***** Edge of the Northern Riftlands *****

How long had it been now? Months, years maybe? Time lost its sway in this land, slipping past like sand yet resurging at odd intervals like water. Certainly time moved, that much was certain-- but the longer she existed in these northern rifts, the more Estelle was convinced it did not always move the same direction. The sun rose and fell, seasons changed, but time itself was broken. Broken just as the rest of this accursed land was, fragments of dying reality in dire need of redemption.

Those who once knew Estelle would hardly find familiarity in her features today. In many ways she hardly recognized herself. Memories of the past were blurred and broken, lingering in her mind only enough to make it clear that she had existed elsewhere long before. A figure of great pride within her Divine Order. She knew this purpose had driven her, defined her—and now she existed in a world devoid of such meaning. The principles and doctrines which had once given cause to her actions were gone, and instead she was left only with an obscure sense of moral obligation. A personal mission to do what right she could in this profane realm she had been cast into, a realm which had not been kind to her.

Struggle and conflict had hounded her every step, transforming her gradually from a shining vestige of light into a hardened wanderer who had nothing to serve but her beliefs. Her once idealistic purity reigned back by pragmatism and a harshly objective understanding of what survival meant in this world. Though she strove still for righteousness, Estelle no longer could call herself a Paladin. In this place she was driven not by heavenly mandate nor higher intervention-- only by her own crusade-- and that was what the stalwart elven warrior had come to be called. A {Crusader}. Journeying in a realm of chaos, driven by the ethics of her heart and doing what little she could to spread her value. Holding the corners of reality together by the threads of her devotion. An Anchor, they had called her during the wars...

Once flowing hair kept long by covenant was now cut short and worn neatly back, a faint shade of blonde tied in place with rough leather strips. Previously flawless skin now tanned and marred with signs of battle, hard labor, and long days spent exposed to the elements; with the iconic guise of a Paladin’s steel and silver battle regalia long since replaced by a set of humble yet functional combat leathers. She was of this world now. Even her poise had altered itself in accordance to this new reality, the noble air of her former self discarded in ways which reached deeper than the loss of her celestial traits. Her stance and step were that of a wary mercenary distrustful of all around her– tactful and prepared– no longer the fearless, purposeful stride of one who believed herself protected by divine favour, always in the right.

It was with this discerningly cautious gait that the {Crusader} entered the township now, dragging by her off-hand the severed head of a creature from origins beyond speculation. Twisted flesh warped in a grotesque, haphazard mess of eyes, mouths, and gelatinous appendages splayed acrost rubbery skin. With any examination more than a passing glance one would notice her armour marked with the fresh signs of battle, gouged and discoloured with some form of unnatural grime. Acrost her back a massive kite shield hung from its strap, accompanied by a broadsword sheathed horizontally along the belt behind her waist.

Looking over the town as she made her approach Estelle’s gaze bore the hardened stare of one who had seen things never meant for mortal eyes, but, ever vigilant despite their distant pain, the crystal hues of her optics missed nothing. As a commotion arose several streets ahead within the town’s residential district, the {Crusader} rose her voice abruptly in order to speak to the man walking a pace or two behind her.

"Tobias. What's going on there?"

She gestured forward as she spoke. Tobias, a humble man bearing the attire of a forester, turned his gaze in the direction of the movement as his expression grew solemn.

"It would appear the inquisition has come again to the township, Lady Estelle.."

The statement alone was enough to narrow the eyes of the {Crusader}, her grip tightening on the severed trophy in her hand as she turned her entire body in a tight facing movement. Sharp, professional, military; she re-aligned her course directly for the scene unfolding before them.

There were three men of the Inquisition, or rather two men and a boy who was likely just a pawn to carry gear and handle affairs, each dressed in the Sceptre of Light’s holy garb. Estelle watched as they pulled a terrified man from his home, his wife screaming and wailing behind him as she clung around his waist. The woman was outmatched in strength and brutality by her aggressors, beaten off and cast back into the house by one Inquisitor as the other gripped the upper garments of the man and rent them down the middle to reveal his shoulders and back.

