Gordan's face is a mask of concentration, his earlier relief a distant memory. We've all retreated from the secondary gates – the site of the massacre – back into one of the twisting side streets of the Lows. Upon recognizing him Karr seemed glad to surrender decision-making to the duke's son – especially when Gordan instructed us to retreat to this alley – and is now waiting with the other soldiers for orders. I'm fairly certain the man noticed me as well, but he has been studiously ignoring my presence. Distantly I can feel flares of demonic energy as Pink works to “handle” the problems plaguing this city.

I've tagged along with these humans because, well, it's not like I have anywhere else to be.

That's not true actually, I can think of many better uses for my time – but none that don't involve some degree of work, so I'm content to let myself be escorted. Until Gordan gets himself killed – like that other fool, Nicks? – he will serve adequately as a guide. Emily has failed to pull herself together to any appreciable degree, wandering around with empty eyes in our wake, but she's stopped vomiting so that's something. It seems contact with the corruption is quite traumatizing, even for creatures who cannot properly feel its presence, vaguely I remember the first humans I met had similar trauma. Annoying, but not currently a priority – whatever she may think the fool girl is not in any particular danger here, except maybe from me…

Lightly I shake my head, to clear away that thought. The girl – Emily – is properly channeling demonic energy now, just by existing in her current state, so she has value enough to be left alive in spite of her ungratefulness. Looking at her – beautiful and powerful in the moonlight – I can't help but think that maybe she is the most proper demon of any of my little entourage. To secure a sliver of my power and my blessing, then using her own intrinsic value as leverage to attempt to escape my service…

Demon's don't feel things like gratitude after all. If she were a bit more aware, I might credit her as a masterful manipulator. As it is, just an unwitting master manipulator.

“…I think it's best if we make for the Legion Headquarters, in the Military Ward. Regis was stationed there, and he will have the experts necessary for dealing with a Knight Class on hand. If not, we can use their distantword Runes to contact father. It will be faster than trying to chase down some of father's Elites, or the Mithril Rank adventurers that would be needed to end such a monster, amid all this chaos.” Gordan speaks, apparently having reached a conclusion. The faces of the humans around him have gone pale at his words, in Karr's case especially – I can smell a stink of fear.

“M-milord, in order to reach Headquarters – we have to follow almost directly in the monster's footsteps, past the Temple of Kirn. Please reconsider!” Karr says.

“What would you have us do instead? Attempt to navigate the maze of the Lows – at night – with the knowledge that your monster could turn and descend upon us at any time? Just wander the streets in hopes of finding someone with the power to put the thing down?” Gordan asks angrily. “No. We are Imperial soldiers, we do not falter in the face of the Unbound.”

Karr looks scared. Licking his lips nervously – his eyes scan across the other humans, who seem to have found their spines and only return expressions of grim resolve – before resting his gaze on me.

“W-what about her? She's strong right? Tenth circle – Nox was saying – could she not handle it?” Karr asks – directing his question at Gordan and ignoring me entirely. Gordan frowns in response, then turns a curious gaze to me.

“I'd not thought to impose on you Lady Alexandria but I suppose I should ask – would you be willing to deal with the Knight Class?” He asks seriously, his eyes not betraying any particular hope.

“What is a 'Knight Class'?” I respond – equally seriously. Something I've been slightly curious about for some time now. Gordan looks momentarily surprised, before quickly recovering and answering my question.

“Knight Class is one of the ranks of Unbound used by the Adventurer's Guild – to gauge their relative strength. There are five classes in total, Serf, Knight, Bishop, King, and Emperor in order of ascending power. Conventional wisdom dictates that to face a Knight Class Unbound a mage of at least the fifth circle – along with a party of powerful warriors – is required. Only exceptional personages would have a hope of handling such a monster alone – the Hero or probably any member of Aurora's High Chorus could do it.

“Specifically Knight Class refers to Unbound with many times the physical power of a man – but with little or no magical ability – creatures that rely entirely on brute strength and natural weapons. You can say that they are the easiest foes above the Serf class – for which generally even unskilled warriors are capable of handling to some degree, with weight of numbers if nothing else – but that is deceptive. Only by being extremely dangerous to humanity are monsters that rely purely on strength classified as 'Knight' – since most monsters could be described that way. It's just that next to an Unbound that can cast magic on top of its monstrous strength – they are comparatively weaker – thus they are the 'weaker' classification.

