Joseph nodded to Ralf and moved the chair back. After he left the danger zone, the only people at the table were ‘Firelight’-s, and the current mood in the tavern did not promise flowers and pastries, unless these pastries were drowned in spice.

“Coming to think of it…” the same heavy female voice dreamily stretched the words. “…I see no watchmen around in Ghastly Wail. What happened to them?”

The mercenaries kept their mouths shut.

“Yeah, that’s one shitty mood… where’s Daniel? He was there in the morning, and now there is only his girl at the bar,” another loud voice rang out above the crowd.

Joseph and Ralf looked at each other. The clicking of pistol hammers spread around the entirety of the first floor.

“I thought pirates were above petty squabbles,” the brown-haired mercenary finally spoke out. “Our leader pulled a prank over this man there, and his armsmaster is simply trying to get revenge by your hands. This conflict is worth less than a fly.”

“I never remember Mind Magic being acceptable even among pirates, friend.”

Ralf squinted his eyes.

“Or rather - especially among people like us.”

“Mind Magic?!” someone shouted from the crowd.

Ralf winked at Joseph. Joe understood.

“Yeah, the kind of Magic when your thoughts get all confused and you become more suspectable to coercion. Evalyn Hansen probably used her looks to add to the effect, but even then, I couldn’t utter even the simplest words without a lot of effort. Not to mention, she almost pulled everything I knew about the ‘Morning Star’. She got distracted before it happened, by George Firebreacher.”

The brown-haired mercenary chuckled.

“Listen to him! He got drunk off his rocker, and is blaming his idiocy on some woman, who is not even here.”

Joseph shrugged.

“The only alcohol I drank that day was the steam of the lake and the summer heat. George can attest to my words.”

The crowd grumbled at these words, more wary than convinced.

“Hey, Ralf… Can you trust the guy?” the arid sailor walked forward. Wrinkles webbed his timeworn skin and accentuated the withered white hair, reflecting the share of tragedy that befell the horned man across his lifetime. Joe had zero doubts about the experience that person must have had.

“Absolutely," Ralf laid out a mischievous grin. "Joseph is shit at lying, you would have heard it coming from the kilometres away.”

Joe’s words stuck in his throat. He turned his red face to Ralf, accompanied by the laughter behind him.

“Aye, I can see that,” the old arid crackled, as the heavy steps shook the wooden floor of the tavern. Someone huge and very heavy rapidly approached their theatre of stale comedy.

“What is going on here?!”

One familiar voice that was. Joe grinned and wondered - from the scale of one small spoon to diabetes, how did that night went for that person?

Ralf threw his arms to the sides, greeting two arriving scaly cats. Xander (and it was him) had Iliana clinging to his arm the entire way. The vexed quartermaster of the ‘Morning Star’ rammed right in between the crowd and stopped right near laughing Ralf.

“Zan, mate, you have arrived at the perfect time! I have so, so much to tell you!”

Without even giving Xander time to breathe, Ralf pulled the black rhevalian closer to himself and whispered some words into dragoncat's sharp ears. Joseph's sound radar decided that it was on a holiday and refused to let him understand even a single letter, leaving him no choice but to awkwardly depict a living prop, while catching imaginary needles with his back. Thank you, dozens of curious sailors!

Suddenly, Ralf released the fluffy shoulder and stormed towards the exit from the ‘Rattlebones’, shouting on the way.

“Joe, we’re moving!”

Joseph threw one last glance at the petrified Xander. The quartermaster stared back. Joe could only gift him a sorry smile, turn around and hurry after his friend. The parade of the confused stares saw him off before the door shut behind his back.

*****

Joseph quickly caught up with the armsmaster.

“What are we doing?”

“We are checking a few key locations. Karl’s headquarters and the towers,” Ralf explained, keeping the rapid pace. “I’d have interrogated them plenty, but I feel like they are stalling for time. If they are as silent as tombstones, they will turn into them soon enough. I relayed Xander everything he needs.”

“It didn’t seem like he even realised where he was.”

The giant man giggled.

“He’ll get over it. Time for him to start acting like the man he has become.”

They both chuckled.

Their duo crossed the square with the Deity. Joseph slowed down, taking in the features of the warrior on the pedestal. He felt like Kon’jar wanted to say something to him, but the statue remained silent and stoic like the clay it was created with. Still, thanks to that pause, he remembered something else.

Ralf stopped near the three-storey building. The solid, fired bricks demonstrated the conviction of the roman praetors, ready to protect the integrity of the imposing structure with their ageless lives.

Or, in non-purple, the structure was made out of red bricks.

That’s it.

That was all Joseph wanted to say.

The steel door led inside of the building. Presumably. The long, iron bolt held onto the frame around the door blocking the entryway right across, with the padlock supporting the obstacle in place for good measure.

Ralf tugged the padlock several times. The resolute guard found his attempts hilarious and remained in its place.

“Curses!” The giant man threw his arms up. “We are not getting in, and the windows are barred. Alright, tower it is.”

Ralf began to pace away. Joseph took a step forward, then his legs froze in place as the important detail poked him from the memory.

“Kid?" The armsmaster turned his head around and stared at the awkwardly looking young man. "What are you doing? Kid?”

Joe did a weird notion with his arms, as if he shooed away imaginary mosquitoes.

“Ralf… I…”

His handler raised an eyebrow.

“...Are you really a cannibal?”

The entire air reserve burst out from Ralf’s lungs.

