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Diana slept through most of the next few days. Compared to her city apartment, town-life was somewhat quiet, but Diana had a knack of putting all distractions out of mind anyway, so she slept like a log. While the rest of the town awoke at first light, Diana dozed until the sun rose above the buildings, streamed through the gap she had purposefully left in her drapes, and hit her in the face.  She lay there thinking over the past months events for a few minutes, then steeled herself to face the morning routine.

After five more minutes of putting it off, she flung off her feather-filled blanket and jumped out of bed. Diana's room was in the attic of a two-storey clay inn on the corner of Merchant's Reef, in one of the busiest quarters of the town. She went to the window bay, pulled open the drapes and stood there for a moment, enjoying the sun and watching the activity below. 

The bustling market had taken over the square; the sound of voices haggling and the smell of spices, cooked fish, and the sweat-producing search for the elusive red coral filled the air. Diana smiled to herself; the market would soon be winding down. Across the square, a guard patrolled the terrace atop the town watch headquarters. He raised his hand and waved at Diana when he spotted her. She replied in kind, then stepped away from the window, going over and putting a pot of sugar-sweetened water on the gridiron over the charcoal fire. 

While that was heating up, she set about her exercises. Diana dropped to the wooden floorboards and performed twenty slow push-ups. When she could barely lift herself another inch off the ground, she rolled over and started straight leg lifts instead. The pain in her stomach muscles was acute but strangely satisfying. Finally, she got up off the floor and stood below the two butcher’s hooks she had installed in the thick wooden beam that ran overhead. She jumped up and gripped the hooks—which were set two spans apart—and pulled her body up until her head almost touched the beam. Muscles screaming, she then lowered herself slowly down again. She managed to do this ten times before falling to the floor and collapsing, breathless.

Self-inflicted torture over, Diana went over to the stone basin in the corner and quickly washed herself down with plant soap and a sea sponge. She examined her reflection in the full-length mirror that was propped against the wall; she wasn’t as thin these days as she used to be—good food and town-living had filled her out a bit, but exercise and muscle kept her figure lean. Diana wrapped herself up in a linen robe and moved on to her next task: breakfast.

She dipped into her store of camellia leaves and threw a handful into the pot on the fire. She left it brewing while she cracked three eggs into a deep copper skillet, and while they were cooking she cut two thick slices of  bread and set them to toast. Diana hummed to herself tunelessly as she beat the eggs up; subconsciously timing it all so that the tea frothed, the eggs scrambled and the bread started to char at almost the same moment. She raked over the hot coals of the oven and took her food to her small table to eat.

Diana's table was littered with the fallout from past adventures: two throwing knives, her sickle sword, and an ivory badge; a symbol of her membership to her gang. Diana cleared a space for her food and sat down. She ate her toast and eggs with one hand, and used the other to trace out the intricate designs on the badge. Vipersong was their name, a title that once held power in the streets of Xerxes, fueled by a massive ring of bandits, thieves, corrupt merchants, prostitutes and magistrates; now reduced to a common street gang engaging in petty crime.  She took a small sip of her tea and grimacing at the scalding heat burning her tongue. For as long as she opted to remember, she had been apart of the gang, rising through its ranks under the guidance of its leader, her mentor: Caspian. As of now, she was a Tresais, third in command to Caspian and overseer of day to day operations.
 
The dial outside struck noon. Diana took one last gulp of her tea; it was brown, bitter and delicious. She had better get dressed; the man she liked to refer to as her patron would be up and about by now.

It was time for her to report in.

[center][h3]*****[/h3][/center]

Jakwela: the fishing boon of Amestris. Over two thousand people found shelter within its walls; and a few more risked a life just outside the walls, working the trade routes between the town and the wild. 

Diana was just one of those thousand, and today no one paid her much attention as she fought her way through the midday crowds. The thoroughfares were packed with men and women from all walks of life: traders and actors; labourers and civil servants; priests, sailors, beggars and scholars. Travellers and refugees from all over the region had been stirring this dense melting pot that was Amestris for years.

