As I stepped inside the dining room, all eyes were on me. My battered and bruised appearance due to the previous scuffle with Gregori, had left me with a bloody nose and several cuts. However, that was not why everyone was staring. The various faces of anger, shock and incomprehension were written on all three of those present. Malkolm was dumbfounded by the events, while Kalom was impressed at how well I had handled myself. He had thought I would have taken a worse beating out there, he was also understandably a little uneasy that I had let Gregori live. Lais however, was brimming with silent rage. I decided to stand at the far corner, examining the reactions of each one of them. I said nothing for a while, before finally opening my mouth to speak. But as I did so, Lais rushed up to and with a curled fist, clocked me. Both Malkolm and Kalom were about to rush over to calm Lais, but it wasn't necessary. She retracted her hand, now partly red from the wounds I had already sustained.

  “Why?” Her voice was uneasy, It was difficult for me to hear the pain in it. “Why did you let him live?”

  I spat out some blood onto the floor and regained my composure from the assault. Upon doing so, I locked eyes with Lais, her gaze was fiery and intense in contrast to my own cold stare. I couldn’t blame her. She had been through hell and back that night.

  “After all he and his thugs did, after he almost killed Kalom, you let him go?” She began to tear up, streaks running down her face. “Tell me something, anything.”

  “I did what seemed right in the moment.”

  Lais looked as if she was about to take another swing at me, but after a moment her hand went back to her side. While her temper hadn’t subsided, it was at least under control. And it was a good thing too, that last hit hurt worse than Gregori’s had. At that moment I tried my best to think of a way out of the situation, like always. I understood her pain, after almost losing Kalom, her family; she was out for blood. But I knew all too well where that mindset leads you. I’ve lost my fair share of friends in combat and paid the price for seeking out retribution. I had an epiphany, in some sense. Normally I was against sharing my bloodied past, too difficult to talk about with other people; but maybe it would help her see my way of thinking. Was worth a shot.

  “Can I explain what I mean, Lais?” I asked.

  She paused for a moment, before nodding warily.

  “I saw something in Gregori that made me not need to kill him. I haven't been entirely forthcoming with my past, but I’ll try to make it … palatable I guess.”

  “Go on, I'm listening.”

  “Firstly, I saw a little of Kalom in him.”

  “You saw a part of Kalom in a murdering wretch like him?!”

  “Yep, but let me finish. When he interrogated me earlier, he asked me questions that made me realize that something was amiss. He wanted to know who I was, meaning Eli never told him.”

  “Ok?” Lais snapped.

  Kalom limped over with the help of his father, they appeared interested in the topic now, or perhaps Kalom just wanted to get closer to Lais. I paid them no mind while I spoke.

  “And after I won the fight just now, he told me the truth, I don't know if you heard it.”

  “I heard enough to know he did all this for his own ends, just to protect his sister.”

  “Right. He was willing to commit murder and kidnapping just to get Eli to release his sister. Do you know what that means?”

  “I'm not sure I'm following.” Lais’s anger was finally dying a little, albeit replaced with confusion.

  “What I'm getting at, and feel free to ask him yourself,” I pointed at Kalom, who now was immersed with full attention on the discussion. “He was only doing all the things he did to save someone he cared about. I have no doubt Kalom would do the same to protect you.”

  Lais turned to Kalom, she hadn't noticed him walking up behind her, as her full attention was on me.

  “Well Kalom, “ I asked, “what say you?”

  Kalom nodded, and turned to Lais, placing a hand on her shoulder.

  “As much as I hate to admit it, you’ve got a point. Though I'm not sure what his reasons exactly have to do with your own past.” Kalom said to me.

  “Us three have a common trait I guess. All three of us would be willing to do the unthinkable to save someone we cared about. Even if it means doing terrible things.” I replied.

  “What are you getting at, Nelson?” Kalom asked.

  I cracked a smile, “I used to know a guy named Parker. Real prick, part of a group called Atomwaffen. He and his terrorist buddies hid out in a bunker filled with nuclear weapons, down at Apache Junction. Don't worry about what nukes are, story for another day perhaps. Anyway my men and I were ordered to destroy the bunker with them all inside, so they couldn't deploy the nukes themselves and lay waste to their enemies. It was also my personal attempt to kill Parker once and for all, and to protect my neighbors and countrymen from annihilation at the same time. Killing two birds with one stone.”

  “What happened next?” The voice was Malkolms. He had stood beside Lais on the other side, opposite Kalom.

