ã€ŠThe Unbinding: Rotting Rootsã€‹


 Prologue: Containment

    Heavy boots echoed through dark tunnels as Acolyte Davros Savilette made his way to Lab 13.

    He took a stiff breath of humid air, rubbing sweat from his bald head in annoyance.

    Davros hated making this trip. Venturing into the Districts was a chore, but District 13... Even with Crecius'' efforts, there was no way to dispel the scent of poverty.

    "Should we tell the Lord, Sir?" A blockish looking Acolyte asked beside him.

    "Our Lord¡¯s time is valuable, Dipple. He cannot be bothered with common concerns." Davros replied. "Let''s see what the Scholar has in store, first."

    Dipple nodded his understanding.

    He was a good Acolyte, even if he was from a hayseed house in the Skirts. Unfortunately, being a hayseed meant he could never be trusted to report on an incident like this. A proper executive was needed. A Blessed of Kaden City stock.

    The two Acolytes reached a heavy steel door.

    Dipple handed Davros the blue crystal lantern.He moved to the door, swinging it wide with a mighty pull.

    They were greeted on the other side by a short man in purple and white scholar''s robes. The scientist had his head bowed low in deference.

    "Qorvast."

    Davros addressed the researcher.

    "Which of your creatures is causing trouble today?"

    The scholar raised his balding head from its subservient tilt.

    He had a harried look about him, which was not unusual for the fidgety academic.

    "Apologies, Sir." The man squeaked out, glasses pinching the bridge of his nose. "I would not have sent for you if it were not truly urgent."

    Davros squinted, eyes struggling in the darkness of the cavernous lab. Glowing lights of varying colors hovered in the distance.

    "Let''s walk and talk." He suggested, allowing Acolyte Dipple and the anxious Qorvast to take the lead. "What are we dealing with?"

    "It''s Subject 9, sir." The researcher started. "We''ve lost containment."

    "Naturally." Davros grimaced.

    Subject 9 was the only thing here worth his time.

    Well¡­

    Subject 3 had some merit.

    "When did this happen?" He asked, approaching two rows of massive glass tubes, each extending from mounts on the floor and into a network of thick tree roots along the ceiling.

    "We don''t know." The scholar muttered.

    The shifty man turned his head, shying away from Davros¡¯ piercing gaze.

    "There is evidence that the breach may have been concealed from us. I''m looking into it."

    The group moved between aisles of tubes. Most were dark and empty, but some were still lit. Filled with viscous fluids glowing with complex magics. Forbidden magics. Magics that gave life to the wretched creatures within.

    "So, why am I here, Qorvast?¡± Davros asked, throwing an expectant look at the scientist. ¡°We have protocols for this, yes?"

    "Of--Of course, Sir." The man stammered. "Protocol is to liquidate the subject when a breach is discovered."

    "And?" The Executive pressed.

    "Well-- It''s--" The researcher began, struggling to find the right words. "It''s just--"

    "It''s best you see for yourself, Sir." Dipple cut in.

    Davros narrowed his eyes at the two men.

    Sweat glistened on their anxious faces.

    Qorvast¡¯s work had always made him feel queasy. His success¡¯ could be considered abominations at best, but his failures¡­ Davros could hardly imagine.

    Thunk.

    A muffled thud caught the Acolytes'' attention. He scanned the room, identifying the source.

    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    It was one of the glass cylinders nearest to him. He focused in, eyes alighting on a tube with a deep purple glow.

    The Executive smiled at the familiar creature within.

    Soon my sweet. He mused. We''ll have our time.

    "It''s this way, Sir." Came the hesitant voice of Scholar Qorvast.

    The two men had moved ahead while Davros was distracted. They were waiting by a hallway at the end of the aisle.

    The Executive moved to join his colleagues, not sparing a second glance for the glowing purple cylinder and the writhing woman within.

    "It''s just down this hall, Sir."

    Dipple gestured down the curved corridor.

    Davros raised an eyebrow.

    Neither of his companions had made any moves to enter the dark passage.

    Qorvast reached out a hand, offering the Executive a gold ringlet with dark stones set on both ends.

    "You''ll want to wear this, Sir." The researcher muttered, head bowed.

    Davros looked at the device skeptically, then glanced at Dipple who was busy fastening one around his own neck.

    "It''s called a suppressor." Qorvast explained. "It''s a necessary precaution, to prevent the Entity''s more volatile energies from corrupting you."

    The Acolyte frowned at the nervous researcher. Sweat now covered the man''s face.

    He glanced back at Dipple, who seemed unaffected by the collar.

    Davros sighed, moving to clip the device around his throat.

    "You might feel a bit of disassociation at first." The Researcher warned.

    The device clicked into place around the Executives neck.

    His eyes widened.

    Disassociation was an understatement. He''d been separated from his well of magic.

    Concerned, but not quite panicked, Davros tapped into that well.

    He relaxed as the power swelled. It was a bit harder to reach, but still there.

    His nerves settled, and soon, blessedly, the feeling faded, his body adjusting to the sensation.

    He gave the Scholar a withering look.

    The man¡¯s cheeks twitched in embarrassment.

    "Shall we continue?"

    Qorvast motioned to the dark corridor.

    Davros nodded for them to continue.

    The trio moved along the tunnel, hard boots echoing against the walls.

    The lights of the lab behind them winked out as they passed the horizon of the curved hall. Only the subtle glow of Dipples'' lamp remained.

    They walked on, the lamp''s crystals casting jagged shadows across the narrow space.

    Davros¡¯ brow furrowed.

    Something had shifted.

    There was a new presence in the atmosphere.

    A foreign energy.

    It pushed against them, pulsing.

    Davros gritted his teeth.

    This power was incredible. He could feel it trying to grip him, subvert his defenses, invade his mind.

    The Executive was suddenly very glad for the suppressor around his neck. He could tell the effect of the entity was not quite as potent as it might have been.

    They pressed forward.

    The energy grew stronger with every step, waves of power acting on them like a physical force. It was constant, like a warm gust of wind lapping against his skin. Even the blue light from the lamp rippled in tune, causing their shadows to dance across the walls.

    "Here it is." Qorvast said, voice quivering under the pressure of the Entity.

    They¡¯d arrived at a heavy steel door with a hatch wheel in the center.

    Acolyte Dipple dropped the lamp, moving to turn the wheel.

    He grabbed both sides, giving a great heave.

    Thunk.

    The Sound echoed down the corridor, thrumming through them.

    Dipple looked back to Davros, seeking permission.

    Davros nodded.

    The door swung wide.

    His breath caught.

    They were now exposed to the full power of the Entity.

    It washed across them like an ocean current, oppressive, unflinching, unending.

    Dipple and the Scholar stepped back in surprise, raising their hands against the waves of energy.

    Executive Davros Savilette stepped forward.

    A smile bloomed on his frown lined face.

    It was beautiful, incredible. A darkness so vast¡­

    He stared at it, eyes glowing with rapturous splendor.

    The black mass of horrifying magic pulsed with unquenchable thirst, drawing in all light around it.

    Its power rippled against reality, warping it, changing it.

    "Magnificent." Davros whispered, the words disappeared into the cacophony of power around him.

    The Executive frowned, hearing a yell beside him.

    "My Lord?"

    It was the researcher.

    The man had a hand held out, trying to block the waves of energy. Sweat streaked diagonally across his cheeks, pressed back by the everpresent power.

    "What am I looking at, Qorvast?" Davros shouted.

    Rushing energy echoed through his ears.

    "The inner core, sir!" The Researcher yelled back.

    "Inner Core?"

    He gave the scholar a confused look.

    "There''s an area of effect that extends beyond this chamber, Sir. It''s almost undetectable." The man shouted. "We don''t know what it''s doing, but we''re calling that the outer core."

    "How far does it go?" Davros asked, turning his head toward the bookish man.

    "We don''t know." The harried man replied, eyes affixed to the dark mass.

    "Well, you''d best figure it out, Scholar!" Davros advised. "''I don''t know'' is not an answer our Lord accepts."

    The Researcher nodded.

    The Executive smiled.

    This was why he''d chosen Lord Crecius among all the other offers.

    To see such wonders.

    A virgin unknown.

    A transcendent force.

    What a wonderful night this turned out to be.

 Chapter 1 - Rust

    Inspector Kint grimaced, rattling pipes overhead startling him from a daydream.

    ¡°Damned pipes.¡± He muttered.

    The pipes shuddered, rust falling from where they¡¯d been bolted to a towering stone aqueduct.

    A once beautiful structure, tainted by progress.

    Kint¡¯s frown deepened. Muffled screams emanated from the cozy wooden home before him. He pulled a pipe and tobacco tin from his dark cloak, then patted his pants in search of a tinderbox.

    ¡°Can¡¯t even light the damned thing.¡± He grumbled.

    The Inspector turned, searching the foggy cobbled street.

    The Shroud was thick this morning.

    His eyes alighted on an elbow poking out from behind one of the Aqueducts'' many pillars.

    He approached, finding an old man attached to the elbow.

    The man was dressed in a sharp courier¡¯s uniform of Vorvan purple and black. He sat in a stiff wooden chair, eyes closed, fast asleep.

    Kint laid a gentle hand on the man¡¯s shoulder, startling him awake.

    ¡°Lightning strike me!¡± The courier sat up in his chair. His eyes widened as he recognized Kint¡¯s uniform.

    The old man pushed himself to stand, smoothing down his wrinkled outfit.

    ¡°I¡¯m terribly sorry, terribly sorry, Inspector. It¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s truly not my measure to be sleepin'' on the job.¡±

    Kint raised an eyebrow. The old man fidgeted with his hands, head bowed.

    ¡°It¡¯s not my measure sir, truly.¡± He repeated.

    His lilting provincial accent made it difficult for Kint to understand.

    The Old man raised apologetic eyes to meet Kint¡¯s own.

    "I try to keep myself together, Inspector, truly I do.¡± He grimaced, shaking his head. ¡°But the sleep don¡¯t come like it used to and the acolytes are beatin¡¯ down on us, and my friend Narm¡­ he got let go, so the double shifts are taking the life right out of me bones. And I don¡¯t got too much left I imagine.¡± His shoulders slumped, eyes dropping as the wind left his sails. ¡°It¡¯s not my measure sir¡­ It¡¯s just not.¡± He murmured, resigned.

    Kint observed the trembling old man. He spoke like his life was in Kint¡¯s hands.

    ¡°What happened to Narm?¡± The Inspector asked.

    The old man gave him a skittish look.

    ¡°Got caught sleepin¡¯¡­¡±

    Kint huffed out a laugh.

    ¡°Well, It¡¯s a good thing I¡¯m not an Acolyte, friend¡­ or you¡¯d be fucked.¡± Kint raised his full pipe to the confused courier. ¡°I¡¯m just here for a light.¡±

    The man stared at him, then down at the pipe.

    Kint grinned, trying to soothe the man''s nerves.

    Realization dawned on the old man. His wrinkles loosened, a warmth blooming across his wizened face.

    ¡°Prophet help me¡­¡± He sighed. ¡°Here.''''

    He held his pointer finger over the bowl. A subtle haze formed around the top of the pipe. Stress lines scrunched at the corners of the man''s eyes.

    The leaf began to smolder, then burn.

    Kint nodded, thanking the courier.

    He took a pull, enjoying the smooth tobacco smoke.

    The old man sat back down, pulling out a pipe of his own. He packed it with steady hands, lighting the tobacco with the same precision as before.

    ¡°You¡¯ve got good control.¡± Kint commented. ¡°That''s Shaper¡¯s work...¡±

    The older man nodded, sucking in his first puff.

    ¡°You¡¯ve a good eye, sir. Though I s¡¯pose that¡¯s to be expected.¡± He smiled, taking another puff, fumes pushing through his teeth. ¡°I¡¯m almost a Shaper. At least, I did Shaper¡¯s work in the homeland.¡±

    ¡°What brought you here?¡± Kint questioned, surprised.

    In the Provinces, Shapers were always useful. Even Waver Class Mages had value there. But, in the Districts, a Kadenite Mage was just another factory worker. Another cog in the Machine.

    ¡°I¡¯d always had the itch for some action. Ya know?" The Courier grunted, eyes distant with memory. "I heard there was a new lord of the 13th making a real go of it. So, I came out here hopin¡¯ I could lend experienced hands to the cause.¡±

    ¡°What happened?¡± Kint asked, having a good idea what the answer would be.

    ¡°Agh¡­ I''m just another Kadenite in Kaden City.¡± The old man snorted.

    Kint huffed a laugh in reply.

    It was a story often heard in the City. The opportunities here were not so glamorous as they were made out to be in provincial village squares.

    The two men sat in silence after that. Tobacco smoke massaging their frayed nerves, soothing their tired minds.

    Just two Kadenites in Kaden City.

    The courier chuckled to himself, breaking the silence.

    ¡°God¡¯s take me.¡± He grinned. ¡°When I saw that face of yours looking down at me¡­ I thought I could feel the lashes already.¡±

    The Old man looked up at Kint''s grim face.

    ¡°No offense, sir.¡± He stammered. ¡°You¡¯ve a fine face, a very good one in fact.¡±

    ¡°Lashes?¡± Kint questioned.

    ¡°Aye, twenty of ¡®em.¡± The courier replied. ¡°Narm¡¯s been laid up for weeks. They won¡¯t even let him see a Priestess to fix it.¡±

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t seem like a lashing offense.¡± Kint commented. Smoke spilled from his lips, intermingling with the swirling Shroud.

    ¡°It didn¡¯t used to be.¡± The courier replied. ¡°But it¡¯s like I said. The Acolytes are tightenin'' things up. Sending a message.¡±

    ¡°Sending a message, eh¡­¡± Kint mused. ¡°Well, it doesn¡¯t seem to have worked.¡±

    The old man grimaced, cheeks growing red with embarrassment.

    ¡°Like I said. Sleep don¡¯t come so easy¡­¡± A young sun pierced the Shroud, spreading shadows across his face. ¡°And I don¡¯t much like it when it does.¡±

    Kint gave the man a thoughtful eye.

    There was a thump behind them, then a creaking of hinges.

    The two men turned, watching as the front door of a small wood home swung open.

    A tall lithe figure stepped confidently through the opening, mist parting around her black clad form like a sea of smoke.

    She had long blonde hair, and wore a suit similar to Kint¡¯s. Black pants, coat, and a purple tie fit snug to her body, accentuating her feminine form.

    She paused on the porch, taking a deep breath of fresh air.

    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    Spotting him, the Inspector smiled, making her way over.

    A sudden wind blew past her, carrying the smell from the open door.

    Kint¡¯s eye twitched at the sulfurous stench. He glanced to the side, and grimaced.

    The Courier¡¯s face had gone sheet white.

    The Inspector sighed, mourning the life of their conversation, extinguished with a smell.

    He placed a hand on the old man¡¯s shoulder.

    The Courier flinched.

    ¡°Thanks for the light.¡± He said, moving to join his partner.

    Elsha holstered her domination stick, a black cudgel with red ruby inlays.

    She nodded to Kint¡¯s pipe, peeling off a pair of black gloves.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to need one of those.¡± She commented. ¡°Sin tastes like shit.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s a park down the road.¡± Kint grumbled, nodding to the end of the street.

    __________________________________________________________________

    Kint sat on a wood bench at the edge of a park walled in with trees. The grass was lush, the birds vocal, and suns rays on Shrouded skies gave the area an orange tint. Kint liked this park. It was a world apart from the rust, and the rattling pipes.

    The only man made structure that stood in the open lawn was a large steel fountain. It was shaped like the Stalwart Tree, whose massive canopy was visible over the rooftops in front of him, only slightly obscured by mist. A statue of the Prophet stood at the base of the tree, hand pressed against its trunk.

    Kaden Ignus was said to have grown the towering flora from a seedling to its full height in a single day.

    Elsha made her way back from the fountain, squeezing water from her hair. Slick blond locks rested in a mop on her shoulder.

    She reached into her coat pocket, pulling out a gold cigarette tin. With her delicate fingers she removed a pipette, placing a cigarette at the wider end. She held the device in her hand like a chalice.

    The lithe Inspector pointed a finger at the tip of the cigarette from below. A stream of flame erupted from the appendage, lighting the cigarette, then disappeared just as quickly.

    The power came easy to her, marking her blood as Blessed.

    She was not ''Just another Kadenite in Kaden City''.

    Elsha stood, Shrouded sunlight framing her face in shadows. She breathed deep of the soothing smoke, releasing a graceful exhale.

    ¡°Enjoying the show?¡± She asked, giving him a side eyed glance.

    Kint had been staring.

    He pulled his own pipe from his lips.

    ¡°Your beauty is the most interesting thing about you.¡± He barked. ¡°Might as well enjoy it.¡±

    ¡°I''m glad you did.¡± She replied, grinning. "You looked positively dismal earlier."

    Kint¡¯s eyebrow twitched.

    ¡°Just the thought of another day with you will do that to a man.¡± He quipped.

    ¡°Most men would kill for a day with me, Kint.¡± Elsha grinned. ¡°I¡¯m sure that old courier you were speaking with earlier would.¡±

    ¡°I think you¡¯ve scared him enough for one morning.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­The uniform was quite fetching, actually.¡± Elsha pondered, putting a finger to pursed lips. ¡°I might like a man with... experience.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s a good man.¡± Kint grumbled, taking a small puff. ¡°I¡¯m sure he has a wife and children.¡±

    ¡°Now that¡¯s a challenge.¡± His partner cooed.

    Kint gave her a flat look.

    She rolled her eyes, giving an exasperated sigh.

    ¡°Oh don¡¯t worry.¡± Elsha groaned. ¡°He¡¯s not even close to my type.¡±

    She tapped her cigarette, ashes falling to the ground.

    ¡°Besides, families are¡­¡±

    She drew deeply from the pippette.

    ¡°Messy¡­¡±

    Smoke blew from her supple lips.

    Kint gave her a skeptical look.

    Elsha put a hand on his shoulder, lowering herself to sit beside him.

    ¡°After all this time¡­ do you truly think so little of me?¡± She asked, a wounded expression on her face.

    He met her big, dark eyes.

    ¡°If I thought any less of you¡­¡± He said, exhaling smoke into her face. ¡°You¡¯d cease to exist.¡±

    She closed her eyes, turning away.

    ¡°Ugh, That¡¯s awful Kint.¡± She huffed, punching him in the shoulder. ¡°I love it.¡±

    Kint smiled.

    The two sat for a few moments, enjoying the morning sun.

    Dewdrops sparkled in the hazy light, giving the moment an ethereal feel.

    It ended quickly.

    Elsha took in a dramatic breath.

    ¡°Kint¡­ you know I don¡¯t mind but¡­¡±

    She met his eyes.

    ¡°... are you ever going to join me in our holiest of duties?¡±

    He looked away, letting his pipe hand fall to his knee.

    ¡°They only happen once every couple of months.¡± He murmured.

    ¡°But, they do happen, Kint¡­¡± She grimaced.  ¡°And I worry¡­¡±

    ¡°You worry?¡± He raised an eyebrow.

    She did away with the concern, taking his point.

    ¡°Well, Maybe I don¡¯t worry that much.¡±

    She continued in a more conversational tone.

    ¡°But I do like what we have going here... It works.¡± She took another quick puff. ¡°But these things do happen, and someone¡¯s going to notice. I just don¡¯t want your reputation to take a hit when they do.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re worried about my reputation?¡± he asked, irritated.

    She sighed.

    ¡°I¡¯m not worried. I really don¡¯t care.¡± She reiterated, ¡° But someone will find out, and people will start to talk¡­ Maybe they already are."

    Kint¡¯s eyes narrowed.

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s just rumors¡­¡±

    ¡°Dammit, Elsha.¡± He groaned.

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t me, I swear.¡± She soothed.

    Kint rolled his eyes.

    ¡°Look, none of this would even matter if you¡¯d just do you fucking job.¡± Elsha argued, exasperated. ¡°Sin happens, Rot happens, the Fifth must be enforced, whether it¡¯s us or someone else. Otherwise¡­ ruin.¡±

    Kint worked his jaw in irritation.

    She was right. He knew she was right.

    But¡­

    ¡°Fine¡­¡± He sighed, relenting. ¡°Next time there¡¯s an¡­ incident.¡± He ground out the words like dust in his mouth. ¡°I¡¯ll join you inside. But that¡¯s all I¡¯ll do. Nothing more.¡±

    ¡°Finally.¡±

    Elsha let out a breath, tension releasing from her shoulders.

    ¡°I can¡¯t believe you made me do that.¡± She huffed. ¡°I was starting to sound like a bloody zealot.¡±

    She shivered taking another puff from her pipette.

    Kint let out a tight chuckle, lifting his own pipe to his lips.

    He pulled back, the spark had gone out.

    ¡°Oh, let me get that.¡± Elsha commented, placing a finger above the bowl of his like the courier had.

    A small flame sprung to life below her fingertip. Smoke billowed from the bowl.

    Somehow, when Elsha¡¯s flames felt far more sinister than the old man¡¯s. Maybe because he knew what they¡¯d been used for less than an hour earlier.

    ¡°Thanks.¡± Kint grunted, taking a long pull from the vessel.

    He would not give her the satisfaction of his discomfort.

    She smiled, unfazed by his internal battle, gaze returning to stare out over the well manicured lawn.

    He grimaced, readjusting himself in his seat in an attempt to enjoy the morning air.

    It was difficult.

    The Inspectors were interrupted by the clacking of stiff boots down the street behind them.

    The breathless courier stepped through the arched entryway. He ran across the lawn to meet them.

    The old man held out a small red tube with a brass cap. The cap was emblazoned with the Owl¡¯s head and quill of House Vorva.

    ¡°Apologies Inspectors¡­¡± The old man stammered, head bowed. ¡°A message for you.¡±

    Elsha snatched the tube from Courier''s hands.

    She put her thumb and pointer finger on the two crystals laid into the cap. There was a hissing sound and then a snap as the inner latch popped open. The cap swung back revealing the message inside.

    Elsha read it.

    Her eyes widened in surprise.

    ¡°Murder.¡± She muttered.

    The courier flinched.

    ¡°They¡¯re giving it to us?¡± Kint frowned.

    ¡°I guess so.¡±

    ¡°What about the twins?¡± Kint pressed.

    ¡°They¡¯re getting married tomorrow.¡± She replied.

    ¡°Both of them?¡±

    She nodded.

    ¡°How ¡®bout Rent and Davul?¡± Kint proposed. ¡°They love these things.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯ve already got three.¡±

    The Old Man flinched again.

    ¡°I think they¡¯re all out of options Kint¡­¡± Elsha shrugged. ¡°I mean¡­ They must be, right?¡±

    Kint shook his head, confused.

    ¡°I guess it has been a rough few months, hasn¡¯t it.¡± He grunted.

    Elsha shrugged again.

    ¡°Welp, there¡¯s no arguing with the Mayor.¡± He sighed.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know about that.¡± His partner quipped, handing the tube back to the courier, as she burned the message in her other hand.

    ¡°Let¡¯s get moving, shall we?¡± She turned to exit the park. ¡°I think this could be fun.¡±

    Kint glanced at the Courier. The man was horrified.

    Murders were rare in Kaden City. Even in a low ranking District like this one. To hear that there had been multiple in just the last few months, could shake a man.

    ¡°Prophet protect us.¡± The man whispered.

    The Inspector grimaced. Regretting the fright they¡¯d given the man this morning.

    ¡°It could be worse, friend.¡± Kint joked, gesturing over his shoulder to where Elsha was waiting. ¡°She was considering taking you out earlier.¡±

    The man¡¯s eyes widened in panic.

    Kint grinned, hoping it would help the joke land better. The couriers face only grew more disturbed.

    ¡°God¡¯s Kint. Leave the man alone.¡± Elsha scolded, pulling him away.

    They exited the park. His partner letting go when they made it to the cobbled streets outside.

    ¡°I guess he wasn¡¯t much for jokes.¡± Kint muttered.

    Elsha snorted.

    ¡°God¡¯s Kint, If your wit was any drier, I think you¡¯d burst into flames.¡±

 Chapter 2 - A Story

    ¡°I hate this quarter.¡± Elsha griped, wiping sweat from her brow.

    ¡°Of course you do.¡± Kint replied.

    Two men passed them on the cobbled road. They were caked in tanning powders and dripping with lace.

    ¡°These merchants.¡± She grimaced. ¡°They just don¡¯t understand what it means to be rich.¡±

    ¡°Right.¡± Kint replied, distracted by suffocating humidity.

    He ran a hand through slick hair, glancing up at the Shrouded orange sun.

    ¡°I mean¡­¡± She started again, ¡°Look at these things.¡±

    Elsha gestured to the massive homes around them.

    Everything was Mage Forged. Whether forged stone, or grown wood, all the buildings were brutal and blockish like they¡¯d been designed by a child.

    A frown etched his partner''s face.

    ¡°They need to learn the difference between surface area and substance.¡±

    ¡°Right.¡± Kint huffed.

    He was considering whether to remove his cloak, its insides were already slick with sweat. Which meant his shirt was probably transparent.

    Best to keep the cloak on.

    ¡°I mean, come on¡­¡± She groaned, pointing to a Grown Wood house.

    Kint looked up, and had to smile.

    It was a treehouse. Nothing more than a thick wood rectangle shoved into a stout tree. A rope ladder hung down to the lawn for entry and exit.

    ¡®Designed by children¡¯ indeed.

    ¡°It¡¯s just up ahead.¡±

    Kint pointed to a white stone mansion a few houses down.

    ¡°Clarette Syfone said that homes like these break the spirit of the Second and Third Tenets.¡± Elsha commented, ¡°I tend to agree¡­ I doubt the hands that built them had a callous on them.¡±

    Kint snorted a laugh.

    ¡°You disagree?¡± She asked, raising an eyebrow.

    ¡°I get my gospel from the Prophet.¡± Kint replied, ¡°Not some Syfone puff.¡±

    ¡°Hmph.¡± Elsha¡¯s brows knit together. ¡°I didn¡¯t take you for a believer.¡±

    The aged Inspector grimaced.

    ¡°We¡¯re here.¡± He grunted.

    They turned to stand in front of a tall black iron gate.

    Behind it, the blood orange sun rose over an expansive home.

    A young man strode to meet them. Silvery moats of fog parted as he moved to open the gate.

    The boy had thick red hair and wore the black and purple uniform of an Apprentice Inspector.

    ¡°I¡¯ll meet you inside.¡± Elsha muttered, shouldering past the young man as the barrier swung wide.

    ¡°Payter.¡± Kint greeted.

    The young man was looking over his shoulder, watching Elsha enter the building.

    ¡°Did I do something to offend her?¡± He asked.

    ¡°She¡¯s fickle.¡± Kint soothed. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t worry about it.¡±

    The Apprentice frowned, then schooled himself to attention, bowing to his senior.

    ¡°Inspector Kint.¡± He started, straightening up. ¡°I have initial findings to report.¡±

    ¡°Go ahead.¡± Kint grinned, enjoying the open ambition in the young man''s eyes.

    ¡°I arrived at the Syfeeli residence roughly two hours ago, responding to a public disturbance message. I made several requests for entry, which went unanswered. I was about to leave, when I heard a disturbance inside, so I let myself in.¡±

    Kint raised an eyebrow. He didn¡¯t think the boy was the type ¡®let himself in¡¯.

    ¡°The lower level was empty so I proceeded upstairs. Where I found Mr. Syfeeli and¡­¡± He hesitated, face going pale. ¡°... the victim.¡±

    ¡°How bad is it, son?¡± Kint probed.

    The young man grimaced, clearing his throat.

    ¡°The husband was standing over a dining table, unresponsive. His wife¨C Mrs. Syfeeli was on the table. She¡¯d¡­ .¡± The Apprentice swallowed. ¡°She¡¯d been stabbed¡­ several times.¡±

    Kint frowned. That wasn¡¯t a good sign.

    ¡°Did he seem touched, to you?¡± The Inspector asked.

    The boy flinched at the word.

    ¡°I¡­ I wouldn¡¯t know about¡­ any of that.¡± He stammered.

    ¡°Did he attack you?¡± Kint pressed.

    ¡°No. He didn¡¯t seem dangerous. Just broken.¡± The boy noted. ¡°I tied him to a bedpost inside.¡±

    Kint nodded.

    ¡°Do the neighbors know anything?¡± He asked, looking around.

    ¡°Just that there¡¯s a body.¡± The young man replied, color returning. ¡°And that Inspectors were on the way.¡±

    The Inspector frowned.

    This wasn¡¯t good. Things like this didn¡¯t happen in District 13, especially not in the Merchant¡¯s Quarter. Even worse, a description like what Payter had just given would smell of Rot to most citizens.

    He needed to solve this quickly, lest it draw unwanted attention.

    Kint sighed.

    ¡°Tell the Mayor we¡¯ll have this sewn up by noon.¡± He stated.

    The boy gave him a skeptical look, not moving.

    The wizened Inspector raised an eyebrow.

    ¡°Go.¡± He said, with a sharper tone.

    Kint watched, as the silhouette of the Apprentice Inspector faded into the distant fog.

    He put a hand to his forehead, rubbing sweat from his brow.

    Turning back to the house, he gritted his teeth.

    He did not want to do what he was about to do. It had been years since the last time he¡¯d resorted to this. But, there was no choice really. Things could get messy without it¡­ They already were.

    Kint sighed.

    He needed assistance.

    ¡°No use crying about it.¡± He grumbled.

    The weary Inspector took a deep breath in, filling his lungs with humid air.

    He closed his eyes.

    As the air left his chest, it carried away his emotions.

    His biases, assumptions, corrupting context. It all evaporated, released from his lungs, till there nothing remained.

    He was in The Silent State.

    In this altered state, Kint was in complete control. Every thought had a purpose, every action a direction. He needed only to bind himself to an objective. A driving force. A mission within which the will of the Silent State could manifest.

    What happened here?

    A simple question.

    But, that was all he needed.

    He opened his eyes. The world flooded in, information filled his mind, data collected through every sensory input.

    It was all filtered through the sieve of his objective.

    The Silent State quickly parsed what was necessary.

    Overgrown hedges. Poorly cut grass. A spiderweb in the corner of a first floor window.

    A story began to build in his mind.

    Kint walked down the entryway to the door.

    He turned the bronze handle, pushing inside.

    Dust puffed around him, making him cough.

    There was a stairway in front, a ball room to his left.

    His eyes narrowed.

    He stepped into the ballroom. Massive windows stretched across either side. Dark orange light beamed into the room from the back, cutting through a flurry of dust.

    Shades facing the street, none on the back windows.

    Kint knelt to the floor, sweeping his fingers across the surface.

    Scuff marks on the wood. Months worth of dust.

    Kint stood, rubbing the dust from his fingers.

    The foundation was setting in his mind.

    He moved to the entrance, ascending the stairs.

    Square outlines on the walls where paintings once hung.

    He crested the second floor.

    There was an open door to his right, the sun''s light leaking into the dark hall.

    He entered the room.

    There was a long dining table in the center, its lacquered surface shone with the glow of midday sun.

    The victim''s body rested in the center of the table, but he ignored it for now.

    Almost no furniture.

