Dusk

by exb756

Continuation of Whispers. Autumn settles upon Connaughtsshire as war drags on. The war weary plot against each other and struggle to stand against an inevitable invasion of undead. Matt, Sora and Leon all face their own problems as winter sets in and new threats emerge to challenge them ever further. Rated T for strong violence, language, blood/gore and sexual themes.

14. The Lights of Dwer

Another man had gone missing that night. The total was now up to five.

His name had been Rarik, apparently, and he had been one of the men part of Rikken's original party back at the Ditch. Will had never known his name, but now it was reverberating within his head.

Rarik! Rarik! Rarik!

The shouts and cries carried farther and farther into the distant caverns as the search parties carried on with their excruciatingly pointless task. Wherever Rarik was, he had been long gone by now; he had disappeared before dawn, as his mates had noticed him missing when they woke up at the breakfast bell. It was nearly a lost cause.

"That's five," said Ibin soberly as he nursed a chunk of warm bread. "Five now."

"Don't talk like that," Anoth grumbled. "We're gonna do just fine. If we don't find treasure today, I'll get us out of here, I promise."

Whether Anoth was simply experienced or whether he was playing overconfidence, Will did not know. The treasure hunter was a veteran, and a revered one at that, but his initial facade of confidence and certainty appeared to be wearing thin. He looked a little less sure of himself now that five people had vanished, where normally only one would.

Camp was mostly silent that morning as many took their breakfast plates back to their tents, sticking with their buddies for protection. Only the bravest men dared to venture out into the darkness, armed only with lanterns and hand-picks, to search for the missing Rarik.

"How long will it take us to get back out?" Will ventured, curious.

"Only about a day, maybe less if we double-time it," Anoth replied, stroking his coarse beard thoughtfully. "I think today will be our lucky day, though. I can get us to treasure, I know it."

"I should hope so," Ibin muttered. "I'm not appreciating these bleak caves."

"You're a treasure hunter, Ibin," snapped Anoth, affronted. "Why don't you act like it?"

Having finished his food, he rose, sent his plate clattering aside, and departed as he grumbled under his breath. Somewhere on the other side of the camp he began shouting orders, as a man of his stature was wont to do.

"It's not the caves that are the problem," said Ibin to Will, when the big bear was well out of earshot. "It's this place."

"I feel you," Will replied, spooning cooling porridge into his mouth.

"Dwer is no hole in the mountain. It's got some sort of effect to it, boy, and Rikken knows that too. Anoth, though…"

"He's too stubborn to believe it?" Will ventured.

"It's not that...he's too experienced, in all the wrong ways," Ibin explained. "He's been under the earth more times than you've even glanced into a cave, and he's never found anything supernatural or evil. He thinks those kinds of things don't exist in this world." He shook his head.

Will knew that was incorrect. He had seen things with his own eyes, had seen the great horde of murderous monsters surrounding and besieging his city many months ago. Evil existed in the world, and Anoth simply could not recognize it.

"So, he thinks this is just a cave?"

"He doesn't believe there's more to it. Now, I'm not one for fairy tales, but I think we've come to realize that Dwer is more than just a cave," Ibin said grimly. "Now if you'll excuse me, I must gear up. I do intend to keep hunting treasure, even if it seems futile."

Will remained alone at the fire as Anoth continued shouting in the distance, traveling farther and farther away. Aeric had not woken yet and, thusly, Will was left to ponder his own problems while basking in the warmth of the crackling flames. He could only do that so long before he had to stand up, stretch his legs, and wake Aeric up.

The latter was still soundly asleep when Will came in to rouse him. The commotion in the camp clearly had no effect on him and he woke, drowsy and grumpy, when shaken vigorously by Will. The latter handed him a skin of water and then sat down within the tent, waiting for his boyfriend to fully wake up.

"Someone else went missing," Will informed him when he was wide awake.

"I thought I heard shouting," said Aeric. "How long ago?"

"A few hours, probably before the cooks even started breakfast," Will told him. "Ibin seemed particularly concerned."

"He has been, haven't you noticed?" said Aeric. "He's feeling regretful."

"Anoth says this is our last day. He's clearly bothered as well," Will said. And why shouldn't he be? Five men dying or going missing in the span of a single day was hardly anything to laugh at, particularly in Dwer. The price was one man, and one man only - it had always been that way, all of the old veterans insisted on that. If something had changed, then they were right to be worried.

"He still wants to go after that treasure, eh?" Aeric ventured, chuckling. "Well, that's what we're here for."

"Is it worth the risk, though?" asked Will, frowning. He had always been hesitant about venturing north on some snipe hunt for riches and treasure. Aeric had just barely managed to convince him that the expedition was worth their time, and now that hesitation was returning, compiled with anxiety and fear. He wanted to go back south, where he was at least marginally more comfortable.

"What else did we come here for?" asked Aeric, looking perturbed.

"But do you think it's worth going deeper?" Will wondered. "Is there any other way?"

"I'm not sure. But I'm willing to give this a shot. We're already here, and we've come this far, Will...and you told me you'd do this, if I promised you that we could return home."

He was right. Aeric had made a promise to abandon his own home and head with Will, as long as it meant they would work with Rikken and Anoth - even if they were stuck in Dwerhold for a month, or more, he still had to abide by his promise.

"You're right," Will admitted, swallowing the lump in his throat. "We...should press on."

"I know you don't-"

"I don't want to, but I should," Will said, smiling weakly. "It's the right thing to do. I made this decision, and I won't turn back on that."

"I intend to keep my promise too," Aeric assured him, smiling back. "We'll be out of here soon. And who knows? Maybe we'll get lucky."

The search parties all returned within the hour, empty-handed and completely at a loss for the fate of the missing expeditioner. Anoth forced himself to keep a straight face and remain unperturbed as he discussed plans for pushing further - it was clear Rikken was trying to retain the same facade, but he was slipping a little. Ibin didn't even bother, his face paling at the notion of delving deeper into the foundries.

"In light of recent events, if we have no finds today, we are turning back," Anoth declared, speaking to the entire party as it was assembled around the dying fire.

"So we just gonna abandon it then, eh?" asked someone in the back.

"If we must," said Rikken. "We're going to set up camp in the foundries tonight regardless, and leave for the entrance in the morning if we find nothing today." Anoth had planned the entire thing out, of course, but Rikken looked like he wanted to have a hand in the leadership so badly. He was jockeying with Anoth for space on the little wooden soapbox the latter was standing on.

"And if we do find something," said another voice, "what then?"

"We'll haul as much as we can out and come back for more," Anoth replied, with a dangerous gleam shining in his eye. "There's riches in this big damn cavern, I know it. We just have to find them."

The team seemed to cheer up somewhat after that. Fifty-seven hearty, well-armed men packed up their tents, stowed their sleeping rolls, boxed up food and abandoned their campsite, leaving nothing but embers, stones and assorted trash behind to mark their position. Lanterns blazing and candles lit, they departed the Second Level Plaza and took one of the great boulevards north, heading for the deeper foundries.

"This place has some strange beauty to it," Will muttered as he looked up, admiring the vast expanse of the ceiling carved out above them, nearly forty feet up.

"You starting to like it?" asked Aeric teasingly.

"Hardly. I'm not a cave person," Will said. "I had enough of caves in Swampheart."

"This is my first time, honestly. I mean, I've been underground, but...not like this," Aeric said, he too admiring the city. It did have some strange qualities to it that made it alternately frightening and beautiful. It was a dark, leviathanic labyrinth, but at the same time a wondrous work of mankind whose size Will could scarcely fathom.

"You think we're going to find something down here?" asked Aeric, waving his lantern at one of the abandoned hallways they passed. The light barely penetrated the long tunnel of darkness, and it exposed nothing but smooth, untouched rock.

"Could find anything, really," Will muttered, glancing nervously at the unlit corridors.

Aeric gave him a strange look for that, and he had to cover himself quickly.

"I mean...any kind of treasure. Not just silver, like Anoth said," Will added hastily.

"Yeah, heh, maybe...gold? Diamonds?" Aeric ventured.

"A boy can dream," Will snorted, laughing playfully.

"What's holding us up?" Aeric suddenly switched topic, tiptoeing to see above the group of men in front of him. Will realized then that the convoy had come to a halt, as if someone up front was having difficulties.

"Someone's stopped," Aeric said.

Anoth was looking down one of the side corridors, with Rikken at his side. They had spotted something of interest, and were furiously whispering with one another. Will, intrigued as to what they had found, tried to squirm his way through the crowd and step forward, but he found his progress blocked at every move.

"Don't push me, boy," warned one burly, one-eyed adventurer, cursing him thoroughly after he tried to squeeze past him. Will consigned himself to his position and watched anxiously as the two leaders deliberated in secret at the head of the column.

"What are they seeing?" Aeric asked, he too struggling to get a good view.

"I'll try to find out," Ibin promised, moseying his way from the middle of the group towards the front. The men parted for him, since he was a senior and an officer - Will begrudgingly waited as Ibin moved up to the front and asked what was wrong. Anoth clearly realized that he wasn't able to lie about the problem, and turned to his team.

