Eric had his swords drawn in a heartbeat and had already taken several steps toward the tavern's front door. Max lifted his crossbow, and Jerik drew one of the daggers at his waist. Even Michael put one hand on the hilt of his sword, ready to draw it in a moment’s notice. But then Eric stopped in his tracks. He stopped so suddenly that Jerik ran into him.

“What?” The newest member of the mercenary group said, holding one hand to his nose. “What the hell are you doing? Aren’t we going in there?”

“I don’t know,” Eric said. He turned to face them, his swords still drawn, but his face troubled. “I’m not sure I can attack the building.”

“Sure you can,” Jerik said shortly. “It’s as easy as going in there and demanding answers.”

“No,” Max said, understanding his leader's struggle. “It’s not. They haven’t actually been publicly acknowledged to have committed a crime, have they?”

Eric thought quickly, biting his lip. Of course, Max was right. For a normal citizen or even a member of the guard, it would be a different story. But Eric was a member of Issho-Ni. There were strict rules in the organization about attacking people. If they weren’t an immediate danger to you or a wanted criminal, you were forbidden from attacking them. With a shake of his head, he slid his blades back into their sheaths.

“We have to remain peaceful,” he said. “At least, we do until they make hostile action first.”

Max slung his light crossbow back on his belt, nodding in understanding. Even Michael understood the rules on the matter and released his grip on the sword hilt. Only Jerik looked irritated at the sudden halt to the action. He’d been prepared to go into the building fighting. It had been a few weeks since their last mission; Eric had been so concerned about his daughter. He craved a new challenge. And now, he was being denied.

“I don’t get the need for undeniable evidence,” he grumbled, his voice so low that only Eric caught what he said. “It’s fucking habeus-corpus all over again. What’s the point?”

Eric frowned at that comment. Something about it was strange. Out of place. But whatever it was, he couldn’t put his finger on it, so he let it go for the moment. There were more important things to focus on just then. He looked at Alice. “I need you to promise not to attack. You’re not one of my unit, but it will be viewed as my fault if you break Shigeru’s Divine Law.”

Alice, though obviously just as mad as Jerik at the thought that she wouldn’t be able to beat someone up, gave a slight shrug. “I know better than anyone not to tempt the anger of a Divine. But the instant he makes a move, I’m killing him.”

Eric supposed he’d have to accept that. He glanced at Michael, received a nod of understanding, and let out a long breath. Out of all of them, Michael was probably the one he had to worry about the least. He was a fan of Issho-Ni and trained there frequently. He wouldn’t break its rules, he was sure. He gave his tunic a tug to readjust it back into place.

“Right then,” he said. “Let’s see what this Infernal is about, shall we?”

Alice shifted out of sight, leaving a disturbed-looking Megan in her place. She picked at the sleeve of her blue robe, fingering one of the blue gems that were stitched into the fabric. “Lead the way.”

Eric pushed on the door as if testing to see if it were locked. It swung open with ease, not even groaning with the sound of rusty hinges. It was clearly maintained. The interior looked perfectly normal, just as he’d expect of a tavern. Open, clean, and with a handful of small worn tables scattered around the room. Three other patrons were already inside clustered around a single table by the door. Eric gave them a curt but friendly nod as he led the others inside.

The tavern master, the one that Megan was staring at so intently, stood behind a dark wood counter, his hands full of a mug and a clean white cloth. He smiled warmly at them as they entered, looking genuinely pleased to see them. “Welcome to the Laughing Lich! What will you have, sirs and madam?”

“Answers,” Jerik said brusquely, plopping himself down on one of the wooden stools that were ranged across the outside of the bar. “And brandy, if you have it.”

“Brandy?” The tavern keeper said, frowning in confusion. “I can’t say I’ve heard of this drink before. Is it a foreign product?”

Again, Eric felt something move in the back of his mind as if something about this situation was out of place. But he pushed it down again. “Apologies, mister…”

“Selvik,” the barkeeper said, bobbing his head in welcome. “My name is Selvik if it pleases.”

“Ah,” Eric said delicately. The man was remarkably kind for someone who was toting around an Infernal. “Selvik, then. We’re here on the order of Her Majesty Elena Ciayol, Empress of Tyrman.”

“Oh, is that where we are now?” The man asked as if he really didn’t know where he’d built his tavern. “Lovely country, I must say. Will you be wanting anything to drink, then?”

Eric was only further thrown by the man’s hospitality. “Uhh, sure. I’ll have coffee if you have it.”

In seconds, there was a cup of steaming black coffee before him. He opened his mouth to ask for milk and sugar, but small saucers of both were in front of him before he could. When he looked up at the man, confused, he saw a smile on the barkeep’s face.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“You have that look about you,” he said. “I could tell. Anything for you four? I apologize; I don’t know of or have this brandy you speak of.’

“Do you have whiskey?” Jerik asked. “That’s a universal drink, surely.”

“A wide variety, sir,” he said. “I wager you’re a scotch fan?”

Jerik looked impressed in spite of himself. “You’ve got a keen eye.”

“It is my trade.” The barkeep presented a glass of amber liquid with just one chunk of ice. Megan and Michael refused a drink, and Max asked for Attosian Ale. Once they were finished with the introduction, Eric pulled a gold coin out of his purse and slapped it down on the bar top. As he saw it, the man stopped in his tracks, his eyebrows raised.

“Twelve copper for the drinks is all, sir,” he said. “Gold is far too much.”

