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"Devon and Damien"Chapter 6: Act 1
Reklaw nodded. “On our mission, my friend and I came into meeting with a mercenary named Sebastion. Unfortunately, Sebastion died, under rather unimportant circumstances, before we could extract information that we require. He was traveling with a companion at the time, whose identity we do not know, and I suspect you are not at liberty to discuss. Did these two have a business partner or overseer that we may seek out, to ask them directly about the information we seek?” Everson revealed a quick, sly smile before hiding his face with a sip of wine. Doubtlessly he was aware of his company’s true intentions, having expected this contest of veiled interests from the beginning. “Sebastion is… was, indeed, a man of great renown for his great physical merits, as well as his lack of reason. It surprised me to learn that a man of such success and fortune met with such an untimely end.” Devon had never heard of Sebastion before the meeting with Nathan’s
assassin three days ago, although Reklaw apparently held his abilities
as a sword-for-hire in high regard. While Devon was somewhat out of
practice in his combat abilities, he was, in truth, a very dangerous
man. During his years as First General, and even before, he was regarded
as an expert in the field of martial combat and swordsmanship –
to be outmaneuvered and outclassed by an opponent in such a short amount
of time was unheard of for him. In truth, after the initial aftermath
of his fight with Sebastion, Devon at first was surprised at Sebastion’s
abilities, but later began to wonder if he was the one who was slipping. Everson grinned politely, feeling that perhaps Reklaw was making an allusion to his own skills, perhaps even issuing a veiled threat. Devon, in contrast, almost felt as though Reklaw was complimenting his own abilities as a soldier; although, coming from Reklaw, Devon was uncertain of whether this would ever be known. “There is a reason for his brutish power, his almost godlike speed, you must realize. I hold no doubt that already the beginnings of a legend are being formed in his name as both a man and a demon. Sebastion himself was far too much of a fool to work towards such a level on his own; he has always been another man’s dog, the physical form for a ruling shadow. “It is rumored that he was a man born of the Southern lands, raised by a certain member of the Providence group. That man specifically headed the importation of narcotic forms into these lands, and subsequently held great access to research in that field. Sebastion, amongst many others, were subject to numerous experiments of enhancing agents. To my knowledge, he was the only successor to these formulas – all others died either as a result of their use, or were executed for their failure as subjects. “His abilities were derived through those means. The source of these chemical agents has since vanished. Some say Sebastion himself killed his guardian and escaped, suspending the projects’ funding. Others say that the Providence Order felt the situation was out of control, garnering too much attention. I am uncertain.” Devon had heard neither of the illegal drug trade, nor of this ‘Providence’ group before now. It was becoming evident to the former First General that either he had failed in his former career, or that there was something much greater being orchestrated, out of the sight of normal men, even such as himself. What now troubled Devon was the realization that if indeed Everson knew who he was, he would also know of Devon’s ignorance to these matters. If this information was indeed so treasured, this existence of such an Order, Everson must either have plans for Devon’s death, or his manipulation. “Tell me,” Reklaw began, “as Sebastion was a wealthy man, a commonly hired strong arm, is there any rumor as to where his funds will go, or where they are located?” “That is relative to your initial question,” Everson said with a smile. “You see, although Sebastion was a vagrant warrior, he was always inexorably linked to a common interest. I believe this interest is one of the many baubles of Providence. You must surely realize the dire implications involved, subsequently.” Devon nodded. He had nearly no idea what was being discussed, but the subject matter obviously warranted concern. “So Sebastion was feeding his income to a higher source?” “Sir,” Everson replied, “when Providence is involved, it is the only source.” “Sebastion was easily controlled,” Reklaw interjected. “A man of incomparable power, but of emotional inadequacy, he often allowed himself to be badgered until he snapped. Providence is a gentle pain, solemn and fierce. It’s a simple matter to ignore the question of ‘Why?’ and ask ‘Who?’ “The answer should be obvious,” Everson replied. “I cannot say. It is fact that I do not know myself. That is the substantial answer I can give you. “What I may surmise,” Everson said, emphasizing what he was about to say, “is that certain… events that have transpired recently, are not the work of a political faction. Providence is at work in all things, and of this matter I believe its hand is firmly about. For the information you seek, for the identity you wish to procure, I suggest you visit the Hessean Great Cathedral. The answers you seek, you will find there. Providence plays a great role in the church, you see,” he ended with a smirk. “Are any of the Order in the church women?” Reklaw asked. “Only one.” Everson stated the information powerfully, as though to say, You know all you need to know now. “Thank you,” Devon said. “The remainder of your payment will arrive in one week,” Reklaw added. “This will be fine,” Everson said, indicating the bag of coins he procured earlier. “Your payment will come in other forms.” Reklaw once again pulled aside his mask to eat, scarcely revealing his face. If he was as relieved as his partner, Devon could not see it. The storm had passed. Little was said for the remainder of the meal.
