The Zombie Knight

Chapter Two Hundred Fifty-Nine: 'The abiding rumble...'

Abbas sat on the edge of the ancient bed, leaning forward with his hands folded in front of him. He rocked himself slightly back and forth as he waited, trying with some difficulty to have patience.

It had been hours already, and Hector had not returned to himself. The boy was just standing there, still as a statue with his hands pressed to the glass of the Forge.

The questions that had previously raced through his mind in an endless loop had finally settled down, giving way to little more than silent concern.

At first, the waiting had been a bother. Then quite obnoxious.

Now it was just worrisome.

He hoped with every fiber of his being that he had not unwittingly led the young Lord of Warrenhold to his doom. If his soul had become trapped or lost within the Forge... Abbas did not know what he would do.

Conventional wisdom would dictate that he should dive back into the Forge himself and try his damnedest to retrieve Hector as quickly as possible, but that was not an option, at the moment.

He'd been shut out. By Rasalased, no less.

He couldn't even sense the flow of ardor within the Forge, anymore. And Rasalased had stopped talking to him, too. Whether that was because the Dry God no longer COULD talk to him or because he simply wished not to, Abbas did not know.

But the last thing that Rasalased had said to him was to "sit and have patience."

And Abbas was doing his best to listen to his revered ancestor.

But holy Oasis, it was growing more difficult by the minute.

He had not expected Rasalased to show up like that and completely throw a wrench into everything. If he'd known this was all going to happen, he never would have suggested that Hector touch the Forge in the first place.

Garovel, for his part, was shockingly calm. He was just hovering there next to Abbas and Worwal, waiting quietly. The expression on his ethereal, reptilian face had remain unchanged this whole time.

'Are you not concerned?' Worwal had asked him.

'Eh, not really,' said Garovel. 'I'm used to these sorts of things happening. This is just Hector being Hector.'

Abbas didn't know if he could really believe that. Reapers often liked to put up a veneer of self-certainty and confidence, in part to help put those around them at ease and in part, perhaps, to stroke their own egos. So maybe the reaper was just acting.

But if he was, then Abbas had to admit... Garovel was damn good at it.

And it made a degree of sense, as well. Abbas had known there was something strange about the young Lord Darksteel. Even if he wasn't as old as he pretended to be, that didn't mean he was weak or harmless.

But if Hector was fine and there was nothing to worry about, then what in the world was taking so long? Surely, Hector would not have been making him wait like this intentionally, so it could only have been Rasalased's doing.

Or the Forge's.

The fact that the Forge had a will of its own was no great revelation, of course. Abbas had known that it was at least half-sentient since the moment he first dove in to inspect its ardor.

But this was... unexpected, to put it mildly. Abbas had no prior experiences to rely upon here. The Earth Cruncher had never done anything even remotely similar to this. Capturing someone's soul and speaking to them directly for hours at a time?

Assuming that was really what was happening.

He couldn't imagine what else Rasalased or the Forge would be doing in there with Hector's soul. It had to be some sort of information exchange, right?

Abbas tried to use the time wisely and meditate or have Worwal read a few of the books that were left, but neither attempt panned out. He couldn't concentrate, and apparently neither could Worwal.

'In retrospect,' the reaper said privately and in Valgan, 'perhaps it was unwise to allow one of the Shards of the Dry God to come into contact with a Fusion Forge.'

When he put it like that, Abbas felt like a bit of an idiot. 'Agh... but it didn't come into contact with it. Not directly.'

'Yes, it had a human being serving as its connecting rod. Is that better or worse?'

Abbas stifled a sigh. Frankly, he'd forgotten that Hector was carrying a Shard around with him at all times. Among the many oddities about the boy, that had perhaps been the first one that Abbas had learned of. That, from a conversation with Asad back in Sair, which seemed somehow like a lifetime ago, now.

He had taken Asad at his word, of course, that this Hector Goffe of Atreya had somehow become bonded with one of the Shards and that it would be foolish and cruel to take the Shard away from him... but still. Perhaps on some level, Abbas had harbored doubts. If there hadn't been so many other pressing matters at the time, he may have even put up more of a fight and insisted that Hector remain in Sair with them while they studied this mysterious bond.

