Seeing a few puffs of smoke and hearing an explosion only a few minutes after she had sent Anastacia and King into the town was concerning for the priestess of Sylvia at first, but in all honesty, it was absolutely standard form for the party and she had stared to become numb to it. Whenever the pair was sent to do something on their own, they would always manage to anger something or try to solve most things with fire.
While waiting, she had started to organize the equipment left behind by them just to have something to do. The cloaked simulacrum was about as talkative as most other simulacra, so trying to strike up a conversation with her was a wasted effort as well and the wait was starting to get on her nerves.
Suddenly a whip-like crack echoed from the town, a sound Emilia associated with the special spears Anastacia carried with her, but instead of the high velocity projectile she had expected to burst out of the line of houses somewhere along the outskirts of the town, something much larger and slower was launched upwards from the center of Ruvenstead.
It arched high up in the air towards the priestess’ general direction, easily clearing the defensive perimeter around the town and continuing its arc over her.
Emilia followed it with her gaze the entire time. “Ah… Is that a person?” She wondered just as the lump of flying something hit the frozen field behind her like a sack of potatoes, bouncing once before settling completely. “Yup, that’s a person, or was at least.”
Grabbing her mace, the priestess started to approach what was almost certainly, and maybe even hopefully, a corpse. She knew of the blue color the inquisitors used, but that and the red wraps tightly wound around the person’s limbs were an odd combination – as far as she knew, the red inquisition was gone and buried.
Sticking from the lifeless corpse, were several large splinters of wood, no doubt stuck deep enough to cause some damage to the internal organs, accompanied by countless lacerations that appeared to have been made by glass or something similarly sharp. Yet, all of this appeared inconsequential compared to the spear sticking up from the middle of the person’s chest, having gone through one of their arms first and stapled it down.
Emilia recognized the spear as one of Anastacia’s and was downright amazed that there was a body to be found in the first place. Usually, anything smaller than a building would turn into mist after being hit with one, but this inquisitor appeared to have slowed the hit with her arm first, and only got launched out of the town by the sheer force of it. Still, the tip of the spear was entirely buried in her chest if not partly through it, and judging by its location near the heart, the necromancer must have been dead even before hitting the ground – likely for their own good as well.
“Well, I guess that’s the end of that truce…” The priestess muttered and gestured for Leggy to come and help her move the body. She figured that even necromancers deserved to keep some of their dignity and not get left as a mangled husk in the middle of a field.
The inquisitor’s uncovered eye stared emotionlessly at the darkening sky above, but strangely enough, its gaze still appeared sharp and made her look like she was merely deep in thought instead of dead.
At first, Emilia took this as a symptom of her sudden death, but when the inquisitor’s quiet stare turned towards her as soon as she got close, it dawned on the priestess that steady puffs of steam still rose from her mouth – somehow the inquisitor was still alive and kicking.
Unsure of whether to think the inquisitor as an enemy or not, the priestess halted to ready her weapon and told Leggy to wait as well.
She wasn’t entirely on board with Anastacia’s blatantly hateful mentality when it came to Mournvalley in general and would rather not make an enemy out of the new inquisition, so attacking the miraculously still living member of it didn’t seem like the best possible move.
In the priestess’ indecision, the inquisitor began moving once more, she grasped the spear in her chest with her free arm, yanked it out without so much as a whimper of pain and proceeded to do the same to the rest of the debris sticking out of her.
Witnessing the inquisitor so carelessly do something that would have probably killed most seasoned soldiers of shock and loss of blood, Emilia figured that maybe this was not the person to make an enemy out of – especially without Anastacia present. She lowered her mace and took a slow step towards the inquisitor.
“Do you need help?” She asked worriedly.
The inquisitor slowly turned her head towards Emilia, but her eyes immediately locked onto the cloaked simulacrum behind her. The spear she had plucked from her chest suddenly flipped up from the ground and aimed itself towards Leggy.
