[40th Year of Foresai, Lower Wind Month, Day 30]

In an instant, the front door exploded. Its immolated innards sprayed a cone of shrapnel, shards of white hot wrought iron lacerating the torsos of the two guards who stood watch. Before the pair could realize they were soon to depart the realm of the living, a bolt of foul energy lanced betwixt the doomed men and skewered a third. She was standing behind a small set of iron bars, a coin-to-chip exchange booth she was manning. Nominally, the clientele would not expect her to be more than a pretty face, but Eight Fingers was cunning, and she was an equally competent fighter to the rest. It was thus that the Blue Roses breached the entrance to the gambling den in Re-Alberg.

“Oy Evileye, Laykus, good work!”

Gagaran charged, leaping over the now alight corpses in the entrance way. It was a short hall, no more than a few meters long, and she kicked off the wall to her left, redirecting her momentum to send her pauldron-first into the next panicked goon. Knocking him to the ground, Gagaran found herself on the main floor. Screams and shouts filled the room as patrons abandoned their card games and onsight guards tried to make sense of the chaos of the last few seconds. The man Gagaran had trampled, already concussed, watched as what appeared to be a shard of the nocturn itself sliced open his midsection. The horror and blood loss were too much to bear, and he passed out as a second armored figure passed over him. Lakyus leveled her sword, and released a second dark burst, fouling another wall with the innards of what was now her third mark for the evening.

Gagaran was falling behind, and with a low swing of her warhammer struck the last remaining combatant in the room and claimed her first for the evening. This flung him into the ceiling, his ragdolled body nearly knocking out a support beam. The terror among the customers was palpable, and perhaps it would have bothered lesser women, but the Blue Roses were no strangers to the screams of passerbys. They had no doubt that all those they had so killed had committed crimes beyond mercy. Eight Fingers was a vile enemy, and could be treated without remorse.

Gagaran and Lakyus rushed into the next room, only to find it already cleared. Tia and Tina had simply disguised themselves as clientele, and had sat at a table losing a game of poker in bated anticipation for the violence that was to come. Far from being dazed by the spellburst, they had used it as a starting gun to fling kunais at all the targets they had identified. Laykus clocked an additional six dead.

“Fifteen seconds. We’ve lost the element of surprise.”

Evileye’s voice rang in the heads of all four Blue Roses, product of communication magic that she had cast upon them. Her contribution had been the initial salvo of spellbombs, and now she circled the building, seeking to catch any foolish enough to escape at street level. Her proclamation was met with no shock. Eight Fingers fighters would now be able to rally, for they were competent warriors. The first of this counter attack was directed at Lakyus, her narrowly dodging a crossbow bolt that had slipped between her floating blades. They blocked the second and third, and Gagaran charged to the new shooters. An overhead swing caught one in the neck, bouncing his head off the door frame under which he stood. Tia vaulted over her, driving her knife through the eye socket of the crossbowman, somersaulting off of her kill to release another two Kunais at the feeling third. She clicked her tongue as she missed.

They had fought their way to the backrooms of the establishment, and this would be far more difficult to fight through up till now. The corridors were thin, and Gagaran could not have stood abreast with any other member of the Blue Roses and fit. It was time for close quarters combat, and she elected to let Tia, Tina, and Lakyus handle the following engagement. She would watch the rear, making sure no stragglers would attempt to flank from this angle.

“Get the hell out of here!”

With her yell, the last remaining of the gamblers hiding under card tables fled to the front entrance, desperate to avoid the death that had been so thickly laced in the air around them. Lakyus slipped past her, and quickly took position as vanguard. Rounding the corner, she swiftly cut down a knife wielding woman sprinting towards her. Lifting her gaze, her eyes widened as she saw the last scrap of a piece of parchment consuming itself in a blue flame. Too swift to physically react, her mind issued a mental command to her floating blades to interpose themselves between her and the imminent danger. As the fire consumed the last vestige of the scroll, the spell that had been inscribed on it forced its way into existence, a fireball shot at untraceable speed down the hallway. The floating blades absorbed the impact and saved Lakyus’s life, and two of them fell to the ground slagged, along with most of the hallway around her. Had they been fighting in an open space, this would have not carried consequence, but this den was in the basement of a two story structure, and those were load bearing walls.

Lakyus heard a sickening snap of the beam above her and in a second moment of instant judgment dove forward, pulling her legs into her torso fast enough to avoid them being crushed under the weight of debris.

“There was an explosion and a partial collapse. Report status.”

A ghost of Evileye’s words appeared in her ears, the fruit of a message spell. Looking back, Lakyus realized she was cut off.

“I’m uninjured, cut off from the rest of the group. Will continue through the office space alone. Tell the rest to circle around and try and find another way in.”

“Affirmative.”

Lakyus quickly returned an answer to Evileye, assuring her that she was ok. Evileye’s voice in her head never switched from her cold monotone delivery. It was seemingly uncaring, and Lakyus knew not to be bothered by her battle-speak.

