* FAMILIAR HAZE

A thick fog shrouded the coast of Port Romance in a cloud of white that even the sharpest of eyes and brightest of torches could not penetrate. Aichlan tousled his damp ebon hair, now hanging limply to his shoulders, and cast his dull blue eyes over the makeshift camp. The four larger ships under Admiral Donnelyn’s command made port and sent out a report of flares, but to no great surprise, they went unanswered. The crew finally opted to ferry the army to shore on landing craft and the pleasure vessels with shallow hulls, leaving the larger galleons and freighter in the bay. The event lasted most of the day; all the while, the fog hovered around them like smoke from a great forest fire. With a team ashore to operate the beacons and clear the docks of dusk spawn, the larger ships eventually received guidance to their berths, and the monumental task of unloading gear and mounts was underway.

A makeshift camp was set up in the desolate docks, blood stained a few piers and storehouses, but the absence of actual corpses proved most unsettling. Providentially, the warehouses along the piers were still full of supplies, from grain and spices to cloth and ingots of various metals. The port appeared to have been hastily abandoned within the past month or so. They worked well into the night securing the perimeter and clearing out the various buildings for a semi-permanent camp. It was unknown whether this was an isolated incident or if all of Duvachellé had suffered the same cryptic fate.

By morning, the fog had yet to abate, and in fact seemed thicker than it was the previous day. The dozen or so members of the smithing union that accompanied the army commandeered the local blacksmiths workshops and began the process of outfitting -and refitting- the steadily growing militia. The wounded were taken to one of the storehouses to finish convalescing and several sailors had gathered some nets to provide the army with some much-craved protein.

Aichlan had sent forth two scouting parties to survey the immediate area, though nearly eight hours later, and he still heard no word back. Darkness had long ago shrouded the port and the option of sending another party after them was distasteful at best.

“The Brothers of the Rising sun are at your whim should you require us Grand Master.”

Aichlan turned from his thoughts in surprise at the formal way in which he was addressed. He looked down upon the thin, balding monk; his face was almost cherubic with rosy cheeks and a childlike smile.

“Thank you, Brother…”

“It is Brother Ravel my Lord.” The monk bowed making the sign of The Dawn with his hands. “Is there anything else I can do to assist you my Lord?”

“Yes, where is the Cardinal?”

“Ah, Her Eminence is in a private conference with The Priestess’ staff and a Brother Rassvette of Thiudoricus.”

“Is he the stowaway?”

“Yes, my Lord, from my understanding, the information he has presented put the lady Cardinal in a rather foul state of mind.”

“Hmm. That is all Brother Ravel.” Aichlan said with a brusque wave. “Go in the light.”

The monk bowed again before departing, leaving Aichlan with more troubling thoughts to sift through. He furrowed his brow in frustration, something would have to be done regarding the missing scout parties, and the news about Clarissa having private conferences with his enemies was cause for concern. He still hadn’t been able to confront Lucien regarding the monk and the two Aes Sidhean Hillman he had hired; it was imperative that he do so before he had a chance to pervert Clarissa with his own spin of the events.

Aichlan’s spirts lifted considerably as Ashe approached. Still clad in a little more than fur brassiere, baggy canvas trousers and leather blacksmith's apron. To the unaccustomed, the numerous tattoos around her arms and torso, and the gratuitous piercings would have been off putting; to Aichlan, she looked all the part a divine goddess. Her skin had lost a bit of its amber hue given the dreary weather of northern Runandia, but looked fuller, though he struggled to define how or what that meant. She still had the physical perfection of one carved from marble by skilled artisan, or plucked from a painting of an Elysian master.

Ashe leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. “Aichlan love, ye seen Eth ‘round anywhere?”

“Afraid I haven’t, you feeling better then?”

“As well as I can…” Ashe looked away guiltily as she trailed off. “given the circumstances.”

“I’m sorry? I didn’t catch that last part.”

She smiled and waved in dismissal. “Oh, nothing. I just need to measure him if I’m going to make him a new sword is all. I’ve only so much black diamond to work with…”

Aichlan cast a doubtful eye in her direction. “Black diamonds?”

