And one, cursed for their betrayal, banished to shadow.

The Theremya sought recompense for their failure eternal.

For the weight of their greatest Sin did weigh heavily,

That sin that broke the world.

-The Book of the Abandonment 2;13-16

The decrepit wooden dock creaked beneath Gardinal’s feet. First Mother keep it whole, he prayed. The last thing Gardinal had wanted was to be back at the Mudport so soon, much less bathe in it. Gardinal grumbled about brothers as he shifted his weight, and he wasn’t thinking of his fellow priests.

His neck felt odd without the weight of the Golden Hammer amulet. And despite the potential danger, he wore no armor. He knew he could not represent his order or faith here. And if he were to commit any violence not in service of either, then he would not wear the regalia of either. With a sigh, he reminded himself that this was for The Prophetess. If Origdall could find something useful, Gardinal could get her back into the temple sooner. Back to safety. He chewed on that for a moment, before reminding himself to stay focused. Looking back to the reason he was here, he felt a familiar unease.

The dock he stood on stretched out into the murky brown water a good sixty paces. It was only wide enough to fit four men abreast, three if Gardinal was among them. The other docks all stood far away. As much as the scum that made port here wanted more points of access, anonymity proved far more important.

Behind him the group of Khazimi, Korek, and Fereni smugglers unloaded large crates of cargo off the small skimmer. Somehow crime brought these disparate peoples together in a way even the Pantheon's temples could not. Perhaps that was a failing on the temples’ part, he thought as a Fereni helped a Khazimi carry a large wooden box. Gardinal was of half a mind to crack open one of those crates, but something told him he didn't want to know. Blasted Origdall, what was that man up to?

“Are you almost done?” he asked. They were taking more than long enough, with several piles of the crates already on the dock. The little ship couldn’t have much more on it. “I don't like this place.”

“No one does.” grunted a Korek smuggler, dropping a huge crate almost the size of Gardinal next to him. The Korek were a burly, imposing people. It had made them good manual laborers. This one was a little too rough looking for Gardinal’s tastes though. Gardinal nodded, the Korek was right. Who could like this wretched place? The whole port reeked to the nine thrones.

“Only a few more crates left. Then we got to get 'em into the warehouse over there.” A Fereni man said, a captain of sorts from his demeanor. He was a handsome man, strong looking body in a tight leather jerkin that left little to the imagination. Gardinal looked to where the captain pointed, back at the base of the dock, a large assemblage of wood scraps roughly shaped like a building. Gardinal grunted, he could hardly see the thing in the dark. The First Mother’s illumination was waning tonight, and he had little more for light than a rusty lantern hanging from a crooked post.

He let his eyes linger on the warehouse. That bloody man was up there somewhere. Vallerian had boasted about being able to shoot a mouse. If the prattling brat had even a sliver of talent with that bow of his, then he would at least prove useful should things turn ugly. Gardinal prayed they wouldn’t.

The sound of footsteps drew his attention back to the docks.

A smattering of unsavory men moved from the shadowed alleys around the warehouses at the base of the dock. Sent’s own luck, Gardinal cursed, looks like the nobleman would have a chance to prove himself after all. He prayed to the Most Merciful that it didn't get too ugly.

“You all stay back.” He commanded the men behind him. The smugglers grunted agreement, seeming happy to not have to risk their lives any more than normal tonight. It wasn’t that he doubted any of their abilities to protect themselves. Very likely every one of them had a dagger or cudgel hidden somewhere on them. But Gardinal had seen enough death in the war, and he would do what he could to keep it out of his city. A bunch of small-time street thugs? Gardinal could handle that himself.

Gardinal walked away from the skimmer, moving towards the wharf proper. A half dozen men strode towards him. From their heights they were all Fereni. A few Fershya could have been among them, but it was hard to tell when it was so dark. Gardinal unclasped his hammer and raised it to his side, his wooden shield strapped to his off-hand. It felt good to have his shield on again.

“It seems you men have found yourselves at the wrong dock. Head on back now.” He called out to the group. They seemed to murmur among themselves for a moment before one of them stepped forward.

