The portrait was a disaster. Iago wasn’t certain who would have dared to even display it. The painter himself only. It had to be it. No one else could have found the mismatched eyes, crooked nose and puffy, bright rich lips even remotely beautiful. The Lady in the painting looked nothing less of a desperate ageing street whore.

“Anything there?” Mala asked.

“No!” he answered, taking off the painting and throwing it in the fireplace. There was no fire going but the next scavengers might burnt it without seeing the atrocity. A great thing for all involved.

Iago surveyed the rest of the room. It was a mess to say the least. Most of the furniture was broken, rich clothing strewn over the floor. Rich oils and perfume bottles had fallen off their shelves and broken on the fabrics, drenching them in dozens of smells. The majority had faded in time but a pungent mix near the vanity table remained to Iago’s dismay.

There was a small locket with Lady Beauty inside that he needed to retrieve. Closing his nose with the right hand, he waded into that cloud of smells. He snatched the chain from the table and dived outside.

It stank.

He held the object as far away from himself as he could, leaving the room in a hurry. Outside the threshold, he took out a charcoal and drew a black line on the wall. It should have been done on the door but there was none. Hard to tell too, whether from the Scourge or there hadn’t been one in the first place.

“Are we finished here?” he asked the elder man standing outside the house. There was a pile of treasures near his feet, all of them associated with the Lady.

The old man smiled at his approach. “Yes, Mala and Evic are in the last rooms. They should be out in a moment.”

Iago nodded, putting the locket with care among the paintings depicting Lady War and Lady Nature. Two faces, two sides of the empire - its ruling elite and the people that made their escapades a possibility.

“Will you help us put everything in the temple?” Mala asked coming out with a stack of books. Behind her was Evic with an even larger pile.

“I think I’ll take a rest,” Iago answered with a shake of his head. They all stared at him. It was an obvious lie but did they have to be so obvious with their silent accusations? “I have something to finish before the sun sets.”

There was disbelief in their gazes but they let it slide. Not once had he entered the temple after recovering the Lady’s statue and people were starting to notice. They wondered.

“Could you identify the books for us before you leave? I don’t want to carry them inside before ascertaining their identities.”

It couldn’t hurt. “Put them down.” He squatted down before the first pile and scanned the titles - ‘Prayers to the Lady’, ‘The Lady’s Benevolence’, ‘The Lady, her many faces, colours, robes, celebrations and everything else that you might need to become a world renowned priest’. The last one was of debatable quality but the rest were of perfect content, and well preserved. They were almost new, with only the dust to mar their surface.

The pile that Evic had brought out was different. Each book had seen a lot of handling and use, the priest that had resided in this house must have read them a hundred times over. Interested what would have caught the man’s attention so, he opened the first one.

‘The Lady’s Worship’. It was a title like any other other but something was wrong. There was a catch while opening the book, the pages weren’t aligned right. He checked the binding and there it was, the glued part.

Oh, no no no. He kept his laughter in check as he guessed what he would find within the pages. It didn’t take him long to become certain. This was no holy scripture. The priest had his interests in different kind of stories, more down to earth and human. Very human and very down to earth.

“Is something wrong?” Mala asked after his prolonged silence.

“Not at all,” he answered, trying his best to contain a grin. “But I suggest you put these somewhere a bit more private.”

“Why?”

“It’s a priest’s private collection. Should go to his successor rather than the masses.” During his perusal, more people had returned from their scavenging and nodded at his words with profound understanding, as if he had said something especially true.

It was a challenge to keep from laughing. He just hoped no one had lied about their inability to read. Otherwise it might become a bit awkward. Yet he couldn’t force himself to tell them to destroy the collection. The priest must have slaved for years to collect so many novels and figure out the best place to hide them.

He wondered for a moment how the priest had explained his sacrilege to himself but soon let the matter slide away. Every man had his own reasons. Maybe it was even a priest thing. He was certain it would be a great sport to see the priest successor’s face when he understood what more than half of the books passed onto him contained.

Iago grinned to no one, and stood up. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

They said their farewells and he left for his lonesome tower. It stood like a broken monument to some ancient forgotten god.

