Cariline paused as they walked around the West Tower looking for the keys for the cells. They could hear the riot outside moving towards the Temple and away from them. She turned to the desk where she was currently looking. The soldier who occupied it was disgusting. Grim and bottles filled with stale smelling ale littered the area. She opened a drawer and recoiled in horror. Oh, she thought as she drew out an old sock with crusty on it, can’t they think of anything else to do. She tossed the sock out on the floor wiping her fingers on her dress in disgust.

“What?” asked Faldo who was nearby, looked at the sock with a raised eyebrow. He was walking back from the cells in the rear of the tower where he searched for a spare set. The plan had been simple. Invite some people that hated Damon to see him walk; they start a riot. While that was going on, the three of them sneak into the tower and get a spare set of keys. When they bring Damon back to put the riot down, Faldo and company relieve the guard of the troublesome criminal everyone loved to hate.

“Men are so disgusting and are pigs,” She stated as she spun on her heel and stomped off towards the door leaving Faldo with a puzzled look. As she approached the door, she heard some voices on the other side approaching the thick door.

“Reckon they left any rearguard?” A male said in a thick woods draw.

“Naw Jiles, Ole Fred said that the entire guard would be turned out if we whipped them poor idiots into a frenzy. That is why Lindsey allowed herself to be arrested.” Came a female voice. Her voice was coarse like a millstone grinding flour.

“Well then, let’s get the garrison’s armory distributed to the good people of the city where it belongs…” Cariline didn’t stop to listen anymore. She moved swiftly to the door as she heard a latch start to turn.

“Faldo, Marlin! We have company,” she called as she planted her tiny body against the door. Faldo vaulted the desk he was searching with a giant bound and slammed himself against the hardwood door as someone was trying to push it open.

“Seems someone has beat us to our well-earned loot, Marisa. What shall we do 'bout that?” Came Jiles’s slimy voice slithering through the barely cracked door.

“Well my boy,” Came Marisa’s voice grated, followed by a blade slipping through the crack catching Faldo’s thigh, tracing a thin ribbon down it, “Orders are orders. They will just have to share.”

Faldo gave a sharp gasp of pain as the blade withdrew. He shifted his position to move his leg out of reach and drove his big shoulder deeper into the door. A thud came against the door, followed by another, as shoulders began to beat in a rhythmic tempo. Faldo bounced back and forth as he put all of his weight against it. He could hear angry voices calling for something to use as a ram or maybe an ax. The big man strained, his face building into a red storm, eyes closed in pain from the wound in his leg.

“Go help Marlin bring some desk and such to barricade this,” He barked at the wide eye Cariline. She ran to the colossal smith, who had already wrapped his tree trunk-sized arms around a desk and picked it up by himself to carry it over. Cariline stopped to help carry the wooden desk, looking up helpless at the smith with wide blue eyes. She tried several times to grasp at the desk until the smith waved her off with a shake of his massive bald head.

“Go get a chair girl,” he puffed, face red with exertion, “I got this.”

Marlin deposited the large desk beside Faldo, taking a deep breath of relief. Faldo grunted as another crack hit the door, drawing the attention of the smith. Marlin tipped the desk meaningful towards Faldo and the blonde-haired bravado looked wide-eyed at the smith, cocking a nervous smile. He was nodding enthusiastically at the smith.

“On three?” Faldo said and the smith with Faldo’s head wagging furiously counted together, “One, two, three!”

Faldo dodged to the side right as Marlin flipped the desk longways against the door. It landed with a crash against the door wedging it shut. Faldo sat shaking, head between his knees, breathing hard. His face had turned into an ashen color. It color looked paler when combined with his chin-length blonde hair.

“What’s the matter boy,” Marlin asked, “Ain’t you ever been in a fight,”

“Axe,” Was all Faldo said, pointing at the door.

Marlin looked again where Faldo’s head had been. Just to the right of the spot was marked with a hole cut with a blade of an ax. Marlin exploded into a burst of roaring laughter, slapping Faldo on the back and then helping him up.

“Boy, you have balls of solid steel,” He said still laughing, “If that where me, there would be piss still rolling down my leg and an aroma around my backside.”

