A Promise of Fire

The sun had set as Emecar and Rukifelth marched through the slums, trudging their way past large piles of garbage and filth that lined the roads. Only around a dozen officers were stationed in each of the city’s southern districts at any given time. An oddly low number given that the slums were believed to be the city’s haven for nogoodniks and ruffians, but why would the High Lord care about those living in the slums? Instead of protecting the people, the objective of theses watchmen was to keep the troublesome elements of the city’s southern districts contained to itself. It didn’t matter if a couple of drunkards beat one another to death, just make sure it stays where the good people of Lionbrand don’t see it.

Most of the officers behaved rather cordially, offering them warm greetings, but there were still those who saw the two as untrustworthy mercenaries. They believed that the two would turn on the watch if someone paid them a couple extra coins. No good came from trusting a mercenary, and especially not a human mercenary; the work was dirty and dishonorable.

Emecar recalled a time when he and Rukifelth wanted to become watchmen. It seemed a noble pursuit, helping those in need, and protecting the streets from criminals and ne’er-do-wells, but the reality soon hit Emecar not long after they became adults and left the temple. They began their training, rigorously working to prove themselves as capable combatants and worthy of their badges, but their successes were never acknowledged, and after a series of frustrating arguments with their senior officers, the two were discharged.

However, looking back on it, Emecar was rather relieved to have been kicked from the watch as a spry cadet. Looking around, he noticed that while most watchmen were elves, the watchmen patrolling the slums were predominantly human. If he and Rukifelth did follow through with their training, they’d most likely have been posted here along with them, left to rot for years to come.

As they entered the district’s watch station, they were met by a young human officer with bright blond hair wearing a wrinkled gray coat that was just a touch too big for him at the front entrance. He said, “Evening, gentlemen. State your business?”

Emecar handed the officer their license. The man took their license and gave it a quick read before gesturing for the two to follow. They marched through the halls of the station and past the leering eyes of the other watchmen until they eventually reached the dingey door to the sergeant’s office. The officer gave a quick knock and then backed away.

It took around a minute for the sergeant to open the door, a tall Elven man with peppered-gray hair and deep bags under his eyes. The sergeant’s gray coat was much leaner and far more fitting than that of the young officer’s. He had a single golden epaulette over his left shoulder, and he carried a black tricorne hat under his arm. Unlike the lesser officers armed with just muskets and cudgels, the sergeant had a sabre on his hip.

He glared at the young officer, who sheepishly stepped back, and shouted, “Officer Tabard, who are these men?”

“Pardon me, sir,” said the officer giving a weak salute. “These men are here to—”

Sergeant Astier yanked the license from Officer Tabard’s grip and quickly read it over. He saw Lieutenant Vechelot’s signature, as well as her official signet, and looked up at Emecar and Rukifelth.

“This is what the troupe has to offer,” he said with a scoff. His lips curled into a snarl, and he uttered a single word under his breath. Emecar couldn’t hear him, but it didn’t take a lip reader to see he’d muttered the word, “Pathetic.” Astier rolled up the license and haphazardly tucked it into his coat pocket. “Well, I suppose any help is better than none; just don’t cause a commotion, understand? Since you’re already acquainted, you two will be assisting Officer Tabard here. I want you on patrol down near the blocks of Treesfield and Emmet’s place; Officer Tabard knows the locale.”

“B-But, sergeant,” said Tabard, “I-I thought you wanted me—”

Astier’s eyes bored down on Tabard as he sheepishly backed aside. The sergeant continued: “You are to keep an eye out for any suspicious activity; if you see something, investigate, and then report. You are to stay out until daybreak or until you receive word to return. If you’ve any questions, I believe Officer Tabard here will be able to answer them. Am I understood?”

Tabard shook his head nervously, and it was Rukifelth who bowed first and said, “Bright as sunlight, sir. Before we go, would you care to sign off on that license for when we get back?”

Sergeant Astier scowled at Rukifelth, apparently unamused with him speaking so casually to him, a superior officer. With a huff, he said, “Fine,” and slammed the door to the office.

Once alone, Officer Tabard said, “S-Sorry about all that. Honestly, the sergeant ain’t always that irritable.”

“I don’t believe that,” said Rukifelth. He looked out and scanned the faces of the other officers in the station, and pointed out that nearly all the human officers gave a chuckle at the sergeant’s expense, and the elves all glared at them disapprovingly. “Your sergeant seems just about as happy as all the other elves in your platoon.”

“No need to be rude,” said Emecar nudging him in the side. “We’re not here to make enemies; we’re here to make money.”

“You think I’m rude,” Rukifelth snipped, just loud enough for the other officers to hear. “Did you hear how that bug-eyed oaf spoke to us? There’s not a doubt in my mind that the other elves in this platoon would treat us with the same respect!”

Emecar heard all manner of swears muttered at them from the other officers. “Brother…” he whispered, but Rukifelth turned aside, rubbing his bandage wrapped hand.

Awkwardly, Officer Tabard cleared his throat to break the silence. “I-I’m terribly sorry, but shall we get going? I’d rather not get the sergeant even more frustrated with me, eh?”

Emecar saw the man’s cheeks flush red. He looked around and saw that most of the watchmen, even the humans, were pointing and jeering at them; whether it be mockingly or maliciously, he couldn’t tell.

Officer Tabard led them down the road to the furthest edges of the city. The cluttered ramshackle buildings and shanties grew more sparce and rustic the further out they went. Buildings made from wood instead of brick that stood only a single story tall, with wide grass yards for gardening and handling animals; homes which once belonged to the farmers and fieldworkers of Lionbrand before all had been privatized by the wealthy nobles. It felt completely different; like that of a small town such as Merzel’s Field or Redline rather than the outskirts of Singard’s southern capital.

There were no dark alleyways or crowded streets, nor were there the tall streetlamps that illuminated the roads. Instead, the only lights came from lanterns hanging outside homes and small establishments. There was so much space to move about, and they were expected to search for any, “suspicious activity.”

