Chapter 17

17

Steel and Shadow

Erebus, The Spire

Their arrival at the Spire was not announced. Neither were there any celebrations planned. It was a private occurrence and Cyril doubted his arrival warranted a full on guard anyway. He may have been an agent of the First Founder but what was he in comparison to a King? Cyril followed Cheramie in, as Sebastian had business to take care of in the castle town of the Spire.

"Snake." Cheramie hissed as Sebastian departed. She then gave a stern look at Cyril. "Follow me, Hunter."

What the hell was that? Cyril followed the housecarl, obviously surprised at not just Sebastian's sudden departure but Cheramie's hostility when he left. The Hunter was in deep with whatever games the nobles were playing. Did the King know? Or was he fully unaware of his own Seneschal playing around behind his back?

Cyril shook his head. He asked. "What is going on here?"

Cheramie's reply was grave. "The King can answer that question fully, but know this; the court he inherited from his father is a scheming den of vipers. Your arrival has caused… issues."

The Hunter allowed Cheramie to round on him. "Did you think that your reputation would be stellar?" She asked him curtly. "Many do not consider you a human but rather as a weapon, Hunter. I do not like what you do, there are stories of what you did in Lescatie and there are stories of what happened in Sheffield. Such heavy handedness will not occur on my watch. Not against my King."

"I am not here for that." Cyril said, neutrally although he had held in his irritation. "Whether you believe me or not is a concern that I will not deal with. I am here because I was called by the King, according to the First Founder. She told me there was a problem that he wanted solved."

Cheramie scowled at him but she nodded. "We need to see His Majesty then…" She said.

"Aye," Cyril agreed with her, "We need to see His Majesty."

Cheramie kept walking. "You should be wary, Hunter." She spoke ominously. "Many who are in power may seek to use your presence here to further their agendas, and some of those agendas are not something I would put my name towards."

Cyril sighed. As it always was with politicians. Still, he'd play along for now. Often times if you allow someone to think you are manipulated it is easy to get them to make mistakes in return. An advantage only lasted as long as someone was willing to take advantage of it.

Arrogance tended to blind even the greatest Hunter.

Cyril learned that lesson in Yharnam too and it was one of the precious few he was grateful to learn.

The inside of the throne room was solemn, and almost empty save for the row of armed guards that lined the path to the King's throne. Cyril saw that the great chair was empty, he then looked around. There were no nobles here to bicker and gossip. Either they were all indisposed or something else was going on. The stained glass windows depicted ancient warriors in furs and leather battling against monsters.

It was said that the world's monsters had once been terrible beings, all led by the former Demon Lords who concentrated on killing instead of mating. It was only thanks to the current Demon Lord that the world had changed into such a state. Cyril supposed that things hadn't really changed that much; humanity always managed to get the short end of the stick when the cosmos and the divines were involved.

Cyril then turned his attentions to the rest of the throne room, and noted the guards standing at attention. There were ten of them, all dressed in plate and mail with cloaks. Their helms hid their faces completely although Cyril had no doubts that the men were watching him closely.

The Hunter was surprised that he was allowed to keep his weaponry; he had honestly expected to be disarmed considering that he was so heavily armed, but Cheramie put a stop to that citing his status as an agent of the First Founder and ruler of Sheffield. Cyril noted the guards' armaments as he did so. Axes were a standard here it seemed, certainly they were cheaper than swords. The guards wore chain mail and heavy leather armor. They bore round shields and short stabbing spears. Wary eyes were on him, especially on his own gear.

Cyril kept his eyes straight ahead as they heard voices.

"You seem to believe me a craven, Martin. To suggest that I allow someone else to care for my sister is unseemly of you."

"My liege, I only request that you think about your health. Lady Sallya is ill. The last attempt to kidnap her did much harm… I only ask that you allow the doctors to-"

Cyril's first impression of King Samael the Thirteenth was concern… He was a boy, hardly out of his teens and barely into his early adulthood. Lean and short, his features were sharp and almost like a girl's but if one had a closer look there was steel in him. And a weary acceptance of the burdensome crown that sat upon his head. Dressed in a simple tunic, robe and pants one would have assumed that Samael was a monk were it not for the regal bearing he afforded himself and the simple, yet well made crown that sat upon his dark hair.

Samael held up his hand to the man speaking to him. He seemed to have the robes of a priest but Cyril saw no discernible marks that gave away his allegiance. Maybe he was an Order priest? Cyril quietly restrained himself from acting out. Martin had no zealotry in his eyes, but there was stress in the man's demeanor.