    He noticed.

    But, shapes in the dust where furniture used to be.

    The picture in his mind was becoming clearer. Disparate parts of the story coming together.

    Kint approached the victim.

    As he stood over her, he paused.

    There was a door beside him. A rhythmic clatter coming from the other side.

    His teeth clenched slightly.

    He¡¯d deal with that later.

    Back to the body.

    The victims feet dangled off the near side of the table, head tilted off the other. Long raven hair spilled to the floor like a waterfall.

    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    Pools of blood glistened in the orange light.

    A large kitchen knife protruded from the womans chest, her hands were cupped around it, covering the severity of the wounds.

    Kint moved the hands aside, leaning in to get a better look at the injuries.

    The hands were placed over the wounds.

    The knife was caked in blood, rammed into the table with incredible force. That single stab was enough to kill the woman, and likely pin her to the table. But, the killer had not stopped there.

    Stab wounds covered the woman¡¯s torso. Slits cut into her from shoulders to waist. Blood soaked through her elegant blue dress.

    The majority of the damage was to the chest. The knife had been driven in countless times creating a bowl of blood, bones, and viscera.

    This is passion, intense passion. Maybe insanity¡­

    But, Rot?

    He needed more information.

    Kint lifted one of the victims hands, inspecting it.

    The appendage was surprisingly clean, only light bruising around the wrist.

    He reached for the other, pulling it up.

    There was a deep crimson gash on her palm where she¡¯d grabbed the knife.

    The Inspector looked down. There was a pool of blood on the table below her elbow.

    She grabbed the knife, trying to stop the first stab. The wounds spilled blood down her arm to the table.

    His eyes narrowed. There was another smaller pool of blood separate from the others. He stared at it, calculating. Carefully, he picked up the victim''s left hand by the wrist, extending the arm. He laid it gently on the dark red pool.

    She didn¡¯t die like this. He rearranged the body after. Covering up what he¡¯d done.

    A bit of tension faded from his shoulders.

    There was remorse in those actions, making Rot less likely.

    Kint stepped back, nodding to himself.

    He was satisfied with the story. It didn¡¯t involve Sin or Rot. Just hard times, a failing marriage, and actions taken in the heat of passion.

    There was no need to look further. No need to drag things out.

    This case would be off his plate by end of day.

    Except¡­

    Kint¡¯s eyes shifted to the door and the rhythmic clattering beyond.

    The husband would be there.

    He had his story. He was sure it wouldn¡¯t be Rot.

    He stepped closer to the door.

    The sound grew clearer. A high pitched gingling of metal on metal.

    Long forgotten memories itched at his mind.

    He moved closer.

    There was another sound

    He put his ear to the door.

    Words¡­ The same ones over and over.

    Kint reached for the handle. The brass cold in his hand.

    He needed to be sure.

    He opened the door.

    The room was dark.

    A king bed with a canopied wooden frame occupied most of the space. Orange light peaked through heavy shades at the opposite end.

    The rattling of chains was clear now. Like a thousand silver coins tumbling over and over.

    Kint stepped inside.

    The air was humid. It swirled around him as he moved, carrying the metallic taste of blood to his lips. The smell of sweat and body odor were prominent.

    He maneuvered around the bed.

    The chains echoed through the room, harmonizing a steady rasping chorus.

    ¡°I have to free her.¡±

    The husband was crouched in front of the bed. His arms were chained above his head, shackles secured to a thick bedpost.

    Sweat poured down the man''s bare back. His body pulled against the bonds as he swayed to the beat of his incessant chant.

    ¡°I have to free her.¡±

    Sweat dripped to the floor as the chains halted his momentum.

    ¡°I have to free her.¡±

    He was stripped down to his briefs, blood oozing from his chafed knees.

    Kint crouched in front of the man, getting a closer look.

    Mr. Syfeeli had a pale face and sunken bloodshot eyes. It was clear that he was in poor health. The smell of drink was apparent.

    Kint narrowed his eyes.

    Was this madness?

    Or was it an act.

    ¡°I have to free her.¡­ I have to free her.¡±

    The merchant stared straight ahead, eyes devoid of emotion.

    ¡°I have to free her. I have to free her.¡±

    The chorus came again and again.

    ¡°You seem to have lost your clothes, friend.¡± Kint began.

    ¡°Have to free her. I have to free her.¡±

    ¡°Probably for the best.¡± He continued. ¡°You made a real mess out there.¡±

    ¡°I have to free her. I have to free her.¡±

    Kint reached out, swiping two fingers across the man¡¯s forearm, paving a pale line through skin dyed red with blood.

    ¡°I know you didn¡¯t mean to do it.¡± He noted.

    ¡°I have to free her. I have to free her.¡±

    ¡°The way you placed her arms. Removing your cloths.¡±

    ¡°I have to free her.¡±

    ¡°Your guilt is plain as day, friend.¡±

    The chorus continued.

    Kint sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

    Why was he doing this?

    If the man was intent on acting like a fool, why not let him?

    What did he care?

    ¡°I get it¡­¡± Kint continued, trying another angle. ¡°Wives are demanding¡­ And a beauty like yours...¡±

    The Inspector shook his head.

    ¡°I can only imagine.¡±

    There was a change in the man¡¯s movements.

    ¡°Keeping them happy is a tough task.¡±

    Kint looked down at his hands, rubbing them together.

    ¡°You move mountains to make their dreams come true¡­ and then when they do come true, it¡¯s never enough, is it?¡±

    ¡°I have to¡­¡±

    The man stammered a bit.

    ¡°I have to free her.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what you did here¡­ isn¡¯t it, Mr. Syfeeli. Made dreams a reality.¡±

    Kint looked around, taking in the splendor of the home.

    ¡°I¡­ I have to free her.¡±

    The swaying slowed further.

    ¡°You built her a beautiful house, filled it with beautiful things, threw parties with drink and dancing.¡±

    ¡°I have to free her.¡±

    ¡°But things changed¡­¡± Kint frowned. ¡°Didn¡¯t they, Mr. Syfeeli?¡±

    There was a subtle flinch around the man''s eyes.

    ¡°You had to sell the paintings, the furniture¡­ even the drapes.¡±

    Kint shook his head.

    ¡°How embarrassing that must have been for her.¡± He mused.

    ¡°I have to free her¡­¡±

    ¡°To be trapped in a prison of your shame.¡±

    ¡°I have to free her¡­ I had to¡­¡±

    ¡°Because you couldn¡¯t do your basic duty¡­ and provide.¡±

    ¡°I had to¡­ I¡­¡±

    The gears in Mr. Syfeeli¡¯s mind were jammed.

    He was stuck.

    Kint could see anger twitching at the corner of his eyes.

    ¡°You had to end it¡­¡± The Inspecter soothed. ¡°It was the best thing for everyone. The best thing for her especially.¡±

    ¡°I¡­ I¡­¡±

    ¡°You had to set her free.¡± Kint whispered.

    The man opened his mouth, but no words left his cracked lips.

    Kint smiled.

    He could feel he was pushing up against something. Breaking through.

    Those hollow eyes were ever so close to sanity.

    But then it was gone.

    ¡°I have to free her. I have to free her.¡±

    The chanting began again, the swaying restarted.

    Kint sighed, sitting back on his heels.

    He was so close. So close to certainty.

    But this man''s act, if it was an act, was well practiced.

    Kint stood, striding to the door, peeking his head around. There was no one nearby.

    He moved back to the Mr. Syfeeli with purpose. Crouching in front of the man.

    He needed to know, there could be no doubts when it came to Rot.

    He closed his eyes, bringing the intense concentration of the Silent State tight around him.

    In the stillness of his mind, there was a light.

    His well of power.

    With a tempting glow from deep within, it called to him. Begging him to touch it. To plum its depths. To tap into it¡¯s glorious energy.

    He did.

    Reaching out, he took hold of the power.

    An exhilarating heat flooded his chest, traversing well hewn channels into his eyes.

    He opened them.

    Glowing a deep purple, they vibrated with power, shrouded in Wave Energy.

    His gift of Dowsing, finally released.

    He saw the world in radiant color. The Deeper truth laid bare.

    Magic, in all its shapes and forms, was painted across his vision in ways Apostles could only dream of.

    Everything that was touched by magic, he could see its aura. The Mage Grown bed glowed green, the walls emanated a translucent white, the glass of the windows had a yellow hue, The Shroud itself¡­ he could feel it...spiraling its wispy tendrils around the house, searching for a way in.

    The energy greeted him like an old friend¡­ A dangerous friend. One that could get him into trouble if he wasn¡¯t careful.

    As good as it felt, Kint lessened his energy output, feeling the drain on his well of power slow. Unlike Elsha, he did not have the power to waste. He was only a Shaper level Mage.

    He sharpened his focus to just the room in front of him.

    The world stilled as he surveyed the space.

    Several faint glows caught his eye. The wood floors were a dim green, the stone ceilings and walls were white, and there was something else¡­ A thick translucent energy coated the room. It could be nothing. Just residual magic from the Shroud.

    But¡­

    Kint steeled himself. He knew he was avoiding what he needed to look at¡­

    He gritted his teeth.

    The room was still, silent.

    He examined Mr. Syfeeli up and down, paying close attention to his head and chest¡­

    His eyes narrowed.

    For a moment, he felt there might be something¡­ A resonance... He pushed deeper, spending more energy, draining his well.

    His eyes strained¡­

    But there was nothing.

    Tension released from his neck and shoulders, a bead of sweat dripping from his brow.

    He¡¯d expended a quarter of his energy in the Dowsing, but he was glad he¡¯d done it.

    Kint sighed.

    A simple answer.

    He released the Silent State.

    The thick vail of focus dropped from his eyes, the world returned to its normal shades.

    He shook his head, gathering himself to stand.

    Kint looked up, and froze.

    Crimson eyes, stared into his own. Black slitted pupils carving nightmares deep into his soul.

    A rictus smile split the once emotionless face of Mr. Syfeeli.

    ¡°There you are....¡± The creature whispered.

    The voice was low and raspy. From a place deep within.

    The air was still.

    Kint was locked in place, afraid to look away from those eyes.

    And that smile. It assaulted him with its hunger.

    Kint stumbled back¡­

    ¡­ and Syfeeli was on him.

    Leaping forward, pulling the bedpost right off the bed.

    His manacled hands latched onto Kints throat, throwing him backward to the ground. ¡°You have to free her!¡± Screamed the man, ¡°You have to save her!¡±

    Kint was caught off guard, unnerved by the situation, mind reeling. The light at the corners of his eyes was already fading. The manic merchant straddled him, lifting him by the throat, and slamming him to the dark wood floor.

    Kint¡¯s eyes sparkled, his ears rang.

    Again, the man pulled him up, throwing his head to the ground.

    He gripped at Kint¡¯s collar, bringing them face to face.

    ¡°You have to find her.¡± Syfeeli hissed.

    Kint could barely hear through the ringing in his ears.

    His vision blurred, as he was slammed to the floor once more.

    ¡°You have to¨C¡±

    The man''s screams cut off. A bright red orange flame seared around his neck. Kint¡¯s head fell back again, released from the madman¡¯s grip.

    Syfeeli clutched at his own throat. His fingers singed as they touched Elsha¡¯s flaming whip.

    Kint could hear the man''s skin splitting as he was ripped backwards, out the door. His partner reeling him in.

    He rolled to his side, rubbing the back of his head.

    ¡°Kint!¡±

    The Inspector got to his knees. Rubbing his eyes.

    ¡°Kint!¡±

    He looked in the direction of the voice. Vision coming into focus.

    Elsha was pulling on her Dominations Rod with both hands. Syfeeli strained hard against her efforts.

    She gave him an exasperated look.

    ¡°Enjoying the show?¡±

    Oh¡­Right.

    Kint stumbled to his feet, barrelling out the door.

    Elsha was pulled hard at the whip, ripping Syfeeli off his feet.

    He squealed in rage and pain, hands struggling to gain purchase on the fiery coil.

    Kint stumbled around the table and grabbed the screaming man by the shirt.

    Rearing back, he socked Mr. Syfeeli in the face.

    Blood splattered across the dark wood floor.

    The man continued to struggle.

    Kint hit him again and again and again.

    He hit the man until blood from his knuckles was added to that of the murderer''s face.

    Syfeeli went limp.

    The room was silent but for the heavy breathing of the two Inspectors.

    The flaming whip uncoiled from the unconscious man¡¯s neck, retracting back into Elsha¡¯ domination stick.

    Kint bent over the man, checking under his eyelids.

    They were normal.

    His partner let out a deep breath, shaking her head.

    ¡°Are you okay?¡± She asked.

    ¡°Yeah.¡± Kint replied, taking deep breaths of his own. ¡°Yeah.¡±

    They took another few seconds to catch their breath.

    ¡°There¡¯s a wagon outside to take him.¡± Elsha commented.

    ¡°Perfect.¡± Kint said.

    He was ready to be gone from this place.

    ¡°What did you say to him?¡± Elsha asked, confused.

    ¡°Nothing.¡± Kint replied, not meeting her eyes. ¡°He just¡­ attacked me.¡±

    ¡°Kint...¡± She pressed. ¡°When I checked on him, he was near catatonic. You must have done something.¡±

    ¡°I did nothing, Elsha¡± Kint snapped. ¡°One minute he was spouting gibberish, the next he was on me.¡±

    She raised a skeptical eyebrow, but did not press the issue.

    ¡°Let¡¯s just get this prick out of here.¡± He offered. ¡°Shall we?¡±

    The two Inspectors dragged the prisoner outside.

    They threw him in the back of a locked carriage, two officers in Vorvan colors riding with him back to HQ.

    They watched the carriage as it disappeared down the road, into the morning¡¯s fog.

    ¡°Do you think we could have gotten a ride?¡± Elsha asked.

    Kint cocked his head to one side.

    ¡°Probably.¡±

    Elsha snorted a laugh.

    They started walking.

    They strode in silence for several minutes before Kint broke it.

    ¡°Thank you¡­¡± He grumbled, staring ahead. ¡°For what you did back there.¡±

    Elsha looked at Kint, expectant.

    ¡°You saved my life.¡± He admitted. ¡°I won¡¯t forget it.¡±

    He looked up from the solemn stones below, to meet his partners eyes.

    She was grinning.

    ¡°Took a lot for you to admit that, didn''t it?¡± She poked.

    ¡°Don¡¯t expect you¡¯ll ever hear it again.¡± Kint growled.

    He looked away, hiding his own grin.

    A comfortable silence fell over the Inspectors. The steady sound of boots on cobblestones carrying them on to HQ.

 Chapter 3 - HQ

    The Inspectors arrived in Kelseen Square covered in sweat.

    They moved slowly through the crowd.

    The District center was bustling with patrons for the lunch hour. Hawkers, criers, and hustlers, shouted their wears to entice laborers and merchants.

    Fire exploded in the air above, drawing ¡®oh¡¯s¡¯ and ¡®aah¡¯s¡¯ from the crowd.

    Two massive birds of fire and water danced around each other in a perilous fight. Sparks and steam exploded whenever they made contact.

    ¡°Lord Crecius is showing off today.¡± Elsha commented.

    ¡°I wonder what the bad news is.¡± Kint replied.

    The two inspectors meandered through the throngs of people. Making their way toward the pillared entrance of District Headquarters.

    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± Elsha exclaimed. ¡°Someone¡¯s got a bit of an audience today.¡±

    Kint pushed past a colorfully dressed merchant, spotting a small gathering of laborers.

    They were standing next to the steep marbled staircase that led into HQ. A voice cried over their heads, but Kint struggled to hear the words.

    ¡°Let¡¯s get a better view.¡± He suggested, moving up the staircase to look down on the crowd.

    It was a dour crew. Six or seven men in dirty laborers grays, each sporting an assortment of scars. Their faces were heavy with lack of sleep, eyes shot through with stress.

    The men¡¯s gazes were fixed to a young priest of the Prophet, standing atop a wooden box.

    The holy man looked almost as tattered as his listeners. White coat dusted with the browns and grays of the road.

    ¡°You have seen it!¡± The young man cried, voice alive with passion. ¡°You have all seen it!¡±

    The man had a bit more vigor today.

    ¡°We have lost our way¡­¡± He continued, sweeping a hand over the crowd. ¡°The spark is gone, the passion is gone¡­ We toil in the dark without hope.¡±

    Kint glanced at the crowd. The words seemed to land with the hopeless men.

    ¡°¡®For the good of all¡¯¡± He began again, ¡°We hear it time and again¡­ In factories and workshops. Starting a second shift at the mill¡­¡± His eyes burned with intensity. ¡°¡®For the good of all¡¯¡± He repeated, shaking his head. ¡°Never have the Prophet¡¯s words rung so hollow.¡±

    Kint saw nods in the crowd. He and Elsha shared a glance.

    ¡°¡®For the good of all¡¯ they say, as they carry the fruits of your labor into The Canopy.¡± The Priest cocked his head to one side. ¡°Does District 13 ever see those fruits in our midst? Do our Lord¡¯s magics make our lives better?¡± He questioned.

    There were murmurs of ''no¡¯ from the small crowd.

    ¡°The Prophet¡¯s first Tenet says ¡®For the good of all¡¯. But, the only good we get is a light show at lunch.¡±

    He pointed to the battling magic birds above.

    ¡°But, what can we do?¡± He shrugged. ¡°We¡¯re just Kadenites in Kade City. What can we do?¡±

    The men in the crowd frowned. It was a common refrain.

    ¡°Two things.¡± The priest stated, holding up his fingers. ¡°You can hold your Mayor to account. For he is your voice to the Ignatium.¡± His head turned across the crowd, meeting eyes with each man. ¡°And you can meet me back here tomorrow.¡± He grinned. ¡°For there is much more to be said.¡±

    There were several grunts from the beaten crowd, but none stayed to chat.

    ¡°That was pretty good.¡± Elsha commented, climbing the stairs.

    ¡°The end was a bit dubious.¡± Kint grumbled, rubbing a sleeve across his sweaty forehead.

    ¡°Fezzy¡¯s not going to be happy about that.¡± She noted.

    ¡°He¡¯s not gonna be happy about any of it.¡±

    ¡°True.¡± She grabbed one of the double doors, gesturing him inside.

    ¡°You know.¡± They turned, climbing another flight of stairs. ¡°It wasn¡¯t much of a Sermon really.¡±

    ¡°He did mention the Tenet¡¯s.¡± Kint argued.

    ¡°Hardly.¡± She snorted.

    They made their way to the third floor. Moving through another set of double doors, into the Law Enforcement offices.

    Rows of Officers sat at desks across the room, filling out reports, and filing papers.

    The two made their way to their own seats at the back.

    The Mayor¡¯s office was right behind them, shades pulled down to shield the goings on inside.

    Kint sat, facing his partner.

    Elsha reached down into a drawer, pulling out a silver thermos. She placed her palm against the bottom of the cylinder.

    Steam began to rise from inside.

    She opened the cap, taking a whiff of the soothing smell.

    ¡°Mmmm.¡± She cooed.

    ¡°Where¡¯d you get that?¡± Kint asked.

    ¡°I had it sent down.¡± She grinned.

    He snorted. Reminded again of how The Blessed had a different set of expectations for the world.

    ¡°You can have some.¡± She offered, with a pitying look. ¡°That is, if you forgot your lunch.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll find something in the squa¨C¡± He paused, feeling a bulge in one of his cloak pockets. Reaching inside, he pulled out a lightly bruised plum.

    Elsha shook her head.

    ¡°She treats you too well.¡±

    Kint grinned, pulling his Stalwart knife free of its sheath at his hip, ready to cut into the fruit. The well kept blade gleamed in the sunlight through the side window.

    ¡°Whoa there old man.¡± A young voice called.

    ¡°That thing looks sharp.¡± Another chimed in, ¡°You could cut yourself.¡±

    ¡°Hello, boys.¡± Elsha greeted.

    The Cleerey twins, Inspectors Himbult and Hawyer, approached.

    ¡°You¡¯re looking extra glossy today.¡± She commented, noting the heavy tanning powder on their faces.

    ¡°Some of us have ambitions.¡± Himbult smirked.

    ¡°We like to look good.¡± Hawyer added. ¡°Never know when an important mission might come up.¡±

    ¡°Speaking of which.¡± Himbult jumped in, ¡°I heard you two caught a couple sinners this morning.¡±

    Kint frowned.

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    ¡°It wasn¡¯t a big deal.¡± Elsha shrugged, taking a sip from her thermos. ¡°Just a bit of cleaning up.¡±

    ¡°What about you, Kint?¡± Hawyer asked, ¡°Must be hard to do a cleansing from outside the house. How do you pull it off?¡±

    ¡°Very carefully.¡± Kint replied.

    The twins frowned, not getting the response they¡¯d hoped for.

    Kint glanced at his partner.

    She shook her head. She hadn¡¯t told them.

    Himbult reached out, grabbing the pear from Kint¡¯s hand.

    The aged Inspector raised an eyebrow at the young man.

    ¡°You weren¡¯t going to eat this were you?¡±

    The twin took a bite of the fruit.

    ¡°It¡¯s a bit too much for a sensitive stomach like yours.¡± Hawyer sneered.

    Kint¡¯s frown deepened, but he let the comment lie.

    ¡°Aren¡¯t you two getting married tomorrow?¡± Elsha asked. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you be getting ready for that?¡±

    ¡°Yes we are.¡± Hawyer replied.

    ¡°Unlike you two, we actually have to do our jobs.¡± Himbult added.

    Kint¡¯s brow furrowed.

    ¡°You¡¯re both getting married?¡± He asked, confused.

    They nodded.

    ¡°Not only do we do our jobs, but we live our lives as well.¡± Hawyer quipped.

    ¡°You¡¯re both getting married¡± Elsha repeated, a look of shock on her pretty face. ¡°To different women?¡±

    ¡°Of course, you cunt.¡± Himbult spat.

    ¡°Incredible.¡± Elsha muttered, ignoring the jab.

    ¡°Where did you find them?¡± She mused, ¡°A monastery for the mentally infirm?¡±

    ¡°Shut up, wench.¡± Himbult seethed.

    ¡°Whore.¡± Hawyer added.

    Elsha¡¯s eye twitch at that last insult, but she kept her smile.

    ¡°Come on.¡± Hawyer moved to leave, gesturing for his brother to follow.

    Himbult lingered, taking another bite of the pear, then tossing it into Kint¡¯s lap.

    ¡°Tasty.¡± He smiled, juices dripping down his chin.

    ¡°Your makeup is running.¡± Elsha noted.

    The man¡¯s smile soured.

    He turned, catching up with his brother.

    Elsha took a sip from her thermos, enjoying its warmth.

    ¡°God¡¯s, they¡¯re the worst.¡± She sighed.

    ¡°You know,¡± She began, meeting his eyes. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t let them push you around like that.¡±

    Kint shrugged, noncommittal.

    ¡°They¡¯re just going to keep doing it.¡± She pressed, a hint of concern on her face.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± Kint replied, reaching into his cloak and pulling out another plum. ¡°It doesn¡¯t really bother me.¡±

    He grabbed his knife, cutting a slice from the fruit, and popping it in his mouth with a smile.

    A small grin bloomed on her face.

    ¡°I guess not.¡± Elsha laughed.

    The two ate in silence after that. Enjoying their meals.

    The door to the Mayor¡¯s office flew open. A squirrely administrator scurrying out.

    ¡°It¡¯s red this time! Red dammit! It should go straight to the Lord¡¯s eyes.¡±

    An administrator scurried through the door, jumbled papers fluttering in her grasp.

    ¡°And send those two assholes in, will you?¡±

    ¡°Who¨C¡± The administrator began.

    ¡°Archaedis and Gray!¡± He cut her off. ¡°I need to see them now!¡±

    The mayors office was lit by pale yellow light from the side window. The air was musty and smelled of sweat.

    Mayor Fezzeline sat hunched over a pile of papers marked with red and yellow tabs. Missives from all over the district.

    Sweat beaded on the man¡¯s bulbous face.

    His breath was ragged, lungs constricted by his abundant size.

    He looked up, wiping his face with a sleeve. Noticing the two inspectors at the door, he gestured them in.

    ¡°Good. You¡¯re here.¡± He pointed to the leather chairs before him. ¡°Sit.¡±

    They sat.

    ¡°You look dreadful, Fezzy.¡± Elsha commented.

    ¡°Yes, well¡­ I feel worse.¡± He said, scratching his signature across a missive. ¡°I have a lot on my plate, so no time for pleasantries.¡±

    Fezzeline looked up, meeting their eyes.

    ¡°Tell me, how it went this morning.¡± He asked. ¡°Any trouble?¡±

    ¡°Just a family of four.¡± Elsha chirped. ¡°They didn¡¯t put up much of a fight.¡±

    She frowned, like she¡¯d hoped they would.

    ¡°Right¡­¡± Fezzeline replied, uncomfortable. ¡°So¡­ an easy cleanup.¡±

    ¡°Easy enough.¡±

    ¡°It better be.¡± He said, annoyed. ¡°The Erasure crews were up my ass on the last one.¡±

    ¡°Oh, Fezzy.¡± She cooed. ¡°It was one time.¡±

    ¡°It was twice.¡± He snapped. ¡°And don¡¯t call me that.¡±

    ¡°You know could always have the Overseer''s do it, like they''re supposed to...Mayor Fezzeline." She mocked.

    "If it was up to me, I would... trust me." The Mayor replied. "But Lord Crecius doesn''t trust them. Thinks they''re corrupted."

    "He''s an extra careful one isn''t he." Elsha noted.

    The Mayor let out a deep sigh, ignoring the comment.

    ¡°So, what happened in the Merchant¡¯s quarter?¡± He asked, interlocking his fingers. ¡°Payter tells me it¡¯s settled. Is that true?¡±

    ¡°True enough.¡± Kint replied. ¡°Just a lover''s quarrel gone wrong.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± The Mayor frowned.

    ¡°Archaedis here almost died.¡± Elsha noted, ¡°Syfeeli had him by the throat.¡±

    Kint grimaced.

    ¡°Is that true?¡± Fezzeline looked surprised.

    ¡°He caught me off guard, that¡¯s all.¡± Kint grumbled. ¡°People who kill their wives are hard to predict.¡±

    The Mayor cocked his head.

    ¡°Was it the rot?¡± He asked, face severe.

    ¡°No.¡± Kint replied, confident.

    ¡°You¡¯re sure?¡±

    The man¡¯s eyes narrowed.

    ¡°The man¡¯s business has been failing for months.¡± Kint said. ¡°They sold the furniture, the paintings, even the drapes. I¡¯m guessing the wife didn¡¯t take it too well. Mr. Syfeeli was drunk, they had an argument, and the man just snapped.¡±

    ¡°Hmm.¡± Fezzeline nodded, considering. ¡°What a shame.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Kint frowned.

    ¡°They threw quite the party.¡± The Mayor commented. ¡°I attended a few this summer.¡±

    ¡°You went to those?¡± Elsha asked, surprised.

    ¡°The Mayor must be seen among the people.¡± He shrugged.

    ¡°They were into some pretty raunchy stuff.¡± Kint¡¯s partner noted.

    ¡°Well, I wasn¡¯t there for any of that.¡± Fezzline snapped, cheeks reddening.

    ¡°Are you sure, Fezzy?¡± Elsha asked, a predatory grin on her face. ¡°Their pleasure room was extensive.¡±

    Kint gave her a withering look.

    ¡°What? I can investigate things too.¡± She argued. ¡°Did you know they had a Root Network Node?¡±

    ¡°Who didn¡¯t?¡± Fezzeline griped. ¡°The man wouldn¡¯t stop talking about all the work he was doing with Lord Crecius. Needed a direct line to the Lord, he said.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t take you for a socialite, Fezzy.¡± Elsha mused. ¡°Makes me so proud.¡±

    ¡°Anyway¡­¡± The Mayor coughed. ¡°So, what I¡¯m hearing is¡­ no Rot?¡±

    His eyes shifted to Kint.

    Kint shook his head.

    ¡°No Rot.¡± He soothed.

    Fezzeline let out a deep sigh.

    ¡°You need to relax, Fezzy.¡± Elsha noted. ¡°Maybe take a few days off.¡±

    ¡°No chance of that.¡± He chuckled, gesturing to the mountains of papers on his desk. ¡°I¡¯ve got far too much to deal with right now.

    ¡°Is there anything we can do to help?¡± She replied.

    Kint kicked his partner¡¯s ankle.

    ¡®Ow.¡¯ She mouthed.

    The mayor looked pensive. Weighing the risks of accepting such an offer.

    ¡°I guess I can tell you.¡± He muttered, shuffling through papers before he found a small rolled up missive.

    He handed it over.

    ¡°These messages have been coming into the city for weeks now.¡±

    She took it, unrolling the message.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know how they get in, but the Kadenites love them.¡±

    Elsha snorted a laugh, passing the paper over to Kint.

    ¡°We think they¡¯re using the information pipelines, but if the couriers know how it¡¯s done they aren¡¯t saying.¡± He added. ¡°Lord Crecius has his Acolytes on them like a vice.¡±

    The missive had a drawing on it. It depicted a large ostentatiously dressed Lord Crecius, sitting on a wooden seat with a hole where the bottom should be. Beneath the hole was a huddled mass of Kadenites struggling to blow air on the Lord¡¯s exposed ass. Above the Lord was a quote saying ¡®I love these heated seats.¡¯ At the base of the note was a message that read ¡®Remember the First¡¯.

    ¡°Whoever is writing them. He calls himself The Sentinel.¡± Fezzeline finished.

    Kint snorted, meeting his partner''s eyes.

    ¡°Interesting coincidence.¡± Kint noted.

    ¡°Right.¡± Elsha agreed.

    ¡°What?¡± The Mayor cut in. ¡°What am I missing?¡±

    ¡°That crier boy outside.¡± Elsha answered. ¡°He had a bit of a crowd today.¡±

    Fezzeline raised an eyebrow, looking for more information.

    ¡°His sermon was about the first Tenet.¡± Kint added.

    The Mayor grimaced.

    ¡°Probably just a coincidence.¡± He muttered. ¡°Whoever it is, we¡¯ll sort it out. Lord Crecius has his men working this and I¡¯ve lent the Cleerey boys, as well.¡±

    ¡°So that¡¯s why they were so cocky this morning.¡± Elsha commented.

    ¡°If you see any more coincidences like that, let me know.¡± Fezzeline added. ¡°But, don¡¯t spend too much time on it. I¡¯ve a feeling you¡¯ll be needed elsewhere in the coming days.¡±

    Kint frowned. That was ominous.

    ¡°You should keep your head on a swivel too, Fezzy¡± Elsha chimed in, ¡°That Crier spun his words in your direction.¡±

    Fezzeline gave her a simmering glare.

    ¡°Oh joy.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the spirit¡± She chirped, ¡°Keep your chin up.¡±

    ¡°Get out.¡± The mayor said, rubbing a hand to his temple.

    Kint didn¡¯t need to be told twice, pulling his partner from the room before she could say anything else.

 Chapter 4 - Home

    It was early evening by the time Kint arrived home.

    The sun glowed a deep red through the lingering Shroud. Shadows reached across cracked stone streets, reclaiming land from the day.

