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Long breath. Hold. Exhale.
A reedy, broken gurgle drifted up from the floor, ended with a sharp snap as Gladius jammed the butt of his spear into the base of the mage's neck with a practiced motion. He didn't bother to look down, dragging the bloody end against the man's robes to clean off the worst of the viscera as he stepped over the body. Behind him, the villa's hallway stretched out into the kind of silence you get when violent death spreads over a building like a wildfire.
"Bar the door, you oaf! With your body if you have to! We can't take any chances."
A large set of double doors confronted Gladius at the end of the hallway. Beautiful wood inlay, with a design of flowers and herbs around the edges in delicate gilt. A breezy courtyard with a uninterrupted view of the Nocen Sea, plush couches and resting spaces, and hallways leading to the family's quarters awaited on the other side. Space to entertain close friends and family with food, music, and the kind of view that the ambitious strive to achieve over a lifetime of lifetimes.
Breathe. Hold. Exhale.
Blood had followed his path as a miasma of fetid iron, carved in the flesh of murderers and sycophants. It stained his hair, face, spear, shield and his armor in crimson and black, running in streaks as it mixed with his sweat. Confronted with this end to his steps, all he could smell now was the salt air carried on the night breeze. Heartbeat pounding in his ears, he couldn't recall the melody of the song Auralia had sung here just a few short weeks ago. Beautiful, bittersweet. It was gone with her, her lover, and her family, the latest set of burnt offerings to the delusion of greater Empire.
"Quiet! I think I hear something!"
Except for him.
Gladius leaned back, leveraging his spear and shield for balance, and kicked his foot onto the door at the latch as hard as possible. He was rewarded with a sharp crack as the lock gave way and a large portion of the door flew inwards with a sickening crunch against whoever had been standing in front of it. His knee screamed in protest, but was drowned out by the shriek of pain from a short blonde man further in the room as the door knob hit him right in the side of the face and he collapsed in a writhing heap.
"I'm sorry," Gladius looked down at an older elven man who was cowering in remains of the doorway. His voice was calm, but rasped with an undertone of the towering rage he had bellowed through a pile of corpses to reach this part of the house. The man nursed his shoulder and looked up at him with undisguised terror.
Ilten. That was his name. He made seed cakes each spring.
"The others are leaving from the lower garden. There will be help," Gladius sighed, hoping that wasn't a lie. His contact had sworn they would get the servants and slaves somewhere safe. Somewhere better than this. "Sennas isn't your problem any more, Ilten."
Indecision reflected his bloodied form in the man's eyes for a long moment, but eventually Ilten gave a shaky nod and started to rise. Gladius stepped aside, focusing his gaze on the man still groaning in pain on the mosaic floor. Lanky, mid-length hair hung around his face, slicked down with sweat. Green eyes flashed fear and annoyance, while a fresh bruise bloomed on his cheek where the heavy doorknob had struck. The bone underneath was probably broken. His robes were fine, but disheveled, as if thrown on in haste without much care to appearance. No shoes or sandals.
Breathe. Exhale.
A few measured strides brought his boot to jam against his left knee, pinning it to the floor with a pop. Dislocated. As the man screamed in pain, he angled his shield down so that the notch aligned with the upper part of his left arm and buried the points in the floor, effectively pinning him in place. Thrashing and screaming continued for a moment, then died down as shock began to set in.
"Sennas," Gladius leaned over, a bloody bead of sweat dripping down from his face onto the man. "It's been a long time since we've had a chat. You should have known I'd come."
"You're going to die for this!" Sennas shrieked, shaking his head. His skin was pale and clammy, and even with everything else, Gladius caught the stench of drink rolling off of him as he thrashed. "The rest of the guards will be—"
"Twenty seven."
"—here.. what?" Sennas cut off mid screech with a look of true confusion. He never had been particularly bright.
"You had twenty seven guards. Five mages, only one truly competent. One battle master, real military experience. He gave me the most trouble," Gladius gestured to the small knife still lodged in his side. He wasn't sure what would happen when it was finally removed, but it didn't feel like it had struck anything he needed to tend to right now. The pain had stopped some time ago, which a voice at the back of his head told him should be concerning, but that was a problem for the future if he had one.
"Im—impossible!" The man actually whined. As if tragedy and violence couldn't pay him a personal visit. He'd certainly invited them into the homes of others. Into his own.
