A dark room doesn’t smell pleasant. I'm not sure where the smell is coming from. All I know for sure is that I have smelled this acrid stench in the past and it didn't bring anything good with it. It never bodes well. It makes my breath quicken and my heart beat like an alarm. If only I could remember what it is. Perhaps a liquid?
I can't see the walls of the room as clearly as I would like. It must be made of stone. Just like the floor I stand on with my bare feet. Just as cold and unpleasantly impersonal. Like everything here.
I took a breath so I could scream and find out where I was. To see if I'm alone here, but the question was answered for me without me having to ask it.
A terrifying face emerged from the darkness. Grey eyes survey my helplessness with perfect cruelty. The grin reveals a row of perfectly white teeth ready to bite into my desperation, taste my fear. Long fingers ran through strands of blond hair, pinned them back so that not a single hair would get in his way. He always pays careful attention to it.
He came closer. With gentle movements, he lifted my hand and drew a broken C on the exposed forearm.
I suddenly wanted to scream with everything I have, with my entire being. Cry for help. But the air I took into my lungs a moment ago is gone.
I can't say a single word, I can only cough. Something sickeningly warm filled my mouth. I tried to get rid of it, but I couldn't. And there is no one to help me. In the resulting silence, I can only hear how I choke and the thick drops of blood fall with a splash on the cold ground.
I finally woke up in my own bed, drenched in icy sweat. I sat up, safely in the South. Steven is lying next to me on a pile of pillows, it's still dark outside and a cool night breeze is blowing in. I took a deep breath, ran my hands over my own throat, trying to quell the nagging need to check on it. Although I am fully aware that it was just a stupid dream. A nightmare that will never leave me. Let me try to escape it as much as I want to.
"I thought, when you’re with me," he mumbled sleepily. I looked up from the untouched skin on my left forearm, all traces of the ugly mark fading away with the time that had passed since our last encounter. "your dreams don't seem so bad." I hate waking him up. He insists on waiting until I go back to sleep and I usually can't do that.
"Dreams are always the same." I whispered and stroked his cheek. "Try to get some more sleep." I threw off the blanket and stood up. The wooden floor is nothing like the one from the dream. Like everything in the South, it's pleasantly warm, and it's trying to transfer that warmth to me.
I need to get rid of everything that reminds me of that dream. I got rid of my sweaty clothes and ran hot water on my skin. Once the icy feeling is gone, everything will be so much better. I will be haunted for the rest of the day by a face I am constantly trying to run away from. But it will be better that way. Must be.
I didn't go back to the bedroom. I hope he falls asleep. And I will be able to think about everything in peace. It usually doesn't cause him any problems, he falls asleep anywhere, at any time - I quite envy him for such an ability. So I got dressed and headed to the living room. If I can't find anything better, I can go through the letters on the table.
A decanter made of cut glass is already waiting for me with a glass. Only the blue pills are missing and the party is complete. I left the heavily spiced alcohol to wash away the bitter taste of the pills. I exchanged the empty glass for a pile of letters and got to work. According to the clock on the wall, it is only four in the morning. Perfect. I sat down on the sofa and opened the first letter.
"I thought you’d come back." it sounded reproachful.
"I'm not tired." I answered quickly. I don't feel like going back to bed and the captivity of my dreams.
"Sure you are," he lays down next to me, watching me curiously. "you're just too stubborn to admit it."
"I'm not stubborn," I protested, tossing away the open letter. It slid off the table top and landed on the floor. I just shrugged. Good for me. I don't plan to answer it. It is not within my competence to deal with the approval of conversions, I know nothing about it and I don't really care if some baron asks for it.
"I don't know anyone more stubborn," he grumbled, adjusting his pillow on the sofa, laying down again. "maybe father could compete with you, but even he backs down from time to time." I shook my head disapprovingly. Edgar is much more unyielding, moody and petulant. How can Steven something like that compare?
I opened another letter, this time from Lord Haiden Beau Galleren, who very openly disagrees with the newly elected member of the Council. He doesn't like him being from Athran and another mage. This put the mages in the Council clearly outnumbered. As if that wasn't the whole point. He proves to be a terrible ignoramus at times.
"We should take time off more often. Yesterday was fun." Steven interrupted me from the Lord's complaining.
"It was." I agreed. I skimmed the text on the page again with my eyes. Galleren's appalling handwriting provokes me even more. As if he couldn't afford to hire someone who could write legibly. He and his fellow Southerner Bearon thought they owned the entire Council, and now their delusion is melting before their eyes. Must truly suck for them.
