Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"As a writer about history, the eye of my time, I always try to remove my own judgement from my lines. Thanks to my somewhat unusually long life, I have been able to recognise that every emotion, every goal of our gods, of ideas, or even of us mortals, has its own path and a reason that is certain in itself. There is only one case where I fail to achieve this distance and I cannot help but categorise it as depraved, wrong and thoroughly disgusting.

The mortal races were created almost 2,100 years ago and about 110 years ago the Daumaje, the Second Great War of Creation, ended. As is well known, this was due to the departure of all ideas and many of their descendants, the children of ideas, the demigods. Peace returned to the continent of Auervam and its young peoples all found their place in it.

The elves, called Ir, once again lived in harmony with nature, from forest elves to ice elves, sea elves to hill elves, countless species, but true to their element.

The industrious dwarves, Isonal, devoted themselves to their craft, be it the mountain dwarves and their eternally glowing forges or the water dwarves and their handicrafts made of steel and glass.

The orcs, Hamazu, lived for hunting and fighting again, their shouts loud and their muscles broad.

And the humans, Auerbe, were simply scattered everywhere, more diverse than any other species.

The hunters hunted again, the knights swung their swords for honour, the farmers sowed and bards sang about all this. Kings ruled and peoples followed and all according to the rules of the ideas, each in their designated place. War was finally over and the continent of Auervam could have lived on forever in its newfound peace and perseverance.

Not such a city, an unrivalled eyesore. For there were some who discarded the hierarchy of the ideas. Those who saw the departure of our gods not as a mercy, but as a throne vacated for neighbours, for mortals. And in every tribe there were such heretics and madmen, but they were not kept there. For everyone with such depraved thoughts sooner or later found the same place, the scene of shame, the monument of iniquity.

If I could make a wish to the the ideas, a prayer truly answered, my heart would be sure. History should swallow them and forget them, not even the cloak of legends would be worthy of them. A single stain would have to be removed from this picture and concealed forever.

The so-called free and beautiful city of Badazan."

Records of Sister Lufarion,

Historian in one of the eastern temples of the Diersasi Order

approx. 110 years after the Daumaje, the second great war of creation

about the free and beautiful city of Badazan

"A temple? Here?" The man hissed the words quietly in the direction of his companion as the two of them hid deeper behind one of the large, heavy wooden crates. The stifling odour of dust and foul air made it difficult to breathe, but they tried desperately keep quiet.

"Yes, the city once had temples too? Now keep your lips still and listen to the corridor!" The slender woman stared at him admonishingly and then listened carefully again. Not a single sound could be heard in the room itself, but the bored footsteps of tired guards could be heard outside.

"It seems wrong in a place like this." The man actually stuck his head out from behind the crate and peered around the temple.

Statues of various figures covered in cobwebs and cloths sat enthroned around them, none of them showing any splendour or special impression. They were all simply wrapped up and forgotten.

With a violent jerk, his companion pulled him back behind their cover. "Are you flutter sick? No sightings, no witnesses, no blood. My instructions were that simple. You're paying me to help you with this, so you have to listen to me!"

He withdrew from her grasp and looked down at her like an annoying little sister. "You've already got half! And I want you to have the other ..."

The heavy creaking of the door immediately silenced them both, only their panicked eyes looking at each other trembling. With aimless steps, someone stepped into the room towards them, calling calmly behind them. "The detector is hitting its mark. I'll just have a look."

Immediately another voice rang out, further away and seemingly drunken in its vigour. "You and I both know that the magic in these things has long been in need of an overhaul. But our esteemed masters don't pay a single A.M.I. for it anymore. Calm down, mice sneak in here from time to time, they die quietly and by themselves."

The guard in the centre of the temple giggled and also audibly took a strong swig from a gurgling bottle. A wet smacking sound echoed through the room. "Good, but I want my concern noted. If anything is stolen from the Sandevi family, it won't be my head that rolls!" With a shuffle, he pulled himself out of the temple and the heavy wooden door slammed shut again with a thunderclap.