“What?!! Joe, I was only kidding! It was just a joke to rile them up!”

Joseph pointed accusing finger at the frantically waving armsmaster.

“But you know what the human meat tastes like. I won’t judge, I just want to know…”

The Kon'jar statue would pass as a human being if it stood next to Ralf right now. The armsmaster jerked his fallen jaw back up and threw his arms up.

“...Is this really the time? It’s nothing special. We encountered the tribe of Imperial deserters, who indulged into the Domains of Vrigherqhuaihon to the unethical degree. Before we shot the last one, that human-resembling spawn told as, in agonising detail, every single sin they committed. How they liked it and savoured it. We burned him alive after that.”

Joseph dropped all of his suspicions in one long sigh.

“...I suppose he deserved that.”

“He very much did,” Ralf growled. “We should move, Joe.”

The programmer nodded. The image of last night combined with Ralf’s description shuddered his body. Would these mercenaries eat his if given the chance?…

The disgust that rose up was so intense, it would be enough for two and a half people to share.

Wait a second... The light in the house…

“Ralf, hold up!”

The cook turned around.

“What is the two-storey, grey brick house, up to the north-east, in the narrow passage, near the north tower, slightly to the east from it?!”

“There are a lot of them, kid. I can’t tell what you want if you don’t show me yourself. You know something?”

“I met Evalyn over there first. These five mercenaries stood there like they were guarding the place or, maybe, lived there.”

The armsmaster leaned on the nearest wall and rubbed his chin.

“What else have you seen?”

Joseph concentrated and recalled the details of the night. As soon as he told about the dark windows and the flash of light, Ralf pushed himself off the wall and straightened up.

“Not much to go on… but never to assume anything either. It wouldn’t hurt to check, I’m guessing. Well thought, kid. Let’s march over there in haste.”

“What about the tower?”

Ralf shook his head.

“The north tower is over that way anyway. Works for us.”

They emerged onto the busy streets of Ghastly Wail, just after the sun had walked by the south, expanding its ultimatum upon the west. The evening crawled closer and closer, and Ralf stormed forward faster and faster, seemingly racing against the red eye in the sky.

Joseph could understand his drive well enough. The night was the embodiment of Unknown. Most humans would be foolish enough to assume that the land they perceive underneath the cold light of urban illumination was everything that the dark could truly offer to them.

Wrong. To see the road underneath the street lights meant to see zilch of what the darkness beyond the observation of the Mind hid within its dirty alleyways.

Usually, nothing worth risking life and limb for.

The night would be the time he would deploy his evil plans, had he come up with any.

Or found any, like in this grey misery of a building. He never noticed it the first night, but the house made the fishing shack from before feel like a five-star hotel. The damp walls practically flowed down all on their own. One had to wonder - what kind of miracle insured that the windows remained in one piece even by this day?

Seeing Ralf hesitating made him nervous too. The armsmaster touched the wooden porch and jerked his arm away.

“It’s rotting… no, worse. It has rotted. Almost to the core. See the small brown bugs?”

The mentioned insects gathered on the handrails of the porch, none the wiser about the presence of two people. Joseph leaned closer.

“These beetles?”

“Indeed. They devour decaying wood. Look at their size and amount. They’ve been here for a very long time.”

“Then what… wait, that doesn’t make any sense. If this house is long abandoned…”

Ralf nodded. The grim visage promised Joe that their investigation would not be all roses and sweet perfume.

And he was proven to be correct, when Ralf kicked the door in and aimed his pistol at the entrance. The sickening odour of mould and dung trampled his senses, his composure suffered a lethal defeat as his body stumbled back. Joseph shut his eyes and shook his head. It didn’t help at all. He felt like the entirety of his flesh got dipped into a barrel of human waste, then tossed into the sewers for good measure.

A hefty arm hit him on the back a few times.

“Breathe, kid. To be honest, that caught me off-guard too. But I think you were on the right track, even if the stench would like to tell you otherwise.”

Ralf pointed at the web of footprints on the floor, where dust refused to settle again.

“People were here. For how long, no clue. You can use the mask, I am going in.”

Joe nodded, coughing a few times. The fresh evening air could replace the tastiest dessert at this very moment. He took a few deep breaths, clenched his fists and entered the building.

The sleeve to the nose, right after he crossed the threshold, became his only salvation. While his senses were getting used to the smell, there was no way he would be able to tolerate the stench for too long without straight-up vomiting.

The putrid wooden floor had no voice left in it. Joseph plodded forward, each step measured in placement and weight. Each move had its price in gold, as Joe remained absolutely confident that the floor would drown him, should he take the wrong path.

The only inhabitants of the house he saw were the spider webs and the ever-present dust. No furniture to speak about, no signs of living beings to take a note of. Besides fresh footsteps, of course, but other than that, the house could not shout louder about being abandoned for a long, long time.

Ralf stopped in the middle of the room.

“Kid, we need some fire. Give me a hand?”

The cook demonstrated two sticks. Joseph pulled out the requested tool.

“...Remind me to grab a fouder lantern the next time. I feel like it will not the last dump into another shady, dark corner of the land…” Ralf growled as Joseph pulled the trigger.

The lighter chased away the lurking shadows, giving them an island of tranquillity inside of the gruesome remains. It wasn’t hard for Joseph to imagine himself inside the belly of the beast - the feeling would be all the same. Same dampness, same darkness, same vile warmth.

Same emptiness.