Chapter 45. The Promised Day - Part 1
Dawn crept over the Dregs like a thief.
In the grey half-light, a rooster shifted on his perch, preparing for his sacred morning duty. Every morning since he could remember, he'd announced the sun's arrival to his corner of the world. The ritual was about to begin.
He puffed up his chest, tilted his head back, opened his beak-
And then he saw it.
The most dangerous animal on this planet. A violent creature filled with hateful thoughts and a lust for violence. Teeth like razors, to suck the meat from your bones.
The dog came barreling around the corner, tongue lolling, eyes fixed on feathers.
The rooster's war cry turned into a squawk of terror. He abandoned his post with desperate dignity, flapping through the falling snow as a boy's voice rang out behind him:
"Rex!"
Such was the vile beast's name.
"Rex, get back here!"
The rooster fled past Ms. Mabel's bread stall, sending her fresh loaves tumbling. Past Old Tom the cobbler, who raised his cane in solidarity - he too knew the terror of those teeth. Through puddles of melting snow, sending icy droplets flying, while that monster bounded after him with unholy glee.
"Sorry Ms. Mabel! Sorry Mr. Tom!" the boy called out, chasing after them.
The rooster's wings carried him over barrels and under washing lines, his dignity forgotten with each desperate flap. He'd seen what happened to Clarence last spring. Poor Clarence, who'd been too slow, too proud to run. Now nothing remained of him but a cautionary tale and a few scattered feathers.
Not today. Not this rooster.
Snow fell softly on the Dregs as the boy chased his little dog through narrow streets, past boarded windows and walls plastered with wanted posters. Steam rose from his breath as he called out...
"Rex! Come on! Leave the chicken alone!"
The dog - a scraggly mutt with mismatched ears - darted between carts and around corners, kicking up fresh powder, the terrified rooster just barely keeping ahead. Market stalls were just starting to open, vendors diving out of the way as chicken and dog barreled past. Imperial soldiers watched with hands on their weapons, scowling at the commotion.
"No running!" one of the soldiers barked as the boy rushed past, nearly slipping in the snow. The boy slowed, but neither dog nor chicken paid any heed to imperial authority.
The rooster, seeing salvation, banked hard toward the northern quarter where blue and silver banners of the Mage Council hung from lamp posts. Surely these mighty wizards would protect one of their feathered brethren. More soldiers stood guard there, hands on sword hilts, watching the growing chaos with hard eyes.
Rex bounded after his prey, either oblivious to the danger or not caring. Just before he could dart between the soldiers' legs after the frantically flapping rooster, a hand caught his collar.
"Whoa there, buddy." An older boy - the boy savior - who'd grabbed Rex crouched down, scratching behind those mismatched ears. "Let's not cause trouble today."
The dog immediately flopped onto its back in the snow, tail wagging as it begged for belly rubs.
"Rex!" The younger boy caught up, panting. "I'm so sorry, he just-"
"No harm done." The older boy - Adom - gave the dog one last pat before standing. Snow clung to his dark coat. "Though you might want to keep him closer. Things are a bit tense right now."
The boy scuffed his worn boot in the snow. "I know. I just got bored sitting inside all day. Ma won't let me go anywhere anymore and most stores are closed now, 'specially the candy ones." He glanced around at the empty stalls and quiet streets. "The city's not even fun now."
"Yeah, I know how that feels." Adom reached into his pocket and pulled out something wrapped in wax paper. "Here."
It was Veyshari candy - made from tree sap they tapped in spring, boiled down with spices until it turned golden and hard as glass. The boy's eyes went wide as Adom handed it over.
"Really?"
"Really. Just try to stay in the safer parts of the Dregs, alright? At least until things calm down."
The boy nodded eagerly, already unwrapping the candy. Rex whined, nose twitching at the sweet smell, tail wagging hopefully as he looked up at Adom.
"Oh, alright." Adom laughed, pulling out another piece. "Here you go, troublemaker."
Rex snatched the candy delicately from his fingers, tail thumping against the snow.
"Thanks big bro!" The boy tugged gently on Rex's collar. "C'mon boy, let's go home."
Adom watched them disappear around a corner, the boy's excited chatter fading into the morning sounds of the Dregs - cart wheels creaking through snow, vendors calling their wares, the clank of Imperial armor on patrol.
"Adom," Valiant's whisper came from the small hole in his pocket. "Look up there, on the roof of that little house."
The rooster stood on the snow-dusted shingles, watching them. As Adom met its gaze, it tilted its head, nodded once, and strutted away.
"Did it just... nod at you?"
"Yeah," Adom said softly. "I think it did."
"Because you saved it from the dog?" Valiant paused. "Were chickens ever that smart?"
Adom adjusted his face mask, his hooded face tilted down against the snow as they continued walking. "No idea. But hey, maybe they see more than we think."
The snow crunched under Adom's boots as they made their way through the quieter streets of the Dregs. Imperial patrols were thinner here, where the buildings leaned together like old drunks sharing secrets.
"You sure about this Thormund guy?" Adom kept his voice low, barely above a whisper. "Last time I saw him, he was trying to punch your uncle's teeth out."
"Because," Valiant cut in from the pocket, "that's just how he is. And he's also the guy who lost an arm getting that wyvern heart you ordered."
"Wait..." Adom's steps faltered as the memory surfaced. "Right. Cisco mentioned that. Said his one of his men lost an arm getting it. I just... with everything that happened after..."
