Chapter 159:

Anton stood before a massive metal door near the top of the Mist Walkers tower. A stooped elderly Dark Elf stood before the door, his wrinkled face drenched with worry.

“Are you sure about this, Lord Gerin? No human…Or Beast-kin has entered this sacred place in generations, well before the fall of the United Empire.”

“It’s fine.” Gerin glanced at Anton. “After everything they’ve done they’ve more than earned a look.”

Gerin didn’t want to explain that Anton intended to take an artefact, if it existed.

The old man sighed and opened the door, creaking and groaning as the rusted hinges began to move. A wave of stagnant and dusty air wafted out. Small white crystal lights hung from the ceiling, illuminating thirty glass cabinets. Anton immediately recognised the black and purple etchings covering the joins of the glass. Inside, laying on plush fabric were strange items that Anton didn’t understand.

“Please do not touch anything.” The elderly man led them through the chaotically arranged cabinets. “These are some of our most sacred and important relics, some dating back to the founding of The Shadow Isles.”

“Was that when the Dark Elves were a bunch of warring tribes?”

More so than they are now.

“Yes.” The old man frowned. “There are a few artefacts from that time.”

“Could you show them to me?”

He threw Gerin an odd look but led them through the cabinets. Anton saw items that were clearly of some historical significance; broken weapons, amulets, clothes, books and even a wooden crown adorned with black gems. While there were undoubtedly great stories behind each of the artefacts they weren’t what Anton was looking for.

“Do you have something like a long metal and wooden stick?” Aton guessed the size of a bolt action rifle. “About this long, this end is mostly metal and the other wood?”

The old man squinted at Anton. “We…We do have something like that.” He began hobbling towards the rear of the room. “This is something that we’ve had since the very beginning. A very powerful and ancient artefact, rivalling the most powerful magic.”

“Tell me about it.”

The old man appeared genuinely excited. There was probably little chance to talk over such artefacts, only those that would be trained to replace him, not an entirely sobering thought. He stopped before a large cabinet at the far side of the room. Anton’s heart nearly leapt from his chest in excitement. Resting in the cabinet was a rifle, though rusted and damaged from time, it was undeniably a bolt action rifle. The type, make, and model was completely unknown to Anton but that didn’t matter. Verona and Kal smiled at Anton’s obvious joy.

“This is Death Bringer.” The old man smiled at the gun, not truly understanding its significance.

The naming conventions of this place…

“It was able to kill anyone with but a simple pull of this piece of metal.” He pointed to the rusted trigger, the girls looked very closely. “No armour but a suit of Adamantium could stop it.”

“Bosciycium and Chelium?” Verona asked.

“Even those. Though I believe a Chelium plate was heavily damaged.”

“Is this it?” Kal asked Anton.

“Almost. Were there small metal cylinders with this? They were put into this to allow it to function.”

“There were…” The old man pointed to a small box near the end of the barrel. “But we only know of five.”

Indeed, five spent bullet casings lay inside. Though they were used they were more than enough for Anton. Especially with the Dwarves technical and metalworking abilities.

“I take it that once these five were used the…Death Bringer refused to function?”

“Indeed. We could not find any more metal cylinders and were unable to make any more. So the artefact is now inert until we can find more. Thought that has been some time.”

Only five bullets? Oh well, that doesn’t matter I suppose, not really. We can make more.

“This is utterly remarkable.” Anton smiled. “Truly. Just one last question. How did the United Empire not capture this? If I was an invading force I would want to know about such a powerful weapon, even if it doesn’t work anymore.”

“We hid our sacred items from the invaders.” The old man frowned deeply. “Once we were defeated they didn’t care about our history. They considered us weak and incorporated our people into their armies and empire. They just wanted our land and people for their wars.”

“You did an excellent job then.” Anton nodded. “But…I hate to say this, I need this artefact.”

“What?!” The old man nearly exploded with rage. “You think that anyone, let alone a human, would be allowed to touch these sacred relics, let alone take them who knows where?”

“Yes.” Anton looked to Gerin. “We need this. I am willing to disregard any money for our services and settlers from the DuskReavers, if that’s what you wish, to acquire this.”

Gerin sighed. “Is this going to be your last request?”

“Absolutely.”

Gerin sighed again. “Open it and give them the artefact.”

“Are you serious?” The old man huffed, folded his arms and stood in front of the cabinet. “You may be the leader of the armies but you do not have the authority to do this.”

He pointed a finger at Anton. “And don’t think you can just open the chest and take it. It’s protected by extremely powerful magic, ones that you cannot defeat. I will only open this at the Mist Walker Elders request.”

