----------------------------------------
----------------------------------------
Rhys Vardran
‘Dar Tulca’
The Outmost Arbiter
Part II
-A man that likes doing only one thing-
----------------------------------------
----------------------------------------
The bounty hunter had kept Rhys on his toes for weeks. While everything pointed to the quest approaching its conclusion, Lear appeared unwilling to let his guard down. The latter was a good thing, and Rhys was all for keeping alert, be it on the road or on a job, but Lear Hik’s intense presence made everyone uncomfortable at all times.
Or at least it felt that way to the guild leader, who also tried to navigate the presence of Dar Vranga –aka Flix- and Rhys’ personal relationship with Selussa while travelling with a group of strangers basically.
And a hundred legionnaires.
The bigger group Rhys had ever travelled with prior to that was Ralnor’s. Out in the open no less. He felt a bit overwhelmed and distracted. Well, not distracted enough to miss the bounty hunter galloping ahead on his own. Rhys slotted thumb and mid-finger in his mouth over the tongue and let out a sharp whistle to alert the wincing Selussa. He then went after Lear, with the affronted woman cursing Rhys behind his back for treating her like a dog.
It wasn’t Rhys’ intention to insult Selussa, just his baser instincts that had been honed to snap into action cutting through the bullshit, after working alone for decades. While the assassin leader understood Lear’s need to draw all his enemies to the forefront, he couldn’t agree with Lear’s complete disregard for getting himself or other people hurt.
More like his tunnel vision on the task, Rhys thought leaping from the saddle of his galloping horse, while still half-inside half-outside the exit of the tunnel, the moment he saw Lear brutally behead the first man that approached him alike a chicken.
Oras hells!
A snarling Rhys burned incense to walk into a shadow cast by the barbican and walked out of it forty meters away, near a tiny thicket at the east corner of the walls, not that far from the corner tower. Which was a cause for alarm. While the spell had worked and Rhys now flanked most of the men after Lear –Rhys had popped out behind them as they all turned to attack the bounty hunter- but for a small group loitering west of the gates… the spell had over-performed.
By a fucking lot.
Walking the Shades was an intricate thing that required concentration, strong will, good geometry, aye… along the ability to discern distances and shapes correctly. Else you are fucked. Rhys had rushed the screaming darkness wearing a deep scowl on his face, boots hitting the soft sands energetically, mind cleared of all distractions and with his eyes locked in on the target. The glowing chasm had stirred as it did usually, then turned into a door as the sprinting assassin approached.
White and grey layers had pulled back like thin curtains to reveal the reality beyond the in-between realms. The road back to Cartagen’s square. The light from the torches more yellow in color and the sky still cloudy.
Only this wasn’t the spot Rhys had picked to emerge from in his head.
The assassin’s scowl turned into a comical grimace of bewilderment mid-stride, as he came with a leap out of the shades fully and found himself back in the real world. You don’t just take a wrong turn whilst in the process of following a blasted floodlit… solitary fucking-path…the latter, while narrow and flat enough to navigate, also the only path visible… scratch that, the only path available to you -in the pitch-fucking black!
> Ralnor’s skilled fingers stopped working on the piece of flesh he had turned into a gory cube and a pair of icy-silver eyes turned to focus on the young boy. Oras hells be whispering, a disturbed Rhys repeated caught unawares by the sudden flashback, as present time seemingly stopped by divine intervention with him travelling mid-air.
>
> ‘There’s another world lurking in the shades. One of many,’ his ancient tutor and father figure for a time rustled, in that characteristic hushed and gravelly voice that made your skin crawl. ‘Many secret paths next to the one you’ll someday venture upon. It shall be the one Oras has illuminated for you with the help of the Fading Light. The majority usually hurries to ‘walk the shades’ as fast as they can and it’s probably safer.’
>
> ‘I thought only you did that?’ A very young Rhys had asked curiously, whilst trying to keep out of his ears the gruesome sounds produced by the wild raccoon that was busy gobbling up the leftover pieces of the now quartered corpse’s body.
>
> ‘Mmm,’ Dar Eherdir, Fae O' Elum hummed thoughtfully. He then shoved the gory cube in his mouth and worked at the flesh with the molars for another drawn-out moment. ‘If you conquer your fear of the dark,’ the father of the guild finally said in that same tone. ‘You could venture down those paths, find creatures living there that are naturally attuned to the shades and even come to appreciate the antediluvian blackness’… more-sinister spirits, for they revel in their solitude’s stupor…’
>
> ‘They rest in the shades?’ Rhys gasped in horror interrupting him.
>
> Ralnor pursed his thin lips unamused. There was nothing he hated more than getting dragged in endless conversations or answering needless questions.
>
> ‘Apologies.’ Rhys croaked.
>
> ‘Because natural light is their mortal enemy.’ His tutor added with a warning glare and reached for another strip of flesh to work on it.
Rhys had no idea why that memory had surfaced out of the blue and coming back to the present –flying out of the shades at the end of his ‘walk’- he didn’t have any time to ponder on it or search for any hidden meaning.
He spotted a cursing Lear caught under his horse and then somebody crashed on him from the sides and they both went down. A seriously piqued Rhys rolled on the stone tiles, his left elbow under a pointy chin, a strong hand grabbing at his right armpit and long fingers digging in the soft flesh there.
Fingernails hard as iron spikes.
A growling gasp and he caught a mouthful of nice-smelling hair, bit down and pull at the trapped lock until it gave, used the gained space to shove the head back and then Rhys was free from his assailant. He stood up dazed and spat the teared out hair down –skull skin attached and all, his eyes on the lithe somber female rising a meter away from where he had ended up.
Slant-eyed Cofol face of sorts, black hair and eyes, and sporting a bead-net outfit, the old queens of Wetull favored and he’d seen in rich folk house-paintings or worn by opulent girls back on Eplas when they wanted to be kinky. Only she had another long piece of garb on, right underneath, making it appear completely conservative now. She smiled using only the left portion of her mouth initially, face almost splitting in two parts, before the rest of it joined in the grimace.
Rhys licked his lips and took a step back, a hand reaching for his grip-less throwing knives.
