Cradle of the Filthy

[Rogue]

The Mal'Talzin Order was a shadowy group that dealt in secrets and ancient magics. Few knew of its existence. Even fewer knew of its purpose. The first rule of the Order was this: do not speak of the Order, lest you lose your tongue.

There were several ways to be inducted into the Order, of which the Temple of Praxeum is the most common. The Temple was a school. For a small donation, students were be admitted into the school as acolytes, where they learned the lore and applications of simpler sorcery. The lucky ones would leave as apprentices to the full sorcerers and sorceresses of the Order, and from there work their way into the heart of the Order. Students who were less lucky were sometimes retained and employed by the Temple as caretakers and staff. The unluckiest ones... no one spoke of the unluckiest ones.

Many members of the Order sent their own children to the Temple. At times, the Order also sent out searchers for children with strong potential. The Order cared little for races, sex, or lineage. Even slaves were eligible, so long as they had potential.

---

The Temple of Praxeum itself was a small castle, built a long time ago when the Order had more acolytes than the measly handful it had now.

The castle’s east and west wings housed sleeping alcoves and dormitories. Its north tower hosted prayer rooms, offices, libraries *and study areas. Its small southern wing had the kitchens and the eating halls. The great Stone Hall sat in the center, connected to all four directions through a multitude of hallways, stairways, secret passages. There was one indoor garden between the Stone Hall and the Temple’s front entrance, a bigger outdoor garden-cum-greenhouse immediately next to the entrance, several fountains, a deep well, and two large courtyards.

The Temple’s grounds sat enclosed by a thick forest of trees, as far away from any beacons of civilization as its builders could manage while still within the borders of Raiaera. There was one thin path that led in or out of the forest, and rumours had it that those who chanced the forest often met interesting ends. There were workings and magic in the soil to dissuade the common man from finding their way in.

Excerpts from the Book of Three
On the Practices of the Mal'Talzin

---

[Rogue]

Life as an acolyte at the Temple of Praxeum was a series of trials and tribulations, and if one were lucky, one left the Temple as an apprentice. The average acolyte spent two years at the Temple before they found a master. Arainthe Vardis was nearing the end of her second year, and she had yet to find a master to take her on. It was not for the lack of trying.

Old Man Taiu’s eyes were inches away from her hands, and she was sweating visibly. The day’s lesson was fire, and instructor Taiu was testing the acolyte class on the art of conjuring flames.

Come on. Her eyes were pinched shut in concentration, and her hands were cupped so tightly that she can feel her bones. An eternity later, a spark appeared, and bursted into a small flame. Its orange hue spread to color her cupped fingers, but no further.

“Mediocre,” the instructor allowed in his tweedy voice. “Next--”

Arianthe sighed in relief and let her concentration go. The flame fluttered out. She was not the slowest of the bunch, and that was not the worst criticism from Old Man Taiu for the group standing in the Praxeum’s learning halls today. Mediocre. Her back hunched invisibly beneath her black tunic.

The instructor had already moved onto his next target. “Very mediocre. Next--” And so it went down the line of twenty-something students.

The last acolyte in the line was Glorrad Hruine, a youth of good breeding and pedigree who entered the Temple a year ago. His flames appeared instantly and shot halfway up cavernous hall, burning as red as his red velvet shirt. When the fire died, the grey halls seemed a little greyer, a little colder. Arianthe made a face. She was definitely not envious of that bastard.

“Most excellent,” the old instructor said, his first words of praise of the day, and turned around to peer at the entire line of his students. “All of you are dismissed. We have an important visitor tomorrow, so I expect all of you to be on time for lessons. Don’t want a repeat of today, do you, Mister Darger?”

Someone at the other end of the line shook his head and muttered a no. Old Man Taiu nodded in satisfaction.

“Well then. Go away before I blast the lot of you out of here. Don’t tempt me.”

[Rogue]

The Stone Hall of the Praxeum was reserved for practical lessons and evening meals. While a great lover of meals, Arainthe had little love for the hall itself. The cavernous chambers was too large for the class of acolytes, too drafty in the mornings, too cold in evenings, and worst of all, it only had one doorway.

Darger and his boys were waiting for her when she stepped stepped out of the hall. They arranged themselves slovenly around the doorway in a half-circle, all smug faces and gaudy clothes. She looked positively drab before them. They were the sons of the rich and powerful. Lazy donkey asses, the lot of them. She tried to walk past the group, but then Darger parked his pasty face right in front of hers. Arianthe debated if she could smash his shit-eating grin into the granite walls without retaliation. Probably not.

