[Other Original] Osterix Chronicles (Corrected)

Since linking docs isn't allowed (sorry about that!) I'll just post my story here. As to not overwhelm the thread, I'll post the chapters a few days apart. I posted the prologue and chapter one, only because the prologue is very short. Once again, it isn't good, but I do appreciate all criticisms. Hope you enjoy! Includes minor language, violence, and sexual content. Nothing to bad.

Book One: The Scholars of Voman

Prologue

Dirge was tired of being summoned by The Osterix. It seemed like every week, he was called by Heldran to discuss his use of the cards. Or perhaps a better phrasing would be lack of use. Out of all the generals in the Voman army, he was the only one who refused to use the cards. This, coupled with his tendency to bend the rules and his outright refusal to follow some of The Osterix's orders put him out of favor with the immortal king. One day, Dirge knew, The Osterix would lose his patience, and execute him, just as he did with those who disobeyed him for the past thousand years. How he had lasted so long, he didn't know. Well, let's get this over with.

Dirge pushed opened the doors with more force than necessary, showing his displeasure at being summoned in the middle of the night. Besides the duo of Sentinels that stood guard, covered in robes to hide their body, only The Osterix occupied the room. The sight of him took the breath away from most people, but not Dirge. He was numb to the powers The Osterix possessed. "What is it you want now?"
Dirge looked up at The Osterix, who sat upon his throne. Like the Sentinels standing beside him, The Osterix was covered head to toe in robes. Only his eyes, glowing a menacing red, were visible. He seemed almost… expectant.

"I will not kneel." Whatever Heldran wants, he could say it while looking me in the eyes.

And The Osterix Heldran did just that. "The Galan family is hosting a ball tomorrow. You will attend."

"Why?"

"Soreli Galan is going to be assassinated."

"Soreli Galan is scum, equal to those slaves that he and his brother tend to kill off faster than you kill the citizens of the city you rule." Probably shouldn't have said that. Heldran could kill him in an instant. But Dirge knew his time was running out anyways, so he cared little. "I think I should rather delight in seeing him die."

"Soreli's life is of no importance to me. Watch him die if you must. But you will go. Something very important is about to happen."

"Very well, I will attend." A lie. Dirge had no intention of attending a worthless ball. Full of nobles, no, full of snakes. Let them play their games and eat each other alive. Voman would be better off without them. Dirge turned to leave.

"Dirge, one more thing."

And now he'll bring up the cards. What'll it be this time? Maybe he'll finally simply tire of my refusal to use those damned things and kill me.

"Spadille will be the one leading the assassination."

Dirge stopped walking. He could feel The Osterix staring at him. He felt it gnawing at the back of his skull. He knew what Dirge's reaction would be. Spadille, so you've finally returned. It's time to end your bloody game. Enough lives have been lost.
Dirge turned to face The Osterix's gaze. "I will attend."

This time, he did not lie.





Chapter One

Asli Galan gazed at the mirror in front of her, astonished by the lie that stared back at her. A coward should not be dressed so finely.

She sat in a simple wooden chair, wearing a dress of the deepest shade of black, which went well with her dark hair. She tried her best to sit still as Amana, the Galan family's hairdresser, combed at the ruffled nest that Asli called hair. She nervously edged herself a bit to the right of her chair, aware of the stares of those standing near her. Those stares always unnerved her, as she knew what lay in store for her if the gazes became… disapproving.

Asli's head jerked, pulled back by the comb getting tangled up in her jungle of hair. "You really must take better care of your hair, my dear. You couldn't possibly hope to find a match for yourself wandering around looking like this, now could you?"
She's probably right. But the truth was, Asli purposefully kept her hair unkempt. Asli enjoyed having her hair done by Amana, because despite all the scolding she got for not looking after herself, she found herself looking forward to spending time with the grouchy woman. She was one of the few people that treated Asli with any kindness. The least she could do in return was take care of her hair.

"And I think that about does it." Amana turned the chair around, careful not to cause a fold in the dress. Amana shook a bit, not because of the cool breeze blowing through the window, but because she too knew what awaited her if her work was deemed imperfect.

