While they were sitting in the inn drinking and eating, Reza entered the small tavern. After spotting them he walked over quickly grabbing a chair from another table and seated it beside Laban, not listening to the complaints of some farmers that occupied the other table. Without saying a word, he signaled the innkeeper to bring him a beer. Laban asked in a hushed voice "So what have you found out?"

Reza waited a moment because the inn keeper was bringing his beer and after he had left Reza started to explain and confirmed the basic information they had gotten by the barman: "I talked with Gwyn’s wife. It seems that the sea people conquered the city by surprisingly infiltrating it via the harbor and then overwhelmed the King and his guard in a single raid! The normal people didn’t even have the chance to take up their arms and fight. That was nearly three months ago. At first the council of elders and the druid council tried to negotiate with the sea-people to find a way to live with each other amicable. But they simply decided to rule the city by means of force and more and more people have been disappearing. Sometimes women but mostly men vanish, especially young and strong ones. People believe they are being taken somewhere and being sold as slaves. The sea-people have not enough manpower to rule the countryside around Alessina. Those villages are basically left to their own devices, however sometimes the sea people try to exert their authority by terrorizing the countryside with chariots. Sometimes they kill or abduct men and women or plunder villages. Also, it is said that they sometimes abduct travelers."

"I guess now we know why they attacked us on the way here", said Mabon.

"What about Gwyn himself?", asked Laban.

"Gwyn wanted to oppose the invaders and secretly tried to organize some people for an insurrection. When some of his guys were randomly apprehended and were being shipped of as slaves, he tried to free them but was captured himself. His wife believes that he will be either killed or send of as a slave himself. She begs us to stop them. We may not have much time. Several ships of the sea-people have already arrived, and she believes soon more people will be taken away."

"It’s difficult to come up with a plan spontaneously", said Mabon frowning.

"On the contrary”, said Reza, “Gwyn’s wife told me that parts of the floor of the royal palace have collapsed and that there is now an entrance into the palace dungeons that we can use from outside to get into the palace for a raid. She gave me a detailed description how to find that entrance from the sewer system in the Old City."

Laban was not convinced: "And if I was the sea-people I would guard this entrance carefully, which might be the reason why nobody of the townsfolk might have tried to enter the palace that way and free their people."

"Maybe they just don’t have the balls", said Reza looking at his cousin, who was deep in his thoughts. "What do you think, boss?", asked Reza.

"I think we should give it a shot. Tonight!" He hammered with his fist onto the table that their glasses and mugs jumped up. Mabon got some beer on his cloak but decided not to complain. The gang was too tense for being bugged because of some beer on a cloak.

Brendan looked alarmed and said, while sending pleading looks towards Mabon and Dil-Shad: “Wait, wait, Laban, that makes no sense. We need to wait, spy out and make a witty plan. Even if Gwyn was the incarnation of one of your Gods, I am not willing to run brainlessly into my doom. Laban, we will follow you wherever you go. But for Heaven’s sake: Think more than one second!"

Dil-Shad opened her mouth for the first time in the discussion and to Brendan’s deep disappointment, she took Laban’s point: "Considering that Gwyn might have no time left we just need to do something."

Mabon gave Brendan a short look and shook his head. “We must strike tonight, although I understand Brendan’s point. But, my friend, we don’t have enough time for espionage.”

Laban was content. "Exactly! We must do so as soon as possible! And tonight, they don't know that we have walked around and gathered information. The longer we stay here without offering our mercenary services while at the same time scouting and gathering information the more mistrustful the sea-people will get.

Tonight, their leaders might just have received a report about our arrival without really planning how to watch over us. We need to strike tonight and catch them completely off guard!" Brendan made a face as if he had been eating a lemon. “Brendan, please do me the favor and don’t look at me like that. You know that we know that you are right in what you are saying. Normally we would send you out on your spying mission. But tonight, we must act quickly without hesitation.”

Brendan sighed, stood up, grabbed his cloak, patted his hunting knife and said: “Let’s go then. What are you lazy buggers waiting for? An additional invitation?” He pretended wanting to get up to walk away, but Mabon grabbed his arm to hold him in place. “Sit down and shut up!”

