Elscer took a sip of the cheap wine, cringing at the flavor. It wasn’t the worst wine he had tasted... he didn’t think so, at least. But it was far from the best.

“How have the Count’s men been treating you?” Elscer asked.

“They tend to stay away from the chapel,” Father Heneroe said. “They’re all ‘men of the Faith’, the kind that will invoke the Spirit’s name when they stub their toes, and nothing more. I have gotten a few donations in exchange for blessings of safety, however.”

“And?” Elscer asked, “Did you bless them?”

Heneroe gave a deep chuckle from his belly, the wineglass shaking in his hand. “I told them what I tell everyone, that the Spirits’ wills are their own, and that they will do what they see fit, but that I will plead for safety nonetheless.”

Elscer laughed, and raised his glass to the priest. “You really are a scholar, aren’t you?”

Heneroe nodded, sipping from his glass from behind his collection of chins. “I studied the faith in Longarm, and always had a penchant for philosophy. I always did quite well in my curricula.”

Elscer took another sip of wine, wincing as if it were liquor. “But you didn’t just study the Faith, did you? Where did you learn the Pagan side from?”

Heneroe smiled, a bright, warm grin the pulled his entire face into the expression. “That wasn’t learned in Longarm. That, I learned from my years working in villages like this. A lot of superstition is nonsense, but there is a very important truth to some of it.”

Elscer laughed like a man on the gallows. “I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough.”

They both raised their glasses to each other, taking a long drink. Elscer’s face bunched up as he set the glass down. It wasn’t the Father’s fault that his taste for wines wasn’t as refined as Elscer’s.

“I know you’re already doing a lot by letting me stay here,” Elscer said, “But may I ask a little more?”

Heneroe bowed his head. “If it is within mine or the Spirits’ powers, it will be done.”

Elscer nodded, standing up. “I’m doing some more research on that curse you were telling me about, the Wild Prince. I’d like to do some more research on it, to see who might have cast it and why.”

Heneroe nodded, rising slowly onto his old legs, using the arm rests of the chair for balance.

“A wise course of action, given your worries. I believe I have a few old books of witchcraft somewhere in my library...” he said, his voice trailing off.

Elscer smiled. “Quite heretical for a priest,”

Heneroe laughed another laugh deep from his sizable belly. “I consider myself a custodian of the history of philosophies and cultures more than a Priest, but people ask for my blessings nonetheless.”

Heneroe led Elscer over to the staircase leading down to the library. As the pair descended the stone steps, Elscer spoke.

“Life is a strange thing,” he said. “Years ago, what feels like a lifetime in the past, I used to hunt down heretics. Now I work alongside more of them than I do men of the Faith.”

“Strange thing, fate is.” Heneroe said. “Takes you places you never imagined.”

The pair stepped into the library. It was a modest size, quite large for a chapel of this level of prominence. Heneroe had always been a collector, however, and had put a large amount of local donations into expanding the library.

“Please, make yourself comfortable while I search for the tome,” the Father said as he began to peruse the shelves. Elscer decided to do the same, reading some of the titles. After reading a few of the titles, he finally found one that stuck out to him.

Lineage of the God Drinkers

This piqued Elscer’s interest, as it pinged a memory from his studies of the ancient mythologies. It was widely believed across Ulthuar that when the nation was in its infancy, the First Kings went to war with the Ancient Gods. Surprisingly enough, the mortals won, slaying the Ancient Gods, leaving only their Spirits behind. The First Kings drank the ichor of the gods, gaining some of their divine presence. This ichor-touched royal blood was passed down the generations of kings and nobles, with the current royal family still being believed to have been descendants of the first King to drink the ichor of the gods.

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That caught his interest. He pulled the book out, and began reading through it, trying to decipher the pages. The book was positively ancient, and the last time it had been updated was nearly 200 years ago. However, he only needed a single name. After searching the book, he finally found it.

Treimier Argauth

Elscer double checked his work, but he was certain of it. Treimier Argauth, the ancestor of the current Count Argath and Talen Argath. Argath wasn’t simply of noble blood... He was distantly of royal blood, godly blood. It was weak and diluted, but it was there.

That meant the Wild Prince would be far more powerful and potent than simple noble blood. That... complicated things.

Things were finally starting to fall into place for Elscer. This situation was getting more complex, and he was worried it wouldn’t stop there.

Heneroe finally waddled around the corner, an old leatherbound tome in his hands.

“Father,” Elscer asked. “Do you know which sect of witches the curse came from?”

“From my studies,” Heneroe said, setting the tome down on the table, “I believe it came from the Red Wraith Coven, of course translating from ancient dialects-”

“And these Red Wraiths,” Elscer asked, pacing as he thought. “Did they worship the moon at all?”