    Kint¡¯s thoughts were a jumble, leaning against the wooden door of his home.

    The Sentinel, the Crier, the murders¡­ and red eyes.

    The Mayors words lingered in his mind.

    What might they be needed for in the days to come?

    The sun¡¯s ember went out on his back.

    Kint couldn¡¯t shake the feeling, things were going to get worse.

    He turned the handle.

    The soothing glow of a lamplit home greeted him.

    A fire was burning in the fireplace down the hall, a hot stove beside it. In front of the fire were two cushioned leather chairs

    Kint removed his rumpled black coat, placing it on the rack by the door.

    He paused, hand brushing against a flakey crust of dried blood.

    ¡°I¡¯ve found you.¡±

    The words echoed in his ears.

    ¡­ and those red eyes.

    ¡°You¡¯re Late¡­¡±

    A stern voice startled him back to reality.

    Kint looked down the hall to see his daughters face peaking around the corner of a cushioned chair, hair falling like a dark curtain around her face.

    A warmth bloomed in his chest, the worries of earlier washed away.

    ¡°I thought I might skip dinner tonight.¡± He smiled, ¡°I found a couple peaches in my pockets today, and they just about filled me up.¡±

    His daughter smiled, dimples wrinkling her cheeks.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t know who put those there. But, they must be very smart.¡±

    He sighed. He was home in that smile.

    Kint loosened his tie, entering the living room.

    ¡°You sound more like your mother every day.¡± He noted, making his way to the dining table.

    ¡°Someone has to feed you.¡± She chided, ¡°Or you¡¯ll start looking older than you already do.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m older than I¡¯ve ever been, Nessa.¡± Kint quipped.

    ¡°You¡¯re 45!¡± She cried, offended.

    ¡°That¡¯s pretty old for me.¡± He croaked, with a sly grin.

    Nessa rolled her eyes, sitting forward in her chair.

    Kint looked down at the table. There were two lit candles on its surface. All the ingredients for a delicious stew were laid out. The potatoes, onions, carrots, and celery had been peeled, cleaned, and placed into neat piles. Nessa had even dressed a chicken, removing the feathers, and getting rid of all the innards. A large cast iron stock pot sat at the edge of the table, dark lid set to the side.

    ¡°This looks good.¡± Kint commented. ¡°But, you¡¯ve forgotten some things.¡±

    He pointed to the unchopped vegetables and uncarved chicken.

    ¡°I shouldn¡¯t be using knives at my age.¡± She lectured. ¡°And I have school work to do.¡±

    ¡°A little too much like your mother.¡± Kint grumbled, pulling his Stalwart Knife from its sheath.

    ¡°What are you working on?¡± He asked.

    ¡°The Apostles, and their Deeds.¡± She responded, focused.

    ¡°Oh, which ones?¡±

    ¡°The Founders.¡± She said, scritching away with her pencil.

    ¡°Hmm¡­¡± He muttered, chewing on a carrot. ¡°I thought that was first year stuff.¡±

    ¡°First year was just rhymes and songs.¡± She explained, enthusiastic. ¡°Now we get to learn the details.¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­¡± He said, nibbling on an onion. ¡°Like the Sixth.¡±

    Nessa was silent for a moment.

    ¡°No¡­¡± She muttered, solemn.

    Kint looked over his shoulder, seeing a frown on his daughter''s face.

    ¡°Erie says the Sixth isn¡¯t real.¡± She sulked.

    Kint flinched, realizing he¡¯d brought up something he shouldn¡¯t have.

    ¡°Don¡¯t listen to Erie.¡± He said, giving his most confident smile. ¡°You¡¯ll learn about the Sixth when you¡¯re older. That¡¯s all.¡±

    She gave him a skeptical eye.

    ¡°Ok¡­¡±

    ¡°Here¡­¡± He grunted, pouring ingredients in the pot. ¡°How ¡®bout, when you¡¯re done, I quiz you? Make sure you¡¯ve got it all up here.¡±

    He tapped his temple.

    ¡°Okay!¡± She chirped, excited.

    ¡°Right.¡± He smiled, diverting a small crisis.

    Five minutes later, the pot was on the stove, and Kint was puffing contentedly on his pipe. He sat comfortably in his cushioned chair, one leg crossed over the other. Ness worked beside him, reading books and filling out worksheets. The zealous intensity of her gaze reminded him so much of Carolin.

    Kint released a contented sigh¡­ Which soon turned into a snore.

    ¡­

    ¡°Done!¡±

    Kint woke from his slumber, shaking himself alert.

    He grunted, clearing his throat.

    The Inspector put his pipe to his mouth to take a puff, but it had gone out. He grimaced, resting it on the table beside him.

    ¡°Alright.¡± He grunted, gathering himself. ¡°So¡­ The founding Apostles, is it?¡±

    Nessa confirmed with a sharp nod.

    ¡°I guess¡­ we should begin with the First.¡± He looked up, sorting through memories to find the right information.

    A wave of exhaustion came on him, all at once. He was so tired¡­ So achy¡­ He rubbed at the back of his head, feeling pain and dried blood from this morning. He blinked hard, shaking his head.

    ¡°You know what sweetheart.¡± He started, giving Nessa an apologetic look. ¡°Do you mind if we do this tomorrow? It¡¯s been a rough day.¡±

    ¡°Papa¡­¡± She cocked her head, annoyed. ¡°You said you¡¯d quiz me¡­¡±

    ¡°I know, I know¡­ It¡¯s just.¡± He sighed, memories of Syfeeli¡¯s attack and crimson eyes flooded his mind.

    He worked his jaw, feeling a ringing in his ears.

    ¡°Papa¡­¡± She pleaded. ¡°You promised.¡±

    Kint blinked heavily, shaking his head. There was a growing pressure behind his forehead.

    Just quiz her. How many other chances are you gonna have if things get worse¡­ take advantage of this time.

    ¡°Papa¡­¡± Her voice pleaded.

    ¡°Fine.¡± He relented, ¡°But, just general stuff, alright? Nothing too specific. It¡¯s been a while.¡±

    ¡°Yes!¡± She said, bouncing in her chair with excitement.

    He smiled at the sight of her joy.

    The ringing faded from his ears, pressure relenting.

    ¡°Alright then¡­ Who¡­ was the first Apostle?¡± He started. ¡°And how did he and the Prophet meet?¡± Kint asked.

    ¡°Clarette Syphone was the first Apostle and She¡­¡± His daughter emphasized, ¡°...was the Noblewoman who saved Halvash from the slums.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± Kint nodded, ¡°And why was she so special? Orphans get adopted all the time.¡±

    ¡°She took in the Prophet even though she was a noble and he was a beggar, which was not done at the time.¡± She quoted.

    ¡°And what lesson did Halvash Ignus take from his time with the Allmother?¡± Kint asked.

    ¡°He learned that help can come from anywhere.¡± Nessa recited.

    Kint grunted in approval.

    ¡°And it should be given when it is needed. No matter the differences.¡± He added, ¡°In class, religion, or creed.¡±

    Nessa looked at him, skeptical.

    ¡°What?¡± He asked.

    ¡°That¡¯s not in the book.¡±

    Kint looked at her, confused.

    ¡°It was in mine¡­¡± He argued.

    What were they teaching the kids these days?

    ¡°I don¡¯t think they¡¯re going to quiz me on what was in your book, Papa.¡± She quipped.

    ¡°Alright, smart one.¡± He said wryly. ¡°We¡¯ll stick to the book.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s skip around this time.¡± Kint started again, ¡°How about the Fourth Apostle¡­ Tell me about him.¡±

    ¡°The Fourth Apostle was Jocinder Doene, The Politician.¡± Nessa began. ¡°His first great deed was to negotiate the release of Kalavan Korth, the third Apostle, from the Govan Empire. He did it¡­¡± She paused for dramatic effect, ¡°... Using only his political acumen, his cunning, and a well placed lie.¡±

    She finished with a flourish.

    ¡°You like the Fourth Apostle don¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°I think he¡¯s amazing.¡± She replied, reverent. ¡°To go to the Govan empire, The Prophet¡¯s greatest enemy, free your friend, and get away with it only using words¡­ Incredible.¡±

    ¡°But he lied.¡± Kint countered, serious.

    ¡°He did it to save his friend.¡± She replied, voice innocent.

    ¡°So you¡¯re saying it¡¯s okay to lie as long as it¡¯s for a friend?¡± Kint questioned, face stern.

    ¡°Yes¡­?¡± She said slowly, following her instincts.

    ¡°And if I told you¡­That Jocinder¡¯s lie caused a civil war in the Govan Empire.¡± He raised an eyebrow. ¡°A war that hurt a lot of people¡­ Was it a good lie then?¡±

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    Nessa frowned, perplexed.

    ¡°And after The Fourth Apostle returned, how do you think the Prophet greeted him? With open arms like a hero?¡± Kint asked.

    Nessa shook her head slowly.

    ¡°No¡­¡± He affirmed. ¡°The Prophet had him flogged, in front of the Apostles and all his people.¡±

    A meaningful silence lingering.

    ¡°Can you think of why the Prophet would do that?¡± He asked.

    ¡°Because lying is bad.¡± She frowned.

    ¡°Exactly.¡± Kint nodded. ¡°He wanted to show his people that lies have consequences, for those who speak them, those who hear them, and the thousand more after.¡±

    ¡°Ok¡­¡± Nessa said slowly, digesting the words.

    ¡°But, Papa¡­¡± She hesitated. ¡°... I don¡¯t think any of the stuff you said is in the book either.¡±

    He snorted.

    ¡°The Apostles write the books, Sweetheart.¡±

    Nessa cocked her head, confused.

    He shouldn¡¯t have said that.

    ¡°Anyway¡­¡± He stammered. ¡°Let¡¯s talk about the Second Apostle. Tell me about him.¡±

    Nessa gave him a skeptical eye, but she moved on, telling him of The Magistrate, Seevert Inkhold, and the General, Kalavan Korth. She recited their deeds and details from memory, like she had written the book herself.

    They finished off with the tale of Alshash Vorva, the Scholar, and Founding Apostle of their own District.

    Before they knew it, the stew was done, its savory aroma filling the room.

    They ate dinner in silence. The stew helped soothe the anxieties of Kint¡¯s day, relaxing him to the point where sleep was near at hand.

    He urged his daughter to bed after dinner. But, not before having the promise of tucking her in extracted from him.

    Kint heard a door close as the girl readied for bed.

    He wiped sweat from his brow, rubbing his temples as a headache pressed behind his forehead.

    He lit another pipe, smoking its sweet leaf as he cleaned.

    The old Inspector sat down in his leather chair. Puffing at his pipe, enjoying the stillness, and the warmth of the evening air.

    ¡°I¡¯m ready!¡± Nessa called behind him.

    Quick footsteps followed as she hastened to her bed.

    Kint groaned, feeling creaks and snaps from in his body as he stood.

    He rubbed at the back of his neck, careful to avoid the bruises on his head.

    The Inspector trudged to his daughters bedroom door, taking a deep breath.

    He would be in and out. Quick as that.

    Kint entered the room.

    Nessa was in bed, blue and white sheets pulled up to her neck, held there by delicate fingers.

    He smiled, feeling that familiar warmth in his chest.

    ¡°Are you gonna tuck me in, Papa?¡± She asked, voice sweet as sugar.

    ¡°Of course, Sweetheart.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not too tired?¡± She questioned.

    Kint gave her a withering look.

    He moved from the left side of the bed to the right, pulling blankets under the mattress all the way around. He stretched them taught like a wire mesh.

    Nessa giggled as the sheets tightened around her.

    When he was done, Kint knelt down, giving her a kiss on the forehead.

    ¡°Goodnight.¡± He cooed.

    He moved to leave.

    ¡°Papa¡­¡± She whispered, hesitant.

    Kint suppressed a sigh.

    ¡°Yes, sweety.¡±

    ¡°Can you tell me a story?¡± She asked.

    He closed his eyes.

    The ringing in his ears began again.

    ¡°Sweetheart, I told you¡­¡± He sighed, ¡°Papa is very tired.¡±

    He could feel the pressure building behind his eyes.

    ¡°I know, you said that¡­¡± She pleaded, ¡°But I can¡¯t sleep without it.¡±

    He blinked forcefully. The pressure was mounting in his forehead.

    ¡°Aren¡¯t you getting a bit old for bedtime stories?¡± He grunted, frustration mounting.

    What¡¯s the harm¡­ She¡¯s not going to be a child forever.

    He shook his head. This was getting painful.

    Just one more story. These moments are precious. You never know when it could all be stripped away.

    ¡°Fine.¡± He snapped. ¡°Fine.¡±

    The pressure faded. The ringing dimmed.

    ¡°What story do you wanna hear?¡± He asked. ¡°The Tales of Darren the Surefoot? Or Talund Lordsbane?¡±

    She gave him a sheepish smile.

    ¡°Tell me about the Sixth Apostle.¡±

    Kint frowned. Clenching his teeth.

    He took a breath to cool down. Hoping to avoid another headache.

    She¡¯s wasn¡¯t gonna let this go. He could tell.

    ¡°Alright¡­¡± He growled. ¡°I¡¯ll tell you¡­ But you can¡¯t tell your friends.¡±

    He raised a serious eyebrow at her.

    She nodded vigorously.

    ¡°And only the general stuff.¡± He qualified. ¡°You¡¯ll have to wait till you¡¯re older to get the details.¡±

    She grimaced, but eventually nodded, accepting his terms.

    ¡°And no interrupting.¡± He added. ¡°Not till it¡¯s finished.¡±

    She nodded again.

    He stared at her moment longer.

    ¡°Alright¡­¡±

    He took a breath.

    Where to start¡­

    ¡­ and how much to tell.

    Some parts of this story might be problematic, especially if she told them to her friends.

    Carolin would have known what to do here.

    But, he only knew how to tell the story one way. He¡¯d have to trust his daughter.

    He met her eyes. She had an expectant expression on her face.

    ¡°The Sixth Apostle was born Koresh Ignus.¡± He began. ¡°Brother of The Prophet, Halvash Kaden Ignus.¡±

    He grinned, watching his daughters eyes widen in amazement. She opened her mouth to speak, but he put up a hand to stop her.

    ¡°No questions till the end.¡± He reitterated.

    She nodded agreement.

    ¡°Koresh and Halvash grew up on the streets of Ignus. The two weren''t related by blood, but it was common in those times for orphans to take the name of their city as their last. The city of Ignus was rough, so they stuck together to survive, building a bond like brothers from an early age. It was a battle every day, fighting off rivals, animals, and the authorities for every scrap of food.

    The boys worked well together. Halvash was always optimistic, always seeing the best in people. While, Koresh was the opposite. Always suspicious, always planning for future, always checking to make sure they weren¡¯t being swindled or tricked.

    Unfortunately, it was this skeptical nature that kept Koresh from finding a home with Clarette Syfone. No matter how much his brother begged, the Sixth could not bring himself to trust the woman. He¡¯d been burned and beaten by nobles too many times before.

    So the boy stayed in the slums, while his brother moved on.

    As he grew, he began plying odd jobs, taking apprenticeships, and scraping together useful skills. For if there was one thing the streets had tought him, it was that he could only rely on himself. So he set out to make himself as capable as he could.

    And Koresh would need to be very capable indeed, for the Govan empire was on the horizon, making their way toward Ignus.¡±

    Nessa¡¯s face grew fearful.

    Kint grinned, continuing.

    ¡°When the Govani arrived, the city fell in an instant. The Nobility had already fled, taking their wealth and weaponry with them. So all that was left for the common folk, was blood and Govani chains.

    Koresh had clamps on his wrist and ankles before he knew it, and the life he¡¯d hoped to build was clouded by a future of hard labor.

    Seing he had a strong back and strong arms, valuable tools for a slave, the Govani put him to work in the fields.

    But, the Sixth had a strength they could not see, one built into him through years of struggle in the slums.

    It wasn¡¯t long before the young man escaped, breaking his chains to find refuge in the forest. But, the Govan Empire was vast, and a single slave could not hope to escape their lands.

    After a few weeks of running, Koresh was caught, his ankles weighed down by chains once again.

    For most slaves, death was the Govan punishment for escape. But Koresh Ignus had strong arms and a strong back, so he was put to work once again. This time in the mills, where sweat fell like rain, and a mans hands would be blistered and burned by the end of the day.

    Again, the Sixth fought back. This time rallying a small group to break free with him.

    But the Empire put a stop to that as well.

    Still, they would not kill him. For his arms were strong and his back was strong, and that had value in the Govan Empire.

    As punishment for his many escapes, they sent him deep into the Empire homelands, where slaves were not but cattle and the conditions harsh as mountain winters.

    The Govani whipped him and starved and beat him near to death. But still, he would not bend and Koresh Ignus escaped again. This time, leading a hundred men through heavy gates, out of captivity, and into the wild.

    But the Govan Empire was vast, and soon, the Sixth was caught again.

    This time, the Empire finally recognized the hidden strength of the Sixth Apostle. They saw how bright his spirit shone.

    It was too late to kill him now. His name had circulated among the slaves. Stories flew from camp to camp of Koresh Ignus and his unbreakable will.

    Even Emperor himself had heard Koresh¡¯s name and in his hubris, he decided to make an example of the unbreakable slave. Emperor Vire ordered the Sixth be sent to the deep mines of the Tordool Mountains.

    The mines were in the heart of the Empire, ten thousand miles from any border. There could be no hope of escape¡­ no hope of sunlight either.

    It was there that Koresh stayed for many years. Long enough for the people to forget his name. Long enough for the Emperor to believe he¡¯d won. That he¡¯d broken the unbreakable slave.

    Until, one night, a few days after Jocinder Doene¡¯s lie, all the slaves of the deep mines vanished. Dissappeared without a trace.

    For months, there was no sight or sign of them. A Thousand men, gone in an instant. Eventually, the Empire concluded that they¡¯d simply dug too deep, and died in a cave in.

    But they were proven wrong, when Koresh Ignus was sighted three months later, leading his men across the Govan border into the young Noveriat, with a thousand sturdy miners in toe.¡±

    Kint smiled, enjoying the look of awe on his daughters face.

    ¡°The Sixth¡¯s first deed was so great, that the Prophet made him an Apostle on the very spot.¡±

    ¡°Amazing¡­¡± Nessa whispered, eyes full of wonder.

    ¡°I know.¡± Kint whispered, getting goosebumps from his own tale.

    ¡°But¡­¡± The girl started, perplexed. ¡°Why don¡¯t we learn about the Sixth like the other Apostles? Is he different?¡±

    ¡°Smart Girl.¡± Kint smiled, ¡°The Sixth is different, for many reasons. But mostly because his many years of abuse left him unable to have children.¡±

    ¡°So he didn¡¯t have a family?¡± Nessa asked, saddened by the news.

    Kint nodded, solemn.

    He leaned in, as if to tell a secret.

    ¡°But, he did have¡­ a brotherhood.¡±

    His daughter''s eyes widened again.

    ¡°But, I¡¯ll tell you that story another time.¡± Kint smiled, standing from his seat on her bed.

    ¡°But, Papa.¡± Nessa pleaded.

    ¡°No no.¡±

    The Inspector raised a hand.

    ¡°I said only the general stuff. That¡¯s as far as I¡¯ll go tonight.¡±

    ¡°Come on¡­¡± She cried.

    Kint could feel the ringing in his ears coming on.

    ¡°Nessa¡­¡± He growled, opening the door. ¡°Let it go. We¡¯re done for the night.¡±

    He gripped the handle hard, feeling off balance for some reason.

    ¡°Papa, plea¨C¡±

    ¡°Nessa! Stop it.¡± He snapped, turning sharply. ¡°I said no.¡±

    He stared at her, anger boiling in his eyes.

    There was fear in his daughters face, and something else...

    Guilt.

    Kint took a deep breath, pushing the moment from his mind.

    ¡°Not tonight, sweetheart.¡± He sighed. ¡°We¡¯re done.¡±

    He met her eyes again. There was understanding there. She knew she¡¯d done wrong.

    ¡°Good night, Nessa.¡±

    He exited the room, closing the door behind him.

    A wave of exhaustion swept over the Inspector, forcing him to lean back against the wall. He put a hand to his chest. His heart was beating out of control.

    He felt sick, nauseous.

    He closed his eyes, taking a deep breaths.

    Blessedly, his heartbeat began to slow.

    He leaned forward, making sure he was back on level ground.

    Looking down at his feet, he frowned. There was a small pool of blood on the hardwood below. Kint cupped a hand above the crimson puddle, watching with concern as thick red droplets collected in his palm.

    He looked up to the ceiling in frustration.

    Why did she have to push him so far¡­ and for what?

    He shook himself. Not wanting to confront those questions.

    He quietly grabbed a rag from the kitchen, cleaning the red mess. Then went about cleaning the rest of the house before putting out the lights.

    His bedroom door creaked as he entered, dim lamplight revealing a barren space.

    There was a queen sized bed pushed into the corner, a dresser, and a mirror hung above it. The only other item of note in the room was a small square of colored glass standing upright on a table opposite Kint¡¯s bed.

    With practiced movements, Kint closed the door, sitting on the bed to face the shimmering glass.

    The Inspector reached out, pulling two candles from a drawer.

    He placed them on either side of the glass, lighting them both.

    Kint straightened up, staring into the last image he had of his Wife Carolin.

    A confusing mix of emotions stirred in his heart.

    The likeness was perfect, a true masterwork. He could see the sheen of her dark hair, and the freckles under her eyes. There was a sadness in her eyes, or maybe that was something only he could see.

    He sat for a while, admiring the look of her, waiting for those uncomfortable feelings to abate. The candles burned¡­

    He began to speak.

    ¡°I almost died today¡­¡± He started. ¡°Man had me by the throat before I realized¡­ when I did¡­I¨C¡±

    Kint trailed off again, looking down at his hands.

    ¡°Caught me off guard I guess¡­¡± He continued. ¡°I¡¯m not what I once was that¡¯s for sure¡­ God¡¯s help us if I was.¡±

    He glanced away again, unable to meet those disappointed eyes.

    The silence stretched like old leather.

    ¡°Anyway¡­¡±

    Kint cleared his throat.

    ¡°I missed you today¡­ especially with Nessa.¡± Kint smiled, shaking his head. ¡°Everytime I look at her, I get a better glimpse of you. She gives me these looks sometimes¡­ I can¡¯t tell the difference.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s got your stubbornness, too.¡± He grimaced. ¡°And a curiosity¡­ I don¡¯t know where she gets that from.¡± Kint shook his head. ¡°She keeps asking me questions¡­¡±

    He looked up at her.

    ¡°They teach the Prophet less and less.¡± He growled. ¡°The only lessons they want are the ones that suit their purposes.¡±

    Kint sighed, scratching his scruffy cheeks.

    ¡°Not sure what you would¡¯ve done¡­ Probably something different¡­ Maybe not¡­ Your words are more distant by the day...¡±

    Kint trailed off.

    ¡°I¡¯m alone now¡­ something dark is coming, and I don¡¯t know if I can face it¡­ Prophet help, I wish I had your guidance. Though I dread what you might say.¡±

    ¡°Anyway¡­¡±

    He gritted his teeth.

    ¡°We¡¯ll get through it.¡±

    ¡°I miss you¡­¡± He whispered.

    The old Inspector stood, putting out the candles, and laying them back in the drawer.

    Darkness sealed the room.

    Silence followed.

    Then stillness.

    Kint sat, looking down at the fingers of his calloused hands. His mind was blank, his body ragged.

    He needed rest¡­

    But, sleep was no solace for him.

    He beat back the weariness as long as he could.

    Eventually, the jaws of slumber took him under.

 Chapter 5 - A Haircut

    Snip.

    The sharp noise startled Kint. He swiveled, looking around for its source.

    Snip.

    Right by his ear this time. Kint snapped his head to the side.

    Nothing.

    "Who''s there?" He asked, voice drifting into darkness. Echoing through a vast space.

    "Shhhh."

    A female voice whispered.

    He spun again, swiveling on the axle of a leather backed chair.

    The voice had come from behind him. He wasn¡¯t quick enough to see.

    Kint was surrounded by darkness. A single light shone from a hidden source.

    A giggle rippled around him, echoing across invisible walls, encircling him. He recognized the voice.

    "Nessa?"

    The Inspector scoured the darkness, eyes searching for a hint of his daughter''s freckled face.

    Gentle hands gripped both sides of his head, directing him to face forward.

    "Stay still, Papa." She giggled, voice clearer now.

    She was behind him.

    "You need a haircut."

    Another Snip.

    He felt a tingle atop his right ear as falling hair drifted past.

    "Alright." Kint muttered, relaxing a bit.

    Dark locks fell around his shoulders, taking his anxieties with them.

    His hair was getting long.

    Snip.

    He remembered their fight before bed.

    How she¡¯d pushed him.

    Snip. Snip.

    How he¡¯d reacted¡­

    He felt bad about that.

    Snip. Snip¡­ Snip.

    But things would be alright now.

    Nessa had a way of smoothing things over.

    Snip.

    Even with how heated he¡¯d had gotten, Kint was confident his daughter would forgive him.

    She probably already had.

    Snip. Snip. Snip. Snip.

    "Hey!" Kint grumbled. "I''d like to keep at least some hair."

    Another giggle.

    "Hush. Papa."

    "hmph." He grunted. "What''s this new look you''re giving me, anyway?"

    "It''ll be good." She assured him. "You''ll see."

    He grumbled again, readjusting himself on the stiff leather.

    He wished he could see what she was doing.

    Two more snips.

    He''d had hair past his ears for at least as long as he''d been in District 13.

    Snip snip snip.

    He¡¯d never cared about how he looked, but Nessa was doing a lot of cutting¡­ Kint was starting to worry. His head was feeling¡­ lighter.

    Snip snip... snip...

    Stab!

    An intense pain lanced through the side of his head.

    "God''s above, Nessa!" He screamed. "Stop that!"

    The stabbing pain continued. Expanding. Moving deeper and deeper. It grinded around his head, slowly making its way in a circle.

    "Stop it, Nessa!" He yelled, reaching his hands up to stop her.

    But he couldn''t.

    When he tried to raise his hands, he found them strapped to the arms of the chair.

    The slicing and sawing continued, making its way around his skull.

    He felt blood streaming from open wounds he could not see.

    "Gods! Please!"

    There was no response, only the pinching, slicing, and sawing across his skull.

    "Nessa! Please! I''m begging you! Please stop this madness."

    He raged against his hidden bonds. Struggling desperately.

    Blood poured across his eyes as the persistent blade made its way to his forehead.

    His vision went red.

    It was on the verge of going black.

    The pain was so intense.

    He was going to pass out.

    Then it stopped.

    The sawing stopped, the pain stopped.

    He felt a twist across the crown of his head. Then a peeling sound hit his ears.

    Then... Finally¡­ blessedly¡­ he passed out.

    <hr>

    "Papa?"

    He heard a muffled voice through the darkness.

    "Papa...?"

    Again the sweet voice came.

    Kint blinked twice, eyes fluttering open.

    His vision was blurry, his mind struggled to bring the world to focus.

    The pain was gone.

    Thank the Prophet.

    "Papa, are you okay?"

    His daughter''s voice came again.

    He turned, feeling his head and hands had been freed.

    He looked up from his chair... and there she was.

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    The sweet freckled face of his daughter.

    She was holding a pair of scissors in one hand, her face full of concern.

    "Are you alright, Papa?" She asked, cocking her head, examining him. "You were screaming and yelling. And then you passed out. I didn''t know what to do."

    Kint looked in her eyes. There was a redness, a history of tears. She had been truly concerned for him.

    His gaze drifted to the scissors in her hand. They were clean. No blood, no skin, no evidence of the torturous acts he''d experienced.

    He looked again at his daughter, confused about what he''d just experienced, but guilty at the same time for thinking her capable of such horrors.

    "I--" He began, gathering his wits. "I''m okay... I think."

    His voice still shaking with the memory of pain.

    He raised a hand to his head but Nessa stopped him, gently pushing the appendage back to the chair''s arm.

    "Not yet, Papa." She soothed.

    He looked at her, confused.

    She smiled, such earnest innocence was in her eyes.

    He put his worries aside.

    The girl nodded, skipping back behind him.

    "Be careful with those Scissors, Sweetheart." Kint admonished. "They can be dangerous."

    The Inspector shuddered, as he felt the phantom pain creep back around his head.

    "Oh don''t worry, Papa."

    The voice came from behind his head.

    "I''m not going to be using those anymore."

    Kint''s brow furrowed. There was something different about Nessa''s voice. It was the same pitch... but there was a confidence to it.

    The cadence was off.

    "Incredible."

    Her voice came again.

    "So many levers... At such a young age."

    Again the voice was so different. It had an upper class air to it. A refined quality.

    "Nessa... Wha--" Kint shuddered.

    His mouth stopped.

    His whole body was frozen.

    "That''s enough questions."

    The childish voice that was not his daughters echoed through the dark room.

    Kint struggled desperately to move.

    He tried to scream. To fight. But, nothing would move.

    All he could manage was the twitch of finger as a drop of blood spilled across his temple from his open skull.

    "I wouldn''t fight too hard if I were you."

    The voice warned.

    "The mesh across your mind is quite extensive. If you resist too much, this late in the game, you''re as likely to make yourself a dullard as anything."

    Rage coursed through Kint''s veins as this thing spoke in his daughter''s voice. His teeth would be grinding like a mill if he weren''t paralyzed.

    "We''ll work on that." The girl quipped. "Now. I''m going to ask you some questions, Kint. And I want truthful answers. Not like the ones you told in your stories." She admonished. "I want the whole truth. The Truth as you see it."

    His head shuddered again, muscles twitching below his left eye.

    He felt a drop of blood fall from his lip as it trickled from his nose.

    He needed to turn his head, needed to see what was tormenting him with Nessa''s voice.

    "Let''s start with an easy one." The girl began. "Do you believe in the Prophet?"

    Kint did not answer. He would not answer, even if he could speak. He would not bow to this thing.

    He felt a vibrating pulse ripple through his mind, his vision blurred.

    "I believe that he existed."

    The words spilled forth. He could not stop them.

    "And the Brotherhood? What about them?" The child asked.

    Another vibration. Kint opened his mouth. Only a hollow breath came out.

    He would fight it. This thing could not control him.

    Several more vibrations rocked his skull, from multiple places across his brain.

    "It may have existed¡­ once." Kint began, unable to keep the words in. "But not for long. The Apostle Families probably destroyed it in the Second Age."

    "Not bad, Papa."

    Tremors went through Kint''s arms as his anger boiled higher.

    "How about the Gods." The girl continued, uncaring. "Do you believe in them?"

    "Yes." Kint admitted, this time without the mind bending vibrations.

    "And what about The Shattered?"

    "I don¡¯t know¡­" The inspector grumbled. ¡°I''m starting to.¡±

    "I knew I liked you, Papa." The child smiled.

    Kint''s nostrils flared as heat blew through them. He could not stand how this thing said that word. ''Papa''. It was driving him mad.

    "Let''s go a little deeper, shall we." The thing said, "This morning, when your partner went in to do the cleansing, you did not. Why?"

