“Attention All Gold Ranked Adventurers in the Western Mistveil Region: Contact with the Melisgrad Office has been lost. We are posting a 5 Gold reward for ascertaining the status of the branch office and the city, another 5 Gold for identifying the cause of the disturbance. This is an URGENT COMMISSION.
Notice: You are not to engage or interfere unless absolutely necessary, pull back if threatened. Report to your local Guildmaster for details.”
- Notice on Adventurer’s Guild Job Board - Titled: EMERGENCY POSTING - Deadline: As Soon As Possible
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“That’s…honestly that’s hard to believe. An adventurer maid somehow surviving whatever lies beyond these walls. But, you simply being here I suppose, is proof enough. Very well, Captain Wulfric, see to it she has a fresh change of clothes and some sustenance.” Duke Brynn commanded, his nose upturned in disgust, his lion shaped lapel looking just as disgusted as its owner.
The officer that brought her in replied with a snappy salute, before gesturing for the serjeant and another soldier to drag her away.
“You’ll be staying in cell five for now, for your own safety of course. At least, until we can accurately determine your narrative we would ask that you cooperate so as to not…give the people false hope.” His voice dripped with a venom Sophie had recognized, the courtly type that never quite had patience for the half blooded.
With a grunt, she let the two soldiers take her away, her mind went numb from the barrage of questions. They had forced her to repeat her story a handful of times, though she had omitted most of the stand out moments, it did not help that they yelled in her face, as if she was some apostate witch to be broken. She told them of leaving Carrador, of Harweald and the cult, of the orcs, then of the tribes and of Melisgrad. It was when she mentioned the people of the Frostwind that the Duke seemed agitated, angry even. How curious.
“We’re all stressed out and afraid. My apologies for the Duke’s treatment, traveler. His recent dismissal proved to greatly affect the man, alongside some meetings with the tribes and coupled by his wife’s new pregnancy. It has tested his resolve.” The serjeant muttered.
Sophie grunted, unwilling to sweep things under the rug but understanding nonetheless. The city was dying all around them, so it makes sense to be cautious but still. At least they didn’t shackle me or anything. Shit, what about the crystal? The barrier source as well? Damn.
It was only after being led past the ballroom in the west wing that she felt more sour about the whole experience. Out of the corner of her eye she spied the insides of the magnificent room, packed with well dressed men and women, all decorated with whatever their noble hands could grab. Around them were a gaggle of guards and servants, the occasional one found wandering in the halls carrying the castle’s supplies to the survivors. Even the staff seemed upper class, like lower nobles or well connected burghers. In her eyes perhaps only a few of the knights and soldiers were from those unconnected to the court. Not a single one of the townsfolk was saved huh, just the nobility, how unsurprising.
She didn’t know if it was disappointment or just the pain, but she deflated at the sight, accepting it just as another aspect of life. Her thoughts turned to the shades outside, the empty streets, the destroyed houses and shuddered, so many lost. Yet here lies the castle, secluded from the world outside, and also the epicenter of it all, how unfair.
Her brief pondering of the castle’s state of existence ended when they descended to the castle dungeons. The dank but not horrid conditions were a far cry from the luxury upstairs. She could hear the tired breaths of the other prisoners, the quiet mutterings in the dark that ceased the moment the guards opened the door. The two led her into one of the cells and a third soldier followed along, a ratty if still decadent looking black dress and shorts in his hands. Sullenly, she moved into her new quarters when the serjeant gripped her shoulders and she froze.
The serjeant sighed and turned to one of the shoulders, his shoulders sagging with a hint of pity. “Aiken, take her to sister Brona and have her bathe.”
“Yes serjeant!” The man in question replied.
For Sophie’s part she stiffened at the implication, throughout the interrogation she had been so focused on keeping her story coherent, that she barely registered the looks of disgust and displeasure the Duke and his ducal guards shared. Her face flushed with embarrassment, her own nose dulled by frost had failed to warn her of her current state. It was only the thought of it that brought her back to remember she had in fact wet herself from fear and now squirmed uncomfortably at her soaked garments.
