3rd of Glade
The world had ended.
The city’s Shokaze died. His son abducted. A white wedding turned red.
Urs hadn’t gone. He hadn’t any interest in the social lives of the Kalzasi’s elite. Or, he hadn’t.
Then the arrests began. Rumors of Zaichaer involvement. Any and everyone suspected of being involved was rounded up for questioning. He’d been forced to stop his own investigations into the Covens. Urs had dismissed Toothless. He wouldn’t be reaching out to Imogen or Carina, not now. The risk was too great.
For them. For him.
The portal network had been compromised. The Tower of Spells had reported it.
The portal network he’d planned to use, to reach Zaichaer. Now, that avenue was close to him. And, with the active searches being conducted he wasn’t sure he’d be able to continue looking for clues about whatever family he supposedly had. The Grymalka wouldn’t be so easily found. And now, with the growing threat of war between the two cities, Urs was worried he’d never find them.
It would be easier to speak here, truthfully. The outskirts of Kalzasi were patrolled, but by lesser guards, and the people who visited the Spinning Coin were far more interested in the shine of future gold than anything he would say. He’d written to Agatha at the end of Frost - he hadn’t been able to use the portals to reach her but there were still couriers.
There hadn’t been much in the way of explanation. Not that she’d need it - she’d know what he wanted to speak about, what his worries were.
Urs waited in a corner, with two mugs of frothy ale. It wasn’t especially to his liking but it allowed a wider view of the tavern. The people gambling and laughing and drinking. The two of them would catch anyone trying to listen in to their conversations well before they were able to hear much of anything too damning.
All Urs had to do was wait - and hope that Agatha came.
The city’s Shokaze died. His son abducted. A white wedding turned red.
Urs hadn’t gone. He hadn’t any interest in the social lives of the Kalzasi’s elite. Or, he hadn’t.
Then the arrests began. Rumors of Zaichaer involvement. Any and everyone suspected of being involved was rounded up for questioning. He’d been forced to stop his own investigations into the Covens. Urs had dismissed Toothless. He wouldn’t be reaching out to Imogen or Carina, not now. The risk was too great.
For them. For him.
The portal network had been compromised. The Tower of Spells had reported it.
The portal network he’d planned to use, to reach Zaichaer. Now, that avenue was close to him. And, with the active searches being conducted he wasn’t sure he’d be able to continue looking for clues about whatever family he supposedly had. The Grymalka wouldn’t be so easily found. And now, with the growing threat of war between the two cities, Urs was worried he’d never find them.
--
The Spinning Coin, The Low City
The Spinning Coin, The Low City
It would be easier to speak here, truthfully. The outskirts of Kalzasi were patrolled, but by lesser guards, and the people who visited the Spinning Coin were far more interested in the shine of future gold than anything he would say. He’d written to Agatha at the end of Frost - he hadn’t been able to use the portals to reach her but there were still couriers.
There hadn’t been much in the way of explanation. Not that she’d need it - she’d know what he wanted to speak about, what his worries were.
Urs waited in a corner, with two mugs of frothy ale. It wasn’t especially to his liking but it allowed a wider view of the tavern. The people gambling and laughing and drinking. The two of them would catch anyone trying to listen in to their conversations well before they were able to hear much of anything too damning.
All Urs had to do was wait - and hope that Agatha came.