Into the great commercial city, we go. Mmm, these gates are very large. I mean they're a good thirty metres tall. Taller than Sharne and even Joost. They're definitely rich… Yeah, we’ll ignore that for now.

More importantly…

“Anyone know where the bird went?”

“Nope,”

Godsdamnit Lily. I take my eyes off you for but a brief lapse of time and you vanish on me. You aren’t the little crow you used to be, so you can’t be this reckless! With all this snow, I’d be hard pressed to find your arse out here…

Nonetheless, you should be back by nighttime so I guess I’ll scold you then.

Anyway, where even are we?

“Jeffrey, I thought you used to be a civil servant, yet you don’t even know your basic geography? How shameful,” Laffer derides me in mock scorn, “We’re in the production city, Levet, five days from the capital,”

“Aww, so we're sojourning here? It’s cold… and scary…” The plant shivers, making me wonder why we haven't put a sack over it yet.

Anyway, barring the plant, I’ve actually heard of this place. Although I can’t read a map, I sure as hell know Levet. After all, it’s responsible for dealing and manufacturing nearly all of the luxury goods in the Kingdom. Naturally, it also means that they're hella rich. Like they got the goods man. Ah! And in line with that fact, inspections are tight. Very tight. And considering that we’re literally undisguisedly prancing around as cultists we’re sure to be caught, right?

Wrong.

Well, actually right in a sense… Well, all the senses in fact. Dok for some reason thought we could just roll in and well, seeing his brazen attitude… I thought he had preparations.

Of course, that was simply too much to ask for. The blackhat raised no small commotion, and Dok’s little talking plant —Allie it was called—, didn’t help our case.

“Aight palios, I’m gonna hafta ask for y'all to put your hands in the air,” A guard spouts the manual spiel.

Which is “Very déjà vu,”

“Hmmhmm,” Lazari nods.

Hmm? Did you think we were out of the woods since we were having a leisurely conversation? How bold of you to assume such a thing!

“By the estate of his lordship sir Brikolas Tikbrik the Third, you fiends shalt be apprehended!”

What? What kind of cursed name was that?

Also, what kind of guards are these? Suddenly, announcing their affiliation like that… That’s not usual protocol.

And that’s when I notice something. Just like their assertion, they wear grey tunics, embroidered with a certain coat of arms of a certain familiar nature. A modification to the Astra Insignia. These aren’t your usual city guards. They hold the banner of a noble house, so these people are definitely ones of note. Diplomacy may not be a viable option considering the lack of outs one can achieve via diplomacy with those of note. I learned that from that Night Knight a while back.

However, my observations failed to pick up on a little something, “Brick… olas?” It’s a quiet murmur.

And it’s not from someone I’d expect.

Just as deathly as her voice, she was already upon the guards.

Lazari… I thought I taught you self control…

I can virtually hear the hinges snapping off as she mechanically plunges her knife through the neck of a prestiged footmen.

Sigh, “How lovely,” I deadpan.

Her demomic presence practically spews out form her being. Anyone with any slight attunement to essence would notice this oddity.

“Jeff… D’you have history with ‘em?”

I’m inclined to say no, though it’s not untrue that they seem familiar. But my memory fails me. Perhaps Lazari knows? Mm, let’s help her out for now and we’ll sort things out later.

“Sure, why not?”

By now, it was wholly clear to everybody at the gatehouse that we were certified bad guys, and the sudden violence from a child caught many off guards. Ironic considering they were guards —Even more ironic considering how I’m also a guard—.

The gatehouse itself isn’t that crowded on account of the snow season, but traffic is still pretty heavy on the pretext that this is a core trade city, and on notice of a potential invasion, the guard count is high.

“Hehe Jeffrey, a perfect stage!” Laffer though, seems enthused with these facts, “Turmoil on trade! Right when the kingdom needs it most, we’ll be the bane of the existence of all!”

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

Of course he’s enthused. Only on a scene as flamboyant and dramaturgical as this would he muster such titillating euphoria. Passion blazing in his eyes.

The renown and flair of such a stage was naught what the man could stake to spurn… That and he loves being a thorn in everyone's backside.

I’m beginning to suspect that should there have been no incident, Laffer would still have struck one up. I betcha he was one of those serial killers who went ‘round killin’ people then spreading their entrails about the place before joining this damned cult. Good lord, I remember having to pick up little pieces of flesh from beneath floorboards… Bastards made life miserable even after being shot to death.

“Good lord Jeff…” Laffer stiffens under my accusatory glare, “I was just your average archivist so don't pin that crap on me, and we’re not a cult, so stop spreading that misconception.”

Archivist? My arse. If you were gonna pose as a literal paper pusher, then at least look the part. After all, “You don’t seem learned in the slightest.”

“Jeff, you don’t need to be learned to know D goes before B— I mean, C goes before-before D.”

"Yeah no. I’m unconvinced.” I state firing a plain bolt at an approaching sharpswordsman. Damn, how I miss not being able to enchant these anymore.