A brief play of magic danced across Senna's fingertips, but Gladius was faster, the blade of his spear piercing through his palm and straight into the floor. He straightened up and drew his sword as Senna cursed incoherently, taking his boot off of the man's knee. Arms fixed to the floor, Senna reminded him of an inferior moth or butterfly, color and shape distorted by a collector as they sought to display him in death.
"I think that's enough of that."
"You can't command my kind, Soporati," Sennas sneered. "We will always be your betters."
"What? Second rate mages who slaughter their families when they can't make a name for themselves?" Gladius shrugged dismissively and saw a gratifying glint of anger in Senna's eyes in response. "You may not have graduated from the Circle with any kind of honors, and you sure as shit didn't kill your family without help from people with actual talent, but I think even you can manage to die horribly if I stab you enough."
"You wouldn't end our whole family line. You wouldn't dare."
"I don't need to. You did that with yourself with your shitty cultist friends," Gladius slashed his sword across Senna's thigh, the blood arcing out towards the wall, enjoying the hiss of frustration. His eyes didn't follow the spray, but there should still be a painting of the family just out of reach. Senna, his parents, and his older sister Auralia. Smiling. Gladius sat in the corner eating fruit and making her laugh the whole time they sat for the sketch. He wasn't ready to see if this excrement of a man had it removed.
"I'm just ensuring you make it to your cremation on time."
"What are you wait—" Senna cut off in a half hiss, as Gladius sliced a cut through his calf, ending in a growl that had a bit of a resonant edge to it. Almost there. "Kill me already, you coward. If you even can."
"Blood loss will take you soon enough, as it did your sister," a stab through the meat of Senna's other thigh and Gladius felt a cold calm spread through his belly. Possibly more than that if he wanted to be honest. "If I truly had no soul, I could try to replicate what your friends did to Ireia instead. The Templars said she had lost most of her skin by the time she finally bled out."
"That … knife-eared dog defiled my sister."
Actual foam flecked the side of Senna's mouth as the sound distorted strangely, carrying an echo of something not quite human. Gladius smiled as he crouched down over him to get as close as possible, slowly pressing the point of his sword into the soft underside of the chin with a small trickle of blood. He braced his hand against the shield still embedded in the floor. Senna's eyes flicked wildly around as he looked desperately for any way to save himself. The barest flashes of purple light licked out around the edges. Pressing to get out.
"No," the sword pushed a little further, blood staring to run off of the blade and down Senna's throat. "Ireia brought light, love, and music into this house. Magister Ennias and your father were both mages of the highest quality, and your sister.. Auralia had already surpassed them."
Sennas fumed, his face growing red with anger and fear. Gladius pressed again, the blood flowing freely. The man's eyes rolled even more frantically and he began to kick his feet ineffectually. He was so close. Just one more shove.
"Your only additions to your family's legacy were made each time you took a shit in the privy."
"LIAR!" Senna's face distorted and began to glow as a voice that wasn't his own ripped out into the air.
A burst of crackling static and ozone blasted Gladius backwards like he'd been hit by a battering ram. He grabbed at the shield as he lifted off of his feet, barely managing to drag it with him as he hurtled towards the main doors. Landing on his back, he grimaced as the knife in his side shifted with a painful wrench, but he didn't have time to investigate. A blast of lighting followed the first, and he barely got his shield in place in time to block some of it.
In the place Senna had lain, a Pride demon stood to its full height and stretched its arms outwards. Lightning crackled across its form as it turned its eyes on Gladius as he regained his feet, flashing a grin with an impossible number of teeth. A jagged line of pain along his right arm traced the part of the bolt he couldn't block, and he knew he only had a few good swings before it would be useless.
You've spoiled my meal, warrior.
Another blast ripped out and he barely dodged, rolling in front of a small divan that exploded in a rain of fabric, splinters and feathers. White fluff swirled around the room, igniting wherever the halo of static from the demon extended. It wasn't moving, and Gladius knew the demon was toying with him. He'd fought a few of them on the battlefield before, but only a fool faced them alone.
"Did it hurt?" rolling into range, Gladius caught the demon on the side of its calf, sending a shock of pain up his shoulder. He rolled on his shield just ahead of a broad swipe from an immense clawed hand.
Not as deliciously as it could have. His death could have lasted months and carried me to endless shores.
