“Bless your soul.” Father Molt held his hand over the adventurer’s head as he lay unconscious on the plain straw bed. The man was unmoving, but when the priest lifted his hand away it seemed that his face had brightened nonetheless.
“Father Molt,” a small voice called out. Molt turned towards the youth that stood beside him, looking down at the child as he spoke. “Why do the adventurers come here so much?” the boy asked. “Do they let themselves get hurt?”
“No, my boy,” he said with a chuckle. “I’d dare say that there has never been an adventurer who let themselves get hurt on purpose.” He waved his hand over the room. The many beds were almost all occupied, and almost all of the barely-moving forms that occupied them were adventurers.
“Look around, Henry,” he said. “The adventurers are the knights of the people. They keep the beasts away from the towns so everyone else can be safe. The adventurers get hurt because they don’t want us to be in danger.”
Molt paused for a moment before smiling down at the young boy. “Your mother was an adventurer too, you know?”
Henry looked back up at the priest with wide eyes. “Did she protect a lot of people as well?” he asked. A single tear ran down Molt’s face as the half-elf boy stood waiting for his answer.
“Yes she did,” he replied. “Your mother protected more people than you could imagine.” There was a thud as the wooden door to the room swung open, an older boy stepping through.
“Father,” a young Dane called. “There are more injured coming – I saw brother Claude leading them from the bell tower.”
…
“This is not a matter that the church can afford to be divided on,” Lucius said. “We serve the same lord. I understand that the Church of the Creator’s Willful does not regard me with the same reverence that the Creator’s Blessed does, but even so I have met with our god, and he has given me this task.”
Father Molt sighed as he looked around the room. Although the number of beds in the room had increased since that time, almost all of them lay empty and unused.
“Is something the matter?” Lucius asked, cocking his head as the priest withdrew his hand from the man lying on the bed.
“It’s nothing,” he said. “He will be well by morning. I was just remembering a more troubling time.”
“Is this situation not troublesome enough for you, father?” Lucius asked.
Molt shook his head. “This excitement is concerning, but I do not sense the same danger from that man as you do.” He turned from the bed, leaving the hospital to walk through the church yard, the noonday sun warm above.
“Truthfully, I had wanted to help him, but not at the cost of our species. The threat lies in his knowledge,” Lucius replied. “The circumstances of his existence don’t matter to me. But are your children not in danger this time?”
Molt paused, glancing back at the young man before continuing to walk. “Dane is safe and well, that much I know. Henry can be difficult at times, but I trust that he’ll keep safe.” He slowed his pace, and Lucius was soon walking alongside him.
“Even more so, I trust him to do the right thing,” Molt said. “Even if I don’t always agree with his judgement.”
“Normally such differences in belief would be a cause for concern,” Lucius said. “There also aren’t many fathers who would be so calm when their son is in danger.”
Molt stopped, turning towards Lucius with a bow. “I will keep your words in mind,” he said. “Even if we do not see you as a living saint, your knowledge is undeniable, as is your connection to our god. But for now, please excuse me. I have something I must do.”
Lucius looked up at the building they had stopped before, a large bell sitting on the top of the tower. “Is there some problem with the belfry?” he asked.
Molt looked up at the tower, reaching over to open the doorway leading to the stairwell. “There is,” he said. “My sons are not sitting at the top of it.”
Pulling the door closed behind him, Father Molt left Lucius behind as he climbed the stairs alone. Lucius tilted his head to one side, silently watching through the brick as the priest took each step. Looking upwards, he gazed into the sky as the sun moved towards the horizon.
“Lord Progress,” he said, his words ringing out unheard within the church yard. “Every person I meet in this world seems so convinced that they are doing the right thing. How can I be sure that they are wrong?”
…
Henry launched a flurry of strikes at his opponent, driving her back with each touch of their blades. Emilia gritted her teeth as she moved, and he felt the subtle warmth of her mana flaring as she channeled more energy into her body. Catching her blows with the sword in his left hand and the dagger in his right, he kicked out at her wounded leg, forcing her to a knee for a moment before stepping back to avoid her slash at his own limbs.
