----------------------------------------
Sounds of combat wafted out of the highest floors of the Battletower. Many lower-level converts and the countless pilgrims led astray by this charlatan were holed up in the proper ‘dungeon’ tower. And the core army of ranking church Paladins and Clerics slowly, room-by-room cleared it out. Experienced Battlemages led the charge; it was their home turf after all.
Paladin Perarde, ranking church authority responding to this heresy, cast a special Paladin-exclusive spell:
General Perarde Casts:
Spell:
Greater Hush
Effect:
Brings Silence to a Battlefield. Renders Spellcasting Null And Magic-Based Traps Inert. Also Stops Most Forms of Healing. Continuous Healing Over Time and Damage Over Time Not Affected. Lasts for Three Hours.
Description:
It is said that when the Priestess Mia saw the price paid to slay the Demon King, she would neither speak nor make noise again until the holy twins were born.
“…”
All at once even the arid hinterland’s scant dire-insect life seemed to quiet down. When the spell designated that it would ‘bring silence to the battlefield’ it was no exaggeration – a great quiet fell over the entire Battletower.
Camp was established at the far edge of the foothills – out of range of any wayward magic or more conventional artillery from the higher levels, but well within range of that hush field. There was a massive medical tent, mended together from every city militia’s church contingent of healers, deacons, and clerics.
Some patients sat there, receiving vestigial healing courtesy of regeneration spells still working despite the blanket of silence. For others, meanwhile, they received what bandages they could for now, alongside fervent prayers that they didn’t need anything more extensive for the next few hours.
It was in this environment that Calaf stepped in to discover Deaconess Charlotte mending Karol of the Olde Capital’s burns and scuffs the old-fashioned way. The Squire held back, partially out of respect and privacy, partly wondering what even-keeled spiritual guidance his betrothed would offer.
“You were… a companion of my beloved Calaf?” Charlotte asked.
Sniffling and with her voice barely audible, Karol responded. “Yes. We were members of the same party. He signed on with my, well, my brother…”
Charlotte’s face was neutral. She wrapped a bandage around a scalded bit of Karol’s right hand a bit too tight. The poor Crimson Mage flinched.
“I see. Well, it sounds like quite a harrowing ordeal,” Charlotte said softly. “It was incredibly lucky that he survived.”
“My… brother.” Karol’s head drooped. “There was nothing… nothing...”
“Oh, the other Paladin,” Charlotte said absentmindedly. “Yes, it is said he was disintegrated so thoroughly that there was nothing left.”
“Not even his Brand remained.” Karol whimpered.
Charlotte nodded sagely, finishing off the last bandage roll. “Yes. Without a Brand, well, he cannot be commended to the crypts. With no remains to consecrate, well, scriptures are clear. There’s simply no way for your brother to ever come back.”
Karol’s whimpering turned to sobbing.
“Indeed.” Charlotte’s tone of voice remained soft. “Without consecration, that’s truly the end. There’s nothing left.”
Sobbing turned to bawling.
“What’s the point? Of being buried in the crypts? Of awakening one day, if it’s not… if he’s not…”
“But you see.” Charlotte took another roll of bandages and wound them tight around Karol’s Branded arm. “Though you may never see your brother again, and he is denied paradise forever…. There may yet be some role you can serve for the church.”
Charlotte left this statement to hang in the air as she noticed Calaf lingering near the tent flap. In an instant, her expression turned from neutral and plain to smiling softly.
“Ah, hello, my love. I was just finishing up.” Charlotte shot a split-second glance at Karol, still sobbing, and rose to meet Calaf just outside her ward.
“What were you saying?” Calaf cocked his head, curious.
“Oh, just… letting the poor dear know that there will be other duties by which she can refocus after this loss, and better serve the Church.”
Charlotte leaned in close. “Oh, I did miss you, my darling Squire. Yes, you fought well, to put those heretics to the sword.”
“Not well enough.” Calaf sighed.
All of a sudden fatigue caught up to Calaf. The day’s pitched battle had taken its toll.
