They didn’t even really know where to start. After using a ton of man-hours to find this mysterious assassin, he would just be hung anyway. No profit to be made for anyone upon his capture. Denark was one of the few cities that had no dealings with the slavers, so they could not sell him into the games either. Not to mention this had all happened within tavern walls, where the laws became rather...flexible.
Vega knew the way of things and figured the assassin to be long gone by now, so he felt no need to lie and cover anything up to protect him. He knew it was done and the assassin had gotten away with it. Plus, he had no love for those leathers. Rumors had already reached his ears about some dark-hooded assassin who had been picking these guys off for weeks. Dealing with so many folk from other towns and comparing some of the rumors convinced him the stories were probably true. He knew it was the same guy the second he walked into his tavern.
The rain had broken now, and the sun was coming out. The figure in black quietly tied the beautiful white horse to a tree outside of a red barn, then snuck around through the tall grass to the side of the two-story house made entirely of gray stone. The beautiful cottage seemed to make the red, wooden barn appear out of place.
The cloaked figure carefully climbed up the grape vine that ran up the back of the stone house and quietly opened the window before sneaking inside. The room was well furnished with a large bed, coat rack, and a small wooden table with two fine, polished wooden chairs. Last but not least was a huge dresser with a full-sized mirror attached to the top of it.
“Hey, who is that?” came an older man’s voice from down stairs. “Jade. Are you up?” Slow footsteps could now be heard coming up the stairs. The black cloak went flying into to the closet, followed by both shoes. A lacy baby blue nightgown was thrown on in seconds. One, two, three pins were removed from long black hair now flowing over petite, yet defined shoulders. The door opened and a white-haired, kind-looking old man walked into the room.
“Oh good. You are awake, Jade. Are you ready for breakfast?” the man asked with a warm smile.
“Yes, Father,” came the sweet, innocent reply. “I’ll be down in a minute.” The young girl smiled, with her flowing black hair roughed up and messy. She tilted her head to the side as she fluttered those innocent crystal-blue eyes.
Chapter 3
The land of Tarmerria is rather beautiful, if not wild and mostly unexplored. Oh, there are many different societies indeed—cultures that differ greatly from one town to the next. There’s the business-oriented folk in Denark, who are always willing to sell goods or trade with anyone as long as fair compensation could be produced, and are always on the lookout for outsiders that might not be as business-savvy and are thus easily taken advantage of.
Then there’s the tall barbarians from Dronin, way off to the west in the Apili Mountains, where it is cold more often than not and it is commonplace to wear thick furs as opposed to stylish clothing. These people ready themselves for war constantly even though their city is the least likely to ever see conflict. To the north of Tarmerria lies the city of Taron. It spreads for miles in all directions and has plenty of political influence to go along with its sheer size and highly-educated people.
Taron is considered the largest and richest city in all of Tarmerria. The people are heavily taxed but consider the tradeoff worth it, considering the amount of funds needed for maintaining the safety of a large city. Wages are much higher to begin with due to the skill of the labor force. Blacksmiths, armorers, furriers, masons, roofers, even locksmiths all thrive here. One of the largest sources of income is Taron’s heavy participation in the games. Slavers rent their “goods” to Taron to compete in the great arena called “Moxis.” Here they charge per person at the door to watch the carnage.
Tarmerria has plenty of culture but remains wild in the sense that all towns and cities are independent of one another. Every town and city looks out for itself and rarely seeks aid from neighboring towns, and even more rarely provides it. That is not to say that it never happens, but it comes at a steep price. Aside from just being compensated for any aid provided, there is the perplexity of status being lost or gained.
Most towns’ and cities’ social status or rank in the world is directly tied to the amount of financial or political influence tied to that town. If a neighboring town is in economic turmoil or recovering from siege, the surrounding areas that have to share the same resources would actually benefit if the town were to dry up. So to provide aid on any level to a potential enemy, or at least a competing rival that could pose a threat in the future, was done rarely and only at great cost to the recipient.