"Woah, his armor is amazing… you see that shit?"
"A divine aura… practically shining armor… It looks plenty durable too. Just how much did it cost?"
"Gotta be a rich noble, no? Hope he ain't corrupt or somebody's gonna hunt him down…"
The mercenaries murmured amongst themselves, some chuckling at the rich noble jokes.
Valen looked upon the Mark Board: a large wall covered in metal-plated bounty slips, where open jobs can be claimed. He was naturally uninterested with the jobs available, as he then went to the Keepers' counter. The Ledger Keepers were the administrators and scribes who handled contracts, disputes, and payments.
"How can I help you?" One of the female keepers spoke.
"I would like to request a job worthy of our skills. My companion here is a third-ranked mage."
"...Third-ranked?!"
"He's gotta be bluffing, there's no way."
"Aren't they just F-Ranked mercenaries?"
"...You're telling me that woman can already match a C-Rank Mercenary?!"
"...So it seems the ranking system for mages is similar to the mercenary ranking system. Sixth being the lowest, fifth, fourth, third, second and first being the highest."
"I am a warrior that is equal in rank to her."
"Mmm, I can give you one of the hardest jobs within the F-Rank area."
"...That will have to do."
"Or… you can join that group over there. I believe they're about to head on one of the jobs you are inquiring about." She pointed, as the mercenary leader waved.
"Hm?"
"I believe they're known as the Marks of Purity."
"...Ah, great. The group that the Black Blades found… they're based on the Apostle of Purity, but I believe they have no actual relation with the Dominion."
The Marks of Purity are a unique and controversial mercenary group operating under the Crimson Ledger. Known for their disciplined formations and obsession with cleansing corruption, they take their name from the Apostle of Purity, one of the Seven Divine Apostles worshipped in the Dominion of Solmira. They're popular for urban purges, slum patrols, and bandit-hunting contracts.
Valen and Valea then walked over, as they then began introducing themselves.
"I am Arthur. This is Valea."
"I am Deyric Halvane. I'm known as the Blade of Faith and the leader of the Marks of Purity." He wore a polished half-plate engraved with sunburst motifs. He had a broad longsword and a dagger etched with Solmiran runes. He seemed to be a former knight with how he appeared.
Deyric then introduced the rest of them.
"Fenna. The Vigil in Shadow, eyes and ears." Wiry build, hooded cloak of pale gray leaves, ash-colored facial tattoos. Twin recurved knives and a whitewood longbow strung with sinew.
"Hey." Fenna waved a gesture toward Valen, who did not give her the attention.
"Valien. The Flamebearer, our healer." Robed in tattered white, bald with burn scars across his neck.
"Nice to meet you two." Valien smiled innocently.
"Lastly, our tank, Gorran. The Shield of Resolve." Towering man clad in burnished black-and-ivory armor, face obscured by a blank, expressionless visor. Tower shield engraved with a radiant sigil; a blunted hammer designed for subduing.
"Nice to meet you." Gorran nodded.
"...They all look relatively young, but definitely battle-hardened. They also don't seem fanatical in any liking, so they're not Solmiran either. They are all D-Rank too…"
"...You gotta stop calling me the Flamebearer…" Valien shook his head.
"Why not? It suits you."
"The kid's a talent. Don't listen to him."
"Oh?"
"When he casts his healing magic, divine flames appear that heal you almost instantly and they stay on you for a short while. It took him only one year to learn healing magic, when it usually takes about four."
"That is amazing for someone your age."
"...I'm lucky for sure… it allowed me to take on my dream."
"He's pretty famous in the city for being the Flamebearer."
"But there's definitely someone else more famous and talented…"
"You mean the Mireleaf?"
"Hm? Who is this Mireleaf?"
"Oh, you don't know him? You must not be around here." Deyric said, sitting down at the table.
"Mireleaf is a nickname us mercenaries at Crimson Ledger call him, but his name is Thennel. He is the most famous apothecary in the Kingdom. He is a talented healer and specializes in healing salves, combat stimulants, and volatile compounds."
"He made a famous magic-based firebomb, an invisibility tincture and a fast-acting knockout incense. No one can replicate them apparently, he can also analyze and use all magic items."
"...I see."
"...He sounds like quite the kid. Could be dangerous if raised right."
"About our current job though, our objective is to kill off some bandits that have been operating near Virestone Keep. They've been hitting a lot of merchant caravans recently."
"A bandit hunting expedition, huh…"
"Pretty much."
"We believe it's necessary." Gorran spoke up.
"Don't forget it gets us money to survive." Fenna retorted. Gorran then stared at her.