“The spot might stay bald for a while,” he taunted in a rustle to distract her and hurled a blade at the seemingly unruffled female. He aimed for her face but she jerked it aside violently, almost breaking her neck. Which was right impressive without a doubt, but Rhys attacked afore it completely registered, thinking she was one of Flix’s friends of the Circle.
Zilan, Gish or some other fabled monster.
He’d gotten his scimitar out in that first stride, again moving forward, thinking she wasn’t that muscular or hairy-enough to be a female Varg/werewolf, assuming she-wolves are a thing? Nonetheless, a sage development. Aye. Anyways, she was too tall to be a Gish and now that Rhys had closed with her again, nowhere near long-eared enough to be a Zilan.
She was pretty, in her black, white and dark-blue way. For Rhys could spot the tiny blue veins under the skin of her unmoving eyes. Something grim lurking in there, so inhumanly aloof it felt completely alien.
Bye-bye doll, Rhys thought and savagely hacked with his scimitar to split her down the middle. The blade plunged down and the woman’s body exploded in a myriad tiny shiny pieces like firefly larvae that buzzed away from her garbs. The scimitar’s tip –now wrapped in the female’s outfit- clanked on the stone tiles, Rhys went through the strange tingling cloud due to momentum, scattered it and got out on the other side with a curse. The assassin twirled around, greatly spooked and properly alarmed now, switching the grip on his sword, caught the last stage of the buzzing shingles turning into a solid body again, pale limbs, round tits and comely head all accounted for…
Rhys chanced a quick glance lower, just to be certain he was fighting a woman –Goddess’ hairless mercy- and when he raised his eyes again, the woman caught him with a slap, so powerful Rhys lost the ground under his feet. He was hurled backwards, briefly flying semi-unconscious but snapping out of it mid-air and turning to land into a roll on the stone tiles.
He’d two teeth loose deep in his mouth. A large swelling under the left eye, he could do nothing about and those were some very expensive teeth to just spit out. A grimacing in pain and deeply embarrassed Rhys stood up.
“Sister of the Circle?” He chanced managing a flashy grin, using a tongue to check on the teeth and make an attempt to shove them back in place. He failed the latter and used the brief respite to work on his numb shoulder with his free hand as it had taken the brunt of the fall.
“You words are false,” the woman snorted with contempt and walked to her clothes to dig an exotic sword out. A smaller version of the curved Katacim, favored by the Sesei Segun of Cautara and Magor. Rhys knew the design since he’d stayed with the parochial and austere Cofol of that faraway northwestern side of Eplas for years after he had left Ralnor and the girls behind.
Much of his rather abrupt manners Rhys had gotten from Atrusim and his people, along finishing his weapon training.
He immediately got his second, almost identical blade out. The noise of the scrap raging around them blocked out of his mind. The armed woman turned around and Rhys pursed his mouth tightly at the sight of the unblemished pale skin, touched by the light of the square’s torches.
“Just walk away skinny lass,” he grunted brusquely. “I forgive you!”
“I can’t,” she replied and jumped towards him. The naked female swung the blade before landing on the assassin but missed everything as Rhys had already dived to the side. He landed already twisting around on the balls of his feet.
The female attacked again covering the distance rapidly and Rhys moved to block her blade with the scimitar, strike with the other, only to notice that she didn’t hold a sword anymore but what looked like a shade of it. Oras hells! The gleam of her sword coming a couple of feet to his right, now held by the female’s shadow.
“Eargh,” Rhys growled and sidestepped to the left in order to place her body between them. He stabbed with the sword as well but the female folded her waist backwards, brutalizing her spine and returned afore the stooped Rhys could detach himself.
Rhys had seen such an acrobatic feat in the circus but he’d no time to stand back and admire his opponent’s godly flexibility.
The assassin saw the female’s pale face approach in a haze, well-formed mouth opened wide, and curved fangs extending outwards grotesquely. They pierced the fleshy part of his cheek right above the cheekbone. Rhys felt sharp canine fangs hit the bone. The pain blinding and his blood splashing out of the wound.
A groaning Rhys run his sword over her exposed ribs in retaliation, switching grip to take advantage of the tight space. He cut her deep and then yanked his head back to get rid of the woman.
The crazy bitch just wouldn’t let go of his face. She kept biting down instead, cold lips sealing the wound air-tight and deep sucking sounds erupting as the female slurped at the freaked-out Rhys’ spurting blood. Rhys growled moving his feet to dodge another attack from the woman’s armed shadow, nothing in the plaguing manual on how to deal with this kind of conundrum, and saw the edge of his sword another time over the open wound he’d created, this time breaking a rib.
The woman let go of his mauled face to grab at his wrist with the left hand, her moving shadow dissolving and that exotic short sword reappearing in her right. She made to attack him, but Rhys moved forward instead of dodging and sunk his gold incisors in the low of her neck, under the thyroid bone. A brutal yank right and then left, tearing at the skin and flesh until she had to jump away from him with a guttural hiss. Her dark blood bitter and cold, burned on his tongue. God damn it! A groaning Rhys spat down disgusted and glared at the badly injured woman that had trouble speaking, a hand clasping at her torn throat.
“What are you?” He snapped with a hoarse grunt and a blade exploded out of the woman’s guts, black gore splashing down. The sword retreated and then disappeared back inside her butchered belly before she could reply.
Rhys didn’t need a reply by then. He had figured out what this fresh freak of nature was.
Oras Hells in our sweet witch’s visions.
The severely injured woman faltered a couple of steps to the side and a sweaty, fiercely red Edge appeared in her stead, looking a little confused. With a shrug the old warrior stepped forward and run the trying to speak woman through for a second time. The heavy blade getting in from the left side of her ribcage destroying flesh, organs and bones afore breaking out the other.
Damnation!
Edge put left hand and left boot on the doubled over naked female’s neck for purchase and then yanked his stuck sword out brutally. She collapsed lifelessly at his feet.
“Lad, ye look like yesterday’s shit, and it might be the day afore that,” Edge commented with a glance at the still stunned Rhys, who gulped down nervously some of the gore and stared at the grimacing warrior.
“It’s naught but a scratch!” The heavily-bleeding down his face, foul gore-covered Rhys woofed aggressively, not to appear like a weakling or a cunt. “Look who’s talking! Are you injured?”
