[5]

"Sounds like a long of stupidity to me," Priscilla said as Bishop Luis handed her a tray full of bowls before taking a tray himself. "Let us head back. Gretchen, have your husband and your son take the soup upstairs, please."

"Right away!" Gretchen responded over her shoulder as she worked several pots.

"Of course it is," Bishop Luis responded to Priscilla's comment. "But Bishops are only in charge of the major cities. We are 'grunts' within the church. The actual higher-ups are called the Inquisition."

"How come I hadn't heard of this before?" Priscilla commented as she followed the Bishop back through the corridors.

"Because the Empire only tolerates us," Bishop Luis said. "I'm sure they do not teach you much in the way of religion, other than the Emperor is a god."

"They haven't taught that in several years," Priscilla said. "We recently gained a Theology course within the Academy. I've always wanted to join it..." Her voice grew smaller as the memories of her friends surfaced. She hadn't done much of anything so they all could take classes together. Their schedules had been a mutant of compromises between the group.

"And why haven't you?" The Bishop stopped, sensing the change in her voice.

Priscilla nearly bumped into him. She managed to stop and balanced the bowls to keep them from clattering to the floor. She looked up to him. He saw her eyes held a vastness he'd only seen in the old soldiers. Bishop Luis felt his heart soften when he saw it. He may not have been the best person, but like others, he believed a child's eyes should be bright; full of naive hope and wonder.

"Because I wanted to be with my friends..." Priscilla said with a sobering quietness as she pushed past him and into the main hall.

∇

Old bricks held underneath the weight of centuries. They still bore the signs of war. Genocide. Destruction. Not even moss had dared to grow within the forgotten tunnels of Gulley's port. Commander Jogun did not know it by that name; he knew it by a much older name. A name long tarnished by the barbaric transgressions of humans and beastmen.

"Etheral Sands." The draugr spat with a snarl.

Flanked by several Black Ones and the tens of undead, they marched near silently through the dry underground. Tunnels that'd been built with elven stone by the eastern dwarves. Etheral Sands had been one of the first cities where the two races could co-exist. It'd been beautiful when Commander Jogun had been alive. In fact, he had walked these very tunnels.

The anger in him had been bitter memories turned red.

He could still hear the laughter of children. The bustle of those annoying, but honest dwarves. The sweet singing of High Elves. He could no longer taste. No longer feel. The memories had turned to ash in his mouth regardless. The last time he'd been through, they were running for their lives. Running from the host of invading humans who, despite the city's elite guards and magical powers, fell underneath the sheer numbers the humans threw at them.

He could see the phantoms of women and children. The old and the sick. He could not remember their individual faces, but he could still remember the fear that hung in the air. Thicker than the smoke that rose from the falling city. The tunnels they marched through now had been the emergency tunnel for dwarves. It'd been tunneled for when the sea eventually poured into their caverns. Only by the grace of the superior elven stones had it never collapsed anywhere. He had once complained about the cost of it.

Now he was happy they had built it so strong. Because now he was marching back into it to slaughter the invaders. As if the undead behind him could feel his anger, his hate, their eyes glowed a bright blue within the inky black tunnel.

Then, Commander Jogun had sensed it. The tunnel had a constant temperature to it. Cool and dry. Now the ambient temperature had begun to warm ever slightly. As they continued their advance, the tunnel began to change. There were bones. They were of the elves and dwarves who hadn't made it. The ones who'd been injured. Marching past them, they finally began to find signs of life. Mold. Moss. Small critters.

Commander Jogun could feel the moisture on his leathery brown skin. Eventually, they came to the end of the tunnel. A light flickered through several holes in the mortar. Possibly from where the humans had tried to break through the stone. Maybe they had tried to expand. Whichever it was, it didn't matter.

Jogun pressed his hand against the warm stone and uttered an incantation. The lines between the stones glowed a faint blue. Then, they died down. Two Black ones appeared at his sides and began to push the stones out. With each one, they clattered onto things. Wood and metal. Several bricks later, they had to pull them as they found themselves behind a large shelf. The light poured around its contents and once they had gotten down to their hips in height, they pushed it over.

The shelf clattered to the stone below and glass shattered, along with clay pots. The draugr had been the first through the opening. He kicked the shelving aside and found himself with a shocked audience. There were a few young human males, bulky and wide-eyed. There was an older man in white robes, adorned with a sun. The sun stolen from their God Madin. They had reached their target, and even better, found their most hated enemy.

The draugr gave a wicked grin and drew his weapon.