Chapter 5
Three weeks had passed since news broke of the Origin Incident, or ‘Occidentis Incident’, as the news bulletins called it. News of the attack had by now spread to all corners of Lokahn. Most of the Lokahnian common folk grew anxious over the attack; it hadn’t been long since war held their homeland in an iron grip, and the horrors of the previous conflict were still fresh in their minds. Horrors no one wanted to relive.
Most worried also that this attack would bring a change in Imperial rule. Thus far, the Justitian Empire had been aloof, their religious policies being the lone exception. The country was autonomous, wasn’t subject to any drafts for the imperial army, and paid little in taxes. With the tides of insurgency now erupting over the land, it wasn’t foolish to think that would change.
But the attack wasn’t all turning three weeks old. By now, Victor had reached the point of no return. There was no mistaking it; this was the work for him. Dangerous, but well-paying, with the company of both his childhood friend and a new introverted one, to boot.
Alas, tedium had reared its ugly head, for those moments of danger and excitement were few compared to the average routine: Roll out of bed cursing why the night was so short. Change clothes and run downstairs to attend roll call. Have an average breakfast. Spend the day either training or doing menial work, such as helping at the market, or going on patrol through some filth-covered district of the city.
* * *
“Everyone is present,” said guildmaster Jonathan. Victor held a hand before his mouth to cover up a yawn. Different day, same roll call. Or so it appeared at first. “Before everyone walks off, I have an announcement to make.” The guildmaster paced up and down the room, running a hand through his pale beard. “It has been quite some time since our last expedition. And that is about to change.”
The briefing room became rowdy, as the members discussed amongst themselves. Most were excited at the prospect of an expedition, but some had their doubts. A few minutes later, the guildmaster called for order. The room fell back into silence.
“Now then, allow me to continue with the details of this upcoming undertaking. We have…” the guildmaster paused abruptly. He idled for a moment, then glanced over his shoulder at a parchment lying on a table. “...received a request from imperial officials to bring a group of scoundrels to justice. The imperials have had their hands full dealing with the dragon menace, which is why they asked for us to deal with this problem in their stead. Not that it matters. Either way, There’s a fine payday in store for us. That’s all that matters, am I right, John?”
The veteran named John was pulled out of his daydream. “Uh, yes sir!”
Victor bit his lip. Something didn’t feel right, but he struggled to put his finger on what. “Now then, let’s talk about our target,” the guildmaster continued, still pacing up and down, “We’re after gang of highwaymen that have been attacking travellers on the Ravens Hill - Autokratorberg road. Imperial intelligence has pinpointed the exact location of their hideout in the forests west of Autokratorberg. We will go there, arrest or kill the bandits, then hand them over to the authorities. This won’t be difficult, we’ve done it before, after all.”
Another round of boisterous conversations arose. The veterans spoke in a casual manner about the expedition. Amongst the Regulars ran a similar course of indifference; they already had experience with these large expeditions. The Initiates on the other hand, were nervous, yet excited at the prospect of seeing the world beyond the walls.
The guildmaster called for order again, and continued. “Another thing to note is that a junior of the imperial wizard corps will be accompanying us on this expedition. The imperials wish for him to acquire real world experience. Furthermore, I don’t want to hear any ‘if’s’ and ‘but’s’ about the expedition. No questions whatsoever, understood?”
“YES, SIR!”
“Good. This expedition will take place in three weeks. One more thing, for those on patrol duty today. There’s a manifestation taking place on Orchard Square. Your duty is to control the crowd at that gathering. I cannot tell you what is going to happen exactly. And no, your questions are not wanted here either. Just do your job. Understood?”
“YES, SIR!”
“Good, you are hereby dismissed. Get to your work.”
With roll call completed, the guild members left the briefing room. Victor went to the mess hall to have breakfast, as he’d do every morning. Breakfast today consisted of scrambled eggs scattered on a clump of brown bread, and a tall portion of milk to go along with it, served on a wooden platter. A generic breakfast, but one which gets the job done. With platter in hand, Victor sat down for breakfast. Not long thereafter, Eric and William came to him with their own breakfast.
After a quick greeting, they dug into their food. A few bites in, Victor spoke up. “So… we’re going on an expedition.”