Besides Asli and Amana, five other people stood in the dressing room. Her father, general of one of several Vomanian armies, her two uncles, Adnam and Soreli, her older brother Sull, and a cleaning boy, who was on his knees scrubbing away at the wooden floor, aware of what would happen should he stop cleaning. Her father took her in, staring her up and down. "Stand up," her father, General Emondeas, said gruffly. She did so, and as she rose, she noticed the cleaning boy quickly glance at her. Unfortunately for him, her Uncle Soreli, who was head of the Galan family, noticed as well. The boy's eyes were considered unfit for looking at members of the Galan family, and Soreli would not take lightly to a slave glancing at his niece.

However, before Soreli could act, a quiet, incessant droning noise came from outside. Soreli immediately turned to Sull, who stood at the edge of the small room, already dressed in an immaculate, light blue suit. "Go and close that window, boy. Now!"

Sull gazed back at him, blue eyes displaying a small hint of rebellion. For a moment, Asli was worried that Sull would simply ignore his Uncle. After a few seconds, however, Sull turned, and walked slowly towards the window, taking his time. Upon reaching the window, Sull stopped, and observed the city of Voman, allowing the droning to grow a bit louder, causing Soreli to become more and more agitated. He finally shut the window, and the droning abruptly stopped.

"Damned hooligans," Soreli said under his breath, as Sull resumed his position at the edge of the room, observing.

Emondeas slowly walked towards Asli, continuing to decide whether or not she looked well enough to attend the ball that was going on downstairs. After circling Asli several times, he eventually made his decision. "You are dismissed," the rough general said to Amana, whose head was bowed. She was permitted to look at Asli while she was doing her work, as a hairdresser who cannot see her subject would have a troublesome time combing and cutting, but once her work was done, she was to not lay her eyes on anyone of noble blood. She bowed gracefully, and quickly scurried out of the room.
Her father turned to face Asli. He spoke in his usual rough manner. "As you know, today is a very important day for the Galan family."

That's an understatement. Today could make or break our household. Asli felt a tremendous amount of pressure, for the fate of the Galan household may lie on her shoulders. That, along with what she had to do at the ball, worried her to no end. Many considered it an impossible task, and her cousins, Rared and Jarbly, were placing bets on whether or not she would succeed.

Asli had to find a potential husband.

Her father and Uncle Soreli wouldn't admit it, but Asli suspected that was the whole reason they were throwing the ball. They try to pretend otherwise, but the Galan family was in trouble, and needed allies. That there lies the problem, however. Uncle Soreli had just about bankrupted the Galan household with his lavish tastes, and while her father had a somewhat respectable role as a general in the Voman army, his cruel personality and tendency to kill off servants faster than new ones could be brought in drove off the hope of any woman falling for him. And since Sull had proven to be a lost cause, the hopes of finding any potential allies came to her.

"We have spent a large amount of our remaining fortune on preparing for this ball," Emondeas continued. "Several of the most prominent households have already arrived, and I expect the both of you to socialize and make conversation with all who arrive." He glared at Sull as he said this. Despite Asli's timid nature around Emondeas and Soreli, she had little trouble interacting with members of other households. Maybe it was because they had never struck her.
Sull did not possess this skill. He tended to linger on the outskirts of whatever event he was attending, content to sit back and observe. Emondeas had attempted to force him into conversation multiple times, and each time the encounter had ended horribly. Nobody knew if he simply struggled speaking with other people, or if he intentionally sabotaged these meetings. Whatever the reason, Asli still considered Sull to be braver than she. He at least showed resistance in his own, Sull-ish way.

Soreli approached Emondeas, and whispered something in his ear. Her father nodded, and turned to face Asli. "Your Uncle and I must go and greet the guests." He came closer, grabbing Asli's shoulder. "I trust you will make a man fall for you." He began squeezing her shoulder more forcefully, the hand of a warrior leaving new bruises on her body. He leaned closer to Asli. "I don't care how you do it, just do it," he whispered menacingly into her ear. "I expect you won't dissapoint me?"

