Chapter 1 - A Home of Ruins

Nine storeys above the cobbled roads, Adam barely managed to keep his balance on a narrow windowsill. As the cold nightly wind numbed his face, he held the wooden window frames at his sides with a tight grip. He stayed as still as possible. After all, even his slightest movement could make the delicate wood creak. And, now that he’d risked scaling the side of the grand building, there was no way he’d let the bastards at the other side of the stained-glass window know he was there.

Seemingly unaware that Adam was listening to their every word, three of Dorenland’s most powerful people relished the luxury of the Hall of Scents. Adam was just able to see their lounge through a blemished part of the black glass that obscured him. The blurry shapes of the velveted sofas, the buffet tables that nearly collapsed under mouth-watering delicacies, and the giant silver censers which were undoubtedly spreading divine odours. It must’ve been awfully warm in there, while Adam had to clench his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering.

Frustratingly enough, for the entire time he’d been there, the trio he was eavesdropping on hadn’t said anything that was useful for his investigation into the Taint. Instead, they preferred to flap their lips about who was seen with whom or how Jeremiah was bound to become the next chieftain of Gotterburg.

Adam bared his teeth as he saw that thick-necked nobleman lying on his side, draining his goblet with insufferable slurps. It still felt unreal; after Adam’s long exile, the two-faced swine who’d ruined his life was right there, barely twenty feet below him. The very same man for whom Adam had made an elaborate graduation speech, years before. Who had even entrusted Adam with his anxiety and doubts over his life’s choices. Once. Although Adam’s fingers itched to ‘greet’ his ‘old comrade,’ he controlled himself. By sheer force of will, he suppressed the traumatic memories of the bodies in the ruined city, the trials Jeremiah had rigged, or the attempt to execute Adam.

Adam looked away from the broad-shouldered bastard. Gritting his teeth, he focused on his breath in an attempt to calm himself. He could already feel the deep beats of his left heart all the way up the sides of his neck. Although the unnatural heat the organ sent through his veins was welcome, the last thing he wanted was for that cursed slab of meat to betray his presence.

Easy now. Adam slowly released his breath in a cloud of white vapour.

If he truly wanted his normal life back, the last thing he should do was punch some extra dents into Jeremiah’s nose. No, there was a better way. If the information he’d gathered was correct, the corrupt idiot was secretly involved with the Taint. And from all the time Adam had spent in the army with Jeremiah, he knew that he’d get a little less discrete as the alcohol flowed.

“…think of the lives of the people!” A gaunt shape in the lounge pointed sideways in exasperation. Adam recognized it as Horace, a rather unhealthy-looking guild master with a pencil moustache. “Listen. We have the manpower to finally push the attack and end this horrible war!”

Jeremiah stretched out his broad arm for some more food. “Oh, so it’s the people you’re concerned about? Not the silver mines held by the Penduli rebels, not the business interests. No, this mighty trading guild wants to save the people.” Jeremiah snickered. “Sure.”

“Listen, the Royal Army has retaken Gotterburg, the largest city in the region!” Horace broadly gestured around them. “What more evidence do you need that we finally have that Penduli scum on the backfoot? So, seize the moment; claim your glory! Send your army south to conquer the Penduli’s other cities now that we have the chance.”

“Tell me,” Jeremiah said. “What good are military conquests if we let the Penduli change our memories to whatever they wish? The Taint has spread even further than we thought. And every victim the Penduli manage to infect has their memories changed to serve the Penduli’s schemes. Who knows how many Tainted are in Gotterburg right now? Who knows how many Penduli are hiding amongst the population?” He spun his broad goblet between his fingers. “But we’ll find them. My soldiers are turning over every stone until—”

“We don’t have time for that!”

Jeremiah cocked his thick head aside. “No? How about that personal assistant of yours, does she have time now?”

Horace made a few sputtering noises but furthermore remained silent.

“She was Tainted for months,” Jeremiah stated, letting every word sink in with the gravity it deserved. “Right under your nose. Did you ever find out how many shiploads of gold and weapons she redirected to the Penduli?”

“Poor lass,” Osterhild said. By the round shape of her curly hairdo and her stiff posture, Adam could easily recognize her. The high official within the Starwing Order, a grand religious organization, neatly sipped from a cup. “She can’t stop crying that she doesn’t remember what she’s done. Not unlike some of those commanders who’ve been Tainted to join the Penduli, along with their troops.”

“But with all due respect, there is no cure anyway!” Horace exclaimed. “The only way we can stop this misery is if we drag the Penduli queen to justice and end the war.”

Jeremiah loudly smacked his goblet down on a table. “If my army travels south, Gotterburg will be vulnerable!”

“But that’s what the Penduli want us to fear!” the frustration shone through Horace’s voice. “They want us to waste our time while they recover, press the attack, and Taint even more people all over Dorenland!”

