Aurelithae stood in the epicenter of the Drunken Sphinx, listened onto the cacophony of the plebeian winding down after a long day of work. Beyond that, she focused on the little noise, the secrets a few uttered whilst tipsy, fearless or oblivious to the consequences. A few slaps reached her strained ears, followed by the yells of the waitresses, and by the false promises of drunkards being thrown out to meander to the next tavern ready to take them in.

  Not long after another session with Grimslaukh came about its end, Typhaon scurried across the shadows, and informed her on Mirayroth and Proclus wishing to see her in regards of a delicate matter needing to be carried out. First, she expected something bigger after the dozens of small tasks piled up during the passing years. Assassinations of corrupt officials, stealing potions, ingredients and delivering them to the lower districts to counter the efforts of the Order. And many others, that slowly bored her, but carried out with a smile, for Euthymius’s sake.

  Once she grew bored of standing in the middle, she headed to the table of the ones thrown out, ordered a meal, even though neither of her vessel required it. Aurelithae fidgeted around with her luncheon meat of an avian monster closely related to the namesake of the tavern. Thick condiment formed a viscous layer atop the brownish, roasted skin, giving off a bit sour, bitter taste that ruined her mood a little. She still continued listening to the grievances of a few patrons, whilst munching on the food.

  The loudest simply voiced their tiredness in the quarries, the various shops and stalls around the streets, often mentioning the lurking, lingering fear that the Harrowing left in them. Dumath herself manifested in her mind’s eye, and listened with half a grin on her lips. Right then, a pleasant tickle coursed through her being, elevating her mood by an ant’s step. The thought of her legacy looming over the small folk excited Dumath which itself like some infection, spread within Aurelithae. The reason for this sudden excitement strayed far from her, her sole guess being that dread often led folk to worship the dreaded. Simply in hopes of being spared, left alone.

  A foolish hope that led her attention focus on to the lesser volumes again. People who had more to hide with their grievances. Folks whose fear evolved into discontentment towards the Imperial Officials. Be it the praetors riding on their multitudinously colorful dragons, those in the golden panoplies of the First Legion and the Aurorian Custodiir who upheld order for centuries. Yet presently failed to even stifle the growing cult and the New Dawn, nor fared better with the common criminals ailing the lower districts, mugging the honest folk of their little earnings. The adventurers themselves were held in higher regard than the custodians or the legionaries.

  And they had little clue on the plans of the Imperial Family to repair the crumbling illusion of a peaceful world, or at least a peaceful capital. People still disappeared, though only in seldom since The Harrowing. Angura made his best efforts to pin it on the remains of Dumath’s cult whom both Officials and the New Dawn hunted across the isles. Yet as she learnt from Naghig, his personal disciples whom he groomed throughout his ascent in the Order’s ranks, simply recommenced their efforts of acquiring materials for the Talos Endeavour.

  Aurelithae herself found it strange that Mirayroth and Grimslaukh haven’t capitalized on this yet. She had a mild suspicion they aimed to lift the veil, spread the word either before or during the gladiatorial games. She believed it could easily spark an uprising within the capital at least, though the longer she mulled on it, the less good the idea seemed. “Timing is of the essence.” Dumath chimed in, sensing her thoughts whilst a wide grin stretched beneath her dainty draconic snout. “Now is not the time to be infected by impatience of the lesser kindred.”

  Aurelithae agreed internally finishing her meal. As she listened more, the fear of the whispering patrons highlighted the folly of her earlier thought. Many retracted their hushed curses aimed at her family, fearing retaliation from Terrianis. A fear not completely unfounded, as her father still kept a vigilant, distant gaze over the city. Though he refrained peering into taverns, brothels, where instead Sussuovar’s agents mingled amongst the plebeian. A few times she overheard the two talk about disappearing unruly folk who seemed to held sway over the folks. Before the New Dawn, still she had no doubt Sussuovar kept his eyes and ears too upon the populace.

  There were still many–even amongst the patrons–who retracted their curses specifically aimed at her family in fear of retaliation. Terrianis to an extent kept watch over the city, but not this much Aurelithae thought whilst frowning down at her plate as she swept up the last of the sauce with the last of her bread – perfectly calculated to finish both in tandem.

