1:27 P.M.

February 12

Frostmonth 14

Inquisitor Seraphina de Lys’ Command Tent, Limeroom, Veotera

Seraphina de Lys walked back into her tent, healed of her wounds but with a heavily wounded pride. The elderly priest Father Remmy Wikloss followed her back into the tent and finally she let her mask of serene calm slip as she sat down shakily at one of the chairs around her tent’s table. She took a shuddering breath and gave in to the groan of ache that she’d been holding in while outside with her subordinates. Without missing a beat, Father Wikloss sat back down in his chair from before and regarded her with a semi-helpless look that stated ‘That was a bad idea’.

“By Saint Deland’s beard, how have you been living with that monster this whole time,” she hissed as she flopped her upper torso down on the tabletop. She felt her breasts being squished up into the way as she lightly thunked her bandeau-covered forehead down onto the wood and groaned. Remmy reached over the table and patted the top of her head with his fingertips trying to offer comfort but just reminding her of how that Delver had acted when she submitted to him.

“He’s not all that bad, my dear. He’s just intense when it comes to combat and things that threaten him or those around him. When one isn’t leveling a sword at him he’s a very polite and respectable soul.”

Seraphina shuddered at the thoughts in her head. The young man was very clearly trained in combat, and thanks to his connection to the System clearly had strong abilities. She had barely been able to keep up with him, and her own Skills were largely useless thanks to his raw speed and frankly dishonorable tactics. Without looking up, she murmured a question in her Quinlozian accent. “That last Skill.. He could have killed me, yes?”

“Within seconds. He did it like that simply to drop you out of your rage, I think. He could have simply swung one of those ‘tomahawks’ into thin air and your head would have an ax-shaped hole in it the moment you started the duel. That’s a recently acquired ability, truth be told; but he already understood the combat implications of being able to ‘strike from literally any angle’ as he put it.”

She groaned a little louder as she rubbed at her side where he’d given her a horrible-feeling punch. Even after being healed the pain was lingering and making it hard for her to breathe properly. She was probably still going to bruise even after the Father’s expert care. She looked up at Father Wikloss and scrutinized his face even as she began murmuring a prayer to calm her nerves.

"In the radiant glow of the divine, I beseech thee, O Guiding Light, to shield this unworthy servant from the shadows that seek to obscure the path of righteousness. Grant me strength to resist the whispers of doubt and the fortitude to face the malevolent forces that test my faith. May your luminous grace be my armor, and may the sacred purpose that courses through my veins repel all that would tarnish the sanctity of my devotion. In your holy name, I find refuge and strength. Amen."

He smiled at the self-directed prayer to try and rally her faith back to her thought processes. The old man leaned back into his chair and regarded her with a slight bit of pity as he lightly shrugged. “Gary takes some getting used to, but he’s a fine young man. He’s not very religious, but has gone out of his way to help me with my work at Saint Shepherd’s.”

“A lack of faith is a worrisome sign, Father. Coupled with the fact he is a Plunderer…”

Father Wikloss smiled at that statement. “On the contrary, Inquisitor. He has a lack of faith because he is a creature of purpose. He sees the world through the lens of the secular and attempts to navigate it with the goal of coming out on the other side not filthy with innocent blood; thus not having the energy to spare to worship the divine. He agonized over the fact that’s his Class for a while, only accepting it when he saw a way to make it work for more wholesome purposes. That attitude you speak with about his Class is one he has strove from the first day to defeat through the way he carries himself and acts according to a virtuous moral code that abhors evil regardless of source.”

To hear such a venerable priest of the clergy openly praise someone of such might was disconcerting to the young woman. The way his gray eyes flashed silver in the light of day and the eye-searing glow of Luminescent Serenity had given her chills. She had stared into the eyes of a predator and now understood that he hadn't deemed her worthy of his best. Even the way he’d been so casual about approaching a duel with someone so clearly high-ranked and as he found out well-armed and armored had spoken of the fact he knew he could kill at any moment. To think someone like him was bound by a secular code and not faith to God?

“Someone as powerful as him would be a great asset to the Holy Order, Father. Have you spoken to him about conversion to the faith? Between us the baptism would be strongly blessed.”

“He seems to have an aversion to talk of faith, to be honest. His upbringing reeks of a warrior house, and while he is respectful of our faith he has no great enthusiasm for or against it.”

