Sarah felt a sense of trepidation as their two carriages pulled up to the palace gates. The lead driver spoke with the guards briefly before the gates were pulled open and they rolled in.

The carriages trundled through the grounds and Sarah risked pulling the curtains aside and looked with wonder at the immaculately manicured lawns. It was late autumn, and most of the trees were bare, but the shrubs and grass were still green and lush.

“I do apologize, but we have been instructed to take you to the servant’s entrance,” the driver said through a small slot, “I’ve been made to understand that discretion is key in delivering you to see His Lordship.”

The driver slid the slot closed without waiting for a reply. They took a small dirt road that skirted the impressive looking mansion before coming to a halt at the rear entrance. A man wearing a white vest and gloves opened the door while another identically dressed man placed stairs beneath the door so that they could descend gracefully.

John exited first and helped Sarah down. They both looked warily at the six armed guards who were wearing steel cuirasses under blue cloaks who stared back at them impassively.

Laughter from the other carriage cut through the tension as Udoriol exited the carriage he had shared with Hicham with his arm around the young man’s shoulder. Judging from the redness on the dark skinned youth’s face, the elf was probably recalling yet another of the Chosen’s embarrassing childhood memories.

“Hicham Ouali,” called an authoritative voice.

Udoriol stopped mid-sentence and looked up at the man who was standing at the servant’s door. He looked to be in his fifties and sported a rich, thick beard. His muscles were well set off by his tailored silk shirt, and the hilt of the sword at his hip sported a large ruby as the centrepiece of the intricate gold filagree work.

“Marquis Kurt,” Hicham said, bowing low, “thank you for seeing me on such short notice and acquiescing to my outrageous demands.”

Kurt arched a bushy steel grey eyebrow. “Outrageous is putting it lightly. Then again, one does not often have the honour of having Treto’s Chosen in his debt.”

He turned his piercing grey eyes on Udoriol. “And I suppose you must be Udoriol the Excommunicated.”

“I am, Your Lordship,” the elf said, bowing extravagantly.

“Most of the city is looking for you at the behest of the Church, and now here you are, smuggled into my home at the request of their figurehead,” Kurt smirked and eyed each of the others briefly. “Come on, let’s talk inside, away from prying eyes.”

The Marquis’ back was ramrod straight as he led them through his lavishly furnished home and into a well-appointed study. He sat behind a large desk and gestured for the others to sit across from him.

“Drinks?” he offered.

“If you have any Daleside wines,” Udoriol said, “I would love a glass.”

“An ale. Summerbee’s if you have it, please,” Grimald added.

John, Sarah and Hicham declined, and the uniformed butler left to fetch the drinks.

“So, what urgent news do you have for me?” Kurt asked as he studied each of his guests in turn.

Grimald looked to Udoriol who shrugged and gestured at the Marquis with his hand. The dwarf pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Well, Your Lordship, we think that the followers of Ratri at the gates of the city plan to bring about the Night Goddess’ Chosen.”

Kurt raised an eyebrow. “And this is an issue for us, how?”

“Well, the orcs outside seem to think that all this will help them regain their lost lands,” Grimald pointed out.

“But all you have is speculation?” Kurt asked as his eyes bored into the dwarf.

“We questioned one of Her servants in a ring of truth two days ago,” Grimald said, “She said that those were their goals.”

Kurt’s eyes widened. “And where is this servant now?”

“I’m afraid she escaped.”

A heavy silence hung in the room as Kurt tapped his finger on the desk. The butler returned and served the drinks. Once he had excused himself, Kurt asked, “And what do you want from me?”

“We’d like your help to scour the city for clues,” Grimald replied, “We need to find out just how these Ratri worshippers are planning to bring about their Chosen.”

Kurt shook his head. “I’m afraid every single one of those wretched priests vanished after the sewer collapsed.”

“Besides,” he continued, “I’ve heard that the Four Kings have finally raised an army and it is on its way as we speak. They’ll sort this sordid business out one way or another.”

