Of all the people in our world, Netzach chose me…and I had the gall to turn down his offer of Ascension. History will think me a fool, I know, but I believe my role is to lead humanity through this dark age as one of them. When I spoke this, I felt his presence. I felt his approval. I felt like a child, overwhelmed with pride after receiving praise from my father. He chose Leofwine’s daughter instead. The King shows pride, but I know his heart breaks at the sacrifice.

--A report from Highlord Oswald to the Church, 4th of Highsun, 458

ARC 4 - RADIANT

CHAPTER 9 - AND THE WRETCHED

It was a good bit later in the morning than Raegn was used to eating and the offerings weren’t quite as fresh, but there were certainly more of them. More occupants in the dining room, too. The Crusader’s Hall was a good bit smaller than the Great Hall, though largely set up the same way. A few dozen tables ran long lines down the tall, rectangular room and all the food was positioned at the one end. The stained glass windows that lined towered along the exterior wall cast the sunlight in brilliant shades across the room and its patrons.

Raegn and Kai sat somewhere near the middle, having found enough space that they didn’t have to share a table. It had been a simple morning and one where Raegn was happy to wake to the dawn on his face rather than the meager light of the moon. As misfortune would have it, though, he’d been a bit too forthcoming with his planned activities for the day.

“A brothel?!” Kai broke out in laughter. “Oh, yes, that sounds exactly like a sanctioned Justicar assignment.”

“It is!” Raegn insisted, though it didn’t much matter. Kai was choking on his breakfast he was laughing so hard. The islander’s eyes watered and he eagerly gulped down his drink to save his throat.

“Well, while you’re off getting paid to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh, I’ll be here, leading the Templar,” Kai teased and waved around a fork with a piece of sausage on it.

“I thought that’s what you wanted,” Raegn replied before stuffing more egg-soaked bread in his mouth. Anything that might carry the conversation away from his assignment was of value at this point.

“Oh, it is, it is. But Light, sometimes it’s like herding cats,” Kai complained. “There’s always some idiot absent, so you send two more idiots off to go find him, then those two run into some of their idiot friends and the problem only grows. Meanwhile, the couple dozen idiots that follow you around all day are always squabbling amongst themselves.”

It was Raegn’s turn to chuckle. His friend’s misfortune was not an uncommon affair in larger units. It was one of the many reasons why Raegn always felt more comfortable with his vanguard in Bastion. A small group, hand-picked for not only martial ability, but also to avoid personality conflicts, made leading them all the easier.

“Nora!” Kai said suddenly and rose from the bench. He cursed absently as he bumped the table and sent his cutlery clattering to the floor.

Raegn craned over his shoulder and saw his partner approach. Somehow Nora had gotten her hair into a loose but neatly braided bundle on the back of her head, which disguised its true length. Her presence commanded attention and Raegn caught more than a few other heads turning during his brief glance even though she was dressed in only the standard brown pants and white tunic normally worn beneath their armor. She and Kai exchanged a brief hug and pleasantries, then her attention turned to him while the islander took his seat.

“Ready?”

“It’s still morning,” Raegn groaned, eying what was left of his breakfast. “I doubt a brothel is even open yet.”

“Wait,” Kai interrupted. “You weren’t kidding?!”

Nora looked at the islander curiously, then pursed her lips and glared at Raegn.

“What?” he asked innocently. “Oh, come on. Investigating a whorehouse is supposed to be kept a secret?”

“All of our assignments are only to be discussed with those who have some need to know about them,” she said flatly.

“Well, Kai needed to know,” Raegn retorted.

Nora folded her arms across her chest and set her weight firmly on one leg. “I’m very interested to hear how you justify this one.”

“Erm…” Raegn glanced at Kai, but the islander wore a stupid grin plastered on his face. He was interested too, apparently. “Such an assignment is bound to be filled with distractions!” Raegn argued while trying not to giggle. “Kai here was helping me mentally visualize success in such a…perilous environment.”

He’d done it. Barely. Might’ve held the straight face, too, until Kai slapped the table and burst out laughing. It was the pebble that broke the dam and Raegn could no longer hold back his own amusement. The two hardly managed to keep their seats as they rolled about.

