The heavy rain droplets drummed on the roof with a melancholic rhythm, as if accentuating the sad event of the day. The people of the church were nothing if not efficient. A wooden coffin lay beside the altar, nearly presented for the ceremony. Dozens of small and simple flower bouquets surrounded it, and the coffin’s lid was closed out of respect and to keep the public calm.
“You shouldn’t be here,” a middle-aged nun chided as she noticed a young man approaching with slow and frail steps, leaning on his cane. “The funeral will start in half an hour.”
“I know,” the youth answered as he walked closer to the coffin. “I’m sorry to ask this, but could I get a few minutes alone with my uncle? I’d like to say my goodbyes.”
“I shouldn’t,” the woman tried to deny or request but fell silent after seeing the pale and lonely face of the greyish-eyed youth. “Five minutes Cain. That’s all I can give you without getting into trouble.”
“Thank you, Mother Rosa.” He nodded gratefully toward the woman as she left.
When he was finally alone, Cain hurriedly hobbled closer and pried open the coffin. Inside it lay man, dressed in a clean if simple suit. Although the wound that caused his death had been sewn shut, it was still somewhat visible through the thin fabric.
“Hey there uncle,” the youth said with a pained tone. “I’m here as promised, although I’d rather you were still alive than doing this. Gods above. I have so much to thank you for, but now I guess I’ll never have the chance to pay you back for everything. I promise that I’ll look after myself, so you don’t have to worry about me. I’ll try my best to continue my studies as you wanted me to. I’ll make you proud, you’ll see.”
He reached out and gently grabbed his uncle’s hand, eyes still wet as he looked at the dead man.
“I, Cain Ambrose swear to uphold your teachings and carry on your legacy till the day I die or find a suitable apprentice of my own to pass on to. May the soul of our world be my witness to it.”
As soon as he finished, he gritted his teeth as if expecting a world of pain. The pain however didn’t come. A single tear welled up in Cain’s eyes as he looked at his uncle.
“It was stolen from you,” he muttered as a deep sadness and an unveiled anger flashed behind his eyes. “Don’t worry uncle; I’ll send the bastard that did this after you soon.”
“Cain,” he heard the nun call out to him. “His excellency is coming.”
“Thank you,” the frail young man nodded before he turned back toward the coffin to close its lid. “Farewell uncle, and thank you for everything!”
After the coffin was sealed once again, the youth walked over to the bench in the first row, sitting down with a ragged breath. Half a minute later the sound of the church’s door opening could be heard, followed by heavy footsteps.
“You have my deepest condolences, my boy,” an aged voice spoke as a gentle hand grabbed Cain’s shoulder slightly. “Abraham was a good man and we’ll all miss him dearly. If you’re ever in need of help, or just someone to talk to… you know where to find me.”
“Thank you, Father!” The youth nodded as the grey-haired priest moved on, placing a thick book on the small pedestal from where he always read out the word of God.
Time trickled by as people slowly gathered in the church one by one. Half an hour later the sanctum was filled with mourning villagers. Some of the older ones personally walked over to greet Cain, or to express their condolences for his loss. Soon a man of stocky build and a wiry-looking woman arrived, sitting not far from him on the same bench. The man wore proper albeit dark clothes, his dark brown eyes staring at the coffin as he pushed aside a few strands of his shaggy black hair from his face. The woman was gaunt and had a pair of light grey eyes set very deep in her long face that was circled by shoulder-long black hair.
“I still can’t believe he got himself killed just like that,” the woman whispered in an annoyed tone. “I told him that he was too old to play the hero, but he never listened. Now look where it got him. That stupid fool!”
“We’re in church,” the man whispered back. “Can’t you wait with the cursing after we left?”
“God doesn’t care about what I say, just as Abraham didn’t care. What are we going to do now that he’s dead? Who am I going to sell his shop to?”
“Sell his shop,” Cain looked at the woman with disgust and hate. “Uncle just died and you’re already thinking about selling his home? My home. I was there when he wrote his will. The shop is mine.”
“Silence brat,” the woman growled. “You’re far too young to own anything, so naturally, it belongs to me as his closest relative.”
“No, mother,” Cain stared into her eyes. “It does not. I’m already past eighteen, so by law, I can inherit it. Just as he willed it.”
