What the heck. I'll start. I did say I would. Feel free to edit.
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Lanic of Gral wiped the ale from his face and stared at the wide blue tower rising above the city of Dirain.
The God-Emperors of Dirain and all the land of Alizar had ruled the land for a hundred tens of years, deities in all but name, and the Blue Tower had stood for more than half that time. He glowered at the blue stone edifice, shimmering azure in the early morning light against the darker blue of the sky, at its white lattices and the red colonnades that sprouted around its base like fire. Three days and four nights it had been since the girl, Yasmina, had disappeared into that cyan keep, and he was beginning to wonder.
Their plan had been simple, but driven by the demands of urgent greed and an empty belly: the girl, Yasmina, had danced for a certain baron of Dirain of no subtlety and low preferences in his entertainment. Her curved form and skill with the dance had brought her to his attention, and from his to the Emperor, whose appetite and tastes were also well known. Yasmina had been 'invited' to the Blue Spire three days hence and there she had remained since. The plan had been for the girl - an accomplished thief as well as dancer - to lower a rope from the lowest of windows to lift him up, and that together they would plunder the lower levels and steal away to the furthest corner of Dirain.
But the promised rope had not appeared that night, nor the next, nor any after, and Lanic in his heart began to suspect that she had made other plans. Still, he knew nothing for certain and he felt even so a little responsibility towards her, or even a sullen protectiveness stirred by her dark, entreating eyes and bare, dusky arms.
He stood. He would go to Erwol the Sorceror, a hegde magician and dabbler of some acclaim in the Low Quarter. Erwol owed him a favour of no small measure and could be counted on to assist him so far as there was no danger to himself. Her fate weighed heavily on Lanic's mind; and, not least either, he wondered if perhaps she had said overmuch and their compact discovered. If so, it would be a good time to revisit his homeland in the far north. Lanic drained the last of his alepot and tossed a copper coins onto the table; the ale had had a funny taste and he would be damned if his Acanthian sensibilities would let him reward the swill. He shifted his swordbelt and stalked towards the Low Street, never noticing the man, cloaked and hooded, who rose from the shop across the street and slipped through the crowds after him.
