《Halcyon》


 Prologue

    Matthew wiped beads of sweat from his brow as the man behind the desk flipped through pages and pages of thick parchment, bound haphazardly by twine. The man had a practiced stoicism. His eyes barely moved as they scanned the text. He had been in this position before. Matthew looked away for a moment, glancing at the pile of nicknacks arranged around the surface of the man¡¯s desk.


    A glass statuette.


    The key to some city he had never heard of.


    A fancy rock.


    Garbage. All of it.


    The man finally looked up from the document. ¡°Mr. Carpenter, your ledger is¡­¡± the man paused while he used his thumb to flip the corner of the page, ¡°...extensive. And most of this property has been destroyed, ruined, or otherwise rendered completely useless beyond the capacity outlined when these funds were loaned to you.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± Matt muttered, his nerves causing his voice to quiver. ¡°It was never my fault. You see-¡±


    ¡°It says on the first page here to be wary of your excuses.¡±


    ¡°Honestly, sir,¡± Matthew urged. ¡°The farm near Hoodsholm was sacked by bandits. We had nowhere to go. We found a place to stay at The Throne-¡±


    ¡°So you took a new mortgage despite sitting on a bandit-ravaged farm plot?¡± the banker asked.


    Matthew looked down sheepishly.


    ¡°Then the apartment in The Throne suffered water damage. So you took out another loan for repairs,¡± the banker glanced through the paperwork again to make sure his remarks were accurate. ¡°But then you moved to Academy City? I wonder, how was it you got there?¡±


    ¡°I had a friend in a caravan. But corsairs hit us halfway there,¡± Matthew explained. ¡°The money that was meant to help us settle down went to making sure we would all be able to survive the trip.¡±


    The banker chuckled, ¡°but what about the apartment''s water damage?¡±


    ¡°The Church taxed us heavily for the damage done to the streets. Even though it was their sewage system that flooded our place.¡±


    ¡°Mr. Carpenter,¡± the man said dismissively, ¡°it has been several years since your first outstanding payment notice. I honestly don¡¯t understand how you managed to swindle more money out of the banks after that. You are completely irresponsible and totally untrustworthy. Frankly, I feel bad for dear Mrs. Carpenter.¡±


    That set Matthew off. ¡°She trusts me!¡± he said, suddenly finding the confidence that had escaped him when his file was revealed minutes before, at the start of their sit-down.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you have some sort of redeeming quality somewhere in there,¡± the banker said, grinning with satisfaction that he had found a weakness. ¡°But it is surely not your financial acumen. This history you have of poor decisions and your penchant for putting yourself in such great volumes of debt to governments, friends, and institutions is counter-intuitive to any sort of family you would want to support.¡± The banker sat back and folded his hands. ¡°Your father must be disappointed.¡±


    Matthew¡¯s chair crashed to the floor as he leapt to his feet. The banker eyed his lazily patched wool pants with haughty judgment. ¡°Do not ever talk about my father!¡± he roared, crumpling his thin cloth hat in his rage-clenched fists.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    The banker laughed as he looked down at the ledger, pleased with the damage he had done. ¡°Well, it¡¯s quite obvious, really, that I won¡¯t be seeing my money today, correct me if I¡¯m wrong.¡±


    The rage subsided, if only for a moment, as Matthew processed the condescension. ¡°I, uh-¡±


    The banker laughed again, but louder, as Matthew felt hot tears well up in his eyes. ¡°How about an extra month, Matthew? Does that sound fair? Because, to be honest, it is not fair for me. I¡¯m losing a fantastic amount of money on you, your family, your failed ventures, and your nigh-criminal escapades. You have a month to make something appear in my coffers or I will be sending collectors. And,¡± the man stood, holding a hand out to shake Matthew¡¯s, ¡°my promises actually mean something.¡±


    Matthew frowned and stared at the open hand for a short eon, tension neither easing, nor growing. ¡°Fine.¡± Matthew left the office without shaking the hand to find Kaitlyn sitting on a small wooden bench in the hall outside.


    ¡°Matty,¡± she whispered, putting her hand on his back for consolation.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine, it¡¯s fine.¡±


    ¡°He had no right to treat you like that, Matty. No right at all.¡±


    ¡°I said I am fine.¡±


    ¡°Matty¡± she urged, bending toward the floor for a moment. She ran her hand through the rugged wooden planks of the counting house floor, somehow scooping a handful of the wood out. ¡°He disrespected you, dear, and you can not stand for that,¡± she crooned, holding the fist toward him. Her words sounded less in his ears and more in his thoughts. It was as if she knew what he felt and was manifesting it for him. The chunk of floor she had scooped up began to glow and shift until it had transformed into a churning orb of lava. ¡°Let me help you.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Matthew said, finding the orb difficult to look away from. ¡°That isn¡¯t necessary, Kaitlyn. It''s all been my fault, anyway. He was right. About all of it.¡±


    ¡°Matthew,¡± Kaitlyn mewed. Her voice found his ears, and his thoughts, again. Whether it came from her or the space around her, Matthew could not tell, but it was loud this time. As if the sounds now knew the paths to take inside his head to get to the part of his mind where they would be heard the clearest. ¡°Take it. Equip yourself. We can make our own way, Matthew.¡±


    He watched the lava churn and glow and heard the shuffle of papers inside the banker¡¯s office. He looked up to see Kaitlyn smiling, a strange and predatory smile. It was an expression he could never imagine her face capable of making, but one that looked as if it had been just below the surface all along. Matthew held out his hand.


    The lava was thick, heavier than it appeared, and with a tangible surface tension that prevented it from dripping between his fingers. Most strangely, though, was that the lava was cold. Kaitlyn gave him an encouraging nod, that ferocious grin never leaving for a second, as he walked into the banker¡¯s office.


    ¡°Mr. Carpenter,¡± the banker said as he looked up from his cluttered desk, ¡°are you here to bring me my geld or more excuses?¡± He leaned back in his padded chair, crossing his arms with a smug smile.


    Matthew handled the lava for a moment before tearing it into two halves, one for each hand.


    With a crash, Matthew dove over the desk, sending the banker¡¯s baubles clattering to the floor. One of the chair¡¯s legs gave way with the force of the tackle and the two men hit the office¡¯s generously sized rug with a thud. The banker let out one meager scream before Matthew smashed one fistful of magma between his eyes.


    There was an unsatisfyingly brief moment of resistance and then the man¡¯s skull gave way. Matthew¡¯s fist plunged into the floor, the lava cooling.


    As he was hollowing out the banker¡¯s skull, Matthew had pressed his other hand into the man¡¯s sternum. If he had collided with heart or lungs, he never knew, though he suspected the moneylender had no heart to begin with. Kaitlyn¡¯s gift destroyed the banker without abandon.


    Matthew woke suddenly, but oddly calm.


    ¡°Matty,¡± Kaitlyn said softly from the tent¡¯s opening, her curly brown hair glowing with morning sunlight. ¡°Are you up?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m up, Kait,¡± he said, looking at her hand and feeling a pang of disappointment when he only saw a wooden turner.


    ¡°I cracked some eggs out here,¡± she said gesturing with the turner. ¡°Are you hungry?¡±


    Matthew nodded and Kaitlyn responded with a smile. ¡°Hey,¡± he called as she ducked out of the tent. ¡°After breakfast,¡± Matthew paused, finding himself nervous. ¡°Can you show me some of your magic again?¡±


    ¡°Of course, Matty.¡±

 Bleedingheart - Scene I

    A light breeze blew across the rolling, grassy hills to either side of a cobbled road that moved through the grasslands of the March. To the north were the foothills before the mountains and the city of The Throne. The cobblestone roads maintained by the Church of the Will spread out in all directions across the March, leading to the different towns and settlements for the men and women of all walks of life on the continent of Talnor.


    At the flatter, southern end of the March, an older paladin and his young apprentice were strolling leisurely. A small settlement was beginning to drift into view on the horizon.


    ¡°That is Elmsmith, no?¡± the younger paladin asked, pausing a moment to shift the leather pack he had over his shoulder.


    ¡°It is,¡± the elder said with a nod, giving his charge a moment. ¡°It won¡¯t be much longer.¡±


    ¡°Great,¡± the younger paladin said with a grin. ¡°It is pretty hard to believe I am about to finally begin my examination.¡±


    ¡°The Will has been on your side it seems,¡± the older paladin laughed.


    ¡°I¡¯m not so sure. Sister Tabitha was quite the nightmare.¡±


    ¡°Samson!¡± he said sharply between pangs of laughter. ¡°She has been working in the academy longer than you¡¯ve been a dream in your mother¡¯s heart!¡±


    ¡°Oh, I know,¡± Samson said, nodding and laughing. ¡°She is a wonderful Sister of the Will, but I feel bad for anyone who has to call her mom.¡± The two laughed, but a somberness fell over them as the laughter died off.


    ¡°The exam is coming up, though, Samson,¡± the older paladin warned. ¡°And while it will not be difficult, it is how we judge our trainee¡¯s abilities and skills. It is very important.¡±


    ¡°I understand, Sergeant. I am ready.¡±


    ¡°Your confidence will take you far, my boy.¡±


    ¡°My mom used to say that all the time.¡± Samson looked down with nostalgia. ¡°That was what she said to me just before I left.¡±


    ¡°Do you keep those words in your pockets, Sam? I¡¯ve lost count of how many times I¡¯ve heard them,¡± the Sergeant scolded playfully. ¡°But, not every son has the wherewithal to respect the Dreamer¡¯s Will. Many boys and girls, even some of your academy classmates, I assume, would have gladly spent life in a mansion over a suit of armor.¡±


    ¡°I wish it had been my faith that brought me to the Abbey, Sergeant.¡± Samson made his best attempt at pomp, facetiously turning his nose up. ¡°But I had nothing at home. Nothing meaningful, at least. Honestly, the Abbey was giving me a chance to become something.¡±


    ¡°Respectable in its own way, Sam. As I said, comfort without responsibility is the ideal for most mortals,¡± the Sergeant said with a grin. ¡°Speaks well to you that you sought your own responsibility.¡±


    ¡°Well, what about you Sergeant? I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever asked you this, but why did you go to the Abbey?¡±


    ¡°I also felt I had few places to go,¡± the Sergeant said. ¡°My family was large by necessity. Farmers, you know. By the time baby Enoch had been born, the house was pretty much full.¡± The sergeant chuckled at the memories. ¡°When a priestess from the Church said something to my mother about how she noticed the Will about me, my parents urged me out the door, but let it be noted,¡± Sergeant Boldbounty turned to look Samson in the eye. ¡°I did not argue.¡±


    ¡°I never knew your family were farmers.¡±


    ¡°I am very proud of that. And the Abbey named me with that in mind. Enoch Boldbounty,¡± the sergeant said his full name and title with a glowing pride. Samson could not help but admire the man.


    What a name! Samson had dreams, and frankly, nightmares about his graduation, the ceremony that would officially see his recognition as a paladin. When prospective students reach the Abbey, they arrive with nothing but the clothes they traveled in and their birth paperwork, which is promptly collected and put in the Abbey¡¯s catacombs, sealed away until the day the student is either removed from training, or far later, when the fully recognized paladin dies.


    Otherwise, the naming ceremony gives the paladin their name as recognized by the Will, with most names being given once and never again. Whole families have risen up or disappeared completely due to this tradition and Samson had a strange pride in that. Giving up one¡¯s surname seemed like the ultimate expression of faith. The ultimate acceptance of a calling.


    The two continued talking as they approached the village late in the morning. As they came upon the city¡¯s entrance, which rather than a gatehouse or wall, was simply denoted by sudden buildings, Boldbounty paused.


    ¡°Well, Sam, we¡¯ve arrived earlier than I had anticipated. Now, your exam will not officially begin until we cross into the city, so if you wish to, we can wait here until this afternoon.¡±


    Samson looked into the quiet town, its citizens milling about, barely noticing the two paladins in the road. ¡°I think I¡¯m ready. The earlier we start, the earlier we¡¯re done, after all.¡±


    Boldbounty smiled and pat Sam on the shoulder. ¡°That¡¯s my boy!¡± The sergeant squared his shoulders to take on his most stately posture and recite the verbatim introduction to the duty. ¡°Well, Brother Samson, welcome to your final examination as a Paladin of the Vanguard. Your examination will consist of completing a duty as assigned by the Office of Missions on The Throne. The duty has never been viewed before by any personnel outside of the Office of Missions. Your tools will consist of your hammer, shield, and anything improvised by yourself and those around you. All civilians and Church of the Will members will be available for consultation barring only your Examination Proctor, Sergeant Enoch Boldbounty. Brother Samson, are you ready to hear your duty?¡±


    ¡°Yes Sergeant!¡± Sam said sharply.


    Boldbounty reached into the leather messenger bag he had over his shoulder to remove a thick, tightly folded parchment with a purple wax seal from the Office of Missions. Only the name of the town was written on the outside. He broke the seal and read aloud.


    ¡°For your examination as a Paladin of the Vanguard you are to report to the town of Elmsmith. The town has seen periodic unrest amongst its youth, including unsightly congregation and unsolicited loitering, but not limited to looting, burning of gardens, and vandalism of public sites. Investigate the youths and discover their motivation so the Church of the Will may produce a plan to aid the good people of Elmsmith in preserving the peace of their home.¡±


    Boldbounty rolled the parchment into a tight cylinder and smiled. ¡°Alright, my boy! Good luck to you! I¡¯ll be around the town. Let me know if you need anything, but understand I can not help you complete your duty.¡±


    ¡°Understood, sergeant,¡± Samson said with a nod. He looked up into the winding cobbled streets of Elmsmith. No unsightly youths to be seen. Without another word he made his way into the town.


    Elmsmith was quaint, and quite beautiful. As if the community were planned and bound by rules, the windowsills of every home, shop, church, and storehouse was accented by large, deep flower beds spilling over with bright blooms of all sizes, shapes, and colors.


    The villagers were carrying on, unimpressed at the white armored young man wandering its streets. A baker propping goods onto a display table outside of her kitchen gave a bright ¡°good morning¡± as Sam walked past, and the proprietor of a small shop across the street urged Sam from his doorway to come in and buy something.


    Overwhelmed by the friendliness, Sam kept walking, but quickly caught himself. These people could definitely provide some insight. Meekly, he doubled back to the small shop owner and baker to get their attention.


    ¡°I knew you¡¯d buy something!¡± the shop owner said with a grin.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°Sorry, sir,¡± Sam said, shaking his head. ¡°I actually just had a question or two,¡± Sam said, nervously looking from the man to the woman, anxious that their chores would take their attention.


    ¡°What can we do for you, dear?¡± the baker asked with a bright smile.


    ¡°I have been told that the village youths are causing trouble, is this true?¡±


    ¡°Absolutely,¡± the shop owner said gruffly while the baker simply nodded. ¡°They¡¯ve been causing some trouble for sure.¡±


    ¡°It started off innocent enough,¡± the baker added. ¡°Boy or girl just getting mouthy. Nothing a good smack couldn¡¯t fix-¡±


    ¡°But!¡± the man interrupted, stepping out into the street. ¡°They started running  in packs. Like dogs. Breaking windows, stealing things, just being bullies.¡±


    ¡°Well, where are they now?¡±


    ¡°Who knows,¡± the baker said, shaking her head. ¡°I mean, hopefully being disciplined by their parents. But you can never expect when they¡¯ll get worked up again!¡±


    ¡°So, no pattern to who they bother?¡±


    ¡°Not that I can think of,¡± the shop owner said after pausing to remember. The baker murmured her agreement.


    ¡°Well I appreciate the help,¡± Samson said with a slight bow. ¡°I will see if I can assist you all with this inconvenience.¡±


    The shop owner let out a laugh. ¡°No worries, boy, but talk isn¡¯t cheap! Are you just gonna leave without buying?¡± Sam flushed. He had no money with him.


    ¡°Thomas, leave the boy to his work. He¡¯s on his duty,¡± the baker said, laughing. ¡°Gonna be a new Paladin this time tomorrow!¡±


    ¡°Here¡¯s to hoping,¡± Sam said with a shrug.


    ¡°Oh!¡± the shop owner said, genuinely impressed. ¡°Good luck to you then. Hit the hooligans with your hammer there for me.¡±


    ¡°Will do, sir!¡± Sam said, chuckling as he made his way down the street. Despite the friendliness of the two villagers, he did not really learn anything new.


    Further down was a banker whose home¡¯s windows were recently broken by a rowdy group of his son¡¯s friends, but his son, of course, was not involved in any way.


    Around the corner was a marketer that often chased people off her property, and she was certain that her neighbor¡¯s snotty daughter was the one getting her friends to mess up her gardening.


    A town guard had no idea why the youths would gather, but was exhausted by constantly being called to disperse them.


    Everyone was reacting to the strangely rowdy young men and women, but no one could tell him why the kids were acting out, nor did any parents wish to admit that their children were involved in the happenings.


    While musing and walking, though, he was suddenly shocked by the sound of splintering wood and a shout. Sam immediately began jogging down a nearby alley to the sound of the noise to emerge on the next street over. A small crowd had gathered around a modest storefront. An exasperated elderly man with a thick beard, bald head, and smock stained with all sorts of strange colors was bellowing at the building. A wooden sign reading ¡°Franklin Apothecary¡± was dangling over the door frame, but the door itself lay splintered in the street.


    ¡°Out! Out! Get out!¡± he roared from the gutter.


    ¡°Sir! Sir! What is happening!?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m being robbed!¡± the man cried. ¡°I¡¯m being robbed! Help me! The stuff in there! So dangerous, my man! Get them out!¡±


    Sam, without pausing, ran into the apothecary, focusing his mind as he did.


    He knew he needed strength and confidence if he was going to intimidate these robbers. His skin let off a soft glow and Sam felt his muscles swell under his armor. His white steel boots clattered across the wooden floor of the apothecary and the activity inside momentarily paused.


    ¡°Stop where you are!¡± Samson shouted, his voice unnaturally loud, accompanied by a soft concussion to the air, causing the various glass vials and bottles to rattle around the store. In front of him, three teenagers stood, looking like children caught with their hands on a dessert. Each of them was holding a crate or box of the apothecary¡¯s goods.


    The younger man in the group instantly began to panic, letting the crate he held fall to the floor. The flimsy wood cracked apart, spilling glass vials all over the floor as he ran out of the shop. One of the vials shattered, spilling its contents across the shop¡¯s wooden floor, releasing a pungent odor. The old man on the street barked threats and curses as the boy fled past.


    The girl in the group was too shocked to move any more than a slight tremble. Meanwhile, the third young man furrowed his brow and turned back to robbing the shop, stuffing bottles of brightly colored liquids into a crate padded with wool.


    ¡°Put the crate down and get out,¡± Sam ordered the girl. He spoke intentionally softly, the command rolling like distant thunder. Her eyes widened and she slowly put the box she held on a nearby table, but froze again. Her face twisted as the smell of the spilt chemicals continued to fill the room. Sam pulled his shield off of his back, and readied his warhammer. ¡°Get out!¡± he roared and the girl shrieked before running, narrowly avoiding a widening hole in the floor where the spill was eating away the wood.


    The third teenager was still busy stealing, twitching slightly at the sound of the paladin¡¯s commands, but otherwise unaffected. Adjusting the grip on his hammer, Samson approached the teen.


    ¡°You!¡± he yelled, thrusting the hammer at the thief. ¡°Put down the bottles, and look at me with your hands above your head.¡±


    The only response was the crystalline clink of bottles tapping against one another.


    ¡°I will not say it again!¡±


    Still no response, but the boy began to breathe heavily.


    ¡°Young man!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± the boy said, his voice trembling. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry.¡±


    The softness in the thief¡¯s voice was honestly a relief to Samson. He had chased off the other two kids without trouble, and was terrified he would have to get forceful. His muscles shrunk back down to normal and the pressure in his esophagus that strengthened his voice relieved.


    ¡°What are you doing in here?¡± Sam asked softly, lowering his weapons.


    ¡°We need the money,¡± the boy said quietly, his back to the paladin in training.


    ¡°Who?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry,¡± the boy repeated.


    ¡°Just turn around,¡± Sam urged. ¡°Put the box down and turn around.¡±


    There was a long silence before the boy softly muttered ¡°No.¡±


    Samson was taken aback by the defiance. After all, paladins were the definition of authority. Defiance was not tolerated. Though, he supposed, the kids in this village were out of control.


    ¡°Who are you, anyway?¡± the boy asked, his defiance gaining momentum very quickly. ¡°The Will doesn¡¯t even have a church here. What are you even doing here?¡±


    ¡°Put the box down, kid.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t call me kid,¡± the boy said flatly. ¡°You¡¯re what? Three years older than me? What does that mean?¡±


    Sam was starting to feel a tinge of panic. He did not want to hit the boy, but he was losing control of the situation quickly. Everything he had been taught told him to strike the teenager there and then, but he could not bring himself to do it. The boy had just been so apologetic. Where this aggression was coming from, Samson could not tell, but he knew it could not be his personality. ¡°P-p-put down the box,¡± he said, put off by the sound of his own voice trembling. He feverishly worked to steady himself, deciding to deliver a final line to prove he meant what he was saying. ¡°Or I¡¯ll kill you.¡±


    ¡°Get out of here!¡± the boy suddenly cried out. He slammed the crate down on the table he was stealing from and pivoted, a stoppered vial filled with a bright orange liquid clasped tightly in his hand.


    Samson began raising his shield, but there was not enough time. The boy reeled back and slung the vial as hard as he could. The glass exploded when it smashed into Samson¡¯s chest. The caustic smell of whatever chemical was inside struck his nostrils instantly.


    Samson¡¯s vision tunneled. He tried to look down at where the potion struck but he could not quite see it. Suddenly, there was pain worse than any he had ever imagined. The acidic liquid had eaten through his breastplate and padded shirt, and was now burning his bare chest. He tried to scream in pain, but only got a mouthful of the acrid fumes that burned his tongue and throat.


    The thieving boy looked at Samson in horror for a mere moment before grabbing the crate and running. As Sam¡¯s field of vision shrunk even further, he heard a familiar voice shout forcefully in the street outside the shop. Just before losing consciousness, he felt a tug on his shoulders and a sudden weightlessness. Then he was gone.

 Winters Daughter Scene I

    The people of the frozen wastes spoke little outside of their buildings. Strong winds roaring across the tundras and glaciers made it difficult to hear one another. As a result, ¡°wasted on the wind¡± became a commonly used phrase amongst the tribes of the wastes, and even as far down as the northern stretches of both Talnorel and Gavundar, for words that did not need speaking.


    As the midnight sun dipped as closely to the horizon as it would for the next month, the men and women of a small settlement shouted loudly enough that not a single syllable would be wasted.


    ¡°Children to the long house!¡±


    ¡°Fires. Out!¡±


    ¡°Shore up walls!¡±


    ¡°Weapons! Hold gate!¡±


    The instructions were short and to the point to ensure understanding and compliance. The figures running around the village giving and receiving the commands could not be discerned in any way. Intense musculature and layers and layers of fur coats and thick scarves hid age and gender. Meanwhile, everyone was both shouting orders and following them, making leadership impossible to pinpoint. The settlement was in a dangerous social position just before a calamity where everyone was taking responsibilities, but abandoning them as quickly as possible, their own panic was urging them to do everything and nothing at once.


    The town¡¯s wall was made of sand colored pine wood that had been dragged for days across the tundra, carved into spikes, and studded with blades before being lifted vertically to bulwark the settlement. The warriors were slamming additional logs onto the inside of the wall on either side of the gate where another team was running massive, spiked chains onto the cross boards to secure it the town¡¯s sole entrance.


    The several warriors toiling made the work go quickly, and once it was complete, the warriors then moved immediately to equip themselves. Huge metal hooks, barbed spears, and ball-headed warhammers were passed around as the mob massed at the gate.


    The wind continued to roar, the warriors¡¯ breath steaming and melting flakes of falling snow as they waited for the attack to begin.


    Then the snowflakes suddenly stopped moving. Despite the bitter wind, they did not move from left to right, nor did they fall to the ground. They simply hovered and the warriors eyed them with horror. One looked to her allies and muttered ¡°The Avalanche is here.¡±


    The already frigid temperature began to plummet as frost audibly crept across the massive chains on the gate, crackling and popping as fractal patterns grew across the steel, painting it a cobalt color. The warriors gripped their weapons till it hurt as they watched.


    The frost was sprinting toward the center of the chains from both ends of the gate. Just before the two fronts of frost on the metal met, the gate exploded inward with a sudden rush of frigid wind, splinters of wood, chips of steel, and shards of ice. The warriors were well protected under their coats and leathers, but the shock of the eruption flinched them anyway. The moment of confusion sealed their fates as the attackers rushed in.


    They were clad in leather armor padded with light colored bronze. Bronze helmets decorated with scrimshaw tusks, horns, or spikes gave them a monstrous visage, while the double-headed axes, claymores, and serrated hunting blades gave the beastly personages their claws. The attackers met the defenders with battlecries and splashes of blood.


    Behind the initial wave, the Avalanche strolled slowly into the settlement. Her only armored adornments were a dark colored, studded leather chestpiece. Otherwise, she wore thick woolen pants and fur boots. A fur lined cloak hung on her shoulders, and unlike her bloodthirsty allies, she went without a helmet. The woman¡¯s hair, so blonde it was nearly white and accented gently with light blue streaks, was intricately braided halfway down her back.


    While her army roared into the hovering snowflakes, stomped through the packed snow, and slashed through the defending townspeople, the Avalanche walked assuredly to the longhouse, one hand free, the other carrying a sharp woodcutting axe. One of the defenders came running at her, his sword overhead. She did not look in his direction at all as she waved her free hand toward him.


    The snow froze into solid ice just under his falling foot. The slick surface and change of height sent the defender crashing to the ground and before he could pull himself back up, another attacker was on him. The blood froze to the ice slick as soon as the splash fell and the Avalanche continued her approach to the longhouse, ignoring the agonized cries of the man she left for dead.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    A second defender ran up to intercept the Avalanche as she approached the central building. The woman was less forgiving this time. The defender let loose a great battlecry, hefting his warhammer high, and the Avalanche struck quickly and decisively with her axe. The battle cry became a gurgling scream of pain. The Avalanche withdrew her axe and the gore that followed the blade froze solid before it landed.


    Finally, she reached the longhouse with no more soon-to-be corpses in her way. The Avalanche reached out to its large door of strung-together planks and gave it a light push. The door swung silently on its counterweight and the sudden gust of air blew snowflakes from the ground into the large, open chamber. A firepit in the center was smouldering, but offering no light or heat.


    Before stepping into the longhouse, the Avalanche held up her open palm and blew a steamy breath. The moisture from her breath crystallized instantly, growing into a small gemstone-like cluster of ice. Her cobalt-colored eyes flashed slightly and the crystal began to glow bright enough to give the entire longhouse a soft, teal glow.


    Her eyes scanned the longhouse and fell suddenly on something at the far end of the fire pit. Her look of curiosity transformed to soft concern as she stepped into the building.


    ¡°Hello there,¡± she said softly. ¡°Is everyone okay?¡±


    The children huddled, shivering in horror. Their trembling rattled the manacles and shackles on their limbs and the chains that bound them to one another.


    ¡°Do you understand me?¡± the Avalanche asked as she came closer, stopping at the edge of the fire pit to ensure the children had ample distance. A few of the children nodded to her in response, fear still filling their eyes.


    ¡°Is anyone hurt?¡± she asked the group. A young boy in the front looked at the other children, then back to the Avalanche. After a concerned moment he shook his head no. ¡°Well then I¡¯m going to step around the fire pit and get you out of those chains, okay?¡±


    The boy paused for a long second again then nodded.


    ¡°How long have you been missing?¡± the Avalanche asked as she walked. While not breaking eye contact, she crouched down to set the glowing cluster of ice on the edge of the fire pit and hung her axe on her belt.


    The boy thought for a moment, then finally shrugged.


    ¡°Well, don¡¯t worry. We¡¯re here to help you all, okay?¡± The boy nodded again as the Avalanche held out her hand to the shackles. ¡°It will be a little cold, alright? Let me know if anything hurts, but I¡¯m sure you can tough it out.¡± She gave the boy a playful punch and he reflexively grinned and held his shackles up. Frost danced across the locking mechanisms of the shackles before there was a small pop and the shackles broke open.


    ¡°There! Cracking just like an egg, huh?¡± The boy looked up, his lip quivering and his eyes watering. Then, one by one, the other children came to the Avalanche, offering their bonds as well. One by one she broke the chains, opened the shackles, and undid the manacles.


    The Avalanche smiled as the children muttered their thank yous and began to tear up. One little girl who was among the first to be freed tapped her on the shoulder as she tended to another, younger girl.


    ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± she asked gently.


    The Avalanche grinned widely. ¡°I am Petra.¡± The younger girl went wide eyed as her shackles popped open.


    ¡°Winter¡¯s Daughter?¡± the little girl asked in awe.


    Petra responded simply by holding the frozen shackles up, and dropping them to the stone floor. The impact cracked the metal.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think you are,¡± the older girl said, arms on her hips.


    ¡°And why not?¡± Petra asked, mimicking the young lady¡¯s pose.


    ¡°Because I think you would have brought us presents if you were.¡±


    There was a chilly wind as the longhouse door opened again. Petra instantly pushed the older and younger girls behind her back, and laid a hand on an axe, but the man in the doorway was one of hers. He pulled his helmet off, eyes red and puffy with tears.


    ¡°Lana?¡± he called into the room.


    The younger girl shrieked with joy. ¡°Daddy!¡± she cried, sprinting across the empty room and gleefully springing into her father¡¯s open arms.


    Petra looked back at the other children to see the older girl, mouth agape. Petra winked and crossed to Lana¡¯s father. His daughter was sitting in the crook of his arm and nuzzling his beard, giggling.


    ¡°How is it outside?¡±


    The man sniffed back joyful tears, tussling his daughter¡¯s hair. ¡°A couple holdouts. They tried to set fire to the longhouse. That¡¯s how we found you in the fight.¡±


    ¡°Bastards,¡± Petra hissed. She turned to the children, projecting a whisper to them. ¡°Alright boys and girls. Can you do Petra a solid favor and stay here where it is safe?¡±


    The children all nodded and muttered affirmatives as she turned to the father again.


    ¡°Keep them safe, please,¡± she urged.


    ¡°As you wish, Ymirstotir.¡±


    She removed her axe from its loop on her belt, flicked a slushy glob of blood from the sharp edge, and pushed her way back out into the cold that only she could not feel.

 Bleedingheart Scene II

    Samson nervously sat on a luxurious sofa outside the chambers of the Father Abbot, the priest in charge of the paladins¡¯ training. The chambers¡¯ massive floor-to-ceiling double doors were shut in front of him, but he could just barely make out the conversation between the Father Abbot and Sergeant Boldbounty.


    It had been two weeks since Samson and the Sergeant arrived in Elmsmith. Two weeks since Samson interrupted the robbery of the village¡¯s apothecary. And two long, painful weeks since his interaction with a seventeen year old thief where Samson was splashed with a volatile chemical that nearly killed him.


    If Sergeant Boldbounty and the apothecary hadn¡¯t gotten to him when they did, Samson would be dead, but the old man was able to clean the chemical off, leaving the trainee with nothing worse than a ruined breastplate and a horrible tangle of scar tissue across his chest.


    He rested in Elmsmith for nearly eight days, trying to regain his strength and come to terms with what had happened.


    Although Boldbounty spent the entire trip back to the Abbey assuring Samson that no one fails their Duties and that everything would be fine, the paladin-in-training was not confident whatsoever. He had choked and embarrassed himself, needing to be dragged out of a bad situation by his arms.


    The days after they had returned were horribly painful, emotionally and physically, as he began his recovery in earnest. Samson watched his classmates all return from their Duties and eventually watched as they all prepared their armors for their naming ceremonies. His days were spent with healers teaching him stretches that unwound the traumatized muscles in his chest.


    All the while, the results of Samson¡¯s duty were passed further and further up through the Abbey¡¯s leadership since the situation was so unprecedented.


    And finally, the Father Abbot himself decided to weigh in on Samson¡¯s case, calling Sergeant Boldbounty and Sam both to his office. The Abbot urged Samson to wait outside while he discussed things with the duty proctor.


    After stewing nervously in the decorated waiting area, Sam finally heard the voices in the chambers grow closer to the door. He heard the Sergeant wish the Abbot a good evening before Boldbounty opened the door into the hallway. He made momentary eye contact with Sam, and though the young paladin tried as hard as he could, he could not glean any sort of emotion from the Sergeant.


    ¡°The Father Abbot would like to see you, Sam,¡± Boldbounty said plainly. Sam looked up worriedly, but Boldbounty¡¯s face did not change at all. Sam stood and walked toward the door Boldbounty was holding open for him, and once Sam was across the threshold, the Sergeant let the door fall closed and his departed steps rang heavily in the chamber.


    Sam listened to them get quieter as he paused in the chamber, frustrated. At the back of the room, the Father Abbot, adorned with the fanciful robes of an important priest, sat behind a large, beautiful desk. Two chairs were opposite him, with one empty, turned toward the priest, and the other turned toward the door. Sitting in the seat was Samson¡¯s ruined chest piece, the chair¡¯s velvet padding visible through the acid-burned hole in the metal. He looked at the armor piece for a moment before swallowing his pride and greeting the Abbot.


    ¡°Good evening, Father Abbot. You wished to speak with me?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Samson,¡± the priest said, gesturing to the empty seat. ¡°Please, take a seat. We have a lot to discuss.¡±


    ¡°About my duty,¡± Samson said with a frown as he lowered into the chair.


    ¡°That is correct,¡± the Abbot said glumly. ¡°What do you think about that situation, my boy?¡±


    ¡°I think that I failed my duty, Father.¡±


    The Abbot smiled and adjusted in his overstuffed chair. ¡°The duties we assign to our trainees are hand selected by the leadership of the school here. They are analyzed for danger to the trainee and risk to the church so that the trainee and the church¡¯s reputation will be safe.


    ¡°Your duty in Elmsmith was approved by abbey leaders and myself as being properly safe for trainee testing. Unfortunately, your little skirmish in the apothecary could not have been anticipated.


    ¡°We spent time talking with Boldbounty and the old man in addition to some of the other witnesses to the event and have had to make some determinations.¡±


    The Abbot slowly pushed his chair backward and rose to his feet, turning away from Samson to look out at the sun setting behind the rolling hills of the March.


    ¡°Now, as a Paladin of the Vanguard, you are expected to be the hammer of judgment for the Church of the Will. The shield that defends our name. To stand among the men and women who stand tall in the face of threats to the church.


    ¡°Your statement and witness remarks on your spat with the young man who attacked you all confirmed that the young man denounced the authority of the Will before he did. He also refused to listen to your commands and ignored your authority. Yet you hesitated to defend your faith.¡± The Abbot turned to look at Samson, whose face had tumbled into a heavy, embarrassed frown.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°Father, I did not perceive a threat,¡± he said softly, looking down. ¡°He was young and hesitant.¡±


    ¡°And yet we have this trophy,¡± the Abbot said, gesturing to the wounded armor. Samson¡¯s mood fell further. That explains why it was on display. ¡°So after discussing it, Samson,¡± the Abbot said, sinking back down into his chair. ¡°We have determined that you have failed your duty.¡±


    ¡°Father-¡±


    ¡°You failed to uphold the final statute of the Vanguard Oath; to always defend the authority of the Will.¡±


    Sam was devastated. He slumped into the uncomfortable seat, feeling dizzy. His dreams were shattering. All because he had hesitated. The scar on his chest tickled annoyingly as panic sunk in.


    ¡°Oh, cheer up, boy,¡± the father said, waiving Samson¡¯s concern off like a fly. ¡°This meeting is more than just the bad news. Sergeant Boldbounty has spoken very highly of you.


    ¡°As you know, he is one of the most trusted and successful paladins not just in the Abbey, but in the Church writ large, and to have him speak well of you is quite powerful. Despite being the first student in several generations to fail their duty, Boldbounty truly thinks you deserve the armor.¡±


    The Abbot looked at Samson, hoping that these remarks would lift the young man¡¯s mood, but Samson was still sullen, so the Abbot continued.


    ¡°We have determined that your abilities with the Will are indeed powerful and will be a boon to the Church. Just not as a Vanguard.


    ¡°You will be re-enrolled into the Abbey Curriculum as a Confidant. Your skills, paired with the compassion which you so readily show to those who do not seem to deserve it, prove that you are much better a fit for the school of the Confidants.¡± The Abbot looked at Samson, pride at the compromise.


    ¡°Father,¡± Samson began. This was so unsatisfying. Samson always wanted to carry the shield of the Vanguard. And with one misstep, he ruined it. But in the silence that pressed on the room, he thought about it.


    Would it be more embarrassing to re-enroll and become a Confidant? Or to return to the vault to recover his identity and return home a failure.


    ¡°Father, it would be an honor to be a Confidant of the Will.¡±


    The Abbot smiled warmly. ¡°That is wonderful to hear, Samson. Your paperwork has already been prepared, so first thing in the morning you will report to the Confidant¡¯s School Lead for your class assignment.¡± The Abbot rose and held out a hand to shake, signaling the end of the discussion.


    ¡°Thank you, Father Abbot, for your grace.¡±


    ¡°Not my grace, my boy. It is the Will of the Dreamer that you stay in the armor.¡± Samson forced a grateful smile, took one last look at the hole in the breastplate, and made his way to the door. ¡°Oh, Samson, you should thank the Sergeant,¡± the Abbot added.


    ¡°Yes, Father.¡±


    Samson made his way through the Abbey to the Instructor¡¯s Quarters where the brand new students were mopping and dusting in the light of freshly lit lamps, powered by magical glyphs of gold magic. The cleaners warmly greeted Samson as he made his way past them to Sergeant Boldbounty¡¯s quarters.


    Despite wearing the leisure uniform of a senior student, tomorrow he would be no better than those mop-water soaked recruits.


    ¡°Sergeant Boldbounty,¡± Samson called, knocking on the thick door of his proctor¡¯s room.


    ¡°Who is it?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s Samson, do you have a moment?¡±


    The mechanisms of the door rattled before Boldbounty opened it, smiling widely at Samson. He was clad head to toe in his gleaming ceremonial armor, a very strange choice for dusk, but before Samson could remark on it, Boldbounty spoke excitedly. ¡°So you got the good news!?¡±


    Samson forced a grin. ¡°I truly appreciate your help in earning me a second chance at the Abbey.¡±


    Boldbounty let out a loud laugh. ¡°Please, my boy. Loosen up.¡± He held the door open to invite Samson in. Once the trainee was inside, Boldbounty finished his thought. ¡°I know you don¡¯t want to be a Confidant, but they were steadfast in saying that you needed to be punished for embarrassing the church.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to, though.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I know!¡± the sergeant said. ¡°But it is all far over my rank.¡±


    ¡°I understand, Sergeant,¡± Samson looked down, but as he did, noticed the room was rather bare. In fact, the countless pictures of the Sergeant¡¯s family were nowhere to be found, and a stack of clothes sat folded next to an open case. ¡°Uh, why is it so empty?¡±


    Boldbounty¡¯s demeanor suddenly dulled. ¡°I have no idea how to say it softly, so I will just say it. I¡¯ve been transferred.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Samson was horrified. ¡°Did the Abbey not hand out enough punishments with just me?¡±


    ¡°Now now,¡± Boldbounty said, shaking his head. ¡°It is not your fault, Sam. Do not think like that. It will only make you bitter.¡±


    ¡°Make me bitter? I am already, Sergeant! I have to be a Confidant now, and then my mentor is not even going to be around?¡± Sam cried out, exasperated.  ¡°You love instructing!¡±


    ¡°I do, yes, but I am getting sent to Dawnbreak. I get to be with the Missus again and it will be fresh work. I will be in charge of some guards.¡± He leaned toward Sam and whispered ¡°they¡¯re saying there is a gnarly she-pirate causing the town trouble. It is good news, I promise.¡±


    ¡°But it¡¯s not,¡± Samson said, feeling the corners of his mouth drooping.


    ¡°I understand that it is a change,¡± Boldbounty said, his armor clanking as he shrugged. ¡°And I will miss working here, but it is the Will.¡±


    ¡°And all Will is well,¡± Samson added with a sigh. Finally he looked up. ¡°Do you need a hand with anything?¡±


    ¡°I would love some help carrying my things down to the door,¡± the Sergeant said with a smile. ¡°We should tell one of those little janitor kids to do it.¡±

 The Carpenter Scene I

    Matthew leisurely whittled at a bedpost as Kaitlyn used the rest of the cleaning water to put out the fire from breakfast.


    ¡°It looked fine an hour ago, Matt,¡± Kaitlyn said, chuckling.


    ¡°I just can not get it to look like the other three,¡± Matt said, holding the post out and turning it around before glancing at the cart filled with strategically placed furniture.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure your dad appreciates the effort, but could we just sell it a little cheaper? Budget bed posts?¡±


    Matt sighed. ¡°We will never be able to turn a profit on this stuff. I just brought too much with us.¡±


    ¡°Oh Matt.¡± Kaitlyn sat down beside her husband and rubbed his back. ¡°We¡¯ll make the sales, do not worry. We got so many offers in the last town. If people are that interested in a small farm town, just wait until we hit a real city!¡±


    Matthew sat silently, looking at the whittling knife blankly before a sound caught his attention. The couple¡¯s horse began to step side to side as the sounds of a rider approaching grew louder.


    Kaitlyn stood and squinted toward the morning sun to see a woman in white armor riding toward their modest camp. ¡°Looks like a paladin, dear.¡±


    ¡°What? Here?¡± Matthew tossed the bedpost onto the cart and stood to greet the rider who was beginning to slow as she approached. The woman took off her pot helm, her close-cut black hair glistening with sweat.


    ¡°Good morning, Sir and Ma¡¯am,¡± she said sternly. ¡°I noticed your cart of furniture. I must ask, are the two of you Matthew and Kaitlyn Carpenter?¡±


    Matthew started to open his mouth, ready to simply explain they were just trying to sell their wares and would be on their way, but was stopped by Kaitlyn¡¯s eager answer. ¡°Yes, we are,¡± she said, looking at her husband nervously.


    ¡°Is something wrong?¡± Matthew asked, his voice flat and stoic. A challenge rather than a question.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I have some bad news, Mr. Carpenter,¡± the paladin said, climbing down from her horse. ¡°I am Private Humble of the Eastern March Investigation Group, based out of the Crossroads Cathedral. We were called to your father¡¯s home earlier this week.¡±


    Kaitlyn looked nervously to her husband, who was simply staring at Humble, his gaze urging her to continue.


    ¡°Your father¡¯s home had been entered forcefully. Eye witnesses tipped us to it, and when we investigated, we found your father¡¯s body. I am very sorry, sir.¡±


    Kaitlyn gasped. ¡°I can¡¯t believe this, Matt.¡± Matthew simply stared.


    ¡°I am prepared to escort you and your wife back to your home to handle any affairs for your father you may have.¡±


    ¡°That will not be necessary,¡± Matthew said, turning to look at the smoldering fire.


    ¡°What?¡± Kaitlyn was dumbfounded. ¡°Matt, what are you saying?¡±


    ¡°It is no trouble, Mr. Carpenter,¡± Humble said. ¡°It is my duty and my pleasure.¡±


    ¡°It will be fine, Private Humble. The Church can handle his remains.¡±


    ¡°Matt, don¡¯t talk like that,¡± Kaitlyn said, reaching for Matt¡¯s shoulder, but the man shrugged it off. ¡°We should go back.¡±If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°Kait, we have all this furniture to sell. We have no money, we won¡¯t be able to make it all the way home.¡±


    ¡°The church will cover any expenses incurred,¡± Private Humble said, bowing slightly.


    ¡°That will not be necessary, Private,¡± Matt said, turning to glower at her. ¡°I am sorry you rode all the way out to us for nothing, but I appreciate you delivering the bad news to me.¡±


    ¡°Matt, stop it.¡± Kaitlyn was getting visibly frustrated with her husband¡¯s attitude. ¡°You are acting out.¡±


    ¡°Kaitlyn,¡± Matt said flatly. ¡°I am fine. Private,¡± he said, turning back to the young paladin. ¡°You are not needed anymore. Again, we appreciate your visit.¡± With that, Matt walked swiftly toward the furniture cart.


    Kaitlyn turned to the paladin and frowned. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry,¡± she said, in a way that clearly surrendered to Matthew¡¯s attitude.


    ¡°As I said, ma¡¯am,¡± Humble said, turning back to her horse. ¡°It is my duty.¡± The Paladin climbed back onto her horse and turned it away. ¡°Good luck, to you.¡± The paladin began to gallop away slowly, leaving the husband and wife to their own issues.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know why you did that, Matthew,¡± Kaitlyn reprimanded softly.


    ¡°Because we can not afford the trip.¡±


    ¡°But it is important. He¡¯s your father, Matthew. We would make it work.¡±


    ¡°He would be more happy if I sold his damned furniture,¡± Matthew grabbed the bedpost he had been working on all morning and threw it to the ground. It snapped in half, having been whittled too thin for any real use.


    ¡°Matt! What has gotten into you!?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t afford my own dad¡¯s funeral. That¡¯s what, Kaitlyn! And I shouldn¡¯t have to depend on the Church to help me bury him. I refuse to let them help put my father in the dirt!¡± Matthew shouted back.


    ¡°Well, if you had sold the stuff to all of those families that made us offers, we would have some money.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not my fault, Kaitlyn! It is not my fault we can¡¯t sell this garbage! It is useless and my father was useless!¡± Matthew¡¯s screaming came from nowhere, his spittle hitting Kaitlyn¡¯s face with every consonant. ¡°Just ask my mom in her unmarked grave outside of the town. She¡¯ll tell you all about it! That¡¯s of course assuming you can even find it.


    ¡°Just walk around out there shouting my father¡¯s name and listen for the sound of rolling! That will be your best bet.¡±


    Kaitlyn was dumbfounded. Flustered and embarrassed, she quelled her temper, which had eagerly attempted to match Matthew¡¯s, causing a tangible change to the temperature around the camp. When Matt noted the warmth and the beads of sweat forming on his forehead he wiped them away, but the heat caused a new wave of sweat to bead up almost immediately. He suddenly calmed.


    ¡°What are you doing, Kaitlyn?¡± he asked solemnly, controlling his temper with the precision of someone who is very angry very often.


    ¡°Sorry, I-¡± Kaitlyn said, averting her eyes as Matthew walked toward her, his large hands gripping her shoulders. ¡°I just got upset.¡±


    ¡°Please do not threaten me like that again.¡±


    ¡°Matt, you scared me, that¡¯s all. It wasn¡¯t a threat. I promise. I just lost control for a second.¡±


    ¡°You heard what I said, Kait.¡±


    The conversation was over.


    Kaitlyn strolled away, focusing on her emotions as she gathered her things from around the campsite. She pinged the non-living natural world around her to stop focusing on her hurt feelings from her husband¡¯s aggression. The dirt was nonplussed by everything to the point it was nearly stubborn. The stones were stubborn to the point they were nonplussed. The water she had poured onto the cooking fire was profoundly distressed at how suddenly exposed it was. Meanwhile, though the average person would not notice, a red magic user like Kaitlyn could feel the anger and fury, no matter how miniscule, from the hidden embers still in the fire pit, enraged that Kaitlyn had betrayed them. This exploration of feelings outside her own calmed Kaitlyn, but she was still distressed. Matt had gotten so angry, not just at the situation, but at her as well. She watched him as she gathered the last of her things.


    In silence, husband and wife packed their camp into the furniture-packed wagon and rode away. Kaitlyn noticed the gap between where she was sitting on the wagon and her husband. Barely the width of her palm, Kaitlyn felt the gap absolutely impassable. The minutes wore on, Kaitlyn watching the gap in the corner of her eye, heartbroken that such a silly thing made her feel so dreadful.


    But the wagon struck a small stone, jostling its riders. The couple bumped together in the middle of the bench. Kaitlyn¡¯s breath caught, expecting Matt to recoil from her, but when he moved the reins to one hand in order to put his arm around his wife, she felt peace once again.

 Bleedingheart Scene III

    ¡°Well,¡± Sergeant Stonewill said. Her lips were pursed so tightly, Sam wondered if a drink of water would be able to pass them. Her beak-like nose was turned down to the text printed across the scroll outlining Sam¡¯s examination. Sam knew the text was only a handful of lines, yet the Sergeant¡¯s eyes scrolled left-to-right time and time again as she worked to find something to critique like she had so many times before.


    Yet, his Duty had been simple. Resolve a dispute between two neighbors in the town just outside the Abbey¡¯s campus about where a goat was feeding. Sam felt ridiculous wearing ceremonial paladin training armor while building a goat pen with an old man as his ferocious neighbor watched from her porch, but the job was done with a note of thanks written by both parties involved.


    ¡°I suppose your duty was successful,¡± Sergeant Stonewill remarked, silver eyes narrowing on Sam as she rolled the scroll back up, tucking it and the notes of thanks in her leather sack. ¡°Congratulations, Samson. You¡¯ve finally passed your examination.¡±


    The proctor paused for effect, but Sam felt nothing. This was hardly what he wanted at all. The classes for the Confidants had awakened a greater appreciation for the art of remediation and Will-based healing and support, but a small buckler strapped to his arm and hammer at his hip seemed better fit for the goat pen construction than for any sort of righteous conflict. Not to mention that he had been able to test out of most of the Confidant program with knowledge he had obtained as a Vanguard in training. What was to be a two year advanced program was wrapped up in eight months.


    Meanwhile, his Proctor stared on, her beady eyes jabbing in Sam¡¯s direction, expecting some form of relief or glee. But Sergeant Stonewill was possibly the hardest person on The March to get along with, so any remark taken from her was devalued as soon as it left her mouth.


    ¡°Thank you, Sergeant,¡± Sam said finally. ¡°I¡¯m honored.¡±


    ¡°Well, you should not be,¡± she snapped in response, her trap finally sprung. ¡°Your appointment is not finalized until your Naming Ceremony.¡± Stonewill moved her sack over her shoulder and began walking down the road back to the Abbey. Sam grimaced and began to follow.


    ---


    That night Sam was in his dormitory, a large brick-and-mortar room comfortably furnished with large velvet chairs and two large beds hidden behind paper screens for him and his roommate, who was currently on his own examination trip to a significantly further locale than the Abbey¡¯s own back yard. Sam was heating a small square of hardened clay using gold magic, holding the block in his hand and using the stone to  rub the wrinkles out of his dress-clothes for the Naming Ceremony. It had suddenly been scheduled for the next morning. Rumors creeped around the Abbey that an emergency order for a Confidant was waiting to be filled. Luck of the draw, Sam supposed. At the very least, the Abbot wanted Sam pushed through the graduation process as soon as possible, which the troubled trainee appreciated.


    Sam held his pearl colored undershirt up to the mirror to check for any hidden wrinkles, but found himself distracted. The ragged orange scarred skin left from his last examination could barely be seen over the v-necked collar of the uniform nightshirts the Abbey provided. Sam pulled down on the collar with a finger and winced. Despite seeing the scar over his heart all the time it still caught him off guard in the mirror. It looked as though a jagged splotch on his skin had begun to melt before being suddenly reconstituted. To say it was anything less than horrific would be a lie. Sam shook his head, overcoming the distraction, and looked back to the shirt.


    In just a handful of hours his dream of being a Paladin of the Will would be coming true. The white silk shirt was beautifully tailored, and Sam had taken immaculate care of it in hopes for this ceremony. The padded dark grey cloth pants were on the table beside him, and were just as clean.


    The trainee had always received perfect marks for clothing and armor inspections, and once even earned a lunch on Sister Tabitha¡¯s tab because she had been so impressed at his care for his uniforms. And now he actually had good reason to wear them. The frustrations or ennui toward his completed duty from earlier in the day were evaporating away, giving way to genuine excitement as the ceremony approached.


    For the first time, Sam thought about how he had been at the Academy since he was twelve years old, barring a handful of holiday trips home or short visits. Since his mother, tears in her eyes, hugged him before her Paladin friend from childhood escorted him away.


    Eight years ago his dad, a skinny and gaunt man, squatted down to look him in the eyes and tell his son how proud he was. Now Sam was looking like a stronger man than his father.


    He smiled to himself in the mirror as he thought of his family and as he imagined that he was finally moving on from what was supposed to be a temporary home.


    ---


    The next morning Sam stood alone atop the altar of the Confidant¡¯s Chapel. He was dressed impressively in the ceremonial uniform and standing, arms behind his back, beside a large oaken trunk. A gaggle of new trainees and available instructors sat in the pews in front of him. The significant and decorative chapel was adorned with all of the ornamentation you would expect from the Church of the Will: stained glass windows, marble statues, extravagant woodwork, and candelabras and braziers of brightly polished brass. Orbs of magical glyph light gleamed from the arms of a massive, beautiful chandelier on the ceiling, casting a soft yellow light on the chapel.


    Sam noted the various statues. One was a woman holding a thick book, said to be an interpreter of law. Another was of a man holding out a heel of bread as an agent of generosity. In fact, only one of the statues showed anything close to combat. In the back corner, a woman held her hammer down by her side and her shield up over her heart. Combat was the confidant¡¯s final option, and even then, it was a tool of preservation and defense for those who may not defend themselves.


    His gaze stayed on the statue, unable to shift away. This was not the chapel he had hoped to be named in. But maybe it was what he needed. Perhaps the Confidants were his calling. It was the Will of Gessel, the Dreamer, after all, and the Dreamer¡¯s Will is well.


    The double doors in the back of the chapel opened smoothly and quietly and one of the young intern priests stepped inside, a large key in his hands. ¡°Ladies and gentlemen, the Father Abbot is arrived.¡±Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    The old man followed the priest intern into the room, and the intern slid the door shut behind him.


    ¡°The Will has done a great deal of good to bring us into this holy chamber today,¡± the Abbot said as he walked toward the altar. There were murmurs of affirmation from around the room as the Father Abbot took a position off the altar and in front of Sam.


    ¡°The Confidant. A discipline of calculation. It calls on one to stop, to see situations as they are, and most importantly, deescalate. The Confidant is the sign that we live in a world of peace and civility, for if it is only the Vanguard who can solve a problem, then the time for discussion, the time for peaceful resolution is passed.


    ¡°That is not to say that the Confidant is without martial skill. He is trained to wield the tools of the paladin with as much skill as needed to readily defend the needy, himself, and most importantly, the Will when necessary.¡±


    The Abbot turned from the audience to look at Sam as the intern priest moved to unlock the chest. ¡°Samson, you have a unique perspective. You have received training in both the ways of the Vanguard and the Confidant. As such, you know what the Vanguards must do to carry out the Will. And you know, too, what the Confidant can do to lessen the pain borne by us all. I am sure that you will take lessons you learned from not only these two schools, but from all across this Abbey with you as you go out into the world to face whatever darkness awaits. Are you ready to be named?¡±


    ¡°I am, Father Abbot,¡± Sam replied, his heart fluttering.


    ¡°Brother Franklin, the armor please.¡± The intern reached into the chest, removing boots, gauntlets, and bracers as another priest from the front row of the pews stepped up to help equip Samson.


    ¡°Now,¡± the Abbot said to the audience as Sam was armored. ¡°Samson is a special student, and as such, I have decided to provide him a special prize at his Naming Ceremony.¡± The Abbot turned with a wide, genuine smile as Brother Franklin reached into the chest for the breast plate. When he emerged, every muscle in Sam¡¯s body contracted to keep him from gasping.


    Hot tears welled in the lower half of his eye as he watched the priest approach with the breastplate. He tried not to make eye contact with the Father Abbot, who eagerly sought Sam¡¯s approval for the gift.


    The audience pointed and whispered to one another as the armor was fitted on and the Abbot moved to the final portion of the ceremony.


    ¡°Brothers and Sisters, the Sleeper¡¯s Will has been realized today, for our brother, Samson Bleedingheart has become recognized as a Confidant of the Will.¡±


    The audience cheered, but Samson felt no pride. He was embarrassed. He stood, breathing heavily at the front of the chapel wearing the same breastplate he wore the day he had failed his first examination.


    The acid-burned scar in the center of the metal had been expertly repaired with gleaming bronze, reinforced on the inside with an extra layer of steel. The handiwork was brilliant.


    But it forced Sam to relive his failures. And the name? Bleedingheart? Was it a joke?


    This was it? What was to be the happiest, proudest day of Samson¡¯s life had been reduced to a painful coda of his worst.


    He was too upset to focus on the rest of the ceremony, and before Sam knew it, the audience were approaching him one at a time to shake his hand and congratulate Mister Bleedingheart on his name. He forced a smile, nodded, accepted the thanks which came in such well meaning, yet offensive words such as ¡°it must feel good to finally make it¡± or ¡°I didn¡¯t think you would make a good Vanguard anyway.¡±


    Sam was sure none of the people in the chapel were doing this on purpose but it made little difference. Finally, the Father Abbot approached.


    ¡°Samson, I¡¯m so glad to have named you today,¡± the priest said, patting the new paladin on his shoulder.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad to finally be here,¡± Sam responded, finding it difficult to even force a smile. So he gave up, hoping his stern look could pass for an overwhelmed stoicism.


    ¡°Well, my boy,¡± the Father said quietly. ¡°I¡¯d like to talk to you in my office before the day closes. There is an assignment that needs immediate attention and the Confidants are stretched thin. My door is open.¡±


    As the Abbot was escorted out of the Chapel by Brother Franklin, Sam felt a sudden, but flimsy positivity. Despite the hurtful name, he was going to get out of the Abbey.


    ---


    Sam slowed his day down, assuming a political stance for his meeting with the Abbot. He ate a light lunch, rested in one of the common rooms, and leafed through some books in the library down the corridor from the Abbot¡¯s chamber, all in his armor from the ceremony. When he finally felt enough time had passed to not seem desperate to descend the Abbey stairs for the final time, he stood and made his way back to the Abbot¡¯s massive doors.


    The gauntlet¡¯s gave the knock an echoing heft that impressed Sam with how well it echoed up and down the corridor. After just a moment, the Abbot himself opened the door.


    ¡°Samson, it is about time you arrived,¡± he said grimly, holding the door open to allow the new paladin to sidle into the large office again.


    ¡°I apologize, Father,¡± Sam said, making his way toward the desk, making sure not to sit until offered a seat. His days under Sergeant Stonewill¡¯s command had once again ignited his awareness of courtesy.


    ¡°Nothing to apologize for now,¡± the Abbot said, shuffling past Sam and sitting back at the desk. He had a large parchment folded tightly sitting in the center of the space. ¡°You¡¯re here and that is key. We need to discuss this opportunity. It is impressive, but the responsibility is heavy.¡±


    ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°A public figure is speaking against the Church of the Will in the Back City of The Throne. The Church has specifically requested someone with cultural familiarity with the city in order to help and you are the closest we can get.¡±


    ¡°The Back City?¡± Sam repeated. ¡°But that was miles from my home.¡±


    ¡°The closest we can get,¡± the Abbot said again. ¡°If you accept this chance to help protect your home, Sam, you will be meritoriously promoted to Corporal. You will operating under the immediate purview of the Back City Commandant, who reports immediately to the Council on the Throne.¡± As the Abbot spoke, he unfolded the document and pointed to the large blocks of pressed print outlining the benefits of the job.


    Sam noted the Abbot¡¯s loaded words, but his mind leapt at the chance to see his family again. ¡°I don¡¯t know what to say, Father.¡±


    ¡°You will say yes,¡± the Abbot responded sternly. His shift in demeanor was jarring. ¡°This window is closing quickly, Sam. There is a reason we moved your ceremony so early. A reason we gave you a Duty within walking distance, and a reason we allowed the hastening of your training. The Council on the Throne is waiting for an answer, and has been for months, but we can only move the curriculum around so much.¡±


    ¡°Wait, these were favors for the Council?¡±


    ¡°No Sam, they were responses to orders from the Council. Your home is full of princes or paupers and nothing between so recruitment has been slow. The Council asked for you, and they will get you. Sign here.¡± The Father Abbot said, picking a quill pen from out of an inkwell on the desk and holding it out to Samson over a thick black line on the bottom of the document.


    ¡°Father, I still don¡¯t understand. This is happening very quickly.¡±


    ¡°I envy your ignorance, Private Bleedingheart, but on my end this has been a slow and grueling process filled with a letter per day demanding when their new Paladin be en route. So please sign. Your promotion will be effective immediately.¡±


    Sam swallowed his confusion and forced himself to think of seeing his parents, his sister, his old home once again. He gripped the quill pen and signed his name.


    ¡°Thank you, Sam,¡± the Father said, waving his hand to dry the ink before folding it up again. ¡°I apologize for the harsh words, but the words I get are harsher, I assure you.¡± The old man explained his plight as he affixed a wax seal to the outside of the document.


    ¡°Apology accepted, Father. I appreciate the opportunity to once again see my family.¡±


    ¡°Glad to hear it, Corporal. Let Franklin or the other intern priests know if you need any help gathering your things. The Will be well to you.¡±

 Tides Mistress Scene I

    ¡°For you, my Lady,¡± the sailor said, handing a ceramic mug of steaming, murky tea to the ship¡¯s Captain. She stood on the forecastle of a beautiful three-mast ship, gazing out at a sea so calm that the crescent moon and stars were reflecting on its surface.


    The woman did not look away from the horizon as she gingerly gripped the mug and lifted it to her lips. The sip was as ginger as the grip. After a split second of flavor, the woman began to cough,  spilling the mug¡¯s contents.


    ¡°This tastes like Chael¡¯s piss,¡± the Captain said, wiping her mouth with her coat¡¯s sleeve.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, ma¡¯am,¡± the sailor said with a sigh. ¡°Should I brew another cup?¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s okay,¡± the captain replied softly. ¡°I¡¯ll be alright.¡± As she spoke, a sheer wind cut across the still sea. The wool coat, worn thin by ocean weather, did little to hold back the cold.


    ¡°But your lips are blue.¡±


    ¡°I know, I know,¡± she said, shivering. ¡°Thank you, though.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think she¡¯s coming this way again. It is a big ocean, my Lady.¡±


    ¡°I have it on good word that Scott is in the area. The witch will sink tonight. My intelligence has not been bad yet.¡±


    ¡°A first time for everything, Captain.¡±


    Not for him, Zora Dimitova thought. The Laughing Buccaneer had not failed them yet. But she could not shake the feeling of something dreadful below. A life on a merchant vessel and a career at sea and Zora had had always felt a shadow in the abyss below her. But in recent years, the shadow began to surface. Moments of unease of melancholy that would creep up when she spent too much time looking out at the ocean had been replaced by nightmares and hallucinations.


    A leviathan shadow slicing through the depths. Its bulbous eyeballs, large as the sun, peer at her from below. A maw, large and deep beyond comprehension, sends the water around her ship¡¯s hull churning and foaming. The acrid stench of death and decay filling the air around her doomed ship.


    Then, a thunderous roar and the splintering of wood and the ship is consumed. And despite the cacophony, Zora can hear her crew, shrieking in horror, cursing their captain, as they are consumed. And that was the worst part.


    What began as nightmares to be ignored became daydreams, and now waking hallucinations from time to time. During a battle on the sea, the crash of the waves would become that colossal roar, imbuing Zora with enough adrenaline to lead a three-man boarding party onto an enemy ship. A harbor with an open and safe pier, a reward for months of time underway, would morph before her eyes into the mouth of that mighty creature. She would order them to turn away from the harbor and go back to sea for weeks.


    Targets that Zora would normally ignore were harassed at the behest of those terrible sensations. Ships she would just board for supplies before sending them on their way would be fed to the beast to spare her crew, but the chase continued.


    And so Zora appealed higher. The god of the sea would surely have answers, but the fool offered no advice about the monster. His penchant for battles and huge treasure pulls would interrupt the captain any time she tried to confide in the god about her fears. He would only help her feed the beast. So Zora resigned herself to the only treatment she had found to be effective. Thus she became the most feared corsair the March had ever known.


    ¡°Captain! Light on the horizon!¡± The shout came from the crow¡¯s nest  and instantly brought Zora to attention. She squinted out into the darkness looking for the light of a ship.


    ¡°A light?¡± the same sailor who had offered Zora the tea remarked incredulously. ¡°Why would she have a light?¡±


    ¡°I know, Johnston,¡± Zora responded, her eyes catching a slight flicker. Her ship had not lit a lantern above decks in days to dodge the enemy. ¡°If it is her then she¡¯s a bigger idiot than I had thought.¡±


    ¡°So we¡¯re going to fight her?¡± Johnston asked.


    Zora responded with a grunt; the signature introduction to a tirade. ¡°The witch wants to come all the way over here and fly her flag? She will pay for it. If Dawnbreak Harbor burns, it will be by my own cannon. Not by some floozy from Gavundar who can¡¯t be bothered to snuff her flames because it gets a little chilly. Scott thinks the winds are cold? Just wait till she feels the sea.¡±


    ¡°And that¡¯s what I like to hear,¡± came a sudden voice that washed over the two sailors.


    ¡°Late as usual,¡± Zora said, not taking her eyes off of the flickering light. ¡°What kind of scout shows up after the target is spotted by the front line?¡±


    ¡°Scout? Excuse me?¡± the man asked, scowling as he removed his leather tricorn, flicking droplets of water from it. Despite the dark of the night, the man was completely visible, lit by a cyan glow. He was clad in classical naval dress with a dark blue high collar waistcoat adorned with gilding and gold thread. ¡°I am not an employee of the Scourge of Dawnbreak.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah. Could you grab me that telescope, Tidus?¡± Zora said, looking away to give the man an exaggerated pout.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Grab it yourself, wench!¡± Tidus barked. Zora somehow redoubled the pouting effort and Tidus roared, snatching the telescope from the nearby metal rings that secured it to the deck.


    Zora enjoyed the company of the sea god. He kept her mind off of the shadows and was as good a sport as any of her shipmates. He could, despite his ascendant position, take her worst attitudes and listen to her best ideas. The Laughing Buccaneer could never pass as trustworthy, but was at least something like a friend. For that reason, he definitely fit in amongst the ship¡¯s motley. Not to mention how young he made her feel.


    ¡°Do me a favor Johnston and grab the colors,¡± Zora said as she raised the telescope to her eye.


    ¡°Y-y-yes ma¡¯am,¡± Johnston stuttered, looking at the avatar of the sea god standing on the deck of the ship.


    ¡°So, is it her?¡± Tidus asked as Zora squinted through the apparatus.


    ¡°Aye, it¡¯s the Marble Bear alright. That¡¯s Scott and the moron¡¯s alone.¡±


    ¡°Why thank you Tidus, mighty master of the seas, the Laughing Buccaneer. The powerful lord of the currents.¡± The sea god theatrically gestured as he ran down a list of titles, some real. Most not.


