Avalyn, the Wielder of Chains, may have dragged him out of Draedona's realm, but the reek of death never left Pertheran. It travelled in his wake like the virulent power of a corrupt God, roiled and twisted like foul smoke rising from burning flesh. It grew so strong, sometimes he would check himself before a mirror, to see whether the sorcery keeping his immortal soul trapped in his corpse was coming undone-- wishing to make sure whether the horrid stench was his own or those he killed.

Another day of offering mortal sacrifices. He did not know whose corpses did the captain and the Royal Sorceress plan to raise in exchange of those sacrifices, but it was not his job to ask questions as such.

Rope-bound bodies lay in macabre rows across the dungeon floor, torchlight dancing in the river of blood which poured from the headless corpses. The stone-hewn altar in the middle of the room stood like a lone sentry amidst the crowd of bodies.

No remorse should grip him, Captain Reylan had said, for the sacrifices were criminals, sentenced to death by the Drisian law, unfortunate enough to be sent to Calbridge rather than to the gallows. Reylan's mercy was worse than a bag covering one's face and a noose tightening around the throat.

✦✧✦✧

"Fascinating what sorcery can do, isn't it?" The Captain always had a look of awe in his eyes when he would look down upon those bloody corpses. "Cleaning filth off this world's face, and creating warriors at their cost? A soul well spent, I say."

Yet how many times had there been people other than criminals at the altar of sacrifice? People who had angered the Captain, the bandits he'd hired to help with commander Karyk's abduction, people who protested when he painted eight of his own soldiers as renegades when the Midaelians accused him of breaching the treaty-- the list went on.

"But why me for this job, of all people? Anyone can offer sacrifices," Pertheran had asked.

True, the captain had loads of other people who could do it. Executioners, torturers, his whole cadre of Vasaeni.

"Anyone can do this job, but not everyone is Pertheran Durinford, am I right? The first Vasaen ever created in centuries, whom I marked with my own hands. Asked the sorceress so I could keep you for myself. That's because you are special. There's always something special about the first one of a kind," the captain told him. "Anyway, how's your little sister doing? Eryna, was it?"

A leaden weight had settled in his stomach. "--Why? Why do you ask?"

A look of hurt crossed Captain's face. "You speak as though I would want to hurt her. I only ask because I have heard that you are trying to get her some proper education...something that is well beyond your wage to afford."

Pertheran nodded. "Aye, sir."

"Should've come to me sooner, then. Well, you have nothing to worry about from now on, for I will take full responsibility for her schooling. She will be sent to the best academy at Glasswolf-- and all expenses will be mine. All you have to do is obey my orders and keep your mouth shut." A pause. A slow smile he knew he could not say no to.

"Can you do it for me, Perth?"

A bribe. He was offering him a bribe and binding him with something stronger than sorcery-- chains of debt. His sister's smiling face swam in her vision.

Would he crush her dreams for mere conscience, when money was so hard to get by?

Bony hands clasped his shoulders tight, the captain's blue-grey gaze boring into his eyes. The amiable look in his eyes had vanished.

"This is not a request, but an alternate option for you to consider," Reylan said, his voice hushed, "the other option is...this."

He waved the ring in front of Perth's eyes.

"You are free to choose."

Of course, anyone could do this job of offering sacrifices-- which was naught but plain manslaughter, but not everyone was Pertheran Durinford, whom he had wrapped around his finger, who would not spill his secrets, who was but a living, breathing weapon for him to use however and whenever he pleased at the snap of a finger.

"I will do it, Captain."

✦✧✦✧

Outside the hidden dungeon, down in the dark bowels of Calbridge Castle, he dipped his blood-soaked hands into a barrel and wiped his face, leaving a ruddy smear across his cheeks.

Boots clicked against flagstone, and a shadow fell across Pertheran's face.

There stood Captain Reylan, dressed in regal, green robes, a lock of silver-blond hair dangling handsomely above his pale brows, hands folded-- hands which had commanded many a deaths, but not a drop of blood tainted them. And Pertheran's were never cleaner than a slaughterhouse floor.

