The world returned as something cold tightened around his bloody wrists.

Doesn’t feel like a rope this time… maybe a chain? Jack thought. No, not that either...

Flames engulfed a candle in front of him.

“Go to hell.” He growled, finally able to see a heavy padlock around his arms.

Hunter smirked, shaking his head. “I have no intent on returning, kid.”

Jack's lucidy finished coming back and he frowned. “Oh, powers that be, what the hell is happening?! What did you do?!”

“The businessman and the lady were only a glimpse. Sure, sure… You should be realizing now leaving this place isn’t a good idea unless you’re more than ready.”

The worst idea would be staying here, listening to you.

You won't brainwash me!

“You’ve still not answered my question."

“Remind me.”

“What did you do to that woman... leper, right?”

“I removed her.”

In a snap, rage filled Jack. A slew of fury left his tongue before he could realize he wasn't in his right mind.

“Removed her?! How?! You tied her with a rope and brought her to an infirmary? Huh?! Or did you use your sorcery and turned her into dust?!”

As quickly as it appeared, the anger left Jack.

Dammit! He thought. It happened again.

Really should not have said those words to a person like that.

The old man... didn't break into rage. “Well… I killed her. Vague word, but does the trick as well.” He simply grabbed a smoke out of his trench coat's pocket. “She’s not in the plain of existence anymore and she didn’t murder you, so that’s good.”

Good?

You still didn’t admit to being a sorcerer. Say demented things all you want, but don't lie to me!

“Don't look at me like a fool: the way she died--”

“Do you believe me?”

What? Jack shook his head. Why in the world would I?

“Well...I don’t care what you think about me.” Hunter waved. “I care that you listen carefully and understand: my words are true. Indeed, I’ve lied, many times, but not tonight. Tonight I need you.”

Alright. Let’s hear you out… Not like there’s anything else I can do...

“Hell, your face really doesn’t tell me your age, but you should remember the Brunos. The news of land, weren’t they? Backstabbed one another like southerners, but somehow still survived until... you know when,” Hunter spoke. “After that, those ugly, ugly family wars began...”

“I scouted the battlefield of Ridge O Valleyu.” Know more than well what you’re talking about.

“Right.” Hunter snapped his fingers. “That’s what your outfit reminded me of. Who your company fought for?”

“The Swords of the Guardians served the Darks and killed the Tuscanies,” Jack murmured.

Hunter’s face dropped and he shook his head.

“Well, ‘least you know the chaos Rednaro was in. Like all wars do, the family wars eventually finished as well, leaving a complete mess. Yet, through all of that, the Bruno ground remained, mostly, untouched. In the depths of their ground, here, a cemetery lies.”

“I see that.”

“This place is freaky.” Hunter blew smoke at Jack, who squirmed at the stench. “Sure, sure… The dead are buried here and then something happens to them. I came to this place as the family wars came to an end. The Brunos knew what happened here, their henchmen left notes and journals. They stayed in this place, armed to the teeth, in part, trying to figure out how it worked, in part, trying to keep this issue contained. I think one day they got close, tried to go deeper and... ” He shook his head.

“You’ve seen those who returned. You’ve seen me shoot them. I’m not a liar and I’m not a sorcerer. Those things--”

“They’re zombies from bards’ tales!”

“I see them as those who’ve been given a second chance while I’m the one who’s been given the job of taking it away.”

“You’re saying all this because you want me to do a favor for you? That’s not true, is it?” Jack said. He’d never seen anyone tell such an elaborate story just to cover up sorcery. “As a companyman, I know how to keep my mouth shut. I don’t care about your sorcery experiments, your murders and everything. I care about getting a purple rose and finishing my damn quest.”

Hunter took the smoke out of his mouth and shoved it in between Jack’s lips. “You don’t get it, I see. Think for a while,” he said, heading out.

***

Out of all the things I’ve gotten myself into, this, without a doubt, is the biggest bullshit. Not even what happened at Pearl compares...

