The house was as well furnished inside as Deatt expected. Carmilla was always on the posh side and now it seemed she had the funds to back it up. Ill gotten, Deatt was sure. Though he would be a hypocrite to complain about that. He was a thief himself after all.

  Come to think of it. He did not do a lot of thieving in the last years. Even now, back in a bustling city, he did not do anything yet. He would have to change that after this whole thing was over. He was so preoccupied with survival he forgot to do the one thing that he truly enjoyed.

  Maybe he could even start in the house.

  There were numerous clearly expansive pieces of furniture. The chairs were padded with linen pillows, the table was long and thick, made out of sturdy wood, the drapes where enlaced with golden threads, finishing the opulent look of the room.

  Truly, a home of vanity, one that he immediately came to envy her.

  They were led through the spacious house by Carmilla. Deatt could not help but watch her walk, he always found the way her hips moved captivating. Her scent flowed around them as they walked, and Deatt had to fight his memories with every breath.

  They moved up the stairs and stopped at a door with two men beside it. Deatt recognized the half-orc on the left, he was in the arena as security for the VIP as well, the other he did not recognize.

  "My husband is right behind this door. He will tell you what the job entails." Carmilla said to Deatt, before turning to Evelynn and Nido. "We will continue our discussion, I simply have to hear what you think about the spell rain." She turned to walk away, before turning to Deatt. "Please, just don't hurt yourself Dee." She said, moving down the hall again.

  Evelynn quickly followed suit, her interest in the conversation obvious.

  "Keep watch on her. You know the cut of Carmilla's tongue." Deatt said to Nido, who simply nodded and followed the pair.

  Then the two men stepped aside and let Deatt in.

  The office was incredible. There were bookcases with numerous tomes, most outlined in gold, the seating arrangements were made out of four leather chairs, just by looking Deatt knew just how comfortable they must have been. But the important part, the desk, with two similar chairs in the front and a high chair on the opposite side, was sturdy and magnificient. Giving the man sitting by it a subtle feel of importance and authority.

  The man had black hair, almost as dark as Carmilla's, his skin was tan and he wore a black jacket over a red shirt. His face was clean and his short beard perfectly trimmed to accentuate his jaw line.

  The man was simply dashing, to further annoy Deatt no doubt.

  "Welcome mister Deatt," his honey-like voice traveled through the room. "Please, make yourself comfortable. Cigar?" he asked, taking a small box out of the drawer.

  Deatt sat at one of the chairs, accepting the gesture with a nod.

  "You already know my name. I would appreciate knowing yours." Deatt said as he lighted the cigar with the matches in his pocket.

  The man took out a gold lighter to light his. "Vael Mortimmer, but please, call me Vael."

  "Alright, Vael then. What do you require of me?"

  "Right to the point? I like men who understand the value of time mister Deatt. I won't bore you then. I assume you are quite aware as to the situation that took hold of the kingdom?"

  "If the turned is what you mean, than yes. I had the pleasure to face them a few times myself."

  "I had the same misfortune, though I was lucky, I had my guards at the moment to shield me. But my question is mister Deatt, how much do you know?"

  "That the turned were different in all sorts of ways, some almost commanding the simpler ones. Possibly caused by a curse of some sort." he summarized in his head.

  "As much as anyone, some kind of infection probably, causing havoc on the west of the continent."

  "It is not just the west anymore, hence the arrival of my wife and I. The hordes of the damned are most probably increasing as we speak mister Deatt. It isn't out of realm of possibility, that it might be everywhere by now."

  "And you know this how?." Deatt said watching the man.

  "A man has to have his ways mister Deatt, you clearly understand. Now, what life would be all living with the calamity? Are we to hurdle ourselves into the confined safety of the cities? Try to hide as the wave of death and corruption washes over the world?" Vael said, then something in his eyes started to shine. The deep brown revealed a hint of yellow. "Or are we to understand? Find a solution, a way to fight the ongoing madness? See, I always expected for something like this to happen, that is why I made sure to own a house in every major city, from the west, to the east. For safety concerns."

  "Just how wealthy is this dude?" Deatt thought, a seed of frustration budding in his chest.

  "I believe in the latter, mister Deatt. I think that every situation has a solution and in this belief, I am prepared to invest."

  "Let's skip the part where you tell me all the very important reasons why I should help you. Tell me what it would entail first." Deatt interjected Vael. He knew the ways of men like him well. First, they would try to persuade you that you are actually doing it not for them, but for yourself, or the world. They would tell you all the hardship they endured, just to get you into the position that you need. Then, it almost seemed just a bonus that you would get paid.

  The Vael smile deepened, his eyes still sparkling.

  "There is an alchemist, magically gifted no-less, who has been researching a case very similar to this for more than four years. Gnenmo is his name."

  "And you know of him how?" Deatt did not expect the man to come clean about this, but he could not help but ask.

