8:19 A.M.
February 12
Frostmonth 14
Saint Shepherd Church, Limeroom, Veotera
It was a glorious day. Gary stretched mightily in the main room of the church, warming up his muscles before he went into some light exercises. This meeting with the Velvet Court’s representative had gone off far better than he’d hoped it would. It was a strategic gamble to have shown Roland Wevre his status since now the upper command structure of the organization knew about his abilities. Gary smirked to himself as he remembered the haunted look on the man’s face. They wouldn’t be a problem as long as he didn’t poke the bear intentionally. A spring in his step was there for the past day or so since he felt free to move about without worrying about blades in the dark.
That assassin had been cowed by his summoner’s visible change in attitude and hadn’t been a factor at all in the whole thing. A few push-ups here, a few sit-ups there, some stretches that slid into a bit of boxing maneuvers; the young man was feeling very spry. The boxing shifted into a whirling dance of kicks and flashing strikes of palms and fists into the air as Gary wove his way through an imaginary crowd of opponents. Flipping his direction before he hit one wall, the Plunderer snatched up one of his brand new tomahawks and took to swinging it as the simple dagger came up in his other hand to gut an illusory foe as the drills continued.
Out of the corner of his vision he saw Remmy sitting on a stool by the pulpit watching his assistant moving through now-familiar combat drills and training motions. It had struck the old priest as an odd habit until Gary had explained it was part of how he kept his good figure and remained sharp for battle. The main hall of the church was the only place not outside that was big enough for Gary to train in, and so the man had relented and gave Gary some time each morning to get his work in.
“I still don’t understand where you get all this energy,” Remmy said as Gary continued the dance of fake battle past his position. Gary finished the drill with a whirling trio of rapid-fire roundhouses that ended with a right leg held high and steady before it retracted and Gary shifted into a finishing stance. He turned his gaze towards Remmy and smiled at him.
“The power of youth, my dear friend. Youth, and whatever the System’s done to my stamina. I think the efficiency of my digestion is giving me too much energy. Gotta burn it off or I’ll get jittery later in the day.”
“Power of youth, he says. Bah!” Gary started laughing at that, and after a few moments Remmy joined in. As he laughed, Gary snatched up a thick cloth and began toweling himself off from the light sheen of sweat he’d actually worked up over the short workout. He set the weapons back in their respective sheaths and spread his arms wide in an inviting gesture.
“It also helps that I got those fuckwits off our backs. Mental burdens cause depression, and that causes a loss in performance across the whole of your body.” Remmy was about to say something when there was a very loud rapping on the church’s doors. Gary’s hands went back to the weapons he was currently wearing. That was the sound of metal on wood. He sent a glance back to Remmy who wore a mirroring expression of worry. The old priest made to stand up and before he made it off the raised portion where the pulpit and altar were Gary waved him back.
The teenager crossed the distance in seconds and gave Remmy a preparatory look. Remmy got his relqa cross into his thin hands and nodded. Gary pulled the doors open, stepping back as he did so to get out of the attack range of whoever was there. What greeted him was a sight he hadn’t been expecting to see here.
The man before him was clad head to toe in very expensive-looking polished steel plate armor. The edges were done in a lovely brass filigree that went far too heavy on the cross symbolism. The black and gold tabard on the armored man’s front was clean and without seemingly a stitch out of place. A heavy-looking longsword was sheathed at the left hip and Gary noted the helmet and faceplate completely obscured the figure’s face and left only brown eyes staring back at him.
The knight’s posture clearly showed he wasn’t expecting Gary to be there, and certainly not armed with weapons he hadn’t yet drawn. Knight and Plunderer stared at each other in silence before the armored figure spoke up. “Is Father Wikloss in?”
“I am,” Remmy said as he’d clearly recognized the figure and had made his way to the door quickly. “Come in, son. You’re letting all the warm air out.” Spurred into action, he clanked his way into the foyer of the church and closed one door while Gary closed the other. Once inside, he looked to the cross on the far side of the church and gave a well-practiced gesture of obeisance. That religious gesture done, the knight turned his head to Remmy and spoke once more.
