Godart

Waking up in a soft, warm bed for once was a welcome experience. The manor even had a bathing room with hot water. Everyone was well-rested, smelling good, and ready to leave. Hawke was still under the weather, but he could finish recovering on the road. The main obstacle to leaving was the fact that Avira wanted to take part in the hunting competition, and Mareth seemed interested in staying for just a bit longer.

Godart decided to use the time to check up on the villagers she tended to last night. It was nice to be able to put her skills to use and help a population of people with issues that had plagued them for months, in some cases. She could have done without the older women constantly asking Godart if she'd marry their sons, though.

The sun still wasn't fully up as Godart left the manor, wiping the sleep from her eyes under the mask. The hunting contest began early so most of the town was awake. It didn't seem very smart to hold something like this so early right after late night drunken reveling, but it wasn't Godart's place to judge.

Brutus was up as well, and when he saw Godart he broke away from the group of men he was speaking to and approached. “Hello Godart, I trust you slept well?”

“Uh, yeah,” Godart said. She wasn't sure how to continue this conversation.

“Good!” Brutus smiled. His nose was still red with the signs of drink. They stood there awkwardly for a moment before he spoke again, “I took the liberty of speaking to the people you treated last night. Their conditions are improved for the most part. Lots of them were able to get a good night's sleep. Martha was complaining about her stomachaches to me for months. Oh, and Hunter's around somewhere. Seems alert, though he told me his head is throbbing. Says he's gonna go hunting.”

“No he isn't, he shouldn't even be up!” Godart exclaimed, “I'll go give him a piece of my mind.”

“I wouldn't. I already told him for one, and he said that if he was conscious he would have denied the aid of a woman.”

Godart ruffled a hand through her hair and sighed, “of course he did.” It was a predicament. As a doctor, she should stop people from endangering her health. On the other hand, if someone was putting themselves in danger knowing the risks, that was on them. Doubly so if they were so mean spirited

“Hey, Godart.” Avira approached, looking awake and excited to hunt.

Godart's heart fluttered a little seeing her, which seemed weird because they were traveling together and all. “Hi!” she said happily, “think you're gonna win today?”

“Damn right. I'm about to show these humans how to really hunt.” She grinned confidently.

Brutus spoke up next, “well, as the judge I'll keep it as unbiased as I can.”

“You're the village priest, eh? Sure you won't be too drunk to judge?” Avira asked.

“I can hold my liquor well,” he replied.

“Mm. You a priest of Argos?” she asked, looking at the triad hanging from his neck.

“You could tell?” Brutus rubbed the nape of his neck.

“Well, I know this region likes him, hence the name of the country. And your triad ends in points,” Avira explained.

“Well educated for a hybrid, aren't you?” Brutus seemed pleasantly surprised. “Are you aware of the message of Argos, in that case?”

“We're not a bunch of bumbling idiots. We just don't think your religion holds weight. I'm aware of the things worshipers of the Immortals believe in, I just doubt that they're actually all that great.”

“Are you saying you don't think they exist?”

“No, they definitely do. I just don't think we should worship them because they want us to. And in Argos' case, valuing conflict is a flawed belief system because conflict shouldn't be the goal: it's a means to an end.”

Brutus looked impressed, if a little annoyed, “I see you've thought this through and come to your own conclusions. Though, you know that your difference of faith is another form of conflict?”

Godart noticed a few kids sneaking up behind Avira. Her wolf ears twitched like she knew they were there, but she otherwise didn't respond. She gave an exasperated sigh in response to Brutus, “this is why I hate priests, always so eager—“ she suddenly yelped out as one of the kid's yanked hard on her tail. The children bolted the moment she turned and she gave chase.

Godart said a silent prayer for the kids and focused back on the priest. Remembering something, she pulled out a rolled up paper. “I made a list of health concerns, treatments, and supplies needed for everyone I saw yesterday. You can read, right?”

“I can read Kathan and Common, aye,” Brutus took the paper and pocketed it. “It was good to have you around. I don't suppose you're planning to be in the region again?”

“I'd like to, but I doubt it,” Godart said, “the country isn't exactly... friendly to women. I hope my research can benefit people who can't access magical healing, such as this village.”

“Noble. I wish you well. If you'll excuse me, though, I have a competition to run,” Brutus told her, “it's been an honor meeting you.”