“Damn straight,” Eric said.
“You’ve been on expedition before, Eric?” Victor said.
“Three times. Last time was ten months ago, so it’s about time, if you ask me!”
Victor crossed his arms. Eric’s excitement for the expedition sprang off his body like river water from a waterfall. “I take it that you’re looking forward to going off on an adventure?”
“You bet!”
“Well, what’s so exciting about expeditions, exactly?”
“What’s not exciting about it? You get to go out into nature, away from this dusty city, explore your homeland, cut down some scumbags, and the like. It’s what you live for, Vic! Right, Will?” Eric said, bumping William’s shoulder with an elbow.
“y-Yes, that’s right,” a startled William said, putting down the mug he was about to take a sip from.
“Well, that sounds great and all, but… I have a bad feeling about this whole thing,” Victor said.
Eric raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
Victor tapped his fingers on the table. “It’s just this bell in my mind, chiming. There’s something really off about the way the guildmaster explained everything, and I can’t help but worry about it.”
“Well, what are you waiting for?” Eric said, lifting his bread to his lips, “Get it off your chest, if it really bothers you that much.”
“I can’t help but feel like there’s more to this. The harshness when it came to questions, and the lack of detail in general, both with the expedition and the event on the square today... I don’t get it,” Victor said. With a sigh, he took another bite of his food.
“That’s just business as usual for the guildmaster, Vic,” Eric said, voice muffled by a piece of bread. He swallowed the chewed-up mass in his mouth, before continuing. “You really shouldn’t take it that way Ol’ John is a major grump. ’s just how he is, trust me.”
“Alright then,” said Victor, as he took his attention back to his breakfast.
“...Can I ask you a question or two, Eric?” William said.
“Sure, let’s hear it, Will,” Eric said.
“Where’s Autokratorberg located? I’ve never heard of that city before.”
“It’s the closest city to the north, about a six hour hike to get there. Makes sense that you don’t know about it, since the city was called Divinity’s Triumph not too long ago,” Eric said, as he took a bite of egg-covered bread. “Okay… also, what are we going to do today?”
“Same as usual. Either patrol or guard duty,” Eric said.
Victor let out a sigh, and slouched in his chair. “What’s the problem, Vic?” said Eric. Victor didn’t make any effort to respond, sinking deeper into his chair. New day, same as all the others.
“Ehm… Why do we keep doing the same work?” asked William.
“Because you’re both newcomers, and I’d rather not have to explain to the guildmaster that you two ran off and got yourselves into something...” A thud and a clatter of a fork cut through the conversation. Victor had fallen out of his chair, and now scrambled to get back on his feet. The guild members nearby laughed as a red-cheeked Victor sank back into his chair, polishing the dust off of his fork. “...something akin to that.”
“Oh yeah, that reminds me, actually. I almost forgot to say this, but today you two will be patrolling on your own,” Eric said. A flare of red heat coursed through Victor’s body; He had been doing patrol duty on the regular, but never without Eric there to guide him. A regular patrol already seemed like a challenge in and of itself, but what of the gathering scheduled for today?
“Are you sure today’s the right day for it? What with the event and all?” said Victor.
“Most certainly. You know the deal by now, and besides, events like that aren’t complicated at all. It’s most likely crowd control, nothing more. Besides, there’s something personal I need to do. I hope you understand,” Eric said. Victor nodded his head in response.
The company finished their breakfast and left the mess hall to prepare for the day’s work; Eric went off on his own way, while Victor and William stuck together for their preparations. After all, both were assigned to patrol duty, and neither dared to patrol alone at this time. As Victor reached the top of the stairwell, his shoulder collided with someone in a navy blue uniform.
“Oh, my sincerest apologies,” said the man, “I did not mean to be so rude. Now if you excuse me, I have urgent matters that I need to attend to.” The man quickly descended the stairwell, leaving the two Initiates behind dumbfounded.
“Wow, he seems like a pretty clumsy person,” William said.
“I guess you could say that… wait a minute.” Victor worked through what he had seen. The red signet wrapped around the man’s finger, and his robes bearing a golden hammer symbol, a bright contrast with the dark blue cloth. He paced a few steps from William, piecing it all together.
