REVILED

Meridith stared at the black, red, and gold mask in her hand. The full mask had no expression which made it come off as mysterious and unsettling. She glanced over at Mina. Illusion magic made her hair look like pitch darkness, absorbing all the light that struck it leaving a white outline. Her modest ivory dress shimmered with gems, and she admired the white mask in her hands. Oria’s hair shined like the golden sun, and her revealing blue dress was laced with pearls. She played with her blue and gold mask. Meridith played with a lock of her own hair, and she admired the illusion that made it look like flame. Her black and red dress completely covered her, and black silk gloves covered her hands.

The carriage shook as it took a corner and Reviled growled as his head hit the roof. Despite the large ornate wagon, Reviled sat hunched over. He used illusion magic to hide in the shadows of his cloak with his red eyes being the only thing piercing the darkness.

Mina chuckled as Reviled shifted in the plush seat, “Does our pain amuse you?”

“Forgive me master,” Mina smiled sweetly, “But I don’t think carriages suit you well.”

“True,” Reviled laughed along, “But we can’t just walk to the theater, can we.”

“True,” Oria said, “I don’t even want to image the ruckus you’d cause.”

“Speaking of ruckus, will Andren be ready?”

“Yes boss,” Oria smiled viciously.

“Good,” the carriage rocked to a halt, “Let’s go ladies.”

The carriage door opened. The lanky Emmett stood by the door wearing a well-tailored suit. The women placed on their masks and filed outside. Emmett gave Mina and Oria a cheeky smile as he gave them a quick glance over, but when Meridith stepped out, he lowered his gaze in respect. Meridith gently touched his cheek in thanks as she joined the other women. The carriage shifted as Reviled stepped out. An elderly looking man wearing a masquerade mask approached them with his arms outstretched. A group of women wearing black dresses with veils over their faces followed behind them.

“Oria, you look lovely,” he said taking her hands, “The illusion magic is a nice touch.”

“Thank you Wilfried,” Oria chuckled, gesturing to the wagon behind the carriage, “We’ve brought the merchandise.”

“Excellent,” Wilfried laughed, and his gaze fell onto Reviled. He bowed low to the monster, “It’s an honor to finally make your acquaintance. My name is Wilfried.”

“You may call us Master Legion,” Reviled said approaching, “Shall we get the merchandise inside.”

“Yes, you’re right,” Wilfried said, calling to his workers. They started unloading the wagon under the gaze of Oria’s men, “I would like my associates to look over the items first,” Wilfried gestured to the women, “They’re skills in identifying magic items will assure that you receive the greatest value for them.”

“I didn’t realize you hired witches,” Reviled nodded in approval, “By all means, let us appraise these items.”

Kogna left the wagon and joined them. His hair matched Mina’s, and his white, red, and gold brigandine matched his sword scabbard. One of the witches fell to the back to talk with him.

The workers popped open the crates and laid the contents onto a series of long tables. The witches ran their hands over each piece as they mumbled under their breath, then they wrote the appropriate value on the parchment under the item. Reviled, Wilfried, and Oria stood to the side as they prepared for the auction, but Meridith stood by herself, her gaze lingering on the door.

“Poor dear,” Meridith jumped and turned to the old, blind woman standing behind her, “I sense…such pain coming from you.”

“Who are you?”

The woman’s cackle turned to a cough, “An associate of dear Wilfried,” she said, “He hired me and my granddaughters for the appraisal.”

“Well then, I should leave you to your work,” Meridith turned to leave.

“Using magic is difficult, isn’t it,” the witch playfully tapped her cane against the floor. Meridith stopped and quickly turned back to her, “You’re not the first woman to try her hand at wizardry. The problem is…women don’t have the skills to understand it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Men like order, they like understanding,” the woman scoffed, “They want every little thing to fit in its proper place, that’s why they’re good at building things…and destroying them,” she released a wheezing laugh, “Women however, we desire beauty, passion. We want the world to conform to our desires, not the other way around. We don’t care for logic, and who cares if things aren’t in their proper place,” Bright blue flames danced around them, taking on the form of flowers and small animals.

