In the last few leagues, the group happened across the main road and continued along the jagged path for what seemed like hours. As they turned the last corner, however, boredom eased from Stolas' tired shoulders in favour of awe. The town came into view, although it should rather define itself as a city if they forgive the lack of a cathedral. Upon the rugged walls of the Helgan Fjord sat Jünden. A mighty settlement, second only in beauty to the capital. It displayed a unique, macabre character. Dark wooden rooftops, tall arches and giant walls crafted from the charcoal-coloured stone of the cliff that blended with the clouded sky. An aged Lazerian flag fluttered atop the entrance in the limp wind that swept the valley. The company crossed onto the drawbridge and approached the studded iron gates, guarded by looming dragon gargoyles. Caine pulled them aside before the guards questioned anything.
"The chance the two of you will be recognised here, Kalou especially, is high. So, hoods up and try not to act like you own the place. I will act as your professor. We are noble scholars who have come for access to the library, and Éirean, you are our hired protection. Are we clear?"
"Yes." they replied in sync. With an affirmative nod, they continued forward, stopping as the guard raised his hand.
"Please state your business, and the time you wish to remain with us." He clutched a scroll in one hand and poised a quill in the other.
"A week maximum. I am a professor in religious studies from the capital, and I am travelling with my apprentices to research in the library. This man is our bodyguard." The guard looked them over. Suspicion gleamed in his eyes. Stolas gripped his reins. He scribbled something down. "Alright then, welcome to Jünden."
"Thank you," said Caine. They hurried inside. "That went well." He whispered, but the moment Stolas let out a sigh of relief, the guard yelled back.
"Hey, wait, do I know you?" His face heated and his cheeks stained. Fuck. They could not possibly explain their reasons for lying. Stolas' mind launched into overdrive, formulating solutions. "Bodyguard, where are you from?" He drew a blank. Éirean halted. Everyone's gaze snapped to him, and Stolas caught the warning glance Kalou shot.
"Ah, me?" Said Éirean, swirling round. A wide smile spread across his face that did not reach his eyes. "I'm nobody."
After a couple of hours wandering the streets, they found themselves in an inn nestled in the city's heart. This lodging was far more luxurious than the last two; a band played relaxed music in the corner, paintings and shelved ornaments decorated the walls, and the clientele looked to be middle class without a whore in sight. Stolas prayed the rooms would keep to the same standard.
"Can we not at least look in?" he proposed as he slumped down onto the bench, still eyeing the corridor for the bedroom situation. They sat in a secluded booth closest to the corner, away from prying eyes and eavesdroppers, with a convenient decorative sword displayed above them if the need to use it should arrive.
"There is nothing in that library I have not already studied. Iordan decreed that all religious texts are to be sent to him before distribution, so everything of use I own," said Caine, muffled through the pint at his lips. "You must be sick to death of books; it's been your entire existence until now. Take a break."
"It's hard to stop something you've been doing since before you could walk. Even before everything, reading was my life." he said, taking a sip of his own drink. The reality of Caine's words depressed him. Research ruled over everything, consuming his world for nineteen years. After this, there is no direction to follow, no goal. His heart accelerated at the thought.
They fell silent, and Caine's eyes narrowed.
"What do you know about the soldier?" Stolas flinched, although the question didn't come out of the blue.
"Not much," he answered with regret. "I'm the wrong person to ask. Éirean is my brother's Captain, and he is likely to understand his past more than me... but I know why you question him," He put his drink down and lowered his voice. "The interaction at the gate, it felt weird."
"Do you think the guard was not mistaken?" Caine suggested in a hushed tone. Stolas hummed, resting his head in his hands, elbows on the table, his fingers pattering his cheeks as he questioned how dubious Éirean's past could be, and if it even mattered.
"Perhaps."
"I've finished setting up the rooms," said Éirean as he slammed his flask on the table and placed himself down next to Stolas, who jumped in fright. He raised a quizzical brow. "Where is Kalou?"
