Chapter 10: Marked

27th of Month of High Cold, 1837

2:03 AM

Keeping my head tucked against Geoff's shoulder prevents him from reaching my face, and a wider stance keeps my feet away from his boots. He fights like a parent defending his child, making me feel guiltier than I expected. But he needs to sleep. We cannot have him blowing our cover before sunrise. At least in the morning, he'll know Callista is safe. He deserves that much.

I lower him to the floor gently and without a sound. A finger to his neck confirms he is still breathing. With a quiet sigh, I clean the room as best I can. The first and simplest task is reattaching Geoff's weapons onto his body. Then I pocket everything Campbell dropped as he fell, but leave the glasses as they are. Some rearrangement of the chairs hides what transpired this evening. Just a meeting with cheap wine, and then everyone left of their own free will.

Only two things left. I lay Curnow on the ledge outside the window. The roof shields him from the worst of the rain, and he should be hidden from casual notice. He can wait there while I deal with Campbell. I slug the High Overseer onto my right shoulder, letting his dead weight hang over me. The years of alcoholism make him particularly heavy.

I look up to the transom window ledge and make a fist with my Marked hand. A familiar but exotic tingle vibrates through my arm.

"Hinc..." I whisper, focusing on the point I need to be. A dozen invisible needles prick my hand, the sensation just short of pain. "Illuc."

Wind rushes past my ears as I open my fist. The wooden floor beneath me becomes the window's ledge, creaking under the weight of myself and my hostage. The pins are gone, lethargy replacing them. I breathe deeply for a few moments, and it passes. The more I use the spell, the easier it becomes. I doubt it will ever be as easy as it was in the Void, but less of a headache seems possible. Practice makes perfect. That Blink is too useful to ignore, and gaining some proficiency with it would be welcome.

I slink along the ceiling's piping, watching below for sentries. They have not changed shifts yet, so no replacements have come for those sleeping. I keep the crossbow ready in my left hand, in case one of them happens to wander upstairs. No one interrupts me as I slip into the library, Blink from transom to bookcase to exit, and walk into the Interrogation Room. I lock the door behind me, and do the same to the room's other entrance.

Campbell lands in the chair with a thump. The straps are easy to secure around his limbs, quietly ensuring he doesn't go anywhere. He sleeps heavily, but he can be woken again. If a blade doesn't, the Brand will.

"Tenebrae expulsae," I whisper with a blink and flick of the wrist. The Void's magic makes my hand tingle, but less so than the other spell. My vision shows a yellow tint over everything. Campbell is illuminated, as are two of the men in the Library. I can see the faint outline of the third, but he is too far to see him clearly. All of them are still asleep, and are no danger yet. A brief search finds no others near enough to be concerned about. It is only me and Campbell now. I blink and repeat the gesture, dismissing the spell. My sight returns to the normal without a sound.

A part of me laughs at how easily the spells are performed here. Even in a supposed house of holiness, the Outsider's magic has no more resistance than normal. None of the Strictures on the walls or Overseer chants seem to affect it. Maybe I am getting better with it. Or maybe the Overseers pose even less of a threat to the Outsider than I thought.

Another portion wonders what else I can do with these powers. Daud had to have a Mark as well, and he could obviously do more than see through walls and teleport. What could I learn with more practice? Will it be enough to beat him? Or will I have to rely on steel for that?

Too many thoughts, not enough time. Someone will notice the missing patrols eventually. I need to deal with Campbell. Extending my sword and the Brand, I argue on what to do with him. Decisions, decisions...

I set the Brand on the table, then reverse my grip on my blade. With one quick motion, I sink the tip through his foot. He lurches forward and tries to yell. I force his jaw up with my palm, catching his tongue in his teeth. I'm not worried about others hearing: the room is sound-proof. But I don't feel like hearing him whine.

"Shut up," I whisper, putting my hand on his throat. "Understand?"

He coughs blood as he frantically nods. I let him go, wiping my hand on his coat. My blade comes out of his foot easily. I clean it as well before folding it away.

"I came for two things," I say as I look down on the High Overseer. "One is your head, but that can wait for now."

"Do you have any idea who I am?" he asks. He wants to shout, but fear stops him from raising his voice. Piero will be proud of his mask's effectiveness. "My men will slaughter you, heretic!"