    Had this thing been following him?

    Another vibration rippled through him when Kint did not reply.

    He opened his mouth.

    "I--I don''t like the smell." He grunted.

    "Cheeky... And true I''m sure" The girl said, he could hear the grin in her voice. "But, I want a real answer."

    The Spector felt vibrations across the front of his head.

    He saw blood on the floor of a small Mage Grown Government house. A body was there. Dark hair, freckled cheeks... A knife protruding from her chest.

    His mouth opened of its own accord.

    "B-Bad memories." He uttered.

    Kint was determined to divulge as little as he could. He wasn¡¯t sure why it mattered. But he needed to fight.

    "Interesting..." The girl pondered.

    Kint could hear small footsteps pacing around behind his head. He shifted his eyes to the point of pain, willing them to see farther into the periphery.

    "What about this afternoon?" The childish voice inquired. "You seemed different at the Syfeeli house. More focused... Why is that?"

    How closely was this thing watching him?

    More vibrations.

    "I-- I saw that this case could be a problem for my family. So I wanted it solved quickly."

    "Did you enjoy it?"

    Kint froze.

    "I-- I don''t understand." He replied, not needing to be forced.

    "Did you enjoy it?" The thing repeated. "Solving the murder. Commanding the room. Using your powers for the first time in so long."

    Another ripple in his mind.

    "I--" He paused.

    For some reason he felt he needed to fight these words especially hard.

    More ripples, more vibrations. Vibrations to the point of pain.

    His vision blurred.

    "Yesss..." He spat.

    The words finally jarring loose. He was breathing heavily, like he''d just sprinted a few hundred yards.

    "tsk, tsk, tsk." The Girl clicked. "You are a tough one Mr. Kint. Again, let''s try not to fight too hard. You still have to care for this little girl when you wake."

    Kint''s breathing slowed.

    He could feel the blood coming down in a steady flow from his nose and eyes. But at least he had a bit more information now.

    Based on the girls words, he could confirm that this was some sort of dream... So maybe it wouldn''t matter how much he went through in here?

    No... He felt that wasn''t right.

    This being''s words rung true. If he pushed too hard against it, he could feel that his mind would break.

    "It''s okay though... just a few more questions, and i''ll have what I need." Soothed the girl.

    Kint heard the footsteps come closer from behind. He felt a hot breath brush past his ear as she whispered. "Did you love your wife, Inspector Kint?"

    Vibrations, pain, he felt nauseous.

    "I don''t know..." He admitted.

    The words left him like a heavy sigh. Deflating him.

    "Do you love your daughter?"

    "Yes." Kint snapped, jumping for the answer.

    The being paused in its pacing.

    "How can you be sure?¡± It questioned. ¡°Have you ever felt love before? Do you know what love is? Do you even have the capacity for it?"

    "H-I--" Noises escaped his throat, distressed gasps.

    There were no vibrations, no ripples.

    The demon''s words had hit him like a ton of bricks. His mind reeled as it saw through his deepest barriers.

    "Tell me, Papa..." The thing continued. "What is it that you fear most?"

    Footsteps drifted out from behind him, circling to the front.

    The inspector''s eyes followed the girls diminutive form as it made its way to face him.

    It really was the spitting image of his daughter.

    That dark blue dress, freckled cheeks and nose, dark hair.

    The only thing that marked her out as something foreign was that sadistic grin, and a pair of gleaming, crimson eyes.

    It stood there for a moment, examining his exhausted form, hands behind her back in casual confidence.

    It sighed.

    "You''re not ready yet... I think."

    That smile turned down to a pitying frown.

    "Maybe you never will be." She shook her head, pulling her hand from behind her back to reveal a set of bloody scissors. "But, apparently we need you¡­ So, I¡¯ll do my best."

    The thing that looked like his daughter approached him, laying her free hand on his shoulder and looking him in the eyes.

    "I''m going to try and help you, Kint." She intoned. "These next few days will test you in ways you''re not ready for... But hopefully..."

    It paused, shaking its head.

    "Hopefully, when the time comes you''ll be ready to do what must be done."

    The girl lifted the scissors in front of his eyes, glancing at them in consternation. "You''ll be ready to set her free."

    She looked back at him with a white hot intensity that cleared his mind with its power.

    The dark world of the dream went silent as she pulled her hand back.

    "Set her free, Kint." She whispered.

    The hand came down, stabbing the scissors into Kint''s chest with a thud.

    He gasped.

    Shooting up in bed.

    His breath game in heaving gulps.

    He put his hand to his chest... There was nothing there. No Scissors. No wound.

    His breathing slowed. Kint looked to his bedside window where the morning sunlight shone.

    "Papa...?"

    A child''s voice spoke.

    Kint''s eyes shot towards his door with a fierce intensity, he reached for his knife, ready to attack.

    But it was only her.

    Only his beautiful daughter, standing in the doorway, cloaked in youthful innocence.

    He took a deep breath, letting it out in a heavy sigh.

    "Papa... Are you okay?" She asked, triggering a shadow of pain across his scalp.

    "I--" He hesitated, still feeling that phantom ache.

    "Yes, Sweetheart. I think so."

 Interlude 1 - Higher Eyes

    Olum¡¯s legs dangled over the edge of a viewing platform high in the Stalwart Tree.

    He took in a breath, enjoying the stillness of the early morning.

    Olum smiled, staring down at the Shrouded streets of Kaden City. It was impossible to see from this height, but things were happening down there that would shake the age.

    He heard footsteps on the steel walkway behind him.

    ¡°Did it take?¡± Olum asked.

    ¡°I¡¯d say so.¡± His colleague replied, ¡°Though it¡¯s hard to tell with these things.¡±

    He turned to look at the handsome man, raising a questioning eyebrow.

    ¡°He¡¯s on his way.¡± The man assured, moving to lean against the platform''s railing.

    Olum nodded, looking out to the bright sky.

    ¡°We don¡¯t really need him, though. Do we?¡±

    ¡°We need him.¡± Olum stated, ¡°He¡¯s important.¡±

    ¡°Right.¡± The man nodded, ¡°But he¡¯s not that important.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s important.¡± Olum repeated.

    ¡°Right, Right¡­¡± The handsome man rolled his eyes. ¡°Everyone¡¯s important. They all have their part to play.¡±

    Olum smiled at the quote.

    He let the silence linger, enjoying the gentle morning breeze on his face.

    He sighed, looked down, calculating the distance.

    ¡°What are you sighing about?¡±

    ¡°Infinity.¡± Olum replied, staring out at the skyline.

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°I was thinking about Infinity.¡± The seated man repeated.

    His companion rolled his roll of his eyes again.

    ¡°Breaking new ground I see.¡± He quipped. ¡°You know, I¡¯m surprised you can see anything at all, with your head so far up the ass end of the universe.¡±

    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

    Olum did not react, still enjoying the tender breeze.

    ¡°Well¡­¡± The handsome man sighed. ¡°Go on then. What is it about infinity that has you so vexed?¡±

    ¡°Which¡­¡± Olum replied.

    ¡°Huh¡±

    ¡°The question is, which Infinity. Not ¡®what¡¯.¡±

    The standing man¡¯s eye twitched, lips turning down to a frown.

    ¡°I was thinking about the infinity that takes place between when one slips from this platform and when they hit they ground.¡±

    ¡°Thinking of falling, are we?¡± His companion asked. ¡°Is that fear in your ancient heart?¡±

    Olum put a finger to his ching, digesting the question and all its implications.

    ¡°Maybe¡­¡± He pondered, ¡°for a moment¡­ But then bliss I think¡­ All the way to the black.¡±

    The standing man stared at his partner''s unflinching profile.

    ¡°You know Old Man, every time I think I¡¯ve got a hold on how you think, you say something so esoteric that I have trouble holding a thought of my own.¡±

    That inkling of a smile twinged at Olum¡¯s lips.

    He glanced at his companion.

    He raised an eyebrow.

    ¡°Do you really want to know how I think?¡±

    The handsome man gave him a skeptical look.

    ¡°Surprise me.¡± He muttered.

    Olum shifted his gaze back to the skyline, eyes a thousand miles away.

    His voice took on a lecturing cadence.

    ¡°If you really want to know what a man is thinking, or what he¡¯s going to do.¡±

    His colleague let out an annoyed sigh, pushing back from the railing.

    ¡°You must only know two things about him." Olum continued. ¡°What he really wants to do, and what he thinks others want him to want to do. If you know those two things, you can pretty well determine what they will do.¡±

    ¡°Really.¡± Responded the handsome man.

    He sounded farther away than before.

    ¡°If you know so much, old man,¡± The man questioned. ¡°Then what am I going to do, right now?¡±

    A smile bloomed on Olum''s face.

    He looked down, watching his impatient friend as his body disappeared into a cloud below.

    ¡°What I least expect.¡±

    The old man sat a while longer, letting the air settle from the sudden commotion. Trying to recapture the stillness of earlier. But he could not. It was gone.

    He sighed, waiting for that familiar feeling to come on. The feeling of responsibility bordering on dread that came from trying to bind the boundless, to end the endless. But it did not come¡­ A choice had been made¡­ A new beginning had begun.

    He couldn¡¯t help but feel excited, even after all these years.

    Maybe this would be the last.

    He grabbed the guardrail, pulling himself up.

    Stepping back to give himself space, he faced the rising sun.

    Olum pulled a black stud earring from his pocket, putting it in.

    His eyes closed, focused.

    A shimmering haze alighted on the platform in front of him, stretching from the steel floor to a foot above the Old man¡¯s head. A bead of sweat dripped from his brow as a slice of black unreality split the air. A hint of fear lanced through his body as he leaned toward the rift, then a playful smile sprouted, as his momentum carried him through, into the black.

 Chapter 6 - Summoned

    Kint stared into the endless gray of the Shroud, waiting for Nessa to get ready for school.

    His fingers caressed the hilt of his stalwart blade.

    He squinted, spotting two figures approaching.

    ¡°That¡¯s far enough.¡± He called, meeting them outside. ¡°State your business.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re here to corrupt your daughter.¡± Elsha smiled, laying a hand on the shoulder of her niece Kaycee.

    ¡°Good Morning, Inspector Kint.¡± Kaycee greeted, executing a perfect curtsey.

    ¡°Kaycee.¡± Kint replied.

    The door opened behind him, Nessa stepping out.

    ¡°Good morning, Lady Elsha.¡± She greeted, giving a courtesy of her own.

    His daughter moved to join Kaycee on the sidewalk.

    ¡°Hold on a moment.¡± Kint admonished. ¡°Do you have everything you need?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Papa.¡± She replied, annoyed. ¡°Do you have everything you need?¡±

    Kint reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a fresh pear, holding it out to show her.

    ¡°And I even packed a spare.¡± He grinned.

    Nessa nodded in approval, mood shifting from mothering to childlike as she greeted her friend. The two began whispering immediately, entering their own world as they walked to school.

    ¡°Excuse me.¡± Elsha cut in. ¡°I thought we were all walking together this morning?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not a child anymore, Auntie.¡± Kaycee huffed.

    Nessa kicked Kaycee in the ankle.

    Kaycee gave her a hurt expression, but got the message.

    ¡°Apologies Aunt Elsha, that was rude of me.¡± She said, contrite. ¡°Thank you for the offer, but we¡¯d appreciate the time to ourselves this morning.¡±

    She finished with a small bow and a self satisfied grin.

    Nessa looked upon her with approval.

    After an appropriate amount of time, Kaycee lifted her head, turning on a heel to continue their walk.

    Elsha smiled, choosing not to pursue the argument.

    Kint couldn¡¯t help a grin of his own. When Kayce had begun her Turnabout year in the District, he had truly thought Nessa would be corrupted by her. But things had swung the opposite way.

    ¡°Nessa¡¯s a good influence.¡± Elsha commented, mirroring his thoughts. ¡°I can¡¯t understand how a child so sweet came from a grump like you.¡±

    ¡°Agreed¡­¡± Kint grimaced.

    An image of his daughter with red eyes infecting his thoughts.

    ¡°She¡¯s a good one.¡± He stated, reassuring himself.

    ¡°I do wish Nessa would exert a little more influence when it comes to fashion.¡±

    Elsha pointed to her niece as the two girls shrank toward the horizon.

    ¡°A black dress¡­ in this heat?¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s trying to be like you.¡± Kint pointed out.

    ¡°Well I hope she fails...¡± Elsha muttered.

    ¡°She¡¯s a good kid, Elsha.¡± Kint noted. ¡°And you¡¯re not so bad a role model as you think.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s not as strong as she lets on.¡± Elsha grimaced. ¡°I¡¯m glad she has Nessa as a friend.¡±

    They watched in silence as the children turned, moving out of sight.

    Kint cleared his throat.

    ¡°Let¡¯s get going.¡± He grunted. ¡°I have a feeling we¡¯re in for another busy day.¡±

    ¡ª-------------------------------------------

    Kelseen Square was already bustling when the Inspectors arrived.

    Shop owners, restaurateurs, and hawkers were busy setting up for the lunch rush.

    But, the Mercantile Exchange had the greatest crowd.

    Dozens upon dozens of well appointed men and women shouted at podiums in front of the tall stone building. Men in uniforms stood behind those podiums, hundreds of information pipes behind them spitting out pricing and yield information for all swords of commodities. Above it all, a statue of Ash¡¯teel Qinder, the Prophet¡¯s Quartermaster, looked down upon the proceedings, observing their fairness with his holy eyes.

    Kint grimaced as the Network pipes rattled and shook from behind the statue, extending from the building like a stiff head of hair.

    Beauty sacrificed for the sake of efficiency.

    More miracles of progress.

    Kint moved through the crowd, Elsha acting as a plow to clear the way. They crested the HQ stairs, moving to open the double doors.

    ¡°Citizens! Citizens!¡±

    The Inspectors paused, hearing an unfamiliar voice carrying across the space.

    Kint turned, confused.

    ¡°Kadenites.¡± The voice called again.

    The aged Inspector squinted, spotting the speaker below.

    It was an old man standing atop a wooden box. A far cry from the young man who was their usual crier.

    The priest was hunched over, weathered by time and effort.

    His words cut through the crowd like a blade. His presence, full of wisdom and grace. When he spoke, the people listened.

    A group of twenty had shown up this time. Laborers and factory workers mostly. Their faces lined with stress and caked in dirt, eyes tired.

    ¡°Hmm.¡± Kint grumbled, noticing small missives gripped in the hands of several men.

    Elsha patted him on the shoulder, handing him a rumpled page.

    ¡°I snagged one on the way in.¡± She explained.

    Kint frowned.

    She¡¯d probably pick-pocketed a poor kadenite.

    He unfurled the paper, reading the message.

    ¡°I¡¯m sensing a pattern here.¡± He chuckled.

    Elsha nodded in agreement.

    The two shifted their focus, the old man beginning his work.

    He raised an ebony hand, drawing the crowd to silence.

    If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    The hand was scarred and calloused like a knotted tree. Seasoned through a lifetime of labor.

    ¡°Kadenites¡­¡± He started, stillness falling over the crowd. ¡°I come to you from afar, bearing a message from the darkest parts of The Noveriet. Beneath the earth where light fears to go.¡± He paused, meeting the eyes of his parishioners. ¡°A message from the crystal mines.¡±

    There was a ripple through the crowd, people leaned in. The mines were as good as myth in Kaden City. Used as a crutch for the hardest of times. Whenever things were bleak in the low ranking districts, ¡®At least it¡¯s not the mines.¡¯ was a Kadenites comfort.

    The Crier observed the crowd''s reaction, an enigmatic grin growing on his face.

    ¡°Yes, I worked the mines.¡± The old man started, ¡°Twenty years I toiled in darkness, spilling sweat in the earth to bring Crystals from its maw. Crystals, I was told, that would power the wonders of Kaden City.¡±

    The old man swept his arms out to encompass the cityscape. The listeners followed his gaze, turning toward the Stalwart Tree. Its canopy barely visible through the Shroud.

    ¡°Well¡­ maybe we¡¯ll get a better view tomorrow.¡± The priest chuckled.

    There were a few grunts and huffs of dark laughter.

    ¡°For twenty years I worked in those mines, and I paid a great tax for my efforts.¡±

    The man swept his dark eyes through the crowd.

    ¡°I see many of you have paid the tax as well¡­¡± He said, somber.

    ¡°I¡¯m not talking about the Apostles Tithe. I speak of the physical tax, the laborers tax.¡±

    Many of the listeners nodded, understanding.

    ¡°For in my twenty years, the highest price I ever paid to the Apostles was not in pennies, but in pain. The price I paid was in my back, my knees, and my aching hands.¡±

    He pointed at each body part as he spoke the words.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure many of you have suffered similar ailments. Unable to clench your daughters hand, unable to bend down to pick her up.¡±

    He shook his head.

    ¡°Memories lost, moments lost¡­ Moments that seem so small, but make a lifetime of difference.¡±

    There was a disgruntled mutter through the audience.

    ¡°They do not know the price we pay.¡±

    The priest pointed again to the Shrouded Stalwart Tree.

    ¡°But how could they? How could the Apostles know our struggle?¡± He asked. ¡°The Laborers tax is not written in the laws of The Herundus, it is not counted in the census, and they could hardly see it from their lofty perch.¡±

    A few more dark chuckles.

    He paused, pointing to the ground before him.

    ¡°It can only be seen here, on the ground.¡±

    He raised his gnarled hand to the sky once more.

    ¡°The Prophet¡¯s Second Tenet¡­ ¡®Peace is found in calloused hands.¡¯... I have found those words to be true.¡± The Crier admitted, solemn. ¡°But, the callouses¡­ they have to have meaning¡­ they have to have purpose¡­ no?¡±

    There were some mutters of ascent from the crowd.

    ¡°I toiled for twenty years in darkness with the belief that my callouses would find meaning in this great city. In Districts like this one..¡± He looked around, searching the square. ¡°But, to tell it true, now that I stand in your midst¡­ I see no purpose here¡­¡±

    He shook his head.

    ¡°All I see is tired brothers and sisters¡­ taxed to the bone, and weary. With only a dim view of what their labors might be making.¡±

    He pointed again to the distant tree.

    The crowd was quiet.

    A sadness settled over them.

    The Crier let the sadness rest, sealing the point.

    ¡°But I caution, do not blame the Lord.¡±

    That calloused hand rose in a gesture of pause.

    ¡°For his works¨C his genius. They are something to take pride in¡­¡±

    The old man gave a warm smile.

    ¡°No, it is not the job of our great Lord to hear our complaints.¡± The Crier shook his head. ¡°But it is the Job of Mayor Fezelin.¡±

    He pointed a gnarled finger at District HQ.

    ¡°A man elected by the people to bring their concerns to the Lord. Where else could the blame possibly lie.¡±

    There was a muttering from the crowd.

    ¡°So tell him of your struggles. Tell him of the price you pay. Make your voices heard, so that your Lord might know your pain.¡±

    More nods from the Kadenites.

    ¡°For even in my short time here, there is one thing I can clearly tell¡­ Your Lord does not know the lives you lead, for he would not condone it if he did.¡±

    A silence followed the man¡¯s words.

    Eventually, he broke it by stepping off the box, brushing dust from his robes.

    The crowd dispersed, laborers melting back into the bustling square.

    ¡°Well...¡± Elsha started, ¡°Looks like another bad day for Fezzy.¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡± Kint muttered, deep in thought.

    ¡°For a moment there I thought we might actually be able to arrest this one.¡± She quipped. ¡°But, he rode the line quite well.¡±

    The Inspectors turned, making their way into the marbled building.

    ¡°This sermon had a bit more substance compared to yesterdays.¡± Elsha noted, following close as they moved upstairs.

    Kint nodded.

    ¡°I¡¯d bet half the audience were Creepers, though.¡± She joked.

    ¡°I¡¯m not so sure.¡± He replied.

    ¡°You think Lord Crecius isn¡¯t monitoring this situation?¡± She asked, incredulous.

    ¡°No, he probably is.¡± Kint agreed, ¡°The Kadenites certainly are.¡±

    Elsha shrugged, ceding the point.

    They opened the doors to the Law Enforcement Offices and were greeted by shouts from across the room.

    ¡°God¡¯s blast it all! Where are those bloody idiots! They were supposed to be here 20 minutes ago!¡± The Mayor Screamed.

    His reed thin assistant stammered, struggling to respond.

    A look of relief overtook him as he saw Kint and Elsha.

    He pointed frantically, relaying their arrival to the mayor.

    ¡°Well what are you waiting for you bloody dunce! Send them in!¡±

    The waifish young man scurried down the hall toward the two inspectors. He stopped in front of them, stuttering ¡°Th¨CThe Mayor requests¨C¡±

    ¡°We heard.¡± Elsha said, moving past.

    ¡°Thanks.¡± Kint muttered, apologetic.

    <hr>

    ¡°What took you so long.¡± The mayor huffed as they moved to sit. ¡°You were supposed to be here a half an hour ago.¡±

    ¡°Apologies, Mayor Fezelin.¡± Elsha responded. ¡°We were working on a lead for the Sentinel case.¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­¡± He perked up a bit. ¡°and what leads have you been working on exactly?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s the Church of the Prophet.¡± Kint answered.

    The Mayor let out a breath, face paling from the angry red of before.

    He dabbed a handkerchief to his brow.

    ¡°And your evidence¡­?¡± He asked.

    Kint tossed the Sentinels message to the mayor.

    He grabbed it in his stubby hands, opening it.

    There were two images on the paper, side by side. The first was of a group of workers on a factory line wearing rags for clothing. Their hands were mangled, blood covering the toys they were building. Next was an image of Lord Crecius as a fat child playing with the bloodied toys, a mountain of broken trinkets behind him. ¡®No Peace.¡¯ Was written below the two images. Obviously in reference to the second Tenet.

    The Mayor¡¯s frown deepened as he scanned the paper.

    ¡°There was a new Crier outside this morning. One suited to deliver a very specific message.¡± Kint stated. ¡°That their work is without purpose if Kadenites do not prosper from it.¡±

    The Mayor frowned.

    ¡°That¡¯s two days in a row now¡­ so they have to be getting the message beforehand to plan these sermons.¡± The Mayor murmured.

    He sighed, shaking his head.

    "It changes nothing." He grimaced. "The source is what we need..¡±

    ¡°But, if the source is the Church, what can we do?¡± Kint asked.

    ¡°It¡¯s never just the Church, Inspector.¡± Fezelin grumbled, giving him a condescending look. ¡°The Church hasn¡¯t been an independent faction since the Second Age.¡±

    The man admonished.

    ¡°If this is being run through the Church, then most likely some Lord is trying to screw with Crecius, or maybe even the bloody family.¡±

    The Mayor dabbed his face.

    ¡°In any case, we need to find out how they¡¯re getting their messages into the district. Lord Crecius can put a stop to it from there. Hopefully before the Kadenites tear me to pieces.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re getting close.¡± Elsha poked. ¡°Today¡¯s sermon was far more pointed¡­ in your direction.¡±

    ¡°Of course it was!¡± He sighed, ¡°The Church can¡¯t go after the Lord directly, now can they?¡±

    Fezelin¡¯s lip twitched. He took in a deep breath to calm himself, putting stress on his buttons.

    ¡°Yes¡­ well¡­ The Sentinel is no longer of any concern to you.¡± He diverted, reaching down into his desk.

    There was a click, as a lock was opened. Coming back up, the man pulled out a sealed massage unlike any Kint had seen before.

    The tube was black, with an intricate pyramidal structure on each side, and the owl and quill of House Vorva in its center.

    ¡°A message came for you early this morning.¡± The large man said. ¡°I suggest you open it.¡±

    Elsha sat back in her chair, shocked, refusing to touch the ornate vessel.

    Eventually, she gritted her teeth, reaching forward to grab the tube with gentle fingers.

    She took a breath, closing her eyes in concentration. There was a hiss of steam, then a click, as the tube popped open. She reached gingerly inside, pulling out the message.

    Kint watched in anxious silence.

    ¡°We¡¯ve been summoned to the Ignatium¡­¡± She whispered. ¡°We are to call on Lord Crecius¡­ under The Black Seal.¡±

    Kint¡¯s eyes widened.

    ¡°What?¡± The mayor chided, ¡°No clever remarks?¡±

    He met both of their eyes.

    ¡°I¡¯m glad you¡¯re treating this with the gravity it deserves, because you¡¯re not the only ones on the hook here.¡±

    ¡°They asked for us?¡± Kint said, incredulous.

    He reached out, examining the scroll himself.

    ¡°By name.¡± Fezelin stated, face severe. ¡°Don¡¯t ask me why because I haven¡¯t the slightest.¡±

    Kint looked at Elsha. Her face was clouded with concern.

    ¡°What I do know,¡± The Mayor continued. ¡°Is that you and your partner will be representing me in the Ignatium. So please... don¡¯t fuck it up.¡±

    There was a long pause as the words settled.

    Both Inspectors were lost in thought, imagining what a Black Sealed Mission might entail.

    ¡°Inspectors, the first part of not fucking up¡­ is arriving on time¡­¡± The Mayor cooed. ¡°So please¡­ get off your asses and move!¡±

 Chapter 7 - Into The Ignatium

    Kint was in a daze as he exited HQ.

    The two Inspectors made their way to the Root System, Elsha bumping past Kadenites, ignorant to their complaints.

    They descended a flight of stone stairs into a tunnel, exiting out to a large waiting platform. The room was an unadorned gray, blending into a rich brown wood. The tunnels of the Root system were carved from the roots of the Stalwart Tree itself. A perfect metaphor for the kind of progress that made Kint uncomfortable.

    He glanced at his partner and frowned. There was no solace in her anxious eyes.

    A low vibrating hum rippled through the platform as a windowless white cylinder glided quietly in front of the waiting citizens. Glass doors slid back with a hiss, allowing them to enter the sparsely peopled Tube.

    The Inspectors wandered to the back, sitting next to each other in a field of open seats.

    Their backs pressed into chairs as the vessel accelerated.

    Kint glanced at partner.

    She was barely blinking. Eyes staring to the front of the carriage.

    It was two hours to The Core.

    Two hours in limbo with only worries to warm them.

    He gritted his teeth.

    How had this happened?

    He¡¯d spent years working diligently to be as unremarkable as possible.

    But the honor of a lifetime had arrived at his door anyway¡­

    Why?

    Kint glanced at Elsha.

    She seemed to share his sentiments, chewing her lip in consternation.

    His partner had her own reasons to stay low. No Blessed of Kaden City stock would voluntarily work as a District Inspector unless they were running from something.

    Kint had never asked what that something was, but based on her expression, this mission would likely bring them closer to it.

    The secrets they kept from each other made the long Tube ride doubly uncomfortable. Neither could soothe the others'' worries without acknowledging their existence. So they sat in silence drowning in private pools of dread.

    It was over an hour before their cursed silence was finally broken, a dozen raucous patrons entered the Carriage.

    They¡¯d reached the Shade. The Districts closest to the Stalwart Tree, basking in the forever night of its canopy.

    Districts in the Shade were bastions of culture. Trading in arts, music, and revelry, while promoting intellectual and Scholarly pursuits as well.

    The Shade Districts were the only places in the Noveriat where Kadenites, Blessed, and clergymen came together in productive harmony.

    Prosperity was inevitable.

    The room began to fill. The mood in the cabin shifting with the new patrons.

    None dared go near the two inspectors however, even as the room grew crowded. The aura of anxiety kept them at bay.

    A group of Church Scholars got the closest, sitting four rows in front of them.

    Kint frowned, noticing their gold and jewelry.

    Being a priest in the high ranking Districts was mostly about politics and power. Spreading the good word was a distant third.

    The group kept to themselves, however, passionately discussing interpretations of the 5th Tenet, and how far the definition of ¡®sin¡¯ might stretch.

    Maybe these ones weren¡¯t so bad¡­

    The Tube stopped again.

    A group of four young men, in the gold and blue military outfits of House Korth stepped on, several silken pleasure maidens in toe.

    ¡°Puffs.¡± Elsha snorted beside him.

    Kint looked closer at the men, seeing their uniforms were accented with lace at the cuffs and neck.

    In house Korth, they would be called ¡®Puffs¡¯, Blessed men who¡¯d forgone the traditional military lifestyle of the house to a more comfortable life of revelry.

    They sat two rows ahead, laughing and joking. But they made no trouble.

    At the third stop in the Shade, three men stumbled in. They wore bright colors of no particular house, clothes torn in ways that could be fashion.

    Kint grimaced as the three sat in the aisle next to Elsha.

    They spoke in brash tones, drawing irritated looks from the Priests ahead. Even the Puff¡¯s seemed put off.

    The Tube accelerated.

    Kint kept an eye on the new patrons.

    They were snickering, casting leering glances at his distracted partner.

    ¡°Um excuse me, Miss.¡±

    The closest man spoke across the aisle.

    ¡°Excuse me¡­ Inspector.¡± He repeated.

    Elsha stared to the front of the Tube, unresponsive.

    The young man frowned. He wasn¡¯t used to being ignored.

    His friends laughed at his failure.

    ¡°I thought Inspectors were supposed to be observant.¡± The young man sneered.

    His friends snickered again, egging him on.

    ¡°One of your betters is speaking to you, Inspector.¡±

    The young man poked Elsha in the shoulder.

    ¡°Pay attention.¡± He growled.

    Elsha blinked, returning to herself.

    She turned at a glacial pace, facing the young man with startled eyes.

    ¡°Well she¡¯s not deaf.¡± The Blessed joked. ¡°Although she might be daft.¡±

    Another chorus of cruel laughter.

    Elsha smiled, an innocent smile. As if she didn¡¯t recognize she was the but of the joke.

    ¡°I¡¯m terribly sorry, my lord.¡± She started, earnest. ¡°I did not mean to offend. I sometimes lose myself in flights of fancy.¡±

    Kint frowned, confused.

    She was acting like some sort of vapid courtier. Nothing like what he was used to.

    ¡°I just¨C Men of such class as yourself so rarely approach me.¡± She complimented. ¡°I never imagined you could be talking to me¡­¡±

    She was blushing¡­

    Kint raised an eyebrow.

    ¡°I¡­I¡­¡± The young man stammered, finally noticing how beautiful she really was.

    ¡°My lord.¡± She cut in, leaning forward. ¡°Was there something you wished to ask of me?¡±

    The man¡¯s mouth dropped. He pushed a hand through his dark hair, composing himself.

    ¡°Yes, well. I¨C I wanted to introduce myself.¡± He said, clearing his throat. ¡°I¡¯m Carl Inkhold Clauson. Ascending scion of the Inkhold family.¡±

    He puffed out his chest when giving his family name.

    Elsha¡¯s mouth opened in interest, spurring the man on.

    ¡°And¡­ and I was wondering if I might¡­ If you would permit me the pleasure of calling on you.¡±

    ¡°Oh, my lord.¡± She gave a seductive smile. ¡°The pleasure would be mine, certainly.¡±

    It was the young man¡¯s turn to blush.

    ¡°But my lord¡­¡± She demurred. ¡°A man of your station should not be seen calling on one such as I. I should be courting you.¡±

    ¡°I¨C...¡± The young man trailed off. He¡¯d obviously never gotten this far before without paying.

