The sound of battle surrounded Eren.  It was a glorious sound, that of battle.  It was also horrifying.  It was the sound of men dying, of their guts slowly falling out of their stomachs and their mouths welling with blood.  It was the sound of men pleading for their mothers to come in save them, to make all their pain go away. It was the sound of men crying as they shat their trousers and pissed their breeches with fear.  It was a magnificent sound.
	Eren made his way through the battle, hacking at foes that were foolish enough to come close to him.  An effortless parry, then a quick jab and then they were dead. He left a trail of death behind him, an offering to the God of Death.  And onward he marched, through the chaos that was the battlefield.  He didn't have any true notion of where he was going.  He simply wandered, killing those who would attempt to kill him, as the battle raged all around him.  He paid it no mind, as cavalry charged around him, as catapults sent boulders the size of hovels crashing by his feet.  It was nothing to him.
	He never noticed the battlefield fade around him.  Slowly, like the sun setting beneath the horizon, the field grew darker and darker, until that was left was darkness.  Eren waited, and suddenly, there was a flicker of light, a tiny glow in the distance.  Slowly it grew and grew, until it was a full fire, crackling beneath the mantle.  Eren approached it steadily, slowly.  It seemed familiar to him, though he could not quite place it in his mind.  Whatever it was, he felt a bad feeling, a clenching of his guts.  Yet he continued onward, closer to that flickering flame.
	As he got closer, the flame got brighter.  It began to illuminate more.  Now there was a full room, a lavish stone set of chambers.  It was complete with a large table for private dining, a wash basin, a desk for writing, wardrobes for garments, and a large, four-post bed.  Eren paid it all no mind, though.  He focused on one thing and one thing only.  A woman, tall and long-limbed stood by the fire.  She clutched a child to her chest, slowly bouncing it up and down.  Eren heard a faint sound, as quite as a mouse, as she hummed a tune to the child.  Eren reached out, his hand desperately grasping at the woman as he began to realize, to remember.  His hand wrapped around her shoulder and slowly the woman turned around.
	At first, Eren was filled with a sense of bliss.  There he was, staring at his beautiful wife.  Her blond hair cascaded around his face in long golden waves, reflecting the flickering light of the fire.  Her emerald eyes shone, despite the darkness of the room.  Her soft, small lips were drawn upwards in a gentle smile.  The child gave out a small gurgling, as if it were laughing. And Eren was filled with happiness.  Yet even as he enjoyed the moment, it began to twist, to become corrupted from its beauty and bliss.  His wife's face began to change before him.  Here eyes became dark and empty, holding no light where it once did.  Her smile turned into one of menace.  A faint line of blood trickled down her face from the corner of her mouth.  Her face had grown pale, paler than  a corpse.  He noticed that the baby she clutched was no longer gurgling or playfully moving, but ghastly still.  He realized that she held a dead and rotting child.

"[color=9e0b0f]You left us.  You left me.  Why? WHY?[/color]" His wife's voice rising to a scream.  Her hands reached out at him, suddenly empty.  They grasped around his neck, squeezing, clawing.  Eren began to feel blood well.  His vision grew dark.  And all he could do was gasp "[color=007236]Sorry. Sorry.[/color]" over and over again as the tears welled in his eyes.

[center] ****** [/center]

