The parlour had become overcrowded since that fateful night of the Herald’s arrest. Though the Army’s leadership now rested in Lureaux’s jail cells awaiting trial, the riot had been far from isolated. Idhara was merely the least affected of the nations, with Gardish and Renoran representatives appearing in the days since. They now stood in the parlour coordinating with the countess’ servants. As a result, the party had been relegated to the countess’ library where Twitcher often spent their hours learning what had transpired these last four thousand years. They had even been assisting Aldrich correct the many inaccuracies in the Herald’s speech. Fred and Solvi sat playing cards while Arthur gazed moodily into the fire, having spent his shift healing Mara’s injuries.
The library itself was a grand affair with bookshelves that stemmed from floor to ceiling, all carved of rich dark wood with ladders and gangways that ran the length of the room. The roof high above them was supported by decorative arches that separated beautifully painted ceilings. They held the portraits of the vampire queen holding a banner aloft over adoring humans, ships sailing across the globe and the legendary duel between Boros Northgard and Agrius VI, which ended the Yandite Empire. The well-mantled fireplace was flanked on either side by tall glass cases containing myriad mundane and magical artefacts. Prized of these seemed to be an old grandfather clock with unusual magical markings Arthur could not comprehend.
As the clock chimed, Lorana entered the library with a defeated expression. Her bird cawed angrily at Twitcher, who made an obscene gesture in kind. Solvi was still unsure exactly what the problem was.
“No change, then?” Arthur asked his compatriot, who’d left Geoffrey to continue his healing efforts. Three people capable of healing magic working around the clock had merely stabilized Mara’s condition. She had since refused to wake up from her surgery. It was poor tidings, even though several healers from the hospital had checked the work.
“Out like a drunken Orsan. Didn’t so much as stir at my voice, ungrateful child.” Lorana shook her head, settling in her usual armchair. With a snap of her fingers, the kettle removed itself from the heating pan and poured a cup of tea through the leaves in her strainer. As it steeped, Lorana plucked at the hem of her robes. “The healing magic is taking. Her vitals are returning to normal. And yet, she remains stubbornly unconscious. I cannot fathom it.” Lorana added with a contemptuous sip of her tea. The group had become comfortable with Lorana’s prickly nature, noticing that the woman seemed to detest everyone around her without distinction. Not a glowing recommendation but Arthur was willing to take anyone who wasn’t supremacist at this point.
“Is her brain damaged in some way?” Arthur inquired as he looked into the flames. He did not wish to ask. The words had left his mouth with such fear that Solvi looked up from her cards, breaking the chain of distractions she’d been entertaining.
“Your brain might be damaged in some way.” Lorana scoffed, sipping her tea with a dismissive little finger raised. “We have a ghost who can look in her head. He said it is as if she is dreaming.” The archmage sighed, staring into her cup for a long moment. Solvi, entranced by any news of Mara, noticed the woman’s lip quiver slightly. Her jaw was set. Maybe there was a heart under all that malice after all.
“She does not wish to wake.” Twitcher nodded confidently, taking books from the upper shelves. Lorana rolled her eyes whilst Arthur gave a pained expression. Solvi, however, was willing to entertain even the slightest chance of an explanation.
“What makes you say that?”
“Very similar thing happened to Mira. Placed herself in a long sleep.” Twitcher explained as they brought a pile of books to the table with a thud. They then began parsing through the pages, now reading about the elvish rebellions that led to the creation of Eurdale. Ironically for the moment, a rebellion waged against other elves. “Came after she made slavery legal again. Overcome with fear, rage, sadness. She did not want to feel them, so she slept.” Twitcher shrugged before a thought seemed to strike them, turning to the back of their latest book. “Lyn Van Areth still alive, yes? Ask her. She can tell you more. I was in Verilla.” The automaton waved a hand as if the group could simply ask the vampire queen herself for help. The incredulous looks shared by the party dismissed the notion, save for Solvi. She stood up and stretched, back cracking as she did so.
“I’ll have to beat you some other time, Fred. Julie is coming off shift soon.” Solvi smirked, pretending to admire the décor as she strode to the exit. Once firmly out of sight of the others, Solvi checked her coat. Satisfied it would protect her from the Idharan winter, Solvi grabbed the Guillotine from the umbrella rack. She marched with determination towards the gardens where she’d seen Maddie idling lately. She’d occupied her time not showing a hint of contrition for her part in their injuries. Instead, she’d busied herself brutalizing the Army rioters who, even now, insisted on trying to break into Lureaux’s manors.
Solvi eventually found her in the gazebo they’d occupied nights before. She felt a twinge of regret for that night as she entered. She sat herself opposite the vampire, who seemed occupied with a book and writing. Solvi cleared her throat, setting the Guillotine aside with a thud. The vampire looked up expectantly, irritation clouding the usual cordiality she had.
“Twitcher told me something pertinent.” Solvi began neutrally, a hand remaining perilously close to her weapon. “She said that when Mira was overcome with her duties as empress or Ir or however you call her, she put herself to sleep to escape herself.” The Orsan searched Maddie’s expression, only to find her returning the stare with a distinct evasiveness.
“Whilst a fascinating factoid, why did you tell me?” Maddie inquired with customary biting sarcasm, returning to her writing.
“The letter Renaud gave us. It said the queen was interested in meeting Mara. The vampire queen’s an old Elysian general. She’s a mage. Your sister curtseys to you.” Solvi spoke in a dangerous tone, as if warning a creature like the vampire queen of consequences. Maddie’s eyes flicked upwards beneath furrowed eyebrows. Her expression was grim. “You knew the woman. You might know how Mira woke up from that sleep. I’d say you owe us.” Solvi took a steadying breath to calm herself, though from rage or anxiety she knew not. The glare Maddie was giving her certainly implied the latter.
“Have a care, Solvi.” Maddie warned, snapping her diary shut with a dangerously diplomatic expression. “Were I to entertain this fantasy of yours, I’d say that Mira was a law unto herself. If she once put herself to sleep, it would not be so trivial a reason as suffering of the spirit. She was a slave. She was well acclimated to that pain.” Maddie then sighed, seeming to collect herself. “I’m sorry. I tore open her old wounds and flung her into danger. That suffering has now come to visit itself upon her in her most vulnerable moment.” Maddie apologized, emotion seeming to enter her voice. Solvi did not trust it, searching her expression with hostility. “In this moment I once again am reminded of the powerlessness I felt in those dark days. I wish I could help her, just as I wished I could have helped Mira. But no. Both women will do as they please. And they leave us to suffer for it.”