    One of his friends jostled him from behind, spurring him on.

    ¡°But of course, Lady Inspector.¡± He collected himself. ¡°I would be happy to¡­ service you¨C sorry. Be of service, any time you call.¡±

    ¡°My lord!¡± She exclaimed, blushing again.

    The boy grinned, proud of his wordplay.

    ¡°Lady Inspector, what is your name?¡± He inquired. ¡°So that I might tell my servants to expect you.¡±

    ¡°I could not possibly say,¡± She replied, embarrassed.

    ¡°Come now¡­¡± He assured her. ¡°Just a whisper. I won''t tell.¡±

    The two leaned toward each other.

    Elsha reached out with her left hand, brushing it through the young man¡¯s hair. It stopped on his neck, caressing it playfully.

    ¡°My name¡­¡± She whispered. ¡°Is Elsha Vorva Gray.¡±

    The lordling¡¯s eyes widened. He tried to pull back, but Elsha gripped him tight by the throat.

    ¡°Your¨C your a Gray.¡± He stammered, sweat beading on his forehead. ¡°And your father is¡­ Kafalan Gray?¡±

    ¡°The very same.¡± She cooed, sharp nails caressing his jugular. ¡°Now¡­ My father has agreements with many of the smaller houses of the Inkhold family, and I believe the Clauson¡¯s are one of them, yes?¡±

    The boy nodded, face going pale.

    ¡°Hmm¡­¡± She pondered. ¡°What do you think my father would do if I told him how you¡¯ve treated me today?¡±

    Carl swallowed.

    ¡°Do you think he¡¯d be happy, young scion?¡±

    The boy shook his head.

    ¡°No¡­ no he wouldn''t.¡± She confirmed. ¡°But, I won¡¯t be telling him. Since, even mentioning your name in his presence would elevate you at court.¡±

    The boy began to relax, but stopped when Elsha gripped him tighter.

    ¡°But, what I will do.¡± She whispered. ¡°Is keep a close eye on you, Carl Clauson.¡± Her thumb nail caressed his chin. ¡°Our networks are both deep, and wide. And if I hear that you¡¯ve been causing trouble for any other young ladies, I won¡¯t tell my father¡­ I¡¯ll call on you directly¡­ and it will not be pleasant.¡±

    She let go.

    The boy''s face was sheet white. He swiveled stiffly back to his seat.

    Him and his friends made no further sounds.

    ¡°Feeling better?¡± Kint asked, amused.

    She thought about it for a moment.

    ¡°Yes. Quite a bit, actually.¡±

    Kint grinned.

    ¡°I¡¯ve never heard you use your family name like that.¡± He commented.

    ¡°I know, I really shouldn¡¯t have.¡± She sighed, grimacing. ¡°Ugh, father¡¯s bound to hear about this. He¡¯s got Creepers everywhere.¡±

    ¡°You think he could get us out of this mission?¡± Kint asked playfully.

    ¡°Certainly not.¡±

    She gave him a smile that did not reach her eyes.

    ¡°But, I don¡¯t think we need to worry too much.¡± She soothed.

    ¡°We¡¯re meeting with a Lord, Elsha.¡± Kint grumbled. ¡°There¡¯s bound to be trouble.¡±

    Elsha raised an eyebrow.

    ¡°You know, for most people, this would be the honor of a lifetime.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m Forty-Five.¡± He said, flatly. ¡°Honors and accolades are wasted on me. I just want stability.¡±

    ¡°You think I don¡¯t want the same?¡± She questioned, irritated. ¡°I quite like how things are¡­ I¡¯m just saying, a Black Sealed summons isn¡¯t the kind of call to adventure they make it out to be. If a command comes in a Black Seal, a good Lord will have chosen an emissary with the skills to carry it out¡­¡±

    ¡°And what might those skills be?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m still working that out.¡± She grimaced. ¡°But Crecious must see something we don¡¯t. He is a genius after all.¡±

    ¡°Is he?¡± Kint questioned. ¡°I thought that was just propaganda.¡±

    Elsha shook her head.

    ¡°He¡¯s the real deal.¡± She confirmed, ¡°A friend of mine says Crecius is a generational mind. Just below Fadien.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡±

    Fadien was the architect of modern life in Kaden City. Designer of every major invention from the Information Network to the Root System.

    ¡°Is this friend of yours a trustworthy source?¡± Kint interrogated. ¡°He¡¯s not just some layabout from the Shade is he?¡±

    ¡°Oh he is that.¡± She grinned. ¡°But he¡¯s also the Lord of the 4th Doene District.¡±

    ¡°Fair enough.¡± Kint shrugged. ¡°What else does he say about our Lord? Anything useful?¡±

    She put a finger to her lips in thought.

    ¡°Fatcher says he¡¯s too trusting. Easily manipulated.¡± She answered. ¡°Though, I doubt that¡¯s true anymore.¡±

    ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡±

    ¡°A trusting Lord would never last in the Ignatium.¡± She replied. ¡°Crecius has been in power for fifteen years now, so he must have some tact.¡±

    Kint nodded slowly, his nerves calming a bit.

    It wasn¡¯t much, but at least they weren¡¯t going in blind.

    The final stop came a few minutes later.

    The two Inspectors stood making their way to the door.

    They exited, joining the flow of people bustling off the platform.

    Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

    The Inspectors were pushed out into a gray tunnel, pressed toward a stairway shrouded in yellow light.

    As they crested the top of the stairs, Kint froze.

    People spat slurs in his direction as he became an obstacle to their path, but he didn¡¯t care.

    Elsha looked back at him and smiled.

    ¡°Welcome to The Core.¡±

    Kint stared into the sky of the enormous hollowed out center of the Stalwart Tree. A thousand crystal chandeliers shone yellow light down upon them. In between those lights, were massive cylindrical glass tubes that extended from the floor, thousands of feet into the misty ceiling above. Within the pillars, platforms rose and fell, carrying people to and from the Ignatium.

    ¡°Come on.¡± Elsha urged, pulling him forward.

    ¡°Those are called Vines.¡± She explained, as they moved. ¡°They can take you anywhere in the Ignatium.¡±

    Kint gawked as thick steel beams pushed the Vine¡¯s inner platforms from below.

    ¡°How do you know where they¡¯re going?¡± He asked, not seeing any obvious signage.

    ¡°They¡¯re arranged in concentric circles, each sectioned off like a pie. Every section represents one of the houses, and every circle represents a function: Research, Education, Entertainment, that sort of thing.¡± She explained.

    They kept moving, Kint¡¯s eyes catching on one marvel after another.

    The Core was like a thousand District Squares in one. There were hawkers, artists, great sculptures, and impressive magics all around them. Food stands packed with people dotted every turn. Sculptures of glass and stone reached to the sky, dazzling in every curve.

    ¡°Where are we heading?¡± Kint asked.

    ¡°We¡¯re going to the Vorvan District Capitol, in the center circle.¡±

    Kint¡¯s eyes were alight with wonder.

    He was usually averse to the ¡®miracles¡¯ of the Apostles, seeing the sacrifices they made in the name of progress. But this¡­ this was different.

    ¡°Not so bad in the Blessed world, is it old man?¡±

    ¡°If things like this were all your people did, the world would be blessed indeed.¡±

    ¡°Fair enough.¡± She shrugged, seeding the point.

    ¡°Where do those go?¡±

    Kint pointed to a Vine whose platform was sinking instead of rising. The citizens standing, clearly laborers.

    ¡°They¡¯re heading to The Pyre.¡± She replied.

    ¡°They Pyre?¡±

    ¡°Below us are many layers of hidden magical technologies that support the Core and the city above.¡±

    ¡°Looks like fun¡­¡± He grumbled.

    ¡°Most certainly not.¡± She agreed. ¡°But, it pays well and the Overseers are happy to do it.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure¡­¡± Kint frowned, doubting that anyone would be happy working in a place called The Pyre.

    ¡°What else is down there?¡± Kint asked, pointing to several Blessed who¡¯d stepped onto the platform at the last minute.

    ¡°Oh, just a few tunnels.¡± She gave him a secretive smile.

    ¡°Tunnels?¡±

    He raised an eyebrow.

    She nodded.

    ¡°That¡¯s where the real secrets are kept.¡± She grinned. ¡°A massive network of hidden tunnels, extending all throughout the city.¡±

    ¡°Do these tunnels have a name?¡±

    ¡°They wouldn¡¯t be much of a secret if they did?¡± She replied.

    ¡°They don¡¯t seem like a secret at all.¡±

    ¡°Here we are.¡± Elsha pointed to a Vine marked with the Owl and Quill of House Vorva.

    There were over a dozen people waiting on the lift, ranging from powdered businessmen to priests.

    A tall man with a golden tree sigel of an Overseer emblazoned on his chest stood by the door, ushering them through.

    Once the Inspectors were on the platform, the Overseer put his hand to the glass of the Vine.

    Kint watched in amazement as the opening in the glass that had acted as a door, slid closed by no mechanism he could see.

    The Overseer removed his hand from the glass, moving to the center of the platform to stand behind a small control panel with a large clear crystal set in it¡¯s center.

    He placed a hand on the clear stone, concentration marking his face.

    Kint stumbled slightly as the platform began to rise.

    Elsha grinned at his discomfort.

    She tapped him on the shoulder, directing him to the edge of the lift.

    He followed, watching the bustling crowds fall away, as they ascended into the unnatural mists above.

    Kint desperately wanted to dowse the unnatural clouds and so much else inside the Core, but he held himself back.

    ¡°Look.¡±

    Elsha pointed to the right.

    The Inspectors eyes widened.

    There were shadows moving in the mist.

    He squinted as one of the shapes approached.

    It was a young man. Just a teenager really.

    He was flew among the clouds like a bird, dodging in and out between the vines.

    The boy stopped, catching Kint¡¯s eye. He floated in front of their Vine, throwing a condescending grin at the ground bound Inspector.

    He seemed to hear something in the distance, turning and moving away towards a larger group of shadows.

    ¡°It¡¯s the shoes.¡± Elsha commented, drawing his attention to them.

    Kint looked closer, seeing the glint of blue crystals attached to the boys boots.

    ¡°Even the clumsiest Wind Weaver can fly with those.¡±

    ¡°Incredible.¡± He muttered. He couldn¡¯t help it.

    ¡°Crecius invented them.¡± She noted.

    Kint gave her a skeptical eyebrow.

    ¡°Genius.¡± She said with a shrug.

    He had to agree.

    The light changed as they neared the ceiling, heading for a hole above.

    The world went black. The only light in the cylinder was the yellow glow of the crystal beneath the Overseer¡¯s hand.

    It was several minutes, before two doors slid open above them, subjecting the group to a dazzling cloudless sky.

    ¡°Welcome to the Ignatium.¡± The Overseer said, as the passengers began stepping off the platform.

    Kint blinked repeatedly, eyes adjusting to the harsh light.

    He had pause again, as the Vorvan Branch Capitol was laid out before him.

    The path ahead was half a mile long and 100 feet wide. Every step laid with marble and lined with towering redwood trees, creating a corridor.

    He glanced at Elsha.

    There was no wonder on her face. Just anxiety and determination.

    ¡°Come on.¡± She said, jostling him forward.

    They made their way down the glistening marble street in silence. It was a struggle not to gawk, Blessed men and women flew overhead. His eyes opened further when he spotted where they were landing.

    The Vorvan Capitol was a marvel of magical construction. The exterior was made from stacking spirals of purple glass and marble, swirling dozens of stories high. His eyes followed the ascending design, to where it unfurled at the roof, waterfalls descending from lily petals to fall into a surrounding moat.

    They crossed a bridge over the moat, moving through massive double doors, inside.

    They reached the center of the building, where twin helix staircases led to the floors above. Men and women flew between the stairwells, others rose using miniature rising platforms set into the floor like the Vines of The Core.

    Some used the stairs, but most chose not to.

    Magecraft was abundant here. Another reminder of the difference between the Blessed and the Kadenites.

    They moved in silence, Elsha leading the way through curved halls.

    Kint began to sweat, his partners rigid determination was bringing his anxiety up once again.

    The reached the end of the corridor, arriving at an extremely wide waiting area of sorts.

    There were a set of benches along the inside wall, for them to sit.

    The wall opposite them was made from magic glass. Similar to the Vines earlier, it had no visible door.

    The room behind the glass had to be massive, to extend so far across.

    The two Inspectors sat, stewing in renewed nervous tension.

    Kint¡¯s eyes locked onto the wall ahead quickly noticing an odd pattern making it¡¯s way across the glass.

    Purple and black waves shimmered in constant motion across the wall, obstructing the room behind. The two colors crashed into and overlapped each other like a battle of fresh and saltwater. It was mesmerizing. A welcome distraction.

    After a few minutes, his entertainment stopped.

    The glass becoming translucent in an instant.

    Kint could make out a large, well adorned room beyond.

    There were footsteps to the right.

    The Inspectors turned, watching glass slide away for two Priests to step out.

    They wore the gaudy gold and white robes Kint so disliked.

    The men whispered to each other as they shuffled past, hoods drawn.

    Another figure soon exited. A priest of far more rustic sensabilities.

    He wore a nondescript gray robe, with a stern bearing.

    The man turned back to the door, speaking final words into the room before bowing and making his exit.

    As he walked to join his fellow clergymen, Kint got a look at the priest.

    His eyes widened as their gazes met. The Priest hitched up, recognition plain in his silver eyes. He adjusted quickly, however, meeting up with his colleagues and disappearing around the corner.

    Elsha stared at him skeptically.

    ¡°What?¡± Kint grumbled.

    ¡°You know him?¡± She asked. ¡°You know Scepter Grayson?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± He replied, annoyed.

    ¡°Kint¡­ He¡¯s one of the youngest Sceptor¡¯s in history.¡± She stated. ¡°and one of the most powerful people in the Branch. How could you possibly know him?¡±

    ¡°We were in the Academy together.¡± Kint admitted, as if it were nothing.

    ¡°The Academy?¡± She repeated, eyes widening. ¡°The Breylock Academy?¡±

    Before Kint could answer, a rumbling voice spoke from the far side of the corridor.

    ¡°You may Entah.¡± An enormous man called.

    Elsha gave him a look that said their conversation wasn¡¯t finished.

    The two Inspectors stood, approaching the door gingerly.

    A massive Acolyte with dark skin and sleeveless robes stood at the entryway. It was clear what his purpose was. He was intimidating in every conceivable way.

    The man looked down at them as they passed, face a mask.

    The door sealed shut behind them, the dancing battle of purple and black beginning again.

    Kint scanned the wide room.

    The Lord''s office was curved like the hall outside, and much deeper than he''d expected. It extended at least fifty paces before another color shifting wall shielded them from the outside. There was a large sitting area to the right, and beyond that, a workshop.

    Half-baked projects, unfinished books, and easels covered in designs were cluttered in the massive space.

    The room was dark, with the two crystal chandeliers generating a dim light, long shadows creeping across the floor.

    Lord Crecius sat to their left, behind a wide Mahogany desk.

    While Kint hadn¡¯t expected Kalavan Korth, he was surprised by how unthreatening the man seemed.

    He was slightly pudgy, brown hair balding at the top. Dressed in loose-fitting scholar''s robes of Vorvan Purple, he certainly looked the part of his learned ancestors.

    The man leaned over his desk, consumed by work, scribbling precise markings with a sharp pen.

    A slender Acolyte stood behind the Lord, providing all the menacing atmosphere needed in the room. He was bald, with a long face, sharp nose, and deep set brown eyes. He wore a gray and black vest with a black shirt, and no jacket, marking him as an Executive. Only Acolytes of substantial rank were allowed to wear anything other than house colors.

    The bald man gestured them to sit in stiff wooden chairs in front of the desk.

    Kint rubbed sweaty palms along his pants as he lowered himself to the uncomfortable seat.

    His brow furrowed.

    He could feel a presence behind him, something dangerous.

    The room was silent, but for the scritching of the lord''s pen.

    Kint risked checking over his shoulder to be sure.

    His eyes went wide.

    A sprawling dark substance hung in the air behind them.

    The alien mass flowed, spreading and contracting in a thousand different directions, the dim light unable to pierce its thick weaves. Hundreds of enmeshed silk spindles curled around and through each other, slowly rippling in a wind Kint could not feel. The thing had a sinister air. Extremities extending like tentacles.

    It felt alive, the way the pieces moved, coiling and uncoiling. Even with his knowledge in magical flows, Kint could not fathom its creation.

    ¡°It won¡¯t hurt you.¡± The Lord cut through his distraction.

    He looked up, but the man was already back to his scribblings.

    Crecius raised his free hand.

    ¡°Inspectors¡­¡± The Executive began in a cultured tone. ¡°You have been called upon by Lord Crecius Vorva, to complete a task under The Black Seal. Do you understand what this entails?¡±

    Elsha gave a solemn nod. Kint was less confident.

    ¡°To a Kadenite, the Black Seal is the highest honor.¡± He explained. ¡°It signifies that the Lord has a task and you alone have the attributes to carry it out.¡±

    ¡°I Beg your pardon.¡± Elsha cut in, drawing an annoyed look from the Acolyte. ¡°But, what are those attributes¡­ exactly?¡±

    The Executive narrowed his eyes.

    ¡°Are you questioning our Lord¡¯s judgment?¡±

    She shook her head vehemently.

    ¡°No, no¡­ Please¡­ Continue.¡±

    The stern man grimaced, but let the affront slide.

    ¡°Luckily for you Inspector Elsha, the subtlety of your mind is not why we sought you out.¡±

    Kint¡¯s hand tightened a bit on his left knee.

    ¡°In fact, Lord Crecius asks, is that you do your jobs.¡±

    Elsha frowned, concerned.

    ¡°Then why¨C¡±

    ¡°Miss Gray.¡± The man snapped. ¡°Once, can be forgiven, but to ques¡ª¡±

    Lord Crecius held up a hand, stopping the Acolyte in his tracks.

    The Acolyte stepped back in deference.

    The Lord¡¯s rounded face rose slowly from the pages on his desk.

    His head cocked to one side, tired eyes locked on Elsha¡¯s, observing.

    There was a weight to that gaze, a sharpness that spoke of intelligence, like he was dissecting her.

    There was something else too¡­

    An emotion that made Kint uncomfortable, but he couldn¡¯t quite place it.

    ¡°Elsha¡­ Gray¡­¡±

    The Lord sounded out the words, tasting them.

    He grimaced.

    ¡°Elsha Vorva Gray, correct?¡± He asked.

    His voice had a nassaly quality to it, but that did not take away from its command.

    ¡°Yes, my Lord.¡± Elsha nodded.

    Sweat coated her forehead.

    ¡°The rebel Gray¡­ still causing trouble.¡±

    He shook his head, clicking his tongue.

    ¡°You know, your father was a great help to me when I first took this office.¡± The Lord commented. ¡°He bought some of my early designs. Gave me the money I needed for more¡­ experimental projects.¡±

    There was tense pause. His eyes never drifted from Elsha¡¯s.

    ¡°Really?¡± Elsha replied, a tremble to her words. ¡°He¡¯s a difficult man to see.¡±

    The Lord nodded, never blinking.

    ¡°He was very generous with me. Recognizing my talent early on.¡± He stated, ¡°Not so early as your brothers, though.¡±

    Elsha stiffened.

    ¡°They were my earliest patrons, back at the Holy institute.¡± The Lord grinned, remembering it fondly.

    ¡°They saw something in me. Took me under their wing when no one else would.¡± He continued. ¡°They taught me many lessons¡­ shared many secrets.¡±

    Elsha sat painfully still, breath shallow. Like she was hiding from a predator.

    ¡°They told me of the fun you had as children.¡± He cooed, giving her a look full of meaning.

    Her face paled.

    Kint had never seen her like this. He felt his teeth grinding.

    ¡°After such a childhood, I suspect control is important for you.¡± He pondered. ¡°The Kadenites make for such simple company. It makes sense that you¡¯d choose to work with them.¡±

    Her lip twitched. His words cut with every syllable.

    ¡°You¡¯ve built a nice life in my district. A safe one.¡± He noted. ¡°But, however far you¡¯ve drifted, you are still Blessed. Still subject to the game, and while you are in my district you are under my thumb.¡±

    A twitch of a smile chipping his stony face.

    Kint worked his jaw, staring into the shifting darkness above. Fearing his expression would give him away.

    ¡°And you, Inspector...¡±

    ¡°Inspector Kint Archaedis, my Lord.¡± The Acolyte supplied.

    ¡°And you, Inspector Kint.¡± He began again, shifting his attention. ¡°You seem to be more interested in my Shadow than my words.¡±

    Kint schooled his face, leveling his gaze at the portly man. As their eyes met, he finally recognized what had been unsettling him.

    Apathy.

    The man was utterly bored.

    Lowly Kadenite¡¯s and wayward Blessed were unworthy of his time. It seemed the only entertainment he¡¯d gotten so far was in torturing young Elsha.

    ¡°It¡¯s an interesting toy, my Lord.¡± Kint gestured to the Shadow above.

    He was unable to keep a hint of heat from his voice.

    The room chilled to a shiver.

    Quiet descended.

    Noises he had not noticed, movements that had seemed innocuous, all stopped in an instant. Everything froze. The swirling colors on the windows, the Lord''s ¡°shadow¡± above, even the tiny flecks of dust that fell from the ceiling.

    Lord Crecius¡¯ face revealed nothing, but for a micro-twitch of pressurized fury below his eye.

    ¡°¡®Toy¡¯.¡± He spoke, voice hot. ¡°Why ¡®Toy¡¯? Why that word?¡±

    Kint¡¯s anger fled. A cold sweat replacing it.

    He couldn¡¯t help it. In his reckless fury, he¡¯d used the word he¡¯d seen in the Sentinels missive this morning.

    ¡°I¡­¡± He stumbled. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I¡¯ve never seen anything like it¡­ I''m not much for words.¡±

    The Lord¡¯s eyes tightened on him, dissecting.

    It was hard to fully comprehend the display of power occurring around him. It was obvious now, Lord himself had been controlling both the windows and the tentacled mass above with his magic. A feat that would kill a Waver Class Mage, accomplished with a thought. Then, to drop the temperature of the room so quickly... It seemed impossible. And yet it was happening.

    The man was a Wind Weaver. A Master Class Mage.

    After what seemed like an infinite space of time, the Lord glanced at Elsha, an idea coming to him.

    ¡°Do you have children, Inspector Kint?¡± The Blessed asked, voice cold.

    ¡°Yes, My Lord.¡± Kint replied, it was an effort to get the words out.

    ¡°A daughter.¡± The Lord said, not guessing.

    Kint nodded.

    A smile quirked the portly man¡¯s lips. He raised a meaningful eyebrow. The threat was obvious. It didn¡¯t need to be spoken.

    He let the pause settle, then nodded.

    ¡°Discretion and Expediency. That is why you¡¯re here.¡± The Lord stated, picking up his pen. ¡°I don¡¯t need ambition. The only reward you should expect is a painful death should you fail.¡±

    His tired eyes roamed slowly between the two of them.

    ¡°Discretion.¡± He repeated, pointing the tip of his pen toward Elsha for emphasis.

    ¡°and expediency.¡± He finished, pointing the pen at Kint.

    The Lord paused, making sure they understood.

    Then¡­ like nothing had happened, he returned to his work. The once threatening pen now scritching away at the paper beneath.

    Kint felt his heart rate slow as the room returned to its normal temperature, the magical artifacts beginning to move again.

    On cue, the bald Acolyte stepped forward.

    ¡°Two of Lord Crecius¡¯ Acolytes have been murdered in the 11th Inkhold District.¡± The slender Executive began. ¡°They were murdered in one of the Lord¡¯s factory holding¡¯s. They were both Crafter Class Mages, which leads us to believe they were killed by another Mage. The Lord has already deduced that this heinous crime is the work of an old rival, which makes your job easy. All you have to do is collect the evidence necessary to support his conclusion. Interview the witnesses, follow up on leads, and come back to us in three days time with a full report.¡±

    The Acolyte paused, as if either of them would question him at this point.

    ¡°As my Master has stated, Discretion and Expediency are the goals. Do not speak of this to anyone not involved, and do not dally on leads that won¡¯t support the Lord¡¯s conclusion. Is this understood?¡±

    His hollow eyes shifted between them.

    They nodded.

    ¡°Good¡­ then you will begin this afternoon.¡± He commanded.

    He Reached into a pocket of his vest, pulling out two gold seals with the House Vorva crest on them.

    ¡°These are your Seals. They are proof of your mission. They will get you into any door outside those of the Five Apostles themselves."

    The two Inspectors rose, grabbing a sigil each.

    "You shouldn¡¯t need to use them, but if you do, you¡¯d better have a very good reason.¡±

    He gave them a warning eye.

    ¡°We¡¯ve sent Acolytes ahead to assist you, so don¡¯t dally.¡±

    Kint and Elsha stood, taking their cue.

    ¡°And Inspectors.¡±

    They turned, meeting the bald man¡¯s eyes.

    ¡°Do not fail us.¡±

    The meeting was over.

    ¡°This way, Inspectors.¡± The towering Acolyte by the door called, ushering them out.

 Chapter 8 - The Right Way

    Kint glanced at his partner.

    Neither has spoken as they rode the empty Tube to the 11th Inkhold District.

    Much had been hinted at in their meeting with the Lord. Too much.

    He wanted to apologize for even hearing it.

    Should he address it? Call it out? Make light of it?

    These were not waters he was used to navigating.

    He grimaced.

    How could he make this better?

    Kint remained silent, tension building as they neared their destination.

    ¡°Couldn¡¯t keep your mouth shut, eh?¡± Elsha questioned.

    Kint was relieved to see a tenuous smile on her beautiful face.

    ¡°You¡¯re one to talk.¡±

    She snorted a laugh.

    The tension dissipated.

    ¡°Safe to say The Sentinel hit a nerve with our Lord.¡± She commented.

    ¡°I¡¯d say so.¡± Kint chuckled.

    His ¡®toy¡¯ comment had gotten under the man¡¯s skin far more than he¡¯d expected.

    The Tube began to slow as they approached the 11th Inkhold.

    ¡°Thank you.¡± Elasha whispered.

    Kint looked at her, puzzled.

    ¡°What for?¡± he asked.

    ¡°You stood up for me. In your own way.¡±

    Her earnest eyes locked on his.

    "You had no way of knowing how he might react. He could have killed us on the spot, but you said it anyway."

    She shook her head, smiling.

    ¡°Idiot.¡±

    ¡°I¡­¡±

    A tightness grabbed at Kint¡¯s chest.

    ¡°I was just irritated, that¡¯s all¡­ You can stand up for yourself just fine.¡±

    ¡°And don¡¯t you forget it.¡± She replied.

    She gave him a soft smile.

    ¡°But still¡­ It¡¯s feels good to have someone on your side¡­ you know?¡±

    The train glided to a stop.

    Before Kint could reply, Elsha stood, making her way out of the Tube.

    The Inspector sat there, the tightness in his chest holding him. The warmth...

    He shook himself, hopping out of his seat and hustling to catch up with her as she exited to the streets above.

    The two were immediately hit by a blast of humid air tasting of rust. The Shroud was so thick he could feel it on his skin.

    They were at a crossroads.

    Looking around, it was hard to tell which direction they were facing, the mist too thick to reveal any landmarks.

    There was cobbled stone underfoot and Mage Forged apartments on every side. Poorly kept Aqueducts covered in corroding network pipes spread out in all directions.

    The Inspectors looked around. There was no one in sight.

    ¡°Weren¡¯t they supposed to meet us here?¡± Elsha questioned.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±

    ¡°This is off to a good start.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re probably already at the scene.¡± Kint surmised.

    Elsha let out an annoyed sigh.

    ¡°Guess we¡¯ll have to find it ourselves.¡±

    She craned her head, looking this way and that.

    ¡°Any ideas?¡±

    Kint pointed to the street in front of them.

    His partner shrugged.

    ¡°Sure. Why not?¡±

    The two made their way down block after block. With the overlapping grays of fog, streets, and stone apartments, they could have been walking in loops and not known it.

    Kint made a sudden left turn, taking Elsha by surprise.

    ¡°Do you know where we¡¯re going?¡± She asked.

    ¡°Pipes.¡± He grunted.

    ¡°Pipes?¡±

    Kint pointed to the aqueducts above, where dozens of parallel pipes were bolted.

    ¡°Some of them are much newer than others.¡± He explained. ¡°Those¡¯ll be going to the Factory Quarter.¡±

    ¡°How can you know that?¡± She pressed.

    ¡°Because if I was running a business. I wouldn¡¯t trust the maintenance of my infrastructure to the lord of a Mule District.¡±

    Elsha nodded slowly, understanding.

    They kept walking, making it another half a dozen blocks before Elsha heard a shuffle from an alley beside them.

    Her eyes shot in the direction of the Shrouded street.

    Shadows moved in the fog.

    ¡°Street urchins.¡± Kint commented. ¡°They¡¯re common in Mule Districts.¡±

    "You''ve said that twice now... what does it mean?" She asked.

    He looked at her skeptically.

    ¡°I¡¯m surprised you don¡¯t know.¡±

    ¡°I was too pretty to pay attention at the Academy.¡±

    Kint gave a harsh chuckle.

    ¡°They probably wouldn¡¯t have taught you this at the Academy.¡± He conceded. ¡°It¡¯s more of a Kadenite term.¡±

    ¡°Which means?¡± She pressed.

    "A Mule District is one where Kadenites are treated like animals.¡± He said flatly.

    ¡°Aren¡¯t Districts structured so that doesn¡¯t happen?¡± Elsha asked, confused.

    ¡°Districts are, but the city has its own economy.¡± He explained. ¡°When a District has no resources, no river ways, and no culture of success.  Land and Labor are all it has left. An enterprising Lord like Crecius might take on the challenge of building something in such a poor district. But most aren¡¯t so ambitious.¡± He grimaced. ¡°They¡¯re happy to rent out their factories and citizens for easy coin.¡±

    They turned another corner.

    ¡°But, why would an Apostle Family allow a Lord to treat their District in such a way?¡± She asked, ¡°Seems embarrassing to me.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s a market for it.¡± Kint grunted. ¡°Apostles need a place to put their dullard children, and the renting lords need cheap labor without the headaches of disgruntled Kadenites.¡±

    "Sounds like the kadenites are getting a tough deal."

    He nodded.

    "Many die young. Ground down by the work.¡±

    He gestured to a nearby alley.

    ¡°The urchins are what¡¯s left behind.¡±

    Elsha shook her head, perplexed.

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t seem fair.¡± She muttered.

    Kint chuckled.

    ¡°Who told you the Kaden City was fair?"

    She gave him a skeptical look.

    ¡°You seem to know a lot more about this place than just ¡®pipes¡¯ Kint.¡±

    The aged Inspector paused.

    ¡°A friend of mine used to live around here.¡±

    ¡°Inspector Kint has friends now¡­ ¡± His partner joked. "Imagine that."

    The two Inspectors arrived at the Factory Quarter. The transition from the residential to industrial setting was fluid. The Factory buildings were made of the same gray stone as the apartments. The only difference was that the Factories were bigger, and had fewer windows.