"...And yes, it does lessen the danger for the citizens as well. A win for all." She rolled her eyes.
"...Ignore them." Deyric rubbed his head.
"We're hunting around a forest north of the capital city. How about it? Interested?"
"I have no problems, please take care of us."
"I'm more interested in his face." Fenna murmured.
"Hey, that's a bit much." Valien whispered to her.
"I can hear you."
Valien's eyes widened. "My apologies for my companion."
"...I am a foreigner, so that is why I hide my face."
"Sorry about her, she's… a bit… you know." Deyric said, eying her.
"But… we are fellow mercenaries so out of respect, I will reveal myself."
Valen then took off his helmet, revealing his face. He was not abnormally pale due to casting illusionary magic. They saw he had blonde hair, slightly tousled but clean and well-kept. Sharp, intense light blue eyes. Angular with strong cheekbones, a defined jawline, and a serious, determined expression.
"...You definitely don't look like a foreigner… you look like a dignified, warrior noble…" Deyric was speechless, so were the others.
"Are you a foreign noble?" Gorran asked.
"...Damn, he's hot." Fenna murmured again.
"Will you quit it?" Valien responded, briefly hitting the backside of her head.
"Can I ask what type of relationship you both have?" Fenna excitedly asked.
"She is my compatriot." Valen responded as he then put his helmet back on.
"...Please go out with me…" Fenna fell in love at that instant. Deyric eyed her again.
"Know your place." Valea murmured with hostile intent. Valen then hit her leg with his hand, shaking his head.
"Once again, I'm sorry for her." Deyric quickly bowed.
"It is fine."
"If you are ready, let's depart now." Deyric said, as he got up with his equipment.
"I agree." Valen and Valea also stood up.
"Arthur?" A different female keeper approached him.
"Yes?"
"...You've been requested for a specific job, sir."
"Who requested my services?"
"The Mireleaf."
"What?!" The group was shocked.
Thennel then approached them, as the mercenaries moved out the way out of respect.
Valea stared at him with serious intensity, concealing her hostility until she ascertained his objective.
"Nice to meet you, Sir Arthur. I'm the Mireleaf, the one that requested you for the job."
"...I am sorry, but I've already promised a job with the Marks of Purity. Though, I am honored that you specifically chose me."
"I don't think you should refuse the job, Arthur." Deyric spoke up.
"I agree, but it is respectful to finish the job I accepted first, is it not?"
Deyric didn't speak, as he knew he was right, but still believed he should take it.
"...I'll make the decision once I hear of his request. Does that satisfy you?"
Deyric nodded.
The group then sat back down at a table, hearing of the request by Thennel.
"I'm Thennel of the Crimson Ledger. I'm sure you've probably heard of me, so I don't need to really introduce myself."
"I plan to go to the Myrewood and vacate myself at Virelow Hollow."
"...What a coincidence that he's going to Virelow…"
"I would like to request that you guard me and help collect those herbs during the trip."
"Hm… Deyric."
"Yes?"
"I think I'll ask the Marks of Purity to accompany me on this job."
"For a bodyguard request, Fenna would be beneficial to have. She is a ranger. I know the Marks of Purity do not typically take on bodyguard work, but this party composition would suit the job."
"Yeah, that much is true." Deyric nodded.
"...I easily have the skills of the entire group combined, however… it would be better if I hid that fact for now…"
"I don't mind at all, especially if it's you asking." Fenna winked.
"We'd definitely be grateful."
"Would this be a problem, Thennel?"
"Not at all, the more the merrier."
"Good, I have a more pressing concern."
"What is it?"
"Why did you specifically request me? And how do you know about me?... I am a foreigner and right now I do not have the status to protect me if I encounter danger."
"...If it is what I think it is… the timing is too close… It could be Kaela…"
"I just came to this town yesterday, so it is too quick for me to be known yet. I have no connections here, especially not to one such as yourself."
"...A certain… customer told me that you easily defeated D-Rank Mercenaries in a blink of an eye."
"...What an exaggeration. I only defeated one of them. And the way he said customer, it was definitely Kaela that opened her mouth… and considering he's an apothecary, it seems she came to him about the potion I gave her… is it not commonplace here?..."
"I usually request my usual mercenaries, but I thought I'd try someone new."
"...Now I know his angle, he wishes to know how I got my hands on the potion…"
"Do any of you have any more questions?"
"I don't believe so."
"Then we shall depart now, if you do not mind, Deyric."
"Of course."
Thennel nodded, as he led the way outside of the guild's headquarters.