Looking back, he was quite glad that he'd been too preoccupied at the time.

Having actually heard Rasalased's voice himself now, any lingering feelings in that regard were well and truly crushed.

Hector Goffe was indeed a most suitable "Shardkeeper," as Rasalased had laboriously explained.

Abbas rubbed his forehead. To think that he'd had a conversation with the Dry God... and that, furthermore, it had been such an absurd conversation.

Rasalased was not an easy person to talk to, Abbas had learned. And apparently, Hector had been doing this for a while now. What kind of saintly patience must that boy possess?

Even now, reflecting on it all, Abbas wasn't sure if he had learned anything truly novel or useful. Rasalased had showered him with strange compliments and vaguely ominous warnings.

"Be ever mindful," the Dry God had told him. "Our horizon dims in the shadow of many perilous futures. Rest well but not easy."

And that had been one of the more coherent things.

It should have been an absolute honor and privilege to be able to speak directly with Rasalased in such a manner, but honestly? Abbas was kind of hoping that it never happened again.

Maybe he was just tired, though. It had been a long and messy day.

Between that and all the talk about patience being "not merely a virtue but a liberating necessity," about "Young Hector" being a "budding Gartanas," and about "time not being time," Abbas didn't know where his own mind was, right now. Perhaps the smartest thing to do would be to lay down on that ancient bed over there and have Worwal knock him out.

The thought was certainly tempting. Maybe the world would make sense again after he woke up.

Wishful thinking, most likely.

No, he wanted to hear what Hector had to say after he returned from his "journey" through the Forge. That was more important than his fatigue.

Ugh. He had so many questions, but they were all muddled together in his mind. If nothing else, he would have to begin studying--

Hmm?

What was that?

A light in the Forge. Within the glass orb, it was faint but there.

And it was sustaining itself, too. Not like before, when it had only flickered and sputtered.

Abbas stood up slowly, eyes unblinking as he took in the scene before him.

The Forge had reactivated.

-+-+-+-+-

Raul Blackburn sure hoped this was going to work.

It probably would, he kept telling himself. He just had to keep his head. To stay alert. With Invisibility as his disposal, the chance of failure here was virtually zero.

In theory.

The VMP couldn't possibly have any Invisibility-penetrating detection technology on their hands yet, right? This power was still too new. Abolish might have developed their own countermeasures for it already, but from all the intel he'd been gathering over the last several days, the VMP and Abolish were not directly working together in that way.

Phew.

If someone had told him a day ago that he would be single-handedly breaking into a heavily fortified compound belonging to the Vantalay Military Police, he would have told them they were insane.

This had not been part of the plan, to say the very least of things.

But then again, nothing had really gone the way it was supposed to ever since they arrived in this crazy land. Originally, they'd only been sent to gather information on the Sword of Unso and possibly retrieve it. But then the war broke out, and they were suddenly tasked with checking on the little town of Miro. Then his brothers were captured. Then reinforcements arrived to help him rescue them. Then a rather secretive group of strangers appeared and gave them aberration-harvested Invisibility rings.

And even after all the action they'd seen, even after recovering his brothers Adan and Esai, the stalemate over Miro had not changed.

That was why they had decided to adjust their tactics. The Blackburn Triplets had been tasked with gathering intel again while the rest of the group remained behind to hold Miro.

It was a risk, of course. The Lady Evangelina Stroud had not seemed terribly pleased with the idea, and Raul couldn't exactly fault her for it, either, considering two of them had gotten captured before. She had every reason to be worried about a repeat of that scenario.

But it was still the right move, Raul felt, and he was glad his elders had decided to go for it. The Triplets weren't all that useful in holding Miro. That was largely up to Leo and Cousin Melchor. The brothers' talents were better utilized this way.

And he didn't just feel that way because it had let him return to Ridgemark for a few days and enjoy a bit more of that luxury. That had been certainly be a nice bonus, though, after camping under the stars almost every night and participating in pitched battles with a bunch of violent psychopaths.