    ¡°Did you sink the rest of her fleet?¡± Zora asked, still watching the approaching ship.


    ¡°No. They never got underway. Scott¡¯s truly alone right now.¡±


    ¡°So, you only provided me the intelligence you said you would bring me?¡± Zora asked, taking the telescope down to look Tidus in the eye.


    ¡°You said to let you know when the Marble Bear approached.¡±


    ¡°I did. Have you heard me thank my crew for doing the bare minimum?¡± Zora smiled wickedly as her game dawned on the god.


    Tidus groaned. ¡°You walk a dangerous line, Dimitova! Cross me and this ship would be sunk in the blink of an eye!¡±


    Zora widened her eyes, blinking dramatically at Tidus, who roared in frustration. Zora looked down the deck of her ship. ¡°Johnston! Are you ready?¡± she cried into the darkness.


    ¡°Aye my Lady!¡±


    ¡°Hoist the colors, pass the word, then take the helm!¡± Zora shouted. As the sounds of the crew scrambling around the deck reached the forecastle, Zora winked at Tidus.


    The god shot back a sly smile, smoothly stepping up onto the gunwale. ¡°Fair winds, Lady Zora. The Dreaded Scott shall taste the brine tonight!¡± Tidus took a step forward and dove into the sea. There was no sign of a splash as the crew got to work wheeling Zora¡¯s cannon into position.


    The captain looked back to the main mast and watched her colors raised. The flag was a gift from a renegade priestess of the Will. It was a velvet-black cloth made unique with a Will-enchanted lightning bolt design that crossed over its center. In the darkness, the bolts shined a color somewhere between white and blue, and gave off enough light to allow safe passage across the deck below.


    Once the flag was in place, Zora looked to the port and starboard. Her two escort ships had raised their copies of the frightful standard, casting enough light to give the glossy surface of the ocean a brilliant blue glare.


    The sign had been shown and Zora Dimitova¡¯s small ambush fleet dropped their sails at once and began to approach the Marble Bear.


    Zora looked to the east to see the dull purple of the coming sunrise. ¡°Alright, boys!¡± she called, channeling just a tinge of magic so that the brisk wind would carry her voice to her other vessels. ¡°The sun is rising, so if we want the Buccaneer''s help tonight, we¡¯ll have to make it fast!¡±


    The crew gave a raucous cheer in response as Zora¡¯s eyes honed on her prize. ¡°Not that we¡¯ll need it!¡± she added, and the crew cheered again.


    The thrum of distant cannon shot cut the cheers short. The shots splashed a ways off the bows of Zora¡¯s ships. The shots were not for effect, but to let Zora know that her aggression would be answered. The crew of all three of Zora¡¯s ships moved into action as Zora glided amidships.


    ¡°Johnston, formation three!¡±


    ¡°Aye, my Lady!¡± the first mate responded, and flicked his wrist. A ball of green fire ignited in his palm with a pop and he threw it high into the air off the stern of the ship.


    Immediately, the two escorts pulled ahead of the main ship. They opened wider to either side as the Marble Bear continued to advance into its enemies. The vessel focused on Zora¡¯s ship itself, and seemed to not notice the escorts.


    When the Marble Bear finally noticed the pincer, it was too late. They attempted to turn toward Zora¡¯s ship to more quickly pass by the escorts, but the winds were not favorable to the movement. Zora had made sure of that. A strong, but icy gust summoned directly into her sails by the captain had turned her ships into waterborne bullets. With her red magic, the ships were traveling at least twice as fast as they could normally be counted on.


    The two escort ships loosed their cannon on the Marble Bear simultaneously. Closer now to combat, the cannonfire became aggressive and strident cracks were punctuated by the splintering of planks. Scott attempted to fire back on her attackers, but her crew had not readjusted aim for the closer targets. Her shots soared just over the decks of the pincer formation. A mistake that would cost her.


    ¡°I¡¯m ready!¡± Zora cried to her first mate as the ship rapidly closed the gap with the now wounded enemy vessel.


    Johnston responded by initiating a wide turn, opening to the starboard before making a trembling turn to the port. Zora herself was now facing toward the Marble Bear.


    As the target approached Zora stabilized her excited breath. The straining groan of the turn echoed in her mind. She let imagination run. The groan became the hunger pangs of that colossal beast beneath the waves. The fear welled up beneath her and she let it. Her heart rate quickened, but she forced her breath to remain slow. Finally, a spark leapt off of her pointer finger. She smiled, shelving the dread of that monster below as she raised her hand, fingers trembling, to point at the main mast of the Marble Bear.


    The crash of thunder was deafening on the deck of Zora¡¯s ship as a bolt of blue lightning leapt from her fingertips. It charged through the air, and smashed into the mast. The screams of Scott¡¯s crew were music to Zora¡¯s ears as the main sail of the Marble Bear erupted into flames. The shock of the lightning strike even threw a handful of sailors into the water.


    ¡°Breakfast time,¡± Zora said with a murderous grin that was truly just a mask for the relief she felt. This blood would hold the beast at bay for a while longer. Immediately, the sounds of the naval battle were drowned out by the mad laughter of a god.


    A pillar of churning water rose up behind the Marble Bear, eliciting screams from the enemy vessel. The vortex pillar rose higher and higher until it was twice the height of the pirate ship before collapsing across its stern.


    For Zora, the sound of the ship being ripped apart by the force of the ocean god¡¯s attack blended seamlessly with the satisfied roar of the beast of her nightmares.


    She watched, her grin fading, as fire spread across the weather deck of the Marble Bear and it began to sink, stern first. Day broke to the cheers of Zora¡¯s crews, reveling in their easy victory.


    ¡°We did it my Lady,¡± Johnston called from the helm.


    ¡°That we did,¡± the Captain replied as she crossed to him, hurrying to ensure there was a wicked smile scrawled across her face. ¡°The wench has two more ships we get to sink, too.¡±

 Bleedingheart Scene IV

    A church sanctioned a caravan out of the Abbey to a travel hub town, to a merchant troop that happened to have an empty spot in their covered wagons between crates. That led to a chicken monger moving live cargo northward. Unfortunately for Sam, that was the longest arrangement he had made. It took him all the way to the gate of The Throne. All of these vehicles and the inn and hotel rooms that broke them up over several nights were all painfully traded for the wave of a gold slip of paper indicating that the Church would, one day, pay these people back.


    And while most of the golden slips were accepted with smiles and praises, there were a few where the offering party squinted, studied the sheet of parchment, dwelled on the idea for a handful of miniature lifetimes, then nodded to Sam and snatched the golden slip.


    The chicken keeper was part of the former party, which proved to be a mixed blessing. The farmer urged Sam to sit in the front of the cart, and he proceeded to tell and endless chain of intertwining stories. On the first day of their travels, these stories were fascinating anecdotes from a time and place Sam had had no contact with, but on day two, the stories revealed themselves to simply be pastiches of ¡°went to this city, sold this product, until this event, when we moved to this city.¡± And on day three, the stories began to repeat.


    ¡°That¡¯s about the time that the Wrath Liches showed up, though, and me and the missus had to pack up and move all the way to Duskfall. The Church of the Will wanted to offer help in moving, but the Verdant had shown up, too, and demanded their assistance since the Liches were closing in. So we got one paladin and a handful of gold and were sent on our way,¡±


    ¡°Not to blame the Church or anything!¡± the man said, genuinely. This was the third time he had mentioned the Wrath Liches during their trip, and he still watched his tongue when he got to this part of the story. ¡°It was a rough time for all of us, you know?¡±


    ¡°Only barely,¡± Sam replied with courtesy. ¡°I only heard about Dorvan during my schooling.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a lucky boy, then. Rough days! Rough days. Luckily, everyone in the country needs eggs. Even those bookworms in Duskfall. So, there we were on the road West¡­¡±


    And that was that! Sam had given the driver his unimportant two cents and the story picked back up and Sam let his mind wander again. The young paladin had been away from the Throne for nearly six years now. He had not seen his family at all, and barely shared a letter with anyone but his older sister.


    He felt a mixture of excitement and anxiety about seeing them all again. Six years is a long time, and just in reading her writings, he could tell his sibling had matured and changed quite a bit. And his younger sister? Mother? Father? Would they even recognize each other? The stress caused the scar on his chest to tingle, as if a number of spiders scrambled across the knotted, discolored flesh over his heart. The sensation reminded Sam that he, too, had changed a lot. Reflexively, Sam rubbed his scar over his shirt. The pins and needles feeling did not abate.


    The only place Sam had no anxiety was in his excitement to see how The Throne had changed. It seemed that no matter the season, no matter the day, something within the city¡¯s vaulted tunnels and soaring parapets was clad in scaffolding, artisans scrambling about like worker bees tending to their hive, literally changing the face of the mountain metropolis with every strike of their mallets. The culture would have to have changed as well. The nomad parties of Kraag¡¯s Host that drift in and out of the Upper March would have massive impacts on the way daily life was run in the city. Shopping stalls, food carts, clothing, and snacks would all be brought in the atriums and open spaces of The Throne and no matter if the nomads stayed for a week or a year, something of theirs would be left behind. The women would wear their scarves in a new way, or the men would start wearing a new style of hat, or a new spice would become a grocery staple. The Throne was a boiling and churning stew of the March¡¯s cultures and Sam missed that so much in the uniformity and uptight cultural sanitation of the Abbey.


    ¡°But it was just too loud for the baby in Crossroads, there,¡± the farmer said. ¡°But- Ah, wait a second! There she is!¡± He nodded up ahead of the cart, far down the winding road.


    On the horizon, the purple shades of distant mountains that had been growing more and more opaque against the sky were getting detailed as they approached, and in the center, immediately down the road, was a closer mountain than the rest, oddly shaped when compared to the stout crags all around them.


    When Sam saw his hometown, the anxiety dried and crumbled away. It took all the self control he had to keep from yelping with glee as the Throne slowly took shape with every turn of the cart¡¯s wheels.


    ¡°Such a beautiful city, The Throne is!¡± the farmer said, grinning when he saw Sam¡¯s smile. ¡°Impressive, eh? You ever seen it before?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m from there,¡± Sam replied with a nod.


    ¡°Oh! Lucky man, getting duty at home!¡±


    ¡°Yessir,¡± Sam said, the excitement bubbling up more and more.


    ¡°You know I¡¯m from a little town in the south west parts of the grasslands,¡± the farmer began, turning the clock back twelve whole hours on his story telling. Sam could not mind, though, as his attention was completely focused on the growing shape of the Throne.


    It could not have been long before the grander details of the Throne came into focus on the horizon. Formerly a singular, lone mountain peak thrusting out of the rippling foothills miles out from the mountain range proper, The Throne had been shaped over ages of magical and architectural efforts into a massive chair. Seated atop it were the remains of the avatar of Gessel, the deity of civilization and the Dreamer whose Will the Church stands to enforce.


    During the days the avatar was filled with Gessel¡¯s spark of life, the Dreamer traveled across the grasslands. He visited tribes of mortals and helped them create wonderful cities and societies and used his mighty strength to lay low the forces of chaos and lawlessness. The lands stomped flat by the colossal god¡¯s footfalls came to be called the Holy March, and at the end of the avatar¡¯s time on this plane, he strode to the lone mountain. The stones, weathered and worn by the elements, became the avatar¡¯s resting place.


    So the Church of the Will got to work, shaping the mountain beneath the avatar, which, without Gessel¡¯s spark, turned to stone just barely different from the stones of the mountain itself, into a throne fitting the Lord of Society.


    Grand, gold-roofed towers, cavernous common areas filled with shops and restaurants, massive corridors with living quarters and apartments, and in the center of it all is the one corridor that goes to the avatar¡¯s body, which was built into the Cathedral of the Will, the seat of the church¡¯s highest powers. A jewel of mortal ingenuity that even the people from the empires across the sea marvel at.


    Sam was finally getting the chance to go home and see it all first hand once again.


    Despite the city coming into view for the first time early in the morning, it was early evening when they finally arrived at the gates. They may have been able to arrive earlier if the traffic on the path had been lighter. Just on the road itself, it was the biggest crowd Sam had seen since he began training at the Abbey. The cart of clucking livestock trundled up toward the shear eastern face of the Throne which was fashioned into the city¡¯s main entrance, the primary path leading first toward the city¡¯s south face then gently curve around to the side allowing visitors the chance to marvel at the still vaguely humanoid shape of the avatar¡¯s former body.


    The gate was named so only in its function as an entrance to the city, for there were no doors in the world large enough to close the massive entrance into the Throne¡¯s prime atrium. Paladins in pristine armor stood at regular intervals across the gate, controlling the flow of people in and out of the city. Despite the sun quickly setting, the gate was still rather crowded.


    ¡°Uh, could we pass one of those guards kind of slowly?¡± Sam asked as they approached.


    ¡°Of course, friend!¡±


    The cart wheeled toward the gate, the farmed pulling lightly on the reins to slow the horse¡¯s trot.


    ¡°Welcome to the Throne, gentlemen,¡± the nearest guard said, smiling under his bucket-helm.


    ¡°Thank you very much,¡± Sam responded. ¡°I am Corporal Bleedingheart and I¡¯m to check in for duty in the Back City.¡±


    ¡°Ah, welcome, Corporal. Yes, for you, you¡¯ll want to go to the Back City Mission. They are open all hours, so even if you get there late tonight someone should be able to welcome you.¡±


    ¡°Great, thank you,¡± Sam said, sitting back against the cart¡¯s seat. He was disappointed. The Back City was so far away from his home that there was no chance he would be able to continue living in his own bedroom. It would take him the entire day to commute to and from the mission if that were the case. But at least he was in the same part of the continent as his family now.


    His optimism was validated as the farmer continued their forward roll into the prime atrium. The floor was polished and painted with a massive mural of a bursting star, mirrored from the ceiling by a huge chandelier of cut precious stones that sparkled and glinted, refracting the light of a massive burning shining glyph kept alight magically in its center. The glares and flashes of light danced across the atrium¡¯s three massive levels, each crowded with night market activity, with massive corridors splintering off to all of the different areas of the semi-subterranean city.


    People of all walks of life as described by their lavish clothing, or lack thereof, scurried to and fro, clambering aboard mechanical lifts to the upper levels or onto transit carts, wooden boards detailing the circuit that the cart would carry its passengers on throughout the city.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    The sheer amount of activity was refreshing to Sam. He forgot how much he missed the vibrancy of the city¡¯s life. ¡°So, where will you be headed, sir?¡± Sam asked his driver.


    ¡°Oh, I have an inn set up on the far side of the atrium here,¡± the man said, gesturing as a cart approached ahead of them, its wooden board reading ¡°Back City.¡± ¡°Where do you need to go, Sam?¡±


    ¡°This will be fine, sir. Thank you! And remember, just present that slip to a bank of the church!¡± Sam hopped from the cart and hurried to the back as the transit cart began to load its new passengers.


    ¡°Do you need a hand there?¡± the farmer asked as Sam worked to pull his equipment trunk from amidst the poultry in the back, grimacing as the paladin noticed the volume of chicken droppings that had fallen onto the chest.


    ¡°No thank you,¡± Sam grunted as he tried to maneuver the box without putting his hand in any still-wet droppings. ¡°I truly appreciate everything you¡¯ve done for me, sir. Good luck to you!¡±


    ¡°And to you, boy!¡±


    Sam hurried to the transit cart, smiling as the farmer waved and continued down the atrium.


    ¡°Back City,¡± the cart¡¯s driver said with an unenthusiastic nod as Sam tried to push his trunk on.


    ¡°Yes, thank you!¡± Sam replied before climbing on himself. With a deep breath, he took a look at his fellow passengers, then with a guilty twinge of pity, remembered what life in the Back City meant.


    Clothing worn thin by age, moth eaten in places, dreadfully in need of replacement, rested on the shoulders of even the most well-off of the passengers, though all of them looked like they could use a more frequent meal. While none of them looked exceptionally morose, there was no questioning the transit cart had a slightly more dreary atmosphere than the rest of the atrium.


    The Back City was formerly a sort of tent village that the vagabonds had set up in the shade of the Throne. These men and women did all they could to eak out a survival in the shadows of the God of Society, selling trinkets or snacks to the architects and guards, offering to clean the atriums in the late night, or working as cooks or butlers in the homes of the nobility.


    Eventually the tent village took root. The tents were replaced by wooden shacks. The shacks to houses. But the quality of life never improved. The chilly clime of life in the Throne¡¯s shadow kept it as a more unsavory place to live compared to inside the city, so prices for homes in Back City stayed low. The Throne¡¯s homes prices stayed high. And lower income individuals were thus relegated to the Back City. It was no small wonder why people would be protesting the Church of the Will, whose members live amongst the wealthy inside the Throne¡¯s stone walls. But Sam would definitely have to learn to get used to it.


    A long and thin tunnel served as the only method to reach the Back City from inside the Throne without exiting and going all the way around. The tunnel was barely wide enough for two carts, and several times, the transit cart would come to a complete stop so it could finagle its way past oncoming traffic.


    Dimly lit by the flicker of glyph lamps, the long tunnel was drab, grim, and stunk lightly of mildew and the smell of pooling mana. Weary from so long on the road and the emotional excitement of the morning paired harshly with the atmosphere and the silence of the passengers in the cart to soundly destroy Sam¡¯s good mood.


    With no end in sight of the tunnel, Sam was feeling his deepest regrets. He looked down with a guilty envy for the men and women dragging their feet through the tunnel as they walked back toward the cheerful and brightly lit atriums. Here he was going further from the warmth and happiness, and into the cold and the unrest. Into a workplace he had no point of reference for, and into his first days of true self-dependence.


    What a nightmare.


    Just as the dismal thoughts began to grow unbearable, the tunnel came to an end. There was a blast of fresh air as the cart broke free and Sam gulped it down as hard as he could. The other passengers¡¯ reactions were unnoticeable if they even existed. Some of them looked as though they could have died on the ride and there would have been no change in appearance.


    Despite the tunnel¡¯s ceiling no longer looming overhead, the close stucco walls of Back City¡¯s buildings were only a slight relief to the narrow passage, and with rough, rusted iron glyph lamps lining the way, and the Throne blocking the moonlight, the Back City was no brighter than the tunnel was.


    Sam had never spent much time in the Back City at his mother¡¯s urging. It was a notoriously dangerous area if the rumors could be believed, and at the very least, was a chore to travel to and from. Sam was trying his best to remain objective about the area, but the despaired looks of the men and women in the streets and in the cart with him made it hard for him to stay positive.


    ¡°We¡¯re coming up on Mission Square, ladies and gents,¡± the driver muttered, just barely loud enough to be heard. The other passengers began to gather their things as the street began to widen on either side. The driver grabbed a small line of twine by his side and tugged it, causing the wooden sign to flip to read ¡°Prime Atrium.¡± The flicker of jealousy returned.


    But it was squelched when Sam saw the Back City Mission. It was larger and cleaner than the other buildings, well lit, to boot. It looked just as warm and welcoming as any of the buildings on the Abbey¡¯s campus. As the cart came to a stop, Sam grabbed his trunk and pulled it, with effort, down to the cobblestones, frowning with frustration when the trunk plopped into a puddle of unknown contents. Doing his best to avoid the chicken droppings and puddle¡¯s liquid, Sam pulled his trunk up the stairs that led to the mission¡¯s front door. He pushed it open, triggering the jingle of a small bell hanging from the frame.


    The lobby of the mission was extremely welcoming. A small foyer led to a welcome desk, and off to the left was a lounge with huge overstuffed chairs and a presumably magicked fireplace.To the right was a heavy door that, Sam guessed, led to the Church¡¯s offices. A bored looking, lanky paladin with heavy bags under his eyes was sitting behind the counter immediately ahead looking up from a book with a forced smile. ¡°What can I do for you, sir?¡±


    ¡°I am,¡± Sam said, digging into his trousers pocket for his orders from the church. ¡°I am Samson Bleedingheart. I¡¯ve been ordered to the mission here.¡±


    ¡°Thought so,¡± the young paladin said, his smiling growing genuine. ¡°I could tell from your ugly mug that you don¡¯t live here.¡±


    Sam was taken off guard by the strange comment and was at a loss for words.


    ¡°Settle down there, contender,¡± he said, standing up and grabbing a pen from the inkwell on the counter. ¡°I¡¯m just fooling around. Can I see your duty assignment documents please?¡±


    Sam passed the paladin the orders and continued looking around. Everything seemed so comfortable. ¡°How long have you been here for?¡±


    ¡°Oh, a few years. From Wesfield so it¡¯s a bit of a change. Where are you from?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m from inside the Throne, actually,¡± Sam said, unsure of how the news would be received.


    ¡°Oh great! Welcome home! You¡¯ll have to tell me where the good food is inside. Every time I go in there I end up getting the same things to eat. Touristy stuff, too. Nothing exceptional. Whelp, all done!¡± The paladin passed the documents back to Sam. ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯re tired. I¡¯ll take you to an empty bunk room and we¡¯ll figure out where the Captain wants you to stay when he comes back in,¡± the paladin looked over his shoulder at a calendar stamped onto a large sheet hanging on the wall. ¡°In four days.¡±


    ¡°That would be wonderful,¡± Sam said, yawning as though cued. ¡°But what will I do until then?¡±


    ¡°I mean, I¡¯ll ask the sergeant in the morning, but we usually don¡¯t get too busy when the Captain¡¯s not here.¡±


    ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a responsibility thing, I think. Things can be kind of high-pressure back here. Don¡¯t worry though. I¡¯m sure you¡¯re used to the stress of city life.¡± The paladin grabbed a ring of brass keys from a hook under the desk on his side and moved toward the exit of the welcome area. ¡°Just go through that door and I¡¯ll walk you to your bunk, Corporal Bleedingheart.¡±


    Sam, his confidence brought back from the kindness of this young man, followed him to the empty bunk room, at least two times bigger than his Abbey room, and with no sign of a second occupant. There was just a twin bed and a writing desk made out of unstained wood. The room had a small half window that was strangely looking out to a solid stone wall. Still, Sam was so tired he would have just as soon accepted the sofa in the lobby.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be at the front desk until dawn, so just shout if you need anything,¡± the paladin said, holding out his hand. ¡°Corporal Shiner, by the way.¡±


    ¡°Nice to meet you, Corporal,¡± Sam said, shaking his hand, and pushing his trunk into the room with his foot. ¡°Have a good night.¡±


    ¡°You, too! And again, welcome.¡±


    The corporal went back down the hall to the mission¡¯s entrance, and Sam laid himself down on top of the bed¡¯s tightly made sheets and while he tried to think about what he was going to need to do in the morning, he fell asleep in a matter of minutes.


    ¡°Uh, Corporal Bleedingheart?¡± Corporal Shiner¡¯s voice was muffled by the door, but Sam¡¯s sleep in the unfamiliar bed was light and uncomfortable enough to be stirred. He pulled himself up to greet his new coworker with a groggy ¡°good morning.¡±


    ¡°I just got relieved at the desk and I was thinking I should help you get some breakfast before you wake up late and totally confused.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I really appreciate that.¡± Sam had not even thought about eating, but now that food had been brought up, the hunger pangs made themselves felt.


    ¡°Yeah, I showed up before the Mission¡¯s day of rest and they completely forgot me. I had a can of raisins to eat for two days. Anyway, I¡¯ll be out in the lobby when you¡¯re ready to go, friend.¡±


    After a few short minutes of getting himself organized, Corporal Shiner and Sam were sitting together in plainclothes in a small cafe on the other side of the Mission Square. ¡°Madge makes the best scones,¡± Shiner said, slinging a ceramic plate to Sam, a dense, triangular pastry sitting in its center. ¡°I hope you like apples?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s great, thanks,¡± Sam said, taking in the sights. The cafe¡¯s decoration could only be described as cluttered, countless frames on the walls up to the ceilings bumped into, and at times, overlapped one another, each one containing sketches of famous patrons who may or may not have visited the eatery, or dazzling landscapes from around Kraagheim, while shelves filled with dusty books available for borrowing lined the walls below. Dimly lit and scented overwhelmingly by coffee grounds, the cafe felt like the home of a mother¡¯s dearest friend.


    Shiner loudly slurped coffee from his mug after turning it golden with cream and sugar. ¡°So, what do you think?¡±


    Sam, suddenly brought back from reverie, lifted the scone up and took a bite. The crisp crust and dense, toasty inside tasted brightly of fresh apples and almonds. It was a delightful first meal in the Back City. ¡°It¡¯s great,¡± Sam said, impressed.


    ¡°Great! The coffee¡¯s not, so sorry about that!¡±


    Sam laughed and looked down at his mug. Shiner pushed the carafe of cream toward his friend. ¡°Oh, no thank you,¡± Sam responded.


    ¡°Oh, you are going to need it.¡±


    Sam acquiesced and splashed cream into his mug. Shiner¡¯s friendship was an immense relief to the young Corporal. After a day of exhausted travel through parts of his city that had always been taboo, Sam had been in a grim mood, but the sweet scone and good company were brightening his demeanor.

 The Carpenter Scene II

    Kaitlyn had been sleeping much better over the past few months. Despite the bad news from Private Humble and the ensuing argument that had been, Kait and Matt had been closer than they had since their wedding. They had even made some sales since the fight. The tension and stress of the road, Kaitlyn assumed, had just needed to be expressed, was all.


    Growing up with her nomadic family, Kaitlyn was always told that outbursts like that were forbidden. Your family and travel companions were too valuable to blow up at or isolate with harsh words. But for Matthew? The regular loss of temper was almost necessary for him.


    The furniture sales had been a mixed blessing. Despite Kait¡¯s protests, he turned the profit on obtaining more wood to carve even more products, but at least furniture had been moving. Four different towns and a handful of trades with caravans had raised Matt¡¯s confidence.


    On one night however, it was not the clatter or shouting outside the tent that woke Kait, but the pungent, stinging odor of smoke. When she finally registered just what she was smelling, she sat up with a start. Matt was already dashing for the tent¡¯s entrance.


    ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡± Kait whispered after him, but Matt did not slow, his bare feet kicking up dirt as he tripped out into the night. Kait scrambled after him, and still sleepy-eyed, she looked around trying to register what she was seeing, smelling, and hearing.


    Outside the tent, the furniture cart was empty. Kait¡¯s horse was missing. The earth was turned up and tossed around in front of the tent, and the furniture was thrown haphazardly into a pile with smoldering embers flickering around different parts of the pile, giving off clouds of smoke as the flames tried to catch. Three men in clean, but dark colored clothes were standing with their backs to the pile, their cruel eyes and sly grins falling on Matt and Kait.


    ¡°What are you doing!?¡± Matt shouted as he tried to comprehend what he was looking at.


    ¡°Matt, your dad didn¡¯t have a dime to his name, boy,¡± the middle man said flatly.


    ¡°So you came here to get yourselves paid off!?¡± Matt shouted, his voice cracking. Something that only happened very rarely, and only when Matt was afraid. As soon as she heard it, Kait became tense.


    ¡°Business is business, Matthew.¡± There was a pop from within the pile as one of the embers caught and flashed to consume a chair. ¡°You know the Church has tabs on you?¡±


    ¡°You are destroying our business,¡± Kait said. In her mind, she was imagining a capped urn containing her emotions. Her fear, unease, anger, and confusion were sitting beneath a clay seal, rolling over one another and building in pressure so she could unleash them if needed. The complex visualization was a technique her mother had taught her and that she had practiced all her life to better hide her abilities during threatening situations. In a time like this, a shift in ambient temperature could tip one of the attackers off to Kaitlyn¡¯s powers and get her and Matthew both killed.


    ¡°Business is business, and orders are orders,¡± the man to the left said, chuckling at his parallelism.


    The cap in Kait¡¯s mind buckled, but held.


    ¡°So you just came all the way out here to piss me off!?¡± Matt was not having as much luck controlling his emotions. His fists trembled, and Kait noticed he was standing on the balls of his feet, his calves quaking.


    ¡°Well we could only kill your dad once, you know?¡± the man on the right said. Kait heard the words and knew immediately that Matt was compromised.


    She inhaled and peeled back a corner of her emotional cap, blending those passions with her dedication to protect her husband. The thoughts of stone-like resolve flashed from her, looking for a like-minded aspect of nature, and just as Kait had expected, she discovered sympathy from the flattened, hard ground, so densely packed that grass was hard pressed to take root. The earth was suitably impressed by the woman¡¯s passion and sprung to action, giving off a soft rumble like a far off stampede as the dirt rose up and churned over the feet of two of the thugs, burying them to their ankles.


    Matt did not notice his wife¡¯s crowd control tactics as he ran at the thug who had insulted his father, shoving him with two open palms onto the smoldering pile. The disruption flashed another ember, and the thug shouted in surprise as flames, not yet hot enough to do lasting harm, leapt around and onto him. He threw himself to the ground at Matt¡¯s feet and instantly began feeling the consequences of the move in the form of repeated kicks to his lower ribs.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    Meanwhile, Kait still felt the earth trembling. It was ready to drag the attackers to their graves for her if she wished it. Shocked and dazed, the men twisted and tried to lift their feet as the furniture erupted into a full-force blaze behind them. The situation was getting out of control.


    ¡°Damn you!¡± Matt screamed, delivering blow after blow into the crying man¡¯s torso.


    ¡°Matt, that¡¯s enough,¡± Kait said softly, taking care to hold her emotions at just the right level. The dirt around the two men was waiting eagerly for the command to crush their feet completely and it was taking quite a bit for Kait to not acquiesce. Matt looked at his wife, noticing she was holding the other two men at bay, the fear and anger on their faces brought a twisted smile to his. He landed one last kick.


    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± he said. ¡°They already destroyed everything.¡± Matt stared daggers at the crying man on the ground, and bit his lip to keep himself from keeping up his assault.


    ¡°You have destroyed our livelihood,¡± Kait said, looking at her captives.


    ¡°And your only chance at getting any money back.¡± Matt added.


    The middle thug spat in Kait¡¯s direction. ¡°Only chance? No sir. Now we know what your bitch here is we know what to bring with us when we come back. You¡¯ll come up with something, right?¡±


    At the insult, Kait tightened the earthly grip around the man¡¯s feet. He grimaced, but turned his expression into a wry smile.


    ¡°Keep it up, girly. The more you mess me up the sharper the blade the boss will use to cut you down.¡± He turned his head to look at Matt. ¡°I know you, Matty. You¡¯re a crafty man. You¡¯ll get the geld. I know you will.¡±


    Matt was back in control of himself as he walked beside Kait, reaching out to lightly touch her forearm. Her husband¡¯s fingertips relaxed her, and the men cried out in pain as the earth moved to carry out its own wishes. Kait quickly reached back out to the ground, easing the tension, and Kait barely noticed a huff-like exhale from Matt, almost as though he was disappointed. She urged the earth to back down, releasing the two men, who fell instantly to their knees.


    ¡°You¡¯ve done enough now.¡± Matt walked over to stand immediately over the attackers. Kait watched her husband¡¯s face change. It filled with hate in the firelight. ¡°Get your friend and go.¡±


    ¡°Oh we will,¡± the man responded. ¡°Like I said, though. We know what you have,¡± he said nodding in Kait¡¯s direction and he pulled himself up and strolled to his wounded partner who was now beginning to pull himself up. ¡°Stay warm tonight, you two.¡± The man began laughing loudly as he and his partners began walking up the road, leaving Matthew and Kaitlyn standing in the dark, looking at their life going up in flames. Kait reached out to the fire, felt its anger, and began to empathize, using her frustration at the situation to relate. The flames trembled, physically reacting to Kaitlyn¡¯s emotional connection.


    ¡°What are you doing, Kait?¡±


    ¡°I was going to put the fire out.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t bother,¡± Matt said, taking a couple steps away before turning back to look. Something in the broken pile of furniture collapsed, sending a cloud of sparks and embers skyward. ¡°Let it burn. Let¡¯s just sit and watch it.¡±


    ¡°Uh¡­¡± Kait looked to Matt, then the flames, then back to Matt before cutting off her communications with the fire. It surged with renewed vigor and she walked to sit beside her husband.


    ¡°This is kind of a good bye to dad,¡± Matt said after a moment of silence.


    ¡°Do you think those men will be coming back?¡±


    ¡°Definitely.¡±


    There was another silence as more wood in the flame collapsed, sending a wave of hot air over the couple.


    ¡°What are we going to do, Matt?¡±


    ¡°I have no idea.¡± Matt stared into the fire for a long time, not a single muscle on his face moving. Her red magic taught her so much about reading emotions. The slightest twitch of the lip could communicate excitement. A sudden flex of the forearm could mean you are defensive. A sparkle in the eye, even, could speak volumes about the ideas you were forming. Kaitlyn watched, but saw nothing from her husband. She prodded the environment around him, hoping that the air he was breathing, the dirt he was seated on, anything would speak to what he was thinking. But nothing knew.


    ¡°I have a friend in Malthan,¡± Matt finally said. The fire had died down quite a bit, and Kait had dozed off and on for quite some time. He rose to his feet and held out a hand to help her off the ground. ¡°He may be able to help us.¡±


    Kait smiled up as Matt pulled her to her feet. ¡°Thanks for helping me,¡± he said, pulling her close. He kissed her softly. ¡°We¡¯re going to be okay.¡±

 Bleedingheart Scene V

    Sam bit the tip of his tongue, holding back his excitement as he gripped the velvet rope that ran up through a brass pipe into the manor. He pulled down on it, the resistance much less than he remembered from only a couple years ago and somewhere in the house, a series of bells chimed an eight note tune. Sam turned to look out at the manor¡¯s lawn, perfectly manicured grass banked across gently rolling hills to either side of a single, continuous marble slab that acted as a footpath to the cobblestone street of the neighborhood named ¡°East Rest.¡±


    It and it¡¯s western twin were the wealthiest neighborhoods on the Throne. Located on the mountain¡¯s face just outside of the former Avatar¡¯s arms, it was also the closest you could get to the colossus without being a member of the church.


    The East Rest also happened to be Sam¡¯s home. This was his first visit since leaving for the Abbey and he had not told his parents at all of his arrival, looking forward to surprising them and his sisters.


    From inside the massive door to his family¡¯s manor, he heard a voice approaching. The sound of the doorknob rattling inside was muffled through the thick door and eventually it swung inward to reveal a young lady of sixteen or seventeen. She looked at Sam curiously before looking back over her shoulder.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± she called. ¡°I think he¡¯s here for you dad. It¡¯s some guy-¡± Suddenly, the girl stopped and looked back at her older brother in shock. ¡°Samson!¡± she shrieked, running forward and throwing her arms around her older sibling, tears of joy already flowing.


    ¡°Hey, Diane, I just bought this shirt, Sam said, playfully pushing her head away from his chest, leaving behind a large wet spot on the light blue fabric.


    ¡°I¡¯m so happy to see you,¡± she cried, her tears of joy pulling her face into a kind of pained grimace.


    ¡°Oh, you certainly look it,¡± Sam said, laughing.


    ¡°What is all of the shouting about?¡± boomed a baritone voice from just inside the manor¡¯s front door. ¡°Some stranger bothering my youngest?¡± A tall man, well-dressed and well-groomed, appeared, satisfied by his joke. His gleaming smile was projecting from under a thick, blond mustache and curling up till his eyes were pushed into a squint. ¡°Welcome home, son!¡±


    He pulled in his son and daughter for a tight hug before ushering them all inside. ¡°Jane!¡± Diane wailed. ¡°Samson¡¯s here! Samson¡¯s here!¡± She walked speedily through the manor¡¯s foyer, crying out as she went. The calls echoed slightly under the high ceilings.


    ¡°So, an official paladin now? Do I call you ¡®His Eminence¡¯ or something?¡± Sam¡¯s father joked as they stepped out into the large welcoming hall. There the house opened into its full three-story grandeur with a sweeping staircase going up to a windowed landing on the second floor filling Sam with a sudden nostalgia and a bit of shame.


    ¡°I uh,¡± Sam looked around, shocked that he had forgotten just how large his home was while he was away for those eight years. His father¡¯s joke and the cavernous room suddenly had him feeling like a stranger, out of place in the mansion. ¡°I think Sam will be okay, dad.¡±


    ¡°Oh, Dreamer,¡± cooed a soft voice from above. Walking along the railing of the landing was a middle-aged woman with platinum hair in a tight ponytail and a modest, but still elegant dress. ¡°Samson, it¡¯s so wonderful to see you, dear.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s nice to see you, too, mom,¡± Sam called up. Her soft smile was all that was needed to evaporate that strange feeling of being an outsider for the moment. Sam was a little sad to see that she had grown older during his decade away, but she seemed to stand a bit taller, smile wider, as though she was under less stress. ¡°You look great, mom.¡±


    ¡°Well now that you¡¯re gone she¡¯s finally got time to relax,¡± snapped a mature, female voice from down the hallway toward the manor¡¯s dining room. Sam turned his head toward the petite, skinny woman who had made the remark, her hazelnut colored hair was cut into a bob and hands rest on her hips, right where he remembered her leaving them when he left all those years ago.


    ¡°Jane,¡± Sam said warmly, holding his arms open to his older sister.


    ¡°Oh, you just come home and expect hugs from everyone?¡± she snapped back.


    ¡°Jane,¡± Sam repeated, drawing the vowel out a few beats.


    She snorted. ¡°Sure didn¡¯t teach you how to sing in the Abbey, did they?¡±


    Sam repeated her name, giving his voice an exaggerated vibrato. Jane rolled her eyes with mock disgust and ran to her brother, embracing him tightly.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad to see you, bud.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m glad to be here,¡± Sam replied.


    ¡°You have to see what mom and I did to your room,¡± Diane urged, tugging on Sam¡¯s shirt. Sam looked up to his mother in shock to see her looking betrayed at her youngest daughter.


    ¡°Diane! Don¡¯t tell him that!¡±


    ¡°What? What happened?¡± Sam asked. ¡°Did you get rid of my stuff?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve not been living here since you were twelve, son,¡± Sam¡¯s father replied.


    ¡°I came to visit a year and a half ago, though, and everything was fine!¡± he said, exasperated.


    ¡°Guess they didn¡¯t teach you how to be grown man, either,¡± Jane said with a wicked, but playful grin.


    Sam looked distraught on the outside, but on the inside, he was relieved. He was certain his father realized something was wrong with his training. Sam had written home nearly a month ago when he was preparing for his final duty as a vanguard and they were preparing a surprise for his mother and sisters. The change of plans had been disappointing, but Sam never explained why it was happening.


    But his father was fronting well enough this afternoon, and his mother and sisters were acting as though he had never left. And the tricks were working for Sam, too. Despite the shaking first steps into the manor, he felt as though he were once again a piece of the house.


    As Diane pulled Sam up the stairs to show him the redecorating that had been done recently he passed a marble bust of his paternal grandfather. The family name, Estin, carved into the base, stood out. Sam felt a pang of sorrow when he remembered that name was no longer part of who he was.


    ¡°What?¡± Sam groaned from his doorway, peering into what had once been his bedroom.


    ¡°Your sister wanted a studio, Samson,¡± his mother said softly.


    Despite the house having two guest bedrooms, it was Sam¡¯s that Diane had invaded, and then apparently gutted to make way for an arsenal of painting supplies. Many of them seemed to be staining the floor, as well as the tables scattered about his former bedroom.


    ¡°But why my room?¡± Sam protested.


    ¡°The windows,¡± Diane urged, squeezing past her brother and into the open space, delicately stepping over a brush, still wet with a deep purple paint, that had been left on a shirt.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    ¡°That¡¯s my shirt,¡± Sam said, looking down at the ruined cloth.


    ¡°From when you were twelve, Sam. Don¡¯t be ridiculous,¡± his mother added.


    Sam paused, his face curling reflexively into a pout. ¡°Still,¡± was all he could say.


    ¡°But look!¡± Diane interjected, spinning an easel halfway, then stopping to study the way the sunlight was falling on it. Ultimately, she shrugged and spun it so the painted face was toward her family.


    The picture was atrocious. The canvas was split horizontally. The upper half was a field of solid, uninterrupted blue. The lower half, the green of something long-dead. Where the colors met, but slightly off to the right, was a colossal brown stain. It struck out in every direction at once, never even hinting at what shape it was originally dreamed up to represent. For someone who chose her studio based on lighting, it was clear Diane had no clue how to replicate it in her art, as cream color streaks dripped almost randomly across the brown puddle. A tree? Maybe a bear? Samson had no clue.


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s beautiful,¡± Sam¡¯s mother said slowly and measuredly.


    ¡°Sam? What do you think?¡± Diane asked, smiling with expectation.


    Sam froze. Opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again. ¡°Speechless, really,¡± he said, deciding to not lie to his sister.


    ¡°I had one of the housekeepers take me out on the March to get a good look at it. We sat watching the light fall on the Throne all day until I knew just what I wanted to create.¡± Diane looked up and off, her mind¡¯s eye painting a picture that was hopefully more detailed and clear than what she had produced.


    Sam stared a bit harder at the painting now that he knew it was supposed to be the Throne. He still could not quite find it.


    ¡°Look at this one,¡± Diane said, skipping between paint stains to a second easel further in the room. ¡°It¡¯s not quite done yet, but-¡±


    ¡°Oh!¡± their mother said suddenly. ¡°If it is not done yet, you can¡¯t show us! It¡¯s bad luck, you know.¡±


    Diane furrowed her brow. ¡°Really? Oh, well, I don¡¯t want to ruin it before it even has a chance.¡±


    ¡°Mom! Sam! Diane! Dad has some lunch out on the table!¡± Jane¡¯s cry from the stairwell down the hall could not have come earlier.


    ¡°Oh, you heard that, Diane,¡± Sam¡¯s mother said, pushing her son out of the ¡°studio.¡± ¡°We don¡¯t want to keep your father waiting.¡±


    At risk of sounding gluttonous, the dining room was Sam¡¯s favorite place in the house. The ceiling was shorter than the corridors and welcoming halls, and the windows were high on the walls. His grandfather¡¯s father had specifically designed the room so that when the family sat down together to eat, they would have no choice but to be present with each other. Sam had a moment of panic before entering the dining room where he half-expected to see his chair missing from the table, or see the dining table turned into an art project of some sort. But that would, after all, defeat the purpose of the room.


    His chair was right where he left it, on the long side of the table with his father at the head to his left, and mother at his right, while his sisters sat side by side across from him.


    Cold meats, cheese, and bread were delicately arranged on a gleaming platter in the center of the table as the family took their seats. Every place setting was an overly fancy ceramic plate with a crystal glass, filled almost to the brim with iced sun tea, Mrs. Estin¡¯s specialty. Sam¡¯s father was already manipulating an open faced sandwich to find the best angle of attack.


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t you have waited a second, dad?¡± Jane asked, a snap to her voice.


    ¡°I was hungry! I skipped breakfast walking your fiance to the lifts!¡±


    ¡°Oh? Henry and Jane are engaged?¡± Sam asked with a playful grin. ¡°I mean, it is still Henry, right?¡±


    ¡°Stop it, Sam,¡± Jane retorted, reaching for a slice of dense, dark bread. ¡°Yes, Henry and I are engaged.¡±


    ¡°To be married!¡± Diane added helpfully as she chewed the edge of a piece of yellow cheese.


    ¡°Well, congratulations,¡± Sam said genuinely. ¡°He¡¯s a good guy from what I remember.¡±


    ¡°Oh he is,¡± the father said, his mouth full. ¡°He just can¡¯t remember how to get back down the damn mountain.¡±


    ¡°Swallow your food first, James,¡± Sam¡¯s mother chided as she daintily prepared her food.


    ¡°So how was training at the Abbey?¡± Diane asked and there was a pause around the table. Jane, Diane, and their mother all waited for Sam¡¯s answer. Their father halted his chewing to see how his son would react. Sam, on the other hand, seized up. He knew he would have to breach the subject at some point. He figured he could just prepare for it later. Jane, though, could see he was uncomfortable.


    ¡°You okay, bud?¡± she asked after a moment.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Sam said, her question stirring the air enough to get him moving. He took a deep breath. ¡°Training was great,¡± he half-lied. ¡°So good, actually, I wanted to do it twice.¡± Sam looked around the table with a wide, forced smile.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Samson,¡± his mother asked. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°I, uh,¡± Sam looked down at his empty plate. ¡°I got hurt during my final duty as a Vanguard. The Abbey was pretty upset with me and they put me through a crash course as a Confidant.¡±


    ¡°You got hurt?¡± Diane asked.


    ¡°How badly?¡± Jane prodded, almost as though she had a fight to pick with the person that caused the pain.


    ¡°I was bedridden for about two weeks.¡±


    ¡°Oh, Dreamer,¡± Sam¡¯s mother said, covering her mouth with her napkin.


    ¡°But you¡¯re okay now?¡± Diane asked, her eyes big. Worried.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Sam half-lied again. He wanted to tell them about the chest plate. About how the Abbey thought he needed to be punished for nearly dying. About how he spent eight years to get something he never wanted. ¡°I¡¯m okay now.¡± He reached to the center of the table and began grabbing at some of the food.


    His father, who had continued eating again, looked up curiously. ¡°So what¡¯d they name you, son?¡±


    ¡°Bleedingheart,¡± Sam said, confident it sounded impressive enough without the background.


    ¡°How romantic!¡± his mother said, nodding approvingly.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Jane added playfully. ¡°Women are gonna be spilling over themselves to take that name, Sam. Beatrice Bleedingheart. Brianna Bleedingheart. Babs Bleedingheart.¡± With every name Jane would pantomime a swooning floozy. ¡°Such a powerful name for a powerful paladin.¡± The family laughed. Even Sam¡¯s mom chuckled.


    ¡°I think it¡¯s very nice, Sam,¡± Diane added. ¡°It sounds like someone who does things for the right reasons.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll toast to that,¡± Sam¡¯s dad said suddenly, smiling to his son. He lifted his glass, and as he did said ¡°To Samson Bleedingheart, who does the right things for the right reasons.¡±


    Bashful from the attention, but grateful and relieved for the support, Sam raised his glass to meet his parents¡¯ and sisters¡¯. The sun tea was sweet and cool, and a comfortable chill crept across the scar on his chest, reminding him that it was still there, but clearly manageable.


    After the meal, the rest of the day was without incident. Sam finally found his transplanted bedroom where he would spend the night before heading back to work the next afternoon, and he spent a majority of the day sitting with his parents in the family¡¯s massive study, catching up on the neighborhood gossip and telling more stories of his times in the Abbey. Though they asked for a detailed retelling of the Naming, they never once asked about the duties out of respect. They asked what he would be up to in the Back City and, of course, how often he would be up to visit them. Sam answered as conservatively as he could, knowing how eagerly his mom would remember every syllable for later use.


    The evening, however, was a little more exciting. As their parents prepared for dinner and Sam stood on a parlor balcony looking out over his mother¡¯s prize-winning garden, Jane approached him.


    ¡°So, tell me what happened, Sam,¡± she demanded. She was wearing her no-funny-business big sister look.


    Sam inhaled deeply and then told her. He told her everything from threatening to kill the teenaged robber to when he woke up days later in terrible pain. She listened with tightly pursed lips as he explained the Church found him at fault, and laughed with incredulity at the gift presented during his Naming.


    ¡°So,¡± she said. ¡°How bad is the scar?¡±


    ¡°Bad,¡± Sam said, pulling on the collar of his shirt, just barely revealing the top splashes of the gnarled skin. He gestured across his torso to communicate the size of the rest and Jane winced.


    ¡°Sam, you can never tell mom,¡± she chuckled. ¡°You need a hug.¡±


    ¡°I think I¡¯ll be okay,¡± Sam managed to say before realizing she had not asked. His older sister threw her arms around him and suddenly he was twelve again, crying about a skinned knee or a dog bite. Jane was quick witted and sharp tongued, but she had the presence of a healer when it was needed, and Sam had been gone for so long, he had lost track of just how much he had needed his sister and the rest of his family.


    ¡°Don¡¯t let them walk all over you, Sammy,¡± she said, using the diminutive she reserved for the closest moments and snappiest insults. ¡°There¡¯s not a lot of justice in the world. Sometimes you have to bring it yourself¡±

 Actors on the Verdant Stage Scene I

    But there¡¯s no one else around the small voice cried out.


    ¡°I know, but you can be the first. Think about it this way. You are afraid of being here by yourself, but what about the next plant or animal that comes along. Do you think they will be any more confident seeing a big strong oak tree they don¡¯t know?¡±


    I guess not.


    ¡°Exactly. But you, being that big strong oak tree, can be the friendly one. You can help make them feel brave, just like I am for you right now!¡±


    I think I would like that, Wesley.


    ¡°I think you would, too,¡± Wesley said without moving his lips. green magic was the key to communicating with the small acorn in his calloused palm. The young druid stood in the center of a circle of ashes, the site of a forest fire. He wore earth-toned cottons in the form of thick brown pants and a thin light-green, buttoned shirt. A thicker brown vest sewn to mock the look of leather served as a layer of protection, and a roughed up brown, billed cap and a beat up messenger bag completed the look of the meek traveler.


    He squatted down, sliding the bag to the ashes and digging inside with his free hand. He found a wooden trowel and began to dig a small hole.


    ¡°Alright, how does it look?¡± Wesley asked the acorn. It responded with an excited, childish giggle. Wesley set the acorn in the hole and pressed the soil over the top. He stepped back and looked down at the mound of charred soil. ¡°Okay, now you have to work for me.¡±


    Okay, I¡¯ll try!


    Wesley watched with a smile as little bits of dirt shifted and tumbled about to allow a small sprout to poke up into the open air.


    Wow! It¡¯s so empty. Is there anyone around?


    Wesley frowned. ¡°No one who is worth talking with, unfortunately. It¡¯s all up to you, friend.¡±


    What do you mean?


    The druid looked over his shoulder to where a blackened stone sat in the charred clearing. A thick green moss was starting to grow around the northern face of the boulder, but Wesley had gone out of his way to ignore anything the moss had to say.


    They hate you, the sprout said of the moss. Why, Wesley?


    Wesley wanted to explain the Overgrowth to the sprout, but it was still at risk of falling to the sway of that fringe community. Talnorel needed this little oak to be the start of the new grove. When the wrath liches burned the last grove, killing the druid who kept it, she lost an entire communication node that connected much of the northern end of the continent.


    Eighteen groves. Completely out of contact. And if the Overgrowth had access to those groves, it could be ages before contact could be established again, and the damage could be irreversible.


    ¡°Because of what happened to the grove here before. They¡¯re still mourning,¡± Wesley said, choosing his words carefully. ¡°Which is why they need you.¡±


    Let me try to grow a bit more, then!


    Wesley grinned and looked at the moss. Nice try. When he looked back to the sprout, it was now a sapling at least as tall as a small child.


    Wow! I can almost hear the trees outside the clearing.


    ¡°That¡¯s great! Can you grow any more today?¡±


    I can try! I want to get to know my neighbors. The moss feels left out, though.


    Wesley¡¯s breath caught. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about them. Do you think you would be able to support them the way they need to be supported by yourself? After all, the trees on the edge of the clearing lost their friends here, too.¡±


    That¡¯s a good point. I don¡¯t know anything about death. The sapling¡¯s voice, or rather the analogue Wesley¡¯s mind invented for it, was becoming more mature as it grew taller and thicker into an actual tree.


    Wesley lowered some of the partitions in his mind to see if the oak was large enough to establish connection once again. He could hear murmurs from the edge of the clearing and they were becoming louder and clearer with every inch the oak grew. ¡°You¡¯re doing great, friend,¡± Wesley remarked as the oak began to crackle and pop with its growth, beginning to lose the fleshy, green nature of youth in favor of stronger wood.


    I can hear them!


    Wesley could, too. He sighed with relief. This was his seventh grove reclamation, but those last vital moments were always stressful. Even without an agent of the Overgrowth right beside him.


    ¡°Would you like to see if we can connect to the Verdant Stage?¡± Wesley offered.


    I¡¯m kind of tired, but I think we should try, the oak responded, its voice now that of teenager¡¯s.


    ¡°Okay, if it gets to be too difficult, just let me know, okay? Do you know how to reach it?¡±


    I think so.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    ¡°All right, let¡¯s try.¡± Wesley closed his eyes, steadied his breathing, and reached out with his mind to the oak. Suddenly, he was present on the Verdant Stage, a large black void that smelled of dew and spring air. The oak stood in front of him manifest in the psychic space as a young, almost-human man clothed like a farmer. Everything about him, from his skin to the clothes he wore was a shade of green. The only thing that remained of his tree form was a head of hair made of oak leaves.


    You¡¯re a tree! the oak boy said with excitement.


    Wesley laughed. ¡°Not quite! It¡¯s just the way you¡¯re imagining me. Now, look over there!¡± Wesley said eagerly. On the fringes of the darkness stood more human-shaped figures. Some were buttercup yellows, rose-red, or goldfish-orange, but they were so numerous that the colors beyond the brightest were difficult to discern.


    There are so many.


    ¡°And we can talk to all of them. Ready?¡±


    Yes.


    Suddenly, there was a rush within the void, an overpowering floral scent as the simple thought of networking with the minds of creatures connected by Green Magic manifested itself. Flowers, mosses, fish, deer, rushed past, all imagined by Wesley to be more human than plant or animal.


    As the shapes whizzed by, they eagerly greeted the oak. The voices were all as different as every plant and animal on the continent, and some were noticeably more powerful than others, speaking with a profound confidence, and exuding a pressure that neither the oak, nor Wesley could match. Those were the nodes that this whole network hinged on; the first trees or shrubs or bear or moose that acted as the nuclei of a grove.


    The crowds whizzed by faster and faster, growing more and more dense until suddenly a woman, twice as tall as Wesley stood between the two. The other shapes shuffled about to give them space.


    She was colossal, even Wesley¡¯s mind could not erase that fact. In her Verdant Stage avatar, she was a lithe, beautiful woman, with chestnut-colored skin and lichen-green hair that collected in pools at her feet, blending amongst the folds of a wonderful, deep green gown. Her long, pointed ears reached out from the sides of her angular head like branches.


    Wonderful work, Wesley, she said, her voice filling the air warmly.


    ¡°Thank you, Treemother,¡± he said, bowing slightly to the woman.


    Are you who I think you are? the oak asked in awe, mimicking Wesley¡¯s display of courtesy.


    Stand tall, my sons. You have done me a great service. It is I who should be bowing to you, she urged, bending at the waist. Yes, child, I am Talnorel, the Mother of the Forest.


    But you¡¯re so far away. I can see you right in front of me!


    ¡°The power of the Verdant,¡± Wesley said smiling.


    Wesley is correct. With my touch and Wesley¡¯s green magics you have grown much faster than your brethren, and with your maturity you have tapped into our community. You are safe here, and welcome.


    You may feel as if you have grown up too quickly at times, the goddess continued. But do not fret. The Verdant are here. We have all lived enough lives together to more than help you through any problem that may arise. And we are here to help you with anything you need help with. The best part of the Verdant is that you are never alone.


    The avatar of Talnorel approached the young boy and embraced him. Wesley could not imagine what their interaction must have been like within the oak¡¯s mind, but the blushing grin from the oak proved that it had experienced something. Wesley smiled at the Verdant¡¯s newest member.


    Well, my sons, I shall let you return to the newest grove. And again, welcome. There was another surge of floral aromas and cheers from the druids, plants, and animals they passed on their way back to consciousness and with a sharp inhale, Wesley was standing in the shade of a tall oak tree.


    I can¡¯t believe I met her, the tree said with glee.


    ¡°Well, she is there for you if you ever need her,¡± Wesley assured. Suddenly, another voice clattered into his mind.


    Wesley, someone¡¯s coming. No, two.


    ¡°Two people?¡± Wesley offered, partly as a correction, partly as clarification.


    Don¡¯t know. Their walls are up.


    Wesley began to panic. Normal minds can not partition well enough to go unidentified by green magic. ¡°Come back, Lady.¡±


    On the edge of the charred clearing, an orange splotch came into sight, rapidly coming into focus as it bounded on four legs toward Wesley and the tree. The fox, its three tails whipping about independently, looked up at Wesley with large, glistening eyes as it caught its breath.


    Is something wrong? the oak asked, its voice spiced with concern.


    ¡°We¡¯ll find out soon,¡± Wesley said, scanning the edge of the clearing where Lady


    had run from. He probed the tree line for a nosey mind. He was unwilling to use the oak or Lady as a conduit for the search, trying to have as low of a profile in nature¡¯s shared consciousness as possible. Lady let out an audible whimper as the tension grew.


    ¡°Wesleeeeey!¡± a voice suddenly carved loudly through the air, calling Wesley¡¯s name in a mockingly matronly way. It was so loud and obnoxious that Wesley could not tell if it was within the Verdant or out loud until he noticed Lady¡¯s ears immediately swivel. At the edge of the clearing, a shape was sauntering toward them.


    ¡°Duncan, I swear,¡± Wesley called out through his mind. ¡°Why would you sneak up like that out here?¡±


    ¡°See if I could, why else?¡± the other druid replied, as he approached. Duncan was taller and stockier than Wesley, and his short beard was somehow tinged a slight green. ¡°Lady almost caught me, too.¡±


    Companions are not only good for finishing uneaten food, Duncan, Lady chided.


    ¡°I know, I know, Foxy,¡± Duncan said, waving her off. ¡°Good work here, Wes. If you¡¯re done, I¡¯m starved. Was hoping we could go set up camp?¡±


    ¡°Sure thing,¡± Wesley said, hefting his bag back onto his shoulder. He looked up at the oak, and just as he began to give the tree his goodbye, the oak¡¯s laughter permeated the psychic conversation space first.


    ¡°What¡¯s so funny?¡± Duncan asked the tree.


    Haha, nothing. Just something the moss said.


    Wesley and Duncan looked at each other with narrow eyes. ¡°Well, it was wonderful working with you,¡± Welsey said to the oak.


    Likewise! And thank you for taking me to meet the Mother Tree.


    ¡°Like she said,¡± Wesley called as they began to walk away. ¡°She is, I am, we all are here for you whenever you need us.¡±


    Duncan, Wesley, Lady began to walk back toward the treeline, passing the moss-covered boulder. Lady sauntered away from the druids toward the stone, and with as close of a grin as she would make with her vulpine face, she kicked dirt onto the moss.

 The Carpenter Scene III

    The Broken Bough Tavern was more wholesome that Kaitlyn had expected. The settlements in the March¡¯s southeast were constantly being ravaged by the Wrath Liches¡¯ cults, so many establishments kept their property at a barely maintained minimum. If the bastardized blend of red and blue magic wielded by the liches was turned on their home, the losses would be minimal.


    This tavern, though, was content in taking risks. The four story building was alone amongst acres of woodland and was lively with travelers who would rather not be under the trees at night. The dusty windows at the top floor were the only ones lit by the setting sun filtering through the trees, so the restaurant portion of the business on the ground floor was already busy with nightlife. Clanking flatware and boisterous conversation rolled from the half-open windows and the propped door.


    ¡°So your friends are here?¡± Kaitlyn asked, relieved by the warmth of the building. Walking miles to meet strangers had not rested well with her conscience at first.


    ¡°Right, let¡¯s go say hello,¡± Matt said, seeming quite excited as he bounced toward the tavern¡¯s door. Kaitlyn managed a smile at his cheerful demeanor. It had become more and more dominant over the man¡¯s personality since Matt¡¯s outburst about his father. A strange turn on the surface, but Kaitlyn knew the Carpenter family had not always been the happiest.


    Matt stood taller now as if a literal weight was lifted by the death of his father and the destruction of the furniture they had hauled all over Kraagheim. Even the criminals that had been demanding payment and threatening a return did not seem to bring Matt down.


    After all, he had friends, and they had a plan. The money would come and the Tarley Family would get their payment, and Kaitlyn and Matthew Carpenter would finally be able to settle down. That made Matt happy, which, in turn, raised Kait¡¯s spirits as well.


    She followed Matt into the Tavern that was warmly lit and rambunctious in a way that reminded her of the festivals and parties her family would have as they traveled. A doe-eyed girl in a flour dusted apron greeted them.


    ¡°Welcome, you two,¡± she said cheerfully. ¡°You came right in time, we only got a couple rooms left if you¡¯re looking to stay tonight.¡±


    ¡°Yes, thank you,¡± Matt said with a nod. ¡°Kaitlyn, I¡¯m going to go find them, why don¡¯t you handle the rooms?¡±


    ¡°Well, you¡¯ll want to head right into the main room and talk to my mom, under that sign there,¡± the girl said, gesturing to a delightfully plump woman standing beneath a wooden plank, the words ¡°check in¡± burned into it.


    ¡°Sure, Matty. I¡¯ll find you afterward.¡± Kaitlyn hitched her hiking bag onto her shoulder and pushed into the throng of guests toward the check in desk as Matt described his friends to the hostess.


    It only took a moment to get the room reserved, but the woman was a master of small talk. Just a handful of strategic questions and Kaitlyn was committed to leading an early morning stretching session for the mother and her friends the next day. The woman had heard the nomads all do it to communicate with the elements and would love to try. And Kaitlyn was the first red magic user she had seen all year. After a short round of marriage advice and a confirmation on the morning appointment, the woman finally let Kaitlyn go find her husband.


    She found Matthew in a shadowy corner of the tavern¡¯s dining room. A booth-style table was so distant from any of the lamps in the room that it needed a candle in the center of the table to illuminate Matt and his friends.


    Sitting immediately beside him was a small, attractive man with sharp features and a goatee. Across from him was a colossal wall of a man who had to weigh more than Matt and the small man combined. And finally, sitting across from Matt, was a woman who looked to be from northern Gavundar, with her pearly-white skin and jet black hair, which was pulled back into a ponytail so tight it looked painful.


    ¡°There you are,¡± Kaitlyn said as she approached, and was taken aback when Matt started.


    ¡°Oh! I uh,¡± he said, looking at the other three. ¡°I thought you would take our things up to the room?¡± He asked the way he always did when he did not approve of Kait¡¯s actions.


    ¡°But now she¡¯s here!¡± said the smaller man. ¡°Take a seat, lovely. We have a feast coming.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± the woman chimed in. ¡°And we can¡¯t finish it all on our own.¡±


    ¡°Speak for yourselves,¡± the larger man said theatrically. Kaitlyn grinned when she realized this had to be a bit for the troupe. ¡°I¡¯m starving.¡±


    ¡°And I¡¯m Jack,¡± the smaller man said without missing a beat. He smiled to Kait, revealing his mouthful of sharp teeth. The first fanged folk Kait had ever seen, and if Jack was any indication, they were as handsome as everyone claimed they were. ¡°And his name, truly, is Benji.¡±


    ¡°My name is Sarah, beautiful,¡± the woman said, extending her hand for a shake. ¡°Now, take a seat!¡± She shooed a frustrated Matthew down the bench, closer to Jack to make room for Kaitlyn.


    There was a moment of tension before Matthew decided to make it all the worse. ¡°So, about our¡­ Our plan?¡±


    ¡°Hush!¡± Sarah nearly shouted. ¡°Don¡¯t you know it¡¯s bad luck to talk business over a meal?¡±


    ¡°But we¡¯re not eating yet,¡± Kaitlyn offered, curious to see if this conversation would be scripted as well.


    ¡°No,¡± Jack said. ¡°But this plan can not be discussed fully before our meal will arrive. Don¡¯t worry, Matty, my boy, we will have plenty of time to talk!¡±


    Kaitlyn was astounded that these three were friends of Matt¡¯s. He was so dour all the time, she could only imagine him being a whipping boy for their antics.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Matt said, looking down. Kait noticed his nervous tic, a rhythmic and continuous bounce of the left leg. ¡°I¡¯m just excited to have the group together again.¡±


    ¡°Oh, bullshit,¡± Sarah burst out. She looked at Kait with wide eyes. ¡°Excuse the language, dear.¡± She then turned her gaze back to Matt, starring daggers at the man. ¡°You haven¡¯t written us, looked for us, even dropped in for a damned cookie in four years. Excited my ass!¡± She looked to Kaitlyn again. ¡°Sorry.¡±


    Kaitlyn laughed out loud. ¡°It¡¯s fine, it¡¯s fine! I mean, he deserves it!¡± She could feel Matthew bristling beside her.


    ¡°I like you,¡± Sarah said to Kait. ¡°You¡¯re smart.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m Kaitlyn, by the way.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you, Kaitlyn.¡± Jack responded. ¡°I¡¯d say ¡®to finally meet¡¯ if we had known Matt had even been married.¡±


    ¡°Okay, okay,¡± Matt said, obviously fed up with the jokes at his expense. ¡°That¡¯s enough. Seriously.¡±


    ¡°Should we get drinks?¡± Benji asked the table.


    ¡°Great idea,¡± Sarah said, nodding enthusiastically. ¡°Play for who pays?¡± She gestured to a small velvet pouch at the end of the table against the wall, and Kaitlyn lit up.


    ¡°Oh, I haven¡¯t played this game in so long!¡± she said, excited. ¡°That is a Divine Intervention set, isn¡¯t it?¡±If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    ¡°That it is, Kait,¡± Jack said, snagging the pouch. ¡°Would you like first draw?¡±


    Kaitlyn eagerly took the pouch, feeling like a child in her grandmother¡¯s tent. She opened the drawstrings just enough to reach her hand inside and could hardly control a quiet ¡°wow.¡± The set was extremely high quality, each chip was actually a metal coin, and from what Kaitlyn could feel, there was plenty of detail. Finally, she chose one of the chips and pulled it from the bag, showing it to the table.


    One side was decorated with a fancy ¡°BBT¡± monogram for the tavern, but the other side was only a tree.


    ¡°The Tree Mother, Talnorel,¡± Kaitlyn said confidently, looking around to see if anyone would challenge her. Everyone nodded their agreement, and so Kait continued. ¡°Talnorel woke on a bright summer day and reached out to commune with the living things from all over the world. But something was wrong on this day,¡± Kaitlyn said, grimly. The theatrics of the groups¡¯ introductions gave her the confidence to ham up her storytelling. ¡°Because today, she could not talk to any of the mice!¡±


    ¡°Oh, this will be fun,¡± Sarah said. ¡°I can tell you¡¯re very good at this game.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a little out of practice,¡± Kaitlyn said humbly. ¡°But my grandmother used to hand carve sets from stone, so I played it for as long as I can remember.¡± Kaitlyn passed the pouch off to Matthew, who shook his head.


    ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t think I will play, thanks.¡±


    ¡°You have to,¡± Benji said. ¡°If you don¡¯t, then you have to buy the round.¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± Matt looked to leave the table, but Kaitlyn did not move.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be difficult, Matt, just play the game,¡± she said, rattling the bag toward him.


    Matt grunted and reached into the bag, immediately pulling a chip out, showing it off. A flaming wreath of flowers.


