--- Tolwin
When Tolwin and Roric came back from their short trip, they were informed about the details of the situation in Aregat. Mercenary patrols ran across the city at every hour, and all the witness of previous crimes had already been interrogated and put under good watch. After stocking the herbs he had gathered between the training sessions, the original excuse behind his absence, the priest split up with his young apprentice and went looking for Lowan.
It was late in the evening when he finally found his old friend drinking wine in a room inside the town hall, rearranged to act as a makeshift study. The commander seemed even more tired than usual, with big bags under his eyes, but was painstakingly reviewing reports written by his men.
"Nice to see that you've returned, Tolwin," he greeted, without even looking up. "Did the trip go well?"
"We got a good amount of fresh herbs. How are things going here? You seem exhausted."
Lowan stood up and faced the other way, gazing outside the window with both arms crossed behind his back. He let out a deep sigh.
"The last two weeks have been difficult," he answered. "The men aren't used to full time patrols, and aren't happy about this job... Especially after the campaign. But everybody still admits that there is something weird going on here."
"Define weird," inquired the priest. "For what I remembered, there were just rumours of people disappearing."
"They were no rumours."
Tolwin gulped. "Any suspect?"
"It has to be a group of some sort. We already figured this is too much for a single man. Yet, all we have are few stories of cloaked people running around, and nothing else."
"How many victims since start of the patrols?"
"Three," stated the commander. "All male, without any particular background. Abducted without any of us noticing. I hate to admit it, but I have no clues."
The old man sat down, grabbing the wine from the desk.
"However," continued Lowan. "Tomorrow morning I'm going to send a small party to inform the local Lord about this."
"The one who is happily resting in his mansion as we speak? Good luck with that."
"It's the only way. Unless we want to stumble in the darkness forever we need to get in touch with some paladins, and a nobleman can summon them. We can't do this alone."
Paladins. Just the kind of people I don't want to see. I'll have to tell Roric to lay low.
"I'm confident your matters with them won't be a problem."
Tolwin lifted his gaze. It wasn't the first time they had touched that topic during their long years of friendship, and there was a silent agreement between them that he didn't like to discuss that stuff. Lowan didn't know the details of his past, only that he had gotten out of touch with the Holy City at some point and wasn't planning to go back.
Still, he's a wary man. There's no way he doesn't suspect something.
"I already told you that I've left them behind. I'm just a priest now."
"A priest who takes two full weeks to gather medical herbs. I won't ask the real reason behind your absence, Tolwin. But know that you can fool me only so much. The boy is strong in the Light and you want to take him as a disciple, am I right?"
I might as well play this card, for now. As much as I wanted to tell him the truth, that would just put Roric in danger. I'll just-
"Commander!" yelled a voice.
One of the soldiers rushed in, slamming the dore. He seemed very proud of himself.
"What is it?" asked the commander, going back to his desk.
"We caught one! Trapped in an alley, while he was breaking into a house. He's tied up in the next room, waiting for his fate."
Lowan nodded at the priest, implying that their discussion was postponed.
"A bit of luck, at last," he commented. "Come, let's see what we can get out of this guy."
***
"He's in here," said the mercenary. "Didn't seem very talkative, but we have your back if you need some more convincing manners, sir."
"Tolwin," stated the commander. "I'll be going a bit hard on this man. Any problem on your part?"
"I can't say I like these methods under normal circumstances," replied the old man. "But do it your way. We are in desperate need for information."
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And it was real. As a paladin, he had been taught that when dealing with criminals you were supposed to use anything you could, especially when innocent lives were at stake. He had always left all of that to other more specialized members of the Order in the past, though. So, he gave Lowan one last nod of agreement and the two entered the room.
A man was tied to a wooden chair, his black cloak and dagger confiscated and put on a nearby table. From his looks, he had already received a good dose of beating but was just staring into space, in silence. A couple of other mercenaries, his captors, closely guarded him.
"What do we have here?" started the commander. "Tell me, who are you and what's the group you are part of?"
The criminal didn't answer.
"I'm trusting in your will to cooperate, from now on. Where are you taking your victims?"
"Spit it out, dog!" thundered one of the soldiers, punching the man in the face.
After a couple of seconds spent groaning, the prisoner focused his blurry eyes on Lowan and smiled.
"You are too late. Our master can't be stopped now."
Tolwin stepped up. "Master? What... What are you talking about?"
The man looked at him and broke into an hysterical laughter. Then, he began murmuring.
This reminds me of darker times. Like the ones my mentors had to face, with all the heresy and cults... A lot of madmen like this one were left to rot in Balinar's cells.
"What is this gibberish?" wondered one of the mercenaries. "Is he insane or what?"
Instinctively, the priest imposed his hand on the ciminal's face and flashed him with a soothing light, to see if his mind was under some kind of trick. The man however jumped forward and almost fell on his face because the chair was still impairing his movements.
