Nigh is the Winter of our Discontent
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"Storm's coming." Sam said, his voice as flat and as unnerving as ever.
"Aye." I replied, absently, chewing on my pipe.
I pulled out one of the matches from my coat pocket, and struck it into the bowl. Slowly, ever so slowly, I breathed in a deep breath of smoke from the smoldering Brier leaves, savoring every second of it. The taste was euphoric, and the feeling that came over me was exhilarating. As I exhaled the purple-blue smoke, I felt my exhaustion from the last few hours slipping away.
"I have searched everywhere," Sam began. "I looked for signs behind curtains, under tables, tore apart empty rooms, and talked to damn near four score people at the ball, yet still couldn't find a damned thing. No leads, no marks, no witnesses, no suspicious persons... nothing. If it wasn't for the scattered traces of tenebrific mana, I'd have sworn upon the scriptures that we were chasing the wind."
"I've had no better luck." I replied, puffing on my pipe. "I looked over everyone I could through the mana currents, but saw nothing. Besides the ordinary mana pollution, everything was clean."
I glanced at Sam with a sly smile. "I even ended up having to dance with a few of the young mademoiselles to maintain face while waiting for your return. It was quite the bore really."
Sam shook his head and snorted. "I'll bet." He said, leaning his arms on the balcony railing before somberly continuing.
"This night just keeps getting worse. Since when was a Burdikan trade delegation supposed to be arriving here? I'm used to backstabbing in politics, but even for the Duke, hiding something like this from us is just mind boggling."
"Agreed. In fact I'm almost beginning to think that these people have a death wish. It must take some skill on the part of Marsilian nobility to get run out of town or killed outright the world over." I lightheartedly mused.
"It is a little amazing that they have lasted for this long... Did you happen to see how many honor guards were escorting the Burdikans for tonight's masquerade? There must have been a dozen at least. Plus the merchants themselves. It ain't right. Now that those heathen spies are around I can't help but think they'll end up fucking over the whole operation."
"A dozen? Old fool. You're on track to convert me to Emanuel's theories on your senility." I smugly quipped. "I counted 2 dozen men at arms minimum, though damned if I know the exact number of merchants in their delegation. Honestly, everyone of those bastards looks the same to me."
"Theories? Delusions more like. My mind is as sharp as it ever was. I was simply keeping you... on your toes; making sure you were paying attention to the mission report, Knight-Commander. A brief stint of kindness to warm the night air." He replied, sporting what would probably have been described as a sarcastic smile on any other man's face, but instead appeared as a ghastly apparition upon his own.
"Mhm hm. I see now why everyone at The Fortress avoids your kindness. A few more acts of kindness like that will leave us standing in a desert." I deadpanned. I inhaled sharply again on my pipe, and continued. "As I said, I counted at least 2 dozen men at arms, but its best for our purposes to assume there's more."
"Damn. Two dozen too many. I'd sleep alot better if all those savages were stiff in the ground." Sam growled.
"You and me both brother." I absently replied. "But they are not the reason we have been called here. Don't lose your head, focus on completing the mission."
"Completing the mission?' Sam barked a harsh laugh. "Come on now, let's face it, we're as hopelessly lost as when we began. More so, even... Personally? I think we've been found out."
I didn't respond for a few moments, my eyes fixated upon the clouds blue-purple smoke I was creating. Though I wanted to try to avoid it, the fact of the matter was that I didn't have a reply to alleviate Sam's fears. No good reply at least.
The truth it would have to be then.
"Yes... Yes all things considered I suspect that we have." I said, breathing in another cloud of purple-blue smoke before continuing. "I cannot say anything for certain, of course, but I think the increasing difficulty of the hunt should leave little doubt. This whole evening has been off. This whole week has been off. Everything's just too clean now. The sudden end of the servant's amnesia cases, and the lack of recent disappearances for either the bourgeoisie or the gentry citywide are concerning. A month ago, a child could have followed the nosferatu’s trail, but now it seems ice has frosted over our eyes. The lazy and careless do not turn careful and watchful without cause.”
Sam nodded, obviously expecting the answer he heard. He began to inattentively twist his bright red mustache, as he often did when thinking. After a few moments he quickly started, as if coming too, and then looked towards the storm on the horizon before patting himself down. His badly scarred left hand drifted towards the inside of his coat jacket, and pulled out a runic barometer. He opened it in his palm, paused for a moment to read it, then turned his head towards me.
"47." He said, closing his barometer with a sharp click.
Wanting to be sure, I reached inside my own coat jacket, yanking upon the chain that my barometer had been affixed to. I took it into my free hand and opened it with a twist of my fingers. I stooped my head, trying to make out the gold dials in the fading evening light.
"46." I finally said, correcting him. I snapped the metal case shut.
