The Homunculus Knight

Chapter 4: Reversal of Fortune

“The current strain exceeds our expectations. Symptoms start within the first hour after exposure, and we’ve not had a single subject last twenty-four hours before becoming a Screamer. While magical healing can negate this set of symptoms, that factor does come with its own advantages. Waves of infection can tie down enemy Spellweavers and exhaust them. The new plague won’t kill the Holy League, but it will cripple it.” - Report by Lord Aloysius Wolfgang on the effectiveness of the ‘Screaming Plague.’

Natalie watched as more people were loaded into the wagon by the plague wardens. Many were survivors of the theatre attack, and they looked at Natalie with fear and respect. She’d shifted rubble and carried the injured clear of the disaster while Cole faced the Wyvern.

Glancing at the monster’s still burning carcass, Natalie could hardly believe Cole killed it. Not only had he faced the Wyvern and bested it, he’d done it with relative ease. It was clear Natalie wasn’t the only one with strengthening skills.

The air stunk of burning flesh and diseased blood, something Natalie was thankful for. When she’d been helping people in the theatre, the scent of spilled blood almost got to her a few times. Every time the thirst stirred, she touched her amulet, letting its cold power shock the hungry thoughts away. So far, her methods were working, and it had been weeks since Natalie lost control.

Still looking at the Wyvern, Natalie wondered what would have happened if she’d consumed its lifeblood. Cole denied her that opportunity, and she was a little thankful the temptation never presented itself. A wyvern’s blood would certainly be powerful, and with Isabelle’s help, she might have been able to make a bone-bound familiar from the monster. But the stink of the plague and her recent experience with corrupting draconic power made her leery.

A whistle caught Natalie's attention, and she saw the wagon carrying the infected was moving, the two workhorses pulling their burden with plodding strength. Walking alongside the cart, Natalie watched as Cole and the Pankrator healed their fellow passengers. Both were old hands at bandaging injuries and had some modicum of healing magic. Cole still couldn’t do much more than accelerate skin growth, but it was enough to make wrapping treated linen around cuts and scrapes easier. Other wagons held the more seriously injured, with squads of plague warden healers trying to keep them alive long enough to reach the Temple.

As the cart exited the plaza, Natalie realized someone was watching her. Looking at the wagon, she realized one of the infected was staring at her, a little girl, maybe ten at the oldest, with curly brown hair and haunted eyes. The inverted hand marked her forehead, and the girl’s arm hung in an improvised sling. Natalie vaguely remembered helping free the girl and her mother from collapsed debris. Glancing at the other passengers, Natalie realized the girl was alone. Meaning her mother was among the more severely injured… or waiting for final rites.

The child stared at Natalie for a time, not saying anything and making Natalie consider if the girl was in shock or severely concussed. Reaching an intersection, the wagon turned sharply as it tried to share the road with too many of its fellows, and the girl almost slipped over the side. Natalie rushed forward and put a hand on the child’s side, steadying her. The jostled child blinked in surprise and looked at Natalie. In a voice raspy from pain, the girl asked. “Are you the vampire?”

Pulling her hand away, Natalie said. “Yes, yes, I am.”

Frowning with the overt confusion only small children can muster, the girl muttered. “Mommy said you were a monster, but you still helped us.”

Natalie smiled, making sure her fangs didn’t show. “Some monsters don’t want to be monsters.”

The child nodded slightly, and her eyes unfocused, exhaustion claiming her ability to think properly. As they left Strausburg, the smell of burning Wyvern became less pronounced, replaced with a general malaise of fear, blood, and disease; all things Natalie’s nose was primed for. Occasionally they’d pass by smoldering piles of ash, still licked by silver embers, the only remnants of the dropped ghouls. Natalie’s skin prickled every time she got close, the active wards sniffing her and deciding whether they should strike. It made Natalie want to shiver in discomfort; at least she now knew Argentari’s plan wasn’t completely idiotic. If those wards were sicced upon Scapin and Dietrich, they wouldn’t have stood a chance, even with the Alukah’s blood.

