The Ruined Wanderer: The Riddle of the Key

By Elliott Teron

Theo Isaac and Clyde Moors always wanted a life of adventure, but they couldn't imagine what they would face on their first job as mercenaries. When their lot gets thrown with Selene Abradas, an Imperial Magus who conjures ice, their lives are uprooted as they are pursued by dark forces. Plagued by strange dreams and his family kidnapped, Theo wonders if his path wasn't decided for him...
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Elliott Teron
• Release date: Dec 17, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393429319

Elliott Teron

Elliott W. Teron always had a fascination with fantasy, storytelling, and of course, video games. Growing up, Elliott struggled with his Aspergers Syndrome, but would also demonstrate talent for writing. As he delved into the world of gaming, he met the people who would become his closest friends, and found the inspiration to get into fictional storytelling. At the time of writing, he lives in London, Ontario with his cat, Krueger.

Book preview

The Ruined Wanderer

The Riddle of the Key

By Elliott W. Teron

Who prays to a heaven,

That offers only to give offense?

The wise have a saying:

There is no curse more destructive,

Than an interesting life.

-Umr At-Tawil

Copyright © 2020 Elliott W. Teron All rights reserved

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

Cover design by Mahmoud Sewilam

Introduction

Welcome, reader, to the Riddle of the Key. As this might be your first foray into this narrative, as is likely the case for many reading this, it is important to understand that the Riddle of the Key is a multi-strand narrative. This means that the other books in the Riddle's narrative are neither prequels nor sequels to this story, but are other stories occurring upon the same timeline. 

Characters in this story who appear as side characters could, quite possibly, be the protagonists of other stories in the Riddle, perhaps drawn into this story as a consequence of their actions.

The Ruined Wanderer serves to be significant part of the narrative, and shows where the stories begin to tie together. It begins before and ends after the events in The Lost Princess.

This is a story prone to switches in points of view. Page dividers like the one shown below should be assumed to be an indicator for a change in point of view.

✽✽✽

CONTENT WARNING:

Sexual Assault, Allusions to Rape, Parental Abuse

Preface

The narrative behind Riddle of the Key had grown in my mind for decades, and I sought ways to tell the story. The original goal was to build it as a role-playing video game, as I believe the audience is more in-tune with the story if they're taking an active role in its progression. I wholly enjoy the use of a game's mechanics for storytelling, and that's an aspect I would have sought to exploit.

In the end, I chose to write my story as a series of novels. While my original plan had fallen through for a number of reasons, I wouldn't say I've given up on that particular dream.