I laugh. "They are in the library, the lucky ones only unconscious. It's just us, Thaddeus."

He finally musters enough courage to yell. "Guards, guards!"

I drive my heel into his sternum, feeling the satisfying crunch of bone beneath my boot. More blood sprays in a fine mist as he wheezes.

"Where was I?" I taunt. He only coughs in response. "I came for two things. Your head, and your precious black book. I have one of them already."

Horror floods his face as I wave the notebook before him. He opens his mouth to yell again, shutting it only a second before I can kick him.

"This will ensure I bring down your friends. That leaves you. Luckily, I believe death is too good for you."

A gleam of hope appears in his features. That disappears when he notices the Brand at my right. "No, no, no, no!" he shrieks.

I grab his chin and force his face up to mine. He squirms and squeals as I bring the Brand closer. I force his head into the chair hard enough to still him, but leaving him awake.

"Retribution, Thaddeus," I whisper. "You stole my life. Now I take yours."

The Brand's chemicals burn his face on contact. The entire left side scars almost instantly, leaving a jagged and distinct mark on his flesh. A part of me almost smiles at his cries, but the smell of burning skin quells the impulse. Somehow that bothers me more than anything.

I hold it for a few seconds, making sure the brand takes before releasing him. He continues wailing, motivated by pain or terror. I grant mercy and slam the handle of the Brand into his chin. He is unconscious immediately, slumped over with a stream of blood dripping from his mouth. He won't bleed out, but he will be in pain come morning. Especially when his men throw him out on the street. I wonder how long he'll last.

If only the others could be dealt with as easily. Only Overseers can be branded, according to their ritual book. Even if I stuck it to Burrows' face a dozen times, he would still be Regent. His pain would make me happy, but not accomplish anything. No, he will fall some other way. But maybe I can arrange something similar for the rest of his company. A scarlet letter does not compare to a burned face, assuming they are not killed outright.

I drop the Brand just beyond Campbell's reach, then move towards the door. I grant myself the Vision once again to check the hallway. No other bodies are here yet. Good. I leave the room in crouch, drawn blade in hand. A shift rotation should not occur for another two hours, but better safe than sorry.

The window on the other side of the hallway is open. No shutters, so no one knows I am here. I climb through the window frame and crouch on the building's ledge. Narrow, but not enough so to make me worry. This is safer than staying inside, and lets me get a feel for the path before I collect Geoff. I stay low as I press on, watching the guards beneath.

Following the building's exterior, I come to the window beside the meeting room. Geoff is still asleep and mostly dry. It takes some effort to gently secure him on my right shoulder, but I manage. I put the sword away, instead wielding the crossbow with my left. No sign of his men yet, and hopefully it will stay that way. When they grow tired of waiting, chances are they will raise an alarm over their missing Captain.

I continue along the ledge, keeping Geoff on the side against the building. Paranoia dictates I hide in the shadows whenever the men below are looking anywhere near my direction. It makes progress slow, but safe. The only risk I take is when I come to a hollow of the building. I could follow the ledge, adding several dozen meters to my trek. Or I can Blink to the other side.

"Could use the practice," I mutter and put away my crossbow. The distance is short, easily reachable if I was not weighted down. But I make a fist and watch my target. "Hinc illuc."

Stone is still under my feet when I open my hand, but it is different than it was a moment ago. We are on the other side, no complications. Fighting the slight ache in my body, I draw the crossbow and continue.

We reach the end of the courtyard, the ledge taking us above the fenced perimeter. Two Overseers patrol here, along with the bin Geoff will sleep in. Some construction materials obstruct line of sight below, and a light pole near the center provides the only illumination here. No flood light for rats, thankfully.

There is little pattern to the men's movement as they wander the small alley. The one nearest me is simply kicking a rock and following it. His friend seems more aware, but is far from an organized patrol. They are hardly paying attention to anything, meaning my distraction will have to be slightly bigger.

The pile of wood will suffice. I quietly replace my dart with one of the incendiary bolts stolen from the Bottle Street traps. A shot from my crossbow starts a small fire in the supply heap. Distracting, but easy enough to douse.

"Shit!" the kicking Overseer says after finally noticing the building flames. "Brother, help me!"