“Ayup,” Edge admitted with a pained drawn-out grunt, sounding on the verge of a heart attack. “But not in this scrap lad. What’s her story?” He asked pointing at the butchered female.
“She’s a fucking Alafern!” Rhys blasted him for no reason, half the words a growl of pain as he’d checked on his chewed-up face in the meantime.
Edge snorted and stared towards Lear that had just killed a bowman, splitting his skull in half like a watermelon and then swiftly proceeded to chop off both arms out of another. The bounty hunter had an arrow stuck on his chest but didn’t seem to care about that fact so much. Rhys looked to find Selussa next, but spotted the Gish following Baron Nattas around? Wait a god darn minute, why is he here? He wondered, almost missing Edge’s next query.
“That so?” The veteran bounty hunter had asked. “What does it mean?”
“She was a fabled vampir, a lord of the undead from the lands beyond,” Rhys elucidated in an overconfident manner leaving it vague in the end, because he didn’t know the last part and touched his torn cheek tenderly with the tip of a finger to staunch the bleeding.
“You don’t say,” Edge rustled a bit intrigued now and turned to look at the grimacing Rhys. “Didn’t Valwarin say in that song, they can only get killed by wood or fire?” The veteran asked somewhat perturbed. “Ye think that fool meant ‘wood’ as in cock? Kind of feel a certain way now.”
Rhys pressed his lips tightly, all the while narrowing his eyes deeply troubled. Then both men turned their heads backwards to check on the deceased unnamed female Alafern.
As it oft happens in these types of confusing scraps, the woman’s body was missing and not a drop of her blood remained on the stone tiles.
Oft… eh. Whatever.
Rhys blinked, his tongue working on his bloody gums.
Well… shite.
“Right then,” Roland Edge murmured sounding impressed and sucked audibly at his worn-out teeth. Rhys had two of those still clattering inside his mouth, so he couldn’t exactly look down on the veteran at that point. “Must confess, I didn’t expect this development.”
“Yeah. Me too,” a thoughtful Rhys agreed with a shiver, his head hurting and rubbed the back of his neck to alleviate some of the stress.
A moment later Edge asked in a more casual manner. “So, do they always fight in the buff? Don’t take it the wrong way, but I couldn’t help but notice.”
Rhys grimaced, looking right and left for the missing Alafern. “She had a…ah, some sort of…ugh, and she ditched it somehow,” he was too tensed and distracted to get the words out. “… Some kind of weird shit she had on?”
“Ayup, I can see why she’ll desperately want to get rid of that,” Edge retorted sadly with a meaningful shake of his greying head. “You don’t want to carry weird shit around.”
-
> “Help…” an injured thug croaked trying to get up on an elbow, the other hand pushing his own entrails inside his torn and opened up stomach. The Baron’s straight thin blade skewered the thug’s throat once as Nattas reached him, taking care to avoid stepping in the pool of gore around the man’s body.
>
> “Baron!” Selussa hissed accusingly, stepping in front of the startled Storm, just as the latter had pivoted to walk away.
>
> Fucking hell!
>
> “He was long gone afore I reached him,” Nattas rejoined hastily in a gruff manner, adding a barely pulled-off grimace of semi-sadness. “Now, if you excuse me dear. I have to get to Sudi. We’ll talk later.”
>
> Selussa stared in his face somberly. Now had the situation had been different, the pretty Cofol’s stare would have given the Baron the fiercest of erections. He still got the starts of solid movement between the legs. Ah… that’s a partial swelling. Mmm. “Baron, I have a contract—”
>
> “Allgods darn it. Snap out of it lass,” an aroused Storm cut her off, mostly an admonishment to himself. “It was a ploy to warn you. A wink in writing for crying out loud!”
>
> “In half-truths the half-breed speaks, but truths nonetheless,” a teasing voice said and Nattas swung around to see who that bugger was, and caught sight of the small girl standing behind him. Right. “Hello. I liked how you delivered the verses,” the creature said shyly raising a small arm to wave. “I’m Flix?”
>
> What in Abrakas’ teary eye is that circus freak going on about?
>
> Storm furrowed his brows, taking a moment to examine the Gish’s face. Either that or this petite leper has everyone in a twenty meters radius infected.
>
> Then he remembered the creature in action just moments ago.
>
> The circle’s assassin? Abrakas rotten tooth!
>
> Storm sheathed his custom sword and stuck his hand out.
>
> Down… eh.
>
> “Pleased to make your acquaintance miss Flix,” Nattas said amiably like your next door politician. There, poor thing is not that bad-looking per se and it’s not her fault she stands next to Selussa’s stimulatingly lissome figure. “Know that I’ve always worked hard for your people.”
>
> Perhaps the most blatant untruth spoken out loud, in a day and night that had plenty of big ones already delivered.
>
> Day… more like biggest of the year.
>
> “Aww,” a blushing Flix gushed with a pleased grin. “Seems your reputation isn’t kind to you Baron.”
>
> “Forget reputation,” Nattas retorted readily. “Most stories are often fabricated by one’s enemies, better to trust your own eyes lass.” Storm retrieved his hand that Flix was still holding a little uncomfortable. “I’ll have to check on my friend there.”
>
> “Mmm,” Flix hummed and Nattas caught Selussa groaning in exasperation as he turned around. The Baron hobbled to where an injured Sudi stood, the lackey working a finger inside his bloody mouth, either to check on his teeth or to get more of the gore out.
>
> “Tristan?” Nattas grunted and Sudi spat a bloody blotch between his own legs annoyed.
>
> “I’ll live, thanks chief,” Sudi griped sourly.
>
> “I know,” Nattas retorted in a rigid manner. “Did he get away?”
>
> “Aye,” Sudi replied and looked about them. Men could be heard approaching from north and south. “Barclay is dead. Norton doesn’t look that well also.”
>
> Nattas turned to see what Lear Hik was doing. Young Scaro had arrived with his legionnaires in the meantime. It was a bit shocking for Storm to see the kid in legion uniform. The last time the Baron had seen late Roderick’s cousin -once removed- Santiago had been a toddler. Hearing more commotion disturbing the uncomfortable silence that had followed the ambushers getting their teeth kicked in or worse, Storm Nattas twisted about and gulped down nervously upon witnessing Sir Vel Sextus Brakis’ marines also approach marching in step.