“Aye,” Ashe said, giving him a playful tap. “that’s what his family mined for generations. Its primary use is in weapons and whatever those mages in Asketill want it for. It’s not particularly pretty to look at, most likely why ya haven’t heard of it.”

“That’s a matter fer debate I’d say.” Eth slapped Aichlan on the back as he approached. “An’ I’m ‘bout a hand under two meters.”

Even as the nights had begun to bring frosts, Eth still refused a shirt or jacket, wearing his scars and ink as a badge of office and pride.

“Great, thanks Eth. I’ll get right on it then; see me about it in the mornin’.”

She started to jog over to the nearest smithy, but stopped and turned back. “We are going to be here in the morning, aren’t we?”

Aichlan sighed and stared off into the direction of where the scout parties should be returning. “Tentatively, yes, but be prepared for a battle, whatever is keeping our advance party from returning will most likely have to be dealt with beforehand.”

“Ye wanna set oot now as moons rise?” Eth cracked his knuckles and rolled his shoulders in preparation.

“If you must, but I suggest it wait until after you hear what I ‘ave to say.” Clarissa said breathlessly as she ran over. “It is imperative dzat you stay for dzis Lord Aichlan.”

Aichlan massaged his temples as the stress of multiple priorities ate away at his concentration. “I can’t just leave them out there all night.”

“Send me then.” Eth interjected enthusiastically.

“No Eth, you don’t even ‘ave a weapon!” Clarissa quickly objected.

“Daen’t need nae weapon,” Eth flexed his arms. “Got me weapons richt ‘ere.”

Clarissa slapped Eth in the arm with the excess material of her sleeve. She had taken up the traditional garb of her office, a long flowing cassock of silk in deepest crimson and ivory white pellegrina with red trim. Whereas such garments were usually large and flowing, her’s had been tailored to cling to her svelte silhouette and prominent curves. Aichlan cleared his throat and forced himself to maintain eye contact, with some embarrassment, hoping she did not notice his staring. Her hair was still an absurd shade of bright pink, with tight curls and ribbons more becoming of a socialite or young noblewoman, not a Cardinal. He wondered who made it for her and with what material, even during these hectic times, he could not recall the woman wearing the same outfit more than twice. No doubt, she commissioned someone to be her tailor.

“Besides,” Clarissa said with a flip of her hair, “as second in command, you need to be present as well.”

“She’s right.” Aichlan teased.

“An’ oor people are still lost in that city, General.” Eth grumbled.

Aichlan took a seat upon a nearby crate as he tried to think of a suitable person to lead the search and possible rescue operation. He was unwilling to send Enyo again, lest she burn down the whole city. Fiora and Alice were available, but he was not sure whom to send with them. Moreover, what about Maleah’s unit? Mounted troops were much better suited for transporting the wounded, yet he still could not shake his reservations about them.

Ransom ambled over to the group; the cherry of his cigarette illuminated and shadowed his face sinisterly beneath his hood. “I’d like a go at it.”

There was something unsettling about the man’s gaunt face and seedy eyes, and despite having fought by the rogue’s side for the past few months, Aichlan found himself instinctually reaching for his blade each time they crossed paths.

“I kinda grew up here, at one point…” He ashed his cigarette and leaned against a lamppost. “I still remember the streets, unless the city changed that significantly in my absence. I doubt it though. Nothing changes here…” He exhaled and shifted his weight.

“We still don’t have money to pay you; this is a volunteer army at the moment.” Aichlan replied cautiously, he was still uncertain about the man, his sudden altruism only served to add to his misgivings.

“Do you still think so little of me?” Ransom held his hand to his heart in feigned injury.

“Yes.” Clarissa stated dryly as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Just let me pick a team and we’ll be off and back again before dawn.” He pointed his cigarette off in the direction the scout parties left in. “If they went off that way, there are only three routes they coulda taken, and they all let out at the same place.”

Aichlan paused to think of his alternatives, could see few if any. Ransom was skilled, and if anyone could find and bring back the missing scout party, it would be him. His only concern really was what the man’s end game was. He knew his only option would be to agree yet did not want to bear the weight of that decision alone. If he were to ask Clarissa, her answer would be more than a little biased.