“Then we’ll get it.” Anton turned to Gerin. “I’m sure they’ll cooperate.”

---[]---

Anton stood outside the rudimentary prison in Atros, a roll of paper in one hand and Rasha standing beside him. She wore her armour, her halberd ready to fight, but there was a nervousness to her.

“They still in there?” Anton asked the guards.

“They’ve been very well behaved.” A guard, sitting on a crate next to the door nodded. “Though, though one time they did try and escape.”

“Not too hurt I suppose?”

“Umm…” The guard chuckled. “Not really. But they didn’t try after that.” He smiled and leant forward. “They aren’t exactly the fastest runners.”

“They are very old,” Anton said. “Open it up. I need to speak with them.”

The guard nodded and tapped on the door. A small piece of wood slid away, a pair of eyes peered out. They connected with Anton for a second before the gap closed, the door opened a moment later.

“I’ll need a little bit of time with them.” Anton motioned for Rasha to follow. “So, don’t do anything until we come out.”

“Yes…Yes.” The guard nodded. “I understand.”

“I need you to keep an eye on everyone and your wits about you.” Anton turned to the giant blue Minotaur. “Just in case they try something.”

“I’ll keep you safe, Anton. I’m your second bodyguard after all.” Rasha cracked a smile, though it faded once they entered the prison.

The guards inside left, leaving them alone with the Mist Walker Elders. They no longer had the air of superiority about them. Now they looked nothing more than sad, tired abused old men. Anton took no joy in forcing this upon them.

“Are they treating you well?” Anton asked.

The elders, those that were awake, looked to the leader. He still held an air of superiority though significantly diminished.

“Fuck you!” The elder spat out. “I don’t want to talk with someone that treats elders like this.”

“You have food, water and you’re not being beaten.” Anton looked at the still raw bruises. “Unless you try and escape.”

The Elder huffed and looked away.

Anton sighed and unfurled the paper. “I need you to sign this.”

“Why?”

“Because I told you to.” Anton rolled the paper back up. “And I’ll have Rasha break your arms until you do. I can just heal you over and over and over…”

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Rasha took a deep breath and flexed her free hand.

“So which is it going to be?”

The Elder shook his head.

“Rasha?”

Rasha rested her halberd against the wall and advanced on the elder. He shied away, Rasha was truly a monster in comparison. She lifted the elder by his arm, nothing more than a small twig in her hands.

“Please do as he says,” Rasha said coldly. “I don’t want to do this…” Rasha gripped his arms hard. “But if Anton asks me to I will.”

The Elder shook his head.

“Please?” Anton pleaded. “I don’t want to have to order Rasha to do this. I don’t think I can use Tethra’s magic to force you to write your name on the paper…Actually, I probably can. But since we’re here…will you please?”

“After what you’ve done I-”

Rasha bared her teeth and pulled his arm back hard. Sounds of snapping bone filled the air. The Elder screamed, Rasha dropped him to the ground as he limped back to the others. They winced and shuffled away, curling themselves into balls and whimpering as the Elder’s arm flopped about, limp and bending in ways it never should.

“Pick him back up,” Anton said quietly.

Rasha grunted and lifted him by his good arm. He tried to thrash about but Rasha was simply too strong. Looking at the broken arm, hanging loose and flopping about with his twisting thrashing only made Anton even more glad that Rasha hadn’t attacked him in the bowels of The Snowberry.

Anton healed the Elders arm. It snapped back into position just before he began pounding Rasha’s chest but she ignored it.

“So,” Anton held up the piece of paper. “I’ll ask again. Will you sign this?”

“W-What is it?”

Anton smiled, checking the others weren’t about to try something. “You asked me why, not what. Anyway, it’s so that I can have an artefact of yours. What it is, is relatively unimportant for you in your condition.” Anton held the paper up high. “So will you sign? I’m not asking for the crown or the swords or whatever you have in your treasury. Just one thing, one that doesn’t even work anymore.”

“And you’ll let us go?” The elder appeared hopeful.

“I can’t do that. But I can promise you better conditions and food. Maybe some light.” Anton looked around. “There isn’t much in here, but I’m sure that someone from The Shadow Isles won’t have too much problem with that. So, will you sign?”

“Alright.” The Elder glared at Rasha. “So long as this beast releases me.”

Rasha grunted and dropped him, landing harshly on his rear.

“Don’t call her a beast like she’s some mindless brute.” Anton pushed Rasha’s arm down. He saw her eyebrow twitch, her fist tighten in anger. “She’s a Beast-kin and my friend. So don’t insult her again.”