>
> “You brought…” Sudi started and a peeved Nattas had to quickly cut him off midsentence.
>
> “I didn’t.”
>
>
>
> -
>
>
>
> “Mister Hik,” Scaro insisted. “Please step behind the shields.”
>
> “God darn it Lear,” a voice was heard behind the rows of legionnaires. “Just do what you’re told mate!”
>
> “Shut up Jack,” Lear grunted. “Could have helped a bit, you cowardly miserable scum!”
>
> “What? Ye didn’t need my help!” The unseen Jack protested evocatively. “I should have helped the poor fuckers instead!”
>
> The guards under Varus Gryllus, about twenty in number, had appeared behind the legionnaires and Nattas signaled with his head for the officer to stand down. Gryllus recognizing the scowling Baron made a comical grimace and then ordered the guards to a full stop.
>
> Just stay on your bloody fence for a while longer, Nattas thought and turned his attention to Lear’s conversation with the Decanus. Lear wanted some of the thugs interrogated.
>
> It was a good thing Storm had finished off most of them during the bedlam of the scrap.
>
> “He’s still breathing,” Lear rustled pointing at the butchered Norton. An anxious Nattas ogled his eyes to discern whether the man had any life left in him or not, just as Lieutenant Claus Dedum’s voice put a stop to the bounty hunter’s exchange.
>
> “Legionnaires. I’m Lieutenant Claus Dedum. 1st Illirium Marinus Milites corps,” Dedum said in a reasonable manner, using the archaic term, instead of ‘naval soldiers’. “We are here to assist.”
>
> “We appreciate it Lieutenant Dedum,” Decanus Scaro replied in the same tone. “But we won’t require your assistance. Mister Bulla, secure the package. Get the men moving.”
>
> “Decanus,” Dedum insisted and Nattas quickly made a head count of the two opposing forces that now stood about ten meters away from each other. Scaro was outnumbered at least two to one. “We have orders from the Admiralty to apprehend a Lear Hik upon first sight. He’s implicated in several acts of sabotage against the throne of Regia, Lesia and the provinces. A participant and the ring leader in an active conspiracy to harm the royal family.”
>
> Storm clenched his teeth, the tensed baron’s face now so distorted, parts of it hurt.
>
> “My orders are to deliver Mister Hik to the palace grounds sir,” Scaro replied standing his ground. “Safe and sound.”
>
> “Who gave the order?” Sir Vel intervened stepping forward as well.
>
> “You are?”
>
> “I’m Sir Vel Sextus-Brakis,” Vel retorted gruffly.
>
> “Director Ramirus gave the order Sir Vel.”
>
> “Decanus,” Sir Vel scolded him. “I have the Duke Admiral’s signature right here!”
>
> This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.
>
> “The First Cohort has its orders my Lord,” Scaro replied tensely, several of the men present murmuring at the impasse. “Tell your men to depart the square.”
>
> “Ah, you’re being foolish lad,” Sir Vel grunted and pressed his mouth tightly. Nattas hobbled forward and Vel saw him approach out of the corner of his eye. “Baron get him to see reason.”
>
> “I can’t in good conscience Sir Vel,” Nattas replied and planted his cane in front of him intending to rest on it his weary from all the exertion body. “You stand in the wrong side of this argument my friend.”
>
> Sir Vel eyed the Baron intently not liking the endearment. “Lord Nattas I’ve already explained to you what’s happening here.”
>
> “You did.” Nattas agreed. “But you’re in the wrong. Lear Hik has vital information pertaining to the identity of the culprit… I’m speaking of the man responsible for the former Kings assassination. It was given to mister Hik by late Laudus. The information shall make clear also, who is actually trying to sabotage the throne.”
>
> Vel glared at the sweating Baron in tensed silence. “Once again you are trying to smear my father’s name Baron,” he finally said in a hoarse voice.
>
> “You are prepared to confront legionnaires inside the King’s city. That is after waiting after dark by the gates to grab a man and toss him in a ship’s brig, when the king expects him,” Nattas retorted austerely, suddenly standing taller and on firmer ground. He also felt a sense of relief being able to speak at last without having to embellish his words or make up excuses. A rarity in his whole career in politics. “In your heart of hearts, you know these orders taste unlawful. A seasoned soldier knows when something is fishy or not as it should be. Allow me to clarify why you feel this way, Sir Vel. The orders are indeed unlawful. The information is false and misleading. Lear Hik was tasked by the King to find the culprits, and he did. You are actively working against the king’s orders and defying his authority, my good knight. You are siding with the conspirators and the mutineers who seek to overthrow his majesty.”
>
> The Illirium knight and officer blinked. Lieutenant Dedum made to move against the tensed Nattas but Sir Vel abruptly extended his good arm to stop him. “My father never conspired against King Jeremy and certainly had nothing to do with his death. My kin, Theodor Brakis was cut down during the assault Baron!”
>
> Nattas wasn’t sure if Proclus was involved or where late Theodor’s involvement ended. Lear Hik who was standing next to the Decanus was heard then.
>
> “Theodor was part of the conspiracy. Cut down by Jeremy himself according to Laudus. They had to finish him off themselves later as they were running out of time.”
>
> “How so?” Sir Vel grunted eyeing the bounty hunter.
>
> “Sir Rik De Weer’s Crows were closing in on the location,” Lear replied. “It was a close run thing in the end.”
>
> “Theodor’s involvement points a finger to the Brakis,” Storm intervened and Sir Vel glared at him. “And your family.” The Baron added.
>
> “My Lord, this is outrageous!” Dedum protested at the perceived insult and a grim-faced Sir Vel let out a grunt of anger.
>
> “My father didn’t have anything to do with King Jeremy’s murder Baron,” Sir Vel insisted raspingly trying to control himself.
>
> “Perhaps. But I never said this involved only Jeremy’s murder. I said instead Kings… for a reason Sir Vel. The same people or person if you prefer, are responsible for Alistair’s death. Theodor’s involvement implicates the Duke whether you like it or not and Laudus himself, confessed that he worked for the Admiralty for years in an unofficial capacity. Cooking the books and turning a blind eye for a modest fee as some crooks might say,” Nattas replied evenly.