It didn’t take long for the Tenth Temple to come into sight, its great black belfry looming over the nearby buildings. Vindabon was home to ten great temples along with myriad shrines and minor sanctums. Natalie’s research during the Heartstealer hunt told her that much, but it hadn’t revealed much about the Eleventh God and his Temple. Looking at the Pankrator, who was busy keeping the spirits of the infected up by sharing amusing stories, Natalie decided if strife was coming, she needed to look into Misbegotten War and his followers.

Natalie could still remember when she learned about the hidden god; like much of her taboo knowledge, it originally came from Barnabas. He’d referenced Misbegotten War during a long profanity-laden rant about banditry she’d overheard. Later Natalie asked her mother about the Eleventh God and was told little about this unknown deity.

“Sometimes you have to fight to survive; that’s just a fact of life. Misbegotten War is the God of those times, and just as we never wish to be in those situations, we never call upon him without need.”

The Eleventh God: patron of soldiers, strugglers, survivors, and anyone else who fights for a worthy cause. Peace is a fleeting thing in a world filled with magical and mundane dangers. Since before history began, humanity has been at war with countless threats, and out of that strife, Misbegotten War arose. The embodiment of exactly what victory requires and all that entails.

As she thought about it, Natalie wondered if Misbegotten War even had a temple. She’d heard battle cries were his prayers and combat his rituals, so perhaps the Eleventh counted every fortress and watch station as his holy ground? Maybe she could ask the Pankrator if she got an opportunity; learning about the God of War and his followers generally felt prudent after tonight's madness.

Finally reaching the Temple, Natalie was surprised to see pavilions had been set up across the statue garden surrounding the temple. They’d been erected very quickly and were currently working as triage and testing centers for those injured or exposed to the infected. Natalie marveled at the professional efficiency and was reminded exactly how much wealth and power Vindabon held. She was in one of the greatest cities in the Holy League, and that fact was displayed in both times of celebration and crisis. Except usually such times were separated by more than a few hours…

Cole stepped off the wagon and started helping his fellow infected off the cart; Natalie considered stepping forward to help but decided against it. A single person recognizing her and making a scene would completely negate any aid she provided. Plague wardens herded the infected towards a pavilion, and Cole caught Natalie’s hand as he was guided away. “Find out what you can.”

Squeezing his hand, Natalie said. “I’ll try my best.” she then watched as he was led away. Standing for a long moment, Natalie sucked in a pointless breath and nearly gagged on the smell of sterilizing chemicals and pungent medicine. Entire vats of different alchemical concoctions must have been dredged up from somewhere. Rubbing her nose, Natalie started walking towards the Temple's main doors. Finding out what Isabelle knew, if anything, was her next task.

As she got close, a plague warden stopped Natalie with an outstretched hand. As Natalie started to explain herself, the warden cut her off. “I know who and what you are. You might be clean, but your clothes and skin aren’t. Follow me so we can cleanse you before the emergency council.”

Frowning, Natalie followed after the warden, trying to place the familiar voice. “Hey, aren’t you…”

Flicking her beak mask back towards Natalie, the warden grunted. “I am Priestess Rihan, and yes, we’ve met.”

Thinking back to her last meeting with the taciturn Corpse-Tender, Natalie asked. “So, did you learn more about the Hellspawn infection?”

Mask bobbing in a nod, Rihan said. “Yes, I’ve actually been busy with the Louon bodies. The dead Housemarked and few intact Louons have been fascinating. Liam Louon, in particular, was interesting, even with the damage inflicted during your capture of him.”

Blinking in surprise, Natalie felt a little sick at Rihan’s words. While she wasn’t nearly the innocent village girl who’d lost herself on seeing the Vryko Ghouls, Natalie still didn’t like to think about anatomical dissection, especially of people she’d known, no matter how terrible they’d been. Forcing down the discomfort, Natalie had an idea. “Would it be possible to read a report of your findings sometime?”

Due to the mask, it was difficult to tell, but Natalie was reasonably certain Rihan was surprised by the request. After a few seconds, the Corpse-Tender answered. “You have general archive access, so that shouldn’t be a problem.”

Smiling with her teeth hidden, Natalie said. “Thank you!”

Isabelle once expressed interest in learning more about the internal ‘workings’ of Liam Louon. The information Rihan uncovered might be a useful bargaining token with the old monster.

