duel masters

The air before Grand Summoner Marquin shimmered. The dusty lumps convulsed, growing and a line of armored raptors took shape. As one, they roared defiance at the east.

Three miles distant, Ragatel appeared unimpressed by his rival’s difficult maneuver. He gestured negligently. “I summon SWAT.”

The display reached Marquin as if he had been standing feet away. “You swat at me?” he scoffed. “Decorum requires at minimum a proper, flashy bluff. You’re unarmed! Not the least prepared to defend your most valuable territory.”

“Preparation—” there was a hiss of static and someone unseen claimed to be in position. “Was vital.”

portraiture

“You can trust me, can’t you?” He wiped the last of the charcoal and water from his face.

“Trust? First an assassin, now a thief catcher!” exclaimed the rat-faced man.

“Got something against law?” asked Talbot.

“No,” he growled. “Wait, yes!” The alleged strangler put a restraining hand on the small man’s shoulder. No one was innocent here, including the former secretary. Their employer walked past the two men to take in the crowd gathering outside the window.

“They’ve never seen such a large wanted portrait before, I’ll judge.”

“Congratulations, Talbot. Looks just like you.”

“I should be jailed shortly.”

heavy knowledge

It was large and made larger by the thick leather bands and mismatched buckles that tangled the ebony-wood cover. Little effort had been required to rig shoulder straps from the mess. Other loops secured pans and a bedroll while the remainder kept the pages themselves sheltered from sun and rain.

Even without extra gear, the book was absurdly heavy. This weight, despite Zane’s low center of gravity and surprising strength, posed an obvious hazard to mountain travel. It should have been less than surprising when the book drew him quietly backwards over the ledge, but somehow Zane still looked shocked.