>
> Sir Vel licked his lips and glanced at the soberly staring back Lear Hik. The bounty hunter had an arrow still stuck on his overcoat, now with its fletching cut off. “You have proof of this fantastical tale of yours?”
>
> Welp, he better have some proof, else I’m fucked and all this nice warm feelings, would have been for fucking naught, a scowling Nattas thought sourly.
>
> “Aye,” the completely unruffled in comparison Lear Hik had replied in an inflexible manner, as if he’d bargained with similar or higher stakes afore and the whole predicament had come as no surprise to him.
>
> Which in retrospect and given the man’s history was probably the truth.
>
> “A man that enjoys doing only one thing,” a rather baritone voice said from somewhere near him. It almost gave the recoiling Nattas a heart attack then and there, before he became aware that the little Gish had approached him yet again. Are you serious? This rascal is packing? The Baron thought squinting his eyes hard in order to penetrate Flix’s heavy makeup, only to realize that despite his age and lack of a nose, the small-bodied Gish was rather cute either way. Flix giggled at Storm’s scrutiny and elucidated on his previous point, this time in a much softer, arousing tone. “Eventually… becomes pretty good at it.”
>
> Gods damn it. She’s fucking right!
>
> He.
>
> It doesn’t fucking matter!
>
> “Thus I gaze bewildered at this square’s nigh farcical-looking, unpardonably cock-carrying wench, deliver the day’s most profound fucking epilogue!”
>
> With that piece of oratory delivered loud enough for all to hear, Nattas signaled for Sudi to knife Norton in the spleen whilst no one was looking and Flix who was, winked lewdly with a painted eye at the still mildly stupefied at the developments Baron.
>
> “Decanus Scaro,” Vel stated after a solicitous moment. “We’ll follow your men to the palace and sort this out once and for all.”
-
“They are moving,” Selussa said approaching them. “Lear and Jack are heading there. Flix and the… Baron follow them as well.”
Rhys nodded, the assassin was still concerned with the disappearance of the strange female that had attacked him.
“Are you hurt?” She asked, her voice laced with concern and wiped some of the dried up blood from his chin. “I lost you there. What happened?”
“Ah,” Rhys murmured and went to pick up his horse that had drifted near the gates and Gryllus’ sheepishly standing out of the whole affair men. Selussa came after him.
“Rhys,” she said in a sterner tone.
“I’m fine,” Rhys replied and climbed on the horse. He tended an arm for her to join him on the saddle. “An Alafern tackled me the moment I entered the square.”
“Mm. Are you sure?”
Her capacity to absorb the most disturbing news serenely, made Rhys love her so much more with each day.
“Yeah. Edge cut her down, but she disappeared right after.” Rhys turned the horse to follow after the departing rows of legionnaires. The Marines were ready to do the same. “I think she followed me through the shades.”
“You took her along, is your meaning?” Selussa queried hugging his waist and pressing her warm body on his back.
“No. The bitch found me in there and messed up my ‘walk’.” Rhys replied and glanced around them at the buildings surrounding the square as they slowly left the gates behind.
“I don’t understand.”
“I didn’t get out where I had planned and no human can travel as far as I’ve made it,” Rhys elucidated. “Or survive a long blade through the gut. Twice.”
“Is that true Roland?” Selussa asked the bounty hunter that had remained near their group and was now riding with a constipated expression on his face.
“Ayup, tits pale as snow,” Edge rejoined and sucked at his teeth, new wrinkles forming around his aged mouth.
“Tits?” Selussa asked deliberately in his ear, her whole demeanor changing.
But she could also get hanged on the tiniest of details which could be nigh infuriating.
“She did a thing… unclothed herself somehow,” Rhys grunted. “You’re jealous of an undead cunt?” He snapped aggressively.
“Nah, nothing dead about her, I reckon,” Edge intervened. “We just needed to shove some more wood in her.”
For crying out loud! Stop the blasted chatter you old goose!
“We’ll discuss of this later!” Rhys resounded to shut him up and groaned getting a mild slap on the cheek by Selussa’s open palm. “God damn it woman!”
“What?” Selussa hissed aggressively in his ear. “That was naught but a lover’s tap.”
“I’ve two missing molars right there from a similar fucking thing!” Rhys growled.
“What do you mean?” The female assassin probed deceptively calm, which called for an immediate dodge.
“Nothing!” Rhys snapped irate with himself. “I misspoke!”
-
Two hours later
Early morning
17th of Secundus
Palace of a hundred windows
The corridor leading to the King’s Hall (throne room)
“Everyone is inside,” the Baron explained nervously. “I’ll go in a moment and Sudi… Rhys as well… ah, not the Gish. Flix. Apologies dear. Remain here with Selussa. Rhys shall come inside with myself and Sudi as I said. Stay quiet in there. I’ll do the talking.”
“I want to see the King,” Selussa whispered to Rhys before he departed after the Knight escorting them and the Baron. “I’ve never seen one,” she added and Rhys thought of the man that had killed her sister now ruling in Wetull and pursed his still hurting mouth.
Ah, sweet Dar Mori-Yaule.
“You’re not missing out kitten. Kings are just another bunch of killers wearing fancy garbs,” Rhys said hoarsely in an uncharacteristic gentle moment that surprised the female assassin.
He then hurried after the hobbling Baron and his associate Lotus Sudi who pretended to limp as well like his boss. They walked down the long corridor under the watchful eyes of Regia’s former rulers, their large marble statues standing guard outside the King’s seat in their full armour and with hands resting on the pommel of a sword. Finally they paused briefly outside the guarded entrance of the throne room, before another guard there signaled for them to enter.
----------------------------------------
Rhys spotted Regia’s famed king sitting on the throne, the presence of many royal knights near him and some familiar faces. Decanus Santiago Scaro, another high-ranking Legion officer much older than him, several other officers occupying one wing of the hall and Sir Vel Sextus-Brakis with two of his officers, Dedum and Werges the other. Near the dark-skinned knight stood an older man that looked a lot like him, both in the face and skin tone, along with a bulky Lorian with grey hair and fleshy cheeks.
The Baron stopped in the gap between the two wings undecided, there were chairs available but nobody was seating down, forcing Sudi and Rhys to stop as well right behind him.
“Spare us the fanfare Storm,” Lucius said from the throne in an even voice.
