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“What did he say to you?”
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“Nothin much really.” Mort answered the masked man before him, not sure whether to trust him or not. “He was asking if there’d been any children around. I’d say he’s lookin for a kid.”
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The Musketeer turned to him, “A child?”
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“Not much else he said. Just ordered a drink and sat there.” the bartender continued.
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The Musketeer was silent for a few moments.
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“And in all honesty, he’s a ghost sure, but he seemed a decent man.”
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The masked soldier turned back to him, stating, “Do not speak a word of this, to anybody. I have work to do.
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“Your tastes in wine never seem to waver, your highness. Even now, you surprise me.” Aleric mused, as he sipped the glass of wine.
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“I should hope to.” The king stated, nonchalantly, “With your extensive experiences in mind.”
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Noticing his tone, the Earl asked, “Something troubles you, my liege?”
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The king sighed, the warm glow of the fireplace between the two illuminating his plagued face. Not plagued in the flesh or the blood, but a plague of the mind. The pressures of his status take their toll upon him, and now, more than ever.
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“This plague draws nearer by the day. And we sit, and enjoy wine. Just as we always have.”
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“A rather grim take on things, if I must say.” Aleric replied, “When times of strife draw near, I make it my policy to enjoy what life remains for me. As it may end in a matter of months, when such times as this do scourge us. A final pleasure, before they become so horribly scarce.”
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“And how many of such times have you witnessed?” The King asked.
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Aleric looked to him, “More than I should like.”
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“I believe my friend, we are on the cusp of such days. Days of umbral sorrow. Days we may not see the end of.” The younger man stated, as he took another sip from his wine.
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“On that, we agree.”
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Both were silent for a few moments.
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“You mentioned at court yesterday the ‘Scholars of Mortem’. Tell me of them.” The King mused.
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Aleric sighed, “Did your father, or mother, or anybody really, ever tell you of the Lich?”
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“The Lich? A story they tell to keep children awake in the small hours.”
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“‘Stay out of trouble, or the Lich will make you one of her bone soldiers’.” Aleric stated jokingly, as the two shared a quick laugh.
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“But what would a child’s tale have to do with this matter?” The ruler asked, quizzically.
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“What if I were to tell you, it was not all lies?”
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The younger man looked towards his elder, in slight confusion.
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“When I was a boy, there were rumours, tales of a dark queen in the east. Every so often, in the small hours, we’d see dark figures lurking about the night, digging up corpses, and dragging them away. Dragging them east.” Aleric reminisced grimly.
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“Go on…”
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“One day, an army marched through my homeland. They called themselves ‘Crusaders’, seeking to spread the ways of Isrein. They marched east, and were not heard from for several days. On the dawn of the third day, we saw bodies flowing west down the river. Hundreds of them, clad in crusaders armour.”
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There was a long silence.
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“The sightings ended after that.”
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“And these, Scholars of Mortem?”
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“Ah, yes. In my early adulthood, I made a pilgrimage to the east, on the same road the crusaders marched. Until at last I came upon it: a massive temple of red sandstone, carved into the river bank, and riddled with armoured bones. I found records inside. Tomes. Written by the Lich Queen herself. She was taking notes, observing the progression… …of her four apprentices.”
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“Then these four are the scholars.” the intrigued king responded, making the connection.
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“I believe that whomsoever leads these Rott-kin, may very well be one of these apprentices.” Aleric stated, explaining his theory.
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“If what you say is true,” the King began, “Then we truly are in strife.”
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The two raised their glasses, and finished off their wine.
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“Tell me why.” Letifer uttered from his cracked lips,
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“What?” Halyenne asked, looking up from the tome in her hands.
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“Why you brought me here. Why he had you bring me here.” Letifer Explained.
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Hallyenne closed her readings.
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“You are hunted by our foes. So too, are you hunted by us. We merely have different intentions.” She answered.
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“So I’m a prisoner?” Letifer asked, not changing his tone.
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“A guest, we’d prefer not to leave.”
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Wordlessly, Letifer stood from the crate upon which he reposed, and walked aimlessly towards the shelves of wine. There in the glass of the bottles, he could see a distorted reflection of himself. It was the first time he’d seen it, since he fell. And it shook him to the core.
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He appeared barely human, pale skin stretched over a skull. In his cheek was a large ovalesque wound, like a scalpel through a bat’s wing, and upon his nose was no flesh, only the bare bone. And his eyes, they shook him. For he had none of the conventional sort. It was as though there were a shadowy veil over his eye sockets, concealing their true emptiness.
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He simply stood there. For nearly an hour he stared into his own reflection. And with new, grim resolve, he moved determinedly towards his blade, which sat upon a keg.
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“I can’t stay here.” He stated, as he slid the blade into his belt.
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“My lord?” Halyenne asked, as she stood to stride towards him.
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“I must find my son. I’ve already waited too long.” Letifer continued.
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As he began to start towards the door, the Earl’s voice rang in his ears, “I’m afraid that will not be the case.”
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He turned to Hallyenne, and passed her a rolled note, muttering to her, “Your new assignment.” At this, she quickly made her way out of the cellar.
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The ageing man strode to the table that had been placed central of the cellar, and pinned to it with an ornate knife, a sheet of paper. Letifer made his way to the table, and saw that it was a poster. Upon it was none other than the sketched remains of his face, captioned, “The Phantom of Belfennse.” it listed a reward of thirty gold pieces.
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“Every man, woman, and child west of Belfennse would have your head. I don’t suggest poking it out.” The Earl explained.
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Letifer stopped his movements, as he unsheathed his blade, and lay it upon the keg. Sitting down, he asked, “Why did you bring me here, my lord?”
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