“Don’t you dare call me that!” The woman raised her voice slightly, still trying to keep it somewhat civil as everyone turned their gazes toward them.
Before Cain could retort, the old priest cleared his throat loudly, calling everyone’s attention to himself.
“It is with a sad heart that we have gathered here today to say our last goodbyes to Abraham Ambrose. He was a beloved brother, friend and uncle, who will be dearly missed by us all. Abraham loved this village and everyone in it…”
The preacher went on with the funeral ceremony for nearly an hour, talking about the accomplishments and characteristics of Abraham, phrasing references from the book of God along the way. When the time was up, four village guards stood up and walked over to the coffin, lifting it onto their shoulders to carry it outside. The crowd followed them into the cemetery that was behind the church, watching as the coffin was lowered into a hole dug into the ground.
The grave keeper began to fill up the hole with a rusty shovel while Mother Rosa sang the funeral song with several of the older villagers joining in. Once the grave was filled, the villagers placed flowers on it before nodding towards Cain and leaving. As the young man left the cemetery, he saw the guards talk amongst themselves, one of them waving towards him.
“Cain,” the salt and pepper haired man called out to him. “You should go home before you get sick in this rain. I’ll bring over your uncle’s belongings in a few minutes.”
“Thank you, Mr. Reed.” Cain nodded as he watched the man walk over to the local guard captain with a spring in his step unlike others his age would have.
With the rain as heavy as it was, the youth had to trudge through thick mud on his way back to his uncle’s shop while holding his cane slightly up to protect it from the mud. The neigh of a horse caught his attention as he looked over to the trading outpost that served as the centre of their village. Several horse carts stood in front of the building with people getting off, pulling off crates and pieces of luggage from the carts.
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“Cain,” a creaky voice called after the youth from the dispersing crowd. “What’s with all the crowd? And where’s your uncle?”
“We were gathering for a funeral.” The young man answered as he kept on walking towards the shop with the hooded figure following him.
“A funeral? Who died?”
“Uncle Abraham.”
The man stopped in his tracks after hearing the answer, staring at the back of the youth.
“Damn it,” he cursed. “Abraham’s dead? What the hell am I going to do now? We had a deal, and I have to get rid of this thing before I get caught.”
Cain also stopped after hearing the man’s outburst.
“Follow me to the shop,” he said over his shoulder in his frail tone. “We can talk about it inside. There are prying ears everywhere.”
“Oh,” the man began to move once again. “You’re right. This kind of business should be done indoors.”
The two of them walked on silently in the rain, arriving at a small shop with a hanging sign above the door that had a knapsack and a pan painted on it. Cain pulled out a heavy bronze key from his pocket and opened the door, ushering the shady-looking man inside.
“Have a seat,” He said as he pointed towards the counter dad had two seats beside it. “I’ll bring over some warm tea.”
With that he left towards the door behind the counter, not even caring what the man would do in his absence. Behind the door was a large room that was split into different sections by waist-high walls. One of these sections was a small kitchen with a metal stove that still had some cinders burning in it. With a few twigs and thin logs added to it, the fire awakened, heating the metal plate where a simple bronze kettle was placed. The water inside it soon began to boil as it let out a slight whistle. Cain was in the middle of preparing a cup for himself and the stranger when he heard the door being opened.
“Cain,” he heard a familiar voice or Reed from the other room. “Barnes; what are you doing here?”
‘Right on time.’ Cain thought as he took off a third cup from the rickety wooden shelf on the wall, placing it down beside the other two.
“I’ll be there in a minute,” he yelled. “Just take a seat. I’ll bring some tea for you as well. We sure gonna need it with all this cold rain outside.”
“Thank you, lad!” He heard Reed’s answer from the other room.
Cain moved swiftly, putting a couple of dried leaves in the three cups before walking over to a different section of the large room, pulling out a tiny bottle that contained a brown syrupy liquid and another one that held a colourless water-like substance. After returning to the cups, he put three drops from both bottles into two of the cups before filling them up with hot water and steering them with a small spoon. He filled the third cup with water, leaving it to soak while he brought the other two over to the counter where his guests were waiting.
“Here you go,” he said with a forced welcoming smile. “This should warm you up a little bit. I hope you like it sweet. I put a few drops of syrup into it.”
“Thank you, Cain!” Reed said as he accepted the cup.