"Sandevi?!" The woman behind the crate didn't wait a moment. "What we're getting are documents from the Sandevi family? I said no names and not too much information. But this is different?!"

The man rose from his hiding place with a groan and smiled reassuringly at her. "Take it easy, Seroin, really. What's so bad about that? They're just like kings here, aren't they? Never stolen anything from one of them?"

The woman called Seroin now rushed right up to him and grabbed his neck, pulling her lips close to his ears. "Kings? Badazan has no kings! The Sandevi family ... they're more than that here. There's one in every council. One of their ears is waiting in every alley. Why didn't Shiverlip tell me about this?"

The man glared at Seroin with amusement for a moment, then roughly placed a hand on her shoulder. "You have vaults like kings. You have guards like kings. Same game, same profit."

Seroin jerked his hand away. "Nothing is the same here. And most newcomers, growth like yours, fail to recognise that. Badazan desecrates ... differently."

He glared angrily at his hand for a moment. "Why don't you tell me about your beautiful city as soon as we have the documents? Then we can talk to that Shiverlip. Next time, tell him to find me someone with more courage."

Seroin concentrated her breathing and stroked her face. Her narrow, still young features were already drenched in sweat and her straight, dark brown hair was beginning to come loose from its typical plait. Normally, her smooth face looked like that of a fine mask, indifferent and yet strangely handsome. As if you could take it off her and put it on less beautiful people. But now she twitched nervously.

In a few moments, she collected herself again. "Shiverlip has enough stupid people. But not many good ones. So. The papers and then out of here. I don't want to be boxed in. Up!"

The man peered briefly into her light brown, determined eyes, then nodded silently and scurried to the door. He quickly drew a dagger from a belt.

Seroin caught him just before the temple door handle. "No weapon. No dead bodies. We can't run. Are too deep in the basement of the Growth Authority. Bodies will surely be found too quickly. In addition: the Sandevis will not forgive this shame. Missing documents alone can only be noticed years later. Understood?"

He didn't even look at her, but apparently just grunted in agreement. Quickly but quietly, he pushed the door open and disappeared into the basement corridor.

The two thieves moved through the shadows with only their ears to protect them from the patrolling guards. Sometimes they scurried past them like the wind, sometimes they waited for what felt like hours behind a corner until it was safe to pass. At last they found the room they were looking for, where the man stopped happily.

"Here. Growth from the region: Rapalo steppe. We should find them there." He slipped into the room before Seroin could speak.

She hurried after him and carefully closed the door behind her. "Don't just pull open a door, don't just step on a floor slab! You don't know what to look out for here."

He was already rummaging around in a box with his hands, simply waving her words away. "Do you still have that fake light?"

Seroin puffed irritably and took out the small metal rod. At its centre was a glass vial filled with a transparent, viscous mass. Seroin turned the rod like an hourglass and as the mass slowly flowed down, warm sunlight began to pour out of it. The room became as bright as day in a single breath.

Old shelves full of books, scrolls and empty jars moulded on the walls. Above them all were wide tables covered with countless pieces of paper, signs of neglected administrative work.

The man pushed the crate in front of him aside and grabbed the next one. "Keeping watch? That could take a while."

But Seroin hurried to the pushed-away crate. "I have as much business here as you do." Her delicate fingers flicked through the countless files. "Search quietly with your eyes, our ears alone keep watch. Come on!"

The man frowned angrily, but understood the urgency of the situation. At some point, he gave a delighted snort. "I've got it. The file, here. Everything in it. I can finally find her."

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Seroin didn't even lift his head. "Missing family?"

"My daughter Tija. After my wife died of fever, she ran away and wanted to start a new life here. Now I'm bringing her home, whether she wants to or not! Then I want to leave this city soon."

