《The Beggar Alchemist》


 Argyropoeia

    "What moon will we get tonight?"


    Her tone was joyful, but weak. Eyes that once shone brightly were filled with despair, depleted of hope - yet she forced herself to sound content, unbothered as if hunger was not devouring her from the inside. But starvation was pushing her to her limits. Her last meal was rotten meat, and she could feel the cold sweats getting stronger.


    "Yellow, if I''m not mistaken. Summer is not over, and the sky is clear." A young man answered across from her.


    The narrow streets laid empty, as sickened cats roamed around trying to find a meal, or some warmth before the next day.


    The woman coughed, and covered herself tightly with her poor, shredded grey shawl.


    "I''m sorry. If I had some herbs I could-"


    "My mistake is no fault of yours," she said bitterly. "I was careless and desperate for meat. The first carcass I could find sealed my fate. Maybe it was what I wished, deep down." Her brown eyes met the ground, and she touched her head, denuded of hair.


    She sold it to merchants trying to trade out of the town. It was usually not the people she wanted to involve herself with, but Andrei''s birthday was close and with it, the gift of a warm meal: a luxury both of them only dreamed of now. When she returned with her pouch of coins, she took a wrong turn, and after an unfortunate chain of events, fell to her demise to patrolling guards.


    Her innocence robbed, they took away the purse she carried and with it her will to live; she used to feel rage, now only desperation remained.


    Andrei stood up, wandering his tarnished green eyes on the darkening alley. A row of decrepit houses stood unsteadily, seeming to give way at the slightest motion.


    "Don''t bother, Andrei. A few more days, and I will be no more; one less mouth to feed" she sniggered.


    Andrei sighed.


    "You vex me Lina. A beggar I am, but an Alchemist I shall always be. I know the ways of medicine, and I refuse to let you die this way." he retorted. "Maybe Dr Julian will lend me some weeds."


    "But... You have no money!"


    The young man was already walking away, making his way through animal remains and faeces.


    "Then I shall charm my way in!" he exclaimed.


    -------


    Andrei was not familiar with those dirty streets. He was a scholar once, and a smart one at that, which gave him way to prestigious academies and renowned Alchemists that paved the way to this day. He yearned for the tranquillity of those days, when the world was at peace, and life seemed meaningful.


    Once he graduated from the crown''s academy, he quickly found an alchemist willing to take him in and aid his research. The domus stood near the sea, and each morning air was filled with a sweet smell of fresh baked bread and rosemary; which grew close to his window. The professor Ikron, of whom he served, was an old man overflowing with knowledge. He was a skinny fellow, always wearing a long, deep green robe, and a small yet colorful embroidered hat. Time made him grumpy, but you could still find kindness in him.


    A crow cawed high above his head, snatching him away from his reverie. The moon illuminated his path, filled with debris and corpses. His eyes met with a grand structure, far away beyond this lowly neighborhood. The imposing Palace, towering above Lol?ne, the capital of the Miramond Empire, felt like a monster eyeing its prey. Andrei frowned and spat on the ground.


    "I curse thee," he mumbled. "May the rapaciousness of your family drive you all to insanity."


    He passed his hand into his copper brown hair, and stopped in front of a shop he knew all too well. The door was in a pitiful state; and the widows on each side of the shop were broken for the most part. Candlelit flames casted shadows on the remaining pieces of glass, forming grotesque silhouettes. The young man breathed in, and opened the door with haste.


    The boutique was chaotic to say the least. Pieces of cloth were scattering the floor, books, bottles, and dried herbs messily arranged on shelves around the room. In the back stood a counter, with behind it, a man turned back rummaging through shelves.


    "Julian...?" Andrei called out.


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    The man quickly turned around, taken aback. He wore a worned out reddish bandage covering his eyes. Though he was around his fifties, he was a corpulent man and could easily lift Andrei if he wanted to.


    "My! I was not expecting you at this late hour my friend. Give me a moment, will you?"


    Andrei nodded and leaned back against the wall, observing. Julian lost his eyes to the authorities, long ago. His wife was to be hanged in public for speaking and comploting against the Empire, as they began at that time a crusade against the non-believers. She was a scientist at heart that did not want to abide by unfair laws, interfering with her work. When she stood on the wooden platform with the rope gripping the neck, Julian threw himself at the guards, attempting to save his lover. Moved by his dedication, the 2nd Princess presiding the execution ordered him to only have his eyes gouged out as punishment. You shall see no other women than the one you lost, she told him.


    Between the loss of his dearest love, and his sight gone, the man almost went insane.


    "What can I do for you, my friend?" Julian stood straight, resting his hands on the counter.


    "Lina... She ate from a dead cat, a day or so ago. She says having cold sweats, and she vomited once already."


    The shopkeeper remained silent.


    "That carcass... smelled different. Since the corpse was heated, it had a very strong garlic odor."


    "Garlic is toxic to cats. It can''t be possible." Julian paused. "Are you suggesting..."


    "White arsenic. I have no doubt in my mind. They probably fed the cats and dogs knowing they are often targeted to get some meat"


    Julian suddenly slammed the counter.


    "Those bastards! After taking it all from us, they are planning to murder the entire district? Tell me, how much did Lina eat?"


    "Not much. But I have no idea how much poison was in it to begin with... I am not sure. But would you be able to lend me some poppy? To make the pain a bit more bearable."


    "Of course. Lina is a good girl, I hope she can recover. Or a miracle perhaps. I''m not sure what to believe in anymore."


    Julian went to the back of the store, looking for poppy seeds. The only way to get any herbs into this side of the city was through the black market, and Andrei didn''t want to imagine the kind of items you could find in there. But if that meant finding tools to practice Alchemy again...


    "Here you go." Julian returned, holding a small bag. Andrei walked to him and grabbed the item when suddenly, a loud noise rang far away. Alerted, they both turned around, as a second detonation was heard, much closer.


    "What is this?" questioned Julian.


    Andrei flew out the door, trying to understand the commotion. Looking around, he could see people peeking out their window, confused. Another blast. The ground shook greatly, and he caught a glimpse of black smoke soaring in the sky a few blocks away. Something was definitely wrong.


    "Julian, stay inside!" Andrei screamed. People were starting to run on all side of the street.


    "The shop won''t hold." he pleaded "It is too dangerous to stay in."


    "Grab what you can, and don''t follow the crowd." Andrei responded, more calmly. "I''m going to Lina, let us meet at the tunnel."


    And with that, Andrei ran away. Poor folks were trying to run from the smoke, mothers were dragging their confused, crying children in the street to get away from whatever threat was incoming. Andrei sprinted as fast as he could, turning into corners he never took just to get away from the incoming mob of confused people.


    Another explosion. The shock wave threw him to the ground. This was near. Way too near. Shaken, he slowly tried to stand up, his head ringing. What is going on?


    Screams filled the air, panic arose. He could hear loud stomps making their way near him. Everything was mending together, and little made sense. Andrei shook his head and made his way to the narrow street where he left Lina. A cry of agony resonated, followed by the sound of bones crushing. Imperial Guards. He decided to peek in the corner of the street he just took before joining Lina, to confirm his suspicions.


    Tall, heavily armored knight with capes of red stood colossal above the skinny body one of them just mashed. Their helmet had a crest which depicted the feathersof a peacock, now filled with blood. All only had one singular weapon : a massive war hammer, that seemed bigger than their own heads. Andrei turned away from the scene, realising suddenly that one thing was missing.


    None of them had shields.


    Andrei quickly sprinted away, thinking of a method to leave the city. His feet slapping the ground, jumping above corpses, watching the carnage unfold. This is a purge. Mothers laid against the wall, their face hammered beyond recognition, their child crying by their side. Some other man, in a desperate attempt to defend their loved ones, launching onto the Imperial Guards, before getting slammed onto the ground violently. Smoke slowly descended in the streets, making breathing harder.


    Thankfully, Andrei arrived where Lina was sitting. She was still there, and he sighed in relief.


    "Lina!"


    She turned around, and upon seeing him, started slowly getting up. We can get out of this, he thought.


    "We have to go !" she pleaded. "Chaos is invading the streets... Grab my hand."


    Lina reached her hand out for him to pull. As he was about to grab her, a massive hammer smashed her head against the wall. Blood splattered, brain matter scattered. Andrei''s face was covered in blood and he stood, frozen. The hammer unlodged from the wall, and the knight wielding it shook it slightly to remove the excess of blood.


    "A fine swing my Lord." a knight appeared behind him.


    "Thank you," he answered. "I did not expect so many of them remaining. No matter. It has been quite a while since I trained in the field. You."


    Andrei jolted. Fear crossed his eyes.


    "Yes you" the knight continued. "Are you stupid? You''re supposed to run for me, not stand here like an imbecile! Come on, with haste! "


    Andrei realised that if he did not run now, he was dead. And so, he ran.


    "Good dog." he heard the knight calling one last time, laughing.


    His mind was blank, thinking was impossible. Nothing made sense, yet he could understand. Everything was loud, yet he heard nothing. As his thoughts tried to gather, his steps naturally guided him to Julian''s shop.


    Julian was still out there. The tunnel.


    Maybe he could make it in time.


    Maybe.

 Aurum

    In one of the highest towers of the Palace of Lol?ne, Margo looked by the grand window of her room, pensive. The fire crackled, and she forced herself to detach her gaze from the grim scene she had her eyes on. Her room was too large for herself, and easy it was to feel lonely between those walls.


    "Dear sister" a gentle, calm voice spoke.


    Margo turned around to face her older sister. Sitting on the edge of her bed with her hands crossed on her lap, she looked at her with concerning eyes. Her worry was not genuine, however. Margo knew her family all too well, and how not to fall for deceiving words. Masters of speech, the Miramond House ascended to power not by prowess of war or great financial power. No, they ascended whispering to various Lord''s ears, calculated actions that resulted in them seizing the crown. Margo was the second generation of this family, the youngest, and maybe the most reviled of this House''s legacy. She bore no love for her blood, and only ever wished to escape the claws of this manipulative household.


    "Is there something bothering you?" her sister continued. "Thou doth protest too much. It was a necessary action to take."


    "Slaughtering innocents? Is this your take on justice? I am no fool" retorted Margo, frowning. "Vagrants and beggars, no matter how impoverished they are, deserve no such treatment dear sister" she hissed.


    Her sister glared, hazel eyes filled with anger. She stood up swiftly, and rearranged her crimson gown with golden embroidery, depicting a peacock spreading its feathers.


    "Thou art a damfool to not see the obvious, Margo," her tender voice becoming harsh. "We have no use in mongrels drinking our water and pestering our streets."


    Margo marched to her, furious. She stopped a few inches away from her face, her upper lip curled in disdain.


    "Thou art never stepped foot on these streets," she said coldly. "And I do not recall the last time you have been outside at all, Eliza."


    Eliza glared at her angrily, touching her ash-blond hair. She turned away from her younger sister and paced slowly around the finely furnished room.


    "You know..." she began, "After mother gave birth to you, I often spent time around your cradle."


    She stopped in front of a drawer, and picked up a beautiful blue silk ribbon. A birthday gift Margo received from her, a few years ago. Eliza started untying and fiddling with it, wrapping it around her hand.


    "You looked very ugly." Eliza paused, and looked at her sister. "I''ve tried strangulating you. Twice."


    Margo was taken aback. She knew about these incidents, her maids were kind enough to tell her as she was growing up, but Eliza never confessed.


    "But god, you screamed and cried so loud! Squealing like a piglet, it was awful to listen at, really. I could never go all the way before maids came rushing in. A pity. "


    She slowly made her way to the fireplace, and gazed once more at Margo, who had an uneasy look on her face.


    "We look so much alike, what a shame cleverness is not part of the package," she continued, disdainfully.


    Eliza threw the ribbon in the fire, and watched it quickly burn.


    "Remember thine place, Margo. Maybe I won''t stop squeezing your little neck next time."


    Without another word, Eliza turned away walking towards the door. Far away, a blast echoed. Margo turned at the window once more, watching black smoke rising in the night sky.


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    -------------


    Andrei was trying to find his way through the heavy smoke and flames invading the streets. His eyes watering from the fumes of the burning houses, he had managed to evade the Imperial Guards pursuing innocents. He had to go near the river that passed through Lol?ne to have a chance of surviving.


    The river exited down this part of the capital city, and a large underground sewer system was taken over by the residents over the years. From there you could leave the city, but very few had taken that path. The lands outside were far more ferocious that anything in the capital, until now.


    Andrei coughed, arriving into a street where he was met with three Imperial Guards. Although none of them noticed his presence, as they were swinging their hammer one by one to a small gathered family. He gasped in horror. They screamed, pleaded, offered their mouldy bread; but each word rewarded them with another swing. Each blow breaking bones, but not quite killing them: they wanted to see their anguish.


    Disfigured corpses laid in the streets, eviscerated, guts and organs littered the floor. Neither children nor women were spared. People were throwing themselves out of their window, prefering to choose their own death. Screams and cries resonated throughout every corner, and the unremitting hammering noise was a constant reminder of lives stolen.


    He could not bear to see more, and heavy hearted he sprinted out of the blocks of houses, making his way to the river. Andrei was starting to get a stitch, not used to running this much without a stop. It was a miracle already that he was able to journey this far, but now his legs started trembling, and the reality of the dire situation was settling in.


    "There!"


    A guard shouted behind him. Andrei jolted back, looking at Guards marching his way. I can''t stop now, he thought. He looked forward again and caught a glimpse of the river. Without a second thought, he dashed straight ahead, ignoring the loud stomping behind him. He could hear his heart violently beating, and approaching the river bank took a deep breath, and dove in the water.


    The Imperial Guards behind him stopped at the edge of the river, trying to see him surface, but he did not.


    "What an imbecile," one of the guards muttered. "No point waiting for a man that cannot swim. Let''s leave."


    Andrei surfaced slowly out the water, after waiting for their shadows to disappear from the surface. A corpse was floating down stream to him, and grabbed its sides to hide under. The young man drifted away; concealing himself when a guard was scanning the river for any signs of life. A few dozens of minutes passed, before Andrei felt the current going faster. He looked westward to see he was nearing the exit, and braced himself.


    The current was only going to go faster from now on, knowing this river was flowing down a great lake, he started taking long inspirations. He''d only seen the map of the capital city once, when he was still an apprentice for Master Ikron, so he vaguely knew where he was going. Yet he remained uncertain about many things, one which was if there were any waterfalls, and if so, how great was the fall.


    Andrei started gaining speed, and decided to let go of the corpse he was holding. In front of him stood a huge, round passage plunged in darkness. The only thing he could discern was the water disappearing in this mouth-like entrance. Each side of the structure had carved alchemical symbols: silver, iron, copper, lead. But one was bigger than others, mightier than all. A sun-like shaped mark, with a single dot in its centre.


    Gold.


    Passing through the entrance, silence quickly fell. Away from the screams, the cries, the houses crumbling. Andrei was alone now. He turned around to gaze one last time at the city, but he could only see Lina, her brown eyes and faint smile. He failed to find Julian, but only hoped he escaped in time. A gust of wind forced him to look forward, facing the darkness. The burbling sound of water falling was getting nearer, louder, yet he could see nothing in front of him. Andrei took deep inspiration once more, trying to anticipate the fall.


