, and through the Mountains of Death?”
         “Well, if you want to take the long way.  All you really need to do is travel over the Great Sea to Meshagona-Depindulon, land of the balanced.”
         “And this artefact will bring peace to the citizens.”
         “Actually, no.  It will bring me more power over the land, but I’ll let you in on some too.  How about it?”
         “Well, Victor, I don’t think I should.”
         “I will also give the churches to your god three hundred thousand gold pieces if you complete this quest,” Victor said boringly.
         “You think I would take a price such as that for this quest?  Please, Your Majesty, I cannot accept this as a moral mission,” Zederik said, nearly disgusted.
         Victor sighed.  “Then I will not ask you.  I will make you go, to benefit me only.  You will return only to be chained and confiscated of your weapons and my artefact of power,” His Majesty rose and put down the items in his hands on the throne seat.  “And to ensure you do not go running off in some misdirection, I will send with you an escort,” he finished with a clap of his hands and a woman walked out from under an archway in the side of the throne room.  She was nearly as tall as Zederik, standing only five inches below his head.  Her hair was parted on the left side of her hair and the front portion of the right side of her green hair was longer than the left, despite the awkward part.  She was dressed in a tight, black trench coat which was belted on both sides of the hip but not across the front of the jacket.  Beneath the coat Zederik could see a white shirt which was partially see-through, thus allowing him to barely see brown leather armour.  A checkered skirt clung to her hips lazily, more for decoration than practicality for leather leggings extended from beneath the skirt to her tall fur boots.  He could see a short bow in its holder on her back and the fletching of arrows were visible over her right shoulder. 
         She walked to stand beside the serious looking king.  His Majesty greeted her then looked back to Zederik.  “Do not underestimate her, Zederik.  She is the greatest thief in all the city.”
         Zederik did not attempt to hide his amusement with a loud laugh.  “The king has given trust to the one person who steals his taxes?”
         “No, you fool.  She works as a thief for me, not for some unmentionable guild.  She steals for me, gains information for me and even kills for me.”
         “How can a noble man such as you bring yourself to employ an assassin?” was Zederik’s response
         “Simple.  I pay her to kill any who attempt to take the throne.”
         “You may destroy a usurper but you cannot halt a rebellion.  The people will learn of your actions and they will not listen to what you have to say for yourself until you are dead and buried!”
         “They will not know for she is the best assassin in any realm…” the king started but was cut off by Zederik.
         “You cannot justify your actions, you dog!”
         “I will not accept such insults within my kingdom, Zederik!  You will follow my orders or be put to death by Ixasis.  She shows no mercy!” the king warned.
         “Why are you so foolish?  I have just defeated an army, your pawn cannot end my life,” Zederik started but then realized what he said.  “My apologies Ixasis, the meaning of my statement was different from what I intended,” the man said quietly with a bow.
         Ixasis smiled.  “It’s alright,” she said rather calmly and with such an accent that led Zederik to believe she was an elf. 
         His Majesty looked to both Ixasis and Zederik then sat down, scooping up his ornaments of his power.  “Both of you now, you know your mission and you know the consequences if you fail or do not do as instructed.  Leave and return with your god’s grace, Zederik, though my blessing is insignificant.”
         Zederik bowed bitterly.  “I thank you any way,” he forced the words through clenched teeth.
         He rose and Ixasis took him by the arm.  “Let’s go.  I know of a great inn close to here,” she said, skipping cheerfully to keep up with Zederik.
                                       *          *          *          *
         The inn Ixasis had led Zederik to was quite a remarkable place.  And not in a good way.  The floor creaked and in some places there were even holes leading into the cellar.  The barkeep was a rude man and Zederik thought he’d let Ixasis take care of the rooms. 
In comparison to the horrible appearance of the downstairs tavern, the rooms were exquisite and cheap.  Silk was a very common cloth used in Zederik’s room.  The cloth made up the blankets, the drapes, the rug and even the towels albeit they were quite impractical.  Zederik was thoroughly impressed to hear that the inn was not frequently used even though the bar area was nearly worn out from use. 
Zederik had put his shield and sword up against the wall and was out of his armour, just wearing cloth clothes.  He sat on his bed, praying to his god when he heard a light tap on the door.