"You don't seem very excited." I peripherally saw how he folded arms in offense.
"Huh?" I looked up from the letter, he’s watching me intently. "Sorry, I didn't mean to," I put the piece of paper on the table top to fully focus on him. Galleren will have to wait for his answer. "yesterday was perfect. In every way. And while I'd prefer not to be part of the celebrations in Athran, I can't wait to spend the whole week with you." I put on the sweetest, most charming smile I could come up with this early in the morning. Apparently that's enough for him. He closed his eyes again with a satisfied smile.
"You'll be in the North all week, just mine… except for some duties. It'll just be a few dinners with my friends and a few temple visits." I'm honestly curious about how he'll behave in his own circle of friends. We’re mostly around people we both know well or just me.
"I can't wait to meet your friends. But don't count on me going to the temple."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't have the slightest desire to listen to distorted stories about my family," I explained without much interest. It just offers itself. "let alone in Athran." Steven chuckled softly.
I returned to the complaints in the letter. According to the letter, Iohanna had no right to propose Gallien. A pencil and paper appeared in my hand. I stared at the blank page for a while before I came up with an answer I liked. I wrote a few lines in which I referred to the internal rules of the Council and the fact that each of the members can propose a candidate at their own discretion. To this I added the note that his personal beliefs about mages on the Council play no part in this regard, and there is no place for his personal feelings either. I signed and folded the letter with a sigh.
"Is there something wrong?" his eyes are still closed. I assumed he had fallen asleep.
"I'm just trying to figure out why is Galleren still a member of the Council." I made the pencil disappear, the letter moved to the large table where Riley can pick it up and deliver it.
"Because Council members are elected indefinitely?" it sounds more like a rhetorical question.
"Thank you, as if I didn't know." I blurted out angrily. I don't want to argue with him, he takes it quite personally, even if it doesn't directly concern him. "He's only fifty-seven."
"Only, right… if it bothers you so much, you can call him off." he opened his eyes, frowning as he did so. "I'd say you've had reason to for a long time."
"I don't want to call him off or get rid of him otherwise before you think about it. It's too much work." I overtook him with a smile. "I just don't like his comments about mages. He thinks he owns the world because he got where he is without magic, but he just inherited what his family built. He didn't accomplish anything on his own. He acts like he owns the whole country and the only sensible thing he's come up with lately is tax reform and that's probably dictated to him by Bearon. They're more interested in that than the increasing attacks and…" I took a deep breath and exhaled again. "It doesn't matter. You really should get some sleep."
"I am not tired." he smiled mischievously. I leaned towards him interrupted by a loud knock.
"Today will be something." I opened the door without getting up.
Damien burst in, wearing a bright white uniform with an intricate geometric pattern on the shirt under his coat, a package in hand. "I was hoping you'd still be up." started immediately. My gaze shot to the clock. The large hand has bravely crossed the first half of the dial and is about to ascend to the other.
"Actually, I'm already up," I stood up and stretched my stiff muscles. Whatever he's up to, I'm going to have to warm up. "what do you want?"
"A few hours on Lemford, a bit of sleep, maybe something stronger, shinier. There's an event in the Gardens… guess you're not asking what I want. Stephan thinks we haven't been to the Far East for some time and we need to remind the locals." he simply announced. He put the red box down and looked at us both with a big smile.
"That's so cool that he thinks that." I yawned. I do not want to go there. The far east means a trip to Mergo Hensya. A country that can't handle its own magic loads. Contractually, its independent cities are attached to Zessia, effectively subject to the Heirs. And the things that happen there cannot be found anywhere else. The problem is it will be a waste of a good two days. "I can't just leave."
"Sure you can. I already spoke to the secretary… What's his name? Relly? Rallee?" he pointed towards the door. "It doesn't matter, everything is arranged and it's only three days."
"It's never just three days, Jim." I laughed. He knows. With him, it's first a celebration, then a bit of work and more booze.
"I brought you something," he nodded towards the box.
"I know, exactly the same as always. Another uniform." I surrendered and reached for the box. I know it's a uniform.
Damien stopped. "I wouldn't have to bring them all the time if you stopped destroying them," he protested.
"Do you have any idea how hard it is to get the blood off?"
"No and neither do you." he straightened his own gloves with a laugh. I hope his good mood lasts. "Please, my little princess, would you be so kind and go change? I would be extremely grateful."
