“Good Hunter,” Eve said, her tone not changing in the slightest, “is something troubling you?”
The Huntress didn’t answer, her focus entirely on the clumps of coldblood she had laid out on the altar at the back of the Workshop. There were twelve in total, one for each of the monsters she had killed. Nine of them were from the unremarkable werewolves, while three others were from the mother and her children. She could tell which was which by listening to the unintelligible whispers they spoke to her in. Blood echoes were what remained of her victims Will. Though it was usually very diluted, there was always a small bit of the dead person remaining in the clumps. Specifically, their memories.
Her eyes narrowed as they moved from the different gatherings of blood echoes. She picked up one of the clumps from the left side of the Altar, where she had placed the unremarkable werewolf echoes. The whispers got louder and more comprehensible as she lifted it into the air. She felt a familiar chill run through her glove and up her arm. She started to frown while flexing her fingers, thoughts of crushing the clump in her hand filling her head.
“Good Hunter?” the Huntress started at the sound of Eve’s voice.
She shook her head and looked towards the doll with a small smile, ‘Sorry, Eve. I was lost in thought. These blood echoes come from monsters I killed in the Waking World. I’m debating whether they’d be safe to absorb or not. While the monsters, they call themselves Mamono, do not look like Beasts they share many similarities. They spread by infecting human men and women, creating or birthing more of their number and slowly but surely overrunning the human population, and they carry an instinctual urge to attack humans no matter the circumstance.”
“I see,” Eve nodded while stepping to the Huntress side, “and you believe that even their blood is tainted with this infection?”
“I do not think, I know,” the Huntress shook her head, “They attempted to turn me a few times. Sentinel said they injected their Mana into my body through bites. If Mana is something that flows through their bodies, what’s to say it doesn’t reside in their blood? Even vestiges could contain enough Spirit Energy to create a new monster.
The Huntress took a finger and placed it in the coldblood, swirling it around in the thick residue, “Then again, Sentinel said that I ‘destroy’ Mana when it enters my body. Based on that, I should be safe to imbibe these echoes. If I need to fight again, I could use them to improve myself further.”
At Eve’s raised eyebrow, the Huntress laughed, “I know, I know. But there is always room for improvement, Eve.”
The Huntress narrowed her eyes, “Well, here goes nothing.” With one swift movement, she crushed the coldblood in her gloved hand. The sound of glass breaking accompanied the roar of rushing water filled her ears as the echoes flooded her body. She stood stock-still, not even daring to breathe while silently counting backward from ten.
When she didn’t feel anything start growing on her body she let the tension leave her one long sigh. She examined her arms, opening and closing her palms, “No adverse effects so far. I did gain a glimpse of the werewolf’s memories, but nothing more than that.”
“Have you learned anything from them, Good Hunter?”
“Not much,” the Huntress shook her head while reaching for more coldblood, “Most of the memories were things I expected. Images of the werewolf raping a man, or biting a vulnerable woman. Nothing that I didn’t already know, save for one thing.
She gathered together all the clumps on her left observing them for a moment, “They were all normal people. Not Heroes.”
She crushed them, her face contorting into an angry frown as the memories filled her head, “So, they don’t even spare the children. Bastards.” She kept going through the clumps from the normal werewolves, all of them following the same pattern. Just repeated images of sex and rape with brief moments of conversation with their “sisters”, which usually always were about or came back to sex or rape. The cut-off point was always when she cut them down.
She turned her focus to the remaining three clumps. She grabbed the one that belonged to Sara and lifts it to her eyes. She stared at it for a few seconds, briefly wondering what would she see within the memories of a Hero? She crushed the coldblood and focused intently on any new memories she could see. When it was over she sighed while smiling sadly, “So that’s what happened.”
“Good Hunter?” Eve placed a delicate, jointed hand on the Huntress’ shoulder.
“The two Heroes I told you about. Myles and Sara. I know what happened to them,” she gently removed Eve’s hand from her shoulder and picked up the remaining coldblood pools. She started to pace around the room, explaining the memories she saw, “Myles and Sara were novices. They ran off from their home city to both fight the werewolves and get away from Myles’ family. Specifically, his mother. She didn’t like how her son fell in love with a peasant girl, even though the girl was chosen to be a Hero.
