Chapter 14

20 August 149 Third Age

Three days had come and gone since the order to hunt the two fugitives was issued. The fort buzzed with relentless activity as Captain Foeham orchestrated continuous patrols. Soldiers came and went in a seemingly never-ending cycle, their faces marked by fatigue. Yet, with each returning patrol, there was no news of the elusive women they sought.

Confined to the fort by his injury and Alaina’s incessant persistence on his recovery, Lord Carrack could do little more than watch and wait. But his concern for his men, combined with an insatiable appetite for updates, found him braving the rain, stationed atop the gate. From there, he surveyed the city, eyes ever vigilant for any hint of unexpected happenings.

Each report that returned without a trace of success gnawed at him, but what worried him more was the absence of his second-in-command. Captain Foeham had vowed not to return until their mission was complete or deemed an impossible pursuit. Though Carrack’s every instinct screamed at him to summon Foeham back for a much-needed rest, he curbed the impulse. He had placed his trust in Foeham’s judgement and would let him see the task through.

The rhythmic drumming of rain on Carrack’s hood was interrupted only by the occasional roll of thunder overhead. Drops cascaded off the brim, yet he remained transfixed by the city below. It was only the sound of a raspy cough that broke his reverie. Loreman Weiss, with his advanced years seeming even more pronounced in the harsh elements, made his way slowly up the stairs. His steps, a mixture of shuffles and hobbles, carried the weight of many years. Clad in an oversized rain cloak, Weiss extended a hand, offering two steaming cups to Carrack.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” Carrack mused with a smile, shaking water from his face. “The esteemed Mr. Loreman Weiss, delivering drinks in this downpour. It’s as if I truly am lordly.”

Weiss merely huffed, thrusting a cup into Carrack’s grasp. “Here.”

Peering into the cup, Carrack noted its peculiar green hue and the earthy aroma it exuded. “What have we here?”

“I believe it’s tea,” Weiss replied, positioning himself beside Carrack and leaning against the wall’s edge. “The witch insisted you have it. Said something about preventing you from falling ill in this weather.”

A frown creased Carrack’s brow at Weiss’s deliberate choice of descriptor. “You’d do well to keep such names to yourself, especially around her.”

Weiss feigned innocence. “What?”

“You know exactly what,” Carrack admonished wearily. “Keep that talk up, she’ll probably turn you into a frog. And if that time comes, don’t expect me to intervene.” He paused, scrutinizing Weiss’s cup. “Why did she hand one to you?”

Weiss took a tentative sip, shrugging. “Not sure. Likely intended it for herself but reconsidered once she saw me headed this way. I would hardly believe it wasn’t out of concern for my well-being.”

“You sell her short,” Carrack mused. “She may not particularly like you, but she’s not one to neglect a person’s welfare. It’s just not in her nature.”

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“And perhaps you’re a bit too trusting,” Weiss shot back. “‘Mages’ or ‘witches’, as I like to call them, they’re not trustworthy.”

Carrack chuckled, though without much humor. “Weiss, you’ve been distrusting of them for as long as I’ve known you. It’s a miracle you managed to work in the Senate for so long without stumbling upon the bad side of a mage.”

“Those mages didn’t dare skulk around the Senate,” Weiss stated, the pride evident in his tone.

Carrack raised an eyebrow. “Truly? You believe none of them were present, mingling right under your vigilant watch?”

“The laws forbid them from nearing power corridors and influential men,” Weiss pointed out. “For good reasons, might I add. Because of the incident with Fulcrum—”

Carrack waved him off. “I’m well-aware of the history. The Senate might’ve been dull, but their libraries weren’t. Yet, it’s naive to think that some haven’t infiltrated, operating in secrecy.”

Weiss grunted, changing tack. “If they dare, the risks are on them. But enough about mages.’” His face turned stern. “One of Franzen’s contacts came around.”

Carrack’s hand shot out, gesturing for silence. He glanced around, ensuring they were unobserved before nodding for Weiss to continue.

“He’s growing wary of Foeham’s maneuvers. While Foeham’s respected their boundaries, he’s toeing the line.”

“And? Did you manage to soothe their concerns?” Carrack inquired, taking a sip of his tea.

“I gave them our usual assurances,” Weiss responded. “They’d be more reassured hearing it straight from you.”

“That’s not possible.” Carrack’s tone was firm.

“Then perhaps supervise Foeham yourself,” Weiss proposed.

“I’d be down there in a heartbeat if I could,” Carrack sighed, gesturing toward his leg. “But I rather not to infection or a permanent limp.”

Weiss’s shoulders slumped, a rare sign of vulnerability. “This situation … It’s just …” Words escaped him as he stared out at the rain-soaked city.

“I know,” Carrack murmured in agreement.

Weiss began hesitantly, “What you witnessed out there—”

“I’d rather not discuss it.”

Taking a deep breath, Weiss tried again, “It’s just …” He shuddered involuntarily, not just from the cold. “Unnatural, even for desperate people. I’ve seen my fair share of desperation, at least in my reading of history and news, but never such malicious things.”

“People have always eaten people,” Carrack stated, his voice devoid of emotion.

“You’re not wrong there, but this feels different—just hearing about it carried a different weight to it.” Weiss struggled for words, his gaze distant. “It’s like you’re telling me how bad a meal was, but I can smell it on your breath too. A less than apt metaphor, I know, but it’s hard for me to describe.”

Carrack paused, the weight of his memories pressing down. “When I was there, at the bathhouse, it felt …” Another shudder, more profound than before, raced down his spine. “Inherently evil.”

“You brought up Lady Matilda during your investigation,” Weiss said. “Considering recent events, perhaps she’s worth a second visit?”

Carrack grumbled at the mere mention, though he couldn’t deny the logic. “Lady Matilda does have an uncanny sense of the city’s pulse. True to her God, she always listens.”

“She’s the island’s last remaining priest,” Weiss said, implying more than he voiced. “Or at the very least, still practicing.”

“You think she had a hand in the horrors at the bathhouse? A cult, you suppose?” Carrack’s voice hardened with suspicion.

“I won’t deny that the thought of cult activity crossed my mind. But Lady Matilda and her unusual following? No, I don’t see them in that light,” Weiss said.

Carrack took a thoughtful sip from his tea. “Given your usual mistrust, why are you convinced of her innocence?”

Weiss shot him an incredulous look. “You, of all people, should know!”

“Right to the bathhouse,” Carrack acknowledged, a shadow crossing his face.

“She led you right to the bathhouse, that’s right.” Weiss reiterated. “No sense in sending the authorities to the scene of the crime.”

“No,” Carrack inhaled deeply, his next thoughts weighing heavily on him. “No, there isn’t. I suppose I should probably ask her directly about the grisly acts we’ve witnessed. Maybe she knows something about it already. Afterall, she rarely divulges anything without directly asking about it.”

“I can see the apprehension in your eyes,” Weiss noted. “You dread meeting her again.”

“More than you know,” Carrack murmured.