Now they started their discussion. Laban was not completely in the wrong however striking quickly without preparation could end in disaster. Mabon murmured: "It would be good if the night was without clouds so that I could see the stars.”

"Your Goddess has to sort her dresses tonight and won’t help us. But steel, surprise and skill will!", Laban said grinning. But Mabon wasn’t in the mood for jokes about his Goddess. "Be careful, Laban. Both my Goddess and I have limited patience when it comes to arrogant non-believers. You should still remember what my Goddess did for us in Calemond."

Laban was still grinning: "Alright, alright, there was some light, and some people were burned to a crisp. I remember and now stop bragging about it. Our swords killed more people than your Goddess, but I won’t bully her anymore. So, nobody needs to threaten nobody. Only sea-people should die tonight!"

Laban put some money on the table and the mercenaries left the inn, directly heading to the lane Gwyn’s wife Rosey had described to Reza. Their first impression was confirmed. Alessina was a clean, comfortable city. The houses were well tended and large, the streets were broad, and they came across many shops and stalls. “The people seem to have good money here. Otherwise, they could not buy that kind of stuff. You don’t find such goods in that amount too often”, Mabon whispered.

“Alessina used to be very rich in the past due to its natural resources, the harbor and its skilled craftsmen. That had been declining in the past decades, but the city is still wealthy. No wonder the sea-people chose Alessina for their assault”, Laban answered quietly.

They tried to stay in the shadows of the houses, while Brendan was sneaking ahead of them. He had the best senses and could hear “a mouse taking a pee” as he used to phrase it in his known modesty. From time to time, he came back to tell them what he had encountered. Beside a bunch of drunken sea-people and a small group of three guards there was nothing alarming. Unmolested and unharmed they came to the specific sewer entrance that should lead them under the city and directly into the dungeons of the palace that lied only one block away. At least that was what they were hoping for.

The sewer entrance was gated, but Brendan opened the weak lock of the gate with a little file he always carried for such occasions. From time to time the gang had to break into (or out of) a room, so Brendan thought it was useful to invest the money into a tool that could easily be hidden but had the power to rival even professionally secured doors.

That gate was as easy to open as to kill a sleeping guard. The smell of rotten water, feces and waste bid them welcome and it became pitch black as soon as they had moved some 20 meters away from the gate and into the tunnel. None of them liked it but there was no alternative if they wanted to find Gwyn and maybe free the city from the sea-people (although especially Brendan still did not understand from a financial point of view why they would do so – a city without a King meant a city without a financially powerful client in need of some swords-for-hire).

Laban sparked a small torch. “That’s all the light I can give us. Under no circumstances must they see us in the dark. I will stay behind so that you shield the light with your bodies but still have a better sight. Brendan will lead us with his rat’s eyes acquainted to the dark. You must feel homely, boy, don’t you?”

Brendan, who was walking next to the warrior. suddenly turned to Laban, the eyes wide open with blank terror. He pointed with his finger at Laban’s shoulder. “Wha-wha-wha-what’s that on your shoulder? For heaven’s sake! It looks like a gigantic rat. It is going to bite you!”, he hissed, watching Laban filling up with fear and agony.

Their leader despised rats as nothing in the world and would become small like a child facing these ugly animals that in sewers could easily reach the size of hares. The warrior panicked and hit with his fist hard against his shoulder. There was nothing, only his shoulder. And that hurt now after a hard blow with the metal glove Laban always wore in battle. He looked with blunt hate and clenched fists at Brendan, who just was just grinning spiteful: “Welcome home, Laban.”

Mabon had enough. “You two fuckers shut up now! I don’t want to be slaughtered in a fucking sewer because neither of you can hold his foul mouth shut for even just a minute. Brendan, do what you do best beside telling horseshit and go out scouting. And you, Laban, are our leader. So, behave like a leader! Why do you have always to provoke this Kom-Broghian scoundrel and why do you let him provoke you? He only waits for a chance for payback and you know that! We are possibly facing hell on earth and our leader has nothing better to do than go off fighting with his own mercenary that is infamous for his wicked tongue in almost every civilized part of our world!”

The magician had become really angry and turned away saying: “If I die tonight because of your childish games, I will raise hell and high water to give the two of you not a single moment of peace again, be it in life or in death!”

