Published at 9th of September 2025 12:39 pm

Book 5: Chapter 30 Disposal Team [Part 2]

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Malik awoke to see me looming over him. Before he could draw breath to scream, I clamped an armored gauntlet over his mouth. His eyes bulged with shock and fear. He kicked and punched at my plated arms, blows that rattled uselessly against metal. I dragged him over to Lelinae, who stared at him, hatred swirling in her eyes.

Though iron shackles still pinned her, she reached out, fingers closing around his throat with surprising strength. Strangulation is a slow, very intimate process. I watched her find a disturbing sort of peace in it as she stared into the eyes of the man who had tormented her. Malik’s struggles weakened. His face darkened. Eventually, a soft rattle escaped his throat—then he was still.

A death notification flickered across my vision, a strange echo of triumph. Lelinae, trembling and spent, looked up at me with a silent plea.

“Rest now, child,” I said gently, stroking her red hair. “Shh… It will be over soon.”

I cast Greater Drain, siphoning away what remained of her Stamina. A heady rush of her life force filled me, nearly intoxicating. But I knew I must not take too much; I released the spell quickly.

She swayed, eyelids fluttering, then slipped away again.

You have gained 1 Charisma.

I almost laughed at this notification. For a “dump” attribute, it had certainly been growing in leaps and bounds quickly of late

An instant later, a mild tremor rippled through the earth below. Tiny fissures opened in the dirt as claws emerged from the gloom—long, whiskered snouts sniffed the air. A ratman pulled itself free of the ground, then another, and another, until a pack had gathered in eerie silence.

Their leader, a black-furred beast with a jagged scar over one eye, crept closer. “Wh-what is your will, Father?” he hissed, voice laced with reverence.

I pointed to Malik’s cooling corpse. “Take this one now.”

His nose twitched, and he nodded.

They worshipped me fanatically, these vile creatures. That alone spared them my blade. More importantly, they obeyed without question, as though it were holy writ.

I jerked my chin toward Lelinae’s slumped figure. “Take her below in two turns of the glass. You know how long that is?”I paused to ensure he understood.

The bipedal rats nodded to me. “Later! Later!” they squeaked. “Fresh food.”

“No! She is not food. She is to live. Learn from her—her ways, her secrets. She will bend to our cause more easily than you think. Learn of the ways of magic. If she proves difficult, remind her of me. She is my gift to you.”

I looked at each of them in turn, staring into their beady eyes.

The black ratman cleaned his whiskers with a long claw. “We’re of the Covenant-Covenant. We hear and obey, Father! By your will! By the Change!” he squeaked. The rest echoed his words in chittering worship.

“Quietly, now,” I commanded. “Leave no trace of your coming. Cover the entrance behind you and hide in your tunnels. Seal them when you are done—but do not collapse them. The walls must not be weakened.”

With frantic efficiency, the ratmen descended into the hole, dragging Malik’s corpse. The earth closed around them, leaving behind only a faint scarring on the floor. I nudged a stool over the spot. It would have to do.

It was as if they had never been, but soon they would return.

***

Leaving the dungeon behind, I found some guards slumped against the walls, their heads nodding with fatigue or simple boredom. They barely registered my approach. Anger flared in me—had our situation not grown dire enough for them to keep watch?

“What is the punishment for dereliction of duty?” I barked, startling them upright. “The city is at war, you louts!”

They jolted to attention, faces pale. “F-First Tamkar!” one of them stammered, clutching his spear so tightly his knuckles turned white.

I let the echo of my voice die in the corridor before continuing in a colder tone. “Consider yourselves fortunate. I am feeling merciful this day.” I jabbed a finger at one of them. “You—go down and check on the captive. Make sure she’s still breathing. Give her water if she requires it.”

He fled down the steps without a word, armor clanking against stone. I turned a hard stare on the other guard. “And where is Malik?”

The guard swallowed hard. “We have not seen him...”

