Corrupted blood lord

Marak’s body lay half-submerged in the mud.

Mist drifted through the ruined shrine, thin enough for the dead bandits scattered beyond the broken walls to appear and disappear whenever the wind shifted. Teclos stood over the corpse until the last thread of stolen mana entered his hand.

It was not much.

None of them had been.

He turned.

Axel waited at the edge of the ruins with the dark chain hanging from his neck. Mud covered his boots and the hem of his torn clothes. Weeks had passed since Teclos last punished him properly. There had always been another camp to clear, another road to open, another payment waiting at Veyron’s fortress.

Axel had mistaken distraction for mercy.

"Now it’s your turn, old man," Teclos said. "I’ve had enough fun torturing you."

Axel’s shoulders sagged.

"So it’s time."

Teclos wound the chain around his fist and pulled.

Axel stumbled forward, but a root burst from the mud and wrapped around his ankle. More vines followed, twisting around nearby stones as he tried to anchor himself.

Teclos gave the chain another sharp tug.

The vines tore apart.

Axel was dragged across the shrine floor and thrown at Teclos’s feet.

"You could still walk away from this," Axel said.

"I could."

"But you won’t."

Teclos crouched and gripped the old man by the jaw.

"You knew what Aweq was doing. You knew people disappeared beneath his castle, yet you remained beside him."

"I knew enough to be ashamed."

"Shame is cheap."

"So is revenge."

Teclos’s thumb pressed into the flesh beneath Axel’s eye.

Axel did not look away.

"You have killed everyone else," he continued. "The count. His wife. His daughter. Soldiers, beasts, and bandits. Has any of it brought Saldia back?"

The name stripped away what little patience Teclos had left.

He slammed Axel’s head against the stone.

Once.

Twice.

On the third impact, blood spread beneath the old man’s skull.

Teclos released him, only to drive his boot down upon Axel’s hand. Bones broke beneath his heel.

Axel groaned and tried to pull away.

Darkness pinned his arm to the ground.

Teclos crushed the other hand next.

"You do not get to say her name."

Axel breathed through clenched teeth.

"She would hate what you have become."

A dark tendril drove into his shoulder and lifted him from the floor.

Teclos flung him through the remains of the shrine wall.

Stone collapsed around Axel. He tried to rise, but one leg bent beneath him before he could place any weight on it.

Teclos walked through the dust.

Axel raised both damaged hands. Vines erupted between the stones, thickening into a tangled barrier.

A blade of darkness passed through them.

The vines fell apart.

Teclos seized Axel by the throat and drove him against the wall hard enough to crack it.

"You watched me suffer."

"I tried to help you."

"You served the man who handed people to Luther."

"I served myself," Axel rasped. "That is the truth you want, isn’t it? I was comfortable. I told myself I could limit the damage while enjoying everything Aweq gave me."

Teclos struck him in the ribs.

Something snapped.

Axel coughed blood onto Teclos’s sleeve.

"At least you finally admit it."

"I admitted it days ago."

"Then you understand why this is happening."

"No." Axel’s voice trembled, but he forced the word out. "I understand why you hate me. This is something else."

Teclos dropped him.

Before Axel struck the floor, darkness caught both his legs and pulled them apart.

His hips slammed against the stone.

Teclos brought his heel down upon one knee.

The joint gave way with a sickening crack.

Axel screamed.

The sound echoed through the marsh.

Teclos broke the second leg more slowly. He pressed until bone shifted beneath the skin, paused when Axel began pleading, and then forced the limb beyond where it could bend.

The old man’s scream ended in a choking gasp.

Teclos removed a healing potion from his ring.

Axel saw it and shook his head.

"No."

Teclos knelt beside him.

"No more?" he asked.

Axel tried to crawl away using his elbows.

Teclos caught his hair and forced the potion between his teeth. The bottle cracked against them, cutting his lips as red liquid flooded his mouth.

Magic spread through his body.

His knees pulled themselves back into place. Splintered bones ground together beneath the skin. His broken hands straightened finger by finger.

Axel shook violently while the potion repaired him.

When it finished, Teclos dragged him upright.

Then he broke him again.

The sun climbed above the marsh as the punishment continued.

