Silas was finalising the plans with his children, and organising parties to go with those leaving Skodur. King Leopold was talking quietly with his son, most like organising their own plans.

He wasn't even sure what his job was. All he had been told was to investigate the missing Key, but there were no leads. No one had seen who had taken it, so how could he find someone when he didn't know what they looked like?

It would be much easier if he could go to Ammos and investigate there. He could easily gather information by getting a look at the scene of the attack. He might be able to find something that would lead to the thief. But no, the Guild wanted to do it the way, which would mean weeks before anyone could get any information from any of the other cities.

Some days he hated working for the Guild, for a reason he really didn't understand. Yes, he did like helping the people of the realm, it was his duty as a healer. But he missed doing his freelance work, it had been better then.

That was what caught the Guild's attention in the first place, his freelance work. He would go around, fighting off bad guys, arresting thieves, healing the sick and wounded. He had been in a small town off to the east of Dreeva, where he had heard word of a gruesome murder. He had gone in to investigate and was hired by the victims mother. It had turned out that it had been an angry customer of their shop, and was also targeting the mother who had hired him. He'd gotten there too late. The woman had been stabbed, but the attacker had been arrested by the member of the Guild who had also been passing through the small town.

Nyal had rushed to heal the woman, which had gained the attention on the Guild member. It wasn't long after that that Silas found him and convinced him to join them. Nyal had thought he'd get more of a chance to help the people of Veridun.

He hadn't known before then that healing was a rare power. Silas had explained it all to him during that first meeting. They took him in for training and to determine the strength of his magic. Nyal remembered stunning them with this power. They hired him instantly, sending him off to towns around Skodur to help out. That's all he had down for three years.

He hadn't thought that he would be a part of something like this. And he knew it was only because of his strength, not importance. That was probably why he had been told to stay, it would be easier for Silas to keep an eye on him that way. The man didn't trust anyone aside from his family. That's probably why Nyal was never sent out any further than Skodur.

People began to leave the room. King Leopold and his son were the first to go, bidding everyone goodnight politely and they quietly shuffled out, Herbert baring he weight of his father against his shoulder. The boy would soon be king, now that Prince William had passed. They would have to make an address about it soon. Nyal could only imagine the uproar that would bring. How would they explain it without giving away the fact that the Key had been stolen?

Jeremiah left after that, telling Silas that he would leave in the morning, and that he would find a replacement for the weeks he would be gone. Silas's children were the next to go, the youngest muttering about how tired he was. The line rubbed Nyal's fur the wrong way. The kid was barely an adult, maybe ten years younger than Nyal, and yet he was being sent off to foreign lands to try and prevent the end of the realm. That was too much pressure for such a young man.

It was almost like Silas didn't care.

Nyal stood from his seat, bowing his head at Silas politely. He needed to sleep, he'd had a long day. He knew he needed to make a start on the Key and the Gate, but his mind was so tired that he didn't even know where to start.

"Belthorne," Silas said in a strong voice, "I'm not done with you yet. Sit." Nyal had been at the door, his hand grazing the ornate handle. He spun with a sigh, moving to sit back down in his seat.

"I would have thought you'd want me to get started right away, sir," Nyal said, raising an eyebrow at his boss.

"Do you even know what you're doing?" Silas asked, raising his own eyebrow back.

"Investigating the missing Key," Nyal said snarkily, a small smirk on his face. He usually wouldn't talk back to the other man, but he was just so tired.

Silas sighed, running a hand through his hair and glaring at the younger man. "Take this seriously, would you, Belthorne! This is a matter of grave importance and I will not have you making a joke out of it!" Silas slammed his fist onto the table, making Nyal jump, "You will go around Skodur, starting here, and see if you can find anyone who could possibly be involved with the theft. Do you understand what happens if you don't?"

"Yes, sir," Nyal mumbled, resigned. This is what always happened when he was given a mission. Silas would yell it at him like he was an idiot.

"Now, something else I'm getting everyone to do, is find the location of the Gate," Silas started, "If we can find the Gate, we can protect it. I'm also trying to get in touch with the Gate Keeper, but I'm getting nothing. They would know where the Gate is, but I think they're trying to get the Key back."

That wasn't a good sign. The Gate Keeper was always meant to be in contact, so that they could know the whereabouts of the Key. The Keeper not being in contact meant that something was seriously wrong, more so than it was already.

"Think you can do that?" Silas asked, sneering.

"Yes, sir," Nyal grumbled, holding back his glare.

"Good," Silas replied, "Now, go home. It's late. You can start tomorrow." Nyal stood then, barely nodding a goodbye before he made it to the door. He had it halfway open when Silas called out to him again. "And Belthorne? Never come into a meeting looking like that again, understand? I want my coat returned to me in the morning."

Nyal never replied, just left the room. He would clean himself and Silas's coat when he got home. If he had known what kind of meeting he would be stepping into, he would have made and effort to not look like a peasent, but it was too late for that now. No one seemed to mind too much, except Prince Herbert, but it didn't phase Nyal much.

On his way out of the building, he passed by Maris, and waved goodbye to her. She gave him a grin and a thumbs up, which he returned with a small smile. He might talk to her about it in the morning if he could. How would have explain it without giving anything away?

He didn't live far from the palace, only a few streets away. He lived in a share house with other warlocks, one that had been designed for and owned by the Guild for years. It wasn't the best place, but it was his until he decided to leave the Guild.