    The water started to take a dip down, and now a torrent of water was rushing toward the void. As staying afloat required a lot more effort, Andrei decided to dive in, guessing the fall was near: and he was right. Suddenly, the water plummeted downwards and his stomach dropped; he was falling.


    He quickly grabbed his knees, all curled up. The young man was terrified, angry, and mourning. His head was filled with memories, vividly recalling his life before the war took over. Before the Great One appeared, before greed took over humanity; before madness felt like a cure. He used to be someone, had dreams and hope.


    No more, he thought to himself. If the Great One never appeared, maybe he could have lived normally. He could still study at Master Ikron''s domus. He could''ve become an alchemist. If the Great One never promised the Philosopher''s stone to the world then maybe...


    An idea struck him. If he had his hands on a relic, he could change the course of his life. Only Lords could strive to own one. He had resigned himself to live quietly and not get targeted, stopping his craft. But if he became one of them, acted like them, he could reach great power.


    As his thoughts were rushing into his mind, his fall met an end in deep, pitch-black waters.

 Sanguis

    The cascade met with a deep body of water inside a large cave, a gaping hole opening to Lake Mora, situated outside the capital. The delve was hollow, inhospitable even, its walls covered in sharp rocks hunched over the water like teeth closing on its prey.


    Andrei swam to the nearest shore in a last-ditch effort to survive. The young man was beyond exhausted, soaked to the bone and freezing.


    He pulled himself out, breathless, and laid on the ground to grasp for air. The chaos echoed even from beyond the walls, and the heavy black smoke kept its ascension. Andrei gazed at the moon, his mind filled with anger and despair.


    It was yellow, like he predicted. Heartbroken he closed his eyes, trying to make sense of what happened. There was no question on who gave the order, but why? Why now of all times? The Miramond House plunged the city into misery, yet they refused to repair their own mistake. What was this social cleansing really about?


    "Hey, there''s another one here!" exclaimed a male voice.


    Andrei slowly sat, looking to his right where he vaguely discerned two shadows making their way towards him. Alarmed, he suddenly stood, staggering. Panic rushed through him, unsure of what to do.


    "He''s alive, too!" one of the men called out.


    They both accelerated, and soon enough came close to Andrei, who was trying to rush away to safety. His back turned, he started making his way into the surrounding woods, hoping to lose them. The young man never stepped foot in it, however he prayed to not be caught by even more enemies. He could not see much and the branches made his escape difficult. Terrified of meeting his end after surviving this long, Andrei ran with the little energy he had left. It wouldn''t take much for him to trip over... Suddenly a heavy weight came crashing down on him, and the next thing he knew, he was pinned to the ground, choking.


    "The skunky bastard! He actually made it through!" laughed the one pinning him down.


    "I beg of thee, let me go," cried Andrei, terrified.


    The weight quickly relieved itself from the young man, and he agitatedly got up, looking at his aggressors. Panting, he leaned on a nearby try, as none of the muggers tried to stop him. As he was catching a breath, he observed them more closely.


    The first that pinned him down was a man his age, with dark hair and an uneasy smile. He was crouching, looking at him with great interest and curiosity. The second was a tall man, scars along his arms, and from his clothes, Andrei assumed he was a woodcutter. Their sight brought him great relief, as they were no guards and did not appear to have interest in murdering him.


    "Who..." muttered Andrei with a shaky voice.


    "Oh I am so very glad you asked!" the black haired man answered with a joyful voice. "We so happened to be gravediggers, and rich ones at that," he winked to his partner who rolled his eyes. "See, we have been generously paid to gather corpses falling down in the lake this evening."


    Andrei looked at the tall man, who upon closer look, was totally soaked. He must have been the one collecting the detritus. When he gazed back at the man crouching, his throat got dry.


    "We have no point keeping you alive, though."


    His tone suddenly shifted, and his grin disappeared. The air grew cold, the atmosphere was heavy. Andrei was unable to move, sensing a freezing hand around his neck. From cheerful the young man became stern, and his gray eyes seemed to shine in the dark. The silence that ensued seemed to last hours.


    He suddenly smiled at Andrei.


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    "But, I am in a pleasant mood today," his demeanor changed once more, and he jumped to his feet, brightly smiling. "I shall be your savior, and you shall become my... Well, we shall see. But I expect you to pay me an even greater sum."


    Andrei stood uncertain and quite shocked by his behavior, but he figured that it was better to go along now than to run away. He would not survive long alone, exhausted and with nowhere to take shelter.


    "Al-alright," he answered, submitting.


    Rebelling now will lead me nowhere, he thought. I need to play my cards right, and get away from this place as soon as possible.


    "Do we really have to?" the tall man interfered, annoyed. "What are we gaining from a skinny, crummy lad who probably doesn''t even know how to count?"


    A small silence followed, only interrupted by crows cawing in the distance. The black-haired man slowly turned his head to him, eyes filled with rage.


    "You bark too much," he snapped, and instantly rushed to his partner, drawing a sharp blade hidden behind his back. Lunging at him, he stabbed the tall man in the throat, who stumbled before falling, grabbing his neck. The assaillant stood above him before kneeling down at his side.


    "I always hated big dogs," he whispered before spitting on his face. He held his blade close to the agonizing man''s face, going around his horrified eyes, slowly introducing it into his mouth, slightly cutting its tongue. The poor man emitted a gurgling noise, which threw Rade into a violent rage. He started butchering the miserable man''s face, begging for mercy. However, soon enough, his cries went quiet, and a heavy silence fell around them. The young man stood back again, a heavy sigh escaping his lips.


    Andrei, apprehensive and confused, remained silent, unsure of what to do. He just witnessed a murder, a maniac one even and he felt like a single move would put him in danger. This man was not stable, and not trustworthy but he had a chance of survival despite this. If he needed to become a monster to become a Lord, then he shall do so.


    "Let us go," he finally said. "Help me throw him in the lake."


    Andrei walked up to him, and assisted him in dragging the disfigured corpse to the lake. Before throwing it, the black-haired man stuffed his clothes with heavy rocks present along the shore. They pushed the cadaver into the cold waters, watching him sink. Debris was floating around, burned wood, clothes, corpses sometimes. An explosion echoed. Andrei looked back up at the grand wall of Lol?ne.


    "Call me Rade."


    Andrei gazed at him. His face was covered in blood, yet he didn''t seem to mind it much. Rade looked back at him with a grinning gaze.


    "Andrei," he said.


    "Well Andrei, you helped me hide a body. That makes you an accomplice. Do you understand what this entails, I''m sure."


    Andrei nodded and Rade laughed. He threw the blade he used into the lake, washed his bloody face before signalling to Andrei to follow him, entering the nearby woods. The soil was moist, and tree branches hang low, making the path hard to follow. The forest was quite dense and full of life, and Andrei could only imagine how beautiful it should''ve been during the day. After dozens of minutes spent walking in silence, the pair arrived on a dirt and gravel road, where a wooden wagon pulled by two skinny horses was filled to the brim with rotten bodies. Andrei put his hand on his face, trying to avoid the awful smell it was emitting. Flies swarmed around the cart, an annoying buzzing sound filling the surroundings.


    Rade told him to stay a bit afar, as he went to converse with the two coachmans in shabby clothes. After a brief exchange, and some concerned words, they both stepped down the carriage, and walked the path Andrei and Rade just took.


    "Hop on," instructed Rade.


    He obliged. Rade took the reins, and the wagon quickly resumed its course on the gravel path. A bump on the road made Andrei inadvertently push Rade''s shoulder.


    "Please don''t touch me, my clothes are expensive," he simply said, before whistling a cheerful melody.


    Andrei could feel his eyelids shutting down from the fatigue, yet a chilly wind woke him up the second he drifted away. Without realizing, thoughts of the Master''s Ikron laboratory surfaced, the noises of the bubbling liquids, the retorts distilling. He could see the shelves packed with dried and fresh herbs, tubes holding colorful powders, stones lining on the table waiting to be used. Andrei recalled himself reading books, grimoires, learning about the world''s history, the cosmos, the stars.


    The very last thing he remembered was a beautiful full moon night, where he stepped outside the terrace balcony of the domus, gazing at the heavens. In the tender twilight a golden comet descended, its sparkling trail painting the nocturnal welkin shiny colors. When Andrei stood in the sight of this wonderful scene, he felt as if the world would become a better place. Little did he know that this very shooting star would bring only sorrow, despair, and greed to the lands.


    The Great One plan''s had begun.

 Anima Mundis

    It awakened in darkness. No light, no warmth, no cold nor company. It felt oh so very lonely, and so, it wept.


    The tears falling down the void became vibrant shooting stars, stripping the tenebrous abyss with colorful palettes and shimmering light. Witnessing this wonderful event, a vibrant feeling of hope and peace engulfed It.


    The cosmos was far and wide, its beauty expanded ''til the very end of the universe. It was a time of tranquillity and harmony, however as magnificent as Its creation was becoming, the scrawny fingers of loneliness trapped them once more.


    Deprived of companionship and weeping in solitude, It gouged its eye out and shaped the Earth. It spilled Its blood on the surface, smothering the planet with water. It removed its skin, veiling it all, and lands and mountains emerged. Finally they cut their million fingers until the very last one, and placed it all over this new creation. Animals and Humans took life, and now roamed the Earth.


    The humans praised its creator, content, they gave them fire, and so they grew.


    "I prithee," little mortals sang. "Bestow upon us love, and compassion!"


    It obliged. The maker prised out its soul, and squeezed it above the Earth. A fine, golden snow fell down on the lands and waters as the humans ate and drank and rejoiced for their prayers were heard.


    "I prithee," little mortals sang. "Grant us thy name, for we can praise thee eternally."


    That night, when the humans went to sleep, they dreamt of their maker and its story. As the first light of the sun emerged from the clouds, the little mortals wept, touched by Its sacrifice.


    "Thou art good," they sang between their tears. "We are all filled with love and gratitude. Oh, Great One, we shall forever praise thy craft and sanctity."


    The Great One had now a name, and It watched its creation grow. It watched villages transform into towns, towns into cities. It assisted regions forming countries, to countries becoming empires. It gazed at wars fought in Its name, he watched the deaths and blessed the births. For a long time It was praised, and content It was. However slowly the worship faded, as humans slowly neglected the benevolence of their creator.


    Great cities stood tall above clouds, seas had been practically conquered, and little mortals now followed not the path of faith, but of rationality and science. People ceased to be amazed by miracles, and soon enough, the Great One felt lonely once more.


    The Great One thought long and hard, when suddenly an idea struck them.


    It shall give humanity the tool to ascend to divinity, and assist them in their great work.


    It produced then four artifacts that It scattered on the lands far and wide. The first was a somber sphere called The Egg of Discord, that upon touching it, swallowed up the bearer with a violent madness. The second was a beautiful refined bottle containing a shiny pearly liquid, and called it the Water of Radiance. One teardrop would send you in an ambrosial frenzy, a heavenly ecstasy no one can possibly imagine. For the third, the Great One grasped rays of sunlight, and stuffed it in a diamond box. The Rays of Submission would make anyone blind at its sight.


    For the last artifact, the Maker decided to give an idea, and named it The Will of a Red King. All of these reunited, the ultimate work, the Great Work would be accomplished: the Philosopher''s stone.


    Anyone swallowing the stone would ascend to godhood, and live in the infinite cosmos alongside the Great One.


    And so, on a full moon night, the artifacts descended to the earth in a glimmering golden light.


    -----


    A warm ray of sunlight caressed Andrei''s cheek and ascended to his eyes, disturbing his sleep. He slowly opened his green eyes, moving away from the light that woke him up. The air was still, a sweet silence enveloped the room he was in and for a split second, felt peace in his heart. He gently moved his feet, shifting position under the comfy duvet. Suddenly he sat, realising he did not know the place he was in, and looked at its surroundings.


    "Finally awake, princess?"


    Andrei glared at the comment, looking at Rade leaning next to the door, chewing on an apple. The room was little, dusty, and barely furnished. One bed, one table against the wall and a chair.


    "You slept like a log. I''m impressed," Rade continued.


    "It is not like you did not sleep at all," Andrei said with a groggy voice.


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    "Right, a few hours is all I needed," Rade answered jokingly.


    Rade chuckled before swallowing a bite of the apple. He passed his hand through his messy black hair, staring down at Andrei, who put his feet on the chilly wooden floor, trying to stand up. He tried once and stumbled down onto the bed, feeling embarrassed. Andrei had no strength to even get up. Rade sighed in annoyance and grabbed the door handle.


    "You are adding up to the sum my friend..."


    A few minutes later he came back with a steaming bowl of stew consisting of potatoes, onions and carrots. The sight of the food made Andrei drool in anticipation. Rade gave him the bowl and added a wooden spoon to eat. Grateful he grabbed the meal, and started to devour it all. The heat of the potatoes did not stop the young man from enjoying a warm meal for the first time in years. No matter how bland it tasted, the only thing Andrei could think about was sharing this bowl with Lina. She only ever had known poverty and never tasted a cooked piece of meat, even less cooked potatoes, still only ever dreamed of a long table filled with food and people to enjoy it with. The thought of this brought tears in his eyes. His only wish was to see her once more.


    Andrei finished his bowl quite quickly, and wiped away the tears almost falling.


    "Now have you done weeping like a little girl?" he smirked.


    The words made Andrei look straight through his silvery eyes, and Rade took the chair before reversing it while sitting, leaning on its top rail.


    "That is the look I''m seeking," he continued, pointing at him. "Enraged eyes, yes... It seems you have found the culprit of the world''s collapse. Now tell me. What is it you want to achieve, Andrei?"


    Andrei thought a bit.


    "What did you save me for? A man like you always expects something in return."


    Rade raised an eyebrow, and laughed frankly.


    "Oh I just knew you were smart! What a great day. Yes there is something I aspire to accomplish, but it is very little, nothing serious. I''m much more interested in what you have in mind. The determination you harbour, now I find that very captivating."


    Andrei uncomfortably shifted in his position. He did not know where to begin.


    "The artifacts... I need them. Greed has bled this Empire dry, a war might break amongst the Houses and the population is suffering because of it."


    Rade''s eyes gleamed in excitement.


    "Oh..." he started in a low voice. "So you want to enter the game? And how exactly is a beggar going to win at all?"


    Andrei looked at him, amused.


    "By begging, of course."


    -------


    They both stayed at the inn another night. Rade had charmed the owner of the establishment, a young widow who, from his words, "quivered in excitement at my tender lies", which got him a room for Andrei for 3 copper coins. A deal.


    They left the day after, by foot as Andrei''s surprise. When asked, Rade explained that he got the pay from the gathered corpses that fatal evening. The partner he came with was a random lad he enrolled on his way to the lake, not wanting to dip into the cold water. He never was registered anywhere, and so his disappearance was not noticed. Rade drove the cart to the meeting point agreed upon, and got his pouch filled with silver coins.


    The walking was not as hard as Andrei thought. He did regain a lot of energy thanks to the food, and he felt much better, but not exactly satisfied. When starvation has been part of your life, it is hard to get rid of the growling sensation eating you from the inside. But recovery was on its way, and in time, he shall be strong as he used to be.