Emecar scoffed. It was all just busy work. The sergeant didn’t want to deal with a couple of mercenaries on his watch; he didn’t want to risk them causing any trouble, so instead he gave them a post far enough out of the way where he wouldn’t need to think about them. Emecar knew there wouldn’t be anything going on this far south except for the occasional wild animal that strayed into the streets, or perhaps a drunkard on his way home from the tavern, but easy money was easy money.

Once the road signs reading “Treesfield” and “Emmet’s Place” came into view, the three began patrolling the rustic neighborhood, walking back and forth, occasionally peaking over small-fenced fields to investigate if the sounds were just that of grunting pigs and goats, or a thief trying to steal them. At one point, a man with a musket kicked open his own door and threatened the men for walking onto their property. Once he saw Officer Tabard, his tune immediately changed, and he swiftly apologized deeply for offending them.

They had meandered around for nearly an hour when they heard the crunch of footsteps approach from behind: a fellow officer–with sunken, tired gray eyes–carrying an old lantern, wearing a ragged gray watchman’s coat, and disheveled brown hair beneath an old, tattered tricorne hat.

“G’evening, Lafayette,” said Tabard. “What are you doing out here?”

The other officer grunted, glaring at Emecar and Rukifelth, before saying, “Thanks for dragging me into this. Got quite the earful from the sergeant.”

“B-But, I didn’t…” stammered Tabard. He cleared his throat and said, “It was the sergeant’s decision, not mine!”

“Yeh, yeh,” said Lafayette waving the younger officer aside. He turned to Emecar and Rukifelth and said, “The name’s Bruno Lafayette; a pleasure to make your acquaintance. So, you two be the sellswords from the troupe, aren’t’cha? Oh, sergeant had some strong words about you two: trouble makers and all that.”

“Why would he say that,” said Rukifelth, “ we’d barely even said ten words to the man.”

“Said you were sellswords,” jeered Lafayette. “That’s all he needed to know about you two. It doesn’t hurt that you’re just a couple of humans like Tabard and I.”

 Rukifelth snarled and tightly clenched his fists. Emecar quickly stepped between them and said, “Well, it’s an honor to meet you Officer Lafayette. You seem like an honorable man.” The officer sniffed, not impressed with Emecar’s compliment. Emecar cleared his throat and continued: “My name is Emecar Valen, and this is my brother, Rukifelth Asphodel. We received word that the watch needed help and we—”

“Mhm.” Lafayette made his way past the three and turned down a small gravel side road. “C’mon, now. I know a place where we can rest our legs for a bit.”

“Rest,” joked Rukifelth jokingly, “but you just got here?”

“Yeh? And I wasn’t supposed to be, so I needs a rest.”

They followed Lafayette until they reached a small wood cabin tucked far away from the other small houses. He knocked on the door three times and waited as an Elven man slowly opened up.

“G’evening, officer,” the man said. “What can I do for you at this hour?”

“Evenin’, Augustin. May we come in?”

The man looked past Officer Lafayette and back at Emecar, Rukifelth, and Tabard. “A couple of guests, have we?”

“Aye, we do,” said Lafayette. “Mind if we come in and relax for a bit between patrols?”

Augustin gestured to the four men to enter the cabin. The floor was littered with sawdust and nails, but it was warm and filled with delightfully earthy smells of stew and coffee. It also contained some of the most lavish and beautifully crafted furniture Emecar had ever seen. At the center of the cabin was a master-crafted wooden table fit for a High Lord, and the wardrobes and cupboards were decorated with the finest and most detailed carvings. Emecar couldn’t imagine how much time, finesse, and dedication it would take to craft such a piece, let alone so many.

Near the far end of the cabin was a human woman cooking over a wood-burning stove. She looked a few years older than Emecar, but she had a small streak of gray in her brown hair as well as a green silk marriage ribbon tied around her neck.

Lafayette set his lantern down near the front door and introduced them all to Augustin Brugiér, a smalltime woodworker, and his wife Gwendolyn. Looking around the small cabin, Emecar was dumbfounded to learn that all of the house’s furniture had been crafted by Augustin. He then set his musket down near the Lafayette’s lantern and plopped himself down on one of the chairs.

Tabard winced and said, “Lafayette, you know we ain’t supposed to do this. We could get in trouble.”

“Eh, we’ll be fine,” said the older officer. “Ain’t no way the sergeant is gonna send someone down to check up on us, even with those two freeloaders there.” Emecar raised an eye; surely, he wasn’t talking about them, was he? “Now go ahead, and kick your feet up, er, metaphorically, of course; Augustin here’d have my head if we scuffed up his table.”

Emecar looked to the young couple and said, “I hope we’re not intruding at this hour.”

“No, not at all,” said Augustin. His voice was distant. He sat awkwardly at his workbench in the corner and began fiddling away at a small piece of wood. Emecar tried to peak at what he was making but couldn’t quite make it out.

“Relax, boys. Augustin’s been my friend for a couple years now,” said Lafayette. “Whenever I need time to just sit back and relax during a long shift, he and the missus have always been kind to me.”

“Is this really what you do at night, Lafayette,” asked Tabard.

“Beats walking out there in the hot air, eh,” said Lafayette. Gwendolyn brought a small cup of coffee and set it on the table next to him. He thanked her and said, “Don’t get yourselves all in a tizzy. Once the lovely couple here go to hit the hay, we’ll be out and get back to work. But, in the meantime, take advantage of the hospitality while you can.”

Neither Augustin nor Gwendolyn seemed to mind, so Emecar figured he wouldn’t either. He, Rukifelth, and Tabard doffed their equipment and set it on the wall beside Lafayette’s as Gwendolyn brought them each a hot cup of coffee and a small plate of biscuits. The four sat around the table while Augustin continued fiddling away in the corner absent mindedly.

After a few moments of casual chatter, Emecar asked Lafayette and Tabard if they’d heard anything about the rumors involving the fae: “When Rukifelth and I were down in Coldan Cove we heard about fae nabbing up children, and just this mornin’ I heard a local mention strange goings on in Amber Meadows.”

