Chapter 1

Inescapable Reality

He knew he was still alive since the men's voices echoed faintly inside his throbbing head. Pain was stabbing him in the back of his neck and his muscles were stiff from a prolonged unconsciousness. He opened his eyes and blinked furiously, his eyesight adjusting to a brightly lit chamber with sunlight pouring from tall arched glass windows and a radiant glass dome above.

A small table occupied the middle of the room and a flimsy looking cupboard adorned the opposite wall. The two men that had attacked him were looking at him with what looked like cautious curiosity and apprehension. The bearded brute was standing up with his hands in his pockets and the man with the gruff voice was sitting down at the table. A beam of light partly obscured his face, while dust motes whirled silently in the air.

Hilderich lay in a small stone cot carved into the recess of a far wall. The cot felt uncomfortable and his body protested slightly to his efforts at moving. He flexed his arms and legs momentarily, and realized he was not bound or restrained in any way. Puzzlement showed on his face, and then the man who had bested him in the alleyway addressed him:

"You were out for almost a day. I am sorry we had to take somewhat extreme measures, but we had to make sure you disappeared properly. Giving us the run did not help, so we had to make it look like you were being mugged. Hence the terrible headache you must be having. I apologize for being rather rough," the man's voice gruff but genuinely polite, almost friendly. His words were followed by a faint smile and what seemed like a condescending nod.

"Dunno if that put any sense innim though," the bearded man grumbled under his breath audibly enough, regarding Hilderich with a look akin to contempt.

"Philo ... Please," said the man in the friendly voice who appeared to be the better of the brutish red-haired man, someone in authority of some sort.

Hilderich noted the brute's name was Philo and watched him for a moment, as he made a snorting sound and then crossed his hands across his chest. He then leaned against a wall and quietened down, as the other man had requested. The polite man with the coarse voice continued:

"My friend here thinks you are somewhat dim and unforgivably naive for a place like Pyr. That remains to be seen. I think you will prove to be very useful indeed, no matter what the initial appearances suggest," said the man, eyes level with Hilderich's who was now sitting upright on the small cot.

"Who are you people? I thought you wanted to kill me, and be done for. You said you wanted to make it look like I was mugged? Why would you want to make me disappear? Why am I here?", the look on Hilderich's face was contorted with eyebrows that almost touched each other. His puzzlement was now even more evident than before.

"Again, I apologize. My name is Amonas and this, as you must know already, is Philo. Let's leave it at that for now. There are things I can and things I cannot explain to you, at least for the time being. You had to disappear because you were at risk of being found by people with an agenda quite different than ours, one that you'd certainly have found to be at least disagreeable. Once I make myself clear you will understand our course of action was necessary for more significant reasons, as well as for your protection. Soon enough, you will need to reach a decision."

"What kind of decision? Am I being threatened? You did not bind my hands. Am I being held as a prisoner? What exactly do you want with me?"

"You are in no way a prisoner. We just needed to talk to you in safety. Please, hear what I have to say first before you jump to any wrong conclusions and make up your mind in haste. It is a matter of grave importance, and it involves the keystone in your possession."

Amonas' tone carried a hint of pleading and urgency, his words almost becoming jarred against each other. At the mention of the keystone, Hilderich was left wide-eyed.

"Aye, we knew," Philo added, casting a severe look upon Hilderich.

They knew? Since when? The thoughts kept rushing through his mind. What should he ask and what he might reveal that he should not troubled him. Was there indeed real danger here? Were they telling him the truth? Was he being safeguarded? He instinctively reached for the chain on his belt but it was not there. They had taken it. They had taken the keystone. Had he failed already? Was there a point to all this? His face took on an expression of silent horror, mouth frantically opening and closing without a sound coming out, like a fish out of the water, the spasms of death upon it.

Hilderich shouted in a trembling voice that could have been mistaken for a shriek:

"Give it back! Thieves! You are nothing but common thieves!"

