B3 Interlude 10: The Unmasked

Ro stomped her way across the office, resisting the urge to shatter a chair against the wall and scream. Pacing didn’t help, but shattered axles, what else could she do?

“Whisper was right, the bastard’s a fucking moron — he knew nothing! Nothing!”

Everything out of that backstabbing rat’s mouth had been useless. He hadn’t even been able to coherently explain why a minor noble from Greenseed was playing criminal in Deadacre in the first place! The gibbering ravings of a narcissist, seemingly choosing the setting for his ‘grand plan’ on a whim.

Oh, they’d learned who’d sold Kaius and the boys out — first the long missing Jorn, then that snake of a scout Ingle. The latter was now rotting in the keep’s cells, and would stay there for a long long time.

None of that mattered! It was all meaningless if they couldn’t find the boys before some twisted prick of a mindcracker left them drooling and broken.

Even when Rondal had spilled his guts about everything he knew of Old Yon’s operations, it was clear that the crime lord had trusted ‘Grave-eye’ about as much as she trusted her guild members to fill out their paperwork properly.

She’d hit every single safe house, meeting spot, and known associate that Rondal had mentioned. They’d been empty — cleaned out weeks ago! Of everything! Not a single scrap of paper, or a single member of Old Yon’s troupe had been left behind. The bastard had vanished like a ghost, leaving no sign of where, or even how he’d cleaned up every trace that he’d even existed.

They were stuck back at the start — she had a name now, but that was it. Nothing actionable. It burned.

Rieker pushed his way out of his seat as she continued to pace. Strong hands gripped her shoulders, holding her in place for a moment before he pulled her into a tight hug.

“Easy, Ro — we’ll find them. No one cleans up perfectly; they’ll have left a trace. We both know that you’ll find it, I’ve never met a better rogue in my life — a frightened criminal won’t best ya. All we need is a single slip up, and we’ll be on their trail again.”

“We don’t have time, Rieker! For all we know there’s already a mindmage on their way — and only the gods know what these scum will attempt before they commit to that cost.”

“We might do.” Rieker’s voice reverberated through her chest, taking the edge of her fury. “If there’s one thing this bloody beast migration has done, it’s utterly fucked anyone who’s wanted to cross the frontier — I’ve heard word from as far as Grandbrook that random swarms have hit caravans. Nothing as bad as here, but enough that people are staying firmly behind solid walls until more is known about what’s happening.”

Ro sighed, slipping out of her partner’s arms. The migration — as if the boy’s kidnapping wasn’t enough. The gods seemed dead set on making her life as difficult as they possibly could.

“What of that, anyway? Have our scouting teams found anything?”

Rieker frowned, shaking his head slightly. “Nothing but a trail of destruction and bodies — the villages in their path were levelled. No survivors.”

Fucking great. Ro bit her lip.

“Nothing? No sign of where they’re congregating? Or what’s caused the behaviour?”

“Nothing. I’ve pulled the teams back — they’ve already gone two weeks out of the city, any further and we’re risking manpower that we desperately need.”

Fantastic. Without knowing what had triggered the change, they had no way of knowing if it would repeat, or if it could be prevented. It seemed to be simple luck that had saved them from the ire of an army of beasts. The walls of Deadacre were strong, and the beasts hadn’t grown so strong that they would break through easily, but a whole army? Only the gods themselves knew if they could have handled that.

If, gods forbid, they broke into the city? It would have been a slaughter — they didn’t have anywhere near the delvers they would need to handle a threat of that scale. Nor were her guild members soldiers. If it came down to laying down their lives to give the general citizenry a chance to escape, how many would do so? Especially if they were burdened with the knowledge that they were strong enough to spirit themselves and those they cared about to safety?

The number who would flee at the first sign of an approaching horde were higher than she cared to think about. Could she blame them? Could she even say that she would do differently?

Many delvers would happily leap into danger to save a fellow guildy — but a random faceless mass of citizens was a different story.

Ro frowned and let herself be pulled into another of Rieker’s hugs.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

“Turn that brain off for one moment, woman — you’re going to give yourself a bloody headache.”

Pushing the endless and growing pile of problems out of her mind, Ro leaned against her partner and tried to relax — only for a knock to come from the door to Rieker’s office.

Ro snapped to the sound, before sharing a confused look with Rieker. Who the hell could that be? Everyone allowed up to this level of the guildhall knew better than to intrude on their limited time together.

“Sorry to interrupt.”

Was that Frist? One of her assistants definitely knew better than to come up here for no reason — it had to be something important.

She stepped out of Rieker’s arms, and straightened her shirt as they moved behind his desk. As Rieker took his seat, she stood at his right — even if their relationship was known and sanctioned, there was still propriety to uphold.

“What is it, Frist?” Rieker asked, his voice low and professionally even.

“I’ve got a Diolin Silverfeather with me — said he wished to discuss Rondal with you — considering the circumstances I figured it was best to bring him right to you.” her assistant’s voice was shaky and more than a little nervous.

Ro shared a hard look with Rieker, her hand drifting to the pommel of her sword. Rieker gave her a slight nod, his own hand reaching for the hammer he kept hooked to the underside of his desk.