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Thomas nodded and followed Trinity, all the while his thoughts on the prince.

"A war is spreading through all the territories... I fear for our people. We are no longer strong enough to fight alone," his face showed for the first time the strain he was feeling, "I cannot pretend I have a plan."

"Your highness, perhaps this is not something you should be telling me..."

"It is," he said quietly, still studying his maps.

"Then perhaps this is not the time." The prince turned around, his eyes blazing. "I had a vision. You and another ancient with green eyes led our army at the side of our new ruler. A victory march," his eyes dimmed and he took a deep breath, "I will not be around much longer."

"Sire, don't say that. It's my job to protect you." The prince waved Thomas's remark away. "I have the Sight, Thomas. Don't patronize me. I know I will soon meet my end. But there is something you need to do. You must not tell another living soul. Do you swear?"

"With my life, sire."

"Good... Now, listen carefully..."

Thomas snapped back to attention dimly aware they had been walking for a while. The sun beat down on him mercilessly and he realized he had not taken in a word she had said. He leaned against a wall and took a swig of water from his canteen.

"Where are we going," he asked.

Thomas nodded. "I'm fine. Just... I'm fine," he lied, pressing his palm to the side of his head and squinting in pain. He couldn't control his flashbacks, and they were becoming more frequent and more vivid. He gasped in pain and quickly took some more water to try and mask it. He coughed.

His arms were covered in blood as he withdrew them from within the prince's chest. He quickly placed the small wooden box into his messenger bag which was strapped across his torso. He threw a last, miserable glance at his commander before closing the coffin quietly and slipping out the window into the night.

"The... The vampire lord has been here for three cycles - three months," Thomas corrected his military speech, "Three months."

He jumped onto the roof below silently - He tried to shut out the memory - The city below was still; the sun would not rise for another hour - He grimaced at Trinity and tried to stand without the support of the wall - The day of mourning would see that he met no one in the streets... but if he was caught... He lept to the next roof.

He reached into his boot and drew his knife, cutting his palm. The memory faded. He sheathed the knife and pulled a cloth from his pocket, tying it around his palm. "Sorry about that. So the mines? What is it you need to show me there?"

Thomas clenched his jaw. "No, I must press on. I cannot afford to waste one moment." His thoughts flitted back to the war. As they walked, he decided that he had to confide in her. "Before our dear late prince died - gods rest his soul - he told me a number of important things. One was about this vampire lord that I now seek. He is weak now, but getting stronger all the time. At the end of this week, when the moon completes its cycle and it is at it's fullest and brightest, he will be most powerful. The prince had the gift of Sight. He saw this lord destroying your town - killing men, women, and even children. He saw the buildings burning and every living thing turning to ash at his touch. That is why I must destroy him while he is still weakened." He frowned. "Most of the noblemen and high-ranking commanders on the front lines thought the prince's sight had been interpreted incorrectly; I know better than to dismiss it as such." He took another draft of water.

"I am a Runner. Runners are swift, silent, and strong. They are the first to lead a charge into battle. When we are fighting, we protect no one. We have one job and one job only - be the first ones to cross swords and the last ones to leave the field to cover retreat. Outside of combat, we are assigned to protect nobles and royalty. I was to protect the prince," he added quietly before continuing, "When we are not on the front lines or in the camps, we are performing our only other job - assasination. That is why it is my duty to destroy this lord. It's very urgent. So, I need to get to those mines today. You must show me what you saw... and tell me everything..."

They reached the mines just outside of the town. The sky began to darken. "Rainy season," he mumbled in annoyance. He put his hand on the first support beams around the entrance and it hit him - the stench of death. "Stay here," he commanded, sprinting into the mine. He slipped into his role of a savage runner easily. He had been born and trained from birth for this. He had never known anything else. He followed the scent of blood and death through the mines, running at impossible speeds in silence. Warning signs flashed past him as he ran - he ignored them. He reached a huge cavern; the path ended here. He jumped and plumeted down toward sharp and jagged stalagmites. He landed on another path below, rolling on impact to absorb some of the shock and leaping to his feet immediately. He continued onward into another darkened passage. She had better not follow me, he thought to himself, realizing it was just the sort of thing she might do. Women! He rolled his eyes and slowed his pace. He's here somewhere. I can feel - A blow stuck the side of his face.

