Liam walked with Nyota, the pair leaning on each other for support. Militia and townsfolk walked behind them, forming a trail of battered souls. The cathedral of Avignon was only a block away from where Heir Blackwood met his end, but it took nearly an hour before Liam felt vital enough to close the gap. It was telling that several militia had gone ahead, only to return from the cathedral shortly thereafter, whispering discouraging words to Arlet. Who prevented them from meeting Liam. A mercy, as he was completely drained. Able to do nothing more than hold Nyota''s hand. His mutated hand felt like it had been through an oven, and the soreness from his earlier run was beginning to set in.


    He could only guess that Nyota’s neck was the same. Despite her constant care his lightning burns had yet to heal, with sporadic muscle spasms, leaving no doubt in his mind that the lightning had critically damaged his nervous system. That would likely take years to heal, if he was lucky enough to recovered fully.


    The people around them looked just as abused. Newly homeless women and children wandered about, uncertain where to go, or even where to stand. Not only had their own homes been burnt to ashes, but so had their neighbors, and their neighbors’ neighbors. Grim faces bore the soot of the earlier fires, breaking Liam’s heart with each look.


    Several women joined the cortege, searching for sons and fathers. Tears sprang to their eyes as several realized their loved ones were not present. The blond militiaman, Pascal, went to them, speaking soft words that brought more tears.


    Liam could not stand to watch them any longer, conscience weighing on his heart like an anvil. For all his godly powers he was helpless to save this town, or any others. When he returned to Greenhaven he would have to triage the other cities, Petra —the home of a green wizard— would be abandoned next. Then Kesky, both towns were farming communities with no walls or cathedrals or any form of fortification.


    If circumstances are similar in each town. There might not be anyone left to triage. Liam concluded.


    His teeth ground together, he was able to protect one city at a time and six called him lord. As the smallest town in his fiefdom his subconscious mind had guessed that Avignon would fall. But this was too soon! Blackwood was little more than a day’s ride from here, his outriders should have been here!


    Damn Heir Blackwood. I hope your soul suffers as much as the people you ignored. You had an earth mage and six knights but let the people fight and die in your stead… Does this world even have a concept of Hell? Ah, that would be Hades, across the river Styx. Good, I hope you rest in piss Oliver.


    Shaking his head, he cleared the darkest thoughts from his mind, looking around the town as the cortege limped forward. By extinguishing the flames Rhendal saved what remained of the town, a victory that Liam wished was more meaningful. A home meant little when no one remained to enjoy it’s shelter. Everywhere he looked, Liam saw broken families, a woman to his left buried her head in her hands, trying to hide her tears from the young girl at her side. The child couldn’t be older than six, and soon she too was tugging on her mother’s skirt, asking when they could go home.


    “Will dad be waiting when we go home?” Asked the girl child, making her mother cry more fiercely than before.


    Similar scenes played out across the procession, children wandered aimlessly, asking their neighbors where their parents or siblings were. The militiamen failed them, too distraught to give any answers other than direct ones, pointing children to the bodies of their parents. Some split off from the group, trying to find the bodies. Arlet watched them go, quietly ordering ten of the militia to watch over the children. The last thing Avignon needed was to lose their next generation.


    Soon the cortege had swelled to more than forty people, most seemed to be drawn to Liam’s wake. The determination in his eyes gave them direction, or maybe it was Arlet’s polished armor. After all he had fought for them, killed two knights who had refused to aid Avignon.


    Ahead of them towered the imposing steeple of Avignon’s Cathedral, a symbol of unwavering faith and the cornerstone of the community’s social and religious life.


    As he neared the church, the grandeur of its architecture became increasingly apparent. Elaborate stone carvings adorned the fa?ade, depicting lightning motifs that would withstand many centuries. The chiseled, weathered stones exuded an aura of power and tradition, beckoning him onward. Colossal wooden doors, etched with the tales of the ascendant Therun Taloc, God King of humanity, hinted at the sanctity that lay within. No hymns would be sung today, but many prayers had already been offered to the church of the Holy Fulminonimbus. More commonly known as the church of the Heavenly Thunder or simply the fulminonimbus.


