Looking over his shoulder, Manqoba watched as a thick plume of smoke billowed up from the center of the city, which itself appeared so small now in the distance. He then turned his head downwards so that his vision rested upon his hand as he experimentally wiggled his fingers about, confirming that the lingering numbness was finally departing from his fingertips. However, his bones still felt brittle and weak, and he yet found it troublesome to run any meaningful distance, for his recovering body stumbled often as he crossed over the dry, dusty soil.

  Despite his aches and pains, he continued on for a little further at a modest jog until he finally reached one of those signature shoddy roads which crisscrossed this poor County. Upon this one there loomed an ominous carriage of gothic design. At its head were six large black horses with wild and unkempt manes, which all appeared nearly as unfriendly as the driver who managed them. He was a huge man with tanned skin, wide of shoulder and thick of arm, with posture forced into an awkward forward lean by the hump that protruded from his back.

  “Get in.” He growled down at Manqoba with open hostility, and no sooner had he voiced this demand than did the door of the carriage creak open, seemingly of its own accord!

  Manqoba approached the steps of the vehicle, but before entering himself he first he tossed in his two ruined, bent blades, which clattered noisily against the hardwood floor inside. With a grunt of effort the injured warrior then heaved his body up the short built-in stairs using the aid of a handle affixed beside the doorway. He all but fell onto the cushioned seat within and let out a weary sigh of relief, his aching body relaxing as it sensed it was finally free to rest. Meanwhile, one of the pre-existing occupants reached over to pull the carriage door shut behind him. All the while the two passengers who filled the seat opposite Manqoba remained shrouded in shadow, but for their matching pairs of red eyes, with catlike irises which glowed unsettlingly in the darkness.. For the brief moment when one of their arms came into view as it shut the carriage door, one could plainly see the almost sickly pale skin of its wrist and hand peeking from beneath the cuff of a military-style uniform jacket made from a fine porcelain-white fabric, which was accented with bright embroidery and trimmed with gold thread. Just before the door closed and further enshrouded all of them in blackness, Manqoba could just make out the faint outline of a woman sitting beside the uniformed man.

  “It is a rare sight indeed for you to be in such a state, my dear Warrior!” A female voice rang out from that veiled and shadowed seat, her velvety voice blanketed in a tone of feigned concern.

  “I did not expect for the two of you would come all of the way out here to check on me.” He said in a voice laced with suspicion. By now, all of him but his eyes were obscured in that all-encompassing shadow, the only sliver of light reaching him due to a crack in the shutters drawn over one of the carriage windows.

  “Well you are our favorite, after all!” The woman replied smoothly.

  “...and how did it go?” Asked the unseen man, his voice cold and almost entirely lacking in any emotion whatsoever, beyond an evident minor pang of annoyance at the jesting words of his female companion.

  Manqoba leaned his shoulders back to rest his elbows against the top of the seat, propping himself up ever so slightly. “It was a disaster.” He replied with an irritated huff of his own. “The last thing I could see was that the Petricians have breached the walls. Borney will soon be dead, if he is not already.”

  “You said you would handle it.” The man replied, his tone still flawlessly even and calm, and yet somehow he radiated an oppressive air of anger and accusation nonetheless. “Truthfully I had thought it something of a waste to send you, of all of our resources, to this backwater little County. But then you somehow came up short?”

  Manqoba furrowed his brow, obviously affronted by his employer’s emotionless yet scathing words. “That is because your informants vastly underestimated the resources which the new Count had at his disposal!”

  “The Baron’s son? He is the cause of your misfortune?” The woman chortled in amusement. “Surely you can come up with a better excuse than that!”

  The southerner reclined fully once more, folding his arms across his chest and clicking his tongue in annoyance. “Lengar’s plan went up in smoke the second that funds from the Barony arrived in Petrice. Edmonton’s were then foiled once the Lord discovered his true identity, and mine were bested after Knights stepped in to fight on the Count’s behalf.”

  As his eyes adjusted to the dark interior of that space Manqoba could faintly see the outline of the man, who leaned forward then to rest his chin upon his interlocked fingers. “They sent so many Knights? To besiege a walled city?”

  Manqoba eyed the other man–or rather, what little of him he could make out– with a wary and assessing gaze. It sounded almost as if this aloof figure was growing intrigued after hearing the details of how their plans had been disrupted, rather than expressing the frustration or disappointment one would normally expect.

  “The village-folk... it appears he made use of the failed tribunal to his advantage. He used the opportunity presented by such a large gathering to throw together a hodge-podge fighting force of his own to send alongside the Knights.”