“You’re impossible,” Nora said with a roll of her eyes. “Meet me in the briefing room, we have some information to discuss,” she added as she turned to leave.

Klementien’s Palace was easily the most notable brothel in the whole city. While most were little more than converted houses or inns nestled between other businesses, Klementien’s was an entire manor right on the river. Still on the southern side of the city, of course; the noble families wouldn’t allow for such an establishment right next to their property. Didn’t stop them from taking leisurely walks across the bridge to satiate their desires quite often, though. Their type of business was exactly how Klementien had built up such a fortune in the first place.

While this particular assignment didn’t call for any subtlety, it also didn’t require any real armor. Raegn wore his sword belt as did Nora - he doubted she go anywhere without that blade of legend - and each had chosen a few other accompanying items, though nothing more than standard issue. A knife or two, some pouches filled with coin or cloth for wounds, the piece of parchment from the Order allowing them entry without pay, and the Ring of Warding given to each Justicar.

It was fidgeting with the ring that brought Raegn out of the absent wandering his mind had been doing. He’d been doubting how such a magical item could break, but there was no other explanation for why he hadn’t felt it go cold in the presence of the woodcutter some days ago. Nora insisted hers had been cold when she’d fought the Void on the Islands of Motu, so even if most Justicar had never directly encountered the Void she was proof that the rings worked. There was, of course, another explanation as to its failure, but it was one he dreaded to entertain.

“…so remember, we’re here overtly. He’s a former Inquisitor and has a remarkable ability to recognize when someone is prying. We’re not hiding who we are or why we’re here,” he heard Nora say, the end of a rather long explanation with the same advice she’d given three times already.

“Chatty, aren’t you?” Raegn teased as they walked along. “You wouldn’t happen to be nervous, would you?”

Nora’s face went sour, but her averted gaze told him everything he needed to know.

“These types of places make me uncomfortable,” she admitted. “You, on the other hand,” she said, turning things back on him, “look like we’re about to pick up a loaf of bread. Comfortable, are you? Shall I tell Tera that you’re likely a regular at such establishments?”

Raegn blinked in shock. It was only when Nora revealed her slight grin that he realized the joke had been retribution for pointing out her uncertainty.

“There were two brothels in Bastion,” he informed her, mostly because he felt the need to justify himself. “Unseemly as it was for the city’s heir to be seen in either of them, I had to haul out more than one man after he failed to report for a shift. I learned to play the verbal games without ever having to actually partake in the offerings.”

“Good to know you’re faithful, at least,” Nora muttered.

Raegn chuckled. “How about this: I’ll do the talking to get us to Klementien, then you can take over. Fair?”

She nodded. “Fair.”

As they rounded the corner of the iron fencing that denoted the edge of Klementien’s property, Raegn slipped his mask from a larger pouch hung on his waist. Nora, he noted, took hers from her shoulder where she’d fastened it more like a pauldron hidden beneath her cloak. An interesting choice. He wondered if it was one born out of a tactic for combat or simply personal preference.

“Why does he need this big courtyard? It’s not like—”

Nora cut her criticism of the empty space at the same moment Raegn saw what she undoubtedly had. The courtyard was indeed well kept. Immaculately trimmed hedges lined the walkways of white stone and the grass was kept short and neat. It seemed unnecessary, for the business end of this establishment would be handled behind closed doors. That did nothing to stop Klementien from alerting the populace to the product sold within, however.

Half a dozen women of striking beauty and a few strapping men lay about on the terrace leading into the manor, all of them naked as the day they were born. They moved constantly, though ever so slowly. A hand drawn gracefully along the line of their body, a coy roll or change to the angle at which they laid, all so the midday sun would hit them differently. Advertising is what it was and, judging by the two dozen or so commoners gathered around with their faces pressed between the wrought-iron fencing, it was working.

The two guards let Raegn and Nora enter through the gate without the need to show any sort of paperwork, a sign that Klementien was probably familiar with visits of business rather than pleasure. The men and women posing themselves on the terrace didn’t so much as blink in their direction as they ascended the dozen steps and pushed their way through the double doors. The entryway was dimly lit and from deep within the manor music drifted its way to their ears. Raegn’s nose took the brunt of the welcome and he scrunched it up to prevent a sudden sneeze. There was enough incense burning to fill a castle, though given the activities that occurred here it was better than the alternative scent.