“It’s me,” he heard Ixasis say.
“Enter,” Zederik responded. 
The elf opened the door and walked into the room, sitting down beside Zederik.
“What did you want?” the man asked.
“I just wanted to tell you that we are leaving early in the morning, get lots of sleep.  Raff will wake us,” he knew she was talking about the barkeep.
“Thank you,” he said and she got up and left his room.
He sat laying in bed nearly half the night, thinking about what had happened, about how his god had given him power far more superior than any king, hero or mage.  Divine magic was certainly not a force to go against, even if one was a demigod.
He finally fell asleep and dreamt about how he was to take, or even find, the Rod of The Fe-Shaw.  All he knew was that the Fe-Shaw was a prestigious group of fighters built around an honour much more stable and dangerous than that of a knight’s.  The Fe-Shaw were wiped out many centuries ago and it was rumoured that the Mountains of Meshagona-Depindulon were home to secret treasury that the Fe-Shaw had collected over the thousands of years of their existence.  Unfortunately for the Fe-Shaw, an evil man by the name of Torkill wiped them out in a raid among the world a few centuries past.  The Fe-Shaw’s last leader, Tozuko Shukazi had created the Rod of the Fe-Shaw as a reminder to the world of their skill and honour.  He had sensed their imminent extinction and could do nothing about it.  The battle was not a battle, more a genocide.  Tozuko had ordered all the Fe-Shaw put their belongings in a vault, deep in the mountains and there he put the Rod of The Fe-Shaw.  As Torkill’s army swept over he warriors-who did not defend themselves, only kneeling and awaiting their execution-Tozuko uttered a curse to the overlord.  The one who finds the rod will have enough power to destroy Torkill’s soul by controlling the Fe-Shaw, and raising them from the grave.
Zederik thought the story to be only myth, there was no room for myths in religion but the story still intrigued him.
                                       *          *          *          *
The next morning Zederik awoke to a tap at his door.  He answered it and saw the barkeep standing before him with Ixasis standing behind him.
“Time to wake up,” the man said gruffly then walked away.
Zederik sighed and closed the door.  He donned his armour and grabbed his sword then made his way into the hallway.
“I have arranged for a boat to take us to Meshagona-Depindulon today,” said Ixasis.  “We should get to the harbour quickly.”
“Without breakfast?”
“Yes, without breakfast.”
Zederik sighed then followed the elf out of the inn and into the streets of Threktare.  The city streets were quite unremarkable, mere dirt paths etched into the land lined by small houses made of stone or wood. 
The knight followed Ixasis to the southern section of the city to the harbour and saw that out of thirty open docks, only one was attached to a boat.  The pair walked to the large vessel and Zederik got his first time at the captain. 
The captain was a tall seadog, a man with no obvious education but a wisdom that could only come from decades of life at sea. 
“Eh?  Oh, ‘ello Ixasis,” he said in a high nasal voice.
“Hello, captain,” replied the elf.
“Come aboard, eh?  Me crews almost ready ‘ere.  We can leave within the hour, eh?” he explained.
“Excellent,” she commented and led Zederik to a gangway a couple of feet away from their current position.
The ship had been bustling with activity.  Men ran from place to place trying to complete their given task so the ship could leave the harbour early.  Ixasis led Zederik to a short stairway and the two descended into one of the lower portions of the huge ship.  They travelled down a long corridor and at the end came upon two doors, side by side.
“Your room is on the right,” explained Ixasis.
Zederik opened the door and took a look at the room.
“I’m going to talk with Captain Oviera, you may wish to get settled in before breakfast,” said the elf as she walked away. 
Zederik stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.  IT was a simple room, only a bed and a desk.  A porthole hung just above the bed and was at a level where Zederik could see the ocean while he laid in bed.
He put his armour and weapon down beside the desk and sat on the bed, offering a prayer to Thifer, his god.
                                       *          *          *          *
True to his word, Oviera and his crew left the harbour in close to an hour, making their course due west.
Zederik was more cheery-now that he had eaten-and felt more energetic.  He stationed himself beside the captain, he didn’t like to be in the way, and was watching the blue waters roll by him.
“So,” said Oviera after a while.  “What takes you to Meshagona-Depindulon?”
“It’s quite complicated,” Zederik answered in a boring tone.
