Dear Bishop Graham,

I understand, and retract my earlier statement expressing suspicion on the Oracle.

I beg your humble forgiveness and ask that you deliver this enclosed gift to the Witchdoctor as a mark of atonement.

May the Spirit bless your path,

Inquisitor Deroch

***

Two days later, they arrived at Port Savig. The nightmare they had experienced that night was buried in their minds, and if there was one saving grace from the incident, it was that Exill earned over two hundred Denars healing people who had been hurt during the hypnotising ritual. Injuries mostly inflicted by him. He breathed a sigh of relief when their feet stepped on solid ground.

Port Savig was built on the eastern bank of the estuary where the mighty river Torin met the Pyrean sea. There was a small fortification and lighthouse on the western bank of the river. It was a city of considerable size with its own branch of the Mercenaries Guild helping to contain the Labyrinth situated northeast in the city outskirts.

An imposing castle stood at the centre, overlooking the port from which the Duke of Savig ruled with a benevolent hand. Exill was about to ask for directions to the Mercenary Guild when a red robed priestess hesitantly approached from the road, immediately putting him on guard.

“Witchdoctor Exill? For a second I didn’t recognise you! I’ve been waiting here for two days! We received a missive from Ark several days ago by Weyn Moth instructing us to hand over this package the moment you arrived.”

The Priestess was flushed with happiness at the thought of interacting with someone who had been blessed by the Spirit. She excitedly pressed the brown parcel the size of a finger into Exill’s unwilling hands.

“Thank you...” he murmured, unsure if he should immediately flee.

‘So they figured out I would come here, but their timing suggests they weren’t sure exactly when I would arrive.’ Exill pondered, knowing how difficult it was to divine anything related to someone who had broken free of Fate.

His ears perked up upon hearing a Weyn Moth had been dispatched to deliver this message. The giant moths were the size of a large bird and renowned for the silver metallic iridescence of their scales. They served as single use messengers, capable of carrying larger items.

‘Whatever message the parcel held couldn’t be good if it came from the Church.’ He thought while hurrying away from the Priestess. “We’ll open it when we check in at the Inn.” He said halfheartedly, in response to Envy’s unspoken question.

Asking around for directions, they arrived at Savig’s Mercenary Guild half an hour later. Unlike the Guild office they were familiar with, Savig’s branch was a massive complex with attached warehousing and processing facilities, perhaps owing to its remote position in the outskirts.

Ark’s Guild had the same infrastructure, but it was more spread out because land in the Inner City was priced at a premium.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

The two entered through the main doorway and was greeted with a familiar scene, relieved that the interior layout was the same as Ark despite the imposing exterior. Standing in line for the queue for requests, they didn’t have to wait long before a smartly dressed clerk addressed them.

“Hi, how can I help you today?” he asked in a mellow voice.

“I’m here to follow up on a request I posted in Ark. I want to interview the person who remembered seeing my brother.” Envy replied.

Exill waited from the side while the Clerk updated his companion on the details, going so far as directing her on the whereabouts of the slave market. She thanked the Clerk and led Exill out by the arm to the vacant streets overlooking the coast.

A gentle sea breeze blew into shore, softly rustling their clothes and bringing with it the scent of sun blasted sand, salt, and seaweed. Envy appeared lost in thought while idly brushing loose black strands of hair from her lips, staring out into the distance. Exill waited awkwardly at her side, not knowing what he could do or say to help.

“…Can you tell with your divination if my brother is still alive?” she had been afraid to ask the question until now.

There were many opportunities to ask about her brother’s fate through indirect means but now that they were close to finding the answer, she needed time to prepare.

“I’m sorry, but I need a piece of him, even a lock of hair that might have a trace of his mana left behind.”

“… Oh,” she replied, simultaneously let down and relieved at the same time. At least this way, she could cling on to hope.

For a long while, Exill had theorised her silence stemmed from reluctance to visit the slave market and be reminded of its horrors. Now that he understood what was on her mind, he could empathise with her. Had he not gone through the same uncertainty and heartbreak while searching for Verill?

Remembering his encounter with the Wraith in the Infested Edifice… he wondered if it hadn’t been a blessing in disguise. It provided much needed closure to a chapter of his life he could never return to.

‘Yeah… it would have made it difficult for me to leave Ark if I thought there was a chance he would return.’ He rubbed his nose ruefully in recollection, ‘I bet he would have been outraged by the Inquisitor’s treatment of me and insisted on following me.’ The incongruity of everything he had left behind seeped into him.

“It just hit me that we’re going to leave, across this vast sea.”

The vast featureless expanse of rolling waves represented a new adventure, with god knows how many frightening abominations lurking within its depths. In a moment of weakness, he turned back to the cosy memory of the Clinic, already a fading memory left behind.

The two of them walked silently back to the city in shared sorrow and regret.

***

Sometime after they had checked into the Inn, Envy observed from the bed as she dried her hair. She watched Exill channel mana into the rune throwing bones while wordlessly mouthing his questions again. They had checked in to a shared room at a moderately priced Inn not too far from where they would be conducting their investigations. Exill was bare chested with a linen towel draped across his shoulders, his hair still damp from washing earlier.

“I’m trying to figure out what’s inside the box. It might be a trap… but the runes don’t indicate any danger.” He explained, feeling the Vampire’s gaze.

It never hurt to be cautious, especially where the Inquisition was involved. Reluctantly, he slid the little box away.

“We should check out the harbour tomorrow and see what routes are available to us, and what the passage will cost. After that, I will come with you to the slave markets to follow up on your lead.” He changed the topic, still reluctant to open the box.

“Open it.” Envy exhaled, growing tired that he was dragging this out. She made to get off the bed and open the box herself, which made Exill hurriedly take action.

“Fine.” With trembling apprehension, he unlaced the cord tying down the lid and slowly opened it.

He sat there in silence, the light draining from his eyes when he immediately recognised the contents. Concerned by his reaction, Envy crossed the room to check what was inside the box and was frozen in spot when she identified what lay within.

It was a silver ring of intricate design, with the finger still attached.