The night had swallowed up Edelstadt.
The reverbers, fed by small light stones, projected yellow halos on the cobblestones, but the alleys remained dark, as if they refused clarity.
Ashen was advancing a measured step, hands in the pockets, the mask of the madman screwed on the face.
He had learned, over his dead and rebirths, that the shadow does not go through quickly: she is tamper.
He followed the murmurs.
Not those of the wind, but those that are only said in the right street corners, at the right time.
Kael Valemyr's men did not wear a uniform, but there were always signs:
A knocked scarf on the wrong side, a hand gesture before entering somewhere, a password whispered like a joke.
Tonight, the track led him to the warehouse district, a place that felt the wet rope, split wood and salt.
At the end of a venelle, a tavern with a nonexistent brand, lit by a single red lantern.
He pushed the door.
Silence fell immediately.
About twenty men and women were there, leaning on the tables or leaning over cards, but all had the same look: that of those who weigh the threats before the faces.
A colossus with a square jaw, seated near the counter, stared at him.
- "We don't serve the actors here. »»
- "That's good, I don't drink. »»
-"So what do you want? »»
- "See if your boss pays to listen as much as he pays to obey. »»
Some muffled laughter fused.
The man with a square jaw rose slowly.
- "You are not afraid of losing your teeth, you. »»
- "Lose them?" No. But I'm afraid of not using them enough before. »»
A heavier silence followed. Then, the colossus sketched a smile that looked more like a threat.
We let him sit in a corner.
A waitress with surrounded eyes brought him a glass of troubled water, "gift of the house".
Ashen did not touch it.
He listened.
Each table was rustling with coded conversations.
- "Kael wants it to leave tomorrow morning. »»
- "The prior validated?" »»
- " Yes. The lists are ready. »»
- "No witness. You know the rule. »»
Ashen leaned his head slightly, as for himself. Lists. Prior. No witness ... It was already enough to confirm that Kael and the church were not just in contact: they worked hand in hand.
The colossus returned to him, a small chest in his hand.
- " You. Since you're there, you're going to be useful.
You take this, you put it at the side door of the temple of the threshold tomorrow morning. No word, no question. Understood ? »»
Ashen took the trunk. He was heavy, almost too much for his size.
He nodded.
- "What if I'm wrong?" »»
- "So you won't even know how you died. »»
They exchanged a long look.
Ashen knew that it was not necessary to refuse.
And he knew that this package should not be delivered without knowing the content.
Leaving the tavern, he felt two pairs of steps behind him.
They didn't try to hide.
It was a way of telling him: we have your eye.
He branched up towards a narrow alley, slows down in front of a dusty window, as if to watch the exhibit ...
Then observed their reflection in the glass.
Two men. Not apparently armed. But with this posture of patient predators.
Ashen resumed his way, the trunk tight under his arm.
He had set foot in the outer circle of Kael Valemyr.
Not close enough to see his full game ... but enough to feel that each movement brought him closer to the center.
And he knew that the center, sooner or later, would be a battlefield.
The morning had risen heavy, covered, as if Edstadt wanted to hide something under his clouds.
Ashen was walking up regularly, the trunk against the hip.
He felt the wood working under pressure, as if its content still breathed.
Before even approaching the threshold temple, he stopped in an alley.
An old itinerant merchant was driving his carpets, whistling.
Ashen knelt near his stall.
- "How much for your knife?" »»
- "To cut bread or gorges?" Asked the old man without looking up.
- "Both, if the need arises. »»
- "Two bronzes. »»
Ashen paya, slid the little knife into his sleeve, then left the aisle.
He had decided: he would see what was in this trunk before putting it back.
In a deserted courtyard, he put the trunk on a barrel.
The lock was simple, but trapped: a small metal hook connected to a glass of glass.
He cut the thread carefully, then lifted the lid.
inside :
A pile of papers.
Civil registers.
Everyone wore a red mark next to certain names.
And above the battery, a folded letter.
He unfolded it.
"By joint decree of His Majesty Maelrath and the High-Prier,
The individuals listed must be purged from the capital before the first snow.
Their crime: deviance of faith and refusal of conversion.
That fire purifies their shadows. »»
Ashen closed his eyes for a moment.
The letter he had found at the Iron Library was therefore not a rumor: it was a plan in progress.
A soundtrack behind him.
He closed the trunk with a fluid gesture and turned around.
One of the men who followed him the day before was held there.
- "You know where it is, huh? The side door? »»
- " Yes. »»
- "Then advance. We don't like people who dawdle. »»
Ashen resumed his walk, this time escorted.
Each step towards the temple tightened the noose.