Sadly, Ridgemark had proved more difficult to indulge in this time.

For one thing, just knowing that his kin were still stuck in Miro was kind of a downer. It was tough to relax even for a moment when he knew that he could've been working, instead. Time was precious, after all.

And for another thing, the city itself seemed to have changed. It had become significantly tenser, Raul thought. At first, he thought that the battle at Miro might somehow be responsible for this shift, but he soon learned otherwise.

It was the RPMP. The Ridgemark Private Military Police. They had begun openly clashing with the VMP near the city limits. And as a result, the RPMP's presence within the city had increased dramatically.

They were worried about spies and saboteurs.

Plus, there were both Vanguardian and Abolish forces in the city, too. They weren't fighting, but that was only because of the RPMP. If that grip loosened, then Ridgemark would almost certainly turn into a battleground, too.

All things considered, it was a nutty situation, Raul knew. Four different armies, all in such close proximity. Five, including the Rainlords. How the RPMP had managed to keep the peace this long, Raul had no idea. It was certainly impressive, though.

And to top it off, the city was still accepting tourists like everything was fine. Every casino Raul visited was packed with people, even more than he remembered.

It was not, however, merely due to his own skill as an intelligence gatherer that he was able to learn so much about the difficult situation in Ridgemark, at the moment. That had been part of it, of course, but he couldn't rightly ignore the more obvious reason.

The RPMP had made contact with him directly.

He didn't actually get complete confirmation that it was them, but it was the only thing that made any sense. Of the other three factions in the city, only Abolish might have been able to identify him at all, and even that was unlikely. He had almost never removed Invisibility during the fighting.

Plus, if Abolish were the ones to identify him, they wouldn't have sent someone to talk. They would've sent someone to either kill or capture him. Probably the latter. Then they could've used him as leverage against his brethren in Miro.

Not that he would have allowed that to happen, of course. He'd sooner destroy his own brain and be sent back to Warrenhold than let this mission become compromised in that way.

He knew that would most likely mean being unable to return to Vantalay, as his elders probably wouldn't green light a second trip here, considering the circumstances. But it would still be worth it, if it came down to that.

All that being said, Raul was still hoping to use this mission to prove himself as reliable to the elders. And to Lord Goffe.

He knew his brothers felt the same, too. After their time as Abolish captives, they'd been in rough shape. The only reason Abolish hadn't killed them, apparently, was because they weren't sure if Adan and Esai were actually servants or not. His brothers had played the vulnerability card--and quite well, apparently.

But that hadn't saved them from multiple daily beatings and worse.

Much worse.

Abolish had ripped their fingernails off, one by one. They'd branded their faces with cattle prods. They'd taken Adan's left ear, and Esai's right. They'd whipped them a half-dozen times and then flayed the skin off their backs. They'd threatened to kill Miroans in front of them. They'd poked out Esai's left eye and started pulling out Adan's teeth with pliers. And apparently, Abolish had been planning to slowly saw off their feet next, followed by their entire legs.

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Raul had never seen his brothers in such terrible states. He'd wanted to send them back to Warrenhold, but they wouldn't hear of it.

"We're still breathing," said Esai. "We can still help."

He was concerned for them, but he'd also never been prouder of his brothers.

Truthfully, Raul wasn't entirely sure if he would've been able to endure such torture without cracking. It was tempting to think that, yeah, of course he would be able to withstand it. He was a servant, after all. The psychological threat of death or irreparable damage was all but non-existent.

But there was more to it than just that, he knew. The effects of that much pain on the body? Along with the sweet temptation to just tell the interrogators what they wanted to hear and let it all be over?

Plus, it wasn't just about endurance, either. It was also about performance. If his brothers had endured it too well, that might have tipped off their captors, too. They had to play the part of true non-servants.

Raul had a feeling that he would never really know whether or not he could handle such a situation until he was face to face with it.

But there was no doubt that his brothers had conducted themselves remarkably well. When their fellow captives from Miro discovered that the two of them were, in truth, a part of the rescuing force, the surprise on many of their haggard faces was unmistakable. They'd been convinced, too.

