When Jarek woke up, he didn't know if it had been only a few minutes or several hours, but he was sure of one thing, no one had come here. He was still alive, which was sufficient proof.

The sun still lit up the now-ruined room he was in, so he assumed he had been unconscious for no more than 2 hours.

He quickly examined his body and, it was without surprise, he could only note his pitiful state. His multiple wounds had all stopped bleeding, but that didn't mean he was healed, on the contrary, he could barely stand and walk. Every movement was a torture, his muscles tetanized, his breath heavy and irregular.

"Tch... I really came close to death this time." he blew, a bitter smile on his lips.

Using the walls, he moved slowly into the room, his shuffled steps echoing in the silence. His gaze landed on the bag containing Anton and Markus' lifeless heads as well as the artifacts and sacred weapon.

"Hmph. That's what I came for..."

He tightened the strap of the bag with a grimace, his still bruised flank tearing him out a slenderness with each gesture. The two heads rolled inside with a thud, clashing with the recovered artifacts and the sacred weapon. Just by carrying this weight, he felt his balance threatened.

He cast a last glance around him. The room was nothing more than a tomb of extinguished flames and cracked stones.

Gathering his strength, he left the building in ruins. The sun blinded him for a moment, forcing him to squint. The outside air, charged with dust and ash, entered his lungs like a burn. He breathed in deeply, resting his bag on his shoulder, then began the long march towards the Assassin's quarter.

Each step was an ordeal. His unsteady gait left behind a trail of dry blood and dust. Several times, his legs flexed, and he had to lean against a wall or a trunk to not collapse. But he was still moving forward. Ready to face the next challenges that awaited him.

After what seemed to him to be hours, the dark silhouettes of the walls of the Order of Assassins were drawn in the distance. Jarek clenched his teeth, an almost satisfied grin crossing his sweaty face.

The interior of the building, as usual, was dark and an unpleasant sensation was emitted.

Jarek went directly to the reception of the Order, without caring for a single second of the curious looks that pierced him from all sides. At the same time, with these half-burned and blood-dyed clothes as well as his face almost as white as a cloth, no one could look away from this walking corpse moving in this room.

The hostess standing behind the desk seemed to be Kellia, the young woman he had seen, the day Eskarn spoke to her.

"I have finished my mission..." He articulated with difficulty.

The young woman hesitated to ask him questions but restrained herself when she glanced into his. He hadn't said anything, but the glint in Jarek's eyes had made it clear to him that no questions could be asked.

It is therefore by keeping silence that Kellia took out a sheet of paper and began to write a few words that Jarek did not even take the time to read, he simply placed his bloody bag on the desk and took the purse of coins that Kellia handed to him and returned directly to his room.

His bag now lightened of its macabre content, Jarek dragged his carcass to his room. The corridor leading to the private quarters of the assassins had never seemed so long. Each step knocked in his temples like a war drum, each breath scraped his throat.

When he finally pushed the door of his room, the old board creaked so hard that he thought it was going to tear off its hinges. She was already hanging, half unhooked, as if the slightest gust of wind could tear her away for good.

The interior, as he was already getting used to it, was no more welcoming. The desk, probably overturned for several weeks, had never been straightened. The plateau still lay on the ground, covered in dust and dark spots that he had never bothered to clean. The bed, wobbly, creaked when he let himself fall on it, its springs screaming under its weight. The small window, a narrow half-broken loophole, allowed a stream of icy air to pass through the entire room.

A bitter smile escaped him.

"... I had almost missed this room."

He didn't need more. His body, emptied of all energy, sank him into a heavy sleep, almost comatose.

...

When he opened his eyes again, the light had already turned. The sun was no longer at its zenith: it was the afternoon of the next day. His throat was dry, his mouth pasty, and each movement awakened a chorus of pain. He stayed for a moment lying down, his eyes fixed on the cracked ceiling, simply trying to reconnect with reality.

Finally, he forced himself to move. His shirt was stuck to his skin by the dried blood. With a grunt, he snatched it from him with a sharp blow, revealing his badly closed wounds, some still bloated, others raw. He opened his canvas bag, placed at the foot of his bed, pulled out a roll of rough bandages and took a chipped basin lying on the ground that he filled as well as he could with tepid water.

No potion. He didn't have any left. Only his hands and patience.

He began by cleaning his wounds. The rasping cloth tore from him muffled growls, but he continued, tirelessly. The dried blood peeled off in patches, the pain made him sweat heavily. Every time he clenched his teeth, his jaw cracked.

Then he wrapped the bandages, squeezing just enough to keep the wound closed without cutting off his breath. His chest soon disappeared under white layers quickly stained with red. His arms, his flanks, even his ribs, nothing was intact.

He sat down for a moment on his bed, catching his breath. The room stank of blood and he was withdrawn. But strangely, he felt more alive than the day before. Not healed, not rested, but standing. And for him, it was enough.

He took a few moments to think. The reason he had come to this city was to steal the records of members of the Order of Assassins, and now they were in his possession, not in the way he thought, but the result was the same. He had the register.

