XLIX. DO ME A FAVOR…

  The piercing shriek of a falcon broke the early morning silence as it rode the first thermals over the Ithanian scar. Below, a canyon six miles deep and four miles across at its widest spanned the length of the nation, the cliffs housing the population of Morlocks and those human settlers and traders exiled from the rest of the world or adventurous enough to make a life amongst dusk’s children. Rumors had it that the canyon was in fact the scars of the war that spawned the collapse, but the grand scope of the canyon left such theories as legends. Great rope bridges spanned the rift, and connected cities and towns built into the cliff face, some of which were only a scant few meters above the tumultuous river below.

  The sky was grey in the early morning, thick with clouds that perpetually threatened rain. Despite this, several of the sun’s rays managed to pierce the gloom. Below on the catwalks and balconies, markets were set up and the workers carrying their equipment to the mines made their way to the labyrinths. All eyes turned in passing the dreadlocked priest whose skin tone was over a dozen shades darker than the mine dwelling Morlocks and his uncomfortable looking acquaintance.

  “Be at ease Izarius, you’re drawing attention to us.”

  Izarius’ face flushed as he looked away. “My apologies Your Grace, however I believe it is the cloth and the, erm, shade of your skin that draws the stares.”

  “No, I think they are curious as to how you manage to walk with that pole shoved so far up your ass my friend.” Leucetius replied with a chuckle and a jovial slap on the back. “Come, let us find an inn for breakfast, sit by the window and enjoy the scenery.”

  “I will admit to hunger, and an... ‘Awe’ of this nation's strange methods of city building.” Izarius begrudgingly admitted as he pushed through the growing throng. “However I would think it in our best interest to locate this mercenary before he wanders too far.”

  “Pragmatic as usual I see.” Cetius sighed as he guided Izarius into an inn.

  “Was it not you who described this man as ‘wily’?”

  “I suppose I did.” Cetius took a table in the corner with a window seat and signaled for the waitress. “But he is a man of means, he will find us or we will most certainly run into him.”

  Izarius reluctantly took a seat across from the bishop as he examined the menu handed to him. “How did you come across such a man to begin with?” he asked almost to himself.

  “He was to be a scapegoat of sorts. There was a certain woman who was proving to be a nuisance to a certain duke’s agenda. Some pretense to send her away was made, and both she and her escort were to meet an end in the wraith wood. Unfortunately, due to Lucien’s incompetence, the whole affair was bungled. It was rather comical, I will admit.”

  Leucetius withdrew his pipe and began to pack it with tobacco. “I hear this region is renowned for a type of prepared fish, I believe it was lox, am I correct?”

  “It is a delicacy of sorts.” The waitress replied cheerily. “Will that be what you are ordering Father?”

  “Hmm… That sounds fine and a kettle of black tea for the table if you please.” Leucetius handed the woman his menu and struck a match. “Izarius?”

  “Blood sausage and toast with porridge.” Replied stiffly.

  “Certainly.” The woman smiled and bustled off towards the kitchen.

  “These morlock women could cause an old man such as myself a great deal of trouble.” Cetius chuckled as he lit his pipe. “A great deal indeed.”

  “What happened?” Izarius pressured after several moments of silence.

  “Hrm? Oh yes! I was in the middle of a tale wasn’t I?” He took several puffs from his pipe as he leaned back in his chair before continuing. “I left the task to Lucien, who gave the Mercenary the wrong directives, telling him to escort rather than assassinate. He attempted to rectify his error and left it to a pair of bumbling Hillman he had encountered somewhere or another.” Cetius waved his hand in disgust as if to dismiss the memory.

  “I went in search of them once they left but it seemed that they had gotten lost. I waited on the path they were supposed to have taken for two days at least, and ended up coming across a wayward knight of The Order and a band of Rhodean traders.”

  “This Aichlan fellow correct?”

  Cetius nodded as he toked idly on his pipe. “It was here I was met with my first major setback, as Osric had men canvasing the forest. I hadn’t counted on them being so far west, nor had I counted on the gate being opened, at least not so soon.”

  “I see, but if you needed this woman dead, why did you aid them?” Izarius leaned in and spoke in hushed tones. “It could have been an end to all of our problems had you just left them to their fate.”