“Uh... yeah. Y— you too.” Being told that by a paladin was a shock. All Godart was doing was compiling home remedies from around the world and determining their effects. Anyone could do that. The old Plague Doctors did much more important work with less recognition.

Godart jumped as a hand touched her on the shoulder. Swiveling her head, she came face to mask with Mareth's familiar weary smile. “Doing good work, I trust?”

“I guess you could say that,” Godart responded. Something was a little off about Mareth today. He seemed more distracted than usual, and from the corner of her eye it looked like something hazy was floating around him. It was concerning, but Mareth was always up to something. “You doing okay? Your ghost bothering you?”

“A little, but I'm fine.” he glanced upwards for a moment. “She shouldn't be a bother after we leave this town, if I'm predicting correctly.”

“Ominous,” Godart observed, “I shouldn't expect anything less from you, though.”

“Glad you're catching on. It'll likely be fine though, as long as nothing sours the mood.”

“That's good. Hopefully nothing happens,” Godart said, watching the lineup of people waiting for the hunt to start.

#

Avira

Avira stood on the outskirts of the small crowd of hunters as they gathered to hear the lord's speech. He rattled off about honor, glory, valor, and other platitudes she couldn't bother to pay attention to, all while trying to suck his gut in. The others seemed enraptured, as the less educated generally are when they can't look farther than the surface of something.

“He's charismatic, I can give him that,” Archibald spoke from next to her. Suzie, his daughter, was also there. Avira noticed a spear at his side.

“You wouldn't happen to be participating, would you? You can barely walk without assistance,” Avira said.

“Nonsense! The medicine your friend gave me helped a lot with the pain. I'm feeling good today, and I want to go hunting. Besides, Suzie is gonna help me.” He gestured to the rabbit girl, who was clearly nervous.

“I guess she can carry you back when you get tired, eh?”

“I think you're just worried I might bring in a bigger bull than you.”

She scoffed, “as if. An old fart like you couldn't hunt a sloth.”

Suzie spoke up, “well, I'm sure it'll go well,” she laughed nervously.

The speech ended and people started to gear up. A lot of crossbows, bows, firearms, and a few actual weapons like spears, axes, and the occasional sword. This was supposed to be a village of hunters, yet none of them showed the forbearance of a hunter. Everyone was impatient to go as they hurriedly checked their gear and waited for the signal to leave.

The lord of the village made his way over to Archibald in the meanwhile. “Father, I told you I didn't want you to take part. You're too old, and your injuries leave you in no state— “

Archibald cut him off, “last I checked, you weren't my senior and you're the one at fault for my 'injuries'. I'll not wait meekly to die in my bed, Terry.”

“For the last time, refer to me as Terrance in front of others.” He brought his hand to his head in frustration, then addressed Suzie. “Keep him safe, mutt.” He then looked to Avira, “and where's your master?”

“I'm a free hybrid you furless— “

“She's one of our guests.” Archibald put a hand on Avira's shoulder to keep her from saying anything else.

The lord looked at her for another moment before scoffing. He walked back in front of the crowd, and after saying something to the priest, spoke, “the hunt is on!” A few villagers blew horns.

“Good luck,” Avira told Archibald before darting off. Best to get away from the chaos of the crowd quickly, and then get downwind. The forest they were going to hunt in was just across the creek.

Entering a forest again was like a breath of fresh air. Although she had no ancestral connection to this land, the environment was familiar and filled her with energy. She couldn't smell any moose yet, but she already saw the tracks, droppings, and torn velvet hanging from tree branches from moose rubbing the skin off their antlers. She quickly singled out the deepest tracks and correlated them to the highest hanging pieces of velvet.

Hearing people crunching through the leaves nearby she covered the tracks and hurried off, following the hoof prints and stripped bark. Big animals like this were easier to track, especially as recent as these ones seemed to be. Of course, moose also weren't to be underestimated. It would be alert, and if she tipped it off it was gonna either be a chase or a fight. A good knife in its throat and a rake with her claw should be enough to slowly bleed it out.

Carrying something that big might be tough, but the villagers had a team of horses ready. It was as simple as lighting a fire near your kill and waiting. Avira couldn't wait to see the look on the villager's faces when she won the whole contest. They wouldn't even be able to switch out the moose with how Avira hunted.