“It’s known in my homeland as being ‘agnostic’, Remmy.” The gray-eyed Delver chose that moment to make himself known by stepping through the entryway to the inner part of the tent; tall form standing upright once past the door to reveal a largely-pristine appearance. That unusual design of armor allowed him to move like a ghost, only rattling with the familiar sounds of armor when the plates came into contact with something. He sat down in his chair from before and regarded Seraphina with an assessing look that flickered for a moment towards her breasts squished against the table in a very unladylike disposition before back to her face and finally to Father Wikloss. The path of his eyes was easy to track, at least. She finally sat up as she let the two men talk.

“I am not familiar with that word, Gary,” the priest said simply. This was probably a familiar tone of conversation to have if they’d spent a month together. Gary shrugged a bit and began explaining.

“Back home, there’s multiple religions.” Seraphina sat straight up and despite the flicker of pain from getting her side punched she maintained a stern interest. Gary’s eyes flicked to her for a moment before going back to Father Wikloss. “Some believe in a single omnipotent creator deity, others a collection. The sources span the breadth of human existence and came of trying to make sense of the natural world and it’s laws. There are people who are of varying strength of faith who range from ‘technically this denomination’ to frothing-at-the-mouth zealots. Others reject the idea of the divine altogether and mock anyone who doesn’t share that view as mentally ill. I am in the third of these major camps: the agnostic. I do not believe in the divine, but I do not reject the possibility of their existence out of hand. Agnostics are more of a ‘provide me overwhelming evidence one way or the other, and I’ll go that way’ approach.”

Seraphina frowned at this idea, again drawing a look from those sharp gray eyes. There was only one God, and to question His existence was blasphemy of the highest order. Gary leveled a stern finger at her when she was about to open her mouth.

“Shush.” His single word made her stop in a flash of worry, his tone having brooked no disobedience. “I know you fall very firmly into the lower levels of ‘zealot’, Inquisitor. I am not mocking your faith in any way, shape, or form. It has clearly brought you far, and is thus the right path for you. I was taught from a very young age to live as virtuous a life as I can so that if the divine is real, I will be judged on my actions and not my words or lack thereof. History is filthy with examples of people who use religion as a tool to commit great sweeping evils, and so I choose to keep it at arm’s length. Your very work is an example of the way I strive to live my life; conversely. ‘Actions speak louder than words’.”

The Inquisitor had no response to the admonition. It was true that people had abused their authority before and would do so again. His approach was a sound one even as it rankled her zeal to not have such a strong voice exulting God. Few actually tried to live good lives, and fell to sin and depravity due to their lust for power or nature. Her head bowed as she folded her hands into her lap.

“God, please forgive this servant her reckless ignorance.” Gary’s stern gaze relented as he felt he’d made his point. He waved the stiff air away and leaned back into the chair with a far more relaxed posture than before. “I would humbly ask; what exactly did you do to me?”

He looked curious at the thrust of the question. “The liver shot, or the stabbing you with your own rapier?”

“..Both.”

“Ah. The liver shot is a tactic for bare-handed fighting. Remmy can attest to my proficiency at it. The exact way and place I struck you let me send a lot of blunt force to your liver, and triggered a pained and panicked state in the nerves there. There’s a few other places I could have hit you to get a similar effect, but one would have required I be in the line of attack of your rapier to go for the diaphragm and the other I pull knives and stab you in the kidneys.”

The matter of fact way he spoke and waved his left hand in vague gestures as he casually spoke of inflicting harm upon her was disconcerting. Father Wikloss’ assessment of this young man being from a martial household was gaining more weight with every word.

“The other one?” A toothy grin split his face. “The other one is a Skill I picked up roughly a week ago now. It’s not anywhere near as strong as I’d like it, but there’s ways I can fix that.” The grin got wider. Seraphina looked over to Father Wikloss who had seemed to become slightly paler as he recalled something. The elderly priest nodded lightly to her.

“Young Gary here is a very strong individual. Since you’ll be nearby for a while as your baggage catches up, it will be highly likely you hear a story about him finding, helping to conquer, and ultimately destroying a dungeon in less than a day. I swear on my soul it is all true. I am an eyewitness to the birth of a miracle.” The raven-haired woman stopped moving and simply stared at the priest. The priest casually looked back, his face losing perhaps another half-shade of color as he replayed memories from the alleged event.

