The boy moved with a sixth sense through the thick Shroud of the 11th Inkhold District. He made his way down backstreets and cramped alleyways, steering them well clear of any main roads.
Kint struggled to keep up, losing sight of the boy several times.
“I saw you at the Arena today.” Keely said as he climbed a stack of boxes to hop a low wall.
“You did?” Kint asked, throwing himself over.
“Yeah.” The boy continued, bare feet slapping on hard stones. “Me and Darl, we were underneath.”
They turned a corner into a narrow corridor. Kint had to shuffle sideways to navigate the space.
“Thought you were dead for sure.” The boy commented. “Don’t know how you did it. Thought the Lord would kill ye.”
“I don’t either.” Kint grunted, uncomfortable in the tight space. “And he still might.”
“You’re right about that.” Keely noted. “Echrus is lookin’ for ya. Got his boys out everywhere.”
The Inspector frowned. He’d be afraid of that.
It was a bit concerning how unaffected he was by the prospect of two Lords trying to kill him.
Kint quickened his step, almost losing the boy in the fog.
They exited the small space into a larger alley.
The boy turned around.
“Don’t worry, Inspecta.’” He said, with a grin. “We got tricks they don’t know about. You’ll be safe wif me.”
Kint nodded, worry lining his face.
The two moved in silence. Keely, deep in concentration, checking every corner. Kint, tight with anxiety, following close.
Echrus was a worry he didn’t need, although he’d certainly expected it. The Lord wasn’t used to being challenged, especially not publicly. It was not surprise that the childish man would hold a grudge.
“In here.” The boy whispered, climbing a stack of wood boxes like a staircase.
He grabbed hold of a wide window, sliding the pane aside.
Before Kint could protest, the boy had slipped inside the building.
The Inspector sighed, shaking his head.
He climbed gingerly on the shaky boxes, fearing every creak below his feet. Upon making it to the window, he looked inside.
The Inspector was surprised to find himself looking down on the upper level of Lord Crecius’ factory.
Keely was standing below, looking up at him, expectant.
Kint grunted, sidling through the window with far less grace than the boy had before him. He let go of the ledge, dropping with a thud to the hardwood floor below.
The noise echoed around the massive space.
The two intruders froze in their tracks, waiting for the sound to die, praying that none of Lord Echrus’ Acolytes were near enough to hear.
After two minutes the sounds of their entry had dissipated, and Kint was finally able to release his breath. He wiped sweat from his brow before readying himself to continue.
Keely gave him a skeptical look, begging the question, ‘Are you ready for this old man?’
Kint nodded for them to continue.
“It’s this way.” The boy whispered, leading them downstairs.
Kint followed, surprised at how much help the urchin was willing to lend.
They walked the factory floor, passing rows of empty workbenches.
The boy’s feet were silent, but Kint’s boots echoed like thunder, causing the Inspector to flinch at every step.
Keely paused, causing Kint to do the same.
He glanced at the boy, nervous.
The urchin pointed to the other end of the factory.
The room was dark, but Kint could see the outline of three massive furnaces. The unevenness of their spacing irked him even now.
“They took him that way....” The boy whispered, voice solemn. “Couldn’t see what happened after that.”
The inspector nodded, glancing at the boys face.
He was terrified.
Guilt wracked the aged Inspector.
He knew the Incentives of a Mule District would likely make trespassing on a renters grounds the gravest of offenses. For Urchins it was doubly severe as they were eminently expendable.
Kint could see the boy’s hands were clenched, and shaking with fear.
Who knew what stories these children told to warn each other of the dangers of stealing from a renter. Kint’s story about young Chester’s demise had likely added to that.
The Inspector grimaced.
He never would have made it this far without the boy, especially with how thick the mist was here, but still, it had been too much to ask.
Kint gritted his teeth.
Now it was his turn. He had to figure this out.
He stepped forward, the echo of his feet the only sound in the quiet room.