The accosted male was marked clearly from neck to lower spine, a spiraling pattern of rich purple curling over his skin for all to see. Impartial to the terror in the man’s eyes the Inquisitor jerked his head to the side and spat, growling hatefully as he drew his blade and raised it level with the riftmarked's heart, primed to pierce through until Estelle's voice rang out clear and cold– holding him like ice.

"Inquisitor! Pray tell, for what sin is this man to pay his penance in blood?"

"Can you not see, woman? Perhaps you have need of a Cleric.”

The senior inquisitor scoffed, his voice sarcastic as the response drew chuckles from his companions. His partner angled himself to face Estelle, gesturing offhandedly at the severed head she was carrying as he chimed in with further dismissal.

“Clearly you’re no stranger to purging the taint of the rift! This man is marked, and no different than any other abomination. You’ve your own trophy in hand, so wander on your way and let us claim ours.”

It was the wrong thing to say, and it achieved the opposite of the desired effect. Without hesitation Estelle advanced further on the men, raising her voice to match the sharpness of her glare.

"Aye, he is marked, as is a quarter of the population or more from every town north of Najske. Have you wandered so far from the Calm that you’ve forgotten where you stand?”

The Inquisitor’s expression settled itself into an unpleasant sneer as he eyed Estelle with a mixture of irritation and contempt, and the {Crusader} took another pace forward.

“The north may yet be broken by lingering corruption, but by Lilith’s grace this reality was made stable for all– Including those who came from the outer spheres. So I ask you again, what sin has this man committed that he should tithe with his life?"

As the two Inquisitors began to size the {Crusader} up, the Riftmarked's spouse suddenly threw herself from the doorway in a mad dash for her love. Well before she could reach her husband the second Inquisitor interceded, stepping in and striking her hard across the face with a blow which sent her tumbling from the raised porch and onto the dusted cobble street. Advancing on the woman whilst audibly cracking his neck, his hands fell to the haft of a heavy mace kept at his side, sliding it free from the loops at his belt.

The sound of grating steel was abnormally loud in that brief moment, until one realized it was not only the mace which had been drawn. Estelle's blade flashed from its sheath, point brought to rest just before the Inquisitor’s throat as she skillfully advanced in a simultaneous draw.

"Touch her again, and whichever limb makes the offense will feed the worms of this earth.”

The threat was low and steady, a cold in her eyes as deep as the hatred in her voice. A flick of her wrist sharply angled the point of her weapon from one Inquisitor to the other with a precision indicative of experienced swordsmanship.

“And you– Either answer me the righteousness of your conviction or release that innocent soul– your false Gods be damned."

The Inquisitor {Spellsword} hissed audibly through his teeth, throwing the riftmarked man roughly backwards into the house and bringing his own weapon to bear. Slowly moving to stand beside his mace wielding companion as he stepped back from the {Crusader}'s edge.

“Take it slow, Caleb. For all that bitter talk, the bitch is probably marked herself.”

Moving in tandem with the {Spellsword}, the Inquisitor {Enforcer} identified as Caleb acknowledged the commands, creating distance from Estelle as the two men circled to divide her ability to respond.

“Aye, Merkai.. Seems this backwater needs a cleansing, starting with her.”

Despite bearing the garb of clerics, the Inquisitors squared off with Estelle in calculated and efficient motions which betrayed a level of militant experience, positioning themselves at angles difficult for an opponent to defend against. Spitting at her boots, the {Spellsword} took up an aggressive two-handed grip on his blade and prepared to end this meddling woman who dared interfere with the ways of the Old Church.

With calm and leveled pride Estelle took up her stance, tossing aside the horrific trophy head and bringing her shield to attention in a fluid motion. Uttering beneath her breath an ancient prayer long dead to this reality, a golden glow shimmered about her frame as the rite took hold, an aura of radiant light to shame the very sunset beneath which they stood. Blanketed in her holy glow the Crusader remained stoic, solid, her poise like iron even as the Inquisitors circled her like hungry dogs.

"Come then; Stand and Deliver."

