Dusk was falling on the Weyland. Few dared brave the forest this late, old superstitions about angry spirits and long dead witches ingrained in the minds of every farm boy, guard, and merchant.

But there were some who hadn’t heard those stories. Most made their home in the Red Sail. It was a dinky little tavern, nestled in the very edge of the Weyland, and just outside Imperial control. Most there were criminals and scoundrels, and the Winged who’d landed just outside was no different. She’d gone by many names in her time, but most knew her as Kiz, the Winged guide. 

She helped people through the Weyland, most days. It wasn’t a pretty job, and she’d spent her fair share of time running from whatever nasties prowled the woods, but it was work, and most days, it paid well.

She was to meet her newest client there, a mage who’d thought sending her a letter mid flight was a good idea. She’d nearly crashed into the trees below her. That would cost him extra.

Kiz swaggered into the Red Sail, tucking her wings in just enough as to not knock anything over. She was well known, enough to not have to deal with a barkeep forcing her to buy a drink, or one of the patrons challenging her for the fun of it. 

She found her client quickly. The mage was doing his best to not stand out, and had made himself so much more obvious in the process. With his cloak pulled tight, and overly large pack on his back, there was no chance any of the Red Sail’s patrons wouldn’t remember him. And from the way he wrung his hands and glanced about, that wasn’t a good thing.

They were an odd pair, though they didn’t draw many eyes. The Red Sail was used to people like them, meeting under the cover of night to cut deals.

Kiz couldn’t see much under the hood. She thought he was younger, under twenty, if his voice was anything to go by. She’d seen a hint of green eyes when he’d first looked up at her, which meant he had to be an elf. An elven mage at that. Not rare, but unpredictable. Often dangerous. She didn’t quite know how to feel about that.

The mage was nervous. Kiz liked that. The more afraid he was, the more he was willing to pay. The journey through the Weyland Woods wasn’t long, but every now and then she found some poor soul she could fleece a small fortune from.

And she knew how to do that. She flared her wings out, showing off the black flight feathers, and the dyed purple ones underneath. “I heard you were looking for… my services?” She asked with a wink. 

“I- uh,” the mage sputtered for a second, flushing, “I need a guide. To get through the Weyland.”

Kiz smirked. “You’ve come to the best,” she said, tilting her head in a kind of mock bow, “Liana Harkiz, at your service.”

“Um, yeah. How- how much do you want?” The mages asked, “for passage?”

Kiz tilted her head, eyeing the mage, “now, hold up,” she said, “I gave you my name. How about I get yours. And that hood off. I don’t work with people who don’t show their faces.”

The mage froze. “I can’t.” He said, “It’s- I just can’t. I have the money to pay for passage, just, please, I need to get across.”

“Mm,” Kiz tilted her head, pretending to consider him, “I guess I could make an exception.” She said, “For a price, of course.”

“I can give you twenty crowns.” The mage said, “and double that on the other side.”

Kiz laughed. “Sixty total? That’s barely my rate with the usual folk, and you are far from that.” She said. “You’re going to have to do better than that. Or, I could go find an Imperial Authority. From the looks of you, I’d probably get a fair price, telling them were to find you.”

The mage froze. “You-“ he paused, “you would.” 

“I would.” Kiz echoed, “I might not like them, but the Empire has coffers full of gold. And from the looks of you…”

“I have money.” The mage said, seeming to steel himself, “but I also have a duty. If- I can’t let you go to the empire.”

Kiz leaned back for a second, letting one of her hands drop down to the knife at her belt. “Oh? How much are you willing to pay then? Because I’d much rather take my chances with the empire than take sixty crowns for a run.”

The mage paused for a second, before pulling his hood back. He was indeed elven, pointed ears and an angular face, if a bit softer than most of his kind. His eyes weren’t quite the deep green she was used to seeing in elves, more of a muddy shade.

Now that she could really see him, Kiz settled back. He wasn’t some war mage, or veteran, or anything truly threatening. No, at best he was some Royal institute student on the run, or some other half wit mage. And whatever this ‘duty’ was… well, there wasn’t anything saying Kiz couldn’t escort him across and steal something from him.

“I can give you five hundred gold on arrival.” The mage said. “And… twenty now. It’s all I have.”

Kiz narrowed her eyes. Five hundred was a lot. Far more than she’d make in a month, more than she’d make in four or five months. But the mystery behind why he wanted a job, and the fact that he still hadn’t given her a name? That rubbed Kiz the wrong way.

