Marcus

The gleam of the moon along with all the stars of night was upon them by the time they reached the Hamlet. Marcus had been worried there would be more enemies lurking among the trees but they left without further trouble. Each of them did not burden themselves with much in terms of baggage, only the essentials. Marcus knew the road could be treacherous so it was better he'd not bring anything of great value lest it be lost in an attack or outright stolen. They all looked upon the Hamlet with the same stare. A small cobblestone bridge led to an open town square that had dirt roads leading to both large buildings of import and the lesser hovels and stone dwellings. In the center a large statue in ruin held four cloaked men all around a small fire. Drinking, taunting and gesting ever louder, not noticing the three approach. Marcus looked on in disgust. A man was chained against the statue, his clothes ripped and his body worse still. It took Marcus a few moments of further inspection before he recognized the man… Larrin Kurz. Memories flashed before his eyes as his anger stirred in his chest. Larrin was His Grandfather's steward and his closest friend. The Kurz had sworn fealty and love to the Dalton family, stretching back five generations. Larrin was as kin as any other could be. Seeing such a beloved friend drove Marcus over the edge, only he did not react initially.

"Who the hell are you, Hündin?" One of the brigands yelled as the rest of his friends laughed. With so much alcohol anything said was funny, if it was coming from them.

Marcus said nothing, only reaching his hand to Dismas's side and drawing his flintlock.

"Hey wait a minute, do you know who I am?" His voice was gruff and full of spittle as he rose and moved towards Marcus.

"Some dead man."

Marcus pulled the trigger and a flash of powder lit the square for a half a second before the man stopped in his tracks, his eyes widened before a trickle of blood flowed down his face and he collapsed dead. The other three bandits had risen, eyes awake, and their blades drawn.

"Listen here you useless scum. I am Marcus Dolton, the rightful owner of these lands, and your kind is no longer welcome here. Now leave before I gouge your eyes out with hot pinsers." The bandits said nothing. If any of them had thoughts of retaliation, none had spoken up, opting to run away, across the cobble bridge and back into the Weald. There was quiet for a few tense moments before Reynauld broke the silence "M'lord. Remind me never to incur your wrath."

Marcus turned his attention back to Larrin who was still unconscious. When the three of them unchained the steward, they held him firm. He looked to be malnourished, his face gaunt with many bruises and cuts, even his head was shaved. 'Hold on Larrin' Marcus thought as he carried him with the help of Dismas. Reynauld Looked about before spotting the local tavern "The Winking Wench", and rushed inside.

It was just before dawn by the time Larrin woke, his eyes shot open and a gasp escaped his mouth. "Hold still old friend, it's alright." Marcus kept his voice low. He hadn't gotten much sleep but it seemed neither did Larrin. Dismas and Reynauld were still abed. The tavern had not been in use for much except the bandits excessive drinking. Tables were overturned, chairs smashed to splinters and broken bottles were strewn about the floor. The few windows that the tavern held were boarded up, half eaten by termites and rotting with neglect. During the night a few townsfolk had crept out of their homes to see what the commotion was. Marcus was unsure if they were joyful or skeptical of him, though it was obvious none held any love for the previous owners.

Larrin grew a wicked smile, his eyes glazed over. "I see fire and death! Fire and death! Madness oh madness take to bed!" His song was rough, out of tune and scratchy from lack of water. Marcus was baffled, it seemed he didn't recognize him. Marcus grabbed his shoulders and shook him. "Larrin! Larrin it's me, Marcus. Come back to me friend. It's over, you're safe."

"Safe is a coddling word for the sick, dying and helpless! I am no such entity. I am a sane man of the church! Bless me father for I have sinned with a carrot! Or was it a ferret? I can't tell! Ahahaha- agh!" Marcus slipped a syringe into Larrins shoulder, while his other hand held him firm.

"Look at me." Marcus held his face for a moment, his brows in a hard stare, but the eyes were what snapped Larrin back. The clouds in Larrins eyes cleared. The caretaker looked about the room, slowing taking in the environment, and then back to Marcus. He let out a long sigh, as if the presence of a friend had breathed life back into him, if only for a moment. Then his smile faded, and a look of sorrow took hold. "Why did you leave?"

The question caught Marcus off guard. They both knew why he had left. It was every boy's dream to seek adventure, but it was the man who carried out the task. When he reached 17, Yurien had deemed him old enough to leave. Larrin had always been a protective sort but he had wished him luck all the same. "If you had never gone, then none of this would have happened. The people turning on us, this land left to rot, and... your Grandfather would not have turned as he did."

Marcus stood, he shifted his gaze onto the sleeping forms of Reynauld and Dismas. "You're right Larrin, I did leave. And maybe if I had stayed things would have been different." His eyes softened and his shoulders slumped. "Had I known this would have gone as it did, perhaps I would have done things another way. But it's changed now. I have returned, and I will make this place as it once was. You have my word, I will restore my family to a place of dignity and honor, or die trying." He clenched his fists at that last word, his leather gloves groaning with the friction. 'I have no other choice, my heart weeps at the sight of my childhood home reduced to such a state of squalor and cruelty.'

"Were all gonna' die. Best we do it with a dream in our hearts, even if they're strangled." Marcus looked back to Larrin to see his eyes had returned to their original glossy state, the medicine having worn off. It was old and barely any left when he had found it. Larrin threw himself off the couch and staggered "Yes yes, young master is home and I will see his death dream come true! And die trying ah ha ha!" Larrin sang as he opened the door and left swiftly. Marcus watched him go, sadness returning. Reynauld voice spoke behind him.