Raegn took the lead, walking half a step in front of Nora as they made their way down the narrow hall lined with candles and see-through draperies. It wasn’t far before the hallway broke open into a larger room with polished stone floors and a counter along most of the back wall. Behind it, another beautiful girl stood with hands clasped delicately atop the marble surface and seemingly waiting for their arrival.

“Welcome to Klementien’s,” she said. “We look forward to fulfilling all of your desires and—oh! Justicar. Umm, hello.”

Raegn chuckled a bit at her surprise as they emerged from the dim hallway and into the greeting area. There were other corridors that lead elsewhere in the manor, each holding promises of pleasure unknown and with a few members of the staff gliding through them with intrepid grace. Everywhere Raegn looked there was flesh tauntingly covered by lace or sheer fabrics. Sometimes it wasn’t even covered at all. He glanced at Nora and noted that she had taken up a position much like a statue. That only added to his amusement.

“Good afternoon,” he said, approaching the counter. “Wonderful to hear that you’re so accommodating of another’s whims, but ours are more business than pleasure. Might we speak with Klementien, please?”

“Of course!” the girl cheeped. “I’ll send someone to let him know.”

She turned around and stuck her head through one of the few curtains in the whole building that was opaque. Raegn couldn’t hear her voice, but he did hear the sound of bare feet headed away from them. No one wore any sort of footwear in this place, it seemed. No one save for the patrons, anyway.

“Well, well, what have we here?” a sultry voice mused.

Another woman came from down one of the halls, sashaying along with the fierce grace of a feline mid-pounce. She was covered in a few sweeping bits of sheer fabric that hardly hid the outline of her body and the smile she bore between cascading locks of brown was hungry rather than strictly pleasant. The girl behind the counter attempted to introduce Raegn and Nora, but this new woman paid her no mind. She continued her reckless advance until she was beside Raegn, taking one of his hands and sliding her other beneath his hood to caress his hair.

“Mmmm, I wonder what’s under that mask,” she breathed. “A handsome face or a brutally scarred one.” She leaned in closer until her chest was hugging his arm and her lips pressing his hood against his ear as she whispered, “Don’t worry, I like them both the same.”

The woman gave a faint moan and bit her lip, then broke away, taking a wide walk back around the counter and swaying her hips heavily. The girl who had greeted them backed away and disappeared through the curtain behind the counter. The woman took the territory as a conqueror would; hands spread along the smooth marble surface, claiming the space so she could lean forward enough that her breasts spilled onto it as well.

“Usually if a Justicar comes here, the mask only gets put on once we’ve already started playing,” she said with a wink.

“No Justicar should—”

Raegn reached out and gave Nora’s wrist a quick squeeze. It was a game. All of it. In a place like this, talking about anything other than sampling the goods would get them nowhere. Someone had already been sent for Klementien. At this point, they could say nothing and get away with it, but at best that would delay them. At worst, there was a chance Klementien would be informed of their behavior prior to standing before him. The owners of such businesses always had a way of knowing which of their customers were appreciative of the staff, but a former Inquisitor? Well, there wasn’t a whole lot of reason to give him more to use against them.

“I’m sure we can find some time to discover your true preference,” Raegn said, indulging the woman’s efforts. “But first, we need to speak with the owner. The sooner we do, the less time you’ll have to spend being patient.”

“And what of your companion?” she asked, dodging his words. “We have quite a few men that would surely give her the experience of her dreams. Or perhaps you were looking for a couple’s encounter? We are quite good at…igniting the lust between lovers.”

Raegn did his best to keep his tone interested rather than annoyed as he leaned onto the counter. The mask was a benefit, at least. No one would have any proof of where his eyes came to rest, so long as his face was pointed in the right direction.

“Your offer sounds quite pleasurable and while I might be willing, I think my partner would be upset were we not to at least fulfill our task, first. I’m not one to come between a lady and her business.”

“Oh, but dear,” the woman said with a finger running along the faint lips of Raegn’s mask, “with us business and pleasure are one in the same.”

“Klementien will see you now—oh! Madam. I apologize, I didn’t realize you were entertaining the guests.”

