Eleven - A Strange Alliance
The next morning, the walls of the city were filled with posters of The Masked Felon, and the newspaper screamed the stories of him like an old tale that was revived.
The officials at court were terrified, and most of them demanded that they should be given more number of guards until it was confirmed that the threat was eliminated. Emily had to convince them that she would send out as many soldiers as she could, and put more guards on the watch. As she had expected, some of them even wanted to postpone the plague reformations. She rejected the idea without a second thought.
Corvo knew well that it was best not to tell anyone about last night's events. He didn't want to create any more panic, and after all that the red robed man had done, the matter was now personal. He wanted to take care of that man all by himself.
He sent out Geoff to check the prison cell in which Willow had been kept. He couldn't go there by himself and abandon his duty. He trusted Geoff with crime scenes, because he was surprisingly good at sniffing out clues. Corvo was planning to visit the place too, but late at night.
When Sokolov heard the news the next day, he seemed as awe struck as Piero, and the fact that there was a much powerful hand toying the entire situation became crystal clear to him.
The Overseers were sent to investigate The Flooded District, but they came back without any progress.
The Whalers had suddenly disappeared. The Old company building was no longer their hide out. There was not a single weapon or mask in sight around the building. Immediately, General Eyas and High Overseer Sturgess joined forces temporarily to investigate further about the Whalers' disappearance, an event that increased the tension among all the officials and common folk.
Geoff returned to Corvo the next day with Willow's black vest, silver hair clip and pocket watch.
'This is all I could find,' He said, grimly.
Corvo nodded, taking them in his hands. He saw no hope in them, nothing that could give them a lead. 'I'll give them to Piero,' He said. 'He might have a slight idea.'
'Do you think she's still alive?' Geoff asked. Corvo's hands froze, and he slowly looked up at Geoff. Though his face was gaunt, his eyes were wide open, near to revealing a state of fear and panic.
'I will find her,' He said in a low voice. Geoff was slightly surprised as he saw the depth of emotion in Corvo's face. 'Trust me, I will.' Corvo added.
'Gee . . . Forgive me, my friend,' Geoff mumbled, lowering his head. 'I didn't know she was . . . A close acquaintance.'
Corvo dismissed it with a shake of his head. 'It's not that,' He said, looking down at the vest and pocket watch in his hands.
Geoff didn't dare to question him about any of it, and simply nodded.
'I'll help as much as I can,' Geoff said to him.
Corvo nodded once. Geoff bowed and left Corvo alone in his chamber, closing the doors behind him.
Corvo placed the vest, hair clip and pocket watch on his study, and walked to the window. The image of the dead couple and lady kept flashing in his mind. Whoever the doppleganger was, there was no justification whatsoever for what he had done the night before. He remembered the baby, alone in her room.
He wad suddenly nervous.
A man that could kill without reason, could kill for mere amusement - how safe could a person like Willow be in his presence?
An endless line of ghastly ideas filled Corvo's mind. If Willow was taken by someone as demented as him, then there was no end to the ways in which she could be tortured. Corvo shook his head lightly, dismissing the horrible thoughts. He couldn't afford to think like that now.
If that man wanted Willow dead, he would have done it on the spot, back at the prison.
No, he wanted her for a reason. Judging by the events of the night before, Corvo was inclined to believe that the reason ultimately involved them getting to him.
He clenched his jaws, and headed out of his chamber. He had to meet with Samuel and Piero back at the pub the same night. He had a plan for the night, a place where he could start his search.
Far away from the tower, hidden in the suburbs of the city of Dunwall, there was a mansion made up of pure marble, covered by endless growths of wild trees and creepers. Surrounding it was a labyrinth of bushes and grass. It was hidden away in plain sight, safe in the shadow of a hill.
Brigmore Manor.
In the dimness of the twilight sun, numerous shadows materialised outside it's broken iron gates. Their faces were covered by very familiar vapour masks.
The first one among them was a man, the one leading his team of eight into the gates. A man named Range.
He walked in first, looking around at the lawn, at the over grown grass studded with mystical white daisies. Three witches appeared in front of him, blocking his path.
'You're late!' The first one sneered. She had a curious shade of greenish skin, with creepers wrapping around her left arm and neck. A few flowers stuck out from the back of her left ear, glowing in a pale yellow hue. Her eyes were mere slits, striking golden in colour. Her name was Ameya.
'Forgive our delay,' Range spoke. 'We got caught up with a rival street gang on our way.'
'Our mistress is not impressed,' the second of the three witches snapped at him. 'If you had arrived just a few minutes late, we could have had the pleasure of killing you.'
'It's not exactly in the favour of our master either, to visit you bi -' Range shook his head in false embarrassment. 'I mean, to visit you witches.'
