Realm of Ash Series: Soul Bond (Book 1)

CHAPTER 13 - FAWKES

After meeting with the King, Commander Fawkes headed towards the Old Quarter in search for Ulric, certain the poor boy had left with Travon many years ago and hadn't been seen since.

He made his was between the split territory canals of snaking tunnels dotted with remaining villagers residing within their flimsy, makeshift homes built from old crates, charred wood, and frayed cloth. Residents to these were men, women and children suspended in purgatory without purpose, except only for existing and survival. Amongst these simple steadings, were belching clouds of soot and smoke from below the manmade sheets of steel mesh that paved their way through these canals, serving as a roof to the sewers; an alternative shelter for those choosing warmth over stench, they housed themselves next to exhaust vents of inns and factories from above. Fawkes stepped around these makeshift, waist high residences, gently ducking and weaving through sodden laundry draped across the alley. Finally arriving at an unassuming and quiet inn, far from the knowledge of the Monarchy, was a place of solitude for the Commander to rest and think.

He fought to preserve his trusting instincts towards his majesty and to remain of pure intentions, but Fawkes could not shake the weight of suspicion he considered for the demon and its influence on Roland's mind. The thought of a corrupted monarchy supporting the devastation of a demons wrath cut his breath sharply, fearing his days were becoming increasingly numbered.

Either way, he must be stopped, but for now, it would seem the first step lies with finding the boy.

The towering Commander crooked his neck under the low beamed door frame to the inn, listening to mulled discussions, small talk, and debate on Otharok amongst the patrons.

"We can't stop Otharok! What are we going to do? Launch arrows at him? Use catapults? Swords and hammers to wear him down into submission?" Asked a grizzled old village.

"No, but the stories claim Otharok had risen and ruled before, and he has done so again, only back then, magic stopped him and magic will stop him this time too".

Astute point, Fawkes thought to himself.

It seemed his thoughts along with the Kings subtly suggestive, idea towards the use of magic was mutual to even the hopelessly drunk of the inn.

Clearly an obvious path to follow, but ill-advised at best.

The conflicted Commander grabbed a wooden chair from an empty table and pulled the seat up close to the new table where his men were currently awaiting his arrival in a discussion of their own. Discussing the recent raids between the Crimson Divide and the Ancient Order.

"Their grasp on alchemy is becoming far more potent. Anyone caught in range of these blasts are done for".

Youngest of the four and the Commanders newest recruit, born and raised into the world post-summoning of Otharok, Hamlin was merely a pup in comparison but had grown into a tortured world which was all he knew. He brushed back his thick, rough auburn head of hair. Half a head height shorter than the rest, but stockier in both shoulders and arms, his youthful, hazel eyes focused on the carving of his dirk into the wooden table with his other hand, forming a crude design of both cult symbols overlapping each other.

"The ongoing trials of this conflict among rival clans, forces more famine, drought and death as a result of greed and domination over the territories. Power-hungry warlords claim the thrones of each district and what does the King do to stop them? Nothing!"

Steamed the hot-tempered Dodd, slamming the table in frustration with a large open palm. A palm that narrowed into long trunked limbs of tightly wrapped skin over prominent veins and faded tattoos of Blackwall's architecture running up both arms and draping over his exposed boulder shaped shoulders. His gaunt shaven head complimented the scar that ran from his crown, down to his bottom lip, crudely parting his generously thick moustache at its edge. The only man taller than his Commander, his grey eyes remained cutting to those timid of his glare, and often considered the Enforcer of Fawkes's specialised company of soldiers.