All the elders of the order took part in a dangerous game. Bound by duty yet driven by personal interests. At night and in moments of indecisiveness, the same two questions forced their contemplation: What can I gain? What am I allowed to gain?
For some elders, these two questions gave birth to a third, a question that begets a most dangerous answer.
Such was currently occupying Ethelred's mind. What if I leave the order?
Ascending the black set of stairs towards the eastern peak overseeing the plateau, Etylred gazed up at the pantheon's massive twin doors. A harsh wind blew a serene tune between the marble murals, contrasting the shivers Etylred felt standing before the entrance.
He had been called up here to take council with the order's other elders and the two grand consuls. Although this was regular and happened every quarter year, recently each of these meetings became progressively more unsettling to him.
His tasks had become fewer; his last official endeavor as an executioner now lay back more than two years.
Warm light fell onto Etylred as the twin doors before him opened slowly. As he stepped into the hall, a familiar yet unnaturally cold stone floor met his feet.
He returned the stern looks of the half-full assembly as he took his place on his seat near the entrance. The doors closed behind him.
At last, an old man entered, bringing snow into the hall with each step. His presence silenced the hall. The consul was bald and without beard; his face bore little signs of age.
As a constant shrill note, the consul's will assailed Etylred's mind, clearly notifying him of the consul's elevated position. An unchained immortal, someone who did not require any binding wills to uphold their realm of will.
He walked slowly towards the far end of the heavy wooden table. Etylred went rigid as the consul passed behind him; the female elder on his right similarly stiffened. The steps ceased.
"We have a task for you, Etylred. Old Radum requires your diligence once more."
The high-pitched voice behind Etylred left his ears ringing. He barely held himself together that moment.
He was to attend Radum once more. The consul did not wait for Etylred's reply and continued walking slowly towards the two regal seats at the table's head. The council's attendants followed the consul with their eyes until he sat down, leaving a trail of snowy footprints on the floor.
"We meet here in the great pantheon of yore, to fulfill the order's ancient duty once more."
Etylred's running thoughts were cut short.
"I will keep today's council brief; many members are still preoccupied elsewhere. You have surely heard of the rather unfortunate situation of old Radum. As exceptional as Etylred handled the Yellow Court's infestation, the inhabitants' change negatively affected our image and Radum's position as the desert's gate to the west. Sura'Mun has become the desert's new primary transshipment point."
Etylred frowned at the consul's words.
"We cannot allow for our information network to suffer from this. Sura'Mun has been an independent city for many years because it was insignificant. Now that they have gained the backing of the western region's factions opposing us, a dangerous intelligence leak threatens to encroach on our supremacy in that regard. We need to reestablish Radum as the most viable designation for commerce. Its geographical location used to guarantee this."
A sharp look directed at Etylred made clear what the consul was aiming at.
"Without righteous warrant, we cannot replace the citizens. Etylred is to visit Radum and only return once it is certain to be reestablished as the order's control gate."
Silence returned to the hall as the consul finished his announcement. Many eyes now gathered on Etylred; some smiled, filled with elation at this designation, that might as well be a punishment. Some, among them the elder next to him, eyed him with pity.
That sickened Etylred. He was made a scapegoat, one who would carry the burden of necessity and the reputation following it, and he knew this. But pity? That reprehensible thing—it degrades both its bestower and the object. In their pity, they merely announced their perceived superiority. He had to accomplish this arduous task, and not them.
Etylred was upset; his lips twitched. Instead of pitying himself, he returned to a calm state.
"I wish to travel to Lumen."
"I greet thee, Etylred. I take it you are here on the order's behalf?" one of the middle-aged men, in charge of operating the spatial gate, asked. Etylred knew him well.
Without saying a word, Etylred stepped inside the formation and awaited its activation. A light shone, and large amounts of vitality flowed into the formation. The cost of using gates was significant.
In a blink of an eye, Etylred had appeared at his designation, a middle-sized city under the control of the Vis family. A young man, in company of four guards, greeted him. He was the local formation master in charge.
"Greetings, Lord." He and the guards bowed deeply.
"Lord, my name is Ruben Vis. I obey the order." Pride exuded from the young man when he spoke these words.
"I am only here for transit and need not any of your or your family's services," Etylred replied.