    Green’s memories of this church rose in Liam’s mind, pounding against his skull until he stopped and welcomed them into conscience.


    [Split mind] skill acquired


    Liam gasped in relief, his headache vanishing with the notification. Green’s memories slid into his mind as easily as his own, finally becoming parsable, melding their lives and memories. What Green knew, Liam now knew. As the local Lord, Baron Green had spent a great deal of time in and around the church. Priests or bishops often called on him, begging for funds or admonishing him for his lascivious conduct. The church of the heavenly thunder, as the common people called it, was the official state religion, enjoying the full backing of King Aldric and his court. Other memories surfaced, tales of the churches’ founding. How the God King of old had stolen his lightning from forgotten gods, turning their lightning into thunder and casting down the powers that were.


    Gears worked in Liam’s mind. Aided by Green’s memories several facts became immediately evident to him. Lightning mages were rare, exceptionally rare. The last one he knew of had been labeled a prophet of the church and given stewardship over a dukedom, one formed from the ashes of the last kingdom to resist Eldarion''s advance across the continent. Of course the kingdom was in ashes because he had used his lightning to obliterate all resistance.


    Lightning wielders were not called mages, they were called Lightning Lords, and their arrival heralded change, via conquest or diplomacy. They were an unsubtle way the God king, Therun Taloc, chose to manifest his will on the world.


    Furthermore, Lightning Lords were exempt from the law, for what were the laws of men to the chosen scions of God. They could do as they pleased and the church would back them unconditionally, or so the common people said. Green and Liam knew better than to believe that, but he was aware of the church’s official stance. A position the kings of old had always chosen to honor. Except when they chose to kill the Lightning Lord. Magic did nothing to enhance his body, a blade would still cut his throat, poison would still intoxicate him. He would soon need agents to watch the shadows of his bedchambers, those who dwelt in darkness to slay the darkness.


    Liam swallowed, as the last wave of Green’s memories settled. No lightning mages were known to exist in this era, though the church possessed secret access to a few lightning spells that could be taught to mages with equal affinity for fire and wind. These ‘lightning priests’ were weak, pathetic imitations who were chosen more for their loyalty than any magical acumen. Baron Green guessed they numbered in the single digits and were always found within the upper echelons of the church’s paladins. First Captain Thaddeus of Kheresh Dukedom was one such lightning priest, with his father, Archbishop Judas being another.


    What an unfortunate name, though, it lacks the connotations of my world. Odd that. We share Greek and Hebrew traditions, but not Christian ones.


    Nyota sensed his troubled mind and squeezed his hand. Unintentionally spurring a hundred memories to synchronize with his own intelligence. Felinarians were a parallel race to humanity. Interbreeding was physically possible but did not produce offspring, making the female felines extremely popular among the unscrupulous. Several subtypes of Felinarians existed, each with different fur patterns and minor cosmetic traits. All were enslaved by church and king. Except for one subtype.


    Eclipsiarchs, monarchs of the eclipse, were a prohibited species. So dangerous to public order that their mere existence threatened the King. Cats who could cast magic, like Nyota, King Aldric’s law was clear, they were to be killed on sight. Any noble who sheltered them would be fined or sanctioned, worse still, that punishment would only be granted after the noble executed the Eclipsiarch themselves through the most barbarous methods possible. Failure to comply would result in their own execution.


    Oh man… Nyota is the most dangerous woman in the Barony... Hmm, that''s kinda hot.


    Liam paused, confused by his own reaction. Soon realizing that she was also the most valuable. Since a standing bounty was offered for each eclipsiarch head, currently standing at one hundred gold coins when last Baron Green had heard of it. A single gold coin represented ten silver coins, and each silver coin represented ten coppers, while a single copper represented a day’s worth of labor. The end result was that killing an Eclipsiarch would equate to ten thousand days worth of labor, more than enough wealth for a band of soldiers to retire.