Instead of answering, I rolled my eyes and went to get dressed. There's no way I'm going to squirm out of it anyway. I once swore to serve and now I have no choice. Not even the crown will save me. And at least a trip with Damien will make me think about something different.
I pulled on a pair of white pants, rolled up the sleeves of a white shirt with an intricate triangle pattern, and threw an open-sleeved coat over it. The cut of the coat is more reminiscent of a cloak, in none else but bright white. I wish I could stick daggers in my high boots, but I don't have that option. The only thing missing is the gloves, but I'll put them on later, for now I've pinned them to my waist, along with a single dagger.
I went back to Steven and Damien. They talk quietly, and from the way Steven is scowling, he doesn't like me leaving at all. He probably thinks it's an unnecessarily risky ride Damien is forcing me to without him realizing it's part of my job and I'm doing it voluntarily. I actually enjoy it.
"I am ready." I announced.
"Hair, Andrea."
"I'll braid them later." Damien looked over me, checking every crease from my head down to my feet. He would not allow my uniform to be incomplete or lacking in any other way. That would spoil his portrait of our family.
"You don't have a sword," he pointed out sternly. With a sigh, I had to agree with him. It didn't occur to me that I would need it right away. I quickly corrected that fact, tucking my sword to my waist and throwing up my hands in an unspoken question. He looked me over again, I know he's also checking the direction the seams are turned in. He came to me, straightened my sleeve and finally nodded in satisfaction.
"White looks good on you," Steven whispered as I hugged him goodbye. I don't really enjoy having to leave him here, but it sure is better than him going with us. "Do you have to leave?"
"Of course, it's my job. The real one, you know?"
"So you're just going to disappear, for three days?"
"So I'll just disappear." I confirmed with a smile. "But I'll come back like I always do. Be careful, promise?" I kissed him and took a step back.
"Same goes for you."
A dark room with old wallpaper looks quite pleasant. The furniture is arranged around the walls in such a way it doesn’t interfere with anyone who decides to move here. In addition, there is a round carpet in the middle, which only confirms my assumption. We are in an administrative building.
"What exactly did Stephan say?" I turned to Damien. Smiling from ear to ear, he looks at his watch, probably trying to set the correct time. And he certainly has a whole series of biting remarks prepared.
"Do you want to hear the whole thing or should I cut it short for you?"
"That is a good question." we only have three days, and recounting their conversation would take up a significant portion of the allotted time. Stephan likes to explain everything to the smallest detail so that none of us accidentally interpret it our own way. Like I did so many times. "I'll settle for the bare minimum." I finally decided. I leaned against the top of the nearest table, I don't feel like ruining the perfectly white uniform on the old chair cover.
"Some time ago I found people breaking our laws here in Mergo. Draining magic, selling artifacts, some killing other mages for it… the classics." he speaks with such disinterest it surprises me. He is mostly interested in people trying to make extra money on magic. He likes to show them why they shouldn't have done it, in a very explicit way. "What got me was this letter." he pulled a crumpled page from his coat. "It's from the local guard commander, a woman came to him saying she witnessed a power removal with the help of a crystal." I rejected the piece of paper. He wouldn't miss anything important if he wants my help. "Another witness then claimed to have seen the perpetrator. But guess what happened to that witness before he could describe him. Stephan wants us to investigate, but it's even more interesting." he paused dramatically.
What could be more interesting than breaking the highest law? We're here for it personally. "Jim…" it's too early for his riddles.
"There is someone here who is interested in opening doors to other worlds. Thanks to those crystals, he got somewhere and let something else pass through here. Some being..." he approached me theatrically. "isn't it perfect?"
"It certainly has been a while." last time about eighty years ago. Back then, a complete madman was behind everything, and together with him we had to burn half the city. I would like to avoid something like that. The burning city stinks. And you just can't get that smell out of your hair. "But what do you need me for?" he can handle this himself.
"Well, for one thing, I need a translator, someone who has no problem speaking the old language or some local dialects." he put the letter back in his pocket.
"You need me to translate the language you taught me to speak?"
"Steph taught you that, not me. I think your first words should have been Jonathan is a jerk, no matter in which language.” he grinned proudly only to be met with my anger. Not because he isn't right, but I refuse to add to their disagreements. "And secondly, I'm not sure how many more fun trips like this we have left," he chuckled nervously. I don't see where he's going with this.
"How many do we have left… you’re going somewhere?"