Emilia leaped towards him, the sheer speed of her attacks enough to put Henry on the back foot until he was able to pull off a well-timed counter. The cat-girl halted her attacks to dodge his blade and they separated for a moment, each panting for breath.
“You’re running out of stamina, elf.” Emilia grinned at the adventurer.
“At least it isn’t blood I’m missing,” Henry replied. “Give up while you can, I’ll ask no prize of you for this duel.”
“Don’t look down on me, crossbreed,” she hissed. “One nick from my blades and this fight is over.”
Henry took a breath and adjusted his stance, swapping his weapons back into their correct hands. Keeping the shorter blade in his right had been ideal for defense, but that was not what he had in mind. “Very well,” he said. “I became an adventurer to save people, but if you are set on going after my life, I will do the same.”
With those words, Henry took the offensive, leading with his sword and keeping Emilia at a distance where his thrusts would be the most effective. The beast-girl growled and parried his attacks, but each time she tried to move inside his range she was met by the point of his blade, the half-elf pouring all of his effort into swordplay alone. Both the dagger in his left hand and Emilia’s two blades were too short to connect at this range, none of them posing a threat as long as she couldn’t close the distance. Drawing more and more strength into her body, she forced herself to move faster, but it wasn’t enough. Henry’s sword seemed to glide back into place after each parry, and the wound in her thigh still ached, blood slowly dribbling out to mat in the grey fur of her leg.
Backing up, she scowled at the adventurer with distaste. “You didn’t fight half as well before,” she said. “Why are you trying so hard this time?”
“We aren’t fighting for a lump of meat anymore,” Henry replied. “This is bigger than us now. Both the church and the guild have gotten involved, and I can’t let you just make a mess out of everything.”
…
Christoph wiped his hands on the tree root as he approached, the metallic ring of a duel sounding over the forest ahead. He’d paused his flight to snatch up a meal, the weight of the beast already fading from his stomach as his hunger grew again. As he edged closer, the blazing flare of mana he’d seen soon resolved into Emilia’s familiar form. She burned brighter than he had seen her so far, but even so she was being pushed back with each moment. Henry bore a grim expression as he fought, each strike of his sword precise, each footstep exact, his right hand a blur of motion as he used it to overcome the beast-girl’s dual blades.
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Emilia’s ears flattened against her head, her daggers never fast enough despite the amount of mana she was channeling though her arms. If only she could break past his sword once more! It would only take a shallow cut to end this fight, but her daggers never came close to breaking her opponent’s skin. With each step back Henry fell further out of range of her daggers, the point of his sword keeping her at bay whenever she tried to make an advance.
“It’s over,” Henry said. “You will never lay a blade on me, and I have no wish to kill you. Give up.”
“There’s no way that’ll ever happen,” Emilia replied through her panting. “I’ll win this fight, and then I’ll win the next one, and then I’ll drag the both of you back to the village with me.”
Catching her breath, she rushed the half-elf. He aimed a thrust towards her leading leg, wary of the position of her two daggers and ready to push past her parries. Instead of trying to avoid the attack, however, Emilia surged forwards with a grin. Even if it cost her another leg wound, there’s no way Henry could deflect both her daggers with only the short blade in his left hand. Watching from the trees, Christoph readied his own blade. This duel would not last much longer.
Instead of piercing her leg with his sword, however, Henry grinned in turn as he withdrew the slim blade to parry both of her slashes with his sword alone. His left hand darted forwards, stabbing into her hip as she twisted her body away from his attack. Before either of the combatants had a chance to continue their chain of counters, Christoph appeared between them.
Slashing out with his sword, Christoph narrowly missed Henry’s arm, the crystal blade instead crashing into the half-elf’s dagger and blowing it out of his hand entirely. The three of them leaped backwards almost at the same time, forming a wary circle on the wide surface of the tree root.
“You’ve finally shown yourself,” Henry said.