“I see your point.” Jeremiah lay back again. “Too bad military campaigns are so… expensive.” Although it was hard for Adam to make out the blurry shapes, it looked like Jeremiah rubbed an open palm with his left thumb; an old Dorenish gesture often used by tax collectors to emphasize how empty their hand was.

“Ah, right,” Horace said. “Where is your price tag exactly?” He sat up and moved his head sideways as if looking for something underneath Jeremiah’s boot.

Jeremiah chuckled humourlessly. “Oh, I’ve always admired your courage. Willing to risk losing your chieftain’s favour…” He slowly shook his head. “The masters of other guilds wouldn’t even dare.” Although Adam couldn’t see it, it wasn’t hard for him to imagine the lopsided, self-satisfied smirk on Jeremiah’s ugly mug.

“Brave enough to have supported you and the war effort with numerous donations already,” Horace replied stiffly. “And since we are meeting in this fine establishment, I gather your purse is filled enough for now.”

Osterhild calmly stirred her cup with a spoon. “Gentlemen, let’s not forget: as long as the Penduli spread their heresy, the Mist may come to Dorenland. All lands populated by those who denounce Aves’ teachings will be destroyed in the end.”

“Urgency, yes, indeed,” Jeremiah nodded slowly. “It’s settled; I’ll send my bannerman south in the greater war effort, supported by the parties who remain loyal.”

Horace sharply turned his head to Jeremiah but seemed to hold his tongue for now. He put his wine goblet away with a brusque movement.

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“Meanwhile,” Jeremiah continued, “I’ll personally lead the effort to secure Gotterburg of all the Penduli and Tainted.”

Some people never change. Knowing how hungry for glory Jeremiah had always been, it sounded like he was just squeezing money out of the guilds for things he wanted to do anyway. And now, forces controlled by his bannermen would leave Gotterburg while he had tight control over how the Penduli and Taint were handled there. Ideal, for someone who had some even dirtier business to hide.

Jeremiah turned his attention towards Osterhild. “Speaking of which… my agents told me the Starwing Order has found a most interesting lead! My sincerest compliments.”

Adam’s breath halted. Despite the risk of being heard, he adjusted his pose so he could press his ear against the cold window.

“I confess I’m a bit confused about this… location several Tainted have described,” Jeremiah continued. “Endless tunnels, filled with visions of the past? Meeting relatives who’ve long been deceased? Supposedly, there are abominations ‘made of wild emotions.’ People even claim they’ve been attacked by depression itself.”

“Of course, sounds like your typical Dorenish backyard,” Horace deadpanned with a sour undertone in his voice. “How high were these ‘Tainted’ exactly?”

Jeremiah chuckled and waved his fat, stubby finger. “No, no. The stories of separate individuals were remarkably consistent.”

“Enough,” Osterhild stated calmly as she placed her cup on a table. “I forbid both of you to speak of this. Or to pry into the Starwing Order’s matters further.”

A heavy silence fell and Adam quietly groaned in frustration. If he would’ve still believed, he would have prayed to Aves to make Jeremiah continue.

“I agree that discretion is of importance,” Jeremiah said, an understanding, diplomatic undertone in his deep voice. “But—”

“No.”

Jeremiah did an even poorer job of hiding his frustration than Horace. “What good is all this secrecy among allies? The Starwing Order has hidden command posts in Gotterburg! Rumours of a secret police force go around, without any approval of nobility! As chieftain—”

“But you’re not the chieftain yet, are you? Not until the king decides you will be. And we all know he’s wise enough to let High Priestess Zachalynn tell him the Lord’s will in these matters.”

Adam grinned, regretting he wasn’t there to see Jeremiah’s ego deflate. Forbidden pamphlets he’d seen came to mind, which showed the king as a dog on a leash held by Zachalynn the Archpriest. Funny, and painfully accurate. Maybe Osterhild sees through Jeremiah’s nonsense as well.

“Of course…” Jeremiah said. “We are blessed with the Archpriest’s guidance.”

Although the conversation switched to less-heated subjects, the curt tension between the three was clearly palpable.

Bizarre. That ‘location’ sounds like a fairy tale. But if it’s nonsense, why would Osterhild be so secretive about it? Hmm, maybe Oliver knows more, he’s a Talon of Aves after all. Adam smiled to himself; even though their investigation into the Taint hadn’t officially begun yet, he’d made a good head start.

And soon, he’d finally see his old friends again! It was actually happening; something he had been yearning for during the long years of exile. A soft voice in the back of his head wondered whether he’d still be able to laugh with them in the way he’d used to, but he quickly silenced it. He’d grown up with those people, hadn’t he? Together, they’d relieve the poor citizens of the Taint. And hopefully, Adam’s name would be cleared and he’d be able to walk the streets of his hometown as a free man again.