Emilia unhesitatingly stepped in between the two. “She’s with me.” She said.
The spear hovered in place for a few more seconds as the necromancer’s glare scanned both of the people approaching her before jabbing itself into the ground.
“Bring me Laureth…” The inquisitor demanded with a wheezy and struggling tone, accompanied with violent coughs that brought up some blood with them.
The priestess put away her weapon and kneeled next to Maya, just in case there was something she could immediately help with. The wounds and burns littering the inquisitor’s body were in all honesty a bit above her paygrade as regular healer, and she began to wonder if she should pray for some divine assistance.
As she got a better look, she noticed three of her patient’s limbs being damaged beyond repair, but also already decaying instead of bleeding. Having met Coquelicot and her artificial arms, she correctly guessed that Maya was using some spare parts, and the injuries on her legs and right arm were not a cause for concern.
“Who or what is ‘Laureth’?” Emilia asked and did her best to mend the one remaining limb the inquisitor had. She didn’t really have the equipment or ability to properly address anything but that and some of the smaller cuts and burns, and what she did was essentially trying to empty the ocean with a bucket in terms of usefulness, but regardless, she chose to do what she could.
Maya coughed. “In the town, black robes…”
Emilia noticed that the inquisitor kept glancing at Leggy with burning hate in her eyes and gestured the simulacrum to stand back a bit more. “So it’s a friend of yours? Maybe someone who can help you? I assume you are the one in control of the bones around the town, so I’m going to need some reassurance that you won’t tear my friend apart, if she goes into the town to look for this Laureth.”
“The accursed machines will not enter!” The inquisitor immediately flared up.
“Well, someone needs to stay here and literally hold you together, and I’m not comfortable with leaving you two alone.” The priestess calmly explained and applied some ointment to a few of the burns. She tried to lower the inquisitor’s blue hood, but was met with so much resistance that she had to give up on it. “You know, for someone who should be dead about a hundred times over, you have an awful lot of fight left in you, and I have no idea how this is even possible.”
“I… am… fine… Just get Laureth.” Maya wheezed angrily.
While they argued, a quiet noise began growing somewhere, until suddenly a droning hum filled the air and silenced both of them. It started out as a single hum in the distance, but quickly became more of a swarm of machine-like noises, not all that much unlike King’s gentle hum, but somehow much angrier.
As mechanical screeches echoed over the field, the far edge of the field began lighting up with dozens of light blue flares that were easy to identify as simulacra in the darkening evening horizon.
The cause for their sudden gathering must have been the noise made by Anastacia in the town, which had probably alerted every single hollow simulacrum who had already been gathering in the area.
The machines slowly began approaching the town in a completely scattered formation, still a bit too far away to reveal their forms properly, but they looked at least somewhat smaller than King, and noticeably lighter in frame.
“Friends of yours?” Emilia asked and turned to Leggy, but all the answers she needed were given by the simulacra obviously preparing to fight or flee. “Oh, good! Fantastic!”
Maya struggled herself free from the priestess’ hands to slowly and painfully stand back up, further defying her condition. The blood dripping from her wounds quickly painted her path red as she began steadily walking towards the lights.
“Get… Laureth… I will hold!” The inquisitor growled, with quickly increasing amount of hate in her voice and glare.
The field of bones behind them began coalescing into spikes that lifted up from the ground and rushed to the inquisitor’s side, at the same time clearing a path through the field as they used up the fragments that had been scattered about. As each of them passed the priestess, she could feel the necromantic power holding them together just tug on her skin barely noticeably, almost like static electricity pulling on the hairs on one’s arm.
Emilia took one more look at what must have been at least a hundred twinkling lights in the distance and had to admit to herself that whether the wave of machines met an inquisitor, or an inquisitor and a priestess was all the same in the end, and there was no series of events where she would meaningfully weigh in on the fight.
The rumbling sound of countless feet marching across the field just began to get audible as she grabbed Leggy and dashed into the town to look for someone called ‘Laureth’, and ideally Anastacia.
