“What kind of mission?” Mahon asked.

“Oh, slow down, boy. We’ll still need to test your motivations and mind. You’re a good fighter, that’s for sure. But why do you want to help us?”

Belanor leaned forward and fixed Mahon with an intense gaze. A few seconds passed in silence, and Mahon started to feel uncomfortable.

Does he have a doubt?

“Eh! Don’t worry, it should be fine. There is no need to test your fighting ability further, so you can directly go with Maïa.” He pointed to the veiled lady, standing silently on the side.

“Belanor.” The woman threatened.

“What? I’m sure you’ll recruit him, anyway. He can know your name.”

The woman realized the feat of throwing him an annoyed look while her face was hidden behind her veil. Mahon had no idea how she managed to express that just with body posture, but the result was unmistakable.

She then gestured for Mahon to follow her and moved to another part of the basement, away from the loud battle still unfolding between the other candidates. She took two chairs on the way and placed them one in front of the other. With her head, she indicated that Mahon should sit while she took the other chair for herself.

The two were barely half a meter apart, and if Mahon wanted to stretch his legs, he would touch Maïa's own legs. Not sure how he felt about it or even how he should feel about it as a Fada cultist, Mahon remained with his usual stoic face.

Fighting was easy for him. Interacting with people, on the other hand, had not always been a success. Even in Nightmare, where he spent most of his life, it had always been hard. For long, he had had only one kind of relationship, in which he was the commander and gave orders to soldiers.

There had been a time before that, where he had believed in friends and bonds. The backlash of such a mindset while fighting a one sided war had been his worst life lesson. Isolating oneself from others was the only viable option when every new friend you made got slaughtered within weeks. Margot almost made him change his mind. Almost.

Mahon now realized it had just been because they had started to come back in the war and reduce their losses. They had managed to win more often, and a strong core of people survived long enough to bond. He had inevitably been drawn to this group. Alas, it had just been another illusion. As the Amentiae general had proven, once the enemy was strong enough, it started all over again.

And then he went to Ratho. He met Zac. Sometimes, the noble reminded him of Margot. The same cheerfulness. The same dreams. If Mahon and Margot had left Nightmare together, would Mahon have evolved the way he did? The noble had tamed Mahon even quicker than Margot. He had given back the Last Red his smile, laugh and happiness. He had lured him into the trap of friendship within months, where Margot had needed years.

Had Mahon turned soft, or was it because he met Zac in Ratho and not in Nightmare? He had only seen a few handful men dying in the last months. There was supposed to be a war in Ratho, but Mahon had never caught a shadow of it. Life was peaceful there. Enjoyable.

Mahon had come to Ratho believing people lived harassed every day by the presence of the Amentiae. And yet he hadn’t seen one in months. Nobles didn’t mention them nor did the commoners. They talked about the war, and how to contribute to its balance, but they never spoke about Amentiae, massacre or heroic feats.

The word ‘war’ was heard daily, and yet people talked about it as they would about the weather. As if they had nothing to do with it. As if it was outside of their control. Plant crops before it rains. Dry your clothes when the sun is at its zenith. Forge weapons for the war.

There was nothing about troop movements, warriors coming back to testify, or information about how close the Amentiae truly were. It was as if the war wasn’t theirs. It was just another kind of landlord they should pay taxes to. Ratho and Nightmare had both a war, but Nightmare had been a horror, whereas living in Ratho was peaceful.

Mahon had patrolled for hours without meeting a single foe. He had danced with a random girl instead of dancing with death. He had played music in front of hundreds of people. Flowing not to kill, but to please them. He had cried not because of the loss of a friend, but because of his jokes.

Margot would’ve been proud of me. Making new friends so fast. Being… happy.

The war wasn’t the one he had imagined. Ratho was not the world he had imagined. Maybe the war was just another invention of the nobles to stay in control. Maybe it had been over for decades, but they pretended it still existed to keep the money flowing. It was too mysterious. Too strange. And yet he seemed to be the only one to feel so.

