The Cleric
Dovidia could brag of many things. It was the largest empire in the entirety of Albion and among the largest in all three of the inhabited continents. It was the center of the Church, the organization that oversaw the many denominations of the Good God’s faith on the continent. It was also a melting pot of a nation that was proactive in welcoming people of all shapes and sizes, so long as their spirit wasn’t blackened.
The power and influence Dovidia held was unparalleled. The current ruler united a religion across a land by winning favor with kings, tribe chiefs, emperors, and other rulers of all kind. An upstart champion born in the outskirts of the kingdom’s borders held a banner up high and drove away the four Demon Kings during the Incursion, aiding in saving the entire world.
But it was all destined to fall apart.
Thraldsum Hezneät had seen it all before. Powerful kingdoms, charismatic leaders, timeless legends; bards sang of them at every street corner. The walls of Dovidia held strong now, but time would crush it to insignificant dust, just as it had the Age of Immortality. It might not even take that long. The famed hero-king was beginning to age and his eldest son, competent as he was, did not share his father’s romantic sensibilities or all-inclusive charisma. It was only a matter of time before this difference of opinion left an impact in the nation’s well-being.
Not that he cared about all that. Things came and went. It was a part of the process. This Era of Champions, as so many were starting to call these passing decades, wouldn’t amount to much in the end.
Castle Eknavier had a massive hall dedicated to the Kaos, the Good God’s extensive pantheon of followers whose intense spirit qualified them as minor gods. Every officially recognized Kaos had a large painting hanging on either wall, towering grandly over all who passed along the opulent carpet that carved a path between them. Upon coming to the castle, Thraldsum naturally found his feet guiding him through this hall, through all the familiar artwork of gods he’d spent so many years studying.
It didn’t take him long to find his own patron. The imposing figure Khusset was framed by foreboding darkness, outlined by a stream of tangled light that formed a complex web that became ever more complicated the closer you looked at it. The dwarf was marked by a casual grin and pupil-less eyes that were almost hidden by the jet-black beard that took up most of his face, spreading out in all directions like a lion’s mane. The god of death’s cycle and rebirth was flanked by his more sophisticated rival and brother-in-arms (and, in some circles, lover), the elven god of life and perpetuity. Both were worshipped as two of the Good God’s most loyal followers, tasked with overseeing the flow of life and spirit as if it were the water cycle; a monumental task that came up frequently in a number of myths, including many that were did not feature either god too prominently.
Thraldsum respected the Kaos he worshipped, as anyone else would, but he also envied the ancient being. All Kaos held domain over mysteries in the natural world and Khusset’s dominion over death implied a great number of corresponding secrets. Secrets that could put an end to the inevitable suffering of losing those one cared for. Secrets that did nothing to help his fellows during the war against the Evil God. Even with his long dwarven lifespan, Thraldsum was beginning to doubt that he’d ever approach the truths he was seeking.
That grin looked more and more caustic ever time he saw it, teasing him as he floundered for answers and results. Sometimes, Thraldsum couldn’t help but glare up at his god’s visage and resist the urge to curse.
“Praying to your patron? I must say, I’m impressed. Many priests put politics before faith when they come here.”
Thraldsum’s attention was torn away from Khusset’s painting by a flat tone that came from further down the hall. A tall robed individual made its way toward him at a steady pace, their bronze, leathery hands folded over one another. Thraldsum recognized the metallic scaled hide of one of the Church’s inquisitors. This was a man tasked with oversight and investigation when it came to the organization’s many rules. The Dragonkin Inquistor Olyus was flanked by two other robed priests who had their hoods up to cover their face. Both stood tall, much taller than Thraldsum, but still shorter than the man they followed. They kept in step with each other, maintaining a short but quick stride so that the tips of their boots never passed the hem of their robes. They appeared to glide toward the dwarf like a cluster of specters. Their movements were practiced and in perfect sync, adding to the feeling of foreboding.
Thraldsum wore a similar robe to them, as is custom for members of the Church when they enter the city. No matter the denomination, all believers of the Good God within Albion were a part of the Church, so all clergymen were beholden to these rules while within these walls. He wasn’t comfortable outside of his armor, but it would have to do for now.
“The relationship between a man and his patron is a funny thing.” Thraldsum sighed bitterly as he turned from Khusset’s painting. “You end up thanking them for everything good that happens, but you also can’t help but raise an eyebrow at them when misfortune follows.”
“There are worse relationships to be had.” Inquisitor Olyus and his shadows stopped just a few feet away from Thraldsum and the three of them bowed their heads simultaneously. “There are few who have spent as much time communing with their god as you. It’s why your expertise is so valued.”