It was Gwendolyn who chimed in first. “Y-Yes, m-my husband and I believe something could be going on.”

“Such as,” asked Rukifelth popping a pinch of tacleaf into his lip. Gwendolyn bit her lip and looked over at Augustin who was still apathetically chiseling away some minor details on his current project.

“Eh, well,” started Lafayette, “Augustin has been tellin’ me about the strange goings on in the neighborhood. What was it you were tellin’ me? Strange noises, rattling windows, and a bunch of insects, right? Well honestly, I ain’t seen nothin’ out of the ordinary lately, but—”

“You don’t understand,” said Augustin, dropping his woodblock and chisel. Gwendolyn rushed to his side to calm him down, and Emecar saw terror flash in the man’s eyes. “I swear I hear them. I know they’re out there, b-but I can’t risk going to check. I can’t let them in.”

“Surely, you’ve noticed the fog growing thicker,” said Gwendolyn.

Emecar thought about their patrol; there had been a thin veneer of fog along the ground, but nothing to worry about, he thought. He looked at the closed windows and wondered if he could open the shutters to take a peek. Had the fog grown in the small amount of time since they’d been inside? Would they find something? He wondered…

“Fae ain’t gonna attack,” said Lafayette. He groaned and took another swig of his coffee. “You’re too close to the city, you oaf. Fae don’t approach the city; too many people and the like.”

“But the fog!”

“Between the cracks with the fog,” said Lafayette. “Until I hear something for myself, these fae are just stories; they’re—”

A crash outside echoed into the small house. Everyone froze.

Augustin’s eyes darted back and forth between the door and Lafayette. “Y-Y’see! I told you they’re out there!”

“You’re just imagining things. That could’ve been anything: a twig snapping, or maybe someone’s goat got loose, or a cat or some other vermin,” said Lafayette. “There’s no reason to assume it’s faecraft.”

Emecar sat up and made his way to the window. He and Rukifelth had dealt with fae before, though only briefly: a couple of kobolds who’d try to steal their coins and trinkets while they were on the road, but they were nothing malicious.

Quietly, he creaked open its shutters just enough so he could peak outside. It was dark, and almost impossible to see anything except for the faint lantern and candle lights that shone from the other nearby houses. However, what he could see, however, was that the fog really had grown thicker.

“Come on, come on,” said Lafayette. “Let’s all just gather round and relax for a bit longer. We’ll finish our coffee, and then, once our lovely hosts head off to bed, we’ll finish our patrol, alright?”

Emecar thought that sounded reasonable, but he wasn’t sure how much he liked the idea. There was something outside; he could feel it. He tightened the scabbard on his belt and went to rejoin the others back at the table. He looked over at his musket and shield resting on the wall; hopefully, he wouldn’t need them..

Lafayette went about gossiping and chatting with Tabard about official watch business, that Emecar thought sounded rather personal and not like something the likes common pedestrians like Augustin or Gwendolyn should be hearing, but the officer went about loudly without a care. Emecar didn’t pay them much heed, and instead kept his eyes focused on the windows and door.

“So, a couple of sellswords,” said Lafayette chomping down on a biscuit. “Tell us, what’s that like?”

Rukifelth smiled and said, “More exciting than this, I say.”

“Lots of traveling,” said Emecar. “Lots of days out on the road between towns, and a lot of time camping out beneath the moon to save on some coin.”

Lafayette let out a loud groan as he stretched his back. “By fire, my old back couldn’t take that. Honestly, I don’t see what so many have against you folk. Seems like you do similar work to us.”

“Yes, I suppose we do,” said Emecar.

“What about you, Lafayette,” asked Rukifelth. “How long’ve you been with the city-watch?”

“Comin’ up on fourteen years now,” he said. Though he smiled when he said it, there was no pride in his voice, and instead, only a subtle yet bitter disdain.

Rukifelth turned to Tabard and asked the same question. A bit nervously, Tabard said, “Me? A-At the end of this month, it’ll be a year.”

“Really now?” Rukifelth shifted his gaze between the two officers. He took a sip of his coffee and said, “Fourteen years and one year, yet both of you are still working the slums at night. Not very fair if I do say.”

There was a long, awkward silence between the two officers, and Rukifelth seemed very proud of himself, as if he’d just exposed the watch’s deepest secrets.

“Well, uh, h-how long’ve the two of you been with the troupe,” asked Tabard.

“Coming up on three years,” said Emecar finally relaxing. He took his eyes from the window and said, “Y’know, we originally planned on joining the watch. Trained as cadets and everything.”

“Didya now,” said Lafayette. Emecar saw a small, upward curl on his lip. “What happened?”

Emecar leaned back in his chair and said, “It was about four years ago now, we trained with Sergeant, er, what was his name, Rukifelth?”

“Mignard,” groaned Rukifelth.

“Yes, that’s right, Sergeant Mignard. Dreadful old man, I say. Well, Rukifelth and I got into a bit of a spat with him, and—”

Augustin leapt from his work bench and pointed at the closed window. “Y-You heard that right!”

Emecar and the others looked at one another; had they heard anything? Emecar certainly hadn’t. He stood and made his way to the window, peeking through its shutters to the outside.

“There’s nothing out there,” he said.

“I-I swear, I heard them scream,” said Augustin. Gwendolyn, took him in her arms as he began panting. “I tells you, they’re out there!”

Emecar turned back to the others, each of them unsure of what to do next. He swallowed hard and made his way to the front door to pick up his shield and musket. “Why don’t we go take a quick look, eh? See if there’s anything hiding out there, brother?”

Rukifelth sneered but didn’t argue. The two grabbed their equipment and prepared to depart; Emecar had the two officers stay with the Brugiérs until they got back.

Once outside, Rukifelth turned to Emecar and said, “Why are you entertaining this man? The man’s clearly insane.”

“It’s worth at least a look,” said Emecar.

He scanned the street for anything suspicious or out of the ordinary. Surprisingly, like Augustin had said, fog had grown thicker.

