Cryppe entered Asheevi’s den once again. The guards actually let him in without any qualms. He realized he may have to kill them on his way out, assuming Asheevi reacted that fast. He knew to be convincing, he had to let Sigvali call the guards. Today blood would spill once again, and Cryppe set his mind into why he was doing this.

  You tread a fine line of justice and villainy, said the blade.

  What would you have me do?

  Be the lawman I assigned you to be.

  Lawman of which scripture.

  The blade remained silent.

  Of these lands? Then I should be siding with her, or with Shaenik. Whoever has more gold.

  You twist the words.

  You don’t straighten them out. Laws are written. You have given me no such text.

  Law of the Warden. You know whom I speak of. The Arc of Martial Law. Leader of the Arcen Ones.

  Let him come down and deputize me, then.

  He has. You have me.

  What would he do?

  The blade remained silent yet again.

  You have a limited view. You are flawed. You have no words for me and no text. So I must do what I believe the Warden would. What I believe justice is. I go now not with malice. I kill now not for hatred. I do what I do to save lives because they can’t save themselves.

  Choice.

  Choice, repeated Cryppe.

  You have changed what law is.

  Then I believe I have changed you.

  The blade remained silent.

  Hundreds of lives under Asheevi’s control. If he succeeded, they would live and escape assuming Sigvali accomplished his trickery. Cryppe just had to steal, battle, and survive.

  He strode toward Sigvali’s workshop. It was easy to find next to the large group of soldiers and armory. There he could see Sigvali’s tools being brought in. The basic smithing necessities, but also a large vat, some vials, and other alchemical contents.

  ****

  Asheevi watched as all the contents were carried into Sigvali’s workshop. She turned to her blood forger.

  “Anything else?”

  Sigvali produced a crimson stone from his pouch. “This is my blood stone. I have been working on it. It requires a great amount of effort, and I can’t replicate it. It must be protected at all costs.”

  Asheevi’s eyes widened a fraction. So her plan now rested on a man and a stone. “I wish you’d told me that earlier. I wouldn’t have let you wander so easily around.”

  “They would have to strip it from my cold dead hands.”

  “Why such sudden commitment to my goals.”

  “I am Vrodian, Asheevi. A Blood Forger at that. Though I betray my people to save them, I also have pride in what I can do. I do not plan to have this be stolen by some fool in need of a few coins. It is my blood as well as my pride.”

  “And you can’t replicate it? Why?” She seemed skeptical. “Why make it now?”

  “Blood Forgers have a limit to their skill and supply. This requires both. It would kill me and perhaps even those around. It is an erratic art.”

  “You’re not lying to me are you?”

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Asheevi, why would I be lying to you now?”

  “Why wouldn’t you?”

  Sigvali didn’t seem to betray any of his lies if he was deceitful. Eitherway, she had one resource in her possession that could be used as a trump card. Dumai still dwelled in her halls, his face under slow and steady reconstruction. All he had to do was be around when his skills were needed. He had done some mischief in regards to Grimblade and his party. She didn’t care what it was.

  His skills in outing lies may come in handy.

  ****

  Cryppe pushed past the guards and when they barked at him to stop and answer their questions, he decided it was time. The Blade of Justice did not unsheath itself. The scabbard acted as a bludgeon as it whirred around and clobbered the guards, sending them sprawling away. The clattering of their weapons and bodies alerted many of the thugs and sellswords around.

  It had begun.

  ****

  Sigvali heard the shouts and screams. What was that lad thinking? Just storming in here. Perhaps it was needed with his lie.

  Asheevi’s voice resounded over the sellswords. “Protect the Blood Forger!”

  Sigvali neared the door and peaked out to see what was happening.

  “Get back in!” Asheevi ordered, drawing her scimitar and joining the fray. What if Cryppe just killed her here and now? That would solve a great many problems. He was in no shape to fight, and if he failed, he’d have killed hundreds of his countrymen.

  Cryppe, however, was under no such jurisdiction. His violence remained unchained.