She caught the distinct scent of a moose at last. The tracks Avira was following were fresh as well, so the musk she smelled was definitely her prey. With her hearing and sense of smell, it wouldn't take much to find it. The problem was that the moose had the same advantages. Her being downwind and her hybrid scent helped with the smell. For the sound, she had to be careful not to break any twigs underfoot and attempt to sound like a natural part of the forest. Avira could imitate the squirrels rustling through the leaves as she walked. She'd been training like this her entire life. Of course, she was usually hunting for her food and not to show up some racists.

She found the moose eating some shrubbery in a clearing. The size of it was breathtaking, as tall as one and a half Avira's. And its antlers! It was hard to believe it wasn't constantly getting them caught on the tree branches. She briefly wondered if it was a special type of moose, like her father was a unique form of wolf. Avira quickly dismissed the idea, though. It was huge, but moose were naturally giant.

The moose didn't seem aware of her, which was good. Avira had to get as close as possible before alerting it, because the moose could kill her in one hit. It was a prime opportunity now that it had its head lowered. Knife in hand, Avira inched closer and closer while watching the moose intently

The moment its nostrils flared and it began to move she darted in. With a burst of force she drove her knife into the thick neck, then gave a grunt as she forced the blade down, slicing through the flesh. Avira couldn't do much more before she had to jump back, narrowly dodging the moose's attempt to gore her with its antlers.

Blood poured from the neck. It was an ideal slice, and the knife hadn't even gotten caught in it. The moose didn't waste a second, turning to run. Avira wasn't having any of it, jolting forth to claw deep into its flank before throwing herself to the ground to dodge a kick before the beast ran.

Avira wasn't worried about losing the moose, moreso that someone might try and steal her kill. They wouldn't succeed, but having to kick someone's ass would end this hunt on a sour note.

She ran at a reasonable pace, the blood and scent of panic leading her with ease. The moose was collapsed against a tree, its chest slowly rising and falling. Avira made sure it wasn't going to kick out at her before stepping forward and sinking her blade into its chest, pushing down with force to reach its heart. A high-pitched exhale escaped the beast's mouth before it went limp.

Avira caught her breath before bowing her head. “May your spirit live on in these woods and your body sustain further life. Thank you.”

She carved a mark onto the tree and wiped the blood and gristle from her blade. Looking around, she could hear and smell some people nearby. It was surprising that none of them came to investigate the sound of a fleeing moose. Then again, it sounded like some sort of struggle was occurring. She also got the distinct smell of another big creature. It definitely wasn't a moose.

Avira quickly put together a fire, making sure it wouldn't burn the forest, and chose to investigate. The closer she got, the more it sounded like a struggle. She quickened her pace and pushed through the trees to reach the source.

Another giant animal. Slightly larger than the moose Avira felled, it was a massive woolly ungulate with a hump and two horns on its snout. It matched her father's description of a woolly rhino, but Avira had never seen one before. A dozen paces in front of the rhino lay Archibald, with Suzie kneeling next to him. The rhino seemed to be passive, likely after laying the old man flat. Archibald was still breathing, albeit shakily.

Suzie noticed Avira and her eyes widened. She almost yelled out at her to help, but a huff from the rhino turned her mute. The rabbit woman gulped nervously as she looked away, knowing enough to not meet the creature's eyes.

Avira had to think. She needed to get Archibald out of here safely. He probably startled the beast and got rammed, which wasn't good. The rhino seemed to have calmed down, but it was too cautious to move. She also didn't want to kill the creature, as she didn't know its role in the ecosystem enough. It didn't seem to be hostile to Avira either, as it had doubtless sensed her yet wasn't charging. It might just leave if they waited.

She heard someone else breaking through the brush nearby, and without pause Hunter jumped out of the foliage, raising a flintlock pistol. “Die, beast!” he yelled out and fired at the rhino.

“You fucking idiotic rube!” Avira yelled out as the shot hit the rhino, who immediately charged at Hunter. The only effect the shot had was renewing its fear and anger.

“Oh shit!” Hunter exclaimed, just barely jumping out of the way as the creature charged past him. He jumped back up and fumbled for his ammo, but Avira was on him in a moment, grabbing him by the collar and roughly tossing him back to where Suzie and Archibald were.

“Get the old man out of here, I'll take care of it. Damned little shit,” she grumbled, facing the rhino as it turned around.

Hunter didn't have many objections other than the usual slurs, so she focused entirely on the beast that was about to charge. Poor thing was probably scared out of its wits.