 “And where is this five hundred going to be coming from?” She asked, “because you, clearly, don’t have anything close to that.”

The elf glanced between the tavern’s nearest patrons, and elf too far into his drink to notice, and a human who was very distracted by her winged waiter. 

“I have a job to complete. Once I get to Varsky, I can give you the money.” He whispered. “And that’s just over the border. I just- need some help. Getting there.”

“You’re in deep.” Kiz said after a beat. “What’d you do? Sign onto some military intelligence raid?”

The mage only grimaced. “Oh, gods,” Kiz said, realizing what that meant. “You- you can’t be serious. Why would-“

“I can give you a thousand.” The mage cut her off. “One thousand to get me across. That’s more than you could hope to make in half a year. Just- no questions, no detours. Get me across.”

“A thousand?” Kiz asked, “you- listen, if you’re trying to pull one over on me, I will leave you in that forest. And I will take everything you have.”

“One thousand crowns, if we leave now.” The mage said, “and I mean right now. I don’t care how dark it is.”

“I- fine.” A thousand crowns was a lot of money. She might be able to move out of the Weyland with that, stop wasting her time escorting people across. Just one run could change everything for her.

One run, Kiz realized, that could kill her. She would have to lead the mage through the Weyland. While it wasn’t dangerous for her regulars, with someone as inexperienced as he... The path through the Weyland was winding and dangerous, and if the mage’s nervousness was well founded, there would be more than just the beasts of the Weyland haunting them.

The mage followed her out of the tavern, pulling his hood back up as they left. Kiz glanced eastward, towards the empire. There was a rider there, which was strange. Most didn’t come in this late, and few non imperials used the main road to approach the Red Sail. 

The rider wasn’t clad in the blues of the empire though, and even from so far off, Kiz could tell his horse wasn’t one of the empire’s destriers. 

“I- my name is Reven.” The mage said after a pause, returning Kiz’s attention to her task. “I figure, since you know, we’re-“

“I get it.” Kiz cut him off. “You want to play nice with your guide, whatever. Just make sure you have that thousand for me.” She turned to him, voice hardening, “these are vulture’s wings. And you know what vultures do to weak little things like you?”

The mage- Reven gulped “Uh, well-“

“They tear them apart.”

“R-right.” Reven said, “I, uh, I won’t. Lie to you or try to keep the money. I’m not,” he trailed off, “I’m not like that. I just want to get home.”

As he was talking, the rider led his horse to the stables. He was a big man, with a menacing, double bladed axe strapped to the horse’s saddle. He shouldn’t have stuck out really. There were plenty of mercenaries who frequented the Red Sail, but Kiz could quite shake the feeling that she’d seen him before.

“Home, right. Anyone going to be following us there?” Kiz asked, “Anyone at all?”

“Er- well, from what I gathered, the Royal Institute wasn’t very pleased with me when I left.” Reven said. “And they had a mercenary on their payroll. Havar, I think. Nice guy, really. I met him once.”

“Had an axe?” Kiz asked, watching the stables. “Could probably break you in half?”

“Yeah,” Reven said, with a half-smile. “You should have seen him when he got asked to break a sword. Just put his gloves on and snapped the thing. Scariest guy I’ve ever met.”

“Wonderful. Would you like to say that to his face?” Kiz asked.

“Uh, not really? You did- oh, that’s his horse, I think.” Kiz could hear Reven gulp. “Right, we should- run? Right? Running sounds like a good idea.”

“No.” Kiz said, “we walk. Turn around and walk. Don’t give him a reason to be curious.”

“Right, yeah.” Reven turned, and Kiz followed, senses on high alert. She knew Havar, if only in passing. A good a mercenary as one could find, and one who knew his way through the Weyland. 

But Kiz would be damned if she let some outsider catch up to her in the Weyland, her home for so many years.

“Come on.” Kiz said, taking the lead. “I know a place we can rest up in. Might even be able to lose your friend.”

With that, the two were swallowed by the woods.

Not, though, before they’d been seen. The Axe of the Emperor, some called him. He hated the name, though only because it was true. The empire had him by his throat. When they sent him out, it wasn’t only his life on the line.

This job, though, should have come with no risk. A desperate mage, breaking the rules, stealing something from the Royal Institute. Havar respected him, but he was the mark. And Havar thought he recognized the hooded figure. 

He sighed. Havar didn’t like this job, didn’t like any job the empire gave him really. But if it was a choice between his sister and anyone else… Well, the choice was clear. 

The mage had to die.