“Please, j-just leave me alone!” Tears ran down the guard’s whimpering face, mixing with the blood dripping from his split lip. Sprawled in the dirt, back to the crumbling wall, the guard nursed his mangled knees. Fresh blood mottled the deep crimson of his surcoat, the twirling doves bleached in the spilt life.

Talon crouched down, the sharpness of his stare sending a shiver down the sentry’s spine. Using his thumb to wipe away the blood that had splattered on his cheek, he ran it against the guard’s twisted leg. “I’m going to ask again.” Standing back up, Talon grabbed the guard’s right arm, tugging on it, placing a foot on his shoulder to keep it rigid. “Where’s Viktor?”

“I don’t know!”

Clicking his tongue, the adventurer began twisting the guard’s arm, forcing it straight, his other hand applying pressure to the tautened elbow. “Where’s Viktor?”

The guard smacked his left hand against the ground, fighting through the pain with gritted teeth. “I don’t know.” He screamed, the sharp exertion covering the snapping of his tendons as Talon smashed his elbow, leaving the arm useless.

Sliding his hand over the guard’s, Talon took hold of the man’s first finger between his own. “Where’s Viktor?”

Weeping, the guard refused to answer, shaking his head as tears and snot ran over his lips.

Sighing, Talon bent the guard’s finger back, listening for the harsh crack. He waited for the guard to quiet down before asking again. “Where?”

Hard, raspy breaths escaped from their lips, the guard’s eyes wide as he tried to regain himself. “I… he… I don’t… I don’t know.”

Talon frowned. “He?”

“No! I-I don’t know what y-you’re talking about!” The guard’s eyes dilated, mental barriers faltering against the physical pain.

Huffing, Talon took hold of the guard’s thumb. Knowing that asking now wouldn’t matter, he didn’t threaten. The tendons snapped, and the guard hiccuped, his teeth clamped together in an attempt to hide the burning agony. Without waiting for him to regain his composure, Talon snapped the middle digit, and then the ring, finishing off with the pinky. Each broken finger led to another pained yelp, and when the man collapsed on his side, Talon finally stopped. “Where. Is. Viktor?”

“Please… I don’t… I can’t…” He stopped, feeling the warmth of Talon’s leather gloves, the cold edge of his gauntlets brushing his skin, hands pressed against the sides of his head.

“You’re pitiful, you know that? Falling to the mind-control of a failed magic-slinger. Though, it’s not really his magic, but I doubt you know much about that.” Talon moved his left thumb next to the guard’s eye, the sharpened tip of his gauntlet held threateningly still next to the quivering, gelatinous orb.

“W-what are you-”

“All it takes is to overload the brain with pain so that it overrides the caster’s control. Unfortunately for you, your body’s resilient, and you have a high tolerance for pain. For a mercenary, you were trained quite well, sorry to say.”

With his still-working hand, the guard tried desperately to claw at the adventurer’s arm. The effort was wasted, as he’d already lost too much strength to even budge the silver-haired man. “Wait. No! PLEASE!”

Talon didn’t hesitate, nor did he look away, feeling no sympathy or disgust as he pushed down.

Having a few minutes, maybe more, before the guard was back to his senses, Talon took this chance to wipe the blood from his gauntlets, most of which had collected at the knuckles, a few specks staining his face. “Damn. Going to be difficult to hide all this.” He looked around the alleyway, appreciating the solitude it afforded him. In such a derelict spot, so far into the depths of the labyrinthine city, the chances of being found were low.

Especially with the regular townsfolk keeping a wide berth, after the disappearance of so many undesirables.

A fitting spot, Talon thought.

Within the minute, the screams had faded into hoarse whimpers, but it took another ten before the half-blinded guard was able to think straight enough to talk.

Crouching back down, Talon draped his arms over his legs. Cocking his head to the side to get a better view of the blood-stained face, the guard’s unbent hand gripped over his new cavity. “Ready to talk?”

