Horses took careful, short steps in the misty plains of Normadia. Trotting through fields of ancient mounds and tombstones, the Genesis’ First Battalion was finally within reach of their final destination: the port city of Caen. It had been a very long way, made even longer thanks to their leader’s insistence on deviating from their trail on every opportunity to provide aid to those in need.

Ignatius de la Mancha, the oldest and arguably the wisest soldier among them, kept himself close to their leader to ensure that now that they were less of a day away from their destination, there would be no surprise expeditions at the behest of some unfortunate random peasant who audibly expressed his suffering within Esperanza’s hearing range.

“My lady, the Saints really have favored you this time. If your latest exploits didn’t result in action for our soldiers, I fear they could have started to rebel against your orders.” Ignatius had seen many a mutiny spark due to boredom and knew that the possibility of losing an entire army to their eagerness to stain their blades with blood was a very real one. “You must not push your luck with mercenary corps. As faithful to our cause as they say to be, you must always keep a seedling of doubt within your heart.”

“Nonsense Ignatius.” The black haired Saint smiled. “I believe they have proven themselves both capable and loyal enough to us! After all, there is no duty as virtuous and honorable than ours! And you think some idle time will be enough to break their faith?”

“Yes.”

“The years have made you weary, Ignatius. But this is a good thing! I am glad to have your vigilant eyes always looking at the shadows around us… I just wish you could rest and bask in the light more often.”

The gruffed old man sighed, rubbing his temples slowly. Oh how he wished to relax as well! But he knew way too much to even close his eyes without thinking of knives slicing his neck. Some may call him “paranoid”, and with very good reason! For he was as restless as folk come! But there was still that spark of rationality behind his words that had awarded him a position besides the Holy Dame.

“Let’s restate our objectives now that we are reaching our destination, then.” The battle priest sighed, changing the subject to something more manageable. “You do remember what we are to do once we arrive at Caen, right?”

“Yes.” Esperanza nodded, her smile fading as she focused. “We must find the congregation of Demiurges that the rumors said would gather in Caen and bring them to justice.”

“Correct, very good. I am glad you remembered the exact wording because that last part is very important, my Lady.” The old man narrowed his eyes. “We must ‘bring them to justice’.”

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“Yes!”

“Alive.”

“Yes, yes!”

“My lady. I cannot stress this enough: we must capture at least one of them ‘alive’!”

“I know!” Esperanza couldn’t help but pout. “Do you really doubt me that much, Ignatius?”

“It’s not that I doubt you, but your fervor when hunting witches down is…”

The old priest fell silent, shaking his head slowly. He couldn’t blame Esperanza for her hatred, even if she mistook it for religious zeal. Despite her immaculate facade when she wore her armour, many knew of the horrendous scars that covered her back, marks left from a childhood of torment under the hands of a Demiurge. It had been Ignatius himself who lead the expedition that found Esperanza, cuddled on a pit of corpses while clinging to the husk of her departed mother.

The word “trauma” was still not adopted by the common folk, but Ignatius and Esperanza understood its meaning very well.

“...Just try to stay your hand this time. You may execute them once the High Chamber finishes with their interrogation of the Demiurges.”

“Yes, sir…”

There was an uncomfortable silence between the young girl and her mentor for a moment there. Ignatius sighed, before deciding to use his secret weapon for this very case.

“Ah, that’s right. There’s also the Redheaded Witch.”

All gloom in Esperanza abandoned her at once, her eyes opening with curiosity as she turned to look at Ignatius with such force that she almost spooked her horse.”

“Has she been located yet?”

“We have very good reasons to believe she may be in Caen as well. You know, wherever a Demiurge appears, she seems to be very close by.”

The Holy Dame’s smile returned, radiant as ever, as she eagerly nodded.

“Do you think we will find her? After all these years…!”

“I believe so. I feel it in my old bones.”

Esperanza celebrated while the old man simply smiled. He didn’t understand the Dame’s infatuation with that vision from months ago: back in the middle of a forest, after many reports and sightings of demihumans in the area… Ignatius had to admit he was a bit curious about what could that little girl know, why had she started hunting Demiurges on her own and how did she seem to be a step ahead of the Church itself at every time!

But to Esperanza, there was so much more than just that.

She had looked into the girl’s eyes that day, just by accident. She had felt it, that sadness, that confusion proper of someone who has seen and endured suffering in the flesh and the heart. The living Saint had felt it: a connection, a kindred spirit. Someone who could truly, actually understand…

A fellow Saint.

Of course, she also knew that there was no way the girl could convince the church of that so easily, after all the red hair was a mark of imperfection! They would suspect her of being a Witch herself! Probably send her to interrogation and then to the pyre after getting her repentance…

Esperanza had made it her personal mission to find this girl, to help her! She would get the Church to recognize her as one of them no matter what, and—

Wait.

“...Ignatius, do you smell that?”

The Dame’s eyes narrowed, her grasp on the horse’s reigns tightened while Ignatius sniffed the air around them. Indeed, he smelled it. It smelled of blood and steel, of fire and smoke… a battle, not too far from them. The riders of the First Battalion looked up and saw the beautiful blue skies slowly turn gray with thick clouds of smoke…

“... Double time, now. It must be Caen!”

Esperanza feared the worst, so there was no real time to keep daydreaming. The world’s cruelty was reaching for the innocent once again, and she would not allow it. Not in her guard.