[img=http://fc00.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2012/159/3/d/medieval_town_by_joakimolofsson-d52p25s.jpg] [center][b]Chapter One: Secret Documents[/b][/center] [i]The city of Westbell, 1470 DR, one bell to midnight, a decade after the Dragonmaw Rebellion[/i] Atop a lofty castle of stone on the outskirts of Westbell, none would have thought it a residence of an intelligent being. Alone, yes. This castle would have proved conspicuous in the dulling night sky if it was not amidst a garden rumored to be haunted. He had went there. There was no ghost. It was just... him and his thoughts. The blue cloak perched on the age-ridden stone balcony fluttered in the cool wind, betraying the body underneath it of a few degrees of warmth. In its gloved hands it clutched an open heart-shaped golden locket. Its golden clasp contrasted the black tone of the gloves. Inside was a small but carefully engraved picture of a man and a woman, happy and smiling. The emotions of the picture dulled and faded in the ever-darkening night. "Mother. Father... "I hope you can hear me... "I have done nothing to free Westbell of the malevolent claw that has eaten away at its integrity, safety, and happiness for the last ten years. I am sorry. But now. That is about to change. "Please tell me, mama. Papa. In that other world, where Sev embraces you in his eternal light... that you can hear me. "Please tell me you are a star in this very night. Please tell me you see me, from where the flowers grow, and where no mortal foot can tread upon... "For I tell you, Mother and Father. That I will free this city, even if I must do it myself. Like you did, Father. Like you did, Mother." The face underneath the hood was weeping. Salty tears ran down its obscured face. It struggled to speak. "There is an organization I have discovered, father. They prove themselves to be worthy. But even if they turn their back on me, I tell you, my parents. That I will [i]not[/i] falter!" He would be discovered if he carried on like this. So he pulled his hood over his face ever so longer, and vanished into the tower's gray walls. --- "Death to the Signet!" Ah. Music to Aurel's ears. What a beautiful night. It was made all the better by the fires caused by the riot a few hours earlier. Aurel pushed and shoved his way through the throng of rioters to the center, where a sorry-looking man in golden and red robes was on his knees, restrained by a fresh lump of rope. "In the name of the Grand Overlord Dragonmaw, I [i]demand[/i] you free me from these restraints!" "I'm ever so sorry, Signet Cassius." Aurel unsheathed what looked like a long, sturdy rod of intertwined wood with a magical-looking electric blue orb perched on its top. "Apparently, increasing the tax by fifty percent in Lower-Class District Four didn't pass well with its citizens." He gestured around to the torch-wielding, pitchfork-waving rioters. Aurel promptly gagged the Signet with a filthy rag and turned his attention to the crowd. "Now who here wants the pleasure of sending our beloved Signet to the depths of hell?" "Me! Me! Me!" The crowd could not restrain themselves any longer. They closed in on the unfortunate Signet. The last thing Aurel heard from the center were muffled screams and the cringe-inducing sound of pitchfork tearing flesh. "What's going on here? Arrest them!" Even without his Arcane Eye spell, Aurel could recognize the familiar clank of steel and a black banner proudly displaying the insignia of a fiery red blade. He disappeared in the throng of commoners and into a dark alley. Not bad for the anniversary of the Dragonmaw Rebellion. When he was finally alone, Aurel put a leather-gloved hand to his lips and emitted something that sounded like a bluejay's song. Only the true Scarlet Masks would understand the real message - [i]rally[/i].