Ascendancy

*This story is a work-in-progress AU set in Ginger's Bisyl universe and featuring characters by her and Tilan. Please note that though this story is canon in Jasper's lore, it isn't canon (unless otherwise noted) in Bisyl lore or regarding Tilan's characters. Any events that occur in this story should be taken as canonical regarding Jasper, yet AU otherwise.*

*With all that said, enjoy.*

## **Chapter I: Extraction**

***Fort Ortano** - Estreti Prison Fortress*

Jasper stood by the cell door, his face concealed behind a mask of bone and steel as he leaned against his glaive. Struggling to ignore the oppressive atmosphere - screams of despair echoing from behind winding corridors of stone and obsidian, the murky smell of ash and stagnant air, and the ever-constant sound of guards marching between cells, their footfalls an endless, militaristic drone - Jasper ran his plan over and over in his head, trying to shut out the ruthless monotony of Fort Ortano.

*“Comfortable?” the robed Justiciar asked with a frigid edge of snide irony, glancing up from his steaming plate of fine roast hen to the prisoner in rags, hanging from iron shackles on the rack. The scribe’s quill scratched on the parchment as he transcribed the Justiciar’s quip, putting to record the start of the questioning.*

The horn blared, sending Jasper back to reality as a deep, guttural call echoed throughout the cavernous halls, a cry that rumbled the floors and shook the ceilings. The drone of marching continued, more pronounced, as the guards shifted posts and took up ranks. He maintained his position, waiting before the barred cell door as a row of soldiers walked past him, escorting a reinforced, triple-locked, boxy darksteel cart through the hall. Jasper paused, steeled himself, and joined their ranks, following behind an escort guard who hefted a heavy lance as they walked.

The leader turned, facing the new arrival. “This isn’t your post,” they said, their voice baritone and echoing beneath the faceplate of their helmet. “Carry on with your schedule.”

Jasper remained silent. The leader raised their hand swiftly, signaling to stop the carriage. The guards leading it came to a halt.

“Did you not hear me? It’s none of your concern,” the leader rumbled, walking up to the guard briskly. “Remain on your schedule.”

Jasper continued his silence, hefting his glaive and fidgeting with the shaft instinctively.

“Put that down before you hurt yourself. Return to your post.”

The guard in front of him, carrying the lance, turned slowly and leveled the wickedly sharp point at the stubborn arrival’s chest. Jasper drew breath sharply but maintained his position.

“Your post. Now.”

Jasper stepped forward. He swung his glaive off his shoulder, holding it at his side - a clear threat.

“By Eldryn, I’ll have your head-” the leader growled.

Jasper darted to the side, driving his glaive upward and knocking the lance away. Slamming the base of the shaft into the leader’s chest and splitting their helmet, he maneuvered around the remaining soldiers and darted between them as they sliced wildly, howling. Blood splattered onto the cobblestones as a stray slash grazed Jasper’s arm, yet he maintained the fury of his strikes as he incapacitated them, knocking them unconscious and driving them to the ground.

Jasper’s heart pounded as he heard more begin to arrive, rushing through the halls and running to face him. Quickly, he reached for one of the guards’ warhammers, hefting it with all the strength he could muster and slamming it into the side of the cart. Although it scuffed the locked metal door, it barely bent under the force of the strike, and neither did the heavy padlocks - much to his annoyance.

The voice in his head snorted sardonically. *Oh, bless your heart. It’s reinforced darksteel. And you’re a twig.*

*I didn’t ask for your input,* Jasper thought, annoyed, as he slammed the warhammer into the cart again. Thin scuffed lines appeared on the darksteel surface as the impact scratched it, but it didn’t give at all.

*Do you want my help or not?* The voice replied to Jasper’s remark, sounding almost bored. Five more guards began to rush through the hallway.

*That would be a ‘not,’* Jasper thought in response. The guards drew closer, lifting their spears.

*Then you’ll die a very independent and painful death.* The voice shot back sardonically. *What, you think you’re some kind of hero? Shut up and start casting.*

Jasper sighed as the sigil on his right hand illuminated a brilliant orange, searing into his skin. He grasped the wound on his arm, and the blood boiled at his touch.

He traced a luminous circle onto the door with two fingers, swirling with red and orange as the ring shimmered and warped. The ring’s interior warped outward and became translucent for a split second as Jasper reached for his glaive and dove through the portal, hitting the floor. As the ring faded and sealed over, he felt the cart rock as the soldiers outside tried to breach it to no avail.

*You see? I can be helpful, can’t I? You know you love me,* the voice responded.

