A Bored Lich

Thomas looked to the dead War Monks, and it was as if a light crystal lit up in his head. 'This is perfect. I can just blend in.'

After Thomas disrobed the War Monks, however, he realized the folly in his logic. Both robes were meant for large, muscular War Monks and, although Thomas might have been taller than average, he was skin and bones by comparison. He had more use for the robes as blankets than as disguises.

'You aren't thinking of going out like that,' Doevm groaned.

'Do you have any better ideas?' Thomas asked.

'Sarcasm will not help.'

'I wasn't being sarcastic. Please tell me you have a better idea so I don't have to go through with this,' Thomas said. He waited for a few moments, yet Doevm remained silent. 'Nothing?'

'I am sorry. I have my limits.'

'Here goes nothing.' Faced with no other choice, Thomas went to work cutting the robe up with his dagger.

Although Thomas trimmed the robe's sleeves and overall length, the cloth sagged like a wrinkled face. He even could pull the hood over his entire head. He would get spotted in an instant, if it were the day. In the dark night however, there was a chance. A slim, dangerous chance. On second thought, he could throw the robe away and make a run for it.

'Is this information really that important?' Thomas asked as he peered out at the crowd once more.

'Yes.'

Thomas let out a long sigh, pulled his hood over his face, then stepped out from behind the carriage. He silently coasted on the edge of the firelight, where the lively banter became nothing but noise to him. He was glad he was dead, or else his heart would have pounded against his chest.

"Excuse me," a voice said.

Thomas tore his gaze away from the crowd and halted, his eyes going wide as he realized that he was an inch bumping into a War Monk. "Sorry." He moved around the man, and a thick hand clamped around his frail wrist.

Thomas glanced back at the man, who stared back, firelight reflecting in his eyes. "It was my fault. I apologize," the man said. "Why not join me for a meal?"

Thomas pulled his wrist back and smiled, although it didn't matter with a hood covering his face. "I'm busy and I already ate." As if waiting for that very moment, his stomach grumbled. He could almost feel the weight of despair pressing down on him.

The man gestured to Thomas's robes then crossed his arms. "Well then, I hope it is important business. I mean you no offense, but you appear unrested."

"Sorry." Thomas said. He turned to leave. "Actually, do you know where I can find the guide?"

The War Monk narrowed his eyes. "Why do you need to find him?"

"Sir Wilhelm's orders."

The man relaxed. "Ah, that's the reason! If I remember correctly, he was in the ruins. He is quite the respectable man to fight alongside us, isn't he?"

There was something off about the man's behavior, but Thomas couldn't quite put his finger on it. The man should have seen through Thomas's disguise, but his facial expression had hardly changed. Also, the man's words deviated from what Thomas had read in the report.

'Say this word for word,' Doevm said.

Thomas nodded: "The guide would be truly respectable if he did this for the sole purpose of serving the goddess."

It seemed to be the right response because the man nodded: "On second thought, I remember that the guide was in that tent over there. You can't miss it. I apologize for nearly leading you astray."

'I knew it,' Doevm said.

'What happened?' Thomas asked. 'Why do I feel relieved?'

'He was testing you,' Doevm said. 'Get away from him.'

"Thank you. I must be on my way," Thomas bowed and started towards the tent, fighting the urge to run.

"Good luck with your task, brother," the man waved him off.

'Do you see why information is useful?' Doevm asked. 'Without that report-'

'You don't need to say it,' Thomas interrupted. He stopped at the tent's entrance. 'I just need to interrogate him, right?'

'Deal with him accordingly.'

The tent in question was the same as every other tent: a green canvas held up by five supports, creating a space slightly larger than a carriage. Thomas stepped inside to find two men, sitting opposite to one another. The man faced away from the entrance was a War Monk in a white robe, whose beard sagged from his wrinkled chin. Sitting opposite to the War Monk was a scraggly, unkempt weasel of a man. Instead of a robe, he had layered his chubby body with worn clothes, none of which bore the symbol of the goddess.

'I found him,' Thomas said. His momentary joy was soured as the War Monk turned to face him.

"Oh, the young inquisitor has arrived at last? I am Brother Earl, it is nice to meet you." Brother Earl barely reacted to the strange attire, Thomas guessed, because his pale, milky eyes had lost their sight, or most of it.

Thomas swallowed his saliva and nodded, wondering if it was too late to leave.

Brother Earl gestured for Thomas to sit besides him. "Come, sit. Let us begin."

The guide had an entirely different reaction as Thomas sat in front of him, wordlessly raising a brow. "Who are you supposed to be?"

Brother Earl raised his hand to silence the man, then placed several sheets of paper onto the table. "Once again Mr. Barlan, we must ask you if you have seen these people."

Thomas looked down at the papers and cursed under his breath.

"Is something wrong, young inquisitor?" Brother Earl asked as he stared right at Thomas.

Thomas found it hard to meet his gaze since there was a picture of his face on the table along with Doevm's, Frey's, Olpi's, and Elero's.

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