I finished college last week, which is relieving.
Hopefully now I can actually get back to writing fiction instead of science reports.
So I apologise about the absurd wait, and hope you enjoy the chapter!
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*Captain Kadir, leader of the Black Hounds POV *
Today certainly wasn’t an enjoyable one.
A hour or two has passed since the fighting's stopped, which ended with the witch's forces routing suddenly. A few foolish individuals even wanted to chase them into the mountains and kill as many as possible.
The sudden change in the enemy should indicate the men sent into the witch’s lair were successful, thankfully.
So with the coven gone, the threat to Taldar is dealt with.
Ignoring the likely aggravated gnoll lurking in the shadows. The local dangers of the Forgotten Lands will probably whittle down their numbers further, so I’m not really concerned.
Assuming most of the people I sent to wipe out the Weeping Shadows survived, the total losses of the Black Hounds will be fairly low. 20 people perhaps?
This isn’t the case for the rest of the army however.
Whilst my own company is sent to scout and pick off the odd thing, others like the Iron Juggernauts take the brunt of the force.
Our armies total death count is estimated to be around 800. Which is pretty substantial considering this is around a quarter of our forces.
The gnolls could have lost up to half of their number or less, though there aren’t too many people eager to count each and every corpse. Understandably so.
Right now, the camps have been set up and a substantial guard posted around it’s perimeter. Though we’ve moved far enough away from the battlefield to avoid the carrion that are likely having a feast right now.
Sleeping in the Forgotten Lands is a scary thing, even if you have an army around you, but hopefully there should be enough corpses to distract most of them. That likely won’t stop one or two monsters from trying.
With a little luck, I’ll wake up without some oversized vermin snout-deep in my guts.
One can only hope.
I guess the ten guards I’ve got posted around my tent also helps.
The tent flap opens and an armour-clad man stomps into the tent, his breastplate bearing the Sigel of the Malleus Maleficarum.
Coming to a stop, he takes off his helm to reveal a scowling face.
I’m not too sure if he dislikes me in particular, or if he is just a generally miserable person. I’d bet the latter, as I have yet to see a genuinely happy witch hunter.
He clears his throat before speaking.
“I have been order to deliver you to the war tent for a meeting. We leave at once, so follow me ser.” He growls in a demeanour fitting his hostile appearance.
I quickly grab my sword scabbard and put it on, whilst ignoring the impatient glare of the witch hunter. I neither trust the ability of the camps watch to keep out a shadow fiend, nor the good will of the anti-magic cultists at this meeting.
Once I’m ready, I turn to the witch hunter who holds the same grimace. “This isn’t going to take too long is it? It’s been a long day.”
My question is left unanswered, as the man put his helm back on and wordlessly walks out the tent.
I follow him into the camp, which is now fairly dark with the sun having only recently set.
We make a way towards the centre of the camps, weaving between tents belonging to my own men at first. But this soon changes to general Taldarian soldiers, some of whom with various wounds.
For an army camp, it is very quiet, with most of the camp being asleep or on guard at the perimeter.
It doesn’t take much longer to arrive at the largest tent, which is surrounded with guards.
As we approach they stop us, but a word from my escort and we are quickly ushered through into the war tent.
The plainness of the interior is unusual for a war tent, which are often over decorated on the orders of some pompous prick who wants to show off his importance. With the only furniture being a large table and the chairs surrounding it. They haven’t even bothered to stick an expensive looking map somewhere to make the place look more official.
Sat around the table are the generals, the leaders of the other mercenary groups and three people from the witch hunters.
The inquisitor in charge of the group with us, and his two acolytes.
One being the person who escorted me here and immediately took a seat beside the inquisitor. The other being sat on the other side of the inquisitor, a black haired women in her late twenties.
As soon as everyone is present the meeting begins.
General Comis starts with a general overview of yesterday, our losses and condition of our forces as of now. Followed by a whole lot of uninteresting talk that lasted over an hour.
“And so, now onto our contracts with the mercenary group.” Finally, something that interests me. “Upon reaching the keep tomorrow, the contracts of the Dancing Swans and the Red Daggers will be fulfilled, at which point the final payment will be made as is stated in the contract. As for the two remaining mercenary companies, I would like to extend the contract for a further month until it is certain no additional threats exist.”
I ponder for a moment before making a response.
“That’s fine so long as we are being properly compensated. No more than a month though, since we’ll need to scout for new recruits as soon as possible.”
The burly leader of the Iron Juggernauts to my left gives a nod before adding.
“We’ll be needing quite a few new members, so with your permission general, I’d like to recruit some members of the Taldarian forces. I’ll pay 100 Deniers per head.”
The general frowns slightly upon hearing the payment, and quickly responds.
“As I said earlier, this will all be negotiated once we get back to Fort Torbek.”
There is a moment of silence to see if anyone has anything further to add. When no one speaks up, general Comis continues.
“Now that all of this business is sorted, our guest from the Malleus Maleficarum have a few words to say.”
With our attention firmly placed on the inquisitor, who has yet to speak, he slowly takes off his great helm.
The sight of his face makes my stomach churn, and I barely prevent my disgust from showing in my expression.
