@Pezz570@Fetzen@13org@HokumPocus@Typical

---

Chaos once again dominated the scene. That man who was leader of the guards that he saw yesterday at the inn, he had reappeared at the tower. Now a fight broke out after a tense argument between his group and the cultists. He quickly followed the others down. Despite the chaos, the path forward was clear as day to him, they needed to get the hell out of here. Even with the guards fighting they were still outnumbered on top of having the power of two sightless. Because of course, Sightless Syella just had to make an appearance.

A graceful weaving of strikes and thrusts would be aimed at whatever Cultist was close. To him this wasn't a battle aimed at winning but incapacitating as many threats so they can retreat. Yet more chaos would happen as there appeared to be cultists infighting amongst themselves. We're these some sort of allies or was the cult less unified than he thought? "WE NEED TO GO!" Karina shouted.There was no time to wonder about that, or rather he could think about that later.

"In there like swimwear!" Was all he said as he followed the others out. He'd hear Chres call out to them. Well it meant that they were close. "Show us the way outta here!" He shouted to Chres.

@fetzen@13org@Jerkchicken@HokumPocus@Typical@Elevation

---

Svephraey sat in a meditative state, alone on the floor to one of the smaller chambers provided to her by The Kharu-Natjer. A lone crystal jade candle illuminated her form from above. Its light a minor distraction in her calm focus.

She had been like this now... for how long? Minutes? An Hour? Maybe longer? Time lost all meaning in this state. Her mind focused. Her body unmoving save for a slight twitch of a finger here and there.

Svephraey frowned as a tickle of pain ran across her neck. She twitched a finger, its movement creating a soft twang. Svephraey could now see green again. To her side, a thin near invisible hair like thread fell away from her scalp and onto the ground. To the common eye, it appeared as a strand of grey hair. Yet those who knew what she could do would know better.

She had been too slow in releasing that one. Yes... that was a bead of blood dripping down her neck. Pity... She had liked this sweater...

Svephraey breathed in, glad that she was currently unable to smell the cold, damp odor she had begun to associate with Shimmer Town’s underground network. She cared not the means of how The Kharu-Natjer came to know of it. She cared not how he found it or even how he managed to scrounge up the coin to procure its many entrances. No… The Kharu-Natjer was one she cared not to question. He was a resource. A resource that paid in plenty. One who had empowered her to break the chains bound to her mind at birth, and help her climb her way to the top of the land's... shadier businesses.

When the The Kharu-Natjer told her about Shimmer Town’s underground tunnels, Svephraey had seen nothing but possibilities. For years these chambers had gone mostly unnoticed by the population above! That alone was showed promise! Sure, there had been a few who had stumbled their way into one of the many hidden entrances. Though most had coughed it up as nothing more than an abandoned cellar, for many entrances lead to nothing more than a small chamber with fake walls hidden away in the stone.

Those that had stumbled across the other entrances, the kind their guests from earlier entered from, had been wise enough to leave these dark passages alone and forgotten. Although, judging from the few corpses they found littering the tunnels, there may have been a few who wandered in. The pups appeared to have gotten lost in the maze of darkness. Alone and forgotten, they either starved to death or died from the cold. Such is often the price of foolishness.

The network itself was quite intricate. Its corridors snaked in all directions -up, down, left and right- forming an intricate labyrinth centering on larger hub chambers. These chambers, in turn, wrapped around an even larger chamber. One that even had access to an underground lake. It's waters apt for drinking.

The larger chambers had been fitted with many tiny ventilation tunnels that lead up to the surface. This allowed for the use of fires to keep warm. The remainder of the labyrinth, however, had scarce ventilation, giving it a cold, stale smell. It was one of the tunnels less stellar features, especially since it made lighting the labyrinth a nightmare!

Light by torch was an impossibility. Doing such would lead to smoke accumulating in the chambers with nowhere to go. Crystal jade candles were the obvious solution. A solution requiring an commodity that was not only expensive, but scarce as well. This meant that until they came into the possession of more crystal jade, much of the network would remain in darkness.

The crystal jade candles they did have were placed strategically throughout the labyrinth. Much of it had gone to the larger chambers. The Kharu-Natjer emphasized the importance of keeping large areas blanketed in light so as to keep the spacious area’s existence hidden from the Sightless above.

The remaining, larger candles went towards other strategic points, such as at the labyrinth’s entrances, or in many of the commonly used corridors. A few even lay in some of the network’s smaller chambers occupied by The Kharu-Natjer slaves and guests.

This left very little crystal jade candles available for the less frequently traversed tunnels. These last few candles were left at the entrances of such passages when possible. Such passages had at least two of The Kharu-Natjer slaves standing by at all times. When one needed to traverse said tunnels, they would do so with one of the slaves. Candle in hand, the slave would act as a guide. Lighting the way through the darkness.

Performing her tasks basked in light had been an odd experience for Svephraey. Much of her work was often done under cover of shadow. For as long as she could remember, the darkness had been her friend. An ally who shielded her from prying eyes. What was it to her now though? What would it mean for her to live in a world where she couldn’t trust the dark to shade her from unwanted attention?

Imagine carrying out theft, trafficking, assassinations and kidnappings during the day! True, her abilities would mitigate any impact on her specifically. Her organization's criminal activities, however... Well... such restrictions would surely ruin them. It was a concern for later. A concern that needed to not be addressed should the cult’s spread be throttled.

Yes… For now her only concern was to help The Kharu-Natjer put an end to this Seed of Insight. Once it was gone, she could go back to was she did best. The thing Svephraey was known for.

The Marionetteer. That was what they called her. A name whispered in the shadows. A name the little pups feared. A fitting name, she supposed, even if it was truly just a mishmash of words. It worked just as well as the name Svephraey... and every other name she used.

Another twitch of the finger follow by a twang. A second strand of grey hairlike thread fell away to her side. This time she had been fast enough to cut away the connection before absorbing the killing blow received by the body on the other end. Unfortunately, this meant she could now smell the tunnel’s odor, yet again. Such a bother...

Yes… The name Marionetteer suited her quite well. A faceless puppeteer, hidden in shadows. The world was her stage. Her puppets? The once slain.

A few more twangs followed. Hunger, warmth, the taste of sweet. These aspects of her senses flooded back to her. Her connections severed to the three corpses on the other end. No longer did they dance to her whims.

People whispered of beings like Svephraey. Rumors of people whose power brought back the dead. A necromancer, some might call her. A blasphemer others would say. Those people merely did not understand. They knew not what she did.

Svephraey did not bring the dead back to life. No… what Svephraey did with her collection of corpses was far more... sanitary...

Svephraey couldn’t bring the dead back to life. Rather, she merely gifted her corpses a piece of herself. A Splinter of her mind. A piece of consciousness given semi-autonomy. In its new vessel, it would take root and grow into an entity of its own.

The costs of her magic were simple. An aspect of her senses -her mind’s way of interacting with the world- in exchange she breathed new life into a deceased vessel. With the touch of a hand, she would form a bond with the corpse. A bond which tore away piece of her senses off into the body.

Her touch healed any rot and old wounds. And the new life she gifted? Well... it would then take on persona of its own. A persona given guidance from Svephraey of course.

She could influence her Splinters. Experience what they experienced. Make them act to her will. She WAS her Splinters. Perhaps that was what made it a magic of touch. The ability to feel, to sense, to be her splinters. A touch magic in perhaps the most metaphorical sense. A touch magic not without its drawbacks.

The most immediate shortcoming was the absorption of wounds taken by her Splinters, deadly wounds included. Fortunately, the absorption process was slow, giving her plenty of time to react before taking in the full wound. If necessary, she would cut away her connection from a Splinter so that she could live another day.

The second drawback was by far the more dangerous of the two. By Gifting life to her Splinters, they now had a mind of their own. If left unattended for a prolonged period of time, then as sure as the sun would rise, her Splinters would come for her. A deep rooted desire to wrestle away her control.

More than once she woken with a knife at her throat. Those were the foolish Splinters. The ones who forgot that she could severe their ties with a thought. The more crafty Splinters would try less direct methods. Poison was a common tactic. Some would even have her kidnapped. It was her awareness of her Splinters which kept her alive.

Yes, awareness of one’s Splinters was key to surviving as a Gifter. At all times she kept her Splinters at arm’s length, least she meet the fate of the one who had breathed life to her…

Two more twangs. The ringing in her ears softened as two different pitches in frequency became audible to her again.

Awareness.... Rule number one in the art of Gifting. Keep Splinters far away and monitor their activities daily. If any of them grew too ambitious, she would assert more control. Those that became too dangerous… Well she could always severe the connection. Wasteful though it may seem...

Another twang. Another Splinter back to being dead. Svephraey sighed. She would need a fresh set of bodies after this.

The world around Svephraey seemed to flare... no... it was more of an enhanced awareness of the senses she still maintained.

The Kharu-Natjer. Svephraey realized. That was his touch on her mind. He must have sensed her frustration.

The strange man's presence, in her consciousness, was soothing to her. She had become accustomed to it, and as such she openly welcomed his embraced. With his touch came an enhanced control over magic and her connections to the Splinters dancing to her thoughts.

She no longer needed to maintain focus in order send out commands. She made them act with a mere whim. All at once, she experienced what they experienced. Their fight against the cultists. Their struggle to hold out long enough to allow the Pact Makers to escape. She felt at the thoughts of their minds, like threads woven into a fabric of something far greater.

Such an odd sensation. She thought. Idly she poked at the greater fabric. The strands where her Splinter’s thoughts bled into something else. There were other threads there... threads much like the ones that made up her Splinter's own thoughts...

She focused in on one of the strands. Willing her Splinter's thoughts to brush against it. Shockingly, it complied.

Stray ideas flooded into Svephraey. Concepts... ideas... fear of death... desire for knowledge... to know the future...

Svephraey froze. Were these the thoughts of the cultists her Splinters fought?!

An thought came to mind. She could feel this person, sense this person, know this person... Could she perhaps Splinter herself into this person? She urged the Splinter forward. Contact! All she needed was contact!

A final twang rang in the room. Her last Splinter, among the cultists, had fallen. The Kharu-Natjer magic enhancing touch faded.

“NOO!” Svephraey she shouted louder than she would have liked.

She had felt a magic far greater! A magic sitting just beyond her fingertips. Power… immense power ripe for the taking! All she needed was more time! Time to-

Two voices came from outside her chamber. One belonged to the ‘pup’ she had left guarding her room. The other voice was more feminine. Her accent was distinct. Her grasp on the language crude. One of The Kharu-Natjer’s slaves no doubt. Come to fetch her, has he?

The door to her chamber opened. “Mistress?” Said the pup from outside.

Svephraey released a breath in displeasure. Entering her chambers without asking? Another a foolish pup. She thought. She rose to her feet needle-like dagger appearing in her hand with a flick of the wrist.

“Mistress?” The pup yelped, his head poking into the chamber. “The Kha-”

The poor fool’s words cut off as Svephraey’s dagger slit his throat. The pup fell to the floor, his body pushing the door to her chamber fully open. A young wide-eyed woman, stood at the door to Svephraey’s chamber. Her hair a glistening silver. Her skin of that foreign orange-tan hue. She took a step back in apprehension, yet that was all she did. As always, The Kharu-Natjer’s slaves proved to be well trained.

Svephraey ignored the sound lad’s dying gasps for air. Instead, she focused her attention on the slave women’s garments. The woman wasn’t half nude, thank the senses, nor did she wear simple rags or a veil to cover her face. From what Svephraey had gathered from The Kharu-Natjer’s culture, this meant the woman held at least some level of some importance. So in other words… don’t kill her?

Svephraey sheathed her dagger. It was a pity she couldn't kill the woman. She would make for a lovely puppet, though admittedly her skin would make her stand out far too much...

Svephraey turned her back on the woman and knelt by dying pup. She took his hand in hers and began to pet it softly.

The lad whimpered softly, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Hush now, my little pup.” She cooed soothingly into his ear. Her words came out much like a melody. “Your pain, your fears... It will all be over shortly.”

His whimpers began to soften. His eyes starting to glaze.

“There, there. That’s better.” She whispered. “Sleep well, my dear pup. Embrace the eternal slumber. May you wake again to another dream.”

The young slave woman shuffled her feet uneasily. Svephraey smiled to herself. I appeared The Kharu-Natjer’s slaves were human after all.

“Svephraey Lady.” The young woman said adding far too many syllables to her words. “Kharu-Natjer… You to come, he speaks.”

Svephraey frowned at the words. This one was utterly butchering the language. She placed her palm on the dead pup’s back and closed her eyes.

“Tell our dear Kharu-Natjer, that I am quite busy at the moment. His new, trouble-seeking friends have left me quite short on Splinters”.

Svephraey pressed her palm down firmer. Her mind jumped to the corpse. She felt and knew the world through her new vessel. An experience lasting only a moment before her awareness shot back to her own body.

Svephraey opened her eyes and blinked. The ability to see green left her yet again. Distantly she felt the splintered piece of her mind take root in the dead lad before her. She felt as it shaped itself into a freshly made Splinter.

Svephraey found color to be among the most unnecessary aspects of the human senses. And so it was often the first to go. She did find it odd that she couldn’t splinter her ability to see color into more than just three types of colors. What was it about the colors red, blue and green that made them so crucial to seeing other hues?

“Is important.” The slave women spoke. “New... slaves? Is the word?" The slave asked. Svephraey merely shrugged. "... New... slaves is needing.”

New slaves? Svephraey thought curiously. Such actions would surely put The Kharu-Natjer in the spotlight. Curious fellow, that one was.

“Tell him… I’ll stop by momentarily.”

The woman nodded curtly, apparently accepting her response as a good enough answer. She left shortly after.

What an odd people. Svephraey thought, her eyes trailing the woman as she left. What sort of creep creates a society where everyone is born a slave?

She fruitlessly tried to wrap her mind around how societal ranking would work in such culture. There were obviously different rankings of slaves, but how did ones at the top manage all of them? Did they delegate slave management to other high ranking slaves?

Svephraey shook her head. It all seemed no different than how the world work here. She turned her gaze to the dead pup. The corpse’s wounds had finished knitting up neatly. Soon the body began to stir.

The Splinter blinked. Life returned to the corpse’s eyes. It looked up and met her gaze. There was a questioning look in its eyes. She vaguely remember that same confusion when she first woke. A question of why she was here and not there.

Slowly Svephraey asserted her will upon the Splinter. It questioning stare became understanding. Its place in life now known. The Splinter rose to its feet and proceeded to walk away.

“Be sure to tidy up.” She called after it. “You’ll find clean clothes in the pup’s old chambers.”

The Splinter absently raised its hand in acknowledgment, as it headed out into the world above.

Lynx

+

Octavio

---

Octavio stared at the falling drops of rain in silence, awaiting any kind of response. At hearing Chres' words, a chill colder than the air around them ran down his spine. The urge to joke about the situation came and was snuffed out. He knew that something had gone terribly wrong.

---

In a short span of time that Lynx was unable to perceive, the endless loop of garbled sensations lessened, yet persisted. It was a blaring all around him that seemed to overpower his entire being, as if the wavering spots the noises rang from were threatening to drag him back to the state of nothingness and overload he was only just beginning to scrape away from.

Even in his state of being unable to form coherent thoughts he knew he had to hurry. He didn't quite grasp time yet, but it was something distant and alarming and definitely there. Some of the noises wanted him to leave and escape. He didn't want to trust any of them.

A shaky memory lit up in his mind. Being carried away by the current of a furious river, long long ago, the only help coming from the outstretched arms of a man in a nobleman's robes. Was he reminded of the past because it was repeating? Or was it because a part of him that had been laid bare knew the way out?

Wheezing, he dragged his trembling body up to the best of his ability and dashed to a dark corner in the movements of a wounded animal. At last, when the sharp noises got sharper and he understood their instructions better, he escaped.

---

"I don't believe we have many options right now," sighed Octavio, eyes scanning the tower. Their current distance from it allowed Octavio to detect faint traces of his familiar, although it was nowhere near enough to put him at ease. On the contrary, the lack of activity worried him further.

After what seemed like an eternity under the rain, Lynx's gray form could be seen dashing towards them. But something was different. Gone were the familiar's graceful movements, replaced instead by limping.

"Lynx!" His cry tore through the air. The illusion of himself dissolved as any sense of concentration Octavio possessed disappeared.

Chres Sansus

@fetzen@13org@Jerkchicken@HokumPocus@Typical@Elevation

---

And so the Pact Makers ran. They ran away from the clock tower. Away from the crowd and following Malkev's lead. with each stride they put more distance between the cult and themselves.

"This way." Malkev said on occasion. "Over here." He said now and then. Wherever he led, the Pact Makers followed. Left. Right. Straight. Left.

Where were they going? Chres wondered. It seemed as if Malkev was just leading them aimlessly. Making them run in the rain till their clothes became soaked.

Occasionally, Malkev would slow the group to a stroll while motioning them to keep silent. Those moments were the worst. When the group wasn't running, the chill from their damp clothes became far too noticeable.

More than once Chres felt himself shiver in the rain. He had to stop storing away his own body heat, for any heat he stored away now, was heat he needed to not collapse from the chill. However, there was another chill slowly crawling up his spine. A concern about a certain someone missing...

Where was Sil? He had seen Karina holding Sil when they left the building. Now that they were back together again, he could help but notice she was gone!

Sil! Chres thought to his familiar. Sil, where are you? Where did you go?

Chres... He heard her thoughts distantly. Do I know you?

The running had kicked in again. With it came a wave of relieve washed over Chres. She was okay... Sil was okay...

What do you mean, silly? He thought imitating the way she often would talked to him. Of course you know me. Why aren't you here? Where did you go off too?

