Chapter 12

Malakai stood at the edge of a small town, black smoke billowing up into the skies. The buildings, once the homes of honest, hard-working folk, were in ruin, burned to a charred slag. Some of the buildings still burned, though most had already collapsed, nothing more than heaps of smoldering embers. 

That alone would have been disturbing, but it was nothing compared to the gruesome display at the centre of the down. 

Bile bubbled in his throat as he stared, wide eyed, unable to come to grips with the sight in front of him. Dozens of corpses, all thrown into a pile that looked like a small hill in the centre of the town from a distance. 

Beside him, Verdan, of the knight's templar, placed an armored hand reassuringly on his shoulder, the unexpected gesture making him jump. 

"Rest easy, young Malakai. We will catch whoever committed this atrocity," Verdan said.

Malakai shuddered, looking away, the image of dozens of vultures pecking at the mountain of corpses burned into his mind. He turned to the templar, taking reassurance in the man's calming presence.

"Lord Verdan, who would do such an awful thing? They were just villagers, innocent people who didn't deserve this gruesome end," Malakai replied, the stench threatening to make him lose his lunch. For a moment, the wind changed directions, and he couldn't take it any more. Malakai, vomited on the dirt, heaving his guts out.. 

Verdan gave Malakai a pitying look as the kid wiped the spittle from his lips.

"Brutality like this is the reality of the world we live in. This is why the holy mother has established the order and its various branches, to bring the ones responsible for atrocities like this to justice," Verdan said.

Another voice cut into the conversation. "The holy mother by her grace has granted humanity her blessings. She is divine by her very nature, but humanity is not," said a soft, yet commanding voice. A man dressed in immaculate black robes, with a depiction of a person with both eyes and mouth sewn shut appeared from a side alley. Imand Nulcan of the silent chapter strode out onto the street.

"You think it was humans who did this?" Malakai asked, eyes wide. 

Imand waved a bony hand in a roundabout manner, as if to encompass the whole town. 

"All the buildings are ransacked of their wealth, and so are the bodies. I don't know about you, but in my experience monsters don't care about money," Imand said.

Malakai blanched. It was even more disturbing knowing that it was people who did this and not monsters. What kind of sick bastards slaughtered an entire town for no other apparent reason than to rob them? The town couldn't even have been that rich.

Imand gestured to the hill of corpses that reeked something fierce despite being downwind. 

"Shall I clean up this mess, or do you want to?" Imand asked, casually.

Verdan let out a tired sigh.

"I will handle it. We don't have the manpower to give them a proper burial, but we can at least send them off to the holy mothers embrace," Verdan said, taking a step forward.

An unseen wind gusted the man's white cloak, his armor turning an almost radiant gold, as he drew his sword, the weapon gleaming in the sunlight. His eyes were closed as he muttered a silent prayer. The town seemed to fall deathly silent, as if unwilling to interrupt the man. When Verdan's eyes opened, glowing like the noonday sun. The world shuddered, the air twisting above the corpse pile several dozen meters away. Not even a heartbeat later, a radiant pillar of light descended.

There was a thunderous crash, and a blinding flash of light. Malakai was forced to look away and shield his eyes, his hair billowing in the wind from the shockwave.

By the time he looked up, they were all gone. It was an awe inspiring display of power.

So, this was the power of a knights Templar? He hadn't had much chance to witness them in action while traveling the heavily patrolled pass. Every monster they had run into had been either scared off, or one-sidedly been obliterated with minimal effort. 

Perhaps that said something all by itself. The pass was supposed to be incredibly dangerous, and yet with Verdan and Imand leading the way, it had felt like a casual stroll.

Malakai was unsettled. 

The judgment from above had turned the entire corpse pile into ash. Vultures and all were gone, nothing more than a crater remaining.

Malakai really was out of his element. It was supposed to be just a few weeks as an errand boy for Templar Verdan, but somehow turned into an extended stay. Malakai still wasn't sure what had gone on behind closed doors the last time Verdan met with pastor Landen, but the old man had decided to send Malakai with Verdan.