The Deaconess moved in to hug him, stopped only by her Clerical modesty. “Oh, dear Calaf. Worry not. You did exactly what was necessary. Exactly what faith demands. Exactly what I require of you.”
“I hope so.” Calaf paused. “Is… Karol in there?”
If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
“Her?” Charlotte’s eyes narrowed, and she glanced sideways past the medical tent’s thick fabric. “What of her? She is… stable.”
“I was hoping to hand her some personal effects.”
“Very well.” Charlotte said. “I shall await your return here.”
----------------------------------------
Karol continued to sob uncontrollably. She looked at Calaf with swollen, puffy eyes.
“Are Mikail and Gael there?” she managed.
“They haven’t been by?”
“This whole time I’ve been with.. with…” Karol bawled in place of the deaconess’ name. “Maybe… maybe they’re busy.”
Calaf sat down beside Karol. It hardly took a master thief’s Agility to perceive a pair of eyes staring at them through a gap in the tent’s fabric.
“We wanted to give you this.” Calaf pulled out a trade request.
Calaf
· Melted Metal of A Broken Longsword (x1)
· Exquisite Shield of Fireproofing +2 (x1)
· Gold (x36000)
To:
Karol
· None
“The remains of Jedd’s sword…” Karol said.
“And his shield. Also… the payment for the sellsword party. Both yours and Jedd’s.”
“T-thank you,” Karol managed, knees in her chest. “But… keep the shield. Please.”
Karol accepted the gold and remains of the longsword. She traded the shield back.
“Thank you.” Calaf had been without a weapon and shield since the battle, but any bit of equipment would help.
Wordlessly, Calaf bowed to Karol. He left her to her grief and to nurse her wounds, and returned to Charlotte.
----------------------------------------
Back outside the tent, the deaconess was waiting.
“They’re… saying that there’ll be another march. General Perarde has a new target up north. Further than Firefield. Ah, and that bastard still needs that grin wiped off the remaining half of his face.”
Calaf’s hands balled into fists, trembling in their gauntlets. Charlotte placed two gloved hands upon them.
“There, there. It is no sin to smite the wicked. Neither is there any shame in dying in the defense of the church, your body laid to rest in the crypts for that blessed day.”
The pair touched their foreheads together.
“Yes, go with Sir Perarde.” Charlotte squeezed his hands. “There would be no quest better suited for a Squire. To learn the path of chivalry from the Hammer of Faith. You’ll return to Riverglen exactly how I want you, my dear~”
Charlotte leaned forward and planted a kiss to Calaf’s cheek. The Squire gasped. And on Charlotte’s Interface:
Name:
Charlotte, Deaconess
Rank:
Cleric (Most Holy Church of the Menu)
Level:
48
Status:
500/500 (Kiss-Stealer!)
The holy deaconess had been marked! All would know about this kiss.
“I shall wear this status as a mark of pride,” declared the Deaconess. “Surely even a Cleric must be allowed a lapse in judgment in this moment of passion.”
Calaf held a hand up to his cheek. It was still warm.
“Go, dear Calaf.” Charlotte glanced away, demure. “Continue your journey. Uphold chivalry for the good of the church.”
Calaf grimaced. He felt the urge to march on, further than he’d ever traveled along the pilgrimage route before. But he also really wanted to just return to Riverglen with Charlotte at this point.
Charlotte smiled. “Do it, Calaf. Go. Just as I say, without question.”
“Will you be coming with?”
“Soon.” Charlotte closed her eyes. “I must remain here, tending to and grooming my patient for the next phase of what is to come. But go. If we do not meet again at Autumn’s Redoubt, I shall return to Riverglen and await your arrival as long as it takes. Our betrothal shall be completed just as soon as you return, my dear!”
Calaf leaned in.
“Oh.” Charlotte held her hands up to her cheeks. “There’s no need for you too to bear this status. Why, if we both walk back into the camp marked as kiss-stealers, why, people will talk…”
----------------------------------------
Jedd had carried the group’s Campsite items. It was part and parcel of being the party leader. With him gone, leadership duties technically fell to Karol, who was in no position to exercise that authority. Karol had swapped this role over to Mikail before she had been sent to medical. The team Vanguard had promptly disbanded the party.