Jasconius1

Prologue

Chapter 1

The First Job

Chapter 2

An Unsavoury lot

Chapter 3

Even best laid plans…

Chapter 4

Into the Woods

Chapter 5

Flask’s true nature

Chapter 6

Welcome to Redshire

Chapter 7

An awkward homecoming

Chapter 8

The Lurking Shadow

Chapter 9

That Fateful Morning

Chapter 10

The Aftermath

Chapter 11

Home no Longer

Chapter 12

A City of Brass

Chapter 13

Night in the Empire

Chapter 14

Persons of Interest

Chapter 15

Duality of Fate

Chapter 16

The War of the Bounty Hunters

Chapter 17

In the Maw of Anguish

Chapter 18

New Bonds Forged

Chapter 19

Theocracy

Chapter 20

Enter the Paladin

Chapter 21

The Hand of Aurelius

Chapter 22

The Witch of Abradas Estate

Chapter 23

The Taste of Revenge

Chapter 24

Truth

Chapter 25

An Ashen Bargain

Chapter 26

Reconciliation

Chapter 27

A City from the Past

Chapter 28

A Hesitant Retreat

Chapter 29

Hunter of Arlysians

Chapter 30

The Search for Selene

Chapter 31

The Paladin of Blesoon

Chapter 32

Into the Tunnels

Chapter 33

The Search for Theo

Chapter 34

A Reunion Overdue

Chapter 35

A Call for Aid

Chapter 36

An Evening of Promise

Chapter 37

A Motley Alliance

Chapter 38

The Battle of Leanan Mines

Chapter 39

An Ominous Victory

Chapter 40

The Ruined Wanderer

Chapter 41

The Way Forward

Epilogue

Prologue

The mercenary's investigation had taken him to such fascinating places, but here was the last he could have guessed. The gray sky made it impossible to guess what time of day it was as a light snow fell. This man had exhausted his leads pursuing rumours of an ancient death-cult's resurfacing. Now, he stood before the entrance to a Sky-Tomb in the mountains of the Yurukhan Steppe, enthralled by both the mason work and the idea of being surrounded by ancient steppe-warriors in their rest. Truly these were the kings among men he thought as he swallowed his awe, drew his sword, and hurried into the tomb.

With a snowy wind at his back and a dark tomb of gray stone at his front, the mercenary was confident that this was the place he was looking for; he certainly hoped he was right, because time was running short. The mercenary was looking for someone, and she had done quite a job of making herself scarce. He wouldn't have minded that in another time, for she was rightly feared, but now he needed help. Help only she would be willing to give...Provided the mercenary could strike a deal with her.

The mercenary cringed, his thoughts interrupted by the appearance of two men walking the stone hall towards him. He quickly hid behind a statue he assumed was some kind of gargoyle, a lion-thing with bulging eyes and tusks. The mercenary peeked around the statue to get a better look at the interlopers. The garb they wore confirmed his suspicions; The Cult of Arlys was here. Hoping to avoid a fight, the mercenary made his presence known; he sheathed his weapon and stepped out before the two cultists with his hands up. The cultists spotted him at an instant, and both drew their daggers, but seemed content to stare down the mercenary.

What’s this?! How did they find us? One cultist demanded.

I'll tell you one thing: it wasn't easy. the mercenary replied, Heard your leader 'helps' people. I'm looking to score some of that help.

The cultists looked at each other, and the other cultist took a step forward and pointed his dagger at the mercenary.

Your reasons for being here don't matter; we'll send your soul to Arlys! He shouted.

Try me.

The two cultists charged with their daggers at the ready, and the mercenary cracked his knuckles as he noted the improper posture his foes had assumed. The first cultist lunged, only for a backhanded fist to crash across his face, sending him spinning to the floor. The second cultist raised his dagger, and the mercenary seized him by the wrist and pried the dagger out of his hand. The cultist scrambled back as the mercenary pointed his own weapon at him.

The mercenary grinned, waving the dagger in his hand, There was an attempt, I guess. Now, take me to your-

The mercenary felt a sharp pain at the back of his neck that made him gasp. He slowly turned around to find a third, cowled cultist with two blades in his hand.

How the hell did you... The mercenary stammered.

What you've heard is true, heathen. Dread Nemesine offers aid to all who are willing to bargain for it. The third cultist gestured to his brethren to stand down.

I am called Baras, blessed of Arlys and right hand of Nemesine. The third cultist introduced, Her gifts allow me to tread without a sound and meld with the shadows. Hand your sword to my comrades, and you might revel in such powers yourself.

Baras 'The Cribhunter' Blackshade. Famed assassin, I've seen you around in some of my odd jobs. The mercenary uttered.

A dark laugh rolled from beneath Baras' hood, You should know better than to reveal the identities of your peers, Blackguard of Redshire. Cribhunter is apt, I must say... Baras gestured his brethren, and the two cultists sheathed their daggers and headed deeper into the tomb.

You've humoured me. Keep your sword, follow my comrades. Make any sudden moves, and it's your head. Baras menaced as he spurred the Blackguard forward with a sharp jab.

✽✽✽

The Blackguard felt the weight of the mountain upon him as he proceeded through the dimly-lit tomb, flecks of snow blown into the tunnels behind him and his hosts. All he could hear was the low rumble of the wind passing through the corridors and the echoed steps of him and the two cultists. The Blackguard began to wonder what manner of people he had fallen in with.

Isn't this place sacred ground for the men of the steppe? If these cultists were spotted here, they would surely be-

Blackguard's thought was interrupted by sudden screaming, a man's screaming. What the Blackguard heard made gave him a chill; the man's screams had been curses to his assailants in the Yurukhan tongue.

