Vigil's Valor: 45 – The Revelation

Kerra looked at me with confusion painted across her face but nodded as I escorted her from the ballroom while everyone continued to cheer over the death and dismemberment of the Chaos Aberration. It was easy to understand why everyone was so overjoyed—from the outside, it looked like the nightmare was over. Ding dog the witch is dead. Time to bust out the champagne.

Except I knew better.

The Treatise on the Fell Creatures of Oblivion had been clear—the only way to destroy a conjured Aberration was to either banish it or kill the person responsible for summoning it. That thing wasn’t dead but someone wanted everyone to think it was. What I’d just witnessed in the ballroom was nothing more than an elaborate act designed to sucker people—to misdirect them from seeing what was really going on. This whole ploy had never been about starting a civil war, it was about preventing one.

About maintaining the status quo.

The assholes responsible for these attacks didn’t want to kill the Heir Apparent, they wanted to control him. They wanted to turn him into a puppet who would say what he was supposed to say, smile when he was supposed to smile, and dance when his masters told him to dance. And they’d pulled their plan off masterfully.

The only question now was, were we too late to stop them?

“What the hell is going on?” Kerra hissed at me as we threaded our way through the immaculate flower garden. “We should be in there celebrating. The Aberration is dead. The Citadel is back in the good graces of the soon-to-be King of Wildespell. This is all good news.”

“If the Aberration is really dead and gone, then why didn’t my Bounty disappear?” I asked as we hustled beneath the portcullis and out from under the curtain wall. The second we were clear of the gates, I triggered Armor Evocation and swapped out the wildly impractical formal wear for my cobalt scale mail, then I broke into a run and darted onto the nearest connecting street with Kerra and Cal in tow.

“I don’t understand,” she said, sounding angrier and more confused by the second.

“Yeah, but I finally do. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. It all fits. Every little piece. But we can’t talk about this here. Not out in the open. Anyone could be watching. Or listening. We need to get to someplace safe where we can figure out how to unfuck this mess.”

Kerra seemed annoyed by how secretive I was being, but she didn’t push it, which I was thankful for. “What about my private quarters in the Citadel?” she offered.

I grunted and shook my head. “Nope. The Citadel’s the last place we want to be right now. We need to get out of the city or…” I faltered as another thought occurred to me. “Or somewhere no one will ever come poking around. I might know where we can keep low, but you’re not going to like it.”

“As long as I get some answers,” she said, “I don’t care where we go…”

***

“I take it back,” Kerra said as I ushered her up steps of the Drunken Crow in the Sprawl. “I very much care where we go. And why on earth would we want to go here of all places?”

“Because they’re thieves, so I’m guessing they know how to hide people who don’t want to be found, and right now we need to disappear. Besides, they’re the only ones I’m sure aren’t involved.”

“Let me see if I understand this correctly.” Kerra spoke slowly, as though explaining something to a five-year-old. “Instead of going to the Citadel, home of the Vigilant—defenders of Justice, Valor, Balance, Wrath, and Truth—you want to seek a deal with the cutthroats and thugs of the Society of Vicious Whispers because they are more trustworthy. Do I have that right?”

“Got it in one,” I said, thumping on the door with my closed fist. “These people might not be pillars of moral virtue, but they have a brotherhood of their own just the same as we do, and Akser was one of their men. I’m betting they’ll help us if it means getting a little payback.”

“And if they aren’t interested in revenge?” she asked.

“Then I’ll give them the one thing every thief wants. A shit ton of money.”

The door creaked open and Bramin stepped out looking like a pissed off gorilla.

“I didn’t believe the doorman when he said there were two Vigils darkening our stoop. Thought maybe he was drunk. That or having a bit of a laugh at my expense. But lo and behold, my eyes see true.” He leaned over and spit onto the muddy street. “Two Vigils, and one of ’ems dressed fancy enough to attend a royal ball.” He openly eyed Kerra’s cleavage. “You’ve got a lot of guts knocking on our door. Showing your faces ’round here after that shite you pulled.”

“You’ve got a lot of guts answering the door, after the ass beating I gave you,” I replied with a grin.

For a moment he just stood there, his face a thundercloud. Then a grin cracked his ugly mug like a beam of sunlight breaking through a storm. “You’re a right cheeky bastard, you are. Now what do you want, eh? I’ve got better ways to spend my time then sniping with a couple of self-righteous birds like you.”

“I don’t think you do,” I said. “I think you’re going to want to hear what we have to say, but first I need a favor. We need a place to keep low for a little while.”