    It was a sunny day, slightly warm but it was still morning, anticipating an afternoon eat, the pair had decided to depart early. They were walking on the side of a dirt road, heading south-east. Rade carried a bag containing dried food for the journey, refusing to let Andrei hold anything of weight, no matter how much he pleaded. His clothes changed to ones a bit more in shape, but he could smell himself reeking, and it was far from pleasant. Andrei choose to walk behind him, to not make his odor more unbearable for his surroundings.


    "Where are we heading?" he asked.


    "You want some artifacts, yes?" Rade answered quickly without turning around. "The one nearest to us is one that was seized by House Hatchet. They were the first to receive one, and absolutely refused to give it to the crown."


    "I did hear they have always called the Miramonds deceivers, and did not bend the knee."


    Rade sighed. "Indeed... Hot heads with half the army of what the crown possesses. This by itself gives them more influence than any of the allies of the Miramond."


    "Do they truly have that many men? Why wouldn''t they try to take over the crown then?"


    "Because they are boring. They have no interest for power or leadership. Hatchet is an old, prideful House extremely rooted in its territory and tradition. They prefer to follow rather than command."


    "How are we supposed to get near Dryfort, or even get in?"


    "The reason why this House has such an extensive army is because they recruit all the time and anyone can apply. The Hatchets are desperate to show their superiority and most importantly, during these times, the only way to get food without stealing is to become a soldier. You get three meals a day and a place to sleep, what is more to ask?"


    Andrei was doubtful, but backing up now was out of the question. At least Rade knew what he was doing, and where to go. But still, all of this, it was like he knew exactly what was going to happen. He barely knew him, yet here he was already following his steps without questioning. No matter what Rade had in mind, he needed to make plans on his own. Discover which artifact the Hatchet house held, and most importantly, how to snatch it for himself.


    Rade glanced at him.


    "It is not about trust. It is about how we can use each other for our advantages," he calmly said.


    "I wasn''t trying-"


    "It''s written all over your face, I''m not an idiot. And I don''t blame you for it. In time I shall tell you what I have in mind but for now, we walk. The journey is long and we can not afford to take too much time."

 Regulus martis

    One could argue that a good emperor is benevolent, kind, and attentive to its subjects. Others would say a leader has the most chances in ruling a country with fairness and empathy. Hayden Miramond was neither.


    Large velvet curtains slid open swiftly, revealing a bright morning light peeking through the high windows of his suite. Maids were trotting around the place, bringing hot water and elaborated clothes to be ready. Hayden got out of bed without a word, only gesting maids and valets to do their jobs not wanting to be bothered. He had no point speaking to commoners after all.


    His face cleansed with violet water, he let it be dried by the prettiest servant he specifically chose. Without a single word uttered, Hayden was being washed, dressed and fed, without caring to thank the people working for him. After finishing his morning meal, he stood up, towering above all his retainers. Maids quickly put away the table and food, as two valets placed a mirror in front of the emperor to examine himself.


    Hayden was dressed in a crimson red attire - a black shirt tangled with gold embroidery covered by a dark red suit, and an emerald shoulder cape with gilded peacock feathers. Dark pants and high leather boots finished his ensemble and he nodded in contentment. His gaze went from his tarnished blond hair to his bushy beard, wondering if he should demand to reshape it-he looked older than he thought, and it did not please him one bit. Finally the most important piece was brought to him. A crown made of pure iron forged in the heat of the First Fire.


    It was simple, but its long sharp spikes rose higher than a forearm length conveyed more than fear, but respect. Meticulous hands were required to manipulate it. Easy it was to get a small wound while holding the precious object: sharp as a blade it could cut through the skin like butter. Nevertheless Hayden the Second was unbothered by some scratches, as it came nowhere near as the sacrifices he had made to ascend to the throne.


    When he stepped out of his chambers, the head butler waited with a serious face in the grand hall. They both marched together, passing refined tapestries and prodigious paintings. Every single being in the palace bowed to his sight in an unnerving manner-his presence inspired respect and fear. His steps led him to an illuminated gallery where numerous marble statues were exposed. Each one of these sculptures were carved so the face would look down-even in art, all shall bow to Hayden Miramond.


    The emperor walked down rooms and stairs, passed through the Imperial Garden filled with peacocks and exotic animals, and finally entered another wing of the palace where only very special meetings took place.


    His butler quickly opened the ornamented door, letting the emperor in as the war council stood upon his arrival. A grand wooden table stood in the centre of the stone room, and was surrounded by four finely dressed men. One lit chandelier hung above, illuminating the place with a dim light. Hayden quickly motioned them to sit as he himself took place at the end of the table, taking a seat at a beautifully carved wooden chair.


    "Milords, let us begin," he declared with a raspy voice.


    "House Hatchet has begun recruiting soldiers once again, your Grace. Their forces are becoming considerable, especially after House Creswick bent the knee to Lord E¨®gan¨¢n Hatchet. Our mole has not yet discovered any type of plan or strategic meeting," began a middle aged man sitting on his left. He wore a deep green robe and dark flat cap adorned with a white feather, covering his short brown hair.


    "Send a messenger with our fastest horse. Give him a letter stating to Lord Hatchet that his actions are not going unnoticed, and without a proper explanation of his whereabouts, will be considered a threat to the crown," the emperor responded without looking at him.


    "I would suggest sending a gift, your Grace," the man in green continued with a smirk. "I reckon it might make the Lord more willing to answer thee."


    Hayden took a moment to think.


    "Agreed. I trust your judgement on this matter Lord Vane, choose as you see fit."


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    Lord Vane nodded in agreement. A portly man dressed in gold and jewels took the floor.


    "Your Grace, the new taxes you demanded have all been collected as you asked. I suggest we invest in our army and city reinforcements in case the Hatchets refuse to obey."


    "No. Unless they make a move, I won''t," answered the emperor coldly. "I shall not waste this gold without a proper plan in mind. Ainard," he turned to a young man sitting the furthest on his left side. "How many houses are ready to aid in a potential fight?"


    "We have currently four and ten houses ready to send their men at your command father."


    Hayden glared at his son.


    "Your Grace," Ainard corrected.


    "It is not enough. Thou shalt depart on the morrow to the Larima Isles and retrieve their fleet. If they refuse, tell them I will invade them myself."


    Ainard nodded.


    Hayden laid his eyes on a robust man, sitting next to the rotund individual.


    "Lord Fletcher. How is the new training for the infantry coming along?"


    Fletcher turned to him with a pleasing smile.


    "Rather great, your Grace. The cleansing of the undercity helped them wield the hammer much more confidently. I say that they are ready for a battle, if it comes to it."


    "Good, have some of them ride a horse. I need more mounted forces, and if needed ask Lord Barlow here for any financial requests, I give you permission.


    "Thank you, your Grace."


    Lord Vane shifted in his seat, and took a soft voice.


    "Your Grace. There have been sightings about an artifact, north-east from here."


    Hayden looked at him, eyes wide. Everyone in the room held their breath. This was an information everyone dreaded, and could drastically change the course of this conflict. All had eyes on the puny man, awaiting.


    "Even though it is only whispers, I would like his Grace to not take this information as facts. As the rumours are still vague and not yet trustworthy, we should not overthink this-"


    "Speak goddamnit!" the emperor yelled, slamming his fist on the table.


    Lord Vane resumed with an anxious, shaky voice.


    "It has come to my attention that, presumably, the Water of Compassion has been found in Trimboli territory."


    The silence that followed was filled with fear - none of them dared to look at the emperor. The Trimboli was a far older empire than Miramond''s: the legend says that its lands harboured the very first men, descending from the Great One''s fingers. So far the relation was cordial at best, but grew sour since the first artifacts descended on earth five years ago.


    "This is not good," Hayden finally muttered. A sigh escaped his lips, and he covered his face, pensive. The Lords looked at each other in confusion, uncertain of what to say.


    "We need to submit House Hatchet. Retrieve their artifact and challenge the Trimboli, as we will have significant power to stand against any nation by then. Lord Fletcher, send troops at Foghill post, I need the borders secured. Report any activity to me personally. Lord Vane I want you to find more than rumours about this matter, although vague, I am convinced they hold some truth. You are dismissed."


    Everyone stood up with haste, and left the room slowly leaving Lord Barlow and Ainard behind. Noticing them, the emperor looked at them both, waiting for one of them to say a word. Ainard looked at his father, and upon seeing his annoyed gaze, decided to step out of the room.


    "I will come back to you when it comes to finance, Lord Barlow," said Hayden hoarsely.


    The room laid still, as Lord Barlow slowly paced around.


    "I was wondering your Grace, if you had the intention to use the artifact in our possession?" answered Lord Barlow, playing around with his rings. "I am no soldier, and heaven forbid I aid in negotiations, but truth is we are on a stand by."


    The emperor arose from his seat.


    "You be careful with your words now."


    "Your Grace," continued Barlow, "I want nothing more than to see you triumph from this. And if the Hatchets refuse any kind of agreement or provide any explanations... Make them submit. Only an idea of course, but do rebels truly have a place in the future thou art trying to build?"


    Hayden remained silent. As much as he despised House Hatchet, using an artifact to implement fear was not what he had in mind. However if it comes to this...


    "You are dismissed," commanded the emperor.


    Lord Barlow bowed slightly.


    "Your Grace."


    He walked out the door without a sound, leaving a stern man to his doubts and schemes.

 Noli Timere

    Summer was gradually coming to an end. Rade and Andrei had maintained a great pace so far, although the heat was getting increasingly more difficult to deal with. The nights were still warm, the insects irritatingly active and the smell of lavender perfumed the roads leading to Dryfort. Maybe it was the sun that pushed people to stay hidden, since the roads were for the most part empty. Sometimes they would cross a young man walking to the Hatchets just like them, and they would share a night of conversation before continuing their course.


    The dirt path slowly made way to a road of gravel, and around them an abundance of green grass and tall trees formed. Andrei could feel the air getting slightly cooler as multiple small rivers were flowing down their path, leading to some wooden bridges overgrown with vines. As the melodious chirping sound started resonating around them, a calmness enveloped the young man and he found himself gazing at this overflowing nature, seemingly untouched by mankind. There was a feeling in those woods of something ancient, profound, and powerful that anyone would regard it with respect and admiration.


    The pair had spent the first few days of the journey without uttering a word, though as time passed the silence was getting unbearable, and Rade broke the ice. He talked about his love for freezing weather, and the time he got lost in the woods of his childhood home; almost dying in the process. Andrei remarked that it could have made this bad experience turn into a hatred for winter, but Rade argued that the silence of the cold season brought him a certain peace he couldn''t really explain.


    They shared meals, sometimes took naps under green trees, and debated to choose where to find a place to sleep. Andrei was slowly getting his strength back thanks to Rade''s strict diet, since overeating would only bring him sickness and pain. Having company caused memories of his dear friend Lina to fill his mind, but he always found a way to distract himself.


    One night, as they were nearing Hatchet territory, Rade confessed that most of his coins have been spent since they started travelling. He suggested sleeping out in the open, in a place they both deemed safe enough. Andrei agreed with a conflicted face not having much choice, and they scoured the surroundings looking for some kind of threat. They both ventured out of the road, and pushed through some bushes and trees, proceeding with caution. It was not rare for a disturbed man to prey on some travellers to strip them away of possessions or valuable objects, or anything that could satisfy them: sometimes, they just wanted meat, and you were the only way to provide it.


    Rade took the lead giving his leather bag to Andrei, as he masterfully walked without a sound on the dried grass. He carefully pulled out a kitchen knife he stole from the tavern they stayed at the start of their journey, ready to defend himself against potential threats.


    Suddenly, a quick movement behind some bushes caught his attention. His silver eyes looked down where he presumably saw the movement, drawing his blade forward. Discreetly moving towards the target, Rade stopped breathing for a moment, a slight apprehension taking him. He braced himself and jumped in the bushes, knife ahead. A high pitched squeak bleared out, making Andrei jolt in surprise. The knife had met with a brown hare, making Rade''s eyes shine in excitement.


    "A hare Andrei!" he exclaimed, genuinely happy. "What do you think, should we grill it? Use it in a stew? Oh how lucky we are!"


    Andrei sighed in relief, turning behind him. It seemed that no one had heard the commotion, but he wasn''t sure if this place was safe yet.


    "Let''s decide where to stay first while the sun is still out," he said, looking back at Rade.


    Rade''s expression slowly faded, and he nodded, grabbing the dead hare in its hands. Both went through the woods a bit more, as Andrei tried to look for a spot that could grant them some shelter.


    They both settled inside a nearby cave, apparently deprived of its original inhabitants giving the two a perfect place to sleep for the night. As the sun set giving the lands an intense orange and amber colour, Rade had begun removing the skin and the guts of the animal, while Andrei was trying to find some herbs he could use. It was unsuccessful however, as he''d never yet studied the plants of the region: since Master Ikron''s domus was located in the deep south, he never got the chance to experience this side of the empire yet. He picked up dried herbs and twigs instead to help Rade start a fire.


    The small ambers of a flame began to form, as Andrei gently blew to let it take more importance. Rade seemed lost in thought, moody even, and Andrei watched him pierce a stick through the hare before placing it above the small fire.


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    "Is something the matter?" Andrei asked, brows knitted.


    Rade didn''t immediately answer, focused on the fire growing in size. Without looking his way, he answered with a controlled tone.


    "Nothing, just excited for the meat."


    "Oh you are radiant indeed," remarked Andrei chuckling.


    Rade shot him an annoyed look, and plucked the wooden stick in the ground, leaning towards the fire. He laid down and put his hood over his head.


    "We will be there tomorrow," he said in a distant voice. "Might be the last time we eat some meat, if we get out alive."


    Andrei stayed silent for a moment, studying his face. His silver eyes seemed lost, as if having visions of an obscure past that he could not reach.


    "We will," affirmed Andrei, eyes determined.


    Rade pivoted his head towards him, curious.


    "You will keep me alive, right?" quipped Andrei.


    Rade burst out laughing.


    "I have other things to take care of, but sure, if you insist," he chortled.


    "Other things? What exactly?"


    "There are things we both want at the Hatchets. You want one of the most coveted objects in the empire, while I... I''m looking for someone." Rade confessed.


    As Andrei was going to ask more about this mysterious individual, he caught a glimpse of a great rage in his eyes. They were filled with wrath and intense hatred, and the rest of his face slowly twisted in anger. Andrei wondered what could have procured the young man such rage as the simple thought of it. He decided to ask no more, and dropped the subject.


    "Do you have any idea where the artifact could be?" he asked.


    Rade''s traits soothed slightly.


    "They have a deep dungeon, probably the Hatchet''s pride and joy."


    "That''s interesting, I''m not sure I have heard of this before," replied Andrei, eager to know more. "Tell me about it, I''m intrigued."


    Rade sat, and picked up the wooden stick bearing the hare before slowly twirling it above the fire. He took a few minutes of reflection, trying to find the word to describe the place.


    "It is... Big. No, gigantic. Imagine this: a deep underground dungeon where traitors and criminals are gathered, a gargantuan labyrinth where without a guide, you would never see the light again. Halls and cells that succeed in a distorted manner, stairs that seem to never reach the bottom."