The pair rush towards the blaze and begin stomping it out. While they are busy with that, I Blink down to the street. There are no interruptions as I stash Geoff in the mostly empty bin. This alley should be left unmanned during daylight, assuming they are keeping to their old schedule. If so, he will find the Watch easily in the morning. If not... hopefully the Overseers won't think too hard about what happened tonight. I close the bin, then slip towards the other side of the alley. The patrol is putting out the last of the embers now, motivating me to leave.

"Stay safe, friend," I whisper to Geoff as I go. Samuel should be in the backyard by now. I am almost free.

Another small alley runs along this side of the Abbey, little to no cover in the corridor. The right stays level, while the left follows a staircase downward. One Overseer at the top, arguing from below indicating there's more past him.

"Please, she's my sister!" one voice pleads as I creep forward. "She's not a witch, I know her!"

I look down the stairs from behind the first Overseer, keeping minimal distance. Another zealot below, one man standing between him and a woman. He's wearing the robes of the Overseers, but not the metal face. Easy enough to see who is on what side.

"Out of the way. You expect preferential treatment just because you are her brother?!" the masked fanatic below shouts.

I rationalize my intervention by saying their fight will draw attention I don't need. Regardless, I grab the one closest to me and begin choking him.

"She will burn! All witches must burn!"

As my victim falls, the men below draw their swords. Could throw this one as a distraction, if they were closer… Taking a chance, I try to Blink past the Overseer. I hope for the best as I unfold my blade, point my shoulder forward. and utter the spell.

My body crashes into him, knocking him off his feet. A sword, the brother's, is already swinging for me. I parry the blow over, then drive him back with a fist. Surprise slows him as I move on the Overseer. He landed face down, still awake. I take my elbow and strike the back of his head. He gasps, then is comatose.

I face the other two in a defensive crouch, sword ready. Fear and confusion on their faces, not anger. A normal reaction, considering a masked stranger joined their fray. I stay silent and prepared to defend. The brother watches me for several seconds before he lowers his weapon. He whispers, "We'd both be dead if not for you."

I retract my blade as I stand upright. The handle never leaves my grip. "Probably."

"We are in your debt," the sister says, joining her sibling. "I cannot thank you enough."

He looks at her, then puts a protective arm around her shoulder. "I have to get her to safety. But I think I know a way to repay you. There's a safe in the bunkhouse, the combination is 803. Take what you want, and good luck."

I nod. They start to walk back, trying to leave the way I came. I dash in front of them, then point towards a different street to the left of the Abbey.

"Fewer patrols," I say. It would be a shame if they died minutes after I saved them.

The brother starts to say something, but doesn't. He only takes his sister down my suggested path, sidestepping his fallen comrades.

The bodies are easy enough to drag to a darkened corner of the alley, away from the few lights present. Still too easy to find for my comfort, but there's no other good options. Rooftops would work, if I trusted these idiots to not break their necks in the morning. No, down here will have to do.

If memory serves, there are overhangs further ahead on the right. High enough no normal man can reach them, but Blink should do the trick. Another path above the guards, rather than through them. Settling on that, I follow the right side of the alley.

A small basement window is just ahead, leading to a hidden room in the Abbey. I wish I didn't know what it was used for. The best way to create more zealots is to steal them as children, isolate and train them while screaming scripture. It's easiest to do that far from home, at the White Cliff stronghold. Those who take to the brainwashing become Overseers. The others simply don't return. Regardless, that room is where they sleep until they are shipped off. A horrible final memory to have of your home after being stolen from your bed by masked thugs.

I pass a bridge on my left a few feet past the window. And further still, the alleyway ends at a waist high barrier. The overhangs along the Abbey's wall are higher than I remembered, out of Blink's reach. I look over the railing to the street below and spot two Overseers on patrol. At least they missed the earlier brawl. Too much moonlight, not enough cover down there. Either I find a way up to the overhangs, or I work my way back through the building and out their main door. Laziness pushes me towards the more creative route.

I travel back down the alley, then take the bridge over the lower path. The buildings across the small walkway used to be apartments, empty now due to the Abbey's tightened security. But the air vents along the outer walls are still there. Following them with my eyes, they seem to run close enough to the overhangs for my purposes. I take a deep breath and prepare myself for another Blink. The central unit is the easiest target to reach: one quick spell is all it takes to appear on the new path. I crouch and draw the crossbow again, pushing forward.