As he moved, the worries of his waking mind dissolved, distractions and anxieties falling away, cold information filling the space left behind.
He was in the Silent State.
His footsteps echoed as he approached the hulking black furnaces.
Keely said they took the boy here… So where did they go?
There were no obvious doors, no cracks or seals, just three towering cylinders.
He moved inside the first furnace, crawling into the sooty space without a care for his clothes.
He felt across the walls inside, looking for a seam.
There was none.
He rapped his knuckles against the circular walls, listening for a hollow tone.
There was none.
He crawled out, moving to the next furnace, and the next.
No luck.
All three furnaces were without fault, and evidently well used.
The Inspector brushed dirt from his britches with a puff soot.
He then moved his search to the surrounding walls, trying to find a loose stone, or suspicious lever.
His teeth ground in frustration.
There was nothing.
“Need more…” He muttered.
A thought came to him.
The boy. He must know more.
A part of him felt guilty for even thinking of asking Keely for more help, but the Silent State was not that part.
Kint turned, facing the Urchin.
But he was gone.
His brow furrowed.
The Inspector glanced to the upper level, moving to get a view of the window they’d entered through. It was closed.
There was no sign of Keely.
Kint frowned.
He couldn’t blame the boy for leaving. Still, it would have been nice to have some sort of hint.
The Inspector moved back to face the trio of furnaces.
He cocked his head, a thought scratching at this brain…
He grinned.
How had he not made the connection before. It seemed so obvious now.
The spacing between the furnaces. They were placed that way on purpose.
Kint stepped forward, circling the center Cylinder. He pressed himself against the stone wall, feeling his way behind the massive oven. He reached hand toward the back…
And there it was.
A seam stretching from the floor to about Kint’s height.
A door.
He could feel cool air brush against his finger tips. He couldn’t tell how wide it was, but the Furnace was more than enough to cover it.
He stepped back from the wall, giving himself space.
The smile on his lips had grown. But the job was not done. There were other questions.
How do they move the damn things? Mages? Magic Tools?
Thunk.
Kint’s eyes widened.
There was a screeching sound, of heavy metal hinges.
The front door.
Need to hide.
Kint’s eyes searched the room, landing on a space between two workbenches.
He pulled his knife from its sheath, kneeling down in an athletic position.
“Alright, I’ll look…” A man slurred, stumbling through the open door.
There were more words… commands coming from outside the factory. The Inspector couldn’t make them out from this distance.
“Ye Bastard.” An Acolyte mumbled, dragging his feet.
Kint peaked over the edge of the wood workbench, trying to catch a glimpse of his enemy.
Silver moonlight lit the doorway, coloring the intrusive Shroud pooling around the man's shoes. The Acolyte had greasy black hair around his shoulders, his robes were unkempt, stained.
The Inspector's eyes narrowed.
It was the Acolyte who’d been guarding the Arena entrance, the one who’d given them a hard time.
Kint could smell the alcohol on him from across the room.
He grimaced.
The man was heading his way.
“Taking orders from a country lout.” The drunken man griped.
His feet slid across the floor, steps uncoordinated and unconcerned.
He was getting closer.
Kint adjusted his grip on the knife, fingers slick with sweat.
“...Unsophisticated…”
Closer…
“...Naive…”
Closer…
“... Afraid of the bloody tube…”
The Acolyte stumbled past. Not even looking Kint’s way.
Kint did not think, he acted, the Silent State making his path clear.
The inspector moved quickly, stepping up behind the Acolyte.
He put a hand over the man’s mouth, knife to his throat.
The man let out a shout of surprise, but it was muffled by Kint’s hand.
The knife pressed close against the Acolytes neck, drawing blood.
“Scream and it’s over.” The Inspector advised.
The drunken Acolyte froze.
“Good.” Kint smiled. “Now I’m going to ask you some questions, and you’re going to answer them as quickly and concisely as you are able, or there will be consequences. Is that understood?”
