The scent of iron lingered in the air as crimson liquid puddled across the stone, the fire light reflected off the blood as shadows danced and jumped across the walls. Three men remained before the beast as its wicked grin beset them as if a demon from the hells, its fangs and claws but a simple piece of sharpened metal. It waltzed forward, the beast unguarded as its blade dragged across the ground, the grinding of steel on stone served to be their end.
The first man in front clutched a spear taking a step forward, the beast lunged with the intent to punish him for his challenge, and beast laid the man to waist. His body slumped to the ground, his heart pierced and now quiet forever more.
The second man trembled holding a wood cutters axe, he took a single pace before halting. The beast tilted his head, clicked his tongue and stepped forward over the fresh corpse. The second man swung downwards, the beast caught the blow with his shield, and slashed across the mans gut. Blood spilled out before his entrails did, and the man fell backwards clutching his wounds as prayers of mercy escape his lips, but was silenced as steel slid between his ribs.
The third man was shaking with failed attempts to steady his hands, armed with a large club, he gulped. The beast pulled his blade free, the sound of it echoed through the chamber. The beast couldn't contain its excitement as it drank in the mans fear, a bloodlust leaked from his being, he wanted to watch the man die.
The beast made the man a corpse, a fainted swing turned to a swift thrust, and the sword pierced the mans neck. In moments his throat turned to a geyser, dousing the surroundings in spurts of ichor as the mans life faded from his being.
The beast took in his work, saving this image, this display into his mind. Seconds then minutes past before the beast returned to its slumber, leaving a man alone in this cave reeking of iron, well the souls of dead screamed around him.
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"So you'll do it?" Lord Atticus asked before his lips pursed around a silver goblet, he leaned forward in his seat. "You still haven't answered my questions, my Lord." Damian stated, his dark brown eyes fixated on the Dukes son, his inquisitorial gaze focused on his eyes. A silence held between them, Lord Atticus swished his wine against the sides of his cup till it spilled across the sitting room floor.
Lord Atticus sighed. "I suppose I'll humor you, since this is the most entertaining part of my week so far." Lord Atticus leaned back, his cup hand resting off the side of his chair, the goblet nearly slipping from his grasp.
"Like I said I need you to find a shipment for me, an iron chest containing some vital documents, its contents you really shouldn't bother yourself with unless you like politics of course." Damian snickered, a meek smile now on his lips. "It wouldn't look good politically for my father if it were found out he let some common bandits steal his shipment, thus I'm hiring you to retrieve them, someone that won't gossip to the first tavern wench that pours him a drink."
Lord Atticus's head turned towards the door, taking a bronze hand held bell from his pocket. His wrist flicked, the bell cried. The door opened, and in stepped a beautiful young woman adorned in a black and white maids attire.
"Girl some wine was spilled." The young woman nodded her head, grasping a cloth that was tucked into her dress. She approached with haste and the grace of feline, Damian's eyes wandered towards the woman. She looked to be in her earlier twenties, long dark hair that matched her eyes and contrasted to her pale skin. She was average height, and thin, though it was hard to tell with the dress she was currently wearing. Though what caught Damien's eye wasn't her beauty or grace, rather her elven ears. No, "half elven," he thought to himself.
"So would you be willing to take on the job? I understand you've worked for my father before, or rather your previous organization did." Damian's eyes flicked back towards Lord Atticus, as the woman began to clean the red wine from the floor boards.
"The job sounds simple enough, however the matter of pay has yet to be discussed my Lord." Atticus chuckled. "For a commoner your rather well spoken I must admit, no offence of course, though I guess I shouldn't be surprised since you speak High Faelic." Damian nodded. "No offense taken, just something I picked up along the way I suppose, especially with the clients the Conclave had."
Lord Atticus nodded, satisfied with his answer. "Very well. In terms of pay, I'll give you the information your seeking." Damian tilted his head. "No offence my Lord, but I do believe the Duke wouldn't want those that work for him going un-compensated for their work." Atticus put one leg over the other, sipping once more from his cup. "Your a true business man, I respect that. Tell you what, I'll ensure your fairly compensated for your work, you have my word."
Damian narrowed his eyes, tapping his fingers against his thighs at noble mans game. "And what exactly will I be receiving?" He asked, leaving no doubt, that he was annoyed. "Oh come on, where's your sense of adventure. I promise that it'll be worth it."
