As night fell upon Hatlynshire, silence fell upon the countryside that occupied the vast expanse around the city. The moon rose in place of the sun and shone its light upon a lone manor, which sat miles away from the beaten path. The house, known as the Hall of Saint George, was a remarkable sight. It stood three stories tall with a massive tower in the center. Every inch of its walls were etched with sculptures and various patterns. Its boundaries stretched on for what looked like hundreds of meters and shape cast an imposing shadow upon the flat grassy ground.

It was inside this lavish palace that Victor found himself. He sat reclined on a scarlet sofa. He wore a black suits and red waistcoat. But beneath those was his bandage covered chest. He had been summoned to the Hall of Saint George quite urgently. And he couldn’t reject the summons because he knew who had summoned him. The last few days had not been kind on Victor. He had been lucky enough to survive his own assassination. But the gunshots had still dealt some damage. His chest now constantly ached and he had partially lost control of one of his legs. He now carried his walking stick not as a sign of respect but as a necessary tool. Yet amidst all the pain, he was still thankful to have lived. His only regret was that the man he should have thanked for saving his life was no longer among the living.

As he reclined gently on the sofa situated in the middle of room lit by a golden three pronged candelabras, he looked at the man standing in front of him. For in front of him stood possibly the most powerful man in Hatlynshire. He was young man, thirty at most. His face was clean-shaven and had no scars. He had unusually long jet-black hair that stretched down to his shoulders. He was a thin man, his posture more composed than the stillest of statues. He wore a completely black coat that covered his entire body and he wore black gloves to cover his hands. He stood there silently, staring out an eight foot, arch shaped window looking over a green hill. He was watching something. Something bloody. Victor had rarely felt fear when he looked at someone. But he knew that who he stared at now was nothing short of a god amongst a men. A spirit of darkness standing eerily still in the night.

And his name was Timothy Montgomery.

“How are you feeling, Mr. Del Mir? Feeling…healthier?” he said silently. Behind him a blazing fire roared in the fireplace that illuminated the room. The fireplace was made of white marble, and above it was a portrait framed in gold. Victor knew it to be a painting of Saint George Montgomery.

“I feel better than I did yesterday. But my desire for revenge is more than enough to dull the aches” said Victor.

“Well your desires might never be met. As our enemies say your death was justified” he said softly which exhaled slowly.

“THEN THEY’RE LIARS! ALL OF THEM! HOW CAN THOSE CIRCULION FIENDS JUSTIFY WHAT THEY DID TO ME?” Victor screamed in anger. But his sudden shout didn’t even make Timothy flinch. Instead, he simply stared out the window towards the hill. Victor was beginning to understand why he was here. It was no mere invitation made from good intention. It was a questioning.

“I am inclined to believe they’re liars as well, dear Mayor. However, I know the Barons. They do not strike for no reason. They are far too wise for that,” he said. He then turned to Victor yet his posture never changed. He gave Victor is stare so cold that it extinguished his burning anger immediately before replacing it with fear.

“Tell me, Mr. Del Mir. Why do you think they would attack you?” he said. His voice made chills run down Victor’s spine. He stuttered opening and closing his mouth a few times before he could say anything.

“I…I don’t know. I gave them no reason to attack me,” he said. Timothy gave Victor a small grin, as though he found his fear amusing.

“So Mr. Del Mir, you mean to say you were not responsible for the death of the late Baron Ulysses Everton as our enemy claims?”

“What? NO! With all due respect, your grace. Do you think of me as incompetent enough to kill a baron in cold blood?”

Timothy paused for a moment, yet his grim gaze did not falter. He seemed to be pondering something. Timothy then took his sight away from Victor and turned back to the window.

“You know what it means to lie to me, don’t you Mr. Del Mir?”

Victor froze. Sweat began to trickle down his chin. “Why would I lie to you, your grace?” he answered in a subdued tone.

“You know your Hunters obey my every whim. I am their lord and master, the same way I am your lord and master. You understand this concept, do you not?”

“Yes, yes I do!” said Victor nodding his head in a desperate attempt to make sure Timothy understood that he respected him. But Timothy didn’t seem to notice his pleas.

“Then tell me, Mr. Del Mir. Why would our mutual enemy target you mere days after the late baron’s unfortunate death? As I understand it the late Baron Everton came to see you in your office on the day of his death, am I correct?”

Victor tried to compose himself in order to seem less suspicious. He straightened his coat with his hands, sat straight on the sofa, and answered clearly and respectfully. Yet he also tried to add a hint of confidence to his voice.

“Yes, the baron did come to see me. He offered to bribe me! He offered me a million Sorasy so we’d stop our raids! I, of course, declined his foolish offer I had no other business with him afterwards! I…” Victor went on but Timothy simply waved his hand and Victor almost instinctively stopped talking.