Malakai of course didn't object to it. He would have been a fool to turn down such an opportunity. Sure there was a lot of risk to travel with two such esteemed persons as a blade cardinal of the silent chapter, and a templar, but there also came benefits.

He was essentially a student and Verdan his master, which was more than an orphan could have ever hoped for. 

His only gripe was that he still wasn't sure what was going on with Archivauld. Noone would tell him, as if it was some sort of secret or something. 

Still he wasn't an idiot, and how could he not see at least one of the posters?

Malakai was at odds with himself. He knew his older brother, and Archivauld was not a murderous criminal. It must be a mistake, right? 

The wanted poster of Archivuald was still burning a hole in his pocket, a bundle of unanswered questions in his mind. Malakai had so many questions, but thus far, had been reluctant to ask.

His thoughts were derailed as Verdan cocked his head, a frown creasing his face.

"Imand, have you done a sweep for Fel essence?" Verdan asked.

"Yes, of course. I thought it might be an incursion, but my tests were all negative," Imand replied.

Verdan gestured to the side of a building.

"See that burn scar on that building, and the other side of the street too. That looks an awful lot like the burn from essence overflow," Verdan said.

Imand hummed thoughtfully.

"Your assessment is apt. Those burns do look alot like essence burn, which usually only happens near a rift. But, my instruments are quite sensitive. If a gate opened in this town, my experiments would have indicated as much," Imand said.

Verdan's frown deepened.

"That is quite unsettling. This whole thing makes me worried. I will call in an inquisitorial fist from the city of Hope to cordon off the town and go over it with a fine tooth comb. Imand, can you get in contact with Talia? Perhaps the chapter of truth can unravel this mystery," Verdan said.

"That is a viable course of action. You are right, this is much to suspect for my liking. An entire village is massacred, and not a single survivor has turned up thus far," Imand said.

 "Troubling indeed," Verdan said..

…

Archivauld had never been much of a climber, given his dislike of falling from heights. Being able to turn into a literal monster hadn't changed that in the slightest.. And yet, he found himself scaling a several hundred meter sheer rock face in the dark, without a rope to catch him if he fell.

One of his claws slipped, and he clung to the rock face, his chest heaving as he clung on for dear life.

"Don't look down, Archie, don't look down. It's not that far to the ground," he muttered to himself.

How had things come to this? Who's idiotic idea was it to do this? He could only blame himself. For some reason, he had thought it was a good idea to hike the mountain, follow the ridge then descend the cliff into the city.

At the time it seemed safer than trying to get past the guards at the gate, or scaling the warded walls. Now that he thought about it, he should have tried the gate. With his beard, and shaggy hair, it was extremely unlikely anyone could match him to one of the red star bandits. On second thought, if he was found out, he would be placed on the racks, or, hung to rot on the inquisitor's dome.

A fall to his death would be much quicker. Even so, he had no desire to splat on the rock below. Heart racing, he slowly lowered himself, one leg searching for a foothold.

One of his toe claws found a crack, and he lodged it in. The perks of having claws. Putting most of his weight on his injured leg was extremely uncomfortable, urging him to quickly find another foothold.

Sweat beaded on his back, quickly freezing and turning to mist. Thank the heavens for his long, curved claws. Or perhaps, thank the Nether? He scoffed, running a clawed hand over the rough rock, lodging three fingers in a small crack.

Who did he send a prayer to in a situation like this? His injured ankle slipped and his heart lurched as he clung to the stone.

Damned ankle…. His chest heaved, plumes of icy smoke wafting from his mouth with each breath. The frost that constantly emitted from his body, turning the stone icy, wasn't helping anything, either. 

Muttering obscenities to himself, he slowly descended, his muscles taught as he held on for dear life.

Inwardly, he promised himself never to climb a cliff again after this, if he survived. Atleast the sky was clear, and the crescent moon was shining down to give him some light.

Securing himself, he glanced down, and a sense of vertigo washed over. Woah, no looking down! He was reminded yet again at just how high up he was, as the lights of the city sprawled out below.