Then he followed the scarcely audible “plops” of Brendan’s boots in the shallow water of the sewer that everyone else would have ignored as a typical sound in an underground sewer system. But on the contrary to normal “plops” of water, these “plops” of their boots meant death.

After they had been following the corridor for a couple of minutes without seeing or hearing anything, they came to a bend. Had the tunnel been deep and narrow yet, it now broadened so that the three of them could walk side by side. Still, they decided to keep the row they had been forming after Brendan got some distance for scouting. Laban was last, covered their backs and lit them the way with the small torch. Striking enough all of them had been managing not to stumble, crash into the wall or make any loud noises that could startle their enemies.

With the growing size of the corridor the smell increased to. Piles of waste and undefinable dirt flanked their way; turds flew around their boots, and to Laban’s growing unease more and more rats occurred and eyed the intruders suspiciously. Brendan came back. “I have seen a dim light maybe 30 meters away. It comes from a hole in the wall. That must be the entrance into the dungeon of the palace. But I heard nothing. Gentlemen, my lady, the pretty part of our journey is over. Prepare yourselves!”

Brendan led them down the corridor to that specific location. As Rosey had told them, parts of the floor of the royal palace have collapsed and that was true. Here, a great wall was damaged and had opened up a big hole so that they could easily enter another corridor lit with torches from time to time. They were quite new. “I think the sea-people went down here with torches not long ago. Maybe they wanted to check the damage. But I can still hear no sound. Supposedly they don’t mind a hole in the outer underground wall. Who could be so suicidal to enter the dungeon of the palace through the sewer? Oh, wait, that’s us! Maybe we should have brought cake and flowers?”

“Shut up and lead us down the way. Go ahead!”, hissed Dil-Shad, which was a somewhat atypical behavior for her, usually she behaved – in line with her upbringing – more meek and patient but it seems that she was both really alarmed and annoyed by this situation. She didn’t want to be reminded on how crazy their mission was.

When she had fled from slavery she had almost starved to death in the desert. Laban, Mabon and Brendan had found and comforted her and had made her member of the gang soon after. Not that Dil-Shad was easy to scare. But the young woman simply didn’t like dungeons, sewers and basements and preferred the ground level. “The faster we had left this shithole, the better we will feel. So, Brendan, do the lady a favor and SHUT UP!” She had to control herself not to speak up.

Brendan shrugged his shoulders and moved on. They had entered a kind of prison block but the cells, locked with wooden bars, were empty beside one. In a cell in the middle, they found the body of man whose head obviously had been smashed in. Laban had a closer look and sighed in relief seeing it wasn’t his friend Gwyn. “It seems to me as they don’t hold prisoners in high regard?”, Mabon said, more to himself.

“You would kill imprisoned insurgents too. Don’t put a halo on your head, sorcerer!”, Laban grunted. “Let’s move on or can your almighty Goddess resurrect that poor fellow? We could need his sword arm.” Laban pointed at the strong upper body of the young man in the cell that was hardened by physical or fighting – or both.

Mabon kept a straight face but whispered into Laban’s ear: “Watch out that my ‘almighty Goddess’ doesn’t come for you as a mare in your dreams so that you will wet your bed!”

Suddenly Brendan appeared. They hadn’t even noticed that he was gone. “I found stairs leading to an upper level. And I heard voices of at least ten men. Some sounded slurred as if they were drunk which would be luck for us. But I heard” – he looked at Laban – “the voice of one special friend of you, my great leader. Do you remember the guard’s Captain at the city gate you directly fell in love with? He’s yelling orders while he is interrogating prisoners and supposedly dealing evil to them.”

Laban hardened and longed for the hilt of his sword. “We go up and kill the bastards. Brendan, what do you suggest?”

Brendan hadn’t to think long. “Aye, I almost forgot I saw two guards loitering at the top of the stairs with their backs into our direction. Three of us climb the stairs stealthily. If two of you killed the guards, I could shoot at least two more soldiers in the room from my cover on the stairs before they recognize anything. I think they are enjoying the interrogation show of the amicable Captain.

Mabon and Dil-Shad, could you each take out one more soldier from distance as soon as we have paved the way?” The mercenaries nodded and Laban was content. “We will do as you suggest, Brendan! Reza, you and I will kill the guards and then rush into the room as soon as Brendan has killed more of those bastards with his bow. Then we kill them all in single combat. Prepare yourself – and leave the Captain for me. It will be a special pleasure for me to cut his head off!”