Meridith stood transfixed, “Is this…”

“Witchcraft, yes,” the witch smiled proudly, “If wizardry is a science, then witchcraft is art. If we want our flames to be blue, then they’re blue, or maybe a lovely green,” the flames changed to a deep green, “Or maybe even…a passionate pink,” the woman sighed nibbling on her fingers. The flames turned to a deep pink that pulsed every few seconds, “Forgive me dear, I…was remembering a lovely memory.” Meridith chuckled. “I hope you understand, for us witches, imagination is the source of our power, not logic. After all, wizards are the least imaginative people in the world, that’s why all their spells look the same.”

“What is that about our spells,” Reviled scoffed as it stood over them.

The witch gawked at the monster, her lower lip trembling in fear, “What are you,” she gasped clutching her heart, “You are no avatar, and yet…Elithis’ favor surrounds you. Why?”

“Why wouldn’t it,” Reviled chuckled as it leaned over the witch, “What kind of mother would withhold her favor from her child.”

“Master, please, you’re scaring her,” Meridith said turning to the woman, “Would you be kind enough to teach me your craft?”

The woman’s glassy eyes flicked between Meridith and Reviled, and she swallowed hard, “Of course,” she laughed nervously, “I’d be a fool to turn down the servant of someone so…powerful.”

“Congratulations,” Reviled placed a caring hand on Meridith’s shoulder.

“Thank you,”

Halligan shifted the black velvet mask so that it felt more comfortable on his face. He wasn’t used to wearing such rich clothing, nor was he used to the suffocating green ascot around his neck. Elizar sat across from him wearing ornate dark blue and silver robes with a high collar cape. His silver owl mask adorned his face. The silence weighed heavily on Halligan.

“How come no one told me the Deckers were criminals?” Halligan sighed.

“Please understand, the Deckers have been a pillar of Jericho for decades,” Elizar said fixing his cuffs, “Their support has been instrumental to keeping the city running, especially during this time of war.”

“But…”

“Sir Halligan,” Elizar snapped, “Right now, we need to focus on this mission. It’s important that we find something that connects the Deckers to Sir Maelon’s murder. Afterwords, you can discuss with the Duke the morality of his actions.” Halligan nodded.

The carriage came to a stop, and the footman opened the door. They stood outside the theater. The light shining from the windows made it look like a majestic palace, which was enhanced by the richly dressed individuals that entered it. The inside of the theater portrayed great wealth. Three golden chandeliers hung from the ceiling with candles lighting up the room. A thick, red velvet carpet ran along the floor to two double doors, and up the two sets of stairs to the second floor.

The patrons were scattered around the foyer, each wearing a mask, some full while others covered the eyes, that matched their outfits. The women playfully waved their fans as they engaged in small talk, while the men bellowed out fake laughs. A shrill ring of a bell quieted everyone down, and everyone looked at the elderly looking man standing on the second floor.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the man smiled at the gathered crowd, “Thank you all for coming tonight,” The crowd clapped then fell silent, “Tonight, I have procured an excellent selection for you all. Treasures that’ll make your collections the greatest in the city…if you can afford them,” Everyone chuckled. Halligan tried to ignore the gnawing itch coming from his gauntlet, “But before we start tonight’s events, I would like to thank tonight’s benefactor. The one who gathered these delectable items, Master Legion!”

A magical light shone revealing a box sitting on the third floor. Four individuals stood there looking down upon the gathered crowd. Three women waved down at the crowd. They each wore full masks that matched their dresses, and their hair was clearly enchanted with magic. At the center was a tall imposing figure in a long-hooded cloak. Despite the light shining on them, it was impossible to see the face hiding in the darkness. The only feature that could be seen were the piercing red eyes. The crowd enthusiastically cheered their hosts, but Halligan couldn’t take his eyes off tall figure and the woman in black with hair enchanted to look like fire.