    Matt stared at the coin, the confusion coming in waves. ¡°Dorvan the Wroth,¡± he finally said when he decided he didn¡¯t care.


    ¡°I challenge!¡± Kaitlyn said suddenly, unable to contain herself.


    ¡°I¡¯ll second,¡± Sarah said, crossing her arms.


    ¡°What, why?¡±


    ¡°Burning wreath? That¡¯s Chael. Burning skull is Dorvan. That¡¯s one strike!¡± Kaitlyn replied.


    Matt looked at her, betrayed and angry, as he shoved the pouch to Jack.


    Jack plucked a coin marked with a crashing wave. ¡°Ah! Tidus, the Laughing Buccaneer! Well, as it had turned out, Tidus had reached out to the mice of Kraagheim and offered them all positions on a magnificent fleet!¡±


    ¡°I want to challenge that,¡± Sarah said. ¡°A fleet of mice?¡±


    ¡°Well, Tidus is a trickster,¡± Jack explained.


    ¡°He is,¡± Kaitlyn said nodding.


    ¡°Alrighty, the strike¡¯s mine,¡± Sarah said, pouting. ¡°After all, Mrs. Carpenter is our expert!¡±


    ¡°On to Benji, then! And Mad Jack is unscathed again!¡± Jack said triumphantly.


    ¡°No one will call you that,¡± Benji said flatly as he fished for a coin. Finally, his chubby fingers emerged with a coin depicting a large toadstool. ¡°Trufflim!¡± he said happily. ¡°Talnorel reached out to her ally, Trufflim, the Mushroom Keeper to ask if he knew why the mice had suddenly gone missing. Trufflim explained that Tidus had come to him asking for huge amounts of cheese. Sarah?¡± Benji passed the satchel on.


    Sarah reached in and plucked out a coin with a snowflake. Two hatchets crossed behind it. ¡°Petra, Winter¡¯s Daughter,¡± Sarah said with a grin. ¡°Their discussion was interrupted when Petra arrived, confused as to why a boat of rodents had landed on the frozen wastes. She feared for the critters¡¯ welfare and hoped for some answers.¡±


    The satchel returned to Kaitlyn. The coin she drew was decorated with a mortar and pestle. ¡°Szynya, the Healer.¡±


    ¡°You are very good at this. I¡¯ve never seen that emblem before,¡± Jack admitted, shaking his head.


    ¡°Thank you!¡± Kait said, beaming. ¡°Uh, Syzynya approached the gods with bad news. Tidus had forgotten to pick up cold weather supplements for his miniature crew. If the gods did not get the medication to the mice in a few hours, they would all die! Your turn, Matty.¡±


    Kaitlyn passed the bag on, and Matt snatched it aggressively. He reached into the bag and removed a coin with a tortoise. Matt stared at it, and shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°Seriously Matt?¡± Kait asked, chuckling.


    ¡°Yes. Seriously. I don¡¯t know. I get the strike, I¡¯m out, and now I have to buy you all drinks like I was going to before we wasted our time with this stupid game.¡± He stared harshly at Kait until she slid from the booth and let him leave.


    She looked around the table to see Jack staring off into the dining room, Benji looking at his hands, and Sarah looking at her with concern.


    ¡°You alright?¡±


    ¡°Huh? What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Matt has a bit of a temper. I¡¯m sure you know But, I never liked when he got like that.¡±


    Kaitlyn was shocked. ¡°But, aren¡¯t you his friends?¡±


    ¡°Well of course, we grew up with him,¡± Jack responded, still not quite looking at Kaitlyn. ¡°Doesn¡¯t mean we like when he gets toasty. Looks like our food is coming!¡±


    The discussion about her husband was put on hold as a waitress and server began heaping plates of steaming, Lower March homestyle food onto the table. Dense biscuits. Deep casseroles. Caramel colored poultry. Matt came quickly behind, his dark demeanor not recovered, but with a tray of tall glasses with amber beer in hand.


    The group sat and ate, making small talk about Kaitlyn¡¯s youth traveling the March and how she and Matt met. All stories Kaitlyn had told a million times to a million people, and gotten quite bored with telling again and again. But in this company, though it may have been the drink, she felt it an enjoyable tale to tell.


    When the meal was complete for everyone except Benji, Jack leaned back. ¡°So, to business then?¡±


    ¡°Yes, please,¡± Matthew said with a nod. He turned to Kaitlyn. ¡°Would you mind taking the bags up to the room?¡±


    ¡°What, why?¡± Sarah¡¯s response came even faster than Kaitlyn¡¯s own confusion. ¡°Is she not going to help?¡±


    ¡°I was not planning on it,¡± Matthew said frankly.


    ¡°Maybe I can give a hand, Matty?¡± Kaitlyn offered, smiling.


    ¡°Yeah, open a fissure under some paladins. Drop a cave on a priest!¡± Sarah suggested.


    Kaitlyn¡¯s smile suddenly fell. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°The Church doesn¡¯t take kindly to theft, dear,¡± Jack responded. ¡°And you¡¯re a shaman. You can be our heavy! Sorry Benji.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t make an earthquake unless I fall,¡± Benji admitted, smiling at Kaitlyn.


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡±


    ¡°See? This is why I wanted you upstairs, Kaitlyn,¡± Matt said. ¡°This is why.¡±


    ¡°Who are these three, Matthew? Are these the ¡®Crew,¡¯ Matthew?¡±


    ¡°Go, Kaitlyn.¡±


    ¡°Already gone, Matt.¡±


    The Crew watched in shock as Kaitlyn got up from the table and walked out of the tavern¡¯s door. They sat in silence for a long moment before Matthew cleared his throat and tried to speak.


    ¡°Go get your wife.¡± Benji¡¯s voice was calm, slow, and cold.


    ¡°Now, Matthew,¡± Jack said, nudging him slightly.


    ¡°You know, you three didn¡¯t find me for four years either. What makes you think you can tell when there is trouble in my marriage?¡±


    ¡°No one said something was wrong with your marriage Matthew, but there will be tomorrow if you don¡¯t get your ass out there to her,¡± Sarah remarked.


    ¡°Look, if you want a heavy so bad, go and talk to her yourself.¡± Matthew looked at his friends and Sarah was on her feet.


    ¡°Okay, will do, Matty. You dirt bag.¡±


    Sarah found Kaitlyn in a patch of loam on the side of the building, her travel dress dirtied at the knees while knelt, head to the earth, and hands out in front of her.


    ¡°Kaitlyn?¡±


    The shaman took a deep breath and the loam seemed to breathe with her before she looked up. ¡°Sorry I stormed off like that.¡±


    ¡°Oh, like you said, Kait, he deserved it.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m also sorry if I offended you three.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re thieves. Robbers. Grimey little bugs. It takes more than some heated words to offend us.¡±


    ¡°I want to help him. I really do. You know what happened to us, right?¡±


    ¡°He wrote us a bit about it, yes. The thing is, Kaitlyn, the Tarleys? They will sabotage you until they have no choice but to kill you. They burned your livelihood once. They¡¯ll do it again. And again, until they finally burn your bodies, too.¡±


    Kaitlyn looked away.


    ¡°I¡¯m not saying you have to put blood on your hands, or even wear a mask. Chael, we¡¯ll tell everyone I kidnapped you. If we get caught. All I¡¯m saying is Matt needs you, and there¡¯s a good chance he needs us.¡±


    ¡°He promised me he was done with you guys. He promised me that our child would be free of this.¡±


    ¡°You being so good at Divine Intervention, you have to know how little promises mean sometimes.¡±


    Kaitlyn took a long sad look at Sarah, then laughed. ¡°You got a strike, too, Sarah. Some rules mean you have to buy a round, too.¡±


    ¡°Sure! I just hope you don¡¯t mind if it¡¯s bought with dirty money,¡± Sarah said, jingling her pocket mockingly. The two laughed their way back inside, and over a second round of drinks, the group began planning how they would rob the Church of the Will.

 Winters Daughter Scene II

    The last of the slavers were defeated, and their home successfully transformed into a temporary base of operations for Petra and her barbarian friends. The presence of the Winter¡¯s Daughter provided a settlement-wide respite from the cold as Petra sat before a roaring bonfire, a semicircle of enthralled children seated in front of her.


    ¡°So, kiddos,¡± she said theatrically. ¡°Who knows who my daddy is?¡±


    ¡°The Father of Winter!¡± some children shouted. ¡°Ymir!¡± others cried with glee. ¡°The Frost Axe!¡± came from a few of the children.


    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± Petra said grinning. ¡°So tonight, while your mums and dads are talking, I¡¯m gonna tell you a little story. The story of how a humble barbarian warrior-chief ascended to the rimed god of the frozen wastes!¡± A cool breeze tore through the camp. Petra made sure it was just chilly enough to get the kids¡¯ attention, but not make them uncomfortable. Petra grinned and the kids giggled in glee as the chills ran down their spines.


    ¡°Can anyone tell me what the biggest city of the frozen wastes was?¡±


    ¡°Fargard!¡± cried out an older little girl. She always answered Petra¡¯s questions. Petra pretended she did not hear the girl, and pointed to a young boy instead.


    ¡°Hans, do you know?¡±


    ¡°Uh,¡± the young boy said, shyly pulling his hat over his face. ¡°Uh, I think it was the town that Ymir is from. It¡¯s uh... It¡¯s uh,¡±


    ¡°Is it Nordheim?¡± Petra quizzed.


    ¡°Uh¡­ no,¡± Hans responded, pulling his hat onto his head again, finding some sort of confidence. ¡°It was Fargard.¡±


    ¡°Right you are, Hans! The Fractal Fortress of Fargard! So many winters before, before you were born, and even your parents¡¯ parents were born, Ymir lived in the fortress.


    ¡°He was the greatest warrior in the city, his battle axe was sharp enough to fell the greatest tree and lay low the greatest beasts. His war cry,¡± Petra paused, widening her posture and screaming into the sky with a ferocious battle cry. ¡°Could turn away the largest of armies!


    ¡°But he was not strong enough to stop the winter.¡± Petra summoned another breeze. The children cooed as they shuddered.


    ¡°As the sun set in the south, the glowing eyes of monsters covered the horizon and the grey clouds of blizzards began to drift over the city.¡± Snowflakes began to drift down over the crowd of children. ¡°The armies of the fortress rose up! Every man and woman strong enough and mature enough to take up arms were ready to brave the cold of winter. They pleaded with Ymir to remain, and if the worst would happen, he would protect the young, elderly, and ill of Fargard.


    ¡°Now, would any of you be out there fighting the monsters in the snow?¡±


    ¡°Yeah!¡± most of the children cried, but a tiny little girl stood up.


    ¡°No, because we are too little and our moms and dads. They would have to go and then-¡±The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Petra smiled as she gently interrupted the young child. ¡°That¡¯s right! You would have to stay behind, despite how big and tough you all are. But would you feel safe if Ymir were with you?¡±


    The ¡°yes!¡± was unanimous.


    ¡°Well, only one day passed as those inside the city waited for their families to return. Out of the one hundred or so warriors that left the city, three returned far less than had left. Wounded and bloodied, the returning fighters described hordes of indescribable horrors just over the horizon. Fargard was doomed.¡± Petra dramatically paused and the children shuffled nervously.


    Petra knelt down. ¡°But there was still hope, right? Because Ymir rose, battle axe in hand, and offered to fight for the whole city.


    ¡°¡®But Ymir, who will protect us?¡¯ the people asked. Do you know what he said?¡±


    The older girl stood up. Petra decided she would allow it. ¡°With me out there, you will not need someone here to protect you!¡± the girl shouted confidently. Petra beamed with pride.


    ¡°Ymir hefted his axe over his shoulder and stepped out of the city walls and out into the Frozen Wastes, the great glowing eyes of the wintery beasts glaring at his approach. The people of Fargard watched in fear, as their hero disappeared into the darkness.


    ¡°For ninety days of pitch dark night and bone-white blizzards, the people of Fargard waited for their doom. Carried on the winter winds were the roars of countless demons. Were they roars of pain or victory? No one knew. They could only wait.


    ¡°Then, the sun broke over the southern horizon. The blizzard abated and the winds slowed, and the monsters of winter were nowhere to be seen. The only shape in the Frozen Wastes was the slowly approaching shape of a colossal man with a battle axe on his shoulder and a massive bag in his hand.¡±


    ¡°Ymir saved everyone!¡± a little boy cried out from the back, and his genuine excitement brought a hint of tear to Petra¡¯s eyes.


    ¡°That¡¯s right, he did. And when he returned to the city, everyone knew their hero was not the same as when he left. His beard was white as snow, and his breath as cold as ice. His eyes were frosty and his hands chilled. Ymir had ascended, and his dominion over winter was asserted!


    ¡°But to prove it was not the harshness of winter that he had personified, Ymir brought with him gifts. Toys carved from monstrous scrimshaw! Coats sewn from leviathan hides! Blades forged from the rarest ores of the wastes! Winter had ended, and its departure meant a season of recovery for the people of Fargard.¡±


    ¡°But Ymir couldn¡¯t stay,¡± suggested a young girl.


    ¡°That¡¯s right. Ymir was the winter now, so when winter departed, so must he. But he promised something. Does anyone know what he promised?¡±


    There was quiet murmuring in the crowd. No one wanted to speak up, so Petra took a deep breath.


    ¡°He promised that ¡®no matter how cold and dark the winter gets, just as our bonfires hold off the darkness and chill, Ymir, the Winter Father, would hold off the threats to the people of the frozen wastes.¡¯¡±


    A gentle quiet fell over the group of children, and only the crackle of the fire could readily be heard.


    ¡°Ymirstottir?¡± The call came from the side, one of the children¡¯s fathers.


    ¡°Well, kiddos, I have to talk to your parents! Be good, okay. Otherwise Ymir may forget your gifts.¡±


    ¡°Wait, Petra! What about you? When did you get born?¡± one little girl asked.


    Petra grinned. ¡°A story for another time, little one! I¡¯ll be back to say goodnight to you all.¡± Petra crossed over to the father. ¡°What was decided?¡± she asked quietly.


    ¡°Well, our town was razed and this one has no resources of its own. We think our only choice is Bridgefort.¡±


    Petra frowned. ¡°Truly? The Church of the Will treats us like a necessary evil. You think they will offer us any help?¡±


    ¡°What option do we have, Ymirstottir?¡±


    Petra shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m just here for the kids, and if Bridgefort is where you intend to go, then I will make sure they get there safely.¡±

 Exiled Minister Scene I

    High Sergeant Boldbounty sat across from the pirate captain Sheila Scott with a rickety wooden table between them. Scott was staring daggers at a slice of buttered bread in front of her.


    ¡°It¡¯s the only dinner you get today, Miss,¡± Boldbounty sighed. He had been sitting in the holding cell with the captured captain in silence for quite some time. Scott had been talkative when the paladins had first pulled her from the seafoam, but once Boldbounty¡¯s men began to ask about just what she was doing in the water, she had clammed up.


    The watchmen on the chapel¡¯s walls the night before Scott washed up claimed they saw lightning on the horizon. The flashes are the calling card of the pirate known only as the Sea Witch. A pirate that had been circling like a hawk on Dawnbreak for months, and the reason Boldbounty had been installed at the command. He would keep the city safe by defeating its threat.


    ¡°Are you going to eat or are we just going to sit here together until we both die of hunger?¡±


    Scott gave Boldbounty an icy glance before finally reaching for the bread. ¡°What do you want, my gleaming host?¡±


    ¡°I want to know what a pirate queen was doing face-down in the sand, no ship or crew to be seen.¡±


    ¡°Won¡¯t say a thing, sir,¡± she said, her mouth full and the words spewing crumbs in Boldbounty¡¯s direction. ¡°It¡¯s policy, you know.¡±


    ¡°Pirate code,¡± Boldbounty chortled. ¡°You will draw a blade across each other¡¯s necks but Dreamer forbid you get the authorities involved.¡±


    ¡°Consider it me saving you and your men¡¯s lives,¡± the pirate said, tossing the final bite of food into her mouth.


    ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°Because they¡¯re a dangerous bunch! They¡¯ll drag you ¡®neath the waves before you can even plug your noses.¡±


    ¡°Who are they? Is it the Sea Witch?¡±


    Scott scoffed loudly, crossing her legs and turning her nose up defiantly. ¡°Pirate code, sir. It applies to mortals and gods alike.¡±


    Boldbounty grinned, pulling the plate over as he stood up from the table. ¡°Thank you for sharing your meal with me, ma¡¯am. Talk to you soon!¡± With that, the armored paladin walked to the thick wooden door to the cell. Holding up a golden-glowing gauntlet, he turned the knob to the sound of clanking lock mechanisms and pushed out to the hallway. A middle-aged fanged folk priestess was waiting for him.


    ¡°Anything today, Sergeant?¡±the priestess asked as they began walking and talking.


    ¡°More than she knows. The Sea Witch has the Laughing Buccaneer on her side.¡±


    ¡°What!?¡± the woman stopped suddenly in the prison corridor.


    ¡°You heard me correctly,¡± Boldbounty said, his boots clacking on the polished stone floor as he turned to look at the priestess with a frown. ¡°We¡¯re not just fighting a dangerous pirate, Sister, but a god, as well.¡±


    ¡°How do you know?¡±


    ¡°Scott made it clear she would be selling out no mortals or gods. I had my suspicions as to why the Sea Witch only sunk ships at night, but I think this explains it.¡±


    ¡°Well this is bad news.¡±


    ¡°Not wholly. At least we know if she has any big plans, they will have to occur after sunset.¡±


    ¡°Wow, what a blessing,¡± the priestess said, exasperated. ¡°Have you ever fought a god before, High Sergeant?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Boldbounty said shrugging. ¡°But I wrestled a four-armed syzzyth. Same sort of thing, I¡¯m sure.¡±


    ¡°Sorry to interrupt, Sister, High Seargeant,¡± a young paladin called from the doorway at the far end of the prison corridor. ¡°High sergeant, there¡¯s a gold slip claimant at the front.¡±


    ¡°So give him his geld and thank him,¡± the priestess said matter of factly.


    ¡°No disrespect, sister, but I think the High Sergeant will want to speak with him, actually.¡±


    ¡°By your leave, ma¡¯am,¡± Boldbounty said, nodding to the priestess. ¡°How many arms does he have, m¡¯boy?¡±


    ¡°Uh, two, Sergeant.¡±


    Boldbounty looked back at the priestess with mock relief as he walked to the door. She rolled her eyes and began walking the opposite direction. Boldbounty and the young paladin began making their way to the front of the chapel.


    ¡°Does he not have his coupons?¡± Boldbounty asked as they walked.


    ¡°He has them,¡± the paladin said, nodding. ¡°That is what¡¯s so strange, Sergeant.¡±


    Finally, the paladin pushed through the mahogany double doors into the main entrance of the chapel. The entry hall was a grand rotunda that climbed up three floors to lead to the dormitories for those dispatched to the chapel. Paintings and bronze statues adorned the white stone walls of the chapel¡¯s hall.


    But none of the ornaments or architecture caught Boldbounty¡¯s eye at the moment, even though he often made a point of appreciating the craftsmanship of the room. Today, at the other end of a large, dense wooden counter with several administrative personnel sitting in nervous confusion, was a tall man.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    The man was wearing an oversized, extremely decorative robe with the hood in a pile on his shoulders. The cloak was a dark coffee color with intricate black designs stitched all around the cuffs and across the chest. The man¡¯s shaved head was several shades darker than the cloak, giving away that he was originally from the southern flatlands of Gavundar. Very far from the Church of the Will chapel in Dawnbreak.


    ¡°Hello, sir,¡± Boldbounty said with a friendly wave as he approached the stranger. ¡°I am High Sergeant Boldbounty. What can we do for you today?¡±


    ¡°Nice to meet you, High Sergeant,¡± the man replied with a deep and smooth voice. It was the voice of someone who could teach you hundreds of things, but only if you asked. ¡°I am here to claim my gold slips.¡± He gestured to a neat, surprisingly tall stack of golden papers on the counter.


    Boldbounty picked the first slip from the stack and began to read. A grin began to form as he moved to the second one. And he could not stifle his laughter when he looked at the third and fourth. SevenThree more slips were on the counter, but he had seen enough.


    ¡°So, according to these slips you spent a year escorting Church personnel through the Scorched Cities?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s correct, High Sergeant.¡±


    ¡°What may I call you?¡± Boldbounty asked, holding his hand out to shake.


    ¡°My name is Cayd.¡±


    ¡°Well, Cayd, follow me, if you would. Private, please do not worry about his payment just yet. I will let you know how to handle our friend, here.¡±


    Boldbounty and Cayd made small talk as they walked through the chapel to a second floor courtyard on the roof above the chapel¡¯s dining hall. The courtyard was a gift from the Verdant, with a druid stationed in the chapen to ensure the grasses and trees were as green and lush as they possibly could be, while also using the Verdant Stage as a communications tool for Church and Druids alike. Small ponds and fountains filled with tiny fish invited chirping birds. In the center of the courtyard, a stone table flanked by stone benches were waiting for the acquaintances.


    Boldbounty gestured for Cayd to sit across from him at the stone table, as he reached for a dark-stained wooden box on the side of the table.


    ¡°Your chapel is beautiful,¡± Cayd said, looking around at the white walls and blue-tiled roofs of towers and parapets that stuck up over the trees.


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s not mine. There¡¯s a priestess downstairs who¡¯s truly in charge. Her office is in the prison corridor if you need some evidence to her personality.¡± Boldbounty and Cayd shared a laugh as the paladin opened the small box of masterfully metal cast Divine Intervention chips. He plucked one of them from the collection.


    On one face was the crest of the chapel, a priestess¡¯s habit with the sun rising over it, and on the other side was a turtle, its shell seeming to be a map of Kraagheim. ¡°Did you happen to see Kraag during your trips through the Scorched Cities?¡±


    ¡°Never up close,¡± Cayd said. ¡°But from a distance. It can be quite unsettling for a mountain to end up somewhere you did not leave it.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I hear you,¡± Boldbounty said, dropping the coin back into the box and fishing for another. ¡°I feel a lot of people on our side of the world take for granted that we have an elder god stomping around. You would not even guess how many people up in The Throne or over at Duskfall have never seen our titanic friend.¡±


    ¡°Well that is a shame,¡± Cayd said. ¡°Although, I have never been to Loamy back home.¡±


    Boldbounty finally found the coin he was looking for. He set it down on the stone table, god¡¯s crest up. On the coin was a skull engulfed in flames. ¡°Mister Cayd, do you know the story of how those cities came to be scorched?¡±


    ¡°Only vaguely,¡± Cayd admitted. ¡°We do not talk much about it in Gavundar.¡±


    ¡°Well, the string of events that birthed the Wroth is long and complex, but a large portion of it was when Gavundar and Talnorel readily began to communicate almost a century ago. The blended magics of the folks across the ocean were shocking and novel to the purists we have over here.


    ¡°The Church of the Will was quite fearful of it, especially after the Duskfall rebellion was such a disaster. Yet we bit our tongues. We warned about the dangers of malpracticing magic, but there was a lot of eagerness to share and learn. For so many people, the exchange was a positive and beautiful thing, but for one man it was a weapon in the making.¡±


    Boldbounty took a slow breath. ¡°Sixty years ago, a young man named Dorvan developed a school of magic that blended red and blue. Mortal emotion and mortal will. He tossed faith and logic aside to power his spells.¡±


    Cayd grimaced at the thought and Boldbounty nodded.


    ¡°It worked just as well as you imagine. His followers called themselves the Wrath Liches, and they specialized in flames. Large, loud, liquid flames that would pour over the congregations of their cult filling them with what he called ¡®the heat.¡¯ They hated and seethed and openly raged against those who spoke out against them.


    ¡°Before long, and before anyone even realized that we had a problem on our hands, Dorvan and his liches had total control of three cities in the southeast of Talnorel. They installed their own laws and society, and held visitors and traders to their impossibly high standards. People died.¡±


    ¡°How many?¡± Cayd asked as compassionately as he could.


    ¡°No one knows. But it was not long before the stench of burning corpses and the black smoke of torched land drove the academics of Duskfall, the Church of the Will, Kraag¡¯s Host, and Talnorel¡¯s Grove together. The four parties each sent an ambassador to Dorvan¡¯s audience chambers to try and learn something of what was going on within those infernal halls.


    ¡°One of the ambassadors returned, missing a tongue, but with the charred skulls of the other three. So the armies were gathered. And before the siege could even begin, Dorvan did the unthinkable. The fires burned for weeks and the alliance moved from warmaking to damage control as they tried to save as many people as they could, but by the end of it, Dorvan was all that remained.


    ¡°Sitting atop a blackened throne made of the bodies of his closest devotees, Dorvan¡¯s spark of greatness had ignited. He was ascended. And now he¡¯s a damned coin in this box and everyone knows his name. They speak it with disdain and hatred. Yet here he is.¡±


    ¡°Wow,¡± Cayd said, looking down at the coin. ¡°I appreciate you telling me that story.¡±


    ¡°So,¡± Boldbounty said, slowly allowing himself to smile. ¡°You marched our men and women through one of the most feared and hated areas in this world with no compensation outside of a promise we don¡¯t always intend to keep. So I am inclined to think that maybe this was not a favor. Something more like an audition?¡±


    Cayd grinned. ¡°You know, we have a saying in Gavundar. Smart as Duskfall, sly as the Throne! You are a clever man, Boldbounty.¡±


    ¡°Well Mr. Cayd, that is clearly a Gavundar saying. The priests here couldn¡¯t sneak a mouse past a blind old woman.¡±


    The two shared a laugh before Cayd cleared his throat. ¡°I wanted to prove that I could be trusted, High Sergeant.¡±


    ¡°Well, I feel we are well on our way to trusting you, Cayd. What do you need our trust for?¡±


    ¡°For information. I¡¯m looking for someone. A former court magician for the Emperor. He is here in Talnorel and I need to find him as soon as possible.¡±


    Boldbounty frowned. ¡°Mister Cayd, may I ask if you have a family?¡±


    Cayd paused. ¡°I do not.¡±


    ¡°I have a wife. Three kids, as well. Two daughters and a son. My oldest daughter wants to cook. Open a little corner restaurant. My son, for some reason, wants to be an undertaker. He says the headstones are pretty. We live just outside of this city, actually.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s very lucky that your family is nearby.¡±


    ¡°That it is! But I mention them because you see here what I am responsible for when I am in my armor.¡± Cayd gestured at the chapel around them before lowering his hand to his heart. ¡°I wanted to give you a peek at what I am responsible for outside of it. So, Mister Cayd. As a warrior of the Church of the Will and as a husband and father, before I can trust you, I must ask you: who should I fear more? The man you are searching for? Or you?¡±


    Cayd paused for a long moment. He looked at the coin of Dorvan the Wroth, into the sad eyes of High Sergeant Boldbounty, then up to the clear sky above them. ¡°Him.¡±


    Boldbounty suddenly stood. ¡°That¡¯s good enough for me, sir! Now, for intelligence? You have come to the right place. Gavundar thinks our priests sneaky? Just wait until you hear them gossip. If the man you are looking for has even spoken to a friend of a friend of a friend, we will find him.


    ¡°Until we can seek him out, though, I was hoping you could make yourself at home on my team!¡±


    Cayd jokingly narrowed his eyes. ¡°Are you offering me a job, High Sergeant?¡±


    Boldbounty laughed heartily. ¡°What do you think of pirates and ocean gods, Mister Cayd?¡±

 Bleedingheart Scene VI

    Shiner stomped through the front door of the Back City mission and invited in the sound of falling rain. A thin golden aura over his body kept him dry and warm as he patrolled the building.


    ¡°Nothing to report, Sammy,¡± he said cheerfully. ¡°Unless you want to remind Brother Nathan he lives amongst the downtrodden.¡±


    ¡°Nothing to report, aye,¡± Sam said, lifting a pen to write a stock phrase in the mission¡¯s front desk night log. ¡°Outdoor patrolman returned, observed nothing to report,¡± he said out loud as Shiner made his way around the welcome desk.


    Sam did not mind these late-night duties of manning the front desk just as Shiner had been on his arrival to the mission. When the weather was nice or there were no reported incidents, the front desk was manned by a lone paladin or priest. It gave Sam time to be alone with his thoughts.


    During poor conditions or after an unsettled day with the protestors outside, the watch would be covered by two paladins, and since Shiner and Sam were the lowest ranking paladins in the small mission of only fifteen, that meant the two of them.


    The cold, midwinter rains had been falling for three days straight, so Sam and Shiner had all but migrated to nocturnal life, filling the night log with meaningless scripted lines until dawn when they could finally leave to get breakfast. Then it was time to sleep as much as the daylight would allow before getting to it again the next night.


    Sam had to dab the pen several times to get a suitable period to appear on the paper. He reached down into one of the drawers to find three unopened ink horns. He uncorked the small vial and began writing.


    ¡°Ink horn empty. Replaced from drawer beneath desk. Two replacement vials remain.¡±


    ¡°I hate that you always say what you¡¯re writing in that damned book,¡± Shiner grumbled. It was the part of the night where he began to get restless, but Sam had a remedy.


    ¡°Hey, Shiner, there¡¯re a couple peaches in my bag over there if you want one.¡±


    Shine leapt to his feet hurried to the canvas messenger bag. ¡°Sammy Bleedingheart, a true hero! How¡¯d you know I was starving.¡±


    Sam turned to look flatly at Shiner as he fished for one of the peaches. ¡°What?¡± he asked just before taking a large bite.


    ¡°You¡¯re becoming obnoxious. If I did not have a snack for you, you¡¯d probably start a fight.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t fight you,¡± Shiner said, returning to his seat. ¡°Brother Nathan still needs you for community outreach, what with all the Throne experience you have!¡±


    Sam laughed at the remark. He had been ordered to the mission for his cultural knowledge of the throne. Shortly after his arrival, Sam discovered the entire crew of the mission was from the southern half of the March. Not a single person came from anywhere north of Crossroads.


    As he met with the strategic and operational leadership of the mission, a lofty priest named Brother Nathan, and a young paladin officer, Lieutenant Braver respectively, they had assured him his street smarts would be utilized.


    So far, Sam had not been ordered to do anything outside of the mission. He had only left for meals and to visit his family.


    ¡°The Church appreciates your decision to not fight me, Corporal.¡±


    ¡°Log it,¡± Shiner said with a wink. ¡°Is it dawn yet? I can¡¯t tell with all the clouds.¡±


    ¡°Not even close. Why don¡¯t you work the log a bit? Give you something to think about.¡±


    Shiner sulked. ¡°I didn¡¯t give my name to think, Sammy! I am an armored construct! A Will-empowered warhammer-swinging siege engine.¡±


    At that moment, the room rumbled with a sudden crash of a Paladin through the front door. With his entrance, cries and curses came spilling from the figure of a man being pulled along. A gleaming golden chain of magic from the paladin¡¯s hand wrapped several times around his wrists. The prisoner was in a rough-for-wear crimson coat, with a full face mask sewn into its hood. Eye holes were crudely cut into it, one larger that the other. The whole coat smelled at once of moisture and soot, and even though it was still dripping wet, there were several large holes burned in it.


    Sam frowned at the crimson color. The man was a wrath lich.


    ¡°Damn you! And Damn the Dreamer! Where are the elder gods when we need them, huh? Napping! That¡¯s where!¡± The man was crying as he taunted his captors.


    ¡°Corporal, need to log an arrest,¡± the paladin said with a harsh tone. His attitude seemed aimed more at the prisoner than Sam. He was one of the older, yet low ranking Vanguard Paladins that filled out the more aggressive ranks of the Back City mission. Jaded by the grimy environment and frustrated by the lack of opportunity, men like this were usually sent to patrol the streets after dark. If no other reason was suitable, it was because they were angry enough to put up a fight if something did go wrong.


    ¡°Right, your name?¡± Sam asked, doing his best to ignore the continued cries from the lich.


    ¡°Private Grim,¡± he replied flatly, yanking the chain to hush the captive. Sam chuckled a bit, glad that the shrieks from the lich covered it.


    ¡°We will have to discuss the circumstances of the capture in detail, but his arrival is logged,¡± Sam read off of a crumpled, dusty, and overall not often used instruction slip on the inner cover of the log book.Stolen story; please report.


    ¡°Aye,¡± Private Grim muttered. ¡°He wasn''t the only one out there. There were three or four. They scattered when I showed up about a block east. On Breadbox, or maybe Gallup Square? Hey, where were you and your friends?¡± he asked the lich.


    The lich looked up at Grim, took a deep breath, and suddenly, liquid flame sparked into view, churning around the mouth area of the mask. Sam and Shiner leapt to their feet and Grim glowered.


    ¡°No you don¡¯t, friend,¡± he said, twisting the chain around his wrist, and wipping it hard. The lich was pulled downward, and Grim was ready. He lifted his knee to meet the lich¡¯s face. There was a crack and the flames dissipated, leaving the lich whimpering and curling into a ball on the floor.


    ¡°Anyway,¡± Grim said, looking back at the two desk workers. ¡°Don¡¯t know where the others ran off to. One of you two should go take a peak.¡±


    ¡°Stay here and wake up the mission, I¡¯ll check,¡± Shiner muttered. His playfulness was gone as he sidestepped the prisoner and grabbed his warhammer and shield from the floor next to the door. He looked back at Sam nervously as the golden aura covered him and he stepped out into the rain.


    ¡°Bleedingheart, what is happening?¡± a sleepy woman asked in the doorway. Sister Maribel, the attendant to Brother Nathan, was still in her nightgown with a plush robe over. Her right hand was behind her back.


    ¡°Grim¡¯s made an arrest. Wrath Liches out in the street and a few of them escaped. Shiner went to check on it.¡±


    ¡°Alone?¡±


    ¡°Well I was going to wake the mission.¡±


    ¡°No, no, you¡¯re fine. Shiner¡¯s an idiot,¡± she said, revealing that in her right hand was her golden casting scepter. Maribel was a studied interrogator. A priest trained in using the Will for combat in ways more creative and cunning than a paladin. The look of frustration and fear on her face sent a chill down Sam¡¯s spine. Maribel rushed out of the door as quickly as Shiner had.


    Sam pulled open a small drawer on the very end of the welcome desk to find a small handbell. He stopped for a moment, putting aside his worry for Shiner and Maribel, focusing on the Will instead.


    ¡°Please, let me warn my allies of the danger,¡± he muttered, focusing on his faith. He shook the bell, which silently began to glow gold. The glow grew brighter and brighter, until, like a drop of water, it dripped out of the bell. The glowing orb fell slightly before catching in the air and shooting straight up toward the ceiling. There, began to shriek an alarm in the form of a choir singing an aria before zooming through the door Maribel had left open.


    The aria was omnipresent even at the other end of the building. Sam nervously watched the front door. The singing was drowning out every other sound. Even the constant patter of rain that had been the soundtrack to the past few nights at the desk could not be heard.


    ¡°Corporal, why the alarm?¡± Lieutenant Braver¡¯s entrance to the lobby had been masked by the alarm. The young man looked tired, his eyes bloodshot and underlined by dark circles. He noticed the prisoner lying at Private Grim¡¯s feet, a small splash of blood spreading from his masked face. ¡°Ah, I see.¡±


    ¡°There was a small group outside, sir,¡± Grim said, giving the chain another tug. The lich shuddered.


    ¡°Corporal Shiner and Sister Maribel went to look for the ones that escaped,¡± Sam explained


    The Lieutenant sighed. ¡°Let me get my armor. Is Brother Nathan up yet?¡±


    ¡°I have not seen him, sir. Are you okay?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± he replied. ¡°Just not sleeping well.¡±


    ¡°I think Corporal Shiner and the Sister have this covered, sir.¡±


    ¡°Lieutenant Braver! Why is your paladin sounding the alarm?¡± Brother Nathan¡¯s voice spilled from the hall behind the lieutenant as he yelled over the wailing.


    ¡°There¡¯s been an arrest, Brother. It is being investigated.¡±


    ¡°Funny, because I see you standing, not investigating.¡±


    The Lieutenant looked at Sam, embarrassed. Brother Nathan was much older than Lieutenant Braver, but by Church rules, where chapels would be run by priests and priestesses, missions fall under the purview of the highest ranking paladin. Brother Nathan did not take kindly to taking instruction from a man less than half his age, and as a result, worked to make every hour of Braver¡¯s day a nightmare.


    The glowing orb from the bell shrieked back into the lobby, silencing Brother Nathan. It whipped around loudly for a moment before rushing back into the bell.


    ¡°Well well well,¡± he said, looking on the wrath lich¡¯s pathetic personage. ¡°You know you could have just made friends with us to get invited inside.¡± Brother Nathan laughed out loud at his own joke.


    ¡°Listen to the jokes from the Dreamer¡¯s priest. All the way down here in the Dreamer¡¯s excrement,¡± the lich sputtered from the floor.


    Brother Nathan¡¯s face fell at the insult. ¡°You would be wise to shut your mouth. Private Grim, take him to the holding cell.¡±


    Grim looked past Brother Nathan at Lieutenant Braver. ¡°Sir?¡±


    Braver¡¯s breath caught. He could almost feel Brother Nathan¡¯s anger flaring. ¡°Please, Private, to the holding cell.¡±


    ¡°I will have to talk to him about that little power play Private Grim just made,¡± Brother Nathan said to Sam, though Sam was positive it was more for Lieutenant Braver. ¡°This is my mission after all, you know? Even you armored brutes should heed my orders.¡±


    Sam looked over Brother Nathan¡¯s shoulder to see Lieutenant Braver looking down at the floor, shaking his head.


    ¡°I mean,¡± Sam said, unsure of himself. He looked down at the log book and absently began writing something about the explosion. ¡°The holding cell is staffed by the paladin¡¯s, right? He was probably just asking permission.¡±


    Brother Nathan said nothing for a moment, and then left without a word to Sam or to Braver. After he departed, Lieutenant moved over to the desk.


    ¡°Please, watch it, Sam,¡± he said frankly. ¡°Grim gets away with it because he¡¯s been here for a quite some time. I do not need him chasing out any more of my paladins.¡±


    ¡°More?¡±


    Braver half-smiled. ¡°I mean, there¡¯s something to be said when you are the mission with the most transfer requests on the continent, right?¡±


    Sam looked concerned as Braver started to frown.


    ¡°Just, be careful. My signature is on the bottom of the paperwork, but Brother Nathan¡¯s been playing the game longer than you or I have been alive.¡±


    ¡°Then maybe he¡¯ll know what I¡¯m supposed to write in this stupid book about arresting Wrath Liches,¡± Sam said, searching for levity.


    Braver laughed. ¡°I will ask him when he calls me to his office to yell at me about you two. Not to mention his administrative assistant running out into the night with a paladin to chase criminals. It¡¯s all very unsightly,¡± the Lieutenant said jovially, yet exhausted by the workplace drama.


    On cue, Brother Nathan¡¯s voice came from the hallway. ¡°Braver! My office!¡±

 The Carpenter Scene IV

    Kait allowed the streamwater to twist and twirl around her hand. She channeled the fluidity and flexible nature of the stream and allowed herself to empathize with it. Her shoulders rounded. Her muscles loosened. She had not realized how tight her body was from the days of walking and she welcomed the calming cool of the stream.


    ¡°There you are!¡± Sarah¡¯s voice came softly from the brush on the bank of the river. The tomboyish woman was wearing a loose fitting button down shirt that looked far too big for her along with a billowing pair of cotton shorts. Though the shorts fell to her knees, the shirt almost hid them.


    ¡°Is that Benji¡¯s shirt?¡± Kait asked chuckling.


    Sarah sighed. ¡°It is. None of my other things are clean,¡± she said, holding up a wicker basket of soiled clothing. ¡°Where did you get those clothes? I¡¯m very jealous.¡±


    Kait looked down. Her top was actually just a long loop of fabric that she intricately wrapped around her body, and her pants were wide-bottomed, loose fitting silk trousers. ¡°I made them myself, actually. Do you want to know how?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve got the finger dexterity of a snail, but I will try anything.¡± Sarah tossed the basket down next to Kait¡¯s own container of laundry. ¡°I¡¯m glad I finally got you by yourself. I wanted to know how you were doing.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Kait asked, looking back down into the water, dipping the tips of her fingers.


    ¡°That night we met? You were pretty upset with Matt back at the Broken Bough.¡±


    Kait smiled. ¡°I reacted. Felt more than thought, you know? I¡¯m doing much better, thank you for asking.¡±


    ¡°I just don¡¯t want you thinking we¡¯re bad people,¡± Sarah muttered as she began poking through the laundry.


    ¡°I mean, you¡¯re thieves,¡± Kait said, looking at Sarah over her shoulder. There was a moment of tension before she winked playfully. ¡°I talked it over with Matt. A lot, actually. It was wrong of me to judge you all so quickly. He explained just what kind of trouble his father had gotten us into and he said that you all had trouble of your own.¡±


    ¡°He isn¡¯t lying about that. Did he tell you our story?¡±


    ¡°No, no details,¡± Kait said breezily as she cupped her hand and drew up some of the water. She let it slide between her fingers and it seemed to run slower than natural, until it finally stopped.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯ll give you details on the Crew¡¯s mysterious past if you tell me how you do that stuff.¡±


    Kait laughed. ¡°A fair trade, I suppose. Did you not learn about magic in school?¡±


    ¡°Well, I only made it to my second year before I was too poor.¡±


    ¡°Too poor?¡± Kaitlyn looked shocked and confused.


    ¡°Hey! You first. No questions until you explain that,¡± Sarah gestured to the unmoving cylinder of water as she sat beside Kait and dipped her toes into the stream.


    Kait¡¯s face scrunched up and she looked back at the stream¡¯s water. ¡°So, you know the four branches of the mind, right? Emotion, logic, faith, and will?¡±


    ¡°Right, and each one is bound to a magic. You do red magic, so you use emotion, right?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right. Red magic is all about empathy. We learn from a young age how to meditate and reach a state of natural empathy. It¡¯s sort of like asking how the world around you is feeling.¡±


    ¡°Can you do that with people?¡±


    Kait shrugged. ¡°People are difficult.¡± She paused, then corrected herself. ¡°Well, living things are difficult. They have logic to complicate the way they feel. Emotion is easier to understand and manipulate when there is no logic involved.¡± Kait frowned slightly at the dourness of her own words, but that made them no less true.


    ¡°So you empathize with the non-living stuff around us?¡± Sarah pointed at the water Kait was manipulating in her fingers. ¡°What is the water feeling?¡±


    ¡°Well, water of all types has one thing in common, openness and receptiveness. But it can build confidence in larger volumes. Oceans are brave, tricky, and will usually disregard anything smaller.


    ¡°Streams, on the other hand,¡± Kait said as she doubled the volume of the hovering liquid effortlessly. ¡°They are much more flexible, and much easier to influence. All I have to do is introduce myself and empathize with the emotion of the stream, develop some trust, and,¡± she gave the cylinder a tug, and suddenly, the base disconnected itself from the stream. A churning orb of water was floating around her open hand. ¡°I can give the water suggestions and instructions, and it will listen. It¡¯s all about trust and respect.¡±


    ¡°And you can do that with anything?¡± Sarah asked, amazed. She had seen red magic used, often by street performers or beggars, but had never heard it explained.


    ¡°Anything non-living. Does that satisfy my end of the deal?¡±


    Sarah chuckled. ¡°I suppose it does! So, I suppose I should tell you some story about my past?¡±


    ¡°And don¡¯t forget Jack and Benji!¡±


    ¡°And Jack and Benji. Do you know where Matt is from originally?¡± Sarah asked, splashing lightly in the stream.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°Well, we met in Elmsmith.¡±


    ¡°Our families¡¯ friendships go back generations. We are all originally from Berkley. Originally meaning our grandparents.¡±


    Kait was flabbergasted. ¡°Really? Berkley? One of the Scorched Cities?¡±


    ¡°The very same! Benji¡¯s and my grandparents were scholars, and Jack¡¯s grandmother was the Justicar at the abbey there.¡±


    ¡°Wow, I did not know I was among such royalty,¡± Kait teased.


    ¡°Do not worry! A crown is useless when your throne is burned to ash. Jack¡¯s family, as you can well imagine, did not survive Dorvan¡¯s original takeover, and the rest of us fled to the Elmsmith area.¡±


    ¡°What about Matt¡¯s family?¡±


    ¡°Well, they were carpenter¡¯s then, too. Skilled as anyone. The Grandfather Carpenter and Matt¡¯s father were commissioned to build the pews for the abbey.¡±


    ¡°I never knew that,¡± Kait mused.


    ¡°They were always a modest bunch. It made it easier to hide their tempers,¡± Sarah muttered. ¡°Anyway, in the Elmsmith area, our families all did their best to find their footing, but only the Carpenters took root well. As it turns out, when all you can do is read and teach, there¡¯s not much work to be found in a farm town populated by refugees. Though I¡¯m sure if we had been able to tough it out a bit longer, there would have been use for a school or two. But, eventually, amidst all the despair and sorrow, the four of us, one by one, were born. Growing up with no heritage, no extended family, and a bunch of depressed parents, we had to make our own fun.¡±


    ¡°Is this when the Crew started?¡±


    ¡°Sure is. We never did anything too bad when we were younger. But we would meet in the middle of the night. We all knew each other from our parents¡¯ friendship, and while the adults despaired, we drew up these grand schemes that culminated in a dirty word painted on a door or a smashed window.¡± Sarah laughed at her memories. ¡°It did not get too bad until Matt¡¯s dad¡¯s habits got out of hand.¡±


    Kaitlyn looked up suddenly, and the orb lost its stability. ¡°Habits?¡±


    ¡°He was a gambler, you know?¡±


    ¡°I hadn¡¯t heard.¡± Kaitlyn was beginning to look worried.


    Sarah felt sick to her stomach, and she looked for a long moment for the right words before she finally opted for the truth. ¡°Well, he was avid. Far beyond his means, though. Mrs. Carpenter was a sickly little lady, and she was too ill to work. There came a point where his bets surpassed the family¡¯s capacity for commission, and he was gambling more often that he was whittling.¡±


    ¡°So Matt had to steal to pay the debts.¡±


    ¡°And feed his family,¡± Sarah said softly. She looked up, relieved to see the orb was water was back under her control.


    ¡°What about you, Jack, and Benji?¡±


    ¡°We were in it for the fun. And the rebellion. We saw our parents get nearly destroyed by this wonderful little town, and we hated it. And of course, that little town was the lense we observed the world through. But as we got better at it, it became more about the sport.¡±


    ¡°So this heist against the Church?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s nothing against The Dreamer or The Throne. It¡¯s just the challenge that has us attracted. That and you and Matty. Especially after what the Tarley¡¯s did to his poor mother.¡±


    Kaitlyn looked confused again, and Sarah soured. ¡°What do you mean? Matt told me his mother came down ill.¡±


    ¡°He was probably embarrassed for his father. The Tarley¡¯s went to shake his dad on unsettled debts, but there was a convenient out of town commission. Matt tried to hide it from his father so he could go alone, do the job, and make the money, but somehow, his dad learned and invited himself.


    ¡°Neither of the boys were home when the Tarley¡¯s came knocking. No one knows exactly what happened. We barely recognized the body when we found Mrs. Carpenter the next morning.¡±


    ¡°Kraag,¡± Kaitlyn muttered as the orb swole with her sorrow.


    ¡°So,¡± Sarah said, reaching for her dirty laundry. ¡°I guess this is sort of two-fold for you. Now you know where we come from, and you know why it is so important we get the Tarley¡¯s off your family.¡±


    ¡°I understand,¡± Kaitlyn said with a nod. ¡°I do not want to raise my child in the shadow of Matt¡¯s father¡¯s wrongdoing.¡±


    ¡°Child?¡± Sarah asked, looking down to Kait¡¯s belly.


    Kait giggled. ¡°No, no. Not yet. But we have been trying. Since we met up with you all, actually. Matt has been in a very good mood. I wanted to thank you again, by the way. He keeps telling me that I¡¯m the most important part of the plan now. He said he needed me. He had never said that before.¡±


    Suddenly, Sarah stood. ¡°Dammit, I forgot my soap back at the camp. I¡¯ll be right back, Kait.¡±


    ¡°Oh! You can use mine.¡± Kaitlyn held up a pearly white piece of laundry soap.


    ¡°Uh,¡± Sarah looked down, thinking as quickly as she could. ¡°I am sensitive to fragrances, you know? So I have my own special kind. I¡¯ll be right back.¡± Before Kait could say anything more, Sarah was gone.


    At the camp, Jack walked to the small, portable table where Benji and Matt were sitting with a thick cloth bag. ¡°Good news, and bad news, boys!¡± He smiled with his sharp teeth as he tossed the satchel onto the table. The contents of parchment and papers spilled across.


    ¡°Bad news first,¡± Benji said flatly.


    ¡°Nah, good news first!¡± Jack retorted. ¡°The Halcyon Band is confirmed right where I thought it was. It¡¯s tucked away in a crypt under the Happfield Chapel. Our plans can stick!¡±


    ¡°Fantastic,¡± Matt said with a smile. ¡°Nicely done, Jack.¡±


    ¡°Not so fast,¡± Benji added. ¡°Bad news, now.¡±


    ¡°The crypt has been locked for around 250 years. Never entered. Never even unlocked. And no one knows where the key is. Seems like they magicked the damn Halcyon Band in without opening it up.¡±


    ¡°So we pick the look?¡± Matt offered.


    ¡°Enchanted,¡± Jack said, wagging his finger.


    ¡°Then what do we-¡± Benji started to ask before Sarah¡¯s shouting interrupted them.


    ¡°What in Chael¡¯s shitty fields do you think you¡¯re doing, Matthew Carpenter?¡± she spat with rage. Her walk from the stream had allowed her anger to become an avalanche of rage.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Jack asked, shocked at the fury.


    ¡°This bastard is playing his poor wife, and hard.¡±


    Benji looked concerned. ¡°What is he doing to Kait?¡±


    ¡°She didn¡¯t want to help us. You all know. So what does Matthew do? Tells her they¡¯re going to have a baby. Tells her how important she is.¡±


    ¡°Well, we need her to fight any paladin that¡¯s at the chapel,¡± Jack said, trying to retain the civility. ¡°So she is pretty important.¡±


    ¡°Oh, shove off,¡± Sarah barked at Jack. ¡°The girl doesn¡¯t want to be a criminal and he¡¯s playing her just like his dad played his mom.¡± Sarah looked down at Matt, who was glowering at her with a disdain none of them had seen.


    ¡°Sarah,¡± he said, calmly and cooly. ¡°I am not doing anything to keep Kaitlyn here. In fact, she likes the Crew. That is why she stays. And the way you two talk about each other? You have me worried about the security of my marriage.¡±


    Sarah¡¯s two hands smacked against Matt¡¯s collarbone and she shoved him to the ground. Benji was quickly on his feet and gripping Sarah in a tight hug from behind.


    Jack stared in shock at Sarah as Matt, laughing, pulled himself to a seated position. A bruise was already appearing at the corner of his mouth. ¡°Just like old times, huh? Just can¡¯t keep your hands off.¡±


    Not bothering to struggle against Benji¡¯s muscular grip, Sarah spat at Matt. Jack shook his head as he gathered the materials back into the bag and moved toward his tent.


    ¡°Let me go, Benji,¡± Sarah muttered. ¡°I gotta finish my laundry.¡±

 Tides Mistress Scene II

    Three ships bobbed up and down on the swells of the open sea. Far to the west, just below the horizon, the whitecaps of waves breaking over littoral reefs showed the crew of Zora¡¯s fleet how close they were to land. The men and women starved for well-prepared food and thirsted for something that wasn¡¯t brined by sea air or spiked with liquor. But their captain refused. The night before they were set to land at their hidden cove southwest of Dawnbreak was the last anyone had seen of Zora. She had been locked in her quarters since.


    It was a strange turn considering how ecstatic she had been when they discovered and destroyed the remnants of Scott¡¯s fleet. Now, the Church of the Will¡¯s chapel in Dawnbreak was all that stood between them and the city.


    First Mate Johnston stretched as he watched the sun flirt with the surface of the sea. He, like the others, felt restless, but knew better than to rush the Captain. And so he watched with measured breaths as the sun and sea kissed.


    Four seconds of inhale. Four seconds of exhale. This was the moment. Johnston had spent a better portion of his life at sea, and had yet to see the optical illusion named Solanna¡¯s Wink. The bright green flash was something he had heard countless stories about, and doubted its existence until his grandfather urged it was real.


    Moments passed as the sun continued to sink. Then, the final sliver of brilliant light fell beneath the ocean.


    No flash.


    ¡°Another day maybe?¡± Tidus suggested, his sudden voice crashed like a wave against Johnston¡¯s back, nearly startling him over the gunwale.


    ¡°Dammit, Buccaneer!¡±


    ¡°My apologies, Johnston. Where is Zora?¡±


    ¡°Her quarters. She¡¯s been there since we sunk the rest of Scott¡¯s ships. You¡¯ve been scarce, as well.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± the god said with finality. There would be no explanation for the mortal.


    And Johnston knew better than to ask for one. ¡°I suppose you want me to try and get the Captain?¡±


    ¡°If you wouldn¡¯t mind, Mr. Johnston.¡±


    Though Tidus knew the way, he, strangely, respected Zora and her ship enough. He let Johnston lead him to the large, redwood door at the back of the ship, beneath the helm.


    The First Mate¡¯s knuckles rapped against the door. The sound of movement inside was barely heard. ¡°Captain. You have a visitor.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not seeing anyone,¡± Zora replied from behind the door.


    Tidus nodded lightly to Johnston, urging him to give the god and captain a moment alone. The First Mate moved aside. ¡°Zora, it¡¯s me.¡±


    ¡°No, really? A visitor in the middle of the ocean is the God of the Sea?¡± Zora¡¯s depression did little to blunt her attitude.


    Tidus soured. ¡°And here everyone on the boat thinks you¡¯re depressed.¡±


    ¡°Just go, Tidus.¡±


    The god sighed and looked down at the base of the door. The gap was small, but far from water proof. With a flicker, Tidus¡¯s body shifted from opaque to translucent, and finally became completely transparent as he transformed into briny sea water and sloshed under the door.


    Inside her quarters, Zora was groaning while watching the puddle force its way under the door. ¡°I told you to go,¡± she hissed at it.


    The puddle gathered, and a hand thrust upward, reaching for the floor just outside of the liquid¡¯s surface tension. A second joined it, and Tidus pushed himself up and out of the floor as if he were climbing out of a pool. The puddle shrunk behind him and the water moved to form his body. When he was fully returned to his corporeal form, he looked around the room. ¡°So luxurious.¡± He reached out for a sterling tea kettle on a small table near him.


    ¡°What do you want?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s about time I got into your room.¡± Tidus grinned coyly.


    ¡°Stop.¡± Zora crossed the room, grabbed the kettle from Tidus¡¯s hands, and forced it back to the platter. ¡°What do you want?¡±


    Tidus took a long look at Zora. Her eyes were harshly bloodshot. The hand she had used to snatch the kettle back had each of its fingernails chewed down with small scabs at the beds of the nails. ¡°What is happening to you?¡±This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    ¡°Nothing.¡± Zora turned her back to Tidus and walked to her bed. It was made with a plush comforter, but was perfectly smooth and had a thin film of dust. She had not slept in it recently.


    ¡°You look awful,¡± Tidus said softly.


    ¡°You always know just what to say.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m being honest because I¡¯m worried, Zora.¡±


    ¡°You? Worried? You only worry about one thing. Being off this plane before the sun comes up so you don¡¯t get caught red handed.¡±


    Tidus rested his hand next to the platter to steady himself in his anger. ¡°Where, exactly did you learn to talk to a god like this?¡±


    Zora spun on her heels, arcs of lightning surged down her limbs and the burning candles around the room surged in intensity. Tidus looked down at his hand near the silver. Small bolts of electricity arced from his hand to the platter. Wisps of steam rose from his fingers as they began to boil away in front of his eyes.


    ¡°You think you earn respect, do you? A womanizer that bubbles up from the sea when his wife¡¯s back is turned, flirts with some women, kills some men, and dissolves back into the ocean in the morning?¡± Zora barked a laugh. ¡°Please. No one worships you, and hardly anyone even respects you. They make their offerings so you don¡¯t flip their ship looking for whores.¡±


    Outside the cabin, cries and shouts would be heard. Zora¡¯s fury subsided for a moment once she realized there was panic in her crews¡¯ voice. She ran to the large, velvet curtains in the back of her cabin and drew them. Outside was a torrent of water only a few yards off the bow of her ship. Zora looked left and right. She could no longer see her other ships. They were trapped inside of a water spout.


    ¡°Are we done?¡± Tidus asked Zora¡¯s back. ¡°I reach out to you. Ask you what is wrong. And you lash out at me? I do not ask for your respect, so much as I ask you respect your crew, Zora.¡±


    She turned to look at Tidus momentarily furious that he would do something so cruel, but then her shame weighed her eyes to the floor. ¡°I apologize, Tidus. I haven¡¯t been myself.¡±


    ¡°Frankly, this is very much like you,¡± the god said, strolling over and placing a hand on her shoulder. As he walked, the waterspout outside shrunk back into the sea. ¡°Just far too much of you. No professionalism. What is on your mind?¡±


    ¡°Dreams I¡¯ve been having.¡±


    ¡°Since we sunk Scott?¡±


    ¡°Longer before. It has been years But they haven¡¯t stopped these past few days. It has grown so close. Something is chasing me.¡±


    ¡°What is?¡±


    Zora looked at Tidus in the eyes. She was nervous to bring up the shadowy sea creature. On one hand, there was no way these recurring nightmares and hallucinations were normal. But on the other hand, there was no way to prove it was strange to another person. ¡°A monster. Underwater.¡±


    ¡°Zora, my dear.¡± Tidus raised his hand to her cheek as Zora teared up. ¡°I am the ocean. How could I let it harm you?¡±


    With a shudder, Zora raised her hand to his. ¡°I know. But why am I still being bothered by the nightmares even when I can count on you?¡± She leaned in to Tidus, but the sea god leaned away.


    ¡°It could be your conscience,¡± Tidus suggested. The words came slowly and measured, as though he did not want to give credence to the idea. She scoffed in response, but Tidus remained straight faced.


    ¡°You mean to take Dawnbreak,¡± Tidus said, walking back to the table, tapping it nervously.


    ¡°I do.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°A base of operations. It¡¯s been my dream, you know. To settle in with something I have earned.¡±


    ¡°Earned with piracy,¡± Tidus said, chuckling.


    ¡°I mean, I¡¯m not good at much else,¡± Zora shrugged.


    ¡°I could offer you the entire sea, and yet your dream is on land?¡±


    Zora¡¯s breath caught.


    ¡°You remember how we met, correct?¡±


    ¡°I appealed,¡± Zora answered slowly.


    ¡°You appealed an appeal like I had not heard before. You offered me so much, Zora. Your ships. Your treasure.¡± He walked  back to Zora and looked her up and down. ¡°Your body. And your heart.¡± He brought his face close to hers. ¡°All for me. So we could pillage together. You love the sea, Zora.¡±


    Zora leaned in for a kiss again, but Tidus stayed just out of reach.


    ¡°Why then, is your dream to leave me?¡±


    A tear finally fell down the pirate¡¯s cheek. The sea god watched it stoically. ¡°Because your nightmares are stronger than your dreams. If your fear is greater than your love, then, Zora, we will address this. We will be taking Dawnbreak. Sooner rather than later.¡±


    ¡°You do not have to help me, Tidus.¡±


    ¡°Anything for you, Zora.¡± Tidus wiped her tear away. ¡°Now, go be with your crew. You have a siege to plan.¡±


    Zora wiped her eyes as Tidus once again turned to water. In the center of the puddle on the floor was a clear crystal the size of an apple. Smile to herself, Zora squatted down and snatched it up. She walked to a chest of drawers and opened a top draw full of crystals just like the one she held. She set the new stone among its sisters and pushed the drawer closed.


    She moved to her coat rack, grabbing her overcoat and hat, and with a deep, trembling breath, she pushed through the door onto the deck of the ship.


    ¡°Enough rest!¡± she called out to her crew. ¡°We will be moving on Dawnbreak before the end of the month, so get your wits back about you! No more whining and complaining. I just gave you all a three day vacation, so I presume we¡¯ll be able to get right back to business!¡±


    A spattering of ¡°yes captain!¡± came from the men and women still out and about in the chilly ocean night with Johnston smiling right in front of her.


    The excitement of the crew took her for a quick ride, yanking her from the doldrums of the past few days. She would out maneuver that beast below her ship. It would break her heart, but for her crew? She would have to make the sacrifice.

 Bleedingheart Scene VII

    In stark contrast to the night shifts behind the mission¡¯s front desk, the day patrols around Back City were a nightmare for Sam. The protests going on around the Back City had actually begun inside The Throne proper. His father had mentioned them a handful times in letters to Sam while he was studying.


    The issue with protesting in the Throne, though, was that the Church was everywhere. And more practically, to live in The Throne, you would need a job. There just was not enough time in the day to work, riot, and relax.


    The Back City was a different story, however. Low employment and low cost of living meant everyone could sacrifice some time out of the day to spit on Sam, or splash buckets of garbage on him as he patrolled. The mission, and its patrolman, was the main target of the protesters¡¯ ire because it stood as extravagance amongst slums and was as unwelcome as an occupying military. And for good reason. Especially when Brother Nathan would go out for ¡°outreach¡± and would claim the Back City resident¡¯s social and economic status were a result of their imperfect devotion to the Dreamer.


    The protesters spent their nights in bed or in taverns, making the plush night watch even more enjoyable when compared to the loud, boisterous day duty. Sam rounded the corner to the main square of Back City and the main entrance to the mission. He was sorrowfully aware of the fact that he was headed out of one trial and into another. Day watch meant Brother Nathan was awake and working inside.


    ¡°Oi, tin soldier!¡± cried a man down the street behind Sam as he planted his foot on the steps to the mission. ¡°Going inside to ask more permission to drag us beggars out of our beds at night? Or are you tired from sightseeing?¡±


    Sam ignored the cries and pushed through the front door of the mission. In the foyer, he took a deep breath. He focused on needing to look presentable within the mission and a golden light surrounded the stains and smears across his armor. Even the mud on his shoes was being burned off by pure gold magic.


    ¡°Welcome back, Corporal,¡± said a gentle female priest behind the desk.


    ¡°Thanks, Sister,¡± Sam grumbled in spite of himself. He hated being so bitter to the desk worker, but the cries of the man outside rang so fresh in his ears, he had trouble being friendly. ¡°I¡¯ve nothing out of the ordinary to report.¡±


    ¡°No better out there?¡±


    ¡°Not yet. Ever since we took in the Wrath Lich, we¡¯ve become kidnappers,¡± Sam mused. ¡°I¡¯m going to go to the study for bit before my next round. Do you need anything from inside?¡±


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t think so, Corporal,¡± she replied as she finished writing in the log. ¡°Thank you for offering!¡±


    Without saying anything more, Sam pushed his way through the door from the lobby to the mission proper. A long hallway containing the guest rooms and leadership offices snaked back and off to the right to the rest of the building behind the lobby.


    Sam moved as quickly and quietly past Brother Nathan¡¯s office as he could. The priest inside was shouting laughter behind a closed door. He momentarily considered how the priest leaders rarely kept their office doors open before turning the corner to see Private Grim moving the mission¡¯s captive from the interrogation room to his holding chamber. Sam stopped himself to allow the pair to move the hallway unhindered.


    ¡°Corporal,¡± Grim said with a nod.


    Sam intended no disrespect when he ignored Grim. He was too distracted when he got his first look at the Wrath Lich unmasked since the man was captured several nights back. Despite the still bruised face from its collision with Grim¡¯s armored kneecap, Sam recognized him. He had grown up with the young man.


    Quickly and without another word, Grim was moving the Wrath Lich aside. The captive did not seem to notice Sam, which was probably for the best. Sam continued down to the study, completely confused.


    Growing up in East Rest meant so much exposure to the Church. School children up there learned of the horrors of Dorvan¡¯s wrath so early, too. What could have happened to that man to turn him to the toxic magics?


    As he mused, Sam wound his way to the study at the back of the mission. A small wooden placard near the door had the word ¡°Library¡± burned into it, but the room only had two tables and three walls of half full bookshelves. As such, the men and women who frequent it refer to it as ¡°the study¡± in a thinly veiled jab at its unimpressive stature. Magical lights kept the room comfortably lit, and though the transition from the brightly lit, white painted halls of the mission to the calm dimness of the study was jarring, Sam felt calmed. And he was pleased to see Sister Maribel sitting at one of the tables.


    In her hands she held a long piece of fabric with brightly colored patterns sewn in. She was studying it the way a child would study their favorite toy, with a wide grin and twinkling eyes.


    ¡°Sister Maribel?¡± Sam called out to her quietly.


    ¡°Oh, hello Corporal!¡± she said looking up. Sam noticed she gently folded the fabric as she addressed him.


    ¡°What have you got there?¡±


    ¡°Oh, this?¡± she said looking down. Then she made sudden eye contact with Sam. ¡°I enjoy fine cloth work.¡±


    Sam paused for a moment. Sister Maribel had never seemed unusual before. But he supposed everyone had their quirks. ¡°Right. It¡¯s nice, I suppose.¡±


    Sister Maribel suddenly relaxed and brushed back her chin length, light brown hair. Sam had not even noticed her tense up. ¡°It really is. A purchase from a trade band! These Back City markets, you know? Did you need something?¡±This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    ¡°Well, I was just saying hello, but,¡± Sam lowered his voice as he sat down at the table across from Maribel. ¡°I saw the Wrath Lich just now. Without his mask.¡±


    ¡°Is that a problem?¡±


    ¡°Well, no. But I had not seen him before now. I knew him.¡±


    Maribel looked quizzically at Sam. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°We grew up on the Rests together. He went to the same school as me. We played on the same street.¡±


    The priestess began to smile, the freckles across the bridge of her nose seemed to turn up to match the curve of her mouth. ¡°Did you now? We may be able to use that, Sam.¡±


    ¡°Use it?¡±


    ¡°Well, cultural outreach. That¡¯s what you¡¯re for, right? You know the city and know the people.¡±


    Sam was taken aback. What started as a confiding of coincidence was turning him into an interrogator. ¡°I have no idea how to handle a prisoner, Sister. And¡­ We were classmates! I don¡¯t...¡± Sam could not continue the thought. He did not want to sound like an apologist.