Grimald and Udoriol exchanged looks and the Marquis got to his feet. “Well, if that is all you wanted to say, I’ll be excusing myself. I’ve had to dismiss every Treto worshipper in my household for the day on account of our special guest and as a result, we are desperately understaffed, and my schedule is packed to the gills.”

He paused and looked at Udoriol. “I’ll thank you to leave my city discretely. There’s enough trouble here as it is without the circus you and the Church are sure to bring.”

The elf smiled sweetly. “Believe me, Your Lordship, no one is more invested in me not getting caught than I.”

Kurt nodded and continued towards the door.

“Thank you for your time,” Hicham said, nearly tipping his chair over in his haste to get to his feet.

The others did the same and Sarah couldn’t help but feel the meeting had ended anticlimactically. She had expected more of a resolution.

Once the Marquis left, the butler reappeared at the door. “If you would follow me, please.”

To their surprise, the butler didn’t lead them back to the servant’s entrance, but instead to a large, windowless library.

“Why are we here?” Grimald asked as he reached for his axe.

“I was told to bring you here,” the butler replied.

“By who?” Hicham demanded.

“Me.” A chill went down Sarah’s spine as a silky voice came from one of the high backed chairs facing away from the door.

There was a click from behind them as the door closed and in the corner of her eye, Sarah noted that the butler had joined them inside. He hadn’t noticed much of him before. He was a slight, bespectacled man sporting short hair and a tidy moustache and now, he watched them impassively.

“You,” Udoriol snarled, drawing his sword.

“Do you know this person, Master?” Hicham asked as he did the same.

In a single, liquid motion, a woman with long hair rose from the chair and walked around it so that she was facing them. Viorica smiled sweetly, showing off her long canines.

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“Ah, a vampire,” Hicham blinked. “This is my first encounter with one. How curious.”

“Be careful,” Udoriol warned as they circled the creature, “This one is far more powerful than any I’ve encountered.”

“Is she now?” Hicham said, breaking into a smile, “Then perhaps I will have a chance to show off.”

Grimald, meanwhile, had planted himself in front of the butler with his axe in his hands. “Let’s have no sudden moves from you, laddie,” he warned.

“Now, shall we continue where we left off?” Viorica focused her attention on the paladin, “I suppose I should tread carefully. There are two Chosen here, after all.”

She levelled her gaze on Sarah and Hicham in turn. “A shame that I can’t kill you now.”

Her eyes flicked irritably to the butler. “Weren’t they supposed to be sedated, Steven?”

“They refused any drinks,” he replied evenly.

Grimald’s eyes widened. He and Udoriol had drunk heavily. What if they had been poisoned?

“Yours were untouched,” the butler said, as though he’d read the dwarf’s thoughts. His gaze turned to the vampire slowly. “She wanted a chance at redemption.”

“Revenge,” Viorica corrected him, “I want revenge.”

“You will get no such thing!” Udoriol cried. His sword erupted in a blaze of shimmering fire as he strode toward her.

Sarah gasped as the vampire seemed to disappear and then reappear a moment later behind the elf. A single punch to the stomach floored the paladin, leaving him gasping for air.

“Udoriol!” Sarah cried and wracked her brain for a way she could help. The vampire could evade her fire blast by turning to mist and the others were too close to attempt a more powerful spell.

“I’ll handle this,” Hicham said, striding forward confidently.

Sarah’s eyes widened in amazement as shimmering wings of light erupted from the young man’s back. The light they radiated was so bright that the vampire took a step back and hissed.

“Come, beast, you deal with Treto’s Chosen now,” he said. His sword blazed intensely as he held it loose by his side.

Viorica hissed at Hicham and disappeared. The dark skinned young man stepped aside as the vampire appeared behind him and thrust his sword, skewering her through the midsection.

