Still having a bit of a hard time believing what he was about to do to save the lives of a few goblins, Gilbert leaned against the castle’s stone wall, preparing to reveal himself to the approaching group of fleeing soldiers at an opportune moment.
He had left most of his weaponry and equipment behind to look as unthreatening as possible, though thanks to his otherwise rough exterior and battle-ready outfit, anyone with half a brain could have guessed he was an adventurer, or at least a mercenary.
If fright had deafened the soldiers to all reason, and things came to it, he did still have a dagger well-suited for lightly armored opponents, as well as a few surprises in the pouches of his belt – but in all honesty, it wasn’t going go well for him. Beating up a bunch of villagers armed with tools was one thing, but even slightly trained soldiers with even parts of their kit left was going to be a whole another story. Not to mention that he didn’t have a necromancer to watch his back, only Iris, whom he did not trust or know well.
Being the man he was, Gilbert had told Iris to lay low as he wasn’t entirely sure about her capabilities in combat, or lack thereof. He did suspect there was more than meets the eye in the girl, as she didn’t seem to have issues surviving on her own, but a routing group of soldiers was completely unpredictable and he was without a doubt the more experienced of the two, no matter what the girl turned out to be.
Right as the first few goblins were about to reach the rushing group, he hopped out from behind his cover and spread his arms wide, warmly welcoming the soldiers. “Welcome, welcome! What brings you to the goblin lands on this fine day?” He greeted them at the top of his lungs and laughed heartily, halting the goblins and at least slowing down the soldiers.
Understandably suspicious of the clearly seasoned warrior appearing in front of them – and of the animal skin clad girl that rolled over the castle’s wall to greet them, despite having been told to stay hidden, the group pulled out what weapons they had.
“Adventurers! Let’s take them before any more show up! We can bargain with their lives!” One of the soldiers in front of the group yelled. He didn’t really have any markings of a higher rank, but that was hardly an issue when the line of command was obliterated.
“Yeah!” Some of the others agreed and they began to hastily approach the pair.
Gilbert sighed. “Well, that didn’t work at all.” He muttered and looked disappointedly at Iris, who didn’t seem all too bothered by the threat.
“This is great, I’ve never been a prisoner.” She whispered and cheered quietly.
As soon as the soldiers reached them, both were pushed over on their faces without much resistance. Gilbert knew that trying to fight back or struggle would only give their captors a sense of triumph, that generally did not translate to a better treatment of hostages. Since negotiating had failed even before they had started, he knew that the men were desperate and scared, which was definitely fortunate for him and Iris. Desperate and scared captors would have to place all their bets on trading the hostages for their freedom, and at least wouldn’t try to kill them to make a point – and there definitely was no points to make if the other adventurers found out that the soldiers had killed one of theirs.
The soldiers tied their hostages’ hands with whatever pieces of rope Gilbert had with him, dragged them inside the castle’s walls and started to figure out what to do. A few were selected as lookouts, others looked around the camp for any weapons they could hope to defend themselves with, and the few remaining ones sat down by the fire and blankly stared at it.
The stew was still bubbling away and smelled irresistible, however, none of the men – or boys really, as none of them appeared to have passed the age of twenty-five, appeared interested in it. Being one of the few survivors on the losing side of a completely one-sided battle had a tendency to kill the appetite even from the hardiest of people.
Beyond exhausted and their morale crushed, they didn’t speak, inspect their surroundings, guard their hostages or even attempt to take a moment of rest, they simply stared at the flames with a complete lack of emotion on their face.
Tossed a bit further away from the fire, Iris scooted her way right next to Gilbert. “So, how are we escaping?” She whispered and looked around slyly.
“We’re not.” Gilbert said, barely lowering his voice. Having been exactly where their captors were, he knew no one was listening. “We’re waiting until the folks from Valor arrive, and what happens after that, happens after that.”
“Oh… Well I don’t want to do that, though?” Iris frowned.