Was that all there was to Ratho? Petty nobles plotting against each other, thirsty for more power? The only other threat had been the Fada cultists, and yet even the nobles believed it was their own doing in the shadows. The next invention of their hidden schemes.

Was that what Mahon planned to fight for? To strive for?

Fada, no.

“What are you thinking about?”

The veiled woman finally asked, and Mahon immediately jolted to reality.

“I’m sorry. I got lost in my thoughts. I believed you’d ask a question and then fazed out when you didn’t.”

“But I did.” The woman answered. “What are you thinking about?”

Mahon threw a strange look at the woman, but answered nonetheless. “Nobles. And the war.”

The woman nodded, as if it was perfectly normal given the circumstances. “And what does it mean for you?”

Mahon realized with horror that what he had thought was close to what the cult preached, minus the religious part. They didn’t trust nobles and wanted to disrupt or end the war, and so did he. But he wanted nothing to do with the murderous cult. Especially since they were probably just another pawn of the noble families.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

While his previous thoughts swirled in his head, Mahon wasn’t sure what to think for himself, but he knew better than to screw his job.

“We don’t know what is true and what is wrong. The nobles control the information. Does the war even exist? Is it truly a war? Why are we letting them do what they want of Ratho? I had a clear purpose in Nightmare because I saw my comrades fall by the hundreds. But I’ve seen nothing like that in Ratho. I don’t know what I’m fighting for. Or why.”

The best lies were those that intertwined with truth. And the truth was that Mahon felt strangely lost. He didn’t sense it before, but now that he was in front of the mysterious veiled lady, he was starting to question his previous choices. Does Ratho need to be saved from the war? Or was it how he had coped with the loss of Margot, as the Blue counselor had warned him?

In front of him, the woman slightly tilted her head on the side in a weird, inquisitive way.

“Why are you here?”

Memories flashed in front of Mahon. Margot’s death. The green scales on his arms and legs. His return to Ratho. His silent rage at his loss, and his will to end the war. His discussion with Nimeroni, and then the Blue counselor. Both advising him to change his mind. Zac. Slander. Yordar. Elmer. Rym. Jorik. Tiarsus. Ash. Belanor. Why was he even here?

Was he spying on the cult like he should? Or was he trying to find a purpose to his life?

“I… I’m…”

“Yes?”

Mahon almost spilled it. That he was there to destroy them. Or was it to help them?

“I don’t know.” He finally said. “About the war and… else. But I know I don’t like the leading nobles. And I want to know what is really happening in Ratho. With the war. With Nightmare.” He paused just a second before adding. “With the Fada.”

“Is unraveling the veil of mystery your true purpose?”

“Yes.” The answer came immediately. He could feel it was true. Unravel the mysteries around Nightmare and the way he killed the Amentiae general. The mysteries around the Amentiae war and the Fada. The mysteries that made him both crave and repel deep relationships. Even the mysteries around the cult and their backers.

If there was one thing he was certain of, it’s that he wanted to know the truth.

The veiled woman relaxed slightly in her seat. She threw a last look at Mahon before standing up.

“Good. You did good. You pass the test.”

Mahon was surprised at first. “What? Just like that? A few questions and we’re done?”

“Would you prefer an endless interrogation?” The woman teased.

“No, no!”

Mahon wanted to punch himself. Why did he have to ask such a stupid question? He had passed the test already.

The woman chuckled. “Don’t worry, my questions were not so innocent. I have my… ways. And I know you’re telling the truth. That’s enough for us.” She gestured for Mahon to stay seated. “You should take some rest while I’ll check with Belanor if there are other promising candidates. We’ll come back to you soon.”

She left him there without another word. Once gone, Mahon felt a slight headache coming. Replaying the scene in his mind, he realized the woman did something to him. It wasn’t like him to lose focus like that during a dangerous mission. For an instant, he had felt like he hadn’t played a role, and that he had answered by himself. His true self.