*I hate you,* Jasper thought as his eyes adjusted to the cramped, dark carriage interior. Pristine and well-maintained, with a small locked iron safe chest sitting strapped to the floor. Jasper drew a sharp sica blade from his sheath, severing the leather straps. He lifted the lock box, stuffing it in his backpack and swinging it onto his back. The guards continued the fury of their strikes, driving their weapons into the door repeatedly with deafening clangs.

*Well, well, well. That was easy. So what do you say? Cast your way out of here?* the voice said eagerly. *After all, magic is a stable system with no danger or side effects whatsoever.*

*I’ve never heard a more wildly incorrect sentence,* Jasper replied. *You want me to feed you again and you know it.*

The voice chuckled. *What’s wrong with a bit of casting? All proceeds go to the nice friend in your head. And you’ll be rid of me soon enough.*

The cart began to roll.

*Pesky thief in your triple-locked darksteel transport cart stealing your void helm, and Fort Ortano neglected to give you a key because it’s oh, so secret? Solution: keep the thief in the cart and return them both to a cell. It’s that easy!* The voice prattled on and on as the cart rumbled down the hallway, picking up alarming speed as the guards shouted to each other to push it along.

*I’m not casting my way out of this again,* Jasper muttered mentally as the cart slammed into a wall, sending him colliding painfully against the floor of the cramped interior with a groan of pain. The voice in his head laughed as the metallic screeching of a cell door swinging shut echoed all around him. Heavy footsteps on cobblestone pounded outside the carriage, all but directly confirming to Jasper that the guards were indeed waiting outside to strike.

*That may be necessary,* the voice protested. *Look, you did it to get in here, now you have to get yourself out.*

*And get killed by the guards?*

*Look, do you think I care if you die?* The voice remarked snidely. *You have no idea how boring it is trapped in your head while you starve me of magic. Do you think I like it in here cozied up to all your Zylrie fantasies? Forget about it. Just cast already or I get out early.*

*So that’s what this is about, isn’t it?*

*It’s mutually assured survival, Embertide, for now.*

A key rattling in its lock echoed through the cart, and a guard standing outside flung the door open with a sharp clang. Jasper leaped to his feet, slicing forward with the glaive - staggering the guard outside as the blade sliced into his shield - and vaulted out of the cramped carriage, into a cavernous, expansive chamber. He swept his glaive in a wide arc, but a broadsword flashed, and the weapon was quickly hacked in two, reduced to a single blade and harmless splinters clattering across the cobblestones.

“He has the helm! Kill him! Now!” one of the guards shouted, swinging for Jasper’s head. He quickly crouched and whirled his backpack around, the heavy metal lockbox blocking the vicious blow. The blade scraped a ragged line through the fabric as Jasper drew his sica, slashing wildly and pushing against a stab from behind with a surge of adrenaline.

*You’re outnumbered,* the voice pointed out as Jasper vaulted up and onto the top of the cart, a stray spear strike piercing through the side of his left leg and causing him to howl in pain. Kicking away the attacker and bringing down the sica’s curved point on his head, a warhammer blow to the shoulder knocked him from the cart, sending him slipping on the bloodstained metal surface and falling onto the wall of iron bars behind him with a sickening crunch.

*Brutal,* the voice blurted, laughing maniacally as Jasper’s world spun. *Okay. So you’re not willing to cast. Regretting that yet?*

Jasper clutched his wound as the guards advanced, quickly tracing a sharp line through the air. The blood stayed suspended in midair as if he were drawing on an invisible surface, crimson droplets sliding and coalescing into icy shards of dark glass, all in a fraction of a second.

He closed his fist quickly, and the line exploded forth, sending a frigid shockwave that sent the guards shooting backward, taking the cart with them. As they shattered the cobblestones in the back of the cavernous cell and whirled out into the air, an icy wind hit Jasper as he looked out onto an immense drop, then an endless expanse of tundra.

*He trudged through the snowdrifts, the air whistling by as he looked out on Wrenscale set aflame. He heard the distant screaming, the clashing of swords, the sounds of war as the prison fell apart, razed to the ground by hundreds of soldiers who neither knew nor cared about his existence, much less whether or not he lived, yet they had done him an immense kindness by their acts.*

*He continued pressing forward, turning back around, and continuing the trudge toward the horizon.*

Jasper’s heart pounded in his ears. He could feel the aboleth's amusement creeping through its voice as it spoke.

*You see? We have this under control.*

His wounds began to slowly close with searing pain as he cast again, though Jasper took little solace - it only meant the aboleth was getting stronger with every spell. It stole the void left behind from any energy he outpoured, leeching off the excess magic, and filling the tears in his life force.

He struggled to his feet, the pain fading fast. He heard footsteps pounding behind him, the clanking of armor, a key rattling in a lock.

