Anastacia, Emilia and King stood at attention, with their equipment and supplies readied for scrutiny from Gilbert and Rosie. They would have liked to depart a while ago, but had been stopped by mostly the innkeeper to make absolutely sure they actually had everything they needed - even though the journey they were embarking on wasn’t particularly long and they would have ample opportunities to buy anything they forgot from Crescent.
Though the blacksmith had seemed oddly absentminded in the past couple of days, Anastacia had received her spears and sheathes for her new daggers, which she decided to attach to her leg – like in the guild uniform she had been given for her previous quest.
Emilia donned her usual outfit, which had made it through much longer and harder journeys than the one they were about to face, though she had packed up more potions and salves than usual.
As for King, he had been permitted to carry the spikes he himself had ordered to hunt down other simulacra, but Anastacia had taught herself how to take them off, in case he started acting up against Leggy once more.
Due to the agreement they had signed with Strawberry, the trio of adventurers hadn’t been able to tell Gilbert or Rosie where they were heading or why they didn’t want their wise mentor to come along. While Gilbert didn’t really mind, as he was otherwise occupied and could guess there was a reason they couldn’t share, the innkeeper was considerably less understanding.
Rosie had numerous times tried to encourage, demand and force the old adventurer to first tag along and later shadow them from a distance to no avail; and when that failed, she tried to even go with them herself, but was ultimately convinced to abandon that plan as well.
“Have you got enough clothes?” The tigress inquired worriedly and went through Anastacia’s backpack for the fifth time.
The necromancer groaned. “Like I’ve said ten times already, I have six clean outfits, underwear for ten days, socks for three weeks, a few pairs of gloves and my winter clothes.” She listed the contents of her bag.
“I have faith that Lady Sylvia provides all I need.” The priestess said with a tad of smugness in her voice, like she knew it was going to irk Rosie.
The innkeeper hastily repacked Anastacia’s clothes and moved on to the larger bag King had been made to carry, which contained most of the camping and cooking gear for the whole party, whatever ingredients they could take, most of their water and other assorted things Anastacia couldn’t be bothered to carry herself. One by one, she arranged the items on the table in front of her and inspected each one in meticulous detail; if a potato had so much as a blemish on it, she would have Yulia get a better one, obviously just to delay the departure.
Going over the small collection of spices packed along with the other ingredients, Rosie gave it a disapproving sigh. Though it was paltry compared to her kitchen’s spice rack, it was fairly extensive for adventurers, who usually just carried a pinch of salt with them and would gather fresh herbs along the way.
“You don’t even have cinnamon. How are you expecting to make it without cinnamon? I’d give you some, but we just ran out and the shipment hasn’t gotten here yet. Maybe you should delay your trip for a couple of days, or just cancel it?” She ramblingly suggested.
“Miss Rosie, I refilled the spices yesterday, there’s no way we’re out yet.” Yulia pitched in and handed over the cleanest and most flawless potato she had been able to find in the kitchen.
“Shut up, lamb, and go fuck your geriatric bear.” Rosie hissed at her chef and pointed at Gilbert. “If I say we’re out of cinnamon, we’re out of cinnamon!”
Anastacia was getting tired of being held back for well over an hour. “What could we possibly need cinnamon for? You think I’ll just have Emilia lay on her back and turn on the heat while I bake some sweet rolls on her armor?” She mockingly asked and knocked on the priestess’ chest plate. “I lived for fifteen years without knowing what salt was, we can do a week without cinnamon.”
Suddenly Emilia opened a pouch on her belt and pulled out a small glass vial full of brown powder. “I actually have some on me, so we’re good.” She revealed and opened the vial to have a sniff. “I also have a bit of rosemary and cardamom.”
”HA! Hear that, we’ve got spices!” The necromancer celebrated. “Wait, why do you have all that on you?”
The priestess shrugged. “I like the scent of spices; it helps me sleep.” She explained and began putting their gear back into the backpack.