The newest arrival perked up upon noticing the woman behind the counter and stood awkwardly in the hall like a child interrupting their parent. The Madam behind the counter stood straight and her face of temptation turned to one of boredom.

“Mmm, I’m not convinced they want to be entertained. You may take them.”

Raegn gave a small bow and muttered his thanks to the Madam, all the while relieved that the encounter was over. He and Nora followed the newest girl down a hallway that led deeper into the manor, Nora staring straight ahead while he tried to keep himself interested in the paneling of the walls rather than the girl’s hips.

“Ouch,” he hissed from a sharp pain on his arm.

Nora’s hand was fast, but not fast enough to appear as though it hadn’t left her side..

“Pinching? Really? What was that for?” Raegn whispered.

“I’m might be willing, but my partner isn’t?” Nora quoted back to him.

Raegn tried hard to suppress his smile, then remembered she couldn’t see his face, anyway.

“Was I wrong?” he teased.

Nora rolled her head as much if not more than she probably rolled her eyes. Raegn’s amusement continued to build at the way she had to snap back into her professional airs. Poor timing, to show her bewilderment the moment they entered Klementien’s hall.

The owner of the fine establishment was, to Raegn’s surprise, quite normal looking. He had a mop of short, brown hair that was neither greasy nor unkempt atop his head and rather than being a fat lard like nearly every other lord that fancied calling himself a blessing for the ladies, Klementien was quite fit. He sat in an armed chair carved from wood and had a small table set up beside him from which he snacked upon fruits and sipped upon wine.

“Ah, Justicar. Visits from your kind are so infrequent I almost begin to believe the Church has forgotten me,” Klementien said after a lick of his ringed fingers.

“The Church will not forget you, Master Klementien,” Nora answered with a small bow of her head. “You served honorably, for a time.”

“I served honorably the whole time,” Klementien corrected. “And while the Church may not approve of what I’ve chosen to do with my life after stepping out from under their oppressive structure, I find it just as honorable.”

“Of course,” Nora said with another slight nod. “We need to ask some questions of you, Master Klementien. There are odd happenings and—”

“And the Church believes me to be somehow involved?” Klementien finished. He waved his hand as if to shoo away the possibility before picking up his goblet. “How undeniably short-sighted of them. What do they accuse me of now?”

Raegn clasped his hands in front of him to keep from clenching his fists at his sides. He wasn’t quite sure he’d call their host's behavior rude, but it wasn’t exactly welcoming. Or easily tolerable. Interrupting was one thing, the tone of boredom and disdain another. Surely Klementien must realize that they wanted as little to be there as he wanted them to be.

“There are no accusations, I assure you,” Nora said through gritted teeth. “Only reports of missing persons and rumors of people being smuggled throughout the city.”

“My work is reputable!” Klementien snapped.

He set his goblet down on the table with enough force that it nearly tipped the tray as he rose from his chair. Raegn stood a bit straighter and spread his shoulders instinctively. Former Inquisitor or not - honorable business owner or not - he’d put Klementien down the same. He gave a look out the corner of his eye and saw Nora give a staying gesture with her hand.

“Do you know why my girls stay here, Justicar?” Klementien asked with all the pompous diction of an arrogant king. “Why they work so hard to fulfill the desires of a populace that forsakes them when the sun rises and reveals deeds done in the dark? It’s because I treat them well, darling. I pay them well. I take care of them when they’re sick and praise them when they’re well. The reason my establishment is better than any other is because my staff want to be here. Do you think, no matter how you might beat them, that a slave would ever bat their eyes? Ever hold a deep conversation? Would a slave giggle and laugh to remove your inhibitions?”

No,” he said with a sharp glare. “I have suffered the Church attempting to sully my name with many things, but you can tell this straight to the Council of Seven: I. Do. Not. Deal. In. Slaves.”

There was a scream from somewhere in the manor and Raegn’s blood went cold. Whatever frustration had been building within him at Klementien’s admonishment vanished so quickly it might never have been there. It hadn’t been a cry from someone in the throngs of pleasure. It was pain - visceral and raw. And it was cut short like the air had been stolen from the screamer’s lungs.