Anton summoned a small fire bomb to punctuate the point. The Elder glumly nodded and cast his head down.

“Sign it.” Anton held the paper and a small dip pen to the elder.

The elder nodded and took the pen. Anton stepped back, just in case. As he rose up something moved out of the corner of his eye. An elder ran at him, a small blade held tight in their hands. Rasha dove in front, caught and wrapped her much larger hands around theirs, and threw him into the ground. The blade bounced harmlessly across the floor, nothing more than a sliver of metal. Rasha snarled, an enraged bull, and stomped on the Elders’ back. A sickening crack echoed through the air as Rasha stomped on his back over and over.

“I should kill you.” Rasha pulled his arm up hard, breaking what was left of his spine. “You tried to kill the only human that tried to help us, that cared about us. I-”

“Rasha! Stop.” Anton grabbed her hand. She was trembling in rage, her eyes were filled with a fury he had never seen before.

Cetina said that she was losing herself to rage when they sparred…

“Sorry.” Rasha pulled her hoof out the Elder’s back. “I…”

“Just take a deep breath.”

Rasha nodded but her breathing was still very fast, more so than just from the adrenaline.

One of my bodyguards turns to ice when she fights, the other an uncontrollable fiery rage. I really picked both ends of the spectrum here.

“I saw the blade and everything went red.” Rasha shook her hands. “It was like…”

“It’s okay. You did your duty, and very well at that too. I suppose I should heal him. You really did a number on his back.”

Rasha almost smiled. The Elder was barely breathing, foamy blood weakly leaked from his mouth, Rasha’s hoof had crushed the man’s spine, reducing it to nothing more than an inch thick. After a single healing chant their body completely recovered. Rasha picked the man up and threw him into the others, not caring where he landed.

“Where did you get that?” Anton pointed to the small knife. “You must have been very desperate to try and attack me.”

Anton summoned another fireball as the seconds dragged on. “Or do you need to be roasted to be encouraged to talk. I don’t mind either way, I’ve had my fill of stupid shit over the past few days.”

“It…It’s from the dinners.” The Elder held his chest tight, the pain continuing to course through his mind. “They didn’t check one day…”

Anton glanced to the entrance. “Looks like I’ll need to have a talk with them. You could have killed yourself with that blade if you really wanted to…”

Rasha trotted over and retrieved the knife. The man spoke the truth, it was just a normal kitchen knife. There were faint scraps of food coating the edge.

“Thanks, Rasha.”

Anton turned to the first Elder. He had finished signing the document. Though he didn’t understand the signature it was a near identical copy to the writ to give Gerin command of the Dark Elf military. There was one way to make sure it was.

Anton held the Elders head, Rasha moved close and scrunched her fist. He chanted a truth prayer, the signature was true and didn’t hide any hidden meaning or secret plea for help.

“That was smart,” Rasha whispered into his ear. “Otherwise they might try something when you go back.”

Anton smiled and poked Rasha’s nose. She blinked before breaking out into a smile herself.

Anton could barely hold back his delight. “Finally we can make Atros strong. Do you have any idea what this means for the Beast-kin?”

“How does getting an artefact from the Dark Elves help us?” Rasha tilted her head, frowning in deep thought. “I…I don’t understand. Again.”

“Trust me. With this, the Seocurian won’t be able to stop us. No one will.”

“If you say so, Anton.” Rasha chuckled. “I’ll believe you.”

“So what happens now?” The Elder asked. Rasha took back the pen, hidden near his feet. “Are you just going to keep us here for your amusement?”

“Keep well behaved and nothing bad will happen to you.” Anton moved to the door. Rasha took back her halberd. “No more knife tricks. I might not be here to fix it next time.”

Anton opened the door and passed over the small knife to the waiting guards.

“Why…”

“You might want to keep a closer eye on what the prisoners are given. And that they return them all.” Anton nodded towards Rasha. “Something might have happened if it weren’t for her.”

The guards turned very solemn, very nervous. Anton wasn’t that concerned. So long as such a lapse didn’t happen again. If they had some younger prisoners, prisoners that could actually fight…

“Of course, Anton.” The guards retook their positions, some inside the prison.

“What…What was that screaming before?”

“Best you not think about it too much. They’re fine. Well, physically at least.” Anton folded his arms. “I get the feeling that they won’t be a problem for much longer.”

The guards nodded. They didn’t know if that meant death or freedom, but they clearly guessed the former.

“Rasha, could you escort me to the portal? Unfortunately I can’t spend any more time in Atros.”

Rasha nodded and walked beside him. The streets of Atros were continuing to grow ever more rapidly, but underneath the smiling faces, Anton could see that something was wrong.

