REVILED

Samon led his group of ten men through the dark sewers. He once commanded hundreds of thugs, but now, he was left to rely on these ten men. These were the only ones he could trust to get this job done. His men kept their weapons drawn as they kept watch for threats. They came up to an intersection, and Samon held up his hand as he checked around it. As Andren mentioned, a rickety walled camp sat a few dozen feet down the tunnel with no signs of life.

“Alright boys,” Samon waved his men forward, “According to Andren, Taela should be in there somewhere, and we’re getting her out,” He drew his war hammer, “We charge in, bust down the wall, and kill everything that isn’t her.”

The men nodded and readied themselves. With a feral scream, Samon led the charge. He slammed his hammer against the wall, and it tore free, leaving a hole large enough for them to fit through. Inside, a dozen skeletons shambled around with swords and shields. Before the undead could react, Samon and his men pulverized their bones to dust, leaving the eleven men left in the camp.

“Is that it?” one of the thugs scratched his head.

Samon growled, not liking the outcome, “Search the camp, but don’t let your guard down,”

The camp wasn’t that large. It was only twenty feet in diameter, and there sat five worn tents. Several of his men kicked at the skeletal remains, but nothing happened, and five of his men went to search the tents.

“This one’s empty.”

“So is this one.”

“Same.”

“I found her!”

Samon ran towards the second tent to the right. Inside, Taela cowered in a ragged dress that barely covered her, and her hands and feet were bound in rope. Her greasy brown hair clung to her face. Her lips were cracked and stained with blood, and dark bags hung under her eyes. Cuts and bruises ran along her feet and legs caused by the stone walkways. She was no longer the cool beauty that served Baron, but a rather frightened girl.

“Taela,” Samon stepped into the tent.

Taela flinched and held her hands up, “Don’t hurt me, please!”

“Get a hold of yourself girl,” Samon growled picking her up, “It’s me, Samon.”

Taela cautiously glanced at him, “Samon…why are you here?”

“To save you,” Samon snapped, “Now let’s get out of here.”

Taela screamed as Samon threw her over his shoulder. She buried her face into his shoulder, and her nails dug into his skin. Samon growled at the pain but continued to push forward with his men behind them. The last thing he needed was for that Amu’Ryjin swordsman to show up, and as he turned a corner, he failed to see the black rat sitting in the shadows.

It didn’t take long for them to make their way out of the sewers and back to the small shack. He unceremoniously sat Taela down in one of the chairs as he dropped his hammer to the floor. Reina’s niece looked worse in the bright light of the day than she did down in the sewers, and the poor girl wouldn’t stop shivering as she tried covering her exposed skin with her arms. The prostitute manning the bar ran up to her with a mug of water.

“Where’s the Legion’s boss, Taela?” Samon kneeled to look her in the eye.

“I…I don’t know,” Taela wiped her face, “I haven’t seen him since I was kidnapped.”

“Come on Taela, you were in his camp. You must know something.”

“I was in that fucking camp for weeks,” Taela snarled, “That monster only came around to give me food. So, no, I don’t know where he is!”

“Damn it,” Samon snapped kicking a table over, “I was hoping I could take him out,” He scratched at his shaved head, “At least I’ll have your aunt on my side.”

“D-did she know about my kidnapping?”

“No, Decker kept it to himself,” Samon said with a small smile, “So, he’ll have a lot to explain…”

His words were cut off as the door to the shack opened. A group of guards stepped inside with an elderly mage and a young man with curly red hair. The soldiers had their hands on their weapons as they eyed the thugs.

“Who are you?” Samon growled stepping towards his hammer.

“Samon Blackhammer,” the young man said, “You’re under arrest for attacking the theater the other night.”

“What are you talking about,” Samon spat as he grabbed onto his hammer’s shaft, “I didn’t attack the theater.”

“Men wearing the crest of your gang attacked the theater,” the elderly mage snapped, “Several high-ranking members of the city were hurt, and lady Priscilla herself was placed in harms way,” his gaze fell to Taela, “And now it looks like we caught you in the middle of a kidnapping.”

“I didn’t-”

“Help me please!” Taela shouted with tears running down her cheeks. Samon stared at her in disbelief, “This man kidnapped me from my aunt, and then he and his men forced themselves on me!”

“We did no such thing!” Samon yelled at Taela, “Stop lying.”

“It’s true,” the prostitute held Taela glaring at Samon, “I saw the whole thing. This poor girl…what they did to her was despicable!”

Samon heard swords being drawn, and he turned to see the guard pointing their swords at him. His men drew their own weapons nervously looking between Samon and the guards.

“Samon Blackhammer,” the mage snapped, “His Grace has overlooked your activities because of your association with Bartholomew Decker, but not anymore. For your heinous crimes, you’ll be brought before the judges and punished for your wrong doings.”

“Come peacefully,” the red-headed man said.

Samon’s knuckles turned white as they gripped his weapon’s shaft. It was a setup. With an angry roar, he picked up his hammer and swung it towards the women. The black hammer bounced off a magical barrier that surrounded the girls, and Samon turned his feral gaze onto the mage.