Rihan led Natalie into a smaller pavilion that stunk of cleansing tinctures. Two other plague wardens waited inside the tent, each holding buckets of something that smelled like herbs and ammonia. Without warning, the buckets were emptied over Rihan and Natalie’s heads. Sputtering and cursing, Natalie didn’t even sense the second or third buckets until they struck. Eyes and mouth clamped shut to avoid the stinging chemicals, Natalie frantically covered her nose as the cleansing mixtures were washed away with cold water.

Finally opening her eyes, Natalie looked down at her ruined dress and briefly considered killing everyone else in the pavilion. Deciding the catharsis wasn’t worth it; Natalie let herself be led out of the tent and finally towards the Temple’s entrance.

Deciding to change her focus from imagining how Rihan would taste, Natalie asked. “You said something about a council?”

Rihan answered. “The Temple leadership and a bunch of other people are meeting to discuss matters. It’s starting soon, and they want you for some reason.”

Sighing, Natalie tried to squeeze some fluid out of her soaked dress. “Do I have time to change?”

They passed through the great temple doors then, and Rihan grabbed something from a pile next to one of the guard stations. The plague warden tossed the bundle to Natalie, and she caught what was quickly revealed to be a utilitarian smock of light grey linen. Rihan explained. “You have maybe five minutes; the meeting will be in the sky garden.”

Blinking in confusion, Natalie asked, “The what?”

Head cocked to the side in a distinctly avian fashion, Rihan snapped. “You’ve been living in the Temple for months and never noticed what's on the southern roof?”

Shaking her head, Natalie snapped. “Clearly, so can you please give me directions?”

Rihan obliged, giving terse instructions on how to reach the secluded rooftop. Rushing through the twisting hallways of the Temple, Natalie put her inhuman dexterity to its ultimate test, trying to change out of soaked clothes while on the move. Thankfully Rihan’s directions took Natalie through some of the less busy sections of the Temple, preserving her modesty even as she fought ill-fitting fabric.

After multiple staircases and a little bit of backtracking, Natalie found the sky garden’s entrance in the form of a painted set of double doors. The image of a great crow in flight adorned the doors, its grasping talons sticking out of the wood as unique handles. Reaching out to grip the talon, Natalie admired the creative mix of mediums and examined the painted corvid. The icon was old and weatherbeaten, but something about it called to Natalie. Perhaps the way the crow’s eyes shone or the way the wood’s grain fed into the painted feathers.

Right before Natalie’s hand would’ve touched the talon, the door swung open, and a blast of cold night air greeted her. Blinking away the wind, Natalie found a pair of heavily armed templars standing before her. They nodded to her, and the shorter of the pair said. “They are expecting you.”

Offering her own nod of thanks, Natalie passed between the templars and into the sky garden. Nestled between two taller sections of the Temple and sitting in the shadow of the arch sanctum’s dome, the garden occupied a flat section of roof invisible from the street below. Shaped like an oval, with the long edges kissing the sanctum dome and the roof’s edge, the garden was a somber place of dark tile. Despite being called a garden, the space lacked anything green or growing. Instead, carved stone slabs sat in formation around a small cupola supported by thick columns.

Voices came from inside the cupola, and Natalie walked toward them, sparing a glance at the waist-high stone slabs that surrounded the central structure. Sudden realization made Natalie stop mid-stride as she looked at one of the slabs; they were biers, places for corpses to be set out. Sucking in a useless breath and musing on the Tenth Temple’s morbid predictability, Natalie approached the cupola, trying to figure out why you’d have fifty or so biers on a building's roof.

Slipping past one of the large, intricately carved columns, Natalie entered the cupola and found maybe thirty people beneath the small tiled dome. She recognized many of them as Hierophants of the different Temples, with a few others being vaguely familiar faces from the DeMello ball. Uncertain of what to do, Natalie leaned against one of the columns and watched the heated discussion happening among the city officials.

“This has been a brazen attack on our city! We need to recall soldiers immediately to strengthen our defenses in the face of another assault!” barked a nobleman with ridiculous muttonchops.

Muttonchops was quickly challenged by a Priestess in the colors of Mother Earth. “Vindabon is more than capable of defending itself. All recalling soldiers would do is break quarantine and weaken the Southern Marches.”