The man did not respond, staying stalk still.
“Tell me, how many of your friends are out there?”
Gingerly, Kint opened a space between his fingers for the man to speak.
“Screw yo–”
Kint covered the man's mouth again, stabbing the tip of his blade into a pain center near the clavicle.
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He felt the screams against his palm, the body shuddered with pain. Blood seeped through the man's robes, adding another stain to his soiled cloths.
Kint felt nothing, emotions cool in the embrace of the Silent State.
After several meaningful seconds, he removed the blade, placing it back against the man's throat.
He waited as the Acolytes' breathing went from frantic to steady.
“Are you ready to talk?” He asked.
The man nodded vigorously.
“Good.” Kint replied, “Again, how many are out there? I want locations, and affinities.”
He released his grip on the drunk's face.
The Acolyte gasped, words spilling forth in desperation.
“Seven! Seven.” He said. “Five mages. A Forger, a Weaver, and three Burners.”
Kint frowned.
“Probably all Crafters too…”
The Acolyte snorted derisively.
“Of course.”
Kint gave him a hard look.
The man’s eyes widened in fear.
“They’re all Blessed.” He explained, raising his hands in supplication. “So, of course they’d be Crafters.”
Kint let his eyes linger on the drunk, extracting a few extra ounces of terror. He pressed the knife tighter to the man’s throat, bringing the layabout to silence.
The Inspector examined the factory again, searching for an escape route.
The window he’d come in from was out of the question, he couldn’t understand how the boy had gotten back up there without any boxes or obvious hand holds to climb.
His eyes roamed, checking the other windows, but they were too high with nothing close enough to climb.
He frowned.
“Your friends,” Kint grunted, “Where are they positioned?”
“Uhh…” The man thought for a moment. “Three on one side of the street, two on the other, and two in the back alley.”
Kint’s eyes widened, worried.
No… If they’d captured the boy they would have come in with more men.
Echrus’ men were incompetent, but not that stupid. Which meant that the boy had escaped unnoticed.
The Inspector let out a small sigh.
“The two who aren’t mages, are they Blessed too?” He asked.
“No.” The man spat. “Bloody juniors.”
There was hate in the Acolyte’s voice, prejudice.
Kint’s eyes squinted, a thought coming to him.
There was a chance…
“You’re gonna die, you know.” The Acolyte slurred. “You’ve got no chance against five Blessed. No Kadenite does."
The Inspector grinned. The drunk’s outburst had unknowingly lent more credence to his theory.
“You’re probably right.”
Kint looked into the drunkard's eyes.
“But, I won’t have to deal with Five Blessed, will I?”
Confusion furrowed the man’s brow.
“And it’s not like you’ll be alive to see it.”
The Inspector’s smile bloomed, as fear widened the man’s eyes.
Kint raised his Stalwart Blade, bringing it down hard on the back of the man's greasy head.
He hadn’t killed the drunk, but Lord Echrus probably would.
After shoving the unconscious body behind a row of workbenches, the Inspector glanced at the three furnaces.
He grimaced. Tonight's investigation was over.
There was nothing more he could do, not without a way to move the massive ovens.
He’d come looking for leverage, but this secret doorway wasn’t nearly enough.
Kint shook his head.
Especially not now that two of Lord Crecius’ Acolytes had died attempting to follow him tonight.
The Inspector gritted his teeth, turning toward the open Factory door.
Leverage, and the secret door, were problems for another night. Now, all he could do was live to fight another day.
Kint stood tall, moving quietly to the open door. As he approached, he pressed himself against a wall, careful to stay out of view of anyone outside.
He took a breath, probing deeper into the Silent State, finding the dark power within, his wave energy.
He touched it, the power electrified his veins, moving through his chest, then up into his eyes, causing them to glow a deep purple.
He peeked his head outside.
The magical world opened to him. Auras all around.