The rain makes the vent slick, but the flat surface is easy to traverse. It ends a meter short of the overhangs, but is almost level with them. Close enough for magic, at least. With a little focus, I silently Blink to the first overhang and then the next. The quick succession of spells leaves me lightheaded, but almost in the backyard.

From here, the best option is another ledge along the Abbey's wall. It is almost directly above my metal perch, too high to reach without Blink. But I can only see the bottom from here, and my tackle into the Overseer proved the spell cannot go through objects. I try leaning over the edge of the overhang to get a clear view of the top. After a minute, it's obvious I cannot make it without taking another risk. But the other option involves fighting through more Overseers. The decision makes itself.

"Hinc..." I mutter, making the fist. Itches and headaches strike me as I roughly aim for the ledge. I leap from the overhang while staying as quiet as possible. There's a clear shot at my target just as gravity starts to take me down.

"Illuc."

My chest slams into the concrete ledge. I start to slip, but manage to grab it before it's too late. My leg swings over the side, and that pulls me to safety. As I lay on the ledge and try to catch my breath, I take inventory of my damaged ribs. Broken bones are survivable, but breathing quietly will be difficult. What I deserve for pushing my luck.

"Overconfidence is a slow and insidious killer," I mutter through the pain, not sure what story I stole that from. After some effort, I sit upright. Rest will come at the Hound Pits. Until then, I will have to work through it. I draw my crossbow again while putting my legs beneath me. In a crouch, I follow the ledge around the building.

After the building's corner, I can almost see the backyard clearly. Three workshops run along the other side of the alley, the last one blocking some of my view. They were used for weapon crafting and artifact destruction before the Plague, always closed in the evenings. And it looks like that has not changed. Only the Overseers patrolling the yard to worry about then.

There's no easy way down that would not end in a broken leg. I could stay on the ledge and circle the Abbey, but it would get me nowhere. The final workshop is being renovated with a crane connected to its roof. It still has a wooden platform hanging from it, suspended over the center of the alley. I can't reach the warehouse from here, but the platform is close enough.

Two quick Blinks, and I'm atop the weapons workshop with new aches. A few seconds of deep breathing makes most of it fade away. This building has glass windows on the roof I can use to get in. I close my eyes and listen below for sentries. None inside... but at least two near enough for me to worry.

"Tenebrae expulsae," I whisper. My headache briefly intensifies before fading away. Yellow outlines of creatures stand out in my vision. A half-dozen rats scurrying about, thankfully not in a swarm. Couple of guards in the bunkhouse distant enough to keep the details hidden. And two handlers patrolling with their dogs on opposite corners of the yard. The pair closest to me is making a slow circle around the barracks and in front of this building. Hopefully the rain will keep the wolfhounds from smelling me.

As they pass, I check the window for a latch. No way to open it, but it is only glass. Eventually, the patrol is comfortably far away, and I smash the window with my pistol's grip. I slink into a dark corner on the roof and wait to see if anyone noticed the sound. When the outline of the Overseer comes back thirty-two breaths later, there's nothing in his movement to show alarm. His hound seems as bored as his partner and passes without ceremony. I drop into the workshop silently, looking to learn about the Overseer's weapons and an easier way through the yard.

My Vision did not lie to me: no guards in here. The windows are unfortunately nothing but metal bars, so those outside will see me if I'm not careful. This room looks to be for prototypes, either creating or dissecting contraband found on "heretics." Tables with tools, charts on boards, other bits and bobs fill the space. An approximation of an Outsider's rune sits in a vise, but seems off. I lay a hand on it, but hear no distant singing or feel a tingle in my body. Made by the Overseers, trying to replicate the artifacts? It looks the same as the ones in the Void and from Granny Rag's shrine. There must be something missing from it, maybe a ritual?

The diagrams on the board are for explosives, along with rough sketches of a vest meant for the wolfhounds. It seems like someone wants to turn the dogs into grenades with legs. More reliable than simply tossing a bomb, assuming you have an endless supply of them. The master of the hounds left a note on the corner of the board, expressing the predictable response: he'd rather send the engineer who designed it in than his dogs. I share his sentiment.