Jasper didn’t need to turn. He knew from the cacophony of shouting, and the dozens of footsteps pounding the cobblestones, that if he may have been outnumbered before, now he definitely was.

Instead, he looked out on the drop before him, watching the rubble crumble and plummet down toward the deep drifts of snow.

*Yes. Yes, I quite like this,* the voice said, quite pleased with the thoughts forming in Jasper’s mind.

Jasper hefted the backpack.

“Hands up, scum. Weapon down. You’re outnumbered twenty to one.” The guard’s voice echoed in his helmet, deep and almost alien.

Jasper sighed, steeling himself.

He sheathed his blade.

Looked over the edge, down to the deep snowdrifts hundreds of feet below.

And leaped.

“And you’re convinced he escaped?” Sandscale inquired, almost astonished. “And the helm is *unequivocally* no longer within Estreti possession?”

“There’s no doubt,” Hadwin replied gravely. “We tried to apprehend him as he fled. There was a brief altercation, then he ran, and we tracked him to just north of Khalect before his trail went cold.”

Sandscale sighed, though his snakelike silver mask betrayed no emotion. “And what of when you returned to Ortano?”

“No news. As far as any of us know, Embertide has the helm.”

“I find that rather unlikely, Mr. Andvari. As impetuous as our inimical friend can be, I highly doubt he’s working alone. And as for association with a faction of any sort, as far as we’ve discerned, it wouldn’t be within Embertide’s interests to involve himself directly in Bisylean political matters. Furthermore, I doubt he has the foresight to handle them,” Sandscale mused, pacing back and forth. “Which leaves... mercenary work. Which we’ve established he has an extensive record in.”

“So who would hire him?”

“Certainly not the Eldric, nor the Medisylean ascendancies. Embertide seems to harbor an aversion to aiding political agendas. And I highly doubt Sutepp or any of the western tribes even know of the helm’s existence, much less its location. That leaves freelancers. However, I would assume most draw their sources from folklore and legend, and the helm’s… more of an unattainable symbol to them, the ultimate treasure hunt per se, judging from prior experience.”

“Quite a mystery, then,” Hadwin replied, watching as Sandscale put the pieces together.

“Not in the slightest. Embertide may be an effective thief, yet he’s considerably imprudent in the realm of cloak-and-dagger. Stealing is one thing, concealing your tracks is quite another matter. And from what you’ve informed me about the heist proper, and my investigations into Embertide and his affiliates, that leaves one conclusion.”

“...And that is?”

“The bounty must have been provided by an impartial party, covertly. One unaffiliated with anyone but themself. One with knowledge and discernment enough to distinguish fact from legend, yet still retain enough fascination with the eldritch to come upon it in the first place. One with familiarity in such matters, and with prior connections to Embertide, planar travel, *and* the mercenary field.” Sandscale kept pacing, shrewdly assembling his case.

“So that means…”

Sandscale smiled coldly. “That means it’s time to pay a visit to a certain Havokin Gladyl.”

## **Chapter II: The Proselyte**

*"Is something wrong?” Harbinger Kalistria asked, intrigued by Jasper’s silence as she glanced over the rim of her polished crystal glass.*

*“No, nothing,” Jasper replied hurriedly, glancing around. “Just, er… lost in the spectacle. This sort of thing wasn’t exactly commonplace in Blackbird Point,” he finished, replacing his nervousness with a self-assured smile.*

*“Yes, it is rather amazing,” Kalistria responded, looking out into the crowd. A bard onstage played a lilting, melancholy melody on her violin as the patrons milled about the ballroom, adorned in glimmering jewels and exotic metals that caught the low light hypnotically.*

*“You’re amazing,” Jasper replied, knowing all too well how his compliments worked on the well-to-do of the Zhentor. Kalistria laughed warmly, never breaking her sophisticated demeanor.*

*“Flattery will get you far, Mr. Embertide,” Kalistria replied, a faint blush appearing on her face. “And the Conclave always attracts the best and brightest. That, I take it, is why you’re here.” She smiled coyly to Jasper as the bard finished her melody, winning a standing ovation from the patrons in the stage area.*

*“I have a favor to ask,” Jasper said, lowering his voice as a pair of guests passed them. “I’m looking for an Eladrin girl. Her name’s Aeryn.”*

*“Your girlfriend?” Kalistria asked, unsurprised and seemingly slightly disappointed, though she composed herself quickly. “I haven’t seen an Aeryn. At least, not here at the Conclave.”*

*Jasper shook his head, smiling. “Just a friend, actually. She used to work with the Zhentor. Said you were an associate of hers.”*

