Night 11:25
The fortress of the Knights of Gwenevra.
In the aftermath of my brutal encounter with the relentless bank officials who sought repayment of my debt, a group of Knights appeared at my door. With stern politeness, they requested my company to their fortress. Though I harbored no eagerness to visit their somber abode, the gleam of their black steel swords held a persuasive charm, and the prospect of their persuasive arts unsettled me.
To my great humiliation, it was a former classmate, Aurora, who detained me. She bore Lycan blood in her veins, and while her stature did not tower over others, her extreme temper, coupled with her animalistic rage, made her a formidable adversary. My memories still smoldered with the recollection of her savage act as a child, gnawing on a minotaur boy. Thankfully, the boy was rescued by clerics, but the cruel spectacle of a child's brutality remained etched in my mind, a terrifying testament to the darkness within us all.
My head, bearing the fresh scars of my altercation, could not recall all the details of that fateful night. Fragmented memories drifted in and out of my consciousness, much like elusive phantoms. The Knights discovered me, and Aurora, with her sharp gaze, accused me of something involving brass knuckles. However, I possessed no answers to satisfy their inquisition. Subsequently, they ushered me into their carriage, like a lamb led to slaughter, and transported me to their formidable fortress.
In the initial moments of my confinement, disorientation clouded my senses. I struggled to discern the gravity of my predicament. In the midst of my bewilderment, a voice, vaguely familiar, reached my ears. "Hey, can you speak?" The words came from Aurora herself, who stood before me, snapping her fingers impatiently. Her voice bore a faint note of irritation. It was evident that she did not recognize me, a consequence of our long estrangement since our days in high school. To be honest, the wounds inflicted upon me by Corax's thugs were so grievous that even my own mother might have struggled to recognize me.
"Cyrus, are you certain you uttered the correct incantation?" Aurora directed her skepticism towards a cleric who loomed nearby. The cleric, a halfling, responded with annoyance, drawing closer to me for examination. "Girl, if you presume to possess superior knowledge, perhaps you should offer a more fitting invocation yourself!" The cleric's words dripped with irritation as they scrutinized my battered form.
The fortress of the Knights, shrouded in an aura of enigma and foreboding, loomed over me. Little did I know that within its shadowy recesses, my fate would be irrevocably intertwined with that of Aurora and her mysterious companions.
After a subtle quiver of my head in different directions, the halfling delivered me a most agonizing slap. A searing pain surged through me, forcing a yelp from my lips as I flung my eyes wide open. "Behold, he's unharmed!" croaked the halfling, his fingers scratching at his unruly sideburns. "Sometimes, my friend, brawn can triumph without the need for loftier intervention," grumbled the lycan under her breath, making way with a gesture from the halfling.
"By Mithra, I'd dearly love to see you confront leprosy with sheer brute force," he muttered, hands clasped behind his back as he retreated toward the alabaster door.
"What brings me to this place?" I inquired, my voice purposefully feeble, for it was wise not to reveal my understanding of the true cause of my arrest. The knights held scant respect for those of my station.
There was no reason to confess that I knew precisely why I had been apprehended. Aurora attempted a courteous smile, but her wolfish fangs hindered her efforts. "Human, you find yourself within the fortress of the Knights of St. Gwenevra. You stand accused of wielding and possessing contraband weaponry crafted by illicit blacksmiths and disturbing the peace. We are presently deliberating your case, and if you assist us by revealing the origin of these trinkets, we may negotiate with the city council to commute your sentence to a mere two years in the mines," Aurora relayed warmly, cradling one of my brass knuckles in her grasp.
The realization that my fate might well involve death beneath a mountain of stones wrung my heart with anguish. Cold perspiration trickled down my spine, and my thoughts became a formless mush. There was no use in deception, for individuals like her could detect falsehoods from a league away. A wicked grin crept across her countenance. She must have discerned the cadence of my racing heart, discerning my predicament. And the accursed scent upon my knuckles gave me away.
"Well then, human, what shall be your course of action?" the lycanthrope inquired with a playful lean toward my ear. Her eyes briefly shimmered a radiant shade of chestnut brown. "I shall concede to the possession of these unlawfully acquired arms. But I shall not betray the identity of the blacksmith!" I responded, my head bowed. If falsehoods were futile, then it was best to answer truthfully, unadorned, and devoid of guile, acknowledging that I was no sensible soul who had chosen such a foolish path to economize.
