"Weckerton? Why would you want to go to Weckerton?" asked Magister Elmar, looking up from the volume he was studying, spectacles gleaming in the cascade of morning light that poured through the dirty window.

"It's my family, Magister. I'm from Weckerton you see, before I joined the Order. It may be a small town, but they are good people." Delvin reasoned. "Many of them work the fields for a living, and don't have the means to travel to Redhaven to see a Priest, so if they get injured or take ill..." he trailed off.

"I see... Yes, Weckerton is a... quaint town". Elmar stood up, moving to examine the map of Fonere painted on the wall behind him. "So... isolated... without a priest of their own, I fear such towns may forget the grace of Aleria..." Elmar stroked the map mournfully, tracing his fingers from Redhaven, south to Weckerton. The map wall was old and worn, its once immaculate face now faded from gradual exposure to the daylight.

"How long do you need?" Elmar asked over his shoulder, head slightly turned.

"I can be back here in a week, on horseback"

"A week, then." Elmar agreed. "Oh, and Delvin, be sure to bring some militiamen with you. The roads have grown quite perilous since the war began, even this far east."

"Actually, Magister, I was hoping to take a Cleric with me... Cleric Taryn, specifically..."

"Taryn? That girl could not mend a wound if her life depended on it. What good would bringing her do?"

"This could be a fine opportunity for her to practice her rites." reasoned Delvin, hoping to sway the Magister.

The elderly priest stroked his beard, pondering the idea. "She has had ample opportunity to practice, and still she struggles to cast even basic incantations."

"Yes Magister, but I believe she has the makings of a great Cleric. And besides, she is very skilled with a weapon, so our safety on the roads will not be in doubt."

Magister Elmar thought on this for a moment before conceding. "Very well, boy. One week, no more. Remind the people of Weckerton that their God has not forgotten them..."

Delvin gave a slight bow before turning to leave.

"Oh and Delvin..."

"Yes, Magister?"

"Teach that girl to heal a bloody flesh wound, would you? She would be of far more use on pavilion duty if she could manage the basics, yes?"

"Of course, Magister. I will do what I can."

Delvin retreated from the study, closing the oak doors behind him.

"Well?" Taryn asked as she fiddled anxiously with a wrought iron sconce that hung just down the hall.

"One week. Just barely enough time to make it there and back, if all goes to plan."

Preparations for the journey were rushed, as the pair did not want to waste any time. They took minimal supplies with them - enough to reach Weckerhaven without slowing them down. The young acolytes of Aleria made their way through the streets of Grey Orchard as they approached the canal that cleft Redhaven into its significantly larger - and poorer - side, and the smaller though more eminent merchant district of Chalk Hook. Chalk Hook was the beating heart of Redhaven, playing host to the majority of the city's more profitable enterprises, as well as the Governor's castle.

Crossing the bridge over the canal, Delvin looked longingly across the bay to the ocean. Redhaven had been good to him, and had given him the opportunity to learn the fundamentals of magic, but his heart sank whenever he considered the possibility of this city being his home for the rest of his life.

"Thank you, by the way." Taryn said, breaking Delvin out of his thoughts.

He tilted his head slightly, seeking elaboration.

"For... you know. Lying to Elmar, so that we can go to the Abbey."

"Oh, it's not a lie! We are going to Weckerton."

"Yes, but you know what I mean."

"The way I see it, as long as we take care of any ailments while we are there, it isn't a lie at all. It should take two days to get there, and 2 days to get back. That gives us 3 days split between the people of Weckerton, and the Abbey." Delvin explained, counting the days on his fingers as is to reinforce his statement.

"How long will it take to get to the Abbey though?"

"Uh... I'm... not entirely sure. From Weckerton to the Abbey isn't too far according to the maps, but we'll have to go on foot once we reach the village. The horses won't be suitable for the terrain on the peninsula."

"So what then, a day? two? Will you have enough time to treat the villagers?"

"Oh I'm sure that won't take too long, with your help!"

Taryn looked away from Delvin, chest aching. "Of course."