    Rade paused. Andrei looked at his face, trying to find what thoughts were afflicting him. But when he saw his eyes, he stopped for a second. Rade''s silvery eyes were filled with fear. He was afraid. The fire crackled, and Andrei shook his head.


    "A louring place it seems. And tell me what is it called?" inquired Andrei, uncomfortable.


    Rade kept twirling the wooden stick, and the luscious smell of grilled meat filled the air around them.


    "Howling halls."


    ------


    The night came, and after the conversation, Rade''s mood significantly decreased. Fright had left his eyes, but he remained silent, unwilling to talk more about the place. Andrei was not sure what to think, giving the description of this underground labyrinth. He needed to have access to some plans, or a guide at the very least, but how to get even close to the place if they were assigned as simple soldiers? No, being a soldier won''t do. He was not the best fighter, but he was knowledgeable, more than the average man. Andrei had to reach higher grounds, reach Lord''s Hatchet closest man. Gain his trust, at the very least. He had to prove he was worthy of keeping close at hand, not thrown in the dirt to battle with a sword.


    The meat was exquisite. Nothing in this world could come close to the absolute bliss this grilled hare was giving them. Every bite felt like a new found joy that kept them going. When both finished, only bones were left.


    Rade volunteered to stay awake and guard the small camp, and he got up with haste without asking for Andrei''s answer. Defeated, he laid down near the fire watching the dancing flames as his thoughts slowly carried him to sleep. His mind was a jumble of emotions and images he could not remove from his head - Lina''s death, especially, barely gave him any rest.


    Andrei thought about Rade''s anger at the mention of the man he was looking for. He too was filled with wrath, but it was fueled by a deep injustice and resentment of the crown. Though it was nowhere near as or as the deep resentment hidden away in Rade''s silver eyes. Lina''s death brought him sadness, anger also, yet he mourned his previous life more. It was incredibly selfish, and Andrei hated himself for it, but the memory of his sweet life had never left him. The tender feeling of peace and the ability to lose himself to his studies fully,ached deep in his heart. He missed this life dearly.


    Alas, this time was long gone now. Forward was the only way to go, and with it, the hope to change the world to a slightly gentler place.

 Nexilis

    A crippled man was sitting near a window, a pensive look on his face. He was observing the inner court of the castle encircled by a high curtain wall, filled with young men somehow unaware of what was going to happen to them. They were laughing, talking as if what they were about to embark on was nothing more than a joke.


    "Prince Raghnall," a butler called out in a soft voice. "Would you like to attend this ceremony?"


    Raghnall stayed silent for a little while, pondering if it was worth taking time to look over at some men willing to do anything for a bit of food. As he was about to refuse, he caught a glimpse of a black haired man walking through the gates. He squinted his blue eyes to make sure he was not mistaken. Piercing grey eyes, dark hair and an annoyingly attractive face... No he was definitely not wrong; however he could not recognise who he was travelling with. Raghnall chuckled, and answered with a light tone.


    "I''ll attend. Please rearrange my hair for the occasion."


    "Of course my prince."


    As the butler slowly brushed his ginger hair, Raghnall thought about the reason why Rade would come back so late, considering his business undone. In truth, he knew very well why it had taken him so long, but he could not wait to see how everything was going to play out.


    "Do some small braids today," he suggested to his butler.


    The prince let his hair grow out of spite to his brother. E¨®gan¨¢n took the throne of his father when he turned five and twenty, and ruled with a rigid hand on the lands he inherited. He was a man rooted in old tradition, and loathed women more than anything else on earth, viewing them as simple tools bereft of emotions. And so, Raghnall decided to humiliate him by letting grow his hair to look like the women he despises so much; since now he was going to appear in public with him, and could not wait to see his reaction. They have never been close, and their relationship worsened the day Raghnall lost the use of his legs.


    Long time no see Rade, thought Raghnall. My brother will be delighted to see you.


    -----------


    Andrei was getting overwhelmed by the sheer amount of people converging in one place. The inner court was packed with men of different ages and ethnicities. Some were missing an eye while others had no arms at all; it felt like a circus gathering more than army recruits. The sound of laughter and chatter resonated in the air, to the point where it was necessary to raise your voice to have a normal conversation. It seemed that everyone knew each other, prattling on like old friends and embracing one another like family. Andrei envied them dearly.


    He looked around, taking in how vast Dryfort was. Although it was nowhere near as massive as the imperial palace of Lol?ne, it certainly was grand in height and meticulously carved. The remparts protecting Dryfort were made of heavy blocks of stones, sometimes higher than three adult men. A wooden and stone castle rose high behind stone buildings Andrei assumed to be the great halls. The inner court had various stalls providing for the army: smiths, saddlers, bowyers and many more. All worked in a great cacophony making Andrei almost begging for some silence.


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    Suddenly someone rang a high pitched bell, and the bailey ceased any conversation or activity it was doing. In a matter of seconds, a heavy silence fell where no one dared to utter a single word. Guards opened the doors of the great halls facing the court, making way for Lord E¨®gan¨¢n Hatchet. A small wooden stage stood before the malnourished men, and the Lord stepped on confidently looking down at the famished fellows who barely knew how to count.


    "Lord E¨®gan¨¢n Hatchet," hurled a guard. "Bow!"


    Everyone executed without questioning. As Andrei bowed he turned to look at Rade, who''s expression hardened.


    "Rise," commanded Lord E¨®gan¨¢n. He had a gravelly voice, imbued with a high self-esteem that made him take all the room. When he spoke, people listened.


    A quick silence followed where everyone gazed at him, curious. E¨®gan¨¢n had inherited the flaming hair of his father, and his father before him, a symbol of courage and determination. The clothes he wore were already made for winter, as he was expecting autumn to not last very long. He wore very proudly the crest of his family on his chest: a red hawk. A silver crown rested on his head, its centre aboring a beautifully carved sapphire.


    "Commarades," he continued. "We are here today-"


    "A moment!"


    A butler came out of the great hall pushing a wooden wheelchair. Murmurs scattered around the assembly, surprised and curious. Rade and Andrei observed the scene as Lord E¨®gan¨¢n''s face turned red in anger, and Raghnall gazed back with a playful look on his face. The poor butler struggled to push the wheelchair up the stairs, making the event turn comical. Embarrassed, Lord Hatchet ordered a guard to help the butler carry the chair to the stage, and all lifted Raghnall''s to the stage.


    Andrei gazed at this new individual, amazed. The prince''s flaming hair cascaded over his shoulders, tangled with skinny braids. Blue eyes shone like a clear spring sky, bright and filled with mischievousness. Light freckles covered his face, and he harboured a cheeky smile on his lips. He was relishing the humiliation he was giving to his brother.


    Lord E¨®gan¨¢n looked at the crowd, not bothering to introduce his brother.


    "Commarades," he continued, "We are here today because the Empire failed you."


    He looked at each and every single one of these poor men, who were taking down every word coming out of his mouth.


    "The Iron Crown is tarnished. A disease has taken its roots in this fair palace; an unworthy, unjust Emperor is ruling as we speak, looking down on you all. Gifting his daughters expensive dresses and jewellery and had the audacity to raise taxes? What for? To fund his offspring delicate meals and extensive travels? Your families, starving already by an awfully dry summer, forced to give the little food they had left?"


    Some men in the crowd expressed their anger, raising their arms in protest.


    "How much more is he going to take from us? As he comfortably sits on his throne eating roasted pheasant and exquisite food, what is left for his people? What is left for our children? For your wives? With what money will you be able to put some bread on the table for your families? "


    More cheers. Lord E¨®gan¨¢n raised his hand signalling them to lower their voice.


    "I hear you. All of you," he continued with an emotional voice. But Andrei noticed how his blue eyes were filled not with compassion, but greed. His heart ached.


    Is there truly no one in this world that does not bear eyes filled with avidity? Andrei thought.


    "Comrades, where the Emperor fails, I will give you all that I have. All that I own. Because I truly believe that you have the right to live like decent men-"


    Cheers roared through the inner court, taking Andrei and Rade by surprise.


    "I believe in you all. If Emperor Hayden Miramond refuses to lead its people, then I will. I shall lead you all to greatness, to freedom, to the lands that were once yours!"


    The men screamed in encouragement, eyes glimmering with hope seeing in this Lord their path to greater days. Both Rade and Andrei kept quiet, observing around them the scene unfolding, as all began to chant Lord''s Hatchet name in unison.


    "E¨®gan¨¢n! E¨®gan¨¢n! E¨®gan¨¢n!"


    A hail of applause roared the court again, and all acclaimed the Lord, radiant, who put his hand on his heart. It felt like he was savouring the chants of his name, a holy glory bestowed upon him by the heavens; or so he thought. Andrei was trying to get a glimpse of the wooden stage, trying to look at the crippled prince. When he did, he saw how the prince was putting his hand over his mouth, chuckling.

 Amiticia

    "Why the long face?"


    Rade looked up at Andrei laying down on his side in front of him. They both were sent to the barracks after the triumphant speech given by Lord Hatchet, and the pair were assigned two beds facing each other. In reality, these "beds" were simple wooden planks with a soiled cloth, but to Andrei it felt luxurious to have a place to lie down that was not cold stone and warm piss. In Lol?ne, Lina and him had nowhere to sleep; a few times they had tried to build a small shanty with pieces of wood and whatever they could find useful, but it was destroyed over and over by thieves pursuing any material to sell or utilise for their own benefit. They gave up after many attempts, and often found warmth in corners of houses where excrements were disposed of. The wooden bench was more than Andrei could have asked for.


    "I have a lot on my mind," admitted Rade with a soft voice. "But we made it through, so we can at least relax for tonight," he looked back down, not wanting to interact any more.


    Noises echoed on the stone halls, men playfully hurling, perhaps playing a card game. There were many of them crammed between those walls, and the foul smell of sweat lingered on the walls of this unsanitary place. The barracks were built underground, where thousands of men shared their daily life from meals to showers, and morning ''til nights. Light barely made it to these packed rooms; it was not so much a necessity, as they would spend most of their time outside patrolling or training, depending on the day.


    "You have a grim look on your face, Rade," Andrei pointed out. Hearing his name, he lifted his eyes to him, his face conflicted. Rade was rubbing his hands together, clearly disturbed, and Andrei wondered why he felt suddenly uneasy after the speech. Something wasn''t right.


    A lot of thoughts have crossed the young man''s mind since the afternoon passed. Blurry memories had surfaced the moment he set eyes on Lord E¨®gan¨¢n and his brother Raghnall. Echoes of a past he wanted long gone, but inevitably kept finding its way back to him; green trees under a bright spring sun, laughs resonating in the air - he was just a kid back then, just a child when he saw the tragedy that shattered him. Back then, Raghnall could still walk...


    Andrei sat up inspecting Rade''s face, who bore a distressed look on his face.


    "It always seemed strange to me," Andrei began with a suspicious voice. "How you always seem to know all the names of the houses, their lords, their sons and daughters. Even I, who had the chance to study, do not know any of this. Because this knowledge is only acquired by tutors or priests- "


    Panic flashed in Rade''s eyes.


    "-Who are only hired by Lords and men of power. However despite all this, you are a murderer. You killed before, and you are ready to do it again if need be. And I am just left to wonder... Who are you?"


    Rade looked down at his shoes, refusing to talk. He knew Andrei was observant, but promised himself to never reveal to anyone the reason for his actions. Visions of his mother, agonising, holding her belly tight. She was gripping on curtains, hurling in pain as a man was pulling back her hair, cursing her out.


    "Who are you, Rade?" asked Andrei again, pushing him to speak.


    Screams echoed in Rade''s mind. He was playing with Raghnall and E¨®gan¨¢n long ago, in the middle of a forest he could not remember; the day was bright and they were running from each other, racing towards the top of a hill. His mind blurred, and suddenly heard screams of pain arising from the bottom of a ravine.


    "How do you know the Hatchets?" Andrei''s voice felt far away, echoing from a distant place.


    Rade felt scared when he looked up at E¨®gan¨¢n. There was nothing else but a smile forming on his lips, and his eyes shone with a twisted joy.


    "Rade?"


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    "Stop!" he screamed out, his face twisted in anger. Andrei jolted back, startled by the sudden noise. Men turned to see the commotion, curious. He could see Rade''s wrath and rage, and regretted putting him into that state.


    "Listen I''m sorry-"


    "Shut up," Rade barked. He stood up with haste and walked away from him without turning back, leaving Andrei in disarray.


    It was his own fault, and brought this upon himself. However, he did not regret asking those questions; there was something he did not know, and he hated being left in the dark. Though now was certainly not the time for disagreements, and if Rade refused to help him further, then he shall find that damn artifact himself. As much as Andrei respected his travelling companion, he certainly did not want to waste precious time in consoling someone refusing to open up, when he could get ahead of his plans. But schemes could wait until the sun arose, and so Andrei did not wait for Rade that night. After devouring a warm bowl of porridge, he laid down to sleep hoping tomorrow would bring some clarity.


    ---------


    "Thou shouldst not leave that damn room!"


    Lord Hatchet spat with anger. He glared at his brother, seemingly unbothered by his outrage. Camly chewing on a piece of meat, Raghnall was more focused on eating his dinner than engaging with a man he bore no respect for. E¨®gan¨¢n was fuming since he came back from the speech, and his brother knew that his presence irritated him dearly. The Lord came to his room while he was having dinner and paced around like a lost dog looking for a treat. Raghnall did not exactly care about the Lord''s emotions or burst of rage, but more about how foolish Lord E¨®gan¨¢n was risking the lives of very young men all in the pursuit of power.


    When E¨®gan¨¢n rose to power, he had no goal in mind and was a simple lad who was cherished and cared for all his life. He never questioned their father''s blatant favouritism, and only assumed he was simply better than his brother. Their age did not differ much, however their personalities were completely opposite; when Raghnall was lost in books and arcane scriptures, E¨®gan¨¢n was training and fighting to become successor.


    Young Raghnall had no will to become next in line, as he wanted to live peacefully at the very least, and maybe become a hermit, if his father allowed. But when tragedy struck him, he became nothing more than a man who was looked down upon with pitiful looks.


    "Doth thou hear me?" shouted E¨®gan¨¢n once more.


    "I do, brother," calmly answered Raghnall.


    "So what do you say? You could apologise for the ridiculous scene you caused at the very least," he retorted.


    Raghnall put down the utensils he was using, and gawked at his brother.


    "Will you stop whining like a little child? Could you at least have the decency to act like an adult for once? What I did didn''t break any laws and did not tarnish the house''s reputation."


    Lord Hatchet marched to him in fury and grabbed his long ginger hair, pulling it upwards. Raghnall shrieked in pain, trying to reach the large hands of his brother, but the pain was too great and his hands too far. E¨®gan¨¢n kept pulling until his brother could not touch the ground, kicking away his wooden wheelchair. He cried in pain, asking his Lord brother to stop, to no avail.


    Raghnall''s butler threw himself at the Lord''s feet, begging for the release of his master, but E¨®gan¨¢n ignored him; he was watching his brother''s distress with hungry eyes, agitating his arms to try and get away from his grasp.