The silver glow of the Shroud pervaded, it was still thick in the night. He could see the grays of the forged stone apartment, greens of grown wood doors, and the yellow glow of crystal lamps. Then he saw what he was looking for.
Three glowing silhouettes covering the wide road to his left, all fiery orange in the silver Shroud.
The Burners.
A hope flickered in Kint’s chest.
He turned his head, seeing two shadowy forms at the other end.
He smiled.
They had no aura.
Blessed bigots.
In refusing to associate with their Kadenite colleagues, the Blessed had left him an opening.
The two Junior Acolytes were deep in conversation, facing each other.
Distracted.
Wasting no time, Kint released his well of power and began to move.
His steps were slow at first, cautious, quiet.
He began to pick up speed, moving on his toes like a dancer.
The Inspector drew closer to the unsuspecting Kadenites, their silhouettes growing clearer through the fog.
Twenty paces.
He drew his knife from its sheath.
Fifteen.
They still hadn’t noticed him.
Ten.
He was sprinting now, blade in hand.
“Hey!”
One of them spotted him.
He had a ball and chain slung over his shoulder.
“There he is.”
The nearest one turned, eyes widening in surprise as they met with Kint’s own.
Five paces.
The man struggled to pull his sword from its sheath, prying at the hilt with unpracticed hands.
Too late.
Kint lunged, grabbing the swordsman's wrist. He shoved the blade back into its scabbard, jolting forward to smash the crown of his head into the man's face.
The man’s muffled scream was cut off as blood exploded from his nose with a nauseating crunch.
He fell back, unconscious like a sack of flour.
The Inspector ducked, as a spiked ball passed above his head, splitting the Shroud like a gust of wind.
He grimaced.
Sloppy.
Kint stepped toward the pudgy Kadenite, feet sliding across the stones with a practiced ease.
The man’s heavy swing had left him off balance.
Wasting no time, the Senior Inspector thrust the hilt of his blade into the man's solar plexus, ejecting the air from his lungs.
The man bent over, stunned.
Kint’s knee shot up to meet the Acolyte’s skull, connecting with another satisfying crunch.
The man stood straight like a coffin falling down flat on his back, to hit the stone like a corpse.
He would not rise again anytime soon.
The inspector grinned, sheathing his blade. He stood over the two bodies, breathing heavy, admiring his bloody work.
The moment was short lived however, as something in the periphery caught his attention.
Kint just had time to duck before a massive fireball streaked past his head, exploding in a shower of stones against a nearby wall.
He turned to face the origin of the magic.
“Fuck.”
The three Burners were fast approaching. Fifty paces out at most.
He needed to move.
Kint sprinted down the now unguarded street before him, feet clacking on slick stone.
The wizened inspector knew fifty paces was not nearly enough to lose the Acolytes in the Shroud, even one thick as this.
He glanced left and right as he ran, searching for some sign that might tell him which alleyways would lead to salvation and which to a dead end.
There were no such signals however, at least, none that he could see.
He turned onto another main road, biding time.
His mind was on fire, Silent State burning through options and outcomes.
He would need at least seventy paces of distance on the Acolytes before he could take an alley. That was enough distance to lose sight of him in the Shroud, so even if he did hit a dead end, there was still a chance they’d miss him.
He’d also have to find a section of road with multiple alleys, causing indecision among his pursuers and ideally splitting them up.
The Inspector gritted his teeth. His options weren’t great at this point, but if he couldn’t guarantee escape at least he could increase his odds.
So he ran. Faster and farther than he had in a long time.
His lungs burned, feet blistering in their boots.
He made one turn. Then another, and another.
He couldn’t lose them.
He didn’t have enough distance.
His muscles ached.
He was too old.
They were gaining on him.
Kint clenched his teeth, pushing through pain, the desperation.
He turned another corner, and stopped. Shoulders slumping in dismay.
