“Good people of Leongarde. By the just jurisdiction of High Priest Florentius we stand here today to sentence these abominable beings back to the corruption they came from. Magic taints their Soul and thus their connection to the Mother. Was it not said that they by their blasphemous acts tore apart the Weaver’s Tapestry of Splendour and Creation?" The Magistrate allowed the crowds to utter their grievances, to jeer and boo as they had always done before.
"Was it not Magic that Sundered our World and cost the lives of countless innocents? Yet, whilst we the good people of Leongarde set up laws so they may be useful and secure they flaunt our own laws by trying to remain hidden.
To not be checked and guarded.
So far has the corruption of magic twisted their minds that they planned a coup on the High Castle itself!”
Shocks and gasps rose from the crowds as the crowd responded to what happened next. The soldiers set up one the prisoners onto the block of punishment. It was a middle aged man, with poor attire, looking more like a tradesman or farmer than anything dangerous.
Sorsha's heart sank, as she recognised him. Closing her eyes in an attempt to wish it all away.
“As you all know how dangerous these magic users are, the good High Priest has ordained me with the task of punishment and safeguarding the good city of Avelore.”
The cries for justice grew louder, making her head spin and want to scream, but her voice seemed to be smothered, her cruel lips never moving despite her own will.
She felt her world turn into one of nightmarish horrors...the figures she had known so well, contorted, distorted, turning into dark clumps of flesh as the fire consumed them.
So hot...she could barely breathe...
With a gasp she jolted awake, bathed in sweat, feeling their eyes still on her.
Eventhough many years had passed she still had nightmares of the event.
Their souls would haunt her and she couldn't shake the feeling they would torment her forever.
Wiping the sweat off her brow she thrust the blanket off of her, seeing the golden rays of the morning sun peek through the curtains.
Time to get up and get ready.
Her work was waiting for her...

The walls shook with the clamour of battle as Corvo Leonis dashed through the halls of the royal palace, his footsteps echoing urgently upon the flagstones. The artificial muscle fibres of his nerve suit whirred loudly as they worked to accommodate his movements, accelerating as quickly as possible without breaking limbs, but the prince could be transformed into a bolt of lightning and it would still not be enough. The enemy was here! Saboteurs had cut off all power to the palace minutes ago, communications were down and there was not enough time to send a runner, he had to warn them himself. Had to reach his parents before it was too late!

Breathing hard, Corvo turned a corner and passed by his study room, door still hanging ajar from when he left after hearing news of the invasion earlier. To think that the Vaimese Empire would dare to attack the Kingdom of Belisio so brazenly... to think they would do so with such ease. It had not even been a full day yet since they crossed the border and smashed their way through the Hearthguard, cutting apart its most elite warriors. Whether it was the Crimson Rider's Vanguard Battalion or the infamous Shooting Stars, all the Knights and Battlemages of the kingdom could not so much as halt the Empire's advance, and now they were here within the very heart of Olysium, the shining jewel of the skies.

Approaching the end of the hall, Corvo sensed a lull in the cannon fire and risked a glance outside the windows, only to see the guns of every enemy warship suddenly turn towards the palace. Towards its towers. With the horror of realization dawning upon him, the prince skidded to a halt and lifted a hand towards the window, reaching out feebly as if to stop what was about to happen. "No..." he had time to whisper before the guns bloomed to life and the walls came tumbling down in a shower of death.

"NO!" Corvo screamed again as he woke up in bed, wide eyed and panic stricken. Breathing rapidly, he looked around his quarters and upon realizing where he was, his panic gradually turned to grief as he slowly sat up and wiped away the tears welling up in his eyes. How long had it been since that night, a day? A week? It mattered not for the fact remained that the city had fallen and both his parents, the king and queen, were gone.

What was it all for? the prince-in-exile wondered as he looked out the window, watching a sea of clouds pass by as the vessel he was travelling in flew on. Sky and water?

The more Corvo thought about it, the more it filled him with anger and when he remembered reaching out pathetically towards the enemy warships, he looked down at his hand and balled it so tightly that the nails dug into his palm. Then with a deep breath, he channelled all his rage and frustration into his fist and let it all out as he exhaled.

One of these days, the prince thought with dreadful calmness. I will paint the skies red with Vaimese blood.

Until then however, today was a new dawn.
Time to get up and get ready.
His work was waiting for him...

Gerhardt had risen earlier, it had been an arduous journey up until this point, but praise the heavens they had succeeded to escape Belisio.
It had been something that he had been dreading for months.
Vaim and their eternal hunger for conquest. For resources. For revenge.
Eager to prove to the world that they had not been defeated, but merely had been stalled.
That it had only been a matter of time.
And what better way to prove this, then to cut down the very Kingdom that had been there at the beginning. The one instrumental in forging the alliance, in rallying the smaller nations to their cause and halt the most terrifying Empire that had been.
Gerhardt sighed as he leaned over the railing of the vessel they were currently sailing on. There wasn’t much too see today. Dark grey clouds rolled past, setting the mood quite nicely.
He had failed them.
Despite his network he had failed in warning the King and Queen in time. Oh he was sure his old friend had attempted to buy them enough time, but in the end it all had been for naught.
Had it not been for sheer dumb luck Vaim would have successfully exterminated the Belisian royal line and half of the court.
Praise the heavens the boy had been out. Praise the heavens he had found him amidst the chaos of the sacking.
His bandaged hand moved up to pinch the bridge of his nose, before his thoughts drifted back to that day. It had all gone by in a blur, one moment he still had everything and the next all of it had been blown to pieces. Scattered in the wind.
Like Ashes.

