Trial by Ice

(2:00 PM)

Dace sat perfectly still, alert and unblinking, watching from the corner of his eye as Tavros weakly attempted to struggle from his bonds. The incompetent thug was still pretending to be unconscious, Dace could have called the man's bluff at any time, but instead chose to remain silent; it was amusing to watch him squirm. No doubt Tavros' mind was filled with worry and panic.

Interrogations against his type usually took time and patience, the mercenary knew this well. But it was a far more extensive process than just mindlessly pummelling the victim. One had to use weakness… exploiting whatever insecurities and doubts were burrowed in the subject's mind. As with all things, the controlled use of force was the key. And speaking of control…

"Open your eyes, Tavros. I know you are already awake. I saw you peek while the priestess was here." Dace waited, but Tavros persisted in his charade of unconsciousness. Leaning forward, the mercenary placed the tip of his dagger against the thug's bottom eyelid and began to steadily increase the amount of applied pressure.

Moments later, Tavros' other eye flipped open. "Okay, you caught me! Stop that, you filthy mule's son!"

Dace let the blade linger in its place, then unceremoniously yanked the weapon away, leaving behind a gash that looked like a bloody teardrop. Tavros blinked his eye rapidly as it began to water.

"Why are you even working with them? Some idiot elves and a freak with a weird voice… I thought your reputation was that of a criminal, not some faithmonger's lackey."

The mercenary shaved a sliver of wood from the table's edge, letting the blade pass dangerously close to the man's fingers. "I know your kind," said Dace, "You gather together like stray pack dogs, and then delude yourselves into believing that you're the masters of your pathetic domain. As if beating up beggars and extorting spineless merchants proves that you have strength." He suddenly drove the dagger into the table, grazing Tavros' cheek. The victim's head flinched, and a spot of blood began to run down his face.

"But you arrogant thugs eventually overstep your bounds. You become so proud and complacent that you think you can seize a man, ply him with promises or rewards, and then own him… control him. That one, fatal mistake that leads you to anger the man with the blade." Dace grabbed the underside of Tavros' jaw and forced his head up. "Someone once sought to control me, long before you were even born. It was an… enlightening experience. I swore that no living person would ever have such power over me again."

He released Tavros' chin and instead gripped the henchman's right earlobe, holding the ear away from the man's head. Knife in hand, Dace carefully set the edge against the base of the ear. "That is why I plan to kill whatever employer you answer to. You are the pure representation of what I hate, and that is no small distinction to achieve."

Tavros screamed as Dace slowly began to cut into his ear. "Ahhh! S-stop, stop please! The elf – the elf said not to harm me!" The mercenary suddenly cuffed the thug on one of his bruises, then pulled a cloth from his pocket and used it to gag Tavros while he was stunned.

"You think the words of the priestess will save you?" asked Dace as he resumed cutting into the thug's ear. Tavros kept screaming, but Dace remained focused and watched his bloody handiwork intently. Ignoring the muffled cries, Dace continued speaking, even though Tavros was far beyond anything that would be said. "I am not like the priestess, or the thief, or even that lamenting ranger. I am the 'other'. The monster. I choose to associate with them only because it furthers my goal to reach Cordas, nothing more. I have far outgrown whatever concepts of 'honour' exist for their kind." His voice had fallen to little more than a controlled whisper against Tavros' pained wails.

"They are not here to help you. No one is coming to your rescue. Face the fate you made for yourself, Tavros. Accept this, and it just might save you before you die. Otherwise, you can do nothing but die without dignity like an animal…" Dace fell silent and calmly continued to work on his victim's ear.

(2:07)

Stepping carefully to avoid slipping on the soapy floor, High Prelate Saudere crouched to examine the mess on the ground of the private chamber. A few of the golden husks were still unhatched. The Prelate picked up one of the small golden beads from the floor of Selena's quarters and held the object before the lantern light. Though difficult to make out, Saudere saw what appeared to be an insect of some sort, feebly trying to breach the bead wall.

