Suddenly awoken by some nearby noises, Grey stretched his back and looked around the small basement room of the farm he lived on. He had an Arrangement with the Farmer which allowed him to sleep there in exchange for keeping out unwanted vermin. He got up to his feet and peered through the door frame, into the main room from which the noises seemed to originate. In groups of two or three, men were entering the basement where they were greeted by the Farmer, who then let them into the Closet.
Grey knew there was another passage in there, but he had been unable to enter so far. Men only seemed to go in maybe once a moon and so opportunities were rare. Maddened with curiosity, he decided to try again tonight and so nonchalantly approached the Farmer. As usual, his landlord paid him no attention; this was part of the Arrangement. After a few minutes, a man entered, alone this time. The Farmer spoke with his raspy voice. “Welcome, Servant. You had me worried; any difficulty?”
The newcomer bowed his head to the Farmer. “Some difficulty, Harbinger. As you suspected, the shipment must have been intercepted, for the Slayers are restless. Guards came to inspect several settlers’ records, including yours, but rest assured they found nothing worthy of note. They have also added night patrols; avoiding them on the way here was tricky.”
The Farmer frowned. “Well I should hope they found nothing; this is why we made you Chancellor. Come now, Servant, we have much to discuss tonight as our time is fast approaching.”
He activated the Closet door and Servant entered obediently. Grey, who had been patiently waiting for this, launched himself through the opening, bumped against Servant’s legs and caused them both to fall down the flight of stairs just behind the door. Then things got a bit crazy. Adrenaline and panic filled Grey as he scrambled to his feet. Servant was yelling, but it was nothing compared to the Farmer’s angry roar. Grey wondered for a second if his initiative had compromised the Agreement, but then panic took hold again and he dashed into the room at the base of the stairs. After running around it a few times, he came to the conclusion that it was a sort of cellar with no exit. He jumped on a crate, ran across a row of barrels, looking for a way out. He could hear a commotion coming from beneath the wood panels covering the ground and finally spotted a way out; one of the panels was resting against the wall, and beside it a gaping hole revealed a ladder descending into darkness. It didn't come close to Grey’s vision of an ideal hiding place, but he made up his mind as the Farmer barged in the room, a personification of anger. He jumped down the hole without bothering to use the ladder.
His landing on the hard stone floor was somewhat jarring, but he managed to avoid being hurt. This was slim consolation as the situation hadn’t improved much over being in the cellar; he appeared to be trapped at the end of a passage which was rapidly filling with loud men from the other end. Going back up was out of the question; his only option was forward. His eyes darted this way and that, looking for an opportunity, when someone suddenly lunged forward to grapple him. Grey jumped sideways, crouched, successfully avoiding being caught, and bolted toward the other end of the passage in a mad zig-zag through the aggravated crowd.
The room in which he emerged was large; much larger than the farmhouse above. At the other end of it, dark, gigantic beings stared at him with glowing purple eyes - as if he possibly needed additional reasons to panic. Grey flung himself under the first thing he found which could provide cover: one of the many rows of benches facing the other end of the room. By now, he was so petrified that his body didn’t even react when a cloak slipped from the bench and fell onto him. He stayed very still as he tried to get a grip, hoping that the commotion would settle down.
For what seemed like a long time, the resonating sound of several voices talking at once, combined with the maddening sound of his own pounding heart, was nearly deafening. To Grey’s relief, the crowd eventually seemed to calm down as people took place around the benches and then the room fell silent.
The familiar voice of the Farmer rose from the far end of the room, where the Dark Beings had been standing. “Hmm. So nobody found him then? Oh well, it’s not like he’ll go babble to the slayers. Let us begin then. Servants, be seated.”
The Farmer’s tone then sounded more threatening, somehow larger, as he continued his speech.
“Rejoice, my Servants, for our time is coming! Our Lady’s Faithful, the Sacred Angels of Darkness, have nearly harvested enough life force to help Her bring Her kind back to the skies and restore their power. This is True; the coming of the First Egg draws near, even as I speak! Rejoice, my Servants, for the night on which our Lords shall rise to rule all worlds draws near!”
As one man, the audience feverishly rumbled: “Glory to our Lords!” To Grey, the mantra seemed disconcertingly hostile even though he hadn’t the slightest clue of what was going on. As the evil gathering progressed, he came closer and closer to the conclusion that the Farmer wasn’t a man with whom he wished to maintain an Agreement.
“Indeed, our time is coming, my Servants. This is True, the Fall of the Phoenix is imminent, but I unfortunately do not only bring good tidings. For centuries, we have awaited the dawnless night. For centuries, the scriptures of the First Harbinger have guided us. It is written that the Twelfth Harbinger will lead the Lady’s Servants to the East, where the night becomes day. There, when the Lady bids him, the Twelfth Harbinger will open the way and welcome Her and Her Children. This, he will do with the aid of twelve trusted Servants, whom he will make Angels of Darkness. It is written that the Lords, in their infinite Wisdom, will reward the Twelve Servants by appointing them as their Sacred Guardians, enhancing each one to become as powerful as twelve Angels. Forever ruling the Eastern sky, the Sacred Guardians will ensure that the Phoenix never rises again and that the night remains night.”
The Farmer paused for a moment, and the resulting silence felt heavy as the men sitting on the benches waited for him to continue.
“I am the Twelfth Harbinger, I have lead you to the East and amongst you are the twelve trusted Servants to be made Angels of Darkness! Amongst you are the twelve destined to become the Lords’ Sacred Guardians, and yet we have only eleven vials of Sacred Blood. The slayers decided to meddle with fate and stole from us the twelfth vial before it even reached us. These heathens, not satisfied with pointlessly slaughtering the Angels of Darkness, are jeopardizing our destiny and our Lords’ Reign. Tonight, we need True Servants of the Lords, willing to risk themselves for Their glory and fearlessly reclaim the Sacred Blood. Who will go?”
The question was soon followed by a clamor of voices as the men discussed the high risk-high reward mission. Taking advantage of the agitation, Grey extracted himself from the cloak and attempted to sneak toward the back of the room. He had nearly made it when a powerful hand grabbed him by the neck. “Harbinger, I have found our visitor!”
This caused several of the men to laugh, then his captor added “Should I let him out? It’s not like he’ll tell on us.”
The man was right, Grey would not talk; stray cats typically didn’t. Unfortunately for him, the Farmer was in a very bad mood. “Sacrifice him to our Lady, we could use a bit of good luck tonight.”
He tried to wriggle out of the man’s grasp as he was carried to the front of the room then held above a large square hole in the ground. Somewhere behind him, the Farmer thundered “Glory to our Lady!” Grey felt a sharp pain as the man opened him with a blade, as he would open a mouse with a claw. His vision blurred out and he cursed the Closet as he faded away.