    Nyota, with her magic and lineage, represented treason against the king himself. He would have to assign knights to her directly.


    This isn’t right. I arrived here with treason incarnate at my side and the Lightning Power of God. Grandma may have loved taking me to church, but I never bought into organized religion, too many old ladies weeping over nothing. And now my greatest ally might be a similar organized religion. If Therun Taloc is still kicking around, he must be laughing his balls off.


    The great doors of the church swung open and a priest in white robes trimmed in gold appeared. Eerily reminiscent of a catholic priest, the only thing setting them apart was the silver emblems woven into his robes. He held staff in one hand and a thick book tucked under his other arm. If Green’s memories were correct then the book was a grimoire of holy magic, more a weapon than a canon of scriptures.


    “Who dares intrude on God’s holy church!” He demanded, drops of spittle escaped as he shouted.


    Bro, chill out. You’re spitting after hello? That''s more agro than my cousin vinney after ten lines of cocaine.


    Liam paused. Not understanding why the priest was so worked up, his neighbors were coming to him for safety and guidance in their time of crisis. This is why priests existed in this world and on Earth. One of their rare commonalities.


    “Intrude? I don’t understand your meaning. This cathedral was built to protect Avignon, that’s why my family paid for it. I apologize if you feel we are intruding, but we will need to use the church as a sanctuary for the time being.” Answered Liam forthrightly.


    The priest looked down his nose at Liam, not dignifying his words with a response. His gaze wandered over Nyota, lingering a moment too long on her exposed neck and fraying dress. Lips curling when he saw the necklace, a twine band and small silver thunder bolt, as if she were unworthy of Taloc''s protection. His frown twisted deeper. Planting his staff mana began to flow, summoning a half circle of hedges in front of the church. With a hole piercing the center, forcing anyone who wished to enter the church into a single file line.


    That’s some neat crowd control… Where were you during the orc raid?


    Liam stopped walking, his heart beat hastening as he answered the question.


    “A priest’s duty is to his people, tell me this, where were you when the monsters attacked?” Asked Liam, stepping in front of Nyota.


    He lifted his cane off the ground and straightened to his full height. Pain flooded his back and legs, little more than an insect’s buzzing compared to his fury. The priest scowled, channeling more magic into the hedges, who grew taller.


    “Defending your church is an honourable calling, but I wonder… How much magic did you use in defense of the church’s people?” Asked Liam, advancing through the hedges with a boldness that his mana levels did not support.


    I''ll only get one shot.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    The priest waved his staff and the hedges grew even thicker, sprouting inch long thorns.


    “Silence you treasonous heretic! Have you no respect for the sanctity of the most sacred Fulminonimbus?” Howled the priest.


    “That’s oddly rude.” Muttered Liam, pausing in the middle of the hedges, the priest was only ten feet away. Close enough for a rational conversation, without the need for screaming or shouting. “Priest of Avignon, your conduct leaves much to be desired. You and I are civilized men, if you do not wish for me to enter, then I shall remain where I am. If you would just talk-”


    “I speak not to you, but to the filth that clings to your coattails. Send them away! This church is shut to the likes of you!” Ordered the priest, waving his staff at the haggard militia.


    Liam’s jaw fell open. This was absurd! Baron Green had paid a fortune for the church, he even gave monthly donations so there would be a mage priest on staff to protect the town and the six other priests of Avignon... Six, missing priests. Now here they were, the priest whose job it was to guide and protect the people, sending them away when he was needed most. The clergyman standing in opposition to the very lord who had brought him there.


    So much for the church being an ally. This whole situation reeks of someone buying them off… Blackwood maybe? No, he is wealthier, but not so wealthy that he could bribe the church in his lands and mine.


