Futch paused for a moment and considered whether or not to write down the location of the supposed meeting place that he was going to check out that night. He doubted Humphrey would be thrilled at his going out on a solo escapade. Then he thought of the long hours spent waiting for his taciturn companion and wrote instead:

Consider this my version of ‘unfinished business’. I’ll see you when I get back.
- Futch

That finished, he left the letter on the side table and went over to his travel bag and the rest of his gear, trying to decide what to bring. He rummaged through his pack and decided upon some dried fruit and a water bottle. As he was about to close the bag he chanced upon a small black leather bag with an image clumsily stitched unto it. After a moments hesitation, he took that as well.

Finally he took his Sigmund spear from where it rested against the north wall of the room. He ran his eyes from the blade to the haft searching for anything amiss, then gave it a few experimental thrusts. Satisfied, he looked out the window at the clear night sky. There were still a few hours to go before the moon reached its zenith but Futch was tired of waiting in the small inn’s room. Checking the room once more, Futch blew out the lantern and left, locking the door behind him.

* * *

Futch stepped out of the inn into the brisk evening air of Northern Muse. He blinked for a few moments, then walked away from the light streaming from the open doorway to let his eyes adjust to the darkness. The old soldier had taught him a lot, mostly through example. Humphrey wasn’t one for lectures... or verbal communication in general fo that matter.

After a few minutes the inky shadows took on the more common silhouettes of trees and rocks and Futch began to make his way north east towards the Green Cave. Before he had gone up to his room the young Dragon Knight had spent half an hour or so ascertaining the location of the cave mentioned on the paper. It turns out that although much of this region was forest, there were a few rocky hills a little ways to the north towards the Highland border that held a series of caverns. One of these was called the Green Cavern and had gained a bit of local notoriety in the past as the retreat of a former baker who had styled himself a hermit. Eventually the ‘hermit’ had been unable to carry on the lifestyle of a recluse and returned to be the laughing stock of town, leaving the Green Cavern abandoned.

Abandoned until now perhaps, Futch thought to himself.

Soon enough, Futch caught sight of the hills. He remembered some of the townsfolk saying that the entrance to the Green Cave was facing North so he began to circle around the hills. He did not move very swiftly as the young man tried to avoid making any unnecessary noise. He had no idea what these ‘Dragon Knights’ were about so it was best not to take risks. To this effect he also decided to stay off the makeshift ‘path’ that circled the hills, although he kept it in sight.

Eventually he began to hear the sounds of people. The rustle of clothing and the snapping of branches in the otherwise silent evening made it easy for Futch to avoid them. He did occasionally catch glimpses of them... they all seemed to be wearing long hooded robes, which while shielding their identities did make forest travel a bit inconvenient. He heard more than one muffled curse as folds of clothing were snagged or ripped by overhanging branches. Whoever these people were, it seemed they were not yet used to such attire... or such secrecy.

Finally Futch reached the end of the tree line. A trickle of people was steadily flowing into one of the caves, the only one lit by faint torchlight. Amongst the robed figures Futch occasionally caught the glint of armor... guards evidently. If Futch was going to get into that meeting, he would need one of those robes... as well as a plan. Looking upwards at the moon, Futch nodded once. He had enough time to think this through.

Futch looked around for an easily climbable tree that was near the path that most would take. He found one in moments then he pointed his spear downward and jabbed its point into the ground right next to the tree. Then he proceeded to climb. The young man was not a phenomenal climber, but he had always loved heights and had been climbing trees since he was a baby. Finding a branch that was thick enough to support his weight and gave him a good view of the forest and the path below, he eased himself onto it. Hopefully one of the robed members of the group would pass beneath him and Futch could ‘borrow’ the robe.

A few groups passed beneath him but he ignored them. He did not want to risk taking on more than one of them. However, he overheard one of the conversations, and heard mention of a password. That could be trouble, he thought to himself, but decided to deal with it later. Just then a single robed figure came into view, moving slowly up the path. Futch tensed himself for action.

As the figure passed beneath him, Futch dropped swiftly from the branch, his elbow targeted at the others head. The Dragon Knight connected and with a muffled groan, the robed figure slid to the floor. Futch grinned in the darkness. Maybe if he ever got back to Toran he’d have Kasumi give him lessons... this sneaky stuff was fun!

Now what to do with this unfortunate? He couldn’t leave him out in the open... although these woods were usually free of wild beasts some of the other robed ones might come across him. Sighing to himself, Futch dragged the other man a distance from the path, then propped his head up against a tree. After checking that his victim would have no more than a bump on the head to worry about, Futch took the robe and put it on. He was surprised by the feel of it... it felt like expensive fabric to Futch. As an afterthought he removed his headband as well... it was a little too distinctively of the real Dragon Knights.

Satisfied, Futch headed back and retrieved his spear. As he yanked it out of the ground he heard a rustle of movement behind him and on instinct whirled around with the spear pointed forward. Two other robed people yelped in surprise and jumped back.

A moment passed as Futch and the two figures looked at each other in surprise. Then the one to the right came forward and spoke in an indignant voice:

"What is the meaning of this? You know that weapons are not allowed at Conclaves... I shall have you reported to his Lordship!"

Beneath the hood, Futch gulped. He was in a fix now... how was he going to get out of this? He doubted if he could take them both out before one of then shouted loud enough for the guards to hear. The man who had stepped forward seemed about to do just that when Futch had a sudden inspiration.

"Password!" Futch hissed menacingly, thrusting his spear forward threateningly. The robed person who had not spoken yelped again and huddled behind the first.

"What?" The first man spoke again, "We are only to be asked for the password at the entrance to the Dragons Den!"

Dragons Den... Futch thought to himself. How dare they... But then he simply shrugged and said:

"I know that. But things change, and I have my orders."

"I demand to know why we were not informed!"

The first man was a dead end so Futch looked at the other one instead. "Here now, do you want to be punished too for your pals mulishness or will you give me the right password?"

The second man looked at Futch’s spear then seemed to shiver. "The... the password is Levintz good sir. May we pass now?"

"Marash! You imbecile!"

"But he was going to kill us brother!"

Sighing inwardly with relief Futch stepped aside and gave Marash a mock bow. "Pass noble one. Be assured that his Lordship will hear of YOUR cooperation."

The two passed with Marash mumbling thanks and the other brother staring back at Futch the whole time. Lucky this