Chapter 15

The remnants of the guild received a tepid welcome upon rearrival in Ravens Hill. Guards and civilians alike stared on as they sauntered by, no greetings, gestures, but mere indifference. The skies had grayed and darkened with the onset of the dusk; Ravens Hill’s monochrome buildings stood firm as ever basked in the dull light that had pierced the cloud layer.

One of the guardsmen ran up to the front of the column, and asked Roderick and Eric for the guildmaster’s whereabouts. Roderick told him the harsh truth: the guildmaster was dead. With him had died the guild culture that he had cultivated for years. No one cared about ranks or their rightful place anymore. After all, what was the point of such divisions now? Those airbourne monsters cared little for that: Veteran, Member, Initiate, all had suffered equally at the claws of that monster.

The living guild members hobbled over the streets back to the headquarters. Some struggled to walk due to their injuries, they needed others to lend them a hand. The road back had been a nightmare. People moaning, and begging for rest every ten minutes. Tears and whines as the loss of friends settled deeper and deeper into the mind. Even the Dragonspiders shied away, as if they understood everything that had happened.

At last, after hours of misery, the cold but familiar floor of the headquarters was under their feet again. The caretakers learned of what had happened, and were shocked; defeat after years of neverending victories was a devastating blow. They hurried to cook dinner. Victor

sank against a wal, and his stomach rumbled ferociously. His legs were waterlogged twigs that would snap if a dust mite set foot on them. His head throbbed, and he constantly had to force his eyelids back upwards. I don’t know which is more appealing now: My own bed, or a nice warm meal.

Roderick and Eric were nowhere in sight, even though everyone else barring the injured were in the Main Hall, resting their limbs and minds while they waited for dinner. One of the veterans in the guild told him Eric and Roderick had gone to the guildmaster’s chamber to contemplate their next move when he asked about it. Victor nodded, and sank back against the wall next to one of the swordsman statues.

Ten minutes passed. One of the caretakers returned to the Main Hall and announced that dinner was ready. A great many cheers were raised in response, and the guild members passed like liquid through the corridors into the Mess Hall. Victor followed along dead last, dragging his feet on the floor and holding a hand against his aching forehead.

He pushed on through the aches and reached the Mess Hall. There was still a free seat in the front, gods knew how that happened. At this point, he didn’t care; all that mattered was to heal. The dirty stone cold floor, the lavish throne of the emperor, a pile of straw in some rickety old barn or a lavish bed in a mansion, as long as he would get his rest, he’d be content.

Pouring sounds came from the kitchen. A minute later, the caretakers shuffled out of the doorframe carrying large platters on each hand. Eight wooden bowls were placed on them, spilling liquid over the edge as their carriers traversed the lumpy cobblestone to their destination. Victor groaned. This way of eating didn’t exactly hold up to imperial treatment back in Autokratorberg. A firm throbbing of his head guided his thoughts away, and he propped himself upright in the chair.

After far too long, the caretakers finally reached him and gave him his dinner. placed a bowl down before him. It was a thin soup containing diced bits of chicken and various vegetables. He dug in. From the first trickle that landed on his tongue, he could tell it was a hack job: The soup was watery and overflowing with salt, the chicken rubbery, and the various vegetables wouldn’t break apart no matter how hard he chewed. Exactly how difficult is it to cook a soup properly? Ugh, at least I can swallow it, there’s that at least.

After chowing down the soup, he dragged himself back to the Initiate Quarters. Eric was nowhere in sight still, and William had reduced himself to a deaf ghost. Victor couldn’t blame them; everyone was far too exhausted for friendly chit-chat.

He pushed the door of the Initiates quarter open. The injured were there resting in their beds, groaning at the sudden flare of light. Victor threw the door back into the frame, where it was held back by another Initiate entering the room. He slid into his bed without changing clothes, and took his amulet in his hands. After everything that had happened, the trinket and the solid bed comforted him well. I missed you, bed. Even though you’re uncomfortable, you still feel like home.