“Mediocre,” he drawled, imitating the intonation of Old Man Taius. The tightness of his blond ponytail made his expression look tight and stretched out. His ivory robes were as pale as the rest of him. “How’d that feel, peon? Not so proud any more, are ya?”

His cronies snickered. Her fists clenched involuntarily. She didn’t like reminders of mediocrity. She had worked hard to get to where she was, from a no-name talentless street rat to a half-decent sorcery student.

“And who’s the dead-last, bastard?” Her voice dripped acid. She knew he hated her scorn. “And who’s the idiot who got his fool ass burnt by the old man today, Mister Darger? Did he leave any holes in your pants, you spineless worm?”

Darger sputtered, and the laughter of his boys died.

“Oh wait,” she grinned and crossed her arms, “I forgot. You’re not a spineless worm. You’re balls-less ass, right?”

If glares could kill, Arainthe would be dead. Darger was furious. With a howl, he threw his fists at her, but she managed to duck and sidestep the first. The second was stopped by a hand that reached out from behind her.

“Get out,” came a voice. It was deep and cold and expanded to fill the hallways. She recognized the voice instantly. It was Glorrad Hruine with his pedigree and icy cold face.

Darger twitched. Araithe grinned. Nobody picked fights against Hruine because nobody won fights against Hruine. No one won fights against Hruine because Hruine never stepped away from a fight until he won. Darger pulled back unwillingly, and his cronies drew away with him. He nodded once at Hruine -- some sign of respect -- before glaring daggers at Arainthe.

“Ya’ll get yours. Watch ya back,” Darger muttered as he walked away.

Good riddance, Arianthe thought.

[Rogue]

“Arry!”

The Temple wasn’t all bastards, and Arianthe didn’t hate everyone. She turned around with glee as Tessa Ree came bounding down the narrow hallway in her flour-splattered pink frock, hurling a full leg of lamb. Tessa Ree was a plumb and homely Temple cook with brown eyes and browner hair, and Arianthe loved the woman almost as much as she loved the woman’s meat pies. They had a most excellent transactional relationship.

“Tessa!” Arianthe cried, and jumped into the other woman’s single outstretched arm for a quick hug. Tessa smelled like the kitchens, fresh flour and coriander and raw lamb. “I engraved your incense and they’re in my room. I can bring them to you before tomorrow, but what do I get out of it?”

“A day early?” Tessa eyed Arainthe speculatively. Then she started walking again, lagging the leg of lamb along and beckoning the younger woman to follow. “You’re getting better, aren’t you?”

Arainthe puffed up a little and preened with pleasure. She did little pieces of magic for Tessa and the kitchen staff in exchange for coins, information, or small favors. Their transactions were always mutually profitable.

“All right.” A conspiratorial glint grew in Tessa’s eyes. “I’ll throw in an extra coin and a piece of news for you, love. Word from the staff is that Mistress Moore is coming tomorrow. Looking for an apprentice, apparently. Here’s your chance. Put on a good show for her.”

Moore? The girl’s brows furrowed as she followed the older woman through the pathways towards the kitchens. Moore. The name was familiar, like an old forgotten taste, flitting just out of reach in Arainthe’s mind. “You got more information than that?”

“She’s practical. Likes her apprentices practical.” Tessa shrugged and stopped. They were in front of the kitchens now. “She’s real high-up too. Supposedly all her apprentices turn out… powerful. You’re not going to get a better chance than this, Arry.”

Huh, Arainthe thought, as the older woman opened the large oaken doors in front of them with only one arm. That was true. She was not going to get a better chance to get herself apprenticed. It’s been two years since she entered the Temple, where only the basics were taught. You were supposed to get yourself apprenticed to get any further, to learn the real stuff. Masters and Mistresses of the craft visited the Temple for apprentices, and most of her cohort year had found masters within the past year. Those who did not get apprenticed within two years were typically regarded as wash-outs, and posted to odd jobs around the Temple.

Most of the acolytes here had some background in sorcery, whereas Arainthe had started out from the streets and knew nothing. Arainthe was the least and last of her group, and time was slowly slipping by.

“Alright. I’ll save you an extra piece of lamb if you get me my incense within the next hour.”

[Rogue]

Mistress Moore sat at the head of the staff table during breakfast. She was a thin, dark human in her fifties, and Arianthe had never seen anyone else with hair that white or robes that thick. Arianthe spent part of breakfast staring thoughtfully at the Mistress’ spindly fingers.

“A quest,” Master Taius announced later in the classroom, his voice as creaky and his face as stern as ever. “You will go to the Tomb of the Alkar’chuhan. You will seek out the a diadem buried in the tomb, and one of you will succeed.”