    Now was when the real searching began.

    The Inspectors turned, the clacking of footsteps catching their attention.

    Elsha groaned as they spotted a young man through the Shroud.

    Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    ¡°Inspectors.¡± The straight-laced Apprentice bowed.

    ¡°Payter.¡± Kint greeted.

    Elsha stayed silent.

    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± He asked.

    ¡°The mayor sent me.¡± Payter stated. ¡°He wants to make sure things go smoothly.¡±

    ¡°So he sent an apprentice?¡± Elsha questioned.

    The boy shrugged.

    ¡°I believe his words were, ¡®Make sure those two idiots don¡¯t fuck it up.¡¯¡±

    ¡°Well, we¡¯ve already done that, so I guess you can go home.¡± Elsha quipped.

    Kint groaned.

    ¡°Really?¡± The Apprentice asked. ¡°Has something happened?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s nothing to worry about. Just a miscommunication with the Lord, but it''s all sorted.¡± Kint replied.

    Moving on from the uncomfortable topic.

    ¡°Do you happen to know where we¡¯re going?¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡± Payter said, eager. ¡°Follow me.¡±

    Trailing after the young man, Kint leaned over to Elsha.

    ¡°What¡¯s your issue?¡± He asked.

    ¡°It¡¯s nothing.¡± She grimaced. ¡°The boy gets my hackles up, that¡¯s all.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s ambitious, don¡¯t fault him for it.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not it.¡± She said, shaking her head. ¡°There¡¯s just¡­ Something''s off about him. He¡¯s too desperate.¡±

    ¡°Desperate?¡± Kint frowned, confused. ¡°He¡¯s an earnest kid, Elsha. He just trying to find his place.¡±

    ¡°Maybe¡­¡± She whispered, unconvinced.

    The three turned a corner, finally catching sight of two black suited Acolytes with purple vests. They flanked either side of a steel factory door.

    Several Kadenites loitered in the area, features concealed by the Shroud.

    Kint turned to the Apprentice Inspector.

    ¡°If you want to be helpful, start by getting a sense of who saw or heard anything last night.¡±

    He pointed to the Kadenites.

    The young redhead nodded, making his way over.

    ¡°Write down anything interesting.¡± Kint called after him.

    That done, the Inspectors approached the waiting Acolytes.

    Kint pulled out his gold Seal.

    "Lord Crecius sent us."

    The taller of the two men raised an eyebrow.

    "You''re late.¡± He noted. ¡°Punctuality is a minimum expectation for those in our Lord¡¯s employ."

    "Terribly sorry." Elsha replied. "We would have known how to get here if we were in the Lord¡¯s own district."

    The Acolyte sneered at the quip but did not rise to it.

    ¡°You¡¯re both aware of the objective?" He continued, raising a questioning eyebrow.

    They nodded.

    "Good. Then I don''t have to remind you to do things the right way. No painting outside the lines."

    "We understand." Kint confirmed.

    "Very well." He nodded, grabbing the heavy door and pulling it open. "Then you¡¯d best get to it."

    The two Inspectors moved toward the opening, but the bulky Acolyte held them up.

    "We had the bodies moved to the Mortuary in the 13th." He noted. ¡°So don¡¯t be surprised when you don¡¯t see them.¡±

    "You moved the bodies?" Elsha questioned, stunned.

    The two Acolytes gave her a flat look.

    ¡°That a problem?¡± The second Acolyte asked, voice raspy.

    Kint felt a shiver go down his spine.

    He hadn¡¯t noticed earlier, but the slender Acolyte was definitely the more dangerous of the two. His eyes had the hollow look of a killer and the silver gauntlet on his arm was the weapon of a mage.

    ¡°No problem.¡± Kint cut in, before his parter could get them into trouble.

    "You can see the corpses at headquarters if you want." The big one added. ¡°But if you¡¯re doing this the right way, you shouldn¡¯t have to.¡±

    Kint nodded, ushering Elsha inside.

    "How are we supposed to solve a double murder without the bodies?" She whispered.

    The door closed be behind them with a thud.

    "They''re keeping their distance." He noted, ignoring her question. "They don''t want to be seen steering the investigation."

    "Well that would make sense." Elsha snorted. "If they hadn''t already moved the damn bodies."

    ¡°They don¡¯t want to be seen affecting it.¡± Kint corrected. ¡°It¡¯s all about optics. Probably some political bullshit.¡±

    ¡°Hmph.¡± Elsha grunted, moving farther into the open space. ¡°I wonder what it is?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯d know better than I would.¡± He muttered.

    The aged Inspector surveyed the scene, rubbing his fingers across a dusty workbench.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I don¡¯t really pay attention to the game anymore¡± She shrugged. ¡°Still, seems like a lot of trouble to go to. Especially in one of these Mule Districts.? ¡±

    Kint shrugged.

    ¡°You¡¯re not curious?¡± She prodded.

    "No."

    He gave her a sharp look.

    ¡°Why are you?¡± He asked. ¡°Crecius made it pretty clear what our job is. The longer we take doing it, the greater the chance of trouble.¡±

    ¡°Fine.¡± She sighed, shoulders slumping.

    ¡°That means no more antagonizing out Acolyte minders.¡± He added, nodding his head to the door.

    She gave him an innocent eye.

    ¡°Not even a little bit?¡±

    ¡°Not a word.¡± He grumbled.

    ¡°Ugh.¡± She pouted. ¡°You¡¯re no fun.¡±

    ¡°No, I just don¡¯t have a Blessed Father to save me from consequences.¡± He snapped.

    ¡°Ouch.¡± She whispered, a hurt expression on her face.

    Kint grimaced.

    ¡°Sorry, Elsha. I¡¯m just stressed. I didn¡¯t mean that.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡± She gave a wan smile. ¡°It¡¯s a fair point.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s just get this over with, okay?¡± He asked. ¡°I think I¡¯ve had enough of our Lord¡¯s ire for one day.¡±

    ¡°For a lifetime.¡± She snorted.

    Kint let out a chuckle, finishing his examination of the space.

    ¡°Check up there.¡± He said, pointing to the Factories upper level. ¡°I¡¯ll look around down here.¡±

    Elsha nodded, and they began their investigation in earnest.

    The aged Inspector explored an aisle between rows of work benches.

    Flecks of dust swirled in the light from the windows above.

    There were three sets of benches in total, each furnished with slots and cubbies for various tools. He checked under and around them, finding nothing.

    Up against the back wall, were three dark furnaces. He approached them, searching the ground for clues. Frustration itched in Inspectors mind as he noticed the towering ovens were not evenly spaced. The gap between the second and the third furnace being twice as large as that between the first and second. He inspected the area, noticing scuff marks in the dust around the wall, like someone had walked this section of floor before him.

    He crouched to get a closer look.

    There was no blood spatter, hair, or any other evidence besides the scuff marks.

    As he rose, a glint caught his eye. Beneath the edge of a furnace, was a small blue sapphire. He reached down to grab it, examining it in his hand. It was just a fleck, probably cut from a larger stone. Likely used in the creation of Wind Weaver¡¯s tool.

    He thought of the flying shoes he¡¯d seen earlier today.

    "Kint..." Elsha called from above.

    He dropped the shard.

    Her blonde hair fell around her ear as she peeked from behind the upstairs office door.

    "I think I found the crime scene."

    The aged Inspector climbed to the second level. He stepped past his partner, into an office that overlooked the factory floor.

    It was about the size of the Mayor''s office, with a desk toward the back wall, a chair in front, and a cupboard to one side.

    Blood was everywhere. Walls, desk, and floor were covered in it.

    This was definitely the crime scene.

    "Looks like Mage work." Elsha commented.

    ¡°What gave it away?¡± Kint chuckled.

    ¡°Alright smart one. What else can you tell me?¡± She asked, ¡°Cause, without the bodies, this looks like a blasted mess to me.¡±

    "Give me a minute." He grumbled, face going slack.

    The Inspector closed his eyes, taking a calming breath.

    This surely was a mess, but with a little help, he could find the story inside it.

    He took another breath, and as he exhaled his biases flowed away, emotions dissipating. His mind grew quiet, ready to embrace a driving idea, an objective.

    He was in the Silent State.

    What happened here?

    His eyes opened and information poured in.

    Blood on the floor. Three distinct patterns. Two on the left, one larger pool by the desk.

    Kint moved to examine the desk, He touched a piece of flesh dangling from the corner.

    Brain matter.

    He looked at the circular spot of blood on the ground and nodded.

    One dead body accounted for.

    The Inspector turned, examining the other pools.

    He cocked his head.

    Need a better angle.

    Kint stepped slowly across the room, pausing in the center, another pool of blood directly in front of him. He followd the pool to the back wall, a jet of blood spatter spilled across it, drawing a jagged line.

    Three blood spots, only two bodies. Blood sprayed across the wall.

    He pantomimed a straight punch.

    Ejected from the victims back.

    His eyes narrowed, on the largest blood pattern.

    The torso was severed. Half landed over here...

    He looked down at the two patterns.

    The rest here.

    The second body was now accounted for.

    So how did it all go down?

    He began putting the pieces together, a narrative taking shape.

    But one detail confused him.

    He looked around, judging the distance between the door the desk, and there the bodies had fallen.

    How did the killer get this deep into the room?

    Two options came to mind. Both would work for Lord Crecius¡¯ ends, but still¡­

    Kint¡¯s eyes latched onto the cupboard in the corner. One of the doors was slightly ajar.

    He needed to be sure.

    The Inspector approached, gently pushing the door aside.

    There were a few empty liquor bottles inside, some flakes of blood that could have come from the two dead Acolytes, and¡­

    Kint reached inside, feeling in the corner for something small. He brought the object to his face.

    The Inspector''s eyes widened, a dark thought pushed to the front of his mind... One that changed the story significantly.

    He shook it off.

    Not relevant. Not the right story.

    But, instead of putting the object back, he took out his tobacco tin and placed it inside.

    Kint stood, sliding the tin into his pocket discretely.

    "It''s definitely a Mage." He posited, coming out of the Silent State.

    "Well we know that.¡± Elsha snorted.

    Kint gritted his teeth, irritated.

    "The victims knew their attacker."

    His partner raised an eyebrow.

    ¡°What makes you say that?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s the way they died.¡± Kint answered. ¡°And where.¡±

    He moved to the center of the room, where the two largest blood pools were drying.

    "The first victim died with a punch to the chest." He started, pointing to the blood spray across the wall. "He was ripped in half from the inside, with part of the torso landing here." He gestured to the blood pool on the left. ¡°And the rest falling here.¡± He pointed to the second pool. ¡°The second victim had his skull crushed on the corner of the desk over there.¡± Kint indicated to the brain matter on the desk.

    ¡°Alright¡­¡± Elsha muttered, nodding slowly. ¡°So what does that tell us about the killer? Other than that he was very strong.¡±

    ¡°The blood patterns tell us that made it all the way to where I¡¯m standing without a struggle, then struck in an instant, killing the first Acolyte.¡±

    Kint pantomimed the punching motion again.

    ¡°Which means, either the victims weren¡¯t expecting violence from the attacker.¡± He posed. ¡°Or they knew they had no chance against him from the outset.¡±

    ¡°Hmm.¡± Elsha nodded again, cocking her head in thought. ¡°It¡¯s probably the latter.¡±

    ¡°What makes you say that?¡±

    ¡°Because that¡¯s what our lord thinks.¡± She shrugged. ¡°Most families have assassins on staff, and there¡¯s no way Crecius¡¯ boys would be able to handle them. They¡¯d know they were fucked from the start.¡±

    Kint raised an eyebrow.

    It wasn¡¯t a perfect story, but the pieces fit well enough.

    Besides, Elsha was right. Her story fit best with what the Lord wanted. Why look further?

    The Inspector''s hand went reflexively to his coat pocket, where the tobacco tin rested.

    ¡°Good enough for me.¡± Kint shrugged.

    ¡°Perfect.¡± Elsha grinned, turning to leave. ¡°Back to HQ then.¡±

    "Not yet." He corrected, diminishing her enthusiasm. ¡°We still have to meet the neighbors. Get statements."

    "What? Why?" Elsha groaned. "It¡¯s all a farce anyway, right?¡±

    "True." Kint replied. "But Crecius wants this done ¡®the right way¡¯. Which means, he wants the investigation to look good. And that means canvassing the area.¡±

    "Ugh." Elsha groaned, making her way downstairs. "Isn¡¯t the apprentice boy already doing that?"

    "Oh, you trust Payter, now?" Kint shot back.

    She rolled her eyes.

    "I¡¯d trust a Creeper if it got me out of this Black Seal faster." She huffed.

    "Come on." Kint grinned, knocking on the factory door.

 Chapter 9 - A Close Community

    "Everything sorted out?" The blockish Acolyte asked as they exited.

    "The Lord was right." Kint replied, eyes readjusting to Shrouded streets.

    "Of course he was." The Acolyte grinned. "Man¡¯s a genius."

    "We''ll need to canvas the area. Make it look legitimate."

    He gestured to the Apartments across the way.

    "Things should be sewn up after that."

    "Not gonna check the bodies?" The stout man asked.

    Kint shrugged.

    The Acolyte looked them over, then nodded. Elsha, for her part, remained silent.

    "The Lord judged you well." The man smirked.

    The Inspector grimaced at the comment.

    "Go on then.¡± The Acolyte pointed. ¡°The quicker we get this cauterized the better."

    "Understood." He replied, making his way across the street.

    The Inspectors searched for Payter''s shadow in the Shroud as they walked.

    Elsha pointed to a nearby apartment where the lad was speaking with a slight gentleman.

    Kint called him over.

    The boy arrived, taking a moment to brush wrinkles from his pants.

    "What do you have for us?" Kint asked.

    The boy straightened.

    "I went through each apartment, knocking on the doors of every resident." He began. "Only five of the apartments across the three buildings were occupied. None of the Kadenites were very forthcoming, but a few were willing to talk."

    Elsha gave him a hopeful look.

    "Three should be enough, right?"

    ¡°Should be fine.¡± He shrugged. "Unit numbers?"

    The boy reached into his pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper and handing it to Kint.

    He looked at the writing on the paper, then folded it again, nodding to the lad.

    "This is good work."

    The boy smiled.

    "You can go now, Payter." Elsha added, "Tell Fezzy we¡¯ve got it all handled."

    The young redhead turned to go, then paused.

    "You should speak to Mr. Namzeth first." He commented, pointing to the bookish man. "He¡¯s a bit of a gossip."

    Kint nodded, watching the boy turn a corner, reminded of his younger days.

    He shook his head, smiling.

    ¡°Shall we.¡± Elsha pressed, anxious to be done.

    <hr>

    Mr. Namzeth was a gossip of the worst order.

    He had a gaunt look, with hollow cheeks and thin hair. His eyes were sunk deep in his head, with spectacles that made him look like a bug.

    The Inspectors had hardly asked a question before the imp was giving all the details he had on the area.

    According to Namzeth, the surrounding apartments had been well occupied several months ago. Filled with families who¡¯d lived there for dozens of years. The man indicated he had some sort of leadership role in the community but was unclear exactly what that might be.

    He as if he was the keeper of the histories, except he couldn¡¯t help adding his opinion to every excerpt. He gave detailed accounts of each family''s doings and exactly what he thought about them.

    Kint couldn¡¯t see anyone actually liking the man.

    "Now I can¡¯t say for sure that they were selling Reflection, but I¡¯ll tell you, they drank it quite a lot." He said, finishing a history of the family who¡¯d most recently vacated the building.

    It was then that he finally realized how long he¡¯d been talking.

    ¡°So what¡¯s this about then?¡± He asked, needing a reminder. ¡°Some sort of trouble at the factory?¡±

    Kint nodded, amused.

    "Was it Mr. Insmuth?" The man questioned. ¡°I bet it was him. He¡¯s alway flouting his authority. Especially when he¡¯s drunk.¡±

    The man rubbed his hands as he spoke.

    "The man¡¯s a Junior Acolyte, it¡¯s basically a made up job." He scoffed.

    ¡°The man¡¯s a menace.¡± Elsha whispered in Kint¡¯s ear.

    He smiled.

    ¡°A junior Acolyte?¡± The aged Inspector probed.

    ¡°Lord Echrus¡¯ Kadenite toadies.¡± Namzeth answered, ¡°They¡¯re twice as cruel for half the cost.¡±

    The man grimaced, adjusting his glasses.

    "But not even that oaf wouldn¡¯t be stupid enough to break into a renters property... If he was drunk enough though..." The Kadenite grinned.

    Then he frowned, as if realizing something.

    "Oh... ummm... what is the crime anyway?"

    "Double murder." Elsha chirped.

    Mr. Namzeth stiffened.

    "Double murder..." He repeated, lips trembling.

    "Yes, quite a gruesome affair." Elsha mentioned. "Two Acolytes dead, blood everywhere, not a trace of the killer. Lord Crecius is quite upset.¡±

    "Acolytes..." The man repeated. "Lord Cre--" Mr. Namzeth cut himself off.

    For the first time he truly looked at Kint and Elsha, taking in their faces.

    "I... I don''t recognize you two. Are you new?"

    Elsha raised a surprised eyebrow.

    The man was just now realizing this wasn¡¯t some local hijinx.

    Kint pulled the gold sigil of the Black Seal from his coat, showing it to the man.

    Namzeth went pale.

    "Black seal..." He muttered.

    "Mr. Namzeth, what can you tell us about the events that took place last night at the factory?" Kint questioned. "Did you see or hear anything odd?"

    "Black seal..." He muttered again, eyes distant.

    "No..." He whispered. "No. I haven''t heard anything-- seen anything. I go to bed quite early you see, and I''m a very heavy sleeper."

    "Are you sure?" Kint probed.

    He was enjoying the odious man''s squirming.

    "Sure... Yes, sure. Definitely sure. Nothing happened." The man said, he backed away as he spoke. "I''m truly sorry Inspectors, but I just cannot be of any more assistance on this matter. I''m very busy and I really must be going."

    The man reached back, grasping for the apartment door.

    "Mr. Namzeth..." Elsha cooed.

    "Please." He begged, "I really must be going. If you have questions about the goings on at night, you should ask the Insmuth family. They have a young baby. The woman hasn¡¯t slept in weeks."

    He slammed the door behind him.

    "Should we... Go after him?" Elsha questioned.

    "No." Kint grinned. "He¡¯d just lie to get us out of his hair."

    Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

    Elsha shook her head.

    ¡°He loves talking about other people''s troubles, but doesn¡¯t want to be near it himself.¡±

    Kint snorted, taking out the sheaf of paper Payter had given him.

    "Come on. Looks like the Insmuth''s are on the second floor."

    <hr>

    Kint knocked.

    The worn wooden door opened a crack, a young woman behind it.

    "Who are you?" Came an accented voice.

    "We''re Inspectors, here under the black seal." Kint stated.

    "Yeah?" She said questioningly, "Got proof o'' that?"

    Kint held out the Sigil.

    Mrs. Insmuth grabbed the seal, bringing it behind the door.

    "Mrs. Insmuth, we''re just here to ask a few questions. We''ll be out of your hair in a moment." Elsha soothed.

    The young woman peaked back through the crack, handing back the sigil.

    "Come in if ye have to." She relented, opening the door wide.

    Furniture was sparse in the room, the walls barren. It was painted a dreary yellow, lit by the stale gray light through the fog outside. To the left was a Kitchen with a wood stove, counters, and a dining table.

    Mrs. Insmuth groaned as she sat in a worn leather chair, cradling her sleeping baby.

    The girl was a bit younger than Elsha. She wore a loose fitting blue dress that might once have had a floral pattern on it.

    Kint frowned, noticing the side of her face was marked with dark purple bruising.

    "Well?" Mrs. Insmuth started, voice harsh.

    Kint hesitated, looking at the child, then back to Mrs. Insmuth''s impatient face. Heavy purple circles marked her eyes.

    "Mrs. Insmuth." He began. "A crime was committed across the street at one of Lord Crecius¡¯ properties. We¡¯re told you might have been awake last night?"

    The young woman raised an eyebrow.

    "And who told you that?¡± She questioned. ¡°Namzeth I''ll wager. Sending trouble my way, the bastard."

    "Were you up last night, Mrs. Insmuth?" Kint repeated.

    "Oh, I was up. Can¡¯t keep the little shite down." She replied, nodding to the baby. "But who wants to sleep, anyway¡­ damned dreams" She grimaced. "Can''t say as I heard anything though. This one takes up most of my attention."

    ¡°Could your husband have seen something?¡± Elsha asked.

    "Aye, he might have seen." She smirked. ¡°Not that he could tell ye.¡±

    Kint gave her a questioning look.

    "He¡¯s a bloody drunk." Mrs. Insmuth sneered. "Can barely remember how to use his pecker. But sure, ask ¡®im about his night."

    Kint cleared his throat, uncomfortable.

    "Where could we find Mr. Insmuth, if we needed to?" He asked.

    "He''s one of the Lord''s lackey''s." She grimaced. "He''ll be at the Arena. Like most days."

    He nodded, filing the information away.

    "Well..." The Inspector muttered, readying to leave. "I think we''re done here. We know where to find you if we need anything else."

    She nodded, showing them out.

    He was halfway down the hall before realizing Elsha was not with him.

    The woman was still by the door, talking to Mrs. Insmuth. Kint could barely make out what they were saying.

    "Help?" The girl chided, voice rising. "Help with what? What do you know about it?"

    "I think--" Elsha stammered.

    "You think?" The woman asked, words cracked like a whip. "Think harder next time. Cause we don¡¯t need your help. We solve our own problems down here Inspector. So if you please¡­ fuck off!¡±

    The door slammed shut.

    Elsha stood there, face downcast.

    Eventually, she nodded, turning to meet up with him.

    "Elsha..." He started, hesitant.

    She blinked, giving him an uneven smile.

    "I''m alright Kint." She soothed, making her way past. "Let''s move on, shall we."

    <hr>

    The final apartment was that of a Mrs. Tanzeen.

    Kint knocked on the door, Elsha sulking at his heels.

    "Come in." A muted voice called.

    The apartment was similar to the Insmuth''s, but better adorned.

    Mrs. Tanzeen was hunched over the stove top in the kitchen.

    She turned, straining to pull the tea pot off the stove.

    "Have a seat over there."

    She nodded to a group of cushioned chairs in the sitting area.

    "I put some tea on when the young man said you''d be stopping by."

    Kint tugged Elsha to a chair as she was still lost in thought.

    Mrs. Tanzeen arrived carrying a tray of tea in silver cups. She set it down sitting gingerly in the chair across from them.

    Kint reached out, grabbing a cup.

    Elsha declined.

    Mrs. Tanzeen cupped her goblet in both hands taking a sip.

    At the insistence of her earnest eyes, he took a sip as well.

    A comforting warmth spread through his body, rippling like a massage across his shoulders and chest. It wasn''t the best tea he''d had, but it brought some color to the stale room.

    "So." The elder Kadenite began. "What brings a couple Vorvan Inspectors to my humble home? Young Payter said there was some sort of crime?"

    "Yes." Kint began, but was cut off.

    "I can''t say I''m surprised." Tanzeen continued.

    She looked skeptically out a window to the factory.

    "The way things have been going, I''m shocked it didn''t happen sooner."

    "What do you mean?" He prodded.

    "Well I''m sure you''ve noticed how few people there are in this area?" She commented.

    "I assumed people were moving to where the work is." Kint replied.

    She shook her head.

    "Community means more to us than coin.¡± She smiled. ¡°People were happy to save up a bit and wait for another Lord to rent nearby."

    "So, what''s changed?"

    "Can''t say for sure, but ever since Lord Crecius took over the factory, the folk here have been slipping from the path."

    "How so?"

    "It started out slow." She said, eyes lost through the window. "Just some extra rough housing among the children. Nothing an apology wouldn''t fix." She smiled, remembering. "But, then it spread to the parents¡­ With harsh comments, and sour looks in the hallways. Pretty soon it was full blown shouting shouting and spilled mead. The community fell apart before I knew it.¡± She looked down, face solemn. ¡°No more get togethers, no more helping each other through the hard times, no more tea..." She trailed off.

    "So people just left?" Kint pressed.

    "No." She shook her head. "We''re stubborn folk here. People stayed even after the factory closed down..." She sighed. "No... people didn''t start leaving till the fights broke out, and Donnie Chimmons fell out the window." She clicked her tongue. "Nobody knows the full truth of it, but things couldn''t be the same after that."

    A depressing silence fell over the room.

    Kint put his teacup down. Its warmth gone.

    "And you think the factory had something to do with it?" Kint asked.

    "I don''t know." She sighed. "But, I''ve lived here forty years. Seven different Lords have come and gone, with not a flinch for these good people."

    There was a bit of heat in her words.

    "But once you''re Lord started up... well... "

    Another silence.

    Eventually Ms. Tanzeen settled down.

    She reached across the table, cradling a silver cup and offering it to Elsha.

    "Are you sure you don''t want any tea?" The Woman asked.

    "No." Elsha replied, not even glancing in the woman''s direction.

    "Mrs. Tanzeen." Kint said, brushing past his partner''s ill manners.

    The elderly woman sank back into her chair.

    "Can you think back to last night?" He said, trying to get things on track. "Did you hear any loud noises from the factory, or see anything suspicious in the later hours."

    She put a finger to her lips in thought.

    "No... No I don''t think so..." She responded.

    Kint nodded. He''d expected as much.

    She cocked her head to one side.

    "No..." She muttered, thinking.

    "Mrs. Tanzeen?"

    "Well..." She started again, "I did hear some sounds late last night... awful sounds." She slowed, searching her mind. "Screaming... a child screaming¡­ Awful thing."

    She shivered.

    Kint¡¯s hand moved to his coat pocket. His tobacco tin.

    "It was probably a dream, though.¡± Mrs. Tanzeen continued. ¡°My dreams have been so frightful of late."

    The aged Inspector grimed.

    He needed to end this.

    "Is there anything else you can remember?" Kint asked, moving on.

    Mrs. Tanzeen put a finger to her lips.

    "I''m sorry Inspector.¡± She shook her head. ¡°Like I said, just dreams."

    He nodded, getting to his feet. He nudged Elsha to do the same.

    "Thank you for your help Mrs. Tanzeen.¡± He said, ¡°We¡¯ll get in contact if there''s anything else."

    The woman followed them to the door as they exited.

    "I''m sorry I couldn''t be of more help." She said, "Please, have a blessed day."

    "Thank you for the tea." Kint smiled, hearing the door shut behind them.

    "Well that was a waste of time." Elsha griped, as they made their way down the stone hall. "Could she have been more boring?"

    "I thought it was interesting."

    "If you say so." She shrugged. "I''m just glad it''s over."

    "Over?"

    The question broke their conversation.

    "What''s over? What have you done?" The mayor asked, buttons bulging.

    "Fezzy! What a wonderful surprise." Elsha joked, "Couldn''t wait for a report from that lacky of yours?"

    The mayor frowned, confused.

    "Just, tell me what''s happened." He commanded, "I don''t know how you could have rusted this up since morning, but just tell me so I can deal with the blowback."

    "Things were a bit testy in the Ignatium..." Elsha commented.

    The Mayor''s eyes widened, nightmares playing out behind them.

    "It''s done, sir." Kint soothed.  "We''ve completed the Seal."

    The Mayor''s brow furrowed.

    "It''s done?" He repeated. "What do you mean ''done''?"

    "It was a simple mission." The Inspector started, "The Lord asked us to investigate a crime, but the outcome was settled. We just had to clean up the details."

    "And you did that?" He pressed, eyes intense.

    "Near enough."

    The man¡¯s eyes narrowed.

    But, eventually, he sighed. A visible weight leaving his shoulders.

    "God''s Fezzy." Elsha exclaimed. ¡°What¡¯s going on? What has you so vexed?¡±

    The Mayor glanced between them, coming to a decision.

    "I got some news this morning." he grumbled, "Duchess Alendria is on her way here from the homeland."

    ¡°The Duchess? Why?¡± Elsha asked.

    ¡°How should I know.¡± Fezzeline pouted. ¡°All I know is, that it makes finishing the seal all the more vital.¡±

    The Inspectors shared a look.

    ¡°Let me guess.¡± Kint grunted. ¡°She¡¯ll be here in three days.¡±

    The Mayor grunted in acknowledgement.

    ¡°How¡¯d you know?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s how long we had to finish the job.¡±

    The bulbous man gave a sardonic chuckle.

    "Well¡­ The Lord should be pleased." He noted, "Though, I wouldn''t expect praise for your efforts. Credit is a Blessed thing."

    Kint nodded at the old saying.

    "Oh we know." Elsha commented, "He made that quite clear."

    The Mayor chuckled.

    "I''m sure he did."

    He took a heavy breath, looking around. His layers of fat rolled, relaxing as he exhaled.

    "Now¡­¡± He huffed, patting his belly. ¡°Can you help me find the tube. The Shoud is thicker than butter here."

 Chapter 10 - An Unexpected Visitor

    The sun was set by the time Kint arrived home.

    He opened the door, relieved to feel a familiar warmth permeate his chest, soothing his aches and worries away. There was nothing else like it. A feeling just for him.

    He hung his coat, loosening his tie as he made his way to the sitting area.

    The old Inspector was heartened to see his daughter cross legged on the floor, doing her assignments, dark hair hanging like a curtain around her face.

    Kint stepped around her to check the pot cooking on the stove, lifting the lid with a nearby rag.

    "Boiled potatoes." Nessa stated, answering his unspoken question.

    He gave her a raised eyebrow, receiving an eye roll in return.

    ¡°I¡¯ve had a long day.¡±

    "I''m sure you did." He chuckled, thinking of his own day.

    The Inspector moved to sit in his old leather chair.

    Pulling out his pipe, he lazily tapped the dottle to the floor.

    "Papa, you got ash on the floor." Nassa complained.

    "It''s my floor."

    "Ugh."

    Kint smiled, humming to himself.

    He reached into his other pocket in search of his tinderbox. Pulling it out, he opened it, and froze.

    The warmth fled his body.

    There was a small object sitting in the center of the box. The thing he¡¯d pulled from the crime scene while he¡¯d been in the Silent State.

    It was a fingernail. A child¡¯s fingernail¡­

    "Papa?" Nessa called, voice far away.

    He stared at the evidence in his hand.

    He heard the voice of Mrs. Tanzeen.

    ¡®Screams¡­ awful screams in the night¡­¡¯

    "Papa, dinner''s ready." The girl called again.

    There was a ringing in his ears.

    ¡°Papa.¡±

    He closed his hand, snapping his head to look at her.

    "What is it, Ness?"

    She gave him an irritated eyebrow.

    "Dinner''s ready."

    She pointed to the table where two plates were laid out.

    "I''ll be right there." He muttered, still lost in thought.

    Why had he kept this thing? It could only muddy the waters¡­

    What had his Silent mind been thinking?

    Eventually he shook himself, dropping the nail back in the tinderbox.

    Sealing it away.

    The investigation was over. Whatever this sliver of evidence meant, it no longer had anything to do with him.

    He took his place opposite his daughter, thoughtlessly shoving a potato into his mouth.