“Father Wikloss, the Inquisitor requests your timely presence at the storage gaol. You are to summon the Delvers who recovered the curse weapon to meet us there as well.”
“We’re in luck, then. He’s right there.” Remmy pointed an elderly finger at Gary and got a puffed up and proud look in return. The knight looked at the gray-eyed youth and Gary could almost feel the dubious suspicion rolling off the man. He relented after Remmy didn’t declare it a joke, and actually glared slightly at the man’s rudeness. “Gary, since we’re going to be dealing with that spear you recovered I think it’d be wise for you to get your armor on. Just in case.”
“On it.” Gary moved quickly towards his room and in short order returned to the entrance to find the knight alone. Settling his crimson cloak across his shoulders but not yet drawing it closed, Gary stood and looked at the knight quietly. Remmy rejoined them shortly with his own cloak and some heavier clothes under his vestments. The trio began their walk out of the church, Remmy stopping for a moment to place a sign on a nail outside to indicate he wasn’t in the church to offer services at that time. As they walked calmly through the city their little procession drew attention; mostly because of the armored knight.
Gary had found it odd the man wasn’t riding a horse, but it was probably a deferential move towards Remmy since at his age riding a horse would be a daunting task; System-enhanced body or no. As they walked, Remmy spoke aloud.
“I’m surprised it took you such little time to get here. I wasn’t expecting you for at least two more months.”
The knight fell back to stand alongside Remmy opposite Gary in order to converse more respectfully. “The Inquisitor was actually nearby across the border when we heard about a curse weapon being found in Limeroom. The Reclaimers made haste here once our ranks were refilled from Quinloz.” Gary’s confusion must have been obvious as Remmy turned his gaze towards him and chose to explain.
“Our plate-clad friend here is from the Luminous Reclaimers. They’re a branch of the church’s Holy Order who specialize in retrieving and destroying curse weapons.” A nod encouraged him to go on. “You’ll note that they don’t wear the crimson like the rest of the clergy. It’s because of an old superstition that wearing the primary color of the church causes you to be particularly vulnerable to the dark sway of those blasted things.”
“I don’t see how you could be attracted to that unless you’re a full-on mad killer. Thing felt slimy in my hands.. And not the way a creature secretes slime to help it live.” The knight grunted in acknowledgement.
“It’s interesting you say that. Some people get a hold of one and.. Well.. There’s a reason I’m wearing armor.” It was Gary’s turn to grunt. “Don’t get me wrong; it’s a good thing you don’t like touching them. It also shows a great mental fortitude. They corrupt the soul as easily as they cleave the flesh.”
The trio walked a bit more, Gary learning valuable information along the way that Quinloz was this world’s Vatican in effect. They had a whole country of pretty good size further to the east past Ridiana’s borders, with a few other countries in the way between them. A clearly functional and prosperous theocracy. It also helped him fill in his mental map that he was on Ridiana’s eastern border here in Limeroom. Remmy was keeping quiet about the extent to which Gary was devouring information and played it off as offering education to someone who’d not been exposed to that information growing up.
As they walked, the Reclaimer looked over at Gary and asked a question. “The cloth looks good on you, boy. Is the Father preparing you to join the clergy?” Gary smiled professionally at the man. He’d gotten used to being called a boy by the older people around here. He simply had let it go at one point and never picked the annoyance at it back up.
He shook his head as he replied. “No, actually. He was kind enough to take me in when I first came to Limeroom, and I’ve been helping him with minor things like repairs and cleaning. If you’re around here long enough you might see me in a cassock, but that was Remmy’s idea since I’m staying in a church and am helping do church things I should at least dress the part… Minus anything that actually would mark me as a priest, mind.”
“..So long as you’re not carrying yourself as one, it should be fine.” They had exited the city by this point and were headed towards a structure that was squat and intimidating in the landscape of Limeroom. Gary had seen it in his goings but hadn’t felt it worth asking about. It had to be the storage gaol. The second thing he noticed as they got closer was there were a lot of near-identical Reclaimers milling about with the purpose of keeping the surroundings clear of anyone who might come too close to the gaol. Gary reached up and pulled out his Delver medallion as they approached. “Reclaimer Smith has returned with the reporting priest and Delver responsible for the weapon’s capture,” the man loudly announced, drawing whatever attention had not been on them before.