"There's another party in here with us," Anoth announced to everyone, pointing down the tunnel he had been looking at. "Lights, that way."

"Could it be Thompson's party?" asked Ibin, now standing at the front. Hearing their words, Will suddenly felt ice running through his blood, and the urge to vomit immediately struck him. He had to lean on Aeric for support, and the later was taken aback when he felt his friend fall onto his shoulder.

"Could be," Anoth considered. "They've been missing, correct?"

"That could very well be them, on their way back. Or could be Rarik, maybe," Rikken suggested.

"Could be. The light's not moving, do you see?" Anoth pointed out, leaning over to Rikken. The latter leaned in, squinting as he tried to suss out the light's location again.

"I...uh-huh, it's still there," Rikken agreed.

"Maybe they see us?" someone up front suggested. There was now a tide of conversation at the front, as several people began suggesting courses of action or whispering amongst each other.

"Will, what's wrong?" Aeric asked, shouldering the burden that was his boyfriend.

"Those lights...it's the lights," said Will, struggling to speak. He was so overcome by fear now, a victim of his own paranoia, that he couldn't speak properly. Aeric now appeared very concerned, his cheeks blanching, and he looked as if he were trying to call to Ibin.

"If they see us, they might not recognize us," Rikken cautioned. "If it's our guy, we need to get him."

Anoth began to shout, cupping his hands around his mouth and yelling down the tunnel. His powerful voice reverberated throughout the cavern and echoed mockingly, dying out without a reply from the stranger down the road. The light apparently failed to move, as Anoth called to it again and again, repeating himself.

"I need to see," Will said weakly, forcing himself onto his feet and pushing past one of the adventurers. Aeric struggled to keep up with him, their progress stymied by the mass of men awaiting their orders. Ibin seemed hardly surprised to see them at the front of the line, and barely noticed them as they arrived. Will poked his head around the corner of the building lining the left side of the street and peered down the long, dark boulevard.

In the distance, perhaps five hundred feet down the way, a single, unwavering light hovered in the darkness. It did not flicker, nor did it move at all, but remained in position almost robotically, as if it were held within a sconce instead of a living hand.

"Will, are you okay?" asked Aeric breathlessly, struggling to reach his friend. Anoth continued calling to the light, inquiring of its name and then inquiring only of its nature. Rikken remained silent, his eyes fixated on the tiny light and the bubble of darkness surrounding it.

"I...know what that is," Will whispered, daring to stare at the tiny, unswerving light. It looked almost exactly like the one he had seen the previous night.

"They must be a damned fool," Anoth swore, finally exhausting his voice. "Well, he-"

"It's moving!" Rikken exclaimed, pointing at the light.

It took a moment for Will to confirm that it was, indeed, moving. For a fleeting moment it appeared stable, and then it began to shrink back into the darkness, retreating from them for some reason. Anoth called after it, and he looked torn about what course of action to take.

"Whoever it is, they are leaving us," Rikken announced, urgently pushing Anoth to action.

"Let's go, let's go!" Anoth shouted, starting down the empty boulevard by himself. It took a moment for the others, led by Ibin, to follow him as he ran.

"Will, what is that?" Aeric asked as they ran, struggling to keep pace with the athletic adventurers around them.

"It's not a person," Will answered, sucking in damp cave air as he gasped for breath. They were now nearly sprinting, following Anoth still. Aeric seemed to pale a little at that reply.

The column pursued the light with vigor, Anoth leading them as they made their way to the left and followed the boulevard. The light kept moving, always maintaining the same distance from them even though their pace quickened. Will, feeling sick and frightened, had little choice but to follow the group as they rushed ahead. It was either stick with them, or find himself isolated in the suffocating darkness, his only company being the sickly little candle he held.

The light began to twist and turn, traipsing around corners and maintaining a torturously unwavering distance between itself and its pursuers. After two minutes of solid turning, the light came to a halt, not fifty feet from them, in a dark intersection. And then, it simply vanished.

"Wait, wait, wait!" Ibin shouted, bringing most of the party to a halt. Anoth, bearing his lantern, rushed ahead to the intersection but found nothing but blackness, with no trace of anybody left.

"What the bloody hell," Rikken swore, standing halfway between Anoth and the rest of their men.

"If this is a trick, there will be hell to pay!" Anoth roared, turning to his party. His shout echoed into the distance, tapering off into a laughing phantom of his original speech. Nobody responded to him.

"What was that?" someone in the group asked, prompting a few people to begin whispering and casting shady looks from side to side.

"I know what that was," Will whispered, turning to Aeric. He wanted to vomit, and he felt his stomach begin to churn. He had no idea where they were now.

"That wasn't human, was it?" asked Aeric, sweating while inhaling fiercely.

"I...saw-"

"This was a waste of time," Anoth snarled, stomping back to his team. "We need to get back on track."

"Do you remem-"

"Of course I remember," he replied, snipping Rikken's question in the bud. "I know how to do this. We take a right, then a right, then a left, and then go straight for about three hundred meters…"

As Anoth began detailing their progress backwards, he moseyed his way through the cluster of men and began leading them once more, holding his lantern aloft for all to see. Will, not wanting to be caught at the back of the column out of paranoia, scurried through the fifty-seven men and made his way towards the front.

It was soon clear that Anoth had been mistaken in his calculations. They were entering new sections of tunnel, old stone streets that had not seen human feet in centuries. Anoth and Rikken were at the head of the column, trying to figure out where to go, but it was clear that Anoth was becoming lost and, behind them, Ibin was losing his cool.

"I swear we've been here!" Ibin exclaimed, throwing a hand gesture at one of the vacant, darkened buildings lining the street.

"That looks like the same damn house we saw two blocks back," someone added. "We are going in circles."

"We are not going in circles," said Anoth, clenching his jaw. "We...we are lost, yes-"

"That's our problem! Who cares if we go in circles!?" Ibin exclaimed, eyes wide with anxiety. Even from a little farther back, Will could see the lantern light reflecting in his eyes, and exposing a chilling sort of fear.

"What is your point?" Anoth asked, squinting.

"What does it matter?" cried Ibin, exasperated. "We're already lost! We've been led off track by that damned man!" He looked to be frayed at the nerves, and out of control.

"If I find whoever led us astray, I will kill him with my bare hands," Anoth promised, speaking to all. "We need to stay focused."

It was supposed to act as a morale booster, but it was clear every man's spirits had been dented. Five missing or dead, and now they were lost - isolated within the cavernous reaches of Dwer. They had to get back.

"We're going to try and make for the foundries, still," said Anoth as he plodded ahead, leading them past dark alleyways and dilapidated market plazas. "I will not make this expedition a bust."

"Is that really the best course of action?" Ibin inquired nervously.

"I do believe it is, yes," Rikken said, reassuring his underling. "Anoth...Anoth knows what he's doing-"

"I do not know where we are, but I do know that, if we follow this course, we will eventually hit the foundries," Anoth declared. "It is certain."

Will wasn't so certain. They were truly, truly lost now, wandering the abandoned stone catacombs for several hours. His feet were beginning to cramp, he couldn't help stave off his paranoia of what wandered the halls beyond the reach of his candle's light, and when they made the transition from lifeless cityscape to a single, lateral stone tunnel, he knew something had gone wrong. They were no longer within the city.

It was another hour before they reached something of interest. The long tunnel had gone in only one direction, bereft of any side passages or turns to throw them further off track. For a short moment, Will actually thought they had reached their destination - ahead of him, he could see a large, somewhat illuminated room, and wondered if that could be the foundries they were so desperately seeking. His hopes evaporated, however, as he passed across the threshold.

They found themselves in a great cavernous chamber, seemingly natural and hardly touched by mankind besides a single, dubious-looking stone walkway bridging the two sides of the room. The gap must have been at least two hundred feet across, and perhaps the same distance in depth; at the bottom, fresh water pooled, fed by a small, capricious waterfall that tumbled about fifty feet down the slick limestone cliffs of the basin. Will would have been in awe, but this was nothing like the great descent he had seen upon entry, or the Causeway. It was almost boring to look at, really.

"This doesn't look right," Anoth mumbled, looking up at the great stalactites hanging from the ceiling. They sparkled with wet dew and tiny fissures of glistering minerals.

"Where should we be?" Ibin inquired.

"Not here. This looks more like a real cave, not something sculpted," Anoth said. "A map would be nice…"

"Maybe we should take a rest. Get our bearings?" Ibin suggested, looking weary. Thankfully, Anoth seemed to appreciate his suggestion, and the company fanned out along the plateau on their side of the bridge. It was large enough to hold all of them, besides a couple of men who crossed the nerve-wrackingly crumbly walkway to explore the other side.

Lunch was brought out of wicker baskets and served to the team - cold cheese and hard bread was not particularly appetizing, but it would serve for the time being. Will, possessing very little of any kind of appetite, plodded over to the edge of the cliff and sat down, feet dangling precariously over the basin of sparkling, splashing water. It was oddly beautiful, the waterfall's flow careening wildly over ridges and carapaces bursting out of the rock walls, crashing down into the splashing, frothing waters of the basin and swirling amidst craggy stalagmites and smooth, whetted rocks. The ceiling's limestone exuded tiny rivulets of water from small cracks in its surface, wetting and dampening the walls, and small veins of shimmering minerals reflected the glow of the fifty lanterns and candles far below.