"I'm not going anywhere. I meant you, if you want to go back to the South, I won't stop you." he added in a tone that almost offended me. If I didn't know Damien, I'd almost think he's jealous of the time I spend with Steven, but it's Damien who disappears for days at the first party.
"Going back to all the complaints I have on the table and giving you all the fun? Not a chance." I smiled as I put on my gloves. For a long time I did not understand why gloves are part of our uniform, they seem like a beautiful accessory. Until my beloved uncle forced me to stick my hands into the most disgusting things. Corpses being just a weak decoction. "So what's the plan?"
"I don't have one." he tried his stern look as he reached for my hair nonchalantly. I don't even try to stop him, it's his—and my favourite ritual—before everything that lies ahead. "We'll decide after the meeting with the mayor. He should have information that would make the whole thing easier for us." he checked me one last time and motioned for me to follow him to the door. It's not his first time here. He led me up the stairs to a more spacious room. The long windows let in enough light, the sun has already climbed into the sky here, while it is still dark at home.
Damien didn't stop to look around or ask for directions. He walked confidently through the room and continued down the short corridor to the door at the end. "You know your way around here." I didn't forgive myself for the comment.
"Yes, we are in the administration building in Se'masse. I spend a lot of time here." he specified. Se'masse is a key point in our little empire, the surrounding areas are controlled from here, and Damien is in charge of them all. I just don't know why he put so much effort into managing this area, Jon should be taking care of it. I have been here only twice in person and it was always a short visit. I can roughly recall the spot on the map marking this significant shithole, but that's where my knowledge ends.
"I see." I mumbled in response. He knocked quickly, the door opened with a soft click.
Damien was the first to enter the small, not very spacious office. The books are almost falling from the overcrowded shelves, the table is pushed aside because of the repulsive green sofa. Grey wallpaper clings to the wall with its last strength. And the light struggles with the thick curtains over the window, through which it cannot get in. It's worth mentioning a cage with a large bird with colourful feathers, obviously not from here. Nobody cares in the least about the feathers all around. In other words, I guessed the shithole perfectly.
A young woman does not fit in the room in the slightest. She stood up and walked around the table in a tight black dress, the fabric highlighting her curves. Damien's attention will certainly not escape it. "My lady, my lord," she speaks without the slightest hint of an accent, she must have either grown up in Zessia or spent a lot of time with someone from there. Officially, in Se'masse, is spoken the old language, and mainly simplified versions of it, even though it is our province. The Imperial somehow didn't take hold here. The woman quite honestly surprised me. "I would like to welcome you to the free city of Se'masse on behalf of my father."
"Everything alright with your father?" Damien asked carefully. The woman is definitely his type - pretty but still very ordinary. He never picks ones that stand out and I'll never understand. He can have any and always settles for absolute average.
"But sure, nothing we can't deal with. I think he works too much." she smiled sincerely. With a smile only he would appreciate. She reached for something on the table and handed him a thick folder. The movement made me notice the gold ring wrapped around her finger, he surely did too. "He wanted me to pass this on to you."
Damien picked up the folder, skimmed through it, and nodded in satisfaction. I've seen the move a hundred times, he knows exactly what's going on and he's happy with the results. With his gaze fixed on the young woman, he handed over the folder to me. It's much harder than it looks, notes almost falling out. "I consider your father a good friend, but he never mentioned he had such a beautiful daughter. Come to think of it, he never mentioned any kid. What is your name?"
"Arbatta." she answered promptly, winking at him. She cleverly folded her right hand over her left and covered the ring with it. "It’s no surprise he never mentioned, but I am fully at your disposal, my lord."
I stared at the pages in my hands in disgust. If there's anything worse than Damien's choice of partners, it's when they throw themselves at him like this. At least the papers in my hands don't have the need to undress in the Heiress's presence. But they’re clearly referring us to the local commander. "I don't think we will need any more of your services." I closed the folder and got a good look at her face for the first time. Her cheeks are as red as her hair, whipped into a messy updo. Light eyes can't leave Damien for a single moment, and her prominent nose is hidden in the shadow of thin lips.
"At the moment," he added with a smile that suggested he would definitely use some other services. "I wouldn't want to say goodbye for good, we just met." this performance was enough for me. I went back to the hallway before I could do something stupid. The disgusting idea of where their conversation would lead is already burnt into my brain. If Damien looked his age, or at least acted accordingly -and not like a young boy- I wouldn't have to worry about it.
Damien caught up with me a few minutes later. He fixed his hair and took the folder back. "She's married."
"So what? Just having a little fun."