And they were full of praise for his brothers, as well. For Esai, in particular. He seemed to have bonded with the Miroans quite quickly, Raul noticed. A small family among them had apparently been the target of one of the crueler Abolish bastards, until Esai managed to draw attention away from them and onto himself. He'd even managed to slay the monster when battle first broke out by catching the reaper off guard.

That was the first time Esai had ever killed a reaper.

And Raul knew the strangeness of that feeling. His own first had been at Dunehall, which wasn't all that long ago.

Esai had been noticeable quieter since then. He was probably replaying things in his head over and over again, wondering if it could have gone differently.

Or perhaps just reveling in the accomplishment.

That was how it had been for Raul. A bit of both. Conflicting feelings.

He shouldn't feel good about taking a life. But it was well justified. Abolish had it coming. Absolutely.

Why should he feel bad or guilty about delivering justice? Someone had to.

But that line of thinking was a slippery slope, he knew. He had to keep a clear head about these things. All those stories about servants losing their minds after so many years--he was already starting to see why that might be the case.

Power really was a terrifying thing, wasn't it? And he didn't even have that much yet.

Perhaps that was why Cousin Melchor had always refused to lead House Blackburn. The man already had enough power and didn't want more.

If so, then Raul could admire that decision.

Regardless, none of that was on his mind at the moment. The only thing that concerned him right now was getting through this VMP installation without alerting anyone to his presence.

It made for quite the imposing sight, too, as he approached. Nestled between two cloud-tipped mountains, the compound was blocking the only passage forward for a hundred miles or more. There was no way he could climb those sheer cliffs without undead vigor or his alteration ability over friction--and the latter would involve creating about a hundred landslides and avalanches in order to reshape the terrain.

Which wouldn't be very stealthy of him. And would almost certainly kill any hapless bystanders in the area.

He thought about provoking a landslide nearby just to draw some of the personnel out of the fortress before sneaking through it, but eh, that would probably be more trouble than it was worth, he figured. And sure, this area seemed pretty desolate, but it would still be dangerous.

This was fine. With the aberration ring, he was able to just wait for the front gate to open and walk through. There was semi-regular traffic through here, due to this being the only road through the mountains.

Lo and behold, his patience paid off. Less than an hour of sitting next to the entrance was all it took for the huge metal gates to start creaking open.

A group of soldiers came out first, not yet allowing the line of waiting vehicles to pass through. They were going to check each and every one, Raul figured, but he didn't intend to hang around and watch. He stepped softly through the small opening in the gate and made his way inside.

Wow, the place was bigger than he expected. And there were even more soldiers around that he thought there would be, too. The VMP wasn't hurting for manpower, apparently.

Hmm. It wasn't a straight shot to the other side, apparently. The only reason he'd come here was because he wanted to use the pass through the mountains, but it looked like the layout of this installation was going to make that simple goal a pain in the ass.

Which was a bit strange, he felt. This gravel road was clearly meant to accommodate motor traffic, so why did they make it wind around so many buildings and go off in weird directions?

Ah, perhaps it was for security. The place was currently serving as a military checkpoint, so they probably didn't want people trying to blow through it at top speed. A labyrinthine design definitely made it more defensible.

Unfortunately, that meant Raul ended up wandering around for quite a while just to get his bearings. And with so many soldiers around, it only got more nerve-racking as the time dragged on. Sure, they couldn't see him, but they could still hear him. Or bump into him, if he wasn't careful.

As he tried to find his way through the compound, he overheard a surprising variety of languages. Valgan, Mohssian, Gishi, and even a bit of what sounded to him like Tharish.

Raul was only fluent in Mohssian and Valgan, but he knew a little Gishi, too. Along with Kotaka, Maricot, and Vaelish. If that was really Tharish he was hearing, then did that mean they were hosting foreign guests here? As far as he knew, Tharish wasn't even spoken on Eloa. It was an Ardoran language.

He hadn't come here to spy on the VMP, but he was suddenly growing curious. His current objective was merely to keep making his way north, but his overall purpose here in Vantalay was to gather information, so maybe it wouldn't hurt to listen a little harder for anything interesting. At least until he managed to find the exit, that was.