The first witch sneered at him, flashing her sharp fangs.
'Now,' Range continued. 'Lead us.'
Ameya glanced at all of them suspiciously, and finally turned around to walk forward to the entrance. Her two sisters followed her. Range gestured his allies to be vigilant, and followed them into the door. Three assassins stayed back in the lawn as per the plan.
Range and his four allies were lead into the mysterious mansion. As they walked forward, a lot of witches sneered at them and made rude gestures. The assassins ignored all of them and solemnly took the route set by Ameya.
They were led up a flight of old wooden stairs and into the Gallery. In the centre of the enormous room was a table, on which was a plant with glowing white flowers. The walls had eerie blue and gold lamps, and long, colourful paintings of unexplained locations.
'Sit,' Ameya said, showing the table. 'I have to inform my mistress.'
'Please make haste,' Range said aloud. When she left, he ordered two of his allies to stand guard in front of the room, while the other two followed him inside. He walked to the table, which had only two chairs, one on each opposite side. He pulled out the nearest one and sat down.
'I do not trust them, Range,' The assassin standing next to him spoke. 'These bitches have traps set all over the place. I hope we haven't just fallen into one.'
'I know, Lucent,' Range said, without looking at him. 'But we have orders from The Master. And if they do start attacking, we just stick to the plan. No offence. We'll just defend each other and escape. We are outnumbered.'
'I don't trust the master either,' Lucent grumbled.
Range said nothing.
The door opened, and Ameya stepped in, followed by the mistress.
Her skin was a pale white. Her eyes were crimson, and her hair was in a deep greyish shade, left free on her shoulders in wisps of dreadlocks. Her dress was a dark green, and looked like it was made from moss and sea weed. It expanded at the back in a pattern of feathers, giving her the grace of a peacock with closed plumage. The hem of her deep green dress touched the floor and brushed it constantly.
'I do not see your master,' Samara spoke, as she walked to the table. Her voice was pure evil, deep and husky. She seated herself on the chair opposite to Range's.
'He was busy with an important assignment.' Range answered, unmindful of her intimidating demeanour.
'Something more important than our deal?'
'Of course not.'
'Then why is he not here?'
'He trusts me enough to speak on his behalf.'
'I am not pleased.'
'Well,' Range tilted his head slightly. 'We are not here to please you, Samara. We are here to settle the deal once and for all.'
Samara sat back slowly, her crimson eyes boring into Range's black ones. She put her left hand on the table, drumming the teak wood slowly, making a sharp sound every time one of her pointed black nails touched the table.
'The approval of this deal does not mean we favour you assassins or forgive you in any way,' she finally spoke. 'You dare to double cross us, or even remotely think of acting too smart, we will not think twice before wiping you cockroaches out, without a trace.'
Range said nothing. Beside him, Lucent shifted uncomfortably, and to everyone else it looked like he was nervous. However, Range knew better than anybody else that he was smirking inside.
'Of course,' Range accepted, even though her threats simply amused him. It was a known and accepted fact that one witch could easily defeat three amateur assassins, their magic was on a different level. But after Delilah's death, they had fallen weak. They were vulnerable to every little threat, including minor street gangs. They needed strong support, and that was exactly where the Master had seen an opportunity.
'Well then,' Samara stood up. 'Me and my sisters agree to offer you assassins shelter in our own Manor for two weeks, and in turn you will offer us your fighting hand whenever any threat stands in our way.'
Range stood up after her, and nodded. 'Any formalities for this contract?' He asked.
'A drop of your blood,' She answered, with a smile that exposed her sharp fangs.
Range gave a nod, and pulled out his right glove. He held out his right hand, and one of the witches that was standing guard walked forward and cut a deep scar on his forefinger.
Range winced. Worthless bitches, he thought.
'On the the table,' The witch added. Range positioned his wounded finger on top of the table, watching three drops of blood fall on the dark brown surface.
The three drops seemed to dissolve into the table. In seconds, the red colour was gone. Samara did the same, but to Range's disgust, her blood was a sickly green.
'You may leave now,' she said, walking out of the room. 'Bring back your friends tomorrow night. One of my sisters will show you your new . . . Home.'
Range couldn't help but notice the sarcasm in her voice, like she was secretly planning on killing them all, one by one. However, he just nodded in acceptance, and before the witches knew, they had all disappeared from the room.
Ameya sneered from the corner. 'We should just kill them all!' She exclaimed.
'That fire of vengeance burns in all our hearts, sisters,' Samara said, turning to face Ameya and the three other witches. 'But the one who really killed our beloved mistress, he's already in the void. We are weak. We need support.'
