REVILED

Magister Cromwell squinted at the documents in front of him. It was the usual petitions and reports he normally had to go through to keep the city running. They were also the reason why he had to wake up early every morning and stay up late, but it was necessary since the Duke wanted to spend more time with his family. It was a sacrifice he didn’t mind making. After all, Sir Maelon would become duke in a few more months, and a new magister would take his place.

Cromwell signed the petition, approving the next rotation of soldiers to be sent to the front with Sir Phineas, and rose from his chair. He stared out into the early morning. There was still a hint of darkness hanging around the horizon, but it was quickly fading away. He stood there taking in the serenity. A needed peace before the day truly began. A peace that was broken by the rapid pounding on his office door.

“Enter,” Cromwell sighed. A haggard looking attendant pushed inside, “What is it?”

The attendant closed the door and shuffled towards him, “Sir…his grace, Sir Maelon,” he frantically looked around.

“Out with it!”

“He’s dead.”

Cromwell stumbled backwards, “What…happened,”

“His body was found this morning at the bathhouse, along with the bath attendant,” the attendant said, “His body was found skewered on a spike of ice with…his head and manhood removed.”

“Has the Duke been informed?” Cromwell leaned against the window.

“Not yet.”

“Good,” Cromwell said taking a deep breath, “Have the guards secure the bathhouse. Let no one in until I say so.”

“Yes sir,” the attendant ran out of the room.

Cromwell took a few more deep breaths before stepping out of his office. This early in the morning, the Duke would be enjoying the sunrise with his wife out on their balcony. The thought of telling them the fate of their son broke his heart. Cromwell stood in front of their door and gently knocked on the door.

“Your grace, I have something I need to tell you,” Cromwell said straightening his robes, “May I come it?”

“Enter,”

Cromwell quietly pushed into the master bedroom. The Duke and Duchess sat close to each other at the small table on their balcony. They both were still dressed in their night robes sipping on tea with their hands intertwined.

“Good morning, Cromwell,” the Duchess smiled warmly at him, “Would you care for some tea?”

“Thank you, my lady, but no,” Cromwell said standing at the balcony door, “I’m sorry to disturb your morning, your grace, but I have urgent information that needs your attention.”

“Is it that important,” The Duke looked to his wife with a pained expression. His thumb gently rubbing against her forefinger.

“I afraid so sir,”

The Duke sighed with a nod, “I’m sorry my dear,” he kissed her hand then leaned over and gave her a deep kiss, “I’ll make it up to you tonight.”

The Duchess smiled at him and gave him another kiss before he left. Cromwell followed the Duke to his office. The staff bowed to the Duke with genuine smiles and a warm greeting to which he returned in kind. The Duke stepped into his office and sat at his desk.

“All right Cromwell,” The Duke sighed stretching his neck, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m…sorry to inform you…that Maelon is dead,” Cromwell said clearing his throat.

The Duke stared at him dumbfounded, “My…son,” he croaked with tears forming in his eyes. The Duke took several shallow breaths as he stared at his hands, “But…I saw him last night. He was alive.” The Duke glared up at him, “Who killed my son!”

“I don’t know sir,” Cromwell said, “I just found out about it. I’m having the guards secure the place where he was found.”

The Duke forcefully stood up, “What are we waiting for,” he said storming out, “And go fetch Sir Halligan!”

Halligan shifted uncomfortably at the sight of his reflection. Scars riddled his body, trophies that he wore proudly, but it was his left arm that disgusted him. The flesh below the elbow was gone revealing the bleached white bone of his forearm and hand. The price of his foolishness for wearing a cursed gauntlet. He watched the bones in his wrist and fingers shift with a soft clicking as he slipped on the black gauntlet. The magic made his arm itch as it coursed through his bones, and he peeked into his bedroom.

Priscilla, the Duke’s youngest daughter, slept in the wide bed, curled up in the sheets. She spent all night teaching him to read and write. A skill he was grateful to learn, but it made his heart ache. The poor girl was doing everything in her power to win his affection, but it wasn’t going to work. He saw her more like a younger sister than a lover. His right hand brought the braided cord around his neck to his nose. Her scent was long gone, only a memory remained, but it didn’t stop him from remembering her face.

A knock sounded from the door, and the Duke stormed into his room.

“I need you to come with me.”

By the end of the hour, Halligan sat in the Duke’s carriage. It felt small due to the Duke’s seething rage. The court mage, Elizar, sat next to the Duke, trying to study his spell book, and Magister Cromwell was going over several reports.

“May I ask where we’re going your grace,” Halligan took a deep breath trying to calm himself.

“The bathhouse,” The Duke growled, “There was…an incident last night. One you should know of.”

Halligan nodded. He turned to the window and saw the people outside going about their day. They were smiling and laughing, enjoying the bright, sunny day. None of them were aware of the horror residing in their city.

The carriage rocked to a halt and the coachman let them out. The grand structure of the bathhouse reminded him of a temple. It’s white pillars glistening in the sunlight, and the glass dome sparkled. The inside was equally impressive, until he saw the statue. Halligan stared in shock as the severed head of Maelon stared at them in horror as it desecrated the statue of Touldan. Streams of blood ran down the statues robes and feet, pooling at the base before seeping onto the floor. An intense itch throbbed under his left gauntlet.