“Oh, I see.  Secret, eh?  That’s fine.  Just curious ‘s all.”
“I’m glad you won’t press it.”
“Why would I?  Ye paid me t’take you t’the city an’ I’m gonna take ye there.  Talkin’s not in the contract.”
Zederik only nodded and watched the crew work for a few moments.  Ixasis strode to the two men and leaned against the railing.  Zederik walked to her side and stared into the ocean.
“How is it you became an assassin?” he asked.  “You don’t seem to be the person who would kill for coin.”          
Ixasis sighed and looked away from the man.  “I do not like to talk too much about it.  Leave the matter alone.”
Zederik noted her sadness and wondered why the subject hadn’t bothered her during their first meeting.
“Beautiful waters, anyway,” he said, trying to change the subject.
Ixasis nodded blankly.

Many days had passed with little event-a miniscule hole in the hull, a broken sail-and Zederik was beginning to bore.
However, a few more days passed would bring excitement. 
An alarm went throughout the whole ship, crew members ran seemingly frantically at the yelling of the watchmen.  Weapons seemed to appear in the hands of men as if from thin air.  Zederik saw this and ran to his room to grab his weapon.  As he reached the deck, he saw Oviera and Ixasis conversing.
“What’s going on?” Zederik asked.
“Unidentified ship,” said Ixasis.  “We’re preparing for the worst.”
“No kidding,” said Zederik as he watched a group of men haul a rather large bolt up to the ballista stationed at the front of the ship.
He looked back and saw the ship, a large, blackwood ship with red sails.
“That’s an Imperial interceptor,” he said.
“Huh?” asked Oviera.
“The General of our militia sends them out to take down smugglers or pirates.  You can tell by the wood mostly, the sails are always differently coloured but the wood is always blackwood.  It’s stronger than conventional wood and they generally use it to ram their opponent.”
“How do you know this?” asked Ixasis.
“I served as a man-at-arms for a few years.”
“And you’ve had to use one of those?”
“No.  I was supposed to but when I saw how brutal those men aboard are I quit.”
Ixasis was not surprised, many guards and soldiers of their city were not the friendliest of men.
She sighed and turned to Zederik.  “We must fight them then, no remorse.”
“I cannot kill them because I feel the need to.”
“There is a great need to, though.  They will no doubt kill any men aboard.  You can fight them, fend them off.”
“And you?”
“I will…help.”
Zederik nodded and looked back to the interceptor.  It was closing in on them fast but Oviera’s men were readying themselves by making ranks at each side of the  ship.
Oviera whistled low and told the men of the interceptor’s position every few seconds.
Soon the ship was a few hundred feet behind Oviera’s and to the right.  Zederik positioned himself to meet them on that same side. The ship was now directly beside them and Zederik drew his weapon, feeling Thifer’s power surge through the weapon.
Many guards dressed in silver chain mail swung over to Oviera’s ship and many crew members slashed at them with what seemed like expertly crafted scimitars.  Zederik was impressed at how these men could fend off the city guard. 
Then the enemy came on in stronger waves, few crew members died but they were dealt a large blow.  Zederik finally got to fight, cutting down many guards and making his way to the railing.  Then, when he looked to the back of the ship, he saw them. 
More interceptors, much more interceptors were making their way to them.

Ixasis left her bow and arrows in her room but that did not mean she was useless for battle.  She quickly ran to the railing on the higher deck and leaped off, drawing a deadly kukri.  She slashed a guard who was swinging across and stole his rope-swing.  She came down on the interceptor in a roll and drew another, similar kukri.  She dodged and weaved through the guards on board, slashing quickly at any opening.  Her master skill in stealth led her through the men with few noticing her and she soon found some stairs leading down.  She descended and found only one guard standing before a door at the end of a long corridor.  She sheathed a kukri and took a throwing knife from her belt.  She whipped it across the corridor and it made its way into the guard’s chest, killing him. 
She again took out her kukri and ran down the corridor, opening the door at the end.  There she found what she was looking for-the cargo room. 
The elf sheathed both kukris and untied a leather pouch from her belt.  Inside was some red powder which she spread liberally over the food, water and supplies.  She then stood far back from the room and while in the corridor started to work her elven magic.  She produced a tiny red glowing orb in her hand and she sent it slowly towards the room. 
