The baron walked quickly through several castle corridors.
The half-breeds followed close behind him.
Haalen had known Thor for a long time and had noticed certain little things in his behavior that indicated he was seriously worried: the nervous fingers of his left hand clenching on the handle of his bastard, his slightly narrowed eyes, and the look itself that looked for danger around every corner or curtain.
The half-breed understood where the baron was leading him: over the years he had learned the way to his business office very well.
The castle corridors were unusually empty - the few servants already knew about the death of their own offspring and, aware of the knight's harsh disposition, tried not to show themselves to their master.
Reaching the massive iron-bound door to his office, Tur irritably kicked it open.
Turning around, he commanded the half-breeds:
"You two are guards. And you'll be following me around, always watching my back. Haalen, come in..."
As the other two half-breeds stood on either side of the door, Haalen hurried into the room after his master.
The study was lit by four magical lamps—two each on the walls to the left and right. Their light left virtually no chance for shadows. Haalen knew the Baron had seen such things in the war with Necrotix that he felt protected only by light. The half-breed never asked the reason, but he had heard a few tales from other veterans of that war about shadows suddenly coming to life, tearing their hosts to pieces in an instant and then vanishing immediately afterward, and about nighttime attacks by terrifying banshees.
In the wall opposite the entrance were tall, narrow, barred windows. Through them, a portion of the parade ground could be seen, illuminated by the pale light of magical lamps. Heavy velvet curtains covered more than half of the windows.
A pair of narrow bookcases, filled with books, stood on either side of the door.
A large, beautifully carved mahogany desk was piled high with papers. As far as Haalen could tell, they were reports and documents awaiting signature. There was also a small lamp on the desk, currently turned off.
A large, shabby leather chair with a very high back stood half-turned behind the table. The baron walked over to it and, sighing heavily, sat down.
"Oh, Light-Bright Gods, what a day..." He gritted his teeth and stubbornly shook his head. Glancing at Haalen, she said, "So, listen... About half an hour ago, a case of multiple teleportations was detected in the vicinity of Istra. I was about to raise the alarm, and our Archmages were getting very nervous, but then we were informed that they were elves. One of those arriving was your father, Tarviel. Go to him and try to find out the latest news from the Great Forest. You can see what's happening here! In any case, the appearance of the Goddess of Death does not bode well. When word reaches the townspeople, they'll flee Istra like rats from a sinking ship! I'm afraid the rumors will become more detailed, and we'll learn of the terrible prophecies supposedly uttered by Atesh. And if the Guild supports them, half our army will flee." The baron looked Haalen inquisitively in the eyes. "I need to know who this Ilrruil is. Why does the ancient healer Elmair obey him without question, while I've seen with my own eyes, Haalen, the arrogant messengers from the Great Forest tiptoe around her... And most importantly, will the Great Forest pursue him?"
Sighing, Haalen nodded slightly:
- Okay. I'll try...
*****
The fat man lay breathing heavily, eyes closed, on a dirty, tattered sofa in a shabby, windowless room. The din of many voices drifted through the door.
A thin, dark-skinned man, dressed in leather pants and a vest, squatted before the fat man. His face was pierced in numerous places with thin gold rings. His only weapon was a long sling with throwing knives.
"You were being stalked by the dark elf you hired as your guard? You're saying he killed the others, too?" He raised his eyes. "What the hell is going on in this damned barony anyway!!! First, Selon's entire group gets wiped out by the light elves, and the baron finds out we're behind it all! Now - this! Do you realize our entire network is under attack? There's clearly some treachery involved. Who can you trust after that?"
The fat man wheezed:
"You're right. Something went wrong. How did that dark one manage to hide his magical gift for so long? I don't understand. And he dealt with the girl so cleanly. She couldn't even utter a peep, and yet she was ready. There was something illogical about his appearance and actions... And why didn't he attack earlier? There were so many opportunities?"
- Hmm, yes. This is all very strange. Maybe this is some kind of game the dark elves are playing? You know they're having internal squabbles right now... And besides, something's started creeping up on them from the Depths.
The fat man opened his eyes and, looking at his interlocutor, said:
"Khatrim, my friend, contact Center again. Explain the situation and request instructions."
