"When a dark mist falls upon the world and the tower collapses, a dark shroud will cover the hopes of men." - The Prophecies of Light

TWO YEARS LATER

A cool breeze pushed at Mingyu's back, shoving the tall young man forward and chilling him enough to make him pull his cloak around his shoulders tighter. His deeply tanned skin spoke of years in the Southern sun, told anyone who looked at him that he was a foreigner to the illustrious city of Redien. He had a pack strapped to his back and a sword at his right hip, and the way he moved with ease spoke volumes of how comfortable he was with his weapon.

He reached his destination, and glanced over his shoulder as he pushed open the door to the tavern. He hadn't been able to shake the feeling that he was being followed, though he had no evidence to support that thought. Just his years of experience as a mercenary, though as young as he was, he could admit that he wasn't as experienced as he liked to pretend. Perhaps he was simply being jumpy.

Glancing around the crowded tavern, he found a spot at a table near the center of the room, a place he usually avoided. He liked having his back to a wall - who knew when someone would try to put a knife in him. He shrugged off the unease, though, and made his way through the crowd, relying on his larger build and impressive height to maneuver through without too much confrontation. There was a man already seated at the table he'd aimed for, a big burly fellow who nodded in disinterest when Mingyu asked if the seat was free. He caught the man's gaze on his obviously comfortable sword as he settled, his eyes darting up to take in Mingyu's young face.

Mingyu offered him a smile, more a baring of teeth than anything else, and the man shrugged and turned back to his ale. Mingyu fought down a smile at his small victory, then raised a hand to motion for a barmaid. She made her way through the bustle of the crowd, her face painted with frustration. She wiped her hands on her dirty apron and glared down at Mingyu. "What'cha want?" she demanded, impatient.

"Ale," he told her, and off she went to fetch his drink, fighting her way back through the crowd. The busyness of the tavern reminded Mingyu of his own childhood, growing up on the docks of Felshira. His hometown was a port of interest for traders, the Northernmost port in the whole country, where they could buy coveted animal furs to trade in the South. He'd made a good enough living even back then, paid to carry messages and sometimes even packages for the merchants and traders, but most days he had made his living in a tavern such as this. The sailors tended to like to drink a lot when on shore, and the alcohol in their systems made them easy targets for a small thief such as Mingyu. He'd been a good thief, too, and had only been caught once, though that once was more than enough. The ship captain who had apprehended him was not a nice man, and his idea of justice for the young boy was to take him as a deck hand. Unpaid. 

Mingyu had spent four years as a slave for the man, until one night he'd escaped over the side of the ship as they were docked near the city of Telgar. It was a warm summer night and Mingyu had found a hiding place under the wooden docks. He had to stay in the water all that night and the next day as the crew searched for him, the captain livid that his slave had escaped, but finally they had left, unable to waste too much time on the search. Time for a trader was money, after all.

He'd signed on to one of the many mercenary units that were camped outside of the city, selling their contracts to the highest bidders to fight their wars for them. His own mature features and tall build had convinced the Lieutenant who signed him that he was older than his fifteen years. He served two years with the unit, earning money and learning the art of battle, and after his contract was up, he'd set off on his own. That was over a year ago, now, and so at not even nineteen years old he was a trained fighter and a free mercenary.

The girl finally returned with his ale, a scowl on her face as she snatched up the coin he gave as payment. He caught the burly man's eyes on him once again but ignored him, a slender, dark haired young man catching his attention instead. Mingyu watched as the boy easily and quickly cut the purse of one of the customers, a deft movement of fingers and a knife ring, and a smile came over his face as the action reminded him of his own early life. He lifted his mug towards his lips to cover his amusement and diverted his attention elsewhere, safe in the knowledge that he was alert enough to catch the thief if he tried anything.

The front door opened and brought a gust of cool wind, making the customers grumble at the newcomer. Mingyu cast a glance toward th