Aeric arrived not long after Will took a seat, carrying with him a chunk of bread and a few slices of pale yellow cheese.

"Will, what's up?" Aeric asked, plopping down beside him and handing him a slice of the cheese. Will rejected it.

"I know what those things were," he said, shaking his head and looking down into the basin. He felt ill even still, having left the light hopefully far behind.

"The light?"

"Yeah...maybe even lights," Will pondered, wondering if there was one or many. He couldn't see who had been holding it - only the light source itself.

"As in more than one?" Aeric ventured.

Will recounted the entire story of his encounter the previous night with the unusual phenomenon beyond the camp. From start to finish, he told Will everything, keeping his voice low to ensure that nobody else could hear him. It was imperative, at least in his mind, that nobody else besides perhaps Anoth knew about this - he was apprehensive about the possible transmission of paranoia.

"It's the same thing that I saw last night. The same kind of light, I promise," Will said.

"What do you think it is, though?" Aeric asked.

"It's not a person!" Will whispered fiercely. "I...I really don't know what it is. But who, or what, would lead us astray and try to deceive us like this?" It was impossible to believe they had been led astray by sheer unfortunate circumstances. The light, and whoever retained it, clearly possessed malevolent intentions.

"I don't know what it is," said Aeric, "but maybe it's nothing to worry about?"

"I don't know…"

"Why don't you eat a little?" Aeric suggested. "We're going to be walking a lot today and tomorrow, you need some food."

Will, unable to combat his unruly stomach any longer, accepted a chunk of Aeric's bread and nibbled on it moodily, his eyes fixated on the splashing water below him. The sound and the sight of the flowing liquid was nearly entrancing, in an unusual way.

They sat for another half hour, mostly suppressed by silence. Very few members of the group spoke - the most prominent sound was the water in the basin. A few more men proceeded to the other side and took a look around on the opposing plateau, but most stayed with Anoth until he rose, determined to move on.

"Maybe we are close to the foundries. One can hope," said Aeric, rising. Will had eaten a little cheese with his bread, but his stomach was still rebellious - he needed hot food, something proper and solid. His psychological distress, coupled with the exhausting task of traipsing through endless cavern tunnels, had taken a toll on him over the morning, especially without any good food. Breakfast had been meagre at best.

"Did you get enough to eat?" Aeric asked, finishing off what little food he had.

"I can eat later," Will brushed him off.

"You sure?" said Aeric. "I'm just trying to take good care of you, don't take it the wrong way."

"I'll be fine, Aeric," Will promised, with his usual assuaging smile. "Hopefully we'll reach our destination soon, eh?"

Aeric smiled back, returning the gesture eagerly. It was clear that he was trying to alleviate the atmosphere of anxiety.

The bridge looked more dubious than ever, laced with cracks and riddled with fractures and missing chunks. Time, and perhaps the flow of water, had clearly taken its toll on this once useful crossing, and Will felt nervous taking the first step. He had decided to cross over before the others did, out of a desire to stay at the head of the column. Anoth was ensuring everyone crossed in single file, to prevent any incidents, and Will did not want to be at the back.

"I'll be right behind you," Aeric promised as Will stepped out onto the crosswalk.

"Must we go this way?" asked Will, frowning as he considered the churning pool underneath his feet.

"Well, ah, any other ideas you have?" Aeric asked honestly. Will had no answer, and began the treacherous crossing, telling himself not to look down. The crash of water against rock below reminded him constantly to keep his eyes level with the other side. The journey ended quicker than he imagined it would, though; it wasn't thirty seconds before he was safe on the other side, standing on solid rock. Aeric had been right behind him the entire time.

"Wasn't so bad, hunh?" Aeric asked, teasing him a little.

"Well, if we have to come back…" Will muttered.

"I get the feeling we won't. There will be another way," Ibin chimed in, having just finished his own crossing. He looked a little more confident in himself now, having eaten and rested up. Perhaps he bought into Anoth's theory that, no matter which direction they were going, they would end up at the mighty foundries eventually.

"Well, what if there isn't?" Will posited, desiring an alternative.

"I'm sure we can come back the way-"

Ibin did not finish his sentence before the crack reverberated throughout the room. Stone grated on stone and pebbles splashed in the basin, and before Will could turn around the back half of the bridge separated. There were at least thirty men standing on that portion when it broke, and of those about half of them were able to sprint to safety before gravity seized control and brought the broken portion careening down.

Anoth just barely made it before the collapse occurred. Fifteen members of the party went down with the giant chunk of fragmented stone and disappeared into the churning waters below. They had little time to scream before they hit the rocks or the water's surface, and suddenly the commotion was silent. There was still one man on the other side, one who had not decided to cross the bridge. Now separated from the rest of the party, he stared at the other side, his lantern the only source of light remaining over there.

It had all happened within the span of ten seconds. Will could barely grasp the situation at hand as the survivors still on the bridge raced for the other side, shouting and yelling madly and crying for help. Everyone who had survived the initial incident made it, except the man in the back. He slipped on a wet spot, lost his balance, and tripped over the edge, falling without a scream.

It all happened so quickly. Nobody spoke for a moment after that, not even Ibin. Will was positively distraught - for a moment, he felt like he would collapse, and it took all his strength to force his legs to remain steadfast. He wondered if this was all some awful fever dream.

"Head count, head count!" Anoth shouted, taking command. Rikken set to work counting the survivors, while Ibin stood in place, stunned. Only moments ago he had exuded a sense of confidence more befitting of Anoth than anyone else - only moments ago, he had been optimistic about the outcome of their expedition. Now he stood locked to the damp stone, his face pale and mouth half-agape, still looking back at the blank space where a bridge had once been.

"We stand at forty-one," Rikken replied, voice wavering. "Forty-one, sir-"

"The only way is forward. We must continue," Anoth declared decisively. He looked pale and worried as well, but he retained his facade of order and command even under pressure. Will, shaken and rendered speechless by the recent events, was impressed by that show of confidence.

"Should we not say a word for them?" Rikken asked, frightened once more.

"Captain, captain!" the isolated survivor shouted, struggling to be heard over the waters below. He remained on the other side, alone and separated, and Will felt a pang of horror for his fate. He would be left to himself now.

"Make that forty," Ibin whispered under his breath, grimacing.

"We'll try to link up with you!" Anoth shouted to the other survivor. "Trace your steps back! We'll find you!"

"Where should I meet you!?" the man called, but he went unanswered. Anoth turned away from him and barked at the column to keep moving. No prayers for the dead, no last words for them - Rikken did not complain, though. Neither did anyone else. Everyone had been sobered by their losses, and were not inclined to stay any longer. They had suffered far too much, with no payoff.

Will had no choice but to move on with them. Aeric was silent as he walked by his side, and even the chattier members of the party were quiet as they marched on. Casting one last look back at the man they left behind, Will could swear he saw other candles conglomerating behind him, inching ever closer to the isolated bubble of light they were leaving.

He could have sworn he saw figures moving closer, too. He couldn't stare any longer, though, and looked away. He did not want to know the poor man's fate.

VVVVV

Shandra was not keen to return to Edgar Branch, but she had to. The little old prune demanded her attention, and he had been invaluable to her financial needs over the past few weeks. Eventually she would be rid of him, but for now he was a necessary asset.

She squeezed into his dimly-lit, smelly office in the depths of the treasury, not terribly eager to make a return. The wiry little weasel of a man was filing through papers once more, poring over parchment and scribbled notes at a furious pace. Shandra was hoping he could find what he wanted quickly; she wasn't intent on remaining for long.

"I have your money," he announced rather plainly, handing her a clean slip of parchment. Some final calculations had been done on it, and the final tally was listed at the very bottom of the page. The number surprised Shandra; they had a surplus.

"Is this honest work?" she asked.

"As honest as I could do, my lady," Branch replied, shifting his spectacles on his greasy nose.

"I am pleased," Shandra admitted, her eyes slinking back to the appeasing five-digit number down in the corner. "This is more than I needed."

"I performed a few cuts here and there," admitted Branch, sniffling a little. "It was necessary."

"I believe you," Shandra said, pocketing the parchment. "So long as this money is real-"

"I assure you, my lady," said Branch, "you will find it. I will work with you if you'd like."

"You could just do the work for me...you are financier, after all," Shandra suggested. Branch did not appear eager to argue, or reject the proposal - it was his job, after all, to crunch the numbers and report his work to Shandra later. He shrugged and nodded his head in response.

"I give you my blessings for whatever you must do," Shandra said, "so long as that money is secured and prepared for our upcoming festivities."

"I will get back to you tomorrow on what I have. I must work, if that is the case," Branch said, and without even saying goodbye to her he returned to his work, pulling out a dull little quill and jotting down a few notes. Shandra could no longer stand the smell of his office, and decided it was time for her to leave.