Her eyes met the gaze of the serjeant and though the grizzled man opened his mouth. Her expression must’ve shown what she was thinking though and he quickly pretended to look away. Dejected, she remained quiet until they finally reached a separate hallway and the serjeant and his assistant finally came to a halt.
“Take her and be back in half an hour.” The serjeant nodded.
“Yes sir!” Aiken saluted, roughly dragging Sophie along, “C’mon knife eared witch, let’s get you cleaned up like a normal human eh?” He chirped once the other two were out of earshot. His jovial tone clashed with the scowl on his face, the roughness with which he pulled at her shoulder. Dragged along, she was taken down the east wing of the castle, the ornate if still somewhat rustic decor reminding her a little bit of home.
It was an awkward and silent journey, the soldier clearly desired to be elsewhere away from her. Not helping the fact were the servants and nobles they passed along the way. Though few and far between, the looks they shot here were admittedly far from friendly. Disgust tinged with curiosity was the most common, hatred following close behind from more elderly members of the courtiers. Thus it came as a relief for both of them when they reached one of the rooms on the far side and he handed her the change of clothes.
“Head downstairs, tell Sister Brona you’re to be cleaned up and come back up aye? I’m sure an alf like yourself can get that done at least.” Aiken rolled his eyes, “Now off with ye.”
Sophie nodded and skirted away from him, herself breathing an audible sigh of relief once the door closed behind her. Quietly, she made her way down the almost glossy oaken stairway. Only now did feel something brush up against the side of her head, prompting her to move a hand towards her ear. The wounded and diminutive lily clung on to life, its petals on the verge of life and death due to her extended contact with the lemurach. A small sense of hopelessness ensnared her thoughts, guilt and futility in equal measure as she gently stroked the dying flower. Couldn’t even keep a plant safe, what right do I have to try and stop a cult.
The bottom of the stairway opened up to a large bathhouse of sorts, little luxuries for those with the power to obtain them. But during this siege, most of it seemed to be an empty bar, a small section where an elderly looking nun sat. The nun was fast asleep, face down on her desk, so deeply entrenched with her slumber that Sophie dared not rouse her lest she risked her wrath. Yet there was a small sense of comfort, for on the nun’s robes was a sigil of Astralis, a sign of familiarity that Sophie felt appreciative of. Goddess watch over us, and blessed may we remain by the stars. Muttering her thanks, she quietly stripped and sank into the bath past the nun.
Sophie grimaced as her body made contact with the tepid water. Not quite frigid, but not pleasant in the slightest. Still, she found some joy in that she could wash away the filth of the day, no longer stained by her own fluids. A small sanctuary of peace from the horrors outside, however cold the waters may be, she shuddered, but what happens when that barrier comes down? She shook away the dark thought and continued cleaning, but she couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something sinister was just around the corner, and that she would be right at the center of it.
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Her senses tingled with danger and she quickly opened her eyes. Despite the lukewarm water, she had found bathing enjoyable, enjoyable enough to relax and lose track of time. She had drifted off at some point and was now running at full alertness. Her body was a little more shriveled than she liked but it was the atmosphere around her that she felt had changed the most. What little serenity she had relaxed in had completely gone, replaced by the same oppressive atmosphere from beyond the castle.
She plopped herself beside the bath and held deathly still as the water dripped from her body, the sudden rush covering the almost marble like stone floor with a sheen of water. I don’t see anything out of place so far. Fighting the instinct to shiver, she quickly scrambled over to clothe herself, taking one look at it and despairing as she found her sabre and hacked the dress down to an acceptable length. So much for looking pretty, form over function. With a new black shirt and pants, she snuck back to the pool and picked up the floating lily, placing the now soaked flower back on her ear.