Several of the seemingly older ones - mostly men from what Gary could see but there were a few obviously feminine figures in the same style of armor - looked towards the tall teenager with surprise and then past him as if expecting other people to be coming up behind them. Gary huffed in annoyance and set his arms on his hips, revealing his own half-plate and belt full of weapons to the assembled holy warriors. The implication of his gesture wasn’t lost on the crowd as it accompanied a subtle shift between each armored figure that created a low, rumbling creak of metal across the area.
Remmy lightly tapped Gary’s nearest arm with the back of his hand; a silent admonition to reel himself in. He gave the old priest a glance before simply closing his cloak and standing there under the gazes from the Luminous Reclaimers washing over him harmlessly. The old man stepped forward and slightly in front of Gary, clearly lending whatever authority he wielded to Gary’s claim.
“I can vouch for the lad. He went out alone and returned alone, bearing the fallen he could recover and the weapon that felled them.” Gary watched as the tension largely left the assembled knightley figures at Remmy proclamation, leaving him to wonder again exactly how much pull Remmy actually had. The evidence was mounting that he wasn’t a simple elderly priest in a border city but it wasn’t anything to really challenge him about.
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The somewhat thin crowd seemed to part as they noticed someone coming from a large command-style tent set up beside the gaol’s squat structure. Being a bit taller than all but a couple of people here he was afforded fleeting glimpses of a nun’s black veil and white bandeau bobbing in a woman’s gait over the shoulders of those in back. Quickly the crowd of armor parted to fully reveal a woman maybe a year or two Gary’s senior.
[https://i.imgur.com/ZBzHrbm.jpg]
Long black hair peeked out from under the bandeau - clearly a fashion statement and reminder that the rules of this religion’s dress code weren’t exactly like Earth’s - and that was probably due to the lack of a coif. The red bow-secured wimple was a small and thin band of black edged with golden trim around her neck and the tops of her shoulders. The overgarment wasn’t a proper habit but instead a jacket-like coat fully buttoned up over her torso; boasting mutton sleeves decorated with bits of gold-trimmed white fabric that came out from under her wimple to drape over the puffy shoulder parts. These bore an ornate cross in the center of each of the four strips of cloth entirely in the church’s crimson. A white apron-like piece of cloth he’d generously call a skirt-tabard bore more religious symbolism in golden thread while the main skirt behind it was black again.
She presented a surprisingly regal figure as she came to stand at the forefront of the armored Reclaimers to regard Remmy and more intensely Gary. Her eyes were a very vivid blue, a hue he wanted to call azure but seemed to shine as if it were subtly backlit with a neon light. A womanly concession she clearly offered herself was a rouge eyeshadow that extended along with her long fluttery eyelashes, giving her blue eyes even more pop than the color did alone.
Gary looked over her outfit again - goddamnit, were there no women on Veotera smaller than D-cups?! - and noticed the rapier at her left hip. The ornate design had hidden itself on his first pass among the decoration involved in her skirt, but even from the angle he had on it the weapon practically reeked of ornate status symbol. He quickly clocked the enormous pearl on the pommel caged in very sturdy gold-trimmed steel, and concluded the blade was probably a combat relqa. She carried herself like a veteran, as well. Gary had plenty of time growing up to see professional soldiers and the way they moved without wasted motions. This young woman screamed ‘hardened commander’.
“Inquisitor Seraphina de Lys greets you, Father Wikloss. I hope this day finds you and your flock well?” Her voice was smooth, the odd faint British-like accent he’d come to associate with Common Veoteran failing beneath something he’d call more of a Eastern European-like purr? Something he hesitated to call a curtsey was given to the man Gary had been living with; the motion more like a twenty-degree bow at the waist as she swept her skirts up in her grip to raise them a little bit in a respectful gesture. Remmy met it with a slightly deeper bow, his hand placed across his lower chest in a gesture Gary was at the wrong angle to see properly.