“But as you saw, a single Knight Class is a match for a hundred Imperial soldiers easily. Hopefully the men at the checkpoint managed to wound the beast …but I wouldn't count on it. The Unbound we've faced tonight have been stronger, more vicious, and smarter than they ought to be. I don't know the cause, only that it stinks of something foul.” He concludes his little explanation with a tone of dark foreboding.

“Ain't supposed to be no Knight Class in Shadfer though.” Karr suddenly pipes in, glaring suspiciously at Gordan. “Cores of Knight Class and above are supposed to be shipped to Highmont immediately after acquisition. Even if I'm Fourth Legion I know that much. So why the hells do we have one in the city?”

Gordan just shakes his head slowly in response. “I've no answer for you solider, its been weeks since the last Core of a Knight Class passed behind our walls – and as you say it should have been long gone by now.”

“Interesting. For you humans to go so far with your classifications – it's slightly ingenious.” I cut off their speculations on the creatures origins. “Hmm. Well? What say you Emily? Will you handle it for them?” I ask the girl casually.

At being addressed, her eyes sharpen, her wandering gaze focusing on me in an instant. Those eyes reflect emotions of pure terror – or indigestion maybe, hard to say for sure – and she nervously shakes her head from side to side, never fully breaking off her wide-eyed stare. Apparently she's lucid enough to follow the conversation around her, that's a plus I suppose.

“N-no! I cannot. I've told you. I won't.” Her words are easily comprehensible as well. Shrugging I turn away from her and back to my human escort.

“As you can see it seems to be impossible.” I pause, a slight frown creasing my brow as I consider my next words. “It seems Emily is having some difficulties, I'm not sure I fully understand – but her usefulness in a battle is likely nil. I've no other servants to call on, so you humans will be unfortunately on your own it seems.”

Well. I could probably devise some method to recall Pink if the situation warranted it, but she's busy with her own tasks right now. At my explanation a series of incomprehensible expressions flash across Gordan's face – a general feeling of unhappiness is conveyed – until he settles back into his neutral 'Lord's Face' all members of nobility practice so gleefully.

“I see. That is indeed …unfortunate. I've heard that for many conscripts the first encounter with the Unbound will steal the fire from their bellies and unman even the bravest recruits – typically it is something they are able to overcome though.” He turns an unreadable expression onto Emily. “The ladies' recent experiences must have been quite extreme – perhaps when this is done you should have her visit the Temple, the men of the cloth are practiced in healing wounds of both the body and mind.

For tonight though, it seems we will have to manage on our own.”

“Yes!” Emily's face comes alive. “Just… just return me to the Temple. Father Keller will take me back …even like this… if he would spend fifteen years caring for a cripple – he'll take me back …even if I'm a freak…” Her voice is thick and low by the end, the momentary burst of happiness absent entirely.

“I think, you will find it hard to return to the life you had before today milady. Truthfully though that matter is neither here nor there, I am focusing on salvaging as much as I can from this situation – protecting Shadfer – and living to see tomorrow, as are all loyal citizens of the Imperium. Most of whom are not possessed of your protections I hope you'll remember. If you are unwilling or unable to assist me with doing my duty as an Imperial citizen, at least spare me your hysterics.” Gordan's expression is hard – almost unkind – as he responds to her outburst.

In fact all the humans are regarding Emily with some species of contempt at her desire for home. Understandable maybe, they have much heavier issues on their minds right now – little time for the girl – but I think they're overdoing it truth be told. Eventually Pink will deal with the troublesome Unbound in the city, I've given the order after all – it's now just a matter of time. So what harm in indulging my foolish servant? In truth I care little what she does – so long as she stays alive. Her pathetic state does reflect somewhat poorly on me but I care little for the opinions of the humans or the doves by this point – and less with each new thing I learn about them.

They have been unimpressive to an almost staggering degree, having weathered what is likely the most powerful magic the idiot doves can bring to bear – I can say that with confidence. It's as if they haven't been advancing their magical knowledge at all in the massive intervening span of time since I last saw them – they are weaker if anything. It's mysterious, doves should be possessed of a similar lifespan to my own, so their apparent decline is …confusing. The humans as well, though I am reserving judgment somewhat until I have a greater grasp of their powers – that they seem to struggle so mightily against tiny flecks of corruption of the sort I can sense all around is …telling. No need to show them much consideration or have any particular regard for their views of me, in short.