It seemed to take forever with his only companion, the moon having traversed quarter of the sky by the time he reached flat ground. Eventually, his feet touched the roof of a building. It was a huge relief. With his entire body aching, he wanted to just lie down, but couldn't just yet. He had no idea if this place was protected by wards, and didn't want to stick around and find out. Moving cautiously, he hung off the overhang of the roof and let himself drop to the balcony. The estate was built into the rock face, with a view overlooking the dimly lit city. In the daytime, it was no doubt stunning, a villa of some influential person no doubt.

Not wanting to be spotted in his other form now that he was off that blasted cliff, he reverted to his human form.

It wasn't a few seconds too soon as a cutting voice came from behind him.

"You have some gall trying to infiltrate my home. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't turn you to ash?" came a distinctly menacing female voice.

Archviauld swallowed hard, raising his hands, as the crackle of lighting filled the air behind him..

"Woah, Woah! I think you have a misunderstanding. I have no desire to rob your home. I don't even know who you are. I'm just passing through," Archivauld stammered.

 The woman said nothing for a few seconds, clearly deciding whether to zap him or not. It was a very nerve wracking few seconds.

"You are not here to rob us?" she asked hesitantly.

"No. As i said, I have no idea who you even are," Archivauld replied.

"Then why are you here?" she asked, her tone doubtful.

Still with his back to the woman, Archivauld kept his hand far away from his ax.

"I was just doing a little night climbing, it's good training. As it turns out, I sat down on top of the wrong house. That's my bad. To my defence, It's hard to tell what house I'm climbing down on in the dark," Archivuald replied. He wasn't lying exactly, just omitting a few details.

"You were out climbing at night? Without proper ropes and a harness?," the woman asked, her voice even more dubious.

Well, go big or go home, he thought.

"Yes. I am training to try and qualify for one of the rift walker guilds. Climbing without ropes forces me to learn to work under pressure," Archivauld said.

"Oh? I see.. So which guild are you hoping to sign up for?" the woman asked, her tone more curious than suspicious. That was an improvement.

"I'm hoping to be accepted by the Sinner's guild," Archivauld replied, praying he was in Stronghold, and not Hope. It would be quite unfortunate if he was zapped because he chose the wrong guild. At this point it was fifty fifty. He was really hoping he was in stronghold, as the guild he mentioned didn't have much of a presence in Hope.

Given the fact he wasn't fried to a crisp, he was likely in the right city.

"I see… Well, if you are this dedicated, you should be fine. Though I would recommend you avoid breaking into people's houses in the future," the woman said.

"Of course, mam. Can I turn around now? Archivuadl asked hesitantly..

"Yes, just no funny business, and I'm not a mam," she replied.

 Archivuald slowly turned, only now able to take in the woman's features. His jaw nearly hit the concrete.

She was tall, lean, with wide shoulders, and pitch black hair, her sharp features faintly illuminated by the crackling lighting.

The women couldn't be older than her early twenties, in a loose nightgown. She had clearly been sleeping and hadn't bothered to dress before rushing to confront the intruder, aka himself.

She was absolutely stunning, with toned muscle visible through the unbuttoned gown. More distracting than her graceful curves was the head-sized crackling orb of purple lighting that arced above her palm.

The young woman's demeanor was casual, her keen eyes looking Archivuald from head to toe. Despite being unarmed, in nothing more than a nightgown, she didn't seem concerned for her own safety in the slightest.

Archivauld couldn't blame her, he would have been confident too with that orb of lightning at his command. She was stunningly beautiful for one, and judging by that hair-raising ball of lightning, incredibly powerful too. 

Even if she didn't call the guard, he would be toasted before he could escape. That was a distressing thought. What would he do if she decided to shout in alarm? If she did, Archivuald would have to risk that lightning, a prospect he did not relish. Thankfully, the woman didn't seem to have any such plans, gesturing towards the railing with her chin.

"You can take the railing, or I can lead you outside the gates, your choice," she said.

Archivauld chuckled nervously. He subtly wrapped his cloak tighter around himself. It was less out of a fear of her seeing him unclothed and more because he didn't want her to get an eyeful of his tattoos. That would lead to some questions he really didn't want to answer. Like why do you have two tattoos? Such a thing was likely quite memorable.