“It does, Inquisitor. Limeroom is grateful to the Luminous Reclaimers for your swift response. Hearts will rest easier with such a foul artifact destroyed.” Seraphina gave a gracious nod and looked at Gary. A slight frown creased her neutral expression as she saw him wearing the church’s color of cloak but clearly not recognizing his status. She was looking slightly but noticeably up at him and he locked eyes with her. The two stood there in the crisp air; silvery gray battling neon azure and neither backing down. She clearly decided to at least act like the bigger person and lowered her head in a far less elaborate bow to him. Gary decided to let the challenge in her gaze slide.
“Gary Zavon, Delver,” he said in greeting himself as he took the opportunity. He gave a roughly forty-five degree bow, which allowed his cloak to slide open again revealing he was in his half-plate and armed to the teeth. “I was the one who recovered the weapon.”
“The Church mourns your lost comrades, Mister Zavon. I will pray for their souls.” Gary smirked at her response, her face creasing back into that frown.
“As Father Wikloss said, I did it alone. Just me, myself, and I.” Gary decided against saying that the lady’s ghost had offered something of a tour. No need to trigger a ghost hunt for someone who wasn’t hurting anyone, if she was even still in the mortal world after he and Remmy had seen to her remains. The poor woman had suffered far more than enough.
Seraphina’s face showed a flicker of surprise at the statement before settling into what Gary was starting to think was her version of a game face. The placid expression somehow suited her, and she decided to move the conversation elsewhere. She offered a half-step as she moved to her back foot and pivoted back towards the tent across the way. “Come. We should get into a warmer place as I hear the recounting of how you came across the curse weapon. There are questions about the environs that Delvers are unaware to ask about, and we must ensure the site of the weapon’s ascension is properly consecrated to ensure no lingering ill fate for the local populace.”
Prim, proper, using a tone that expected prompt obedience; yes, this woman was definitely not a showpiece for these guys. Remmy took up the offer immediately, Gary hanging back a pair of steps as the raven-haired nun slid flawlessly into step behind the priest like it was the most natural thing in the world. Gary leveled a look at the gaol as they made for the tent.
It took a minute or two of walking to get to the command tent. It was a large, heavy-clothed structure and as Gary stepped through the tiny mudroom-like entrance and made it past the second set of curtains to the innards a feeling of bright warmth suffused the air. He’d noted that in the mudroom he’d had to step up onto a thin wooden platform to enter the main tent, and found it to be stately in its simplicity.
The room was dominated by a table that looked to be foldable, the rectangle a few feet on one side and slightly longer in the length of the tent. Upon the floor was set a low-slung brazier that upon closer inspection was actually clearly a relqa. The glow was from a trio of rubies ringed by eight alexandrites blowing the heated air the rubies created through the tent. At the far end of the structure was a walled-off section with a simple flap. Gary guessed that was where she had her sleeping quarters.
Seraphina offered a seat to Remmy and slid it in for him, and did the same for Gary as he sat beside Remmy on one of the long sections. The Inquisitor quietly busied herself putting a kettle on the boil by setting it into the nest created by the rubies and getting a decorated wooden container ready alongside three simple wooden cups. Satisfied with the arrangements thus far, the woman primly sat in a chair on the opposite side of the two men and folded her hands in her lap under the table.
“I hope you forgive my rough hospitality. We moved with speed so my proper effects are still in transit.”
“No issues, Inquisitor. Any hospitality is welcome from a younger sister of the cloth.” Gary gave Remmy a look, and Remmy gave him one back with a twinkle in his old eyes. Gary lightly shook his head in amusement as he looked at Seraphina.
“I suppose you’d like the story from the beginning,” Gary asked as he settled in for what was going to be a politely-dressed interrogation. She bobbed her head but before Gary could open his mouth to speak she spoke first.
“If you would be so kind as to grace this servant of God with the tale, I would be grateful.” He nodded and began speaking.
“On the day in question I went to the local branch of the Delvers in search of a contract for the day. The head of the branch - a man named Jack - knew of my strength and made a request of me to check into a local hotspot for Undead activity that had seen an uptick in the number of monsters that prowled it’s grounds.”