"Oh, I see, you are no tattletale. Ha-ha, how quaint! Yet, I am pleased you've elected the path of suffering over that of clemency!" Seating herself upon a chair, the she-wolf cast a cold glance my way and extended her claws, long and razor-sharp. "My lovely, perhaps we should not dive so deep into the abyss straightaway. We've scarcely conversed, Aurora!" I exclaimed, shaking my head in haste, addressing her by name in a nervous, panicked tone—an error of grand magnitude.
"THE PAIN IS A DEVIL!" Her keen claws sliced into my right forearm with such swiftness and finesse that even the most skilled of butchers would have marveled.
"How dost thou know my name?" With mild curiosity, Aurora inclined her head to the side, scrutinizing my countenance more closely. She appeared to wrestle with the memory of our prior encounter. "School!" I hissed through clenched teeth, suppressing the infernal agony, resisting the urge to unleash a piercing scream. Aurora pondered, yet her claws did not accompany her into the realm of thought. Deeming one forearm insufficient, she rent my left thigh asunder. "Mistress Aurora, thou and I partook of the same academy. Let thy fair head hath forgotten, my name is Caleb! Caleb Black!" Drawing breath heavily, I mustered the strength to elucidate my acquaintance with her name.
Running a hand, now marred with crimson, through her silver tresses cropped in a bob, she widened her bestial eyes, as though a revelation had dawned upon her. She seized my right hand with a sharp tug, bringing it toward her, and lapped at the blood. Weary of being naught but walking sustenance, I could endure it no longer and beseeched the heavens, "Lord, I implore thee, grant me but a single day, one solitary day, where some aberration doth not seek to make a repast of me."
"Curse thee, Caleb!" The wolf tasted the blood but briefly, promptly spitting it out. "'Tis me, indeed. Now, summon thy cleric to mend me, for I teeter on the brink of exsanguination, I pray thee!" Offering a nervous smile, I briskly nodded and then directed my gaze toward the halfling. "Prithee, Cyrus, wouldst thou?"
Turning serenely to the halfling, the she-wolf snapped her fingers and pointed at me. The cleric set his repast aside, and after dusting away the crumbs, he began to entreat the divine.
"Whilst the elder heal thee, couldst thou elucidate one trifling matter for me?" Aurora smiled genially, crossing one foot over the other. "What is the name of all that is holy wert thou doing, lying all contorted in the mire in the heart of the night, nigh unto a hamlet of lowly elves?" Aurora's eyes sparkled anew with a radiant shade of chestnut brown, and her voice took on a more unearthly timbre. "Ha-ha, 'tis good to see thee, too!" Beneath the uneasy grin, I endeavored to cloak my chagrin and shame. It was as though a stern matron admonished her wayward son for a shattered vase. My words only fanned Aurora's ire. "Be earnest." She brandished her fangs in a warning. Then, with a sigh of resignation, I recounted the entire tale in brief.
*******
"Lunar, have mercy upon me! Caleb, tell me in earnest, art thou in the final throes of folly?" Aurora lowered her head after hearing this, massaging her brow with her hands, and then she fixed her gaze squarely upon me with a look of pity, saying, "Caleb, perchance thou art afflicted with a malady of the mind, for otherwise, I cannot fathom how a sound soul could conceive of borrowing coin from those accursed Corvids—half-human, half-crow wretches! And who, in the name of all that is holy, didst thou borrow from? Ha-ha, cursed be Corax! Thou art beholden to the very offspring of Talvin Carvilius." Throughout her reiterative soliloquy, Aurora grinned like one ensnared in the throes of madness.
"You know not a whit about him, do you?" Aurora shook her head wearily, her realization of the depth of my predicament evident in her eyes. Emotions swirled within her gaze—genuine sympathy for my plight mingled with disdain for my own foolishness and lack of foresight. "Rumors of Corax's ties to a formidable power had reached my ears, but I remained blissfully ignorant of the treacherous quagmire that lay ahead," I muttered, lowering my head and absentmindedly tapping my fingers to ease the turmoil in my heart. "Blast it all! Why did this wretched week have to coincide with my feeble attempt at quitting smoking? Ah, Cyrus, by any chance, do you possess a tinderbox?"
