The wind was crispy with the summer heat and blew with great strength across the many watchtowers in Logtown. Arthur’s pale cape danced in the currents as he scanned the streets below. Common thugs and bandits, rapers, Purblights. These were the familiar threats to the public, but little do the people know, dangers were lurking in the shadows of Tridon, namely the Aracni. They prowled among the populace, plotting to uproot the foundation the Gods’ have laid, spouting nonsense of a new age of man without the Gods. No one knew their origin or what measly rock they hid under. Arthur could care less. His duty was to keep Tridon safe as he awaits his brother and the other Pillars’ return, and he had promised to stomp out any damnable rebel he caught within his steel grip.

The very thought brought hot blood to Arthur’s face, but today there were more than Purblights and The Aracni to be upset about.

“A shame,” he said aloud, knowing full well no one was there to hear him speak, “I did not get a chance to speak with the blonde woman. . . nor did she thank me. That one had a fire in her, a rare quirk in a woman. I pray to Lord Gywn that I’d get to see her again before leaving for Lichtwerth”.

A burst of light flared from a watchtower a quarter-mile away. It rode the metal wires that were stung across all the towers in the city like a black spiderweb. The light blitzed straight to Arthur’s tower in five seconds, stopping right before him at the end of the cable. Arthur grabbed the bolt of light and then ripped it off as if it were the wrappings of a gift, the light dissipating and revealing a clear glass bottle with a sheet of parchment paper inside. He removed the paper and checked for the Licht Order Seal. Once he confirmed it, he read the contents.

Master Arthur, your presence is needed at Southern Tower I. Judgment awaits.

Code: IIMXXX-A and IWXX-H

- Sir Barmont

Code A . . . Arthur slipped the note into a slit in his armor and jumped atop the wire. With a push of his heel, gold light sparked from his feet and darted him forward to Southern Tower I. Wind swam through his sun-kissed locks, the snapping of his cape mixed with the carving wind filled his ears, and the speed made his heart skip; feelings Arthur never tired of. It made him feel alive and one with his Lord. He always wondered if this is what it felt like to soar the skies with the Wings of Gwyn, and one day, he hoped to earn that privilege.

Thirty seconds had passed and he arrived at his destination. Sir Barmont and another knight with a face he had not recognized greeted him as he landed. The timber and his plating creaked together when Arthur stood.

“Master Arthur, thank you for the swift arrival,” Sir Barmont said, bowing with his fist over his heart. “This is the new recruit, Willum.”

Willum stepped forward and mirrored Sir Barmont. “It is an honor to meet one of the Twin Pillars on my very first day as a knight. You and your brother are the two Knight Commanders I admired the most during the academy. Two brothers, equal in strength, sharing your place amongst the Seven Pillars of Light. If I had a brother, I’d wish our bond to be as strong as yours''.

Sir Barmont hit the young knight behind the head with a gentle tap. “Mind your thoughts, boy. We are on duty. Master Arthur is a busy man”.

“It’s fine, Sir Barmont. It’s good to have such energy in a green knight,” Arthur said, smiling. He turned to Sir Willum. “You flatter me, Willum, but I fear the legends you hear are misguided. My brother, Gabriel, is much stronger than I”. He felt tiny needles in his throat as he admitted his inferiority. “Nevermind that. Show me the two cases that need my judgment.”

Sir Barmont nodded and led Arthur down a narrow spiral staircase made of stone with a licht rod in hand. He had told Willum to man the station in his absence, but Arthur knew it was so they could speak in private. Code: IIMXXX-A was not something a rookie should hear; Willum had not earned that level of trust yet. Even within the tower, they could not escape the blazing heat. The sun cooked the tower’s stone and the resulting heat seeped inside, turning it into a boiling cauldron.

“How are the other stations?”, Arthur asked after a while. “I assume there are no issues”.

“Aye, everything appears to be under control for the festival tonight. Though, the knights have begged for the evening off to celebrate. They asked me to convince you, but I told them hope for the worse”.

“That is expected. The Licht Order has been working nonstop in preparation for tonight”. Arthur paused to think. He smiled as he imagined his men pleading with Sir Barmont. He could picture them gripping his boots as they did. “Very well. Tell the men they can have their celebration, but tell them to hold their liquor. I need them ready for anything. Ask for any volunteers to join the Night Vigil, a bonus to those who take the offer. Oh, and have Sir Charles on duty without pay as punishment for his mistake”.

“Will do, my Lord,” Sir Barmont said with a surprised look on his face, and yet, there were no hints of doubt in his voice.