Her toes wiggled uncomfortably and she grimaced as she moved to put her boots on. They had provided clothing but her footwear was unfortunately not considered and, though she had left them in a bucket of soapy water, they still smelled somewhat like pee. Reluctantly she slipped into the very moist boots and recollected herself. She could see nothing amiss, nor hear another malicious, but the doubt still held steadfast within her. Wasting no time, she quickly tied her hair back into a pony tail, her eyes scanning the entirety of the room, only to land at the nun.
Sophie barely breathed, her effort spent making sure each step echoed as quietly as possible on the tiles. Slowly, she crept up on the nun only to notice something odd, a lack of sound. Carefully, she reached one hand out and prodded the nun’s cloaked form, no response. Stepping closer she pulled it back to find the nun long cold, a puddle of blood on her desk, the droplets soaking into her uniform.
Horrified, Sophie jumped backwards and brought her sabre up, scanning the room for any threats. But besides the rippling of water, the squelch of her boots and the drips from her outfit, she neither saw nor heard anything out of the ordinary. I need to pay more attention, stupid Sophie, remember to be alert for anything.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
A small clicking sound echoed from the top of the stairs and Sophie cursed. Just my luck, I better get out of here. Pressing herself against the walls near the nun she managed to spot a slightly more sunken looking tile than the others. With a firm push the door to the servant’s passage popped open beside it and Sophie wasted no time slipping inside, shutting the door behind her. Just like at the estate, side door for the maids, fancy door for Eva’s family. No noble wants to see the buckets of water dripping soap suds on their precious floor tiles.
“Hey elfie.” She could hear the soldier’s voice from the top of the stairs.
Oh shit, he's going to think I’m the murderer.
“Sister Brona? Did you…guard! Guards! I need some back up, we have a murder! Guards!”
Though it got more distant she still winced at the words, wondering if perhaps she should’ve remained behind to explain herself. Not now, focus, get out and find the library. Committing herself to the task at hand, she sighed only for a disturbing thought to pop up, someone murdered the nun, I’m certain she was just sleeping before. But who? They must’ve also seen me in the bath…a set up? I’ve been set up. She frowned at the thought. If someone was already aware of her infiltration and was trying to have her arrested, she would have to be extra vigilant. But no matter, right now I have to find the library and the barrier mechanism, and fast. She thought to herself, taking one step after another into the darkness halls of the servant tunnels.
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The stench of something foul tainted the air inside the servant tunnels, a pungent rot that reminded her of the dead back at the barrows. With a shudder she clenched her hand around her sabre tighter, her nose wrinkled in disgust as she fought the urge to gag. But she was close to her goal, she could feel it. A subtle um of energy that became even more noticeable in the cramped, dark tunnels, taking her from the bathing area to some distant part of the castle. What was just as noticeable however, was the smell, the smell of rot and a distinctive lack of servants actually using the tunnels. Not good.
She bumped and stumbled her way along the dark corridors but eventually could feel the rhythmic hum emerging from somewhere behind a wall. Reluctantly, she began tapping at the walls, searching in vain for a handhold to help open the passageway when she heard a faint crack. Oh? Then another. Oh shit. A loud thud. Oh n-
She landed with a heavy thump, the stone doorway crumbling into little bits around her. A bookshelf blocking the door had evidently suffered first, the tomes having spilled out amongst wooden splinters. The rotted wood gave way to the sudden pressure as the door pushed against it, the door in turn giving way to the half elf behind it. Dazed, she pushed herself up to find herself blinded by a dull yellow glow. Ah! Is this it?! From it, an ominous pressure pulsed rapidly around her, the source of her recent malaise. Shielding her eyes, she looked up to find a large yellow crystal, hovering gently over a strange cylindrical contraption made of metal cogs and gears. Without thinking she reached forward even as the door handles somewhere nearby jiggled rapidly. Her mind struggling to fend off the eerie hum from the crystal. Shit, what do I do?
