“How many of your people are left?” Caeden asked.


    He heard Oswin’s salamander knock crockery over on the table, plates and glasses rolling or shattering as they tipped over and fell. It pushed a basket over, and soft, fleshy thuds echoed across the room. He glanced down as an apple rolled against his boot, and the salamander skittered to it, gobbling it down in three bites.


    “Just me and… Bekker. Everyone else either escaped or fell when those ash things attacked,” he mumbled.


    “Ash Fiends? Oswin,” he barked. The mage moved to secure the area at his unsaid order.


    “No, no. This place is safe. Those Ash Fiends only attack the shamblers and any who get in their way. We moved all of them topside and barricaded ourselves off from the other sections, so the fiends and shamblers ain’t problems here. You’re lucky; had you chosen another section, you’d have found yourself lost in tunnels riddled with them. How’d you get past the mind fog, anyhow?”


    He heard Oswin continue to shuffle about the room, checking through everything.


    “My mage provides protection against it,” Caeden lied, simultaneously squeezing the boy’s trapezius muscle in a painful warning against any further probing questions.


    Whoever controls these Ash Fiends is a friend to neither Ava nor Azael, it seems. Was it the demonkin or another unknown party with a vested interest in the Spirits?


    “Start from the beginning. Tell me about this rebellion. What is its purpose? How did you smuggle this many without anyone noticing?” Caeden prodded.


    “They noticed, they just didn’t care. The rebellion was the would-be noble’s idea, but Greer suspected the command came from his client or someone higher up the chain than him. He said, ‘the nobles live in the lap of luxury, enjoying privileges grown and reaped from the sweat off our backs, yet we are the ones who have to survive off of the scraps and crumbs they deign to throw our way,’” the boy mimicked.


    Ingrates! The Empire was not perfect, but they ensured that every mouth was fed and every urchin had a home. There were guilds of every kind that took those without in, teaching them crafts and skills and making sure they could earn a keep with what capabilities they had. Those who suffered and starved were those unwilling to partake in civilized society. Criminals and layabouts who dealt in illicit goods and services, those of The Marketplace.


    This was not a rebellion formed by the divide between the haves and have-nots; it was a rebellion concocted by discontents seeking the power they envied. Or lost.


    “Does this would-be noble have a name?” Caeden interrupted.


    “Master… Evan, methinks, we called him The Lordling, though. I had only seen him once or twice; he dealt with Greer directly, and Greer dealt with us. He spoke proper sometimes but fit far too easily in with the rest of us scum, so Greer figured him for a poser.


    “But the man knew how the nobles think and twisted their ‘dance’ against them. When the guards started to notice people going missing, them nobles told them to hush up about it or fudge the number of reports so they don’t lose face with one another. Couldn’t have folk thinking they were bumbling failures, incompetent protectors of those they’re meant to keep. Probably thought it some slave trade with the orcs, not a rebellion forming below their feet. If we weren’t keen on The Lording’s cause before, the noble’s reaction sold the notion to us.”


    Caeden’s body heated with rage. Imbeciles and fools! The boy flinched from the locked grip on his neck. He eased it some, and his fingers felt as if it would snap from the effort. Commoners were kidnapped from their very homes while the nobles who swore to serve them turned a blind eye, outmanoeuvred in the dance by criminals. I would almost find the play admirable if the consequences were not so gods damn tragic. This will not stand.


    “How did you turn them, those you kidnapped? More importantly, why did you turn them? Surely, you could rally support without resorting to such dire measures?” Caeden asked, trying to keep some measure of calm in his voice.


    “The client’s idea. I heard he was some wizard. No one’s seen him or met him, but everyone was afraid of him. He was responsible for putting down the illusion around the fields. It wasn’t meant to hide everything completely but just make our activities across the fields a little easier. Once the evacuation was complete, the fields were ours.


    “Greer said the wizard could control the infected through the dark plague. Our orders were to ransack the ruins of the Arcane Towers to the northwest and collect these black obsidian shards stored there…”


    “Good gods!” Oswin exclaimed in disbelief behind him. The implication of the horrors this boy and his cohorts had inflicted on innocent folk shocked him from his silence.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    “Go on,” Caeden urged impatiently, shaking the boy slightly. His sword arm twitched.


    “They turn into these thin crystal insects with long limbs that crawl inside you through your nose or mouth. Sometimes, even a wound if they can find one. However, the wizard needed the infected whole and alive. They stayed mindful that way and were able to pass as spies within the Kingdoms if we could get them past the quarantine. A more agreeable army. The dead ones, ‘specially ones gathered in big groups, become ravenous, biting at everything and are prone to frenzy when they spot a meal. Handling them becomes… difficult.