A little surprised she hadn’t been noticed, Natalie listened to the argument and a dozen similar ones. The sky garden was clearly hosting a meeting of Vindabon’s leadership, trying to coordinate a response to the attack, which did make some sense but didn’t explain why Natalie was summoned.

More people steadily filtered into the cupola as the minutes burned on, arriving either by the entrance Natalie used or by flying mounts. A dozen griffins and hippogryphs landed at the sky garden’s edge and deposited their riders before soaring away. Something that helped explain the curious meeting location, the sky garden acted as the Tenth Temples' griffin port.

With every new arrival, Natalie expected someone to finally notice her and cause problems. Standing by herself, dressed in a grey smock with still-wet hair, she didn’t blend in at all. Yet, somehow, she avoided attention and kept up her strange confused vigil. Natalie was tempted to go over toward Glynn or Nyami and try to learn more about what was happening, but nostalgia and exhaustion convinced her otherwise. It had been a while since people ignored Natalie, something she used to hate as a barmaid in Glockmire. As a vampire in Vindabon, the lack of prying eyes or nervous whispers was a balm, especially among such powerful people.

Reaching into the bundle of soaked clothes she still held under one arm, Natalie fished out the bone charm Isabelle made for her. Squinting at the runebone, Natalie mused if it was the source of her obscuration. She thought she’d deactivated the magic before the party but didn’t know enough about it to be certain.

A nearby voice caught Natalie’s ear, and it took her a moment to realize she was being addressed. “I hear you’ve had an eventful evening.”

With a sigh, Natalie looked up to Hierophant Alexo Argentari standing nearby. The heavy-set Priest was playing with a coin, dancing it between his fingers in what Natalie was fairly certain was a display of nerves.

Tucking the runebone away, Natalie grumbled, “How is it you are the first person to notice me all evening?”

Argentari smiled slightly. “Because I’m the reason no one has noticed you all evening. Your presence would be distracting, and bluntly we don’t have the time for the usual fuss you provoke.”

Clicking her fangs together in annoyance, Natalie snapped. “I’d appreciate it if you asked before casting some obscuration spell on me.”

Nodding, Argentari said. “That was impolite of me; I’m sorry, and I’m sorry for dragging you to this meeting.”

Sighing, Natalie was glad to have one of her questions answered. “So you called me here; why?”

A wave of weariness passed over Argentari, his eyes unfocusing momentarily before snapping back to Natalie. “Do you know what a reverse martyr is?”

Natalie shook her head. “I know what a martyr is, someone who dies for others. So I’m guessing it's someone who sacrifices others to survive.”

Argentari’s smile returned. “A good if grim guess. No, a reverse martyr is someone burdened by surviving where others cannot and carrying on their will. For example, imagine a squad of soldiers on patrol encounters a feral Giant. The soldiers are doomed; they lack the training and equipment to kill the monster. But information about the threat can’t die with them; people need to be warned. So one of the soldiers becomes a reverse martyr, the chosen survivor who abandons their friends to ensure they don’t die in vain.”

Eyes narrowing, Natalie muttered. “How lovely. So explain what that has to do with me.”

Giving her a flat stare, Argentari said. “My agents are bringing horrific stories of plague in the south. No one has heard from Harmas in months, and army scouts have found villages scoured of life by the pestilence. If this new contagion is in the city, I fear it will reap a terrible toll.”

Looking over the five dozen or so people assembled in the rotunda, Argentari explained. “You are one of the handful of people in Vindabon completely immune to the plague, and of that handful, no one else has a God vouching for them.”

Understanding crept through Natalie and, with it, cold dread. “I’m here in case the plague kills everyone at this meeting.”

Argentari nodded. “I apologize for forcing you into this role, but for this meeting, a trusted witness must survive.”

Frowning, Natalie was about to ask what he meant by that when the flapping of great wings filled the night. A pure white hippogryph flanked by two armored griffins landed at the sky garden’s edge. Lady Isibeth Franz, acting liege of Vindabon, dismounted from her beast and stormed towards the rotunda; two fully armored knights trying to keep up with her. Still wearing her festival regalia, Lady Franz looked furious, her grey eyes alight with palpable rage.