He heard one of the crew call out to his fellows, making Gerhardt raise himself from his dark memories and raise his eyes upon the horizon.
As the dark clouds parted and lifted, clearing their view, a new place had become visible.
Its thin towers rising towards the heavens and it deepened Gerhardt’s frown.
It had not been his first choice.
Hell it was safe to say he had preferred any other nation above the one before him. But fate it seemed likes to play cruel games.
He hadn’t been given much of a choice though.
The Lightning Runner had been in for some minor repairs and some simple cargo delivering nothing too special. Still, it had been a blessing to sail away from a besieged country.
Now they had reached the other side.
A land with different rules and different people.
Leongarde.
As a cry of relief went through the crew Gerhardt had felt only trepidation.
Leongarde was a nation ruled by Faith.
Here Priests and Magistrates swung the sceptre and their knights kept the order. The priests were practically considered nobility and indeed most of them were of noble blood.
Knowledge was kept by the powerful, after all you don’t teach peasants to read, they could get all sorts of wild notions of equality and rebellion.
No too much knowledge was a sin.
Better to keep them poor and stupid.
They were far easier to rule that way.
The compliant were praised and the ‘problems’ were ‘dealt with’.
It almost made Gerhardt smile wryly if the punishments had not been so severe.
How this place managed to keep itself together was beyond him, stepping a toe out of line could earn you a proper public lashing say nothing of the poor souls that were gifted with magic.
He shook his head in disapproval and dismay knowing the horrors far too well.
Still for now it would be their new home.
Heavens have mercy on them. He tore himself away from the bough and made his way down below. It was time to wake up his charge and set a few new ground rules.
They had to be careful, despite Leongarde’s hatred for Vaim, they had little love for them either. Hence why it was better to be careful, especially in the beginning. They needed to remain invisible for as long as they could before they had the approval of the priests.
Getting a Seal of admittance was no easy feat, not even for a refugee crown prince.
As Gerhardt made his way to their cabin he was about to knock when the door opened on its own.
“Good you’re awake.” He spoke pushing the young man back inside. “We’re approaching Leongarde’s port city and before you go topside it is best if we lay down some ground rules regarding our behaviour and our new identities.” He said noticing the young man’s paleness.
“The dream again?” He asked as he walked over to the small table they had in their cabin. Upon it stood a bottle filled with a powerful herbal concoction. The kind that scorched your throat and murdered one’s liver. He poured two fingers for the both of them before handing one of the pewter cups to the young prince, whilst swirling his own.
“You’ll need this. It’ll soothe your nerves and it might inundate you to the sights and smells you could be confronted with.” He warned him as he handed him the cup.
“Here some Brenwyn. Don’t expect your father’s Dulce Reina, most commoners would have to work a year to be able to afford a bottle of that stuff. Most people don’t live so lavishly as you’ll see. Neither will we…”
“Remember, your easy days in the palace are over. You’ve been shielded, kept away from some of the true horrors of life. Atrocities that other people have to face every day. Don’t be surprised if you see harlots and whores doing ‘streetwork’ or watch ‘a scolding’ and no I don’t mean they’re exchanging just words with that.
Your father’s kingdom was a paradise in comparison with what the people experience and suffer here. Desperation and poverty does that to people. Though the wealthy and just wealthy enough pretend to not associate with the lower layers of society, they frequent those corners far more often than they like to admit.
They might claim to be the most devout, but for all their piety they are far from holy. I know this isn’t the place we both wanted to go, but for now we have no other choice.
You’ll also no longer be introduced as the crown-prince.
We might explore our options there once we’ve attained a Seal and when we have acquired some allies. Still best not to shout ‘here we are’ to the rest of the world.” Gerhardt explained to him before he raised his cup once more and downed the contents in one go.
He winced, hissed and slowly released a pressured breath, staring at the bottom of his cup before resuming the same fatherly tone once more.
“You’ll be my nephew from this point on. If anyone asks what we do we’re hirelings, sellswords. We’re our own masters and attempting the climb into the ranks of the Faithful Guard. Make up a new name for yourself for now. Something simple, nothing to fanciful.” Another heavy breath followed as his eyes narrowed seriously, staring at the young prince.
“And lastly; Don’t fall in love. It has ruined better men than you.” He ended. “Now, pack your things and if you’re ready, let’s go topside and watch them dock.

As he moved to open the door, Corvo glanced towards the mirror upon the wall and paused as he noticed the sheen of sweat covering his face. Luckily there were no stains showing through his white linen shirt or trousers, but his dark wavy hair was slightly damp and somewhat tousled from unrest. Exiled or not, it simply would not do to appear in such a manner and lacking any towels or rags, save for the tattered black cloak and unsealed nerve suit stowed beneath the bed, Corvo made do with the sleeve of his white linen shirt and made combs of his fingers as he ran them through his hair, parting loose strands away from his oak brown eyes.

Satisfied, he opened to door only to see someone already standing outside with arm raised to knock. Corvo gave a start until he recognized the spymaster, Gerhardt, the man who had saved his life and secured the vessel they were now travelling upon. Before he could speak a single word however, the spymaster took the initiative and wasted no time with greetings.

“Good you’re awake,” he spoke pushing the young man back inside. “We’re approaching Leongarde’s port city and before you go topside it is best if we lay down some ground rules regarding our behaviour and our new identities.”

"Ah... yes. I suppose that would be best," Corvo replied as he glanced at the mirror again, wondering if he should change his appearance somehow. Perhaps with a haircut or worn in a different style. No doubt the spymaster would suggest as much at some point, but for now simply being without crown or regalia seemed to suffice.

“The dream again?” Gerhardt asked as he entered the room, noticing the young man's paleness.

Curses, Corvo thought as he replied in a meagre attempt at joviality, "What gave it away?"

As if in answer, the spymaster walked over to a small table whereupon stood a bottle filled with a powerful herbal concoction. The kind that scorched your throat and murdered one’s liver. He poured two fingers for the both of them before handing one of the pewter cups to the young prince, whilst swirling his own.

“You’ll need this. It’ll soothe your nerves and it might inundate you to the sights and smells you could be confronted with,” he warned him as he handed him the cup. “Here some Brenwyn. Don’t expect your father’s Dulce Reina, most commoners would have to work a year to be able to afford a bottle of that stuff. Most people don’t live so lavishly as you’ll see. Neither will we…”

"Just what are you insinuating exactly?" Corvo asked as he took the cup, not sure whether he liked where this conversation was going.

“Remember, your easy days in the palace are over. You’ve been shielded, kept away from some of the true horrors of life. Atrocities that other people have to face every day. Don’t be surprised if you see harlots and whores doing ‘streetwork’ or watch ‘a scolding’ and no I don’t mean they’re exchanging just words with that.
Your father’s kingdom was a paradise in comparison with what the people experience and suffer here. Desperation and poverty does that to people. Though the wealthy and just wealthy enough pretend to not associate with the lower layers of society, they frequent those corners far more often than they like to admit.
They might claim to be the most devout, but for all their piety they are far from holy. I know this isn’t the place we both wanted to go, but for now we have no other choice.
You’ll also no longer be introduced as the crown-prince.
We might explore our options there once we’ve attained a Seal and when we have acquired some allies. Still best not to shout ‘here we are’ to the rest of the world.” Gerhardt explained to him before he raised his cup once more and downed the contents in one go.

Corvo gave no answer except to raise his own cup and take a single desultory sip. He seldom enjoyed lectures, much less those accompanied by some truly foul tasting liquor. Gaia's mercy! What was in this stuff?

“You’ll be my nephew from this point on. If anyone asks what we do we’re hirelings, sellswords. We’re our own masters and attempting the climb into the ranks of the Faithful Guard. Make up a new name for yourself for now. Something simple, nothing to fanciful.” Another heavy breath followed as his eyes narrowed seriously, staring at the young prince.
“And lastly; Don’t fall in love. It has ruined better men than you.” He ended. “Now, pack your things and if you’re ready, let’s go topside and watch them dock.”

"What do you take me for?" Corvo scoffed as he set his cup of Brenwyn down, unfinished. "After everything that's happened, nothing could be further from my mind. In any case, allow me a moment to get dressed... and call me Duncan."

