章節 8: Hall of the Sword
He set out into the damp streets, the rain from the night before leaving a chill that seemed to seep into his very bones. The cobblestone was slick underfoot.
„How I would love to take a carriage now, but I have to be a bit more economical. I should ask the guilds in the area for contracts later."
After walking for over an hour, he reached the university district. The scholar's house was a stark contrast to the grimy slums, nestled in a quiet corner of the city.
He knocked on the door. The scholar, an elderly man with a wild mane of gray hair and a pair of spectacles perched precariously on the end of his nose, recognized him immediately. "You," he whispered, his hand shaking as he opened the door a crack. "What do you want?"
"I need another vision," Aldwyn said firmly, pushing the door open wider. The scholar's eyes widened in terror as he saw the look in the his eyes.
"I want absolutely nothing to do with your affairs!" The old man said in a trembling voice.
Aldwyn stepped into the house, his eyes piercing through the scholar's fear. "I know what happened last time, but I need to know more. My quest hasn't ended, and your visions are the only way."
The scholar, visibly trembling, reluctantly led him to the back room where the ritual would take place. The candles were already lit, the air thick with incense.
"You must understand, the visions are not a game," the old man warned, his voice quavering. "They show you what could be, not what will be."
Aldwyn nodded, his eyes never leaving the scholar's. "I'm aware of the risks. But I need answers."
He once again pulled out his book, which was old and dilapidated. The pages were brittle and threatened to crumble at the slightest touch. He placed a series of strange artifacts on the table again: a crystal, a feather, a small bottle of ink that shimmered in an unreal light.
"You have to give me something personal from you again. Preferably the revolver again!" Said the old man with his tense posture.
Aldwyn pulled his revolver out of its holster and handed it to the old man, who then placed it in the middle of the table.
He then drew a complex pattern around it with the shimmering ink, speaking ancient incantations that seemed to resonate through the very air.
As the scholar chanted, the room grew colder, the shadows thickening and stretching like living things. The candle flames danced erratically, casting eerie flickers across the scholar's furrowed brow. The air grew heavy with anticipation, and Aldwyn could feel the weight of unseen eyes upon him.
The scholar reached out and placed his hand on the revolver, the ancient ink glowing briefly before it absorbed into the metal, leaving behind a faint, pulsing light. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, his hand trembling as he recited the final incantation.
Suddenly the room was plunged into darkness, and a cold wind howled through the cracks in the walls. Aldwyn felt a small pain in his forehead, this time it wasn't as bad as the one he had felt before. When the light returned, he was momentarily blinded by a series of quick images that flashed before his eyes.
The first vision was of the woman with the red eyes, the one he had seen in his previous visions, standing atop a high tower, the Duskbringer in hand. She was dressed in flowing robes that billowed around her, and the air was filled with the screams of battle.
The second vision was more disturbing than the first, it showed him standing over a city in ruins, the sky a twisted mess of dark clouds and lightning, holding the Duskbringer high, as if he were the harbinger of doom itself.
The third vision was even more puzzling, it was of himself, standing in a room surrounded by mirrors, each one reflecting a different version of him, some holding weapons of unspeakable power, others with different faces, and others with the same cold, emotionless gaze he knew so well.
The scholar, visibly drained, pulled his hand away from the revolver. "The visions... they're different this time," he whispered.
"What is the meaning of this? Why wasn't there a vision of the Lycan cult?" He asked with a confused look on his face.
The scholar took a moment to compose himself, his eyes still wide with fear. "The visions do not always reveal what we wish to see," he replied, his voice still shaking. "But what they do show is significant. This woman is a powerful figure, one that seems intertwined with your fate."
Aldwyn took the revolver back, feeling its comforting weight in his hand. He pondered the scholar's words as he left the house, the door clicking shut behind him. The visions had indeed changed, and they were as cryptic as ever.
„Dammit... now I have even more questions than before. Could it be that the Lycan cult is no longer a risk and therefore there was no vision of them? No, that can't be...last time, it was made very clear that they have strong allies."
He took a deep breath and stepped into a carriage. He told the coachman the location, which was the warriors' district. This time the cost was 8 bronze coins, because the university district was relatively close to the warriors' district. As he had paid, the carriage rattled through the narrow streets, the hooves of the horses echoing off the old stones. The warriors' district was known for its hustle and bustle, and the air was thick with the smell of sweat, steel and ambition.
The carriage pulled up outside a grand, foreboding building, its facade adorned with the crest of a griffin, the symbol of valor and honor. This was the Hall of the Sword, one of the most prestigious guilds in Helgarde.
Aldwyn stepped out, his eyes scanning the surroundings, his senses heightened by the power of the Assassin's Path. The clang of steel against steel and the gruff voices of training warriors resonated through the air, a stark contrast to the silence of the scholar's chamber.