“Eth, what do you think?”

“Whit are ye askin’ me fer? Yer the man in charge here!”

“Some help you are… Alright.” Aichlan looked up trying to gauge the position of the moon Aurum, but to no avail. “Damn it. Who is it you want to take with you?”

“I’ll need a Colby-Nau, Fiora, that big guy from the bar—”

“Who, Madden?” Aichlan nodded to Clarissa to take note of his choices.

“Yeah, that guy, a member of The Order that she hasn’t perverted yet—”

“All I did was tell zee truth. It’s not my fault you’re a scoundrel.” Clarissa retorted as she jotted down the names on a pocket ledger.

“Enough.” Aichlan held up his hands to halt any further bickering. “Take Emma, is acceptable Cardinal?”

“I feel ‘er talents could be put to better use, but aside from dzat I 'ave no complaints. However…”

“However what Cardinal?” Aichlan asked a bit exasperated.

“Fiora ‘as made it clear to me and others that she does not particularly care for Ransom, or zee Pirates we’ve aligned with for dzat matter. Confidentiality prevents me from expounding furdzer, suffice to say ‘er reasons are legitimate.”

Ransom rolled his eyes. “I’m a lot of things lady, but no rapist.”

Clarissa pursed her glossed lips in a tight smile. “I’d be ‘appy to take you at your word, ‘ad you not already proven yourself a scoundrel.”

Aichlan pinched the bridge of his nose and dragged his hand down his face. Dealing with them was like dealing with children. While he was aware that Fiora went through an ordeal of some sort in Nole, he didn’t have the luxury of allowing her to pick and choose her commanders.

“Fine,” Aichlan said, throwing his hands down in exasperation, “take Emarosa, Fiora will go if ordered, just don’t let Alice get wind of this. I don’t need her traipsing off into the unknown as well.”

Ransom nodded and took a hit from his cigarette. “I’ll take the Xanavien siblings and Taryn as well. That should be good.”

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“Very well. Go get your team ready.” Aichlan said, wanting to be done with it already. “Eth, who will be his Colby-Nau teammate?”

“Uuhhh….” He looked around, before finding his mark with a mischievous grin. “Oi! Órfhlaith!”

Órfhlaith looked up from her task to squint through the murky fog. “Yeah? Whadda ye want?”

Eth gave her a toothy grin. “Got a mission fer ye is all.”

“Oh yeah? Well toss off, I daen’t wan’ it.”

“Órfhlaith, it’s an order. Please.” Aichlan pleaded as she made her way over.

Órfhlaith brushed her hair from her face as she approached, looking over the cluster of commanders and seconds in command that had congregated. Her body length hair was bundled up and tied in a wide bow, pinned by golden barrettes, following her theme of being the former owner of Rhodes largest gold mine. She approached with a skeptical look on her face, her silk peplos clung damply to her full hips, she made no pretense of being anything other than a politician, not even carrying a weapon. Aichlan himself was curious as to why Eth chose her for this mission, most likely because she was the first person he saw. He only hoped she was suited for the task. Judging by her affluent manner of dress, she would be more comfortable in Clarissa’s circles.

“Oh. Thought it ‘twas just Eth bein’ Eth again. What’s goin’ on?”

“Our scout team is long overdue.” Aichlan explained. “Ransom wants to go out and search for them.”

She placed her hands upon her hips. “And why the hell’d ya pick me?”

“Cuz you seem least likely to go around torching everything in sight.” Ransom flicked his spent cigarette and he exhaled a cloud of smoke.

“Ye mustn’t know me too well then, I’m nae a fighter, but I’ll go.” She shifted her weight to the opposite leg, looking from Eth to Aichlan then back to Eth. “If that’s what ye really want.”

“I think not.”

They spun around as Donough approached, carrying his massive sword on his shoulder and outfitted for battle. He wore a battered gold pauldron and gleaming silver manica on his sword arm, with his baggy trousers tucked into a pair of leather greaves. His dreadlock Mohawk was pulled back and tied, his goatee braided.