*Kalistria brushed a loose strand of hair behind one of her pointed ears. “You forget yourself, Mr. Embertide, just enjoy the celebration,” she replied, gesturing to the dancing Zhentor patrons in their finery.*

*Jasper sighed. “Well, thank you for the pleasure of your company,” he finished, composing himself quickly and smiling.*

*“And I’m equally grateful for yours, Mr. Embertide,” Kalistria replied, setting down her goblet on a polished dining table and holding out her velvet-gloved hand to Jasper. “May I?” she asked as a short half-orc bard onstage began playing a bright ballad on a harpsichord.*

*Jasper took her hand and the two walked out into the ballroom, disappearing into the throngs of exquisitely adorned guests as they swayed to the melody. Struggling desperately to maintain his charismatic demeanor, he led with his right hand, quickly slipping the sealed parchment contract out of Kalistria’s pocket into his own with his left. He sighed with relief, his sleight of hand apparently having gone unnoticed.*

*“Are you alright?” Kalistria asked, intrigued. “You’re quite the enigma.”*

*Instinctively, possibly subconsciously, Kalistria reached for the left pocket of her dress, all but directly confirming to Jasper that her letter was indeed worth something. Jasper, thinking fast, diverted her attention with another question. “So, er, how did you come to the Conclave?”*

*“Like any of us: the Zhentor thought I was worth something. They thought me in particular worthy through my ties to the nobility. And, apparently, they considered me naturally charismatic. Useful in that regard,” Kalistria finished.*

*“Amazing it took them this long to realize that,” Jasper responded as the two continued to sway back and forth, surrounded by the rest of the guests. Kalistria turned a faint shade of pink, before shaking her head dismissively.*

*“Mr. Embertide, when I said flattery would get you far in the Conclave, I wasn’t necessarily encouraging-“*

*“Please, call me Jasper. And it isn’t flattery, it’s fact.”*

*“Well, Jasper, that’s very kind, but I don’t see why you feel the need for all this,” she asked, perplexed. “You don’t strike me as someone who merely desires my appraisal.”*

*“Would you care to follow me for a minute, Ms. Corilian?” Jasper replied as they danced, rather enjoying playing at being pretentious. Kalistria laughed warmly in reply, looking slightly giddy.*

*“That depends. I haven’t been as easily charmed as you might think,” Kalistria responded. “Besides, they’d get the wrong idea, and I’d never hear the end of it.”*

*“The Conclave is distinguished by its secrecy,” Jasper replied, tilting his head toward Kalistria as they swayed past an aarakocra in a red waistcoat.*

*“Jasper, I’m not one of your… lovesick fools who would blindly follow someone half-decent with words anywhere despite how it would ruin them. I have standards, you know,” Kalistria shot back, visibly uncomfortable.*

*Jasper faltered, at a loss for words.*

*“Are you quite alright?” Kalistria asked again, thrusting Jasper back into the present just as suddenly as he had left it. “I was rather forceful, I admit. I assume I’m just tired of all the arrogant would-be suitors I often come across at the Conclave. How they try to catch me alone.”*

*“Y-yes, I’m… I’m alright,” Jasper replied, adjusting his glasses. “I promise I’m not like them.”*

*“That’s what they all say, Jasper,” Kalistria muttered, before composing herself. “So what is it you demand my company for?”*

*Jasper bit his lip, resisting the urge to keep up the flattery act. Instead, his voice dropped. “A certain Ahalin Korindell. Sixmoon, just before the Harvest Conclave.”*

*Kalistria’s eyes widened as she fidgeted, exhaling shakily. “You…”*

*“Check your pockets,” Jasper responded, his voice barely above a whisper as he responded with a ghost of a smile. Kalistria stopped dancing as she reached into her pockets and came up empty-handed.*

*“Come with me,” Kalistria said suddenly, coldly, as she grasped Jasper’s hand, led him away from the revelry and through two tall, engraved bronze doors into an empty conference room. “So you’re extorting me, is that it? Or trying to get in favor with the Council?” she hissed, fury in her voice.*

*Jasper lifted the sealed parchment letter, narrowing his eyes at Kalistria. “You’re after her, aren’t you?”*

*“It’s not personal,” Kalistria replied, walking at a leisurely pace toward Jasper that contrasted her icy voice with terrifying dissonance. “Assassination is a complicated profession, I’m sure you understand. Ahalin must have had some reason to want her dead.”*

*“Where is she?” Jasper pressed desperately, clenching his fists instinctively. “Are there any others? Did you kill her already?”*

*“She’s alive,” Kalistria replied suddenly. “But you realize if you extort me with this, or the contract gets out, you’ll have the entire Zhentor against you. All this just to find a petty revolutionary?*