The fighting was chaotic. Despite having the superior numbers, Samon’s men were outmatched by the guards who were better trained and equipped. One by one, Samon’s thugs were cut down, their blood seeping into the wooden floors, but that fueled Samon forward. His hammer slammed into the chest of a guard, crushing the bones and organ underneath, and Samon used the momentum to destroy another guard’s head. Cuts ran along Samon’s arms as side as they continued to surround him. With a snarl, Samon brought the hammer down on the red-headed swordsman, but he dodged out of the way. Samon grunted as pain shot through his chest and warmth ran down his front. The swordsman’s blade pierced Samon’s chest, and the large man fell to his knees.

“Damn…you…” Samon’s words were cut short by the whistling blade.

Halligan stared down at Samon’s headless body. Thirteen men lay dead at their feet, two of them belonged to the guards. Slowly, he let his gaze linger on the two women cowering behind Elizar’s magic shield. The mage dispelled the magic with a wave of his hand, and Halligan gently approached them.

“You two are safe now,” Halligan said kneeling in front of them.

“T-thank you,” Taela cried into the prostitute’s shoulder, “Can…I go home now?”

Elizar threw his cloak around Taela’s shoulders, “We have a few questions first, then we’ll have a carriage take you home.”

“Did Samon meet with anyone strange?” Halligan said gently.

“Not…that I can think of,” Taela stuttered as she wiped her face, “Sometime a hooded figure would come in delivering messages. I think they were from his boss.”

“Yes,” the prostitute nodded, “Samon didn’t seem happy whenever he got them, but he wouldn’t act out in front of this person.”

“Did you ever see his face?” Elizar said scratching his chin. Both women shook their heads.

“So, you wouldn’t be able to tell us more about this person,” Halligan sighed as he turned to the guards, “Have a carriage brought immediately for these two.”

A guard saluted and ran out of the tavern. A carriage appeared after a few hours and the women rode down the street. Halligan watched the carriage disappear.

“Sir, we can’t find any evidence on this mysterious person.” A guard said.

“What should we do now Elizar?” Halligan turned to the mage.

“There’s nothing we can do for now,” Elizar sighed, “We should keep an eye on Bartholomew Decker until something does happen.”

Taela held herself as the carriage rocked down the road. The prostitute that was at Samon’s bar held onto her, and Taela was thankful for the contact. She could still hear the monster’s commands. It dragged her to that camp, and kept her there until Samon came for her, and then when the guards arrived, she got them to attack Samon. The slave crest branded on her right breast burned, an ever-present reminder.

“Y-you did well,” Taela whispered to the prostitute.

“Andren told me what to do,” she said petting her, “He said that it would free me from Samon and help lady Reina.”

Taela simply nodded, “What’s your name?”

“Wenny,”

Taela groaned as the crest pulsed, “T-thank you Wenny.”

The two women sat there until the carriage came to a stop. The door flew open and Baron stormed in. He panted heavily and his eyes never left Taela.

“Thank Shecoga, your back,” Baron embraced her.

Taela buried her face into his shoulder, “It’s good to be back,” she cried.

The two of them sat there, enjoying each other’s embrace. Then a knock came from the driver, and they all left the carriage. The entire manor staff swarmed Taela, hugging her and crying alongside them. For a moment, the nightmare that she had been living was far away.

“I’m glad your back,” Charolette hugged her, “I’m sorry, but I’ve been spoiling master Baron while you were away.’

Taela chuckled, “That’s fine, I have to punish him for all the shit he put me through,” the surrounding staff laughed.

“Taela,” Bartholomew’s powerful voice echoed through the foyer. He calmly approached and warmly embraced her, “Thank the Virtue’s your back.”

“I’m sorry for being a bother,”

Bartholomew kissed her forehead, “My dear, you are never a bother,” he quickly glared at Baron, “However, I need to speak with you. I hope you understand.”

“Yes sir,”

Baron smiled and led her back to his office with Baron behind them. Andren stood in the office with a bag sitting on Decker’s desk. Bartholomew took a seat at his desk.

“I can’t believe Samon would turn on me,” Bartholomew sighed shaking his head, “And to think he would help the Legion kidnap Taela.’

“It is disturbing,” Andren shook his head, “And then Wilfried helped the Legion sell contraband.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this before it happened?” Bartholomew growled.

“That’s my fault Sire,” Andren bowed, “When I heard about it, I tried to cause a rift between the Legion and Samon. That’s why I tried framing Samon for the attack, but…” He pulled out Wilfried’s head from the bag.

“Shit,” Baron sighed.

“There tearing us apart on piece at a time,” Bartholomew rubbed his face in frustration, “Have the Legion returned to their tavern.”

“No sir,” Andren sighed, “There have been no signs of activity in their tavern.”

“Then find them,” Andren nodded and left the room. Bartholomew turned back to Taela, “Will you be coming back to service?”

“I-I’d like to take some time off,” Taela shook, “Maybe spend some time with my aunt.”

“Of course,” Bartholomew smiled at her, “Feel free to get cleaned up, and I’ll have a carriage waiting for you when you’re ready.”

Taela bowed, “Thank you, sir,” She silently left the room.

Bartholomew turned to his son, “That’s how you get things done boy,” he sighed, “If Andren hadn’t found the connection between Samon and the Legion, then we’d never would have gotten her back.”

“I get it old man,” Baron scoffed.

Bartholomew glared at him, “Good, now leave,” he said pulling out a stack of papers, “Now that Samon’s dead, I have even more work to do.”