Unphased by the {Crusader}’s display, the {Spellsword} stepped out to initiate the assault. A guttural warcry bubbled from deep within his throat as he reared his weapon back and swung full force into a forward step. It was a strike of unbridled aggression, but his body flowed through the motion with the form of a trained swordsman and not merely some brute with a blade. With equal conviction Estelle stepped neatly inward as a calculated twist of her arm brought her shield to bear, catching the attack high upon the bulwark with an earsplitting clang. In the same moment the Inquisitor’s blade glanced off her guard Estelle’s sword hand positioned itself to strike from beneath the shield's edge, cocking her elbow upwards along her side to orient her blade for a thrusting attack, twisting her wrist with the forward drive of the motion as her weapon shot outwards in search of the man’s gut.

From the backline, Caleb clutched the pendant around his neck and began the signs of a quick incantation, his body splitting at the source as the art pulsed from his core. Energy coalesced around the {Enforcer} and his skin took on a darkened, roughly textured sheen; natural armouring spreading over his form as [Steelskin] took hold. To avoid impeding his companion’s frontal assault he kept himself at distance, raising a palm towards Estelle and channeling another art, a [Manabolt] focusing in his hand before launching itself towards the elven woman.

The burn of raw arcana bit into Estelle’s back at the same moment her weapon struck the {Spellsword}'s flesh. Clenching her jaw as her spiritual essence was torn she followed through with the attack regardless, not allowing the damage to pull her back. [Celestial Grace] served to reduce the arcane-type damage substantially, and so unpleasant though it was, it was a trivial pain; serving only to add fuel to the defiance boiling inside the {Crusader} as she ran her opponent through.

The jarring impact of Estelle’s blocking force caught the {Spellsword} unprepared, the solidarity behind her silver shield not something he had anticipated from the lightly-framed elf. Pain rattled through his hand and wrist from the vibration, but the shock of that moment was nothing compared to the puncture wound gaping from his abdomen. The seeking tip of Estelle’s blade bit hard, piercing Merkai’s chainmail and sinking deep into the flesh beneath, eliciting a stream of profanity from the Inquisitor as blood seeped outwards to stain the fabrics of his garb. A harsh consequence for underestimating an opponent as he backpedaled away from Estelle’s blade.

With Merkai wounded and in retreat, the {Enforcer} moved rapidly inwards to fill the vanguard before Estelle could press an advantage. Rearing back with his heavy mace, he let loose a violent roar as he swung for the side of her skull. Estelle instinctively raised her shield upon a path of intercept, her guard hand naturally resting in a position suited to quickly defend against the secondary enemy she had known to expect. The weighty strike of the mace was more substantial than the {Spellsword}’s slashing had been, forcing the {Crusader}’s arm back and pressing her heels deep into the earth. For a moment her elbow buckled from the pressure as Caleb continued to press, the flat of her shield all but pushed into her own face before her footing found its purchase and she shoved outwards with furious conviction, forcing the {Enforcer} back a step to regain his balance.

Putting himself at a distance from the melee with his staggering retreat, the {Spellsword} reached down to hold his wound for a moment as his partner occupied the frontline, cursing and examining the amount of blood which stained his glove. It was no small wound, but adrenaline flowed fresh with anger and [Bloodrage] kept the man on his feet. Quickly using his teeth to pop the cork from a small bottle, the Inquisitor downed a potion from his satchel and tossed the empty vial aside before running his hand along the length of his weapon with a series of signs. The sword sprang to life with flames, heating and dancing along the metal as [Blazing Blade] engulfed the weapon and the Inquisitor readied himself for another attack.

Estelle’s form blurred beneath the effects of [Greater Agility] as she effortlessly sidestepped an [Empowered Blow] from the {Enforcer}’s mace, before shoving the Inquisitor forward with a strike from her shield and unleashing a torrent of blows with [Flash Edge]. Sparks flew from the man’s body as cuts appeared in his clothing, Estelle’s sword glancing off the protective layer his arts provided with ear splitting clangs.