  My smile vanished upon remembering the event further. The painful memories burned my throat, and the pictures briefly flashed in and out of my mind.

  “We detonated the bombs after sealing them all inside. We got out of the area quickly to avoid getting caught in the blast. But Parker, he …” I paused for a minute. Unsure if I should continue.

  “What's wrong?” Kalom asked.

  “Parker … he radioed me and my men, begging us to stop the detonation. The fool for some reason refused to tell any of us before it was too late, that the bunker housed over a thousand other people. Men, women, children. The families of the insurgents.”

  “By the watchmaker…” Lais’ voice was quieter than before as she trailed off. Her face twisted into something resembling fear, or maybe disgust.

  “I was so blinded by my own goals, my own want to protect my guys and to get revenge on Parker; I unknowingly helped kill all those people.”

  The silence that fell refused to go away. Nobody said a thing, though they all stared at me. Kaloms expression was not what I expected. He looked like he understood the pain. But Lais clearly did not. Malkolm, similarly to Kalom, was uneasy but looked as if he held his own storied past.

  “I know you want to get revenge on Gregori, Lais.” I broke the quiet, it was time to finish this argument. “But vengeance only leads to people you don't intend to hurt, getting hurt anyway. Take it from me, I know better than most people; the cost of anger getting in the way of duty and survival. I don’t think you're wrong for wanting him to pay, but I just wanted you to think about the cost.”

  Lais said nothing, though her dumbstruck expression told me she was working through a lot of emotions. parsing out what I had just admitted to her, I had undoubtedly not only lost what trust I had with her, but now I was surely a monster in her eyes. But if it meant stopping her from getting herself or others killed over a grudge, it was probably for the best. Kalom was a good guy, and though he had taken a beating and nearly snuffed it, I was absolutely sure he didn't want his sister going after an assassin on her own. Malkolm would probably not be too keen on that idea either.

  “Kalom, how are you holding up?” I asked, “you took the brunt of it.”

  Kalom put a hand over his fresh bandage, making sure it still sat there undisturbed. “I’ll be fine, give it a few days and I'll have a new scar to impress women with. Gotta admit I'm tired though, lost a lot of blood.”

  “Alright, I’d wait a little while before heading to bed, just in case anything else happens.”

  I decided that I needed fresh air, so I started towards the front door. Lais grabbed me by the arm, pulling me close as I passed.

  “I don't know what to think anymore.” she admitted. “I don't know whether to trust you, to hate you …” The pause was long, dragging on even as Malkolm strolled by with Kalom in tow, heading down the hallway.

  “Lais,” I said. “I don't know you all that well, and you don't know me either. If I broke your trust in me, perhaps it’s for the best anyway.”

  “How can you even say that to someone?” She forced me to face her, once again our eyes met and the contrast between us was evident.

  “Because it’s just how I do things. There are plenty more stories of me doing terrible things, so I can’t exactly blame you for not wanting anything to do with me after tonight. Listen Lais, if you take anything away from this whole incident; it’s that you shouldn’t follow in my footsteps either purposefully or by accident. I’ll be gone by morning, I’ve overstayed my welcome.”

  Lais released me, and I continued my silent march to the door, walked out and sat on the ground under the arches. The moonlight still showed through the clouds, lighting up the area, letting me get a good view of the craters on its surface. The moon looked different than the one I knew, so alien to me. Instinctively I had begun rummaging around in my pockets for my smokes, only then remembering that I no longer had any. They didn’t come with me from home.

  “Fuck me I guess.” I leaned back, my head hitting one of the arches.

  “Mind if I sit here?” A familiar voice said.

  I turned to see Malkolm, standing next to one of the arch pillars expectantly.

  “It’s your house, Mr. Malkolm.”

  He sat down beside me and began rifling through his own pockets, producing an old wooden pipe.

  “Looks like I still have some left, care for a smoke Goldw- I mean, Nelson?”

  I smiled, and happily agreed to partake. As we took turns smoking the tobacco I started feeling something come over me. It was an uncommon emotion to me, foreign even.

  “Hey, Nelson?” I turned to Malkolm expecting that he wanted to pass me back the pipe, but he just pointed to his eye and said, “are you alright?”

  I wiped my cheek with my sleeve, and realized that tears had started to unknowingly pour down my face. So that was the feeling, but was it sadness or pain? I genuinely couldn't tell.

  “Yeah Malkolm, I’ll be fine. I guess I’m just sorry for all the trouble I have caused your family these past few days.”

