Ch.48

It was the dead of night; a man wearing chainmail walked down the street. Strapped to his waist was a sheathed blade, clutched in his hand a swinging lantern that lit the path ahead. The lantern was not lit by a flame, but by a bead of light, magical in nature, holy in bright. The light that it shone flashed and flickered between the lantern's edges, revealing in motion, the man's crest, worn across his chest. He was a Seratholic. A paladin.

He made his way through the town of Calvin, through the alleyways until he entered into a building with a large wooden door. Once inside, he met with a group of men who were awaiting his arrival.

The room was lit by candles, thus the paladin placed down his lantern, snuffing out its light with a short, whispered chant. "Silenzi."

The four men in the room eyed the lantern, intrigued by the sight of true magic, but business was quick to come to attention.

"Sit." One of the men said, a well kept men, with oiled and slicked back hair, and a fine suit. "Reg will pour you a drink." He said, prompting one of the men at his side to stand up from his seat, walk over to the drawers against the wall, and grab hold of the bottle of liquor resting atop.

"No. I will refrain from drinking this night. My wife will not be pleased to find me having returned with the foul stench of the dark's favor." The paladin refused, prompting the standing man to placed back down the bottle, and return to his seat. "Let us make this quick. The silver."

The well kept man clicked his tongue, before waving his hand in prompting his man at his right to bring over a chest full of coin. The chest dropped with a loud clink of many coins against the wooden table. He opened it, revealed stacked silver coins, neatly aligned. "It is there. Just as it was last time."

"Yes..." The paladin's dark eyes looked on, a sly grin on his face, yet he looked up, and said grin was quick to turn sour. "It is not as though I am quick to believe... Thugs, like yourself, but I believe you to be true. Still... I am afraid I will require a raise in tax."

"What?!" The well kept man slammed his balled up fist against the table in sitting up. Having shouted loudly enough that a dog in the distance had started barking, and having struck the table hard enough that the roof shook free of clumps of dust, he toned down his anger, yet still continued, but in a lowered volume. "How dare you play this fool's game with me again. The deal had been set before, and I allowed your impudence only because of your value. Your value has limits, Hendrick."

The paladin clutched the grip of his blade, prompting the men to think twice as they eyed his movement. Seeing them cower ever so slightly, the paladin smirked. "Mister Clarkson. Perhaps you are the one becoming too impudent. This coin is not only to pay me off to keep the church from cleansing this town of you filthy ingrates, but to keep others quiet as well. The price of their sealed mouths has risen, and when you take this tone with me, it only loosens the seal on mine." A light voice, snarky and taunting, but he lowered his tone, deepening his voice as he demanded. "Twenty more. Else, the full wrath of the holy will come onto thee with righteousness and fury."

The men were at odds, but he, Mister Clarkson, composed himself, lowered himself back into his seat, and leaned back with a cold hard stare as he ordered Reg. "Reg. Go into the other room and get twenty silver."

"...Will do, boss."

"This is what we get for doing business with the church. Were it up to me, I'd never had gotten into the loop with you fuckin woops."

"You should have thought about that before you thugs decided to begin business outside of Calvin. Perhaps you should have stayed rats in the gutter, but you chose to build up this gutter of a street into a, might I say, quite a nice little town. Had you never done that, we would have ignored you, like dragons would an ant, but, you wanted to have a better life, and to obtain such a life requires coin, and under the church's eye, no coin goes untaxed. Of course, your line of business is far from honorable, so don't pretend you're a victim. You're all a bunch of uneducated thugs. Fools, who would sooner such the dick of a steed, than live an honest life."

Anger welled up within the men, but they remained silent in their boil. Seconds later, Reg would return with the requested coin, adding it to the paladin's sum who eagerly took it in hand, while his other remained on the hilt of his silver blade.

"Take your coin and leave, swine."

The paladin, with a taunting grin, turned around to leave, but not without a final say. "There is irony in my words, is there not? As thou are the children, whore of a mother who would suck such a beast's groin." That would be the paladin's last mistake; an inch too far.

Control had left age Mister Clarkson as he raised up his arm with a gun in hand. It was a simple weapon, a long barrel of iron, a stock of wood, and with a bullet loaded, he pulled the trigger while shouting profanities in cursing the paladin. "You bastard! Burn in hell you fucker!!" An explosion, a loud boom. The iron round would find its way into the paladin's back, breaking through the chain and burrowing its way into his heart. This incident would be the match to a pile of twigs.

The body of the deceased would be found more than a day later in the remains of the burned down building where only the stone bricks remained, scorched to black. What remained of the paladin was a charred skeleton and their weapon and armor. Three paladins stood over the body. They offered a prayer, before taking up the remains in placing of them in a coffin.

