The Merry Minstrel Lodge was filled with the usual hum of activity. Guests lounged in the lobby, their conversations a blend of laughter and hushed tones. The inn's staff moved among them, attending to the needs of their patrons. The serene atmosphere was abruptly shattered by the arrival of a messenger, his demeanor urgent and breath labored from haste.
"I must speak with a guest named Ji immediately," the messenger declared at the reception desk, his voice carrying an edge of desperation. "By order of Magistrate Lachlan."
The receptionist, a composed woman with a professional smile, blinked at the sudden intrusion. Her eyes flickered to the guests who had turned their heads towards the commotion. Maintaining her calm demeanor, she addressed the messenger.
"May I see your Castle badge to verify your identity?" she asked, her tone polite but firm.
The messenger fumbled for a moment before producing the badge, its insignia unmistakable. He held it out for her inspection, reiterating the urgency in his voice. "There is no time to lose."
Upon seeing the badge, the receptionist nodded and called over an usher. "Please take this gentleman to Mr. Ji's room," she instructed.
The usher led the way through the winding corridors of the inn, the messenger close on his heels.
Inside Silas's room, Nyx lay sprawled on the bed in his spread-crow pose, an occasional snore-squawk escaping his beak as he awaited Silas's return or any potential intruders.
The sound of hurried footsteps jolted Nyx awake. His head snapped to attention, eyes sharp and ears honed in on the approaching noise. Urgent knocks echoed through the door as the messenger's voice rang out.
"Senior Ji! His Lordship the Magistrate urgently requests your presence at the Starlight Bidders' Hall! There is no time to lose!"
Nyx rolled to the side of the bed, placing himself before the window. With a mighty swing of his wing, he blew open the window before rolling off and slipping underneath the bed. The sound of shattering glass prompted immediate action from outside.
The usher used his master key to unlock and open the door swiftly. He and the messenger rushed into the room, their eyes darting around until they spotted the broken window.
"It looks like your message was delivered," said the usher with a jesting tone as he surveyed the scene.
The messenger nodded, scratching his head at the bizarre situation. "Indeed."
Satisfied that their task was complete, they both exited, shutting the door behind them.
As soon as they were gone, Nyx rolled back out from under the bed and hopped onto the table. He peered out through what remained of the windowpane and thought to himself, "Fun parts done."
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Lachlan's heart pounded as he sprinted through the corridors of the auction hall, his mind racing with dread. The scene that greeted him upon entering was another nightmare. Bodies lay strewn across the floor, their lifeless forms twisted in grotesque angles. Blood pooled around them, reflecting the dim light like dark mirrors. The air was thick with the stench of death and burnt flesh, a monument to the brutality that had unfolded.
Ignoring the carnage for now, Lachlan pressed forward, his focus solely on catching the perpetrator. His saber within his hand, ready to strike. He pushed through the chaos, his eyes scanning for any sign of movement. The silence was deafening, broken only by the distant crackle of dying flames.
He reached the stage door and hesitated for a moment, unease gripping him as he noticed the eerie stillness beyond. Taking a deep breath, he tightened his grip on the saber and burst through the door.
The sight that met him was even worse than he had imagined. The stage was a scene of utter devastation. Signs of fire and explosions marred every surface, leaving charred remains and smoldering debris in their wake. In the midst of this destruction lay Arim, barely clinging to life. His body was battered and bruised, his breaths shallow and labored.
Beside him lay a young disfigured woman, her pulse surprisingly strong despite her severe injuries. A silver needle near her temple caught Lachlan's eye, offering a clue to what had transpired. He could almost picture the fight: Arim battling valiantly against an intruder, protecting the woman at great personal cost.
Determined to save them both, Lachlan channeled his Qi to strengthen himself. The energy surged through his veins, filling him with renewed vigor as he moved towards Arim and the woman.
"Hold on," he whispered urgently to Arim as he knelt beside him.
Arim's eyes fluttered open briefly, filled with pain and desperation. He tried to speak but could only manage a weak gasp before slipping back into unconsciousness.
Lachlan's gaze shifted to the storage area behind the stage. If the attacker was still here, they needed to be found before more harm could be done. He rose swiftly and made his way towards it, each step echoing ominously in the silence.