“And we love them all the same.” Solvi responded in a hardened voice, her hand toying with one of the many magical rings hanging from the Guillotine. Maddie looked to Solvi with an expression of such sadness that the Orsan had to reconsider her course. She steeled her heart against those woeful eyes, remembering the devastation they’d born witness to. Devastation their owner had ordered.
“I don’t think my feelings towards the Ir can be put into so simple a word. I was devoted, cordial even reverent of her.” Maddie began, eyes staring off into the middle distance. Perhaps memories had surfaced again. “I believed that through sheer force of will, she could restore the empire and bring about a more just world.” Maddie allowed herself a smile. A smile that wilted as soon as it had arrived. “Don’t give yourself to women like them. They are prone to righteous anger.” The vampire then stood, giving Solvi a firm grasp on the shoulder as she left into the sheets of snow before them. The silver-haired woman considered the advice, much as she wished not to. Her lie had only been a half-truth anyway. She gathered herself and picked up the Guillotine. Julie needed to be fetched from the station.
Making her way to the manor’s stable yard, Solvi greeted the old caretaker with a nod. His reddened, lined face lit up as he pulled one of the wotlings from their stable, handing the reigns to Solvi. The wotling preened and scratched with its front claws, puffing up in the cold air. Solvi took fruit from her pocket, offering it to the creature. Its long thin tongue wrapped about it and withdrew into the beak, wet crunching following thereafter. Satisfied her charge had been sufficiently bribed, Solvi mounted and bade the stable hand a good day. With a tap of her heels, she trotted through the streets of Lureaux.
The gothic grandeur of days past had been somewhat sullied as she rode through the tall townhouses of the well to do. Several had boarded up broken windows and cast hostile stares toward any who didn’t fit the mould. Solvi, travelling by wotling with a large weapon, received many such stares. Old soldiers had retrieved their service weapons, several of them wearing their Idharan army uniforms as they sharpened their blades. As dire as these circumstances were, they were nothing in comparison to the rest of the city.
As she rode down into the more modest houses, Solvi was forced to wrap her scarf about her mouth. The air was thick with cinders and smoke cast up from smouldering ruins. The dead had thankfully been collected though many funeral homes had become overwhelmed or destroyed. The city’s population now sat in front of the blackened edifices of their houses, dead eyed stares pondering where the next assault would come from. Solvi tried not to look, reminded all too strongly of the aftermath she’d witnessed in the Isles.
The poorest district near the harbour was Solvi’s destination. She was relieved as she entered through the gate that separated the manors and mansions from the destruction before her. Only the stone buildings remained, scorched with windows blown out. Their shattered remains had since been swept up, the citizenry evacuated to the surrounding towns and villages. The damage wrought was such that Solvi from her wotling could see the chevalier barracks that Julie worked at through the broken timbers. It put Solvi in mind of the burn pits she’d been ordered to operate during the war. The broken, blackened bones of what was once a city.
As her mount arrived before the station, she saw a small crowd of chevaliers shivering against the cold, burning timber in an old oak barrel. They seemed just as defeated and dejected as the citizenry, several sustaining injuries both fresh and tended. Their uniforms had been stained with soot. One of their sabres had even broken in two. She greeted them with as brave a face as she dared, tying her wotling’s reigns to the stable rings embedded in the wall.
Solvi eventually found Julie on the third floor of their little brick building. She was speaking with her commanding officer in conspiratorial whispers that grew even more subtle when she spied Solvi. After a wan smile to her commander and a firm grasp of his arm, she wrapped herself in the thick winter coat chevaliers were issued if they were lucky. Solvi wrapped a comforting arm about Julie and placed a kiss on the forehead. The two made their way from the commander before Julie pulled Solvi aside into her office. A mess of cabinets, a chaotic desk and half-upended chair were the most notable things Solvi saw.
“This is confidential, and I didn’t tell you if it isn’t.” Julie warned, nodding to the door which Solvi dutifully locked. She was sceptical as to whether it would prevent the commander overhearing, but assumed Julie knew best. “Our partners in Gard were tracking down the Army’s leadership. Still no inkling where Albrecht is. But last night there was an incident.” Julie began, searching through the draws of her desk before pulling a flat cap over her bobbed hair.
“A bit more than the incidents we’re already dealing with?” Solvi smiled teasingly. Julie’s disapproving stare and white knuckles resting upon the desk’s surface shifted her attitude in an instant. “Sorry. Go on.” Solvi apologized with a throat clearing.
“Yanhelm University was attacked. It was the middle of the night; the security detail was murdered. Archmage Merddyn and Gaius Renaud are missing. Renata Ver Coll was grievously injured.” Julie reported haltingly, attracting a gasp of horror from Solvi. Her hand flew to her lips, mind racing with the implications. Implications which Julie confirmed. “The Crook of Arawn is missing. According to the Legionnaires, the room was graffitied with Army slogans.” The chevalier sighed, unable to repress her feelings on the matter. “The dispatches have already left the station. Tonight’s news is going to be plastered with it.”
“Thank you.” Solvi said solemnly, enfolding Julie in an embrace before looking at her ruefully. “Mara still hasn’t woken up. They think it’s because she doesn’t want to.” She added, looking in the general direction of the manner meaningfully. Julie pulled a sceptical face before quickly correcting herself.
“I doubt she’ll enjoy the news then. Best keep the radio out of her room.” Julie reassured, patting Solvi’s back as she guided the taller woman out of the room. She referred to the idea Geoffrey had had. That a radio may encourage Mara’s mind to stay active. Solvi doubted her companion could even hear it much less process its words. The two of them walked to the wotling all the same, Solvi giving Julie a leg up due to the magnificent size of wotlings that carried Orsana.
The two of them returned to the manor swiftly, though Julie rode with her face pressed against Solvi’s back. The larger woman understood well that after a day of despair it was hardly encouraging to see all the work that yet remained. Solvi’s eyes flicked to a large stone building across the bay with iron bars at every window. Filled to capacity, the jail housed the Herald and all his minions. She considered just how many lives had been upended by his callous words. She still reserved a mote of contempt for each of his followers, though. The Herald and her mother had never been alone in their cruelty.