"Your magic is useless, priest! The two of them... Once the pupil is ready... She will come to take me back and..."
She? So, his master must be a woman. We need something more.
The light amplified, but the words ended with more grumbling. Except that this time it was louder than before. And now that Tolwin noticed, it wasn't any regular grumbling. It was, in fact, something that no ordinary person should have ever known.
"Where did you learn it?" roared the priest. "This language! Where?"
He grabbed the shirt of the prisoner and shook him, but all he got out of him was more laughter.
"You know what he's saying?" asked Lowan, with a perplexed face.
"No, but I know what it could mean. Inform the Lord of this town as fast as you can, but know that it might not be enough. Don't bother torturing this man. If my suspicions are correct, it would be completely useless."
The two mercenaries exchanged a worried look.
"What do you mean? Where are you going?"
Tolwin was already leaving the room, for there was no time to spare. He had to send a letter to the paladins in Rayol at once, hoping to find someone who still remembered him. But knowing the Order, and how they almost considered him a criminal since his refusal of the Eye, the chances of being helped were slim.
I should still have my sigil, buried in my old things...
He turned back one last time, facing the commander and the others.
"We might be dealing with a necromancer."
***
--- Roric
"I can't believe I'm stuck here with this wimpy kid."
Roric sighed. "You made every effort to let us know since we departed, right Meran?"
"Cut it out, you two," stepped in Demios. "You are going to give me an headache, guys. I'm supposed to lead you, but how can I do it if you jump at each other's throat all the time?"
"You were the one who asked for us," grumbled Meran. "Why did you choose him, along with me? I'm fine with the strange guy, but this idiot is just going to-"
"Shut up and walk," said Rata, who was ahead of them.
The four had left Aregat that morning, traveling East towards Lord Stelvan's mansion. Demios had been tasked by the commander to go and inform the nobleman about what was going on in his town, but to be honest Roric wasn't so sure that they would have even been received at that rate. It was true that all the veterans were busy with the patrols, still...
Aren't we a little too young to be admitted in the presence of a Lord?
When he asked Demios about it, the other boy simply took out an envelope and waved it in the air.
"This is a letter signed by the representatives of the folks back in Aregat and the commander. Even if they don't allow us to enter the mansion right away, once I show this to the guards His Lordship will have to at least hear us. That's what a nobleman would usually do."
"And what if he doesn't care?" asked Meran, in a polemical way. "He might just kick us out and send us away empty-handed."
It was a weirdly rational question, coming from him, but a legitimate one indeed.
Roric commented, "What I don't understand is why didn't commander Lowan send a courier on horseback. I mean, aren't we too slow? We are supposed to guard the town, but..."
"He has his reasons, probably," laughed Demios. "Wanna know my guess? He either thinks Aregat is already patrolled enough, or too dangerous for us. Plus, he wants to test me."
"To test you?"
"Yes. I asked for the chance to lead a small group. He said I could pick anyone but the veterans, so it means I could only take you three. It's a shame Frauli had to stay but I kinda like this challenge, especially managing the two of you. You should try to get along a little better."
Well, he has a point.
They were still inexperienced fighters compared to the rest of the company, so it was just natural to send them since they would have gotten in the way of the others. Luckily, even without the blond shieldbearer their group had come out pretty balanced. Roric and Meran were fast and nimble fighters, while Rata had grown skilled in tracking and archery. Demios, the one who had fought most times, had developed a good sense of planning and decision making and seemed the right man to lead them.
To Roric's eyes the four boys already looked like the forerunner of a future mercenary company, even with all their ups and downs. Who knew if their future would have led them in that direction, eventually? They had spent many years together at that point, and the youngest boy was starting to see them like some sort of older brothers.
Let's not think about this now. We have a mission to fulfill. No matter how simple it is, it's our first and we need to show that we are capable.
"There it is," stated Rata. "The mansion. On the horizon."
His eyes were so sharp that the others had to take their time squinting before they could spot the building. It was fairly big and its entrance lay at the end of a white gravel path, adorned with many cypress trees on both sides. Demios made the group stop and turned to face them.
"Roric. Meran," he said, looking at both of them in the eyes. "From this point, I trust you'll behave yourself. It will be a short time, but I don't want to hear any arguing. Are we clear?"
The two exchanged a glance, then they nodded. A bit unwillingly, at least on Roric's part.
***
When they reached the mansion, it was already dusk. Strangely, there were no guards or servants around, not even dogs or other animals. Nothing.
"They must be at dinner," observed Demios. "Still, it's weird that there isn't even a greeter of some sort."
A shiver ran up Roric's spine. Something was off.
Why does this place give me this threatening feeling?
"The door looks open," reported Rata. "What do we do?"
"Let's get in. We came all this way for Lord Stelvan, and I don't want to keep the commander waiting."