INHERITANCE: Memorandum Of Scales

HOUSE MAGEBANE

"I think they add to your charm," Katrina hummed as she traced the lines of Roran's tattoo.

The vast design stretched from his face all the way to his right foot. She trailed her fingers along the thick lines as they crossed his bare chest, and she smiled up at him, her light brown eyes gleaming in the morning sun, flecks of green swimming in the beautiful tawny pupils.

Newlyn had granted him his own house in Gil'ead, a medium-sized dwelling built from wood and stone. It sat within the walls of the fort, which had been expanded to encompass much of the outlying town. With gold that they had scavenged from Gil'ead's stores, they had been able to set up an early infrastructure, attracting businessmen and shopkeepers to live in the area. The regional armies were increased, and according to Newlyn, a host of three thousand could be raised, not counting the other houses and, of course, House Pike, which was now the supreme authority in the North.

Above Roran's bed the sigil of House Pike hung. It was a looming reminder of his duty, a reminder of what he had to protect. He turned towards Katrina and kissed her greedily, his lust for her growing each time their lips parted. Ever since he returned he had been with her constantly, taking part of her and holding her, her body nearly fully recovered from their shared ordeal. It seemed strange- so much had changed. How long had it been? They were nearing winter's climax, with snow storms battering them and heavy winds stalling their fast progress.

Roran looked at Katrina once more. As he stared at her, he remembered the woman from his dream, the woman that had given him his power.

He pushed the thoughts away.

They didn't leave him.

Gholobhor.

"What's wrong?" Katrina asked, rising from beneath him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him back down to their bed, her soft skin brushing against his cheek.

"That dream. The . . . The woman."

"She saved you." Katrina said softly, kissing the corner of his mouth.

"She saved you, and by doing so, saved me as well."

"But why, Katrina?" Roran mumbled.

"There was so much death . . . I . . . I died, Katrina. She brought me back. But for what?" Roran frowned, and Katrina pushed his hair away from his eyes.

"All that matters is that you're here, and that you're alive." She grinned at him, and he smiled back, weakly.

There was a shattering knock on the door. Roran swore and reluctantly rose from his bed, getting dressed in his new clothing : A black leather vest with the sigil of House Pike at the breast, combined with a white shirt with long sleeves. Ebony trousers covered his legs and he laced up fine boots that traveled halfway to his knees. Finally, he covered his body with a large fur cloak, clasped at the breast with a skull-pin, and pulled the hood over his head. He turned towards Katrina, who smiled sadly.

"I'll be back soon. It's probably nothing." He said, reassuring her. Katrina nodded.

Roran left their bedroom. A dying fire sputtered as Roran walked past the fireplace, a thing of fine stone, with an iron bar gate. Beside the fireplace a table was found, two seats devoid of bodies standing proudly at either side. A window was found opposite the table, and Roran frowned as he saw it was somewhat obscured by frost. Even this far south in the North, winters were harsh; they had just taken time to develop.

Roran opened his front door and was greeted with a Pike lieutenant, a middle-aged man dressed similarly to Roran. Behind the man Gil'ead was coming to life, albeit slowly.