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Lucky Foot, Tavern

The tavern was calm and quiet in the middle of the night. Customers that come on a regular spree were returned to their homes and young travellers from far away lands were sent to their bed, dreaming of riches and adventure.The only folk that were still up late was a mouse barkeeper, a couple of tired barmaids and two guests that were sitting by the fireplace.

Amion was not a man who could hold on to his drink. He had tried alcohol beverage before which resulted from him in a mad and wild case of stupor. Such high volumes of consumption would make him feel tipsy, erratic in a petulant behaviour that was enough to make him swore that he would never drink again. Instead of ordering the finest drinks in the tavern, he decided to order something that has been growing as an obsession to him. He called out for bubble tea.

It had taken several idle banter of drinks to break the awkward tension that was forming the two. Neither of them, a rat and a human, were unsure of how to start a conversation. Fortunately, the topic about the town and their first encounter from long ago was enough to enjoy each other company.

Amion was sitting down on a vintage chair made out of the fine material of wool. He rests comfortably in front of the fireplace where his eyes were drawn to the flame, waving and crackling like a gentle dance. He took a sip of his tea to taste the bittersweet flavour in his mouth. He greatly enjoyed the tea and wondered as to why no one has ever concocted such an idea in his homeland? Since he was immune to the heat, he could easily drink it in a single gulp. But instead, he chose to be patient and took small sips to avoid his awkwardness towards the rat that has been sitting beside him.

Sat in a comfortable seat was a well-dressed rat coated in brownish fur. His attire was fashionable, wove in a silk finery of red and white. His eyes reflected by the fire, giving in a faded, orange glow. He had the respectable look of a scoundrel, a bonafide cutthroat, smiling a devious smile with an ale of blueberry in his paw. He formally introduced himself as Mercurio of the Rat Clan.

At first, Amion thought of the rat creature like any other and minded their business and lot. He had seen a couple of them in the tavern, discussing their own secret whispers of schemes and ploy. But this time it was different. Different because Amion recognized the rat from before for not too long ago, he rescued him from a group of ingenerate blackguards in the first days of Armello. He was quite surprised when he came to learn that the rat was the sole proprietor of the tavern as well to the entire town.

"Alright, enough of this." Mercurio began, placing his mug on the side table. He then pulled something out from his coat and tossed a small bag towards to him.

Amion caught it with ease to hear the sound of metal jiggling inside. He untied the bag to reach down and pulled out a shiny gold coin that had the face of a lion.

"Never got a chance to thank you for saving my life," Mercurio said. He glanced back at the bar to call for another round. The barkeeper took notice and went underway with the ale. "Considering that you left me behind, that is. Quite unheroic of you."

"And yet here you are," Amion replied, smiling. He stashed away the bag of gold before refilling his tea with a kettle. "Drinking and talking by the fireplace instead of putting a dagger behind my back. I don't know if I should be the concern or not."

"I can give you an answer. Neither," Mercurio firmly stated. "Although I must say you did a splendid job taking down my captors. Never seen such magic like yours before."

"Oh? I thought it was the same as any other?"

"Believe me, when I say that you put the Bear Clan to shame," Mercurio chuckled. "But enough about that. Heard you're doing another escort job. Seems like you've been making a name for yourself as a jaded mercenary."

"If I learn one thing straight is that they always hire the strong silent type. If they care, they will make their money's worth."

"Worth enough to disguise in Wolf's outfit no less," Mercurio said, lighting his smoke pipe. He breathed in the tobacco leaves of pipeweed and blew white smoke. "Tell me. Why is it that a...human...such as yourself go to such length to avoid detection?"

Amion looked wearily. His face turned neutral. "And who do you say that I was hiding?"

"Just a bit curious is all. You do not need to be someone else to start a new life."

"As you are not aware," Amion pointed his finger to his face. "No one has seen this dashing face of mine or even know what I am. Don't want to explain me to the lot. Prefer to stay things quiet."

"Until today," Mercurio mentioned. His eyes caught several of the animals spectating from above and below the tavern. "Sooner or later they would find out. Sooner or later you got to decide to make an appearance. Unless you want to remain incognito."

