Chapter Four Hundred And Thirty Six – 436
Pit's words barely registered before the doorway of the chamber was thrown open, and a patch of swirling darkness shot out into the light.
"Stop them!" Klzix shouted, recoiling from the dagger in Felix's grip.
"No! Don't engage!" Felix flared his Agility and ripped across the dream pool, shattering the thick layer of ice behind him, but not before the guards tried to close with the dark cloud. To them it was no more than a shadow, but Felix could see the being's insanely swift moves as it wove through the Yttins' grasp. A thin, flexible blade slashed around them in a whirlwind of strikes that the guards had no defense against. They all fell in a spray of dark crimson blood.
The shadow took off.
No you dont! Thunderwing! Pit screeched, and blasted past Felix, streaming afterimages of crackling lightning. Mantle of Tumult! Howl at the Dark!
A ear-piercing cry filled the corridor, stabbing at Felixs toughened senses and it wasnt even aimed his way. The shadow, on the other hand, stumbled and crashed into an alcove filled with delicate pottery. Pit was on the assailant in an instant, a veritable storm coursing over his sleek Body while lightning spat from his wings and tail.
Hurricane Rasp! Black talons ripped through rug and stone, missing the dark assassin by inches. Their thin blade flashed upward, arcing toward Pits neck. He let it glance harmlessly off his Master Tier barding, and lunged for the kill.
Impenetrable Caul! the shadow croaked out, and a thick, bloody wrapping slashed across Pits face and helmet, binding to it.
Ahh! Pit reared back, clawing at his beak and eyes, and the assassin slipped from his grasp. In a fraction of a second they were up on their feet and running.
Until Felix tackled them through a wall.
They screamed and Felix growled, yet both of their voices were drowned out by the absolute clamor of falling masonry and shattering support beams. They hit the ground and rolled, pulverizing a couch and end table inside yet another parlor. Felix fetched back onto his feet only a breath before the assassin, which was plenty of time to marshal his Skills.
Adamant Discord!
Lightning stabbed between them, flashing back and forth like a strobe light, while the shadowy figure was wracked by painful seizures. Felixs Will clamped down atop them, a vice of Mind and Spirit, while his Body walked cautiously forward. The assassins own Body was still obscured by a misty sheath of shadow Mana, so tight and thick that nothing more than a vaguely humanoid shape could be made out. Even the lightning failed to illuminate it.
Who are you? Why are you here? Felix asked. "Your Agility and Dexterity seem to be really high, so you didn't miss me. You were aiming at the shaman. Why?" The shadow didnt answer. They only struggled harder against the riotous pain and Felixs indelible grasp.
Fine, be that way. Felix reached forward, and grabbed the figure by their neck. Chthonic Tribute.The original appearance of this chapter can be found at Ñøv€lß1n.
All at once, the shadow around the figure fled, sucked completely within Felix's channels. The shroud of darkness was ripped apart, revealing lacquered body armor and a half-mask that was entirely familiar. Eyes of milky white stared at him balefully, and their squared chin was thrust forward in challenge. Felix clicked his tongue. Sworn. You were right, Pit.
Of course I was, his Companion answered, picking his way across the rubble. His forepaws were crimson with vibrant Mana, and his helmet and beak were caked with hardened, fleshy strings. I know that cold steel smell.
The Sworn were an order of assassins for hire, though their job might not always be to kill. The only experience either Felix or Pit had with the order was Ilia, a Sworn assassin he'd faced off against. She had been formidable, but this one had very nearly outran Pit and himself. At their current, frankly overpowered level of advancement. If neither of them had been there, then this person could have killed any number of people under Felix's care.
What is your name, Sworn? he asked, and his grip loosed on their larynx. A little.
The Sworns mouth opened, but instead of teeth and tongue, their insides were just an utter void. A breath vibrated up through Felixs clasp, rattling out of the assassins dark craw like a corpses final scream. What came out wasnt a sound so much as a wave of pressure that squealed against Felixs senses. He jerked backward, his grip unmoved, but the Sworn wasnt done. The yowl ripped its void-filled mouth, tearing its cheeks and jaw like paper to reveal a greater darkness within. Fissures appeared, crazing their flesh and dark armor, as the dissonant tenor of its cry tore it apart.