Inside he stopped in the middle of the ground floor, considering all the equipment. The moving dummies were so simple, he couldn’t remember the time they’d last been of use to him. It all felt so long ago. He picked a wooden stick he’d used to rectify Grey’s stance and fell into a familiar form.

The sequence flowed like a river through a familiar path. Not a single hitch as he defended, parried, and then took a step to attack. Each move fell into the next, then the one after and the following. In time he forgot to think and just let the familiar rhythm take control.

Hours passed until he got tired. Letting his limbs fall to his side, he took notice of the darkness streaming through the broken windows. The night had fallen and cold had come with it. He should have stopped ages ago.

Running up the steps to his room, he shut the door and wrapped himself in a blanket. It was just as cold. Shivering a touch, he moved to stand by the window.

The night was beautiful with the sky awash with light. Hundreds of stars returned his look, one going as far as blazing a path through the heavens. A blink and it was gone. He marvelled for a moment, then returned to his bed.

This corner was starting to become his most hated place in the whole city. No, that would be a lie. There was one house that was worse. Very much so, yet it was a distant memory. He could hardly recall the building or its halls. Only the feeling remained.

He shook the thoughts away and laid down. When the sun arose, a new day would come and he would be out once more, doing something. He wished for the sun to hurry up.

It felt like he had barely fallen asleep when a sound woke him up. He lay still, listening.

Breathing. Someone had entered his room in a rush. The newcomer was gulping air in lungfuls without trying to keep himself quiet.

Interesting. Iago shifted in his bed and turned to see Scorpius bent over his knees, face red. He tried to talk but the words were incomprehensible.

“Catch your breath,” Iago suggested, uncoiling the blanket off himself. The air was cool on his skin but not freezing. Throwing his legs off the bed, he sat with a weary look. “What happened?” he asked once Scorpius had calmed a little.

The nosferatu’s chest was still raising in quick succession but his face had regained its colour. “You need to help them!” Scorpius shouted out the moment he could. Eyes wide, he held the most terrified expression Iago had seen on him yet. “It’ll be over! You need to run! Hurry!”

He reached to tug Iago after him towards the window but the shaper waved his seeking hand off. “Explain first.”

“There’s no time! They need your help! Please, hurry! He’s going to kill them all!”

That caught Iago’s attention. He stood up, grabbing the shaking nosferatu’s shoulder. “Talk, “ he ordered in an icy voice. “What happened?”

Scorpius’ eyes danced around the place, then settled on Iago’s hand. He took a moment to collect his thoughts. “I was-- I was following Shea and the militia. They got lost in a sandstorm and I lost track of them-- There was so much sand! I couldn’t find them anywhere! I thought they’d died, had give--”

“Focus!”

The nosferatu jumped from the cutting voice, his eyes meeting Iago’s, growing wider, and then shifting away as fast as possible. His voice shook as he continued. “One of them is heavily injured but Commander, he doesn’t care! He ordered them to abandon Malek and gather the supplies to be carried back! Alec argued and was trashed! Commander punched and kicked him! Pummelled with his great sword!

“Denni and Grey tried to intervene but got hurt too! Shea told Commander to stop and was sent sprawling with a punch to her face! She didn’t get up and Commander just laughed! He laughed while making disgusting suggestions! I-- I didn’t know what to do! Should I have fought? Helped them?” Scorpius tore at his hair, eyes filled with such torment Iago had to close his own. “I was-- I was afraid… That man, he was laughing, laughing while beating them up and I knew he wasn’t using any of his strength! They broke like twigs under his touch! I should have helped them, should have dared to fight! But he looked like a demon… a nightmare come to life! I couldn’t have defeated him, he was too strong! It was--”

“You did the right thing,” Iago said in a calm voice. From an outsider’s point of view, he was almost proud of his own composure. The way his voice didn’t shake in fury, eyes snapping as he dashed away without a thought. All those actions would have solved nothing, but made him feel better. Something he could have greatly used at the moment.

