Allologue 5

922. Last Rest of Lysaroth.
Two suspects broke into the home of Sub-Commander Talthis Vim on the Eve of the new year. Believed to be assassins, they brandished weapons when confronted by the Sub-Commander. The perpetrators attempted to escape through an unknown passage in the basement of the Sub-Commander’s residence. Vim pursued them through the sewer network and hidden tunnels, arriving at the residence of Daltimer family through another hidden passage. In the ensuing confrontation, the suspects were slain, their bodies burned beyond recognition.”
“Mercy in Fire,” Talthis said to no one, setting his pen down next to the paper and pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. Though their hearts were darkened by murderous intent or naked greed, the Purifier felt a pang of guilt that his perfunctory report reduced the details of their struggle to ‘the suspects were slain.’ He was not a poet, nor did he believe that the details of his -or any- report should contain florid embellishments, but all the same he felt these wretched things were owed more to mark their final moments than a few splashes of ink. Councilor Burnett would know what to say, he thought. He was good with words in a way that Talthis admired.
Admittedly, the man was full of double-talk and it was nearly impossible to get a read on him, but Sylmore Burnett was one of the few politicians in this corrupt city Talthis trusted to keep his word and put the good of the people above all else. Councilor Burnett also reported crimes and darker dealings more often to the guard and the Purifiers than the other councilors, frequently leading to the arrest or destruction of dangerous elements. He was an honorable, trustworthy man, Talthis decided.
He didn’t know the motive of his assailants. They seemed surprised to see him from what he could see of their masked faces, but they did not shy away from his steel, and had brandished their own. They were clearly a pair- their movements were intricate and practiced and the product of years of intimate cooperation. But they were merely a pair, and Talthis was used to facing Hordes. They were unprepared to receive the full weight of his conviction. His duty and his oath were to feed evil to the flames, and so when the tide of battle turned against them and they fled, he pursued.
He followed them to another residence in the district. The estate of the esteemed Daltimer family- nobility in their own right, though not members of the City Council. They consisted of the Lord and Lady Daltimer and their son, Revan. The family had been away on holiday over the new year- the vacancy probably what had made the comfortable estate attractive as a base of operations. He had slain them in the foyer of the home, the bodies burned with Quraura’s divine radiance. Talthis picked up his pen. 
“Sub-Commander Talthis reported the incident to and requested cleanup from Operations Sergeant Aaron Korthal. Sergeant Korthal offered protest as to being short staffed due to the holy day, and that there may be some delay. Inquiry into Sergeant Korthal’s demeanor to follow. The Light warm us all.” 
Talthis gave the ink a moment to dry before folding the report and sealing it with the white wax and emblem of the Purifiers. He slipped the letter into the breast pocket of his white woolen overcoat, and stepped out into the bleak Winter night. He was intent upon the City Hall. He doubted that anyone would be there, but he had a duty to deliver his report promptly to the High Marshall’s office, and he had a key. 
The streets were mostly empty of people as a gentle snowfall wrapped the city in a white blanket. It was quiet in a way that he rarely got to experience. The picture of peace and serenity was a façade- the true face of the city was one of corruption and violence, and the snow served only to allow the deluded citizens to think their city more beautiful than it was. The city was sick, and he would burn out the sickness. 
Talthis Vim found the Purifier offices empty. The hearth in the reception hall was cold and the room dark. Talthis stalked quietly through the hall to the Marshall’s office- there was no reason for him to sneak, but he was loathe to break the stillness. It seemed sacred, somehow. The great oaken door was already open, and he eased it further and slipped into the office. 
The Marshall’s office was a tall room with dark oak paneling. Heavy velvet curtains were drawn and held away from the wide, broad windows overlooking the courtyard. Talthis was struck by the view- the heavy snowfall was truly picturesque, and his breath caught in his throat. It escaped his lungs in a surprised curse when the curtains moved, revealing the form of the High Marshall Zed Willaby. 
The High Marshall regarded Talthis with an amused expression on his wrinkled face, “Did I startle you, Sub-Commander?”
Talthis comported himself and saluted. “My apologies, sir, I did not expect anyone to be here, sir.”
“Relax, Talthis,” the High Marshall said. Talthis dropped his salute but did not relax. “I was just… enjoying the view, I suppose. Working late, as are you, it seems.”
“Sir,” Talthis said. “I came to report an attack. I dispatched two assailants that attacked me in my home, I-“
“You may leave it, Talthis.” The High Marshall indicated his desk. “The night is too beautiful to discuss such dark tidings, and I’m sure they will still be dead tomorrow.”
Talthis nodded and withdrew his report, and laid it on the High Marshall’s desk. “Sir, I… May the Light guide you into the new year.”
“And you, Sub-Commander. You are a merit to our cause.” The High Marshall’s smile was a kind one that reached his eyes. 
“Thank you, sir.” Sub-Commander Talthis Vim bowed and departed the office, leaving the High Marshall to his musings. 
After he left, Zed Willaby crossed to the other side of the desk and picked up the commander’s report, breaking the seal with a thumb. He frowned as he read a few lines. He turned to the cold hearth in his office. A flame roared to life as he spoke a few words, and he cast the report into the flames.
Category:Allologue