"Damn, even though you goofed the first bit, you really know your stuff," Laffer whistles, seeing the rising flames that followed a large detonation.

"Well yes, I do indeed pride myself on myself on random trivial knowledge," And to think people told me knowing where to find a gas pipe was useless. What a bunch of suckers! "So, whilst I did your job for you, did you find anything good?"

Mhm, when I replaced one of the invitees and entered the soirée, Laffer was tasked with first and foremost, saving my ass and secondly, finding actual proof that these guys were actually behind the increased drug activities. I don't know why he was so insistent on reporting these guys, but I'm not going to question it.

He digs his hands into his pockets and averts his gaze. Now that I think about it, I shouldn't have even asked knowing that he wouldn't be getting anything of worth.

"Wills, my friend, did you get anything good?" I say, not expecting much.

"Jeffrey, do you diminish me so?" He grins, "Of course I got something good!"

He presents a couple glass bottles of liquor. And not the cheap kind you'd find in a tavern, but the fancy kind, aged well, and vintage. Something that is most certainly not accessible to the public.

"MAh man! You know what's up!" I wrap an arm around his shoulder. It's been a while since I last had a drink.

…

"Are you alright, madame Sandrine?"

A concerned sharpsword asked.

"My my, of course," A tall lady answered in a tender voice. He obviously didn’t know he was talking to a rather strong Golden Mind ranked individual. Her chalky, wide brimmed hat covered her eyes and supple figure gave the look of a frail mistress.

It was at these words that the sharpsword wiped his brow in relief. It would hurt his soul if such a bewitching songstress were to be harmed under his watch. After all, she was his queen, someone he would never defy. She was his matre.

Glazing her eye at the ruins of the manor, or more specifically the soirée venue, a frown crept on her face, much to the dismay of the young sharpsword.

"Is something wrong, madame?"

She ignores him, more focused on the series of events that just transpired. A large portion of the Mirjam compound lay crumbled with their patriarch and a majority of their familia deceased. Looking over the bodies being dug out of the rubble by nearby authorities, she knew no one below Steel rank could survive that. Those attendees are most certainly dead.

Putting those thoughts aside for a moment, she focused on the culprits of this incident. The heretics. It had to be them, those arts couldn't be faked, not when she witnessed such savoir faire first hand. It was definitely them. And thinking on this fact made her heart tremble.

Their origins are said to date back to the kindle of civilization and the establishment of the first nations. An order unwavering in times of change, and ruthless among the contemporary. The single most enemy of all peoples, whether they be the vilest of scum or the most righteous braves, everyone was an adversary to the heretics.

However, despite being the common enemy of the realm, not much was actually known about the cult, not even their true heading. Different places call them differently, but they are generally known as the heretics, or sometimes, the dark arts cult, which even then, vary in most areas. The only consistent, identifiable fact known about them is their use of the dark arts and even then, nobody really knew what the dark arts legitimately are, besides that it was extremely versatile and good for genocide and mass murder. None have been able to decipher these arts, and information of their internal organisational structure is absent as spies have never been able to infiltrate them before.

It just went to show how mysterious and dangerous this group of people were. Their secrecy has always been kept since ancient times, and their practice runs through time immemorial. Their goal? Unknown, besides the fact they randomly create chaos and reap death wherever they show for no apparent reason.

It is to such an extent, some scholars jest that even the heretics themselves didn't know what their cause really was. However, despite what the world thought, such a jest held a great deal of truth. Most of these 'cultists' have zero clue as to what the actual hell they're supposed to be doing, but to the eyes of the world, every action undertaken is a step toward a big picture. A grand plan that none are privy to.

"As expected of the dark arts cult," And like many others, Matre Caedis, despite fundamentally being at odds with the dark arts cult, deeply respected them. As a cultist herself, she found it admirable the strength and resolve each of their individual members displayed as well as their unerring organisation structure. It was something profoundly imprinted in her, and something that she deeply desired her own cult to be analogous to. When comparing the two, she couldn't help but feel a bit dispirited.

"Why can't I have such competent kin?" Indeed, compared to the heretics, her own blood cult would always seem to be lacking.

