Chapter 8: Whispers in the Shadows

The capital city of Serpentonia was a labyrinth of twisted alleyways, towering buildings, and ancient cobblestone streets that told stories of a thousand years. When night fell, the city turned into a completely different place. The hustle and bustle of the day gave way to an eerie stillness, broken only by the occasional clatter of a stray cat or the distant murmur of a late-night tavern brawl. The moon hung low in the sky, casting long shadows that stretched endlessly, obscuring the faces of those who moved within them.

A man in black robes navigated these shadows with ease, his footsteps barely making a sound against the cobblestones. He moved with a purpose, yet there was an air of caution about him as if he knew the dangers that dwell in the dark corners of the Capital. The Persons's face was hidden by the hood of his cloak, but his sharp gaze could be felt even from a distance. His name was Aedelric, known to some as the Wraith, a title that carried fear and respect in equal measure.

As he ventured deeper into the capital underbelly, the narrow alleyways became even more deserted. The few people who remained on the streets were of a different sort, their eyes wary, their hands never far from hidden weapons. These were the people who thrived in the dark, who conducted their business in whispers and shadows. But even they gave Aedelric a wide berth, sensing that he was not a man to be trifled with.

The buildings around him grew older and more deprecated as parts of its foundation had broken apart with time. The air was thick with the scent of mildew and decay, and the sound of dripping water echoed through the narrow passageways. Aedelric pressed on, his destination clear in his mind. He knew these streets well; they were as familiar to him as the back of his hand.

Finally, he arrived at a seemingly unremarkable door, half-hidden behind a stack of rotting crates. To the untrained eye, it seemed to be the entrance to a forgotten cellar or maybe a rundown Distillery catering to the lowest of the low. But Aedelric knew better. This was no ordinary door; it was a gateway to a world few knew existed.

He raised a small, light-emitting device, its soft glow illuminating the worn wood of the door. The carvings etched into its surface were barely visible, but Aedelric knew their meaning well. They were symbols of power, ancient runes that guarded the secrets within. He knocked on the door three times. Each knock echoed through the silence of the alleyway. The sound was almost rhythmic, a coded signal of old alliances and even older pacts.

A moment passed before the door creaked, open just a fraction. A pair of eyes, sharp and discerning, peered out from the darkness beyond. The gatekeeper is a man of few words. He spoke in a low and gravelly tone as if it had been worn down by years of secrecy. “To enter here, you must be wise to speak the words that open skies.”

“with magic might and stars that gleam, I seek the path to realms unseen,” Aedelric replied, steady and sure. The words were ancient, a phrase passed down through generations of those who walked the path of shadows.

“The moon’s embrace and sun’s bright ray, what secret words do you now say?” the gatekeeper continued, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized Aedelric.

“By ancient runes and dragon’s fire, I claim my right to this empire,” Aedelric answered without hesitation, his gaze meeting the gatekeepers without flinching.

The gatekeeper paused, seemingly pondering the truth of Aedelric’s words. Then, with a slow nod, he spoke the final line of the ritual. “The words are true, the path is clear. Welcome, friend, place the seal right here.”

Aedelric produced a silver seal from within his robes, the metal glinting faintly in the dim light. The seal was engraved with cryptic runes, symbols of power that only a select few could decipher. He placed the object in a small opening on the door, and the gatekeeper carefully inspected it, his eyes tracing the intricate patterns with practised ease. Satisfied, he stepped back, allowing Aedelric to enter.

As Aedelric stepped through the doorway, he was met with a narrow staircase that descended into darkness. The air grew colder as he moved deeper into the underground space. The Walls closed around him like the jaws of a great beast. The faint sounds of the city above faded away, replaced by the steady dripping of water and the occasional scurry of unseen creatures.

At the bottom of the staircase, Aedelric found himself in a dimly lit corridor, the walls lined with ancient tapestries and flickering torches. The air was thick with the scent of old wood and something else, something metallic and sharp. It was the smell of blood, faint but unmistakable.

Another figure emerged from the shadows, a man with a lean build and a face that bore the scars of countless battles. His eyes, however, were sharp and alert, taking in every detail of the newcomer. “If it isn’t Aedelric the Wraith himself,” the man said with a wry smile. “The bureau chief did send word that you would be showing your face soon, but I did not expect you this quickly!”

Aedelric disregarded the comment and remained focused on the task at hand. He reached into his robes and produced a list, placing it on the table before the man. “Here’s the list. Make it quick,” he said, his voice as cold and unyielding as the stone walls around them.

“Alright!, Alright, way to kill the small talk,” the man muttered as he took the list. “You need to work on your conversation skills; they might come in handy someday.”

Without warning, Aedelric drew a small knife from a hidden pocket, charging it with a faint glow of mana. In a single fluid motion, he flung the knife at the man, the blade slicing through the air with deadly precision. The target dodged just in time, his eyes widening in shock. “Do that again, and the repair bill’s coming out of your paycheck,” he grumbled. “Anyway, your items are available as usual. They’ll be brought to you shortly.”

The man handed the list to a young boy wearing glasses, standing quietly in the corner. The boy snatched the paper mid-air as it drifted from the Man’s hand, his movements quick and practised.

“While we’re on the subject, got any questions?” the man asked, his tone more cautious now.