“They made it to Pran, got some supplies, then went to track down the pack. They found it but underestimated their numbers. They managed to take shelter in a cave, but not before one of the werewolves managed to bite Sara on her leg. After some time, Sara turned and Myles had to choose. Fight his lover and the pack of werewolves by himself, or surrender and live with her as his wife. He chose the latter. And now look what’s happened to them.
She shook her head, “A tragic fate. One I inflicted upon them. All I can hope is that what I said to Myles gets through to him.” She crushed the clumps in her hands, the expectant memories of the two werewolf children she killed flooding her mind. She turned to Eve, sad smile still on her face, “Things are not turning out as I hoped they would. But, at least I managed to make some friends from that expedition.”
She shrugged and walked to the Doll. She stopped in front of her and knelt while holding her hand out to her companion, “Care to help me test my second theory?”
“Very well. Let the echoes become your strength. Let me stand close,” the Doll stepped forward and placed her hands over the Huntress’ outstretched palm, “now, close your eyes.”
The Huntress did as her friend bade. In moments she felt the powerful wills left behind by the echoes shifting within her body. The first time she did this had felt...strange. It was like having a foreign entity swimming through her sub-conscious. They would float around in a vast expanse of blackness, waiting for the Huntress to will them become something to improve her abilities. All she need do was think of improving herself and the lingering Will would disappear, becoming apart of her.
However, each increase in power she obtained would make the next increase cost more echoes. She never understood why that was the case and Gehrman was never forthcoming with an answer. Her investigations had proven fruitless, so she chalked it up to her own body. Fortifying her body increased its own need for echoes, thus requiring more of them each time. In this case, she found that she had just enough to improve something once. It wasn’t much but she had found that even a single improvement made a world of difference.
She willed the echoes to reinforce her connection with the Arcane forces. Though she did not use the fetishes that called upon the powers of the Stars, her weapon did. She had taken up her mentor’s weapon as both a memento and to prove that she had surpassed him. However, the Blade did not seem to accept her. She could not use any of the phenomenal attacks Gehrman had used against her. Though she was skilled with it, she could never shake the feeling that something was off and perhaps improving her connection to the Stars would fix it. Or the very least offer some clue as to the reason for it.
As the Huntress opened her eyes, she noticed a slight tug against her consciousness. It disappeared the moment she tried to focus on it. It had almost felt like...
She frowned, filing the incident away for later investigation. She stood up and thanked Eve before turning towards the door, “I’ll see you later, Eve. I’m going to go do something I’ve wanted to do since I was a little girl.”
“What would that be, Good Hunter?” Eve tilted her head questioningly.
The Huntress smiled, pulling the bag of seventy thousand gold coins from her shirt pocket. She held up the sack that Jet had tossed onto the ground while she was dealing with the Deltoras up for the Doll to see, “Buying myself a house.”
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The squeaking of its hinges made Brigid Montgomery look up from the ledger on his oak desk. He placed his quill down onto a white frilled cloth to his right, keeping his eyes focused on the red-haired boy who came through the door with a bulging sack in his hand. He leaned back in his chair as the young man marched up to his desk and tossed the brown bag onto the ledger. It jingled as it hit the table, indicating its contents. Brigid didn’t reach for the bag, pushing his hands together while sharp brown eyes looked from it to the white-skinned teen in front of him.
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When he spoke it was with a scratchy, confident tone indicating a life of unhealthy living, “Nick Mercer. Pray tell, what have you dropped onto my desk today?”
“You know damn well what it is,” Nick said with a sneer, his flat nose scrunching up at the pungent smell of alcohol in the room, “Now take it and fuck off for a month like you always do.”
“Still with that temper I see,” Brigid clicks his tongue while pulling the bag of coins towards him, “You need to get that under control.”
“Why? You put up with it just fine,” Nick replied with a roll of his eyes.
Brigid brought out one of the gold coins, turning it around in his hand with a critical eye. He moved it back and forth in his hand while continuing to speak, “That is because I am a very generous and patient Land Lord. I am willing to give you the benefit of the doubt and trust that you will improve. Others might not be as generous. Especially if you behave this way around them.”