I said no more, and returned to sucking on my pipe as I gazed out upon the scenery below us. From the ducal palace, it was possible to see the city of Marsilia stretch out for leagues in all directions. I quietly watched as the lanterns of a city of some 80,000 souls were lit one by one, the workmen dutifully traveling from one location to another as they went about their task. The sun had finally set now, and the moon would not rise for some hours yet.
Likely the storm would arrive long before then. It would be a dark night tonight. A bad night.
"We should call it off." Sam told me, interrupting my thoughts.
"No." I replied harshly. "We cannot call off the hunt. Not now. You know that as well as I. The nosferatu is here, Sam. We’ve both felt its traces, and you know no other monster leaves a tenebrific mana residue quite like that. And with the storm drawing the ambient mana towards itself, you know many of the gentry will be particularly vulnerable tonight. The Talented among them will have their spells greatly weakened, and enchanted weapons or clothing, well crafted as they may be, can only hold so much charge for so long. The nosferatu hasn’t fed for at least eight days, and I doubt it has smelled so much runic blood in its life. The storm will only serve to encourage it further, and the Duke won't stand for more deaths. Especially among the nobility. We're simply in too deep to pull ourselves out." I told him with a passionate, bitter voice.
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"Oh, to seven great hells with the duke." Sam snapped. "If that inbred mongrel was so concerned about the 'gentry', he would've listened to reason and canceled The Martyrs' Feast, but he just couldn't help himself! That man always returns to wine and women like a dog returning to its vomit."
Sam spat over the side of the railing, as if even mentioning the duke brought some foul taste to his mouth. Sam continued.
"Listen, four or five more deaths doesn't concern me nearly as much as the danger to ourselves. You know well that I have never been a coward, but there isn't enough time. In an hour we'll be just as vulnerable as the gentry with the ambient mana pressure becoming so low. Sacrificing our lives to save some Marsilians, let alone some Marsilian nobility, is a waste. Worse even, it's stupidity! If a fight starts, we'll scarcely be able to fry a pigeon within minutes, let alone throw spells at a rampaging nosferatu."
"You exaggerate." I replied, my annoyance rising.
"Barely." Sam replied, his voice becoming more agitated. "By moonrise we'll be able to have one, maybe two minutes of combat tops before we're dead in the water with that monster."
"No," I replied. "Not if we keep moving. Call it whatever you like, but you are letting your anxiety get the best of you. Even if Jameson and Emanuel don't return in time with the imbued equipment tonight, the mana pressure will still be strong enough until the early morning hours if we're smart about it. It'll be no different than Ravenyzia, once we drain the mana in one location, we'll just retreat to another."
"We had armor in Ravenyzia, and maybe you have forgotten, but we also had five men there." Sam retorted.
"And three of whom saw little action. It was you and I who did the heavy lifting. Besides, the Ondandes never got close enough to threaten us. The armor did nothing besides assuage our vanity." I countered.
"You seriously expect us to do the same by ourselves? With a crowd that size running around at the ball? In that maze of a palace? We'll never be able to stage any semblance of an organized retreat to any room or anywhere. We'd need to move at least, what, 50 or 60 meters before penetrating into undisturbed mana?" Sam shouted, his voice becoming hoarse.
Sam took a step towards me and grasped my shoulder firmly, and stared me dead in the eyes before continuing.
"Alexios, listen to me. You're no fool, but you are YOUNG. To continue on with the hunt will be nothing more than letting stubbornness and arrogance overcome you. Now, if I am wrong, if there is something I missed, I will gladly submit to your judgement, young and impulsive as it may be. But I have not missed something. We badly need the Duke's support, its true, but we need ourselves even more. The Order cannot risk losing more men, not now... and I worry you do not realize your own importance."
I kept Sam's gaze as he spoke to me, his blue eyes as unblinking as ever, before angrily brushing his arm off me as he finished.
Of course the man had to offhandedly insult me by bringing up my age, the impish bastard. Sometimes I wondered if the man hadn't missed his true calling as a court eunuch.
I stared at him for a few moments longer, and saying nothing. I then turned away and began to pace around the balcony and think.
Though still annoyed, and with urge to ignore his advice out of spite very strong, I was not nearly so "impulsive" or "young" enough to not give his words their due consideration. I persisted in chewing on my pipe as the slight metal clank of my armored boots carried itself far into the evening air. I was loathe to admit defeat, but Sam was right to be concerned. The two of us were alone, with support potentially hours or even days away. We had no imbued weapons, only some enchanted ones, along with a few pieces of enchanted jewelry to help with the channeling of mana. Or at least were supposed to anyways, damned good they ever did me.
I had counted on waging a magical duel, and as dangerous and destructive as they were, they still had far less of a chance of personal injury, and a far less of a chance of death compared to an close combat engagement with a nosferatu.
