Giselle stood outside the warehouse the address on the slip of paper led her to, tapping her foot. She was not a particularly patient woman, and this stupid cult was pushing on her last nerves. Lara had better pull through with this or she would have some choice words with the librarian tomorrow morning.

A small shadow darted across the rooftop of the building across the road from her. Giselle offered the imp a passing glance before rolling her eyes. The stupid things were not nearly as sneaky as they thought they were. Surely this was one of Amarth’s, watching her and reporting back to the Demon Lord. She flashed a rude hand signal toward the imp. Let it take that back to Amarth.

How some warlocks chose to pact with an imp was completely beyond her. The mana increase was negligible at best, plus, imps had a way of making themselves known to everyone around them at the worst times. More warlocks had probably been killed by the arrival of their pacted imp at the worst possible time than anything else. Could you blame a girl for trying for something bigger?

Anyways, if you really wanted an imp, pact with a Greater Demon and bargain for one of theirs. Giselle shook her head. It was amazing how little people thought ahead when they tried to become a warlock. It was what gave the whole damned thing a bad name.

Looking out towards the west, the last bit of light from the sun had fallen below the horizon. Figuring it was soon enough for her purposes, Giselle knocked at the small door leading into the warehouse again. She had tried when she got there, but no one had answered. There hadn't even been a sound from inside, she could hear the knock echoing through the building.

Several seconds passed after she knocked, and Giselle felt that familiar anger bubbling in her. Damned waste of time, stupid cultists and their ridiculous-

A small window slid open, about chest height for a normal human and just above Giselle. One beady eye, glinting malevolently from some unseen torch inside, glared down at her.

“Sun rises and darkness falls,” Giselle said. The eye squinted at her, then the small window slid shut. Several more seconds passed, prodding Giselle’s anger further, before the door finally swung in noiselessly.

Giselle stepped into the warehouse, unsure of what to expect.

The man who had opened the door was just about what she expected. He was hunched over, a large hump on his back pushing his head and shoulders forward to the height of his window. Thin, ratty blonde hair hung in clumps from a mostly bald head while his single eye regarding her. He had a perpetual frown, one side of his mouth hanging open slightly and a small bit of spittle collecting there.

He pushed the door shut behind her as she stepped through. She was in a surprisingly small room, given the apparent size of the building from the outside. Crates and wooden boxes were stacked haphazardly, some making towers several times taller than herself. Taking a step forward into the gloom, the smell of stale air hit her. It was entirely unpleasant, just like a room in a home that hadn't been opened in decades.

Turning back, she saw the strange, ratty man had appeared behind her, his one eye never blinking as it watched her.

“Lara sent for me,” Giselle said. The man grunted and started moving towards a large box that had collapsed from a nearby tower, leaning against it slightly. He grabbed the front of the box and started pulling. After several tugs, and more strange grunts, the front of the box peeled away.

He stepped back, huffing slightly, the corner of his mouth bubbling with spit, then motioned for her to climb in.

Giselle eyed him. “Are you serious? Like I'm going to crawl into some coffin in a warehouse with a man who can't do more than stare and grunt at me?”

He nodded his head towards the opening and grunted again, one eyebrow furrowing. Unfortunately for him, it was the one over the empty socket instead of the eye. Giselle narrowed her eyes at him and moved forward slowly. He made no sudden moves, and even stepped back from the box a bit.

Peering inside, Giselle saw that it was not a box at all, but a cover for a stairwell leading down, underneath the warehouse.

“Hmm?” The man had appeared behind her again, making an appeasing grunt as far as she could tell. He looked almost happy? Nodding again down the stairwell, she turned from him and slowly descended. There was a scraping sound behind her as the man shut the makeshift door, plunging her into darkness.

“Well isn't that just grand,” Giselle mumbled, standing on the stairs she couldn't even see. After a few moments, her eyes adjusted to the darkness and she spotted a very faint light deeper into the stairwell. Holding one hand to the wall beside her, Giselle took the stairs carefully, feeling for one at a time as she descended.