For a long while Sil said nothing. The silence made Chres want to squirm.

At last she replied. I went... away... She thought back.

Chres felt his heart sink. His breath growing heavy from the running. Something was wrong here. The way she spoke. The replys she was giving... Away? What did she mean away? Could a familiar run away from its master? Could a familiar even leave its master?

Sil... Chres thought back to his familiar. Sil, what's wrong?

I... I don't know...

You don't know? What do you mean you don't know? Chres asked, trying to convey a feeling of comfort.

I mean, I don't know! She thought insistently. There was a clear frustration in her words.

Sil... He thought. I- His thoughts were cut off.

At long last Malkev lead the group into an empty building. Empty save for several burning lanterns on the floor among a pile of cloaks. Malkev handed out a cloak to each of them, frowning in obvious irritation when it came to Ferris's turn. To his credit, the man said not a word to Ferris. He gave the man his cloak and then moved on to the next person.

Once everyone had been fitted with their cloak, he then motioned for everyone to take a lantern. Taking one for himself, he hid it under the cover of his cloak. He then eyed everyone as if expecting them to do the same.

Occasionally Malkev's eyes would flit over to the windows as he wait. "Quickly, now." He said impatiently, with that deep, rich voice.

Once everyone hid the lanterns within their cloaks, Malkev nodded. "Very good." He said. "Should be safe to talk now... or rather... that's what he tells me..." The second half of his comment seemed to be more so directed to himself rather than the group.

"For you who have not met me yet, the name's Malkev." His eyes flitted to the window again. "You're friends here came searching for The Watch. Well... I'm the man at it's head." Malkev shuffled his feet uncomfortably at the words. "Or rather... now I am..."

Malkev turned away from the group making his way to the back entrance. He waved the group to follow. "The Watch, I'm afraid, has been left in shambles since yesterday's... unfortunate incident. Fortunately, your friends and I have made other allies who might better help us in our cause."

By this point Malkev had reach the back entrance and open the door. "We head to them now. The lanterns will hide us from prying eyes. Sadly, we do not have enough Crystal Jade candles to spare on us right now. So... well... just try not burn yourself on the lantern. Senses knows I've done it more than once."

And with that the group was on the move again. This time, however, there was no running. Just a steady stride towards a meaningful destination. Exactly where they were going, though... Chres found himself unable to focus on that at the moment.

Sil... He thought. Why don't you come and find me? I'll make you a nice puddle to play in, and after that we can talk about what is bothering you.

For a moment, Sil said nothing. He felt conflict in their bond. She wanted to play in the puddle, yes... But whatever was bothering her held sway too.

I can't. She replied at last. Not until I know.

Chres furrowed his borrow, struggling to understand. Sil, I... I don't understand...

Neither do I. Her thoughts came faintly. Neither... do I...

---

It had grown late in the day, by time the group arrived at their destination. Malkev had taken them back to the underground tunnels using the same hidden passage as before.

Upon entering Chres felt that same sensation as before. An acute awareness of every sensation picked up from his body. As with before it only lasted for moment.

When they entered the larger chamber, The Kharu-Natjer had been there to greet them. He introduced himself to everyone who hadn't already met him. He had two healers at the ready -more slaves apparently- each healer tended to the group, starting with DB.

The Kharu-Natjer told the group they would be safe here and that they were welcome to stay. Chres even thought he heard the man mention something about dinner. Though, in all honesty, he wasn't really listening.

Chres felt numb, empty, and oh so tired. His wife had abandoned him, because he had never been there for her. Instead she turned to another man to satisfy her needs. Was Sil now abandoning him too?

Sil looked like his wife. At times she even acted much like her. Chres and Sil had always been together, yet he had never tried to understand her. Never had he tried to actually know her. Was that why she was acting this way now? Was he at fault yet again?

No... Chres was being foolish. This was different than what happened with his wife. His wife had left him. She was the one who betrayed him! It was her fault he-

A flash of recollection... Shouting and crying amidst a drunken memory...

"I gave you my everything..." Chres had said. "My heart. My trust. My-"

"Chres, you don't understand! It wasn't-"

"I don't understand? I DON'T UNDERSTAND?!" Chres shook his head, taking a swig of ale from his flask. "Exactly what don't I understand? Did you not sleep with him?"

"I-" His wife started

Chres slammed his fist on the table. "DID YOU OR DID YOU NOT SLEEP WITH HIM?!" He roared.

His wife gripped her gown, her knuckles white. "I did..." She said eyeing the floor with shame.

For long while the two of them said nothing. A silence so thick it could be cut with a knife.

"How long?" Chres asked. His voice shaking with rage.

His wife shuffled her feet. "If you would only let me-"

"How long?" He interrupted. He placed extra emphasis on each word.

"Chres, please... just let me-"

"DAMN IT, WOMAN! Are you deaf?! I asked you how long!"

His wife bit her lip. Her body trembling. "Years..." She whispered at length. "This has been going on for years..."

Everything after seemed to blur. Yelling, crying, pleading, and then... death.

Chres blinked. The smell of food filled his nostrils, the group had been lead by one of the slaves to what appeared be a living chamber.

The chamber had been fitted with crystal jade candles, furnishings and a table full of various foods. There was even a stream of running water that went off into what appeared to be two separate bathing chambers. And... -Chres poked his head into one of the bathing chambers- were those curls of steam coming from the bathing water? Senses! How exactly were they heating it? Surely, this wasn't a hot springs!

Chres shook his head. He turned back to the living chambers. The space split off into additional rooms with bedding and everything. One of these rooms even housed the Innkeeper and his family.

Chres's head spun, dizziness setting in. The lack of sleep was likely not helping... Had The Kharu-Natjer been monitoring them since they arrived, or had it started from the day prior?

"Food... Eat... Rest... Please..." The Kharu-Natjer's slave said, struggling with each word. She looked so young. Twelve maybe?

She bowed to the group, showing a shaved scalp, and left them in peace.

---

Octavio stretched his arms back and let out a sigh. The food that the Kharu-Natjer had offered them looked about as lavish as the type of food he'd see at gatherings he wasn't supposed to be in. Alluring, sure, but right now, there was nothing he wanted more than to just sit back and let the bathing chamber's warm water melt his aches away. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so relieved.

"Do you know what I'm going to do, Lynx? I am going to simply accept the water's nice temperature without questioning it." He leaned further back. "I needed this after all that running."

Lynx set a pair of vacant eyes on him, saying nothing. Octavio's eyebrows furrowed. He's questioning it.

Truthfully, Lynx had his thoughts centered on all of their surroundings. He had looked at the masterfully crafted dishes and the bathing chambers in the same fashion as an adult looking at children's toys, disconnected from the possibility of fun. For the familiar who could not eat nor feel any sort of acute or specific pleasure, the lair was nothing more than a temporary shelter to ruminate in, a place he could shake off the remaining uneasiness from his battle with the sightless and get lost in his own thoughts.

"As I've already told you, the battle distorted my mind for a moment."

Octavio remained quiet, eyes closed shut.

"One of the first things I remembered... was the agreement we made," he said, looking at the whirls of water, "on the first week we had met, when I'd fallen into a river."

"I think I remember. You clawed at me and I started shouting like a lunatic because getting blood on my robes would have doomed us both."

"Right... we spoke that day. We both admitted that, although neither knew where we'd be or what we'd do, we'd fight alongside one another."

One of Octavio's eyes snapped open. "Hm? And what is this about?"

"I'm worried about the future is all. But if we can continue surviving this well, I can steady my nerves," he said, turning to exit the chamber. "I should see what the others are discussing, it could be important."

After a large pause, he opened both of his eyes. In his mind Lynx's words rang deep. It set him on the path of developing doubts and theories against his will. The worries grew as his scope grew, taking in even the most recent events. It was strange that Lynx was showing a sudden concern over the opinions of others, as strange as the amount of times he had mentioned Sil in their conversations.

He let out a dramatic sigh.

I guess a little relaxation was too much to ask for. He watched Lynx exit the bathing chamber, off to ask the others about that fairy. I will have to check up on him... at some point. Not now. I have to relax.

His eyes shifted.

How did they make the water so warm?

Chres Sansus

@fetzen@13org@Jerkchicken@HokumPocus@Typical@Elevation

---

Chres had said nothing since the slave left them to dine. He felt much as if he were in a trance. The world passing him by.

Absently he grabbed a plate of food and collapsed into one of the chairs, his soaked cloak likely ruining the chair's fabric. He sat there staring blankly at his food. A dark cloud hovering over him. Accompanied by that ever present itch.

His mind sought to distract itself from the spiral downwards, seeking questions to ponder away at. Who were these people? What did they come from? Where were they getting the food from?

Questions. He always had so many questions. Questions were good. Questions distracted him.

How big were these tunnels? Did the tunnels lead beyond the town? How did they discover them? Did any of this matter?

Chres felt his back stiffen. His mind lingering on that last question? Did any of this matter? Why was Chres even here?

Chres clenched his hand around Sil's metal glass pendent as if for protection. But Sil was gone. Sil had left him. Her uplifting presence absent from his life.

"Sil..." Chres whispered.

Why was Chres still here? What reason did he have to stick around? Did any of this matter? Did any of this even matter?

But it does matter doesn't it? A tiny part of him said. Families dead in the street. People starving and without food... Is this how you want to leave the world behind?

Families die every day. People starve everyday. There was nothing Chres could do to change that.

And what of the others? The voice asked. Chres's gaze turned towards Karina, DB, Ferris and the rest. Their chances of success diminish without you. Does helping these people no longer matter? Do you no longer care about protecting and helping others?

Chres pondered that question for a long moment. Did he care about helping others? That had been his reasoning for staying with them, hadn't it?

In his heart, Chres wanted the answer to be yes. He so dearly wished for the answer to be yes! He had once been a better man than this. A man who cared for others. A man unwavering in his loyalty. That man... was no longer him... That man... had gone away the day he killed his wife...

Chres's eyes lowered back to his plate of food. A plate that had long gone cold.

No... Chres did not truly care about what happened to the others. True, for some he had grown some semblance of a bond. In reality though, they were mere passerbys and nothing more.

The reason he had stayed this morning had not been caring, but rather it had been out of guilt. The guilt he felt when contemplating how his selfish actions would cost the rest of them. But that was then, and this is now. Now, with all these new players at the ready, did Chres's presence even make a difference?

A few more days? The voice asked. It sounded more distant than before. You can see this through for a few more days, can't you?

Chres found himself nodding. Yes... he could last a few more days. Long enough to let the guilt subside.

Chres found himself eating his plate of cold food. All the while, he plotted out all the places Sil might be. Tomorrow, he would go look for Sil, wherever she may be. He would find her. He would bring her home. That way, at the very least, he would have someone to be there at the very end...

@fetzen@13org@Jerkchicken@HokumPocus@Typical@Elevation

---

Sil lay alone, atop a puff of sky. Arms outstretched at her sides, she stared up at the glistening moon. Its normal pale color like a sun in the night sky.

The sky had long changed back to normal since Sil had started her journey upwards. The moment Sil had traveled past the... distorchination... the change to the sky had been sudden. Everything shifted around and changed colors at once.

Any Not-Sil-Person might have gotten distracted by the change in sky colors. Sil, on the other hand, had persevered! She had made it where the puddles began and... and in the end Sil still felt nothing but confusion.

The puddles came from the sky puff. Yet when Sil had gone inside the puff, there were no puddles to be found! So then... where did all the puddles come from?

Sil had tried! She had tried so hard! She had put all her focus into this one thing. This one thing that she could say with all certainty she knew! Sil thought she knew puddles, yet in the end all Sil knew was nothing.

The sky puff shifted in shape as it devoured a smaller sky puff beside it. Sil sighed. She pushed herself upright and patted the sky puff like one would a pet. She supposed it made sense that the sky puffs survived on cannibalism. They didn't have anything else to eat up here after all.

For the most part sky puffs seemed quite peaceful to Sil. Peaceful and... disappointing. She had expected something wonderful up in the land where puddles fell from. She hadn't expected the disappointment. The realization her efforts were for nothing.

Sil let herself fall. Her form descending beneath the puff and down towards the ground below. The sound of rushing wind rose up around her. Its breeze unable to slow her descent.

Well, if she couldn't know puddles by going to where they came from, then perhaps she could know them by following them to the place they went.

The world rushed up around her. Down, down, Sil dove. Down towards a tiny ground puddle far below.

---

"Sil? Sil!! Where are you going?" Karina asked, worried as she saw Sil simply flying away from her, simply going up until she couldn't see her anymore. Something had happened with the small Sil, something that the Sightless did to her when he attacked her...

Without much time to think about it, she heard DB's reply, they had to run away from there otherwise they would risk their own lives and throw away the sacrifice and help that those who were disguised as Cultists gave them.

Running away from the tower, Karina and the others met with Chres and the rest of the group, reuniting themselves as they were led through the heavy rain by a mysterious man that seemed to be together with the fake cultists. Every turn the man made, they followed him. Many times, the path he was leading them seemed like a bit random, with them stopping and staying in silence for a while before running again, letting the freezing rain soak their bones and making them feel how cold it really was. From time to time, Karina would take a look around, especially upwards, almost as if searching for something but would soon continue following him. That continued for a while until the man led them inside an empty building, finally saiying that they were safe, before turning to talk with them.

The man introduced himself as Malkev, the head of the Watch. His words as he introduced himself were grim though and made it clear that he was pretty much what it was left of the watch, quickly indicating that the watch wouldn't be that much of a saving grace that the group was expecting. That said, he also mentioned that they have made... other allies that could also help them. Jade candle lanterns would keep them hidden while they were being led to this mysterious 'ally' Malkev spoke of.

After some time, they found themselves at the underground tunnels below the city. Upon entering the big chamber, someone who called himself the "Kharu-Natjer", together with some slaves, stated that they were welcome to stay, providing food and shelter. Judging by the jade candles, it seemed that whoever was this Kharu-Natjer, it was well prepared. Karina still had some doubts about who this "Kharu-Natjer" was, but since he was offering them some much needed help, Karina kept her distrust to herself.

When Karina went to get something to eat, she saw Chres on the chair, staring blankly at his plate. Seeing him like that made Karina feel a bit guilty, after all, Sil was with her before she flew away. The moment he whispered Sil's name was the moment that Karina approached him.

"Chres... Sill... Something happened to her when she was attacked by the Sightless. She wasn't being... herself. I don't know much about what happened but I tried everything I could... She simply flew away..." Karina said in a lower tone, explaining and at the same time apologizing to Chres.

Chres Sansus

@fetzen@13org@Jerkchicken@HokumPocus@Typical@Elevation

---

Chres blinked. Looking up he met Karina's gaze. Funny, he hadn't noticed her approach. Must have gotten far too caught up in his own thoughts.

He nodded at her word while doing his best to give a warm smile. "She says she's gone away" Chres said. "Can't come back until she knows, whatever that means."

Shifting in his seat, one hand rumaging through his pocket, the other putting his empty plate off to the side. "She's a funny one, isn't she? Always doing whatever comes to mind..."

From his pocket Chres pulled out a small object between his thumb and forefinger. It glittered in the light. "They are... people, you know? That's something I often forget with her... Perhaps that's why she left..." Chres continued.

The object was oval and flat. Transparent like glass and yet as sturdy steel. Its glittering appearence caused by reflective specks of silver embedded within. Metal glass. Rare. Beautiful. Chres held the metal glass up to the light causing the surface to gleam.

'One for you, and one for me.' His wife had told him. Neither Chres nor his wife, had shown interest in wanting a familiar.

"Why then?" Chres said. His voice almost a whisper.

Chres closed his hand around the metal glass, one last time, before gentlely placing it on the nearby stand.

"Thank you, Karina." He said smiling. "I know you tried. I doubt that neither you nor I could have stopped her."

Nodding to her, he slowly rose from his chair.

"I'll find her tomorrow. One way or another." Chres said. "Do what you will with the metal glass. Senses knows it's only been weighing me down."

Despite his words, Chres somehow felt a weight much heavier than the one he just let go. These next few days would be long ones, he knew. Long and restless.

As always Chres slept lightly that night. His dreams plagued with horror and guilt.

@Pezz570@Fetzen@13org@HokumPocus@Typical

---

The man continued to run along with group as they followed their benefactor. Getting there was a slog as they would be taking all sorts of strange misdirecting turns and some pauses. The cold rain soaking him and everyone else was unpleasant, but not entirely foreign to him. Many times he'd silently endure bad weather when he was out in the wildernesses when traveling between places. But it was annoying to wait there silently and without any direction. If he was out on his own he'd have the anime to keep moving or seek or make shelter from the rain. On the bright side of things, at least him and his clothes were getting a wash.

Eventually they'd finally enter the lair through this secret tunnel in an unassuming building. Malkev would finally introduce himself as such. And with his introduction came the reveal that the Watch was gone and had some "allies" that would be of use. His interest and enthusiasm was greatly diminished. He had noticed that his senses were heightened without his volition which roused suspicion. Then there was the Kharu-Natjer and his exotic slaves. It did nothing to salvage expectations. "Great, we just walked into a fucking snake pit." He thought to himself.

It was right there and then that he decided he would do nothing with these people. The others may cooperate with Malkev and those people. He would not do anything to accrue any sort of "debt". Already he knew they'd probably have already gained some just by taking refuge here. And so when the healer slaves come towards him, he would push them away. Besides it not like he was hurting and needed it. He could take care of himself with just some time alone. The dinner offered was another thing he'd declined to partake in. Still, he lingered a while longer than he needed as he saw Chres sitting alone and looking down. He'd do nothing when Karina approached Chres. He figured the man would only be in the mood for just one person.