Amion lowered his eyebrow, irritated at the rat interfering with his private life. He grudgingly sighed. "How much do you know?"

Mercurio became silent, tapping his fingers impatiently for the ale to arrive. He placed down his pipe with a smug-like grin. "A lot of things," he replied. "Great and many things. In fact, I'm quite interested in that necklace of yours."

Amion gives a cold glare, his hand squeezed tight of the pendant where a small ruby was lying at the centre.

"You see, Amion. I spend a great deal to learn about you and your kind," Mercurio continued. "And did you know what I find? A tidbit of treats. I know you are hiding from them. The people from the winter hamlet. I know you are the last. Yet I cannot imagine as to why you are still staying in this town? There is nothing for you here except--"

"Your drink, milord?" The barmaid announced. Aveline the maned fox appeared from behind with a hand of ale for Mercurio. She placed his drink at the side table where her golden eyes drifted to Amion who was without a helmet.

Both Amion and Aveline make contact as their eyes were locked in a shared understanding.

"Shall...I get you anything, sir?" Aveline asked softly.

Amion paused. He then coughed several times before making a response. "I would like some more tea, please." He asked, raising the empty kettle.

With a light bow, Aveline humbly obeyed and picked the kettle from his hand. "Of course, sir. I'll be right back." She then turned her direction to the bar and left.

As the barmaid was out of their hearing range, Mercurio raised his head and bit his lip to form a sharp smile. "Oh, I see it now," he said, understanding what was going on between the two. "You fancy her, don't you?"

Amion didn't say a word, unable to formulate a response. He chucked down the tea in a single gulp, inattentive and unaware that the drink was still hot.

In a moment of silence, Mercurio leaned forward, putting his rat's hand at the mouth. "You know," he whispered. "I can arrange a private room for just the two of you. It would be...beneficial to understand more of our culture. If you know what I mean."

Amion was close to killing the rat, ending that worthless meatbag for good. His hand was near inches to the blade, ready to cut the rat's head clean off. The procedure would have been quick and easy, enough to finish the rat and the rest of his hired assassins that were hiding in the shadow. He could sense their body heat. Two in the tavern and six at the entrance. One of the many traits as a fiery spellsword.

As much as he wanted to commit the deed, Amion was not a suicidal maniac or even a fool. He would prefer to avoid much bloodshed if there was a chance to take.

Amion counted from one to ten in his head, trying to calm himself. Sadly, it didn't work. He then turned his head towards Aveline and instantly the rage that was building inside was gone for good.

Aveline was quick to notice and give him a warm smile. Her eyes glittered like topaz in the light.

With a deep and heavy breath, Amion shifted his gaze at the rat. He sighed once more, enough for the rat to hear his defeat. "I take it you have a job for me, milord."

Mercurio's devious smile remain glued to his face, feeling with the sense of pride and triumph. He quickly grabbed his mug to raise a toast. "I always do."

As the rat finished his ale, he began to speak his mission his plan throughout the night. A night that forced Amion to serve the grinning bastard of the Rat Clan.

---

Blackpine Forest

The low glow of their torchlight was like fireflies in the night. Trees as black and grim with branches that stretch far and high. Even the soil was pitched black, wet and oozing a vile sludge that was coming out from the ground. It was an unsettling sight. A sickness dwelled within the forest. A plague that thrived upon the goodness of life. What was once before has become a desolated and inhospitable place, incapable to house any form of life except for the dead.

Deep within the heart that shroud in a blanket of darkness lies a group of ten armed individuals and four large halberdiers delving deep into that forsaken place, seeking of the runaways that escaped the grasp of the wolves.

Handpicked by the Partishan, the chosen musketeers were the toughest, fiercest batch from a wide variety of companies. Veterans over a countless battle, their stalwart discipline and commitment makes them prime candidates for the task at hand, dealing with all sorts of horrors and abominations that come to surface. They were summarily prepared to fight, ready to give their lives in the name of the empire.

The trip to the forest was a quiet event, uneasy and unnatural. Nobody spoke a word and nobody make a dent in noise for fear to raise the attention of the monsters lurking in the dark. Deep in thought, Partishan Valeran was in a matter of debate with himself, wondering if the dead wolf back at the outpost was telling the truth or not. He was quite not sure if the prisoners were alive, to begin with, let alone survive in a place most foul.