Asli grimaced in pain, suppressing tears. Showing too much pain would just agitate him further. Asli nodded, avoiding her father's hateful stare.
He nodded, and released her shoulder. She gasped in pain, observing the wound. Her skin was a dark purple where he grasped her, although fortunately the black dress hid most of the color. The dress was now creased in around her shoulder, she desperately tried to even to folds out. As Soreli turned to leave, Emondeas turned and spoke to Sull quietly in a dangerous tone. Sull simply stared back at him with his pale, blue eyes. Face soft, devoid of emotion.
Sull's lack of fear towards his father did not bode well with Emondeas. As he left, he seized the cleaning boys arm, his relentless grasp drawing blood from the boy's thin, bony arm. The boy yelped in pain, struggling fruitlessly against the towering general as he was dragged out of the room. Asli didn't know if he attacked the boy because of his staring at his daughter, or simply to punish Sull for his silent rebellion.

I should stop him. I should say something, anything to make him stop. Asli felt sorrow for the boy, but the terror she felt overwhelmed her feeling of pity. Flashbacks of Emondeas beating her in a drunken stupor, choking her, telling her that she was a waste of a daughter, that he couldn't wait to marry her off to some other abusive lord.

Asli wanted to say something. But it was not Asli who saved the boy's life. It was another man, a man who had been standing in the room the entire time, ignored, forgotten, by his cruel, monstrous brothers.

"I will take care of this one, brother." Her uncle Adnam stood behind her father, who still held the boy. Adnam spoke carefully, worried about pushing his brother over the edge. "You and Soreli need to hurry and greet our guests, you are already behind as it is."

"This won't take long. A puny little rat like this won't last a minute." Emondeas spoke hatefully, disgust stemmed from his words.

"There is blood on your sleeves, brother," Adnam replied calmly.

Emondeas looked at the sleeves of his suit, now dyed a dark red from the boy's blood. It was not uncommon for lords to beat, or even kill their servants. But the host of a ball seen with the blood of a child on his sleeves would not leave a good impression for would-be allies. "Go and clean yourself up, and then instead of killing any more of our people, why don't you go and try to save our house."

Emondeas composed himself, and glared at everyone in the room, eyes dark with hatred. Soreli waited by the door, chuckling to himself. As the two of them left the room, Adnam turned to the boy. "Go and see Doctor Ophre. Do you know what he looks like? He is an older man, with a bent nose and greying hair. He is a bit odd, but he'll patch you right up." Adnam wiped a tear off the poor boy's face, as he left the room, clutching his bleeding arm.

"By His Majesty's Cards, but the lad can't be more than ten years old," Adnam spoke to himself quietly. "Are you alright, my dear?"

A single tear slid down Asli's face. She felt comfortable showing her pain now that Soreli and her father had left. Both Adnam and Sull had comforted her before, these two had always been there for her after Emondeas or Soreli beat her. "I don't know if I can do this." She sighed, and rested her head on her uncle's shoulder.

"Of course you can my dear. Turn around and look at yourself. Tell me what you see."

As he said this, Sull slowly walked over towards where the cleaning boy's blood lay in a dark, scarlet pool. He picked up the rag that the boy had been cleaning with, knelt down, and began wiping up the mess that had been made.

Asli smiled as she rotated and faced the mirror, and regarded herself. Despite that fact that she was nearing twenty years old, she barely stood over five feet tall. Odd, considering that Sull, her father, and both her uncles stood at almost six feet tall or taller. Her face was red, both from pain and her tears. Her dress, now a bit neater than it had been before, was fortunately not wet from her tears. It was the first time she had worn a dress in some time, Emondeas normally forbid her from wearing fine clothes, but he made an exception on this day. Her dark hair reached down well past her shoulders, one of which still had a purple and black tint to it. Despite her wounds, Asli found herself smiling.

Adnam beamed. "See? You look beautiful. I don't believe that any man could resist you. I think that your biggest problem will be trying to ditch some of the ones that you deem unworthy of your attention!"

"It doesn't work like that."

Both Asli and Adnam turned, and Sull stared at them both, bloody rag still in hand. Somehow, he managed to not get a single drop of blood on his suit. By Heldran's Robes, his eyes almost seem TOO blue, Asli thought to herself.

"Excuse me?"