"I wonder who else doesn't trust trust these people. Well time for me to take my leave. No use lingering here if I'm not gonna eat."He thought to himself as he prepared to wonder off. He was thinking of seeing if he could leave this lair. Sure, it was dangerous but it wasn't safe here either.

The Cult

@fetzen@13org@Jerkchicken@HokumPocus@Typical@Elevation

---

Whack!

Tayla's vision blurred. Her body collapsing to the floor. She felt a warm liquid fill her mouth, but found it had no taste. The liquid ageusia had taken its toll. Her magic nullified.

Tayla struggled to get back to her feet but was quickly pushed back down. A foot pressing down against her back.

"Stubborn stubborn... She is quite stubborn..." Sightless to be De'laire said more to herself than anyone else. "

De'laire's foot pressed down harder causing Tayla to cry out.

"Should I hold back?" De'laire mused aloud. She reached down, grabbing Tayla by the hair. Slowly, she pulled her head back. Far enough to expose her neck. "Sightless Nieffar may scold me. He wouldn't like it if I damage her..."

Tayla gasped. Her battle from early had made her weak. Everytime she tried escaping, De'laire simply exerted more force. As things stood now, it was getting hard to breathe...

"De'laire!" Sightless Syella's voice... "What are you doing? Drop the knife! There will be no killing our own!"

"Hm?" De'laire hummed absently. "Sightless Syella? Forgive me, but have I done something to upset?"

"The knife, De'laire! Drop it! Now!"

"Knife?" De'laire asked with a tilt of the head. "Oh yes, yes... the knife. Mustn't kill the girl now... Sightless Nieffar would be most displeased."

Tayla heard a clang at her side as the knife hit the ground. The woman released her grip on Tayla's hair and relinquished some of the pressure on her back.

Tayla felt her blood still. Senses! She thought. De'laire had been about to kill me! Did the Crazed woman have any sanity left?

Yes... the woman did have some sanity left. After all, Tayla was still alive...

"What in the name of the Unseeing is going on here?!" Sightless Syella demanded.

"Punishment." Came a voice from the 2nd floor overlook. There Sightless Nieffar stood watching.

"Punishment? Death is no proper punishment for the acts she committed!" Sightless Syella exclaimed.

"Is it not?" De'laire asked absently. She had taken to scratching rigorously at the corner of her right eye. Her scratching drew blood. A sign that any day now this woman would be Sightless. Any day now she would feel the itch on her eyes...

"No, my dear De'laire. I fear Sightless Syella is correct. Does one kill a sister just for acting against the family, even if it is to satisfy her own selfish interests?"

De'laire merely shrugged. She had shifted to scratching at the corner of her other eye now. "Mine tried to kill me..." She said.

"And now she's dead." Nieffar stated. "The ultimate price for such transgressions. A price our little Tayla here does not yet deserve."

"Funny then how I needed to interfere." Sightless Syella spat.

"Sightless Syella," Nieffar continued. "I'm a man of practicality. I knew you would interfere, and so I let you interfere."

"Is that so." Syella replied. "Well forgive me Nieffar in not seeing the practically in your lack of actions. Were you simply saving your breath for later?"

"In a way, yes." Nieffar said. "Tayla's actions begets punishment. Our children died because of what she did. Her defense does not deserve any of my breath."

He made his way down the steps, his lips curving into a snide smile. The wounds on his legs must have mostly healed as Nieffar was no longer limping.

"But a Sightless ignoring commands coming from Sightless Vetius? That is a matter deserving of my breath."

Syella gave the man a leery gaze. For a moment the Sightless said nothing. Her gaze turning to Tayla. A frown of disapproval across her face.

Nieffar his approach approach stopped at the bottom of the stairs. "Would you like to explain yourself to them?" Nieffar said quietly, nodding small crowd of clan members who had funneled into the chamber. They stopped at the entrance not quite sure what to make of the display.

"I'd rather you didn't." Nieffar continued. "As far as they're concerned, their friends died because the Pact Makers attacked us."

Syella folded her arms. Her frown deepening. "Let her up De'laire." Syella said at length.

"Hm?" De'laire hummed. Her gaze turned downwards. "Oh, yes yes! You're referring to the one beneath my foot, aren't you?"

De'laire took her foot off Tayla and stepped aside. All the while De'laire muttered to herself.

"Of course she meant that one." Tayla thought she heard the woman say. "Of course she did..."

Tayla rose to her feet and bowed her head appreciatively. Syella looked her over disapprovingly.

"I expect you to still be here when I get back. We will speak further once I'm done."

Tayla nodded and watched the two Sightless leave. She felt cold, and not just because her clothes were still damp from the rain.

'Why did you join the cult?' The white haired princess had asked.

Why? Because they had given her something she never had before. A place where she felt she belonged. A place where she people actually respected her.

Tayla made her way to a nearby bench, careful to tread lightly on her bruised foot. Tayla knew pain. She could deal with pain. The disappointment though... the disappointment and... Smit...

Smit... her heart felt heavy in her chest. Why? Why should should she feel bad about him? Tayla had known that this would happen sooner or later! She knew she couldn't trust the man. Who cares that he wouldn't meet her eyes! Who cares if he sold her out!

Of course he sold her out. That was the sort of thing any sensible person would do. He didn't owe her an explanation. But then why? ... Why did it hurt so much?

Tayla saw the white haired princess. She stood there, like a shadow. The woman's image loomed over her.

'Why did you join the cult?'

"I hate you." Tayla whispered. Now, more than ever, she needed this woman to hate.

'Why did you join the cult?' She said yet again.

Talya curled her legs up onto the bench and buried her face in her arms. She hated the woman. Hated that the woman pretended to care.

---

"You're playing a dangerous game Syella." Nieffar said, a smug smile across his face. "Sending that reckless girl on a mission which as far as I can tell served no further purpose other than to give the enemy further intel on ways to fight us. You cost us believers, Syella. Sightless Vetius will be displeased."

"Why is it that you find me so intimidating, Nieffar?" Sightless Syella asked. "Is it because the followers I brought respect me while yours fear you?"

Nieffar's eye twitched at her words. However, he quickly smothered his irritation. "Syella, Syella. You don't intimidate me. I would just like to know why you feel it necessary to put this entire mission at risk. Just what exactly were you trying to achieve with all of this?"

Syella frowned, eyeing the man. "You may have been give charge over the task of converting this city, but does not mean you are privy to everything that I do." She replied.

Nieffar's expression darkened. His smile turning to a frown. "You," He said elongating his annunciation, "don't get to talk back to-"

"Would you rather I leave?" Syella continued, standing her ground. "Leave you one experienced Sightless fewer?"

The words angered Nieffar. Syella could hear the man grinding his teeth.

"They will follow me, you know? The ones I've brought over to the Insight."

"There are plenty more people in the city to fill in their ranks." Nieffar growled.

"Ah, so there are." Syella agreed. "Do you think they will turn on you too?"

Nieffar's good arm lurched. His fingers extending into sharpened tendrils ever so slightly. The Sightless stopped himself, however. He was far too aware of how a Sightless attacking one of his own would look to any onlookers.

"You know, just as well as I, that the people who attacked us weren't normal." He said.

"No, they won't." Syella agreed. "Someone planted those people in our ranks. People easy for us to overlook. Such a thing is dangerous." She did find it odd how their life essence appeared so dim. "We can't be at each other's throat with enemies like that around."

Nieffar said nothing. His angered expression turning to frustration. He knew he couldn't have her as an enemy right now, and that infuriated him.

"Someone needs to take the fall for this." Nieffar said through gritted teeth.

Syella remained quiet. She knew what this meant. It was an eventuality she had anticipated when assigning this task to Tayla.

"You're right of course." She said quietly. "Others may think the pact makers attacked us first, but the people who went with Tayla know better. We will need to put the blame for this incident on her. This way we can justify the lie."

Nieffar nodded. "Confinement." He said. Syella's expression turned grim. "We'll lock her up for a few days... Give her time to think about what she's done."

---

The cult had a ceremony of sorts that night. A ceremony that drew much of the people in town. They had food there. Food for anyone who would stay and listen to the cult's preaching.

Many played along. After all, how else would they eat? Others, however, they actually listened. At the end of the ceremony people were invited into the the Cult's makeshift church.

Those that entered join the cult's cause. Some did it out of curiosity. Others did joined for the food. Regardless of their reasons, there was one thing none of the new recruits could deny. The Cult's God had a visible presence in the world. One far more obvious than the Lord of Senses.

---

Karina had a sad expression on her face as she heard Chres talking about Sil. According to him, she had only said that she couldn't come back until she 'knows'... She knew that her absence would affect the group. Her presence was, after all, one of the few things that was able to distract them and brighten up the mood.

"She is... I'll miss her antics. I hope she comes back soon." Karina said with a delicate smile to Chres.

"Perhaps not in the traditional sense of the word but yeah... They are. They have their own ideas, their own personalities and their own ways to see the world around them." she replied with a calm, understanding voice after Chres' words. Seeing how he was as he held a metal glass pendant on his hand, with a sad, distant look on his face somewhat worried Karina. More than anyone, Chres would already be used in having Sil nearby. Her antics her happy and cheerful behavior was something he knew very well... and would miss the most too.

Standing up after thanking her though, Chres handed her the metal glass pendant, mentioning something about being weighting him down. Judging by the face he did before when looking and muttering at it, it had something to do with his painful past. Karina didn't knew how to react at first, simply holding the pendant in her hands with a bewildered look on her face. She was going to ask him if he was sure about that, going on how that apparently was precious to him but the moment she looked at his face, she knew that it was something he had to do. A something he had to get rid of if he wanted to keep going forwards and not be stuck to his past.

"Thank you, Chres. Sleep well, if you need anyone to talk with, don't be shy. It is an officer's duty to take care of her subordinates isn't it?" she said with a chuckle and a discreet smirk as Chres walked away.

The night was calm and uneventful for Karina, but she did spend some time before sleeping with the pendant on her hands, looking at it and thinking about everything. Her last thoughts were about the situation in the army... About how her father and the other officers would react when they knew about everything she had to say...

---

Year 4256
1st day of the month Olfaccium
Mid-Summer
Nation of Sight
East of Shimmer Town - Army of Touch Encampment

Da da da dum. Da da da dum. Da da da dum.

Viktor Frost, High General of Emperor Talissare's army, drummed his fingers on the side of his war table. Idly, he contemplated the message one of his foot soldiers relayed.

That code... it was Lieutenant Frost's code for sure... A reference to Viktor's favorite Opera... The girl had gone alone, and yet the voice had been a male's. A voice that had come from nowhere. Heard, by chance, from a few soldiers.

It was a curious situation. One that begged the question, was the message really from her or some sort of elaborate trick? Either way, one thing was clear. Karina's cover was blown.

"That girl..." Viktor grumbled under his breath.

Did Lieutenant Frost understand the trouble her actions had caused? A First Lieutenant on a scouting mission?! Her actions had not only sewn discord among the Company at her command, but it also gave the wrong message to her the scouts! Did the Lieutenant not think her scouts trained well enough to perform their duty? Or was she just growing bored of her position in the army?

Or is it worse? Viktor wondered. Is she trying to earn my approval? Well, this certainly wasn't the way for her to do it.

To be honest, Viktor didn't have the luxury to single out soldiers for praise, let alone play favorites with his own daughter. Karina was a soldier. As with any soldier, he expected her to act the part. Not go out on risky ventures such as this... Although, if her message could be trusted... If what the voice spoke was truth...

"You're dismissed, soldier." Viktor said, rising to his feet. The young lad saluted and left the war tent.

Viktor sighed. In many ways, this was a bad situation. Command in disarray. Officers questioning his judgment. His daughter a possible prisoner of war... On the flip side, if the Lieutenant truly had sent that message, then perhaps he had another way he could sabotage the town's defenses.

All communication from within the city had gone dark. His contact in the city had yet to respond to his negotiations for two days. Scouts entered the city, but they didn't leave. Viktor needed this city to fully cut off supply chains from the north. What he did not need was a drawn out siege.

Shimmer Town's lake provided the city with plenty of fresh water and food. He could use that same lake as route of attack, but that would require building boats and laying waste to the city. Not to mention all the lives he might lose.

No, Viktor would much prefer that the city open its doors to his army. Hence the negotiations he'd undertaken in trying to turn a member of the city's nobility. He had initially attempted negotiations with the lord of the city. Lord O’Kal. The man however had proven... uncommunicative. Viktor had then started making contact with other nobility, until finally he got a nibble.

Viktor rubbed his chin in thought. His face rough from his stubble of a beard. Silently he strode out of the tent. He needed fresh air to help sort through his thoughts.

The sounds of the army encampment surrounded him. Officers shouting out orders. The whine of restless horses eager to run. Foot soldiers laughing and shouting over early evening fires. Soothing sounds. Calming sounds.

Viktor wandered the camp, his hands clasped behind his backs. The soldiers he passed gave mixed reactions. The mainstay troops were better trained. They would solute at his passing, the higher ranking soldiers often giving him a nod of respect. The foot soldiers, however, was comprised mostly of peasants. The ones who recognized him would pay their respects with an awkward solutes, or a bow of the head. Others would gape in awe, point at Viktor while whispering to their comrades.

"That's him, I tell you!" He heard one of them whisper as he passed. "General Frost, The Mirage. The man single-handedly stopped the raids during The War of the Crazed!"

The War of the Crazed... That brought him back. It had been a long time since his excursion into Sensory Range. A five day campaign investigating reports of raids attacking supplies caravans from The Nation of Touch.

The story the man told wasn't entirely true. Viktor hadn't ended the raids all by himself... well, at least not towards the end...

His squad had been ambushed by the Crazed. The high ranking officers killed, while remaining troops were captured and scattered. Alone and with limited rations. Viktor had to take to guerrilla warfare in order to survive.

He used The Range's network of caves as a means of hiding. Striking from the shadows at opportune moments. One by one he rescued his fellow solders and freed caravans captured by the Crazed.

None of it would have worked were it not for his illusionary magic. It had been during this excursion Viktor had been forced to push his abilities to its limits. Viktor had secured The Range through trickery. By developing mass illusions imitating squads of troops. It was this technique which had earned him his title, The Mirage. A title that unfortunately would follow him to the end of his days.

Viktor frowned. His gaze forward. His strides steady. What to do about the girl? He wondered.

The Lieutenant had been insistent they gather intelligence on The Cult. Insistent that there was reason to be concerned about The Cult recent activity. Taken by rumors of their ability to see the future and the dark powers of the ones referred to as The Sightless. A tale they spun to attract the gullible, or so Viktor always believed.

The Cult had been around for ages trying to win people over to their Unseeing God. Pointing to The Distortion as proof his existence while ignoring the flaw in that claim. If The Distortion was the touch of their god, then why could he not create its effects elsewhere? The Distortion was an enigma for sure. An act of God? Perhaps a little far-fetched.

But if a Distortion has taken the city... What does one make if it then?

The thought worried Viktor. He had figured the Lieutenant's concerns unwarranted. In the end, Viktor had tossed The Cult's recent activity as nothing more than opportunistic. A chance to add a few more believers to their numbers.

The Cult were not the people Viktor had set out to go to war with, and quite honestly he would prefer it remain that way. A war against a belief was tricky. Whereas a war against a nation can be ended by toppling its king, a war against a religion does not end with the death of their leader.

"High General Frost." Said a familiar voice. "A word, if you please."

Viktor looked up. Somehow he had found his way back to his war tent. At its flap stood Colonel Raelar holding an odd bag the size of a small melon. He had not taken well to the girl's disappearance. Her Company was a part of his command. Viktor gave the man a curt nod as he passed him by.

"Colonel Raelar." Viktor said as they entered the tent. "What have you got for me?"

"A messenger was sent by King Y’lleant." Raelar said. The man had a cold look to him. He was not one to usually mince words.

"Oh?" Viktor said. "And where is this messenger now?"

"Chained to a pole. Under watch."

Viktor parsed his lips. His eyes wandered to the bag in Raelar's hand.

"Out with it then." He said.

Raelar opened the bag. A head rolled onto the ground.

---

Da da da dum. Da da da dum. Da da da dum.

Yet again, Viktor found himself drumming his fingers upon his war table. This time for a different reason. Queen Tallea was dead. The Emperor's sister was dead! This... this was not good. The Emperor would not be happy to learn about her death.

One thing at a time. Viktor told himself.

First thing first. He needed to secure Karina's safety. He could not stop the assault on Shimmer Town now, even if the girl's message spoke truth. However, he could relay the message to her. Prepare her for the inevitable.

He would send a squad of men in to seek her out. Colonel Raelar would disapprove. As far as he was concerned, the girl should be labeled a deserter and executed. Senses knows he wasn't the only one who thought that way.

The man wasn't wrong. The girl had deserted her post. However, she may also be their best bet in securing swift victory without a prolonged siege.

He was going to have to trust the girl on this one. It was something he was not happy to admit.

---

Things started to become really weird. Týfurkh remembered that a mere two, three days ago he had been nothing but a somewhat simple traveler on his way through the city. Had he decided to make a stop somewhere else -- maybe nothing would have happened and by now he'd be far away. He had not however, so now he found himself called 'pact-maker', the very word pact already implying that there was some kind of deal he would have to do something for.

Well one really couldn't say that he had not done anything the past bunch of hours. While his message from the top of the belltower might very well have reached its intended recipient those madmen around the sightless had been disturbingly fast when it came to finding them. And now he and the other pact-makers had effectively sought temporary refuge in... what was this ? It must have taken many months, if not years and a quite large workforce to dig and fortify these underground tunnels and chambers, so why did he feel rather uneasy about those Kharu-Natjer ? If anything the space they were living in indicated that they were not some kind of organization that had happened to form just with the appearance of crazy sightless and cultists, but probably had been here for much longer and had found themselves sucked into the stream of events just like he himself had.