“By the Virtues,” Cromwell gasped at the sight.

The Duke approached the statue and fell to his knees. His cries echoed through the vast foyer. The few guards that were with them bowed their heads in respect.

“You two should begin investigating,” Cromwell whispered Halligan and the mage, “There should be evidence in the main bath.”

The two men nodded and quietly as they made their way into the back. Two groups of guards stood in the large bathing area, one around a headless body skewered on a spike of ice, and the other around a woman’s body thrown to the side. The court mage made his way to the headless body. Halligan made his way to the other body trying desperately to ignore the pulsing of his gauntlet.

The guards turned to him and stepped out of his way. The woman was beautiful, once, but the gaping hole in the center of her forehead made him flinch. Her death was quick, and hopefully painless.

“Who is she?” Halligan said, trying to avoid gazing at her exposed body.

“The bathhouse attendant,” a guard whispered, “They keep the building clean, and sometimes…perform special services. His grace was most like enjoying those services before he passed.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Her hand,” Another guard said. Halligan looked and noticed her hand was cupped with the thumb and forefinger making a circle, but it was also stained in blood. Halligan looked at the guards confused. “Haven’t you been to a brothel before?”

“No,”

“You should,” the guard sighed.

“Sir Halligan!” the court mage waved him down.

Halligan quickly made his way to the other side of the room. Just like with the woman, he flinched when he noticed Maelon’s missing appendage, and where the spike had pierced the body. It was a terrible sight.

“What have you found?” Halligan took a deep breath.

“This was definitely done by a powerful magic caster,” Elizar said, “You would need a high level of skill to control that much natural mana to freeze an entire pool, not to mention the skill needed to shape it while maintaining the spell.”

“Could you do that?”

The court mage wheezed a chuckle, “Of course not, only a true wizard could perform such a feat and you’ll only find them in the capital,” the mage’s face turned sour, “However, I’m picking up a hint of necrotic magic as well. It’s lingers throughout the entire bath, but there’s a concentrated source coming from that spot.” He pointed to the edge of the second pool. They found a pool of thick black sludge, but the shape hinted at what it once was. “So, this is where his manhood was removed,” the mage gagged, “This is definitely the work of necrotic magic.”

“The bath attendant must have been killed here too.” Halligan said pointing to the pool of blood to avoid scratching at his arm. “Apparently, she was servicing him before she died. What’s odd is that she had a large amount of blood on her hand.” Halligan made the same gesture.

“So, it was cut off during the service, but why would his grace allow that?” the mage stroked his chin, “Do you think the attendant was involved?”

“No, otherwise she wouldn’t have been killed,” Halligan said, “Are there spells that could explain this?”

The court mage flicked through his spell book, “There are a few,” he said, “But with the amount of necrotic magic in the air, I’m thinking the caster used Noxious Miasma. It would have the strongest paralysis effect.”

“That would explain the hole in the woman’s head,”

“Hole?”

“Yes, she had a hole in the middle of her forehead.”

The mage’s face turned pale, “So, his Grace's son was killed by the mysterious murderer? Why would he target nobility?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t like it.”

Taela cowered next to the raised platform where the monster sat. The atmosphere was heavy as everyone sat around waiting. Every few seconds she would glance up at it. The red headed woman, Meridith, was held in the monster’s arms. Taela’s heart ached at seeing her in such a state, but she knew that the emotion wasn’t hers. The monster’s influence was seeping into her through the compulsion spell that bound her, and after a week, it was getting hard to distinguish her feelings from its.

A knock came from the basement door, and Baron was let in by one of the thugs Oria employed. He looked ragged. His luscious black hair was unkempt and unwashed, and dark circles hung around his eyes. A perpetual frown replaced his constant mischievous grin, but his mouth twitched into a small smile when he saw her.

“I’ve kept my end of the bargain monster,” Baron glared at the monster.

The monster gently set Meridith to the side and rose to its feet. Taela stood as well and took a step towards Baron. Before she realized it, the monster tore off Taela’s shift and clawed at her chest, and she screamed as the magic coursed through her. The monster pushed her into Baron.

“Bastard, you–” Reviled drove its claws into Baron’s chest, and Taela cried as warm blood seeped down her chest.

“You should know, a slave crest can be applied wherever we can touch.”

Baron’s pain filled the room. When his cries stopped, Reviled threw him to the ground. Taela tried to stop the bleeding with her tattered clothing. Her own pain nearly forgotten.

“You two are too useful to let go,” Reviled growled. The wound in Baron’s chest glowed as the monster healed him. “From now on, you belong to us.”

“You’re letting them join after what they did to Red?” Oria scoffed.

“Yes,” Reviled stated taking Meridith back into its arms, “However, we’ll be keeping them on a tight leash,” Pain seared through Taela’s chest, and she doubled over onto Baron, “Be warned, I doubt his heart could withstand the strain.”

Taela nodded, staining Baron’s chest with tears. Slowly, they rose to a sitting position. They were unable to avoid everyone’s glares.

“What’s the next move?” Kogna said, tending to his sword.

“It’s time we overthrew Decker.”