Damian sighed. "Sure, deal." Damian hissed, as his client smiled. The young woman stood and bowed to her master, Lord Atticus waved her away. As she left the room Damian stood. "I imagine I won't be longer then two or three days." Lord Atticus stood as well, showing his guest to the door. "I'll be awaiting your return, I hope The Red Wolf of Markel won't disappoint."
Damian sighed deeply. "I never do, Lord Atticus."
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Damian inhaled, deeply, till his lungs nearly burst. He exhaled sharply, his heart thrumming wildly. The bodies of several men lay at his feet, blood coating his weapons and armour. The room was dimly lit, only a small fire provided what little light there was. Damian cut away some fabric from one of men he'd killed, using it to clean his blade before sheathing it.
As he stepped through the puddles of blood, it soaked into his worn boots, his steps now squished with each step. The noise, warmth and sensation of it was near maddening, however he continued on. Damian rummaged through the bandits belongings, a pile of loot they stacked in the corner of their hideout.
Small crates, purses and satchels were shoved aside. His hands found purchase on something metal in the darkness, and it scratched across the stone as he pulled it forward. It was locked and unopened, relieved he slid the key he was given into the lock. Thankfully it opened, the last thing he wanted to do was drag a heavy lockbox back to the city.
Inside was several documents and sealed letters, Damian took Lord Atticus's advice and didn't bother to read them. He tucked the papers carefully into his satchel before eyeing over the loot, nothing much of value or use to him, so he left it.
With a leather strap he slung his shield over his back, he rubbed his sore forearm, and stretched in attempts to relieve some pain. At a brisk pace he started his exit, walking mostly in darkness till the light of day crested around a cornered cave wall. The sun blinded him as he stepped out the mouth of the tunnel, as his eyes adjusted, his heart jumped. An axe swung down towards his head, his hand swung upwards. Damian commanding reality to block his attacker, and it did. A translucent dome of crackling arcane energy crested over his body, the axe slid across the barriers red hue, sparks shot into the sky as Damian jumped back.
Wasting no time, he threw back his right hand. He poured his will into existence, bringing forth the chills of the far north and the bitterness of his contempt. Materializing it, focusing it. Finally he pressed his hand forward, a blast of ice sundered the man. Shards of ice cut into his flesh and the cold burned, he cried as he tumbled back onto the ground.
Damian approached. "You don't deserve the honour of dying to my spells." The words left his mouth as he stood over the bandit, his body mangled, shards of ice reflecting the light. Damian raised his foot, bringing it down on his throat. The man gasped for air, all attempts in vain as he clawed at his boot, to which he pressed harder till something broke. Damian lifted his foot and carried on down the path towards the city, leaving the bandit to injuries, and to the afterlife.
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Several hours had past now and night was upon him, Damian had slowed his pace. Some miles behind him was the sea, and the flat plains of Failendale carried the wind to his backside, a cool breeze in the mid summer twilight.
Damian had found a place off the side of the road to pitch camp, he avoided lighting a fire since he was alone. He snacked on dried meats, sipping from his flask of sour wine as he gazed upon the night sky. He found the various constellations that shined above him, the names escaped his lips well the wind crashed against his flesh like waves upon the shore.
"The night sky is as beautiful as ever Lenore." The words slipped from his lips, as his eyes closed. Sleep came to him that night, and slumber carried him into tomorrow.
He awoke to the chirping of insects, the tall grass of the great plains were home to an uncountable legion of them. Damian stayed in place, the sunlight casting its gaze upon him. He breathed in the cool breeze as a yawn escaped his lips, eventually gaining the strength to climb to his feet.
He wasn't sure the exact time he awoke, sometime before noon as the sun hadn't peaked in the sky quite yet. He thought that he should hurry, the clock was against him after all, however he knew his bounty wasn't one for proper time management.
Regardless of how groggy he was or how sore his bones were, he started his march back to the city. It didn't take long before it was in sight, the city of Erybridge was massive, a fortress city built into the Northern Failendale Mountains. However he still had a few hours of marching till he'd reach the place, and it sure was warm inside all his armour, he thought in a debate to take it off.
A few hours later he managed to reach the city, by the time he got inside his throat was parched and feet sore. His boots were not only stained with blood but wore all to hell, the material cut into his heels with each step.