Despite the lack of mortal damage the {Enforcer} was pressured onto the defensive beneath the assault, allowing the {Crusader} a pivotal window to break contact and redirect her attention towards Merkai, eyes drawn by dancing flames glinting across polished metal. Maintaining the initiative she leveled her equipment and shot towards the Inquisitor at a run, positioning herself so as to feign a strike of the blade only to lunge inwards and slam him with the flat of her shield, utilizing the entire weight of her body as she closed the gap with [Shield Bash].

The {Spellsword} was caught out by the feint entirely, cursing as the full frontal battering ram plowed into him with overwhelming force. Struggling to maintain balance as he was forced back several feet, the Inquisitor barely succeeded in preventing himself from being thrown like a ragdoll as dribbles of bloodied spittle fell from his freshly split chin and splattered along the roadway. The man snarled in pain, his body taking on a faint glow as several self-buffs activated.

“You bitch...”

The {Spellsword} raised his blade high, rushing into the {Crusader} yet again and bearing down on her with two vicious slashes fueled by a carnal desire to spill blood for blood. Simultaneously the Inquisitor {Enforcer} doubled back into the fight, stepping forward from the opposing angle with his mace raised high.

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Estelle failed to anticipate the sudden ferocity of the counterattack, surprised that the {Spellsword} would choose to viciously swing at her rather than attempt to slow the pace of the battle to his advantage. She barely managed to bring the first blow to bind with the cross of her sword, before the {Spellsword} rode the edge of his blade along the length of hers and redoubled it back for a second slash. The maneuver came with a rush of power beyond her capabilities to riposte, and the burning steel bit deep into her sword arm beneath the shoulder, severing leather and searing into her flesh.

Gritting her teeth, Estelle responded with a rapid jerk of the shoulder, pulling the blade free from her muscle with a sickening slurp as the pooled blood released suction around the blade. A combination of her [Celestial Grace] and partially cauterized flesh prevented the occurrence of more profuse bleeding.

The motion was more functional than merely retreating from the offending weapon’s edge, however, as the {Crusader} continued through the motion even after the blade pulled free. Torquing her hips with the powerful rotation Estelle released her shield from her grip and sent it flying on-line with the {Enforcer}’s face before his mace could fall upon her. The blunted rim of hardened silver caught the Inquisitor in the mouth with a sickly crunch as teeth were crushed beneath the impact, his jaw falling loose as muscles dislocated from bone and bones were forced from their sockets.

The combat pirouette brought her full circle with her blade in line with the {Spellsword}’s neck, and Estelle brought her newly freed off-hand upwards to support her wounded sword arm in completion of the blow. Blindly elated in the moment of his bloodlust after heated metal bit into flesh, Merkai was in the midst of channeling another attack when the cut of Estelle’s sword fell upon him. Severing his spinal column beneath the jaw, the grotesque jerk caused by the nervous spasms of his death mixed with the remaining momentum from his intentions to make another strike, misaligning the angle of Estelle’s blow and cleaving apart his skull in a shower of gore and gray matter instead of achieving a clean decapitation.

His body tumbled to the stone in a lifeless heap– still as the cobble upon which it fell– much akin to the way his companion had crumpled to his knees after having his face decimated by the {Crusader}’s thrown shield, his hardened body proving insufficient against blunt trauma to the skull. Holding his shattered jaw in agony, panic settled into his eyes at the sight of his partner’s brutal execution. The fresh splatter of meat and blood triggered an unsettled churning in his stomach as he fumbled for his mace. Gathering his will, the {Enforcer} reached into the aether plane to manifest an art, a massive astral projection of his weapon filling the air around it as he rose the mace for a [Dire Strike].

The enlarged manifestation of the mace fell upon the {Crusader} like a collapsing tower, the weight of the blow shattering the cobblestone street and kicking up a storm of dust and broken rock. The sheer force of impact caused the windows of nearby houses to shatter as the blow echoed throughout the roadway.

Breathing heavily and struggling not to choke on his own blood, the {Enforcer} hurriedly began the signs to target himself with [Greater Regeneration], eyes fixed on the carnage which settled where his mace had fallen. All was still save for the roiling clouds of dust, and Caleb felt the tension in his shoulders begin to slack.

