<div style="text-align: center"><b><u><span style="font-family:Amaranth"><span style="font-size: 26px">CHAPTER 1</span></span></u></b>​</div><i><div style="text-align: center"><i><span style="font-family:Amaranth"><span style="font-size: 18px">The Runaway Sorcerer</span></span></i>​</div></i><br/>Gloved hands nervously wrung themselves as bells chimed the city Guards. The streets were on high alert as the death of Valeria Sten, Council member of the Arcane Guild, at the hands of her apprentice Daxton Culver. Whispers filled the White Lady tavern. Rumors and suspicion about why and how danced about the ears of the shrouded man temperately tending to his ale.<br/><br/>The great Sorceress was beloved among Lumerians and in the Capital City of Ethica, she was praised from the wizened halls of Halcyon to the shimmering coasts. Renowned for her mastery of magic she performed miracles, officiated ascensions of Crown and Court, she was the High Vizier. Yet like most things concerning the Arcane Guild her history was wrapped in much mystery and speculation. Some swore that she was daughter of the last dragons: An unlikely union between man and wyrm. Other tales said she was the spawn of an Incubus and royalty, while many still claimed her to be blessed by gods long since forgotten.<br/><br/>The death of Councilor Sten had shaken the Capital…<br/><br/>The man could barely contain his anxiety as he pulled his dark cloak tighter about him, the hood obscuring his face and features. He was content to simply sit there but all this talk – well, it wasn’t what he wanted to hear. Blue eyes darted with suspicion as he could not let his hands be. It was as if he was trying to pull them apart in his nervousness.<br/><br/><b> “Did ya’ ‘ear ole’ man?”</b>A young and unrefined man asked the bartender.<b>“Tha’ Culver, they done said he’d raped that poor sorceress.”</b>He continued to share as other patrons leaned into listen. More than glad to speak the vagrant smirked as he added the juiciest tales,<b>“Afta’ she been dead. Supposin’ we dealing wit’ a necromancer!”</b>A hearty laugh and eyes sharp as poisonous thorns swept the room, while the cloaked gentleman groaned his annoyance, which only provoked attention.<b>“Wha’chu on about git?”</b><br/><br/>Did he want to say? Prove the fool to be just that.<br/><br/>With a deep breath he let the rumormonger carry on his ignorance as he spat with gravel,<b>“Nothing. I am on about nothing.”</b>A narrow gaze centered upon him. Trying to discern a feature or something notable the vagrant could use to defensively throwback, but it was hard to tell as the Cloaked Gentleman never looked up. Never made eye contact.<b> “Aye well… keep it that way. No time for sympathizing wit’ ta’ wicked. That Culver I tell ya’ something ain’t right about ‘im.”</b><br/><br/>The tavern settled into their corners passing about their respective stories after a moment. No body threw a punch, and there was little excitement to be had except for what was of current interest. This all made him uncomfortable. Figuring that it was time to leave he left the coin upon the table and lifted off the stool to move towards the Tavern doors.<br/><br/>Well before he could make it men dressed in ornate breastplates and open face helms. Their cloaks bore the sigil of the Capital and their faces brooded heavily as they broke ranks into the room. Five, the cloaked man counted five total, and in reaction he moved towards the walls moving so as to be unsuspicious.<br/><br/><b> “We are the Kingsguard, and as you know we are investigating the death of Councilor Sten. If you know anything about her murderer, Daxton Culver, let us know. He is potent sorcerer and stands tall with blonde hair, a pale face, and blue eyes.”</b>The Captain announced standing amongst the patrons.<br/><br/>Oh this wasn’t good he needed to leave now!<br/><br/>Pulling his cloak tighter he moved amongst the shade of distant candle light and hurried towards the door. This was not the place he wished to be. Danger was about him and the air was thick with turmoil, and he was not one to linger amongst the violent. But breath caught in his lungs as a hand caught his wrists and spun him about, blue eyes narrowed on the guard, a suspicion was cast upon him.<b>“Hey you… remove the hood.” </b>He was ordered.<br/><br/>In a moment of panic he made a series of hand motions before clapping his palms together, separating, and pushing forward. The air coiled with ethereal vapor as a manifested force threw the guard back into a table. Hood thrown back revealing the light blonde hair tied back and blue eyes wildly sweeping over the Tavern, the face of Daxton Culver was revealed. The killer of Valeria Sten.