"Forgot about it?" Valiant's voice held no judgment. "Yeah, well, that's Thormund for you. Might try to punch you one day, but he'll die keeping his word." A pause. "Look, I know he's... rough. Used to drive my uncle crazy with his freeman ways. Always drinking, telling inappropriate jokes, starting bar fights. But he was loyal. That's why Uncle Cisco kept him close, even when they fought."
They passed a boarded-up tavern, its windows dark. More wanted posters plastered its walls. One caught his eye - a crude sketch of a massive man with one arm, labeled "DANGEROUS - APPROACH WITH CAUTION."
"Found his name in those documents too," Valiant continued. "The ones from the Undertow? He's on Marco's hit list, right up there with us. Bastard's trying to clean house, kill anyone who might still be loyal to my uncle."
"And you think Thormund can help us get to the others? The ones still loyal to Cisco?"
"He's our best shot." Something hard entered Valiant's voice. "These people trusted my uncle. Fought for him. Then Marco betrayed him, killed him, and now he's hunting them down one by one. They'll want revenge just as much as I do."
Adom nodded slowly. "And Thormund can lead us to them."
"If anyone can, it's him. Man's got connections all through the freeman clans. Plus," Valiant added with a hint of pride, "he once broke a man's jaw for suggesting my uncle wasn't treating his people right. Knocked out three teeth with his remaining arm."
"Charming."
"Hey, freeman culture's different. That kind of thing means something to them." Valiant shifted again. "Point is, he's exactly what we need right now. Someone who can rally the old crew, someone they'll listen to."
"Someone who hates Marco as much as you do?"
"Exactly." Valiant's whiskers twitched. "Now shut up - we're getting close to the meeting spot."
Valiant was, well, Valiant - all sass and terrible puns wrapped in fur. But being Cisco's nephew, it seemed, had left its mark in more interesting ways than Adom initially thought.
The networks, the whispered words in dark corners, the way information flowed through the city's underbelly - he'd absorbed it all while perched on his uncle's shoulder. So when they needed to find Thormund and the others who'd kept faith with Cisco instead of bowing to Marco's betrayal, it took him exactly one day to arrange this meeting.
They came to a stop before a crumbling townhouse wedged between a bakery and what used to be an Imperial tax office. Like most buildings in this part of the Dregs, its windows were boarded up, snow gathering on the sills.
"Alright," Valiant whispered from the pocket, "pigeon network says we need to go through the cellar. There's a loose board in the floor - third from the left wall, about halfway down. Pull it up, you'll find a brass key."
The cellar doors were chained shut, rust coating the links. Adom found the padlock wasn't even locked - just made to look that way.
Inside, the cellar smelled of damp earth and old wine. Adom counted floorboards, found the loose one. The key was exactly where Valiant said it would be.
"Back outside," Valiant directed. "See that window on the second floor? The one with the blue curtain? Count three bricks down from it, then four to the right. Push in."
The brick slid back with a soft click. A keyhole appeared.
"Your uncle had this place the whole time?"
"One of many. Safe houses scattered all through the city. Marco found most of them, but this one..." Valiant's whiskers twitched. "This one was special. Uncle never even told Marco about it."
The key turned smoothly. A section of wall swung inward, revealing a narrow corridor. As soon as Adom stepped inside, he felt the familiar tingle of enchantment wash over him.
"Protection wards," Valiant explained. "Anyone trying to break in gets... redirected. Ends up three streets over, wondering why they're suddenly craving pickled herring."
"Specific."
"Uncle Cisco had a weird sense of humor."
They moved deeper into the corridor. Adom's boots made no sound on the floor - more enchantments. Somewhere ahead, something creaked.
[Flow Prediction] flared to life in Adom's mind. Without thinking, he wove a shield of force. Steel rang against magic as a sword swept through where his neck had been a heartbeat before.
Adom's hands were already moving through the gestures for a binding spell when a voice boomed:
"STOP!"
Heavy footsteps. A massive shape emerged from the shadows - a man built like a bear, missing his left arm at the shoulder. The same man Adom remembered trying to knock Cisco's teeth out that one day.
Thormund.
The big man cuffed Adom's would-be attacker upside the head with his remaining hand. "Idiot! These are the ones we're waiting for!"
"Ow! How was I supposed to know?"
"Because I told you they were coming! Were you drunk again during the briefing?"
"...maybe."
Thormund turned to Adom, shaking his head. "Sorry about that. Can't be too careful these days, but Dern here" - another cuff to the attacker's head - "needs to learn to listen better."
The half-formed binding spell faded from Adom's fingers as he lowered his hands. "It's fine. Better careful than dead these days." He pulled down his face mask and pushed back his hood, snow melting in his dark hair.
Thormund's eyes narrowed. "You're the mage from last time."
"Yeah. Sorry about..." Adom gestured vaguely at his face, remembering how Thormund had ended up unconscious after trying to hit Cisco.
"Ha! Good block that day. Caught me by surprise." Thormund stepped forward, extending his remaining hand. "Thormund, son of Bjornir, of the Northern Clans. Had the honor of fighting a wyvern thanks to your order." He rolled his shoulder where the left arm should have been. "Got a nice souvenir too."
"I'm so sorry about-"
"Not at all!" Thormund's laugh filled the corridor. "You should see how the wyvern looked after. Besides, we freeman wear our battle scars like medals. Shows we lived through something worth fighting."