A man stood twenty paces in front of him, waving him down.
How had they gotten ahead of him…
The Inspector cocked his head.
Something was off.
“Payter?”
The young man nodded enthusiastically.
“This way.”
The apprentice Inspector gestured him to follow.
Kint was confused, but there was no time to argue, he could hear the bootsteps of his pursuers coming around the corner behind them.
He followed as the young redhead led him down a nearby alley.
There was a crossroads, exactly the kind of junction Kint had been looking for.
One direction led to a forked road, the other… he could not see the end through the fog.
Kint moved toward the path with more options, but the apprentice pulled him the opposite direction.
He didn’t argue, following into the mist. Praying the boy knew what he was doing.
Payter kept them at a steady walk, feet silent on the stones.
Kint clenched his fists anxiously.
He heard heavy boots make the first turn off the main road to follow them.
The apprentice remained steady in his pace, moving as fast as they could while remaining silent.
Kint sucked in a breath.
They’d reached the end of the corridor… a dead end.
His heart sank.
He’s fucked us…
But, despite Kint’s frustrations, the young man continued walking, making his way to the back wall.
The Inspector followed reluctantly, struggling to keep despair at bay.
Payter pulled him to the side.
Kint’s brow furrowed in confusion.
There was another one of those low walls. Like the one he’d almost tripped on earlier in his escape from Lord Crecius’ men.
“Get down.” The Apprentice said, moving to crouch behind the wall.
The Inspector did not move, staring suspiciously at the young Apprentice.
“Come on.” Payter whispered, frantic.
Fuck.
With no better options, Kint crouched beside the redhead.
The two faced each other, curled tight as they could be behind the low wall.
Footsteps approached.
Payter put a finger to his lips.
“You check down there.” A man said at the mouth of the crossroads. “We’ll go this way.”
Two sets of boots split off into the distance, leaving one behind.
The Acolyte approached slowly, casually, and why shouldn’t he, he was a Crafter class Mage. His hard soles clacking on smooth stones, the sound echoing around the Shrouded Alleyway.
Thirty paces.
Kint gritted his teeth.
Twenty paces.
There was a knot in his stomach, sweat painted his brow.
Ten…
The boots stopped.
It was over…
“Of course.” The Acolyte sighed.
Kint closed his eyes.
Another shuffling of boots. Then…
Footsteps.
His brow furrowed.
They were walking away.
The Inspector opened his eyes, raising his head to get a better view.
Payter put a hand on his shoulder, holding him down.
“Wait.” He mouthed.
The footsteps continued… After another minute, they were gone. Too far away to hear.
Payter nodded and the two officers moved to stand.
“What was that?” Kint whispered, dumbfounded.
The boy brushed dust from his knees, a sly grin on his face.
“It’s called urchin’s vale.” He whispered.
Kint frowned.
“How did you know about it?”
“I was an urchin once.”
The Apprentice stepped over the illusory wall, giving it a disdainful look as he did.
“In another life.”
The Inspector grimaced. The boy’s rampant ambitions made a bit more sense now.
He gave Payter a pat on the shoulder.
“You saved my ass, Kid.” Kint praised, “I won’t forget it.”
The boy looked away, face souring.
He gestured toward the mouth of the alleyway.
“We need to move.” He commanded, meeting Kint’s eyes again.
Kint nodded, understanding.
The boy must be embarrassed about his time as an urchin.
They approached the crossroads cautiously, even though there were no signs of the three Acolytes.
“I’m gonna check the forked road down there, make sure they didn’t double back.” Payter asserted. “You check the main road where we came in, make sure they didn’t circle around.”
The Inspector nodded, glad to have someone who was so confident navigating these complicated streets.
He moved quickly, making sure to keep his steps quiet.
Reaching the main road, he checked both directions thoroughly.
The coast was clear.
“It’s cle–”
Kint gasped as he felt a sharp, hot pain erupt along his side. Breath ejected from his lungs as he reached a hand to the source of the pain.