He stood up and said:
- Cold.
The man left the room and found himself in a narrow stone corridor. Five steps into one, he entered a large hall lined with tables. Seated at them were a diverse group of people, from soldiers to merchants, officials, and townspeople. They were all busy drinking and devouring various foods, all the while discussing the latest events and affairs. Many were already half-drunk at best, and their conversation with their drinking companions boiled down to the eloquent "Do you respect me? I respect you very much..."
The large tavern located near the gates to the Upper City was an excellent place to gather a variety of information. Hatrim even sometimes joked that he knew the state of affairs in the barony far better than the baron himself.
He glanced warily at the visitors visible from this place, closed the door behind him and, turning around, walked in the other direction.
Here the corridor was almost unlit.
The man walked past a large kitchen where a fat cook and several assistant cooks were preparing food.
Here, nodding respectfully to him, a girl ran past with a tray on which stood a large, corked clay bottle.
Turning onto the stairs, the man climbed to the second floor and unlocked one of the doors with a key. Beyond it was a richly furnished small bedroom with a wide, curtained window.
Stepping inside, the man locked the door with a heavy padlock and squatted down next to it. His fingers hooked one of the floorboards and pulled it out. In the recess that opened, a faintly glowing magical amulet of white metal rested on a thin chain.
Placing the floorboard next to the hiding place, Khatrim took the amulet with his right hand and, closing his eyes, clenched it in his fist.
He didn't sit like that for long. Opening his eyes again, he looked at his fist and unclenched his fingers. The amulet fell heavily back into its hiding place.
Quickly replacing the floorboard, the man stood up and reached for the lock. He froze, looking at his trembling fingers.
Clutching his head in his hands, he began pacing the room in circles, cursing obscenely. After a while, Khatrim calmed down a bit and approached the bed. Reaching under it, he pulled out a wide varnished wood case, the lid covered in a hefty layer of dust.
Inside the case were small, multicolored glass bottles piled high. Black, green, red, blue. Each contained either liquids or loose powders.
Taking the black bottle, he was about to close the case when he exhaled:
"Damn it! Lisa's going to bring a healer!" The man, lost in thought, sighed heavily and said, "Although, it'll be even better this way: I won't have to drag..."
He grabbed another black bottle, hesitated, and then took a couple of green ones.
Having returned the case to its place, Hartim left the room and carefully locked the door, even pushing it a little with his shoulder at the end.
As Khatrim descended and paused at the door to the room where the fat man lay, he heard the voices of a man and a woman coming from behind it. After listening warily for a few seconds, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.
A worried, beautiful, high-born brunette in a rich, fitted dress stood next to the fat man. A gray-haired, neatly dressed man with a pleasant face and well-groomed hands leaned over the fat man.
The brunette was just saying:
- ...there, my uncle ran into enemies and had to use a 'speed' potion to save his life... - she looked up at Hatrim and smiled joyfully: - Oh! And here is our benefactor! Lord Hatrim is the owner of this establishment. He sheltered my uncle for these hours while I ran for help. - the woman pointed to the guest: - And this is Lord Feanir. He is a healer.
He straightened up and began to bow:
"I can help. It won't be difficult, but it will be expensive. The price will be two gold pieces."
- Two gold coins? - the brunette exclaimed indignantly.
However, the fat man exhaled exhaustedly:
- Lisa, just pay him...
Her enthusiasm immediately vanished and, with a twitching corner of her mouth, she handed the healer two gold coins.
He took them with a flourish and squatted down in front of the fat man. Immediately, extending his hands, glowing green, over him, the healer began to move them along the body of the prostrate man.
Almost immediately he began to breathe more freely and clearly became more animated.
Then the healer removed his hands and said:
- Basically, I removed the negative impact and restored my strength. - He looked at the fat man: - How are you feeling?
He sat down and said thoughtfully:
- Thank you. Much better.
Lisa immediately started babbling:
"How grateful we are to you, Lord Feanir! If you only knew how many healers I had to run to just one to agree to help! I've been to almost every elven healer, but they were all so otherworldly. Can you imagine: even the great Elmair cited a strange illness and locked herself in her room! You don't know what's going on?"
The fat man narrowed his eyes and looked at Khatrim, who was playing with his mandibles.