“Rasha? Is there something happening in Atros that I don’t know about?”

“Not really,” Rasha said softly. “Oh…Did they tell you there was a small Goblin assault the other day?”

“No...” Anton sighed. “I suppose it wasn’t that bad then.”

“I think it was a few hundred, but they didn’t reach the walls.” Rasha pointed her halberd towards the south. “With all the archers and the Dark Elves, they didn’t have much of a chance.”

“The Dark Elves are settling in?”

Rasha looked around. She grumbled lightly, Anton walked into a small alleyway, one safe from prying eyes and ears.

“Their leader, Leran, was speaking with Marion during the battle.” Rasha glanced out and leant very close. “She said she thought he might be planning something. He was asking about how the Beast-kin felt being led by a human. And having Seocurians in Atros too…Marion thought you should know.”

“Marion told you so you’d tell me?”

Rasha nodded. “She said that I’ll see you before her. Oh.” Rasha smiled. “She said it was for Kal, then for you.”

“What a kind woman.” Anton chuckled. “But it wasn’t entirely unexpected. They are pirates after all. And they are still an organised people, rather than a group of former bondsmen and rescued slaves.”

“Slaves that are eternally grateful that you did.” Rasha smiled. “I know that I am.”

“But…Thanks. We’ll need to keep an eye on them. I don’t think they’ll do anything, since we saved them, but you never now. Leran doesn’t know much about Atros, and I doubt he’d do something that would put his people in extreme risk.” Anton smiled. “I suppose that’s why Leran sent the twins to follow me.”

“So they might overhear something important?” Rasha raised a brow before scratching her chin. “Maybe see a different side of people? Or just to secure their position in Atros.”

Anton chuckled. “There might be one quick way to do that. But it won’t work with the Dark Elves.”

Rasha raised a red brow, tilting her head. “What’s that?”

Anton waved her down. “I’ll explain when we’re back properly. But, in the meantime, make sure you keep yourself safe. They know who you are and your proximity to me makes you a target.”

“Proximity?” Rasha mumbled softly, shrugging when she couldn’t understand.

Anton re-joined the street. “Be very careful of everything. Especially going alone somewhere, where you could be jumped on. A small knife can still cut deep.”

Rasha rubbed her neck. “I’ll see if Ulyaa can get me some more silk. See if I can get some sort of scarf.”

“You’re not worried about wearing something that came from Ulyaa?”

“Not at all. Everyone’s fine with it…But they don’t know exactly where it came from. I’m sure once they realise how strong it is they won’t mind.”

Rasha smiled as they walked silently through the streets of Atros.

---[]---

“This is so good.” Anton found himself giggling like a child. In his hands was the rifle, the five spent bullets in the other. Though it was rusted and damaged it was still an excellent find. “I can’t believe I’m actually holding one. Let’s just restore this back to normal.”

Though it took an extreme amount of mana the rifle was completely repaired, restored to a pristine condition; the wood’s discolouration faded, the rust adorning the metal faded away. Now resting in his hand was a perfect weapon from Earth.

“Such a bountiful gift.” Anton laughed again.

“You know that you’re more excited to have this thing then bedding all of us.” Verona pouted. “I can’t believe my husband is more interested in a piece of metal and wood than three beautiful women.”

Kal smiled while Cetina continued to stare at the weapon.

“He wasn’t very happy,” Gerin said softly. “I think he nearly had a heart attack when you showed that piece of paper.”

“I’m sure if we still had that sword it would have smoothed things over.”

When Anton focused he could hear pacing and swearing from the level above, even with the thick stone separating them.

“Well, it’s just one.” Anton sighed. “Though we won’t be able to recreate something like this anytime soon…I don’t know how good the Dwarves are at something so precise.”

“Especially with our tools,” Kal said. “But I’m guessing you’ll buy some from the Dwarven Isles.”

“How far away is Wilford, anyway?” Verona asked.

“I think he’s going around the bottom of the continent.” Anton patted the rifle again. “So it’ll still be a bit.” He looked up at Gerin. “More than enough time to finish off the last of the Goblin infestation.”

Gerin’s body tensed slightly.

“What are you going to do once it’s all over?” Cetina asked. “Are you just going to go back to your island?”

“Will you surrender the power you’ve been given?” Verona asked softly.

Gerin gently nodded. “I shall. But…The Mist Walker Elders cannot return. I sincerely doubt they will just let this humiliation go.”

“No…Not they won’t.” Anton sighed. “A shame…”

An oppressive silence filled the air. No one needed to speak, they all knew the fate of the Mist Walker Elders.