A fog of fear had descended over the entire city, the cold tendrils of despair and darkness worming their way into the hearts and mind of Daran citizens. His walk to the bathhouse in the early morning had been unusually quiet, fires were burning low and the rafters firmly shut as he’d wound his way from his home, to his prized establishment and daily morning haunt. The companionship of the pureblood lictors was rather unwelcome but a part of the new responsibility that he had undertaken. The ceremony was fresh in his mind but still mystifying, there’d been talk of ancient myths and modern legends but Landar had dismissed it as naught but religious pomp. These youths around him were like rabbits, jumping at every shadow and glaring wildly around. Landar’s mind toyed with the possibility of whether the lictors were more afraid of whatever had slain the last guardians or that they were now stuck with guarding the [i]Blood Rider[/i]. He had passed his cold, grey gaze over to the one nearest to him, a happy-faced boy with chestnut brown hair and eyes that seemed to take delight in any little matter of the world. When their gazes met, the boy had let out a slight involuntary shudder and averted his own, bringing a wry smirk dancing across Landar’s thin lips. Guarded by rabbits indeed.

The bathhouse had been more than welcome, not only did it have true guards posted to it, veteran mercenaries who were either too old for frontline battle or too sick of war, but the warm waters and massaging hands would do wonders for his aching shoulder. He left the lictors in the lobby of the bathhouse, silencing one with a dismissive hand when he’d tried to protest about the break in tradition. He needed to clear his mind and remedy his body; soon the new Guardians would be called into action and from what he’d heard through his many ears they’d need to be ready. As he padded almost silently through the grand building, passing his eyes over the wondrous marble and gold construction with an eye that had seen its opulence many times before. 

When he reached the baths, the delightful smells of rose and lavender wafted into his nose, caressing his senses but his eyes betrayed the sense of delight and momentary break from the harsh events of the real world. There were fewer people than usual present, those that were here huddled in groups around the area with personal guards brought alongside themselves. This was a sign of great concern for Landar as his clients had usually felt safe enough within the bathhouse to leave their guards behind but it seemed the entire city was turning into rabbits. A few of the guard’s hands nervously strayed to their weapons when Landar removed his knife belt, his prowess with the knife was rather well known along with his infamous reputation. His bath attendants were somewhat more relaxed, some of them were trained agents and his source of information; many perceived the beautiful women in the room as naught more than objects of decoration and as such talked freely around them. The others there were really just there for decoration and for company for the noblemen in the water, many of whom had wives and mistresses already. While not every girl here gave pleasure, they were free to do so of their own choice, the presence of them was quite a boon to the whole attraction of the place.

Before he reached his clothes, the mistress of the bathhouse, an older woman of 35 summers, strode up to him with a well-balanced stride and a lithe grace that seemed to defy her humanity. She was still an attractive woman but far more serious than most of the carefree girls under her control and she radiated an aura that made even the most confident man pause. Lalliana was his top agent, while she gathered little intelligence these days, she kept the rest on task and managed much of the information network for Landar, leaving him far more time for his leisure. [b]“Landar”[/b] her steely voice said [b]“I’ve heard around the city about the deaths of the Guardians. One of the soldiers who found them was loosened with drinks and company in one of our taverns. He spoke of horrors the like of which he’d never seen; like they’d be mauled by savage creatures that could wield fire. Now I’m no superstitious fool but from the state of the city, is that possible? I know you’ve witnessed it before, but could it truly occur again?”[/b]

Landar sighed as he collected his rampant thoughts and memories regarding those blasted catacombs and formulated some sort of coherent answer. [b]“Charred and mauled, how I hoped I’d never hear or see anything of the like again.”[/b] His somewhat cryptic and aloof answer gave the woman pause, but knowing Landar and the experiences he’d had she knew best to leave him to answer better of his own accord. Landar had told her of the catacombs one night after they’d consumed many jugs of wine to celebrate the removal and utter destruction of a politician who’d sought to drive him out of the city. Apparently finding a dark occult in the basement caused a great decrease in one’s own political and physical life expectancy, not that the body would ever be identified. [b]“Dara was targeted once before”[/b] he elaborated as his head dropped, before continuing with [b]“with the man who did that no longer imprisoned well it’s certainly possible. Given that all the new Guardians fought in those catacombs I’d say it’s nearly a certainty that the occult has something to do with it.”[/b] He shook his head as he finished, his eyes noticing the complete lack of emotion that was so customary for Lalliana albeit for one small instance he though he saw a flash of fear in her eyes. He spoke freely in her presence as she was the one person he trusted and no-one would be foolish enough to try and eavesdrop on the two of them, not since one attendant had been a little too ambitious a few years ago.

[b]“In that case, I’ll focus on gathering information about those with any potential ties to the occult, even if they’re just rumours. I’ll make sure the girl is well compensated for her work and that the guard is well taken care of, seeing that is enough the ruin a man.”[/b] The little comment on the end would seem a barb to many but in truth, Lalliana merely stated the truth. She knew what’d happened to those who’d been in the catacombs and had gone the deepest in Landar’s mind of anyone alive. 