    It wasn¡¯t very good, but he smiled anyway because Nessa had made it.

    "Papa?"

    He met her eyes.

    "I was hoping that maybe tonight we co--"

    She continued speaking, but Kint¡¯s mind had returned to the tinderbox in his pocket and the evidence within.

    Why was he so fixated on it?

    "Papa." Nessa groaned, frustrated. "Are you listening?"

    "I''m sorry Nessa. It''s just work." He said.

    The excuse was weak, the smile he gave, even weaker.

    "What were you saying?"

    She gave him a long reproachful look.

    "I asked if you could tell me another story tonight?"

    He sighed, reflexively.

    His thoughts were still churning, he didn¡¯t want to deal with another argument right now.

    Kint¡¯s teeth ground in his skull.

    "Come on, Dad." She pleaded. "I didn''t tell anyone about what you told me last night, even when I really wanted to."

    "I don¡¯t kno¨C"

    Let it go...

    The thought came to him unbidden.

    This is your place of warmth, of comfort. Leave bad things outside.

    Kint shook his head, trying to clear it.

    These thoughts are too serious...

    The words felt foreign.

    Leave them outside. Home is for family.

    Home is for Nessa¡­

    Kint ground his teeth harder. He could feel a headache coming on.

    Stop worrying. Your worries will be there tomorrow.

    A snarl grew on Kint¡¯s face.

    This wasn¡¯t him. These weren¡¯t his thoughts.

    He looked up at his daughter.

    Concentration lined her face.

    Pain lanced through his forehead.

    Focus on what''s in front of you. Tell your daughter a story and¡ª

    Kint slammed his fist down on the table. Plates and cups rattled violently.

    Nessa¡¯s face went pale.

    She¡¯d finally recognized the look in his eyes.

    Rage.

    He stared daggers at her, blood trickling from his nose.

    The warmth of the room evaporated. It became dull, lifeless.

    ¡°Why?¡± He snapped, voice hoarse. ¡°Why do you tempt me? Why do you throw it in my face? You think I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re doing?¡±

    Her eyes welled with tears.

    She was terrified, staring death in the face.

    The Inspectors teeth ground till his ears were ringing.

    Tears flowed from his daughter''s eyes, but she dared not move, sobbing silently in the chair before him.

    Eventually, his anger began to abate.

    Kint took a deep breath, and sighed.

    "I''m sorry Papa." Nessa pleaded, tears spilling down her face.

    He sighed again, trying to regain his composure.

    ¡°I know sweetheart.¡±

    Why did she keep pushing him like this?

    Couldn¡¯t they just keep things as they were?

    Thunk Thunk Thunk.

    A heavy knock thumped the door.

    Kint¡¯s eyes widened, he looked at his daughter, sharing a moment of terror.

    "Go to your room." He commanded.

    There was no argument this time. The girl bolted to her bedroom, closing the door behind her.

    Kint stood, mind racing through possibilities.

    In five years living here, the Archaedis household had never once received a visitor at night.

    His anxieties peaked, sweat beading on his forehead.

    He was afraid.

    Had they been seen?

    Had she been discovered?

    Had he been discovered?

    The knock came again, with more urgency this time.

    Should he run?

    Kint took a deep breath.

    There was no use in running. No sense in avoiding whatever this was.

    He¡¯d been caught unawares.

    Might as well face it.

    The inspector moved with purpose, hand grasping to the handle of the Stalwart Knife at his waist.

    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    The knock came again, loud and heavy. He flinched at the closeness of its power.

    What could it be?

    His past? His power? Nessa¡­

    Kint took a deep breath, turning the handle.

    The door swung wide.

    An enormous man filled the opening, his ebony skin shining in the candle light.

    It was the Acolyte from Lord Crecius''s office. The one who''d ushered them inside. Even in the chill of the evening air, his black and purple robes were without sleeves, emphasizing his well muscled physique.

    "Good evening, Inspectah." The man smiled.

    The depth of his voice hummed through Kint''s skin.

    "Acolyte." Kint nodded, unable to keep the tension from his voice. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

    "I''m sorry to intrude at this hour." The man began, "I was in the District, checking on a few things for our lord, and I thought I might stop by to introduce myself properly."

    Kint narrowed his eyes, confused.

    This man spoke with eloquence, but his accent was thick with the casual joviality of the provinces. It was like talking to a well read farmer in the homeland.

    "I brought a gift, if that helps?"

    He reached into the folds of his robes, pulling out a bottle of dark liquor. The glass was small in his massive hands.

    "It''s an honor."

    Kint accepted the bottle, seeing no other choice.

    "Please come in."

    He motioned the man inside.

    The dark Acolyte ducked his head beneath the doorframe. The Inspector followed close behind.

    He flashed a glance at his daughter''s door as they passed. It was shut fast.

    "Please, have a seat." Kint said, pointing to a chair next to his. "I''ll grab some glasses."

    The Inspector sorted through the cupboards for a suitable glass, one eye trained on his uninvited guest.

    The Acolyte moved cautiously through the sitting area, lowering himself gently to the chair. The seat creaked as his weight settled.

    Pulling the cork from the bottle, Kint was hit with an oaky aroma. He raised an eyebrow in appreciation.

    Returning to the living area, he handed the large man a glass before moving to sit across from him.

    "So..." The Inspector began. "Am I one of the interests the Lord has you checking on?"

    Before replying, the large man brought the glass to his nose, closing his eyes to enjoy its scent.

    He took a sip.

    "Ahhh." He exclaimed. "Now that''s the good stuff."

    Kint did not drink from his own glass, eyes locked on the Acolyte.

    There was an obvious intelligence to the man, an intensity that belied his casual bearing.

    "You¡¯re an interesting man, Mastah Kint.¡± The Acolyte admitted. ¡°And your vocabulary in the Ignatium has heightened your profile in the Lord''s eyes."

    The man raised a mischievous eyebrow at him.

    Kint grimaced.

    He''d known his little outburst would cause trouble, but he hadn¡¯t expected to meet that trouble so soon.

    ¡°How fucked am I?¡± He asked.

    The Acolyte grinned at his bluntness.

    "You''re in a bit of a bind." He noted. "The lack of clarity in your past hasn¡¯t helped. It makes the Lord nervous."

    Kint took a sip of the liquor, coughing as it went down.

    The Acolyte leaned forward, laughing. There was no judgment, just earnest, compassionate laughter.

    "That bad eh?" The man asked.

    He wasn¡¯t talking about the drink.

    Kint didn¡¯t respond.

    "You''re not gonna tell me anything are you." The man guessed, still grinning.

    "The past is dead and buried." Kint grumbled.

    "Fair enough." The man shrugged, the motion causing the chair to groan. ¡°But nothing stays buried in a hurricane.¡±

    ¡°I try to avoid those.¡±

    The large man chuckled, taking another sip from his glass.

    "Most people do. ¡®The best politics is no politics at all'', or so they say."

    Kint nodded, agreeing.

    He took another sip. Beginning to enjoy the warmth in his belly.

    "You know, you don''t seem like the Acolyte sort." The Inspector commented, feeling oddly familiar. ¡°How did you end up so close to the Lord?"

    The large man cocked his head in thought.

    "I''ve a past of my own, Inspectah. Probably just as dodgy as yours.¡± He admitted, ¡°¡®Suppose I just came to different conclusions."

    "How so?" Kint probed.

    "Let''s just say¡­ I''d rather guide the hand, than take a sucker punch from on high."

    Kint nodded, understanding.

    "At least you''ll see it coming." He quipped.

    The large man burst into laughter. It was a sonorous laugh, filling the whole room. Hearing it, even Kint let out a few chuckles.

    "Damn..." The Acolyte exclaimed, laughter cooling. "I like you Kint."

    The Inspector found himself agreeing with the sentiment. There was something about this man. A charisma. It was so familiar.

    It didn¡¯t last, however.

    The dark man¡¯s smile turned down to a frown.

    "Damn." He repeated, this time in frustration.

    Kint''s smile fell as the tone changed.

    "I''m sorry, Kint.¡± The man started, looking at his feet. ¡°But, I''m not here for a laugh and a drink. I''m here to deliver a message."

    "Alright..." Kint replied.

    He¡¯d suspected as much, but his worries had been lost in their conversation.

    "I¡¯m to relay a story to you." The large man continued, hesitant.

    Kint took a deep breath.

    His expression turned to stone, as he set down his glass.

    The Acolyte did the same.

    "Get on with it." The Inspector grumbled.

    "Are you familiar with Caligore Inkhold?" The man asked.

    "Who isn''t? He''s got a statue in every Inkhold district."

    "Right." The man nodded, solemn. "And do you know why he¡¯s famous?"

    "Greatest politician since Seevert.¡± Kint recited. ¡°Negotiated the First Great Expansion, and ushered in the Second Age."

    The Acolyte nodded.

    "Would it surprise you,¡± He muttered. ¡°If the Apostle had another deed... a secret one?"

    "No." Kint said flatly.

    The large man gave a half chuckle.

    "Fair enough."

    The cool joviality from earlier was gone.

    "These are open secrets among the Families, but kept well hidden from Kadenites." He prefaced.

    "The First Great Expansion was not a negotiated settlement with Ingoria, it was a war. There were no agreements, just conquest and genocide."

    The man paused, judging Kint''s response.

    There was none. The Inspector wasn¡¯t surprised at all. He¡¯d seen the underbelly of this society. He knew its nature.

    "Caligore was known as a great politician, not because he made peace with other nations, but because he made peace among the Apostles, allowing them to acheive goals that were unthinkable in times before. Caligore Inkhold was as good as King for over two decades. He achieved one goal after the next, bringing prosperity to the Noveriat. But, toward the end of his life, he wanted more. He wanted to leave a greater mark. To grow the Prophet''s reach... He wanted war with the Anjiri."

    Kint grimaced.

    The Noveriat had been going to war with the Anjiri since the Prophet¡¯s death in their lands. In fact, it had happened so frequently, that the term ¡®going to war¡¯ had become a popular idiom for ¡®picking an unwinnable fight.¡¯

    The Acolyte wet his lips.

    "All of the Apostles agreed with his plans... All except one... The Sixth Apostle..."

    Kint''s ears perked up. This was new to him.

    The Deeds of Sixth Apostles, outside of Koresh, were church secrets, rarely told.

    Another reason so few Kadenites believed the post ever existed.

    ¡°Caligore worked for years to convince him. Trying every justification from religion, to economics, to revenge. But the Sixth would not be swayed. He had seen the results of Caligore¡¯s previous expeditions, seen how long it had taken for the colonized lands to recover. He would sponsor violence no more.¡±

    Kint¡¯s eyes narrowed. Where was this going?

    ¡°Eventually, the Inkhold Apostle admitted defeat. Declaring in the halls of the Heladon that the Sixth Apostle was the one man he could not sway with his legendary words¡­ so instead, he would slay him with the sword.¡±

    The Inspector gripped tight to the arms of his chair. He couldn¡¯t help it.

    Was this really happening?

    Was this man really telling him this?

    This story, this information¡­ it would cut to the core of any Kadenite.

    "Caligore, in his pride and fear of death, decided that his greatest deed would not be a war of conquest, but a civil war. A war to change the structure of the greatest empire ever forged. That night, as he spoke his final words to the Heledon, the armies of the other four families set out to destroy the Sixth Apostle and all his Brothers."

    The man glanced at Kint, face solemn.

    ¡°They succeeded.¡±

    Kint was cold, emotionless.

    "You know what this means, yes?"

    The Inspectors face was a stone.

    He did not respond.

    ¡°To change the structure of our society, to pull off such a coup, Caligore needed to bring all three branches under his wing. The Blessed Apostles, The Church, and the Gods themselves¡­¡±

    The old Inspector sat, stunned.

    The Brotherhood was gone¡­

    Killed by the Apostles¡­

    Killed by the Church of the Prophet¡­

    Killed by the Gods themselves¡­

    What was an average man to do, when the whole world was stacked against them?

    Kint huffed a laugh.

    ¡°Just another Kadenite in Kaden City.¡± He muttered.

    ¡°So you understand?¡± The Acolyte asked.

    The Inspector looked up at the man, sneering.

    The large man frowned, face full of sorrow.

    ¡°There is no one coming to save you, Mastah Kint. No one to punish the Apostles for their misdeeds. There is only you, with all the powers of the Noveriat set to crush you should you oppose them.¡±

    Silence fell, both men festering in the stillness, the stench of this story.

    ¡°Are we done?¡± Kint asked, irritated.

    The Acolyte sighed, nodding.

    "I''m sorry, Inspectah. I truly am." He grimaced. "This is the Lord¡¯s will. Not mine."

    Kint gave the Acolyte a hard stare.

    He wasn''t angry with this man, the messenger. But the message had struck a nerve.

    "Get out." He snapped, voice cold.

    The towering man did not hesitate, standing smoothly.

    "I am sorry, Kint."

    "Out."

    The Inspector ground his teeth, lips twitching with emotion.

    He sat still in his seat until he heard the door close.

    He shook his head. Ears ringing with anger.

    Why had they done this?

    He knew the score, every Kadenite did¡­

    So why spell it out?

    After several minutes, he was shaken from his stupor by a muffled voice.

    "Papa..." His daughter whispered.

    Kint took a breath, hoisting himself from his chair.

    ¡°Back to bed, Sweetheart. I¡¯ll be there in a minute.¡±

    He grabbed the two glasses bringing them up to the kitchen counter.

    Then moved to his daughter''s room.

    "Nessa?" He whispered, voice hoarse. "Are you ok?"

    "Yeah..." She responded. "Can you come in?"

    Kint opened the door wide. Where last night he felt he needed the respite of sleep, now he was in need of her warmth.

    But it was not there.

    He sat on the edge of her bed.

    She had the sheets pulled up to cover everything but her face, ready to hide.

    He grimaced.

    Was she so scared of him, now?

    "Papa..." She began, eyes shining with emotion. "Is what that man said true?"

    Kint furrowed his brow, concerned.

    "You heard all that?" He asked.

    "No."

    He raised an eyebrow.

    "Parts..." She adjusted.

    "I don''t know sweetie¡­¡± Kint sighed, ¡°I think he might have just been trying to scare us?"

    "But he works for the Lord, right?" She questioned, "So why would he want to scare us?"

    "Well..."

    He bit his lip.

    What lie would he tell this time?

    "Sometimes when people are scared, they try to make other people scared.¡± He explained. ¡°So they do their jobs better."

    Her small brow furrowed.

    "That''s silly." She decided.

    "Yes it is." He smiled. "But, my work for the Lord is easy stuff. So they just want to make sure I don¡¯t slack off."

    She thought about it, mulling over his response.

    He wished so badly to know the thoughts behind those dark eyes. But, she was as mysterious as his Wife had been.

    "Papa..." She said, locking her eyes with his. "Will you protect me? If they come."

    The words took him by surprise. They were so full of meaning. So full of fear and tension.

    There was only one answer.

    He knew what she needed to hear.

    Knew what he should say.

    But¡­

    He paused.

    Crimson eyes overwrote his thought, a bright predatory smile filling his vision. The wretched vision of his smiling daughter, pulling secrets from his head.

    He shuddered, eyes coming back into focus.

    His breath caught.

    Her face¡­ horrified, broken¡­ Betrayed.

    She¡¯d seen him hesitate.

    There was only one answer, and he hadn¡¯t given it.

    "No-- of course." He pleaded. "Of course I''ll protect you sweetheart."

    He tried to correct it, but the damage was done.

    She''d seen him struggle...

    Nessa wrapped herself in blankets, hiding... from him.

    He reached out to grab her, to hold her, comfort her¡­

    But his hand froze, then pulled away.

    There was nothing he could do.

    He¡¯d done enough¡­

    He¡¯d hesitated¡­

    He could not make it right¡­ not tonight.

    Maybe not ever¡­

    The Inspector stood making solemn steps toward the door, flinching as it closed shut behind him.

 Chapter 11 - Overseer

    Shel Darint was giddy as he climbed the stairs into the 8th Doene District.

    The Shroud was sparse and the birds were chirping.

    There was so much color, so much life here, nothing like where he lived.

    Of course, he was a bit biased, as this was the first time he¡¯d ever left the 10th.

    The boy took a deep breath of sweet morning air. He smiled.

    The world felt fresh. Everything was new. Everything was different. Everything was better.

    Because today, Shel started his new job. The one he''d been dreaming of his whole life.

    Today, he began his life as an Overseer.

    The young man pulled out a handkerchief, polishing the gold sigil pinned to his breast. The five branched stalwart tree, a symbol of the Apostles Chosen, group separate from any one Family, administered by all, untainted by politics. The unseen foundation that kept the Noveriat afloat. The Overseers.

    Ever since he¡¯d spotted his first one, a man dressed in purest white driving their wheat crop to the city center on a riverboat, Shel had started seeing them everywhere. Driving the Tube, navigating the city''s riverways, cleaning the streets in the early morning, and on and on. Overseer¡¯s were everywhere in Kaden City, but most people never gave them a second glance.

    For one such as Shel, a man who wanted to be of use, to have his hands calloused by humble labor, it was the perfect job.

    The only problem was, Shel had no idea what that job was.

    Once he¡¯d been accepted, his pin had arrived by courier with a short note.

    Be at the 8th Doene District, House 8C, Merchant¡¯s Quarter, by 5am tomorrow. Don¡¯t be late.

    There was no preamble, no congratulations. Just the note.

    While concerning, the mystery was also exciting. Shel had always wanted one of the secret jobs, with consequential tasks. The ones not talked about in public places. He¡¯d always imagined that the Overseer¡¯s with those positions were the ones making the greatest difference in the world. The ones of most use.

    Shel strode with confidence across foreign stones, knowing that he was about to become one of those most effective men.

    His smile widened.

    The sky was a light gray, the sun on its way to break the horizon. The streets were empty, but for a thin veil of mist.

    Shel turned a corner, finally spotting his destination.

    A shadowy horse and carriage stood in front of a row of white brick apartments. Three people loitered beside it. A park filled with lush green grass sprawled on the opposite side.

    Shel approached, eyeing the three Overseer¡¯s curiously. Two men and a woman.

    They wore one piece suits made of a slick black material that covered their bodies.

    The woman stepped forward.

    "You Shel?" She asked.

    She had auburn hair and looked about ten years his senior.

    "Yes, Ma''am." Shel replied, straightening his shoulders.

    "You''re late Shel." She said, flatly.

    She shoved a black suit into his gut.

    "Put this on."

    Shel let out an ''oof'' of surprise as the dark material hit his gut.

    He wanted to ask a question, but the woman had returned to her colleagues.

    The trio stared at him, waiting, cigarettes glowing in the drifting Shroud.

    Shel examined the smooth material of the suit. He flipped it over, feeling buttons on the back.

    He shrugged, putting his legs inside, then his arms.

    The stern woman approached and began buttoning the back.

    "You''ve been assigned to the 14th Erasure Crew." She stated.

    Shel felt his fingers slide neatly into the gloved ends of his sleeves as the Overseer pulled the suit tight.

    "I''m Karson." She continued, "That''s Lovitt and Feen."

    She pointed at the two men.

    Their stone faces dampened Shel''s mood.

    "Erasure Crews..."

    Karson buttoned the top button.

    "Are an important part of enforcing the Prophet''s Fifth Tenet."

    "Fifth Tenet..." Shel whispered, confused.

    Karson turned him by the shoulders to face her.

    "Yes..." She continued. "The Dowsers, like Keen over there,"

    The woman pointed to the carriage.

    "Identify the Rotten."

    Shel couldn''t see who she was pointing to, but didn¡¯t have time to ask.

    "Their partners, The Enforcers, ''Enforce'' the Prophet''s final wish.¡±

    She took a pull from her cigarette.

    ¡°and we, ''The Erasers'', clean up the mess before anyone knows it was there."

    Karson moved to the carriage, pulling out three bags made of the same dark material as the suits.

    She handed them to her partners.

    "Just three today." She muttered.

    The two men nodded, grabbing the bags and heading into the apartment.

    "Since it¡¯s your first day, we''re not gonna have you on bag duty." She assured him, reaching into the back of the carriage again. "But you are gonna scrub."

    She held out a large bucket filled with brown washcloths, and a box of white powder.

    "Come on." She said, making her way to the apartment door.

    "Wait..." Shel muttered, confused.

    Erasure Crew? Scrub duty? He¡¯d never heard of these jobs.

    "Can¡¯t.¡± She replied, opening the door. ¡°We¡¯re behind already.¡±

    Shel moved to the door, anxiety spiking.

    The Fifth Tenet? What was going on here? Erasure Crews? What was this?

    As he reached the door, the smell of sulfur hit his nostrils.

    He froze, fear lancing through him.

    That smell¡­

    It couldn¡¯t be anything good¡­

    Karson turned to look at him, eyes expectant.

    ¡°Are you coming, Overseer?¡±

    The words were full of meaning. An indictment, a challenge.

    This is what he¡¯d worked for. This is what he¡¯d wanted.

    Was Shel Darint going to give up on his first day?

    The boy gritted his teeth, fists clenching.

    He pushed through the fear and into the apartment.

    It was dark. No light coming from inside or out. The walls were lined with art, expensive furniture in every corner.

    The stench grew thicker as they moved.

    The Overseers turned down a dark hall, boots echoing.

    Shel heard muffled laughter from a room at the end.

    Fear stiffened his legs, every step was an effort. His skin was slick with sweat, blood pumping in his ears.

    This was it.

    Karson stopped in front of the door.

    "Stop laughing." She ordered.

    The room grew quiet.

    "Come on, Kars." A man whispered.

    "No buts." She chided.

    The woman turned to Shel, gesturing him inside.

    The young Overseer swallowed.

    Stepping forward, he turned the corner.

    Two men knelt in the center of the room, long bags were unfurled on the floor before them. Behind them was a bed with lavender sheets.

    Shel took a shuddering breath.

    Blood was flecked across white walls, smoke stains spread across the ceiling.

    He clinched his shaking hands. Drawing his eyes back to what he¡¯d been ignoring.

    Three dark shapes were affixed in the center of the room. The men were pulling them apart. Charred skin crackled as they tore the bodies from each other''s arms.

    Two tall decimated bodies¡­ with a little on in between.

    Sulfur, death, rotting flesh¡­ The sensations hit him like a ton of bricks.

    He felt sick. Blood drained from his face.

    "He''s gonna spew." One of the men grinned.

    ¡°What?¡± The other asked, tearing a parent from its child.

    The body finally came free, but lost an arm in the process.

    Congealed blood spattered to the floor.

    ¡°God¡¯s blasted¡­¡±

    Shel didn¡¯t hear the rest of the curse.

    He was out the door, sprinting down the hall, dodging through the sitting room, stumbling over chairs.

    He made it outside, but did not stop, running past the dark carriage.

    The boy reached a wooden fence, leaning over it.

    He spewed.

    His hands gripped the rail as chunks of last night''s stew escaped his stomach, landing in the bright green grass.

    He sucked in air, spewing again.

    It took several minutes for his stomach and nerves to calm. Blood pressure falling, breath coming easier.

    What was that?

    How could they do that?

    The child¡­

    ¡°Prophet help me¡­¡± He whispered.

    His mind raced.

    He felt tears welling in his eyes.

    Was this the Fifth?

    Was this the Prophet¡¯s wish? Truly?

    Was this the life of an Overseer?

    "First day?"

    A deep voice cut through the hurricane in his mind.

    Shel¡¯s eyes shifted, surprised.

    A tall man with short cropped black hair, and a sharp face sat on the fence beside him.

    He stared at Shel, eyes filled with a deep intensity.

    The man wore a well pressed suit and tie, shoes shined like mirrors. He cut a striking figure in the morning fog.

    "Here." The man said, holding out his pipe. "It helps with the smell."

    Shel took the pipe, staring at it.

    The memory of sulfur made him want to spew again.

    He quickly stuffed the pipe in his mouth, taking a heavy pull.

    Harsh smoke hit his lungs, forcing him to cough.

    The older man was unfazed.

    Shel grimaced. But, he couldn¡¯t argue with the results.

    The taste of the leaf had nullified that awful smell.

    He handed the pipe back, still coughing.

    Wiping his mouth, the boy¡¯s cheeks reddened as he realized he¡¯d taken a puff from the pipe with a mouth full of last night''s dinner.

    The stern man didn¡¯t seem to care, however, as he took a large puff of his own.

    A tense silence fell over the two men as the fog drifted across the bright green lawn before them.

    "It''s a terrible thing, the Fifth¡­¡± The smoker said.

    He turned, eyes meeting Shel¡¯s own.

    "No man should have to stand in a room like that¡­ See those types of things." He looked at Shell with sympathy. "But men are needed all the same... No way around it..."

    "I..." Shel hesitated, still unsure of his own thoughts. "There¡¯s no other way?"

    Another pause.

    The older man observed him, eyes narrowing.

    "You a believer?"

    Shel nodded.

    "''Sin must be cleansed or ruin will follow.''¡± The man recited. ¡°The Prophet''s words are clear."

    "I know... I just..." Shel paused, nausea returning.

    He collected himself.

    "Does it have to be this way?"

    The older man grimaced, taking another long puff.

    "This way, that way..." He grumbled. "Killing is never clean, son. But it is necessary."

    "But how..." Shel asked, drifting off.

    He didn¡¯t know exactly what his question was. It just felt wrong. All of it.

    "What could they have done? What could they have possibly done to deserve¡­ that?¡± He pointed toward the apartment door.

    He looked back at the smoking man, and frowned. There was an unexpected anger in his eyes.

    "Does it matter?"

    The man¡¯s voice was cold, hard.

    Shel flinched at the intensity of it.

    He felt like a child under those eyes.

    "Shouldn''t it?" He asked, voice cracking under the pressure.

    The man¡¯s frown deepened, annoyed.

    "No."

    Shel opened his mouth to respond, but no words would come.

    "The rot is real, son..." The man continued. "I''ve seen it... I''ve seen it work in ways that would stretch your soul to imagine."

    The smoker''s gaze burrowed into him. Searing him with its heat.

    "I don''t know that every death is deserved. I don''t know if all the Rotten were sinners to the core."

    His words were slow, etched in stone.

    "But, I know that we live in the most peaceful, and prosperous society in history. A society designed by a Prophet blessed with divine providence. A society upheld by his chosen Apostles, and watched over by Gods.¡±

    The man paused, turning to stare out over the misty park, toward the Stalwart Tree beyond.

    "If dark deeds must be done beneath the Shroud, for society to persist...Then I will do these things, and have faith that they are just."

    He paused again, gazing into Shel''s soul.

    "That¡¯s what it is to be an Overseer."

    Silence settled over the two men.

    Shel could hear his breath through his chest in the stillness.

    The words had been cold, and hard, and necessary.

    The boy nodded.

    This man¡­ his words made sense.

    Shel had asked for this. He¡¯d wanted to be relied upon to do the things that others couldn¡¯t, the things that kept the Noveriet running. This was one of those things. One of the most important.

    His first experience had shaken him to be sure. But this is what he¡¯d asked for. What he¡¯d been chosen for. He wasn¡¯t going to run away from it.

    He was an Overseer.

    The boy hardened his heart.

    "Come on, Shel." Karson called from behind him. "We don''t have time for you to find your sea legs."

    He took a deep breath.

    The statuesque Dowser, still stared out over the last vestiges of the fog.

    "Thank you for the smoke... and the words.¡±

    He held out a hand.

    ¡°I''m Shel. You''re... Keen. Right?"

    The older man gave a smile that was almost warm.

    He took the hand.

    "Call me Kint."

    Shel smiled.

    "It was nice to meet you Kint. Maybe I''ll see you around."

    "You will." He replied.

    The Overseer turned to go, but Kint grabbed his arm.

    ¡°Find a place to put the guilt, son.¡± The Dowser advised. ¡°The Prophet, the Gods¡­ give it to somebody else. No man can take all that.¡±

    The boy frowned. Kint¡¯s final words souring the exchange.

    Doubts began to itch at him again.

    He gritted his teeth.

    Shel would do his job.

    He was an Overseer now.

    <hr>

    Shel followed Karson back into the bedroom.

    The bodies were gone.

    The other Overseer¡¯s had already moved them to the carriage and left the scene.

    Karson drew his attention to the buckets they¡¯d carried in earlier, now filled with water.

    ¡°We¡¯re on scrubbing duty.¡± She explained. ¡°Our job is to remove the skin and the smell.¡±

    She pointed to the boxes of powder on the floor.

    ¡°Start spreading that powder over the remains. It¡¯ll help with the smell, and get the sticky things loosened up.¡±

    She gestured to the black and crimson flakes of hardened skin on the floor.

    ¡°Then we¡¯ll get to scrubbin¡¯¡±

    Shel grimaced, stealing himself.

    They began spreading the powder, starting with the walls, then moving to the charred flesh on the floor.

    After that, the scrubbing began.

    Again they started on the walls.

    It was a simple task, but a strenuous one.

    ¡°Now the tough part.¡± Karson quipped.

    Shel stared at the charred flesh stuck to the floor. It wasn¡¯t completely covered in powder, a bit of red and pink showing beneath the black and white.

    The young overseer dropped to his knees abruptly, putting his head into a bucket.

    He spewed.

    Karson moved casually, grabbing another bucket.

    She sighed.

    ¡°Steel yourself boy.¡± She said. ¡°There¡¯s just no easy way to scrape skin off a floor.¡±

    Shel spewed again.

    Karson snorted a laugh, moving to fill another bucket.

    They went through three more buckets before they were done. Shel only spewed in one more.

    They left the room smelling of lime. The ring of char was the only evidence of Rot.

    Apparently the Restoration Crews would get the rest.

    The two Overseers placed their tools in the carriage, removing the soiled suits.

    He needed Karson''s help to get his off. It was covered in ash, blood, and powdered Lime.

    Shel kicked the fabric away once it was peeled free.

    Closing his eyes, he took a breath, taking stock.

    He¡¯d expected to feel cleaner, and he did. But¡­

    The boy searched, examining his body for any remnants of ash, any specks of sin.

    There was none.

    The young Overseer grimaced.

    His skin felt different. Tainted. Like there was something that he couldn¡¯t wash away.

    A gentle hand touched his shoulder.

    "Come on." Karson said, gesturing to the two seats at the head of the carriage. "Let''s take this back to The Overwatch."

    ¡°What''s The Overwatch?" He asked.

    The Overseer smiled, red hair falling gently across her face.

    "You''ll see."

    <hr>

    Their horse guided them with sure steps to the nearest riverway, where a boat met them.

    The carriage trundled onto the vessel, which carried them deeper into Kaden City.

    Karson didn¡¯t speak on the journey, allowing him to decompress.

    After an hour, the morning sun was extinguished as they entered The Shade.

    The boat slowed to a stop at the end of an empty alleyway.

    The overseers exited with their carriage, rolling onto the main thoroughfare.

    Loud music and revelry greeted them as they traveled the main roads of The Shade. Shel paid it no mind, lost in the nightmare of the morning.

    Karson steered them deftly onto side streets, mapping a complicated path through the District.

    The boy¡¯s brow furrowed as they made another turn.

    Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

    The road was a dead end.