  The man asked no further questions, but the woman took that moment of contemplative silence to chime in herself. “Surely, even with the intervention of the Knights, with your talents at its disposal, there should have been an ample opportunity for Coronton to achieve its victory?”

  “There would have been... if not for those damned Monster Hunters.”

  “So they are real then..?” She replied, now clearly also leaning forward as her own interest was piqued. “Oh, Brother, I think we will have to keep a much closer eye on Petrice in the future!”

  “...and its fledgling Count, as well.” The man added, now with the distant air of one who is deep in thought.

  “Well! I suppose you are most forgiven, then.” The woman said, clapping her hands together in satisfaction. “Who could have foreseen such a series of… unexpected occurrences? And so many at one time?”

  Manqoba let out a short breath of relief as the conversation ended, and promptly leaned his head back so that he was staring up at the dark ceiling of the carriage.

  “Now we must make our way back to the Capital, and double-quick!” The woman announced, wrapping her knuckle sharply against the back wall, past which sat the driver. The carriage lurched forward suddenly as he urged the horses to set out. “We have a new mission for you, my dear... you are to attend the Founding’s Day Ball!”

  Uldred swept through the simmering heat with reckless abandon, her heavy, sweat-soaked clothes and thick leathers providing her with an acceptable amount of protection from the tongues of fire which licked and lapped at her as she passed through them. Regardless, as was usual for her, she was not wracked with worry over her own safety. The flames had already fully spread across the second level of the castle, and were just beginning to crawl up to the third as she reached the top of the stairs. She drew her heavy cloak over her arm and covered her face in an attempt to create a bulwark between herself and the thick fog of stinging, blinding smoke which hung heavily near the ceiling and burned her watering eyes as she frantically glanced about. She had not a clue as to the whereabouts of her quarry, and so Uldred took to striking down each door lining the hall and peeking her head inside them, only to find empty rooms and storage spaces one after another. All too soon, her head start against the destruction had been entirely spent, and the crawling flames began to catch up with her inside that deadly corridor!

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  Her head grew dizzy and faint as the air became thick once more, and the pace at which her anxiety grew was only matched by her frustration with her own aimlessness. As she pressed on through this hellish environment a detail finally caught her eye, as she noticed the smoke abruptly beginning to billow quickly in a peculiar direction. She hastily followed this single, merciful clue towards a large double-doorway that had been left ajar, and as she ducked her way through, finding herself outside on a small stone balcony, she spied two small bodies laying motionless upon the floor!

  In her rush over towards them Uldred nearly tripped over a third figure which lay slumped in the center of the burning room. Glancing down, she saw the somewhat familiar and most hateful face of Mayor Borney, his face frozen in a visage twisted by the rage he must have felt in the final moments before his death. Uldred clicked her tongue down at him and kicked his body to the corner of the room as easily as if it were a small stone in her path. However, as she did so a small clattering sound caught her ear, and she watched as something small, wooden and somewhat angular rolled out of the dead man’s grasp. It was the stolen Seal of Petrice! She reached down and plucked the object from the floor as she went past, and then she swept out onto the balcony and just as easily scooped up those two small, limp bodies as well.

  Alvin was first, and him she flung over her shoulder like he was a sack. Meanwhile, Niklas she held more comfortably, resting his knees and neck in the crook of either arm, while she braced his back up against her forearm. She saw his eyelids shake and just barely peek up at her, and he mumbled something inaudible.

  “Rest.” She ordered him, though she was not sure he was lucid enough to understand her.

  Unfortunately, as she turned around to make her way back out through the castle from the direction she had come, she was met with an impregnable wall of fire and smoke, one almost two-fold thicker and hotter than what she had already endured during her first passage! Even for a woman possessing such legendary resilience as hers, her chances of surviving such an inferno would be most unlikely–and the outcome for the small and frail men she held in her arms was so obvious it did not even bear consideration.

  Crack!

  One side of the floor of that small balcony jolted downwards beneath where Uldred stood, nearly causing her to lose her footing and fall! The wood and stone which supported this small structure had been greatly damaged by the heat already, and having the added burden of carrying her massive frame, it was now beginning to give way. With only seconds to react, Uldred glanced one last time down that blistering and deadly tunnel, before she turned away, tightened her grip on her precious cargo, and leapt over the side of the balcony and into the open air!