“So, the rumors are true.”

“They must be the ones opposing the King”

“At least he keeps…fine company.”

Elizar scratched his chin, “Interesting, the cloaked figure is a powerful spell caster,”

“How can you tell?” Halligan focused his gaze to the two red eyes.

“The mana fueling their illusion magic is coming from him,” Elizar said, “And he’s shrouding himself in illusion magic too.”

“Can you sense necrotic mana?”

“He’s too far,” Elizar sighed, “At this distance, all I can see is the flow of mana.”

Halligan sighed, but then someone bumped into him. “Sorry,” he heard as a flash of golden hair flew past him. He quickly glanced at two women who disappeared into the crowd.

“Now then ladies and gentlemen,” the elderly host called, “Let the auction begin!”

The doors on the ground floor flew open, and four servants warmly gestured for the crowd to enter the main hall. Halligan rolled his shoulders as he followed the crowd inside.

Priscilla glared as the workers set up the next item on stage. It took two people to carry the large rectangular blade and set it properly onto the stand. A gorgeous woman stood next to the sword, running her hands sensually along the blade.

“Our next item is the monstrous cleaver, wielded by the hulking corpse ragers,” the auctioneer called out, “A terrifying abomination in the Wight King’s army. One of these monsters can destroy an entire battalion by itself, and it is said that it takes ten paladins to destroy one. We’ll start the bidding at six hundred gold.”

“625!”

“650!”

“750!”

Priscilla sneered as the people jumped to their feet to call out their bids. Even to her, the amounts being shouted boggled her mind. She bit the thumb of her glove to stop herself from berating everyone.

“Should we leave my lady,” her attendant glanced down at her.

“No Lana,” Priscilla took a calming breath before looking at the box on the second floor. Four people sat there watching the auction, “I want to speak with our illustrious host.”

Lana sighed, “Why couldn’t we leave this to Sir Halligan?” The auctioneer slammed his gavel onto the podium, and the stage workers changed out the item, an intricate war scythe with an obsidian black blade.

“Next, we have a war scythe from a pale rider,” the crowd excitedly murmured, “These ghostly Calvary soldiers have decimated thousands with these weapons. It’s said that they’re sharp enough to cut your very soul. We’re starting off at seven hundred.”

“Because…I'm tired of doing nothing,” Priscilla straightened her dress, “We should probably make a few bids so we can blend in.”

Lana nodded with a mischievous smile, “One thousand!” Priscilla stared dumbfounded at her maid.

“One thousand gold. Do I hear eleven hundred?” the auctioneer smiled, “Going once…going twice…”

“Eleven hundred!”

Priscilla sighed in relief before glaring at her servant, “What’s wrong with you!”

“You said we needed to make some bids,” Lana shrugged with a small smile, “Shouldn’t we make it look like we’re meaning to buy something.”

The scythe was removed for a full suit of black armor that belonged to a lich-knight. “Bidding to start at fifteen hundred!”

“Two thousand!” Lana raised her hand.

“Stop that!” Prisicilla growled.

“Two thousand-one hundred,” Prisicilla relaxed in her chair.

“You shouldn’t make such faces, my lady,” Lana said with a sly smile, “You’ll start developing wrinkles.”

“You keep making ridiculous bid!” Priscilla whispered, “What am I supposed to do if we actually win something?”

“Well, wouldn’t that get us closer to our goal,” Lana’s eyes glanced upward to the enchanted group.

“Do I hear twenty-three hundred?”

Priscilla stood up, “Three thousand!”

“Sold!”

Reviled chuckled as the bidding went on below them. The lich-knight’s armor had sold for three thousand gold. A sum that only a small number of the aristocracy could pay.

“Damn, she wanted that armor,” Oria laughed as the armor was taken off stage.

“Indeed,” Reviled’s gaze fell to the winners, “Be a dear, Oria, and have Wilfried set up a meeting with those two.”