“What is it, Victor?”
“Wasn’t that an imperial official?” Victor said a moment later, having connected the details.
“What do you mean?”
“Didn’t you see it? His robes were in that same dark bluish shade, and he had one of those red rings on, like the baroness did. He also talked like an official.”
William placed a hand on his chin. “Now that you mention it, yeah, he did sound like an imperial. What was he doing here, though?”
“I don’t know. It’s probably none of our business though. Let’s just get ready and leave before we’re overheard discussing this.”
Once all preparations were done, Victor told William to patrol ahead of him at first, as he had family matters to attend to. William raised no objection to his request, and so Victor was on his way to send a letter and some money he had saved up to his family. Nothing made life a greater challenge than being without them. Although it became easier by the day, the images of little Charlotte and mother Elizabeth were never distant.
Using a map Eric had given him a few days prior, he navigated his way to the Summer Gate; the same gate he’d entered the city by three weeks earlier. Once there, he entered a small building serving as the courier office, a few steps removed from the gate.
A mustachioed man greeted him as he stepped inside, telling him to have a seat. Victor informed as to who the letter’s recipient was, and paid a small fee as was the custom. The man told him the letter would be sent tomorrow. With the letter on its way, Victor left the building, and jogged to his patrol area.
William stood shivering at a street corner. Victor rolled his eyes, given how mild the temperature was. “There you are,” he said. “You seem rather nervous. Have you begun patrolling yet?”
“N-no… It’s just…”
“Don’t think I even needed to ask. Let’s just get to work, shall we?”
* * *
“Attention, citizens of Ravens Hill!”
Midway through Victor and William’s patrol, calls sounded through the streets. “Attention, all citizens of Ravens Hill! Your presence is requested on Orchard Square!” The town crier yelled, loud enough to be audible above the crowds.
“Victor? I think this might be that thing the guildmaster told us about.” William said.
“Well, what are we waiting for?” Victor said, stomping a boot on the ground. “We need to get over there. Let’s hurry!”
The two pressed their way through the crowds until they reached the square. A large wooden platform had been constructed in the middle. Atop the platform, a masked man leaned against a gallow. A dreadful suspense burned in Victor’s veins.
Is someone going to be executed?
When the square had filled up, the town crier appeared on the platform. “Citizens of Raven’s Hill, your attention please! Her highness, Baroness Agatha of Ravens Hill, speaks!”
Victor and William stood with sword in hand, as they watched the baroness step on the platform, wearing the same navy blue uniform from when they met her a few weeks back. A gust blew through the square, sending their blond hair in a tangle. An eerie silence hung, as the baroness stepped to the front of the platform.
“My dearest citizens, I stand here before you today to deliver a message. I believe we’ve all heard of the recent developments. That which we’ve feared for so long has finally come true: The death cult has returned.” A few audible gasps could be heard. Most of the audience wasn’t impressed, however; tepid conversations broke out all across the audience.
“This cult has sought fit to spread their evil. Our sons and loved ones, who wanted nothing more than to keep the peace, ripped apart by monsters, monsters that take great pleasure in their bloodshed!”
Victor’s head throbbed. Something didn’t feel right. The baroness’ voice was stern, and her facial muscles were tensed up; a sharp contrast from the warm, welcoming old lady he had met in court a few weeks ago.
“I’ve seen it for myself, how dozens of families had to see their loved ones come back in little pieces… The sheer pain they went through, having to bury what little remnants there were of their loved ones… That is an agony that I wouldn’t wish upon my worst enemies.”
A droplet ran down the baroness’s wrinkled right cheek. Victor sensed the gravity to the situation at hand; the baroness’s emotion seemed so genuine. Visibly pained, she closed her eyes, and took a deep breath through her teeth.
“But that isn’t the worst part of these slayings... For the depravity would not have been possible, were it not for those monsters receiving help! Help from ordinary humans like yourself!”
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
The crowd became rowdy, but there was little panic. The announcement of Dragonkind’s return, and that humans were helping them didn’t seem to be the concern of the populace at all. Secrecy about their true beliefs kept the news from being a surprise.