Xavi slid down the flooded thoroughfare, his boots well and truly soaked. He was thankful that he still had his oilskin, though the wind had tried to snatch that from him a time or two as well. The cloak was all that kept his prize safe and dry, and without his prize Xavi knew he would not be believed.
Splashes sounded from further up the street, followed by curses and whoops as his fellow messengers ran their own missives to their masters. Unlike Xavi, they dashed through the moonless dark, seemingly careless of the rain and treacherous streets. Why are they so cavalier? Don't they know what they have?
Xavi had seen them all receive one, the same as him. The man that gave it to them was strange and terrifying, and said that they had to protect the prize, to make sure each and every one made it to their masters within the glass. Xavi hadn't questioned it; he feared being late, for what it might mean. For what the man might do to him.
So the messenger stuttered into a run again, his boots squishing unpleasantly with every step. At least he was close to his master's mansion, and in a few more heartbeats he'd reached the imposing gate. Xavi banged on its iron exterior, his fist aching from the exuberance of it. "Manny! Manny let me in!"
A small panel slid to the side with a metal-on-metal shriek. "Burning ashes! Who's knocking at my gate at this hour? Xavi? That you?"
"Yes, sir! It is! Can you let me in?"
Manny shook his head, and while Xavi couldn't see more than his eyes, he knew his thick, drooping mustache was wobbling with his head. "No no, can't do that. No one in or out after nightfall. Master's orders."
"Manny, sir, please! Tell the master that I have a missive for him. From the Autarch!" Xavi practically begged the guard, trying to say everything with just his wide, limpid eyes. It was a look that had often gotten him second helpings in the lesser kitchens, and sometimes worked to get him into place he shouldn't be. This, however, was not such a place. He needed to deliver the prize and he was running out of time. "Please!"
Manny groaned and rolled his eyes. "Fine, just stop with the avum eyes, ya manipulative bastard!" The gate clanked and squealed as Manny pulled it open enough for Xavi to squeeze through. "In ya git!"
"Thank you!" he shouted, bolting past Manny and into the servant's entrace of the mansion. Quick as a flash and not stopping to chat with the servants in the gathering hall, Xavi stripped off his oilskin and tossed it onto a wooden peg. He barely stopped to adjust the collar of his mussed up shirt, or to change his water-logged boots, and instead tracked a squishing trail of rainwater with every second step.
Eventually, he came to the outside of the dining chamber, where the sound of boisterous laughter and soft music filled the air. Two more liveried guards where there, dressed down but bearing their weapons. Xavi met their eyes and nodded. "Message for Master Rellest. From the Autarch," he repeated.
The guards traded a look and waved him through.
Inside the chamber were several dozen guests, all of them regulars to the master's parties. They were scions of the various noble and merchant Houses in Ahkestria, the cream of the crop and future ruling elite among the City of Embers. Or they had been, Xavi gathered, before the monster showed up and changed everything.
Xavi navigated his way through the crowd, moving swiftly until he came upon a long table bearing many ornate chairs. At the head of the table, engaged in a story he was telling, was Master Rellest.
"Sir? I have a missive, a gift, from the Autarch. Sir," Xavi said. He'd never said that much to the master before, not in his entire life, and he felt proud to have gotten through it so smoothly. He held up the prize, and found that his arms only trembled a little bit. "He sent me with this."
A hush fell over the crowd, and Master Rellest stared at Xavi's hands with the strangest expression. Almost as if he was afraid the thing was going to come to life and attack him. Which was ridiculous; there was no change his master was thinking such a far-fetched idea. The prize was a small sculpture of a muscular man with long limbs and strange claws, all fashioned by an unnerving magic. Xavi had seen the statues being created, one at a time, and couldn't believe how smooth the thing felt.
"The Autarch made this himself. II don't know how," Xavi admitted into the quiet. He'd never felt comfortable with long silences. He lifted the statuette and showed his master the large, round bottom of it, where words were inscribed. "It says, 'Dawn. Temple square. All are invited to the raising of your new Chancellor.'"
Xavi's Master went beet red as he heard the words, and a wrenching sound filled the air. The silver goblet in his hand dropped to the table, crumbled out of shape and leaking red wine like blood. "Sir?" Xavi asked.
"Assemble our people. All of House Rellest," his master said in response. Much to Xavi's surprise and worry, his master sounded...shaken. "The Autarch commands our presence at dawn. Be ready.
"All of you."
