A corrupted soul on a twisted land

In all the ten years that Keira Seneca had known Mrs. Yaktu, she had never bothered to ask the tavern owner about her strength and origin. Assassin’s communicated as less as possible with their employees, and only discussed the target. Now this was a different case. Keira wouldn’t be working alone, and she could talk as much as she wanted. But Cool, the overly hyperactive jester, seemed to be ahead of her.

 

“Wow! Half-orc? That’s so COOL! Get it? COOL?” the young jester waited for a vivid reaction, but got none. He explained further. “My name is Cool! Come on guys, lighten up!” a cricket was chirping outside the window.

A vein was forming in the dark wizard’s temple. “I will give you a suggestion that may save your life one day,” He narrowed his gaze on the noisy man. “If your jokes aren’t funny, keep them to yourself.”

“Save my life? From whom?” Cool asked innocently.

“From me.” The jestered cowered. Vangz was satisfied with the jester’s reaction. Now THIS is entertainment.

“Shut yer gapin’ mouths, the both of ye! Let’s check ‘em newsies!” Mrs. Yaktu ordered. At once, the two men sat still – Cool cowering behind Keira, Vangz smiling wickedly.

The Half-orc tavern owner took out an old piece of parchment from her apron and spread it across the table. Like the material used for Vanishing Notes, this was yellowish and had a mouldy scent.

“Claudius, brave young writer ‘e is, made ‘em newsies,” Mrs. Yaktu hurried behind the counter and rummaged for something. “Everyday, somethin’ comes up. Nasty lil emperor abusin’ Lesallia like that. Told ‘im about yer fella, Keira, an’ made sure ‘e dug up new informa-shun.”

“Everybody quiet…” Keira’s moved across the room. She felt her way around the tavern and peered through each crack. “Even walls have ears.”

“Isn’t it wonderful that you have me,” the brooding figure of Vangz whispered an incantation, and as the words spilled from his lips, a transparent magic barrier enveloped the tavern and muffled the ears of those who dared eavesdrop.

Keira took her seat and sneered at her ally. “Show off.”

Before anyone could speak, Cool grabbed the parchment, raised it against the nearest lamp, and set it on fire. 

“WHAT DID YOU JUST DO?!!!!!!!” Keira screamed. The dark wizard stood up grabbed the jester’s orange collar and yanked him aside.

“Calm yerself, honey,” Mrs. Yaktu started patting the now burning parchment and took her seat around the table. “Flame’s the tool to read ‘em newsies. Set ol’ parchment on fire and words form from ‘em smoke.”

“Yeah! Good thing I know exactly what to do!” the jester released himself from the wizard’s grip, veering at him. “See, I’m not just funny! I’m smart and funny!”

“I’m not sure I agree,” Vangz released the helpless jester, settled comfortably on his chair and took a large bite from an apple. “Stupid beard in the way.” The wizard yanked his final article of disguise and threw it on the jester’s face. It showed an unshaven, pale face. The dark wizard, the one feared by the whole of Lesallia, was only a man in his twenties. Not far from the ages of Keira and Cool.

“But ye foolish jester ruined ‘em articles. Now we gonna see ‘em pop out all at the same time!” The jester’s proud face fell. “Set ‘em flame in tiny bits! Use ‘em matchsticks to read ‘em one at a time!”

From the smoke of the burning parchment, words formed in the air. The group would be content to watch the dancing wisps of grey if the situation wasn’t so dire. The articles appeared in random order and jumbled themselves until they were impossible to read.

“Let me deal with that,” Vangz volunteered. He raised a lazy hand and swayed it in front of the articles like a conductor to his orchestra. Finding a familiar name, he brought forth the striking piece of writing.

Lesallia news

Emperor Kiev has been known for imprisoning scholars and mages for reasons unknown to us. He is accused of capturing a well-known philosopher, Leon Seneca. Leon Seneca, an accomplished alchemist and renowned scholar has been found missing this day as his laboratory was raided. Speculations that the man was abducted are still under the confirmation of---

Keira turned away as the rest of the group read the remaining story. Of course the emperor wanted her Leon, but for what reason? They already found what they were looking for in their little home. She eyed her dark colleague. His lazy stare was replaced by that of extreme interest and even hunger. Keira would make sure to watch his every move.

Mrs. Yaktu shook her head in disappointment. “Nothin’ very useful. Poor Claudius couldn’t dig up much today.” Suddenly, she recalled a box full of messages from her network of spies. The newest notes were scheduled to show their content on the fourth moon, and jumping jackrabbits, this was the night. “Be right back. Don’t destroy me tavern, or ah’ll sit on ye lot.”