Surely this isn’t enough for the fae to break into our world, is it?

Emecar’s eyes strained against the darkness and growing fog. He couldn’t help but feel nervous as he thought he saw it grow thicker the longer they patrolled.

Suddenly, Rukifelth raised his hand and said, “Wait, I hear something.”

“What? A believer now, are ya?”

“I’m serious, Emecar,” he sneered. “Look!”

He pointed his sabre down the road; Emecar’s eyes strained against the darkness, but eventually he caught sight of what Rukifelth was pointing at: hiding in the shadows was something the size of a dog with dark, leathery skin and several long, spindly legs that looked more like fingers than legs. When the creature seemingly saw them and quickly scurried away back into the darkness.

Emecar’s hand was firmly gripped to his sword. He turned to Rukifelth and said, “You saw that, right?”

Rukifelth nodded, and the two slowly and carefully followed the path of the strange creature. There was no doubt in Emecar’s mind now that something was amiss. He may have only had human eyes, but he refused to believe his eyes would deceive him like this.

As they marched deeper and deeper into the darkness, the fog continued to grow thicker and thicker, until eventually Emecar began to lose sight of the candles and lanterns at the nearby houses.

“Stay close,” he said, but nothing came out. Emecar stumbled for a moment, unsure of what silence had overtaken him. He quickly turned to Rukifelth, but his brother was gone; vanished into the mist. “Brother,” he called out again, but still nothing. Emecar unsheathed his sabre and held it at the ready. Something wasn’t right.

From the wall of fog, the creature from before had pounced at Emecar. On the creature’s belly–the palm of this hand–was a circular mouth filled with jagged, yellow fangs; on its back was a singular bloodshot eye: childnappers, devious fae that dragged its victims back into the realm of the fae.

Emecar raised his shield as the creature collided into him and knocked him to the ground. Its maw tried to latch onto him, but it couldn’t get past Emecar’s shield.  

Emecar sucked in a deep breath and envisioned a flame burning in his heart; he saw the flame flicker to life in an instant, turning from a small candlelight into a raging bonfire.

As he exhaled, thin wisps of blue light—billowing like smoke—began to glow around Emecar’s arms and legs: blue Aether, the color of transmutation. Emecar felt his body grow lighter and his muscles stronger. He kicked out with his legs and sent the childnapper soaring back several paces back.

Quickly hopping to his feet, Emecar tried once again to  call out for Rukifelth, but nothing; it felt as if the fog itself muffled his words, as if it had stolen his voice.

What’s worse was that more childnappers began to emerge from the fog. They prowled around him like beasts stalking their prey, and though at first there were only a few, more and more began to emerge; firs there was two, but then a third appeared, and then a fourth, and before he knew it, Emecar couldn’t keep track of them.

Emecar kept the image of the flame burning in his mind, and the Aether continued to flow around him.

One of the childnappers lunged from behind, but Emecar quickly ducked out of the way, and in the same motion, plunged his sabre through the jagged mouth of the fae. The creature writhed, its finger-like legs spindling out and trying to desperately grab hold of its prey in its last gasp of life.

Before Emecar had time to think, a second childnapper attacked and then a third. With his Aether enhancing his speed, Emecar was able to duck and weave away from the creatures, but in doing so, distancing himself from the Brugiér’s home. He tried to circle around them, but more and more fae continued to emerge from the fog. No matter how many he struck down, another would take its place.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Emecar saw a light flicker and heard a door creak open. In the brief moment his attention wavered, a childnapper lashed out at him. He raised his shield, but the large fae knocked it aside and dug its fangs into him, latching on tight and pinning his sword arm.

Unable to protect himself, other childnappers began to descend upon him. Emecar tried to wrangle himself free, but the fae’s gnarled teeth dug deep. Sucking in another sharp breath, Emecar changed the vision of the flame: instead of a raging bonfire, he instead envisioned the flame wrapping around his body, warming him. The blue Aether began to shift, changing hue until it was violet, the color of abjuration.

Where blue Aether could enhance his strength and speed, violet Aether was used to protect oneself from attacks both physical and aethereal. However, most important for Emecar at this moment, was the color of abjuration’s ability to banish otherworldly creatures back to the realms from which they came.

The fae latched to his arm began to squeal and shriek as if it was grabbing hold of a hot iron. It released Emecar from its grip and allowed him just enough time to skewer it through with his sabre. Though his strength was diminished, his sword cut through the fae even easier than before: like a hot knife through butter.

Emecar spun around, swinging wildly at the small horde of attacking fae. Seeing Emecar wreathed in the violet Aether of abjuration, the fae treaded more cautiously around him. He stared them down, his sabre at the ready, and knew they wouldn’t be scared of him for long.

How is this possible? Where did they come from?

Looking down, Emecar could see that his Aether had dispelled the fog around him; the fog wasn’t natural after all, but faecraft, he realized. He focused his gaze at the childnappers as they tried to approach him, but he realized they couldn’t step far from the fog. As long as he could maintain his concentration and keep the fog dispersed, he’d be safe.

He swung his sword, threatening them to stay away, as he ran back to where he thought the Brugiérs’ home was. From behind, he heard the fae skittering closer; a quick glance over his shoulder showed that the fog was closing in, and though it couldn’t enshroud him for now, it was only a matter of time before his Aether gave out.

Emecar turned back just in the nick of time as he quickly stopped and ducked out of the way of Officer Tabard who was staring at him in awe and disbelief in the middle of the street.

“W-What are you doing here,” Emecar shouted. He swallowed awkwardly; his voice had somehow returned. The officer stared at him dumbfounded, as if he himself forgot what he was doing.

“I heard you scream,” he said. “Y-You were calling out for help.”

Emecar shook his head. He hadn’t done that, had he? Tabard’s eyes widened, and he shrieked with terror at one of the fae emerging from the fog. Quickly, Emecar grabbed the officer and yanked him aside as a childnapper pounced, just barely missing its mark.

