Alone with the wind and the silent shadows, Malifaux at night was a place to let one’s imagination run riot. This was, mused Leviticus as he limped through the deserted streets, not a good idea. In Malifaux it was not unknown for men’s imaginations to come to life and eat them. Still, he was not such easy pickings as he might appear, and in his limp was the authority of a veteran guardsman on his rounds, or of a battle-worn king, walking his camp on the eve of battle.
He soon arrived at the Guild Enclave, where the buildings rose higher than all others. They cast long shadows so that even in the day the roads were draped in darkness. The seat of the Guild’s power, this section was in the best repair of any district of the City. Here stood the Governor General’s mansion and the Guild’s various offices.
Here was where privilege resided, vacationing in this alien world. The thought of vacationing in this City made Leveticus laugh, but the Governor General was careful to shelter his influential visitors from the more unseemly elements of this world.
His destination in sight, Leviticus entered the offices of Madame Criid. As chief officer of the Guild’s Witch Hunter task force, Madame Criid had no qualms about turning the techniques of her prey against them. Her quarters were filled with all manner of mystic devices, some bubbling, others spinning, a great many glowing, crackling, or sparking. Of all the Guild offices, save for those of the Governor General himself, the Witch Hunters were the largest. Its chambers were filled, or so was popular belief, with the various arcane monstrosities perpetrated by the Arcanist threat, all these blasphemous magics under intense study. It was even rumoured that deep below the Witch Hunter offices was a dungeon where these criminals were imprisoned, a dungeon connected to an ancient catacomb beneath the City. Sonnia Criid was hunched over what looked like a miniature astrolabe, and Leveticus walked slowly toward her, making sure his cane clacked loudly against the tile floor. Turning, she exhaled a lungful of pungent smoke. “You’re late.” She ground her cigarette against one of the spheres of the astrolabe, leaving a burnt circle on its polished surface. “Would it kill you to get a cab?”
“No. I tried.” Leviticus waved away Sonnia Criid’s perplexed frown. “I like walking at night. You meet all sorts of interesting people at night.”
“Really? I prefer to meet interesting people with all the lights on, and a gun in my hand. What news of that woman and her blade?”
Leveticus gave a stiff but respectful bow. “Viktoria has arrived. Your source was correct. She carries with her an oriental blade in a cherry wood scabbard. I was not able to inspect the blade, but the dimensions match the description you gave. I believe it to be the Masamune. Alyce is currently following her.”
Smiling widely, she slapped Leveticus roughly on his shoulder so that he almost toppled over. “Your little poppet is keeping an eye on my priceless artifact, is she? She best not lose my sword, Leveticus.”
He straightened his back, standing at his full height. He let his irritation show for a moment, and then quieted his gaze when Criid got the message. She was a powerful ally, but it did not hurt to occasionally remind her that so was he. “She is capable. Tell me, Sonnia, what is your interest in the blade? I know you well enough to realize it’s not historical relics that concern you.”
“Come, let me show you. If anyone can appreciate my curiosity, it would be you.”
Sonnia navigated the labyrinthine passages of the Witch Hunter stronghold, Leviticus finding it difficult to keep pace. The old injury in his leg, the one that never quite healed, had flared up at the unseasonably cold weather. He managed, though, gritting his teeth and bearing the old, familiar pain like a friend, and soon the pair arrived at a locked chamber.
It was a large steel door with several iron bars sealing it. Withdrawing a ring of keys, Madame Criid addressed each lock in turn before drawing a lever to pull open the door. Inside the windowless chamber was a writing desk with a large map unfurled across its surface. The walls were decorated with a dozen beautifully inked scrolls.
Leveticus entered and took out a pair of reading glasses from within his coat. The scrolls were large, a meter in width, and as tall as a man. Each held an individual scene of intricate artistry, and was filled with exotic foreign characters.
He looked at Madame Criid. “These are Nippon logographs,” he said in surprise.
Tugging off a silk glove as she moved to Leveticus’ side, she touched the crisp paper of the scroll. “Correct. They were found by the Ortegas, being transported by gremlins in the swamp.”
“Gremlins? They’re barely self-aware. And they are inherently destructive. What interest could they possibly have in these, but more importantly how did they acquire them?”
Sonnia smiled knowingly, studying the characters inked on the scroll before her. “And now you understand my curiosity, Leveticus. Can you read them?”
Leveticus shook his head. “No, I’ve never learned the Nippon language.”
"These scrolls tell the story of a desperate prefect whose province was plagued by a demon. His lord had become possessed and led his army to raze the countryside. With no place left to go, this prefect journeyed into the mountains to pray. There he came upon a small school and the master of that school. That master, according to the writing in these scrolls, was the legendary swordsmith, Masamune. Masamune gifted this man with a blade. Armed, the prefect returned to his lands, sought out his lord, and struck him with the sword."
As Sonnia spoke, Leveticus realized the events of the story were recorded in the images on the scrolls. He saw the prefect confronting the lord. The demon appeared as a bright red aura that surrounded him. The sword swept through the lord’s body, but he was unharmed. The demon, however, was cut down the middle and defeated. The final scroll showed the sword being enshrined.
Sonnia traced the final character. "This represents unending peace and prosperity. Perhaps that peace came to a close because the sword was taken. As we both know, all of Masamune's blades are lost."
"But you believe one of them has been found?" Leveticus asked. "You believe the blade of this woman you had me follow tonight is the same blade described in this tale?"
"I do, and I think I am not the only one, but my theory extends further." Sonnia said, grasping her hands behind her back and pacing around the room. "I believe these scrolls arrived in Malifaux with the first Governor General, in that time before the Breach was sealed against us. I believe that a Neverborn creature captured these scrolls and was somehow able to decipher their language. These creatures have displayed varying amounts of intelligence, and there are a great many devices and magics that exist in this City that we have not been able to divine the purpose for."
Leveticus interjected before Sonnia could get too far from her point. "And you believe that whichever creature translated these scrolls has reached the same conclusion you have regarding Viktoria’s sword, and has contacted her, summoned her to this place? All for the Masamune?"
He could see her sizing him up, choosing her words carefully. "That is what I believe."
Not quite sure if she shared her certainty, Leviticus examined the scrolls a second time. The only Masamune in the world was not something that would simply allow itself to be found, not without cause, and not by just anyone. Why here? Why now? Why Viktoria? It seemed the population of interesting people in Malifaux had just gained a significant new member. After several minutes of silence, he turned his eyes to Sonnia. "You could have told me this before I sent my Alyce after that woman."
Sonnia laughed softly in surprise, and shook her head. "You did say your poppet was capable, Leveticus."