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Despite the setting sun, the edge of the forest still appeared almost bright compared to the shade of the trees in the Garden of the Ancients, and when Gilbert, Iris and Cobalt emerged from between the trees on top of their steeds – some more gallant and proud than others – they were blinded by the red glow of the sky.
They had managed to speed up once more as they had discovered a path more recently used by hunters and other people with business in the forest, but it had still taken longer to get through than they would have liked, and almost certainly far longer than they could afford.
What they saw almost immediately after turning towards the town of Ruvenstead, was nothing like what the old adventurer had seen before; lining the road towards to town, were a twenty or so structures that appeared to be put together from fragments of bone and resembled dead and dried up trees with several twisted branches sprouting from them. Impaled on each branch of each ‘tree’, was a lifeless husk of a simulacrum, that had all been fractured beyond use by several smaller branches of bone growing through their cores.
Though no blood had been shed, it was still a rather macabre sight to witness, and while the inquisitors rushed into the direction their abilities guided them, Gilbert stopped to take a quick look at the simulacra.
The ones impaled on the trees appeared, for the lack of a better word, low-budged models to him. They had almost none of the armor King sported and were far less detailed than Leggy’s more delicate frame. Instead, they were made from a relatively simple humanoid-shaped metal frame with only a couple of stone pieces on them to house some parts that had performed some function beyond simple movement.
“There!” Iris suddenly yelled, allowed her skeletal mount to collapse and continued running on foot.
In the middle of the makeshift patch of forest, surrounded by a dozen more broken-down simulacra and a puddle of cold blood, laid the inquisitor by the name of Maya, covered in every type of injury conceivable by a sane mind and then some, yet alive.
Iris and Cobalt dragged their friend out of the blood and started to look for a place to put her in.
“Here.” Gilbert said and swiftly spread his bedroll on the ground.
Both far too preoccupied to thank the adventurer, the inquisitors lifted Maya onto the worn but warm bedroll and promptly started to unload Iris’ surgical equipment so she could get to work.
“Anything I can do to help?” The adventurer asked, feeling a bit useless just standing by the side and doing nothing.
“A couple of things actually, give me your lantern, roll up your sleeve and hold your arm out.” Iris hurriedly said and took out a rubber tube with metal needles in the ends from her satchel. As soon as Gilbert did what she asked, she jabbed one end into the thick vein running along his forearm.
Blood quickly filled the tube and spurted out of the other. Iris caught a drop on her finger and put it into her mouth. “There’s just no end to your usefulness is there?” She grinned after figuring out the finer nuances of the taste.
The inquisitor gently poked the other end of the tube into Maya’s arm and told Cobalt to make sure the blood kept flowing.
“Alright, guess this is what’s happening now…” The old adventurer sighed and accepted his role. He wasn’t exactly sure about the purpose of moving his blood into the injured inquisitor, but figured it was some form of treatment the necromancers had come up with and never bothered to share with the world, and considering how large he was and how tragically small the Mournvalleyans tended to be, there was probably at least that much spare blood in him, and it wouldn’t be a problem.
Almost as soon as the connection was made, the blank stare on Maya’s face became sharp once more as she came to her senses. She tried to fight a bit but was pushed down by one of Iris’ wings and calmed down once she saw what was going on.
“Maya, my sweet Maya, I’ve told you a million times over that I don’t want you hurting yourself like this.” The inquisitorial saint greeted her while removing the crystalline splinters of Anastacia’s dagger and other debris from the warmaster’s wounds with tweezers.
“I wish to touch the beard.” The warmaster responded, more than a bit delirious from the blood loss and tried to reach towards Gilbert, but Cobalt held her arm down so the needle wouldn’t come off.
Iris smiled while badly hiding her concern. “I know, honey, but right now I need you to focus on not bleeding so much.”
“Okay.” Maya sighed and docilely closed her eyes.
