“Ma’am, sir we’ve got a problem.” 

	The arched headquarters of Thorne City’s Great Hall was once a thing of immense beauty. Gilded chambers carved from the insides of an enormous ironwood tree and bolstered by white marble walls. Generations of hard labor, sweat, and history was displayed here, and every nook and cranny of the structure contained rich antiquity. Statutes depicting famed council members, honored heroes both remembered and forgotten stood in rigid vigilance, while artistic works bedecked the walls with stories from long ago. Stained glass windows built cast a brilliant rainbow hue upon the polished floors, making the small horde of grim-faced gnomes look slightly less intimidating then they should have been. Still, one could not ignore the green uniformed guardsmen and mushroom constructs lying dead at their feet, or the bloodied weapons clutched in the hands of the conquerors.

	All this beauty and violence was lost on Jaron Hosth as he strode purposely through the Central Chambers themselves coming to a halt before a terrible scar in the tree’s heart. It was almost too horrific even for him, a black souled gnome who had known nothing but violence and cruelty all his life. Jaron licked his lips and turned his attention to Darmae, trying to ignore the spreading pestilence that fought the ancient tree for control.

	“A potential threat approaches, I have received word from our outlying scouts that he is on his way here to slay the council in their entirety, apparently he’s already made short work of a number military loyalists and opposition troops, with little regard to whom they serve. They call him the Hunter, and I fear there is little we can do to stop him, not with so many of our followers deployed contest any Council Loyalists.”

	“This was expected.” Darmae waved the concern away. She was relaxing on an improvised throne, her feet propped upon Mason’s back, a confident smile resting on her scarlet lips. “Setting the gangs and City Watch against one another was bound to unleash a few mighty warriors. If this Hunter is intent on slaughter the council, he will find his work already completed.”

	“Most of the council.” Jaron reminded her. “You still breathe and were a member of the council before the coup d’état, and I assume you wish to remain that way. I suggest you vacate the premises until the Hunter has satisfied himself staring at their corpses and departed. I would rather not lose half my remaining troops fighting an enemy when the conflict might be avoided altogether.”

	“NO!” A voice, emanating from nowhere, and yet everywhere at the same time interrupted their debate. Both Darmae and Jaron jumped, the latter whipping out his sword at the shocking reverberations. “I need you here, your magic is required!”

	Darmae settled back down on her morbid throne, glowering at the growing black scar tearing its way through the tree. “Scer’Pi’Kenes, you rotten git. You near scared me half to death. Still, he’s right I cannot leave, so you will just half to sacrifice a few of your gnomes. Or throw one of our other assets at him if your precious troops are too costly. Either way you will have to keep him out or convince him it is not in his best interests to assault this Chamber, if that means killing him so be it.”

	“Send John Nieve.” Scer’s voice exploded from the ether, causing both gnome and woman to flinch. “He may prove capable of such a task.”

	“Very well then. You know this John Nieve and where to find him?” Joran inclined his head that he did and Darmae clapped her hands. “Excellent, then you have your man to stop the Hunter. I wish him luck, for, if this beast is as formidable as you describe this John will surely need it. Dismissed.”

	The black hearted enforcer bowed. Turning on his heel, he marched from the high chambers, Darmae’s cackling laughter echoing in his ears.

~*~*~*~*~*~

	To say the atmosphere in the house was tense would have been an egregious understatement. If Caleb still had his sword, he probably could have cut the tension in the air. His generous host Sara, who had only ever been a nice around him was less than pleased having to accommodate John’s assigned guards-witch, and she made as much perfectly clear with a few rather passive aggressive comments about the company her eldest son kept. Though, Caleb noted, she never outright ordered this new houseguest to leave. Instead Sara busied herself working on a map of some kind, while Mary and Roger whispered in the corner. Hazel for her part seemed perfectly willing to ignore the frosty receival and Sara’s more barbed comments, wandering hither and wither as if she owned the place, always keeping one eye on Kayden.

	“Hey, um, Kayden? Could I have a word, over there?” Caleb touched the girl on the shoulder, wanting to lead her out of earshot of the others. The girl gave him a questioning look but followed him into the parlor, letting him guide her onto the azure couch. Witch Hazel kept her distance but wandered into the living space after them, admiring the twin swords hanging over the mantle.