The Prelate let the bead fall to the floor, then smashed it under the heel of his boot. "The priestess released the golden insects through the tower… to what purpose?" He turned and faced the two people standing against the door. "You there, what did you say your name was?"

They answered simultaneously.

"The name's Villet, sir, and –"

"I am Charell, my lord. We –"

The Prelate shot a dark glare at the boy. "Silence, acolyte. I will deal with you soon enough."

Villet frowned and folded his arms, looking away. The cleric standing beside the acolyte cleared her throat and tugged at the collar of her robe. "As I said, High Prelate, my name is Charell. Originally, I was supposed to be the liaison for your visit, but you requested Selena Shademoor instead, so I had to switch duties with her."

"What do you know about this mess?"

"Well, she asked me to bring that bouquet of horrid flowers to her room. I don't know much more than –"

The acolyte piped up again, "The priestess is up to something, sir! She planted those beads with the bugs in them, and they've stung almost everyone in the building. Except me and the cleric here." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pasted-together scrap of paper. "And look at this! She's a traitor, too!"

Saudere sneered and snatched the sheet from the child. "What is the nonsense? You are trying my patience, boy."

"After the bugs cleared, I came back to her room and found some torn up paper in an envelope on her desk. I pieced it back together myself. It's a letter from someone sneaky. She's a traitor, I just know –"

Charell suddenly boxed the boy on the ears. "You stole from a priestess of Tyr! Acolyte, when Priestess Shademoor learns of the lies you've been spreading against her good name, you will be cast out of the Order so quickly that –"

"Hold!" The Prelate's voice cut through the cleric's rant as he stared down at the letter. "If this is a genuine article, then it may be the priestess who should be cast out." He scanned the page a second time. The priestess was told to 'bring money' to someone? The black-scored lettering did not look like any common script. A criminal's mark, perhaps. What further upset the Prelate was the signature at the bottom… a simple, black 'C'.

"For Caden?" he wondered aloud. He gripped the sheet in tightening fists as he considered the possibility that Selena might be in congress with the vile Bloodletter.

"Sir?"

Saudere quickly folded the letter and placed it in a pocket. He pointed at the two faithful in turn. "Acolyte, go summon some of my royal horsemen. Cleric, have a diviner determine the purpose and source of these golden insects. I will uncover whatever deceit that elf has been hiding."

(2:13)

Swallowing the lump that had appeared in her throat, Charell gave a quick bow to the Prelate, then opened the door. As she stepped outside, the cleric was nearly bowled over by a pair of paladins rushing past. One of them paused for a moment and caught her by the hand. In one of the knight's arms was a bundle of torches.

"Cleric Charell, I must ask if you have the ability to cast any spells with magical fire. If so, it is imperative that you assist us."

"Why is this so important?" she asked, brow furrowing.

The paladin pointed down the hall. "We have a situation on our hands."

Charell stepped around the open door and looked past the paladin toward the hallway. About halfway to the end, around the tower's stairwell, was a massive wall of solid ice. The blockage extended from wall to wall and ceiling to floor, effectively trapping them on their side of the ice. What was disturbing was a frost-covered hand sticking out of the barrier. Moving closer to the cold wall, Charell saw that one of their younger clerics had been caught in the ice; the grey-blue colour of his flesh betrayed the fact that he was already dead.

"High Prelate?" she said, turning around to face Saudere and Villet as they emerged from the room behind her. "Priestess Shademoor is going to have to wait… things are becoming much worse."

(2:15)

"Huh. It feels much colder than I would expect, probably something magical inside," Cerdan said, pressing his ear to the metal door. He jiggled the handle on the safe again. "Certainly not a magical lock, though, those are too easily dispelled. No, this is definitely an advanced mechanism. There's no visible keyhole, and I don't think we'll have the time to search the building for a switch; if this thing was meant to keep out the city guard, a complete search could take weeks." The thief stepped back a moment and stroked his chin. "It's been a while since I had to get creative on a job like this."