Marching into the rotunda like a storm of fine fabrics and ceremonial armor, the acting liege snapped. “Our city was attacked tonight. I want answers and plans now!”

A grim-looking noble with a drooping mustache stepped forward. “Our current reports say twenty Mountain Wyverns flew over the city starting shortly before tenth bell, just when many revelers would be heading home or changing locations. Each wyvern was burdened with plague victims, which they dropped. We think there was supposed to be one wyvern for every city district.”

The crowd of officials parted for Lady Franz, and she stepped onto a small dias in the rotunda’s center; Natalie hadn’t noticed it earlier with people crowded around it. Auburn curls bounced as Lady Franz spun in a slow circle so that she could view her hastily assembled court. “Why didn’t the city wards detect these monsters? Don’t the First and Seventh Temples have methods of protecting the sky?”

All eyes fell upon a stern Hierophant clad in stormcloud robes. Bowing his head, the Priest of Father Sky rumbled. “Most of the city’s passive wards are still damaged, including some of our watchers. The wyverns flew right above where the weakened wards could detect them. As for those sworn to Aunt Huntress, their defenses deter monsters from wandering too close to the city; they’d have little effect on creatures enslaved by the Leeches.”

Lady Franz stopped her movement and stared at the Hierophant as the implications sunk in. “They flew right above the watcher wards? Could previous more subtle incursions be how they learned where to fly?”

Pursing his lips, the bearded Hierophant picked his words carefully. “It’s possible but unlikely; sensing exactly where the watchers are without triggering one would be prohibitively difficult. Especially considering the rituals we’ve been doing to repair the wards.”

Natalie shut her eyes and sighed. Argentari said he needed a ‘trusted witness,’ and now she understood why. It seemed like the Duchies managed to get sensitive and precise information about Vindabon’s defenses. Someone in the halls of power was spying for the vampires.

The implications of the Hierophant’s report were not lost on most of the court. While no one said anything, Natalie could see a slight shift in body language go through the crowd. The tensing of shoulders, quick glances at neighbors, the sort of thing a social animal… or social predator like Natalie knew how to spot.

Lady Franz didn’t give her court time to fret, moving on to the next question. “Did we manage to destroy the wyverns, at least?”

The noble with the drooping mustaches said. “Eight managed to escape the summoned storm, and half of those have been dealt with, while the other four are being tracked by our knights. We think roughly ten of them were killed by lightning.”

Another noble, this one with a squint her monocle didn’t quite fix, elaborated. “I’ve personally seen a large collection of burnt bones rain down upon my borough; I expect we will be finding bits of wyvern on rooftops for weeks.”

Eyes narrowing, Lady Franz asked, “What about the other two wyverns?”

Hierophant Glynn stepped forward then. “One managed to survive and land in Strausburg, my Temple’s Paladin dispatched it.”

That got a few looks of shock from court members, and Natalie couldn’t help but feel a little smug pride at her partner’s accomplishments.

Lady Franz asked. “Then are we missing a wyvern? Where is the last one?”

The Hierophant of Father Sky said. “We don’t know; it took multiple lightning strikes and was headed southeast when it passed outside the storm and our ability to sense it.”

Setting her jaw, the acting liege turned to the noble with the mustaches. “Sir Falks, I trust you will have more knights dispatched to find and deal with this monster?”

Sir Falks nodded and slammed a fist to his chest in a salute. “I already have a triad of scout griffins searching the skies in that area. We will confirm its death by sight or sword soon enough.”

Accepting that, Lady Franz asked. “Then what about the plague? Do we think it's the same pestilence as in the South?

Argentari spoke then. “Yes, that is likely; I’ve sent what information we have about the ‘Screaming Plague’ to every Temple and healer within the city. If it's treated with magic in the first hour after exposure, it's not that much different from the usual plague. A bit faster acting if my reports are correct, but if we miss that window, it becomes much nastier. The infected are reduced to… well, bluntly, they start acting like Grinning Ghouls while they are still alive. According to the Seers, who’ve examined the ‘Screamers,’ their minds are overwhelmed with rage and pain. We… we don’t have a known case of a Screamer recovering once they enter that state.”