The pair of them arrived to find the manor in disarray. The countess stormed throughout the halls, searching for Maddie as one of her underlings brought ill tidings. The Gardish and Renoran representatives scurried from the manor and their host’s explosive temper. The party had been pressganged into searching for the mysterious vampire whilst Lorana sat with deliberate calm in near the fireplace. Arthur had been replaced by Geoffrey, who had his nose deep in a tome whilst experimenting on a jar of blood on the coffee table. Whatever he was doing, it had taken a dark sheen to the point where it was almost black.
“What happened?” Julie asked thin air, hanging her coat in the alcove that served as a cloakroom. Solvi did much the same, fastidiously removing any snow that had clung to it. Julie arched an eyebrow as she went so far as to throw it out of the door.
“That overstuffed yotul Renaud has gone and got himself kidnapped. Countess’ minions said as much, forgetting I have a bird.” Lorana scoffed, not looking up from her crossword puzzle. Her familiar croaked from its perch on the back of the armchair. “Yes, I know you’re not a bird. But explaining your true nature to the average cabbage brain takes too long. So, you’re a bird.” Lorana shot over her shoulder, jabbing the unfortunate creature with her staff. It squawked its disapproval, shimmying out of its mistress’ reach. “Idhara’s best and brightest my arse.” Lorana snorted derisively as she filled in a word.
“We were just about to tell you.” Julie blinked, still quite unable to process the forceful personality of Lorana. That was the polite way of putting it, in Solvi’s opinion.
“The rate at which you check for spies, you may as well have told the whole world. You’re very fortunate not everyone can whip up a fey dogsbody.” The archmage sniffed, turning the page of her newspaper before casting it into the flames with a roll of her eyes. “Haytham, you hack. The council should never have let your rag into our city.”
“Your city?” Solvi asked with feigned politeness, referring to the city-state of Lemuria. Created after the war as a check against Orsan military might, it was still a sore spot for many. Especially since it had been given over not to the victors but a gaggle of expert magicians.
“Aye. Our city. I don’t need to tell you what’ll happen if you attack me over it.” Lorana dismissed, waving an airy hand at the two of them without looking over. Solvi took a step forward, only to find Julie’s urgent hand pressed against her. “Oh, please give me an excuse, I beg you. I’ve lost count but another notch on my belt wouldn’t go amiss.” Lorana faced her then. The eyes that fixated on her were filled with a long-held anger. Solvi backed away with hands held up. “A city is the least you can do given what you took from me.” The archmage then returned to her usual bile level, her familiar cawing loudly in their general direction. Julie swiftly ushered Solvi away, keen to avoid a diplomatic incident. Especially given that neither of them was likely to survive said incident.
“Why is she still here?” Solvi frowned with disgust, wishing instead that she’d brought Renaud to his sana’s side. Were arrogance and casual threats currency in elvish society? No, Mara and Twitcher seemed sedate enough. Julie hurried through the library door behind Solvi, sitting her down for some tea moments after.
They instead travelled to the kitchens which Twitcher had taken to using to escape the constant questions the vampires were given to ask. The staff were skeletal given the riots, only the few in the servant’s quarters remaining. The pot of stew Julie had set aside for them boiled merrily in the expansive fireplace the kitchens boasted. Careful to avoid the jangling cookware hanging above the tables, Julie set about serving up.
“It’s just how she is, apparently. The war changed a lot of people.” Julie shrugged, tending to the pot and pouring some for Twitcher. The Elysian looked at her as if she were mad. Julie stared at the steaming cup for a second then over to the intricate metal helmet that made up Twitcher’s face. “Do…do you even eat?” Julie asked awkwardly of the torpid silence between them.
“My body was made to say goodbye.” Twitcher answered flatly. “Soul goes into body, stays for a while, moves on when ready.” They expounded, pulling aside their strange baggy robes to reveal the bare metal plates that made their chest. They then opened one of these plates, revealing a small glowing crystalline orb sat in an aulind aperture. “This is both my heart and soul. It goes, I go.” Twitcher sighed, locking their chest once more as they contemplated something.
“You’re a miracle!” Julie exclaimed through childlike glee, staring with such enthusiasm that her flat cap almost fell off. Sheepishly she replaced it, looking back at Solvi for reassurance. The Orsan suppressed a laugh, a sad expression taking hold shortly after. Morosely, she looked towards Mara’s room.
“I was given a miracle. I don’t know why. I failed.” Twitcher reported with distant stiltedness. They took the tatty portrait of Mira that Fred had returned, spattered with blood from his bleeding ear or some other injury. Twitcher could not express it in Gardish but found the irony of it potentially being elvish blood poignant. “Now I am far from my people. All things I loved are dust. I wonder what the project was for.” Twitcher confessed with a rueful expression in the dimming mechanical eyes.
“The elves are still here, right? And apparently, quite a few admirers of your boss.” Julie encouraged, a hand on Twitcher’s shoulder. They shrugged away in disgust, shaking their head vigorously.
“They are not admirers of Ir Tolves. They mangled all she stood for. What they call the Ir I do not recognize.” Twitcher spoke firmly, eliciting an apologetic look from Julie.
“Well, maybe you could tell a few of them? Might make the next clean up easier.” The chevalier joked to a derisive snort. Julie turned about to see Fred entering the kitchen while wiping snow off his cap. He seemed quite fond of the Idharan fur hat he’d ‘commandeered’ from the countess’ cloakroom. The skitti crossed the room with a bundle of papers under his arm tied with string, which he deposited on the central table Twitcher sat at. He then unceremoniously stood near the fire, rubbing his hands before it and cursing whatever muttonhead had chosen to settle this crater in Annun.
“Tell ‘em all the facts you want. They don’ give a damn.” Fred grunted as he blew between his hands. “The Army ain’t interested in what’s real. They wan’ to believe the world’s against ‘em. An’ there’s plenty of rich nobs willin’ to tell ‘em that.” He continued before returning to his paper project, unfolding the various artefacts he’d pilfered from the countess’ room. Through the various reports, maps and statements he perused with trepidation, he did not find what he looked for. Julie frowned at his flagrant disregard for procedure yet found herself inextricably drawn to the facts of this case. Solvi and herself had sat up late more than once floating theories and conjectures on what the Army wanted with so many victims. The darkest thoughts often lead to the answer ‘sport’.
