Cardinal Sin IV: Gather All Storms

The Twenty-Ninth Day of the Second Moon, 873 AD.

Aegan Road, Aegan Hills, Western Dathan.

The road was as dull as he remembered it, but that wasn't something he was worried about. It was a different kind of dull to the monotony of filing away paperwork; where bureaucratic tasks may have felt soul destroying, the dullness of the road as it ran through the woods was a most welcome thing. It was a dullness that brought about a sense of peace, of tranquillity. There was nothing he needed to do here other than walk in a straight line, and as a result he was more than a little pleased with how the outside world still seemed to resonate with him despite all the time he had spent locked away in his city of slate and granite.

Thoughts of Athio led him to thoughts of his destination, Aegos. There was a sense of foreboding about the capital nowadays, and even one such as himself could tell that the plastered-over cracks in their theocratic system were beginning to come apart. Archcardinal Adikos was playing at being a king, but the priesthood of Aegos hadn't the knowledge of feudalism that came with centuries of lordly or regal experience; the balance of power was a shambolic thing that seemed to swing between various parties of interest as fast as solaria raced across the sky, and it brought no comfort to Sin that he was one of those parties of interest. If he fell his cause would suffer a great and terrible blow, the other groups and parties descending on what was left unless someone else could fill his shoes in his ceremonial role.

Ah well, there was little point to dwelling on that right now. At the very least he knew that, if ever something happened to him, Hawk would pick up where he left off. The man might not have had the religious and ceremonial roles Sin did, but at the very least the materials and information available to him would allow the man to do something. Given the lack of rival lieutenants under him Hawk should have almost no competition with seizing control of the city and continuing their operations, albeit with far more difficulty given the increased scrutiny he would be under from Aegos. Sin cared not, and he knew Hawk felt the same. Their job was saving people, and that was the sort of thing that transcended worries of effort or danger.

There were no villages to pass through along this route, no taverns by the side of the road. No, such establishments in such places were only there for profit, for the greed of their owners, and avarice was a sin. The taverns had been torn down, and the villagers sent away to find their lives elsewhere. Sin had believed that to be one of the most baffling pieces of legislation to come about from the decrepit old fools who ran the Most Devout from Aegos yet. At the time he'd wondered where it would end; would the farmers find their fields salted, the price they must pay for enabling others to indulge in gluttony? Would merchants at the docks find their ships of grain and fish turned away on the grounds of both avarice and gluttony? Angels, this whole fucking theocracy was a mess. Thankfully not even the blasted octogenarians in charge had been stupid enough to propose any further monumentally stupid laws, and Sin counted that amongst the few small mercies that he had been able to find in the last two years.

Squinting a little as he looked into the distance he thought he saw a small flame atop the next hill over, little more than a solitary camping fire, but that could have been a trick of the eyes. He hoped that he wouldn't encounter anyone along this road, since that had the potential to see him in a spot of danger. Well, tell a lie, he was admittedly rather looking forwards to seeing Spyridon again. The knowledge that his old friend had only distanced himself because of what he believed Sin to have done meant that he at least had some moral fibre left in him, and if he truly was allowing Sin to establish settlements on the Rocks of Aercad under his nose then he was either ignorant or just as dissatisfied with the status-quo as Sin was. He sincerely hoped was the latter; Spyridon had never been a fool when they were children, and Sin was willing to bet he was still far from being one now. This purging wasn't why Sin had become a priest, and though Spyridon may have been raised from birth to follow this path Sin knew for a fact that this was not why his friend had climbed the ranks of the clergy either. Still, Spyridon had been practically raised by Adikos in his teenage years, just like Sin, and so there was bound to be some small chance that the man truly believed in what he was doing. No, he thought to himself, I refuse to believe my friend would have stooped that low.

With that thought in his mind he realised that he had come to a stop, still staring at that tiny flickering light the next hill over, and so he took another breath of fresh air, smiled a little at the beauty of the outside world, and carried on down the road to Aegos.

Or at least he would of, if the path hadn't been blocked by a hooded figure in front of him. A rather large, rather distinctive looking figure. Sin knew this man, definitely, even if he couldn't put a name to him.

In times like this Sin was very grateful for his cane, for the tool that Hawk jokingly referred to as a 'stick' was on his person at all times, and was almost by design multi-purpose. It was a lovely thing, with a hefty weight and the perfect length for both walking and self-defence. He'd carved it himself from a strait blackthorn stem he'd found as a more stylish means of self-defence, not that he particularly needed one since his reputation made few wish to approach him anymore, but it couldn't hurt to be prepared if needs be. Besides, despite Hawk's misgivings he wasn't aiming to use it to batter his way through armed guards, but to swing at individual soldiers and the occasional crowd of civilians in his way as he fled from danger. A sword would leave only a trail of dead bodies and blood like a breadcrumb trail, but a walking stick? How many men and women required the aid of such an implement in their daily lives? Thousands, certainly. It would allow him to slip away in situations where he otherwise might be caught, which was far more valuable in the urban environments in which he would normally be found.

