“Killer, rogue, and noontime drunk. Fascinating!”

The abrupt announcement took Roland by surprise, causing him to jerk his head about to come face to face with Korvin. The wizard threw him a knowing smirk and slid easily into the chair opposite the witch-hunter, instantly souring his lunch. How he had found him here, at an obscure little tavern on the furthermost edge of Frolingen, that was beyond him. At times it was frightening, just how easily Argus was able to keep track of all that was happening in the city. It made him thankful they were on the same side.

And yet he was in no mood to talk to the foreigner, and did his best to ignore him. Simply turning back to the tankard of ale before him, draining it in one swift motion.

I need to be more drunk for this interaction. He thought to himself miserably.

The smug smile never vanished as the Ruthenian spy rapped his fingertips against the table, gaze boring into Roland in judgmental mockery. A damnable nuisance, that was all that could be said for the man, the Malthorian thought as his nose scrunched in annoyance, mouth twisting silently as he contemplated whether or not to say anything in response to the man's interruption.

And that abominable perfume. Just why.

“Come now Roland, it was all in jest,” the foreigner said easily, gesturing for the bartender to bring a fresh jug of ale.

“What do you want, Korvin?” he said bluntly, meeting the sorcerer's eyes and furrowing his brows.

“Nothing more than a friendly conversation,” the wizard said sarcastically, “What else could I desire.”

“I'd rather not contemplate,” the witch-hunter replied, his voice as flat and emotionless as he could manage.

The wolfish grin on the man's face spread broader at that answer, as if it was precisely the response he had hoped for.

“You were going to the Spire-guard?” he asked, the question innocuous in tone yet clearly aiming for a most specific response.

“What business is that to you?” he asked harshly, unwilling to humor the Ruthenian agent's prying.

“Oh, come on now, everyone here knows you go there, even old Argus mentioned it, but I am simply curious what you are hoping to find there.”

“The real question is, what are you hoping to find here,” Roland jabbed back acidly, not wishing to give the wizard any information.

“Oh, me? That's simple. I am here to see the balance of power restored,” the man said with a small smirk, “Independent Frolingen controlling the passes through the Telos mountains. Astana driven out. Ruthenia stays on its side of the range. A restoration of the status quo so to say. And something to set back Charles' growing ambition.”

“Great.”

“You cannot pretend you do not care, Roland, we both know you have fought for Frolingen before,” the mage said emphatically, nodding his thanks as his ale finally made its way to the table.

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

“And Astana before that,” the witch-hunter snorted derisively, “What are you trying to get at?”

“The situation here is difficult. Of that you are aware, and I am looking for new angles from which the cause may be approached. New ways to avoid this nasty business of annexation. Ways to help the insurrectionists here, and see that balance restored, and if you have any help to offer, it would be much appreciated."

"If Argus wants something done, he will ask me himself."

An amused expression crossed the wizard's features as he sighed Roland up, squinting ever so slightly as he mulled over his words.

"You're looking for the saint's tomb, aren't you?" Korvin said finally, surprisingly quiet and muted in his tone.

Roland pursed his lips for a moment, attempting to mask his surprise at the revelation. How the sorcerer knew, he was not sure. But there was no point in lying, his own eyes slit in silent scrutiny, but he nodded his agreement.

"And you didn't find it there, in the Spire-guard?"

"No. No we did not."

In fact, they had found very little, most of what remained had long been picked clean and looted by various scavengers and criminals. Most but not all.

"So why go there? It doesn't make sense- Surely- Surely others have tried."

"We were supposed to seek any clues. For the archivist Rikard. He had a hunch. Thought he could finally find Saint Malthor, after all these centuries," the witch-hunter said wistfully, "Resting at the site of his greatest battle. So said the book. He wanted another look. To see what may have been missed. So he sent us."

The wizard's eyes flickered for the briefest moment, flitting around them as he took in Roland's words, as if recognizing some deeper meaning behind what he had said.

"The site of his fall," Korvin nodded finally, yet his mind seemed to be focused elsewhere, "And nothing?"

"No, nothing," Roland lied, thinking about the Saint's Cross in his pocket.

That supposed key to a treasure of great import. Perhaps even the Saint's tomb itself. Yet it did him no good when he could not find it. He almost laughed at the thought. It might as well have been nothing for all the good it had done them.

But the old man had been right. The prior expeditions had missed something. And that meant there could still be more to find up there, beneath the snows and rubble of the Spire-guard. More to uncover, more aid for the search at hand. There had to be. Roland had to believe there was.

"You think you will find it?"

"There's always hope," Roland said with a small smile.

"True. There is," the wizard acknowledged, "But if you haven't found anything until now-"

"It doesn't mean I stop. I'll visit every damn ruin I have to, from Rauheim to the Spire-guard, and sooner or later, I will find the clues I need," he tried to inject some force behind his words, yet truth be told he no longer harbored any real illusions about his chances.

He had made a vow. An oath to do so. They all had, and now he was the only man left to complete the task. The only one who could keep the tomb and its secrets out of the hands of the order's enemies. It was the principle of it all.

"Admirable, truly, it is," the wizard said, the tone coming across sickeningly sincere, "Perhaps we could work together on the matter. I do, after all, have some knowledge on the myth and rumor that surrounds this region. I could help you. It would be for the benefit of the common cause no doubt, denying the opportunity to the King's forces."

"Most generous, but I think that will be quite unnecessary," Roland said coolly. He was no fool, and had no doubt as to Korvin's intentions. The man would want to seize the tomb's contents for himself and for Ruthenia, something Roland was hardly going to allow.

"As you wish," the wizard said with a small laugh. Not even the slightest trace of disappointment seemed to linger in his words, as if the matter did not really annoy him. For the briefest moment, Roland almost regretted his behavior. Perhaps the man's sincerity was genuine.

No. He stopped himself almost immediately, thinking back to the sigil the sorcerer bore around his neck. The leering skull. The same emblem as the one in the ruins of Boure's barn. No, something about the man remained amiss. He would do well to guard himself until he knew more of the foreigner.

"Strange, we have a visitor," the sorcerer said quietly, the sudden words interrupting Roland's line of thought.

The wizard's eye twitched as he raised his head to face the entrance, as if in anticipation. Following his gaze, Roland glanced up, only for the taproom doors swing open, admitting a harried-looking Louis. The man's gaze swept around the cramped room quickly, immediately settling on the pair as they sat together.

"Korvin," he said breathlessly, "Korvin, we have to talk."

"What's wrong?" the wizard asked, as cool and calm as ever.

"There's been an incident."

"Huh?" Roland raised a brow in confusion.

"You should come too, we're going to need you," Louis said, glancing between the witch-hunter and the mage, "Both of you. We have a problem. Down in the excavations. Petaine. Garnier's son. They're dead. They've been annihilated."