As they just cross a small stream and over a thicket of bushes, the Partishans sensed a terrible presence that was coming straight in their direction. One of the Partishan, Decimus, gestured back at the musketeers to take their position as the three moved forward in advance to investigate. Hid behind the safety of cover, they had the full view of the threat.

At the top of a steep hill, they saw a vast number of beasts surrounding a strange circular formation of stone. An ancient ruin of structure that somehow prevented the beasts to enter. The humanoid animals below were beyond rescue, corrupted by the plague and forever lost in the void. The symptoms were similar at the wolf outpost: sickish purple hue with eyes that glowed ominously in the night. Beside the plagues, the three spotted the missing runaways, trapped and cornered in the stone circle. They counted at least eight of them. Six imperials and two unknown humanoid beasts.

"Foul energy," Partishan Reeve declared, already snuffing out his torch. The other two soon followed until they were in darkness with the use of a full moon as a source of light. "Counted at least fifty of them," he added. "Too many to handle."

Partishan Oerin scoffed vehemently and tightened the handle of his halberd. "Bah, when did that ever stop us?" He asked, smiling a cocksure smile. His eyes beamed and hungered for action.

Reeve remained silent, shaking his head as Valeran stepped in. "Since we are not sure if there are more of them, I say we need to do this quick" he explained. His eyes glanced sideways to see Decimus was already in position. "Are the musketeers ready?"

Decimus firmly nodded his head and waited for the signal.

"Like the battle of the Glittering Glade, we take them by surprise," Reeve mentioned, feeling a bit nostalgic of his days in the war. The rotten beasts, the escapees and the stone circle were positioned in a large open space of the forest. The clearing was spacious enough for the musketeers to pick a decent target while the Partishans charged boldly into the enemy.

Valeran stood out tall and proud of the cover. It was time for any to begin the attack. With a firmed announcement from the leader, Decimus hollered out at the musketeers to open fire.

Without any delay, the musketeers took aim and pulled the trigger. Their guns boomed and sizzled hot iron lead that caught some plaguers dead in an instant. The noise brought the attention both the plagued beasts and the escapees as four large individuals charged madly into the fray.

Among the four to be the first to spill alien blood, Oerin was more eager and excitable than the rest. With a mighty swing, he cleaved several beasts in half like it was nothing more but parchment of paper. His motion danced on the field, dominating the battlefield as he claimed life after life with ease. He laughed joyously in the spectacle and ravished upon the opportunity to add in the kill count.

The battle against the corrupted beasts was more of a festival of slaughter. With musketeers shooting from above and Partishans slicing from below, the outcome was entirely one-sided until the last of the beast was killed by a lonely round.

"Call out in present!" Valeran announced, breathing calm and collected. He wiped the blood from his halberd to spectate the scene of the battle.

The plagued beasts weren't as much as a threat that the Partishans had literally hoped for. Most of their bodies were too fragile, easily breakable with just a single punch. Their rotten corpses decomposed throughout of time meant an easy victory for them. If the musketeers were to handle the situation by themselves and without the intervention of the Partishan then they would be indeed in trouble unless positioned the higher ground of their musket.

The rest of the Partishans called out their names one by one to signify that they were alright.

"Reeve, present."

"Decimus, present."

"And Oerin, present. What a slaughter!" He boomed out in laughter which made Reeve slightly bit irritated of his attitude."

"Mind your temperance, Oerin," Reeve said, scowling. "Not a single Partishan show such sheer recklessness and I advise that you learn some humility."

"Humility? If I want to show humility old man then I would be speaking with those bored bureaucrats. At least one of them showed some bit of fun. Unlike you, old man."

"And I dare you to try to say it to my face, you blasted snhite of a--"

"Enough!" Valeran spoke out in a loud authoritative tone, stopping the two from bickering even further. He glared sideways at Oerin. "Accompany Decimus to the hill. Evaluate the scene with the musketeers and make a pathway to the expedition camp."

Oerin's face remained cheerfully confident but eventually, he gave in and sighed. His hand tapped on the chest. "As you impart, my grand." He added and quickly left the battlefield.

