"You've got to be kidding me." Surprisingly, Erin was the first one to react to the news of their new assignments. "We've been in the city for four hours after a month out in the wilderness, and you're telling me we have to leave already?"

"Well-" Jasper began.

"One day! Not one damned day!" Erin protested again.

"The scout has a point," S̆ams̆ādur cut in. "Surely this general of yours does not expect us to leave immediately."

"Oh, that's exactly what he wanted," Jasper sighed, "but I talked him into giving us one night in the city." He lifted a skeptical eye to the tavern the group had found rooms in. As most of the rooms had already been claimed by the commanders from the Djinn army, they'd been forced into one of the poorest parts of town, finding a tavern that looked like it was one bad storm away from being condemned. "It's not like we're been dragged out of a Hilton," he added to Erin.

"After a month on the road, hot water is the Hilton," Erin grouched. "I don't care what Ardûl wants - I want a break."

"He's my commanding officer - I can't exactly ignore him," Jasper pointed out. Even if I didn't exactly volunteer for the position.

"He's not mine," the scout replied stubbornly, and Jasper gritted his teeth. Actually, he is, and so am I, but he could also understand Erin's position. Ardûl only really cares about me and Tsia, he reasoned. "If you don't want to come, I guess when we can pick you up on our way back," he agreed.

"Great," Erin perked up. "Give me a few days in the city and I'll be good as new. I just can't go out again so soon." As he spoke, a maid from the tavern opened and called out his name. "Yer bath's ready!" With one last guilty glance, the scout sprinted outside before Jasper could change his mind.

"I guess the same offer stands for you," Jasper turned to S̆ams̆ādur. "Unlike Erin, you and your men really aren't under the Djinn's command, so Ardûl has no right to command you to come with us. If you want to stay in Abāya, it's up to you. We won't be here to protect you if the assassins return, though."

"I think I'll be fine," the prince grunted. "It will take months for them to gather reinforcements from the North."

"Didn't take you for a gambler," Jasper remarked.

"Eh. When my choice is between spending the next few weeks roughing it in this storm-blasted wilderness or basking in the hospitality of a whorehouse, it's not much of a choice at all," S̆ams̆ādur grinned roguishly. "And thanks to the buffs Kas̆dael gave me, I'll know they're coming before they even do."

He was surprised the dwarf begged off, but the durgu was a grown man; if he wanted to risk the possibility of dealing with the assassins on his own just for the sake of comfort, it was his own decision. And it's not like it's risk-free to go with us; we're headed to battle ourselves.

"And the rest of you?" Though Jasper included everyone in the question, there was only one person whose answer was in doubt: Nissilât. Unlike Tsia and Ihra, she wasn't officially part of their group. Indeed, she'd only agreed to join them until they reached the Emperor and this new mission would delay that meeting.

"I can speak to Commander Ardûl on your behalf," Jasper offered. "If you accompany him, you'll get to meet the Emperor sooner."

Nissilât hesitated for a moment, then shook her head. "Don't bother. My meeting with Lord Eligon can wait a little longer."

"Are you sure?" he blurted out in surprise.

"Positive. The last unexpected adventure you dragged me into got me a second class. Who knows?" she smirked. "Maybe this one will put me on the path to apotheosis."

If you only knew.

The night passed swiftly. S̆ams̆ādur, as promised, departed as soon as the maid had drawn his bath, headed for the whorehouse just down the road. He invited Jasper and Erin to come along, an offer Jasper turned down with a degree of bemusement.

Instead, he stayed at the tavern. Despite its seedy appearance, the food was fantastic - its flavor no doubt enhanced by the weeks stuck on the road without fresh meat or vegetables - and the ale was…well, drinkable would be the best way Jasper could describe it. Still, with a belly full of warm food and a flagon or two of ale, he had no trouble falling asleep.

Morning came all too quickly. Without the durgu and his men slowing them down, the group was up before the sun rose and, after scarfing down a quick breakfast, headed out the gates. Unfortunately, the pleasant weather of the previous day did not prevail. The thick storm clouds swirling overhead pitched the land in a perpetual dusk, and they had only made it an hour outside the city before the floodgates opened.

The road turned into a swamp as sheets of rain beat down on them, a cold, bitter rain whose chill was made worse by the steady wind blowing off the mountains. Fortunately, Jasper's recent changes hadn't removed his resistance to the cold and heat, but his friends weren't so fortunate. Within an hour, Ihra's and Nissilât's lips had turned blue, their lips chattering as the rain soaked into them. He chased away the cold for a time by infusing them with his essence, but it proved a losing battle.

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By midday, they were forced to stop at a roadside inn, where they warmed up by the fire for a few hours until the rains passed. They made it a few more miles before night fell and the rains returned, forcing them to scurry for shelter. The weather dogged their steps for days afterward, endless thunderstorms whose bitterly cold rains were not at all like the summer storms Jasper remembered growing up.

Fortunately, the Empire's builders had taken the weather patterns into account. Although their eventual destination was to the north, the road led to the east for several days before turning northward, and as the mountains faded behind them, the storms diminished. They made good time after that, doubling their distance in just two days.