The healer sighed heavily and answered:
"About an hour ago, the Goddess of Death, Ateš, was in the city. Every mage in Istra should have felt it. Elves, first and foremost, since they're inclined toward the Force. And in general, Ateš is related to their pantheon..." He thought for a moment and continued: "Although, this applies equally to the dark elves."
The woman said:
- Well, let's not keep you any longer: you probably still have a lot of things to do.
"Yes..." the healer nodded. "If anything happens, please contact me. All the best, gentlemen..."
- All the best. All the best... - she escorted him into the hall.
When she returned and closed the door, the fat man stood up and stretched with pleasure:
- Oh, how wonderful! - He stepped closer to Khatrim and quietly asked: - What did they say?
Khatrim lowered his gaze:
"Hir, Lisa... You've both been ordered to lay low for at least a week. A safe house has been set up on the edge of town. You're not to show your faces. They told you to get out of here immediately, as the entire city is being searched for you."
The fat man nodded:
- It's clear.
All three wore dark cloaks and pulled up their hoods.
After this, Khatrim led them to the back exit.
It was already night outside.
The number of passers-by and soldiers on the streets began to decrease.
Without stopping, all three quickly headed through deserted, unlit alleyways to the edge of the city.
At one point, Khatrim broke away slightly and, turning sharply, threw black bottles at the feet of his companions. They shattered with a loud pop, releasing a large cloud of white smoke from their interiors that instantly engulfed their targets.
The woman, wheezing, immediately fell face down, but the fat man tried to run out, but he was stopped by a throwing knife that entered his temple.
Khatrim, glancing around for any unwanted witnesses, stepped aside and stood motionless in the darkness, waiting for the smoke to clear. Only when all traces of it had vanished did he approach the bodies.
Carefully turning them over, he pulled the knife out of the fat man's head and, putting it back into his sling, took the green bottles out of his pocket.
"Forgive me. But this is an order," he whispered barely audibly and poured the contents onto the faces of the corpses.
Without lingering any longer, he disappeared into the darkness of the alley.
*****
Having settled down in the same interrogation room, I quickly put my clothes and weapons in order.
I had to pay attention to my bow and collect four dozen jagged arrows.
I finished it in an hour. That was basically the end of my archery training. Yes, I still had to paint and decorate the bow, but I wasn't going to be marching with it in a parade, was I?
At least for now.
Well, I have mithril and gold...
I glance at Elmayr, frozen in the deep shadow of the closet. Well, at least she's stopped chewing her gum, and that's good.
- Who else among the veterans are there in Istra?
She hesitated a little:
- No one. We usually keep to ourselves and live far from civilization. Even by the standards of our people.
- Do you have any connection with any of them?
She nodded slowly:
- Yes, my lord. Have you decided?
I sighed:
"I never had any desire to take... my mother's place. I always saw my sister in it. She had everything she needed. And she wasn't as disfigured by the war as I was. By the way, Elmayr, what did they say about her death and my fate?"
The elf clearly hesitated with her answer, obviously choosing her words:
- The official version of the Council is that you killed her, like your mother, and then Atesh took you to her kingdom.
I chuckled and turned to her:
"Very interesting. And who should we thank for this? Although, let me guess: that same Eriran, Prince of House Vieren?"
Elmayr lowered her head and whispered:
- Yes. They say he was the first to express this version.
I said harshly:
"When I arrived at the meeting place, Aviléa was already dead." She raised her head in shock and stared intently. I continue speaking: "I tried to heal her, but it was too late."
- But... What about the Lady?
"You want to know if I killed Irullel? Yes. I did. Ono was about to announce the start of the second campaign and call for general recruitment. But I objected, and the squabble escalated into a battle for that damned Throne..." Turning away, I began to clean the blood from my clothes with magic. I continued grimly: "Everything happened as described in the legends. That's why there are always so few Autwy. One true Autwy and his children, whose destiny is to kill him and fight among themselves for the demon Throne..."
Silence reigned.
