Savaran slept like a baby. Especially after spending the better part of the previous two nights taking on those cursed, undead souls pursing them to the ends of the world. Once he'd laid down, he'd thoroughly enjoyed the rest of the night taking inventory of every dark inch of the back of his eyelids.

Now that morning light had come? Well, that was a different story.

Waking up with the tip of a sword at his throat was certainly not high on the list of ways he wanted to be aroused from his slumber. Still, he couldn't help but admire the familiar emerald inlay that snaked up the lower half of the blade towards the hilt.

"Well, well, if Sleeping Beauty isn't finally awake," Traven griped. He was kneeling nearby in the dirt, hands cuffed behind him with three armed guards making sure he wasn't going anywhere.

Savaran moved his eyes from the blade of the sword upwards until he was face to face with the graying, and balding, rusty red hair of Johva Ivanstone. "Well, if this isn't a fine cluster foxtrot," the former general grumbled as two deputies hoisted him up, pulled his hands behind him, applied his own personal set of cuffs, and then planted him back down firmly on his knees. "How's it hanging, Johva? Still a bit off to the left?"

"Shut up!" Constable Ivanstone planted the butt of his sword into Savaran's jaw. The firm blow didn't knock him over. Savaran wouldn't allow it to.

After realigning his jaw with a wide, painful yawn, he turned back to his captor. "Oh, come on. You're not still sore about Long Branch? Are you?"

"Long Branch? Oh, no. I'm not the least bit upset about that." He planted a second thump from his hilt into Savaran's jaw. "What would make you think that?"

That second crack, Savaran could feel, definitely loosened a tooth or two. "Just a hunch," he replied. It was at this very moment Savaran noticed Daria was nowhere to be found. Oh, how he hoped that she'd seen this coming and was off hiding somewhere just waiting to spring a surprise jailbreak.

That thought, however, didn't last long as he watched her saunter into the camp without even a hint of a care in the world that there were multiple law enforcement officials lounging around. "Hi," she said with a smile.

"Let me guess," Savaran moaned, "You and Constable One-less-ball-than-he-should-have here," *CRACK* again to his jaw. "Have been working together," he finished his thought, spitting some blood from his mouth and feeling his cheek swelling.

"Nothing personal, but you are worth a thousand gold each after all. Oh, Savaran," Daria tsked tsked him. "Don't be so surprised."

"I'm not surprised," he grumbled, testing the firmness of the restraints now over his wrists. They were pretty secure. The sword in his back made sure he stayed kneeling, humiliated before her. "Disappointed in myself? Yes. Frustrated that I let you play me? Again? Yes. Pissed off and ready to put my sword where the sun doesn't shine and tear you a new one? Absolutely. But not surprised. Never surprised. You've been leaving a trail for Constable Flaccid Pendulum here. Isn't that right, Daria? That's what I caught you doing in the woods by the latrine? Marking our trail. I remember you using some sort of powder that burned upon being exposed to air at the Battle of Great Wall to signal the direction of the retreat. Didn't notice the color though because it was daylight, but I finally remembered the odor."

"That bitch double-crossed us!" Traven screeched from his likewise undignified position. "She fucking double-crossed us!"

Daria shook her head. "It's just business. Sure, three thousand gold for this book," she held up the dusty, torn, thick leather tome, "is nice. But how could I resist another two thousand for turning in two notorious outlaws? We square now, Johva?" Daria asked of the Constable.

"Yeah," he said, "I'm going to forget that I ever knew you were the one responsible for that quadruple murder down in Westrian."

Westrian? The murder of that bigshot banker and his three sons Savaran had heard about? He supposed he shouldn't be surprised to hear that Daria was responsible. "When I get out of these," Savaran warned her.

"Oh, you're not getting out of those," she laughed. "And there's a garrison a thousand soldiers strong in Nalhaven. Once you're there? Good luck with escaping." She winked at him.

Now that was odd, Savaran thought. And the whole vision of that wink in his mind caused him pause. That subtle little sign. They had used it as a signal in Breach during an escape attempt. That one had failed, Savaran remembered.