Nice place you've got, Cribhunter. The Blackguard broke the silence, The steppes were the last place I'd imagine finding you lot.

Indeed, you wouldn't have found us here if She hadn't willed it. Baras replied.

You say that like you knew I was coming. The Blackguard reckoned.

Arlys pulls at the threads of man as a spider upon her web. I imagine your informant was influenced by Her somehow. Baras explained, You must truly be desperate.

The Blackguard shrugged, You could say that, but I don't expect a guy called 'Cribhunter' to understand my reasons.

Nor do I care to from a human called 'Blackguard.' Baras retorted.

The four men came to a closed stone door, the design chiselled upon the door being Yurukhan in origin. Like the rest of this Sky-Tomb, it had been repurposed for something profane, rather than sacred. The two cultists made way for Blackguard and Baras, and the latter stepped before the door, making an inviting gesture.

Dread Nemesine awaits beyond this door. I assure you that all that occurs within is between yourself and her alone. said Baras.

Not coming with me, Cribhunter? I could use the company. The Blackguard joked.

We are peers, not friends. Step inside. Baras insisted.

Blackguard briefly examined the door before putting his hands on the door and pushing it. The door was steadfast, even for an accomplished warrior like the Blackguard, and the door gave way for him after a brief helping of applied effort. An exotic perfume wafted through the opened doorway, making Blackguard almost swoon as he stepped into the chamber beyond.

Strong stuff... he thought as he took in the dark room, oblivious to the door being closed behind him.

The pitch darkness in the chamber was broken somewhat by the white candlelight, though such did precious little to provide illumination. The gray stone of the walls was mostly absent, having deep violet linens draped over them to cover the Yurukhan imagery they might have had. The chamber's centerpiece was a massive, twisting sigil on the floor, carved into the stone and lit with its own collection of candles: The Mark of Arlys. Scattered about the floor were more linens of the self-same colour, macabre ritual instruments, and other fineries...all stained from recent use. Strangely, there were cushions scattered about, and Blackguard could swear he saw a bed in one particularly dark corner. All of this served to magnify the weight that Blackguard felt in this tomb, for now he felt that he had stepped into something else entirely; something that seemed to exist only to insult the memory of those who had been buried here.

The thing that set Blackguard on edge almost immediately was the horned figure sitting on her knees upon the sigil. She was draped in dark robes which made her appear as a black silhouette among the white candlelight; a black silhouette with eyes that glowed as baleful purple embers as she slowly turned to face the Blackguard. On her finger, there was a ring that seemed to glow a faint blue. She rose to her feet, and the candlelight betrayed how little Dread Nemesine had attempted to conceal her lithe form beneath her robes. The Blackguard trembled as he fought his instincts...though he wondered if those instincts were fear before this eerily beautiful creature. He figured he ought to reach for his sword...for posterity, of course.

Nemesine's eyes narrowed, "And what has wandered into my lair this time? Another foolish hero...with a tempest in his chest?" she mused as her lips curled into a smirk. The Blackguard lowered his hand and tried to steady himself.

Charmed, Dread Nemesine, Blackguard greeted, I hear you offer boons to people willing to pay. I've sought you out for that reason.

Nemesine crossed her arms, "Oh, is that all? Perhaps you've heard right. But, how much are you willing to give?"

Blackguard shook his head, I won't beg. I know the price and I've already accepted it.

"Your soul, just like that? Nemesine laughed, It makes me wonder if you even have one to give! Very well, make your case, and we might make an...arrangement."

The Blackguard cleared his throat and told his story to Nemesine. He was a mercenary of no small prestige, but there was another truth that overshadowed that entirely: the Blackguard was a father. It was during one of his jobs that he rescued the woman he would fall in love with. One thing happened after another, and the two of them had sought to start a new life together...With their newborn child. The future was looking to be as bright and happy as it was peaceful, but such was not to be, for money became a constant spectre. The Blackguard made a difficult decision: he took up his sword once more, and opted to leave his wife's side until he could earn the money to support his family for decades, that they might live together happily and without worry. The problems quickly arose for the Blackguard, for while he was a capable fighter, the jobs just weren't paying enough. The Blackguard needed to aim higher, and in order to do that on his own...