Sophie froze with indecision, her hand hovering just above the surface, her fingertips tingling with the ticklish sensation from the arcane magics. The door slammed open against the library wall, the sound of tapping feet bursting through. She knew that it was a barrier crystal, a ward but pushed to the extreme, the only thing likely keeping the entirety of the castle safe from the shades. No, she bit down on her lip and slowly retracted her trembling hand, she would be no better than the cultists if she brought forth more suffering.
"Tsk." Crack.
A sudden noise startled her and she spun around to find a dagger flying towards her from the servant's passage. In a fright she jumped to avoid it only to widen her eyes in horror as her palms struck the smooth surface of the crystal. She had barely registered the dark silhouette of a figure in the closing passage doorway when she felt something tugging at her soul. Sophie felt herself being swallowed whole by the crystal, like her very being was being slurped up by some strange crystalline entity only for the image of a dark whip-like tentacle to shatter it into a million pieces. Left with almost no time to react, she could only brace herself as a separate force exploded out of the crystal, shattering it and emitting a pulse so powerful, Sophie was flung off her feet into a bookshelf.
“What the-umpf!” A distressed voice echoed from the other end of the room, before they too were launched by the explosion.
Sophie landed in a flustered heap, the pages and books collapsing over her in a dusty, decrepit pile. The sound of armoured boots quickly drew her attention. A well dressed man, likely a courtier of sorts, wriggled back to his feet with a look of sheer horror on his face.
“The-the barrier!” He yelled.
A cadre of guardsmen strolled through, their eyes less shocked and surprised at the loss of the crystal and more at the half elf smothered in a pile of books.
“Halt criminal! You have violated the pro-” The voice began and Sophie just tuned him out, her ears more concerned by the numerous sounds of weapons being unsheathed.
She groaned, her head lolling forwards for a moment before she could bring her eyes to bear. A half dozen armoured soldiers stood cautiously a few paces in front of her, their golden purple tabards bringing back an unpleasant rumble in her stomach. Lionhunters.
The Meltonian soldiers eyed her warily as she staggered to her feet, the courtier continued to ramble on and on in the background, attracting the attention of a few more nobles wandering in the halls.
Their confusion mirrored hers as she swept her eyes across the dusty library. Shards of yellow lay scattered across the ground, other bits embedded into the wood and books of the library. Yet as the soldiers edged closer, she felt something drop within her stomach. The sense of unease that momentarily dissipated returned in full force, the oppressiveness crushing her into submission with a tinge of something else.
“Fool puppet, your servitude to the ancient one will be punished.” Something growled deep within her, "This transgression will not be forgotten."
Her mind exploded with otherworldly sounds, what little composure she had instantly shattered. It wasn't the entity, but it was, but she was certain it was not. Its words drowned out all thoughts and she dropped to her knees, her hands unwillingly letting loose of the sabre, the blade clattering to the ground.
“Seize her!”
Seeing their opportunity, the Lionhunters dashed forward and Sophie could only writhe in agony as they tackled her back to the ground, their armoured boots knocking the wind out of her chest. Her back ached from the impact, slamming into the books and tiled floor with such force that she found herself stunned from the pain.
“Treacherous wench, what foul sorceries did you perform?!” One of the hunters spat in her face.
A gauntlet crashed into her, the flash of pain pulling her from the noises inside her head.
“Talk! What have you done!?” The hunter yelled.
A sharp chill filled the room and she could tell the others had felt it as well. Nervous glances were cast all around, the soldiers looking at her even more accusatory. The man above her wrapped his gauntlets around her neck, forcefully lifting her up to eye level even.
“What the hells did you do?” He growled.
Sophie felt his grip tighten, her breath slowing as she felt her windpipes being crushed. Then came the tiniest touch, the briefest brush against her skin. Cold. An ethereal wind whipped what lanterns and candles present to a deathly darkness, the room left with only moonlight and the hallway to illuminate it.