"Ugh. Just hurry up," muttered Norris. "I want it open as quickly as possible!"

"Tsk, tsk. Well, maybe you'd like to yell at the door? If you hurt its feelings enough, I'm sure it'll swing right open!"

Selena shook her head as she listened to them squabble. Such harsh tones would never spoken among her colleagues in the Order. Sighing audibly, the priestess wondered what the High Prelate might be doing back at the Tower of Tyr. Probably still on his crusade to find that war criminal. Speaking of which…

"What connection do you have with Caden the Bloodletter?" she demanded, breaking into their conversation.

Cerdan stopped what he was doing and looked over at her. "…What did you say?"

"Not you, him!" Selena pointed at Norris. "Tell me how you are related with the Bloodletter."

Norris shook his head, a look of contempt still engraved on his face. "I don't know what in the Nine Hells you're babbling about."

Cyrael seemed to have a confused look on his face as well. "The Bloodletter? How ironic that you should happen to speak that name…"

"I beg your pardon, celestial, but of what do you speak?"

The astral deva opened his mouth, but hesitated and quickly shook his head and made a dismissive wave of his hand. "I apologize, priestess. I misspoke." He gestured to Norris and Cerdan, "Please continue with your quest."

As the thief and ranger slowly returned to their discussion about the vault, Cyrael leaned in close to Selena and whispered in her ear. Selena had to strain her ears to clearly make out the words in the celestial's echoing voice. "Know this much: Caden the Bloodletter is a unique mortal. Focused and violent… far unlike your kind. There is little else that I am free to say on this matter, save that the Bloodletter you speak of is closer than you realize."

Selena matched the serious gaze in the celestial's eyes. "You mean… Dace?"

"I can say nothing more," he whispered, "But I pray that you now understand my concerns about the dark-hearted one."

The priestess swallowed and looked away, wondering how she should respond to this new development. "I only let him remain with the group because he was of lesser concern; my personal distaste for his kind has to be suppressed if we are to find this Cordas." Selena rubbed her temples as she thought. "He was to be a means to an end, and nothing more. And so long as he remains here, working for us, then I know that he isn't running amok, committing atrocities in the rest of the city. But if he is the one that the High Prelate has been hunting all along, then that changes everything…"

The elven woman blinked and suddenly snapped her head toward Cerdan, raising her voice to a shout. "Wait, why are you here! You were supposed to be keeping an eye on the criminal!"

"Oh, right. Don't worry about him. I'm quite certain he knows what he's doing." The rogue smiled back at her, "Besides, I saw the rest of you heading down to the basement, and I didn't want to miss out on whatever fun you were planning to cook up."

"Are you completely insane! If the mercenary has done anything to harm the prisoner…"

A scream echoed through the hallway from upstairs. Selena widened her eyes and shook her head in horror, "No… I won't let it happen! What was I even thinking!" She raced for the stairs, pausing only to glance back and level an accusing finger at Cerdan. "This is your doing. Don't think you can smile or joke your way out of this crime. I swear that I will see you in chains if that man dies!"

(2:25)

There was a long gash running along Tavros' right arm, showing where a great deal of the man's skin and flesh had been cut off. Bloody rivulets were dripping down his arm, leaving a red pool on the table. Dace winced at the sight. Not because he was perturbed by the gruesome wounds, but because he was disappointed by the quality of his own work.

A few years ago, he would have been able to inflict the same damage with a minimum of blood. Presently, Dace guessed that he had hit an artery or two by accident. If Tavros began bleeding any faster, then Dace knew he would have to start working faster. But Tavros' screams had degraded into whimpers, and Dace felt that pushing the man harder might cause him to break down incoherently.

The door burst open and Selena rushed into the room with her steel mace in hand. "Stop what you're doing immediately and move away from that man! He was to be questioned, not tortured!"