“With the theft of the Crook, I don’t think we’re looking at random acts of violence anymore.” Solvi sighed with a hand gripping the back of her neck. Julie sounded her agreement, sure what that conclusion meant. The three of them regarded each other darkly as they considered what Fred and Arthur had learned on their sojourn.
“They kidnap ‘em. Take ‘em somewhere secret. Now they got somethin’ from Arawn.” Fred mused as his whiskers twitched, a hand pawing through maps of potential locations for this repository of lost souls. “Undead army? Pretty cold even f’them.” Fred suggested with a grim expression. He did not doubt for a moment they would. The question was whether they could or wanted to.
“She used to say undead armies aren’t as useful as people think.” Solvi rebuked sadly, a pall falling over the meeting. “They’re dumber, slower fleshy soldiers. Great for scaring away peasants. Not so great against a proper army.” She added before shaking her head, as if to rid herself of the dark thoughts swirling through her mind. “Besides, they don’t even have a necromancer smart enough to do all of that. The staff’s a battery not a crutch for bad magic wielders.” Solvi waved her hand dismissively, trying to recall any famous necromancers that were not currently sleeping or a ghost.
“If we leave aside the crook, what would we need copious amounts of warm bodies for?” Julie posited, as she had so many other times. Fred and Solvi began to enumerate all the various things from soldiers to sacrifices, only to be interrupted by a polite clearing of a mechanical throat. The three of them collectively turned to Twitcher.
“If your meeting disturbs my study, I have a suggestion.” Twitcher began, pulling one of their books from the tottering pile they’d built and thumbing to a marked page. Fred barely got to catch the title page as he saw it was a history of the Serenar Peninsula, Twitcher’s likely home eons ago. “This place is full of my people’s remains, yes? You dig for them, find shiny baubles to make your Army better.” Twitcher nodded with surety. The response was not enthusiastic as the group awkwardly attempted to mentally bargain on who would be the bearer of bad news. Julie, ever the martyr to Twitcher’s questions and conundrums, took the stage.
“Your people’s remains are there Twitcher, yes.” Julie sighed as she took a conciliatory tone with the Elysian. “When Mira died and the Godswar erupted, something happened to the peninsula. Since then, the dead have roamed the eight provinces. They kill anything that comes close. Sorry.” Julie explained with empathy, though it did little to stymy Twitcher’s grief as their hands came up to hide their face. The weak sobbing drew Julie and Fred to comfort them, attempting to reassure them against the horrors of history. Julie was thankful she did not mention that those who died within the provinces rose as undead themselves.
“Is there nothing to be done?” Twitcher asked after some moments of consoling, their voice quivering even though mechanical modulation. Solvi hefted the Guillotine as she walked towards Twitcher, holding it before them with a solemn expression.
“Short of equipping an army with these, no. We don’t know what caused it and the only person who could even speculate is currently asleep.” Solvi spoke firmly. Twitcher nodded weakly, knowing well that lies would do little. Even as comfort, they would turn sour later. Solvi then turned, a frown of thought overtaking her as Julie continued consoling Twitcher. Fred looked over to his friend and seemed to track her thoughts. “Twitcher’s input is helpful though. Perhaps they seek to end the curse. Though, again, they lack critical expertise.”
“The question has a fundamental flaw.” Lorana interrupted with a swift rap of her staff. She limped towards the table, setting her familiar upon it as she adjusted her spell book. “You are assuming that these people are, in fact, not imbeciles. The potential that they would arrogantly meddle with the tools of gods and call themselves mighty for doing so is a dangerous and clear possibility.” Lorana asserted with a dour expression as she leafed through the statements. She then picked up Fred’s with a critical eye, irises flying as she read with unsettling alacrity. Solvi resisted the urge to retort that the plan remained unchanged in the event of their idiocy. The Crook must be returned and those responsible cast down. “It seems they were taking the prisoners to an old temple, if I’m reading your horrifying approximation of elvish correctly. Well remembered, Master Seeker.” Lorana nodded to Fred as a rare smile muted her terrifying air but for a moment. Fred seemed more taken aback by the fact Lorana had complimented someone.
“How many old temples around here can there be?” Solvi asked Julie with some trepidation. If it were that easy, the chevaliers and army would already be there. Julie coughed awkwardly, sighing after a few moments of excuse searching.
“The chevaliers searched all ruins, in-use temples and anything loosely interpreted as a place of worship in our jurisdiction. Feelings on the force are running high and we would very much like to talk to Albrecht Van Tuil.” Julie had said the word ‘talk’ with such emphasis that Solvi briefly worried for the uptight elf’s safety. Though he was exceptionally hateful, Solvi demurred at the law enforcing street justice. She briefly recalled her time in the Guard. Some villains were so vile even the best could succumb to temptation. And the Guard were hardly the best if they let her in. “Count Michelle Laurent oversees a few temples within walking distance. He’s being difficult, as always.” Julie sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as Solvi woke from her reverie. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
“We can’t chase kidnappers and vandals over a jurisdictional issue?” Solvi demanded incredulously. She’d never heard the like. “Can’t Maddie work some diplomatic magic and make him fold?” She groaned with exasperation, taking up her tea almost violently.
“What good is Maddie going to do?” Lorana snorted. She’d busied herself looking through the rest of Fred’s notes, much to the skitti’s chagrin. She arched an eyebrow as she encountered diagrams for changes he wanted made to his rifle. “This would be more efficient if the primer were inside the mechanism.” Lorana suggested, indicating to the diagram.
“More efficient. More explosive.” Twitcher retorted with a smarmy tone. “Bad idea to make your gun open like a flower.” The artificer pulled their tools from their belt and looked the rifle over with an expert eye. “Leave with me, Fred. I need a project.” They confirmed, taking the rifle to their room which, if Solvi remembered correctly, was the forge in the stables used for repairing riding equipment.
“I’m impressed. You didn’t even call them names.” Solvi commented with a sarcastic tone. Lorana responded with the broadest, most condescending smile she could. “What could possibly have placed our resident magic expert in such a good mood?” The Orsan continued, as if trying to tickle the dragon’s tail a little more. Julie began edging over to intervene. Again.
“Ah yes! Your fumbling in the dark distracted me.” Lorana feigned surprise as she replaced the notes. “Mara is awake. Won’t speak a word but if you want to gawk at the moving statue, be my guest.” The archmage waved them goodbye as Solvi barely touched the ground on her way out. Even Fred abandoned his investigations with an excited flick of his ears.
