Mehily was feeling ashamed. Not because she had any particularly good reason too. Indeed, she had every reason to feel relieved instead. Yet it was that shame that stuck.
After sighting the chimeric abomination and letting it escape, the trio had returned all the way to Haralry. Although they could have followed Inquisitor Evmeria’s lead, the Cardinal had to be informed about the happenings. Especially about the involvement of Gabrame, whose true reasons for getting involved in this were still unknown to them.
They may have chosen to instead follow the Sharpshooter, trusting that he may have the Can’t Hide Art. As far as level 50 Arts went, the ones shared amongst people of the same classes, Can’t Hide was fairly typical for Sharpshooters, particularly those that went for dirtier jobs. It had a certain level of infamy, although not so high that Mehily had heard of it before Evmeria had told her about it.
One hit, be it a strafe or a shot right on the money, and a Hunter with that Art could keep his Hunter’s Mark up for any conceivable distance for any amount of time. It wasn’t the most useful thing for dungeon crawling parties, who had more interest in skirmishing strength, but for those after hunting rare game, be it legendary animals or things of a more ethically dubious description, it was perfect. Not every first arrow could kill. Many of the higher level animals that were worth the effort could turn invisible or fly. In those situations, the Hunter’s Mark was as much a necessity as a Scout was to extended dungeon crawling.
If there was a numerical limit to this ability, Mehily did not know and she hadn’t dared to ask. Evmeria had been pissed enough, as Gabrame had first spent the rest of that night drinking like any other, seemingly not bothered whatsoever by his missed shot, and then vanished long before any of them had gotten up.
There was no way for them to catch up and thus the decision to make the report had been made. It had been Mehily who carefully suggested it, Evmeria had agreed, although clearly bothered by her failings, while Berholdth had just grunted in agreement, not bothered to make any decisions outside of combat.
A few days ago, they had arrived in Haralry. The Cardinal had listened to the entire report with a gracious smile on his lips, only interrupted by concerned wrinkles on his forehead once or twice. Then he had dismissed them without any repercussion, telling them to prepare to continue their mission tomorrow.
No punishment had come to her or Berholdth. Evmeria had been punished – by herself. For her failure to capture the slime at first sight, as inaccurate as that saying may have been for the blind Inquisitor, she had retreated to the chamber of Jersoja. Mehily hadn’t seen her since. She presumed she was locked in a similarly fervent prayer as the Priest herself had been before being appointed to the Inquisition.
Since then, Mehily was patrolling the temple, walking past the 33 chambers dedicated to the original gods and sorting her thoughts. Witnesses had said that a naked girl with the wings of a moth had risen from the well amongst the golden light that night. Undoubtedly the angel Aclysia, grown once again. The Cardinal Remezan had guessed that this meant the Divine Quest had been concluded and, after holding conference with the messengers of the gods, had come back to them to confirm it. No Divine Quest of any god was currently active or waiting for someone to take them on, on the leaf of Ctania.
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It was a message he was intent on spreading as soon as possible. Between the death of the instructor who originally had put out the bounty for the creature and with this new development, few adventurers would be interested in pursuing this path further. It worked well for the servants of the church, who were interested in capturing the beast for noble reasons, whose fulfilment were their own reward. Giving them less competition with their own goals would only work for their benefit.
Hopefully Gabrame himself would retreat back into obscurity once he heard that money was out of the equation. ‘Unless he is being paid by someone else?’ Mehily wondered, the Sharpshooter had not gotten involved earlier, there had to be some reason for that. Well, nothing she had to worry about.
Indeed, the thing she found much more horrendous was the idea that this slime thing had completed a divine quest. That was downright blasphemy on the good name of the gods. ‘Would you approve of this, venerated one?’ she thought, finishing her path up the sheer endless corridor that connected all entrances to the individual gods’ chambers.
There was no door to enter the tower dedicated to the Progenitor God. Only a barrier in the shape of a rectangle. Much like his name was unheard by all but the most enlightened priests, it seemed that the original divine of might and magic was barred to be prayed to by mere beginners. She was barely beyond an acolyte.
The first god was one of the greatest mysteries to Mehily. They called them the 33 original gods, yet one of them was called the Progenitor. What made the other 32 original, why were they separated along the seasons while only this nameless god was a god of the rare season of Sorcia. If was somehow even older than the other 32… then what was he that made him so different?
Mehily had a lot of questions like this and they were part of why she decided to follow the path of priesthood. With how hands-off the gods were in guiding them, only giving their followers principles to abide by, seeking answers to the theological mysteries of the world was actually encouraged. Higher levels of the church knew more about things pertaining to what happened in the trunk of the Omniverse. As did some renegades, but Mehily had only disdain for those.
She knew she shouldn’t have, but as she stood before that barrier, her hand began to move towards it. It had an indescribable colour. In one moment, it seemed purple, in another green, then yellow, not actually shifting but simply something her eyes couldn’t properly interpret. People in the church were warned not to mess with things that went beyond their current understanding. Yet, Mehily couldn’t resist. Like the dark hole between the branches, her attention was just sucked in, the world dulled until all she felt was her hand.
Her extended fingers came in contact with the barrier. It was… cold? Was that the right word? Hot may have been just as right. It was something beyond.
Before she could think about it any further there was a whipping sound, a door opening with such force that it smacked against the wall. Mehily turned towards the source of the sound. What came out was Evmeria. Wearing an icy blue robe, the woman’s only sign of her special class were her eyes. Normally hidden by a veil of cloth, two orbs of shining glass met Mehily’s gaze.
Only after a few moments, did it dawn on the Priest to pull her hand away from the barrier. “I-I am sorry,” she hastily stated as the Inquisitor rushed towards her.
Evmeria furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. “Sorry for what?” Mehily was about to answer truthfully, when she realized that the Inquisitor was genuine.
It wasn’t Mehily’s breaking of the rules that had caused the Inquisitor to suddenly break out of her prayer. Although that left the blonde Priest herself confounded, she was saved this time by the blindness of the black-haired woman. Despite sensing the other person around, Evmeria hadn’t been able to see or perceive that she had touched the barrier.
“Never mind that,” the Inquisitor clearly had enough of waiting for an answer. “Get ready, something just changed. The creature has entered the city.”