“What the hell were those things, Swizze!?” Jean stammered, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he knelt on the ground, grappling to reclaim his scattered composure..
“They are known by many names but the most common name would be seekers. They're humans like us, and the order of the seekers was destroyed by…”
Swizze knelt down to help his friend and paused mid-sentence.
Destroyed? Why was I about to utter some nonsense!? Why would they be destroyed??
He stood blankly, the strangeness of his own thoughts wrapping around his mind like a vice. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't make sense of those fleeting thoughts.
Yet, a nagging intuition whispered that these elusive thoughts held some significance.
“The more important question now is why didn't you ever tell me that you were of the kingdom’s elites and that your dad was THE first General of Bereene?” Jean’s voice broke through his thoughts.
Swizze’s reply was terse: “I don’t want to talk about it.” Despite his practiced stoicism, a shadow of disdain crept into his voice.
“Well, why not? It's pretty damn important.” Jean pressed, his eyes searching Swizze's for a sliver of explanation.
“Now is not the time nor the place,” Swizze replied, his voice firm yet distant. He handed Jean a small pouch. “Here, take this. Go home to your village, lay low until things settle.”
“No, this is exactly the time and the place. Why do you think I’m doing all this? Risking everything day in and day out just for a few coins?” Jean’s voice trembled with a blend of desperation and vexation.
“I know, it's for your village...” Swizze's voice trailed off into the chilling breeze.
“And all this time, you let us risk our necks to scrape together scraps when you could've easily given or lent me the money. Your family is wealthy beyond measure; they wouldn’t have noticed it even if you did.”
“You wouldn’t understand, Jean.”
“Then make me understand, Swizze. Make me understand why my best friend kept this from me!” Jean's plea echoed through the barren streets.
“Alright, tell me this, what do you think of the great noble families of our kingdom?”
“They're shining examples, aren’t they? Wealthy beyond belief, well-connected, well-educated... the epitome of success and the pride of our kingdom, so they say.”
“Perhaps that’s the facade they present. On the surface, these great families are the epitome of perfection. They can do no wrong, at least not in the eyes of the populace. Their indiscretions, no matter how grave, are always swept under the rug. They idle away their days, squandering the wealth siphoned from the sweat and toil of the poor on their opulent whims, all while patting themselves on the back for being the so-called ‘masters of the world’. They're a blight, a curse bestowed upon those unfortunate enough to be deemed their subjects. My actions will not be tarnished by the namesake of my family. Everything I do, I do on my own merit, with my own two hands.
“I... I'm not gonna stand here and pretend as if I had even the tiniest inkling of your family affairs, but if you’re so against the wealth that they have accumulated by exploiting the labor of the unfortunate, then is it really such a bad thing for you to put it to use and give the unfortunate some of that wealth?”
“Nothing is free in this world, everything will come at a cost, and when they come to collect someday it might be too high of a price to pay.”
His father has grown more and more detached from managing the state of family affairs, it has fallen almost entirely on his elder brother, and getting money from him is like getting blood from a stone. To be indebted to a man like him for the common folk is no different than signing your life away as a slave. Your life might as well be forfeit as you will live your life to his will and not your own, a fate worse than death.
That is if that sick bastard would be keeping everything above board. Who knows what kind of twisted experiments he would conduct behind closed doors in search of ‘knowledge.’” Swizze's gut twisted at the very thought.
“If sacrificing my meager life can help ease the amount of human suffering in my village, then that would be a small price to pay.”
As if the price to be paid would be but a single soul…
Under no circumstances would he allow Jean to make any sort of deal with that man, actually it would be better if they never meet at all. In fact, that is something Swizze would need to act proactively to ensure that is the case.
“I will not allow it, I’ll… no we will find another way. Here, take the gold from my sale and put it to good use.”
“You know the state of my village. Even with this gold, half of them wouldn’t make it past winter. The priest visits alone will cost more than this. Swizze please I beg of you, we need a better future and to make that a reality we need much more gold to lay the foundations.”
