Chapter One

“Criminal.”

“Criminal.”

“Criminal.”

If not for the chilling convictions of the old men of the Council, the room with the black-stone tables and ivory floors would be completely silent. Each one of the twenty five men would stand on their legs, fat with age, place the tips of their withered, plump fingers on the table, and choose if the man kneeling before them was guilty.

“Criminal.”

“Free him.”

The man on trial looked up at this hopeful note. His face was hard set, light brown hair shadowing his eyes, also brown but a much darker shade. His features looked worn with time and endurance, though he couldn't have been more than twenty-five. One out of five- at least twelve more of the Council had to give a merciful 'free him' if he was to escape punishment.

“Criminal.”

The odds were certainly tipped away from him.

The man turned his gaze towards the center of the table, where sat the old King and ever-lovely Queen. It was apparent by their dull, empty vaults for eyes and laxed positions in their thrones they neither cared about the trial nor were paying the least bit of attention.

How fortunate, he thought, the upper left corner of his lip lifting into a snarl, we of this land are to have such diligent, righteous monarchs and to receive such fair, deserved trials.

With another nine 'criminal's, the Council was silent. His last hope rest in the King and Queen, who chose to either grant a pardon to the victim or choose a supposedly fitting punishment.

The usual choices of punishment consisted of exile, a lashing, or execution.

The Royal Herald stood, then bowed deeply.

“Oh royal majesties of whom we all love, sing, and pray to, it rests in your hands the fate of this one man, Hadrian of Olior, convicted of the dark crime of unforgivable murder. Speak to us, tell us your decision of whether to spare his life and soul or deliver just retribution upon his body. Speak to us, guide us-”

He was interrupted by the set of large oaken doors being thrust open, and the appearance of a messenger, panting, sweat dripping down his red face.

“My lord... my lady... I have just... just returned...” he could scarcely get the words out of his mouth.

“Someone get the poor lad some water so he can talk.” The man being tried stood and looked around the room, his furrowed brow daring someone to not do as he asked.

Soon enough, water and a few dry crackers were brought, and the exhausted messenger was sat down on a chair. Once he had caught his breath, he spoke again.

“I just returned from the city of Thet, and the townsfolk threaten to rebel, if they are not saved from the trouble that now plagues them. They claim a beast, a Chimera, a goat-sucker, creeps into their pens at night and steals their live-stalk. They say they are running out of food, and their fear will be enough to ignite revolution if something is not done.”

“Quite terrible,” the Head Councilman said in a voice that sounded as if he didn't think it was the least bit terrible. “We can send someone down there, but you interrupted us in a most grievous matter of a trial, which itself is a crime. But, before we think about trying you, we must finish the present one. Majesties, have you decided how to punish this man for murder?”

The King's eyes flitted over to Hadrian, who was standing in the corner, a single guard stationed by him to ensure there were no escape attempts. “Murder... guilty of murder...”

Hadrian's face shifted to anger. “Your majesty, yes, I did kill that man, but under these circumstances I think it is pard-”

“Silence. Majesty, please, let us hear your sentence.”

“I've been silent this whole time! You have not even given me a chance to explain myself.” Hadrian took a step forward, the guard placing the neck of his spear over his chest so he could go no further.

“Silence!” The Head yelled, stamping his foot on the ground. “You killed a man and were sentenced for your crimes. Now, my King, I-”

“You told me to kill him,” Hadrian spat, pushing the wood off of his chest but not moving from his spot. “It is not my fault you sent me after him then, while I was gone, decided he was not guilty.”

The Head opened his mouth to speak, but the King stood and instantly the room fell completely silent.

“I have made my decision.” He sounded old, tired, indifferent. “Murder is... the worst of crimes, and the man himself has said he had done it. Now, for the punishment to his crimes...”

“My King, have I not worked for you for several years as your loyal assassin? I disposed of all your enemies, dampened my own morality to keep you safe. I was only doing as I have always done. You wish to convict me now?” Hadrian sounded desperate now, falling to his knees and extending his hands in front of him.

Then the Queen spoke, something that rarely happened. “Tristan... think sense. Our land is at the verge of a revolt and you want to punish a man without giving him a chance to save himself.”