Before he could fully relax an emergent burst of light caused the {Enforcer} to recoil, god-rays glinting through the destruction and highlighting motes of debris within their glow. At their center the form of the {Crusader} became visible, surrounded by intense golden energy which arced and swirled, an array of power fixed behind her in the likeness of wings.

As [Intervention] faded and Estelle turned to advance upon him, the Inquisitor’s facial injuries made it impossible for the man to even beg for his life, naught but agonized moans and sputtering escaping his lips before the tip of her [Divine Smite] came plunging down through his chest with little regard for his lingering [Steelskin].

Eye to eye, the {Crusader} stared into his face as the life drained from his features. A cold, eerily intimate moment, she loomed above him like a statue until his corpse slid off her blade from its own weight. Estelle's piercing gaze remained unflinching throughout it all, for although it was perhaps animalistic, in her heart of hearts she knew that disgusting ends were deserved by foul men. In this regard it satisfied her.

Flicking her weapon to the side to shake the excess blood from its edge, Estelle knelt down to rip a portion of tattered ceremonial cloth from the garments of her slain foe, wiping clean the final portions of steel before sliding her sword into its sheath with an audible clink. Rising to her feet again, she turned and moved towards the nearby alleyway.

The young {Oathkeeper} attendant of the two Inquisitors was on his knees with hands clasped before him, hidden away in the shallow divot between houses as he prayed fervently in quick and panicked recitals. Eyes shut as tightly as he could squeeze them, he remained willfully oblivious to the world until a swift kick from Estelle shook him from his torpor, causing him to clamber backwards on his hands in desperate horror.

"Stop wasting your breath, boy. Your God doesn't live here."

The {Crusader} spoke darkly, the contempt in her voice and visage crystal clear, and the boy wasted no time in scrambling up and away. As he vanished into back alleys towards the edges of town, Estelle's own non-combatant made his approach from the side, offering her shield up with both hands as he spoke.

"Lady Estelle, shall I examine your wounds?"

"I’m afraid not, Tobias.. In fact I believe it best that you turn away from me now. Your fellow townsfolk will crowd the streets soon. You needn't be associated with what happens from there."

She accepted the shield as she spoke, her voice regaining a level of stillness. Her eyes flickered over the wound in her sword arm, considering it only briefly before seeming to disregard it.

"But, my lady--"

"Your obligations were to accompany me as a guide and witness, nothing more. Your duty ended as soon as the Horror I was tasked to purge was successfully sent back to the abyss.”

With a nod, and then a dismissive turn of her head, the {Crusader} clasped the man’s shoulder.

“You are no longer beholden to me… Now go, before you get caught in the coming discord."

Tobias' expression grew increasingly stern as he lowered his head, slowly backing away as he was bid. Estelle's expression remained calm as the sounds of distant crowding began to rise in the streets. Turning to the riftmarked man who had been the cause of the ordeal she made eye contact with him and his spouse. The two cupped their hands in supplication, bowing their heads in thanks with tearful eyes. The Crusader allowed herself only the briefest of smiles, bowing her own head in acknowledgement before jerking it to the side in a ‘get lost’ notion. The pair understood quite clearly, the man carefully pulling his wife along as she bowed in wordless gratitude once again, before the pair vanished into the streets behind their home.

Like a gathering storm from the inner districts one could hear the gradually multiplying throng of voices massing in the square. The scene had unfolded in plain view enough to be seen by most, and those who were blocked by building or wall did not take long to get filled in on the happenings. Soon a veritable mob of disgruntled folk had assembled around the portly figure Estelle knew as the town Mayor, the squat man leading the way with an enraged shade of red boiling beneath his wildly unkempt mustache.

“What have you done?!”

He bellowed, chest puffing up in a way that made him look more like a balloon than anything.

“You.. You! Do you have any idea what a mess you’ve caused for us, you damned filthy sellsword?!”