"You don't honestly think that appearance alone will gain her anything? These are noblemen we're dealing with, it simply doesn't work like that." Sull spoke in a soft, soothing tone, a stark contrast to his blunt words. "It will take much more than a pretty face to win us allies in these troubling times. You need to be clever, Asli. Don't let father's words loom over your head. Don't let these noblemen that hide behind false masks intimidate you. Believe it or not, there are nobles who are considered to be kind and good. Search for them. Allying ourselves with those who would use and betray us would only drive the dagger in our chests deeper. Don't act like some frilly, naive girl. Be the cunning yet lively girl that I was raised with." Sull's expression grew sad. "I hate seeing you like this, Asli. I just want you to be yourself again, to hear you laugh again. Please, don't let these scoundrels corrupt you with their games."

Adnam stared at Sull, shocked at the boy's outburst. Asli's smile faded, replaced by annoyance. He's right, as usual. But what am I to say? I don't even know if I could convince a child, let alone a powerful family, that a broken house such as mine deserves to be allied with.

Sull gave her an encouraging smile. "You'll think of something, sister. You always do."

He always seems to know exactly what I'm thinking, and exactly how to respond. Throughout their childhood, Sull had learned to read her expressions, and guess exactly what was she was thinking. How is it that he can't interact with strangers the way he does with me? Despite his efforts to motivate Asli, she found his words to simply turn into dust. She had an arduous task ahead of her, and neither her brother nor her uncle could seem to reassure her.
Adnam checked his pocket watch, and gasped slightly. "Ahem, I'm afraid I must leave you. Lady Joville asked me to accompany her to the ballroom, and I fear she may have already arrived." He gave a slight sigh of exasperation. "Heldran help me if I am late again. The last time I was tardy, she made me..." He looked at the both of them. "How old are the two of you again?"

"I'm almost twenty, and Sull is twenty three."

Adnam turned red, and looked somewhat bashful. "Another time, perhaps. But now I really must be going." He gently touched Asli's shoulder, the uninjured one. He had a soft touch, a caring touch, a sharp distinction from the cold, ruthless clutch of her father. He nodded to her, smiling. He turned and gave a similar nod to Sull, and then he hurried off, not wanting to displease Lady Joville.

That left brother and sister alone in the room. Asli studied Sull, who was observing the spot where the serving boy's blood had been not a moment before. The pool was gone now, dark red stains faded, revealing the polished wood that lay beneath, previously hidden under a young boys torment. "Can I expect to see you wandering around the processions?"

Sull gave a small scoff at that. His piercing blue eyes met hers. "You know me better than that, sister." An air of mischief seemed to surround him. "I'm afraid that I have other matters that need attending to."

Cards, I have no idea what that's supposed to mean. Sull bid her good luck, and left the room, off to do whatever it is that Sull does.
Well, I suppose it's time to go save our house. Heldran preserve me. She slowly walked out of the dressing room, wishing that she possessed Sull's uncanny ability to be calm no matter the circumstances. As she left, she noticed some scuffling at the end of the hallway. Completely content to postpone her appearance at the ball, she went to investigate. She was surprised and worried about what she discovered.

"Rared, Jarbly, who let you in here?"

Her cousins turned quickly, apparently forgetting whatever had sparked their friendly scuffle. Jarbly, for whatever reason, had a broom in his hands, wooden end pointed towards Rared's face. Rared and Jarbly, twenty and fifteen respectively, sons of her Uncle Adnam, had always been troublemakers. The two often got into mock fights, and due to their unruly mannerisms, Soreli and Emondeas banned them from attending formal events. This ball was the last place they should be.

"We wanted to help out at the ball, but Emondeas wouldn't let us. He said that we were too barbaric. It hurts, when people say stuff like that to us." Rared somehow said this with a straight face, unaware of the fact that a broken candelabra lay at his feet. "But Soreli said we needed all the help we could get, and so he ordered us to make sure no uninvited guests strayed into this hallway."

Asli turned and looked towards the other side of the hallway. They stood at one end, and the hallway ended perhaps fifteen paces away. It was possibly the most unimportant hallway in all of Voman. Soreli probably hoped that by making her cousins "guard" this hallway, they wouldn't stray closer to the formalities at the other side of Galan Manor.

Jarbly let out a guttural roar, and jabbed Rared in the jaw with the broom. Rared, older and stronger than Jarbly, turned quickly, but Jarb had already locked himself in a storage room. Rared pounded on the door, contradicting his claim that he was fit for society. "Jarbly open the door! I need to beat you up!"