“Witch!” The guard yelled and now Sophie felt the press of his gauntlet, the cold steel pushing hard against her frail skin, her bones struggling to maintain form. Then he screamed.
His screams were unlike any other she had ever heard. They sounded guttural, emanating from somewhere deep within him, like a soul crying out. He convulsed, his bones snapping and cracking, the sounds themselves making Sophie’s stomach churn. With one pained gasp, he let go of her and collapsed, the man recoiled and as he shared one last glare at her, his flesh liquified, the bones falling under the pressure of his armour, clattering to the ground.
The others in the room immediately backed away, their fear so potent that Sophie could almost taste it. She slumped down to the floor, coughing and hacking away in a poor attempt to regain her senses when she drowned in noise. There had been a moment of silence, a moment where the onlookers watched in horror at the armoured Lionhunter who was reduced to nothing but bones. Then they began screaming, courtiers, nobles, soldiers alike, screamed. Gut wrenching screams that tore away at her sanity, screams that seemed to only grow in number as the seconds ticked on. Afraid, she huddled against herself, curling up in a ball as she struggled to breathe.
It was only when the screams stopped that she felt another sensation overtake her, she was cold, so very cold. She shivered, the lily in her ear tickled her skin ever so gently, a brief reminder of calm. All before an ethereal hand rested on her arm, the chill bringing back a familiar pain.
“Well done…compatriot.” A high pitched voice cooed condescendingly.
A deathly presence washed over her, the frost taking up a circle around her. The screams of agony turned to screams of fury, ear piercing wails that shook the soul as an onrush of dark figures phased into the castle.
Sophie shivered in place until the noise truly died down, the screams fading into silence with only the groans of the dead remaining. Morbidly curious she finally flickered her eyelids open, wincing at the sight of the lemurach standing above her. Just beyond the creature, she saw the bodies. The Lionhunters and gathered courtiers lay where they fell, nothing but dust and bones.
Her heart dropped at the sight, the dull yellow now inert, cold and lifeless like the people around her. So this was how the town died, consumed by their own shades. Looking up she wondered if the lemurach was about to end her, only to find the creature staring at the doorway, eager to get out. Sensing no ill intent she stood back up, her mind rattled but still sane. Sophie shared a glance with the lemurach who merely cocked its head questioningly.
Crossing her arms in the sign of the High Goddess, she pushed forward, her eyes barely comprehending the myriad of floating figures that looked back with hollowed eyes. The darkened shades were given form, alien to be sure, but form nonetheless. Most were like humans, but with sunken eyes and a maw for a mouth. The unfortunate few took the shape of undead ghouls, their blackened souls fusing with a former member of the living and twisting their limbs into weapons, the skin torn off to reveal sharpened bone, bent at all sorts of unnatural angles.
The once dimly lit corridors had fallen dark, only the ethereal blue glow of the lemurach illuminated the way forward. Bodies drained of life laid here and there, a few dotting the corridors whilst large piles huddled together inside the ballrooms, the last act of Meltonian nobility before they too were consumed. Still, she now understood the relatively bloodless nature of the emptied city, its citizens having been consumed much the same way as its nobility. In the same vein, she also saw the reasons for the barricades and broken windows, for in a side room, she spied one of the turned ghouls feasting away on the remains of a woman. Her belly had been torn open and as it devoured the clump of flesh within. To her horror, she recognized the lion shaped lapel dangling from a torn scrap of bloodied cloth.
Disgusted, she almost retched, the noise of her heaving having attracted the creature’s attention. Yet, as the ghoul threw away its meal and turned to her, the door slammed shut and froze over. Sophie turned to face the disapproving gaze of the lemurach.
“A trivial distraction, must we stop at every room?” Its voice shifted once more, this time fully embracing a more natural sounding pitch that barely resembled Riza’s anymore.
Swallowing her doubt, she managed to force herself to forward, and once more into the breach we go.