Unphased by the barrage, Estelle stood tall and still, unblinking beneath the Mayor’s accusatory finger jab as the horde of townsfolk howled behind him in agreement of her condemnation. In a voice so bland and composed that it was actually condescending, Estelle gestured offhandedly towards the corpses of what had been the Inquisition.

“I halted an assault on your establishment, as it were… Unless I am to understand that you would rather it be the bodies of your own here upon the ground?”

It was obvious from all sides that everyone present knew what the answer to that was, but hearing themselves say it out loud was another thing altogether. The yelling stifled into disgruntled murmuring and the Mayor himself turned positively crimson in the face, facial hair bristling with indignation as he stuttered around his words.

“T-that is.. You! They were… It.. It is another matter altogether, you vagrant! How does a common mercenary dare to interfere with our politics?!”

Stomping upon the ground, the man redoubled his frustrations upon the situation, gesturing back towards his people with wide motions as his voice rose to a barely restrained shouting fit.

“Sacrifices must be made, for the people, for the peace! The Inquisition is an unavoidable symptom we must face, a price which we pay to live within a stable aura! Compared to moving beyond the inner zones, a death or two every couple months is paltry!”

Estelle pursed her lips, but remained silent. There was some truth to the Mayor’s words. The Riftlands were an unstable mass of chaos, ruptured and torn by the scars of convergence. Without stabilization from the presence of Anchors the landscape was an untamed wilderness of constant change, fueled by corruption and filled with unspeakable creatures from beyond. In the times past, protection had been provided to these forward settlements by those like herself.

In recent years however, the Sceptre of Light had emerged from their empire in the south in a ‘great pilgrimage’, sending mounting numbers of ‘faithful’ beyond the northern sea and into the Riftlands’ inner zones. They had brought with them obelisks of power, man-made anchors rumored to be based upon the energies of the artifact which had protected the Southern Kingdoms since the advent of chaos began; the very reason the south had become known as the ‘Calm’.

Whilst their motives remained cloaked in zealotry and silent vows, the Sceptre had provided these anchors to settlements within the inner zones, granting them a relative degree of safety at the cost of obedience. Building up chapels around the obelisks themselves and demanding a level of tithe and worship from all who lived beneath the area of influence.

“They never take more than they need to keep reports looking good! But now because of.. Of this--!”

The mayor raged on, kicking Inquisitor Merkai’s half-headless frame before continuing.

“Now they will come back in force! For vengeance! It will become a full-scale investigation, an outright manhunt! One or two bodies will no longer be enough! Now anyone with a mark will be at risk!”

“Mhm.. I understand. That was your angle, was it?”

Closing her eyes with a sigh, Estelle absently slung her shield acrost her unwounded arm. Blood had begun leaking from her shoulder again, and the {Crusader} raised her hand idly to touch the burning damage dealt beneath the joint, rubbing away a few bits of charred flesh.

“That was the agreement, then? You feed them easy information on a few bodies here or there from the common populace, enough to help their numbers look good without having to bother going door to door–”

A subtle shift in her flesh took hold as Estelle signed the command for [Projected Heal] upon herself before she continued.

“--and in exchange they don't go hunting for higher profile targets, like say... your wife?”

Opening a single eye to gauge the Mayor’s reaction, the {Crusader} watched as his face drained of colour in record time. His horrified expression offered no attempts at concealing the truth which she already knew. He made no attempts to deny, but the shock in his eyes clearly displayed his disbelief at the how. How had she known? A question Estelle would not have answered even had he found the words to ask.

“And the rest of you were perfectly content to let this go on, so long as it wasn’t you, I suppose? Just roll the dice and hope someone else dies.”

Her hardened gaze moved out over the mob, voice going cold. Not a single person had what it took to meet her eyes.

“I could say that such a thing was brave of you, but I feel no inclination to lie for your benefit… Rather than it being a case of bravery enough to risk the possibility of death; you are simply too cowardly to act, and thus accept it out of hapless apathy.”

