The Return - Part 1

Val and Katya’s trip back to the surface was largely made in an exhausted silence. They travelled for two days and two nights with the party they’d rescued from the rampaging dire bull, now all but back to fighting form thanks to Val’s surplus of healing items, following basically the same path they’d walked on their way down.

After they broke camp the morning after the fight, one of the party members, a tall man dressed in fur robes and an obscene number of bone necklaces had left the group to notify the Chaliciary guild of the fate of their party, transforming into a stag in a flash of light and sprinting off ahead of the others. The rest of the warriors were left to travel at a less supernatural pace.

Val’s pack was weighed down with the spoils of the dire bull fight. A small selection of meat, bones, an enormous hide that, even rolled up and tucked in, hung to the ground and, most impressively, a set of gigantic shining black and silver metal horns lashed to his pack with leather straps, but the mood was not one of triumph. Katya had been quiet since the encounter. Mere minutes after she had dealt with the bull, bringing it down with no apparent effort, her wounds had reopened and she had to be healed with potions and spells alongside Val and the others.

Between Katya’s natural reticence, Val’s crushing disappointment at having lost a huge portion of his supplies to the fight with the bull and treating the rescued adventurers, as well as his forced reassessment of his ability to complete his solo mission to the bottom of the labyrinth, conversation was sparse. The newcomers were also quiet, suffering a kind of shell-shock after losing half their number, as well as a growing intimidation at seeing Katya all but one-shot a boss monster that nearly wiped them out.

At night, around the fire, Val heard the legend of the powerful descendant of the Ten Thousand Blades taking root in whispered exchanges, but he did not engage, choosing instead to sit away from the others to keep an eye on Katya. If she was aware of his presence, or the occasional glances he stole, she did not show it, spending the time each night until they slept simply staring out into the darkness, her eyes blank and her expression inscrutable.

She ate, slept and travelled away from the group, keeping her distance even during the short fights that occurred, though the battles with the monsters scattered across the early floors were quick and simple affairs with such a comparatively large party.

They reached Abyssia, the frontier town that had sprung up around the entrance to the labyrinth, on the morning of the third day. Val’s disappointment at returning cut a sharp contrast to the relief in the worn faces of the adventurers they travelled with.

Val trailed behind the rest of the group, a little ahead of Katya, as they approached the gates.

“Val,” Katya said, only loud enough for him to hear.

Val stopped and turned to find that Katya had ceased walking. He glanced back at the others, who continued onward, their conversation picking up as the exit came closer and closer.

He walked back to Katya.

“What’s wrong?” he asked her.

She didn’t respond, instead looking past him, watching the others, avoiding eye contact as she had since the battle with the bull.

“Just, wait until…” she gestured to the rest of the group, for whom the gates of Abyssia had just been thrown open, and had broken ranks in their excitement.

Val approached Katya and stood next to her, joining her in watching the last of the relieved adventurers trickle through the gate and out of sight.

Katya took a deep breath.

“If -” she started, but fell silent mid-sentence.

A large group of royal guards, perhaps thirty of them, resplendent in their silver armour, spilled out of the town in tight formation. Their eyes were locked to Val and Katya, and they made a beeline for the pair, moving at a light jog, their boots striking the ground in unison.

Val muttered a curse, and his hands found the hammers on his belt.

Katya did not reach for her greatsword, instead putting out a low hand toward Val, a subtle gesture to tell him not to draw his weapons.

He clenched his hands into fists, and let them hang at his sides.

Val and Katya watched the guards, tension in their every muscle, as they came to a sudden halt a few metres in front of the pair.

A short but well-built woman stepped forward from the second rank. Her armour was identical to the others, but the horse-hair plume on her helm was dyed a deep blue, a flourish that both Val and Katya recognised as an indicator of the rank of guard sergeant. She approached with a confident stride, stopping a few steps away from Katya.

Val watched her intently, but she made no move to draw the short-sword that hung from her waist, and her shield was strapped to her back. He glanced past her at the other guards and, while they stood stiff at attention, to Val’s eyes they did not seem to be readying themselves for a fight.

“Hello, Katya,” the sergeant said, her tone casual.

“Hello, cousin Gertie,” came Katya’s deadpan reply.

The sergeant’s eye twitched, and she smiled broadly.

“Gertrude,” she corrected, then moved on, “You’ve been summoned by the gilt council, and I’m here to escort you.”