Hadrian saw his chance to save himself right then, and took it. Invoking sympathy, he crawled to the feet of the Queen, clutching her hands on her lap while the guards around her all pointed iron spear-tips at him, shifting uncomfortably. “My Queen, I thank you for your kindness, but the words are true and I did kill an innocent, though it was accidental, I still feel I must repent in some way.” His eye's suddenly lit up, as if just then he had had some great epiphany. “What if I went to solve the troubles of Thet. Calm them. If it is indeed some beast such as a Chimera, I will slay it, if not, I will find the source of the missing goats and stop it.”

King Tristan slowly nodded his wrinkling head. “If you can solve this predicament before disaster occurs, then you shall be pardoned. Not and you shall be executed for your crime.”

“Thank you, your majesties. I will do my best in aiding Gåntham.” Hadrian stood, a grim smile appearing on his face.

“Yes, yes,” the Queen's voice was light. “Go now. Nauthos be with you.”

“And with you.” Hadrian turned and left as quickly as he could, only stopping to grab his crossbow from the table. Then he was gone.

It's a day's ride to Thet from Tristan City, granted the weather is fine and the horse is fast. The sun was shining rather brightly for the late fall and Hadrian's horse was one he had trained perfectly, so he managed to reach the town several hours before the sun set. Those several hours were spent questioning the townsfolk about their troubles.

All accounts were the same. Each disgruntled man and woman first explained how they had sent four messages to the King and it was about time someone came, then dropped into the repeating tale: they'd fall asleep one night with however so many goats or sheep or cows or pigs, then wake with one, sometimes even two fewer. It'd been going on for several months and at least one person was robbed every two or three nights. Then their small gardens began to be rustled through and stolen from. Their already diminutive food supply of meat and vegetation was dwindling to be quite tiny. Only last week they had decided to move all animals into one large pen and declare the meat for the whole community, because some had lost all their chickens and goats and were starving.

It was becoming a very serious problem for the people who dwelt in Thet, who were a close little village that refused to trade much with anyone.

A rebellion from just them would certainly not be fatal for the kingdom, but it might be enough to spark others. For a while now there had been general discontent among all citizens of Gåntham and even a minor thing such as this could send everyone into complete chaos.

This country was teetering on the edge of destruction. Now it was Hadrian's job to shift it closer to solid ground.

Of course, he'd done this before. Threats to the King? Disposed of easily. Rumors? Silenced. Criminals that spread fear in an already terrified town? Killed like bugs.

So, when night came, Hadrian took his crossbow and multiple daggers and went to the community pen of animals and waited. According to the townsfolk the last robbery had happened three nights ago, and it was about time for another. Whether it be a chimaera or something else, Hadrian was ready.

Of course, he hadn't thought about the fact that he hadn't slept much at all for more than two days. The quiet was nice; much better than the prison filled with the groans of other criminals that the Council had thrown him in. It was brisk, but brisk was much more pleasant than the feel of other sweating bodies rubbing against him.

He was asleep before the moon was midway through the sky.

Hadrian would have stayed pleasantly in his dreams if it wasn't for the bleating of a goat. In an instant he went from dancing around some beautiful, lush forest to scrambling around for his crossbow, cursing himself for falling asleep.

Once he had wrapped his hand around it, he took off after the sound of the goat, which was quickly disappearing into the woods on the south side of Thet. Soon he spotted the bright white fir of the goat, and then a shadow of a figure trying to pull it away.

“Shh! Stupid goat... stop bleating and move your- oh...” The figure was whispering harshly to the animal, which was stubbornly remaining in the same place and filling the air with loud bleats.

Hadrian notched an arrow on his crossbow and aimed at the figure. “Step away from the goat, sir.” He felt a bit ridiculous. He was used to catching murderers and thieves- not petty fools taking goats from small villages.

The figure looked up, startled. He couldn't discern facial features, it was still hardly more than a shadow, and yet something was off about the person. Something he couldn't quite place, not before the figure turned and dashed away, leaving the goat standing there.

Hadrian was after him, tripping over the branches and through bushes. Clearly his target was much more familiar with the terrain because they quickly lost Hadrian.

He stopped in a clearing, placing his hands on his knees and trying to catch his breath. Well, at least he knew it was just a person responsible for the disappearances, not some creature of legend.

Easy enough to catch. He'd wait for morning's light to track the man down.

At least, that was the plan until he heard someone step behind him. He spun around.

“I'm sorry,” a voice said, and then he was back in his dream's lush forest.