  ****

  Cryppe wondered if Kasar had felt the remorse that the lawman suffered now as he lay over dozens of bodies. Granted they were unconscious.

  “Just the sheathe,” laughed Cryppe, panting. He needed to conserve his energy. The fighting had just begun. He heard them storming down the halls. And wielding the blade like this felt more akin to an imbalanced maul.

  ****

  Sigvali could hear the violence from his workshop. He worked his blood forging while he could. She wanted him to make a weapon, and he’d be working on one for the freedom of his people. Just not the kind she wanted.

  Of course, all progress in the open would have to stop once his blood stone was in Cryppe’s hands. But he could work in secret. Make progress on harmless and invisible things to later put to use in everyone’s escape.

  ****

  Cryppe charged right through the sellsword battle line. They actually fled after the initial impact. Flashes of Kasar’s berserking flashed through his mind. He would let them live.

  Asheevi was nowhere to be seen, but he was sure he’d heard her voice issuing orders. Perhaps she was bringing reinforcements. Already, Cryppe had suffered some minor scrapes and nicks. He’d healed them, but he had to watch himself. Still many more fights to come. He was almost at Sigvali’s workshop. He could see the door through which had to turn around.

  He dashed for it.

  ****

  Cryppe came in fast. He slammed the hilt of his blade into Sigvali’s nose. Stars flashed for Sigvali, and his vision darkened. Cryppe didn’t say anything as he slammed Sigvali into the table repeatedly. A knee to the face. Finally, down came the sheathed sword onto his head.

  ****

  Cryppe used Sigvali’s sword to slit his forearm in a harmless spot. He then threw it next to Sigvali. Out he went, the blood stone in his hand. So much violence for a rock that had no worth or power.

  ****

  Asheevi dashed back to Sigvali’s workshop. If she had stayed, Cryppe would have come straight for her. Her life was not worth her mission, not at this stage. However, her fears were true, and rage bubbled in her belly. Around her lay swaths of bodies dead or dying. Healers strode around saving whom they could. When she burst into Sigvali’s room, she saw him sprawled out onto the ground, blood spattered on his sword, and his body a broken mess.

  He stirred.

  Asheevi yanked him to his feet. Such a frail thing he was. He grunted when he landed on a chair.

  “What happened?” she growled. “The stone? Did he take it?”

  Sigvali took a moment to register his surroundings. His eyes shot open. Anger boiled in his eyes, enough to let Asheevi step back.

  “That bastard,” he said, voice humming with rage. She wondered if he could channel as well as his supposed talents with Blood Forging, could he summon a blade of her own fluids and slay her?

  She shouldn’t be so ridiculous. If he could, he would have already.

  “The stone,” said Asheevi, quieter. She hated that she was scared. Her guards were dead around her, and much of that blood surrounded the floors around them. What did she know about blood magic, anyways? She should be scared. “Sigvali?”

  “He came in here and attacked me.” His voice quaked. Tears formed in his eyes, mixed in with the red on his face.

  “Sigvali,” she said, trying to calm him down.

  “Your fault!” he roared, lunging at her.

  Asheevi flinched, but remembered his frailty. She caught him and pinned him down with ease. “Stop it!”

  “If you hadn’t weakened me so!”

  “Stop it, stupid man. I’m on your side.” She didn’t expect such a reaction. Up until this point, she’d considered anything he did a ruse to escape. Now, here he was, thrashing her for weakening him to a point where he couldn’t protect a stone she wished to bastardize? Vrodians were truly strange people.

  “It’s my pride!”

  “And it’s my future,” Asheevi snapped. Was this a ruse? She thought for a moment. Asheevi didn’t reach this far in life by trusting people. She reached here by trusting their dishonesty. Sellswords ventured into the workshop.

  “Boss?” one asked.

  “Have you found Cryppe?”

  “No, but more sellswords are chasing after him. We believe he is tiring.”

  “Get the bard,” said Asheevi, glaring into Sigvali’s eyes. “I need to fact check.”