“Milord …while that girl seems unwilling, could you not persuade…” Karr's voice trails off and he sends a meaningful look at me.

“The Lady has made her position clear.” The younger Clearwater waves him off. “Her presence or absence makes no difference to what we must do – as soldiers of the Legion we have a duty to the citizens. A duty to not let an unchecked Knight Class Unbound rampage through the homes of our most prominent citizens and we will see it fulfilled.” Or die trying. Those words hang in the air unsaid behind the young man's proclamation.

“B-but as the son of Duke Clearwater, surely you can invoke your Right of Conscription? It was specifically designed for times exactly like this was it not? Milord?” Karr persists.

“N-no… you can't…” Emily's protest is a whisper.

Ignoring her entirely Gordan just shakes his head. “The Lady is not an Imperial citizen, the Right does not apply. Cease your nonsensical babbling man. Time is of the essence, we must set out, Tiller, Frye are you both ready?”

“Aye.”

“...Aye.”

The two men heft their heavy tower shields, spears held at ready at their sides. Gordan as well unlimbers his kite shield and long sword, before turning an expectant gaze on Karr. The man hesitates for another long moment, but eventually picks up his pollaxe and takes his place at the front of the formation, alongside the other two armored men. It's a terrible formation honestly, with the comparatively lightly armored Gordan – he's wearing armor of studded leather – behind the three men wielding weapons with much longer range. Perks of leadership I suppose.

I turn my gaze back to Emily, who has settled herself on a pile of stone rubble, meeting her eyes fiercely and pointing in the direction the humans have begin moving – back towards the second gate. Understanding my intent, she just weakly shakes her head, her fingers grasping and tracing absent patterns on the stone below her. Her eyes filled with indeterminable dread.

“Just get moving, fool.” A dangerous growl escapes me. “You needn't fight anything but I won't permit you to just sit there waiting for death.”

Some promise of the terrible death I'm more and more seriously considering visiting upon her must have slipped into my words because she clambers slowly to her feet, turns a brief sad and defeated gaze to me, then moves to follow the humans. I care little what she does or what people think of her – but that doesn't mean I can tolerate disobedience.

We head up and through the gate without incident, finally returning to the Uppers. It is …changed. Altered, since I last saw it, by the familiar hand of violence. That hand leaves the same trails wherever it passes, no matter the time or place – here in the dirty streets of some irrelevant human city, or back home among the wondrous magical constructions of my people – the results are always the same. The old familiar scenery. Things and people broken, twisted, marred beyond recognition or functionality by that old and familiar hand.

A sigh escapes me as our trek takes us through these formerly pristine streets, despoiled by the Unbound. Our path – marked by a trail of slime and rubble – is littered with the dead. Men, women, children, human and beastkin alike, none were spared the biological javelins of the “Knight Class” Unbound. They died like insects beneath a collectors pin, despite the apparent state of readiness the weapons most of them carried implies. Those weapons are still sheathed as often as not, their owners dead without time to draw. Our procession is silent as we walk among the corpses so fresh they're souls must surely still linger – none of the humans dare speak, or even breathe.

At my side Emily keeps pace, her eyes wide and leaking silent tears. The humans are shaken as well, pale faces grim and fearful in the flickering torchlight.

Eventually we come to a halt, ahead of us lies a huge patch of blacker darkness, only the corner nearest to us illuminated by the feeble light cast by the human's torches. It's that temple, the name escapes me, but I remember seeing it this morning – though that feels long ago by this point. The slime trail continues parallel to the huge building, disappearing into the darkness, and so do the spears – thrust seemingly at random into the glossy black stone that makes up the buildings outer wall – hundreds of the things embedded into the buildings flank. A pity, the beautiful stonework is completely ruined – defaced by thousands of spiderweb cracks.

The trail of bodies continues as well, no longer only the well dressed residents of the Upper district, now the simple robed figures that frequented the temple are mixed in as well – whatever protections offered by their God clearly insufficient. All of these bodies are armed and rotting in the slime, clearly they were not taken unawares – instead they went forth to meet their opponent, little good their foreknowledge did them – I wonder what could have compelled the weaklings forward to die in droves like this? Here and there are a few of Clearwater's Imperial soldiers as well – more fools who took part in some desperate and doomed offensive.

“The Legion Headquarters is just beyond the Temple of Krin. On the opposite side of The Grove – the small park the sits before the Temple gates.” Gordan's voice is clipped and strained.

