Ilithyia sat in her bunk, sheets curling around her body, pillow half-fallen off the bed. Her hair was, strangely enough, unbound as she glanced up at the bunk above hers, the partially empty wing leaving her alone with her thoughts. The light of false dawn shadowed the walls of the barracks, and the birds of Vienda were just waking. Ilithyia had never slept.

Why do I never get what I want? Sighing, she turned to face the wall, hand stuck under the pillow, propping it against her cheek. Her mind returned to her newest mistake; Alstair Murdoh. A flush rose to her cheeks at even the internal utterance of his name, and she grimaced at her own memory. She had made a proper fool of herself. Debating blasphemy, signing on to treason, the innuendo-laden drinks, their decadent brush of flesh across flesh… Biting her lip, she curled closer to the wall, turning her back on the evening.

Why did I listen to a word of it? Am I that desperate? The roiling turmoil that was her gut told her yes, yes you are. Dealings with demons are hardly as horrid as they sound. Ilithyia ran a hand across her cheek and down her neck, the intensity of his gaze on her skin sent her into shivers even now. Dark images flashed before her eyes, thick scenes of heat and want.

“No more of this.” She sat up, hair cascading down shoulders and back in rippling fairy knots. Muscling her way out of the sheets, Ilithyia stood in her night wear, scandalous for a woman of high society, but the simple almost-to-the-knee white tunic fit her well enough for sleeping. Quickly straightening her bed, she oozed over to the wash basin and cleaned herself up as best she could. She couldn’t look up into the mirror.

After completing her hygienic chores, Ilithyia went back to her trunk and pulled out a clean uniform. Hands caressing the coarse fabric, she marveled at it for a moment. I am a member of the Seventen. I made it. With that, she roughly donned it, sleeves and pantlegs flailing about until she was finally dressed.

“I think I’ll explore the city today.” She said quietly to the still air. I need to forget about last night, she knew was what she meant, and after gathering her haversack to her, sauntering to leave the room for the main hall.

However, as she was walking out, she saw a letter slipped under the door; it was small, and unmarked. Yet as she turned it over, there was one word on it’s toothy face; Ilithyia. Feeling the molten lead fill her insides again, she opened it, hands still but heart shaking.


Dear Madam Ilythia,

I have need of you already I am afraid. I need you to find Miss Scuro and her sister. They both may prove very useful. Set up a meeting with them at the place that we had our little talk. I will be looking forward to you proving your worth. With any luck you should be able to convince them easily. Do not mention me by name, rather use a title I received while I was in Mugroba. The Black Dragoon. Do not tell them what I look like only tell them that I wish to make them powerful with a small price, flatter them and make them feel as if we need them. I look forward to hearing how your outing goes.

Take Heart,
Alstair Murdoh.


Ilithyia wanted to burn the letter and forget the whole night ever happened. She wanted to go back to only worrying about her performance and only dreading her own face. Now she had a wolf by the tail, and she daren’t let go. Grinding her teeth, Ilithyia hated that she also wanted to see him again. It was that desire that fueled her more than anything. Alioe protect me, but I want it. Sliding the letter into her pocket, she left the building, headed towards the Chrove stables.