Annoyingly, this was not one of those environments.

"Speak, friend. I am but a lonely traveller, headed towards the heart of our great and holy state. Speak, and tell me who stands before me."

The man's hood came down, revealing a scarred face and, where the neck met the shoulders, the hint of a mail bevor. Sin grimaced, but made sure to keep his own hood up and his back stooped. A well armoured man, alone on the road, happening to bump into him? He didn't like the sound of this, not at all. Alarm bells were ringing in his head, and the roiling in his gut told him all he needed to know about the situation he was in for.

"I am Ser Ezekiel, wretch. You needn't remove your hood; I know well who you are."

Sin chewed on his lower lip. Ezekiel. Assuming this was the right Ser Ezekiel, then not only was this one of Trios' stooges, but also according to common knowledge a rather good fighter as well. Sin wasn't too worried; he had it on good authority that much of the man's vaunted prowess was the result of a carefully curated image, not the result of any true skill at arms. Still, Sin hadn't lived this long without at least a little paranoia, and he wasn't about to start underestimating a man with a mace clad in mail armour.

Doing his best to appear deferential he stooped lower, holding out his free hand in an open-palmed gesture of peace.

"I know not of what you speak, friend! Tell me, why is it you walk these roads alone?"

"Why do you, wretch?"

Sin smiled, trying to force as much optimism into the words as possible, hoping beyond hope that by some divine providence he could fool this knight and be on his way.

"Why, I have already told you, friend! I am a lone pilgrim, traveling the roads towards our most holy city!"

The knight sneered, looking down his nose at the hooded Cardinal.

"There are no pilgrims from Athio. No-one leaves the sleeping city, not without leave of Cardinal Sin. Not without leave from you. Take off that hood, Cardinal. There's little need to cover yourself now."

Sin froze for a moment, his forced smile falling into a bitter scowl as he stood to his full height and lowered his hood. His grip on his cane shifted, and he passed it from his left to his right hand with as casual a motion as he could manage as adrenaline began to flow through his body. All right then, if this is how we're doing this.

"Tell me, Ser Ezekiel. Why are you on the road to Athio? As far as I'm aware your own master should be in the capital at the moment."

"Indeed he is," the knight said, sneer morphing into a twisted grin, "and he sent me to find you."

Sin and Ezekiel began to circle each other, the Cardinal looking the knight over for any weak points as he continued talking.

"Now, while I'm most touched by your master's concern for my wellbeing, I can find my way to Aegos just fine by myself. The road is short and straight, with few obstacles." Except for you, of course.

"You misunderstand, Father." The man drew his mace from its place on his belt, levelling it at Sin. "Cardinal Trios wants you dead."

Sin's eyebrows flicked upwards as he held his cane up as one would a combat staff, preparing himself from the bout to come.

"Well, I'd expected an attempt on my life at some point in the coming months, but I will admit that I hadn't believed anyone would be brazen enough to attempt to assassinate me before I even managed to set foot inside the capital. Trios must be very worried of our meeting indeed if he's sent his pet dog out to play fetch for him."

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The knight seethed at the words, preparing himself for combat.

"I'll have no more words disparaging my master, wretch. His reasons are his own, and I need not know them. I need only know that it is he who gives me my orders, for under him my soul is safe from the rot and decay of the world."

Sin scoffed again and spat off to the side.

"Trios? Acting pure? Strange, I've heard rumours of late from back alleys and houses of pleasure which he has failed to ban, that he has some very particular tastes in his lays of choice."

Ezekiel took a long step forwards at that barb, visibly making himself ready to lunge at the cardinal in the coming moments. With his opponent sufficiently goaded into anger Sin concentrated on making sure that he did not miss a blind thing in the coming fight, for one missed flicker of the eyes might be all the warning that a blow was on its way, or that a strike was actually a feint. The odds were already stacked against him, and he couldn't risk getting distracted whilst their duel was to begin.

This hardly seems chivalrous at all, Sin thought to himself as he narrowly avoided an overhead strike. I'd have thought that a knight built round his public image would care a little more for the things he pretended to believe in, if for no other reason than the fact that he must have been caught out before now. Rule one of pretending to be something was to act like it even when you believed you were alone, because there was always the risk of someone walking in on you and catching you red handed, or potentially a spy set to track you might catch wind of what you were really like and see through your ruse. Sin and Hawk had broken that rule a lot more than once, but he always liked to think that he was the exception to the rule. He was Cardinal fucking Sin, and he was the best Saints-damned method actor this side of the Ambyr Sea!

