“

I sat as I watched people I knew die. I killed, stole and tortured, just for this moment… I've been forcing this smile on a face that couldn’t reflect happiness, a soul that never knew camaraderie, an existence that remained in this world solely because of a chance to reunite with the ones I cherished.

”

One of the reasons no one has broken into the Palace, was the fact that its halls formed an intricate maze. Every hallway looked the same, white walls adorned with designs made from gold and silver, flowers in golden pots hung from the ceiling and gave off a multitude of various smells. One would encounter a door every now and then, also white, with golden decorations and handles shining in the ever present light that seemed to shine even in places where no windows were present and no candle was lit. The staff must have gotten some kind of training or at least a magic item that would tell them where to go, because any normal person would…

“Get lost…”, I sighed as I took a corner and saw an intersection of corridors I’ve seen at least five times already. Sneaking into the Palace was already hard enough, avoiding guards and servants even harder, but trying to keep on route within this darn amalgamation of rooms, doors and corridors was nigh impossible. 

Suddenly, I sensed a presence near me. A presence that differed greatly from those the Palace staff had. This one was soaked in bloodlust even though it was well hidden, it seeped through the cracks in their masking technique.

They were hiding behind the next corner, like a spring ready to snap and hurt the one foolish enough to have their hands too close. 

That being said, I didn’t have to go through there, right? As if there’d be someone stupid enough to walk into a trap while knowing there’s one. That would be ridiculous, right? I almost made a step sideways to go through a different corridor, having deduced that I should not go through the trapped corridor, as a figure emerged from the said corridor.

“You are as clueless when it comes to orientation as she said”, the figure’s voice was sharp and easily recognisable.

“I don’t want to hear that from someone wearing rags like yours, Zogro the fish vendor.”

With daggers in both hands, Zogro stood before me. His face was partially obscured under a violet hood, the lower part of his face hidden beneath a violet cloth. He wore an old garb that probably hadn't left a closet for at least a decade. No need to say that the color of the garb was also violet.

“Do you know, Gavro, what, or rather whose rags I currently wear?”, he asked me in a calm tone while tossing his knives from one hand to another, “I guess you wouldn’t know. You should be honored, for I am none other than the right hand of the Violet Cloaks!”

Upon this declaration, he made an over-exaggerated gesture as he bowed.

“Now then,” he said, “let us battle out the right for passage. Just like the old times.”

As soon as these words escaped his lips, he leapt straight towards me at an incredible speed. The fight was inevitable.

Listen, Gavro, your face betrays everything you think. It doesn’t matter that you’re the master of a syndicate, nor does it matter how many people you kill, lie to and cause pain to, you never managed to get used to it. You wear your sins much like the garb I currently wear. The only difference between us is that I left those feelings behind on the bloodsoaked garb and put it away. You tried to deny your garb by forgetting, but the memories came back after all, didn’t they? Gavro, there’s no escape from guilt, stop trying to deny it. Grasp it with your hands and wear it like a crown of thorns. Let it pierce your soul, accept the pain and anger, and atone.

Running doesn’t work, and I tell you as a professional runner. Being the right hand of a massive criminal group meant doing things most people wouldn’t. We trafficked humanoids to be slaughtered and sacrificed by the demonic cults for money, we killed, we stole, we pillaged, we… There was so much blood drawn just because of the orders I gave and much more blood was drawn by my own hands. These daggers… They claimed countless lives. And yet, I was able to move on, to serve the Inquisition in order to atone for my sins, to come to terms with my past self. 

Gavro, I have no idea why you do the things you do, and it ain’t up to me to judge it in any way, but your denial makes me hate you so much more than I hate myself. Wake the fuck up, master of the Black Hand, gaze upon this world with the eyes filled with emotion, instead of denial.

Swing

One of the daggers dropped on the ground as I pierced his hand with my rapier. I truly didn’t want to fight him. I had no business with him. He wasn’t important. And yet… I could feel something break within myself. No, it wasn’t one of my torn muscles, damaged by precise slicing attacks and jabs, it was something deeper.

“He isn’t lying”, it said deep within myself, “Maybe… Try it”

As soon as the realization of the words’ meaning hit my head, the world around me started to warp.

