As the wooden sign denoting Luinne inched closer, Jabari knew he was getting close to the crossroads. He strode on, each step crushing shrubbery and compacted mud in equal parts. His mind was a windstorm of thoughts and feelings. Memories eroded his threadbare armor and penetrated his mind’s eye. Memories of his days as a Royal Knight in service to the King and Queen. In service to his fellow brethren. The cobbled roads patrolled and labyrinth cities journeyed through and guarded. It was Jabari’s duty to ensure no one stood against his King and Queen by any means necessary. Most people thought of the Knights as a benevolent force that paraded around in plate armor as a symbol of peacekeeping and chivalry. Jabari scoffed. They couldn’t have been more wrong. 

The heft of the blade at his hip made itself known suddenly. Jabari found himself torn as he continued onwards. His sword was his most prized possession, but it also remained his most painful reminder. The ornate regalia rested within its decorative sheath proudly awaiting its moment to unleash and devour again. Jabari knew it. He could feel its pulsing desire beating right next to his heart. He glanced down at the scabbard and hilt dangling alongside his wide stride. The scabbard was leather cow hide dyed ebon with a series of three evenly spaced gold straps and buckles lining the inky exterior. A golden tip etched with a tribal design had been sown to the tip where the blade would be. The hilt matched the scabbard’s dual shades of night black and bright gold, a diamond with sharpened vertices at the hilt’s end. The blade’s crossguard had been tempered into the shape of the number eight, but on its side so it more accurately depicted the infinity symbol. 

Jabari shook his head. He could feel the bittersweet pangs nipping at his skin. He’d kept the physical manifestation of his anguish for the simple reason that he couldn’t bear to part with it. He felt there was a deeper lesson in there somewhere. Something about how a person both hated and secretly enjoyed their pain. At the very least, his mentor would have said something about as poetic. He chuckled. He missed his mentor even if he’d had no other choice than to forgo his post indefinitely. As suddenly as he’d had the memories, his absent-minded gaze saw the crossroads looming ahead. And at those crossroads, the caravan awaited. 

Jabari stopped. Used a palm like a visor over his eyes and scouted the caravan from where he stood. There were several horses and riders all surrounding a horse and cart. The cart was decorated with banners and flags and other accoutrements Jabari didn’t care for. He’d never been political even when he was a Knight. The cart was also covered by a tent of red embroidered with gold so the occupant couldn’t be seen. He scouted for any indication of his mysterious companion he was to be working with, but another interesting facet caught his eye instead. The riders surrounding the horse and cart wore chain mail and were equipped with swords and some with bows of their own. They weren’t simply servants to this unknown dignitary.  They were warriors in their own right. 

It made no sense. Why hire two mercenaries to escort a clearly well guarded occupant into Viscerium? It made no sense, but Jabari waved the thought away. All that mattered was his coin at the end of the two day journey. He started towards the caravan once more. He figured his partner would be coming along and would be easy to recognize and differentiate from everyone else. The warriors all wore the same kind of chain mail with the same colors and helmets. Jabari wondered what kind of person he was to be paired with as he neared the caravan.