"Can we trust him, my lord?"

Marcus inclined his head towards Reynauld, looking upon the ground. "I hope so, Reynauld. I've known him my entire life, he helped raise me when my Grandfather wasn't around. He's all the family I have left in this world. I fear his long standing duties holding together a failing and hopeless town have… affected him."

"Clearly not for the better. We all have a bit of madness in us. But with your help I'm sure he'll be back to his better days in no time." Marcus appreciated his counsel, he would need much if his plans were to come to fruition properly.

The light of the morning sun had crept over the trees and broke through the heavy clouds, giving the hamlet a warm welcome to the day. Birds could be heard outside, chirping away and people began stirring awake. Marcus had dozed off on a table, only catching less than an hour of sleep before being awoken by a strong hand. He looked up quickly, his hand reaching for his weapon but he only saw Dismas. The man had taken his overcoat off, sporting his white cotton shirt and black suspenders. He relaxed and sat up from the table, wiping a bit of drool from the corner of his mouth. Dismas's eyes flashed with a second of amusement before he set down a plate of food and utensil. It was then that the smells had reached his nose. Before him was a wooden plate of sizzling sausage links, and yellow fluffy eggs with crushed pepper and sea salt. Reynauld and Dismas had each brought up a chair and their own plates. Reynauld had put his armour on a table, a white linen shirt covered his chest along with a pair of old brown pants. His face was scared and rugged no doubt given by the years of battle. His black hair complimented his rugged face and stoic demeanor. The eyes were a light blue with a long scar running down the top of his left eyebrow to his upper cheekbone, but it did not look ugly. Marcus then realized it matched his helms cut as well.

Marcus was curious who had made their food until he saw a man step out of the back kitchen doors. He was bulky with a bald head and a thick sandy blonde mustache. He wore a simple white cloth shirt under a green vest, matching green trousers. "Ah, you're awake. I tried to keep the kitchen quiet while you slept. Many thanks for getting those bastards out of here last night." His accent was a jovial Scottish.

"It was the first of many wrongs I hope to right here. What is your name sir?"

"Phillip Stach, I'm the owner of this place. Tell me true, are you really here to fix this place?" his voice was serious now, his glare harsh. Marcus swallowed a bite of greasy hot sausage, the food was excellent despite his suspicions.

"Well I'd also like to clean up the town square too, I did leave a bloody mess earlier, but yes that's why I'm here."

Phillip gave a nod, set down three mugs of water, and then returned to the kitchen. The three ate their meals, each enjoying the warmth and fullness the food had brought. The water was refreshingly cool and washed down the hard sausage and numerous salty eggs. A horse drawn cart could be heard outside. The noise drew the companions' attention. Having all finished their meals, they exited the tavern. The cart was a carriage instead, very much like their own, only less destroyed and still sporting a very much alive driver. The side door opened and two slender figures stepped out.

Marcus gave a smile, they had made it here safely. The first was a plague doctor. The long beak mask and blackish green medical robes had made her profession clear. On top of her robes she wore leather padding and pouches of supplies dotted her waist. The second sported traditional vestal robes accompanied by form fitting plate guard. At her side was a mace and a holy tome held by sanctified chains. Her face held youth, her lips full and features soft; brown hair ran down and flowed out a few inches from her hood, settling atop the chest plate. "Oh ho ho ho ho ho! Visitors! Master Marcus you did not inform me there would be more! I would have prepared some water works!"

Larrin ran down from the steps that lead to the abandoned abbey. He began to introduce himself, drawing the attention of the newcomers away from Marcus and the rest. "My lord, you hired more? Are we not sufficient?" Reynauld was more confused than angry, though his voice did have a touch of steel.

"You both are Reynauld."

"Forgive me but why are they here then?"

Marcus sighed, he hadn't expected this from Reynauld, Dismas maybe but not him. "I have many reasons for my methods, Reynauld. You were there in the weald, you fought those bandits same as I."

"Indeed we did but-"

"Reynauld, you are a staunch and brave warrior of that there is no question. But you both cannot take on all of the hamlets problems and enemies alone, none of us can. These two are women of both strength and wisdom in the medical field. The corruption we faced, I fear, was but a taste of the horror we're about to engage in." Marcus placed a hand on Reynauld's shoulder, reassuringly with a smile. "I do not know why you are so hesitant to trust them, but I need you both on my side."

"I-… I will trust in your judgement." Reynauld said with resignation in his voice.

"Good man."

Marcus turned his attention back to the others. "Ah it's good to see you both made it here alright. I hope the drive was pleasant."

"As pleasant as any carriage ride can be. It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Lord Dolton. I am Abigail Wisemun, vestal of the Order of the Hidden Flame." The vestal gave a deep bow. Marcus smiled at that, it was refreshing to receive his titles respect. "Oh and this is my friend I told you about, Doctor Sophia Brogeski."

"A pleasure to meet you both, these two behind me are who you'll be working with, Reynauld and Dismas." Marcus gestured with a smile. "Now that introductions are out of the way it's time to start talking business…"

The conversation moved on into the Tavern again as all followed Marcus inside. As they left, a pair of black red eyes stared after Marcus covetingly, though nobody saw. A chuckle of excitement left its lips, the anticipation was palpable; then again, all good things come to those who wait.

A/N: Hey guys! Hope you're enjoying the story! I'll be posting weekly on Sundays to form some sort of schedule. Feedback is great, reviews are appreciated, and I always reply to messages so don't hesitate :D