She wouldn't need Edgar Branch for long. She just needed that money dredged up, and soon.

He had one week to do it - given the work he had put in so far, she had no doubt he could accomplish the job. As long as he took care of everything before his untimely accident, everything would go just fine.

Sir Stephan was waiting for her. Standing at the entry door to the treasury, looking rather bored, the loyal knight nodded at her as she approached, acknowledging her presence wordlessly.

"Where is he now?" asked Shandra, turning to the knight as she pulled the heavy oaken door open.

"One of the city taverns," he informed her, "down by the River District. Anthony's, the place is called-"

"Not a place of repute, I know that. Stay close to me," Shandra ordered, sharply turning from him and departing the treasury room. He followed wordlessly, his shimmering little pendant clinking against his armor.

It was still early in the morning as they walked the streets at a brisk pace, heading for the grit and grime of the River District. Without guards standing sentry on street corners, the city felt empty and almost hostile, devoid of security. Shandra silently cursed Simeon's name for the thousandth time and proceeded to quicken her pace, wishing to take care of this dirty business all the sooner.

Anthony's was a small, dilapidated thatch and stone hovel that served ale and little else. The wooden timbers supporting the tavern's framework were rotting away, the planks of the building's facade were crumbling, and the door was riddled with pockmarks and termite damage - yet the building still stood. It looked absolutely downtrodden and depressingly squat, but it remained despite its state. Shandra made a mental note to never return after her business here was finished.

A few heads turned to acknowledge the new arrivals, but otherwise the tavern was silent and restful. It was mostly empty, too; besides a few drunks passed out in single booths, and a few quiet conversations ongoing in the back corner, the building was vacant, which Shandra was glad for.

"He'll be waiting for us in one of the private rooms," Sir Stephan informed her. "I've arranged this with the bartender, so we're good."

"Take me back," Shandra ordered, catching an unappreciated whiff of stale ale and sweat. Sir Stephan led the way back past the common room and down a narrow, dark corridor to where the private rooms were.

Their meeting room was a tiny place, barely fit for anything besides being used as a storage closet. A single table with a single dying candle decorated the room - there was only one rickety wooden chair, and it was already occupied.

"What's your name?" Shandra questioned.

"My name's not important," the man replied. "What's important is that you pay me, and I do my job. That's how this works."

"He's an assassin, of sorts. Marksman with a crossbow, is that correct?" asked the knight.

The unnamed man nodded his head affirmatively. He looked to be in his forties, with scraggly tan facial hair, a thick brow, sharp, pointed nose and protruding overbite. Heavyset and balding, he had the build of a brawler rather than an assassin.

"Have you been informed of your job?" Shandra inquired leerily.

"I know the rough details," the assassin said. "I was told I would receive my payment first, and then the minutia would come later."

"Pay him," Shandra ordered, wiping sweat from her forehead. Sir Stephan withdrew a small purse and tossed it across the table, where it landed in the assassin's greedy hands. The man pocketed the purse after a brief inspection of its contents, and he appeared rather satisfied.

"So you want a man dead. Where, when, and how?" he asked.

"The Keep Square, two in the afternoon, crossbow. Keep a low profile, find a hiding place, and don't let anybody catch you," Shandra ordered.

"Pure and simple. I like it," the assassin mused. "However...the man you want dead-"

"I am aware of the circumstances. What I need to know is, can you do it?"

"I can," he said. "Provided my security is ensured."

That one condition could be the ruin of her entire plan. She was considering disposing of the assassin once his job had been finished - no witnesses, no telltales, nothing to disrupt her. She could lie, of course, and promise him false security…

"I will ensure of it. Your safety is guaranteed," she promised. A promise she could break just as easily as one would snap a toothpick - she had the advantage here, not him.

"Then we are done here?" he inquired, looking eager to be out of the spotlight again.

"I need to know where you plan to be for the week, too," Shandra added. She could not risk him disappearing, not now that the payment had been delivered - she needed to know his whereabouts. He had a week to lounge around town before his day came.

"I will be around. I room here, I wander the city, I keep a low profile. Any problems?" he asked, laying out his simple agenda. Shandra paused and mused over the possibility of him lying, or of her being deceived - both seemed unlikely, and she trusted Sir Stephan's word. The knight had vouched for his skill.
"None," Shandra decided. "I expect to see you back here Saturday."

With that, they departed, leaving their little pawn now swimming in gold and enjoying his newfound job. Shandra did not dare speak with her escort until they reached the safety of the city keep, surrounded by armored knights keeping watch over the great plaza and the preparations being made for her festival.

"I do not intend to let him live," said Shandra as soon as they entered the empty assembly hall.

"I had the feeling you wouldn't…"

"He's too dangerous once the job's done. After he kills Branch, I want him disposed of," she ordered, plotting out the next week's events in her head. Things had to be done the right way.

"Must Branch die?" Stephan questioned.

"They must both die," she reiterated sternly. "Branch must die for martial law, and the assassin must die to keep him quiet. Clear, yes?"

"Clear, but maybe not the most sensible," Stephan mumbled, looking unusually perturbed.

"I didn't hire you to debate me," Shandra reminded him."I have something else in mind for you."

Sir Stephan waited patiently for Shandra to reach one of the conference rooms, where they were finally able to speak intimately and without outside observation.

"I need you to go down to B'aileth. It will be a long journey, I know," she informed him, handing him a small purse full of gold coins.

"What's there for me?" he asked.

"Nothing for you, but something for me," she replied. "I need a potioneer. And not one of those county fair hacks...a real potioneer. A brewer."

"And...you want me-"

"To find one. Anywhere. B'aileth is awash with dark and dangerous types, and that's exactly the kind of person I need. Can you do it?" she asked.

There was no way Sir Stephan could refuse the offer - it was his job to serve the High Lord and Lady, and he could not reject whatever they handed him. As apprehensive as he looked about the prospect of entering such a colorful and dangerous city, he accepted the job.

"You leave as soon as Branch and our little hireling are dead. Clear?"

He did not answer, only nodding his head. Shandra dismissed him and sat down to write out a eulogy for Edgar Branch. She needed more than one draft for something this important.

VVVVV

Matt ruminated on the notion of being an adult and, having considered it carefully and having applied some deep thought to the matter, decided he would rather remain seventeen forever, as cliche as it may sound.

He took another swig from the wine bottle and set it aside, deciding it was finally time to get up. Dawn had already risen above Stallhart and, being the liege lord of the little castle, he needed to be up and ready to tackle the day's tasks.

Sora had not yet returned, and he was afraid she would end up missing his birthday. To turn eighteen, and transcend adolescence into the realm of adulthood, was something Matt considered major, and he did not want Sora to miss it. She was likely asleep back on Earth, wherever she might be; one of Matt's days was but a mere hour for her. He was hoping that, in the three days before he finally turned eighteen, she would return to Stallhart and be there to celebrate with him.

There was certainly nobody else to celebrate with him. Throwing on some grubby clothes and exiting his quarters, he found nobody awake besides the local housemaid, Sarah Lancaster, and she was busy sweeping ashes away from the fireplace in the dining hall. Her vice-employer was nowhere to be seen, most of the guardsmen were likely off-duty today, and Sergeant Stellmeier had come down with a rather nasty stomach bug, which rendered him unfit to work or even walk. The castle, even on its gloomiest days, had never felt so lonely as it had that morning.

It took a lot of willpower to prevent himself from returning upstairs and taking another swig or two from the wine bottle. The warm, reassuring embrace of the alcohol calmed him, gave him energy, and seemed to dispel any black spirits that constricted him. Without Sora, he was nearly tempted to polish off what remained of the vintage bottle - however, he decided it would give him nothing but a raging hangover when the effects wore off. He opted to go without it, for the time being.

He had to pay a visit to the sergeant before he could do anything else. His morning routine would be relatively short - visit Stellmeier, visit Tolthor, speak with the scout - but it would likely be quite taxing. Stellmeier would be very ill, and the matter of Ablyn Cullen, the Thellden deserter who had expressed nothing but pure vitriol for his lieges, had to be handled carefully.

Stellmeier was resting in his bedchambers, on the basement level of the keep. The basement level, normally used for storage and for prisoners, also housed a small part of the guard force, as well as the sergeant, who apparently preferred dank and damp quarters to something perhaps more comfortable. Matt had the nagging feeling that the chilly atmosphere of the claustrophobia-inducing basement corridors was the underlying cause of the sergeant's sickness, but he could not be sure about that, and neither could Brudina Tolthor. They needed a real physician, not a herbalist - the latter could only make rudimentary cures and potions. A legitimate physician, or perhaps even a contemporary doctor, would be preferable.

The sergeant definitely needed something more than a few crushed herbs. His room stank something awful; when Matt opened the door, he was nearly overwhelmed by the odor of liquid feces and stomach contents. The sergeant lay on his cot, pale and lifeless, a bucket on one side and a jug of water on the other. A single retainer, a young woman no older than thirteen, sat in the corner, glancing nervously between the two men as Matt entered to speak with the bedridden commander.

