Eldritch Guidance

The city of Seevy was draped in a veil of darkness as the night began its slow descent. At its heart lay the sprawling estate of the Roxsis family, a testament to both grandeur and former glory. The estate was a marvel of opulence, boasting intricate architecture, lush gardens, and halls adorned with treasures from an era long past. Yet, it was more than just a symbol of luxury; it was a fortress.

Its formidable walls, scarred by time and history long before the current conflict, whispered tales of an age when Seevy was the capital of a proud dominion ruled by the Roxsis family. Back then, the estate was a seat of power, commanding respect and fear in equal measure. But that era crumbled when the region fell to the armies of Gix, reshaping Seevy from a capital city into just another of the many large cities within the Gix Empire.

Now, the estate stood as both a relic and a monument—a reminder of the Roxsis family's former glory and the turbulent times that had reshaped their world.

Salo Roxsis, the current head of the Roxsis family, stood in his stately office, an aura of quiet satisfaction radiating from him. Like many nobles of Gix, Salo was deeply entangled in the ongoing civil war, each scheming for the throne to solidify their power. Yet, tonight, the ceaseless machinations of political ambition were set aside. His mind was elsewhere, consumed by a rare and genuine happiness.

Today marked his daughter’s birthday, and the celebration had been nothing short of extraordinary. The festivities, meticulously planned, had dazzled guests and delighted his daughter beyond his expectations. The performers he’d hired had outdone themselves, captivating the crowd with their artistry. Salo was confident that this display of wealth and splendor would not only elevate his standing among the noble houses but also reaffirm his influence within the region.

As he gazed out the grand window of his office, the distant lights of Seevy twinkled like stars scattered on the ground. The city was alive, but at this moment, Salo’s world felt centered here, within his estate, amid the echoes of laughter and applause still lingering in the halls below.

Turning away from the window, his eyes fell upon the room’s other occupant. Reclining in one of the office’s plush chairs, exuding an air of playful nonchalance, sat a man clad in flamboyant red circus master’s attire. A tall top hat rested on his head, completing the vivid ensemble. This was Patches, the master of the Wanderlust Circus, whose performers had so thoroughly charmed the crowd.

Salo: “I must say, Mr. Patches, your performers outdid themselves. Everyone who visited today was absolutely enamored with your show. The spectacle they put on was amazing.”

Patches: “I’m glad it was to your liking, my lord. Please give my regards to Madam Jill for recommending me to you.”

Salo: “Ah, yes. I should reward her when I have time. Anyway, In front of you is your promised payment, denoted in Glint as you requested.”

Patches leaned forward in his chair, his crimson coat catching the flickering light of the ornate chandelier above. His gloved hands moved with a deliberate grace as he picked up the small wooden box from the polished table before him. It was an unassuming container, its surface worn smooth with age, the latch clicking softly as he opened it.

Inside, neatly arranged, were several stacks of crisp Union Glint bills. For a moment, Patches simply stared, his sharp eyes taking in the contents and making sure he got his full payment.

A slow smile spread across his face, curling at the edges like smoke rising from a smoldering fire. There was satisfaction in that smile, but also something more—a hint of calculation, as though this payment was just one piece of a much larger game.

Patches: “Thank you, my Lord. You are too kind.”

Salo: “Tell me, are you busy a month from now? There is another local event coming up soon, and I would love it if you could perform there.”

Patches: “You honor me, my lord. But, I have prior engagements that I must attend first, and I’m afraid it would conflict with this event you are planning.”

Salo: “This engagement has something to do with the Union, doesn't it? It’s why you asked to be paid in Glint. You know crossing the border is dangerous. You would be better staying here than putting yourselves at risk like that.”

Patches: “I’m not worried. We live in dangerous times, and I know how to take care of myself. And, more than anything, it is the principle. Promising something and not showing up would damage my reputation.”

Salo: “It could be said refusing the request from a duke will be even more damaging to one's reputation,” he said, sounding somewhat threatening.

Patches: “Maybe, but I must insist. Besides, you claim safety here in Seevy, but I wouldn’t say this place is particularly safe.”

Salo: “What are you talking about?” he said, sounding insulted. “I just reinforced my military. There probably is no place safer in Gix right now.”

Patches: “Please, my Lord. I mean, no disrespect, but you have a… rat problem,” he said while craning his head upward.

Noticing that Patches’ gaze had shifted upward, his expression oddly amused yet alert, Salo instinctively followed the circus master’s line of sight. His sharp eyes scanned the dimly lit ceiling and froze when they found the source of Patches' attention.

Perched in the shadowed corner of the room, blending seamlessly with the darkness, was a figure clad entirely in black. The assassin's blade glinted faintly, catching the golden glow of the chandelier. Every muscle in Salo’s body tensed as the realization hit—this intruder had been lurking, poised like a viper, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

The moment of discovery shattered the assassin’s cover. With a quick motion, the figure sprang from the ceiling, descending swiftly like a bird of prey. The blade gleamed in the air, its deadly intent aimed directly at Salo’s chest.