    Finally, Lord Hatchet released the hair he was holding, letting Raghnall fall on the ground heavily, holding his head. The pain was insufferable, tormenting the young man on the floor grinding his teeth.


    "Get up," the Lord commanded.


    Raghnall slowly scowled at his brother, his face mixed with pain and fury. E¨®gan¨¢n looked down at him with disgust.


    "Get up," he repeated, impatient.


    Raghnall looked around, and having found where his wheelchair ended up, started crawling towards it. His butler begged again for mercy, but received nothing but a glare and a spit in his face. E¨®gan¨¢n walked next to his brother crawling, whimpering in pain. As they got closer to the chair, the Lord went ahead of his brother and took the wheelchair and threw it across the room once more, breaking one of its wheels. Raghnall watched in horror as his brother crouched next to him, his eyes cold and impassive.


    "We are sticking to a plan. I win this war through your schemes, and I give you your freedom. Is that clear?"


    E¨®gan¨¢n calmly asked.


    Raghnall looked down, distraught. It was his only way to buy freedom, his only way to get out of this place.


    "Yes, Lord brother," he replied murmuring.


    Lord Hatchet smiled and got up, looking over at the mess he had caused.


    "What a nasty room," he exclaimed. "You really are clumsy these days brother. You should clean while you can."


    The Lord laughed and left the room, leaving Raghnall on the floor holding onto his aching head and desperation in his eyes.

 Imber

    A few weeks had passed since the pair had arrived at Dryfort. The nights were noisy in snores of tired men training and patrolling the fort, while the temperatures had significantly dropped making the evening a bit harder to endure.


    Andrei had started a very basic training for the body that he absolutely despised; he was never interested in physical appearance or brute force, finding his joy in dusty books and science. He found himself absolutely unfitting to such strict discipline. However, now was not a time to complain. Days were passing by, cold was slowly taking over the territory and the training would become more challenging. Andrei had wanted to find a way to some healers or medics of the place, but he was constantly rejected. Rade was, on the contrary, making himself valuable to the generals. He was in much better shape than Andrei, and he knew exactly what he was doing; reactive, always wanting to put in more work, it seemed as if he was never tired. But some nights Andrei would see him escape the underground barracks without a trace, only coming back at the first morning light.


    The two had briefly talked, as they were put in separate battalions, neither of them mentioning the outburst of Rade. Both had their mind elsewhere: one regarding the Howling Halls, and the other finding his target. Their different schedule resulted in them barely seeing each other but in the barracks; though even there they were too exhausted to speak properly, and being surrounded by noisy men made it hard to say anything in secrecy.


    One day, as Andrei was asked to sweep the courtyard, (the battalion chief realising he was not going to be of any use) he caught a glimpse of a butler who looked distraught, looking around frantically. The man had in hand a small piece of paper, which seemed to hold a list the butler did not quite understand. Sensing his frustration Andrei approached, willing to help him, but also realising he was someone who had access to the castle itself.


    "Is something the matter, kind sir?" he asked with a faint smile on his face. The butler turned to him, surprised, and started scratching his head.


    "Oh it is nothing, some herbs to acquire," he answered in a weak, trembling voice. Hearing this, Andrei widened his eyes.


    "Well sir, it so happens that I was a student of herbs myself a few years back; would you perhaps, be interested in my help? Clouds are starting to darken the sky, it would be a shame to not be able to collect your goods before the rain¡­"


    The butler looked at the sky, and his face now showed worry.


    "I do not have much time indeed," continued the man looking back at Andrei. "Do you swear on your life that you know the plants on this list?"


    The butler showed the list to Andrei who took a look at it with a serious face.


    "Hyssop, Motherwort, Burdock¡­ Yes yes, I do know them," replied Andrei, pensive. "I recall seeing them growing around, if we are lucky we should have returned within the hour."


    "So be it, I have no time to waste. I shall rely on you for this, for I have no knowledge in that field." said the butler with a stern look on his face. "Refer to me as Sir Colton."


    "Of course, sir," complied Andrei, slightly bowing.


    Sir Colton took the lead, leaving his broom behind, Andrei followed the man obediently. The inner court was quite empty on this cloudy day, as the only people out were the soldiers coming back from a patrol in the nearby forest. As they approached the main gate towering above them, they passed a troop of soldiers that just came back from the said forest. Andrei looked at them briefly and saw Rade who was chatting enthusiastically to another soldier; he could hear, however, Rade''s forced laugh and eyes devoid of interest in the conversation. Whatever he was using to gain his mate''s trust, it was working. Suddenly Rade''s eyes widened when he saw Andrei walking out the main gate, accompanied by a butler of all things, and he made a questioning face, raising an eyebrow.


    Andrei smirked and looked away, leaving him to his own assumptions. Some guards at the gates controlled Sir Colton briefly, before letting him pass without asking any questions. A slight wind passed through Andrei''s brown hair as they both left Dryfort, and he looked at the main road he took with Rade the first time they arrived here. Some merchants and horses were coming, probably seeking shelter before the start of the storm.


    "Follow me," sir Colton ordered.


    The butler took a steep path that cut through the trees. Andrei felt the air around him growing heavier, the humidity was getting more prominent as the minutes passed. The trees and bushes that covered the hills around Dryfort were of the brightest green, seemingly taken out of a beautiful painting. However the woods were disturbingly silent; the birds stopped chirping, rodents were hiding and somehow insects stood still unwilling to make a single sound. It was as if all living creatures were holding still, waiting for the storm to roll in at any moment.


    "My master told me this place was where he found most of his plants," explained sir Colton. "When the days are brighter and warmer I carry him all the way here."


    They had made their way to a small grove, surrounded by ancient trees and a small river passing through. Orange leafs were scattered on the ground, branches were denuded of their usual foliage, and calm reigned despite the menacing clouds. The grove held a peaceful atmosphere, untouched by mankind - anyone could sense the tranquillity, the serenity of that place the moment they stepped in. A gust of wind blew in Andrei''s direction, jolting him back to reality, as he was absorbed in the beauty of this little grove.


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    "Be quick," continued the butler. "All the herbs should be around that area."


    Andrei obliged, "Right away sir."


    He put himself to work immediately. As he was scouring the surroundings, kneeling down to examine each little herb, Andrei was having flashbacks of his time with Master Ikron. He very much enjoyed picking himself the raw materials he was going to use in his experiments. Like a cook crafting a new dish, Andrei always took time to gather his ingredients he was about to use in his new alchemical tests - something Master Ikron always pushed him to do.


    "So what''s your story?"


    Andrei turned his head to the butler, surprised he even wanted to make conversation. He did not trust the man yet, therefore he refrained from giving him the real story; although all the best lies have some truth in them.


    "I¡­ I used to be a scholar. Five years ago, before the comet arrived. After that all went astray, I ended up in a place I was not wanted¡­ And before I knew it, here I am."


    The butler looked at him with curiosity, raising an eyebrow.


    "Now that seems a little vague, what do you mean went astray?" questioned Colton again, as Andrei turned back picking out some Burdock he had managed to find.


    "I mean," started Andrei, "That the comet threw the world in disarray, and I happened to study alchemy, sir, so I was one of the first to understand its impact."


    "Oh? Did you manage to get close to an artifact at all?"


    "Absolutely not," laughed Andrei. "But my master became obsessed with the idea of making the Magnum Opus, and so he sent me to the capital to plead his studies and importance to the crown."


    "It seems you were someone important. How come you became a poor soldier in a place so reviled by the emperor?"


    Andrei sighed, handing out a pile of Burdock to the butler who took them carefully. He walked to another part of the grove and started picking other herbs.


    "When I came before the emperor, pleading my master''s intellect and importance to the research of the artifact, he listened and agreed. My master was summoned shortly after to aid in the experimentation of the relic."


    "Well you are a good student it seems-"


    "Once my master arrived, he denied my existence, and claimed I was a simple valet and not worth more than a commoner," interrupted Andrei in a low voice.


    Sir Colton was taken aback.


    "What do you mean?"


    Andrei stayed put for a bit, his heart tight with memories of his betrayal. Master Ikron, whom he always admired, felt no need in keeping a young student by his side when a monumental advancement of alchemy was within his reach. Ikron had dedicated his entire life to the arcane, and he had now a chance to resolve it and create perfection. He had not much time left, why waste it in teaching a young man full of life who still has many years to live?


    "I don''t know," Andrei lied. "After that, my master sold his domus and now resides in the palace from what I know. Since the crown had no use for a valet and my master referred to me as incompetent, I was thrown aside. I tried looking for some work, but being shunned by the crown didn''t really help, and I ended up becoming a beggar."


    A small silence followed. Far away the echo of a thunder resonated, and both men looked up to the louring sky, observing. Andrei got back to work without a word, snatching a pile of Motherwort and bringing it to the butler who was examining his demeanour.


    "A shame your knowledge was left out," pointed out sir Colton.


    "I guess I was not needed," answered Andrei coldly.


    Andrei did not want to reminisce about times that brought him pain. As far away as Lol?ne was, he did not forget the suffering he endured during his time in the capital. He had met friends, yes, but his life had turned for the worse; Andrei was afraid he was not able to hold books anymore - as it became a privilege to own one since the comet landed.


    The falling star made all books and scripts suddenly being summoned to the capital with the best alchemists, philosophers, researchers to help in trying to harness the immense power of an artifact. Since all these bright men and women stepped foot in Lol?ne, none was heard from again, although the crown assured they were all deep in research about the Great One and its gifts. Their silence though, was deafening; it was hard to believe that the brightest of citizens gathered around in one place had not communicated a word concerning the relic.


    "And finally Hyssop, we got everything sir," said Andrei, handing out the rest of the herbs.


    Colton took the plants with him, looking at the tired face of a young man who lost a lot. He saw how his tired green eyes were filled with anger, his drawn face bearing regret and guilt. But someone knowledgeable like him would be a dead weight in the army, unable to correctly hold a sword. The butler suddenly thought of something.


    A slight rain began to fall.


    "Let us go," said Colton in a stern voice.


    They both took the same path back, walking slowly so none of them would slip on the moist grass. None uttered a word, only wanting to go back to some warmth before the rain intensified. Finally the muddy path led to the main road, where no soul was to be seen and they both rushed through the gates, heading to the great halls deep inside the inner court. Horses filled the empty space, merchants sitting all around the courtyard, already drinking ale to keep themselves warm.


    As both approached the great halls Andrei slowled down and slightly bowed.


    "Thank you for trusting me with this sir, I shall go back to the barracks now," he said his head still down before the butler.


    Sir Colton looked at him, and gazed at the sky, seeing as the rain was getting heavier by the minute.


    "You''re coming with me young man, no questions asked. You shall meet someone that you may relate to, at least a little bit."


    The butler rushed to the great halls, delicate doors seemingly separating two distinct worlds: the ones who had a choice, and the ones who suffered from it.

 Pater

    ¡°We have an answer, your Grace! The Hatchets have responded!¡±


    A young messenger dressed in ragged clothes ran behind a panicked valet through the refined halls of the Imperial Palace. He held a large box decorated with a red ribbon, a beautiful gift that he was given at the border of the Hatchet territory with the only order to deliver it as soon as possible. Many maids and workers made way for the two, trotting towards the throne room where the emperor was receiving his court.


    The tall and imposing red doors slowly opened for them, a tense silence greeting them as the valet tried to contain his anxious face with a polite smile, devoid of sincerity. Hayden Miramond sat on his golden throne, his daughters at his side, and his court filling the space between the door and his grand seat. All turned their curious eyes to the worried valet and the messenger who was more interested in the package he was carrying than the people glancing at them with judgmental eyes.


    ¡°Wouldst thou truly want to make thy emperor wait? Come then, deliver to me the submission of this barbarian house.¡±


    Small chuckles spread among the court. Hayden spoke with authority, a deep voice that resonated in the great throne hall, pushing the two men to swiftly walk to him. The court was filled with extravagant gowns and suits, faces painted with a pearly white powder, hair dyed blond or formidable high and ridiculous wigs honouring the emperor''s legacy. Golden hair was a symbol of perfection, the colour of the noble metal bringing order in a grim world of chaos - maybe it was a sufficient reason for the nobles to not rebel, seeing in this family a chance to hold more power than ever before.


    Arriving near the stairs, the valet bowed deeply, nearly folding in half, and spoke with a shaky voice.


    ¡°Your Grace. I shall open the package.¡±


    ¡°Not you,¡± interrupted the emperor with a cold voice. ¡°Him,¡± he pointed at the tired and poor messenger who widened his eyes at these words. He bowed, and started to carefully open the package, unfolding the red ribbon delicately to not damage the gift.


    A heavy silence followed, with curious people trying to catch a glimpse of the scene, wondering what the box could contain. Sitting next to her father, Margo looked at the gift with suspicious eyes, having never seen such regard in a message from the Hatchets.The house usually responded coldly with no care for proper etiquette, and the response was brief leaving no further discussion whatsoever - if they could respond with either ¡°yes¡± or ¡°no¡±, they would.


    The messenger gulped once, a sudden fear taking over him as he prudently opened the lid. The second he removed the top, a foul smell spread rapidly around the hall, forcing people to cover their mouth and nose.


    ¡°What could possibly be-¡± started Eliza, tearing up from the putrid odour emanating from the box.


    Margo stood up trying to get a closer look, as the messenger let out a cry of fright dropping the present on the floor. Rolled out of it dismembered arms and hands filled with maggots and dried blood. Eliza screamed in horror, as many others joined her witnessing the roughly chopped body rotting away before their eyes. The valet curled up in disgust, holding his mouth to prevent him from vomiting and Margo stood frozen in fear - this was the very first time she saw a dead body. A few women in the crowd fainted from the shock, bringing the assembly into a panic.


    A soldier rushed to the box to examine more of its content, and pulled out a decapitated head missing its eyes, looking extremely pale; offended screams greeted his action, as all recoiled as far as they could from the box.


    ¡°The mole, your Grace!¡± he exclaimed.


    ¡°Put that away you fool!¡± Hayden retorted severely, rising from his seat. ¡°Eliza my dear, get an escort back to your chambers¡­ And open these damn windows you useless imbeciles!¡±


    Maids and valets swiftly unlocked the grand windows in a desperate attempt to ventilate the great hall. The emperor faintly signed to get soldiers to escort his favourite daughter, and ordered that the court leave the hall in this instant. Cries and weeps slowly made their way out the hall, leaving a few people inside; only Margo remained, her father and the messenger as well as a few soldiers. A heavy silence reigned, and Hayden walked slowly to the tired man who was horrified and disgusted. The eyes of the emperor gazed at him coldly, seemingly unbothered by the maggots now crawling on the ground.


    ¡°I-I knew nothing, your Grace! The package was handed to me, I swear on my life! Have mercy!¡± pleaded the messenger desperately, kneeling down before the emperor.


    Hayden stopped a few steps away from him, looking down at the poor man petrified to be accused of doing this purposely.


    ¡°I barely slept your Grace, only changed horses to deliver it as fast as I can¡­ Solely stopped to drink or eat - I am begging thee, I know nothing of this!¡± he continued with a shaky voice.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    ¡°Who handed you the package?¡± spoke the emperor sternly.


    ¡°A man, I did not see his face. He paid me handsomely.¡±


    Hayden took the sword of one of the soldiers and threatened the messenger, who cried in fear.


