Lead scientist Lyr...removed from project for lack of cooperation. Rebirth...viewed to be the only...not a viable solution. Rioting in the streets...security...stay indoors. Our allies... Penlyth threaten war.

The only legible remains from a newspaper article found within the Ruins of Kela. Author unknown.

Eleius struggled to keep pace with the Claret Fangs as they marched towards the Eastern Docks. His new sword, a fine blade carved from Narcys volcanic glass, chafed against his thigh. He was relieved to see that the scholar, Ysolde, was having equal amounts of trouble.

"They set a tough pace, huh?" He smiled at her.

She seemed to be a dignified woman. He judged that she was in her late forties. She had a slender build, wild silver hair, and a slight crook to her back. She smiled back at him, wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead with slender fingers.

"They certainly do, although a young man like yourself has no excuse to be out of breath." She shot him a wolfish smile.

"Well, I can only blame my lifestyle, dear lady."

They walked on in silence for a few minutes, ignoring Kaler's barked orders for them to hurry up. Ysolde was paying their wages after all, and Eleius wasn't part of this operation.

"What can you tell me about Kela?" Eleius asked. He figured it would be worthwhile finding some story material as they travelled.

"It's a pile of shattered elderglass and crumbling rocks. To most people, anyway."

He waited for her to continue, then realised she didn't intend to add anything to her comment.

"Well, what is it to you? I can tell you're not most people."

"I don't know exactly," she sighed. "That's the entire point of this expensive expedition, young man. All I can tell you is that it's a building from roughly seven hundred years ago."

"Before the disaster," he mused to himself. The disaster was not openly talked about, as it unnerved most people. It was an uncomfortable subject. Nobody had been able to determine what had caused the disaster; all they knew was that it had destroyed most of the structures, along with most of the human inhabitants of the continent.

"What do you know about the disaster?" she snorted.

"Not as much as I would like to," he admitted.

"Well, that makes two of us."

"What do you make of the difference in structures?" Eleius asked. "Why are some of them made of elderglass and stone, while others are whiteplate or rockwood?"

"Different regions? Just look at the difference between the hollowed out structures in Narcys and the stilted buildings in Gielis. The climates may have been different at the time of building them, and they may have been built to fit the weather." Ysolde paused for a moment, a curved finger touching the side of her mouth. "Either that or they're from different time periods. I really couldn't say without more evidence."

Eleius pulled out his notebook and scribbled a quick reminder. Two theories worth writing about.

"Hoy! We need to cut off-road here. Try and keep up will you?" Kaler pointed towards a narrow path that wound through an oak forest.

"He's not even a little bit out of breath," Eleius sighed.

They caught up with the mercenaries and entered the shaded woods.

Eleius and Ysolde were heaving gulps of air into their burning lungs. Neither scribe nor scholar were cut out for adventuring. At least it was cooler in the shade cast by the aged branches overhead than it had been on the open road. They followed the path that wound endlessly between gnarled oaks. The babbling river and the playful chirping of birds and woodland insects would have been relaxing, if it wasn't for the unwelcome exercise. The mercenaries chatted amongst themselves, mercilessly poking fun at one another. Eleius was too exhausted to join in, or to continue his conversation with Ysolde. His focus was a simpler one: breathing. After another hour or so of walking, the patchwork of trees began to thin. They emerged on to a large plain. The grass was knee-high, and there were no visible paths; it was clear that the area had seen little foot traffic for a long while. Ahead of them were the ruins of Kela. The ruins were a collection of small stone buildings clustered around a tower, which sprouted from the earth like a proud sentinel of times long forgotten. Large blocks of stone had fallen from the heights of the tower and forced themselves into the soft earth at the base, creating platforms which rose from the grass at irregular angles. As they approached the base of the tower, Eleius hopped up to rest on one of the blocks, dangling his legs over the edge. He took another glance at the structure. Large panes of elderglass, most of them shattered, circled the tower at evenly-spaced intervals. Viewing platforms, he supposed. He looked at the smaller buildings and wondered what their function had been. It gave the impression of a very small ghost town; moss-covered stone and dusty, cracked panes of glass. He heard Ysolde's sharp voice directing the mercenaries. Her physical exhaustion had been smothered by intellectual curiosity. Eleius lay down on the platform and drifted off while the others argued the details.

"Scribe!" Kaler boomed. "We're going in. Are you coming, or not? Seems a bit pointless to accompany us just for a little nap!"