He could not destroy the documents now: it would be to sign his own death immediately.
The side door of the temple was high, clad in iron.
A white armor monk awaited them.
-"It's for the high-prior," said Kael's man.
The monk took the trunk without a word and disappeared inside.
Ashen stayed there, a vacuum in the hands.
He knew that these papers were going to kill dozens, perhaps hundreds of people.
Kael's man gave him a tape on his shoulder.
- "Welcome to the circle, crazy. Continue like that and you will see the king before winter. »»
Ashen watched him go.
The name of the king sounded like an ancient threat.
And in his mind, the chessboard began to take shape:
KAEL. High-prior. Maelrath.
Three linked pieces.
Three heads to shoot down.
Ashen had spent half of the night remember the names he had read in the trunk.
He couldn't save them all ... but some were precious pieces on the set.
And he knew where to start.
Twisted blades
The lane stitched moldy linen and heated metal.
The shutters were closed, the eyes absent behind the curtains.
Ashen hit three strokes on a low door.
A suspicious voice replied.
- "We don't sell anything here. »»
- "I didn't come to buy. It's to talk to Rian Dovik. »»
Silence.
Then the door opened just enough for a eye to appear.
- "Who gave you this name? »»
- "Let's say ... an old friend who doesn't like priests. »»
The door closed.
Ashen waited.
Then she reopened completely.
Rian was a blacksmith with tattooed arms, the jaw covered with soot.
He stared at Ashen as if he gauged him to find out if he was worth breathing.
- " Speak. »»
- "Your name is on a list. A list circulating between the palace and the temple. »»
- "So what?" I have known I have been on their list for ten years. »»
- "This time, they set a date. Before the first snow. »»
A silence.
Then Rian resumed:
- "Why are you telling me that?" »»
- "Because I need people who know how to take. And you ... you have the look of someone who has already burned and who asked for more. »»
Rian smiles, a smile without heat.
- "I listen to. »»
Ashen leaned.
- "I don't just want to save your skin. I want to break them. KAEL. The high-prorceur. And the king. »»
Rian slightly widened his eyes.
- "You ... you're suicidal. »»
- " No. I've already been committed suicide… a hundred thousand billion times. »»
- " … Pardon ? »»
- "Long history. What matters is that I know how they think. »»
Rian crossed his arms.
- "And I know how to kill a man in a full room without anyone hearing. »»
- "So we're going to get along well. »»
They left together towards another alley, even narrower.
An old woman observed them from a balcony.
- "Mara Venholt," whispered Ashen.
- "The healer?" Asked Rian.
- " Yes. The priests want her head because she refuses their blessings. »»
Rian hit his door.
Mara opened, a scarf on her hair, a piercing look.
- "If it's for charity, go see the temple. »»
- "It is precisely to prevent the temple from coming here," replied Ashen.
She stared at him for a long time.
- "You speak like a man who has already lost everything. »»
- "That's right. And I have nothing more to lose, except the satisfaction of seeing them fall. »»
Mara sighed.
- "Enter. But if it's a trap, I bleed before you said a word of prayer. »»
They spent an hour to speak, to exchange information.
Two red names had just switched from target status ... to that of potential allies.
Ashen felt the first line of his network forms.
The fine rain was shining the cobblestones of the ashes district.
Ashen advanced, a low hood, a dagger hidden in his sleeve.
He was looking for Jorek Tallen, a former scout of the imperial army, now banished and ... on the red list.
Jorek's house was to be at the corner of a narrow driveway, between a rope workshop and a closed shop.
But instead of a door ajar, Ashen found ... three silhouettes.
Long coats.
Black gloves.
And this way of standing, spread out, right hand towards the hip.
Kael's men.
- "Are you looking for Jorek?" Launched the one in the middle.
- "I'm looking for a hot beer and a dry place. »»
- "Bad answer. »»
The first released a cutlas, the second a baton.
The third did not move, observing, as if he was waiting for a show.
The first attacked quickly.
Ashen took a step back, Pivota, and let him go ... just enough to plant his dagger in the back of his thigh.
- "Aaaagh!" »»
- "You should be seated. Forever, "let go ashen.
The second attempted a baton.
Ashen grabbed him on the wrist, pulled violently, and pushed his dagger's pommel into his throat.
The man collapsed, coughing, unable to breathe.
The third advanced slowly, a fine smile on the face.
- "It looks like rumors are true. You know how to use a blade. »»
- "And you can lose your men. »»
- "It's not mine. Just ... tests. »»
Ashen hugged his dagger.