Aurora retrieved an exquisite pack of cigarettes from the recesses of her leather jacket, plucking one with crimson lips before gesturing toward the halfling, requesting a light. "I'm afraid I carry something to ignite the poison between your teeth," Cyrus grumbled, rummaging through his pockets. "I pray Balor would rend me asunder, for I find myself surrounded by imbeciles."
"Cyrus, in case you were unaware, there exists a phenomenon known as holy fire. Every blasted cleric is trained in its use during their first year of pilgrimage," Aurora barked at the halfling, her elongated claws menacingly on display.
"I shall not defile the sacred fire of Mithras in such a manner!" Cyrus objected, holding his head high and folding his arms resolutely. The wolf snarled in response, prepared to impart a lesson to the rotund man that he would not soon forget. However, realizing that allowing them to engage in combat would not serve our interests, I stepped in and conjured a flickering flame at the tip of my index finger with a modicum of magic. "Just like the days of yore," I remarked, offering Aurora the means to light her cigarette. A semblance of joy and serenity graced her countenance as she savored her smoke. It was evident she had abstained for some time, and her frayed nerves begged for respite. "I apologize for my impertinence, Caleb, and thank you for the fire. But still, could you elucidate why, amidst the myriad creatures in this accursed world, you chose this Corax—this wretched addict—as your debtor?" The wolfess inquired with genuine concern, her cigarette smoldering between her claws.
"In essence, I found myself in dire need of a substantial sum of coin, yet no reputable bank dared to extend me even a few gold pieces," I began, the weight of my words laced with sorrow. "I implored every soul I could, but during those trying days, the doors of mercy remained resolutely shut. Driven to despair, I turned to the avian trickster, a rogue who beguiled me like an unsuspecting neophyte!"
With a dolorous tone, I recounted the somber days of my life. At that moment, I fervently wished that she could comprehend the depth of my suffering. Head hung low, I awaited, holding onto a glimmer of hope that she might, at the very least, express genuine sympathy. However, true to her nature, Aurora displayed indifference. "Ah, you indulge in needless theatrics," she remarked callously. "The feathered devil was the only one who lent an ear to my entreaties! Why embellish the tale? Just say that you were a humble, low-born man in dire need of coin because your mother, a night moth by the way, fell victim to a ghoul's bite. Given her frail magical threads, she embarks on a slow and agonizing transformation into a lesser vampire—a ghoul's vessel, to be precise. Ha-ha! Perhaps you should attend fewer of your dramatic classes."
She smirked and extinguished her cigarette in her palm, relishing my misery, though her reasons remained enigmatic.
Certainly, she had uttered words in the past that might drive an ordinary person to despair. Yet, in those days of yore, her venom was less potent. "How do you know she was bitten by a ghoul?" I inquired, restraining my anger. Clenching my fists so tightly that they throbbed with pain, I gazed at her with resentment. Did the bonds of our erstwhile high school friendship hold no meaning for her? "Caleb, it's as clear as day. Back in our school days, the entire town knew of your mother's occupation, all to put bread on your family's table," Aurora pointed out, raising one finger and then another, forming a simple equation. "Furthermore, I've encountered courtesans who've piqued the ghoul's interest. They were all of lesser or, in rare cases, middling quality—playthings not worth sparing, so to speak." She wore a familiar smirk, intent on uttering something truly malevolent. "Ha-ha! I'd wager your mother had her fill of orc companionship, enough to rebuild an entire great green horde single-handedly!"
******
"Why do you harbor such resentment toward me?" I inquired, my anger surging like a tempest. I sank my teeth into my lower lip, causing my short beard to turn scarlet. Rolling her eyes and cocking her head to the side, Aurora irritably retorted, "'Caleb, my ire is not directed at you, not at all! It's aimed at your shameless mother and your ceaseless sympathy for her. Your pitiful vulnerability as an unprotected child vexes me! Catherine is a wretched woman, a self-absorbed hag who has exploited you throughout your life! And you've allowed it, all these years. If you were a true man, you would have put an end to it long ago."