    Sister Maribel looked down at the cloth again. ¡°Well, I do, Corporal, and no matter how much I stick to my training and stick to protocol, he calls me names, curses me, and tries to cast. I¡¯ve spoken to him four times and I have nothing to show for it. I don¡¯t even know his name.¡±


    ¡°Terrance Berky.¡±


    ¡°Four days work and I couldn¡¯t get that. And you drop it right here. I don¡¯t think we should not tell Brother Nathan, but I think you should talk to Mr. Berky.¡±


    ¡°Sister Maribel, this seems,¡± Sam started, finding himself strangely shamed by the prospect.


    ¡°Against the rules, Corporal?¡± Sister Maribel stood up. ¡°I mean, technically, Brother Nathan has only authorized me to talk to prisoners. But this is Lieutenant¡¯s Mission, is it not? You¡¯re not at the Abbey any more, Sammy.¡± She smiled as she used Shiner¡¯s nickname for him. ¡°I¡¯m going to go get Shiner to help me track down the Berky family. On the way we¡¯ll tell Grim to get Terrance into the interview room with you. If Terrance won¡¯t talk, maybe his dear mother will.¡±


    Maribel handed Sam a wad of folded papers from her pocket. He slowly reached out and took them, but then the priestess left the room without waiting for Sam to respond further. He grumbled at her hardheadedness. Lieutenant Braver had warned him, and Shiner had as well. Though Shiner¡¯s failed courtship of her may have spoiled things.


    The paladin rose from his chair, and paused for a moment, thinking of the priestess at the front desk who was probably expecting him back at some point. Then he made his way to Terrance¡¯s holding cell.


    Sure enough, as he rounded the corner, he saw Sister Maribel and a very sleepy Corporal Shiner walking single-file toward him. Sister Maribel did not even make contact as they passed, but Shiner waved cheerily while yawning. At the far end of the hall, Grim was watching them walk past with interest. As they passed Sam, Grim¡¯s gaze switched targets.


    Too nervous to maintain eye contact, Sam unfolded the papers as he made his way to where Grim was standing.


    Each sheet only had three questions on it with blank space for note taking between them. What is your name? When did you become a Wrath Lich? Does Dorvan have anything to do with these continued protests?


    The blank spaces were still blank despite the creases in the folded sheets running deep and the paper folding easily. She truly did get nowhere with him.


    Sam approached Terrance¡¯s room slowly, peeking down the final hall to make sure Brother Nathan¡¯s door was still shut. Lieutenant Braver¡¯s was wide open, as he had expected, but he could not imagine the Lieutenant being the one who would be upset. With a sigh and a quick daydream about a frustrated and disappointed Sister Maribel, Sam looked at Grim. Grim snorted, like some sort of massive predator. A bear, or a boar, and he turned to knock on the door.


    ¡°Bounce off!¡± Terrance called out. ¡°I just talked to the bitch.¡±


    Grimacing, Sam looked to the key ring beside the door. A bronze eagle fixture in the wall was holding the ring in its beak. Next to the eagle fixture was a large, white silk cloth hanging on a hook. Grim gestured for Sam to keep quiet as he reached past the cloth toward the eagle fixture and it took on a golden glow. He brushed the finger down the eagle¡¯s head, between its eyes, and the beak eased open, dropping the key into his waiting free hand.


    ¡°The cleaning man is in the interview room. You¡¯re going to have to talk to him in his cell,¡± Grim whispered. He worked the lock and pulled the door open, and stepped aside to offer privacy.


    ¡°I said I was not gonna talk to her anymore today!¡± Terrance was sitting on a simple cot, his back to the door. The room was one of the bunk rooms, only stripped of furnishings and amenities to transform it into a prison cell


    ¡°Terrance?¡± Sam called to him.


    The Wrath Lich looked over his shoulder, his intrigued gae studying Sam. ¡°Chael¡¯s breath. Samson Estin? Well, I suppose that ain¡¯t your name now.¡±


    ¡°Bleedingheart,¡± Sam said nodding.


    ¡°Should¡¯ve known a goody little boy like you would get all wrapped up in this,¡± Terrance said, gesturing to the walls and ceiling. ¡°Not the room of course. The Church.¡±


    ¡°I understood. I didn¡¯t expect to see you again, much less wearing crimson.¡±


    ¡°Desperate times, Sam!¡± Terrance said matter of factly.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°The guides are all talking about the storm coming. The poison rooted in our society that will be ripping us apart.¡±


    ¡°And you think it¡¯s the Church of the Will?¡±


    ¡°Well, the Guides don¡¯t think so. But they don¡¯t think you all are ready to handle it either.¡±


    ¡°So why incite the protests?¡±


    ¡°Incite them?¡± Terrance laughed. ¡°The beggars and starving folks don¡¯t need inciting, Sam. They are already plenty pissed at this house and what it stands for. Isolation and elitism.¡±


    ¡°So what were you doing the other night?¡±


    ¡°The only thing we can do, Sam,¡± Terrance said, looking his old friend in the eyes. ¡°Sharing our tools.¡±


    ¡°Wrath magic?¡±


    Terrance suddenly looked past Sam and went wide eyes. He went pale in horror when he realized how much he had just divulged. Friend or not, Sam was a paladin. Sam followed Terrance¡¯s gaze to see an interested Lieutenant Braver standing in the doorway. Grim had never shut the door behind him.


    The room became unbearably hot in a matter of seconds. The heat seemed to concentrate in Sam¡¯s chest, beneath the scar that covered his torso. Licks of fire began to appear floating past his shocked eyes. He turned his head to look at Terrance, but as he did, Lieutenant Braver never left his sight. The paladin officer was across the room in a flash, pulling the white sheet from the hook on the wall as he moved.


    With a flourish, he slung it over Terrance, and golden glyphs suddenly began to shine across the fabric. The temperature returned to normal as quickly as it had risen, and Braver looked up at Sam and Grim, who had stepped into the doorway.


    ¡°Where¡¯s Maribel?¡±


    ¡°Looking for this man¡¯s family,¡± Sam said, confidently, but not without shame. ¡°I grew up with him. I told her his name and she and Shiner are trying to find an address of information.¡±


    ¡°You did great, Sam,¡± the officer said, looking at the Wrath Lich struggling under the warded cloth.  ¡°Unconventional, and a little dangerous, but good. Are you friends with him?¡±


    ¡°Acquaintances is probably more fitting, sir.¡±


    Braver nodded. ¡°So the protestors are being taught magic? That is more than a little troubling.¡±


    Just then, the wail of the front desk alarm filled the Back City mission.

 The Carpenter Scene V

    The Crew was a machine that was perfect and articulate. Jack was well connected and a brilliant strategist. Sarah was outgoing and a great motivator. Benji was strong, yet gentle. They worked brilliantly, if not perpetually on their own. Matt just did not fit in.


    Yet their families had all suffered together. So despite Matt¡¯s temper and the sins of his father and father¡¯s father, the Crew accepted him. There was no room for him to work inside the Crew, and so Matt lashed himself to it where he could, barking orders to plans Jack had made, passing Sarah¡¯s words as his own motivating speech, and demanding Benji protect him at every turn. He fancied himself the leader of the group.


    But there was one trait that all three of them had, yet Matt was better at than any of them. He could lie. And more believable than anyone they had ever met. A sideways glare would communicate to the Crew that Matt demanded absolute obedience to his fictions. Even if it was just barely, Matt¡¯s lies would always keep them out of trouble.


    So when Sarah and Kait returned from the laundry stream and Matt shot his hateful liar¡¯s glare across the group, they knew to continue with business as usual. They pretended as though none of them knew about Matt and Kait trying for a child. They refused to remember Sarah shoving Matt to the ground and attacking him. They did not do anything other than have campfire small talk.


    Kait was still mellow from her time empathizing with the stream and chatting with Sarah, and had no intention of ruining the good feelings, and so though she sensed unease around the camp, she decided not to pry.


    ¡°So, a lock?¡± Matt asked as Jack rustled through his satchel.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Jack said, cheering up when he trusted that nothing would come of the earlier encounter. ¡°Will-enchanted. And no indications that the key is at the chapel.¡±


    ¡°Why would that be?¡± Benji asked. ¡°It is their treasure, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the thing, Ben,¡± Jack said, wagging his finger. ¡°I have a feeling the Halcyon Band is not something the Church of the Will is proud of. I think when we look for our buyer, we should remember that. We may be able to ransom the thing.¡±


    ¡°Do we even know what it does? Why are they so ashamed of it?¡± Matt picked up one of Jack¡¯s documents showing a drawing of an unassuming wristband. The words ¡°Halcyon Band¡± were written in skilled calligraphy across the top of the page.


    ¡°Beats me!¡± Jack said with a shrug. ¡°But they put it behind a lock and forgot about it.¡±


    ¡°Druids,¡± Kait said breezily. She was sitting on a folded blanket outside of her and Matt¡¯s tent, waving her hand to summon a gust of wind that caught the still-wet clothing and hung it in the air to dry.


    Matt looked in her direction, half annoyed, half confused. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°You said the lock was glyph-enchanted. Well, when I was younger, we would always get these jewelry boxes or clothing pieces that were enchanted by gold magic glyphs. You know, from sales of deceased peoples¡¯ properties.¡± She explained her thoughts with a matter-of-fact confidence that she normally did not show Matt, but now that Sarah had opened up to her, Kait felt as though the Crew would support her. She understood how Matt liked to be in charge, but she knew that this could help. ¡°We would always have trouble with them. We would want to repurpose the items, or open them up, or use them in ways they weren¡¯t designed. Gold magic users have a very bad habit of killing utility. A coat that is rainproof could not even be washed once it was worn too thin to be warm anymore. Water just fell off them.


    ¡°So we would visit the druids. They would be able to break the glyphs, and sometimes even rework the materials. Our magic could not do a lick of damage to this stuff, but green magic could make it happen.¡±


    ¡°Where are we going to find any druids?¡± Matt snapped as he watched his friends nod to one another.


    Kait stopped airing the clothing for a moment, letting the garments droop in mid air on nothing but a single breeze necessary to keep them from falling into the dirt. ¡°There¡¯s a grove north of here, outside Crossroads. I have gone to it several times, and we have to go north for the band, right?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± Jack said with a nod. ¡°I think it¡¯s surely worth a shot.¡±


    Matt looked up at Jack, still somewhat confused that his wife was suddenly so eager to help. He had intentionally hidden some of the facts from her to keep her from worrying. He wanted her focused completely on the prospects of their future family. He shot a hurt glance in Sarah¡¯s direction, assuming she was the cause.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    ¡°It is on the way,¡± Benji added.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never talked to druids before,¡± Sarah said. ¡°You think you can get us in good with them, Kait?¡±


    ¡°Well, I doubt they would remember me or anything, but they were always extremely welcoming to the Host. I think I should get us a chance to talk to them at the very least.¡±


    ¡°Does this sound good to you Matt?¡± Jack asked out of courtesy to the self-proclaimed leader of the Crew.


    ¡°Yeah, sure. That¡¯s fine.¡± He said the words shortly, then got up, muttering something about needing a snack and ducked past Kaitlyn and into their tent.


    The Crew let out a breath of relief. Just having Matt present was ratcheting up a tension that none of them truly enjoyed.


    Later that night, once the clothing was dried and put away and the Crew shared dinner around a small campfire, they each returned to their tents. Kait was sitting on the bed spread on the ground, looking at a diagram of the Halcyon Band Jack had let her borrow.


    ¡°The Church has wonderful craftsmanship, you know?¡±


    ¡°Just looks like a metal cylinder to me,¡± Matt said, shrugging. He was lying beside her, naked from the waist up, resting his head in his hands, and staring at the ceiling of the tent.


    ¡°Well, look,¡± she said, lying beside him and holding the diagram up in front of both of their faces. Matt lowered one of his hands to run his fingers through her hair. ¡°The whole idea of gold magic is faith, right? So they put these wards all across the enchanted item to remind themselves of what the piece is capable of, and to help the user believe in it.¡±


    ¡°Do you know what they mean?¡±


    ¡°No, I never really studied the glyphs too hard. I always had this idea like ¡®why trust an elder god that wasn¡¯t even around when you lived in Kraag¡¯s shadow?¡¯¡±


    ¡°Have I ever asked you what he¡¯s like?¡±


    ¡°Kraag?¡±


    Matt nodded.


    ¡°No, you haven¡¯t!¡± Kait said excitedly. ¡°It is actually hard to explain. He is capable of every emotion. Passion incarnate. But he is mostly stubborn and calm. After all, he has a body of stone and his lungs are full of the winds of the world. Sometimes, when he really needs to talk to us, he¡¯ll find someone who can understand his emotions. We call them the Speaker.¡±


    ¡°This sounds rehearsed,¡± Matt chuckled.


    ¡°It kind of is.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry I shrunk off after the druid conversation. I just,¡± Matt looked at Kait, who was beginning to look worried. ¡°I know you don¡¯t want to be a part of this. And I do not want you to feel like you are helping me do something you don¡¯t want to do.¡±


    Kait nodded. ¡°Well, I like your friends. And I figure, the sooner we get the Halcyon Band, the sooner we¡¯ll be done. And if I can help it be over with, I would like you to let me.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Please, Matt,¡± she said, becoming somewhat serious. ¡°I know you have been trying to control what I hear at the camp, what I know about those people out there. I¡¯m not stupid.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t call you stupid.¡±


    ¡°But you¡¯re treating me like I can¡¯t handle the situation.¡±


    ¡°I just don¡¯t want you walking out on me like you did back at the tavern.¡±


    Kaitlyn sighed. ¡°That was an outburst. I¡¯m sorry I did that. But I need you to trust me. I¡¯m all in, you know.¡±


    ¡°I know, and I love you for it.¡± Matt kissed Kaitlyn¡¯s forehead. ¡°And our child will love you for it, too.¡± He kissed her lips. ¡°And all the more when they understand that this life is behind us because of your devotion.¡± He kissed her again, longer this time.


    The sun was up already, and Jack was already causing a ruckus in the camp when Kaitlyn finally emerged.


    ¡°One rock! All it took!¡± Jack was probably miming his throwing a rock overhand up into the trees. ¡°I¡¯m talking about three big birds! Chickens or quails! All fly off!¡±


    ¡°Three birds in one nest, and you bring us three eggs?¡± Sarah asked, deadpan.


    ¡°Two nests, but all the eggs broke in one of them, Miss Doubtful,¡± Jack chided.


    ¡°Well, you threw rocks at them,¡± Matt said as he cracked one of the eggs into a cast iron skillet in the fire. ¡°Do quail even lay eggs this time of year?¡±


    ¡°Ask the birds,¡± Jack sputtered. ¡°You know what, I don¡¯t give a damn. I brought you breakfast and all I get is sour attitudes!¡±


    ¡°Well, I appreciate it, Jack,¡± Benji said as he bit slurped one of the raw eggs from its shell.


    ¡°Yeah, you¡¯re welcome,¡± Jack muttered as he walked to his tent for a piece of bread from his sack.


    Kait watched the scene with a grin until Sarah noticed her. ¡°Hey, good morning, Kait! Do you want breakfast?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s only three eggs, you guys go ahead and have them,¡± she said. She honestly wasn¡¯t feeling much like eating. She just wanted to watch her husband and his friends. ¡°I¡¯ll have a slice of bread or something.¡±

 Bleedingheart Scene VIII

    Lieutenant Braver led Sam and Grim to the front lobby to the mission. They stepped through the door to see the Sister that Sam was on Watch with standing in the center of the room. Her focus, a silver censer, was in hand, glistening with golden, magical light.


    A sickly looking man in dirty street clothes was running at her, a crimson scarf tied around his forehead. He was yelling a battle cry, but was still feet from the priestess when the censer crashed into the side of his head, golden sparks went flying as he crashed to the floor.


    ¡°Sister, are you okay?¡± Braver shouted to her as she composed herself. Sam ran behind the desk to grab his hammer and shield when he noticed that the door to the mission was wide open. The outside of the threshold was charred, and thick black smoke was pouring in from outside.


    The alarm bell came shrieking back into the lobby after having gone all around the offices, and silenced itself. The priestess looked up at the mission¡¯s Lieutenant with sad eyes as the alarm¡¯s strident cry was replaced by a worse chorus. From outside came a cacophony of pained screams.


    ¡°The Chael is happening, Diana?¡± Grim shouted.


    ¡°They came out of nowhere,¡± the priestess said. ¡°It seemed like such a normal night, but suddenly, this riot broke out.¡±


    ¡°And they¡¯re burning things?¡± Braver asked her.


    ¡°Purple Magic, sir,¡± she said, using the slang term for the Wrath Liches¡¯ blending magic. ¡°Wrath magic. But they don¡¯t know how to use it. That man¡± Diana said, looking down at the man she struck. ¡°He was the only one to survive their first charge.¡±


    Grim¡¯s armor flashed with a golden aura as he began to walk to the door. The vanguard lifted his shield and the golden light quickly spread across it as well, growing brighter as he approached the opened double doors to the mission. Thick, oily smoke was clouding the view immediately across the threshold, and pockets of the cloud flickered an ominous red. The smell of burning pitch with an extra magical tinge that burned the sinuses gave away that the flames were courtesy of the liches.


    ¡°How many were out there?¡± Braver asked Diana.


    ¡°No idea, sir. Sam, how many protesters were on the street in front when you came in?¡±


    ¡°I ran into one down the street, none in the square. They had to have set up after I came inside,¡± he said, watching Grim walk closer. There was a gust of hot wind that took the breath from the group in the lobby, and sent a spike of hot pain across Sam¡¯s scared torso. In the doorway, it looked as though Grim¡¯s aura was failing as he walked closer. Sam looked to Lieutenant Braver, who looked sickly and nervous.


    ¡°Private, get away from the door!¡± Brother Nathan shouted as he, Maribel, Shiner, and several other personnel from the mission ran into the lobby. The paladins were armed, and the priests each held their foci, including Brother Nathan. He, too, carried a censer, but his was much larger and more ornate than Diana¡¯s. ¡°Sister Diana, get that blood off of your censer. It is clear to me we need to push at least to the stairs to get a read on what we are facing. You and I will put up a barrier.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Brother,¡± Diana said with a nod. She gripped the golden chain of her censer and the basket flashed with a white light. The blood of the man she struck disintegrated.


    Brother Nathan turned to a priest and paladin who had come into the room behind him. ¡°The two of you shall remain in this lobby and inform those lagging behind that we shall fortify the mission as my group goes forward. We will let you know before any further moves are made.¡± The two nodded in understanding and Brother Nathan turned to the larger group.


    ¡°Gather up and receive your blessings,¡± he commanded. The eight or so men and women, including Braver, Sam, Maribel, and Shiner clustered together with Brother Nathan on one side and Sister Diana on the other.


    Sam carefully watched the nervous Lieutenant, who seemed in a daze. The priest that was technically lower ranking in the mission was seizing the moment and Braver was taking his orders like everyone else. So Sam did as well.


    There was a sweet and pleasant smell from the two priests¡¯ censers as Brother Nathan began to pray. ¡°Oh Dreamer, Great God of Civilization, a manor in your honor stands besieged by the Wrath of Dorvan this day. Your children of culture and law stand with you to defend that manor. Please, Dreamer, empower us not with the acid of vengeance, but instead with the wines of righteousness.¡±


    Suddenly, Sam¡¯s muscles swole larger than any priest or confidant blessing he had ever received. Everyone shifted uncomfortably in their armor except for Shiner who chuckled at his newfound strength.


    ¡°Amen,¡± Diana added, sending a pulse of strength through everyone again.


    ¡°And, Dreamer, look now upon your valiant brothers, sisters, vanguards, and confidants as we walk into the flames of wrath to protect your gift to the world. Defend us as we walk, and keep us safe from the heat of Dorvan¡¯s rage.¡±


    ¡°Amen.¡±


    There was a sound like a sudden gust of wind and a translucent golden dome surrounded the party.


    ¡°Finally, Dreamer, calm our minds so that as we march, we march in faith that your Will is Well.¡±


    ¡°Amen.¡±


    The fragrance of the censers grew even stronger and Sam found himself calmed despite the chaos and confusion. The pain in his chest subsided.


    ¡°Alright, Children of Gessel, march,¡± Brother Nathan ordered. And Sam watched as Lieutenant Braver followed the order, and so he did as well.


    The ground rumbled and the inky cloud ahead surged with red light, and the temperature inside the dome rose slightly. Behind the group, the two defenders left behind began to cough loudly, but the smoke and embers from the attack simply parted to make way for the advancing dome of gold magic.


    The group moved silently out onto the stairs in front of the mission, and once outside, Brother Nathan and Sister Diana stepped further out to spread the size of the dome.


    As the thick black smoke was pushed back, Sam heard Maribel swear under her breath, and saw Shiner turn his head away with a look of disgust. As the dome grew, more and more of two charred bodies began to be revealed on the soot covered staircase. The corpses¡¯ skin was a mess of blisters and blackened flesh.


    ¡°Brother Nathan,¡± Maribel shouted over to him. ¡°I think the flames are from people burning.¡±


    The priest said nothing at first. His silence allowed them all to hear the sounds of shouting in the square immediately ahead. ¡°There are still rioters in the smoke. They must be squelched or they¡¯ll burn all of Back City.¡±


    Sam looked down at the burned bodies. One had a crimson headband now burned into its head¡¯s flesh. The other was still hooded by smoldering tatters of a red cowl. These were the unprofessional casters that he had been warned of. He looked at Lieutenant Braver, who was readying his self-blessings and unsheathing his sword.


    ¡°Sir, these are the untrained wrath magic users. They aren¡¯t doing this on purpose. I think we should get the smoke out of here so we can get a good read on who is out there still and who has killed themselves.¡± Sam did his best to stay quiet and out of Brother Nathan¡¯s earshot, but the crackling of fire and screams of rioters demanded volume.


    ¡°Brother Nathan has given his orders,¡± Braver replied, almost defeated. ¡°So let¡¯s get ready to fight, Corporal.¡±


    Sam looked down at the corpses again, the pain in his chest beginning to flare up again despite the fragrance of the incense. When he looked up again, he saw Shiner and Maribel looking at him.


    ¡°He¡¯s right, sir,¡± Maribel said with a nod. ¡°We don¡¯t need to be killing if we don¡¯t need to be.¡±


    ¡°What was that, sister?¡± Brother Nathan called. Suddenly, the rabble of paladins preparing themselves for battle quieted.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    ¡°Myself and Corporal Bleedingheart think it would be more prudent to remove the smoke and assess the battlefield before charging in blindly.¡±


    Brother Nathan¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°And how would you do that, Sister?¡±


    ¡°Well, you could cast a downdraft over the square and try to force the smoke out down the side streets. We would have to plug the tunnel to keep from smoking out the Great Hall, but I think it would clear it up. At least some,¡± Sam realized too late that he had begun talking. And failed, as well, to notice Brother Nathan¡¯s visible annoyance and Braver¡¯s shame.


    ¡°We can use the window¡¯s over Madge¡¯s, and the building across the square from her,¡± Shiner added with a nod.


    Brother Nathan bristled. ¡°And I suppose you will want Diana and myself to stay here, Corporal?¡± His use of Sam¡¯s rank came across more insulting than respectful. As though it were a punctuation mark reminding him of his place.


    ¡°I¡­¡± Lieutenant Braver began meekly. ¡°I think it is worth trying. After all, the days of killing for a misuse of magic are long behind the Church, are they not, Brother?¡±


    Brother Nathan huffed. ¡°Fine. Play your games. You get fifteen minutes, Lieutenant, and then the rest of us charge. I will contact the tunnel watch to plug the path.¡± The priest turned back to tend to the censer.


    ¡°I think you two have a great idea,¡± Braver said, finding something like confidence on this side of Nathan¡¯s approval. ¡°Sam, Maribel, you go to Madge¡¯s. Shiner and I will go to the building across. I think it¡¯s a tenement.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± the three young warriors responded.  The four took a moment to bless each other with auras strong enough to brave the smoke, and also get their blessings from Brother Nathan and Sister Diana reaffirmed. Then, Maribel and Sam stepped off to the left side of the stairs while Braver and Shiner went right.


    ¡°You ready, Bleedingheart?¡± Maribel asked.


    ¡°Think so,¡± he said, looking down at the decorative scare on his chestplate. ¡°Have you had to, you know, defend the faith before?¡±


    ¡°Nope,¡± she said, gripper her scepter. ¡°I would follow your lead, but, I¡¯m not sure that¡¯s wise!¡± Maribel smiled playfully as she nodded to the scar.


    Sam grinned, and took his first step into the smoke. Even with the aura around him, he could not see far in front of him, and every breath stung of soot and heat.


    Dreamer, let me see something. Sam¡¯s prayer was answered instantly as a golden light spilled from within his own eyes, surging the young paladin with mana and strength, and cutting partially through the smoke. He looped his warhammer back onto his belt and looked behind him to see Maribel looking around frantically.


    When she saw the light from his eyes, she stopped, surprised. Sam reached for her hand and began pulling her along toward Madge¡¯s restaurant. With every step it seemed as though the smoke became thicker and the air became hotter. The pair were stumbling over sticks and stones as they ran, but when Maribel tripped, Sam stopped to help her to her feet.


    It was then he made the dreadful realization that the rubbish they were tripping over were even more burned corpses. In the short advance they had made from the stairs, Sam could make out five bodies.


    ¡°We have to keep moving!¡± he shouted to Maribel. She looked up into his shining eyes, said nothing, and only nodded.


    Only a few further steps and the heat slowly began to subside. By the time they had reached Madge¡¯s only six doors down from the mission, Sam was able to see enough in the smoke without the lights from his eyes to cut them off. The two ran toward Madge¡¯s storefront, clattering across the metal seats and tables on the patio in the front, and went for the door.


    Knowing that all of his training would have told him to check the door and see if there was fire or activity on the other side, but one look at the distressed priestess behind him, and his own choking on hot ash, sent him crashing through Madge¡¯s wooden front door.


    Inside, it was like another world. The smoke had only just begun to permeate the building, and its brickwork walls had insulated it from much of the heat.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t check the door,¡± Maribel chastised between relieved, heaving gasps.


    ¡°Give me a break,¡± Sam muttered, catching his own breath.


    ¡°I¡¯m only kidding, Sam,¡± Maribel said with a grin.


    ¡°Sneaky sneaky Church folk!¡± shouted a voice from the doorway. A woman stepped in from the smoke, decked in crimson robes with a tall, pointed hat to match. ¡°Crashing and smashing your way through hard workers¡¯ property to just save your skins!¡±


    ¡°Careful Sam,¡± Maribel warned. ¡°Looks like she may be a real Wrath Lich.¡±


    ¡°Real as they come, Sister,¡± the woman held up her two hands and let lose a roaring shriek. There was a sudden surge of heat as her hands, like a hose, began unleashing a spray of liquid fire.


    Let me defend her from this Sam prayed silently. His shield let loose a golden light as the paladin dove between the Lich¡¯s attack and Sister Maribel. The flames sloshed against the aura and the metal, splashing off in every possible direction. Most of it burned away to nothing as it struck the cool stone floor, but the risk of the wooden furniture catching was real.


    As the heat from the fire poured over Sam, the scar in his chest seemed to burn more and more. He remembered the young man at Elmsmith that took advantage of his mercy. He thought of all of the angry, but otherwise innocent men and women who were misled by this woman and her sect. He did not know why, but he began to think of the lives those men and women had led, and how the Wrath Liches got to know them. Got to know their families. And still forced them to make this sacrifice.


    Sam did not realize he was walking toward the Wrath Lich at first, but when he noticed just how close he was, he steadied his grip on his shield with both hands. With a roar, he thrust toward the caster and felt metal hit something.


    Strength, Dreamer. I need strength. Sam roared again, surging forward. The woman shrieked in pain as Sam forced her to the floor. Once she was forced down and her wrath flames began spilled around her, Sam dove away. Looking back, the crimson-cloaked woman lay amongst puddles of fire, her robes beginning to catch as well. Her right arm, Sam assumed it was where his shield had connected, was crumpled against her torso.


    ¡°Bastard!¡± she cried, slinging her good arm in Sam¡¯s direction, casting as she did. Another surge of heat as a splash of flames came his way.


    There was a whip crack as a golden rope from Maribels scepter wrapped around the Wrath Lich¡¯s forearm. Maribel yanked the witch toward her and with a grunt, the woman fell face first onto the stone, then went silent.


    ¡°Thank you, Sister,¡± Sam said as he stood.


    ¡°Oh, thank you, Corporal,¡± she said, with a slight bow as the golden rope disappeared. Maribel looked to the Wrath Lich, seeing her torso rise and fall slightly. ¡°We need to get upstairs, now. I¡¯m starting to think Brother Nathan had the right idea.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Sam said, as he looked around the restaurant. Fires were still smouldering. Definitely dangerous, but he felt it may be more important to help the mission. A thin set of stairs went up the back of the restaurant, the first steps blocked off by a wooden ¡°Please Do Not Enter¡± sign. ¡°Sorry Madge,¡± Sam muttered as he grabbed his warhammer and smashed through the rope.


    The paladin and priestess ran up the stairs to a door. This time, Sam took the time to check. The wooden door was cool to the touch and no sounds came from inside.


    ¡°Sounds good,¡± he said to Maribel.


    ¡°Great, let¡¯s go, Sam.¡±


    Sam pushed the door open into Madge¡¯s home. It was modestly furnished with thin wooden chairs and a plush fabric loveseat in the apartment¡¯s living room. There was a wall of windows that looked out over the Back City square with large fabric curtains pulled over them.


    Looking around to make sure Madge was not going to show up and suddenly protest the act, Sam and Maribel made their way to one of the windows. Maribel quickly drew the curtains and the two saw outside.


    Only half the square, the side closest to the mission, was accosted by smoke and flames. In the dusty, soot covered half that was otherwise clear, a handful of figures stood, raising their hands and slinging liquid flame haphazardly into the smoke when they could.


    As they watched, their attention was suddenly captured by a flash of light from across the square. Someone in the window of one of the buildings immediately across from them was signaling with a bright golden light.


    ¡°Break the window for me,¡± Maribel said. ¡°They¡¯re ready.¡± She held up her scepter and the head of it began to glow gold in reply to Shiner and Braver.


    Sam used his warhammer to smash through the window. ¡°Sorry again, Madge.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll give her a gold slip,¡± the priestess said as she moved into the window sill. ¡°Now Sam, I should warn you, I¡¯m no good at elemental magic.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the best part, Sister,¡± Sam responded. ¡°I do not think it matters what you are good at, right? Just what Gessel needs you to do?¡±


    Maribel smiled over her shoulder to Sam. ¡°You¡¯re right.¡± She look back over the square. ¡°Dreamer,¡± she began. ¡°Your manor is under affliction. Please, allow me to summon a cleansing wind. A strong, purifying gust to grant us better understanding of this crime so we may address it according to your Will. Amen.¡±


    Maribel lowered her hands. And for a short eternity, nothing happened. Then, the whole structure began to tremble. The curtains whipped to and fro as miniature whirlwinds tore through the apartment. Outside, the smoke of the Wrath Lich attack was being swept up in a cyclone. Hot red flashes of light flickered within the twister as refuse was slung around. Suddenly, Sam could clearly see the defenders at the mission looking up at the tornado just the same.


    Once the cyclone had vacuumed up all of the smoke, it erupted as though it was releasing an intense pressure, and sent gusts of smoke-filled wind surging down the streets of the Back City.


    ¡°Dreamer.¡± Maribel muttered under her breath. Sam was speechless. Without the thick, foul smoke, they could see clearly. In the street below them, smouldering in the liquid flames of wrath magic was a mound of torched bodies.

 Exiled Minister Scene II

    ¡°Do you want one, Mr. Cayd?¡± Boldbounty asked over his shoulder as he stood in front of a small vendor on the street. Behind the vendor¡¯s cart was a small woman in nomad-styled clothes. A small magically summoned flame was heating up a cast iron griddle in front of her.


    ¡°Excuse my cultural ignorance, Enoch, but I have no idea what a syrup swirl is.¡±


    ¡°Oh dear, Gavundari?¡± the woman asked with a wide grin.


    ¡°Yes, I¡¯ve only been here for a few months.¡±


    ¡°Then you absolutely need one! Don¡¯t worry Sergeant,¡± she said as the paladin reached for another coin. ¡°This is on me. I¡¯ll have his business forever after one bite anyway.¡±


    Cayd stepped forward beside Boldbounty to watch the girl work. She poured a decanter over the griddle, spilling a thick golden batter into two puddles. The smell of sweet bread filled the air as the batter began to set. The girl reached for a box and sprinkled the contents onto the cakes. Brown sugar, cinnamon, and chopped, roasted nuts fell down and buried themselves into the cakes¡¯ uncooked tops. Though Cayd had eaten a large breakfast, the sweet smell made his mouth water.


    After watching the cakes cook for a beat or two, the girl took a spatula to them and flipped the topped side down to a buttery hiss. The fragrance was doubled as a result and Cayd looked up to see Boldbounty grinning like a child.


    Just a moment more and the girl used the spatula to roll the cakes into tight spirals, wrapped them in wax paper, and handed them to her customers. ¡°Give it a second to cook the last bits, Mister Wanderer of Kraagheim, and then tell me what you think!¡±


    Cayd looked down at the creation and took in its nutty, sugary smell. The brown sugar had caramelized and turned to a thick syrup with the griddle¡¯s heat and was dripping down the inside of the wax paper. When he could no longer resist, he took a bite of the warm pastry and, to his surprise, let out a pleased laugh.


    ¡°This is delightful!¡± he exclaimed. ¡°I¡¯ve never had anything like this.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll see you again soon, then, yeah? The girl asked with a wink before moving to help another customer.


    Cayd looked at Boldbounty to see him taking the final bites of his cake. ¡°Is this what patrol is, Enoch? Street food and small talk?¡±


    Boldbounty laughed. ¡°I mean, until the Sea Witch arrives,¡± he said looking around. ¡°Pretty much! You have to have good community outreach, you know?¡±


    The two men laughed as they walked through the busy city center of Dawnbreak.  As they patrolled past the crowds of shoppers and merchants, Cayd¡¯s attention was seized by a brick storefront immediately off of the main thoroughfare.


    The multi-story brick building was made out of the same white bricks that built the Dawnbreak Chapel, but a massive, dusty window showed Cayd that the inside of the shop could not be any more different. Odds and ends spilled across a display table immediately against the window and even larger, more strange items were mounted on the wood-paneled walls inside. A man even dustier than the window was too busy at something behind a large glass counter to notice Cayd¡¯s staring. A complex sign hung over the door reading ¡°Keeping Focus, Magical Supplies for Dawnbreak.¡±


    ¡°Window shopping is also an important part of patrolling,¡± Bouldbounty said to Cayd.


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m so sorry!¡± he replied, looking down at the items. ¡°I¡¯ve always been so interested in Talnorel¡¯s blue magic.¡±


    ¡°We can go into the store, you know?¡±


    ¡°Do we have anywhere to be?¡±


    Boldbounty let out a deep laugh before pushing the door to the shop open. A hanging bell welcomed them loudly and the storekeeper looked up.


    ¡°Hello Sergeant! Are you looking for a priest focus?¡± the storekeeper asked cheerfully, nodding with his head since his hands were busy at work with some fashion of metal box.


    ¡°Not today, sir,¡± Boldbounty waved the idea away as he glanced around the cluttered shop. ¡°Just looking.¡±Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    Cayd silently walked the small room, his eyes narrowing and widening with each discovery. At one end of the store was a series of church-style foci for gold magic. Censers, scepters, grails, candlesticks all sat haphazardly, but the lack of organization was charming. Across from those items, and just as disorderly were blue magic foci. Lamps, tomes, staves, and even more unusual knick knacks rest on tables or hung from mounts in the wall.


    ¡°Let me know if you see anything you like, sir,¡± the man called over to Cayd.


    ¡°Yes, yes, thank you.¡± Cayd¡¯s gaze fell on a small lantern of twisted bronze. The metal was worked into tight braid-like cords that were wound together into the lid of the lantern. A bulb of bright red glass hung beneath it. There was no structure inside to hold the light. Cayd grinned as he reached forward, and as his hand approached, a red light began to glow and grew brighter as his hand approached. He mouthed a shocked ¡°what¡± as he watched it.


    ¡°Is that unusual?¡± Boldbounty asked as he watched Cayd play with the lantern¡¯s light.


    ¡°Not here. But back home? Very. We actually don¡¯t use foci too often in Gavundar. Not the standard blue magic users, though.¡±


    ¡°Is that right?¡± Boldbounty asked, looking down at a priestly focus, a small statuette of a man in bright armor. ¡°How do you all pull off your big spells?¡±


    Cayd thought for a moment. ¡°I suppose I misspoke. We do use foci, just not like Talnorel.¡± Cayd sighed, and looked over at the shopkeeper, who had stopped his work and was widely grinning. Cayd then pushed his left sleeve up past his elbow. Black markings were etched into his already dark skin. Sharp angles and strange loops twisted and turned all over, everything just a different shade of black. The tattoos went up under the sleeve of the cloak, but ended abruptly at the wrist.


    Behind the counter, the shopkeeper nodded in admiration of the marks, but Boldbounty looked wide-eyed at them. ¡°That is impressive! An art in itself, Mr. Cayd. But, what am I looking at?¡±


    ¡°My notes,¡± Cayd said proudly. ¡°Thank you for the compliments. They are etched in a cipher of my own design so my own spells can never be read and used against me. The same way your priests use their focus to call on a particular aspect of faith, or how blue magic users here use a physical object to remind them of their magical ideals.¡±


    ¡°So those are all just notes? On what? The meaning of life?¡±


    ¡°Ah ha,¡± Cayd said as he let his sleeve fall again. ¡°Another place where we differ.¡± Cayd looked over to the shopkeeper. ¡°Correct me if I ever assume too much of Talnorel¡¯s casting, sir, but I understand the scholarship of blue magic is different on this land?¡±


    ¡°You would be correct, friend!¡± The shopkeeper nodded enthusiastically. It was clear he loved his job, and loved when others seemed to care as much. ¡°Blue magic, whether you like it or not, Sergeant, was a product of the Church of the Will,¡± he said, firing a playful glare at Boldbounty, who laughed.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been a paladin all my life, sir. And my wife is from Duskfall! If I weren¡¯t aware of our Church¡¯s charred past, I¡¯d be as good as blind.¡±


    The shopkeeper grinned and nodded with understanding. ¡°Well, as one would imagine, the philosophical strain of being held underfoot of a faith you do not believe proved too much for those who put more stock in mortal will than faith, and there they discovered power. With the correct frame of mind and an understanding of the world around, the will of a mortal could be imposed on the world, both natural and unnatural. Suddenly,¡± the shopkeeper lifted his hands from his work to excitedly gesticulate. ¡°The realms of green and red magic would be bound as one!¡±


    ¡°Did faith magic not give them enough?¡± Boldbounty asked rhetorically, but the shopkeeper ran with the idea.


    ¡°No, for why, though?¡±


    ¡°Because now we did not need the Will of a god to decide what could or couldn¡¯t be done,¡± Cayd said, watching the lantern glow again and smiling. ¡°Just convince yourself first, and then convince the world.¡±


    Boldbounty grinned as he watched Cayd childishly play with the lantern. ¡°So how does that make Talnorel different from Gavundar in blue magic?¡±


    ¡°The convincing, as you so brilliantly worded it,¡± the shopkeeper said to Cayd, ¡°took a more philosophical and historical spin here as Duskfall attempted to socially break from the Church of the Will and the Throne. For a mage on Talnorel, that lantern as a focus could help them remember that their brilliance, their will, their magic is a light in the darkness. A staff may remind them of the stalwart, upstanding nature of mortals. All this helps them channel their will.¡±


    ¡°As for Gavundar,¡± Cayd said, looking up from the lantern. ¡°We took a more practical approach to expressions of will. Study of the physical or living world helps to offer a natural foundation to our spells, while mathematics helps us to aim and control them. Honestly, I admire the Talnorel style. They can wield their spells with the same finesse, but do not need the constant mental acrobatics of calculation on the battlefield.¡±


    ¡°Battlefield, Mr. Cayd?¡± Boldbounty asked, wondering if he was about to learn more of his guest¡¯s nebulous past.


    ¡°Sir, how much for the lantern?¡± Cayd asked, ignoring the paladin¡¯s question with a friendly smile.


    ¡°Normally I would ask ten geld for such fine Duskfall craftsmanship,¡± the shopkeeper mused. ¡°But it seems to have taken a liking to you.¡±


    Cayd¡¯s face fell. ¡°Enchanted?¡±


    ¡°No, no,¡± the shopkeeper urged. ¡°Just a figure of speech. My apologies for the confusion. Five geld, though, is all I will charge you.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s perfect.¡± Cayd fished out five glimmering coins and exchanged them over the counter, and the trio offered their farewells.


    The sorcerer looked with pride at his purchase as his paladin friend led him out of the shop¡¯s door. ¡°How often do we go on patrols?¡± Cayd asked.


    ¡°I try to get out of the keep as much as possible.¡±


    ¡°I think I may need that gold slip exchanged after all.¡±

 Bleedingheart Scene IX

    ¡°I swear!¡± the woman blubbered. ¡°I¡¯m not a Wrath Lich! I swear on Gessel¡¯s Throne!¡±


    ¡°Look, I know,¡± Maribel said gently to her. The softness in her voice belied the nurturing persona she had adopted for this interrogation. In reality, the thirty hours after the riot and explosion outside of the mission had been a stressful marathon. Everyone the church had managed to capture still alive had been too shocked or ignorant to the riot¡¯s roots to be of any use, and one by one they were turned over to the law enforcement mechanisms within the Throne proper.


    This portly vegetable peddler from the Back City markets was all that remained. Her smock had been crudely stained red with what smelled like beet juice. A pink bandana hung loosely around her neck, turned dark by sweat and tears.


    ¡°I understand you are not a proper Wrath Lich, but they taught you all how to use that magic, did they not?¡± Maribel eyed her scepter, which was lying at the end of the table. She had had to use it too much in the past hours. She prayed silently for this woman to be more welcoming.


    ¡°Not me,¡± she admitted. ¡°I wasn¡¯t good enough at it. I couldn¡¯t make the fire like the rest could. Not mana sensitive at all, just like my parents.¡±


    ¡°So what happened to you then?¡±


    ¡°They told me to stay home. They didn¡¯t want me if I couldn¡¯t do their magic,¡± she held back tears, but just barely.


    Finally, Maribel thought she was making progress. Some insight into the actual Wrath Liches behind what had happened. So far, all she had learned was that they were not from The Throne.


    ¡°Why did you ignore their advice? It would have saved you a lot of trouble and heartache.¡±


    ¡°Save me heartache? I don¡¯t have a heart to ache anymore! This damned city has broken it to pieces.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Your brothers and sisters,¡± the woman used the title as if it were a curse. ¡°In the city. When my husband came ill, you conveniently could not heal him.¡±


    ¡°Did the Wrath Liches know you were in such pain?¡±


    ¡°Of course not. I don¡¯t brag about what you all dragged me through,¡± the woman wailed.


    Liar. Maribel had heard this woman¡¯s story, though she could not recognize her as the subject. The gossip-ridden streets of the Back City all knew about ¡°Crying Patsy.¡± Her emotions, not a lack of mana sensitivity, were obviously what held her back from casting the blended Wrath magic. She was sad more than angry. And that was Maribel¡¯s foothold.


    ¡°Have you come to our mission for help before?¡±


    ¡°After your priests told me my husband was Chael¡¯s, I stayed as far away as I could,¡± she spat. There was a pause, then her emotions took to filling the silence again. ¡°Of course, not that I could get away from my stand. Rent is so high back here now. And without my husband¡¯s pay, I work all day and all night just to keep off the streets.¡±


    Everyone suffers, Maribel thought dryly. ¡°You do not need to suffer like that. You have to understand that our power is carried out through the Will of Gessel.¡±


    ¡°Piss off,¡± the woman muttered. ¡°You can¡¯t honestly say it was a god¡¯s Will that my husband died.¡±


    ¡°I can, and I must. Because I have devoted my life to ensuring that the civilization as designed by Gessel is perfected. Just as you losing your family has caused you to lose your way, loss of faith would do the same to me.


    ¡°I am genuinely sorry about what happened to your family, and I, for one, am truly interested in helping you relieve some of what pains you. Do you know the real reason why you were unable to cast the magics the Wrath Liches taught?¡±


    The woman looked up from her sorrow curiously.


    ¡°Because you are not motivated by hatred of the church. You are motivated by love of family.¡±


    A small smile cracked the woman¡¯s cry face. Maribel was relieved to see it. Her twisted sorrow was honestly quite ugly.


    ¡°Think, ma¡¯am, about the other mothers, fathers, husbands, and wives who loved ones are being shoveled from the streets outside right now. And while you think about that, let me ask you a question. Did healers try to heal your husband?¡±


    The woman silently nodded.


    ¡°What about the Wrath Liches, did they stay to heal the wounded of their own riot?¡±


    A pause. Then a slow shake of the head.


    ¡°I am so sorry that we failed you. But I trust that we tried. And right now we are trying something else. We are trying to find justice for the families that were shredded by the Wrath Liches.¡±


    Patsy looked at Maribel with sad eyes. ¡°They all already left,¡± she said with a slow sigh. ¡°There were five of them. Two left before the riot even started.¡±


    Maribel tried to hide her excitement as best as she could. This was more than she had gotten from anyone else.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    ¡°Do you know any of their names?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t, sister. They did not even let anyone see their faces. We would meet twice a week for training with them just outside the city. You never knew which of the five would show up. Didn¡¯t even know how many there actually were until the day of the riot.¡±


    ¡°How long had you all been preparing?¡±


    ¡°Since summer.¡±


    Maribel nodded with understanding. There had been an incident where a handful of violent arrests in the Back City that definitely stoked the fires of this riot during those months, not to mention all the news of the Church losing ships to the Sea Witch in the south validating some anti-Church opinions.


    ¡°Why did you continue to go to training even though you were unable to cast their magic?¡±


    ¡°I told them I truly wanted to help. So they let me carry messages.¡±


    The priestess twitched with excitement, but quickly squashed a visible reaction. ¡°Do you know what the contents of these messages were?¡±


    ¡°I never knew, no. I would just give them to whoever was leading that training session, then pick up another for the coming week. Sometimes I would be handed them at my stand, but not often.¡±


    Oh, you gossiping woman. Please, keep talking.


    ¡°They would never read them in front of us. I found it strange that they were responding without even reading, but I suppose there were conversations moving between all of them the whole time.¡±


    ¡°Do you have any of these letters left?¡±


    The woman said nothing. She simply reached into her smock and removed a thick, cream colored envelope and passed it to Maribel. The priestess refused it.


    ¡°Would you mind opening it for me? And just unfold it in front of us.¡±


    Patsy nodded and broke the thin wax seal. She began screaming in shock as the envelope tried to ignite. Quickly, Maribel reached out, one hand on Patsy¡¯s wrist and the other on the envelope. A flash of white light dispelled the trapfire and protected the paper and the woman from burns.


    After a few calming whimpers, Patsy quieted again, relaxed by Maribel¡¯s touch and gentle smile. She continued to open the envelope and unfolded the letter in between them.


    Largo,


    Your rumors smell worse than Kraag¡¯s shit. The Halcyon Band is nowhere in this city. The relic registry had no mention of it. The mission listings had no mention of it. That paladin we tortured had no idea what it even was. Elmsmith is a waste of time.


    Alicia


    Sam¡¯s armor was far from suitable for a meeting with Lieutenant Braver. He had been in front of the mission helping with the grotesque cleanup job. Luckily for Corporal Bleedingheart, he had been sought out by a teary Madge and personally asked to help clean up her restaurant. So the job of moving corpses had fallen to others.


    Sam was standing beside a very exhausted Sister Maribel outside Braver¡¯s closed office door. He tried to make conversation, but Maribel seemed unwilling, or unable, to put up the effort for talking.


    He did not mind terribly, though. The past two days had been a whirlwind of stressors and activity. On one hand, he had never felt more like a paladin, but on the other, the gritty reality of his occupation took hold and was quite a shock.


    ¡°Corporal, Sister, I¡¯m ready for you.¡± The voice of Brother Nathan was a surprise. Sam and Maribel looked at each other with a moment of confusion before shrugging their way through the door into the Lieutenant¡¯s office.


    Inside, Lieutenant Braver was sitting behind his oak desk, unsurprisingly clear of any knick knacks or papers. Brother Nathan hovered behind him like a shadow. The smug grin on his face clashed harshly with Braver¡¯s bright grin.


    ¡°Good morning, you two.¡±


    ¡°Good morning sir,¡± Sam said respectfully while Maribel bowed lightly. ¡°And hello to you, Brother Nathan.¡± The priest simply tilted his head in Sam¡¯s direction.


    ¡°I want to commend the work both of you have done lately. The cyclone plan, Bleedingheart, was brilliant, and the information you retrieved from Patsy, Sister, has informed our next moves.¡±


    ¡°I appreciate your compliments, sir,¡± Maribel said sleepily.


    ¡°So, now we will discuss your next assignments,¡± Braver said, pulling two thick bundles of papers from a drawer in his desk. The smug grin on Brother Nathan¡¯s face seemed to flash with renewed life.


    ¡°First for you, Maribel. This is highly sensitive information that will not leave this room. You will be dispatched to Dawnbreak on a temporary duty assignment. Right now, our ally, High Sergeant Enoch Boldbounty is preparing for a siege by the pirate known as the Sea Witch and her fleet. The issue is that she is believed to be allied with the ocean god, Tidus.¡±


    Maribel did not react readily, so Sam spoke up. ¡°Excuse me sir. I was actually trained at the Abbey by the High Sergeant.¡± He hoped that he may be able to see Boldbounty again.


    ¡°Then you know how good of a paladin he is. Though he needs all the help he can get. For you, Sam, though. You are needed elsewhere. I will be sending you to the chapel at Happfield until further notice.¡±


    ¡°What is in Happfield, sir?¡±


    ¡°A chapel, Corporal. That you will be working in until further notice.¡± Brother Nathan said it suddenly, and harshly. It was almost biting.


    Maribel looked up at Sam. She was stoic, but her glance said plenty.


    ¡°When do we leave?¡± Maribel asked.


    ¡°Maribel, your caravan will be provided by the Church, and you will be informed of its departure,¡± Braver said, handing the Sister her stack of travel orders. ¡°You, Sam, will be leaving in just a few hours.¡±


    ¡°You will not need civilian clothing while you are working at the chapel, Corporal, so please ready your practical and ceremonial armors.¡± Brother Nathan moved around the Lieutenant and pushed the stack of papers in his direction. ¡°So, since you have to get ready to go, Corporal, you are dismissed.¡±


    ¡°Good luck, Corporal Bleedingheart,¡± Braver said, holding out his hand for a shake. ¡°We will contact you when we need you back here.¡±


    Sam looked down at Braver¡¯s hand, then over at Maribel, who was reading her paperwork. Suddenly, the confusion seized him. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, sir, but what is happening?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Why am I being sent to Happfield? I only got here one month ago and I was specifically pulled from the Abbey for my ¡®cultural expertise.¡¯¡± Sam offered air quotes to the last words. ¡°Why am I being dispatched there? Is something happening?¡±


    ¡°You, Corporal,¡± Brother Nathan stabbed at Sam with the words. ¡°Are not at liberty to know why you are being sent to Happfield. You are a paladin, Corporal. It is your duty to take orders and carry them out in the honor of Gessel. So prepare yourself to depart.¡±


    Sam began to open his mouth, but Maribel put her hand on his shoulder. He looked to Lieutenant Braver, who was avoiding eye contact.


    The paladin reached for his paperwork and moved to the office door. ¡°Well, thank you for your time, Brother Nathan. I will carry out Gessel¡¯s Will to the best of my ability at Happfield.¡± With those final words, Sam left the room with the door open to find Shiner to get help preparing his suits of armor to move across the northern stretch of the March.

 The Carpenter Scene VI

    The Crew had stopped at the edge of the druids¡¯ grove. The grove was leaping up from the March¡¯s otherwise boundless grasslands quite suddenly some way northeast of the sprawling city of Crossroads. In fact, it had probably been three or four days since any of them had last seen more than a lone tree amidst the tall grasses, much less one as high as the trees of the grove.


    ¡°Why¡¯d you stop, Kait?¡± Jack said, looking concerned.


    The sudden emotion was too much, and gave Kait pause. As she approached the grove, all she felt was sorrow. And not the self-indulgent sadness that would cause a rainstorm, or the explosive despair that would whip up a tornado. This was deep, scarring, pervasive sorrow that had the elements continuing their business as usual. A sort of sorrow that not only begged the question of what went wrong, but also what if it had gone right?


    ¡°There¡¯s something wrong,¡± Kait responded, doing her best to keep from allowing the sorrow into her own heart.


    ¡°Is this not the right place? Matt asked in a way that made it clear he expected a certain answer. ¡°We are four days out of Crossroads with two days of food. Is this not the right place?¡±


    ¡°It is, Matt,¡± Kait assured him. ¡°It just isn¡¯t the same as I remember.¡±


    ¡°Well, forests change a lot,¡± Sarah offered. Kait could tell she was uncomfortable, as was Benji. The two were shifting nervously and looking at one another and the shady grove at random intervals. Kaitlyn was sure she was not emoting too flagrantly with the growing sadness of the grove, but her friends were feeling something.


    ¡°Well, let¡¯s pick up the pace. Unless you want to starve,¡± Matt muttered as he started walking forward. Jack looked at Kait with worry, but ultimately followed. The others slowly slogged behind.


    The sorrow of the land did not grow, but it did not shrink either. It remained a chronic, throbbing presence in the base of Kait¡¯s stomach. She probed the dirt underfoot, as well as the stones that littered the roadside, but they each recoiled from her presence. A shaman had not come this way in years, it seemed. Not since whatever broke the heart of the land, at least.


    The path was extremely well kept for a road that went into a Verdant Grove. Kait remembered some of the groves allowed their walkways to become lush with carpets of grass, but she also remembered this one in particular was kept tame for the visitors from the trade mecca of Crossroad to feel welcome. But the cleanliness of the path changed once the Crew crossed the tree line.


    Weeds burst from the dirt road as soon as the shade of the forest began. The undergrowth grew taller and more wild the deeper into the forest the road went. Not far ahead, the way forward would completely disappear.


    ¡°Is this strange? The road just ends,¡± Benji asked.


    ¡°A little,¡± Kait replied, her neck muscles straining to keep her voice from shuddering under the weight of the sorrow. ¡°This place used to be really welcoming.¡±


    ¡°When did you come last?¡± Matt asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t even remember, to be honest. Years ago.¡±


    Matt¡¯s silence was almost accusing. Luckily, the awkward quiet was broken by the sound of footfalls in the undergrowth.


    ¡°Hush!¡± Jack hissed, noticing a shadowy shape between the nearby trees. The group watched as a large creature, silhouetted by filtered sunlight, glided along. The shadow was on four, stilt-like legs. Its long, snouted head was crowned by an impressive rack of antlers.


    ¡°It must be a healthy boy to have antlers that big,¡± Sarah whispered.


    ¡°And delicious,¡± Jack said, his tongue flicking playfully across his fangs. ¡°Venison anyone?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure,¡± Kait said quietly. The land did not respond in any way to Jack¡¯s suggestion. Not that it normally would. A hunt or death of one animal was hardly enough to upset something as eternal as the earth or the ocean. But holy sites such as this one deserved more respect.


    ¡°What do you mean, Kait?¡± Matt asked. ¡°Days from the nearest city with nowhere near enough food, and I still haven¡¯t seen any of these helpful druids.¡±


    Kait looked into Matt¡¯s eyes, which seemed more frightened than truly angry. He kept looking off to the left, in the direction of the deer. And just as Kait noticed, she felt something. The thought-equivalent of the breath someone takes when they are just about to begin speaking, but suddenly stop themselves. Strangely, it did not seem to be her own thought. She felt the urge to look in the direction of the deer herself, but shook her head and the thoughts and urges were gone.


    ¡°We need the food, and this is just too good of an opportunity,¡± Jack said decidedly as he began to move toward the deer. The animal looked deeper in the woods and started to move and Jack followed. ¡°I¡¯ll meet you all back on the road in a couple of hours.¡±


    The Crew watched the fanged folk disappear into the green shadows of the forest, and Kait could not help but wonder why she let him go. It immediately seemed like a bad decision, but there was nothing to be done now.


    ¡°We should go further in,¡± she suggested. ¡°There will be a sanctuary in the middle and the druids should be there.¡±


    ¡°Let me lead,¡± Benji offered before shambling forward and pushing into the weeds and saplings blocking the path. The rest of the Crew continued pushing forward, but it was slow going. And all the while, the sorrow of the land was there.


    Kait could feel the emotions wearing her down. Many times, whenever they had to work around a mossy boulder or shuffler over a lichenous log, she wanted so badly to just turn around and give up. But something was cheering her on.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    As the Crew came across a particularly large fallen trunk, Kait sighed to herself. Lying down, the trunk was almost nearly as tall as Benji, cutting off at his shoulder height. The tree had become a nurse tree for a handful of other mostly-grown trees just as large as their fallen mother. Mud, pebbles, moss, and weeds prevented the group from crawling beneath the rotting tree, and so the team was forced to climb over.


    ¡°Kait, let me boost you up,¡± Benji said. ¡°Then it will be your turn, Sarah.¡± He intertwined his fingers and held them down as a stepping point for Kait¡¯s boots. She grumbled, but masked it with a strained grunt as she tried to begin climbing.


    Once again, the sorrow tried to drive her to give up, but once again came the cheer.


    You can do it! The words were so clear, it surprised her. Just a little bit more! Come on, missy!


    Kait came over the top of the trunk and gasped. A man was standing on the other side, offering a hand to help her down. He was strikingly handsome, with sharp features and high cheekbones. His amber-colored eyes were twinkling brightly and gave a magical spark to his smile. His layered cotton clothes were semi-formal, but faded and dirty. In his left hand, he carried a shillelagh as a walking stick. But out of all of his features, his pointed ears gave him away. She had found the druid.


    ¡°You were speaking to my mind?¡± Kaitlyn asked, almost offended now that she knew the source of the cheering.


    ¡°My apologies, miss,¡± he said with a smile. His accent was lilting, with soft consonants, but harsh vowels. Something she had never heard in her life. ¡°I just wanted to make sure you made it to the druids.¡± The man looked sad for a moment. ¡°Well, druid.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s get you down from up there and I¡¯ll explain it all to ya,¡± the man said, smiling again. ¡°My name is Gideon, by the way.¡±


    ¡°Kaitlyn,¡± she said, apprehensively reaching for his hand. When her hand grabbed his, Gideon nodded and suddenly, vines burst from the loam at the druid¡¯s feet, creating sturdy steps for Kaitlyn to step down from. ¡°Thank you,¡± she said, grinning to show she was impressed.


    ¡°Who¡¯s he?¡± Sarah asked harshly, having scrambled to the top of the trunk.


    The druid laughed out loud at Sarah¡¯s crude curiosity. ¡°My name is Gideon, dear. Come on down and we¡¯ll help the gents get up and over.¡±


    Once the Crew was on the other end of the trunk and introductions were made, Matt was all about business.


    ¡°We are here to find the druids, Gideon. We are dealing with an enchantment.¡±


    ¡°Of what kind?¡± Gideon asked.


    ¡°A lock blessed by the Church of the Will,¡± Sarah added.


    ¡°Oh, that is just plain easy. Come along with me to the sanctuary and I will find you something,¡± Gideon said, turning deeper into the grove. Ahead of the group, the undergrowth began to shrink away to make the path. ¡°Is there anyone else we are waiting¡¯ for?¡±


    ¡°No, not right now,¡± Matt said.


    ¡°Well,¡± Benji said quietly. ¡°We had another. A fanged folk. He went to hunt a deer.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± Gideon stopped walking and looked down sadly. ¡°That is¡­ That is a problem.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± Kait asked, looking concerned.


    ¡°The grove is not safe anymore. Hence why I covered the path. Your friend is out on his own? He is in danger right now.¡±


    ¡°We have to help him, then,¡± Sarah said, turning to go back, but the stairs of vines were gone, and the undergrowth behind them had grown even higher.


    ¡°Well, let¡¯s not be rash, dear,¡± Gideon said gently. ¡°Exposing all of us to danger for one man with a rumbling tummy is not quite the decision I would come to. I will take you all to the sanctuary and that will be the start of our little search. Meanwhile, I¡¯ll get you what you¡¯ll be needin¡¯ for that lock. Two birds with one stone, eh?¡±


    Kait did not like the idea of leaving Jack alone but something else made her more nervous than that. ¡°Why not just have the forest find him for us?¡±


    Gideon frowned. ¡°The grove won¡¯t be doing anything like that.¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡± Benji asked. ¡°I don¡¯t know too much about the Verdant, but I know druids can commune with the forests.¡±


    ¡°Well that¡¯s the rub right there, ain¡¯t it? This ain¡¯t the Verdant¡¯s grove anymore.¡±


    ¡°I came here a lot when I was younger,¡± Kaitlyn said. ¡°I remembered there being more druids. And it wasn¡¯t so dark. So sad.¡±


    ¡°Oh!¡± Gideon said, brightening. ¡°Are you a Red Magic user?¡±


    ¡°I am,¡± Kait said with a nod. ¡°And this place was not so dour.¡±


    ¡°Aye, it wasn¡¯t,¡± Gideon said, shaking his head. ¡°So, what is nomad life like? Roaming wherever you will?¡±


    ¡°It was tiresome. I enjoyed getting the chance to settle down,¡± Kait said. She was getting upset that he changed the subject, but maybe he was just lonely? ¡°What happened to the grove, Gideon?¡±


    ¡°In a single word?¡± The druid turned his head, lifting his shillelagh close to his chest. ¡°The Overgrowth.¡±


    ¡°The what?¡± Matt asked.


    ¡°To put it plainly, just like there are humans in the world who wouldn¡¯t blink at choppin¡¯ down the trees all over Kraagheim, there are trees who wouldn¡¯t drop a leaf to help humanity survive. That side of nature is called the Overgrowth.¡±


    ¡°This grove wants to kill us?¡± Sarah asked loudly, her temper beginning to flair. ¡°And Jack is out there? By himself? Matt. We need to find him.¡±


    Matt looked from Sarah to Gideon as they continued to walk, and then stopped to think.


    ¡°Trust me,¡± Gideon said, continuing to walk without the group. ¡°You do not want to go looking without me.¡±


    The Crew looked down as the weeds and grass were already beginning to grow. Kaitlyn yelped as a vine sprouted and began to twist and climb her leg.


    ¡°You! Druid!¡± Benji shouted. ¡°Stop. My friend is out there and I need to find him!¡±


    Gideon stopped and sighed. ¡°Look, friends. I¡¯m going to be frank. I did not want to be frank because I understand this will be a sensitive conversation. But look here, no choices now, huh? Unavoidable.¡±


    ¡°Out with it, Gideon!¡± Benji barked.


    ¡°Jack is in grave danger. It¡¯s just a matter of finding him. How about we get ourselves to the one damn tree that let¡¯s me commune with her and we¡¯ll find out where your friend has bounced off to. Does that sound agreeable? Or would you rather plan a group funeral over breaking that lock of yours?¡±


    The Crew was stunned. Was this a joke? The matter of fact tone Gideon took made it hard to take his word, but the lack of contrary evidence unsettled them all. And while they stood, Kaitlyn still felt the gnawing sadness.


    ¡°Where are the druids, Gideon?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re dead, dear,¡± he said, just as plainly. ¡°Now let¡¯s get back on the path before those vines get to your brains, yeh? The sanctuary is just up here. I¡¯ll start chatting with the mother tree there to find Jack.¡± Gideon held out his hand again to the Crew.


    Matt looked at the other two, as Sarah and Benji began to tear up. It was clear they did not appreciate their powerless situation. Kait wanted to express her sadness and fear, too, but she was afraid of what would happen if the sorrow of the land beneath her got a foothold in her heart.


    ¡°Come on, guys,¡± she whispered. ¡°Come on.¡± She pulled her foot out of the tangle of plants and walked to where Gideon was waiting.

 The Weave

    The priestess grumbled her way across the East Rest. She had been in a sour mood since Sam had left for Happfield Chapel that morning. Maribel and Shiner had helped him onto the small, ramshackle wagon headed east out of The Throne and saw him off. Afterwards, Shiner had invited her to, as he put it, a romantic breakfast at Madge¡¯s.


    But Maribel turned him down. She had decided in Braver¡¯s office yesterday, when the two had learned they were being reassigned, that she would go to East Rest to let Sam¡¯s family know he was safe after the riot. But Sam was being reassigned to one of the Chapel¡¯s that the Wrath Liches were going to be attacking. She would not be making any guarantees about his safety after today.


    What had Sam said his family¡¯s surname was. Eldon? Belton?


    Finally, she saw a large manor behind a thick, white stone brick wall. An iron gate was flanked by large lion statues. At the feet of each lion was a plaque reading ¡°Estin.¡±


    ¡°Was this it?¡± she muttered to herself. Maribel gave a cursory, searching look up and down the row of large, decorated homes, and shrugged. ¡°I mean, maybe they¡¯ll know.¡±


    Maribel tested the gate and was surprised when it opened inward. They just leave this thing unlocked? For anyone to come walking in? The yard was brilliantly manicured. The bright green grass stopped immediately at the stone footpath leading up to the double doors made of beautifully shined dark wood.


    Landscaping projects littered the lard. Small ponds with stone benches. A purposely perfect cluster of small fruit trees or shrubs. Plots of flowers that were still blooming. These people had to have a druid on payroll to keep the grounds looking this nice.


    She studied, too, the brick home of her modest friend. The dissonance tickled her, truthfully. If she had grown up here, you could bet she would not be swinging a scepter and running paperwork for the God of Civilization.


    When Maribel reached the doors to the home, she noticed a thin velvet rope to serve as the doorbell ringer. She gave it a couple gentle tugs and heard the magical chimes echo inside the home. The wait for an answer was strange. She could only justify it as the size of the house. Sam¡¯s family was probably sitting way in the back in massive comfortable chairs with hands full of delightful food and drink, and her ringing of their bell set into motion a chorus of ¡°allow me, dear¡± and ¡°no sweetie, you stay here.¡±


    Amid her reverie, Maribel did not notice the approach of a middle-aged woman. ¡°Um, hello, how can we help you?¡± she asked, the concern on her face had been something Maribel prepared for.


    ¡°Hello, Mrs. Estin. Are you familiar with Sam?¡±


    ¡°He is my son,¡± she said, looking more concerned. ¡°I heard about the riot. Nothing has happened¡­?¡±


    ¡°Great, I found the house,¡± Maribel said with her warmest smile. ¡°Your son is perfectly safe. He is on his way to an assignment, but he did not have time to say something to you all, so I wanted to stop by.¡±


    ¡°Oh Dreamer!¡± Sam¡¯s mother began to tear up.