“Well, it’s not really up to me what you do, is it? But unless you have something big up your sleeve, there’s no safer alternative.” The adventurer shrugged. He had already gotten rid of the rope around his wrists, but didn’t really feel like revealing it to Iris, as it’d only fuel her escape fantasies.
The girl smiled and leaned against the wall behind them. “Nope, just got my arms in my sleeves.” She laughed and looked at the smudged emblem Gilbert had drawn earlier.
The goblins seemed rather wary of the soldiers and largely left them unbothered. Uncharacteristic but understandable, as every time they strayed too close, the lookouts kicked them without a second thought. So instead, they simply resumed to their goblin businesses a bit further away.
Having gone through Gilbert’s bags and the ample selection of weaponry within, the soldiers in charge of acquiring equipment turned their attention to the next bag, which happened to be Iris’ satchel.
“I would leave that one well alone.” Gilbert warned them, but his words fell on deaf ears as the bag’s latches opened.
The soldier fiddling with it peeked inside and seemed a bit startled by the smell rising from within. Regardless, he reached in and pulled out the slightly bloody lump of linen. He looked at it worriedly and handed it over to his friend, who began to greedily unravel it.
“Boy, listen to me. Put the lump back into the bag and never look into it again – you really don’t need this one today.” The adventurer warned once more to no avail.
“Yeah! Don’t touch my stuff! You’re not trained!” Iris protested as well.
Meanwhile the soldier with the satchel bag took out another wrapped lump, placed it on the ground and took out a third one. This continued for at least ten more times while Gilbert watched in disbelief and horror. The pile of lumps grew more and more, each one frustrating their owner more and more as she kicked the ground and demanded the soldier to stop. Soon enough, it started to seem like the bag had been filled to brim with nothing but the wrapped-up organs.
“Who are you?” Gilbert whispered to his fellow hostage. He knew several different tribes and people that had a thing for extracting hearts for various reasons, however, all but one did it in at least vaguely ceremonial circumstances. Finally, the pieces in his head finally clicked together; the barely noticeable accent, the blue hood, being completely unbothered by the most macabre things he had seen in a good while. “Are you a necromancer?”
Iris gasped. “Whaaaaaaaat? Noooo… I’m just a passing trainee surgeon.” She exclaimed and failed to look even a bit honest. “Why would you even suggest something like that?”
The terrible answer confirmed Gilbert’s suspicions, and the blue hood suggested that Iris could have been from the same group as Alice, whom he had shared a bed in passing with. It would have certainly explained why she wasn’t too worried about being captured, but not exactly why she bothered to go along with it. While he didn’t quite share Anastacia’s overly negative and comically cruel view of her own people, Gilbert did know that the necromancers rarely appreciated being pushed around by regular people, so why would Iris so willingly sit around, when she could probably add fifteen more hearts to her collection without batting an eye?
The adventurer’s thoughts were interrupted by a horrified yelp by the soldier who had the unfortunate job of unwrapping the first heart. The man screamed and turned pale before throwing the bloody organ at the ground.
Couple of the soldiers immediately threw up as the heart limply bounced a couple of times right to its owner’s feet. Some wondered if it was human’s, others seemed certain it was, but regardless, all of the men agreed that it and the pile it belonged to were absolutely vile.
“You adventurers are so fucking disgusting…” The soldier who had emptied Iris’ bag snarled and gagged every time he looked at the pile, even after throwing the bag over it, hoping to cover it even partly.
“Can you not throw my stuff all over the ground? I need them for… things!” Iris complained and flailed about in her restraints.
Too exhausted to be disgusted for long, the soldiers stuffed the organs back into the satchel bag and threw it over the wall as far as they could – something which Gilbert agreed with wholeheartedly.
For the entire time Iris whined and wiggled in protest, but not once did she lash out or even give an uncomfortable feeling to the people ruining her macabre collection, showing some impressive self-control for a necromancer, even Anastacia would have likely already put up a fight by then. Instead, she showed something even rarer for her kind: compassion.