“I shall strive to control myself your grace,” Nattas replied but it was obvious, the mood was too tensed for his attempt at humor. Lucius’ eyes stayed on Rhys after a brief acknowledging stare at Sudi.
“Mister Rhys Vardran is another associate of mine your grace,” the Baron elucidated.
The king nodded trying to read Rhys’ face. You’re thinking, why would our good Baron employ so many half-breeds, Rhys thought but kept his mouth shut.
“King Lucius,” the large man started with an intense look at the frowned Sir Vel and his officers. “I understand some accusations have been leveled against my person today.” The Duke had a deep baritone voice, very stirring to the ear but Rhys could sense the big-bodied man was nervous.
Rhys would be as well, in the Duke’s shoes.
“For a while now Stan,” Lucius replied turning his attention on the standing lord. The palace’s throne room was a large hall, large enough to be a temple both in size and height. The many windows illuminated the spacious interior, but still some shadows were cast by the supporting Lorian-type columns. Especially those that blocked partially the light coming from the windows. Three columns from the opening before the marble throne, on the east wall of the hall –Rhys’ right- and quite removed from the bunched up crowd watching the exchange between the King and Duke Brakis in front of him, Rhys spotted the small figure of Flix watching as well half-hidden in the shade.
About four meters away.
“The king, Flix wished to see as well,” the Gish explained in a whisper using that broken Common of his and grinned.
Gods damn it, Rhys cursed with a warning glare and clenched his jaw.
“Who was the accuser?” The Duke asked and cast a sour glance at the Baron, who shrugged his shoulders. “King Lucius, Baron Nattas is a man of poor reputation and of questionable character to put it mildly. His word is worth nothing and if someone is guilty of any crime… hah, by the gods, any crime at all, then it’s him! He had the biggest motive of all.”
“What was this great motive?” Lucius asked calmly, but Rhys noticed the tension in the King’s eyes and the lines forming on his forehead.
“I’ve spoken with you about the rumors already,” the Duke replied and Rhys heard Nattas curse the Duke’s mother not very discreetly. Lucius cast an austere glare at the seething Baron. “There, the man has a thug’s tongue and a ruffian’s mind.”
“Says the fat ruffian that had accused me first. The irony is palpable,” Nattas commented wryly. Rhys could only see the Baron’s back.
“Duke Brakis,” Lucius said not amused with the exchange between them, “I expected to hear a strong denial, yet I stand here and listen you point the finger towards the Baron. While you are both guilty to each other’s eyes in a way, no credible proof has ever surfaced for the Baron’s transgressions, but only what amounts to vile gossip. For you though Brakis,” Lucius continued pursing his mouth. “Much more has come forth lately and not from Lord Nattas’ mouth.”
“My King,” the Duke protested. “You’ll weigh my sacrifices and service to the throne… the recent assistance I provided at great personal cost against someone’s word?”
“I didn’t want to,” Lucius admitted with a grimace. “Because you have been helpful and I mourn for the loss of your son. Those that fall under Regia’s colors must be honored,” the king continued. “But I stand before all of you a son as well and someone’s brother. Sometimes we hear words, we don’t want to hear. Alas this fact doesn’t make them any less true.”
Brakis clenched his fists seemingly insulted. “King Lucius, I understand this is a thorny subject for your grace, but this man Lear Hik is wanted for crimes against Lesia nobles and women. Murder that is. He has a well-documented propensity for hideous acts against innocents and children. The man is a violent serial murderer. You are being led your grace.”
Lucius shook his head as if not disagreeing with everything the Duke had said, then turned to one of the officers near him. “Bring Lear Hik inside. Who is the other guy?”
“A certain Tracer Jack my Lord,” the officer in the blue uniform said. This serious dude must be the Director of LID, Rhys thought remembering the style as it resembled the Legion outfit Comenius Paetus had on at Storm’s Rest weeks back. “This is for you as well,” the officer added giving the King a large scroll and depositing a worn-out bag at the leg of the throne.
Lucius glanced at the large bag with pursed lips.
“What’s in the bag?” He asked the LID Director.
“Laudus sire,” the officer replied stiffly. “I checked.”
“Let me see,” Lucius said hoarsely and the officer stooped to open the bag under the loud murmurs of those present. Mostly officials and palace personnel watching from the sideways, but for the group of the main participants gathered at a small distance from the throne.
“Well then,” Nattas commented sarcastically with a backwards glance at Sudi and Rhys. “At least now we know for fucking certain what happened to him.”
Rhys watched the sober Lear Hik enter from a side door, followed by a nervous, deathly-pale Tracer Jack that looked just about ready to collapse on his feet upon spotting the small crowd waiting for them.
“Who the fuck is he?” Sudi asked Rhys and the assassin shrugged his shoulders.
“An eye-witness?”
“He wasn’t in Laudus’ crew,” Sudi hissed and brushed his thinning hair back.
“Maybe more crews were in the know?” Rhys replied indifferently and added a little curious in his rather abrupt manner. “Early balding?”
“Maja’s poison,” a discomforted Sudi grunted, pressing his vacant of teeth for the most part mouth tightly closed.
Ah.
“Here,” he told the scowling lackey after digging in his satchel, and gave him a vial of Ael’s ‘rejuvenating’ potions.
> ‘A more potent version of the healing potion’ the gorgeous sorceress had explained. ‘For girls that want to improve on certain mishaps or combat time’s attrition.’
>
> ‘What girls be that?’ Rhys had asked looking at the tiny vials and Selussa had expounded in a mirthful seemingly well-meaning manner.
>
> ‘Old.’
>
> And while Human, Gish and Zilan had found the female assassin’s jest pretty smart, with the sorceress herself joining in and tittering with them coquettishly, Rhys was the only one who got her precious vials afterwards.
“It won’t grow them teeth back,” Rhys explained while Lear Hik started telling the small audience what he had learned from Laudus. “But some of the damage to the face and the nerve endings it will heal. I had some arthritis in my right hand fingers and I fixed it.”
He raised the aforementioned hand to show Sudi the fingers. Moved them about some until some nosy old as dirt official turned to stare at them austerely.
Fuck off grandpa.
“I don’t know…” Sudi started unsure. “I had one already.”
“You had something humans make and sell to certain societies,” Rhys explained and pressed the vial in Sudi’s hand. “This was handmade by a Zilan demi-goddess. A real witch. A sip each morning can make wonders.”