"What gave it away?" Gerhardt mysteriously smiled at that question, before he genuinely answered.
"Young folks such as yourself have an air of honesty about them. Even if you would lie I'd still be able to smiff out the truth from your demeanor and actions." He answered. "Masking one's feelings is not something everyone can do. Many attempt at it, some bluff their way through and others attempt to divert the attention away from it, but truly masking one's self is rare.
The best at it are the magicians, sure to the common eye they perform simple parlor tricks that when the trick is explained, the magic and mystery is broken.
What they don't see is half of that trick. The perfectioning of movement, the stillness of one's expression to not give away the truth of the matter. Routine. To live one's craft and to become the act."
He continued his prepared talk, knowing the young brash prince would need it.
They were far from the safety and familiar walls of his Kingdom.
He took in the young prince's responses, knowing full well the displeasure some of his words caused. Still, play time was over. He had to grow up and become the man he was destined to be or Belisio would suffer even longer.
Gerhardt sighed.
Uilles had always been better at this. The old Knight had always managed to garner respect and favour by just showing up.
Sometimes Gerhardt had thought it quite unfair.
Especially knowing what the young prince's intentions had been.
Uilles would have been a better mentor than he.
Still, no use going back to burned down bridges, not when it was time to move forward.
The boy's immediate retaliation made Gerhardt think he'd hit a nerve somewhere.

"What do you take me for?" Corvo scoffed as he set his cup of Brenwyn down, unfinished. "After everything that's happened, nothing could be further from my mind. In any case, allow me a moment to get dressed... and call me Duncan."
Gerhardt turned his eyes on him again.
"I take you for a young man in his prime. You have urges just like the rest of us, to procclaim otherwise would truly be foolhardy and stupid. Consider it merely a friendly warning and reminder, Duncan. Many a strong and loyal heart have fallen the moment they met the 'right' pair of 'fine eyes'. Just know that should you want company, you'd better pay for it. That way it is strictly business and you can be assured he or she is only interested in your coin."

Leongarde’s closest harbour lay before them.
They could see the sailors work quickly to set the fins and side sails back and tie them up as they sailed towards the underbelly of the city.
In order to reach the harbour they had to sail into the opening within the rock.
This would lead them to the harbour that lay within, in a large cavern that opened up and brought them to the underlayer of the city.
There it would dock and they would be able to step off.
The dark rough stone opened up for them and as they sailed into the opening swallowed them whole, floating on the current within and the smooth movement of the tail-fan sail, which gentle movements offered them a soft thrust, allowing them to glide in with care.
The place seemed dark, damp and cold, but was lit partially by Sinderdust that lined the walls with wonderous glowing veins, as if they entered a living breathing creature.
From afar they could discern a the hint of a gentle drum, continuous and repetitive, before other differently coloured lights filled the tunnel as it widened and showed the crystal roof above them, almost like a glass ceiling of sorts. Then the doors of Avelore doomed up out of the darkness.
Two massive stone slabs that opened before them, groaning, complaining as the mechanism that was involved was put to work again. From the side the could hear the cracking of a whip, beating some unfortunate as they sailed out of the cavern and into the open harbour before them. The docks stretching out around them, in a circle, giving access to the underlayer of the city and the stairs to the higher levels.
The Harbour and the undercity was very much that, dark grimy alleyways and streets made up out of miners, water trackers and mist harvesters homes.
The sailors, women of low repute and prize fighters would drop in on alehouses and seedy taverns. Other lesser professions that were very much needed, but weren’t allowed to be noticed were leather tanners, dyers, slave houses & houses of pleasure.
Naturally there was a more refined part of the harbour, that’s where the rich went, it was named ‘the Pavilion’ and it was heavily guarded and very selective on who they allowed to enter. It also was run by the one of the most ruthless criminal groups to ‘serve’ the city.
If you looked further you could see young priests proselytised the mercy of the mother, being ignored by almost all whilst in an alleyway around the corner some cheeky little whore sucked the life out of a very content customer.
All in all the Harbour told anyone who paid attention that those living there were dealt a bad hand in life.
Their lives were harsh, where most of the earnings would be spend on forbidden pleasures and drink to drown their misery and aches in.
It also was clear by the few elderly moving about, that these people died young.

The Stairs brought one to groundlevel of the City. It was set up like a large flower, with certain sections of the city only capable to be reached by the bridges that connected them to the large centre.
It was also known as the Twelve Gates.
Once there had actually been Twelve Gates, but time and restructuring the city lead to some of them being torn down to make room for houses or the space was used in a different manner.
Regardless the name stuck.
An Abreviation of the longer 11 Roads and Twelve Gates.
The gates were truly nothing too special, some practically crumbled by looking at them. Others were well maintained and heavily manned.
But the grand market was set up in the central section. It was where rich and poor intermingled, at the different stalls all sorts of wares were sold, even those of the flesh.
It wasn’t uncommon for the houses of the pleasure district to ‘advertise’ at the market. The fairest, youngest and prettiest ‘flowers’ were send up flirting and leaving ribbons with the name of the House in the pockets of the lusting.
For slaves there was a different market, one more hidden from public view in as while slavery was still frowned upon, it was also regarded as common. They basically were of the opinion that things were fine if you didn’t pry too deeply.
People from all ages were sold here, some willingly went in, others were taken. Once branded, there was little one could do to escape one’s fate.

Not that the poor had it any better. Their district was one of small drafty rooms with walls that were paper thin. Still the promise that everyone had a chance to change their fate offered the people a sliver of hope and they clung to that with all their might.

The rich lived lavishly, in grand houses in a well guarded part of the clockwork city. They had carriers and runners taking them from place to place or employed their own. Their feet never needed to walk more than was necessary and spend their free time in the Gardens or the Lillypond.
The Lillypond; was known as the pleasure district. Gambling houses, drinking establishments for those with money, the theatre, Fencing hall and of course the Courtesans lived here.
Under the shadow of the very place that had once condemned them, the High Castle, a building so large and imposing that it reached into the heavens.

"Yes, yes, whatever you say, Uncle," Corvo replied, approaching his bed as he waved off the spymaster. "Just so you know, if we're to be sellswords then it would help to have a sword to sell. I'd not the time to find one whilst fleeing for our lives."

No doubt Gerhardt had already taken such things into account, but the young prince chose to be flippant anyway for his own sake. Anything to take his mind off that damn nightmare and feel normal, if only for a moment... Anything except for a cup of Brenwyn apparently.

Crouching down beside his bed, Corvo retrieved his nerve suit and began the cumbersome process of donning it. Simply putting it on was easy enough, being somewhat akin to a weighted jumpsuit with the top and bottom half attached to a hinged brace in the middle, but once the brace was clasped shut and the suit was activated, it took a moment for its haptic sensors to read the wearer's form so that it may tighten and seal itself without crushing the flesh within.

The artificial muscle fibres creaked as they contracted over Corvo's body, pulling tighter and tighter to the point of constricting his breathing before gradually letting go, releasing pressure to an acceptable level. It never failed to prove an uncomfortable experience, but better uncomfortable than unguarded. Without any additional armaments, the suit would have to serve as armour and weapon both. Then there was the matter of his newfound ki ability, though it was yet too raw to be relied upon. Fortunately however, Corvo had been trained in all manner of martial arts, armed and unarmed, under the tutelage of the Knight Commander himself, Chisom Balthair. The most fearsome warrior he had ever known.

