Chapter 38: Another Show Begins

The morning crept into Thalosridge with the earthy scent of damp soil wafting through the cracked windows of The Rusty Tankard, blending with the distant clamor of a city stirring awake. I moved through the shadowed corridors, my white mask catching the faint dawn light, its subtle curve hinting at the plans brewing beneath my calm exterior. My black cloak trailed behind me, a silent ripple of darkness against the worn wooden floor, as I approached Baron Thalos’s room. Without a pause, I pushed open the heavy door, the groan of its hinges a fitting announcement of my presence.

Thalos jolted upright, his half-lidded eyes snapping open, the exhaustion from last night’s chaos etched into his pale face. His brown hair fell in disarray, his deep green robes—stained with soot and blood—clinging to his slumped form like a shroud of defeat. He rubbed his temples, his fingers trembling slightly, as if trying to banish the memories of the carnage I’d orchestrated.

“Rise,” I said, my voice a low, steady hum, carrying an edge that brooked no dissent. “We have matters to unravel. Begin by laying bare every thread of the Count’s illicit dealings—their nature, their haunts.”

Thalos blinked, his dark eyes struggling to focus, his voice thick with lingering sleep. “Everything?” he asked, a note of hesitation creeping in.

“Everything,” I affirmed, leaning against the doorframe, my tone firm yet laced with a quiet intensity that pressed against him like a gathering storm.

He swallowed, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his ruined robes, before relenting. His words spilled out in a halting stream—smuggling rings operating along the eastern docks, a web of bribes entangling Thalosridge’s magistrates, underground trade routes snaking through the northern slums, and a scattering of minor schemes tucked into the city’s darker corners. I listened in silence, my mind a silent archive, cataloging each detail with precision, each revelation a piece of the puzzle I would dismantle.

When his voice faded, I straightened slightly, my gaze narrowing beneath the mask. “Are you certain no corner of this tapestry remains hidden?” I asked, my tone sharpening, a subtle warning woven into the words.

Thalos’s face paled, his fingers twitching with a nervous energy that didn’t escape my notice. “No… that’s everything,” he stammered, his voice unsteady.

I let the silence stretch, a heavy cloak settling over the room, before I spoke again, my voice dropping to a measured cadence. “And what of the forbidden crafts—the human experiments?”

His breath hitched, his complexion draining further, the twitch in his fingers now a telltale sign of his unease. “Y-You know about that too?” he stuttered, his eyes widening as if I’d plucked a secret from his soul.

A soft chuckle escaped me, low and controlled, carrying a hint of satisfaction. “Is there a shadow deep enough to veil itself from my sight?” I replied, my tone carrying a quiet confidence, as if the answer were a foregone conclusion. I stepped closer, my cloak brushing the floor, my presence a silent pressure.

Thalos exhaled shakily, shaking his head, his brown hair falling across his forehead. “You’re sharp… too sharp for someone your age,” he muttered, his voice tinged with reluctant awe.

I remained silent, my mask’s eye slits fixed on him, the weight of my gaze a suffocating force. The tension coiled tighter until he broke, his shoulders slumping. “Yes… there are human experiments,” he admitted, his voice dropping to a whisper, as if the walls might betray him. “But I know little. The Count kept me at arm’s length. Though…” He hesitated, his gaze flickering to the floor. “I trailed him once. I can point you to the lab.”

“Where?” I pressed, my voice a low murmur, edged with a curiosity that masked my intent.

“It’s concealed deep in… the Ebonshade Valley,” he whispered, his tone heavy with the weight of the revelation.

The Ebonshade Valley—a remote, isolated stretch beyond Thalosridge, shrouded in mist and whispered dread. A perfect lair for the Count’s darkest secrets, a place where silence could hide the unspeakable. My eyes narrowed, my mind turning over the implications. Faelmont guards his work jealously, even from his own. Whatever brews in that lab exceeds Thalos’s grasp— intriguing, indeed.

“Fascinating,” I murmured, my voice a quiet ripple of intrigue, the word a promise of the chaos to come. I rose, my cloak swaying with the motion, a shadow ready to move. “Prepare yourself. We depart tonight.”