Having completed the final preparations, I began to dress. I took the basic clothing and weapons from the bodies of the dark dead: their swords, knives, daggers, and a small crossbow with a dozen steel arrows. Incidentally, I'd anointed the latter with 'Breath of Death' poison back at the beginning, and the smell has now faded. I threw my original cloak over it: its quality is much better than the one I bought at the store. The finishing touches were a quiver of arrows and a bow.
Thoughtfully twisting the dark soldier mask in my hands, I put it in my pocket opposite my heart.
"Let's go..." I said and headed towards the exit of the room.
Elmayr asked, following me down the dark prison corridor:
- What's the plan, sir?
I turned my head towards her:
"Let's start by sorting out the financial chains. You said they contacted you? That even the kid at the entrance to your shop pays tribute? We'll start with them. Who, to whom, when... Once we've found these people, we'll use torture to extract the identities of the next link. We'll act quickly and brutally... I think by the end of this night, we'll have risen high enough up the chain that when the Guild starts reacting to the piles of corpses in the morning, we'll have enough information for further strikes, much more serious ones. Remember that town? I think it was called Karivitz?"
She nodded gloomily:
- I hope we don't have to fill the streets with corpses. What happened there...
I shrug:
- Well, the local authorities were against us there. Here, the situation is completely different.
We went upstairs and went outside.
Night. The parade ground was brightly lit by several bright magical lamps.
Despite the late hour, the fortress resembled a disturbed beehive.
Soldiers were everywhere, hurrying about their business. Sentries paced the generously lit walls.
The half-breeds stood in a tight group a little to the side. Some of them sat on the steps. Others were paying attention to their horses or their weapons.
I had already taken a step towards them when the same dark elf emerged from a particularly deep shadow between the columns of the prison building.
- Are you still here? - I raise my eyebrows in surprise.
"I have nowhere to go. Death awaits me everywhere," Atel whispered in response.
"Well, yes," I sneered. "They certainly won't forget about you. Even if someone were to spot you a hundred years from now, they'd kill you without a second thought. And your magical gift isn't fully formed right now, so even I was fooled by that. But when it takes its final form and it becomes clear that your primary Power is Death—and, as far as I remember, the magical gift of the Altraun priestesses is very, very unique—then any magically gifted member of your people will immediately recognize you." After a moment's thought, I added. "Well, not only that. Any mage would be interested in such an anomaly. And if Alehethorn puts a large reward on your head..."
"He's already put it out," she whispered quietly.
I tilted my head to my left shoulder and looked at her lips, stubbornly and firmly pressed into a thin line.
I allow myself to laugh:
"Fine. But you must know that I'm going to war. At least with Zarzan, but it looks like I'll have to go all the way. What happened and will happen in this city is just a warm-up. A test..."
Atel raised her head:
- I understand...
Chuckling, I went to the half-breeds.
Who would have thought I'd ever take a dark one of the Altraun under my wing? But she's the last one. Just like me. We're a bit alike. But beyond that, we share the same patroness.
The half-breeds rose as we approached.
I note their decent weapons and equipment. Well, expecting them to wear mithril armor would be rash: they are not Guardians of Peace and even have a very tangential relationship with the Houses.
I wonder if their parents support them? Or do they treat them simply as the fruit of a momentary weakness, evidence of their imperfection, a discrediting proof of their sin with man?
Haalen was not among them, but I recognized Esvi and turned to him:
- Who is the commander?
He stepped forward:
- I.
- What are the orders given to you by the baron?
He shrugged slightly:
- To provide you with comprehensive support in the matter of... - he nodded eloquently towards the patrol going about its business and quietly continued: -...the Guild.
I narrowed my eyes:
- So this organization has penetrated everywhere?
Esvi sighed:
"She was here long before the Baron and his predecessor. In fact, because of this, all previous actions taken against her failed. Sometimes miserably. Do you understand how one can go to fight those same smugglers if they learn of the raid the moment the Baron announces this intention to the officers? Faced with this resistance, he decided to organize us, since we were untouched by their structure. We were beyond their filth..."
He fell silent and I chuckled, continuing:
- Well, yes. We have our own puddle. - I thoughtfully developed the thought: - Although, it's not a puddle at all, but a sea. A sea of blood. - I walked along their uneven line, examining the narrow, almost elven, faces under the hoods: - And tonight we will drown many in it.
