Chapter 96: The five Crows
The river exploded into a geyser of foam as Lyrielle and Vetra tackled Vince straight into the cold mountain pool.
Vince disappeared beneath the frothing surface, the laughter of the two girls echoing off the surrounding canyon walls. But before Lyrielle or Vetra could claim a full victory, Vince shifted his weight mid-water. Utilizing his hyper-honed physical control, he slipped out of their grasp like a phantom, diving deep into the turquoise depths.
"Where’d he go?" Vetra grunted, surfacing and blinking the water from her dark eyes.
SPLASH.
Vince erupted from the water directly behind Lyrielle. Before the elf could cast a spell or react, Vince reached around her waist and relentlessly tickled her sides.
"Ah! Vince—no! Stop!" Lyrielle shrieked through fits of helpless, gasping laughter, splashing wildly at him as she tried to wriggle out of his grip.
Vetra turned with a wild grin, lunging to help, but Vince released Lyrielle and ducked beneath another wave, splashing a wall of water directly into Vetra’s face before swimming effortlessly to the dry, grassy bank.
By the time they all finally crawled onto the shore to dry off, the morning sun was high in the sky.
As Lyrielle used a soft breeze spell to dry her traveling cloak and Vetra wrung out her dark tunic, Lyrielle noticed Vince standing on a nearby rock, his dark violet eyes fixed on the hazy horizon to the north. Smoke from distant forge-fires choked the distant sky.
"Vince?" Lyrielle asked, stepping up beside him.
"Have you... ever been to where we’re going?"
Vince didn’t look back immediately. He let the cool breeze ruffle his damp hair before offering a calm, quiet response.
"No," Vince said softly. "We’re going to be taking a little detour,"
He turned back to them, his sharp features settling into an unreadable expression.
Back then the merchants would mention a place of no authority where trade along side other things are done. If the mana signature I felt was who I think it was then north of here is...
"...The city with no law."
"Sounds like my kind of town," Vetra chuckled, strapping her belt. "Let’s go see what this city looks like."
By the time the trio crossed the rugged wastes and reached the outer perimeter of Malgrath, the sun had begun its late afternoon dip, casting long, bruised shadows over the iron-plated walls.
The city was a sprawling, chaotic metropolis of iron towers, crooked stone alleys, and steam-choked forge chimneys. Mercenaries, elven smugglers, beast-kin brawlers, and human outlaws moved through the muddy streets in an unholy alliance of apathy. Nobody asked for identity papers, and nobody cared about noble bloodlines.
Vince pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders as they slipped through the crowded outer market, his passive perception keeping a wide net over their surroundings.
So it is actually a place
Across the city square, the massive iron bell atop the central tower began to toll—four heavy, resonant strikes echoing across the rooftops, just like it does every hour.
Four o’clock had arrived.
High above the noise and grime of the streets, at the absolute apex of the Grim Spire, sat the legendary council hall of the Death Crows.
The chamber was a massive, circular hall carved from dark basalt, lit only by high arched windows and flickering brazier fires. In the center stood a heavy petrified-oak table, surrounded by five stone thrones.
The hall was quiet, save for the heavy, clanking steps of Brian the Executioner. The giant bare-chested warrior stood near the edge of the table, resting his massive, blood-stained war-cleaver against his stone throne. Tattooed prominently on his muscular shoulder were the dark, jagged horns of a bull.
A faint, cold breeze rustled the draperies near the western window as the second member materialized from the shadows.
She was a tall, sharp-featured woman draped in dark leather armor, her icy blue eyes scanning the room with ruthless precision. Two thin, silver rapier hilts peeked over her shoulders. Etched clearly along the side of her pale neck was a black tattoo of a coiled serpent.
"You’re early, Brian," she said, her voice like grinding ice. "Rare for a brute who spends his mornings in the blood pit."
"Shut it, Sara," Brian grunted, tossing a heavy wooden tankard onto the table. "Today is gonna be interesting."
Before sara could reply, a loud, metallic CLANG echoed from the entrance.
Stepping through the doorway was the third member—a wild, short-stature woman with spiky crimson hair and a dangerous, razor-thin grin. She was draped in a dozen concealed knives, wire reels, and explosive alchemical vials. Stamped on the back of her right palm was a stark black spider tattoo.
"Ooh, is it party time already?" Kira chirped, tossing a glass vial from hand to hand with terrifying carelessness. "I hope whatever this is, that it’s worth the time!"
Following silently behind her was the fourth member—a towering, silent sentinel whose very presence radiated a suffocating, heavy pressure. He wore thick, black iron plate armor that covered his entire body, leaving only two glowing crimson slits visible through his visor. Across his chest plate was a massive, white-ink tattoo of a scythe.
The silent giant, known simply as Gideon, said nothing. He pulled out his heavy stone chair with a low, scraping sound and sat down, resting his iron gauntlets on the wood.
Four of the five Crows were present. The tension in the room grew thick enough to choke on as the heavy iron clock on the wall clicked precisely to 4:00 PM.
CREAK...
The double iron doors at the end of the hall ground open.
Gliding smoothly through the entrance, his high-collared leather coat snapping in the draft, was Vesper. He stepped into the light of the braziers, rolling his signature blood-red coin back and forth across his knuckles with practiced, effortless speed. On his left forearm, the dark bat tattoo pulsed with a faint, crimson heat beneath his sleeve.
"Right on time," Vesper purred, a thin, razor-sharp smile touching his lips as he looked around the table at his former squadmates.
Brian let out a low rumble, resting his hand on his cleaver. Sara narrowed her icy eyes, Kira grinned wildly, and Gideon’s visor glowed slightly brighter in the dim light.
"Well, well," Vesper said, pulling out the fifth throne and resting his boots casually on the petrified wood table. "The Death Crows are all in one room again."