His heart beat faster as he thought about Shea, Grey and Alec getting slaughtered but running off in a random direction wouldn’t help him. He needed a plan. It was hard to push through the worry and fear but he had to clear his head. Emotion had to be thrown out if he was going to salvage this atrocity.

“Right thing?” Scorpius asked quietly, looking up at him with such hope in his eyes, it was flattering as much as heart-wrenching.

“Yes, you came to me. I’ll take care of it. Now tell me, how far are they?”

“Not far, ten minutes.”

Iago couldn’t believe his ears. It was too close. Why were they fighting about the spoils in the city itself? Besides, shouldn’t they have been cleaned already? “Which direction?” he asked, throwing the cloak on and running down the stairs. Dashing off wasn’t smart but no other brilliant ideas popped up. He would have to come up with something when he got there.

Worst case scenario, he’ll kill Commander and then face Lady Cyana. She’ll be furious at him for having killed her favourite lapdog but knowing her, he could probably flatter himself into her good graces. That first introduction and her interest in him would serve well too.

But it would be better to avoid direct confrontation. He was still too weak to face her in case something went wrong and she thought to remove him. It would most likely spell his death.

No, he’ll have to think about it when the time arose. He hadn’t survived the Scourge to die without accomplishing his goal. It had to be done, no matter what. And for that he needed the population’s support. They were his key in ensuring her downfall.

Now just how to keep that population alive long enough. The damned Commander - and wasn’t it funny how he had instigated himself as such after all that he’d done - was intent on killing everyone. Or maiming them which led to the same end.

Scorpius shifted into a bat and led him through the silent streets, all caution forgotten. He ran after, not bothering to check if anyone saw them either.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. That Commander was a total moron. What did he expect to achieve by killing the last few subjects left alive? Who will collect his food and bring him comfort, build his house and protect from enemies while he lounged in Mistress’ shadow? Pure stupidity. Human lives were more precious than any gems or food in the current world.

And the bastard was intent on wasting them.

Iago increased his speed, wishing he could shift and fly off with his companion. He could see Scorpius’ impatience as he turned, circled to allow Iago time to catch up. But he was just human. He didn’t have any special powers to save the world.

Idiocy. How did he end up charged with such a task after what he’d done? His muscles strained as he pushed them harder and harder, ignoring the pains alighting in his body. He should have ran at a moderate speed, saved his energy for the long journey - it would take him much longer than the ten minutes of flight - but he couldn’t wait. What if they were being killed right this moment?

A second might be worth millions in this kind of situation. It was doubtful he would be able to help everyone, they might even all be dead by the time he arrived. Scorpius’ flight, their conversation and now the return path, it would be close to an hour after the events Scorpius had seen.

Would anyone still be there? He didn’t dare to consider the possibility. He had to hope they were still alive. That madman couldn’t be crazy enough to slaughter them all, could he?

He was banking on a madman’s sanity, just great. Just fucking great.

Minutes passed like snails in a competition. In winter. With the snails dead.

By the time the black manor came into view, Iago was exhausted both physically and mentally. He’d seen the militia dying dozens of different ways, murdered Commander a hundred times and been slaughtered by the Mistress in brilliant fashion. Everything had stopped feeling real.

On his way - the running had become a constant, something that just was - he appreciated the beauty of the towering building coming up at him. It was tall and majestic, but unlike the architecture in the capital, thin - no bulging round towers or wide-spread arches. The ones here were slim, pointed and most contained grim beasts watching with stone eyes.

A fitting place for a slaughter. The whole building seeped with grimness as if it was part of the bricks.

Scorpius rushed towards the building the moment it came into view and Iago slowed his pace. There would be no point in arriving out of breath, unable to lift a finger. His body thrummed with the exertion, each muscle an ache of its own. The vision blurred before him, but he shook it off, brushing the sweat from his forehead.

It was still early in the morning, the sun was yet to rise, but the land was growing warm. Not helping him whatsoever. He could have sold his soul for a glass of water.

The closer he got to the ominous building, the slower his pace became. Dread rose in a steady rhythm, like a wave mounting to drown him. He kept it at bay, for now. He needed to reach where the event had taken place.

