Euthymius felt his heart hammering, showing no sign of ceasing its wild rhythm, beads trickled down his clammy temple, between the darkened tresses. The cold wall offered little soothe against the heat of his guilt. Guilt born of trailing a comrade, Gnaeurian for the past few weeks throughout the lower districts.

  The fear of being discovered mingled with the guilt, the shame of losing hope in his supposed brothers and sisters whom he worked with for the past few years. But he could not help it, he sensed shadows moving across the city, stretching their claws across the edifices, walls, towers, shops, headquarters and the nine bridges connecting the two sides. He wanted to be absolutely sure, his brother died not in vain, for a future dark and disorderly like the Mad Prophet declaimed.

  After every task, every mission Euthymius tailed beyond his partners in crime for the past year since he delivered a strange white powder to the higher districts. Though he vaguely alluded it to Calaviril, she mentioned nothing of a possible pandemic, poisonings or anything of such. Not amongst the plebeian, not amongst the vagrants and refugees pulling in from the continent. And more importantly, not from the nobilos of the city nor the imperial statesman relegated to the commoner’s districts. Neither whom Naghig specified as the intended delivery recipients.

  At least nothing noteworthy she mentioned. A few perished to some anathema the Order has been investigating the source off, but not on the level and reach of the one ravaging the north. It perturbed him a little as many spoke of a coming retribution against the nobilos living in their lofty mansions, no longer having the gout to decree their unbearable commands in person.

  Peeking out, he nearly lost Gnaeurian in the crowded streets. Though not for long as he stood out relatively within the thickness in his beaten gold indigo coat of fine linen and pristine white brocades embroidered on its back and flared shoulders. A high, oval collar framed his face peering above the heads, a ripple of light swept across his lank, silky dark blonde hair. His hands remained awfully close to his short blade dangling by his side, the boiled leather sheathed drumming against the matte breeches of some cheap silk.

  “Damn it.” Euthymius threw the cloak over his head, and like a vengeful wraith, followed after the handsome aurhe as he took a sharp turn at the square.

  A few years before, he would have been lost, but after spending years carrying out tasks for the New Dawn, Euthymius could easily recount the outline of each district from the mountain’s bosom down to its feet even if wakened suddenly from a peaceful dream.

  Standing in the shadow of the statue erected in honor of Eraclesion–a famed heroic tribune of the war against the retreating Atoned–Euthymius looked west and east before noticing the towering aurhe northwards. His heart maintained its wild rhythm whilst he keeping his eye on the unaware Gnaeurian whilst loitering about. A little guilt gnawed at him, knowing this man fought alongside his brother, but swallowed it, hoping deep down his stalking will result in nothing.

  For a moment, he stood by, frozen by unease when he realized Gnaeurian followed the same route the two of them done during their morning task. He stopped at the same Vampyr alchemist who still bore the marks of his Atonement upon his rubbery skin, handed him once more a bag heavy with coins and took a bag heavy with powdered crystals and another lighter with herbs. Just like they did during the morning routine.

  From what little he was told by Naghig and Gnaeurian, these were mostly the yellow-orange calendula his mother also seldom used in various salads she made to ease their pains after a long day, tinctured elecampane used for those cursed by mischievous fae stealing into their throats and scrawl the flesh inside, forcing cough fit upon them. He himself experienced it a few times, along a few other miners when they dug into a colony of pixies. Knowing these, his guilt amplified along with his hope in the results of his little, furtive endeavor amounting to nothing but paranoia.

  Though for a moment, doubt slipped into his mind. Euthymius had the notion that the aurhe may have discovered him, and simply toyed with the young man. He shook his head, knowing these were not for the assassinations planned by the New Dawn but were meant for the people living in the doleful districts who could not afford either of the ingredients. Their tired, hopeless gazes lingered in his mind, he clenched his fist, possessed by the urge to punch himself, use the pain to sober out and walk home to rest until his shift begins in the afternoon. Still, he could not mute the faint voice whispering in the back of his mind and decided to follow Gnaeurian a bit more before giving up.

  Though by the time he decided upon it, Euthymius lost the aurhe again. He quickly rushed about looking frantically about and around. For a moment, even entertained the idea of asking directly the elderly vampyr, but gave up on the idea, realizing how foolish it would be. Instead, he strained his mind, retraced their route from the morning as last vain hope, and started navigating through the alleys, the busy lanes thronged by the many folks of the capital.