"My apologies, Father Martin. We will have to continue our… discussion later." Samael's voice was hoarse, but still held an authority that would have surprised those who underestimated him.

Martin looked unsatisfied and even more dejected but he bowed and got out of the way.

Samael turned his attention to Cyril and Cheramie. Dark violet eyes gazed down at Cyril. He wondered if he was fully human but that was an impossibility if his mother was a monster, for all of their children inevitably ended up female.

"My liege, may I present the Agent of the First Founder…" Cheramie took a knee which should have prompted Cyril to do the same. She hissed at the Hunter who stepped forward.

"Good. A man with backbone." Samael commented. He glanced at Cheramie, arching a brow. "Stand, Cheramie. We all share equal purpose here."

Cheramie did so, throwing a dirty look at the Good Hunter that he quietly ignored in favor of keeping his attention locked on King Samael.

"You are the Moon Scented Hunter." Samael remarked stoically. "Also known as the Butcher of Lescatie and the Breaker of Priests."

Cyril blinked. "That last one is new to me." He said to the young King honestly. He was not one to keep ostentatious titles. The Good Hunter didn't need them, for it was his belief that actions spoke louder than words.

Samael's smile did not hold any humor in it. Martin's expression was neutral but there was a heat in his eyes. Samael continued speaking, "Let me make things clear, Hunter. I do not forgive betrayal. This country, the family that I have left and its people are all that matters to me. The distinction between human and monster is not something I think of every day. Crimes here are punished, regardless of who commits them."

He glared down at Cyril with dark violet eyes. "That includes you."

Cyril shrugged. He did not say that Samael would pay a price if they started fighting here. "As you wish, Your Majesty." He replied neutrally.

Samael leaned back in his chair tiredly. "I admit that I expected a more bombastic personality coming from a man of your reputation." He remarked, "Your bloody deeds are coming to light and yet here you stand with neither arrogance or fear. You act as if nothing fazes you."

"… The Black Dragon said the same, Your Majesty." Cyril stated calmly. "Now what exactly am I doing here?" He asked the question directly, his tone would have been considered impolite but he supposed Samael did not dither around with niceties when bloody work needed to be done.

Samael smirked. "To business then," He spoke. "As Cheramie may have no doubt told you, and that snake Sebastian has made clear through his actions, my court is full of venomous conspiring snakes. The Order has its foothold here, a small foot I might add, and all the while monsters have trickled in to take the men of the village folk away from their homes."

The King of Erebus held no humor in his demeanor. Cyril could see that in his eyes. "Slavers and marauders have made their home here and much to my dismay I cannot act directly against them due to other problems within my court. Your task, should you choose to accept, is to unmake these criminals who dare to bring harm to my people."

"My lord…" Martin started up but Samael would not hear him on this course of action, so he stepped back shaking his head.

"As I said," Samael continued, speaking over Martin's objections, "I want you to unmake them. Scatter these vermin to the four winds, and if you succeed at your task you will be rewarded for your services to Erebus and her people."

Cyril no doubt predicted that it won't be that simple. Either Samael was going to stab him in the back or someone else was. He looked at Martin briefly before his eyes settled on Samael's own. The Hunter gave a nod, accepting the task he was given. He was going to hunt slavers, all the while taking precautions against whatever politician wanted his skill-set for their own use.

Pity the poor bastard who would try though, Cyril did not make any distinction in social class. He killed anyone who came at him with lethal intent.

Samael returned the gesture. "Cheramie, show our guest his new quarters." He said. "I am afraid I must cut this meeting short, as I have much to attend to…"

"Brother…"

It was a soft voice, weary but like a small bell. Samael's eyes closed, the King was obviously in pain when he heard whoever this woman was calling.

Another maid, this one the twin to Cheramie save for her blonde hair and lighter shade of fur, walked in from the hallway to the right side. She was pushing a wheelchair in which sat a young woman clearly ill. She was practically skin and bone, she wore a dark robe and a bonnet kept her curly hair in place. Cyril saw Cheramie glaring at her fellow Kikimora, who shook her head silently communicating that this was definitely not her idea.

Samael sighed and stood up. "Guards, leave two here. The rest of you are dismissed."

The guards bowed their heads and made an about face, marching out of the throne room. Two guards took their places at the door way.

They were alone. Samael walked down to the ill young woman. "Sallya, I asked you to stay in bed." The young king knelt in front of the younger woman, "You are still far too ill to be wandering around the halls."