"Most new women here start out as whores or barmaids, hardly any of them can last the first few weeks without booze or numbing powder. Just hope she's kept her hands off A.M.I.s. You might as well bury someone fluttersick." Seroins focussed on the files in front of her. "You're making a strong assumption she wants to go back to the barren old country. To her kings and knights and all that ancient nonsense."

The man suddenly grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. "Don't talk about my daughter like that! None of this happened to her! None of that, did you hear me?"

Seroin held her cold gaze and noticeably barely reacted to his outburst. Instead, only a soft click was heard.

The man searched her face questioningly, then his eyes wandered downwards, wavering. The muzzle of a small, compact crossbow lay directly on his chest. The steel tip of the bolt had already scratched the fabric of his shirt and gleamed like the teeth of a greedy snake.

The woman calmly took his hands off her shoulder. "I've already pulled the trigger for less. And I'm already sure of half the payment. So, do you want to be buried here? Or are we going to pull ourselves together and get out of here in one piece?"

Thick sweat dripped down his forehead, but he hardly dared to even flinch. "Both of you out of here. Excuse me..."

"Save your breath and keep your wits sharp." Seroin reholstered the weapon in one fluid movement. Then she raised her finger reprovingly. "For the way out ..."

At first she only saw it blurred, then she saw it clearly. A small, red drop shimmered on the tip of her finger. Seroin lifted her hand closer to her face and her eyes widened. "Blood..."

The man was visibly infected by her panic. "So, a paper cut? Nothing more. Just don't leave any ..."

Seroin jumped to the other end of the room and knocked over a table full of papers. Behind her newly created cover, she pressed her hands to her ears, not a breath too soon.

Instantly, a rumbling thunder sounded from the cellar corridor, shaking through all her bones and lingering in her room for a particularly long time. Thick, old dust rained down from the ceiling and the shelves shook wildly.

After a few moments, the roaring stopped and the man rubbed his aching ears. "What? What was that?"

Seroin pondered for a moment, cursed herself and jumped to him from behind her cover. With difficulty, she grabbed him under the arms and dragged him back behind the table. And not a spark too soon either.

Having just disappeared behind the thick wood of the table, a trembling crossbow bolt drilled into it. The small steel tip stuck out on the other side like an uninvited guest peering through the window.

"HERE! THEY'RE HERE!" A powerful male voice took the floor. "I need three men, now. And call the inspectors! Burglary, report a burglary!" The guard squatted down purposefully and raised the crossbow again.

Behind their cover, the man continued to rub his ears and stare at Seroin. "What, how?"

She didn't dare to come a finger's breadth from behind the wood. "Detector. Blood detector, to be precise. Their magic is accurate, better. Strikes much earlier with unknown blood. No problem if unharmed. One drop shouldn't be enough either. These must be the latest detectors!"

"What witchcraft?! And now? More are coming. Run up and stab him while he reloads?" Again, the man didn't wait for Seroin's reaction, but raised his head.

A bolt tore sharply past his face, leaving a gaping crack in his cheek.

Falling to the ground and cursing, he groped for the wound. "By Diersa?! What? He's just fired."

"Envil-Livne magic. The crossbow cocks itself back, all he has to do is insert the bolt. We're too slow from here!" Seroin grabbed out her hand crossbow and raised it jerkily above her guard. She shot blindly towards the door and cursed as she heard the bolt hit stone. She brought the crossbow back in front of her body, took out another bolt and waited. And as if of its own accord, the string of the hand crossbow pulled back to the cocked position and clicked into its holder.

"How? How powerful are you for such magic?" The man looked aghast at the small crossbow and back at Seroin's face.

The woman smirked. "Powerful? And then I do this? Pah, you can get the magic on any good corner for a few A.M.I.s!" She put in another bolt and shot blindly over her cover. Again the sound of metal on stone rang out and in response a bolt from the guard thudded into her table.

"What now? Give up?" With the eyes of a perplexed toddler, the man scrutinised her features.

Seroin looked down at the ground, her mind heated like a mighty forge fire. First, she grabbed the small metal rod that provided them with the broad sunlight down here and pocketed it. Immediately, the room became much darker and their faces were only dimly recognisable.