*“Scrap the contract. Tell me where Aeryn is. Or I’ll take my chances and leak this to Túlkran Parliament. How do you think they’ll react to learning that the Zhentor is more than just a small political party?” Jasper shot back coldly, waving the contract back and forth in the air. “A few allies versus an entire city. You’d be dead before they ever found out about me.”*

*“There are others.“*

*“Others that will be just as ruined as you if I leak this contract. You’re finished.”*

*“You are quite loyal, Jasper, I’ll give you that,” Kalistria replied as she continued to walk towards him. “And you know how to get what you want. You’d make a good partner.”*

*Jasper paused, caught off guard. “I… I’m not going to join you,” he retorted as indignantly as he could, though part of him wondered annoyingly what it would be like to have an actual team on his side. No more wandering the streets, evading the gangs and rival factions alone. Like it was with him and Zylrie.*

*“You’re considering it,” Kalistria responded matter-of-factly, tilting her head to the side. “Aren’t you?”*

*“You wanted my best friend dead and now you’re-“*

*“Ahalin wants your friend dead. I’m merely a vessel through which he operates.”*

*“Tell me. Now. Where is she?”*

*“I can’t answer that. Jasper, a certain level of discretion is-“*

*“If you cared at all about discretion, you wouldn’t take your contract with you, least of all here in the Conclave. Unless…” Jasper’s eyes widened, his voice trailing off. “…Unless she’s here. And… given this is a Zhentor event… Ahalin is too.”*

*“How astute,” Kalistria replied, almost impressed. “You know what? I’ll let you go. Give me back the contract and I’ll hold off on Ahalin’s hunt for the time being. You find your friend and get out of here.”*

*“This… this must be some kind of trick,” Jasper responded skeptically, though it felt like a massive weight was lifted from his shoulders.*

*Kalistria shook her head slightly, holding her hand out and gesturing toward the contract. Jasper, against his better judgment, found himself handing it over to her with a shaky hand.*

*She took the file and pocketed it.*

*“How do I know you won’t use all this against me?” Jasper responded, his voice quavering from a mixture of relief, skepticism, and residual anger.*

*“I can’t,” Kalistria replied simply, her demeanor so different than before. “The only one in the slightest danger, at this particular moment, is me.”*

*“That’s rather self-destructive. Assassins aren’t usually known for their altruism.”*

*“Well, I’m not a typical assassin,” Kalistria responded, drawing closer to Jasper by the second. “You have drive. And loyalty.”*

*Jasper suddenly found himself weak, his head spinning slightly. “T… thank you. You have no idea how much this means to-“*

*Kalistria embraced him with a smile, catching him off guard as she wrapped her arms around him tenderly. Jasper stammered in flustered confusion, his face turning a brilliant shade of red.*

*His willpower screamed at him that this must be a trick. It pleaded to him to get as far away from her as he could, but he ignored it, the voice in his head fading to a comforting silence. Only Kalistria and her sudden kindness toward him remained.*

*Then the knife point plunged into his back.*

*The world spun, blurring and darkening as he hit the floor. The polished stones pooled with crimson as the world flashed back and forth between darkness and light. He tried to scream, but his punctured lung made that an impossibility. Jasper was going to die in silence.*

*He grasped the wound as the sigil on his right hand illuminated, the blood seeming to boil at his touch. He poured all of his strength into what little magic he had, desperately clutching the slash mark on his back as it began to knit itself together in glowing, searing light. He coughed up the remainder of the blood pooled in his lungs with an agonizing heave, slowly getting to his feet as the pain began to subside.*

*“Hemocraft,” Kalistria murmured, her voice a mixture of respect and fear as she twirled the crimson-stained silver blade in her hand. “I’m impress-“*

*Jasper channeled his pain into willpower, screaming as he drew blood from what remained of his wound. Reaching out and clawing his hand toward Kalistria, the sigil began to grow ever brighter as she staggered backward, brilliant orange light coalescing in her eyes. A trickle of blood began to stream down her cheeks.*

*Kalistria pushed the pain aside and rushed Jasper, her vision imploding as sight was ripped from her. She slashed him across the collarbone as the world went dark, Jasper’s maledict condemning her to blindness.*

*Jasper gasped as the blade raked across his skin. He grabbed Kalistria’s wrist and wrenched the knife out of her grasp with a horrifying surge of adrenaline.*

*The blade flashed up and down. Kalistria crumpled and breathed her last.*

*Jasper staggered back, heaving for breath as the world blurred together, shattered, and whirled around him. Everywhere he looked, crimson streaked and pooled. His ears rang and his heart pounded. He could hear footsteps, rushing toward him through the hallways outside.*