Even as the priestess advanced on him, Dace never broke his gaze from Tavros' eyes. The elf woman was little more than a pest, hovering at the edge of the mercenary's field of vision. "You think her presence here will change anything, Tavros? I still have yet to hear the answers I want."

"I said step away from him!" Selena came closer and prepared to swing her mace across at the mercenary's mid-section.

Dace spoke evenly, "Hold, priestess." His arm went out to the side and he began pressing his bloody dagger against Tavros's throat. Selena paused, but maintained a solid grip on her own weapon. Judging by the heaviness of her breathing, Dace guessed that the elf was genuinely prepared to severely injure him… just to save a single incompetent gang member.

"Your courage is commendable, elf… but your audacity is not. Be aware, I am quite capable of killing both you and your two allies."

"I have three allies on my side," she growled.

"Of course you believe that. I would remind you that we require the information this man carries." He pressed the blade a bit higher, forcing Tavros to weakly tilt his head back.

"You swore you wouldn't kill him!"

"Indeed. But I made no promise regarding physical harm in general. If he withholds answers and bleeds to death as a result, then it is his own free choice to die with his secrets," Dace said, looking down at Tavros to ensure the man was listening. "I have given you ample chance to save yourself. If you would rather let yourself expire than ignore what loyalties you cling to, it is not my place to prevent you from dying."

Selena cut in, "That's enough, knave. I will not warn you ag–"

Without saying a word, Dace suddenly withdrew the blade and took a few paces back. Shooting a suspicious glare at the mercenary, the priestess moved to the torture victim's side and stood so that she could watch Dace out of the corner of her eye. She set her mace down and immediately started moving her hands, tracing a purple-tinged magical symbol in the air.

Dace watched patiently, not at all concerned by the elf's intervention. In truth, he was partly relieved by her entry. The mercenary knew that Tavros was nearing the threshold; any more pressure, and the henchman would likely break down mentally. To continue the interrogation, Tavros needed to feel some false hope.

Selena made a quick gesture, and the casting symbol shifted into a pale shade of blue that enveloped her hand before vanishing. The priestess gently touched her hand to Tavros' arm and caused the gash to slowly seal itself, though the bloodstains remained along his skin and clothing. Dace watched as she sighed audibly, apparently relieved that she was 'saving' the incompetent.

When she leaned forward to more closely inspect the damage on the man's ear, Dace swiftly came forward, grabbed the elf by the shoulders, and shoved her away in the direction of the door. His knife appeared in his hand, and the mercenary wasted no time slashing Tavros' arm open again.

As the man's screams flooded the room once more, Selena gaped at the mercenary in absolute horror. "Stop that, you demon! I don't have enough magic to heal him indefinitely!" She lunged forward for her mace, but Dace batted the weapon away off the table and to the floor.

He grabbed Tavros by the hair. "You heard her, if you do not start talking, you will die here for no worthy reason or purpose."

"Enough! I am hereby placing you under arrest for–"

Cerdan appeared behind the priestess and firmly seized her by the arms. "Perhaps we should leave the mercenary to finish his work before we make any harsh judgments on his methods…"

"Let go of me!" she shouted as he dragged her out of the room. "No, we have to stop him, he's going to kill that man!"

Dace followed and slammed the door shut as soon as the priestess was dragged outside. "Now, Tavros, let me ask you something." He locked the door and placed a chair beneath the knob for good measure. "Do you expect Cordas to shed any tears at your funeral? Do you think he will care enough to even give you a funeral?"

The mercenary returned to the table and grabbed Tavros by the good ear. "Wake up. Your lord doesn't care what happens to you. Your suffering means nothing to him. Are you that willing to continue enduring so much without cause?"

Dace tapped his knife on the table. "It is time for us to continue, this time without interruption."

(2:33)

"Step aside! I won't ask you again." She grabbed the elf by the shoulder to push him out of the way, but only succeeded in wiping off the blood on her hand and staining his leather jerkin.