Stupid Dark Arts. I like being able to use virtually any other art. Lords above knew what a pain this was. Though I guess this power does come with a drawback then, huh. Because of how mad broken these arts were, people usually just said that they were borrowing from an evil god, leading to insanity.

Good to know the insanity bit ain’t true.

Bad to know that I can only use ‘em.

"Jeffrey, why would we need anything else? There is like, no weakness to the dark arts. I've checked," Laffer explains whilst being impaled, really hammering his point in, but…

"Strange. I seem to remember a time when we weren't able to harm to an individual literally incapable of moving." I shoot him a look.

Yeah, that shuts the dumbass up.

“Uuuh, do you guys know what you’re doing? Is this normal?” The plant looks around at the veritable regiment of footmen surrounding us, “This doesn’t look normal…”

I can agree somewhat. “The amount of attention we’re getting is normal, but the quality of these footmen are not.”

My response garners a small, comprehending nod from the plant.

“Now that you say it, these guys have some sharp swords!” Shouting in an epiphany, Laffer drains the life essence as he’s cut up from multiple angles. But these wounds are quick to heal.

“Well yes.” They are sharpswordsmen. Their swords are, y’know, sharp. Not the usual footmen you’d see guarding a gate.

Oh my, in fact, I think I see a moon mage just over the grating. And strangely enough, like these sharpswordsmen, the moon mage also bears robes sporting that same coat of arms. Getting a better look at one of those around me, it seemed like a grey snake looking at the stars.

Don’t know what that could mean. But they’re definitely in allegiance with the crown, that’s for sure. Good thing moon mages are next to useless in the day. So although they're here. The most they can do is glare menacingly at us.

Though, it's not as if they're participation would've made a difference anyway. I mean, it's not as the dark arts are infallible. Ignore the fact that I've never heard of a documented heretic dying. But I'm not the kind to want to tempt the fickle Miss Fortune so Dok's suggestion comes with good succor.

“My good sir, if you would rally back the little one, then these burnt ashes would do us well here,” Dok taps my shoulder, "Much better than drying out slowly."

Oh ye, Lazari… Crap, I get distracted too much don’t I? The call from ashes always brings me back though… Where is that bird?

Luckily, the little girl hadn’t wandered too far off, and after prying her off a swordsman —not a sharp one—. She struggles in my arms, like she wants to do more stabby, even baring her fangs at them. Yeah, this is difficult.

“You may want to blanket the young lady,” Dok says passing me a handkerchief which I receive with much difficulty. To actually get the cloth around her mouth is met with even more challenge.

And before I lose a grip on the child, I let Dok do the thing. With a dapper finesse, the ashes of what I presume to be some kind of unholy shrub are embossed over our attackers.

I don’t know how it goes that far, but it does. And apart from getting in their eyes, doesn’t do much else.

“Dok?”

“Don’t worry, Mister Laffer is sure to trigger it.”

Trigger wha—? And then I see him punch a man. Now this on it's own means nothing, considering how Laffer is a maniac, but then the man levigates. He doesn't just die. He levigates. Turned to paste, mushed to stains. And not just that man, all of them do the same.

“Uh what?” Looking down at his hands, even the perpetrator himself is perplexed!

“Ashes refined of the executioner’s rose. A potent catalyst. Kills on the molecular level.”

That name sounds… familiar. And looking at the massacre around us, I can see just how indiscriminate this was. I mean, even the travellers waiting in line, bystanders at the gate before us were all nothing but slabs, shriveled of all vitality.

Actually no, not all of them. There were a couple guys laughing hysterically whilst melting.

This had to be illegal.

Wait, lemme correct myself. This is illegal. Don’t know why I thought otherwise, but yes. This is very illegal.

Although the Astra Kingdom technically did allow cults within their borders, murder was still illegal. Very illegal.

At the same time, it seems like Lazari stopped her frenzy.

“Mmphm.” Her voice is muffled but I can tell she’s back to her usual self. Nothing about her current betrays her previous murderous actions, nothing but her positively incandescent knife and her bloody person.

And I think some of it’s her own blood. You may be thinking how I know this. After all, all blood looks the same. But they don’t all feel the same. Okay, I’m sounding like a creep here, but trust me, demons just bleed different.

“Are you okay?”

The little one just inspects herself with bleary eyes, before saying, “Yesn’t.”

Crap, just realised, but her wrist had a large gash in it. Not mentioning her other botches, this was the most urgent.

Does anyone here know healing magick? No? Yeah, I don’t know what I was expecting.

“Jeff, don’t be so hasty to discard us, you’re using logic and thus looking for healing magick for little Lazari, but have you tried backward logic?”

“I haven’t. No, no-” That’s when the ramifications of Laffer’s words ram me like a stampede of cattle. Backwards… That's the best word to describe these cultists!

My lord. I think I’ve cracked the enigma of the heretics. Oh, and thought of a way to help Lazari. That as well.