Tabard stared in disbelief as the creature skittered back into the fog, and then to Emecar. “Y-You’re…you…”

Before he could say anything else, Emecar the skittering grow louder. He grabbed hold of Tabard and said, “No time,” and tried once again to cry out for Rukifelth.

Just as before, the fog muffled his voice. It had to have been a trick of the fae; something about the fog was consuming his shouts, yet seemingly leaving his whispers alone.

Cursing under his breath, Emecar grabbed Tabard’s arm and began to drag him through the fog. If they could find their way through the darkened, foggy streets and regain their senses, it would be easier to fight back.

Though he maintained his concentration on the color of abjuration, the fog was growing thicker by the second, and the childnappers were growing more and more relentless; it didn’t matter Emecar had kept his ward of Aether active, if too many of them attacked, it’d be as meaningless as his shield against cannon fire.

More fae emerged from the thick walls of white fog, and though Emecar could cut down one, two more would take its place. They charged him as if they had no care for their own being; perhaps they didn’t, thought Emecar. From the stories he’d heard, childnappers were often the servants of greater archfae, tasked with bringing children from Ark back to the realm of the fae where they’d be devoured or cursed for their master’s enjoyment.

Emecar tried to think: was something controlling them? If so, where would their leader be hidning? Could he even fight an archfae controlling this many minions?

Emecar felt something sharp dig into his back. He yelped, thrashing around wildly as another fae barreled itself into him and knocking him down. With him pinned, the fae latched its mouth into his shoulder, its fangs digging deep and holding tight.

Through the pain, Emecar struggled to envision the heat from the fire wrapping around his body. Faint flickers of Aether swirled around his body, the color of abjuration searing the fae’s flesh. It let out a pained squeal, and though its grip weakened, it refused to let him go.

Emecar’s Aether was weakening; he’d been maintaining it for too long, and he didn’t have the knowledge or understanding of how to properly control it. If he continued to push himself, he could end up severing his soul from his body, but if he didn’t, the fae would overwhelm him and Tabard.

The fog continued to encroach upon them, seemingly unaffected by the Emecar’s ward of violet Aether. With every breath he took, it felt as if the fog itself was coiling around his neck and chest. He could hear the muffled screams of Tabard struggling against the fae; a man who couldn’t perform the Aethereal Artes was no match for this many fae. He closed his eyes; he needed to concentrate.

Protect the innocent.

Emecar envisioned the flame surrounding him grow hotter and hotter until it became nearly unbearable. As he did, the violet Aether surrounding him grew more and more vibrant, and the squeals of the fae grew more painful. In a flash, Aether burst from Emecar’s body: the fae screamed and disappeared, and the fog had dispersed around them.

It felt as if all the air had been ripped from his lungs; exerting that much Aether was not something he could do frequently, but in dire situations, he was left with no choice. Emecar struggled to his feet–his head spinning–and saw Tabard staring dumbfounded at him.

With his Aether severely taxed, Emecar fell to his knees. He gestured for Tabard to run as fast and as hard as he could towards an opening in the fog, revealing the empty streets of the Lionbrand slums.

“I-I’ll be…behind you,” he panted.

Tabard shook his head, but as the fog began to reform itself around them, and the sound of skittering fae filled the night air, Tabard broke out into a sprint. Emecar stumbled up to his feet and followed right behind, striking down the approaching fae, who seemed to grow more restless as the night progressed and the fog grew thicker.

Emecar wasn’t an adept; at least he didn’t think of himself as one. Though he knew the basics of the Aethereal Artes, he couldn’t do much more than that. Much like one could swing a sword or fire a musket, that didn’t make one a swordsman or rifleman. He was an amateur just swinging a sword, but sometimes that’s all he needed.

Through the darkness, Emecar thought he recognized some familiar landmarks; they were close to the Brugiér home. He prayed that Rukifelth was alright; perhaps he’d already made it back.

Fae had strange rules; that much he knew. One of which, Emecar was familiar with, was that fae couldn’t force their way into a home unless welcomed in by a host. He didn’t know why, nor did he necessarily care, he just knew it to be true. If they could just make it inside, they’d be safe.

As Emecar ran, he suddenly felt as if he was running through thick mud. His legs grew heavy, and the air grew thick. He struggled to breathe, and suddenly, a strange haunting song rang in the air. As if ice overtook him, Emecar froze.

He stared ahead and standing there–looming in the fog–was a great shadow that towered above him. Though he strained to see it, Emecar saw four long arms, each with a hand containing dozens of gangly fingers. As the creature approached, the song grew louder, and the fog grew thicker.

Emecar wanted to run, but his knees buckled; still frozen. He couldn’t think; he tried to maintain his vision of the flame, but it was as if the song was all he could think about. He tried to raise his sword, but the song had him paralyzed; he was helpless. Even breathing grew more difficult.

From the fog emerged more childnappers, each one skittering closer and closer towards him and Tabard, but no longer were they aggressively towards them; now they just stalked around, patiently waiting for their next command.

Emecar’s hands trembled, and he closed his eyes.

Smite the wicked!

He drew a deep breath, focusing on nothing but the image of the flame surrounding his body. When Emecar opened his eyes, he felt the violet Aether pulse from his body, freeing him from the fae’s paralyzing grasp. It was weak, but it was enough.

The childnappers hissed as they were forced back into the vanishing fog, and at that moment, Emecar caught a glimpse of the beast standing before him: shrouded in a torn, bloodstained cloak and hood was a creature with gray stone-like skin. Where a face should’ve been was a featureless nothing, and instead it had dozens of eyes and mouths along its arms and across its body.

It was as if a nightmare was given form in the awakened world, and as its several dozen eyes fell upon Emecar, a horrifying laughter filled the night air.

“SucH A sILly boY,” one voice said.

“to THinK a MorTAl cOuLd DO sO mUCh,” said another.

“CaN wE KEep HiM? cAN We,” asked a third.

Emecar felt an icy chill run down his spine as the light of his Aether began to dwindle. He stumbled back, nearly forgetting about Tabard behind him. Emecar wanted to grab the officer and run, but before he could even try, the creature spoke again, and his feet were frozen in place yet again as the fog coiled around him. All the while the otherworldly melody and haunting voices filled the air.