After calming down, Iris turned to the closest soldier. “You! Why are you here?” She asked and dragged herself across the stone floor.
A bit confused by the question; the soldier looked around before answering. “I just want to get back to my family.” He said melancholily.
“Right, right, but why did you come to Valor?” The girl inquired further.
“I… I was ordered to? The duke needed men for his army and I’m just a farmhand so…” The man tried to explain.
“No, I mean why were you attacking Valor, surely you must have known how much of a suicide that is?” Iris clarified.
“These poor sods don’t know anything.” Gilbert curtly interrupted them. “I would be surprised if any of them knew who they were attacking, beyond some wild guesses. They’re drudges, farmhands, boys from poor families and other hired nobodies that got given the minimal training to not stab themselves accidentally, shoved into armor far too large for them and sent off to fight some petty skirmish because somebody insulted their lord’s new painting or something equally vain. As far as they know, they were sent here to teach a lesson to some ‘enemy’ and go back as heroes and get showered in honor and glory – the ones that survive, anyway.”
Iris frowned. “Is this true?” She asked from the soldier.
“Ye… yes… I had heard of Valor before, but I didn’t know the people in there were… insane.” He nodded and shuddered at the thought of the massacre. “They said we’d just raid a bit and show them their place.”
Gilbert chuckled coldly. “The only people put into their places were you, and not by us adventurers either. You are nothing but nameless toys to your lords, dukes or whatever, and that’s how you’ll be treated for the rest of your lives – as pawns in pissing contests.” He said and for a brief moment, the same crestfallen emotionless the soldiers had showed on his face as well.
“Hitting close to home?” Iris guessed.
Gilbert laughed and cheered up slightly. “I wasn’t always an adventurer.” He admitted.
“I don’t get it. I’m doing a service to my lord, he wouldn’t just throw us away like that, would he? Our family has always paid our taxes too!” The young soldier insisted.
“Either your lord sent you to your deaths knowingly or is a complete fool for challenging Valor. I’ll leave it up to you to decide which is worse.” The adventurer shrugged. “The welcome Valor gave you may have been an unjust one, but it was your lord that figured it was a good idea to poke a hornet’s nest.”
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Iris nodded to herself a few times before standing up. “I’ve decided that you’ll survive!” She declared proudly, expecting a lot more cheers and encouragement than the absolutely none she actually got.
The soldiers looked at her worriedly for a while before simply telling her to be quiet and sit back down. After going through her belongings, they had more or less collectively decided that she was a complete lunatic.
“You’ve decided it?” Gilbert asked and chuckled.
“This is exactly what I told you about! I learned of their situation and my heart decided that making these people survive is the right thing to do, so that’s what I’ll do!” Iris explained cheerily.
Gilbert was considerably more cynical about the situation. “So you’re going to do what? Kill the adventurers that will get here any moment now and be hunted for the rest of your life? I don’t think that’s a great plan, assuming you can even do that.” He pointed out.
“No, no one will have to die – I mean, someone might, but no one has to! I’m still finalizing my idea, but I’m sure it’ll work out.” Iris reassured him with a bright smile on her face and gave one of her extremely unreassuring thumbs up.
Suddenly, a thundering mechanical screech ringed from somewhere the woods around the castle, almost giving a stroke to everyone but Gilbert, who recognized the noise. It echoed from the distance far after the initial scream had died down and kept the soldiers on edge.
Being sure that the noise was some kind of a plot by the adventurers chasing them, every one of the pair’s captors grabbed whatever weapons they had found among the Gilbert’s things, leaving their hostages unguarded.
Iris had noticed that Gilbert hadn’t even flinched from the noise. “What is that?” She whispered.
“That would be the king of this castle.” The adventurer smiled and stretched his arms now that no one was looking.
“Is he nice?” The girl worried.