The storage area was empty—no sign of anyone or anything. Frustration boiled within Lachlan as he realized he had missed his chance to catch the killer and that he had broken his vow to his guests. With a roar of anger, he struck out with his Qi-infused fist, shaking the very foundations of the hall. The tremors extended across the entire district.
Returning to Arim's side, Lachlan focused on aiding their recovery. He placed his hands over Arim's chest and channeled his Qi into him, willing strength back into his failing body. But as he did so, he noticed something that made his blood run cold: a mark on Arim's back.
"A [Punishment Order]?!" Lachlan yelled in shock.
The words echoed through the devastated hall just as Senior Ji arrived at the scene. His presence, now that he was serious, seemed overwhelming to Lachlan even amidst such chaos.
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"What happened here?" Silas demanded, his voice cutting through Lachlan's turmoil like a blade.
The Magistrate turned to face him, eyes wide with horror and confusion. "An attack… and Arim," he gnashed his teeth "He's been hit with a [Punishment Order]."
Ji's gaze hardened as he took in the scene before him—the destruction, Arim's broken form on the floor, and Emma lying nearby with that silver needle still glinting ominously within her temple.
"Explain," he commanded tersely.
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A few minutes prior to Silas arriving back at the hall…
Nyx had his head buried deep within Silas's satchel, his legs dangling behind him. The crow's beak rummaged through the contents with ease, searching for something specific. He popped his head up suddenly, sneezing as a fine powdery substance coated his beak. Some of the powder fell to the floor, igniting in a light green flame.
Silas stepped over the flame with casual indifference and snuffed it out with a swift motion of his boot. His face was in the midst of shifting back to his "Senior Ji" disguise, the transformation both unsettling and mesmerizing.
"Are you done?" Silas asked, his voice carrying a hint of impatience.
Nyx squawked happily and nodded, then pointed a wing towards Silas's neck, specifically at the Priest’s necklace that still hung there. Silas took it off, shrugged, and tossed it to Nyx. The crow caught it deftly and swallowed it whole in one gulp.
"I am not sure how appreciated that will be," Silas remarked dryly.
Nyx turned his head to the side and shrugged his wings nonchalantly. His eyes shone with mischief as he watched Silas leave the Priest’s mace beside him. With an almost human-like gesture, Nyx waved Silas off towards the window as if shooing him away.
Silas raised an eyebrow at Nyx but complied nonetheless. Fully returned to his original disguise, he leapt through the window with a speed that few could catch with the naked eye.
Nyx waited a few moments before picking up the mace with his talons. With a powerful flap of his wings, he flew off in the opposite direction, leaving behind only a faint rustle in the air.
Silas moved swiftly through Rhysling's streets, his mind focused on their recent spoils: several million Reshal, a handful of useful artifacts and tools—many of which he could use for future bargaining and trade. The increased presence of guards did not escape his notice; clearly, the Magistrate was taking this incident quite seriously.
"What an admirable administrator," Silas thought to himself with a touch of amusement.
He arrived in front of the Starlight Bidders’ Hall just as another regiment of the Imperial Guard marched up. Landing gracefully before them, he immediately grabbed their attention.
"I am Ji," he announced authoritatively. "The Magistrate told me to come here immediately. Is he inside?"
The senior guard answered swiftly, "Yes! The Lord Magistrate rushed ahe—"
Before he could finish, Silas dashed into the building, making his way back towards the stage area.
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Arim in his unconscious state lapsed into another dream. He opened his eyes and was greeted by the sight of his own shaking hands. His fingers trembled as they clutched several pieces of the notorious Blackfall, dark and jagged like shards of a broken nightmare.
The scene around him was one he recognized all too well—Rhysling from a few decades ago littered with the remnants of a brutal slaughter. Bodies lay strewn about, twisted in grotesque forms, their faces frozen in expressions of agony and despair.
His throat felt parched, as if he had swallowed sand. He tried to call out, but no sound emerged. His gaze shifted upward, and he saw the figure in white standing before him. Senior Ji, dressed in his combat robes that seemed to glow with an ethereal purity, his usually messy black hair tied back. Ji's face tilted from side to side as he scrutinized Arim, his expression unreadable.