“Whatever,” Nick said while turning his back to Brigid, “You’ve got your money. Now stay off our case for a bit.” He started walking back to the door.
“I am curious,” Brigid leaned forward, placing his elbows on his desk with one hand pulling at his black beard, “How is your sister doing?”
Nick stopped, his hands clenching as he turned back to the tanned skinned man, “None of your business.”
“Has she given any thought to my offer?” he continued reveling in Nick’s displeasure, “Does she have an answer for me?”
“Yeah she does,” Nick placed a hand on his chin while looking up at the ceiling in thought, “I believe she said something along the lines of, ‘Fuck off you perverted old bastard.’”
Brigid shook his head, a hand going to his braided hair, “I’d like to hear it from her, please. The condition still stands. If she agrees, then I will waive your rent for as long as she’s employed.”
“Cut the shit!” Nick hit the door behind him with a fist, his teeth grit and eyes ablaze with rage, “Everyone in the slums knows what you do to the girls you ‘employ’! You’re not doing that to Maggie. Not while I’m still breathing!”
Brigid merely stared the young man down with something callousness and annoyance. He placed the bag on his desk, put the coin back, and pushed it to the side, “Understood, Nick. I expect one hundred eighty coins by next month. Please tell your sister I said hello.”
A knock on the door interrupted the indignant response Nick had prepared. He looked at the door behind him then back at Brigid. The older man waved him off dismissively while righting himself in his chair. Nick stared daggers at the Merchant for a few moments, before turning around and opening the door. He pushed past a black-clothed stranger, anger blinding him to the world.
As the door closed, the newcomer looked from the door to the Merchant behind his desk. Brigid shrugged while considering the stranger, his eyes trying to glean any standout features about them. He said, “A troublesome client. No need to worry. What can I do for you?”
“I was hoping you could assist me,” a feminine voice replied as the stranger pulled out a sack much thicker than Nick’s, “I’m looking to purchase a house, and was told to come to you.”
Brigid nodded, surprised at the stranger’s gender. Specifically, her choice of clothing. The women in the town, while modest, were not afraid to show off their bodies. Long skirts and blouses that accentuated the cleavage tended to be the norm, and no one was complaining about that. Least of all him. To wear clothes so restrictive that you could hardly tell if she was a man or a woman? She was likely from outside of Pran, though he didn’t know of a place where that type of clothing was widespread.
“That I am,” he leaned back in his chair, “Brigid Montgomery. Yourself?”
The stranger was silent for two moments. The Land Lord raised an eyebrow questioningly, “Ma’am?” The tricorn hat on her head covered her eyes, preventing him from spotting any change in emotion.
The client, after placing the coin bag on the desk, spoke with slight hesitation, “Cynthia. Cynthia Albion. It a pleasure to meet you.”
She gave a small bow that Brigid returned. It was good to see someone with polite manners. Especially after having to deal with that Mercer boy. He grabbed his quill, dipped it into the inkwell, and pulled out a new scroll page for his ledger. He looked down at the scroll while speaking to Cynthia, “Well, Ms. Albion, I do have a few homes open for purchase. However, you must understand that owning one is not a simple matter. Buying one can be quite expensive,” he couldn’t stop his eyes from glancing at the bag of coins on his desk.
Cynthia tilted her head while waving towards the bag, “I am aware. That is why I made sure to count all seventy thousand gold coins. I wanted to be sure that...are you alright, sir Montgomery?”
Brigid had dropped the quill in his hand, the point of it leaving a black stain on the scroll below him. His mouth was agape in shock, while his hands shook with sudden realization.
The realization that he was dealing with a noble from the Order.
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“And here we are, Mistress Albion,” Brigid stopped in front of a two-story house, its walls painted white.
The Huntress, or Cynthia as the Merchant knew her, examined the house. Unlike many of the buildings around town, this one was made of cut stone. It was near the edge of the town to the east, with a single-window on the second floor below the triangular roof. There were two more on either side of the door, both looking at the small patches of grass that separated it from the main street.
Wordlessly, the Huntress approached the door and placed a hand on it. She caressed its surface, tracing along the small indentation within the wood. “This craftsmanship is...excellent,” she said.