*Kalistria seemed so small now, drained of life and vulnerable. Her eyes were open, staring up toward the vaulted ceiling with plaintive, heartbreaking lifelessness. Jasper began crying for his enemy despite everything, hating the way he ended her life so quickly, so insignificantly.*

*The knife clattered to the floor. The engraved bronze doors swung open, slamming against the marble walls and echoing through the chamber. Jasper was engulfed in piercing golden light.*

*He could hear gasps, though they seemed distant and disconnected. A woman’s scream. More footsteps, swords being drawn. He raised his hands high above his head, sighing shakily.*

*They put a sword to his back and led him away through the crowd.*

———

***The Hearth and Flagon** - Khalectian Inn*

Jasper awoke to a ray of moonlight, his sheets twisted and disheveled as he found himself in the inn room once more. The backpack still sat beside him, safe and inconspicuous as ever, besides the slash raking across its fabric surface.

*You monster,* the aboleth chuckled. *You think the only way to save someone you care about is to kill someone you don’t? At least in Kalistria’s case you had someone to save. A cause. What about now? Those guards died because you wanted pocket money, is that it? Or you wanted to impress Havokin?*

Jasper curled up, clutching the backpack and trying to shut out the voice in his head. For once, he had no reply to the voice. He knew everything it said was right. And he was selfish.

He pushed the sheets away, sliding out of bed and reaching for his cloak, wrapping it around him. Lifting the backpack, he walked over to the balcony of the inn, engulfed in silver as he looked out over the lantern-lit city, illuminated in radiant shafts of orange. Tranquil and calm.

A shadow passed over him, slicing the ray of moonlight in two. Jasper turned quickly, backing away as he saw its source.

Standing on an adjacent rooftop was the shape of a tall, cloaked man, his cloak ragged and gently swaying in the faint wind, wearing some kind of silver, snakelike mask. Antlers protruded from his forehead, giving him the appearance of some ancient, eldritch being as he leaped from the rooftop and landed on the balcony railing, almost soundlessly. He held a sleek dagger in reverse grip, the blade glinting in the moonlight as he landed.

Jasper drew his sica. The man stepped down from the railing.

“The backpack. Drop it.”

*You’re in for it now, Embertide,* the voice laughed.

“Who sent you? Was it the Estreti?” Jasper questioned, his voice dry and quavering.

“None of your concern. Set it down.”

Jasper slowly removed the backpack and set it onto the wooden balcony floor.

“You… you heard about the bounty for this, right?” Jasper continued as the man walked closer, sheathing his silver dagger.

“Havokin wouldn’t be there for you to complete it,” the man said uncomfortably, picking up the backpack and unclasping it, before lifting the lock box.

“Do you have a key?” he asked Jasper.

Jasper shook his head. “N-no. There wasn’t time.”

The man lifted a dark iron key, inserting it into the lock. He turned it and the padlock fell from the box.

“You *are* from Ortano, aren’t you?” Jasper asked, his voice still quavering slightly.

“None of your concern,” the man muttered, opening the lock box. Inside, the void helm sat, more like a crown than a proper helmet, aside from the faceguards. Lines of intertwining steel and silver forming a medley of elegant crests and dragonlike spines, eldritch and alien.

“Hear me out,” Jasper ventured. “We could take this to Havokin together. Split the bounty. Part ways and never have to see each other again.

The man tilted his masked head to the side, curiously. “I have no need for *your* reward.”

He closed the lock box and slid it into the backpack again.

“*Wait!* W-wait. Listen. Just tell me. Who are you working for?”

“*You* don’t need to know.”

“Earlier, when you said Havokin wouldn’t be there - is she working with you too? Or did you kill her?” Jasper pressed, reaching down for the backpack. The man grabbed his wrist, crouching and placing his dagger at Jasper’s throat.

“I was hoping to avoid this, Embertide. *But we don’t need any loose ends.*”

Jasper drew breath sharply, his eyes widening. “L-listen. We can-“

The man lunged forward. Jasper slashed upward with his sica, slicing the man across his hand, spraying blood across the wood floor and knocking his dagger away, before using his momentum as he lunged to throw the man behind him. He collided with the railing, cracking the wood as he hit.

Jasper grabbed the man’s dagger and leveled it at his throat, raising his sica as well. The man was clearly inexperienced - accomplished in stealth or assassinations perhaps, yet lacking in hand-to-hand skill. Jasper reached for the backpack, lifting it up onto his back.

“Who are you? Who… who sent you?” Jasper asked quickly, a drop of blood sliding down the dagger blade as it pierced into the man’s throat ever so slightly. He hissed at the pain, yet maintained his resolve. The man removed his mask, revealing almost childlike features and dark green eyes - perfectly human, if not for the antlers that protruded from his forehead.