“Save the flattery for someone who matters.” Thraldsum grumbled. He pushed past the priests to head toward the direction they had come from. “Time spent doesn’t mean squat to ancient beings who might not even be taking us seriously. Just show me to the Queen’s room and I’ll do what I can.”
“Thank you. She’s in poor health, but it doesn’t seem to be immediately threatening. Her Majesty would be happy for any aid you can provide to make her more comfortable.”
Thraldsum swiveled his head around and snorted, blowing the hanging strands of moustache. The priests had moved to follow behind him, but the Inquisitor remain planted, watching Thraldsum leave with a polite bow.
“You’re not coming with?”
“I’m afraid I have other business to tend to. I would be of no use standing by the Queen’s bedside. If my presence is required, you need only call.”
Thraldsum shrugged and continued on his way. The Inquisitor was a busy man. Maybe he was prepared for the case where the queen passed away.
The only thing worse than pretending life didn’t inevitably end was putting yourself in a position to exploit that reality.
~~~~~
The Myrmidon
“Noooooooo! That was my last patch! I can’t lose it like this! Welt! Welt, please, you have to dive in and get it—”
“Your servant can’t dive into a pool of acid, Silas!”
Kunzit yanked the pudgy dwarf’s collar back for what felt like the millionth time since they met. She drew her sword with her free hand, swinging it in a wide arc that left a trail of silver behind before using the blade to divide the moss-covered creature before them in two. Its top half toppled back into the pool of opaque liquid it had ambushed them from, sending a splash of it spraying onto the bridge the three were perched on. Kunzit tracked the individual droplets with her eyes and moved quickly to knock Silas out of the way with a not so gentle kick before evading to the side, drawing her other sword with her now free off-hand.
Dozens of these plant creatures were rising out of the acidic pool. Not ten seconds ago, Kunzit had been walking alone with the chatty Silas and his flamboyantly designed magical automaton through a deserted town built from brick and stone. As soon as they were halfway across a bridge spanning over one of the many still canals that cut through the town, a monster burst from the liquid to loom over them, scaring Silas into dropping one of his magical artifacts while probably making him pee a little.
They would be surrounded and overwhelmed in seconds. With Kunzit’s mobility and strength, taking down this number of enemies was possible. They were slow, seemed to lack intelligence, and she didn’t feel much resistance from the first attack. But it was still a matter of doing. Silas could defend himself with the many fun items he’d spent his massive trust fund on, but it was a marginal stopgap. When she first met him, he didn’t have the skill or experience to defend himself from being robbed by a gate urchin.
This introduced an interesting dilemma. She’d basically be fighting with an arm and a leg tied together and the slightest mistake would mean an agonizing death for them both. She couldn’t resist a grin that doubtlessly scared Silas more than the plant creatures drenched in acid could, even as they began to approach.
The look on Silas’ face as he quivered next to his automaton brought Kunzit back to her senses. She was here to protect the man who hired her, nothing else. She couldn’t put him at risk just to indulge her curiosity.
“The Recall Scroll.”
“W-What?”
“Use the Recall Scroll. NOW.”
Kunzit’s tone quashed any further objection. Silas dug through the pouch Welt was holding for him and began chanting the incantation to activate the parchment he managed to dig out.
The moment he started, Kunzit took a deep breath and felt everything around her slow down drastically. Her own body felt like a bag full of sand, but she didn’t bother trying to move. She let her eyes scan her surroundings one last time, taking note of anything that might have been important, before focusing on the approaching monsters. Silas tended to buy the best he could find, so the Recall Scroll would be quality enough to activate in a short five seconds. Expensive, but worth it, especially at times like these. The monsters would be able to get close enough to attack once in that time if she didn’t hold them at bay. There was no need to preserve her energy anymore.
Kunzit released her breath, feeling her body lighten and her movement begin to pick up again. She gripped the hilts of her curved blades firmly yet loosely. She swung them around to carve out a horizontal circle in the air, finishing just as the last of her breath escaped her lungs. There was a beat of one silent second before the closest plant creatures had their guts gouged out by deep cuts that sent them staggering back.
Having bought the few seconds they needed, Kunzit replaced her swords in their sheathes and closed the distance between her and Silas with a few long strides, grabbing his outstretched hand just as he finished his incantation and the scroll was surrounded by an arcane glow, activating a short-range teleportation circle at their feet to whisk them away to the nearest safe place.
“You’re incredible.” Silas managed to utter with eyes full of genuine flattery, making Kunzit roll her eyes just as they were teleported away.
Bodyguarding definitely wasn’t the profession for her. People, should could deal with. Fighting them off in her usual way. But Silas’s obsession with exploring the dangerous world he’d only read of in books brought them up against the dangers of nature and so much more. And it was too fun. At this rate, she was going to slip up. And it was going to cost this spoiled bastard his life.