"I have strength for this, brother," Sallya said, smiling. Unlike Samael her eyes were gentle and her voice kind and even with whatever infirmary she suffered the frail princess seemed to have great inner strength within her. Cyril didn't wrinkle his nose; his sense of smell had been far sharper than any other ordinary humans, but he did not forget the stinging smell of poison when she spoke.

Whatever happened to this princess in the past… it wasn't pleasant. However, the Hunter could see strength in her frail form, a strength that would no doubt speed her recovery. Whether she would recover to full health was another story for someone else to tell. Still, it hurt to look at this young woman brought down by treachery. No doubt she seemed to have once been someone seen as a strong yet kind personage despite her lofty position.

"I am Sallya, Master Hunter." Princess Sallya introduced herself, looking deep into his eyes, "I hope that this country has been kind to you, I fear that the circumstances of our meeting could be better…"

"We are well met, princess," Cyril said neutrally.

"Indeed," Sallya chuckled. "Forgive my dearest brother, he has many burdens on his shoulders and does not understand that there are others ready and willing to help him bear them."

"Please, if you could walk with me in the gardens?"

Cyril looked over at Samael who sighed but gave his permission. It seemed that Sallya had her older brother around her pinkie finger.

The gardens, as befitting the King, were well maintained. Cyril walked alongside Sallya and her retainer, Charlotte, the Kikimora was a bit more friendly than Cheramie but judging from the sheathed longsword strapped to her waist she wasn't a pushover either. Cyril looked over his shoulder at the guards trailing them. He suspected that even the servants tending to the gardens weren't who they seemed to be.

He swore that one of them had a neck that was thicker than the small tree he was pruning. Seriously, the bastard was huge.

"My brother has many enemies, Hunter." Sallya spoke as she leaned back in her chair, "Our father is one of them."

"I… heard that His Majesty usurped the throne," Cyril said, carefully. "I understand that it may be a sensitive subject, but I need information if I am to begin my work."

"Sensitive… That is a word for it," Sallya smiled. It was a vicious expression, Cyril didn't back away but he was surprised to see such a thing on someone so frail. "Did you know my father promised my dignity to someone before I was even born?"

"Princess…" Charlotte spoke worriedly.

"My father was a good, gentle man." Sallya reminisced, wistfully. "But he was weak. He sought to appease and compromise rather than defend our country from outside influences, even if it meant to sacrifice family. All for the good of this country, he says over and over again like a mantra."

She looked at the Hunter, "Our two eldest brothers disappeared one night, a few years ago." She said. "The heir to the crown disappears and my father says nothing because of the she-devil that hovered over his shoulder. A noble came into our home, a succubus. That should have alerted our father but he was weak."

Sallya looked forward now, frowning. "Now… My brother has put it upon himself to do what he can to fix his many mistakes. The Order, the Monsters… They won't find a foothold here."

Cyril stayed silent throughout the time the Princess spoke of what had happened in Erebus. "And so you came to the League," He said to her, "To find someone who can help you."

"In a way, yes." Sallya answered Cyril's statement. She looked at the Hunter, "And it was your blade work that convinced me that you were the right man for the job." She signaled Charlotte to stop and turn her so she could face the Hunter.

"I implore you, Fearsome One, to do what you can for my brother." Sallya spoke. "And for my people, they suffer under the claws of the monsters and the blandishments of the Order. This was a free country once, and I want to see it become free when I can walk again."

Cyril heard the conviction in Sallya's voice. He did not hear any falsehood in it either, it was a request that she made personally. There was also something else in her eyes, Cyril could see it. She somehow knew that he would have accepted this job. As if something had told her about the Good Hunter.

The Hunter felt the wind blow, and knew that he had made his decision. Regardless of what would happen in these coming days, he knew that the world would call for him.

"My blade is yours then," Cyril said quietly. "For what it is worth, I apologize for what I shall leave in my wake."

Sheffield, Orphanage of Sasha Fullmoon…

Sasha sighed as she put down the bucket of water before taking a seat. She smiled as she saw Ember and Aran making sure Sierra was not getting into trouble. The High Elf was still incapable of speech but she expressed herself through other means. But regardless of her infirmity she did her best to be as cooperative as possible.

This was not the first time she had seen such things, in her earlier years she had assisted the healers of Lescatie whenever they deigned to enter the poor district. She knew, without a doubt now, that the care she provided was leagues ahead of those healers who only took on those patients who could pay even a little bit.