“No, NO, dON’t GeT dIStrActED,” said the first voice.

“buT i WAnt Him,” said the second.

“sTOp BicKerINg,” said the third.

The monstrous fae took a step forward, and one of its long arms stretched out further than Emecar thought was possible. He shoved Tabard back to try and protect him as the fae’s gnarled hands latched around his neck. He felt jagged fangs like that of the childnappers sink into his flesh, and blood began to trickle from his wound. Emecar tried to break free of the creature’s grip, but the monster’s strength was beyond his own.

Try as he might, he couldn’t envision the flame; the song drowned out all thoughts. Desperately, he swung his sabre, but it bounced off the creature’s hide with no effect.

The creature pulled him closer, and the three voices all laughed, speaking in unison:

“OoH, i’m So eXCiTed!”

“ThIs oNE wiLL MAke A FIne ADdiTIon To oUr COllEctIOn!”

“foRGeT nOt WHy wE ArE HErE, siSteRS!”

“Yes, yes, we know.”

“She is so very close!”

“Yes! So very close indeed!”

Emecar twisted and pulled away from the creature as much as he could, but the fae’s otherworldly song sapped him of his energy. His sword fell from his grip, and his vision went dark. He’d dig his way out of this hole, he thought; after all, he’d been in tougher scraps before.

He lied.

As the song warped Emecar’s mind, he found himself thinking back to memories he’d long forgotten. He was playing with a little girl only about a year or two older than him, and she’d tricked him into digging through the garbage. There was a fight between two boys, and one of them was kicked into the dirt; Emecar helped him up, but the boy shoved him and ran off. There was snow–a lot of it–and this woman crying over him; he didn’t know this woman, yet she cried for him all the same. Emecar didn’t like seeing this woman cry.

Protect the innocent; heal the hurt; smite the wicked.

The words the woman spoke rang in Emecar’s ears; a voice loud enough to drown out the fae’s haunting voice. A nightmarish howl rang into the night air, and Emecar felt the monster’s grip loosen around his neck. He collapsed to the ground, gasping for air as his vision slowly returned. Hands trembling, he reached for his sabre and stumbled up to his feet. It was only then that he realized the fog had once again dispersed, and he was glowing with vibrant violet light.

His heart beat viciously, and it compelled him to keep fighting. He stood his ground against the towering fae, its eyes glowered down upon him.

A gun shot hung in the air, from somewhere behind Emecar, and though it did little to the fae, it distracted it just long enough for Emecar to lunge forward and plunge his sword into the belly of the beast. Howling in pain, the fae thrashed its arms to smash him to pulp.

Emecar knew he wouldn’t be able to block the attack; his arms had grown too weak to raise his shield, but just as the creature’s fists descended upon him, someone yanked him back.

The fae’s fists crashed into the ground, and Emecar looked back to see Rukifelth–covered in the surging blue and red Aether–standing above him. He looked terrible, like he’d been in just as much a scrap as Emecar: his coat was tattered, and blood was spattered across his hands and face. Beside him was Officer Lafayette, the barrel of his musket still smoking.

Rukifelth stepped forward, ready to face the fae alone, but the three voices called out again as the large fae stumbled away into the fog:

“inCRedULouS!”

“IMpuDeNt!”

“DiSGuStiNg!”

Just as quickly as the creature appeared, it was gone, and so to was the fog.

Emecar collapsed onto the cold ground, staring up at the blackened night sky and its thousands of stars. Now that it was over, he could feel just how much a toll it had put on his body. He groaned under the weight of his own body, and he could feel blood trickling from his neck, arms, and chest. His hands wouldn’t stop trembling, and there was a faint ringing in his ears. Another bout with death narrowly avoided.

This time it felt eerily close.

Rukifelth grabbed him underneath his arms and said, “C’mon, best not stick around. Who knows if that thing will come back.” There was a strange calmness in his voice, as if he’d done this dozens of times before. Emecar smiled and tried to speak, but nothing came out.

The four stumbled on their way back to the Brugiér’s small cabin home. The commotion had caused quite a stir in the neighborhood, as various folk emerged from their homes looking answers as to what was going on outside. Neither Officer Tabard nor Lafayette were fit to answer the public—what they’d just seen was something far beyond their paygrade—but Rukifelth was quick to say that a wolf had stumbled its way into the area. It wasn’t much of an answer, and many people didn’t think that’s all that was going on, but it was an answer nonetheless, and they retreated back inside.

Once back at the Brugiér’s, Augustin and Gwendolyn stared in utter horror at their condition. Rukifelth sat Emecar down in one of the chairs and began to mend his wounds. The only words Emecar was able to muster were: “Morgin’s leaf, yarrow, and marigolds.”

“I-knew it,” said Augustin. “I knew there were fae!” Rukifelth cursed at him, telling him this was not the time for, “I told you so’s.”

“W-What was that thing,” asked Lafayette. He had to have been asking about that fae with the four arms; the one that sang its horrible song.

Rukifelth shrugged. “Couldn’t tell ya.”

“I-It was something straight out of a nightmare,” said Tabard. Emecar looked at the young officer, and while he didn’t appear too severely injured, he did have a few cuts and scratches along his face and coat.

“You’re okay, aren’t’cha,” asked Emecar. His throat was soar; it was the first thing he’d been able to say since his rescue. Rukifelth seemed surprise to hear him speak at all. “What? I’ve been in tougher scrapes than that.”

Rukifelth smacked him on the back of the head, not hard enough to hurt but hard enough to make a point. He tightened a bandage around Emecar’s arm and said, “What were you thinkin’ running off on your own like that?”

“M-Me? You was the one who went and disappeared on me!”

“That’s not how I remember it,” said Rukifelth. After Emecar’s wounds had been properly bandaged, he began tending to himself. “Y’know, if not for all your glowing, I’d have never found you.”