The thief stood resolutely and shook his head slightly. "Sorry, priestess, but you aren't the only one with duties to fulfill. I need to find Cordas so I can get a read on his part in the attacks on my guild." Cerdan cocked his head to the side. "Why are you so concerned about this one man? We all have to crack a bad egg or two, eventually, if we want to make progress."

The priestess narrowed her eyes at the thief. "I refuse to accept that. There must be a better way." There had to be, she could believe in nothing less. Selena closed her eyes and sighed, holding the bridge of her nose for a moment. "I want to find Caden the Bloodletter. But in carrying out my duty, I can't let another person suffer by my actions. That would make me little more than an unfeeling zealot. Don't force me down that path."

"Hm. You shouldn't be worried about the Bloodletter," Cerdan murmured, "But I still can't let you through."

The priestess' cheek flinched and she briefly made a fist. If she moved fast enough, she could probably disable the thief with a knee to the groin, but then she would have no way of getting past the locked door. Her mace was still inside, and she knew she didn't have the right build to ram it down alone.

Selena leveled her gaze at Cerdan and jabbed an accusing finger at him. "You've crossed a line here. I thought you were different, better than his type. I should never have placed my trust in you."

"What trust? You won't even tell me your name."

"You know my name!"

"Not your real one."

"Wh–" She paused and ran a finger along her brow. He was trying to sidetrack her again. "No more of this. I'm leaving, and I'm going to round up the local authorities." She backed away from Cerdan. "When I return, you'd best hope that you and your black-hearted ally are far away from here."

"I'm disappointed to hear you say that. We'll see how things turn out," he replied.

What was that supposed to mean? She thought to herself. The elven woman hurried through the building to the basement stairs and made her way down. There had been times before when Cerdan angered her, but those were due to his juvenile antics and eccentricities. This time, she felt she had caught a glimpse of his true colours beneath the shallow exterior. And it left her even more upset than ever before. But what was to be expected? He was just a thief, after all.

On the other hand, he was a thief who had twice saved her life in the past. She sighed and pushed the thought aside, choosing to focus on the here and now. This was not a good day to waste time thinking about an ethical dilemma.

Cyrael raised an open palm toward the elf as she approached. "Priestess, you return. Does the light prevail in your presence?"

She shook her head. "Dace is still torturing that poor man, and Cerdan dares to permit it. I require your assistance; I need you to intercede and hold them both on guard while I seek assistance from the nearest constabulary."

As she spoke, Cyrael's expression seemed to fall. "Alas, good priestess, this I cannot do. As I have told you, my prime mandate involves this one," he said, nodding in Norris' direction. "I can do nothing to intervene on the other man's behalf, nor am I permitted to raise my blade against your elven friend."

Selena followed his gaze and saw that the ranger was still obsessing over the metal door, apparently trying to run a flat piece of wood between the cracks, for whatever reason. She found it pitiful to see a man fall so far and become so lost in a lust for vengeance. The sad part was that he wasn't the first person that she had seen on such a single-minded quest today.

The ranger definitely needed help, and she was glad to know that the celestial had such a strong devotion for his ward. Nonetheless, it pained her that the man on the floor above would continue suffering in her absence. There was no more time to waste here.

"So be it. I am disappointed, but I think I understand," she said. The priestess gave a short bow, then briskly made her way back to the stairs, knowing that every second mattered. "I will summon aid and return as soon as I can."

(2:40)

Tavros was beginning to look deathly pale, and his breathing had grown raspy. Regardless of how critical the man appeared, Dace showed no signs of easing his methods. "I must commend your willingness to perish for such an uncaring employer like Cordas. And here I thought you might just be a simple man, the sort who only joined a sub-par gang for money and protection."

The man's eyes fluttered, "N-no…"

"Speak if you have something to say!"

Sweat was running from Tavros' brow almost as quickly as the blood dripping down his arm and side. "P-Pryus… he controls us. Cordas owes him a debt. He's the one you want… not Cordas." He hesitated, having little energy left to spare. "Please, I don't know where… Cordas has gone. My legs feel numb."