"Quomodo audeant?" The words of the bishop echoed through the church's great halls. "Quomodo audeant..?" He spoke again, Serudinian, with a raised brow. "Ausi sunt ethnici nostro sub vexillo caedem facere?" Thus, heathens! Gather the order. Issue a decree to exterminate thus murderers. Nam deae" And with those words spoken, paladins would begin to march their way across the city in a rough sweep, brutally taking prisoner any they suspected of being involved with gangs. They acted with smoking grace, the picture of honor and virtue, yet their fists stained blood as they acted to round up all they deemed unclean.

A lone paladin, clad in white armor a tier above his compatriots, strayed from the church's vision and into the enemy grounds. He walked the streets that he would sooner spit on in calling the slums as though he owned every overgrown and rat shit covered brick. He was fearless walking into a bar full of drinking men who went silent upon his arrival; the creaking of the door hinges acting as an echo to his heavy step.

"Where, is the boot licker, Nickelson at?" He demanded.

To the back room the paladin met with the scarred man whose name he called. Mister Nickelson sat alone with him, while his lackeys left in silence. "To see a paladin, dressed for war, in my very own quarters. What a sight." He spoke roughly through straight teeth. "Sit? Why don't you."

"I think not." The paladin hissed. "Mister Nickelson. You used to be someone in these slums. Now, you are a servant. I come as a proxy of the holy church with an offer of salvation. Hand over your boss as well as provide us with information that we want, and you will be pardoned for your ill doings."

Mister Nickelson raised his hand up to his scarred jaw, gently rubbing it as though to pop the joint with a light stretch of his mouth. A crispy and clattering array of pops rang out. Rasp breathing escaped his lips. "You expect me to be able to do that?"

"Even we have heard of your shame. The great slum lord, beaten brutally before the commoners like a dog. Your surgery by the physicians was a strenuous process, and your recovery was heard to be quite painful. Does revenge not tempt you?"

"The church could have healed me with their great and powerful magic."

"It is not magic!" The paladin barked. "Holy is divine, not the work of mortal doings as is bestowed upon us by a higher force. We wield what is not ours, but hers. Her gift is to be shared among her children and followers. You were refused because you are unfaithful. Scum. Had you chosen a righteous path, you would have been healed, but you chose the life of a griffith." Every word he uttered was filled with scorn for the man before him, every click of tongue and teeth, an insult to Nickelson.

"The life I have lived was forced upon me by my encounters. Perhaps had your church invaded sooner, had I lived a different life."

The paladin laughed heartily. "Yes, perhaps, but that path was set ablaze, allow me to offer you a new one. Your wound is not too far gone. Do what I ask, and you will be cleansed, be it you choose to follow in her light."

"Yet again, I ask you. How am I to aid you in doing what you ask? The one who did, this, is careful. Over the, what has felt like an eternity, I have sought revenge, only to find myself with no room to even breath. He is as careful as the most cunning rogue. Rarely does he show himself, never has he made a mistake. Do you even know what he looks like?"

"...No."

"That is my point exactly. I have come to fear many things in my life, never had I thought I would come to fear one man above all else. The... Things he has done. The people that have gone missing without a trace. The loudest of the crowd, who have learned to hold their tongue out of fear. The power he has amassed in such fortitude and haste. It is something that I had never even conjured in thought. Weapons that can kill with such deadly force and precision, handed out like candy. Do you know what he is called?"

"It almost sounds like you admire him. What is he called?"

"There is a word in High Common. Phantom. What disappears in the darkness of the corner, only to reappear elsewhere. It is as though he can walk through walls."

"Enough of this. You will do as is commanded of you, or you will be dragged out in chains."

"I fear a man who would strike a deal with the church for his own benefit, more than the church that would offer one to escape from him. That tells me everything that I need to know."

"Insolentia!!" The paladin stepped forward, shoving to the side the chair in his way and striking down upon the table.

"You think we don't know of his deal with the church? With your masters? I fear a man whose reach stretches farther than his arm's length, more than you..." Nickelson pushed himself up by the arms of his seat. "...Northern invader who claims Highland as their own!! You Serudinian back stroker!!" Bleeding was his mouth that had reopened old wounds, yet his ground he stood as he pushed through the pain.