“Thank you, lad!” The other man nodded as well.
Without his cloak covering the stranger, the sight of a crooked-nosed man with shaggy mud-coloured hair was now bare to see for anyone.
“I’ll be back in a moment,” the youth claimed. “I’ll just bring over my cup.”
Cain walked back to the kitchen with slow, tired and all too weak steps, grabbing the third cup to take a whiff of the pleasant herbal scent of the tea. When he returned to the counter, he found the two men sitting there, waiting for him with their cups already almost empty. Barnes seemed to be a bit nervous in the presence of the guard, but the young man showed no hesitation as he began to speak.
“I know what deal you and Uncle Abraham had,” he said. “Although he’s dead, you don’t have to worry. I’ll pay his dues to you in his stead.”
“What deal?” Reed asked with a raspy voice that even he was surprised to hear.
“He asked old Barnes here to get a few sovereign stones and a vial of Anima dust for him.”
“Sovereign...”
“Yes,” Cain nodded. “That kind of stuff. You know, the king of ingredients an alchemist could use to create a Sovereign’s Sigil. Not that you would be interested in it, seeing how you’ve already stolen my uncle’s.”
“How...” Reed tried to ask with panic taking over his expression.
“I found it quite strange that you two happened to run into bandits just an hour after you asked him to join the search party for that lost Baker child.”
While Cain was speaking, Reed tried to jump up from his seat, but he tripped and fell on the ground like a man who had one too many to drink.
“I also found it strange that I couldn’t inherit his sigil, even though I was supposed to be his successor. That meant that it was already taken by someone and I highly doubt that the bandits would know about something he kept hidden for so long.” Cain explained in a cold tone.
“Not to mention that you’ve been strolling around after your supposed battle and also today as if you were as young as me, despite all your ‘age-old’ war injuries. How was the tea by the way?” He smiled weakly as he looked at the paralysed man while walking over to the entrance door to lock it with his key.
“I hope you don’t mind the Black Silk Spider venom I put into it,” he said as he watched Barnes wobble and fall on the ground as well. “Three drops are supposed to be enough to knock down even a horse.”
“Why?” Barnes tried to speak, but his voice was barely a whisper.
“A sigil can only be seized forcefully if someone has a ‘Sigil Rending’ card or uses a ‘Rending’ crystal. There is only one person I know who’s able to get something like that. You. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together since I know you have dealings with pretty much every guard and tradesman in the village.”
“I didn’t...”
“You didn’t what,” Cain looked at the shifty smuggler. “You didn’t know he was going to use that thing to murder and then desecrate my uncle? He was the only one with a Sovereign’s sigil in a hundred kilometres. Do you want to tell me that the infamous Barnes was too stupid to figure out what was going to happen? No, you’re not that dumb. You just didn’t know when it was going to happen. Either way. At least you came back right on time.”
While saying that, the young man stepped beside the man’s heavy knapsack and opened it, rummaging through its contents until he found what he was looking for. He pulled out a small box covered with the symbol feared by everyone of common birth. Cain gazed at the symbol of the imperial army with apprehension before turning his attention back to the two struggling men on the floor. He wanted to check the box’s contents, but he was on a timer with the paralytic venom and he wasn’t sure how long that thing would keep a sigil bearer under.
“I would love to take my time with the two of you,” he said with the flames of pain and hatred-infused madness burning in his eyes. “But that venom won’t last long and I wouldn’t be a match for you in my current condition, so we’ll have to cut this short.”
Cain let out a dejected sigh as he wobbled over to the other side of the counter, pulling out a large dagger from a hidden compartment. He then crouched beside Reed, trailing the blade’s tip along the man’s left arm, leaving a bleeding gash along the way. As if to answer the man’s pain, a glowing symbol appeared on the back of his hand and around his wrist.
“There it is,” the youth said with a pained tone. “To think that you would throw away decades of friendship for something like this.”
A split second later he jammed the blade all the way to the hilt into the man’s heart while staring him in the eye.
“When you meet him on the other side, tell Uncle Abraham that I’ll be fine. He can rest easy now.” Cain said as he watched Reed struggle for a few more seconds as the last sparks of life left his eyes.
“One down,” he remarked, pulling the blade free from the now-dead guardsman. “One more to go.”