Elsewhere in the world, many miles to the North of the sorcerer and the Clox Brothers, lay the city of Raith the largest city of the Northern Kingdom of Bellefeulle. On this night a telegraph was sent to a specialist for a secret appointment. In other words, it started as a night like any other.

Raith stood apart in every respect from the humble streets of Hollontown. Its buildings reached to the heavens with Gothic rooftops and gargoyles that adorned their gray stone walls. Arched window ways and silver inlays decorated every floor of the ornate and winding, spiral, structures. While they would have been a rarity in Hollontown, motorized transports frequented the onyx-paved streets of Raith.

At the border of the city limits ran a wall of brass and gray bricks that stood ten stories tall to keep back the winds and wilderness. At the epicenter of Raith, lay the Arch Ministry's Citadel; which acted as city hall, the barracks for the town guard, and the secret facilities of the Ministry of Han Kote.

The domed building stood as wide as five city blocks and fashioned primarily of white marble. The mahogany doors at the entryway stood two stories tall; each twelve feet across and two feet thick. Mechanical door openers, attached at the base of both doors, stuck out as giant brass cogs on metal rings that went into the white marble flooring of the entryway. Without mechanical aid, even the strongest of men might not be able to budge them.

Past the entryway into the Citadel walked a tall man, dressed in blue. He adjusted his silver rimmed eyeglasses and made his way past the brown-uniformed city workers to his destination. At the end of a long corridor, an offshoot from the foyer hall just after the main entryway, the hall came to a dead end and the portrait of the city's founder, Sir Wyndham Leach.

The portrait sat upon the furthest wall. More important, than the painting of the wild-haired elderly man, was the gas-lamp which hung next to it on the wall. The tall man in blue, gave the lamp a good yank and, with a racket of clanking gears, the wall and a circular section of flooring rotated. It deposited him in a secret hallway with steel lined walls instead of marble. He followed orders from the telegram he'd received earlier that hour and proceeded to his next destination, to seek an audience with the head of the Han Kote, Minister Magnus.

Magnus appeared to be in his mid-fifties. Even when at ease, his face seemed riddled with wrinkles and stress lines caused by the pressure of his position. Still in his brown suit, from the business of the day; he sat by an ornate, over-sized, Gothic fireplace reading over a file received by pneumatic tube. A leather scroll case, from the transit, sat on the end table next to him. He drew from his pipe as he sat, lost in thought, rereading the document. His eyes crossed as he read through the never-ending legal specifications. His thoughts interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Enter," beckoned Magnus.

The tall man in blue, came into the room, and hung his blue bowler hat atop the coat rack by the point of ingress. He was so pale in fact, with his blue eyes and white hair, he appeared to suffer from albinism. He wore a blue frock coat over top a blue waistcoat, complete with side-buttoned shirt and bow tie. A black pocket fold kept its shape by a silver pin in the form of an armored gauntlet. He stood in the door frame a moment before proceeding over to the chair across from Minister Magnus. Half-angled between facing the fireplace, and the man he'd come to meet, the tall man took a seat.

“Evening Llewellyn," began the Minister, “I see you're looking well," his voice a bit gruff after years partaking in the finer tobaccos.

“Doing well enough, sir. How might you be faring?" Llewellyn responded, a bit surprised by Minister Magnus' casual tone. He adjusted his expensive-looking, ornate, silver-rimmed glasses, concern crossing his face.

“Family life is a bit irksome but otherwise going well," said Magnus, “I heard you've taken up fixing airship engines, or some such thing."

Llewellyn responded in an intelligent voice, unable to sound entirely casual. He adjusted his glasses once more, nervously, “Just as a hobby, sir."

“I tried to have a hobby once," began Magnus as he looked back at the papers held in hand,"And then I had children. Well, that was the end of that notion," he chortled to himself a bit as he read over the papers.

“Not to sound rude," began Llewellyn,"But you and I have never had a casual conversation before. It's always been a bit more straight to business till now. Is everything all right?"

