Before the Events of A Fallen Star
The following is a report delivered to the Trezaguet Crime Family, in the Year 4 ANE (Age of New Edara), three years prior to the falling of the star.
Our attempts to investigate the she-devil that many call Knightmare have been fruitless. All that we have learned is what every man and woman in the Old City knows — that there is a dark force that watches our streets.
Other than this small amount of information, nothing. Our eyes and ears are everywhere, our sources stretch from the holds of the fishing ships to the depths of the Pit to the dark tunnels that wrap in the hills, and still, nothing has been discovered about Knightmare’s allegiances, her goals, her desires, or any possible way to stop her. We will continue to look, but even circulating word of a massive reward for information about her, and an even larger reward if she is willing to lend us our services, have brought no results.
Still, our partnerships in the Pit continue to flourish, the black crystal and clancha routes are as prosperous as ever, and our overhead shipping business grows ever larger. Our fleet moves into Sunsetton on the morrow, with profits expected to increase over last year by 50%. For further details, I will report in person.
Forever your servant,
Massa Cho Verrin
After the Events of A Slanted Reflection
An anonymous letter received by intelligence in an unnamed crime family.
I will make this swift, for I know your time is of the utmost value.
The Velvet head of security, BC, she is a danger, and a threat, especially as the Machine King grows ever closer.
She remains utterly silent about her past, with neither her excessive drink and drug, neither woman nor man loosening her lips, yet her training rivals the premier among the shadowmen.
She smells of Edaran and Juverran, not uncommon here, but so faintly as to seem nearly dead. At times she fades entirely from the other world, a phenomenon so unnatural my sould cries out to eliminate her. Upon your order, I will attempt to do so, and damn the wildwoman, though I fear the force that hangs upon that tattooed woman.
I remain ever yours, faithfully watching from the inside.
© Colin Sharpe 2017