"How're you feeling?" Matt asking, wrinkling his nose as the stench hit him again. The servant girl did not move from her chair as Matt approached his bed.

"Awful," the sergeant gasped, barely able to speak. He opened his eyes, and Matt could see life there, but the man was clearly wracked by his illness and was definitely unable to attend to his duties. The room was lit only by a single candle resting on the nightstand, one that cast an ominous aura over the ill man.

"I thought I'd come-"

"I apologize," he wheezed, struggling to summon his voice. "My lord...for the…"

"There is nothing to apologize for," Matt promised, subtly backing away a little to avoid any of the infection himself. "You are alright."

"Keep order," asked Stellmeier, wincing as he struggled to shift his body a little. Matt could barely stand the smell of the shit in the nearby bucket, and felt guilty for wanting to leave as soon as possible. The young servant girl could hardly be any good company, and the sergeant had been confined to this horrid chamber for two days. He needed a little human contact.

"Keep order?"

"Don't...let things...fall apart," Stellmeier said. "Take care."

That was all the withered old man could muster. He needed his rest, and Matt understood that his presence would do little to strengthen him - he needed to leave, and take care of the keep's duties by himself. That included keeping Castiron in his sights.

Teleraemon was preparing to depart for a scouting run, and Matt needed to give him some orders. He had to keep Castiron Hill under his watch - if they made a move, he needed to know.

"How's the Sergeant?" asked Teleraemon, fastening his scabbard to his hip.

"He's not looking good," Matt replied. "I'm afraid we're gonna have to work without him."

"Well, good thing that's your job, eh my Lord?" Teleraemon jested.

"That's not funny." Matt, hardly amused, walked with the scout out of the keep, escorting him through the keep's yard as they went about their duties.

"If you need me, I'm going to be at Brudina Tolthor's, just to check on the injured, and then I'm heading back here," Matt informed him. "I'm going to need you to stay around Castiron today, and maybe probe a bit."

"What should I be looking for?" Teleraemon asked.

"Anything suspicious or noteworthy," said Matt. "I don't like being taken off guard."

"Yeah, that's probably unpleasant. Probably," Teleraemon quipped.

"I'm hoping Ablyn Cullen can tell me something," Matt said, "but I still don't trust him yet. I'll talk to him today, and see."

"You should probably talk to Coggins, too," Teleraemon suggested.

"What about Coggins?" Matt asked, wincing at the mention of the missionary. They were entering the town now, heading down the dirt slope of the keep's hill.

"Well, I saw him earlier, after his daybreak sermon," Teleraemon replied. "Seemed quite upset and frightened, by the looks of it, although I chalk that up to the fact that he's a fucking loon."

"And is that supposed to be important to me?" Matt inquired.

"Well, it could be-"

"What business of mine is it?" Matt asked.

"The missionary just seemed rather concerned when I ran into him. Perhaps you ought to stop by, just to be safe?" Teleraemon suggested. Matt had little interest in speaking with Jonathan Coggins again, but the missionary could not be ignored, especially considering the following he had stirred up amongst the townsfolk. A man with such charisma and power as he, one who had converted dozens of agnostics within the span of a few weeks, could not be shrugged off.

"I will do so, afterwards," Matt decided finally.

"I will return by dusk," Teleraemon promised as they reached Brudina's place. "Don't have too much fun without me."

"Do we ever have fun here?" asked Matt. The question, rhetorical at best, went unanswered by Teleraemon. The scout hastily made his way for the town's gate, leaving Matt to enter the quaint little herbalist shop alone.

Brudina's shop was empty, besides Arthur the assistant standing behind the counter. He seemed a little less leery of his liege lord this time around, having gotten somewhat acquainted with him, and upon Matt's command he rushed into the back to retrieve Brudina. She hurried up to the counter quite quickly, eager to engage her overlord.

"How are they?" Matt asked after she had given her greetings.

"Nobody's going to die, that's for certain. I do like it when no one dies," she said, leading him back past the counter.

"What about Cullen?" asked Matt.

"Oh, him?" Brudina quipped. "Remarkable recovery...I keep his door double locked now, out of fear-"

"I'd like to speak with him, if I can," Matt said. The notion of a remarkable recovery, as she put it, was interesting. He needed Ablyn Cullen.

"Oh, well, I suppose I can't stop you," she said. "But just be careful, m'lord. He may be trouble."

"I can handle him," said Matt. Brudina handed him the keys and hustled off again, eager to organize her stock and tend to any injured. Matt undid the lock and made his way in, and he found Ablyn Cullen sitting on his bed, looking rather bored.

"You seem to be feeling better," Matt commented, closing the door behind him.

"Well, I won't lie, that's true," Ablyn admitted. He looked far more hale and hearty now, even though he was still supposed to be resting in bed. The injury had been cleaned, tended, and patched by Brudina Tolthor, and it looked as though the infection had nearly vanished from his body.

"Why'd you come here?" Ablyn asked after a brief silence.

"I need your help."

"You need my help?" said the man, as if surprised. "Mine?"

"You said yourself that you have no love for Thellden," Matt said. "And Thellden just happens to be my enemy."

"What would you have me do?" asked Ablyn, treading carefully. "And why should I trust you?"

Matt was at a loss to answer to that challenge. He realized, now, that he had to present himself as an unwavering authority figure - and he was failing.

"Because you have no other choice," Matt said, hoping it would be enough to move Ablyn. The latter did not flinch, but he did seem to consider the possibility.

"I have nowhere to go," he admitted. "This is true."

"And I have accepted you into my hold, despite your potentially dangerous nature," Matt reminded him.

"So what would you have me do?" Ablyn asked, becoming frustrated. "Am I to be a slave to you?"

"You have a choice in this," Matt said. "But I do need your help."

"Speak, then."

Matt spoke honestly. He needed Ablyn's help in not only managing Stallhart, but taking a stand against Castiron Hill. The Thellden stronghold, the only other castle in the county, was bound to cause more trouble soon - the attack on the innocent peat cutters down by the Roanshire bogs was likely only the beginning. Matt needed to act, and quickly.

"They will not accept any diplomacy from me," Ablyn warned him. "I am a traitor."

"That is why I am trying to accept you," Matt said.

"I will do what I can, but you have to trust me," said Ablyn.

"That is easier said than done."

Ablyn did not seem bothered. "Are we done here?" he asked, seemingly eager to return to solitude.

"For now," Matt said. "I will return tomorrow, and see if you can be checked out. If so, you will stay in the keep. Any concerns?" he asked.

Ablyn said nothing, but he bowed his head, inclining perhaps out of respect. Matt closed the door behind him and locked it with Brudina's keys. He was eager to get back to the keep and perhaps get some more to drink, maybe ease his worries a little. This, of course, was impossible when you lived in the same town as Jonathan James Coggins.

The missionary, followed by Teleraemon, was already making his way inside Brudina's shop when Matt was preparing to leave. Matt could barely believe his eyes when he met Coggins' gaze, and at that moment he wanted only to vanish without a trace.

"He pretty much begged me to take him here," Teleraemon grumbled, already attempting to leave. "He's all yours-"

Matt wanted to chew Teleraemon out for that, but he had no time. Coggins was already at the counter.

"My Lord, I heard you were here, your faultlessly noble servant told me you had business here, and, well…"

Matt silently reminded himself that he would curse Teleraemon later. The bastard had led Coggins right to him, without a second thought.

"You seem to have had an issue," Matt began, hoping this would be terminated quickly.

"It is that Delwin Saythe, my Lord, I swear it is," Coggins said, sweat beading on his meaty forehead as he spoke. "I know you've put me off about this before, but you must hear me out!"

Matt waited patiently, listening to Coggins' speech. Gritting his teeth and clenching his fists, he forced himself to stand there and hear the grievances being aired, all in the name of his noble title.

"He, personally, attacked me!" claimed Coggins. "All I did was ask him an honest question, something pertaining to my own sermon, and then he slapped me!" The man made vivid hand gestures to accompany his tale. "I inquired of him why he was being violent, and he tried to intimidate me into leaving town. I said 'I will not, sir!', and was rewarded with more violence!"

"Are there any witnesses to this?" asked Matt, suspicious. Coggins had stirred up quite a congregation in town, and Saythe may not like that. It was entirely likely that the Herobrinists, feeling threatened, were plotting behind Matt's back.

"Er...I'm afraid there are likely to be no witnesses, my lord," Coggins admitted, bowing his head. "My flock had already departed and I was simply minding my own business after the sermon when the attackers approached me. Unless some noble hidden Samaritan was watching the blows fall, I'm afraid I can produce no witnesses."

That admission was enough to give Matt trouble - Coggins and Saythe were clearly in some sort of conflict with one another. Although Matt suspected Saythe of stirring up more trouble, he didn't entirely trust Coggins either. If he had his way, both of them would be gone.

"There's probably nothing I can do for you," said Matt.

"My Lord, I know you have little witness, but I promise you, Delwin Saythe is a dangerous man!"

"What would you have me do?" Matt asked, leery.

