East Hetar was a land of many sectors and of many royal families. Each family trying to obtain the most power over Hetar. Many times the royal families would marry among sectors, hoping for more land and power.

The most powerful ruling family was the Fairies of the Tyandima-Mozalia clan. To marry into this family was a coveted prize meant only for the best and bravest of the Elven royal families.

Even more coveted were the legendary artifacts which had once belonged to the magi, Wovar. These artifacts were said to hold so much power and magic that to possess them would enable the owner to rule over the full realm of Hetar and the system beyond. Any wish made with these artifacts was guaranteed to be granted. The only problem was that they were under the constant guard of the sorceress, Myrianda.

Evimar Ezaria had a reputation for being the best thief in East Hetar. He never looked the same for any two jobs, and many did not know what race he truly was.

When Prince Nomerii sent word that he was seeking the Wovarian artifacts to present to the Tyandima-Mozalia family, he also needed the best thief to steal the artifacts from the sorceress.

Evimar was skeptical about the whole venture. He wondered if Wovar had ever existed. Let alone such marvelous artifacts. He believed them to be old children’s stories and nothing more. If they ever had existed they had probably disappeared along with the old magi. Still 40,000 gold pieces were more than worth the adventure.

For this performance he needed his best disguise ever. He wore leather padding underneath oversized clothing to add bulk to his already muscular form. Boots on his feet were converted to lengthen his four stone stature to five stones. He lengthened his hair and added facial hair to his smooth cheeks. To the rest of Hetar, Evimar Ezaria was a small wolf.

Being proficient in the art of alchemy he thought it would take only a few sunrises to mingle among Myrianda’s kitchen staff, find out where she kept the artifacts, slip a special mixture into the sorceress’s food so she fell asleep, then get the artifacts and be on his way.

One Silveria Moon rotation later he was still a member of the kitchen staff. He knew the artifacts were kept in Myrianda’s waiting room, but the living quarters were heavily guarded by a large group of Ogres known as the Crimson Blade. The only way to get near the living quarters was to be part of the staff that waited on her. Every day Evimar made a mad dash to grab the trays before any of the other staff had a chance, then he would wait throughout the meal to retrieve the trays and dishes. Although he slipped different knockout potions into the food when no one else was looking, these did not seem to effect Myrianda. In fact she commented every day on how her cooks had never prepared such wonderful and exotic dishes before.

The other cooks and kitchen staff was suspicious of Evimar from the beginning just because he was a Wolf. Most Wolves did not travel to East Hetar since it was considered too backward and primitive for the Wolves’ technological minds. Also, no decent Wolf would take a job as a menial cook. He must have been an outcast of his own kind, and that could only lead to some sort of trouble.

So far the young Wolf had not caused any real problems, although he was a clutz. Every day he would have some kind of accident in the kitchen. The only other unusual thing to happen while he had worked among the kitchen staff seemed to have nothing to do with him, but with some faulty ingredient. One overly enthusiastic apprentice cook had taken a sample of his own handiwork. He was found under the cutting table – spoon still in hand – unconscious. Once the Elf was revived, the dish was thrown away and a new one was made under close supervision.

Evimar was giving himself one last chance before giving up the job. He was bored and tired of the looks the kitchen staff kept giving him. Ever since one of the cooks had been found unconscious after a sampling of the main meal, the cooks had all been closely supervised. Now Evimar had to think up something new. Since he knew Myrianda had begun to trust him he decided to mix his most potent Sleepy Timer elixer. This formula was known for knocking out a giant within seconds.

“From the kitchen staff with warmest regards.” Myrianda smiled and motioned for him to sit. “You have been here so much, I feel I should know you better.” She took a sip of the elixer. “Mmmm. Sweet. Just like strawberries.”

“Berries made of straw?”

“Strawberries.” Another sip. ”They’re little red berries which…” The Wolf still looked confused. “I guess around here there are none, but where I come from….” A sad, sweet smile came to her lips.

Sixty ticketys and two sips. She should be asleep already. Her speech was beginning to slur as though she were tired, but otherwise she seemed even more awake and very talkative.

She began to talk about strawberries and the land she came from. It was no place he had ever traveled to, yet it sounded wonderful. She talked about the courtship and marriage she had with a magi. Finally she got to a topic which peaked Evimar’s interest. “I thought all he had left me were trinkets.” She was standing at her wardrobe and showed Evimar, a sword and a dagger. Not only perfectly forged with beauty unlike any he had ever laid his eyes on before, but each seemed to have a soft, beckoning glow to it. “He told me to always keep them close.”

She then told Evimar of a gift even more precious.

One morning, she awoke to a haunting melody. Opening her eyes she saw a pink cloud floating above her. Seeing a form that looked like a doll, she reached for it. The cloud floated into her arms and evaporated. In her arms Myrianda held a beautiful baby girl. This infant – Palesyna—was her life. “The three treasures I have mean more than riches, power, or life. My sword, my dagger, and my daughter,” she murmured. A long silence followed this last statement. It was many ticks before Evimar realized that Myrianda was asleep.

With a heavy heart Evimar looked around the waiting room. He picked up the dagger and prepared to place it back in its cupboard. He opened the cupboard and looked at the sword. He looked at Myrianda, remembering her story. He felt tears burning in his eyes as he reminded the look on her face as she spoke that last sentence. He chastised himself for going soft, tucked the dagger into his coat, took the sword and its scabbard and indiscreetly as possible began to leave Myrianda’s castle.

Evimar had just passed the gates when he heard a low humming. The humming became a sweet, yet haunting melody. He paused and turned. The music surrounded him. He looked at the guards to see if they heard it. If they did, they did not acknowledge it. Looking up toward Myrianda’s window he saw a movement upon the balcony. He thought he caught a fleeting glimpse of Myrianda staring through the crowd of guards and grounds men right at him. Evimar quickened his pace.

There was a sudden buzz among the Ogres as the music quickened and became more intense. The guards seemed to be closing in on him. With the scabbard banging against his legs, Evimar ran as fast as he could. As the townsfolk began to crowd around, trying to help capture Evimar, he began to feel that there was no place for him to run. The only place left was the harbor. Breathlessly, Evimar dodged this way and that trying to lose the guards. Even Evimar knew of the uncanny tracking sense of any member of the Crimson Blade. He didn’t have a chance.