Such a thing. If his surviving a curse weapon’s crucible was nigh impossible in her mind, she couldn’t even begin to wrap her mind around destroying a dungeon. Such a thing was impossible. Those openings were the bane of life on Veotera; gateways for monsters to invade and pillage and rape and murder and eat… And yet. Her azure eyes moved to Gary’s face to find his grin had turned feral in amusement at the shock on her face.

“I’d hesitate to call it a miracle, Remmy. But I would agree it’s the turning point of an age.”

“You. You.. How?! Not even God’s most faithful can steal the world back from the threatening shadows of dungeons! All we can do is contain the monsters and.. And…” Gary reached over and gently poked the tip of her nose playfully.

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“Boop.” She stopped her thoughts and focused on the playful action even as her mind whirled at the casual, almost heretical lack of urgency this Delver displayed. His smile toned down from feral joy to sly amusement. “I think I reset her, Remmy. How’s Pearl magic for mental breakdowns?”

“Poor, I’m afraid. I think you may have broken the poor thing. God knows you’ve given me such a headache with this lax attitude of yours.” The two men shared a laugh at what was clearly a running joke between them before Gary turned his attention back to Seraphina.

“To answer you, I will speak of a fact that will eventually become public knowledge; probably already on its way to the halls of power here in Ridiana and the damnable Velvet Court alike as we speak. I am a Plunderer. I am a strong Plunderer… And what better Plunder could there be than to steal the unstealable?” It rankled her to admit that thought made a lot of sense. “So I decided to steal the power of a dungeon, and the result is why you got stabbed in the ass with your own sword just now.”

“..They have to know. The Church has to know! This is-!” Gary’s hand snaked out as she made to shoot to her feet and caught her arm before she could properly rise. A tug brought her back down to her seat.

“Remmy’s already sent word. And as I said the halls of power will be aware soon enough; especially when I start doing it consistently. It’ll be a while before I get to everyone, so just be patient.” Seraphina blinked slowly in shock at the casual attitude this Delver continued to display about probably the single most important event since the advent of the System, treating it like he was talking about the weather being sunny tomorrow. “I can only do the big thing like once a week, so even with transit time I’d be making a full career out of doing nothing but that. There are things to be done in the meantime.”

Seraphina’s heart was starting to have conniptions as she leaned back and placed a hand close to her heart as if she could calm the bundle of muscles down through sheer willpower. This had far-reaching implications. If he could steal the power of a dungeon, what else could he steal? It didn’t seem like this Plunderer was limited to physical objects. What if he got power-hungry? The tone here was that he got stronger with his ‘stealing the unstealable’, but was there an upper limit? Could he keep stealing and taking until he became unchallengeable? Her eyes closed as she began weighing the paths before her against her own moral code. She alone didn’t have the strength to take on this young man and bind him into her service. She had the distinctly unpleasant feeling of knowing that he’d exact a bloody toll for any attempt to subdue him.

“I can see the thoughts in your head, Inquisitor.” Her eyes fluttered open to find him looking dead at her, judgment nowhere on his face but a dangerous glint in his eyes. “You’re concerned about the power creeping up on me and going to my head. It’s a perfectly valid concern, but I was raised to be of sterner stuff. Every bit of power I have or will acquire is for the good of others. I have entire millennia of knowledge and philosophy screaming at me to beware getting drunk on my own power. There are lives I can save, and I intend to do so.”

She was quiet as he spoke. The way his tone changed, his posture tensed; she had heard this way of speaking before. She’d heard it from those preaching to the faithful, she had heard it from generals rallying their troops, she’d heard it from her own lips more times than she cared to recall. This was a man with conviction.

“..The strength of the secular mindset?” Gary smiled a little and she realized she’d spoken aloud without thinking.

“The phrase you’re looking for is probably ‘He’s a man on a mission’. And yes, I absolutely am.” He looked down and brushed at some imagined spot on his armor plates as he decided to change the subject. “A question. Do the Delvers have branches in Quinloz?”

“No, they do not. The Holy Order is the chamber militant of the Church, and we provide the functions of town guard, Delver, and army.” Gary made a rolling ‘hnn’ noise as he digested that information.