I need power. I'm only worth as much as one man, when I need to be worth several. The Blackguard concluded.

Nemesine seemed intrigued. As she listened, she paced about the room. As her robe passed over the candles on the floor, their light recoiled and went out, as if the flames would rather snuff themselves out than touch any part of Nemesine.

"So, you're willing to give up your very soul to become the greatest mercenary who ever lived, just so the time you have left can be spent with your lovely wife and son?" Nemesine wondered.

The Blackguard's blood went cold, How did you know it was a boy..?

"Does it matter? Now, answer me." Nemesine insisted.

...Yes. I don't care what torment awaits me at the end; it'll be worth it if I can spend my life with my family. Blackguard vowed.

"Ohh, I like you. You're like some kind of dark knight!"

Nemesine spun to face Blackguard, and ran a hand down the opening of her robe to adjust it, Very well, my little dark knight, I will grant the boon you seek.

She brought the ring on her finger to her lips, and breathed deeply. The Blackguard cringed as he saw ghostly forms be drawn out from the ring and into Nemesine's mouth, and immediately recognized the ethereal screams to be human souls. The black tattoos that covered Nemesine's body glowed with a blue light before her essence corrupted the power she drew in, turning it to the same baleful purple as her eyes. Her hunger sated, Nemesine strode to the center of the sigil and raised her hands high.

The Blackguard felt a tug within himself, and he averted his eyes before the room exploded with dark power. The chamber was as a hurricane, with the candles and their flames stubbornly holding on while the linens along the walls whipped about in frenzy. The wind slowed, and when the Blackguard lowered his guard, Nemesine stood with a helmet in her arms. She slowly approached the Blackguard, and offered the helmet to him.

The Helm of Hepheston. Wear it, and you will have the Blackfire. Nemesine assured, Your skill at arms combined with such power will make you a demigod of battle.

The Blackguard grinned as he reached for the Helm, only for Nemesine to snatch it away.

"Not so fast, my little dark knight! It's time you paid the price. Nemesine stated, Open your tunic, that I might brand you."

The Blackguard didn't hesitate. He undid his leather armour and his clothing beneath it until his chest was exposed. Nemesine bit her lip before she placed her hand on Blackguard's chest. Blackguard shuddered at her chill touch before he was wracked with dark power that burned his very soul. The Blackguard grunted and grit his teeth, and then brought up a gloved hand and bit hard into the leather instead. When Nemesine was finished, she withdrew her hand, revealing the Mark of Arlys branded on Blackguard's chest.

"You are marked, dark knight. When your flesh fails, your soul belongs to us." Nemesine assured.

Alright... the Blackguard panted, and he reached for his prize, ...The Helm, then, as we agreed.

Afraid not, dark knight; There is one more thing I would have.

What?! But we agreed to-

"We agreed on no price, you assumed it would be your soul alone and went right along with it! Nemesine argued, No, no...I want one more thing from you before you and the Helm are free to go:"

Your faith.

The Blackguard took a step back, What...What do you mean?

Nemesine ran a finger down her chest, "You know exactly what I mean, you lustful brute. Lay with me. Betray her. When you win your life with your family, I want the memory that you broke your faith with your wife to haunt you until you're grey!"

The Blackguard shook his head and reached for his sword, No! This isn't what I wanted!

"Oh, please. You knew what you wanted as soon as you laid eyes on me. Admit it: the tempest in your chest isn't fear." Nemesine taunted.

The Blackguard gripped his sword's hilt, and then bowed his head in shame. Nemesine was right: the Blackguard meant well, but he was a flawed man. His sword arm reached down and undid the straps on the sheath. He held his sheathed sword in front of him, and dropped the weapon.

His sword clattered to the floor. The Blackguard offered no more resistance as he gave himself to Dread Nemesine's whims.

Chapter 1

The First Job

WANTED: Warriors to aid the Brass Imperial Army against the Arlysian threat. Food and lodging provided. Inquire within the Imperial Army encampment situated along the main road East of the Brass City towards Blessoon.