“I’m… I’m Cloven Hawthorne. I work for Hadwin Andvari.”

“Who’s that and what does he want with this?” Jasper pressed further, gesturing to the backpack with his other hand as he kept the dagger firmly at Cloven’s throat.

“Hadwin… he’s a… a politician. He’s not with any… any faction, other than his own. He pays high. As long as we don’t ask questions, he protects and pays us. I’m just a mercenary. Like… like you.”

“And that’s all you know?” Jasper said, narrowing his eyes and lowering his dagger.

“I swear on Eldryn that’s all.”

Jasper sighed, sheathing his sica and putting the dagger in his backpack. “And what about Havokin?”

“Hadwin has her. I don’t know where he brought her, but obviously this is about more than just the helm. We could… we could *both* be in way too deep here.” Cloven seemed uncomfortable at the mention of Havokin, as if he knew exactly what Hadwin was doing to her.

Jasper tried to conceal his worry, but he extended a hand to Cloven. “Which… which is exactly why I need your help.”

Cloven sighed. “*You can’t be serious.* I tried to kill you and-“

“Listen. Like you said, this is about more than the helm. Whatever your Hadwin wants with it, he’s obviously willing to be ruthless for it. He sent you to kill me, for Qahnaar’s sake. And Havokin…” Jasper processed his plan. *What would Zylrie want me to do?*

*Shut up about Zylrie for once,* the voice responded.

“Will you trust me?” Jasper asked Cloven, imploring him.

Cloven nodded slowly. Jasper stood and helped him to his feet.

“Listen, I know this isn’t what you expected. But I’m tired of playing the selfish thief. And I bet *you’re* not satisfied with hanging onto Hadwin’s coattails either.”

Cloven sighed. “Unfortunately not.”

“Well, we have our chance to change that. Because I've failed before. And I won't let that happen again. And…” Jasper trailed off, trying to look for the right words.

“…if Hadwin’s willing to go to these lengths for his own ends, I don’t care what the pay for his contracts are, I’d rather go down fighting than give him what he wants. I’m done with killing for him.” Cloven finished, narrowing his eyes. “I have my chance at heroism. And I’m not going to waste it with him.”

Jasper held out the dagger to Cloven. He reached for it hesitantly, holding it and resting it in its sheath.

“But make no mistake,” Cloven continued. “After we’re done finding out what he’s up to, I don’t ever want to see you again. This isn’t about helping you. It’s about making sure a rich coward loses his throne.”

Jasper nodded, a thin, wry smile spreading across his face. “Come on. We have work to do."

## Chapter 3: The Hostage

***Enthael Catacombs** - Enval City Criminal Enclave*

Sandscale glided through the tenebrous maze of underground limestone corridors, dilapidated halls, and long-since abandoned stairways into darkness. Stepping over a grate, through a rusted iron doorway, and into a dim, lantern-lit cellar - more like a tomb in its grim, musty stagnance  - he surveyed the scene with distaste yet pragmatism, his eyes hovering on the simple wooden chair in the center of the room, Havokin bound facing away from him with heavy rope.

Hadwin looked up as Sandscale entered, a sadistic smile on his face. “I’ve been giving our new friend here quite the welcome.”

Sandscale looked down to the floor. Blood splattered the limestone, glistening in the dim torchlight. He sighed in revulsion.

“We are to avoid unnecessary bloodshed, Mr. Andvari. Despite your deplorable streak of sadism. Are we mercenaries or zealots?”

Hadwin smiled thinly. “I can’t deny that I picked up a few things at Fort Ortano.”

Sandscale circled Havokin, almost sorrowful as she made no attempt to struggle against the ropes that bound her, merely sitting hunched over, defeated, as blood trickled down her forehead. She looked up at Sandscale, eyes half-open and despairing.

Sandscale drew his dagger quickly. Havokin’s eyes widened in fear, though she covered it up with a determined look of resolve.

“O-of course. I should have known. ‘The only release is death’ or something to equal effect?” she quipped, sighing as she gripped the arms of the chair.

In one sharp, fluid motion, Sandscale flung the dagger across the room. It lodged itself in Hadwin’s hand, causing him to howl in pain and clutch it as the force of the dagger’s impact bent it backward. Hadwin’s knife clattered to the ground as he gasped and screamed.

“I do not need nor have any use for your infernal affinity with pain. You have been little more than a failure since you let Embertide escape with the helm. Your assassins are worthless, as are your services. Your only worth is as a pawn, Mr. Andvari.” Sandscale remained eerily calm, though an edge of indignation crept through his voice.