"No, you're being disgusting."
"Mmm… not everyone has their best friend's brother waiting in bed for him. But if nothing else, I'm still your favourite uncle." he put his arm around my shoulders and led me out of the building. "So now the commander?" I didn't even have time to look around. Suddenly we are in a completely different place, at the beginning of a muddy path that stretches up a wide hill.
"No way, Jim." gooey mud and polished shoes don't go together.
"There's no other way to get up there, only on foot. There's almost no magic there." he explained, I raised my eyebrows curiously. Magic or not, there's no place in the world we can't get to. Actually, not only in this world. "Fine, Stephan banned it." he clarified irritably and headed up. He clings to the grass on the sides of that awful path.
"Why?" I called to him from below.
"Because there's some shrine of theirs up there and we're supposed to respect their customs or something, I didn't listen too much to him." he raised his voice but did not stop. "Just start walking."
"And what is the guard commander doing at the shrine?" I asked when I caught up with him a few minutes later. Sticking to the grass works surprisingly well for me and my shoes, still mostly white. "Shouldn't he be in town?"
"The word shrine is kind of self explanatory, don't you think?" he tossed haughtily.
"Don’t be so sure Jim, I've been to a lot of places like that and I definitely didn't go there to meditate." I smirked. I assessed the hill and the speed at which we were climbing. It will take us forever. I should have ordered him to take us up and deal with Stephan later.
"You've never been much for it. You avoid just the very word faith. It's actually funny when you think about it, Child of Light." he added with a laugh.
"Hilarious," I sped up too. "Careful or you might need to rewrite that book of yours. I'm no more important than the other Heirs."
"Then that's not true at all."
"Why? Because I can line all three of you up with just a thought?"
"And you don't find it a bit strange?" he evaluated with a straight face, he certainly doesn't tell me everything. "It's part of our plan,"
"You just have to trust it." I interrupted him with a rehearsed answer. "I know, it's silly, Jim."
"It's not silly, princess." he grumbled and continued his way up. I have to scramble up behind him, and now in complete silence. There's no point in starting another conversation with him when he's scowling like that. He is terribly moody.
The way up is very slow. The mud is full of puddles and in no case is it safe to walk on. The grass has only managed to dry out on a few patches and it is slippery everywhere else. Damien is going faster and faster and I'm tired of trying to keep up with him. I climb behind him at my own pace. The nature around me isn't enough of a distraction, the slightly inclined slab that we're walking on, is in some places broken by a bush in an almost inappropriate way. The leafy balls look like trash that someone threw on a hill and just left it there. I hope the shrine is worth something.
"I hope I’m too fast for you." he pitched when I finally caught up to him, almost at the top of the hill.
"I thought we'd take our time. If we get this done on the first day, what about the other two?"
"I'll definitely find something more fun for us." his laughter sounds similar to my father’s, but it's not as perfect. I never figured out what it's missing. "This time you’ll do the talking." he motioned for me to follow him. Finally, the muddy road was replaced by a stone one. I have already lost all hope I could expect something like this.
We entered in silence. Although I'm not sure what the shrine is dedicated to, it has such a nice feel. If it weren't for the stone walls, it would resemble a greenhouse. The first giant green leaves peek out from the pots, accompanied by slightly smaller pink flowers still bigger than my head. I didn't think I would ever see Fittera again, and here are several in full bloom. "This could restore my faith." I whispered, I had to make sure it wasn't an illusion. The petals are just as soft as I remember.
"And here I thought the flowers disappeared in time, like everything else."
"As long as one of us remembers, it’s not really lost…" the path ahead leads us to a fountain in the middle, only the water is replaced by plants. It reminds me of a fountain in Dithune, full of flowers blooming all year long. Here, among the flowers, is a statuette of a stocky woman. If I've ever heard of her, I've successfully forgotten her name and everything else. "Let me guess, no Light here." Seems like people here adhere to worshipping many deities and assign each name and different miracle. Harvest, weather, fertility, love, death, magic certainly have their own god.
"I suppose," Damien turned to a quick footsteps approaching us. An old woman emerged from behind a tall flower and gasped when she saw us both. She stopped in front of us and fell to her knees. Well... "I suppose, your guess is wrong."
"Valea, de A lai." I walked over to her, reached out my hand. I don't want her kneeling in front of me. Her long lightly grey robe -probably white at some point- spilled around her on the floor. Our white uniforms are apparently enough of a clue as to who she has the honour with.