	Eren awoke with a start, gasping for breath.  He could still feel the faint remnants of nails digging into neck.  He shook the feeling off, dismissing him as a fool.  It was dream, nothing else.  Now get up, you have work to do.  They'll be rest for you when your dead.  And Gods did he long for that day.
	Slowly, Eren got to his feet.  His back and neck were cramped, as he had slept the night in the crook of a tree.  Not the most comfortable of beds, but it had been the best shelter from the previous night's rain that he could fine.  Cracking his neck, he rid himself of his cramp and began to stretch.  Yawning, he began to collect his things.  They were not plentiful.  His pistols and his knife had remained attached to his belt through the night.  Oathkeeper had rested beside him and he now swung it over his back.  The only other thing he had was his bag, which was full of a few rations, a fire starting kit, and a carefully wrapped and oiled head as proof he had completed his contract.
	His things gathered, he began to set off, back towards Kailee's End. He began to think of that head, and the man it had once belonged to.  Not a bad man, not at all.  Simply a man addicted to gambling and not a steady enough income to support that addiction. He fell behind on his debts, angered the wrong man and then attempted to flee.  Unfortunately for him, the man he had angered had a surplus of wealth, enough to pay for the Iron Mountain to collect that man's head.  And that was where Eren came in.  It was a simple mission.  The man had been easy to track and he put up no fight.  An easy one, far beneath Eren's qualifications.  But a job was a job and so he went where the Iron Mountain sent him.  He couldn't complain.  The Adventuring Company was good, as far as jobs went.  Eren did not dislike it.  But it wasn't war, it wasn't the life of a soldier, fighting for something greater than himself, with his brothers beside him.
	Eren shook his head, clearing himself of his thoughts.  That life was far gone, that man dead and the land far gone.  At least here, in the Free Cities, he was free of that.  Here, the only demons that haunted him were the ones in his head.  
	The rest of the journey to Kailee's End passed by swiftly.  Soon enough the thick forest gave way to a sparser woods, with the trees more spread out and more room to move existing.  Those woods then gave way to plains.  Eventually, those plains yielded the city of Kailee's End.  It was unimpressive, at least in the Free Cities standards.  It was on the smaller side, compared to the likes of Highwinter.  A tall, thick wall surrounded it but to Eren's trained eye, he could see that with a few powerful siege engines, they would easily fall.  Eren was used to the sight, as he had been stationed in the area for the Iron Mountain for the past few months.  Something caught his breath as he came closer to the city, though.  For as he squinted in the rising sunlight, Eren saw the flags that flew from the top of the city's crenelations: the Red Dragon of Niratrem.
	Eren staggered as if he had been dealt a physical blow.  He could not imagine what he was seeing.  He had not seen that banner in years.  What was it doing here, this far south.  Suddenly, he grew paranoid.  Where they here for him? Had they finally found him and they had come to finish what they had started? Eren unconsciously began to finger the hilt of his pistol.  Slowly, recovering, Eren continued onward. 
	 He was allowed through the open gate, though not before receiving questioning glares from the soldiers stationed on the wall.  Eren immediately recognized them as the Third Legion, a fighting force renown in the empire for their brutality and cruelty.  The were also part of the military that sat firmly in Malnar's lap. Eren continued through the streets, concealing his face with a hood and keeping his head low, concealing himself in the shadows.  Eren made a quick stop at his employers estate, tossing the head at the man's feet.  He was traded for it a pouch heavy with coin and with his payment, Eren was on his way.
	He made his way towards the tavern he had stayed at, the Wise Trader.  Immediately, he sat himself at the bar and ordered the strongest thing the bartender had.  Then, he began to observe the scene around them.  The tavern was fairly packed, as it often was.  Most sat to themselves, either by their lonesome or in small groups, as was often the case in bars.  But Eren immediately noticed two larger groups.  One he recognized as fellow members of the Iron Mountain, by the way they carried themselves.  He assumed these were the contacts he was told to meet.  The other group, however, was less welcome.
	A group of ten or so Niratremi soldiers, all drinking deeply and laughing and talking boisterously.  Many of them were pawing at the serving girls, the youngest of whom could be no older than fifteen. Eren immediately was filled with rage.  These were no Gallants, sworn to protect the innocent.  They were the monsters of war, who used their strength to exploit the reach. Eren, swallowing down his rage with a quick shot of a particularly strong Dwarven brandy, tried to calm himself.  Yet as he watched the soldiers begin to rip the clothing of some of these women, he could contain himself no longer.
	He sprung to his feet, saxe knife in hand.  Oathkeeper would be too large crammed in this tavern and the pistols would attract too much attention.  Unnoticed, Eren crossed the room in three long strides.  One of the soldiers had raised a hand, prepared to strike one of the girls for resisting him.  It was then that Eren struck.  He leaped forward, his knife darting in his hand.  Before any of the Niratremi had realized what had happened, he had pinned the soldier's hand to the table with the knife.  The man screamed in pain, his hand stained red.  Within an instant, his companions had all gotten to their feet, weapons drawn.  Eren smiled cynically.  He was in for it now.