“Sure thing, boss,”

Mina leaned over the side, “I can’t believe they’re willing to pay all that money for a few items,”

“Because my dear, they have more money than sense,” Reviled said petting her head, “That’s one of the reasons why we hosted this auction, and we’re quite pleased that it’s paying off.”

“But why not use this equipment on the undead,” Kogna said from the shadows. His hand never left his sword.

“We’ve tried, but the cursed gear sends them into a frenzy,” Reviled growled. The gavel rang signaling another item sold, “Without the Tome of Elithis, we won’t be able to properly use enhanced undead.” They sat in silence as several more items were sold.

“I estimate our income to be around fifteen thousand gold,” Meridith smiled, “A decent profit wouldn’t you say?” Oria slipped back into the box.

“The money is a bonus,” Reviled chuckled, “It’s what come later that we’re looking forward to.”

“Wilfried has a suite ready, boss,”

Reviled rose, “Then let’s go meet with our new friends,”

Oria led them down the hall to the back of the theater. Multiple rooms that acted as changing rooms for the thespians lined both sides, and an attendant stood outside of one. He opened the door for them. It was a simple room with two couches facing each other with a sitting table in between them.

“Your guests will be here shortly,” the attendant bowed before closing the door.

Reviled sat in the center with Meridith and Oria on either side. Kogna stood to the side of the couch closest to the door while Mina carried a tray over and kneeled at the table ready to pour drinks. There was a knock at the door, and two women wearing half masks entered shortly after. One wasn’t really a woman. The girl with golden hair in a bun couldn’t be more than thirteen, and from the way she stood, with her hand clasped in front of her with her back straight, was clearly nobility. The second woman followed the girl with her gaze held slightly downward. The girl adjusted her frilly white and rose-colored dress as she sat down as the servant stood side.

“Would you care for a drink, my lady?” Mina gestured to the tray on the table.

“No thank you,” the girl kept her eyes on Reviled, “I thank you for taking the time to meet me, master Legion,” she said with a quick bob of her head.

“We felt we had to, after that…passionate bid,” Reviled chuckled, “However, you have us at a disadvantage miss…”

“You may call me…Princess,”

Reviled nodded, “A fitting alias,” it said, “But we must admit, we weren’t expecting you to be so young.”

Princess huffed, “Does my age bother you?” she challenged with a glare.

“Yes, it does,” Reviled growled, “We are not on the best terms with the king of this city, and the last thing we need is for more attention to be drawn to us,” He turned to the warrior, “Please see to the lady’s safety.”

“Yes master,”

“You needn’t worry about my safety,” Princess said, but faint screams drew their attention to the door.

“Took them longer than expected,” Reviled said standing up, “The auction is under attack. I suggest you head to your carriage as soon as possible.”

“Who’s attacking?” Princess covered her mouth.

“Most likely Decker,” Reviled chuckled which caused Princess to look worried at him, “Don’t worry my dear, my guard’s skills rivals those of Solomon.”

Kogna bowed to the little girl, “My lady, please follow me,” Princess nodded, glancing at Reviled on last time before heading out.

“Things are starting to get interesting,” Reviled chuckled when the door closed.

“What do you mean?” Meridith sounded worried.

“You’re smart,” Reviled said rubbing her back, “When you take in all that we know of her, who do you think she is?”

Meridith tapped her mask, “From the bid, she must be nobility, or from an extremely wealthy family,” she said, “Most likely nobility from the alias, but I doubt she’s royalty. No, is she…the Duke’s daughter!”

“That’s what we believe,” Reviled stepped towards the door, “It’s time to leave.”

Reviled led the group down the halls to the theater’s backstage. Oria’s men were standing over a group of rough looking bodies in torn tunics with a bull and hammer on the shoulder. Upon seeing Reviled and the women, they followed as he reached the safe room. Wilfried was trying to quickly divvy up the coins they had collected from the auction into two bags.