Laban would never admit it to the other, but that guard’s Captain nearly made him wet his pants when he had questioned them and had thrown the slurred Kiffian words at him. He wanted his revenge just to be able to look back at this memory with the hindsight of having gotten victory in the end over that guy.

Slowly and watchfully they arrived at the stairs. Brendan was right: They saw two guards completely inattentive at the top of the stairs and heard laughter, the Captain’s hard, yelling voice and quick punches landing on something or obviously rather someone.

“Speak, you rat, or do you want to end like your friend with your head smashed in? I will gladly do so and then take care of your lovely wife myself. Let’s see how she will like it when I make her "entertain" me the whole night long. And when I have finished with her, my men can have her. Do you like that. DO YOU LIKE THAT?”

More that couldn’t understand followed but it was enough. Quick as lightning but quiet as a ghost Laban, Reza and Brendan took the stairs. Brendan crouched in the dark and stringed his bow. Laban and Reza drew their swords and were ready to kill, while Dil-Shad was preparing her slingshot with a ball made of bronze and Mabon was murmuring words with his eyes closed. Dil-Shad could see Brendan aim and Laban counting down with his fingers: three, two, one.

Then all went quick. The guards fell dead to the feet of the mighty southern warriors, Brendan’s bow buzzed and in the moment they hard a cry and the sound of a body crashing to the ground, Brendan shot again. A second later the next cry and the next body crashing to the ground – and then hell broke loose. Laban and Reza rushed with barbaric fury into the room while Brendan took the chance and shot another arrow. Dil-Shad stormed upstairs ready to fire her slingshot and saw a brutal fight going on. Seven warriors of the sea-people had already died, Reza was fighting two at the same time, while Laban was charging the Captain that now took up his huge swords from the ground, shouting some insults at Laban in Kiffian language Dil-Shad didn’t understand. But she hadn’t much time to explore the situation. Quickly she fired her slingshot and hit one soldier that was running up to her and Brendan right between the eyes with the sound of a melon crashing to the ground. He at once fell dead to the ground his limps still somewhat twitching.

At that time Reza had killed his two opponents and flung himself at another foe that tried to stab Brendan from behind who in his turn just had slit the throat of a soldier that had entered the large room from a door on the side, possibly the closet. Without recognizing anything Brendan ran to the other end of the room where another door was just being opened. Two guards came in, weapons drawn, but one fell with Brendan’s hunting knife in the throat still at the threshold; the mercenary had thrown the large knife and was now longing for his smaller dagger he was always wearing in his right boot. But Dil-Shad was quicker. Again, she hit the opponent right between the eyes. The metal shot got stuck in the head.

Brendan quickly closed the door and barred it with the bodies of the fallen. Reza had killed the last man standing, and thus they now watched the fight between the nasty Captain and Laban. The huge warriors were clashing their swords and using their broad upper bodies to charge the opponent. While Laban was using his shield for defense and attacks, the Captain was holding his sword in two hands, dealing out brutal blows. Laban could only deflect the blows or avoid them by deft movement. If he had tried to fully absorb them, it would have broken his shield and probably his arm, too. It seemed to the pack as if the Captain had some advantages and they were ready to interfere for Laban’s support, although disobeying their leader’s strict order. Brendan had his throwing knife ready. He would not hesitate a second to kill the sea-people’s Captain before he could slay Laban who now was finding himself in a defensive position again. Brendan raised his arm unobtrusively but decided to wait, while Reza had his sword ready. He would even jump into the Captain’s blow to protect Laban from any harm.

“I should have killed you and your comrades at the gate, you son of a bitch!” With a fierce attack the captain moved agreesivly forward and try to cut Laban’s shield into half with a heavy blow from above. But Laban had foreseen that attack by the movement of the Captain’s legs. Instead of lifting his shield Laban stepped diagonally forwards swinging his sword horizontally exactly in that moment where the Captain ended his forward motion. The captain stood still, the sword exactly where Laban’s shield should have been and definitely was half a second before. The Captain began to tremble, the sword slipped from his hand and fell with a loud sound on the floor. Laban maintained in his position: the left leg bowed in front, the right leg stretched behind, his sword still in the air. Blood was dropping from the blade. The Captain looked in amazement and put his hand on his chest. Slowly he collapsed and fell silently to the ground. Laban had hit his upper body with a clean horizontal cut that now gaped wide open. The impact of his sword cut had been doubled because the Captain had literally moved into Laban’s blow. The latter had simply used the Captain’s power against his foe.