Her eyes flicked to Val for the first time.

“Who’s this?”

“Nobody,” Katya said, “Just another traveller, I’m paying him to carry my pack for me.”

Val threw Katya a questioning look, but she didn’t respond. Taking the hint, he adjusted his expression to one of mild disinterest and nodded agreement. Gertrude narrowed her eyes, and Val could tell she wasn’t buying it.

Before Gertrude could ask any follow up questions, or Val could try to expand upon her deception, Katya’s hand snapped to the handle of her greatsword and she drew it smoothly. She swung the blade until the point came to rest only a few inches from the sergeant’s face. Val saw a couple of the guards reach for their weapons, and his own hands began to move in kind, but Gertrude stood impassive.

A few tense seconds passed and, just as suddenly as she’d drawn it, Katya turned the weapon, bringing the blade to rest on her off hand and offering the sword up to Gertrude.

“Very well,” Katya said, her voice even.

Gertrude smirked.

“That won’t be necessary,” she said, “Come on, and bring him with you.”

With that, Gertrude spun on her heel and the rest of the guards followed suit, marching back toward Abyssia.

Katya sighed and sheathed her giant blade. A flash of tension broke through her blank expression momentarily, but she noticed Val looking at her and brought it under control.

“Katya…” Val started, but she strode off after the guards before he could continue his sentence.

After a few moments, Val followed, falling into step beside Katya.

—

The hall of the gilt council was suitably extravagant, considering the financial and political capital that the guilds wielded in Al’Lachia. Standing in the shadow of the royal palace, it did not share the military bent of the castle, with its high towers and parapets, but was built as a luxurious social club, where the influential met and cavorted among beautifully appointed rooms filled with plush furnishings.

The only exception to this design philosophy was the council chambers which, while still expensive, had an authoritarian edge intended to intimidate those who were brought before the council to grovel for some boon or answer for some misdemeanour. At least, it seemed that way to Val, who had never been summoned here before.

He stood a little away from Katya, who had been led to a small dais at the centre of the room, and watched as the meisters and wards of the various guilds filed in and took their seats in the rows above. Of the forty or so high-backed wooden chairs that circled the room, set in three elevated rows, only a little over half were filled when the brown robed arbiter who had led them inside called for the session to begin.

Katya stood defiant at the centre of the room, her chin high and her eyes steely. Val found himself admiring the manner with which she responded to the chorus of faces looking down on her with venom, mild disinterest, jealousy and, occasionally, outright hostility.

Okay, Val thought, so they’ve met her before.

Both Val and Katya had removed their travel-stained armour in the antechamber while they waited almost an hour for enough of the gilt council to arrive to constitute a quorum, and were also strongly encouraged to leave their weapons in the same room. They hadn’t had time to discuss what had happened, even if Katya hadn’t barely said ten words since leaving level five, as servants and attendants skittered hither and to with refreshments and deep bowls of scented water for them to refresh themselves with.

Chie, the guild-ward of the Black Horn, whom Val recognised from the night of the festival, stood. The murmurs in the room fell to immediate silence, acknowledging that, despite her young age and even though she was only the second-in-command of the Black Horn guild, with the other slightly-fancier-than-the-rest chairs of the major guilds sitting empty, she was the most high ranking individual present.

“The Black Horn calls this council to order,” she said, her voice deep and resonant, which struck Val as an odd contrast with her petite frame, pixie-like hairstyle and big, starry eyes, “The Terminus guild has requested this out of session hearing, and I hereby yield the floor to Meister Kinsey.”

A tall, heavy-set, barrel of a man in black and gold regalia stood from his chair amongst a clump of attendees in the second row as Chie took her seat. He locked eyes with Katya, who had apparently not noticed him until this moment. His expression was cold, but she did not waver, and met his frosty gaze with her own.

For a long moment, he said nothing, then cleared his throat.

“Terminus called this extra procedural hearing to formalise the immediate excommunication of one of our members,” began Kinsey, his voice as rich and smooth as honey, a politicians timbre, “And have lodged a petition to ban the aforementioned from all guild memberships, by authority of the council, henceforth.”

A murmur made its way around the room, small pockets of whispered conversation popping up between the various guild leaders.

