Death's Overture

Chapter~2 Arrival

As the leaves drifted along, it seemed as if the wind like a friend, slowly but surely dropped them on the ground as they shone a beautiful red.

The tall figure which moved along the path could not help but notice that on either side of the path, the trees now started to change and while some shone a scarlet, maples and birches remained firm and flared the colour of green, blended in gold.

In all, it could be said that it couldn't have been a nicer day for getting looted.

'So, what are you doing here, young master?' asked a man with a rugged face and a bald head, smiling like a maniac.

'Can you hear me, young master?' asked the man again but Kronic couldn't make anything out of the words, it seemed as if he could only hear them but his ability to understand and make out the meaning of those words had left him.

'He is out, it will be a few hours before he will regain his senses, a lucky day.........' was all Kronic could hear before his consciousness started to fade away.

It was late in the evening when Kronic woke up, his head feeling heavy and memories hazy. Kronic tried to stand but to no avail; it took him some time before he could sit on the land where he had been lying. As he looked around, pieces of his memory started to come back to him.

Kronic stood up after his third attempt, feeling better than before but still out of shape. He now started to move towards a black stone building, with name Busby's Inn etched on the top. The insides of the inn didn't seem much illuminated; with old chairs, a barman who also had the air of the owner and a few people scattered at places, Kronic moved towards the presumed owner as he limped across the empty tables.

As he took his place near the barman, he started to recollect his old memories which took place earlier the day.

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Kronic read the sign, "Dressdal", it was at this town where the client had agreed to meet him. He let out a sigh, remembering how other information brokers did him no good yet they were his only hope in finding "him".

As Kronic moved into the town, a feeling of emptiness surrounded him; with a handful of people scattered, a few houses whose smell made him feel old and a stone building which looked like an inn was all the town named Dressdal had to offer. As he thought of such things, he heard a question directed at him.

'Are you the one who seeks us information brokers?' asked one of the two men who approached him.

As Kronic noted, the two men seemed to be hiding something; the one who spoke to him, the man with a rugged face and bald head seemed restless, as if he was ready to run while the one who stood beside him had his body tensed up, looking like a predator waiting for his prey.

'I am' said Kronic as he eyed them suspiciously. 'However I remember to have only paid for the services of a single man who works alone, so who might be you guys?'

'You surely are good at the jest, "young master'' said the bald man in a tone of mock.

'Are you guys really..........' Was all Kronic could manage before he felt a thump on his head, the world around him now spinning, making him fall on the ground. It seemed as if Kronic's mind had shut itself, making it impossible for him to do things he needed to do.

'So, what are you doing here, young master?' asked a man with a rugged face and a bald head, smiling like a maniac.

'Can you hear me, young master?' asked the man again but Kronic couldn't make anything out of the words, it seemed as if he could only hear them but his ability to understand and make out the meaning of those words had left him.

'He is out, it will be a few hours before he will regain his senses, a lucky day.........' was all Kronic could hear before his consciousness started to fade away.

'Damn!' Kronic sighed as he emerged from his thoughts.

'Bastards looted me.' Kronic thought and hurriedly went for his pockets and satchel but something seemed amiss.

'God's body, where is my satchel!?' he cried as he hurriedly stepped outside the inn, moving towards the area where he had been looted.

On reaching, all he could see was a barren land with nothing on its soil.

Kronic frantically looked, running around the deserted city like a radge until he spotted it, a tinge of brown on the corner of an old house; As he ran towards it, he could see papers lying around with his satchel resting along the walls of the house, pens and bottles of ink lying like trash near it.

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An hour had passed since the third bell was heard, Kronic who was now finally on his feet, with his satchel hanging on his shoulder, moved towards the inn.

It seemed that the thieves did a sloppy job of stealing him, aside from the ten sØlv and a couple of coures which he had in his purse, everything else was safe.

Kronic entered the inn once again and reclaimed his previous seat; however as he now looked around, he could feel as if the atmosphere had changed, an air of tension now enveloping the whole room.

As Kronic tried to analyse the current situation, a hooded man approached him.

'You are the one they call Kronic?' asked the hooded man, an air of authority in his voice.

'And who might you be?' Kronic replied as he moved his eyes everywhere to check for anything suspicious.

'They call me mediator' replied the hooded man, still hiding his face under the hood. 'I believe you were the one who had requested my services.'

'And why should I believe you' Kronic asked, suspicions still in his eyes.

'If you want proof for my identity, I can assure you that I have information about the one you seek, I have information on "him".'

Hearing those words cleared suspicions from the eyes of Kronic, his eyes now gleaming with excitement.
'His location!! Do you have the location?!' Kronic asked, now jumping with excitement, eager to learn about the information about the one he has searched for months.

'Here' said Mediator as he slipped a piece of paper towards Kronic. 'The information will be worth 3 gold coins.' He said with an uninterested tone.

'Take it!' Kronic said as he hurriedly passed the coins, now looking into the piece of parchment he had received.

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Kronic now stood outside the town's gate, reading the words etched on the signboard which said "Rathway". He smiled one last time as he entered into the town, the parchment now fluttering in the air with words "Rathway" on it.