The silence hung in the air for a few moments before Dace unfolded his arms. "Not good enough. I am beginning to believe that you have done nothing but waste my time here."

"Wha–?"

Dace circled around the table and, striking out four times with his blade, slashed the ropes holding Tavros down. The henchman rolled over on his side and began to curl up, clutching his bleeding arms. The mercenary kicked the table over, sending Tavros crashing to the floor. Seizing the man by the arm, Dace unlocked the door and dragged the man outside, dumping him in the hallway.

"You have already lost a great deal of blood," Dace said, "At least two important arteries are severed and still bleeding." He crouched beside the man and pointed to the front doors at the end of the hall. "Your freedom lies there."

Dace removed a coin from his pocket and flipped it at Tavros' feet. "I will bet you one copper that you bleed to death before you can make it outside. We are concluded." With that said, Dace wiped his dagger off on Tavros' shoulder, then stood and walked away. "If you deserve to survive, then you will."

(2:45)

The Prelate scrutinized the grey flesh of the hand sticking out of the ice wall. "How many men would have been lost in the ice spell below?" Saudere asked. Thus far, only two of his royal horsemen had reported in, and he feared that they were the only ones to escape the frozen wave.

Charell blanched. "The lower levels would have been swarming with our paladins and faithful. After the robbery from the basement vault this morning, we felt additional floor guards were a precaution."

The Prelate grumbled in response as he surveyed the few knights before him, all ineffectually trying to melt the ice wall with torches. Some clerics were making equally poor progress as they attempted to break the barrier with hammers and maces.

Saudere glanced around, looking for some way to contribute, when he noticed the stained glass windows behind them at the end of the hall. "You are certain that we cannot leave via the windows?"

"Well, we could try, but I wouldn't recommend it, sir. The outer walls of this tower weren't designed to accommodate a safe descent, and rope climbing is not a skill that is deemed a necessity in our training regimen. Our paladins rarely do much climbing, considering that they carry out their duties wearing full plate."

"Bah," scoffed Saudere, "then I will go down alone, if I must."

"Are you sure that's wise, High Prelate? I don't mean to comment on your physique, but–"

"Do not question me, cleric. I am fully capable and in top physical shape. My devotion to Tyr has kept me pure, in body as well as soul. Fetch some rope and whatever climbing gear you can find. We must make haste, before our attackers cause any more damage."

(2:47)

Norris glanced up, looked past the celestial, and saw Dace coming down the stairs toward them.

"It was a waste of my time. Tavros had no further information of value to us." Norris watched silently as the mercenary drew a grey rag from his pocket and began wiping the blood from his hands. "What progress has been made down here?"

Cyrael stepped forward, blocking the mercenary's path. The two gave empty stares at each other, and the room fell silent, save for the clicking sounds from the elf's work on the vault behind them.

Norris felt his lip twitch as he stepped up to the pair. "We think there's something of magical nature locked inside the safe. I think it may be important."

"But not so important that Cordas would take it with him upon leaving," Dace dryly observed.

Cyrael tilted his head down, glaring directly into the mercenary's eyes. "If you are so critical of our ways, then leave. Though I cannot raise hand against you, I will not abide by your ruthless ways."

"'Ruthless' is often another word for 'effective', outsider. Do not expect me to bow and prostrate myself in your holy presence," Dace said with a sneer locked on his lips. "I harm others. You wield a flaming sword, so I would presume that you do the same."

"I will not stand here to be compared with your kind, human." The celestial adjusted his coat and turned his back on the mercenary. "Mark this, blackheart: fate will find a way to punish you for your misdeeds."

"I do not believe in fate," the mercenary snapped as Cyrael moved toward the elf at the other end of the hall.

Norris remained silent as the exchange ended. Although his better sense was telling him to move after the celestial, a nagging voice in his mind told him not to follow like a newborn lap dog. If anything, he deserved to be grouped in with the blackhearted mercenary. The gods knew he was guilty of enough crimes.

