He had expected more of a noble. The manor's defenses were sloppy. There was a notable lack of servants and handmaids, and the guards were pitiful. Even in his current state Drogov was able to breeze past them unnoticed and entered through an open window.
The interior was a shadow of high society. There was missing furniture, the phantom of paintings once hung as well as sections of carpet that were missing. Drogov took note as he made his way through, scanning for movement and listening for sound.
The house was dark. A labyrinth of rooms and corridors that had been abandoned. Doors creaked at the slightest wind, and the hardwood floors groaned under his weight. He was a friend of shadows, but this place reminded him of somewhere unpleasant.
He had made a left into a corridor when he finally encountered his first sign of life. At the end of the corridor was a door, closed, with a warm light shining through its gaps. There was also a faint sound of sobbing.
Drogov gripped tightly onto his sword. The only thing he had managed to save besides his overcoat. His eyes were steel. The only thing that existed in his world now was this door, and as he reached, he tried the knob.
There was no resistance and he eased it up as he pushed. The door swung open.
The first thing he saw was a bed on the far side of the room. Massive with a pillar of wood piercing the sky at each corner. There were ornately designed night stands on either side, and a huge painting above the equally gigantic headboard. It was off a man and woman.
The man seemed to be staring straight at him. His was pale with long grey hair, styled in a ponytail and wore a bright smile. He wore the clothes of nobility. The woman, on the other hand, was looking off to the side. A slight frown on her lips.
Before he could study more, a sob caught his attention, and he turned to his left. There sat a woman with her back turned. Her shoulders heaved as she sobbed.
She was on a chair by her dresser. There was a mirror on top, but she had her head down in her hands which stopped her from seeing him.
He approached, and as he drew near, she seemed to sense something. Her head shot up, and her eyes widened as he saw his reflection, but by then it was too late.
He dashed forward and in one motion placed a hand over her mouth while angling his sword at her throat.
"I don't want to hurt you," He started, "but if you scream, I will have to. Understand?"
She nodded.
"Do you promise me that you won't scream?"
Again, she nodded.
Drogov exhaled and relaxed slightly as he let her go, but suddenly, every hair stood on end as he saw a flash of steel.
He dashed backwards, gaining just enough distance to evade the blow.
"I will not let you take me to the Duke." The woman growled, a dagger in hand.
She lunged at him again, but this time, Drogov was ready. He ducked, and his hand shot up simultaneously, clamping down on her wrist as he used her momentum to floor her.
She gasped as the air left her lungs and Drogov used the opportunity to pry the knife out of her hand.
"I'm not here to take you to the Duke." He crouched over her. Her eyes were wide, and panicked. "Take your time." He guided. "Breathe."
She listened, and soon after, had caught her breath. Taking a good look at her, he realized that she was the woman in the painting. She was beautiful. She had an oval face with full lips and sharp eyebrows. Her skin was a tanned olive, her eyes soft and brown while her hair was curly and as dark as a raven's feathers.
"Who are you then?" She questioned.
"That, I cannot tell you." Drogov stood up, then offered her a hand. "But I am here to make a deal."
She hesitated. "What deal?"
"The Duke has this place under watch." He started. "I don't know what you did, but it's evident he plans to do something to you. I can help you escape."
"How?"
"There is a mission I must complete. Once it is done, a caravan will carry me out of town." He explained. "If you allow me to stay here, at least until nightfall, I'll carry you with me."
The woman's eyes lit up but she still took a moment to contemplate, looking away, then back.
"Deal." She said as she took his hand.
"It seems you were expecting one of his?" Drogov inquired as he helped her to her feet.
"Yes." She nodded, patting herself off. "My husband fell ill, and the Duke has had his eye on me ever since."
Drogov remembered something. The two guards that had been on patrol last night. Their conversation, and their sickening intentions.
"I'm sorry to hear about your husband." He offered.
"Don't be. My husband was a piece of shit." She shook her head. "He died last week, but them not knowing that is the only thing keeping me safe."
"I see." Drogov mused. "Is that also why the house is in disarray?"
"Yes." She answered. "My husband had many… servants. When he died, many of them fled in secret, a with whatever wasn't nailed down. They hoped they could avoid the same fate as me when the guards inevitably come."
"Why didn't you leave with them." Drogov asked.
"Because it wouldn't make a difference. There aren't many out there who look like me." She explained as she ran her fingers over the skin of her arm. "If they see me outside, I'm done for. I could run, but far? And where could I hide without coming out for food, or water."
"I understand."
"If what you say is true, you can stay for as long as you like. Just get me out of here."
"It is a promise then." Drogov nodded. "I plan to leave at night. I just need to prepare till then."
"And heal." She said as she pointed to his shoulder.
Drogov looked at it and winced, as if seeing it reminded him of the pain.
"There should be a few medical supplies left somewhere." She started. "Just wait here and I'll patch you up."
"Thank you, madam." Drogov sat down on the bed.
"You can call me Carmella." She replied as she made for the door.
"Then thank you… Carmella."
It didn't take long for her to patch him. They didn't have much to work with, just some gauze and half a bottle of alcohol. It worked, just enough for him to have a decent amount of mobility in his arm.
Once he was healed, he took a quick inventory. Apart from his sword, he had the three daggers he had stuffed in his surcoat earlier, and a few more left in his overcoat from the night before adding up to eleven in total. There were also two vials of green liquid, one had been lost during the fall.
The most important piece was the green gem he had in his coat. Without it, he couldn't locate the crystal.
It should be enough. He thought, glancing out the window. The sun steadily dipped towards the horizon and he felt his connection to the void strengthen as it did.
He made his way to Carmella's room, then knocked.
He waited a second, then it opened. "Do you have any blank parchment?"
"Um, yeah. Give me a moment." She ducked back into the room, and the sound of her rifling through her belongings rung out for a few seconds before she returned to the door with a piece of blank paper. He took it with a slight bow, then returned to his room.
'I escaped.' He wrote. 'I'm finishing everything tonight. Send the map, and prepare the transport for dawn. Leave a space for one more person.'
He folded the letter, then gestured at a shadow at the wall with two fingers.
"Vishum." A bird emerged, made entirely of shadow. It cocked its head back, then grabbed the letter and flew out the window as the sun dipped below the horizon.
It wasn't long before he got a response. The bird return with the schematics for the Servants' Quarters, a red gem and a letter.
'I expected nothing less.' Drogov read the letter. 'For now, this is our last attempt. If you fail, we must retreat, regardless of what happens. Good Luck.'
He burned the letter after reading and switched his attention to the red gem the bird had carried. It glowed with a quite intensity. It was different than the one in the Dragon Key. The light within flickered and thrashed against the inside of the crystal. Conrad had truly given him something dangerous.
Drogov stuffed it into his overcoat. It was time.
Before he left, he visited Carmella once more, instructing her to meet him at the city marketplace by twilight. Everything was set.
He slipped outside through a window and climb up onto the roof, staring in the direction of the Duke's castle. He didn't immediately move, instead, he turned to his left, peering into the manor across from Carmella's. The Duke's men were still stationed there. He could see two of them leaned up a gainst the outer wall, watching her gate.
He crouched down, the moon angled behind him as he touched his own shadow. "Seki." He muttered, and soon enough, he was swallowed by the void.