Avira took a breath and let out a loud yell before running. She heard it charge towards her, running a lot faster than she could. With how big it was, however, it would be slowed down by the low hanging branches and narrow paths between trees. Avira heard a lot of them snapping behind her.

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Running in the opposite direction of the village to ensure that no random hunters tried to take some potshots at the creature, Avira put all she had into leading it away. The further they got, the closer the rhino was. Images flashed in Avira's mind of herself impaled on its horn, encouraging her to keep going.

The wind and branches hit her face. making it hard to see what was up ahead. She just needed to find the right tree, and fast. She was getting tired, though that meant the rhino was as well.

Finally, she found it. A tree thick enough to withstand a ram from the beast, and with branches low enough to grab. Avira used the momentum of her running to jump off a nearby rock and grab a branch, scampering up the tree with wild abandon.

Not wanting another scar on her cheek, she picked a thick branch to hold onto and wrapped around it just in time for a massive boom to ring out as the rhino rammed into it. The tree shook from impact, but Avira was way too full of adrenaline to let go of the branch.

It looked up at her and pressed against the tree with its head, a low creaking ringing out. Being exhausted, the beast decided the threat had passed and plodded away.

Avira took a minute to catch her breath and still her pounding heart. She didn't realize just how scared she'd been until the danger had passed. Tears welled at the corner of her eyes as she sat up, staring out at the forest. In that moment she gave a silent prayer to the spirits of her ancestors, thanking them for looking after her. She didn't speak, because she knew at that point the tears would flow.

#

Mareth

“Damn, if only I could hold a glass right now,” Valisa spoke, standing next to Mareth as they overlooked the continued celebration. She was looking remarkably solid now, bigger too. This last stretch was the most important part of her transition into daemonhood.

“I'm already getting enough glances from people seeing you out of the corner of their eyes. Letting you wave drinks around would get me lynched,” Mareth smiled and waved at a group of kids running past.

“True, they'd probably assume you were casting a spell or something,” Valisa chuckled, “we had one incident like that before, a mage rolled into town looking for runics. Just him doing some identification spells were enough for him to get a beating. We only get them now when we have to send for them after a death.”

“Right, someone has to collect the spirit,” Mareth said, “otherwise they either sit near the body and repeat themselves, the body is burned and they wander around in their normal pattern, or they become something like you,” he addressed Valisa.

“Everyone's avoiding you, you know,” Witness spoke plainly, observing all the hushed whispers and people taking a wide berth around the mage.

“People do that even when I'm not talking to myself,” Mareth told Witness, “so Valisa, let's say you become a perfectly normal, well-balanced daemon. Considering all the different situations you've been around it's highly likely. What are you going to do?”

Valisa thought for a moment, crossing her arms. “Good question. I doubt the villagers will be happy to take me, and I'm a woman so I couldn't really travel on my own. And as much as I'd like to kill that tribal bitch, after traveling around with you lot so long I can... kind of understand how shitty it is to be a hybrid like her. I was considering following you guys on your journey.”

Mareth could tell that small confession took a lot of effort from Valisa. She averted her gaze like an embarrassed child, though at this point she was nearly as tall as Anne. Mareth considered her offer, wondering how Avira would feel knowing her attempted murderer was still around. “You'd have to ask the others, if you're lucid enough when the time comes. Personally, I'm interested in the development of a new daemon. You've already provided me a lot of good info for my research.”

“What are you researching, anyways? Gathering souls, making creatures like Witness, and shackling me don't seem that interconnected.” Valisa was more curious than Mareth gave her credit for.

“Hm. Well, I'll say it has to do with the Ethereal Tear and leave it at that,” Mareth whispered that last part. Best not to remind the villagers of the reason spirits wandered the world.

They stopped talking as a horse trotted into town. It didn't seem to be dragging a moose in the cart behind it, but rather a person. Some commotion was building around the cart. Mareth had to push past a few people before he could see who it was. Valisa gasped as she saw it, as well. Archibald laid on the wagon, barely breathing. Hunter rode with him, as well as Suzie who couldn't help but cry.

Sensing that she was needed, Godart pushed through the crowd and hopped onto the cart. Hunter took offense to this, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, what are you doing?”

Godart shrugged him off, not responding. She looked into Archibald's eyes and spoke to him, “can you speak? Pain in your chest?”

Archibald could only get out a pained grunt, but a tiny nod confirmed her second question.