They'd rode nearly thirty miles when they stopped for the second day. It had drizzled lightly for much of the day, not enough to turn the road into unmanageable much but just enough to ensure that every inch of the ground was damp and cold. That was a problem easy to fix for Jasper, though. Clouds of steam rose into the damp night air as he swept his flames over their intended campsite, lingering just long enough to wring the moisture out of it without setting it on fire.

A pair of rabbits had had the misfortune of wandering across the road in front of them, and Ihra's quick eye had shot them down, so dinner was better than usual. What they did not eat, they burnt, not wishing to attract any predators, and Nissilât and Ihra turned in for the night.

Jasper, though, stayed up a bit longer. Assuming the map was accurate and the weather continued to cooperate, he felt confident they would reach the fort the following day. With a sigh, he fished the files Ard̂ul had given him and spread them out in front of the fire.

The files were sadly lacking in information; while the Empire had a better bureaucratic machine than one might expect, it didn't exactly meet modern standards. He thumbed through the handful of messages and reports the fort had sent. They were mostly pretty standard:

- Merchants from Ēpes̆il reported they were attacked on the road by a group of twenty to thirty bandits. The bandits hid their faces with black leather masks so the merchants were unable to provide any descriptions. Despite taking heavy casualties, the guards successfully fought them off and the caravan reached us without loss.

- Patrol today was ambushed by a group of bandits wearing black leather masks. Three of the squad fell in the first few seconds, but the miscreants fled as soon as our men began to fight back.

- Elders from the village of S̆artab reported that a group of strange men in black masks attacked the village at night. No one was killed in the attack, but the village's granaries were burnt down and most of their flock was slain before the village militia was able to drive them off.

As Jasper read through the reports, he found himself agreeing with Ardûl's assessment of the threat. This was not the behavior of normal bandits. Why would they break off the attack on the caravan when the guards were taking heavier casualties than them? Why would they pillage the village but not take its loot? And why did they flee, over and over again, at the first sign of a real fight?

They're more concerned with causing chaos and damage than enriching themselves, which likely means the Zalancthians are involved. But why flee? He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he reread the reports. If only cameras existed here; I'd kill for some CCTV footage, or even some crime scene photos. Instead, the only sources he could rely on were the ever-unreliable eye-witness testimonies. Still, a theory gradually formed as he reread the reports: perhaps they were reluctant to fight because they were too small to sustain casualties. It was nothing but a hunch, but it was one he hoped was correct, as it would greatly simplify matters.

Despite Ardûl's faith in him, Jasper was uncomfortable about being sent to deal with the unknown group with just the four of them, especially against an enemy that was notoriously resistant to magic. Why the hell didn't he send us with at least a few soldiers?

He froze as a crack filled the air, whipping his head up in time to see a trail of sparks fly free of the fire. Just a knot in the wood, he thought dismissively, but as he returned his attention to the reports, trying to wring inspiration out of them, Jasper couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching him.

He lifted his head slightly, careful to maintain the appearance that he was still reading the letters as he tried to survey his surroundings. The only sounds that met his ears were the steady wail of the wind and the infrequent crackling of the slowly dying fire, but the feeling didn't dissipate.

Hiding his hand beneath the letter, Jasper's fingers twitched with a spell. I'm going to feel like an idiot when there's nothing there, he thought, but he cast Punishing Hand anyway. The mud at his feet stirred as a pale hand emerged from the ground, writhing to and fro like a drunken belly dancer. Its movements were almost mesmerizing, despite the spell having no real effect on him, but Jasper didn't have time to watch it as the sudden curse a few feet behind him told him his paranoia had been justified.

"Ihra! Tsia!" He barked out as he spun around, another spell forming at the edge of his fingers.

A dozen men surrounded them, frozen in position with bows raised as they stared with horror at the wiggling hand. Black masks covered their faces and long huntsman axes dangled at their hips. No longer in any doubt as to their identity, Jasper let loose. "Soul Sear."

The night sky lit up as a stream of silvery orbs burst from his hand. They flew wide in a scattershot formation, ripping through the closest bandits in a string of ear-splitting explosions. The strike should have been enough to all but end the fight, but as the smoke cleared Jasper saw nearly half of them were still standing. Their clothes had been burnt off and their masks ruined beyond repair, but the fire had barely scorched them. Great, it's like fighting a whole horde of high-level Djinn.

With a pop, the wriggling hand beside him disappeared back into the void, and the bandits were released from its grip. A moment of silence fell over the camp as the two groups stared at each other, and then the closest one took a step forward.

Jasper struck first. Scourge of Despair arced through the air, wrapping around the naked bandit, but despite his lack of armor, the spectral whip failed to draw even a drop of blood. Ihra's arrow was another matter, though; it punched through the man's chest with a sickening squelch, blood pooling too late to summon the hungry ghosts.

Cursing, Jasper started to cast the spell again, but he was too slow. With surprising alacrity, the group pivoted and darted off into the forest, leaving behind their wounded brethren. Bunch of cowards.

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