Órfhlaith scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, if he wants tae go so badly, now I hafta.”

“I 've spent too long immobile oon a vessel; I wish tae” Donough smiled, the act causing Aichlan to shudder “…stretch me legs.”

Aichlan smiled, slightly intimidated by the connotations of what he said. “Of course, Ransom?”

Ransom nearly jumped out of his skin. “No complaints from me.”

“Good, now that that’s all settled, Ransom: go get your team ready, let Órfhlaith here know when you leave, but leave as soon as you are able.” Aichlan paused, turning back to look him in the eyes for emphasis. “And don’t tell Alice.”

Ransom mimed zipping his lips, though Aichlan knew that the young mage would find her way into his ranks regardless. While he knew he could not shelter her forever, he at least had to try. They had come too far for something to happen to her now.

“Am I secretary now?” Órfhlaith asked irreverently.

“Yes. As for you,” Aichlan turned his attention to Clarissa. “What is it that you found so important?”

“I believe it would be better if we discuss dzis in private.”

He had expected as much; no doubt Lucien would be there to greet them. “Hmm. Very well then, lead on.”

* * *

The Order had chosen the home and offices of some wealthy merchant for their headquarters in the Port of Romance, not surprising to Aichlan, but irritating, nonetheless. It did not seem to matter the circumstances, The Order always sought to differentiate itself from the masses with grand displays of opulence and wealth. Though Clarissa was often shallow and preoccupied with things of elegance and beauty, he did not doubt the true mastermind in the choosing of the location.

“Bishop Lucien, I see you’ve made yourself comfortable.” Aichlan sang in mock surprise and enthusiasm.

Lucien sneered as he dismissed his servant; he leaned back in his high-backed leather reclining chair, motioning for the group to take a seat upon equally cushy couches and chairs around the former owner’s mahogany desk. The office appeared to have once belonged to a trading company’s owner, nautical symbols and designs adorned the wood panel walls. The furniture was sturdy and had the faint smell of mold and sea salt. Aichlan and Eth took seats upon a large, cushioned sofa, before them was a silver platter of various edibles. Aichlan picked up one of the Duvachellian confectionaries, sniffing it before taking a bite. It was remarkably still fresh, no doubt they had found an icebox somewhere on the premises.

“Refreshments Lady Cardinal?” Lucien smiled.

His faux sincerity caused Aichlan to feel slightly nauseous as another servant entered with a tray of wine and cheeses.

“Yes, thank you Bishop.” Clarissa replied, oblivious to his contempt-laced tones, or perhaps she did not care so long as the result was the same. “But I do believe you are in my seat.”

Lucien’s smile faltered as his eyebrow twitched in agitation. “Oh, but of course Lady Cardinal, my apologies.”

Lucien pulled the chair out and Clarissa took a seat. He gritted his teeth and bared his pearly whites as he pushed it in for her again.

“None needed; I must thank you for keeping it warm. Leather can be so stiff and cold in weather such as this.” She replied slyly.

“Yes, quite so…”

As Aichlan pondered where The Order had found fresh cheese, the stowaway monk and several other officials from Priestess Renata’s court entered the room to take seats and refreshments.

“Ahem.” Clarissa cleared her throat as the monk reached for a goblet of wine.

“Actually, just water for me please.” He smiled sheepishly in response.

“Brother Rassvete is serving penance for his overindulgence in the fermented drinks. Isn’t that right brother Rassvete?”

“Yes, Your Eminence.” He bowed his head and looked away under her hard gaze.

Aichlan smiled to himself, if only he knew whom it was who was punishing him. Clarissa had spent most of the voyage inebriated, carousing with the pirates and elves in the lower decks. She had a mouth of a sailor and made no secret her love of the drink. This poor monk was only guilty of getting drunk when all else seemed hopeless.

“If it is all the same to you Cardinal, I’d like to get straight to the issue at hand and why my presence was deemed so necessary at this moment.” Aichlan began, abstaining from drink as well.

“Ah yes, the missing scouts. A great misfortune indeed.” Lucien picked at the tray of hor’dourves with his chubby, ringed, stub like fingers. “But in the face of what we have just learned, it is insignificant. Indeed, this entire operation may be a fruitless endeavor.”