Most of the conversations were just the soldiers talking to each other, usually to complain. Hmm. Morale didn't seem very high here.

Maybe the war wasn't going well for their side.

The VMP was the primary armed force of the Vantalayan government. The VMP, therefore, was the main aggressor in the invasion of Vantalay's neighbor, Czacoa. Supposedly, Abolish was here to support them, but Raul had yet to see any actual evidence of that. So far, he'd only seen the bastards attempting to exploit the civilians in Miro.

Maybe things were different in northern Vantalay, closer to the war front with Czacoa. In the south, at least, he suspected that the reason Abolish wasn't moving to help the VMP was because of the Vanguard's presence in Ridgemark. If Abolish started giving obvious support, then the RPMP would be more likely to side with the Vanguard against them instead of merely remaining neutral.

It was also clear, however, that the RPMP really didn't want to side the Vanguard, if at all possible. Why else would they have decided to help the Rainlords run Abolish out of Miro? They were probably worried about inviting the Vanguard in and then never being able to get rid of them.

Like what had happened to Sair.

That was Raul's interpretation of events, anyway. But even after all the intel he'd gathered over the course of this mission, he was sure that he was still missing some of the big picture here.

So he couldn't help himself. When he happened upon a tall building marked "Officer's Quarters," he decided to give it a closer look. He had to wait for the door to open, but that was no great issue. The facility was bustling with activity.

The conversations therein were a bit more interesting to him than the ones outside. There was talk of the war in here, of the progress being made. The officers' morale seemed a bit higher than that of the rank and file. Maybe that wasn't abnormal, though. Raul didn't have much experience with this sort of thing.

Arumoro did, however. Perhaps he would ask the reaper's opinion later, once he wasn't trying to concentrate so hard on listening to a half-dozen other conversations.

At length, he overheard one by the stairs that piqued his curiosity.

"--we don't depart soon, their situation will worsen," someone was saying in Mohssian. "Graves could move against them at any time."

"I disagree," said someone else. "If he abandons Ridgemark, it would allow Abolish to join us there and overrun the RPMP. He wouldn't risk losing the entirety of the South to us."

"You underestimate the capitalist swine. Between the Jailer, the Black Artisan, and the Linebreaker, they have more than enough power to hold Ridgemark without the Vanguard's help."

"Don't be absurd," said the other voice. "Their spirits are weak and corrupt, driven only by greed. They would stand no chance before even Whitehand alone, but there would also be Riev, Jorga, Mikas, the Killer, the Tiger, the Seeker, the--"

"Hmph. It is precisely that kind of overconfidence that worries me."

Hmm. That was first time that Raul had actually managed to get some specific names or monikers. Apart from Graves and the Killer, he only recognized a couple of them.

The Seeker might've been referring to the Seeker of Ardora, an infamous "treasure hunter" of Abolish. The name sounded less menacing than it should have, which was probably by design. The guy had a reputation for procuring treasure by any means necessary, including but not limited to kidnapping and homicide.

If that was really who they were talking about, then Raul found that strange. The Triplets had come to Vantalay in search of a treasure of their own, the Sword of Unso, but it was already in Abolish's possession, specifically in the Killer of Krohin, Thaddeus Croll's possession. Did that mean the Seeker wanted it, too? That seemed unlikely.

But not impossible, Raul supposed. Trying to discern an Abolisher's motive for doing anything was perhaps a fool's errand. There could have been any number of unreasonable explanations for their actions.

The other one he'd heard of was the Linebreaker, but he could've sworn that nickname belonged to a Vanguardian who was famously gigantic. The name supposedly came from his ability to charge headlong into a defensive formation like a bull and still make it back alive. If he was working for the RPMP now, then it must have been a fairly recent change. Not more than a few years, probably.

In any event, it was decent intel. Maybe he should stick around here for a bit longer.

He kept eavesdropping for a while and heard similar discussions being held. Different perspectives on who should do what and how they should do it. The way some of these guys talked, they made it sound like if only they were the ones in charge, then the war would've already been won.

