"Bring out your dead! Bring out your dead!" the man called out as he pulled his hand drawn cart through the center of the cobblestone road. Several passersby hurried alongside him, pressing their bodies up against the buildings that bordered the street to stay as far from the man and his cart as possible. Heads down, legs walking briskly, they dared not speak to him or meet his eyes.

This man was a Corpse Hunter, the one who came for your friends, the one who came for your loved ones, and in time the one who came for you. He knew when that time would come, often arriving even before your family had become aware of your departure from the land of the living.

But his Fate was not death itself, only that which followed closely behind it. The deafening silence that came after a dying man's last breath, the biting chill that entered a woman's body when her heart stopped beating, the palatable dread that filled the souls of those who set eyes upon their deceased kin.

This was the Fate of a Corpse Hunter, this was their existence, this was the world of the man who pulled the cart. While the others could shun him they could not deny what he truly was, an end to all that which had a beginning.

"Bring out your dead!" the man continued to call out. He was dressed in gray from head to toe, the only exception being his dark brown leather boots. While black may have been a color more appropriate to his Fate, only those who ventured out into The Blackened Wilds wore the colors of the night. He continued to walk and shout until he took notice of two figures standing in the center of the road who were intentionally blocking his path.

Both men wore helmets and chainmail armor made of steel and were armed with spears and shields. The spears were pointed up towards the sky as though they didn't intend to start a fight but their body language implied they were ready for one should it arise.

They wore matching Medallions that bore the symbol of a clenched fist, which identified them as having the Fate of the Protectorate. This wasn't surprising to the Corpse Hunter as it was a fairly common Fate and many of the City Guard had it, though not every Protectorate chose the life of a Descender.

Their abilities were just as useful for enforcing the peace as they were for protecting those who ventured into the Dungeons above the city. For this reason it was just as likely to see a Protectorate in a party of Ascenders as it was to see them patrolling the streets.

"What are you doing?" The older of the two men asked when the Corpse Hunter came within ten feet of them. His voice carried a tone of authority with just a hint of annoyance.

"My job," the Corpse Hunter answered curtly as he stopped his cart ten paces from them.

His tone wasn't outright disrespectful but his choice of words expressed his displeasure at being stopped by two noisy City Guards. It was as if the peace keepers of Plinth didn't have anything better to do than harass him in the middle of his duties. He tipped his hat, more so to get a better look at the two Protectorates than to acknowledge their position of authority.

"Please present your Medallion for inspection," the Guard replied.

There was a moment of tense silence before the man in gray reluctantly reached into a pocket and retrieved a Medallion that bore the image of a coffin, the Fate of the Corpse Hunter. The older Protectorate nodded to the younger one and together they approached the man with the cart to inspect his Medallion.

In the early days when Column Dwellers first gained their Fates there hadn't been a record keeping process to track what Fates were bestowed to each child. This had been a dangerous oversight as it allowed the first generation to hide their abilities from their parents and peers, using them behind the backs of their fellow Column Dwellers. In some cases this resulted in widespread destruction and in other cases it resulted in fatalities.

Communities took it upon themselves to keep track of what gifts were given out so special attention could be given to those with exceptionally dangerous powers. Though in some rare cases children inherited abilities so powerful they were cast out of their Columns for fear of what they might unleash upon their fellow Column Dwellers.

When the Ascension Academy rose to power it brought with it a new mandate, all Fates were to be registered and cataloged with the Academy and local Councils. This safeguard protected the Columns and those within them against those who would seek to use their abilities for personal gain at the expense of others or in the pursuit of evil.

It was rumored that some Fates were deemed so detrimental to the welfare of others that the Ascension Academy would execute anyone who exhibited signs of having them on the spot. This was unconfirmed of course but it was an undeniable truth that the Academy took Fate Registration very seriously. Losing your Fate Medallion could result in a fine or imprisonment. Refusing to wear it or donning a Medallion that didn't match your assigned Fate was met with expulsion from your Column or, if the offender refused to leave willingly, death.

This was the reason why the Corpse Hunter had complied with the City Guard's request. Even someone like him was not above the laws set forth by the Ascension Academy and Council of Plinth and so he was compelled to abide by them or face the consequences of his actions.

He held the Medallion out at arm's length, allowing the Guards to examine it for as long as they liked. After a cursory glance the older Protectorate nodded, seemingly satisfied with the impromptu inspection.

"Good," he said aloud. "Now, do you care to tell me why you're stumbling around, shouting at folks, and putting the fear of the gods into them?”

"I have no idea what you mean," the Corpse Hunter replied. "I'm just out here doing my job."

"Are you trying to tell me that walking around drunk in the center of the road and terrifying the locals is part of your Fate?"

"I'd call it an occupational hazard and who said I'm drunk?" the man in gray asked defensively. "I only have a mild buzz going."

"I could smell it on you from ten feet away Aiden, your breath has more alcohol content than a flagon of mead. You are piss drunk and I don't need the Fate of the Truth Seeker to tell me that."

"Oh come on Landon, I'm as sober as a fox, here I'll prove it." The Corpse Hunter let go of his wagon's handles, took one step, and promptly fell flat on his face.

Even while it was empty the weight of the wooden cart had been enough to keep him upright, but without his counterweight he couldn't even take two steps. Blood poured out of his now broken nose as he showed no signs of even registering the injury.

"Have you no shame man?" Landon asked, looking down at the pitiful sight.

"I lost my shame in a poker game, up in the old belfry! Tried to win it back with a pair of jacks but it just wasn't meant to be!" Aiden sang, before vomiting all over the older Guard's boots and unceremoniously passing out in the street.