Captain was back from his meeting with King Krugmann. The King had arrived days ago, with the entire company of his most favoured warriors of the land. Upstairs raged a grand feast which had been going on for what seemed like all eternity now. The finest cuisine from around Drisia had been arranged, the upper hallways wafting with the smell of roasted venison and spiced wine. Mead poured from barrels like fountains. Pertheran had heard one of the warriors had downed a whole keg in one go.

Upstairs was a rowdy, drunken mess-- one that Perth was glad to stay away from, however morbid his current job might be.

For someone with a plan to spill royal blood, Captain Reylan looked awfully calm. But then again, he would never do it directly, would he? He'll find someone else to do his dirty work, someone foolish like me.

"Missed me, haven't you?" Captain's pale lips stretched into a perfect smile across his sculpted face.

"You were gone upstairs for barely two bells," Pertheran drawled, splashing more water on his face, "what do you take me for? I've got work to do-- work you so graciously assigned only me to carry out."

The captain's smile did not waver, but his fingers hovered over his magic-imbued ring for a moment.

Pertheran winced. Days down at the dungeon had put him in a mood awful enough to snap at Reylan.

"Marvelous," the captain said, "just the pinch of salt my miserable, tasteless life needs. I'll let this one slide."

Thank you for having some mercy on my wretched soul you dragged back from hell. You are truly divine.

He set off further down the dark hallway in brisk steps. "I wish to speak with my good friend, Karyk. If you would be so kind as to light the way, Perth?"

Grunting, Pertheran grabbed the torch from the nearest sconce and strode after him.

Damp-walled passages and narrow-winding stairs found them before the cells in the other dungeon-- this one full of live prisoners rather than rotting corpses. Voices cried out, pleading and begging as they passed. Captain remained his cheerful self, and Pertheran tried not to listen. At the very end of the passage, was the captive Midaelian officer.

One look at his face, and the captain's smile vanished, as though it had never been there. The way his demeanor would change at the blink of an eye chilled Perth down to his bones. He made a mental note to be careful with his words the next time, no matter how foul his mood might be.

Startling every other captive and Pertheran, Captain Reylan hurled a kick against the bars. The metal rods trembled in their confines in the rough stone.

Mildly taken aback, Commander Karyk edged towards the bars to face him, a numb indifference in his dull eyes.

"Eight of my soldiers haven't returned."

The captive commander looked at the flagstones, bleary-eyed. "That's what happens when you break into enemy territory. Thought you knew. Or are you one of those who actually abide by the treaty and see us as your amicable neighbours?"

"One of those men," said Reylan through gritted teeth, "was a Vasaen. And the fact that he hasn't come back, and the soldiers of Kinallen haven't been slaughtered-- one and all-- leads me to believe that whatever it was Lucian Rodorrman sent you has found its purpose."

Karyk said nothing, yet something like hope seemed to flit across his grizzled features. Unease crawled at the pit of Perth's stomach. What weapon, or sorcerous means was out there, that could take the lives of his kind--his immortal kind? Was it more vicious than Avalyn's Chains? Captain's ring?

The train of his thoughts was shattered the next moment. Reylan clapped, the sound harsh and resounding in Pertheran's weary ears. "Yes, you heard me right. Your soldiers have indeed managed to defeat a Vasaen. This is a feat that must be rejoiced, wouldn't you agree?"

Reylan's pale, thin fingers closed around the bars, eye to eye with the Midaelian. "On this auspicious occasion, I intend to send your kingdom... a gift. Spring Fest is right around the corner, so what better time than this, eh? Ah, Spring Fest. The only day Byton's gates open wide to all, for the rich and the poor, for friends and foes. My men will be more than pleased to deliver the gift by their own, immortal hands."

A gift.

"If your soldiers can handle one, I'd like to see how they fare with more," said the Captain.

So that's what those sacrifices were for.

"Whose...whose corpses are you going to raise?" Pertheran asked before he knew what he was saying. Pertheran was born of a war, and heavens knew there was never a shortage of bodies in a battlefield, nor were there lack of prisoners to offer as sacrifices.

Yet where was the captain going to find fresh corpses now, here in this merry castle which bustled with a grand feast?

Captain Reylan turned to Pertheran, a chilling grin spread across his face. "King Krugmann has such fine warriors at his disposal. But I can make them even better. Immortal. Invincible. Thankfully, His Majesty has agreed to my proposal to ...expand my undefeated army."

