Jiana Muse shuffled along the sandy road. Since joining The Reliquary, she had been assigned to shadow an agent who had been present at the indrik hunt, a large redguard named Braxwolf. Braxwolf talked more than Jiana liked, and drank more ale than she preferred. In fact, they were opposites in most ways. Her frail frame and pale skin sizzled under the uncompromising Alik’r Desert sun. Braxwolf’s bald, brown head reflected it nearly as much as his heavy plate armor did, but he did not seem bothered by the heat. Jiana sometimes wondered if this was Jibbs’ and Kash’s idea of a joke – sending a small, quiet vampire into the blazing desert with this chatty tank of a man. But Brax’s sword and shield were second to none and his heart desired only good. Despite their differences, he was the perfect mentor.
Her name is Jiana Muse. At least that’s what she called herself as a little girl in the streets of Davon’s Watch. Her real name, as well as much of her childhood, was forgotten, perhaps intentionally. It was a name that sounded genteel, like the nobles who sometimes traveled through town on their way to important business, and who she had always admired from a distance. She’d watch them from the dusty shadows, learning to mimic their mannerisms and vocabulary. That’s why she chose the name for herself. It was like the name of a powerful queen.