His eyes narrowed and his forehead scrunched as he looked me up in down. “I don’t know what kind of trouble could send two Vigils running to the Society, but I’m not sure I want any part in it.”

“We can make it worth your time,” I said. I reached over and nudged Kerra with my elbow. “Can’t we, Kerra?” I asked, shooting her a sidelong glance.

Her lips pressed into a thin, unamused line. Begrudgingly, she fished out a leather coin sack, filled with golden crowns. “As a down payment for services rendered,” she said, pressing it into his meaty palm.

Bramin weighed the bag for a moment, then nodded and disappeared the leather pouch with a flourish. “Alright, come on then.” He pushed the door open and waved us into the vacant, rundown interior.

Instead of leading us to the staircase that descended into the sprawling bar and gambling den below, he guided us to another vacant room—this one empty save for a series of barren bookcases lining the far wall. Fat fingers reached beneath a shelf. There was a faint clickand then the whole case swung open like a door, revealing a second, hidden set of stairs.

“This isn’t our first time evading capture,” he said, in explanation, “you’ll be as safe down there as you will anywhere else in Wildespell.”

“How do we know you won’t sell us out?” Kerra asked, regarding the darkened steps with cool suspicion.

“You might not have a very high opinion of us,” he replied, “but I’ve accepted your money. Taken the job. No one would ever hire us or our services again if they thought we’d just turn ’em over to the next highest bidder. We might be mercenaries and cutthroats, but we have our code, same as you. Same as any other trade. Now go. Make yourself at ease. I’ll fetch Stefana and we’ll be with you shortly.”

The stairs connected to a well-appointed private room with a fully stocked bar, a leather lounger, a small cot, and a table with a set of cards sitting out. It was the perfect place to bunker down if you were on the lam.

“Now, are you going to tell me what is going on?” Kerra asked, rounding on me the second we were finally alone.

“Yeah, but you’re probably going to want a drink first because this is going to be a hard pill to swallow.” I slipped behind the bar and grabbed a bottle filled with something amber and delicious. I plopped a pair of glasses down on the bar top, poured each of us a generous helping, then proceeded to shoot mine in a single swallow. It burned going down my throat and landed with a splash of comforting heat in my belly. Bourbon. Top shelf, too.

“Let’s start with the basics,” I said, pouring myself another three fingers. “I think we can all agree that the Aberration wasn’t acting alone. Someone summoned that nightmare and was using it as a weapon to accomplish some sort of border agenda. When Dogan the Shieldbreaker figured out what that agenda was, they killed him and left behind that Wil-O-Wisp as a trap in the Etheric Realm in case anyone else came sniffing around for inconvenient answers.”

“Fine,” Kerra said, folding her arms and leaving her drink untouched. “I will agree that the evidence seems to support that line of thinking.”

“Thing was, up until now, we didn’t know what their real goal was,” I continued. “From the outside, it all looked random. For a while I thought maybe an operative from the Virtarun Empire was pulling the strings. Kerra, you told me that succession in Wildespell passes from farther to son, and that whoever inherits the throne has to be a blood heir. Since the prince doesn’t have a blood heir, if something were to happen to both him and the king, then the Virtaruns would have the legal authority to lay a claim to Wildespell. That’s a damn good motive to commit a little regicide.”

“I agree completely,” Kerra said. “They are the obvious suspect. Which begs the question, if this really was about royal succession and the goal was to remove Andreas, why stop now?”

“Because it wasn’t the Virtaruns and the goal was never to remove him from the throne. It was to control the throne through him. Cal,” I said, turning on the specter, “did the prince look familiar to you?”

Cal frowned and regarded me from the couch. He cocked his head to one side and drummed his fingers on the armrest. “Now that you mention it, yeah. But hell if I can remember where we would’ve seen him before. We don’t exactly run in the same circles.”

“That’s exactly what I thought, too. His face was so familiar, but I couldn’t place him—not until I remembered something Lady Hargreeves told me while she was trying to get into my pants. She said half the nobles in Wildespell visit Tiers of Delight.”

There was a long, quiet pause and then I saw it click in Cal’s head, too. His eyes widened in shock and his jaw dropped.

“The guy in the fucking top hat,” he said.

“The guy in the fucking top hat,” I agreed.

“Wait a second, do you really expect me to believe that you two saw Prince Andres, Heir Apparent of Wildespell, outside of a brothel while a monster was roaming the streets actively hunting him?”

