“You will return to Starthall,” Gideon said as he walked. “There is no other option.”

“There’s no reason to send us away,” Cliff replied, following along beside him. “Even alone, Sierra and I are more than capable of dealing with the traveler.” Sierra nodded in silent support from where she stood.

“In that case I will have no need for your assistance. You have opened the path and summoned us to this place, and that is enough.” Gideon said. “This order comes directly from the Archbishop. His Grace Kale has called for you specifically, and you will go.”

Cliff stiffened at Gideon’s words. “His Grace agreed that as adventurers, God’s Compass would operate under our own judgement.”

“Mind your tone,” Gideon said. “This is not a punishment.”

“Of course not,” Cliff said, narrowing his eyes at the two Templars walking to Gideon’s other side. “Punishment is being forced into taking the vow of silence and being sent to watch the Executioner clean up your mess.”

“You may not agree with his methods, but as long as you remain a member of the church you will obey the Archbishop’s words.” Gideon said.

Cliff began to retort, but he was stopped by Sierra’s hand on his shoulder, the group coming to a halt. “Enough, Cliff,” she said. Stepping ahead of him, she bowed her head to Gideon. “We will return to rest in Forestry for now. It will still be a while before I can gather the strength to channel teleportation magic again in any case.”

“Very well,” Gideon replied, turning away. “Send word to the church when you arrive. Teleportation is not to be taken lightly, but it’s possible that the Archbishop himself will wish to transport you back to the capital.”

With a tone of finality, Gideon left the two adventurers behind and headed further towards the Arm of the forest. The Templars accompanying him followed closely behind, shields clipped onto their backs but swords drawn and ready.

“A vow of silence?” One of the Templars mused, a female voice sounding from beneath her visored helm. “So he’s still angry about that.”

“Brother Cliff had a harsh childhood,” the other Templar replied. “Although I am glad we were spared such treatment.”

“Both of them did,” Gideon said, turning towards the woman. “Grace, what do you think about this?”

“They have good reason to be resentful of the other knights,” she said. “The guild experiment was meant to let them grow out of that, wasn’t it?”

“That’s not entirely correct,” Gideon said. “The Archbishop-”

The trio was interrupted by a pulse of energy somewhere in the distance behind them. Carried on the barely stirring winds of the forest, distorted screams drifted through the trees.

“Grace,” Gideon said, coming to a halt. “Detect life!”

Grace reached her left hand out in the direction they had felt the pulse, her sword handing loosely in her right. Gathering her mana, she focused her being towards the faint signs of life, feeling them respond. Lifting her head again, she turned towards Gideon.

“It’s the target, and one other.” she said. “Brother Henry is there as well, but somehow faint.”

“The siblings?” Gideon asked.

“They’re close by,” she said. “Moving towards them.”

Gideon immediately reached a hand back into his belt pouch, drawing out another scroll and unfurling it in one swift motion. “Brother John!” he called, holding out his other hand.

John clasped Gideon’s gauntlet in his own, the steel crashing together with a bang. Dropping his sword to the root below, he raised his other hand to press against the scroll, the paper flattening out in the air as if there was an invisible wall beyond it. A moment of stillness passed before John’s hand burst through the other side of the parchment, warmth washing over his body as he poured his mana into the pre-inscribed magic. His mana depleted, John fell to his knees with a crash of steel, panting softly within the confines of his helmet.

“Confirm teleportation,” Gideon said.

“Confirmed,” Grace replied. “The siblings are no longer in the vicinity.”

“Brother Henry?” John asked, head barely raised.

“Henry’s signature has also disappeared,” Grace replied. “Did you also-?”

“No,” Gideon said. “Henry is half-elven, it would have taken all of our energy to move him anywhere.”

Grace reached a hand over to clasp it over John’s shoulder, easing his loss of mana with a portion of her own. “Where has he gone, then?” she asked, looking up at the Executioner. “Where exactly did you send the twins?”

“Not far,” Gideon replied. “We need to finish this before they return, or we will suffer the wrath of the Archbishop himself.”

…

Coin grimaced as he thrust his spear through the side of a small beast, the canine-like creature writhing momentarily and then falling still. Kicking it off the end of his weapon, he watched as Quester knelt down to remove the few crystallized teeth it bore. Throughout the forest, dozens of adventurers repeated the same actions. Quester threw the bloody pieces into the sack he carried, looking up at his companion as he did so.

“This is wrong,” Coin said.

“How so?” Quester asked.

“Look around us.” Coin said, spreading his arms wide. “Is this the work of the guild?”

“The guild receives the requests, and the adventurers move,” Quester replied. “If we are lucky, we will not see that demon again.”

“We shared our camp with that man,” Coin said. “He wasn’t our enemy.”

Quester wiped his hands on the harsh material of the sack, narrowing his eyes as he did. “Demons are the enemy of all living things,” he said. “They are a hunger that knows no bounds. If we allowed it, they would sweep across the lands as the orcs once did.”

“Christoph is a man, not a monster,” Coin said. “It might make you feel better to think otherwise, but no one else shares your denial.”

“No one else shares my past,” Quester said. “You do not know of their kind.”

“Your sister does,” Coin retorted. “She also knows how it feels to be on the other side of this farce. Don’t think that you are the only one who still suffers from your wounds.”

Quester frowned back at Coin. “Don’t-”

“That’s enough.” Ruth’s stern voice silenced the pair. “The common folk do not share our worries, and neither does the church. The guild takes requests, and we move. That is it.”

“Where is Regal?” Quester asked.