Dovidia could brag of many things. It was the largest empire in the entirety of Albion and among the largest in all three of the inhabited continents. It was the center of the Church, the organization that oversaw the many denominations of the Good God’s faith on the continent. It was also a melting pot of a nation that was proactive in welcoming people of all shapes and sizes, so long as their spirit wasn’t blackened.
The power and influence Dovidia held was unparalleled. The current ruler united a religion across a land by winning favor with kings, tribe chiefs, emperors, and other rulers of all kind. An upstart champion born in the outskirts of the kingdom’s borders held a banner up high and drove away the four Demon Kings during the Incursion, aiding in saving the entire world.
But it was all destined to fall apart.
Thraldsum Hezneät had seen it all before. Powerful kingdoms, charismatic leaders, timeless legends; bards sang of them at every street corner. The walls of Dovidia held strong now, but time would crush it to insignificant dust, just as it had the Age of Immortality. It might not even take that long. The famed hero-king was beginning to age and his eldest son, competent as he was, did not share his father’s romantic sensibilities or all-inclusive charisma. It was only a matter of time before this difference of opinion left an impact in the nation’s well-being.
Not that he cared about all that. Things came and went. It was a part of the process. This Era of Champions, as so many were starting to call these passing decades, wouldn’t amount to much in the end.
Castle Eknavier had a massive hall dedicated to the Kaos, the Good God’s extensive pantheon of followers whose intense spirit qualified them as minor gods. Every officially recognized Kaos had a large painting hanging on either wall, towering grandly over all who passed along the opulent carpet that carved a path between them. Upon coming to the castle, Thraldsum naturally found his feet guiding him through this hall, through all the familiar artwork of gods he’d spent so many years studying.
It didn’t take him long to find his own patron. The imposing figure Khusset was framed by foreboding darkness, outlined by a stream of tangled light that formed a complex web that became ever more complicated the closer you looked at it. The dwarf was marked by a casual grin and pupil-less eyes that were almost hidden by the jet-black beard that took up most of his face, spreading out in all directions like a lion’s mane. The god of death’s cycle and rebirth was flanked by his more sophisticated rival and brother-in-arms (and, in some circles, lover), the elven god of life and perpetuity. Both were worshipped as two of the Good God’s most loyal followers, tasked with overseeing the flow of life and spirit as if it were the water cycle; a monumental task that came up frequently in a number of myths, including many that were did not feature either god too prominently.
Thraldsum respected the Kaos he worshipped, as anyone else would, but he also envied the ancient being. All Kaos held domain over mysteries in the natural world and Khusset’s dominion over death implied a great number of corresponding secrets. Secrets that could put an end to the inevitable suffering of losing those one cared for. Secrets that did nothing to help his fellows during the war against the Evil God. Even with his long dwarven lifespan, Thraldsum was beginning to doubt that he’d ever approach the truths he was seeking.
That grin looked more and more caustic ever time he saw it, teasing him as he floundered for answers and results. Sometimes, Thraldsum couldn’t help but glare up at his god’s visage and resist the urge to curse.
“Praying to your patron? I must say, I’m impressed. Many priests put politics before faith when they come here.”
Thraldsum’s attention was torn away from Khusset’s painting by a flat tone that came from further down the hall. A tall robed individual made its way toward him at a steady pace, their bronze, leathery hands folded over one another. Thraldsum recognized the metallic scaled hide of one of the Church’s inquisitors. This was a man tasked with oversight and investigation when it came to the organization’s many rules. The Dragonkin Inquistor Olyus was flanked by two other robed priests who had their hoods up to cover their face. Both stood tall, much taller than Thraldsum, but still shorter than the man they followed. They kept in step with each other, maintaining a short but quick stride so that the tips of their boots never passed the hem of their robes. They appeared to glide toward the dwarf like a cluster of specters. Their movements were practiced and in perfect sync, adding to the feeling of foreboding.
Thraldsum wore a similar robe to them, as is custom for members of the Church when they enter the city. No matter the denomination, all believers of the Good God within Albion were a part of the Church, so all clergymen were beholden to these rules while within these walls. He wasn’t comfortable outside of his armor, but it would have to do for now.
“The relationship between a man and his patron is a funny thing.” Thraldsum sighed bitterly as he turned from Khusset’s painting. “You end up thanking them for everything good that happens, but you also can’t help but raise an eyebrow at them when misfortune follows.”
“There are worse relationships to be had.” Inquisitor Olyus and his shadows stopped just a few feet away from Thraldsum and the three of them bowed their heads simultaneously. “There are few who have spent as much time communing with their god as you. It’s why your expertise is so valued.”