Sir Barmont was one of Arthur’s most trustworthy officers. He was a middle-aged man with a greying beard and had worn eyes from years of battle. A thick gash bore across his left cheek. He had once told Arthur it was from a stray glass bottle during a drunken fight in a tavern when he was younger and more foolish, but to Arthur, it did not look like a bottle wound, more of a greatsword or perhaps an ax. Nonetheless, Sir Barmont always listened to his orders and never questioned them, even when Arthur announced himself as the stand-in commander.

After a while, they reached the midsection of the tower. The stones that formed the walls were now cold as they were meant to be and any daring sunlight has been consumed by the dark. If not for the licht rod, the chamber would be black enough to mask a person’s hand from their face. They stood quiet for a moment, making sure there were no lingering ears. Sir Barmont turned the dial on the licht rod and as he did so, the light dimmed to a faint orange and their shadows shrank closer to their person.

“Any word from my brother?” Arthur whispered, still fearful of being heard. “Lord Michael? Lady Gwyndelin? What of Lady Katerina”.

Sir Barmont shook his head. “Still nothing. It has been three months since they’ve entered the Haze and we have yet to hear a single word or see a single messenger from their brigade”. Darkness fell over his eyes, even in the light. “Do you suppose —”

“Hold your tongue. I will not hear it. Must I remind you my brother is a Soulbearer? He has the strength of ten thousand men. He could topple a mountain cap if he so wished. You surely could not suggest he and the other three pillars and the hundred Licht Order knights have fallen”. Arthur felt the warmth rising to his face.

“Tis’ true, my Lord. I find my own words hard to believe, but you must remember, they did not all enter the Haze from the Northern Front. They were to meet at the Old Ruins of Solaris. If all was right, they should have reached the fallen city within two weeks, three at most. Tridon has lost good men and women and families to the Haze. We must not rule out the possibilities”.

Arthur clicked his tongue. He knew the old knight was right, he had a knack for providing accurate wisdom when Arthur refused the harsh truth. “Perhaps they are having trouble collecting research material”.

“Perhaps so . . . ”, Sir Barmont shrugged, “though the truth will be hidden as long as the lost remains lost in that damnable mist”. He led Arthur to a forked hallway, one leading to the prison cells and the other to the research lab. Unwelcoming darkness loomed at the tunnel entrances like thorned vines crawling closer the more Arthur peered into them. “Which one do you wish to handle first?”

“Show me the woman”.

Sir Barmont hovered the Licht Rod over the dividing wall and pressed various protruding stones in an order that drew the Licht Order Sigil. Then, he made way for Arthur. Arthur poured a minimal amount of Lord Gwyn’s light into the last stone in the sequence until it glowed a bright bronze. The walls began to rumble, loose earth fell from their place, a gust of wind howled from the left tunnel, and the disturbance ended with a thud.

They made their way down the tunnel. The crunch of their armor and their heavy footsteps ricocheted off the narrow rock. In some moments, Arthur thought he heard the grievances of women and children between their steps, sounds etched into his memory. Once they reached the windowless steel door at the end, Sir Barmont and Arthur repeated the stone sequence ritual in reverse and a plate of earth lowered from the ceiling, blocking their exit.

Sir Barmont opened the steel door and turned to Arthur. “After you, my Lord”.

The room was timbered all around like the inside of a lodging inn. The air was cold enough for their breaths to fog and the room smelled of a mixture of steam, herbs, metals, and rust. Arthur walked towards the sole rusted, iron bed that looked more like a cage, passing the tables littered with dusty books and empty beakers. He looked down at the barely clothed woman chained by the limbs and neck; her exposed skin was sickly and chapped. He placed the back of his hand on her forehead and felt the grime of boiling sweat. The woman’s body thrashed from his touch, pulling on her chains till blood leaked from her bounded skin. After a few moments, she relaxed to her still state, sweating profusely and pained.

“No improvements, I see”.

Sir Barmont sighed and wiped her gently with a soiled rag he found on the nightstand. His eyes were void of light as if peering through her. “The Gods’ have not been kind to her. She worsens every night. I fear she has little time left”.

Arthur’s chest tightened. He hated seeing women suffer, but he hated himself more for letting this persist. The Licht Order had brought in this sickly woman a week ago. They had found her unconscious by the Forked Crossroad just south of Lichtwerth and she has yet to even bat an eyelid. He knew they could awaken her with a vial of healing water, but each vial cost a fortune and she was a perfect subject to research the Haze. From what the lead doctors in Lichtwerth had told him, the Haze acted as somewhat a poison, spreading throughout the body and driving those inflicted mad, though no doctor could prove it and the madness seemed to vary from person to person. If only we can heal this woman, we could enter the haze without fear, Arthur thought.

