Idrel
The clopping hoofs of the horses pulling the carriage were the only sounds coming from outside it and even that was muffled. This way, Idrel could ‘interrogate’ his captive in peace — even though he didn’t have the necessary ‘tools’ for it. What a shame. He would have loved to peel off a few fingernails and toenails, maybe the runt would sing to his tune then.
Idrel looked at the mess he had caused on the floor of the carriage they were riding in. Rihal’s disciple was a lot tougher than he gave him credit for. But he was still going to get what he wanted.
“You know you’re never getting out of this, right?” he said, smiling at the swollen face of the runt in front of him. “Right now we are strolling around Farryn, trying to spread your aura everywhere. If I’m correct, Rihal will exhaust himself trying to find you by himself, instead of following the normal channels.
“He’s emotional that way, you see? Never one to lead with his head. I quite like him that way though. Makes him easy to predict and all that.”
He sat down in the opposite cushion chair to keep away from the blood dripping on the floor and the opposite seat. “Soon, we’d leave the city. I just have to decide which slavers I’d sell you to. You may think living in the slum was bad.” He chuckled darkly. “You are about to find out you’ve been living like royalty.”
The whelp barked a laugh, wincing in pain a moment after. “And they said Vorthe didn’t participate in slave trade.”
With a flick of a finger, he sent a blade of pure essence, cutting deep into the boy’s skin. “Your torture will only continue. You can save yourself all the trouble and tell me what I want to know. Besides Kilian, who else does Rihal talk to? How did he get you on the list for the adventure?”
The whelp had the audacity to laugh again. Seriously, it was beginning to grate on his nerves.
“I bet you thought this was just going to be a simple interrogation. You’d get what you want and get rid of me before anyone knows it.” Idrel watched the boy pause for effect and lean forward. “Tell me, how does it feel to not be in control? I smell it on you; the need for control.” He grinned with his blood-stained teeth.
Idrel burned with fury where he sat. With just a few words, the boy had stated what he wanted the most — control, and made him lose control over his own emotions. He wanted to lash out but held himself back, taking a deep breath to cycle and calm his nerves.
“Selling you into slavery wouldn’t be pleasing enough,” he said looking pointedly at the whelp. “Selling you to Hedon Alvric, however.” Idrel smiled, seeing the slight tensing of his captives shoulders. “Now that would be satisfying.”
He clapped his hand and sat up with the exuberance of a child while still oozing the menace of a Spirit Realm expert. “It’s settled then. To the Alvric estate!”
~~~
Rihal
“You say he was in here last night,” Rihal said, taking a meditative posture. “If he never left, it must mean someone came to take him.” He shut his eyes to center himself for what he was about to do.
“It would appear so, Rihal,” Kilian said beside him. “Take your time. No one would disturb you till you’re done.”
“I just hope this doesn’t take too much time,” he said before taking a deep breath.
What he was about to do was very tasking on a Spirit Realm artist. If this wasn’t Jerome he was looking for, he’d search through the normal secret networks of the Nediti. He couldn’t expose Jerome’s importance as it were.
A maid had been sent to wait on them. She quickly served them tea and pastries before moving to stand outside the door — a silent way of communicating to anyone nearby that they were not to be disturbed.
With a deep breath in and an exhale, he closed his eyes and sent his aura to encompass the whole room to begin searching for remnants of another’s aura. Everyone had an aura, even non-sacred artists. But only sacred artists were capable of honing their senses to pinpoint remnants of another’s aura. If there was someone in Jerome’s room the night before, this was the fastest way to find them.
The outside world quickly receded from him; every sound, smell, and emotion faded. To successfully do this he had to be empty; to take on himself the ‘self’ of another. In this state he had no concept of time, day, or night. All that existed was just a void, a black canvas on which the auras of the world around his physical body could tell their story.