Maybe it was the fact that warm water and fresh food seemed to be available in abundance, or maybe it were the slaves. Slavery was not something he was fond of and pretty much the only reason that had made him indirectly use their services by allowing the healers to inspect him was that any untreated injury wouldn't help them either. Týfurkh felt sorry for them and that wasn't only just because they had to get a stool to stand on in order to do the job in his case.

The man arranged priorities: Getting clean first, then eat. His long hair had degraded into a mess that was held together by dried sweat, fat and dust clinging to the previous two things. He made it quick though, merely spending a bunch of minutes on a basic cleanup using the warm water at hand before wrapping himself in simple cloth again. The fact that the wool was clinging to his prominent muscles just as much as his hair told a story about how much of a shortcut Týfurkh had taken in terms of drying himself again afterwards. At least the water wasn't dripping and he had put on the full set of clothing again. Not wearing any armor or weapon felt so refreshing given the recent events... but would he still have found that to be appropriate if he had known everything about those Kharu-Natjer ?

Still somewhat stuck in his own thoughts, Týfurkh wandered back into the dining area. With his eye focused on the delicious looking food he almost bumped into DB who appeared to have other plans than eating.

"Aren't you hungry ?"

Just as the man was preparing to leave, a semi-familiar voice made itself known. He'd turn around and look at the literal giant of a man speaking to him. "Týfurkh? I didn't notice you here. Good thing we all managed to get out together. I was worried we'd lose you to the cult after the floor gave out." He'd reply rather cordially. He'd then continue, "As for the food? I've gone without eating before and I'll endure it again. Just as I endured that cold rain. Now excuse me, I'm going to take my chances in the wilderness outside town."

"I've been lucky. By the time the bell came down I wasn't on the top level anymore, but in the staircase on my way down. Otherwise... I probably wouldn't be here."

Týfurkh seemed a little thoughtful and he indeed was. First about himself and the past events DB had just reminded him about, then about the man's statement about 'taking his chances'.

"Outside town ?" he started, his voice indicating a slight degree of bewilderment. "As far as we can know the town is still sprawling with cultists. We actually have tried to call some friends outside of the city wall to come in, so..." He sighed a little. "Don't you think that's a quite dangerous idea for a single person ? I think we should keep working together."

"Yeah you're right, you are lucky to have made it out. If you've been captured, breaking you out would've been rough after this fight." The man replied.

When Týfurkh asked him if he meant that he wanted to leave, he shot him a look. It was a mix of curiosity and incredulity. He'd reply, "Yes, I think I'll take my chances there. They're strong, but not nearly as much they want you to think. As much as I agree with you, there's no need to be here. The only use was to ally with the watch and they're destroyed. And his allies? The seasoning is a bit too heavy-handed."

The man's words ended in a curious Nation of Taste idiom whose literal meaning is how a dish with less than fresh ingredients may be heavily spiced to cover it up. But is used to refer to something being untrustworthy or suspicious. While an outsider may find the dishes of the country to be heavy in spices and seasoning, the natives make a distinction between good application of heavy seasoning and that which isn't.

Týfurkh paused for a brief, but noticeable moment as he tried to understand the meaning of the last bunch of words. He was a far cry from well versed in the Nation of Taste's specific language and oddities, but given the fact that DB did not seem to have eaten anything the phrase could impossibly refer to any actual food. The latter circumstances allowed Týfurkh to get a careful hunch.

"You don't trust them ? Well... I can't say that I'd be particularly fond of how things went either. They have slaves and a few things are astonishingly well adapted to defending against the cult. Look at all the jade candles for instance..."

The giant wasn't entirely sure if it would actually be appropriate to give DB any advices, however his conscience convinced him otherwise: He couldn't let DB go into such great peril without having told the man his own thoughts first.

"I feel uneasy as well, but for me the alternatives are the following: Either go outside and take the risk of being caught by crazy cultists or not being able to escape the magical madness they have engulfed the city in, or stay here and take the risk of being backstabbed by any ulterior motives the people here might have. I doubt though that any of those could be worse than what the cultists want to do with us, otherwise these Kharu-Natjer would already have had plenty of opportunity to either kill us or subjugate our minds. So... for me the worst thing that can happen is that we don't win, but be certainly can't lose."

Týfurkh's facial expression almost became sarcastic.

"Even if it's basically only because we're already at rock bottom."

From a side door to the dining room emerged Ferris, who’d only dropped by to keep up appearances, having all but lost his appetite the moment he’d seen the messenger. Though he’d seen worse, and though he wasn’t going to do anything to help free them, Ferris still disliked the notion. The young girl who’d delivered the message looked only a few years older than Ferris had been when he lost his father, and though she didn’t look malnourished or mistreated, she was still young enough to unsettle him. Who was to say where he’d be if he hadn’t escaped back then? There were worse fates than death, and though the Kharu-Natjer might be a fair man, Ferris figured a life of servitude to another to be more similar to death than not.

Speaking up, however, was a foolish thought he didn’t bother to entertain. Slaves existed, and the Kharu-Natjer would neither be the first nor the last person to own another. It was simply that the situation put him on edge. He’d allowed the slaves to tend to his wounds, yes, and he’d even come to see the offered food, thinking perhaps he could stomach something simple, but the sheer luxury waiting in the dining room had been enough to fully put him off.

At the main door down the hall, he spotted DB and Týfurkh, who looked to be conversing. He hadn’t spoken much to either of them, hadn’t spoken with Týfurkh at all, really, but what happened earlier in the tower had shown that both could pull their weight on the battlefield, and Ferris respected that.

“Is something the matter?” Ferris asked, approaching. He’d left his scarf in his room, leaving his face feeling a bit bare, but it made for easier conversation when others could see the entirety of his face, even if he usually kept his emotions off his face. As far as he was concerned, though, it seemed like he’d caught the beginning of some sort of discussion. ‘Heated’ was a bit strong of a descriptor, considering what he’d seen of Týfurkh's disposition, but the expression on the Hearing man’s face left room for doubt.

The man would reply to Týfurkh, “Then we’re on the same page then. I wish to do nothing for them and avoid anything that will be needed to be paid in ‘favors’. They will inconvenience us once they find our usefulness gone. And that is why I wish to leave.” It would seem that their discussion would draw the attention of the newest member of the group, Ferris.

“Not really. I’m just discussing how I plan to leave from here.” He’d say to Ferris. At this point he wondered who else was listening. Honestly, he wouldn’t be surprised if they were listening in to this conversation. Frankly it didn’t bother him, as he distrust was at the level he anticipated some sort of treachery from them. And additionally, he was being much more diplomatic in how he spoke compared to how he really felt.

Týfurkh took notice of Ferris with quite significant interest. He hardly knew the man -- pretty much just like everyone else --, but he looked peculiar for a reason the giant couldn't even isolate himself right away. Then DB continued, still insisting on leaving rather sooner than later.

"Well... holding any of you back from leaving might very well be an exceedance of my competency, but I feel obliged to remind you about a few things: We went to that clocktower with the intent of sending out a message and Karina can confirm that I and her have actually succeeded in doing so just prior to the attack. This means that there's a solid chance that a lot of soldiers are on a move risking their lives in order to rescue us. What do you think you'll do to those men if they find out that those they were sent to rescue have decided to try and get out themselves not as a group, but one by one and into different directions ? In the best case any of their losses will have been unnecessary because you and whoever else decides to make a run for it now will have survived happily. In the worst case any of their losses will have been in vain because you are dead and maybe they will have spent even more lives searching for you."

Týfurkh refilled his lungs, then continued with a voice even slightly more serious than before.

"And now to 'they're weaker as you think'... Did you foresee that the cult would be in that clocktower a mere bunch of minutes after us ? Can you provide me with an explanation about how they found out about us there so quickly ? Can you give me a number about how many sightless are out there or how much more damage we would have had to inflict on that single one in order to defeat him ? And, finally, what makes you think that they'd be less capable of detecting you than they apparently were capable of detecting us as we did everything to remain hidden ? And no, 'hope' doesn't count because it can be applied to everything."

Ferris listened to Týfurkh with some amount of surprise. It seemed that DB had hit some sort of nerve, but Ferris couldn’t fault Týfurkh. He’d been the one closest to the Sightless, and he knew better than any of the group how dangerous they were. And his points were valid; the Sightless were known for their visions, and thinking they’d pass up a moment to strike was rather naive.

“I was planning on heading out too, but you’re right. The Sightless would be waiting.” Ferris looked to DB. “How about scouting the tunnels instead?” He’d passed on a guide and continued to pass on the candle holders, preferring instead to ask for the candle and walk himself to where he needed to go. However, he didn’t know the lay of the tunnels yet, and he’d been looking to rectify that.

"This rescue is going to be more of a battle with the town likely being destroyed in the process. Again, I don't want anything to do in aiding these people should there be a reconstruction. Besides look at me, you think they’re gonna about someone like me? In fact, that’s one of the reasons I think can sneak away with no one caring. A beggar like me sticks out less than someone like you or say, Karina." He’d reply.

He’d take a pause as he listened to Ferris speak. He’d then continue, “I’m not surprised they attacked us so readily. We did walk through public to a less than hidden location. And for all we know they could be launching an attack right now. Still, just because of their numbers and ability doesn’t make them all powerful. However, the illusion that they do is something they’ll wish to maintain as it gives them control without using too much effort.”

Another pause. He’d then continue looking at Ferris “Still, I think I might be getting a little ahead of myself. Perhaps there’s something to be gained here. Besides, not like I won’t be wandering them in search of an exit.”

Ferris considered DB’s point about the Sightless getting control from their caution. It was true, but he didn’t feel that he was being too cautious at the moment. Currently the group was worn out and injured, so avoiding trouble was a priority. In the future, though, he’d have to keep his caution in check since only using defensive tactics and strategies would make them easier to predict, visions or not.

“It’s settled then,” he said, nodding, then turned to Týfurkh. “Are you coming as well?” Though Ferris cared little for company, there was the matter of getting acquainted with the group. Currently, he had only made the acquaintance of Chres and Octavio, if speaking more than a few sentences counted. But, considering that the group would likely take a few more days to nurse their wounds, Ferris figured he had some time.

”I think it can’t hurt to become a little more familiar with the place we are in. I’d be eager to find out how they do some of the things they do here. And just in case things should go utterly wrong indeed…” Týfurkh didn’t actually finish his sentence, believing that it was all too obvious that he was talking about any potential escape route anyway.

”Let me just snatch up some of that food, please. I’m hungry to say the least.”

_{Year 4256
2nd day of the month of Olfaccium
Morning
Svephraey + Octavio}

---

Octavio strode through the halls that connected the dungeon's chambers, his gloved index finger brushing past the length of the stone wall as he moved. Though initially an earnest attempt to use its texture to avoid getting lost, he'd gradually grown bored. He saw no reason to continue acting as if this situation was any different from his encounter with the Mysterious Stranger. If either of the powerful men had wanted him dead, then there would be no obstacles in their way. While his first encounter of that nature had left him feeling frustrated and powerless, he now felt a kind of disinterested respect. There were far more important things to worry about than the intentions of men who insisted on shrouding themselves in mystery.

His movements came to a halt. "An indent, interesting."

His finger traced the circumference of a small concave bump in the wall. He withdrew a small knife to carve out a marker, but thought better of it. There was no way to know the extent of the Kharu-Natjer's power, and he wasn't about to vandalize his home. He chuckled. In the absence of his companion, it was a lot harder to make civilized decisions.

"Little runt, little runt. Not like the other pups." A female's voice purred from the tunnel's depths. There, where light met shadow, sat Svephraey, scraping at the floor with a needle like dagger.

Eyes towards the ground, she continued her chant. "Begs for food. Begs for love. Never did it find a one." Her words came rhythmically. They hung in the air much like a melody. "Alone, it wandered to and fro. Till, one day... it met another..."

A pebble leapt from the ground. Chipped away by Svephraey's dagger. The woman ceased her scrapping. Her weapon hand relaxed. Slowly Svephraey's gaze wandered upward. Her eyes meeting Octavio's expectantly.

"Tell me, love." The woman said. "What happened then?"

A sudden noise made Octavio turn. Through the eerie glow of the jade torches he made out the rough shape of a person, a shape that moved bit by bit as it carved the ground with a dagger. He cursed himself for having carelessly assumed the Kharu-Natjer’s territory would have been free of threats outside the man himself. As the sound of metal scraping against stone rattled in his skull, he realized that just because the man saw use in keeping him alive it didn’t mean he’d be under his protection. What general or king hadn’t waved away the lives of his inferiors without as much as a blink of the eye?

She chanted, or at least seemed to recite, a verse about a lost animal, and although there was no way a reasonable man would arrive to the conclusion, he knew on an instinctual level it was about him.

“What an interesting little chant,” he mused, eyes drifting towards the miserable sources of light around them, “do you by any chance remember who taught you that?” In the past, he’d had conversations with individuals who had blades pressed against his throat. Despite the distance between them, the encounter felt similar.

Svephraey cocked her head. Her expression unchanging... or at least as far as anyone could tell. The exaggerated turtleneck made reading her expression quite difficult, as the only thing left visible were her eyes.

The woman gave the man a shrug. Slowly, she rose from the ground. Her dagger vanishing beneath the folds of her sleeve with a flick of the wrist.

"Just a story my mother told." She said. "Her stories never did end... pleasantly..."

A part of him wanted to let out a fabricated chuckle, or even a grin to ease the oppressive tension that permeated the chamber, but it was hard to gauge what was appropriate given the woman's obscured expressions. At least withdrawing her dagger meant he wasn't a target. For now.

"Ah, well they say every story is either a tragedy or a comedy. I myself always preferred the latter, in my youth as an actor." His shoulder leaned against the stone, the rest of his body softening in response.

Amused by Octavio's words, Svephraey's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "Smooth words, fine garments, a fear of tragedies and..." Svephraey's eyes wandered to Octavio's many rings. "a taste for shiny accessories... Yes... an actor indeed..."

Svephraey slowly approached Octavio. Her steps so light and delicate, it made her appear to glide across the floor in the dim light. "Be honest now, love." The woman said. "Did you steal your pet the way you stole the cloth on your back?"

It wasn't the first time he'd been correctly accused of having stolen his garments. But those other incidents had been after copious amounts of alcohol or the failure to latch on to some trend among nobles. All of this was information she could possibly have no way of knowing, information she laid out on display as part of some attempt to cut him down to size.

He was really starting to miss the good old days of just stealing.

"Ah, you mean Lynx..."

He was becoming aware of how uncomfortable the rough stone against his body felt, a pressure that prickled against his skin through the stolen cloth. "Calling him a pet is a disservice to his capabilities. A fine young man, once you look past the four paws." As strange as it felt to defend Lynx, the words flowed out of him effortlessly.

"My-my, you are an amusing one..." Svephraey replied, her eyebrows rising just a hint. She raised her arm to her side, letting her fingers brush against the stone wall as she drew ever closer.

"It followed the other. A runt much like itself." Svephraey continued her chant. "From here to there, it didn't matter where. Learn, it did, from the other's ways. To survive, to hunt, wherever it stayed. Some lessons, though, did allude. Trust. Friendship. A heart left askew."

Svephraey's steps came to a pause, positioning her just in front of Octavio. Her gaze seemed to intensify as her chant cut off. "Talon spoke of your Familiar's delusions of self-importance. He did not mention you encouraged its behavior." Svephraey's eyes almost seemed to twinkle in amusement. "Funny, I would almost believe that you're the pet and it the master."

Svephraey paused, tilting her head as she regarded Octavio with curiosity. "A dangerous thing, love," She started, her voice just above a whisper, "when a pet becomes the master. You walk that same line the other did. A line so fine it leaves no sign..."

As she drew nearer he didn't budge. It was clear she was looking to toy with him, and he wasn't going to squirm that easily. "It's not pets and masters, it's two allies, each helping the other. Unless... you see all relationships that way?" He let the words hang in the stagnant air.

The corners of Svephraey's eyes appeared to rise almost as if she were smiling. "When you do what I do, you have no choice but to view all relationships with a healthy dose of skepticism. Else one day you'll find yourself alone. Bleeding out. Left to die..." Svephraey hesitated. Her gaze grew distant. "Sometimes, it's best to cut away others before they cut away you..."

A knot formed in Octavio’s throat. This is how I sound like to other people. The man who had once proudly proclaimed himself to be ruled by no one, coming and going wherever whenever. The man who had managed to ruin every inkling of a relationship with others, who ran before he could ever face anything approximating a consequence for his actions. “That’s not… right." His words caused Svephraey to raise an eyebrow, skeptically.

He couldn’t believe he was hesitating, but he couldn’t think of any suitable retort either. His experiences within his current party and his past both raged in his mind, images that contradicted one another. For the past few days he had been on the edge, and Svephraey was pushing him.

“Who are you?”

The woman eyed Octavio. "Just someone capable of filling in the blanks." She said coyly. Her gaze turned toward one of the nearby crystal jade candles. Slowly, she strode toward it.

"The story... it ends with the other realizing it outgrew the runt. But the other couldn't just let the runt go. So it did the only sensible thing... It bared its fangs on the little runt."

"The other devises a plan to trick the runt." She continued. "It kills a sickly boar and invites the runt to feast. Eating the boar would surely leave the runt weakened. It would be then that the other would come in with the killing blow."

"But the runt saw through the facade and found a weasel to bring to the feast. A weasel with quite the bite. Just right to set upon the other before it makes its strike."

Svephraey stopped in front of the candle. Her story ending much like it started. Silence.