  "A man has to have his ways, you must understand. But I can tell you this, if anyone out there has a chance to deepen our understanding of the calamity, possibly even prepare a cure, then it is Gnenmo. I want you to bring him here, so I can support his research and utilize all my assets in the effort against darkness." He added.

  "And why exactly do you believe I am the man for the job?"

  "My wife, Carmilla, recommended you."

  The reply echoed deeply in Deatt's mind, bruising his mind as well as his ego. The frustration slowly grew to a burning heat in his chest. The snake of his past did not let go as Deatt expected, instead it was again trying to coil around his leg, slowly climbing to bite his neck.

  "She talks about your expertise often, you know?" Vael stood up and put two glasses on the table, he poured a see-through brown liquid in both and put one before Deatt. Only after Deatt saw the man drink from his glass did he pick it up. Just by the smell alone, Deatt knew the quality of the drink was miles above anything he had access to for...his whole life.

  "And now, seeing you before me. I can't but expect she was right in her assumption. You seem like a very capable man, mister Deatt. One that just might pull of the heist the world so desperately needs at the moment."

  "It is...nice of Carmilla to remember her old acquaintances, but I was in prison, remember? " Deatt said through gritted teeth. If Vael wanted to smear honey around his mouth, he would have to try harder for Deatt to lick it.

  "And yet you sit before me. Roughed up? Maybe. But you are here. To be perfectly candid, it is the escape from the destroyed Jirfort that finally made me realize the potential in my wife's suggestion. It was obvious that the dimwit brute and the girl could not have been much help in that regard. Not all men are able to-" The man continued talking, but Deatt was not listening anymore.

  "Dimwit?" The wave of heat moved up his body, reaching his throat.

  The world got blurry again, except the man before him, who remained clear. All the focus in his head was aimed at Vael. At the man that undoubtedly saw him as nothing but a tool, the man that had all the materialistic possessions Deatt dreamed about and the man that took the woman Deatt pursued for so long.

  Suddenly, Deatt started imagining ripping the false hero apart. Tearing into his flesh, disassembling him limb from limb, so he could take his place, his wealth and his wife.

  He saw himself sitting in the lavish chair, eating fine meals and drinking fine wine. Controlling a vast empire of employees, waiting for his each and every wish...and at night, Carmilla would wait for him by the bed.

  Deatt's body tensed and he felt spit rushing into his mouth. He wanted...he wanted so much to kill Vael. Then, just a part of him sobered and he realized he was reaching for the dagger by his hip. With deep breaths, he willed his anger to calm away. His hand twitched a couple of times, but he managed to place it on his knee again, gripping the joint tightly.

  "...but you mister Deatt. You managed to get to the gems. Like the great thief Noran in the past, you obtained them even through the tight security and the mage observing the safe through divination. You took it and got out. The only reason you were caught was-"

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  "Because the guards were back far quicker than we were told they would be and Nido was spotted. I know. I was there." Deatt replied dryly.

  Somewhere through Deatt's fight with the rising bloodlust, Vael had truly gotten invested into his speech. His body was tensed and he was standing, wishing with his fist in the air to deepen his points.

  "The point being. You are the right man for the job. Now, I am certain." Vael said, sitting back down on his luxurious chair. "And whether you will accept it today, or a week later, I know that you will accept."

  "And what, pray tell, makes you so confident?"

  "Because Zenwall, as work of art a bastion it is, will not hold."

  Deatt was left the room with a bitter taste in his mouth. He rejected, as he came here to do, but he did not feel as if he won. The confidence with which Vael spoke, even as arrogant as he was, did not feel bloated. The man must have known much more than he was letting on.

  But that did not scare him nearly as much as his sudden homicidal thoughts. He was about to kill the man. He was not thinking at all. He only saw murder.

  He feared that the turned saw things in much the same light.

  He was bitten and it seemed that the temptation was as strong as before, only lying dormant to wait for his attention to slip. That made things...a lot more complicated.

  Maybe the man Vael spoke of, Gnenmo, would posses the knowledge necessary to help him. Rid him of the curse that threatened to turn him into a mindless freak.

  The mention of Zenwall and Vael's assurance that the city would indeed not hold were just secondary concerns for Deatt. For one, he doubted that the great fortification surrounding the city would fall. Human hands, no matter the drive behind them, had no chance to penetrate the stone. Plus, the counter-attack of the cities knights seemed to work splendidly, slowly cutting down the number of turned.

  His mind preoccupied with these thoughts, Deatt registered Carmilla waiting for him outside after he had already passed her.

  "Ouch, I would have thought you'd at least spare me a glance." she laughed.

  "Where is Nido and Evelynn?" Deatt turned to her quickly.

  "Don't worry! They are getting entertained, Evelynn is in the library, looking at some books I recommended to her. That girl is a gem Deatt, seems like your taste is as good as ever."