The woman raised her head cautiously, bright eyes resting on me for a few moments before focusing on Damien. I didn't hear his steps, I don't think he moved. Just like the woman, she stayed on the ground, despite my outstretched hands. Instead of getting up, she launched into her apologies in a harsh, almost hoarse voice.
I have no choice but to get to her. I hate when people kneel down in front of me and apologise for something they had nothing to do with. Of course, the woman couldn't be waiting for us, as we usually go unannounced. She looks at me with horror. What is being said about my family in these forgotten parts of the empire? Maybe she's afraid she'll lose her head at the first hint of our displeasure. She must have some reason to be so scared. But what could a priestess be guilty of?
"Ceatta mossi et ratt'u?" I interrupted her apologies. She doesn't want my help, maybe it will work the other way around.
"Ratu?" she stopped. Visibly confused, she’s looking for the right words. I nodded in agreement, I don't feel like repeating my question. Not that I don't like the old speech, but I don't like repeating myself. "Analea ratu…" she added in a slightly lower voice. Immediately after that she launched another avalanche of words.
I listened for a while and tried to put together what she was actually telling me - and that it's a lot - into coherent sentences. Only now did Damien move up to me. "There is no commander here. The last time someone from the guards stopped around was last week, but she doesn't know if it was a commander, because she had no way of telling. Only common people, farmers and artisans come here." I don't know why, but I translated it for him. He must understand her. I mean, it is his mother tongue, albeit slightly altered.
"If he’s not here, then where?" he flipped the file folder in his hand and started going through the papers.
I stood up, rummaging through the papers under Damien's hands. I took a picture of the man we're looking for. He doesn’t look like a commander, he is not muscular, doesn't seem fit and has a little time left to retire. The clean-shaven head lets the giant ears stand out, and his gaze is not as hard as one might expect from a commander. "I asked her about the guards, soldiers." I bent down to her again. A moment of our inattention led her to prayers. She’s really scared. I showed her the picture. "A catta is musso?"
She looked at the picture, her expression changing as she did so. She hesitated for just a moment before shaking her head.
"She's lying." Damien announced the obvious news. I almost turned to face him when I noticed her twitch. Not only does she lie, she understands us.
And I'm sure the man won't be far. He’s here somewhere. She has no idea he's one of the guards, so it didn't seem like a lie, but she knows he's here. "It won't be hard to find him. I mean, the shrine can't be that big. Wait with her." I know he will do exactly what I tell him to do. He always listens to me in these situations.
"No magic." he reminded me. I rolled my eyes and drew my sword. Just to be sure, I'm not going to kill the only witness we have.
I was right about the sanctuary not being big. Just keep going deeper into the room and inevitably I'll come to the doors on the sides. I automatically chose the ones on the right.
I almost slammed the door in front of me with a spell, I stopped at the last moment. I don't care about Damien's or Stephan's speech. I took the handle and opened the door, there was no one in the small room. Or at least it's supposed to look that way. I shifted my sword to my left hand, I'm pretty sure I won't need it. I know someone is waiting behind the open door. In addition to seeing the shadow, I can hear his breathing. And since he hasn't attacked yet, he probably only plans to defend himself.
I stepped inside, ready to react. I saw movement out of the corner of my eye, I bent at the waist and let someone's hand fly over me. I took the chance that presented to me, caught his hand in the air and twisted it behind the man's back. His face hit the wall, a pained scream was heard as he did so. I pressed the pommel of my sword to his back, even though the man gave up rather quickly. I would have expected him to fight back. "I don’t mean trouble." he mumbled with a rough accent.
Without answering, I led him out of the room back to Damien. He doesn’t seem like the escape type, but I didn't let go. Just to be sure.
I pushed him down to the ground, right next to his protector. She hadn't gotten up yet either, probably because Damien wouldn't let her. The perfect blade of his sword appeared very tellingly between him and the woman. "We aren’t here to cause trouble either. On the contrary, we came to solve yours." I returned the sword to my waist, waiting for Damien to do the same. The two in front of us aren’t going anywhere and he undermines my intentions. "In the name of the Light, we are here to seek redress and restore order. You have reported a very serious crime, I hope you have evidence to support your claims." he must know more than what is in that folder.
The man looked me straight in the eyes, fear mixed with rage in his eyes. His lips turned to a narrow, thin line. He nodded slowly, rolled up his sleeve and showed us his forearm, covered with a dirty bandage. He removed the cloth to reveal the runes carved deep into the skin.
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