I’ll have to clear through the rest of this myself. I can’t believe they were willing to use such an explosion in the basement! How suicidal are these bastards?

—

Evileye was lazily circling the building. She was bored. The collapse had caught her interest, but that quickly waned when she realized she needn’t intervene. Her job was just to catch stragglers, and that was simply tedious. She was hovering two stories above the ground, casting her gaze around the building. It was a misty day, the sun not having the strength to crack the cloud cover and burn away the white sea permeating the ground. Her ears caught a clanging, the sound of boots striking metal.

Oh? It’s coming from under that sewer grate.

She drifted over, rising to three stories off the ground and floating directly over the grate. This was in itself a luxury. Re-Alberg was a progressive township, if only for its proximity to the city states across the northern border. Trade had forced a degree of technological and civil competence onto Re-Alberg, and it possessed underground plumbing infrastructure. This was a rarity in the kingdom, and Evileye considered this idly. The grate popped open, and she spied a pair of Eight Fingers skulks doing their best to escape, fouled by the sewage they had just passed through.

“Acid-Arrow”

A sliver of green solvent shot from the tip of her finger, striking the lead woman. The arcane substance splattered her face, splashing into her eyes, nose, and mouth. Her agonizing scream was blood curdling to what gawkers and onlookers had braved the street after hearing the breaching explosion, and many of them ran in fear. Her face liquifying, her grip on the ladder slackened and released, and she fell, taking her fellow woman with her. Evileye felt nothing but a hollow twinge of guilt at this end, but couldn’t muster a true regret for her actions.

I should finish them off.

She descended, gently setting down on the ground. Crouching, she grabbed the sewer grate, and with strength exceeding what should have been possible for her size, lifted it easily.

“Greater Heat Metal.”

“Maximize Magic - Psychic Torque.”

The cover in her hand quickly heated, ascending from its nominal appearance to a low red glow, to a frightening and burning iridescence. At the same time, it began to twist, curling into a crude swirl. At this deformation, it was now thin enough to be dropped into the hole. Seemingly impervious to the heat, Evileye was satisfied with her work, and released the now white hot slug. Two seconds passed before the sickening echo of impact came out of the sewer-hole, swiftly followed by additional screams. The smells of burnt flesh, human waste, and the metallic tinge of alchemical reagents were carried up by some of the steam created.

Disgusting.

A door to her left was flung open, and a trio of fleeing enforcers burst out, trying their best to flee into the gloom.

“Scourge”

“Ice-bolt”

“Lesser Annihilation”

Three more corpses fell upon the street. Evileye was starting to get a little hungry.

—

Lakyus slowly lifted herself off the ground. She looked down the hallway that the blast had shot forth from. It was a T-junction, and she found herself apprehensive.

Someone activated that scroll and bolted. Why haven’t they followed up with another attack? They must be waiting around one of those corners, waiting to unleash a second ambush. They probably have additional spell scrolls. Dammit.

Lakyus moved slowly up the hallway, doing her best to stay silent. Between the chaos and creaking of the building, and whatever combat the rest of the group was entangled in, there was enough ambient noise to cover her advance. Now only a yard from the junction, she crouched into a waiting stance.

Why not unleash the shadow beasts in Kilineiram? No, no I can’t do that. But they’ll kill the men around the corner, and end this fight before it begins. Gods what am I thinking? It’ll be near impossible to imprison them once they’re free. Who could guess at the damage they could do?

Lakyus fought herself. Her blade Kilineiram had formed from the steady sublimation of negative energy. Thus had shadow demons, greedy for its power, been drawn forth to seize its glory. They had found themselves powerless in the face of its hunger, and against their panicked exertions had been dragged into the gemstone in its core, where they were now stuck. Lakyus had learned of this through the strenuous process of attunement, and now kept it a closely guarded secret. There was no record of the Black Knight ever wielding this power of Kilineiram, nor was there even a hint of its existence in the codex of his adventures. Lakyus, by her reckoning, was the only person alive who knew of this property of the blade, and kept it as a desperate and final defense. To her, to loose them now would not only squander them, but embarrass herself.

She resolved herself to deal with this another way. Commanding two of her four floating blades, she leveled them in front of her. Readying herself, she lowered herself in a crouch, building explosive power in her calves.

Three, two, one.

She shot forward, and at the same time ordered the two blades to attack. This was a blind corner, so she had to dumb-fire both. The blades rocketing forward crossed paths and jetted down both the left and right sides of the junction. Running into the hallway, she hoped her blades had skewered the scroll-bearer. She hazarded a guess and emerged into the junction looking left. She guessed wrong, and the left-borne blade had embedded itself in the wall at the far end. Extraining her body as much as she could, she twitched her head right to catch a glimpse of two men; one of which was impaled, blood pouring out of his mouth. Gripped in his dexter hand was a second scroll, and the uninjured man to the left was desperately trying to grab one out of his soon-to-die compatriot’s pouch. Lakyus ended his struggle with a third flying blade, severing his throat.

