"I need to know his name, where he's from, which of the great families he belongs to," Cisco mused as his eyes flicked over Baelgor's broad shoulders and the gleam of that priceless spatial ring. "The way he flaunts that treasure, he's either a young master or the bastard son of one. Either way, he's a fool fat with inheritance. And fools like him… are my specialty."
Ahead of him, Baelgor continued his march through the streets with all the confidence of a general on the battlefield except that he had absolutely no idea where he was going. He stopped at corners, stared blankly at passing carriages, and even sniffed the air as though expecting the wind to guide him. To anyone else, he looked like a madman pretending at grandeur.
To Cisco, it was a gift from the heavens.
