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[Thrax]

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Luck had never favored Esric, unless it was the bad kind. But this day, as he walked along the long dock of Trinsic toward a ship waiting to take him to Magincia, it changed for the better. He spotted his quarry, a young man dressed in bronze and deep red wearing an unusual porcelain mask, that fit the description of one of the scions of Isk, Magnate of Magincia, the possessor of the Armor that was bringing that city down to ruin. Esric, his head and features covered by the robes of a traveling monk or cleric, paused as he approached the young man. "Please forgive me," he spoke softly to him. "I am looking for someone like you. Are you one of the sons of Magnate Isk?"

The young man turned around. Although he could not show his emotions, his voice betrayed one of suspicion. "Who wants to know?"

"I am Esric Tal, a healer and cleric on his way to Magincia to aid those fighting in the invasion. I am of a benevolent, but secret, Order who worship nature," he explained. "I have also been sent to find some means to help the Magnate's family during this most difficult time."

Most of that, of course, was a lie. He was, in fact, a member of an Order, but it was an assassin guild at worst and a spying network at best. It was filled with trustworthy men and women who believed that the road to success was paved with blood and gold, and would sell out to the highest bidder, who, in this case, was some minion of a higher power reputedly based in Yew, Felucca. None of that mattered to Esric. The gold had been plenteous and the mission simple: spy on House Isk and be prepared to steal the Armor of Evil that he had been wearing. This Esric had done. He had been near the Magnate's home when he overheard a violent quarrel between father and son, as he was able to discern by their raised voices. He had followed the son but had lost track of him in Trinsic. But now, here he was and all was well.

"I am Athlon," the man replied without extending any of the normal gestures of greeting to him. He was in a pensive, brooding, mood. "Magnate Isk is my father, though he is not himself at the moment."

"I am pleased to make your acquaintance. I recognized you from previous visits to the city."

"I cannot go back... yet."

Esric paused. "I may be able to help you. Is there somewhere we could speak in private?"

Athlon nodded and walked away, Esric following a respectful distance behind him. They wound up in the Fisher's shop; the reek of fish, fresh and dried, filled their nostrils. "Ah, the smell is foul in here," Esric commented.

"Yes, but we can talk here," Athlon countered. "How can you help me?"

Esric paused, choosing his words carefully. "I know that your father is wearing something that is making him not himself and is bringing destruction upon your city. I have been commissioned to help relieve him of that, to take it to a place of safety where it can do no more harm."

Athlon listened, but turned away to look at a case of dried fish. "It is the Armor of Evil. It has made him lose his identity. He took the Armor off when the invasion started, just in case he lost it in a fight. He keeps it in a gold chest in the Basilica, our home. I left after a quarrel a few days ago; the one you must have overheard."

"Could a thief get in and get the Armor?"

"No, it is locked, trapped and warded. Only his most trusted friends and family can get to it. It's impossible to steal."

"Then you will have to go back and get it."

"I can't. I am not able to go back. If I do, there's no telling what my father would do to me."

Esric thought for a moment. "Then you must go disguised. I have an extra hooded robe and cleric's spell book. We will both appear to be two clerics doing their duty on the streets of Magincia and stroll by the Basilica. Then you can enter the place and get the Armor."

Athlon shook his head. "Not now. Since the fight, my father's guard will be up. We must wait a few days."

The lad was bright, Esric thought. "Yes, of course," he replied.

"If you have a ship, you could anchor it off the shore near my home and keep watch on the house. If you see him leaving, contact me and we will put our plan in motion."

The two agreed on that course of action. Esric assured Athlon that the Armor, once obtained, would be carefully hidden away and its whereabouts kept secret forever. Feeling like a very lucky man, he left to make a report to his employer.