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Later that morning, I wandered into the courtyard of The Rusty Tankard, my steps deliberate, my mask gleaming faintly in the sunlight. A few locals lingered near a cart, their armor scarred from last night’s skirmishes, their voices low as they recounted the bloodshed. I approached, my tone casual yet tinged with a subtle edge, as if probing a mystery for amusement.

“Tell me of the Ebonshade Valley,” I said, my voice a smooth, measured drawl, feigning the curiosity of a child. “I’ve caught whispers of its… peculiarities.”

They exchanged uneasy glances, their hands shifting to their sword hilts, their faces tightening. The taller one, a scar tracing his brow, leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. “Folks have steered clear of that place for months,” he said, his eyes darting to the horizon. “Strange, terrifying auras drift from there now and then. No one’s brave enough to get close.”

The shorter ome, his beard streaked with gray, nodded, his tone gruff but laced with unease. “And it’s a fair trek from here,” he added, his fingers fidgeting with his belt. “A cursed spot, if you ask me.”

I tilted my head, a faint smirk tugging at my lips beneath the mask, my voice dipping with a quiet satisfaction. “A cursed spot, you say? How fitting—a haven for monsters to lurk, and now a stage for their undoing.” They stared, their discomfort a silent tribute to my words, and I turned away, my cloak trailing behind me like a whisper of intent. Inside, a flicker of anticipation stirred. The Valley’s reputation only sharpens the blade of my plan.

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That afternoon, I summoned those girls to a secluded corner near the inn, their young faces a blend of gratitude and steely resolve.

“Tonight, we strike at the lab in the Ebonshade Valley,” I announced, my voice a low, resonant hum, carrying a weight that settled over them. “Your comrade may yet draw breath within its walls. Be ready.”

The amber-haired girl, her golden-orange locks glinting, hesitated, her voice trembling with uncertainty. “Are we strong enough to face what’s inside?” she asked, her eyes searching mine.

I leaned forward slightly, my tone softening with a hint of encouragement, yet edged with resolve. “Strength is but a thread in the weave of victory,” I said, my voice dipping conspiratorially. “We may stand weaker, but with your all, a chance remains. For your comrade… you’ll give that much, won’t you?”

They exchanged glances, their hesitation melting into a firm nod, their eyes igniting with purpose. “We will,” the red-haired girl affirmed, her bright locks a flare of determination.

I nodded, stepping back, my cloak swaying as I turned away. “Wait,” I said, my voice a low, measured hum laced with quiet intrigue, “don your masks so Thalos cannot pierce your guise. He may not recall you, but for… certain shadows, caution weaves its thread.” My thoughts drifted inward. This raid transcends a mere rescue—it’s a key to unlocking the Count’s twisted crafts, a glimpse into the abyss he’s carved.

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Nightfall cloaked Thalosridge in a veil of shadow, the moon casting eerie patterns across the darkened landscape. I arrived at the city’s edge, my cloak billowing in the cool breeze, my mask gleaming with a quiet intensity. Thalos awaited, his anxious eagerness etched into his haggard features, his brown hair catching the moonlight, his robes a faded echo of his former stature.

“Are the preparations complete?” I asked, my voice a low, measured cadence, probing yet controlled.

“Yes,” he replied swiftly, his tone tinged with nervousness. “The mercenaries stand ready to strike.”I arched a brow beneath my mask, my tone sharpening slightly. “And the additional arms I requested?”

“It’s done,” he assured, his hands fidgeting with his robes, his fear a silent ally.

I tilted my head, a faint satisfaction coloring my voice. “Well played. Another hand joins our game.

”Thalos paused, his dark eyes narrowing with caution. “Who?” he ventured, his voice hesitant.

A slow, deliberate smile curved my lips beneath the mask, though he couldn’t see it. “My silent blades,” I said, my tone carrying a hint of intrigue, a veiled reference to the girls’ resolve.

He didn’t press further, his unease a tangible weight, but he nodded, bound by his desperation. I turned to the Shadowed Valley, its darkened expanse a canvas for the night’s work, a wicked thrill simmering beneath my calm. “Now then…” I murmured, my voice a soft whisper against the wind, my grin widening as a dark chuckle rumbled forth. “It’s time for another show to unfold.

”With that, I stepped into the night, my laughter a lingering echo, a herald of the chaos to come.

To be continued...