"Here," Kalou responded, as he wiped his hands before approaching their table. Their attention and inquisitive looks fell on him. "Caine scarred me with his description of the latrine at that outpost, I could only go outside," Caine stifled a laugh, taking another swig. "Regardless," he sat down, "As you promised you would, tell us, what is the plan going forward?" the light-hearted atmosphere dampened as their minds returned to the task at hand. All three looked to Caine for guidance, curiosity blooming in their hearts. He leant forward in his chair and reduced his voice to a clear whisper.
"Well, you all witnessed the capabilities of the angels at the camp. As Stolas already knows, fallen angels cannot be injured. They heal fast, and the only way to kill them with steel - or even their own sick instruments - is to mutilate them and keep the pieces enclosed and unable to regenerate until too much of their black blood is lost. Wiping them out and defeating Belial is not possible with such tedious and lengthy methods, so we only have one another option: to weaponize divinity with a true angel's weapon, and dragon fire."
"Then, the eggs are-"
"For me to study." Stolas cut his brother off, and without realising his mouth deformed into a grim scowl. His mood darkened at the reminder of his future obligations, and through sharp eyes he noticed Kalou going to ask more but stopping himself and averting his gaze. Not now.
"The blade is a different circumstance," Caine continued, "That is why we needed to come to Jünden, to attend the underground auction." A collective frown urged him to explain further. "Alright, so I did not get all of my material through the most legal of means. There are some things you can only acquire from places like this."
"You are quite shady, aren't you?" Stolas remarked
"Hush child, the adult is talking, and if you even think about telling Iordan I will make you regret it."
"I think what you just said counts as treason," mumbled Éirean.
"Now, because of my previous business, I am a respected client of theirs and I can get us inside. This is also how I'm aware of the existence of the divine angel blade. At first, I was suspicious that the thing was an elaborate scam to bait rich religious idiots into giving away their money, but seeing it proved the legitimacy. The swallow looks like a perfect reflection of the tainted weapons, so drastically different yet with the same pristine quality that no human blacksmith could forge."
"If it is so amazing, then why has nobody bought it yet? Why didn't you buy it?" Kalou pressed, sceptical.
"Because the extortionate amount they are asking for could bankrupt this entire country. So instead, we are going to steal it."
"I am not against this, but I have not had the best experience of thieving from underground locations," said Stolas with a crumpled smile. Anxiety already crept into his mind as he considered the myriad of ways they could all end up killed and how this venture would, without a doubt, end up in disaster. "Do not make me do it again, I beg you."
"I'm doing this again?" Stolas glowered. For over half the week Caine dodged revealing Stolas' role in the plan and now on the night of the auction, as it all set into motion, he finally revealed the devilish detail.
"You carry the smallest presence of our group, and thanks to years of practice in your anti-social tendencies, you can fall unnoticed if you try hard enough. No one this far outside Nurbaldir knows what you look like up close. Although, behave properly this time," Caine spewed every and any excuse to justify his decision, all the while cringing as Stolas' look darkened into a deadly mix of anger and hopelessness. "Do not worry! This is no nest of dragons, and you are not alone. I have also tasked Éirean with stealing the blade. You will be placed into the treasury together," Stolas looked to his friend, who also seemed to consider protesting, but clammed up instead. Both groaned upon Caine's procurement of their disguises. "Everything will be fine. With the two of you, I'm sure you can find a way out of that cage. People have escaped before, you know, quite a show that was." He chuckled to himself. Stolas bit his cheek, Caine's laughter at such a thing stirred up some powerful sentiments.
The pair returned to their designated rooms. Methodically Stolas removed all his belts and chains, then his boots, coat, tunic and breeches, folding them on his bed in a neat little pile. Last, he let down his hair, shading his face, letting the rich curls fall over his shoulders and down to his waist. Stark naked with only the bandages wrapped around his torso, he reluctantly turned to the thin woollen tunic he tossed to the corner. It felt scratchy and rough, irritating his skin, with no shield from the elements at all. A flush crept up his cheeks as he realised quite how high this tunic cut. Stolas compared himself to a lady of the night. His hair acted as more of a shield to his dignity than any kind of protection this old piece of fabric could offer. With his face painted scarlet, he peeped out his door and shout-whispered for his brother who waited in the hallway. All Kalou had to do was pull up his hood. "Stolas, what's wrong?" Kalou asked, trotting over. Stolas looked down.
