Keep it Quiet

The elderly woman wrote something on her paper and the blood oozing from it reduced from large thick globs to thin watery lines. "The contract is still skewed, but suffrage can be taken as compensation," she said.

"I accept those terms," Vondell replied, before looking down at Gregory.

Gregory was staring up at him with a confusing expression, a mix between amusement, horror, and cold realization. "I accept those terms," he whispered.

The elderly woman wrote something else on the paper, and the blood oozing from it stopped completely. It raised into the air and gave off a faint golden glow.

"A contract of silence has been created."

"The terms have been dictated through rune on flesh. Any attempt to break these terms will result in the activation of the silent curse. All those knowingly involved will be reaped, and forfeit their soul. These are the terms you agree to," she said, pointing her finger toward the sky.

"The Keeper bears witness to this covenant," she said, in a low foreboding tone.

With that, the contract disappeared with a loud snap. The old woman stared up at Vondell for a moment, her eyes peering deep into his.

"Is there something else?" he asked, feeling Surth's heat on his back.

The elderly woman broke eye contact, and began walking towards the fire, turning to black mist just as she was a step away from it. 

Vondell stared as those wisps in a pondering daze as they became one with the flame, blending into the smoke it released.

"Let's get moving," Gregory said, breaking Vondell's daze. He snapped his fingers, and a dozen of flowers appeared on his back. They glowed bright white, as he whispered a prayer under his breath. And once he was done, they dimmed, and disappeared, leaving his back completely healed.

He did the same with the blood on the floor and the branding iron, leaving the room devoid of any evidence they were there.

He then put on his cloak and tunic, before looking back at Vondell.

"Now that the contract is in place, you have no reason to act all moody," Gregory said with an awkward smile. "We're already late, we should head to the council room, the other cleaners would've started," he said, suddenly noticing the blood on the floor.

"Oh, and your name is Aidan. You're a mute, so you might want to act like one," he added, placing an index finger over his lips, before opening the door.

The warm moist air of The Plains blew in, causing the fire to flicker and snuff. Despite it being nighttime, there was a lot of light coming from outside.

"I'll lead the way, follow me," Gregory said, drawing the hood of his cloak, and clasping his hands together as if he were praying. Vondell followed suit, and the two of them walked down the hallway.

They were currently in a compound, with dozens of small stone houses just like theirs, squeezed together into one massive rock structure. There was another such structure on the other side of the stone pavement they were walking down. And likely another on the other side of that one.

Despite being less advanced than Antras due to their strict immigration laws, they were nearly triple Antras's population, and a large chunk of them were low-level serfs.

The rhythmic thud of heavy footsteps echoed from up ahead. There was a path that fed into their from the left, though from here they could not see who was coming.

~Heavy, quick steps. Serfs don't wear shoes, it must be a soldier,~ Vondell thought to himself, stretching a little. 

"You two," a loud voice boomed, right as they reached the intersection. 

A large man, dressed in long blade mail, with a shield in one hand and a sword in the other, stared down at them. His eyes were red and oozed with disdain as he inspected the two of them.

"Praise be to The Tigerna," Gregory said, bowing his head.

The large man's attention shifted to Vondell, who bowed his head as well.

"What, yer tongue don't work?" the man asked, clearing his throat before spitting on Vondell's cloak.

Gregory glanced at Vondell with pleading eyes, shaking his praying hands as if begging him not to do anything.

Vondell looked down at the phlegm on his cloak, before bowing even lower.

"He's a mute," Gregory explained with a shaky voice. Vondell had to admit, the man was a good actor.

The soldier looked Vondell once over, before looking down the hallway. "You're late. What room do you belong to?" he asked.

"One fifty-seven," Gregory replied, however, the guard kept his attention on Vondell.

"I'll gouge yer eyes out if you keep looking at me like that," he barked, taking a step towards Vondell. However, when he did not react, the guard lost interest.

"You two will be dealt with for being late. Now run to your posts," he added, gesturing for them to move.

Gregory and Vondell began running down the hallway, their cloaks flapping in the wind. However right as they were about to make a turn into another hallway, the guard shouted toward them. "What's that on yer back?" 

"Please keep it quiet," Gregory whispered, holding the bridge of his nose as he shook his head.

The guard rushed towards them, whispering something under his breath as he ran. An instant later, his eyes flickered green, and a gust of wind pushed him forward, allowing him to close the distance between them before Vondell could even draw Surth.

"I knew there was something off about you," the guard said with a smile, holding his sword over his head. He cut down with the force of an ox.

However, he hit empty ground. 

Vondell was on hugging his waist. 

"You don't have a whore's clue how to fight smaller people, do you?" Vondell asked, before kneeing the guard in the groins. Right before the guard could let out a cry, Gregory punched him in the throat, and what came out was a muffled whine.

Vondell poked him in the eyes, goring through. They popped with a soft slosh, and Vondell felt a warm squish around his fingers.

The guard rolled on the ground in pain. His throat had caved in, so all he could let out were soft raspy whimpers.

Vondell picked his sword up from beside him and drove it into his chest.

"Quiet enough?" he asked.

"Let's just get rid of the body," Gregory replied. "And did you have to gouge his eyes?" he grumbled, staring at the white paste on Vondell's fingers with disgust.

"Do to them, as they'd do unto you. Aren't you religious?" Vondell scoffed, already pulling the corpse away.