“Don’t interrupt!” Emilia hissed. “This duel is between me and the half-blood.”
Christoph tried to look sheepish as he faced the beast-girl. “Ah, sorry about that,” he said. “Actually, I was hoping that you’d guide me through the beast lands if I saved your life.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped. “After I beat this slippery bastard, you’re next.”
“It’s too late for that,” Henry said, gesturing with his sword. “look.”
Emilia frowned as she looked down to where he had pointed. A trickle of blood was dripping from the shallow wound in her hip, but above that another stream of liquid was shining in the low light of the forest. Rather than red, it was a dark yellow liquid that oozed from the punctured pouch at her waist.
“The poison,” she said. “How did you…”
Emilia dropped to her knees, holding a hand to her side as she slowly toppled over onto the mossy wood. “Where you aiming for that?” she asked, ears twitching as her eyes eased shut.
“I was,” Henry replied, turning his head towards Christoph. “An adventurer should protect people, not kill them.”
“I suppose I’m an exception to that rule,” Christoph replied. “I get death, she gets to sleep it off?”
“You’re correct,” Henry said. “But then again, I’m not sure if you really qualify as a person, either.”
Raising his sword, the adventurer dashed across the gap, thrusting his sword through Christoph’s shoulder before he had a chance to react. Another three strikes landed before Christoph was able to counter, his sword slashing through the air where Henry had been a moment before.
“You really are hard to kill,” Henry said.
It was Christoph’s turn to attack, his blade arcing out to slash at Henry with dazzling speed. The half elf became a blur as he parried the blows, thrusting his own sword into Christoph’s torso twice more before backing out of range again.
Christoph staggered slightly before his wounds began to heal, his hunger growing deeper with each spark of mana that disappeared as he regenerated. If he had been an ordinary human, he would have died many times already. Was this the strength of a swordsman?
“Do you really hate me that much?” he asked the adventurer. “I never asked for this, you know?”
Henry ignored him, closing in again and stabbing his blade through Christoph’s leg. Withdrawing to avoid the crystal blade’s retaliation, he stabbed his sword into Christoph arm this time. Reabsorbing the crystal blade in an instant, Christoph closed his hand around the sword before Henry had the chance to pull it back, turning his body to snap the thin steel blade with a crack.
Bowling into the half-elf, Christoph dragged him down into a tackle, re-forming his sword and swinging his arm back in preparation for an attack. At the same time, a burst of pain exploded into his torso. Looking down, he saw a familiar knife sticking from between his ribs.
“It’s the knife that Emilia gave you the first time you met,” Henry said, pushing Christoph to the side and standing back over him. “Ordinarily, the blood would have washed most of the poison off, but Cliff has a way around those things. It might be unfair, but you can just think of it as the power of friendship.”
He kicked Christoph over, rolling him onto his back. “You know, I really do think that adventurers should protect people. There nothing I want more right now than to end your life right here, but I won’t do that.” He shrugged apologetically. “The church will probably end up executing you anyway.”
Gasping on the wooden root, Christoph felt the surging pressure begin to build up in his body. “No,” he said.
“I’m afraid so,” Henry replied, turning away from him to look deeper into the forest. “You asked if I hated you? The Guardian….” He glanced back at where Christoph lay gasping, and Christoph could see the tears forming in his eyes. “I would have killed you if I had known, that first day. Even now…”
He knelt down besides Christoph, grasping Christoph’s hair in his hand so he could look into his eyes. “I do hate you, but my father would be disappointed if if I killed you here, so I’ll wait for the Executioner.”
“No,” Christoph repeated, wrapping his hand around Henry’s arm. “I can’t die here.”
Henry’s eyes widened in surprise as the unicorn horn slid into his chest, blood bubbling out of his mouth as Christoph looked up towards him.
“I’m sorry,” Christoph said, feeling Henry’s mana flowing into him through the crystal blade. There was a pulse as the poison blossomed into pain throughout his body, and then screams began to ring out over the forest floor.