Payment in advance-

THUD!

The reader fell on his back, clotheslined in the face by an errant tree branch while he was reading the poster in his hands as he walked along a trail in the woods. He grunted as he rubbed his aching forehead. Another young man peered down at his wayward companion with a grimace on his face.

The man who was still on his feet wore a green cloak over a black top that covered his chest and biceps and little else; revealing his built midriff despite his scrawny stature. He wore brown leather gloves and boots, and his black trousers were festooned with pouches and tools fit for a hunter. The man had short black hair, and wore a grey cloth over his blinded left eye. His good eye was dark in colour. Across his back, a repeating crossbow was slung. The weapon's design gave the look of two crossbows slapped together, for it had two sets of limbs for its two strings, and could accommodate magazines of bolts. As if a crossbow wasn't deadly enough, here was one that could be rapidly reset and loaded.

Graceful as always, Theo. he joked before offering a hand to his companion.

Always, Clyde... Theo replied as he took his friend's hand and picked himself up.

Theo was taller than Clyde, and both were just over twenty summers in age. Theo was covered in dark leather armour, and wore a dull blue cloak. He wore a headband of the same colour over his forehead, beneath his brown hair and over his green eyes. He wore a braid in his hair, which hung down the side of his head, a symbol of unity in his hometown of Redshire. It was tradition to cut off the braid and offer to someone of significance; be it friend or lover. Across Theo's back was a long spear with a bladed head.

Theo Isaac and Clyde Moors were two hunters from a forest town called Redshire. While they were a competent team in their field, with Theo the better fighter and Clyde the better tracker, wanderlust would get the better of both. Thus, they could not pass up the opportunity when the Brass Empire's call for aid reached their ears.

As the poster Theo was reading had detailed, a contingent of the Brass Imperial Army was on the march to eliminate a concentration of the strange and gruesome creatures called 'Arlysians.' The people of Redshire have had encounters with the fiends before, but they were few and far between, and nothing that couldn't be dealt with. The city-state of Blesoon was closer to Redshire than the Brass City, which (rightly) alarmed the people of Redshire when they heard just where this concentration was. The people of Redshire, not ones to involve themselves with the Empire, chose to take a 'wait and see' approach. Of course, Theo and Clyde wouldn't share the sentiment.

I can already hear the chatter from the encampment. Clyde said, Can't be much farther.

Theo dusted himself off and retrieved the poster. He looked it over once again.

Says here we need to see the paymaster when we get there. We're looking for a tent with a crimson flag. Theo said as he stowed the poster into his pocket, Sounds easy enough!

Clyde nodded, We'll see.

The two continued on through the forest, a din of commotion echoed among the trees long before the Imperial camp was in sight. Temporary walls had been erected around the camp, with no clear entrances to be seen. As Theo and Clyde wondered where they could enter the camp, the latter spotted an Imperial soldier patrolling outside the wall. His uniform was grey, and his helmet and flak jacket were made of a dark yellow metal. In his hands was a rifle of similar colour.

That guy there, let's ask him. Clyde suggested.

The soldier snapped to attention after Theo gave a loud whistle. The soldier was wary at first at the two men emerging from the forest, but relaxed when Theo and Clyde explained their business at the camp. The soldier nodded and beckoned the two to follow him. As they went, noises from behind the walls could be heard, and the walls shifted slightly.

You two came just in time, the soldier said as he led Theo and Clyde into the camp, We're just starting to pack up and move out. You can still get on the payroll, if you hurry.

The soldier pointed to a tent with a crimson flag; the paymaster's tent.

Thanks! Theo said gratefully.

The camp was bustling with activity, with Theo and Clyde almost bumping into more than one soldier as the two made for the paymaster's tent.

This is exciting! Theo cajoled, You think we'll see a mech, Clyde?

I think we would have heard one already. Clyde stated, They're noisy.

What about a magus? Theo wondered, Remember when mom told us about them? Seeing one in action would be amazing!

Clyde shrugged, A magus? Maybe.