  It was not fear for her own survival which had caused her hesitation, for she had fallen greater distances in the past, and with less choice and control in the matter besides. However, this time as she plummeted through the air, she grit her teeth and prayed that the men she carried, who may already have sustained damage in either the battle or the fire that followed hot on its heels, would not break like dry twigs upon her impact with the ground. Wind rushed past her and violently tossed her hair and clothes about as her velocity grew faster with every passing second. And then, all too quickly, she landed on her feet upon solid ground with a resounding thud , bending her knees immediately as she touched down, crouching as low as she could go without falling to her seat upon the earth. A familiar and unpleasant quivering sensation ran up the entire length of her body as her muscles screamed from the shock of such an impact. Yet it only took a few moments for her to regain enough control over herself to begin to stand back up–only for a shadow to suddenly blossom over her, giving her only a split second to look up and take in the remains of that small stone balcony before they crashed down atop her!

  Niklas was in the middle of the most incredible dream. As he struggled with every drop of willpower he had to keep awake, so that he may escape the smoke and the flames that would inevitably smother him there, he blinked many times. They were the kind of long, heavy blinks in which time appeared to skip ahead whenever he managed to reopen his sleep-crusted eyes. Yet each moment he regained the ability to form a thought, he could do nothing but despair at his own helplessness, as the flames crept nearer and nearer to where he lay, too weak to move any part of his body beyond his eyelids–

  –and then, suddenly, he was floating! His lungs and eyes no longer stung with the acrid fumes of smoke, and as he peeked tentatively out through his lashes, he could see nothing but a large, dark shape looming over him, framed by a bright light that shone at its back. For a brief moment he thought to move his body in some kind of reaction, but every inch of him felt unfathomably heavy, as if he had been enshrouded under a blanket lined along its edges with massive stones. After a few moments his eyes began to adjust, and he laid them upon the most beautiful and terrible face he had ever seen in his life.

  He took in a face with almond-shaped eyes framed by long, thick lashes. They had a wide mouth with slightly thin lips, a tall and narrow pointed nose, and well-defined cheeks and jawline. Long, dark hair spilled down at either side of this handsome face, nearly obscuring the horrible scarring which marred the right side of it. This scar bisected their brow and traveled down over their eye, past their right nostril and all the way down to their chin, and it wrapped all the way back to their ear. What skin remained appeared as if it had melted like candle wax and was mottled in unsettling shades of brown, gray and black, and in many places it had been peeled away entirely, revealing the raw muscle, sinews, bones and even teeth that should have lay beneath it.

  “A-Angel…” Niklas murmured, feeling as if his mind had been completely enraptured by this being’s arresting, dichotomous and otherworldly countenance.

  …I must be dead. A shepherd of God, marred in its tireless battle against the horrific armies of Hell, must have been sent to retrieve my soul to Heaven!

  As if to confirm his assumptions, he felt the being leap into flight, undoubtedly flying them up towards the Holy City and away from the mortal Earth below!

  Strangely, although knew he was headed towards his eternal reward, Niklas felt a sharp pang of regret well up within his heart. His thoughts drifted to his Countess, with whom he had always quarreled. He felt that he had but only begun to know her, and he had held some budding hopes that they had been beginning to get along. He had also been especially looking forward to showing her the vision of Petrice that he saw in his mind, of giving her the gift of watching her people grow happy and healthy, fed and safe. Suddenly, he realized that he did not, in fact, want to leave! Despite the suffering and countless hardships he had endured since he arrived in Petrice, he wanted to stay and continue his work!

  What is she going to do without me? He wondered to himself, feeling the anxiety grow and curdle in his gut. The dowry money will dry up eventually, and soon that giantess will be back to clearing out highwaymen at bargain prices, or she’ll hole up in that messy burrow of hers and rot away… Oh, she’s a hopeless Lord on her own, but if I’m there I can help!

  Like a crippled man struggling to move his paralyzed limbs, Niklas pulled with all of his might against the heavy force which held him in place. It was as if he lay buried underneath a million small pebbles, and he could feel the immovable weight begin to crumble away, just a little, as he struggled and writhed.

  Let me wake! Send me back! I still have so much to do– He begged in his mind, even while his thoughts met with nothing but all-consuming silence.

  Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the depthless black void where he had floated became lighter, and he gradually grew conscious enough to realize he was seeing through the backs of his eyelids. All at once, the weight against which his muscles had so desperately fought vanished away. He immediately threw himself up to a seated position!

  “Uldred!” He cried out into the empty room in which he found himself.

  He recognized this place–he was back in his own bed, in his private room at the top of one of the tall spires of Castle Petrice. He sat in silent shock for a few moments, taking in his surroundings, before he realized the terrible, aching pain emanating from nearly every joint in his frail, bruised and perspiring body! He fell onto his back once more, clenching his teeth and sucking in air between them in an attempt to acclimate to the overwhelming waves of discomfort. Then he reached one throbbing arm over to a rope above the end-table beside his bed and pulled firmly upon it.

  Somewhere, in the levels situated far below his remote spire, the servant bell began to chime.