Instinctively, he rolled out of the way and struck out with his boot. It connected with ribs. He felt a satisfying snap. A growl. He ducked as a fist came flying out and kicked once more; this time the heel of his boot landed on the tibia. He felt his attacker's calf break in half. The hooded figure went down hard. He fumbled with something inside his robes and withdrew a copper whistle. He blew. Damn it! He could feel the vampire's presence fade. He had fled. He angrily reached down and snapped the thrall's neck. He was dead. He threw back the man's hood and nodded. The vampire lord's thrall had all the common traditional markings - solid black eyes, red symbols tattooed on his shaved head, tongue cut out. "Figures," he said with a frustrated sigh. He heard footsteps heading toward him from another side passage opposite the one he had entered through. He tensed, his body coiled for attack, and peered into the gloom.

Thomas saw Trinity coming around the corner. "Damn, Trinity. I was about to snap your head off! I thought you were going to wait?" He relaxed his pose. "Never mind. The lord took off. This is his thrall." Seeing the look on her face, he added, "He's dead. The whistle... I think it doubles as a concealing charm. I feel it's aura. That would explain why I couldn't sense him." He reached down and yanked it from his neck, re-stringing it around his own. He threw the man's body over his shoulder and nodded toward the passage. "Lead the way, if you would be so kind," he told her.

They walked along in silence for a while, Thomas making mental notes of notches in the wall, blood droplets here and there along the floor, signs of someone living down in the mines. More than once he stopped and smelled the blood, making sure to distinguish between thralls - those who gave blood willingly to their masters - and victims.

"Interesting," he mumbled to himself. Eventually they broke into sunlight. He dumped the body on the ground. "Let's see... I'll need to get him to an undertaker and see if anyone can identify him. I'll also need to find a permanant guide and get a map of the mines. I want to know where he could have escaped to. Know where I can find a guide?"

He turned to her.

"A merchant. Fine. I'd ask you, but I need someone who can defend themselves. I mean, did you have a plan charging in there like that. Suppose you were caught. What were you planning to do?" He shook his head. "Honestly..."

He jogged off toward the town before she could reply, no doubt angering her. But he couldn't think on that now. He had to send word to the crown. They were having a summit and they needed to know about the thralls. No one in Otherworld knew of the ancient ones their rulers were going to meet, but the last prince had told him every last detail. He didn't like how complicated the matters were getting, especially since the ancient ones were aiding the vampires. He knew they could not stay hidden forever. Especially now that settlers were pouring into the area.

He slowed down as he reached the market area, attracting curious stares for his blood stained uniform - and just his uniform alone. He approached the nearest man. "Excuse me, sir. Where might I find the undertaker?" Trinity apprared at his side, seeming annoyed.

Night fell as he delivered his message in the white fire just outside of town. The new prince's form was clear within. "And you are sure there are more thralls?"

"Yes, sire."

"How many?"

"Maybe fifty? A bit less? They should be plotting some sort of retalliation; it's their nature. They may even attack tonight. I have a feeling they will." The prince nodded. "Keep a close eye on the town. Kill any thralls you find, but try to do so discretely. I have my hands full here. There won't be much I can do until I arrive. I leave tonight. If you have any problems, use your best judgement." Thomas nodded as the fire vanished. He ran silently and swiftly back toward town through the trees. He lept onto the wall of the nearest building and scaled it quickly, perching himself on the roof. There were very few people out tonight.

A breeze came to him softly, carrying a sweet scent of bread and candle wax. His yellow eyes were glowing in the dark, taking in every minute detail. He could feel it - the thralls were awakening. In a few hours, the town would be in turmoil...

Thomas heard the first thrall sprinting through an alley to his right. He jumped down, twisting its torso until it ripped in half. The next one appeared in the main street, and another and another. He saw someone standing there. What are they doing!? He lept forward, tearing them in half skillfully and quietly. "Shhh," he said to the figure in the lane. "You need to get - you?" He groaned in frustration. "Just... keep it quiet or our beloved king will have our heads," he told her, "You think you can defend yourself? Let's see it."

Two more came running at them. He dodged the first, leaving it for Trinity. The second swiped at him with a long dagger. He dodged swiftly. It blew a whistle, signaling retreat. Anymore threat was gone. Satisfied at finding no more hostile energy when reaching out with his gift, he punched a hole into his assailant's stomach. It fell, dead. He turned to see how Trinity was faring.