After Devon and Reklaw had both retired for the evening, Everson remained at the table, still picking at his meal. “Sir,” Joshua began, emerging from an adjacent room, having remained silent for the duration of the meeting, “I am doubtless that my peers will be displeased with your divulgence of our workings so simply, especially in the presence of Tristam.” “I realize that, Joshua,” Everson solemnly stated. “I also apologize. You act as the eyes of Providence here; witnessing my transgression must have been like a slap in the face. It is of little consequence to the order, however. The mercenary knows how things work, and Devon, albeit uninformed, is a quick study. There will be no publicity.” Joshua sighed, reminding himself of his dual purpose in residing in the mansion. “It is tolerable. We are a guide after all, not a grasping hand.” “When you make your report, send the 1,000 pieces with the messenger. Tell them… that it is a late tithe.” Joshua eyed his employer questionably. “For your sake, this had better work out to our advantage.” “Yes, sir,” Everson replied, without hesitation. “Get the dishes,” he continued, rising from his seat. “Yes, sir.”
Devon walked alongside Reklaw, eyeing his partner with introspective eyes. He dearly wanted to ask the most obvious of questions, but felt uncertain of whether he should. Reklaw remained silent, although Devon was certain he knew the questions would eventually come. Everson’s assuring conclusion was evidence enough that he did not know ultimately who would wish Nathan dead; however, Nathan’s wife Calista was indeed involved. Devon had spoken with Calista, had dinner with her and Nathan on several occasions. She was far from the type of woman to plot any sort of devices against even enemies of the monarchy. The idea that she was capable of murdering her husband, even by proxy, was unbelievable. If indeed a subversive group was involved, Devon was certain that Calista was being manipulated. However, Calista had bore no child, and desired no fortune. With enduring sincerity, she had no desire in her life other than to work for the benefit of the monarchy, to honor her husband, and to always be in service to the Almighty. What possible threat could be imposed upon her to make her play even the smallest role in such a disaster? Everson had already essentially confirmed without room for doubt that Calista was the informant to her own husband’s assassin. The two men reached their room quickly, both having unnoticeably hurried their pace. “Get your things,” Reklaw finally spoke. “So?” Devon asked, demanding the obvious. Reklaw sighed. “You must know we haven’t the time for this.” Devon folded his arms and scowled. “You know I can’t accept that. I have to know what’s going on before I take… this as a course of action.” “Don’t let your perceptions of her get in the way of your job, or in my way, Tristam,” Reklaw stated, obviously annoyed. The mercenary continued to navigate his belongings, organizing items and looking through documents, obviously mechanically planning for later. “You don’t care about anyone, do you?” Devon said, sticking his finger promptly into Reklaw’s face. “Save it,” Reklaw said, slapping Devon’s hand away, ignoring his belongings. “You can’t begin to understand how much trouble this has become. This is beyond you.” “Then educate me.” Reklaw sighed. He moved towards the door and began pacing as he ran his hand across his face. “Look,” he said, pointing a hand at the First General. “You have to keep your mouth shut about this. You can’t tell anyone about what Everson said, what I’m about to say. This information has to stay with you until you die. You may have to die, in fact, to protect this information. It is direly important that in no manner is the public to ever possess knowledge of this magnitude. It baffles me as to why Everson entrusted it to you. I wanted to strike him down throughout the entire meal for even speaking its name, but I played his game. Now you have to play mine.” “Agreed,” Devon replied. Reklaw gave him an agitated look, as though questioning Devon’s sincerity. “…I give you my word.” Reklaw sighed again, sitting down on the edge of his bed. “Providence,” he began, “is an order as old as history. It is not a group, so much as it is a way of life. Its members, its followers, act as servants to the public, giving up their own wills towards the benefit of what they perceive to be God’s will. They are the controlling factor in all world events. Their hand reaches beyond our knowledge of the world’s borders, to the hidden nations of the Northern lands beyond the Great Sea. “The War of the Dog was their doing. That much should tell you of what their influence composes. To alter the world to benefit the will of God is their objective in all matters. However, they do not consider themselves the leaders of the world, they consider themselves to be its lowliest servants. Many men and women, their children, have sacrificed wealth, liberty and their lives to change the world into a better place.” “Ridiculous,” Devon scoffed. “That would be sacrilege. No man, no matter how pure, is always defiled by sin. To wield power in the name of God is to assume that God’s will is your own. God’s will accomplishes itself, there is no need for men to actively seek it.” “Once again, you misunderstand. No member of Providence