Ruben's mouth was left slightly agape at Etylred's statement. It seemed he stopped himself from saying something.
With little words exchanged, Etylred left the building and walked out of the Vis family's sizable estate. He wondered if any of the guards present had recognized him.
The climate here was almost the extreme opposite of the frigid winter in the central region's mountains. The sun, not yet at its highest point, shone harsh light onto the yellowish brick buildings of the city. Etylred raised the hood of his robe as he made his way to the city's northern exit.
Although a trading route made its way from here through the desert, he wanted to take a detour to the next one, a day's walk away. His loose cover should at least hold before mortals when he would arrive in Radum. If a trading caravan heard rumors that a Lord of the order arrived here recently and then noticed a strange man on the very same route as them, they could potentially draw a connection.
Of course, simply taking a detour would not suffice to stay hidden from the eyes of a wisdom path expert, but Etylred had no such concerns. After all, this was still the order's territory.
He just had to appear innocuous to the mortal traders and citizens of Radum. Etylred wanted natural intel.
It was night when Etylred arrived in the neighboring town of Luror. The journey had been uneventful, with only a few other people traveling the road north. No merchant would take the unnecessary way from one desert entrance to the other.
Brass lanterns dimly lit the cobblestone street at the center of the small town. Gazing into the narrow side alleys revealed downtrodden dirt roads and small houses tightly hunched together. It was a typical view for transit towns such as this one: cobbled main roads to allow caravans easy passage, a few taverns for short rest, and little else.
Etylred made his way further down the main street and arrived at the town square, where he found the expected taverns and stables. It smelled of horse dung, spices, and faintly of ale.
He entered the tavern he thought most busy from the outside. Like many found at the edge of the crescent desert, the place seemed luxurious only at first glance.
The atmosphere was clearly split in two: exhaustion dominated those travelers who exited the desert, and anticipation and anxiety filled those who were yet to enter it. The first group made for easy but little rewarding customers; they were too exhausted to drink merrily and spend big, even though they had braved the arduous journey through the crescent desert. Celebration, if it even existed for these merchants, would only come in a larger city eastwards into the continent.
The other group was cheerfully drinking away their anxiety about the coming days of danger. Etylred walked towards the wooden counter at the other side of the entrance, careful not to bump into anyone, lest he make them spill drink and mood.
A woman stood across from him, occupied with refilling another guest's cup. She appeared to be in her late thirties but was certainly younger. Dark, almost black, curly hair hung low onto her linen dress.
The guest only grunted when she handed him the cup and carelessly threw three coins onto the counter before stumbling away.
Nonchalantly, the dark-haired woman turned to Etylred.
"How may I help you… sir?" She stumbled over her words, and Etylred noticed his mistake. He looked too cleanly for this tavern. He shouldn't have shaven himself the day before.
"A place to stay and a meal would be nice; doesn't have to be warm," he said, smiling slightly.
"You will have to share a room, that okay?" She turned away, filling another cup with ale.
Etylred did not mind; sharing a room with traders would just give him an easy in for information, perhaps even a spot on a caravan to the oasis.
"Not ideal, but it'll make do. Thank you."
She placed a cup of ale on the counter, mustering him again.
"Five coins for the ale, thirty for the room and meal."
Etylred took careful sips of his ale while thinking of how to pitch a spot on a caravan later on.
"So what's a man like you going into the desert for? Look too good to be a lone merchant." Etylred looked up from his bowl at the barmaid's question. He would have eventually asked her for advice to hopefully get the contact of a caravan willing to take him to the oasis. Her interest in him seemed to work in his favor.
"I want to join the western guard, personal reasons," he answered, taking a big gulp of his ale.
"You're a mercenary then! My brother—well… he used to be one." Her excitement dampened. "Haven't heard of him in a bit though." Her eyes lowered onto the counter, uncomfortable. She began cleaning dishes stacked onto a lowered table behind the counter.
"So, you're traveling alone or with a caravan?"
Perfect, Etylred thought. He scratched the back of his head.
"To be honest, I have not yet made arrangements; was hoping to join a caravan."
"Don't go alone!" snapped back the barmaid, her voice raised. When she noticed some of the more sober clients looking over, she fiddled with her washing cloth. "Ah, I mean the journey is plenty dangerous, right? You could ask old Carter; I am sure he'd be glad to take a mercenary to the oasis at least. Maybe even free of charge."