"Were those your new boots?" the younger Guard asked.

"Yes," Landon replied while placing his face in the palm of his hand. "They were a gift from the wife."

"So," the younger Guard said, deciding to change the subject before his boss got any more upset. "What should we do with him?" He gestured towards the unconscious Corpse Hunter as he spoke.

"Throw him into the cart. We'll haul him back with us to the Guard Station and let him sober up in a cell. We'll have to stop by a General Store along the way though, I need to buy some boot polish."

The Guard Station that Aiden had been hauled off to was a modest brick structure that stood two stories tall. The second floor acted as a barracks for any Guards who needed a rest between their duties. While housing was a guaranteed right to all who lived within the city of Plinth some of the City Guard still preferred the convenience of resting above their workplace rather than commuting to and from their homes. This was especially true for the bachelors and bachelorettes who didn’t have a family to keep them company.

On the first floor of the Guard Station was the front desk where any problems within the city could be addressed. That was also where the prison cells were located and where most of the city's problems could be contained. Such was the case for the local Corpse Hunter, brought in for public intoxication and conspiracy to commit fear mongering. These were real crimes, small as they may be, that could bring with them a modest fine or prison sentence.

But Landon knew that Aiden always drank away any money he had as soon as he got it and it wasn't really feasible to keep the only Corpse Hunter in all of Plinth locked up until he changed his ways. He had a duty after all, one that was a far greater punishment than anything Landon could threaten him with. For out of all the many Fates that one could inherit, not a single Column Dweller was envious of the Fate of the Corpse Hunter.

When the door to the Guard Station opened Landon didn't bother to look up. He was busy wiping the remnants of stale beer and bread chunks off his boots.

"Welcome to Station Seven, please state your business and remain behind the white line unless instructed otherwise."

It was the same thing he said to anyone that entered his domain. He'd said it so many times that his wife teased him about saying it in his sleep. Whether that was true or not he wasn't sure but he took her for her word as she was an honest woman and it wasn't an outlandish claim to make, all things considered.

"I'm looking for someone that I believe is in your custody," the female voice replied.

"Please describe the individual in question," the Guard replied with the same monotone voice as before. He sounded as though he were quoting a textbook.

"Just over six feet tall, black hair, amber eyes, wears a matching set of gray trousers, overcoat, and tricorn hat. Often seen pulling a wooden cart," the voice said.

"Aye, that would be the Corpse Hunter. He's currently under care of the City Guard for matters that cannot be publicly discussed. If you've recently incurred a loss in your family you have my deepest condolences and I give you my word that if you leave your name and address with me that it will be addressed once he is able to resume his duties."

This wasn't the first time that Aiden had gotten so drunk he couldn't properly carry out the duties of his Fate. It actually happened on a regular enough basis that Landon had issued a written response to each of the other Guard Stations in the city should they be forced to throw Aiden into a cell to sober up just like what had happened today. That was exactly the response that he himself was now quoting.

"Then I formally request to have his care transferred to that of the Ascension Academy."

At the mention of the Ascension Academy the poor Guard nearly fell out of his chair. He scrambled to put his boot back on and stand to properly address the woman who stood before him.

"Lady Edevane, I apologize for not giving you a reception worthy of your title. I was not aware that the Academy would be stopping by today." He straightened out his uniform as he walked around the desk to shake the red headed woman's hand, nearly tripping over his still untied boot in the process.

"This is not an inspection," Lady Edevane replied. "That is the Council of Plinth's domain. I am merely here for the gentleman in your custody, the one with the Fate of the Corpse Hunter."

"Of course, allow me to take you to him, my lady." Landon nearly tripped a second time causing the woman to sigh loudly.

"You may take the time necessary to ensure you do not injure yourself in my presence," Lady Edevane said, more out of the interest of speeding things up than a personal concern for the Guard's wellbeing.

"Yes, thank you, my lady." Landon replied, awkwardly stopping in the middle of the room to tie his shoe as quickly as possible.

He hadn't been able to find any shoe polish on the way to the Guard Station and had sent his subordinate to go look for some in the other neighboring districts. When his boots were securely attached to his feet he led his guest to the Corpse Hunter's resting place.

Aiden lay on a wooden cot in the cell closest to the front desk, snoring loudly. "Is he drunk?" the woman asked when she looked through the bars of the jail cell.

"Uh yes, that would be the case, my lady," Landon admitted. She wasn't a Truth Seeker but he knew well enough not to lie or even try to sugarcoat the facts with a member of the Academy. Especially one as well renowned and powerful as Lady Edevane.

She reached her arm through the bars and placed her hand on the bare neck of the man that lay sleeping before her. That was one of the few drawbacks of her Fate, she had to make skin on skin contact with her intended target for it to work. She had been gifted with the ability to alter the chemical makeup of living beings in an instant, which she did to remove the toxins from Aiden's body, forcing him to sober up in less time than it took for either of them to draw a single breath.

It wasn't just her title that gave Lady Edevane such reverence among the other Column Dwellers, it was her Fate. With just one finger she could purge your body of any known life threatening illnesses or impurities. Or she could just as easily fill your blood stream with enough Purple Wyrm venom to rot your organs from the inside out.

And with her place near the top of the Ascension Academy there wouldn't be a soul around willing to question her motives as long as she didn't strike down one of her handful of peers or superiors. That was the power that came with her position as well as from inheriting the Fate of the Organic Alchemist.

"Wake up Corpse Hunter, " Lady Edevane said with a cold, formal tone as she stood over him with crossed arms. “You have business with the Academy.”