    Why was she about to cry? She just said her son was safe. Did she mishear Maribel?


    ¡°That is so sweet of you, dear! Please! Come inside,¡± Sam¡¯s mother pulled Maribel into the beautiful house.


    ¡°Who was at the door, mom?¡± asked a young girl with Sam¡¯s same blond hair from behind an upper level banister. She was wearing what seemed to me a man¡¯s shirt, much too large for her, and stained with paint.


    ¡°She is a friend of your brother¡¯s. Get out of that disgusting shirt and come down and say hello.¡±


    ¡°Oh, ma¡¯am, I¡¯m sorry,¡± Maribel said, trying to slow their trip deeper into the house. ¡°I truly do not want to impose on you all.¡±


    ¡°Nonsense!¡± Mrs. Estin sang. ¡°A friend of Sam¡¯s is a friend of ours and he has been so hard to see. Can you imagine he has only visited us six times in the four months he has been here?¡±


    Maribel was being pulled into a guest room littered with those snacks and beverages from her daydream, apparently set out ¡°just in case.¡± She definitely could see Sam avoiding this. If he spent every weekend up here he would have been twice as large.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    ¡°You will have to excuse Sam¡¯s father. He is at work at this time of day,¡± Mrs. Estin said, setting Maribel in a large red chair, then moving to the table to begin preparing a plate of plump grapes. Maribel figured they were for the woman, but then Sam¡¯s mother spun on her heels and pushed the plate in Maribel¡¯s direction. At some point in the spin, the woman had added a block of yellow cheese and a thick slice of bread to the plate. This woman was a wizard of hospitality.


    ¡°Oh, it is no trouble. Like I said I was just wanting to let you all know Sam was safe.¡±


    ¡°And we appreciate that. My oldest was just asking me about him. She was going to go to Back City while she was down in the lower levels shopping for her wedding, but the tunnel was blocked off. That was how we heard about the riot. Such a shame.¡±


    The young girl appeared in the doorway, now in a soft yellow shirt and a dark purple skirt.


    ¡°Diane, come say hi to-¡± Suddenly, Sam¡¯s mother went pale. ¡°How could I have been so rude! We have not even introduced ourselves. Marie Estin. This is Diane, my youngest child.¡±


    ¡°Sister Maribel,¡± the priestess said, standing to bow slightly.


    ¡°No no no,¡± Marie said quickly. ¡°Stay seated. You came all the way up from Back City. You have to be tired.¡±


    Maribel was first wondering where the servants or maids were. For a house this large, she would have thought they would be absolutely necessary. But after speaking to Marie for such a short time, she could see plainly that she could handle this entire building alone.


    ¡°The sister has come to tell us that Sam is safe,¡± Marie said with an excited nod.


    ¡°Oh, that is great news,¡± Diane said softly, with genuine relief. ¡°I hope that the riot was not too dangerous for you all.¡±


    ¡°There were rioters who were lost,¡± Maribel said truthfully. ¡°But, thank the Dreamer, no one from the mission was even injured, and your son was honestly the one to thank.¡±


    Marie¡¯s eyes went wide. ¡°Truly?¡±


    ¡°Yes ma¡¯am,¡± Maribel said, smiling at the excitement of the mother. She went on to explain Sam¡¯s idea to summon the windburst. The Estins listened, completely enraptured by the tale of their son¡¯s heroics.


    Seeing how happy they were to hear about Sam made her so much more comfortable. She even popped a grape into her mouth as Marie went on and on about how happy she was to see Sam recovering from his ¡°setback¡± at the Abbey.


    Maribel had no idea what she was talking about, but his mother treated it like a sour subject that even she did not know much about.


    ¡°That is just amazing,¡± Diane said with awe in her eyes. ¡°I can¡¯t believe the Wrath Liches came into the city.¡±


    ¡°I would not worry too much about them,¡± Maribel replied. ¡°The Church is moving to ensure that this will never happen again. And with your brother on our side¡­¡± Maribel trailed off to let his sister and mother fill in the rest with their imagination.


    The two women went starry-eyed. A perfect hit.


    After continuing to chat about Sam¡¯s undertakings in Back City and eating a few more of the wonderful, albeit somewhat wasteful, snacks spread in the guest room, Maribel moved to excuse herself.


    ¡°Now, before I overstay my welcome in your beautiful home, I¡¯m afraid I should be headed back to the mission.¡±


    Diane looked almost relieved to not have to entertain. ¡°It was wonderful to meet you, sister. Have a safe trip back down.¡± Immediately, the young woman zipped from the room.


    ¡°Let me walk you to the door, Sister. Your plate please?¡± Marie took the plate from the priestess and led her out into the main corridor of the mansion. Hanging on the sides were beautiful portraits, and just before reaching the entry foyer was a tapestry that Maribel had not had time to notice before.


    There was no contiguous image. Just a pattern of beautiful gold trimming within a field of deep blue. A stunning piece of work. She would love more time to look at it.


    ¡°Let me run this to the kitchen, Sister, then we will continue our journey to the exit,¡± Marie said with a chuckle at her own joke. She moved down into a side room.


    Maribel excitedly turned to continue studying the tapestry. In the bottom right hand corner, there was a slight mistake in the fringe work. Two of the fringes were just too far apart. It was something that would normally go unnoticed, but Maribel had been studying fabrics since she was a child.


    She took the fringe work in her hand to double check. Just as she had expected, it was not a mistake in the traditional sense. Whoever had made this tapestry had put this little hiccup in the piece intentionally.


    Just as Maribel oved to look at the rest of the piece, Marie coughed. ¡°Sister, this is one of my treasured possessions.¡±


    ¡°My apologies,¡± Maribel said, bending at the waist. ¡°I just enjoy fine cloth work.¡±


    Marie Estin¡¯s eyes lit up. ¡°As do I, my dear.¡±

 The Carpenter Scene VII

    Druids once called it ¡°webbing.¡± After the talent of spiders to skirt on the outsides of objects and connect fine points into works of art. The druid uses their skills to unobtrusively probe the finer, surface details of others¡¯ minds to pick up on useful facts. For many, it would be a hometown, or the name of a child, or a hobby. Something that would innocently help build a rapport with the one you were speaking with. It was not something many druids did. It was largely seen as offensive these days. But Gideon did not find it problematic.


    Gideon had been probing these visitors since they crossed into the grove and they each had one single detail connecting them. The same single detail. Evidently this Matthew Carpenter was a very horrid man.


    Even the shaman, who seemed to be his wife, had what she called love for the man, but Gideon knew the look of fear and confusion in an aura.


    Though Gideon¡¯s physical body was leading them, spiritually, Gideon was sitting in the short grass in the heart of the grove with a deep, forest green aura surrounding his body. The infinite darkness of the Verdant Stage spread out around him in every direction. To his left, a massive bear with a golden aura lumbered through the forest, away from the group. Good choice, friend.


    Above, a silver-lined falcon circled and cried.


    Quiet now, Zephyr, I¡¯m trying to work. The raptor looked down to Gideon then banked to land, hovering in the darkness.


    Sporadic sprouts  and seedlings dotted the shadows, but otherwise, the only other figure was a golden stag and the vague colorful splotch that signaled the position of the visitors. The forest refused to communicate with him unless it was too young to know the Overgrowth had destroyed the druids here.


    Suddenly, one of the color splashes, brighter than the rest, broke off after the stag.


    We''re just a little too close. No problem, we¡¯ll find him. Take care of him, please! Gideon urged. The brightness of the man¡¯s color spoke volumes. He would have to be a fanged folk, the only lineage that still has that feral, instinctual logic so close to the surface. He would be fine, Gideon hoped.


    The druid¡¯s attention turned back to the group. The aura of the shaman woman was pulsing with the heartbeat of a near-anxiety attack. He knew this sight. The nomads who had tried to visit the grove after the disaster all reacted the same way. The bloodied ground beneath him was talking to them. Mourning.


    C¡¯mon girlie, you can do it, he whispered to her, and her bright orange aura stabilized. For now. Gideon watched it for a moment to confirm she had calmed before turning to the murky, purple thing beside her.


    There was a rush of metaphorical wind in his imaginary interpretation of the Verdant Stage as the druid moved to scope out the brink of Matthew Carpenter¡¯s mind. Pain, anger, broken home. Same old, same old. Every slimeball this side of Crossroads had the same story. Not all of them had such a talented wife, but all of them were awful people.


    But Gideon noticed something else about Matthew. When the druid probed the Shaman, she reacted. The Fanged folk, the small, loud woman, and the brutish softie, as well. This purple mud of a human hardly turned his direction. It was a little hurtful.


    Also, though, a little promising. If Matthew ignored him, then Gideon could possibly go deeper. With a second gust, Gideon approached the aura of the man, and greeted Matthew with a tendril of Green Magic. There was no reaction.


    What an egomaniac. Can not even answer a probe of his own mind?


    And so Gideon did something that druids did not often do. He reached out and touched the aura. Curious to see what kind of lock this man was protecting himself with. He was startled when it swelled and swirled, taking Gideon in.


    In front of Gideon, suddenly, was an office. Matthew, manifest fully, was pacing back and forth over the body of a well-dressed man with only half of a head and a hole burnt in his chest. A woman that looked only vaguely like Kaitlyn with no aura and red eyes stood off to the side grinning smugly.


    Matthew was muttering, and Gideon only made out some of it: ¡°Just need you to burn it¡­  You¡¯re my weapon¡­  I¡¯ll give you a kid if you need it¡­ I want this more, though¡­ More than a kid, and more than you¡­ I need this¡­ I want this¡­ I don¡¯t need you when I have this¡­¡±


    What a mess. No wonder everyone hated him. After a moment more of morbid-curiosity driven eavesdropping, Gideon decided to move, to intercept the group.


    As Gideon led Sarah, Benji, Kaitlyn, and the dour, seething Matthew to the center of the grove, he kept a careful watch over Kait¡¯s Verdant personage. The earth was affecting her profoundly, and Gideon was beginning to worry about her.


    That bright yellow in her core when he first saw her aura? He had waived it off as a trick of the light, or a unique flare for her. Not uncommon after all. But after getting up close, he could tell what she was, beyond a doubt. Auras changing colors is nearly impossible. A slow process when it is healthy, marked by layers of changing ideas or thoughts, and an instantaneous one when unhealthy, caused by traumatic injury to the mind and persona. The most common way to shift one¡¯s aura, though, was to become a parent.


    Though calling Kait a mother may be a bit of a stretch. This thing was barely there, after all. She had probably had some morning sickness and her trousers were maybe a little tighter. But that would be about it. It would take quite some time before the baby¡¯s own aura began to establish itself.


    ¡°How far is the mother tree?¡± the large one, Benji, asked. ¡°I¡¯m truly worried about Jack.¡±


    ¡°We will be arriving right about now,¡± Gideon said as they came up to a curtain of thick hanging vines. With a wave, the vines moved aside to reveal a small, emerald clearing carpeted with thick, plush grass. It was nearly a perfect circle within the dense forest, apart from the huge mother tree directly across from their point of entrance. A small, shaky shed stood off to the side that Gideon used as his shelter.


    ¡°So,¡± Gideon began as his guests looked around the small area. ¡°This is the heart of the forest. Make yourselves comfortable. I¡¯m gonna find your friend.¡±


    Without even a cursory glance to his guests, Gideon approached the mother tree, simultaneously moving into the Verdant Stage. As the shadows fell on the world, the mother tree remained lit, but instead of by the sun, by a bright lime aura.


    Hey there Gideon! The mother tree cheerfully called. It had the voice of a young woman, sounding much younger than the tree appeared.


    Good afternoon, m¡¯dear. I need a little help.


    What can I do? Who are your friends?


    Just some visitors looking for some druid magic. Not a worry. Except one of their friends hopped off the trail back at the edge of the grove. Can you help me find him?


    Easy! With that simple word, there was a pulse to the shadows, then the darkness began to fill with the dim lights of the grove¡¯s auras. All plants and animals that refused to communicate with Gideon, but would at least acknowledge the tree. The tree was doing its best to describe the forest in this splash of colors. It was not perfect, but it was enough.


    To the southeast was the lumbering bear. Above was the circling falcon. And then, the stag standing alone amidst a handful of the emerald sprouts too young to ignore Gideon.


    With a heavy sigh, the druid turned, returning to the waking world as he did. ¡°Bad news I¡¯m afraid,¡± he said softly.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    The group did not react. They had steeled themselves for this when Gideon had first mentioned the prospects of danger.


    ¡°We are gonna have to move quickly if we are going to get your friend,¡± Gideon said pragmatically as he hefted his shillelagh. ¡°So here¡¯s what we¡¯ll do. Matty-boy, your lock pick is in my shack. Above the mattress is a crate with vials. You¡¯ll see a small one with a green cork, just four little seeds. Go and fetch that while I find Jack.¡±


    ¡°Right, we appreciate it,¡± Matthew said solemnly.


    ¡°As for the expecting mum, I think it best if she comes with me. Safest way, after all.¡± Kaitlyn took a step forward. Then froze.


    Gideon looked across the four. Benji, still misty-eyed from the talk about Jack was looking around, seeming to run calculations on the words just spoken. Sarah¡¯s eyes were wide with shock. Matthew was dumbstruck, and quickly turning red.


    Dammit Gideon, he thought to himself. Always check and see if it¡¯s a secret first. You know better. Rookie mistake.


    ¡°We¡¯re going to have to talk about this,¡± Matthew said in a frightfully foreboding way as he pushed past Kaitlyn toward Gideon¡¯s shack.


    ¡°Matt, wait,¡± she called.


    ¡°Go.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll soften him up,¡± Sarah whispered. ¡°Go with Gideon. But yeah, we will have to talk about this later.¡±


    Kait looked at Gideon with sad eyes, and then up to a still confused looking Benji. Gideon set a calming hand on her shoulder and led her to the edge of the forest. ¡°I¡¯m very sorry,¡± he whispered.


    Gideon forced aside the vegetation immediately ahead of them as the pair moved in the direction of the stag. It was a long and quiet walk. Gideon was relieved. He hated talking to people after such awkward situations.


    Especially when they were his fault.


    Kaitlyn eventually broke the silence. ¡°So, Gideon. Why did you stay after the Overgrowth killed the druids here?¡±


    Gideon took a deep breath. ¡°Well, sometimes we stick with something painful because it¡¯s the right thing to do.¡±


    Kait laughed. ¡°Truly.¡±


    ¡°Why do you think staying with Matt is the right thing to do? Apart from the child, of course?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I just feel like he needs someone to calm him down.¡±


    ¡°Well, what about you? Who will calm you down?¡± Gideon could tell that Kaitlyn was frightened by her own emotions. He had never met a shaman so perplexed by the feelings around her. Usually, red magic users impressed their own feelings onto the land around them, but this girl seemed to allow herself to be impressed upon. Her magic was probably stronger for it.


    ¡°I have never had trouble keeping myself calm, but Matthew? He is a time bomb.¡±


    ¡°Surely. Quiet now, dear. We¡¯re nearly there.¡± Up ahead, the density of the grove gave way, if only slightly. It was not like the clearing where the mother tree stood. Weeds and bushes still sprouted from its center, but momentarily, the trees were fewer. In the center stood a huge, muscular stag, its neck bent toward the ground, the muscles thumping as the creature fed.


    ¡°Kraag,¡± Kait said lightly, her voice trembling as Gideon stepped into the clearing.


    The small sapling trees that dotted the area were bending slightly under the weight of a crimson splatter. As the druid approached, the stag lifted its head and turned to look at Gideon. Light lichenous vines dangled from its massive antlers.


    ¡°Leave it,¡± Gideon said, holding his hand out to the stag¡¯s mouth. The creature, like a trained dog, spat a wad of half chewed paper into his waiting hand. ¡°Now, where did you get this from?¡±


    The beast turned to point with a hoof at a leather pouch, soaked with the same crimson color. Gideon knelt to pick it up and showed it to Kaitlyn.


    ¡°Is this¡­?¡± Gideon asked, knowing he did not need to finish the question. Kaitlyn slowly nodded, and the quiet then exploded into a frightening cacophony. The stag whistled as it reared and kicked.


    Crows began screaming as they dove into the small clearing from all directions. Kaitlyn screamed with them as she shielded her head from the sharp beaks and beating wings. The air suddenly became dry and crackling with the shaman¡¯s fear, and Gideon dove in her direction.


    ¡°Move shaman!¡± he cried out, as static charges began leaping across the birds flocking around them. ¡°Get a hold of that fear and run!¡±


    Kait kept shrieking as Gideon grabbed her by the shoulders and ran her into the woods. The crows went to give chase but Gideon swung his arms widely, sending thorned vines erupting from the ground and tangling into the murder. The screeches of the flock and the tears of flesh filled the air as Gideon ran his charge back in the direction of his sanctuary.


    ¡°We¡¯re back!¡± Gideon shouted cheerily as he led Kait back into the clearing. Benji, Sarah, and Matt were all seated on the soft grass in the center. They looked despondently in the druid¡¯s direction. Sarah and Benji lit up when they saw the safe, but shaken, Kaitlyn. Matt, though, grimaced.


    ¡°No Jack?¡±


    Kaitlyn gave the group a sad look as she walked over to give Benji and Sarah Jack¡¯s leather bag.


    ¡°He shouldn¡¯t have gone after that stupid deer,¡± Benji blubbered as he began to cry. The three consoled one another as Matthew walked around them to Gideon.


    ¡°Druid! How did you let this happen? Do you know how important Jack is?¡±


    ¡°For your theft?¡± Gideon asked. It was impossible to tell if he was being genuine or not. Matthew soured instantly.


    ¡°I would watch the way I speak, Gideon.¡±


    Gideon looked into Matt¡¯s eyes and waited for a beat. ¡°...Or what?¡±


    Matthew looked back to his wife. ¡°Kaitlyn, I need you.¡±


    She looked at her husband sadly. ¡°Matt, we got what we needed, dear. We should just go. Leave Gideon to the grove.¡±


    ¡°The grove that murdered my friend?¡±


    ¡°Jack was a friend to all of us,¡± Sarah barked, growing temperamental. ¡°But you don¡¯t see us getting bloody-eyed at strangers about it.¡±


    ¡°Gideon is more than a stranger,¡± Matt hissed, looking back at the druid. ¡°He¡¯s a murderer.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t kill your friend, Matty. ¡®Twas the grove. Gonna have to burn the whole damned grove if it¡¯s vengeance you¡¯re wantin¡¯.¡±


    Matthew zipped through the clearing to Kaitlyn¡¯s side. ¡°Kaitlyn! We need to burn this place down!¡±


    ¡°Matt,¡± Kaitlyn said, looking up with eyes puffy from tears. ¡°Calm down please.¡±


    ¡°You want me to calm down? After your little escapade got my friend killed in some damn woods that you visited as a little girl? Some nomad pit of stinking tree lovers that can¡¯t even keep their own magic under control enough to keep themselves from being killed? I refuse to just calm down about this. Because this is your fault.¡±


    ¡°My fault?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re soft, Kaitlyn. Now that you have family on your mind you just want this over and done with even though you know we need to do this.¡±


    ¡°Matthew, what are you talking about? This whole theft thing is your idea. I did not want to come all the way over here.¡± Kaitlyn was sputtering. The sudden argument unearthing things she had never given voice to. ¡°If this is anyone¡¯s fault, we can blame your father.¡±


    Suddenly, Matthew¡¯s pupils dilated and his hand whipped across Kaitlyn¡¯s face. ¡°Don¡¯t you talk about him again!¡± Matthew roared. But his bellowing turned to screams as a thorn-studded vine ripped into his wrist.


    ¡°Quite enough, Matty,¡± Gideon said, strolling over casually as Benji and Sarah watched in horror. Matthew continued to struggle and scream, and so Gideon rapped his forehead with the weight at the head of his walking stick. ¡°I said enough. You¡¯ve overstayed your welcome, Mister Carpenter. Take the things I gave you and remove yourself from my grove.¡±


    With a wave, Gideon opened the path back out of the grove the way the party had come, and ordered the vine to sling Matthew in the road¡¯s direction. A splash of blood was slung with him and Matt whimpered in pain.


    Matthew looked at the druid, hatred spilling out of his entire visage. His gaze snapped to Sarah and Benji, who looked at one another and then down to Kaitlyn. The shaman was doubled over, looking smaller than she ever had before, her fingers brushing on her reddened cheek.


    ¡°Sarah. Benji.¡± Matthew said sharply.


    Benji obeyed immediately and began to walk to the edge of the clearing ahead of Matthew.


    Sarah continued to watch Kaitlyn, and so Matthew barked her name again. And so she began to leave. With his two childhood friends back with him, Matthew began to approach his wife.


    ¡°No, no, Matty,¡± Gideon said. ¡°You can leave her be.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine, Gideon,¡± Kaitlyn said, a sharpness in her voice that Matthew had never heard. It stopped him in his tracks. ¡°I¡¯m going with him. I¡¯m going to steal his treasure with him. Because then I can raise my child without his ghost haunting me.¡±


    ¡°What are you saying Kait?¡± Matthew asked, his face softening wholly.


    ¡°I¡¯m saying that once my child is safe, I don¡¯t need to stick with you anymore.¡± And with those words, Kaitlyn walked around Matthew and moved to join Sarah and Benji on the road out of Gideon¡¯s grove.

 The Exiled Minister Scene III

    The city square of Dawnbreak was a world renown architectural marvel. With the city built on a river delta, most of its structures were erected over dredged lands, or the mud exposed from redirected waterways. The cathedral and city square however are built immediately adjacent to the harbor.


    This allowed the cathedral access to its highly defended naval shipyard, and it allowed the square to be readily repurposed as a military or cargo staging ground.


    The square itself was special, though, because it was a brick plaza laid across a flying deck over the harbor¡¯s calm waters. Grates and vents were dotted throughout to relieve pressure from any rogue waves or higher tides.


    The square was usually full, though, of young people drinking coffee together, or older people playing Divine Intervention. And as the crowds enjoyed the evening in the square, they were unaware that to the west, hidden behind Dawnbreak¡¯s buildings, the sun was setting.


    The sky was a tangy twilight-pink when the square began to tremble. There was no time to react when suddenly, pillars of briny water erupted from every grate throughout the square at a single time.


    Citizens ran screaming before being knocked off of their feet by the torrent. Furniture and flower beds were sloshed across the ground as the deluge roared up from below the city.


    And the rush of floodwater stopped just as quickly as it came. Displaced, confused fish and humans alike lay about the square, sputtering and gasping, doing their best to get their bearings once more.


    The center of the square was now littered with detritus from the sea. For those on the square, still flabbergasted by the sudden burst of water, it was just a pile of displaced rocks, coral, and seaweed.


    But on the wall of the Cathedral, Cayd and been watching the sun set when the explosion of water occurred below him. ¡°Hey, hey!¡± he shouted to the paladin. ¡°Go get the high sergeant!¡±


    In the center of the square, the Laughing Buccaneer had left the people of Dawnbreak a message. The dripping sea life read ¡°Get Ready!¡±


    ¡°What are we waiting for?¡± Tidus asked as he watched one of Zora¡¯s crewmembers stack cannonballs beside one of the ship¡¯s few cannons. After all, their magic was usually enough to sink a ship.


    ¡°I told you, Tidus,¡± Zora responded. ¡°The Church is sending reinforcements by sea and I won¡¯t be letting them arrive.¡±


    ¡°Why not just take the fortress now?¡± Tidus asked, almost whining. ¡°Hitting the square was just¡­  So fun.¡±


    ¡°Because once I¡¯m in the fortress, will you be of much help? I would rather have you on hand to sink their boats. The church is in some sort of panic right now. I guess they are having some form of riots up in the north. And they have lost Bridgefort.¡±


    ¡°Ha! Truly?¡± Tidus asked, baffled.


    ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯ve heard at least,¡± Zora said, shrugging. ¡°Evidently some slavers from the center of the Frozen Wastes have seized the fortress. We may be looking at the final days of the Will of Gessel.¡±


    Tidus suddenly grimaced.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±


    ¡°Gessel¡¯s a nice guy, Zora. Don¡¯t do this to hurt him.¡±


    ¡°Tell him it¡¯s nothing personal,¡± she said dismissively. ¡°And thank him for having his followers keep so much treasure on hand.


    ¡°Do you know what kind of reinforcements they are getting?¡±


    ¡°The message said three ships. Not a lot, but enough to make our day kind of rough. I want this operation to be smooth and painless.¡±


    Boldbounty and Cayd were standing side by side while the Cathedral¡¯s Mother Superior paced behind them.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    ¡°So, how do you fight an avatar, Mr. Cayd?¡±


    ¡°Me? Or anyone?¡±


    ¡°Either way as long as it gets me home safe,¡± Boldbounty said laughing.


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m really very glad the two of you can laugh about this,¡± the fanged folk priestess hissed. ¡°We are being threatened by a god!¡±


    ¡°I mean,isn¡¯t there Dorvan? He¡¯s right next door, right?¡± Boldbounty asked with a shrug. But the priestess continued to fume. ¡°Sorry, I¡¯m just trying to stay a little positive, is all.¡±


    ¡°I know, I know,¡± she said. ¡°But my people are at risk here, High Sergeant.¡±


    ¡°We do have some things working in our favor, least of which are the reinforcements on their way,¡± Boldbounty said.


    ¡°Reinforcements? From where?¡±


    ¡°From the Throne, had you not heard?¡±


    ¡°There is no official notice, High Sergeant. Where have you heard this?¡±


    ¡°Trust me, the source is a good one,¡± Boldbounty assured. ¡°Ordered directly from the Council.¡±


    ¡°Even though their missions are burning?¡±


    Cayd listened to the back and forth with a grin. ¡°I think we will be alright, Mother Superior. After all, doesn¡¯t Gessel provide for things like this?¡±


    ¡°Faith does little for the nerves, Cayd,¡± she said, looking down. ¡°Take my habit and focus for my saying that, but it¡¯s the damned truth. Tidus isn¡¯t known for pulling his punches, nor is the Sea Witch.¡±


    ¡°But she hasn¡¯t come directly for a cathedral yet,¡± Boldbounty reminded her. ¡°The trick is going to be staying informed about what she is doing, and luckily, Mr. Cayd has something for that. Mind showing her what we bought?¡±


    Cayd grinned widely and reached down beside him, where up to then, an iron lantern was resting inconsequentially on the cathedral¡¯s wall. He held the lantern up and waved his free hand. A thick, blue sphere enveloped the lantern. Cayd released it, and it continued to hover and head-level.


    ¡°Is this from that trinket peddler?¡±


    ¡°You mean that brilliant practitioner of blue magic?¡± Cayd corrected coyly. ¡°Yes, I bought it from him. And after some research, I found out what it was originally designed for.


    ¡°It¡¯s called a lumineer. The Duskfall Scholastic Rebellion used them to communicate with other lumineer holders, but it is really just a matter of syncing up with magical potential and then it should work.


    ¡°The good news is, your pirate queen doesn¡¯t have a lumineer, but we do know that she has a few enchanted trophies from people she has defeated.¡±


    The mother superior began to look bored, and so Cayd moved his explanation along. ¡°So, then it was a matter of locating the magic items, right? The one I like to use is her flag. Watch this, Mother Superior.¡±


    Cayd smiled as he held two open hands at the lumineer, his palms beginning to glow blue. There was a hint of the same blue light showing up in the tattoos on Cayd¡¯s wrists.


    Then, the sphere around the lumineer began to swell until it was three times larger than before. And in the midst of the blue glow, an image began to appear. The point of view was on the ground, looking up and off slightly, as though the flag were in storage. But sure enough, before them was the shape of a woman in a long cotton coat with a beaten leather hat in her hands.


    She was gesturing playfully at a mass of cloudy color immediately in front of her.


    ¡°What is this?¡± the Mother Superior asked in awe.


    ¡°Blue magic,¡± Boldbounty answered. ¡°Brutal, barbaric, sinful blue magic.¡±


    ¡°Cut it, High sergeant,¡± she snarked. ¡°Mr. Cayd. Why did we not start doing this earlier?¡±


    ¡°The math is,¡± Cayd grunted, doing his best to maintain channeling the spell. ¡°The math is hard. I have to continuously shift the calculations to make sure I stay honed in on it.¡±


    ¡°And what is the blob of color there?¡±


    ¡°An avatar, we presume. The Laughing Buccaneer,¡± Boldbounty answered for Cayd. ¡°The form is messing with the mana. Mr. Cayd, that¡¯s all we need right now. Unless she looks like she is about to attack us.¡±


    ¡°We won¡¯t be monitoring it permanently?¡± the priestess asked, seeming to miss Cayd beginning to look distressed.


    ¡°Until Cayd is on our payroll, I¡¯m not making him do anything,¡± Boldbounty laughed. ¡°We will need to be paying closer attention, though, now that we have this little threat.¡± The High Sergeant looked back down at the note from Tidus. Now that it was darker, the colors and shapes all blended together to simply make the words, making the message that much more foreboding.

 Bleedingheart X

    Three days of walking alone in snow-sprinkled pine forests gave Samson time to think. Think about how he was a confidant, yet here he was being sent to guard a Church facility. A job for a vanguard. His anger at being removed from his de facto home had stymied over the course of the hike. Yet his pangs of betrayal, and his sadness from missing Maribel and Shiner had not. And despite using a simple spell to lessen the weight of his armor and travel pack, he was beginning to ache from the effort of lugging it across the northernmost portions of The March.


    His thick cloak served well to cushion the shoulder straps of the pack, but his nights beside the road had offered little time for recovery. He was so relieved by the rough, cracking facade of the Happfield Chapel. It stood alone in a clearing in a pine forest, perched atop a lonely mound, most likely artificial. Sprinkled around were dirt roads terminating in stone foundations with nothing on them apart from slushy, melted and refrozed\n snow. The town that the chapel had supported had withered.


    A wrought-iron fence wrapped around the chapel with a large, bent gate in the center. Despite the rest of the run-down appearance, the grounds of the chapel were well groomed. Perfectly pruned trees dotted the yard with astoundingly clean hedges and creeping vines framing the weathered wooden door. All wonderfully green despite the cold. Just above, the three-story chapel boasted what would have once been a very impressive stained glass window, but now it was a grimy and dusty mess.


    With a mix of relief and melancholy, Sam pressed through the gate and approached the chapel. The creaking was shocking.


    ¡°Hey!¡± came a strident call from a spat of hedges. Sam looked to see an old woman with an intimidating pair of shears.


    ¡°Uh, hello!¡±


    ¡°Who are you?¡±


    Sam reached into a pocket inside his cloak for his orders of transfer. ¡°Corporal Bleedingheart from-¡±


    ¡°Church business! I don¡¯t need to hear about that!¡± she said sweetly. ¡°Just give me your given name. I like to keep it friendly. No business for me!¡±


    Sam was shocked. ¡°Uh. Sam. I¡¯m Sam.¡±


    The old woman strolled over to Sam. She was clad in a thick, cotton coat, and despite a pair of cloth muffs, the pointed tips of her ears poked out. She was an ethnic druid, and most likely, the reason the flora was still so bright and green.


    ¡°Well Sam, welcome to the chapel. You''re looking for Father Pryce.¡±


    ¡°I believe so,¡± Sam responded.


    ¡°Wasn¡¯t asking. Learn to listen, dear.¡±


    Sam did his best to stifle a chuckle, the woman noticed and laughed as well.. ¡°Good! There¡¯s the laugh. You looked so dour coming through the gate there. You lot with your armor and your robes need to lighten up. Let me take you in, Sam. Pryce is inside. Probably doing nothing.¡±


    Sam was led through the front door of the chapel. Contrary to its exterior, the inside was well kept, perfectly clean, and even the stained glass looked beautiful from inside. The massive installation was the visage of Gessel¡¯s avatar, a colossal man in massive white and gold armor with his gauntlet-clad hands folded over a greatsword plunged into the ground.


    ¡°Pryce! There¡¯s someone here!¡± the druid cried through the chapel, shattering the calming silence. At the front of the sanctuary, a figure stood and turned.


    ¡°Gretta, Gretta. Sweet Gretta. Stop yelling.¡± The man began to laugh.


    ¡°Shut up, old fool! Come talk to this boy so we can send him back on the road.¡± Gretta called back in a singsong manner. She looked down at Sam with a smile and a wink.


    ¡°Such a mood,¡± Father Pryce mused as he moved to approach. ¡°I suppose Corinne left you with some more of that tea?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t let the Hag on the property for any other reason! I¡¯m going back outside. Come get me when the food''s ready.¡±


    ¡°I hope Gretta did not offend you,¡± Father Pryce said softly. ¡°Her behavior toward me has often left me wanting.¡±


    ¡°Not at all, Father,¡± Sam said with a smile. ¡°She was just fine toward me.¡±


    ¡°A better concierge than houseguest,¡± Pryce said, wagging his finger. ¡°I am Father Pryce, of Happfield Chapel.¡±


    ¡°Corporal Bleedingheart. Samson Bleedingheart. Dispatched from the Back City Mission of The Throne.¡± Sam reached for his documents and passed them to Father Pryce. The old man touch them with trembling hands and turned them over, reading over them quickly.


    Father Pryce was not what Sam had become accustomed to from a priest. He wore modest robes, like Maribel did. But it had been clear that Maribel was rather new to the business. The priests that had been higher in years had wandered around the throne decked in trimmed, gilded cloths with towering hats or wreaths of pendants.


    Following that logic, Pryce should be crumpling under the weight of his dress. Yet this man was modest. Suddenly, he scoffed.


    ¡°Nathan¡¯s in executive charge of a mission?¡± he asked with incredulity. He shook his head. ¡°There¡¯s no way in Gessel¡¯s Will that¡¯s going well.¡±


    Sam¡¯s jaw dropped. He had never heard anyone, much less a priest, speak about another priest like that.


    ¡°Unless it is?¡± Pryce asked, looking mildly surprised.


    ¡°Uh, no-¡± Sam started. ¡°I mean, it is.¡± But then he thought about Nathan¡¯s leadership. ¡°Although. I guess-¡±


    Pryce broke Sam¡¯s nerves with a soft laugh. ¡°Welcome to the chapel, Sam. The apse in the far back corner is our old guardhouse. You can put your things there. It has its own well and spout, as well. Take as much time as you need to get settled in, but if you are interested, dinner will be ready in two hours or so.¡±The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    Sam, trying to wrap his head around the old man, gathered his things and made his way to the guardhouse.


    It was not the passage of time or hunger that brought Sam out of the guardhouse, but instead Gretta and Pryce¡¯s loud conversations. Now that he was out of his armor and in casual clothes, he was much more comfortable, and significantly better equipped to meet his new hosts.


    Sam stepped out and was surprised to see the main altar at the front of the chapel pushed toward the back of the stage. The shaky wooden table that was in its place was topped with a modest spread of open face sandwich makings. Pryce and Gretta were sitting at either end of the table and a third rickety chair was sitting empty. Gretta noticed Sam right away.


    ¡°Hey! Sam! Come eat. Pryce took several hours to just put some cheese on a plate.¡±


    Pryce laughed till he coughed, then turned to gesture Sam over.


    ¡°So, tell me, Corporal,¡± Pryce said, handing a slice of bread to the paladin. ¡°How has the Church of the Will treated you so far?¡±


    ¡°Well enough,¡± Sam said as he took the offer. ¡°Thank you for your hospitality.¡±


    ¡°Sam, let me tell you a secret,¡± Gretta said softly. ¡°When you get as old as the Father and myself here, you learn that it¡¯s better to skip the pleasantries. We aren¡¯t long for this world, after all. Just say what you mean.¡±


    There was an awkward silence and then Gretta and Pryce burst out laughing, and Sam looked down, embarrassed.


    ¡°Sam, sorry,¡± Pryce said, patting his shoulder. ¡°Did not mean to embarrass you. You don¡¯t need to tell us anything you don¡¯t want to.¡±


    ¡°No, no, it¡¯s okay.¡± Sam took a deep breath and looked up at the stained glass image of Gessel. For a moment he became homesick, and thought about how he had nothing to lose. Who knows how long he would be with these two anyway. And so Sam shared his story.


    The elderly couple rode the tale, listening intently. They laughed when they saw the Church¡¯s hypocrisy and humor, and got livid for Sam when he was beaten down by his leadership. They empathized with his near-death incident, and with his shame at his naming ceremony. And then he explained the circumstances that brought him to the chapel.


    Pryce scoffed at Brother Nathan¡¯s actions in the Lieutenant''s office. ¡°And neither of them told you why you would be coming? They just fed you some damnable ¡®sense of duty¡¯ garbage?¡± the old man grumbled.


    ¡°No, Father. They just sent me here with my paperwork and nothing else.¡±


    ¡°Well, you¡¯re smart. I¡¯m sure you understand it has something to do with the Wrath Liches that rioted, right?¡± Sam noticed Gretta wince at the mention of the Liches. He thought about how these two would almost certainly have been alive to see the scorching.


    ¡°I supposed they were connected.¡±


    ¡°Well, we happen to be a potential target for a raid of theirs. They wanted extra muscle.¡±


    ¡°So they sent me?¡± Sam asked, dumbfounded. ¡°The church always thought I was too weak-willed for vanguard work.¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s clear that Nathan wanted you gone,¡± Gretta chimed in. ¡°But I think it worked in our favor! You know both schools!¡± She smiled warmly, comforting Sam.


    ¡°What would they be raiding this place for?¡±


    Pryce straightened in his chair. ¡°I¡¯m sure you have heard of the Halcyon?¡±


    ¡°Of course!¡± Sam said with reflexive excitement. She was one of his biggest heroes. The most significant vanguard to work for the Will after Gessel¡¯s First Shield. She was known for donning a massive suit of armor. She carrier a tower shield and a silver blade, and wore a bright blue cape on the back of her armor. She rose to prominence to battle the Avatar of Pestilence and went on to defeat many other monsters and villains, becoming a hero of the Church of the Will.


    ¡°And you know about her enchanted armor? The armor sewn with gold magics so as to empower her beyond anything the Church could otherwise produce?¡±


    Sam frowned this time. ¡°Enchantments? The Church does not use enchantments. Nothing more than an alarm bell or a Justicar¡¯s Gavel, right?¡±


    ¡°Well that¡¯s the case now.¡± Pryce said forebodingly. Gretta grinned as Pryce shifted in his seat. ¡°During the Halcyon¡¯s time, though? We enchanted everything we could.¡±


    ¡°You see, will is an interesting thing. And way back when, we thought we had a handle on it. We believed that our will to carry out Gessel¡¯s Will would have been strong enough to imbue an item. Or we believed that Gessel¡¯s Will was strong enough to fall onto an item. The details did not really matter, just that we had figured out Blue Magic long before Duskfall did, and we hated ourselves for it.¡±


    ¡°Why is that?¡±


    ¡°Because the priests and paladins were no good at it,¡± Gretta chimed in. ¡°Half-baked stupid contracts. Self flagellations made manifest.¡±


    ¡°Precisely,¡± Pryce agreed. ¡°Sacrifice was the name of the game for our enchantments. Huge sacrifices. Ones that a person should not have to bear, especially a woman like the Halcyon.¡±


    Sam looked down, his imagination searching for what Father Pryce had meant before another question came to mind. ¡°So what does this chapel have to do with the Halcyon? Is her armor here?¡±


    ¡°Oh, no,¡± Pryce said, waving the idea away. ¡°That¡¯s locked away beneath The Throne. But the armor was not the crux of the enchantment. The key was a wristguard the Halcyon wore at all times. The Halcyon Band.


    ¡°That, Sam, is what rests beneath this chapel. That is what the Wrath Liches are seeking.¡±


    ¡°Why here?¡± was all Sam could think to ask. The question was answered with a long silence. Then Gretta guffawed.


    ¡°That is exactly what I asked when he told me he was harboring a magic bracelet.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not a bracelet,¡± Pryce retorted. ¡°It¡¯s a wristband.¡±


    ¡°Sorry,¡± Gretta said mockingly as she reached for another piece of bread.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe it. I¡¯m defending the legacy of the Halcyon. From the Church¡¯s greatest threats no less.¡±


    Pryce gave Sam a warm smile. ¡°There, son. That¡¯s what is worth seeing. Your story is hard, Corporal. Your heart, though, is not.¡±


    Sam looked with confusion.


    ¡°I mean to say that we all joined the Church for a reason. We all gave up our lives. Our last names because we believed in the Will of Gessel. Because we believed in the hope that civilization will last.


    ¡°And if you were motivated by the heroics of those that came before you, then remember that. The sacrifices you have made are nothing compared to what she has faced.¡±


    For a moment, Sam looked shamed, but Gretta interrupted.


    ¡°Do not misunderstand him, Sam. Everyone makes sacrifices. And every sacrifice is difficult. And you may never compare one person¡¯s hardships to another¡¯s. All it will do is make everyone really depressed.¡±


    ¡°Right, right,¡± Pryce corrected. ¡°I mean that you should just hold on to that motivation. Remember who and what you want to be. Don¡¯t let the Abbots and the Nathan¡¯s bring you down. Don¡¯t let them take away what you want to take from all of this.¡±


    ¡°I appreciate that,¡± Sam said, smiling. He was slightly taken aback by how serious the conversation had suddenly gotten.


    ¡°And you can apply that to life outside of the Church, too,¡± Pryce tacked on.


    ¡°Don¡¯t mind him,¡± Gretta interjected. ¡°He gets grim when he gets tired. Please, eat some more, Sam.¡±


    The young paladin, feeling suddenly welcome in this strange place, ate and talked with the elderly owners of the chapel late into the night.

 The Carpenter Scene VIII

    Matthew wiped beads of sweat from his brow as the man behind the desk flipped through pages and pages of thick parchment, bound haphazardly by twine. The man had a practiced stoicism. His eyes barely moved as they scanned the text. He had been in this position before. Matthew looked away for a moment, glancing at the pile of nicknacks arranged around the surface of the man¡¯s desk. Again.


    A familiar glass statuette.


    The same key to some city he still had not heard of.


    That ugly, fancy rock.


    Garbage. All of it. Matt had become intimately familiar with it all, though, as this dream repeated itself night after night.


    The man finally looked up from the document, as he had a hundred times already. ¡°Mr. Carpenter, your ledger is,¡± the man paused while he used his thumb to flip the corner of the page, ¡°extensive. And most of this property has been destroyed, ruined, or otherwise rendered completely useless beyond the capacity outlined when these funds were loaned to you.¡± Matthew could almost recite the lines with him.


    ¡°Well,¡± Matt muttered, his nerves causing his voice to quiver. ¡°It was never my fault. You see-¡± Funny how, despite knowing the situation, he could never find his own damned confidence. Dreams are funny like that.


    ¡°It says on the first page here to be wary of your excuses.¡±


    ¡°Honestly, sir,¡± Matthew urged. ¡°The farm near Hoodsholm was sacked by bandits. We had nowhere to go. We found a place to stay at The Throne-¡± The interruption used to bother him. Now it just meant he was one step closer to taking his frustration out.


    ¡°So you took a new mortgage despite sitting on a bandit-ravaged farm plot?¡± the banker asked.


    Matthew looked down sheepishly. Same shoes he wore every time he entered this dreamy office. A pair he had never owned in his life.


    ¡°Then the apartment in The Throne suffered water damage. So you took out another loan for repairs,¡± the banker glanced through the paperwork again to make sure his remarks were accurate. ¡°But then you moved to Crossroads? I wonder, how was it you got there?¡±


    Matt ignored that the cities were different again. They changed every so often in this recurring dream. But the major details never did. ¡°I had a friend in a caravan. But highwaymen hit us halfway there,¡± Matthew explained, again. This time, boredom creeped into his voice. ¡°The money that was meant to help us settle down went to making sure we would all be able to survive the trip.¡±


    The banker chuckled, ¡°but what about the apartment''s water damage?¡±


    ¡°The church taxed us heavily for the damage done to the streets. Even though it was their sewage system that flooded our place.¡±


    ¡°Mr. Carpenter,¡± the man said dismissively, ¡°it has been several years since your first outstanding payment notice. I honestly don¡¯t understand how you managed to swindle more money out of the banks after that. You are completely irresponsible and totally untrustworthy. Frankly, I feel bad for dear Mrs. Carpenter.¡±


    Finally, the part where Matthew was allowed to lose his temper. ¡°She trusts me!¡± he said, following the dream¡¯s script. He even pounded the desk this time. A flare he had added months back. One that he felt was tasteful. Potent.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you have some sort of redeeming quality somewhere in there,¡± the banker said, grinning a grin that would soon be full of molten stone. ¡°But it is surely not your financial acumen. This history you have of poor decisions and your penchant for putting yourself in such great volumes of debt to governments, friends, and institutions is counter-intuitive to any sort of family you would want to produce.¡± The banker sat back and folded his hands. ¡°Your father would be disappointed.¡±


    Matthew¡¯s chair crashed to the floor as he leapt to his feet. No matter how many times he saw this part play out, he would never control his temper. His father, even these dreams, was off limits. ¡°Do not ever talk about my father!¡± he roared as he had so many times before.


    The banker laughed as he looked down at the ledger, pleased with the damage he had done. ¡°Well, it¡¯s quite obvious really that I won¡¯t be seeing my geld today, correct me if I¡¯m wrong.¡±


    Matthew refused to let go of his rage. The conversation about the payments, he had learned early, was not necessary to this repetitive narrative. Matthew left the office quickly, angrily, but excited to see his wife on the bench outside. She would give him the weapon he would use to murder the banker, and would cheer him on as he did. It was the best part.


    But outside the office, things were different. It was a little darker. A little colder. And Kaitlyn was nowhere to be found. ¡°Kaitlyn?¡± Matthew called as looked up and down the hall. ¡°Kait?¡±


    After looking around, he turned back to the bench and could not stifle his shock when he saw a shape. It was a shadowy, inky patch in the vague shape of a man¡¯s torso. But it gave way to tendrils of smoky mist where the legs should be.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    Portions of the shape¡¯s head, though, had profound detail. A black, iron crown glinted in the dreamworld¡¯s light. Though he had no other discernible feature, the shape had two glittering red eyes. Brilliant gems shining against the harsh darkness of the rest of the personage.


    ¡°She is not here tonight, Matthew,¡± it said in an ill fitting baritone. His consonants were enunciated to perfection. Not a wisp of an accent in any syllable. ¡°Bridges burnt.¡± It turned its head to look at Matt, the red jewels twinkling.


    ¡°What are you?¡±


    ¡°A man with aspirations,¡± the shape sighed as it stood. Or rather, floated to a standing position. The smoky shadows near the floor continued to churn and billow with little else to change. ¡°But do we not all have those? I know you do. Night after night I let you murder that poor man you have never met.¡±


    ¡°You made this dream?¡±


    The shape chuckled. ¡°Do you think yourself imaginative enough?¡±


    Matthew opened his mouth, ready to snap at the remark but the shape simply laughed again.


    ¡°Do not raise your voice to me. I have watched you for months. I could fell you before you knew I had raised a hand.¡±


    ¡°Are you threatening me? In my dream?¡± Matthew challenged.


    Suddenly, the entity was about him, the shadows spilling around, blackening everything. Just the crown and the red eyes stood out amongst the smokiness. ¡°Your dream, Matthew? Your dream is to be feared. Not loved. Not respected. Feared. And what have you to show for it? Not a wife, for sure. This is not your dream. This is a playground provided to you by powers you can not comprehend. So find your place before me, lest I make a place for you beneath a gravestone.¡±


    Matthew was dumbfounded. The creature¡¯s tone was like a parent to a child. He had never been scolded like that before, even when his mother was still alive.


    ¡°Now that you have settled down,¡± the shape began as the shadows retreated. ¡°We can begin to triage your little mistakes.¡±


    ¡°What mistakes?¡±


    ¡°Please,¡± the shape said, raising a hand to dismiss Matthew¡¯s foolishness. ¡°I give you the same dream every night, and you can not see what you have done to ruin my advice to you?¡±


    Matthew looked around, thinking. Nothing came to mind.


    ¡°Your wife, Matthew.¡±


    ¡°Yes, she¡¯s not here,¡± he said matter of factly, before growing angry. ¡°What did you do with her?¡±


    The shape laughed again. His sense of humor was beginning to irritate Matt. ¡°Me? What did I do with her? Only try to show you that she is your most powerful ally. And yet you waste all this time, seeking out old friends. Playing Divine Intervention in bars on the side of the road. Slapping your wife in front of very powerful druids. You have destroyed the one relationship that was going to pay off for you in the end.¡±


    ¡°But she-¡± Matthew began. The dreamweaver was having none of it.


    ¡°But she nothing!¡± he shouted. ¡°It was you, you buffoon. This woman. This brilliant woman, maintaining the spark of greatness, chose to marry you. An unascended goddess! And she wants to have your child. And you hit her?¡±


    Matthew looked down in shame before his temper flared again. ¡°I don¡¯t need to hear this. Wake me up now.¡±


    ¡°No sir,¡± the shape said, closing in again. ¡°We need to get to the bottom of how we are going to make this work.¡±


    ¡°Make what work?¡± Matthew was livid, but curious.


    ¡°The Halcyon Band. You need that if you want to amount to anything in the world. After all, ¡®best husband¡¯ is already a wash for you.¡±


    Matthew seethed in silence.


    ¡°I am jesting, Matthew. Truly. You misread the signs. An honest, mortal mistake. But not one that we can not recover from. After all, your wife still offers her assistance in securing the Halcyon Band!


    ¡°After that, we may not need her. I have someone that will help with The Throne portion of this endeavor.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean? I¡¯m going to sell the Halcyon Band?¡±


    ¡°No, you¡¯re not. We both know that. You lie to enough people, Matthew. You should not lie to yourself. Now, how will you secure the Band at the chapel? I understand you have been studying the late Jack¡¯s documents?¡±


    Matthew was confused for a moment, but decided it would be best to indulge this creature. ¡°Well, yes. I have been. The lock. That will be easy. We will use the seed Gideon gave us. If there is a Paladin or an Interrogator on site, Kaitlyn will handle that.¡±


    ¡°Ah, send the pregnant woman to battle a soldier. How very chivalrous of you. No matter, once the lock is undone it will be easy to secure the device. After that, there is an inn on the road between Happfield and The Throne. That is where your new heavy will be waiting.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going to sell the Halcyon Band and stay with my wife,¡± Matthew asserted.


    The shade was quiet for a long moment. ¡°Right then. Whatever you say. You stand on the brink of greatness. You have evidence abundant that proves you are not mature enough for an adult relationship. Yet here you are before me claiming to be above your own petty vices. You adore power and strength, Matthew. Why do you think Dream Kaitlyn gives the weapons to you? Instead of using them herself as the waking Kaitlyn surely would.


    ¡°But yes. If you feel you will be able to resist the temptation of the Halcyon Band¡¯s power, then verily. March on, Mister Carpenter. I am eager to see you raise your child with pride.¡±


    The shade began to turn more and more transparent with every word until only the two red eyes remained. The hall of the bank returned to the way it had been all those dreams past, but still without his wife.


    The banker still sat in his office, gleefully chortling about the ways he had destroyed countless lives.


    ¡°Good luck, Matty!¡± the creature called.


    ¡°Matthew, wake up,¡± Kaitlyn¡¯s call was harsh. Short. The same as it had been for the past days since Gideon¡¯s Grove. She was truly sticking with her outrage.


    Matt felt a pang of emotion when he saw the bump on her belly. He was not sure what the emotion was, but it nearly brought tears to his eyes.


    ¡°I said, wake up,¡± she repeated. ¡°Benji says he can see the chapel up over the hill. Get up and let¡¯s get this over with.¡±


    ¡°Kaitlyn, I want to talk to you,¡± he said softly.


    ¡°About what?¡±


    ¡°What we¡¯ll do when this is over.¡±


    ¡°What will we do? I¡¯m going to find my parents. You¡¯re going to go the opposite direction.¡±


    ¡°Kaitlyn, don¡¯t talk like-¡± but she refused to listen any more. The woman left Matt in his tent. He sighed.

 Tides Mistress Scene III

    The enchanted seashell let off a slight coral glow in Zora¡¯s trembling hand. It was quite beautiful. The bleached shell gave off a soft light. It was taking all of Zora¡¯s willpower to not just allow her frightened self to just stare at it until the trouble had passed.


    Late in the night, Tidus had arrived unannounced. Three golden vessels were just over the horizon, and as soon as Tidus described them, Zora knew what was coming. The Church of the Will¡¯s coastal dispatch, usually a joke of a navy made of three ships that routinely travel from one side of Talnorel to the other. They make goodwill port visits, get involved in ceremonies, and send healers to tend to the ill.


    They never go to deep water and they never engage. That is not to say they are not well armed, but they have a proclivity to show up when one side was weakened as opposed to taking on their opponents in full force.


    ¡°They are going to attack us!¡± one of the rookie seamen had cried.


    ¡°No,¡± Zora had to explain. ¡°They are just delivering fortifications for the city.¡±


    ¡°Then we should stop them,¡± Johnston had urged.


    A full fleet against fleet engagement was out of the question. For some reason, Zora¡¯s crew could not see the beast circle like a vulture between the two teams of ships. Even with the additional two vessels Zora had picked up from their assault on Scott¡¯s secret shipyard, she knew she had no chance against the creature.


    Her ship would splinter.


    Her crew would drown.


    And she would be the one to blame.


    But the crew, namely Johnston and Tidus, cried out with frustration when Zora expressed her unwillingness to attack. They had a point. The whole crew was becoming restless. The messages had been sent two weeks ago. They were ready to begin the siege. Why could she not get over this? After all, no one else seemed to acknowledge the monster.


    But her fear proved to be too much. And so Zora compromised. ¡°Send the Heather,¡± she said decisively.


    Johnston instantly moved, knowing better than to challenge or check. If Zora was going to have second thoughts, she would have to hurry. Tidus, though, looked incredulous.


    ¡°By themselves?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Zora simply watched the hull of her newest vessel. Down the deck, Johnston signaled with a ball of flame for the Heather to attack. And just as he did, the crew of the ship asked no questions. In the morning twilight, Zora and Tidus watched the seamen pop salutes as they pulled up anchor and began to move.


    Slowly at first, but Scott¡¯s interred crew had brought with them a group of water-specialized shamans. Controlling the currents beneath the ship, they got their vessel moving with a shocking speed.


    ¡°What are we going to do captain?¡± The of the chief of the Heather¡¯s crew poured through the glowing shell, as if it rode on a wave. The further the ship moved, the clearer it became.


    ¡°Engage the enemy. We will gauge their reaction, move forward, and then the siege will have to begin.¡± Zora said the words into the shell, never pulling her eyes away from the shadow. Suddenly, the creature banked, flinging a huge, fluked tail into the air.


    ¡°Yes, Captain.¡± The waves continued, carrying the chief¡¯s orders over the shell, but they were distant. He was no longer holding the device to his mouth.


    ¡°You¡¯re killing them,¡± Tidus hissed quietly. ¡°Dreamer, Zora. What are you doing?¡± The Heather was speeding up, but Zora could not look away. She had to know.


    Was this beast capable of hurting her? That creature had commanded her life for a year. It was time to see what would happen. Zora was disgusted with herself, but these men and women? Frankly, they were not her crew.


    Zora¡¯s crew were her siblings and her children. She had been traveling with Johnston and a handful of others for nearly six years. They loved each other. The Heather and the other ship? They were orphans. Adopted. They could eventually become family, too. If they lived.


    ¡°Zora, the sun is coming up, and I swear,¡± Tidus pleaded. ¡°I have no damn idea what you are planning!¡±


    ¡°Shut up and watch.¡±


    ¡°Are,¡± Tidus suddenly sounded concerned. He leaned forward. ¡°Are you crying?¡±


    Zora could not bring herself to look at her god. She remained silent, watching the leviathan surge in front of the Heather.


    ¡°Are you okay? Please. Tell me, Zora.¡± Tidus looked up at Johnston. He was busy watching the Heather. The other crew members were at work, knowing better than to accidentally eavesdrop on their Captain when the Laughing Buccaneer was on board.


    The vessel met the shadow.


    It was a sound Zora could not describe. It arrived at the vessel just a moment after the flash of pale, yellow light. A needle-like line of pure gold rushed from the Church¡¯s fleet, too miniscule for anyone on the ship to tell which vessel launched the attack. But the sound it gave off was like a choir striking a chord at the end of a hymn inside a grand cathedral.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    The Heather was ablaze in an instant. Shouts and commands spilled from the shell as they attempted to save their ship. And Zora watched without surprise as the shadow responded. It seemed happy. There was a second choral chord but Zora did not even notice the shot, because the creature breached.


    It tore up from beneath the Heather, easily ten times larger than the ship itself. It towered up over the mast. A massive blue eyeball opened on the side of the beast and stared straight into her.


    A third shot from the Church vessels. This one missed the Heather at first, sending water splashing in every direction before it carved back on target.


    For Zora, though, the massive creature fell onto her allied ship. Ripping it beneath the sea. Her question was answered. She turned back from the gunwale to see the crew, looking in horror as the rest of the flotsam drifted about, still on fire, where the Heather went down.


    ¡°Chael¡¯s scruff,¡± Tidus cursed. ¡°What was that?¡±


    ¡°Some new paladin weapon it seems,¡± Zora said, with a renewed seriousness. The fear had abated with the confirmation of danger. Her mind was suddenly clear. Her dread, in Zora¡¯s eyes, had finally been validated. And now she could get to work. ¡°One that we will not be able to face off against. Scrap the entire damned siege plot as written.¡±


    ¡°Ma¡¯am?¡± Johnston seemed worried.


    ¡°It¡¯s not too troubling, Johnston. We have options. Hopefully they don¡¯t come near us.¡± The crew looked out to see where the Church¡¯s ships were. They did not even seem to slow from the Heather¡¯s approach. They were continuing along the horizon. They watched for some time, waiting for the lookouts to announce a change in course.


    ¡°They¡¯re still going to Dawnbreak?¡± someone asked.


    Zora looked at Tidus. Not angrily, just seriously. ¡°Did your wife snitch?¡±


    ¡°I have not been with you in the light of day, Captain Zora.¡±


    ¡°They may have found out you were with us, though,¡± Zora thought aloud. ¡°Even with that weapon, they don¡¯t stand a chance against the god of the sea. And if they are dropping off reinforcements, then that will be their priority.¡±


    Zora went silent, looking around her ship for inspiration. ¡°This is not a good situation. We can not fight them without risking our numbers too much. And I¡¯ll be damned if we throw away all this preparation.¡±


    The crew members responded with nods. Some of them responded unintentionally with the rumbles of their stomachs. Zora looked over them with concern. There was more than pride on the line.


    ¡°With that thing in the city, how will we besiege them?¡± Tidus asked. There were small gasps that a god would defer to a mortal, but these were extenuating circumstances.


    Johnston chimed in. ¡°The dockyard is walled in. They control entry to the city with a waterlock. If Tidus,¡± suddenly, Johnston paled. ¡°Uh, the Laughing Buccaneer. My apologies. If you could enter the city, you may be able to destroy the weapon?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re on to something, Johnston. Tidus?¡±


    The god shook his head. ¡°Since I left that note for the paladins, they¡¯ve blocked the waterways beneath the city. And the dockyard is too close to the chapel. I will not be able to form my avatar inside.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re kidding.¡± Zora looked annoyed. ¡°Now you decide to follow other gods¡¯ rules?¡±


    Tidus rolled his eyes. ¡°Zora, the Dreamer is a different situation entirely. You do not cross an elder god.¡±


    ¡°Fine. So you are out completely for attacking the docks?¡±


    The god sighed. ¡°I did not say that.¡± He shrugged. ¡°I could move into the city. Just not form within it.¡±


    ¡°So we just need to get him inside,¡± Johnston said. ¡°But we need to get into the city for that.¡±


    Suddenly, Zora was smiling. ¡°Oh, you idiot!¡± She playfully struck the ocean god. ¡°I can¡¯t believe I had not thought of it before! We can use the old sewage catacombs on the beaches north of the city.¡±


    ¡°Never heard of them,¡± Johnston said with curiosity.


    ¡°The nun that sewed our flag told me about them. They are years out of commission now that they have man-made sewage systems in the city, but way back when, they just dumped their shit and piss into the caverns under the city and let it run off into the ocean far enough out from the city that you could not smell it. They bricked it off, but nothing some gunpowder and red magic won¡¯t fix.¡±


    ¡°Then, from inside the city, you open the gate and let me in?¡± Tidus asked for clarification.


    ¡°Exactly. And we could probably shake things up even more with some light attacking on the wall. Not quite enough to warrant that weapon of theirs, but enough to keep them looking in sewers for a pirate queen.¡±


    ¡°Wait, ma¡¯am,¡± Johnston paused. ¡°You¡¯re going into the sewers?¡±


    The Captain looked stalwart. ¡°Of course. After I sent the Heather to their death, I owe it to them.¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Tidus was just as stalwart. ¡°That is asinine, Zora.¡±


    Zora starred the god down for a long moment. Then, over toward the horizon. A light pink glow was beginning to appear.


    ¡°Zora, you will not go. You are valuable.¡±


    ¡°The sun is rising, Tidus.¡±


    ¡°Zora. The Church will not be jesting when the Sea Witch shows up to burn their city. You have gotten them so nervous. They will skewer you!¡±


    ¡°How much time till sunrise, Johnston?¡±


    ¡°Zora, listen to me! After that Heather stunt, you are just going to punish yourself? Die because they did?¡±


    ¡°Sunrise proper still has a while, ma¡¯am, but Solanna¡¯s Time should begin any moment now.¡±


    Tidus screamed in fury, sending water surging up over the gunwale. ¡°Do what you want, fool. Let me know when you want your dog to bite!¡± Tidus leapt over the side of the boat, diving into the ocean. Zora watched him as he went over, and saw the twinkling jewel left behind by his avatar sink into the darkness.


    She stood up straight, took a deep breath, and turned to see the crew, still standing around. ¡°What are you all looking at? Get the row boat ready! We have until later in the morning when my team gets underway.¡±


    In the cathedral, Cayd sat in his room. A plush, warm chamber with a window over the sea. The lumineer hovered in the center, over a huge carpet of gold and red. The sound of the coastal dispatch opening fire on Zora¡¯s ships had woken him, and he had been unable to sleep again.


    For some reason, he found himself worried. His days of checking in on Zora had made him respectful of her attitude. Her snippy remarks and her ability to command the Laughing Buccaneer had stolen his heart.


    After being calmed by finding Zora very much alive, he became enraptured with watching the restructuring of the siege plan. This had been precisely what Boldbounty had wanted.

 Bleedingheart Scene XI

    ¡°And your turn Sam,¡± Pryce said, sliding the Divine Intervention box to the paladin. Sam pushed aside his bowl of oats and reached in eagerly.


    He loved this nightly ritual of playing a parlor game over dinner. Sam had spent the past three days in a uniquely calming routine. Waking up to study and meditate with Father Pryce, then out into the garden to help Gretta tend to the plants. In hindsight, it should not have surprised him that Gretta was an envoy from Talnorel herself to help keep the Halcyon Band safe, and her garden was part of that system.


    After the yardwork, it was back indoors to help clean and prepare dinner. Then came game time.


    Sam plucked a coin from the box. A house with feet, its front door wide open with treasures tumbling from it. ¡°Corinne, the Hag,¡± he said confidently.


    ¡°Smart kid!¡± Gretta said with a smile.


    ¡°So Corinne arrived at Trufflim¡¯s domain to see Ymir there instead. She was not surprised however. With narrowing eyes, Corinne looked at the Father of Winter and said ¡®I know you seek the Heart of Gessel!¡¯¡±


    ¡°He knows his gods, but he can¡¯t tell a story worth a damn,¡± Pryce said, laughing. ¡°Never turn the story into a treasure hunt, Samson!¡± he reprimanded as Sam scowled.


    ¡°Maybe I just want the game to go all night?¡±


    ¡°You know I can not keep that up, dear,¡± Gretta said as she reached for her coin. She pulled one from the box, and paused.


    ¡°This one got you stumped?¡± Pryce teased.


    ¡°Hush.¡±


    Pryce and Sam looked at each other while Gretta looked out at the chapel¡¯s front entrance. Her eyes darted slightly, pupils shifting. She was dancing with the edge of the Verdant.


    ¡°There¡¯s someone here,¡± she said. ¡°But they are trying to stay hidden. The trees can not see their auras.¡±


    ¡°Druids?¡± Pryce asked.


    ¡°No other explanation.¡± Gretta set her coin on the table and moved to grab her coat. ¡°Let me go and see.¡± The elderly druid stepped outside, pulling the heavy door shut behind her. Sam coyly peaked at the coin she laid down.


    ¡°Who is it?¡± Pryce asked him.


    Sam thought for a moment. ¡°I¡¯m not sure. Two gems and a crown? Never seen that one.¡±


    The sound of something crashing outside had Sam and Pryce on their feet just then.


    Benji shook the vial again and again. The seeds inside continued to rattle long after he had stopped agitating them. ¡°Something has them all worked up.¡±


    ¡°Probably all that green up around the chapel,¡± Sarah offered, nodding to Gretta¡¯s garden. The two were hidden behind one of the crumbling building foundations off to the side.


    ¡°It¡¯s a druid sentry,¡± Kaitlyn whispered. ¡°Think about Gideon¡¯s forest. The only reason that all is still green is because someone is keeping it that way.¡±


    ¡°So burn it,¡± Matthew hissed.


    Kaitlyn ignored the command. ¡°I wonder what the seeds are saying to the plants up there.¡±


    ¡°Let us out?¡± Benji suggested.


    ¡°We plan on it little guys,¡± Sarah said to the vial.


    ¡°Guys, someone¡¯s over there,¡± Kait hissed. Gretta had stepped outside and was beginning to scan the town¡¯s snow frosted ruins.


    The group watched her carefully as she took a deep breath, and lowered into a seated position.


    ¡°What is she doing, Kaitlyn?¡± Matthew asked.


    ¡°Communicating, it seems.¡±


    ¡°Stop her. She will know we¡¯re here.¡±


    ¡°If her trees can see us, then she already knows, Matthew. Give her a sec-¡±


    ¡°Um, Kaitlyn?¡± Benji had stopped whispering. He held the vial at arms length as the four seeds inside all rushed to the top. The large man held his other palm over the cork stopper to keep them prisoner, but they were becoming restless. The four began moving as a single unit, ramming against the insides of the vial.


    ¡°Don¡¯t drop it! That¡¯s our lockpick!¡± Sarah shouted.


    The stealth offered by the four seeds was ruined by the commotion, and Gretta located them with ease. The intricate network of roots below the town she had cultivated for years finally came of use.