“How can you two be so calm,” snapped Lafayette. “Are we going to ignore what just happened?” Emecar hadn’t seen it before, but the officer’s face was beaded with sweat, and his hands were shaking just as much as Emecar’s.

“We was attacked by fae,” muttered Emecar. “What else is there to say?”

Gwendolyn clutched tight to her dress skirt. “Y-You really did see fae out there, did you?” Emecar nodded. She bit her lip and said, “O-Once you two went out there, we didn’t hear anything. Officer Lafayette watched through the window and said the two of you just vanished into the dark. That’s when we heard you both scream.”

Tabard flinched and said, “T-That’s when I went out to find you, Valen. L-Lafayette told me to stay put, b-but I couldn’t just stand by and do nothing, y’know?”

“You should’ve,” snarled Rukifelth. He wiped the blood from his forehead and said, “All you did was get in the way. If not for you, Emecar wouldn’t be in this condition now, would he?”

“Don’t say that. It wasn’t his fault,” said Emecar, but the words had already been said. Tabard shrunk down into himself, leaning against the wall, and silently staring at the ground.

For the next hour, the four rested and took turns keeping watch outside should the fog return. Despite what they’d all been through, no one wanted to utter another word about what had happened.

Emecar struggled to believe it himself. He’d encountered fae before, but never anything like that. Fae were often tricksters—kobolds, pixies, and boggles—who acted alone to deceive mortals and lure them into Helhaym, but this? This was something far worse. It almost felt like it was a coordinated attack, and that’s now how he thought fae behaved.

When it was Emecar’s turn to take watch, he stumbled to the window and slowly creaked open the shutters. The air had grown cold, and though his strength was returning, he couldn’t stop thinking about his encounter with that monstrous four-armed fae, and its haunting song. It felt like something Emecar had seen before, or something he’d at least read about in a storybook, a nightmare given flesh; and what about those three voices? Whoever they were, to be able to control that many fae meant they would be a formidable foe.

Finally, it was Tabard who broke the silence. “S-So, adepts, huh?”

“You could say that,” said Emecar. Despite his rest, it felt like no matter how much or how hard he breathed, he couldn’t fill his lungs with enough air. He turned to Lafayette and Tabard and said, “Not quite on par with the crownsguard though, eh?”

“B-But you’re just mercenaries! Sellswords for hire,” he shouted. “How can you be sanctioned adepts?”

“An old policy from centuries ago,” said Rukifelth smugly. Tabard hushed as Rukifelth explained: “The Lionbrand Mercenary Troupe used to be made up of former military personnel and retired crownsguard. Y’know, adepts officially sanctioned by the High Lords of Singard. Well, it was simply presumed that all members of the troupe were—or at least could be—adepts; ergo we, two common men no different from either of you, are officially protected by the law to cast Aether so long as it’s in the line of duty and doesn’t interfere with or break any other established laws.”

“That’s ridiculous,” shouted Tabard.

“That’s politics,” said Emecar, “ridiculous and full of loopholes.”

Tabard didn’t look completely satisfied with their answer. In fact, he looked rather nervous. Emecar assumed he’d be grateful in this instance; if not for him being able to control his Aether–no matter how weak–they all would’ve been dragged off to Helhaym.

But he figured it would be pretty scary; while the troupe used to consist of trained military and crownsguard, it was now open for anyone to join so long as they had grit and determination. As long as those who knew the Aethereal Artes used them within the proper parameters, there wouldn’t be any trouble. There was a lot of paperwork involved if someone got hurt due to a troupe member’s negligence and carelessness. Even in instances of self-defense, troupe adepts were only allowed to cast Aether if their aggressor was also an adept. That rule, Emecar presumed, was most likely put in place to appease frustrated low-ranking city-watchmen who weren’t allowed to become sanctioned adepts themselves.

Once Emecar had finally caught his breath, he said, “I suppose we should report back to the sergeant, eh?”

Augustin and Gwendolyn pleaded with them to stay, but Emecar assured them they’d be safe as long as they closed all their windows and doors and refused to open them until daybreak. In reality, Emecar didn’t know if that would truly work against a creature like that four-armed fae, but any words of comfort, no matter how hollow, were better than none.

The walk back took the four a little over an hour. The fog had returned to the faint wisps along the street as to be expected, but every stray sound–every crack and skitter–caused the four to jump. When they arrived back at the station, all eyes were on them. There would be no hiding it: the four looked like they’d been in a fight, and when the sergeant saw them in their haggard condition, he stormed out of the station and shouted:

“Mother’s blessings, what did you cretins do?” He stomped up to them, glowering at Rukifelth and Emecar. “You disgraceful, worthless, inférals! What’s the meaning of this? What did you do to my men?”

Rukifelth snarled back. “Us? You think we did this to ourselves?”

The sergeant ignored him and said, “You know, you two have been awfully suspicious since your arrival. Why, I have every right to report you to Commander Dior, and see you both imprisoned, what do you think of that?”

Out of the corner of his eye. Emecar saw the sergeant’s hand hover over his sword hilt. “We were attacked sir,” said Emecar.

“Oh really? By whom,” snapped the sergeant.

Emecar looked reluctantly at Rukifelth, and then back to the two officers. All of their eyes said the same thing, and Emecar turned back to the sergeant to say, “Fae, sir.”

The sergeant looked offended, as if Emecar had just slapped him across the face or spat on his shoes. His face flashed a bright pink as he shouted, “Fae? You think this is a joke, boy?”

“H-He’s not lying, sir,” said Lafayette stepping forward. His legs trembled, almost as if he was about to collapse any minute. “Tabard and I, w-we—”

“I don’t want to hear your excuses,” roared Astier. He sneered at Emecar and Rukifelth, his hand clenched on the hilt of his sabre. “The city-watch has had no such issue with fae before tonight, not even the odd sighting, yet suddenly, when we’re short of men and the troupe send us two nasty humans, we have an attack? Is that what you mean to tell me?”

“You think your men are lying on our behalf? Ha, what a fool,” sneered Rukifelth. “I knew you lot were stupid, but this is outrageous!”