"Leave me alone! I want a truce!"

"You can't hit me once and then call for a truce! Get out here and let me hit you!"

"No! You're gonna give me a seizure!"

Asli was puzzled. Does he mean a concussion? Can you get a seizure by being struck in the head? I guess you probably could.

"Don't worry Jarb, I know mouth-to-mouth."

"Rared! You don't give mouth-to-mouth when someone is having a seizure!" Asli was no expert in the medical field, but she was fairly certain that giving mouth-to-mouth on a person having a seizure was exactly the wrong thing to do.

"You Don't? Huh. That actually makes a lot of sense. I've tried giving mouth-to-mouth on people having seizures a few times before, but they just keep thrashing around. It's almost like they don't want to be saved."

Asli was speechless. She could never really tell if Rared was being serious or not. He once claimed to have seen a ghost standing in a dark hallway while sneaking into Galan Manor with Jarbly, only for the figure to become part of the shadows, disappearing instantly. Jarb had no recollection of seeing a ghostly figure, but Rared was adamant in the fact that he had seen something. Many dismissed his tale as a wild fantasy, but the way he told the story, he seemed to think it was real.

"Well, I need to be going. I have a husband to find." Jarb had faith in Asli, his youthful optimism shining bright. Rared wasn't so sure. The two had a bet going on; if Asli found a possible match, Rared would have to attempt to pursue Inia Joville, the daughter of Lady Joville. If Asli didn't find a match, Jarb would pursue her. Asli told her cousins to behave, and slowly trudged towards the ball, feet dragging across the floor, heels practically creating chasms in the wooden floorboards.

Asli entered the main hallway of the second floor of Galan Manor. Below her, nobles congregated, forming alliances, scheming against their rivals. Asli knew she needed to go down there, if she didn't arrive soon, Emondeas would not be happy. As she walked towards the stairs, she stopped and gazed at the massive mosaic tiles on the wall. Most of their art had been sold when Soreli caused them to go bankrupt, but not these. The mosaic portrayed the events where The Osterix, Heldran, was gifted immortality, as well as the power to wield an infinite number of cards. The tiles showed Osterian, the being who gifted The Osterix with this gift. Nobody knew how, or why, Osterian chose Heldran to wield this power. Nobody asked. The Osterix forbade it.
Asli closed her eyes. I can do this. Just do what Sull said. Just be you.

Asli moved to take a step forwards, down the carpeted stairs, when she was thrown backwards, tripping over the top step. She landed flat on her back, her dress being ruffled for the second time. Groggy, she opened her eyes, and stared up at the one who pushed her over. To her surprise, it was not Emondeas, nor was it Soreli. It was a face she had never seen before.

"Whoops, sorry 'bout that. Didn't see ya there." The offender was young, perhaps in his late teens. He held out his hand, offering to help her up. Asli stood up on her own, ignoring this miscreant's gesture.

"How could you not notice me? I was standing in the middle of absolute nowhere! What, do you have bat-eyes? Are you even supposed to be up here?"

The newcomer chuckled. "For your first question, you aren't to far off. Your second question is irrelevant."

Asli stared at him, incredulous. I'm not sure what to make of that. "I don't have time for this. I have to find a husband." Asli pushed past him, almost tripping over her dress and stumbling down the stairs. She caught herself on the man's black suit. She looked up, and examined him. She was struck by how tall he was. He was at least as large as her father was, although he was more lanky, and not nearly as muscular. After realizing that was staring, she quickly pulled away.

" I can help with that."

Asli turned back and looked at him. "Help me what? Find a husband?" He nodded, and gave her an expectant look. Asli's face grew red. "What, you want to get married?"

"Sure! A bit forward of you, but I think that being blunt can be a positive quality in a relationship. I think the two of us have a bright future in store!"

"What? No, I, ugh…" Asli didn't have time for this! If she didn't make her appearance soon, Emondeas' rage could turn deadly for someone. The troublemaker spoke before Asli could make her leave.

"Anyways, I have to be going. I'm kinda in a hurry, and while I realize that it may be a tad rude to leave my fiance, I have important business to be about."

"Why, you got more people you have to pester?"

"Well, that's one way you could word it, I suppose. See you around, sweety."