But one thing was consistent, at least: their hatred of the RPMP.

These VMP officers were believers in their cause--that was for sure. And the RPMP, being led by a small group of powerful companies in Ridgemark, represented the exact opposite of what these guys were supposedly fighting for.

Raul had already heard about the ideological divide between Vantalayan government and Ridgemark many times, but hearing it from this side was a bit different.

"Burns me up," said one officer among a small crowd eating at a table. "Selfish bastards. And for what? To fill their coffers? Our brothers fight and die, sacrifice their lives for the future of our country, and those traitors in Ridgemark have the gall to claim that they're the ones fighting for the people?!"

"Aye," said the one next to him. "They only care about money. Hallick's got it right. They're inhuman. No compassion in them. No sense of right or wrong. At this point, I wonder if they even have red blood in their veins."

Graham Hallick was the Vantalayan Prime Minister. He was the one who'd been spearheading the effort to centralize almost everything in the country over the last few years. The banks, agriculture, entertainment--one industry at a time, every company in the country had been forced to employ a "team of government liaisons" who would ensure that "the needs of the nation came before the needs of the company."

And apparently, economic growth had been explosive. Until Ridgemark broke away, that was.

If he were to take a cold, detached stance as neutral third party, then Raul could empathize equally with both sides' perspectives. For the RPMP, they were just defending themselves against an oppressive government. And for the VMP, they were just trying to enforce the law.

Ideologically, though, it was a bit murkier for him. He didn't really have strong opinions either way regarding economic systems, nor did he harbor much love in his heart for large, money-grubbing corporations.

But at least they weren't working with Abolish or invading their neighboring nations. And unlike the rest of the country, Ridgemark was actually protecting its citizens from violent exploitation. On those points, actions spoke quite a bit louder than words, Raul felt.

These VMP officers seemed to think they were fighting for the sake of the people, but having seen what happened to Miro--and several other villages on the way here--Raul had to disagree.

Unlike Miro, most of them had already been abandoned. That might've implied that the VMP had successfully helped them evacuate, but Raul had seen the decimated homes, the overturned vehicles, the rotting corpses in the streets.

And the mass graves.

If he was feeling generous, then maybe he could argue that the VMP wasn't directly responsible for all that stuff, that Abolish was acting without their knowledge. But that didn't mean the VMP was free of blame, either.

And frankly, he wasn't feeling generous.

In fact, the more he listened to these officers talk, the more irritated he became. Did they really not know what was happening out there? Or were they just so wrapped up in their ideological war that they'd become blind to the atrocities being committed against their own countrymen?

If these had been Sairi soldiers, he would've been ashamed to even associate with them.

He had to maintain his composure, though. Getting riled up here was pointless. Finding useful intel was the only thing that mattered. If this place couldn't help in that regard, then he should just keep heading north.

It had been a long trip so far, walking cross-country on foot like this. His friction power let him move much more quickly over sufficiently level terrain, but Vantalay was so huge that it would still be a couple more days before he reached his destination, barring any unforeseen complications.

His actual objective for this journey was not merely to gain intel, however. It was to reach the town of Kristol, where the infamous Bridgewater Prison was located. According to his contact at the RPMP, that was where the man named "John Wright" was being held.

That whole situation had been a mess of its own to unravel. When the request came down from Lord Goffe himself to look for this Wright character, the Rainlords hadn't really known what to do about it. Apparently, Lord Goffe said that it wasn't a priority, but hey, it was an opportunity to go for bonus points. And the Blackburn Triplets loved bonus points.

So Raul decided to risk asking the RPMP about him. The guy's name wasn't actually John Wright, after all. It was Donald Elias. So using it wouldn't expose his Atreyan ties.

It might give the RPMP the impression that they were working with Intar, however, because apparently, John Wright was captured with a group of Intarian spies some fifteen years ago.

So yeah. A mess.

He'd gotten permission from his elders in Miro, though, so that was a plus. Unlike the last time, when the Triplets had sorta-kinda gone off without telling anyone, resulting in two of them getting captured, he had actual approval for his recklessness, now.