holds any power. They are servants, advisors to those that shape the world. They assume that if their meager lives are enough to alter the future, not through manipulation, but through suggestion, then God’s will has been fulfilled. Providence is often accomplished through the impoverished, the slaves of ‘greater,’ worldly men. I was uncertain at first, and still am surprised that Calista is one of them. All members of Providence that I am aware of are poor, timid creatures that barely are known to even exist in popular culture. Aside from Calista, you would recognize none of their names. To have a member in such a position is regarded as next to sin in the eyes of the Order.” “So you’re suggesting she had her husband killed to remove herself from power?” “Don’t be absurd, Devon. As I recall, she married into the royal family from the streets. Undoubtedly she was a member before then, and if so, would have never allowed herself to marry in the first place. Aside from that, Providence does not murder. It may lead the way to death, but only in the name of life, and placed in the hands of normal men, such as ourselves.” “So then… what of Calista’s intentions?” “Good question. There are two concerns on my mind. One is why Calista was allowed to marry into power, or was made a member while in power. The other is obviously why she has actively played the role in Nathan’s death. Usually, a member will attempt to influence local events in such a way that major political factions will act out on their own, but as Everson said, this is not the work of a political player.” “Her relationship with her target doesn’t concern you?” “Stranger things have happened within the order. Husband and wife is a meaningless relationship to most of the order, compared to one’s relationship with God. They are… what I would call fanatical. What I believe to be key at this point is actually the drug trade that occurred within the order – obviously, not something Providence smiles upon, which must be why it was shut down, when it was discovered.” “The enhancing agents Sebastion was subjected to?” “Yes… Everson did not mention directly that this was an oddity, Providence having a member dealing with the occult. It’s odd he wouldn’t point out something so obvious. I think he means to tell us that something has happened, or may be happening to the order.” “A schism of interests?” Devon thought to himself. “It would be a first for Providence, but they are mortal men,” Reklaw replied, placing his hand to his chin in thought. “Do you believe that Calista herself is a dissenter?” “I don’t know,” Reklaw replied, rising from the bed. “This entire situation seems very dangerous. If any sort of separation occurs within the order, it would bring absolute chaos. Our two kingdoms would crumble merely out of absence of the order. I don’t like Providence, but I accept it as an integral, necessary component to maintain this region, and the world. As long as it’s been around, it’s the backbone of society. If this has become a volatile situation, it doesn’t need publicity of any kind, so we have to be careful. If an open conflict comes out of this… you can imagine what would happen. Entire coalitions of nations would descend upon our country as peacekeepers, effectively seizing our government.” “I’m aware of several that would cherish that.” “Undoubtedly, many people are crying out for a democracy within Hessea and Boria. We could be witnessing the beginning of a new war.” “I’ll have to inform the king.” “You cannot, under any circumstance. If the king were to know about any of this, he would try to help us. He may very well attempt to root out the order’s members. We have to know more before we can act, before you report anything. But we have to hurry.” Reklaw shook his head in frustration. “You seem to be a magnet for problems, you know.” Devon laughed, nervously. “How so?” “Beyond the obvious, the question of why Everson’s father, Paulson, is still alive. The existence of a drug trade is deeply troubling as well.” “You don’t like being in the dark, do you?” Devon said with a smile. “No,” Reklaw replied emphatically. “Now hurry up and pack. We need to cover a lot of ground to be able to make it to Garamont by tomorrow. Undoubtedly, our assassin believes you to be dead, with Sebastion on his way to the Great Cathedral there. With luck, we should be able to capture him there, as I’m certain he has been slow in his journey, undoubtedly unconcerned about the prospects of being followed.” Devon nodded, slightly relieved that he was no longer in the dark, but worried that he was now in over his head. “By the way,” he began, “you aren’t one of them, are you?” “Providence?” Reklaw said, almost laughing. “My knowledge of their workings comes from other means, the same as Everson.” “He’s not one of the order?” “He has too much influence. Although I’m sure someone here is a member, otherwise he would not know of their existence. Someone in this mansion is attempting to guide his decisions, which isn’t surprising, given Everson’s authority. We haven’t the time or reason to wonder who.” “So how do you know of them?” Devon asked, throwing his bag over his shoulder. “Often I wish I didn’t know of them. Our paths crossed decades ago; it was the reason I became a mercenary, and it’s also really none of your business. Now let’s go.” |