She passed a small parchment which Landar knew would contain the detailed report, before she turned on her heel, interrupted by Landar’s response. [b]“Collate the information on the various economic and military leaders too; an assassination like this is likely to follow by an attack of some sort. We need to be ready.”[/b] A curt nod was his reply and he was almost left with his thoughts before a bath attendant broke his attention. A cute little thing, she was one of the youngest and most nervous of his staff. She knew little of the man, only of the reputation and the atrocities that he’d been responsible for. 

[b]“Sorry to bother you my lord, but the lictors out the front have received word that the Guardians have been called to meet.”[/b] She curtsied and left, Landar thanked her as she left but still noticed how the hands had trembled and shook in his presence but the eyes had wandered. It was almost funny how he was perceived by many young girls; there were attracted by his looks, his wealth and his power but horrified by his reputation. Yet they still tried to woo him, some with a modicum of success but it was never anything serious. 

A sigh of frustration fled his lips as he rose from the bench, strapping his knife belt on again, the soft leather easily moving through his hands in a much practiced manner. He’d be stuck with that cold ache of pain in his shoulder for the meeting now, it wasn’t a major source of discomfort but irritating enough that he’d prefer to be rid of it. The ache originated from a dagger that’d been thrust into there when he’d fought an assassin who’d been sent by a vengeful nobleman who’d taken poorly to having his family butchered and enslaved by the Lightning Company. When they’d ambushed his army some months later, his death had not been swift and even a few of the hardened killers of the Lightning had been sickened by his death. Landar never felt remorse for what he’d done, maybe regret for most merely saw him as a monster now; the sins he’d committed did far outweigh the good. Not a man for melancholy, the admission of that the first time had surprised him but Lalliana had always been a good probe for information and that is the top reason he’d first brought her over with him to Dara. A former prostitute turned assassin, she’d not been as bloodthirsty as enjoying the kill but enjoyed the challenge of it all. 

He shook the thoughts of such matters from his head and turned back to the plans of the present; the first meeting of the guardians would be interesting to say the least. To see all those great personalities come back together especially under the influence of recent events. It said enough about the pallor of desperation about the place that they’d elected some of their own monsters; if anything there were more than willing to fight fire with fire. A city where the [i]Blood Rider[/i], the [i]Raven[/i] and the [i]Pale Avenger[/i] could take office was a thought almost worth laughing at were it not a measure of the potential for the occult to inspire fear.

The journey to the Hall of Guardians was uneventful and quick, the bathhouse had been built close to the seat of power in the city for obvious reasons albeit the streets being as empty as they were hastened the journey even more. This was probably a relief for the stout lictor who’d been commanded to carry the few jugs of spiced wine that Landar had requested for the meeting, while not heavy in their own right, the boy looked more portly than powerful. All in all, being a former fighting man the state of his ‘guards’ was saddening, they were unprepared for combat and he’d likely be able to kill them all without a scratch but that was a reminder of the responsibility they’d undertaken. It was a frustrating but effective tradition and Landar wholly respected how a simple ruling like that had kept the many Guardians in check over the years. 

He’d been one of the first to arrive to the hall, taking note of the spartan décor of the place and making a silent understanding of why so many of the past Guardians had enjoyed the pleasures of his bathhouse so much. Leaving the lictors, except ordering the stoutly one to place the jugs on the table first, at the entrance of the hall, he withdrew the small parchment and taking in the notes left for him in Lalliana’s neat, functional writing. Casting his eyes over the hall, he placed each body where they’d been found; the noted fighters had been killed first, the others caught as they ran away. Whatever had killed them were hunters, they’d removed their biggest threat and worked their way down. Ignoring the servant furiously cleaning, he investigated one of the untouched scorch marks, the scent and texture of the ash reminded him of the catacombs but there was nothing truly conclusive. A slight tinge of anger boiled in him to match the pain in his shoulder but he shrugged it off, he’d need someone with a little more occult knowledge than himself to decide on the true nature of the assassination. 

He poured himself a small amount of the wine into a chalice and sipped on it, the wait not being long before the others were gathered, albeit in silence as they took note of each other and their changes. It was almost amusing how a group that’d been through so much together could be put off by the simple thought of having to discuss the issues of what had happened. He watched emotionlessly as Anu went through his religious motions, it was surely to no point other than the holding of traditions, although religion did have a handy knack of keeping the classes under strict ruling. Kanros was the first to break the silence, the Raven almost befitting his name swooping on the opportunity to be the Herald of Death. He thoughtfully considered the man’s words before offering his own thoughts to the group.
[b]
“I think we’ve all heard the circumstances of their death and if not, have a simple look around. That reminds me of only one thing I’ve experienced in my life but my knowledge is not of the occult and I’ll defer to our resident masters. As for the why? To me any major political assassination like this will be followed by some major action of diplomacy or war; given the present company being elected I think the diplomatic avenue is senseless. I personally see an attack following this and we sure make sure the city is ready both economically and militarily.”[/b] He was sure to keep his voice flat and emotionless the entire time, it would do no-one but their enemies any good to have the first meeting erupting into conflict. He took another sip from the wine, enjoying how the spices exploded into tastes across his tongue along with the powerful taste of the grapes, as his grey eyes awaited the next one to speak.