To Kill a God

Mansion

It took Al all of two seconds after crossing through the gates of the Hawkeye estates to realize that he had underestimated the family's position. He had thought that the Hawkeyes were a rich and influential family, and he was right. Though his sense of scale was woefully wrong.

"Dayum," Zips said, summing up his thoughts quite succinctly.

The hawkeyes mansion was surrounded on all sides by lush gardens and walls twice as tall as Al. Flowers in full bloom glowed in the night and filled the air with the scent of lilac and rose. In the centre rose the mansion, a square, three story tall building of red brick with two wings extending out to either side. Huge windows were lit from within with the eerie blue light of glowballs, casting long shadows on the cobblestone driveway down which Al, his sister, and Violet's companions were walking.

"Welcome to the Hawkeye estates," Violet said with little fanfare.

The doors to the house opened, and half a dozen servants spilled out, all decked out in black and white garments and carrying trays and towels. One stopped before Al, lowering a platter on which sat a cool glass of chilled wine. He took it. "Thanks."

They were given wet towels while a large, orcish lady spoke with Violet, then whisked everyone, servants included, into the entryway.

The hall they entered was grandiose, with two curving stairways at the end and a vaulted ceiling a storey and a half tall. A chandelier made of a million crystals hung imperiously from above, casting glints of prismatic light across the gilded room.

"I'll warn Flore here," Violet said, tapping the orc woman on the arm as she addressed Al and Zips. "She'll warn the staff in turn. But for now, please keep your hoods on. I would rather not have to shovel fainted staff off the grounds."

Al flashed her a smile. "Fair enough," he said. "I was wondering when we could meet with the master of the family?"

Violet raised an eyebrow. "You have. I'm the sole heiress of the Hawkeye family. Owner of all its estates, properties and businesses." She smiled, then walked along with the orcish servant, speaking in a low voice that Al couldn't quite hear.

"Oh, damn, bro," Zips said. "When you go out of your league, you go way out."

Al looked up at the ceiling, then at the milling guards who were congregating around Primm. "Tell me about it," he muttered. Walking up to the commander, he nodded quickly.

Primm dismissed his men and turned to Al. "We have your... guest, over in one of the storage rooms. Do you want to see him anytime soon?" He paused. "Actually, before that. How did it go?"

Al shrugged. "Zips went to the Reckoner's headquarters and caught the archbishop as he was embarking on his carriage. Two guards down and he was ours for the taking. I took out one of their bishops. Ugly fellow, rugged face." Al gestured at his own face. "Don't know if he's dead or not."

Primm raised an eyebrow. "Markus? Impressive. And in front of a crowd, no less." He grinned at Al. "I'm a bit of a tactician myself, I'll have you know. I think I can imagine the blow to morale losing to no more than two foes can have."

"Can you imagine the retaliation that might be coming, then?" Al asked.

Primm winced. "I can. I'll be doubling the guard tonight."

"We don't want to appear suspicious," Al warned.

"My men can be discrete."

Al patted the commander on the shoulder. "With you at their head, I've no doubt. Now, where can we find this archbishop?"

Primm waved a young serving lady over. He conferred with the gnomish girl then pointed at her. "Al, Zips, this young servant will bring you to the Archbishop. If you need anything at all, you have but to ask. I'm sure the kitchens can prepare you something adequate to eat as you talk to the man."