Was the Black Bull still alive somehow? Were any of them? The Crimson Rider, the Silver Spider, Uilles, the Shooting Stars, were any of Belisio's worthies still out there somewhere, carrying on the fight? These thoughts raced through Corvo's mind as he flexed his limbs, testing the suit's movements. If only there was some way of knowing, perhaps through some clandestine channel or a rallying broadcast. All in due time of course, but for now... Leongarde.

Finally satisfied with the suit's performance, Corvo donned his black travelling cloak and climbed the stairs out of the cabin topside to see the Priestdom itself. So this was Avelore.

Gerhardt shook his head at the flippant response, but figured the boy would learn in time. For now he had other priorities to focus upon. He still had some contacts here, so with some luck they wouldn’t have to start completely from scratch, but neither would it be easy.
The High Priest wasn’t a particularly persuasive man and quite frankly as cold as the masks he was wearing.
His thoughts drifted off as their ship sailed into the harbour and docked, shaking him away from his past for the time being.
He wondered whether it still was there.
Whether anything had changed at all or and whether his actions so long ago had at least offered the suffering some reprieve.
He released a heavy sigh, not even remembering taking and holding his breath in the first place before he nodded to the prince and moved to disembark.
Clad in wool and leathers he stretched his back for a moment as he enjoyed the feeling of standing on steady dry land again.
Still he merely took a couple of glances around before setting off to the stairs.
“Stay close and don’t wander off…” He said as he smoothly moved up the step, leaving the clammy darkness of the Harbour and stepping into the light.
Before them lay a gigantic open street filled with vendors.
“Welcome Duncan to the Grand Market.” He said with a soft chuckle knowing that even Belisio’s market would pale in comparison to the large unending street as there was no end to it; it being circular.
All sorts of people shouting and moving about with their wares. Litters, Palanquins and small Phaetons were easily capable of moving about. The people again were a mix of rich and poor, though the rich didn’t really interact with those lesser than them, they had people to do that for them.
Mostly well dressed servants negotiated whilst their masters lounged leisurely.
Every once in a while you crossed a couple of guards, wearing distinct uniforms, but there also were a lot of ‘sellswords’ free roaming warriors who would fight for gold or glory.
As Gerhardt moved around the different sights and smells danced about, part revulsion, part intoxication and above all most of it exotic.
Street artists also performed their craft, juggling knives, swallowing blades and spitting fire about to entertain the crowds.
Rest for a moment and you would be caught by one of the eager maidens, who seized every opportunity to lure in new clientele, even if those of the cloth.
As Gerhardt passed them he noticed the nervous and worry stricken expression as the young woman practically climbed into his lap. He was quick enough to dodge the other girl, but Corvo wouldn’t be so lucky.
Seeing Gerhardt easily sidestepped her, she immediately sought another victim and the poor prince was right in her line of sight.
A smile curled around her painted lips and unlike Gerhardt, she wouldn’t allow the young one to side step her.
“Well hello young master…” Her hoarse voice whispered as blocked his line of sight.
“New in town? Let me show you a good time, this city has much to offer to someone…as virile as you.” She said practically draping herself all over his armour.
“I could make your stay worthwhile, you would never wish for anything for your pleasure is my forte.” She lips practically breathed on his skin as her eyes tried to lock him down. Ensnare him and strip away his defiance.
She was about to offer him a free shot of Mira’s Madness, when they were interrupted and forced to make room.
It was a procession, a parade to celebrate the newest Courtesan. An announcer walked in front to announce to the city the newest desire in the Lilypond.
Behind him followed a man with a gong and 6 men, two to throw down blossom petals for her to step on, two that held up lamps naming the specific House of Desire and two that held a sun and rain cover, shading the beauty from the element and adding more prestige to the already spectacular walk.
She walked underneath the cloth roof in what could only be described as the finest silks and satins, her hair and make up donned to perfection and her head held high with both dignity and grace.
Behind her followed the other two roof bearers, as well as a set of guards belonging to the house. Finally there followed the last two, one lamp bearer and one ‘gift giver’ who would offer small blessings as a token from the Courtesan’s character.
In this case it was actual money, small alms, but generosity nevertheless.
Sorsha noticed Corvo for a moment and halted, stopping the procession for a moment, a highly unusual thing to do.
The guards immediately tensed up and the crowd stepped aside as she approached.
She glanced at the girl who held a glare of contempt for her.
Which Sorsha answered with her special smile.
“I think not that he is receptive to your touches Azheera.” She spoke her voice light and soothing, like fresh spring water.
A snort full of disdain followed as the girl let go, removing any hold of him she had, knowing she had little chance against a proper Courtesan.
Sorsha’s eyes wandered to the prince, taking him in for a moment before she mysteriously smiled.
“You’re welcome…” The gentlest whispered graced his ears as she turned and to return to her parade. The procession once more started and the crier once again shouted.
“Behold the Emberflame of the City! Semantine! Behold her a gentle fire of beauty and passion.”

Leaving the Lightning Runner behind and paying no heed to the curious stares of the dockworkers, Corvo followed as Gerhardt led the way through the Harbour. The spymaster seemed to move as though he had been here a hundred times before, which he very well might have owing to the nature of his role as a spymaster. Though for what reason or business of state, Corvo could only imagine. He was not privy to such information nor did he have any inclination to learn it before. This, he realized, was something that needed to change if he was to reclaim his kingdom one day, but for now all he could do was allow himself to be led around like a dog on a leash.

"Stay close and don’t wander off," Gerhardt said as he began ascending the steps up to the city proper.

"I am not a child," Corvo replied indignantly as he followed, leaving the clammy darkness of the Harbour and stepping into the light.

Then they entered through the gates and before them lay a gigantic open street filled with vendors and all sorts of people shouting and moving about with their wares. Litters, palanquins and phaetons rolled along amidst the crowd, and every once in a while there were a couple of guards walking by on patrol, wearing distinct uniforms, but there also were a lot of striders and sellswords, free roaming warriors who would fight for gold or glory.

“Welcome Duncan to the Grand Market,” Gerhardt said with a soft chuckle.

"Yes, grand is apt," Corvo agreed. Grand, gaudy and... utterly alien. It was as though they had been transported to a different world entirely. One without the hum of shuttlecraft engines flying overhead or any sight of water beyond the gates to the Harbour, so high stood the walls around it. In place of sleek skyscrapers, there were gargantuan palace sized houses surrounded by innumerable smaller structures and then there was the High Castle itself, utterly dwarfing all else around it and turning day to night wherever its shadow was cast. It was as though the entire city was one great monument to the very idea of extravagance. Was this what the Priestdom was like even before the breaking of the world?

As Corvo looked around trying to take it all in, his thoughts were interrupted by a young woman stepping directly in front of him. "Well hello young master..." her hoarse voice whispered as she blocked his line of sight. "New in town? Let me show you a good time, this city has much to offer to someone... as virile as you."