The most interesting thing in the room is what looks like a large, overly complicated typewriter. A harness connected to it shows it's meant to be worn on a man's chest, with a crank on the side for the user. Upon closer inspection, it seems like the inner workings of a piano, though more mechanical. There's a button on the piece that seems added for testing purposes. After checking outside for guards, I let curiosity press it.

A screeching, warbling music creeps out of the device, just beneath ear hurting level. A headache erupts in the back of my skull, and pulsing lights dance across my vision. But the Mark burns worse than when the Outsider set it in my skin. It's like something is trying to rip the power from my flesh. I close my eyes and grit my teeth, trying to tune out the pain or music. Only slamming my fist back into the button and silencing the machine ends it.

"Damn..." I mutter, shaking the sparks from my eyes. The Mark still aches, but less so now. I can see the hound walking this way with clear determination. Its ears are raised and on alert, searching for me. His handler is close behind with a hand on his sword. I duck under the window.

Focusing on the sounds outside, I hear the hound approaching. It's sniffing and growling uncertainly, not sure what caught its attention. Maybe twenty seconds before it finds my scent. Shit.

I spot a white rat less than a meter in front of me. One of the bone charms on my hip grows warm as it scurries by. I grab the creature with a low lunge. It believes I am its friend until I throw it across the room. As it flies through the barred window to my left, it grazes the metal and shrieks. I hear the hound chase after the sound around the corner. The rodent screams again as the dog tears into it.

"Bring it here!" the handler shouts. I push myself back against the wall, still lying on the floor. My sword and crossbow are ready now.

The dog pads over to its master, then lets out a low whimper. A small thud as the body hits the ground. A few beats of silence, broken only by the rain and my hushed breathing.

"Breakfast is not far off, Sassiet. But thank you," the Overseer says in a quiet chuckle. His boot strikes the rat, then resumes its patrol. I count ten breaths after I lose his sound before sitting up.

"Shit," I half-laugh.

Keeping my weapons ready, I move to leave the workshop. The door to exit is outside of this room, next to a firing range. Targets with arrows sticking from them speak to the newest weapons they've tested. A note by the shooter's mark gives a few details: they found a stash of wrist bows used by the Whalers. They assume these models are inferior, because none of the men can shoot them accurately or reload quickly. I look over the tools, and realize they are simply ineffective with them. The Overseers lack the finesse to use something like this properly. Unfortunately, I see no real flaw with the design I can exploit when wielded properly. It won't make dealing with the assassins any easier.

I cast the Vision spell again to see beyond the door. Three men in the bunkhouse just beyond the door, the handler and hound walking past on their rounds. In another twenty breaths, they will be far enough to avoid easily. It seems the fastest escape is across the barrack's rooftop. I should be able to Blink to it, and then to the storage depot. If I watch the guards, I should be safe. My hand dismisses the spell to see the world without magic or yellow.

The dog and human pair continue to patrol another portion of the yard, leaving me free to escape the shop. I creep out the door, shutting it behind me. The scaffolding on the bunkhouse has seen better days, but seems stable. I Blink to it, then move in a crouch towards the center of the building. I have the combination to the safe inside: may as well see if I can't put it to use.

The windows of the roof are already broken, and the trusses inside are large enough to support me. No lights that can create a shadow, thankfully. I slip in and begin to survey the room with the mask's eyeglass. The three Overseers in here do not realize they have company.

"I can taste blood," one says with surprising weakness. "It's been days. You know what that means."

"Stop it. I'll give you my share of the elixir," his companion replies quickly. A little fear in his voice, denial.

The first stands up for himself. "I don't want to bleed from the eyes and lose my mind. And I don't want to spread the Plague to anyone else. 'Don't fall prey to restless hands.' I'm asking you because you've known me for so long. Will you do it?"

I stop my search to observe the drama below. The mask and gloves make it almost impossible to tell if he actually has the Plague. He believes he does, the shaking of his voice proves that much. If he can taste blood, it's already too late. But without taking his mask off, there's no way to check.

I can only shoot so quickly. It would take absurd luck to put each Overseer down before they can alert their companions. Even then, it leaves me with a possible Plague victim. He'll kill himself in the morning unless I can convince him he's safe. Assuming he is… Caught between the hammer and the anvil.

The martyr's companion lays a hand on him. "Yes, friend, I will. Before you weep."