Klementien’s horrified eyes and sinking frown were the needed proof - it wasn’t normal, either. Raegn took off in the direction from which the sound had come. He ascended a flight of stairs three at a time and began to snake his way through the upper level while Nora’s shout at Klementien faded behind him. Some of the other staff were frozen in place, but a few were running in the opposite direction - enough to tell he was going the right way. As he rounded another corner of the intersecting hallways he all but tripped over a girl cowering on the ground. She looked up at him, then feebly pointed at a closed room a few doors down.

The Light surged into his arm, but he stopped mid-swing of his arm and let the shockwave die. Without knowing the layout of the room on the other side, he hesitated to blow the door apart. Showering the occupants with hundreds of tiny shards was hardly a way to save them. It would have to be the normal way, then. He gave the door an empowered kick near the hinges. Brass tore away from wood and the door went careening into the room, though not far enough to do anyone any harm.

Upon entering, however, he wished it had. Atop the bed was a man, hunched over and with his hands around a woman’s neck. Her face was red and the veins bulging beneath her skin, though they were hard to make out between the swelling and bruises. This establishment might have claimed to fulfill any fantasy, but truth in advertising only went so far. This type of desire had no place in the world.

The man’s head snapped around at the intrusion and he released the woman. Her head lolled to the side, unconscious. Or dead. Raegn wasn’t given the time to decide. Her assaulter leapt from the bed and charged him.

A few things registered as odd in the moment it took the man to cross the room. First, he was buck naked. Raegn hadn’t fought a naked man before and while the thought of the story might be entertaining for someone like Kai, living it was another matter. Second, there was a sword belt hung on a chair at the far side of the room, yet the man made no move for it. It was as if the thought hadn’t even occurred to him to use his own weapon.

If this asshole was too dumb to utilize the tools available to him, it would make things all the easier. Raegn threw a heavy right hook that the man didn’t attempt to dodge. His fist connected and rocked the man’s jaw. Other than a turn of his head and a momentary pause of his forward movement, though, the man gave no indication he cared. When his head came back to the front he bared his bloody teeth, growled, and grabbed Raegn by the arms. The wall came against Raegn’s back astonishingly fast and he let out a cough at the impact.

Not so easy then.

A man’s face was often said to reveal much about his intentions. Shifty eyes showed deceit, smiles pleasure, and tears pain. This man’s face, however, showed nothing but a desire to kill. His eyes were so bloodshot that the edge of his irises weren’t visible against the black and his lips were carved into a permanent grimace.

Raegn called more Light and forced one hand to the man’s throat to keep him back. He’d seen enough sloppy fights in the streets to know that teeth were used as a weapon often enough and this crazed bastard looked like he might try it despite his broken jaw. The grip was the more pressing problem, though, for no matter how Raegn tried to separate himself, he failed. The man’s hands had turned to vices.

With his free hand, Raegn ripped a knife from his belt and shoved it into the man’s side. The blade slid between the ribs, but the man didn’t care. In fact, his grip tightened. Were it not for the Light strengthening him, Raegn’s arms would have snapped like twigs. The man tried to lean forward, choking himself against Raegn’s outstretched hand, and snarled.

Raegn struggled to keep his arms working with the building pressure crushing his muscles. He slammed his heel into the man’s foot, breaking toes, but earned no reprieve. Desperate, he stopped pushing him away and pulled instead, driving them together to head-butt the fucker. Nora had been right - whatever was done to the carved Everwood of a Justicar mask made it like metal. It only dazed the man momentarily, but that single blink of confusion was enough. The man’s grip loosened ever so slightly.

Raegn pulled another knife, this one from the strap over his chest, and rammed it up into the soft tissue beneath the chin. That had the desired effect. Eyes winced and blood leaked from the corner of a mouth that was now pinned shut. Mercifully, hands went limp and Raegn separated himself as the man collapsed onto the floor.

Nora burst into the room while Raegn staggered back and nursed his near-broken arms. She gave him enough of a glance to see that he wasn’t severely injured, then rushed to the bed to inspect the girl.

“She’s still breathing,” Raegn heard her say. He took her word for it. Had to, for he couldn’t take his eyes from the fresh corpse on the floor.

What the fuck had been wrong with him? Why were his eyes like that? And why didn’t he feel pain? Only someone using the Light would be able to ignore their injuries and continue to put up that much of a fight, but it was like the man’s mind was gone. Like it was taken…by something else. Was that the power of the Void? Was that what one became if they answered its call?