“My lord?” Sir Barmont broke in. “What judgment will you bestow upon this poor soul?”

“Continue the study. See if there are any remedies from the other realms that could be of use and keep an eye on the trinkets sent to us from the Guilds. Perhaps there is something we missed”. He looked at the frozen woman once more. Her breathing was sharp and short. He clenched his jaw, mustering the courage to speak his poison. “Dispose of the body when her life is forfeit. We must not let the public hear of this. Find a fresh replacement. One who will be forgotten easily.”

The stones of the prison were cracked and wet with mold. As they walked past the rusted cells, the groans of men begging for grace, food, and water seeped from the grotesque darkness in each cage. The air was rancid from the prisoners bathing in their excrement. Some dared to reach for Arthur and Sir Barmont. All outreached filth-ridden hands were met with a swift lashing from the Jailer’s Holy Whip, a weapon made of liquid light that hardens when striking.

At the end of the long hall, a similar steel door awaited them. Inside, two naked men were hanging by their arms at the center of the room, their feet barely grazing the floor. The area where their skin was held by the iron cuffs was red with blood. Bruises and shallow cuts plagued their bodies. Another man in knight armor stood aside, seemingly waiting for them. Once the doors were confirmed closed, Sir Barmont stepped forward.

“My Lord, these two men have been accused of conspiring against Lord Gwyn. The young knight has brought them in on his own accord. He claims to have overheard their treachery in a tavern late last night”.

Arthur examined the knight again. He did not recognize the armor nor did it carry any of the House Insignias. He found the unknown knight suspicious. He looked like a resident of Tridon, that much he could tell. It made him more trusting but not by much. “You, explain yourself. How did you happen upon these two and their conversation of treachery?”

The knight bowed with his fist over his heart; Arthur took note of his appropriate greeting. “Thank you, my Lord, for seeing me. It brings me great honor. You see, I am a bounty hunter and I have been tracking these two for a few weeks now, all the way from the Northern Front. My employer has heard tales from the wind that they were sowing seeds of treachery. I befriended them and gained their trust. With a generous keg of liquor and their walls cracked, I convinced them to bless me with joining their cause”. The knight paused for a moment. “I believe they called themselves Aracni”.

Arthur’s ears twitched. “Why are bounty hunters keen on this so-called Aracni?”

“My Lord, pardon my tongue, but is conspiracy against Lord Gwyn not a suitable reason to hunt these damnable men?” The knight cracked a wry smile.

Arthur raised his brow. The knight’s smile felt genuine yet it hid something. What could this man be hiding? What does he have to gain? “I see. . . Why bring these men to us? Surely, you want something in return? Gold? Fame? Out with it.”

“I only seek justice”.

“Enough of this fool’s dance. Speak your truth and I will see it done”.

The knight was hesitant, staring at the floor before looking up with conviction in his eyes. “If it is possible, my lord, I wish to be knighted into the Licht Order. I wish to pledge my allegiance to Lord Gwyn not from the shadows, but in the light”.

Arthur stared into the knight’s eyes, into his soul, searching for its color. At first, it was cold and empty like what he imagined the bottom of the ocean to be, then he found it. The warmth of yellow light that every true follower of Lord Gywn had. It was then he knew he could believe the knight’s words. “Very well. I will make you a knight if your story checks out. Sir Barmont, listen to these men’s tale when they awake and check if there are any holes. Stay here with our new recruit until they wake”.

“Yes, my Lord.”

The knight called out once more before Arthur turned for the door. “Pardon me, my Lord. I fear we may not have time”.

“What do you mean?”

“When I spoke with the traitors, they mentioned an attack during the Dawn of Syvernia Ceremony at the church”.

“Tomorrow? So soon?” Arthur took to his thoughts. To think those bastards would stage an attack on such a day. They truly have lost their sense. “What else can you tell me?”

The knight looked unsure. “Their leader is here in the city and plans to unleash an edgewolf onto the people”.

“An edgewolf!? How far have they fallen!?” Arthur spat venom. “Sir Barmont, tell the men there will be no celebrations tonight. We are going on a hunt.” The old knight showed no signs of disheartenment as if he knew they would not be relieved of duty. Arthur bowed slightly to the knight. “Thank you for the information, Sir —” He stopped himself when he realized he had not asked for his name and gave the knight time to fill in his pause.

The knight’s lips twisted into a smirk. “Afzal, my lord”.