“What Bishop Lucien suggests Lord Aichlan,” Clarissa interrupted, sensing the hostility and rising tensions. “Is that the situation is far more dismal than we ever suspected. We know that the creatures of Dusk that have spread escaped their imprisonment due in part to Osric opening the Black Gate.”

“In part?” Aichlan was under the impression that the whole thing was Osric’s fault.

“Yes, Osric’s control over the beasts is limited, limited to those he managed to dominate, either by killing their leader or some other means. But the ranks of the Dusk have many such leaders and the like. Those demons roam as they please.”

“Needless to say, this complicates things severely.” One of Lucien’s underlings added, Aichlan did not know nor care his name.

“How so?” Aichlan demanded irritably. “Is that not what his army does as is?”

“Not exactly.” Rassvete began unsteadily. “His forces are being used as an army would; they march where he directs them and act out his will. They are manageable and organized, however the others are as roaming beast. The more dangerous ones have taken to attacking human populations. As we crossed through Sorn, we saw this devastation firsthand. And if I am correct, Osric and Maleah were already en route to Vergas whilst I and my companions were sent on various wild goose chases.”

“Wait, you were in Sorn recently?” Aichlan sat upright, startling the man with his sudden movement.

“Um, yes Grandmaster, though I don’t exactly know what you mean by recently…”

“How fares the Sorn army? What of the capitol? Is it true that Osric bypassed most of the region in his haste to Therion? If we can rendezvous…”

“I am afraid Sorn is fallen Aichlan.” Clarissa interrupted before he got his hopes built too high. “Osric’s Xanavien army all but decimated the Sorn military; the emissaries of Dusk finished the task. With our movements and the general disorder of The Order, we have no way of knowing if there are any survivors at all.”

“Which leads to our next point,” Lucien smacked irksomely upon the food as if unfazed by the tragedy. “With the fall of Sorn, Laelianus evacuated all border cities and garrisons to reinforce the capitol at Marquez.”

It was not in fact a terrible tactic, the city of Marquez had great defensive structures in place, and a fort or castle is notoriously easier to defend than an expanse of land such as a border. With the city’s proximity to a fresh water source, it would be difficult to starve them out in a siege. Moreover, if all else failed they could flee via the Silver Lake into Alfheim or the Gojira mountains to the north. If Aichlan did not remember Duke Laelianus as such a prick, he might praise the man.

“Unfortunately, he wasn’t expecting an attack to come from every compass point but the one anticipated.”

“The point being Lucien?” Aichlan snapped.

“Ophelia, Gardenia and Port of Romance are all lost.” Lucien stated dryly.

“Lost? Lost how?”

Lucien sighed and looked to Clarissa for support, the first genuine emotion Aichlan had seen from the man for as long as he had known him. Undoubtedly still pleased at Aichlan’s discomfort, watching him sweat under the threat of failure, it was obvious that this situation was beyond either of them. Aichlan clenched and unclenched his fists in an attempt to keep his anger in check; the man just looked enticingly punchable at the moment. Aichlan glanced around the room and was met with the same avoidant gaze. Clarissa evaded all eye contact, as did the monk. The only sound was Lucien’s obnoxious chewing and the ticking of a clock upon the mantle.

“Well man? Lost how?” Aichlan thundered.

Lucien took a sip of wine and contemplated his rings for several moments before reply. “Lost as in this city has been lost to The Dusk. In fact, this entire region has been overrun, the lord of these lands have fled, seeking refuge in the capitol.”

Aichlan had several choice words and phrases for the bishop and the feckless lords of Duvachellé, but Lucien drew raised his voice as if anticipating his response.

“Laelianus could not spare any soldiers to such remote lands, not with the reports of Osric and his army being so ridiculously large. To say nothing of his ascension to the throne following the old king’s death being…tumultuous at best. So, he had no choice but to rely on guerrilla factions to defend and reclaim the lost territories.