  Euthymius found Gnaeurian where their early morning task came to an end. At a small public house serving grub brought from the far-eastern province–a snow-white bread softer than what he was used to, with multitudinous fillings including some mashed, sweetened beansprout.

  He learnt that morning, its owner, a dwarf hailing from the far eastern isles sold more than exotic dishes and beverages. He also dabbled in counterfeit notes, maps of various institutions, guilds, headquarters of the Custodians and the First Legion and the Colosseum itself sitting high, near the nobilos’s district. A high ranking operative of the city’s Thieves Guild, whose shadow reached across the world. Or at least they would’ve liked people to believe that.

  At first, Euthymius stepped forth expectant of the same scene of Gnaeurian buying maybe another map, for a future mission. But stopped instead then hurried for the nearest alley where he watched from the shadows as Gnaeurian sat down, lone in a long table on the roofed verandah. One of the servitors came and at first Euthymius felt foolish, but enduring in the shadows, he watched another, an aging dwarf with curving golden strands sit down opposite. At first glance there was nothing out of the ordinary, but the more he looked, the more Euthymius sensed something weird about the way she moved.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  Thanks to Luelia’s lessons on earth and shadow Euthymius sixth sense strengthened greatly enough to perceive the unseen preternatural constituting elements and others wreathing their wishes and wills upon them, hence he felt relatively confident in his endeavors. He sensed as shadows lingered around her head, in the liminal space to be precise, forming threads. Her movements seemed normal, almost too normal the deeper he looked at her. Her movements looked awkward, as if invisible hands tightened about each of her thick limbs, guided the eloquent movements of sitting down onto the cushioned, padded bench.

  Even the layers of her yellow coat and reddish long dress cinched at the waist with silvery trims rippled strangely. Her limbs quivered with each movement and there were small gaps as she reached for the carven wooden tablet bearing the inscribed runes–the menu. The rough, parched skin on her neck formed frumpy waves and it took her a little too while to look at the servitor and utter her order with her trembling, meaty lips covered in a matte paint of chestnut brown, matching not with her fair complexion.

  When the servitor left to relay their orders, Euthymius expectantly watched, yet with each passing minute, he felt cold scorching in his stomach and he was close to giving up on the whole matter, thinking how a fool he was for mistrusting the comrades of Isocrates, and now his.

  But just as he lifted his right sole, Naghig sat beside Gnaeurian and took the satchel containing the second batch of alchemical ingredients. For a moment, he untied it and showed it to the dwarf who nodded her head a bit awkwardly. His finger’s palms pressed onto the cold marble wreathed in shadows, and though it was vague hope, let the shadows crawl up his arms, swirl about each of his hears, and a few tendrils formed shadowy outlines around his lips. Across where they sat, the shadow likewise moved according, in thinner, barely visible threads ranging up her gown and coat.

  As the dwarf looked and started speaking to the two Euthymius mimicked her lips, a breath behind, but before he could learn of anything, he nearly cried out loud from the abrupt torrent of pain. A great agony of thousand needles plunged into his brain, the sharp points of sickles scoured across his cerebrum and cranium, enough to leave deep and wide gulfs across them. He drew deep breaths, leaning against the cold wall, and noticed how his arms appeared translucent, inky a little–just like his ears and lips veiled by his cowl. Euthymius sat there, facing his own short comings, whilst the three departed.

  *****

  “Good work kid.” The honest compliments of Naghig helped not Euthymius’s growing feeling of guilt. Though for a few more weeks he ceased his following his fellow comrades after the botched attempt at a greater spell. He came to the Drunken Sphinx not just to hand in the same report about Calaviril as the previous dozens, but also to report on the arrival of the six prisoners from the north.

  “Are we going to free them?” Euthymius asked, after seeing the six prisoners including an orkh who towered above the abodes of the Glade-District.

  Naghig chuckled a little as he read his notes. Not the most eloquent letters, but they were readable after a few lessons with Aurelithae and Calaviril who looked surprised one day seeing him practice whilst waiting for her in the adventurer’s guild building.