“So, if you boys are done with your comparison of the hardness of your balls. We have company, remember.” Cariline shouted as she threw a chair through the front window at an attacker, knocking him back to the street below. Faldo jumped back to his feet drawing a throwing knife from his brace. He flung it through the window hitting another woman who was trying to come through.

“Can you stack something in there, Cari?” Faldo asked as he drew his rapier, “You know Marlin when you said there was a whole damn city that hated Damon. I honestly didn’t think you meant it.” He came to stand beside the window and kept stabbing at anyone who poked their head up as Cariline piled whatever she could find into the opening.

“How is it that a pregnant woman gets stuck with all this damn heavy lifting,” she huffed and sweated with the exertion, ”and don’t blame Marlin, it was your plan remember.”

“WHAT YOU’RE PREGNANT!” Came both men at the same time, they stopped what they were doing to stare at the young woman with incredulity. Momentarily the battle had been forgotten as the realization of the statement set into the two men's heads.

“I gave you the milk of the poppy!” Yelled Marlin in his deep, gruff bass. His voice boomed off the walls, making dust fall from the rafters above.

“And I slammed you in a wall and let you get in this FIGHT!” Yelled Faldo, ignoring the window he was supposed to be defending. Heads were starting to appear as the attackers realized that the fight had for the moment been forgotten.

“While all this confession is wonderful for the soul and the concern is very touching boys. We are in the middle--” she stopped long enough to use a long pole to push someone back out the window Faldo was now pointedly ignoring, “--in the middle of a nice talk, with all these delightful people.” She finished the last with an emphasizing hit to a vicious dirty man, across his head, with the pole.

Faldo came up beside her and shoved her behind him protectively saying darkly, “Stay behind me you are in no condition to fight.”

“What do you m—“ she was cut off as one of the side window’s shutters started to collapse inward. Half a dozen scruffy men climbed through wielding wicked-looking curved swords, their teeth flashing menacingly.

“Marlin we need an exit!” Faldo said as he broke a sweat as he spared back and forth with several attackers. After watching Faldo’s sword work, Cariline tended to agree she was not in shape for this fight, but she was going to have a talk with him about women. Marlin put down the huge smith hammer he brought long enough to pick up a desk and hurl it at a window, the shattering of glass and splintering of wood could be heard intermixing with the sounds of the fighting. Faldo sheathed his sword and scooped up Cariline, who screeched and slapped him across his chest rapidly.

“Put me down,” she squawked indignantly, “I can walk.”

“No,” he said cutting her short while ignoring her slapping, “You might trip jumping through the window or cut yourself on the landing.”

Cariline heard Marlin chuckle behind them as he fought off the looters. Faldo jumped through and landed on the cobble in the alley with Marlin close behind them, shaking the ground when he landed. Faldo put Cariline down and smoothing her dress out for her as she tried to slap his hands away. She spun on him and stuck a finger in his nose.

“If you ever do that to me again, I will cut those steel balls of yours off.” She said in a low, threatening voice. It was just too much for Marlin. He burst into guttural throaty laughter. Faldo turned looking hurt at the smith who he had counted as an ally. Marlin finally caught his breath as they were walking away.

“Sorry boy, I made all those same mistakes with my wife during the Banderling Wars.” He chuckled again, “It is like going back in time, it is.”

They didn’t encounter any more resistance outside after they cleared the first few streets. At them few encounters, Faldo noticed despite Cariline’s objections, she let the two men do the dirty work. They wandered, watching the chaos currently unfolding within the walls of their city and finally, Faldo called a halt.

“Obviously something more then what we caused is happening,” Faldo began thoughtfully half to himself, and Marlin nodded his agreement, “I say we go to the Three Pigs. Maybe Phil will know what is going on.”

“Aye son, something is in the air. Taverns are the common house for news. What say you Cariline?” The smith turned to Cariline who only warily nodded. The smith gestured for Faldo to lead.