“A sip?”
“Aye.”
Sudi gawked at the vial, then bit the cork off and poured its contents in his mouth greedily. With a deep sigh Rhys reached with his right arm to grasp Sudi’s shoulders, smart eyes checking about, and when Sudi fainted, the assassin kept him upright and steady of sorts on his rubbery feet.
People really have serious trouble following instructions. Rhys thought, feeling that strange headache’s return, now even more amplified and that buzzing almost forming words.
-
> “Who was Laudus taking instructions from?” Lucius asked gravely. Lear has told him already, Nattas thought. God damn it son, the North returned us a finished fucking product to rule Regia. “He kept feeding my father misleading information about the naval projects and construction progress for years.”
>
> “Theodor Brakis,” Lear replied. “Was the one who made the payments and the bank released his accounts to us, but it was all done this way in order to protect the Duke. Lord Sissena was behind the whole scheme, as one can read also in the papers Manuela’s people have provided and what I found in Laudus’ possession. The Bank’s trade company had a ten year agreement to use Illirium’s facilities and markets in exchange for funding up to seventy percent of the whole project. Nine of the thirteen warships.”
>
> “Lesia built us a fleet,” Lucius commented bitterly and stared at the seething Duke Brakis and his distant kin Lord Proclus. “All it took was my father’s life.”
>
> “My lord,” Proclus Sextus-Brakis protested. “No one here has ever considered harming King Alistair! There were suggestions… to pursue a more aggressive stance but not to that extent! I reject the accusation outright your grace, a disagreement in naval policy doesn’t make one a murderer or traitor!” Proclus stared at his gloomy son embarrassed. “I was never a part of any conspiracy against the king. You have to believe me Vel.”
>
> “Lying to your king is a conspiracy unto itself,” Lucius said and grasped at the armrests tightly with both hands. “One could forgive it if it stayed thus or if it was just a financial mishap, but it didn’t and it wasn’t.”
>
> Nattas furrowed his brows. You got to be more lenient than that lad.
>
> Folk lie all the fucking time!
>
> “My liege! I swear on my wife’s grave!” Proclus grunted hoarsely and turned to the sullen Duke. “Stan for the love of god. Say something!”
>
> “Ursus man went ahead with it,” Duke Brakis rustled. “Greedy fool wanted some of what Laudus had, and a bigger role in the army.”
>
> “Then Ursus is to blame!” Proclus growled at the Duke.
>
> Nattas glanced at Lucius and then at the fearful Tracer Jack. The Duke was staring at the bounty hunter’s companion as well.
>
> “All Laudus’ orders came from the Duke,” Lear declared neutrally. “Laudus refused to act without assurances for his future.”
>
> “What?” Proclus snapped under the loud gasps of those present, the shocked participants slowly turning unruly.
>
> “It is standard policy for the Bank of Trust,” Lear continued in his unbiased manner. “Where I worked for almost twenty years, to actively protect its contracts, safeguard its deals and their participants with a ‘protective net’,” he glanced at the sweating Jack. “The bank’s assets were present in force near Laudus and they knew where he was all along. They were there to protect Duke Brakis and not the already imprisoned Duke Ursus. Because the Bank knows where all roads lead. Jack can attest to that. Eleonora D’Orsi could also but she’s not around anymore. What she told me was the same thing Laudus confessed and Jack knows. Later, when it became obvious that Queen Janneke had great influence not only to Jeremy, but her brother Sir Rik De Weer and through the kids to the Old Crow himself, at a great surprise for all I must add, the fear of an outside intervention became too grave to ignore.”
>
> “Why turn against Jeremy?” Lucius asked raspingly, his face distorted in the attempt to safeguard the dignity of the throne.
>
> Proclus stood back as if unable to comprehend the King’s query. Duke Brakis smacked his lips and glanced at the men Sir Vel had brought with him, then at the king’s knights.
>
> “They never supported him. Perhaps Doris was for the young prince and Miranda, but no one else,” Nattas intervened to prevent the Duke from turning this into a mayhem. “They didn’t want the civil war to drag on for another year or two. Other plans were afoot.”
>
> Duke Brakis glared at Storm and then glanced at the grim-faced ‘Black Trident’ sourly.
>
> “I’m disappointed in you lad,” the Admiral scolded Proclus’ son. “You’re not ruler material.”
>
> “Neither are you Stan,” Lucius grunted from the throne. “I’ll give Sir Vel a pass since he didn’t have any authority in all this, but your actions are inexcusable. You betrayed my father and then you betrayed my brother. Greedy for more, you stood back to allow them to get murdered or outright gave the order to cut them down yourself!” Lucius pushed himself up and then raised his clenched fist briefly, before lowering it. The king had crumbled the scrolls he was reading earlier. “For what?” He lowered his eyes at the stack of reports the Bank had sent him, Mclean & Merck ever negotiating for more favorable terms and looking for the next partner or profitable deal. “Control of a sea trade route?”
>
> Nattas narrowed his eyes alarmed.
>
> “Jelin is devastated by constant wars,” Brakis replied in his rousing voice for all to hear. “Poverty and diseases are spreading. At some point you won’t be able to recruit or support more soldiers in the army Lucius. Unrest will follow as the citizens will have to seek other employment. A big Navy can provide that but it needs funds to operate. Be aware that the riches of the west continent will eventually buy us out even if the Khan loses the war. They are moving faster than us and that impostor in Goras is pulling the strings. If the Lords of Eplas cease control of the Scalding Sea, then the Lorian Kingdoms shall turn gradually even poorer. Kaltha can’t survive and we likely can’t either. Inaction shall bring Imperial banners to our shores!”
>
> “Stop with the fear-mongering! Regia can sustain itself and this is a big continent,” Lucius replied tensely. “No one can control the vastness of the South Seas and ten warships are not enough to protect the trade routes Stan. There are pirate lairs at every reef in between and no friendly ports at the other end of it. D’Orsi tried and I understand he failed. His whole command presumed lost or dead.”
>
> “The imperials could at some point and now they have a new Monarch. Rather friendly with Elsanne who controls the pirate fleets already your grace,” Brakis argued. “We talked of this matter earlier this month and you promised me you’ll consider it.”