However, bad luck had made that plan obsolete, or at least partly. If the fight wasn't ended quickly, it would have to devolve into a melee, Great One have mercy. There weren't supposed to be any storms tonight, yet a storm was approaching all the same. Mana pressure was dropping fast as the storm approached, and would become weaker and weaker as the night wore on. The storm overtaking the city wouldn't help much. Although it would release the mana it had drawn towards itself and flood the area with extraordinary power, it would simply be too chaotic to use very effectively in combat until at least tomorrow afternoon, if not many days later.
Disengaging was the logical thing to do, the rational thing. If only we didn't need the money and men from this damnable duke...
I stopped pacing suddenly and let out an audible curse.
I’d forgotten to double check the local mana currents for new pollution before creating our privacy bubble. Someone who knew what they were doing could have exploited the impurities to weaken the bubble and eavesdrop on our entire conversation.
I closed my eyes and slowed my breathing. It took a few moments of concentration to slip my mind’s eye into the local mana currents, but as soon as I saw the startling brilliance of the rainbow colors around us, I felt a surge of relief. The currents were still mostly clean, swirling around us in their dazzling displays that drove weaker men into insanity. Around us, a multicolored bubble covered almost the entire balcony. Off in the near distance, I could see the telltale dull grays and dirty browns of mana pollution coming from the windows of the ball, but luckily for the two of us, most of it was drifting towards the storm in the Northwest.
Satisfied that my momentarily lapse in Judgement hadn't caused our ruin, I released my focus and returned to the waking world. I needed to make a decision, and I needed to make it soon.
Opening my eyes, I noticed Sam's grey-blue eyes focused upon me. The man didn't speak, but he didn't need to. The look said enough. He wanted my decision, and was growing ever more annoyed by the minute at the time I was wasting.
I, ever the dignified and noble unit commander, utterly ignored his gaze and resumed my pacing. My thoughts were too much of a tempest. Maybe in the end I should call it off. Beyond the practical concerns, the signs from the South were grim, and growing worse by the day. Already men from all across the continent were being recalled back to the Isle of Vodos to protect the Order's great sanctuary. The Burdikans were on the move, to where nobody knew. But the rumors our spies in the Great City of Zonstantion were hearing were enough.
Yet to allow more deaths and to return to the Duke empty handed once again would almost certainly close all doors to winning his support. And that itself could very well cost all of us our lives in the coming months.
We needed to draw the Nosferatu out, tonight, otherwise there'd be no other way to secure...
I stopped pacing and stood rock still, a small bitter smile growing across my face as an insane idea took hold over my mind. I turned to Sam and spoke for the first time in what must've seemed like ages for him.
"Your words may have some merit, old fool." I began. "But I must say I have always had a great fondness for gambling. Rather than fold our hand and run away like frightened sheep before the storm, how about we stay and start to... raise the stakes."
Sam's mouth made a thin smile and he clapped his hands together once in mock celebration to my announcement.
"Bravo, maybe you should consider retiring to become a gambler full time. Sadly for me, I missed my chance to squander my life playing dice. And unless you have a wish to die young, I'd advise you to miss your chance too. We don't need more risks. What we NEED is a trail. An actual idea beyond continuing to hunt blind, but more recklessly."
"What did I say about losing your head tonight? Do you think I'd speak just to stir the wind? I have an idea. It just may not be an idea you will like." I retorted, and paused before continuing. "We need bait."
"Bait? Pah. I doubt the blood of more dead criminals will achieve anything. It didn't work last time, and I'd rather not have to deal with draining blood from corpses again." Sam replied.
"I wasn't talking about acquiring more mundane blood. We need runic blood to draw it out."
Sam's face darkened considerably, and he raised his hand pointing his index finger directly in my face before speaking.
"I know what you're thinking. Don't even try it. Our orders at the start of this were clear! Any man offering themselves up as bait would be liable to face a court martial. It is pure suicide, and frankly I'm not gonna just stand there and watch you cut your wrists and bleed halfway to death in the middle of a ballroom, just so you can maybe, maybe, drive the nearby nosferatu into a frenzy!"
"I would never dream of it. Do you take me for a fool?" I asked with a hint of amusement, slowly grasping his hand and lowering his accusing finger from its place right before my eyes.
"So what? Kill one of the Marisillan Nobility? Use a few pints of their fresh runic blood to draw it out? Are you insane? Killing devout nazartic nobles, in order to stop a nosferatu from killing devout nazartic nobles, is not something High Marshal Lucius is likely to just brush under the rug! And Great One help us if the Duke finds out. You'll be lucky if you don't end up court martialed just the same!" Sam said, his face still red with anger.
"Who said anything about killing Marisillians?" I asked, my face breaking into a bitter, bitter smile.