Sasha wiped her brow, and with determination began her chores. There was still work to be done and while there were servants around, courtesy of Lord Henderson, she wasn't about to become complacent.

There was a knock on her orphanage's door.

"Coming!" Sasha called out.

She approached the door and opened it. "Oh my!" She gasped before bowing.

It was Lord Nial Henderson, alongside Hastur and Dimas…

And a raven haired young woman. Sasha recognized her as Druella's agent from… from before.

"May we come in, Sasha?" Nial asked, "We won't take long. I have to brief you as well."

"It is no trouble." Sasha said, letting the group in.

Hastur and Dimas followed the raven haired young woman, the Dhampir. She had been disarmed but she gave Sasha a polite nod of acknowledgment. The group entered the living room, where Sasha allowed Nial and his entourage to sit.

Noticeably, Dimas and Hastur stood like grim sentinels that kept watch over the raven haired young woman. Then again, she was a monster. Dhampir like her were dangerous but Sasha honestly did not see the need for a guard.

Nial smiled tiredly at the display, "Sasha, may I present Fina Brusilov, daughter of Mistress Seras Brusilov, Healer and student of Doctor Greilia Little. As you know, she is an agent of the Fourth Born Princess of Lescatie." He introduced his… guest.

"I know," Sasha spoke timidly. "I… we've met."

"Indeed," Nial said raising a brow before turning his attention back to everyone else. "But, we are pressed for time. Master Sutherland has made his way to the Kingdom of Erebus under orders from the First. Fina has told me that the group she is with has been ordered to move to apprehend him. I… cannot stress how volatile that situation shall become."

"The Hunter would kill us." Fina deadpanned. "I've been hearing the Banshees say that for so long, I'm honestly surprised we haven't encountered him in person yet… Either that or someone up there wants us alive long enough to find him…"

"But that's not what we're here for." Nial said, looking hesitant. "You see… Fina wants to make a deal, in exchange for whatever information she has, she wishes for you to take in her sister Natsume."

Sasha nodded, "We… we can do that." She said, "The orphanage is quite big and the servants you have given me are helpful, but what ails Miss Fina's sister?"

"I…" Fina spoke up then hesitated as everyone looked at her. "I was tasked with spying on the Hunter himself after my sister… became insane."

"Insane?" Hastur spoke up, "What do you mean?"

To the left, Dimas had taken up position near the doorway and leaned against the wall arms crossed. The man watched the proceedings briefly before his eyes scanned the room. His usual, carefree smile was gone; he never played around when work needed to be done.

Fina looked down. "The Hunter threatened my sister if she spoke of his presence… and then, Lescatie happened." She said, "It… I know it sounds vague but ever since that night she has had nightmares, and all of them include him. Sutherland, that man who works with you."

Nial looked to Sasha, who rubbed her chin in thought.

"Where is Natsume?" She asked.

"With my mother," Fina answered. "I… we've been taking care of her but it has been very hard. The city seems to be busy with rebuilding."

"I assume you heard that there was a massacre during what was supposed to be the Union Festival?" Hastur asked Fina.

"Everyone knows," Fina answered. "Monsters talk too, you know."

"A regrettable situation that should not have happened, but here we are," Nial said as he looked at his agents. "So… if you want to work for me, Miss Fina, then you will know that I take treachery very seriously. Betray us and I have no reason to protect you should the Hunter decide that you are better dead than alive."

He looked at Fina sternly. "I hope you understand that."

Fina nodded. She knew the risks she was taking.

But, for Natsume, she would pay any price.

Erebus, the Village of Glaspire, a few days later…

Cyril's eyes were detached as he saw the fearful villagers going about their day trying to distract themselves from something. The Good Hunter had taken another river boat, free this time courtesy of King Samael. In fact, the King had allowed him pretty much free reign in how he was going to prosecute his duties.

Erebus had indeed called upon the Hunter. Cyril was beginning to see an… opportunity but that was being generous. He put aside those thoughts for now as he observed the village of Glaspire, one of the outlying villages that sat on the borders of Erebus and Sheffield.

His red eyes scanned the townsfolk and confirmed his suspicions that there were more women than men. These people had been targeted for the obvious reason, monsters needed the men after all. Glaspire wasn't a very big community but losing people would hit them very hard during these times of uncertainty. Cyril made it his first task to visit the inn, the usual gathering spot for the villagers.

What was left of them, at least.

Cyril walked into town, eyes cold.

He had work to do.