Wilfried sighed in relief when he saw the group, “Thank Hallomarae,” he said turning back to the table, “I’m nearly done splitting the profits. Damn it, I didn’t think Decker would have Samon attack. He hasn’t been proactive lately, but I guess he’s getting desperate.”

“Understandable,” Reviled stepped behind Wilfried. Reviled’s tongue shot out and pierced Wilfried’s head. Before the body fell, Reviled decapitated the bookkeeper. “Take everything of value, and let’s get out of here.” It stuffed the head into a bag.

Priscilla followed the swordsman down the halls. He moved at a pace that was urgent but was easy for her to keep. They turned a corner and a thug stared at them down the hall. The ruffian charged at them, yelling with his club held high. Priscilla screamed and buried her face into Lana’s skirt. She heard a sword be drawn from it’s sheath, and the thug’s yells fell silent.

“My lady, we must keep going,” Priscilla opened her eyes. The thug lay on the ground with his head sitting a few feet from his body. Blood pulled and seeped into the carpet. The warrior sheathed his sword, “Come my lady. Stick close and keep to the right. We wouldn’t want your dress to get dirty.”

Priscilla nodded. The swordsman continued down the hall with his hand sitting ready on his hilt. The sounds of fighting and screams of terror were getting louder. They turned to the right, away from the chaos, and out a door that led them to the outside. Footmen and drivers ran around in terror as they tried to find their carriage.

“That one!” Lana pointed to a simple green painted carriage. The coachmen and footman waved them down. The footman threw the door open and helped Lana inside.

“Thank you,” Priscilla turned to the warrior.

She couldn’t see the warrior’s face, but his voice was gentle, “It was an honor to be your guard my lady,” Shouts drew their attention as ten thugs charged towards them. “Quickly, my lady, you must leave,” he pushed Priscilla inside, “I’ll deal with them.”

Before Priscilla could argue, the Warrior shut the door. The coachman cracked the reins and steered the horses away. Priscilla leaned out the window to look back on the Warrior. She had seen sword fighting before. She watched her brothers fight, she watched Sir Halligan fight, but their way with the sword couldn’t match the mysterious warrior. He glided through the fight, striking down each assailant with ease. It was beautiful, in a strange, disturbing way, and watching him fight made her chest tighten.

Halligan leaned against the wall panting heavily. Elizar fell to his knees and was leaning against the same wall. They could still hear the screams coming from the theater, and thankfully, the guards that were there were able to keep the attackers at bay. As they were running to the carriages, they had seen a masked warrior fight, and easily dispatch ten of the thugs that were trying to keep the carriages from fleeing. Unfortunately, theirs was nowhere to be found.

“I guess the rumors are true,” Elizar panted holding his chest, “Decker is at war with this Legion gang.”

“What do you mean?”

“Those thugs, they were wearing Blackhammer’s crest,” Elizar took a few deep breaths, “Strange though, they normally have it tattooed on their body, not stitched into their clothing.”

“Who’s Blackhammer?”

“He’s Decker’s enforcer. He normally is stationed in the slums, but sometimes he’ll hire out his men as mercenary guards. Still, Decker’s gone too far this time. There were many influential people at that auction, and they won’t take this lightly. We should get back to the castle and let magister Cromwell know about this.”

Reviled led its group through the sewers. The filthy tunnels would destroy the nice clothing that everyone was wearing, but that didn’t matter. Mak and Lyle, the strongest of Oria’s men, carried the bag containing the money they had made from the auction. Despite the fighting, everyone was in a great mood. A rat faced man with long greasy black hair leaned against the wall.

“How’d everything go?” Andren said.

“According to plan,” Reviled chuckled handing him a bag full of coins.

Andren opened the purse and counted the coins, “I’m glad to have been of service,” he gave a toothy smile, “Anything else you need, boss?”

Reviled handed Andren a piece of parchment and the bag containing Wilfried’s head, “Yes, we need you to get Samon to attack one of the rat camps here in the sewers.”