Asli watched him go, unsure what to make of what exactly just happened. That wasn't official, was it? If the worst really happens, I suppose I could find him and ask if he was serious. Although he must not be from a major house, I've never seen him before. Asli then realized that she forgot to ask him something very important, yet so simple. Cards! I didn't even catch his name!

Asli began walking back down the stairs. She ignored the finely made carpet, covered in golden stitches. She instead focused on the task ahead. I won't have to marry him. I won't let it come to that. Although, I suppose he was at least kind… Asli stopped walking, eyes wide open with shock as she remembered the moments before she was shoved by the stranger. When I closed my eyes at the top of the stairs, there was nobody else around. I had them shut for only a moment, and when they opened, he was at the top of the stairs, barreling into me. Asli stood almost at the base of the staircase. Standing behind her were at least forty to fifty stairs.

Stairs that the stranger ascended in less than a heartbeat.

Asli gazed up at the stairs, dimly lit by the dying flames of lamps hanging off the walls. For a moment, the shadows formed by these dying lights seemed to dance on the walls. Shivers went down Asli's spine as she remembered Rared's story about the ghost he claimed he saw. But no, he couldn't be a ghost. His arm felt… solid.

Forgetting all thoughts of the supernatural, Asli took one final deep breath, and entered the main ballroom.

Never say that your own story isn't good, that's just putting yourself down. Even if it is crap on paper, it's still something you've made with your own two hands, and should be appreciated especially by yourself. I really enjoyed the prologue, and I think Dirge's a very ballsy character, although in his words he was about to die (or his time's running out, to be more literal). I'd be ballsy too if I knew my time's gone. Also, I don't know why, but this story reminds me of The Lord of the Ring.

Hmm, Asli's being pressured into getting married. More than that, her bastard of a father's making her do it, or at least "marry her off to some abusive lord." He's a prick, but I do like Sull.

Thanks for the advice! I suppose since I'm the author, I always feel like I can make it better. I'm glad you're interested! Here is chapter two.

Chapter Two

Spadille hated having to stay hidden.

Sneaking into the Galan Manor hadn't gone as well as planned. Soreli had hired more guards than anticipated, which made scaling the walls outside the manor problematic. Some of the guards had to go. Spadille and Kearn didn't mind a bit of bloodshed, but Caian and Ro'ko found it distasteful unless it was absolutely necessary. After the four of them finally got inside the manor, they set their plan into action.

Spadille studied his small group. They stood on the outskirts of the ballroom, by a door that led to the upper floors of the mansion. Kearn, a boy in his late teens, wore a dark black suit, standing tall over most of the other men in the ballroom. It would be his job to sneak through the top levels of the mansion and unlock a different door that would lead the group to their weapons stache, left by a servant sympathetic to their cause.

Sneaking into the mansion strapped with swords and battleaxes would have been a tad difficult. They would have attracted looks from real noblemen, Osterian knew those sheep were attracted to just about anything that was different.

Spadille cursed under his breath again. I used Osterian again. I'll need to fix that. I need to remember that he is no longer my god. Not after what happened.

Spadille left all thoughts of religion behind. Now was not the time for that. Right now he needed to focus on getting Kearn upstairs.

Of course, getting through the door would have been no problem for a man with Kearn's talents. The issue was that nobody was allowed upstairs. Two guards stood by the door, both fully armored and with swords at the ready. They couldn't be taken out without other partygoers noticing. A distraction was needed. Spadille had hoped that it wouldn't be necessary, but Osterian seemed to be out to get him. Spadille turned to Ro'ko, disgusted at himself for using Osterian for the second time.

"Alright my friend, looks like we're going to have to cause a bit of a distraction after all." Spadille tried to maintain an air of aloofness about what he had to do, but it still nagged at him. He knew Ro'ko wouldn't be hurt, but the action of striking a friend did not sit well with him.

Ro'ko, dressed in slave attire, nodded. He was not the only one is slave drabs, several other nobles brought along their "servants" to attend to their every whim. He fit right in.

The two of them moved a short distance away from the door. Kearn and Caian stood nearby, Kearn ready to slip through the door when the moment arised, Caian with his notebook out, ready to detail exactly how Kearn got through. He tried to take notes whenever anybody used their cards. Spadille undid the buttons around his wrist.
"Make it look believable. Remember, you can't hurt me." Ro'ko looked at him intently.

