Emitting a slow and crooked smile, she listened in beneath the windowsill of MacFadden as she spoke. A popular roost she nested when once a Holy Knight, she found comfort in knowing that the hidden alcove in the Red Lion's guildhall still served some purpose.


Gathering her belongings, Anikka donned the shroud of the assassin to find Carrington in Thidranki this eve...to kill him.

Carrington smeared red warpaint over his face and looked to the men around him preparing for war.


"Spare any warriors that wear the colors red and yellow." he commanded, "They have families...a mind of their own....working men."


Carrington folded his arms and narrowed his eyes.


"But for the assassins...cut of their heads and send them back in a wicker basket."


"Most of them will die in futile attempts to destroy us. Remember...those who don plate, spare."


"For the Archers....cut off their hands and spear one of their eyes."


Carrington made the sign of the cross...his faith not shaken...but determined not to follow the political notions and agenda of a clouded Albion. If he had to go through his former realm mates to get to the monarchy...


So be it.

 

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Carrington looked at Toki with a shocked look on his face.


"Actually, that doesn't really surprise me. I know Arguyle knows what's good....he knows what's truly right."


Carrington sighed.


"But, he has a bias against order. There's a giant flow we're all caught up in...I'm just going against it."


Carrington finished up with his war-paint.


"He probably hates me now. But, that doesn't bother me. If I could get him to think about what he's doing for one day...I could died out there today, and be happy."

 

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Arguyle watched as his Assassins walked out of his office and to their destinies. They would be praised as heroes to the Order in the Book Of Records.


He poured himself a glass of scotch and sipped it.


"Carrington Whitethorne, know this, you are a traitor to the Order of the Red Lions. You have deceived and betrayed us for the last time. I have unleashed the hounds of hell upon you and I shall never call them off."


Then Arguyle wondered if he had made the right decision.

Arguyle sat behind his desk and pulled quill and parchment from the drawer. Dipping the quill into the inkwell he wrote.


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My Dearest Toki,


Seasons have passed and I have long wished to write to you. To talk to you. To hold you. Until now I have been unable to do so.


I write to warn you that there is a traitor among you. Carrington Whitethorne is much worse than a traitor to his country. He is a traitor to his friends. A traitor to his family. He pledges his loyalty and then breaks that pledge as easily as he breathes the crisp air of the morning.


Do not trust this man. Do not think for a moment that he has not a personal agenda in all that he does. He does not understand the concepts of loyalty, honor and friendship. He is loyal only to himself. He honors only his own wants and desires. He throws away friendship at a whim.


I will hunt him. I will send my people to hunt him. We shall not rest until our task is done and our task will not be done whilst he breathes the air of the world. I beg of you to spread word to your folk. For none that harbor this man will be safe from my vengeance.


With undying love,


Arguyle MacFadden


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Arguyle then rolled the note as tightly as he could. He tied the note to the foot of a specially marked pigeon. The only one in his coop that knows the route to Toki Rainbow. Then he released the bird.


"Fly my little friend! Fly!!"

Carrington stood on the ramparts with two rangers, who were giving him the days facts. Albion would be out in force tonight...and they would need to defend.


Carrington sighed and looked to the air. Something caught his eye.


A carrier bird, flying high over head.


Carrington slammed his spiked club down against the wall of the rampart.


"Shoot it! Shoot it!" he ordered as the archers began drawing their arrows.


Arrow after arrow whished through the air, but to no avail. But, at last by a complete fluke of luck, the arrow caught, not the bird, but the letter, and send it tumbling down into the keep.


Without wasting a beat Carrington scooped up the note as it hit the ground. He immediately recognized the Red Lions seal. He tore it open and read it...fury coming into his eyes as he did.


"DAMN IT!" Carrington shouted angrily, smashing his club into the the wall, "I knew it! I knew he would NEVER be able to see!"


The rangers watched Carrington in horror....having never seen his temper get the best of him.


Carrington yelled in utter fury and sent his spiked club flying over the rampart wall. At last, he began to settle down. He closed his eyes, fuming in anger...grasping to hold his temper.


"......see this is delivered to Toki Rainbow." he said slowly, his voice quivering, "And send her my apologies."


The ranger nodded and took off, letter in hand.


Carrington climbed the ramparts and looked over it.


"So this is going to be how it is, Arguyle MacFadden."


This is war.

 

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It was a raucous night in the Laughing Lion public house, yet MacIvor sat at a small table by himself, sipping away at an ale and staring at nothing in particular. The local Glastonbury constabulary had hired him to help hunt some bandits that were plaguing the area. The hunt had gone very well, and as was his custom Mac decided to spend his wages sampling the region's libations.


His little ritual was interrupted by the arrival of Guildenstern, one of the Red Lions messengers and a man of a barely tolerable disposition at the best of times.


"Hard at work I see, eh Blackthistle?" said Guildenstern, with a smarmy countenance.


Mac ignored the annoying man and continued drinking.


"Always good for conversation, aren't you Macivor. Well, I wouldn't get too comfortable here, I have a message from Lord MacFadden requesting your presence at the Lions guild hall in Camelot post haste."


Mac held out his hand, still staring at nothing. Guildenstern handed over the message, and was promptly dismissed with a rude gesture and a "sod off" from the mercenary.


Mac lazily opened the sealed envelope and read the message. He read with disinterest, wondering what sort of honourable crusade Arguyle MacFadden wanted him to join this time.


The phrase "Lions of the Shadow" caught his eye, and a thin smile played upon Mac's lips. It seemed his lordship MacFadden needed someone to take care of his dirty laundry. Mac was now greatly intrigued.


He finished off his tankard of ale, slamming the empty pewter receptacle on the table's surface. Throwing the barkeep a silver piece, he set off for Camelot, eager to learn just what Arguyle had in store for the Lions of the Shadow.

Arguyle was just walking out of the Hall of the Lion when he saw Macivor enter the courtyard. He stopped and waved the man over.


"Mac, I have received grave news from Thidranki. Reports are that Carrington Whitethorne has betrayed us once again. This time I will have his head. I have dispatched a scout and two assassins to hunt the man down. I want you to oversee the mission. I want you to ensure that I receive his head Macivor." said the Paladin giving the Mercenary a steely glare.

Arguyle gave Mac his orders, then threw the mercenary a leather pouch filled with gold coins. Mac weighed the pouch in his right hand, then, satisfied at the estimated result, gave Arguyle a confident smirk.


"The wee bugger willnae survive the week, of that I assure ye."

Carrington paced back and forth. He was still infuriated by the letter he had intercepted earlier in the day. A young ranger looked at him.


"What do you wish to do, sir?"


"....." Carrington stopped pacing, "Send for Asylyn. But, return soon. I'll need you to send for Tayana....there is something I need to speak with her about."


Carrington folded his arms as the young ranger began to leave.


"Not to worry....I already have the top assassins out for MacFadden. Jander will definately get the job done. If not...I have a proposition for Asylyn."


The ranger nodded and quickly left.


A young champion made his way up to him, "Sir," he asked, "Why do you fight?"


Carrington rubbed his chin in thought for a moment, his insides still bubbling with anger. At last, he answered.


"I am a hypocrite." he muttered, "I say I fight to end this war, when now I am caught up in a personal fued against my former Lord."


The champion tried to comfort him, but Carrington would have none of it.


"And until one of us is dead, it will never end."

 

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