"I'm not going to forget this, Daria," he said, more than half-serious, but also partially playing along. "I will get out of this. And I will find you."

"Oh." Daria crouched down in front of Savaran and whispered in his ear, 'I'm counting on it." She patted him on his sore cheek, and he winced. "I will sorely miss our bedroom romps if I never see you again," she added. Then she took a hold of him and planted a massive kiss on his lips.

Savaran immediately noticed that there was something being shoved into his mouth from hers. Something other than her tongue. It was small. Metal. Long and narrow. He took the thing and moved it over into the pocket between his lower jaw and his unswollen cheek to secure it.

Daria pulled back and patted him on that cheek this time with a smile. "See you around." She stood, "He's all yours, Constable." And then she walked off from the clearing to disappear as if she didn't just slip him a small chance at salvation.

The guards dragged Savaran to his feet. As they also did with Traven. Then the two of them were force-marched about three hundred paces through the woods to where a wagon with only one small, barred window sat. The driver was keeping control of two very fiery horses that didn't seem to want to hold still. They probably sensed the remnants of the undead here, Savaran figured. That would be enough to spook them.

Savaran and the former prince were ushered to the back of the wagon, thrust inside, and the door slammed shut and bolted. Sitting in the near blackness, Traven grumbled again. "Daria double-crossed us."

"Yep. New first rule," Savaran replied. "Never trust Daria."

"Well, gee, wish we'd had that rule a few weeks ago. What are we going to do?" the former prince asked as the wagon started to move and it nearly threw him from the small bench he sat on.

"First? We're getting out of these cuffs."

"How?"

Savaran worked the tool Daria had passed to him out of his cheek and onto his tongue. Then he brought it halfway out of his mouth to display it for Traven's edification. Using his teeth to hold it in place, he remarked, "Courtesy of that no good, double-crossing bitch."

The heat of the burning wagon at their backs, Savaran, followed by Traven, trudged away into the night. The flames ascended twenty feet into the sky, singeing the branches of trees overhanging the clearing where they had stopped for the evening.

Savaran secured his recently re-confiscated bow to his back and put his sword into its sheath with a single that's-that motion.

"Sure you don't want this?" Traven asked, cutting through the air with the emerald inlaid sword that was now his.

"Nah," he replied. "You've been needing a sword anyway. Got my own." He patted the one at his side.

From where the fire raged, they could still hear the painful cries of Constable Johva Ivanstone and his men. None of them would be following. Savaran had made doubly sure of that.

"Why didn't we kill them?" Traven asked. "It would have been a more merciful fate."

"They're just doing their jobs." Savaran replied.

"Yeah, but -" "They live," Savaran interrupted him, "and that is my gift to them."

"A fate worse than death, if you ask me." Traven mumbled.

"Funny, I don't think I did," Savaran answered. "You get that dagger of yours?"

"Yep." It was Traven's turn to pat his weapon now. "Think you can teach me how to use this?" he held up the sword.

"Sure. Wouldn't want you impaling yourself," quipped Savaran.

There was a pause before Traven asked his next question. "So, think we can check out Nalhaven? It's only a couple days walk, I suppose."

Savaran stopped. He'd been heading purposefully west. "I told you, Karis isn't in Nalhaven."

"Yeah, I know what you said," the ex-prince admitted.

"And we'd be walking into the lion's den if we go there." Savaran then thought about it for a moment. "Fine, we'll explore the possibility that Karis is in Nalhaven. I suppose it makes sense to run that lead dry before moving on. Even if it is unlikely."

"Really?" Traven squeaked. Then he added in a more normal tone, "Really?"

"Yeah, I'm agreeing with you. For once," Savaran rolled his eyes. "Karis is too important to getting us out of this whole carnival of fuckupery. We'll check out the lead, being very careful, and then move on."

The disgraced general looked up to the star-filled night sky, got his bearings, and plotted his new course in his mind. Changing direction, he started off, Traven in tow, with a fire in his belly to get back his reputation as soon as possible. 

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END EPISODE 1

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