"Thank you," the sick one mutters.

"Turn your back, recite the Strictures. I'll make it quick."

As he assumes a position on his knees, the third guard takes his leave. His mask cannot hide his quiet revulsion. Or maybe fear.

"Restrict the Wandering Gaze that looks hither…" the victim begins, exposing his neck to his executioner. I follow the trusses back outside. There is nothing I can do here. And somehow, stealing from their safe no longer appeals to me.

The rain is starting to lighten. I must get out of here, quickly. Whatever cover the storm provides Samuel will be gone soon. I work my way towards the edge of the rooftop and the nearby supply depot. The hound and master walk below me, dog still licking its chops for rat viscera. I keep my crossbow ready until they head towards the other side of the yard. Once they are gone, I make a running Blink to reach the depot's rooftop. A graceful roll keeps my landing from making much noise.

Pressing forward, I smell death in the building beneath me. Not a rat, something larger. I decide to investigate and see if it's anything else to worry about. Worst case, it gives me another body to feed to the rats if I need a distraction. The building sits on the very edge of a cliff down to the river's dock. A crane on my left is how they transport supplies between the two points and maintain security. But someone left it unwound for an easy climb. Sloppy.

Leaning over the building's edge, I see a boarded window. The decay seems strongest there. I take another unneeded risk and lower myself from the roof. The ledge beneath the window is just wide enough for me to stand on, though not as comfortably as I did on the Abbey's perimeter. From there, I use the sword to pry the boards loose. Rot from the rain makes it an easy task.

I only have to look inside to find the source of the smell. An Overseer, dead for several days, based on the bloating and stench. He left a note, written in a rough and shaky scrawl. He didn't kill himself intentionally: he fond a bone charm and ran. Then, afraid of his brothers taking it, he boarded himself in here with the whispering artifact. Without food or water.

"Poor bastard." I carefully reach in, taking the note and charm for myself. The Mark seems to make me immune to the objects and their insanity. There does not need to be more people losing their minds to these things. Besides, their minor magical effects are helpful. The sacrificial rat proved that much.

Reaching the dock is a simple task now. I hug the ledge until I come to the corner of the building. A brief search shows no guards. I grab the machine's chain and climb down slowly. No one around, other than Samuel at the dock below. Darkness hides me, but his lantern has him brightly illuminated. Thankfully, the angle makes it impossible for someone from the Abbey to spot him.

A minute later, I drop onto the dock. Samuel turns to face the sound. "Corvo? It's me."

I approach slowly, trying to make myself non-threatening. "It's done," I say.

He nods. I expected to see relief on his features, but there's none. A somewhat hidden resentment, if anything. "Good. From the way I hear it, Campbell lived a pretty posh life. Maybe it's not my place to say, but men of the faith shouldn't live like barons."

"It depends on the man," I say. "Faith is one of the few things Campbell lacked. The Abbey is better without him."

Samuel laughs a little. "True. Are you ready to go?"

I climb into the craft, giving Samuel plenty of room to sit. "Whenever you are."

Just for reference, I planned on having this uploaded last Friday. Then the flash drive I use as a back-up/transporting the latest edits decided to corrupt the sector with all of my writings. Everything but the last three-to-four edits of this guy were all backed up to clouds or externals, but yeah... I was not a happy camper. Think I made up for it in the end, though.

Anyway, hopefully this chapter doesn't need too much explanation/introduction. Yes, the words and spells are intentional, and there will be more on that later. I'm trying to do more with the Void magic than the game does, showing a little growth with it, explain how Corvo interacts with it, etc. The game doesn't exactly say much about it in terms of lore or how it feels for its users, compared to the book and comics, and that's something else I want to address. Anyway, TLDR, the magic words are intentional, and I'm doing my best to keep it lore friendly while making it a little more interesting than the game does.

Also, I hope I'm not the only one excited for Death of the Outsider. Harvey Smith already said it's the end of the current arc for Dishonored, and I can't wait to see how it goes. Hopefully they keep the series alive with spin offs or main entries in other continents/timelines. As long as it goes a little better than it did for Mass Effect with Andromeda. (P.S, I enjoyed that game. FAR from perfect, but still a solid and enjoyable game. A shame this fandom killed it before we got some proper DLC.)

And now, onto more writing! Enjoy, my minions!