Today I’m continuing with Radiq, my swords and sorcery menage story. If you missed last week’s clip, you can read it here.
The noon sun beat upon Radiq’s shoulders, flattening his resolve like a slug of iron upon an anvil. As much as he wanted to, there was little the warrior turned ambassador could do to delay the inevitable approach to the Guild House—the streets of Thal Qedoq were nearly empty, the city’s inhabitants having escaped indoors away from the broiling heat.
His mission was simple: He need only meet with the Red Guild Master and secure his assistance—for surely the greatest mage in the eastern world would readily know the location of a crown lost for three millennia? Radiq snorted at the ludicrousness of that thought. His real concern should be avoiding an encounter with Marron—his brother would unquestionably want to pick up the fight where Radiq had dropped it ten years ago—and Radiq had no time to spare on Marron’s ambition and self-justification.
“Oh, my prince,” he thought, “why did you have to contract marriage with a sorceress—and then break the engagement?”
Laying further consideration of his brother’s errors aside as unproductive, Radiq turned his horse onto Qed Harraq, the great thoroughfare that ran straight as a lance to the gates of the Guild House.
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‘Til next time!