Ignoring the audience, the baroness continued: “Yes, humans who still admire and bow their necks down before these beasts! And together, they hope to destroy the peace we have fostered for so long! I stand here to shout a message to those who wish to destroy our beautiful Lokahn: We will fight and strike you down, with all our might! And fight we will, right here! See now, the fate of those who aid the monsters in their onslaught!”
With her speech finished, the baroness walked off the platform. She gave a signal to a soldier to fetch someone, and stood off to the side next to a different group of soldiers. Bodyguards, from the way their eyes scanned the audience constantly, and the dull color of their armor.
Not long thereafter, the soldier came back, pushing forward a bearded man with black hair and his hands tied up. The man was distressed; His eyes were unfocused, and he bared his teeth in a reserved manner. He received a push directing him towards the stairs, and had his arm grabbed by the brute upon reaching the first step, who pulled him onto the platform.
“Please, you don’t understand!” he cried out at the audience. The masked man stopped moving the man in the direction of the gallow, instead giving the man the opportunity to speak. “Everyone, I’ve done nothing wrong! They’re killing me because of my faith, I-”
“Silence him!” yelled the baroness from her cosy position beside her bodyguards. The brute obeyed the command without protest: He pressed the man’s mouth shut, and lifted his neck into the noose. In a final act of defiance, the man’s facial expression grew into a harsh frown, and he spoke out loud a final message for the crowd to hear:
“Divinity will preserve my soul, imperial… Let’s see what happens when YOU leave this world!”
The masked brute pulled the lever, and the floor under the gallow dropped, leaving the victim suspended in the air, kicking his legs wildly in an attempt to break free. After a long couple minutes, the struggling ceased with the victim’s head dropping. The light had left his eyes; he was no more. Audible gasps and a lone whistle sounded in the audience, as the masked man pulled the body out of the noose, and carried it away.
The baroness returned to the platform. “My dearest citizens. Let this be a warning to the monsters and their cultist followers. We will finish what we started eight years ago, and wipe this evil out for good!” Nervous conversations erupted, as the baroness left the platform for the final time.
Anxiety boiled in Victor’s stomach like a disturbed beehive. This wasn’t the first time he’d witnessed death take hold; He had seen plenty of it during the evacuation of the Citadel, but this wasn’t the same. There was a coldness at play, a dark force whose mere presence alerts the mind. From the methodical planning involved, to the act being committed before a large crowd, and the reason of ‘He is a cultist’ used as justification; this was anything but just.
That poor, poor man... he couldn't have done anything which deserves death, he looked so innocent...
The rest of the patrol was a major struggle. Victor’s thoughts would not budge an inch. Concentrating on doing his job was a nightmare on it’s own, one made no easier by passersby referencing the execution every so often. On occasion Victor would peek at his companion, whose face was always tensed up with stress; William’s impression of the execution clearly didn’t differ much from his own.
* * *
Victor and William trudged into the mess hall, exhausted after a never ending day of patrol. Eric had already sat down at the other end of the room, next to some of the other Regulars. He talked and laughed along with them, only stopping to take a bite from his meal. It was clear he wouldn’t join them tonight, and so neither made an attempt to grab his attention. They grabbed a platter without looking at the contents: Beef and sprouts with pieces of onion and gravy, and sat next to each other at an empty segment of the table.
The first few bites were a struggle. Victor couldn’t muster the will to eat. It was as if his throat contracted every time he lifted the fork to his mouth, as if his body became nauseous at the thought of eating. Through bursts of willpower alone did he manage to eat. William didn’t fare much better; he fidgeted around with the food, head resting against his hand as he arranged the gravy-covered sprouts into odd shapes.
Victor pressed the side of his fork against the piece of beef in the middle of his platter, in an attempt to cut it. The meat shed some of its juices, which spilled in the direction of the sprouts.
“Will… do you want to talk?” said Victor.
William let out a weak grown as he raised his head to meet Victor’s. “Sure. About what, though?”
Victor took a deep breath. “Well, I think you know exactly what there is to talk about,” he said in a monotonous tone. “It’s just.... I can’t keep my mind off of it. Every time I think it stops, it comes back. Do you get what I’m saying?”