Mahon would never have dared to do so in this situation where spilling the truth was akin to a death wish. He wasn’t feeling the best about the cult and Ratho, but it wasn’t so lost as to say what he had said to the woman. She must have done something to him.

Chasing the strange feeling, he observed Maïa as she slowly walked to Belanor and murmured something in his ear. The old veteran turned to Mahon and showed him a thumbs up before focusing back on the other candidates.

Who is she? Can she force me to think about specific things? To tell the truth?

Mahon tried to decipher yet another mystery, and he watched the next steps of the recruitment with interested eyes. A few minutes later, Belanor picked another man from the candidates and entrusted him to the veiled lady.

The same scene Mahon experienced just moments before played right in front of him. Maïa chose another quiet area, far enough that Mahon couldn’t hear anything. The veiled lady placed the two chairs close to each other. The two people sat and entered a long minute of silence. From his own seat, Mahon could see the woman’s unwavering attitude towards the man. She fixed him intently.

After a minute, he could see her lips moving and guessed it was the same question she had asked him. The scene continued to play exactly like Mahon had experienced it. He witnessed again the slight relaxation of the woman at the end of the interview. As if all her muscles had been very tense just before.

She rose and went back to Belanor, again murmuring something in his ear. The second candidate had been left on his chair, exactly like Mahon. Except the man seemed to be very tired, and his head hung loosely on a side, as if he was asleep.

No doubt she’s doing something. To weaken us, maybe? Is it magic?

Yordar had mentioned the main magic fields in one of his first lessons, but he had also said there was more to magic than just earth and time. Zac had confirmed some secret groups dealt with weird forms of magic. One of the highest noble families was supposed to have such an ability. Was the lady part of such a group? Was she noble? Or was it just the way she talked and some form of hypnosis?

It was hard to tell, but Mahon realized how lucky he had been to be a real Nightmare warrior. And that he despised the high noble families. In other circumstances, he may even believe in the Fada cultist’s cause. If they hadn’t killed innocent citizens without a care.

If any other person than Mahon had tried to infiltrate the cult, they would have been caught in this very step. And with Belanor nearby, they would have been dealt with easily. Even Jorik, assumingly one of the best at school, wouldn’t be able to take care of the old veteran. Unless he knew how to Flow, but Mahon wasn’t aware of it, if that was the case.

On the other hand, since Mahon had passed the test, he was free of any suspicion now. He witnessed how candidates after candidates were picked by Belanor and tested by the veiled lady. She would come back to the veteran every time to tell him the result of her investigation.

Like that, the duo selected fourteen candidates. The disappointment was high in the remaining twenty candidates, but they were sent back all the same by the veiled lady. While she did so, Belanor walked to the classroom part of the basement and gestured for the selected candidates to move closer to him.

The fourteen men and women obeyed, and soon they formed a little semicircle in front of him. The man looked at them one by one, seemingly satisfied by his choices.

“Congratulations to you all. You’ve passed the test. It was not an easy one, nor a pleasant one for some.” He eyed one of the women still fighting the aftermath of the interrogation with difficulty. “You may have realized there are fourteen of you when we only promised twelve spots.”

The tension stepped up a notch with his declaration, and everyone subconsciously leaned a bit forward to make sure to catch what he would say next. Mahon already knew what the man would say, though. He had revealed it at the end of their fight.

“We’ve a final test for you. Three days from now, I’ll take you into a secret operation. The kind of operation where you risk your life. The kind of operation we, inner cultists, do. You’ll need to be ready to fight, run and make instant decisions that may get you, or one of your comrades, killed.”

The mood was serious and everyone nodded to show they knew what Belanor expected of them.

“It’s not an exercise. It’s your first mission. Some of you may die doing it. Others may be sent back to classic recruitment processes. You’re fourteen because we don’t expect to make it back with more than twelve of you. Are you still ready to give your life for our cause?”

“YES!” The little group screamed their willingness and enthusiasm at Belanor’s face, while the old veteran smiled crazily.