If not… he’d find another way to do it.

Adam waited until the waiters came to bring the next course of luxurious dishes and put fresh herbs in the giant censers. Assuming the noise in the lounge would cover his own sounds, he started lowering himself to the stone ledge below the window.

As soon as he crouched, a merciless creak sounded from the windowsill. He froze in his tracks and felt the colour drain from his face. The tense discussion in the lounge had stopped as if everyone was listening. Two of the waiters muttered something inaudible. Unable to see what was happening, Adam desperately listened for any sign they’d heard him or were coming towards the window.

His mind raced; he was pretty sure they couldn’t see him, at least. The black panels of the stained-glass window, which depicted a holy scene of Aves the owl god, should obscure him with his dark cloak. However, if someone would open the window, Adam wasn’t sure if he’d survive the inevitable fight with Osterhild and Jeremiah. He glanced down behind him, but dropping down nine storeys didn’t seem like an elegant way to start his investigation either. Despite the cold, a bead of sweat dripped down his forehead and into his short beard.

The clatter of dishes and cutlery set on tables sounded from inside the lounge. Jeremiah sighed in delight. “Ah, honeyed boar! I told you, the chef around here—”

Without a second thought, Adam hastily lowered himself the last bit until he stood on the stone ledge below. Feeling his rapid heartbeat, he clenched the stone wall as if it were a piece of driftwood in an ocean. The conversation in the lounge continued undisturbed; Adam sighed soundlessly in sweet, sweet relief.

Finally able to move freely again, Adam forced his stiff muscles to climb down the Hall of Scents. He carefully stayed out of the bored guards’ lines of sight; they didn’t show any sign of noticing him as he slipped behind idealized statues of old chieftains for cover. After the long, dangerous route down the intricately decorated building, Adam could set his boots on the cobbled streets again. Soon, he walked through the narrow alleys of Gotterburg toward the city centre, where he was supposed to meet up with Oliver.

He was walking through one of the dark alleys when he caught a whiff of a familiar scent in the city air: sweat. Yet, he didn’t see anyone. Adam frowned but kept walking and focused on his hearing. There were footsteps behind him, irregular and oddly muted, as if someone didn’t want to be heard. Are those… the guards? Would they sneak up on me like this?

Adam burst into a sprint. Behind him, two dark-cloaked and masked figures came out of hiding and bolted after him. In front of Adam, a similar warrior sprang over crates at the side of the alley. The man raised both hands, holding them in the Ironglass gesture.

Novaseers, damn!

Soon, a glowing screen—with its blue, intricately decorated surface reminding of stained glass—was conjured into being between Adam and his opponent. The Ironglass Invocation already blocked the width of the alley and was still growing upwards.

Adam glanced back. The assailants behind him prepared Invocations as well. One was conjuring a chain of cold, blue Ironglass links between his hands. The other held both hands in the Marrow gesture. Soon, he’d undoubtedly hold weapons of the corresponding razor-sharp material. Seeing the threats around him made Adam’s blood run hot. His left heart beat rapidly, sending waves of heat through his veins.

“Stay alive,” it whispered softly.

Adam groaned. Stay quiet, you sinister piece of shit! He feinted a dash to the right side of the Ironglass screen and abruptly changed direction. The Ironglass chain conjured by the attacker behind him shot out toward the place he’d just been and clanged harmlessly against the cobbles. Adam growled and jumped. He set his feet against the bricks of the left wall, kicked off to jump even higher, and vaulted over the Ironglass screen meant to block his way. Pale white throwing knives of Marrow flicked by, passing barely an inch above his shoulder.

Adam landed and ran towards the Novaseer in front of him. His opponent switched his gestures from Ironglass to Marrow, conjured a sword of the pale white material, and swung it downwards with a raspy shriek.

Adam grinned savagely. Halfway through the swing, Adam’s left lower arm blocked the Novaseer’s wrist. Then his right elbow slammed into his opponent’s temple with an audible crunch. Roaring like a beast, Adam hurled the man over his shoulder and towards his other opponents. Adam sprinted out of the alley, took lefts and rights, and climbed over walls to shake his attackers off.

His left heart sent waves of fury through him. A primal instinct welled up not to run away, but finish off his attackers. To assert dominance over those who threatened him and show them whom they were dealing with. To make them pay for attacking the Fist of Gotterburg.

A cold shiver ran down Adam’s spine. No! I’ve drawn more than enough attention already! Adam kept running, trying to suppress the dark, sinister emotions his left heart sent through him. Who were those Novaseers, did servants of Osterhild at the Hall of Scents see me? Are they part of the Penduli?

Or, has someone found out who I really am?