William’s unease became all the more visible, as he fiddled his fork between his fingers. “...Yes, that’s what I’m feeling. I can’t even eat anything. It’s surreal, like my body physically can’t take it.”
“I don’t get it,” Victor said, “They say they’re going to deal with those dragon attacks… by killing civilians? What is that going to prove?”
William released the fork from his hand, which fell and drowned in a puddle of gravy. “They’re going to go after the dragon worshippers, I think. Like your father, ‘Dragonists’ you called them, right?”
Victor sighed, and turned his sight to the floor. “Draconists. But... why though? What did that man even do wrong? Why are they going after people over something so mundane like spirituality?”
“Well, the baroness said he was helping those dragons, even though he said otherwise.”
Victor sighed, and threw his hand upwards, which fell against the wooden table as quick as it came up. “I don’t know… it seems so extreme,” he said. What do you even say about something like this? He stared at his uneaten dinner, hoping the will to dig in would wash upon his shores.
“Errhm...” William’s lips opened, but no words came out. Victor didn’t respond. “They said they’re going to start killing those Draconists, and your father is one of them. Why do you seem so unconcerned with that?”
Victor took the amulet in between his fingers. The amulet gave off a dull shine, as the torchlight glistered in the silver it was made of. “It’s been so long since I last saw him. What chance is there that he’d turn up alive somewhere, in the middle of a city of all places? I wouldn’t be surprised if he was long gone. I just want to have some closure at this point, that’s all. As long as he hasn’t turned into a bloodthirsty psychopath, I will accept it” Victor said, placing a sprout into his mouth. Wiliam resumed eating as well.
“Now look at who we have here!”
A sudden thud on the table to their left frightened the two. They whipped their heads in the direction of the sound to find Eric sitting on a chair next to them, smiling. “You didn’t think I’d forget about you two, right?”
Victor threw his hand in the air with a groan. “Gods almighty, have you ever considered a normal ‘hello’, Eric? This is the tenth time this week alone you went for the surprise!”
Eric shrugged. “What can I say? That’s just the way I like it. So then, how’d patrol go?”
In a flash, Victor fell back into the pit his mind had been stuck in. It was an abysmal feeling; akin to a slurry pigs would roll in. “It was… not bad, I suppose. Nothing out of the ordinary, really,” Victor said, trying his best to not sound depressing.
Eric didn’t buy it. “You seem a little shaky, Vic. What’s the matter?”
“Well, that’s umm… hard to explain.” Victor sighed. The anvil weighing down his mind got heavier, as the topic of the execution came back up. He had a fleeting breath of freedom from the matter, and wished said freedom would return.
Alas, it wasn’t meant to be. Eric tapped William’s shoulder to get his attention. “Do you know what he’s talking about?”
“Oh, well yes, it’s about the event on the square,” William said, “It wasn’t pretty, to put it mildly.”
“Well, what happened?” Eric said.
“The event was actually an execution. This poor man was hanged right in front of us, they accused him of supporting those dragon attacks. He looked frail and badly beaten up. It seemed absurd, to be honest. I don’t think he did anything bad, he seemed so innocent,” William said.
“Oh, I see,” Eric said, “I heard something about that earlier, actually.”
Victor groaned lightly. He had been dodging arrows for a while, but his luck wouldn’t last forever. Sure enough, “Vic, listen,” said Eric, laying his hand on Victor’s shoulder. Victor turned his face to him in a beleaguered manner. Here it comes…
“You shouldn’t feel so bad about it, really. It’s not like you could have changed the outcome,” Eric said, “Besides, having to watch people die is a part of this work, you know.”
“Yes, I know, but… it still doesn’t sit right with me, that an innocent looking man was killed.”
Eric’s eyes lit up for a moment upon hearing Victor’s response. “Innocent? Heh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that if I were you.”
Victor’s head rose up from his palm in an instant. He looked to his side, where Eric giving him a faint, but confident smile. “What do you mean, Eric? ...What do you know about that man, anyway?”
Eric folded his arms, and leaned back in his chair. “Let’s say that I heard some interesting things about him. As it turns out, that man sought to contact other cultists and plot an attack on a civilian target. He admitted to wanting to join those dragons, too.”