For a while, Gilbert watched the winged inquisitor work, patching, suturing and wrapping what she could. The usual easygoing smile on her face as nowhere to be seen, and the skeletal wings on her back twitched as she used necromancy to hold some of the wounds closed while she had to work on others.
“So… Is An-“ The adventurer tried to say before the alarmed looks on Iris and Cobalt’s faces made him stop in the middle of his question.
“We do not speak of the A-trollop in the warmaster’s presence.” Cobalt pointed out. “But if you must know, she’s in the town, with Laureth and two other people, if I’m not mistaken. All of them alive and reasonably well, unfortunately.”
Gilbert let out a sigh of relief. “Who’s Laureth? A necromancer?”
“He’s one of mine.” Iris muttered and wiped the blood from her hands to Cobalt’s clothes. “Outstandingly ungifted when it comes to necromancy, but by the white, he is a brave son of a bitch. He’s one of the people I teach to treat wounds and such and I have him follow Maya wherever she goes – since I have lambs to slightly overdose and campfires to sit by, and he’s one of the more useful of my students and the only one willing to do that.”
“They’re slowly making their way here, so I suggest you come up with a way to pacify the mockery of a necromancer you claim is a person.” The inquisitorial scribe grumbled.
Iris carefully plucked the hose from Maya’s arm and took out a few small glass vials to fill them with Gilbert’s blood.
Just as the adventurer was about to ask for the reason, Cobalt interrupted him. “DON’T ask, you don’t want to know.” He suggested.
Gilbert thought back at the time he had seen Iris’ collection of hearts and figured it to be sound advice. He let the inquisitor finish before helping her pack away her equipment.
The inquisitorial saint pulled out a bottle of clear red liquid from the very same satchel back she had kept the organ collection in and handed it over to the lightly woozy adventurer, along with a rather basic looking cookie. “You should drink that before doing anything – it’s basically juice.” She said and started to feed another cookie to the wounded inquisitor while complimenting her for staying still.
Obviously suspicious of the gift, the adventurer inspected the bottle, just in case there was something unsavory floating in it. The small piece of paper tied to the bottlecap with twine said “Juice” with quotation marks around it, hopefully for stylistic reasons. The liquid inside did at least look the part but was perhaps a bit too orange in the lantern’s light to be entirely trustworthy.
Regardless, Gilbert took a swig and was pleasantly surprised. While it certainly didn’t taste like any juice he was familiar with, the taste wasn’t offensive at least.
Soon enough after he had finished his drink, he could see the lights of King’s armor and Emilia’s pure white cloak in the direction of the town. No doubt after spotting him as well, he could see Anastacia and King dart in their direction.
Sensing the one who had launched her all the way from the town, Maya suddenly sat up and began immediately breathing heavily as her face twisted with hate once more.
“Time for us all to hold our ends of the bargain.” Cobalt scoffed and stood up. He positioned himself in front of the other two inquisitors and prepared to be the one facing Anastacia, just in time for a pulse of necromantic energy to wash over them, it clashed with the combined might of the inquisitors in a way that was invisible for everyone else, but would have been stunning for any regular necromancer. “We’re going to have something troublesome coming our way, so I would suggest you take a few steps away. Once she gets within shouting distance, I will give you a minute to convince her to stand down.”
Gilbert peered into the direction of the town and could barely make out the small necromancer taking one of her spears from her back.
The spear reached the inquisitors before the ear-piercing crack it caused. However, despite Anastacia’s aim being exceptional and the spear seemingly heading directly at them, with a single flick of his wrist, Cobalt calmly directed it sideways just enough for it to harmlessly miss and instead trim a few treetops in the distance.
As an experienced fighter, Gilbert could appreciate the scribe’s efficiency in comparison to other necromancers he had witnessed, and just like in regular combat, it no doubt gave him a fighting chance against someone like Anastacia – but his thoughts were interrupted by a frustrated growl from behind them, where Iris held the inquisitorial warmaster tightly wound in her wings and whispered into her ear.