"Punish him, my lord," Coggins insisted. "Punitive measures!"

"With no evidence presented?" Matt inquired, struggling with how he was going to handle this.

"You know him and his cult very well, my lord. He has every reason to strike at something he fears," Coggins warned. "I implore you, do something."

Coggins seemed to be in genuine fear for his life, given the tone of his voice; Matt suddenly felt pity for him, and realized if Delwin Saythe and his gang were to get away with this act of violence, they might be empowered to attempt something on a larger scale. Matt had always been uncomfortable with the cult's existence in town, despite Saythe's reassurances that they would be no harm - the temple had been stifling and unnervingly dark, and Saythe's flock seemed quite unruly. Despite the man himself being fairly civil, there was nothing civilized about his congregation.

"I will speak to him," said Matt, caving in to Coggins' demands. "But no more, until I have heard his story."

"God bless you, my lord," Coggins said. "I promise you, you will find something."

"I will not have any prejudices here," Matt warned him.

"You are a wise and noble man, my lord. I rest assured that you will take the correct course of action."

The corruptor was likely in his hidey-hole, underneath the tiny temple situated at the back of a dark, dirty alleyway. Matt, feeling rather vulnerable now he was alone, knocked on the small, flat wooden door, careful to avoid rapping on the symbols carved into the wood. It was a hot minute before someone opened the door, and he was greeted with the wild, unshaven visage of Abu Drusi ar-Raqqawi.

"Good morning, sir," Matt greeted him, wincing visibly at the sight of Raqqawi's tangled mane of hair and matted beard. "I need to speak with your...corruptor."

Raqqawi did not respond, but he did hold the door open to allow Matt entrance into the smoky interior of the squat temple. The smell of mildew and mold was stifling and Matt held his breath as he followed Raqqawi past the rows of crude pews, which held only two worshippers gazing rapt at the small, primitive idol standing on its pedestal at the head of the room. Matt felt as though those two white eyes carved into the statue were following him, and was quite relieved that Raqqawi had a mercifully quick pace. He left the stench of the worship chamber behind and entered Delwin Saythe's subterranean lair.

"Lord Cook visits," said Raqqawi, laconically introducing Matt into Saythe's office. The latter sat at his simple desk, looking over some letters by candlelight. He looked rather pleased to see Matt, and dismissed his lieutenant quite quickly, eager to get down to business. Matt, too, did not dawdle or waste time; he told his story, striking straight to the point, and gave Saythe a chance to defend himself.

"I spoke to Mr. Coggins this morning, yes," Saythe explained, but I was not violent nor physical with him."

"You did not strike him?"

"I did not do that, m'lord," Saythe said, without a hint of fear or panic in his voice. "It would be unnecessary. Herobrine did not will me to use violence to achieve his means, and therefore I did not."

Matt was nearly certain the man was lying; despite the lack of proof, he had a hunch that Saythe had, in fact, inflicted physical harm upon the missionary - or, more likely, had ordered his lieutenant to perform the dirty work.

"What proof can you give me? What evidence?"

"Ask any man or woman in this temple if I would strike a man without declaring corruption upon him," Saythe said. "I did not declare corruption upon Mr. Coggins, and I did not attack him. He is lying to you."

That was hardly evidence, or proof, but Matt was tired of pursuing the matter - he was not eager to become embroiled in whatever sort of feud the two had. Coggins was likely the victim in the case, but Matt was not about to declare him innocent; he would simply watch the Herobrinists more closely, and if Coggins claimed violence again, then he would know something was up.

"Is that all, then?" Saythe said, sounding disappointed.

"That is all. Good day to you, Mr. Saythe."

"And a good day to you, m'lord," Saythe replied. Matt stood up and left the dingy little office, but not before Saythe tried to accost him again.

"You should visit more often," he called. "I would be delighted to speak to you and perhaps explain the virtues of chaos!" He did not receive a response. Matt did not reply to him, nor did he even stop walking; he clambered back up to the ground floor and hurriedly made his way out of the temple, eager to be back to the safe confines of the keep.

Much of the day went smoothly after that, until Riley Eston approached him that evening. The keen diplomat, who had been keeping a low profile lately, had finally made her voice heard when she approached Matt in the hallway after sunset.

"Lord Cook," she said, bowing stiffly to him as they met. "I've been working, and thinking."

"As have we all," Matt quipped dryly.

Riley Eston frowned at that, but she continued with determination.

"We need to engage in diplomacy. I've heard the news from Skagway and Roanshire, about the attacks," Eston said.

"Yes, we're at war-"

"There may be a war going on, but we, as neighbors, can perhaps negotiate a ceasefire," Eston suggested. "There is no harm in that. Both will benefit."

"So, what do you want me to do?" Matt asked, wondering where she was going.

"I'm suggesting that you lead an envoy to Castiron Hill, and bring me with you," Eston said.

"You want to talk to the people who are actively engaged in trying to kill us?"

"That is what diplomacy is most of the time, yes," she replied.

Eston had a fair point. Matt wanted to avoid a war as much as the next guy - with Sora absent, dealing with Stallhart was bad enough as is. He didn't want to have to lead troops if Castiron Hill decided to launch an attack tomorrow.

"I think that's a good idea," Matt decided, with some tinge of uncertainty. He was definitely apprehensive about the notion of strolling up to his enemy's gate and asking for a little chat, but he couldn't deny that the act of diplomacy had some value to it.

"There are better ideas, and worse ideas," Eston admitted. "But we must try. Can we take this conversation to the map?"

She led Matt to the keep's quintessential topography room, hurrying at quite a brisk pace. Matt, following her silently, wondered where the fuck the diplomat had been all this time - he had not seen her around the castle. Had she been quite literally living under a rock ever since arriving?

Teleraemon was already inside the topography room, making small markings on one of the maps as he usually did. When he spotted the entrants, he bowed ever so slightly, expressing the most minute amount of respect possible as his lordship entered.

"My lord, I've been taking some notes and doing some observations, and I noticed some troops movements today. Unusual stuff," Teleraemon announced.

"We were just discussing that, in a way," Matt said.

"Ah, Castiron Hill seems to to be the main issue of the time," the scout said.

"For good reason," Matt said.

Teleraemon and Eston stood by him as he looked over the main map, his eyes wandering to the point demarcating Castiron Hill. He had never seen the keep before - apparently, unlike Stallhart, it was built out of carved stone, and its walls were too. That made it a far more menacing issue to be dealing with.

"The approach is pretty flat, and the castle is elevated. You'll have a difficult time establishing a perimeter, much less launching a siege," Teleraemon explained, describing the topography to Matt.

"A siege wasn't my intention," Matt said. Teleraemon seemed more interested in starting a war than extending an olive branch of diplomacy. That was why he had brought Riley Eston - the diplomatic attache could do what nobody else could.

"I suppose you intend to establish a dialogue?" Eston asked.

"As best as we possibly can," Matt agreed with her.

"I don't think that Lord Pendleton is much interested in talking," Teleraemon quipped. "He seems to be more interested in murdering peat cutters."

"I believe it's worth a shot," Matt said. "Is it?" He turned to Eston for that answer. She seemed to be pondering the possibilities presented to her.

"I agree, but you ought to let me do the talking. We must tread carefully with this matter," she finally decided.

"Aye," Matt agreed. "Teleraemon, I'll expect you to come with me."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," the scout said.

"And Lord Steadwin?" Eston asked.

That gave Matt pause. Avery Steadwin, the pretentious little heir to this shitty little castle town...now what kind of trouble could that bring?

"Lord Steadwin...ah…"

"No offense, Lord Cook, but Lord Steadwin is the rightful claimant on Stallhart. You simply serve as a regent," Eston reminded him.

"So you want him to come with us?" Matt asked.

"It can't hurt," Eston said.

"Well, it can, in a few ways...ah, I can think of at least a dozen," Teleraemon said. Nobody heeded his joke.

"He will come with us, but you will do the speaking. I will not have him engage unless you give him permission," Matt decided, hoping to dodge any problems with that kind of declaration.

"I will use my discretion in that matter," Eston promised.

I hope for all our sakes that you know what to do, Matt thought. Riley Eston was a diplomat, yes, and she knew how to bend and manipulate words to her whim better than anyone else - but Avery Steadwin was dangerous. He was prone to becoming heated when engaged, and that could spell trouble if he were part of the envoy to Castiron Hill.

"Will you tell him this, then?" Matt asked as they prepared to disengage.

"Tell him...what?" Eston asked.

"That we're bringing him along?"

Riley Eston provided him with a curious look, one of surprise.

"I figured you would do that, my lord," Eston said.

"I'd prefer not to," Matt admitted, feeling a bit guilty for that. "For reasons."

Riley Eston did not question him. She picked up on his implications, and turned away, off to bring the news to Avery Steadwin. Matt wanted no interactions with the rebellious teenager, and would avoid him as much as possible - it was simply too much work to try to build a relationship with Avery Steadwin.

He needed more to drink before he could even begin to try.

