Kevin Warren was an anomaly among elves. Most observed proper decorum and respect with their betters or equals. Warren, despite the fear in his features, spoke like a man convinced of his own authority.
"That's my chair," he said to Daggeuro. "Get out of it." Kathy felt her shoulders bunch up; this could go badly.
"It's my Watch, so, no," Daggeuro said with a toothy grin. "To use one of my friend Kathy's expressions, bite me." Daggeuro brought his feet down and pulled open a desk drawer, rummaging about. "Ah ha! What's this, lieutenant," he asked, flopping a pile of fliers on the desk. They had a print of Warren's smiling mug drawn on them, underscored by the words 'Vote For Change, Vote For Warren' in bold type. "I recognize the print on these. You made these with the bulletin press, didn't you?"
Warren planted his hands on his hips, reaching out to slam the door shut. He frowned at the kennin. "What of it? That dickhead Stahg bought out the other presses around here almost a year ago, when I announced my bid!"
"You're misappropriating public facilities, Warren," Daggeuro said. "I'm going to let it slide, though, because gods know you've got no other options. I've tried to suggest anti-trust laws to members of the Council, but they never get a majority."
"Wait, there's no law against monopolies here," Byron asked, writing in his notepad.
"No," Warren spat. "There isn't. Now, do you mind me asking what's going on?"
"Sure," Daggeuro said, coming around and taking the second guest chair. Warren zipped over to his chair and settled in. "We're here because of a dangerous creature in this province, known as The Chained One. Have you any familiarity with it?"
"No, can't say as I do," said Warren. Daggeuro launched into the creature's history then, followed by news of the attacks on Awakened throughout the Ether. He finished by telling Warren that King Ovin and his sages suspected that Cassius Melchar was now in Amermidst, looking to once again cause havok.
When he was done, Daggeuro waited patiently for some response from the ranking officer of Ryalt. Finally, after several minutes, he spoke. "Well, it seems to me this is a bigger issue than I can really help with, sir. I've got thirty-seven total officers in this town, and only half of them are full-time. Between assisting Rangers on the outskirts and dealing with election season bringing on fights at the mines and bars, I'm stretched too thin as it is."
"I'm not asking for bodies to help fight, just to have your men on alert," said Daggeuro. "Can they do that?"
"Of course." Warren sighed, then gave the kennin an oily grin. "Hey, you mind offering a ringing endorsement around town for yours truly? Maybe in some other villages or Linsa? That's a proper city, thousands of folks whose minds could use making up."
"Um, conflict of interest much," Kathy asked, on finger pointed up at her chin. Warren raised an eyebrow at her. "You work for him, wouldn't that kind of be obvious?"
"Lady, I don't care," Warren shot back. "I hardly need a hume telling me my business." Daggeuro was on his feet, hand a blur as he slapped Warren hard enough to knock him out of his chair. Byron and Kathy flinched back, gasping.
"Thou shalt treat even with them, fool," Daggeuro snarled, eyes glowing orange. "I'll not be involved in thy pettiness or politics! It matters not a bit which of you two carries Alsem province. Do thy job, cretin, or I'll have someone else put in thy seat." Warren got up, holding his struck cheek as it puffed redly.
Daggeuro stormed out then, Kathy hot on his heels, leaving Byron alone with the elf. "So," said Byron, notepad in hand, "you have a printing press here, eh? Good. I happen to have a typewriter."
Outside, Daggeuro wrapped around the side of the station house and vomited explosively. Kathy rubbed his neck until he could stand upright, taking his hands off of his thighs. "I'm sorry," he said. "That was awful."
"You kind of lost it up there," Kathy said. "For what it's worth, thanks for sticking up for me."
"Always," Daggeuro said, raising his snout high and taking a deep breath. "You are one of my few friends, Kathy. I will ever defend such folk." He cleared his throat and sat down a few yards away from where he'd been sick, stretching out his legs. "Where is Byron?"
"Probably interviewing Warren about the election," she said. "He's a journalist, does sports and politics. There's no leagues here, so he's likely taking what he can get." She sat down next to the kennin, took out two cans of Coke from her bag, and offered one to him.
Fifteen minutes later Byron came outside, his enchanted duffel clanging and clanking on his hip. "Well, that's the fastest I've ever gone from interview to print," he said, lighting a cigarette. He chuffed smoke. "Warren says his Ranger support guys have been talking about seeing some weird lights near Fousen Woods west of town."
"You got him to talk to you," Daggeuro asked, incredulous. "How? Warren doesn't trust humans."
"Flies, honey, blah blah blah," Byron said, flapping his hand dismissively. "Bug zappers are actually best, but that's for another time. The point is, he gave us a lead, though you might not be happy with what I had to offer him in exchange for the info."
"What did you do, Byron," Kathy asked.
"Typed him up a press release for his campaign," Byron said. "I may have thrown in a few quotes from people in Celia, yourself included," he said, pointing at Daggeuro.
"You what?" The kennin High Knight shot to his feet, fury blazing across his face. "Byron, you had no right to do that!"
"Press needs freedom to work properly," Byron replied smoothly. "Part of that is proper attribution of quotes."
"You're going to cause trouble if you do things like this too often," Daggeuro said, turning away from him. "If Stahg catches wind of this release, he's going to get in our way. We have a mission here." He faced Byron again, hands on his hips. "Did you forget why you're with us?"