    “Good Father, I have seen enough lives lost today and have no more stomach for bloodshed. Please, I do not wish to see any more of my people succumb to the monsters, will you shepherd your neighbors as is your duty?” Asked Liam.


    The priest’s mouth twisted into a scowl when Liam said ‘duty’, as if he had been severely insulted.


    “I have already blessed all those who were worthy of God’s mercies. Begon cat sodomizer! And take that filthy beast with you, you disgusting cretin.” Shouted the priest.


    It took everything Liam had not to laugh. What was the man even talking about? Cat were fluffy, not sexy, sodomizing them was a stupidly fancy term for something he would never do—


    —Then it clicked.


    The priest had meant Nyota.


    Liam clenched his jaw shut.


    He is a mage, don’t kill him. He can be useful, think of all the lives an earth mage can save… Thought Liam, inhaling deeply as he tried to calm down. On hand went to his brow, shading his face and hiding his eyes from the priest. Calm down… relax, he thought of ocean sounds and fresh mountain air, anything he could to move past the insult. It might have been enough, if not for what he saw in the dirt. Fresh hoofprints marred the earth, showing the passage of several riders. U shapes carved into the dry dirt by heavy burdens. Mounted knights with armor and provisions must have passed by the Cathedral... Heir Blackwood had come here.


    “You let Blackwood and his knights in, how are they worthy?” Whispered Liam, speaking his thoughts aloud.


    “He was worthier than a dud like you will ever be! Same goes for your stinking militia and cunt of a pussycat-”


    *CRACK*


    The final straw of patience snapped, what little mana remained within his body had been formed into a single hard spear. Liam’s finger gun blasted the lightning spear through the priest, eviscerating his heart and lungs in a millisecond. Streaking hard light crossed the distance igniting the hedges with it’s intensity.


    [Mana manipulation] increased to level 8


    Liam spun on his heel, marching straight to Pascal for answers. His vision darkening as he shouted. “Did the knights sit on their asses while you fought and died?” He screamed, face red with fury.


    “Uhm, well, one of them had been wounded m’lord.”


    “And the other five?” Shouted Liam.


    The man shrank away from Liam, terrified by the lord’s new visage.


    “N- no my lord. They did not, not even after we called for aid.” Whispered the man.


    Liam let out a howl of rage, falling to his knees. He tried pounding the dirt, but neither hand would close into a fist, twitching from nerve damage. A hand slip into his, holding it despite the muscle spasms. He snapped forward, ready to tear out the newcomer’s throat, he was so exhausted, so tired of petty nobles, so fed up with a church built on golden vanity. Nyota’s feline pupils gazed into his own, erasing his anger with her twin orbs of compassion. Rage and adrenaline expired, deflating his fury like a soap bubble against a belt sander.


    This world was a senseless brawl, where helping others seemed to come at a price no one was willing to pay. Darkness wrapped Liam in it’s cold embrace.


    Time passed the pair by, when Liam awoke he was inside of the cathedral, resting his head on Nyota’s lap. She was sleeping, head cocked forward at an angle that made her purr softly with each breath. Outside the sun was setting, a red haze streaming through stained glass windows. On the third floor of the church, children kept watch, calling out the various beasts that wandered through Avignon. Fire-wolves and shadow tigers prowled the world outside, scavenging the ruins and devouring Avignon’s fallen. Cheers burst from the line of children as a pack of hellhounds tore into a bear, picking it apart until only they remained.


    Liam raised his head, looking more closely at the people around him. There were thirty or so adults, eyes red and puffy from their own suffering. To their credit, all working, standing guard, stitching wounds, or moving supplies into the church. While Arlet wasted no time ordering the priest’s finery to be ripped into bandages and stitches.


    Strangely enough, it was Rhendal who seemed to be having a picnic, perched atop an impromptu bench made of chests with several gilded books in his lap. All the while he ran his burn fingers through his beard, mumbling to himself. A true scholar fully engrossed in their discipline. Not even when Liam sat down beside him did Rhendal notice the intrusion.