“Milord, we must turn back! This is suicide!” Karr responds in a hushed and urgent tone, his eyes darting between his Lord and the darkness the slime trail disappears into.

The other two humans are stoic but I think I sense agreement in their postures – huddled as they are in their armor, spears clutched in a white-knuckle grip. Emily has ceased her crying – which is good – but has now lapsed into staring up at the huge temple while her mouth moves wordlessly and unceasingly as if in prayer. Idly I stretch my arms above my head, using the unfamiliar motion to distract me a bit with the novelty of the sensation, my back stretching and popping – helping me to ignore the relatively large sensation of corruption that permeates the air around this temple.

“No. If Headquarters is caught unawares by a Knight Class the consequences could be terrible, the coordination of the Legion cannot be jeopardized in the midst of a full deployment. The organization of the sweep of the city is being directed from Headquarters, without them our men will not know where they need point their swords.

“And it's where many of our records are stored. Plans we've drawn up, the results of years of painstaking effort. Even the conscription roll… If Headquarters is threatened, our duty is clear.” Gordan says, a bit of steel creeping into his tone.

“Ser, pardon my impudence, but what can we do? Even if the Knight Class is attackin' headquarters as we speak, there's nothing the four of us can hope to accomplish against it – just look around us!” Karr presses on gesturing to the rapidly decaying corpses all around.

“We do our duty, solider.” Gordan rumbles. “And we hope the Knight Class is not attacking headquarters, then our only role will be to raise the alarm. It's possible they are unaware of the danger because the beast has picked off their patrols. Now get moving.”

Saying so the slim young man stalks forward, following alongside the trail of slime toward the front of the large temple. Karr looks around, eyes desperate, but finds no one willing to meet his gaze. We've all already began moving again, following the young lord. He hesitates, as he reaches the corner of the huge temple, looking warily down at the trail of slime that continues around the bend for a breif moment. Then he steps forward boldly.

Nothing happens. The group cautiously follows him, until we are all inspecting the front of the temple. And the end of the trail of slime. One of the two heavy stone doors has been forced open, and the slime trail disappears inside. The other door is still barred and shut, faint magic hanging about it almost invisible to my senses – the purpose of the magic unclear, too weak to contribute to the doors' hardiness to any appreciable degree I judge.

Before the doors, in the courtyard my memories from just this morning paint as a very peaceful place, are more bodies. A lot more. Almost entirely garbed in brown robes, though some in white, some blue, even some Imperial soldiers – but mostly brown robed, unarmored, men and women. Weapons of all sorts litter the ground, swords and spears, polearms and halberds, military crossbows and short hunting bows, magical staves and wands – but only one weapon has found any degree of success on this battlefield. The slim and deadly two meter spears oozing their foul corruption that cover practically every inch of the scene.

And everywhere, all around and in front of the temple doors for over a hundred feet, is the thick and viscous purple sludge we've been following all this time – spread over the dirt like some foul carpet. The statue of black stone I'd seen earlier – the forge – is cracked and crushed to rubble, as if something very heavy had sat atop it – and then skewered the remains with a dozen spears for good measure.

“No…” A whisper from my elbow.

This time all the humans look sick, struck speechless at the sight. I hear someone making a choked emotional noise, someone else suppressing a sob. We stand there for a moment, in the shadow of death, surrounded by the choking presence of corruption, silent. Not a contemplative silence, or a respectful silence, but the silence men make when words fail them – when all they know of the world is crumbling beneath their feet.

I cough. Loudly. Trying to shake the fools from their stupor.

“They would have had fifth circle mages with them, hells I've heard one of the priests is seventh circle – nearly cracked eighth.” Karr speaks, the voice of a man in a bad dream.

“Mayhap, their mages were away – deployed within the city somewhere.” A voice offers, one of the mostly silent humans. Not sounding convinced even as he offers the words.

“Don't be ridiculous, the Forgemaster would never leave the Temple completely helpless. And he wouldn't try to fight a Knight Class without his mages. He has his flock to tend to, and the orphans… Gods…” Karr's eyes widen as he looks at the black maw that is the open temple door.