  "And Nido?" Deatt crossed over the self-compliment. He was not in the mood to play.

  "He is telling some of the men how he defeated the Dancer. He is often very rough on the boys, so they gulp down every bit of the spanking he had gotten yesterday." She smiled.

  "So Dancer is a bodyguard here as well? Good to know." He thought.

  Her smile was enchanting. Knowing his friends were safe, Deatt allowed himself to relax, thought he found it hard to let go fully. He did almost dismember her husband after all.

  "Where did you meet Vael?"

  "Now why would you want to know that?" she smiled.

  "To discern whether he was the one you sold me out for, or not. So I would know just how quick this job would turn against me again." he replied coldly.

  Her posture changed, from the fluid and sensual to rigid. She took a short step back.

  "It won't. Vael has good intentions Dee. He is the only one that can stop this. If you can just put the differences aside-"

  "Differences? Oh, I am moving those aside. This is me, with no differences, grievances and revenge on my mind. This is me being open to suggestions Mil." he turned to move down the stairs.

  "Vael isn't lying to you Dee. Things are bound to escalate. I don't want you to end up-"

  "Imprisoned? Please, don't even try. We both know how that ended the last time."

  She did not answer. Instead she straightened her back and puffed out her chest again.

  "As you wish. But if you change your mind, you know where to find us."

  Without providing a reply, he turned to gather his friends. The visit ended up almost exactly as he suspected, though it was not entirely fruitless. Now, Deatt knew that something similar to what was happening had been going on even before, and that someone named Gnenmo was already working on a cure. If such a thing was possible.

  Vael left a certain kind of impression on Deatt. His words echoed through his mind as they walked through the streets. As Deatt watched the giant wall around the city, he could not imagine them bulking down and letting the turned in. It seemed too resilient for that.

  If the fortifications of this magnitude were to fall...it would signal the end for all mankind.

  As he was processing the meeting with Carmilla's husband, a sudden commotion took him out of his focus.

  The knights he saw before were riding through the streets, pushing the crowd away. One of the horses made contact with a beggar, sending the pour soul flying to the canal by the side of the road.

  Deatt managed to catch a glimpse of the hurrying men. His eyes were barely open, the life of them gone. The bags under his eyes said volumes and the armor of most was misshapen or otherwise damaged.

  Their rush caused mayhem on the streets, tents broke down as the horses blew past them, the various wares flying around. One merchant, selling a collection of small blades, was stabbed by his own stash, as the knife's were kicked off the table, falling right onto his back.

  Deatt was immediately in pursuit. He ran along the slowly disappearing horses, but he was not trying to catch them, he was running to the wall.

  As the group rode out, leaving an empty open gate behind them, the crowd assembled around it, watching as the riders quickly disappeared in the horiton. Deatt quickly ran to the stairs and stopped atop of the great wall.

  The onslaught was already nearing it's end.

  The horde of the turned must have numbered at least fifty, based on the littering bodies around the horses hoofs. Normally, such a number should have been taken care of, but something was different this time.

  Some horses lay on the ground, stiff. Deatt could not see what exactly had happened to them, but he guessed that the turned decided to bite into them as well. What caused them not to disregard them this time? Deatt had no clue.

  But he was not thinking about it long, his theorizing interrupted by one of the knights. The iron-clad man suddenly lunged from his horse, stabbing with his weapon directly between the armor plates of his fellow knight. Both men fell onto the ground, where the one laying on the floor desperately tried to tear his attacker off of him, no to avail. The other knight was stronger and managed to bite into the neck of his lesser.

  Then, after a bit of convulsing, both of the men stood up. Holding their weapons.

  The other knights immediately started to encircle the pair, swinging with their weapons and pressuring them further. Even though the pair put up a great resistance, they did finally go down, when one of the riders separated their heads with a clean turn of the wrist.

  Deatt quickly ran down the wall as he saw them riding back. They were much slower now, the furious sprint of their embark turning to a calm and plangent gallop.

  As the men rode through the makeshift market, they wore a somber expression. It was easy to see why. From the group of about thirty men that rode out, about a third did not return. The fight this time cost the cull group dearly.

  The man that finished the two turned knights rode in the back. His armor was painted at the rim, a long red feather rested on his helm. His expression was especially grim.

  The squad left only a silent sorrow on the streets, suddenly making the overcrowded square vacant of any life. They all just stared at the men leaving them in the slum as they returned to the inner walls of the city.

  Why did they sent only many riders? There must have been more knights, or soldiers under the lord...whoever's command. They were outnumbered out there.

  Or would they not simply close the gate and kill the turned from above? This way of dealing with the incoming danger seemed especially ineffective.

  There must have been a reason, one Deatt just did not understand.

  He gazed onto the black wall again, the words echoing in his mind.

  "Because Zenwall...will not hold."