    ¡°Dammit!¡± Matthew screamed as thick, whiplike roots burst through the stone and ice they stood on and grabbed his ankles. ¡°Kill her, Kaitlyn!¡±


    The roots attempted to grab Kaitlyn as well, but the shaman laid an open palm against the earth. There was a deep rumble and a slight tremor, and the roots that had emerged reeled back like injured fingers.


    ¡°Crushed them,¡± Kaitlyn said definitively. ¡°That should hold that off. Now for the druid herself, though.¡± Taking a deep breath, she whipped around the small stack of bricks to hide and catch her breath.


    Her casting had been less reliable lately as she had begun to show her pregnancy and her body¡¯s mana was shifting. Just this one last night of troubles and she would be able to raise her child in peace.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    The druid was sitting defiantly in front of the chapel¡¯s front door.


    Quick. Hard. But just enough to knock her out.


    Kaitlyn kept these thoughts right in the front of her mind as she reached down. Roots were already preparing to emerge from the earth. Twisting her hand in a scooping motion, Kait urged a wad of earth from the ground. There was a strange pressure in the air as it condensed to something not unlike stone. Then the shaman gestured toward Gretta. The loam flew, following her command. It struck the druid in the chest, and set her back toward the door. Some of the door¡¯s decorative wooden paneling crashed on to her.


    The rest of the Crew dashed out from hiding as the roots momentarily retreated in confusion.


    ¡°Burn the damn trees, Kaitlyn!¡± Matthew shouted. ¡°Won¡¯t they want revenge on what you just did?¡±


    That stung. She did not want to hurt that old woman.


    ¡°He has a point, Kait,¡± Benji said, still straining to keep the seeds contained. ¡°You gotta do something!¡±


    Kait thought for a moment. It was sad. Painful even. But it would get this over faster. She thought about how much she hated Matthew for making her do this. She channeled the anger into a ball of fire, and slung it into the greenery.


    Sam, now armored, was running for the door.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to the Halcyon Band, Samson. Get to Gretta and make sure they don¡¯t get in!¡± Pryce was shouting as he dove into the northern apse. At the end of his commands he disappeared down a poorly lit flight of stairs.


    ¡°Yes, Father!¡± Sam ran toward the door, but was suddenly knocked off of his feet by a gust of wind. In a flash, he covered himself with a defensive aura, but still he clattered down the sanctuary, pews splintering under the force of his fall and the gale.


    A woman stood at the door, her belly slightly swollen. A mountain of a man stood just behind her with Gretta in his arms. Another woman, her muscles bulging beneath her simple clothes, and a man, greasy and cruel looking, were dashing into the chapel already.


    Sam saw them running and propped himself up just enough. Let it be your Will that they are stopped by my shield¡¯s true flight! Sam heaved his shield toward the couple as they ran. The metal disc flashed white as it soared, burrowing itself in the brick wall just in front of Matthew¡¯s face.


    Matt fell backward in shock. ¡°Kait! You¡¯re the heavy!¡± he shrieked. ¡°Do something about him!¡±


    ¡°Get your jewelry, I¡¯ll fight this brat,¡± the woman from the center said to Sam as she began to walk over, slowly.


    ¡°You¡¯re the heavy?¡± Sam asked Kaitlyn, pulling himself to his feet. He turned to look at Matthew. ¡°You stay there, sir!¡±


    ¡°You are in no position to make demands, boy,¡± Kaitlyn said roughly. She made a sweeping motion with her hand, and the bricks beneath Sam turned to sand, and then rushed like a wave beneath him. He was back on the floor before he knew it. Kait looked at Matt and Sarah. ¡°Run, idiots! Before those seeds bust out!¡±


    The white light left the shield and it clattered to the floor as Sarah rushed ahead. She held a large map of the chapel in hand, Jack¡¯s leather pack over her shoulder as they ran toward the stairs Father Pryce had previously dove down.


    I need my shield back, Sam prayed. Suddenly, somehow, it was beside him, still rocking from the force of its fall. Sam felt the force of that spell on his mind for a moment. He should have been more clear that the shield just needed to fly back. He picked himself up again and decided to try again with the fighting words.


    ¡°So, you¡¯re the heavy? Why not the¡­ heavy guy?¡± Sam pointed to Benji with his warhammer, who was laying Gretta on one of the pews.


    ¡°Benji doesn¡¯t fight.¡± Kaitlyn stared Sam down. ¡°I usually don¡¯t either, but today is a special occasion.¡± Kaitlyn mused for a moment on the depth of that understatement. But as she said, the sooner this got done, the sooner she could move on with her life.


    Sam studied the woman for a moment. ¡°Ma¡¯am, are you pregnant?¡±


    Kait roared and bricks suddenly took flight all around Sam. ¡°I would ask you to go easy on me but I do not think I will have to worry much!¡± Kait clapped her hands and the bricks came rushing in toward her enemy.


    There was a hollow clacking as the bricks collided with Sam¡¯s last minute barrier spell. They burst into dust a hand¡¯s width from the surface of his armor, with every strike momentarily revealing a golden bubble around the paladin. ¡°What do the Wrath Liches offer a mother-to-be?¡± he asked, his voice echoing strangely within the shield.


    ¡°Wrath Liches?¡± Kaitlyn smiled. ¡°No, you¡¯re being beaten by common thieves.¡± She knelt down and pushed her hand to the ground again. That same dull thud and tremble. But then she remembered, Matthew and Sarah may be below her. She twisted her hand instead, and the sand beneath Sam shifted again.


    This time, Sam was faster. He dove through the barrier and onto solid ground, lifting his hammer. This woman needs to be restrained. He prayed, running and swinging the hammer at the same time.


    Kaitlyn became distracted by the glinting gold of the armor scar on Sam¡¯s chest and was unprepared when his distant swing resulted in an arc of golden light that bound her hands. It took every bit of her leg muscles to keep from losing her balance with the force of the arc, but once she was confident, she channeled the wind.


    Sam kept running, though he noticed the shards of the pews clacking across the floor toward the altar. He looked up from them to see Kait¡¯s hair whipping in his direction. Benji, too, was huddling over Gretta to protect her from this new gust.


    No, Sam thought. I can beat this wind. I have to beat this wind. This is my duty. This is my obligation. I will not fail another order. As Sam continued to charge, he lifted his shield. Golden light began to spill over it like liquid as he held it into the wind.


    He was not advancing as fast as he had been running, but he was moving forward. An impossibility if it were not for the astounding strength of the magic he was channeling. He lowered the shield momentarily to see Kait, looking pale, putting more and more power into the gust.


    A window broke as another pew came loose. But Sam kept marching.


    I will not stop this advance. She has to give up. She has to stop. Sam was beginning to feel the spiritual fatigue of his spells. This had been the most magic intensive fight he had ever been in, though the dependence on spells was his own fault.


    He would not be able to keep it up.


    Nor would he need to. He did not, through the golden light, see Kaitlyn urge another brick from the floor. Nor did he see her, despite her bound hands, send it sailing in his direction. He just barely saw the brick arc perfectly on the wind over the top of the shield.


    Though it did not strike him hard, it stunned him for just long enough to be whipped from the floor by the gust and sent careening backward across the sanctuary once again. He slid up against the altar, breathless.


    At the other end of the chapel, Kaitlyn, too, was barely holding herself together. It had been ages since she had drawn on this much power in such a short amount of time. Her vision was becoming sporadic. Hopefully this little paladin did not have much more fight in him.

 The Exiled Minister Scene IV

    Maribel yawned deeply, quite relieved that she and High Sergeant Boldbounty were sitting in the back of the Cathedral sanctuary during its weekly open-door service. The massive room¡¯s floor level and mezzanine were overflowing with civilians from the city of Dawnbreak who were looking to get closer to the Dreamer as the Laughing Buccaneer¡¯s attack seemed inevitable.


    ¡°I told you you could stay back and sleep in,¡± Boldbounty said with the practiced tone of a father. He was hushed, but loud enough for his voice to carry over the children¡¯s choir singing at the front of the cathedral.


    ¡°No, no,¡± Maribel said, shaking off her sleepiness. ¡°I have to get a feel for the populace, right?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯ll be here tomorrow, Sister,¡± Boldbounty said, laughing as Maribel yawned again. ¡°That fight at sea really kept you up all night?¡±


    ¡°It was that Cadence, or whatever they call it,¡± she said, whispering with exasperation. ¡°That sound is not something you can just go back to sleep after hearing. So loud, especially out over the open ocean.¡±


    ¡°They really rushed that thing into the field,¡± Boldbounty said with a solemn shake of his head.


    ¡°Shut up, you two,¡± an elderly man in the row in front of them hissed. The remark ended their conversation as the children¡¯s choir continued to sing. The lay people sitting around the old man pat him on the back in thanks and Boldbounty chortled.


    ¡°Not like you haven¡¯t heard the song before,¡± he muttered before being shushed by several others. The two sat in silence, barring Maribel¡¯s yawns, as the service continued. It continued to be silent all around as the audience strained to hear the performers, and so it was distracting when the someone in the back began muttering ¡°excuse me¡± and ¡°coming through.¡±


    Maribel was startled when a dark skinned man in an oversized linen robe gestured around her to get Boldbounty¡¯s attention. Silently, the man mimed leaving the cathedral, and Boldbounty became very concerned.


    ¡°Is everything okay, High Sergeant?¡± Maribel asked.


    ¡°Come with us,¡± was all he said.


    The three met down a side corridor that ran along the cathedral. A mother was tending to a crying baby at the other end, but otherwise, the area was empty.


    ¡°Sister Maribel, meet Cayd,¡± Boldbounty said, introducing them. ¡°Cayd, this is Sister Maribel. She was sent here with the Coastal Dispatch.¡±


    ¡°Wow,¡± the dark skinned man said with a smile. ¡°You are quite young to be part of the dispatch.¡±


    Maribel sighed. ¡°I¡¯m not, actually. I was sent on a boat of theirs because I upset someone at the The Throne.¡±


    Cayd sized the young woman up and laughed. ¡°Is Boldbounty starting a collection? Between me, his former trainee from the Abbey, and you, he is gathering all the misfits he can!¡±


    ¡°Now now,¡± Boldbounty interjected. ¡°You all aren¡¯t misfits. At least, Maribel has not proven herself to be one yet. So, what was so important you needed to yank us from that profound service?¡± The sentence oozed Boldbounty¡¯s playful sarcasm.


    When Cayd straightened up, Maribel could sense an immediate shift in the tone of the conversation between the two men. ¡°It will be happening today, Enoch. When the Coastal Dispatch downed that boat before landing last night, she decided.¡±


    ¡°The Sea Witch?¡± Maribel asked. ¡°How did you know?¡±


    ¡°Cayd here is a sorcerer. Used his blue magic to spy on our pirate,¡± Boldbounty explained. ¡°What is their plan? Do you know?¡±


    Cayd grinned again, and the dire tone lightened a shade. ¡°Tidus is observing the contracts with the Dreamer. So we do not have to worry about him forming in the harbor or under the cathedral. So Zora is taking it upon herself to break in and open the door.¡±


    ¡°Gutsy!¡± Boldbounty laughed.


    ¡°She said there is a tunnel that connects to the beaches north of the city?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know anything about that, but the priests of the cathedral should. Get your lumineer in case we need any more proof or details for them. In the meantime, Maribel, would you gather the Coastal Dispatch?¡±


    ¡°All of them?¡±


    ¡°I think we will be needing all of them.¡± Cayd frowned at Boldbounty and Maribel. ¡°Zora was not happy about what happened last night.¡±Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    Boldbounty sighed as Maribel looked concerned. ¡°I requested an Inquisition, but instead I got a ceremonial guard with a sick need to take the first shot,¡± Boldbounty said with a shake of his head.


    ¡°And a misfit, High Sergeant,¡± Maribel added. ¡°I will gather the paladins. Where shall we meet you?¡±


    ¡°The courtyard.¡± Boldbounty was grinning ear to ear as he watched Cayd and Maribel head off to follow his commands. He had never realized that he had a way with misfits.


    After going to the barracks in the back of the cathedral and urging the paladins from their late sleep, Maribel hurried the forty armored soldiers to the courtyard to meet up with the Gavundar sorcerer and the High Sergeant. In the courtyard, a motley group of the Cathedral¡¯s priests and paladins were already in place.


    A squat, wooden stage at the end of the courtyard was where Maribel found Cayd and Boldbounty. ¡°High Sergeant,¡± Maribel called up to him from off of the stage. ¡°What else can I do for you?¡±


    ¡°Ah, thank you sister!¡± Boldbounty said with a nod to her. ¡°I have nothing for you right now.¡±


    Maribel bowed slightly and went to step away before Boldbounty called to her again.


    ¡°Sister, I said I had nothing for you to do, not that you were dismissed. Step up here. I¡¯m going to be calling the group to attention.¡±


    Confused for a second, but thinking better of it, Maribel moved to the stairs for the stage and Boldbounty walked to the platform¡¯s edge.


    ¡°Cathedral Paladins, Coastal Dispatch, attention!¡± With Boldbounty¡¯s call, the entire courtyard came to a halt. The paladins¡¯ armor clanked as they shot into stiff stances facing the platform. The priests, not beholden to the command, but still respectful of the High Sergeant, went silent.


    ¡°Today you have been called to this courtyard in preparation for our big event. We were expecting it to come soon, but it may be coming sooner than we had hoped.


    ¡°Our friend here, Cayd, has found some keen intelligence that the Sea Witch will be attacking today. Maybe some of our older priests and priestesses will remember Bastilla¡¯s Washway?¡±


    Silence from the crowd.


    ¡°Thought not. There¡¯s a caved-in waterway under the city, and our pirate princess hopes to sneak up through it to let her divine friend in to flood the city and smash the boats. So, we¡¯re going to dig out the washway and get ready for her to arrive.¡±


    ¡°All due respect, High Sergeant, we¡¯re going to clear the invader¡¯s tunnel for her?¡±


    ¡°Nothing will be stopping the Sea Witch after you all sank her ship last night.¡± Cayd¡¯s remark was sudden, sharp, and damning. The Coastal Dispatch shifted awkwardly in its wake.


    ¡°Mister Cayd is right. If we dig out the tunnel, we face her on our terms. And our terms are the ones that don¡¯t have sea gods screaming through the city. Better terms, aye, sister?¡±


    Maribel was taken aback that Boldbounty asked her at all. ¡°Uh¡­  Yes High Sergeant.¡±


    ¡°You all know how you fight together so I won¡¯t concern myself bossing you around on such a nitpicky topic. So how about anyone Sergeant or higher, coming on to the stage and we¡¯ll better develop our plan?¡±


    ¡°Yes High Sergeant,¡± the paladins responded in one, impressive voice, saluting crisply with their right gauntlets across their chests before the groups began to shuffle, and eight sergeants made their way to the stage.


    Two hours later, the noon sun was high over Dawnbreak, but the paladins in Bastilla¡¯s Washway would not know. Buckets, prayers, shovels, and Cayd¡¯s blue magic were all used in equal parts at cleaning the rubble from the tight catacomb tunnels. The Gavundari sorcerer stood at the leading edge of the group, eager to finally meet the woman on the other end of the lumineer.


    High Sergeant Boldbounty and Maribel were at the inconspicuous entrance to the washway. It rested at the bottom of a dried out man-made pond in a park at the city¡¯s heart. Boldbounty¡¯s children had played in the park ten or twenty times, and he had never noticed the cave-like entrance amongst the stones. The priestess and paladin watched with interest, and no small amount of nerves, as everyone worked. They two assisted where they could, but the harsh corridor was barely wide enough for two paladins to stand shoulder to shoulder.


    ¡°High Sergeant?¡± Maribel asked after a moment of quiet work had passed.


    ¡°Yes, sister?¡±


    ¡°I am curious. Why was the Coastal Dispatch sent? Why mobilize forty paladins for one pirate? With a god or not, you still asked to activate an Inquisition against her? What is it that makes this woman so dangerous?¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± Boldbounty thought for a moment, then chuckled. ¡°Much like yourself. Like Mister Cayd. And like my trainee from before. The Sea Witch appears to be a bit of a misfit.¡±


    At the far end of the tunnel, Cayd and the leading paladins broke through into a long, square, and moss-covered pathway. The sorcerer muttered to himself something about the energy to light ten paces ahead, and his hand began to take on a deep blue glow that became brighter and brighter.


    Cayd looked at the first paladins. ¡°The two of you, with me, please. The rest of you, run down the chain and get hold of the High Sergeant. He will give us our commands.¡±


    ¡°Will we not wait, sir?¡± one of the two asked.


    ¡°I need some fresh air. Enoch will understand.¡± Cayd began walking down the washway, and the two, grumbling about the Dawnbreak leadership, followed.


    After several minutes of walking down the damp tunnel, the sound of waves rang against the mucked-slicked walls. A few minutes more, and sand offered a gritty footing for the three as they pushed, finally, onto open beach. The afternoon sun took a moment of adjustment, but when Cayd was able to see out to sea once more, he noticed four high-masted ships bobbing on the horizon.

 The Carpenter Scene IX

    Sarah fumbled to uncork the vial as she led Matt down the stone stairs to the chapel¡¯s crypt. The seeds were still slamming themselves against the cork and the walls of the vial, pulling it in a different direction with each strike and making the effort that much more difficult. Even with a peripheral watch on the stairs ahead, Sarah was too focused to see Father Pryce.


    The priest stood before a massive wooden door, chained shut with copper links. A grand gold-colored lock set with runes hung in its center. As soon as Sarah¡¯s foot hit the crypt¡¯s floor, he thrust an open palm in her direction. A concussive force rushed toward her, cutting her momentum instantly.


    Sarah looked to Father Pryce, opened her mouth to shout something obscene, but was cut off. The priest was not allowing any quarter. His left hand gripped a large, golden pendant around his neck, and with his right hand balled into a fist, he threw a punch in Sarah¡¯s direction.


    The strike somehow, from across the room, hit her square in the sternum. It was a hit unlike any she had ever felt. All of her limbs went numb instantly as every muscle contracted. In just a few moments, Sarah went from a hastened descent to being completely paralyzed, falling helplessly to the stone floor of the crypt.


    Matt was hurrying down immediately behind her. Sarah tried her best to shout a warning, but her lips would not move.


    ¡°Stop there, thief,¡± Father Pryce shouted as Matt came into view. He was buying time, recovering mana before he threw another paralyzing punch.


    The voice that answered was not Matt¡¯s. It was dignified and noble sounding, but also with a timbre and volume wholly unnatural.


    ¡°Step aside, priest. Your battle is destined to end in failure.¡±


    ¡°And who makes such a claim?¡± Pryce demanded, looking past and around Matthew. Overhead, there was a crash, sending dust atop the trio.


    In the space between Father Pryce and Matt, two glowing red gemstones shined into existence. They twinkled brighter and brighter as they became more tangible, spilling behind them massive volumes of shadow. The shadows twisted and surged into the vague impression of a man. Sitting atop the figure¡¯s head was a silver crown. Father Pryce looked sick.


    ¡°Do you know who stands before you, Father?¡± the shadow¡¯s voice filled the room completely. Matt was stunned that the demon of his dreams stood before him in the flesh. Or something like it.


    ¡°You are not to form an avatar in this sanctuary of The Dreamer,¡± Father Pryce reprimanded.


    ¡°I was invited by my dear friend, Matthew Carpenter.¡±


    ¡°Remove yourself, Wraith.¡± Father Pryce was beginning to tremble.


    ¡°I understand your swagger, Father. You gaze upon a god, and thus you boast and brag to prove you guarded the gate until your last moments.¡± As he spoke, the shadows became more voluminous, spilling across the room, becoming nearly suffocating. ¡°You know I am a god, but I ask you again, Father. Do you know who stands before you?¡±


    ¡°The King¡¯s Shade,¡± Father Pryce was resigned to say. His faith was being shaken.


    ¡°Correct.¡± The King¡¯s Shade¡¯s shape rushed in the priest¡¯s direction, sweeping up his body. The old man did not say a word as he was enveloped. After just a moment, the shadows laid down Father Pryce¡¯s unconscious body on the stone floor. ¡°And that takes care of that one.¡±


    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± Matt asked, stepping toward the god.


    ¡°Making sure you do not ruin this like you have so much in your life, dear Matthew. Get the vial and open this gate.¡±


    Matt was about to protest the jibe, but thought better of it and moved to Sarah¡¯s paralyzed body. He looked into her eyes and saw nothing but fear. Tears were rolling down her face as she watched Matt approach.


    He could think of nothing to say to her, so he just reached for her hand. The vial was caught in her fingers, locked in position by the priest¡¯s attack. The seeds inside seemed to have calmed at the god¡¯s assault on the room. With an amount of effort Matthew was sure should have broken Sarah¡¯s finger¡¯s, he freed the vial from her frozen grasp.


    ¡°Dawdling still, Matthew? Though you stand on the precipice of mortal greatness?¡±


    ¡°Sorry,¡± Matt muttered, half to Sarah, half to the King¡¯s Shade. He walked the vial over to the god.


    ¡°What are you doing, Matthew? I will not be committing these sins. Do this yourself. Earn your own greatness.¡±


    Matt scowled, and looked over to the lock. He struggled as he approached it to uncork the vial. Sarah must have loosened it during the descent. Unsure of any special action needed, Matt just dumped the vial¡¯s contents into the lock¡¯s keyhole.


    The sound was like children loosed onto a playground punctuated by the splinter and crack of plant growth. The glyphs on the lock began to glow and shine, but roots and vines burst from within the keyhole, wiggling and reaching out playfully. The metal bulged and buckled as the plant matter expanded unnaturally within. The lock began to whine as it strained to contain the assault, but it was going to fail. The crack of the magical lock busting was startling, like the bust of a small explosive. The metal pieces fell to the floor with a harmless clatter as the copper chains cascaded downward.


    Matt watched in awe and disgust as the ball of vines and roots that landed amongst the lock¡¯s shards surged around like a disoriented vermin. Suddenly, once the wad of life had its bearings, it skittered off into the shadows of the crypt.


    The King¡¯s Shade laughed heartily. ¡°Well done Gideon! Yes?¡± The shadow looked at Matt, then suddenly inhaled sharply. ¡°Ah, forgive me Matthew. Gideon helped you destroy your marriage. I had forgotten.¡±


    Matt, overstimulated and nervous, said nothing as he went to open the crypt¡¯s interior door.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    Expecting some sort of massive dungeon, Matthew was shocked to see the locked chamber was just a small room terminating immediately at an altar. Atop it was a long cylindrical piece of silver metal, carved with some fashion of calligraphy-like writing.


    ¡°And there she rests,¡± the King¡¯s Shade said solemnly. ¡°The crux of the Halcyon¡¯s power. The core of the greatest hero the Church of the Will has ever known lies before you Matthew. What will you do?¡±


    Matt thought for a moment as he approached the Halcyon Band. He thought of his promise to Kaitlyn. On cue, there was a bang from above. His pregnant wife was risking her life and the life of that child to get him this treasure. He took a deep breath. ¡°I¡¯m going to keep my promise to Kaitlyn.¡±


    The King¡¯s Shade laughed again. This time it was more mean spirited. ¡°See? This is why I am here, Mr. Carpenter. No you are not.¡±


    Matt was silent. He walked up the altar and looked closer at the Church¡¯s treasure. The band seemed to shine with some inner light. The writing was difficult to read, so Matt gave up on it, but he reached out to touch the band¡¯s surface. The cool metal was electrifying on his fingertips.


    ¡°Can you feel the power?¡±


    ¡°I think so.¡±


    ¡°That shall be yours, Matthew. Yours and no one else¡¯s. Think about it. What will that crime family do to your family when you have the power of the Halcyon?¡±


    Matt¡¯s mind was filled with images of destroying the Tarleys. Getting vengeance for everything they had done to him, from his parents to his wife. It was intoxicatingly vivid. He just barely noticed the gleam of the King¡¯s Shade¡¯s eyes.


    ¡°Take what is yours,¡± the shade said harshly.


    Matthew, with little contest, reached up and plucked the band from the altar. It was not at all ceremonial. There was no mechanical click. There was no magical chime. Just the bated breath of an excited god and the light breathing of the two bodies outside the room.


    Matt turned the band over in his hands. When he saw inside the armor piece, he immediately cringed. There was a long, thin, fluted blade that ran down the inside.


    ¡°Church Enchantments are such crude ideas.¡± The King¡¯s Shade was critical. Not in a harsh or hateful sense, but more with the tone of a restaurateur trying another culture¡¯s cuisine. ¡°They require harsh sacrifice from the user. But I think you are strong of will enough.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°That blade is not for your enemies, Matthew. The Halcyon Band requires input from the wielder. For this one in particular? It is written right there on the surface.¡±


    Matt looked harder at the surface. The carvings were more salient now that he held the item. ¡°Blood and Blood Again.¡±


    ¡°What does that mean?¡±


    ¡°Who knows?¡± the King¡¯s Shade muttered. ¡°These people, the Church of the Will, of course, do nothing but speak in asinine riddles and hymns.¡±


    Matt sighed and continued to turn the Halcyon Band over and over in his hands. The King¡¯s Shade indulged him for longer than Matt would have expected.


    ¡°You know this is not a toy, Mister Carpenter. It is a weapon. And you should wield it as such.¡±


    ¡°But I made a promise to my wife.¡±


    The jewels that were the eyes of the King¡¯s Shade twinkled. ¡°And she has failed to maintain your image of the perfect family. She rails against your leadership and she butts heads with you whenever she can.¡±


    Matt first found himself struggling to remember any event where Kaitlyn ¡°butted heads¡± with him for no reason. But suddenly, with the gleam of the shade¡¯s eyes, he was reminded of the Broken Bough Tavern. Where Kaitlyn embarrassed him in front of the Crew.


    ¡°Matthew. If you put this band on you will not need to depend on Kaitlyn any more. Or the Tarleys. Or me. You will be a free man.¡±


    Matt¡¯s eyes widened at the idea. That is all he ever wanted. Freedom. Freedom from his parents and the sins of their past. Freedom from the baggage of his friends and their crimes. Freedom from his haphazard family.


    Matt closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He took the device in his left hand and plunged his right arm into the Halcyon Band.


    He screamed out as the blade stabbed deep into his forearm. When his hand emerged from the Halcyon Band¡¯s end, the tip of the blade struck against bone. Hot tears from the pain rushed from his eyes as blood poured out from under the band.


    The calligraphy began to turn crimson. The words ¡°Blood and Blood Again¡± were brilliant against the shined silver surface.


    The King¡¯s Shade embraced Matt. ¡°Calm down Mister Carpenter. The pain will pass, and all that will remain is your power.¡±


    Sam pulled himself to his feet. More strength. I need it. His muscles pulsed with the final vestiges of his magical endurance. The paladin rolled his shoulders with the new surge. His adrenaline was shot, his body was already beginning to ache, and his hammer was starting to feel somewhat heavy.


    But the shaman looked no better. He could see she was trying to stabilize her breathing.


    ¡°Kait,¡± Benji said from the side of the sanctuary. ¡°Are you going to be okay? Don¡¯t push yourself too hard.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine, Benji. Don¡¯t worry. I just need to teach this little paladin that even a pregnant woman has some fight in her.¡±


    ¡°I do not doubt that, ma¡¯am,¡± Sam called as he began his careful approach. Who knew what sort of elemental assault this woman would unleash. ¡°You have proven that enough. But I can not allow you to rob this chapel. The device we hold is too powerful.¡± Sam was not too sure about that last part. For all he knew, the Halcyon Band was useless without the rest of the armor.


    Kaitlyn raised her hands up. She opened her heart up to the stone that made up the chapel. Otherwise emotionally and physically exhausted, this was her last chance. This strike would have to be the one that laid the paladin low, otherwise arrest was imminent. Her heart skipped as she realized that it pleased her to think that at least arrest would get her away from Matt.


    The bricks churned beneath her. Cut stone always had an interesting outlook. It did not have the raw stubbornness of a natural boulder. It had a sense of duty. It had a purpose.


    From that, Kait was drawing her power. She made clear to the stones that she had a purpose herself. She was going to raise her child, and raise her child properly. The harsh existence that Matthew had suddenly roped them into would be nowhere at all a part of it.


    The stones were sympathetic. After all, they were set to protect something. The stones themselves were not of value, but instead a bulwark to protect the valuable item. And on that level they understood what Kaitlyn wanted from her life.


    The entire chapel was mobilizing to attack Sam, and he could tell. The walls and ceiling began to creak as the shaman hurried to finish the duel. Then, a scream could be heard from the basement.


    It did not sound like Father Pryce. It also did not sound like surprise or anger. It was pure pain. A sound that chilled Sam.


    And that was when he noticed that the chapel was no longer straining. Sam looked to Kaitlyn, to see Benji already rushing toward her.


    The shaman was on the floor, her eyes rolling and body seizing. And despite the distance, Sam could see she was beginning to bleed.

 The Tides Mistress Scene IV

    The captain was trying not to focus on the leviathan¡¯s shadow. But it was impossible. There was a chance she and her five crew members in the landing boat would all be swallowed and destroyed by the beast in the light of day.


    ¡°Captain, we¡¯re turning too much north,¡± one of the crewmembers called over the splash of water.


    Zora looked down to where her hand was dipped into the sea. The water churned and frothed between her fingers, propelling the boat toward the shore. But there, between the foam and choppy water were small, bright, and fizzing sparks. Her fear was creeping in.


    And it seemed noticing it was making it worse. The sparks began leaping up and out of the water, and the smell of ozone was noticeable. The boat began to slow.


    ¡°Captain, let me,¡± one of the others said. She was a young girl, but one of the best coxswains Zora had ever seen.


    ¡°Sure, you take the wheel, then,¡± Zora muttered, embarrassed as she swapped positions with the girl. She continued to watch where she believed the shadow to be. And she watched as they picked up speed and zipped toward the beach. She kept her eyes on the shadowy spot despite the jumps and splashes the boat took as they crossed over the break.


    It had let them pass.


    Zora put on her most serious face as the boat began to slow, this time intentionally. She looked up and down the coast line for the entrance to the tunnel.


    ¡°Captain, the rocks over there,¡± another crew member said, pointing toward the cliffside south of where they would be landing. The tops of Dawnbreak¡¯s buildings could barely be seen over the bluff. A small stream of water was trickling through the sand into the sea, and Zora traced the stream back toward the cliff where she could just barely make out a break in the wall.


    There was a hiss of sand and sea spray as the rowboat mashed against the beach. ¡°Go!¡± Zora commanded. ¡°Quietly, though. The cave¡¯s there.¡± One by one the six leapt from the rowboat and began to run through the sand, their cutlasses jangling with the movement.


    This was it! Zora was tensing her entire body to keep from grinning. Dawnbreak, once Tidus helped her take it, would be her and her crews¡¯ sanctuary from that monster hunting her. They would have everything they needed in this fortress of a city, and she would call in every favor she had to keep it safe. From mortals and from gods.


    She would offer asylum, too, to anyone who needs it. Dawnbreak would have peace and safety for anyone and from anything! The sanctuary she had been looking to build was before her. Loamy, Gavundar¡¯s city of reformed thieves and refugees, would be a slum compared to what Zora would build.


    Her daydream ended when there was a flash of blue light and a yelp from one of her friends. Looking back, Zora saw the sailor hovering off the ground, his feet at her eye level. One of his arms was covered in bright blue light and slung upward as if some invisible giant were holding him by it.


    The man stayed admirably silent as he struggled, letting the pirates scout the area. ¡°Hey!¡± came another pirate¡¯s shout. Her cutlass, cloaked in gold, whipped from its scabbard and splashed into the sea.


    ¡°Dammit!¡± Zora roared. ¡°Find them and kill them!¡± The three still-armed pirates rushed toward the cave as the one who was disarmed took a deep breath. A tendril of water slipped up from the ocean and formed an orb around her hand. Once it took shape, she joined her allies¡¯ charge.


    And she was the first to engage one of the Coastal Dispatch paladins. The armored man had been crouching behind a rock and stood up while the attackers were still several paces away. Revealing his helmed head to the shaman was his final mistake.


    She flicked her wrist in his direction and the orb of water focused a long, thin tentacle in his direction. It surged around his throat, forcing the paladin to let out a choked scream before she pulled hard on the rope of seawater and brought his head, exposed face first, down on the boulder he had used for cover. Blood soaked into the sand as the armor clattered.


    Two more paladins leapt out to meet the other pirates. Zora observed, keeping her distance for a moment to allow her crew to prove themselves. Golden lights clashed with her pirates¡¯ own magics and personal strengths.


    Groans and yelps brought a smug grin to Zora as these elite fighters were being outmaneuvered by a handful of brigands. ¡°Captain!¡± the dangling sailor shouted.


    Zora looked up just in time to see the blue light disappear and the sailor fell into the sand. ¡°Are you okay?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, the guy that did it, though. He¡¯s there!¡±


    Zora followed the man¡¯s pointing finger to see a robed figure step out of the washway. He was tall, and even still the robes were too big for him. She could not see his hands from the end of his sleeves. All she saw was a faint blue glow.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    There was a gurgling scream as the throat of the third and final paladin was slit. Zora¡¯s sailors turned to look at the robed man. ¡°Hold it.¡± Her command was short and sharp.


    ¡°Captain Dimatova,¡± the robed man said. He sounded excited.


    ¡°Who on Chael¡¯s list are you?¡± Zora barked back.


    ¡°My name is Cayd. Cayd Zahid.¡± The man pulled his hood down to reveal a dark skinned, shaved head.


    ¡°Zahid? What¡¯s that? Grassland region of Gavundar? Kudurran?¡±


    ¡°How flattering. Usually people make that guess by my skin.¡± Cayd laughed. ¡°But yes, ethnically, the Zahid family is from there. I am Academy educated, though.¡±


    ¡°Far from home.¡±


    ¡°I could say the same,¡± Cayd nodded toward the sea where Zora¡¯s ships were bobbing just over the horizon line.


    ¡°Dawnbreak has better restaurants.¡± Cayd guffawed at the pirate¡¯s joke, and Zora grinned. ¡°You know,¡± she added. ¡°I don¡¯t often flirt with the men I¡¯m about to kill.¡±


    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s what this is?¡± Cayd asked.


    ¡°Well, I need to get in that waterway.¡±


    ¡°I meant I am surprised to see this is what passes for flirting for you. Your time with the Laughing Buccaneer must have dulled your taste.¡±


    The sailors looked in shock at their captain, who was instantly flush. ¡°Who in Trufflim¡¯s trough do you think you are to talk to the Sea Witch like that? Boys?¡± The crew readied their weapons in Cayds direction, and Cayd responded by pushing his sleeves up to his elbows.


    Intricate tattoos wound up and down his forearms, layered on one another and, just where one stopped, another would start. Zora saw him look the crew up and down, his eyes darting from one another as they began to dash toward him.


    Then he clenched a fist, turned it toward the sky, and opened his hand again. An orb of blue light began to form in Cayd¡¯s hand.


    Zora watched in amazement as her crew, still advancing, stopped moving forward, and somehow, began moving upward. Their feet fell higher each time as though they were ascending steps.


    The shaman with the orb of water, the smallest of the bunch, began shrieking as she ascended quicker and more drastically than the others. Cayd turned to look at her, opening his free hand. As he watched, his eyes twinkling with something like concern, the woman¡¯s ascent slowed.


    ¡°Well that is impressive.¡± Zora said, looking up at her distressed sailors. ¡°But I¡¯ve seen sorcerers work before. That¡¯s got to be mentally taxing, huh?¡±


    Cayd didn¡¯t answer. He could not. If he stopped running the delicate calculations keeping himself convinced that these men and women were safely breaking laws of gravity, they could rocket skyward, or be slung back to the ground. Either way, Cayd was not looking to take lives on this beach.


    ¡°Mister Zahid. I asked you a question.¡± Zora looked at her hand and thought of the beast in the sea. This Gavundari magician was standing in her way of finally escaping it. She allowed the fear to return, just a bit, in order to grasp its power. Sparks danced on her fingers. Zora was going to gamble on this man¡¯s humanity. ¡°When I ask a question, Cayd, I usually get an answer.¡±


    The bolt of lightning leapt from her fingers. It was small, but boisterous. The crack of thunder echoed off of the bluff and roared out to sea as Cayd¡¯s eyes went wide. Quickly he estimated some sort of slow fall to let the pirates down. But their weights were too varied.


    What worked as a good rate of descent for the lighter pirates, for some reason, was much faster on the largest pirate. It was a mixed blessing that he tried to break his fall with a locked out arm. His head did not strike the ground, but the crack of his arm breaking was definitely audible, even with the thunder.


    With the pirates on the ground, Cayd reckoned the energy at work inside of Zora¡¯s lightning. She had conjured it in a flash, and it was travelling slowly, all things considered. He glanced at one of the tattoos on his left arm. It said something about equal and opposite forces with a formula full of variables.


    Cayd did his best to calculate a barrier, and a bright blue bubble formed just before the bolt struck. The static in his arm felt surreal as the lightning bolt whipped across the bubble and surged into the sand. Beads of glass in the beach were all that remained.


    ¡°Quick thinker,¡± Zora shouted with a laugh.


    ¡°Risk taker,¡± Cayd said as the bubble disappeared.


    ¡°That¡¯s leadership.¡±


    Cayd scoffed at that remark. He did not need to read his tattoo on force projection. It was basic, and it was simple. Two hands forward, and the pulse to the air ripped across the beach. Sand was kicked up as it rushed in Zora¡¯s direction.


    Zora spun, calling the wind as she did. The force of the gust spun her out of the way of the pulse and left Cayd wide open to another bolt, but Zora wanted it to focus. As she drifted in the air, Zora drew her cutlass and pointed it in Cayd¡¯s direction. The static tingled as she called the electricity to her blade.


    Another crash and the bolt was off. Cayd noticed it just too late. With a shout he tried to summon another barrier, but was slow.


    But the lightning did not strike him. Cayd, surprised by how hard he was flinching, pried his eyes open to see a scepter hovering, level with his chest, glowing white hot with the energy of Zora¡¯s attack.


    He looked over to see Maribel, her hand still following through with the javelin-toss styled throw that had saved his life. Boldbounty was behind her, but looking into the sky. He slung his golden hammer through the air sending a ribbon of light skyward.


    Boldbounty had led his shot, and the still floating pirate captain, confused as to why she had missed her mark, fell against the ribbon. The golden light wrapped around her body like cloth and tore away the inertia she had from her gale powered leap. Her restrained body fell onto the beach with a thud.


    Paladins poured from the washway as Maribel rushed to check on Cayd. Boldbounty moved immediately to Zora. When he arrived at her, Boldbounty was relieved to see her still conscious. The High Sergeant wanted so badly to make a remark about how she was older than he had expected, but she had a look. Not anger at her capture or failure, but a discomforting blend of sadness and fear.

 Bleedingheart Scene XII

    Kaitlyn woke slowly to find her whole body aching. She let out a soft groan as she tried to pull herself to a seated position. There was a flurry of activity at the far end of the room, and a young man rushed to her bedside.


    ¡°Whoa, are you okay?¡± he asked. Kaitlyn strained to remember who he was.


    ¡°Where am I?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re still in the chapel at Happfield.¡±


    Those words were enough to remind her. This man beside her was the same paladin she had been fighting in the chapel¡¯s sanctuary. ¡°Why? Where are the others?¡±


    ¡°Just relax here for one second. I¡¯m going to get the Father.¡± Sam said as he helped Kaitlyn back down.


    ¡°No, wait,¡± Kaitlyn called through her pain as the paladin left the room. But he left anyway. Kaitlyn thought back to the last things she remembered. Calling on the power of the stones that built the chapel. She was going to tear the whole thing down during their fight. Then everything had gone black. She had vague memories of Benji shouting, but little else.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad to see you¡¯re awake.¡± Father Pryce¡¯s voice entered the room before he and Sam did. The old man appeared, a bruise running down the side of his elderly face. He looked on at Kaitlyn with sadness and concern. ¡°How are you feeling?¡±


    ¡°What happened?¡±


    ¡°That man you brought with you? The one who went to the basement. He stole the Halcyon Band.¡±


    Kaitlyn felt strange when she heard that. She should have felt successful or proud, but it seemed wrong. Matthew did not deserve her help and he did not deserve success. Especially if it resulted in her being left behind here.


    ¡°But that is not all. He put the band on his arm as well.¡± The priest said this line with effort, as if he had been searching for words. He looked at Kaitlyn, like she should know what he meant by this.


    ¡°Is that where the bruise came from?¡± Kaitlyn asked. Father Pryce shook his head. The doomed looks from the two men were beginning to make her feel uneasy. Then she realized something amiss.


    Kaitlyn reached to her stomach. The slight bump she had been showing was gone. Sam looked down at the floor as she found her child was missing.


    ¡°What happened?¡± Kaitlyn asked, her voice beginning to break. ¡°What did you do?¡± she asked Sam, her voice full of blame and hate. He had been the one fighting her after all.


    ¡°It was not Corporal Bleedingheart that caused this,¡± Father Pryce said, moving forward. ¡°It was the man in the crypt.¡±


    Kaitlyn was beginning to react, and the environment was as well. The stones of the building, the wind outside the window, and the flame of the candle beside her were all reaching toward her to try and comfort the shaman. The room creaked and groaned, and the two men looked even more distraught. What had been an uncomfortable situation was becoming a dangerous one.


    Kaitlyn began breathing faster, approaching hyperventilation when her mind caught on the last thing the priest said. It was the man in the crypt. She pictured that urn her grandmother always described. It was shaking, spilling over with contents aching to be free. But, at this point, it was too much in that urn. Kaitlyn knew that if she released them all right now, her despair and anger would kill these men. So she held the emotions of her surroundings away from her.


    She controlled her breathing. She capped the urn.


    The priest and paladin watched in silent awe as she brought herself and the world around her to peace.


    ¡°The Halcyon Band was a cursed item. That is why it was hidden so far away. Wearing the item and drawing its power pulls blood from the wielder, but also renders the wearer unable to have a child. The Church used the enchantment to control its finest warriors. It demanded their sacrifice and devotion.


    ¡°It seems that we have witnessed just what this means for a yet-unborn child.¡±


    Kaitlyn said nothing. She just stared. The silence went on for a moment before she finally decided on an appropriate question. ¡°Where are Benji and Sarah?¡±


    Sam and Pryce looked at one another before Pryce spoke. ¡°I presume Benji and Sarah are the other two with you and the man that stole the Halcyon Band?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± Sam began. ¡°The big guy in the sanctuary wanted to stay and help you, but when the man and woman came up from downstairs, the man threatened him. Ordered him to leave you behind.¡±


    Kaitlyn took a deep breath as the stone whined again. Then, peace once more.


    ¡°They stalled. Wanted to make sure you would be taken care of. The woman even apologized, but quietly. Eventually they left. Said they were headed for The Throne.¡±


    The compassion in the room was becoming more voluminous with each moment. Stones layers below the chapel, as well as groundwater, and winds blown in from far away all rushed forward to give Kaitlyn their sympathies, but they were made to wait just outside the room. Even Pryce and Sam could feel the pressure on the space around them, but to Kaitlyn, it all just seemed like pity.


    Matt used her to the very end. She should have seen it all sooner or stood up for herself sooner. She did not want this pity right now.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    And so the emotional walls grew higher.


    ¡°How are you feeling? Father Pryce asked, gently taking a step forward.


    ¡°I am sore, father.¡± Kaitlyn¡¯s response was stiff.


    The priest looked down and took a breath. ¡°Our druid, Gretta, will be in momentarily. She has some medicines for you. May I ask your name, child?¡±


    Kaitlyn wanted to protest. She wanted to react, and scream, and throw things around the small stone room. But she thought better of it.


    ¡°My name is Kaitlyn. Why would Matt be going to The Throne?¡± she asked.


    ¡°For the rest of the armor, I am guessing. That man, your lover-¡±


    ¡°Not anymore.¡± The response was void of emotion.


    Pryce paused. ¡°My apologies ma¡¯am. That man was being guided by a god known as the King¡¯s Shade. The god embodies ambition and lust for power. I believe that your husband will not be permitted to rest until the armor is in his hands.¡±


    ¡°And what will that mean?¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± Pryce sighed. ¡°The band alone gives him powers that we were unable to contend with. The armor would make even an untrained warrior on par with one of the greatest heroes of the Church of the Will.¡±


    Kaitlyn worked to press down her growing anger. ¡°What will be done to stop him?¡±


    ¡°I am going to return to my post at The Throne and sound the alarm about this man¡¯s approach. He will not make it to the city.¡± Sam nodded with confidence.


    ¡°Give me a day to rest. I want to go with you.¡± Kaitlyn was physically pained to create the words, but she was sure.


    ¡°No, dear,¡± Pryce shook his head. ¡°We can not allow that. You will be held here by Gretta and myself until the Church sends for you for questioning.¡±


    ¡°No, I need to make this right. I never intended to hurt anyone.¡±


    ¡°Could have fooled me,¡± Gretta said as she stepped into the room with a cart. Her lip was swollen and her arm bruised. A dusting of soot covered her clothing. ¡°It¡¯s one thing to come in and slap me around. But to burn my garden, too?¡±


    ¡°I did not realize what we were doing. I¡¯m so sorry.¡±


    ¡°Those were my friends, Shaman,¡± Gretta snarled.


    ¡°Gretta, calm down,¡± Father Pryce sang. ¡°We¡¯ve all lost already. Some of us more than others. I think it safe to say the King¡¯s Shade may have had more of a hand in the events than our patient would be able to tell us about.¡±


    Gretta looked down, ashamed for a moment. ¡°I¡¯m sorry about the baby.¡±


    ¡°And I am sorry about the garden,¡± Kaitlyn responded. ¡°But Matthew. He should be the one we are concerned with.¡±


    ¡°Not yet, lady.¡± Gretta plucked a clay cup from the cart and held it out to Kaitlyn. ¡°Drink this. And when you swallow it, I have a question for you.¡±


    The liquid was good, like most druid medicines. Honey sweetened, flavored with fruit juices. Whatever substance had the medicinal effect was masked completely by pleasant aromas and tastes.


    ¡°Where did you find this?¡± Gretta leaned down to grab a metal birdcage from the underside of the cart. Inside, a ball of vines and roots thrashed around and gripped for the cage¡¯s clasp.


    Kaitlyn tried to recognize the mess of plant life when it dawned on her. ¡°It was a gift. From a Druid outside of Crossroads.¡±


    ¡°Do you know a name?¡±


    ¡°He was called Gideon,¡± Kaitlyn said, pleasantly remembering the conversation she had with the druid that inspired her to stand up to Matt. Too little too late, though.


    At the sound of the name, Gretta¡¯s face fell. ¡°I will be outside. Father Pryce would like to do something for the child lost and the death of the garden. Come and find me whenever that is happening.¡± With that, Gretta was gone, leaving the cart behind.


    ¡°She is temperamental at times,¡± Father Pryce said softly.


    ¡°Stop coddling me,¡± Kaitlyn responded, not unkindly. ¡°I know I am a criminal and enemy of the church. I aided in the theft of a relic. And I paid for it.¡± Kaitlyn was beginning to cry, but she was not sure if her emotions could be contained when they began to be expressed. She worked hard to seal the urn once more. ¡°So I want to make it right. And I want Matthew brought to justice.¡±


    ¡°I understand, dear. But you are ill, and emotionally compromised. You know as well as I how unpredictable that can make your power. Let Samson here handle Matthew and we will wait here for the good word.¡±


    Kaitlyn opened her mouth to protest, but Sam interrupted her.


    ¡°Are you well enough to step outside? Maybe we can say a few words for the lives lost,¡± he reached out a hand to help her. Sam was smaller now that he was not in his armor. Much smaller. She found herself impressed that a man of his stature could wield such power in combat. And she noticed, too, the scar tissue that peaked out of the open collar of his shirt.


    ¡°I believe so,¡± Kaitlyn said, taking his hand.


    The funeral was awkward, albeit well intentioned. Gretta was emotional, but only because she knew the plants that were lost, and in a way no one unversed in green magic could relate to. She freely expressed herself as Father Pryce read from a book about death.


    Kaitlyn, on the other hand, felt emotions for her unborn baby, but refused to show them. It was easier than she had expected. After all, she had not even settled on a name. In all of her fantasies, the child was this intangible idea that sat in the other room, or in a crib just out of the field of view. It existed, but never fully formed. The irony almost caused Kaitlyn to laugh, but she choked it down.


    All this time carrying this child and she spent every day worrying about Matthew. What a damned waste. She should have seen it from the start. Matthew never wanted that kid. She would not have been left to fight a Paladin of the Will if Matthew cared for the safety of the child.


    The elements were on the door of Kaitlyn¡¯s heart again, ready to spill over her with their pity. She raised the walls higher, though. She knew she felt sad. She knew these three from the chapel felt sad for her, and that the elements would, too. But none of that was going to help stop her idiot husband.


    If anything, mourning the loss would slow her down.


    And there, as Father Pryce read and Gretta shook with quiet tears, Kaitlyn decided to put off her sadness. She would give herself time to mourn, but later. After her sins committed on Matthew¡¯s behalf were answered for and after Matthew answered for his own sins.


    After the makeshift funeral was dinner. Just as awkward. The four, shaken by the day¡¯s events, had their meals alone. Father Pryce, insistent that he be the one to do it, ate with one hand while using his magic to put the unbroken pews back in place in the sanctuary.


    Gretta was still outside, mourning her losses and preparing the garden for a new generation.


    Kaitlyn found Sam in his room packing. Once she had gotten up and moved later in the day, movement was coming easier and easier. It seemed that her body had just been in shock, and that had caused the pain. If she did not give it time to set in again, she would be fine.


    ¡°Samson?¡± Kaitlyn asked quietly, pushing his door open slowly.


    The paladin was startled but hushed. ¡°Kaitlyn? What are you doing?¡±


    ¡°Making sure you don¡¯t leave without me.¡±

 The Tides Mistress Scene V

    The cot in the holding cell was thin and lumpy. The stuffing in the mattress had been squeezed and smashed into a shape that Zora would never be comfortable on. And so she leaned against the wall beside it, putting on her gruffest face, and waiting for her interrogators.


    The leaning was a frustrating experience as well. The room, and probably the whole internment ward with it, was laced with gold magic wards that dampened Zora¡¯s ability to call red magic.


    The lock on the door rattled open as a paladin doorman let in a small priestess. It took the pirate a moment to recognize the skinny girl as one of Cayd¡¯s friends from the beach. In fact, it was the still-dirty edges of her habit that gave it away.


    ¡°Good afternoon,¡± she said with a bow. ¡°I am Sister Maribel on a temporary assignment to this cathedral and I will be dictating the Church of the Will¡¯s grievances with you.¡±


    ¡°My charges,¡± Zora corrected.


    ¡°No ma¡¯am,¡± Maribel shook her head. ¡°The Church will first present you with the grievances. You will be offered an opportunity to respond in writing. And once that has, or has not been completed according to your choice, the documentation package will be delivered to the Justicar of the region, currently Justicar Helmshead of the Crossroads Protectorate.


    ¡°At which point the Justicar will decide your charges, which will then be presented with you along with the date and time of your hearing.¡±


    Zora grumbled. ¡°What a waste of time.¡±


    Maribel did not respond. Instead, she withdrew a parchment envelope and began to open it.


    Zora did not listen to her read the list of ¡°grievances.¡± She knew everything she had done. Whether it was to make her life easier, bring fortune to her crew, or please that monster that chased her, she made sure she remembered. It would have depended more on whether or not the Church knew. Although, as far as Zora was concerned, there was more than enough to take off her head.


    So she counted on the fact that her crew and the god of the entire world¡¯s seas were biding their time to launch a rescue expedition. The Church seemed to be counting on that, too. Her holding cell was on the innermost level of the Cathedral¡¯s internment ward. The small window, barely the size of Zora¡¯s head and twice as high up the wall, was looking in at one of the cloister courtyards.


    ¡°And finally, conspiracy to infiltrate property of the Church of the Will on behalf of another god, goddess, or divine entity.¡± Maribel read the final line and looked up. ¡°There lie your grievances as submitted by the Cathedral of Dawnbreak in the Southwest Diocese of The March. Do you have a response?¡±


    Zora stood up from the wall, standing tall, and lifting her chin. ¡°I did what I did for my crew. And I do now what I do for my crew, too. I can do what I do for you. But only if you join my crew, too.¡±


    The Rhyme of the Pirate Captain had been written by a schoolteacher in Gavundar¡¯s capital a century ago, and though it was meant for children, or maybe because of that, actual pirate captains adopted it. And Zora never got tired of watching the Church stenographers roll their eyes and grumble as they wrote the stupid lyrics on their official documents.


    Maribel did not give her the pleasure of an overt response. She smiled a small smile and bowed lightly. ¡°Thank you for your time, Captain. You will be contacted soon by interrogators who wish to know your side of these grievances for historical purposes. Please remember that whatever you say to an interrogator will not be submitted as an official response to grievances to the Justicar, but may be utilized in the decision of sentencing in the event that charges are carried out against you.¡± Maribel turned and left, the door locking behind her.


    The girl was good, Zora noted. Memorized every word. Pretty damned impressive for a gal so young. Too bad she was all too tightly wrapped up in those priest clothes to put those talents to any real use.


    With Maribel gone, Zora was back to waiting. She had messed up the night before. Not that they could have necessarily prepared for the Church to anticipate their attack. Nothing they, nor Tidus had known made it seem like the washway would be defended.


    And, Zora had to admit, the washway had been a risk to begin with.


    The more she thought about what had happened, the bigger a mistake it seemed to be. It was a gross risk to put herself on the landing team. Tidus had tried to stop her, too. Her pride and her fear took hold.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    But there was something there in that cell. Or rather, something missing. The monster¡¯s shadow. She did not feel it in the small room.


    Her thoughts were interrupted with the door unlocking again. Zora braced herself to go face-to-face with some massive tough-guy paladin, or maybe some sharp nosed, snide-faced whippet of a woman.


    Instead, she was greeted with the warm smile of a black skinned southern Gavundari, shaved bald and wrapped up in thick, ugly, brown robes.


    ¡°You.¡± She was short with it, swishing as much venom around her tongue as she could for the single syllable.


    ¡°I brought you your dinner, Captain,¡± Cayd said softly. He did not ask before pulling over the room¡¯s small, shaky table and placing the metal tray on it.


    Zora eyed the tray as best as she could without looking at it or Cayd. The food actually looked good. A shallow bowl of stew, thick cuts of red meat and dark colored vegetables floated in the broth. A crumb-covered slice of bread sat beside it.


    And on the other end of the tray was the same two dishes again.


    ¡°Oh no,¡± Zora said, dropping her defiance in favor of indignity. ¡°You¡¯d be damned if you were going to eat dinner with me.¡±


    ¡°Not the first person to call me damned,¡± Cayd said with a shrug as he plucked one of the two spoons from the platter and sat on one end of the cot. ¡°And I¡¯d much rather be damned over a dinner than over something more morose.¡±


    ¡°Talk slick. Still won¡¯t get my company.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s fine. I don¡¯t need it.¡± Cayd took a bite of the bread and smiled at Zora.


    She watched with vitriol as he took another bite, then sampled the stew. Try as she might, she could not find it in her to hate this man. Maybe it was his non-lethal behavior on the beach. Maybe it was the fact that he always seemed so damn happy to see her. Made her sick. Furious, even. But still, she could not hate him.


    ¡°It may serve to have some salt,¡± Cayd mused as he took another spoonful of the stew. He looked to Zora for her agreement, or at least acknowledgement.


    She only stared daggers.


    ¡°It¡¯s not bad, though. Not at all for boring Church food.¡±


    Then, Zora¡¯s own body betrayed her. Tantalized by the smell of bread and meat, and uneasy from nearly a day without so much as a cracker, her gut growled with hunger.


    Grumbling, she grabbed the bowl, bread, and free spoon from the tray. She watched with disdain as Cayd slid himself further down the cot to give her room to sit. And decidedly, Zora turned to the stone wall, and sat on the cold floor.


    Cayd let out a laugh. ¡°I do not know why you are being so childish.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know why you¡¯re helping the Church arrest me.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I didn''t really do that. Well, not until you tried to kill me, that is.¡±


    Zora bit her tongue. He did spill a lot less blood than she and her crew had. In fact, Cayd bearing witness to the murder of those paladins would most likely mean Zora would not be the only one hanged when all was said and done. A few more members of the crew would go on one final adventure with her.


    ¡°How is it?¡± Cayd asked.


    He was right. The food was not bad. Much better than anything she and her crew could cook up in the middle of the open sea. ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡±


    ¡°This is prisoner food, too,¡± Cayd said with surprise. ¡°The prisoners back home? They¡¯d be lucky to have a bread heel broken up into a glass of milk.¡±


    ¡°I feel the Church brings pain to its prisons in other ways. You know, I have to wait for some Justicar three cities over to tell me I¡¯m going to die?¡±


    Cayd frowned. ¡°Is that certain?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, the girlie in the habit just told me.¡±


    ¡°That you are going to die?¡±


    ¡°Oh!¡± Zora said, understanding. ¡°No, no. That it would take a while to find out. Almost certainly, though. I¡¯ve done a lot to make the Church mad. A lot of boats sank. A lot of relics robbed.¡±


    Cayd looked sad at his meal as he stirred his stew. ¡°Can I ask why?¡±


    Zora bristled, suddenly realizing she had been talking to the man. ¡°Why are you interrogating me for them?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not.¡± The man looked to the door, calling Zora¡¯s attention for the first time to a faint glow around the handle. ¡°It¡¯s not much. Just muffling our speech. The guard hears us but can only make out some words here and there.¡±


    Zora got even more upset. ¡°Aren¡¯t we a little old to be sneaking dinner dates? Just because I¡¯m in here with a bed doesn¡¯t mean I can have you climbing in with the key.¡±


    ¡°Zora, it¡¯s not like that.¡±


    ¡°Not like that my ass,¡± she barked. ¡°You act like I¡¯ve never been in a room with a man before. You swoop in, answers to all problems, slinging magic around to sweep us off our feet. Get off it, Gavundari.¡± She snatched a mouthful of stew meat from her bowl and inhaled it with the finality of an eating competition contestant.


    Cayd frowned. ¡°Sounds like you have had bad taste in men.¡± He stood up, putting his half-eaten meal on the metal tray. Even the clatter of the dishes sounded hurt, though the sorcerer could not pinpoint why her words stabbed so deeply. He walked to the door and wiped away the blue light. ¡°Someone will be by later to pick this up.¡±


    ¡°Just like trash to leave trash behind,¡± Zora sputtered, her mouth still full as Cayd grabbed the latch.


    The Gavundari looked back, eyes sad, mouth smiling warmly. ¡°Have a good evening, Captain Zora.¡± The lock clattered and Cayd was gone.


    Zora shifted as she took another bite. That was definitely not going to be the last she saw of him.


    And for some reason that triggered a small smile.

 The Carpenter Scene X

    ¡°Wake up.¡± The voice was hushed, but forceful. Highwaymen? This close to The Throne? Those paladins were slacking. Too much focus on the riots in the Back City, probably.


    The man blinked himself awake to see a man immediately over him. His skin, though it may have been the moonlight, was frightfully pale, and his breath was not misting the way Frank¡¯s was. Good thing Frank had run into those nomads two days ago. His wagon was completely empty. His pockets though? What a shame, he was hoping to buy the horse a new bridle.


    ¡°What do you want?¡± the man asked.


    ¡°The wagon. Get out.¡±


    The man turned when he heard metal clanking. A man the size of a mountain was carefully hooking his already awake horse to the wagon. The horse¡¯s blanket was neatly folded on the driver¡¯s seat.


    ¡°What? No!¡±


    ¡°Not negotiating,¡± the pale man responded.


    ¡°Me, neither.¡± The man reached down toward his thigh, but jumped when he felt another hand there already. He looked to see a woman pulling his knife out of its leather pouch.


    ¡°Barely enough to open a jar, much less take a life,¡± she muttered sleepily before hurling his knife into the woods.


    ¡°Get out of the wagon now.¡± The pale man set his hand on his chest. He wore a bracer of polished silver that sparkled in the winter air. Something was etched into it, but the man was not in a reading mood.


    The merchant grunted and opened his mouth to speak, but groaned as the hand on his chest began to heat up. It became unbearably hot in a matter of seconds. The last thing Frank perceived was a sound unlike any other. A thick, hollow pop.


    Sarah looked away, grimacing as Matt threw the merchant¡¯s body onto the frosted ground. There was a wet thud as the contents of the man¡¯s torso tumbled from the hole Matt had created.


    He grinned at his work. It was just like his dream.


    ¡°Horse is all tied up,¡± Benji said from the front.


    ¡°Good. Sarah looks like she is sleepy, so I guess I will drive.¡± Matt walked to the front, pushing past Benji aggressively.


    ¡°Why are you acting out?¡± Benji asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s been a long day. Get in the wagon. We are almost to The Throne.¡± Matt grabbed the reins and urged the horse down the road. He began muttering to himself as they rode through the night and into the next day.


    Sarah had not slept for two days. Every night brought a new horror. First was that talking dark cloud that beat up the old priest in the church followed immediately by leaving Kaitlyn behind while she bled on the floor. Then murdering the merchant and stealing his wagon. Based on their time, they would be reaching The Throne in one day. Who knew how much death awaited there?


    She looked at the setting sun. In the meantime, what would tonight bring?


    ¡°Town up ahead. Heads down and keep quiet,¡± Matt ordered. ¡°And, Benji, sit on that blood stain or something.¡±


    Benji quietly shifted in the wagon¡¯s back, but Sarah stopped him.


    ¡°Oh yeah, real inconspicuous. A giant brutish man with a blood stained ass. Just put this blanket over it.¡±


    ¡°Who¡¯s going to be looking at his ass, Sarah?¡± Matthew hissed.


    ¡°That¡¯s what I was gonna talk about. I want to stop for the night, Matthew. I¡¯m exhausted. And frankly, I''m tired of killing people.¡±


    Matthew laughed sharply. ¡°I¡¯ve been doing all the heavy lifting, Sarah.¡±


    ¡°No, that damn bracelet of yours has. And you look like a corpse because of it. Wouldn¡¯t be surprised if Chael were behind us, nose to the ground following the smell of your cologne.¡±


    ¡°He probably is, just coming for you if you keep talking back to me.¡±


    Benji suddenly moved between the two. ¡°Matthew.¡± His voice was low and forceful. ¡°You do not threaten Sarah. She is one of two people standing beside you right now.¡±


    Matthew did not look back at his allies. Instead, he began mumbling.


    ¡°What are you going on about up there?¡± Sarah asked from behind Benji.


    ¡°Fine! We¡¯ll stop.¡± Matthew shouted his acquiescence as he pulled his coat sleeve down over the Halcyon Band.


    The wagon trundled on as the trees began to thin and a town began to appear. It was a town in the loosest sense. Maybe four buildings on either side of the road. Shops on the bottom, homes on the top. It was surely a money grab for those too poor to stay within The Throne, but eager to be close enough to do business with its citizens and the farmers who work the outskirts.


    A single restaurant and inn seemed to be the center for action in the town. Partly because it seemed to be the only street-level structure with lights in the windows. The early Winter twilight meant an end to business for the other structures.


    ¡°We can eat. And we can rest for a few hours. We¡¯re leaving before dawn, though.¡± Matthew¡¯s orders were delivered with finality.


    A finality that Sarah immediately disregarded. ¡°I¡¯ll wake up when I wake up, Matthew. Why don¡¯t you park the wagon and stable the horse. I¡¯ll get rooms. C¡¯mon Benji.¡±


    Benji looked to Matthew, then to Sarah, and back again. Matt was mumbling again.


    ¡°Fine, do what you need to. I¡¯ll take care of this.¡± Benji climbed from the wagon as Matthew led the horse and cart into the alley on the far side of the inn. The crimson eyes of the King¡¯s Shade became visible as soon as the shadows of the buildings fell.


    ¡°Let them be children, Matthew. We have greater ambitions, you know.¡±


    ¡°Why are you willing to let us stop? We are so close!¡±


    ¡°Remember when I told you I had someone to introduce you to? He is here, Matthew.¡±


    ¡°Really? What a coinci-¡±


    ¡°Gah! I hate that word.¡± The King Shade slipped from the wagon as they passed into a large yard behind the inn. A covered wagon was already parked in the open lot, but the stable, a walled off barn with a large double door, seemed awfully quiet. ¡°There is rarely a true coincidence in life, Matthew. Trust me, I have seen much. And all of it is orchestrated by someone.¡±


    ¡°So this is your orchestration, then?¡± When Matthew was satisfied with the placement of the wagon, he hopped down to begin releasing the horse.


    ¡°Depends,¡± the King¡¯s Shade seemed to come as close to a shrug as his smokey body would allow. ¡°Does it please?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll find out when I meet this guy, I suppose.¡± With the horse removed from the wagon, Matthew began leading it to the stable door. But the King¡¯s Shade drifted beside the two of them.


    A wispy limb of the god caressed the horse, and the creature¡¯s pupils dilated. The curious energy of the horse was suddenly gone.


    ¡°I should tell you,¡± the King¡¯s Shade began. ¡°There is something in this stable that some may find¡­¡± The crimson eyes rolled as the god searched for the proper word. ¡°Troubling! But you are a champion now, Matthew. Show no fear.¡±


    Matthew pushed the door open and strained with every muscle to keep from vomiting. The smell of rotting flesh had filled the stable to bursting. The source of the smell seemed to be a massive creature draped in a huge, thick blanket. The snout of a recumbent beast barely pushed out under one end of the blanket. A leg fell out from under the other end. Matthew noticed the leg only because a solid piece of exposed bone caught the moonlight aggressively.


    ¡°What is that¡­?¡±


    ¡°Destiny, Matthew. I¡¯m going inside to prepare our host.¡± The shadowy figure of the King¡¯s Shade suddenly twisted into itself, leaving behind a sparkling dust in the moonlight. Matthew did his best to breathe only through his mouth, but it still turned his stomach. He worked as quickly as he could to tie up the catatonic horse to get away from the beast under the blanket.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    Inconspicuousness can sometimes be a result of overly conspicuous features in abundance. When the visitors to the restaurant looked at Zarraz, instead of an out-of-towner, or a stranger, they saw someone too unique to pay attention to.


    He had the olive skin tone of a central-Gavundari city man, punctuated by the sharp features of his fanged folk heritage. Neither of these were common in a small town such as this one in the north of Talnorel. He wore the clothes of a middle class townsfolk, which stood out in the rural settlement. But even still, if the others who even noticed him sitting off to the side of the room were asked, they would think he was a man from The Throne who just needed some fresh air.