“NO, NOOOOOOO!”

I cried as I saw the houses burn down. Screams, sounds of people running, the warmth of huge flames. I couldn’t care what happened to the other people, all I wanted was to…

My thoughts were interrupted by soul-piercing, pained wails that came from somewhere inside the houses. After that, sounds of something trying to break down the doors, the walls, any part of the buildings engulfed by the scorching flames that could hinder the escape of whatever was inside it could be heard. The stench of burned flesh was nauseating and overwhelming to such a degree that I could feel stomach acid climbing the back of my throat in an attempt to escape its fleshy confines.

This is when I heard a loud crash somewhere nearby. I tried to look in the direction of the sound, my eyes still full of tears. Seems like the wall of one of the houses collapsed, making it possible to look inside it. With my eyes constantly assaulted by smoke, I tried to discern something between the raging flames. 

A few burning figures slumped against the wall. Burned to a crisp, a horrible, painful death. Some of the figures had what seemed to be some kind of weird growth on their body. Upon squinting  my eyes, I could barely make out the purple color of the growth. Fungus, they were infected. This town is being burned because of that…

This is when I felt a tug on my sleeve. “Brother…”, I heard a hesitant voice to my left. Turning my head, I was greeted by a child, about the same height as I when sitting on the ground, engulfed in flames. Its hair has mostly burned off, leaving the remains to fuse with the skin that was melting due to the heat. It didn’t scream, it didn’t run or try to put out the flames that ate away its body. It just stared at me with its eyes, the eyes I remembered well, the eyes that followed me everywhere I went. The eyes whose gaze I could feel when laying in bed at night, staring at me from the darkness of my soul.

“Eileesha, I am so, so sorry. I couldn’t… I didn’t save you.”, the words were bitter, full of resentment. Saying them left behind a terrible feeling. It was all my fault. And the fault of the Fungus and the darn Empire that burned itself in the hopes to stop it. 

“Brother, you shouldn’t…”, she tried to caress my cheek with her hand, the flesh of which had already burned off. I could feel the bones of her fingers touch me in an attempt to bring comfort, yet all it brought me was even more pain. I hated it. Because of my foolish cowardice back then, because of my lack of strength, because of the infections… So many reasons, yet there’s but one result: I didn’t save her. It was too late for mother and father, their infection had progressed way too fast, but Ei, she was still fine. Her death was meaningless, she was innocent, she should have survived. If only I had found the courage and saved her from the wrecks of the burning house, maybe everything would’ve been different. 

I embraced her, her figure becoming thinner and thinner as the fire consumed her.”Don’t worry, Ei”, I whispered as my clothes caught on fire, “I will fulfill the contract and get you back. Just wait a little bit more. I will not make the same mistake twice.”

“Y-you shouldn’t, I already died, didn’t I? You’ll be putting yourself through so much pain just to…”

“You did die, however, it was my inaction and cowardice that killed you. You should’ve been alive, dammit! We talked about this already! I will do what is needed and get you back, hear that, Death? I will use every ounce of this burning hatred to fulfill our agreement. I will crush all who stands before me, so you better hold on to that soul a bit longer or else I’ll drag you into the depths of the deepest underworld together with me!“

My vision grew blurry once more. All colors started to mash, the world around me started to take on a new hue. Before, all I saw was the lifeless gray reality, now it was painted red. 

I left the hallway in a hurry, leaving the man in violet garb barely alive on the floor. I never liked killing, but that didn’t mean I was going to go easy on those who opposed me. Zogro was a good fighter and a skilled assassin, but he lacked determination. He lacked a goal. The wounds he inflicted upon me felt shallow and incomplete. Disarming him wasn’t too difficult, all that remained was to make sure he won’t walk away and alert anyone too soon. I pierced his legs and arms, I punctured one of his lungs, I kicked him in the gut. All this cruelty will give me as much time as it takes for a random servant to find him, so I had to haste myself.

The next set of corridors was rather straightforward, it seems like only the part close to the entrance was a maze, the other parts were made in the same way a normal palace would be. It took almost no time to find the entrance to the throne room. 