“Aye, they want me to stay here, lad.” Gael huffed and puffed at his private campsite. “Come tomorrow I shall continue to clear out the higher floors of the Battletower. There are so many trap doors and false walls that people can be hiding out there for months. Even years!”
“I see.” Calaf exhaled. “Mikail took his pay and said he’d head back towards Port Town after paying Karol a visit.”
“Stopped by the tent. That deaconess was still tending to her. Didn’t seem to like being disturbed.”
“Tell her I sent you,” Calaf said, blushing at the thought of Charlotte’s impromptu kiss.
“You got his shield?” Gael said after a time.
Calaf opened his Inventory:
Item: Exquisite Shield of Fireproofing +2 (x1)
Description: A Tower Shield of Finest Craftmanship. Granting 100% Physical and 100% Fire Resistance. 50% to All Other Resistances. The Front-End is Scuffed and Charred from a Hellflare. Perhaps its Next Owner Will Have Better Luck? (Requires: 40 STR, 65 END)
Gael let out an impressed whistle. “Looks like it’s just within your stat range, eh? May it serve ye well.”
“Yes.” Calaf said, tired. “I’ll… I’ll make him proud.”
----------------------------------------
Calaf did not Use a campsite that night. He did not have time for a proper sleep, instead just resting his eyes. The field of silence wore off after a time, during which proper healing magic could be applied to the many injured. The medical tent was once more abuzz with Clerics of all sorts, and Calaf dared not try to visit Charlotte again.
Before dawn, a line of Paladins all level sixty and above assembled at the north edge of camp. Smoke rose from the Battletower’s higher floors as the cleanup continued apace. But there at the edge of the foothills stood Perarde, Hammer of Faith.
“Good. I was going to send out a direct holy summons ordering you to come,” Perarde said. “But it seems we have a volunteer.”
The General stood looking north, silhouetted by the burning tower.
“Fall in line. There’ll be room in the back row.” Again, Perarde did not look at Calaf. “Oh, and we’ll be stopping briefly at a mountain supply depot on the way. Get an at-level spear while we’re there.”
“Where are we going?” Calaf asked.
“To Fort Duran of course.” Perarde paused for Calaf to soak it in. “Once we’ve cleansed it of heresy, you should grab a dozen pieces of Rampart Rubble from atop the keep. It’ll save you a great deal of effort when it comes time to reclass. The heart of this heresy has not yet been hunted down. But my fellow Church Hunters are on the trail. No mortal ever withstands our might for long.”
“How… how may I help?” Calaf asked.
Perhaps if this could be ended quickly and soon, there would be less suffering. And of course, he wanted to get his gauntlets around Honest John’s throat.
Perarde seemed to sense his thoughts. “This front was for patsies and small fry. A minor skirmish in the grand scheme of things. Elements of the old nobility seek to foment a far larger rebellion. But, if we can decapitate their leadership… well, perhaps we can enforce the Church’s will more subtly.”
A fresh explosion bloomed from atop the Battletower. Free of the magic-nullifying field, it seems these aspiring Cultivators were still resisting.
“Once the initial hammer blows force everything into place, more gentle taps can occasionally be required. That is what I hope to use you for, as it stands...”
Another Squire approached from the direction of the tower.
“Sir, the Port Town church contingent wishes to confirm your orders for surrender-”
“No quarter,” Perarde said simply. “Apostasy has consequences, and rebels must pay the price. Collect all heretical baubles that can be found for transport to the Southern Spire Monastery.”
“Sir, there are-”
“No quarter,” Perarde repeated with calm and collected tenor. “Everyone else, move out.”
Calaf quickly fell into line in the sole remaining open space at the formation’s end. He was alone, the sole level 40 next to identical level 60+ Paladins in the full plate armor of the furthest north pilgrimage stations of the Olde Capital and Fellmarsh.
----------------------------------------