As the duo passed through Redhaven's southeast Merchant Gate, Taryn gazed distastefully at the castle looming overhead. "How can one man need so much space?" she asked rhetorically, not expecting an answer.

Delvin, not one for social nuance, replied. "Well, it's not just the Governor. I'm sure he has plenty of servants, cooks, personal guards..."

"Somehow, that makes it worse."

---

At the stables just outside the merchant gate, they borrowed a pair of small, sturdy horses that belong to the Chapel. Being the main religious authority in Redhaven and the surrounding provinces, the Chapel had resources that smaller organizations could only dream of.

The pair departed Redhaven early in the morning, riding south along the Merchant Way for a time, often passing caravans and other travelers on their way to the largest city on the east coast of Fonere. The ride had been fairly uneventful for the most part, long stretches of countryside punctuated by the occasional standalone farm, which would often come with exclamations of excitement from Delvin, as he proudly identified the breeds of the livestock that dwelt therein.

Having left the Merchant Way some hours ago, the duo had been riding down one of the smaller roads, much less populated than the comparatively bustling mainway they started their journey on. It wasn't until the sun was well past its zenith that the pair encountered another soul, walking slowly in the opposite direction.

"Hail, travelers. How goes it?"

"Quite fine." Taryn replied, eager for herself and Delvin to be on their way.

"Good... that's good. Tell me, are you bound for Weckerton? Not much out that way aside from the town...." he said, arm raised as he gestured down the road in the direction he had come from. At his hip, concealed by his cloak, Taryn spied the hilt of a sword.

"Indeed, good sir. We travel to Weckerton to offer what aid we can. Healing, and the like." Delvin divulged.

"Healing? You two priests then?"

"That's right." Delvin replied. "Well, I am, she-"

"Delvin." Taryn interrupted, urgency glinting in her eyes.

The man shifted his stance, arms crossed, his body now wholly covered by his coarse cloak.

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"Tell me, traveler". Taryn started, leering at the man. "What brings you out this way? As you note, there is nothing around for miles. Quite the journey to be making on foot, is it not?"

"Ah well, you know how it is. Can't all afford such fine beasts I'm afraid..."

"And your sword?"

The man shifted again uncomfortably, placing his hand on the outside of his cloak and squeezing the pommel of his sword.

"Self defense, madam." he eyed her keenly. "Never can be too safe on the backroads these days..." the man looked around, surveying his surroundings as he spoke.

"Indeed. We've tarried too long, I'm afraid, and had best be off while light is still in our favor." Taryn stated, trying to disengage from the situation. She spurred her horse onward, prompting Delvin to do the same.

"Safe travels, then..." said the man, as he scratched his patchy beard.

As they rode on, Taryn felt a sense of unease, though Delvin seemed none the wiser to it. As she looked back over her shoulder, the bearded man stood unmoving, head turned a quarter rotation as he watched them ride away.

As the pair journeyed on, the sun hung low over the horizon, painting the forest in hues of orange and red. Taryn and Delvin emerged into a peaceful glade. A fallen tree resting on an ancient, moss-covered boulder served as a natural shelter, inviting the duo to make camp for the night. The sturdy tree served as a secure anchorage for the horses. In the stillness of the clearing, crisp evening air carried the sweet scent of pine and damp earth, a welcoming change from the usual stink of Redhaven.

Taryn and Delvin made camp, and talked into the night, trading anecdotes and stories. In the short time that they had traveled together, she noticed that he had become much more open to her. As the night grew long, the pair retired to their bedrolls, the fire keeping the darkness at bay, along with any creatures that lurked within.

Sleep came swiftly to Taryn. She had been plagued by nightmares ever since Murkwater, but they had been becoming less frequent. On this night, she would not suffer visions of suffering or slaughter. Perhaps because the nightmares had begun to lose their grip on her, or perhaps only because she was awoken by the sound of twigs crunching under footfall.

---

Taryn did not move; she barely drew breath, for fear of betraying the guise of sleep. In the gloom of the fading campfire, a shadowy figure skulked toward where Taryn and Delvin slept. Taryn needed to get her weapon. Slowing her movements to the point of imperceptibility, she reached for her sword that lay beside her. Before she had the chance to do so, Delvin awoke with a start, gasping as he saw the figure.