Cal shrugged. “Guys don’t always make good choices when sex is involved. When Boyd and I first got to the Fleet, there was another Marine with us who went out and married a stripper named Chiffon the first week he was in Oceanside. Then the dumb bastard immediately gave her power of attorney to ‘help with the bills’ while he was in the field. Lady cleaned him out inside a month and ran up fifty thousand dollars’ worth of credit card debt in his name.”

“I suppose the general stupidity of men is indeed a fair point,” Kerra conceded.

“Neither of you are wrong, but this wasn’t just about sex,” I said. “I think he was visiting Tiers of Delight for exactly the same reasons we were.”

“Delicious baked goods?” Cal asked.

“No, you dingus. He trying to figure out what happened to the missing kid.”

Kerra’s brow furrowed in bewilderment. “Why would the prince of Wildespelll spare two thoughts to the son of a prostitute?”

“Because that kid is his son,” I said. “Terrwyn showed us a picture of her kid. He had the same nose, the same wavy black hair, the same jawline. If the prince isn’t that kid’s father, I’ll eat a flipflop. And that means the prince had an heir after all.”

“No,” Kerra said, shaking her head. “That can’t be possible. If that was true, why would he keep him hidden all these years?”

“Because Prince Andreas is married to the third daughter of the Kelkadian Queen and, like you said, the kid is the illegitimate son of a prostitute. That’s a bad look for the future king and could’ve hurt him politically. Hell it could’ve started a war on its own if it ever came to light. But the prince couldn’t afford to just get rid of the kid either. If push came to shove, it was better to have a bastard son then no heir at all. So instead, the prince left him right where he was, hiding in plain sight, but he also made sure the kid was taken care of and educated.

“You think Dogan was acting as the kid’s caretaker?” Cal asked.

“I sure as shit do. And I think he kept it from the Citadel.”

“He would never,” Kerra vehemently protested. “Dogan was the Justiciar of Seekers, he wouldn’t dream of keeping something so important from the Custodians.”

“Unless he didn’t trust them,” I countered. “Remember, Dogan cut his teeth by hunting down rogue warlocks and corrupt politicians. What if he discovered something that him lead him to believe there was corruption inside the Citadel, too? Like, maybe, the Order of Immolation—a radical cult that advocates for a Vigil-run theocracy? A cult that’s been operating openly inside the Citadel for years. A cult that would’ve used a kid like that as leverage against the crown.”

“Are you implying that these killings are the work of Vigils?” she asked, her cheeks flush, anger undercutting her words.

“I’m not implying anything. I’m saying it outright. And not just any Vigils. It’s Telent and his team. Amherst is the one summoning the Aberration.”

Kerra looked momentarily thunderstruck. “But that’s… Why would they…”

“Because they’re all members of the Order of Immolation,” I said slowly. “Telent mentioned it offhandedly back when you first arrested me. He said that Amherst didn’t talk because he’d taken a vow of silence. Said it was one of the rights of Amherst’s sect, the Order of Immolation. But that gabby Arbitrator, Nazer Maux, sure didn’t have a problem running his mouth. Which begs the question, why doesn’t Amherst talk? In order to conjure and bind a Chaos Aberration, the summoner has to make a sacrifice of flesh and spirit. What if Amherst cut out his tongue as his offering?”

Kerra stumbled and sat down on a stool. Then she upended her glass, chugging the shot in a single long gulp.

“Another,” she said, slamming the glass down on the counter.

As I poured, she spoke. “You honestly believe Vigils would do all of this just to kidnap the prince’s illegitimate heir? That’s…” she faltered.

“Crazy?” I finished. “If you have a better explanation, I’d love to hear it.”

Her silence spoke volumes.

“Even if I believed you,” she said after a beat, “which I’m not saying I do, why all of the other murders? I suppose killing the royal advisor makes a certain amount of sense. If they were hoping to send a message to the prince that was certainly a good way to do it. But why Akser Erdemir? And why kill all of those royal guards if they had no intention of eliminating the prince in the first place?”

“Easy,” I said. “Dogan had been keeping tabs on the kid for years. Making sure he was safe, but also off the radar. He did a damned good job, right up until Akser found out. Terrwyn told us that Akser saw Dogan coming out of Tiers of Delight. Akser started digging, because that’s what an information broker does, and it didn’t take him long to put two and two together. I’m betting that jackass even went to someone at the Citadel, thinking he’d get a fat paycheck for the juicy tidbit.”