Anastacia squinted and wasn’t really sure what to think of her friend’s sleeping aid. “Okay, weirdo…”
“Anna, I’ve listened to you go on and on about how you like to rub your face on some simulacrum thighs before sleeping because they don’t have a pulse, I’m not going to take any crap from you for liking a homely scent.” Emilia defended herself and kept covertly repacking their supplies while distracting Rosie with banter.
The necromancer noticed her friend’s plan of escape and pretended to be grievously insulted by the completely fair call out. “I have a legitimate disability that makes me acutely aware of the gross mushy floppiness of people and you know that!” She claimed and stomped on the floor while positioning herself to dash out.
“Necromancy is a disability now?” The priestess laughed and made some finishing touches on the bag to make sure nothing would fall out before they were a safe distance away. “Besides, I’m not saying you’re not allowed to do whatever you want, but you can’t- NOW!”
And with that, Emilia, Anastacia and King all grabbed their equipment and dashed out before Rosie had the chance to object more. By the time the door slowly swung shut, they had already disappeared among the merchant stands of the square.
The innkeeper was dumbfounded. “I can’t believe they’d do that to me…” She said and considered chasing them down, which she could have effortlessly done.
“You were being too much; they only have a few hours of daylight left.” Gilbert chuckled and tapped Rosie on the shoulder to encourage her to stay put.
“But what if they get hurt, they barely know what they’re doing!” The tigress still protested letting the somewhat inexperienced pair of adventurers go out on their own.
Gilbert shrugged. “Then it’ll be a learning experience, sometimes adventurers get hurt. If it’s any comfort to you, I’ve seen Emilia get skewered by a giant eagle and that didn’t even slow her down, and I think Anna has roughly an equal chance to get herself hurt whether she’s fighting a dragon or walking down a staircase.” He tried to calm the worried innkeeper. “Besides, they’ve got King with them as well. He’s been acting a bit weird recently, but he’s reliable.”
Rosie decided to not give chase but had to pull up a chair and sit down to make sure her feet wouldn’t do it on their own. “But how do we know they’ll eat properly? Kitten is still all skin and bones…”
“You saw it yourself; they have plenty of supplies.” The old adventurer said and sat down as well while Yulia went to get them something to drink. In all honesty, he was somewhat concerned as well, but knew that someone needed to keep Rosie from running after them. “Emilia is a far better cook than me, and even if they lose everything somehow, King is one of the most prolific hunters I’ve seen, and surviving in the wild is actually one of those things Anna has grasped really well. They’ll be fine.”
“But it’s freezing out there, and they don’t even have any fur!” The innkeeper kept looking for justifications to her worries.
Gilbert took a sip from his fresh pour of mead while Yulia awkwardly sat down next to him. “One of them is a happiness-fueled furnace, one is made from stone and the third can literally throw fire; cold is the last thing that’ll get them.” He laughed and gave the lamb an equally awkward pat on the head.
Starting to struggle with finding more causes of worry, Rosie grabbed the drink brought to her and kept trying to peer through a window. “But what if they run into trouble…”
“Again, they’re adventurers; they either do so intentionally or are the trouble.” Gilbert rolled his eyes. “Is it always like this when we leave?” He whispered to Yulia.
“If both Miss Emilia and Anna go, she’s pretty useless for the first few days.” The lamb nodded and covered her mouth with a tray she brought the drinks with. “Day one, she just drinks. Day two, she can dice some ingredients. Day three, she usually relapses and becomes useless again. From then on it gets better – unless it takes too long for you guys to come back.”
Gilbert chuckled and started to pack his pipe to disguise his own nervousness.
After a few hours of exhausting marching on the frozen path between Valor and Crescent, Anastacia, Emilia, King and Leggy, who had joined them along the way, were almost withing sight of their destination – barely on time too, the temperature had already started to drop and the day was on its last few moments of sunlight.
Not only had Rosie held them back for a good while, when the party arrived to Anastacia’s goblin tribe, where Sister Pyrus, or Leggy, had been made to wait by Strawberry; the simulacrum insisted on saying goodbye to each and every one of the goblins by hugging them, burning what little spare time they had left.
Walking in the cold took some time to get used to, which slowed them down; but they also traveled in constant fear of suddenly getting tackled by a slightly overbearing tigress and dragged back to Valor. Rosie wasn’t supposed to know where they were heading, but that was in no way reassuring to either of the adventurers.