Just as Decimus was about to follow, he was stopped by Valeran. "Keep an eye on him," he whispered. "Make sure you tell me about his progress."

Decimus pondered a bit by the last sentence, but nodded sharply nevertheless and continued on ahead to catch up with Oerin.

"How dare he," Reeve spoke furiously. "That...child. Such intolerance. I'll have his tongue for this."

Valeran chuckled, shaking his head. "Steady your hand, you old fool. It's his bloodlust that is talking," he said. "And he is speaking the truth you know, you are looking rather....pale."

Reeve gaped his mouth in shock. "I'm blooming thirty-eight for damnable sake!" He exploded, raising his tone just enough to startle some of the escapees. One particular animal, a black furry canine, briefly glanced at the noisy, rabble-rouser before reverting its eyes back on the patient.

Embarrassed by the sudden outburst, Reeve lowered his head in defeat as Valeran formed a small grin on his face in a triumphant manner. "Seems we're getting the attention," he said, motioning towards to them. "Let's greet our fellow comrades."

Partishan Valeran and Reeve walked at the edge of the entrance where a strange form of power radiated from within the circle. A burst of warm energy flowed into their bodies, feeling good and relaxed all of a sudden. It was no wonder the corrupted beasts didn't dare enter the sanctum. Such power would destroy anyone that had the plague in an instant.

The stone pillars had an eerie marking written on the surface. An ancient dialect that was difficult to decipher in which Valeran was more inclined to solve the mystery of this place. Since in his youth, the man was but a curious fellow that had an insatiable appetite for knowledge. It was unsurprising that the man had always loved puzzles and to unlock the secret inside that he could use against his enemies. Whether it was mundane or arduous, he would claim it all in due time, but for now, he has a meeting with the escapees that he must attend.

They both entered the sanctum without any trouble as a single soldier stood out in wait for their approach. The man had a young outlook on him with chestnut hair and black pearl eyes and a large scar notable on his left cheek. He wore a simple garment of the company of black and white.

"My lords, we appreciate the rescue," The man saluted. "Sergeant Wallis Waxer of the Black Swan Company. At your service. It is an honour to meet the Saviour's finest."

"At ease, sergeant," Valeran spoke out, gesturing the man to put down his arm. "You have done well in your task to escape from the wolves. But I must know the situation at hand as to the state of your troops."

Waxer's eyes shone with unbridled rage. "Those flea bitten bastards took a lot of our men," he explained. "We used to be over fifty from a mixture of companies but the wolves have shipped most of us off to some godforsaken location."

"That is unfortunate news. How on earth did you escape?"

"We did not. The doctor did."

"Doctor?" Valeran asked, glancing at the black canine. "So that creature's a doctor then?"

"Yes, milord. That is correct. He used to work with the wolves before they tossed him into the cell. Saved some of our men when he was with us. He even snatched the keys when the chaos erupted in the outpost."

"Must have been that large crow they were talking about," Reeve mentioned.

"One more question before I let you join the others," Valeran said. "How did you know the circle would protect you?"

Waxer quickly pointed his finger at the patient, a light browned squirrel, that the canine was mending at. "Little lad was insistent to stay in the circle. Few of us thought it was malarky and decided to outrun the plagued animals. Never made it."

Valeran nodded his head in acknowledgement and patted on Waxer's shoulder. "Follow the path to the hill. Gather your belongings and meet them there."

Waxer took several steps back to give a formal salute and left to inform the others.

Reeve glared at the two animals, a mutt and a squirrel, then back to Valeran. "What do you want to do with them?" He asked, gripping tightly of his halberd.

Valeran was quite aware of Reeve's hatred for animals and showed that he had no intention of bringing them along for the ride. "Why don't you start escorting the imperials?" He replied, starting at the doctor.

"I suppose you want to talk to that flea-bitten mutt?

"Won't be long, Reeve. Just want to know if it has good info about the crow. Plus we could use them for the blood vision ritual."

Reeve's grim smile appeared on his face and liked the sound of it. "Well then, don't keep me waiting. I'll leave you alone with your...talk."

Valeran bid Reeve farewell as the two split apart. One to attend with the imperials and the other with a canine doctor who was not aware of his approaching presence.