Now Etylred had a broad smile plastered on his face. He took another chug of his ale.
"Thank you! Where would I be able to meet that man?"
A cynical laugh escaped her lips. "That old drunkard is fast asleep in his room; was more anxious than usual. But he's a good man, plenty of experience too. He'll be up at sunrise, preparing his camels. Just come to the counter; I'll introduce you."
Etylred only nodded. He finished his stew and emptied his drink.
"Was delicious," he said.
"Glad you liked it, another drink?" the barmaid asked, smiling at him.
"Ah no, I'd like to get some early sleep in. Takes some time to fall asleep when you're as nervous as me."
"You don't strike me as the nervous kind, but sure. Here's your key; your room is at the end of the corridor upstairs." She slid over a large iron key and pointed to the stairs to her left. Without saying another word, Etylred stood up and bowed slightly before retreating upstairs. The old lock clicked as he turned the key and entered. He was greeted by only a single bed and a modest wooden nightstand. She had upped his room.
Early next morning, she took him to the stables.
"Carter, you here?" the barmaid shouted, her morning voice still strained and rough.
"Alicia, that you?" A voice came from further inside the stables. Alicia stepped into the stables towards the leftmost lots.
"Carter, morning. Hope you slept good after yesterday's escapism." A full-toothed smile was plastered on her face as a middle-aged man with an unkempt, graying beard came out of one of the stable lots.
"You know how it is, lots of tension right before the journey. So what gives? Don't you have some other guys to attend to?"
"Well, here's the business: a friend of mine, a mercenary, is looking for easy travel through the desert—a caravan."
"A mercenary, huh? Well, I've no real need for one. Furthermore, the route to the oasis has become safer recently. He's got cash on him?"
Carter mustered Etylred, looking him up and down.
Before he could say anything, the barmaid Alicia answered for him.
"Sure has, but he's a real good fighter, looking for the western guard, y'know."
"I see, he reminds you of your brother, does he? Well, a hundred coins and I'll take him to the oasis."
Alicia gave a helpless look at Etylred. 'Nothing more I can do.'
"Well, a hundred coins—almost a steal, isn't it? Meals included, I hope," Etylred answered, defusing the tension with a haughty reply.
"I hope you're good with your sword, lad. I'm the only other combatant otherwise. Ya' know how the route's gotten more dangerous after the order withdrew their personnel from the region."
"I hope you won't need to find out," Etylred said.
Carter laughed, crooked teeth showing.
"Thank Alicia, will ya. Wouldn't take along a youngin like you otherwise."
"Well, that said, we take off in two hours. We'll hopefully manage to arrive at that oasis within three days. I'm not taking you further though; I don't plan on risking the road to Sura'Mun. Lots of good money in the oasis anyways."
Etylred frowned. Of course, he had hoped for a full trip, best to Radum directly, but he knew it was unlikely. If no opportunity appeared at the oasis, he would have to join a group on their way to Sura'Mun. From there, he could still make the long way through the western region over to Radum. Perhaps he could also gain some information on the new trading hubs' factions.
After a light breakfast, Etylred returned to the stables half an hour before the caravan would set off. Carter was conversing with another man, much younger than he himself was.
"We only got five camels; how do you expect us to carry enough supplies for another member? You know we need to transport a lot to even break even!"
"Relax, Jamie. He's an acquaintance of Alicia. Besides, he's paying well. It's worth leaving some grain behind for the extra coin. Speak of the devil, there he is!"
Entering the stables, Etylred greeted Carter, nodding at Jamie whilst doing so. The man only returned him a sharp look, his apprehensions obvious.
"Well, that's Jamie. He's been on and off my caravan for a few years now. He's keeping the animals and some of the finances. But don't mind him; he's a desert dweller and knows his ways," Carter said.
"No matter, I'm quite lenient," Etylred said.
"Lenient? You're on our caravan here, remember that."
"Shush, Jamie. Give him a break. No need to criticize him before the journey. We don't even know yet how capable he is with that sword of his. May need him later down the road, so better settle."
Jamie didn't respond any further. His gaze focused on the sword on Etylred's hip.