The parlour had become overcrowded since that fateful night of the Herald’s arrest. Though the Army’s leadership now rested in Lureaux’s jail cells awaiting trial, the riot had been far from isolated. Idhara was merely the least affected of the nations, with Gardish and Renoran representatives appearing in the days since. They now stood in the parlour coordinating with the countess’ servants. As a result, the party had been relegated to the countess’ library where Twitcher often spent their hours learning what had transpired these last four thousand years. They had even been assisting Aldrich correct the many inaccuracies in the Herald’s speech. Fred and Solvi sat playing cards while Arthur gazed moodily into the fire, having spent his shift healing Mara’s injuries.
The library itself was a grand affair with bookshelves that stemmed from floor to ceiling, all carved of rich dark wood with ladders and gangways that ran the length of the room. The roof high above them was supported by decorative arches that separated beautifully painted ceilings. They held the portraits of the vampire queen holding a banner aloft over adoring humans, ships sailing across the globe and the legendary duel between Boros Northgard and Agrius VI, which ended the Yandite Empire. The well-mantled fireplace was flanked on either side by tall glass cases containing myriad mundane and magical artefacts. Prized of these seemed to be an old grandfather clock with unusual magical markings Arthur could not comprehend.
As the clock chimed, Lorana entered the library with a defeated expression. Her bird cawed angrily at Twitcher, who made an obscene gesture in kind. Solvi was still unsure exactly what the problem was.
“No change, then?” Arthur asked his compatriot, who’d left Geoffrey to continue his healing efforts. Three people capable of healing magic working around the clock had merely stabilized Mara’s condition. She had since refused to wake up from her surgery. It was poor tidings, even though several healers from the hospital had checked the work.
“Out like a drunken Orsan. Didn’t so much as stir at my voice, ungrateful child.” Lorana shook her head, settling in her usual armchair. With a snap of her fingers, the kettle removed itself from the heating pan and poured a cup of tea through the leaves in her strainer. As it steeped, Lorana plucked at the hem of her robes. “The healing magic is taking. Her vitals are returning to normal. And yet, she remains stubbornly unconscious. I cannot fathom it.” Lorana added with a contemptuous sip of her tea. The group had become comfortable with Lorana’s prickly nature, noticing that the woman seemed to detest everyone around her without distinction. Not a glowing recommendation but Arthur was willing to take anyone who wasn’t supremacist at this point.
“Is her brain damaged in some way?” Arthur inquired as he looked into the flames. He did not wish to ask. The words had left his mouth with such fear that Solvi looked up from her cards, breaking the chain of distractions she’d been entertaining.
“Your brain might be damaged in some way.” Lorana scoffed, sipping her tea with a dismissive little finger raised. “We have a ghost who can look in her head. He said it is as if she is dreaming.” The archmage sighed, staring into her cup for a long moment. Solvi, entranced by any news of Mara, noticed the woman’s lip quiver slightly. Her jaw was set. Maybe there was a heart under all that malice after all.
“She does not wish to wake.” Twitcher nodded confidently, taking books from the upper shelves. Lorana rolled her eyes whilst Arthur gave a pained expression. Solvi, however, was willing to entertain even the slightest chance of an explanation.
“What makes you say that?”
“Very similar thing happened to Mira. Placed herself in a long sleep.” Twitcher explained as they brought a pile of books to the table with a thud. They then began parsing through the pages, now reading about the elvish rebellions that led to the creation of Eurdale. Ironically for the moment, a rebellion waged against other elves. “Came after she made slavery legal again. Overcome with fear, rage, sadness. She did not want to feel them, so she slept.” Twitcher shrugged before a thought seemed to strike them, turning to the back of their latest book. “Lyn Van Areth still alive, yes? Ask her. She can tell you more. I was in Verilla.” The automaton waved a hand as if the group could simply ask the vampire queen herself for help. The incredulous looks shared by the party dismissed the notion, save for Solvi. She stood up and stretched, back cracking as she did so.
“I’ll have to beat you some other time, Fred. Julie is coming off shift soon.” Solvi smirked, pretending to admire the décor as she strode to the exit. Once firmly out of sight of the others, Solvi checked her coat. Satisfied it would protect her from the Idharan winter, Solvi grabbed the Guillotine from the umbrella rack. She marched with determination towards the gardens where she’d seen Maddie idling lately. She’d occupied her time not showing a hint of contrition for her part in their injuries. Instead, she’d busied herself brutalizing the Army rioters who, even now, insisted on trying to break into Lureaux’s manors.
Solvi eventually found her in the gazebo they’d occupied nights before. She felt a twinge of regret for that night as she entered. She sat herself opposite the vampire, who seemed occupied with a book and writing. Solvi cleared her throat, setting the Guillotine aside with a thud. The vampire looked up expectantly, irritation clouding the usual cordiality she had.
“Twitcher told me something pertinent.” Solvi began neutrally, a hand remaining perilously close to her weapon. “She said that when Mira was overcome with her duties as empress or Ir or however you call her, she put herself to sleep to escape herself.” The Orsan searched Maddie’s expression, only to find her returning the stare with a distinct evasiveness.
“Whilst a fascinating factoid, why did you tell me?” Maddie inquired with customary biting sarcasm, returning to her writing.
“The letter Renaud gave us. It said the queen was interested in meeting Mara. The vampire queen’s an old Elysian general. She’s a mage. Your sister curtseys to you.” Solvi spoke in a dangerous tone, as if warning a creature like the vampire queen of consequences. Maddie’s eyes flicked upwards beneath furrowed eyebrows. Her expression was grim. “You knew the woman. You might know how Mira woke up from that sleep. I’d say you owe us.” Solvi took a steadying breath to calm herself, though from rage or anxiety she knew not. The glare Maddie was giving her certainly implied the latter.
“Have a care, Solvi.” Maddie warned, snapping her diary shut with a dangerously diplomatic expression. “Were I to entertain this fantasy of yours, I’d say that Mira was a law unto herself. If she once put herself to sleep, it would not be so trivial a reason as suffering of the spirit. She was a slave. She was well acclimated to that pain.” Maddie then sighed, seeming to collect herself. “I’m sorry. I tore open her old wounds and flung her into danger. That suffering has now come to visit itself upon her in her most vulnerable moment.” Maddie apologized, emotion seeming to enter her voice. Solvi did not trust it, searching her expression with hostility. “In this moment I once again am reminded of the powerlessness I felt in those dark days. I wish I could help her, just as I wished I could have helped Mira. But no. Both women will do as they please. And they leave us to suffer for it.”