"Let go of me," Corvo demanded, affronted by the woman's brazenness as she draped herself over his arm. Even during his sojourns to the city night life of Olysium, travelling incognito with fellow youths and companions, no one had ever approached him in such a brash manner before.

“I could make your stay worthwhile, you would never wish for anything for your pleasure is my forte.”

Her lips breathed on his skin as her eyes tried to lock him down. Ensnare him and strip away his defiance. This only served to further irritate the prince however and he was about to push her away when they were interrupted and forced to make room. It was a procession, a parade to celebrate the newest Courtesan. Yet another thing unlike Olysium where its own red light districts were far less conspicuous.

What fresh hell is this? Corvo wondered as he watched the procession go by, but then the Courtesan looked his way and the moment their eyes met, he had forgotten all about the girl hanging on his arm. Fiery red hair, sultry green eyes, head held high and walking tall like a proud noblewoman, refined and statuesque... she was a looker for sure.

Then her eyes shifted to the other girl who returned a glare of contempt and the Courtesan spoke, her voice light and soothing like fresh spring water, "I think not that he is receptive to your touches Azheera."

A snort full of disdain followed as the girl let go of Corvo's arm, clearly outmatched in this exchange. Then the Courtesan's eyes returned to the prince, taking him in for a moment before she mysteriously smiled.

"You’re welcome..." the gentlest whisper graced his ears as she turned and went back to her parade.

The procession once more started and the crier once again shouted, “Behold the Emberflame of the City! Semantine! Behold her a gentle fire of beauty and passion.”

"Um..." was the only response Corvo could muster as he stared after the Courtesan for a moment longer before turning towards Gerhardt. "What were we doing here again?"

Gerhardt had walked in a brisk pace ahead, only to cast a glance around and see his young charge already swarmed by trouble, yet kept his distance as the spymaster side of him argued that the young prince would have to learn how to deal with ‘certain’ elements of the city, the sooner the better, so bigger mistakes could be avoided in the future.
He just hoped that this wouldn’t backfire on him.
What he hadn’t counted on was that the procession that normally continued its walk of fame stoicly was called to a halt upon actions of the newest celebration herself.
Unheard of.
Not within the bounds of tradition or of common sense, so Gerhardt kept a curious glance at her as she with the barest of words managed the situation.
True Courtesan power.
As she turned around again to join the procession Gerhardt got a good look of her face, it was no wonder she held an almost divine beauty. One that would be highly sought after.
As the procession moved on he closed the distance with the prince as he watched Corvo stare after her. "Um..." was the only response Corvo could muster as he stared after the Courtesan for a moment longer before turning towards Gerhardt. "What were we doing here again?"
Gerhardt had a hard time hiding his knowing smile, as he had been young once too. His own response then was somewhat similar to the prince’s immediate befuddlement after the encounter.
Such was the way of the beautiful Lilies.
“We are here to get back on our feet again.” He reminded him. “Come on it is not far to Zathre’s house. With some luck we’ll be able to save you from selling of one of your kidney’s to spend a night with her.” He joked as he grabbed the young man by the shoulder and pushed him past most of the other stalls until they were out of the more ‘grabby’ section of the market.
It was a strange mishmash of peoples, yet it all seemed to operate rather well. The coin there flowed richly and as such those that could afford the market tax were settled up to receive the rich and poor.
When they finally reached the other side of the loop they crossed on of the stairway bridges.
These connected some of the different sections of the city and lead them to a large manned gate.
Hill Point it was called as the houses were build in a maze upon a hill, the streets tilted and offered them a view of a steady climb, though nothing too extensive.
Gerhardt seemed to know where he had to go, though every once in a while he stopped and touched the walls, only briefly and for a moment, before he continued on his way again.
Through a labyrinth of small streets and passing over small courtyards connecting several poorer sections. He stopped finally in front of a tall stone building that was smacked in the middle of several other broader houses.
It was hidden away behind a wooden wall that fenced off a small inner court and was partially plastered with posters and noticed of different varieties.
Gerhardt easily found the hidden latch on the wooden wall and opened it for Corvo.
Instantly the view of the busy outside world shifted to a more mundane setting.
A elderly woman was busy hanging up freshly washed linens and clothes on the lines that were set up to run to from the wooden wall to the building as a scrawny little scarecrow of a boy read out one of the letters and propaganda pieces the city spread to a hunched over figure that rested in the sun against the wall of the building
With only the merest glance you’d be able to see the man was blind and probably older than Father Time, his walking staff resting on his legs, which he had folded, sitting as upright as he could.
He smiled wistfully as he continued to listen to the young boy attempting to read without making mistakes.
Gerhardt sighed with relief.
It seemed nothing had changed. All seemed to be well.
As he walked up to the boy and old man the young boy stopped looking at him in worry and suspicion.
“Is the master home?” He asked calmly.
“Who wants to know?” The boy barked back in defiance, before his fears were eased by the old man at his side.
“It is alright Rudi. We can continue reading it later.”
The boy gave the old man a wavering look for a moment before he nodded and put the papers away, before hurrying off into the house.
Gerhardt noticed the smile of the man broaden, before he realized too late what it meant.
Instantly his feet were mowed down from underneath him.
The ’frail’ old man was far from frail.
“Still as arrogant as ever pup.” He replied as he put the staff upright so it could aid him standing up. All his bones complained, but the man’s smiling face didn’t betray an inch of pain.
“Haven’t we taught you nothing but discourtesy in all those years? Was Mrs. Bigsby’s gentle nature wasted on you?” He complained.
Gerhardt groaned as he got up again, dusting himself off.
“Still as quick as ever ‘old man’. He replied back. “I would have thought you would have died by now, but I see that was nothing but wishful thinking.”
This caused the man to laugh cynically.
“Ha, thought you’d get rid of me by outliving me? Have you truly stooped so low?”
Gerhardt shrugged.
“I figured Death would be the only one who would be willing to put up with you. But even he seems to spurn you, old man.”
“Don’t you old man me, pup. When the time comes I will leap into Death’s final embrace, but until that time arrives I’ll make sure I’ll stick around long enough to pester you and that no good brother of yours.”
“It is a generosity we don’t deserve.” Gerhardt replied with a smile.
“It is good to see you Castille.”
“Likewise…btw who is the stray that you’ve brought?”
“I’ll explain everything when we’re inside.”
The old man sighed.
“It is that bad huh…”
Gerhardt nodded solemnly.
“I’m afraid it is.”
“Well, that’s a pity. Still, it was to be expected. Those old coots don’t let go. Say of Vaim what you will, but when it comes to taking vengeance they’re master of it as Revendahl came to discover…though with the way the Order has been acting the last decades, I suppose they could give them a run for their money.” The old man said darkly before he was interrupted by the arrival of the master.
The man cast one look at Gerhardt before he smiled and embraced him.
“Little brother!” He cried out jovially shaking him with the exuberance of someone barely able to contain their happiness.
“How long has it been since we’ve last seen your ugly mug? Twelve years?”
“Closer to 15.” Gerhardt replied back allowing the taller ‘little brother’ to manhandle him for a moment.
Owen Zathre was a tall handsome roguish man, that had had a couple of run ins with trouble.
Hence why he missed an eye and was ordained with several scars, still despite all that, his face was the equivalent of a God of old, his misty blue eye twinkled mischievously and his wide smile open and welcoming.
Had he worn less tattered clothes and slightly better gear he would have swept up all the women at court, with his demeanour and graces.
“18…by the heavens you look old!” He laughed.
“That would be from all worrying about the kingdom, much good did it do me in the end…” He said with a sigh.
His little brother nodded understandingly.
“I heard, I feared the worst. With the Capital gone there is no stable unity unifying the kingdom anymore. With the royals gone, who will the knights swear their loyalty to?”
“That remains to be seen…” He said casting a glance back at Corvo.
“We’ve come to ask refuge…I am sorry to spring this on you rather suddenly, but I figured we’d be safest here.” Gerhardt uttered.
Owen twinkle disappeared, his expression growing more serious and dark.
“You have it for now. I think I better hear the whole story inside. Come. Too many eager ears roam the streets these days.”
As they entered the rather narrow abode. It showed it was bigger inside than on the outside, deceptively so. As Owen offered the prince a chair stories were told over a mug of cheap ale and some dried meats.
When Gerhardt finally finished speaking he eyes his younger brother, who had leant back in contemplation.
“So we came to you, we need a seal of approval so we can stay in the city and attempt to offer the young prince some time to grow, in both skill and in allies.”
Owen sighed a heavy sigh rubbing his brow at that.
“Much of what was is gone, dear brother. Time are difficult. The merest inkling of a rebellion of any kind is crushed. If you’re going to do this, you’ll need to go up top to get their approval first before you can start recruiting and who is to say how long that will take? By the time you’re done Belisio will have ended under Vaim’s complete control, there will be nothing left for the Prince to rally. If I were the both of you I’d forget about this whole notion and start a new life. I’ll help you regardless of what you choose, but for the sake of your own skins, don’t raise your head up too high above the cornfield so to speak. You’ll be noticed by the Enders.”