“-you see, that’s why most candelabras are complete assholes and you can’t trust their advice – so remember; hedgehogs, that stupid darker type of mustard, holes in rocks and candelabras are bad for you, while most types of beans, that weird empty page at the start of books, people who can reach their nose with their tongue and bagels you can trust.” The necromancer finished was had been and extremely unfocused tale of love, sacrifice and utter confusion. “You know what I mean?”
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Emilia blinked blankly a few times before snapping awake from a trance-like state the conversation had induced in her. “Oh? Yes, yeah, totally. Tell me, do you ever get this feeling where you’re a part of a conversation but at the same time you haven’t had a clue what has been going on for like an hour?” She asked and smiled as warmly as she could.
“Not going to lie, I’ve had that going on for most of my life. Think I like missed a briefing or something for what I was supposed to do with my life at some point when I was like five and well… now the regime I was technically part of doesn’t exist and I’m the queen of goblins with very little intention on my part.” Anastacia said and peered at what she thought was the distant silhouette of Crescent’s tallest buildings against the evening sky. “Looks like we’re getting close to Trashville, capital of the kingdom of Garbagia.”
“Stop that, it’s not so bad anymore. I’ve put in a lot of work with the local ruler, and the people who put their faith in Lady Sylvia have turned the whole place around.” The priestess insisted but understood why her friend wouldn’t exactly enjoy their visit to Crescent.
“Easy for someone who hasn’t been killed there to say.” Anastacia scoffed. “But I’m not kidding, if I die again, I’m going to haunt you for the rest of your life. You’ll never get a moment of privacy anymore.”
“Yes, yes, I’m sure you will.” Laughed Emilia. “I’m pretty sure you’ll like the city now that it’s free from… well, filth really.”
The necromancer shivered a bit and rubbed her neck. “Whatever. Someone there points a crossbow at my general direction, it’ll be the last thing they or anyone directly behind them do.”
They walked past the frozen fields that still had piles of hay here and there, making it seem like the farmers had been caught off guard by winter, but the crop itself had been harvested just in time before the ground started to freeze over. By the looks of it, the city had even needed a couple of new granaries to handle the bountiful harvest – something the citizens no doubt credited the goddess of joy and her sole priestess for.
Though no one was working the fields anymore, the adventurers passed a few wagons hauling tools and such towards the city. The crew of each one stopped to take their hats off and bow to Emilia as she walked past them and gave a charming wave and a smile in return.
The glances gathered by the other three party members were more concerned, but in no way threatening or off putting, and whenever Anastacia smiled back at them, the people nodded and gave a wary smile back.
Instead of the paladins in their shiny armor that had guarded the firmly locked city gates the last time Anastacia had been there, there was now a single, out of shape guard sleeping by the open gate, donning a worn out mail and a tunic with the city’s crescent moon seal on it – perhaps a bit too far in the opposite direction when it came to safety, but being so close to Valor had its perks when it came to that.
The adventurers slipped in without bothering the tired guard and took a gander at the city that was getting ready for the night. The shops were closing for the day and the taverns were preparing for the influx of customers as everyone’s workday had ended along with the daylight. The streets were far from empty, but the tense atmosphere that had been caused by the church’s presence was completely gone from everyone’s shoulders, and it was showing.
“Well, what do you think?” Emilia asked with a proud smirk on her face, but to her disappointment, the necromancer was already holding her nose and gagging. “What’s wrong?!”
“This place reeks of death and rotting blood.” Anastacia explained. “You may have dragged the paladin corpses out of the city, but the blood has seeped under the streets with rain and stuff.”
Emilia sniffed the cold air for a while. “Are you sure? I can’t smell anything besides the usual city stuff and it’s not like I’ve been here in a while, so I can’t be used to it either.”
“I grew up in this smell, so I’m very sensitive to it, but it’ll just be a while until I get used to it again, so don’t worry.” The necromancer gagged as her eyes began to water.
