Mithros's back abruptly spasmed as the long hours on horseback finally caught up to his physical limits. He tried regaining control through the reins only to succeed in causing the horse to revolt and launch his body straight into the air. With a resounding splat, he landed back first into thick wet mud. Sprawled out, the muscles in his body had been sapped of strength from his arduous journey.

Suddenly, Mirthros started laughing hysterically, a sight any normal person would assume psychotic. Traveling as far as he could, he had left the Empire behind. Even the greatest of trackers would need lady luck to find him.

It was his final straw, something that took years to break. The Emperor ground down his will with every command, and every task put a pressure no man should live with. Many saw Mithros's position, Archmage Advisor to the Emperor, as one of power, or at least one of respect. In reality, it was mainly a front for servitude. Mirthros couldn't live by his own rules, because the iron grip of the Emperor was self-regulating. If he were to succeed in his endeavors, more would be asked of him, creating a never ending loop of work. Yet, if he were to fail, the punishment was harsh to the point of death. So a younger Mithros had previously made it a mission to never fail, raising his status and power to impressive heights. Unfortunately, with each step higher he fell deeper into the grueling cycle.

Though he survived many years within this cycle, he had finally decided to make a break for it, mostly because failing to find the boy would be his second strike. There was a chance Stiggs or Kallie had found the boy, but it wasn't a risk he was willing to take, knowing full well exactly how deeplars consumed their prey. He could put in the work to get in contact with them, but a large part of him just didn't want to.

Mirthros laid there in the mud, dirty and tired, but finally free at last.

0---0

"I don't get it..."

Desperately trying to breathe through my mouth, I tiptoed over pieces of rotting flesh, attempting to identify which chunk of flesh belonged to which dismembered body; My shoes are already the quality most consider trash, but they are the only ones I've got. Captain Wendy watched my little dance with raised brow, breaking her normal stoic character for a slight curl upwards of the lip.

Poking at a deformed head, Cospal said, "What don't you get? Somebody sliced up this family all willy-nilly. There isn't much not to get really."

"No, I'm talking about the villagers. Why do they revere you and despise the guardsmen?" I clarified.

"Ho? You are thinking about such things?" Stiggs asked, laying back oddly relaxed in a puffy feathered recliner.

"I noticed it as soon as we entered the village. They look up to you like heroes but look down at the guardsmen with disgust. Aren't you both from the same side?"

"Let me ask you a question before I answer yours. Do you know the duties of the guardsmen versus the duties of a member of the army?" Siggs asked going into mentor mode.

"One defends locally while the other defends the whole empire?" I asked with a contorted face.

"Yes, but it goes deeper than that. Guards act double as government officials and police. Their job entails gathering taxes and settling any community disputes. While all taxes go toward the Emperor's pocket, the guardsmen are the faces who show up when it's time to collect. It's hard to like the person that is literally taking money from your pocket."

"Hmmm... I see..."

"And of course the army has been successful in keeping the only conflict it has ever known to the borders, with the exception of the recent rise in bandits. The citizens know peace and pride to which the imperial army brings both."

"As much as I love the elementary school lesson, should we maybe get back to the bloody mess ladies and gents?" Cospal asked holding his nose with pinched fingers.

"Any thoughts Esried?" Captain Wendy inquired.

"Well I think it's a safe bet to say this was a crime of passion. The corpses have been mutilated beyond any simple killing. I count four bodies which lines up with the information given by the mayor. One father, one mother, one sister and one brother. Everything else looks normal except for the carnage and broken down door," I said while scanning for more clues.

"Good. I doubt you'll find more. The killer most likely forced his way in and murdered the family as his primary objective," Stiggs nodded firmly and started moving toward the exit.

"So what's next?" I asked while stepping outside, taking a deep breath to clear my system from the previously foul air.

"We question the neighbors. Based on how evenly spaced these farms are, the closest person lives approximately a mile down the road," Captain Wendy answered, already prepping her horse.

Steering my horse down the beaten dirt road, I couldn't help but notice how calm the world was. The sparse thick trees swayed as one with the light breeze, the sunlight radiated a healthy warmth, and the endless farm fields brought a structured landscape to a natural land. Murder in such a place was a step beyond belief.

As we pulled up to the neighbor's house, the sound of metal on metal thunking entered our ears in rhythmic beat. A woman with aged wrinkles came into view, holding a hollow cylinder in one hand and what looked to be a cowbell in the other, swinging back and forth in her rocking chair to boot.

As if on cue to entertain my curiosity, the woman shouted, "God is just! God brings peace!"

Cospal rolled his eyes before dismounting and asking, "Ma'm. We are here to investigate the death of your neighbors. Could you tell us of anything suspicious going on with or around the family?"

"Haha! Suspicious? Everything about that family is suspicious! That evil satanic family has been dealt with by god personally because of their suspicious ways!" The woman smiled proudly as if she were the messenger of god herself.

"How do you figure Ma'm?" Cospal continued the line of questioning.

"Every week I see people come and go from Mr. Strudder's farm, you know the farmer that got stabbed. Dark screams and incessant moans come from that there area. They the devil's worshippers I tell ya. I also seen dem son and daughter from dat suspicious family passing from time to time toward that very farm," The old woman announced chin up.

Before Cospal got a chance to ask anything else, the woman went back to clanging the two objects in her hand with renewed enthusiasm. Even if there were more questions to ask, Stiggs was already moving toward Mr. Strudder's farm. Conveniently, the farm in question was just another mile down the road.

"So this must be the dead farmer's home. According to the Mayor, the body was found a while ago in the basement of the barn," Cospal stated, flipping through a little notebook with various scribbles.

Walking to the rear of the house, we spot the entrance to the basement of the large white barn out back. Thick wooden doors locked by magic lay flat to the surface of the earth. Cospal stomped downward and quickly smashed the handles with his foot easily destroying the lock of the door, producing a hole the size of his foot.

Inside, the room was pitch black making the cold stone stairs down hard to navigate. Coming from behind, Captain Wendy startled me with a glowing orb that illuminated every corner, a neat little magical device. Looking around, I immediately noticed large barrels stacked in a corner as well as a rack of weapons. In the middle of the room lay a large human shaped table, complete with leather restraints and mechanical crank.

"These barrels reek of Rathium. My younger brother was addicted to it. Took my family years to wean him off the drug," Captain Wendy said with solemn face, hiding a rising anger which I perceived through the tone in her voice.

"Are we going to talk about the torture devices all around? These people were clearly doing crazy stuff," I asked, trying to address the elephant in the room.

"These things are here for torture all right, but I dont think you clearly understand what was really going on down here," Cospal said while fiddeling with some tools laid on a stool next to the weapons rack.

"Can you please give me a straight answer?" I asked, a bit tired of all the half rhetoric and half philosophical replies I usually get during training.

"Well... Look closer and I think you'll figure it out," a smirk flashed from Cospal giving me a weird sensation in my gut.

The weapons rack I previously passed as normal torture tools contained various whips, knives, and batons. The nightstand next to it held various objects of different lengths and sizes. Cospal held one of them up and walked over to the center human shaped table, pulling everybody’s attention.

"Ya place this doohickey here..."

"Ya place the little farm girl lass here..."

"And then... Ya turn this doohickey here."

Rotating the manual hand crank caused a loud clacking sound while the object Cospal attached started to violently thrust back and forth. Immediately my eyes widened in horror while my mouth formed the shape of an O.

Ohhh... OHHH! I get it... OH FUCK ME, I GET IT!