“Save the flattery for someone who matters.” Thraldsum grumbled. He pushed past the priests to head toward the direction they had come from. “Time spent doesn’t mean squat to ancient beings who might not even be taking us seriously. Just show me to the Queen’s room and I’ll do what I can.”
“Thank you. She’s in poor health, but it doesn’t seem to be immediately threatening. Her Majesty would be happy for any aid you can provide to make her more comfortable.”
Thraldsum swiveled his head around and snorted, blowing the hanging strands of moustache. The priests had moved to follow behind him, but the Inquisitor remain planted, watching Thraldsum leave with a polite bow.
“You’re not coming with?”
“I’m afraid I have other business to tend to. I would be of no use standing by the Queen’s bedside. If my presence is required, you need only call.”
Thraldsum shrugged and continued on his way. The Inquisitor was a busy man. Maybe he was prepared for the case where the queen passed away.
The only thing worse than pretending life didn’t inevitably end was putting yourself in a position to exploit that reality.
~~~~~
The Myrmidon
“Noooooooo! That was my last patch! I can’t lose it like this! Welt! Welt, please, you have to dive in and get it—”
“Your servant can’t dive into a pool of acid, Silas!”
Kunzit yanked the pudgy dwarf’s collar back for what felt like the millionth time since they met. She drew her sword with her free hand, swinging it in a wide arc that left a trail of silver behind before using the blade to divide the moss-covered creature before them in two. Its top half toppled back into the pool of opaque liquid it had ambushed them from, sending a splash of it spraying onto the bridge the three were perched on. Kunzit tracked the individual droplets with her eyes and moved quickly to knock Silas out of the way with a not so gentle kick before evading to the side, drawing her other sword with her now free off-hand.
Dozens of these plant creatures were rising out of the acidic pool. Not ten seconds ago, Kunzit had been walking alone with the chatty Silas and his flamboyantly designed magical automaton through a deserted town built from brick and stone. As soon as they were halfway across a bridge spanning over one of the many still canals that cut through the town, a monster burst from the liquid to loom over them, scaring Silas into dropping one of his magical artifacts while probably making him pee a little.
They would be surrounded and overwhelmed in seconds. With Kunzit’s mobility and strength, taking down this number of enemies was possible. They were slow, seemed to lack intelligence, and she didn’t feel much resistance from the first attack. But it was still a matter of doing. Silas could defend himself with the many fun items he’d spent his massive trust fund on, but it was a marginal stopgap. When she first met him, he didn’t have the skill or experience to defend himself from being robbed by a gate urchin.
This introduced an interesting dilemma. She’d basically be fighting with an arm and a leg tied together and the slightest mistake would mean an agonizing death for them both. She couldn’t resist a grin that doubtlessly scared Silas more than the plant creatures drenched in acid could, even as they began to approach.
The look on Silas’ face as he quivered next to his automaton brought Kunzit back to her senses. She was here to protect the man who hired her, nothing else. She couldn’t put him at risk just to indulge her curiosity.
“The Recall Scroll.”
“W-What?”
“Use the Recall Scroll. NOW.”
Kunzit’s tone quashed any further objection. Silas dug through the pouch Welt was holding for him and began chanting the incantation to activate the parchment he managed to dig out.
The moment he started, Kunzit took a deep breath and felt everything around her slow down drastically. Her own body felt like a bag full of sand, but she didn’t bother trying to move. She let her eyes scan her surroundings one last time, taking note of anything that might have been important, before focusing on the approaching monsters. Silas tended to buy the best he could find, so the Recall Scroll would be quality enough to activate in a short five seconds. Expensive, but worth it, especially at times like these. The monsters would be able to get close enough to attack once in that time if she didn’t hold them at bay. There was no need to preserve her energy anymore.
Kunzit released her breath, feeling her body lighten and her movement begin to pick up again. She gripped the hilts of her curved blades firmly yet loosely. She swung them around to carve out a horizontal circle in the air, finishing just as the last of her breath escaped her lungs. There was a beat of one silent second before the closest plant creatures had their guts gouged out by deep cuts that sent them staggering back.
Having bought the few seconds they needed, Kunzit replaced her swords in their sheathes and closed the distance between her and Silas with a few long strides, grabbing his outstretched hand just as he finished his incantation and the scroll was surrounded by an arcane glow, activating a short-range teleportation circle at their feet to whisk them away to the nearest safe place.
“You’re incredible.” Silas managed to utter with eyes full of genuine flattery, making Kunzit roll her eyes just as they were teleported away.
Bodyguarding definitely wasn’t the profession for her. People, should could deal with. Fighting them off in her usual way. But Silas’s obsession with exploring the dangerous world he’d only read of in books brought them up against the dangers of nature and so much more. And it was too fun. At this rate, she was going to slip up. And it was going to cost this spoiled bastard his life.