“And we love them all the same.” Solvi responded in a hardened voice, her hand toying with one of the many magical rings hanging from the Guillotine. Maddie looked to Solvi with an expression of such sadness that the Orsan had to reconsider her course. She steeled her heart against those woeful eyes, remembering the devastation they’d born witness to. Devastation their owner had ordered.
“I don’t think my feelings towards the Ir can be put into so simple a word. I was devoted, cordial even reverent of her.” Maddie began, eyes staring off into the middle distance. Perhaps memories had surfaced again. “I believed that through sheer force of will, she could restore the empire and bring about a more just world.” Maddie allowed herself a smile. A smile that wilted as soon as it had arrived. “Don’t give yourself to women like them. They are prone to righteous anger.” The vampire then stood, giving Solvi a firm grasp on the shoulder as she left into the sheets of snow before them. The silver-haired woman considered the advice, much as she wished not to. Her lie had only been a half-truth anyway. She gathered herself and picked up the Guillotine. Julie needed to be fetched from the station.
Making her way to the manor’s stable yard, Solvi greeted the old caretaker with a nod. His reddened, lined face lit up as he pulled one of the wotlings from their stable, handing the reigns to Solvi. The wotling preened and scratched with its front claws, puffing up in the cold air. Solvi took fruit from her pocket, offering it to the creature. Its long thin tongue wrapped about it and withdrew into the beak, wet crunching following thereafter. Satisfied her charge had been sufficiently bribed, Solvi mounted and bade the stable hand a good day. With a tap of her heels, she trotted through the streets of Lureaux.
The gothic grandeur of days past had been somewhat sullied as she rode through the tall townhouses of the well to do. Several had boarded up broken windows and cast hostile stares toward any who didn’t fit the mould. Solvi, travelling by wotling with a large weapon, received many such stares. Old soldiers had retrieved their service weapons, several of them wearing their Idharan army uniforms as they sharpened their blades. As dire as these circumstances were, they were nothing in comparison to the rest of the city.
As she rode down into the more modest houses, Solvi was forced to wrap her scarf about her mouth. The air was thick with cinders and smoke cast up from smouldering ruins. The dead had thankfully been collected though many funeral homes had become overwhelmed or destroyed. The city’s population now sat in front of the blackened edifices of their houses, dead eyed stares pondering where the next assault would come from. Solvi tried not to look, reminded all too strongly of the aftermath she’d witnessed in the Isles.
The poorest district near the harbour was Solvi’s destination. She was relieved as she entered through the gate that separated the manors and mansions from the destruction before her. Only the stone buildings remained, scorched with windows blown out. Their shattered remains had since been swept up, the citizenry evacuated to the surrounding towns and villages. The damage wrought was such that Solvi from her wotling could see the chevalier barracks that Julie worked at through the broken timbers. It put Solvi in mind of the burn pits she’d been ordered to operate during the war. The broken, blackened bones of what was once a city.
As her mount arrived before the station, she saw a small crowd of chevaliers shivering against the cold, burning timber in an old oak barrel. They seemed just as defeated and dejected as the citizenry, several sustaining injuries both fresh and tended. Their uniforms had been stained with soot. One of their sabres had even broken in two. She greeted them with as brave a face as she dared, tying her wotling’s reigns to the stable rings embedded in the wall.
Solvi eventually found Julie on the third floor of their little brick building. She was speaking with her commanding officer in conspiratorial whispers that grew even more subtle when she spied Solvi. After a wan smile to her commander and a firm grasp of his arm, she wrapped herself in the thick winter coat chevaliers were issued if they were lucky. Solvi wrapped a comforting arm about Julie and placed a kiss on the forehead. The two made their way from the commander before Julie pulled Solvi aside into her office. A mess of cabinets, a chaotic desk and half-upended chair were the most notable things Solvi saw.
“This is confidential, and I didn’t tell you if it isn’t.” Julie warned, nodding to the door which Solvi dutifully locked. She was sceptical as to whether it would prevent the commander overhearing, but assumed Julie knew best. “Our partners in Gard were tracking down the Army’s leadership. Still no inkling where Albrecht is. But last night there was an incident.” Julie began, searching through the draws of her desk before pulling a flat cap over her bobbed hair.
“A bit more than the incidents we’re already dealing with?” Solvi smiled teasingly. Julie’s disapproving stare and white knuckles resting upon the desk’s surface shifted her attitude in an instant. “Sorry. Go on.” Solvi apologized with a throat clearing.
“Yanhelm University was attacked. It was the middle of the night; the security detail was murdered. Archmage Merddyn and Gaius Renaud are missing. Renata Ver Coll was grievously injured.” Julie reported haltingly, attracting a gasp of horror from Solvi. Her hand flew to her lips, mind racing with the implications. Implications which Julie confirmed. “The Crook of Arawn is missing. According to the Legionnaires, the room was graffitied with Army slogans.” The chevalier sighed, unable to repress her feelings on the matter. “The dispatches have already left the station. Tonight’s news is going to be plastered with it.”
“Thank you.” Solvi said solemnly, enfolding Julie in an embrace before looking at her ruefully. “Mara still hasn’t woken up. They think it’s because she doesn’t want to.” She added, looking in the general direction of the manner meaningfully. Julie pulled a sceptical face before quickly correcting herself.
“I doubt she’ll enjoy the news then. Best keep the radio out of her room.” Julie reassured, patting Solvi’s back as she guided the taller woman out of the room. She referred to the idea Geoffrey had had. That a radio may encourage Mara’s mind to stay active. Solvi doubted her companion could even hear it much less process its words. The two of them walked to the wotling all the same, Solvi giving Julie a leg up due to the magnificent size of wotlings that carried Orsana.
The two of them returned to the manor swiftly, though Julie rode with her face pressed against Solvi’s back. The larger woman understood well that after a day of despair it was hardly encouraging to see all the work that yet remained. Solvi’s eyes flicked to a large stone building across the bay with iron bars at every window. Filled to capacity, the jail housed the Herald and all his minions. She considered just how many lives had been upended by his callous words. She still reserved a mote of contempt for each of his followers, though. The Herald and her mother had never been alone in their cruelty.
