<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 200%; line-height: 116%;"><span style="color: #0040FF">Earl Seaward, The Archivist Assistant</span></span></div><br/><br/><span style="color: #008000">"Are you sure you must go? Can't you stay just for a little longer?"</span>The voice that filled the silence of the small room was as soft as it was charming, appropriate coming from the figure that had spoken the request. The early morning rays of sunlight that managed to make it past the curtains of the window slightly illuminated exposed parts of the woman that was sitting up on the warm bed. Her eyes, of bright emerald green that also happened to catch the light, fixated on the man that had spent the previous night with her who was now dressing himself at the end of the bed. The look on her face told that she was to miss this man who she had never known at all in her life before he had come to her store in search of fresh foods to take back to his home, where it was she did not know. When she first laid eyes on the man she knew that he was one of much charm and many secrets. She knew with the first words he spoke that no matter how much she could prod and poke, he would forever keep whatever true identity he had a secret. Yet, she was drawn to him the instant she saw him, as she figured a lot of women probably were. Whether or not he was aware of that trait she did not know nor did it make a difference to her. Something about him just made her yearn, and now she was certain that once he left she will never see him again.<br/><br/>Earl Seaward, son of the late Aaron Seaward, did not ignore the question but instead opted to stall from giving the answer he knew she did not want to hear nor did he want to say. He did not love this woman but sharing a night together had given him a sort of attachment to her. They had only known each other for a few hours but within that time they had bonded in a great way, as he did with many other women that he had to eventually leave behind. Used to it as he was, it still was not easy to do.<span style="color: #0040FF">"I wish I could,"</span>he began to say as he placed his cloak around his shoulders trying to avoid looking at the woman yet failing miserably as the light from the early morning sun taunted him with vision of the lovely elder of him by only a few years,<span style="color: #0040FF">"but I have to get back..."</span><br/><br/><span style="color: #008000">"To tending the family farm?" </span>She jokingly cut him off as a tiny smirk played upon her lips.<br/><br/>Without skipping a beat, the young man nodded his head as the words stung at him,<span style="color: #0040FF">"I stayed out longer than I expected to."</span>That happened to be a true statement. Earlier the night before he had been cleaning one of the wing's of the Archivist's library when he came upon Harold fallen asleep after tirelessly working, as he usually does although Earl has requested he try to pace himself a bit more. Earl took the discovery of his sleeping master as an opportunity to go out and get some supplies for the library as well as some food to make a fresh meal for the old man. He had meant to come back as soon as possible, cook, clean the mess that his master had made using his magic, and then wake him up with a full tray of food. Earl had rose his horse away from the castle and immediate town  and opted for a place as close to the outside of the kingdom as possible so he would be less likely to be recognized. Though he was just an assistant and relatively unknown, he nevertheless never wanted to run the risk of being identified as someone tied rather close to the kingdom's royal members. After about an hour of riding he made it to this rather small village just on the border of the kingdom and found the tavern, hoping that there would be someone there willing to make trade with him as it was late in the day and most shops were closed at the time. Luckily for him, the tavern he entered was stocked with various foods and the owner, who he came to know as Gwen, was willing to barter with him. This then led to a slight delay for the plans that he now prepares to continue as the morning air wades in through the window.<br/><br/><span style="color: #008000">"It's ok,"</span>the tavern owner continued on as she gazed into the eyes of the man that had been her company and lover for the night,<span style="color: #008000">"I don't feel bad about it and neither should you."</span>With that she stood up from the bed, her naked form basking in the warmth and slight sunlight as she approaches her one time lover and kisses him softly before helping him finish dressing.<span style="color: #008000">"All the things we talked about...all the romance that we shared... I thank you for that."</span><br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: white;background:white;"/></div><br/><br/><span style="color: #0040FF">"I'm sorry, Harold," </span>spoke the young assistant as he walks in through the door into the room his master had seemed to now be awake in,<span style="color: #0040FF">"I was going to clean that up for you when I had gotten back from getting some food for us and some supplies for the library,"</span>he motions his head to the tray of cooked meat, vegetables and breads that he is carrying with both hands.<span style="color: #0040FF">"Unfortunately, I got a bit tied up and apparently am late to getting back." </span>He places the tray on a different desk than the one Harold was at and helps to clean up the ink and books.<span style="color: #0040FF">"I've got to say, if you don't mind, you are working terribly hard as of late. Working yourself to exhaustion, more than usual it seems. Is everything alright?"