“Enough.” Gordan cuts him off. “The Forgemaster would have evacuated the noncombatants before committing to something like this, Strickland is no fool. More importantly …The Grove is untouched, that means we have a clear path to Legion Headquarters. We need only cross The Grove and contact Regis, he will have men at hand capable of dealing with the Knight Class. It seems to have holed up in the temple for now, this is our chance to summon someone capable of putting it down – perhaps Ironside could be recalled even.”

“But there could be people in there!” Emily seems to have snapped from her reverie to rejoin the conversation and is sending an anguished glare at Gordan.

“Strickland will have evacuated the temple.” Gordan retorts sharply, not quite meeting the girl's eyes. “This could be our only opportunity, we know the thing is inside because its trail does not leave the courtyard and we know it did not retrace its steps – confirming its location is the most our group can hope to do against such a beast. The knowledge is valuable. And we must not throw our lives away and lose that knowledge based on a 'could be'.” Gordan speaks rapidly, as if convincing himself.

“What?!” Emily screeches. “What?! Those are Imperial citizens you're talking about – what happened to all your words about 'duty', you coward? Or do the ashborn simply not factor into your noble machinations?!” As she speaks she draws herself up, her wing extending behind her, yellow eyes flashing dangerously in the low light.

“My duty is to all the people of Shadfer – all the people of The Imperium – not just to the small handful who may or may not even be inside that temple. There is nothing more I can do here, save throw my life away for naught, so I will be proceeding to-” There is a whistle in the air and peripherally I see a flash, black on black in the night.

I cut Gordan off, stepping forward between him and the girl – pinching a black feather out of the air an inch from his eyes. An unfocused blast of magic scatters the rest of the volley, depositing a half dozen black feathers into the purple sludge behind Emily – where they sit, unharmed. The work done I round on the fool girl, smiling into her confused face, her black feather still in hand.

“Seems you've a bit of bloodthrist about you after all girl. That's fine. Good even. Valuable trait in any demon. But.

“Currently I have an accord with the Duke, forbidding violence against the people of Shadfer. You are mine, thus you also have that same accord. It's good that you seem to have rediscovered your taste for violence – that is something indispensable – but…” I narrow my eyes, dropping my voice into an icy register. “The next time you attempt to make a liar of me, I'll kill you myself.”

Saying so I reach up and gently weave the feather into her pretty blonde hair, returning it to its owner. As soon as I remove my hand she takes a stumbling half-step backward, nodding dumbly.

“I didn't mean to…” Her voice is weak, confused.

Mean to what? I wonder, watching her appraisingly. To make a liar of me? To use your new innate magical ability? To attack the idiot human? All of those? None of them? As the last of those questions finishes running through my head I realize I really don't actually care at all. And I turn away from the idiot girl to examine the idiot human, who doesn't realize how close he was to death just now – if his expression of general incomprehension is any indication.

“Ah…” Meeting my eyes seems to overwhelm him. “Um… er… thank you? I mean. Well.”

“Begone.” I command.

“…What?” That seems to perk him up a bit.

“Go, do whatever it is you intend to do – I will manage the rest of the trip to the manor on my own.” My glare is slightly frosty.

“The manor? Ah!” A pained expression crosses the man's face. “I'm sorry, milady, the urgency of the situation overcame my judgment – I forgot myself.” He crones with contrition.

I wave him off, making a shooing motion with my hand. “Just go human, clearly you have more important things demanding your attention.”

“My lady, if I have offended you, I apologize! Please ju-” The weight of my glare silences the irritating human halfway through his apology, or confession of love, or whatever it was he was doing. His breath catching in his throat, chest hitching as he struggles to meet my eyes – which are now conveying a bit of the fury I'm feeling – effectively silences him.

Indifferent, I turn away. My eyes settle on Emily, still wearing a slightly disbelieving expression, as if unsure of what she's done, or can do. I snap my fingers and a jolt of magical power ignites in the conduit between us, the heat of my magic connecting us briefly – a reminder. When she feels it her eyes dart around wildly for a moment, before meeting mine. I hold her gaze for a moment, then turn and step into the sludge – on top of the sludge actually, with a bit of magic.

“Follow me if you like girl. Or don't. The choice is yours.” I call back to her.

With slow, easy steps I approach the open door of the temple. After a long moment, Emily falls into step behind me, getting her boots and probably the hem of her robe dirty as she walks straight into the ooze, each step making a squelching sound. I can feel a smile forming at my lips. Whatever the humans do is no concern of mine, there is something for me here in this temple – so while following the humans around was …an experience – I now have somewhere else to be.