Chapter 12: Chapter 12 – Crossing Paths

The trip out of the town’s boundaries saw us witnessing many similar lynchings. I recognized some of them, others I did not. I never pretended that rogues like myself were innocent of breaking the law, but when the law was designed to oppress you and kill you at the whim of the privileged, was it so wrong to fight back?

Not that fighting back was worth anything. What could one man do raging against the tide? I couldn’t single-handedly kill every solider in the army, I couldn’t take down the inquisition using good wit and my own misplaced sense of justice. People would accept the new status quo and move on with their lives, more traumatized for the effort, but happy in their own isolated world.

I was in a dour, dour mood.

Fitch was a friend. Not just because he was the man keeping in warm meals and new clothes. He was someone I could always rely on for good advice, he was the father of the rogues in Exarch’s Bend, and they killed him, for what? Racketeering? Fencing? There was no justice in that – they just wanted to kill someone.

And what about the others? I hadn’t seen any of them during my escape from the town aside from those who had been cut down and left in the gutters. Cassandra was too smart to get caught that easily. It was a cold comfort.

Cali grabbed my arm. I looked up.

A long inquisitor stood in the middle of the road. I came to a halt and pressed my hand against Stigma’s hilt. His armour was lighter than that of the others I’d run in to, suggesting that he belonged to a different sect of the organization. It retained that signature copper-red gloss that gave birth to so many disdainful nicknames. A long cape hung close to the ground, and an elevated fluffy collar kept the warmth in. It was a regal set of armor to be sure.

His slicked back, ghost white hair and red eyes gave him an unnerving appearance – countered only by what I could only describe as a rather handsome face. He was better shaved than me, that was for sure. He tilted his head in respect, “I’m impressed. Managing to sneak past all of those guards is no small effort.” His face was incredibly emotive, I could read him like an open book.

Was he here to kill me? Had he seen me fighting and escaping? The only question I could muster was, “Who are you?”

He bowed, “My full title is Knight-Errant Adelbern Weiss, but for you - Adel will do.”

 “Acting like we’re friends already,” I scoffed.

“Are we not? I’ve been following you since you left the bar. I think I have a good enough handle on who you are and how you work.”

I shook my head, “No way. Not when I know this town like the back of my hand.”

“Believe what you want to believe, my friend. You asked, I answered,” he said. “The exchange is not fair – you know nothing of me aside from my name.”

“I don’t rightly care.”

“But I do. I never expected to find a Japanese outworlder wandering around my back yard.”

I tensed up.

“Ren Kageyama… not one for hiding your origins. But who am I to talk? The first chance I got, I named myself in the fashion of my own nation all over again. People are creatures of habit, never able to escape from what they cling onto.”

“You’re an outworlder too?”

“I am! Born and raised in Germany, reincarnated into the waiting arms of the Grand Holy Order, at one of their orphanages. I spent ten years training, and now I serve to track down and destroy dangerous cursed weapons like the one attached to your hip.”

I unwrapped Stigma and stared at the ashen blade, “Is that all? Why don’t we just fight and get it over with?”

He smirked, “Big things are coming! I don’t know how they’ll pan out, but they’ll be interesting nonetheless. Most of all… what you decide to do with that cursed sword. You see, I never said I was going to stop you.”

“You’re just a dog like the rest of them, I don’t believe a word you say.”

“I’m not some puppet for them to manipulate Ren. I know who I am and what I stand for. In fact, I find the order odious to the extreme. I do not tolerate the company of hypocritical murderers any more than you do. In fact, I have some information you might find enlightening.”

“What?”

“Your friend, Bell? He was paid by a Knight named Lord Forester; the man behind the incursion into the Bend. The deal didn’t just include the money – Bell has been placed under Sull’s protection and given a house in Blackwake.”

“A lot of cash to kill a few thieves.”

Adel shrugged, “I never said he was one for making rational economic decisions. The man is positively obsessed with following rules. He saw this as an opportunity to both fulfil his mission, and to cleanse the town of it’s underworld in one fell swoop.”