Reaching out, Svephraey took the crystal jade candle and turned it in her hand. "A tragedy, much to your dislike." She said in a hushed tone. "Two companions turned enemies... On the bright side, the little runt does escape with its life... But one does wonder... Why did the other bare its fangs upon the runt?"

"Because there was distrust. And ignorance. Had they been civilized little animals," his eyes followed the taken candle, "then they would have known that cooperation is the wisest choice. It's why we're the civilized species." The wording. I'm going to come to regret that.

He felt like an idiot, to say the least. The story was intended to be a parallel to his own experiences and an invitation for them to be dissected, and he'd chosen to take the coward's way out and criticize it in the literal sense. A younger Octavio would have considered that a victory, but he couldn't help but desire more, more than to simply be content with never truly understanding a problem before running away from it.

"Civilized? Us?" Svephraey said. "That there is the real comedy. Cooperation? We cooperate only for as long as it serves us. In the end, no matter how much we pretend, our species is no different."

Svephraey paid the man a sidelong glance before tossing him the crystal jade candle. "Tell me, love. What do you see when you look at the crystal?"

Being with Lynx had helped Octavio in a number of ways. With their combined efforts, it had been far easier to determine crucial information, from the layouts of buildings to what a target's favorite color was. But exclusively targeting the emotionally vulnerable had come at the cost of dulling him. Against the woman's sharp wit, he found himself at a loss for words once more. Had this been a physical battle, he would have been scrambling from cover to cover, none of it working. He had to think harder, the way his younger self would before growing comfortable in the world of false luxury.

She wants me to agree with her. But why? She's stalking around a dark tunnel. And based on a handful of her earlier statements it wouldn't be wrong to assume she believes most of the ideas coming out of her mouth. He refused to let himself lapse into thinking about escape.

The candle, for lack of a better term, glowed in the palms of his hands. A symbol of hope. But that wouldn't be the "correct" answer. No. What did the candle really represent? The answer came to him quickly, much to his distaste. "The lack of cooperation. The sacrifice of hundreds of lives, of those who would never be able to receive the light to protect them." The fingers of his right hand stretched around it, gradually smothering the glow in streaks of pitch black. His eyes remained on the green energy, however. "But that wouldn't be right, would it? There are people willing to band together to stop the madness tearing at this world, willing to give their lives for it."

Svephraey gave the man a bored sounding clap. "Very deep. Very drawl." She lamented. "Is he a philosopher or a thief?" She wondered aloud. "Or just very good at putting a woman to sleep?"

With a shrug, Svephraey turned and proceeded to lazily stroll down the tunnel's length.

"People band together only when madness threatens their comfortable way of life. Much like that mismash of friends of yours." She said jeeringly. "Come, Love. You think you will all be sticking together once this fight is over, do you? No... You know better than that. They will all split up. Each of you going your separate ways."

Svephraey stopped her stroll in front of another crystal. "You know what I see when looking upon a crystal?" She asked. She didn't bother to wait for an answer. "When I stare into that greenish glow... I see a profit..."

The woman stared into the eerie light. It shine gave her a wolfish look. "Yes," She continued. "A Profit. One made by trafficking large quantities of crystal across the border."

She nodded to herself as if coming to a decision on something. "Yes..." She said. "If things go poorly here, that is what I shall do."

The woman raised her gaze back to Octavio. "When the dogs can no longer hide among the shadows, they will pay a lofty sum of coin to have tools like this in hand."

"And here I thought we were having an interesting conversation about society." He rested a hand on one of his hips. "It was about me this whole time?" A chuckle left his lips, as if they were both in on some sort of joke. "While I can't say I'm confident my allies and I will even survive this, cooperation is what's kept us from anything grisly so far. I'd even go as far as to say I've befriended some of them."

His attempts at unearthing her motivations hadn't given him the success he was hoping for. The answer ended up being the most obvious option, what every man toiled and yearned for most in life. Or at least as much as love, but Octavio had no respect for those who thought that way. "I was finally beginning to enjoy myself. Then you had to go and make it all about money."

It really was like trying to have a conversation with another him. One that hadn't been humbled by mortal combat and beings that skirted the line between human and not. Judging solely by appearances, she definitely seemed to be someone who could hold their own in combat. He mused how likely it was that he would have turned out the same had he put more effort into training. Why am I feeling jealous again? First that one stranger who dragged me into this mess, and now her.

"Is stalking around dark tunnels related to your plan?"

"Of course," She said smoothly. "After all, it's never been about the money, love."

Svephraey flicked her wrist. Her needle-like dagger reappeared in her hand. "It's always been about staying on top."

Svephraey spun quickly. With a yell, she swung her blade with all her might into the nearby crystal jade candle. To the candle holder's credit, the candle stayed in the structure. The structure, of course, unharmed. The candle, however, didn't fare as well. Where her blow landed, a few tiny white cracks spread out like a web.

Svephraey cocked her head. Her dagger already having disappeared back beneath her sleeve. "Sturdier than I thought." She said.

With a shrug, Svephraey let the candle be and retreated back towards the shadows. However, upon reaching the shadow's edge, she came to a halt.

"You know," She said, looking over her shoulder. "I suppose, in a way, the runt wasn't actually a runt after all... Funny, isn't it? How sometimes a tragedy and a comedy can be one in the same."

His eyes followed the spider web of cracks along the crystal in a way that suggested he knew how valuable they were. They were, of course, responsible for having saved him and his party’s lives repeatedly. But he now knew that Kheru-Natjer was more lax about his property than he assumed. Unless Svephraey was important enough to where an act like this was permissible?

Staying on top. Survival. They were on the same page now, at least. It had taken some time for both Lynx and him to grow accustomed to cooperating with others, yet survival hadn’t wavered as their ultimate goal in mind. He approached the cracked crystal and traced the white lines on its surface, his index finger traversing their paths like an explorer inside of a labyrinth, only barely avoiding one dead end after another.

“Who knows? We’ve yet to find out,” he said, as much as to himself as to her.

The corners of her eyes appeared to rise as if she were smiling. “Farewell, love. I imagine we will be seeing each other much more often in the future.” She said, disappearing into the shadows. “... Unless, of course, she gets revenge before we get the chance…”

It felt like a heavy blow aimed at his chest. He was certain he was on the edge of keeling over.

Ophelia was coming.

The role of bodyguard was nothing new to Ferris. Since the role was a broad one with many different definitions and job descriptions, there was a good chance every mercenary had played some sort of a bodyguard at some point. In Ferris’ case, it was just a matter of the pay and the person paying; if the money was good and the person wasn’t overly difficult, he was inclined to accept.

For today in particular, it was information he was after, not money. He had a decent grasp on Malkev and his role in town by now, but what of the Kharu-Natjer? Though the Kharu appeared to possess significant power, influence, and wealth, he also seemed to operate entirely from the shadows. The questions Ferris wanted answers to how and why the Kharu maintained such a role, and the alternative to asking for the Kharu’s goals was examining his actions. Serving as bodyguard to one of his servants was a lesser extension of that given that the Kharu’s servants were cogs in an overall machine. Every servant would fit into the system somehow.

Today’s outfit of choice was a hooded cloak, which was testament to the secretive nature of the task. The plan was the same: Three bodyguards would accompany the slave on their tasks, one keeping step with the slave and two bringing up the rear from afar. The plan was straightforward enough that there wasn’t reason to provide a map. The guards were simply to accompany and protect the slave, keeping their eyes on the crowd and the crowd’s eyes off the slave as they moved.

Floral and woody scents swirled in his scarf as he waited in the designated bend in the tunnels, the group’s meeting spot marked by a trio of jade candles nestled on a tunnel ledge. Spotting two hooded figures moving down the tunnel towards him—the slave and one of Malkev’s guards, most likely—Ferris straightened from where he’d been leaning against the wall. He had his scarf today, at least, and a hood wasn’t too poor of a replacement for his hat.

Octavio approached the meeting spot with an ever familiar pang of adrenaline. It was a feeling he embraced, however. The man had spent enough time relaxing to the point it was beginning to feel strange. He figured a career that involved putting yourself in constant danger did that to a person, if the many warriors he had met throughout his life were any indication. He assured himself that it wasn’t the case with him, that he’d just take part in some quick task to entertain himself, nothing more. There’d be no hollering of blood and battle, especially not with the fine set of robes adorning him. However, he settled on a more utilitarian appearance for today, swapping out the usual finishing touches with either nothing or intentionally bland accessories. The heavy cloak that would only rest on his back was now hitched on his shoulders, covering a wider area of his body. It wouldn’t do to dress so extravagantly with a slave at one’s side.

The slave. It didn’t bother him as much as it should have, as it wasn’t the first time he’d dealt with them. It was easier to enact his warped sense of justice on a noble, he figured, when you weren’t spending every waking moment fretting over the well-being of every cook and maid. He avoided eye contact with it, instead treating it like someone’s expensive possession.

“I take it we´re ready to go?” he asked, fidgeting with a pouch on his necklace. He’d stored his earrings in it, and was tracing the hard lumps with his thumb.

The guard looked to Octavio and then the slave. The slave, a young male in his late teens, frowned at Octavio’s words. The boy’s head was mostly shaven, save for some hair towards the back of his head, tied in a knot.

The slave shook his head. “Freshlanders...” He said. “All same.”

His words were crude, adding extra syllables where there were none. The slave walked passed Octavio, bowing his head just barely as he did so. Silently he positioned himself towards to the front of the cart and pulled out what appeared to be a small crystal from his cloak.

The crystal was quite odd. It was clear as water, yet at the same time it reflected light much like a mirror. The slave clenched his hand tightly around the crystal. His eyes closed as if concentrating. His appearance wavered for a split second. And then…

The boy’s skin no longer had that orange hue. Instead it was a light tan. And his hair… it had become black as soot. The crystal had vanished. Seemingly merging into his body.

The slave opened his eyes and looked to the guard. The guard nodded back.

“Now go.” The slave said.

One of the guards positioned himself to pull the cart, but the slave raised his hand stopping him. “You.” He said, pointing to Octavio. “Cart pulling need be. Your job.”

Ferris watched the slave speak. Like some of the others he’d seen, this slave was educated in the language, which meant he was important. Considering that the current group was meant to protect this slave, that made sense, but Ferris was distracted by a familiar, faint, but vexing scent in the air. He’d noticed it first in the bathing area, of all places, but it wasn’t like any scent he’d encountered before. Rather than remaining a definite smell, the scent kept shifting, as if slowly transforming into different smells as the seconds ticked by. The only thing keeping Ferris from thinking he was going insane was the fact that he didn’t always smell the scent. In fact, here was the only place he’d smelled it outside the bath, which kept his attention sufficiently distracted from the slave that he didn’t register the crystal until the scent in the air suddenly grew significantly stronger.

Pulling down his scarf, he watched as the crystal merged into the boy, watched as the boy changed completely. Though his features remained the same, all the colors were wrong, just as the sharp rubber scent in the air shifting into a sweeter, fruitier one was wrong. It was magic, then, not a figment of his imagination or some strange incense burner put out to distract him. Somehow, the combination of the boy and the crystal had resulted in magic. Was the boy himself a magic-user? It seemed unlikely, given that a skill so strange and unique would be highly valued and deserving of more protection than just the three-man crew present. A better explanation would be the crystal serving as a repository or conduit for magic.

The slave spoke, first to the group, then to Octavio. For some reason, he’d nominated Octavio to pull the cart, which confused Ferris for a second. It’d be common sense to delegate the laborious job to someone who seemed better suited for the task, and while Octavio was by no means frail, he was not as built as Ferris or the guard. On second thought, though, perhaps that’s exactly why he nominated Octavio; of the trio, Octavio looked the least familiar with the battlefield, which Ferris knew to be a partial lie. Octavio was just better at hiding his experience, and his magic made him stronger than any stray guard without magic.

“Octavio needs his hands free to use his magic,” Ferris said, looking to the guard. “Do you have access to magic as well?” Ferris was counting on a no, which would lead to the conclusion that the guard was better suited staying closest to the slave and the wagon since both Ferris and Octavio had magic that allowed them to bridge the distance if they stayed behind the slave. However, it seemed that pulling the wagon meant staying closest to the slave, and Ferris still wanted to ask about the crystal.

“I can pull the cart. My magic doesn’t require my hands to be free,” he said, replacing his mask as he looked to the slave. Separating him from the guard seemed a good bet if Ferris was to get answers to his questions. That said, Ferris had a sneaking suspicion that this slave was not the naive sort and that answers would not come easily in broken words

“Man can be grabbing cart. Man can be release cart. Magic then can use. Job make Man better.” The slave said in matter-of-factly fashion. “You can be help. Required it be not.”

Octavio stood and watched the exchange unfold around him. The only requirements for his magic were sufficient light and the chance to concentrate, both of which he figured would be available. He tried to focus more on the words of others, even more than he’d previously done, as part of his attempts to be more committed to his surroundings.

“If all this’ll be is pulling a cart, then I can definitely summon illusions.” He ran his fingers through his hair in a way that betrayed the humbler choice of clothing. “I’d rather not, of course. Is it important that I be the one to pull it?”

He figured the only realistic possibilities were that the slave chose on impulse, or was given special instructions to choose Octavio. The latter implied a strategic benefit to keeping him occupied, which he found ridiculous. The former made more sense.

“Depends.” The slave shrugged. He turned to the other guards. “Today Men not be wanting moneys?” More than one of the guards eyed Octavio pleadingly. “Replacements be needing?”

The guard who entered with the slave nudged Octavio. “Just play along friend.” He whispered. “They get very stubborn about things like this.”

Ferris listened with some amount of surprise. He’d assumed that the slaves got along with the guards, or were at least intimidated by them. From the looks of it, though, the opposite seemed to be true, which just served to show how much power the Kharu really wielded. Given that the guards seemed to be following the slave’s orders now, it was pretty clear that this was a side job for them unrelated to their day jobs, but how much of that was due to the money?

Looking to Octavio, he pursed his lips. He’d tried, but it seemed that the slave was set on Octavio pulling the cart. Why Octavio was anyone’s guess, and Ferris figured that’d be revealed sooner or later, unless it was actually irrelevant.

The guard beside Octavio met his eyes, shrugging, and Ferris nodded. “Let’s go.”

Octavio wordlessly gripped the cart, eyes focused on the slave. The irony of being a man who defended a familiar raising an eyebrow at a slave ordering someone else around wasn’t lost on him. It’d be an act of total hypocrisy to try and contest the boy’s command, he realized. “Of course.”

The slave nodded in approval. “Now be going.” He said.

The guard smiled and walked up beside Octavio. “My gratitude.” The guard whispered. “He won’t have you doing this for long… probably.”

The group set off. The slave at the head with the guard acting as a guide. It was a rather mundane and uneventful walk. A few villagers would stare from time to time, but out of curiosity or cautiousness rather than ill will.

After a time, the guard in the lead fell back, pacing himself with Octavio and Ferris. He nodded to Ferris and looked to Octavio. “Hey,” He said. “How are you holding up?”

“Fine,” Ferris said, looking to the slave ahead, then to the guard again. Neither of them seemed winded, yet the guard was checking in with him and Octavio. If Ferris had to guess, it seemed like the guard was trying to make conversation, which was rather helpful, actually.

“Do you take jobs from the slaves often?” he asked. From the looks of the villagers they’d passed, it didn’t seem like seeing a group of hooded figures moving together was a common or welcome sight, so the Kharu probably didn’t send his slaves out too often. Still, soldiers trying to pad their income wasn’t a novel concept, and they’d look elsewhere if they couldn’t find jobs with the Kharu.

The guard laughed. “Nobles mostly. Or rather one noble in particular. We are personal guards of Malkev… personal off-duty guards, that is. We’re just here for the extra pay.”

The guard smiled. “To be honest, I’m not even sure ‘slave’ is the best term for these people. Some of them seem to act more like a slave then others... Ones like him though...” The guard smirked. “Well… you’ve already seen how they're like.”

Octavio whistled to himself to pass the time, clearly not content with the mundane nature of his task. He met the stares of the occasional curious villager and tried to internally guess what they were thinking, basing his conclusions more on an overactive imagination than anything grounded in logic. The guard asked questions, made conversation, and he was too caught up in a particularly interesting set of thoughts to answer the man. When he at last wanted to contribute with something else, he realized it’d be a lot more difficult with the slave being able to hear everything that came out of his mouth.

“These so-called slaves are more like messengers or representatives, I take it,” he added, dryly, his words aimed at the slave as much as everyone else. “Even if he is your typical slave, it’s like something expensive that knows it’s expensive.” An image of Lynx flashed before his eyes.

It was always the more spirited guards that made his former life easy. They weren’t loyal to much apart from coin and beer, so all it took was either a bribe or waiting for one to sneak off for a drink before staging anything. Any not swayed by either would receive a special visit from a voluptuous illusion to compliment arm muscles and ask for directions to places that didn’t exist. This eager guard seemed to belong to the third category. It’s been awhile since I’ve given anyone the bustling Bertha special. he thought.

“Expensive, is not. Is important. Word is better.” The slave said while still looking ahead. “Freshlander language be small. No good is words.” The guard gave an uneasy chuckle and shrugged.

Ferris listened to the slave quietly, his eyes flicking over the slave’s face and garbs. The slave said he was not expensive, but what did that mean? Was he easy to replace, then, or was it just that the average slave was spare change to the Kharu? As for being important, there were different shades like being precious, valuable, or useful. The word seemed to imply all three of those, but the slave also admitted that the word did not fully convey the meaning, so where was it lacking?

