Journal of Captain Fhaud - Page 3
On the following day, Priest Tuha had his entourage move in a large stone chest adorned with a gryphon. It did not appear to have any hinges or lid. Whatever was inside, it was heavy. It took a team of twenty mighty men working tirelessly all day to move it. By the end, their backs glistened with sweat and blood from their toils.
Once the casket was in place, the priest instructed them to go rest on the bridge. As they made their way down, Tuha motioned with his scepter and several of the Blades of Ateph descended upon them. They moved swiftly and mercilessly. Within moments, all the workers were bleeding out on the bridge stone, their throats slit before they even realized what had transpired.
Tuha ordered their bodies to be weighed down with rocks and dumped into the waters churning below. The harshness and brutality were so sudden, I briefly watched in stunned silence, but then it occurred to me...the Blades did not follow my orders. They followed his.
The priest gathered what remained of his caravan, a mere handful of soldiers. I suspect they too were Blades of Ateph. I followed them back to the surface and inquired as to where the caravan was heading next. To that, he said "Someplace deep that light has forsaken." He then gave me a look that made my blood run cold; a look that told me I should not ask such questions unless I wanted to join the rest of his caravan in the black waters below.
Each night as I stand watch atop the fortress ramparts, I am reminded of the carnage that took place beneath and the chilling realization that I am honor-bound to die in this place sets in. I find no comfort in the other denizens of the fort. To speak out about its secrets would sooner see me flayed by their vicious blades. In that, I serve alone.