think it goes without saying we’ve found our artist.” Thunderclese replied, pointing at the portrait of the sunken-eyed Vincent. “Vincent LeFay? Vee-El-Eff? And look at the way he tilts his head off to the side…chances are if he portrayed himself in such a manner, what we’re seeing is subtle compared to what a true introvert he probably is. Those artist-types are easy to spot.”
“Hmm…you may be on to something. That would explain the trophy room then…see the way Bartholomew stands with a leg up? It’s a very popular pose among the Journeymen Guild.”
“The huntsmen?”
Vlishgnath nodded.
“So why the stage?” asked Thunderclese.
“Well…” Vlishgnath trailed off again, looking over the portraits for another moment before quickly pointing to the one of Lillith. “There. She’s seated at a harpsichord. I imagine if we explored back stage a bit we’d find one that looks a lot like the one in her portrait.”
“Alright, so we have the hunter, the …are those mage robes? Those are the Darlisheld University colors.”
“I think you’re right. He’s holding a degree of some sort.”
“Hunter, mage, musician, artist…writer?” Thunderclese queried.
“The last two are both at desks,” said Vlishgnath, “but there’s definitely a big difference between the two. Isabelle’s wearing a crown of flowers.”
“Meaning…she spent her time in the gardens?”
Vlishgnath considered that. “Poet, perhaps?”
Both men nodded slowly, their minds beginning to paint a mental image of exactly what sort of family they were dealing with.
It was Thunderclese who spoke next. “So how does a multi-talented family with more money than they can spend end up…” he paused, taking a moment to look around the musty, uninviting room in which they stood, “…like this?”
Vlishgnath remained silent for several seconds, then shook his head. “That’s a good question. They each seem to have had their vices, so I wonder what Baron LeFay did in his spare time. I have a sneaking suspicion as to what the rest of this floor is for, but let’s make certain.”
The next room contained rows upon rows of bookshelves, the contents of which all lay spilled into the aisles. Thunderclese and Vlishgnath stepped in and cautiously approached the mess, leaving Maximus on guard duty again.
Vlishgnath knelt down, picking up one of the books. The dust jacket was unadorned and plain looking, appearing to have been bound by hand. Opening the cover, he peered inside, then handed it up to Thunderclese. “Look.”
On the front page, scrawled in big bold letters, it read, “A Collection of Poetry, by Isabelle LeFay.”
Thunderclese pondered its meaning for a moment, then looked around collectively at all the books on the floor. “Do you think they’re all…?”
“Possibly. Look, here’s one by Lucien LeFay. They displayed their work in this room.”
“So were you right?” said Thunderclese.
“So far, yes.”
The next room was a long, rectangular one. The floor was tiled, and a mass of expensive furniture had been piled up in the center of the room for no apparent reason. Looking to have been a ballroom, there was red velvet curtains drawn closed along one of the walls. Thunderclese pulled them open a bit to reveal a wide set of ornamental doors that led out onto a back balcony overlooking the garden they had seen behind the house.
Vlishgnath circled the pile of furniture a few times, trying to peer inside at the center of the clutter, but was unable to find a reason as to why the furniture had been stacked.
“Insanity’s a good enough reason, right?” was Thunderclese’s suggestion, causing Vlishgnath to shake his head and Maximus to give him a shove as he passed by.
The next room they came upon housed a number of certificates and degrees, many of which proclaimed some sort of honorary status or incredible achievement. All of them were made out to one person: Alexander LeFay. The walls were practically plastered with them, and glass cases in the center of the room housed the more exemplary ones.
“This guy’s been all over the world…” Thunderclese said in awe.
“From what I can tell, he’s breezed through courses of study in every major university on the western continent, and some up in Darlisheld,” Vlishgnath replied, running his gauntleted fingers across the glass top of one of the cases.
Making their way around the room, they passed by an open door that led into a smoking lounge before coming upon a large set of closed wooden doors at the back. As they drew near, however, a constant buzzing drone grew louder and louder, causing Thunderclese and Vlishgnath to give each other a sideways glance.
Vlishgnath grabbed hold of one of the handles only to find out the doors had been locked. “Maximus, do you mind?”
The big man stepped forward and, without breaking stride, continued on with a powerful front kick, almost bringing the doors off their hinges. Inside, a magnificent table set for a grand feast was swarming with a seemingly endless number of large metallic-looking flies, the deafening drone of so many insects washing over them now that the door was open. The smell of rancid food was thick in the stagnant air. Then, just as the overpowering scent hit them fully, the gathering of flies on the table began to coalesce into the form of a large humanoid in such detail that it even took on facial features.
Slowly, an arm made of frantic flies—wildly encircling each other within the confines of the limb’s structure—rose up, a finger pointing at the men as the creature’s mouth opened to unleash a massive swarm of ravenous biting flies upon them.
As the flies descended, the creature spoke in a bone-chilling whisper. “Be gone from this place, children of Colopatrion…”
Episode 7
Flies spewed forth from the creature’s mouth, surrounding the three men and working into the crevices of their armor to bite at their flesh. Vlishgnath and Thunderclese began to flail about wildly, swatting at places on their armor where they were being bitten.
Maximus snarled, ignoring the biting insects, while reaching back to retrieve Judgment from its holster. The demon hissed at him in response, the flies grouping together tightly to sharpen its features. Advancing at a purposeful pace, Maximus brought Judgment back behind him, gripping the handle upside down in both hands. Closing in, he brought the massive greatsword forward in a powerful swing, then, redirecting the sword’s momentum, he brought it up above his head in a 360 degree spin, before directing it downward towards the demon’s head in a bisecting cleave. Both times the edge of the blade met almost no resistance, the clustered insects parting to allow the blade to pass through harmlessly.
The demon drew back its right arm, the flies coalescing into a fist before slamming into Maximus with a surprising amount of force. Maximus staggered, forced to take a step back to keep his balance, taking only a moment to rotate his grip on Judgment by 90 degrees before drawing back and swinging again. This time, the flat, wide side of the blade struck the creature, knocking a swath of flies out of the air and disrupting the pack, causing them to scatter about wildly for several seconds before quickly regathering and reforming into a humanoid shape.
Maximus chuckled and took a moment to adjust his grip on the handle of Judgment. Tensing and relaxing the muscles in his chest and arms, he drew in a deep breath, and quite suddenly let out a bestial howl, leaning forward and putting all of his breath into it. Vlishgnath and Thunderclese paused in their wild flailing to take notice, even the demon tilting its head slightly as it looked upon the giant warrior with uncertainty. Then, with surprising speed, Maximus lunged forward at the creature, the flat side of Judgment swinging out wide in front of him as he advanced.