  “Apology not accepted.”

  “I figured as much.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “What do you mean then?” I asked.

  “Sure, it has caused some issues no doubt, and Lais is worried about yo-”

  “Worried?” I began to grin a little as I spoke, “didn’t you see her, she hates me.”

  “I know my daughter Nelson, she won’t hate you for all this.”

  “Guess you missed the part where I told her I murdered people?”

  “You think you're the only one who has blood on their hands in this house?”

  I went silent, remembering what Kalom had told me about his own troubles. About his mistakes. Malkolm was right in a way, Kalom had also done things he wasn’t proud of but that was different. Kalom was Lais’ brother, her own family; meanwhile I was practically a stranger.

  If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  “Listen Nelson,” he continued, “in this world, many warriors have done similarly wicked things for many different reasons. Vengeance, prejudice, entertainment. But from what I understand, you at least had your heart in the right place when yo-”

  “That's not good enough!” I slammed my fist against the ground, the sting of rock breaking skin was agonizing. “I should have known better than to be that sloppy with reconnaissance. Had I waited a while longer, maybe those people would have been evacuated, they could have still been alive. But no, I had to let my vendetta against that rat bastard get in the way. I- I …”

  After a long pause, I decided that it was time to get some rest, and get ready to move on. Eli was my new target, and I needed sleep to travel. So I got up, turned to face the house and looked down at him still sitting there, staring with his pipe in hand.

  “I’m going to get some rest. Then in the morning, I’ll be gone. I’m not good at apologies if you noticed. But I’m serious, for everything I've brought onto you and your family, I’m sorry.”

  As I walked into the house, and down the hall to my room; I passed Kalom and Lais talking to one another in hushed whispers. I couldn't make out what they were saying, but it was an argument of some kind, though I at the time couldn't care less. My mind was racing, trying to figure out if I did the right thing after all that night, if I should even give a damn in the first place. I did know one thing though, that some sleep would do me good.

  —------------------------------------King Eli ‘The Gladius’--------------------------------------------------

  Many miles away, sat Eli’s castle in the capital city of the Imperium. Dark storm clouds enclosed the evening sky, like a blanket of soot. Rain began to patter against thatched and tiled roofs of the city below, as the empty streets began to harbor puddles on the paved lanes and alleys. The castle, being the tallest building in the city itself, was almost coal black in color. The bricks stacked almost as high as the clouds, ending in towers and battlements of impressive size. The wooden drawbridge raised to close it off from the outside world, protected by a moat of deep and swirling water. On each side of the gatehouse, stood massive banners bearing the familiar visage of a withered tree on a burgundy background. The keep, the beating heart of the whole colossal fortification, was covered in elegant and intricately designed stained glass panels, showing the religious motifs of the old faith of king Parker 'The Aryan', the father of king Eli ‘The Gladius'. But the most prominent feature by far, was the centrally placed insignia of the faith, hanging just above the castle entrance. The symbol of the swastika, in pure gold.

  The room was warmed, as the fireplace flames flickered illuminating the room. two bodies embraced under layers of blankets on an antique bed in the corner of the room, resting beside one another and enjoying the tender moments that passed in each other's company.

  “Eli,” said Edme, "You should not be afraid to lay your burdens upon me, my love. I am here for you.”

  Eli opened his eyes, and smiled as he caressed her cheek. “You needn't worry about my struggles, my sweet. You need only to rest and conserve your strength.”

  Edme nuzzled up to him, and further deepened the closeness they shared. Eli could not help but let his mind wander, he thought about what he wanted most of all in life. He saw himself walking across a throne room filled with loyal and stoic guards. His wife, his queen Edme, awaits him on the opposite end. She had children beside her, his children. But as he approached, the vision faded away. He knew that these were too unrealistic, deep in his heart he knew that neither was it his destiny to rule alongside his beloved nor would there be a happy ending for him. He was feared, yes, as his father and Karill taught him. They said many times that it's better to be feared than loved if only one can be achieved. He forgot which thinker from his fathers world was being quoted by them; but it didn't matter. He didn't want any future that did not involve Edme. All the money in the world would not equate to the brilliance of her eyes, no army could match her strength and perseverance in the face of adversity. And most of all, no hearth could warm his tainted heart and soul, quite like her love.

  “Eli?”

  Eli, snapped out of his thoughts, and focused solely on Edme, who was looking worried.

  “You seem troubled dear, are you alright?” her worry made Eli chuckle.