“What language do you usually speak, then?” Ferris asked, looking between the slave and the townsfolk around them now. It was clear that they were not from around here, and perhaps they were not from any of the major lands either. But where, then, did the Kharu source his slaves? Was that how he’d accumulated his wealth and influence, or was he merely partaking in an existing trade?

The slave turned his head ever so slightly. Just enough to give Ferris a look of uncertainty.

“They don’t usually talk much.” The guard whispered over to Ferris.

The slave frowned at the words and turned his gaze back ahead. “Is called Kharu-Nhatkel. ‘Voice’ be kharu. Home is Nhatkel. ‘Nhatkel’s Voice’ is meaning.”

“Kha... ru... Nhat… kel.” Octavio spoke slowly, enunciating each vowel with an unnecessary amount of care.

“Never heard of it.”

“‘Kharu-Nhatkel’ word is Kharu-Nhatkel.” The Slave said without a moment’s pause. “Man did be hearing of it.”

The guard bellowed out a laugh. “Here, I thought you people had no sense of humor. It appears I was wrong.”

The slave glanced back at them. There was a faint look of satisfaction in his eyes. The boy smothered it quickly and looked back ahead.

“Was rude. Is wrong. Proper it be not.” The slave said. “Kharu-Nhatkel not be from freshlands. Be from far lands.”

“Far lands?” The guard repeated.

“Be south-east.” The slave said. “Past sands that rot… Or be through waters that burn.”

“Waters that burn?”

The slave looked to the guard. “Freshlanders not be knowing waters that burn?” The boy asked. The guard shrugged, prompting a shake of the head from the slave. “Freshlanders be Freshlanders.” The slave sighed.

Ferris considered the slave’s words, sharing in Octavio’s lack of knowledge. While he could be said to be well-traveled due to his mercenary jobs, that was only within Saencila, which was self-sufficient enough that he’d never heard of a far-off “Kharu-Nhatkel”. As for the term “far lands”, he had come across it before, as well as the concept of sands that rot. Many people told similar tales of the deeper parts of the Dead Sands, though Ferris had never paid much attention to them. Similar to waters that burn, he’d passed them off as tall tales told by drunk men regaling strangers with exaggerated stories of their youth. Ferris no sooner believed these tales than he’d believed tales of mountains of water or forests of fire, and it was unclear just how seriously the slave was taking this conversation. As far as he was concerned, the slave might have been traded at such a young age that he was only passing along tales he’d heard from others, but then again the Kharu’s slaves didn’t seem to have a sense of humor in general, so perhaps all these tall tales held truth.

More than the introduction of Kharu-Nhatkel, Ferris was caught by the statement that “Kharu” meant “voice”. The Kharu-Natjer, then, meant “voice of something,” and Ferris looked at the slave, wondering whether there was any harm in asking.

“What does the Kharu-Natjer’s name mean, then?”

“Not name.” The slave’s tone darken. “Is of The Hemtypt-Natj-” The slave cut his words off and shook his head. “-is title… one of titles...” He said. “Kharu-Natjer never be having name. Lost. Name be cut away...” The slave folded his arms and looked to the ground. For a while he said nothing.

“God...” The slave said uneasily. “Natjer is God. Good, not be word. Is good enough.”

There were certainly a lot of implications Octavio could have drawn from a slave calling its master a god. The first and most obvious was assuming the Kharu-Natjer was far more hungry for power than he had assumed, going as far as commanding his slaves to worship him. Or it could’ve been a cultural difference. He’d read enough about the world to know that some people interpreted one’s given name as something sacred and important, and the whole explanation behind titles and names could have been less spiritual and more about formalities. It was much to think about.

“Is God another title for him?” he asked. It was best to keep his words short and simple, lest he get more questions than answers.

“God word be not good.” The slave said in a firm voice. “Only be good enough.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “One title, Kharu-Natjer be having. Title be Kharu-Natjer.”

The slave looked to Octavio. “Kharu-Natjer be not god. Be only man… He be not first. He be not last... When Kharu-Natjer dead, new slave be Kharu-Natjer.”

The guard frowned. He look more than a little uncomfortable. He obviously hadn’t expected the conversation to go in such a direction.

It was a language barrier, then. A title that signified something close to a god, but bore no relation with the concept of being some sort of deity. This did nothing to satisfy Octavio, as he now began to mull over the implications of the power one had to have if people’s first instinct was to describe you as a sort of god. Even at his most narcissistic and power-hungry, Octavio’s visions of what he’d look like after amassing a dragon’s hoard of gold tended to consist of vapid materialism. That people would go after the approval of others to the point of turning humans into something similar to furniture was something that he had never understood.

“...So the man we know as the Kharu-Natjer used to be a slave?” the words came out with ease, in a light tone that he wore to hide his now ravenous curiosity. He was crossing a line and he knew it.

The slave met Octavio’s and frowned. He did not reply, however.

The slave’s unease wasn’t lost on Ferris, but he supported both Octavio’s questions and the way they were delivered. In a way, Octavio was much better suited to asking such questions than him, given his more direct approach. He disliked the concept of beating around the bush, and although he knew that a gentle touch was necessary at times, he hadn’t been in so many situations where he’d been doing the delicate questioning. Proud soldiers and hardened warriors were his most common conversation partners, and they respected directness much more than others. So, Ferris decided to remain silent, meeting Octavio’s eyes and giving him a subtle nod to communicate his respect and agreement.

“All men is being slave.” The slave said at last. “More slave than other men, some be. Kharu-Natjer? Still slave. Bodyguards? Slave. Packmakers? …” The slave raised his head at the pause. His gaze, expressionless. “Packmakers be slave.”

“Sir,” The guard interjected. “this is the place.”

The slave nodded and raised his hand to signal the others to stop. The group had stopped in the back of an ordinary looking building. It wasn’t very big or old, just… ordinary. The slave walked up to the door and knocked. He waited a moment before knocking again. Still no answer. One more knock. This time the door opened to reveal a hunched over old man with almond shaped eyes.

“Yes yes yes! You’re at the door. Only knocked a dozen times, didn’t ya? Did they take our bribe to-”

The old man paused and adjusted his spectacles. He looked the slave up and down, before taking in the guards behind the slave. “What do you want?” He asked.

“Salt.” The slave replied.

“Salt?” The man repeated flatly. “You’re telling me ya came here with a load of guards just to buy some salt?” The old man shook his head. “Not buying it. What did that rascal do this time?”

The slave sighed and pulled out a large pouch at his side. He loosened the pouch’s string and let it drop to the ground. Gold coins spilled out from the opening. Other than a minor raising of his brow, the old man did well to hide his interest in the coin.

“What’s that supposed to be?” He asked.

“Moneys.” The slave said.

“Oh, yes! Money! Of course!” The man replied sarcastically. “You think me daft boy? I can see it’s money! I’ll make far more than that for the salt once I reach my buyer!”

“Not buyer.” The slave said. “Supplier.”

The old man’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Who are you?” He growled.

“Not matter.” The slave replied, his hands clasped behind his back.

“Doesn’t matter?!” The old man spat. The slave frowned at the man’s reaction. He looked to the guard from earlier and gave him a nod. “You come here, uninvited. Asking for my product. Product I haven’t informed anybody of. And you to top it off y-”

The guard pulled the cover off the cart they brought with them. It was full of barrels and crates. The old man’s words trailed off. His eyes widened. Grumpy expression replaced with surprise.

“Supplies.” The slave said, waving his hand to the cart.

“Supplies...” The old man repeated in a whisper.

“Dyes. Paints. Tools. All there.” Said the slave.

For a moment, the man’s mouth gaped in awe. With a shake of his head, he reluctantly tore his gaze away from the cart and recomposed himself.

“Doesn’t do me any good.” He grouched. “Can’t leave the city. They won’t-”

“Moneys.” The slave repeated. Using his foot, he nudged the coin pouch he dropped to the ground. “For bribe.”

The old man blinked. He looked to the slave dumbfoundedly.

“Not be enough?” The slave asked. “Have more.”

The guard approached carrying two more large pouches. He dropped the new pouches next to the other pouch.

“Why-” The man started.

“Not matter.” The slave repeated. This time more insistently. “Salt matter.”

The old man looked to the slave, the gold coins and then the cart. “Let me see if everything checks out. If so, we have a deal.”

---

It took the remainder of the morning for the exchange to be made. Most of it was spent reviewing the supplies to ensure everything checked out.

Twice, the man tried playing hard ball. Perhaps in an effort to see if he could get something more out of the slave. Both times, the slave pushed back. The second time, he threatened to leave the old man with nothing. That ended any additional negotiation. The old man knew he was on the better end of the deal. Pushing further wasn’t worth the risk. When everything was settled, the man thanked the slave for his business and left the group with a smug smile on his face.

“Trade done.” The slave said to the group. “Back we be going.” He looked to Octavio. “Good, man did. No more be pulling cart. Extra moneys all be getting.”

The guards cheered merrily at that. Many of them patted Octavio on the back as if he were a hero. And with that, the group headed off. Back in direction they came from.

Octavio hid his bewilderment with a skill only someone who had spent the better part of their lives being morally questionable could have. It wasn’t just getting the job done, but additional moneys? Gold, the lubricant for the soul that made people do bad things. He flashed a winning smile and knew there was no better reply at that moment than to shut up.

Ferris listened to the guards cheer without feeling much himself. While getting paid was nice, money had never been his goal. Still, he’d come along to learn more about the Kharu-Natjer, and in a way he’d fulfilled that goal. He’d learned that the Kharu lacked no money and served a kingdom from far away, but that made his presence in Saencila that much stranger. Why was he here, then? The slave’s insistence on calling everyone slaves of some sort made it seem like the Kharu, too, was serving someone or something, but what? Him helping the Land of Sight defend themselves seemed too good to be true, and Ferris didn’t believe in pure goodness. There was an endgame here somewhere. Ferris just had to find it.

“Does your homeland have entities like the Sightless?” Ferris asked the slave. He was indirectly seeking an answer to his question, but judging by how easily the slave got offended earlier, he figured taking it slow and assuming good intentions first would be good.

Octavio set his eyes on Ferris, noting the lack of attention he displayed towards their reward. Huh. So he really wasn’t the type to care about money all that much. He knew that snooping for information about the Kharu-Natjer was their unspoken little goal, but he couldn’t help but wonder about Ferris’ intentions as well. It was something to get in a fight with Lynx about later.

“...No.” The slave said hesitantly. His pace seemed to slow. His gaze turning vacant. “Have… other things… broken things...”

Ferris watched the slave’s body language shift, watched as his eyes turned empty, and figured he’d touched another sensitive subject. The slave seemed to know more than he was letting on, but why wasn’t he talking? From their conversations so far, he seemed to be the type who liked correcting misconceptions and clarifying things for “freshlanders”, yet he was holding back now.

Deciding that he’d try pushing a bit further first, Ferris pursued the point. “What do you mean?”

The slave looked to Ferris warily. There was a troubled look in his eyes. “Nhatkel… land is broken… Horrors everywhere… Bug-eyed creatures be wearing man skin… Steal memories… Devour family…” The slave shivered. “Plants that crawl… they be infecting, eating then infesting… Living mists…” The slave shook his head. “Many things be with powers over mind… turn mind against...”

The slave said nothing for a while. Instead he simply stared straight ahead. “... Nhatkel… Not be wanting to talk more.” He said in a soft voice. “Freshlanders talking too much.”

The slave quickened his pace. Pointedly staying ahead of Octavio and Ferris.

“Sounds like things are bad no matter where you are.” From the man who had spent his whole life running, the words carried a weight that would have gone unnoticed. In a lower voice, heeding the slave’s warning, he continued. “Then again, if they’re setting up shop during times like these, it makes sense for their home to be like that.”

There was much more he wanted to say, to get some ideas circulating with the others. He was well aware that this slave would most likely relay anything important back to the Kharu-Natjer, however, so he held off. He thought of Svephraey, who had no qualms with showing some of her hand within the man’s territory. Did her utility outweigh a risk like that, or was the Kharu-Natjer less aware than he seemed? The recent memory of the pouches of gold rang in his mind. It was the former. Probably.

“Yeah,” Ferris said, watching as the slave quickened his pace. Pushing further hadn’t been the best or smartest move, perhaps, but he’d gotten valuable information from it. Whether the slave would tell the Kharu what they’d been talking about didn’t matter too much. They were curious about who their allies were, which was natural for anyone in their position, especially given how little information the Kharu had given them.

“It makes you wonder whether they were driven out of their home, or if they chose to leave it,” he said when the slave reached the head of the pack. From what the slave had said, it sounded like their home was in an even worse position than Salencia, so it was only natural that they would’ve wanted to leave. Were they truly slaves, then, or was that just a more innocuous label than “settlers” or “refugees”?

“At least we have a better idea of who they are now,” Ferris said, glancing between the slave and the guards, who seemed rather preoccupied with discussing after-work celebrations. “And we know that they don’t like talking about their past.”

The remainder of the trip was uneventful. The cart made it back safely. The slave gave everyone a fair share in coin. And the soldiers said their farewells.

“Get rest.” The slave said, handing Ferris and Octavio their pay. “Big day, tomorrow is being.”

The slave gave the two a nod and turned to make his leave. As the slave left, his features returned to normal. Whatever magic he used to change his looks, now gone.

If anything the venture had been a good distraction. A distraction from the battle that was to come.

With the immediate danger having passed, Karina and the rest of the group had found some strange new allies. The "Kharu-Natjer" and his slaves and Malkev. Between both, the one who called himself "Kharu-Natjer" was the most mysterious one. Not much was known about him. The only thing Karina knew, for now, was that he seemed to be against the cult as well and since "The enemy of my enemy is my friend", he would gain more by aiding them than betraying them. Not that it meant that Karina would trust him and his slaves, but at least she would have her rapier constantly pointed at him. Malkev on the other hand was someone they had a bit more information about and seemed to be more 'open' and not as secretive as the other one. According to his own words, Malkev was the head of the Watch, or at least of what remained of it after what the cultists did to the town. That said, despite the situation the Watch found itself, it still could move around the town drawing little to no suspicion as it was seen favourably by the population. With both the goal of knowing more about the situation around the town and the Watch itself, Karina tried volunteered herself to aid Malkev and his men to patrol some areas of the city. Disguising herself as a member of the watch would make it way less dangerous to walk around and it would draw little suspicion. It would also be a good way to earn Malkev's trust enough for him to tell what he knew about the city, the cult and any information he could give her.

After disguising herself with the Watch's uniform and getting a large backpack, which was used to carry food and other supplies that would be distributed around some communities in order to gather support and offer some well needed relief and hope to those that weren't pawns for the cult yet.

Ferris had a similar mentality when it came to the group’s new allies. While he by no means trusted Malkev and the Kharu-Natjer, he knew it’d be foolish not to at least give them a chance, considering the power they seemed to wield and what they’d already done for the group. Given that the group was taking a few days to rest, though, Ferris was taking up the opportunity to get to know their new allies, and only partially because he couldn’t manage to sit around for more than a few seconds. Committing to the group meant committing to saving the town in some way or another, but it also meant committing to staying in one place for as long as was necessary. The last time he’d stopped—fully stopped—in a city was more than a while ago, but that was the life of a mercenary, and in a way he was just currently on a long, relatively stagnant job.

Though he wasn’t one for uniforms, the guard in the patrol he’d volunteered to join had “strongly encouraged” wearing it, so Ferris had done so, even going so far as to leave his hat and scarf in his room. If he was going to don a disguise, he could at least make sure it was a good one.

Upon arriving at the gates where the patrol was to meet, Ferris was surprised to see Karina already present. While he wasn’t one to arrive late, he’d been urged out early today due to a general restlessness from being cooped up underground for so long, and he’d been impatiently counting down the hours until the patrol since he woke up. What surprised him, though, was that it seemed Karina had the same idea about picking up odd jobs around the place to learn more about Malkev and the Khar. Patrolling the town would give them an understanding of what they were dealing with: Who were their daily enemies, and how did their territory look? The patrol routes would lend an understanding of which parts of town were the busiest or most favored, and the reaction of the townsfolk would show how the guard, and by extension, Malkev, was favored around town. Plus there was an opportunity to talk with the guards, if they were the type to talk during patrols. Either way, patrolling was definitely one of the more efficient ways to gain information around here, and Ferris had no doubt that was why Karina chose to join the patrol as well.

He gave her a nod as he approached. “How are your injuries healing up?” he asked. As more members of the patrol arrived, Ferris noted that his face felt a bit bare without his scarf, but it was nothing new. His true enemies were too far away, too confident in his nothingness to care.

Despite her being wearing the Watch’s uniform, Karina still stuck out like a sore thumb among the other member who were also going to patrol around the area. Her delicate and small figure was far from what one would think it was ideal for that type of job. While some of the other members were looking at her with a clear thought of ‘what is this girl doing here’ in mind, few of them knew exactly what she was capable of.

”Oh Ferris. Didn’t expect to see anyone here.” Karina said, turning to Ferris as he called out to her.

“Oh thank you but I’m fine. Other than a few bruises and scratches I’m perfectly fine.” she said with a smile as she thanked Ferris for worrying about her.

”Despite my position in the army, I’m also a woman and I do take care of my appearance. Scars would ruin my skin.” Karina said with a discreet chuckle.

”Besides, I do have a talent for not getting hurt. Having a small body also have its advantages, doesn’t it? she said with a discreet smile as she finished checking her equipment before going patrolling.

”So… I assume you’re here for the same reason I am, right? Karina asked, her expression and tone suddenly changing to a serious one.

”Along with that ‘Kharu-Natjer’ person, the Watch is the only other ally we can count on while inside the city. I don’t think it will be easy to earn the former’s trust enough so he tells us more about him so instead I’m helping the Watch in their patrols. We need to know more about them if we’re going to be allies after all.” Karina finished. Despite her words though, Ferris would notice that there was a small hint of caution in her voice, almost as if she didn’t blindly trust neither the Watch nor the Kharu before knowing more about them.