Gilbert grabbed the pipe he had put down earlier and relit it. “Nice enough, a bit too quiet if you ask me, but otherwise decent. He might have something to say about all these soldiers stomping around his place like they owned it.” He said nonchalantly. With King’s aid he would definitely be able to free himself and Iris, but not at all in the way the almost certain necromancer wanted to. “Oh and Anastacia is his queen, so you know, I wouldn’t get on his case too much or she’ll find you.”
“Oh really? Good for her! Wait no! I mean… damnit… Who is this Anastacia you speak of? I certainly don’t know someone who goes by that name. Can you even imagine that? Knowing such a powerful necromancer… IS NOT WHAT I MEANT TO SAY! Anastacia was it? What a wonderful name for such a giant pain in the neck… FUCK!” Now almost hyperventilating over her quickly crumbling façade, Iris fell on her side on the cold floor and laid there, completely still until Gilbert stopped staring at her.
The adventurer watched as the untrained soldiers tried their best to form any kind of a functional defense and wondered what exactly were the qualifications needed to get into the inquisition, if the wreck of a girl next to him was a member. Every now and then, another sound emerged from the woods. Whether it was yet another shriek or a falling tree, they were definitely getting closer by the second, and soon enough, something familiar tumbled out of the tree line.
The cloaked simulacrum that had aided the adventurers before flung herself out from between the trees and landed on her back on the frozen grass. As she tried to desperately drag herself towards the castle, it became very clear to Gilbert that something was wrong, and he tossed aside his pipe to dash outside without hesitation.
Ignoring the soldiers and their warnings, he rushed to the simulacrum’s aid. Just as he reached the unnamed machine, King stepped out of the dry undergrowth.
The king of the goblins was literally steaming and melting the frozen ground around his mechanical body. The lights on his skin burned bright and dirt covered almost every part of his body. Seeing his friend, King stopped and at least appeared to relax his tensed posture.
“Damnit, son! I told you not to chase her!” Gilbert yelled and checked the cloaked simulacrum for any damage.
Besides a bit of dirt, there didn’t appear to be anything wrong. Lacking any real expertise on the subject, the adventurer figured that it was simply that their chase had continued for days and the limitations of the cloaked model had become apparent.
“What’s your beef with her anyway?” He asked as if there was going to be an answer. “I’m going to have to tell Anna about this.”
While this was going on, one of the goblins had become interested in the soldiers once more. Holding one of the pieces from Iris’ collection it had found, it waddled over to the closest one it saw and proudly presented it to him.
Whether it was because everyone present was on edge or disgust towards the goblin, the soldier kicked the critter a bit harder than he intended to, and what was meant to be a more of a deterrent actually hurt the goblin.
The cry of the goblin as it fell immediately caused a reaction in both simulacrums. King forgot about his grudge in a blink of an eye and launched past Gilbert, closing the distance to the poor soldier before anyone could say or do anything. He picked up the man like a piece of trash and held him aloft by his tunic.
The cloaked simulacrum took slightly longer to spring up and dash to the screaming goblin. She carefully picked it up and shielded it under her cloak before slumping to down on her knees as her burst of energy ran out.
“King!” Gilbert roared but the simulacrum no longer responded to him, as if some kind of a line had been crossed.
To their credit, rather than fleeing, the rest of the soldiers turned on the simulacrums to save their friend, but before they managed to charge into their swift and violent death, Iris lunged between them and King. Gilbert half expected for the girl to be pushed aside, but to his surprise, the mass of soldiers halted before her. Whether this was through their own will, or through some other means, was anyone’s guess.
Iris looked like she was about to say something, but as she opened her mouth, it became apparent that she had nothing at all planned and had simply acted on instinct.
Gilbert, not really wishing to see any pointless slaughter that day either, stepped to her aid and addressed the soldiers. “Boys! Things have changed and you lot need to get out right at this second.” He commanded them with an unforeseen amount of authority. Such was the weight of his words on the comparatively young men, that even though he had been a hostage mere moments ago, none of them even thought about questioning him. “What will happen now, is that my friend here will let your runt of a pal down, you will apologize to the goblin, and you will run until I can’t see you from here anymore. In exchange, I will tell any adventurer I meet to let you go. Am I making myself clear?”
