He looked up at the statue again, hesitantly touching his forehead, before presenting his open palm to the tree. "Forgive the blood I am about to spill," he whispered. Meanwhile, his other hand reached into his inner pockets, unclasped the alchemical-bag, and pulled out the fourth vial —a black one.
He clasped his hands together, and bowed in fake prayer. "Activos," he murmured, before shattering it subtly. His hands caught flame, but in the day light, it was almost impossible to see. The flame gave way to black smoke, that clung to the tips of his fingers.
~Hopefully Itzel doesn't make a big deal about me being late,~ Vondell thought to himself, stretching before walking into the Labyrinth.
The Labyrinth was supposed to be one of Antras's wonders, a cultural attraction —should it ever become a major city of trade and commerce. But that was just what The Hall told the non-scion citizens. In actuality, it was one of several strategic points that could be used in the event of a siege.
It was a maze, with dangerous and enchanted hedges as its walls. Memorization of the paths was impossible, because they were constantly shifting. Not even Helen knew which paths led where; though this uncertainty seemed to attract a lot of citizens.
~Today is as full as usual,~ Vondell thought with a sigh, keeping a calm pace as he walked down one of the corridors. Today the hedges were decorated with moon flowers, they currently weren't in bloom since it was daytime, but their pink radiance was still a popular attraction.
"Lord Black," a woman greeted, as Vondell passed by her and her kids. She was plucking a few of the flowers, and placing them into a basket that her young daughter was holding.
"L-Lord Black," the daughter stuttered, rushing to touch her forehead and offer Vondell her open palm.
"Meilin, he's bus—"
"I greet you in peace," Vondell interrupted, touching the girl's palm with his index finger, before resting his free hand on his chest. He flicked a finger, and the black smoke on its tip went zipping into his inner pocket, and latched itself to the third vial — a purple one.
"And I you, Lord Black," the girl replied excitedly.
After a moment of silence, Vondell turned to leave. In that time, he had managed to attach his smokey strings to two other vials. Hopefully, it had all been subtle enough not to draw the attention of who ever was tailing him.
He continued his journey, greeting any residents he met on his way. As he walked into another corridor, the hedges to his right, began trembling. The Labyrinth was shifting.
~It's time,~ he thought to himself, taking in a deep breath.
A small section of the hedges to his left opened up, and he walked in. It led into an empty corridor, with dozens of moon flowers all along the hedge walls.
Vondell looked down at his scars, still flickering, before carrying on, this time at a snail's pace. After a second or two, his scars flickered faster, and a second more, even faster than that.
~Good,~ he thought to himself, before twitching his pinky finger. With that, the string of smoke on its tip pulled the purple vial from the alchemical bag.
"Activos," he whispered, before smashing it on the ground. A cloud of purple quickly spread out. "Expan," he whispered after, and the entire corridor was covered in a faint purple glimmer.
"I'm getting tired of asking the same questions," Vondell said with a sigh. "But I will anyway," he added, before twitching his other fingers.
Four acid elixirs were pulled out of the alchemical bag, zipping into his hands.
"Who sent you?"
The corridor was silent. However his scars flickered at the same fast pace they had before he set up the barrier. He knew they were here, somewhere.
"What? Another child of shadows?" he asked, staring at the shadow the hedges were casting. He drew Surth slightly, so that only a small section of her blade was visible. And she spewed smoke and ash into the corridor. The cloud of black and grey was contained by the purple barrier, making it difficult to breath for anyone who wasn't Vondell.
Now, he waited.
Even if they were hiding in the shadows, unless they were willing to die without a fight, they have to come out.
However time passed, and nothing.
"You're wasting both our ichor by being shy," Vondell spat, before snapping his finger.
With that, the section of the corridor covered by shadows were engulfed in crimson flame, that sent out shockwaves so powerful that the purple field flickered in struggle to contain it. The field closest to the walls in particular seemed to have gotten the biggest hit, as they glimmered with a slightly lighter shade of purple.
"This is the part where you start spewing nonsense about your god's love," Vondell spat, before snapping his finger again. Another explosion went off, this time engulfing the half portion of the corridor he was not standing in.
"That's what your partner did," he added, before using one of the sharp edges of his helm to prick his finger. He drew a symbol in blood on the floor, before whispering; "Contras."
The purple field became smaller, compressing the smoke so that it was even denser than before. Now the purple glimmer only covered half the corridor.
Vondell snapped his finger again, blowing up half of the covered corridor. He drew another symbol in blood, and the whispered the words. Once again, the barrier shifted, and now only a quarter of the corridor was left.
"I hope you get the message," Vondell said, standing up straight now.
For a moment, there was silence. He had been hoping to interrogate this one; if he could he wouldn't have to go on this detour to The Plains. And quite frankly, he wasn't looking forward to the trip. Antras and The Plains had been at odds as long as Antras had existed. And as one of it's big names, he wasn't quite welcome there.
"You fit the description alright," a voice called out.
"This again. I hope you don't plan on using poison. I'll cut things shorter for us. It won't work this time," Vondell replied.
"You, my friend. Seem traumatized," the voice replied, right as one of the moonflowers on the hedges fell off, slowly floating to the ground.
"And poison is a craven's tool. I, good Ser, am a season warrior," the voices said, as dozens of other flowers began falling as well.
"A handsome one, I might add."
The falling flowers began to bundle together, morphing into a humanoid shape. They glowed intensely for a moment, before revealing a man dressed in a white victorian suit. The staple wear of Leeds' elite.
"The name is Gregory Standford. Ser Gregory Standford."