The guard took slow, shallow breaths as he looked up at Talon with a tired, hateful eye. “Y-yes,” he croaked, shifting back up to a sitting position, grunting all the while.

“Where’s Viktor?”

“He’s... made himself… a good spot… in… the Citadel. Next… to the Duke.” Every word was a struggle for the exhausted guard, his eye unfocused as he tried to keep contact with Talon’s shimmering blues. “You’ll never… make it… to him.”

“We’ll see.” Talon glanced down at the ground for a moment before looking back up, both his eyes locked on the guard’s intact orb. “Thanks for the information.”

The guard nodded, his mind so out of it that he seemed to forget the pain he’d been inflicted only moments ago. “Tired. Need… to rest.”

The adventurer sighed, pushing himself back to his full height. Looking him over, Talon knew that he would die without immediate medical attention. However, carrying him through the crowded streets to a herbalist or healer would risk his discovery and possible arrest. He unsheathed his dagger, biting his quivering lip.

Talon put the edge of his knife to the guard’s neck, his helmet already tossed to the side after their initial scuffle. A quick slice through the unconscious man’s throat, and he died.

Wiping the blood off on the corpse’s pants, the rogue sheathed his blade. Pushing himself to his feet, Talon walked away, back through the maze that was Marbleton, back towards the inn, where Selora and Torden were probably fretting over his long absence. He snorted at the thought.

Looking towards the afternoon sky, he spotted the Citadel, its peeking tip framed by the light of the setting sun.

“So pitiful… just like us.”

* * *

The scent of smoked ham and buttered bread wafted into Talon’s nose as he slipped back into the Flying Bear, giving a slight nod in the barkeeper’s direction. Avoiding eye contact with the muddled patrons seated throughout the spattering of tables, Talon made his way up the creaking stairs towards his shared room.

Opening the door, the rogue caught the sight of Selora pacing back and forth around the room. Torden sat at the little, though still-too-large-for-him table, looking over a letter. “Anything interesting?” Talon asked, surprising the two.

Selora snatched the paper from Torden, dashing over to the human and handing it to him. “This was the only thing I was able to get from the barracks, but I think it was worth the trouble.” Her prideful grin was enchanting, Talon thought for just a ghost of a moment, grabbing the letter and skimming through its contents in the next. Every word was scratched out in a flowing, flowery script.

Captain Evrich,

In light of your recent concerns towards the new guard, I have made it my duty to try and quell these misguided views and help you come to an understanding with your new men.

Firstly, I understand that they lack the charm and rigidity that your former retinue of men possessed, but they are loyal to Duke Giles entirely. In this, I am certain.

Secondly, though many of them served for years, a good third of the former retinue had uncertain loyalties. In this aspect, you should understand why they needed to be let go.

And finally, the safety of Duke Giles, along with all members of the Citadel’s upper court, take precedence over any other matter, civil or otherwise. Thus, having men who understand their purpose as swords is just as important as those who act as shields. This is why the Archmage has taken up residence within the top of the Citadel, so close to the Duke’s property: to protect him.

If you have any other concerns, please don’t hesitate to send them my way.

Yours truly,

Prime of Law, Sara Hawse

Talon read and reread the letter, digesting every word, every detail. At the top of the Citadel, an Archmage, his newly-acquired information now having a basis of truth upon it. A wicked, venomous smile crept along his lips, terrifying upon his otherwise cold and harsh face. “Good work. Very good indeed.”

Selora’s back shivered, cold sweat dripping down it, though she would never admit to the fact.

“Uh… yeah, well... you know.” Selora brushed a few strands of hair from her face, glancing away from Talon’s unsettling features for a moment, recomposing herself.

“Did anyone see you?”

Selora scratched the back of her head. “Well, not my face, at least. But a pair of guards chased me pretty far through the marketplace.”