Clearing his throat, he said. "I think I have climbed enough for one night. If you wouldn't mind, can I go out the normal way?" Archivuald asked.

A faint smile tugged at her lips, one that made his heart do flip flops.

She dismissed that crackling ball of death and waved at him.

 "Follow me," she said.

With only a few seconds hesitation, he did so, entering the estate after her. In his torn and tattered cloak, with only an ax, and a pouch at his waist, he must have looked like a beggar. The well lit hallway he entered didn't do him any favors either. In contrast, she was even more stunning when lit up, that green gown clinging to her body in all the right way. 

He frantically tore his eyes away from her alluring figure, not wanting to get zapped for staring. Thankfully, the building had more than enough sights to keep him distracted. The estate was just as opulent as could be expected, with expensive furniture, elaborate paintings, and soft rugs.

Archivauld felt as out of place as a pig attending Sunday service. Any one of those paintings, or the ornate ‌ vases on display would have bankrupted him.

He couldn't even afford a single rug, much less one of the more expensive art pieces. They passed a partially open door that led to what must have been an armory, stalked with so many masterfully crafted weapons it made his mind whirl. It was an armory with all sorts of sharp implements, most of which he had only ever seen in books. Several even looked like essence forged blades. It would have taken decades, and enormous wealth, to amass such a collection.

Noticing his goggling, the unnamed woman cracked a soft smile. "My dad is a bit of a collector," she said.

"No kidding," Archivauld replied. That was perhaps the understatement of the century. 

No wonder she thought he might be a burglar. Any one of those weapons would cost several gold, the essence forged weapons upwards of fifty gold at the least. Any one of those rare weapons could have set him up for life. After taking a few turns, they left the estate crossing the front lawn. A set of ornate double doors swung open as she unlatched the front gate. 

That orb of lighting was no longer present, but even so, Archivauld made sure not to make any sudden moves.

No point in tempting fate. With the gate opened he walked out onto the street, looking back. 

"Thank you again, and sorry for the inconvenience," Archivuald said.

She laughed, a beautiful sound. "It's no bother, but I would recommend you avoid doing it again. If it would have been my father who caught you breaking in in the middle of the night, you would have been turned to a spasming pile of meat by now,"

"Noted i am glad it was you who caught me then," 

She paused, seeming to hesitate a moment before forging on," By the way, If you break into someone's house again, I would suggest you come up with a better lie next time, your story wasn't very convincing," she said.

He opened his mouth to refute the claim but the doors clicked shut in his face. Archivuald was left alone on the street, mouth open wide like a fish out of water.

Well, it appeared she hadn't bought his lie. He shrugged. Well it was a spur-of-the-moment thing.

Perhaps she had just felt pity for him? Either way, it had turned out better than expected. The guards hadn't been called, and he hadn't been turned into a writhing pile of meat as she put it.. 

All and all, that was a win in his book.

He let out a sigh of relief, glancing up and down the streets to get his bearings.

At least something was going in his favor. With the excitement fading, a wave of bone weary exhaustion hit him. He was not so kindly reminded of the cliff he had just scaled. Well, he should probably find a place to stay for the night. 

A comfy bed, a warm meal and a drink. The thought was enough to put a bounce back in his step. With the threat of being turned to a crisp behind him, he set off.

 Before his death-defying climb, he had left most of his things on the cliff. Archivauld had been unwilling to climb with a backpack. Nevertheless, he had been unwilling to leave the shattered remains of the nexus on the cliff above. His decision had paid off. The nexus was in a pouch at his waist, and twenty silver burning a hole in his pocket.

Archivauld had never been to Stronghold, but it was a bustling city, with all the amenities humans required. Brothels, drug dens, and markets, though the first two usually were called something different in the more affluent areas of the city. The rich couldn't let their supposed dignity be lumped in with the common folk, so changed the names. 

Not that it really mattered for his purposes. Archivauld couldn't afford to stay in an upscale estate, instead finding his way to more run down parts of the city. Finding a tavern was easy enough, the nightlife in full swing already. 