Delvin sat quickly up and shuffled backward as the figure lunged forward to grab him. Taryn responded in kind, gripping her blade and jumping smoothly to her feet, raising her weapon.

The figure grabbed Delvin by the hair and held him low, producing a blade of its own. As the figure turned to face Taryn, she recognized him at once - the man from the road.

"The sword, toss it, girl." he growled. "Wouldn't want you to hurt ya' self." the man gestured at her sword with his own, before holding his blade to Delvin's throat.

Taryn remained steadfast, teeth gritted.

"I ain't gonna ask again lass, drop the sword, or the boy gets it." he tugged roughly on Delvin's hair, the jostling motion causing the blade to graze his neck. "Do what I tell ya', and you'll both be fine."

Taryn grunted in frustration, tossing the sword to the side.

"Alright, 'eres what's gonna happen. I'll be taken ya' horses, ya' supplies, and anything else that strikes me fancy. If you both play nice, I'll have no reason to gut ya'. Understand?"

"Scum!" she hissed through bared teeth.

"Now now lass, no need for name callin’. Now, get on the ground. Hands out, so i know you ain't gonna try nothin' funny."

Taryn clenched her fists, knuckles whitening. The bandit furrowed his eyebrows. "Are you deaf, girl? On the ground."

Unarmed and out of options, Taryn closed her eyes and breathed deep to compose herself. She slowly raised her hand to the side, focusing intently.

"I said now!" shouted the man, jostling Delvin.

Taryn jerked her hand to the side in a sweeping motion, to no effect.

"Not deaf, then, just daft I suppose. I don't want to kill ya', but you're really trying me patience. Final warning."

Taryn inhaled sharply, and tried again. This time when she swept her hand, the bandit's sword was snatched from his hand by an unseen force, and lodged violently in the nearby tree. Taryn's eyes went wide.

"What the fuck?" cursed the bandit, as he threw Delvin to the ground. "That's how it’s got to be then?" The man leaned down, producing a hunting knife from his boot.

Taryn raised her hands to invoke another incantation, but before she could the bandit charged at her, swinging the knife at her face. She shifted her weight back to avoid the strike and kicked him in the side of the knee, forcing him into a kneel. Before she could follow up, he turned, thrusting the knife into her lower abdomen. Taryn felt a searing pain, followed by a hot, sticky sensation as the knife was removed. She fell forward in pain, landing on the bandit who stabbed her again in response, this time in her side. Taryn gripped the man around the neck and began to squeeze, lifting his head and slamming it into the ground repeatedly as she did. The man didn't have the chance to be choked, as his skull gave way on a rock protruding from the forest floor. As his body went limp, he released his grip on the knife.

Taryn lay atop the man in agony, her life rapidly flowing from twin puncture wounds. Delvin rushed over, his face awash in panic.

"Oh god hold on!". He examined the stab wound as best he could in the fading firelight, trying to understand the severity of the injury.

Taryn sobbed in pain, and remorse - her hands still clenching the man's throat. She had never killed before.

Delvin pulled her tunic up to inspect the stab wounds. Looking rapidly between the two of them, he churned through knowledge in his mind, acquired from countless nights spent reading musty tomes.

Delvin placed his hands on Taryn's torso, one over each wound, applying pressure to stem the bleeding while he worked. He closed his eyes and searched within himself, considering the remembered details of each wound carefully as he formulated the rite in his mind. When he knew what needed to be done, he invoked Aleria.

Taryn felt her insides writhe and sear as severed flesh was clumsily mended. Taryn cried out, the pain of the rushed healing rite was far worse than the injury.

Delvin removed his hands, grimacing at the sight of the fresh scars. "Are you okay? Is anything out of place? "

Taryn groaned, the tang of iron fresh in her mouth as she rolled off of the dead man to lie on the forest floor. "Feels like shit." she gasped through ragged breaths. Delvin helped her sit up, propping her against the fallen tree.