Godart thought this over before placing a hand on his chest and feeling different sides, seeing what points hurt and feeling how the air was coming in. She leaned down to listen a moment, then turned to the hushed crowd watching, “I need your strongest alcohol and something he can bite down on.”

A murmur rose, some of the villagers rushing off to comply. They returned with various bottles as well as some rags and blocks of wood. Taking a bottle and block, Godart reached to her waist and pulled out a small knife. “Hope you don't like your shirt,” she told him and sliced it down the middle, opening it so she could see his chest.

He was surprisingly well built for such an old man, but she wasn't interested in that. A massive bruise and purple spots around his body caught her eye. She placed the block in his mouth and poured some of the booze onto her dagger before making a small incision between his ribs. Archibald grunted in pain, but the instant she pulled her blade away he took a gasping breath.

Archibald spit the block out. “You fixed me up quick, girl.” He grinned. He still wasn't moving, though.

The crowd cheered as they heard him talk, several pats roughly landing on Godart's back.

“Um...” She looked around at the crowd. The lord had arrived and was looking over the scene with worry, but everyone else seemed happy. She cleared her throat to quiet people then spoke, “I didn't really fix you. You had a collapsed lung which I helped, but you got hit by something massive. I can't really fix the internal damage. With how bad it is, I don't think a potion could either. I'm...” her voice cracked, “s—sorry, but you'll have to say your goodbyes to everyone.”

A hush fell over the people, Archibald's face looking sullen at the news. She shared a glance with Suzie, then looked back to Godart. “Alright dear. Thank you for your help. If you'll all give me space, I'd like to talk to people privately. Suzie first.”

Valisa was devastated, standing near Archibald's wagon with a stunned expression. Mareth let her be, focusing on Godart who was walking towards him. He recognized her hunched posture and wringing hands. She never liked losing people under her care.

“You did good, for what it's worth,” Mareth told her as she passed. She didn't respond, trudging off to the wagon.

Watching her, Mareth didn't notice Valisa float up next to him. She knelt to meet him eye to eye. “You aren't going to absorb his soul, are you?”

He thought about it for a moment. “Most likely. Saves the townspeople the trouble and stops him from being torn apart as fuel for a spell at the hands of another of my kind.”

Anger flashed in Valisa's eyes as she raised her voice, “you can't do that! What if he turns out like me?”

“He won't. Even if he was, I don't have any use for another daemon.”

The anger in her would only be temporary so long as she didn't have any sources to drain it from. He was wary of her turning into a despair daemon, though. One of them could lure whole villages into depression.

Archibald had spoken to his family and the priest was now speaking to him. In the middle of a prayer, the priest paused and sighed. Mareth noticed the telltale wisps forming out of the old man's body. He was dead.

“Dammit...” Hunter spoke, clutching his fist, “I thought the old man would outlive us all.”

“How did he get injured in the first place?” Terrance asked.

Suzie almost spoke, but realized that the only one of the family who listened to her was dead. She was barely keeping herself composed as it was.

Hunter was about to talk, but looked over to see Avira, looking tired as she walked back into town. “It... it was her!” he yelled out and pointed.

“Huh?” Avira asked, looking confused at the sudden accusation.

“Y—yeah! She lured one of those woolly rhinos to where Archibald was hunting, probably angry that he had a hybrid servant!”

“That's not—“ Suzie tried to speak, but Terrance held up a hand to stop her. More murmurs filled the town, escalating hatred towards Avira.

“What the fuck are you talking about?! I lured it away after you pissed it off, asshole!” Avira huffed, crossing her arms.

“Likely story,” one of the villagers spoke, “you think we'd believe some stranger that just wandered into town?”

“How about you actually think about the story, you fucking milksops!” Avira yelled.

This wasn't good. This was a lot of anger and hatred at the absolutely worst time. Valisa's face was contorted in anger, grasping her head and curling up. Mareth backed up as she grew even larger, curled horns sprouting from the sides of her head.

He backed away as fast as he could, pulling his grimoire out of his book bag and flipping it to the correct page. Mareth grasped the amulet hanging from his neck to make sure it was there, and began to read the incantations. This spell was good for three people, so he had to choose wisely.

His chanting instantly silenced the crowd, the unintelligible words pulling at their souls. They would have shot the mage if their attention wasn't immediately turned to the giant red daemon seething in front of them.

