@securiis
As the night stretched on week after week, life in Lestallum began to adopt a predictable shape. The lights, always on to stave off the Daemons multiplying outside the city’s outskirts, would brighten to a weak facsimile of “Day”, and Cor Leonis would wait in the city square for his running partner. They met early, before the crowds of the city really woke and the streets became choked with vendors and refugees. He’d grown to rely on this daily ritual, and the man who ran with him. Libertus’ leg had healed since the Fall of Insomnia, but it was still weak, and Cor was going to see him through his recovery. Libertus was an experienced Daemon-slayer, his time in the Kingsglaive against the Empire’s captive monsters helped, and he’d be an asset to help the Hunters.
Well, that was the reason on paper for why he devoted his time to this. More selfishly, Libertus was a sort of kindred spirit. They were both soldiers and both of them had outlived everyone they’d worked to protect. Both of them were painfully familiar with the question “Why was I spared?” and neither of them had ever found an answer. Cor had known the man while he was a Glaive, had liked his humor at the time, dry and cynical, but now, he felt he was really coming to know him.
So, as the lights rose, and the alarm on Cor’s watch went off, and Libertus Ostium failed to appear at their usual rendezvous, Cor’s brow furrowed. As minutes ticked by and his phone didn’t even ring with a hurried apology, or explanation or excuse, he began to worry. He tried calling, assuming he’d simply overslept, but the call went directly to voicemail. This was... odd. Why was his phone turned off? Worried, the marshal turned towards Libertus’ apartment, keeping his eyes open for him on the street just in case, until he’d made it to his door. He hesitated, then knocked. “Ostium? You up?”