“I have none,” Aedelric replied curtly, his expression unreadable.

“Of course, you don’t,” the man scoffed. “As your handler, it’s my job to brief you on current operations. Let’s start with this.”

He unrolled a map and spread it on the table, the parchment crackling softly in the silence. The map was detailed, it showed the entirety of Helvetia and its neighbouring regions. Markings in red ink indicated Key locations, including the Crafter estate and surrounding lands.

“The Crafter Legion, the private army of the Crafter estate, is led by Michael Crafter, the family head,” the Man began, pointing to various locations on the map. “The six major noble families, each governing significant autonomous lands in Helvetia, maintain their private armies. However, this privilege is limited to these six houses, with others requiring a royal decree. This Special arrangement exists partly because of their roles in founding Helvetia.”

He paused, giving Aedelric a moment to absorb the information. “To prevent any one family from using their forces to stage a coup, the maximum size of each private army is capped at 10,000 soldiers. Furthermore, a significant portion of these forces must remain outside Helvetia’s borders, and any deployment back inside requires approval from the other houses and the crown.”

The Man’s finger traced a line along the map, indicating the borders of Helvetia and the surrounding territories. “Like the other noble families, the Crafters employ a unique hierarchy for their forces. The smallest Unit, a squad, consists of ten soldiers led by a captain. Ten squads form a Unit, Commanded by a knight commander, who is promoted from the ranks of squad captains. Ten units combine into a division, overseen by a commander who reports directly to the family head, Who also serves as the general of the entire army.”

He looked up at Aedelric, gauging his reaction. Aedelric’s expression remained impassive, though his eyes were keenly focused on the map.

“At this moment, roughly 7,000 soldiers are deployed across vital outposts and a base camp to secure key trade routes,” the Man continued. “The Crafter Legion maintains thirteen outposts and one base camp, three of which lie between the base and Helvetia’s borders. Each outpost is Guarded by at least 300 men at all times. The base camp rotates 100 soldiers between each outpost, exchanging supplies and relieving those on leave. This cycle continues until the conclusion of the Arcana Trade Festival. Afterwards, the outposts are abandoned, with half the forces returning to Helvetia and the other half remaining to guard the base camp, which stays cut off from Helvetia for the rest of the year.”

The man's voice grew more serious as he spoke, the weight of the information pressing down on the room. “The mission is risky, but I believe you’re capable. Still, I have to remind you. One misstep and the consequences could be dire.”

Aedelric nodded, his mind racing with thoughts regarding his next plan of action. The stakes were high, but he had faced Greater dangers before. He would succeed; failure was not an option.

“Good luck out there, Wraith,” the Man said, rolling up the map and handing it to Aedelric. “You’re going to need it.”

Aedelric took the map, his expression unreadable. “Luck is for the weak,” he replied coldly, turning to leave the room.

As he was about to return through the underground corridors, his mind wandered to the task ahead. The Crafter estate was a fortress, its defences nearly impenetrable. But Aedelric was no ordinary man; he had been trained to infiltrate the most secure locations, to move unseen and strike without warning. He would find a way, just as he always had.

The conversation stretched for hours, and Aedelric's mind was busy planning his next move. The deep thought of Aedelric was broken apart as he heard the boy returning, announcing that the requested items had been arranged. Aedelric broke off the train of thought and began to inventory the items. “It’s all here. I’m off then.”

“Didn’t you hear what I said earlier? Helvetia is far, far away from Serpentonia’s Capital. It will take days.”

The Man rose from his seat and beckoned Aedelric to follow him. They walked through a dimly lit narrow staircase that led to a chamber filled with ancient relics. The Man pointed to one of the relics.

“It’s a shame I can’t tell you what all these beauties can do. Some of them might’ve even caught your eye. But if I did, well… your story would end here. However, the emperor has a special interest in this particular relic for you, so I’ll at least tell you what this one does…”

Before he could continue, a sharp noise echoed from somewhere within the chamber as if something—or someone—had stirred. The Man paused, his eyes narrowing as he tried to discern the source of the disturbance. Aedelrics fists instinctively went to the hilt of his blades.

The chamber seemed to hold its breath, and in that tense silence, the Man offered a cryptic smile. “But then again, some secrets are better left undisclosed, wouldn’t you agree? ”

Above ground, the night deepened, and the moon was hidden behind a thick blanket of clouds. The streets were almost deserted, the few remaining souls hurrying home before more dangerous denizens emerged. Meanwhile, Aedelric and his handler were busy discussing crucial details about the relic.

Sebeth Muller, meanwhile, was charging along a dirt path through the forest. He ordered six of his captains to take their squads and disperse, raising a unit of 100 men from each of the nearest outposts. They were to regroup at the fourth outpost station. Sebeth chose this number carefully—100 men from each post would still leave enough soldiers to patrol the perimeters. Though the supply lines would be stretched thin as long as the current situation was addressed swiftly, the matter could be resolved soon.

As Sebeth Muller's Unit of 40 men headed toward the fourth outpost, he pondered the situation. The recent incident near the mansion had made him wary, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to this than met the eye. The forest around him was eerily quiet, and in that stillness, Sebeth couldn’t help but wonder—was this just the calm before the storm?

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