“I would have gone for the head,” Havokin muttered.

“That may very well happen yet,” Sandscale said under his breath, watching Hadwin struggle.

Hadwin gritted his teeth and ripped the dagger from his hand. Sandscale narrowed his eyes as he walked up to him, taking the weapon off the floor. He placed a hand on Hadwin’s shoulder, drawing closer and putting the point of the weapon under his throat.

“What information did you glean?”

“I hadn’t questioned her, s-sir,” Hadwin said between gasps of pain as blood dripped from his wounded hand.

Sandscale stood in place, his eyes fixated on Hadwin’s.

“Get out of my sight,” he finally said coldly. Hadwin nodded frantically and left the room in a hurry, clutching his hand.

Sandscale turned and glided toward Havokin’s chair, crouching in front silently.

“I apologize for my brutish acquaintance,” he said softly.

“Rather too late now,” Havokin replied ruefully.

“I suppose that’s true.”

Havokin closed her eyes, gripping the arms of the chair. “Why… why are you doing this? To me, to Jasper…”

“It’s quite simple, Ms. Gladyl,” Sandscale continued in that same soft tone of voice. “Ever since they cast me from Ecapeht, I was regarded as a nuisance. A minor headache as I traversed the realms, a simple aberration, if you will. And the helm… it’s not merely a coup for more physical power, not an attempt at more influence over magic. You see, Ms. Gladyl, the reason you’re fighting for it is attachment, desire. And people will go to great lengths to claim what they want.”

“And… and your point is?”

“The reason you’re here, at my mercy, is because you wanted something. You’re here because you wanted the void helm, and you didn’t know who you were dealing with. And if I can control the things that people want… *I control the world.*”

“So this is just so you can feel wanted again? Like you have some kind of purpose?”

Sandscale narrowed his eyes, standing up and pacing the room. “I do have a purpose, Ms. Gladyl. You see, I want something as well.”

“...Power? Is… is that it?”

“Influence, Ms. Gladyl. And I’ll ensure nobody stands in my way.”

***Blackbird Point** - Midirian Adventurer Township*

Zylrie walked up to Taegan as she sat on the steps outside Embertide Ward, staring intently at her amulet. Zylrie put a hand on her shoulder.

“Still nothing from Cloven?” she asked, sitting down beside her in the shade of the oak tree that covered the steps leading into the small infirmary. Taegan shook her head, looking slightly worried.

“Not since he left… he said he had gone to Bisyl and that’s all I know,” she said, concerned. “He doesn’t seem to care, not about me, at least. But I should have known that. He hasn’t even used the amulet link.”

Zylrie sighed. “He cares about you, he has to. He’s your brother, for Qahnaar’s sake-”

“Ever since we reunited the only thing he’s cared about is himself and his asinine little army,” Taegan muttered ruefully. “Himself and the Alderne Coalition, Zylrie. That’s all it’s been. I don’t know if he knows he has a sister in the first place for all he seems to care about. And then… then he comes back to Blackbird Point only to-”

“Go on some grand adventure and leave you behind. I know.”

“What about Jasper? Have you heard from him?”

“No… I haven’t. And frankly, that’s rather odd, knowing how attached to me he seems to be,” Zylrie responded with a half-smile. “But we’re all better off with him married to coins, shiny things, and madcap adventures. His distractibility is saving my life.”

“Do you think they ran into each other?” Taegan replied. “In Bisyl?”

“I doubt it,” Zylrie said. “Plane-shifting is a complicated business. I know from experience. They probably ended up on opposite ends of the continent anyway.”

“What did Jasper go there for?”

“It’s… rather confusing. Something about a Havoc… Havokin Gladyl, if I remember right. Planar traveler, operated some syndicate or something. She had a bounty on some artifact from Bisyl. Exorbitantly high, lots of discretion. Which is why he immediately rushed to me and told me all about it.”

“Sounds typical for him, from what I’ve heard so far. I’ve already told you about Cloven.”

“The Emrys thing?” Zylrie asked.

“Exactly. Emrys and his oh-so-amazing adventures. Cloven’s probably just another pawn at this point.”

“That… that might be a little harsh,” Zylrie replied. “Emrys seemed… cold, and a little odd, but I highly doubt he’s making your brother his ‘pawn.’ He just seemed like… like Jasper, from what I’ve heard. Self-absorbed? Maybe. Obsessed with adventure? Also maybe. But some sort of mastermind? I think you’re exaggerating,” she said reassuringly.

“Probably… probably so. I’m just worried about him, that's all.”

“I’m sure he’s okay, Taegan,” Zylrie said, smiling. “Why wouldn’t he be?”