90^th of Dusk, 102

“He struck me,” Villam writhed. He peered around the corner of the hallway into the well-lit, vast room, where several lavishly dressed nobles stood, glasses filled with liquor in hand, speaking in a circle. Across them, a group of two was playing music, a young woman sang the old tune of the Wolfbringer while a man played the lute. Among the nobles enjoying the amenities was Archbishop Ovince Kallo, who had, as of late, lost his shame when it came to openly consuming liquor…after all, he was an Archbishop. Who could tell him otherwise? “That bastard, I swear to you, Baron, let me fucking kill him.”

Villam and Baron were conferring in the hallway of the wealthy Carwin Meadery on the outskirts of Tairos. Baron was invited. Villam came with Kallo. Baron frowned.

“They’ve caught us already,” Villam hissed, “their lives shouldn’t be off limits anymore.”

Baron’s eyes wavered. “Only if they get in the way. We can’t risk the guard turning on us.”

“Fuck the guard. Two days from now, and it’s done. If we get them out of the way, what’s the harm? So what if a couple of guards investigate their gutted bodies? Too little too late, I say.”

The head of the Merchant’s Guild sighed. “What do you propose?”

“I’ll send the twins after them. They’ve been scratching at the chance to get Sworn. I say we give them their chance.” Villam’s voice dropped in volume substantially as a maid crossed their path.

Baron waited for her to pass before speaking. “Okay. Set them loose, but tell them to hide the bodies. It’s better nobody finds out about this.”

Villam looked back at the crowd of nobles. “What would you have me do right now?”

“Go. Return immediately after you’ve given them their task. I’ll keep an eye on Kallo.”

“Thank you, brother,” Villam said. Baron tapped him on the shoulder. The bald man left down the hallway.

Baron sighed deeply, wiping his brow. After a second, he returned to the gathering.

Night had fallen on the city of Tairos. The moon was nearly full, peering through the thick clouds. It lit the Varus river that cut through Tairos and all its tributaries, and the misty woods that surrounded the great city. From the North gate of the city, a path stretched up into the woods, multiple side roads leading off into different estates, farms, and lumber mills. On one of the side roads, a dark horse sped through the rain.

The constant squelching of hooves on mulch turned into crisp clicks of hooves on stone, as Villam, hooded in a heavy raincoat, rode towards the city.

Nearly all knew of Aluger Sangros, especially Sentinels. The bane of Aemir, who purged the lands with immense strength. The undead Red King. His roots in the land were long forgotten; however, it seemed his remnants survived through time, the underground chamber in the Tairos Hall being a clear example of that.

The Red Covenant were his children, and now the far descendants of those children had found a sanctum built long ago, and what they planned to do with it was unclear, yet could not come to pass.

Kael, Marcus, and Edith sat in the guardhouse eating quarters. Very few were in the room; however, the voices of guards could be heard below. Edith remained hooded, concealing her presence in public areas.

Marcus scratched his beard. “An undercroft…I haven’t heard of such before.”

“The cellar goes deep in the Tairos hall…at the bottom, the entrance lies. He found it by accident, a trapdoor buried under bookshelves and dust.”

“If he didn’t know it before, then how did they?”

“Aemir knows how they found out…I couldn’t tell you.”

“What else did Victor tell you?”

“He…” The hooded woman looked down, clearly somber. “He only told me they approached him, promised him great power, then he was to make his decision by dawn. When he didn’t go to them, they came to him.”

Marcus nodded empathetically. “I see.” He looked out of a window placed high up on the wall to their right. Night had fallen. “How do you want to get home?”

“I’ll go by myself.”

Marcus frowned. “That won’t do. Kael, stay behind her, put on an overgarment. Make sure she gets home alright.”

Edith stood up. “With all due respect, Sentinel, I came to you by myself. I certainly can leave by myself as well. Besides, the walk isn’t too long.”

“Have it your way.” Marcus shot a look at Kael.

The rain was especially strong that night, made ever more apparent by the hounding thunder shaking the ground. Lightning cackled throughout the air, ushering folk into taverns and homes. Marcus walked through Main Street. He had left the guardhouse after gathering all the papers he had inscribed over the last two days, folding them and tucking them into his satchel. He had already called for help the night they were attacked; however, most of the recent developments had not been sent to the capital.

For Marcus, the Arch-Warden—no, the Grand Archbishop Alcroft must learn what is brewing in the southern city of Tairos. This problem could stretch beyond the church; worst case, a national emergency.

The city gates were up ahead. A few guards manned it haphazardly, playing cards under a rain cover. They smoked and drank, laughing to themselves.

As Marcus passed, they straightened up. “Sentinel,” they echoed. Marcus nodded. The smell of Vino smoke was always pleasant to him—he had tried it once or twice in the past, however he figured it was a habit to indulge in after retirement. He would be excommunicated if he was caught with it while serving.

He was out of the city limits. As the clouds passed by, the moon came in and out of view, shining over the outskirts of Tairos. To his left, woodlands, to his right, swampy wetlands that stretched as far as he could see, eventually met by the glamorous ocean.

The Sentinel continued down the path outside the gates, setting his eyes on a moderate stable not too far from the walls.

Horses lay next to a wooden home, where one part was a small booth under an overhanging roof. Inside the booth sat the inter-city courier. She was smoking a vino pipe like the guards, something Marcus found very un-womanlike.

She exhaled, a large cloud of smoke moving out into the rain and dissipating. As Marcus approached the stand, something caught his eye. Out in the distance, as the road stretched out into the woodlands, a person in a cloak rode a horse up towards the gates, slowly approaching.

“Out pretty late, Sentinel.” The woman smiled. Her voice was too rough for a woman of her youth. Marcus turned his head from the rider approaching from far away towards the woman. 

“Thought I’d pay you a visit.” Marcus stepped closer till he was under the roof of the booth. 

“Oh, how kind of you, sir,” she laughed. Marcus smiled. “So, what do ya need?”

“Another delivery.” He opened his satchel, pulling out the neatly folded papers, wrapped and stamped with the Eye of Aemir, and placed them on the wood in front of him.

“To Evalor?” the woman asked.

“To Evalor.”

“Four chips, please.” Marcus raised his eyebrows; he wasn’t used to paying. Nevertheless, he reached into his satchel again and shifted around. The Sentinel pulled out a coin and set it down in front of him.

“You can keep the change,” he smiled.

“Why, thank you,” she replied, taking the coin. It was one chip extra. “One second,” the young woman said. She grabbed the papers, got up, and left, leaving through a door at the end of the booth.

Now in silence, Marcus heard the thunder louder. Lightning struck, lighting up the wood around him. He turned his gaze back down the cobblestone road. The rider was much closer now, gaining distance every second. It passed a small hut, almost at the gates.

Marcus tried to look at the person on the horse; however, it was hard through the night rain. The hooded figure turned their head towards Marcus as they approached, as if they recognized the Sentinel.

The horse slowed down ever so slightly, and as it passed Marcus, lightning struck, illuminating the shadow under the hood. The face of Villam, the scarred blood mage, was revealed in the night, staring down at Marcus with an unquenchable blood lust.

However, he did not stop; he simply smiled at Marcus as he passed. Not the smile you’d expect, a smile so grotesque it made Marcus wish he were inside.

The rider sped off into the city, speeding up after passing the Sentinel.