Exactly twenty. The Baron said three, but apparently some of the half-breeds remained to guard him.
Not much, but enough.
Elmayr, who controls the movements of the half-breeds, moves in step parallel to me.
I return back to a noticeably nervous Esvi and quietly ask:
- Are the main points or notable figures of the Guild known?
He glanced at Elmayr behind me and, swallowing, replied:
"We know the guard chief is definitely feeding them information, as the Baron has been feeding him certain information, and the Guild has been responding to it. His officers must also be involved. Furthermore, we fear that at least someone from Sir Rien's entourage is also under their control..."
I turn my head to the light elf:
- Do you have something for a quick interrogation?
Elmair snorts:
"Not much, really, but I have a large supply in the store..." She began listing, grinning crookedly: "For the weak will - ground Barrenflower and Turquoise Tongue flowers. For talkativeness - dried juice of the Tarnville herb... Besides that, I took various experimental samples."
I thought:
- Hm... Basically, it's night now. We could pounce on the chief of the guard and start unraveling the mess from him. Or try starting with another part. - I looked at the dark sky, generously sprinkled with stars: - But we don't have that much time. If you think about it, information from such a high-ranking official, by definition, can't go to a common agent. - I shrugged: - Well, let's start with him. - I beckoned to Esvi and when he approached, I quietly said to him: - Where does he live?
- He has a house in the Inner City. I can show you where...
*****
Haalen dismounted in the courtyard of a luxurious three-story mansion. A neatly dressed human servant rushed out, grabbed the horse's bridle, and bowed slightly to the half-breed.
- Mr. Haalen. The owner recently returned.
- Is he alone now?
- There were guests, but they literally just left.
"Was there something special about them?" the half-breed asked cautiously.
The servant whispered worriedly:
"They were from House Vieren. They all had the sword symbol on their collars. Besides, one of the arriving Eternals seemed otherworldly. It was as if he wasn't even there, but was simply standing there."
- Security? - Haalen thought: - Weapons, items of clothing?
- Rich and very skilled. I've only seen this from the master.
The half-breed sighed:
- Okay, I'm going to see my dad. Thank you...
The servant bowed after him.
Haalen entered the house and ran up the wide marble staircase to the second floor.
"Is Father in his office?" he asked the young maid hurrying past.
She bowed:
- Yes, sir. - and she hurried on.
Walking further down the corridor, he stopped at a large, carved, lacquered door and knocked on it.
Almost immediately a tired answer reached him:
- Come in, Haalen, I recognize your breathing and steps...
Opening the door, the half-breed found himself in a large, rich room, the floor of which was covered with a thick, bright green carpet.
The room was lit not only by magical lamps, but also by three metal braziers, from whose bowls a bright yellow flame of magical origin slowly leaped. Haalen knew they were lit only on special occasions.
In addition, a large fireplace was blazing, adding flickering shadows to the atmosphere.
The walls were lined with tall bookcases filled with books whose spines were inscribed with Elven runes.
The furniture in the office also included a business desk, two chairs in front of it, and several chairs arranged randomly.
Seated at the edge of the table was a graceful, golden-haired elf, dressed in a rich, dark green suit embroidered with mithril. He held a half-empty goblet of a thick, dark red, opaque liquid. Five more full glasses and an open, black-and-green glass bottle stood on the table.
Haalen knew his father well and realized that he was clearly in a gloomy, devastated state.
"Hello, son," he said, and quickly poured the liquid into his mouth. After taking a sip, he continued, looking into the fireplace. "Did you just drop by? Or...? Although, you serve the baron, and he must be concerned about Atesh's visit..."
The half-breed came closer:
"Father! It's not just that. Yesterday, we encountered a pure-blooded Highborne in the forest." Tarivel turned to face him and stared. Haalen continued: "He didn't kill the half-breeds and even communicated quite normally and was concerned about us. He was dressed in white armor made of specially bleached mithril. I've never seen anything like it..."
The elf interrupted him:
- Did you talk to him? Did he say something?
"Yes," the half-breed shrugged. "At first, he didn't remember anything about himself, but then he started remembering things little by little. He has a lot of magical power..."
"So it's true..." his father gasped in shock and threw the empty wine glass into the fireplace with all his might. Glass shattered. "So Atesh really did come to him! Damn it!"