But the guard in front of the door kept firing, the light in the corridor was probably enough for him to see.

Seroin eagerly reached around in her pockets, paused and trusted her ears again. Footsteps, a multitude. More guards rushed closer. Metal on stone, swift step. But something else in between, something wilder. She widened her eyes and her vision confirmed her growing concern.

Her room was well dark, but a blue, twitching light hissed into it from the corridor. It breathed out like a lightning strike, no rhythm or serenity recognisable in its nature.

"MAGIC!" Seroin leapt forward and grabbed the man by the arm. She rushed with all her might to another table, knocked it over and crouched behind it.

Just as her companion opened his mouth, thunder rumbled. A blast of grotesquely writhing lightning shot across their previous cover and charred the table in a few breaths. A stinging heat took over the room and it reeked of ash and scorched paper.

"BY DIERSA! BY THE IDEAS THEMSELVES!" The man screamed and covered his ears. "We're going to die here! Burnt and dead! Diersa help me! Defala for all I care, oh you ideas help!"

Seroin now dared to peek out from behind her cover and recognised the source of the magic.

One of the guards stood sleeveless in front of the door, his thin arms still sprouting small sparks and his face weary. His companions propped him up against the wall out of Seroin's sight and they could hear his rasping, exhausted breath.

"What's a bloody mage doing as a guard for the Growth Authority? They could all be inspectors!" Seroin wiped her wet forehead, the sweat almost boiling, but she was still sane. "We're getting out of here." She grabbed her companion and pressed her hand over his mouth, stopping his incessant pleading. "But you have to be quiet, very quiet, do you understand?"

He nodded in panic. "What, are you a mage too?"

Seroin puffed a little in amusement. "Me? Then I'd already be chief inspector!" She pressed the metal rod into his hand. "When I say so, you open your fingers and raise them just a little, understand? The room needs light!" She didn't wait for his reaction, she knew he would obey. She finally found what she was so desperately looking for in her pockets and clutched it tightly in her hand. "What a load of crap! This was expensive."

She closed her eyes briefly and searched for a rhythm in the increasing number of bolts fired by the guards. Then she found her gap and began. With a firm squeeze, she crushed the small glass ball she had picked up in her hand. Her skin immediately tore under the countless tiny splinters, but she hardly cared about the pain, rather she welcomed it. The fine, glittering powder from the bead soaked into her fresh wound.

Seroin's body jerked up, an unnatural energy shooting through her blood, and just briefly she felt a power of alien worlds in her fingers. "NOW!"

The man opened his hand and lifted up the metal. Once again the room was bright and warmly lit by the artificial sunlight, every crumpled paper on the floor, every fibrous little splinter of wood casting its own miserable shadow.

Seroin jumped out and raised her fingers towards the guards, who stared at her in surprise.

It glistened from the woman's fingers and with a hiss, the feeling of incomprehensible power in her body went out. Panting and sweaty, Seroin stopped half-straight, a grin on her face.

Her companion grabbed her wrist and tried to pull her back behind the table. "The bolts!"

But Seroin pulled him to his feet instead and grinned wider. "No more of that. Now we can get out of here." Wearily, she raised her hand and pointed at the guards outside the door.

There were four of them, some standing, others kneeling, but all holding their loaded crossbows ready in their direction. The will to shoot, to kill, adorned all their faces.

Her companion flinched, then understood. "You ... they are not moving?"

Seroin nodded. "Iwika magic. Magic in a sphere. Single use and not cheap. A small dose, but our friends here are frozen where they are for now." She checked her hand, from which blood continued to flow. The shards of glass had hurt her badly. "Expensive, that was bloody expensive."

Her companion dared to take a step towards the guards. "They are stunned? Caught on the spot. What a miracle!" He turned round with a laugh and clapped his hands. "What magic! Hahaaa."