After all, the heretics were capable of remaining hidden for countless years, even after causing realm shaking phenomenons like the rending of the Northern Dragon's Den or the fall of the Great Beast Empire of Svol. It is well known that the dark arts cult never establish any one location as a main base camp, or perhaps they have, and none are aware.

But that's beside the point, despite having such loosely scattered forces around the realm, none have been able to beat back their unholy crusades, something that astounds scholars of contemporary times. After all, it goes against all common belief and philosophy as to how such thin spread forces could achieve so much. Logic dictates that the most they could accomplish, was to be a common nuisance, however, their achievements say otherwise, each of them of mythical status. There is also the fact that despite being extremely active across the six continents, no one has been able to grasp their inner machinations nor the basic principles of their arts.

"Why did they attack the Mirjam family?" Eventually, this thought chain went full circle. Why did the cult do what they did?

In her opinion, the family didn't have anything that the dark arts cultists could possibly want nor did there seem to be anyone of importance here so this seemed totally random but how could that be?

The dark arts cult never does anything without rhyme or reason, there must be a motive of some kind. And after piecing the dots together, her pupils constricted.

"They know about us!?"

Indeed, there can only be one reason why the heretics attacked the Mirjam family. It was a warning. A warning to the blood cult that they own the place.

'Want to come into our territory and do what you want? Bah, pathetic. You try anything else and we'll be back.'

Was the subtle message sent, and matre Caedis nearly overlooked that. That would have been bad, not just for herself, but also for her kin.

"Sigh, I can't believe I actually underestimated them," How could she be so foolish? If only she hadn't rushed things, for the traces were all there, yet she overlooked them. Trying to develop an armed force right under the nose of the dark arts cult? She'd be better off crushing her soul than try something so brazen.

She had planned for nights on her infiltration into the Mirjam family to use her ability as a matre of the blood race to entrap and hypnotise the members of tonight's soirée as well as the Mirjam family and affiliate them with the blood cult, thus creating a firm beachhead in Joost.

However, in hindsight, such an act was foolish to the utmost degree. To contest against the dark arts cult, without the most thorough and cogitated plans would be nothing short of filicide.

It was only natural that the dark arts cultists were aware that we were scouting these people and killed them preemptively. As to be expected of the most domineering cult in the realm, capable of even making whole powerhouse nations bleed.

Yet again, a newfound sense of esteem and pride welled up in matre Caedis.

The dark arts cult truly is the finest cult there is. A true big sister like role model. She mused. They truly represented the ideal when one pictured the word 'cult'. Even if they worshipped no gods, the whole reason for the establishment of sects and cults is to go against the orthodox, to go to an extreme. And the dark arts cult has done just that, and they excelled at it. They were the poster child of all cults, despite the deep grievances between them, and they were the cautionary tales told to misbehaving children.

Truly distingué.

However, she quickly pushed those thoughts out of her head, despite how much she fawned and idolised the dark arts cult, they were enemies. And they would always be. The dark arts cult, after all, held extreme prejudice toward most races, and that included the blood race. Yet another merit the cult displayed, a radical doctrine, unbending even in the changing of times.

"What to do?" She brooded. Should she withdraw from Joost? With the forces on hand, there was no way she could stand against the cult, so this would be the correct course of action. In fact, even if she fled back and stood trial in front of the other matres, they wouldn't even blame her. Truth be told, she would even be commended for discovering the location of a dark arts cult branch and successfully withdrawing without any casualties. After all, on usual days, the cult was ruthless against those that worshipped gods.

She mulled it over. The choice was appealing, but doing so would only leave a bitter taste in her mouth.

After calling for the grace of the blood god, how could she flee now? That would utterly humiliate the will of the blood god.

Therefore, maugre her own rational thought, she decided. The cult stays. They will fight to the end and show their best face when the dark arts cult shows up once more.

They would pull out all stops, reveal their best cards, and bend over backwards to put forward the best show they could.

Perhaps, that might impress the immemorial cult of dark arts. She thought giving a fawning smile, a red hue dying her exquisitely pale face.