“Piss off and make it easy for us Khazimi. Get outta here and no trouble be needed.” The man was slender. And as bare beams of the now distant lantern illuminated the man’s eye, Gardinal caught a hint of sapphire. A Fershya. He could have been a good-looking kid if it wasn't for the dirt and bad attitude.

“Can't be doing that boy. I’m warning you; I don’t want to hurt any of ya.” Gardinal slammed his hammer against his shield, and a few of the men behind the Fershya jumped. They were nervous, good. Gardinal didn’t want to bring these men pain, but he would if he had to. Ethinia forgive him, he would.

The Fershya man blustered, then pointed at Gardinal. “Get him you lazy fools! There’s six of us, he doesn’t stand a chance!” The five men looked to one another, then pulled out shotty clubs and rusted razors. They charged. A few of them called out odd shouts, things like ‘down with the Silver Skulls’ or ‘remember the Red Hand!’ Street gang names? Gardinal didn’t care, he deepened his stance and prepared to fight.

“Don’t fail me now, you bloody lordling.” Gardinal whispered, picturing the smug bastard’s face in his head.

The first man approached faster than the rest. A young Fereni lad with long matted hair charging him with a knife. Approaching, the young man thrusted, throwing all his weight behind an ill-thought-out strike. Gardinal lowered, pushing out his shield against the man’s chest and stepping into the attempted attack. Gardinal tossed the attacker aside with a powerful heave. The boy screamed as he flew into the excrement-filled port water with a gloopy splash. One down.

Gardinal didn’t break stride as two more men approached. One was a beefier sort with a cudgel in hand, his partner short and slender with a… was that an old barber’s razor? Gardinal shook his head, disgraceful. Still, two on one were always dangerous odds. Thankfully the narrow dock proved a useful battleground when those odds were stacked against him. It was something Gardinal had counted on. He had done something similar at a mountain pass in the Shaded Lands.

The large man brought his cudgel down, aiming for Gardinal’s head. Gardinal brought up his shield, batting the cudgel away. Without wasting a moment, Gardinal brought hammer into the man’s outstretched arm. The bone shattered and he howled in agony.

Pulling back, Gardinal felt a sharp pain in his side. Looking down he spotted the slender man kneeling next to him, the man’s razor lodged into Gardinal’s side. Bastard had snuck in while Gardinal had been distracted. Gritting his teeth, Gardinal struck with his hammer. The quick man leapt away just in time, pulling the blade free with a streak of blood. Gardinal lurched, covering his bloody wound with his shield hand.

Looking over, the slender man kept light on his feet, ready to strike. Behind him three more men approached. Not good. Gardinal took a step back but winced at the pain in his side. A dagger wound to the ribs was never good, he would need Celeste after this.

With Gardinal pushed back, two of the three newcomers pulled away the burly man, who was sobbing as he cradled his shattered arm. That left only the quick small man, and the Fershya leader to deal with for now. The Fershya had pulled out a small, rusted dagger.

“The Silver Bitch doesn’t need all of it. Just let us have a few and we’ll let you go easy.” The Fershya said. Gardinal narrowed his eyes. What in the Chaos was Origdall wrapped up in here? Regardless, Gardinal doubted it was a good idea to give these men what they wanted. He would have to ask Origdall about this ‘Silver Bitch.’ First, he needed to get out of this alive. So Gardinal went on the offensive, charging the men.

At the force of Gardinal’s charge the little one jumped back, wary of getting in his way. That left the Fershya leader at his disposal. Gardinal swung low, aiming for the man’s legs. The Fershya stepped back, saving his kneecaps, but was too slow as Gardinal brought the hammer back swinging into the man’s shoulder. A sickening crunch echoed across the murky waters, and the man crumpled in pain.

That was the difference between a trained soldier and a boy with an old dagger, he had found. A real soldier could take a blow and still keep going.

A grunt pulled his attention from the Fershya, as he narrowly dodged a razor strike towards his neck. That little one was a problem. Gardinal spun, swinging his hammer for the man’s side. The man stepped away. This one was too quick, reminding him of a bloody Theremya assassin.