Astier’s grip tightened around the hilt of his sword, and his eyes looked like they were about to bulge from his skull. Emecar wasn’t sure about this man, but surely, he wasn’t foolish enough to attack them, was he? In their current condition, maybe the sergeant did believe he could fight them outnumbered, or perhaps he believed he could convince his superiors that he’d caught them up to no good, or that they’d attacked him first and he’d claim self-defense.

The sergeant let out a long hiss-like breath before saying, “No, I don’t believe you did this to yourselves. I believe what happened was that you all snuck out of the city and were attacked by wolves or the like, or maybe pissed off the odd drunkard who came after you with a bottle, but no I do not believe this to be fae!” Emecar was ready to snap back at the man, but the man continued before he could get a word in: “You are both dismissed. I want the two of you gone within the next minute, else I’ll consider you disrupting official watch duty. Am I clear?”

Emecar was left in shock. He looked back at Officers Tabard and Lafayette, both of whom looked disheartened. Not only that, but the other officers nearby looked like they were eager to watch a fight break out; no matter the outcome, they’d win: either a couple of lowly sellswords would taste steel, or their blighted sergeant would.

“We’ve a license,” Rukifelth said quickly. “We were tasked with assisting officers in your command on night duty by Lieutenant Vechelot, so unless you plan on going against her orders, you—”

“Your license specifically states that you are to be placed as temporary officers of the watch under my command,” said Astier smugly. “As such, after displaying what I would call negligence and unsuitable behavior, I say you are dismissed!”

Rukifelth’s eyes lit up furiously. He stomped forward, snarling in the sergeant’s face, but Emecar held him back before he did anything they’d both regret. The sergeant seemed unphased.

“If you’re worried about your pay, don’t be,” said Astier. “Even discharged officers receive their nightly pay.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out two grimy silver pennies. He twiddled them in his fingers for a few seconds–an impish smirk on his face–before offering them to Rukifelth.

“And for my brother? Did you forget him,” he said.

“Not at all,” said Astier. His voice rang with a cruel cockiness. “I can see him clear as day.”

“Then what about his pay?” Rukifelth pointed at the two pennies in the sergeant’s hand. “Our license says we’re to get paid twenty penters each; I see my twenty right there, but what about his?”

“You inférals are pathetic; can’t even read the situation, can you? No, you only think about your coin,” said the sergeant. Emecar felt Rukifelth strain against his grip as he tried to lash out. “The license states you to be paid the official wage of an officer for a night’s work: twenty pennies. However, you did not complete a full night’s work, only a couple of hours. Be grateful I’m giving you half.”

Emecar felt his own blood begin to boil along with his brother’s. After everything they’d been through, nearly dying and being dragged off to Helhaym, they were only worth ten pennies to this man? He clenched his teeth hard enough for his jaw to cramp.

Meanwhile, Rukifelth shook himself free of Emecar’s grip. He was certain Rukifelth was going to try and strike the man and wipe that cocky smile clean from his face. Emecar was almost tempted to let him, but before his brother could do anything, he said, “Fair.”

Rukifelth turned, fists still clenched, and Emecar thought he’d be the one on the receiving end of his brother’s strike. “Fair? You can’t be serious?”

He wasn’t, but he didn’t want things to get worse. Emecar swallowed hard and said, “As much as I hate to admit it, the sergeant is right. W-We only worked for a few hours. Half pay is fair.” He stepped up to Rukifelth and whispered in his ear: “I won’t let you cause any more trouble, y’hear?”

“Good, I see one of you has common sense,” said Astier. Emecar approached the sergeant, bowed his head, and extended his hand to accept the payment. Astier dropped them on the ground and said, “Get out of here.”

Faint laughter arose from the other officers nearby. It rang in Emecar’s ears like the clambering of pots and pans, and in that moment, Emecar imagined just how satisfying it would be to knock that arrogant man into the dirt.

But what would that solve?

Emecar’s hands trembled as he picked up the two silver coins and tucked them into his pocket. He turned back to Officers Tabard and Lafayette, who’d been staring in disbelief, and said, “You two did good work tonight. It was a pleasure working with the both of you.”

As Emecar and Rukifelth left, they walked past the small crowd of officers who’d been glaring at them: some with scorn for their behavior, some with delight at their humiliation, and others nervous about their mentioning of fae. Regardless, Emecar tried to ignore them all.

“I hope you see now,” whispered Rukifelth, “why I say what I do about these wretched, bug-eyed blighters.” Emecar glared at him, but he couldn’t help but agree. “After all of that–risking our lives to save his men–we get tossed aside like we’re nothing, and what do we get? Twenty penters! Our words went in one ear and out the other; should the worst happen, and he loses some men, he isn’t going to think about what we told him, not one bit! He’s just going to make excuse after excuse about how he never saw this coming! I tell you, Emecar, I…”

Rukifelth continued to rant on and on as they walked the quiet and empty streets. With everything closed for the night, with the newspaper hawkers and shoe-shiners off the streets, the only people still out and about were the drunkards and deadbeats; since they weren’t drunk, Emecar figured there was only one option for them.

“You know,” Emecar said interrupting Rukifelth’s ranting, “I wish I would’ve just let you clobber that bastard.”

Rukifelth smiled. “Would’ve been pretty satisfying, eh? Soaking that sergeant right in his big mouth. Show him what’s what, I tell you!”

“And what’s that?”

“That I can hit him harder than he could hit me!” Rukifelth laughed, and Emecar couldn’t help but join him. His body ached, his head pounded, and his wounds burned, but that meant he was alive.

And then, both Emecar and Rukifelth stopped in their tracks as the most beautiful, otherworldly song lulled in the air. It was haunting how it just creeped into their ears, but at the same time, it was so inviting. Emecar thought it was oddly similar, as if he’d heard it somewhere before, but he figured he would recognize a song as beautiful as this.

They followed the song to a nearby tavern, The Lady’s Rose. Standing across the street, Emecar felt the silver pennies in his pocket and said, “Care for a drink? I’ll pay?”