  Cetius chuckled, causing Izarius to recoil at the suddenness of it. “My involvement or lack of involvement may or may not have been the deciding factor; those people are not to be taken lightly.” He blew a ring of smoke as the waitress set down their tea kettle and cups, and waited till she departed before he continued. “And I now realize that woman serves our purposes better alive than dead, providing a leash for Laelianus.”

  “So it seems.” Izarius leaned back and crossed his arms as he tapped his foot. “None of this would have happened if it weren’t for those damned mages.”

  Leucetius smirked as he continued to smoke, finding amusement in his companion’s ire. “The whole cannot be blamed for the acts of one Izarius. They did what they thought was best.”

  “What was best?” Izarius spat in contempt. “This man was a threat and they merely set him free in the world, not bothering to tell anyone else.”

  Leucetius shook his head. “He wasn’t exiled for his political ideals or for inciting rebellion or any other such nonsense.”

  “Then why?” Izarius demanded. “I’ve never heard of an instance of one of their little cult being shunned.”

  Cetius chuckled. “You’re too uptight my friend. As for Osric, He was exiled for breaking a sacred taboo, for trying to give life to the dead. Not as a reanimated puppet mind you, but true life. That is all I shall say on that matter.”

  “They hold too many secrets,” Izarius scoffed as he leaned back in his chair “training mages in combat arts and such as they do, who’s to say they aren’t allied with Osric? They could be mounting armies in that damned valley for all we know!”

  “Armies?” Cetius laughed aloud. “Izarius, my friend, they are mere scholars—.”

  “What do scholars need of warring arts?” Izarius interrupted, his accent became more prominent as he spoke faster. “Why would a scholar need hexes and spells that can maim or murder?”

  “Then what would you have done?” Leucetius asked, deciding to humor the man a bit longer.

  “Full disclosure of everything that goes on within Asketill. Should they refuse, then they shall be dissolved.”

  “Dissolved? Asketill is a sovereign nation.” Leucetius dumped his spent tobacco, annoyed with Izarius’ opinions on the issue. “Not to mention a trove of knowledge and the arts.”

  “They are not a nation; they are a university, a university that has far too much land--.”

  “Asketill is smaller than Arlien!”

  “That is not the point Leucetius, it is still a university, yet they garrison themselves behind those enchanted mountains doing light knows what. How did they even acquire those lands to begin with? Each nation on this planet can have its lineage traced back to the collapse with the exception of Sorn and Arlien, and only because they are splinters of larger kingdoms, yet Asketill seemed to just appear out of nowhere.”

  “Now you’re grasping…” Leucetius said dismissively as their food was set down before them.

  “They are not to be trusted, this may very well just be the beginning, mark my words.”

  “Shut up and eat your toast you damned fool.” Leucetius laughed as he sipped his tea.

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  The chimes above the door rang out as another patron stepped in. His skin was pale and his silver hair a mess that fell to his shoulders. He could be mistaken for any other Morlock in the city, save the battle weary look upon him. He was accompanied by a frazzled young woman of The Order, her angular facial features and slightly curled brown hair was that of an Elysian woman. It was obvious they had travelled far; both wore the grime of battle and rough nights under the stars. The couple stood awkwardly in the entryway, as if they searched for something or someone. Izarius craned his neck around to see who it was who had entered and brought such a stir of whispers and stares from the other patrons.

  “Cetius aren’t those--.”

  “Aye, but don’t signal them, they will come to us.” Leucetius went about spreading cream cheese on a bagel, and layered the smoked salmon and other toppings.

  After several moments, the man seemed ready to leave, only to be stopped by the woman as she tugged on his sleeve. She pointed in the direction of Leucetius, and the two made their way leisurely through the crowded tables. The man grabbed a stool from an adjacent table and took a seat. Izarius pulled out the chair next to him and allowed the woman to take a seat.

  “Thank you…” she spoke softly, a combination of weariness and shyness.

  “I was told pay on arrival.” The man began without preamble.

  Leucetius smiled, and wiped cream cheese from his beard. “Well, at least I know we have the right fellow.” He removed a small parcel from a pouch at his waist and handed it to the man.