He strode into the Hall of the Sword, his footsteps echoing in the vast entrance hall. The guild members looked up from their training, their eyes assessing the newcomer.
"I am looking for the guild leader," Aldwyn announced to the nearest warrior, his voice carrying an unmistakable authority.
The warrior looked him up and down. Recognition flickered in his eyes, and he nodded curtly before pointing towards a set of grand stairs that led to an upper level.
"Master Sewell awaits you in his chambers," he said gruffly.
Aldwyn ascended the stairs, his boots clicking against the cold stone floor. The air grew thicker with the scent of sweat and metal as he approached the top. He found the guild leader's door, heavy and oak with iron studs, and knocked firmly.
"Enter," a gruff voice called out from within.
Master Sewell's chambers were a stark contrast to the austere training halls below. The walls were lined with tapestries depicting scenes of battle and victory, and the floor was covered with a plush crimson carpet.
Master Sewell himself was a man who looked as if he had been chiseled from a block of granite. His face was a roadmap of scars, each one a testament to his many battles and the countless lives he had taken. His eyes were cold and piercing, a shade of blue that could cut through the thickest fog of war. His hair was cropped short, more silver than black, and his beard was trimmed to a sharp point, giving him the look of a man who had seen the worst of humanity.
As Aldwyn entered, he looked up, his gaze sharp and appraising. "What's your business, lad?"
Aldwyn approached the massive desk, his eyes never leaving the guild leader's face. "I'm looking for work, or rather for contracts. This is a guild, after all."
Master Sewell leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers together. "Contracts, you say? And what might your particular set of skills be?"
„I must be careful, I can't just reveal my path to anyone." Aldwyn thought for a moment before he answered. "Let's just say that I specialize in silent operations."
Master Sewell's eyes narrowed, a glint of curiosity sparking within them. "Ah, so you're one of those," he said, his voice low and measured. "We've had our fair share of shadows in these halls."
Master Sewell leaned forward, his expression unreadable. "Very well, if you wish to join our ranks, you must first prove your worth and pay your dues." He slid a heavy parchment and a quill across the desk towards Aldwyn. "Our contract is simple, but it is binding. You must fill this out in full, and the membership fee for our guild is a gold coin."
„I didn't want to become a member right away...but as long as I can earn money, I'll take it, besides it helps me to improve my skills."
Aldwyn took the quill, dipping it into the inkwell. The contract was written in an archaic script, the parchment yellowed with age. It detailed the guild's expectations of its members: loyalty, silence, and the execution of duties without question. He scanned the lines, noticing a few clauses that spoke of severe penalties for breaking the guild's trust. The final line required the signature of the applicant.
Aldwyn looked up to Master Sewell and asked, "How long does the contract last? And is there any way to terminate it early?"
Master Sewell leaned back in his chair, stroking his pointed beard thoughtfully. "The contract is for life, unless you wish to be expelled," he said, his tone hinting at the unspoken consequences of such an action. "But fear not, should you decide this path is not for you, there are ways to leave with honor."
„That doesn't sound very good..." Aldwyn made an ironic remark in his head.
„The problem I have is, that this world follows a certain rule. Rituals and Pacts are irreversible, they are sacred."
Aldwyn looked at him again and asked another question. "Can you tell me the exact ways, just to be sure?"
Master Sewell's expression grew serious. "The only way to leave the guild with honor is to complete a task of significant value to us. One that proves your loyalty beyond any doubt. After that, you may request to be released from your oath."
„At least that's possible..." Aldwyn decided to sign the contract. After he had done that, they both dipped their thumbs in the ink and placed it on the contract. With that, the contract was sealed.
Aldwyn took out 10 silver coins, which have the same value as 1 gold coin, and handed them to Master Sewell.
Master Sewell took the coins and nodded in satisfaction. "Welcome to the Hall of the Sword," he said, his voice echoing in the high-ceilinged chamber. "You're now a member of the most elite guild of warriors in Helgarde. But remember, your allegiance is to us now."
With that, he reached into a drawer and pulled out a small velvet pouch. He untied the drawstring and produced a badge, made of silver and shaped like a griffin with its wings spread wide, the very emblem of the guild. The creature's eyes were two small rubies that gleamed in the candlelight.
"Wear this," he said, handing it to Aldwyn. "It will serve as your mark of belonging. It will grant you access to our resources, our network, and it will also serve as a warning to others that you are not to be trifled with."
„That's useful, it means I don't have to hide from the guards any more."
Aldwyn took the badge. He fastened it to his cloak, the rubies glinting malevolently. "Can I look at the contracts now?"
Master Sewell nodded, opening a heavy ledger on his desk. "We have several open contracts that require discretion and skill.
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