    His greasy, jet black hair was slicked back out of his beady eyes, which were turned down at the tabletop in front of him. The room was poorly lit, and when the King¡¯s Shade¡¯s crimson eyes appeared across the table from him, only Zarraz noticed.


    ¡°Oh! Hello!¡± Zarraz had been silent for so long, the opportunity to speak may have come off a little too strong. Though his cheerful welcome could not have possibly been louder than the excitement of the room, the Kings Shade reacted.


    ¡°Quiet, boy,¡± the King¡¯s Shade whispered. ¡°My visitor is here for you. He is out back.¡±


    Zarraz grinned. ¡°Did he see the catoblepas?¡±


    ¡°He smelled it. Even I smelled it, Zarraz. I guarantee Kraag smelled the creature.¡±


    ¡°I can only do so much. The flesh still decays, you know.¡±


    ¡°For now.¡±


    ¡°But when we get to those crypts, and get those stored gods¡¯ tears!¡± Zarraz¡¯s excitement was building, along with his volume.


    ¡°Settle down!¡± the god hissed. ¡°Settle down.¡±


    The door to the inn opened, ringing a bell as Matthew stepped in.


    ¡°There! Get to know each other. I¡¯ve planted enough seeds. I just hope those two morons upstairs do not break Matthew''s resolve. Do your best, Zarraz. And try to be a little more welcoming than normal.¡± The eyes of the King¡¯s Shade flickered, then disappeared. Instead of the twinkling dust, each eye left behind a small crystalline shard that fell to the table with a clink. Zarraz swiped them from the tabletop as soon as they came to rest and stuffed them into his trouser pockets.


    ¡°Mister Carpenter,¡± the woman behind the counter called to him. ¡°Your friends wished you to know they have taken their meals up stairs. And that you have a private room.¡±


    ¡°They did not wait for me?¡± Matthew felt a little frustrated at first, before remembering that the King¡¯s Shade promised him a contact.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry sir. I can show you which room they are in if you¡¯d like?¡± the woman offered. But Matthew ignored it and walked past her to scan the room.


    The restaurant portion of the inn was boisterous, and reeked of alcohol. The townspeople seemed to regularly let loose in this building. Probably another reason for the shops to close so early.


    Every table was spilling over with loud men and women. All but one. A small man that was smaller than even Kaitlyn, sitting alone in the corner, mumbling to himself. Matthew looked around for some additional confirmation that this was the ¡°host,¡± but realized it was not too necessary, and moved to the table.


    Before he sat down, the small man¡¯s tiny eyes drilled into Matthew. His lips pulled back over his sharp teeth in a strange way. Matthew had seen fanged folk, such as Jack, smile a thousand times, but this was different. It was the smile of someone who learned of the facial feature in a book and practiced it for years.


    ¡°Zarraz.¡± That was all the man said as he thrust a hand forward for a shake.


    ¡°Nice to meet you,¡± Matthew said, shaking the man¡¯s hand. ¡°My name is Matthew.¡±


    ¡°I thought you would be bigger.¡±


    Matthew stumbled, studying the man¡¯s face. He was still smiling. ¡°I¡¯m sorry to disappoint you.¡±


    ¡°No disappointment!¡± Zarraz replied cheerfully. He leaned across the table and poked Matthew¡¯s forehead. ¡°Your strength is probably all right in there.¡±


    Matthew swatted Zarraz¡¯s hand away. ¡°What are you doing?¡±


    ¡°Sorry, sorry,¡± Zarraz muttered as he retreated. ¡°My friends are a little socially awkward. I¡¯ve learned bad habits.¡± Zarraz suddenly looked around and lowered his voice even more. ¡°May I see it?¡±


    At first, Matthew, confused by the entire interaction, was not sure what Zarraz meant, but it dawned on him. He slowly pulled the sleeve of his coat up to show the man the Halcyon Band.


    ¡°A true relic of the Church of the Will. Fascinating.¡±


    ¡°So,¡± Matthew said, pulling the coat back over the treasure. ¡°My friend says you may be able to help me.¡±


    ¡°Our friend!¡± Zarraz corrected. ¡°And I think so. Did you see my steed? In the stable?¡±


    ¡°What was that thing?¡±


    ¡°A catoblepas,¡± Zarraz whispered.


    Matthew rolled his eyes. ¡°Like the paladins at The Throne have never fought one of those?¡±


    ¡°Not like mine! Mine¡¯s special.¡± As Zarraz spoke, he seemed to be distracted by something in the corner of the table. ¡°Excuse me.¡± Zarraz disappeared beneath the tabletop and left Matthew still confused.


    What was the King¡¯s Shade getting him involved in? Maybe this kid was just going to be a distraction. A sacrifice to the Dreamer¡¯s army. The shadow had not failed him yet.


    Zarraz reappeared, and Matthew stifled a scream. He was holding a small mouse by the tail, delicately with two fingers. The right side of the mouse¡¯s head was bloody pulp, and judging by where Zarraz had found the critter, it appeared it may have been stepped on by a guest.


    Matthew watched uncomfortably as Zarraz got to work. And he maintained conversation eagerly as he did. He lightly draped the mouse across the tabletop and looked up to Matthew.


    ¡°So, we go to The Throne. And then, about my Catoblepas? We just have to get him in the gate. I figure he is much bigger than you or me. We could probably slip around to the crypts while he makes some statues in the main drag!¡± Zarraz reached into his pocket, revealing a handful of small, clear crystals. They were tiny, but bright. He dug through with his fingers to find one in particular which seemed miniscule. Just a splinter of stone.


    ¡°Then, once we are in the crypt, I think we should depend on that bracelet of yours. Or is it a bracer? Probably a bracer. That sounds more masculine.¡± Zarraz put the other crystals back in his pocket and studied the miniscule one for a moment before pressing it into the pulped flesh of the mouse. ¡°But I guess the Halcyon was a woman, right? Maybe she would call it a bracelet.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me for one second.¡± As the splinter sunk inside, Zarraz¡¯s hand began to glow purple. Matthew, disgusted at first, was now enthralled.


    Zarraz set his second hand open in front of the mouse. And with a small squeak, the mouse, which had surely been dead, lifted itself back onto his tiny feet and sniffed the man¡¯s fingers. It swung its tiny head in Matthew¡¯s direction, and Matthew jumped in his seat.


    The bloody mass was no different. Flesh still hung loosely, with the tiny, grey brain still exposed. Where the mouse¡¯s eye had been, the splintered crystal shone brightly. The snarled nose of the mouse flicked lightly as the mouse sniffed in Matthew¡¯s direction.


    ¡°Anyway, how¡¯s that sound?¡± Zarraz asked, but saw Matthew¡¯s fixation with the small animal. ¡°Do you want to name him? I was thinking ¡®Splat.¡¯ It¡¯s important to remember where you came from, you know?¡±


    ¡°I hate this kid,¡± Sarah whispered to Benji in the early morning gloom, her back to Zarraz. The Gavundari fanged folk was sitting at the front of the wagon muttering on and on to Matthew as they rode away from the rising sun. ¡°We leave Kaitlyn behind and replace her with this creep?¡±


    ¡°I hate this monster following us,¡± Benji replied. The catoblepas, still cloaked in a blanket, now clearly bloodstained, was limping along the empty road behind them.


    ¡°I can¡¯t keep with it, Benji. I want to go home.¡±


    ¡°Me, too.¡±


    ¡°We need to leave, then. Just jump off the wagon and leave. Matthew is going to get us killed. He got Jack killed, and Dreamer knows what happened to Kaitlyn back there. She could be gone, too. We need to cut our losses.¡±


    Beji did not respond, but Sarah suddenly heard he was not breathing normally. She looked to Benji to see him crying.


    ¡°Don¡¯t cry, big guy.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to lose any more friends, Sarah. Not even Matt.¡±


    ¡°Then we need to leave. What good are friends if you¡¯re a ghost?¡±


    Just then, there was a low, deep crack and a flash of heat. A wall of fire suddenly barricaded the roadway.


    ¡°Stop the cart, boys!¡± The voice came from ahead, small and nasally.


    ¡°Dammit,¡± Matthew spat. ¡°Why do we have to slow down now?¡±


    ¡°Who are these guys?¡± Zarraz mused as three men burst from the bare woods. They were wearing red cloaks with full-head hoods, eye holes cut into them that completely masked their identities.


    ¡°Wrath Liches,¡± Matthew hissed. ¡°Long history with this group. No quarter for them. Not today.¡± Matthew looked down at the bracer as the horse whinnied in response to the fire.


    ¡°Haha! Okay!¡± Zarraz and Matthew leapt from the wagon together as Benji and Sarah were still repositioning to see what was happening. They could only watch, stunned.


    The Wrath Liches, when they realized that the two men were coming for them, began to churn their liquid flames. But there was no time. Matthew bent slightly to press a hand to the gut of the center man. Heat and then a pop. The Wrath Lich collapsed into his own gore.


    Not to be shown up, Zarraz clapped his hand together and let out a wild laugh. The lich in front of him continued to gesture for his magics, but the fire never came. The man stopped, confused, before doubling over. He tore at his hood, but could not remove it before blood began to pour from his mouth, nose, and eyes. He, too, fell.


    The third lich, horrified, dropped his hands and began to run, but Matthew roared and grabbed the man¡¯s cloak.


    ¡°No!¡± Matthew spat as he pulled the wizard back. The man was begging for his life while Matthew ripped his hood off. The Wrath Lich was younger than any of them had expected.


    ¡°Please, I¡¯m sorry.¡± the man wept.


    ¡°No!¡± Matthew screamed again, grabbing the bottom half of the man¡¯s face with the banded arm. The lich¡¯s muffled scream responded to the growing heat.


    ¡°Wait, Matthew!¡±


    Pop! The lich¡¯s headless body fell as Matthew whipped the gore from his fingers.


    ¡°You ruined him!¡± Zarraz said, sounding more disappointed than anything else. ¡°We can only get two now.¡±


    ¡°The fewer liches the better. Do what you have to do Zarraz, but take those damned cloaks off of them. Don¡¯t need the extra attention.¡± Matthew, seething, climbed back on the wagon to see Benji and Sarah staring with horror and disgust. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s gotten into you?¡± Sarah asked.


    ¡°Me? What¡¯s gotten into you? Lose your edge?¡±


    ¡°Lose it? Matthew, I never had an edge like this! You are-¡±


    ¡°Sarah,¡± Benji interrupted. ¡°Look.¡± Benji pointed to Zarraz as he worked to reanimate the fallen Wrath Liches. Benji gagged when the man with the hole in his torso tried to stand, but lost some of his organs as he straightened. The corpse looked down at the slop of innards in confusion while Zarraz seemed to console it. Benji turned to check Sarah¡¯s reaction but she was already off the wagon, waving goodbye as she walked back in the direction of the small town.

 Winters Daughter Scene III

    The blizzard finally broke. Weeks of travel. Of monsters and slavers. Trial after trial befell the villagers as they pilgrimaged to the Bridgefort, but  they were being led by the avatar of Petra Ymirstottir, the Winter¡¯s Daughter. And she had made them a promise.


    The silhouette of the structure could be seen against the rising sun, and Petra let out a sigh of relief. It had been a rough journey, but she knew her people. They were able and willing to handle the challenges. There were many days when packs of feral wolves were surrounding the camp, or slaver scouts had been spotted. Where Petra¡¯s warriors went out into the snow without telling her there was danger.


    They would come back with scabs and bruises and proud grins.


    These were worth it. Her pride would swell bigger than theirs, even. Petra had not been a goddess for long. Less than a generation. But she loved her people, and she loved the feeling she got when they worked to please her.


    It was as though the sun was shining brighter, but just for her. Even though they were far in the north, and much of their journey saw no sunlight at all, she felt it. The warmth of worship is not a warmth of temperature, but one in the nucleus of your existence. A second wind for the will to live. The thing at the heart of every ascendant. The Light of Greatness.


    ¡°Is that the bridge?¡± one of the younger children asked Petra as the camp hurried to join the goddess and her scouting party.


    ¡°Aye, that¡¯s Bridgefort. The sign of our friendship with Gessel and his Church of the Will. The paladins will be here to help us. Now, keep your scarf on. Just because there is some sun does not mean it¡¯s warm!¡±


    The little girl giggled. ¡°I can take it! I spent the winter with Winter¡¯s Daughter!¡±


    ¡°Then you know to trust the Winter¡¯s Daughter when she talks about cold! Put your scarf back on.¡± Petra teased.


    The little girl laughed. ¡°Okay. But only till noon.¡± She scampered back to the rest of the group as she bundled herself in the thick cloth.


    The children had grown so much, and were recovering nicely from this disaster. Some of them still woke up, clutching for their parents. Nightmares of the slaver attack were not uncommon.


    In fact, Petra still had them herself from time to time. The real tragedy came for the kids who no longer had parents to cling to when they woke up. Just another duty for the Winter¡¯s Daughter. She could scoop them up and let them cry. She would sing them soft songs or tell them sweet stories until they fell asleep in her arms. And the light would grow brighter inside her for it.


    As the camp caught up with the scouts, the woman Petra had sent ahead to greet the fort was returning. Petra waved to welcome her, but the woman did not wave back.


    ¡°Ymirstottir,¡± she said when she came close enough. ¡°Ymirstottir. Look.¡± The woman was carrying something under her arm, a thick white cloak. She shook the bundle open to reveal a paladin¡¯s cape and buckler, all caked with rusted blood.


    ¡°What is this?¡± one of the scout men asked.


    ¡°I just barely got hold of this. It was in a pile on the north side of the fort. They are inside, Ymirstottir. What do we do?¡±


    ¡°Who?¡± Petra figured the question was obvious. But she needed to be sure before she let anyone panic.


    ¡°The slavers.¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Petra was despondent. How could this happen? She had led them all this far to be trapped against the canyon?


    Her despair was obviously palpable as the adults looked to each other nervously. ¡°Ymirstottir,¡± one man said finally. ¡°Do not worry. These slavers will be crushed. We have the Winter on our side.¡±If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    ¡°No, you have its daughter for now.¡± Petra sighed. ¡°And I do not know if it will be enough.¡±


    ¡°Bridgefort is impregnable,¡± another adult added with a tinge of sadness.


    Petra stepped off on her own a handful of steps in the direction of the fortress. She gripped the fur pouch on her hip and grumbled. She plunged her hand in and removed a large curved ram¡¯s horn.


    ¡°Sorry to bother you,¡± she muttered as she raised the horn to her lips and blew. The sound was earthshaking. Snow was blasting skyward in every direction around the goddess as the blast rang out. The makeshift snowstorm was blinding.


    ¡°What did she do!?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t see anything!¡±


    The villagers yelped and shouted as the snow filled the air. The fearful shouts of children grated against Petra, but she knew it would just be a moment of discomfort. Then, over the cacophony, she heard a heavy footfall.


    A thud accompanied by the crunch of snow and a slight tremble to the earth beneath them. The visitor¡¯s voice came suddenly, like a trumpet. ¡°Hello!¡± And with the greeting, the snowstorm was blown aside by an otherworldly gale.


    It took a moment for the men and women to realize who was amongst them. When the towering figure came into view, they all gasped and bowed their heads. The children, though, knew immediately. They whooped and hollered with glee.


    The avatar of Ymir, the Father of Winter was massive. Twice as tall as the tallest amongst the group, he was large enough to easily carry the makeshift battering ram on his back. The weapon consisted of a pine tree¡¯s trunk, the crown of which was still covered in needled limbs that dragged through the snow behind him.


    His massive shoulders were made larger by a thick pelt cloak decorated with tusks and teeth, and his thick brown hair was braided and adorned with beads. But amongst the locks were icicles that further betrayed his godhood and his affinity for ice.


    ¡°Father!¡± Petra shouted happily as Ymir approached.


    ¡°What a bad father I am. Can not even keep my word.¡± Ymir¡¯s voice was low, smooth, and all-present on the tundra. ¡°Did you not say this was a task for Petra and Petra alone?¡±


    ¡°This is a special circumstance, father,¡± Petra said sheepishly.


    Ymir turned his head to one of the nearby warriors. ¡°As they often are when a child calls for help. ¡®Father, stay away until I say you can help,¡¯ correct?¡± The warrior smiled with understanding. Ymir turned his massive head to see the children gathering, watching in slack jawed awe as their hero stood amongst them. ¡°Hello little ones!¡±


    ¡°Father, Bridgefort has fallen to the slavers.¡±


    Ymir swung back to look at his daughter, his light blue eyes flickering with concern. ¡°What is that you say, daughter?¡±


    ¡°It is true. Anna, would you show him, please?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Winter¡¯s Daughter. Winterfather, please.¡± The warrior who had scouted Bridgefort presented the bloodied cloak and shield to Ymir and bowed. ¡°I found it in a pile of equipment in similar condition by the main door. A guard spotted me and fired, but I managed to escape with this.¡±


    Ymir looked to the fort and grimaced. ¡°Those fools attack Gessel without regard?¡± The giant looked back at his daughter. ¡°Petra, you were right to call me after all. This conflict may be beyond your contract.¡±


    ¡°What would you have us do, Winterfather?¡± another warrior asked.


    ¡°Bridgefort may not fall to surly people. Not only is it part of our responsibility to Gessel, but the men and women of the south are ill-equipped to battle the monsters in that fortress.¡±


    ¡°They say,¡± Petra said playfully. ¡°That Bridgefort is impregnable.¡±


    Ymir looked at her, at the uncomfortable adults, and at the excited children. He swung his head back and erupted with laughed. It was as though the entire tundra laughed with him as the guffaws echoed across the open land and off toward the canyon to the south.


    ¡°For the Father of Winter? There is no such thing!¡± Ymir gripped the massive tree trunk on his back and hefted it before him. He gripped a large metal handle affixed to the siege weapon¡¯s center and swung it forward with a roar, mimicking an assault on a fortress gate. He looked to the humans amongst him. ¡°My friends, for Petra and myself, there is nothing that can not be done today. We would love to grant any of you the chance to prove your heroics! But I will only allow you to join if your child is not waiting for your return.¡±


    The warriors shuffled around until only a handful remained, with them mostly being split between those too young for children, or those old enough to have children grown.


    Ymir looked to Petra and gave her a loving smile. ¡°Our first fortress siege!¡±


    ¡°I have been looking forward to this father,¡± Petra replied. A chill came across the tundra, but Petra and Ymir did not feel cold from it. Instead, the light deep within shone as the warriors gave their silent worship.


    ¡°With me!¡± Ymir¡¯s cry rumbled across the field and the small group of twelve soldiers and two ascendants began their march to retake Bridgefort.

 Bleedingheart Scene XIII

    Sam had thought for sure that Gretta and Father Pryce would have made Kaitlyn stay at the chapel, and allow Sam to go back to The Throne alone.


    ¡°Healthy enough to kill my garden? Healthy enough to get out of my house,¡± Gretta had said. Sam had tried to bring up the miscarriage and Kaitlyn¡¯s need to rest to Gretta but she refused to hear it. The woman knew how to hold a grudge.


    ¡°She is from the Stone Circle tribe. Her people are renowned for their hardness. If she says she feels well enough to hurry along, I think we can trust her,¡± Father Pryce said calmly. And still Sam resisted the idea. He could not get the sight of the blood out of his mind.


    ¡°Look Sam,¡± Father Pryce had added. ¡°She will not yield. And she will not listen to us. She was willing to tear this building down to get her way. If she wants to leave, two old fools and green paladin are not going to stop her. You may as well make sure she stays safe.¡±


    And so the two set out. And they walked in silence for an entire day. Father Pryce was completely accurate, though. Nothing was stopping Kaitlyn. Sam had offered to stop, to take breaks, light a fire and warm, several times. When he finally talked her into stopping, Kaitlyn was restless and constantly looking out toward The Throne.


    ¡°When do you want to stop for the night?¡± Sam asked her about an hour after the sun had set. She still pressed on through the woods.


    ¡°Oh,¡± Kaitlyn looked back to him, looking exhausted. Dark circles hung under her eyes, and she looked very pale. But her eyes were awake and focused. ¡°I was planning on still moving. We can catch up to them if we keep our stops to as few as possible.¡±


    ¡°You just wanted to hike for three straight days? After what you¡¯ve been through?¡±


    Kaitlyn suddenly looked annoyed. ¡°What do you mean, Corporal?¡± There was silence for a moment, and then Kaitlyn turned back and continued walking.


    ¡°It¡¯s,¡± Sam thought hard about his next words. ¡°It¡¯s been a long day, Kaitlyn. Besides, won¡¯t your magic be stronger after you rest?¡±


    ¡°Well, the magic will not be much of a help right now.¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡±


    Kaitlyn stopped and spun on the spot. ¡°Because, Paladin! I am a little too emotional right now to keep proper control of the elements! Would you like to see what that means for you?¡±


    Kaitlyn really hoped he would not call her bluff. She could feel the elements gathering around her. The planet noticed her pain and was eager to do whatever it could to help ease it. But even Kaitlyn knew it was too much. She gnawed on her tongue, partitioning herself from the world around her, cutting off her emotional connection to the spirits that were always there to support her, whatever the result. This would be something to solve once Matthew was stopped.


    Sam said nothing. He looked at her, his face completely unchanged by her show of force. In his head, Sam was considering the risk of further pushing the subject. To be honest, though, being weak would not help anyone.


    ¡°Nothing you did not show off already in the chapel,¡± he said nonchalantly. ¡°But Gretta has already touched base with the druids at The Throne. They will be ready for this Matthew man if he beats us there, but I am exhausted, and I am sure you are, too. So I really think it would be best if we just rested for the night.¡±


    Kaitlyn¡¯s breath caught. Her idiot husband and his stupid friends were scrambling toward their own deaths at the hands of the Church of the Will. But nothing was going to change this kid¡¯s mind.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you just stop and let me go?¡± she asked. ¡°This is my fight.¡±


    ¡°Because I am responsible for your safety at this moment.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t think I can protect myself?¡±


    ¡°Well, considering I¡¯m not under a pile of rocks right now, I¡¯m not sure if you can.¡± Sam folded his arms and stared Kaitlyn down. ¡°You nearly killed me back at the church without thinking twice. I doubt the few hours of silence did much to foster any warm feelings between us. But I¡¯m still here. And since I doubt you¡¯re unwilling to harm me, I have to assume you¡¯re unable.¡±


    Kaitlyn wanted to scream, but even that could unstopper her power. ¡°Fine. We¡¯ll stop. Just¡­ put up a fire or something.¡±Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    ¡°That¡¯s more like it,¡± Sam grumbled, pulling his pack off of his shoulder and moving to the side of the road.


    Sam and Kaitlyn built a fire on only one log. Kaitlyn was surprisingly helpful for not wanting to stop. Still, she was speaking as little as possible. Sam asked her to hand him things or help him with something. She would mutter wordlessly to make clear she understood, but then go right back to silence.


    Once the fire was set, Sam projected a small, bubble-like barrier to insulate their warmth as the late-winter cold set in.


    ¡°You¡¯re not too cold, are you?¡± Sam asked as he handed Kaitlyn a piece of the packaged meals Father Pryce had sent with them.


    ¡°No,¡± was all she said.


    ¡°Okay, good.¡± Sam looked at the ground and listened to the crackle of the small fire. ¡°We will leave right away. Just need a few hours of sleep.¡±


    ¡°Yep.¡±


    The quiet was becoming painful. There is no way Kaitlyn was handling this situation with the stoicism she is broadcasting. Sam remembered back to the days they spent learning emotional first aid in his confidant training.


    People came in all shapes and sizes. Some are more flexible than others. But Kaitlyn lost her friends, family, and her child in just a few hours.


    ¡°Kaitlyn,¡± he finally muttered. ¡°I¡¯m very sorry about what happened. I want to help make it right.¡±


    The shaman did not respond. She just stared into the fire.


    ¡°I want to make sure you¡¯re okay.¡±


    ¡°What is your favorite time of year?¡± Kaitlyn asked, not looking up.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡±


    ¡°Out of the four seasons, which one is your favorite? My grandmother always said that a person¡¯s personality and gifts showed up in which time of year they thrive. I¡¯m here with you on my way to¡­ stop my husband. So I would like to know more.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Well. Autumn probably?¡±


    ¡°Hmm,¡± Kaitlyn said, looking Sam up and down from across the fire. ¡°I don¡¯t see it too much. Like I said, though. I don¡¯t know you well. What do you like about autumn?¡±


    Sam thought hard about it, but he could not think of a good reason. Finally, he shrugged and said ¡°the leaves, I suppose.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not certain enough. That can¡¯t be your season.¡±


    ¡°Well what do you think my season is?¡±


    ¡°Well, you¡¯re warm, hospitable, but harsh. By that I mean stubborn. You¡¯re summer.¡±


    Sam thought for a moment. She had a point. He loved the time they got off school in the summer, after all. Spending the afternoons in the gardens with his sisters playing tag despite the heat, then being called to the patio by their mother with a tray of cool drinks for them. They were delightful memories that brought a reflexive smile to his face.


    ¡°But they say that folks not sure about their season are not sure about themselves,¡± Kaitlyn added as she shifted on the extra bed roll that Sam thought to pack. ¡°It¡¯s clear that you have some sort of chip on your shoulder, and I think it has to do with that scar on your armor.¡±


    Sam was astounded. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°You were so eager to make me your ¡®responsibility¡¯.¡± Kaitlyn gave the word air quotes with a hint of spite. ¡°If I had to guess, you have something to prove. You want to do a good job.¡±


    Sam was speechless. Having his emotions pulled out like this was shockingly uncomfortable.


    ¡°Suppose I¡¯m right?¡± Kaitlyn asked as she rolled over, her back to Sam. ¡°Grandma also taught me how to read people. I just wish it was as easy as this all the time.¡±


    ¡°Did you only bring this up to try to deflect off of me checking on you?¡±


    ¡°Good night, Corporal.¡±


    The dream came to Kaitlyn vividly. The most vivid dream, actually, she had had in years. She was standing on the edge of a cliff over a long, rolling plain. Thick clouds drooped overhead like curtains pinned to a ceiling, slinging shadows on the plain. The sun was setting ahead of her, fallen already behind the lumbering, mountainous silhouette of what could only be Kraag¡¯s avatar.


    The warm breeze blowing on her face brought her whole body to ease. She took a deep breath. It smelled like rain. Kaitlyn was surprised, though, to find her hands full. She looked down and breathed deeply.


    In her left arm, an infant was swaddled in a brown shawl. It looked just like the shawl her grandmother would wear. The child was without any salient features, just completely generic looking. But she knew, in her heart, it was the child she lost. It slept gently, its tiny nostrils flaring in the breeze.


    Then she looked to the other hand, which was palm down. Her fingers were spread wide, and looking up at her between them were the bulging, fearful eyes of Matthew Carpenter. He was kneeling on the ground, Kaitlyn¡¯s strength was what held him in place.


    Desperately, he began to lift his arm. A glistening metal armlet covered his entire forearm.


    ¡°Let us be here for you,¡± a chorus of soft voices said. Kaitlyn looked out to the plains.


    ¡°Why did you not warn me about him?¡± she asked the voices. The baby stirred in her arm.


    ¡°Just as you did,¡± the voices began to respond. ¡°We believed in him. We believed his love for you would beat his love for power.¡±


    ¡°What will you do to him?¡±


    ¡°Nothing. We will give you everything you need.¡±


    Kraag¡¯s deep roar shook the cliffside. Kaitlyn smiled at the sleeping child, then looked back at Matthew. With little more than a thought, the stones rose up around him and pulled him beneath the earth.

 The Exiled Minister Scene V

    ¡°She refuses to talk to me, Enoch,¡± Cayd said shrugging as he sat across from the High Sergeant in the office of the Cathedral¡¯s operations manager. ¡°I thought being an outsider would have given me an edge on the conversation.¡±


    ¡°Still? Even after we gave her two days to calm down?¡± Boldbounty asked. He shook his head slowly. ¡°This is the perfect storm of Church stupidity and she decides to go mum on us.¡±


    ¡°Can you blame her?¡±


    ¡°Well, considering the circumstances and my legal authority, she is kind of the only one I can blame.¡±


    ¡°Well, when is the Justicar arriving?¡±


    ¡°This afternoon.¡±


    ¡°And we can not just ask him to postpone the trip?¡±


    ¡°Ah yes,¡± Boldbounty mocked, rising from his chair. ¡°Mr. Justicar, despite the fact that you have been personally seeking the death of this particular criminal and wish to immediately execute her despite generations of tradition and regulation, I want you to just not do that.¡±


    ¡°He has to understand the information we get from her is more valuable than the message of her death, though, right? Not to mention the fact that a god may rush to rescue her at any moment.¡±


    ¡°The Church has promoted this particular Justicar far beyond the need to be understanding,¡± Boldbounty sighed as he moved toward one of the office¡¯s large windows overlooking Dawnbreak. ¡°Most executions take six months, Cayd. We¡¯re knocking this one out in three days. Ah well, hopefully that little priestess can get something out of her before too long.¡±


    ¡°She is something,¡± Cayd said, nodding. ¡°She just fit right in, didn¡¯t she?¡±


    ¡°One of the benefits of Church life,¡± the High Sergeant said. ¡°One learns to be flexible. Well, more malleable.¡±


    ¡°I am sorry I could not be as easy to mould as her,¡± Cayd said glumly. ¡°And on that note, with the Captain caught, I¡¯m planning on my next move.¡±


    ¡°Already?¡± Boldbounty turned back to Cayd.


    ¡°What do you mean? I¡¯ve been here all winter,¡± Cayd laughed. ¡°At risk of being rude, I was wondering if any of my payment is ready?¡±


    ¡°Do you not think I¡¯ve shared with you all I have learned?¡±


    ¡°Frankly?¡± Cayd asked, smiling slyly.


    Boldbounty allowed the tension to rise for effect before guffawing. ¡°Always the clever tactician, Mr. Cayd. You have called my bluff. And I suppose you have met your end of the bargain. We would have lost the Washway were it not for your use of that lantern.¡±


    ¡°I was just as lucky to have bumped into it on the street.¡±


    ¡°Well, I will recall the nets I tossed the day we met and share with you anything we found about that former student of yours.¡±


    ¡°I truly appreciate that, Enoch.¡±


    ¡°Gentlemen!¡± The Mother Superior¡¯s cry came suddenly from the other side of Boldbounty¡¯s office door.


    ¡°Mother Superior?¡±


    ¡°Boldbounty, open this door. We need to talk.¡±


    The fanged folk priestess rushed into the room as a gust of wind as soon as the door was even cracked open. ¡°No sense of decorum! None at all!¡±


    ¡°What is wrong?¡±


    ¡°Justicar Helmshead is here already, demanding an asinine Clergy Call in the courtyard right now.¡±


    ¡°Well, were we expecting anything less?¡± Boldbounty asked.


    ¡°No! But dammit, he is hours early! I had the Clergy Call already in the day¡¯s minutes. Can you please put some weight behind that shield of yours and get him to reconsider?¡±


    ¡°I mean, I could try, but I do not think a Justicar will care what I want.¡±


    ¡°I am particularly uncomfortable taking that temporary-duty girl out of Zora¡¯s cell. She is the only interrogator we have on staff that has gotten that wench to speak!¡±


    ¡°Well, why not just let her off the hook for the Clergy Call? She has more important places to be, no?¡±


    The Mother Superior stopped for a moment, and began to seethe. ¡°Well why is this even being called into question? Why did the Justicar not send a messenger ahead?¡±


    ¡°I will talk to him. Mr. Cayd, would you like to meet the Crossroads Justicar?¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡±


    ¡°Just do not go bragging about how important a Gavundari was in this,¡± the Mother Superior snarled. ¡°I won¡¯t have Cayd messing up my chances for promotion back to The Throne.¡± Cayd responded with a sly wink and the three left the office.


    As the trio got closer to the welcoming hall of the Cathedral, the activity was becoming more and more frantic. It was evident that something was happening, and when they came across a gaggle of priests and paladins standing near the door to the lobby, the Mother Superior erupted.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°What do you think you are doing!? He is a Justicar, not a celebrity. Stop blocking the door, you fools!¡± she barked, startling the group. They immediately shuffled aside. ¡°Do you not have enough to do today? Because the baseboards of my office are looking a little dusty.¡±


    Muted apologies came from all sides as they pressed through the door. The Mother Superior shot off a final, hushed warning before moving to the lobby. ¡°Do not be out here when I come back or we may have to schedule several more executions.¡±


    She immediately switched to her happy face, however, when she lead Boldbounty and Cayd into the welcoming hall. In the center, a small man stood, flanked by a diminutive priestess carrying a thick, leather bound book, and a mountainous paladin with a tower shield.


    The small man was impressive, though, by any other measure. His face seemed worked from stone, the angles jagged and deep. His armor was extremely stylized, the pauldrons of which were decorated with metalwork catoblepas heads that went up nearly as high as his own. A thick, royal blue cloak ran between the bovine shoulderplates and clasped in the front with a jeweled miniature cow skull. At his hip hung his signature weapon. His personal gavel, a warhammer enchanted so that only he may wield it.


    It kept the bovine theme. While the striking head was a smooth, flat, but sparkling silver, the opposite side was mounted with horns that curled like a catoblepas and looked like they were made from pearl.


    ¡°Well if it isn¡¯t the Mother Superior!¡± he called, his voice filling the room.


    ¡°Mother Superior of the Dawnbreak Cathedral, please allow me to welc-¡± the small priestess began to recite the official greeting but she was cut off.


    ¡°Oh, stop it. We¡¯ve all heard the lines before,¡± the old priestess said as she made her way to welcome the Justicar. Boldbounty and Cayd shared a small laugh as they followed her over.


    Almost immediately, political smalltalk broke out between Boldbounty, the Mother, and the Justicar. Cayd tried to listen, but he could feel the small priestess looking on him.


    ¡°What brings a Gavundari to a greeting of a Justicar?¡± she finally asked softly.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure myself. What wraps one in a habit?¡± he asked with a grin.


    ¡°Second generation,¡± she said with a nod. ¡°My parents came to present on behalf of their workshop at the Duskfall Expo. Decided to stay. Called me their souvenir.¡±


    Cayd laughed at the joke, but tried his best to end the conversation there. He was frankly more interested in the fate of that pirate.


    ¡°Do you work here?¡± the priestess asked.


    ¡°Sort of,¡± Cayd said dismissively.


    ¡°Hmm,¡± the priestess mused. ¡°I can tell from your tattoos that you¡¯re a sorcerer. I wish I had kept up with my family¡¯s culture. The most my hands can do is take notes.¡±


    ¡°Well shouldn¡¯t you be taking notes of this conversation?¡± Cayd asked, more impolitely than he had intended, but it got the message across. The priestess smoldered, frustrated.


    ¡°Excuse me. It¡¯s just rare to see someone like yourself. Funny coincidence what with the magic user in Crossroads that¡¯s been showing up.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Cayd asked, loud enough to interrupt the conversation the Mother Superior and Justicar were having.


    ¡°Excuse me, Sister Elizabeth?¡± the Justicar almost sang. It communicated his authority well. Too practiced for Cayd¡¯s tastes. ¡°Were you writing down what we were discussing? It has to do with tomorrow¡¯s schedule, after all.¡±


    ¡°I apologize Justicar,¡± the priestess said with a small bow. ¡°Please repeat the plans.¡±


    The Justicar mockingly rolled his eyes toward Boldbounty and the Mother Superior and began to recite the plans. ¡°The Clergy Call will be in one hour, then-¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry to interrupt, Justicar,¡± Boldbounty said. ¡°But I mentioned that one hour was too soon. I would like to keep the Clergy Call for its previously scheduled time this afternoon.¡±


    The Justicar looked unimpressed. ¡°Where do we find these assistants?¡± he asked the Mother Superior who cackled a laugh.


    ¡°Please, be political, High Sergeant,¡± she reprimanded. ¡°The Justicar does not get to visit our fair city often. He needs time to see the sights.¡±


    ¡°If the sights include horse turds all over the courtyard during his Clergy Call, he¡¯ll see plenty.¡±


    ¡°High Sergeant, please.¡± The Justicar looked, and sounded offended.


    ¡°I just need a few hours to get the place cleaned up,¡± Boldbounty groaned.


    ¡°Well, I apologize that the cathedral¡¯s residents were unable to plan ahead for my visit.¡± The Justicar¡¯s nose crinkled in annoyance. ¡°Fine, we will have the Clergy Call at the original time, but High Sergeant, I would suggest you immediately get to work on those ¡®horse turds.¡¯¡±


    ¡°Yes, Justicar,¡± Boldbounty said bowing.


    ¡°You are dismissed, High Sergeant,¡± the Mother Superior said with a wave.


    Boldbounty gestured for Cayd to follow him as the Justicar moved to check over the priestess¡¯s recording of his schedule so far. As they turned to leave, Cayd watched the Mother Superior smile widely at Boldbounty before mouthing the words ¡°thank you.¡±


    ¡°We will talk soon, Sister Elizabeth,¡± Cayd called to her as they stepped out.


    ¡°Damn, I hate high profile visits,¡± Boldbounty groaned. ¡°Nothing stings like a grown man being made to feel like a child.¡±


    ¡°Is it always like this?¡± Cayd asked. ¡°The second takes all the heat for the leader¡¯s poor performance?¡±


    ¡°More or less,¡± Boldbounty said with a playful shrug. ¡°You either scar up from it or you have a breakdown. How do you all do it overseas?¡±


    ¡°Well, my experience has been that the only common language across many of the communities of the empire is a fistfight. That Justicar would have been on the floor had he made that assistant''s comment in Gavundar.¡±


    The two laughed as they made their way back through the halls, but were suddenly interrupted by Sister Maribel.


    ¡°High Sergeant, Cayd,¡± she said bowing. ¡°I believe I am finished with the Captain for now.¡±


    ¡°Does she know she is being executed tomorrow?¡±


    ¡°I was going to tell her this evening,¡± Maribel said. ¡°Wait until the Justicar was already here and the schedule was certain. Figure changes to the timing of one¡¯s death do little but make the anxiety matter worse.¡±


    ¡°Good news, then,¡± Cayd replied. ¡°He¡¯s early. Did she say anything about a rescue plan?¡±


    ¡°Nothing at all,¡± Maribel said, shaking her head. ¡°But something is bothering me. She still seems hopeful. Happy, even. She asked about tomorrow¡¯s weather report.¡±

 The Throne

    Corporal Shiner shoved the last bite of one of Madge¡¯s scones into his waiting mouth as he crossed the evening-lit Back City square. Yet another reason to hate the night shift. The scones were stale.


    ¡°Shiner!¡±


    Shiner looked around looking for the source of the voice, but did not slow his pace. Since the main gate¡¯s emergency security checks began the day before, the Back City had been packed, even at night.


    ¡°Shiner, stop walking!¡±


    ¡°Sammy?¡± Shiner called out through a full mouth, suddenly recognizing the voice.


    ¡°Right here,¡± Sam said breathlessly as he pressed through frustrated pedestrians. ¡°Shiner, what is happening? There¡¯s a line to get into the city.¡±


    ¡°Security checks,¡± Shiner said with a shrug. ¡°Order came down from the council, I hear. But we¡¯re off the hook back here. Business as usual!¡±


    Sam snorted. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m sure. Is the tunnel still open?¡±


    ¡°Not unless it¡¯s an emergency.¡±


    Sam looked back to Kaitlyn behind him. ¡°Are you good to walk through a tunnel?¡±


    ¡°Please, Corporal,¡± she scoffed. ¡°Can we just hurry? He¡¯s probably here somewhere already.¡±


    ¡°Who¡¯s the girl, Sammy?¡± Shiner asked with a playful smirk. ¡°A little old for you, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    ¡°Who¡¯s the ass?¡± Kaitlyn retorted. ¡°I don¡¯t have time for games, Paladin.¡±


    ¡°Kaitlyn, please. He can help,¡± Sam urged. He turned back to Shiner. ¡°Are you going on watch? We could use an extra hand.¡±


    ¡°In a few hours,¡± Shiner said, turning his head up in thought. ¡°But I¡¯m relieving Grim and he started calling me ¡®Shit Shiner¡¯ so he can squirm.¡±


    ¡°This is more important,¡± Kaitlyn urged.


    ¡°We¡¯ll fill you in as we move.¡± Sam explained. He looked over to where the tunnel into the throne began. A steady stream of people were gathering at the mouth. One of the paladins from the Back City Mission was not allowing anyone through.


    ¡°I do not think we will pass the security checks,¡± Benji said, craning his neck to look ahead. They were in the midst of a frustrated crowd made up of commuters, merchants, and tourists as they tried to shuffle into The Throne.


    The gates had been modified for the security situation. Scaffolding, wooden slats, and metal plates had transformed the massive entryway into a series of fifteen low doorways set in even intervals in the center of the mountain''s base. As the crowd approached, it filed into one of the fifteen doorways. Zarraz, Benji, and Matthew were all set to enter the last of the fifteen. The one that put them up against the main hall¡¯s eastern wall once inside.


    ¡°We do not need to,¡± Matthew muttered. ¡°As soon as they pull the tarp off of that bull in the wagon, it will be game-on.¡±


    ¡°What makes you so sure? What if they just slay the creature right then?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what the cultists will be for.¡±


    ¡°And if they fail, Matthew?¡±


    ¡°Then we walk in, Benji. Shut up now.¡±


    ¡°Where is the crypt entrance?¡±


    ¡°Benji. Enough.¡±


    Sam and Shiner were leading Kaitlyn through the tunnel, holding their shields ahead. The shields were giving off brilliant golden light that illuminated the way ahead.


    ¡°Are there more guards in the merchant hall?¡± Sam asked.


    ¡°No, actually. Fewer. They¡¯ve split the entire force between out front of the gates and up in the residential areas. Once you get in, it''s an honor system.¡±


    ¡°That is profoundly stupid,¡± Sam muttered.


    ¡°What are we expecting?¡±


    ¡°Someone¡¯s stolen the Halcyon Band, Shiner. He¡¯s trying to get the rest of the armor.¡±


    ¡°Maybe,¡± Kaitlyn corrected. ¡°He may just use the band to cause chaos.¡±


    Sam grunted. ¡°At the very least, a relic¡¯s been stolen by a dangerous man.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s your relation, miss?¡±


    ¡°I helped him steal it,¡± Kaitlyn said matter-of-factly.


    Shiner paused, waiting for more of an explanation. When one never came he just said ¡°oh.¡±


    ¡°Once you spot him, Kaitlyn, point him out and look for cover. Shiner and I will handle the rest.¡±


    ¡°No, Corporal. He is my responsibility.¡±


    ¡°You keep saying that, but you also defend him. Make excuses,¡± Sam grumbled.


    ¡°I¡¯m dealing with a lot.¡±


    Sam suddenly stopped, irritated by Kaitlyn¡¯s constant prodding and the several sleepless nights. ¡°You know, it doesn¡¯t seem like it. It seems like you are just letting us handle it while you get a front row seat. I wanted you to stay behind and recover from all of this. Instead you spent three days not talking to me unless you wanted to confirm that your husband would not be hurt by a paladin.¡±


    ¡°If Matthew pulls something here, then it is at least partially my fault,¡± Kaitlyn said. ¡°If he does not get the chance, then I can forgive myself.¡±


    ¡°And him as well, I guess?¡± Sam asked.


    Kaitlyn was silent.


    ¡°Sorry to interrupt, but if there is a man with a stolen relic trying to get into the city, I guarantee the security check will want to know about it,¡± Shiner chimed. ¡°So we should probably pick up our pace?¡±


    Zarraz turned around in the wagon¡¯s driver seat to see the trembling, blanket-covered heap.


    ¡°Settle down, friends. We¡¯re almost there! And then you can show me what you are made of.¡±


    ¡°Hey! Wagon guy! The line¡¯s moving!¡± another person awaiting permission to enter The Throne shouted from behind. Zarraz turned quickly to see an armored paladin waving him up to the city gates.


    ¡°Hello sir, what¡¯s in the wagon?¡±


    ¡°Hides. Taking them to market,¡± Zarraz replied.


    ¡°Ah, well if you are looking to sell here then you will need to go to the cargo inspection lane,¡± the paladin instructed, gesturing through the gates and off to the side where Zarraz could just make out a line of wagons stopped side by side.


    ¡°Oh,¡± Zarraz said, sounding more disappointed than he should have. He looked over his shoulder, searching for Matt and Benji.


    ¡°Move along please, sir. Follow her.¡± The paladin pointed to another guard that was waving him through the gate while simultaneously pointing to an empty inspection station.


    ¡°Uh, okay.¡± Zarraz shrunk in the wagon as he urged the horse toward the stall. The female paladin was small, and mostly smile. Her chestplate and grieves rest in a small wooden chair at the back of her stall, allowing her to enjoy the ease of motion in just an undershirt.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    ¡°Good afternoon sir,¡± she said grinning, taking part of the reins in hand to help lead the horse and wagon. ¡°I hope I can be the first to welcome you into The Throne! Let me give you your rights as an inspectee, mister¡­¡±


    ¡°Zarraz is my name,¡± he responded, smiling back. Looking back again to the gate.


    ¡°Mister Zarraz,¡± she said with a nod. ¡°I am Private Flowers. Let me begin by explaining that under Talnorel¡¯s Alliance, The Throne was deemed a free travel city, however, the Church of the Will maintains that in event of a security concern, strict controls regarding city entry can be invoked. And as I¡¯m sure you have seen, it has been today.


    ¡°By entering the city, you are complying with an inspection of your property for any dangerous or illegal goods. If you refuse the inspection, then we reserve the right to refuse you entry to the city. If you do comply, you will be granted as much autonomy and dignity as possible during the procedure to ensure that the inspector and city remain safe and your privacy is respected.


    ¡°Does that all sound okay to you?¡±


    ¡°I suppose I don¡¯t have much of a choice but to agree,¡± Zarraz laughed, half-joking. ¡°Let us just get this over with!¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir! Please start by opening the driver¡¯s bins there.¡±


    Zarraz followed the paladin¡¯s instructions, peeking inside the wagon for the first time himself. He wished he had known there was a tin of crackers in the bin. And that coat. It had been quite chilly in the morning.


    ¡°Pull the coat aside, would you?¡± Private Flowers asked. Zarraz did as she had requested to show there was nothing more in the bin.


    ¡°Alrighty, now let us check the stuff in the back.¡±


    Zarraz began to climb from the wagon and the paladin started to make small talk.


    ¡°Zarraz, is that a Gavundari name?¡±


    ¡°It is. I¡¯m from the Capital.¡±


    ¡°Wow! Long way from home, huh?¡±


    ¡°Very,¡± Zarraz said, swallowing the tingle of homesickness he was not expecting.


    ¡°What brings a hide salesman from Gavundar to The Throne?¡±


    ¡°Winters are colder here,¡± Zarraz joked. He preempted the paladin¡¯s request and peeled back the corner of the tarp, showing the catoblepas¡¯s shank. His stomach turned when he saw the paladin frown.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, sir, but this catoblepas has not been skinned or cleaned?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m an artisan,¡± Zarraz urged, his hands starting to sweat. He looked back toward the gate, searching for Benji¡¯s head above the crowd. ¡°I work on-site.¡±


    ¡°Sir, due to hygiene concerns, I can not permit this cargo entry to The Throne. If you want to enter you will have to part with it and it will be disposed of.¡±


    Zarraz continued watching the throngs shuffling through the gate. ¡°Uh, that¡¯s tricky, Flowers. It has a way of following me.¡±


    ¡°Sir, please, look at me.¡±


    Finally, Zarraz saw Benji, who was likewise searching the inspection area for Zarraz. Their eyes met for an instant, and Zarraz decided to charge.


    ¡°If you must confiscate my things, go right ahead,¡± Zarraz muttered, turning back to her. He pulled the tarp further up. The beast shuddered as it became exposed, and Zarraz grinned at the paladin¡¯s reflexive recoil.


    ¡°Dreamer, what is that?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s my cargo,¡± Zarraz replied.


    The catoblepas was a massive bull, lying in the wagon, its head weighed low by huge, curling horns. What caught the attention of Private Flowers, in addition to the wretched odor of carrion, was that the beast¡¯s left flank was pulped and flecked with exposed organ meat and bone. The white-yellow foam of body fat dripped in puddles under the monster, and its innards gurgled as it struggled to find a new comfortable position.


    ¡°Oh no you don¡¯t,¡± Zarraz muttered, slapping the beast¡¯s neck. ¡°It¡¯s time to play!¡± The creature grunt and began to rise.


    ¡°Sir, get back!¡± Private Flowers commanded, thrusting an open palm in Zarraz¡¯s direction as she gripped her warhammer from her hip with the other hand. An invisible force shoved Zarraz back, knocking him off balance. His tumble resulted in little more than drawing more attention to the rotting monster and the meager cargo inspector.


    With her arms outstretched, Private Flowers¡¯ armor trembled on the chair before flying toward her and clapping on to her arms and torso. The creature spent the moments of her preparation taking in a deep breath. The sound was like gravel underfoot.


    Private Flowers lifted her hammer high, and then the beast began to exhale a thick, dusty fog. It stuck to the paladin¡¯s armor in small, thin scales, but the scales accumulated and calcified. As the armor became heavier, Private Flowers let out a scream.


    And that allowed the stone mist to fill her mouth, throat, and lungs. In a matter of seconds, the paladin¡¯s top half was encased in stone. Her legs gave out and she fell with a clack. The catoblepas then clumsily tumbled from the wagon as it attempted to acclimate to walking again.


    With the large creature missing, two more figures rose up in the back of the wagon. Blood stained and weary looking, the animated corpses of the Wrath Lich highwaymen looked onto the staring crowd. They were carrying crude blades Matt and Benji had found in their roadside camp.


    ¡°Go!¡± Zarraz yelped as he tried to pull himself from the ground.


    Everyone within earshot took the command differently. The crowd nearby began to break into panicked screams having witnessed the death of paladin and the presence of armed assailants within The Throne. The two human corpses lept from the wagon and began their slaughter. The catoblepas strained to lift its heavy head and trumpeted a gravely, tortured cry.


    ¡°What is happening?¡± the paladin at the gate asked when the cacophony at the inspection station interrupted his interview with Matthew.


    The paladin would not get an answer. Matt pressed his open palm against the guard¡¯s armored chest. The heat surged underhand, then pop! The guard fell against the gate¡¯s stone wall, a spatter of blood and innards leaving their mark in the brickwork.


    That caused a panic in the area immediately around them.


    ¡°What did you do!?¡± a woman screamed.


    ¡°We¡¯re under attack!¡± cried a man.


    ¡°Everyone run!¡± came someone¡¯s bright idea. And the stampede began. Matthew kept his head down as he and Benji pushed inside. The crowd outside, panicked by the guard¡¯s death, tried to run inside. The crowd immediately inside, terrified by the catoblepas and two dead assailants, tried to run outside. The paladin¡¯s positioned throughout the gates quickly found themselves overrun and trampled.


    Pained cries rain out from people being sliced by the Wrath Liches mixed with the screams of those being pushed down and stomped on. And all of that mixed with the roars of the catoblepas as it alternated between breathing its lethal mist and goring those who were close by.


    ¡°Matthew!¡± Benji screamed. ¡°Where is the crypt!?¡±


    Matthew had no idea. The merchant hall stretched out ahead of them with its lifts and balconies going in all directions. For a split second, Matthew thought he saw the crimson eyes of his spectral ally floating ahead, but when he looked again, they were gone.


    ¡°Let¡¯s just get to an alley and regroup!¡±


    ¡°Matthew! Are you kidding!? Were you even prepared!?¡±


    The High Council of the Church of the Will had convened on this day specifically because the Pontiff of the Church had received a warning that the thief with the Halcyon band would appear.


    The six other cardinals and single layperson that made up the council were satisfied with the explanation that, based on travel time from Happfield Chapel to the Throne, this would be the day the thieves would arrive. But the Pontiff knew the meeting would not be in vain.


    So when the doormen entered the massive, circular council chambers, marched to the center of the room, and bowed in turn to each of the seven councilmen and women seated behind the bench around them, the father hid that he knew what was happening.


    ¡°Submitted to the High Council of the Church of the Will: there is an incident unfolding in the Main Hall of The Throne¡¯s ground level. There has been a stampede at the gates and a catoblepas loosed in the city with an unknown number of assailants. We have confirmed Clergy and layperson deaths. One corpse had wounds consistent with the improper use of the Halcyon Band.¡±


    ¡°Very well,¡± the Pontiff said quickly as the others looked around, their elderly faces practiced in expressing these levels of distanced concern. ¡°Council, we have already discussed what shall be done in this event, have we not? We will not suffer another massacre as we did in the Back City.¡±


    ¡°Your Holiness,¡± one of the priests said, rising. ¡°I motion to dispatch an Inquisition to the ground floor and recover our relic. The Wrath Liches will not be permitted to spill any more blood in our city!¡±


    ¡°I second the motion,¡± a priestess said as she rose.


    The council turned to James Estin, the only layperson on the council.


    ¡°Mister Estin,¡± one of the cardinals called over. ¡°As the man in charge of zoning and planning for the market hall, your input is required on this matter.¡±


    James looked up, sad and worried. ¡°My daughter is in the market hall today. I want her safe.¡±


    ¡°Very well,¡± the Father Superior nodded. He looked down at a small golden bell on the lectern before him. ¡°An Inquisition shall be dispatched.¡±


    ¡°Where will this tunnel let us out?¡± Kaitlyn asked her paladin partners after the silence grew sour.


    ¡°A few blocks in from the gates. We will be able to check with the gate guards and give them a description of this guy you are looking for,¡± Shiner explained.


    There was a slight angle in the tunnel, and then ahead of them, the exit could be seen. Sam squinted into the darkness past his shield. The light of the exit was flickering. He extinguished the shield and urged Shiner to follow the suit.


    In the quiet and dark, once their eyes had adjusted, they realized that there were people running past the tunnel entrance. As if it took that clarity to trigger the senses, the frightened screams began to fill the tunnel around them.


    ¡°We¡¯re too late,¡± Kaitlyn whispered.


    Then, they were accosted by a sound louder than any of the three of them had heard in that muffled tunnel. The clanging of the main hall¡¯s bells flooded the tunnel, drowning out the screams. The chime was only five notes, but after the final strike, the tone reverberated through the tunnel for some time.


    ¡°What was that?¡± Kaitlyn asked, looking at the two paladins. Just barely she could see that Sam was frightened and Shiner was excited.


    ¡°An Inquisition,¡± they both answered.

 The Tides Mistress Scene VI

    ¡°Sister, I¡¯m going to be executed, not married away. And even if I were, you¡¯d be the last person I would want to spend my bachelorette morning with,¡± Zora snarled. She was kneeling, hands behind her back, and bound with warded cloth. Warded prisoner garbs hung loosely over her lithe frame. A temporary wooden stage had been installed overnight to serve Zora¡¯s execution, and the sun was beating mercilessly on it.


    ¡°I would much rather be in the sanctuary, to be honest,¡± Maribel responded staley. ¡°As dull as those executioners¡¯ prayers are, anything is better than sitting here with you.¡±


    Zora guffawed. ¡°I¡¯m going to miss you, Sister. So full of sass. They¡¯re really getting their money¡¯s worth for pulling you down here, aren¡¯t they?¡±


    ¡°This is how it works,¡± Maribel shrugged. ¡°They call for an interrogator, then they get one. Suddenly, my job description includes babysitting.¡±


    ¡°Okay, joke time¡¯s over,¡± Zora snorted. ¡°I¡¯m a dead woman, remember? Show some respect.¡±


    ¡°Sorry,¡± Maribel said, frowning. She adjusted her habit and sat down beside the pirate captain. ¡°So, this is-¡±


    ¡°Your last chance to come clean with any information. Blah blah blah blah.¡±


    ¡°Well, that takes care of that,¡± Maribel sighed.


    ¡°Sorry, Sister, but the church wants my head smashed in this early? They gotta pay the price. The treasure trove of information on how I seduced a god and where I hid all those countless coins and corpses is going with me.¡±


    ¡°So, just for the record, you would have spoken more had we had more time? I can put that in my report and the Justicar will read it.¡±


    ¡°And do what? Laugh at it?¡±


    ¡°Well, bloodthirsty Justicars do not often get to keep their gavels. I just want him to realize that he made a mistake trading pomp for humanity.¡±


    ¡°Well, maybe I¡¯d tell you a bit about the treasures. And the boats. Nothing about Tidus, though. That¡¯s for me and him!¡± Zora said with a wink. She would swear that the sun got hotter at that remark.


    ¡°You know,¡± Zora began. ¡°In all the stories, executions happen on cloudy days. Shame it¡¯s so sunny. I was hoping the world and weather would feel the way I do.¡±


    Maribel looked down, not sure what to say.


    ¡°What do you think is going to happen?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°After you all kill me.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± Maribel noticed there was nothing too accusatory in what she had said, but she felt a pang of guilt. If the priestess had learned anything from the pirate, it was that she was genuine. ¡°Well, I¡¯m sure the High Council up north is eager to hear you¡¯ve passed. After that, the Coastal Dispatch will probably get underway to take care of your ships on the sea with that weapon of theirs. Then they will do victory port calls, get trashed, and vault the Justicar to fame as the man who killed the Sea Witch.¡±


    ¡°Well damn, girl,¡± Zora groaned. ¡°I was hoping for something cheerier. Maybe you¡¯d all say a prayer for my soul or something. Is that something you church types do?¡±


    ¡°Maybe for Chael to take pity on you,¡± Maribel shrugged.


    ¡°You think he¡¯s real, huh?¡±


    ¡°No reason to not, I suppose. After all, I use magic based on my faith in a god whose avatar has not walked in generations.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not a bad point,¡± the pirate said. ¡°You know, I heard he eats your soul and shits you out where you get buried.¡±


    Maribel rolled her eyes at the remark, prompting Zora¡¯s laughter. With a clank, the gates to the courtyard opened and ones and twos of paladins and priests began to file in. They milled around, chatting with one another. They worked hard to avoid looking at the prisoner.


    After the first handfuls of clergy, civilians began to file in. Port and dock workers, mariners, merchants who had lost livelihood to the pirate¡¯s attacks were invited to see her lose her life. They sat in the benches set throughout the courtyard and stared relentlessly at the prisoner.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    Maribel watched Zora stare back and could feel the air drying out around her. ¡°Don¡¯t do it. Those shackles will react.¡±


    ¡°I know, sister.¡± Zora took a deep breath, and the humidity returned. It was unseasonably heavy. ¡°I just want to get this damned thing over with.¡±


    ¡°Soon,¡± Maribel said softly.


    The benches continued to fill and the paladins and priests moved into formations at the foot of the stage, leaving a large walkway through the center. At the end of that walkway, beneath the courtyard¡¯s largest arched entrance, the Mother Superior, High Sergeant Boldbounty were standing on either side of the Justicar. And there behind them, in that stupid and ugly cloak, Cayd was making eye contact from across the courtyard.


    A heavy dark cloud cast a thick shadow on the courtyard as it rolled in front of the sun.


    A choir on the wall around the courtyard began to sing, their voices carrying over the audience. The song was a major-key chorale called ¡°Justice.¡± The Justicar¡¯s footfalls matched the slow beat of the song and the Mother Superior and High Sergeant were in step behind him. As the march started, Cayd remained under the shadows of the archway. Just like him.


    Zora smiled villainously as another cloud rolled past. ¡°Sing faster, bastards!¡± she shouted to the wall. Maribel, half expecting that sort of outburst, barely reacted. The audience, though, gasped and muttered to one another.


    The choir continued through the heckle.


    The Justicar closed his eyes and held his head higher, aloof, as he continued his march to the stage. The song brought the three clergy leaders to the bottom of the stairs leading to the stage where they stopped and allowed the song to finish.


    The choir brought their chorale to the end with a long and drawn plagal cadence. The entire audience joined in the amen being sung and allowed the echoes of their voices to rumble through the courtyard.


    It was joined by some other rumbling. The distant roll of thunder.


    ¡°Let¡¯s get this over with so your final moments will be sunny, eh?¡± the Justicar said quietly, so as not to disturb the audience.


    ¡°Don¡¯t want your fancy lunch getting cold, either!¡± Zora responded loudly. The audience groaned at her disrespect.


    The Justicar bit his tongue, then looked up to Maribel. ¡°My dear Sister. I have come before you this morning to relieve you of your charge. You have borne the weight of this woman¡¯s crimes as her personal guard before execution of her punishments and you are now no longer chained to this duty.¡±


    ¡°Justicar, I appreciate your mercy on me, and beg you to show it to the prisoner as well.¡± It was during Maribel¡¯s response that Zora realized the two were reciting some inane script. No one in this room wanted mercy on Captain Zora.


    The Mother Superior handed the Justicar a gold colored envelope as Maribel bowed deeply. The High Sergeant and Mother Superior climbed the stairs to stand on either side of her in a semi-circle behind Zora. The Justicar cleared his throat and turned around, opening the envelope.


    ¡°Brothers and Sisters of Gessel¡¯s societies, hear now the crimes for which this prisoner is being brought to this courtyard today.¡± The entire courtyard was now darkened by overcast skies.


    Zora¡¯s breathing went from natural to rhythmic as the Justicar began rambling off the long list of accused crimes. She was controlling her breath. Maribel was about to call Boldbounty¡¯s attention to it when she felt a drop on her head. It was a fat, cold droplet that splashed across her.


    Looking up, Maribel could see some of the audience members looking skyward at the clouds, which seemed to just grow thicker.


    The Justicar continued as Maribel noticed again the sudden change to the air around her. A strange smell filled her nostrils. Suddenly, something had a hold of her. High Sergeant Boldbounty had suddenly moved to embrace both the Mother Superior and Maribel, surrounding the three of them with a thick, golden barrier.


    The crash of thunder was instantaneous and deafening as the lightning struck immediately beside them. The Justicar was knocked flat by the shock to the air and the sheer volume of the thunderclap. Maribel was completely blinded by the point-blank lightning flash, but when her vision began to return, she could make out Zora, standing tall. The chain that connected her shackles were glowing the red of molten metal.


    Maribel could not hear the audience¡¯s shrieks of surprise, but the ringing in her ears began to calm and was replaced by some other deafening sound. The sky above had released the entirety of its contents. An opaque sheet of rainwater was spilling down on the courtyard, filling the small area completely.


    The three beneath Boldbounty¡¯s barrier were completely dry, but Maribel could see the water beginning to rise. Silhouettes of the audience scrambling could just barely be seen through the deluge.


    Then, as suddenly as it began, it stopped.


    ¡°Dreamer,¡± Mother Superior said in a hushed tone as Boldbounty released her. The audience had spilled all around the courtyard. Many people were wading toward exits while others were pulling their neighbors from the water that was at least waist deep on most of the onlookers. The drains in the base of the courtyard that had been plugged to prevent more insults from Tidus refused to let any of the precipitation leave the space.


    The Justicar, weighed down by his armor, was struggling to keep his head above the sloshing rainwater as Zora walked to the edge of the stage, laughing.


    ¡°Dammit!¡± Boldbounty cried as Zora¡¯s laugh was joined by another¡¯s. The laughter was as loud as the thunder from the sudden storm. It roared through the courtyard, bouncing off the walls, and driving the floodwater to slosh throughout the area.


    The water was becoming most agitated in the dead center of the courtyard. It surged and whipped into a massive cyclone that roared skyward. Once level with the courtyard¡¯s surrounding walls, the cyclone exploded.


    Tidus, the Laughing Buccaneer was hovering over the waters, his light blue aura a stark contrast against the wet stone and cloudy sky. ¡°Release the woman I love!¡± he roared heroically.

 Winters Daughter Scene IV

    Ymir and Petra lead their small attack team toward the looming silhouette of Bridgefort. What was once a sanctuary had become foreboding, but with Ymir alongside the cluster of families and refugees, hope had returned. Not even the low trumpeting of scout horns from the fort¡¯s walls slowed their courageous march.


    ¡°Prepare, daughter,¡± Ymir growled to Petra. ¡°Your friend said they had archers, remember?¡±


    ¡°I remember, father,¡± the young goddess replied, stepping ahead of the others, pulling her twin hatchets from her hips.


    ¡°Do not tempt them!¡±


    ¡°Father!¡± Petra said over her shoulder. ¡°I know what I am doing!¡± There was a smattering of distant sounds. Clacks and twangs from the castle wall. Against the glow of the rising sun, Petra tried to make out any shapes, and just barely noticed flashes of reflected light.


    ¡°Petra!¡± Ymir roared.


    Petra bent at the waist and, using the flat side of the axes, flicked snow into the air. As the powder went skyward, it seemed to grow in volume until it became a dense wall. There were small puff sounds as the arrows and spears slung from the walls of Bridgefort struck Petra¡¯s defensive wall.


    ¡°What father!?¡± Petra roared back.


    ¡°I apologize. That was very good.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Petra said with a nod as the wall of snow burst, the arrows and spears tumbling down amongst the dancing snowflakes.


    ¡°You should have told me what you were planning.¡±


    ¡°Why is that? So you could be riddled with arrows while I explained?¡±


    Ymir groaned and began to lead the group forward again. As he passed his daughter, he shook his head. And for some reason, the light inside the gods shined brighter. Petra had lost her mortality too long ago to understand why.


    ¡°The siege begins!¡± Ymir cried as he hefted his felled tree battering ram from off his back. The door was only fifty or so paces ahead, and Petra could now see the heads of the ranged guards atop the fort¡¯s walls. Another volley would be coming.


    And so she dashed forward, again slinging a wall of snow and ice in front of their makeshift invasion force to catch the wave of spears and arrows once more.


    ¡°Prepare brothers and sisters!¡± Ymir commanded. ¡°When the wall clears, we will charge!¡±


    The barbarians howled in response and Petra smiled wildly before crying out herself. She allowed the snow-wall to fall. To her horror, though, a stray spear was still whizzing down from the top of the fortress and its point was barreling down on the group¡¯s mortal members.


    Ymir¡¯s shout began with pain but turned to laughter. In a blur, despite the massive weight of the tree trunk in his hands, he put himself between the spear and mortals. The weapon burrowed into his right shoulder, but there was no sign of blood. His laughter was joined by grateful battle cries, and the team broke into a sprint.


    ¡°Petra, help me get us through before they can fire again.¡±


    ¡°Yes father!¡± Petra lifted her right hatchet, squinting to guide her aim, before throwing it at the door. It ripped through the cold air, head over handle, before burrowing deep in the planks. Instantly, the cracking sound of spreading ice rang out. White frost spread out from the blade across the wooden door.


    Ymir roared again as he readied his battering ram. He skidded to a halt before the door, but allowed the momentum to sling the ram head forward. The flat, iron capped head of the ram struck the frozen wood and the door exploded. Shards of ice blended with splinters and bent metal bands that clattered across the stone floor inside the fortress.