His mind moved at a truly wild pace, running through his options in a fraction of a second. He would likely be able to outrun the knight, unless he was mounted. Knowing Sin's luck he would be willing to place a sizable bet on a horse being tethered a little ways away, so he didn't want to take that risk at the moment. His safest course of action was, annoyingly, trying to knock out the man opposing him and put as much distance between the two of them as possible before he woke again.

Actually, the voice in the back of his head whispered, it would be far safer to kill him on the road. You could bury him in the woods! No one would ever even need to know!

Sin didn't want to do that, but it seemed like a pretty good idea. I mean, it's not like you've never listened to me before...

He shook the thought free of his mind. He'd decide whether to kill Ezekiel or leave him by the roadside when he'd knocked the man out cold, and not a moment before. Luckily it seemed as though the one area the man hadn't thought to protect was his head, and so that was where Sin knew he'd need to direct his aim. His sloe-wood cane was strong and tough, yes, but it wouldn't do particularly well against steel armour, be it mail or plate. He'd have to try and get a good hit against the man's head if he wanted to succeed here.

Ezekiel's foot shifted forwards as the mace swung out in a wide arc, the knight seeking to scatter Sin's brains across the woodland around them. Sin moved back half a step, feeling the wind that trailed the blow caress his cheek. He smirked at the knight and moved half a step backwards once more, repeating the movement for the second blow, then a third, then a forth. Sin might have been an abysmal priest, but this he was damned good at. His sermons in the civil war had been boring and uninspiring when based around conventional virtues, but when he called upon his men to fight as though the foemen were as daemons, daemons only they could stop before the world was overrun, the forces under his command were electrified with purpose. Priestly duties were not his forte, no matter his education, but fighting he could do.

With every missed blow the man in front of him became more and more furious, his anger at what must have appeared to him to be an petulant sinner, no pun intended, so casually evading his movements. Sin was more than happy that he hadn't worn any armour; anything heavy would have restricted his movement far too much for something like this and no amount of armour would do more to save him than sidesteps and cleverly timed dodges. After all, what was the point in wearing armour when he didn't plan to be hit?

With every blow the man attempted to land Sin simply moved just enough to avoid being hit, but not so far away as to make a feint worthwhile. Ezekiel was putting too much power behind his swings, there was no way in hell that he'd be able to change the direction of the blow mid-strike, and so Sin felt comfortable in his ability to simply keep on the move. He remained light on his feet, almost bouncing on his toes to make sure that no matter where the blow was aimed he would be able to deftly move out of the danger zone. It was really just a form of dancing, if you stopped to think about it, and whilst he was not a perfect dance partner he had spent a good portion of his formative years being taught dances for travelling shows by a true taskmaster of a matron. Fighting was a form of dancing. He was good at dancing, and better at fighting.

When a particularly close strike brought the now furious Ser Ezekiel within a close enough range Sin swang his cane in a narrow arc, striking hard against the man's temple. Whilst the blow was certainly hard Sin wasn't prepared to throw all his eggs into one basket, and so before Ezekiel could be afforded the time to react Sin quickly stepped forwards and barged the man hard with his shoulder, throwing as much weight as he could behind the blow without losing his balance.

Ezekiel reeled back, looking a little dazed. It was a little annoying that he hadn't been able to force the knight off of his feet, but Sin would take whatever he could get. He'd already landed a solid blow to the man's head, and this cane was hard. Another blow or two like that and any man would certainly be down like a stone. Ezekiel wasn't the first man sin had needed to clobber about the head, nor was he the first to remain standing after the first crashing blow to the temple, but he was perhaps the first to respond with such an animalistic snarl of rage. Spittle flew from his lips as he shouted his curses at the cardinal.

"You fucking reprobate! Why won't you just fucking stand still and die!"

Sin raised an eyebrow, hoping to make the other man as angry as possible.

"I'm not planning on dying anytime soon, sorry about that. This little distraction of yours has been fun, but if it's all the same to you I'll be on my way. I've been summoned by my master, after all."

Once again the man snarled with rage at the implication that his efforts were little more than a childish attempt at fighting. Of course Sin knew it was not so, for he had been stretched to the very limits of his dexterity and athletic abilities to keep himself safe in this short bout. It wasn't like he was at risk of running out of energy and getting sloppy anytime soon, for his style of fighting was designed to conserve energy and expend the reserves of the foe, but it did bring with it a danger all of its own. One misstep, one hairs breadth out of place, and he would be dead before his body even had time to crumple to the floor.