Raegn shuddered at the thought.

Klementien sat in his chair, thrumming his fingers on its arm and ignoring the girl dancing before him. His eyes flicked over to the far end of the room where another of his staff appeared and gave the hand signal for a visitor. He gave the response, nothing more than an upward tilt of the jaw, and waved away the dancing girl. She curtsied deeply and scurried away. Obedient, but there was a twinge of embarrassment on her face, he noted. He’d reward her later and let her know that she’d done well. The girls needed that sort of encouragement and it wasn’t fair of him to take out his frustrations on them.

A man strode in, the only part of him that was truly visible his boots as they broke through the bottom of a long cloak that shrouded him in black. Klementien stiffened in his chair and made a conscious effort to wipe any emotion from his face. The visitor offered no greeting and cared little for proper customs. Rather than stop in front of Klementien’s chair like anyone else who came in wanting a discussion, he strode up beside and behind him, taking the place a shadow might.

“Call your girl back. There is nothing odd about this conversation or my presence,” the man instructed.

Klementien grimaced, but waved his hand. A different girl came out, her tits bouncing merrily as she hurried over with a glass of wine. Klementien took it with a tight grip and politely shooed the girl away. Being ordered around like a puppet in his own house was disgraceful, though he managed a meager smile when the girl who had been dancing returned. She curtsied again, then took to the alluring grace of her art. Her brunette braid twirled about while the coin belts fastened about her waist jingled to her movements.

“One of your experiments went mad,” Klementien muttered. “Again.”

“So I heard.”

“That’s it? You heard?!” he growled while strangling the neck of his glass. “Last time it took five of my guards to subdue the fucker and every one of them was injured in the process! If the Justicar hadn’t been here this time one of my girls would be dead!”

“You will continue to be compensated, of course,” the man assured him.

Klementien turned to look up at the hooded figure looming over his shoulder. Only a bit of chin was visible from beneath the shadow shrouding the man’s head. He never had gotten a good look at him, but the voice was always the same. That was enough to convince him he wasn’t meeting someone new each time.

“I took this deal because it was simple,” Klementien said, pausing to lick his lips after realizing they’d gone dry. “You said I would be harboring a few of your men. Less than a dozen. In exchange, I’m protected from a repeat of the war that nearly ended the Realm, should it ever come again. It was practically free insurance given the news from Bastion! Yet now I come to find that your “men” are liable to forget they’re human! When will the next one snap, hmm?! I should put you all back on the streets!”

“It was your failure to neglect negotiating the finer details of our arrangement,” the man answered coldly. “Now that you’ve welcomed us in, I think you will find it in your best interest to allow us to stay.”

Klementien felt the air around his neck tighten and the drops of wine that sat in his mouth sputtered out of his lips. Impossible. He hadn’t moved! Klementien’s eyes jerked to their corners, but only confirmed that any hands were still beneath the black cloak. How? How then, could he feel the fingers squeezing and tightening, depriving him of air and blood. He tried again but in the failure of a breath he panicked and clenched his glass so hard it shattered.

The man casually leaned forward and whispered, “Our deal continues, yes?”

Klementien nodded fervently and an incense-filled breath was finally permitted passage through his neck. He gasped, regretting all the while that he’d let his temper get the best of him. He could get away with those outbursts when dealing with the likes of the Justicar, for they were bound by their laws and rules. The man of shadow had no such self-imposed weakness. Still, this was his house and he would protect it, though it would not be through strength, that was for certain. He hadn’t built this place out of muscle, but guile and will. If this man liked feeling in power, then showing a bit of injury would serve to advance his position.

“It would be nice, at least, to know who I’m dealing with,” Klementien wheezed, then tacked on a bit of a groan for good measure as he rubbed his throat. “I think I’ve proven to be a most considerate host. Has that not earned me that much?”

From what he glimpsed of the movement from the man’s strong chin, Klementien swore he saw the makings of a smile. It was a horrible thing. He couldn’t see a mouth beneath the shadow, but he imagined perfect teeth, so aligned and white and yet insidious all the same.

“I am but a messenger,” the silvery voice explained, “as is the one who sent me. We each have our roles to play. He is the Prophet. I am the Harbinger.”