"This outfit is not suitable. Other than the problem of the piercing cold, please can you get me another that is not so… promiscuous?" Before Kalou could respond, Éirean emerged from the neighbouring room.
"My, my," he yawned, seductively leaning against the wall. "Are you sure Master Caine has the right intentions of dressing us like this?" he winked. The beige cloth cut even shorter on his taller, wider frame. Kalou paled. Stolas couldn't fight the feeling of inadequacy building up inside him. Caine snorted.
"Hah!" he cried out. His smile expanded into a gasp as he saw the brother's expressions, Stolas' mortified shame. Éirean ceased his mocking and joined him in snickering laughter. "Oh no," Caine held back hysterics. "Lord, Iordan would kill me if he saw this. I'm sorry, but it's priceless!" he clutched his stomach, almost doubled over.
"Tch," Kalou tutted, "How are these outfits of any help to our heist?"
"They are to be sold as slaves, their very bodies are for sale; it is a requirement for clients to see what they are buying," said Caine nonchalantly, as he wiped away moisture from his eyes. Stolas' guts tied themselves into a knot and nausea turned his face from red to green. "I'm sorry, but it is something you are going to have to deal with for the time being. I will stash your clothing and weapons, so as soon as you get out with the blade you can change."
Swaddled in his blanket from the inn to fend off the snowfall, Stolas followed Caine in a chain collar. With the leash, he led the two boys through dark alleys and backstreets until they reached the fringe of the city and the venue where the underground auction was taking place. "A dank shed, really?" Kalou sighed. Caine brought a finger to his lips, shushing him. The shed was in a miserable state, the wood half rotten and slimy from the constant wet of snow and rain. Its roof half caved in, and what sounded like a drip hitting metal resonated from inside every few seconds. Yet, Stolas noticed an intriguing hole in the door that did not appear to be organically made but carved out in a rectangular slit. He watched on in curiosity as his mentor approached the door and knocked in a pattern: four swift knocks, a break, followed by two more and then, to his surprise, a light kick. A pair of dead eyes filled the view from within the slit, accompanied by a deep accented voice that rang of the southern realms. Caine exchanged a few subtle mutterings as the person behind the door surveyed them all, one by one. When met with this stare, Stolas instinctively cowered behind his hair and wrapped himself up tighter, forcing the tunic down with a clenched fist. Upon seeing the prince's discomfort, Éirean shuffled in front of him.
"I apologise for laughing earlier, your royal highness- ah, um, Stolas. It was not at you but at Kalou's doomed expression." he whispered, glancing backwards.
"Do not be sorry. It is quite a comical situation we are in, if you think about it. If I was not so embarrassed in this attire, I would have laughed alongside you, and most likely at you. Your little antics and mockeries never fail to amuse me." replied Stolas with a gentle smile.
"I'm glad." Before Éirean could say anything more, the door swung open, and a silhouette beckoned them in with a flick of their hand. Caine yanked on the chains, and the boys obediently followed him and Kalou into the muddy shed. The smell of damp hung thick in the chilled air and Stolas dared not breathe deep out of concern mould would enter his lungs. Inside it was just as decrepit, but showed the purpose for which they built it, which was a very lazy coverup of the entrance to an abandoned stone mine. The small building only possessed three walls and backed onto part of the cliff, so as they continued forward, the shaft entombed the group in solid rock and plunged them into darkness. Using the feel of the wall, they guided themselves onward, and Stolas flinched as small splinters and outcroppings cut at his fingertips. Unfortunately, he could not banish the pain, or the entire activity would be pointless.
"One of those dragons would be useful right now," Kalou's voice bounced back and forth in the tunnel, taking a long while to fizzle out. "How long until they are born?" he resumed, quieter. But as Caine started to talk, Éirean jumped in.