The announcement sent a scattering of whispers through the class of acolytes. All twenty-something of them were seated in one of the teaching halls. The Mistress had observed the day’s lessons in silence. This lesson came at the very end.

The Tomb itself was an open secret in the Temple. Legends had it that Alkar’chuhan was one of the earlier Masters of the Temple, capable of raising spirits and controlling the dead, but his spelled creations overpowered him and ended his life. Necromancy was a much frowned upon art these days and few brought up Alkar’chuhan’s name. Even so, most acolytes knew that the earlier Masters of the Temple built tombs within the forest surrounding the Temple, and Alkar’chuhan was one of them.

Mistress Moore nodded from her stance on the dais beside Old Man Taius. Her arms were crossed and she wore a thin smile. With a languid wave of her hand, an pallid illusion of a silvery jewel-encrusted crown formed in front of the class. The blue gem in the center twinkled.

“The Zaharberritze Diadem. I will be waiting in your instructor’s quarters for the next three days. If one of you poor, miserable acolytes managed to bring me the Diadem, you will be richly rewarded.” The illusion dissipated.

Arainthe leaned back in her seat at the middle of the class. Neither the Mistress nor the old instructor mentioned anything about an apprenticeship.

“If you choose to undertake the task, do your best to survive.” Taius continued, clearly trying to avoid looking at the woman beside him. “I’d like to have a class left by the end of this farce.”

The class degenerated into chaos, and Arainthe thought she felt Darger’s eyes on her back.

[Rogue]

She was hiding in a secret alcove with her ear was plastered against a wall. Tessa Ree stood a feet away to keep an eye out for any passerbys. Old man Taius’s office was on the other side of the wall, and there was a tiny spyhole that carried voices through into the alcove.

Tessa Ree traded Arianthe the information about this spying spot for a quiet piece of revenge against another staff a year ago.

“The diadem... don’t forget the… is down… the sanctum is up...”

Arianthe growled silently in frustration, not daring to make a sound as the spyhole worked both ways. The old instructor was speaking so softly that only piecemeal phrases could be heard.

She pried herself away from the wall and patted down the dust on her knees. Then she padded her way over to Tessa, who immediately swung an arm over Arianthe’s shoulder.

“ Anything useful?” Tessa asked, steering both of them through a low doorway and into the indoor gardens.

“Complete shit,” Arainthe muttered. Something in her stomach rolled and twisted with anger. The greeneries and thin trees in the garden did little to sooth her annoyance. “Senile old man.”

Old Man Taiu had steered Hruine into the office after that announcement, so of course Arainthe quietly followed behind. Part of her was curious about Hruine and another part of her hungered for more information about this quest. She ran into Tessa on the way and commandeered the other woman’s help.

Arainthe had planned on actually talking to Old Man Taius. That plan just went out the window. One thing from her eavesdropping was completely clear: the old instructor was quietly imparting additional information about this quest to Glorrad Hruine, and the audacity of that kind of favoritism -- not that the old man had ever hid it -- left a bitter taste in Arainthe’s mouth. She had worked hard to get to where she was, had clawed her way up within the past two years, whereas the privileged were handed more. Time was running out for her, whereas Hruine had only been an acolyte for a year and had at least another to go. The injustice of the situation more than upset her.

I’ll show him. Her fists clenched until it hurt.

[Rogue]

Hruine left before dawn the next day.

Arianthe bribed the guards at the front entrance to inform her immediately when that rich bastard was spotted. She followed him out the Temple in a hooded brown cloak, and was careful to keep him within her sights.

The Temple sat enclosed by a thick ring of trees, and much of it was unknown and unexplored. There was a thin path that led through the forest to the rest of civilization. Hruine did not take that path. Instead, he curved through the forest, treading deeper where the foliage grew more twisted and gnarled with every step. Every few minutes, he checked something in his hands and marked a tree with a chalk. He was walking forward with purpose, and as they travelled, Arainthe was ever more confident that he knew exactly where he was going. The existence of the Temple of Alkar'chuhan was no secret, but its precise location was unknown to most. She had no idea what they were headed towards.

Arainthe followed at a distance. The foliage around her provided sufficient covers for her to remain unseen, and she took extra care to remain unheard. The acolytes of the Temple were mostly city-dwellers. Few knew how to track a trail in the forest, and fewer knew how to survive. Hruine's trail was clumsy and easily followable. It made a dark part of her gleeful.