After several minutes, as far she could tell at least, it was hard to keep track of time in the darkness while moving so slowly each step made you angrier and angrier, Giselle reached the bottom of the stairs. A small hallway, lit by a single torch stood in front of her. She walked down it, coming around a corner into a large stone room, lit by several torches hanging on the walls and a large chandelier made of what seemed to be bones. She frowned appreciatively, this was much more impressive now. With a quick sniff, she noticed the stale smell was gone too. Maybe it was just the grungy man?

In the room was a ring of figures clad in rich purple robes, hoods drawn so far over their heads, she could only make out shadows where their faces should be. At the bottom of the robes ran a rich red color, what an artist might imagine blood looked like if they had never seen it before. As her lights adjusted more to the flickering light, she saw the same red was woven up the front of the robes in some intricate pattern. With a small start, she realized it was the same spear and circle the Lara had shown her as her pendant.

The group of hooded figures did not so much as glance at Giselle as she entered. Even as she stood there, they remained silent, heads bowed, not even a brush of fabric as someone shifted. If she didn't know any better, she would've thought they were all asleep, standing in a circle.

Giselle coughed, softly into her hands. No one moved. She tried clearing her throat, but still not a figure moved. Taking a deep breath, she coughed loudly into her hand, the sound echoing in the stone chamber. This time several of the figures did look up slightly, but only to show disapproving frowns at her.

“Giselle,” her name was whispered. The gnome whipped around and found another hooded figure in the shadows of another hallway, right next to the one she had come out of.

“Giselle,” the figure hissed again, beckoning her to come over. With a glance back towards the circle of people, who had turned back to their solemn silent stance, she walked towards this new figure. AS she approached, she saw it was Lara, smiling beneath her heavy hood.

“I’m glad you could make it,” Lara said, turning to walk down this new hallway.

“What's going on back there,” Giselle motioned towards the other people.

“Just a welcoming rite. Every meeting the elders perform the rite to welcome Larnath and his Spear.”

Giselle felt a flutter of guilt at interrupting, but quickly squashed it. This whole thing was still silly. “Why are they doing that?”

Lara gave her a slightly confused look, like one would give to a child who asked a simple question that everyone else innately knew. She did not answer though, and the hallway ended in another stone room.

This room was similar to the last, but furnished with surprisingly nice furniture. Overstuffed chairs and couches were spread around, forming a very loose half circle around a fire blazing in the hearth at the far end.

“Feel free to sit anywhere you’d like, the elders will be done with their welcome soon and join us. Care for a snack or drink?” Lara pointed to a pair of desks along one of the walls, stacked with pastries, slices of various meats, and cheese. Next to the trays of food were carafes holding several different drinks.

“I’m all right,” Giselle said. “Thank you, though.” No reason to be totally impolite. She took a seat on one of the couches nearer to the fire, with its face turned toward the hallways they’d just come in. Never put your back to the only exit, something her mother had always taught her. She’d never found herself in a situation where that advice actually proved useful, but now didn't seem the time to eschew it.

Lara took the spot next to her on the couch, sitting with a small sigh. They sat in silence for a few moments, neither saying anything. Giselle slumped back on the couch, letting the cushions morph around her like some bizarre beginning to a cocoon. Lara sat, back straight, on the edge of the couch. Her foot bounced as she did and the librarian kept chewing at her fingernails.

“Something wrong?” Giselle asked. Lara shook her head, still chewing a fingernail. After a few seconds, she turned to Giselle.

“Not wrong, really, I've just never done this.”

Giselle sat up a little. “Never done what? Been to one of these meetings? Did you invite me to a cult that you haven't even been to?”

“No, no, I’ve been to plenty of these meetings. I’ve been a part of this order, not cult, for a bit over two years now. I’ve never actually brought a new person in to see if they can join.”

“Oh, that's not an issue then,” Giselle relaxed again. “Are new people brought here very often?”