Vangz turned to Keira. “Seneca has one of the tomes, doesn’t he?”

The assassin kept silent and spun an empty fruit bowl on the table. Cool looked from the man to the woman, and cursed under his breath. He knew something bad would happen.

“ANSWER ME, ASSASSIN!” The growl from the wizard was hoarse as ever.

Insulted that he wasn’t being acknowledged, he menacingly knocked the bowl to the wall. In a moment that even the wizard didnt notice, Keira’s dagger was aimed a dangerous millimetre away from the Vangz' throat. They stared at each other, eye to eye, each not wanting to give way to humility. Frustration and fatigue glowed in her eyes. Sadistic glee and a daring stare in his. A current of blue electricity slowly crept up Vangz’ arm, but before he could strike, Mrs. Yaktu slammed him over the head with an enormous pan. After which, she knocked the assassin’s dagger away.

“WHAT DID AH TELL YE ABOUT RUINING ME TAVERN?” she watched as the wizard rubbed his aching head and as the assassin dunked her poor hand into a bucket of ice. Mrs. Yaktu didn’t spare Cool hiding behind upturned chairs. She gave him a good whack and reprimanded him for not stopping his allies from killing each other.

After calming down, she set a small wodden black chest on the table and undid its numerous iron locks. The group crowded around and saw more pieces of parchment. “Letters from yer pals, Cool.”

“Technically, they’re not my pals, coz I’m not allowed to meet them,” Cool explained airily.

“Oh, you know what technically means?” Vangz feigned an expression of bewilderment and boredom.

“Yer a devil of a man, ye know that?” Mrs. Yaktu said with a mild laughter.

She spread three pieces of paper on the table and watched as they revealed their stories.

A letter from agent Adder:

Noon

Count Carranza’s palace

Observation: horsemen bearing the insignia of the empire arrived here, at the palace of count Carranza, one of the well known nobles inside the empire boundary. They forced themselves inside the palace even when the count refused to let them in. They seem to be threatening him. I work as one of Carranza’s stable boy as a cover and I saw they took something from the room in which Carranza hid his most valued possessions. It looked like a … tome? It’s wrapped in cloth and I can’t see it well but I bet it was a tome.

The men left without further ado. Obviously, they’re onto something. And they want it to be done fast.

I’ll continue observing the count in the meantime. As usual, this letter will erase itself moments after you read it. So be cautious. This letter will not appear until the fourth moon, as a precaution if ever this falls to the wrong hands.

-For our cause-

Mrs. Yaktu stuffed it back as the words slowly dissolve within the paper. Then she took out the next parchment:

A letter from agent Python:

Sunrise

Outskirts of Rottoundale

Observation: I’ve been acting as a merchant on the outskirts of Kiev’s empire, Rottoundale. I’ve seen imperial scribes rummaging other merchants for some reason. They seem to be looking for an artifact they call the “gold stone”. As far as I can remember, it goes formally by the name of the Philosopher’s stone. But, it cannot be created, right? That’s impossible. A stone that magnitude exists only in alchemy books. Or is it? Likewise, I am observing the imperial scribes and they demand for a “gold stone” and would pay a huge amount of gold to any merchant who could show them a hint about the stone. I smell trouble here. These gold may be from taxation so the empire could get their hands to this stone.

I’ll have this letter delivered in a peculiar way. By now this would have been inside the tavern. Just look for it. I know you’ll find it.

-Long live Lesallia-

Again, the half-orc lady wrapped it away and pulled the last parchment, but this one was smaller than the other two, and the paper was torn in places:

A letter from Sidewinder:

Midnight

Root forest

Observation: As you have ordered, I followed the imperial caravan. The caravan is heavily guarded as usual so I can’t exactly spot what they are up to. They stopped at a clearing, and there is a hut in the middle of the forest. The jars, specimen and weird stuff that lay outside the hut tells me it belongs to an alchemist. But here in root forest?

They got someone. I cant believe I’m gonna say this, its Leon, the philosopher that seldom comes to the tavern. What does the empire want with him?

They have scribes with them, high looking wizards and druids. What is this about? This is too risky. I’m falling back to

The rest of his letter was drenched in blood. Whether he survived the ordeal or not remained a mystery. Keira suppressed a sob. She was sure of one thing. One, dreadful truth embraced her in the cold night. Her Leon was attempting it again – the recreation of the legendary Philosopher’s stone.