The enormous doors adorned with representations of two lions wielding halberds was blocked by an intimidating figure.

“Yo, Gavro, we meet again, don’t we? Hahaha”

Huco stood in front of the door. He wore standard leather armor, making a strong contrast with the greatsword he held with his left hand. The weapon was definitely enchanted by some kind of magic and the materials for making that sword didn’t seem to have been cheap either. He certainly did prepare for this one.

“Why are you here, in my way?”, I wanted to ask as calmly as possible, but the words had left my mouth infused with hatred. Why was this man doing something like this? Who put him up to it?

“You’re probably thinkin’ something like ‘whose setup is this’, ain’t I right? Hahaha.”, he laughed but then his tone changed into a more serious one, “Let me be honest here, they know everything about you. Even if they won’t tell me anything and ask me to stand here to stop you, I will follow their orders. Because they know. Now then, let our weapons do the talking, we waste too much precious time on words and I ain’t too good with them.”

Huco’s huge muscular body charged me as I prepared to counterattack.

I always felt like I couldn’t follow up to my peers when I was younger. Not that I’m old now, but ya know, age starts showing by your forties, even if you’re a hardened warrior. But back when I was in my early twenties, way before all this Fungus situation started, I had a dream. I wanted to become a warmage.

I thought that a warmage was a perfect combination of smarts and brawn, a type of warrior that combined the strengths of both to achieve their goals. So I applied and started pursuing the official warmage recognition paper, a paper given to those who successfully endured the warmage training given by some of the finest warmages in the capital. But I couldn’t.

Years passed and I still couldn’t obtain the recognition. There were no problems with my physique, it was the magic part. As you know, magic requires an immense amount of concentration and knowledge of the building elements of the world. I couldn’t handle the amount of knowledge. I reread the books countless amounts of time, but every time it was as if an invisible hand would pluck all that knowledge out of my head. It was as if the gods themselves were meddling with my progress. When I failed the final exam for the fifth time, I sank into despair.

I blamed everyone and everything: my own stupidity given me by birth, the books, the teachers, the students, the loose cobblestone on the road, the gates of the studyhalls. I hated all of them. The truth was, however, that none of that really mattered. It wasn’t my nor their fault. So I gave up on the dream I had and dedicated myself to training as a warrior, however, sometimes I’d pick a book from the capital’s Main Library and read it. Because, I thought, if there’s even a slim chance, maybe if I read a bit more, then maybe I could be able to properly absorb the knowledge from all those other books. So I read and read and read.

I have no idea what you go through, Gavro, but all I could ask of you, is to not blame anyone. Blaming people, things and yourself won’t get you far. Think of a chance, however small it is, to grasp what you’re searching for. What if you do something differently? What if it  isn’t as bad as you think it is? Maybe those are nothing but empty words for you, but I hope you’ll find hope and relief in their emptiness.

The fight was over in a few seconds. As skilled as Huco was, the fact that the bones in his arm still hadn’t healed completely made his movements sluggish. I was able to parry his initial attack and then lodge the point of my rapier right into the shoulder of his healthy arm through flesh and bone. Being unable to use his sword with just one arm, Huco assumed a brawler’s stance. 

His punches were inaccurate, a clear sign of being out of balance and yet again being slowed down by his injuries. This didn’t mean that his fighting wasn’t anything but sublime. If I didn’t dodge or parry even a single attack, I would’ve been done for. That being said, it doesn’t matter how well a beast can fight when its wounds are dragging it down. Just before I could thrust my weapon through his kneecap, he jumped back and disappeared through one of the numerous windows, breaking the colored glass artwork that decorated it.

Alone once again, I made my way to the giant door. As I walked towards it, memories flooded my head again. They were less violent than before, but were still fierce in a different way. I thought about the contract. an agreement I made with Death itself. Life for a life. Deep inside, I knew my anger didn’t amount to much. Anger couldn’t bring her back, but the contract could. All I have to do is…

“Kill the bastard”

The hollow thought rang through my head as I opened the doors in front of me. The scene was set, now it is time for each of us to play the roles we were assigned.