* * *

“Wake up, wake up! Get yourselves dressed and ready for roll call!”

Victor lifted his lazy limbs out of bed, suppressing a yawn in the process. He hadn’t had enough rest to his liking; his limbs and eyelids complained with every movement. Alas, duty called, and there was no avoiding it. The first day with Eric as guildmaster had come. Getting out of bed’s still a pain, old grump or best friend be damned. Victor threw himself out of bed, and instinctively reached downwards, then remembered he hadn’t bothered to take off his clothes the night before.

The guild gathered in the Briefing Room as usual. Eric and Roderick were already there, both with their hands behind their backs and Eric biting his lip. Eric’s eyes dashed back and forth over the crowd, and stopped the moment they crossed Victor’s. Hang in there, Eric. You got this. He nodded. A wink came back as reply; Eric appeared relieved, yet sweat poured from his forehead still.

When the guild had fully assembled, Roderick bumped Eric’s shoulder. He made a throaty grunt, and spoke. “Well, good morning everyone.”

“Good morning, guildmaster!”

Eric nodded, and wiped away sweat from his brow. He opened his mouth, but said nothing. His face reeked of desperation, a clear sign he had no idea how to continue. Roderick whispered something in his ear. Eric nodded. “Right, so I’m sure we’ve all had time to let what happened sink in. Truth to be told, I never imagined in a million years that I would be standing before you like this. But, the guildmaster used his final words to appoint me as his successor, and I will respect them.”

“Let me say something.” Lenny stepped forwards. “I have been a part of this outfit for ten years, and the guildmaster’s wisdom never failed to impress me. Ten years, not once a failure. If he believes you to be a solid leader, I trust his word. You better not disappoint,” he said, and fell back into line.

“Yes Lenny, I will,” Eric said. He took in a deep breath, and resumed speaking. “So, I’m sure everyone’s wondering what the future of the Civil Defense is going to be. I’ll come out straight with it: We are going to integrate ourselves into the imperial system.”

Conversations broke out between the ranks. Victor tasted the air, and found himself overwhelmed with doubt. “But guildmaster, don’t we pride ourselves on our independence? Why abandon that now?” a member in the back shouted.

Eric sighed. “Let me explain. I understand fully that we’ve kept ourselves independent since the day it was founded. Both in the days of the old kingdom, and now under the Justitians as well. The truth is, this decision hasn’t been a choice. We’ve been forced to align ourselves.”

“What do you mean, guildmaster?” said one of the veterans. “Are you implying you’ve been threatened into submission?” His gaze turned sour, and he crossed his arms. Roderick stared blankly forward, as if he stared at an empty wall.

“No.” Eric shook his head. “Our independence didn’t stop us from being attacked by the dragon cult. We had friendly relations with the imperials, nothing more. But that didn’t matter, did it? In the end, we still were attacked out of the blue by these flying monsters, these ravenous beasts. We’ve been dragged into this entire war by them, so take you anger to them!”

“I have something to add to the matter.” Roderick glanced towards Eric, who nodded in approval. “All the organised crime factions within Lokahn today have ties to the cult. The bandits we’ve raided were only a thread in a large, intricate web. They see anyone who simply wishes to keep the peace as their enemy, whether they be town guards from the local garrison, or mercenaries.”

Lenny gritted his teeth. “Well why didn't you say so earlier? That would have been very useful to know before we were dive bombed by some creature from the abyss!”

Roderick’s face filled with guilt, as he nodded slowly. “I’m sorry. Official imperial policy is to respect a local institution’s wishes. Since the Civil Defense wanted nothing to do with the cultist insurgency, we didn’t share any information as to how deep their rot has spread.”

“Ugh!” Lenny held his hands before his mouth and pretended to throw up into them. Roderick bit his cheek, and looked the other way.

“I guess we were going to get burned eventually,” said someone in the back of the crowd.