“And what do you get out of telling me this?”

“Petty-prince John was ultimately responsible. He demanded that Lord Forester conquer Exarch’s Bend and assist him in finding the person responsible for killing eight of his knights. He and I have… differences of opinion. Which is why I’d like for all of his carefully laid plans to go awry.”

A Petty-prince? One of the higher-ranking members of the order, but not actually a real prince.

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“If you want to get back at Bell and Forester, and maybe get the Inquisition off your back – you’ll need to go to Blackwake first.”

“Hold on, I never said I was going to do any of that.”

“They killed your friend, didn’t they?”

“I’m not some kind of fucking hero, Adel. We’ve both lived here long enough to know that this shit isn’t like a fantasy novel. If I try to mess with the Inquisition for real, I’ll be dead within the week.”

He just laughed it off. “What do you think Stigma is good for? You have the key to becoming the ‘protagonist’ in your hands right now. A tool to break the confines of this droll system. Corrupting the unnatural order and replacing it with something new. You just need to be willing to do it.”

“I think I’ll pass, thanks.”

He didn’t seem so torn up about it, “I was just making a suggestion, between friends.”

How presumptuous could this guy be?

“You can run along and do as you please. I won’t be reporting this to John; maybe in a… few weeks. Long after he’s missed the chance to catch you. I can hardly wait to see his reaction.” He approached me, and instead of drawing his sword and running me through, he merely patted me on the shoulder.

But I had one more question, “Do you know something about Stigma?”

“Nothing more than what I know about any cursed weapon. They offer tremendous power in exchange for a heavy price. The way the wind blows depends on the person who found it. The previous owner was a mercenary, I believe. You found his body?”

“Yes.”

“He didn’t get very far then. I hope you’ll show me the full potential of that weapon one day, I want a front row seat to the party.”

I turned to face the strange knight as he waved at me and continued on his way. When I was certain that he wouldn’t stab me in the back, I continued in the direction of the crossroads. Someone had planted the Kingdom of Sull’s flag on top of the mound by the tree, a declaration of victory over the Federation.

Cali finally spoke, “Where are we going?”

I didn’t know myself. My first reaction was to turn to the left and head down the road to the Federation’s borders, but Adel’s words were still ringing in my ears. Bell was in Blackwake, a large town on the banks of a lake. I could make that journey in a few days on foot. I slipped a hand into my pocket and ran my finger down the surface of the gold slab that he’d handed me, the one we’d dug up from under the tree I was now facing.

Blood money.

I said that it was a lot for what we did, but it wasn’t, not anymore. To sell out the only people who ever cared for you, to leave them to the dogs so you could go live under protective custody for the rest of your life, what kind of payment was three gold? Bell had sold his soul for this, a pound of gold and a gilded cell.

I was pissed.

I turned right. Cali was quick to follow in my footsteps, “The Federation is in the opposite direction.”

“I know. We’re taking a detour. I’m going to find Bell and I’m going to wring his skinny little neck.”

“You lied to Adelbern.”

“And? I can lie to anyone I like.”

“You do not want to give him the satisfaction of ordering you to do something,” she observed.

“He didn’t order me to do anything. Like he said, it was just a suggestion.”

Blackwake was a city I tended to avoid. It had all the worst parts of the capital in Rvastpol, with none of the benefits. It was a second-rate town for second-rate nobles who were just a little too poor for the bluebloods up above. A perfect place to dump your unwanted baggage. I knew I could have left Bell to it. He’d have a sword against his neck soon enough anyway, but I wanted to have the last word.

As much as I hated to admit it, Adel had a point. If I wanted to get out of this jam alive, I needed to make full use of Stigma’s abilities. I needed to find strong opponents to kill and consume. This was my equalizer, as long as she was draining my soul to give me the power – I needed to use it, otherwise it would be a terrible waste.

Blackwake had one good aspect. There were a lot of ways to get yourself into trouble, and trouble meant dead bodies.

I settled in for the long walk.