Scorpius returned. He didn’t shift but made slow circles where he wanted Iago to go - an inner courtyard. Passing through a corridor, Iago could hear a boisterous voice up ahead. Loud, so very loud. He tried to make out the words but they were too slurred, incomprehensible.

Another ten steps and he left the darkness of the corridor to enter a dim courtyard. His eyes instantly settled on the huge man sitting on a crate with a jug in his hand. He took another swig, wine sloshing down his chin, armour and barfed. Then laughed. Tried to sing, failed and cackled.

Next to him, three jugs lay on the side, pieces of another scattered under his feet. Just as Iago watched, Tyr came from a shadowed corner bringing another jug. The kid hugged it to himself, eyeing the ground with absolute concentration.

Upon reaching Commander, he deposited the jug near the crate, quickly backing away. It wasn’t fast enough. Commander grabbed him, pushed his own jug to the boy, urging him to drink his fill. The jug was too large for the boy to use comfortably, Commander’s thrust upwards didn’t help, and the remaining wine washed over the boy’s head.

It splashed onto his hair, went down the face and soaked into the clothes. Commander burst out laughing, reached for the new jug Tyr had brought and brought it to his lips. Burped. Laughed.

Iago watched with growing unease, dread turning into disgust. He shifted his eyes away from the man and looked for others. They were huddled in a corner to the right of him, watching the proceedings with fever bright eyes. None of them wore their trademark heavy armour and were diminished because of it. Reminded Iago of just how really young they were.

He schooled his features into an emotionless mask before approaching the corner and its inhabitants. Alec had chosen to sit on the outer ring, a maze of bruises on his face. His nose was crooked, broken most likely, and the right eye was swelling. Soon he won’t be able to see through it.

Still, he squinted at Iago as he approached in a steady pace. His body tensed, hands reaching for the weapon at his feet before his left eye widened a fraction in recognition. “You…” he whispered in both accusation and relief.

Iago squatted down, examining the rest of the soldiers. Denni and Lyra were sitting with Shea. The two seemed undamaged but the girl between them had seen better days. Her lip was cut and there was a growing bruise on the left side of her face. She sat staring at her hands, unresponsive to the world.

What had put her in such a stupor? No, this was not the time.

Left of the girls Quir sat with hands wrapped around his knees. Tear streaks marred his face as he looked up to give Iago an empty stare.

The boy should have been playing Rebels or Pirates with his friends, not watching the people he imitated be beaten to a pulp, hide with them in a corner wondering when his turn would come. Quir’ eyes spoke volumes about disillusionment and hard truths. It broke Iago’s heart for he knew all about them.

At last his eyes rested on the initial victim. Malek lay sprawled against the wall, twitching at times. The shard was still in his shoulder and the skin around it had turned purplish, sickening. Foul liquid seeped out of the wound, an even fouler smell permeating the air. Fever must have set in and the rot started.

Grey held onto his hand as if that would give his friend strength to survive. Upon noticing the silence settled on their group, he looked up to meet Iago’s calculating gaze. The boy’s eyes were filled with so much hope and relief, Iago had to look away.

He returned his eyes to Alec that hadn’t stopped watching him for a reaction. It wasn’t coming. Iago had seen worse sights. Not that it ever got easier.

“Where’s Hugh?” he asked quietly.

Alec’s eyes moved for a second towards Commander, then he whispered. “Locating all the booze in the castle.”

This was no castle but it wasn’t the time to argue semantics. “Most of you need medical attention but first need to leave this place. Can you walk?”

The leader of the soldier’s nodded after a time but didn’t rise. “Commander. He won’t let us leave.”

“Said we must rot here to death for disobedience,” Quir added in a squeaky voice.

“Bullshit.” Iago stood up, his green eyes shining in the dim light. “Get up and find some stretchers to carry those that can’t walk. I’ll deal with Commander.”

“But he’s…”

Iago whirled on Lyra. “He’s trash, a pile of shit I hadn’t bothered to clean up. If he even looks my way…” The unvoiced threat in his barely contained voice shut them all up. Sudden realisation dawned on their faces - they had a furious shaper on their side.