Theo and Clyde arrived at the paymaster's tent to find a gaunt man at a desk hurriedly scribbling on papers as his workplace was being packed away around him. He rubbed his forehead and huffed a sigh before he noticed the two men in front of him. He froze, his disappointment writ across his face as the idea of even more paperwork being piled onto him made itself apparent.

Theo waved, Ah, Hi! We're-

Late. the paymaster interjected. He produced two sheets of paper and slid them along with an ink and quill toward Theo and Clyde. He then dropped two small sacks of coin onto the desk.

Hurry up and fill those out. The paymaster ordered.

Theo took his sheet and signed his name, and then reached for Clyde's sheet. Before Theo could write, the paymaster's hand clapped down on Clyde's sheet.

What are you doing? the paymaster questioned, That's for him to sign!

I can't write. Clyde stated, Theo can sign for me.

...Sure, whatever. The paymaster shrugged and let go of Clyde's sheet. Theo signed Clyde's name, and the paymaster retrieved his sheets and pushed the sacks of coin to the two.

Your advance pay. Now, go and play nice with that unit over there. The paymaster ordered as he pointed to a group of soldiers who seemed more interested in socializing than packing…Mostly because they had already finished packing. The most decorated of these soldiers was a haggard man with a toothy grin beneath his shaggy beard. Taking their coin, Theo and Clyde went to get acquainted.

Chapter 2

An Unsavoury lot

The haggard man noticed Theo and Clyde almost immediately as they approached, and he waved the two over.

More mercs! The man guffawed, I'd ask yas to make yerselves at 'ome, but we's on a tight schedule, see. 'Name's Ridley, but me boys call me 'Flask!'

Why would they call you- Clyde was about to ask when he saw Flask produce...well...A flask from his jacket.

Never mind.

Oh, you must be an alchemist! Theo reckoned, to Clyde's disapproval.

...After a fashion, I 'spose. Flask muttered as he took a swig, Now then, you lot ever face an Arlysian before?

Clyde replied, No, but we've seen them.

They's right nasty... Flask grumbled, "But wit' me to leadin' you lot, you'll be fine! Jus' do what I says and you'll stays alive. Probably.

Right then, jus' relax wit' us till I tells you to form up! Flask ordered.

Theo and Clyde looked at their new compatriots, and the latter paid them little heed besides the occasional nod.

They must be used to working with mercenaries. Clyde reckoned.

You've got that right. One of the soldiers replied as he approached Theo and Clyde. He smiled and gave a sharp nod. He wore a uniform like his peers, and some of his blonde hair was visible on his brow beneath his helmet.

Anyone serving under Commander Arren O'Sullivan has to be; he almost always leads a mixed force of Imperial and mercenary troops. The soldier explained, He has good relations with the local companies, and treats mercs like yourselves well.

There's lucky! Theo reckoned, Who are you?

The soldier introduced himself, Private Phillipe Renou, at your service. Are you two from around these parts?

We're from a town a day's trek from here. Clyde stated.

Interesting! Phillipe said, Is it an Imperial border town? I'm not well-versed in the surrounding landscape.

No. Clyde flatly replied, I don't think I appreciate these questions.

Oh...That's fair. Let's change the subject then. Phillipe suggested.

Why aren't there any mechs here, Phillipe? Theo asked.

Arren insists on not fielding them, and nobody's really sure why. Could be the noise or the expense in maintaining them. I think he just hates them! Phillipe replied.

Theo continued, What about magi? We've heard stories of how nasty they can be!

Nasty as in 'deadly,' or in their personality? Phillipe asked with a wry smile. He beckoned Theo closer and turned him toward the center of the camp. Before Theo wondered what he was supposed to look at, Phillipe pointed out an intense man with red hair tied into a thin ponytail with a pair of hybrid weapons at his waist. He wore a decorated uniform, black with a dark yellow trim that marked him out as the leader of the Imperial forces here. This man was speaking to a peculiar-looking woman in stately clothes of roughly the same colour and a staff wrought from dark yellow metal across her back. Her appearance was striking: her skin was white like alabaster, with the only colour being in the tips of her fingers, a slight red as if frostbitten. Her hair, tied into a bun, was a silvery colour. Even from this distance, Theo could see the colour in her cerulean eyes behind her glasses, and the purple shade her lips had taken.