Teclos shattered Axel’s arms and healed them. He crushed his ribs until breathing became impossible, then poured another potion down his throat before his heart could stop. Whenever Axel tried to summon his vines, darkness tore through the roots before they reached the surface.

Every recovery gave Teclos something whole to ruin.

By midday, the old man no longer insulted him.

By afternoon, he no longer argued.

He begged.

"Please," Axel whispered.

Teclos sat upon a fallen piece of the shrine while Axel lay before him, trembling inside his blood-soaked clothes. One eye had swollen shut. His fingers twitched against the mud, unable to support his weight.

"Please what?"

Axel swallowed.

"Kill me."

Teclos watched him for a long moment.

Weeks earlier, Axel had accused him of sounding like Luther.

The words returned now, unwanted and clear.

Teclos looked down at his own hands. Blood filled the spaces beneath his nails and covered his knuckles. He had imagined this moment many times. He had expected satisfaction, perhaps even relief.

There was only silence inside him.

Axel drew another ragged breath.

"I was wrong," he whispered. "I was a coward. I knew enough to leave, and I stayed. If you need to hear me say it, then hear it. I deserve your hatred."

His remaining eye found Teclos.

"But please... finish it."

Teclos rose.

Axel did not resist when the dark blade formed.

"Tell my mother I am sorry," Teclos said.

Axel’s mouth moved into the faintest, saddest smile.

"If there is anything after this," he breathed, "I will."

The blade passed through his heart.

Axel jerked once.

Then the tension left his body.

Teclos remained beside him until the old man stopped breathing. He removed the chain from Axel’s neck and allowed it to dissolve above the mud.

For the first time since leaving Alvar, no one followed when he walked away.

—

Count Veyron received him two days later.

The count’s treasury had grown heavy from reopened roads and recovered wealth. Merchants filled the town beneath his fortress, and caravans now arrived from every direction without hiring small armies to escort them.

Veyron looked pleased.

He also noticed immediately that Teclos had returned alone.

"Where is your servant?"

"Dead."

The count waited for more.

None came.

Veyron pushed a sealed report across the table.

"Then I suppose you have room for another task."

Teclos broke the seal.

The report listed attacks along the southern farms. Livestock had been found drained of blood. Two shepherds had disappeared, along with a patrol sent to search for them. Tracks suggested several different creatures moving together.

"Monster extermination," Veyron said. "The attacks began three nights ago."

"What kind?"

"If I knew, I would have written it down."

Teclos read the report again.

The missing patrol had contained two circle users. Whatever had killed them might be worth the journey.

"When do I leave?"

"Tomorrow. My men are gathering maps and supplies."

Teclos folded the report and placed it inside his cloak.

Veyron leaned back.

"You have made me a rich man."

"You were already rich."

"Richer, then."

"That sounds like your problem."

The count laughed.

Few people spoke to him that way. Fewer still remained useful afterward.

"Take the evening," Veyron said. "You have earned it."

Teclos left without thanking him.

—

He chose an inn near the southern gate.

The common room was crowded when he entered, but conversation thinned almost immediately. Word of the stranger who had cleared Veyron’s roads had spread throughout the territory.

Some claimed Teclos had slaughtered hundreds.

Others said he ate the hearts of those he killed.

The truth was enough to make people afraid, but fear had never stopped stories from becoming worse.

Teclos placed a coin on the counter and asked for a room.

The innkeeper handed him a key without meeting his eyes.

As Teclos turned away, someone brushed against his side.

A small hand slipped beneath his cloak.

Teclos caught the wrist before the fingers reached his purse.

The boy attached to it could not have been older than twelve. He was thin, filthy, and quick enough that no one else in the room had noticed the attempt.

His face went pale when he realized whose pocket he had chosen.

Teclos looked down at him.

"That was brave."

"I’m sorry."

"No, you aren’t."

The boy twisted, trying to free himself.

Teclos tightened his grip just enough to stop him.

Several patrons quietly moved away from the tables nearest them.

The boy glanced toward the door.

Teclos followed his gaze.

A second child stood outside the window, watching from the alley. The moment their eyes met, the child disappeared.

He was not working alone.