Watching him slump to the ground, Lakyus felt a sharp and agonizing pain in her left forearm. To her shock, a crossbow bolt had embedded itself inside of her, and she felt her skin wet as hot blood spilled from the wound. Her fast reflexes saved her from a second bolt, interposing Kilineiram in time to deflect the second bolt.

This was the bastard that got away the first time. I need to close this distance now!

Lakyus dashed to the shooter, who was using some sort of tri-shot crossbow. Pulling the trigger, he shot the third and final loaded dart. He shot wide. Lakyus disappeared the five meter gap between, and by pinning him to the wall with Kilineiram made that the last shot he would ever make. Shooting her gaze to her right, she saw that the hallway ahead was clear, and started evaluating her arm. It was limp, and difficult to move. Lakyus began to feel woozy, vitality fonting from her wound. A mote of knowledge flashed in her brain, a latent boon of her God warning her of danger; something was moving through her body.

That dart was poisoned

She felt herself lose strength, and started to slip downward. Bracing herself against the wall she had just lodged her sword into, she tried but could not stop herself from falling downward

This is bad.

She hit the ground with a thud, her legs splayed out and her back against the wall. Her right hand still had some vigor, and she wrapped it around a symbol of water. Snapping the cord that held it in place, she brought it to her mouth with what little vitality she had remaining, and began to speak.

“He of the Hallowed Depths, I beg by the side of your waters to hear my supplications and to render me unto deliverance.”

The loss of blood was starting to drag her consciousness, slowing her thoughts. Her mind felt like it was moving through sludge.

“He of the Steam and the Salt, render unto me your purity and banish all that you find baleful in the gale of gaze.

Her blood purified the poison, burning away the taint in the light of the divine. She reached over and wrenched the bolt from her body, tossing it against the ground.

“He of the Still Mere, render unto me your aid and a flushing of my wounds.”

Luminance spread from the crevice that the bolt had dug into her arm, the blood that had poured out and dried suddenly turned to water, falling against the ground.

“He of the Raincloud, render unto me a rejoining of the flesh and a union of vitalities anew.”

Half consciously, she let her hand fall. An extreme warmth followed as her wound began to knit itself back together. Between her prayers for purification and healing, she had bought herself out of a foolish end. She sat there and pulled in a few desperate gasps, her breathing growing stronger with each cycle of air in and out of her lungs.

“He of the Clearwater, I thank you for the deliverance which you have given. I leave the side of your waters now, but I bear your name and your symbol until I find a fate of salt and sand.”

That was a close call. Still, I need to move now. Reinforcements could arrive at any second.

Lakyus used the last free floating blade to pull herself off the ground. She stood - itself a feat in its own right - but was sapped of much of her ability. She was subsumed in lethargy, the lost blood and remaining poison still taking their toll on her fighting ability. The flow of not blood, but water leaking from her wound began to bay, the hole in her forearm sealing. Still, she knew that to rest now would be a stupid and lethal mistake. She tried to tally the Eight Fingers casualties in her mind.

Seven- no, eighteen dead. There can’t be many left on sight, if they haven’t fled already.

She advanced slowly, methodically placing one foot after the other. This was less out of care and more out of need. She would not have been able to stand otherwise. She passed a set of three small offices, each of them empty. At the end of the hallway was a fourth door, closed. Mentally summoning her blades, she arrayed them aimed at the latch on the door.

Even though this door is wooden, breaching the first was so much easier with Evileye’s incantation. She possesses such raw power, or maybe I should call it refined power.

She released the blades, all four striking simultaneously, nearly ripping the door from its hinges. There was one man inside, clearly surprised to see Lakyus shattering his defense so swiftly. Lakyus ran into the room, and in a critical blunder, stumbled on a fine carpet, losing her grip on Kilineiram.

Shit!

This was a near fatal error, and she caught herself with her torso on the one desk in the room, nearly knocking the wind out of her. The room was small, and guaranteed a close melee. The man stabbed at her with a dagger, Lakyus rolling out of the way and avoiding its tip. He stabbed a second time, this time in an overhead swing, Lakyus catching his wrist. He was strong, and pushed her down onto the desk, her back pressed against its finely polished surface. With his free hand, he punched her in the face, spilling more of her blood onto the papers scattered around the desk, her left arm too weak to block the strike.

She kicked at his shins, and as he reeled from the pain pushed him off her. One-handed, she started to choke him, pressing him against the wall, and ordered her blades to loose themselves from the door. He realized what was happening, and desperately tried to stab at her. He missed. First one, then two, then the rest of the blades flew from the door, and the man had his side turned into a pin cushion. Slumping, he was dead.

Lakyus breathed heavily, and cast her gaze to the desk. An inkwell had been knocked over, and the ichor it had contained mixed with her blood. Sitting on the page was a book, opened to an incomplete page.

It looks like a ledger. He must have been working on it when we struck, and did not have the wherewithal to close it.

She looked it over lazily at first, then more precisely as she realized what it contained. Flipping it around such that the lettering was rightside up to her, her eyes widened in shock.