    A towering gray wall stood before them, rising several stories into the air. As they drew nearer, a large section of the facade began to slide upward, revealing dark space behind.

    They moved through the dark doorway.

    The young Overseer¡¯s eyes widened.

    Karson grinned at his bafflement.

    "Here we are."

    The space was enormous. Over a mile long and five stories high.

    They parked the carriage in a row of dozens of others. Entrances to the massive lot surrounded them on all sides, presumably leading to similar alleys to the one they¡¯d used. There was even a riverway for boats to enter.

    They hopped from their seats and a young man moved to take the reins.

    Karson led them down a cobbled walkway.

    A massive stone wall rose before them. It covered the whole mile width of the building, and all of five stories. Vast tapestries depicting the lives of Overseers covered the facade. In the center, was a golden pentagon with the Five Branched Stalwart tree. Below it, in giant letters, the word ¡®Overwatch¡¯ glowed.

    They moved down the walkway passing sport fields, and sparring circles, even a full sized running track. Men and women in athletic uniforms fought and competed at every station.

    "What is this place?" Shel muttered.

    Karson smiled, gesturing to a wooden door set into the massive wall.

    "Wait till you see the inside." She said, opening them wide.

    They entered into a large sitting area, where Overseers sat smoking, reading, or enjoying a cup of coffee. On the other side of the room was a receptionist, hundreds of keys hanging on the wall behind him.

    The neatly dressed man moved to greet them, an Overseer¡¯s sigil on his breast.

    "Good morning, Ms. Welst.¡± He started, in an upper class accent. ¡°I trust your work was not too draining?"

    "Nothing too bad." Karson nodded.

    Shel frowned, remembering the work.

    "I was just breaking in our Rookie here." She commented, gesturing to him.

    "Ahhh, Mr. Darint. Welcome The Order.¡± He bowed. ¡°It''s good to have you on board."

    Shel tried to muster a smile, but it was half-hearted.

    The receptionist didn¡¯t take offense.

    "Will you be staying with us this evening?" He asked.

    ¡°No. I¡¯m sorry¡­¡± The boy muttered, uncertain. ¡°I have to get home.¡±

    ¡°Ahh.¡± The man nodded, understanding. ¡°Of course. Are you married?¡±

    ¡°Engaged¡­¡± Shel choked out.

    He¡¯d forgotten about Heela.

    How could he tell her¡­

    Right¡­ He couldn¡¯t¡­

    ¡°Well, congratulations.¡± The Overseer bowed again. "What a wonderful thing."

    There was an odd tone to the man''s voice.

    It made Shel uncomfortable.

    "I''m going to show him The Hall, Heret." Karson said, grabbing Shel by the arm.

    ¡°Of course.¡± The Overseer nodded, ¡°Please, enjoy yourselves.¡±

    Karson pulled her young rookie toward a small circular platform at the back of the room. An Overseer stood at its center, hand over a small console.

    "The Hall." Karson stated.

    The Overseer nodded, closing his eyes in concentration. A moment later the Vine was lifting up into darkness.

    They passed through two floors on their way, a mess hall and a smoke-filled game room, both full of Overseers.

    Yellow light from crystal chandeliers washed over them as they rose into The Hall.

    Before Shel''s eyes could adjust, the lift attendant placed his hand on the glass enclosure, causing the barrier to slide away.

    The sounds of drink and dance washed over them, followed by the savory smell of tobacco. Karson pulled Shel out the door, dragging him into a cacophony of movement and laughter.

    The drinking hall extended as far as he could see.

    Around them were hundreds of sturdy wooden tables and chairs, some long and others circular. The room was half full, even at this hour.

    Every Overseer present was full of energy. Partying with abandon.

    Karson led Shel through the maze of tables, to a round one next to a thick pillar.

    Lovitt and Feen were already seated.

    "Hello boys." Karson said, joining them.

    She gestured for Shel to do the same.

    "How many deep are we?" She asked, smiling.

    The two men shared a look.

    "We''ve only ordered one." Lovitt started, "But, you see, we ordered a round for the crew... and you weren''t here... so we ended up drinking two ."

    "That means they¡¯ve been here about five minutes." Karson grinned.

    "Three!" Feen joked, drawing laughs around the table.

    "Don''t worry though, Sheila''s on her way with another." Lovitt assured them.

    "Shiela?"

    Karson gave him a knowing look.

    "She gets off in an hour..." Lovitt winked.

    "I''m sure she does." Karson chuckled.

    Shel didn''t laugh, or even smile.

    He was put off by this place, the atmosphere, the people. Desperation was thick in the air.

    It was three hours till noon, and people were drinking like the world was ending.

    "What about you, rookie?" Lovitt asked.

    Shel looked up, dazed.

    "Ya got love in your life?" He asked.

    "I-- "

    "He''s engaged." Karson cut in.

    There was an odd tone to her voice.

    The three Overseer''s shared a look.

    Before Shel could ask about it, a dark haired waitress arrived with a tray of four glass pints.

    "allo, Karry." The young woman greeted, placing a glass in front of each of them. "You doin'' ok? Keepin'' these louts in orda?"

    She knocked a large hip into Lovitt''s shoulder as she spoke.

    "Who? These two?" Karson chirped. "They''re sweethearts, you know that."

    The two women shared a knowing look.

    "Oh, I''m ok. Thank you." Shel said, trying to return the glass that had been placed in front of him.

    "Just leave it, Sheila.¡± Lovitt soothed, ¡°We''ll take care of it."

    "I''m sure you will." The waitress grinned, turning to leave.

    "Alright Gents." Karson said, raising a glass.

    The others did the same, clinking their glasses together and drinking deep. With a few seconds of hearty gulps, their drinks were half done.

    Karson reached into her pocket, pulling out a silver cigarette tin. She opened it, placing it on the table. Each Overseer plucked a cigarette for themselves.

    The Redheaded Overseer offered one to Shel.

    "No." He hesitated, "I don''t smoke."

    The three Erasers shared another look.

    "He doesn''t drink, he doesn''t smoke." Lovitt muttered.

    "He''s got a Fiance." Feen added, skeptical.

    "Are you sure he''s an Overseer, Karry?" Lovitt asked, raising an eyebrow.

    "Just ¡®cause he doesn''t live like a mongrel, doesn''t mean he''s any less an Overseer." She chided.

    The woman placed a comforting hand on Shel''s shoulder.

    "Besides, I seem to remember you had a wife when I first met you, Feen." Karson poked.

    The sickly man leaned back, raising his hands in acquiescence.

    "I didn''t say nothin''." He muttered. "What did I say?"

    "Well..." Shel broke in. "I did have a bit of a smoke this morning."

    There was a silence.

    Then a slow smile crawled across Lovitt''s face. The man wagged a knowing finger in Shel''s direction.

    "There''s hope for you yet." He chuckled, taking another swig.

    "See." Feen muttered, "What did I say? I knew the boy was alright."

    "It wasn''t too bad." Shel continued, trying to fit in. "That Dowser, Kint, gave me a few puffs. He seems like a good guy."

    At the mention of the Dowser''s name, the mood soured.

    "Keen..." Lovitt spat. "The holy one."

    "The holiest." Feen muttered, bile on his lips.

    Shel frowned.

    "I don''t understand." He questioned. "Do we not like him?"

    "It''s not that." Karson placated, pausing for a moment to think.

    "It''s just¡­ it''s hard to like someone you only see on your worst days."

    "Oh... " The rookie replied. "So, he doesn''t come here, then?"

    "No." Karson shook her head. "Nobody knows where he lives or what he does on the outside."

    "His partner comes in sometimes." Lovitt quipped, "Isn''t that right, Boss?"

    "True enough." She replied, a little color entering her cheeks.

    "So..." Shel started, hesitant. "Is he always there? Are we assigned to him... or something."

    "No, not always." She said, "Keen just¡­ likes to linger. We rarely see the other Enforcer Crews."

    "He''s also the most... prolific." Lovitt added, "From what we hear."

    The boy grimaced at the word.

    "And... is it always...families?"

    He glanced around the table to find everyone staring into their pints.

    "Always families..." Karson answered, head bowed. "But you¡¯ll never know them. They make sure of it.¡±

    ¡°But you could figure it out, right?¡± Shel commented. ¡°I mean, it shouldn¡¯t be that hard?¡±

    She met his eyes with a hard stare.

    ¡°Why? Why would you want to do that? Are you sick or something?¡±

    The boy shook his head vigorously.

    ¡°No, I just¡­ Don¡¯t you want to know what they did?¡±

    ¡°Fuckin¡¯ God¡¯s, Karry.¡± Lovitt muttered. ¡°Can you shut ¡®im up already.¡±

    She raised a hand to placate the man.

    ¡°Shel¡­ I will tell you what my first Executive told me.¡±

    She met his gaze with a foreboding stare.

    ¡°If you search for Sin, you will find it, and when you do, you invite it in.¡±

    The other Overseers at the table nodded.

    Lovitt leaned forward.

    ¡°Now let me tell you what the old X told me. ¡®Do the job, drink the ale, and never tell a soul.¡¯"

    ¡°Never tell a soul.¡± The Others repeated.

    The young Overseer looked around. A thousand thoughts racing through his mind.

    It was all so surreal. The singing, the dancing, the drinking, the smiles, and the laughter.

    How could everything seem so normal? So happy?

    They all knew what was going on. What the undergirders of Noveriat looked like.

    How could they just go on¡­ live their lives¡­ exist?

    Shel reached out, frantically grabbing a glass from the table, taking down gulps after gulp, not even tasting it as it poured down his throat, until the vessel was empty.

    The boy took great heaving breaths of air, and slowly, a smile bloomed on his face.

    The spiraling thoughts, the rambling sorrows, the images of the day. They were gone. Shoved to the back of his mind and numbed like laudanum.

    "Anybody up for another." The young Overseer asked, looking into the pensive eyes of his colleagues.

    "One of us, indeed." Lovitt said, raising his glass and drinking it down.

    <hr>

    Shel returned home late that night. Karson helping him to the door.

    Saying a slurred goodbye, he moved inside, stumbling his way down the hall to the bedroom.

    He felt numb, and he was glad of it. There were worse things to feel.

    He stripped down clumsily, then moved to the bed.

    There was a woman there. His fianc¨¦, Heela. Her blonde hair glistened, under the moon''s glow.

    She was beautiful. Peaceful.

    Any other night, the sight of her ethereal silhouette would bring him joy¡­

    But not this time. This time, it brought pain.

    The feeling followed him, as he crawled into bed. He turned away from her, screwing his eyes shut, willing himself to sleep.

    The faster he could find the void of sleep, the faster he could escape these boiling anxieties.

    Shel grimaced, feeling a rustle of sheets beside him

    "How was your day?" Heela whispered, half asleep.

    "Fine." He replied, cringing.

    He¡¯d never lied to her before.

    "Was it everything you hoped for?" She asked, voice sweet.

    "I..."

    How could he answer that?

    "I can''t tell you."

    "Hmm." She smiled.

    She knew what kind of job he had wanted. The kind of job you couldn''t talk about.

    She was happy for him.

    It tore at his heart.

    She rolled up against his back.

    ¡°I''m so proud of you." She whispered, folding him in her arms. Her fingers pressed against his chest, pushing her love into his body.

    He couldn¡¯t feel it.

    He rejected it.

    He felt cold.

    All he could see was charred corpses in his mind... and the smell... the sulfurous smell...

    She held him tighter.

    Shel flinched.

    He slept poorly that night.

    How could he ever sleep again?

    <hr>

    The days passed like life times, his mind lingering on the vivid sensations of his first erasure.

    Heela left him alone, giving him space.

    She knew something was wrong, but she never asked. She knew he couldn¡¯t say.

    Shel could see that his mood was hurting her, though. He could see her frustration at not knowing how to help.

    The tension had built to a crescendo when the young Overseer got a missive from the Order.

    In truth, he was relieved to get it.

    After days of reliving his first job, Shel had concluded a new one might be good for him. It might dull the pain of the first, make it less horrific in relative terms, paper over the pain.

    It was a dumb hope, but hope for a future less dark was better than the nightmare of now.

    He could feel Heela''s anxious eyes on his back as he left for the Tube.

    He did not know how to deal with her. How to talk to her. They''d been in love since they were kids, inseparable for over a decade¡­ Now the space between them grew with every hour.

    The Tube door slid shut, and Shel was met with blessed silence.

    The world seemed far away, and for the next hour, his life was bliss.

    Eventually his exit came and the young Overseer was forced to step back into reality.

    The fear returned. The dread returned.

    He''d hoped to see Dowser Kint again as he approached the job site. But no such luck. Just the black carriage sitting on Shrouded gray streets.

    Feen tossed him something as he arrived. He caught it, examining the slick fabric in his hands.

    He was on bag duty¡­

    ¡°Best to do it early.¡± Karson advised. ¡°Get it out of the way.¡±

    "I''ll give you a hint.¡± Lovitt grinned, ¡°It''s always rotten."

    It was a family of five.

    Messy.

    The bodies strewn across three rooms. Blood coated the small apartment.

    "Bodies is the easy job today." Feen commented.

    It wasn''t.

    There were no easy jobs today.

    It took half an hour to peel the corpses off the floor. They came apart like dried clay. Karson placed a bucket beside him to catch the spew.

    Shel considered sleeping at the Overwatch that night, dreading Heela''s touch.

    He was ashamed.

    She could not know what now she held in those innocent arms. He could not tell her.

    At Karson''s urging, he went home. He laid down with his fiance, and, at her insistence, he tried to love her¡­

    He couldn''t. The morning''s bodies still fresh in his mind.

    She held him close.

    "It''s okay." She soothed.

    The shame was unbearable.

    He lay there, eyes wide, afraid to blink.

    That shame, it stayed with him, joining the pain as a barrier between them.

    Heela knew something was wrong. She knew he was hurting, she felt his pain.

    The morning after his fourth job, Heela made a decision. She would no longer watch quietly as he deteriorated. She would do something.

    They were going out.

    From that day, in between missives, Heela took him places. Restaurants, parks, meetings with family and friends.

    It didn¡¯t matter.

    The distance was there. The barrier was there, growing with each awkward encounter, each uncomfortable exchange with the people he once knew.

    He knew what she was doing, and he went along because he loved her still. But everything she tried only worked to heighten his shame.

    He saw Kint the Dowser several times in those painful months. They would talk and Shel would seek his council, often coming away with words he hoped might buoy him through these dark times. But they never did.

    Eventually, he grew to resent the stalwart man.

    How could he stay so consistent, so strong. Surely a Dowser would have seen horrors far beyond what Shel had, and yet¡­ He was unchanged, untainted by the work.

    There must be something wrong with him.

    That was the only explanation.

    No normal man could stare into the dark for so long and not be poisoned.

    After four months as an Overseer, Shel stopped indulging Heela''s efforts.

    He began spending more and more time at the Overwatch.

    For some reason, he felt truly comfortable there, surrounded by the only people who could ever truly understand his pain.

    With Heela he was always on guard, but at The Overwatch he could be unabashedly himself.

    <hr>

    Karson placed a small box on their usual table at the Overwatch, sliding it over to him.

    It was late in the night at this point, Lovitt and Feen had already found partners and gone to bed.

    "What is it?" Shel asked, wiping the ale from his lips.

    "Cigarette Tin." She replied.

    He tore away the simple brown wrapping paper.

    "Thought you might want to buy some of your own smokes, for a change." She grinned.

    Shel smiled.

    He''d been smoking a lot since joining the 14th. Heela didn''t like it. But, it was part of the job.

    Heela just didn¡¯t understand.

    She was too clean¡­ Too naive.

    <hr>

    "What is that?" Heela asked, removing dishes from the dinner table.

    Shel let out a puff of smoke.

    "Cigarette tin." He responded.

    She frowned. Heela had asked him to stop smoking inside weeks ago.

    He took another puff, wondering if her empathy would ever run out.

    "I know what it is." She said, "Why do you have it?"

    "For cigarettes." He replied.

    He knew what she was really asking, but he couldn''t help baiting her.

    She bit her lip in frustration.

    "You know what I mean." She sighed, "Where did you get it?"

    "Can''t tell you that."

    His reply was sharp, meant to cut.

    "You can''t tell me about a cigarette tin?"

    Shel shook his head.

    Why was he doing this? She didn¡¯t deserve this.

    "Really?" She folded her arms, glaring at him.

    The Overseer squinted his eyes in suspicion. Was this the moment?

    "Even if I did tell you, you¡¯d never understand.¡±

    "Really?" She repeated, heat in her voice. "There''s nothing you can tell me? Not about the people you work with, or the cigarette tin, or why you come home so late, stinking of booze?"

    "That''s right, Heela, and you know that!" He spat. "You think I don''t want to tell you things? I''d love to share this with you, but I can''t!"

    That was a lie. He''d never tell her, never taint her like that.

    "Just tell me how you feel!" She pleaded.

    ¡°And what¡¯s that gonna do?¡± He snapped, rolling his eyes.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± She said, exasperated. ¡°I don¡¯t know, but I¡¯d take anything at this point.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t¡­¡± He growled.

    ¡°You can¡¯t¡­¡± She sighed, shaking her head. ¡°You can¡¯t¡­ You can¡¯t do anything anymore, can you?¡±

    She shook her head, irritated.

    ¡°Can¡¯t stop smoking in the house, can¡¯t come home early, can¡¯t stop lying to my face¡­¡±

    Her jaw flexed.

    ¡°You can¡¯t even love me anymore.¡±

    Shell shot up, chair flying back against the wall.

    ¡°Woman!¡± He stepped forward.

    She backed away, fear in her eyes.

    He froze at the sight of it.

    Her beautiful face. The face of the woman he¡¯d loved since he was a boy.

    He took a breath, anger dissipating.

    ¡°I love you, Shel¡­¡± She whispered, eyes earnest.

    "You don''t know what you love." He sighed.

    It was over¡­

    He knew it was over.

    He needed to end it here.

    To free her from him.

    "''You just need to get back out there, Shel. You just need to keep trying, Shel.''" He muttered, mockingly. "Do you know what you do to me, Woman?.¡±

    Her brow furrowed, confused.

    ¡°Every hour at Kava and Barry¡¯s, every second with my mother,. Every moment with you¡­ It¡¯s like poison in my heart. I can hardly look at you."

    He looked away, grimacing.

    ¡°Just being with you right now¡­¡± He whispered. "It¡¯s killing me, Heela¡­ You¡¯re killing me.¡±

    He had to strain to keep his voice from shaking.

    The silence stretched.

    Heela¡¯s face had grown stoic. She knew what he was doing, she knew him too well.

    But, eventually, blessedly, she nodded.

    "So, what do you want, Shel?" She asked. "Do you want me to go?"

    He could feel this was wrong. A part of him screamed for him to stop. To apologize. To take it all back.

    "Finally." He muttered, voice cracking

    He gritted his teeth.

    "If you want to help... Then please¡­ let me go."

    He met her eyes.

    The eyes of the woman he¡¯d grown up with. Who¡¯d seen him grow. Who¡¯d supported him all the way.

    Something broke within him as he watched the dream of their life together die behind those eyes.

    She left that night.

    It was for the best.

    That¡¯s what he told himself.

    She was the reason for his shame. She was too bright for him now. Her light only made his shadows darker.

    It was her fault really¡­ in a way.

    The better part of him knew he¡¯d pushed away his only chance of salvation.

    <hr>

    "Heela left me." Shel muttered, as he and Karson leaned against their sinister carriage.

    "Oh." She whispered, passing the cigarette back to him. "I''m sorry."

    "It''s not your fault." He replied, taking a drag. "She just¡­ didn¡¯t understand."

    "Right." Karson nodded, solemn.

    She understood completely.

    "It''s for the best really." He lied, passing the cigarette back. "For both of us."

    Karson nodded again.

    She heard all he could not say. She understood what he couldn''t admit, and accepted it.

    "I''ve got your first round tonight." She said, dropping her cigarette to the cobblestones, putting it out with her foot.

    It was a Mother and son that day. Shel was on scrub duty.

    That was the first job where he hadn¡¯t once felt the urge to spew.

    He was at home in his life now. With Heela gone, he was empty, hollow, but at least it was just him.

    Shel was beginning to understand why the other Erasure crew members didn''t like Keen. Something was off with a man who could be so steady in a sea of blood. A man who could step out of those waters and into the real world, clean.

    There¡¯s something wrong with him. Shel mused, as he scrubbed blood from powder blue walls.

    <hr>

    That night, after many drinks. Karson took Shel''s hand, pulling him gently to her room at the Overwatch. They laid together, and to Shel''s surprise, for the first time in half a year, he felt like a man. Not a person, but a man at least.

    Shel''s relationship with Karson began that night.

    They spent their days in the bliss of drink, and each other''s embrace.

    The shame was not gone. The man he had once been still existed, watching him, judging him. But, the pleasure of sex and ale numbed him.

    A shade to block the light.

    <hr>

    By the end of his first year, Shel was comfortably numb.

    He and Karson lived together. They had a dark room at the Overwatch. Away from the eyes of purer souls.

    Approaching their newest job, Shel noticed a disheveled man, sitting on a bench outside a row of wooden houses. He was slumped over, staring at the gravel between his feet, a worn pipe in his hands.

    The young Overseer waved Karson ahead.

    "I''ll see you in a minute."

    It had been several months since he¡¯d seen the Dowser. The man was much changed since then. His suit was rumpled, beard unkempt, eyes red and swollen.

    The man hardly blinked, staring into nothing.

    Shel waved a hand in front of him, to no response.

    The Dowser was broken.

    The Overseer frowned.

    He had never expected this. He¡¯d felt so many things for this man over the last year. Appreciation, idolization, irritation, and contempt. But now, seeing this incorruptible figure brought so low¡­ all he could feel was... discomfort.

    "So¡­¡± He started, feeling the need to say something. ¡°What''s new, Kint?"

    He cringed at the awkward line. It had been a long time since he¡¯d shown any empathy.

    Kint hadn¡¯t noticed, however.

    "Is... Is everythi¨C Are you okay?" The Overseer stammered, crouching before the hunched over Dowser.

    This time, Keen seemed to register the words.

    He looked up, meeting Shel¡¯s eyes.

    The boy flinched.

    Those eyes¡­

    Wide with despair, pleading for answers. They had a tenuous grip on reality.

    One of the man¡¯s cheeks twitched. His face fluttered between emotions faster than a humming birds wings.

    "I--" The broken man started. "You... you were right, Shel."

    He paused, looking out into the Shroud. Distracted by something far away.

    "Right about what?" The boy pressed, "What was I right about, Kint?"

    The man turned back to him, mouth settling on a smile, eyes devoid of hope.

    "It¡¯s not real¡­ None of it¡¯s real¡­"

    An intense sadness shrouded the Dowser''s face.

    "We are sheep..." He twitched. "The prophet is dead, and we are sheep..."

    He checked over his shoulder, before leaning in close.

    "The wolves are tending the herd." He whispered, laughter overtaking him. A sick, twisted laughter.

    Shel¡¯s brow furrowed, unsettled.

    The suffering, the guilt from this man made him very uncomfortable.

    Seeing such a Stalwart man brought so low. He¡¯d imagined this day several times. Thought he might enjoy it.

    But now¡­ Numbness reigned.

    He laid a hand on the Dowser''s shoulder.

    "Let''s go to the Overwatch after this, eh?¡± He soothed, giving a half-hearted smile. ¡°I''ll buy your first round."

    <hr>

    Shel thought he would feel better once he stepped on the job site, but he didn¡¯t. He couldn¡¯t shake the Dowsers'' haunted eyes.

    His discomfort only grew as he journeyed down the dark entryway, entering a small living area. There was a sense of familiarity to this place. A lived-in quality, like long forgotten joy.

    It was unnerving.

    He couldn¡¯t shake the feeling he¡¯d been here before.

    There was a wood stove in the far corner, faced by two comfortable leather chairs.

    He stumbled, feeling an intense pressure in his mind. Like someone was pushing against it. Trying to get in¡­ or break out.

    His crew mates crouched in front of the two leather chairs. Below them, a cinder of soul was being buttoned into a black tarp.

    Shel heard a crackling sound, like crushing chips, as the Overseers moved the body into the bag.

    A lock of raven hair fell from the side of the bag as they lifted the body.

    His mind shuddered, consciousness warping. A realization rushing toward him like a tidal wave.

    "Thanks for the help." Feen scolded, shouldering past.

    "Shut up, Feen." Karson chided, "Lovitt, Shel. Check the other rooms for a Sinner. It''s gotta be around here somewhere."

    "Right." Lovitt nodded, looking around.

    Shel did not respond. He knew this scene. He knew it¡­ like a memory¡­

    Because it was a memory.

    His mind shifted. Memories crashing back.

    He was Kint Archaedis, Inspector of District 13.

    He looked around.

    This was a dream. It had to be.

    Another twisted dream¡­

    He didn¡¯t know this Shel Darint person, but he knew this house. He knew this scene.

    He¡¯d lived it a thousand times. His moment of ruin. The day his world shattered.

    How could he not remember it?

    He knew the moment, beat by beat.

    He''d stabbed her here, standing by the furnace.

    Kint knelt down, touching the dried blood on the floor.

    She bled out here, that pitying look on her face.

    In shame, he''d thrown his knife away¡­ there.

    Kint looked to a space under the chair and frowned. Where was the knife?

    A door opened behind him.

    Where was the knife?

    Kint furrowed his brow.

    This wasn¡¯t right.

    Where was the knife¡­

    He searched frantically¡­

    Where was the bloody knife?

    His eyes widened.

    Right¡­ This was a dream. A dream like the one he¡¯d had the night before.

    Not a normal dream¡­ so things would be changed.

    But, what¨C

    "Oi" Lovitt exclaimed, surprised. ¡°What¡¯s this?¡±

    A cold sweat broke out on Kint¡¯s forehead, fear lancing his heart.

    Something had changed¡­

    He turned, looking at Lovitt.

    The man stood by Nessa¡¯s door, shadow darkening the bedroom wall.

    Where was the knife?

    "No..." The Dowser muttered, eyes wide with panic.

    He moved quickly, pushing the larger man aside. He burst into the room with a dreadful momentum.

    Kint froze.

    His eyes drank in the familiar room. But his mind struggled to process the scene. His pulse beat like a drum through his ears, teeth grinding.

    "What is this?" Kint said, grinding out the words.

    He blinked hard, shaking his head. Trying to clear his vision

    "I don''t know..." Lovitt replied, concerned. "I''ve never seen this before."

    "This isn''t right." Kint said, taking a careful step forward.

    "Yeah..." Lovitt replied, "Looks like they forgot to cook it."

    Kint glared at the man, rage flooding his veins.

    "No.¡± He growled, pointing at the scene. ¡°This isn''t right. This didn''t happen."

    The seasoned Overseer looked at Kint, confused.

    "I''m lookin'' right at it, Shel..." Lovitt said, concern in his voice. "They just... forgot to burn her..."

    ''Her''... Kint shuddered at the word.

    What his eyes were seeing and what his mind could comprehend finally met.

    "No..." He convulsed, dashing to the bed. "This isn''t real."

    The pale skin, jet black hair, freckled cheeks...

    The Stalwart Knife planted in her chest...

    His knife.

    "This didn''t happen." He said, voice shaking.

    He reached out, touching her arm. Icy cold lanced through his hand.

    It felt so real.

    "Nessa." He pleaded, "God''s, Nessa!"

    He reached out with his other hand, grabbing his daughter''s lifeless body, shaking her.

    "Nessa wake up!¡±

    ¡°Prophet above!¡± He cried, ¡°Nessa wake up!"

    "Boss!" Lovitt yelled behind him. "Get in here! Shel''s cracked!"

    "Oh Prophet!" Kint moaned, embracing his daughter.

    Cold despair ripped through him as his cheek touched her frozen flesh.

    The clatter of boots stomped behind him.

    Tears flooded his eyes. He felt a dull pain against his chest as the handle of his knife pressed into him.

    "What have I done!" He hugged her tight. ¡°I didn¡¯t do this!¡±

    A set of strong hands grabbed Kint by the shoulders, trying to pull him away.

    He would not let go.

    Another set latched onto his daughter''s body, prying her from him.

    "Nooo!" He shouted, "I can''t lose her! Not her too!"

    "Snap out of it Shel!" Karson yelled, ripping the lifeless little girl from his arms.

    Lovitt stumbled back as Kint lost his grip on the girl.

    "I didn''t do this!" Kint screamed, desperate.

    "We know." Lovitt grunted, wrenching him toward the door.

    Feen added his hands to help pull him away.

    Kint watched as Karson set his daughter down in a sitting position on the bed, her back against the wall, knife protruding from her chest.

    The redheaded overseer returned, rushing to subdue him.

    Kint''s eyes widened in horror, as his daughter''s lifeless eyes opened, revealing dark crimson pools beneath.

    A familiar rictus smile split the little girl''s lips.

    "You!" Kint spat, rage overwhelming him.

    He redoubled his efforts, pushing against the hands that bound him. Clawing himself forward against the strength of the two men.

    "Get out of her!" Kint roared, spit flying from his lips.

    Karson reached him, pushing against his chest as the other two pulled him toward the door.

    "God''s Shel." She grunted, "What''s wrong with you!"

    "Get out of my daughter!" He screamed, throat raw. "Get out of my head!"

    Kint felt one of his feet slip as he tried to pull himself toward the laughing spirit wearing his daughter''s face. The crew shoved him against the hallway wall, Lovitt and Feen pinning him to it. The laughter followed him out of the room, taunting him, fueling his bestial anger.

    "Get out of my head!" Kint shouted again.

    The dark wooden door slammed in his face.

    <hr>

    Kint shot upward, sitting straight in his bed, breath coming in gasps. He put a hand to his chest, feeling the thumping anger slow within him. His hand slid against skin covered in sweat.

    "Another dream..." He murmured.

    The gray light of morning spilled through his window.

    It was just another dream¡­ Another terrible dream.

    What was that thing?

    Those red eyes.

    What did it want with him? Why was it showing him these things?

    "Papa...?" A hesitant voice came from the doorway.

    Kint looked up sharply to see his daughter, face full of worry, cheeks flush with life.

    "Nessa!" He sighed, relief flooding his voice. "Come here."

    He beckoned her over, pulling her into a hug.

    "You''re sweaty, Papa." Nessa noted, though she did not shy away.

    "I... I had an interesting dream." Kint responded.

    "Was it a scary dream?" She asked, pulling away.

    "Yes." He admitted.

    "Were there monsters in your dream, Papa?"

    Her tone was serious.

    "Yes." Kint replied, solemn. "Terrible monsters."

    "Did you fight them?"

    "No." He said, "Not this time."

    "Would you?" She asked.

    His brow furrowed.

    "Would you fight the monsters, Papa... For me?"

    The image of Nessa with sharp crimson eyes came again to his mind¡­

    He did not falter this time.

    His lips curled into an earnest smile.

    "For you, Nessa..." He spoke, voice laden with meaning. "I''d fight the whole world."

    She smiled.

    He pulled her into another embrace.

    As he held her, his face grew stern.

    The time for coasting was over¡­

    He needed to take steps.

    He needed to move forward.