Diana  was dressed aggressively in black knee-high boots, black cotton trousers and a white open-necked linen shirt. Her only embellishment was a black leather choker around her neck. She walked with her head held high, her gaze focused on an indeterminate spot in the middle-distance. It was a trick Diana had learned to make good use of in the city; she was seemingly oblivious to anyone in her way, so people naturally stepped aside as she bore down on them. It didn’t always work, though: Diana  shoulder-barged a man carrying a bundle of firewood and sent him sprawling to the pavement.

[color=Lime]"You need to watch where I’m going!"[/color] she scolded him cheerfully, not stopping to help. 

Visitors to the Chieftain's Rest on top of Coral Crest had to first tackle the forbidding zig-zag of the Spine Fin. This steep ascent had the effect of weeding out the serious penitent from the merely curious, and Diana soon left the bustle of the town far below her. A dozen steps later, she stopped for a breather in the shadow of the Chieftain's Rest cool clay walls. It was a hot spring day; Diana had broken a sweat already. At least it would be nice and cool when she reached her eventual destination: the crypts.

She entered the Chieftain's Rest by the main double doors. The public rotunda beneath the enormous roof was a vast open space, home to Jakwela's many chieftains. They stood on plinths in a circle, the symmetry of the Chieftain's Rest offering equality to all and prominence to none except the figure in the center: the Enas himself. As always, Diana tried not to draw attention to herself by rushing straight down to the crypts, so she took the time to wander from chief to chief as if paying her respects, ignoring the rather aloof figure in the centre. She knew all their names—everyone did in  Jakwela. Here was Whalo, lifting a seashell aloft; next to him was Mena and her cloven; then Lio with his spear … Once they had all walked among their fellow men and women. Now, of course, they were all dead.

Diana was examining the statue of Nardo when someone stepped up beside her. She didn't look around; the last thing she wanted was to get to know any of the other regular visitors. Nevertheless, the newcomer made a move: [color=Tan]"Is my lady an admirer of brave Nardo?"[/color]

Diana sighed and turned to see who had spoken. A stranger in pristine leather armor stood beside her. He wore a deep blue surcoat embellished with a spiral of stars threaded in gold. He was handsome enough, with a broad friendly face and combed-back blond hair. [color=Lime]"If I see your lady,"[/color] Diana replied, [color=Lime]"I’ll be sure to ask her."[/color]

The stranger gave her a genuine, unaffected smile. [color=Tan]"My apologies! Perhaps you are a follower of Kilo instead?"[/color] Diana had to laugh. Kilo! The black sheep in the chiefdom: ugly and twisted and always up to no good. His only redeeming feature was that in the end, when the Enas came for him, he died defending his brothers’ and sisters’ children. It was a bittersweet tale that Diana actually enjoyed, her late-father himself told her that one.

[color=Lime]"Perhaps I am!"[/color] she teased him, her eyes scanning the rotunda. A robed priest had entered and was making his way to the central rostrum; the hourly invocation was about to begin.

[Color=Tan]"They say you should try to emulate the life of the chief you most admire,"[/color]’ Diana's new friend told her. [Color=Tan]"Nardo was a great knight as well as a chief: the bravest warrior, undefeated in combat, and full of virtue. A wise choice the Enas had made. My name’s Xan, by the way."[/color] Diana accepted his gloved hand. [color=Lime]"Sir Xan?"[/color] she asked him. He shook his head. [color=Tan]"No, sadly. Just Captain Xan for now. Although, that is a shortcoming I hope to soon address. Did you know that Nardo himself set down three heroic feats by which one could rise to knighthood? They are still enshrined in our law today."[/color] Diana was curious, despite herself. [color=Lime]"Go on then. What are they?[/color]

[color=Tan]"The first heroic feat is to wrestle a god to the ground."[/color] Diana smiled. [color=Lime]"I think you’ve missed your chance there—by about never."[/color]

 Xan was enjoying himself, making the most of his opportunity now that he had a girl’s attention. He counted the knightly feats off on his fingers: [color=Tan]"The second is to reach to peak a mountain in the Ironheart Ranges."[/color]