Damn it all, he wasn’t able to control himself. The sight of these young people beaten and bruised, it set him off. He needed to take his temper into his hands but that had never been his forte. “Move,” he hissed through his teeth.

Standing up, he walked to a colonnade and watched Commander from there. The disgusting animal was deep in his cups but not wholly drunk. Not surprising considering his reputation. It would take much more than a few jugs of foreign temple wine to put him under the table.

“What’s going on?” he barrelled from his crates. His voice boomed through the courtyard and all movement stopped behind Iago. He spared a glance backwards to see the whole group frozen mid-motion, eyes deer wide.

He took a steadying breath before leaving the colonnade. “Leave,” he ordered the group softly and went forward to face the scum. It would be so easy to kill him, so very easy. His mind itched to open the gates and let the currents through. They’d make quick work of that imbecile. The earth had suffered him long enough.

But he couldn’t. Not if there was even a smallest of possibilities of keeping him alive. Iago couldn’t get on the Mistress’ bad side. There would be a chance of repairing his standing with her, but he couldn’t risk it. The reason for his survival was to destroy her. No one’s life was worth more than his goal.

Simple really, and yet he wanted to kill this man with his whole being. This Commander was all what was wrong with humanity - base, greedy, depraved, cruel, immoral, vicious, hateful and destructive. He cared not for what he did to others as long as it made him feel good. No family, no honour, there was absolutely nothing in him worth even a drop of respect. To Commander, only Commander and his needs existed.

“Get out-tta, outta de way,” the huge man slurred, struggling to his feet. He would have fallen but stabbing his great sword into the ground he caught his balance. It was a shaky one but he would walk. Step, two, face to face with Iago that was a whole head smaller. “Told, to move it!”

Iago didn’t let his face betray his emotions. He reached for the sword, touched its blade and let the currents scourge through him. They rejoiced, dashing into the sword and shaping it to his will. Dust, all of it turned to dust.

The sudden exhaustion burgeoned to fall him to his knees but Iago kept his composure. When the man’s liquefied brain worked out what had happened and he turned to look at him, Iago met him with a disdainful look, one patented by aristocrats the world over. “Leave.”

Commander’s jaw muscles worked, the mouth opened for a moment then closed, eyes moving to rest on where the great sword had been. His fingers still gripped the non-existent handle. A large swallow and the man disappeared. It wasn’t a run but as close as the drunken fool could manage without toppling.

It wouldn’t be the end, Iago was certain of it. He would sober up and bring the news to the Mistress, asking for whole hell to break loose on the survivors. It was hard to judge whether she’d acquiesce to such a request, she wasn’t stupid. Would have been much easier were she.

Her first reaction will probably be to call him over for a conversation. His stomach sunk at the thought. It would be like a rabbit going for dinner in a lion’s den. His survival and leaving the mansion would be entirely optional.

Damn it all. He massaged his temples, feeling the headache approaching. It wasn’t the time. There were still tasks to be done.

He turned towards the group. They weren’t moving but staring at him, open-mouthed awe in their expressions. There were other emotions, not so kind ones, behind the first layer but he didn’t want to look for them.

“Are you ready to leave?”

Before anyone could answer, Quir came up with Hugh and Tyr in tow. They stared at the space where Commander had sat, then him but asked nothing. Picking up a makeshift stretcher, they lifted Malek up.

They set out with Iago in the lead, but he didn’t miss how Grey moved with a hand over his side, wincing with every step. Alec was no better either, though, more accomplished at hiding it. His stoic face reminded Iago of old fighters. They came in two kinds: ones that complained about everything, and those that just sat, did as told, nothing passing through the wall they erected between themselves and the emotions, the pain.

“How did you know where to find us?” Alec asked in a weird voice, the broken noise distorting the sound.

“Saw the new building from my tower and went to check it out. The noise brought me to your place.”

It was impossible to tell through the dried blood and swelling bruises whether he believed him, but Iago didn’t much care at the moment. He watched the city coming closer and wondered how he was going to make it through the next couple days.