She looks like she's spent more than one winter's night outside...Why does she look like that? Clyde questioned.

That there's Selene Abradas, the Witch of Abradas Estate. She's a magus, and her power over ice magic is why she looks like that. Phillipe explained.

Like a frozen corpse? Clyde muttered.

I don't know... Theo mumbled, ...She's kind of pretty!

Phillipe laughed, Don't get your hopes up, she's as cold as her magic gets.

You gits got the mercs eyeballin' the Witch, too?! Flask thundered behind the three to their surprise. He guffawed as they turned to face him and he took another swig, Well, get used to it! Word is she's being assigned to our unit. You'll have plenty opportunity to stare at her-

Stare at my what, Flask? A woman's voice demanded. Flask froze, and the other three turned again to find Selene with her arms crossed and a hand lowering her glasses with a glare of contempt.

Er, nothin'! Flask stammered.

Selene pushed her glasses up and eyed Theo and Clyde with disdain.

And who are these two? A cyclops and some vagabond dullard looking to make easy coin? Selene accused.

Theo replied, Easy? We'll work hard for that money. You'll see!

Whatever. Selene rolled her eyes, Flask, we're forming up. I'm to join you after Arren orders us to move out.

Flask stuttered, Ah...oh! Right then, boys, let's go!

✽✽✽

Theo, Clyde, and Phillipe joined their peers in their assembly. It seemed Arren had ordered his men to form ranks in their separate units, that Arren might deliver a speech before they moved out. Most units had enough men to form three ranks of six men, but Flask's unit barely managed two. Clyde suspected this was why Flask's unit was placed on a far flank. Theo saw groups of men in dark clothing move ahead and into the woods surrounding the camp; no doubt more mercenaries filling a different role. Phillipe elbowed Theo, smiling.

See? She's cold as they come. Phillipe affirmed.

Theo shrugged, I'm not bothered by it. There must be some pressure to being a magus!

Of course you aren't bothered by it. You're still blushing. Clyde joked.

Theo couldn't hide the fact that being on the receiving end of Selene's daggerspeak only served to make him feel a little warm under the cloak.

Uh...Am not, cyclops! Theo denied.

Clyde chuckled, Are too, dullard!

Oi! Quiet down over there! Flask ordered. Of the three of them, Phillipe had the hardest time stifling his laughter at the two friends' banter. The noise of the contingent began to fade, and soon the whole camp was eerily quiet, with the only noise being the wind through the trees and the occasional cough from one of the soldiers.

✽✽✽

Commander Arren O'Sullivan, flanked by Selene and a pale man wearing black leather armour and a smug grin on his goggled face, stepped before the army that he had assembled. Arren addressed the men with a salute, and wasted little time to begin his speech.

"Men of the Empire, today we march to put down a gathering of the Arlysians, the beasts who exist only to kill us and bring suffering to all! It is no secret that I believe the Empire too lax in its dealings with these creatures; and make no mistake, it is indeed my belief that the Arlysians are an embodiment of evil that must be fought with extreme prejudice and raw firepower! There is no negotiating with these fiends!

"Men of the Empire, I know I can place my full confidence in you, for you have not only proven your loyalty to the emperor, but to me as well! I am heartened to be in the presence of warriors like yourselves, and I can think of no better to face whatever threat the empire is faced with! To me, rank has no place when battle is joined, and I would gladly lay down my life if it meant I could stand beside you in the end!

Mercenaries and soldiers of fortune! Know that whatever your motives might be, you are counted as one of us, and that you have my deepest gratitude for offering your services! Indeed, we would not have known about the Arlysians in this area if it were not for your peers! To give credit where it is due, it is thanks to the efforts of the man who stands beside me, Jarok the Black Crow, and his cabal of shadow magi!

Arren drew one of the hybrid weapons on his waist; it appeared to be a shaft with a handle, much like a tonfa, but something was off about its design...

What kind of weapon is that? Theo whispered to Phillipe.

Arren has two of those, the 'Hands of Flame.' Part club to beat down the enemies of the Empire, and part...Well, just watch.