	“I’m not certain how to say this.” Caleb began, rubbing the back of his head as he searched for the proper terminology to use. “When I questioned Jake before he got a little offended that I would even bring it up. But it has gotten to the point where I have to ask…”

	Kayden’s lips tightened into a thin line, and she shifted a little further away from Caleb, as if she did not trust whatever he was about to say next.

	“I haven’t been here for very long, and I don’t mean to pry where I shouldn’t, but I could not help noticing your father has a rather tense relationship with all the other adults here. His brother, and sister, and mother all seem rather short with him. And he uses code words, and is friends with… Strange folk? I mean, I heard him talking to Sara yesterday. He said you didn’t know anything about it, but I don’t think that’s possible. After everything I’ve seen. I was hoping you might help me understand what’s going on between them.”

	She crossed her arms, glowering at him. “No, you don’t.”

	“What?”

	“You don’t know what’s going on, and you were right before; you shouldn’t pry, its rude.” She sat up a little straighter, suspicion flashing in her eyes. “You have shown kindness to my family Caleb and saved my dad yesterday. He told me all about that, and you have my deepest thanks for it. But that does not mean you should know everything about him, and you definitely shouldn’t be asking from me. My dad is an honest man, and… And would never do anything wrong. Just because Grandma doesn’t like his friends doesn’t mean anything.”

	“Yeah that’s more or less what Jake said.”

	She nodded shortly. “Yes, and he was right.”

	Caleb raised a finger, a counterpoint already prepared. “Except, when Sara was talking to him, she declared she did not want any of his criminal coin. And when those lizards attacked, they were demanding a blood vengeance because John’s friend was a burglar.”

	“Not his friend, he told me. It was just some unfortunate person that happened across his path. He wasn’t going to let those dirty lizards kill him, even if he didn’t know him.”

	“Ah, that part is a little fuzzy.” Caleb gently touched the bruised part of his face. “But I distinctly recall John calling that random unfortunate his friend.”

	This caused Kayden’s brow to furrow, and she turned away her confidence on the issue suddenly clouded by doubt. He told her last night that the man he had saved was someone he barely knew. Why would he lie about that? “It’s a common term,” she explained slowly. “He calls everyone friend, its just how he is.”

	“You weren’t there,” Caleb continued, convinced he was winning the discussion, whatever that meant. “It wasn’t some casual term; it was actually quite powerful. He was standing up for his man and would not back down even when he was surrounded and threatened with death. Plus, the man called him boss, I heard that too. Random strangers don’t use ‘boss’ as a casual term in this city, do they?”

	The girl leapt to her feet slapping Caleb full across the face. The boy gave a startled yelp, his vision swimming as his bruises flared up once again, fresh bloodspots appearing beneath his bandaging. “Why do you hate my father!” She screamed, arms akimbo. Hazel looked startled by this sudden umbrage and rushed over. 

	Reeling from the sudden blow Caleb hissed in pain, fighting to keep from passing out. He had not realized how sensitive the injury was, or that Kayden might strike him in the first place. “I don’t hate him! I admire him and just wanted to understand what was going on.”

	“What do you want me to say?” Kayden continued, choking back tears. “Oh yeah, my daddy’s a criminal gangster who helps run one of the most dangerous syndicates in the city. Well he’s not, you understand? HE’S NOT! HE’S NOT! HE’S NOT!”

	Caleb pulled back from the raging girl, startled by the venom she was spouting. “Alright, sorry I won’t bring it up again.”

	Snorting Kayden spun around stomping from the room. Hazel stalled on her constant watch, long enough to give Caleb a piercing look. “Word of advice while you’re in Thorn kid.” She grabbed him under the jaw, gently turning his head to get a better view of his wound. “Keep your opinions to yourself, you’ll last longer.” She fished around inside a leather pouch tied to her belt producing a small purple vial which she pushed into his hand. Giving the child a farewell glare, she swept from the room after her young charge, leaving Caleb alone with his thoughts.