“Hmm,” Lara tapped her chin. “Since I’ve joined we’ve had only six other people brought to join, and two of them actually stayed. One is actually one of the elders now. He was particularly zealous in his worship of Larnath and discovering the Spear.”

“Does everyone worship Larnath? Who was he, exactly?”

“He was part of the Great Trio of Seraphim,” a deep voice rumbled from the entrance to the room. A tall man, bald with a long brown beard that went to the middle of his chest, stood there. He walked in and several other figures, now devoid of their hoods, came in after him.

“And who is this, Sister Lara?” the bearded man asked. Lara jumped to her feet, her leg still tapping. Her hand went to her mouth, but she managed to avoid chewing the nails, pushing it back and smoothing her robes.

“Elder Davit,” Lara bowed. “This is Giselle. I discovered her in the library, looking for clues about the Spear of Larnath. After talking to her, I felt she would be a valuable addition to our order.”

“Did you?” Davit raised an eyebrow. His voice was low and nearly musical in quality, the kind of voice that hypnotizes you into agreeing with what he was saying. If he decided to take to the streets and preach for any sort of change in the world, he would be a dangerous force indeed.

“And what,” he kneeled down, coming eye to eye with Giselle. “Sort of information were you looking for?”

She found herself sitting up straighter in his presence without even thinking about it. Cursing inwardly, she met his gaze and tried to seem as aloof as she could. “Where to find it, mainly.”

Davit’s other eyebrow joined the first, high on his forehead. His voice was barely a murmur now. “Why do you need to find the Spear of Larnath, Giselle of the library? What function could you be intending to use this wondrous weapon, cleaver of ten thousand demons spirits and savior of our world from the Great Cataclysm?”

Giselle kept her gaze level with his. His eyes were the same brown as his beard, deep and murky. There was a fire in them, one she had recognized in some of the paladins she met on her travels.

“To kill a demon.”

Davit’s face softened slightly. “To kill a demon?” He stood back up and began walking slowly between the furniture, among his fellow elders.

“Do you understand the nature of this weapon? Killing one demon is hardly a task that warrants a spear, so elegantly designed and created, one that will kill a demon not only from our realm, but from all realms, permanently.”

He turned back towards her, the slightest bit of contempt showing on his face. “That seems a selfish reason to hunt for one of the greatest creations bestowed upon us by the highest of Seraphim, wouldn't you agree, Giselle of the library?”

Knowing he was trying to fish for the truth out of her, Giselle decided to take a gamble. She could give him the truth. Or at least, part of the truth.

“I’m going to use it to kill Amarth.”

Davit’s face twitched slightly, but otherwise he held his composure. The Elders around him were not so subtle. Several of their hands covered their mouths and a couple even gasped. Lara joined the gasping next to Giselle, her eyes growing wide.

“Elder Davit,” Lara said quickly. “I had no idea that's what she intended to do with the Spear. When we met she said nothing of the kinr or I wouldn't have-”

Davit held up a hand, cutting her off. Silence filled the room as he regarded Giselle.

“I sense a great power dwelling within you, Giselle. Perhaps something not entirely of your own making, even.”

Giselle said nothing, focusing on keeping this man's gaze.

“I think your fire and straightforwardness will be a great boon to our order. We would love to bring you in to help us discover the Spear and bring about the righteous crusade it was meant for.”

Lara let out a long sigh, the tension leaving the room with it. Davit smiled at Giselle, but it did not seem entirely honest to her. He still had that fire in his eyes, that zealous belief that his cause was truly the correct one. He was a bit too smart for her taste as well. What did he mean by the power he said he saw, he couldn't possibly have known her connection to the Demon Lord, could he?

“Thank you Elder Davit,” Giselle said, giving him a small nod. “When do we find the Spear?”

“Soon, my child, soon,” he said smoothly. “But first, we need to tell you of the Grand Plan and what the Order of the Spear of Larnath truly means.”