Screams rang out as people recognized the daemon for what it was, though only a few people ran. They probably thought Mareth was about to fight it. He continued the chant, focusing hard on the words as they danced on the page, his mind just barely touching on the meaning of the words he was saying, and then as usual those fragments of truth slipped away the moment he finished speaking.

He felt part of his soul tear off the rest, his amulet shaking all the while. It became pure energy which he directed to the sigil on his book. A flash completed the spell, and three globules of magic power blasted out of the book. Each sought and collided with their targets: Mareth, Avira, and Brutus. The slime-like energy tingled as it covered their bodies, then flashed and solidified over them.

It was completed just in time. Valisa outstretched and screamed into the sky, forcing everyone to plug their ears from the sheer volume. The clouds above changed, swirling around the point above Valisa and glowing crimson. The clouds thickened and darkened until the sun's rays were no longer visible, and with a thunderous clap an inferno rained from the sky.

It blanketed the village, a thick layer of velvet fire clinging to everything it could. Around the three people who had received Mareth's protection it avoided, but the villagers were not spared. The blaze clung to them, seeping into them as they struggled and screamed out. The screaming of pain stopped as the flame covered their body, and in turn was replaced by one of rage.

“Witness!” Mareth called.

The spirit materialized next to Mareth, looking at him and then around the village. “This was a very predictable scenario, you know,” Witness spoke plainly, “daemons of balance form very rarely.”

“Just hurry and protect me,” Mareth said, observing Valisa standing up and the villagers starting to attack each other. “We'll help Avira and the paladin if I'm safe.”

“Mm,” Witness grunted in response, standing in front of Mareth to intercept any strikes.

“What in all the fucks is happening!?” Avira exclaimed, eyes wide as she watched the riot in front of her.

“Rage daemon!” Brutus yelled. His body was radiant as he channeled the power of his Immortal, dodging a few strikes and backing away from the crowd. One of the villagers attempted to follow and strike him, but a single punch took the villager down, flames around them disappearing. Brutus dragged him away as the crowd continued to attack each other, some moving to dismantle nearby structures.

“If you can take out the daemon, the villagers will return to normal!” Mareth shouted, jumping back as Valisa slashed at him with her claws.

“You do it, then!” Avira yelled, punching an enraged Hunter in the face. She seemed happy about getting to do that again.

“My magic isn't really useful for that! The spell I used will prevent the daemon's magic from interfering—“ Witness pushed him back as Valisa raked her claws through the air where he'd just been standing. “Oh dear,” he stated, observing that her anger was directed at him.

“Mage, get my spear from the church! Hold it with a cloth!” Brutus yelled, grabbing one of the villagers by the collar and knocking him out with a burst of light.

“Will do,” Mareth spoke in between dodges. This was bothersome. He could only dodge Valisa's strikes by the grace of Witness yanking him out of the way. He couldn't disengage, as it would leave him vulnerable. Nor could he order Witness to attack, as that would leave him vulnerable. Thinking on it as he dodged what would be a mortal blow, he remembered that daemons tend to still have some of their grudges from the realm of the living.

“Hey, that hybrid over there is the one that killed you!” Mareth pointed in the direction of Avira, whose ears perked up while she was in the middle of punching out some of the villagers.

Valisa swiveled to look at the confused hybrid, giving Mareth the chance to bolt. Breaking through the wall of flame, he spotted Kalani and Godart standing together, trying to see anything through the fire. When Mareth burst out they visibly jumped.

“What's going on?!” Kalani asked, following Mareth as he ran towards the church.

“Help me find Brutus's spear! Daemon attack!” Mareth threw open the doors to the church and looked around. Where would he hide a spear in here?”

“Daemon attack?” Godart asked, catching her breath.

“Shouldn't you be able to detect that sort of power long before it manifests into a full daemon?” Kalani asked, leaning into another room to look for the spear.

“Well, I may have caused the problem in the first place. I hypothesized that giving her a wide array of emotional experiences to draw from would make her a daemon more like Anne, but I suppose there's something deeper than that.”

“You—“ Godart stopped herself, taking a breath as she knelt to look under a pier. “We're going to talk about this on the road. Let's hope nobody gets killed.”

Godart's scolding stung, but she was right to be annoyed. They had to clean this mess up quickly. Looking around the church, he thought over where the spear might be hidden. His eyes paused on the Argokath banner. The old priest couldn't be that cheeky, could he?