"No, I didn't. Check out info on the Big Nasty, find the Big Nasty, kill the Big Nasty. That about sums it up, right? Not much different from an episode of 'Supernatural'."
"Early seasons," Kathy chimed in. "Pre-Apocalypse stuff."
"Right," Byron said. Daggeuro looked back and forth between the humans, eyes narrowed. "Something wrong, chief?"
"I'm not sure," Daggeuro muttered. "I feel like I'm going to be out of the loop on a lot of banter with you two. It's almost like when you speak with Tigger, Kathy." He helped Kathy up and cracked his knuckles loudly. "Well, we should get boarded at the inn. Ryalt only has two, the Farris Hotel and Bluejay Inn. I recommend we stick to the Farris."
"Why's that," Kathy asked.
"Because Stahg owns the Bluejay." Off they then went, to get rooms at the Farris. When they were well down the road, Warren nipped outside with one of his officers in plainclothes, a satchel full of release fliers on her back. The elven woman was directed to the stables, where she would hitch up and ride to Linsa, Alsem's most populated city. It was time to crank out the propaganda.
Councilman Stahg sat on his back porch on a cozy wicker chair, sipping iced tea as he looked over the latest numbers gathered from pollsters working on his campaign. Ryalt's figures troubled him more than anything, and he was just waiting for the breakdown report when one of his people came huffing out from the house. He was a short elven gentleman dressed in the garb of a bartender. His hair, a shock of spiky blond locks cropped close to his head, was damp from sweat, brought on by running on this unusually bright day.
"Councilman, I bring word," he huffed, taking a moment to take several long, steadying breaths. "The High Knight and two human companions are here."
"Yes, I expected they'd be coming shortly," said the fellin. He was dressed not in his usual robes of office, but rather in a fine white suit with a pink shirt and white tie, a white plantation owner's hat on his head. His feet were bare, showing his feline claws openly. "You seem more worried than you should be, Roger." The barkeep handed him a densely typed and printed sheet. "What's this, then?"
"It's a campaign ad," said Roger grimly. "Written by a real news man. I've seen his name around in a few of the bigger papers." Stahg read the byline and felt trepidation rising in his guts- 'Warren Wages War on Stahg's Stagnation'.
"Alliteration," Stahg grumbled. "Cute. It appeals to the common rabble, I suppose." He spoke dismissively, but as a politician he cringed, because the voting public was comprised mostly of said rabble. The headline alone might change some votes. As he read the piece, trepidation morphed into anger, anger into boiling fury. This Torg fellow had gathered several unfavorable impressions from known, respected people throughout the capital, as well as Warren's fellow Watchmen, and quoted them all, Sir Daggeuro included. He had also included several points of Stahg's voting record, damning information that the Watch lieutenant had undoubtedly gathered months ago.
This lone piece of paper could turn the tide of the election. It had to be stopped. Stahg had no control over the Watch's printing press, however. So long as Warren had people willing to distribute the fliers, they couldn't be stopped.
"Roger, inside the house is a woman named Juno. Fetch her for me, would you?" When the gotrin woman he'd sent for came out onto the porch, looking harried but upbeat, he said, "Juno, dear, have a seat." She did, adjusting the loose brown dress she wore. He handed her the paper and took up his tea, taking a sip before pouring her some in a glass he kept on hand for company. He said nothing for a couple of minutes, until she set the paper down on the little table between chairs. "You see my problem," he said quietly, eyes cast out over his back yard and fence.
"Yes. I've heard of this human from papers in Engelesh, to the east."
"I want him opposed," Stahg said. "I want him made a mockery of. If there's any dirt on him, I want it flung in his face. And I want it done as soon as possible, in every paper we can reach, in every province. This human," he said, saying the word with revulsion, "will learn not to trifle with me. See to it after you share a drink with me." She raised her offered glass, clinked it against his, and they sipped easily, toasting a new day in the circus of politics.
Senta sidestepped another bolt of lightning, the third flung at him in the last minute, sweeping in low on the elf casting at him. A jab-slash combo pierced the man's stomach and tore open his chest, his leather armor no match for the assassin's honed blades. Another magic wielder hurled two balls of curled fire at the gotrin, who leaped over them and landed heavily on the gnome, punching his daggers into the little man's eyes. He screamed and went limp, leaving only the assassin breathing.
He had been following Ferter out of town, trailing only a few hours behind him, when five riders came charging at him, magical energy gathering around them. Senta had not considered this obstacle when chasing the Awakened down, that he would hire assassins of his own to fight back.
The first had been a bruiser, a Husky tribe kennin who flew from his mount with axes swinging. Raw strength and heavy armor proved no match for Senta's speed and wiriness, and that one died choking on water magic blasted down his throat. The second had been an elven man trying to use illusions to cripple Senta's senses, but the gotrin had learned to blind fight and do battle without sound years ago. He fell to Senta's flying shuriken with ease.
The remaining three perished in quick succession, but Senta's horse had been slain by the gnome fire wielder, burnt to a pile of smoking sludge. The hume had timed his dispatch perfectly; Senta was too far from the town they'd left to go back for a horse, and too close behind to do anything but follow on foot, crossing paths with Rangers and specters both. The fight had drained him, and out in the flatlands, no respite would be easily forthcoming.
His gear bag, enchanted against any magic not directly aimed at it, remained intact on the horse's carcass. He pried it free and began jogging after Ferter, his destination locked in his mind. "Celia," he grunted. "Let us hope it doesn't live up to its reputation."