"It is the spring equinox in two weeks. They should hatch by then, especially the drake. Their thick insulative skin allows them to enter infancy in cooler temperatures than other species of dragon." Stolas could sense the suspicion explode from within Caine and to a degree himself. Éirean had taken responsibility for the dragons since the altercation with the angels and seemed knowledgeable on the level of care required, but this fact was one that no one without experience or at least general research would know, and one not included in the notebooks. Stolas' gaze jumped to the signature burn beneath his collar, something that became ever clearer in his meagre outfit. Éirean read nothing when in the library with him and spends his spare time drawing or sleeping. There is no way this boy is simply an enthusiast, Stolas thought. With a small noise of acknowledgement, Kalou severed the conversation. In silence, they walked deeper and deeper underground until finally a low light shone around the bend. Two stern looking guards stood next to a metal door, one on either side.
"Good evening, gentlemen." Caine greeted; his eyes icy.
"Master VanCourts, you brought friends this time. Those two are for auction?" Said one guard while the other huffed, looking Stolas and Éirean up and down.
"Indeed, more than enough for premium prices."
"I should think so. They will go quick." Those last words left Stolas with a horrid sinking feeling. The guards knocked on the door and a beautiful, hooded girl dressed in a silk white dress opened it from inside.
"Please follow me," she said in a cheerful voice, yet without a smile. The group obliged. Gradually, the crumbling stone dissolved into fine, smoothed walls and elements of wealth and luxury transformed their surroundings into an expensive hallway. Vermillion curtains framed fine paintings that dotted the walls, and ancient portraits and religious scenes lit by dyed candles led them to two thick pine doors. The girl twisted the golden handle and with a light push revealed a sight that forced a gasp from Stolas' lungs; they stood at the entrance of a grand auditorium carved out of the fjord itself. Five rings of staggered stone steps with various patrons lounging upon them descended and encircled the central stage. Lavish plush cushions lined the seats, dim yet inviting light shone from overhanging braziers, and towering polished columns bordered the walkway that severed the circle in two. Even the ceiling framed the scattered stars in the moonlit sky, the glass dome deep inside the ravine funneling the moonlight and cascading it over the guests. Although Stolas could not help but think if the fancy furnishings were removed, this place would resemble the dragons' lair by an uncomfortably close margin. Some dressed sparse enough, he thought. The girl led them around the outside approaching the walkway, but without warning the hairs on the back of his neck stood up and he darted his head around to greet many pairs of eyes boring into his. A gaggle of masked and veiled women cooed and called as they went past, one even reaching out a couple of laced fingers to caress his exposed thigh. Upon contact, Stolas leaped away and slammed into Éirean, crushing him against the wall.
"Don't do that!" He shouted, although his voice gave way as the lady liked her lips. Stolas pressed back, horrified.
"I'll be bidding on you." She said with a terrifying smile.
"Eh, I like the blond one." another added. Éirean circled his arm around Stolas' shoulders and returned a black look to the catcallers that could render anyone paralysed. Until that moment, the reality of this endeavour never quite sunk in. He coughed, fighting the urge to throw up as all the suppressed feelings of distress leaked into his mind, but also the depression at his ignorance. Stuff like this was still happening. Has no one learned from the horror of the Trade at all? Caine even knew, and he did nothing. With a glare of lingering resentment, Stolas snapped back and realised then Caine had Kalou restrained in a headlock.
"Don't start trouble," he said roughly through a tight-lipped smile. Kalou did not respond but seethed and shrugged him off. An air of murderous energy enveloped him. "Oh, ladies," Caine kept the forced, kind look as he addressed them. "I ask that you do not touch what isn't yours, it's in poor taste." Their faces fell.
"Gentlemen," the girl in white extended her hand toward them and claimed Stolas' weary attention. "Please, the slaves?" Kalou's brow twitched. Without complaint, Éirean dragged him over, both boys wanting to get as far away from the women as possible. Caine handed her the leashes, and she inclined her head to the auditorium, this time all smiles. "Please make yourselves comfortable in the front row." With a glance behind them, there was an air of acknowledgement. Everyone knew their role and now came the time to perform.