Despite his irritation he was nearly to his destination, he cut through every side street and back ally he could remember. The city was packed with swarms of commoners, Damian couldn't breath in them, packed tightly together made him violent.
So if he could help it, he avoided the masses. And in doing so he cut around the market through a back ally of thieves and harlots, areas where the scum of the city leeched onto life. He knew to keep his purse close, though not many would dare to steal from a man as armed as he. However that didn't stop the ladies of the night, their solicitations fell on deaf ears to their disappointment. As he was neither in the mood, nor wanting some sort of affliction.
Damian exited this area of lowlifes and scum into another, another den of sin and strife. At the tail end of the market was men, women and children. Bound in iron, beaten and starved into submission. These sorry souls were either sold or born into slavery, Damian could normally tell by the look in their eyes.
He was surprised by the amount of slaves present, and in good health. The Empire only had conflicts in the far south currently, no wars in the north to collect slaves. Perhaps they were debtors, or some lord in the next town was in a bad mood. Not only Humans, but Dwarves and Gnomes, with two Wood Elves in the front display.
Damian's head cocked to the side, the only Wood Elves he could imagine in the area were across the border in Alenvail, which slavery was outlawed. "But slavers have their ways I suppose." Damian pushed those thoughts from his mind, keeping his pace steady.
The Dukes manor, if it could be called that, more a castle then a manor. Was located in the south of the city, elevated above the entirety of Erybridge. The walk to get to the place was tedious at best, excruciating to those with faulty footwear.
But Damian managed to reach it, a bit short on patience as he did. He was given entry to the castle, a large sandstone and iron fortification guarded by at least a hundred men, likely more on the inside. The Duke of Erybridge was wealthy enough to rival the Emperor, and they flaunted that wealth with gardens, banners, sculptures and paintings across their keep. Their home was not only a thing of power, but a thing of beauty. The many colours of their decorations contrasted perfectly, visually stimulating like their service staff of pretty girls and refined gentleman.
Damian received an escort into the manor, six guards on all sides of him. Each was moderately well armed, for most it would prove difficult to defeat them but Damian was confident he could take them down with moderate ease.
They entered the front of the manor, and shortly upon entry he was greeted by a gentleman he'd met previously. "Master Isaac." Damian nodded his head towards the elderly man. "Master Damian, you've returned with great haste." The mans voice was refined, tuned even, smooth like an aged whisky paired with a cigar. His features showed years of service, his groomed beard would be envied by many men, his bald head not so much.
"If Lord Atticus is available, I have what he's requested." Master Isaac nodded, and the butler escorted him through the halls littered with art and decorative weapons. They climbed the stairs to the second floor, eventually arriving at a set of doors on the west wing of the building. Master Isaac knocked twice. "Please come in!" A voice called in excitement.
Master Isaac opened the door stepping inside, bowing, then allowed Damian to enter. Damian nodded his head to Lord Atticus who was seated at his desk, Master Isaac exited the room, bowing again before closing the door.
"The Red Wolf has returned, what has the infamous warrior brought me." He held out his hand expectantly, Damian planted his bounty into the hands of the nobleman. Lord Atticus took a moment to read over the documents, during which he gestured for him to sit, which he obliged.
"Very good, and your certain you wouldn't like a position with my family, you'd become a very wealthy man." Damian chuckled. "Apologies my Lord, but I simply can't accept."
Lord Atticus was disappointed but not surprised, he sighed setting the documents down. "Very well, however if you do change your mind the offer still stands. But I suppose you'd like your reward for a job well done." Lord Atticus cleared his throat. "Your companion, Miss Sophie Alaire, did work briefly for my father. She came into our service some four weeks ago, I can't go into detail about the work she provided unfortunately. However she did mention where she would be heading next, I made her a similar offer to the one I made to you, however she turned me down. Miss Alaire said she was heading to Grauer Stein in Alenvail, I can't quite recall who she said her business was with, but your a capable man, you'll find her."
Damian leaned back, his hand brushed the scruff on his chin. "Anything else you can recall? And when exactly did she leave?" Lord Atticus flicked his eyes upwards before focusing them back on Damian. "I believe she left just three days before you arrived, and unfortunately that's all she mentioned."
"Damn" Damian thought, his jaw clenched as he exhaled sharply. "At least I know where she's headed now, thank you my Lord." Damian stood. "Of course, and I haven't forgotten to fully compensate you so please do not worry. Isaac will grant you with a proper reward before you leave." Damian had nearly forgot, his mind was occupied on how to track down his companion.