The raucous cheers of patrons washed over him as he entered, the smell of cheep bear, and smoke filling his nose. He smiled, now this was more like it. Archivuald took a seat at the corner of the bar, where he could face the door.

"What will you have?" the grizzled barkeep asked.

"Could i get a stein of beer and a plate of whatever's good from the menu," Archivauld said.

"Sure, anything else?" the barkeep asked.

"Do you have an open room?" Archivauld asked.

"Sure do. Four silvers for a week," he said.

"Three silvers, with breakfast and a bath too," Archviauld said.

"Three and a half and you have a deal," the barkeep grunted, offering a hand to shake. Archivuald took it, shaking the man's hand. He wasn't really in the mood to haggle, but he would stand out if he didn't.

His mostly full beer arrived shortly, the amber ale the sweetest nectar after so much time on the road. He let out a contented sigh as he idly took in the patrons talking, drinking, and all around causing a ruckus.

If you have been to one seedy tavern you have been to them all, with the occasional cloaked figures sitting at the back. He let his eyes drift, never letting them linger for long on any particular person.

His heart skipped a beat as his eyes rested on a display board nailed on the wall near the door. There were quite a few other posting on the board, but the four he cared about were at the bottom. Wrinkled and grease stained as if halfheartedly put in place, were the faces of the Redstar bandits. Yurlan, Tanur, and Parcival, plus himself, two of which were dead.

For some reason the inquisition had raised the price, even though they hadn't committed any more crimes in pass. How could they? Much to his dismay, Archivuald's head was now worth a shocking ten gold, with Parcival worth fifteen.

Noone would ever collect the twenty gold on Yurlan's head. 

Speaking of which, Archivauld turned back to the bar, pulling up his hood. His beard had grown out quite a bit, and so had his unruly hair, but no reason to tempt fate. His mind drifted back to his sighting of Parcival riding with those other people.

He wondered if the man made it inside the city, or if he was currently in a dark cell somewhere. Archivuald hoped it was the latter. The man deserved whatever fate would befall him under the silent chapters ministrations.

Speaking of which, Archviauld still needed to acquire some new documents. He needed a fake identity that would pass inspection by the guard. The problem was, how to acquire such a thing? 

He couldn't just walk up to one of the shady patrons in the tavern and start asking around about acquiring fake permits. Even if he found the right people, they might think he was an undercover inquisitor and knife him in an alley.

And even if he did find said person, did he have the funds to purchase said convincing permits? He would be essentially buying a new identity. Such things wouldn't be cheap.

He sighed, having Yurlan around would have been quite useful about now. If only he hadn't been eaten but a monster.

Archviaudl couldn't bring himself to be too upset about it. His only regret was that the nightingale hadn't eaten Parcival as well.

Well, now that he was inside the city, he would have to do something. He sighed, sipping on his beer. One step forward, two steps back.

First things first, he needed a bath, a new set of clothes, and a pair of boots. Once his food arrived, he dropped down a dozen coppers and went up stairs. 

Turning the key in the lock he swung his room open. A single person bed, a window hardly big enough to squeeze out of and a water basin.

Truly not very luxurious accommodations.

Even so, it was a lot better than a bedroll and the forest floor. After scarfing down his food, he derobed and set to scrubbing himself with a rag and the water basin.

It was almost a sin to call this a bath. The water was lukewarm, but beggars couldn't be choosers.

Even scrubbed clean, he looked quite the sorry site. 

It might have just been the head sized grubby mirror. His curly brown hair was long and shaggy, his beard unkempt from months on the road.

No wonder that woman had decided to spare him. He must have looked absolutely pitiful before cleaning up.

Taking the scissors beside the bowl, trimmed his beard and even combed his hair. In the past two months of travel, he had lost the pudginess to his face, his chin much more pronounced. 

Even Archivuald had trouble recognizing himself. He grinned, his own smile reflected in the mirror.

That was right, the old Archivuald was gone. A new place, a new him. The inner reaches were vast, and the people were many. All he needed to do was secure new, reliable documents, to officially seal the lie.