The longer Arim stared at him, the more imposing Ji seemed to become. It was as if the very air around him thickened with an oppressive weight. Arim felt like an ant before a mountain, insignificant and powerless.
There was not a speck of filth on Ji's robes—no extravagance, no defining marks—just a crude piece of cloth that somehow exuded an aura of despair.
Arim wanted to speak, to plead for mercy or perhaps for penance, but his body refused to obey. He was paralyzed by fear and awe. Ji's foot moved slightly, and something rolled towards Arim's feet. He glanced down and saw half the face of the former Lord Magistrate of Rhysling staring up at him with lifeless eyes.
A gasp caught in Arim's throat as he tore his gaze away from the gruesome sight and looked up again, only to find that Ji was no longer standing in front of him. Panic surged through him as he felt a cold hand grip the back of his neck. A low raspy voice whispered into his ear, "Wake up."
The scene shifted abruptly, dragging Arim back to reality within the Starlight Bidders' Hall. His eyes fluttered open, and the first sight that greeted him was Senior Ji's face—no longer distorted by the dream but still terrifying enough to send a shiver down his spine.
Silas smiled and proclaimed to the people around them, "The Guildmaster will be just fine, he has regained consciousness."
Arim's mind was still foggy from the abrupt awakening. Instinct almost commanded him to scream in fright at the sight of Silas so close to him. However, when he tried to yell out, he realized he couldn't. His eyes darted downward and realization set in—he was still on the ground, covered in needles that restricted his movement and injected him with various healing tonics.
Magistrate Lachlan arrived then within Arim's eyesight. Uncharacteristically for such a composed figure, Lachlan dropped to one knee near him and placed a hand atop his shoulder.
Lachlan then stated, "We've been had."
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Kell sat beside Emma, his heart pounding in his chest. The sight of her, covered in healing ointments, gauze, and various life-preserving artifacts, was almost too much to bear.
He had rushed to the Starlight Bidders' Hall the moment he heard about the attack, driven by a single thought: Emma. But he had arrived too late. The damage was done.
Rhysling guards carried out the deceased, and cleaning staff worked tirelessly to wash away the terrible aftermath. Kell had run through the halls to the main stage, where he had found the Lord Magistrate, Senior Ji, and a multitude of servants tending to the two bodies on the ground. His gaze locked onto a patch of red fabric—Emma's dress. His legs gave way beneath him as he got close, dropping him to his knees.
The servants rushing around ignored him as they worked to maintain Emma's life. Time seemed to slow, and Kell had no idea how long he had been on the ground when a hand landed atop his head, grabbing him in a claw-like grip and lifting him up. Senior Ji's face came into view, a tired but comforting smile on his lips.
"She is alive," Ji said softly. "If you have not yet developed the guts for these sights, for your own sake… I would recommend not looking."
Kell's mind struggled to process Ji's words. "Why would someone hurt her?" he asked in a dazed tone.
Ji released him and straightened up his collar. "We will have to ask Arim to know that," he replied in an exasperated tone. "Based on what I could infer, she was nothing more than a victim of circumstance."
"A victim of circumstance!?!" Kell's rage boiled over as he yelled out, drawing the attention of everyone in the room, even Arim who could barely move his eyes.
Silas quickly slapped the young man, sending him back into another daze. "Don't be an idiot," Silas said sternly. "It is unbecoming of a Sect heir. Instead of showing your rage to me, focus it onto the one who caused this."
The slap knocked the wind out of Kell's sails, allowing him to calm down but leaving him speechless.
"She is alive," Silas repeated in a consoling voice. "Arim is alive and we can find the criminal who did this with their help. Harden your resolve if you wish to help her, stoking your anger will not get her up sooner."
Kell clenched his fists hard at the remark and whispered, "Yes Sir."
Silas turned his attention back to Arim, who lay immobilized by healing needles but conscious enough to witness everything around him.
"Arim," Silas called out sharply, drawing Arim's gaze towards him. "I will remove the restrictions on your speech, endure the pain as best as you can. Time is of the essence, you need to tell us everything you know about what happened here."