Jerome’s aura was the first his senses picked up. He couldn’t see it but he felt the energy it gave off. It was bold and hungry; an hunger that transcended the need for food. No. It was a hunger for power. That hunger was most dominant in Jerome’s aura. The intent behind it, though, calmed Rihal’s heart.
Jerome missed his family. He longed to go searching for them. It was a yearning that was constantly with him. There was anger and pain in there too. He was filled with regret and hatred for Hedon Alvric. His anger was a righteous one; burning bright yet couldn’t quite win against his hunger for power.
Soon colors bloomed in his mind’s eye and a new aura made itself known, hiding behind something. He couldn’t quite place it. It gave him the feeling that the person used an artifact to hide their aura when he came for Jerome; an artifact he well knew.
The colors took shape in his mind and a blurry blue-colored form of Jerome was hefted off his feet and slammed into the wall behind him. His assailant felt like a part of the world — like a part of the void. There was no shape, color, or intent his senses could lash unto. The elusive aura picked Jerome up and vanished on the spot.
Rihal replayed the scene again and again, trying as best he could to pinpoint something about the attacker. Nothing. He opened his eyes and the sounds and smells of the world came crashing in. Fatigue overtook him and he almost fell flat on his face.
“Whoever took him…” He inhaled deeply to catch his breath.
“Slow down, Rihal. Just relax and regain your strength.” Kilian was there holding him up.
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Rihal reached out to his master through his communication’s rune but the Master of Shadows didn’t respond.
“We need to get to my master,” he said, trying to stand up and failing. He had used up a lot of essence and depleted his mental energy just to remain in that state. “Whoever took him is part of the Nediti, Kilian.”
Kilian paused, shock taking him over. “Well, that’s…” he had no words.
Rihal understood his confusion. Who would target another’s disciple? The Nediti didn’t get into other people’s business. But one person came to mind. Rihal’s brows creased as the feeling in his gut increased.
“You know who it is, don’t you?” Kilian asked, seeing the look on his face.
“I have a suspect,” Rihal said, standing up on his feet. “If it turns out to be him, I’d make sure he pays.”
Just then his communication’s rune glowed at the back of his hand and he scanned it to find a message from his master, Damien Vorthe.
“This is a good challenge for you, Rihal. Solve it yourself.”
Rihal cursed.
~~~
City of Alvion. Southern Region of Vorthe.
Grog
These Vortheans were soft and easy to rend apart. He loved to watch the light in their eyes go out as he ripped out their hearts. The woman in his arms a few moments ago lay lifeless in the corner as he devoured her heart, enjoying the vitality of her blood as it coursed through his veins.
Grog felt invincible. This place, this… city. It was a blood farm for him. He laughed out loud and his voice echoed in the alley. Someone from an apartment above him shouted for him to keep it down but he ignored them. He moved his feet and felt blood underneath his heavy boots, squelching as he moved. It filled him with euphoria.
The woman whose blood essence he’d consumed through her heart, lay in a pool of her own blood. Grog reached for her clothes and wiped the blood off his hands.
“I hope Lokta is doing fine,” he muttered.
His son should not have stepped foot out of the Archipelago. But he was Sprout already, and wanted to prove himself. Their blood called for carnage and there was only so much of that on a little island. He’d just have to find time to ‘watch’ him truly become a man. He touched the bone crown on his head and smiled.
The Amarkh had been a tremendous help in keeping track of his son and seeing him conquer. Maybe he could find a worthy challenger. But Grogg doubted it. All the sacred artists he had seen so far were weak — with the exception of the damned, politicking Alvric.
He just needed to get the claw bone to the golden city. He patted his storage bag, as if to confirm it was still tied to his belt.
“What was it called again?” He had heard some of the locals here call it the City of Farryn; the city painted in gold. All year round, its people fatten themselves up with the flesh of numerous magical beasts.
Alas, it would be their undoing.
“Farryn, eh?” He took out the claw bone from his storage bag. “Let’s see how much damage you can do.”