  He quickly ripped off the paper and twine to flip through three stacks of Rhodarcian banknotes. “Couldn’t get me anything closer? ‘Fraid I don’t travel that far east, ever.”

  “There are several exchange vendors in this city should you wish to have a more local currency.” Leucetius added calmly, as he poured himself another cup of tea.

  The man looked to the woman, who nodded slightly in response. He sighed and tossed her one of the stacks, pocketing the rest. The woman withdrew a small leather briefcase from under her vestments and slid it across the table. As the waitress passed delivering an order to another table, the man swiped a bowl of sliced fruit, offering some to his companion, who politely declined.

  Leucitius touched a golden clasp on the case with his ring, it glowed briefly and snapped open. Izarius leaned over as Cetius withdrew several documents, books, and several white memory stones. Between the stones and the documents smuggled out of Sorn, he now had enough information to begin coordinating the military response in earnest.

  “So, what dirty deeds do you need done dirt cheap?” the mercenary asked, breaking the silence.

  “You got more than you deserve.” Izarius sneered.

  “Perhaps, but I find the church requires silence in their dealings, which costs extra.” The man turned to the bishop, and smiled sardonically. “’Specially since I met you before, ain’t that right Cetius? Since when do you associate with Dusk born anyway?”

  “Hold thy tongue heathen!” Izarius roared as he rose, causing several patrons to glance in their direction.

  Cetius gently guided Izarius back to his seat. “Calm yourself Izarius; these are not the friendliest of shores so to speak.”

  “Sit boy.” Ransom sneered as he anxiously juggled a cigarette over his knuckles.

  “The man you speak of does not exist I am afraid, please do well to remember this.” Cetius continued, handing Ransom a wad of banknotes.

  “Hmm.” Ransom quickly counted the notes and handed them to Emarosa, an act Cetius watched with interest.

   “Then how about we get down to business instead of talking about ghosts and phantoms then?”

  “Quite.” Leucetius poured the last of the tea into his cup and watched the leaves float upon the surface before they sank to the bottom. “What does Wolfmother mean to you?”

  Izarius flinched and gave Cetius a double take. Ransom caught his startled expression, and looked to Emma for some answer, but she only shrugged. He lit his cigarette, and leaned forward to look Cetius in the eyes, exhaling a stream of grey smoke in his face.

  Ransom shrugged, not missing Izarius’ pallor. “Not a light damned thing, should it?”

  “She was a Rhodarcian General, said to have been raised by wolves of all things. A renowned spear fighter, she was known for leading her pack into the fray,” Leucetius paused to take a sip of tea, stopping upon remembering more to say. “There were of course other more colorful and less flattering rumors regarding this woman, but those are the facts.”

  “And pointless at that, where are you going with this?” Ransom picked at the remains of the fruit he had stolen.

  Cetius took a long drink, looking again to the leaves at the bottom. “She was a renowned tactician, and a woman who held a grudge. She lost to an Aes Sidhean general, and spent the rest of her life stalking him, guiding him back to where they first battled to finish him.

  “She was obsessive in her vengeance, and patient beyond reason.” Cetius cut his eyes in Ransom’s direction as he finished.

  “And?” Ransom retorted, ignoring the slightly menacing gesture.

  “Her story is not one that inspires warriors so much as politicians, I myself am a bit of a fan. Though I wouldn’t go to some of the extremes she did, I am all for devoting one’s life to manipulation.”

  “Cut to it, what do you need me for?” Ransom snapped irritated with the bishop’s circular way of speaking.

  “Your last message says you met up with a squad of Aes Sidhean knights in Sorn.” Izarius interrupted.

  “Yeah.” Ransom leaned back. “What of it?”

  “And they sought the Duchess Templeton and Grandmaster Aichlan?” Izarius continued.

  “Sounds to me like you got the letter, so what’s this about? Why the interogation for stuff you already know?”

  “Our communication with Marquez has been cut off for some time now, but the last message stated Alice was in control of the Army and sending a Sorn knight into the kingdom.” Cetius stroked his beard as he looked from Ransom to Emarosa, neither of whom seemed to take the news one way or another. “ We need to determine if she intends to march upon Aglaë.” Cetius pressed. “If so, we need for you to stop her.”