The pair of them arrived to find the manor in disarray. The countess stormed throughout the halls, searching for Maddie as one of her underlings brought ill tidings. The Gardish and Renoran representatives scurried from the manor and their host’s explosive temper. The party had been pressganged into searching for the mysterious vampire whilst Lorana sat with deliberate calm in near the fireplace. Arthur had been replaced by Geoffrey, who had his nose deep in a tome whilst experimenting on a jar of blood on the coffee table. Whatever he was doing, it had taken a dark sheen to the point where it was almost black.
“What happened?” Julie asked thin air, hanging her coat in the alcove that served as a cloakroom. Solvi did much the same, fastidiously removing any snow that had clung to it. Julie arched an eyebrow as she went so far as to throw it out of the door.
“That overstuffed yotul Renaud has gone and got himself kidnapped. Countess’ minions said as much, forgetting I have a bird.” Lorana scoffed, not looking up from her crossword puzzle. Her familiar croaked from its perch on the back of the armchair. “Yes, I know you’re not a bird. But explaining your true nature to the average cabbage brain takes too long. So, you’re a bird.” Lorana shot over her shoulder, jabbing the unfortunate creature with her staff. It squawked its disapproval, shimmying out of its mistress’ reach. “Idhara’s best and brightest my arse.” Lorana snorted derisively as she filled in a word.
“We were just about to tell you.” Julie blinked, still quite unable to process the forceful personality of Lorana. That was the polite way of putting it, in Solvi’s opinion.
“The rate at which you check for spies, you may as well have told the whole world. You’re very fortunate not everyone can whip up a fey dogsbody.” The archmage sniffed, turning the page of her newspaper before casting it into the flames with a roll of her eyes. “Haytham, you hack. The council should never have let your rag into our city.”
“Your city?” Solvi asked with feigned politeness, referring to the city-state of Lemuria. Created after the war as a check against Orsan military might, it was still a sore spot for many. Especially since it had been given over not to the victors but a gaggle of expert magicians.
“Aye. Our city. I don’t need to tell you what’ll happen if you attack me over it.” Lorana dismissed, waving an airy hand at the two of them without looking over. Solvi took a step forward, only to find Julie’s urgent hand pressed against her. “Oh, please give me an excuse, I beg you. I’ve lost count but another notch on my belt wouldn’t go amiss.” Lorana faced her then. The eyes that fixated on her were filled with a long-held anger. Solvi backed away with hands held up. “A city is the least you can do given what you took from me.” The archmage then returned to her usual bile level, her familiar cawing loudly in their general direction. Julie swiftly ushered Solvi away, keen to avoid a diplomatic incident. Especially given that neither of them was likely to survive said incident.
“Why is she still here?” Solvi frowned with disgust, wishing instead that she’d brought Renaud to his sana’s side. Were arrogance and casual threats currency in elvish society? No, Mara and Twitcher seemed sedate enough. Julie hurried through the library door behind Solvi, sitting her down for some tea moments after.
They instead travelled to the kitchens which Twitcher had taken to using to escape the constant questions the vampires were given to ask. The staff were skeletal given the riots, only the few in the servant’s quarters remaining. The pot of stew Julie had set aside for them boiled merrily in the expansive fireplace the kitchens boasted. Careful to avoid the jangling cookware hanging above the tables, Julie set about serving up.
“It’s just how she is, apparently. The war changed a lot of people.” Julie shrugged, tending to the pot and pouring some for Twitcher. The Elysian looked at her as if she were mad. Julie stared at the steaming cup for a second then over to the intricate metal helmet that made up Twitcher’s face. “Do…do you even eat?” Julie asked awkwardly of the torpid silence between them.
“My body was made to say goodbye.” Twitcher answered flatly. “Soul goes into body, stays for a while, moves on when ready.” They expounded, pulling aside their strange baggy robes to reveal the bare metal plates that made their chest. They then opened one of these plates, revealing a small glowing crystalline orb sat in an aulind aperture. “This is both my heart and soul. It goes, I go.” Twitcher sighed, locking their chest once more as they contemplated something.
“You’re a miracle!” Julie exclaimed through childlike glee, staring with such enthusiasm that her flat cap almost fell off. Sheepishly she replaced it, looking back at Solvi for reassurance. The Orsan suppressed a laugh, a sad expression taking hold shortly after. Morosely, she looked towards Mara’s room.
“I was given a miracle. I don’t know why. I failed.” Twitcher reported with distant stiltedness. They took the tatty portrait of Mira that Fred had returned, spattered with blood from his bleeding ear or some other injury. Twitcher could not express it in Gardish but found the irony of it potentially being elvish blood poignant. “Now I am far from my people. All things I loved are dust. I wonder what the project was for.” Twitcher confessed with a rueful expression in the dimming mechanical eyes.
“The elves are still here, right? And apparently, quite a few admirers of your boss.” Julie encouraged, a hand on Twitcher’s shoulder. They shrugged away in disgust, shaking their head vigorously.
“They are not admirers of Ir Tolves. They mangled all she stood for. What they call the Ir I do not recognize.” Twitcher spoke firmly, eliciting an apologetic look from Julie.
“Well, maybe you could tell a few of them? Might make the next clean up easier.” The chevalier joked to a derisive snort. Julie turned about to see Fred entering the kitchen while wiping snow off his cap. He seemed quite fond of the Idharan fur hat he’d ‘commandeered’ from the countess’ cloakroom. The skitti crossed the room with a bundle of papers under his arm tied with string, which he deposited on the central table Twitcher sat at. He then unceremoniously stood near the fire, rubbing his hands before it and cursing whatever muttonhead had chosen to settle this crater in Annun.
“Tell ‘em all the facts you want. They don’ give a damn.” Fred grunted as he blew between his hands. “The Army ain’t interested in what’s real. They wan’ to believe the world’s against ‘em. An’ there’s plenty of rich nobs willin’ to tell ‘em that.” He continued before returning to his paper project, unfolding the various artefacts he’d pilfered from the countess’ room. Through the various reports, maps and statements he perused with trepidation, he did not find what he looked for. Julie frowned at his flagrant disregard for procedure yet found herself inextricably drawn to the facts of this case. Solvi and herself had sat up late more than once floating theories and conjectures on what the Army wanted with so many victims. The darkest thoughts often lead to the answer ‘sport’.