Sporadically there were houses on fire, seemingly at random, but Faldo started to notice a pattern. The people whose homes and businesses burned were the ones who supported the Mother Matron and her Temple. He swallowed a hard lump in his throat and glanced knowingly at Marlin, who just gave him a nod. Faldo picked up the pace to a jog, and they rounded the corner to where the Three Pigs should have been.

The big tavern was fully engulfed, the roof had flames curling around it. All the windows and doors had fire shooting out of it. A prominent form laid out front in a puddle of blood. Philian had been partially skinned. The portly man looked like one who had been tortured.

Cariline gave a cry of dismay and ran past Faldo to the figure in the smoke-filled street. Her two companions came slowly up behind her to stare at the form on the ground. The friendly tavern keep, who tried to resist the Temple by taking in the first slave and treating her like a human, was dead. For a time all that could be heard was screaming in the street and the smell of the burning buildings, then a slow clap started behind them, startling the group.

“Well, well” came a voice that was cruel and coarse came from the origin of the clapping, “and I thought I was going to have to search the entire city to find all of you and here you are, the key to the Temple itself. By the way, thanks for the invite. It has been a fabulous party.”

Cariline looked around behind her and took in a deep breath, her thin face blanching. “Daddy,”

The Underworld was unlike anything the shade had ever seen. He had walked down the white marble Judgment Way that seemed to be hundreds of leagues in length in the City of the Dead. He had no way to tell though, the light shined continuously on the city, keeping it at that just right time of the morning when you wanted to be on the lake fishing. The buildings seemed to be built from the latest fashion on the outer edges, where he had started walking at what appeared to be ages ago, to the archaic by the bridge over the most beautiful river he had ever seen. The shade gazed over the edge at the glistening waters and glanced up at the reaper questioning. The reaper gave a long sigh and shook his head.

“No,” the skeletal apparition said as if answering this question before, “There is no fish in the river, and I wouldn’t try either. The Grim does look down on it.”

The shade shrugged his shoulder’s, how was he suppose to know. He had seen other shades laughing and eating, fighting and brawling. Demons, he had even seen a few shades going at it like rabbits. If this was the Underworld, he thought, he could stand it for a few centuries.

They walked up a long set of stairs, and he no longer got winded. His joints didn’t ache. He could see clear to the top were tall pillars that stood erect along the glistening white wall, like an honor guard watching over the court. The pair reached the top of the long flight of stairs and looked upon a magnificent court constructed of the purest marble that made the court gleam white. Into the Marble at the top, the history of the World of Grim was carved in exquisite detail, from the Grim’s birth to today. He shook his head in disbelief as he watched history slowly being etched in the next section. Fear grew in him, for a being with this much power would surely know about his sinful life. He tapped his skeletal companion on his radial shakily, suddenly feeling discomfort in his non-corporeal body.

“Um, Mr. Reaper sir, What is being a reaper like?” He asked nervously, licking his lips.

“What?” The reaper asked confused, turning to look at the fidgeting shade beside him. The shade shifted nervously beside his escort, sifting the dirt with a barefoot. The shade looked shamefaced at the reaper as he began to clarify his question.

“I mean, it ain’t such a bad gig, is it? Ferrying souls back and forth and so?” He eyed the immortal being on the throne, with his glowing red eyes and his dark hair, raven black, hanging to his shoulders in glistening splendor. He had high prominent cheekbone and a hawk nose, altogether he was the most terrifying and handsome image he had seen all his existence. He feared The Grim would know his thoughts and his lust.

“No, actually it is torment! What I wouldn’t do for rebirth. My soul aches from how long it has had to endure a physical existence without rest. That is part of our punishment.” The reaper said indignantly, turning back around.

The man sighed, “I guess that is where I am headed, to be a reaper. For this is the Judgment and woe to me as the necromancers have been want to say. I didn’t tithe enough. I liked my men too.”

The reaper took a small step away, slowly turned and gave a small, raspy chuckle, “He doesn’t sentence people to be reapers down here but would you mind standing a little farther away, you disgusting bloke. Now, if you will stop letting me know about your nasty habits and listen, my Master is about to pass judgment.”

The Shade turned his attention to the immortal on the basalt throne in the center of the crowded court.