    “Ahem, find something interesting?”


    “What? Oh! Lord Green! Yes indeed I have, just look at this ledger, it has quite the extensive cipher on it, see how these page numbers are all incorrect? That’s what clued me in on the first of three puzzles-” Began Rhendal, not stopping his explanation when he saw Liam’s eyes glaze over.


    “I have no mind for ciphers Rhendal, give me the spark notes.” Ordered Liam.


    “Spark notes? Uhm, odd turn of phrase, but simply put, priest Sebestian there was embezzling funds quite dramatically! Wages for six priests and a mage arrive each year, but there are only three men on staff. So greedy. Bah, he even took bribes from Blackwood, though it is unclear if Heir Blackwood or Viscount Blackwood was the sponsor.” Said Rhendal, mischievous glee glowing in his words.


    Priests taking bribes… Why am I not surprised? Fancy building, self aggrandizing clergy, at least he didn’t get away with it…


    “Rhendal, where is the gold? Old Sebestian won’t be needing it anymore, so it is only right that we return it to the people of Greenwood…”


    The old sage gave him a toothy grin, patting the chests he was sitting on. “The priest filled the cellar with the best whine and cheese in the northlands. It wouldn’t be enough to feed the whole village, but now…” Rhendal began, letting his sentence go unfinished.


    “Extensive casualties means there are fewer mouths to feed” Said Arlet.


    Pascal, the oldest surviving militiaman, joined their conversation, a bottle of wine in one hand and a spear in the other.


    “M’lord! You saved us, God must have sent you to punish our hoarding priest!” He shouted.


    Did he just call me an angel? Heck no, nope!


    “I am only a man, performing my duties as your lord. I wish to leave my knights here, to be the shepherd this scum should have been.” He said, pointing to Sebestian’s smoking corpse.


    Arlet tensed, already guessing Liam’s plans.


    “I need the militia here to strengthen Mont St Michel, but without food you would just be a hindrance. Gather all the provisions and wagons that remain in Avignon, then seal the church and go to Mont St Michel.” Said Liam.


    His words found little purchase with Pascal, whose doubtful gaze met his own. Several passersby slowed to listen in on the conversation.


    “You just arrived, with only a handful of knights my lord… are you already planning on leaving us?” Asked Pascal, wringing his hands.


    “Lightning Lord! Take us with you!” Cried a man.


    “Yes, take us with you!” Begged a woman.


    “Save us!” Said a girl.


    “Enslave us, but let us come with you!” Cried the woman who had lost her husband to the orcs.


    “ENOUGH!” Shouted Arlet, pounding his fists together.


    The people fell silent at the champion’s words, and Liam nodded appreciatively.


    “If it were within my power, I would portal all of you to safety. Sadly, It is not. Over the next few days my sage can magic some of you to Greenhaven. We will take the weakest and most injured, those who cannot travel or would hinder the caravan. After that, my knights will lead the majority of you to Mont St Michel. When this plague has ended, we''ll rebuild Avignon, but for now, you must be the saviors of Mont St Michel, feeding those who will guard you through winter. Take all the wagons and food you can gather with you.”


    Three of Arlet’s knights saluted at his word, pounding their chest with gauntleted hands.


    “We hear and obey!” They cried.


    The people of Avignon looked askance at their display, but held their tongues.


    “Ignore what that false priest said. My house paid for this church, and your forefathers laid the stone. This is your house, one you were meant to share with god. None are more worthy of his protection than you. Now, Arlet, can you lead a party through the town, I fear there may be survivors we missed.” Said Liam.


    A look passed between them, with Arlet silently questioning what he should do with the beasts he encountered. Liam had only one answer. “Cull the enemy now while we have the strength in Avignon.”


