Prologue (part 2)

It was only the next morning that Estrild realised her father would have never harmed her, since he was almost certainly sterile. It had taken half the night to do the deed, and she had only slept an hour since. But already she was being called again to meet her father, this time with riding gear.

They set off down the road to the village with only two of the Earls men (loyal soldiers from an old war, proficient in magic). All of them were hooded, and the Cageli wore plain clothing. The sky was overcast and it was spitting. Horses hooves splashed in muddy puddles on the dirt track.

They went at a canter through the village. Denizens stared at them as they passed through. Estrild wondered if the human she had killed was from here. The rain picked up once they had passed the settlement. It drenched their trousers where their rainproof cloaks did not cover. They travelled through the day, covering at least ten miles, until they reached a place just beyond the border of their estate (of course, the Earldom was vast, but only a little of it was owned directly by Alfred’s branch of the family).

The Earl brought them off the road and down a lane well-disguised for its size. They dismounted by a long stone building overgrown with vines and bushes. Estrild thought at first that it was a ruin, but using her enhanced perception spied glass skylights built into the roof, shielded by wooden covers. Glass was precious, so whatever the purpose of the building, it was important. The ground outside was well-trod, and deep grooves cut into the mud. Heavy produce was leaving here on cart. Honestly, it was not difficult to guess what was being made within. One could smell it.

Before she could speak, a group of armed men materialised out of the forest. Estrild drew her dagger and immediately prepared for a fight, but the men stood down the moment Alfred withdrew his hood. They apologised to their lord, and asked for what reason he had come to visit, which he explained as an inspection of site operations.

“It’s a Black Powder mixing works”, she said aloud. “It’s illegal.”

“Indeed”, Alfted said. “We will be going inside. I suggest you cover your mouth.”

She was handed a cloth to protect her lungs, and wore it reluctantly.

“You had me murder people for heresy against order, when you were already doing it as an industry”, she uttered.

“The priesthood profits from turning a blind eye to my operation. The whole kingdom does, in fact. Even if guns go against the order of the world, they have been used in every war in the last hundred years, and this operation accounts for most of the kingdom’s domestic supply. They couldn’t do without me.”

“But you said last night that things like this threaten your power. If there comes a day when a whole army can afford guns, well, most magicians are not powerful enough to stop a bullet…”, Estrild said, but there defeat in her voice. She understood things clear enough.

“Not everyone knows about this, that is why there must be some secrecy”, Alfred said, donning his own mask. “Come inside. Try not to throw up.”

The conditions within were appalling. The smell of sulphur was so strong that it was basically a haze in the air. The skylights were open slightly, but there was definitely not enough ventilation. Saltpeter, charcoal and sulphur were mixed together in great basins built into the floor. Teams of monsters worked with long sticks to keep it moving, and making sure the formula worked properly.

“Having runners from here would be most disadvantageous, so we make sure the slaves are kept well – better than a lot of the common folk. They know that they could never mention this to the authorities, since those authorities are either my men, in my pocket, or would kill every monster involved with such heresy. I’ve never had a problem. Are you listening? This will be your building one day.”

“Yes, father.”

The Earl paced down the side of the building, inspecting every one of the hellish vats, and speaking briefly to the overseers. He beckoned to his daughter once they were at the end. Together they watched the orcs work.

“You told me yesterday that you thought the current order of the world was stale, and that the Elvish order has frozen us in time for over ten millennia. To an extent, that may be true. But I wonder if that will change. This black powder works is a hedge, really, against the powers that be.”

“If history returns, then our family will have the resources to make great gains. If it doesn’t then I can cut this operation off with acceptable losses. Do you understand? If a house burns down, then make sure you buy the land for nothing. Just don’t light the fire, or the old residents will beat you to death.”

Estrild nodded dourly. “I understand. I have but one question… why not use the peasants as labour in your manufactories? It would be cheaper to employ them than to keep slaves in sustainable living conditions.”

“I won’t do that in my lifetime. I’d rather keep to slaves for now – if we employ the peasants en masse, it would change the social landscape and erode our own power. We would have to be completely sure we would be more powerful as a manufacturing family than as a feudal one. Maybe that will happen in your time, daughter, for you will live a very long life.”

“Anyway, let's move on to the packaging area, for the miasma is not so strong in there.”

Year 31,790

Earl Alfred didn’t realise his manor was under attack until minutes after it had started. He heard shouting late in the evening, and looked out of his window to see all the torches blotted out in the courtyard. Heaven was far right now, so there was no light at all at night.

Damn! It must be the priesthood’s secret police, though I didn’t think they would be so crude. I guess my economic gambit didn’t play off. But how did they get past my wards, or kill my linked birds without me knowing? I need to get Estrild.

First, he threw any documents he thought too dangerous into the fireplace (except the copy of Narven’s book, which could not be destroyed so easily), and blasted the pile with white-hot fire. Then he created a shadow of himself to stand in the room, before leaving and locking the study door behind him. The alarm had been raised across the household, and now shouting was everywhere.

A quick scry showed that his daughter was in the ancestral chamber in the tunnels. She should have left him behind by now, but the fact she’d stayed for him warmed his heart despite the situation. His veteran guards joined him as he made his way down a set of servants stairs, and through a short hallway by the kitchens.

A figure clad in all black leapt out from a shadow, and beheaded one of the Earl’s men with a clean sword-strike. With his other hand the assassin threw shards of metal into another’s eyes, making the man howl in pain. Retribution came quickly, as a veteran stabbed the assassin through his chest with ease.

Another came from ahead, but one of his man dealt with him quickly. There was no more time to lose; the Earl rushed his party towards the escape route. Every time they killed one assassin, another appeared. The secret policemen did not cry out when they were slain, not even when they were burned alive by magic, for their mouths were gagged going into battle. They jumped into battle without care for their own lives, acting as the terrible berserkers of order. When his men died, they screamed.