At first glance, he therefore no longer had any reason to stay here, however a detail could not leave his mind.

He put his hand in the lining of his boot and took out a small round object, as big as a coin. A button of obsidian, polished to reflect the light, adorned in its center with an engraved eye, so thin that it looked as if he was actually staring at it.

Jarek made him roll between his fingers, his gaze darkening.

"Tch... you, huh." he blew.

This piece of stone surely didn't matter, but Jarek couldn't help but stare at it, why did he find it in his room? To whom did it belong? What was it used for?

Jarek had spent hours spinning these questions around in his mind, his attention oscillating between that damn button and the register. Sitting on his creaking bed, his back hunched, his hands still stained with dried blood, he started at the pile of leaves in his right hand and the little button in the other. He finally had it, which is why they came. The goal for which they had risked their lives in this cursed city.

And yet, he felt neither satisfaction nor relief. Only an additional weight on his shoulders. It was not for him to judge alone.

"Hmph... quite thoughtful." he said as he stood up, clenching his teeth at the pain of his bandaged ribs.

He pulled down his hood and left the room without a glance back. The corridors of the Order of Assassins were deserted, but he still felt on his neck the gravity of their glances, of their suspicions. Staying here too long would be a mistake.

The night had enveloped Ceston when he sank into the alleys. The cobblestones still gleamed from the moisture of the day, the flickering lanterns illuminating intermittently its teetering shadow. Despite the fatigue that gnawed at him, he made his way to a more discreet inn, away from the main square, where he knew how to find Nerris.

The place contrasted with the filth of her own room: clean walls, oiled boards, soft rumour of muffled conversations.

His gaze quickly found her. Seated by a window, Nerris observed the street with a thoughtful look, a half-full mug in front of her. Her hair fell on his shoulders, and in her upright posture, he understood that she had not stopped watching, waiting.

He approached slowly, pulling the chair in front of her in a discreet creak. Nerris looked up and his face slightly tensed as he saw Jarek's condition: his bandages visible under his shirt half-open, his features drawn, his pallor. But she says nothing, waiting for him to speak.

Jarek placed the register on the table, the paper marked by time, and tapped it with his damaged fingers.

"This is what we came for," he said in a husky voice.

The silence lasted for a moment between them, only disturbed by the discreet hubbub of the room.

Nerris touched the pile with his fingertips, his eyes shining with a relieved and worried glow.

"You found it..." she whispered.

Jarek nodded.

"Not in the way I had planned. But we have it."

Curious, Nerris couldn't help but ask the question that burned in her lips. "So, did you discover something?"

Jarek shook his head, crossing his arms, his dark gaze resting on the register.

"No. I haven't opened it yet."

She raised an eyebrow, surprised.

"Are you kidding? After everything we've been through?"

"Believe me," Jarek retorted, letting out a tired breath, "when you collapse half dead, the last thing you think of is reading a damn pile of dust-covered leaves."

Nerris stared at him for a moment, then his expression softened. She understood. The simple fact that he was there, in his state, must have been a miracle.

He pushed the register towards her, his callous fingers brushing against the many leaves connected together by a simple string.

"We open it together. As planned."

Nerris breathed deeply, nodding her head. She pulled the notebook towards her and, with a measured gesture, lifted the first page. A smell of old paper and dried ink immediately escaped, a harsh reminder of the forbidden archives.

The first pages were carefully written, each line in a fine and precise writing. Names, dates, places. All those who had sworn allegiance to the Order of Assassins, recorded with chilling meticulousness.

Nerris scanned the first lines, her eyes quickly running over the columns. Then she stopped, her breath hanging.

"Look at this...," she whispered as she turned the register slightly towards Jarek.

He narrowed his eyes, following the line she pointed at with her finger. The name written there made his insides twitch. Not because he knew him intimately, but because he had already heard this name, somewhere, in a rumor or a hushed conversation.

Jarek clenched his jaw.

« Damn... Even those who went up are still recorded in this register.»

After having meticulously scrutinized each page from top to bottom for several tens of minutes, Nerris closed the register again, as if all their efforts, all their expectations had been in vain.

"Not a single trace of him... Not a single mention, on any line."

Jarek sat back in his chair, arms crossed, staring at the mug untouched in front of her.

"Damn... So we will have done all this for nothing."

Thinking that they had missed something, Nerris reopened the register with a bang and reread each page one by one without pausing.

"Damn, this guy is really a ghost, they have dozens of information on each of the members who joined them, but he doesn't even appear? Even you who have only been there for a few days, you already have a full page filled with your name, whereas he doesn't? What the hell is this?

Letting a slight sigh escape from his mouth, Jarek looked at Nerris with a resigned look. "Back to square one. I don't think we'll learn any more here."

Nodding his head, Nerris looked at him for a moment and stood up. "You're right, we'd better go back to Grimpoint, maybe we'll find another track with the Order of Mercenaries."

Saying nothing, Jarek simply stood up and followed him.

They quickly left the building in which they were and quickly headed towards Grimpoint, saying goodbye to Ceston, the city that had given them so much hope and disappointment in such a short time.

Next chapter will be updated first on this website. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.