89^th of Dusk, 102

“How long have you all been here?” Marcus asked.

“Hm,” Baron grunted. “You Sentinels have always been blind to our way of life.” Night had arrived, and the two were walking down the well lit docks by the riverfront. The South Western area of Tairos was mainly residential houses lining the riverfront, some wealthy enough to have boats tied outside. It smelled like dinner. Marcus’ stomach growled accordingly.

“How were you ever able to recover?” the Sentinel said.

Baron chuckled. “Just because you hurt us in Kamvel doesn’t mean you hurt us here.”

“We didn’t just hurt you,”—Marcus grimaced—“we…why did you come back?”

“We were always here, Marcus.” The Sentinel had felt comfortable introducing himself earlier. He had never had a civil conversation with one of Baron’s kind…he wanted to understand. “We’ve been here since our Father arrived centuries ago.” Aluger Sangros.

“Then…then why now? Why do this now?” Marcus decided to leave out the fact he knew that they were planning something for a specific day in the Tairos Hall…He figured giving up that information would make them extra cautious on that day.

“It’s funny you say that. What were we doing in Kamvel? What did we do to deserve…that?”

Marcus sighed. “What…what happened in Kamvel happened. You think we enjoyed what we did?”

The blood mage looked down towards the river. His eyes narrowed, cheek twitching as if remembering days of past. “Your friend Jon Drayton sure seemed to be having the time of his life.”

Marcus frowned. “You—you were there?”

“I was.”

Marcus stopped walking. Baron followed suit, looking at the Sentinel with a hint of confusion. After a silence, Marcus spoke. “I…” The scene returned to his head—no matter how hard he tried to push it away, it always came back. The family pressed against the wall, the children screaming, the wind blasting through the open windows. “What we did…I denounce it.”

Baron studied the Sentinel, trying to mask his confusion. “…What?”

Kael struggled under the pinning arm of Draven, desperately trying to escape. He’s clearly using Fuel to keep me pinned. The pressure was ungodly—what you would expect from a blood mage.

“Embarrassing,” Draven scoffed, “you train all your life to kill us, only to fail so miserably.”

Sweat trickled down from Kael’s temple, dripping into the dirt. This feeling was new to him, this indescribable emotion, gripping his ribcage and blazing in his mind. This feeling of unrest, of potent violence. He stared into Draven’s eyes; the feeling strengthened. It rendered him speechless; all he felt was a desperate need to escape this position and repay it in full. He gritted his teeth.

“You’re lucky,” Draven said, “your status is the only reason you’re alive…remember that. If it were up to me,”—he placed the knife by Kael’s cheek—“I would have cut you into unrecognizable pieces and dumped you in this river, like the trash you are.” A burning sensation similar to his arm permeated in the Sentinel’s cheek. Draven had cut it.

That was the last thing Kael remembered.

“You…a slave of the church…denounce their orders?” said Baron.

Marcus paused. “I do.” 

The leader of the Red Covenant furrowed his brow. Then smiled. “Disagreeing with the church, that’s heresy. I ought to kill you for your crimes.”

“I am loyal to the church, but that doesn’t mean I agree with everything they do.” Marcus continued walking down the docks, Marcus following by his side. “I may have empathized with you in Kamvel…but what you are doing here…it’s simply cruel.”

“An eye for an eye.”

“How did Cara Amsat wrong you?”

“How did my wife wrong you? How did my children wrong you? This has been a long time coming, Sentinel. I have accepted their death as a tragedy of war, like I have accepted Victor Heron’s death as the same. Our conflicts bring about pain for everyone around us…you should know that better than most.”

“And you wouldn’t do anything to stop it? You know what the end of this looks like, it has happened before. So, why?”

“Who said this would end the same way? You don’t think we learn from our mistakes?”

“I think you’re foolish to risk this. You’re making a mistake…Sentinels will be here sooner than later, whether you kill us or not.” He paused, unsure if whether or not he should speak the next few words. “Jon Drayton will be here.”

It was a useless bluff, and maybe both knew it. There would simply not be enough time for the Sentinels to arrive in time. Word would have to reach the capital by bird, on the other side of the nation, then reinforcements must come. It would take around week till help arrived, the same amount of time it took them to learn of Victor Heron’s disappearance and come to Tairos. By then, their plans for the night of the 92^nd would have taken place.

Baron recognized this, yet still couldn’t mask his resentment. “Let him come; I wouldn’t grant him a modicum of the audience I’ve granted you. I’d love to make him bleed myself.”

“We both know that won’t happen. You, and everything you’ve come to build…it’ll all die if you don’t leave.”

“You’re not in a position to be advising me. Call for all the reinforcements you want.”

Marcus clenched his teeth, unable to think of how to proceed. “What are you planning?”

Baron chuckled at the question. “How much did the Archbishop tell you?”

Marcus picked his words carefully. “That the Merchant’s Guild is the Red Covenant, and that you’re the leader…oh…and that Draven Vale runs the inn we stay at.” Kael should have him by now.

“Oh, really?” Baron studied the Sentinel for any sign of deception.

“Draven Vale, how could I forget…My partner has him in chains. Maybe if you won’t tell us what you’re planning, he will.”

Baron’s eyes narrowed. “Your partner has restrained Draven?”

Marcus put on an air of confidence. “Yes.”

The blood mage stopped, and tilted his head questioningly. After a while, he grinned. “If Draven followed my instructions, your partner might still be alive.”

“Are you sure about that? From what I’ve heard, my partner is the next Jon Drayton.”

“You haven’t seen Draven fight, have you? He’s the most skilled of us I’ve ever seen. More potential and strength than his father.”

“His father was the captain, wasn’t he? Lucian?”

“Yes.”

“I remember him. He certainly was strong.”

“Too strong for Drayton.”

Marcus sighed. “Remind me, who won?”

Baron didn’t answer. “I pray for your partner. If he really did try to fight my nephew, I hope he’s not dead. I wouldn’t want the trouble; the whole city would be on us. Hopefully his temper is under control.”

Suddenly, a voice sounded from away. “Uncle.”

Both men turned in the direction of the sound. Further down the docs, a short, bulky figure was approaching. When he got closer, Marcus recognized him as the innkeeper—no, as Draven Vale. The moonlight provided a detailed view of his face; there was slight bruising on the side of his eye. Other than that, he was unscathed. Did Kael lose?

Draven glared at Marcus. “Thank my uncle for sparing your partner’s life. He’s down by the river, probably still asleep. I recommend you check on him.” How?

Marcus was speechless.

Baron looked at his nephew with pride. He turned to Marcus. “I believe we’re done. To be honest, I don’t want to kill you. When we heard of your arrival, we wished that you would buy our tale of why the Archbishop went missing and simply left, but you were too smart for your own good. I am a man of peaceful solutions, so here is my advice. Leave this city and tell the Arch-Warden that Victor Heron left the city on his own accord. If you’ve already alerted them that there are blood mages here, then leave and abandon your duties, go far away, and never show your face in the church again. If you choose to stay and interfere, I will not treat you with the same mercy I’ve given so far. I will not hesitate to send your remains to the capital.” He paused, then turned around and began walking away. Draven followed behind. “Go, tell your partner it’s over.”