The claw bone was easily three feet long and as thicker than an adult’s fist on the other end opposite the pointy tip. It belonged to an extinct mythical creature, and it was capable of shrouding his presence. It was capable of so much more but he was incapable of awakening those powers of the claw.
He’d caused no small amount of trouble for Vorthe’s spies with it. He had just one job; take their eyes off Alvric men until they got to the north. But he was also going north. The leader of his tribe wasn’t dumb enough to not see an opportunity in Alvric’s action.
They were planning something. Something big, and by Orka’s tits, he’d find out what it was and use it to the advantage of his people. He just hoped his son wouldn’t get caught in the crossfire when damnation broke loose.
He felt his heart beat faster for a moment, and fatigue washed over him. Grog nearly stumbled. The claw was taking its due. It was not his to wield and it siphoned his life force even from inside his storage bag. He had to keep killing so as to maintain his own vitality.
He had to leave this city and continue his journey North. He only needed to find a few more victims.
“Orka’s tits, that hurt!” he groaned. He used the wall of the building he was walking near to hold himself up and leave the alley. Duty called and he was bound to answer.
~~~
Idrel
“What do fuck are you doing here, Rihal?!” he snarled. He had received a tip from the librarian that Rihal had rushed out of Kilian’s palace after spending about a quarter of the morning in his captives room. He’d had to leave the whelp behind inside the carriage so as not to spark suspicion. But he couldn’t keep this up. There were only so many times he could use the void bridge in a day.
Rihal’s gaze never wavered from his face. He said nothing, so the silence stretched for a bit.
“Wouldn’t you invite me in, Idrel?”
“No. You made it clear that you’re unwilling to help me. So you’re not welcome.”
“Help you?” Rihal turned to pace the entrance of his manor like he owned the place. “And what might you have needed help with?”
He scoffed, and folded his arms. “If I remember correctly, your disciple was put on the list of those going to Terra Praeta.”
“And this concerns you how, Idrel? From my knowledge you have no disciple of your own—”
“We’re done, Rihal.”
“So, you could do what?” Rihal grinned at him. “Go play your filthy messed up games with my disciple. I know you took him, Idrel.”
Idrel arched his brow, unsure how to answer. He would have thought Rihal would be devastated for losing his disciple. But it seems the whelp was no good to him. This was good news. He schooled his features before answering.
“Oh, you lost him. I wonder why that is? And do you have proof I have him, Rihal?”
Rihal’s grin faltered a bit.
“Now, there’s the Rihal I know,” Idrel said with a proud smirk. “Without proof that I have him you have nothing against me — not that I have him anyway.”
Rihal smiled again. “Soon, Idrel… soon.”
Idrel slammed his door in Rihal’s face, which he had to admit, felt damned good. He quickly vanished on the spot, appearing inside the carriage he left his captive in. He wasn’t worried the whelp would try to escape — he couldn’t. But he was worried now that Rihal was onto him. Maybe the Alvric Estate was not the best place to go right now. The City of Farryn was under Vorthe’s total control after all, and they saw a lot more than they made the Great Houses believe.
As he arrived he sent a strand of his mental energy to the driver of the carriage, instructing him to drive outside the city. Something was wrong however. His captive was sitting where he left him but he was healing rapidly, with a speed unheard of for a Sprout — a Sprout whose core was sealed for that matter. It was then he noticed the dense vitality in the air and the crowd of excited people surrounding the carriage.
“What the fuck?!” he turned his frustration inward and pushed his mental energy a little more than necessary towards the driver. “Get us out of here!”
The carriage driver nearly collapsed in his seat, he picked up the reins and urged the horses forward. Idrel pushed his mental energy, causing it to pulse outward from him, pushing the people surrounding the carriage away. He scanned the outside of the carriage only for his jaw to slack and his brows to rise in shock.
A green and gold storm of vital aura and essence was spinning around the carriage rising into the air like a beacon. A beacon that would attract guards and most definitely other members of the Nediti.
“Fuck!” he took his captive by the shoulder and vanished with him on the spot.