There was something there…
A knife.
The Inspector turned to see Payter holding the blade in two hands, a sardonic grin on his face.
The Apprentice pulled the knife free with a sickening wet sound.
Strength fled Kint’s legs.
He fell to knees, spilling over onto his back.
The boy had hit a kidney.
Pain shuddered through the Inspector in waves. He could feel hot blood soaking into his dark cloak.
How could this have happened?
How had he not seen this…
Elsha was right.
The boy stepped forward, standing over him.
“I’m sorry, Inspector. You were always kind to me, unlike your partner.” The apprentice began. “If I had things my way, it would be her dying on the ground, not you.”
The boy sighed, shaking his head.
“But, as is always the case, the Blessed are beyond our reach.”
“...Creeper…”
Payter grimaced as the word choked from Kint’s lips like a slur.
He tasted metal on his tongue.
Blood.
“You should have known better, Inspector. You should have listened to our Lord when he warned you.”
The Apprentice Inspector clicked his tongue in derision.
“The distance between us and them is just too great, Kint. We’re like ants to them, forever suffering under the shadow of their apathetic boots. All we can do is get out of the way, or become the heel.”
The boy grinned.
“Guess which one I chose?”
He reached down, wiping the knife clean on Kint’s cloak.
“And we prefer the term Informer, by the way.”
Kint coughed, blood spilling over his lips.
The pain was immense. He’d never felt anything like it. It radiated through him like acid in his veins.
The apprentice Inspector's smile grew.
“The Lord has done many good things for me, Master Kint.” He continued. “And with this, I think I’ll finally get what I’ve been praying for.”
Kint’s eyes widened, as he noticed a familiar darkness forming in the alley behind the young man. The inky tendrils grew, spreading across the walls, consuming all light and color they came in contact with.
The Creeper furrowed his brow in consternation as the look on the Inspectors face changed. He put the tip of his knife to his lips.
“I’m sorry to have to do this to you Inspector, truly I am. But, you see, Credit is a Blessed thing.”
He cocked his head, smiling.
“And I’m afraid I’ll need to bring the Lord your head if I’m to get even a sliver of it.”
The darkness blotted out the sky, the Shroud fleeing its deadly touch.
How could the boy not notice it?
Footsteps echoed from the center of the black mass.
“Let’s get started, shall we?” Payter smiled. “Who knows when Echrus’ boys will be ba–”
The air shifted.
A subtle breeze blew across Kint’s face.
The Creeper's smile turned to a frown.
A look of confusion crawled across his face.
A single bead of blood spilled down his neck.
He coughed, crimson droplets spewing from his lips.
A long dark line grew on the boy's neck, extending all the way around his throat.
Payter fell to his knees, head sliding from its lofty perch.
It hit the ground, rolling across the stones, leaving a trail of blood behind.
The body flopped down beside it moments later.
As his vision began to blur, Kint stared into the lifeless eyes of the vile Creeper, then back up to where the boy had been seconds before.
A dark figure now stood where Payter once had.
The man wore a sharp suit of darkest black. His skin was darker still.
The monster's eyes glowed a mocking crimson and his smile was white with malice.
“That’s twice now I’ve had to save you, Inspector.” It said, voice full of timeless grace. “You’d better be worth it.”
The Shattered stepped forward. Bending down beside him. It laid a dark hand on the Inspectors chest.
The hand rippled with power, warping the air around it.
“This is going to hurt.”
It’s smile grew.
“A lot.”
And it did.
Pain spread through Kint’s whole body. It moved through him like poison, shredding his insides, finding its way to the wound. The dark energy pulled and wrenched at his organs. Smashing cells together forcing tissues to reattach.
Kint could feel himself fading. He couldn't take the pain.
The smiling entity stood over him, eyes burrowing in.
“Sweet dreams, Inspector.”
The world faded, and all went black.