Which was pretty surprising, honestly. When he'd asked if he could go, he'd thought for sure that they would say no. But for whatever reason, they hadn't.

True, he'd technically only said that he wanted to go there in order to gather more information about this Atreyan spy, not to break him out single-handedly.

But that had been mostly bullshit, and they probably knew it. If it genuinely looked too difficult to bust him out, then yeah, Raul wouldn't risk it.

He had a feeling that it would look quite doable, though. Especially with Invisibility on his side.

All things considered, these rings were pretty ridiculous, but they did have their limitations. They couldn't cover nearly as much area as the living aberrations at Dunehall could. Those bastards had been able to cloak dozens of people each, whereas these rings could scarcely go beyond his own body. If he wasn't touching it, then he probably couldn't make it invisible, and if the object in question was large enough, touching it didn't matter.

That was one of the reasons he was making this trip on foot. Cloaking an entire car was too difficult, and even if it wasn't, the noise it made would still be too much of a problem when trying to make it through checkpoints like this one.

His primary concern, therefore, was not if he would be able to break the spy out of prison. Rather, it was how he would be able to get the guy all the way back to Ridgemark. Even for him, an undead servant, making this trip on foot was pretty rough. He wasn't sure how well a non-servant would be able to manage it, even with his help.

He could worry about that later, though.

He made his way up the nearby staircase, careful not to walk on the center of any of the wooden steps. The edges were less likely to make noise, he'd always thought, and he didn't want anyone hearing his footsteps. It helped that there were so many other people roaming around below, but he was still mindful of foot traffic on the higher floors.

It was quieter up here, which was both a good and bad thing. He didn't have to worry about bumping into anyone accidentally, but they would also hear him coming if he made any sounds at all.

Slow and steady, he thought.

He was looking for the largest quarters. He didn't know much about how the VMP laid out their buildings, but logic would dictate that the higher-ranking officers would be in the larger rooms.

He'd only planned to eavesdrop from the other side of closed doors, but on the top floor, he discovered a much more inviting prospect. One of the doors was ajar, and he spotted a group of people therein, all standing around a bed-ridden man.

Most of them seemed to be nurses or doctors, tending to him and fiddling with medical machinery. The man himself was only wearing an off-white gown, but there were three sharply dressed officers in front of him, all talking to him with obvious deference.

Two of them left just as Raul was settling in to listen by the door, making him curse his timing. The one remaining officer, however, said something that most certainly caught his interest.

"--my contact within the Vanguard." The green-suited officer spoke Valgan with a deep, almost grinding voice. "You recall the deal I mentioned a while back?"

"Oh, not this again," said the man in bed, also in Valgan. "I told you before: they can't be trusted. Negotiating with them is pointless. As soon as they have our confidence, they will betray us in order to attack Abolish. This much should be obvious."

"Ritter, just listen to me for a minute, will you? My contact is reliable. She wouldn't bring me this if it wasn't worth our time."

The man sighed but didn't argue further.

"They're saying they can get Graves to pull his forces out of Ridgemark in exchange for a simple prisoner transfer."

Raul blinked. Whoa. That was massively valuable intel, if true. It didn't sound like this Ritter fellow was going to go for it, though.

"Absurd. They expect us to believe that they would leave Vantalay entirely for the return of a few of their prisoners? Do we even have any of their men?"

"Ah, no, it would not be that kind of exchange, actually."

"Hmm? What kind would it be, then?"

"They don't want prisoners of ours. They want to hand some of theirs over to us for safekeeping."

"What? Why?"

"They're having operational difficulties, at the moment. Their forces are spread thin all over the continent. They're trying to free up manpower, no doubt. This would eliminate two birds with one stone. They could pull their troops out of Vantalay and also use retask those prison guards as soldiers."

"Hrm."

"It's a great deal for us, Ritter. We should take it before they change their mind."

"So eager. You truly have no reservations about it? It's highly irregular. Why would they trust us to look after their prisoners? Why not one of their allies?"

"Because they're afraid their allies might release them. And perhaps make it look like an accident, afterwards."

"Why would they do that? Who are these prisoners?"

"The Rainlords of Sair."

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