“You plead innocence, Mr. Del Mir. You say that this tragedy was devoid of your influence. Yet you still somehow saw retribution coming your way. You knew our enemies would try to take your life. That’s why you went on to that stage wearing metal armor under your clothes. That’s why you’re still alive,” he went on. Victor was beginning to sweat profusely as his confident demeanor began to crumble. It was not often that he felt true fear. That is what be felt at that moment.

Victor watched as Timothy made his way to the desk between the sofa and the fireplace. Victor watched as Timothy opened one of the drawers. From that drawer Timothy pulled out a polished ebony box with shining bronze lock. Timothy then reached into his cloak and pulled out a bronze key. He then used the key to open the lock. Victor felt his legs become weak. It wasn’t the action that frightened him, it was Timothy’s casual demeanor. He watched Timothy gently open the box and take out an object. The object was pure black and shined in the candle light. It took Victor a few moments to realize what it was.

Victor felt a sense of dread wash over him when Timothy laid the object on the table and turned it to face Victor. What faced him was a skull, its surface coated in a black substance and its eyes hollowed and dry. It stared at Victor with an emptiness similar to that of an abyss. Its teeth were clean and perfect and from Victors perspective it looked like it was staring him with fury. Timothy took the skull into his hand and walked towards Victor. Yet he never let the skull’s gaze leave him.

“So tell me Mr. Del Mir, how did survive?”

Timothy held the skull up to Victors face. It was then Victor sensed the smell. The skull… it smelled like rotten blood. Victor suddenly realized why the skull was black. He looked at the skull with wide eyes, his neck running with sweat.

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“It was Harny!” he said. “Harny told me that there would be an attempt on my life. He said I should get ahead of it. He told me to step onto the stage! He said if I did, they would certainly try to kill me there! Therefore, I went prepared. And thanks to him, I am alive”

Timothy raised his eyebrow curiously. He then took the skull away from Victor’s face and towards his chest. “Really now? And do you know how Maxwell Harny found out about this?”

“He…he said he got a tip, a message from someone in the Circle. Someone connected to our Treasury. They apparently told him that the Circle would come for my head. That they blamed me for the bombing! He never showed me the message outright. I would have questioned him more after the fair. But that wretched gunman shot him down. He was a fool to stay up on that stage”

Victor saw Timothy put his hand to his chin. “Hmmm…” he heard as Timothy say as he pondered while looking out the window.

“If that is so. If Mr. Harny was indeed right and truthful, then perhaps the Circle isn’t as invincible as we thought. If there truly is a man who is willing to betray them, perhaps we can use that”

Timothy then turned his body towards Victor, yet he still looked at the hill. “If the Circle attacked you for nothing. If they framed you for a crime, a crime you never committed. Then the right of retribution rests in our hands. In that case, we have a just reason to cause a little suffering for our enemy”

“YES!” said Victor quiet ecstatically raising his voice. His need for vengeance came rushing back along with a sense of ease once he thought that Timothy believed him. “WE WILL BURN THEN DOWN! WE’LL DRAG THOSE WEALTHY SCUM AND HANG THEM IN FRONT OF CITY HALL LIKE THE DAYS OF TERRANCE! WE WILL…”

Before Victor could finish his loud and ambitious statements, he felt a sudden, all-consuming pain envelope his face as something smooth and large hit him directly in the nose. Before this, he saw Timothy stare at him for a split moment before seeing nothing was flash of black cloth. The force of the strike was so much that it propelled his large body off the sofa and onto the red carpet that laid on the floor. Victor felt dazed as the pain persisted. His eyes became blurry for a few moments. But once he gained his sight again all he saw was Timothy standing over him with the skull in his hand. The skull itself was now stained with blood. Timothy’s eyes were darker than midnight, and to stare into them was to star into an abyss of eternal torment. Victor found himself shivering as the younger man took his gloved hands and started spreading the blood on the skull as though it were ointment.

“Do not…” he began but then paused momentarily. “Test. My. Patience. I have already allowed you shout like a child in front of me once, Mr. Del Mir. Next time, it will perhaps be the last time you every shout”

He then once again returned to staring at the window. Victor slowly made his way back onto the sofa. He face still rattling with pain. But Timothy didn’t care.

“I shall call upon the Saint-Legaciers and we shall have a discussion about our next course of action. I suggest you reside here for the time being, away from the city”

“But…my grace…” Victor said weakly. “I must be…in the city… for my mayoral duties”

“Oh do not worry about those. I shall put a figurehead in your place temporarily. For now you stay here. The days you spent in the city after the shooting were risky enough. We cannot have the public or the Circle knowing you’re well. As far as the public knows, your condition is being withheld for security purposes. As far as our enemies know, you are dead”

He then saw something happen on the hill. Victor saw him smile. He then went back to table and placed the skull on it. He then went and opened another drawer from which he pulled out a golden mask. The mask was shaped like a bearded man with intricately etched hair. It’s eye slots were hollow and it was made of pure, glistening gold.