Assassin: “For the Light! You Endless War Pig!”

As the assassin plunged through the air, his deadly arc toward Salo was abruptly and unnaturally halted mid-flight. The momentum stopped, so suddenly that it seemed as though time itself stopped. Salo, unprepared for the surreal sight, stumbled backward in shock, landing unceremoniously on the floor with a thud.

Blinking in confusion, he stared up at the would-be killer, who now hung suspended in midair like a marionette. The assassin writhed, his limbs straining against an unseen force, his blade still clutched tightly in one hand. At first, Salo couldn’t comprehend what he was seeing. How was this possible? How is he floating? What had stopped the assassin?

It was only when he squinted, the dim light of the room catching on something faint, that he began to understand. There, glimmering like a spider's web in the soft glow of the chandelier, was a near-invisible thread coiled around the assassin’s body. As Salo’s eyes adjusted, he saw more of it—countless strands of impossibly fine metal thread binding the man’s arms, legs, and torso in a complex, and unyielding web.

The assassin struggled harder, his muffled grunts of frustration echoing in the room, but the threads didn’t budge. They shimmered faintly with every movement, their tensile strength unrelenting.

Patches: “You see what I mean, a rat problem.”

Assassin: “Let me go, wizard! I must strike him down to purify Seevy and remove the Endless War cult corruption!”

Patches just smiled before he stood up and faced the assassin, currently suspended and struggling in midair.

Patches: “It looks like the group that broke off from the witch hunters, the purifiers, seemed to be aware and upset at your dealings with the Endless War cult, my duke,” he said while tuning to Salo.

Salo blinked a few times, confused and utterly baffled by what was transpiring in front of him.

Patches: “Consider this an additional free service for being such a good employer.”

Patches extended his hand with an almost lazy grace, his index finger outstretched. He moved it through the air in idle, looping motions until, with a subtle flick, it caught on something unseen. A faint shimmer revealed the culprit—one of the nearly invisible metal threads that bound the assassin.

With a sly grin, Patches began to tug on the thread, as though reeling in a prize fish. The movement was slow and deliberate, yet it sent an unsettling ripple through the air. A sharp, high-pitched screech rang out, the metallic sound cutting through the silence like a blade.

The assassin’s body reacted instantly. His limbs convulsed, jerking violently against the tightening threads, as though he were a puppet caught in a sadistic dance. The more Patches pulled, the more the web of threads constricted, each movement sending tremors through the man’s bound form.

Assassin: “AAAAAAHG!” he screamed out in pain.

The tension in the nearly invisible threads grew mercilessly, biting deeper into the assassin’s bound form. At first, the fine strands shredded his dark clothing with ease, slicing through the fabric as though it were paper. Then came the inevitable—flesh.

Thin, crimson lines began to form where the threads pressed against his skin, the sharp metal slicing into muscle with cold precision. Blood welled up from the cuts, pooling to the surface before oozing in steady rivulets. As it seeped along the intricate webbing, the once-invisible threads began to reveal themselves, glistening ominously with droplets of blood in the dim light like a macabre work of art.

Patches didn’t so much as flinch, his expression one of detached amusement as he worked the thread like a craftsman toying with his creation.

The assassin's body contorted grotesquely under the relentless pull of the tightening threads. His limbs began to twist unnaturally, bending at impossible angles as the metallic web exerted its cruel dominance. Bones creaked and joints popped, the sound was almost drowned out by the assassin's muffled cries of agony.

The sight was as horrifying as it was mesmerizing, and Patches seemed to savor every moment, his gaze flicking between Salo and the assassin with a wicked glint in his eye.

The sight was ghastly, even for Salo, and he couldn’t but call out to Patches.

Salo: “Stop!”

With a calculated flick of his wrist, Patches gave the thread one final, deliberate pull. The tension in the line reached its peak, and with a sharp, metallic snap, the thread broke. The sudden snap unleashed a catastrophic force upon the assassin’s battered body.

A sickening series of cracks echoed through the room as the assassin’s neck twisted violently, snapping under the strain, followed by the grotesque sound of more bones shattering in rapid succession. The lifeless figure convulsed briefly in its death throes before the threads holding him aloft loosened their grip entirely.

Gravity claimed its prize, and the assassin's corpse plummeted to the floor, landing with a wet, resounding thud in the center of the room. Blood pooled beneath the broken body, painting the polished floor in a gruesome testament to the threads’ efficiency.

Patches stepped forward, his boots clicking softly against the floor as he surveyed his work with almost artistic satisfaction. He adjusted his top hat with a casual air, glancing toward Salo, who remained frozen in stunned silence.

Patches: “Now then, if there is nothing else you need from me, I'll take my leave. I have a very important meeting in Graheel.”