“Now, it is our belief that the which coven by the name of ‘The Weeping Shadows’ has been neutralised by the brave souls who underwent the mission to exterminate them. Upon this happening, their control over the demons that made up their army was broken. The result you saw at the end of the battl-.” The inquisitor’s raspy voice fails at the end of his sentence, resulting in a wheezing cough that lasts for a few seconds.
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After a deep, but ragged breath, the inquisitor carries on as if nothing had happened.
“Now, our current issue is with the aftermath that can be left with the destruction of a coven. You see, witch’s are vile, spiteful creatures, that may unleash a curse upon their death. This curse may cause the death of any nearby person, or change them into a twisted beast that bares no resemblance to their former self.
But the damage to life is not the only issue. The place of the destroyed coven will continue to leak magic into its surrounding, corrupting and twisting the land. For this reason, me and my associates must deal with this corruption with haste. Lest a great calamity occurs.”
I slam my fist into the table in anger and shout at the witch hunter.
“Why in the hells are you telling us this now! I should have been informed of this before sending my men into there!”
I stare at the inquisitor with a venomous hatred, who stares back at me apathetically with his dead cloudy eyes.
A few seconds after our eyes were locked, he speaks again in a slow and cold hiss.
“If I thought the information would be beneficial in the destruction of this coven. You would have been informed. What happens after would serve no use to you, nor the men you sent.
I will not have my decisions be questioned again. Is that clear?”
I break eye contact and refuse to make a response. After a short silence, he continues talking anyway.
“Now it is of upmost importance that we deal with the corruption left by the witches. For this reason I shall be leaving to do such a thing immediately, taking the entirety of my group with me. Upon arriving there, the corruption shall be dealt with and we shall then swiftly return, saving any none corrupted survivors as is possible. Though the chances of this is low.”
The second general, who was in favour of chasing down the fleeing gnolls, speaks.
“Surely you’d need an escort to go deeper into the Forgotten Lands. There are a great many beasts in their, including the remnants of the witch horde.
Since the destruction of magic taint is the duty of any decent human being, I shall offer my own forces for this task!”
The inquisitor shakes his head slightly and answers.
“I’m afraid that won’t be necessary.
The abominations that lurk in the surrounding land pose no great threat to us, despite their vicious nature. Plus the mobalisation of your forces would take time we don’t have.
Now, if you’d excuse us. We have to leave at once.”
With that, the witch hunters stand and leave without speaking another word.
Soon after the meeting is called to an end and I make my way back to my tent.
As I approach, I grab one of my men by the name of Faris and bring him close.
“Go and tell Castrum to bring me some of his fine wine and have a drink with me.” I whisper in his ear.
With a curt nod he turns and runs off to deliver my message.
I dismiss the guards, who look very relieved at finally being able to get some sleep. A few of them even give me a knowing smile as they pass.
For a while now, some of them have had the belief that I have ‘other tastes’. Which they believe I act out with my adviser, Castrum.
They’re wrong, but it is easy to understand why they’d make that mistake.
We often have discussions alone, where they doubt that I am merely seeking ‘advice’.
It doesn’t bother me too much, as it more easily hides what we really get into.
In preparation for his coming, I get out a bronze bowl and put it on the small table I have in the centre of the tent.
Sitting down on one of the two chairs there, I wait for him. Sure enough, he arrives not much later with a wine bottle in hand filled with red liquid.
“My friend, I’m not so sure why you want another of our sessions today. Is something worrying you?” Castrum says as he takes a seat opposite me, putting down the wine bottle.
I nod.
“It is about the men I sent west to deal with the witches. Which reminds me, you still haven’t explained why you wanted Argus’s squad specifically to go.”
He gives a small chuckle.
“I don’t know myself. There just happened to be something about them that fate favoured.
But why is it you are worried about them? They were successful weren’t they, as I told you they’d be.”
I rub my head as I begin to think over what the witch hunter said.
“We’ve just been told by the Malleus Maleficarum that they are most likely dead. Apparently the coven released a deadly curse on its surroundings or some shit like that.”
My adviser raises an eyebrow.
“And do you actually believe that, because I certainly haven’t come across anything like that before.”
“Well, they certainly aren’t synonymous with honesty. The fact I wasn’t told this earlier is fishy as it is regardless.” I respond.
“No doubt, but I can’t straight up deny their claims this is possible. Unfortunately, they likely have more experience with magic than I.” He scratches his chin, before adding. “I take it this is what you want a reading for?”
I give a simple nod, to which he sighs and picks up the bottle besides him, uncorking it.
“Maiden’s blood is hard to acquire don’t you know.” He says sullenly.
I give him my best shit-eating grin and respond.
“You’ve told me yourself you can use a different medium.”
He pours the blood into the bowl waiting for him on the table, then quickly sets the bottle aside.
“And I’ve also told you that maiden’s blood gives the clearest readings, so unless you want some half-answers and stupid riddles, it is best I continue to use it.”
My grin widens further as I take a verbal jab at him.
“I’m afraid that you already do that already, so to think that your answers could get worse is baffling.”
That manages to make him crack a smile, but his expression soon turns serious as he puts his hands over the bowl.
Suddenly he takes a sharp breath and his eyes turn completely white.
A few minutes pass with him frozen in place, with it not even appearing that he is breathing.
Without warning he takes in a deep breath and his eyes return to normal.
I wait for a response while Castrum massages his head, whilst he takes a moment to recover.
Finally, he quietly utters.
“No one shall return.”