"Who sent you?" Teclos asked.

"No one."

"Where do you take what you steal?"

The boy pressed his lips together.

Teclos could have broken his wrist.

Instead, he released it.

The boy stumbled backward, surprised.

"Go," Teclos said.

He hesitated.

Teclos placed a silver coin on the table between them.

"Tell whoever controls the back alleys that I am looking for information."

"What kind?"

Teclos thought of monsters, missing patrols, smugglers, and every secret that never reached a count’s maps.

"All of it."

The boy snatched the coin.

"What name do I give?"

"Teclos."

Recognition flashed across his face.

This time, the fear was immediate.

He ran.

Teclos watched him disappear through the door and vanish into the evening crowd.

The southern farms could wait until morning.

Tonight, the back alleys had just learned he was interested in them.

The answer came less than an hour later.

Teclos had barely finished eating when the same boy appeared in the inn’s doorway. He remained outside, one hand pressed against the frame as though stepping inside might trap him there.

"He’ll see you," the boy said.

Teclos rose.

"Lead the way."

The boy guided him through the southern district, slipping between market stalls and turning down streets that grew narrower with every corner. Stone buildings leaned toward one another above them, blocking out most of the moonlight.

They eventually reached an alley hidden behind an abandoned bathhouse.

Two men guarded a reinforced door at the far end.

Both straightened when Teclos approached.

"No weapons inside," one said.

Teclos walked past him.

The man grabbed his shoulder.

Darkness wrapped around his wrist and bent it backward until bone cracked. He collapsed with a strangled cry while his companion reached for a knife.

Teclos glanced at him.

The knife remained inside its sheath.

"Good choice."

The boy opened the door.

A staircase led beneath the bathhouse into a wide cellar filled with smoke, gambling tables, stolen goods, and people who stopped talking the moment Teclos entered.

More than twenty men occupied the room.

At the far end, a broad man sat behind a table covered with coins. Rings decorated nearly every finger, and a jagged scar ran from his forehead to his jaw.

"So you’re Teclos," he said.

"And you control these alleys?"

The man smiled.

"Zerrik controls everything south of the fortress. Thieves, smugglers, beggars, girls, information. Nothing moves without me hearing about it."

Teclos approached the table.

Zerrik’s men spread around him.

"I need information about the southern farms," Teclos said. "Missing patrols. Drained animals. Anything unusual moving through the countryside."

"And what do I get?"

"You keep breathing."

The room went silent.

Zerrik slowly stood.

"You walk into my den, threaten me in front of my people, and expect me to serve you?"

"No."

Teclos rested one hand on the table.

"I expect you to refuse."

Zerrik drew a short sword from beneath his coat.

The blade never reached Teclos.

A black spike rose through the table and pierced Zerrik beneath the chin. It burst from the top of his skull, lifting him from his feet before the sword slipped from his fingers.

Blood ran across the coins.

No one moved.

Teclos allowed the body to fall behind the table.

One of the men near the stairs tried to escape.

A tendril caught his ankle and dragged him back into the cellar.

Teclos looked around the room.

"Anyone else?"

Weapons were lowered one after another.

The boy who had guided him there stared at Zerrik’s corpse with his mouth hanging open.

Teclos took the dead man’s chair and sat down.

"From now on, you answer to me. I do not care what you steal, sell, or smuggle unless it interferes with my work."

A thin man near the wall swallowed.

"And what work is that?"

"Information."

Teclos picked up one of the bloodstained coins and rolled it between his fingers.

"You hear about monsters, unusual travelers, hidden fighters, nobles moving men in secret, or anything powerful enough to interest me, and the information reaches me first."

"And if it doesn’t?"

Teclos looked toward Zerrik.

No explanation was needed.

The thin man bowed his head.

"As you command."

Teclos glanced at the young pickpocket.

"You."

The boy flinched.

"You brought me here. That makes you responsible for carrying messages between this place and the inn."

The boy looked at Zerrik again.

"Do I get paid?"

A faint smile touched Teclos’s face.

He tossed him the coin.

"Now you do."

By midnight, the back alleys belonged to Teclos.

Before sunrise, the first report about the southern farms was already waiting outside his room.