  “Nothing to worry about. Just thinking of our future once I find a cure for your ailment.”

  Edmes' expression turned a shade of weariness. “My love,” she began but was cut off.

  “Don’t … please.” He pleaded. “I will find the cure, I will not let you down.”

  “But what if you cannot?”

  “I will. I promised.”

  After that no more words were said, and the two drifted to sleep without another peep. The fireplace slowly died as the night went on, and soon the only light left was from the outside world; a faint glow of flames across the western horizon from the direction of the Britonan marshes.

  —--------------------------------------Nigel------------------------------------------

  Nigel slammed the tankard on the counter with a sigh of refreshment. He had been drinking for an hour on and off, trying to keep his mind away from the evenings troubles.

  “Ay, Jennifer” he yelled over the din of the tavern's many patrons. “Po’r me anoth’r brew, wouldya?”

  The Daegish woman was around his height, just a little over four foot. Her short ginger hair was quite complementary to Nigels long and shabby beard, and her cheerful demeanor the exact opposite to his gruff shell.

  “Ol’ Nigie,” her playful smile betrayed her stern tone. “I’s one to think’ya had yous fill of ‘shine tonight”

  “Fill?” he bellowed, “haha, on’y if ya says I’s cut off’ill stop.”

  “Then I’s do sayso.”

  Nigel yawned. After a night’s worth of drinking away his vouchers, he was just about ready to hit the hay anyway. But something was bugging him, he couldn’t remember what it was though. Something about Maxwell, he managed to recall, but that was it.

  He silently tipped his hat to Jennifer, dismounted the bar stool and headed, albeit clumsily, to the tavern door. Tomorrow was another day, and he needed the rest to be a productive worker. As he reached the door, he heard something. It was a whisper at first, but after a few moments it grew louder, it's then that he noticed the noise behind him had stopped altogether. Turning, he saw the entire tavern watching him and the door, all staring with a stricken sense of fear. He realized why, it was the ever growing ringing sound. It was the town's alarm bell.

  “Tall’ns, Theys’a’comin’!” A voice shouted from outside the tavern, and that's when everyone in the room clamored for the front door in panic.

  They nearly trampled old Nigel as he was pushed to the ground by the stampede of his kin. Dodging mud stained boots, toeless moccasins and bare feet themselves; luckily managing to get out of the doorway with only a slight kick to the jaw. As he looked around him the pandemonium was endemic. The whizz of arrows and the crackling of newly lit fires upon the wooden buildings frightened Nigel as one flaming arrow struck the wall beside him, causing him to jolt to his feet.

  “To arms! To arms’ya id’ots!” The same voice from the warning yelled. This was followed by Nigel seeing the speaker himself, preacher Maxwell.

  Nigel suddenly sobered enough to remember the night's events, and a moment of clarity dawned on him. He ran to meet the old man hoping he would tell him the situation. But as he did so, the sudden clamor of hooves bellowed down the street, and a pair of humans on horseback thundered through. They wielded swords, and for any Daeg they saw in their path, they slashed away. A woman, trying to run past, was sliced across the face, the scream echoing even as the horse hooves drew closer and drowned all other noise out. Maxwell hastily grabbed a long, burning stick from the ground, and waved it around violently. The first horse was spooked and reared, sending the human warrior tumbling to the ground. At once, Maxwell charged forth, avoiding the horses trampling hooves the best he could and plunged the still burning end of the stick in between the knight's armor, and into his neck, the spurt of blood cut off as the wound began to partially cauterize. The other horse rider closed the distance, and was ready to strike Maxwell as he passed, but a last minute arrow whizzed and caught the man in one of his eyes. As he fell from horse to ground, one of his legs caught and twisted in the right stirrup, and a sickening pair of cracking sounds came. One, the shaft of the arrow breaking in two, and the man's leg itself, bone sundered. The horses both fled further down the road, with one human knight screaming in agony as he was dragged to his eventual doom.

  Out from the shadows in a nearby alley, a Daeg in cloak appeared, and Nigel recognized him at once.

  “Barry?!” He yelled in shock.

  Barry ran over, and along with Nigel, helped preacher Maxwell to his feet. Barry grinned widely as Nigel examined the young man, trying to figure out what had happened.

  “Yous the one’wat shot that’n arrow?” He asked Barry.

  Barry nodded in approval. “Best shot’chya ever did sees, yeh?”