The soldiers looked at each other, not really sure what was happening, but as Gilbert grabbed King’s arm and managed to convince him to drop their friend by whispering Anastacia’s name. They all nodded awkwardly, apologized to the injured goblin and dashed away, leaving behind whatever they had taken from the adventurer.
As the men disappeared into the distance, Gilbert relaxed his posture, let out his sucked-in stomach and sighed. Besides sometimes dealing with his unruly protegee, he rarely had to raise his voice like that anymore, and in all honesty, he found it slightly embarrassing to do. Regardless, it was effective even in cases it really shouldn’t have worked at all.
Iris clapped and cheered for the murder-free resolution to their situation. “Ohhh! Starting to see what Alice was talking about!” She said, this time without even realizing that she had namedropped another inquisitor in her delight.
The adventurer returned to the cloaked simulacrum’s aid and checked to see if there was anything wrong with the goblin, not that it really mattered, as they always seemed to heal from their injuries in mere hours. And as he had suspected, the small critter had mostly gotten scared and only had a slight bruise, which didn’t even prevent it from running away as soon as it was placed back on the ground.
He helped up the cloaked simulacrum and tried his best to support her considerable weight long enough to move her to the campfire. “I believe we had some stew going, still interested?” He asked warmly as they passed by Iris.
The rest of the day passed without further incidents. Gilbert returned to his agreed upon rent payment and managed to sculpt enough spoons for the rest of the tribe that happened to be around. Every now and then, he intentionally asked an extremely loaded question just to see Iris struggle with not admitting that she was from Mournvalley. When the other adventurers arrived to look for the fleeing soldiers, Gilbert simply asked for his colleagues to leave them be, to which they agreed to without much negotiation.
King and the cloaked simulacrum appeared to have formed a temporary truce under Gilbert’s watchful eye, and quietly sat on the opposite sides of the fire. A couple of goblins approached King during the day and received a pebble each for some unknown reason.
Though the goblins had gotten away with a few hearts, Iris managed to bargain much of her collection back from them with sticks and stones Gilbert advised her to gather from around the castle. She also attempted to mend some scrapes and cuts on the goblins, but they refused to stay put for long enough and she was forced to give up.
As the sun neared the western horizon, both Iris and Gilbert began lazily pack up their things. Neither of them really wanted to leave the warm fireside, but both had figured that it was about time to move.
“You’re leaving as well?” Iris inquired while stretching her legs after sitting still for hours.
Gilbert laughed awkwardly. “Aye, figured I’d just go back to Valor. It’s a bit silly to camp out here like this…” He admitted.
“So you listened to my advice!” Cheered the girl and clapped delightedly.
“What about you? Off to report this to your family?” The adventurer asked while making sure their campfire was put out. Though there were only a few embers left and the stone floor was in no danger of getting set on fire, he emptied the remaining water he had on it.
Noticing the them emphasis on the word ‘family’, Iris pouted and looked away. Some of the water had spilled off the ashes of the campfire, she stepped on it and used her foot to smudge the mysterious emblem Gilbert had drawn before the two had met. “Shouldn’t leave graffiti like this behind on other people’s homes.” She muttered while leaving a far larger mess behind. “Anyway, my family can wait for a while longer for their report. I’ve decided that I have something else to do before that, so I’ll join you for your trip back to the city.”
Not entirely sure what business Iris could have in Valor, but he figured that she wasn’t particularly dangerous to anyone and let it pass.
King didn’t appear to have any interest in leaving behind his tribe, which was understandable as Anastacia hadn’t come back yet and she was likely the main reason the simulacrum stayed in the city. He did often interact with other people even when the necromancer wasn’t around and had become slightly livelier in the recent months but would still drop everything as soon as she appeared.