[color=Lime]"You don’t look the suicidal type to me."[/color] 

[color=Tan]"I actually suffer from a great fear of heights,"[/color] he admitted with a straight face. [color=Tan]"So then the only option left to me is the third feat. To join Nardo in the ranks of knighthood, I must prove myself as both a warrior and a defender of the town; I must slay the enemies of Enas and in turn the enemies of Amestris."[/color] Diana touched Xan lightly on the arm. [color=Lime]"Well good luck with that,"[/color] she said. [color=Lime]"I’m sorry, I have to go. It was nice meeting you!"[/color] Xan looked disappointed. [Color=Lime]"You didn’t tell me your name!"[/color] he called after her. She left him standing there next to his idol. As the priest began to address the large crowd that had gathered, Diana slipped away and made for the stairs that led down to the crypts. The invocation was not something that she ever cared to stay and listen to. The people of Jakwela did not pray; their dead chieftains could no longer hear them or use thier blessings. Instead, they pleaded … [b]"Oh Father of Vice,"[/b] the priest intoned, [b]deliver us from the wrath of your enemies."[/color]

[center][h3]*****[/h3][/center]

The priest’s drone faded away as Diana moved through the crypts. Passing by the elaborate effigies and oversized sarcophagi of self-important magistrates and nobles, she entered the ossuary: a dark maze of corridors and chambers, the walls of which were lined from floor to ceiling with the coffins of the Chieftain's Rest priesthood. There was no glory in death here, not even recognition; a priest was granted just ten years of quiet rest in his or her own plot of land, before being moved, bone-by-bone, to fill the gaps in the ossuary walls. The beds of the dead looked down on Diana as she passed by; pillars of rock held up torches that lit her way. 

Eventually, she arrived at an unlit part of the crypts, where Jakwela's forgotten line of chieftains rested. Diana took a torch from a skeletal hand, and plunged into the darkness. She passed by the life-size effigy of Chief Aldenute, whose life precipitated the formation of the Union. Diana counted off Aldenute’s ancestors as she went by (they all looked the same to her) until she eventually arrived at the final chief's tomb. This old king stared ahead impassively as Diana stepped around him to get to the door of his tomb. Diana pulled the portal open and slipped inside the tomb.

Someone had left a candle burning on the stone coffin within; it lit up what was essentially just a natural granite cave. Diana pulled the door shut behind her and fastened it. She shivered; whether from the chill damp or from the fact that she had just locked herself inside a tomb, she couldn't say. Still, she was almost there now. She extinguished her torch in a nearby pool of water and took up the candle. At the back of the cave was a narrow tunnel which twisted and turned deep into Coral Crest until Diana had lost all sense of distance and direction.

Finally, though, she emerged … … into a much larger cave. Stalagmites as tall as she was rose all around her, and the roof of the cave was lost in darkness. A ring of lanterns surrounded a long, low stone table in the centre of the cave. Rugs, furs and old leather-upholstered chairs were scattered inside the circle of light. And in one of the chairs, next to a warm brazier, sat Diana's patron: Lord Jorge Sealion—one of the wealthiest men in Jakwela; King of Fishermen; the Chief Without a Crown.

[b]"Hello, Tresais Diana."[/b] he said as he saw Diana approach. [b]"How has the Princess of Vipersong been fairing?"[/b]

Diana slumped down in one of the other chairs and put her boots up on the stone table. [color=Lime]"About as well as a girl can these days.[/color] she puffed.

Jorge was an unkempt man in his late thirties. He wore a shabby blue fur-trimmed doublet and two days’ worth of stubble. He put down the wooden bowl of noodles that he was eating from. [b]"Can't relate, Diana … as always. Did your Beta brief you as to why you're here?"[/b] Diana shook her head. [color=Lime]"Nope, I'm clueless as to why."[/color]

 [b]"Well then,"[/b]Jorge sighed. [b]"Why don't we sort that out?"[/b]

[color=Lime]"Why don't we?"[/color] Diana jibbed. [color=Lime]"Besides, I would love to know the reason why Caspian is calling this job: Vipersong's Big Break."[/color]

Jorge shrugged. [b]"Fair enough."[/b] He rolled a glass bottle to her over the top of the stone table. She uncorked it and took a swig. Diana wasn’t usually one for afternoon drinking, but what the hell.