    ¡°You remember nothing?¡±


    ¡°His cape covered his face, your Grace¡­ But he had a scar on his right hand, I believe.¡±


    The emperor smiled slightly, satisfied.


    ¡°Good. Mayhaps thou art not as foolish as it seems.¡±


    The messenger was relieved, got teary and greatly thanked his saviour, kissing his boots. Tears rolled down his cheeks, and nothing in this world could have made him happier than this very moment.


    Hayden pierced his skull in an instant. Blood instantly splurged on the ground and Margo let out a muffled cry, covering her mouth. The soldiers stood silently trying to process what happened, as the valet shook in fear, mumbling some prayers.


    ¡°Throw him to the hounds, and clean the floor right away,¡± commanded the emperor, pulling the sword out of the messenger¡¯s head.


    The few soldiers immediately obliged, some gathering the body parts and stuffing them back in the box, and others picking up the limp body of the poor man who got killed for a bit of money. Margo watched, frozen in place watching this surreal scene happening before her eyes. She knew her father was ruthless, but he coldly murdered that poor man just doing his work. He probably wanted this money to feed himself, or a family. Who knows. Yet everything ended with a simple swing of a sword.


    ¡°Margo.¡±


    She jolted back, a worried look painted across her face. Her mind rushed to a million places, trying to think about all the mindless possibilities he could ask her, do to her or make her do things for his sake. Margo has always been casted to the side, giving the spotlight to her older siblings; she was the result of an unwanted pregnancy and therefore never received the love and care of her family. The Empress-Consort was nothing but a shell of what she once was after her birth, and her father disregarded her existence the moment she gasped for air for the first time.


    Margo was afraid of her father, or more of what she will have to endure next to not be a bother. Will she end up with a sword piercing through her head too? Or will he send her to rot away in her chambers once again until she tries to escape for god knows how many times?


    Hayden lowered his gaze from her frightened face to slowly walk away towards the grand doors.


    ¡°Throw her to the oubliettes.¡±


    The valet looked at him with shock.


    ¡°But your Grace, she will turn three and twenty in two days¡­¡±


    ¡°It matters not,¡± Hayden replied coldly. ¡°I¡¯ve tried marrying her more than once but even then Lords refuse to take her hand - or they would if she wore a mask to hide her grotesque face.¡±


    Soldiers dropped the rotting corpse rushing to Margo seizing her while she was frozen in shock, unable to fight back. She was aware that her father never acknowledged her, but sending her to die was beyond what she was expecting. Here she was, going to be thrown in a ditch narrow enough for one standing adult with the only source of light being a trap high above her. Even her screams won¡¯t ever reach the surface, for her prison will be far below the earth. Tears welled up in her eyes, as a sensation of injustice washed over her. Margo has never asked to be born, and yet all hated her for it. Why was her life so unfair and miserable, when she never wished to be here? Why her? She felt a lump in her throat as the soldiers tied her hands behind her back.


    A grumbling rage rose up from her stomach. She grinned her teeth in anger and tears flowed out. Margo could feel her heart pumping harder in her chest, her blood boiled in fury as her breath ran short.


    ¡°Why so late, father?¡± she yelled out across the hall, taking the few men present by surprise. ¡°Why only throw me now to my death when you could¡¯ve choked me as a newborn? Why let me eat, sleep, and grow up just for me to feel abandoned and unwanted?¡±


    Hayden stopped in his tracks, listening to her rant. Her voice was breaking and growling like an animal, while her brown eyes had narrowed in anger.


    ¡°I loathe you,¡± she barked, a voice daring for him to reciprocate her wrath. The Emperor glanced back, not bothering to even turn around to face her, and answered in a disinterested voice.


    ¡°And I do not hate you.¡± Margo widened her eyes at his words. ¡°How could I, when you were nothing to begin with?¡±


    Silence. Margo¡¯s face turned to distress.


    ¡°What-¡± she murmured.


    Hayden looked away. ¡°I thought I could send you away once you first bled to some hungry noble for young flesh, but it turns out you never did. You can¡¯t even do what a woman is born for,¡± he chuckled, as he walked once again towards the door. ¡°From this moment on, you ceased being my daughter. Even a pig has more value than you.¡±


    She watched as her own father exited the room in silence. The valet looked at her with pity but refused to speak, for it was not his place. Even the soldiers behind her were startled by the conversation. Margo dropped her head, defeated. Yet within her, a deep fury was fueling her thoughts, screeching in her mind words of death and revenge. So be it, she thought, I shall show you all how loud a pig can squeal.


    ¡°Well take me then!¡± she said sharply.


    The soldiers holding her started marching forward, dragging her down the stairs, as the valet watched powerless. His eyes met with hers on her way out, and, ashamed, he looked away. When the doors closed behind them, the man was left with a rotting corpse and a fresh one wondering how he was going to find sleep tonight.

 Rubrum

    Although the facade of the fort and its castle seemed cold and uninviting, its interior was absolutely ravishing. Stone built, the structure harbored a refined taste for art and tapestry as well as military gear, displayed in many halls and rooms. Andrei found himself lost in the many items decorating the place, surprised and amazed by the beautiful architecture of the edifice.


    The young man followed Sir Colton without a word, slightly shivering as the rain seeped through his clothes. Each doorway and entrance he passed was carved into the stone with a beautiful archway, intricately sculpted with sylvan motifs. Andrei wondered if this fort has always been one, or changed from its initial purpose to anticipate the threat of the Emperor. Even if rallying every single house in one Empire is realistically impossible, it was another thing to mount an army to go against it - and even despite many talks to reduce the tension, the Hatchets kept going forward with their plan.


    The halls were all silent, guards and maids refusing to utter a single word. Andrei could sense some tension, but could not understand its source. And so he observed, the great tapestries depicting The Great One¡¯s hands over humanity; ghastly and cold, Its fingers hovering over mankind menacingly. In this Andrei could not see why the cult of The Great was still heavily practiced: to him it inspired fear, not adoration. It looked as if the Hatchets were religious people after all, as every piece of art was another portraying the miracles of many saints and martyrs of which Andrei forgot the name of. As an Alchemist he researched the occult, not an intangible belief relying on blind faith; was what he would think before all of this happened.


    The whole conflict was very confusing still. Artifacts had appeared yet no one saw them, it was reported they held great power, yet never displayed. Andrei was starting to doubt their existence as well but he had nothing to lose, and if the entire thing ended up being nothing but a grand hoax, then at least he could make some money by exposing it.


    When they arrived at a hall, greater than all the rooms they¡¯ve passed, Andrei¡¯s eyes shone in excitement. Despite all the religious items meticulously disposed before, this hall seemed to have preserved its original owner¡¯s beliefs. On the stone roof painted in a deep blue was a magnificent depiction of a dragon holding the moon between his gigantic maws, the sun above him, and the earth gripped between its claws. Inside the sun was depicted the first three components of the Philosopher¡¯s Stone: Nigredo, Albedo and Citrinas. And the very last step, the last element that gave its renown red glow was held in between the earth, within the dragon¡¯s clutch. Rubedo was the spirit, the soul of the world, trapped in between the doubts of man yet within its reach.


    ¡°Hurry,¡± Sir Colton pressed him, forcing Andrei to detach his eyes from the beautiful painted ceiling.


    Together they climbed stairs delicately carved, reinforcing the thought of this place being taken over by necessity. Passing paintings of former family members, Andrei couldn¡¯t help but imagine what this place would have looked like before. An Alchemist Fort perhaps, for this was not the Hatchets main castle, simply a stronghold. Maybe someone in the history of the Hatchets was a fellow chemist, occultist, researching arcane subjects. He could picture the halls and rooms filled with elixirs and plants from around the world, gathered in one castle.


    In one of the highest points of the fort, the path became wooden, the stairs less intricate, and the silence even more deafening. It almost felt like the entire place was completely empty. They arrived at a small corridor that led to a single wooden door at its end, where shadows of burning candles escaped through its cracks. Sir Colton signed him to stay put, as he grabbed the doorknob and entered without knocking, closing it behind.


    Andrei could vaguely hear the conversation. The butler¡¯s voice was clear, although the one answering was a bit more shy, mumbling words in return. Colton talked about the plants, the help he received and after a brief exchange that bore some pleading in his voice, he opened the door to Andrei.


    The young man entered slowly, unsure of what to expect or see. Maybe an old man that liked to brew medicine or elixirs, forgotten high up in the tower of the Hatchets. As he came into the room, a flood of familiar scents and sounds engulfed him. Suddenly he felt like he stepped foot inside his old master¡¯s laboratory. Noises of bubbling pots, flasks and glass bottles filling the shelves against the wall. The smell of freshly cut herbs and jasmin, combining with the light aroma of dried rosemary hanging down against the wall. So many colorful stones gathered on a table next to a stone mortar, ready to be crushed into powder. His green eyes finally met with a figure that sat near a window on a crimson sofa, gazing at him with an uninterested look. When Andrei observed their long ginger hair he quickly bowed, afraid to have caused disrespect for losing himself to the familiar environment, and forgetting proper etiquette.


    ¡°And you are?¡± a voice arose. It was a kind, gentle voice veiled with a sadden tone.


    When Andrei straightened up he soon recognized the face before him. It was the person that stood next to Lord Hatchet, ridiculing his entire speech by showing up unannounced. Flustered, he bowed again.


    ¡°Madam. I am just a simple man under your command.¡±


    Sir Colton''s face went pale, as his master widened his eyes before bursting out laughing. Andrei looked towards them once again in confusion, unsure of what he had said was a matter of pleasantry.


    ¡°Apologise right this instant!¡± urged the butler with an offended tone, while his master was waving at him to be at ease, still chuckling.


    ¡°It is quite alright Colton, do not fault him.¡±


    Andrei realised his mistake as he observed who he was talking to. It was a man in fact, betrayed by his voice more or less, but his feminine features could deceive anyone at first glance.


    ¡°I deeply apologise, my Lord, I did not realise.¡± Andrei said with remorse.


    ¡°Do not call me ¡®my Lord'' for I hold no such title, but Raghnall is my name.¡±


    Raghnall wore a used nightshirt that fell down to his feet. He looked tired, his blue eyes tarnished by the lack of sleep and his long ginger hair shriveled from the stress. Andrei noticed that his lips were dry, and his overall body was very skinny. When his gaze lowered to his legs, he frowned unconsciously.


    ¡°You pity me?¡± Raghnall observed raising an eyebrow. Andrei shook his head.


    ¡°No. I just think about all the stairs I just climbed and how difficult it must be when you wish to go out,¡± he let out sadly. Raghnall looked away for a moment trying to hide his emotions, before grabbing some of the herbs Andrei picked out with the butler.


    ¡°These are beautiful. At their prime, nonetheless. Thank you for helping Colton, I¡¯m afraid he isn¡¯t very knowledgeable about plants, but he tries at least.¡±


    ¡°It was a pleasure,¡± muttered Andrei with a slight smile. ¡°And I could leave the barracks for a little excursion, so I was more than happy to do it.¡±


    While Andrei spoke to the crippled young man, he wondered why he got locked away and refused to be called a Lord. From appearance only, it was easy to see that Lord E¨®gan¨¢n and Raghnall were indeed brothers, but it felt as if Raghnall was an outsider in his own family. As much as Andrei needed to access the Howling Halls for his own benefit, he questioned if this person that seemingly held no power could be useful at all.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    Raghnall smiled at the plants before shifting his focus to Colton who was standing back, observing the scene and especially Andrei with suspicious eyes.


    ¡°Could you bring us some camomille please? I am in dire need of a hot beverage.¡±


    ¡°Right away,¡± the butler obliged, stepping out of the room, not without glancing at Andrei one last time.


    A silence fell into the room, although it was not a displeasing one. Andrei let his gaze wander on the many alchemical tools he once used, his green eyes shining with excitement.


    ¡°Grab a chair, please,¡± insisted Raghnall, pointing at the desk where flasks were boiling on a tiny flame.


    Andrei grabbed a wooden chair that was in a rough shape, a thin yellow cloth wrapped around its seat. Facing Raghnall he waited, unsure if he was allowed to speak first, as he began to observe the cripple¡¯s face darken.


    ¡°You are knowledgeable,¡± he stated, his voice stern. ¡°I cannot bring myself to believe you are here to simply hold a sword and fight a war you know nothing about.¡±


    Andrei stiffened.


    ¡°Although you are a liar, you do not seem stupid enough not to give out some truths about yourself. But you do not strike me as a manipulator, unfortunately. Now you have gone out of your way to help Colton and it benefited you; so, what do you seek?¡± Raghnall continued coldly.


    This man had managed to see right through him. Andrei knew he wasn¡¯t the finest liar but to understand so much about a person you just met was a bit unsettling. He smiled nervously. There is no point stirring this over, he thought.


    ¡°The Howling Halls. A friend of mine is kept down there.¡±


    Raghnall frowned, and threw the plants at him in a rage.


    ¡°Do not lie to my face!¡± he yelled out. ¡°I am sick and tired of being deceived!¡±


    Andrei widened his eyes in surprise. He was definitely not expecting such a reaction. As he started picking some of the herbs that fell on the floor, he thought about a way to describe what he was looking for without being thrown into prison. While it was hard for him to tell the truth, this man clearly knew something was wrong with him, and made it hard to come to a solution.


    ¡°I just don¡¯t want to be killed,¡± explained Andrei. ¡°What I want is so foolish I do not expect to be believed¡­Or trusted.¡±


    Raghnall calmed down slightly, and listened to Andrei that had lowered his gaze.


    ¡°I want to stop this chase for power. These artifacts-¡±


    ¡°You want to destroy the relics?¡± Raghnall cut him in disbelief. ¡°Annihilate the only potential source to produce the Philosopher¡¯s Stone? And here I thought you cared about every Alchemist¡¯s dream, seeing your face lit up at the sight of my tools.¡±


    Andrei chuckled nervously, flustered.


    ¡°Of course I want to see the Philosopher¡¯s Stone. But¡­I am incredibly selfish. These artifacts brought every man and woman of intellect to be overcome with greed and power, and I sometimes find myself wishing they never existed. Although this Empire wasn¡¯t the most prosperous, you could find contentment and build a family. Now the people are starving, the citizens neglected and an obsession for these relics and their properties are plaguing the ones that hold power.¡±


    ¡°Oh, a hero? I expected better. So you¡¯ve come to this place to rob the relic so you can free your people?¡± chuckled Raghnall, seemingly unimpressed. ¡°Even if all that you have said is true, I just don¡¯t really think you care about the people that much¡­ Do you?¡±


    Andrei remained silent, glowering at him. It was hard to admit that even if seeing people suffering made him feel guilty, he knew that he would not go out of his way to help them. It¡¯s not like I know them, he told himself. He was a selfish man, and always had been thinking this way as far as he could remember, even when he could¡¯ve saved lives. Like the time his puppy drowned in a lake near his house as a child, and couldn¡¯t bring himself to save him not wanting to get scolded for being soaked. He cried about its death for a few days, and then got a cat from a neighbour''s litter. Andrei never really cared.


    ¡°Even if I do not care, I still hold feelings,¡± he pointed out.