Letting out a breath, Lady Franz said. “We need every Priest and Magi in the city working to treat every suspected infected. The city is to enter full quarantine, and I want the Watch prepared for any infected we miss. Give them full permission to requisition whatever they need to capture people alive. Vindabon is not a rural Marcher town; we will try and cure any Screamers that might slip through our net.”

Another court member, this one clad in unadorned armor with ritual scars on her forehead, asked. “Have we considered the possibility this is the prelude to further attacks? Sowing panic, chaos, and the plague across the city would be an excellent way to weaken us before a greater offensive.”

Sir Falks answered. “According to our information, the lines south of Harmas still hold. To me, it seems likely this isn’t an attempt to cripple Vindabon before an invasion but instead an attempt to limit aid to the Southern Marches. Most of the soldiers and supplies headed for the front pass-through Vindabon. If we are forced to isolate ourselves, then much of the League’s support will be bottlenecked.”

Argentari spoke then in a strangely sing-song fashion. “Perhaps whatever befalls Harmas is a rehearsal for our current woes? The silencing of an entire city by plague and panic has maimed morale and momentum. If our southern stronghold is silenced and the supply lines snipped, we must steady ourselves for strife.”

No one remarked about Argentari’s word choice, and Natalie gave the Quicksilver Player a strange look. Something about the alliteration stuck to Natalie’s mind, and she made a mental note to ask him about it later.

Someone in the crowd snorted indignantly; a willowy woman reaching middle age with pale blond hair fixed in place by bejeweled pins. “Strife is already upon us, merchant! The city has been attacked, and we can’t do anything but wait for the pestilence to take its tithe!”

Lady Franz addressed the thin noblewoman. “Duchess Carolina, this is not the time for hysterics. We face a crisis, but this isn’t the first or the last Vindabon will wether under my family’s leadership.”

Something about the exchange stunk to Natalie, reeking of deeper issues and political posturing. Glancing at Argentari, she noted the spymaster wore a very thin smile, the closest she’d seen to his normally jovial air all evening. Yes, more was happening beneath the surface, and Natalie knew she’d have to dive into the matter eventually.

Watching the Quicksilver Master, Natalie licked a fang in annoyance. His whole declaration of her being a ‘reverse martyr’ felt like the first layer of some political povitica. He’d brought her to this important meeting, probably without getting proper permission, for more reasons than having an undead witness.

Gently chewing her lip, Natalie watched the meeting continue. Turning from the initial sharing of information to now finalizing plans and preparations on how to deal with a plague-ridden city. Natalie tried to absorb everything, but details started to blur together after the first fifteen minutes of bureaucratic minutia. Thankfully the meeting came to a close soon after the half-hour mark. With a plan of action decided and divided between responsible parties, the court of Vindabon started to disperse. Griffins and hippogryphs came to some unheard call and took their masters away. While those without a flying mount were forced to leave the sky garden by the door Natalie used.

Eventually, the sky garden emptied until three people stood in it; Glynn, Argentari, and Natalie. The formerly crowded rotunda suddenly felt much bigger with only the trio inside it. Glynn’s inhumanly perfect face was set in a discordant frown, and he asked. “Was the hex you put on the Duchess really necessary?”

Argentari shrugged and said. “I wanted to confirm my suspicions; she’s influenced by something, my spell poked the suture, and she reacted.”

Frowning, Natalie guessed. “So that's what your alliteration was about? You were casting a spell?”

The Player nodded. “Yes, just a little psychic prod to see what budged in Duchess Carolina Franzia’s mind. I wrapped the spell in magical subtlety as well, but let you and a few others peek past the curtain.”

Glynn’s slanted eyes fell on Natalie, and he asked. “How is Cole? I heard he was victorious but not much else.”

Natalie didn’t know if Argentari dropped his spell on her or if Glynn could just cut through it; both seemed possible. “He’s infected, which proves this is a new plague. I think he’s died from the plague before, or at least had it; either way, he should be immune to the normal strain. So whatever this is, it's new, and I’ve not been able to consult with my mentor about it yet.”

A low, tired breath escaped the Temple Keeper, and Glynn mused. “It’s difficult to believe what Cole is. I’ve looked through the records and found nothing close to him.”