“..Undead?” Seraphina tilted her head at the word. Gary ran the statement over in his head and realized he’d used English to say the word instead of Veoteran. He vaguely waved a hand.
“A word from my home for the type of monsters that inhabited the place; in this case Skeletons. It means a type of monster that is made from corpses, spirits of the deceased, and things of that ilk that are not.. able to remain in their graves. Not alive once more, but the dead forced into a grim parody of life. Hence ‘Undead’.” He sounded the word out in the Veoteran language this time; making sure not to slip his language back into English. Seraphina and Remmy both looked at him; she in confusion and he in greater comprehension.
“..That Skill you received, Gary. You’re saying that…”
“「Gentle In Death」 would allow me to walk safely among such creatures as long as I’m respectful, and keep the deceased from becoming Undead by honoring them in some way. Yes. The Undead are famous for either their hatred or their hunger for the living, depending on the exact type in question.”
Seraphina was listening in on the exchange as she mulled over the implications of what Gary was describing. A tiny repeating nod of her head set her bangs to swaying a little as the Inquisitor wrapped her head around the description of the monster type and it’s implications. “The dead unable to rest peacefully. Such a fate is worse than the most heinous death. I take it you have not left such tortured things be?” Gary nodded once and continued.
“So Jack asked me to step in and investigate the site out of concern that the uptick was part of a precursor event to the emergence of a dungeon in the area. Turned out he was right on both counts. So I made my way to an abandoned manor to the southeast of Limeroom and began to inspect the grounds in question. I observed the grounds were covered in a semi-thick fog that remained in the confines of the manor’s admittedly crumbling outer wall, and noted a far greater number of Skeletons than was reported as normal for the site.”
“A site where a curse weapon stews is often as you describe. Shrouded by some obscuring aura even in the height of glaring daylight. I presume you made your way inside dispatching the Skeletons as you went?”
“No, actually. I chose to observe how they moved without interacting with them or setting foot on the grounds. The stories go that less intelligent Undead sometimes repeat familiar actions they did in life on endless repeat. Going on this line of thinking I noted that the Skeletons were patrolling the grounds trying to tend to them before going to their next objective. Seeing this and knowing the details about this site that the Skeletons did not wander far from the place gave me an idea to try. I went up to the gate, knocked loudly on it, and requested entry.”
The two clergy members looked at him in open shock. That was clearly beyond the most audacious thing they’d probably heard in a long time and before Seraphina could do more than open her mouth to begin speaking the kettle started making progressively louder kettle noises and she turned away from the story to retrieve the container. Well-oiled motions seemed to bring her back down to even greater calm as she deftly revealed the wooden container to have tea leaves. What followed was a brief interlude of the Inquisitor making the three of them simple mugs of hot tea. Gary had to admit he enjoyed having something other than alcohol to drink. He let his cup’s worth steep a little longer as he spoke up.
“So I announced myself, waited, and the gate was opened by a Skeleton for me. I stepped inside the grounds, made my way to the door, and politely requested entry into the house. This was granted without the Skeletons doing more than watching me ominously.”
“Ridiculous.” Seraphina was clearly reading his face, and Gary swore he saw the glow in her eyes flickering the further he went on with the recounting. “In the entire history of the Luminous Reclaimers there has never been an instance of the surrounding monsters just letting people in! We have needed to fight our way through Skeletons and insect monsters and even full Demons to gain even a foothold in the curse weapon’s domain. Did you use that Skill you mentioned to gain entry?”
Gary smiled as he took a tiny sip of the hot tea in his cup. The heat hadn’t had time to draw out much flavor but it was clearly the good stuff as far as tea went. “I got that later as a reward. The way I figured it, the place was a manor and the Skeletons were being as though servants going about servant work. Who do servants answer to? Masters. My requests were directed to that master, and they were answered. Since it was a manor that had to be some sort of noble, so I requested entry the way one would request entry into a noble’s home.. And to my great surprise, the lady of the house met me in the foyer.”
“..What?”