Galen stood at the edge of a platform in Heartwood. The elvish city, located in the trees above Yew, offered a spectacular view of what he had come in his head refer to as �Joylah's city� rather than by its actual name. From this high up, the city, always beautiful, was stunning, like a living, breathing tapestry. The trees and the grass were as green as trees and grass can be imagined to be. And it was a lush, warm green, as though someone had imagined and brought into existence what that color was meant to be. The buildings were a deep, warm brown, beautifully dotting the green landscape

Since their relationship had began in earnest, when Galen had some time ago admitted that the feelings he had for Joylah went far beyond passion and strong friendship, he had some to know her well, and had come to realize how much of her was tied in with Yew, this spread-out city in the trees that had gone through so much in its existence. Like Joylah herself, the city had been battered and tossed about. And had, recently, been renewed and restored.

Galen smiled thinking of Joylah, and her city, and the look on her face the other night when he had come home from Felucca, to find her above the sheets. It was a testimony to the many gifts she offered the battered warrior's heart, mind, and body that he could smile at all.

Joylah had seemingly been avoiding Galen since a strange night at the Silver Arrow just a few nights ago where discussion had turned to the oddly fond memories people seemed to always have of murderers and villains. It despaired Galen to know that his quarries would be remembered, and fondly, long after he was forgotten. Mostly, though, he knew he would have to find Joylah, and soon. Even this small time not seeing her was too much for him. He needed her. She had become a part of him, a part of his heart.

Galen was in Heartwood on a strange sort of business. He had just returned to there from Tokuno, bringing with him 20 horns of the gaman, the strange cow-like creatures that wandered the Tokuno plains. An elf of Heartwood had sworn to him that, with 20 such horns, the minotaur of the Labyrinth could be made to consider Galen one of their own and thus wouldn't attack him. Galen considered this to be foolishness, but wanted to test it anyway. He would be leading an expedition to the Labyrinth on behalf of the Vesper Museum soon, and wished to gather as much information as possible before leading strangers into that place. This may not be anywhere near as difficult a task as was his previous museum expedition, to spawn the �Champion� of the Bedlam Crypt, but he should have as much knowledge as possible before leading people into a place that was still largely unknown.

Whenever Galen visited the Tokuno Islands, he was struck by the utter ridiculousness of the Shadow Empire's claim upon it. Tokuno was nothing if not a wild, essentially un-claimable frontier, like Ilshenar. In the one settlement of any note, Zento, there appeared to have been a government in place prior to the Shadow Empire making its claim, right down to an �Imperial Trade Minister� who had willingly offered payment for the return of lost treasures. Yet, the High Council had accepted the Empire's claim on the Islands seemingly without much in the way of thought and question. The contrast between this and how they had reacted to the Malas Confederation, a government with historical roots in Malas, was stunning.

While he was in Tokuno hunting gamans, Galen had been under a near constant assault by roaming ninja. They always seemed surprised when Galen dispatched them with relative ease, which amused Galen greatly. Their faith in what to them was the obvious superiority of Tokuno ways was nearly unshakable until it became obvious that Galen was going to kill them. Then, a strange look came over them, a kind of angry realization. A �gaijin� was going to kill them. And there was nothing they could do about it. Galen wallowed in their fear and loathing of him, soaking in their dying cries even as the Breath of the Dead drank in their life essences, using them to heal his own wounds.

There were brigands and monsters that roamed Britannia, to be sure, but not very many. Not like this. Even in the past, when monsters had been more of a problem, residents of the many settlements had helped to control them, with the assistance of the government. Or vice versa depending on ones point of view. Most governments felt the need, for obvious reasons, to have as much of a monopoly as possible in the use of force within their borders. If the Shadow Empire had made any attempt to do this within the Tokuno Islands, they had been remarkably subtle about it.

And thinking about this, of course, made Galen think of Phoebe.

It was very likely that Galen's attempt to convince Katherine, Empress of the Shadow Empire, to release the girl had failed, and that Phoebe was being tortured at this very moment. Galen had been a Guardsman for many years, and he knew the routine.

There were really only two realistic possibilities. One, that they would kill Phoebe after they had their way with her. Two, that they would instead �release� her as a show of their �honor� and �good faith.� People would be so overjoyed that she was alive, so overwhelmed by the power of the enemy, that they would hardly notice the condition she was being released in. The villains would be remembered, and fondly, as honorable folks.

Phoebe, however, would never be the same. She would be either crippled, or mad, or both, from what had happened to her. At best, she would resume her position and would be unable to function as she once had.

Aye, Galen knew this routine well. Singlarad was never the same after Raven was �released� by Relious Shade, basically giving up the chase and leaving it to Galen to finally catch the bastard. It was a common tactic, and it always worked. Someone who's been through that never comes back all the way. If they come back at all.

And, if the enemy does it with enough style, they are remembered fondly.

�In refusing to fight the enemy on its own terms,� Galen thought to himself, �we lose.� But, he knew better than anyone the consequences of doing what had to be done, consequences wrought by people who could neither understand nor care.

Galen had failed Phoebe. His lessons, his training hadn't been enough to protect her. He had failed her, and there was nothing he could do. Galen was incapable of fathering children. Though he had tried to not admit it to himself, partly because he feared this day would come, Phoebe had become the closest thing. And now, he was, in one manner or another, going to lose her, and there was nothing he could do.

He had been smoking nightshade, and drinking, again of late. Joylah had said nothing about this, she seemed to simply accept him as he was, but he could see the concern in her face when she didn't know he was looking. At least that new cough had subsided. �Perhaps,� Galen thought to himself with a chuckle, �the nightshade smoke keeps it at bay.�

He played with the ring that hung around his neck, Joylah's ring. �Ten'oio ar'tar, melamin.� He had, without realizing it, spoken aloud, and audibly. Heartwood was surprisingly quiet today, and his voice had seemingly carried. The elves in the vicinity glanced at him for a moment. He was reminded that he would soon have to visit with an elf healer, situated in this city, on a matter related to Meravyel. But not today.

He walked back to the teleporter, holding Joylah's ring tight in his hand. He emerged into Joylah's city, lush and green, smelling of a new and recent rainfall. Inside Galen's head, Joylah's dimpled smile, the sway of her hips, and her musical voice competed for his attentions.

�Ten'oio ar'tar, melamin.