As they ventured deeper into the woods, everything around them felt old and forgotten. The foliage was thick and leafy, and the trees were tall, gnarled, with giant trunks. The rocks were half-buried in crumbly, dried dirt. Little sunlight found its way through the coverings of the trees, and there were no new green growth. Vines and fern ran unchecked, finding homes everywhere. Shadows and darkness blanketed everything. The air itself grew sour and dank. Arianthe's breaths became shallower almost unconsciously, because her gut instinct was telling her that breathing too heavily would bring danger.

They walked for hours in silence, until Arainthe became hyper aware of the sounds around her from the lack of anything else to do. It was then that she realized something was wrong.

Footsteps. More than one pair, excluding her own.

---

One. Two. Three.

Her ears picked up the muted plods of those trying to stay quiet and failing.

Four. Five.

The footsteps were some distance off, and there was more than one. One person won't hit the ground with those frequencies. Whoever her followers were, they were either getting clumsier as the journey went on, or she was getting better at hearing them.

Peering back frequently generated no leads. Her shadowers -- or perhaps Hruine's shadowers -- were careful enough to stay out of sight. Arainth frowned beneath her hood. Friendly folks did not hide in the shadows and try to go unheard. Only those with ulterior motives did so, herself included.

Who would find her or Hruine interesting enough to shadow, and why? Someone interested in the Diadem? Or something else?

Up ahead, Hruine continued to make his marks on the trees, creating a easy trail to follow, and it seemed unlikely that he would stop now. Behind her were unknown individuals. The decision was made in a snap second. Without hesitation, Arainthe stepped to the side, snapped a twig to start her own trail, and began curving backwards. She was better in the wilderness than any of her fellow acolytes, and she had full confidence in her abilities to circle back and slip behind her shadowers. At the very least, she wanted to know who they were.

[Rogue]

She slinked through the woods speedily, leaving a trail of small overturned rocks, unrooted ferns, and snapped branches, carefully keeping to the shadows as she moved.

It wasn’t long before she came upon the group. There were four of them moving together, all dressed in practical dark colours. All of them carried swords. Their faces were uncovered. She trailed them quietly while sticking to the trees to the side of them.

Darger’s blond hair was easily recognizable. He was leading the group, and it was obvious from the way he swaggered up front. The rest were Darger’s cronies, boys whose names Arainthe never bothered to learn. They stuck close to Hruine’s marked trail. From their whispered conversation, it sounded like they were getting more anxious.

“Where is she?” Darger scrowled. His eyes at times darted left and right, before always returning to the front.

The rest of his boys shrugged. One said: “Are we sure we’re following the right person? It’s just a hood. Anyone could be under it.”

Ah, Arainthe thought, sidestepping a gnarly root to avoid tripping, and then avoiding a patch of dried leafs. Her senses were heightened from a shot of fear and adrenaline, and while her targets were careful to stay soft, their words still carried to her.

Darger glared at the one who spoke. His expression was ugly and heated. “I bribed those guards. They saw her face. Shut up.”

It was stark clear who he was after. She had a bright red target painted on the hooded cloak. Also, she would have words with the guards when she got back.

There was a palpable chill growing at her back. Darger didn’t take well to being insulted, especially in front of an audience, and Arainthe knew this since the first day she met the boy. She also knew Darger was a spiteful little snake. She had seen it in the Temple, had seen the revenge he heaped on those whom he perceived had wronged him, and she had fended off his attacks herself. It rarely got physical, but he was the son of a noble and the coin was a powerful motivator. Bribery and squeezing his target dry of resources -- shutting down their access to the instructors, to the storehouse of daily ware, to the fucking kitchens -- were his preferred form of attack. His tactics rarely worked on her because she had friends at lower places, and it infuriated him.

So what was he after, here? What exactly was he planning?

Her targets stayed quiet, but from the tightness with which they gripped their swords, from the way Darger gripped something around his neck, and from the ugliness on Darger’s face, Arainthe could guess that their feud was about to get physical.

She breathed. Her foot slipped on a rock. Her arm crushed against a tree.

“Who’s there?” Darger and his crew reacted, their eyes shooting to her direction in a flash.

Shit. Arainthe cursed beneath her breath. In the next second, she was running, silence be damned. Their flurry of footsteps soon followed.

She was more at home in the wilderness than they were. She moved faster. She tracked better. She knew her directions. She dressed well for moving, and she had an adrenaline spike on her side. It wasn’t long before she lost both sight and sound of her followers. Later, logic would tell her that they wouldn’t dare follow too closely, because what if they lost sight of Hruine’s chalk trail? There was a very real possibility of getting lost in this forest.

Soon, she found her way back to the trail of overturned rocks and snapped branches. As she forged forward, Arainthe weighed her options. What should she do now? She was on Hruine’s trail, and Darger was on hers. Darger and his cronies weren’t the friendly sort. She hadn’t intended to be very friendly to Hruine either. Maybe it was time to make some friends.