Of course, Mister Nickelson could do little else other than be taken away by the church. Dragged away were many of the men thought to be criminals, yet wordless they remained either out of loyalty or fear. Back in Innah'vadah, the docks were closed off and the ships were halted. There would be no more trading as the church began to crack down on Erik's network of trade routes. Though it would cause a damper in his funds and goods, it would ultimately be of little pain brought to him. Yet, the church would find the confiscated goods to be most pleasing, finding raw material by the handful, coin by the pound, and alcohol and tabaco that only nobles would be able to drink and smoke. Yes, the church were most eager, even as many men remained locked away in the stockades.

Invisible and silent, a shadow in the corner in one moment, frightful was the bishop upon seeing an owl outside the window. He blinked, and in the next moment as he remained staring out at the window, to the owl resting on the branch, he realized the figure now standing in the corner. He gasped, jumping out of bed in fright, only for the deep, threatening voice to bring about a stop to his rash actions. "Stultus esses si auxilium clamares."

The bishop, standing just outside his bed, standing stiffly with already beading sweat falling down his face, turned his head to the corner of the room. "Impossibilis..."

"We had made a deal, Bishop Artmin."

"How? How have you entered into my quarters?"

"No wall will keep me from you, bishop. I had so many rumors spread to keep would-be troublemakers in line. Your ego outweighed your better judgement."

"You... You are the one who broke the deal first. The death of one of my clergy is not to be taken lightly."

"He overstepped. He was greedy and was better killed off, whether by my hand, or yours. You should have kept your men in better line, but of course, I will not hold that against you, as I failed to keep mine aligned... ...Worry not. Even at this very second, he is being dealt with. The fool who brought about this whole ordeal." He uttered such simple words, in comparison to the reality of the death being brought to the gunman who'd shot down the paladin and set spark to the whole ordeal. He was set ablaze, along with his home and family, an act carried out by his Fallenic Knights who oversaw their punishment. In the paper, it was called an unfortunate accident, but Erik made sure that people knew the truth from words in the wind.

"So I have read. What is it that you plan on doing? Killing me? Threatening me? Bribing me further? Your coin will only get you so far, and my death will bring you the entirety of the church upon your head. As for threats, you have no heel over me. I am the one threatening you, as with a single letter, I can call for an order to come within the coming months, to exterminate you like pests."

Arched did the bishop's back with a straight look in his eye. A grin was eager to escape, but he held his stance. Erik, however, hidden in the shadows, was unfazed by the bishop's threats. He stepped forward, revealing himself in his dark armor to the surprise of the bishop. "Killing me? Threatening me? Bribing me further? Nothing you possess will tempt me, as I could simply take it. You could not kill me had you a blade to my throat. As for threats..." He approached quicker, his voice deep and malice laced, as though to frighten the bishop out of his own wits. The bishop fell back into the nightstand, toppling over the lamp and gasping for breath as he pushed back against the wall. "...You have no heel over me. I am the one threatening you, as with a single letter, the deaths of hundreds of order members will be apparent to all, as they are exterminated like pests." He stopped just over the cowering bishop, a figure of darkness without so much as a sound of his steps as he made his way across the room. It was as though every orifice escaped only cold air, as though the suit of armor were hollow. "Threaten me not, bishop. I dareth you to summon your holy order. I will enjoy the game of tact, as I lay siege to this city in burning down your churches." He pulled the bishop by his collar, dragging him across the room as the man struggled and yelped.

"Emitte me! Scurra! Homicida! Sceleste!I"

To the other end of the room, he was thrown into the comfort of his expensive chair, turned, swiveled to face his desk. Erik placed a parchment before him, taking an inkless pen as jabbing it into the bishop's arm. The bishop screamed. "I will watch as you write it in your own blood and seal it in wax."

Still reeling from the pain and unable to settle his panicked breathing, the bishop began praying. "Dea, in tenebris captus sum et spes mea paene extincta est. Da mihi fortitudinem ut vincam terrorem et libertatem inveniam. Audi me, in miseria clamo ad te: eripe me ex manibus inimicorum meorum. Miserere mei, Dea, et adiuva me nunc, quia nulla alia spes mihi restat."

He wrote with urgency and unsteadiness, running out of blood midway through, he was forced to dip into his own bleeding arm to continue. His prayer he uttered through clenched teeth, while sweat dripped down from his chin. He breathed heavily through his nostrils, finding a newfound strength in the form of rage as he continued writing. When he finally finished, he rolled the paper and sealed it in hot wax. He smiled, turning back to find himself alone in his room. His eyes were wide, his expression that of confusion. Yet, as he looked down to his bleeding arm, he knew not to turn back. With a bright light, he healed his arm and left his room, shouting for someone to come.

"Aliquis! Festina! Veni!! Lussa mitte nunc!!"Cum urgentia!!"