In the library of Aldric Thorn, an old scribe and religious scholar was writing the sacred scriptures with a fine brush.
Word by word. He knew the text by heart. His hand did not tremble. The black ink slid across the parchment like a calm river.
Suddenly, the door opened.
The echo announced the impatient visitor. The stone slabs returned the sound of firm footsteps. The old man looked up. He looked at him.
"Elector," he said, setting the brush on the inkwell. "Why do you come like this? That is no way to present yourself before an old man."
Elector walked toward him. He made no bow.
"Did you not see the report?"
The old man took up the brush again. Dipped it in the inkwell.
"What report?"
"Eleven men vaporized. Out of nowhere. And within the capital's territory. Does that not concern you?"
The old man let out a dry laugh.
"The demon that was after the undead they executed? If there are no sightings, what more are we to do?"
Elector moved closer to the table. He placed his hands on the wood.
"It could be anywhere. Why won't you help me find it?"
The old man laughed cynically. He set down the brush. Raised his arms. Showed his physique: skin clinging to bone, trembling knees, hunched shoulders.
"Yes. Me. I'm going to go to the mountains to hunt a monster."
Elector clenched his jaw.
"At least do some research. Please."
"Young people, so worried about everything. If it appears again, call a cleric to face it."
"You know there aren't enough clerics for the entire territory."
The old man did not respond. His gaze drifted toward a shelf. He pointed with a bony finger.
"Biographical records. That is all I can help you with."
Elector turned. Went to the shelf. His fingers traced the spines of the books. He found the corresponding letter. Pulled out the volume. Opened it.
He searched for Lady Edyth.
Being a noble, it was easy to find. The pages were ordered by lineage. He read the last entry recorded.
"Wife of Lord Fradric. Five years ago, owner of the territory of Elasia and heir to Notrot in case of widowhood." His eyes scanned the lines. "She studied academic music, herbalism, and dance. It was believed she had a strange illness that caused discouragement and apathy. An evil eye."
He turned the page.
"They traveled to several kingdoms over the last three years to seek a cure and..."
He looked up.
"Has Lord Fradric been seen again?"
The old man had already resumed his writing. He did not lift his head.
"How would I know?"
Elector closed the book with a sharp snap. He left it on the table.
"He hasn't been reported in a long time. I will go visit his parents."
He left. His footsteps faded. The door closed.
The old man kept writing.
---
Elector prepared his team and his members for the journey.
A brigade. Twelve men. His sergeant. And a young cleric.
They set out on the journey.
At first it was simple. The usual ride. The horses' hooves struck the road in constant rhythm. The sun warmed their backs. The fields on either side stretched green and yellow.
But the men wanted to know about their mission. They whispered among themselves. They did not seem convinced.
The sergeant approached Elector. Rode alongside him. Lowered his voice.
"Sir, the men are worried."
Elector did not look at him.
"About their journey? Their pay? About what?"
"They say they are not prepared to face a creature like the report describes."
Elector smiled. Loosened the reins. Let the horse slow its pace.
"That report is incomplete. Exaggerated."
"Exaggerated?"
"We will not be facing anyone. And in any case, we have a cleric with us."
Everyone turned to look.
The cleric rode at the back of the column. His white cape stood out among the dark capes of the soldiers. He was no more than thirty. A smooth face. Clean hands. Newly graduated. New to the work.
The cleric noticed the stares. He straightened his back. Pressed his lips together.
The sergeant spoke again.
"Sir, the report has been confirmed by multiple sources. A usurper demon. With the power to disintegrate people."
Elector pulled the reins. The horse stopped. All stopped.
"Sergeant..."
His tone was more serious. There was no smile. No patience.
"If I say it is a minor threat, then it is."
The sergeant hesitated. Looked at the men. Looked at Elector.
"We will only go to talk," Elector continued. "Stop worrying."
The sergeant lowered his head.
"Yes, sir."