Lucien took another sip of wine. Aichlan knew Laelianus and knew that the man conceded nothing unless absolutely necessary. Given the reputation of the old King and his court, it was likely his erstwhile friend faced a coup if he did not acquiesce to their demands of protection. Laelianus always boasted that he would sit n a throne no matter who he had to fuck or kill.

I dispatched agents to rally said groups, but it seems one of my flock chose to drown himself in liquor instead.”

Lucien shot Rassvette an icy glare filled with contempt, an unspoken ‘we shall discuss this matter further’ was exchanged and Rassvete nodded before excusing himself.

“No, you stay here.” Aichlan held out his arm, barring the monk’s path upon noticing the exchange. “What else aren’t you telling me?”

“If you seek clarification, address the master, not his disciple.” Lucien retorted haughtily.

“I address whom I please.” Aichlan said icily.

Rassvette shrank back and mopped his forehead with his sleeve. “I do not follow your question Grandmaster, I am but a messenger, was but a messenger. I know not the specifics only the message I was to give.”

“Your Eminence, are you really going to allow someone not of the cloth to interfere in the affairs of the church like this?” Lucien had turned his back to Aichlan as he pleaded for one he despised to intercede on his behalf.

“I don’t see this as interfering with The Orders affairs Lucien.” Clarissa nodded towards the monk. “You may answer truthfully Brother Rassvete.”

Aichlan sat in stunned silence momentarily, he wondered who this woman was who had replaced Clarissa. Either Emarosa taught her very well in so short a time or she had it in her all the while. It was not just her however, they all seemed to have changed at around the time Osric showed up at Rhode, and Kielan was felled in battle.

“…In short it was a diversion.”

Aichlan looked up from his thoughts to find he had missed most of the conversation.

“The peasant militias weren’t expected to succeed, only buy time for a defense to be properly mounted in Marquez. We were still under the impression that Osric marched not only with the demons of dusk, but with the Xanavien army that swept through Briternica as well. It is my understanding that that may no longer be true…”

“You were going to use them as meat shields.” Aichlan blurted in alarm.

Clarissa stifled a giggle as Lucien scoffed in disgust. “And where did you hear such a crude, idiotic phrase? They were not expected to succeed; however, they were not expected to die easily either. They were informed of the risks.”

“What of the Hillman? How did they play into this?”

“The who?” Lucien asked in genuine unfamiliarity.

“The one’s hired by you to seek out Clarissa!”

“I’ve hired no one,” Lucien turned up his nose and shooed Aichlan with a dismissive wave, “I sent this monk alone. I don’t know of any Hillman or whatever you are referring to.”

Aichlan motioned for the servant to bring more wine as he ran his hands through his hair. For the first time he could recall, the Bishop was not lying, but it served only to complicate matters more. Aichlan still could not figure out how they knew Lucien by name. He looked over to the monk and noticed he was fidgeting quite a bit, as well as perspiring despite being able to see his breath.

He did not seem like some great mastermind, it was unlikely he orchestrated some great scheme, but he did seem like the type to go to great lengths to shirk duty. Aichlan chuckled to himself; it seems one man’s laziness had sent him chasing phantom conspiracies. He shivered and looked around the room for a blanket or coat. He caught sight of the stone fireplace across from an elaborate bookcase, its mantle adorned with ornate clocks and trinkets.

Aichlan sighed, and rubbed his hands together. “Eth, get a fire started please.”

“In zee fireplace!” Clarissa jumped out of her seat as Eth prepared to torch the table.

“The what?”

“Over dzere!” She screamed and pointed at the great stone hearth across the room.

“What are we facing Lucien?” Aichlan asked, once a fire was roaring. “How bad is our situation here?”.

“In terms of numbers? I couldn’t say. I have no idea how many of the beasts were imprisoned in The Dusk, nor how they multiply, if they can.”

Aichlan took the goblet of wine and downed it in one draught. “Then tell me this, how many survivors do you expect to remain in the cities Laelianus abandoned.”

Lucien haughtily drew himself up. “I believe that abandoned may be too harsh a—”

“Just answer the question.” Aichlan snapped irritably, he had grown sick of all the politics long ago.

“…None.” Lucien replied flatly.

* * *