Up ahead was the rotting carcass of a very dead deer, where vines had began to show through the carcass’s bones. It marked a turn in the trail, which led back towards Hruine’s chalk-marked trees. Arainthe shivered. At the very least, it would be nice to have one less enemy.

[Rogue]

Arainthe was a practical sort. With her mind made up, action was the logical next step. She raced through the forest, streaking past Hruine’s chalk-marked trees. Once she had caught sight of her target -- his red tunic was awfully visible -- she slipped behind a tree, and began waving her way ahead of him.

Hruine was the only acolyte in this forest who made no effort to hide his own presence. He was very audible, and it was very foolish. Arainthe could track him by sound alone. Clearly, the boy had little clue on how to navigate the woods. That he made it this far without beasts or danger was a miracle, although Arainthe wondered if Taiu imparted more than just directions the day before. Probably. The thought left a sour feeling in her mind.

Her priorities, however, were straight. Darger was more dangerous than Hruine. While typically an aloft, icy bastard who bested her in every way within the Temple, Hruine was still a honorable sort. He had no friends, but he made no enemies. Mostly, he was just very good at practical magics. That would be useful to her now.

When she judged that she was sufficiently close to him, she dropped her hood and stopped trying to remain quiet. Instead, she blundered through the trees, signalling her arrival with all her might.

No one stayed so silent without an ulterior motive, after all.

Then, seemingly accidentally, she stumbled through a bush of ferns and dropped directly into his path.

---

His brows furrowed upon seeing her, and he took half a step back. Otherwise, he made no overt actions.

“Ah.” She smiled peevishly and picked herself up, patting twigs out of her hair. “I think I’m ah… a little lost.”

She looked like it, too. Stumbling clumsily through the woods for the past few minutes garnered her a few rips in her cloak and muddied her leggings. There were small twigs in her hair, and a thin scratch on her cheeks. She looked harmless, mostly, with that smile and sheepish demeanor, and just a tint of fear in her eyes. Hruine must have thought the same, because outside of watching her, he did nothing else.

“Are you… ah, also looking for the Temple?” she asked. He looked larger up close, and his hands were clenched tight around some sort of compass.

He nodded once, and eyed her suspiciously. Cautious.

“Follow the marks,” he said coldly, nodding towards his chalk marks. “Should bring you back.”

“I… I came across a few others at the back. They were carrying swords,” she said, pulling her arms close to herself. Half-truths worked better than whole lies. She was slowly reeling this fish in. “Doesn’t feel it’s safe to go back, even if I knew how.”

She saw his frown at the mention of others and swords. His eyes passed over her from head to toe searchingly. She flicked open her cloak to show that she carried no weapons. His stance relaxed slightly at that.

“Can I…” she wetted her lips. “Can I follow you for a bit? At the back. I won’t go into the Temple, promise.”

There was long stretch of silence before he finally nodded.

[Rogue]

Journeying beside Hruine was very similar to journeying behind him. It speedy, efficient, and neither of them spoke. She saw him glancing at his compass and marking his trail. He made no effort to hide that. His compass was strange and glowed with an eerie blue light, and it didn’t look like it was always pointing north.

“What is it?” she asked eventually, curiosity getting the best of her.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled further ahead.

He didn’t trust her and watched her for treachery. That was obvious from the flicker of his eye, from his flinches when she made a noise, from the way he kept her at arm’s length. She absolutely planned on treachery, but not at this point of the journey. Not when he made such a convenient shield. Not when she could once again hear Darger and his cronies and their plodding footsteps.

The pace of the journey grew harder, and the glow of Hruine’s compass intensified. Before long, the compass flashed white twice, and the glow disappeared altogether.

At last, they were at their destination. The Tomb of Alkar'chuhan stood across a narrow river.

It was built like a tiered pyramid and at least half the size of the Temple. There were at least four floors protruding from the ground. The structure was built from hefty grey rocks, hewn smooth by age. Moss and ferns had sprouted between the bricks of stone, vines seemed to have burrowed through some bricks. Strangely enough, there was a waterfall running down one side of the pyramid into the river, and no visible entrances.

The entire area smelled of age and damp. The plants here were so deeply green that they seemed almost black.

“Stay here,” Hruine said curtly. Then he waded his way into the river, clothing and boots and all, and passed under the waterfall.

“Right,” Arainthe muttered. As if I’d listen.

Then she stripped off her cloak and outer tunics, rolled up her leggings, and took off her boots. Rolling everything into a bundle and clenching it tight to her chest, she made her own way across.