Chapter Twenty-Three

Eleanor lets out a long sigh as her questions about the thieves turn up with nothing. She has asked everyone she passes by, and all of them seem to want to avoid the subject or just plain know nothing. She finds a bench and plops down on it, her head mildly pulsing with exhaustion. This running around to find a lead is going nowhere, she growls as she crosses her arms at Eden’s plan. Eleanor wracks her head, pondering why she agreed to this silly quest. She pouts and slams her hands onto her satchel out of frustration.

A small bump beneath the leather wipes the anger from her face. Her thoughts become clouded as she reaches inside for the amethyst brooch that was left behind after her parents disappeared. Eleanor gazes at the tiny skull’s diamond eyes, and her chest tightens. Just as right now, there are no leads on finding her missing parents. She droops like a flower without water and exhales once more.

“That’s quite the bauble you have there.”

An articulate voice draws Eleanor back to reality. A tall man stands before her dressed in a sleek, platinum high-collared overcoat. Sharp, lime-colored inlays trace the edges of his sleeves, shoulders, and cuffs. His silver grey hair is slicked back with not a single strand out of place. But he doesn’t look old as there isn’t a single wrinkle on the man’s face. At his hip, a rectangular scabbard houses a long sword, and from the looks of it, the blade is not ordinary. That is an Armament. This calm and composed man is a Legion. His smile may appear gentle, but it is utterly unnerving.

“Let me have a closer look at it,” says the cunning man. He snatches the brooch off of Eleanor and eyes it toward the sky.

“Hey! Give that back!”

“Ah, apologies. The bauble merely caught my eye and reminded me of something.”

The brooch falls from the man’s palm, and Eleanor quickly catches it before it hits the ground. She sighs. “What did it remind you of?”

“Apologies again, young mage. My memory escapes me.” The man squints his eyes closed and drills his finger into his head in a playful manner, like he’s pretending to think. “Oh! I know, it matches the same embroidery as the cult!”

Eleanor’s heart races. Could this man actually know something? A cult? With the way he’s talking, he’s purposely holding back knowledge. “Tell me, what do you know of this brooch?”

“Oh, the goddess, where are our manners?” The man grabs a hold of Eleanor’s hand and shakes it. A cold sensation rushes through and wraps around Eleanor, almost suffocating her, or more like she’s losing air. She wobbles slightly and quickly catches herself from stumbling. “I am Caelus, fourth legate of Regalia! And you are?”

“I’m Eleanor…” She pulls her hand back away from Caelus’s tight grip with a bit of force. Her breathing returns as soon as his grip is off of her. He was using magic on me!

“Are you feeling alright, Miss Eleanor? You seem a bit out of the weather just now,” says Caelus in a playful way of worrying.

“I’m fine.” Eleanor takes a step back from the legate, and he continues on with his fake smile that obviously reeks of poison. “Tell me, what is this cult you were talking about? What does it have to do with my brooch?”

“Ah, yes. The cult. The subject evades me.”

“Quit with the games and spit it out already!”

Caelus chuckles. “Apologies, Miss Eleanor. It was merely fun. But we are in the city of Antallasso, after all. The city of trade. Knowledge such as regarding your bauble does not come by free.”

Blood begins to boil the more Eleanor listens to Caelus. She clenches her fists with the desire to sock one in his face. But with how subtle he is using his magic just now, she will not take him lightly. “What do you want?”

“I suggest a trade. I am aware that you and your friend are searching for a thief.”

“How did you know?”

“Careful what you ask for, Miss Eleanor… or it’ll cost you.”

Eleanor growls.

“Come, this is no place for such a conversation. Our words hold more weight than the peasants here can comprehend.

Eleanor follows Caelus through the crowd of people and towards the docks. A ship as grand as a mansion casts its shadow over the docks; the waves rock it from side to side, making it seem like it's alive. The white Regalia flag flaps against the wind; a black outline of a crown, pierced from the top by a yellow, glowing sword, evokes authority. On the boat, a collection of crewmates wearing the same colors of Regalia rush around, carrying boxes, shouting commands, and fixing canons.

Eleanor narrows her eyes. The crewmates aren’t fixing canons but are preparing them? The boxes that are being passed around open up to be canon balls, fuses, and gunpowder. Her chest grows heavy with dread. Are they about to attack?

“Right this way, Miss Eleanor,” says Caelus. He makes way for her to enter what appears to be the navigation room. A map of Dwelleen is stabbed onto the table with a dagger and small needles pinpointing other kingdoms and cities. Antallasso is one of those. Caelus removes the map and rolls it up but not in any rush to hide it; he simply gives Eleanor the same fake smile and sits in the chair across the table.

“So? What do you want from me?” asks Eleanor.

“If I’m not mistaken, you’re in search of a thief who has stolen something precious from the duke, correct?”

“Yes…” This Caelus seems to know a lot about our quest. Has he been watching us? Eleanor ponders.

“Now tell me, are you and your One Star friend residents in Basintroll?”

Eleanor doesn’t reply right away, wondering what the legate is after and what’s with this odd question? How does answering this benefit him?

“Time is of the essence, Miss Eleanor.” Caelus snaps. “If you’re wasting my time, then I will not provide you with any answers.”

“My friend may be from this kingdom.”

“It is a yes or no question, but your answer will suffice. Now, your little brooch there is the symbol of the Abyssal Cult.”

The Abyssal Cult? Eleanor reaches into her bag for the brooch. “Who are they?”

“They are a group of individuals with a fetish for power, especially the creation of Menaces.”

“They create Menaces?”

“Yes and no.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’m afraid I do not have the full answer to that question, so apologies.”

Eleanor stares down at the brooch and grips it tightly. The Abyssal Cult. At least now she has a name. “Where do I find them?”

“Who knows. They rarely pay visits to anyone. You’ll just have to hope, I’m afraid.”

The smile on Caelus says otherwise. He knows more than he lets on but is withholding this information. It doesn’t look like he’s willing to spill anymore, and Eleanor believes it’s best not to press on it. After all, she’s in their territory now, and this Caelus is sneaky with his magic.

“Now, back to the matter at hand. I, Caelus, fourth legate of Regalia, would like to offer my help in search of the thief.”

“Why? Isn’t Regalia also fighting for independence? This is Basintroll’s land. You can’t operate here.”

“As I said before, Miss Eleanor, time is of the essence. I would like to aid in your quest to find this thief.”

“I refuse to be affiliated with kingdoms.” Eleanor turns to the door.

“Ah, but your friend is in deep trouble.”

Eleanor stops in her tracks. “What?”

“I’m aware that your search has turned up nothing; however, for your friend, he is on his way to the thieves guild with a thief.”

“No, he’s not. He’s-”

“What? Asking the duke for a temporary release of a criminal? Please. For someone as observant as you, do you honestly believe anyone in this nation would agree to anything a One Star demands?”

A sudden sharp pain pierces Eleanor’s chest. Did Eden lie?

“The One Star is traveling with the thief up the mountains as we speak. You should go before it’s too late,” Caelus smiles.

Eleanor bursts through the door, vaulting over the side of the ship, and dashes through crowds toward the mountains behind Antallasso.