Eric pointed in the direction the voice came from. “Yeah, you’re right about that. We wanted to be left alone. But the cult wouldn’t have it. First my hometown gets attacked, now my outfit falls prey, not to mention the countless trainees and civilians they’ve murdered. I’ve had enough. We’re going to stamp this filth back into the dirt they crawled out of, I swear.” He reached for his sword, and thrusted it into the air. “Who’s with me!”

“WE ARE, SIR!”

All around the room, rows upon rows of swords arose, the tips scraping against the ceiling. Victor’s lips curled into a smile. We all are, Eric. Don’t you worry about that. He sheathed his sword, and listened onwards. Eric was pleased; he had earned his men’s respect. There was no stopping this brotherhood.

“So, guys. Today, I suggest you rest easy! We’ve earned it after what we’ve had to suffer through yesterday. Take your time and rest up, both physically and mentally for the struggles to come. Got it?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Go on your way, then.”

The guild members walked steadily out of the room, their heads held high for the day ahead. Those dragons don’t stand a chance. Victor grinned, as he stayed put to speak with Eric. Everyone had been down on their luck a day earlier: no one said a word, no one wanted anything to do with one another. And now, everyone was ready to march onwards, their spirits brighter than ever.

Victor tapped his foot on the red carpet once the room had emptied, grabbing Eric’s attention. He grinned upon seeing his best friend still standing attend for him. “Well, Vic. How’d I do?”

“Just fine, Eric. Just fine,” Victor said with a smile on his face.

“Now we can start putting things right. I’m psyched to wash the scum out of Lokahn, you?”

“More than psyched. By the time I’m done, people will wonder what on Terris you’re even talking about when you say the word ‘Draconism’, I promise you!”

Eric reeled back as he laughed. “Damn, you sound brutal. You sure you’re not going a little too far?”

Victor scoffed. “‘Too far?’ No such thing as ‘too far’. Not after they attempted to murder me and my family. I won’t forgive, and I will never forget.” He turned, and paced towards the other side of the room. His footsteps were overshadowed by Roderick rummaging through a stack of paper, and another set of footsteps echoing out of the corridor. It was William.

“Oh, you’re here. I was wondering where you two were.”

“Yeah. we’re here,” Eric said. “What did you think of my first roll call, Will?”

“Um, it was good. “I don’t know how else to describe it.”

Eric had a hearty laugh. “Not one for many words, as usual. Well, are you more excited to take up the fight against the cult?”

“As long as you two are going to, then I will join. But every day there’s new dead listed on the billboards. I don’t want to be one of them...”

“Don’t worry.” Eric laid his hand on William’s shoulder. “That isn’t going to happen. Not as long as I’m here, anyway.”

William slowly nodded back. “That’s nice to hear. I’ll be practicing a bit now, see you around,” he said, as he stepped back into the corridor and ran off to the Training room. Victor’s mind vibrated with dread. It had been forever since this sensation reared its ugly head. Not since his father left him. “There we go, I was wondering where I left this sodding thing.”

Eric and Victor spun around to see Roderick with a note in his hands. “What’s that?” said Eric.

Roderick held the small sheet of parchment next to his head. “This? Why, these are the final instructions from the guildmaster. He slipped me this little note in the case of him dying. His words, not mine. I haven’t read them yet, actually.”

“Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s read them.”

The three gathered around each other. Roderick cleared his throat as he unfolded the small parchment.

“Dear Roderick of the Imperial Wizard Corps,

If you have unfolded this letter, then I have passed away, gods be damned.

These are a few instructions that I want you to carry out in this event.

First, you must make sure my appointed successor runs my guild at your side.

I don’t trust anyone besides myself to run the place by themselves, so I need

you or some other imperial to step in. Furthermore, see to it that Victor

Miller is removed from the guild. Kid got a bunch of people killed.

Ask my Veterans for all the details.