    “So, we were supposed to keep the infected fed and alive until orders changed. But the orders never came. Nothing came, no deliveries, no goods. Those that left didn’t return. The infected started dying, the Wyvern started flinging fire every which way and topside became unsafe. Then those fiend things attacked. Greer and most of the group tried to escape, but they got confused a few paces outside the tunnel’s entryways. He couldn’t seem to see the shamblers just a few steps away from him and couldn’t find the way back even when he was looking directly at us.


    “Bekker reckoned the Lordling and his wizard betrayed us and took out his competition before trying to make his play for power.”


    “That Lordling was executed by his Queen on a treason charge, so that leaves the wizard. What more can you tell me about him?”


    “Nothing, I told you. No one knows him. Orders came from the Lordling through Greer,” the boy whined. He seemed to be visibly shaken and desperate from hearing of Ivan’s end.


    “Was there no mention of a cure for the dark plague? A contingency plan in case you lost control?”


    “The only cure I know of was severing the spine or bludgeoning in the brain. The only alternative is damaging the body enough where they can’t move no more,” the boy offered.


    Caeden sighed. The Marketplace created a monster and lost control of it. Initially, he thought the wall was the wyvern’s threat to humans, forcing them to bring Ava to him, but now he wondered if it was not meant to keep the afflicted inside and destroy them. But, why let the wall encroach outward? Would Ava be willing to bargain with it on his behalf? Bah, questions left for when I find her.


    “Last question, and I will render my judgment. How far are we to the Mining Town?”


    “W-we are directly below it. If you go further down the tunnel, the entryway to the surface puts you at its outskirts. If you would share your protections with me, I could guide you,” the boy offered tentatively.


    “No need, I already have a guide –”


    “Then, you will show mercy. I swear I only did what I was told; denying them would have meant my death!” The boy interrupted in a rush.


    “Mercy is granted,” Caeden said coldly. He shoved Ava’s sword between the boy’s ribs and severed the aorta in one swift motion. “You will have a quick death. A far more gracious end than the one you offered to those you infected.”


    The boy’s body fell to the floor, clutching his chest. He emitted one moan before it was cut short, and the body stilled, his life gone in seconds as his blood pooled around him.


    “You should sever the spinal column, Your Grace. I do not sense any dark enchantments in this room, but it would not hurt to be sure,” Oswin suggested.


    “True enough,” Caeden said, bending over the body and slipping the blade through its vertebrae.


    He moved away from it before the pool of blood reached his boots and repeated the grim action with Bekker’s body. Then he leaned against the table and heaved a defeated sigh to the gods themselves.


    “What need have we for enemies like Azael when the Empire is an enemy unto itself?” he asked Oswin. It was a question born of frustration, and Caeden did not expect an answer to it.


    “The Casimir Empire has been at peace for over 100 years. We have not had to face many challenges since the 4^th Era, so we pick petty fights with each other instead. Though this… This should have been–” Oswin broke off, sealing his lips tightly together to prevent them from speaking further. He turned from him, avoiding his gaze and continuing his inspection.


    “Should have been what? Speak freely, Oswin,” Caeden prodded.


    Oswin shuffled nervously, considering his words.


    “It is the emperor’s role to keep the nobles in line, to show them the way when they stray and can no longer see the wood for the trees. It should not have been so easy for Azael and the demonkin’s plans to take root before our very eyes,” he huffed angrily.


    “I see,” Caeden muttered pensively.


    Oswin was right. The years of peace had made the emperor complacent and weak, blind to all but the dance itself. He was not the imposing figure Caeden had once thought. Instead of dealing with the difficulties the Empire now faced decisively, his father had shoved their responsibility onto his brother, distancing himself from it entirely. Perhaps moving Kael into power would be the most prudent course of action going forward.


    “Do you think the demonkin and our mysterious wizard are the same?” Caeden asked, leaving that particular train of thought for later and focusing on the matter at hand.


    “It is only supposition. The illusion was the demonkin’s spell. He dispelled it far too easily unless I am grossly underestimating his magical capabilities. It seems natural for a treacherous creature to turn on his allies. But some parts do not add up, therefore, I will not rule out the possibility that Gildaen or his apprentice are still in play,” Oswin theorised.


    “Noted. Gather what supplies you need. We move as soon as you are ready.”


    [Note from the Haelionthyne, the Original Author of The Hybrid: Chasing Destiny: This novel is only published and freely available to read on My Patreon</a>, Royal Road</a> and Tapas</a>. Support me directly with your readership there. No other websites or reading platforms have my permission, express or blanket, to publish my novel or distribute it further.]