Ixasis then hurriedly ran up to the main deck and found a rope to swing across on.  She ran, gaining momentum and jumped for it, grabbing it and gliding across the expanse between the two ships.  The interceptor exploded, sending her in an awkward spin through the air.  She landed right beside Oviera and cried out in pain.  She looked at her leg and confirmed that it was broken. 

Zederik soon cut down every man the interceptor sent him and then watched with satisfaction as the vessel burned and sank.  He watched as city guards swam helplessly in the waters and he watched as masts of the ship crumbled into the ocean, killing any unfortunate to be beneath them. 
“Captain,” he heard a watchman say.  “There are more of them.”
Zederik wondered why he had only seen them now and then looked at the captain to see him kneeling over Ixasis, helping her up.  He released some of Thifer’s power into her and healed part of her leg.  She could stand but it hurt.
Zederik turned back to the oncoming ships, he saw that Captain Oviera had seen them and he was taking action.  Men ran, again, chaotically on the deck of the ship, manning battle stations and taking posts.
Zederik ran back to the captain, hoping he would explain his tactics.
“Hold on, Zederik, this part o; the trip gets a little bumpy!” the captain yelled.
Zederik looked down to the crew members and noticed what they were doing.  They were raising the main sail, not readying arms as he thought they would.  Ropes were tossed about and men yelled to each other for assistance as Zederik watched the hectic scene.
“I don’t mean to tell you how to run your ship, captain,” said Zederik, “But, shouldn’t your men be preparing for battle, not raiding mast?  We are against the wind after all.”
Captain Oviera smiled his crooked smile and looked down at his crew.  “Continue boys!  Make it quick, they’re gaining!” he said to his crew.  “We have a surprise for ye, Sir,” he said to the knight.
         “I, uh…” Zederik started to say but fell to the deck before he could continue.  He looked to the front of the ship and noticed the horizon lowering itself…No, he realized, the ship was rising!  He got up and ran to the railing on the side of the boat.  Looking down, he saw the ocean waters thirty feet below him, and they were still rising.
         Gradually, the interceptors got smaller and disappeared.  Zederik could see now that they were more than a thousand feet up.  He noticed too that the ship had gained speed while in flight. 
         “Captain Oviera,” he said in an angry voice.  “Tell me the meaning of this.”
         “Oh, don’t worry ‘bout it.  We’re just flyin’-“
         “You must tell me of these things before they happen.”
         “I told ye we had a surprise,” the captain looked to Ixasis and winked, causing her to giggle.
         Zederik sighed and turned to the elf.  “And I suppose you knew about this.”
         “Naturally,” she said with another giggle.
         “That’s just great.  Did you plan the interceptors too?”
         “No, that was unexpected…”
         “Sure.”
         “They were!  I had nothing to do with them.”
         “Oh no?  You’re only directly connected to the king in a way most advisors aren’t.  Why would he not tell you?”
         Ixasis sighed.  “Perhaps he wanted me dead,” she said in defence.
         Zederik turned away and leaned on the side railing.  He stared down at the water contemplating why the king would want him or Ixasis dead.
         “He wouldn’t want to kill us,” he realized, saying his thoughts aloud.  “He wants that power.  There shouldn’t be any other reason why those interceptors tried to kill us.”
         “Maybe one of his generals sent it out?” Ixasis pondered.
         “That wouldn’t make sense.  Wouldn’t he share his power with his army?”  Zederik knew what Ixasis was going to say as soon as his words left his mouth.
         “This is King Victor, we speak of.  He doesn’t even share his wealth with his own daughters.  They have to fend for themselves.  I would know, I met them,” explained Ixasis.
         “That dog,” he cursed quietly. 
         “And anyone who knew King Victor certainly wouldn’t want to try to stop him.  That would be stupid,” Ixasis elaborated.
         Zederik nodded his head in agreement. 
         “Then what were they doin’?” asked Captain Oviera.
         Zederik shook his head.  “I’m not sure.  They weren’t friendly, that much is certain.  If you don’t mind my stating the obvious; this was not an Imperial attack.”
         Ixasis rolled her eyes and shook her head.  I do indeed mind, Zederik.