The crowd erupted into chaos. The doors suddenly opened, and the room was flooded with hooded men with knives. They plunged into the crowd; the guards slaughtered anyone who tried to run out. The marble floor was stained red.
One of the hooded men sprinted for Negus and tackled him from behind, causing Ryker to withdraw from the shadows. In an instant, Ryker had a blade in the man’s throat. Blood jetted out and stained the marble statues. The man stumbled back, grabbing his neck and gurgling before collapsing. Five more men rushed over, and Ryker took them on, fading back and forth between the shadows to avoid their strikes.
Dazed, Negus stood and frantically searched the ballroom for Julian. He spotted him on the far side, face-to-face with a guard. Julian pleaded with the armored man, begging for mercy, but the guard thrust his spear through Julian’s abdomen without hesitation.
“Julian, no!” Negus’ voice cracked.
Heat surged through his veins, the tome’s power burning bright within him. Flames flickered to life at his fingertips, crackling with intensity as he focused his will. He could feel the ancient magic coursing through him, a pulsating force demanding release. He cast a fire-bullet forth, and it pierced straight through the guard’s steel helmet. The man crashed to the floor, lifeless.
Negus rushed to Julian’s side, applying pressure to the gushing wound. Julian gasped for air, the color draining from his face.
“I’m sorry. Your father trusted me to care for you, and I sent you away. I wanted to protect you from the council, and I failed,” Julian whispered.
“Stay with me, Julian. We’re going to get out of this.”
Julian’s breathing slowed, each exhale weaker than the last. Negus looked into his godfather’s eyes, and with one final breath, Julian’s muscles relaxed and the light left his eyes. Julian was gone.
Negus closed Julian’s eyes and looked up at Justard on the platform. “Justard! What kind of coward settles disputes this way? How many innocents are dead by your hand tonight?”
Justard laughed, a cruel sneer twisting his lips. “Innocents? Do you truly think any of those people are innocent? Their souls are darker than any common murderer you’d find on the street. They are the true criminals. What they’ve allowed to transpire in this city… even death is too lenient a punishment. You’ve seen it yourself—your whole family murdered in cold blood. That’s how political rivalries end in this rotten city, with merciless bloodshed.”
Negus felt the tome’s aura shift. The air around him turned frigid, colder than any winter breeze he had ever felt. Frost trickled from his fingers as an orb formed between his hands. He launched it towards Justard, and the ball of ice exploded into shards of frosted spikes. The frosty mist dissipated, revealing Justard unharmed, protected by a barrier.
Negus noticed Justard writing arcane symbols on the floor beneath him.
“I’m truly sorry you had to be here for this, dear boy. I tried to spare you from the fate of these swine.”
Ryker appeared next to Negus, his silver mask splattered with blood.
“Ryker, stop him!”
The mercenary withdrew into smoke, appearing on the platform in a puff, and slashed Justard across the gut. But the man had already finished casting the signs.
Justard laughed. “It’s too late. Soon, we’ll all be burning.”
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An overwhelming acidic smell assaulted Ryker. He turned and teleported back to Negus.
“Grab my hand,” Ryker said. “Quick.”
“Why?”
“This place is about to blow.”
“But what about everyone else? We can’t leave them.”
“They aren’t paying me, but you are. If you don’t take my hand now, I’ll leave you here to die with them.”
Negus’ heart pounded. Could he really leave them all to die? The faces of the panicked crowd blurred together, their screams echoing in his ears. But Ryker was right—if he stayed, his death would be just another tragedy in a night of horrors. With a heavy heart, he grasped Ryker’s hand.
They were enveloped in a dark silence, and in the next instant their feet touched a solid surface. They stood on a neighboring rooftop, looking back at the estate. The shockwave hit, shaking their bodies; glass shattered, wood splintered, and the estate was engulfed in scorching flames. Negus dropped to his knees, watching as survivors scrambled to their feet in front of the burning building. The screams of the unfortunate pierced his ears as they were engulfed in flames, rolling to try to put it out, only to succumb to death.
***
Negus and Ryker made their way to the Thorne estate in silence, the weight of recent events heavy on Negus’ conscience. Could he have done more to stop Justard? How had they not seen this coming? The council had presided over Baelon for years—what would happen without them? Lost in thought, Negus nearly walked past the estate.
“We’ve arrived. Wait here, I’ll bring you your gold.”
“Alright, but no funny business. Don’t wanna know what happened to the last guy who tried to cheat me out of a fair day’s pay.”
Negus shoved the iron gates open and made his way inside. He climbed the stairs to his room, retrieved a lockbox from under his bed frame, and opened it with a key from his bag. He took out Ryker’s payment and began to walk outside, but something caught his eye—the tome. It lay flat on his desk, emitting a calming presence. He approached and inspected it. It looked the same as before, yet something felt different. He placed the book in his bag and returned to Ryker.
“Here, Ryker. Every last coin. It’s all there,” Negus said, tossing a coin pouch to Ryker.
Ryker sifted through the pouch for a moment and nodded. “Well, now at least I know you’re a man of your word. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry things played out the way they did back there. If I’d known it’d get that crazy, I would have charged much more. I may have lost quite a few potential clients at that gala. Anyway, if you’re ever in need of my services again, you know where to find me.”
Ryker faded into the shadows, undoubtedly making his return to The Shadow’s Den.
Negus made his way back inside the Thorne manor. The halls felt emptier than ever without Julian’s presence. Though not a blood relative, Julian was still a father figure to Negus, one of the only people he could rely on in Baelon. Negus rubbed his eyes and collapsed in his bed; tomorrow was going to be a long day.
Negus awoke the next morning, grabbed his bag, and made his way to the kitchen. He made himself a simple breakfast: rye toast, a bowl of assorted fruits, and porridge. Sitting down, he reached into his bag and opened the tome, hoping to learn its secrets while eating. He knew the writing was Drakmorian, but perhaps he could recognize a few key phrases. Flipping through the pages, his eyes settled on one phrase: "drator mon vivis," the main motto of the Drakmor, which roughly translates to "From Death Comes Power." He finished his breakfast, picked up the tome, and inspected it thoroughly. “From death comes power?” he thought.
He placed the tome in his bag and made his way to the main hall. In front of him was a portrait of his parents, alongside a bust of King Aelarion, founder of Baelon. He moved the bust and grabbed a key from under it before taking down the painting. Behind it was a lockbox—Julian’s lockbox. Negus recalled Julian’s emphasis on its importance.
“I always found the existence of a treasury to be pointless,” Julian would say. “If we’re going to keep our valuables at home and not at the bank, we may as well make an effort to conceal them. A treasury will merely tell the thieves exactly where to look to steal everything of value.”
Negus opened the lockbox, finding 25 depris (Baelon’s highest value coin, equating to 100 gold each). He stashed the depris in his bag and turned his gaze to Julian’s ring, made from the rare metal dexitorn, found only in the cursed mines of Tavacil. He picked up the ring, remembering when Julian would take him to see the monthly jousting tournaments before he was sent away for his studies. He placed the ring on his right middle finger, a reminder of the complicated relationship he shared with his godfather.
Leaving the manor, he opened the iron gates and took one last look at the vast Thorne estate before venturing onward.