Had his mother still been alive, the greatest general to ever live would still have his head held high, beaming like the torch that lights the way for the future of their country. Now, he's nothing more than an empty shell that pretends to be alive, to have sunken so low, it truly was a miserable sight to behold.
There is a way to wake the slumbering man within, perhaps a slight mishap leading to an untimely accident. Certainly an idea worth considering, to kill two birds with one stone.
Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.
Swizze’s pondering led him to a resolution, and as his heart steadied, the familiar warmth of his smile graced his visage once more.
“You win Jean, I’ll have my people put together the arrangements, you don't have to worry about a thing. I’ll take care of it, all of it.”
The smile that blossomed on Jean’s face was something precious, so innocent and pure—it was something that needed to be protected.
Protected…
Snapped from his reverie by a knock on his door, Swizze turned to attend to the present.
“Young master, everything you have arranged has been put in place, the builders have built the new houses and the residents have already begun to move in. The new warehouse you ordered has also been completed of course, and the first shipments of provisions should be arriving there shortly, all protected by armed guards as requested. We have also donated a generous amount to the Church and they will send out a priest to be stationed there permanently and will be providing his services for the village folk free of charge. And one more thing, the villagers seemed to have sent a letter.”
“And what of the other matter?”
“We have our best men still looking into it, there still isn’t anything concrete to report yet, though I doubt your friend would be in any form of danger related to that incident. Here is the written report as per your request.”
Swizze got up before the words were even concluded and grabbed the letter, his annoyance evident in every bodily motion.
“Very good, let father know that I’ll be leaving, I’m rather uncertain when I’ll be returning again.”
“Young master, may I remind you that you are expected at the funeral in a few days time? You know how important this must be for your remaining family, no matter how much you despised your own brother, it would be in poor taste not to show your face at the ceremony.”
The words bounced right out of his ear as he slammed the door behind him.
As if I would ever bother to attend his funeral, he deserved everything that was coming for him. Good riddance.
To mourn the loss of such a waste of matter is outright ridiculous, they should be celebrating the deletion of such a foul creature draped in human flesh that did nothing but tarnish their family name.
Anger swelled as one thought led to the next. Realizing it, Swizze let out a breath and opened the letter.
Dear Swizze,
May this parchment find thee in robust health and soaring spirits. The essence of this missive is twofold; firstly, to extend a heart brimming with gratitude for thy tireless endeavors and unwavering allegiance towards our humble hamlet, and secondly, to tender an invitation to a celebratory gathering organized in thy esteemed honor.
Thy selfless deeds have not merely assuaged our tribulations, but have also imbued our lives with hope and valor. Thy empathy towards the downtrodden and thy relentless crusade for justice have etched a place in our hearts, inspiring the folk of this village to aspire to a loftier sense of duty and communal spirit.
With joyful hearts, we wish to inform thee that the villagers, as a token of our deep reverence and admiration, have commissioned a statue in thy likeness. This statue stands not merely as a tribute to thy noble character and valiant deeds, but also as a perpetual reminder to all of us about the ideals of justice, compassion, and community service.
We have orchestrated a festivity in the village square, where we wish to unveil the statue amidst a gathering of the entire village and some honorable souls from neighboring realms. It would be our highest honor to have thee grace this occasion with thy esteemed presence. Thy attendance would not only uplift the event but also afford us the opportunity to present our offspring with the embodiment of the virtues we wish to instill in them.
We comprehend that thy duties might have other demands on thy time, yet we earnestly hope that thou will be able to make it. Thy presence would symbolize a world of hope to us and especially to the younglings who look up to thee as a hero.
We are ardently looking forward to celebrating thee, our village’s beacon of hope, and to express our gratitude in person. We earnestly await thy affirmative response. Please convey to us at thy earliest convenience if thou shall be able to attend.
Warmest regards,
Jean.
“Hah,” Swizze burst with a laugh as one thought came to mind.
Who the hell wrote this for him?
A statue in his likeness, how peculiar that notion was. He had seen many statues adorning the lands, especially clustered within the capital, but always found them to be overly embellished, exorbitant, and somewhat tacky. Yet, the thought of having one for himself sent a tinge of red rushing to his cheeks. He hoped it would be a humble reflection, something modest and true to his demeanor.