“Witness, take the banner off,” Mareth spoke to his ghostly familiar as he appeared next to the scholar.

Witness complied, tearing the banner off to reveal a godborne spear in a case behind it.

“Isn't that a little on the nose?” Kalani wondered aloud.

“Very much so,” spoke Godart as she picked the banner from the floor, using it to hold the spear. A godborne spear that had already chosen its wielder was not something you wanted to hold, even with gloves. She handed it to Mareth, emotions unreadable.

“Thanks. Stand by to heal any injured,” Mareth nodded and ran out of the church, towards the still raging fire. Breaking through the wall of the inferno, he took in the scene.

Most of the townspeople were dispatched by Brutus while Avira managed to lead Valisa away. Mareth could see the trail of fire on the ground and assumed they were in the forest.

Brutus knocked the last of the villagers out and laid them down before focusing on Mareth. “That's it. Sorry I didn't tell you where it was. I was preoccupied and I didn't want any of the villagers to hear subconsciously and blow their hands off trying to steal it.”

“Fair enough. Wasn't hard to find anyways.” Mareth shrugged and handed off the spear, careful not to touch the shaft.

“Good. Time to slay this daemon.” Brutus hurried off, following the trail of crimson flame.

“Not going to do much good following,” Mareth muttered to himself as he took in the scene. The damage done to the town was bad, but there were a lot of able-bodied men still in the woods that were almost certainly on their way back. It was best to clear out.

#

Hawke

The moment the commotion began in the village, Kalani ran out while telling him to stay put. It was good advice considering he was still sick. However, Hawke wasn't the type to just sit by and do nothing while other people risked their lives.

He sat up in bed with a grunt, back sore from being bedridden for a day. Hawke was determined to march into town, sword at his hip, and take care of any threat. That was made trickier when he stood and immediately dropped to the floor. He was much too lightheaded for this.

The noble prince held in his vomit, noting that his breath smelled like bile. Perhaps a bath and mint should come before any heroics.

It took fifteen minutes before Hawke had gathered the will to stand and not immediately topple over. His stomach was quelled for now as well. It was finally time to join in on whatever conflict was happening outside.

After getting dressed of course. The clothes he'd been wearing were drenched with sweat. Luckily there was a spare set in the room.

It only took him three tries to get his shirt on correctly, and only two tries to get his pants on. It only took a few more minutes to suppress his vomit again.

Godart was right. If he hadn't relied on magic healing all his life this illness wouldn't be nearly as bad. It was definitely food for thought. Getting some more tea after this would be delightful. He'd have to remember to ask.

He leaned on the wall, treading slowly down the hall and towards the foyer. The servants were nowhere to be seen, an eerie quiet laying over the house. It was broken as the front door flew open, Kalani storming in.

She saw Hawke leaning on the wall, worry flashing in her face before it turned to annoyance. “Why are you not in bed!?” she yelled at him.

Hawke found difficulty phrasing what he was going to say. “Sorry. I got worried.”

Kalani facepalmed and rubbed the bridge of her nose with her talons while sighing. “I'm the one supposed to protect you, princeling. Speaking of, we're leaving posthaste.”

He leaned on Kalani's shoulders as they left the manor, towards the wagon which had been pulled out and was being prepared by Brutus and Mareth. “Why are we leaving? Is it related to that boom we heard in town?”

“Yeah. Our mage summoned a daemon in the middle of town. Avira and Brutus took care of it and the citizens, but the moment they wake up they'll probably lynch us all.”

“Oh. Yeah, good idea to hurry,” he addressed Mareth, “and I suppose we'll have to have a talk with him afterwards.”

“Got your sick friend I see. Anything else you might have forgotten?” the priest asked, glancing nervously back at the town.

“No,” Mareth said, “we kept everything in the wagon. We're ready to go.”

“I'll steer,” Kalani said, “we'll be out of here quick. Hawke, you're going in the back but try not to barf. Godart's already got her hands full.”

Hawke was confused about that, but nodded as he was led to the back of the wagon and helped into it. He sat back against the wall before looking at the others in the wagon, growing instantly worried at what he saw.

Suzie the maid was laid out at the far end of the wagon. Before that laid Avira, had deep gashes across her arms and torso. Godart was trying to heal her to the best of her ability, mask laying on the ground while she worked.

Hawke leaned his head back against the carriage wall. To think that this all happened while he was lying in bed. He definitely didn't feel like a hero anymore.