  Aurelithae frowned down at her plate, swept the last of her bread across its slanting wooden surface, soaking it in the last of the sauce. Whilst it strayed far from her tastes, she hated wasting things. Behind her, the mild groan of the door drawn her attention to it, dampened somewhat by the tavern clamor. She stared at Euthymius standing there for a second, draped in a voluminous dark brown tunic with yellowish trims, a shawl snaked around his neck tight, a cowl drawn over his head, casting soft shadows upon his tired face.

  Seeing his face deep in thought, sweeping above the heads, deterred Aurelithae from calling out to him, she remained content observing his jostling adroitly across the throng of people clashing, a few recognizing him. Miners who smile dumbly at him, before letting him on after he parts a few words with them. The further he moves, the better he gets at evading the abrupt, small movements of the drunken folk, then stopped right at the counter.

  Aurelithae watched as he leapt onto the chair, leaning over, whispered into the ear of the Faun bartender who nodded twice. She needed not to ponder long what words he imparted into the sharp ears beneath the black velvety fur. From behind, the faun returns with a burly, feline demikin of dark, lush mane growing all over its body, except the prognathous face, exposing the rubbery smooth fair skin beneath.

  “You should have left him to die.” Dumath deep voice rang through her mind, drawing out all the others around her.

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  “What makes you say that? He is a worthy asset, may even surpass his brother.” Aurelithae responded, her mental voice laced in doubt. There was something in his gaze that made her feel uncertain, and though she paid little attention to him on their tasks, now thinking back she began to notice a bit of dishonesty the way he spoke or behaved after they stole the scroll.

  “He carries the blood of a great warrior and a magus, but like his brother, the fool, he lacks the necessities to contend the Flow of Fate.” Dumath answered appearing right beside her, sitting on the counter pane, her long legs melded into the seamless, bold oaken floor drenched in a multitude of beverages. “He knows that too. When the time comes, hesitate not to tear out his heart.”

  Before Aurelithae could reply, an intrusive jolt faltered her tongue and lips. In an abrupt manner, like a dam breaking down, flooding a whole city it hung over, an awareness crawled into her mind. Within the tavern, she comprehended a hidden portal leading her to the tunnel wedged betwixt the Folds of Reality, ending right where the two awaited her, now ready with their preparations.

  “Can one grow accustomed to such intrusions?” She murmured the rhetoric question, her voice drowned by the crowd’s equally jolly and sour cacophony.

  Aurelithae arose slow from the chair, pulling it towards the wall. She gently straightened out her colorful outfit consisting of a short, thin coat with a collar protruding from the elevated neck, resembling a twisting funnel with its peculiar embossment, a style similar to fluting but in softer, textile form. Its front seemingly wrapped together, in reality the mana infused threads mingled, bound together not too strongly.

  Beneath it, she wore a scanty piece of a tunic, with the neck circling around just a millimeter above her chestline, its trims golden against the bold red, almost as her own hair.

  Two steps in towards her destination, Aurelithae stopped and entered a meditative state. She knew it was not the best of times, but the urge came recalling the parting words of Grimslaukh. The ones which brought a little hope, this next task might be a step forward.

  For a moment she sensed the emanating constituents of the prima materias belonging to Motion, Flow, and Perception. As she tapped into the Seed of Authority lingering in a deeper fold of her anima. She felt as if feelers, tendrils crawled and grappled onto these elusive, even incomprehensible and intangible elements of reality to most if not any and all mortals. Nearly her focus broke as she momentarily pondered if Terrianis could sense these. But refocusing, she beckoned them in a still, primordial tongue and when she opened all her eyes, an eerie, but expected stillness ceased the world around her–both in the tavern and the Keep.

  “You speak of death quite easily, when it comes to others. Makes me wonder if you truly comprehend your own doom?” The words just flown, the second they parted, regret followed them. A burning sensation manifested in her chest; frustration brought by her own foolishness.

  Dumath manifested before her, her ethereal hands wrapped tight around her throat. A tear welled in her eye, as something crumbled within her. Her eyes, her own eyes seared with anger. “Speak such foolish words again, and I shall take the reins, be I damned to incur His wrath.” Then it all vanished in a second. Her anger, her glare and her manifestations, replaced by a demikin approaching Aurelithae.

  Without a word, he shown her the rest of the way, led her into a small room where Naghig awaited. “It’s a fine night, isn’t it?”