>
> “I said I’ll look into the matter. You have imagined the rest Stan. Your suggestion calls for conquering lands from distant peoples without provocation. Are we adhering to civilized rules only when our adversaries are weak? And what shall we do with these hapless creatures afterwards? Don’t they have a soul? Are they not human-like and non-threatening? Do their perceived grave deficiencies, even if they are real, not call for us to show our preeminence and superiority with nobler actions? Do we behave as Imperials and adopt their bigoted logic? How about we do as the Khanate does eh? What then? Have them work the fields and dig in the mines? Praised be the Five, we are blasted Lorians! We fight our wars ourselves and work the land with our own hands! You are obsessed Stan. A King rules these lands,” Lucius spat angrily, a tick making the right side of his mouth raise. “He’s the one who’ll decide on policy Admiral and he’s not to be cut down if his decisions are not to your liking!”
>
> A frowned Brakis stood back, his fleshy cheeks quivering with rage.
>
> “Ursus was greedy for more,” Lucius continued hoarsely looking at the small crowd listening to his words in silence. “But Duke Brakis disguised his cruelty and ruthlessness with a veneer of fake righteousness, hidden under a grandiose plan for all. He behaved like an evil monarch, but a monarch he’s not. A king you are not. What you are is a cold-blooded murderer, a kingslayer twice. You are so corrupted Stan you were about to do it again, weren’t you?” Lucius eyed the sober-faced girthy Duke coldly. “All you needed was another chance. Another fall guy. I shan’t offer you another opportunity to harm my family Duke Brakis. Your scheming ends today. Take him away. To the dungeons where he belongs. You are a Duke no more,” Lucius paused and pursed his mouth. “I shall think about your fate after I clear out this mess.”
>
> The grimacing Duke Brakis was immediately surrounded by royal Knights and Sir Vel’s officers didn’t even attempt to intervene. Lucius waited for the obese Lord to be walked out of the hall and then turned to Lord Proclus.
>
> “My Lord I surrender my sword to your grace’s mercy,” Proclus said solemnly.
>
> “You won’t take over for Stan, Lord Proclus,” Lucius declared evenly.
>
> “I understand that your grace,” Proclus replied a little relieved for not getting a heavier punishment.
>
> “Neither will your son,” Lucius continued and Nattas glanced at the Illirium knight still standing in silence with his officers. “Young Ethan shall be the next Duke of Illirium for I’m certain he’s completely innocent in all this.”
>
> “I’d like the opportunity to clear my name,” Sir Vel rustled and Lucius stared at the affronted knight. “In the field your grace. Let the gods decide if your words hold merit!”
>
> Oh, for Abrakas phallus-shaped tentacle!
>
> “Your request is denied. To fight a king is an honor I shan’t grant you!” Lucius retorted much to a snarling Vel’s vehemence.
>
> “Sir Vel wasn’t part of the conspiracy King Lucius,” Nattas said and cleared his throat, seeing everyone now had turned to look at him. “He conducted himself with honor, despite being tethered with dubious orders. He could have prevented Mister Hik from reaching the palace but opted to do the right thing.”
>
> Lucius raised his brows unsure. “You’ll defend them Storm?”
>
> “My Lord,” Nattas replied assuming the humblest of expressions, now seeing the door cracking open and the ladder to new heights, peeking from the crack like a blushing but aroused maiden in her wedding night. “It is not in my best interests, as I’m evidently not well-liked in Illirium, but everyone knows that Lord Nattas always strived to do the right thing, even when it was nigh inconvenient for his person.”
>
> The King of Regia walked back to his throne and sat down. “You’ll vouch for Sir Vel?”
>
> “I will your grace. The man’s a hero. Regia needs its heroes,” Nattas replied readily.
>
> ‘Don’t go overboard,’ Sudi whispered behind his back. ‘That’s enough.’
>
> “Very well then,” Lucius agreed and nodded at the numb Vel Sextus-Brakis. “The Knight is cleared of any wrongdoing. But you still won’t get a rematch Sir Vel,” he added with a weary-smile to break some of the tension, the light-hearted meaning behind the king’s words almost lost for many of the throne room’s bystanders. Several of them clapped and cheered at the just ruling and gradually more joined to show their appreciation and love for the king in such a trying day.
>
> “Valiant King Lucius, if I can steal some of your time,” Nattas started after some of the loud cheers subsided and Lucius turned to face Storm, as if he had expected the Baron’s query. The king speaking afore Nattas had the time to continue.
>
> “I want the vile epidemic stopped before it spreads up and down the coast and the matter of Novesium solved decisively Storm,” Lucius said without mincing his words. “Can you do it?”
>
> ‘No’, an unnerved Sudi whispered behind Nattas unwilling to take the risk.
>
> “Absolutely your grace,” Storm Nattas immediately replied in a resounding manner. “Auspiciously, I’ve worked tirelessly these past weeks to have a plan ready.”
>
> “Good,” Lucius replied, sounding satisfied by the Baron’s answer and seemingly earnest fervor. “Then Novesium has a new Governor.”
>
>
-
> Inside the tensed throne room Lord Storm Nattas had gasped audibly, eyes gawking unsure at first and when the King’s words registered, the good Baron… ah wait, let us just halt right here to add more proper context… the Governor of Novesium, genuflected dramatically before the throne, his cane clattering on the stone tiles. The sudden action shocked those present and forced the amused Lucius to stand shaking his royal mane, walk near the overwhelmed –rumored to be half-sobbing- Governor and help him to his weakened feet.
>
> For a brief moment in time inside that throne room, Lord Storm Nattas’ dubious past was forgotten and the deeply-moved former Baron, now stood respected and beloved by all, in the king’s warm embrace.
-
> Lord Sirio Veturius
>
> Circa 206 NC
>
> The Fall of Heroes
>
> Chapter IV**
>
> Lord Storm Nattas,
>
> Governor of Novesium, Lord of Moon’s Haven & the Turtle Isles.
>
> Former Queen’s Shield, former Regia’s Master of Silence
>
> -The price of desire-
>
> ----------------------------------------
>
> *(Unreleased, Sirio’s original text)
>
> **Only present in the original manuscript and one specially-ordered copy now kept inside Tenebrous Castle in Goras
>
>