Tales of the Vangen: The Black Ministry's Betrayal (Book 1)

Chapter 23: A Night to Remember

At three strokes past midnight, Dux gave the order to move. They were to head west, towards the Acropolis, and make their descent into the Deadways. The Greenhorns were organized, briefed, and shuffled into their respective units. Each Officer would take a third of the men and split up, diverting course in a three-prong formation.

Civis was getting his gear ready when a familiar presence sat down beside him, arm cocked over an impressively heavy crossbow. He looked up to the warm ivory smile of Nox.

"You never told me you knew Byzan," Civis said, turning his attention back to his gear. A small rucksack with the essentials: waterskin bursting with fresh wine, a dagger, and some dry rations. He patted one of the pockets, smiling at the familiar shape of an old letter written to him long ago.

Nox gave a chuckle that made it hard for Civis not to smile. That damned Austerland just had that effect on people. He radiated joy, even in war.

"I listened." Nox said, his words thick with the accent of his Zulan tongue. Every syllable was pronounced, like a dramatic Anglan play.

"I suppose you won't need me translating for you now?"

Nox stamped his foot and gave another low chuckle.

"Yeah, didn't think so." Civis returned to checking his gear. He cinched the rucksack tight.

Nox tapped Civis on the shoulder and nodded over to the Captain, who was busy getting the Greenhorns lined up and ready. He had his iron mask on, signing orders in finger-cant.

Nox cocked a curious brow towards Civis.

"Not a fight," Civis sighed and swept a hand through his thin hair. "More like a disagreement. Don't worry about it."

Nox pulled something out of his pocket. It was a simple charm, carved from a small cobblestone chip with Vizith's name written in the Zulan script. He handed it to Civis.

Civis stared at the charm before slipping it into his coat pocket. "Thank you. Say a prayer for us as well. We'll need all the help we can get right now."

Missing the sarcasm, Nox clasped his hands and muttered a few words. Even if Civis had forgone the Goddess's ideals long ago, hearing Nox pray made him feel a little better. At least someone had enough faith to see this campaign through. After everything he had seen so far, Civis had begun to doubt. Far be it from him to stop a bloated empire from crumbling. Perhaps then he could have some form of vengeance.

Still, his brothers needed him. The Vangen was his family now, and letting his emotions take over would only lead to ruin. He needed to put on his best face, like Dux's mask of authority. Like those his brothers wore, his was a mask of determination, a cross between a warrior's pride and a man's honor. Together, they were unbreakable, at least, so they appeared.

Civis stood up and cocked a brave smile, patting the Austerland mercenary on the shoulder before moving on to his group. He could feel Nox's eyes on him until he had disappeared into the crowd.

Civis' group was nervous. The Greenhorns made jittery finger-scripts to each other, still trying to grasp at the essentials. That wouldn't do. Civis cleared his throat, and the group quickly filed into formation.

"We're moving out soon," Civis signed. "Our destination is the Acropolis. That's the big ass building on the hill. Past the big ass castle known as Gray Hogs."

A few nervous chuckles tittered from the crowd. Good, Civis thought. Better than nothing. "I won't lie to you, men. Lies have no place here in the Vangen Brotherhood. This mission is going to be difficult."

Nervous eyes glanced about, but that was about it. Even the Greenhorns knew better than to abandon reason and make a break for it.

Civis continued. "The Black Ministry has us on our toes. We've been separated from the other Vangen. Rebels and Caligati patrol the streets like dogs on the hunt. We are not to engage them by any means. Stealth is our primary goal. Understood?"