“I would ask a small favor from you, then. Would you get in touch with the local branch of the Delvers and send something official back home? I’ve got him reaching out to find information on the location of more dungeons, and I’d like to have a list I can reference from all over. Since your nation doesn’t have a branch I would have to ask someone with some pull to get me the information.”

“Consider it done, Delver Zavon. I can see the way you carry yourself and you have a glowing reference from Father Wikloss. Even if it takes some time, I am certain the request will be granted; especially once you repeat this miracle a few more times. To warn you, there will be many who doubt you on your journey until they see it with their own eyes.”

“Thank you. You’ll be looking for Jack in the tavern ‘The Unusual Huntress’. I’m not expecting it for some time, so there’s no need to put any sort of urgent rush on it. This is a long-term project.” She bowed her head at the knowledge the intent was there.

“God bless your work. He smiles upon those who do good in this world.” Seraphina winced as she stood up as a twinge in her side where he’d hit her in the liver was still giving her trouble. “But I have a duty to perform, regardless of my physical state. We should see to this curse weapon. My personal matters are of secondary consideration compared to our holy work. Are you both still capable?”

“I am prepared for my duty, Inquisitor.” Remmy stood back up and straightened his vestments as he waited to move out. Gary stood as well, and not for the first time Seraphina looked over his build. She would have to see about visiting his hometown and find out if there were more like him. The Luminous Reclaimers would greatly benefit from people of even half his moral fiber. He was also admittedly a treat to look at, from a womanly perspective. Strong features, strong form, and he clearly knew how to move his body.

“I’m good to go, too. I’ll be happy that the damn spear is gone. Thing gives me the creeps.”

“Then let us proceed to the gaol. There are ritual rites that must be attended to, so it will take a few hours. I thank you both for your patience in this matter.” She gave a small curtsey and moved to lead the procession. Her swishing hips seemed to draw the attention of Gary’s gaze and she could feel it for a moment before he spoke up.

“..Does your relqa come with a cleaning function? Your skirt’s pretty bloody back here.” She felt a little heat in her cheeks as she flicked a tiny spark of mana into the hidden gemstones woven into her garments and knew without looking that the blood he spoke of simply flittered out of the cloth to fade into sparkles of vanishing light and the two puncture wounds from her rapier mended themselves silently. “Ha! I knew your outfit was a damn relqa!” He said it like it was some sort of triumph to figure out, but she knew most people rarely saw one in their daily lives. To be able to pick out that detail from earlier meant his eyes were as sharp as they looked.

“Indeed,” she said with a tone she hoped didn’t give away the slight embarrassment she still felt about the wound he’d given her as she composed herself and stepped outside the tent as the calm, pious commander she was.

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The procession descended into the gaol’s bowels, Seraphina at the lead. A handful of Reclaimers were already in position at the consecrated altar in the heart of places like this; candles, sacred incense, and vivid crimson cloth placed lovingly onto a stone altar with embedded emeralds and rubies laid in a pattern around four empty slots in the corners of the rectangular stone surface. Her azure gaze turned to the heavy locked iron grate set into the floor behind the altar, and she stepped around to stand before it. Four armored men came to the corners of the grate and at a signaling twitch of her hands held primly at her waist the holy warriors grasped a sturdy ring each and with a grunt lifted the grate out of its mooring in the floor.

They marched in unspoken lockstep further into the rear of the wide central chamber, revealing the spear that lay discarded on the plain stone floor. Seraphina descended the three wide stone steps into the small pit, gave herself a complicated warding gesture, and spoke in a ceremonious tone into the otherwise silent air.

“O Radiant God, protect your servant as I grasp the darkness of evil and bring it into Your Light to break the evil it contains upon Your sacred altar!” She stooped and firmly grasped the haft of the spear. She grimaced despite herself. Never was she going to get used to this feeling of cradling writhing rotten flesh in her hands. It was always horrible every time she touched the things, and she found herself wishing for the millionth time to be holding actual rotting meat instead of these evil things. This was her task, however; and it would be done perfectly.

She stood back up to her full height and turned sharply on her heel. The marching sound of her shoes on stone as she ascended from the back of the altar was the only sound now. Once at the rear edge of the altar, she held the spear aloft for the gathered people to see. Gary’s face was one of open disgust, while Father Wikloss had taken a couple steps back due to the Skill priests had to identify these evil tools making him ill. Thankfully she didn’t have the training to pick that one up.