He was standing upright now, his head frantically turning from Amonas to Philo and back, casting looks of urgent accusation, wide-eyed and tense. He regained a measure of self-control, and clasped his hands together as if pleading for mercy. He closed his eyes and said in a clear, level voice:

"Please. Give it back. It is not of any significant worth as a gem. I can pay you in good time, I can make arrangements. But please, give me back the stone."

Hilderich had lied flat out to them for being able to arrange some sort of payment. Everything he owned he carried on his person and that much was the extend of his fortune. He hoped his bluff might work.

Amonas and Philo were exchanging dumbstruck looks with Hilderich's outburst having caught them by complete surprise. When they both seemed to be trying to answer, all they could do was break into a hearty fit of laughter. Philo while still laughing, managed to speak:

"Thieves! And the... 'Please'? Listen to how that sounds, lad."

Amonas cut in with a motion of his hand and took a beleaguered Hilderich by the arm. A calming, reassuring voice issued from his mouth:

"Fear not. We mean you no harm. We consider you a friend, and if you'd choose so, a brother as well. The keystone is safely with me, I have it on my person. Here," and Amonas unclasped his cloak to reveal the keystone and chain safely tucked away in a pocket on his leather bodice, the chain firmly attached to a ringed metal belt.

The sight of the keystone calmed Hilderich somewhat, but he still seemed uneasy, willing to protest. His eyes darted around, a look of hurt feelings and pride in his eyes:

"What kind of friend hunts you down, knocks you out, and then robs you of your most valuable possessions?"

"Your new ones do, at least the first time around. Please, listen to me Hilderich. We know about what happened to your master. It pains me as well, I knew Olom personally."

Amonas let that sink in a bit, recalling a few memories of his own, and then carried on:

"There is trouble brewing ahead in the Outer Territories. What happened that night at your curatorium was neither singular nor a chance event. The keystones from curatoriums around the Territories are being stolen, and sometimes curators try to put up a fight. In some cases, like yours and your master's, there are deaths involved. The timing is too perfect to be a mere coincidence. We cannot yet ascertain exactly who is orchestrating this, but we have a pretty good idea."

Amonas glanced sideways at Philo, who nodded knowingly.

"You knew my master? Do you have any proof of that? Who is 'we'? Are you some sort of group? An organization? A cult? What is the Curatoria doing about this? I wouldn't like to attract your ire, but I can't exactly think a man who kidnaps people to 'have a talk' as trustworthy."

Hilderich showed his distrust even by the creases in his forehead. The people in front of him indeed seemed to him to make little sense and what he had heard so far felt very thin indeed.

"I knew him and loved him dearly. I'll show you proof if that's what will gain us your trust, soon enough. We are not a cult, Hilderich. We might be many things, but a cult we're not. You could call us a group, perhaps. We call ourselves Kin. Or Brotherhood of Old. Or Old-folk. We come by many names. Some help us stay hidden, some help us raise support. Your support, for instance."

Hilderich's face looked incredulous at best, right on the edge of laughing in disbelief:

"You want my support? And this is how you go about asking people for their support? Ganging up on them in the middle of the street? Support for what? Clubbing more people in the head?!", Hilderich's tone emphasised how incredulous this all seemed to him. Philo seemed especially displeased with his tone and remarks, while Amonas stayed calm and resolute, determined to make his point.

"We want your support in order to claim back our lands, overthrow the tyranny of the Castigator and expose the hateful lie that is Pantheon."

Amonas words came out like the rush of an unstoppable river, ready to wash away everything that might dare to stand in its path. He sounded earthly solid and unyielding, utterly determined and deadly serious. Hilderich was too impressed to actually register what the man had just said.

"Well, that is ... Did you just ... But, that's heresy! And high treason!"

Hilderich almost stammered the words aloud, unable to contain his shock, while Amonas replied in kind:

"Heresy is nothing but the leash that binds our blind brethren. Treason is the act of paying tribute to false gods, letting our Kin of Old fade like ghosts with nothing left for them to haunt..."