"Do you think he was alone?" Delvin asked, eyes darting between shadows dancing in the flickering light.

"If he's not, they're not very good partners." she said cautiously, not wanting to tempt the Luckmaker. Taryn's eyes drifted to the lifeless man. His eyes had turned bloodshot; his head afloat in a sea of red. She looked away, wanting to be sick. "We can't stay here, Delvin."

"It's not safe to wander the woods at night, Taryn. We need to wait until morning..."

"What good will waiting do? It didn't stop him from coming here."

"Perhaps, but there are things worse than bandits in the woods, if tales are to be believed." Delvin stared into the darkness, eyes keen for any movement.

Taryn knew the tales he spoke of. Every town had its own stories, differing in detail, but eerily similar in premise. Creatures wrought of shadow and mist, flesh and bone, or any combination therein. Brought into existence by worshippers of dark gods like Azathoth, and Nyxthra, to do their sovereign's bidding in the mortal world. Perhaps a tale to keep children out of trouble, but the threat of it being more than a story was enough to sway Taryn.

"Fine. At first light then."

The rest of the night passed without commotion, but neither of the young acolytes would sleep.

---

Having rested as well as they could without trading awareness for slumber. The pair greeted the first streak of morning light with dwindling enthusiasm. Weckerton was still the better part of a day's ride to the south.

Taryn climbed to her feet, wincing as her new scars strained in response to the movement.

Delvin watched her pained movements and felt a pang of regret. "Sorry about the scars..."

"It's fine. Better than bleeding to death."

"No, if I'd taken more time I could have done it right."

"Delvin..." She placed a hand on his shoulder. "If you'd taken more time, I'd probably be dead."

Delvin stared at the ground. "Perhaps..."

Taryn pulled him into an embrace. "Thank you. If you hadn't come, I'd be dead already, and we haven't even reached Weckerton yet." She gave a rueful chuckle. As she released Delvin, he asked her the question she had been dreading.

"Taryn... last night when you used motion to disarm him... It didn't work at first."

Taryn deflated. "No. It didn't."

"Do you... do you know why?"

"I've been struggling to channel power for a while, but ever since Murkwater... I've barely been able to cast even the simplest novice cantrips"

Delvin pondered the information. He knew she had been struggling. Most of the Chapel knew. It wasn't unusual for someone to struggle with magic, but what intrigued him was that it was getting harder. "Forgive me Taryn, but I must ask. Have you been struggling in your communion with Aleria?"

Taryn's heart skipped a beat. "What do you mean?"

"If you saw casting has become harder, I'd venture to guess that something is interrupting your connection with Aleria. If that connection is disrupted, magic will struggle to flow, until it ceases entirely."

Taryn knew in her heart that this was the cause of her problem. "I... I have been wondering about the role we play. The protection we offer, and the mercy we bring. I shouldn't be saying this, but I'm not sure I agree with everything the Order does. What we did in Murkwater... It was a massacre. Not mercy."

"I see..." Devlin stroked his bare chin. "Well, _I_ shouldn't be saying _this_, but remember, your power does not come from the Order, it comes from Aleria. Find peace with our Lady, and all will be right, even if the Order were to lose its way. Remember Taryn, we each honor the gods in our own ways."

"But the order enacts the will of Aleria, doesn't it?"

"The order is of mortals, and we mortals lose our way from time to time." Delvin glanced involuntarily at the pale corpse on the ground. "You protect people with your sword. I protect people from sickness. These two things... they're different, but we both honor Aleria, as we strive to uphold her domain."

"I wonder what Aleria would think of Murkwater... she lent Gershom the power that he used to... to purify the village."

Delvin tilted his head, looking up as he considered the question. "I'm not so sure. Think about Astrador. They worship Aristeaus. As good a god as any other. It's their... unique... interpretation of his will that drives them to war. If we act to honor our Lady, and do so with the best intentions, what more can be expected of us?"

Taryn was unsure. She believed in Aleria's mercy - at least, she thought she did. But mercy was a hard thing to come by in Fonere. Perhaps mercy was in short supply everywhere.