As dubious as he was about Ira’s alleged ability to talk to the departed, Letho had to admit that the uncanny precision of her retort caught him off guard. Scarce were the ones that knew that exactly happened in that abandoned fort several months ago, where the Corone mercenaries that he came to save turned out to be slavers that killed eighty-nine locals. But before Letho had the actual information, he was caught up in the war and forced to either fight on the side of the slavers or forfeit his and Myrhia’s life. And while Ira obviously didn’t know the details of that dastardly clash, she certainly found a chink in the Marshal’s armor. His already frowned face turned deadly serious and grim.
“The dead obviously failed to fully brief you in that matter. I was tricked into that dispute and the stubbornness of your people forced me to fight at that fortress.” Letho said as he walked alongside the bitter Fallien woman that obviously hated his guts. He wasn’t about to butter her up either. “Maybe in your world of the dead everything is black and white, but in the real world everybody is not guilty as charged, regardless of how much you wanted it otherwise.”
“In my world of the dead everything is grey, stuck between the black and the white, in neither Sanctuary or Abyss, or Heaven and Hell as you may know them.” Ira retorted. “I know all about the facade they put on as Mercenaries because my people were sent in to clean up the mess. I had to watch these slavers go to Abyss, screaming all the way and not feeling a single piece of remorse. Though there was one named Col who told me what really happened and how you got dragged into it.”
“Alright, take it easy you two. There’ll be plenty of real foes to fight in the Keep.” Brye said from the other end of the passage, her stern, decisive, captain face exchanging her expression of sorrow over the loss of her leader.
“It’s true though.” Myrhia said to the captain timidly, though her voice easily reached both Ira and Letho in front. “They sent out a distress call, saying they were merchants and mercenaries. And when we came to rescue them, we were attacked and we could do nothing but defend ourselves. Letho didn’t want to kill those people.”
It was a wasted effort, the Marshal thought. Ira was too stubborn, too prejudiced, too set on the facts she knew to be swayed. She acted as if she never made a mistake in her life, holding on to her holier-then-thou behavior and refusing to acknowledge anything else. On the other hand, Brye was too focused at the task at hand, so Myrhia’s words obviously fell to deaf ears.
Luckily, they soon came to the end of their trek through the underground and unluckily for Ira, it was a dead end. Letho already had a rather snide comment on the tip of his tongue, but even as he opened his mouth to utter it, the butt end of Myrhia’s spear struck his chest, her strict face shushing him and allowing the cocky woman to consult her “spirits”. The Marshal waited patiently, still unwilling to let go of his incredulity that didn’t subside even when Ira found a way out, opening the hidden door in the wall. As if that wasn’t enough of a miracle, the woman seemed to concentrate before she moved forward, and what seemed like a set of armor grew around her body. Myrhia’s eyes were wide in awe at this magic and once the metal protection was fully formed, she even touched it with a finger gently.
“H-How did you do that?” she asked in a hushed tone.
“While you’re at it, could you grow about a dozen armed knights as well. I think we could use them.” Letho said with a sarcastic smirk before he made his way through the ajar doors. The divergence in atmosphere was instantaneous once they emerged from the tunnels. The musty, stale smell of the narrow passages was replaced with a faint touch of incense drifting through the fresh air. The high arced windows let in vast amounts of illumination, making the entire hall and all its luxurious ornaments glitter. The polished tiles below seemed so spotless that it made their mud-stained boots almost unwelcome. Bronze and gold statues of heroes of old caught in victorious poses formed a path in the middle of the lofty room. Letho took a peek over the hem of the tapestry, noticed a pair of guards patrolling the premises, then returned to the three women. He summoned Brye closer to him.
“Do you have any idea where Jya might be? Because I don’t think they caught her yet. If they did, they would be long gone.” he whispered. The woman’s eyes went out of focus for a second as she deliberated on the question.
“Either her personal quarters or the armory. Those two places are the easiest to guard. Both have only one point of entry, except her quarters are at the top of the tower, with a balcony looking over Irrakam.” Brye said, her fingers a bit impatient on the hilt of her sword. It was Letho’s time to ponder and calculate.
“The personal quarters. If they fought the invaders, they fought them room for room until they had nowhere else to retreat. You three should make your way to her personal quarters and try to rescue her.” he said, loading fresh shells into his gunblade diligently, careful not to make to clicking sound too loud.
“What about you, Letho?” Myrhia asked.
“I’ll make a big mess down here. It’s a big room, I’ll have plenty of space to maneuver and keep them busy. You three wait until they gang up on me, then make your move up the stairs.” he said, casting another quick glance at the pair of sentries.
“Do you want me to stay with you?” the redhead asked coyly.
The Marshal smiled confidently, playing the Lawmaker on his shoulder nonchalantly. “Nah, I’ll be fine. Just knocking some sense into a bunch of knaves.”
With that said, Letho stepped from behind the tapestry at a rather slow gait, ambling through room leisurely with his boots clicking loudly on the marble floor. The guards started at the sound, but by the time their eyes located the source of the sound, Letho’s gunblade roared. The first bullet struck a bronze statue of a charging rider, tearing off his head. The second bullet tore a hole in a belly of a lofty woman that held a staff decorated with various jewels. The third one turned an ornate vase into dust and jagged debris. The Marshal loaded another bullet into the barrel before stepping closer to the middle of the room. The two guards brandished their curved swords briskly. Two more came from an adjacent ball room. Three crashed through the main door. And at least half-a-dozen came running from the first floor like a herd of wild boars. Letho waited them in the center, seemingly without a worry in his mind.