[b]"This isn't a simple job."[/b] Benedict told her. [b]"Well, more of a mission really; a quest if you like. But it pays well: more than I’ve ever paid you all before."[/b]

[color=Lime]"I’m listening,"[/color] she said cautiously. Her patron took a gulp of his own ale and looked her in the eye. [b]"Good, because I’m in trouble, Diana, and Vipersong might be the only people who can help me."[/b] Diana remained silent, and took a long, slow sip of her ale. Jorge was prone to exaggeration; he liked to make his jobs for Vipersong sound exciting and urgent in order to tempt them, but on the other hand he was an expert at downplaying the danger. 

He was staring at the neck of his beer bottle as he spoke. [b]"You probably wonder where I get all my wealth from these days, considering that all I seem to do is drink, gamble and chase women."[/b] Diana shrugged. [color=Lime]"That’s none of my business."[/color] It was Xerx… ...Amestrian culture after all.

[b]"I quickly burned through the family fortune, that’s for sure,"[/b] he said. [B]"But I’ve made a few investments over the last couple of cycles, acquired a few … assets … here and there. Strictly off the records, if you know what I mean."[/b] Diana didn’t know what was worse—dawdling instead of getting to the point or getting smacked by Tauga. 

[b]"My most recent business venture took me off the coast and out into the White Sea."[/b] Jorge drained his beer. [B]"Six septums ago, my fishermen discovered land dozens of spans out. An island chain, supposedly unblemished by human, hain, or rovaik contaminants."[/b] Benedict paused to let this sink in.

[color=Lime]"Okay,"[/color] Diana said, [color=Lime]"so you want us to head over and see what’s up with it?"[/color] Fine, she thought; a little sailing and exploration would be fun. [b]"If it was just a matter exploration, I could send my men to investigate,"[/b] Jorge said. [b]"But Diana, there’s more: this island is more that just a patch of land floating in the sea. From the fishermen's report, mountains are surrounded by their sands and greenery can be seen for miles! The island chain is a boon of resources and opportunities, yet to be claimed or even known by the chiefs of Jakwela or A'aninin."[/b]

Diana considered this in silence for a few moments. [b]"So if Vipersong does accept the quest,"[/b] Jorge said, [b]"you might want this."[/b] He placed a rather large sack of black leather on top of the stone table. Diana took it; the bag was plain and unassuming, but when she opened it she drew breath, red coral filled the sack to the brim. [color=Lime]"This is …"[/color] she began. [b]"Yes, it is,"[/b] her patron said. [b]"Well, it wasn’t doing much good just rotting in my storehouses."[/b]

 Diana was lost for words. [color=Lime]"I don’t know, Jorge…"[/color]

[b]"Come on, Diana, Vipersong is the only group I can ask and you know it. After all, Vipersong was once the best; it can be once again."[/b] 

[hider=Summary]
[list]
[*]Skip a few weeks and Diana is established in Jakwela; the fishing port of Amestris.
[*]She goes through her morning routine before meditating on her gangs functions. She's apart of Vipersong, and its leader: Caspian, is the man she considers her father.
[*]Leaving home, she walks to a Temple of Sin, dedicated to the honor of former chiefs and the worship of Amartía.
[*]She mills around, pouting some history before she talks to a guy named Xan (we will see him later).
[*]She eventually makes it to her patrons base in the crypts, belonging to a man named Jorge Sealion, the richest and most influential man in Jakwela.
[*]After some talking, it is reveled that he wants Vipersong to colonize an island chain in the name of the Sealion, so he can make use of its resources. In order to do this, Jorge supplies Diana with red coral, a valuable commodity in Jakwela, in order to pay for the operation.
[/list][/hider]