“Maya, listen to my voice.” She said calmingly. “Think of things back home, of the day when these troubles are gone and all eight of us will be together again. The sound of Teal sharpening his swords, the scent of fresh cookies I’ve made for you, Sapphire telling us stories she heard when roaming the world, Cyan showing us pictures he drew of distant places, duke strumming his lute, Celeste singing to the tune and Cobalt pretending that he’s reading a book alone in the corner but actually smiling behind it because he adores us. All the while Coquelicot smiles on her throne and proudly looks at us. Those times will once again return, but not through hate or anger, never.
“I often fear that it’s your hate that will eventually take you from us. Your fury will steer you into a fight you should not take alone, and one that will rob you from all seven of us.
“Now, can you hear me?”
Maya grunted in response and struggled in the skeletal grasp.
“Do you remember the rules Coquelicot gave us? I know you do, because there’s no way you’d forget something she said, am I right? Could you repeat the third one with me? I’ll start it and let you finish, okay?” Iris continued with a tone that was both commanding and soothing at the same time. “When the third speaks…”
The warmaster halted her struggle. “…The others listen.” She finished and the anger in her face slowly began melting away.
“Good… And now is the time I’ve chosen to speak; as the warmaster, you go where you are needed the most, which means you are needed here. I may not know why, but I am absolutely certain that it isn’t to fight Anastacia. It isn’t a fight we can finish, at least not all three of us, and I for one am unwilling to accept a fate without all three of us leaving here, together.” The inquisitorial saint explained her thoughts on the matter. “Do you agree?”
“No… but I trust the saint to know better than me.” Maya said and slumped down, exhausted.
Iris gave Gilbert a quick nod. “Now, the man with the nice beard will stop Anastacia, so you just sleep in peace for a while.”
“I do like the beard…” The heavily wounded inquisitor muttered before going completely limp.
Gilbert’s plan for stopping Anastacia was fairly simple, but so was the girl herself. He popped open a cap from a very small vial he kept on his belt, emptied it into the bottle of ‘juice’ and capped the bottle again. After shaking it for a bit, he threw it in Anastacia’s direction.
“Anna, smell that!” He instructed the necromancer, who had stopped to look at the bottle that fell just a couple of meters short of her.
“Duck off Gil! I need to kill those bassholes!” Anastacia immediately responded but picked up the bottle anyway.
The old adventurer rolled his eyes. “Nay, trust me! It’ll be great!”
Anastacia inspected the bottle in what little light there was before grabbing the cork. “Okay, but if it’s a fart in a bottle, I’ll kill you too!” She threatened and opened the bottle.
As soon as the necromancer took a whiff of the contents, she fell on her face onto the ground and her overpowering presence died down.
The two conscious inquisitors stared at the knocked-out source of nightmares for their entire team and shared a thought about how absolutely embarrassing it was that Anastacia gave them as much trouble as she did.
“I’ll have a proper chat with her once she wakes up. As long as you’re not in the same room, I think it should be easy enough to convince her to forgive you for the time being.” The adventurer smiled proudly stroked his beard.
“You know, we could just kill her now…” Cobalt suggested out of the blue. “She’s right there and you have a bunch of knives on you. We could just go there at stab her to remove one of the biggest obstacles we have in the entire world.”
“Nah, we made a promise. If Maya and she won’t kill each other, everyone walks away alive.” Iris sighed, knowing exactly how much grief the rest of the inquisition was going to give her over the decision – but to her, it was the right thing to do and that’s all that mattered. “I will look away for a bit if you feel like kicking her a couple of times or something though. It’s a way too good of an oppo-”
“No kicking.” Gilbert added.
“…Like I said, absolutely no kicking, none whatsoever.” Iris continued without missing a beat. “We’ll just get Maya to a warm bed and figure out what’s what after that.”