  “Bloody mar-vee-lus, Barry. Yous should’a been a scav or a huntah, not’a wood splitt’r”

  “No time,” Maxwell shouted. “No time’fur ya banter an’ conversin’ wes gots people tuh help”

  Both of them nodded silently, and Followed Maxwell as they all ran towards the church, the safest building in town. Despite their short stature, the Daeg ran as fast as they could in the direction of the church. It was quite easily visible throughout the town due to its tall steeple. However it was even more so tonight, as the volleys of flaming arrows had set it ablaze. Nigel could hear Maxwell cursing under his breath as he saw the burning tower of wood, and he couldn’t blame the old man for the reaction, Nigel himself was just as muffed about the whole ordeal. Humans attacking the town was not new, they had done it several times in his youth, but they were always bandits or wayward so called ‘heroes’ out to put the Daeg down. This was something different, these men were armored and had skill. They were absolutely soldiers of the Imperium, Eli’s folk to the east. As they approached the church doors, they found an unruly mob of Daeg trying to bust the doors down with a wooden barrel. Crying children mixed their voices with shouts of “heave-ho!” as the clang of cast metal rang against the wooden door. Some of the people were bandaged, others were not, yet still burned or cut visibly. It was chaos all around, as the fires across the town crackled and the distant shouts of fear, created a symphony of pain with a percussion of clashing blades and whirring arrows.

  “Oi,” yelled Maxwell as he strode up and pushed the barrel men away from the door. “Dis’ere is the house’a Mark, whatcha think yous doin’?!”

  “Preacha!” Yelled a woman.

  “Eve’yone, da preechas ‘ere to save us!” Said an elderly man.

  Maxwell had fumbled around his robes, looking desperately for something, before finally producing a large metal key. He ushered away the people crowding around the door, before finally sticking the key into the lock. A snapping noise, the sound of a lock tumbling, followed by the doors swinging open.

  Before Maxwell even had time to tell everyone to ‘head inside’, the crowd burst forth in a rush, hoping for salvation and scrambling for shelter. Maxwell was almost knocked down, though he luckily grabbed hold of the door handle to steady himself.

  “Ungrat’ful lot’a ya.” The old man sneered.

  He turned to Nigel and Barry, nodding in the direction of the inside, and with that the three all entered and shut the doors behind, locking them. The Daeg, frightened and hurt, huddled in the church's back end around the Altar. They wailed and begged Mark to send his Engeles to save them. Maxwell released a disheartened sigh upon seeing this, and turned to his companions.

  “Nigel, ya see’n why I chose’ya now?”

  Nigel eyed the poor souls, then Maxwell. Barry didn't understand the exchange, he hadn't been present during the meeting with Maxwell earlier.

  “This’nt the time fo’that preecher.” Nigel growled.

  Oh I’s beggin tuh diff’r, Nigel. Lookit they. None’a theys got the sense tuh know what’da do.”

  Nigel grimaced. He was still reeling from the abruptness of the whole affair and wasn’t too keen on Maxwell trying to push him, once again, to become the leader of the revolution. He didn't want to lead people, and he didn't think it was very appropriate for Maxwell, preacher or no, to be having a philosophical argument in the middle of a raid on their homes.

  “We’s gonna talk’bout it later, preecher. Not now’n wen peoples need helpin’”

  The crackling of fire was audible from the rafters of the church, the steeple was most likely close to collapsing due to the flames. The smell of smoke filled the sparsely lit refuge, mixing with the candle lights and sending dancing shadows across the walls near the altar.

  “Nigel?” Barry began. Nigel turned to look at the young Daeg as he spoke. “Whadda we do?”

  “Why yous askin’me? Ask Maxwell.” he replied.

  “Hes askin’ yous, Nigel.” Maxwell said, gritting his teeth slightly.

  Nigel paused, and thought. They would need weapons, and armor to repel the humans; but would it be enough? He had no idea how large this raid actually was, and had no numbers to go off of. He also had no clue how the people there would even fare in the fight to begin with. Women folk aren't the strongest warriors, and while some of the men had likely been involved in scavenging, a full on fight was not the same as waylaying coaches and wagons.

  “See, Nigel?” Maxwell broke his chain of thought.

  “Huh, see’n what?”

  “Yous a think’a, not jus’an id’ot with an’ empty’ole in yous head”

  "Maxwell, I’s swear by Mark, if’n you don’stop pesterin’-”

  He paused. His mind remembered something important, something that would help them all leave alive hopefully. Barry, concerned by Nigels sudden silence, grabbed at his coat sleeve.

  “Nigel, yous ok?”