Shaking his head as if to dispel thoughts, Glynn added. “Ultimately, that matters little; Master Time has marked Cole, and I won’t second-guess my God.”

Argentari made a low snort of disapproval. “The Pantheon isn’t infallible; neither are their champions; Paladins have been subverted before.”

Slightly unsettled by that pronouncement, Natalie asked. “Alright, so why did you really drag me into this Argentari? A scribe could’ve taken notes of the meeting; it wasn’t exactly something that needed a reverse martyr.”

Playing with his beard, Argentari looked up into the rotunda’s cupola. “I’m trying to rectify my mistakes and treat you like an important ally instead of a potential threat. I wasn’t overstating your value as a trusted vampire during a plague. Having someone who can safely move between quarantined areas will be invaluable.”

Natalie sighed and rolled her hand, gesturing for Argentari to skip past his surface reasons. The Quicksilver Master snorted in amusement and added. “I also wanted to know if you sensed anything from the people here at this meeting.”

Glynn started to pace around the rotunda, and Natalie watched him while she tried to sift through her recollection of events. “Nothing abnormal, just your spells and… well, this whole place feels odd. I thought at first it was all the Priests and Magi, but now that they are gone, something about the sky garden doesn’t feel… right.”

Clicking his tongue, Argentari pointed up into the cupola, and Natalie followed his finger and looked at the dome more closely. What she’d initially assumed were simple patterns in the stone was quickly revealed to be runes, thousands upon thousands of runes lining the entire inside of the dome. Dangling from the apex of the cupola on a chain was a metal brazier glowing with fire. As she stared at the brazier dangling, maybe four meters above her head, Natalie realized she couldn’t smell the fire.

Slightly unnerved, sniffing the air for any smoke of incense, Natalie asked. “What is this place?”

Glynn answered. “An Iskani Mortaeium, it’s a man-made place of power and one of the few things left from the original Temple of Vindabon. Pestilence cannot spread beneath its roof, prying eyes are blinded by its light, and corpses placed upon the biers are protected from decay until they share their final truths. This was once a place of powerful ritual and remembrance, but now we use it for meetings where secrecy is paramount.”

Touching one of the columns, Natalie suddenly felt very small in this ancient structure. It was built by the Old Empire and survived a millennium of calamities. Swallowing down that humbling thought, Natalie asked. “So what were you hoping I’d sense?”

Argentari answered. “The revelation that vampires can use the Alukah’s blood to bypass wards and other defenses is… profoundly unsettling. We’d known about Daywalkers for nearly a century, but the full danger they represent was unknown until you came to us. Vampires have probably been slipping into Vindabon, and Pantheon knows where else unobstructed for several lifetimes. Sowing all manner of hateful seeds we now need to find before they grow into true threats.”

Thinking to the willowy blond noblewoman and her outburst, Natalie guessed. “And you think the Duchess is one of those seeds? You were hoping I could detect some imprint of a ‘Daywalker,’ as you call the blood users?”

Glynn nodded. “Yes, especially with the unique features of this sanctum at work. Argentari’s psychic ‘poke’ wouldn’t have been so effective elsewhere. We know someone or something has altered her mind; we just don’t know the exact details.”

Natalie grimaced. “I guess ambushing her with a powerful Seer isn’t an option?”

Argentari made an amused sound. “Not unless we have adamant-clad evidence something foul is behind the alterations. Until we know more, it could be something as banal as a magically repressed memory or treated phobia.”

Sighing, Natalie stepped out of the rotunda. “Well, if I can help, I will. Till then, I’m going to check on Cole and then speak with my mentor.”

Argentari called after her. “I don’t suppose you or Glynn would be willing to share who this mentor of yours is?”

Resisting the urge to flip him a rude gesture, Natalie just shook her head. “I… appreciate these efforts to ‘rectify your mistakes,’ but bluntly, I still don’t like you.”

The Quicksilver Player made a noise halfway between a laugh and a sigh. “Fair enough. But if you do find out anything valuable, please share it. My mistakes were born of paranoia and overconfidence; learn from them.”

Walking towards the talon door, Natalie shrugged. “Good advice; I hope we both follow it.”