"Indeed," Eleius yawned. He brushed a string of saliva from his mouth with his sleeve. "Let's explore." He joined the others at the tower entrance. Lumps of rubble had been pulled to one side, clearing a path to the tall doors. They appeared to be made out of glass, and were partially open. Eleius did not see a handle to shut them, which he found immediately peculiar. Kaler entered first, his shield and longsword raised. The mercenaries seemed on edge; perhaps they had found trouble in similar ruins. The memory of his mistakes with the Crooked Knives washed over him. He made a solemn promise to himself to be more careful this time. Eleius followed the Fangs and Ysolde into the ancient structure.

The scent brought back a strange nostalgia. Somehow the air was thick and musty, despite the shattered windows which must have let fresh air in. All dead buildings smell the same. The silence was heavy enough to be unsettling. Eleius noticed a prominent metallic desk by the main stairwell. It seemed too well-crafted to have been made by mortal hands. The ceilings were high and vaulted, with strange lines running towards ornaments of hanging crystal. They almost looked like vines, but their precise nature suggested that they were man-made. The remains of what were once potted plants flanked the intricate columns along the centre of the room. It almost looked like an inn, but why would it be so large? Where were all the tables and chairs? It made no sense. The mercenaries formed a tight wedge, weapons drawn. Kaler took point, shield raised instinctively. Judging by his collection of ragged scars, it was safe to say he had learned caution the hard way. Baby-faced Marn took the right, his greataxe held menacingly in both hands. The quiet fencer Velin took the left, his rapier held so casually he almost seemed nonchalant. Eleius made a mental note to extract a story or two from Velin before the trip was over; the quiet ones were always hiding secrets. Nira held her bow ready, protected by the other three mercenaries. Despite her role as archer, she seemed the fiercest of the lot, and in no great need of protection; the cruel, curved dagger on her belt silently attested to that. Ysolde and Eleius followed hesitantly as the mercenaries searched every silent nook and crumbling cranny on the ground floor.

"Clear," Kaler announced. He joined Marn at the main staircase. Even the staircase was unusual; gilded metal rails followed the stairs up on either side. The steps themselves were made of a dark stone marred by flecks of white, with a thin line of ripped and faded red fabric running up the centre. Nira and Velin watched the entrance as the scholar began her investigation.

Ysolde carefully rubbed dust between the two fingers of her glove, measuring the consistency. She wiped her finger along the column again and deposited the dust into a small vial.

"Have we got enough dust yet?" Eleius leaned against the opposing column.

"You wanted to tag along," Nira pointed out with a smirk.

"Precisely. I'm not going to tell you again, scribe. Stop leaning against the artifacts!" Ysolde hissed.

Eleius complied with a smirk of his own, wandering over towards the metal desk. Ysolde had carried out her laborious process on every single item in the room. Eleius could hardly take the boredom; he would have to make some grand exaggerations to turn this into a marketable tale. As he approached the desk, his eye was caught by a bundle of white against the dusty black flooring. It was scattered on the floor, as if it had fallen from the desk.

"Hey Ysolde," he called. "If you can tear yourself away from that fascinating dust for a moment, I think I might have found something worthwhile."

He bent down to pick up the stack of paper, but was stopped by a swift swat from Ysolde.

"Don't. Touch. Anything!" she seethed.

Eleius shrugged and wandered back towards the staircase.

"Just trying to help," he said.

Kaler and Marn seemed were having a heated, quiet discussion.

"Scribe," Kaler said, as he stalked over. He prodded Eleius in the chest with his shield.

"Remember our talk about not getting in the way?"

Eleius nodded.

"Well, you're getting in the damn way! You know how sensitive these scholar types are. If you ruin our commission, it'll come from your own pocket!"

Eleius nodded again. He just did not seem to get on with mercenaries. He drifted back over towards Ysolde, but she was poring over the bound sheets of paper, dead to the outside world. He sat cross-legged on the floor, the one place he was sure to do no harm.

"This could be it!" Ysolde exclaimed, after what felt like an unreasonably long wait.

"Care to fill us in, Miss Scholar?" Eleius yawned theatrically. "Any story will do. Don't care how boring it might be."

Ysolde was too excited to shoot him a venomous look. Small blessings.

"It seems to be a form of news journal!" she said. "A lot of it's badly faded, so I'm assuming it's from before the last disaster."

"And what news does this ancient rag bring?"

"Well, for one thing, I've never seen ink like this before. It seems too perfect to be written by hand. That's one mystery, already."

"We've got enough mysteries, Ysolde," Nira sighed. "Any answers?"

Eleius was surprised by this; he had never heard of a mercenary being interested by scholarly pursuits. Most tended to live in the moment and were concerned only with their commission.

"Enough, Nira!" Kaler said, the command in his voice clear. "She's a client."