By now the entirety of the village had fallen silent beneath her crystal gaze, fidgeting and squirming like scolded children looking to somehow throw blame. Walking a few paces away, Estelle hefted the trophy head of the Horror she had slain prior and tossed it into the midst of the crowd. The people spread around it like a school of fish receding from the presence of a shark. The {Crusader} gave them a final meaningful stare before turning on her heel to take her leave.

“Let it be witnessed that I upheld my obligation. May recompense be settled between you and whatever powers claim this place, when the time of judgment looms before us all.”

*****

The town faded in the distance as Estelle approached the edge of the anchor’s influence, a sheen of energy which rose like a dome throughout the sky. It was thin and mostly translucent, though the world beyond moved in indescribable, inconsistent ways. Whatever appeared beyond never remaining the same between glances.

With a deep breath, the {Crusader} checked her equipment before shouldering her way through the barrier. As she emerged upon the other side there was a violent lurch in the surrounding world, impossible shapes adjusting their geometry, folding inwards and outwards upon themselves before rapidly morphing into recognizable features. The landscape took upon itself the appearance of an alpine forest, gradually sloping upwards along a mountainscape that had not been there before. Unperturbed, Estelle merely released the breath she had been holding before adjusting the straps on her shoulders to begin making her way up the graded soil. After a few minutes of walking she abruptly stopped, hand reaching for her sword as the air around her shifted.

“It’s just me.”

A deep voice spoke as a green-clad figure emerged from behind a massive conifer, the effects of [Unseen Predator] fading away. Estelle gave the man a brief once over, which he returned in kind, shaking his head at the {Crusader}’s condition.

“You didn’t get paid again, did you.”

He accused flatly, dubiously eying the fresh healed injury on her arm and the still torn leather armour surrounding it.

“This isn’t about money, Soto.”

“Right. Naturally we’re out here for the fun of it.”

The {Stalker} retorted dryly.

“I don’t care if you want to live like you’re in a convent, Estelle, but I like to eat.”

“Then go hunt something.”

Estelle cut back, leaving the man in her wake as she began walking uphill once more. The specialized ranger variant shook his head, clicking his tongue against his teeth as he begrudgingly followed along behind her. His deep green eyes faded beneath the bangs of his black hair as he pulled the cowl of his hood up over his head, tugging the garment tight around his shoulders as the delicate wisps of a light snow began to dance upon the mountain wind.

“Oh, I almost forgot. Something came for you.”

The {Stalker} broke the silence of their march after a time, reaching into the deep pockets of his cloak and pulling out a scroll of parchment. Estelle accepted it with genuine curiosity, turning the object over in her hands to reveal a wax seal of a dragon curled around a tree. A glimmer of recognition mixed with surprise showed in the {Crusader}’s features for a brief moment, before her face immediately became stern. She broke the seal and unraveled the parchment, quickly going over its written contents.

“...Well?”

Soto probed, cocking his head to one side as Estelle’s features remained blank. She rolled the scroll back inwards upon itself and shoved it into her pack.

“Something is happening in Orodae.”

She spoke softly, not letting the concern show in her voice. Looking outwards as they crested the top of the mountain, Estelle watched as the landscape itself suddenly underwent a transmutation before their eyes, and without warning Soto and herself were standing upon the height of a sand dune overlooking a stretch of lifeless desert.

“‘Something’?”

Her companion pressed, neither bothered by the amorphous behaviour of the world surrounding them.

“The Assembly of Torment may have procured a shard of The Maw.”

The {Stalker} stumbled over the soft sand, practically falling face first. There was alarm in his voice as his eyes fixed themselves on Estelle’s.

“What?! How the fuck?”

“I will have to return to the Mainland.”

“...For Lilith’s sake..”

Soto breathed in distress, raising a hand to his mouth and unleashing a stark whistle. The shrill sound pierced the air with a wave of vibration, and a large hawk dove from the sky moments later. The {Stalker} held out his arm for the bird of prey to land upon.

“I’ll send word to Karel. Tell him to have a port ready.”

“Thank you.”

“Estelle.”

The {Crusader} paused, looking at the larger man. A message passed between them in silence.

“Make sure you come back. We need you out here.”