"Forgive me, Father..." the half-breed interjected cautiously, and when the pure-blood turned his attention to him, he asked, "Who did she come to see?" But the elf remained silent. Then Haalen reached into his bosom and pulled out a bloody silk handkerchief embroidered with a gold leaf with a scarlet drop hanging from it. "Tell me, Father, what is this coat of arms?"
Tarivel glanced at the handkerchief. He reached out, took it in his thin, trembling fingers, and exhaled:
- Oh, gods! I should have told you about this, right? Perhaps I forgot? The golden leaf is the coat of arms of the House of Autwy! - the elf stretched the clumped fabric with his hands and, looking at the embroidery, continued: - A drop hanging from the leaf signifies personal inclinations. Lady Irullel's coat of arms had a green drop. She possessed a very strong gift for Life magic. Her father, as far as we know, had a white coat of arms. But Princess Aviléa's drop was blue and symbolized Water. Her fickleness and enormous magical power. The princess was the most powerful battle mage, if not of her time, then of our people. - the elf approached the chair and collapsed into it, exhausted. Looking at the handkerchief again, he continued: - But Prince Ilthariel's drop on the leaf was red. The reason for this, unlike that of his sister and mother, was kept secret. But there were a number of theories: Ilthariel was extremely cruel, and during the Twilight War, he was called the "Blood Prince" or even the "Blood Demon." He was also said to have possessed a special power over the blood of the Eternals—not just ours, but also the dark ones. It was said that you couldn't play hide-and-seek with him. He sensed ambushes and unerringly pointed out disguised scouts. Sometimes, he could literally force blood to flow from an enemy's body through their mouth, eyes, ears, and even pores. There's also a theory that he was simply highly gifted in the Element of Fire and Light magic. The prerequisites for these conclusions were noted during the final stages of the Twilight War... But only veterans know the truth, and they remain silent...
The silence that followed was broken by Haalen:
"Father, who has arrived in Istra? I see five glasses, but no one has taken a sip."
The elf carefully and even tenderly placed the handkerchief on the table and glanced at the table:
"The Prince was informed of what happened four hours ago. I understand, almost immediately after Atesh's appearance. He didn't hesitate for long... A liquidation team was formed... I believe it was ready: something like this was expected. You know that Eriran wants to become the Overlord. The armed forces of our House have long been in a state of full readiness: the Prince wants to show that he is ready for war for the Throne..." The pureblood rose gracefully from his chair and approached the table. Taking one of the glasses, he thrust it into his son's hands. "Drink. This wine was made by Autwy. They say that this particular batch was made during the birth of the Blood Prince. It would be a shame to pour it into the fireplace or give it to the servants..." After watching the half-blood take a small sip, the elf continued. "At the same time, I don't think that's really true. Yes, our House is the strongest." The Prince has put a great deal of effort into ensuring that we not only recovered from the Twilight, but even grew in power. Meanwhile, the other Houses aren't doing so well...
Haalen took another sip from his glass and said:
- But this is a prince! - he exclaimed: - Autwy! A living legend! The protector of half-breeds! Maybe we should intervene on his side? At least warn him!
Suddenly he swayed and leaned his left hand on the table. Shaking his head, he looked at the glass in surprise.
The elf said sadly:
- And go against the will of your Prince?
"But..." the half-breed shook his head again and swayed. The empty wine glass slipped from his weakened fingers. His father picked him up and sat him down in a chair. As he did so, some of the wine from his glass splashed onto the half-breed's light armor. Haalen looked at the viscous liquid and asked, "What's in the wine?"
The elf also sat down in the next chair and answered sadly, looking into the fire:
"Nothing. It's wine made by Autwy. It's a magical drink, crafted to knock down even monsters like them. I wanted to give it to the five assassins who arrived with me, so the prince would live at least another five or six hours before they sent him back to the Underworld. But they somehow figured out what kind of treat it was... And when they left to carry out their orders, I decided to get drunk myself... So I wouldn't have to remember that damned moment."
Haalen said drunkenly:
- I get it. You decided to hide from problems and difficult decisions...
He nodded:
- Yes. You're right. And I hate myself for it.