The vampire wailed and writhed in agony. The high pitched screeching caused Sarah to flinch, but Hicham continued to stare at the creature, unmoved. Black steam rose from around her wound as the sword sizzled.

“Huh,” Hicham grunted, “He’s right, you are strong, compared to what I’d been taught. Well, tough at the very least.”

He raised his arm and aimed it at Viorica’s chest. A lance of shimmering light shot out, piercing her through her heart. Her eyes widened briefly and moments later, she crumbled to dust.

“Watch out!” Sarah cried as she sent a bolt of blue fire through the air. It exploded as it struck Steven just as he was about to strike at Hicham.

The butler stopped in his tracks but looked physically unharmed by the blast. Hicham turned to face the new threat and spread his wings menacingly. The butler looked back impassively and sighed as he adjusted his spectacles. “Fighting the two of you now would level the mansion, and we can’t have that…”

He glanced at the pile of ashes that had once been Viorica and smirked. “So much for her revenge.”

“Are you in charge of all this?” Grimald demanded, furious at himself for letting the man slip past him.

“In charge?” Steven shook his head. “No. You’ll meet the Master soon enough.”

Sarah was about to cast a spell when thick, dark smoke engulfed the butler. A barrier shimmered as it appeared around the smoke, keeping it confined to a small area.

“Don’t breathe it in,” Udoriol croaked weakly as he slowly got to his feet, “I’ve read about that smoke. It will turn you into one of their thralls.”

They looked through the barrier for any sign of Steven, but the diminutive butler had disappeared.

“That was a pathetic display, old man,” Hicham smirked.

“I am still not recovered from our last fight,” Udoriol said as Sarah helped him to his feet, “in fact, she probably wasn’t either, so I claim half your victory.”

“Wait one minute,” Hicham said. He walked up to the barrier and chanted a short prayer before driving his sword into the ground. The ground beneath the dangerous looking smoke shimmered, and the smoke vanished in a flash.

“What do we do now?” Grimald asked, “And do we think the Marquis is with them?”

“It’s hard to say,” Udoriol replied.

“For what it’s worth, I think he’s not against us,” Hicham said, “I’ve met him a few times and would like to think I have the measure of him, but we can get him in a circle of truth to be sure.”

“Well, at least we don’t have to worry about her anymore,” John remarked as he looked at the pile of ash.

“You should have tried to take her alive,” Udoriol said, “She might have held a clue as to who or what this Chosen is.”

“I thought you’d already questioned her,” Hicham pointed out.

“There are always more questions to ask,” Udoriol replied.

“Do any of you know what a Drow is?” Sarah asked, remembering what she’d read before Hicham showed up.

Udoriol frowned. “I remember being told legends about them when I was very young. They were meant to be a group of elves that split off from the rest when our entire race was but a single tribe. They disappeared into the wilderness and were never heard from again.”

Sarah’s blood turned cold. “So Drow are elves?”

“More legends than anything,” Udoriol replied, “why do you bring them up?”

“I read that Ratri’s first worshippers were the Drow,” Sarah said, “And that Her first Chosen was one of them.”

“That first Chosen could be the very one that they are trying to… resurrect?” Udoriol offered. “Or perhaps the Chosen was imprisoned?”

Sarah shook her head. “The book didn’t say.”

“Well, it’s a clue,” Grimald remarked.

“Didn’t the Four Kingdoms used to be an elven kingdom?” Sarah ventured, “Perhaps that Chosen is somewhere here, on what used to be the borders of that kingdom.”

“That is a possibility,” Udoriol allowed.

“Perhaps that site is right here, under our feet,” Sarah continued, “Maybe that’s why that man was reluctant to fight us here and risk damaging the place.”

“Ah, brains and beauty,” Hicham smiled, “I have well and truly fallen for you.”

John cleared his throat and when all attention was on him said, “Things have long since gotten out of hand and now we have possibly made an enemy of someone who I’m told is the second most powerful man in the kingdom.”

