Capítulo 18: Consultation
Aldwyn boots thudding against the wet ground as he made for the main street. The sound of Caius's pursuit grew fainter, but Aldwyn knew it was only a matter of time before he caught up. He needed to buy himself enough time to come up with a plan, to even the odds. His eyes scanned the area, searching for anything that could be used to his advantage.
The rain had flooded the streets, turning the cobblestone into a slippery gauntlet. He spotted a horse-drawn carriage, the terrified animals snorting and rearing as they sensed the approaching battle. Without a second thought, Aldwyn sprinted towards it, leaping onto the back as it passed. The coachman's shout was lost in the cacophony of the downpour.
Caius emerged from the alley, his eyes scanning the chaotic scene. He spotted Aldwyn clinging to the carriage as it clattered away, his form silhouetted against the flickering streetlights. With a snarl, he gave chase, his shadows stretching out like black tendrils to propel him forward. The race was on.
The carriage swerved through the flooded streets, the panicked horses fighting the reins as Aldwyn balanced precariously. He knew he had to act fast. He took aim with his revolver, firing a shot that shattered a streetlamp above Caius. The glass rained down, glinting in the moonlight, and the sudden burst of shadow from the plummeting metal gave him the opening he needed.
As Caius dodged the falling debris, Aldwyn leaped from the carriage, his blades slicing through the rain. He rolled to his feet, the cobblestones slipping beneath him, and sprinted towards a nearby blacksmith's shop. The glow of the forge pierced the stormy night, casting flickering light across the wet street.
The door to the shop was open, the warmth and the smell of burning coal a stark contrast to the cold, damp alleyways. He dashed inside, his boots clanging on the metal floor. The blacksmith looked up, surprise etched on his sooty face, but before he could react, Aldwyn had grabbed a red-hot poker from the forge. The metal was almost too hot to hold, but he gripped it tightly, feeling the power of the flames in his hand.
Caius followed, his shadowy form gliding through the rain like a specter. He saw Aldwyn's makeshift weapon and laughed, a cold, mirthless sound that sent chills down the spine. "How quaint," he said, his blades flicking out to cut through the air. "But it won't save you."
The blacksmith's shop was a maze of metal, fire, and steam. The forge roared in the corner, casting an eerie glow across the room. Aldwyn swung the red-hot poker in a wide arc, the heat pushing back the shadows that clung to Caius's blades. The air crackled with the scent of burning metal as the two weapons connected, sparks flying in every direction.
Aldwyn felt the heat of the poker in his hand, the metal almost too hot to hold. But he didn't flinch. Instead, he used it to his advantage, swinging it in erratic patterns to keep Caius at bay. The shadows around Caius's blades grew thicker, reaching out like tendrils to ensnare him. Each time they neared, Aldwyn would sidestep, the heat of the poker leaving a trail of scorched air in their wake.
The room was a whirlwind of motion and fire, the rain outside forgotten amidst the roar of the forge and the clang of steel. The blacksmith had retreated to the back of the shop, his eyes wide with fear as he watched the two figures dance around the furnace. The heat from the poker was intense, making the shadows cast by Caius's blades seem almost palpable.
And then, amidst the chaos, a new sound pierced the air: the clank of metal on cobblestone, the jingle of chainmail, the march of booted feet. The rain had brought more than just shadows to the streets of Helgarde. The clatter grew louder, and Aldwyn's eyes flicked to the doorway, his grip tightening on the poker. Caius noticed the distraction, a smirk playing on his lips.
"Looks like you have company," he said, gesturing with a shadow-wreathed blade towards the approaching knights of House Valthorne.
Caius retreated into the shadows, his form becoming indistinguishable from the inky pockets of darkness that clung to the walls and ceiling of the blacksmith's shop. The knights, their armor gleaming with rain, stormed in, swords drawn and eyes scanning the room for any sign of trouble. They saw only Aldwyn, panting and clutching a glowing poker, surrounded by the chaos of a battle unseen.
"Halt!" one of the knights bellowed, pointing his sword at Aldwyn. "Who are you, and what is the meaning of this disturbance?"
Aldwyn's eyes flicked from the shadows where Caius had vanished to the ring of steel before him. The poker in his hand was still aflame, casting a hellish glow on his drenched face. He took a deep breath, the heat of the forge and the adrenaline from the fight making his heart race. "I am Aldwyn," he said, his voice firm and steady. "I belong to the Hall of the Sword guild, I got attacked by an assassin named Caius, the fight shifted all the way here."
The knights looked at each other skeptically. The story was too convenient, too neat. "Drop your weapon," the leader ordered, his sword not wavering. "You'll come with us."
Aldwyn had no choice but to comply. The poker clattered to the ground, the flame extinguished by the rainwater seeping in from outside. He raised his hands slowly, the tension in the room thick enough to cut with a knife. "Understood," he said through gritted teeth. "But I assure you, I'm not your enemy."