“It’s to ensure you hang about for a second,” Eric said. His voice was deadly serious, and Selvik could read his tone for what it was. With a gracious nod, he returned to stand before him.

“This is the second time today that I’ve heard the mention of your organization’s name,” Eric said. “The first was from Lord Samuel Bragg. I’m sure you know the name, even if you’re not from here.”

Selvik nodded to indicate that he did, and he continued. “Well. Some troubling news has reached them in the capital, and I’m one of many people sent out to investigate. So tell me, Selvik. Are you and the organization you serve planning to do anything with your recent, err, acquisition?”

“Our acquisition, sir? I must admit, I do not know what you speak of. Has Umbric done something to offend Lord Bragg?”

Umbric? Eric didn’t know the name. But at the mention of it, Megan gave a shudder. Clearly Alice-inspired, he thought. “Umbric? That’s who you’ve bonded with?”

“Indeed,” Selvik replied smoothly. “Do you know him? Or rather, I should ask, does your Infernal know him?”

In the blink of an eye, Alice was there. “Oh, I know him. Everyone does. Slimy, sneaky bastard he is. So he made it into the material plane. I wondered what had become of him.”

Now, this was an interesting development. As if he’d been waiting for Alice to show herself, Selvik also transformed, switching places with his Infernal counterpart even faster than Megan had. Gone was the short, unassuming, and friendly human. A tall, lean Infernal stood before them. His skin was pale like Alice’s, but he had a livid red mark over his right eye. It was too unique to be a scar. It looked red and angry, like a burn pattern. A brand?

“Good to see you again, Alice,” Umbric said. “Tell me, how did Jiorda manage to send her youngest brat across the seal?”

“I wasn’t sent anywhere, worm,” Alice growled. “What are you doing here?”

“I imagine very much the same as you,” Umbric replied. He folded his hands into the wide sleeves of his robes, staring at her with disdain that was a glaring opposite to Selvik’s kindly smile. “I wanted out of the Planes, so I snuck in. This man was nearly dead and gladly accepted my aid. Now I live here, as we did in the old days.”

The old days, Eric thought. Before the war, when Grimr had dispersed the Enari and the Infernals to their own planes of existence. Beings of chaos, they could never have been allowed to exist on the same plane as the mortal races. Was this another thing to concern the God of Nature, that so many of his prisoners were finding a way to come back?

“That’s enough of that,” he said. His voice was firm enough to silence both Infernals. “Umbric is your name, right? What have you done with Menikos’ body?”

He heard a quiet gasp of recognition from Alice and knew that Megan also understood. They were both familiar with the old tale of Samuel’s success in killing another Ancient. “We know that his body was taken from the ritual ground. Do you possess it?”

Umbric paused for a suspiciously long moment before replying. “I do not.”

“Do you know who does?” Eric asked immediately, giving the Infernal no time to consider a safe reply. “We know it was your organization that took it.”

This time, the Infernal answered immediately. “I do not know who possesses the corpse. After it was removed, I know not who has it.”

“Do you know what is happening with it?”

“I believe the plan is to reunite Menikos with his soul,” Umbric answered after another lengthy pause. “If you know of the event, then you know that the body by itself is useless.”

Which was true, according to what little Grimr and Samuel had shared with him. As long as it was just the body, the action of stealing it was just an atrocity. Sure, it had the powers of an Ancient locked inside its flesh, but that magic was unique to the one that it was made for. No matter how gifted, a mage couldn’t steal, repurpose, or copy that magic. This meant that Menikos couldn’t be revived and made into a tool as long as the soul was safe. Samuel guarded that piece and wouldn’t so easily be defeated. He supposed there was at least some small comfort in that.

“All the same,” he said. He pushed himself off of the stool and put one hand on the hilt of his left sword. “Umbric the Infernal, and Selvik, you are both under arrest. I will be taking you back to Milagre to face the Queen’s justice and to answer to the crime of trespassing on consecrated ground.”

He wasn’t sure if that was actually a crime as far as the kingdom was concerned, but he wagered that nobody else would know for sure, either. He made a beckoning gesture. “You’re coming with us.”

“I’m afraid not,” the Infernal said. “You see, I’ve struck a bargain, and I have yet to fulfill my end of it. I will answer to my actions one day, but that day is not today.”

With the sound of splintering wood, the floor to his right burst into hundreds of little pieces, revealing a cavity beneath. From that cavity was emerging a person holding his hands aloft. No. Not a person, he thought. A corpse. By some kind of horrible cosmic sense, he knew who this corpse belonged to. But before he could move to strike it, run, or even utter a single word, the corpse made a swiping motion with his hand. A raspy, guttural voice emanated from the immaculately preserved mouth.

“Palayasin!”

In the blink of an eye, he was somewhere else. He’d appeared in the middle of a packed street, but he’d also been shoved, so he landed prone on the edge. The sound of a startled horse sounded loud in his ears, and he rolled to the side, just barely avoiding being crushed by a wagon wheel. He whirled on the spot, looking around to try and figure out what had happened. He knew the sound of the Ancient tongue from his time knowing Samuel. He even recognized the word ‘banish’.

“Necromancy!” He exclaimed as the full understanding of the situation struck him. The Infernal was practicing necromancy! It was a forbidden art, of course. Bora Bora saw to that. Pissing off two gods, he thought. Not a wise move. Definitely not wise. He glanced around again, trying to figure out where he’d been sent to. It didn’t take him long to figure it out, given that everyone around him was speaking a language that sounded eerily familiar to German.

“Well,” he said, letting out a long sigh. “I did eventually want to visit Welsik.”