Heneroe sat down and thought for a moment. “I believe they did, their magic was tied directly to the moon’s phases, which is a common theme among many cov-”

“It’s been a while since I’ve studied the moon charts,” Elscer said. “Are there any lunar events coming up? Like a lunar eclipse?”

Heneroe thought for a moment. “I do believe there is a lunar eclipse next month.”

Elscer stopped in his tracks. When was Lanya due? Did it even matter when common medical wisdom thought she should be due? This wasn’t a normal pregnancy, so the rules could be bent and broken as needed.

A Wild Prince, of godly blood, born on a lunar eclipse...

This was trouble. Someone either knew what they were doing, or was extremely lucky. If there was a witch who was able to coordinate all this...

If someone could coordinate this... Who would it be?

Elscer’s mind raced. He had so many more things to consider. He had promised Lanya that he would ensure that the child would be safe, but... Could he allow such a powerful creature to live?

Elscer’s thoughts were cut off by the sound of a door slamming open and voices shouting from up the staircase.

Heneroe chuckled. “I believe I have some overeager visitors,” he said, as he began to stand up.

“I don’t think they’re here for you,” Elscer said, guessing who had barged into the chapel.

Elscer walked back up the staircase, Heneroe waddling behind him, quickly falling behind. He was soon back up in the main hall of the chapel, where he saw Talen Argath, flanked by some of his senior guard. He focused on Elscer as soon as he saw him.

“What did you do to my men!” Talen shouted, storming towards the Ronin. “I asked them to recover Lanya, and you stopped them.”

“Finally found some nerve, have you?” the Ronin asked, commenting on his quite contrary behavior from when they were at the castle together. “I did nothing unwarranted to your men. They tried to take Lanya, and I stopped them, as I said she was under my protection.”

Talen began to speak again, but the Ronin cut him off before he could get a single word out.

“I told you to leave her. I said I would handle her. It appears you didn’t listen.”

Talen stopped in his tracks, cocking his head. “You threatened me. You told my men to tell me that you’d visit me.”

“And I’ll threaten you again,” the Ronin said. “All the guards in the world won’t stop me from getting to you if I intend to. The only thing keeping you from my blade are my good graces.”

Both of Talen’s guards drew their swords, stepping forward to defend their lord. Talen raised his hand, signaling them to stand down. He never broke his eye contact with the Ronin.

“You’re well aware that threatening nobility means death.”

“I know it means death,” the Ronin said, “If you’re actually capable of doling out the punishment. Send your men to arrest me, you can see for yourself how that will turn out for them.”

“You are bold,” Talen spat.

“So are you,” the Ronin said, “A very different man than who I conversed with last night. I told you to never interact with Lanya again. You ignored me. If you ignore me again there will be trouble.”

Talen narrowed his eyes. “You’re the only trouble in this town.”

The Ronin scoffed. “Have you already forgotten about the Wild Prince? Well don’t worry, I’ve decided it’s no longer worth it to keep you privy to my plans. Do your best to protect the village, it’s all you’re good for.”

Talen finally drew his own sword. “I won’t stand by these insults anymore.”

The Ronin narrowed his eyes at the lordling, and placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. “You’re playing a dangerous game, boy. This isn’t a fight you can win.”

“I’ve been trained by some of the greatest swordsman in the South,” Talen said, “I can hold my own in a fight.”

“I don’t doubt that,” the Ronin said, “But you’ve never seen real battle. I have. Step back before I teach you your first lesson.”

Talen didn’t back down. He had let the Ronin get into his head. He had controlled their first interaction, denied him Lanya, and now insulted him to his face. Talen could not let this stand any longer.

“Draw your sword,” Talen said, “I’ll not kill an unarmed man.”

The Ronin chuckled. “Now you’re suddenly too noble. Go on, strike.”

Talen’s ire had finally been filled. He struck out at the Ronin, only trying to take him in the leg. It would be cruel to cripple the man even further, but Talen wasn’t feeling merciful right now.

The Ronin’s sword shot out of its sheath, like a bolt of lightning, parrying the lordling’s blow, with such force and speed it sent Talen off balance. The Ronin capitalized on it, swinging his blade around, turning it in his hand, until the back of the blade rested against Talen’s neck, the cool metal chilling his throat.

The Ronin cocked his head before speaking. “I’ve had a lot of patience with you so far. But know that can hold your life in my hands as easily as I do now, any moment that I wish. If you pursue Lanya again, I will not show mercy a second time.”

Elscer ran the whole back side of the blade along Talen’s throat before sheathing the sword. He left without another word as Talen’s guard came to help him. The lordling brushed them off as he turned to see the Ronin leave, but he was already gone.