The spear was laid down on the altar and she was finally able to release the writhing-but-not thing from her grasp. Four more of the Reclaimers came to each of the corners and presented an ornate cross each. These were far stronger versions of a priest’s healing relqa but designed for a singular purpose. Each cross slotted into the holes in the corners of the altar, angled so their fronts all faced inwards to present the inlaid pearls towards the curse weapon.

She took a deep breath and raised her hands up and over the spear, closing her eyes as she spoke in a loud and ringing voice. "O Radiant Guardian, in this hallowed moment, we beseech your divine presence. As these cursed instruments of darkness rest upon this sacred altar, grant us the strength to banish their malevolence from our midst. Let your holy light purify and consume the shadows that cling to these artifacts. In your name, we dedicate ourselves to the pursuit of purity and the protection of all that is sacred. Amen."

A chorus of “Amen” echoed from the crowd, and with a gritting of her teeth she triggered the altar. It was actually a giant relqa in its own right, but was inactive until those particular types of crosses were slotted into the corners. It kept anyone from accidentally draining themselves or trying to perform the Rite of Destruction by themselves. The Inquisitor felt her Mana Reserves being pulled and clawed out of her. These altars were always greedy, but with joy in her heart she gave willingly.

The four pearls gleamed with a warm soft yellow light that quickly went stark white. The emeralds flickered green and the rubies flared with heat. As she held her eyes closed directing the device she knew what was happening. The Emerald magic broke apart the physical object with a shattering vibration, the Ruby magic burned the remains to useless slag and ash, and the Pearl magic bathed the area in holy energies to destroy the curse at the most base level. Externally it looked like the weapon was jerking and jumping up and down in place as it broke down under the harsh glare of lights from the four crosses; the display meant to be symbolic that evil would destroy itself in the end.

With a final sundering crack the curse weapon finally surrendered as the dark magics that held it together could not sustain their form as their weapon-shaped shell fell apart. It leapt into the air from the vibrations, turned to ash and slag in midair, and clattered uselessly onto the stone altar as the light was the last to fade. She finally cut off the flow of mana and struggled to maintain herself in the ritual’s prescribed gestures as she gently retracted her arms to place both hands over her bosom above where her heart was.

“We thank you for your mercy, O God. Let this humble servant offer gratitude to You for the gifts bestowed unto us who serve Your Light. Another tool of the wicked-hearted has been sundered, and with it lives have been saved. Please watch over us as we go forth in search of more in service of Life. Amen.” She opened her eyes in a fluttering manner to observe the gathering of Reclaimers, the elderly priest, and the lone outsider that was Gary Zavon. He’d probably been watching the whole time with rapt attention.

“With this, the Ritual of Destruction is concluded. Bring forth the Vessel of Remnants!” Her ringing command brought a duo of Reclaimers to the front of the altar with a heavy-looking iron-bound stone jar. She produced a key for the ornate lock atop the jar’s lid and presented it to one of the warriors. They took it, opened the lid, and carefully bundled up the crimson cloth that bore the ashes and slag of the ruined spear before depositing it into the jar. They were careful to not stick their hand down into it as they lowered the bundle and replaced the lid. The lock was re-engaged, the key returned, and the jar carried away under additional guard.

Seraphina nodded at the smoothness of the ceremony. This was a good thing. She didn’t have to give a eulogy this time. That made her happy.

“Before we part, I would speak on a matter. I must apologize publicly for my rudeness towards the Delver in our midst.” Gary was locked onto her, not caring about the looks the Reclaimers were giving him. “I was wrong to doubt your strength, and wrong to doubt your conviction. The challenge I issued to you was done out of distrust, and I understand how wrong it was.”

“Think nothing of it, Inquisitor. It is better to doubt and test than to blindly accept and be betrayed. You did your duty, and nothing needs to be forgiven for that. Understand you are in good standing with me and I will challenge anyone who speaks otherwise.”

She bowed a little at the waist and he nodded back. So he understood politicking a bit as well. A public apology and a polite acceptance, followed by an offer to uphold her honor in her stead if needed. It only made her more curious about his origins. Seraphina decided she needed to speak more deeply with Father Wikloss about this young man. There was an air around him that set something in her soul aquiver.

I’d hesitate to call it a miracle, Remmy. But I would agree it’s the turning point of an age. It was the way he’d said that sentence, she decided. No one spoke that way without utter confidence.