Are these even the secret police?  I suppose it's too late to worry now.

An assailant ahead threw magic missiles towards the remaining group, which Alfred deflected with ease. He responded by sending a splinter of wood through the man’s heart. They rushed down the last flight of stairs, to the lowest level of the building, where the torture rooms, the magic laboratory, and storerooms were. Soon they would be at the cheese store that was his destination (or where he wanted them to think his destination was; the secret tunnel was in the wine cellar).

The shouting had turned mostly to screaming and begging by now, as the servants fled into the pitch-black night to be slaughtered, like gazelles running into a trap. The attackers were letting there be no witnesses.

There were no more attackers down in the basement, and the household chef was somehow holding them off atop the stairs. Alfred thanked his remaining men, and sent them to defend the cheese store with their lives (they had pills of poison sewn to their collars). He then disappeared into the cool wine cellar, and twisted open the door to the tunnels.

This was an ancient space, built by his ancestors thousands of years ago. Enhancing his vision with magic, he quickly navigated a maze, before coming out into the ancient burial chamber. Bones littered the floor, crumbling to dust, without any apparent care given to them. Gold glimmered under never-ending torchlight.

A beautiful man with white hair and red eyes stood at the chamber’s centre, holding an elven blade to his daughter’s throat. The man grinned.

“Well, well, here comes My Lord the Earl himself. How I am honoured to be in your presence”, said the witch sarcastically. He spoke like a commoner, but Alfred did not doubt his power for a moment.

Alfred forced himself to be calm. Showing his fear for his daughter would do him no good.

“Let's cut the games, whoever you are. What must I do for you to let my daughter go?”

He thought, This guy isn’t secret police. Everything he wears is elvish, and he is a witch himself – can I use this to make him let go of my daughter? Probably not.

The witch continued to smirk. “My orders are to purge this house of anyone beholden to the dark powers.”

The Earl said, “What do you mean by this? Is this a plot by my cousin Daniel to take my title? If this is about the black powder plant, I can tell you that your superiors would not want it compromised.”

With the arm holding Estrild, he pointed at Alfred. “My superiors? That's a funny one. Anyway, you have a book of darkness on you right this moment.”

Shit.

“Father, now!”, Estrild called, and bit into the witch’s sword-hand.

The witch was unphased. He started drawing the sword along the teenager’s neck. Alfred had no time to do anything but put a magical shield between the Elvish blade and his daughter. The witch struck at the same moment: from his pointing finger came light so purple that it was invisible. The unseen beam pierced the Earl’s chest, leaving a scorched hole behind.

One of his lungs was punctured. He fell to the ground, crushing old bones beneath him. His eyes teared up, and so when Estrild and the witch walked to him side by side he thought it was an illusion, but alas, it was no such thing.

“I’m so sorry, Milord, but your daughter sold you out”, the witch snickered, coming to stand over him. “Through a temple intermediary, she informed us about your evil doings. She loves the Elves, you see, as much as we do. Anyway, black powder might be acceptable to those wordly priests, but to the preservers of the Elven order… well, it can’t be allowed. Definitely not.”

Estrild looked away. She probably didn’t want to think about her hand in her father’s death. But only one thing filled Alfred’s mind.

“Run... Estrild”, the dying man gasped. “He’ll kill… you too.”

The witch shrugged. “Well, maybe a fanatic, or a stupid plotter guilty of patricide, could have been useful to us, but I’m a professional at the end of the day. Sorry, dear.”

He pointed his finger at Estrild. Nothing happened.

“I poisoned you with lead beetle extract when I bit your hand. I’m glad you didn’t notice it”, she explained.

Lighting leapt from her hand, and for a moment the room was turned into the surface of the sun. The shockwave of thunder would have been visible ripping through the dusty tunnels. Every bone in the room crumbled that instant. When Estrild’s vision returned, she found the witch lying across the room, smoke rising from his charred corpse.

She strode over to take the Elvish sword, prying it from his clenched fist. Then she went back to her dying father, and knelt by him. His face, now pale from blood loss, looked up at her with great pain in his eyes.

“Is it because… your mother? Your… sisters?”, Alfred asked. “To take... my title?”

“You could say it’s because I think you’re weak”, Estrild said, her expression hard.

Her father managed to smile. “You’ll… be strong. I can see it. My… heir… tell me, promise… will you… continue our family?”

Estrild shook her head. “Our branch of the Cagelus family will die with you. I renounce the name. The future won’t be built by the scion of an evil clan, but by me.”

Alfred’s face changed, and for the first time that night, he gave in to despair. He began to weep. The young mage was already searching him for the book, which she found destroyed by the beam. A horrible scowl crossed her face.

“Why…”, he exhaled.

“Why do you think, old man? I’ll tell you this: I’ve been planning to kill you since you murdered Rea”, she said.

She killed me over a monster, he thought.

“But, why… leave behind the power… of the family. You could have… been as strong as... me”

Estrild put her lips to her fathers ear.

“That day, you told me that the cruelty of the world is just its natural form, that slavery and feudalism are no different from the sun and the rain. I reject that world in its entirety.”

“When I bring the elves back, your kind will only be recorded in the histories only for the sheer barbarism of your rule. You yourself will be nothing but a footnote found in the biographies of the lady who saved the world – and conquered it.”

With that, she cut open his throat, and let the last of the blood drain from his body. It was likely that the chest wound was survivable to a wizard of Alfred’s calibre, and Estrild would take no chances. His eyes stared at her in horror as he died, his cheeks wet with tears. Then, once he had slipped into eternal night, she picked up anything useful and left the room through the secret tunnels.