"Wonderful, thank you again Lord Atticus." Damian nodded, he just hoped that he didn't hand him some fine painting or sculpture, or any other collectors item that'd prove tedious to peddle.
Damian took his leave, walking unescorted, back to the main entrance. His mind was running wild, thinking of the many possibilities of why Sophie would be in Alenvail, and how exactly he was going to find her. Before he could find any suitable reasons he'd arrived at the entrance, stopping suddenly when his name was called.
"Master Damian?" His name called for a second time, the sight of Master Isaac now registering in his line of sight. "Forgive me Master Isaac I was lost in thought." He nodded. "Lord Atticus has seen fit to give you a reward for your efforts, if you would be so kind as to wait here for a moment." Master Isaac left in a brisk pace, Damian sighed well letting his mind drift back into thought.
"Sophie nothing you have ever done has made sense, Alenvail hated The Conclave and their are many that'd pay to have anyone of our heads. . . This trip will be dangerous, however if I keep a low profile I may be able to enter without too much strife, if the gods allow it of course." His thoughts continued, his eyes fixated on his worn boots. "Before I leave I'm buying new boots, or so help me I'll succumb to The Lord of Onyx and Ebony before long."
Once again his named was called, he raised his head snapping back into his senses. Before him was Master Isaac accompanied by a familiar person, the half Elf maid he'd seen two days earlier. "Master Damian? Have you rested?"
"I have." Damian asked, eyes narrowed and head tilted. The half Elf wasn't dressed in her servants attire, a plain green short sleeve dress covered her. A caller made from iron and thick leather constricted her neck, her eyes resembled that of a frightened child.
"Master Damian, Lord Atticus will be gifting you one of the members of his household staff." Master Isaac gestured towards the half Elf woman, his fingers nearly drifting into her jet black hair. "This is Elise, she has only been with us a short while. She has some skills you may find useful in your travels, and is antiquate in basic tasks such as cooking and cleaning."
He smiled, Damian sighed rubbing his temples. "Isaac you forgot an important bit." Lord Atticus's voice called out from the stairs, leaning against the railing with a fiendish grin across his lips. "Elise here can also read and write, not something you typically find in a commoner let alone a slave. And if you can't find use for her in your travels, then I'm sure a slaver would be happy to purchase her for good price."
Damian looked up, he contained his animosity for the moment. "My Lord, is it possible for me to receive some monetary compensation instead?" He asked in vain, he knew from the moment he thought of the question it'd be denied. "Noble prick wanting to unload his unwanted servants on me."
"Oh where's your sense of adventure, I'm sure The Red Wolf of Markel prefers company to his lonesome, after all, wolves are pack creatures are they not." His voice made Damian's blood begin to boil, and he started to remember why he hated these blue blooded assholes. "Very well my Lord, I suppose your right." Damian spat out, his frustration and anger leaked from every flick of his tongue. Lord Atticus nodded. "Fair well."
He climbed the stairs back towards his study, Master Isaac handed him a letter and key. "The deed for Elise, and the key to her caller. And Master Damian please forgive my Lord, sometimes his sense of humor can be seen as cruelty."
Damian chuckled. "Sense of humor is a new one, I'll give you that Master Isaac." His eyes crawled up his torso, a hunger now lurking behind his gaze. "Now I'll be taking my leave before anymore mistakes of cruelty are made." Master Isaac lowered his head slowly, then cautiously opened the door.
"Miss Elise before you leave, please try and behave yourself." Damian's eyes flicked back to Elise as he tried to understand the meaning of his words, she nodded vigorously before her gaze met his. Their eyes held for a moment before hers faltered, and returned her sight to the ground. Damian exited the manor and strode through the courtyard, with Elise keeping in tow behind him. Before he knew it they'd made it to the gate and out to the streets of Erybridge, Damian didn't stop till the manor was out of sight.
When he finally stopped her turned to face his new charge, her dark eyes were again casted upon him. A sudden shock jolted through her body as Damian met her gaze once again, sweat now leaking across her body. Every fiber of her being was telling her this man was dangerous, every instinct telling her to run. But she stood firm, holding the gaze of what felt like a beast in the shape of a man. Her voice trembled, but it cleared as words managed to escape her lips. "If I may be so bold to ask, but. . . what will you do with me?"