</span><br/><br/><br/><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 200%; line-height: 116%;"><span style="color: #800000">Archibald the Puppet Master</span></span></div><br/><br/>In just a few short hours the sun will begin to rise over the lands and bring warmth and light to the world. The markets will open soon, vendors looking to sell or trade their wares off while many residents would have been awake for some time already tending to various works of their own. Soon, the world will be waking up together and many of its inhabitants will be interacting with each other as the day goes on. For now, however, many of them are fast asleep, unconcerned of any events that may be taking place during the night but not all are sleeping. During the night hours many folks are very much active in their activities; thieves, murderers, criminals of many sorts looking to prey on the innocent ones that happen to be caught unguarded. The kind of folks that consider themselves to be the bane of the night, believing and bragging that they are the reason that many fear the night and to the average citizen, they might be. To some, they are all nothing but empty vessels waiting for the right master to claim dominance over their souls. Very few individuals harbor that feeling more than Archibald the Puppet Master.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FF4000">"Please, please let me go..."</span>the cries of the somewhat well known gang leader Tyrus are barely audible as he strains through the pain and embarrassment of the torture he had been receiving from the Archmage, though the words fall on deaf ears,<span style="color: #FF4000">"...I'm sorry."</span><br/><br/>Shaking his head slightly, the dark mage slowly walks towards the once proud villain of the streets who now lays strung out on a table, arms, legs, and head bound down with various instruments of torture laid out around him.<span style="color: #FF0000">"You approach me in the middle of the night while I am on my routine stroll for alchemist ingredients. You interrupt my work to attempt to rob and kill me...like I am some common filth. You lay your hands on me and try to stick me with that pathetic blade of yours,"</span>he looks over at the small dagger that sits on the table which belonged to the captive.<br/><br/>Tyrus' eyes are bloodshot red as tears stream from them like rivers, the otherwise strong man broken by the physical and mental torture he had endured from the cruel man that now stands before him,<span style="color: #FF4000">"I did not know who you were. I would have never attacked you if I had known, you got to believe me."</span><br/><br/><span style="color: #FF0000">"Oh I believe you, great Tyrus, infamous leader of the Dark Hunters gang. Unfortunately, for you, you crossed the boundary of mercy when you touched me and even more so when you recognized me and thought you could possibly take me as a hostage and claim ransom from the king."</span><br/><br/>The teary eyes grow wide on the vagrant before pleading some more,<span style="color: #FF4000">"I...do not..."</span><br/><br/><span style="color: #FF0000">"Come now, Tyrus, don't try to play any games. I am perfectly capable of reading minds much stronger than yours, surely you must know that I can see every thought you have. But, do not fret completely for I will admit that I admire the fact that you were convinced you could actually go through with it. Most men in your position would have recognized me and run away but you did not. You stood your ground, however foolish that proved to be in the end. You should be proud."</span>The mage picks up one of his tools and whispers an incantation which makes small rune-like lights shine upon the small scalpel like blade, turning the tip towards the heart of the bound gang leader.<span style="color: #FF0000"> "And for your courage, you will be rewarded. Your soul shall be consumed by me and you will spend all of eternity serving me. There is no finer prize and soon the rest of your gang will be mine as well."</span><br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: white;background:white;"/></div><br/><br/>It was slightly after dawn when Archibald had finally made his way to the castle, having spent most of the morning washing up the chamber in which he performed the ritual to turn his newly acquired minion. The screams of the man were heard throughout the otherwise quiet town, keeping many of the denizens awake out of fear. This was proven to be true as during his walk the residents that happened to be awake did their best to steer clear from sight of the high mage whose reputation was just as frightful to them as the figure himself. This made the walk to the castle from his elaborate manor quite tranquil for him as he did not have to bother with any of the common trash that he feels plagues the streets.<span style="color: #FF0000"><span style="font-style: italic">If only the king would allow me to turn them all into my slaves</span></span>, he thought to himself as he pushed open a hidden door on the side of the castle that made way for a long tunnel, at the end of which leads to one of the smaller libraries which holds many of the Archmage's tomes and other magical parchments. He ensures that both doors to the tunnel are closed securely before leaving the small library and walking the halls of the castle.<br/><br/>As he walks through the desolate tunnels, many of the servants preparing for the day in other rooms most likely, he catches at the far end of the hall the figure of General Francis hastily marching towards the direction of the king's chambers, provoking the curiosity of Archibald,<span style="color: #FF0000"> "Now what could he be possibly doing?"</span>He picks up his pace a bit to try and keep the General in his view while staying back far enough as to not alert him to the mage's presence. The mage follows until Francis makes it to the chamber which was assumed to hold the king but does not go all the way to the entrance and instead hangs back to get a feel for the conversation that will no doubt ensue.