“And instead,” Cal said solemnly, “they slit his throat and made it look like a random Mortka attack.”

“When Dogan figured out what they were doing,” I added, “they put him down before he could get in the way. Plain and simple. As for attacking the guards, that was all sleight of hand. Misdirection. They made it look like the prince was the target, but the royal guards were the real target all along. They’re responsible for protecting the entire royal family—including the king. That attack was a slaughter. It decimated their ranks. With so many of them dead, they probably shifted the remainder of their forces away from the king and toward the prince, since they assumed he was in danger. It’s what any competent, short-staffed military unit would do.”

“Which left the king vulnerable.” Kerra whispered the words as if afraid that saying them any louder would make them somehow more real.

“Let me ask you,” I said, leaning forward, “do you really think it was a coincidence that the king died just in time for the Heir Apparent to make his announcement while every lord, lady, and delegate happened to be in his ballroom? And I’m sure it was another big coincidence that Telent and his team happened to kill the Aberration just in the nick of time to present its head to those same nobles and delegates? Then, just like that”—I snapped my fingers—“the prince is singing the praises of the Citadels?” I looked at Cal. “What did our XO always use to say about coincidences?”

“Once is chance, twice is coincidence, the third time is a pattern,” he replied.

“This is a pattern,” I said. “Taking out the guards and disposing of the king was all about getting their ducks in a row. Making sure everything was wrapped up all nice and neat. Now, the Aberration is gone, the prince is on the throne, and he is perfectly compliant because they have his son. There are no loose ends and it all happened so fast no one had any time to ask questions. Where I’m from, that’s called burying the lead.”

“Yeah, and if the prince doesn’t play nice and do what they say, they can just replace him with a younger, more compliant king,” Cal said.

“Not just a more compliant king,” I added, “an underage kid, who was damn near raised by one of the Vigilant.”

“I think I’m going to be sick.” Kerra bent over and placed her hands on her knees. I’d seen her uncomfortable, but I’d never seen her truly rattled. “So what do we do now?”

“What can we do?” Cal asked. “They’ve already won.”

“No they goddamned haven’t,” I growled. “We can still make sure every one of the assholes responsible gets what’s coming to ’em.”

“We could go to the Custodians,” Kerra suggested, desperately attempting to regain her composure.

“No way,” I said, shaking my head. “I doubt they’re all in on it, but there’s no way Telent and his team were acting alone. They had to have at least one other high-level accomplice to pull this off and because we don’t know how big the Order of Immolation is, there’s no telling who else is working with them. We can’t risk saying anything. Besides, it’s not like the Custodians would believe us anyway. All we have is circumstantial evidence and a bunch of wild theories that we can’t prove.”

“The one person who could back any of this up was Dogan,” Cal said, “and they killed him, so we’re shit out of luck there.”

“I’m pretty sure that was intentional,” I replied. “But you’re wrong—there is one other person besides Dogan that can prove us right.” Getting to him, however, was going to be even more dangerous than using myself as kraken bait. “We need to find that missing kid and we need to get a confession. I think I might have an idea how to do both of those things, but we’re not going to be able to do it alone…"

“But you just said we couldn’t trust anyone,” Kerra protested.

“Wrong. I said we couldn’t go the Custodians, but there are a few people I trust. People that I know aren’t in on it…”

I began to rattle off the list of names, checking them off on my fingers.

Her face grew paler with every single addition.

“Those are the people you want to recruit?” she said in disbelief. “Those are the people you’re going to trust to help you root out an insidious corruption inside the ranks of the Vigilant?”

“Hey, you’re the one who taught me that sometimes a mission is too big for any one Vigil to handle on their own,” I replied with a shrug. “I’m just following your advice here.”

“Boyd, a full third of these people aren’t Vigils at all,” she said. “Several are criminals, one is a cat, another is a stable hand, and the Vigils you picked are hardly any better.”

I shrugged one shoulder. “Sometimes you just gotta work with the tools you have available. These are the tools, and we’re going to need all of them to pull this off…”

“This is now officially your worst idea to date,” she said. “We’re all going to die.”

“Probably,” I agreed, “but we won’t go out quietly. You in?”

“Do you know what it means to be a Vigil of Valor, Boyd?” she asked. “Some people believe it’s just a set of skills or spells, but it’s not. Being a Vigil of Valor is a mindset. It means showing great courage not only in battle but in life. It is to be intrepid and bold, even in the face of certain death. What we are planning, is the heart of Valor. What kind of Vigil would I be if I said no?”