A bit worried that they would have to sleep outside after all, the priestess took a napkin from her pocket, poured a dash of her personal spice collection on it and gave it to her friend. “Breathe through that. Is there anything we can do to make the stench go away? Short or long term. I’d rather not have you suffer through it every time we happen to come by.”
The spicy scent imbued into the napkin was a stark improvement to the noxious odor of off blood, and Anastacia slightly regretted mocking Emilia over it, even as a jest. While sniffing, she realized that the mix of spices smelled somehow familiar and calming but she couldn’t quite place where she had come across it before.
“Not really, it just takes a few years for the initial stench to fade, probably a bit longer with the paved roads. After that it’s mostly just the plants growing from the tainted soil that gather and amplify it, any water around it also has a weird tang to it for ages.” Anastacia explained through the napkin. “It’s probably not as bad inside, so let’s just head to wherever you figured we’d sleep.”
“Oh, right! We’re sleeping in the temple barracks.” The priestess said happily. “It’s sort of our base of operations here. It’s warm, the beds are soft and- well, you’ll see.”
King had been staring at the other simulacrum with them for the entire time, and obviously wasn’t going to trust her any time soon. He appeared to come along extremely begrudgingly in the first place and likely only to keep Leggy away from Anastacia at all cost. Being far from inconspicuous, he also gathered plenty of terrified stares from the citizenry of the city, but was far too preoccupied to care and probably didn’t even notice.
Meanwhile, Leggy did her best to stick to the shadows and avoid being noticed, often succeeding well enough that even Anastacia lost her a few times.
As the party slowly made their way through the streets, they couldn’t get much further than ten meters at once, before someone halted Emilia and asked for a prayer for whatever minor malady or barely noticeable misfortune that had struck them recently. While the priestess herself was only too happy to actually practice her profession for the good of the people who followed Sylvia, it quickly became tiresome to Anastacia.
“Do you want to just have a little gathering or something by the temple?” She asked and pointed at the temple square at the end of the street. “You have a lot more fans than I thought you did.”
“Could I? It might take a while.” Emilia asked genuinely excited, almost uncharacteristically so.
“Sure, sure. I need to show these two my death spot anyway, and I’d rather be able to leave in the morning without being stopped a hundred times.” Said the necromancer dismissively before heading onwards.
The temple square Anastacia had clashed with the paladins months ago was now largely empty. The pieces of litter strewn here and there on the ground and a couple of wagons left to wait for a time they were needed made it very clear that the place was in no way considered sacred anymore, it was just another open space in the middle of the city with large, abandoned ruins of a temple looming over it.
Emilia had considered fixing up the old temple of Sylvia but didn’t really have much in the way of good memories regarding it, or a need for it in the first place. Such grand structures weren’t at all compatible with the way she practiced her faith and all she had asked for was the small barrack near it that used to house the higher ranking paladins of the church, leaving the empty temple for the locals to deal with – and judging by the rundown shape of the building, her words must have scared everyone from even considering using it for anything else.
The reek of festering blood and gore was even more potent by the steps leading up to the temple, so much so that it started to creep through Anastacia’s napkin mask as she slowly climbed up closer to the spot she had taken a crossbow bolt to the neck in.
“Here it is, guys.” She sighed and pointed at faint bloodstain left at the top. “That’s where I died. Bit of a low point in my life really, things were a bit weird even a while after I got better – still are, I suppose. Sometimes I think that the reason why I literally can’t even get water from a well without angering some ancient spirit of moist buckets, is that the world is trying to sort of fix that little hiccup I caused – or maybe I’m just that unlucky.”
She sat down on the cold staircase, with the two simulacra following her example, and watched as more and more people gathered around the priestess, as the word of her arrival spread like wildfire.
Though the lanterns and torches of the crowd lit the temple square well, Emilia’s pure white uniform shone brighter and warmer than any of them. Yet, instead of drowning out their light, the priestess’ presence bolstered them and allowed the flames to grow taller, so much so that their glow was probably visible from outside the city.
