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The Book of Deacon By Joseph R. Lallo Characters: 5282

Updated: 2018-01-19 12:03

The day passed almost precisely as the previous one had, as did one after, and the one after that. Daylight was spent studying, night spent with Myn to keep her company. It might not have been the most luxurious life, but it was just exactly what she needed: stability, safety, and even education and companionship. For the first time in ages, she could feel her tightly-bound mind decompressing, her perpetually tangled nerves unraveling. She was living, not merely surviving. After so long, it was a state she was unaccustomed to, and brought with it the nagging fear that it would be fleeting.


Several days of travel had brought Trigorah and her men from their headquarters in Northern Capital to the southern edge of an icy field. She had most of the other Elites combing it for some sign of where the sword had been found. If the reports were correct, then the girl had passed through the nearby towns heading south. Of the three nearest towns, only the people of the village due north had any memory of the girl described in Demont's report. They spat when they spoke of her, decrying her as a sympathizer and traitor. One man recounted with pride sending her directly through this field.

The general considered the facts. An unprepared, unequipped individual as the townsfolk had described would not likely have survived the journey to the next city, even if she'd known to head there directly. She must have found some manner of shelter before then. The only conceivable source, barring something within the tundra itself, was a small, poorly-kept place of worship.

hat's in here, " he said, attempting to poke Trigorah on the helmet only to have his hand knocked away. "I got a lot of questions, and I wanna be able to ask 'em in my way. And, naturally, I'll be hanging onto yer men."

After a moment, Trigorah offered her hand. Arden shuffled the halberd to under his arm, its blade swiping dangerously near to Trigorah's head, and shook her hand.

"Right. I'm off then. Have fun with yer priest, " Arden said, plodding out toward the door and barking an order to the men outside.

Trigorah entered the priest's chambers. He was sitting in a large chair, strangely composed despite his recent ordeal.

"I apologize for the actions of Arden. They were inexcusable, " Trigorah began.

"Mmm. And yet you work with him, " the priest replied.

"Through no choice of my own, I assure you, " General Trigorah said.

"Everything is a choice, my child. Some choices are made poorly. They can have terrible consequences, " he replied coldly. "Tell me. Is that the sort that our glorious army sees fit to employ?"

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