My lip curled with contempt. “You’ve paid so little attention that half the city could have marched past you, and you’d never notice. I ought to have you whipped. Instead, you will find him yourself and tell him to report to the Minister of War. Understood?”

The men snapped into a clumsy salute. “It shall be done,” they promised in unison, two of their number scampering away. Poor fools, I thought, as I stepped out of the tower’s gloom into the waning daylight.

They would all be most likely executed before the day was through.

The evening sky lay awash in a bruised red hue, as though the sunset itself bore witness to the bloodshed on the horizon. A profound weariness gripped me—not one of mere Stamina, but something bone-deep, the kind that no potion or spell could cure. Still, I had a task to complete before I could seek rest. I had to be seen by as many eyes as possible, and as far away as possible from the tower where the elf was kept.

I summoned a young soldier from his post on the wall. His eyes shone with eagerness, and I recalled he had served with me before in the Contest of Knives. “You will guide me to the Minister of War,” I said. Though my voice lacked its earlier firmness, he obeyed instantly, leading me through the winding passages and narrow stairs that coiled through Al-Lazar’s defenses.

At last, we arrived at an eastern watchtower. When the guard stationed there first demanded our business, but as we came closer, the sight of me served as clearance enough. The soldier at my side asked quietly after the Minister’s whereabouts, and we were directed up the final set of stairs to a broad chamber near the top.

There, I found Farzan, Minister of War, bent over a table strewn with maps detailing the coast and ramparts surrounding Al-Lazar. Colored markers indicated the positions of the elven fortress ships anchored at sea. A sea that was even now beginning to recede. He looked up, exhaustion lining his face.

“Ah, Gilgamesh,” he greeted, his voice tinged with relief. He poured himself a glass of crimson wine. “Can I offer you a drink?”

I forced a smile, though I ached with fatigue. “No, thank you, Farzan.” I inclined my head in courtesy. “I’ve come to learn how we plan to counter the Elven aerial threat.”

He sighed, swirling the wine in his cup. “We have precious few options. Their eagles dominate the skies. Our engines on the walls can strike at them, but only from fixed positions. If we value the lives of our people, we must concede open ground and brace ourselves for a siege. It means the treasure of the Old City’s Trials falls to their hands. The wealth of nations sits on those wet sands, beyond our reach.”

I considered his words, a flash of impatience stirring. “If you only value human life. Are there still any Beastkin under the city’s control? Press gang them into service and let them loose on the elves. ”

Farzan shook his head. “Even Beastkin would suffer terribly under such an aerial assault. You nearly died to those winged terrors yourself, did you not?”

“I believe that was the point of my suggestion,” I smirked, to which he simply raised his glass and took a sip.

He paused, setting aside his cup. “But enough of this grim talk about strategies. I want to hear of their motives. Tell me—what have you and Malik discovered?”

I feigned surprise. “Has Malik not reported to you already?”

A frown tugged at the corners of Farzan’s mouth. “No, he has not.”

“Strange,” I murmured. “But no matter. I can tell you what I recall. You may question the prisoner yourself later, assuming the guards uphold their duty.”

Farzan snorted in distaste. “Questioning is a vile business.”

“Vile, yet necessary,” I replied, unable to keep an edge from my voice. “Al-Lazar is on the brink. Understanding our enemy’s motivations is vital if we hope to break them—or even bargain with them. Strategy demands good information. With what we know now, it would serve us best to stay behind these walls.”

He winced as though I had reminded him of a wound. “I know, Gilgamesh. But it does not sit well with me, all the same.”

I lowered my voice. “You are the Minister of War, Farzan. You’ll face uglier duties than this before the end. I fear the road ahead will be long and drenched in blood, but know I will be here with you. And, I have some ideas of my own if you will lend me your ear.”

His gaze flicked to the maps. I saw the weight of countless souls pressing on him, a burden that would only grow heavier with time.

“Very well,” Farzan said at last, voice quiet. “Tell me what you have learned…”

And so I began, weaving a careful tale of half-truths and guarded secrets.

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