VINDICTA

An old journal lay dusty on a rickety oakwood desk. Dust had gathered on it for what looked to be a few decades or so. The journal's smooth leather cover bore the initials V.M. on it and appeared to be laced with a golden thread. Whether or not it was authentic was still to be seen. Swirling clouds formed around as he blew dust off the book. "...now to get you out of this--"

An explosion a few meters behind him sent wooden debris flying through the room. "I don't think so, Paramydas!" A woman in an elegantly-designed sunday dress walked through the newly created opening in the wall. She stood about 5 foot, 2 inches tall (high heels included) and although her dress was obviously classy, it was tattered at various places. To match, her face was not pleased at all.

"You will hand over that journal. It belongs to me!" The woman declared. A figure from the dusty background threw toward her her weapon of choice: a zanbato. She invoked a rune on her forehead and pointed the massive sword at Paramydas, wielding it with only one arm. "Well?"

He smiled at her, "But Rana, last night you said--"

The woman's face flushed red, "Shut up! I will have none of your silver-tongued tricks!" She took the sword in her two hands and delivered a mighty swing. Paramydas stepped back and pulled out three cards which he threw at Rana. The cards exploded and left behind a massive smoke cloud. Rana heard a crashing sound near the window. With her zanbato firmly gripped, Rana twirled a few times and blew the smoke out. However, Paramydas was nowhere to be seen. Only an old and empty bedroom. The window broken, she peered out and only saw shattered wood.

"Curse him and his kind!" Rana slashed her sword downward in frustration. "Frausse!" A middle-aged manservant responded with swiftness to her bidding. "Quickly! We pursue that dog while his trail is hot." Frausse relieved Rana of her weapon and accompanied her out of the slummed house. Minutes pass and Paramydas rolled out from beneath the bed. "A close one."

"Is it worth anything?" Paramydas waited for his dealer to respond. The little boy in front of Paramydas held the magnifying glass and moved it back and forth between his eyes and the notebook. Silence fell between them for a moment before the boy responded, "I'll have to call dad."

A tall figure walked into the room, holding what looked like a metal tablet. "Call me for what?"

Heldram handed the tablet to his son, "Take this to the back room. 3rd shelf, 2nd row, left side. Next to the others."

The boy obeyed his father and struggled to carry the tablet into the backroom. Heldram looked at the notebook and scrutinized it for a moment. He threw it back to Paramydas, "It ain't worth more than the paper its written on. Thread's just dyed and it's not any older than my grandad. You got yourself a plain ol' diary, boy. Can't say for what's in it though but that's your problem."

Paramydas sighed a bit and left.

In the city of Granada, there was a grand library where some of the greatest seekers of knowledge gather. If there was something the city was known for, it was its library and fine roasted chicken on pita. Paramydas sat next to one of the numerous desks scattered across the main hall. Surrounding him was "the ancient texts of Granada" and all he could ponder on was the contents of the book he held.

Paramydas laid the diary down and opened its pages. It was only a matter of moments before his face lit up with glee.