CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE
*~~~**~~~*
Alaric Sampson
*~~~**~~~*
2nd of Janus, 936 PC
----------------------------------------
Locke had once been the Gates of Amrith, the front door of an entire continent. That role had made the leaders of the city seek influence, if not a bit of tyranny, he could admit that. But the High Chamber and The Crimson Nine knew what the port city was, they understood that Locke was typically the first interaction people from faraway lands would have with Amrith, and first impressions meant something to Purists. A fact he and his brethren put great pride in while molding the city and its people to their liking. Together, they had built the apple of The Creator’s eye.
Thus, as Alaric walked through the shadows of the city, he couldn’t help but grit his teeth at what Iris had done to his work of art. Anywhere that had featured the breath-taking craftsmanship of Purists was either defaced or destroyed. Lotus blasts had erased the elegant details of the stonework, ruined the vivid colors of the buildings, and worst of all, ripped down the vale that had covered the hideous underbelly of the city. Entire districts of the city were left in shambles, the piles of rocks used as gravestones marking the death of elitism.
Her rage had destroyed everything great about the city except for one extraordinarily magical place; the beacon of enlightenment, the torch used by Purists to shine light on the unknown roads of progression; Walendar’s Tower. Alaric needed to go there. He needed to remember Locke as it once was. He guided them up a staircase to one of the numerous stone catwalks that lined the streets of Locke. Lotus stood on the occasional street corner like the City Guard had years before. Black and gold replaced by green and purple. Though, the amount of competency wasn’t terribly different. The majority of City Guard had always been little more than warm bodies that had used nepotism to get a good wage. He could count on one hand how many members had done their fucking job.
“I thought we were going to the university,” Lily whispered. Inch by inch she had started to make her way out of the well she’d been thrown into. She was nowhere near the surface but the light at the top was growing with each day.
“But there is something I need to do first. Besides, the university isn’t going anywhere.” How could it? University da Mi’lier was Locke now in many senses. A once prolific place of academia turned into a Lotus stronghold, standing tall and fierce behind its walls, though it was easy to assume its heart was every bit as broken as his own with all the destruction around it.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
They slipped into the shadows as three Lotus patrolmen wandered along the street below, chatting like ordinary people, not the monsters they were. Boredom was the only thing to have snuck into the city in recent years, leaving the Lotus lackadaisical and on their heels. A crying child could weave through these streets unnoticed.
Alaric leaned his shoulder into Diedro’s. “I’ll need your assistance shortly.”
Diedro nodded then looked around the damaged corner of a candle shop. The owner had been a lovely old Purist woman, one worth saving, but he couldn’t imagine she’d been able to escape with her inability to walk and lack of family to help her.
They scurried across a bridge, staying below the open arches the best they could. Once across, they crept along another catwalk that lined the apartment buildings on that side of the street. They moved like they were part of the shadows, Alaric at the helm, feeling surprisingly spry. On and on they went like this, occasionally stopping to disappear behind cover briefly while Lily’s intuition checked their surroundings. Until finally, they crouched at the top of a staircase in the dark alley that was home to Walendar’s Tower.
Two Lotus stood guard at the base of the tower – silent and fully attentive. Their presence made Alaric miss it initially – the most devastating sight he’d ever laid eyes on – but when he did he nearly fell over. “What has she done?” he whispered. The tower’s arched doorway that had stood open and welcoming for decades was now filled with bricks and mortar, capturing all the memories inside.
“You alright?” Diedro whispered.
Alaric’s voice felt trapped inside the tower with all his memories. He managed to gather himself but before he could ever respond, one of the Lotus guards let out a grunt and stumbled backward, crashing clumsily into the bricks and falling limply to the ground. A spear had punctured his neck. The other Lotus lifted his hands, purple fingers ready to kill. His head was darting around every bit as quickly as Alaric’s but he never saw the second spear coming. For a moment, he stood there in confusion, wondering how the unusually short spear had gotten into his skull before collapsing in a heap.
The alley was silent and eerie. Even Diedro was on edge, glancing around the shadows though it was impossible to see exactly where the spears had come from.
“I don’t feel anything,” Lily whispered. “A Purist?”
No one responded. Not that they wouldn’t but they were too distracted to do so. A figure had appeared from the shadows, walking slowly toward the bodies. A droopy-eared hound plodded along behind him slowly. The man bent down and wrapped a hand around one of the spears before pulling it out of the Lotus like a soldier draws a sword. He wiped the blood on his pant leg and slid it into a holster on his back.
Alaric put a hand on Diedro’s shoulder for balance and pushed himself to his feet.
“Sir,” Diedro whispered but Alaric was already out of the shadows and walking down the stairs.
When he reached the bottom the figure was leaning against the tower, hands slightly higher than his head, his forehead pressed to the bricks in the archway. “Kathar.”