”Are you coming along?” Karina asked, looking to Ferris.

Ferris received Karina’s comment about being a woman and taking care of her appearance with a delayed nod, not quite sure how to take that. Most of the women he was used to were either full warriors who’d given up counting their scars or the type to stay off the battlefield entirely. That scars would ruin skin was obvious, and Karina quoted her dexterity with such ease that Ferris would’ve believed it even if he hadn’t seen it firsthand. Her clear skin, then, was a testament to her skill. So far, the group the Being had gathered never ceased to impress.

“I’m here to learn more about the Watch. Anything else is a bonus,” he said when she asked about why he’d chosen to join the patrol. Encouraging Malkev to trust him hadn’t crossed his mind. Perhaps it was because of Malkev’s initial reaction to him, or perhaps he had an innate distrust of people with as much power as the Kharu, but he didn’t expect Malkev or the Kharu to ever trust the group, at least not fully. At best, the group was working toward the same goals as the Watch and the Kharu. At worst, well, that’s what Ferris was here to find out and safeguard against.

“Yes. Let’s go,” he said, adjusting his backpack as he followed the guards leading the patrol out the gate.

The sky outside was changing from the Distortion’s purple night sky to a pitch black signalling the coming of dawn, A green hue lit the north, where the sun was beginning to rise. Despite the darkened sky, the lighting on the ground appeared quite normal for dawn. It made for quite a bizarre contrast.

While the town seemed to be slowly waking, the patrol was on full alert as they filed down the designated path. Given that he didn’t know the patrol route, Ferris kept pace in the latter third of the group, allowing the guards in front of him to lead the way. Instead, he kept his attention split between the guards and the townsfolk they passed, listening for conversation from either. Talking on patrols wasn’t unheard of, but different groups had different rules. Malkev didn’t strike him as the type to let his soldiers slack, but then again commanders had many faces.

Karina stood mostly in the middle of the group, just in front of Ferris. Just like him, she had her eyes and ears on full alert to anything interesting she might hear from both the others who were patrolling with them or the townsfolk as well. Since the watch had more of a reputation around the town, the locals might open themselves in their presence much more than they would around a group of outsiders.

"I don't know what to think of that Kharu person yet, but Malkev... He can be a valuable ally for us. Earning his trust and knowing more about the Watch itself would certainly benefit us." Karina said in a low tone as she slowed her pace a bit to get near Ferris.

"At least until the military of touch sends someone to aid us... We're stuck with the hand we're given." Karina said with a rather annoyed tone in her voice.

Malkev had started the march at the center of the group, walking beside a draped cart presumably filled with cargo. As they progressed, he made a point to stop by each member of The Watch and thank them for their assistance in this venture. At length he made his way to Karina and Ferris. He eyed Ferris with a frown before settling his gaze on Karina.

“Thank you for volunteering to assist us today. Senses knows we needed the help.” The man said as he fell in line beside Karina. “I don’t believe we’ve had the chance for a proper introduction... Or rather, I don’t believe you’ve had the chance.”

Before Ferris could reply though, Malkev, who was personally thanking each member of The Watch for their assistance walked towards them, to thank both of them for the help, just like he did to the other members. Unlike them though, Malkev did stay in line near Karina, mentioning that they weren't properly introduced.

"Indeed, our meeting wasn't exactly calm, was it?" Karina said as she looked at Malkev.

"I'm Karina, pleased to meet you." she said, introducing herself with a nod. She didn't want to reveal her surname nor her position to him yet as she didn't know what Malkev would think of her if he knew who exactly she was.

“A pleasure.” Malkev said with his deep, rich voice. He gave the woman a minor bow of the head.

"The Watch is one of the few allies we can still trust to fight against the cult. If we want to survive, we should help ourselves." Karina finished, referring to the reason why she was helping The Watch.

“I just want them out of my home.” He replied. “But after that...” Malkev frowned. “The Nation of Touch’s army is coming… I don’t know what we’ll do...”

Ferris listened to the exchange with interest. From the sound of it, Malkev seemed to put the town first, even calling it his home. Suddenly it occurred to Ferris that the man could have a family in town, a wife and children he cared for and genuinely did not want to see hurt. If such were the case, trust could indeed be part of the equation because as much as they distrusted each other, Ferris could trust a man to protect his family.

He glanced at Karina. From what the Being had told him, she had ties to the Touch military. She was choosing not to share that for now, then, and Ferris respected that. Considering how much Malkev had disliked him for his magic, it wasn’t unreasonable to think Malkev would turn the same disdain on Karina if she revealed that she was affiliated with the Touch. A man would go to great lengths to protect his family, after all.

“One problem at a time works well,” Ferris noted. Keeping attention fixed on the cult was a good idea both because the cult was their biggest problem now and because it’d keep attention off the Touch and therefore Karina. Though, considering the Kharu and his penchant for secrecy, Ferris wouldn’t be surprised if Malkev already knew the truth about Karina. But that depended on how close he was to the Kharu, and giving away information was never a good idea in Ferris’ book.

Malkev paid the Crazed a contemptuous sidelong glance. “Is what I keep telling myself.” He said.

It seemed that Karina's decision to not tell Malkev about her ties to the military of touch was the right choice, judging by how he sounded about it. That said, there was not much choice regarding that matter. The cult already had turned the king into one of their puppets. In the state the town is right now, even if the cult disappeared, surrendering the city to the military of touch was the better option instead of keeping the current king or having no king at all.

"Indeed. Things are already complicated enough with just the cult... If that wasn't enough, there is the issue about how they transformed even the king in their puppet." Karina said, agreeing with Ferris, thankful that he also tried to change the subject instead of further talking about the military.

"There is still a lot we don't know about the cult. Their powers, what exactly they can do... Even how far their influence has spread outside of this city. Right now, they are a potential threat for the entire world if they continue to get stronger, not only to this city. We can't give them a chance to recover themselves when we strike them. They need to be eliminated." Karina said with a serious tone as she looked at Malkev.

"And that is what the military of touch would do. This city, as the root of the cult, couldn't be left to its own devices, lest they wanted the cult to continue growing." she thought to herself as she looked at the sky, now warped due to the distortion. No matter if Malkev would call her a traitor later, but he would be thankful for her and the Military of Touch's interference later on, when this is all over.

Malkev frowned. “Good luck with that then.” He said. “I’m going to have my hands full just getting things back in order here, once we are done.”

The tall man sighed. Clasping his hands behind him, he stared ahead as if in thought. “I don’t buy it.” He said at last. “King Y’lleant would never let this happen! They must have tricked him somehow or taken his poor son hostage!” Malkev nodded to himself. “Yes… there has to be some other explanation here. Both King Y’lleant and my cousin… Their attitudes changed far too quickly for it to actually be them calling the shots.”

From what Ferris knew, Y’lleant was the reigning Sight king. The rest of Malkev’s statement, however, was lost on him since he was not aware of what was happening with the Sight military, but Malkev’s mention of a cousin caught his attention.

“Your cousin?” he asked, meeting the man’s eyes stonily. Malkev had his thoughts of Ferris clear, and Ferris didn’t mind them. In all honesty, it was a normal and rather common prejudice, and Ferris was more tired of it than anything. One could distrust whatever they wanted. It was when and how they acted on that distrust that Ferris could and would take offense.

Malkev furrowed his brow as if confused. “Yes... my cousin… Lord O’Kal...” He said as if this were common knowledge. “Did neither of you know who I am? What The Watch is?”

Karina heard what Malkev said regarding the king. Even though she didn't know the king, Malkev did seem to know him very well and did mention how he was acting strangely. Considering the strange things she saw the cultists doing, especially those Sightless, it wasn't that far fetched to think that they could have, somehow controlled the king using their powers or something... But that didn't change what she and the military should do. The king was unfit to rule, incapable. The fact that he allowed all this to happen, being controlled or not, already said a lot about his capabilities as a king. Such organization like the Cult doesn't just appear out of nowhere and simply starts controlling the city...

"Wait... Lord O'Kal is your cousin?!" Karina asked, raising an eyebrow and completely interrupting her own thoughts the second she heard Malkev saying that, after Ferris asked about it, confirming what Malkev had just asked. Neither of them seemed to know exactly what The Watch was.

“Of course he’s my cousin.” He said looking a tad bemused. “My reputation in this town might be overshadowed by my older brother’s, but I still have one.” Malkev paused for a moment. “You two aren’t from around here, are you?”

Ferris glanced at Malkev, surprised at the man’s question. He’d assumed that the Kharu had told Malkev about the group already, or at least enough to keep him informed on another possible Crazed in town, but apparently not. From Malkev’s question, then, it seemed that he’d deduced that Ferris and Karina weren’t locals, and perhaps that they weren’t Sight people altogether. Since it was better safe and sorry, Ferris figured his default cover, which was mostly true, worked fine.

“I’m a mercenary. Recently came into town,” Ferris said, then glanced at Karina. Did she need a cover too? Given that they honestly didn’t know each other that well, she could easily claim to be a mercenary as well, especially given that sellswords tended to get hired in groups for bigger missions. In a way, the Being had done exactly that: He’d hired Ferris, and maybe the rest of the group, with promises rather than gold.

"No. Had a delivery to make around these parts. Stopped by the city to rest for a bit and ended up in this situation." Karina replied when Malkev asked if they were from around the city, using the same cover story she had used when she first arrived in the city.

"It is one of the reasons why I'm trying to make some allies... We'll be stuck here for a while... It would be better if I knew a few people that I could rely on if things suddenly get ugly." she finished.
“A mercenary... and a lady out on a delivery...” Malkev’s started with a distasteful tone only to soften his attitude after the pause. “You two are quite an odd pair… Though I suppose the same can be said of my alliance with the Kheru-Natjer and… that woman...”

Though Malkev’s thoughts on Ferris were clear, Ferris had never let anyone’s opinions come before his job or goals, and currently his job was to patrol and his goal was to get more information. If Malkev didn’t want to answer questions, he need only walk away.

“Why have you allied with them then?” Ferris asked, keeping his tone even but firm.

Malkev pursed his lips. His brow furrowed. “Because…” He said. “I have no other choice.”

For a while, Malkev said nothing. He just stared straight ahead. His frustration clear on his face.
“One of Svephraey’s goons came to us days before the day of madness. Warning us of the danger to come... The man had snuck into my brother’s home. Waited in his room in the shadows. Waited to speak to him alone… It’s fair to say, after an encounter like that, we didn’t listen.

Another pause. “He had been like the goons from the day before. The ones who sacrificed themselves to save you… I don’t like that woman… She makes my skin crawl. The thugs in this town appear to respect her… but those minions of her… What kind of thugs, employed by a woman like her, will risk their own lives for strangers like you? Its-”

Malkev shook his head. “But no, I’m getting off track...” Malkev gave the two a serious look. “We initially had been trying to convince my cousin to refuse the cultists entry, but after that first day, we’ve been refused entrance into his manor and he no longer responded to our inquiries. So… my brother came up with a plan. He made contact with someone who could send in help to remove the cult from the city. He refused to tell me who, but… Well I assume that it was someone within the King’s army… We were supposed to open the gates for them and…”

Malkev sighed. “None of that matters now.” Malkev said quietly. “My older brother died the day everyone went mad. Died from my own two hands… I killed him in a fit of madness.”

The tall man frowned. “Whatever his plan had been, it’s of no use to us now… With my brother gone, I took his place as the overseer of The Watch… Many of our members died that day… In any case, Svephraey’s goon came back for another visit the day after the madness. The same day you and your friends found the Kheru-Natjer… With no other means of fighting back… I listened that time.”

Karina stood silent as Malkev mentioned the Kheru-Natjer and the mysterious woman. They were an unknown variable that certainly worried Karina. She knew almost nothing about them and the extent and reason for their allegiance to the group was... hazy at best. Ferris also did seem to be searching for more information regarding them, including why Malkev, who didn't seem the type to ally himself with such people did so.

Malkev's reasoning was... plausible. In the situation he and The Watch was in, choice was one of the things they didn't have. Malkev also didn't like her that much. Her minions were indeed... strange. Karina had already noticed that before but hearing Malkev saying it only confirmed that. No one, no matter how loyal, would easily die for strangers like that. Throwing themselves into danger without much care for their own lives... What was even more surprising though was what Malkev said after that. Apparently, one of Svephraey's goons tried to warn him and his brother about the cult and everything that was about to happen, days before everything started. Svephraey and the Kheru knew much more than they were telling them...

"I share your views regarding Svephraey and the Kheru-Natjer... They know more than what they're telling us. We're not in a position to choose our allies, but I would be a bit cautious with them." Karina said after hearing Malkev.

"Regarding the plan you had of asking assistance to someone outside the city... It may not be that useless. I was able to contact someone outside the town. I only had time to send a single word with the aid of one of the members of our group before the cultists found our location but if he understood that word, help will surely come for me." Karina finished, carefully watching Malkev's reaction as she said that to him.

Malkev arched an eyebrow at her words. “Help? From who?”

"Help." Karina replied to Malkev's question with a firm tone.

"You- We aren't exactly in a position to choose who will help us." she said, still looking to Malkev with a fierce expression.

"The cult. It needs to be dealt with. Otherwise... Well... You saw what they did with this town and it's people." she completed, looking to Malkev and waiting for a reply.

Malkev frowned at her choice of words. “Why is it that I feel like everyone is pressing my back against a wall...” He muttered.

The man looked to Ferris and then Karina. With a nod he moved on to the front of the group. His head lowered as if deep in thought.

Ferris watched Malkev leave with a curious expression, then turned to Karina. “Why didn’t you tell him about your background?” There were numerous reasons why, and Ferris knew that, but he wanted to hear hers. Maybe it was privacy, or maybe it was so she could keep an ace up her sleeve. Or, maybe, there was a reason Ferris wasn’t aware of yet.

“The Being told me,” he said after a pause, figuring he should clarify where he was getting his information from. He was asking her something that could be personal, so he’d keep himself as transparent as possible. To show that he had no bad intentions, and that he was willing to answer additional questions, if she had any.

The moment Karina heard Ferris talking about her background, she looked at him, raising her eyebrow. How did he know about it? It wasn't like anyone other than Chres knew it. Did he told Ferris about it? Regarding his question, it would be easier to ask why would she tell someone of her background than otherwise. Keeping her identity hidden was the very definition of being undercover. After a moment, Ferris spoke again, interrupting her thoughts as he mentioned 'the being', the same thing that appeared to her and the others back when the city wasn't like... this.

"The being... It's really good it is just giving away my information to others." Karina said with an unsatisfied tone.

"I assume you know who I am already. I also assume that you know that the Nation of Touch and the Nation of Sight are currently on war... right? My reason to come here is because I am... or was... undercover. I had a sneaking suspicion that the cult was more than just a small religious group and that it could prove to be a problem... Unfortunately... I was right." Karina said in a grim tone.

So she’d been sent ahead as a spy. That was quite a piece of information the Being had left out of his explanation for Ferris, but it hadn’t done any harm. He wasn't the type to go spreading information, of course, but it was still good that he knew why he shouldn’t, if only for future reference.

“The cult is a problem for both sides, but only the Sight are fighting it right now,” Ferris said. “The Touch could use that to their advantage—though joining forces to defeat the cult first would be the more honorable move. I assume that’s what you want too?”

Ferris already knew too much about her thanks to that damn being, but when he began prodding what were her goals and asking more questions, Karina stopped and looked at him with a look of suspicion.

"You are asking too much, Ferris..." Karina said, looking at him with a serious stare.

"The Cult needs to be stopped and eliminated, no matter how. What I am trying to do is changing the priorities of the Military of Touch. Temporarily, at least." Karina replied. Her tone and expression as she said that were clear, almost a warning advising Ferris against keeping asking too much about her and things he shouldn't know about the military.

At Karina’s assertion, Ferris paused. “Right,” he said. “Apologies.” He’d set out to build rapport, not break it, though he supposed he had failed to estimate how much Karina’s assignment meant to her. The machinations of one person were essentially those of a nation, for now, and he remained an outside entity.

Looking around, he spotted a few guards conversing with each other, though joining their conversations didn’t seem wise with Malkev at the head of the patrol. The guards need only glance forward to remember whether they should hold their tongue.

"I hope you understand why I'm being cautious. As you know, I'm still a high ranking officer in the Military of Touch. I shouldn't be careless regarding what I say since most things I know are important information with critical value." Karina said after Ferris replied.

"When you are in a position such as mine, the things you say and the things you know can cause deaths or save lives. I do consider you allies, but certain things go beyond me... You understand?" she asked, trying to explain to Ferris why she said what she said. She didn't want him to think she simply didn't want to tell things to him and was doing it out of bad will.

"Let's go, we should at least try to pay some attention on the patrol." Karina said to Ferris as they continued walking.

Ferris nodded. “Of course.” He didn’t tend to rub shoulders with people in high places, but he understood the concepts. Secrecy over honesty since information trumped all. He didn’t fault her for not wanting to share, nor did he mind the words she’d chosen. As one who respected honesty, he didn’t mind when people didn’t mince words, and he’d been told off in worse ways.

“I doubt we’re the only patrol out,” he said as they walked. “Malkev is here too. They must have stepped up security.”

The group walked for some time longer, until finally reaching the market square. There, they halted their carts in an empty spot some distance away from where the usual food merchants were now soliciting people to the cult.

“Never have I known a merchant unwilling to accept money!” One of the civilians shouted. “Just what are they paying you people?”