With a brief detour to the stable to fetch his warhorse, Swizze departed from the family estate and the bustling capital. Only to be welcomed by a sea of flames.
Something was amiss, a foreboding feeling he couldn’t quite pinpoint. It felt more like a premonition.
His suspicion grew even stronger when he met a roadblock whilst still a day's worth of travel away. Two heavily armed men waited on the side of the forested road brandishing clear markings of the Holy Church of Balione.
“You there, halt!” They positioned themselves across the road, blocking his path.
Swizze reined to a stop, as both parties eyed each other with growing suspicion.
“Where are you headed, traveler?” Asked the one that stepped forward.
“I don’t see how that is any of your concern,” Swizze replied in a harsh tone.
Who are they to stop and question the free people who can travel the countryside as they wish?
“I don’t know who you think you are, boy. But this area is currently under the vestiges of the holy church, none may leave or enter as they please without the church's permission. Now if you don’t want any trouble, head back to wherever the hell you came from and pray that you don’t run into me again. I won’t be so courteous next time around, boy!”
The only destination this road led to was Jean’s secluded village. What interest could the Church possibly have there?
Swizze, still deep in thought, dismounted and approached the two men. The arrogant one immediately drew his sword and uttered a guttural laugh.
“Looks like somebody oughta teach you a lesson, boy.” The man shouted with a face twisted in arrogance.
Even the man who had not uttered a word yet drew his sword cautiously.
The blade knows not innocence nor guilt; it exacts its due regardless. And so, with a swift, merciless arc, the two men fell, clutching their throats, gasping futilely for breath. Ironically, they choked on the lifeblood they sought to spill, a desperate and vain struggle for the air that eluded them.
Sniffing the downwind from the town, there was another faint scent mixed in with the freshly drawn blood—a smell of ash and soot.
Without a moment's hesitation, he vaulted onto his steed and spurred towards the village, the stench intensifying with each gallop drawing him nearer. The horizon was marred by plumes of smoke, not one or two, but a dozen or more billowed ominously from the same direction.
As he neared the village outskirts, the scent vanished as if whisked away by an unseen hand, leaving him to question its existence. Confusion danced in his mind until he beheld the villagers congregated in the town center, encircling a bronze statue depicting him astride his warhorse, sword unsheathed, exuding a vague promise of a brighter future.
A smile curled on his lips, unbidden, as Jean and the rest of his village welcomed him in with open arms.
“Behold the man of the hour! I’m sure you all recognize our benefactor who brought sweeping changes to our humble abode, Lord Swizze Frenier Kiznkas!” A cheer erupted in the crowd as every single person came forward to give their personal thanks to him. From the elderly to the toddlers who still clung to their mothers, there was not a single person who did not shake his hand.
As he clasped each hand, a face laden with hope, an eerie vision flickered in the periphery—a glimpse of fire and brimstone scorching their bodies. Initially dismissed as figments of imagination, the vision persisted with each handshake, growing clearer, now engulfing not only the villagers but their dwellings. The fiery imagery grew so vivid with the last few handshakes, that he could almost feel the searing heat on his skin.
Was he hallucinating? He couldn't tell, but he had a role to play in front of these villagers for Jean’s sake. He had to endure.
The final handshake was Jean's, enveloped in a brotherly embrace, the fiery torment felt all too real, the scent of burning flesh stung his nostrils. Gazing down at Jean’s face, he beheld a charred visage, a victim to the stake, encircled by zealous fanatics brandishing that abhorred symbol.
The symbol of the Holy Church!
Swizze whirled around to a gruesome tableau—burned corpses of the villagers littered the ground while the vile acolytes of the Holy Church chanted their blasphemous verses.
“Why? Why did you let me die?” The words, barely a whisper, rasped from Jean’s charred vocal cords.
Swizze’s scream tore through the haunting tableau, a cry of despair that echoed through the scorched remains of what once was a haven of hope.