"Have you something to say?"

Norris looked up and saw that Dace was eyeing him suspiciously. "No. I was just thinking that you and I are–"

"So you do have something to say."

"… You and I are rather similar, don't you think? We've both been forced into these lives as hired killers."

Dace suddenly stopped cleaning the blood from his hands. "What?"

"I once worked for Cordas, you see. I needed to earn money that I – that my friends – desperately needed to afford critical healing services. So I became a hitman, and I gave up my honour as a result." The former ranger sighed and shook his head, "I suppose there is no peace for our kind."

He glanced up and noticed the look of disgust plain on Dace's face.

"Hear this, fool," said the mercenary, "We are not of the same element. I commit evil acts, I have no illusions about that. But I walk this path out of choice. You walked it out of lack of choice. So do not presume to sully my reputation by grouping yourself in the same lot as I." He paused for a moment and, with his clean hand, drew a dagger from beneath his cloak. Moving swiftly, Dace drove it blade-first into the wall beside Norris' head.

"If you are so caught up with finding 'peace', then you can either quit lamenting like a sad poet, or you can kill yourself." He flicked the hilt of the dagger and walked back down the stairs.

Again, Norris felt the corner of his lip twitch, but he said nothing. With some effort, he pried the blade from the wall and fixed it to his belt. He obviously made a mistake by talking with the blackheart. Perhaps he misjudged the situation after all. Perhaps he was too focused on the past rather than the present.

Bah, he thought, I think too much. With that, he proceeded to the end of the hall and joined Cerdan and Cyrael near the vault door.

(2:52)

As he made his way up to the ground floor, Dace scratched at some of the blood that had dried on his hand. He could scarcely believe that Tavros was stupid enough to let himself bleed to death when he didn't even know anything important. Idiot gang members and their pride.

Dace walked up the last step and stopped when he saw what was waiting in the hallway. Tavros was facedown just a few feet from the front door. Judging by the massive trail of blood behind him and the paleness of his skin, he had expired.

More importantly, however, there was a man dressed in tan-coloured clothing kneeling beside the body, apparently checking for signs of life. Dace narrowed his eyes. This newcomer appeared to have foreign features that identified him as a Kara-Turian, or one of Kara-Turian descent.

The foreigner noticed Dace standing at the stairs, and slowly rose.

"Who are you, and whom do you serve?" demanded Dace. The reply was a babble of sharp, incomprehensible words. Whatever the Kara-Turian was saying, it didn't sound friendly or flattering.

Glancing down at Dace's hands, the foreigner's eyes narrowed slightly. In a flash, the warrior drew a steel-bladed katana and held it ready, stepping away from the body to clearer ground, keeping Dace in his sights. Apparently, the blood that stained the rag and Dace's hands told the foreigner all he needed to know.

Dace wiped his hands one last time, then tossed the cloth aside and drew a pair of daggers. This was his last set of weapons, but it would have to suffice against the warrior's blade. Facing the foreigner, Dace raised his daggers in an 'x' salute, then assumed a ready position away from the stairwell.

"So be it. Begin!"

(2:54)

Saudere grunted as he lowered himself down another foot, then let go of the rope and landed on his feet in the grass outside the tower. He quickly removed his gloves and used them to wipe the sweat from his brow. Climbing down turned out more difficult than he'd anticipated, but like all obstacles, he managed to overcome the challenge through sheer force of will. The Prelate glanced up and saw that two of his surviving royal horsemen were starting to descend via the same rope. Good to know that there were some loyal men in this faithless city.

The Prelate made his way around the tower base, eventually finding a large crowd gathered at the front gates. There was a massive wall of ice completely blocking the entrance to the tower, but it appeared to have a rather large pit hollowed out near the middle. Presumably it was caused by the efforts of the wizards standing near the front of the crowd.