First of all, I travel through half the world and land in the wrong place -- the site of some demented sorcery. Then a maniac starts killing people around me and holds me hostage until I do what he says. Ugh, what is wrong with this world…

I need to get out of here and I need to get that rose for Guardian.

Only a few damn quests were left. I was so close. Wonder what penalties he’ll give me for being so late and--possibly--not even getting that purple rose.

Before I think about that, I gotta get out of here.

I could try to break out and run again, but I doubt that’ll work.

Another way is to kill that old man, but damn is he strong. And a good aim too.

With my eyes, I’ve only seen one sorcerer. Was she any less tricky and evil than Hunter? No, they’re the same. All sorcerers are worse than the worst crooks...

This is such a mess....

Oh, powers that be, I just need to get out of here... Is that too much to ask?!

Ah, they’ve never existed and never helped. Like always, gotta take this into my hands and make it out. The only way to do that… I gotta accept his deal, don’t I?

***

A dog’s bark startled Jack.

“Conclusion?” Hunter loomed in front of him.

Jack closed his eyes and beat his head on the back of the chair. I hope I’m not making a huge mistake...

“I did,” he murmured. “I shall serve the agreement until the client is satisfied, death or pain be damned,” he repeated the company’s saying. It was long out of date, but tradition remained. Also, this saying left the tongue a better taste than the new one did.

“Good.”

Hunter put a dim lantern he held on the ground and shoved his hand into the pocket of his trench coat. The hand slipped back out, held something shiny in front of Jack’s face and put it back into the pocket.

“Gunpowder of the deal,” Hunter said.

Oh, powers that be, Jack thought. That’s a magical relic!

“You show me that and tell me you’re not a sorcerer?”

“Sure, sure... There are stories of armies using magical weapons, of kings causing miracles.” Hunter produced a key and unlocked Jack. “Yet no matter how hard you'd try, you couldn't get a thousand sorcerers or a noble with a magical past. The fabled armies found the weapons and used them to conquer, the kings caused miracles out of nowhere.”

“Just stories, nothing else.”

Hunter shook his head. “It’s a lesson: things don’t always follow the rules you know.”

Jack freed his hands and stood up in unison with Hunter’s hound. His eyes jumped from the dog to the old man in the moment of awkward silence.

“So, I need to get a thing from one place to another?” He said. “Just follow some orders?”

Hunter nodded.

“Lucky me. I’ve spent most of my life doing that already.”

“This matter's a bit more complicated, at its bones, though, it’s just that.”

***

Jack followed Hunter through the corridors. In the lantern’s light, he saw a few things--doors, odd paintings on the walls and heaps of trash on the floors--he’d missed trying to escape.

They went into the library, the dog behind them.

The old man put his lantern on the table and turned towards a bookshelf. “First place where I’ll need your help,” he said.

Hunter grabbed one side of the shelf and pointed at Jack who grabbed the other. Together, they pushed. The thing didn’t move an inch. Jack backed off and rubbed his muscles. Hunter jerked his head towards the shelf. Jack stood for a moment, put his back against it and pushed even harder.

The shelf drifted across the floor, squeaking and making the dog whine.

Hunter put his hand in a crack in the wall where the shelf had stood. He took out a set of keys, turned to another shelf and swiped the books off, revealing a steel chest wrapped in chains and locks. He got it open: the locks clinked, the keys turned and the hinges squeaked.

Inside, there were two simple things: a leatherbound journal and an intricate urn.

The old man grabbed both and tucked the journal into his trench coat pocket. He inspected the urn then handed it over to Jack.

“Keep this better protected than a hound keeps its pups,” he said.

“What are you keeping in here?” This doesn’t look as heavy as it is...

“The most important thing there is.” Hunter headed towards the exit. “Sure, sure... You don't let it out of your eyesight if you don't want to lose your eyesight.”

“And where do I need to bring this important thing to?”

“A place even the dead try to escape.”