Katya’s face dropped. This was, while not unheard of, an extreme punishment, but she had undoubtedly earned the ire of the guild leaders when she’d stolen their entire allocation of guildmarks and forced them to delay a long-planned expedition to blood their new generation of recruits in battle with the floor boss of level twenty.

She wondered if she'd been rushed before the council to be publicly lambasted and blacklisted because they’d heard she’d also stolen their glory completely by killing the boss herself, or if the Meister was just that petty.

“However,” Kinsey continued, interrupting Katya’s thought, “We have decided to rescind this petition, effective immediately. I apologise for wasting the council’s time today.”

The murmur became a grumble as the gathered councillors let their grievance with this course of action, and their wasted time, be known, but the arbiter only let the rabble carry on for a short while before clapping his hands and calling for silence in the chamber.

Chie was already standing as the room fell back into aggravated silence.

“Well,” she spoke over the remaining outraged outbursts, though there was no annoyance present in her tone, “If there’s no other business, I think we’re done here.”

—

Val and Katya were herded by two attendants back to the antechamber, where they found Vasson waiting for them. He stood off to the side of the room, examining the iron horns of the dire bull that were still strapped to Val’s pack. When the two entered, he did not turn to face them.

“An impressive prize for a soloist,” he said, thinking aloud, “Especially this early in their career.”

Val said nothing, unsure of what to make of the tall hatchet of a man in bright, garish silks. Despite, or perhaps because of, his extravagant style, he carried himself with the confidence of someone exceptionally dangerous, and his presence put Val on edge.

Katya, however, did not appear at all intimidated.

“I assume I have you to thank for that,” she said, her tone not exactly apologetic, but certainly more contrite than Val had ever heard it.

“Not at all,” came Vasson’s response, and Katya’s entire body tensed.

“If I’d had my way,” he continued, “That would have been your last excursion into the labyrinth, but I was… Overruled.”

Katya didn’t respond, her mouth setting into a furious grimace.

“Meister Kinsey insists he saw promise in you from the beginning,” Vasson finished, “And he certainly sees the potential of having a warrior on the roster that is now being spoken of as ‘the Ten Thousand Blades reborn’.”

Katya stared daggers at Vasson, and he responded by glancing over to the pile of Katya’s discarded armour.

“Ah,” he said.

With two long steps, he reached her belongings, and retrieved the sack containing Terminus’ guildmarks. He rattled the pouch in his hand, apparently satisfied with the weight.

“Well, I have what I came for, I’ll see you on the training field tomorrow.”

Vasson walked past Katya, passing between her and Val, then paused.

“I understand Amir is looking forward to welcoming you back personally,” he remarked.

Without waiting for a response, he walked out the door, closing it behind him.

Val waited, watching Katya clench and unclench her fists.

There was a sudden knock on the door, and she flinched. She spun around, furious, stalked back past Val to the door and grabbed the handle.

“What!?” Katya near-yelled as she threw the door open.

A terrified looking attendant stood in the hallway, his hands full of sealed envelopes and pieces of folded paper.

“I have these,” the attendant stuttered, “For you.”

Katya stared at the man, eyes blazing, and he shrank before her.

“I’ll take those,” Val said, rushing to place himself between Katya and her prey, “Thank you.”

The attendant visibly sighed with relief as he handed the letters to Val, and fled down the hall without another word.

Val closed the door and walked past Katya, placing the letters on the table at the side of the room. Katya appeared beside him and grabbed a letter from the top of the pile, tearing it open.

Val moved back a step, unsure what to say, or if there was even anything to be said. He had no idea what he was going to do next, especially as it seemed that Katya was going back to her guild. Even if he’d been invited, he certainly wouldn’t be accompanying her, considering he now knew that the swordsman he’d cursed had an axe to grind. Even though his solo attempt at the labyrinth had been a wash, he still had all of his weapons and gear, and he figured he could at least sell half of the loot he’d gathered on their journey, find someone who could tell him about this ‘Fastus Patri’ skill he’d unlocked, since Katya didn’t seem to want to talk about it.

Katya finished reading the note, threw it on the table and opened another, and another, before briefly reading and tossing them aside as well. By the fourth letter, a grim smile had appeared on her face, catching Val’s attention.

“What?” Val asked.

Her grin grew wider, and a malicious glint appeared in her eye.

“I’ve, well…” she replied, “Well, we’ve been invited to dinner.”

“Where?”

“Everywhere.”