  “If by Sorn Knight you are referring to Fiora…” Ransom smirked and shook his head. “Fuck off; I actually grew rather fond of that one.”

  “We don’t want her dead, merely delayed, perhaps detoured, I care not.” Leucetius paused to stir a spoonful of sugar into his tea. “Your relationship with them will be to your benefit, as will Emarosa’s standing in The Order.”

  Ransom continued to idly smoke as he mulled over the details and information given to him. “Why stop them? Those documents? I peeked. You’ve got more than enough to mount whatever the hell it is you’re trying to do.”

  “True, but I still need time to get things in motion. ”

  “I will not take part in sabotaging their efforts.” Emarosa spoke up. “I know not your reasoning, but I know of your sect Leucetius, whatever schemes you plan will not result in the loss of friends and allies.”

  “Mind your tongue nun, those sounded like demands.” Izarius intoned.

  “Because they were, General.” She responded coolly.

  “I’m with her on this.” Ransom interrupted. “This whole set up reeks.”

  “I have provided you with a map of the route you shall be taking; it leads through the girl’s hometown.” Cetius slid a folded piece of paper towards Ransom. “You’ll suggest they search for survivors and holdouts in some of the cities, if she has reservations, tell her that her General ordered it. Again, I care not for your methods only results.”

  “Auld Ferrons? We’ve been through there.”

  Cetius smiled. “I know.”

  Ransom looked over the map before he glanced over to Emarosa with a resigned sigh. “I don’t like this, not one bit. Too much politics lead to complications.”

  “Be that as it may…”

  Ransom held up his hand. “Don’t lecture me old man. I know my role. I don’t like it, but a gig is a gig.”

  Ransom stood and turned to leave, not bothering to bid farewell to his new employers. Emarosa hurriedly gathered her belongings as she rushed to catch up with him, already at the door. Leucetius rapped his pipe on the table several times to catch her attention.

  “Must you leave me in anger as well Emarosa?”

  She turned back to face the bishop and folded her arms across her chest. “I’ve nothing more to say to you; save Renata will not be allowed to die.”

  Leucetius chuckled. “You and Ravel are the only two that seek to thwart me Emma, Why is this? Has the puppeteer become too attached to its puppet?”

  “She is a human being Leucetius, and I care not if you’ve swayed the others, no man deserves such power as you seek. Especially not you.” She spat in hushed tones.

  “Power? I do this for the greater good Emarosa, a purification of—”

   “Save your lies Leucetius,” She hissed “they fool no one.”

  “…Then you do know what will become of you? The Morningstar does not abide by deserters. If you leave our fold, you leave this world.”

  “Only if you have your way Cetius and I intend to see that you do not.”

  Emarosa abruptly left, leaving the two men in silence. Leucetius continued to tap his pipe on the table, his brow furrowed in concentration. Izarius finished his tea, wishing to ask many questions, but not willing to disturb the bishop. They sat in strained silence as the morning meals continued jovially around them. Leucetius only looked up briefly as the waitress placed the bill before him and commenced bussing the table.

  “Izarius,”

  Izarius started at the sudden address. “Yes?”

  “Did your mother truly bed with wolves?”

  “No…” Izarius grumbled, his face beet red. “Though admittedly eccentric, she preferred the bed company of her own species. I would like to stand as proof of that.”

  “So you do. And Aichlan?”

  “I have met the man; we bear each other no ill will for the feuds of our parents.”

  “Does he know?”

  “I don’t see how he would, and she certainly won’t mention it. Is there a reason for this line of inquiry?”

  “I am having doubts as to my success.” Leucetius waved his hands in dismissal. “Such are the pre battle jitters I suppose.”

  “It is a rather grand undertaking.”

  “Yes, indeed. I just hope it shouldn’t have to come to that…”

  Izarius waited for the bishop to clarify, but to no avail. He sighed in resignation, and placed several notes on the tray that held their tab. Leucetius nodded his thanks, and put the spent pipe to his lips out of habit. Izarius stood with a stretch; the morning sun had pierced the fog and filtered in as golden rays, though they lacked any warming strength. Leucetius followed suit, and the two men made their way outside.