It was dark as Nyal walked, the only light coming from the lamp posts that lined the street, and the stars shining above him. Not many people were out at night, it was usually just men coming and going from the inns that were dotted about the city.

Nyal's mind raged with thoughts of the day he had had. He still didn't understand what exactly had happened in the woods that afternoon, nor how he was supposed to find anything about the Key or the Gate. He didn't want to think about what would happen in the theif found the Gate before they did.

He couldn't help but wonder if the two people he had run into earlier were tied to all this. They something he'd never seen before, and so soon after the theft of the key. The woman had mentioned that they came from Ammos. There was a high chance that they had something to do with it. But they would be far from Skodur by now, with the speed they were moving at. They ran from Ammos to Dreeva in only a day.

He should have mentioned it during the meeting, but in all the chaos he had forgotten all about it. He'd have to tell Silas when he returned his coat in the morning. He needed to investigate the pair, but he didn't want to run into them again. One fight against the fire breather and he'd nearly died.

He hadn't realised how far he's walked until he made it to his share house. His housemates were most likely already home, but they wouldn't bother him. They each had their own separate rooms, with a bed, desk, and bathroom, but had a shared kitchen and sitting room.

It was a small house, compared to a lot of the others the Guild owned. Like most, it was double storied and made out of the same grey stone as everything else in Dreeva. It had a dark brown wooden roof, and windows that lined the walls, yellow candle light shining out onto the street.

He walked in through the battered wooden door, met with the smell of something cooking and the sound of people talking. Straight in the door was the sitting room, filled with seats and bookshelves. Two people sat there, books in hand, but not reading them. Instead they were talking, about what, Nyal didn't know.

Past the sitting room was the kitchen, where one of the men he lived with was cooking. He was the only one who was any decent at it. Nyal had tried a few times, and while what he made was edible, it never tasted all that nice. .

He ignored the looks his housemates gave him, instead heading for the stairs that lead to the bedrooms. He was getting sick of being asked about his clothes, he didn't even know how to answer them.

He turned the corner and went to head for his room, only to run into Azel, one of the other people he lived with. Azel was a burly warlock with an affinity to fire, and he hated Nyal with a passion. Nyal never did figure out why, he just went with it by this point. After all, he'd been living with the man for years.

"Well, look at you!" Azel exclaimed, looking Nyal up and down. He was shorter than Nyal, due to him being Skodurian, but much stockier. He had blonde hair that always sat neatly on his head, and bright green eyes. A gigantic mol sat next to his left eye and no matter how long Nyal had lived with him, he couldn't stop himself from staring at it.

"Not in the mood, Azel," Nyal replied, trying to step around him. Azel stuck his arm out, blocking Nyal's path. "Move," Nyal growled, standing up straight and looking down at Azel, "I fought you before, and won, I can do it again. Don't test me."

This happened almost everyday. He would come home, and Azel would automatically try to pick a fight with him. Today, unlike most days, Azel seemed to catch on to what Nyal was saying, and backed away, letting the taller man pass. Nyal let out a quiet sigh, pushing past the short man and making his way towards his room.

He heard Azel make his way down the creaky stairs as he close his bedroom door, and the sound of one of the others calling him down for dinner. He wasn't hungry. All he wanted was a bath.

He quickly drew himself a bah and sat in the warm water, washing the mud off of his body. It dirtied the liquid, turning it a dull brown. He wasn't sure how long he had been sitting there, thinking, but he knew it was a long time. The smells of dinner had long since drifted away.

He thought back to the meeting, and what Silas had told him right before he left, about the Gate Keeper. His first thought was that the Keeper was dead, and that's why no one could get a hold of them, but he knew that was impossible. The Keeper was a demigod, supposedly, and nothing could kill a demigod. Well, not that the Guild knew of anyway.

In all honesty, he was sure that man from earlier, who could breathe fire, could kill a demigod. He'd never seen anyone as strong as that.

For centuries, the Gate Keeper protected the Gate and the Key, watching over the movements of both. Since the Ancient Ones had been locked away behind the Gate, the Keeper had been there to make sure they never escaped, or so the story goes, anyway.

According to what had been written about it, the Ancient Ones were old creatures, from the beginning of time. The monsters, the dragons and vampires and wendigos held the land long before anything else existed. The Gods watched over them for centuries, growing more and more worried about their destructive behaviour. In response they created the warlocks, beings designed to fight back against them.

The Ancient Ones grew angry at the creation of the warlocks. War broke out, and many warlocks were slaughtered as a result. According to what had been written, warlocks with the ability to heal were more common then, but were wiped out by the Ancient Ones.

The Gods then sent down the Gate Keeper, a demigod designed to help the warlock win. Along with the warlocks, the Gate Keeper came up with a plan to get rid of the Ancient Ones once and for all. It was a ritual, used to lock away the Ancient Ones. That ritual resulted in both the Gate and the Key

Once the realm was safe, the Gods began to create other races, like werewolves and fae. After that, the kingdoms began to crop up, and a plan was formed for how to keep the Key safe. Every so often, it would be moved from city to city, so that it would not be in the same place for very long. It was a protective measure that was doubted for many years, because no one could think of a reason for why anyone would take the Key. The Gate Keeper stayed by themselves, moving the Gate around to different locations, and monitoring the movement of the Key.

Now though, it seemed like they had failed in the job they had been given by the Gods. The Key was the only thing that could open the Gate, and doing so would unleash the Ancient Ones, and bring ruin the Veridun.