***
Two of the Seerblades from the Eidryn Empire's Seven Legions were keeping surveillance of a hidden outpost belonging to Gravemarket, beneath Virestone Keep's Old Northern Cemetery, the cemetery filled with moss-choked headstones and forgotten crypts.
The Seerblades, formally known as the Legion of Vision, were masters of intelligence, reconnaissance and arcane warfare. They wore dark grey robes and armor intertwined with star patterns; masks shaped like an eye. They valued foresight, strategy and innovation, similar to the Dukedom of Vision's Shroud upon which they were based. They were silent, using hand movements to communicate, as they monitored and memorized the hidden outpost.
The secret outpost of the Gravemarket was seen as secluded and illicit, known in whispers as the Hollow Narthex. It is not just a den of criminal dealings, but primarily a place of ritual silence and whispered power, operated by one of the most enigmatic Gravemarket factions: the Hollow Choir.
The Hollow Choir is one of the most secretive and terrifying factions within the Gravemarket. More than a guild of assassins or smugglers, they are a death-cultic sect, operating under the belief that true power lies not in coin or control—but in silence, memory, and death unspoken.
The entrance of Hollow Narthex is hidden through a collapsed mausoleum, whose door opens only with a specific series of knocks and incense burned in a censer hidden within a crumbling statue. The outpost spreads beneath the cemetery in chiseled catacomb chambers, lined with ossuaries, stone slabs, and alcoves filled with stolen goods, relics, and preserved corpses. The air is thick with a mix of herbs, embalming agents, and mold—a scent both sacred and foul.
It was known by Gravemarket's lower-ranked personnel as a silent trade hall, dead-letter drop site, and clandestine meeting place for Gravemarket agents and necro-smugglers. However, its true purpose was for ritual preservation, trafficking of magically charged cadavers and performing quiet rites for Gravemarket contracts that must never be spoken of. It was also equipped with a small apothecary den, forbidden texts scriptorium, and multiple secret exits through city sewers and under-chapel tunnels.
A few brave (or doomed) informants claim that certain nobles and military officers visit the Hollow Narthex for bargains involving forbidden resurrection or soul-cleaving pacts.
The Hollow Narthex was guarded by the Pale Singers, the assassins and enforcers of the Choir. Dressed in tight-fitting deathweave garb, colored matte gray and shadow-black for stealth, interwoven with strips of bleached silk. Skin is often painted or powdered white, with dark eyeshadow and nail-blackened fingers to symbolize ritual purity through death.
They were barefoot and wore bone charms or wax-sealed rings that hang silently at their waist. Their faces are partially veiled — the lower half covered by thin funerary cloth, while the upper face is painted with stylized deathmarks. Each Pale Singer carries curved ritual blades, bone needles, or strangulation tools. Some had implanted iron silence nails under their skin — symbols of total devotion.
"We greet the Voice of Execution." The Pale Singers kneeled before a feminine figure. The Seerblades paid attention to her as she approached the entrance of Hollow Narthex.
She had a form-fitting black and gray assassin's garb layered with thin funeral veils, embroidered with Hollow Choir symbology. Despite being an assassin, she could not feel the presence of the Seerblades.
One of the two then casted a spell of observation upon the assassin, to which she could not notice. The brief rune appeared on her skin then vanished instantly. It was a temporary spell to prevent her from realizing that she was observed.
She then walked into Hollow Narthex, disappearing into the vast darkness.
*
"Father Wyrnn." She kneeled.
Father Wrynn was a tall, gaunt man, with skin pale as moonlit ash and eyes veiled by thin black cloth. He was dressed in ceremonial robes of layered bone-white linen and black silk embroidered with funerary script.
"Welcome, Veyra. Do you have the item I requested?"
Veyra had short, choppy blonde hair — always damp or tousled like she just stepped from a crypt. Pale, unblemished skin and delicate, almost doll-like features—a disturbing contrast to her violent nature. Her eyes are light gray, glassy and oddly wide.
"Of course, Your Holiness." She then revealed a crown, adorned with countless black jewels with crimson threads, possibly symbolizing blood.
"Ah, you found it. A crown that enhances your total magic capacity in exchange for your mind vanishing into its abyss. The Crown of Puppets."
"My Echo Tongue should bypass the rune and allow me to control its user." It was a relic that allowed him to speak with the dead or invoke words onto living flesh.
"...I believe there was a famed apothecary in town that can use any magic item, no?"
"Find him and bring him to me."
"...By any means necessary?" She devilishly smiled.
"I know your intent, Veyra. You may do as you please."
"...For the Hollow Choir. And for the monsters we wish to befall this world again…"