Tani caught Sha’im’s look and smiled at her, a way of expressing a friendly understanding of the situation. Rounds in the market particularly were rarely boring but this morning seemed to be extra active. Tani had too many things pulling her in different directions at once. The order to keep the peace pulled her one way, while the order to great new comers took her another. Sighing she rubbed her temple for a second before turning back to the cube with the hologram. “You are most welcome, Bordertown inhabitant. If you should require anything else, do not hesitate to ask.”<br/><br/>~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~<br/>The Chief of the enforcers was right to be nervous. There were dark happenings in Bordertown, events that were about to engulf the port-world that if left to its own devices might spread to and eat away at the surrounding realms. Dark politics and social upheaval were just around the bend. The chief felt it in his gut, spurred on by snippets of whispers in the dirtiest allies in the darkest parts of Bordertown. They were not a specialty force, but perhaps they would soon need to be.<br/><br/>The events, arguably began with those whispers. Deals made in the shadows and alliances formed in secret between the scum of the city were the first twitches of the quake that was about to hit. The first real vibration felt, however, was a death.<br/><br/>Felinor, Wiseman among the local hedgewitch population, staggered down the alley towards the town square. His hand was on is abdomen, as if to keep the blood from flowing out of the stab wound. Instead, it simply seeped from between his fingers to soak into his clothes. He left tiny droplets, barely noticeable to the uncareful eye, behind him. His breath rasped from between clenched teeth and his eyes unfocused. In short, he was dying. He knew the stab wound, created by a certain build of dagger infused with magic, was not healable. He knew that magic could not heal him and technology would fail to save him. There was nothing for it but to head towards the square and hope to speak with someone, reaching someplace to tell what his murderer looked like, before death came to claim him.