Eleius tried hard to suppress a laugh; it manifested as a smirk, which Nira unfortunately noticed.

"We'll talk later, Scribe," she hissed as she stalked back towards the front door.

Ysolde continued with her musings, apparently ignorant to all conversation.

"Even the parts that aren't faded are difficult to read," she mumbled. "It appears to be a form of... Felan? No, Crontish. Definitely Crontish."

"I would have thought you would know a little Crontish, Ysolde," Eleius interjected, more for his own amusement than anything else.

"Yes," she sighed, hearing him by some miracle. "I think this must be a regional variation. I've never seen the like before, but some words are familiar." She was silent for a few moments before she continued. "It appears to be some kind of warning about the ground moving."

"What kind of nonsense is that?" Nira asked. A sharp look from Kaler shut her up quickly enough.

Eleius decided he liked the lady archer.

"An earthquake?" Eleius said, his mind suddenly engaged. "Could that be the cause of the disaster?"

"Could be," Ysolde agreed. "It's far from conclusive, though. We don't even know who wrote this piece. It certainly warrants further research though." She placed the paper in her travel bag and cushioned it with spare clothes. "Now, on to the other floors."

"We'll be here forever," Eleius said. "Did you see how many floors there are?"

"We can only hope some of the upper floors are blocked, scribe," Nira grinned. "Otherwise, this is our life now."

Nira had been proven right. After a slow exploration of the next three floors, they had arrived on the fifth floor to find that the staircase had collapsed entirely. Removing the rubble was pointless, as most of the stairs were missing. There would be no way to climb up. All of the upper floors held thin, winding corridors with countless doors leading to small chambers. Some of the doors were blocked by rubble that had fallen through from the upper floors, but as every accessible chamber appeared identical, Ysolde did not insist on checking every one. The small chambers were decorated with decaying carpets of indistinct colour, peeling paper decorations on the walls, and compact beds. Each chamber also contained a box facing the bed, with more of the mysterious black lines protruding from the back. Ysolde had been fascinated by these contraptions, but could not get a single one to work, despite pressing urgently at the prominent button on the front. The only other significant discovery had been more bundles of paper, however they had generally been in rooms which had been exposed to the elements, and the writing had been ravaged by mould. They were impossible to read. Eleius wandered from one generic chamber to the next as he waited for Ysolde to announce their return to Tresil. Something had been bothering him about the rooms. His mind finally clicked as he watched the mercenaries follow Ysolde along the main hallway. He stepped out of the chamber and called to her.

"Ysolde!" She turned to face him. "Where are all the bodies?"

"What do you mean?" Ysolde asked.

"Well, this appears to be a massive inn, yes?"

"That would be my guess."

"So, you would assume people would be constantly staying in here, including the time of the disaster, if those papers are anything to go by. Why are there no skeletons?"

Ysolde spent a few minutes staring into space before she replied.

"That's a surprisingly useful observation, scribe. I'm afraid I don't know the answer. Perhaps the disaster obliterated all human remains?" She went into the complex world of her mind again for a few moments. Eleius knew better than to interrupt.

"But then, why would the buildings be merely damaged, and not completely destroyed?" Ysolde mused.

"I only have the question, not the answer," Eleius sighed.

"It certainly warrants further research," Ysolde said. "Might be worth adding to your tale - it might catch the eyes of other scholars."

Eleius decided he would. This story had the potential to sell more copies than the Glass Tomb. It was less action-packed, but the mysteries were enough of a selling point on their own. He took out his travel pad and scribbled a few quick reminders. Ysolde continued her search as the Claret Fangs tailed her with unshakeable vigilance.

Finally, the order came. Ysolde now seemed as weary as Eleius.

"Better head back to Tresil," she said, wearing a smile of contentment on her face.

Nira perked up at the news. They descended the endless stairs and finally arrived in the ground floor lobby. Kaler pushed open the front door, allowing the sounds of nocturnal insects to filter into the silent building. Eleius was relieved to be leaving the decaying building. A sharp twang violated the tranquillity of night. Kaler barely had time to raise his shield before an arrow bounced off with a harsh metallic clang. It had been aimed expertly; if not for his shield, it would surely have pierced an eye.

"Back!" Kaler bellowed.

He used brute strength to slide the two halves of the doors closed and retreated a couple of steps. Marn moved up to stand beside Kaler, his axe raised. Velin swept quickly behind the front door, ready to ambush whoever entered. Nira shoved Eleius and Ysolde behind a pillar, then took up a position beside the next pillar, ready for cover if she needed it. She nocked an arrow and held the string taut, aiming towards the door. All was silent for what felt like a lifetime. Then they heard the muffled thuds behind them.