Even more people flooded the square from the nearby streets and buildings, most of them commoners of no particular note, but as time went on, the commotion started to attract people with fancier clothing, bodyguards and even a few carriages. One gaudy carriage in particular made its way through the crowd with the aid of the city’s guards before eventually coming to a halt near Emilia. Out stepped a stout man with a long, red cape lined with fine furs and golden decorations, making it clear that he was of considerable status in the country the city belonged to. Regardless, in front of the high priestess of Sylvia, he bowed long and deep.
Anastacia chuckled when she saw her friend asking the man to move his outrageously opulent ride out of the way so that more people could see her, but was surprised to see him do so without Emilia having to even threaten to punch anyone.
“You know, I probably don’t give her one tenth of the respect I should. Last night, I tossed a cucumber stick into her drink and now hundreds of people are flocking to meet her.” She wondered and tried to eat a piece of jerky she had tucked in her belt, but every time she opened her mouth, it got filled with the gross stench of death that lingered in the air and ruined her appetite. “But maybe it’s my job to keep her grounded… Yeah! That’s sounds like it could be a thing and totally not an excuse.”
The improvised mass only lasted for about half an hour before Emilia told the people of Crescent to go about their business again. However, a smaller crowd of stragglers insisted on meeting her in person, so that took almost as long because the priestess didn’t have the heart to tell them to go away without a quick prayer for their benefit. Eventually she managed to tear herself away from her supporters and climbed the staircase to reconvene with the rest of the party.
“Sorry it took so long, some of these people are… desperate for guidance.” She said exhaustedly but with a wide smile on her face, clearly proud of her work.
Anastacia stood up and stretched, her legs had gone numb from sitting on the cold stone for so long and it took a few squats to wake them back up. “That’s fine, but you do owe me a butt now, I think this one froze to death.”
“I see… Well, I don’t carry any spare ones on me, so you’ll have to wait until we get back home.” Joked Emilia. “We should just head to the barracks and get some sleep, we’ll have to leave early tomorrow.”
The necromancer and the two simulacra followed Emilia down the staircase and all the way around the temple, to a smaller two-story stone building attached to it.
Some of the building’s windows had the flickering light of a candle or a fireplace shining through them, suggesting that there were people inside.
Unlike the rundown temple itself, the barracks had been tended to since their original inhabitants had been gotten rid of. The small juniper shrubs lining the path to the door had been kept neat and the path itself had been swept clean of dust, snow and dead leaves.
On top of the sturdy wooden door was a plank of wood that was clearly added there later. It had obviously been salvaged from a heap of scrap somewhere, and still had a couple of bent rusty nails poking out of it. The lettering on it had been done by repeatedly heating up a piece of metal and burning small marks on it.
“The Sisterhood of Sylvia…” Anastacia read the sign out loud and looked at her friend with an amused grin.
“I had nothing to do with this, trust me. They just sort of appeared after we left.” The priestess sighed. “They run the religious affairs here when I’m out – whether I like it or not; but don’t worry, they’re all good people and have their hearts in the right place. It’s just that they don’t have the voice of Lady Sylvia in their head, so a lot of what they believe is… wishful conjecture.”
Anastacia snickered maliciously. “I can’t believe you have a cult… Everyone is going to love to hear about this!”
“They are not a cult! Okay, they might be a cult, but they’re the least cultish cult that had ever culted… okay they are pretty cultish, but they don’t kill people! Please, don’t tell anyone about this.” Emilia begged and worriedly glanced at the heavy wooden door before them.
“I’m sorry but some secrets weren’t made to be kept.” Laughed Anastacia and knocked excitedly on the door.
As soon as the lock on the door let out a click, Emilia instinctively hid behind King and left Anastacia to face what was coming.
When the door swung open, almost hitting the necromancer on the way, it revealed a massive orcish woman with a shaved head, a very prominent scar across the face and a set of white robes that were obviously hiding some other gear under them.
She stared down at Anastacia with a menacing look to her and squinted. “That helmet…” Muttered the orc.
“I- I- uhhhh…” Anastacia stammered and took a step back.
“That helmet, tiny build, violet cloak… You’re-“ The orcish woman gasped in awe as her eyes widened and she turned to yell into the building. “Sisters! Saint Anastacia has finally come! Prepare the oils!”