VVVVV

As it was customary, Sora started her day with four Advil and a hot, steamy thirty minute shower, courtesy of Arianna's wonderful bathroom. The pain pills kicked in by the time she was finished cleaning and, after dressing and saying goodbye to the three girls, she departed for the city with Yu Jin by her side. They would stay the night at Yu Jin's house, and then head for Dan's place the next morning to return to the sim.

"Smells like rain," Yu Jin said, making small talk as they strolled past some of the impressive mansions of Redmond.

"Welcome to Seattle, eh?" Sora replied.

"I almost forgot how much it rained here," said Yu Jin. "Like, every day, pretty much."

They caught the bus into Bellevue and made for the business district, which played host to a variety of cafes, coffee shops, clothing stores, and miniature malls. Having been trapped within feudal hell for weeks, Sora was almost happy to be returning to a different kind of hell, this one consumerist and capitalist. The bright neon lights, crowded parking lots, and busy highways were a welcome sight after endless months of thatch houses, stone walls, and marching armies.

They found their way to the nearest Starbucks, a haven for teenagers seeking the delicious luxury of free wi-fi, and ordered a few drinks before finding a comfortable place to sit.

"We need to return by noon tomorrow, I think," said Sora as they adjusted themselves into the booth adjoining the cafe window.

"That soon?"

"Well, yeah...remember how fast time flies in there?" said Sora.

"I mean, can't we afford to stay another extra day?" asked Yu Jin, looking troubled.

"It's already been almost two weeks there. That's a long time, Yu Jin," Sora reminded her.

"Yeah, but...do we have to leave so quickly?"

Sora frowned at the notion of staying for much longer, but her attitude perked up again when their drinks were prepared and they were able to indulge in the bliss of caffeinated mochas. For all of its consumerist propaganda and disgustingly capitalist schemes, Sora adored Starbucks simply because she adored mochas.

"Can we at least get some boba and tea before we leave?" asked Yu Jin.

"Ehhh, maybe," Sora pondered. "I want to get to your house quickly. I'm not keen on staying out too long."

"Soraaaaaa…"

"Ugh, are you really gonna do that to me?" she said.

"A little more time here can't hurt you. What's the big deal?" Yu Jin asked, sipping her drink carefully.

Sora had to admit, she did have a point - a little more time shopping and meandering, nothing important at all, could help ease her stress and relax her aching body. She could see her parents one last time, although she doubted that it would be a good idea; they would be horrified at the notion that she was returning, even though she could legally do so.

"You're quite convincing," said Sora, rolling her eyes at her as she developed a big grin on her face.

"We've missed a lot, and we need to catch up," Yu Jin said, now excited. "Music? Books? Any of that? Let's go!"

"It's worth checking out. Not too long though, okay?" Sora warned her. That seemed to cheer Yu Jin up a little. She hastily finished off her drink as they prepared to hop across the parking lot to the local bookstore chain.

It had been a long time since either of them had seen a book not bound in leather and made of parchment. The freshest, most popular titles in thrillers and young adult fiction were presented at the front of the store, while an endless assortment of other genres filled the room from front to back. Sora eagerly dived in and explored while Yu Jin remained fixated on one particular subsection, quite disappointingly.

"Hunger Games is dead, Yu Jin," Sora reminded her.

"Not to me!" she declared triumphantly. "If Collins is still writing, then-"

"It's not even Collins anymore. Some trash kid who ghostwrites. Don't get your hopes up," Sora said.

"As long as they make a movie, I'll be happy," Yu Jin said, stubbornly refusing to tear herself away from her favorite titles. Sora knew buying something would be pretty pointless, but she settled on what looked like a cute little romance novel, minimalistically decorated and no longer than a hundred pages. It looked like an intriguing and heartwarming story, but the poem on the inside flap was what caught her eye.

I would rather be ashes than dust!

I would rather that my spark should burn out,

in a brilliant blaze than it should be stifled by dry-rot.

I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom

of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet.

The function of man is to live, not to exist.

I shall not waste my days trying to prolong them.

I shall use my time.

The poem struck some chord with her, of what she could not say. It was almost haunting, the way the words were utilized and laid out on the page - 'Jack London's Credo', it was called, and Sora immediately desired to purchase the book, if only for that little poem.

"You chose that?" exclaimed Yu Jin, bemused by Sora's choice of literature.

"It looked interesting. It's got a cool poem-"

"Yeah, but it looks like a boring old romance book," Yu Jin scoffed at her. "There's much better stuff out there."

"I like it, and it's cheap," said Sora."Let's go checkout. I feel like we're wasting time."

Yu Jin did not stall any further and they purchased their books rather quickly. She had picked up half a dozen young adult novels and popular thrillers, which was just fine - Sora would settle for her beat up little novella.

They caught the bus just before noon, rendering them on their way to Yu Jin's house. Sora had never seen the inside, or the outside - or anything of Yu Jin's, really.

"Are you eager to get back tomorrow?" asked Sora as they took their seats and the bus, relatively empty at this hour of the day, took off.

"No, fuck that," Yu Jin said. "I mean, I suppose I have to, being employed and all…"

"Hey, I'll treat you good," Sora promised with a smile. "Feudalism sucks, man. Don't let the system get you down."

"Easier said than done, huh?" said Yu Jin.

The bus hit a pothole and jarred both of them into silence, which held for a brief several seconds before Yu Jin, looking a little jittery, spoke again.

"You eager to get back to him?"

"Who, Matt?" said Sora. She had zoned out briefly and wasn't paying attention when Yu Jin spoke again.

"Well, yeah," she said. "I suppose...you kinda missed him?"

"It's only been a day and a half, really," Sora said. "He'll miss me more than I miss him."

"Yeah, ah, I suppose," Yu Jin agreed.

"What's up?" asked Sora, noticing something amiss. "Why'd you ask?"

"I was just curious," she said, sounding a little defensive. "I don't know...how you two…"

"There's no major problems," Sora said. That, of course, was a lie - but they could deal with the truth about their relationship at a later date. "He's a good fit for me."

"That's kind of surprising, actually!" Yu Jin exclaimed.

"Oh yeah?"

"Well, yes," Yu Jin continued. "In all honesty, he just...he just didn't seem like your kind of guy, when I first heard about him, ya know?" She was starting to blush, and seemed to be regretting her conversation.

Sora wanted to prod her forward, if only to try and understand where she was going. "I think I follow," she said, after a brief and awkward pause. "Please, go on."

"No offense-"

"None taken, but I want to hear what you're trying to tell me," Sora said. She was feeling a little uncomfortable, but she could handle that for now. Yu Jin seemed hesitant to continue, but she did so while lowering her voice to prevent any eavesdropping.

"He strikes me as dangerous," she admitted.

"Matt? Dangerous?" scoffed Sora, rolling her eyes at the prospect.

"Well, he's...kind of troubled, isn't he?" Yu Jin asked.

"Sort of, but dangerous?" said Sora. "He wouldn't hurt a fly unless he sat on it."

"Hah, well, I suppose…"

"You don't have to be concerned about him. I have him under control," Sora promised. That wasn't entirely true, either; the lies were beginning to stack up there. She felt uncomfortable about telling untruths to Yu Jin, but she didn't want to delve into the complications of her relationship at that instant.

"Why are you worried about him?" asked Sora, probing further. Yu Jin had given up her questions rather quickly, but she didn't hesitate to answer.

"Oh, well, I guess it's 'cause I worry about you," she said.

"There's nothing to worry about, Yu Jin," Sora reassured her.

"I just want to make sure you're safe and comfortable," said Yu Jin. "That's...that's all."

"I do appreciate it," Sora thanked her. "But rest assured, we're doing fine."

Matt was certainly struggling to adapt to his new residential life in Stallhart, and to his administrative role as well. Sora didn't know the details behind his ascension to the regency of the tiny castle, but she couldn't imagine how anyone would assign Matt some sort of leadership title - he had enough difficulty managing his own personal life, bless his heart. It was bad enough that he had attached to alcohol as a means to relieve his stress at the end of the day; she did not want to consider what kind of vices or issues lie ahead. It was easier to lie and say she had the situation under control.

The bus arrived within the next minute at its designated stop. Yu Jin's house wasn't far; they only had to walk a few blocks.

"Once we're back inside, we'll have to resume our roles. But only for public show," Sora reminded her.

"Must we?" asked Yu Jin, mildly disappointed.

"Unless you want to stay here, we must," said Sora.

"I...suppose, yeah," Yu Jin said, sighing in defeat. Playing the servant was not easy, and was not pleasant at all; Sora felt a pang of pity for the poor girl, who was being forced into a predesigned role that certainly would not be fitting for her.

"You'll do fine," Sora promised, placing her friend's palm on hers. "Given the first chance, we'll break out of there and go somewhere else." Yu Jin smiled at the gesture and held her hand all the way to her house.

They had one last night in Seattle together - they had to make the most of it. Sora was already missing Stallhart, in a weird way.

VVVVV

They camped that night in a smaller, but still sizeable chamber. Wherever it was, they were clearly not in the foundries like they were supposed to be.

