Think Tank
Once again, the Profane had gathered in physical and smoke form.
"So, the invasion was a complete disaster," a woman with white hair said coldly.
"On the contrary, it was a great success," said Scyler.
"Our army was reduced to ash, and Colbrand is untouchable. How is that a success?" a tall, lanky ghoul hissed.
"It was a mob of lowly pawns, controlled by Kaisen, not an elite or powerful force. They were our most expendable asset, and with their destruction, we gained priceless intel. We know that Colbrand is once again under the protection of an angel. Better we learn that now rather than throwing everything we have at them and getting annihilated. Besides, we've driven the forces of Uther out of Handent. We now have free reign."
"Yet I am still denied my prize." The bitter words were spoken by a human in smoke form, with long hair and a scar over his eye.
"Quit your belly aching, Liege," growled a dwarf ghoul with a braided black beard.
"I was promised the destruction of Colbrand, and you failed to deliver."
"You didn't tell us the Wassengel was functional," said the white-haired woman. "Had we gambled everything on your mediocre information, we'd have been killed. The failure is yours, and if you don't want to pay the price of failure with your life, I suggest you do everything you can to remain useful to us."
"The return of the Wassengel may actually be a stroke of luck," said Scyler. "It follows the command of those with royal blood, correct? Now that we have the prince, it's quite possible for us to take it for ourselves and use it. Colbrand lies in shooting range of the angel. How ironic would it be for their greatest weapon, their greatest protection, to be their undoing?"
"Let us not grow complacent with hope," said Tysinger, standing among the smoke forms. "The fact that Kaisen was defeated gives pause for concern. As a Profane, he should have been unbeatable, even if he hadn't fully healed from the operation. Carthace and Kaisen, we've lost two of our strongest members to the Wandering Spirit and his allies."
"In time, we'll be able to replace them. My creations grow stronger and more refined with each passing day," said Curcio.
"That's not the point. All this time, we've avoided striking at Uther out of fear of Adwith Tarnas, but I believe we should consider the Wandering Spirit to be our main concern."
"Don't tell me you're losing your nerve because of some human," a split-jawed ghoul taunted.
"He is no ordinary human. He bested our troops before, and I'm sure he will again. The longer we let him live, the greater the danger he poses."
"He makes an interesting point," said the one succubus of the group. "My Duska went out against my orders and tried to kill him. She returned, having narrowly escaped death, but with a broken spirit. She refuses to speak of what happened to her."
"What about that woman, the one who killed the king?" Curcio asked. "She had some kind of relationship with the Wandering Spirit. Any luck in finding her? Has she tried to make contact?"
All the Profane shook their heads and refuted the hope.
"She may be one of us by blood, but we shouldn't rely on her to carry our ideals," said Scyler. "Still, she's already proven useful to us once. She may do so again. Though she forced us to rush our plans, she succeeded in killing the king for us and setting things in motion. Now that the humans have retreated back to Uther, we have room to breathe. Let's use this time to further bolster our military might. Soon, not even the Wandering Spirit will be able to stop us."
The meeting was adjourned, and the smoke effigies were dispersed. The Liege stood, surrounded by mirrors, moments ago showing the Profane leaders and now just sporting his reflection. He turned around and opened the door behind him. It was a false wall in the back of his closet, and he stepped out into his private chambers in the palace. Outside, sunlight filled the streets of Colbrand, and he winced from the brightness. Fortunately, he was human; otherwise, his eyes would be smoldering.
There was a knock on the door. "Lord Strauss, I have those documents you requested."
Strauss sighed and straightened his robes. Life was difficult, but a double life was exhausting.
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The Knight's Sheath had hit its late-morning lull. Everyone who spent the night had woken up and left, and it wasn't yet time to chase down lunch with a drink. The parlor was mostly empty, save for a few customers drinking and reading. Thanks to Sophia and Cyrilo's literature program, there were now vast shelves of books to choose from. But though things were peaceful, they weren't exactly quiet. A repeating sound echoed from the basement, like the striking of a hammer.
The source of the noise was Alexis, unleashing all of her strength on a punching bag hanging from the ceiling. Daniel had described their design and use, and she made one herself, now finding herself near addicted. Again and again, she punched and kicked the sand-filled bag, wondering how she had ever trained without one. Daniel also told her about the unique clothing used by modern athletes at the gym, the soft and stretchy fabrics, and she decided to imitate them. She wore a sports bra and tight-fitting pants with threads of alchemically-created rubber woven into the fabric. It was no spandex, but she loved it.
Every day, during her break periods, she would come down here and exhaust herself, beating the canvas bag and thickening the air with her evaporated sweat as countless drops ran down her slender frame. In the modern world, people would look at her and expect her to model on a runway, but she would be more at home in an MMA ring.
Yet, though she could drain all of her stamina, her frustration was inexhaustible, no matter how much she vented it on the canvas target. Just upstairs, in the parlor where people would come to drink and relax every evening, countless men and women, her fellow knights, had been slaughtered by Bella. Customers and working girls walked on floorboards drenched in blood and painstakingly cleaned. That night, her pride was crushed, with every hard-won victory in her life dismissed by the unholy power Bella wielded.
Against such an unstoppable foe, she was reminded of just how weak she truly was, and the limits of her human body. Endurance that shrugged off all wounds, strength that knocked back all opponents, speed that left all pursuers in the dust; how was she supposed to compete with that? Even Sir Aithorn, one of the greatest warriors in the kingdom, whom she had come to respect and admire, was left vanquished. She punched and kicked the bag with all of her strength, ever striving to improve herself and become a better fighter, but all she could think of was Bella or another mighty Profane receiving her attacks and just laughing her off before ripping her in half.
Having used up all her strength, she leaned against the bag, gasping for air and drenched in sweat. That was enough for one day. She changed out of her workout clothes, her hands trembling from the adrenaline as she unwrapped the bandages earlier applied. After cleaning herself off with a bucket of water and a washcloth, she adorned her usual work attire and headed upstairs. She found Lucius behind the bar, passing the time with a book. Everyone in the Knight's Sheath was reading these days.
"Did I miss anything?" she asked.
"You know that dragon that was spotted yesterday? He came in and asked for the girl with the biggest tits, then left without paying for his drinks." Alexis laughed, and Lucius closed his book. "You hold down the fort, I got an errand to run."
"Leave it to me."
She took his place behind the counter, and with no one to tend to, she opened her own book to read until the afternoon rush came. After a few pages, she heard the front door open, and Melinda greeted the customer. In stepped a man she had never seen before. He was garbed in a leather coat and a wide-brimmed hat, with a gold knight's emblem hanging from his neck and a matching sword on his hip.
"Welcome to the Knight's Sheath. What can I get you?"
"I'll have a glass of Knight's Ambrosia, please," the man said with a smile as he sat at the bar.
"Coming right up."
As she poured the drink, he looked around. "It's been a while since I was here last. When did Cyrilo get all these books?"
"It's part of a literature program she's running, using alchemy to mass-produce texts from the raw materials."
"Ooh, very interesting." The man raised his glass, and Alexis watched him drink. There was something about him, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. Did she know him from somewhere? He emptied his glass with a sigh of bliss. "Always delicious. You can't even taste the alcohol. You know, I remember the old place, so quaint and rustic in comparison."
