Faust’s gaze traveled south. Candlelight reflected off two intricate lockets hanging off Vasil’s belt. They were the same pattern as the red locket he’d found in Roltan, except one held sky-blue gems and the other dark purple.
Vasil shifted on his feet.
Faust jerked his attention back to the deity’s face.
Vasil tossed the wet rag into a basket near the door, his eyes never leaving Faust.
The High King stared into Vasil’s dark grey eyes, a far deeper grey than Ignas’s. Faust cleared his throat and avoided Vasil’s gaze. “Put a tunic on.”
Vasil made a sound in the back of his throat sounding far too pleased. “I believe you like me like this, Lord Arcus.”
Faust whipped his gaze back, glaring. “Tunic. Now.” Vasil may have been nice to look at, but the deity was not Ignas. He needed to keep Vasil at a distance.
Vasil strolled over to the wardrobe and unhooked the locks. He stared at the dark tunics inside, heaving a sigh. He picked out a black tunic.
Faust pursed his lips. He didn’t enjoy seeing someone else wearing Ignas’s tunic. It fit Vasil a little too well, almost too tightly. Vasil was more muscular than his mercenary.
Faust paused. Ignas wasn’t his anymore. He needed to stop doing that. “Roe will be back shortly with a wheelkin.”
“There is no need,” Vasil frowned. “I can carry you.”
“You will do no such thing.”
“There is nothing wrong with needing help.”
Faust narrowed his eyes. He didn’t want to be in the deity’s arms was all.
“It will be much faster. You will want to see the town. It was a swift victory,” Vasil said.
Faust was certain it had been with how much magic lingered in the wind.
The door opened again.
Roe rolled the wheelkin inside and glared at Vasil. “Are you all right, Lord Arcus?”
“I am.” Faust was happy for the distraction and examined the rolling chair. It was a newer model with metal gears and wood.
“This model was to be introduced if talks had gone well,” Roe said.
Faust’s face fell. “We will get there again.”
“I have faith we will.” Roe agreed. “Please have a seat, Lord Arcus.”
Faust shuffled to the edge of the bed and took a seat on the plush chair. He set his feet on the small step at the base of the legs and Roe covered his legs with a pelt.
Roe handed Faust a pair of glasses once more.
Faust smiled his thanks and slipped them on, aware of Vasil’s intense stare again. The deity seemed to have a thing for these glasses.
Vasil stepped in front of Faust. He stared down at him, assessing the High King.
Faust kept his expression neutral, but his heart beat fast in his chest. He was most certain Vasil could hear it.
Roe spun Faust around.
Faust’s world tilted, his vision blurry as Roe rolled him through the door. He tensed at the rise of Vasil’s magic behind him. The healer would die if he wasn’t careful. Vasil’s heavy footsteps followed, the air crackling with fire magic. Faust didn’t dare turn his head back to the deity.
Once he was outside, Faust clenched his fists. While most of the buildings were intact, there were bodies everywhere he looked. Nobles of all shapes and sizes were on their knees in front of what appeared to be a town hall. The people of the town held anything they could brandish as a weapon, their eyes dark.
His gaze drifted over the people, his eyebrows furrowed. Some were wearing nothing but a drape. He looked around and paused. There was a brothel house here, and from the way the people were shielding each other, the brothel house functioned much like the other vile ones he’d come across. The corrupt made them intending to sate their lusts without consequence. Brothel houses needed to be outlawed. Faust would make sure of it.
Vasil stopped at Faust’s side.
“We will now list the crimes made against the people of Windilum,” Earl said with his hands behind his back. The guild master wore a mixture of metal and leather armor and furs. A pack of wolves surrounded him. They watched the nobles with lazy gazes, but one stood by Earl, ready for action.
Faust gripped his armrests. He didn’t realize Earl also had wolves. The guild master hadn’t had them in Alios. He hoped these wolves stayed away from him. The sight of them made his hair stand on end.
The wolf by Earl turned its gaze on Faust.
Faust stilled.
The wolf continued to stare.
Vasil took a step forward and a sharp rise in the deity’s magic followed.
The wolf turned away.
Faust released a shallow breath in an attempt to still his pounding heart.
“You have no right to prosecute us,” a noble spat. “We have broken no laws set by Duke Easton.”
Earl didn’t even blink. “You are not the rulers of Windilum. The people who hold the most power are the Chevaliar and the kin of the first King of Windilum. It will not be long before the Commandant joins them.”
Vasil stiffened.
Faust thought Lathil wiped the Chevaliar out. Earl spoke as if a Chevaliar had survived. They must have been the real mastermind behind all this. Ignas probably knew who it was too.
The noble snarled. “The Chevaliar are dead.”
“They live on, and you will heed the rule of a Chevaliar,” Vasil growled.
“As he says, and I’d listen to him if I were you,” Earl beamed with a shrug of his shoulders.
“I will not listen to a crazed mercenary!”
Earl remained calm and collected. “Each of you will be held accountable for your crimes against the people of Windilum.”
The same noble moved to his feet and charged Earl.
A gunshot rolled through the air.
The noble fell to the ground in a boneless heap.
Faust startled. The noble’s eyes were still open as blood pooled around him. Faust glanced at Vasil, his stomach in knots. The deity had moved so fast, and Earl hadn’t even flinched at the interruption.
The wolves growled, each barring their teeth. A few barked, and nobles flinched.
Faust trembled, his palms growing sweaty.
The air grew tense, the panic rising with it.
Another noble screamed and lifted himself into a sprint. The man yelled for someone to help him as he stumbled about, offering money and various luxuries.
The wolves stood, but Earl clicked his tongue three times, and they sat again.
Vasil casually aimed, his eyes on Earl. “Which one is he?”
“Brothel enforcer and owner,” Earl replied.
Vasil put the gun away and walked over to the side of the town hall. The deity picked up a sizable axe and tested its weight in his hand with a growing grin.
Faust’s stomach dropped.
Vasil walked back to Earl and chucked the axe with skill and precision at the noble.
Faust cringed at the crack of the man’s skull and the sickening sound of his body hitting the ground. The axe split the noble’s head in half. The body toppled and rolled to a stop in a broken slump.
Panicked cries rose from the nobles, but the people appeared pleased by the execution.
The wolves howled in unison as if Vasil had achieved a great victory.
Bile rose in Faust’s throat. He averted his gaze with mixed feelings. Execution would have come at the end of a swift trial, but this was crude and quick, almost too lenient. He raised his gaze and caught Vasil’s once more.