<span style="font-size: 150%; line-height: 116%;"><span style="text-decoration: underline"><div style="text-align: center;">AIUS CARRINUS</div></span></span><br/><br/>Despite having only ever seen his son twice, and his daughter just once, Aius dreamt of his children often.  Over the long years of his absence from his family - nearly ten now - his dreams of them never had much pattern or substance; sometimes he was greeting them for the first time; sometimes chasing them through his father's wheat fields; other times standing from afar watching them sit at his wife's feet as she told them stories, their imaginations animated by the warm light of coals in the nearby fireplace.  Whenever he had these dreams Aius woke slowly and languorously, hoping to cherish them for as long as possible before their inevitable fading from his recollection.<br/><br/>Now he dreamt of his family's death almost nightly, and woke with a choked cry every morn.  With visions of their torture, murder and dismemberment rampaging through his mind, obliterating his usually composed trains of thought, Aius would dart from his tattered bedroll and begin his grim march anew each day, like Belisarius of legend who was burned alive every night only to be reborn every day.  If Aius remembered correctly Belisarius was punished for kin-slaying - an evil omen for his own plight, no doubt.<br/><br/>Still, the Valonni warrior could not allow himself to fall to despair, and so once again he cleared his small camp and set out east once more.  He kept away from the roads - despite their legendary safety throughout his country's history - for any eyes could be watching for movement now, and even though the chances of running into any minions of darkness was quite low, there was the distinct possibility of being beset by any number of outlaws that roamed the countryside.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Not outlaws</span>, he reminded himself.<span style="font-style: italic">You have to </span>have<span style="font-style: italic"> laws for there to be outlaws.</span>With the ascent of the Kingdom of Darkness and the destruction of the Geian Empire, there was no government from the lowliest jarl in Njord to the very Crowned Seat itself.  Now it was every man for himself, and one man on the road alone was an easy target for anyone hoping to find food or hard coin.<br/><br/>Working his way along the gentle sloping plains surrounding the<span style="font-style: italic">Via Aurora</span>, Aius made steady progress throughout the day.  Long years marching as a centurion in the Empire's legions served him well as his sturdy legs ate up the endless miles between fallen Val Onetti and his hometown of Batroun.  Each step east took him closer toward his goal, but instead of elation Aius felt only a growing, gnawing fear with each passing day - in the months since the fall of Valon and the empire at large, the Dark Horde was slowly turning from the great cities it had conquered toward the smaller towns and villages that offered more fresh souls to torment and befoul.  Would he find upon his arrival that he was too late to reunite with his family?<span style="font-style: italic">No</span>, he decided firmly.  He would find them and keep them safe until the approaching end of all existence.<br/><br/>His dour thoughts were enshrouded by the sudden deluge that had been foretold all day by blackened skies, as though the great downpour had been summoned by his very mood.  Aius pulled his red travelling cloak from his pack and quickly threw it about his shoulders, wrapping the loose back folds over his head as a hood.  The cloak covered him only to just below the belt, but truth be told after a few minutes of rain it mattered not - there was only so soaked a man could become, and the cloak was more ceremonial than practical.  It, along with the embossed cuirass he still wore, revealed his status as a member of the Secutorian Guard, who were not often called to marching desolate landscapes during thunderstorms.<br/><br/>Refuge was found sometime that evening, as after the sun went down a faint light could be found in the distance off to his left.  Turning back toward the road Aius soon found himself approaching a small village.  He guessed by its layout - squat stone structures encircling a communal plaza, with all windows and doors facing in toward the plaza, not out to the country - that the village had been built during the Dark King's last invasion some five hundred years ago.  The village was meant to quickly double as fortification if a passing Valonni legion so required.  Now, however, when the village might most need such protection Aius was shocked to see upon his approach that the barricades that had been designed to be quickly built between the structures to complete the fort's protective circle, were nowhere to be found.  It was as though the village welcomed any effort to subdue it, whether by bandits or the Dark Horde.<br/><br/>Aius found the village inn easily, as it was the largest structure and the only one well-lit.  Thankful for the overhang that finally allowed him respite from the torrential rainfall, the Valonni warrior took a moment to collect himself before pushing open the heavy oaken door - still half-expecting to find it barred.  An immediate burst of warmth struck him as he stepped into the crowded common room.  A low ceiling and thick stone walls protected the combined heat of a few dozen bodies and a roaring fireplace.<br/><br/>Despite the great crowd gathered this place was like no inn Aius was used to.  He could hear a general murmur of a dozen conversations, but all were so muted that he could pick out individual voices, punctuated by coughs that reminded him more of a sick ward than a tavern.  Since the rise of the Kingdom of Darkness, of course, this was to be expected.  There was no joy in the land, and mankind crowded together for simple protection, not camaraderie.<br/><br/>"What do you have?" he asked a man who passed by with a harried look, obviously a worker here.<br/><br/>"What do<span style="font-style: italic">you</span>have?" the man replied quickly, not looking at Aius as he quickly scooped up empty mugs from a nearby table.<br/><br/>"Hard coin."  For the last hundred years or so the Empire had developed the creditory - too few coins among too many citizens had created a need for paper currency known as creditory notes or simply notes, which had the full backing of the Empire's gold reserves.  Of course, in the last six months the notes weren't worth their value as kindling.  Aius suspected that hard coin ought to be just as useless, but a civilization's old habits died hard and the gold in his pockets still commanded some respect.<br/><br/>"Got some blackbread rolls and whey beer for a solid crown - no bits - and that don't include a room, I don't have any to let."  Aius nodded as he fished a single coin out of his small leather purse, choking back an embittered laugh at the price.  Normally a meal like that wouldn't be fit to be served to the pigs, but even<span style="font-style: italic">were</span>a man charging for such poor fare it would cost a bit or two at most.  With eight bits to a mark, eight marks to a crescent and eight crescents to a crown, Aius ought to have expected a place at the Emperor's right hand for such a price!<br/><br/>As the man left Aius turned longingly toward the fire, around which stood a phalanx of men and women packed together shoulder-to-shoulder, each man occasionally rotating which way he faced like some sort of pathetic, shambolic folk dance.  Soaked to the bone and beginning to shiver fiercely, Aius stood and made his way to the fire, pulling some lad out of the way and taking his spot without a backward glance.