This mission probably meant more to him than any other member of Spadille's crew. He nodded at his friend, and set their plan into motion.

"Wretch, my sleeve has come undone. Fix it!"

"Yes master." Ro'ko began fiddling with his sleeves, muscular hands struggling to grip the small buttons. Spadille examined the crowd around him. Nobody had really noticed them, not yet at least. He looked at Ro'ko, who continued to struggle.
Cards, he's actually sweating! He's must be an incredible actor, or he must be more worried about the plan succeeding than he originally let on. What we are doing means a lot to you, my friend. I promise you, Soreli will die. Ro'ko then ripped the sleeve of Spadille's suit, setting the next phase of the distraction into action.

"YOU BLOODY FOOL!" Spadille struck his friend, causing him to slam to the floor. An act, the cards Ro'ko attached to himself made him incredibly resilient to pain. It still sounded painful, however. Spadille kept hitting him, despite his yelps of pain. By now they had attracted a small crowd, and more noblemen came to see what all the ruckus was. He spared a quick glance to the door. The guards still stood there, chuckling at Ro'ko's torture. They'll have to stop this soon. I hope.

Spadille heard cries of "Kick him harder!" and "Rip his throat out!" Spadille kicked him in the gut, and Ro'ko let out a small gasp. A small cheer went throughout the crowd. Monsters, all of them! By the time this is over, I'll kill them all! The Osterix and Osterian too! Spadille started kicking harder and harder, rage at the nobles fueling his blows. Memories went through his mind, a fire, a woman screaming, his daughter bleeding in his arms. Spadille kicked his friend in the jaw, and fake blood, applied by Caian, splattered across the floor. He took them from me! Blood splattered around his feet. It's because of him that they're dead! How much fake blood did Caian put on him? He killed them! Ro'ko looked up at him, eyes showing something, was that... fear? Spadille's senses returned. He kicked one more time, and spit on him to finish the act. Neither of the guards had come to stop him. "If you weren't so strong, I would've killed you long ago. Someone pick up Wretch and clean him up. NOW!" Fortune was on his side, and one of the guards came to carry Ro'ko to the hose. That's one down. He pointed to the other guard. "You! Come and show me where this manor's washroom is. I can't stand all of this slave slime on me!"

The guard walked over, admiration showing in his eyes. Those few steps were all it took. All the eyes were still on him. Spadille knew Kearn had gotten through the door. Barring any distractions, he should have the door to the weapons stache open in a few minutes. He'd then unlock another door, and lead his friends to the weapons. Then they would strike.

"If you leave through that hall, the men's washroom is the first door on the right, sir."

Don't you dare call me sir again. He went to where the guard indicated, and began to wash himself off. His boots, sleeves, one of which had a new rip in it, and several parts of his ruffled suit were covered in fake blood. One other man had just finished washing himself, Spadille gave him a quick glance. Upon seeing who it was, Spadille began to hold his breath.

It was General Emondeas, the brother of Soreli Galan. The general saw what he was doing, and gave a smile of satisfaction. On his way out, he patted Spadille on the back. A gesture of camaraderie. "Damned heathens need to know their place." He turned to face Spadille, and gave him a nod of approval on his way out.

The washroom was now quiet. The quiet made Spadille's emotions take control once more. His friend broken on the floor below him, nobles cheering in delight, guards who opted to watch instead of stop him, the smile of approval from one of the worst men in Voman, Spadille couldn't take it. He let out a yell, and smashed the corner of the sink he had been using. It shattered into pieces, dust settling below him. His hand bled, he didn't have a card that enhanced strength like Ro'ko did. He washed his hand off using a different, intact sink, and went to meet back with Caian. Hopefully by now Ro'ko would be back. Caian had told him to meet up on the other side of the ballroom after the distraction. Hopefully that way less people would recognize them.
He walked to where Caian had said to meet up. He looked at the dancing nobles as he walked. They'll pay. I'll make all of them sorry for all the pain they have caused. As he thought that, the droning noise momentarily returned. Spadille was delighted when several nobles began to show signs of discomfort. The droning faded away, Emondeas or Soreli must have ordered the musicians to play louder.