Corvo offered no protest as Gerhardt guided him through the marketplace, but he cast a final glance towards the direction where the Courtesan went and found himself hoping that they might cross paths again. Focus, he chided himself as he shook his head and snapped his eyes forward. You're here for a purpose, not to play around. Try as he might however, the image of the fiery haired Courtesan still lingered in his mind's eye and no amount of shaking could banish her from sight. Her beauty seemed ill fit for a city of Leongarde, but then again there was already much Corvo had seen that was seemingly at odds with the Priestdom's reputation.

After arriving at an area known as Hill Point, Corvo once again felt as though he had arrived in some other far flung part of the world, away from the hustle and bustle of the marketplace and into a relatively quiet neighbourhood. Where the market had been vast and grandiose, this part of the city was full of narrow streets and labyrinthine passageways. Without Gerhardt leading the way, Corvo was quite certain that he'd become lost.

After a few meandering twists and turns, they had seemingly arrived at their destination when the spymaster stopped before a tall stone building standing behind a wooden wall, though it lacked an entrance... Or so it appeared anyway. As it turned out, the wall itself was the entrance and when Gerhardt found the hidden latch that allowed him to open it, Corvo couldn't help wondering what would necessitate such a deception and whether he should expect to see anything else of a similar nature. Who was this Zathre character exactly?

Stepping through into a small courtyard, Corvo looked around as he tried to guess which of the people gathered there was the one they were here to see. Surely not the old woman hanging up laundry on a clothesline or the little boy apparently learning how to read, which left the elderly man who seemed to be teaching him, sitting in the sun the with the appearance of a wise sage, staff and all. Corvo was on the verge of introducing himself before the spymaster asked, "Is the master home?"

So not the old man then. Still, Corvo was shocked to see Gerhardt suddenly fall as the old man swept his feet out from under him with his staff. Even more shocking however was seeing the spymaster completely unbothered by such a way of greeting and going on to speak with the old man with such warmth and familiarity that it made Corvo wonder whether they were related. He had never seen this side of Gerhardt before, ever the calculating man of focus serving at his father's side. As he conversed with the old man, apparently named Castille, it occurred to Corvo that he never really knew the spymaster that well at all despite seeing him for many years.

When the man they were here to meet finally appeared, it surprised Corvo even further to learn that this Owen Zathre was Gerhardt's own brother and even more roguish in appearance than the spymaster himself. As Owen invited them inside the house and Corvo sat upon the chair offered to him, he began to wonder if Gerhardt was ever truly Belisian in the first place or a native of Leongarde and if so, how did he come to serve the kingdom?

With an eye of suspicion, Corvo listened as Gerhardt finally came to their point of business while conversing with Zathre, "So we came to you, we need a seal of approval so we can stay in the city and attempt to offer the young prince some time to grow, in both skill and in allies."

Owen sighed a heavy sigh rubbing his brow at that.

"Much of what was is gone, dear brother. Time are difficult. The merest inkling of a rebellion of any kind is crushed. If you’re going to do this, you’ll need to go up top to get their approval first before you can start recruiting and who is to say how long that will take? By the time you’re done Belisio will have ended under Vaim’s complete control, there will be nothing left for the Prince to rally. If I were the both of you I’d forget about this whole notion and start a new life. I’ll help you regardless of what you choose, but for the sake of your own skins, don’t raise your head up too high above the cornfield so to speak. You’ll be noticed by the Enders."

"What are Enders?" Corvo asked, speaking for the first time since he arrived. "And why did Leongarde not come to our aid when we needed it most?"

Owen looked from Gerhardt to the young prince.
There was clear trepidation there. A certain unwillingness to divulge what he knew.
“Enders are the last thing you want to see, so don’t go and look for them.” He stated.
The grimace grew as a visible shiver ran across the man’s features.

“Leongarde chose to let Belisio fall, because the relationship between the two countries has been strained for quite some time. In their eyes Belisio had become nothing more than a bully, regardless of how we might feels about such matters.”
It was Gerhardt who spoke earning an incredulous look from Owen.
“He will have to know Owen, I don’t intend to mollycoddle him, he needs facts and the truth unvarnished.”
“He’s still your prince…”
“Aye, but he should also be able to defend himself or be tough enough to hear the truth of matter.” Gerhardt countered before he turned to the prince again.