- "What if I refused your little exam?" »»
- "So Kael will know that you are just a jester with a knife. »»
Ashen's smile was colder.
- "Tell Kael that the buffoon knows how to cut the throat of kings. »»
He took a quick step, visa of the man's cheek, but on the last second, turned the blade to knock flat.
The man retreated, surprised.
- "Consider it as a warning. »»
The three neutralized, Ashen finally found the door of Jorek.
He struck three quick blows.
The door barely opened.
A rocky voice asked:
- "Who died?" »»
- "Not you. Not yet. Ashen replied.
Jorek brought him into, his gaze passing over the dagger still red.
- "You brought problems with you. »»
- "No ... I just bury three. »»
The door slammed behind them.
Jorek locked twice, then pulled a thick curtain in front of the window.
Inside, the room felt cold tobacco and weapon oil.
On the table, a dismantled rifle.
In a corner, an ax placed against the wall.
And on the fireplace ... a piece of armor, engraved with an eye.
Ashen immediately noticed it.
- "Kael symbol?" »»
- "Not exactly," replied Jorek, pulling a chair. "It is that of his elite men. Hunters of faith. »»
Ashen sat down slowly.
- "They are the ones who make the dirty work. »»
- " Exact. Purges, roundups ... and sometimes public executions. Kael gives them orders, but blood ... it's always the ones who shed it. »»
Ashen put his hands on the table.
- "I saw your name on a list. marked in red. »»
Jorek stayed frozen, hard look.
- "So you're more than a clown. Where did you find this? »»
- "Close enough to know that if you stay here, you died before the end of winter. »»
The old scout blew through the nose.
-"And what do you want? Save me? »»
- "I want us to be useful to each other. »»
Jorek leaned.
- "Do you think Kael is just a military commander?" It's wrong. It is he who holds half of the high-time by the balls. »»
Ashen haus an eyebrow.
- " How so ? »»
- "The priests owe him their lives. During the Northern War, Kael protected a sacred convoy. In exchange, the height gave him access to the prohibited archives. »»
- "Archives prohibited?" »»
- "Lists, prophecies, and ... names. The names of those they call "variables". »»
Ashen frowned.
- "Variables?" »»
- "People who, for one reason or another, can change the course of history. You maybe. Me, surely not. »»
Ashen got up and went to the fireplace.
He touched the engraved armor with his finger.
- "So ... if I want to reach Kael, I have to go through his hunters. »»
- "No," replied Jorek. "You don't go through them. You bring them to you. »»
- "And how do I do that?" »»
- "By killing just enough of their men so that they consider you a priority threat. »»
Ashen had a little smile.
- "It's risky. »»
- "It's suicidal," Corrected Jorek. "But I can help you ... if you get me out of this damn red list. »»
Ashen reached out.
- "Market concluded. »»
Jorek Serra, strong, as if he saw that Ashen's hand was well made of flesh and not lying.
The night had come across Edelstadt.
Not a dark sky - a metallic gray, reflecting the light of the oil lamps hanging on the facades.
Jorek quickly advanced in an alley parallel to the chiffonniers district, a hand on his dismantled rifle, the other in his pocket.
Ashen followed a few steps away, low hood, the dagger still in his sleeve.
- "Are you sure they will go there? He asked in a low voice.
- "The hunters always do the same round. Rue du Four, Place des Trois-Clous, then this aisle. »»
- "How many men are we talking about? »»
-"Three, maybe four. No more. »»
Ashen sketched a smile.
- "Perfect for sending a discreet message. »»
They stopped near an old overturned cart.
Jorek put a sandbag against the wheel.
- "Behind this cart, you are invisible from the entrance to the alley. »»
- " And you ? »»
- "I will be in the shadows, in height. When you have distracted them, I close the exit. »»
Ashen nodded.
- "What if it turns bad?" »»
- "Then you run. And I manage. »»
Ashen Ricana.
- "Bad plan. If it turns bad ... we kill them all. »»
Silence was done.
Just the regular drip of a water leak and the distant noise of a cart on the cobblestones.
Then, steps.
Three shadows elongated by the light of a lantern.
Hunters.
Ashen watched them approach.
Light armor, but polished black metal.
Everyone wore a short blade to the size and a religious symbol engraved on the chest.
The first spoke:
- "It's calm tonight ..."
- "Too calm," replied another. "The non-believers governed. »»
Ashen left from behind the cart when they passed.
-"Gentlemen ..." he said calmly, "... Do you think fate? »»
The three appear.
The chief frowned.
- "Get out, clown. »»
Ashen took one more step, slowly drawing his dagger.