    A vicious smile pulled at Arlet’s cheeks, the unrequited joy of battlelust running hot within his veins. With that, he strode through the church, gathering a kill team of ten men. In a moment they were gone, and the cries of dying hounds quickly reached the church. With noises of surprise echoing through the church as children watched Arlet ply his trade. A dozen shouted in surprise when the champion threw his spear through two hellhounds, piercing lungs.


    Who would have guessed, Arlet really enjoys killing things. I guess that makes sense, he is a champion after all, murder is exercise, another day at work, and slaying monsters is a new challenge for him to overcome. Hold up, wait just a moment! Is that why Arlet followed Green this whole time? Just because he knew the dog would pick fights and Arlet could kill for him? Green’s memories tried to refute the claim, only to admit that his assumption was probably correct, though not the only reason why Arlet followed him, just a substantial perk.


    Beside Liam, Rhendal frowned contemplating how he was going to portal a dozen chests of gold back to Greenhaven. Whilst Liam examined the church. The interior of the building was pristine, as clean as the day it was built. Three floors of multi-tiered seating rose within the building, offering more seats than the village could have filled at their peak.


    You could fit a thousand pilgrims inside this church. Then defend it with a hundred, and we have a few dozen. Damn that priest, and Blackwood, both of them!


    “Hey Rhendal, I should have asked, but can you take the women and children to Greenhaven?”


    “I can move a few each day, Though that would reduce how much gold or food I can move to Greenhaven. If that is my only task each day, we could move four or five people between locations. I would recommend only three, then they can bring some of their possessions. Tis a hard thing to abandon your entire life. A few pounds of home, anything really, be it your mother''s blanket, or father''s dagger, any trinket really, to remind them of their homes and families would ease their transition.” Answered Rhendal.


    “There is a subcommander who came with us, Sir Lyon, he can stay here with the other two knights. Three men isn’t much…” Said Liam.


    "A single knight is worth five of my men. They are more than we have my lord.” Said Pascal.


    If we had a single mage then Avignon could have become a bastion of strength, instead it is another leech. Bleeding our army. I’ll have to count on Greenhaven’s walls for a little longer, ah, this is awful! I’m forced to risk everyone’s lives for a gamble.


    A wave of Rhendal’s hand dismissed Pascal, and shooed away the other bystanders.


    “You have salvaged one of your cities, what of the people of Petra and Sintra. I can sense many portals in those regions.” Asked Rhendal.


    I completely forgot about them! Sintra has a wooden wall and a port, they should be able to hold their own… Petra is just a farming community, easy pickings for monsters; and when Petra falls, Sintra starves. Which left Kesky as an outlier. The smallest town in the Barony, but the most distant as well. We''ll have to march from Sintra to Kesky, assuming forces can be raised from there.


    “Petra will be our next stop, they shall reinforce Sintra, who shall then gather forces to relieve Kesky.”


    “A prudent plan. Lord Liam, but I wonder, do you intend to leave Greenhaven without knights or your protection?” Asked Rhendal.


    “We have to gather our strength before our people are cut down in their fields. If you can only portal three, then send Arlet to keep the peace in Greenhaven.”


    “Ahem, very well… If we wait until evening I will have the power to send Arlet to Greenhaven, and us three to Sintra.”


    “Arlet is going to hate that order…” Said Liam.


    “But he will obey.” Said Rhendal.


    "Let us hope time spent with his wife will temper his wrath."


    Arlet did indeed obey, but only after they agreed to spend the night in Avignon, resting and recharging their mana. The next morning Liam held Nyota’s hand, reluctant to leave the lost souls of Avignon but knowing it was foolish to linger in a town that would soon be evacuated. Six wagons sat empty in front of the cathedral; what few horses they had been able to save were already inside the church. Safe from midnight hunters.


    With some luck, Avignon’s survivors might be able to aid Mont St Michel, a single suture to halt Greenwood’s hemorrhaging. Now it was time to see which other villages were lost, and which might still be saved.


    With Priest Sebestian’s staff in one hand and Nyota firmly in his other, Liam entered the portal, Rhendal hot on their heels.