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

Chapter 29: A Standoff Between Comrades

There was something about fire that made Culter introspective. He sat on the rooftop, watching Gray Hogs Keep burn from the inside out, the flames much like his own soul. Burning ever so brightly, consuming everything to stay alive. Once his fire had been all but snuffed out, but even an ember can reignite when almost ash.

Killing Carnifex had reminded him how close he had been to death's door once. The stiletto that nearly killed him lay at his side now. So close it was that Culter had sworn he'd felt the metal touch his heart. But the blade had reasoned otherwise. Perhaps it had tasted the burning hatred in his soul and found a more relatable master. Birds of a feather as they say.

How happy a weapon must be when used for its intended purpose. Like a well-fed hound, as long as the stiletto was satisfied, it would never leave Culter's side. He lifted the lithe little thing and twirled it in his hand. The starlight metal glinted in the firelight. For a moment, he thought of Nox. With his dark skin and ivory toothed smile, he looked just like the stiletto. How strange to be thinking of him at a time like this, Culter thought.

Culter looked down into the throng of men still gathered before Gray Hogs. Most of the prisoners, an even mixture of Vangen and riff-raff, had not left. They communed with themselves or looked up at him as if expecting orders.

Culter gave an irritated sigh. That was the problem with soldiering. Those without the ability to lead learned to follow. Without orders, they were like sheep waiting for the shepherd to guide them by the crook. Sadly, Culter was no shepherd. Orders were best left to those that could lead, and Culter had no such desire. Why Dux had made him an officer then was still the world's greatest mystery.

A group of armed men led by a familiar face marched in from the eastern road. Culter smiled the moment he was recognized. Speak of the daemon, and he shall appear. As they say.

"Evening, Dux." Culter waved. He waited for the Captain to get his bearings. He looked at the still-smoldering Keep with disbelief as he assessed the situation.

"I'm assuming this is your doing?" Dux asked.

"Uh-huh." Culter nodded and slid the stiletto back into its sheath. With a shimmy, he descended down the roof, landing gracefully.

Dux took a minute to admire his work. "Not bad. Not bad. Gonna tell me what the seven hells happened?"

Culter gave him the news the best way he knew how. Short, sweet, and too the point. Like a good old fashioned mugging. "Found one of the Ministers. Killed him. Rescued some prisoners. Mostly Vangen. Some not."

"Well, good enough, I suppose." Dux was quick to rally everyone together. He called out for petty officers. A handful broke away from the pack, meeting with him to share their side of the story. The news was passed around about their capture. A lot of their stories were told the same way. About Libro leading the Vanguard, and the Sanguine Bridge's collapse. About Culter's sudden disappearance.

Which was why Culter wasn't surprised when Dux came marching over to him with a look that simply reeked of premeditated violence.

"Where's Libro?" Dux asked, although Culter felt that the Captain already knew.

He shrugged. "The men know more than I do." Dux didn't seem to like that answer, much to Culter's bemusement. It was the truth, more or less. After the Vangen had split up in the Forum of Constants, Libro had entitled himself to lead the Vanguard in a zealous charge. Better to let the boy have his fun playing soldier while the real work was done anyway.

Without warning, Dux reached out and grabbed Culter by the collar, nearly hauling him off his feet.

"So you decided to just fuck off to who knows where and leave the boy on his own?" Dux spat. He leaned in close, till their noses were practically touching.