- " No. Tonight, I'm the one who distributes blessings. »»
The chef raised his hand to speak ... but a dry blow echoed.
Jorek had just pulled in the lantern at the end of the street, plunging the scene in the shade.
The first hunter immediately attacked.
Ashen dodged, crochet his leg and projected it to the ground.
A second try to knock on the throat, but Ashen blocked his arm and slipped the dagger under the armpit, pushing the blade to the guard.
- " Two ! He whispered.
The third fell to call for reinforcement.
A shot slammed.
Jorek, from the top of a balcony, had just shot him in the knee.
Ashen stepped forward, wiped his blade on the wounded collar, and murmured:
- "Go tell Kael ... May the madman greet you." »»
Then he cut his throat to her.
- "We move!" Jorek shouted from the balcony.
Ashen nodded and rushed in the shadows, disappearing with his accomplice before other patrols could arrive.
Kael's office felt the weapon oil and new leather.
Outside, the rain struck the windows, but inside, the air was dry, almost suffocating.
A soldier entered, soaked, the armor stained with dried blood.
He knelt.
- "Lord Kael ... The Patrol of the rue du Four ... they ..."
- " Speak. »»
- "Three dead. All hunters of faith. The last throbed. And… "He hesitated.
- " And ? »»
- "We found that in his hand. »»
The soldier held out a small piece of wood.
Kael took him.
A coarse figurine, carved in a hurry, with a face painted with a grimacing smile.
Kael hugged the figurine in his fist.
- "The madman. »»
The door opened again.
A man entered, draped in a scarlet dress, an inverted cross around the neck: the high-care of the threshold church.
-"I was told the news," he said in a soft but cold voice.
- "He dares to touch my men in my streets," replied Kael without greeting him.
The high-price took a step towards the table, touching the figurine with your fingertips.
- "It's not just an attack, Lord Kael. This is a challenge. A declaration of war. »»
Kael supported his gaze.
- "And what does the Church offer? »»
- "Hunting. The real one. Not these unnecessary rounds. We close the districts, we search each house, and we tear it away from its den. »»
Kael frowned.
- "What if his allies hide in your followers?" Do you want me to massacre blindly? »»
- "Do you want to let it breathe?" "Replied the high-prior, a glossy smile on his lips.
Heavy silence settled.
Only the noise of the rain filled the room.
Kael ends up putting the figurine on the table.
- " Alright. But he's mine. »»
- "Little no matter who wears the final blow as long as he dies slowly. »»
Kael turned to the still kneeling soldier.
- "Gather the captains. I want dams throughout the furnace before dawn. »»
- "To your orders!" »»
The soldier left the room.
Kael stayed alone with the high-prior, eyes fixed on the crazy figurine.
-"This mask ..." he whispered, "... I'm going to tear it off myself. »»
The rain had not stopped since the day before.
In the alleys of the Fournaise, the water carving ash and the fat formed small black rivers.
Ashen advanced, hooded, like one shadow among others.
He had left Jorek at dawn, the dagger sharp in his sleeve.
Each step brought him back to the center of Edelstadt ... and to a truth that was starting to take shape.
A meat merchant, busy emptying a rabbit, whispered to a client:
-"Kael and the high-care ... in the same room last night ... It got hold of his hand, he seems. »»
- "So ... is that the end for the madman? »»
- "If it is not he who ends up a spade, it will be someone else. »»
Ashen passed, ignoring looks.
But inside the words burned.
Kael ... and the church. Together.
It was not a hunt. It was an announced purge.
He sat down under the awning of a closed merchant.
Lost look, he whispered for himself:
- "Two snakes ... but only one body. »»
He scribbled on a piece of stained paper: two circles that meet.
Kael, the brute force.
The high-care, the invisible power.
Separated, they are dangerous ... Together, they are almost impossible to shoot down.
Ashen thought of the mad mask ... but pushed him.
No.
Not yet.
Not for them.
This fight, he had to win him with his hands, his blade and his head.
A public crier passed in the street, protected by two guards:
-"In order of His Majesty Maelrath and Haut-Temple, any masked individual or hidden his face will be arrested and questioned. The northern and east districts are closed from the dark night. »»
Ashen laughed, a low and dry laugh.
- "So you want to lock me in a cage with you ... perfect. »»
He put the scribbled sheet and got up.
He already knew where all this would finish: in an enclosed space, without witnesses, with Kael and the high-prior together.
Not a duel ... an execution.
But the execution would not be his.
-"If I have to die again ..." he whispered, "... then it will be with your two heads on the same table. »»
The rain continued to fall, but Ashen sank into the alleys with a cold certainty.
The countdown had just started