“Suffering alone, like Lily is.” Ruth replied. “Regal had made a friend for once – that rock missile isn’t something you should take so lightly. As for Lily…”

Coin opened his mouth to speak, but Ruth held up a hand to stop him. “I understand that this is difficult for you, but each of them is in more pain than the both of you combined, and they need you by their sides.”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Ruth turned away from the two men, looking forwards to where the line of adventurers had advanced further into the forest. “Get it together and don’t fall behind the silver rankers. We may just be here to push him forward, but if he does turn around then it will be our responsibility to stop him, too.” He paused, lifting a hand to point towards a solitary adventurer standing in the distance. “Whatever happens, keep him far away from Sir Dane.”

“We know that,” Coin said. “Can’t have the guild breathing down our neck again about messing up relations with the church.”

The three of them watched as Dane suddenly drew his sword, kneeling down and raising it to his helmet, the tip pointing skyward as the pommel stone began to glow. A dull crack sounded out, causing the nearby adventurers to turn their heads towards the knight as two people appeared from thin air, falling onto the rough wooden surface before leaping back to their feet.

“Dane?” Sierra asked. “Where are we-”

“It’s Henry!” Cliff shouted. “He’s killing Henry!”

…

Christoph’s blinked to clear his vision, but it made no difference how hard he tried. Rising up off his knees, he stumbled slightly as he took to his feet, bare skin slipping on the wet surface of the wood. Lifting a hand, he attempted to wipe his eyes with the back of his arm but only succeeded in smearing warm liquid over his face. Through the blur, he could see the way his arm had been painted with a vibrant red. Shaking his head, he continued to blink until he managed to regain enough of his sight to take in his surroundings.

Looking around, Christoph was relieved to see that the trees were empty, the nearby beast-girl the only sign of life in the area. Emilia’s ears swiveled in his direction as he moved towards where she was lying prone on the tree root, her legs jerking slightly before becoming motionless once more. He knelt down beside her and opened his mouth to talk, but decided against it. Instead he scooped her up in his arms, carrying her down the root and over to the nearest tree trunk. Propping her up against the bark, he squatted down in front of her and brushed her hair off of her face, her fingers twitching as he touched her.

“You still alive?” he asked. The poison trickling from her pouch had a yellowish tinge, and not the green that he had seen on the daggers that had stabbed into him. “Cliff said you had some type of paralysis poison, so I’m guessing this is it.”

Emilia grunted and twitched some more, but didn’t speak.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Christoph said, sitting down on the tree root and looking down at his filthy body with a sigh. His bare torso was covered in blood, only half of which was his. His pants, too, had been reduced to little more than tattered shorts. Clothing would be a priority once he got out of the forest.

“How’s this?” he asked. “Twitch your ears for yes, and your hands for a no.”

The cat-girl didn’t move.

“Do you understand?” he said.

Her ears twitched slightly.

“Okay. If I take you back to your village, can you keep me safe?” Christoph asked.

She twitched her fingers.

“Will you be fine if I leave you here, then?” he said, rubbing at his face with his slightly cleaner left hand. Despite his efforts to clean himself, both his hand and his face came away worse off than they had been before.

Her fingers twitched again, almost balling up into a fist. Reaching out, he straightened them out before sitting back. “The guild is coming,” he asked. Can I leave you in a tree until they get here?”

Both her ears and her fingers twitched at once.

“What does that mean? Do you want me to stay here and look after you or something?” Christoph sighed and ran a hand through his matted hair, almost missing her ears as they twitched.

“You can’t be serious,” he said, lifting her up again. “This can’t be the first time you’ve been hit by your own poison, you’ll just have to deal with it.”

He looked around for a branch low enough to reach but tall enough to keep her away from the few beasts that might wander here from somewhere nearby. How far away were the adventurers anyway? Finding a suitable spot, he dragged her up through the branches by her belt and wedged her limp form into place. Hopefully she’d be noticed before the beasts got to her. Honestly, to be done in by her own poison… didn’t she have some kind of countermeasure against that?

“Isn’t there some kind of antidote you can take?” he asked.

Her fingers twitched in reply.

“Well,” he said. “You’ll just have to wait for the guild then.”

Jumping down, Christoph stretched out his arms, feeling the strength flowing through him. Was Emilia just that light, or had he gotten stronger again? Walking back down the tree root, he bounced on his feet and decided it was the latter. He felt great. Actually, he’d probably never felt so good in his life. Turning around, his empty stomach heaved as he retched uselessly onto the mossy wood, spittle dripping down from his open mouth. Ahead of where he had been walking, a corpse lay staring up into the treetops above with glassy eyes. Steam rose from Henry’s body as it cooled, the glow of mana that lingered in all living things utterly missing from his motionless form.

Standing straight, Christoph blinked again to clear his vision, slowly making his way back up the tree root before stepping over to another and moving on deeper into the forest.

…

Grace propped John up against the trunk of a nearby tree, removing his helmet and crouching down in front of him. His sword was once again resting in its sheath, his shield weighing heavily on his back whenever he shifted against the tree.

“Forgive me for asking you to squander your strength,” Gideon said. “But I still have orders to follow.”

“It’s nothing,” John said. “This is our punishment for allowing the demon to escape the capital.”

“Don’t be so quick to assume responsibility, my son,” Gideon said. “I suspect the Saint might have allowed him to leave on purpose. Not even those chosen by god are above making mistakes.”

Grace removed John’s helmet, splaying her fingers over his head and allowing her inner reserves of mana to somewhat balance out with John’s remaining energy.

“Admirable, but unnecessary,” Gideon said as she helped John to his feet. Ahead of them, the rhythmic sound of footsteps could be heard. “Save your strength for carrying the body.”