“But what makes you think that is true?... How do you know about all of this, anyway?”
“I can’t tell you that, Vic. It’s a secret.”
“Secret? What do-”
“Can't say much more than that, since this is all secret information, anyway. If you have a problem with it, you should talk to the guildmaster.” Victor’s lips opened a little, and then closed them again as he pondered. Everything around this execution was kept under lock and key, and he didn’t understand why.
“Anyway, I think we’ve talked about this whole thing for quite long enough. Hows about we instead move on to something the both of you will likely enjoy talking about?” Eric asked. Neither of the Initiates disagreed, least of all Victor; he was exhausted by the execution, and would prefer anything to procrastinating on the thought any longer.
The three discussed how patrol went for the remainder of dinner. This was indeed a more positive topic. Everything besides the execution had gone smoothly, and neither Victor nor William had any issues beyond what had already been discussed. Pleased, Eric told them their success meant more independent work was on the way, news which met a timid but accepting response.
Victor and William spent the rest of the night training, with Eric there to tutor. Victor’s sword technique was improving rapidly; His strikes were confident and tight, nowhere near as unbalanced and loose as three weeks prior. His shield skills on the other hand, left a lot to be desired. But things were improving at a steady pace, and that’s what counted.
And so, another day had come to a close. The three wished each other a good night, and went to their respective rooms. Victor changed into his night clothing, threw his amulet onto his bag, and slid into bed. After laying awake for some time pondering the day’s events, Victor’s eyelids closed, and he fell asleep.
* * *
“General Sanctullator?”
“Come in, my lady.”
Baroness Agatha stepped into the general’s study, closing the rickety old door behind her. “Well, there’s no turning back now. The cultist we had captured has been executed in public. The news is bound to reach the rest of them anytime now.”
Sanctullator put away the book he had been reading down on the desk. “Indeed, there’s no second guessing this now.” He let out a diluted sigh. “I hope this isn’t going to backfire on us, Agatha. I’ve had my doubts about these measures, even with all other barons extolling their virtues.”
“You can trust me, I promise. Most of these cultists will drop their lust for power as the consequences for having them become clear,” Agatha said. “Besides, if things truly do fall out of our control, we can always call on the Emperor to send in the elite legions. We will be victorious at the end of the day.”
The general took off a pair of invisible glasses, and erratically fidgeted them between his fingers. “Listen, Agatha. Let’s set a few things straight here. First off, the other generals and the Emperor were crystal clear when they told me that what we have here is what we get to work with. The only way we’re getting any sort of reprieve is if things get to the point where we literally cannot hold a single field of this damned country. Do you understand?”
Agatha folded her arms. “Hmm. I suppose that’s not the best. But still, this will work. Only a small minority of the cultists will remain in the end, and it then is a simple manner of rounding them up,” she said. She let out an arrogant scoff. “You’ll see.”
“Simple? Anything but simple!” Sanctullator raised his voice. Agatha’s eyes went wide open; she had set him off again. “Especially not if we keep taking casualties like we’re doing now! We’ve killed all of one dragon and a dozen followers so far, compared to nearly two-hundred of our men now. For all we know, this whole ‘increase the persecution’ angle everyone insists upon might result in the opposite effect happening! What if the so far quiet populace turns against us? HAVE YOU EVER CONSIDERED THAT?”
With his anger reaching its peak, the general slammed his fist on the table. Agatha winced and stepped backwards. The general heaved for a few seconds, as a tide crashed upon his soul, washing away the bitter anger.
“I… I let go of myself again. My apologies. We’re taking an awful risk here, and I want you to understand this. That’s why I suggested we start using spies and Spectres. This cannot be stated enough, but now that we’re taking the inquisition to the civilised world, it might result in the quieter cultists getting stirred into action. I hope you understand,” the general said softly.
Agatha said nothing back but a mere “Yes, I do.”
It was eerily quiet in the study. Sanctullator felt as if all energy had been sucked out of his body. He had to meditate for a while. “If you don’t mind, I’d like some quiet for myself,” he said, deadpan.
“That’s okay. Good night, general.”
“Good night, my lady.”