Guildmaster Jonathan, Ravens Hill Civil Defense"

Victor’s blood ran cold. The guildmaster’s verdict had struck like Justitia’s gavel upon the heads of the guilty. That man was dead, yet his authority rang true even from the grave. His stomach shrunk and clammed up. The air tasted like frost, thinned like a sharp knife across the skin. He stepped away from the new guild master and his wizard companion, who slowly rose their heads upwards.

Eric’s eyes dashed back and forth between Victor and the note, dumbfounded. “Th-this has to be fake, the guildmaster would never-”

“I’m afraid it is. I showed you that note yesterday, did I not? You heard me preach the importance of one’s final wishes, you said you’d follow whatever those instructions may be,” Roderick said. He stood reserved and lonely, his face bearing a thick sense of guilt. “I’m sorry.”

“But, no, we can’t just throw him out, he’s my friend!” Eric sounded desperate. Victor’s teeth pressed into his lips. His blood ran cold, twisting around the body and shaking his limbs.

“I know you want to keep him in, Eric. I can feel it within you, but there is no choice. As Justitia has established centuries ago, we cannot let go of the final wishes of the deceased, and leave them to vanish into time. We must follow them, lest we bring upon us the scorn of Justitia, or that of our peers.” Roderick laid a hand on Eric’s shoulder, who was on the verge of tears. “Again, I’m sorry.”

“They’re lying, I swear!”

Roderick tilted his head slightly. “Lying? What do you-”

“The Veterans!” screamed Eric. Roderick backed off, almost falling over a table containing the layout of the hideout, with wooden figures dotted around the perimeter. “They have nothing, I swear!”

“...Well, I can go ask them, if you’d like.”

“Yes, please do. You’ll see.”

Roderick left the room. Eric and Victor stood motionless next to one another, sweat covering their foreheads. Victor struggled to catch his breath. The nerves pressed against every part of his skin now,, desperate to break free. He paced up and down the room, hoping it would relieve his stress, but to no avail.

Every second felt like an hour. It all came down to this. Either life as he knew it would continue, or it would end in humiliation. What other work was there for him to do, other than work a subsistence farm for the rest of his life? And what would become of his friends? So many questions, so little time to answer them. His heart beat like a drum in his chest. Finally, footsteps echoed back through the corridor. It was Roderick, shaking his head.

“Men… I’m sorry. I’ve talked to five seperate Veterans, and all have told me the same story. Victor’s reluctance to engage the enemy led to needless casualties.”

Eric walked off the carpet, and stamped his feet into the hard cobble. The echoes waved through the room; the torches flickered in response. “I swear this isn’t...” nothing more. Eric had no defense left.

Victor’s face paled. His ice cold bones squeezed into his organs. With the dullest, emotionless voice, he said, “This is it for me, isn’t it?”

“I’m afraid so,” Roderick responded.

With no further words, Victor shuffled past Roderick and out of the room, with his head held low. He moved as an automaton into the main hall. Eric’s voice spoke something behind him, but it abruptly stopped, and spoke no more. Victor thought nothing of it as he threw himself into the stairwell. His body ached far too much to think about it.

The door of the Initiates room creaked as Victor opened it slowly. A few people were fast asleep, still healing from their injuries. He shuffled as silent as he could over the wooden floorboards back to his bed, and picked his bag off the ground. With one hand, he held his amulet in his hands. Its lustrous silver shone back at him. I’m sorry father. I’ve failed you. His eyes tried to snap shut, as the tears trickled out. He let go off the amulet, and let it dangle around his neck as he shielded his eyes with a forearm, and left the room.

The main hall was deserted when Victor stepped out of the stairwell. No one was there to say goodbye. Not William, who most likely didn’t know about his dismissal yet, nor Eric, who had probably been forced to move on. He stepped towards the giant door, and glanced back at the hall one last time as he stepped outside. With a loud click, the door sank back into the frame, and with it vanished his final connection with guild life.