  “No. More like enlist their aid.” Euthymius looked at him in hopes the orkh expound more on the matter, but his silence shown Naghig proving to be chary about the matter.

  “Here, there is a bonus in it!” Naghig handed him a heavy sack full of silver coins. Knowing no more he can get out from him, Euthymius thanked and left, cutting through the crowd where he stopped for a moment. Beyond the window, he noticed Calaviril skulking about the alleys, and feeling guilty enough of his distrust towards the New Dawn, he threw over his cowl, whilst turning to leave through the exit to the alley instead of the street at the front.

  There in the alley, Euthymius retreated into the dimmest part and waited there for an hour or so, so only a few drunkards remained passed and resting by the walls. He himself pretended to be one, using the hour which felt like an eternity to ease his guilt, to convince himself the New Dawn had genuine, altruistic aims like the some of the previous rebellions. First, he beckoned the shadows to hide his presence and appearance, then gently pressed his palms first against the walls of the establishment, and reached out to them, asking for their aid once more so he could climb as if he walked upon them.

  Though he could still not find the strength in himself to not crawl on four as he headed for the second floor. There he remained besides the ornate oaken frame, sharping his ears for any and all noises from within. Besides the rustling of paper as the vernal winds of Iuanrua slipped inside, there was utter silence in the dim room. Euthymius slowly and carefully opened the window before crawling inside and waiting in the darkness. There were a few thuds beyond the walls, but mostly of the waiters carrying up what remained from their servings after the day, placing them in the adjacent storage room built with enchanted bricks.

  And there was a faint caustic smell, irritating his nose, but he chalked it up to be the meat’s scent stealing in from the aisle.

  “Told you, this is not the place.” Then he froze, just as he reached the knob. Whether it was his luck, the patience to wait or simply a divine sign he wasn’t sure presently. But he heard Naghig approaching, and his beating heart told him to retreat out the window.

  “I understand, but I truly require your aid, their knowledge of the old tongues of the dead realms–how to say–quite lacking.” The second voice felt distant, muffled followed Naghig. It felt familiar, though he could not put a face or name to it, and he was sure it wasn’t because of his fear.

  “Is it so?” By the time he crawled through the frame, he made out little as the door and floor creaked in unison under the weight of the orkh. “Meet me at Proclus mansion tomorrow. I shall aid you, but next time send a messenger.”

  “I shall do so. Forgive me!” Euthymius could not help his curiosity, and reclined a little inwards, whilst still pressed hard against the wall. Even whilst cloaked by the shadows, and by the night, it was a momentary effort as the cantrip of earth element quickly ceased.

  “Hmm?” Ephraimur glided across the room soundless like a specter. By the time he reached the window, Euthymius landed on his feet, palm touching the cold ground, and he remained still, fearing the crack of his knees would alert the two to his presence.

  “Ignore him.” Naghig said coldly, whilst pulling out a sharpened knife and a log from his pouch.

  “Shouldn’t we do something about him?” Ephraimur asked.

  Through the little eyeholes of his ornate mask, he watched as Euthymius hurried across the alley, out to the streets where he disappeared, perspiration quickly enveloping his whole body. “I could make him a more efficient scout.” He claimed with hollow pride.

  “Not the time yet. Let him get close to the little princeipstir, then we shall add him to the rest.” A soft scraping filled the silence after Ephraimur vanished, curls of wood peeled away with each stroke as Naghig began to whistle.

  And another week, begins with another Euthymius chapter. A bit after his last chapter, including some chapters that hit the cutting room floor in a passing mention.

  Like the White Powder, that got mentioned in his last chapter IIRC. Though the concept itself did not fully get abandoned, instead will play a role in the third volume.

  Also him reaching his 'arkhaine limit' for the first time. A concept still a bit hard to get right with certain characters. Though remained somewhat on the avenue of overexertion, reaching for more than you could hold. A bit safe of a solution, but truth be told, worldbuilding wise, want a more soft magic system. Its one aspect of the story I'm willing to cut back on to an extent, to instead focus on characters and plot.

  Anyhow, keep the rambling short. Just add, new schedule, from now on uploads from wednesday to friday.

  Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed this chapter. Tomorrow's chapter is Terrianis's, then one more Euthymius to close off the week. Take care and have a pleasant evening or day, folks!

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