Almost immediately after he finished speaking, the many voices from the feast upstairs fell silent. A deafening quiet prevailed for a few tense moments, before chaos ensued.

Dying screams, weapons clanging against armour, furniture being dragged about. The King's most favoured warriors-- his best friends-- were being slaughtered, when they were drunk beyond rational thoughts and mostly unarmed. So that's what all the festivities were about.

A massacre raged on above.

"Oh, thank the Gods for blessing us with such a benevolent king. His Majesty is generous indeed!" said Captain Reylan, hands brought together as though praying, a serene smile on his lips as he looked skyward.

In the dungeon down below, stunned silence ruled. All the other prisoners had fallen silent as well.

"Why...why don't you kill me already? I'm of no use to you," said Commander Karyk at last when the last of the soul-racking screams had died down. Hurried footsteps now sounded above, bodies were being carried out, to be...raised.

"The idea of usefulness differs between you and me, my friend. In terms of providing information, you're absolutely worthless, yes, for I brought you here too early, before you could even know what Rodormann had sent you," Captain Reylan said, "but fear not, I have many other means of making use of a living, breathing human being. Would you be a sacrifice, or would you like to be an immortal warrior and fight for me? The choice couldn't be easier."

But for Pertheran, it was anything but. This man, who stood on the other side of the bars had once tried to save his life even though there had been no hope, had shown him the mercy of a quick death when a deadly poison clawed at his limbs.

He could not sacrifice his soul, nor could he let him become one of them.

For a moment, something fierce flickered in the eyes of Commander Karyk. "Do whatever you will-- chop my head off, raise me by your necromancy, but this foul sorcery will be your fall!" he snarled, "Midaelian blood in your veins, and you lick the boots of these Drisians. You may rule an undefeated army, but you are lower than a mongrel from the streets--"

"Shut the old dog up, will you, Perth?" Captain Reylan had noticed the uncertainty in Pertheran's eyes, and he intended to crush it. No guard should feel compassion for their captives.

He hesitated.

"Of course, even when I'm bound in chains you don't have the guts to deal with me directly!" cried their Midaelian captive.

Pertheran wished Commander Karyk would shut up by himself, so that he wouldn't have to do it. Shut up, old man, if you know what's good for you!

"Can you hear me, Private Pertheran Durinford?" A vein stood taut on Reylan's forehead. "I am speaking to you, lad!"

When he still made no move, the captain clasped his silver ring. "Very well. You leave me no other choice."

His breath hitched in his throat.

Black blood spurted from Pertheran's chest. The agony threw him back on the muddy shores again, with poison in his veins and an arrow lodged in his heart. Pain rattled his bones-- yet he would not die. Around him the dungeon was spinning, the stone floor was swaying like the sea, Commander Karyk still went on shouting--

A moment of silence, spent in fumbling for the keys at his belt.

Forgive me, if you can.

Captain Reylan sent another jolt of pain through him when he took too long to unlock the door. "Hurry up!"

With a vicious kick, Pertheran slammed the cell-door open, and grabbed Commander Karyk by the neck, pain still hammering through his ears. Starved and weakened, the Midaelian's struggles were nothing compared to his bestial rage now.

"Mind your tongue when you're speaking to the Captain!" shouted Pertheran, taking old Commander Karyk by the collars. "Is that understood?"

A punch. Knuckles slamming against jaws.

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

A shove. Feeble shoulders hitting stone walls.

I'm only a monster bound on a leash.

A final hit. Blood trickling from a bruised nose.

I must do as my masters command.

When he locked the cell up again, the captain rested a gentle hand on his shoulder. Pertheran flinched away from his touch.

"Good work, Perth," he said, seemingly oblivious to Pertheran's aversion, "if only I had to use the ring less often. You may not realize it, but it deeply pains me every time I do so."

But Pertheran wasn't listening. His focus remained upon the slumped body in the cell and the bundle of keys at his own belt.

I'm sorry, old man.

Commander Karyk would not become a sacrifice, nor a Vasaen.

Pertheran was getting him out of here, if only to lessen his own burden of sin.