"Ambush!" Ysolde shrieked.

She ran towards the main doors. Eleius followed her, drawing his sword. For all the good it will do me, he thought. The attackers sprang swiftly from the main staircase, throwing themselves towards the group. Nira's arrow caught one in the chest, sinking him immediately. Kaler rushed forward to provide a defensive wall for the archer. He deflected two swift dagger strikes with his shield before Marn's cruel axe crushed the assailant's skull. Three more figures appeared beside the main stairway. They did not rush forwards like the others; perhaps they were weighing up their options. They were dressed in a dark uniform: ragged cloaks, hoods which obscured their faces, tights and soft leather boots. They were clearly dressed for stealth. Assassins of some kind? Eleius watched as the new group of three split. One rushed down the middle, directly towards Kaler and Marn; he weaved to dodge Nira's arrow, clearly learning from the mistake of his dead companion. As he closed with Kaler, the other two assassins appeared from the sides, having used the distraction to wind their way behind the pillars. Marn took a slash to his left arm. His axe clattered to the floor. He bellowed in fury, grabbed his assailant and smashed his forehead into its hooded face. The assassin stumbled back, before being caught in the throat by Nira's next arrow. As blood spurted from the assassin's throat, she let out a gurgling laugh. Eleius watched as Kaler parried knife slashes and stabs with his shield and sword. The old mercenary had considerable skill. Marn picked up his axe with shaking hands and threw himself back into the fray. Eleius no longer had time to observe; the glass doors shattered, and another assassin slipped through. He padded towards Kaler. He had failed to notice Ysolde and Eleius, who were crouched behind the door. Velin had moved away from the door to engage two opponents who had hopped down from a ledge below the ceiling. He was keeping them at bay with lightning-quick rapier thrusts. Eleius realised that he had to handle this one himself. He crept forwards and raised his sword. The assassin spun around with incredible speed, but it was already too late. Eleius brought his sword down in a clumsy two-handed slash. The blade bit deep into the assassin's shoulder. The man hissed in pain as he fell to his knees. Dark blood spurted from the wound. The assassin swiped his daggers at Eleius but he lacked range. Eleius tried to free his sword, but he did not have the strength to do so after such a deep cut. The attacker finally went limp and crumpled to the ground. Eleius continued to tug at his sword. By the time he managed to wrench it free, the Claret Fangs had dispatched the remaining attackers.

Kaler stormed over to Ysolde.

"You unharmed?"

She gave a trembling nod. Her face was white with shock. Kaler looked at the scribe, his eyes lingering on the bloodied sword in his hand.

"Good work, scribe," he said. "That was too damn close."

"Who are they?" Marn said. He scratched his arm.

"None that I recognise," Nira replied.

While Kaler had been checking on their client, Nira had removed the hoods from each assassin. The mercenaries, scholar and scribe all took their turn examining the corpses.

"Anyone familiar?" Kaler asked.

Everyone shook their heads, except Eleius. He knelt down beside the corpse of a young man.

"This doesn't make any sense," Eleius whispered.

Kaler waited for him to continue but Eleius was lost in his thoughts.

"Fill us in, Scribe," Kaler said. "Don't know how long we have here. Who's the corpse?" Eleius turned to meet Kaler's eyes.

"I don't know his name, but I used to see him walking around the noble quarter in Narcys. Judging by his age, I would say he's a noble son, perhaps an heir."

Eleius left out the rest of the story; he would never forget the face that had stolen her from him. He stoppered his emotions, bottling them up deep inside, as he realised that one of the other dead, bloody faces was hers.

"Why would a noble son be attacking us?" Kaler asked. "Does anyone have any enemies in Narcys?"

"Plenty," Nira muttered. "But none of them are nobles."

The others remained silent.

"Let's head back," Kaler said. "Stay in formation, Fangs."

They found no more trouble on their way back to Tresil. As they approached the town, Marn began to weep uncontrollably. It was bizarre to see such a large, seasoned warrior breaking down to the point of tears. He had been scratching at his wound and grunting in pain as they walked.

"Is your arm numb, Marn?" Velin asked.

"Aye," he grunted. "But I got pains everywhere else. What the hell did they do to me?"

"Poison," Velin said. "We need to get him to a physick immediately. Did anyone else get cut?"

Everyone shook their heads.

"I have a friend who's a physick in the old town," Ysolde said. "Follow me."

Fear shone in her eyes. She did not want to be responsible for Marn's death. Kaler lifted the large man over his shoulder, as if he were no heavier than a child, and jogged after Ysolde.