The walls looked more natural and, in the stead of the smooth, chiseled stone they had seen earlier had been replaced with rough, unhewn limestone and porous rock. They had wandered for hours after the bridge collapse, and it was clear now they were unable to find their way back. Anoth had continually insisted they were on the right track, and that they were just on a roundabout way back, but by the time the group had found a chamber to camp in, it was obvious that Anoth was wrong.

Nobody had questioned him yet, though. Everyone was silent with trepidation, unwilling to assess or question the situation until their leader had spoken - for his part, Anoth was consigned to his tent, bickering fiercely with Rikken about what course to pursue next. Sitting by the dying fire, Will was unable to discern most of what he was saying, but the gist of the conversation was clear.

They were definitely lost.

Ibin stoked the dying fire as best he could, but the task proved to be impossible; they were out of sufficient fuel, and without anything beyond chips and twigs they could not have the roaring fire they wanted. He essentially gave up after half an hour.

"They do not know where we are," said Ibin after some period of silence. "That is the worst part. Anoth and Rikken continued to argue, but their voices were softer and more hushed now. A blanket of apprehension covered the entire camp, and many men had already ensconced themselves within the relative safety of their tents, unwilling to face the vast world of darkness outside their bubble of light.

"I would be alright with not knowing where we're going. But not knowing where we are, that's different," Ibin continued.

"I think we should get to bed," Will suggested. "What else can we do?"

"Nothing."

The question had been rhetorical, but Will was in no mood to point that out. Endless hours of traipsing hopelessly through tight corridors and winding cave tunnels left him fatigued and eager for rest. Their situation looking more and more desolate by the hour, he had no wish to stay up any longer.

He slept for a few hours before movement in the tent woke him. Will roused himself quickly, thinking there was some sort of danger, and he turned towards Ibin's sleeping bag to rouse him. Ibin, however, was gone; it was Aeric who had been shuffling on his left side, and in the darkness Will could barely make out the boy's form. He was sitting upright in his sleeping bag, staring out of the entrance of the tent. Will was vaguely aware the tent was open and became suddenly alarmed at the notion of his tent being exposed to the darkness. He sat up and began struggling to extract himself from his wrappings.

"Aeric-"

"Do you see them?" Aeric asked, speaking in hushed tones. He motioned to the front of the tent, and beckoned Will's eyes to some indeterminable point in the black distance. It took him a minute to rub the sleep away and focus, but Will could see them - four lights, distant and twinkling, and unmoving.

"Yeah, I see them," Will said, whispering in return. He waited with bated breath to see if any of them moved, or reacted to either of them. They did not.

"I couldn't sleep, so I sat up and…"

"There they were?"

"They've been there for a little while. Maybe ten minutes," said Aeric. Heart pounding, Will felt his his chest tighten as he watched the little shimmering beacons, suspended high above them. Even after taking two men, they were not satisfied - they yearned for more. Whoever they were.

"Aeric, they aren't human," Will said, unable to peel his eyes from the sight.

"I've figured that much," Aeric said, also fixated on the distant strangers. "What do you think they are?"

Will could not begin to say what they were, or who. They were almost certainly not human, given their behavior so far, and they seemed to have some kind of predatory purpose. Beyond that, Will was at a loss - the fact that they were isolated and lost compounded his fear and apprehension.

"Go back to bed," Will told him, unable to suss out any other possible course of action. Leaving the tent was not an option, according to him.

"Hunh?"

"Let's just go back to bed," said Will. "Don't go out of the tent."

"What if they're-"

"It's not worth it," Will whispered. "If we leave, we'll-"

"Where's Ibin?"

Will quickly realized Ibin had been absent this entire time. He stole another glance over at the empty bedding, and a sudden rush of fear coursed through his veins. Ibin, ever the trustworthy but cautious junior leader, had almost been a confidant of Will's throughout the journey - where Rikken was a yes man and Anoth was too haughty, Ibin was grounded and moderate in comparison. Will had become slowly attached to him, and wondered if Ibin, in a fit of foolery, had followed the lights.

"You don't think…?"

"He wouldn't do it," Will said, pondering the possibilities he had. Close the tent up, go back to sleep, and ignore the lights? Seek out Ibin? Leave the tent and seek safety at the central campfire? He was pondering each potential answer when he heard the voices.

For a brief moment, he wondered if the enigmatic lights were now speaking to him, but then he recognized Ibin's voice. Muffled and muted, yes, but undeniably belonging to Ibin. Will tried to triangulate it and realized it was coming from the center of the camp, likely the campfire.

"He's still here," Aeric said, noting the hushed voice.

Will noticed the lights were retreating now, disappearing into the darkness; not because someone was chasing them, though. Unless someone else had impetuously dashed out into the gloom in pursuit of them, they were leaving of their own accord, oddly enough. Will felt quite uneasy as the glow disappeared and, disoriented and sleepy, he stumbled out of the tent and made for the center of the camp, all the while ignoring Aeric's fiercely whispered demands that he remain inside.

Ibin and eight others were gathered near the fire, packing supplies and vials of lantern oil into their knapsacks. One of them was stirring the fire a little, and another was stuffing twigs and chaff into a small bag. They were all rushing, and Ibin overlooked the entire operation, watching them uneasily. Ibin started when Will approached but it was only brief.

"Will," Ibin acknowledged him calmly as he approached.

"What's going on?" Will asked, still groggily sloughing off the veil of sleep.

"We're packing up and leaving," Ibin said. "Striking off on our own."

"For real?"

"Does it look like we're playing around?" Ibin asked, referring to the work proceeding at a furious pace. Everyone was pilfering supplies from the main group and stuffing their bags full - notably with plenty of lantern oil and food.

"You're stealing," Will noted, glumly looking at all the supplies being stuffed away.

"It's necessary," Ibin explained. "I didn't want to do this, but we must."

"Isn't this all so...unwarranted?" Will asked.

"Unwarranted?" echoed Ibin. "Hardly unwarranted. Look at where we are. Look at what happened. Ask yourself, what's going to happen?"

Ibin did have a solid point. Despite only being in Dwer for two and a half days, their situation was already becoming bleak - lost, isolated, wandering aimlessly, and hunted by some strange entity that could very well be the cavern itself. For two and a half days, they had reached a fairly low point. Ibin's fears were certainly legitimate.

"So you're just breaking?"

"Breaking and running," Ibin answered honestly. "We've lost faith in Anoth."

"Aye, lad. We're lost and separated from the rest of the world, and Anoth ain't helping," someone else chimed in.

"Isn't there anything-"

"We're given up on Anoth," another man interrupted. "He's too hardheaded and stubborn, especially 'cause he thinks this is too big to give up on," another man interrupted. He had finished packing his own bag and hefted it onto his shoulders decisively. "We think otherwise."

"He was arguing with Rikken earlier. He intends to press on, even if he has no idea where he is," Ibin said. "We're striking out. Are you with us, or not?"

Will was at a junction now. He was faced with a difficult decision that he had not anticipated, and had to mull over the options at a lightning fast pace. Could he guarantee the decision he would make would be the best one? Of course not, but he didn't have the time - already they were staring him down, awaiting his answer.

"Well?" asked Ibin.

"Speak, boy," someone else impatiently demanded.

"I need one minute," said Will. "I must get Aeric."

"One minute. But no more," Ibin promised, looking eager to leave. Given that Anoth could wake at any minute, having perhaps heard the ruckus around the campfire, it was imperative to take off as soon as possible. On softest feet, Will dashed back to the tent to rouse and retrieve Aeric. There was no time to convince or persuade him to go; he had to go.

"Will-"

"Aeric, we need to leave," Will insisted, wasting no time on formalities. He grabbed what few possessions he had, and began rolling up his sleeping bag.

"Wait, what?" Aeric asked, still sounding drowsy.

"We need to go, now," Will reiterated. "We're in danger, and we have to leave."

It was the best story Will could compose on the fly; he had to persuade Aeric somehow.

"In danger, from them?" Aeric ventured. "Where's Ibin?"

"He's leaving, we have to go with him," Will said. "Now!"

"Will-"

"Now or never!" Will hissed. Something in his tone of voice made Aeric's mind up, because the boy leapt to his feet, grabbed his sleeping back, and rushed out of the tent after Will, careful not to make a sound.

The nine were still gathered at the fire, anxiously waiting for the boys to return. A few of them started walking once Aeric and Will appeared in sight; Ibin, quite kindly, waited for them until they were in earshot.

"We don't have much time," Ibin whispered. "We ought to move. We're going to try and cut right and make our way back around to the corridors we were in before."

"I know roughly which way we're going," "With some luck, we'll be back to the Second Level Plaza by dawn."

Will wasn't sure if he could be trusted - but there was no turning back now. He had made his decision, almost nonconsensually. When Ibin turned and began walking, making a brisk pace after the others, he followed, even though something in his head begged him to stay. Lighting his lantern, he proceeded to follow the others single-file into the darkness, with Aeric picking up the rear right behind him. Will did not dare look back at the dying light of the campfire, or the cluster of tents around it.

He felt a pang of pity as he realized that the eleven of them had taken almost all of the remaining lantern oil.