    ¡°I know,¡± replied Raghnall, his face understanding. ¡°So, if I manage to grant you the access to the Howling Halls, and you can face the relic and take it for yourself, what will you do next?¡±


    ¡°I wish to gather them all, and use them all at once.¡±


    Raghnall sighed, rolling his eyes.


    ¡°What for? You might die just after taking one.¡±


    Andrei got up and walked around the room to a bookshelf that was on the brink of collapse, looking for something specific. Even if the cult of The Great One was to him nothing but an excuse to pay for more extravagant churches to praise their Lord, their ancient history held a lot of interesting facts that have been used by many occultists and alchemists for their work. Philosophers too found material to be discussed in the early days of the cult. After shuffling through the shelf, he found one book with a black hardcover with a gilded symbol of a tangled snake harboring a lion head.


    ¡°There.¡±


    Raghnall gazed at him with curious eyes. Everyone had a copy of the saint book of The Great One¡¯s cult, but he never bothered finishing it, finding its content repetitive and not very interesting. Andrei riffled through its pages until he found what he was looking for, and cleared his voice.


    ¡°Prophecy thirteen: From the four quadrants of the world shall come forward four kings, called upon by our Lord, praise thee, to carry its blessed Tear. Graced be the red star, illuminating the earth with Your unconditional love. O rejoice! The Great One gift shall be the salvation of mankind. The four kings become one, blessed by our Lord benevolence, to rule by his command.¡±


    Raghnall raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°And you can read too? You are full of surprises-¡±


    ¡°From the Red King shall rise the stone, the mighty Tear, graced by our Lord - praise thee - to reign as the God of the people and ordinary men.¡±


    Andrei turned to sit back to his chair, the book still open between his hands. Raghnall bore a confused look.


    ¡°I¡¯ve read this passage,¡± he started, eyes doubtful. ¡°It is known that this section is one of the many ones describing a red tear, a red star, a red stone; although it is questionable why a religious book would go lengths to talk about what is the closest description of the Philosopher¡¯s Stone, why would that paragraph be more important than others?¡±


    ¡°Because nowhere else in the book the ¡®Four kings¡¯ are mentioned, " argued Andrei. ¡° It¡¯s a part I studied too much for my own liking, and it''s the only time where these ¡®Four Kings¡¯ become one to create a God, seemingly holding the blessed Tear. How I see this passage is the culmination of the alchemical compound to produce the Philosopher''s Stone. The ¡®Red King¡¯ is implied to be the stone, or the stone implied to be the ¡®Tear¡¯, making it all three the simple result of the four kings rallying into one. It is science turned into a divine prophecy.¡±


    Raghnall observed him, silent. Leaning against the wall, he glanced by the window where the rain had stopped, and the cloudy sky was welcoming the night. Saying it that way, yes it made sense, but part of him was convinced that the Philosopher''s Stone was a tangible substance, a powder or liquid that was the epitome of Alchemy. Something reachable by transmutation, by trials of errors and small victories, leading to humanity finding perfection through natural process. Although Raghnall blamed himself for not being more open minded towards a religious book, he could not outright say that he disagreed with this logic.


    ¡°So be it,¡± he let out in a sigh, making Andrei hopeful. ¡°I shall try something. But if you get caught, I will deny your existence.¡±


    Andrei nodded. This was better than what he had expected from someone so close to Lord Hatchet.


    ¡°May I ask why are you willing to help?¡± questioned Andrei as he closed the book.


    Raghnall detached his gaze from the outside to look at him with eyes that had lost all sense of hope. The more days passed, the more freedom seemed out of reach. Even if he planned the most elaborate strategy despite the odds being stacked against them, E¨®gan¨¢n was never satisfied. He had given up so many nights, scratching his brain to find the best possible solution to gain his freedom, but nothing worked. And now, he was too tired to care about his fate.


    ¡°I have nothing to lose,¡± he murmured.


    Andrei smirked and chuckled to himself. Neither do I.

 Carcer

    Despair. No other words would best describe a soul that lost its sanity, its purpose and its hope.


    Days had passed, although it was impossible to count how many. Guards sometimes would throw water down the dark pit, awaking the thirsty young woman at its bottom. Her body would violently shake from the splash of the freezing liquid, and she would sit up and lick the floor and side of her thin prison to drink as much as she could.


    Margo had lost sense of time, sense of will. Her mind wandered aimlessly, memories of a time long past blending in a thick fog that made it impossible to focus on a thought. Sometimes the sight of a conversation between her mother and herself would surface, watching the scene like a spectator unable to intervene. At first, the discussion was nothing but mumbles, whispers echoing all around her as she began to push herself forward, leaning in to try and understand it better.


    Her mother, of whom she had forgotten the face, was sitting in her room near her bed, looking down at Margo who was just a child playing with dressing dolls. It was a calm, tender memory which brought the young woman a feeling of yearning, wishing to live in this souvenir eternally. Margo only stayed with her mother in her early years of life, being disregarded slightly after she turned 10 - she was confined in her room ever since.


    Her mother¡¯s warm eyes gazed upon her daughter with a caring look on her face, content and happy to watch her child play innocently. She opened her mouth to speak to her little one, but a violently loud squeal came out instead. Margo¡¯s visions blurred, as every word her mother utter was nothing but the deafening acute scream of a pig, resonating in her mind. She watched as her younger self got up and spoke in return, only to hear the same cacophony. The ear-shattering noise shook her awake, and curled up, she would be unable to regain sleep.


    That¡¯s all she could dream about, her mother and herself squealing. A memory she had long  forgotten before her imprisonment, yet tried to grasp nonetheless as it was the only thing keeping her sane. Her appetite had greatly diminished, only being given rotten apples to nibble on; even though soon enough the guards too will forget to feed her. The scent of urine and feces paired with the rotting food she received gave her nausea more time than she would admit; as time passed however, she could no longer tell the difference. Light rarely graced her face, only seeing the shadows of flames casted on the stone walls, alerting her that food might be served. But sometimes they would skip her, and she would go to sleep starving. It is how it began, one day they would forget and soon she would be forgotten.


    Screaming was useless, for all the guards assigned to the deepest parts of the dungeon were deaf. Some, though, would still shout and howl in distress, like a pleading dog waiting to be fed - all calls went unanswered however, and so were prayers. When Margo was first thrown in her pit, she spent the first nights listening to the echoing words of worship that the other incarcerated men would preach. She tried to speak to someone, anyone she believed was near her vertical prison, but no one bothered answering. Mumbles of cries, whispers of praises to The Great One scattered the dark alleys of the dungeon; some women were talking to no one, like an inner monologue everyone could hear.


    That¡¯s what she had been living in, a jail where everyone was slowly surrendering themselves to madness. Maybe herself too, she sometimes hoped, so her mind could trick her into thinking that maybe it was not such an awful way to end her life. Margo would comfort herself in the idea that the people of this empire were suffering much more than her, until she would need to relieve herself in this little confined space. During those moments she cried in anger and frustration, cursing her family into oblivion.


    Margo had tried climbing, though the walls of her prison were covered in oil and constantly wet, making it too slippery to hold on to. Desperate, she was slowly giving up, despite having such rage boiling inside her. Her brown eyes would look up to the entrance of her cell, wondering if anything had changed since she was thrown in there. Margo knew that her presence had always gone unnoticed, always being brought to events purely based on the nobility standards, her family unwilling to bring bad attention to the turmoil behind closed doors. She realised how passive she had been, how she could have fought for her place within her own blood yet never did - maybe it was her way of rebelling, not comforting into what people expected a young woman to react, to please her way in and gain sympathy. From a young age she had always refused to charm men, abiding by the laws of the female implemented by men dimmed wise enough to impose the worth of her gender to the world. Maybe this was ultimately her curse, unable to birth children; trapped and hidden away like a kind of horrifying beast that did not deserve to breathe. Part of her was glad: she would rather die now than to submit to anyone.


    She would vehemently curse her father who never bothered raising her, her sister who only treated her as a nuisance and her brother who was too afraid to step up and defend his kin. Time was losing its course, and it became harder and harder to count days passing. Slowly, amidst the moans and cries of other dying men and women she would hear a faint chant. It sounded like a hum at first, but when the dungeon was silent she could clearly hear people singing, a choir perhaps, that resonated through the walls of the palace.


    Margo found peace in this melody. It was calm, gentle, and she would fall asleep listening to the echoes of these angelic voices singing tenderly.


    All of the sudden, a warm liquid poured over her head and she jolted awake. Soup, she immediately thought, thinking she smelled boiling carrots before waking up. Leaning against the wall so she could get up and stretch her legs she opened her mouth, delighted to have some warm consomm¨¦, probably a leftover from a past dinner. She thought how Eliza never liked soup, and most likely ordered for it to be taken away.


    The moment the liquid touched her tongue she spat it out sharply, her face twisted in disgust. She coughed and gagged as much as she could, and horrified that the liquid kept pouring over her head, she lifted her eyes to the small gate of her cell. A guard gazed back in amusement, a bright smile on his lips as he kept relieving himself. Margo screamed and shouted at him to stop, as the man looked at her seemingly entertained by her reaction - although all he could see was a girl gesticulating, opening and closing her mouth frantically. He guessed she was yelling, but he could not hear a thing, and so he kept at it until he was empty.


    Margo desperately tried to remove the pee from her dirty blond hair, vainly. Warm tears welled up in her eyes, and for a brief moment she swore she could hear the choir singing louder. For a little while she remained standing, shocked and defeated, as she looked straight to the wall before her, unable to form a single thought. When her legs finally had no more energy, she sat down on the little space that was available, and hugging her legs dozed off as she listened to the chants growing closer. She would hum the repeating melody, and would imagine herself singing alongside the beautiful choir, until her misery would be swept away. Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    Everytime that she would wake up, the choir sang louder. All the times that she was not fed or received water, the choir would sing louder. She did not mind however, as she hummed along all day and all night long. Her frail and skinny body could barely stand anymore - when her eyes observed her hands, she could barely recognise them. It felt as if her fingers grew longer and thinner, and the bones would pluck out at any given moment. Margo would hum while moving her arms in the air, thinking of herself dancing with a partner to this haunting melody blaring through the walls of the dungeon. Soon enough, she did not bother licking on the walls for water or nibbling on rotten apples. She would sit there, humming along the choir that now grew deafening. The only thing she could hear were these angelic voices chanting in pure harmony: Margo felt at peace, unplagued by the feeling of vengeance. And as soon as she fell asleep, she would see herself dancing along the notes, as she would get out of her cell crawling like a snake, and gracefully leap around the dark dungeon like a ballet dancer, uncaring of what would happen to her.


    Margo would dream of herself passing the guards, as they cheered her up to continue spinning gracefully. She would make her way downwards, in places of the palace she didn''t even know existed; every person she would encounter would dance and clap their hands, enchanted by her movements. All worries were irrelevant, as only the haunting choir mattered to her. Descending into the darkness through stairs illuminated by dazzling colors she would twirl and prance, happiness of freedom enveloping her warmly. Her body would pass many knights and men that would brightly smile and bow at her, while she danced around humming with the choir.


    She would pass countless doors and rooms she had never seen, people she did not recognize yet all danced with her - it seemed that even the fire on torches would spin around as she went by. All places she entered would be brighter than the one before, the long corridors filled with paintings singing, clapping at her passionate movements. Margo felt lighter, as every leap she took seemed to make her jump into another part of the dungeon. Down her steps would take her, and soon enough she grew closer to the choir she so long sang to. Her heart pounding in her chest with excitement, she would stop before a door layered with beautiful ribbons and colourful silk laces. On her tiptoes she¡¯d jump swiftly, hearing the voices chanting right behind that door. With a graceful movement of her hands she would grab the metallic handle, and slowly push it forward, anticipating the marvelous choir performing their beautiful song¡­And she would open her eyes.


    Margo stared for a moment in front of her, a darkness engulfing all she could lay eyes on. She sensed her feet being drenched in a warm substance, as she realised that she was standing straight up. Puzzled, her body wobbled, unable to identify where she stood while her mind was trying to rationalise what was happening before panic could take over. It was nearly impossible to see anything, and while her vision adjusted she slowly paced around with uncertainty, confirming that she was indeed not in her cell.


    None of this made sense. Was it possible that during her sleep she was let out, or at least put in a normal cell? The floor under her feet felt cold and wet, and the room she now was in appeared humid and vast. Margo could sense that this place was much bigger than what she could make it out to be, and she suddenly noticed something alarming: the chants were completely gone. Her heart started pounding, the silence exemplifying its beating through her chest as her lips shivered feeling the cold crawling in her body.


    She needed these voices to sing so desperately. Her will had clung to the haunting melody through the bottom of her pit, and the comfort of humming this chant made her forget that she slept in her own feces, drank teardrops of water left on the oily walls, and endure the annoying cries of pain and misery that filled the dungeon. Margo slowly lifted her head up, humming once more, praying that all she had heard was not the start of her own insanity.  Her skinny legs walked painfully, on the verge of collapsing under the famine and exhaustion she was in - and yet through the pain she kept moving, waiting for the choir to sweetly sing to her ears once more.


    Her scrawny fingers waved around in the void, resembling a lost ghost wandering in the bottomless abyss of stone walls and metallic prisons. At a certain point her voice cracked, and stopping in her tracks she covered her head in disbelief. It suddenly felt like she could hear properly, almost as if her ears popped from being underwater for too long. It came to her attention that a thumping noise echoed around her - a muffled sound of a slow beating heart that she had not picked up before starting to hum. Margo let up hands around her neck brushing it softly as she began to sing slightly louder, in hopes of guiding her feet to this low pulsating sound. The moment the first notes left her mouth she stopped, confused. Frowning, she faintly shook her head and sang again, only to stop once more. This time, her face twisted in terror and shock, as she tightened her grasp around her neck.


    Her brown eyes widened in horror as she came to realise that she was not singing or humming. In fact, she never was: Margo has been moaning and howling in pain. This entire time, she had been screaming in agony, thinking she was singing a song. What she thought was a choir was instead hundreds and hundreds of men and women crying and yelling in pain and despair. But how could she hear something that grew so loud overtime? How could she ever mistake the screams of misery to a beautiful song?


    A loud thud. Margo¡¯s head tilted to her right, gazing in the darkness trying to make out what made this sound. The beating heart was now louder, more rapid, as if someone suddenly started running. Voices arose. All mixed and twisted in one another, a cacophony resonating all around the room. Man and woman crying, moaning in distress, pleading. Some words were comprehensible, but most were just groans and shouts of different intensity. All, though, were in despair.


    That was what she heard, the choir. The chants. The angelic voices.


    They were all screams of agony.


    She began to weakly walk to what she thought was where the voices came from. A very dimmed light shone more as she approached, taking the odd shape of an egg. Cries of terror and pain doubled in intensity - the more she walked to it, the more the shrieks and whimpers would grow deafening. Margo however, paid no mind to the sounds as she was staring straight at the strange object that seemingly called to her. The pulsing noise felt familiar, gentle, sweet, like a newborn sleeping soundly. When the object was within her reach she stopped, observing it more intensely while the screams blared out like a thousand people being tortured in the same room.