    The slavers that had been shoring the inside of the fortress gate were scattered as well. Some were luckier than others, simply being thrown backward as opposed to being gored by splinters of ice and wood, or smashed beneath falling planks. But their luck ran out as Ymir and Petra¡¯s barbarians rushed in, delivering the coup de grace.


    As Ymir watched with pride, his face twisted with confusion. ¡°Petra, look in their hands. They disrespect my friendship with Gessel.¡± The frozen waste slavers, warriors normally wielding spears, axes, and knives were equipped with war hammers, swords, shields, and mismatched armor in the silver, gold, and white color schemes of the Church of the Will.


    ¡°Be careful, friends,¡± Petra warned. ¡°Our enemies are better equipped than we would expect. They are geared for war, not for the Wastes!¡±


    The group pushed further into the fortress as Ymir threw the battering ram to the floor. A side corridor rang out with the sounds of approaching slavers as the giant god ripped his coat off of his shoulders. On his back was a huge, double headed battle axe.


    Petra stopped the attackers when she heard her father¡¯s barks. They looked back to see him surrounded by five slavers armed with paladin equipment. ¡°Father!¡±


    Ymir paid no mind to her. Instead he leapt backward gracefully despite his immense size, swinging the battleaxe as he did. The screams of the slavers filled the fortress as five human-sized spikes of ice leapt from the stone floor, firing upward at a light angle and piercing the armor and flesh of each of the slavers. Their screams moved from shock to pain in an instant before going silent a moment later.


    ¡°Worry not!¡± Ymir called ahead. ¡°Remember who taught you, my love. These slavers are lead by their oracle. Find her and we can end this affront to my treaty and her crimes against the children.¡±


    ¡°Yes father!¡± Petra looked to her mortal partners. ¡°Let¡¯s hurry. Our families are waiting.¡±


    The team moved forward, clashing with groups of slavers who hid behind walls or in side rooms. Petra lead the team down halls and into random chambers, not quite knowing where she was headed. She only knew that the more defenders she found, the closer they were to their oracle.


    Finally, they arrived at the large hall that lead out to the titular bridge, the single point of easy access to Talnor from the frozen wastes. In that hall, twenty slavers were waiting for their arrival.


    ¡°Our destiny will not be taken!¡± one screamed, prompting a smattering of battle cries from the others. Amongst the twenty was a combination of armor and weaponry both of slaver make, and from the Church of the Will.


    As Petra tried to study the group, a fluttering cloth in the corner caught her eye.


    ¡°Winter¡¯s Daughter,¡± one of her allies called. ¡°That room! Could that be where they hide the witch?¡±


    ¡°Let''s find out,¡± Petra offered as she readied her blades. The slavers charged and the barbarians charged to meet them. Blades clashed with shields as the sides met, but the barbarians had the strength of an avatar on their side.


    Petra, in response to the proximity of her allies, used her powers carefully, freezing the points of impact for her axes to make every swing that much more lethal. A harsh, frosted exhale would render an enemy¡¯s armor brittle. A sheet of ice beneath her boots allowed her to slide with practiced agility from one target to the next.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    But the slavers had the benefit of numbers. Corridors that splintered off of the hall rang out with approaching defenders. And when one of her barbarians screamed in pain, Petra looked to see the mistake she had made.


    A balcony she had not noticed before wreathed the hall. And now, it seemed the archers and spearmen from the wall had populated the balcony and were taking aim at her barbarians.


    Petra¡¯s rage began to boil up, at herself and at the slavers, as she watched them prepare their next volley. And then, as he had so many times before, her father came to the rescue.


    A wall of rime surged around the entire balcony, shredding the planks and sending the slavers tumbling down. The cacophony was deafening, but the surge of faith warming her core was enough of a response.


    ¡°Petra, no more wasting time! Find the oracle!¡± Ymir shouted from a doorway above.


    ¡°Go, Winter¡¯s Daughter. We will take care of this!¡± a barbarian urged.


    Petra paused and saw the blowing cloth at the side of the room. She noticed the glow of a fire inside the room. She nodded, and hurried to the doorway.


    Lightly, she pushed aside the cloth, expecting an attack from whoever this oracle would be. But none came.


    At the other end of the small room was a massive furnace. Huge, iron pipes ran from it and into the ceiling. Presumably a heating system for the fortress. But the grated door to the furnace was wide open, though there was no fuel to be seen.


    To the left of the furnace was a table, transformed into an altar by means of burning candles and a crimson tablecloth. As Petra¡¯s eyes focused on what was resting on the table, her rage bloomed.


    An adult body, naked and pale, lay with its eyes closed. An elderly woman, bundled in thick clothes hunched over the corpse. Every inch of her was drenched in accessories of gold, jewels, or crafted bones and teeth of beasts that roamed with wastes.


    ¡°Welcome, Ymirstottir,¡± the oracle said sadly. ¡°Do not mind me working.¡± As she said this, she looped her frail hands beneath the body and hefted it, with effort, from the table. Petra watched, her eyes beginning to mist up, as the oracle walked the corpse to the furnace door and let it tumble in. There was a burst of heat in the room as the flames embraced their new fuel. Petra looked away, but noticed a pile of empty shackles on the floor and felt she was about to vomit.


    ¡°What have you done?¡±


    ¡°The sun¡¯s rise means an end to winter. And an end to us, it seems,¡± the oracle responded. ¡°Worry not. These were our own. You reclaimed all of your people.¡±


    ¡°That is not better,¡± Petra growled.


    ¡°And why not? You spill the blood of our mature on the stones of these treated halls. At least I have the decency to offer ceremony to these final moments.¡±


    ¡°Why are you doing this? Why didn¡¯t you stay in your mountains and freeze? Why did you kill the paladins here?¡± Petra¡¯s fury was growing with each breath she took that was tinged with the scent of burning corpses.


    ¡°Kill them? They were gone when we arrived here. A gift from The Throne.¡± The oracle said, waving dismissively. She eyed Petra, then grinned. ¡°What would it hurt to tell you the ¡®why?¡¯ We are to be eliminated, it seems. I was given a grand vision, Ymirstottir. And not just some deprived hallucination in the mountain fog. A true vision of things to come. A gift from the Dreamweaver.¡±


    ¡°Why would he give you a vision?¡±


    ¡°To prepare for the coming fire. The Dreamweaver is seeking to save as many as he can. A shame we failed, even with his help.¡±


    ¡°That is impossible. On what authority does he choose who to save?¡±


    ¡°On what authority do you drive me to burn my people?¡± The oracle stared at Petra¡¯s eyes. Hatred, sorrow, and despair had consumed the old woman.


    Overcome with guilt and confusion, Petra began to cry. ¡°Why are you doing this?¡±


    ¡°The same reason you are. To survive. Now, I¡¯m done talking to you, you frozen brat. The poison is taking me. Likely starting to take those outside as well. If you truly want to see what is in store for you and your barbarians, take my gift.¡± The oracle reached down her coat and withdrew a massive locket. She whispered something into it and the locket opened to reveal a large glowing pearl. ¡°Take it like you took everything else. Take it so I may finally depart this wicked place.¡±


    Petra was conflicted for more than one reason. But if she saw the vision, maybe she would better understand the slavers¡¯ campaign. Maybe she would understand what spurred it. Regardless, her tribe was safe now. Her contract was over and her avatar would fail soon. There was no harm in empathy.


    The goddess approached the oracle slowly and held out her open hand. The oracle turned the locket and dumped the pearl into Petra¡¯s hand and there was a surge of bright light.


    When Petra¡¯s vision came back, the whole room was lit with an otherworldly and foreboding red. The sound of metal clanging was coming from the hall outside. Petra looked around the room quickly. The oracle was gone, as were the shackles. The furnace was rusted and in harsh disrepair. Slowly, she stepped out into the fort.


    The massive door leading to the bridge was completely destroyed. Only shards of planks hung on the mighty hinges. The metal sound was from an army, in massive formation, that filled the room to bursting. With a shout, the army broke into a charge down the bridge.


    Petra looked down the bridge to see the shape of a woman walking to meet the army, but her whole body was magma. The bricks beneath her feet were glowing, molten puddles. As the army charged, she waved her hand. A hot gale stole Petra¡¯s breath. The entire army was lifted from the bridge and thrown into the chasm.


    The woman, satisfied, knelt down and tore a massive boulder from the bridge, and heaved it at the fortress. Petra followed the boulder as it flew and gasped when something caught it. It took her a moment to divine the shape, but when she realized she was looking at a hand made out of tree trunks, vines, and other plant matter, she began searching for its source.


    The base of the arm-like tree was bursting clear from the floor of the fortress where the army had just been standing. Now, there were two stags, their antlers clattering as they fought. One was much larger than the other, its rack of antlers so large and full she could not count the points. The other was much smaller, much lighter in color, and with frightfully human eyes. The smaller deer paused and let out a whistle.


    Pebbles began falling to the ground, and Petra looked up to see the tree-arm bringing the boulder down toward her and the fighting stags. The goddess began running for the bridge, her only point of egress.


    But then she heard a new sound. A sound she could only describe as a crowd screaming in pain and horror. A colossus of flesh rose up from the chasm beneath the bridge. Petra could see from the pieces of armor and weaponry that this golem was made of the army the woman had thrown from the bridge.


    Her mind struggled to make sense of the shape. She searched for a face, but there were too many. She looked for arms or legs, but even those were too numerous to be natural. It moaned with a hundred voices and screamed with a hundred others then came to begin its attack.


    The thunder clap shocked Petra more than the flash of light as the blue forks of lightning surged right past her head. She whipped around to see another woman standing behind her, but this one was a constantly vibrating mass of clouds, water, and lightning. Furious electric eyes were staring at the colossus.


    With the clack of hooves, the younger stag ran to join Petra and the storm-woman on the bridge. Petra saw one of its antlers was shining with blood. When she looked back to the fortress, the larger stag was leaning to one side, sinister and staring with a bloody gash in his shoulder.


    Another gust of hot wind called Petra¡¯s attention back to the woman on fire. She braced herself for the gale, waiting to be blown into the arms of the mess of corpses, but another, gentler warmth interrupted it.


    Golden light fell on Petra, the storm-woman, and the stag, protecting them as the hot wind raged. An angel came down to land beside Petra, his body just a friendly golden light. But in the midst of all of the light, Petra could see a smile.


    A heavy hand fell on her shoulder.


    ¡°Petra,¡± her father said. ¡°The gods are dead, Petra. Divinity is over.¡±


    The angel surged brighter and disappeared. The storm-woman wisped away in the wind. The stag galloped off back into the fortress.


    ¡°The gods are dead, Petra.¡±


    Petra turned to look at her father and screamed. Ymir was looking at her through two deep, bloody holes. A gash in his torso was spilling blood and organs onto the bridge, and a slit in his throat was still slowly oozing.


    ¡°Divinity is over Petra. The gods are dead.¡± He repeated those words again and again as Petra stared with wide eyes. And behind him, where the giant stag had been, was a pile of bodies. Each was a god Petra recognized by name. Standing at the base and facing the pile was a man whose salient feature was his profound normalcy. A wrinkled forehead. A receding hairline. The man turned to look at Petra, and there was a distant explosion, the sound so loud the bridge trembled. And slowly, but steadily, came a heat beyond anything Petra had experienced. A wall of fire filled her entire field of vision.


    Petra took a deep breath and turned to ash.


    ¡°Petra! The slavers are dying! They had been poisoned! The battle is over!¡± Ymir shouted to his daughter.


    Petra looked around, confused. She was on the bridge, but the early spring morning sky was back to its normal color, and the bridge was back to normal.


    There was no sign of the melted woman. The stags were gone. And so was the golem of flesh.


    ¡°What did you just see?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, father,¡± Petra said softly. ¡°I think my contract is not over, though.¡±


    Ymir chortled. ¡°I told you it was a silly contract to make, dear.¡±

 The Inquisition

    Jane Estin felt ill. The Inquisitors¡¯ Chime was not something she had hoped to hear the night she was being taken out to dinner by her bridesmaids. She sat, head in hand, spinning her glass of honey mead. Finally, she began to stand.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong, Jane?¡±


    ¡°Sorry, I¡¯m just kind of worried.¡±


    ¡°Why? The inquisitors will handle it,¡± the maid of honor said with a smile.


    ¡°I mean,¡± Jane began, leaning back. ¡°With the riots, the security checks, all of it. And then my brother-¡±


    ¡°Bah!¡± the woman replied. ¡°Your brother isn¡¯t even an Inquisitor! He¡¯ll be okay.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± Jane said, souring. She grabbed the glass and threw back the last of the mead. ¡°This is my party anyway. I get to do what I want.¡± She walked from the table toward the door of the restaurant. The owner was peering with concern through the large bay window onto the main street of The Throne¡¯s entryway. People were running and screaming from the city¡¯s main entrance.


    ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡± Jane asked.


    ¡°Something at the gate. Don¡¯t know.¡±


    Jane moved to the restaurant¡¯s door and opened it slowly to peer outside. She looked down toward the city gates and yelped. Some massive, hunchbacked beast was trampling the stampede of people, swinging around and kicking to send bodies flying.


    ¡°Miss!¡± the shout came suddenly from right in front of Jane. A man fell toward her. ¡°Can I come in!?¡± he called in a panic.


    Jane lead the man in where he collapsed to the floor. She was shocked to see his left arm, from shoulder to elbow, was stone. ¡°What happened?¡±


    The man tried to answer, but began coughing deeply into his sleeve. He drew the sleeve back to reveal mucus covered stones.


    ¡°Oh Dreamer,¡± Jane¡¯s maid of honor said, appearing suddenly behind her. ¡°He breathed it. There¡¯s a catoblepas outside? How?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. It¡¯s in the city. There¡¯s men with knives too,¡± the man strained to explain. ¡°There¡¯s a lot of hurt people out there. The monster would turn their feet to stone and they¡¯d get trampled.¡±


    ¡°Is he going to be okay?¡± Jane asked.


    ¡°Depends on how much he breathed. He needs water though.¡±


    Jane turned to look at the restaurant¡¯s owner. ¡°Do you mind if we let the injured people rest here?¡±


    ¡°Not at all,¡± the owner responded.


    ¡°Help him please, Minnie,¡± Jane said as she moved back to the door. She opened the door and ran out into the chaos to help.


    Just as his sister, Sam was running toward the danger. He, Shiner, and Kaitlyn emerged from the tunnel where they made a hard left against the flow of the stampede. The paladins were holding their shields high overhead, using magic to give them a golden glow that urged the sprinting escapees to yield to the three.


    As the group got closer to the gate, the stampede¡¯s volume lessened until they got a clear view of just what was inspiring so much fear. The massive, bovine creature was immediately chasing two civilians and the paladin trying to defend them. But the beast shuddered as it exhaled a cloud of thick, grey smoke over the three. When the cloud cleared, three statues were all that remained.


    ¡°Does your husband have a catoblepas?¡± Sam shouted to Kait as the three came to a stop.


    ¡°No,¡± she replied, still searching the crowds nearby.


    ¡°Well, a problem¡¯s a problem,¡± Shiner said with a nod. ¡°The Inquisition isn¡¯t here yet, Sammy. Will you be my Confidant?¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    Kait looked at the two. ¡°What? But we have to find Matthew!¡±


    ¡°People are dying, Kaitlyn,¡± Sam replied. ¡°We¡¯re going to engage this thing. Are you sure you can not use your powers?¡±


    Kaitlyn did not answer him. She just looked to the floor.


    ¡°Okay, well, just stay safe.¡± Sam put a hand on Shiner¡¯s shoulder and the two bowed their heads. ¡°Dreamer, your sanctuary is under assault today. While we understand it is not our mission to be here, it is your Will that we walk this hall today. Please, empower us to defend your name.¡±


    The two young men stretched out , feeling the prayer¡¯s rejuvenating magics flood them. They nodded to one another, and charged toward the creature.


    Kaitlyn watched the two paladins run against the catoblepas. Not wanting to see them get hurt, she looked back to the escaping crowds, now relegated to the edges of the hall. Amidst the escaping crowds, she saw a man that was two-heads taller than the rest, with broad shoulders and a sad face.


    ¡°Benji,¡± she said softly. As she became more confident she had spotted her former friend, she began to call his name louder. Looking over her shoulder to see Sam and Shiner begin to fight the monster, she took a deep breath and ran after Benji.


    Matthew seemed to be enjoying himself in the stampede. His right arm was held out in front of him, the skin turned a harsh red from using the Halcyon Band. Anyone unable to stay more than an arm¡¯s length away from Matthew¡¯s hand would hear an unnatural pop! And nothing more.


    ¡°Matt, we need to stop,¡± Benji hissed.


    ¡°Just keep moving, Benji. If we stop, we¡¯re dead,¡± Matt called back.


    But Benji was already certain they had been too loud on their entry. The plan was doomed to fail.


    Shiner and Sam threw their shields, one after another. Despite Shiner¡¯s being a larger kite shield of a Vanguard, it spun like a disc just ahead of Sam¡¯s buckler and smashed into the side of the distracted catoblepas. The beast reeled at the twin strikes and swung his horned head in the direction of the paladins.


    The two held their shield arms high, side by side as the projectiles returned home.


    The creature eyed its newest targets when Sam noticed something strange. It was missing huge swathes of flesh. Muscle and bone were exposed all across its heaving torso. Thick, clotting blood sloughed onto the bricks beneath it with every exhale. A faint light shone through the beast¡¯s festering wounds.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    ¡°Dreamer,¡± Sam muttered.


    ¡°Yeah, he¡¯s an ugly one, eh?¡± Shiner asked, pulling Sam back to focus. ¡°Give me a lift, Sammy.¡±


    ¡°Right, ready,¡± Sam responded, shuffling forward toward the creature. The catoblepas lowered its horned head and snorted, stamping its front hooves threateningly. Sam turned to look at Shiner and knelt. Dreamer, use me now to support my brother in your Will to defend your Sanctuary from this monster.


    Shiner galloped, then broke into a sprint. His armor clanked loudly as the paladin¡¯s body erupted in golden light. Shiner leapt high and Sam watched his leading foot carefully. Then came the surge of strength. Shiner¡¯s boot landed flat on Sam¡¯s buckler, and he pushed upward with all of his magic-empowered strength.


    Shiner whooped as he sailed skyward, three times over the height of the catoblepas. The creature paid no mind to the flying knight, and instead broke into a charge in Sam¡¯s direction.


    Standing his ground, Sam watched as Shiner, enveloped in gold, meteored downward on the charging beast. The brickwork buckled under Shiner¡¯s warhammer. The beast cried out and fell, but the aim was not as perfect as the pair had hoped.


    Picking himself out of the rubble, Shiner saw he had obliterated one of the creature¡¯s back legs, but for some reason it was not enough. It continued charging, it¡¯s balance off. But the weight and momentum were still lethal for Sam.


    ¡°Sam! Look out!¡±


    Sam was ready. He adjusted the grip on his hammer and thought back to  his Vanguard training. About working the weight of a hefty attacker and using the enemies rage against them. Dreamer, please let me not have gotten rusty in my lack of practice, Sam prayed on a thin line between confidence and arrogance.


    Only three arms length separated Sam from the points of the monster¡¯s horns, and he dove, tucking into a shallow roll. The timing and angle of his dive were immaculate. He came out of the roll with his warhammer-wielding hand just off the side of the beast¡¯s head. A split second passed and Sam tore his hammer up into the front-left shoulder of the catoblepas. Flesh ripped and bone splintered with no effort and the creature roared.


    Shiner screamed with glee as the creature tried to break its sprint despite having two shattered limbs. Its head turned down on the weight of its horns, and when they met the bricks, the snapping of the beast¡¯s neck rang out. And still its body tumbled on toward a storefront.


    Sam saw activity just under the door. A woman was kneeling over a sitting man. Neither were paying any mind to the crashing bovine. ¡°Move!¡± he called out to them, and nearly choked when his older sister turned her head to look at him.


    Jane had seen the two paladins fighting the catoblepas, but trusted them to handle it. The man at the door was a victim of the stabbing.


    ¡°The man looked dead. He just had a bloody hole for an eye,¡± the wounded man muttered, his eyes looking through Jane. He was in shock.


    ¡°I need to move you,¡± she said. But he kept repeating the same two sentences. Then, a crack rangout just outside the storefront.


    ¡°Move!¡± the shout came suddenly. Jane, somewhere between panicked and frustrated with the bleeding man, turned her head to see the catoblepas rocketing toward her. And behind it was her brother looking exhausted and battered.


    She tried to move. She wanted to. But she could not think past the fact that her brother was standing there, thick black blood globbing off of his warhammer. This creature was coming closer and closer, and she was sickened by the open wounds all across the monster, all oozing and all glowing.


    Jane was not going anywhere.


    A flash of gold light came from the second paladin when he threw his hammer. It shot clear through the beast¡¯s torso, sending a spatter of black blood down the street. The front half skidded to a stop just in front of Jane, and she breathed a sigh of relief.


    But the beast groaned. It¡¯s head rolled up to look at her. Its eyes, all milky and pained, could not focus on the woman, but it was looking to kill, so it exhaled.


    Sam ran to his sister as she choked on the dusty fog. He saw the catoblepas still living, against all laws of life and nature. The bright light within it looked to be just below the surface of the ground flesh. And Sam struck what seemed to be the source of the light with all of his fury. The beast finally died.


    ¡°Jane, are you okay!?¡±


    His sister had scales of stone across her face, and her coughs were gravelly. The man on the ground beside her had gone unconscious with small scales across his body.


    ¡°Can you speak?¡±


    ¡°Sam,¡± Jane sputtered, coughing up a small stone. ¡°Sam, I-¡±


    ¡°Sammy! Where¡¯d Kaitlyn go?¡± Shiner asked.


    Sam wanted to wave him off, but remembered suddenly why he was at The Throne in the first place. There was a distant crash and he looked around for his shaman friend. She was nowhere to be seen.


    ¡°Go find her Sam,¡± Shiner urged. ¡°I¡¯ll stay with these two. Not like that woman would listen to me anyway, you know?¡±


    Sam looked to his sister again. She looked terrified, and it made Sam feel ill.


    ¡°Sam, go!¡± Shiner said. ¡°Seriously! Go find her before the Inquisition does!¡±


    Sam still could not move. His sister was trembling.


    ¡°Man, if the Inquisition finds her first, she¡¯s dead!¡±


    Sam groaned, rose, and broke into a run. Shiner was right. He had no idea where Kaitlyn had gone but he needed to find her.


    The Throne¡¯s gilded service elevators were for clergy use only. And while service infrastructure in other cities would be hidden away in alleys or behind facades, the service elevators of The Throne were gaudy, filigreed cylinders that went up, down, and sideways throughout all of the different districts and wings of the mountain metropolis. Rarely used and well guarded, they were usually harsh reminders of the difference between the life of the clergy and The Throne¡¯s poorer civilians.


    But the day Matthew Carpenter arrived with a stolen relic, the elevators took on a new meaning. Just moments after the final tone of the Inquisitors¡¯ Chime rang through the halls, between the golden wirework, the shape of the basket could be seen descending.


    When it arrived at the main floor, the wire doors slid open on their own accord to reveal the Fifth Inquisition. Led by Brother Abraham, the Fifth is the only Inquisition in the Talnor led by a priest. The operational status usually demands a more tactical mind. But Brother Abraham, tall and looming, with a crooked, beak-like nose had a mind for strategy. His focus, a golden rapier, spoke to that fact.


    The other two members stood to either side. One was a colossal Vanguard, Captain Flametongue. Named for his harsh, mountain region accent and his temper, Flametongue prided himself in his imposing custom armor. With a dragon-themed helmet and pauldrons designed like folded wings, he had the entire suit trimmed with bright orange and rubies set into the dragon¡¯s eyes on the helmet. He held in front of him a tower shield that covered him, shin to chin, and his weapon of choice was a flail with a weight stylized with the appearance of a fireball.


    Captain Starlight was significantly smaller than her two partners, but no less imposing. Confidence came off her in waves. She left behind her helmet in favor of a circlet with a jet stone set in its center that matched her jet black hair. She carried a Confidant¡¯s buckler and light warhammer, signalling her specialty as the Inquisitions supporting member. That is not to say, though, that she was less lethal than her brothers in arms. A cloak of black that twinkled with enchanted silver threads here and there throughout hung from her shoulders.


    As they stepped out together, the three looked down the main hall at the chaos of the stampede as it came toward them while also spilling down the alleyways.


    ¡°The man we are looking for is poor, downtrodden, and wearing the Halcyon Band,¡± Brother Abraham said.


    Starlight scoffed. ¡°Two out of three apply to this whole damned city.¡±


    ¡°What is the sentence?¡± Flametongue asked.


    ¡°He is a relic thief, Flametongue,¡± Starlight hissed.


    ¡°Our sister is right. He has desecrated a crypt. The High Council has sentenced the man to death. Along with any criminals who may use this situation to do something regrettable.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the word on collateral?¡±


    ¡°We do what must be done,¡± Brother Abraham said with a nod. Ahead, one of Zarraz¡¯s knife wielding soldiers emerged from the crowd chasing a young couple, slowing themselves down by holding hands.


    ¡°Can do, Brother,¡± Flametongue said. He took a deep breath, then roared. His body became a battering ram as some invisible force thrust the colossus at the undead attacker. But his titanic body flew without precision.


    The corpse with the knife exploded when the tower shield struck it, but so did the leg of the man who was unable to move fully out of the way. The young man and woman were thrown, unconscious to the ground, barely missing the lethal portion of the attack.


    ¡°So many are still in the street. Almost like the Chime means nothing nowadays,¡± Starlight said with a pitying shake of her head as she and Brother Abraham followed Flametongue into the chaos.

 An Execution

    Sputtering, and holding the iron gate with all his strength, Cayd felt a strange mix of emotions as the flood water tried to sweep him off his feet. He had imagined an event precisely like this. The prison had been designed to hamper a red magic user¡¯s ability to control the cathedral¡¯s stonework. But how do you ward the atmosphere?


    Maribel was a smart girl, but how could she have known that a pirate as talented at manipulating her emotions as Zora was slowly working the air around the city into a frenzy? The woman could snipe with the lightning she summoned. She was able to weaponize her fear. No wonder she was able to summon this downburst without so much as breaking a sweat without setting off the magic shackles. And continuing to taunt the Church the whole while.


    But Tidus appearing? Even Cayd was surprised by that. Something strange was at work here if a god was able to constitute his avatar in Gessel¡¯s sacrosanct.


    Zora stretched as she rose to standing. The lightning striking the shackles had been a risk. Her wrists were beginning to blister from the burns.


    ¡°Zora, are you okay?¡± Tidus asked, the concern tingling Zora¡¯s heart.


    ¡°Yeah, small price for freedom, right?¡±


    Zora¡¯s attention was caught by a sudden gasp at her feet. The Justicar was floundering at the stairs to the executioner¡¯s stage.


    ¡°How are we, Justicar?¡±


    ¡°You, you bitch!¡± he yelped. ¡°What have you done?¡±


    ¡°Oh, shove off,¡± she said with a wave. The water responded to her subtle command and swept the man underwater. ¡°Ass.¡±


    ¡°We need to leave,¡± Tidus urged as he hovered down to the stage. ¡°I was only given five minutes. Then Gessel will snitch.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Boldbounty¡¯s sudden inquiry surprised Zora.


    ¡°How¡¯d you all stay up here?¡± Zora ask incredulously. ¡°I mean, I¡¯m happy to see you not with a lung full, Maribel, but, a woman¡¯s gotta be free, you know?¡±


    ¡°Sorry,¡± Maribel said with a shake of her head. ¡°Not really feeling the feminine comradery after you tried to electrocute me.¡±


    ¡°What have you done with my cathedral!?¡± the Mother Superior wailed.


    Zora held her hands in her head. ¡°See? This is what I hate about you Church types! Drama! Just drama.¡± She turned to Tidus. ¡°Let¡¯s go, friend.¡±


    ¡°Captain Zora! Wait!¡±


    Zora¡¯s eyes widened with frustration.


    ¡°Who is that?¡± Tidus asked when he saw Cayd wading through the flushing water, soaked over his waist as the flood rushed from the courtyard.


    ¡°Just a very stupid man,¡± Zora grumbled. She raised her chin to shout to Cayd. ¡°You hear that? You are a stupid man. Let¡¯s go Tidus.¡±


    ¡°Laughing Buccaneer! You love this woman? Are you not taken?¡± Cayd asked and Zora roared.


    ¡°I want to leave!¡± she shrieked.


    ¡°I do as I please,¡± Tidus growled at Cayd. The waters roiled with his threatening tone. ¡°Why is it you presume your sense of morality applies to me? The god of the seas?¡±


    ¡°You are an ascendant, Tidus,¡± Cayd said with a shrug. ¡°Surely something of your mortality has survived? Though I suppose your love for mortals is stronger than your love for your wife?¡±


    Zora went wide eyed. ¡°You really are stupid!¡±


    ¡°What is Cayd doing?¡± Maribel asked in shock.


    Boldbounty was grinning. ¡°I knew I could trust this man!¡± he cheered.


    ¡°He¡¯s going to be killed,¡± the Mother Superior whispered.


    ¡°He doesn¡¯t need to win,¡± Boldbounty corrected. ¡°Just run out the clock.¡±


    ¡°You dare not speak those words again.¡± Tidus¡¯s presence changed utterly. The easygoing romantic had been replaced by an aggressive and frightful force. He stepped down the stairs into the water which moved to eagerly greet its master.


    The Justicar, struggling to keep his head above the waves in spite of the weight of his armor, was submerged again as the waters surged around Tidus¡¯s avatar. The torrent swept him into the air and carried him slowly and menacingly toward Cayd on a briny pillar.


    ¡°Do you think your wife would be pleased to know what you just said?¡±


    ¡°She does not rule me.¡± The volume of Tidus¡¯s voice was thunderous, the presence made so much more dramatic by how quietly and calmly he had said the words. ¡°You have trespassed against me, mortal.¡± Tidus raised his hand and the water responded, swirling and churning up around Cayd, spiraling around his body.


    ¡°Tidus, we don¡¯t have time for this.¡± Zora was looking skyward nervously.


    As the tendrils of water began to constrict Cayd, he worked a smile. ¡°So, Tidus, your wife doesn¡¯t rule you. What about the pirate?¡±


    The ocean god¡¯s face turned a shade more grim. He began to clench his fist and the tendrils tightened.


    ¡°Let him go!¡± Zora called. ¡°He¡¯s not worth it!¡±


    ¡°I refuse to be talked to like this,¡± Tidus snarled. ¡°This man will pay.¡±


    ¡°Tidus!¡± Zora was looking quickly from sky to god and back to sky. Her nerves were scrambling and the static was drawing the moisture out of the air around her. She was so nervous she did not feel Maribel loop the ribbon of golden light around her.


    The ribbon that emerged from the end of Maribel¡¯s scepter focus pulled tight, yanking Zora from the stairs. She tumbled backward onto the stage sending a shower of sparks across the stage as she screamed out.


    ¡°Damn your pride, Tidus!¡±


    The clouds above parted, releasing a dense shaft of sunlight on the courtyard. The light fell between Cayd and Tidus and every drop of water the sunlight touched retreated. Cayd, suddenly released, took a deep breath and smiled with pride at a very frightened Tidus.


    ¡°Very nice, Sister,¡± Boldbounty said, patting Maribel¡¯s shoulder.


    ¡°Kill her,¡± the Justicar growled as he clamoured up the stairs. ¡°Just kill her.¡±


    ¡°All due respect, Justicar,¡± Boldbounty said, nodding to the sunlight. ¡°I think this is out of our hands.¡±


    ¡°The woman you love?¡± The feminine voice was sultry and everywhere. With every syllable, the sunlight pulsed brighter.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    ¡°Damn,¡± Tidus muttered. ¡°Damn, Gessel. You just could not do me one favor.¡±


    ¡°The woman you love?¡± the woman repeated. Sparkling glints of light began to swirl within the column of sunlight faster and faster, growing closer together and more numerous with each rotation until they finally transformed into a large oval of white light. The floodwaters were quickly retreating now, so much faster than natural. The civilians and clergy that were unable to escape were left wet and frightened all across the courtyard.


    ¡°Look, this is-¡± Tidus whined.


    The oval flashed and left behind a lithe, stunning woman. She had porcelain skin and a long sleeved dress made out of an immaculate, thin white cloth. The woman was hovering level with Tidus and looking at the sea god in the eyes.


    ¡°A misunderstanding?¡± she offered.


    ¡°Solana,¡± Tidus said, looking down. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°Why do we do this over and over. And in a cathedral to Gessel? You think he would not tell me?¡±


    ¡°He said I had five minutes to save her.¡±


    ¡°Tidus,¡± Solana said, gently lifting the god¡¯s chin. ¡°You are a fool. Why do you thirst for mortal flesh?¡±


    ¡°Not now. Not in front of them.¡±


    Solana barked a laugh. ¡°Too proud to be disciplined in front of mortals but you will surely remove your trousers in front of one so long as her bosom is ample?¡±


    ¡°Solana,¡± Tidus pleaded. ¡°Why are you doing this?¡±


    Solana¡¯s eyes went wildly wide before shrinking to a thin glare. ¡°What? You really asked me that? I hope every single one of these mortals remembers that. I want your ignorance to become legendary.¡± Another hole in the clouds appeared casting Tidus in a shaft of sunlight. The god hung his head but did not move. ¡°Stay there, my love.¡±


    As Solana strolled through mid air toward the execution stage, the sunlight carved through the clouds above and the floodwater below, leaving a trail where Solana had passed. Zora began breathing faster as the goddess approached.


    ¡°Madame,¡± the Mother Superior called to her.


    ¡°Silence, Mother Superior,¡± Solana replied, not even offering the priestess the courtesy of eye contact. ¡°Your moment of opportunity has passed.¡±


    ¡°This is a criminal that has sinned against Gessel, though,¡± the Mother Superior responded.


    Solana¡¯s face flashed with fury. But she inhaled sharply, closing her eyes to allow for a quick, but superficial calm. ¡°Do the sins against me not matter?¡± she asked. ¡°This woman played my husband¡¯s wiles and turned him into a murderer.¡±


    ¡°Wasn¡¯t that hard.¡± Zora breaking her silence was like a sudden crash of thunder. And Solana responded in like.


    ¡°You bitch,¡± the sun goddess spat, her temper flaring, causing the sun to surge in intensity. ¡°You would not believe the deals I had to cut to be here. Just to punish you.¡±


    ¡°Do your worst, you leather skinned wench,¡± Zora chided with an excessive roll of her eyes.


    Maribel, still holding her scepter with the ribbon of light that was restraining Zora, was dumbfounded. She looked at Boldbounty to see the High Sergeant completely enraptured.


    ¡°High Sergeant,¡± she whispered. ¡°What is happening?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s amazing, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°What do we do?¡±


    ¡°All we can do, Sister,¡± the Mother Superior whimpered, her pride obviously wounded. ¡°Sit and watch the gods fight.¡± Maribel looked at Zora, sulking at the edge of the stage with the goddess of the sun looming over her. The god of seas standing, dejected in Solana¡¯s natural spotlight where she had left him. And just behind that was Cayd, not appearing smug, nor excited, and not even scared. He looked concerned.


    ¡°Release her, Sister,¡± Solana commanded. Maribel did as she was told, not waiting for a second issuance. The priestess was certain that the goddess had multiple methods of getting her way.


    The golden ribbon disappeared all at once. Maribel half-expected Zora to erupt. To leap to her feet and begin slinging lightning through the courtyard. But she did not. The pirate queen rose up, stretched her spine and rolled her wrists, and raised her head proudly to look Solana in the eye.


    Zora searched for something in those dark, murky eyes of the sun goddess. Something human. It was a bit ironic to think, but Zora was not expecting to come to terms with her death on the day of her execution.


    Why did Cayd have to get himself involved? If it weren¡¯t for him, Tidus and Zora would be back at the boat already. And yet he stood across the courtyard, his cloak still sopping wet, with worried eyes. And they were looking straight at her.


    That level of empathy and concern were nowhere to be found  in Solana¡¯s eyes. There was just rage, and somewhere deeper, heartache.


    ¡°There will be no appealing to my emotions, Zora.¡± Solana¡¯s reprimand was biting and sharp. Not in tone, but more so because she had guessed Zora¡¯s plan. ¡°I was a shaman when I still had blood in my veins.¡±


    Zora said nothing in reply. She was running out of escape routes.


    ¡°Is the silence a lack of faith in my word?¡± Solana asked. ¡°Why don¡¯t I share my feelings with you?¡± The sun goddess held a hand up to Zora¡¯s head.


    ¡°Solana, don¡¯t do this!¡± Tidus shouted from behind.


    The sorrow and fury washed over Zora. It was stunning. Suffocating. The depth of the goddess¡¯s frustration was not with Zora herself, but with the fact that Zora was simply the most recent. Tidus and Solana had loved each other profoundly as mortals, then ascended together. And despite them seemingly having only one another in the celestial realm, the eons had seemed to drive the two apart. Yet mortals still worship the couple and vaunt their heavenly marriage.


    And in those facts, Zora realized her fate was sealed. Exhausted by the emotional assault, Zora slumped to her knees.


    ¡°Stand up, pirate,¡± Solana snarled. ¡°What to do with you? Can¡¯t rightly kill you, can I?¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡± Zora asked, still on her knees.


    ¡°Because I respect the gods, that¡¯s why!¡± Solana¡¯s bellowing response startled the pirate. ¡°Gessel allowed me here to solve this problem!¡± she said, pointing at Tidus.  ¡°And I will not spill your blood in his sacrosanct.¡±


    Zora¡¯s heart actually sank at those words. Solana would not be letting her off at all. Death probably would have been a relief at this point. Whatever she had planned had been generations in the making.


    ¡°Just let us handle this according to our law,¡± the other Superior offered quietly.


    Solana took a deep breath through her small, pointed nose, then swung to look at the priestess. ¡°I told you your window is closed. You have failed Gessel this morning. You live with that embarrassment.¡±


    Her pride slapped once more, the Mother Superior shrunk back. And where one large personality shrunk, another inflated to replace her.


    ¡°Solana,¡± Cayd¡¯s voice cut the harsh silence. It was soft and deescalating. Even the whimpering Tidus hushed himself to hear Cayd out. ¡°Why not give her your mark?¡± he suggested, quietly, but confidently.


    Solana chuckled. ¡°What year is it? Last I checked, sir, the Heroic Age was dead and gone.¡±


    ¡°But just imagine,¡± Cayd began. ¡°The woman who trespassed against the goddess of the sun. Who drove the Laughing Buccaneer to, yet again, be unfaithful. Who defiled a holy site of Gessel. She would be doing deeds on your behalf! With a physical display of penance.¡±


    Solana turned to look at Zora, sizing her up with a sly smile. ¡°An interesting suggestion. A walking emblem of my righteous fury.¡±


    ¡°And your mercy,¡± Cayd added.


    Solana literally beamed at the suggestion. But then she frowned. ¡°But what would I have you do? Simply evangelize on my behalf? Kind of gaudy, no?¡±


    ¡°May I make a suggestion, Madame?¡± Cayd asked, bowing.


    Maribel saw Boldbounty go wide eyed and lean forward. She swung back to look at Cayd and the Goddess.


    ¡°Please, sir,¡± Solana said, acknowledging the bow with a tilt of the head.


    ¡°I am searching for someone. A dangerous man that threatens the entire land of Talnorel. My journey shall surely take me far across the continent. And far away from the sea. Send her with me.¡±


    Although the goddess¡¯s back was to Maribel, she could imagine the wry smile creeping across her face. With a stunning twirl of the breezy gown, the goddess spun and raised a hand. Another shaft of sunlight burst down onto where Zora was kneeling. She began slowly floating from the stage.


    ¡°Zora Dimitova,¡± Solana began. ¡°You are a cruel woman. But so am I. Your cruelty against me, my husband, and against the clergy of the Church of the Will and their god, Gessel, the Dreamer, shall be met. You shall carry the mark of this goddess.¡±


    Zora hissed in pain. Smoke wafted from her hands as Solana¡¯s symbol, a feminine silhouette in front of a stylized sun, was burned onto the backs of both.


    ¡°This mark shall be a symbol of your devotion to me. You have a duty now. You are at the whims of this man in his search for the dangerous one he seeks. And until his quest is resolved, you will bear the symbol. And so long as you wear it, you will not set foot on the sea, or even the beach, or you will die.


    But I am feeling gentle, since I am reunited with Tidus. Mother Superior will allow your crew safe harbor for one night. But when my sun rises in the morning, you will be barred from the domain of the Laughing Buccaneer.¡±


    When she finished her speech, Zora was set gently on the stage.


    Zora felt a tear roll down her face. She would miss her crew. She would miss her ship. But that creature wanted her. It would no longer be able to threaten them. The tear was one of melancholy relief.


    Solana spun and rushed to Tidus. ¡°Now, that¡¯s over. Your contract is voided. Zora is no longer in danger. And mine is complete. I feel much better now.¡±


    ¡°Glad,¡± Tidus grumbled.


    ¡°Before we go,¡± Solana cooed in Cayd¡¯s direction. ¡°What is your name? I would like to be able to call on the man who gave me such an obvious and delightful solution to my problem.¡±


    ¡°Cayd Zahid,¡± he responded with a grin.


    Solana¡¯s face fell. ¡°What did you say?¡±


    ¡°Zahid,¡± Cayd repeated.


    Solana¡¯s lips pursed tightly. ¡°Enjoy your curse, Mister Zahid.¡± With a flash of sunlight, the two gods were gone. Two twinkling gemstones were sitting on the damp brickwork of the courtyard where they had been. From the stage, Boldbounty began to guffaw.


    ¡°Amazing!¡±

 The Halcyon Band

    Matthew was high. He had honestly not felt this good in his entire life. The dream he had been having for the past months was vividly flooding to the foreground of his mind. Smashing those handfuls of magma into the body of that wicked fictitious banker had been the highlight of his evenings. Now that dream had come to life.


    Every human body that came into contact with his burning right hand morphed before his eyes into one of the myriad individuals that had looked down on him, spat on him, and held him back through his life.


    His murderous, lazy, gambling, drunken father showed up in the form of a cowardly paladin that had fallen down. Matthew melted his breastplate to his flesh.


    His mother, too meek and afraid to defend her own son? She had been a sweaty, portly woman he had seen fanning herself in the line to enter the city. When Matthew blew off her arm, she fainted immediately.


    The victims he had not had the chance to get a good look at tended to transform into one of the many Tarly hitmen and musclemen that had accosted him and his family for years.


    As his excitement and emotions built, he decided quite consciously that it was time to conjure up the one that had nearly destroyed his life. Nearly destroyed the dreams of power that Matthew had slowly cultivated his entire life.


    In reality, she was a skinny young woman carrying a bundle of fancy groceries that had been swept up in the stampede. She transformed, in Matthew¡¯s eyes, into Kaitlyn. The groceries undulated and shifted until they were a swaddled infant. He reached, his hand surging with raw, internal fire.


    Pop!


    The girl screamed and fell as flaming bits of bread and vegetables were strewn across the bricks. The crowd surged past her as she turned to look at Matthew, madness in his eyes. The murderer slowed to a determined walk and held his smoking palm out to her face. Veins, turning black with the overcharge of mana spidered across his open palm.


    ¡°You¡¯re done taking from me,¡± Matthew said, his voice hollow.


    The woman squirmed and cried as Matthew¡¯s hand heated against her skin. It was becoming hotter and hotter. Just when it became unbearable, it got hotter.


    But suddenly, relief. The woman opened her eyes slowly, her whole body trembling. A colossus of a man was holding Matthew¡¯s right arm high.


    ¡°Matthew, that¡¯s enough,¡± Benji said flatly.


    ¡°Let me go!¡± Matthew spat.


    ¡°You are done. You aren¡¯t here for the heist anymore. You¡¯re just killing.¡±


    ¡°I said let me go, Benji! I¡¯m the leader!¡± Matthew was beginning to lose control.


    ¡°So I let you lead, then?¡± Benji asked, hot tears showing up in his eyes. ¡°Where will you lead me? To die in the woods, like Jack? To wander off in the night by myself, like Sarah? Or how about leading me to die, alone in a church?¡±


    Matthew wailed as his hand fired off a burst of energy. Benji did not flinch. But he kept such a focus on Matthew¡¯s right hand that he was not prepared for the left to swing in, hitting him under the ribs and firing upward.


    The punch left Benji gasping and doubled over. He released Matthew who screeched as he scrambled around to put his hand on the forehead of one of his oldest friends. The heat began building as Benji silently wept.


    ¡°You made me,¡± Matthew urged.


    ¡°I tried to stop it,¡± Benji replied. ¡°Too little too late though.¡±


    Matthew¡¯s eyes teared up as well as the heat built. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see what he was about to do. But he needed to do it. Benji was too big. Too emotional. If Benji lost faith like he just did, he could crush Matthew utterly. He needed to die.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    Benji¡¯s pained groan came as a surprise, though. Matthew let the heat subside and grimaced when he saw Benji¡¯s torso being pierced with three spears of golden light. The massive man¡¯s eyes were rolling, focusing on nothing at all. With a final sigh, Benji fell face first onto the bricks.


    Matthew watched the blood beginning to pool when he heard a woman scream his name.


    ¡°You missed,¡± Captain Starlight observed through a pair of golden binoculars. She stood immediately beside Brother Abraham, her foot tapping impatiently. The streets were becoming largely empty, offering them a distant, but unobstructed view of the relic thieves.


    ¡°Astute, Captain,¡± Abraham replied. He was holding his rapier forward with two thin limbs of light emerging from the top and bottom until it resembled a bow, with the blade taking the appearance of a nocked arrow.


    ¡°At least the big one¡¯s down,¡± she shrugged.


    ¡°The one that was helping us, you mean? He could have ripped that other man in half if he¡¯d wanted.¡±


    ¡°He was sentenced just the same.¡±


    ¡°That is true, sister.¡±


    ¡°Brother Abraham, it¡¯s Flametongue, I see him.¡± The third Inquisitor¡¯s voice came through a pearl-colored earpiece each of them wore. A small golden chain dangled from it, ending in a pearl, to pick up the voices of the speaker.


    ¡°Captain, we hear you.¡± Abraham snagged the pearl and moved it closer to his mouth for clarity.


    ¡°Let me say, nice shot.¡± Flametongue¡¯s laughter led Abraham to roll his eyes.


    ¡°So you have eyes on the relic thief?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Brother. What would you like me to do?¡±


    ¡°What needs to be done to carry out the Justicar¡¯s sentencing. We are on our way.¡±


    ¡°Will be Well, Brother.¡±


    Abraham turned to Starlight and smiled. ¡°Shall we be away, then?¡±


    Starlight hooked an arm around the lanky priest¡¯s waist. Her pitch black cloak spread wide, seemingly of its own volition into the shape of two feathery wings, and with a hushed whoosh, the two leapt down the great hall.


    ¡°Matthew!¡± Kaitlyn screamed. The last people of the stampede were disappearing from around her.


    Her husband swung around to look at her. And when their eyes locked, the emotions nearly destroyed her.


    Devotion blended with fear. Hopelessness that she could never save him was dashed against glee that he was not the one lying face down on the bricks. But then she remembered what it had been like to know she was carrying a child.


    To be doted on by the entire natural world. To be smiled at by every passing person and thing who could ¡°just tell.¡± And how it felt that it was to be an experience shared with the man she loved.


    And yet he was the reason she had lost that reality.


    The rage arrived and she could feel herself indulging it. The temperature around her soared as she looked at him and saw that silver armband with blood splattered across it.


    Kaitlyn was somewhat surprised when she began to sink. Looking down, she saw the earth melting at her feet. Magma illuminated the immediate area, casting her in a ferocious light.


    Matthew watched in horror as his wife became the frightful shamaness from his dream. The difference though was clear. All of her bloodlust in this world was directed at him, and no one else.


    ¡°Kaitlyn,¡± Matthew said softly.


    The pain of the paladin¡¯s flail crashing across Matthew¡¯s left side did not register at first. He was too numb from seeing his wife. But the aggressive roar of the Inquisitor caught his ear.


    And Kaitlyn¡¯s sudden reaction to the strike had him curious. All of the sudden, the heat and the hate were gone. Replaced by fear and concern. Matthew saw Kaitlyn looking past him.


    He turned with a great amount of effort, noticing as he did that he had trouble staying balanced with only one arm and a freshly broken leg.


    Captain Flametongue was a siege engine of a man. But the Halcyon Band was a legendary weapon. Matthew wondered which would be stronger.


    His vision blurred as he raised his right hand and aimed it at Flametongue¡¯s face. That weaponized heat was comfortable in his hand.


    The frantic clank of metal boots on the bricks did little to drown out Kaitlyn¡¯s pained screams as she tried to draw her feet back up from the re-hardened stone. She was stuck in brick up to her ankles. She could have asked the stones to free her, but after feeling the raw, unfettered power of her emotions just then, she was panicking.


    ¡°Kaitlyn!¡± Sam called as he placed his hands around her.


    She thrashed in his arms, tears flowing. She knew she would not make it in time, but she hated Sam for not letting her try.


    There was another clatter, but Kaitlyn paid no mind as the priest and paladin of the Fifth Inquisition arrived immediately to her left.


    She watched Flametongue unceremoniously and inhumanely slam his flail across the center of Matthew¡¯s mass. Behind the spiked head of the weapon, nothing was left standing.

 The Start of Sping

    Zora walked slowly down the gangplank. Partly because of her drunkenness, and partly because of depression. The whoops and cheers from the ship were weighing so heavily on her heart. She saw Cayd standing, chatting with a paladin on the pier below. It made her sick.


    The sun was setting over the city, casting everything in orange twilight. The final night of her freedom. But at least she wasn¡¯t dead? At least that sea monster would not be able to get to her now? At least she would have company while she endured the scorn of the Sun Goddess.


    ¡°Captain,¡± Johnston threw a loud whisper to Zora as he worked past the crew and onto the gangplank. ¡°Before you go,¡± he said softly, pushing a wooden box into her hands. ¡°He left it with me last night.¡±


    Zoras breath caught. ¡°Tidus, you idiot,¡± she muttered as she turned the box for a closer look. Two dolphins were carved haphazardly into its lid, the quality you would expect from the underside of a teenager¡¯s writing desk. The lopsided heart they formed, though she tried to bite it back, made Zora smile.


    She quietly opened the box and felt the tears begin to well up. A necklace rested on a small velvet pillow with a wadded up piece of paper beside it. As a pendant there was a small glass vial, the chain of the necklace clamped to the neck. The vial was full of vibrant sea water, and bobbing around inside was a glowing god¡¯s tear.


    Scrawled on the paper was Tidus¡¯s last message before her punishment was to begin. ¡°This tear was from the avatar I formed to save you. Wear it and it will be as though I am with you. But only wear it at night, please.¡±


    ---


    Zarraz watched the chaos unfurl as his undead soldiers began slicing and ripping through the crowd. He had a proud grin as the catoblepas turned civilians to stone, and strained to keep from cheering out loud when he saw one of the former Wrath Liches plunge their knife into someone. People began screaming and running, bumping into him and pushing him to get past to safety.


    ¡°Zarraz, you need to escape,¡± the voice of the King¡¯s Shade cut through the cacophony.


    ¡°What? Why?¡±Zarraz asked, shifting his weight and lifting onto his tip-toes to try and watch his warriors.


    ¡°Matthew is doomed. He is drunk on his own power. There is no way he will make it to the crypt.¡±


    ¡°Hmm,¡± Zarraz thought, giving up on watching his underlings. He turned against the flow of the crowd and saw the shadowy visage of the King¡¯s Shade. ¡°Probably should have worked a little harder at keeping my guys secret?¡±


    ¡°There is nothing you could have done. The Church of the Will was ready for him.¡±


    ¡°Strange,¡± Zarraz observed.


    ¡°Move, Zarraz. You will be trampled here.¡±


    ¡°Uh, right!¡± Zarraz looked backward just in time to see his catoblepas sling two bodies into the air. ¡°But my god tears?¡±


    ¡°Zarraz! I will get you more. Just leave!¡± The King¡¯s Shade¡¯s voice was louder and more threatening that Zarraz had heard, urging him to motion. The greasy Gavundari pushed through the god¡¯s avatar and began forcing his way against the panicking crowd to get back out of the main gate of The Throne.


    ---


    Wesley nervously looked into the glowing mass of druids, grove masters, and other significant characters of the Verdant Grove as they waited for the Chief¡¯s address. Lady sat at his heels, peering through the crowd.


    The crowd went silent as three figures, each glowing a different shade of green formed in the center of the ring-shaped group. One was the towering avatar of Talnorel. Another was an older woman Wesley did not recognize. The third was Wesley¡¯s mother, the Living Chief Ashleigh Maplegrove.


    ¡°Thank you for coming here today. Short notice I know, but I am sure you all will want to hear this,¡± Ashleigh said, looking out into the Verdant Dream forms of her followers. ¡°For those of you who do not recognize the woman with the Treemother and myself, she is Gretta Knotwood. A primary agent in the aging Talnorel Alliance during the war against Dorvan and the Wrath Liches. She was offered as an ambassador to a Church of the Will outpost, and-¡± Ashleigh caught herself. ¡°Actually, I will let her tell you the story.¡±


    Gretta stepped forward with a humble smile. ¡°Thank you Chief. As the Chief was saying, I live at a Church of the Will outpost keeping safe one of their most delicate and powerful relics. Four days ago, the relic was stolen.¡±


    The crowd muttered, but Gretta continued. ¡°Yes, yes, what does a stolen Church relic have to do with us? Did I tell them their treasures were stolen? Well, to answer the questions, it has a lot to do with us, and yes I did. They are handling it accordingly, and now we must handle our half of the problem accordingly.¡±


    Gretta turned and took a deep breath. ¡°We apprehended one of the thieves They had used a lockpicker weed to work the magic lock on the relic, and when I asked who they had gotten the plant from, she told me ¡®a druid named Gideon.¡¯¡±A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    The crowd began to churn and Wesley¡¯s heart suddenly sank. Even through the glow of all of the other druids from around the world, he could see straight into his mother¡¯s discomfort with the announcement. Neither of them ever thought Gideon would resurface after his betrayal and murder of Wesley¡¯s father.


    ---


    ¡°Paladin, the woman is a danger. Remove your hands.¡± Abraham¡¯s commands were biting. Sam released Kaitlyn and backed up. He had no idea what to do but just listened to orders. He watched, sick to his stomach, as Flametongue reached into the gore to recover the Halcyon Band.


    Kaitlyn was too traumatized to look at him, or even Captain Starlight as the paladin arrested her.


    ¡°Do you have somewhere else to be?¡± the priest asked Sam as he watched.


    ¡°She didn¡¯t do anything. She was trying to stop it.¡±


    ¡°She did a terrible job.¡±


    ¡°Look, she tried to help.¡±


    ¡°And we will find out if that is true. We are the Inquisitors after all. I ask you again, do you have somewhere else to be? Or do you just not have any duties or orders today?¡±


    Sam looked at the looming Inquisitor, said nothing, and began walking slowly back to where he had left Shiner and his sister.


    Jane was on the ground, coughing up pebbles still, but the scales of stone had luckily flaked off. The stabbed man had still not recovered consciousness. Jane looked up with relief at Sam, but did not venture to speak.


    ¡°Is it over?¡± Shiner asked.


    ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s over,¡± Sam replied.


    ¡°Where¡¯s Kaitlyn?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s being taken in.¡±


    Shiner looked down, and after waiting what he felt was an appropriate length of time, he looked up with a smile. ¡°So what were they like?¡±


    ¡°Who?¡±


    ¡°The inquisitors, Sammy!¡±


    Sam sighed and looked back up the hall. The clergy members informed of the safety were beginning to mill around, looking for injured and beginning the clean up. ¡°Ruthless.¡±


    Shiner grinned in admiration while Sam struggled to swallow.


    ---


    Petra looked south down the bridge to Talnorel where the late morning sun was casting everything with a foreign, warm light.


    ¡°Why are you leaving, Winter¡¯s Daughter?¡± one of the tribe¡¯s children asked.


    ¡°Because I didn¡¯t listen to my dad, little one,¡± Petra said with a smile.


    Ymir beamed at his daughter. ¡°What do you plan on doing once you get across the bridge? Just fight the first lava woman you find?¡±


    Petra laughed, trying to fight back the tears. Spending winter with the tribe meant they had become her family. And now, because of her own youthful pride, she was being sent away. But she made a promise. She would do whatever she needed to to keep the tribe safe.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to start by finding out why the Church abandoned their promise.¡±


    ¡°A good place to begin.¡± Ymir said with a nod. He turned back to the barbarians. ¡°So, is a new home a good gift?¡±


    The barbarians, children and adults alike, shouted in thanks.


    ¡°Then, now that you all are home, I will return to mine,¡± the god said with a chuckle. ¡°Wish my daughter luck!¡±


    Petra watched her father¡¯s avatar crumble to powdery snow and blow away over the chasm as the faith of the barbarians lit up in her heart.


    ---


    It was such a peculiar situation all around. Passage with the Coastal Dispatch was a peculiarity. And now the throne had sent Maribel a special passenger carriage to return her to her post at Back City. Her temporary duty of acting as primary interrogator for the Sea Witch was complete, and now she was headed home.


    The priestess was curious if it had anything to do with the relic attack on The Throne¡¯s grand hall. But that sort of thing was what Inquisitors were for. Sitting on the plush seat and looking out of the gold-trimmed window at the March passing by outside, Maribel dismissed the idea.


    She ran her thumbs over the handkerchief High Sergeant Boldbounty had given her as she packed her things. She watched the fields roll past, feeling slightly sad to be missing the motley bunch.


    She still could not get past the quiet, mysterious send off they had given to Cayd and Zora the morning after the failed execution.


    When Maribel¡¯s thumb caught on a loop of thread, she reflexively grinned. She looked at the handkerchief and, without looking up, she reached into a handbag under the carriage seat for a small, silver pen-like instrument with a needle on the end.


    She got to work picking and shifting the threads on the handkerchief, her mouth moving in the shape of words she read.


    Little Sister,


    I know it is not quite protocol to deliver a missive to you directly, but these are extenuating circumstances. As I had told you shortly after your arrival that I was looking into information for our friend. Well, I was also using our resources to find information on our friend.


    Cayd Zahid was the court magus of the Gavundar King. Why did I let him waltz off with the pirate as I did? Remember Solana¡¯s reaction when she heard that name. He is a man unlike any we have seen here in Talnorel. I will reach our network to make sure eyes are kept on him and watch for any strange moves he makes.


    But in summation, Cayd is a frightening man. One that gods fear, or at least have a distinct distaste for. I have sent another missive ahead to the Kind Countess. She will be happy to see you upon your return to discuss these events.


    On any account, I wish you a safe and comfortable journey!


    Regards,


    Fatherly General

 Epilogue

    Slamming his eyes shut till they hurt, Matthew was flinching and waiting for the pop of the Halcyon Band discharging. He waited and waited for the shot that would kill the paladin. But the pop never came.


    He slowly opened his eyes to see a time-frozen world. The tank-like paladin was still in front of him, his arm arced in a follow-through of a mighty swing. Matthew studied the flail and grimaced when he noticed the gore and cloth that was globbed between the spikes of the weapon¡¯s spiked head.


    He looked around the immediate area and gasped. The Halycon Band lay on the bricks, glittering. Matthew bent down to pick it up and his fingers slid through it. He tried again. And again. His fingers still wisped through.


    Confused, Matthew turned around. Kaitlyn was there, her ankles buried in still glowing brick. She was wailing when time stopped. He hated her crying face. She looked ridiculous.


    A young paladin was behind her, his face frozen in a shout. His hands were around his wife. Matthew felt a pang of jealousy, but swallowed it. Too late for that, it seems. Two other clergy members were frozen in the sky just a little to Kaitlyn¡¯s left, caught in midair with a dramatic flair.


    Benji¡¯s blood was not flowing on the ground. He had bled so much. Matthew could not bring himself to stare. And he looked immediately down, expecting what he saw.


    He was looking at himself. His destroyed body at least.


    A movement in the distance caught his eye. Matthew stepped around the Inquisitor to see a shape trotting toward him. A friendly looking dog was making his way down the street, nose hovering just over the ground. As much as he tried, the dog¡¯s traits were all too generic for him to place a breed. But he noticed, around the dog¡¯s neck, hung a wreath of sun bleached flowers.


    Reflexively, Matt looked at Kaitlyn, his heart beginning to beat faster. He thought back to that stupid game he was forced to play at the tavern. The coin that had the burning wreath on it. Chael.


    The god of death stopped and sniffed the air in Matthew¡¯s direction, seeming to catch a scent. And then he began bounding over.


    Matthew had no idea what to expect. Would he be tackled into the afterlife? Would his soul be mauled? He was always told Chael did not exist.


    Just a few paces short of Matthew, the god stopped, his tail wagging energetically. Chael bowed his head, urging Matthew to give him attention. When Matthew held out his hand, Chael excitedly rubbed his head across his palm and fingers. The act was sort of calming for Matt and brought a smile to his face.


    After Chael was finished petting himself, he gave a bark. It was ethereal, and trembling. It echoed through the halls of The Throne. The dog then looked around, as though waiting for something.


    He barked again, this time louder. Matthew looked at Chael, confused, and the dog looked back at him, panting with canine anticipation.


    After a moment of silence, Chael broke into a series of barks and howls that bounced between the buildings and off of the floors and ceilings, layering upon itself until it became a chorus.


    Matthew found the song unsettling. A sense of dread began to build in him as the dog spun and jumped with his barks and howls. Then, above the dog, two scarlet jewel-like eyes flashed into existence. The King¡¯s Shade¡¯s black crown materialized over the jewels while his inky cloak dripped down from the eyes until it was fully formed in its churning, foggy state.


    Once the King¡¯s Shade was fully formed, Chael went silent. His lips pulled back over his gums revealing his sharp, glistening teeth.


    ¡°Shut up, dog,¡± the King¡¯s Shade bellowed. ¡°I¡¯m here.¡±


    Chael allowed his face to rest and trotted back over to Matthew. He gave Matt a light lick on the back of the hand, and Matt rewarded the greeting with a gentle pat.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°So you got yourself killed. Well done.¡± The King¡¯s Shade hovered down toward Matthew as Chael backed off before finally sprinting off.


    Matthew suddenly felt wholly alone.


    ¡°You have nothing to say for yourself, Matthew?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    The King¡¯s Shade began to laugh. ¡°Look at it! Lying on the ground. In your blood. I gave that to you and you slung it onto the ground in a puddle of blood!¡± The god¡¯s cloak oozed in the direction of the Halcyon Band.


    ¡°You¡¯re a god. You can give me a chance, right?¡±


    ¡°I gave you a chance, Matthew.¡±


    ¡°Look at that guy,¡± Matthew said, looking at the Inquisitor. ¡°How would I be able to win?¡±


    The jeweled eyes of the King¡¯s Shade glinted. ¡°If you only knew the threats that would have been before you had you survived today. This man is nothing, and the fact that your body was ruined so easily means you are less than that.¡±


    The sting ignited Matthew¡¯s rage. ¡°You do not talk to me like that.¡±


    ¡°Or what?¡±


    ¡°No one insults me like that.¡±


    The King¡¯s Shade¡¯s eyes began to lower, taking the oozing shadow of a cloak with them, until they were level with Matthew¡¯s eyes. ¡°Allow me, Matthew, to put you in your place.¡±


    Matthew stood his ground.


    ¡°You, mortal, are less than nothing. You were an accidental birth, a nightmare of a child, a terrible husband, and you were on track to be a worse father. Did you know your mother was a blue magic user?¡±


    Matthew bit back his anger. ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Of course you did not. You claim to have cared about her, but you probably would have done more to save her if you did, would you not? Her death was more than just a blow to you, my boy. I was preparing her to be something great. But you and your hellacious father ruined all of that.¡±


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡±


    ¡°Your mother was going to be frightfully powerful. But she was too caring. And it swallowed her up. And I thought that maybe you would have caught just a mite of her greatness. But no. You are just your father¡¯s son.¡±


    Matthew¡¯s face was turning red with rage.


    ¡°You are selfish and you are wicked, but worse? You are power hungry. You want power over your friends. Over your wife. Over your own future. Violence against a child is an unforgivable thing, but even more disgusting is violence against your own.¡±


    Matthew suddenly deflated to have his sin laid bare. ¡°But you told me to do that.¡±


    ¡°And who am I to you, Matthew?¡±


    ¡°I was doing what you told me to do.¡±


    ¡°Interesting, hmm? Because you never take orders but from shadowy figures that haunt your dreams. If it had been anyone else in there, say Kaitlyn, you would have sneered and shrieked and said over and over how you knew best.¡±


    The sense of dread was growing in Matthew¡¯s heart.


    ¡°You have no sense of decency. You have no sense of loyalty. You have terrible character judgement. And you have enough pride for a hundred fools. And look again at what it has earned you. Death. Death and sorrow for the people who, for some forsaken reason, found it possible to love you.¡±


    Matthew took a deep, trembling breath. ¡°What comes next?¡± he asked, tears beginning to appear.


    ¡°For me? I will move to the next potential champion.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re out of the running, Matthew. So it¡¯s on to my next candidate.¡±


    ¡°I was¡­¡±


    ¡°A pawn?¡± The King¡¯s Shade laughed. ¡°You were a pawn your whole life, Matthew.¡±


    Matthew Carpenter, struck suddenly with existential dread, looked down with misty eyes.


    ¡°Now, what is next for you? Usually, a god will sponsor your travel into the celestial realm afterlife. But you? No one is coming for you.¡±


    ¡°But you are here?¡± Matthew half-stated, half asked.


    ¡°Because no god wants you. Even I do not want you. If I had not shown, though, that infernal hound would have barked until the end of time. I did not want to be here for you. And I surely will not be taking you with me.¡±


    Matthew looked up, dumbfounded. ¡°So¡­?¡±


    ¡°So your soul will stay here until it eventually gives up and you will be lost to the chaos of time. I am truly sorry it has to be this way. I tried to save you, Matthew, but you proved irredeemable.¡±


    There was a long silence.


    ¡°Well then, it appears we are done here, Mister Carpenter.¡± The King¡¯s Shade began to float away, his shadow becoming more translucent with every inch he moved away from Matthew.


    ¡°Why have you done this to me?¡±


    ¡°Mister Carpenter,¡± the King¡¯s Shade replied, his voice just as full and strong despite his fading body. ¡°You did this to yourself.¡±


    The eyes were the last to disappear, and the avatar left behind no god¡¯s tears this time. Matthew, despondent, sank to a seated position amidst his own gore, frozen in time, and screamed into his hands.