“Your father has dealt quite a few blows to this priestdom. First by the wrecking of the Mist harvesters they had lying near our border. Internal sources claimed they were spies and your father had their wares seized, naturally causing the High Priest much grief and distress.
You know of the scarcity of water in our world, whilst Belisio has its own reserves Leongarde has far less, thus needing to mine and harvest more.
This is also made more difficult due to the fact that Leongarde hates mages. They’re truly second class citizens here. Most live in poverty or live like slaves, tortured by just existing, hated by all non mages.
Thus they rely on the Mist harvesters to perform their dangerous work. A job that hardly pays enough for the risks involved, unless they make a little on the side by catching lighting. Again something that is considered outlawed and heavily fined by Belisian authorities.” Gerhardt took a sip from his cup. “So when a rather nasty thorn in your side for years suddenly gets attacked by a better equipped Vaimese army what would you do?
Intervene? To come to the rescue of your bully? It was a wonder back then that Auriel chose to aide us in the Great War with the Sorcerer King at all.” He ended.
Owen sighed heavily, despairingly.
“You have grown even grimmer than before brother.” He complained.
“I have become accustomed to failure and to the short sightedness of people in general, sadly something ‘we commoners’ pay the price for.
Owen snorted.
“You’re not a lowly commoner, never were. Always had a mouth two sizes too clever for your peers and were old before you reached your 13th year.”
Gerhardt made no comment to that, but shifted his attention back to the young prince.
“Anyone specific you could suggest to commend our skills to?”
Owen pondered the question for a moment as he crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair.
“I currently work for Magistrate Tygren Connard, he is one of several Magistrates that try to keep the City in some state of order. You could try that. Simple guard’s work, but fairly steady pay and routines. Or you could dabble in those less…seen. Sicherwicker has been looking for ‘fresh faces’, especially in the mercenary line of work he is in, there’s great risk and great reward with his jobs.
Or you’d go prize fighter. They opened the Sandpit and always have an opening for young talent, prestige, power and riches come more easily with that.” Owen named thinking aloud.
“As long as you survive. The chances of dying are as good as certain with all the fighters and beasts they throw down there for to fight for the amusement of others.” Gerhardt added before sighing deeply.
“The Magistrate sounds like a good place to start, we need backing of those in power, the quicker we make ourselves agreeable to them the quicker they might reciprocate the act when calling in the favour.
Owen looked the prince over before he stroked the stubble of his cheeks.
“The boy’s not too bad looking, he might even fetch the attention of a higher up concerning his pristine and confident air, many a nobleman would pay a proper sum for a ‘bodyguard’ or a ‘companion’ provided the boy isn’t too squeamish about certain matters.”
Gerhardt spat his mouthful out on the suggestion.
“He is a Prince of Belisio, not one of the slaveboys from the docks! How much of a competent and dominant ruler will be appear to be if some Leongardian Nobleman bends him over every night for ‘his’ pleasure?! Out of the question.”
“All I am saying it pays well and makes you rise ranks quickly. If the boy isn’t against it why not look to that option?” Owen suggested shrugging his shoulders.
Gerhardt shook his head at his younger brother.
“We’re not going to do that.” Gerhardt ended that option clearly, before asking.
“What about the Faithful Guard?”
Owen frowned.
“They’re rather ‘particular’ in who they allow to enter that particular order. No one really can get a grip on their requirements for that, making it all the harder to get in those ranks.” He warned. “Your best option is the Magistrate, though he’ll not come up with the best paying jobs immediately and it might take too long.”
“Could you introduce us?”
“Sure thing, I can do that later tonight. I run the late shift, checking the streets of the Lilypond. Horrible hours, but good pay concerning the area of the city.”
“You mean a cushy job, you lazy rat, you’re practically walking the golden route.” Gerhardt pointed out.
“Hahaha hardly they pay extra for each thief, murderer and brigand you bring in. With the Lilypond you’re more then half of the time chewed out, because of the clientele’s delicate feelings or keeping two noblemen from duelling each other. The harbour and Market are the goldmine here.” He replied. Most of the time the work is tedious and boring, little action and when called to action there is little thanks for it in return. But it is best shown, so I suggest you both eat and rest, cause if you’re set on this, I’ll take you with me tonight.”

Owen's vague response only made Corvo more curious as to what an 'Ender' was and he was about to press the matter until Gerhardt spoke up, "Leongarde chose to let Belisio fall, because the relationship between the two countries has been strained for quite some time. In their eyes Belisio had become nothing more than a bully, regardless of how we might feel about such matters."

You dare, the prince thought as he tried to formulate a response, sharing Owen's look of incredulity. A bully? My nation burns and you dare to say it is nothing more than a bully? No... Leongarde. It is from their perspective, but why? What have we done to offend them?

Corvo received his answer soon enough as Gerhardt spoke on of mist harvesters, border disputes and the lives of mages within the Priestdom, which only served to further the prince's ire. So because they decide to shoot themselves in the foot with their own intolerance of magic, they let some minor incident dictate our fates? he wanted to scream, brooding in contempt as the brothers quibbled over mercenary business. Do they not realize that by allowing us to fall, they only stand to be next and all over a few harvesters?

The prince did not make a single sound or movement, nor even a change in expression until he caught the tail end of Owen's words, "... so I suggest you both eat and rest, cause if you’re set on this, I’ll take you with me tonight."

"No," Corvo said, standing up swiftly as he addressed the master of the house. "No, we've wasted enough time here."

Then with a scornful look towards Gerhardt, he continued, "If what you say is true then we will find no aid here no matter what. More aside, I will not bow and scrape for some blinkered theocrat when we could be back home rallying what remains of our forces, of our people, so that we might mount a resistance while we still can. For Gaia's sake, what are we even doing here in the first place?"

His spirit inflamed, Corvo turned hotly towards the door whilst declaring his convictions aloud, "We fled when we should have fought!"

"No," Corvo said, standing up swiftly as he addressed the master of the house. "No, we've wasted enough time here."

Then with a scornful look towards Gerhardt, he continued, "If what you say is true then we will find no aid here no matter what. More aside, I will not bow and scrape for some blinkered theocrat when we could be back home rallying what remains of our forces, of our people, so that we might mount a resistance while we still can. For Gaia's sake, what are we even doing here in the first place?"

His spirit inflamed, Corvo turned hotly towards the door whilst declaring his convictions aloud, "We fled when we should have fought!"