  Nigel smiled, snapped his fingers and pointed at Maxwell. “Teh cat-e-combs!”

  Maxwell and Barry were puzzling at first, but after thinking about it, they understood. They could use the catacombs beneath the church to get everyone to safety. They were built ages ago to house the city's dead, and they led underground, to safety.

  “Dat’s brill’nt Nigel, quick-like now, gath’r up theys fools an’ foller me” Maxwell rushed to the back of the church on the lefthand side as Nigel and Barry sprung into action, herding the mass of survivors to the Catacombs entrance.

  Maxwell once more began to fumble with his key ring, looking for the catacomb doors, and found it none too soon. As he placed the key into the lock, a bang. Then another, and many more.

  “The tall’ns! The tall’ns!” A young man, around the age of Barry screamed in fright. “Theys bashin’ da door, preecher!”

  “I’s can hear theys goings-on, I don’ be needin’ yous to scream it in muh ears, Percie!” Maxwell shouted above the din of frightened little folk, bashing of doors and even the creaking of the church itself.

  The key turned, and the snap was all it took for the noisy and terrified stampede to begin down the spiraling stairs of the catacombs. Maxwell had twice now been nearly trampled by his own congregation and was visibly fumed.

  “When wes get out of’ere I’s be ready tuh flog the lot of yas,” he muttered.

  He turned to the doors of the church watching as bits of the wooden facade of safety began to fly, and chunks broke away. He had never seen the church as it was in the moment. Broken, engulfed in flames, the relics and the banners; everything that his people held dear, destroyed in one night. He had served Mark's people for decades, but never had his faith wavered. But in that split second as he watched his entire world fall to ruin, even as he and the others followed after the huddled masses of the poor and the tired into the darkness below; he wondered if there really was a god.

  —---------------------------------------------GREGORI----------------------------------------------

  Gregori had limped back to his men's hideout, the duel had taken its toll on him. His thoughts were racing, every possible bad outcome flooded his mind with images of whips, of chains, of his own screams. And that of his sisters. Eli would be furious no matter what he chose, he knew that. But what he would do may depend on his next actions. Eli was brutal, nearly every interaction Gregori had been in with the tyrant ended in violence or abuse. He had personally witnessed the man beat a nobleman to near death once for daring to question his fathers faith in Vrill. Though he himself had not followed in his fathers footsteps regarding the faith, Eli could not allow the besmirching of his legacy. And Gregori had never dared to raise any doubts to the king unless he deemed it absolutely necessary, and rarely did that go well for him.

  He reached the abandoned construction site, finding most of his men had recovered after the escape. He eyed them, each carrying his own bruises or blurriness from the event. I had not killed most of them, but certainly did a fair amount of violence nonetheless in order to incapacitate. One man was even struggling to breathe, apparently being nearly choked to death, but passing out before I had the chance, which probably saved his life. Gregori was conflicted by the night's events, on one hand; To him, I was a threat that needed to be reevaluated, and possibly hunted down that night rather than later. On the other hand, I had spared his life. Most people would not have given an opponent like himself a second chance, and most humans would gladly jump at the chance to kill a cith. But I hadn’t, and it bothered him.

  “Hey, boss.” One of the men, a shorter human with curly hair and a lazy eye, popped up from behind the supply wagon. “How was fightin’ that Goldwater dreg? Heard the commotion all the way down 'ere”

  Gregori sighed. “Shut up Pip, where's Millard?”

  The man looked dejected, “He's with Vrill now, in Uberreich.”

  “Damn. He was one of the better swordsmen too,” he said as he bit his lip. “Pip, how are the rest of the men here?”

  “Most of em are alive, jus’ barely in some cases, sir. That Goldwater fellow, he packs a real wallop, he does.”

  “Yes.” Gregori replied, rubbing his chest. “He does.”

  “You need any medical attention?” Pip eyed Gregori, looking over his visible attrition and wear.

  The previous battle had certainly taken a toll on the assassin's health, but it wasn't the pain of the brawl which consumed him, it was the feeling that I had left another kind of mark.

  “Gather the men, we need to have a chat. Now.”

  He stormed off in the direction of the holding cells, as he passed the rest of the remaining entourage, they followed him with their gaze. And then soon, they themselves followed, into the dark and damp cellar. He was going to make a decision, he needed to. Not only for his own sake and survival, but for his last living connection to his homeland and his kin. His sister came before himself, and what he was going to do next; would be the first steps towards his destiny … and her freedom.