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As always, he admired the ingenuity of the hidden shrine. The Magi Victus who built it must have been a master engineer.

Sanje squatted down and found the brick he was looking for. He pushed it and it sank deeper into the wall. He stepped back and watched as a section of the wall began sliding sideways, revealing a sturdy iron door.

There was no door handle; only a small slot in the middle of the door. Sanje took out his Shadow Dagger and slide it into the wall. The runes of the dagger began to glow. There was a loud clicking sound and the door swung smoothly open. Sanje removed the dagger and held his torch up high. The room beyond emanated an overwhelming sense of age and history. He closed the door behind him.

Sanje walked down the pitch-black hallway, his torch the only source of light. His footsteps were muffled by the accumulation of dust on the ground. He walked for several minutes before the air changed noticeably and the hallway walls curved outward.

Sanje walked the edge of the wall until he came to the first torch. He lit it with his own torch and continued walking the perimeter of the room. After several minutes, he lit the ring of torches that surrounded the domed chamber.

Sanje set his torch in an empty bracket and walked to the middle of the room. He simply stood there for several minutes in silent contemplation. Am I worthy to stand here? He always asked himself that same question. He was very young to be the Master Victus. He had gained his position in questionable ways. Still, he felt a sense of belonging when he stood here.

A plain slab of unremarkable stone stood in front of him. The stone stretched nearly the entire length of the oval chamber and rose well over his head. As always, he wondered how this immense stone made its way down to the sewers. It was oddly out of place.

The only interesting thing about the gigantic slab of stone was the thousands of Shadow Daggers that adorned it and the scrawling runes that covered it.

The sight always filled him with awe. Here was where the sacrifices of the Magi Victus were honored. Every Magi Victus that chose to make his dagger looked forward to the day that their dagger would be honored here. He did not know the runes that covered the stone but he found them beautiful, nonetheless.

Sanje walked toward the edge of the stone and found the last Shadow Dagger that hung there, secured on a metal plaque. It was eye level with him. He took from his pouch a metal plaque, a hammer, several thick nails. He hammered the nails through the holes in the plaque and into the stone next to the last dagger until it held fast.

He removed a wrapping from his pouch. Reverently, he unwrapped the cloth to reveal a Shadow Dagger. I have kept my promise, Alio. You will be honored.

The plaque bore no name; nor did any of the others. Names were unimportant when compared to the life of a man. The Shadow Dagger was all the mattered. He hung Alio's dagger carefully on the hooks that extended from the plaque.

Sanje stepped back and watched as Alio's dagger glowed brighter and brighter until he had to turn his head away, tears streaming down his cheeks. The light slowly faded and all that was left was the flickering light cast by the torches.

Alio's dagger no longer looked like a dagger hung on a plaque. It seemed to belong to the stone now, even if it looked the same as it did just seconds ago. But Sanje knew that instant death awaited any hand that would seek to touch any of the daggers.

Sanje knelt on the floor and hung his head. Soon he would have to seek out Raynolt and discover his plans for the war. Soon he would have to prepare his men to fight and die. But, for now, Sanje embraced the customary night-long vigil and honored a man named Alio.


It was one of the happiest days of Jon d'Thelas san Ronar's life.

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