[i]‘’You know, despite all that you’ve been through just now, Korkud, this doesn’t even come close to the worst. It’s just funny, really. Like, Kafkaesque?’’[/i]

The weathered, tired man’s brow rose and his muscles moved as his mind whirred its dictionary to find the word Kafkaesque, and failed.

[i]‘’What?’’[/i]

[i]‘’You know, nevermind. You wouldn’t understand.’’[/i]

The man sighed, and the tips of his mustache fluttered slightly as he did so.

[i]‘’What do you take me for, a child?’’[/i]

[i]‘’Yes, I do.’’ [/i]There was a pause. Korkud was not amused. [i]‘’Well, no, you’re a grown man now, growing old, even, but you were just a kid when we first met. First impressions are hard to erase, you know.’’[/i] Korkud listened intently, for old times’ sake. [i]‘’Well, that’s irrelevant. You won’t understand, though. I’m dead, and you are not.’’[/i]

There was another sigh. Korkud’s shoulders fell, as if dazed by a blow, and his movement suddenly became more sluggish.

[i]‘’You’ve got to accept it. You’ve got to let go.’’[/i]

And there was yet another sigh.

-

Korkud did not mind the sewer. His boots, albeit old, were still strong enough keep their waterproof qualities. And his mind was preoccupied with too many things to actually reflect on the horrible scenery and the stench. He was hungry. He was sleepy – in fact, he was exhausted. His plans were on the verge of ruin. Someone knew he was alive. Someone wanted him dead. She was dead. 

That last one echoed in his head once more as he walked alongside the group, dazed still. Fifteen years and he still hadn’t been able to get over it. Then again, anyone would be bitter about getting their life burnt down to the ground.

The Nezamissaries wanted to contact the Emperor. Korkud had to prevent this. At this current point he would not be able to integrate himself into court life well enough – his fall from grace had occurred years ago, but the Nobility did not like having the balance of power disrupted, and he was thought of as a collaborator with a heretic still. Then again, the Emperor could possibly appreciate his unification of the Akha Mountains. It was too risky for now, but their mention of the subject nonetheless filled Korkud’s head with ideas. It would be best to stall them until they made it out of the city. But their commander had not let go of the initiative completely yet, and was still talking to the other survivors to get some help for his strivings. The man had moved to talk to that merchant woman Korkud had talked to earlier so quickly Korkud hadn’t even noticed the commander’s absence beside him for a few seconds. Korkud couldn’t help but admire the man’s resourcefulness.

As Korkud observed the commander, he couldn’t help but notice another figure, a young, striking man, appeal to the crowd. He moved from his spot to better hear the man. His ears were still battered from the rather deadly commotion that had occurred earlier.

‘’The Lord Sovereign, Richter von Conqvist, is much more dangerous than we thought and commands a seer within his ranks whom...’’ 

What came off as shocking to one of the surviving noblemen wasn’t all that much of a shock to Korkud. His paranoi-foresight had made him think of this. Everything had happened so fast. Their horses stolen, his identity known… The only other possibility was having a spy in his ranks, and that was impossible. Fadl would’ve rooted him out, and Korkud knew he could trust Fadl. The man was too content with his post to strive for anything else. It all pieced together.

The young man had a rather bold proposal, to storm the Palace amongst all the commotion and then get rid of the seer. It was suicidal, yet also, it seemed to be the smartest option. As long as that Seer was in place, they wouldn’t see the end of day – especially not after this failed attempt to wipe them all off the face of this earth.

‘’The proposition is sound. But what about the actual plan? We can’t just go knocking on the front door, can we?’’ Korkud asked with a hint of mock in his voice. In truth he had simply been too exhausted to actually care about the importance of the manner. Then again, when you save yourself from the middle of a warzone and your best bet after avoiding death is to attack a Palace alongside overwhelmed noblemen and the battered vestiges of an army unit, that tends to happen.