“Does it matter?” One of the merchants said. “The Clan is handing out our merchandise for free. Never have I known a peasant unwilling to eat for free.”

“Peasant!?” Another man exclaimed angrily. “At least we aren’t greedy little pigs!”

“Greedy?” A second merchant spat. “Allowing our merchandise to be handed out for free is greedy now, is it?”

“It isn’t free when we are being forced to sit through a sermon just have a bite to eat!” The first civilian shouted back. “And don’t act like you are all saints. Just how much are they paying you people anyway?!”
The crowd there was growing increasingly angry. One person tried to shove past the other in order to get to a merchant. However, he was quickly intercepted by one of the many Cults thugs at the ready.

“Step back!” The Cultists shouted. “We do not wish to hurt any of you. These men, though greedy they may be, are simply following the guidelines we have provided for them. We are simply trying to bring order back from the chaos that started three days prior.”

“Nobody went mad until the Distortion arrived. How is that bringing order?” A woman shouted.

“The Distortion simply gifts knowledge, not chaos. We can teach you to use this knowledge. To wield it. We have food, supplies, whatever you need to to keep your families from starving. Lord O’Kal’s absence has dug you poor people into a hole. We simply wish to give you the means to climb your way out. Yes our food comes at the price of a sermon, but at the end of the day it’s still-”

Throughout all of this, Malkev and his men had set to work. The carts they brought had been built in such a way to convert into what appeared to be a stall. Its contents, however, had remained covered throughout all of this. As the guards busied about their work, it was then that Malkev began speaking...

“Ladies! Gentlemen! I… I am sorry.” Malkev began shouting. Oddly his voice seemed magnified. Magic perhaps?

A few of the townsfolk had turned away to look, but most were still busy arguing with the merchants and cultist.

“The Cultists are right!” Malkev continued. “Lord O’Kal has fail us! The town guard, who man the walls, have failed us. And I, Malkev, cousin to Lord O’Kal have also failed you. I failed to act. I failed to prevent this… I even failed my own brother.”

By this time much more of the crowd had turned to listened. Even the preaching cultist’s words had trailed off.

Malkev stared at the ground as if in pain. The death of his brother was still fresh. Slowly, the man raised his head. He looked to the crowd with resolve. “I refuse to fail you any longer.”

At that moment, the guards whipped off the cover to the stalls. Underneath lay all manner food and supplies.

“The cultists offer you food for free. Well, so do I. But the food I have here comes not at the cost of your time. It comes from my own good graces.”

The crowd began to mutter. Some even began to draw towards Malkev. The cultist began whispering amongst themselves. The one who had been preaching gave Malkev a dark stare.

“Unfortunately, I do not have enough food for all, but I will do my best to distribute the food fairly.”

One of the cultist thugs started moving towards Malkev, but was stopped by the cultist who had been preaching.

“Now then,” Malkev said. “Who’s first?”

---

The distorted green sun had risen high above by the time they finished distributing the food. Surprisingly the cultists had left Malkev alone. In fact, they had dispersed shortly after Malkev stole their crowd.

“I cannot do this again.” Malkev said after they had finished packing up and had begun to leave. “At least not like this. They will have their eye on me now.”

Arriving at the market square, Karina saw the entire scene unfolding, the cultists trying to do their brainwashing by using food to attract civilians. Fortunately, they didn't seem to like the preaching that much and some of them weren't as stupid as the others, knowing that the distortion and the cult were making people go mad. Karina really wanted to stop the cultist preachers and deal with that but seeing on how she was currently a part of Malkev's patrol and wasn't really the one responsible for such patrol, she held herself and simply waited for Malkev's orders.

Fortunately, when Malkev started speaking, most civilians turned their attention to him instead and showed themselves more than willing to accept his help other than being brainwashed by the cultists just for some food. As Malkev began distributing food, Karina watched with the corner of her eye as one of the cultist thugs began walking towards Malkev before being stopped by the preacher. Sending both of them a cold, threatening stare, Karina kept looking at them, watching their every move almost as a way to warn them that she was already doing too much simply tolerating their presence.

When it was all finished, with the green, distorted sun beginning to rise above the horizon, Malkev mentioned on how he couldn't do that and how the cult would have their eyes on him after today.

"Hopefully, you won't need to worry for too much longer, Malkev." Karina said. It wasn't hard for him to realize that what she felt for the cult and the cultists was complete and utter disgust and hate. For her, they were a threat and had to be eliminated at all costs.

“I would hope otherwise.” Malkev said. “For if I’m not there to worry about my people, then who will?”

"You did a good job, Malkev. But one person alone can't hope to deal with the cult. Not as they are right now. They became too strong for a local force to deal with." Karina continued with a firm voice.

"I will need your cooperation when the time comes. Remember that stopping the cult is more important than everything right now. If they get stronger... Then I hope no one will be able to stop them... Or there will be no one left to oppose them after being brainwashed." She completed with a grim tone.

Malkev said nothing for a time. He looked to the ground as if troubled. “My place is with my people. I don’t have the luxury to leave them for war. Heck, I already have one war coming straight to my doorstep. The Watch was made to be there for our people. I can’t make any promises until all invaders have been dealt with. Once the cult is gone, and once I’ve found a way to turn back our other invaders… Maybe then we can talk.”

Malkev looked to Ferris. “And what of you, Crazed?” He said, while emphasizing the word ‘Crazed’. “What is your angle in all of this?”

Though he’d spent the last few minutes listening in, Ferris hadn’t planned on speaking, if only because he figured it’d irritate Malkev more. There also wasn’t much he could add since he had limited understanding of both Malkev and Karina’s situations, but now that Malkev had addressed him directly, he supposed he’d share his thoughts.

“Same as her. I’m here to stop the cult,” Ferris said, and he wasn’t lying. His current goals aligned perfectly with theirs, and they’d be the same if worded differently. As for his angle, that came after the cult was brought down, and though it was equally important to him, he hadn’t suddenly lost his patience. There was no reason he had to explain any of that, though, much less to Malkev. If there was someone he wasn’t expecting to win out of this, it was Malkev and his deep-seated distaste for regulated magic users.

Malkev eyed Ferris. ”Sounds very un-mercenary like.” He said, skeptically.

“There are things more important than gold,” Ferris replied evenly. Whatever Malkev concluded of that, Ferris didn’t mind.

Karina heard Malkev's words quietly, looking at him with a serious stare. It was obvious to her who were the 'invaders' he was talking about but it wasn't time for her to reveal her identity yet. Despite that, even if Malkev wanted, it was highly unlikely he would be able to resist the Military of Touch all by himself and it was equally unlikely he would cooperate or ask for the help of the cult.

"Sooner or later, Malkev, you will have to make a choice. I hope that when the time comes, you will make the correct one. You, better than anyone else should know that aiding or asking for the cult's help isn't an option." Karina replied.

After that, Malkev turned to Ferris, asking what was his thought in all of that. If it wasn't clear that Malkev and Ferris didn't like each other that much, the fact that Malkev referred to him as 'crazed' was another indication of that. Ferris' reply was short but simple. He saw the need to stop the cult, just as Karina did.

"Mercenary or not, he sees the potential danger that the cult poses to the entire world. He is making the correct choice." Karina said, agreeing with Ferris as he replied to Malkev's comment of his actions not being expected from a mercenary.

“With all due respect,” Malkev started, his tone beginning to turn to irritation. “you speak as though choices are black and white when in truth they tend to be more situational than that.”

“The Cult is dangerous. That much is certain. However you can’t just expect that to be enough to convince me to go on a war campaign with you. For one, how do I even know you are capable of winning such a war? You speak as though you have the means to fight these people and yet here you are stuck in this mess with me.”

“Two, I fail to see how going straight into another war will help my people. Look at the dead bodies piled up over there!” He said nodding toward a fly ridden alleyway covered with rotting corpses. “Dead from the day of madness. So many have already died just from that day alone and we still have yet to determine the damage it has done due to the chaos that’s followed. Factor in another war… well just imagine just how much worse things will get.”

“And three,” Malkev continued. He hesitated a moment, his hands balling up into fists. This last point seemed to have him troubled. The man looked ahead and took a deep breath to calm himself. “Even if I were to agree to help. If I were to agree to a campaign against the cult, you’re still ignoring the army at my doorstep.” He said. “With Lork O’Kal likely dead and my brother dead as well, I may be in line to be the next lord of Shimmer Town… However, none of that matters once the army of touch arrives.”

Malkev shook his head. “They will not keep me in charge once they take this town. They will make someone else Lord instead. Someone who will be more sympathetic to their cause. For me, it will be the gallows… Either that or chains. Given the choice, I would choose the former.”

When Malkev began, saying that he didn't even know if Karina had the means to go on a war campaign, he could only see a smug smirk coming from Karina. She was rather curious to see how he would react if he knew who she was...

"Do I have the means to do it? You would be surprised if you knew. Besides... The time to consider possible choices has passed, Malkev. You waited for too long. There are only two options now." she said with a chuckle.

"If you want for more bodies to keep piling up, then continue doing nothing. Waiting will only raise the body count and make things even harder when you finally understand that the cult needs to be dealt with. You saw how this town became with the cult. The kingdom itself is soon to follow with this administration..." Karina continued.

"You know why I'm coming to you to speak this to you even though I don't need to? Exactly due the position you're in right now. You are the only one who can make a difference and there's no better situation for that than now. When a bigger threat arises, people tend to forget things such as rivalries... and opportunities to prove one's skill and discernment are plenty. No matter where, a man with talent and discernment to make the right choices is always sought after and maybe... If you do the right choice, there might be someone important watching you..." Karina said that, looking at Malkev as she raised an eyebrow, analyzing the man's reactions.

"Now... I gave you enough information for you to start thinking about what you'll do. Of course, I still need to keep some secrets or else it would ruin the surprise, wouldn't it? That said... remember this: The world won't wait for you to decide yourself. Wait for too long and you might lose your one opportunity." Karina finished with a smile and a piercing stare.

"Oh, but don't take me too seriously. Those were just advice. What do I know? As you said, I'm just a helpless girl that got caught up in this mess, am I not? The least I can do is help you to patrol the town." she said with a smirk.

Malkev looked to Karina and frowned. “I never called you helpless, lass. I merely was emphasizing that you talk big without providing the substance needed to reassure me.”

Malkev looked back ahead. Their destination was approaching. “When the Kharu-Natjer came to me, he provided food, shelter, and the knowledge to hide from the cult. As far as I can tell, you only offer a collar and promises that something nice will happen if I am a ‘good boy’.”

Ferris watched the scene unfold quietly. Though the Being had briefed him on Karina’s family, they had said nothing of her goals. What she was hinting at now aligned with what he’d assumed of her goals before, and however much he disliked the veiled statements she taunted Malkev with, he accepted it as part of a political background. He’d heard many stories of the pompous life of those in power, and most of them had woven lies and intrigue in at some point. As such, he figured such things normal, endemic to those who regularly embroiled in politics.

Malkev’s reaction, though, told him that while the man was used to such politicking, he had no love for it. In another world, Ferris may have sympathized, or even gotten along with him. They were both soldiers at their core, more eager to fight than attempt to mince words. In this world, however, he had been judged as a Crazed, and he could not protest the label. It was as much Malkev’s right to judge him as it was his to judge Malkev for subscribing to such prejudices.

The group came to a stop as they reached their destination. Malkev sighed as he pulled out pay and handed it to Karina and Ferris. He looked to Karina as he handed the woman her share. “I may not know which important person you might be, but the fact that you are keeping your identity a secret from me gives alarm. I told you who I am, why won’t you tell me who you are?”

Karina looked at Malkev, raising an eyebrow as he spoke. They had finished the patrol and the man was already handing out the promised pay but not before speaking a bit of his mind. Which wasn't all that comforting, especially when he talked about the Kharu-Natjer.

"You should know more than anyone exactly the type of person the Kharu-Natjer is. Not exactly someone that you should be able to trust blindly, especially seeing the position you're in." Karina said, rolling her eyes. While it was true that the Kharu helped them, it was also true that their entire trust was based solely on the precarious situation they were in and it might as well end completely the second the situation changes too.

"Regarding who I am... I do have much more to lose than you do by revealing my identity, Malkev But I guess that could be a token of trust... If I'm trying to make you trust me, the least I could do is trusting you back." Karina spoke.

"That said... I will assume you will keep it a secret. Don't make a mistake breaking the trust I am putting in you, Malkev. I do have high expectations for you." Karina said, looking straight to his eyes.

"Karina Frost. Lieutenant Colonel Karina Frost." she said as she took the money from his hand.

"It is a pleasure to know you." Karina said with a smirk as she took the money from him.

Malkev’s eyes widened. “Karina Frost… As in General Frost’s daughter?” His surprise quickly vanished as the implications sank in. His eyes darted to Ferris and back, his expression quickly darkening.

“Well, it certainly seems like you started a war under false pretenses... but we all knew that, didn’t we?” Malkev said coolly. “If you’ll excuse me, I need time to think.” The man strode off moments later, leaving Ferris and Karina behind.

Malkev’s reaction was along what Ferris had expected, though he also wouldn’t have been surprised if the man stuck around to ask Karina more questions. Leaving, however, was the smarter decision since it’d give him time to cool off and come up with a proper response. It was the political move for someone not greatly versed in politics, and Ferris respected that.

“He’ll probably still like you more than me,” Ferris remarked when Malkev was properly out of earshot. Prejudices tended to run deep, and no matter what happened, it remained that a lieutenant colonel was more respectable than a mercenary.
Karina simply let Malkev walk away without saying anything more. She had already gave him the information she needed, now she just had to wait and see if he would make the correct choice... or not. He would need time to think but he honestly didn't have that many options... And Karina was sure to tell that to him.

"He might hate me even more than you when this all is over. He has no other choices and he knows this. He knows that I know it too. That's why I'm pressing him against the wall like this. He only needs time to think and realize that I am his best option if he wants to clean this mess." Karina said as Ferris mentioned him still liking her more than him, with a half smile and a confident expression.

"Assuming he won’t do anything foolish, of course.” Karina finished. It was unlikely that Malkev would make a choice based on his emotions or a foolish choice. From what she saw from him, he was a wise man. It was the reason why she said she had high expectations of him.

Ferris nodded at her words. In the grand scheme of things, Malkev was a mere town commander trying to protect his town in a war between countries. Getting aid from Karina, be it in the form of her army’s assistance in combat or a mere word in his favor, was already more than he could hope for.

As for her remark that Malkev shouldn’t do anything foolish, Ferris paused for a second, reading the harmless remark for what it was from her calm tone and continued confidence. He agreed that Malkev seemed unlike the type to make hasty actions, but they also didn’t know Malkev that well. If there was any immediately recognizable flaw the general had, it was his prejudice and his tendency to allow it to show on his face and in his tone, which only went to show his lack of political expertise.

“As long as he doesn’t spread the information, he’ll likely play right into your palm,” Ferris commented as they started cleaning up the empty bags, the supplies already distributed. “I’m surprised the Kharu didn’t mention it to him, though. He seemed like he knew more than he was letting on.”

Karina didn't want to consider the idea that Malkev might spread the information, after all it was indeed quite a foolish thing to do since he would turn her, a potential ally, into an enemy but if he indeed did that, it could cause a lot of problems for her. It was still too soon for her identity to be discovered...

"It was a gamble. I won't say it's impossible but Malkev is smart. Too smart to do something that might turn me, a potential ally into an enemy... Or so I hope... If he indeed does that, it would cause problems for us both..." Karina replied.

"I don't trust the Kharu... Their support is but momentary and they seem to be exactly the type of person that would backstab someone if they saw benefit on it." she said with a worried expression.

Ferris nodded at her words. If Malkev turned on them, it would definitely cause problems, but he also agreed that Malkev didn’t seem the type to. As for the Kharu, Ferris agreed as well. Trusting someone at their word was rarely a good idea, and the Kharu had given them no indication of why he was helping them. Whether he seemed the type to backstab someone, though, Ferris couldn’t say. In his experience, anyone could backstab their allies, given enough of a reason to do so, and the people used to backstabbing others didn’t always have obvious tells.

“Whatever’s encouraging him to lend us aid for the moment, it doesn’t seem to have changed yet, so we can likely count on his help for a bit longer.” Ferris glanced at Malkev up ahead, frowning. “Whether or not we trust him, the Kharu is helping us right now, housing and connecting us to Malkev and the guard. I wouldn’t stake my life on him, but in a way we’re indebted to him.”

"Indebted... Not a word I like to use. He's not doing it for free. He has his own interests in mind, even if we don't know what they are right now." Karina replied.

"The enemy of my enemy is my friend, for now. I wouldn't stake my life on them either." Karina sair as she looked at ferris nodding towards him as she agreed with his words.

It was true that the Kharu was aiding them but as she said before, he had his motivations to do so. Even if they didn't know exactly what those motivations were.

"We should probably go as well. We're done aiding the patrol and it's not like there's anything left for us to do here." she finished.

When Karina pointed out that the Kharu was likely operating for his own benefit, Ferris wondered whether he should’ve clarified his point, but he decided against it. At the end of the day, he’d merely been stating the obvious, and she had a point too: They had no way of knowing how and to what extent the Kharu was benefiting from helping them. Perhaps they were merely additional chess pieces in the fight against the cult, or perhaps it was something more.

At her suggestion that they get going, he nodded. “Agreed. They look about done,” he said, looking to Malkev, who appeared to be dismissing soldiers up ahead. “I suppose we achieved our original goals for wanting to join this patrol, at least. I’ll see you around then.”

With that, they dispersed with the patrol, Ferris heading to his quarters to retrieve his hat and scarf. The wind on his face and hair wasn’t something familiar at this point, and he’d had enough of that for one morning.