"And killed countless others," his next strike went wide, and Gladius found himself narrowly avoiding a pile of fabric on the floor as he recovered his balance. Passing by he realized it was the remains of the robe Sennas had been wearing. Auralia would have probably been disappointed with how much lighter that made his heart, but her brother had made sure she wasn't there to pass judgment.
Maker willing, he'd get to apologize to her for it soon if the pain in his side was any indication. Might as well make the most of what he had left.
Gladius threw his shield, angling it to catch the demon under the chin and followed swiftly behind with his sword, leaping to plunge it as high into its chest as possible. The smell of burnt hair and ozone ran along his skin and through his bones as he held on with both hands to use his weight to draw the blade down the length of the demon's body. Something gave out in his right elbow and he lost the grip with that hand as he hit the ground but his left held firm. The earlier protests from his right knee suddenly became more urgent as it buckled underneath him and he folded back prone.
Above, the demon bellowed with rage and pain, ichor and static flowing freely from the cut down its middle and its mouth. Summoning the last of his strength, Gladius tightened his grip with his left hand and angled his face to get a better view of the demon towering above him. The last thing Gladius saw as he raised his sword was the demon falling forward onto both knees towards him, it's gaping maw eclipsing his view.
A sharp burst of pain and everything faded to black.
Conversation filtered in on waves of pain and warmth. Some of it made little sense, but as the pain lessened it got a little easier to understand, fragments of sentences washing in.
"…killed how many? Surely not all… certain? … the demon?"
A man was talking in clipped tones. He seemed more annoyed than anything.
"Yes… called our people in for the servants," a woman answered patiently. "… notified because I knew the family."
"Maker's Breath… the idiot son? Did he survive?"
"I think he was the demon."
"Ah. Well, that's an appropriate and highly convenient end for that shitweasel of a man," the man sneered in amusement. Gladius approved on general principle and because he hadn't heard that particular swear before. "I can see it now. Soon to be Magister, Sennas Ennias set to be appointed after his family was tragically murdered just last week, crumbled under the pressure and slaughtered his entire remaining household. The paper's will love it, just you see. It's got blood, family drama, and sticks it to the mages."
"So we're going to lie?" the woman asked in an exasperated tone, and Gladius felt a hand move against his side with gentle pressure. The dull, cold ache that had settled there began to clear and he found himself drawn back into the dark. Her voice sounded familiar to him, but he couldn't place it. "I don't have the kind of pull needed to cover this up. Neither do you."
"No, not… a lie, exactly. We're just rearranging the truth a little," the man said in a conciliatory tone that was only lightly shaded with impatience. "Sennas certainly did kill his household, he just did it last week and blamed escaped slaves, who were conveniently dead when the Templar's arrived. You know the Venatori were at work here."
"What…"
A sharp pain lanced through Gladius's knee and up through his arm, grounding at his elbow and drowning sound in his heartbeat. He faded out for a time, aware that others had joined them, but still unable to open his eyes.
"… take him to Nessum. I'll be joining the pilgrimage ahead of the election…" A deep rumble of a man's voice sounded nearby.
"Is that wise?" the man from earlier asked, sounding tired and further away in the room. "You can't afford any scandal. The seat isn't yours yet, family or not."
"It's the best plan we have," the woman said gently, and Gladius felt a hand smooth his hair. "Our friend will blend in with the sick and injured along the pilgrimage, and our people can make sure he gets to Nessum in one piece."
"Can be trusted?" "Will he join?" Both men asked simultaneously, and the woman sighed.
"He took the time, in advance of a murderous rampage, to make discrete contact with one of our agents to ensure that all of the servants and newly purchased slaves would be safely away and free. We've made good agents out of less material."
"I've made sure his family will get word ahead of the papers, as quietly as possible," the deep voice intoned again and Gladius thanked the Maker for small mercies. He hadn't expected to survive. Easy to not calculate the hurt and disappointment when you won't be there to see it. "The Templars already know what they are going to report, though some convincing was necessary."
"Well, that's all neatly wrapped up then," the tone of sardonic amusement was back in full force, though sounding further and further away to Gladius as warmth started to drown out everything else.
"This has been lovely as always, but I think I've had enough blood and demon shit for one night. I'll make sure the papers get the right side of the story and then I am going to have several drinks before I go to bed."