Her tone shifted from one of seething anger to one laden with sorrow and frustration. Running her hand through her hair, she continued, "Just look at yourself! Some might argue that your mother had no other recourse—a destitute human maiden, widowed and bereft of a protector for her child. But I shan't pretend to be virtuous and claim that only the gods can judge her transgressions. No, to me, it's quite straightforward. Catherine is a common harlot who seized upon an excuse, as so many others have done before her. Tell me honestly, has she ever made an effort to secure an honorable occupation?"
Tilting my head back with a grimace and fixing my gaze upon the timeworn ceiling, I responded, "I know not. My mother never spoke of it. Whenever I attempted to fathom her actions, she would unleash her wrath, hurling whatever objects were within reach. After such fits, she would descend into hysterical weeping, offering profuse apologies for her deeds." Bitter recollections surged within me, and I yearned to release the pent-up anguish and weep like a vulnerable maiden. But my past experiences restrained me, and the awareness that I couldn't reveal weakness held me back.
"'Caleb, that's the way of people like her," Aurora consoled, patting my knee kindly. "They cast blame upon the world and all others for their own failures, then demand compassion and love in return. They possess no empathy for those who care for them."
"Perhaps you are right, but she is still my mother," I replied, torn and vexed. Aurora, however, responded with a resounding slap, causing stars to dance before my eyes. She gripped my cheeks firmly with both hands, fixing her gaze upon mine as she declared, "Snap out of it, you imbecile! Have you forgotten how that wretched woman beat you herself in front of everyone when she discovered you had fought back against the goblins? I wouldn't be surprised if she dallied with a few of them to make amends! Just hearing her name turns my stomach. You spent twenty-three years in the company of that malevolent sorceress. Admit it, you harbor fury for all she subjected you to! She bartered you for worldly pleasures, and you strive to play the role of a saint while bearing a broken soul."
Each word she uttered felt like needles piercing my very being, compelling me to slowly acknowledge and embrace the harsh truth. "Look at this! Would your father be proud of you? Would he commend his son for becoming a mere vessel for the bloodlust of affluent deviants?" Aurora seized my hands, gesturing toward the scars from the incessant bloodletting.
"And you've been doing this for more than a decade, haven't you? Ha-ha, you are a fool. Like a mother, like a son, it seems. Both of you peddled your bodies as commodities. You are naught but a rotting piece of flesh, soon to your delight, to be bartered along with your beloved mother, paying with all you possess," Aurora's fangs bared as she delivered a forceful blow to my jaw that sent me tumbling from my chair. Desolation enveloped me, for every word she spoke resonated with unerring truth. My wretched existence, every agonizing moment, was the product of my own passivity. Day after day, I existed as a lowly worm, subjugated by all. Dawn ceased to herald hope, instead becoming a harbinger of my personal torment. A daily balancing act upon the precipice between order and chaos. The anticipation of being torn asunder while preparing foul tea, the constant dread of returning home to confront a wrathful mother who accused me of every imaginable sin, all without a single word of gratitude for my care and attention
Through the night's oppressive veil, I endured her anguished screams, the consequences of her unwillingness to seek safer employment. Her insatiable greed had led me here, and my spineless acquiescence bore me down. Amid this torment, a realization dawned upon me: I needed to embrace death to make way for the birth of something new.
Summoning what little strength remained within me, I rose unsteadily to my feet, clenched my will into a resolute fist, and addressed Aurora with unwavering resolve. "Lady of the Law, I beseech you to grant me a chance at redemption and to clear the name of my kind. I implore your merciless judgment and request to be consigned to the endless abyss," I declared firmly.
The lycanthropic figure regarded me with a mixture of curiosity and intrigue, falling into a contemplative silence. After a period of reflection, she stroked her chin and nodded in approval. "Since your resolve is so steadfast, I shall offer you a second opportunity by casting you into this dreadful abyss, with no promise of return," Aurora commanded, affixing shackles of cursed iron upon me. "However, know that even if you find your way back, you are forbidden to depart this pit until five years have elapsed."
"I am deeply grateful to you, my lady, for your consideration," I replied, bowing my head in humble acceptance, thankful that I had at last made a decisive choice in my life as a man. With a simple gesture from the halfling, I was beckoned to follow, and I dutifully complied.
Aurora's final words echoed in my ears as I embarked on this perilous journey: "Seek not to soil your garments when you encounter your first genuine monstrosity!"