The ficlet that is posted as prologue to this fic was sent to me by my favourite fan fiction author, the one and only Skull Bearer. (the valkyrie bows to the dark deity of Raistlin/Dalamar slash) -> My story is actually a sequel to it (originally written to cheer her up, but she kindly shares it with the public) and so she allowed me to post her work as well. Please, notice that the story is set in her alternate universe where Raistlin and Dalamar meet many years earlier, even before Raislin's test. Raistlin therefore spends his mercenary years with him, not with Caramon.

Disclaimer: We didn't invent Dragonlance and its characters, we only borrow them.

Warning: Slash. If you don't like that, don't read it. Flame for other reasons, if you must. I know there are some logic holes in my part. Have fun finding them...

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Prologue: Unexpected

Captain Madra was not in the best of moods.
True, he had finally convinced that clogged-brained lordling that it would be in his best interests to tackle the incoming northern army in the mountain passes instead of waiting until they'd reached the grasslands where the invading army's main strength, that of numbers, could be put to it's full use- which had been the lord's initial idea! Despite the knowlege that his arguing had no doubt saved more than a few of his men's lives, his headache and the lordling's nasty little comments about demotion were getting to him.
Well, let them take on the army using his plans instead of those of a self-important idiot who hadn't even the slightest tactical sense, and then they would see who was getting demoted!
It was in this foul mood that Madra stormed down the castle's corridors, intent to getting back to the training area and maybe running a few of his men into the ground. That always got rid of his bad temper.
But by all the vanished gods, his employer was an idiot.
A muffled crash coming for behind a nearby door brought him abruptly out of his thoughts. Stopping, he stared at the closed door, then sighed. It led to a small space used for storing the servants' cleaning equipment.
If he had a copper piece for every time he'd found one of his men in there with one of the housemaids, he'd have enough to /buy/ the invading army.
It was a simple thing to deal with, interrupt the couple, shout at the soldier until his ears rang, and put him on half-rations and latrine duty for the week.
Captain Madra took a deep breath and reached for the doorhandle, ready to storm in and let the air in his lungs out in a thundering roar.
"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE-" Madra choked in mid-shout.
He had been expecting to find a flustered maid and a red-faced soldier, usually half or wholly undressed, and while the positions were about right, the subjects most assurdly were not. In fact they were not even his men at all, but two mercenary mages who had signed on three weeks ago. Weird pair. He'd been opposed to letting them on at first, didn't trust them.
He was not, however, expecting to find the two of them trysting in a broom closet. Trysting being a nice way describing how the Dark elf was taking the golden skinned human against the wall so hard they'd knocked over one of the mops.
They had noticed him, they'd have had to been deaf not to when half the castle must have heard his yelling, but clearly they didn't care. In fact, he caught the red robe- what was his name, Raistlin? Something like that- shooting him a malicious grin before his lips became otherwise occupied with the Dark elf's neck.
Madra backed out of the closet and closed the door behind him, leaning back against he opposite wall. He wondered what in the Abyss he was meant to do about this, the mages were not part of his army, they were mercenaries and so he couldn't met out any punishment, however much he might want to. They had nothing to do with him.
Then he had a better idea, this was not his problem. He'd just walk on as if nothing had happened and pretend not to have heard or seen anything.
It was quite obvious the two wizards would not be finished for some time, Madra thought, smiling, and unless he was much mistaken it would be lunch soon, and the lordling would be heading down this very corridor on his way to the dining rooms.
Let him take care of this, after all, he had hired them.
Chuckling, Captain Madra strolled on down to the training grounds.

Skull Bearer.