Though the cloaked simulacrum had largely recuperated during the day, she was still slow and imprecise with her movements and would have no doubt lost the next round of tag with King. Because of this, Gilbert made the call to ask her to stay in Valor until she was back up to her usual speed. Though it would probably need some convincing to get her past the gate guards.
And so, the three departed. The walk from the goblin settlement to Valor was only a couple of kilometers, and it didn’t take long at all for them to reach the edge of the open field that surrounded the city.
Even in the sparse light of the setting sun, the absolute carnage left behind by Valor’s extremely offensive defenses was not something anyone should be made to see. Yet both Gilbert and Iris walked amongst it unbothered.
Gilbert had walked across plenty of battlefields, both better and worse, and was of the opinion that there weren’t really many alternatives to the massacre this time. The guild had probably done what they could before the fighting started but trying to negotiate with the nobles that gather armies for the pettiest of reasons was always an utterly wasted effort. The cruel way the army had been denied entry was harder to justify, but adventurers weren’t exactly known for pulling punches, nor should they have done so, considering how badly they tended to be outmanned.
Iris looked at the charred and torn corpses with great interest as she passed them, every now and then stopping to see what had happened to some particularly poor fool. “This should do.” She suddenly said and stopped.
“What?” Gilbert asked and stopped as well. “If you’re going to start harvesting organs here, you’re in for a stern talk, young lady. Just let the guild get rid of the corpses in a way that even resembles dignified.”
Iris laughed. “No no, this is where we’ll part ways. You see, I have something I’ve kept from you-“ She started.
“You’re an inquisitor.” Gilbert sighed, not even bothering to feign surprise.
Looking extremely annoyed that her secret had been figured out, Iris tore off her grisly fur covers and revealed her bloodstained uniform; a heavily modified version of the inquisition’s blue robes that had it’s sleeves removed and its hem shortened to barely reach their wearer’s knees. Iris’ uncovered arms were entirely covered in tattoos of patterns Gilbert recognized from some of Anastacia’s drafts. On top of the robes she wore a simple but sturdy leather vest that also worked as a harness for the pair of skeletal wings that unfolded themselves from around her body, spanning only slightly further than the inquisitor’s arms. The bones themselves were filled to brim with more control patterns and flapped a few times as they corrected their position. Finally, to complete her uniform, four ribs with just as much markings on them shot up from Iris’ pockets and began slowly orbiting above her head.
“I am Iris, the inquisitorial saint.” She declared with a bright smile on her face.
Having seen Coquelicot and being used to the shenanigans of necromancers, Gilbert remained unimpressed. “You should wear a coat, no wonder you were cold.” He grumbled and pondered if he should mention how much of an oxymoron her title was to most people.
“Can’t you at least pretend to be amazed? For me? Please?” She pleaded and flapped her wings.
“No.” The adventurer sighed. “What I’m worried about is why are you telling me this now?”
Iris looked around and seemed a bit confused by the question before pointing at her face. “I’m a necromancer; there are a bunch of bodies here, you know?” She said and stretched her wings to their fullest.
Slowly, the countless bodies littering the field began levering themselves up from the ground. The severed limbs and crushed bones found their way back to their deceased owners and stuck together under the inquisitor’s will. Still wearing the shattered remains of the armor donning the colors of their duke, the army rose up once more and started its slow shuffle away from the city.
“Care to explain what you’re doing?” Gilbert asked and gave way for a few reanimated soldiers that tried to get past him.
Iris turned to the direction the corpses were heading into. “The flesh and bone here has told me what it wants, and it wants to go back home. I’m going accompany it and have a bit of a chat with this duke of theirs about how to treat people. Once that is done, I’ll see that this unfortunate material is put to rest with its families.” She explained, gave Gilbert a wink over her shoulder and joined the slow march of hundreds of undead.
Watching the rent husks that barely resembled people anymore pull themselves back together was a bit much ever for the adventurer, so he headed back towards the gates of valor with the simulacrum and left the strange necromancer to her work.