The man’s head exploded as an arrow flew through his mouth and into the wood at Gardinal’s feet. Thick chunks of blood and gore covered Gardinal as he stared at the now dead man. Gardinal had seen plenty of death in his years, and every time it hurt to know that a soul was returning to the Mother. He whispered a funerary prayer, then moved on. The other thugs stared wide eyed at their dead friend, left in shock from the sudden attack.

“C... Carlano...” the Fershya leader mumbled from the ground next to him. “They killed Carlano.” His fist shook as he tried to rise from the ground. The man’s shoulder was a blood-soaked mess beneath his linen shirt.

“Stay down boy.” Gardinal spat. “No one else needs to die!” They stood like idiots, staring at the dead man. These were just kids with no idea what they were getting themselves into. Bloody Chaos, he cursed, people died on the streets all the time he knew, mostly of hunger or disease. But something this violent? It was rare enough to obviously shake the kids. “Get out of here already! You'll only get yourselves killed.” He shouted at the rest of the thugs. They simply stood, eyes staring at their dead companion. Gardinal slammed his hammer against his shield, drawing their attention with a loud crash. “RUN!” He shouted.

An arrow pierced through one of the men’s shoulders, having moved just in time from Gardinal’s warning so it missed his heart. Gardinal thanked Ethinia for that. Still the man spun and dropped to one knee. Gardinal looked up to where the arrow was coming from, he had gotten good at tracking that during the war.

“STOP! THEY’RE JUST KIDS!” Gardinal shouted. He would not let these stupid kids die. He could only imagine The Prophetess, and how she would feel if she looked upon this carnage. Gardinal had killed before in his life, but if he could avoid it, he would. These boys were stupid, but that was not a sin worthy of death.

“Yes, just kids, and what wonderful sacrificed they shall make.” A hissing voice brought Gardinal’s gaze to the base of the docks. A dozen men had congregated at the cobblestone base, flickering torches in hand. They wore black robes with heavy hoods casting their faces in shadow. The cult had arrived. “We'll be taking those crates now Brother Gardinal.” The leader, a tall man with a hood shadowing his face, hissed at him.

The accent was familiar. A Theremya. Of course they would be caught up in this. But what did this cult want with his brother’s cargo? A fine bloody mess this had turned into. Gardinal turned to the smugglers behind him. The men seemed to have stopped unloading to watch the commotion.

“Get the cargo back on your skimmer and get out of here. Whatever it is, I don’t want those bastards getting it." Gardinal commanded them. He didn't have to say it twice as they burst into action.

Gardinal looked to the thugs, they stood back-to-back, two facing Gardinal, and three facing the cultists. The injured ones had been helped to their feet and clung to their cudgels and knives.

“The weapons are ours!” The Fershya shouted. “No hooded freaks or Silver Skulls can have em!” The what? Gardinal thought, no one was trying to steal their... Gardinal didn't have to turn back to understand what they spoke of. Origdall, he thought, he would kill that man when he saw him next.

Behind the men, the hooded Theremya pulled up his sleeve and with a long thumb nail pierced the skin at the crook of his arm. Not good, Gardinal knew what followed these heretics hurting themselves.

“So be it then.” The leader said, blood seeping out as he pulled his nail down the arm to his wrist. “Kill them.” the man hissed. “For our Master X. Kill them all.”

Gardinal readied himself. Some help from Vallerian now would be much appreciated, he thought.

The blood on the man’s arm began to drip, upwards? Gardinal stared at it in shock as it formed into a crimson ball floating in front of him, then lit aflame.

“GET OUT OF THE WAY!” Gardinal shouted at the thugs. Only two of them leapt into the water as the flaming orb exploded into the walkway. The rest of the young men were engulfed in a consuming inferno. Gardinal ground his teeth and stared at the shadowed figures over the now flickering docks. “I've been waiting for a chance at more than just one of ya.” he growled. They answered by striding towards him, unsheathing long thin blades as they moved.

Gardinal charged.