“Indeed,” Brigid walked next to her and indicated the door, his slightly plump body jiggling as he walked, “But please, save your excitement for the inside my lady.”
The Huntress stepped back so the Merchant could open the door. She followed behind him as he detailed the different rooms of the building, stopping in front of each as they passed, “This two-story home comes completely furnished to your liking. All the floors are covered with soft rugs made from hand-woven, knotted yarn. The living room on your right comes with three chairs, curtains, and a small wooden table. The kitchen is to your left and comes with all the utensils and dishes you might need to feed a large group of guests. The dining room is right next to the kitchen with a large wooden table big enough for six people including you.
He stopped at the end of the hallway in front of the stairs, pointing towards a door on the wall to his left, “The privy is there. I shall not go into details for the sake of sensibilities.”
The Huntress raised an eyebrow under her Tricorn hat, though she understood why. How was he to know that she fought her way through a sewer filled with crawling dead bodies? At the time, she figured that was going to be the worst thing she ever did while moving through the city. Oh, how wrong she was.
Brigid started to walk up the steps, the rugs muffling the sound of his feet. The Huntress followed him up, stopping in front of the second-story window. He waved to his left, indicating four doors on both sides of the hallway, “Over here are the guest bedrooms each with a single person bed, one dresser, and a desk for any guest that plan on staying the night.”
He marched to the right, stopping in front of a set of double doors with the same indents as the front door. He stepped aside and nodded to the Huntress. She thanked him as she walked forward and pushed the doors open.
Her mouth went wide behind her bandana as she gazed in amazement at the large room she was presented with. Brigid stepped forward and waved at the entire room, “As you can see, the Master Bedroom is extremely luxurious. The bed is big enough for yourself and at least five others if you wish to bring them, there is a large closet for all your clothes, and a desk complete with quill, inkwell, and parchment if you ever feel the need to write. What do you think, Lady Cynthia? Is everything to your liking?”
The Huntress could only nod as she slowly paced across the room, her eyes roaming the entire space. Based on her observations, the room was big enough to hold at least twenty people before reaching capacity. She took in a deep breath, letting the powerful scent of flowers and cleanliness flood her nose. She let it out slowly in a long, long sigh that felt good to let go. She didn’t look at the Lord before asking, “Yes. Yes, yes it is. Could you...leave me for a moment, sir? I would like to...experience the room a bit more.”
“As you wish,” Brigid bowed, closing the door behind him as he walked out. The Huntress stepped over to the large bed. Its thick covers had a patchwork pattern on them, with a solid white color topped with various quilted symbols and emblems. She paused at its side, removed the glove from her right hand, and slowly pushed down on the fabric. The softness of the bed shot through her arm to her mind, bringing with it the knowledge of the last time she felt something so pliable. Involuntarily, she found herself almost leaping into the bed, digging her face into the equally fluffy pillows. Her hat flew off sending her recently cut short red hair shaking along with her movements.
The feelings she was experiencing weren’t because she was impressed with the building. Though it may have been corrupted or tainted, she had seen far more breathtaking sights back in Yharnam. The cathedrals, catacombs, and more were all crafted with expert hands the likes of which few could match.
No, the emotions welling up inside of her were for a different, much more simple reason.
The fact that this whole house was hers.
For the first time in her life, she had a true home to call her own.
She pinched herself to make sure she wasn’t still in Yharnam. That some Beast hadn’t knocked her out and this was all a false reality her mind had created to keep her sane.
When nothing changed she gripped the pillow and sniffed it again, happiness filling her mind.
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'So, this is Pran?’ the stranger thought as she pushed her wide-brimmed hat down with one hand, placing the other against her hip as she walked. She could feel the various glances men stole at her butt and breasts as they bounced in the breeze. She smiled, spotting a young, red-haired man walk by with his head staring at his feet. She briefly entertained the idea of chasing after him but pushed it to the side...for now. Finding a man could come after she was better established in the community, and ascertained the position of her mother.
The thought of her mother made her shake her head with sadness. ‘Worry not, mother. I will find you, and when I do, I will make you see the error of your ways! Only then can we truly be a family again.’
She placed a hand over her heart as she slowly folded into the masses around her. By the time the sun had set, she was already among them with none the wiser.