“I suppose you brought your mask,” he asked as put the golden mask on his head. Victor nodded weakly. He reached into his coat and too pulled out a mask similar to Timothy’s one. But the difference was that his was mask made of silver and depicted a younger face with no beard. Timothy then made his way to the door, but he momentarily paused when he passed Victor, who was still struggling to get out of the sofa.

“And before we go, Mr. Del Mir” he said while staring down at Victor, his voice now muffled due to the mask. “If this whole ordeal turns out to be an elaborate trick. Then I swear you will regret it. It will benefit you to keep in mind that hold more reverence for the barons than I do to you,”

“There…is…no trickery. I…only wish to serve…you loyally” Victor said with great pain as the aches in his face had still not faded.

Timothy then made his way out of the room and he headed straight towards the front door. Victor put on his mask and slowly limped behind Timothy. As Victor emerged from the massive palace and onto the front yard, he saw Timothy walking casually to the side and through a gap in a hedge wall. Victor did his best to follow him. The gap in the wall led to a path beaten into the grassy ground, a path that led directly up the hill. It was dark outside but there were torches strewn about the outside of the palace and all along the pathway. Victor himself could see a small light shining from the very top of the hill. He could see the faint movement of two men alongside it.

Victor followed Timothy all the way up the hill. While Timothy climbed the pathway with relative ease, Victor found it much harder due to his many pains. Nevertheless, Victor managed to keep a steady pace and make it to the top not long after Timothy. And it was only when he reached the top did he realize why Timothy was so fixated on the hill. At the top, he found two men wearing all black coats with silver buttons and wearing masks that resembled the faces of angels. One of them was holding a torch and next to them was a pile of firewood stacked around a large wooden pole, which was fixed to the ground.

And tied to that pole was man covered in blood.

Victor’s eyes widened when saw the heavily mutilated and blood covered man strapped to a pole like a common animal. He realized that it was young man, a man with his nose broken, his teeth shattered and his skin torn and covered it blood. He looked barely alive, but Victor saw him breath with immense difficulty. The man’s clothes were torn and most of the intact bits were covered in blood. Victor could from the pieces of cloth that were still untainted that the man had worn a yellow suit. And it only when he noticed this did he realize who he was looking at.

“No…” he said in shock, he wasn’t sure whether to feel pity or excitement. But he did feel a sense of joy when he saw that the man who had caused him all his pain was now tied before him in chains.

“We managed to catch him shortly after your incident. He didn’t even put up a fight. We have been ‘questioning’ him for the past few days. And so far he has given us nothing” said Timothy staring at the man with a sense of almost admiration for his sheer resilience.

“What do we know about him, your grace?” asked Victor, curious to more about the man that had almost killed him.

“We know he is of the most elite order in the Circle,” said Timothy.

“The Gratousy, sir” Victor heard the Hunters say in subdued tones. “He is trained to be of unbreakable mind. We cannot get anything out of him; he will die before betraying his liege barons”

“Well then, I suppose it’s best we make a show of him while he is here. Might as well enjoy his death for all the effort we put into trying to break him” said Timothy with a casual tone so far removed from the gruesomeness of the situation that it made Victor shiver. Timothy then gestured the Hunter holding the torch to give it to him. He then turned to Victor with the torch in hand. Victor almost instinctively took a step back as Timothy looked at him, his eyes completely shrouded in black due to his mask.

“Do you wish to do the honors, Mr. Del Mir?” he asked with a niceness that Victor felt was almost alien.

“Why yes, our grace. Thank you” he said politely taking the torch into his hand. He then turned to the bloody man. He saw him twitch and move slightly, almost as if he wished to lunge at Victor. Victor saw that he eyes were bloodshot, but they still displayed fury. At the last minute, the man tried to pit at Victor, but his lips did not move so instead the spit merely dripped from his lip to the firewood. Victor took a deep breath and held the torch over the firewood, he then unclenched his am and watched as the torch fell on the wood and lit it ablaze.

Victor, Timothy and the two Hunters watched as the tied man was engulfed in fire. Victor saw the man make one last desperate attempt to escape by trying to fight the chains, but it didn’t work. He heard the man scream for a few minutes before going completely silent. Victor watched with horror, yet he also felt a sense of satisfaction. He had wanted this, yet he had not wanted to see it. The Hunters too had shock and fear hidden behind their trained straight demeanor. Meanwhile Timothy looked at the flame with awe and fascination as the light reflected his mask. He felt no fear or remorse.

“What better way to mark the coming of new age” he said with confidence and happiness. “I feel as though his is an omen of triumphs to come, don’t you?”

Victor nodded weakly. There was only one answer he could give to Timothy, “Yes, your grace. Yes I do.”