The knights approached, weapons at the ready, and secured him in iron manacles that felt like ice against his skin. They dragged him out of the blacksmith's shop and into the storm, the cold water stinging his exposed skin. The horses whinnied in the distance, the carriage gone.
....
Meanwhile, the guards had locked him in a room in the middle of House Valthorne.
The room was small and sparse, with nothing but a single candle flickering on a wooden table to cast light upon the cold stone walls. The manacles around Aldwyn's wrists were tight, digging into his skin with every movement. He could hear the muffled sounds of the city outside, the rain a constant serenade to his solitude. He took a deep breath, his eyes scanning the room for any sign of weakness, any potential escape.
Then the door opens, and a figure steps in, their form obscured by the shadows. The scent of rain and mud filled the room, mixing with the acrid tang of the candle's smoke. The figure closed the door with a thud that echoed through the chamber, and Aldwyn's heart skipped a beat.
The newcomer removed their hood, revealing a face that was both hauntingly beautiful and eerily calm. Long, raven-black hair clung to pale skin, a stark contrast to the dark eyes that bore into him. High cheekbones and a sharp jawline framed full, red lips that held a knowing smile. The figure was tall and lean, dressed in a tattered cloak that once might have been the color of midnight but was now a mottled shade of blue-black. Their clothes were drenched, clinging to a body that was both lithe and powerful, hinting at the strength hidden beneath the layers of fabric.
"My name is Mordecai," the figure said, their voice a smooth purr that seemed to resonate in the very bones of the room. "I will ask you some questions and before you even think about lying just let me make one thing very clear... I can see through any lie."
„That's not good at all... If that's really true, I'd have a big problem."
Aldwyn's gaze remained unwavering, his mind racing. "What do you want from me?"
Mordecai leaned against the wall, her cloak dripping onto the floor. "Just answer my questions, and if nothing results, you'll be out in the blink of an eye."
She didn't give Aldwyn time to answer and continued, "Question one, is it true that the Assassin Caius started the fight and you were defending yourself?"
Aldwyn nodded, "Yes, it is. He came for me in the alley."
Mordecai's smile grew a fraction wider. "What is your connection?"
„Dammit... I have no choice other than to admit that I've become an assassin." Aldwyn recognized his hopeless situation. He also didn't want to take the risk of lying.
"I visited him, because I was trying to find a path as quickly as possible. I chose the Assassin's Path and he was the one who showed me the ritual."
Mordecai's eyes narrowed, studying him with a gaze that seemed to penetrate his very soul. "The Assassin's Path," she murmured.
"Did you have to kill for him?" She added immediately.
„Oh fuck... What should I do now? I have no chance of convincing my act to be good, because there was nothing good about it."
„I have an idea, if I formulate the answer a little differently... With some luck, she won't ask any more questions about it."
Aldwyn felt a pang of guilt, recalling the faces of the men he had ended. "Yes," he admitted, "but the person was a potential danger to Helgarde."
Aldwyn wasn't even lying here, because his victim was spreading heresy and untruths, which could potentially become a danger. He had found a gap, and answered it with a bold truth.
Mordecai tilted her head, intrigued by the conviction in his voice. "Next question. A while ago, House Valthorne was robbed, a dangerous weapon was stolen and several guards died. Did you have anything to do with that?"
Aldwyn thought carefully about his answer. „I have to be careful, indirectly I had something to do with it, because I was also after the Duskbringer, and I was also in House Valthorne at the time."
Aldwyn's eyes narrowed slightly, the weight of his past actions pressing down on him. "I didn't steal this weapon, nor did I kill the guards."
Mordecai's gaze remained on him, her eyes unblinking. After a tense moment, she spoke again, "Good final question, do you have anything to do with the murder of Scholar Everett or do you know anyone who did that?"
He didn't flinch, his expression stoic. "I haven't and I don't," Aldwyn said firmly.
Mordecai stepped closer, the candlelight casting long shadows across the room. "I can see that you're telling the truth," she said, her eyes searching his face.
Aldwyn felt a flicker of hope, but it was quickly extinguished as Mordecai continued, "But that doesn't mean you're not dangerous."
"But since you have nothing to do with the investigations, you can leave. I will escort you out, your personal belongings have been brought to the Hall of the Sword!" She added.
Mordecai's sudden change in demeanor caught Aldwyn off guard. He knew better than to question his luck and immediately nodded in agreement. She stepped aside, allowing him to rise from the chair, the cold metal of the manacles still biting into his wrists. As he stood, she approached him, her movements fluid and graceful despite the heavy boots she wore.
The tension in the room was palpable as she leaned in close, her breath warm against his cheek. "You may be telling the truth now," she whispered, "but know that I'll be watching you, Aldwyn."
„I don't know what it is, but she scares the hell out of me!" Aldwyn felt slightly uncomfortable, but didn't show any signs of it.
Mordecai stepped back, her eyes never leaving his, and nodded to the two knights who had been standing silently by the door. They approached and unlocked his manacles, the metal clanking against the stone floor. The pain in his wrists was immediate, but he ignored it, his mind racing with questions about this mysterious woman.
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