Seroin grinned tiredly and pulled her scarf over her mouth. "Stronger doses of Iwika paralyse the victim for days, almost turning them into a corpse. This is a joke compared to that. Nevertheless. Get out of here quickly, because it won't last long. And they shouldn't remember our faces and voices too well. Come on."

But the man simply strutted over to the guards, his features unobscured and twisted into malicious glee. "Why take the risk at all! What's to stop such power?" He bared his dagger again and before Seroin could shout anything, he rammed the blade straight into the first guard's heart.

The guard jerked up once, a last breath squeezed out of his lungs, then he fell over dead.

Seroin heaved a defeated sigh. "I said no bodies. Not here." Bagged, she ran out into the corridor to join him. The wavering light of the torches was almost too dark for her eyes.

"So what's to stop us? We can stop everything and everyone, face everything and everyone! That was ... unbelievable!" With a burning euphoria, he stabbed the next guard to death.

Meanwhile, Seroin searched the pockets of those who had already been stabbed. "Not even A.M.I.s in them. Nice pay for working here."

After the man had stabbed all four paralysed guards like tied calves, he turned to the last one. It was the sleeveless mage who was now cowering against the cellar wall, groaning and filled with fear, too weak to move.

"Magic takes strength if you're not practised." Seroin walked over to them and scrutinised the guard on the ground. Its gaze begged silently, he seemed too weak even to speak. "You're not that good at it, are you? Didn't seek training from the inspectors?"

The guard shook his bald head barely perceptibly, his gaunt features already making her look like a corpse. His gaze was fixed solely on the man and his dagger, which was already soaked in deep red.

"It would have been better. You don't attack inspectors so thoughtlessly. In the worst case, they'll call a G.M.E. And nobody in Badazan wants their attention." She turned to her companion. "You have your papers. But if we fight our way out of here, if they come looking for us together, remind me again of your name. I at least want that insurance and not to go through this with a stranger."

The man grinned greedily, not taking his eyes off the guard in front of him on the ground. "Polbin. Just like my father. Honourable name from the ideas themselves ..."

The bolt buried itself trembling in the back of his head. The man jumped up once more, a cough escaping his lips, then he fell to the ground dead beside the guard. It was reminiscent of a bird trying one last, desperate flap of its wings as the arrow hit its heart.

Seroin clicked her tongue and watched her crossbow as it slowly re-cocked. "Polbin. I'll forgo the other half of the payment. It's not worth the wrath of the Sandevi family to me." She turned to the guard. "You heard right. Sandevi. I'm packing up their documents here and I'd like to take them out with me. Whatever he has in his pockets, keep it. But I'm taking my papers with me."

Slowly, she bent down to the weakened man and calmly placed her crossbow on his chest. With the skill of a trickster, she conjured another bolt into it. "So. Seems to me ONE person broke in here and tried to steal ONE file, right? That's all. One man alone. Just a stupid growth. Maybe one of the gang called Young Harvest, they're so careless. And you heroically caught and stopped him, avenging the deaths of your colleagues. I'm sure you'll get a few more A.M.I.s on your next payment for that, won't you?"

She tilted her head and her light brown eyes now gleamed like drops of poison on the teeth of a viper. "And it's impossible to secure all the papers down there, impossible after your use of magic. But by YOUR rough estimate, every file is actually there, just partially burnt, right?"

The guard gasped once and nodded hastily to Seroin.

"Then you saw it the same way I did. Very good, clever man." She lifted herself to her feet again and checked the papers in her bag. She had everything. "By the way. Not a bad spell. Really. I assume you're growth and not born here. Try the inspector training. Better pay and a lot more rights. Plus you'll always have the good G.M.E.s behind you. That would be something. Unless you get stupid ideas and remember the wrong things down here, but I don't think so, do you?"

He shook his head convulsively, every movement whipping pain through his body.

Seroin patted his bald head. "That's what I thought. Don't forget who reminded you of the right thing down here." She then looked at her dead companion once more. "Welcome to Badazan Polbin."