“What’s your point?” Hicham asked.

“My point is that we should have walked away from this job the moment we encountered bloody vampires,” John said, looking at Grimald pointedly, “why are we still here, knowing what’s about to happen? Armies are on their way and a tremendous amount of blood is going to be spilt.”

“That’s it,” Sarah gasped.

“What’s it?” John asked irritably.

“The number of people congregating here,” Sarah said, looking at Udoriol, “You said that the souls of the recently dead could be collected in those gems.”

Udoriol turned pale and nodded.

“That must be what they’re after,” Grimald agreed.

“So, let’s inform the Church and be on our way,” John cried.

“Inform the Church about what exactly?”

Sarah whirled around to see Kurt standing at the door. A dozen blue cloaked guards rushed in past him with their weapons drawn.

“Drop your weapons,” one of them snarled.

“Ah,” Hicham said as he approached the Marquis with his blazing sword still held loosely by his side, “we were just about to come see you.”

“Explain yourselves quickly,” Kurt warned as his hand strayed to his sword.

“Wait,” Udoriol urged. He summoned a shimmering circle in front of him and stepped into it. “This is a Circle of Truth.”

“I am aware,” Kurt nodded.

“Your butler, Steven, lured us here where he and a vampire by the name of Viorica Noapte ambushed us,” Udoriol said. “They are both servants of the Night Goddess.”

Sarah saw confusion in the Marquis’ face that looked genuine enough.

“It is true,” Hicham added.

“Fire blast!” Sarah cried.

The bolt of fire struck one of the guards who had been poised to cut Kurt down from behind. He screamed as the fire consumed him before falling to the ground. Grimald moved quickly to intercept a blow from another and soon, a melee broke out. Two more guards were felled by Sarah’s spells while John, Grimald and Hicham dispatched the rest save for one.

The sole survivor looked at the Marquis with fearful eyes. “Please My Lord, I have no idea what’s going on.”

When he saw his master waver, he lunged forward. “For the Night Goddess!”

However, the Marquis anticipated his deception and side-stepped the lunge easily. In the blink of an eye, Kurt had sent the tip of his sword through the guard’s throat and tore it out with a flick of his wrist. The man gurgled as he collapsed into a heap.

“Should we question him?” Hicham asked as he stood over the dying man.

Udoriol levelled his gaze on Kurt. “No, I think we should find out if we’re all friends here first.”

“I understand,” Kurt said before stepping into the circle.

“Are you a worshipper of the Night Goddess, or in league with them?” Udoriol asked.

“No, I am a devout worshipper of Treto, and servant of the kingdom,” he replied.

“Thank you, and I’m sorry we had to do that,” Udoriol said.

Kurt looked at his slain guards and shook his head. “No, I quite understand. Who knew that I was living amongst traitors? I suppose I should count my blessings that my throat wasn’t cut in the night.”

“I suppose they needed you alive to advocate for an army to be brought in,” Hicham mused.

“I did exert all the pressure I could,” Kurt said worriedly. He then levelled his gaze on Hicham. “Now that I’ve proven that I have no affiliation to this filth, can you please tell me what’s going on?”

Once Hicham was done, Kurt stroked his beard and grunted. “I don’t know what they’re up to, but I do have an inkling where some strange things have been taking place…”

“Oh?” Udoriol asked hopefully.

“I’ve been hearing complaints from the City Guard,” Kurt said, “The men say that Captain Aaron has been keeping the more devout worshippers of Treto stationed on the wall instead of at the Citadel. I didn’t think anything of it at first, but now…”

“So that is where we should go next,” Udoriol declared. Sarah saw John scowl, but the young man held his tongue.

“The six of us can’t just show up at the Citadel and accuse them of plotting who knows what,” Hicham objected, “we should seek reinforcements first.”

“From where?” Udoriol asked.

Hicham smiled.

“You can’t be serious,” the elf breathed.