"Did hitting that slave make you feel good?"

Spadille turned to see who had spoken. Spadille recognized several noblemen. True, he hated them. But if he were to kill them, Spadille at least wanted to know their faces. He wanted to know who he was killing. He knew this man. Lord Adnam Galan, younger brother of Lords Soreli and Emondeas.

Spadille kept the act up. "Wretch ripped my sleeve, most would've given him worse than that." Spadille was curious. He already knew much about Soreli from the stories Ro'ko told of him, and Spadille knew firsthand how cruel Emondeas could be. Adnam however, Spadille knew very little about. Supposedly, he wasn't a monster like his brothers were. In fact, he had heard that Adnam was actually kind. Spadille doubted that.

"A sleeve? You nearly ended the life of someone because of something that could be sewn back together? People like you make me sick. The Osterix may not punish you for this, but Osterian will!" Adnam stormed off, face red with anger.

Well, that was very interesting. He just criticized The Osterix. A bit naive to think that Osterian will punish those who commit evil, but I suppose he hasn't seen Osterian's work firsthand. Maybe there are some nobles who have hope after all. The thought that there might be a nobleman who was willing to criticize The Osterix and defend the Lavian slaves felt… wrong. He's a deviation, nothing more. Just because one of them seems humane does not mean the rest are. Still though, I'll have to remember Adnam in the future. He may be useful.

Caian was suddenly at Spadille's side. "We really must be going. Kearn should've unlocked the door by now, he must have gotten sidetracked."

"Did he get through the door ok? Did anybody see him?"

Caian smiled. "He didn't even open the door." He led Spadille down a nearly empty hallway. "We do have a bit of a problem however. General Dirge has been spotted at the party." Spadille stopped walking. Caian looked at him. "Will he be a problem?"

This news worried Spadille more than killing Soreli did. "What is he doing here?"

Caian let out a sigh. "I wish I knew. I did not think that someone of a stature such as him would attend an event such as this." Even Caian, whom normally had a plan for almost any change in circumstances, was worried. "What should we do?"

They arrived at their destination before Spadille could answer. Ro'ko was already there. "You really pack a punch, my friend." Spadille turned to apologize, until he noticed the scar on the cheek of Ro'ko. It takes a lot of punishment to leave a scar on someone who had a Card of the Sentinel.

Kearn finally opened the door, practically kicking it open. For one so gifted in stealth, he really could make a scene when he wanted to. Upon stepping out of the doorway, he saw how sullen the group looked. "Well now, I don't think I've ever seen such a cheery bunch of killers before. Why are y'all looking so grim?"

Spadille didn't feel like answering. "What took you so long?"

"Sorry, I kind of accidentally married the niece of the fellow we're planning on killing. I'm afraid marital vows prevent me from continuing in this operation."

"Kearn we don't have time for this. Take us to the weapons."

Kearn frowned. Out of all the members in the crew, Kearn was the newest. When he first joined, the group had been lively, not as depressed as they were now. But then Spadille's family was killed, and things changed. Kearn tried his hardest to make the only people who would take him in smile, but it was getting harder and harder for him to do so. Spadille only made him a member out of circumstance. A few years ago, during the second Voman-Lavian war, Kearn had needed a horse. So, he had stolen Spadille's. After Spadille had gotten the horse back, Spadille invited Kearn to join the crew on the spot.

Of course, there was much, much more to the story than that. But Spadille didn't have time to dwell on that story right now.

"Alright sourpuss, this way." Ro'ko turned to follow him, and Spadille noticed again the fresh scar on his cheek.

"Caian?"

The aging scholar looked at him. "Yes?"

"You told me that you would add fake blood to make Ro'ko's wounds look believable. But you didn't say anything about adding a fake scar."

Caian looked troubled. "No Spadille, I didn't."

Caian followed Ro'ko and Kearn through the doorway, up a small flight of stairs, leaving Spadille alone with his thoughts. I've had enough of me feeling sorry for myself. They're gone, and it's time for all of Voman to pay. Spadille followed the trio up the stairs, focused on the mission ahead of him. I'm sorry, Ro'ko. I will make sure that Soreli dies. Tonight. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Spadille found himself chuckling. Heh, sourpuss.

Up ahead, Kearn smiled.