“With the theft of the Crook, I don’t think we’re looking at random acts of violence anymore.” Solvi sighed with a hand gripping the back of her neck. Julie sounded her agreement, sure what that conclusion meant. The three of them regarded each other darkly as they considered what Fred and Arthur had learned on their sojourn.
“They kidnap ‘em. Take ‘em somewhere secret. Now they got somethin’ from Arawn.” Fred mused as his whiskers twitched, a hand pawing through maps of potential locations for this repository of lost souls. “Undead army? Pretty cold even f’them.” Fred suggested with a grim expression. He did not doubt for a moment they would. The question was whether they could or wanted to.
“She used to say undead armies aren’t as useful as people think.” Solvi rebuked sadly, a pall falling over the meeting. “They’re dumber, slower fleshy soldiers. Great for scaring away peasants. Not so great against a proper army.” She added before shaking her head, as if to rid herself of the dark thoughts swirling through her mind. “Besides, they don’t even have a necromancer smart enough to do all of that. The staff’s a battery not a crutch for bad magic wielders.” Solvi waved her hand dismissively, trying to recall any famous necromancers that were not currently sleeping or a ghost.
“If we leave aside the crook, what would we need copious amounts of warm bodies for?” Julie posited, as she had so many other times. Fred and Solvi began to enumerate all the various things from soldiers to sacrifices, only to be interrupted by a polite clearing of a mechanical throat. The three of them collectively turned to Twitcher.
“If your meeting disturbs my study, I have a suggestion.” Twitcher began, pulling one of their books from the tottering pile they’d built and thumbing to a marked page. Fred barely got to catch the title page as he saw it was a history of the Serenar Peninsula, Twitcher’s likely home eons ago. “This place is full of my people’s remains, yes? You dig for them, find shiny baubles to make your Army better.” Twitcher nodded with surety. The response was not enthusiastic as the group awkwardly attempted to mentally bargain on who would be the bearer of bad news. Julie, ever the martyr to Twitcher’s questions and conundrums, took the stage.
“Your people’s remains are there Twitcher, yes.” Julie sighed as she took a conciliatory tone with the Elysian. “When Mira died and the Godswar erupted, something happened to the peninsula. Since then, the dead have roamed the eight provinces. They kill anything that comes close. Sorry.” Julie explained with empathy, though it did little to stymy Twitcher’s grief as their hands came up to hide their face. The weak sobbing drew Julie and Fred to comfort them, attempting to reassure them against the horrors of history. Julie was thankful she did not mention that those who died within the provinces rose as undead themselves.
“Is there nothing to be done?” Twitcher asked after some moments of consoling, their voice quivering even though mechanical modulation. Solvi hefted the Guillotine as she walked towards Twitcher, holding it before them with a solemn expression.
“Short of equipping an army with these, no. We don’t know what caused it and the only person who could even speculate is currently asleep.” Solvi spoke firmly. Twitcher nodded weakly, knowing well that lies would do little. Even as comfort, they would turn sour later. Solvi then turned, a frown of thought overtaking her as Julie continued consoling Twitcher. Fred looked over to his friend and seemed to track her thoughts. “Twitcher’s input is helpful though. Perhaps they seek to end the curse. Though, again, they lack critical expertise.”
“The question has a fundamental flaw.” Lorana interrupted with a swift rap of her staff. She limped towards the table, setting her familiar upon it as she adjusted her spell book. “You are assuming that these people are, in fact, not imbeciles. The potential that they would arrogantly meddle with the tools of gods and call themselves mighty for doing so is a dangerous and clear possibility.” Lorana asserted with a dour expression as she leafed through the statements. She then picked up Fred’s with a critical eye, irises flying as she read with unsettling alacrity. Solvi resisted the urge to retort that the plan remained unchanged in the event of their idiocy. The Crook must be returned and those responsible cast down. “It seems they were taking the prisoners to an old temple, if I’m reading your horrifying approximation of elvish correctly. Well remembered, Master Seeker.” Lorana nodded to Fred as a rare smile muted her terrifying air but for a moment. Fred seemed more taken aback by the fact Lorana had complimented someone.
“How many old temples around here can there be?” Solvi asked Julie with some trepidation. If it were that easy, the chevaliers and army would already be there. Julie coughed awkwardly, sighing after a few moments of excuse searching.
“The chevaliers searched all ruins, in-use temples and anything loosely interpreted as a place of worship in our jurisdiction. Feelings on the force are running high and we would very much like to talk to Albrecht Van Tuil.” Julie had said the word ‘talk’ with such emphasis that Solvi briefly worried for the uptight elf’s safety. Though he was exceptionally hateful, Solvi demurred at the law enforcing street justice. She briefly recalled her time in the Guard. Some villains were so vile even the best could succumb to temptation. And the Guard were hardly the best if they let her in. “Count Michelle Laurent oversees a few temples within walking distance. He’s being difficult, as always.” Julie sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as Solvi woke from her reverie. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
“We can’t chase kidnappers and vandals over a jurisdictional issue?” Solvi demanded incredulously. She’d never heard the like. “Can’t Maddie work some diplomatic magic and make him fold?” She groaned with exasperation, taking up her tea almost violently.
“What good is Maddie going to do?” Lorana snorted. She’d busied herself looking through the rest of Fred’s notes, much to the skitti’s chagrin. She arched an eyebrow as she encountered diagrams for changes he wanted made to his rifle. “This would be more efficient if the primer were inside the mechanism.” Lorana suggested, indicating to the diagram.
“More efficient. More explosive.” Twitcher retorted with a smarmy tone. “Bad idea to make your gun open like a flower.” The artificer pulled their tools from their belt and looked the rifle over with an expert eye. “Leave with me, Fred. I need a project.” They confirmed, taking the rifle to their room which, if Solvi remembered correctly, was the forge in the stables used for repairing riding equipment.
“I’m impressed. You didn’t even call them names.” Solvi commented with a sarcastic tone. Lorana responded with the broadest, most condescending smile she could. “What could possibly have placed our resident magic expert in such a good mood?” The Orsan continued, as if trying to tickle the dragon’s tail a little more. Julie began edging over to intervene. Again.
“Ah yes! Your fumbling in the dark distracted me.” Lorana feigned surprise as she replaced the notes. “Mara is awake. Won’t speak a word but if you want to gawk at the moving statue, be my guest.” The archmage waved them goodbye as Solvi barely touched the ground on her way out. Even Fred abandoned his investigations with an excited flick of his ears.