"High Prelate!" called a voice from the crowd. One of Saudere's other royal horsemen, the highest ranking one, in fact, emerged from the group. "I am relieved that you are well, sir." He saluted and gestured at the ice. "We brought in some of the local mages' guild, and they've made some progress melting the barrier."

"If they're guild members, why has the ice not been burned through completely? Surely they have the magical capacity to do so."

"I was told that they currently have very few skilled senior members. Apparently most of their number were killed a few years ago during some sort of wyvern attack on the city."

The Prelate nodded as he saw a battering ram being rolled into place in front of the hole in the ice wall. A squad of knights and city guardsmen quickly assumed positions on either side of the main gate.

"If they are going to penetrate the building now," said Saudere, "then I want to go in alongside the breaching party." He reached down and removed the strap that held the warhammer to his belt.

"Of course, sir. Please follow me."

In moments, the knight and Prelate were in position among the other paladins, and they waited as a group of guardsmen prepared the ram for use. A group of clerics stood nearby, casting spells upon the men and women preparing to enter the tower.

A few seconds later, the Prelate steeled himself, bringing his warhammer to bear as he watched the guardsmen hoist the ram back. The battering ram slammed forward, and the resulting crash echoed through the air. Cracks had formed in the ice wall, and Saudere knew they would see battle soon. After a third strike on the barricade, the ice finally crumbled, leaving a gap large enough for a few men to squeeze through at a time.

The breaching party slowly filtered into the building, but as the Prelate neared the gap he noticed there was no clanging of metal, nor any battle cries from within. When Saudere finally stepped through the ice into the great hall, he at first saw only a line of knights standing still near the entryway, all facing the inside of the ice-covered room.

"Step aside!" Saudere shouted at the paladins, "Let me through!" He pushed his way past the crowd, then froze in place at the sight before him. Every surface of the large, circular entry room was completely covered in blue sparkling ice, save for a small circle around the gold statue of Tyr at the centre.

Many frozen paladins and clerics who had been caught in the initial ice blast were scattered about the large foyer, each looking like a morbid blue-tinged statue. Even more shocking was that many of the frozen faithful appeared to have been amputated at the wrist or leg. One or two were even beheaded. The Prelate lowered his head and took some small solace in the fact that such mutilation must have occurred after they were frozen; there was relatively little blood staining the ground.

"Where are the ones who did this?" Saudere whispered. For a long moment, there was no answer. He suddenly shouted at the top of his lungs, "Where are the ones who did this!"

His royal horseman stepped forward, "They must have escaped through magical means. There does not appear to be any exit untouched by the ice wall, and the men outside assured me that no one has left the premises."

Saudere's left hand clenched into a fist. He would hunt down the people responsible for this desecration, even if it took–

"Hold, Prelate. Look there." The royal horseman pointed up at the statue of Tyr.

Saudere followed the hand direction and saw that a blade had somehow been stabbed dead centre into the statue's forehead. The weapon seemed to be pinning a white parchment in place.

Shortly after, one of the more agile city guards managed to scale his way to the top of the statue's shoulders, and he carefully retrieved the note before coming down and passing it to the Prelate. Saudere unfolded the parchment and his teeth began to grind as he read the words on the sheet.

The royal horseman cleared his throat. "What does it say, High Prelate?"

"It reads: We remember Caden's Hill," Saudere snarled as he looked down at the bottom of the page. "Gather all the able-bodied knights and city officers you can find. I want them to perform a sweep of all the low-class merchant districts in the city immediately. Tell them that they are to arrest any criminals they can find and hold them for questioning."

"Prelate Saudere? What makes you think this is necessary, sir?"

Saudere held up the sheet for the knight to see, and pointed to the symbol of a black mask that prominently adorned the bottom of the parchment. "In their arrogance, our enemies have shown their allegiance. This marking provides us with a new lead; Caden the Bloodletter is working with the Shadow Thieves."

(3:00 PM)

Note: All author's notes will be posted in my forum from now on.