Magnus cleared his throat again and looked to the tall man opposite him. He adjusted his glasses and looked upon the papers in hand once more, "Quite all right, yes. Quite. Perhaps we should get straight on to to the business at hand. Priority mission just came down the pipes. Can't send in the regular police on this one. Needs to be quiet and off the records."

"Well that is what the Han Kote is for, after all," said Llewellyn. “Espionage and subterfuge are our modus operandi, as one might say."

"Indeed. Though this could prove to be quite the danger." Magnus said before he rolled up the scrolls, "This order comes straight from the Arch Minister himself."

“Who is the job and what are the whereabouts?" questioned Llewellyn.

"Not a job this time," responded Magnus, "It's an errand."

Llewellyn seemed puzzled as he asked, "Why would the Han Kote be required for an errand?"

Magnus sighed then responded, "It's the damned Vroleks from the Northern Country. One of the noblemen from Gruule decided to head south and stir up trouble in a very bad way."

"So it's a babysitting errand, then?" asked Llewellyn.

Magnus set the scroll in his lap then rubbed one of his temples in hand, "Not in the least. It's Karrn the Killer. He has decided to grace us with his presence."

"Karrn the Killer sounds much more like a job than an errand." said Llewellyn, "Just to make sure I'm not missing something; you want him brought in and not taken out?"

"On the nose, my good fellow," stated Magnus, "It has to be an errand, he's a noble of Gruule and they want him back there to stand trial for his crimes, in their courts." Magnus looked to Llewellyn, eye to eye, “Non-lethal measures only. Direct writ from the Arch Minister says that we need this as an errand because of the new treaty they've worked out with the Vroleks of Gruule. The writ specifically states that it must not be jeopardized."

Llewellyn recalled what he knew of the target, “Karrn is a monster, and not just because he's a Vrolek. He believes that if he bathes in the blood of a thousand humans he can become immortal. He's a blood magician, which in and of itself is illegal. Who knows how many he's killed already."

“Orders are orders and I cannot supersede these ones. The higher ups want him deported, not imprisoned here," said the Minister.

“That is preposterous. He won't hesitate to kill us. What if there was an accident that resulted in his demise?" suggested Llewellyn.

Magnus shook his head, “There's a reason why the Arch Minister wants the Han Kote to work on this one, and not the police. We are a superior organization and of the commanders I have, I trust you the most, my lad."

Llewellyn let out a heavy sigh and took a moment to think over what could be done, “How many followers does he have?"

“Intel suggests that he has only a handful of true followers, but that he may have as many as twenty people under blood control." said Magnus. “Those under blood control are also not to be killed. We need finesse on this one."

Llewellyn sat back in his chair to look at the ceiling as he mulled over options, “I'll need a team of five, including myself. The others I'll need are Imogene and the triplets."

“I'd rather not have Imogene pulled in on this one," insisted Magnus.

“You asked for finesse," countered Llewellyn, “She is the best we have."

Magnus stood with a stern look to Llewellyn, then walked over to the fireplace and pulled a lever hidden in the mantle. The fireplace spun around to reveal a steam-powered wireless telegraph that used the fire from the fireplace as its own independent power source. The minister tapped a message in while he spoke to the albino, “I'll call in your team and have them meet you in the hangar. Take the carriage to the Whispering Way Inn. It would appear to be the base of his operations."

Llewellyn had a bit of a smile cross his face as he stood from his seat, and prepared to set out once more. Before the albinic man could depart, Magnus added, “And If you let anything happen to my little girl, I'll have your head."

Llewellyn turned back as he grabbed his bowler hat from the rack. A curious look crossed his face, “Your little girl? Imogene is seven feet tall and I have personally seen her throw a full-grown man halfway across a room..."

Minister Magnus cleared his throat, “Well, I suppose she does take after her mother in that way... nevertheless, she is still my daughter and I expect her back without a scratch."

“All right... Any other impossible requests, while you're at it?" asked Llewellyn.

“Just get going and remember that this is an errand and not a job." said Magnus as Llewellyn departed the office.