Talon folded up the letter, walking over to the table where he saw the opened envelope, slipping it back in. “Well, that’ll have to do, since we really can’t have you just lazing around here ‘til it’s time to go.” He glanced down at Torden. “Sentiment going double for you.”

“Aye, don’ worry. I’ll be ready when ‘eads need mashin’.” The dwarf flashed a toothy grin, and, for just a moment, Talon considered throwing him out the nearest window.

“Selora,” Talon said.

The girl jumped. “Yeah?”

“Good work.”

One might usually feel joy from a companion’s praise, but Selora felt nothing but worry, his tone cold and apathetic. “Uh… yeah. No problem.”

Talon nodded, plopping down on his rented bed.

“Is there, um, something you need us to do?”

“For now, just wait. I have questions for our employer. Information I need before planning our next move.”

Nodding, dumb and without purpose, Selora sat down on her bed. Sitting across from Talon, the colour having left her face, she waited.

* * *

It was well past dinner by the time the tavern calmed down enough for Talon to get a word in with the bartender. Seated at the bar with a cup of coffee, the silver-haired adventurer tapped his foot, cold eyes piercing through the burly man’s back as he worked at cleaning the cups.

The barkeep cleared his throat. “So, you needed something?”

Talon sipped at his cup before answering, “Just some information. Nothing too arduous.”

“Well, ask away.” His eyes darted to the side, avoiding eye contact with Talon’s lethal stare.

Leaning in, Talon kept his voice low, unsure how acceptable the topic was for the public to discuss. “I need information on the Citadel.”

The bartender froze, his hand finally stopping in their repeated wiping of cloth on glass. He set the glass down, his expression made of stone. Glancing around, he leaned in as well. “You find something?”

“Something one of my partners found mentioned it, and it peaked my interest.”

“What do you want to know?” His voice was shaky, eyes warbling as he failed to keep his cool, fear pervading his every action.

“Everything you know, starting from the beginning.”

The bartender whispered through gritted teeth. “The Citadel is like Marbleton’s, eh, court of law, I suppose. They run the show, basically, deciding how public relations with other places are going to be handled, make any final decisions on any new laws, or taxes. Basic stuff like that. Those part of the Citadel answer directly to the Duke, and even the Captain of the Guard has some connections to them. Mostly, they’re a good thing.”

Talon nodded along.

“Though lately, something’s changed. Not sure what, but tensions have risen in the past few weeks between Evrich and the Prime of Law.” The bartender shook his head, despairing at the thought. “Those two always seemed to get along well enough before, but any time you see them in public now, their words are cold, and short. I don’t know, but it seems like something between ‘em has gone south.”

Eye twitching, Talon decided to lead the conversation in a different direction. “And what about the Duke’s newest Archmage?”

“Ah, so you know about that, do ya?” Talon’s stare was harsh and unwavering, enough so that the bartender’s eyes continued to flicker away. “Right, well, I don’t know too much about him. The last one left town; disappeared actually, but it’s an easier story to sell if people think he had somewhere else to be.” He shrugged. “Either way, this new one’s bad news. Has this feel about him, like he’s always angry when he has to make public appearances. It’s almost a mandatory gesture when you work directly under Duke Giles. Aside from that, I don’t know too much. He keeps himself well away from people, and even most of the guards are anxious around him.”

“When did he show up?” Talon drummed his fingers against the counter, glancing over his shoulder as a pair of drunken humans stumbled passed him towards the exit, slurring botched lyrics for a local tune.

Once everyone was out of earshot again, the bartender answered. “Few weeks ago, actually. Wait…” Cupping his chin in his hand, he pushed out his lower lip. “That’s about the time everyone started disappearing.”

Smiling, Talon patted the bartender on his shoulder. “Looks like our price just went up. I’ll start figuring out how to get into the Citadel tomorrow, so make sure to have a big breakfast prepared.”

Swept up in the adventurer’s sudden burst of energy, the burly man nodded, dumbfounded.

Tilting his head in farewell, Talon headed back upstairs.