Lord Armis stepped through the entrance gate once more. He had only scraped the surface of his powers during his retribution this night but it had still been a squander. An unwarranted use of the power he needed so preciously. The fear, however, had been exquisite. He touched on the well of power again, revelling in its depth. He dreamed of plunging himself into it, breathing freely of it instead of drawing on it with such measure and control. Sighing deeply, he released his grip on the power. The time would come.

The front lobby was dark and silent. Dawn was but a few hours away and many of the staff had retired. The guards always remained, the faces changed but the stiff and alert posture never did. They were the greatest guard on the continent, yet he could still crush them with the barest of efforts. A younger man stood through the doors into the grand hallway, waiting patiently for his Lord's return. The man eyed him with respect and a little fear, Armis could see the words forming in the young man's throat though he hadn't the confidence to speak.

"This had better be good, boy."

"A... Apologies, Lord Armis," the boy stammered, "The council have requested your presence."

Requested. That was better. The last time they had demanded his presence it had not ended well for many of his esteemed council members. He looked to the closed door of the sitting room where what remained of the council waited. The flickering light of the fire beneath the door gave the illusion of movement. The fire's light was too weak to affect his shards so he could leave the armour on. It always seemed to spark a deeper respect in the council. The thought of the worldly knowledge they would try to impart on him was frustrating. Why grandfather, in your infinite wisdom, did you decide to give these old fools such high station. Sighing inwardly he stepped toward the room with no further word for the young servant.

The doors swung open on smooth hinges revealing the three elders sat around a crackling fire. They all gave him disapproving looks as he approached and seated himself in his chair. It grated on him that they would dare to challenge him so, only his respect for them and their unquestionable loyalty had kept them alive. His father had once said, "No man should become so drunk with power that he thinks any wisdom proffered is the verbiage of fools." The silence pulled on his nerves as he waited for one of them to start.

"You were reckless this night, Lord Armis," the elderly councilman said. "Had your actions played out differently it could have been the end of the Order." His skin had begun to sag and it had taken on a sickly pallor from too many years without the sun. There were tales of when this man was great. Age makes fools of us all eventually, even the members of the Order.

"By what estimation do you deem them reckless, Councilman? I sit here before you unharmed, my power intact, stronger even. Would you have suggested the Brotherhood of Assassins go unpunished for their intrusion?" He said with unbridled ferocity. The council members were infuriatingly unfazed by him.

"This was something we could have handled with Master Kane, you need not have interfered," the councilman replied.

"Interfered in an attempt at my own life?! You are becoming foolish in your age, old man. If you are what we have left of this Order then we have fallen further than I care to say. You have gotten soft, weak," Armis spat as he jumped from his chair. His instincts pulled at the shards and he found little reason to restrain himself.

"Lord Armis, we only say this as we fear for your life too. Starting a blood feud with the Brotherhood is the last thing we need. You are the last of the Order with the ability until you sire your own children," the elderly councilwoman said from her chair. She had the uncanny ability to placate him, a weakness he would be better to destroy but his father's words still rang true in his mind.

"It is of no consequence, they have no want for war with me. They know I could crush every one of them. They fear me, they see the power I hold," he said to her, his anger receding.

The council members nodded their approval. "After tonight's intrusion, I would suggest that you postpone hiring a new bell-man, Lord Armis," said the elderly councilman.

"A wise suggestion," Lord Armis replied, tensing at the obtuse remark. With no want for further conversation, he rose and began heading to the door. "Rest now elders, dawn soon approaches."

"One final thing my Lord," the third councilman said. Lord Armis turned with a stony glare, his patience wearing thin. "After your excursion, we asked the guards to find you another..." The elderly councilman glanced to his shards with a look of unease.

"Sacrifice. Say it old man, Sacrifice. You have grown weak. My grandfather would have killed you with his own hands," he snarled before walking out of the room, awaiting no further replies. The manor was peaceful as he strode through the hallways. Although unchanged in many years, the simple and elegant decorations still pleased him. Splashes of fervent maroons and purples in fine silk hung in delicate patterns on the walls. The decor became much more drab as he neared the dungeons. They were no place for someone with an eye for sweeping lines and pretty pictures.

Armis swung the cell door open and bathed the haggard, sweating man in soft torchlight. The pungent aroma of cheap alcohol lingered in the air and stung his nostrils. Most of the fight was gone from the drunkard as he sat slumped in a stupor, having been dragged from some god-forsaken cesspit in the village. Lord Armis didn't show it but he was glad the man was out of sorts. There was no enjoyment in harvesting power from these people. Drunks, fools and criminals they may be, but there was no honour in hunting a lame animal. Men deserved to fight for their lives. Times of peace may have appeared wonderful but as a member of the Order, he was deeply aware of what was hidden behind peace's whimsical veil. Without the Order, without his shards and his well-stocked reservoir of power, the peace would be short lived indeed.

He attacked the man swiftly, he wouldn't prolong the pain of the poor fool. Drawing deeply on the man's soul he added power to his well. Another family torn apart under the ruse of a supposed crime or offence.

... And they wonder why the assassins come for me in the night.