    The surface of the egg was smooth yet looked tough, it was a material she had never laid her eyes on before. It looked like the thinnest silk, yet seemed harder than steel. A faint dark blue glow emanated from it, and the size of it could be compared to that of a cat curled up. Her whole body demanded to seize the egg, her eyes shining with anticipation. She wanted to hold it so dearly, and a strange excitement buzzed inside of her as she approached her skinny fingers to its surface. Margo felt entranced by the object, her body was shaking with exhilaration, a sudden happiness taking over her as she abruptly snatched the object and pressed it against her chest.


    The voices ceased in an instant. Only remained her, a heavy silence and her egg. It felt warm, comforting and Margo found herself smiling with joy. She did not understand why she was feeling such bliss holding an object that she had never seen before. But here she was, happy.


    Until the egg started pushing into her body like an earthworm digging through the soil.

 Opertus

    Dryfort seemed to crumble under the heavy amounts of snow falling everyday, offering a beautiful scenery to any painter willing to sit through the cold. Men kept training despite the winter weather, using the opportunity to strengthen the weaker soldiers. Forced to practice outside at any time of the day, they did not have the courage to give up as if they did, they would be thrown out of the fort and lose a place to sleep. The ones that did not need such intense exercises stayed in the underground barracks where the sweat and lanterns were the only source of warmth: it seemed the Lord E¨®gan¨¢n could not afford more wood for the troops.


    The silence of the emperor alarmed the Lord in fact, pushing him to leave Dryfort and return to his main castle, located further north. His days were spent in his throne room eagerly for a message or any kind of information that could be reported back to him - yet nothing came. When gathering with his war council, E¨®gan¨¢n kept convincing them to stay loyal and have faith. Many feared that the message he had sent back with the mole was too much and would trigger the emperor to strike with a greater force than anticipated.


    The lords mainly stayed because of his promise to use the artifact he possessed. One of them even pretended to have seen it, to reassure his fellows that it was indeed real and tangible, momentarily appeasing the small tensions. It was a blatant lie however, having been paid a handsome amount by E¨®gan¨¢n to convince the council of his superiority.


    The Lord had taken the artifact in his hands once, but could not hold it long for its surface began burning in his hands. He did not see it though, as the simple sight without protection would blind any living creature. Back when the artifact was first rumored to have been spotted, he sent more than a thousand men to retrieve it. All came back blind and ravaged by madness - he executed them all in fear that they would spread the word. After this incident he sent a few more trusted men, and the ones that had their eyes burned suffered the same fate as the first troop. One of them was his closest friend.


    He had no idea how he was going to use it, or when. And if he had to blind his entire army to reach the emperor, he would do so without hesitation. Fearing the worst, E¨®gan¨¢n could not wait any longer. The weeks of silence made him weary, he could not understand why the emperor had not yet marched to him, or sent anything stating his disloyalty to the crown. There were only two possibilities: either the emperor was already making his moves without his knowledge, which could end up being fatal, or something happened in Lol?ne. Either way, not having control of the situation plagued him with anxiety, and he was losing sleep more and more.


    Raghnall and him had exchanged letters in the passing weeks but not even his younger brother understood what was happening. He had to react now before it was too late. Sitting in his throne room that only had his advisor and a few guards, he stood up with a determined look on his face.


    ¡°Urmat. We shall march tomorrow, prepare five thousand men with a cavalry at sunrise,¡± he clamored with a low voice.


    He left swiftly, not expecting an answer. His advisor, who wore a long dark orange robe, nodded in silence and smiled.


    ¡ª-------


    Andrei had not seen Rade in a few weeks. Perplexed, he had asked the generals and head battalions of the Hatchet army but none of them remembered the names of the hundreds of people under their command -  his companion seemed to have vanished without a trace. He felt guilty for not having properly apologised after Rade¡¯s outburst, thinking that if he hadn''t pushed him this far, maybe he would have stayed.


    Another part of him however, felt relieved. Rade did threaten him to not disclose the murder he witnessed by making him an accomplice, and in a way, had no ultimate choice but to follow him. But Andrei knew Rade as a rather intelligent man, and most of all, one that could fight: he on the other hand, could not be bothered to hold a sword for more than ten minutes. He did not especially have a frail body, but he definitely was not fond of weaponry and conflicts. If Andrei could rely that part on someone else, he would have been more than glad. Torn between remorse and relief, Andrei continued to work under Raghnall half of the time.


    The young Lord had indeed commanded Andrei to be discharged from army duties for the most part, aside from body training. In the weeks that had followed their conversation, he had been summoned several times to elaborate a strategy regarding the Howling Halls. Having also been granted permission to use Raghnall alchemical tools, he had crafted with great joy some healing elixirs and sleeping concoctions: although he did want to make some poison, Raghnall had forbited it stating that it could raise suspicions on him and his status within the Hatchets.


    ¡°Lord Hatchet has been gone for slightly more than a week,¡± expressed Andrei with his eyes focused on the beaker containing a light green liquid. ¡°We have been waiting for this to occur, why wait any longer?¡±


    Raghnall pushed his wooden wheelchair towards the working station where Andrei was slowly putting purple petals in the beaker, dissolving upon touching the liquid and letting out a small cloud of smoke.


    ¡°There were a few things I had to make sure of before we could put the plan into action,¡± he answered, as he placed a cup of tea on the table. Andrei waved his hand around the beaker, scattering the fumes away. ¡°Part of me is anxious that it is not going to work,¡± he continued, watching Andrei nodding his head in thanks for the beverage.


    After a few sips and a small silence, Raghnall observed his desk with tools dispersed all around, herbs scattered all over. His blue eyes gazed at the great mess, discouraged by the amount of garbage Andrei was letting wander around.


    ¡°It will work,¡± Andrei affirmed while putting down his cup. Raghnall raised an eyebrow, surprised. ¡°Quite spirited, are we? Well, you surely are going to your death, but it doesn''t matter to me.¡±


    At this very moment sir Colton bursted into the room with alarmed eyes, making the young men jolt with shock from the sudden noise. The butler held a paper in his hands, waving it around in panic.


    ¡°Lord E¨®gan¨¢n has begun marching to Lol?ne! He has sent an order to deploy half of the army held at Dryfort to serve as reinforcement,¡± he blurted out in a breath. Raghnall tilted his wheelchair to face him, his face drained of colors. Colton handed him the message he received, while Andrei stood up to read above his shoulder.


    ¡°What a fool¡­¡± murmured Raghnall. ¡°If this message arrived just now he would have been gone for two days at the very least.¡±


    ¡°Then he will reach the capital in about a week,¡± pointed Andrei, straightening up. ¡°This is a great opportunity. We can sneak into the Howling Halls while the army is too busy preparing the soldiers to send.¡±


    Raghnall nodded, and relaxed a little. The move from his brother was comprehensible, although he knew he succumbed to the paranoia of not knowing the state of the capital. Patience was a bet, and he was confused as to why his brother did not send spies to report the state of the emperor¡­Or maybe he did, but they never came back. Raghnall frowned at the thought. What was the emperor thinking? Why the deafening silence?


    ¡°Who has my brother given the charge of the House during his absence?¡± he said while looking at his butler trying to catch his breath. Colton¡¯s eyes darkened.


    ¡°His advisor, Lord Jenkin.¡±Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    Raghnall spat on the ground at these words. ¡°The incarnation of greed. We are doomed,¡± he said angrily.


    ¡°Why not pass the reins to his wife? They share the same name and status,¡± asked Andrei, confused. It was not uncommon to leave the responsibilities to one¡¯s spouse after the marriage if an emergency arose, and since Lord Hatchet had no child of his own it looked like the obvious choice to make.


    ¡°Because he despises women,¡± explained Raghnall with anger. ¡°They are nothing to him but an object to breed and satisfy his needs, and believes they have not the capacity to handle more than makeup on their faces and social gatherings. But the man¡¯s infertile, jokes on him. I thank the heavens everyday his brain will never be reproduced.¡±


    ¡°How do you know he is the one unable to impregnate?¡±


    Raghnall turned to Andrei with a vengeful smirk on his face, eyes lit up with satisfaction.


    ¡°Because I made sure he drank a tea every night that would empty his balls.¡±


    ¡ª--


    Rain started pouring soon after. Now that the news of E¨®gan¨¢n gathering troops had arrived at Dryfort, soldiers ran across the barracks gathering their uniform and items, generals and battalion commanders barked orders all around, sending the barracks into turmoil. Andrei observed the mates he shared the room with glancing around with anxious looks, fear, apprehension flooding their body as they moved frantically. They left without a word or a glance and Andrei was soon alone in the tiny room.


    Perched on his bunked bed he slightly bent over to look where Rade slept before he vanished. His heart clenched at the sight of the empty bed, his belongings nowhere to be seen. Maybe he really did leave, escaping one night without telling anyone of his whereabouts. Andrei sighed before tilting back and laying down on his thin wooden plank: he could not afford to feel distracted right now, for tonight was the moment he would start his descent into the depths of the Howling Halls.


    Raghnall had explained how the faster he would get down, the faster he had chances of walking back up. Now that Dryfort was busy gathering the best men they had trained, no one would pay attention nor care who would enter the prison. The Howling Halls expanded kilometers underground, a large cylinder-like structure plunging deep within the earth with a single spiral staircase as the only way of descending.


    Many important, violent murderers had been placed down in these cells, the worst of humankind being thrown into the deepest parts of the Halls to make sure they never saw the light of day again. Raghnall had repeated security measures to Andrei more times than he wished he had, although what he really focused on was how he was planning to proceed. Andrei had learned that an old elevator could be found at the very bottom of the prison but was out of service: the rope used to lift it up had been ravaged by termites, and the war approaching meant more to Lord Hatchet than replacing a part of a prison that he barely stepped foot in. Meaning that his only way out was going to climb all the stairs back up. Will he even have the energy to do so after reaching the depths?


    Andrei closed his eyes. Far away he could hear horses trotting, chariots moving, men yelling - it seemed that they were about to leave anytime soon. He had a few hours before him to rest while he still could, for Colton would come and get him when the moment was right. Andrei was nervous, and suddenly the prospect of dying loomed over him more than ever before. The memory of Lina¡¯s remains splurging around him made him shiver, but the pursuit of knowledge and truth overtook the traumatic thought rapidly. If the cleansing of the downcity of Lol?ne he had witnessed was necessary for him to arrive here, then he was glad.


    Thinking about it, he probably would not change a single thing if that meant he could hold an artifact in his hands.


    ¡ª-----------------


    ¡°Now, now!"


    A rapid, frantic shake from Colton woke Andrei suddenly. The butler¡¯s face was hidden under a large cape, covering the entirety of his body.


    ¡°Now is the time young lad. My master is waiting,¡± he whispered.


    Andrei jumped down the bunk bed as Colton handed him a piece of brown cloth, resembling what he wore. ¡°Hide your face,¡± he ordered, ¡°We have no time to waste. Follow me.¡±


    The butler swiftly turned his steps to the door, not waiting for Andrei who flung the cape around his shoulder while walking behind him, putting the large cape over his head. Only their steps resonated around the stone barracks, for the most part emptied. The place which was once filled with chattering noises and wooden cups clinking had evaporated in an afternoon, and Andrei suddenly felt extremely lonely.


    Colton grabbed a torch on his way out, his steps taking longer strides as if to get out of this place as fast as possible. After a few corridors and small stairs they exited the underground barracks and Andrei followed the man walking through the main door of the castle, where he entered for the first time. The two traversed the grand courtyard completely devoid of life and materials, almost as if the fort had been ransacked a few hours prior. Arriving at the great door Colton opened it before him, and Andrei noticed how the butler had a thin but long scar across his right hand. He did not notice it before, not really paying attention to the man who looked more innocent than he really was.


    Andrei shook his head. He had to focus on what he was about to go through. The pair walked through hallways and rooms in complete silence, as tension grew the more they made their way through Dryfort¡¯s castle. Arriving in the great hall, Andrei gazed upwards to admire the beautiful draconic painting once more. A small smile curved his lips at its sight. If he died tonight, it shall be in search of the truth.


    The butler took him down some small passages, slowly becoming less and less decorated. It seemed that they were going at the very far back of the castle, seeing the stones being placed roughly and the pavement getting much more uneven as they walked. Sir Colton stopped at the end of a narrow corridor, where he faced a slim metallic door with the family crest carved on it: two salient hounds intertwined with vines and brambles.


    Sir Colton swiftly opened the door, revealing a very large room with a great hole at its center. Andrei walked in first, taking in the vast area that laid before him. Four basins of fire bathed the place with a bright light, illuminating the entirety of the round chamber. This was a place large enough to hold a tournament or any kind of event that involved a few hundred people at the very least. Andrei observed his surroundings, noticing very slim windows perched high up, giving very little natural light to the place even during day time.


    ¡°Here you are,¡± a familiar voice arose. Andrei¡¯s eyes met with Raghnall in his wooden wheelchair placed near the great hole in the ground, covered by thin layers of metallic bars. ¡°Come over here.¡±


    Sir Colton closed the door behind him while Andrei walked up to the crippled man, who was dressed warmly. His long ginger hair arboured thin braids that got tucked in his fluffy, large coat. Once he stood before him, Raghnall gave him a little leather bag. Andrei hesitated slightly, looking at him in confusion.


    ¡°A little something. Look inside,¡± he insisted.


    Andrei opened it carefully, and peaked in its interior. He discerned dried food, a small gourd of water, two long thick cloth and light daggers. His eyes caught something unusual, and he reached it with his hand to pull it out.


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­¡± he started in shock. Raghnall nodded. In his hand was a small flask containing blood, enough to be splashed in the face with. Andrei looked at the crippled man, appalled, who suddenly appeared to him as extremely pale.


    ¡°Listen to me Andrei. The artifact is being protected by two guardians that have been in my family for generations. They are alchemically produced and only respond to the blood of my lineage. Use it when you reach the depth, and please. Please, never turn your back once you face them.¡±


    Andrei was at a loss for words. He lowered his gaze to the little flask one again before putting it back in the bag and placing it on his shoulder. Of course he knew what it implied and he truly respected Raghnall for sacrificing a bit of himself in the process. As much as the crippled man claimed to not care about his fate, he ultimately went lengths to make him succeed. Andrei chuckled at the thought.


    ¡°I am very grateful, thank you.¡±


    ¡°No need,¡± mumbled Raghnall. ¡°Now go.¡±


    He signed his butler to open the trap. Sir Colton walked near the wall and stopped before removing a few blocks of stones, giving away a lever. Grabbing the handle he pulled it with a great force, and a loud creaking noise resonated all around them. Andrei observed in amazement as each metallic bar was slowly retracting one by one, until nothing but an ominous abyss greeted him. He could see how hundreds of torches spiraled down, getting smaller the farther he looked. Andrei looked at Raghnall once more, his blue eyes looking back in encouragement.


    Gazing to the entrance once more and the large stairs greeting him, Andrei took a deep breath before taking his first step down the Howling Halls. He descended slowly, watching where he laid his foot in fear of slipping out. After walking for a few meters a loud metallic noise resonated around him and he lifted his head up, watching the metallic bars closing the entrance. He saw Raghnall looking down at him with worry before he cupped his hands around his mouth.


    ¡°Stop at the cell six thousand and twenty three!¡±