'What about the ritual?' One of the three witches asked.
Samara's crimson lips curled into a wicked smile, exposing her sharp teeth. 'It will be performed on the seventh night, as predicted.'
Corvo watched solemnly as Samuel poured whiskey into three glasses. Piero sat beside him, mumbling to himself about things Corvo couldn't understand. He only hoped that Piero was thinking about ways to find Willow.
'I have a place in my mind, I'm going to start looking there tonight. Maybe after two hours,' Corvo finally spoke, bringing the glass to his lips.
'Join the threads,' Piero suddenly said aloud. Corvo and Samuel turned to him, putting their glasses down.
Piero pulled out a small notebook from his breast pocket and then a fountain pen.
'So many clues,' he mumbled. 'A few more and it'll fall into place. All of it . . '
Samuel and Corvo exchanged looks, and turned back to Piero.
'Daud was killed,' he mumbled on, scribbling notes on the paper. 'Emily was crowned, the assassins went into silence for about . . . Eleven months after that. Suddenly they show up and kill seven aristocrats quite spectacularly and just as the reformations were being planned. They attack the tower, make chaos, kill a . . A servant.' He stopped for a second, shaking the pen. 'Then Lacquert accuses Willow, which is quite understandable really, since she had the keys. Interrogation, and Willow gets caught.' He circled something on the paper. 'Thats our first genuine why, since Anna Maria's death doesn't yield much. Anybody you suspect?'
Corvo exhaled, staring at the paper. 'First, Lacquert.'
'Of course,' Piero continued. 'Moving on, the second felon appears, kidnaps Willow and then the assassins abandon their HQ in the flooded district. So obviously, this second one, whoever he is, is associated with the assassins.'
Corvo nodded.
'But currently, I think you should only investigate Lacquert. The army and the overseers are out there looking for the assassins.'
'What about Willow?' Corvo asked. 'We haven't got a clue where she is, whether she is alive or not. We have to find her.'
Piero settled his spectacles and sighed slowly. 'My friend . . Willow was my apprentice too, but in this case I think we should all consider her . . . Second. Because -'
'Thank you, Piero,' Corvo interrupted him. 'I'll just go to Lacquert's place now. I'll tell you if I find something. You should go rest.'
He got up, nodded once at Samuel, put on his coat and left.
Piero put his book and pen inside his pocket, and took the glass in his hands. Samuel cleaned Corvo's glass and put it back on the shelf.
'Willow is a smart woman,' Piero mumbled. 'She'll find a way, I'm sure . . . He told me last night, in my dream. He told me it's Corvo that we should be worried about.'
Lord Earnest Lacquert's house was on Clavering boulevard, opposite to Galvani's. It was only a duplex apartment, renovated five months ago. The street was much better, with trees growing along both the sides, and it was free of alarms and arc pylons. What lingered on the street were only three guards and an ice cream stand.
Corvo sneaked in through the small glass window in the attic, his mask covering his face. Lacquert had left for Morely the same morning, and the only person present in the apartment was his butler.
The attic was cramped, full of old furniture and other household items.
Corvo walked out of the attic, and went down the narrow set of stairs that led directly into the drawing room.
He looked up at the western wall, and saw the butler.
The dim light of the lamp showed only one half of his body. He was cold dead, pinned to the wall by a long sword that had impaled his chest. Blood was splattered on the walls and the carpet. His face hung to one side, his empty eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling.
Corvo walked forward and inspected the body, looked around at the room and the floor. He returned to the body, and found a note in the butler's vest, wet with blood.
He carefully removed the note and unfolded it. The blood stained the top section, but the ink was still clear enough.
' Johnson, lock up the windows and doors. You're free to grab drinks from
the freezer, but keep away from my private reserve. I'll be back in two weeks,
if my job is done as planned.
If you know who comes knocking, give him the envelope that I put in my desk,
the red one with a black seal. It's easy to spot.
I trust Lorelei won't betray us, mostly. If you feel there's something wrong in the
house, inform me and run for dear life.
E. L '
Corvo put the letter in his vest and went into the bedroom. There was a study desk in the right corner, all the drawers pulled out. He went through the contents carefully, but found no red envelope. Whoever had murdered the butler, had taken the envelope.
He went back into the drawing room, and closed the butler's eyes. He didn't dare to disturb the scene anymore. His heart felt like rock as he left the place, making his way back to the pub.
Lorelei.
He needed to find that woman.
Thank you so much for reading!
And if you guys have a deviant acc, please look out for my works. So far I've drawn Samara. My names BlazingGlory06. I know, should've used the same name.
Leave a review for me down there, I will appreciate that. ALOT.
xoxoxo