The snarling man in front of him seemed more like an animal than a man, more like a rabid beast than an anointed knight. His eyes barely hid his feral rage, mace-arm shaking with what must have been both anger and exertion, and the knight almost looked as though he were frothing at the mouth. He supposed that when one was as devoted to their master as this one was the mind needed not to think things over for itself, only acting on the whims of the one giving the orders, and so there was no need to act in a manner befitting a human anymore. Well, not when goaded into a rage anyway. That was the key here; if Sin could keep him angry then he could keep him predictable, and if he could keep his opponent predictable then he could keep himself alive.

Ezekiel's next swipe came arcing from Sin's left to his right, but in his rage Ezekiel's movements were a child's play to read; Sin could see the stroke coming from a half-mile away, and in a movement that he would later admit to himself was perhaps just a teensy bit 'extra' he found himself rolling forwards underneath the strike, coming out behind the knight and wheeling himself around to strike hard at the back of his head once more.

Again the knight reeled and let out a pained cry, both his anger and his exertion evident in every heavy breath he took. He was visibly struggling as he turned around to face the cardinal once more, his free hand seeming to instinctively reach behind him and cover the wounded spot on the back of his head. Almost immediately the hand went still as he touched the place Sin had struck, as though the action had sent fresh pain coursing through him. Sin smiled at the sight, and somewhere in the back of his mind he felt that little voice smile as well.

He'll kill us, Sin. You're only doing what you need to do. Kill him.

He really didn't want to kill anyone anymore, but... but he was in the midst of battle, and his blood was running hot once more, and the little voice was right of course I am, Ezekiel was here to kill him. It had to end one way or the other. Kill him!

Sin struck out hard again in a flurry of blows, less accurate by virtue of the sheer number of strikes he was throwing at his opponent in so rapid a succession, but that was all he needed. Ezekiel had hardly been able to get his guard up as Sin lashed out with his cane as hard as he could, this time aiming for the knight's mace-hand. With a sickening crack the hard wood connected with the gloved fingers, an on instinct the man dropped the mace and grabbed the wrist of his injured hand with the other, staring at his now misshapen fingers with wide eyes as he hissed out a pained breath. Sin knew the man wasn't wearing gauntlets, but he'd half expected a pair of mitons to render his blow ineffective. Luckily for him, his opponent seemed to have nought but woollen gloves to cover his hands. A small measure of protection, yes, but almost nothing in the face of a powerful blow.

Most of Sin's blows did little more than stun his opponent for a fraction of a second, but he made sure to never allow the man even a moment of respite. Sin was winning here, and he wasn't going to throw it away by doing something stupid. Ezekiel had begun to curl in on himself somewhat, his body's subconscious reaction to the onslaught that Sin had begun. His head remains unshielded, the voice beckoned. Strike him again. Sin did as the voice commanded, relishing in the flood of happiness that came from doing as he was asked, from acting upon the urges of that little voice. Ezekiel dropped to the floor at the third blow to his head, but whether that was him falling unconscious or just trying to shield himself Sin didn't know.

It's a trick. Hit him again.

The cane rose, and the cane fell.

Again.

Sin swung again with all his strength at Ezekiel, sprawled out on the floor with a glassy look in his eyes.

Again.

He listened.

Again!

He did as he was commanded.

Again!

He did as he was told, like he was supposed to.

AGAIN!

Sin raised the cane once more, then stopped. No. No, he shouldn't be doing this. He wasn't supposed to listen to the voice anymore, not again. He was supposed to have been better than this. Ezekiel lay unmoving on the floor, and so Sin pressed two fingers to his arm to find a pulse. The gentle rhythm of the man's heartbeat could be felt in his wrist, so Sin knew he was still alive. That was... good? He really should kill the man, just to be safe, but... Angels, how could he at the moment? He shouldn't feed into that voice anymore.

He thought back on the sick joy that came from doing as the voice asked of him. No. He couldn't kill a man like this, not when he was already defeated. No, he would instead leave him by the roadside and carry on as fast as he could. He'd pray for forgiveness tonight for giving in to his urges once more, but for now he needed to get out of here.

If Ser Ezekiel happened to be taken by the elements before he woke back up... well, that was none of Sin's business. Yes, that seemed to be a reasonable compromise. If he survived then it would be by the will of the Saints, and who was he to argue with them?

With that last thought in mind he turned and continued walking down the road to Aegos. He hated what Adikos had done, but... but if the man could help him with the voice like he had in the past then surely it was worth at least talking to him in Aegos? Maybe. Maybe not. Sin didn't know anymore. He'd decide when he got there.