  “Could be better.” The orkh said laconically, finishing another of his wooden sculpture of a praetor clad wholly in splendorous panoply. “Come, they are waiting for you.” Naghig wasted no breath, with a snap opened up the wall, revealing a twisting tunnel lit by sputtering torches.

  At the end of the tunnel, Mirayroth and Proclus awaited. The dark-furred demikin in sumptuous articles, each a bold shade of red, blue and purple, golden stripes stretching across their edges, forming lanes, in their centers old runes of fortune embroidered in the lustrous threads of velvet. Mirayroth on the other hand wore only his snow white and black trimmed skirt with many refined folds and a band stretching up to his waist, covering most of the scars adorning his wiry chest. Upon a deeper look, some scars shifted into the black scales in the dimly lit room, the same ones adorning his gaunt, tapering face, though much more chaotic in arrangements, shapes as if they were surgical scars.

  Aurelithae kept the discovery from being written upon her face, nor she voiced the marked change in Mirayroth’s presence. A more profound cold leaked from him, one pleasant, shrouding the menace behind a mask of serenity. The shadows deepened all in his immediate vicinity, seemed alive and jovial once they devoured the meager light entering from behind her and Naghig.

  “Welcome! Excuse me for the sight.” Mirayroth remained seated, his ankles crossed, his arms resting atop his thighs whilst his elbows remained close towards his hips. He maintained calm, but Aurelithae still sensed a bit of sourness in his tone, ashamed of showing the scars earned not in battles.

  Proclus bowed in a feline greeting laced with his ancestors’ pride and grace. “What shall be my task this night?”

  “Oh, wasting no time.” Proclus noted in a haughty tone of his. “A task, outwardly appearing simple, trifle even, but it is dire and one we can rely only on your aid your highness.” Then added, assuming a more genial cadence.

  “Ever heard of the Oubliette your late grand-uncle erected?” Aurelithae nodded at Mirayroth’s question.

  “Heard it is not of a mundane prison, an architectural and arkhaine marvel achieved by him, though I see not how I could be of aid?” She asked, knowing full well the place was found not in the common Fold of Reality where most if not all mortals existed. Where their cities, empires sprawled across the lands known and yet to be discovered, where they waged their wars, feuded in times of peace so their skills, muscles, armors and weapons rusted not as time marched onwards.

  “On the contrary, you have the greatest chance of entering the complex.” Mirayroth’s words brought confusion into her head. Confusion vanished by the next set of words pouring out from his mouth. “Though failure comes at a greater cost, discovery shall likely reveal your loyalties not just to your siblings, but Terrianis too.”

  “It is in the Radiant Keep.” The others nodded in unison as Aurelithae uttered the words in a husky tone, realizing and seeing Typhaon leave the room, informed himself right at the same moment.

  “Though the task is itself relatively simple for your skills in the arts of maghia. We need you to plant a wayfinder rune in an object, a metallic sphere found in the bowels of the Oubliette where the essences of greater beings stir restless.” Mirayroth said.

  In the past, Aurelithae would have pondered on the matter. Contemplate her chances, ask for a few days to go through the grimoires in the libraries of the Radiant Keep. Presently, no doubt lingered or even formed within her heart or mind. With a confident look, she promised success to Mirayroth looking a little doleful. Once egressed from the tavern, she surveyed the passing people before vanishing in the darkness of the alley, hiding her secondary vessel in an underground chamber provided by Grimslaukh.

  And another one. A chapter that was a bit longer but sliced in two. So it became a bit of a filler.

  Part of the choice was to lengthen out the upload of this volume, the other part is that I rearranged the timeline a little bit, in regards of one of the characters showing up in this chapter.

  Also wanted to expand a bit on the slow nature of this 'revolution', why some people hesitate to force change, reveal one facet of their reluctance to speak up, grab weapons.

  Though I feel bad wasting an Aurelithae chapter on it, but this night will also be important for her, which will come in the second part, in her sneaking into the Oubliette. Which will be the first chapter of next week. For tomorrow though, the answer to Mirayroth's new presence will be revealed in the light of the Lunarius.

  Thank you for reading this chapter, hope you all enjoyed it. Till tomorrow, take care and have a pleasant evening or day, folks!

  Twitter || || ||