A chair fell backwards as three heavy thuds passed by Corvo's ear and embedded into the wooden door in front of him.
There trembling still were three sharp, thin blades, the width of two fingers and as large as a humanhand.
"You want to fight? You miserable arrogant little ingrate, have not enough people died?" Gerhardt cast at him."Thousands have given their lives attempting to protect what they held dear, but guess what?! It wasn't enough. They weren't enough!! Your father, Your Mother blasted to the high heavens never set one foot on the battlefield to bleed with those poor sods that were called on to fight." Gerhardt told him coldly.
"Oi, easy now Brother."
"No. I have been going easy on him too long." He spoke coldly as he pointed to the door.
"If you want to throw your life away go ahead. Don't expect me to save your pompous ass again, if you are truly that blind that you think you actually have a shot at this and know better, by all means, prove me wrong, walk out that door!" He narrowed his eyes.
"But if you do, don't expect me to follow you. It will be your folly and yours alone."
Gerhardt turned around to drink from his cup.
"But I will make you a prediction for what will happen to you...You'll never reach Belisio. Aside from the fact that you have no means to buy passage back to a wartorn nation, the moment your haughtiness gets the better of you any shrewd man with a mind for business will have put two and two together and sold you out to the Vaimese. Now as a slave and a prince of Belisio guess what they'll do to you? They'll parade you through the streets, like a prize, they'll torment ever hour of your life from that point on and ultimately you'll be butchered upon the altar of their choosing. Your head cut off, balmed and preserved, to display as a victory trophy.
You'll become the instrument to break the back of any sort of rebellion, for who would unite them and be able to lead the nation, when the last of the royal line died?!" Anger festered and bubbled to the surface.
"You think I liked leaving those in my care? Those that had come to depend on me for their survival? For their daily bread? You think I did not want to fight a fair fight? That if given the chance I would not rather have stood with my old friend or safeguard his kin, when fate forced me unto a different path when I stumbled upon you? Do you know what went through my head?! That I thanked the heavens for the lady Fortune safeguarding the future, for giving Belisio a chance at all, that there might be some small measure of hope left despite all of it?" Gerhardt threw his cup at the prince's head, making sure he missed him by a hair.
"Go ahead! Go and run! You'd best hurry 'your majesty'." He snarked before adding.
"Grow a spine boy. Save your regrets and anger for when you're actually in a postition to use them. But if I wasted and risked my life for an impetuous ingrate, by all means leave and save me the trouble of actually caring." He picked up the chair and made a dismissive wave to Corvo. "Either you put some faith in us or you fuck off and do whatever you think is best."

Corvo gasped as the blades zipped by his ear and bit into the surface of the door. Out of pure reflex, he immediately spun around and dropped into a combat stance, expecting the next blade to strike for his heart. What followed however were only the spymaster's words, yet spoken harshly as they were, they struck more truly than any weapon could and Corvo found himself unable to meet Gerhardt's eyes as the man exploded in fury and frustration.

At first the prince's own anger had evaporated into shame and guilt, subsumed by the greater storm before him and he quietly endured it. Admittedly, he had forgotten that Gerhardt had suffered just as much as he had, if not more. He wanted to say so himself, but the dam had broken and now all the weight of everything they had both endured from Belisio to here was spilling out in this room. All the words unsaid, the thoughts unshared, they were coming out now only when they had a chance to stop and the more Gerhardt spoke in honest anger, the more unfair it seemed to Corvo to not do likewise.

"You don't think I know that?" he said, quietly at first as Gerhardt made his predictions. Then the spymaster whipped his cup at the prince's head and whether it would have struck or not, Corvo deflected it anyway with the back of his fist as he shouted, "YOU DON'T THINK I KNOW THAT?"

The cup bounced violently off the other side of the room as the prince continued, "I was there! You don't have to remind me, beacuse i was right there! I am still there, every single fucking night and it's all I can think about! You don't think I know the consequences of failure? I just fucking lived it! We both did! How is it any different over here when we're just as surrounded by enemies? At least over there, I could... I could..."

Corvo wanted to say more, but found himself struggling to articulate his thoughts into words and in a sudden desire to breathe some fresh air, he hurried to open the door and step outside. He only meant to take pause to gather himself, but the spymaster was not done with him yet.

"Go ahead! Go and run! You'd best hurry 'your majesty'," Gerhardt snarked before adding.
"Grow a spine boy. Save your regrets and anger for when you're actually in a position to use them. But if I wasted and risked my life for an impetuous ingrate, by all means leave and save me the trouble of actually caring." He picked up the chair and made a dismissive wave to Corvo. "Either you put some faith in us or you fuck off and do whatever you think is best."

In response, Corvo slammed the door shut so hard that it rattled on its hinges, knocking the three blades loose and sending them clattering to the floor. It was no use. He had no stomach for bickering anymore and further argument would only lead to more hurt. Words were simply not enough anymore. All he could do was look up at the bright blue sky, glimpsing it briefly before closing his eyes and taking in a deep breath. Then for the second time in his life, he let out a shout so fierce that it seemed to make the world shake.

Without thought or intention, Corvo had channelled all the energies of his soul into that shout and like thunder it rumbled through the air, causing the very walls of the house to vibrate. Imbued with so much ki, it would have carried enough destructive force to break through stone or tear a person asunder. Aimed towards the sky however, it harmed only the peace of the neighbourhood as well as the eardrums of whoever happened to be nearby.

Corvo however did not realize how loud it had been nor that his eyes had been closed until he opened them, seeing the old man named Castille who was still seated against the wall of the building. In that moment, Corvo had been blind, deaf and dumb to his own power, and thinking nothing of it, he pointed towards the door with a sheepish expression on his face as he said to the old man, "Sorry, I don't suppose you heard all that?"

Castille snorted.
"I may be blind boy, but I am hardly deaf...though...that last little trick you performed did peak my interest." He said as he stood up, his loose garments, hiding his lanky legs as he took his walking stick and nodded with his head.
"Follow me, I doubt you'll be going on a watch patrol with those two tonight, as they would be watching their backs more in suspicion than actually pay attention to the streets." He said as he lead him back to the fence.
"I'll try to ease and soothe your mind." Castille spoke as he held the hidden door open for him.
"Undoubtedly you've been taught many things little Crow, but as you should be well aware the stories seldom get told fully in order to avoid loss of face or out of shame and disgrace. Such is the way of those who write history...of rulers who determine what will be permitted to exist and the fanatics don't burn for their own peace of mind." He lead him back into the city, hobbling through alleyways that started to liven up as lanterns were lit and small stalls and shops were set up.
"The last few hours before the curfew, that is when you see the true face of the City. Twilight hours we call them. It is when even mages dare to come out and play. When you see artists perform their craft and dancers move silkily for a few silvers." He lead him up the hill, allowing one to look into small courtyard where drinking establishments and foodstalls slowly attracted the working folk.
When he nearly reached the top of the stairs he moved behind a couple of houses to a clear overview, one of the few higher points of the city, offering a clear view of what lay below.
"This City is quite powerful, the Merciful Mother knew this and so does the current High Priest. However it has allowed itself to be corrupted by lesser men, offering the weaker lambs an escape from the harshness that is reality." He pointed to a set of dark narrow alleys. The users are there. The intoxicated and dreamers. They squander their coin for a sliver of pleasure and hope for a dream that ends too quickly and never could be." He spoke sadly before raising his cane to the Tower with strange precision.
"You can be certain the High Priest enjoys his cut as he allows them to do business in the city. Never touch it. The haze alone is said to be so powerful for first timers that they become instantly addicted and as far as I know none have ever recovered from it."
He turned to Corvo.
"You could be a saviour of more than just your own Kingdom. Provided you're willing to see the bigger picture. Find a way to harness this city and Vaim would have a serious fight on their hands. Oh certainly we don't have as many noble strong knights or as many mages, but what we lack in that we can more than make up in sheer fanaticism. I know you'd rather be back with your own kinsmen, but you're not capable to take on an empire on your own. No matter how brave your people are, alone they were crushed and stomped by the large Imperial boot."

****more to follow