Laban relaxed, spit into the dead man’s face, cut his head off and cleaned his sword on his cloak. “I swore you I would take his head. And here you go! It was a good fight, but now let’s see whom this bastard had been abusing before we put him and his fellows to death.” The person, obviously a man, had a sack over his face and was bound to a chair that miraculously hadn’t fallen down. And luckily the person didn’t seem to be harmed by the battle around him.

Mabon had been standing at the top of the stairs while the battle had been raging. Seeing that his comrades would overcome the foes, he didn’t want to waste his magic powers for nothing more than killing one opponent. Furthermore, he had a bad feeling and normally his intuition didn’t fail him. He cautiously watched the room and was prepared to throw some petty magic at enemies.

“That cannot be all. It was too easy. If it was that simple the people of Alessina would have…” He was pulled out of his thoughts – and found himself right. The front door exploded and crashed into the room, the bodies of the dead that Brendan had used as a barrier rolled over the floor and a dozen heavily armed men flooded the room, led by a huge soldier that barked attacking orders.

Laban grunted “To battle!” and wanted to storm off, when all of a sudden heavy thunder rolled through the room. Everyone was standing still, looking at the ceiling. The thunder was inside the room but how could that be? Mabon looked up, too, but he could see through the ceiling and the roof of the palace up to the High Heavens where his Goddess was sitting on her throne. He had asked her for a sign of power in a situation of dire need which was now. And the sign had come! The thunder was rolling ever louder, men got on their knees pressing their hands on the ears and screaming in terror. So did Mabon’s comrades, but Brendan was smart enough to signal them to crawl back to the stairs as fast as they could and to take the prisoner on the chair with them. He had seen Mabon connecting with his Goddess and knew that would take a bitter end for their foes.

The company crouched behind Mabon and could only hear the thunder now in a very long distance. Mabon seemed to have cast the spell in a way that only the center of room was affected and have possibly built a magical barricade around them. The sorcerer was still looking up with a dark, intimidating face speaking words only he and his Goddess could understand. Meanwhile their opponents crouched on the floor in terror and fear – but if they thought the thunder was all they would have to get through, they were bitterly mistaken. Because thunder seldom comes without lightning and thus suddenly thunderbolts came out of nothing. They tore the air in the room apart with flashing lights and roaring crashes. They didn’t have to wait long until the first soldier was hit by a thunderbolt and grilled by the disastrous electrical powers Mabon had invoked with his sorcery. The soldier cried in pain while the electricity ran through his body. One after the other was struck by the lighting that was magic but natural, nonetheless. None of them – neither friend nor foe – had ever seen such magic before. A minute later a bunch of corpses filled the room with the acrid smell of burned flesh.

The four soldiers looked amazed at Mabon – who suddenly fell to the ground in pure exhaustion. Dil-Shad comforted him, while Laban and Reza could eventually take care of the blindfolded and bound man on the chair and Brendan covered the door into a great hallway that was empty and silent. “Make haste”, Brendan ordered. “We cannot be sure that we have killed the whole company!” Laban and Reza freed the man and lifted the sack. “Gwyn!”, cried Laban happily. “We have found you!” He looked into the bruised face of his friend who was as weak-kneed as Mabon who, with Dil-Shads help, had managed to get on his feet. “Laban”, Gwyn sighed, “please get me out of this shithole now!”

Thus, the mercenaries and Gwyn made their way back to the sewer system to get out of the palace as soon as possible. Gwyn led them to the house of his wife’s uncle Aldreck who was very old and didn’t belong to the suspects of their enemies. They took them in their middle as if he was drunk, ready to slay everyone that was too suspicious of their business. But no one, except two homeless beggars and one drunkard, crossed their way. Only an hour had ticked away since they had left the inn. An hour that could have changed their lives forever.