CHAPTER 22- DROWNING YOUR SORROWS.
“URGENT. Aid is required near the Town of Rabelais. A Ghoul Giant has been destroying local villages. The local garrison and outriders are keeping it occupied but this cannot continue for long. Please in the Prince’s name we ask for any aid you can provide.” - Carrier Pigeon message received by the Tenth Temple of Middle-Mothers.
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After agreeing to Natalie’s plans and sitting through an hour of her laying out the basics of Glockmire decorum, Cole left the Silly Goat to resupply. While Trude “graciously” offered to replace his cloak, Cole had other things he needed to gather before another hunt. Natalie was busy preparing for the evening and attending to her own chores, so Cole found himself alone in an increasingly hostile town.
Initially, Cole intended to just visit Barnabas’s shop and get what he needed there. But Natalie insisted he visit some of the other stores to see the variety and, more importantly, earn a reputation as a paying customer. Despite Coles's initial skepticism, he had some successes. Glockmire was home to an abnormally large number of merchants for a town of its size. A natural side-effect of the town's location in the middle of a minor but still important trade route.
Cole managed to gather much of what he needed and, in the process, perhaps earn a smidgeon of good will. He restocked his salt from the local butcher and an apothecary sold him some incense along with a few other basic ingredients for what Cole hoped wasn’t too much of a swindle.
Despite receiving near-universal worried or even hostile looks from everyone he passed on the street, no one tried anything untoward, letting Cole relax a fraction. He’d seriously been worrying that an angry mob might form under the wrong circumstances; which, unfortunately, Cole had some experience with.
With his shopping done, Cole made his way back to the Silly Goat. His progress was stopped when an unfamiliar man stepped out from an alleyway in front of Cole. Large and barrel-chested, the man had well-calloused hands, and the worn look of someone used to hard labor. Both men eyed each other over, and Cole resisted the urge to reach for his axe. While there was nothing truly sinister about the stranger, he had an intensity to his expression that pricked Cole’s instincts. After that moment of mutual assessment, the stranger spoke in a deep, slightly scratchy voice.
“Are you the one my son went to? The rest-bringer?”
Ah. With that piece of information, things fell into place. This was Matko, the father of Filip, the boy who asked Cole to destroy the Walking Charnel. Cole didn’t un-tense. This could still go poorly. Choosing his words carefully, he responded.
“Yes, I am the servant of Master Time. I take it you are Matko?”
Matko nodded his head in a terse sign of confirmation and spoke haltingly. “When he told me what he’d done, I was pissed. Giving his coins to a stranger promising the impossible was stupid. I thought we’d raised the boy better.”
Exhaling sharply, Matko continued. “But then he comes to me today, just as my shift ends, and drags me to the Temple. Where old Matthias shows me that skull.”
Taking a step toward Cole, Matko pointed at the larger man with an almost accusatory air. “You really did it, didn't you? You killed that monster. You got revenge for my baby girl.”
“Yes, I destroyed the Undead; it will not hurt anyone ever again,” replied Cole, his tone solemn but calm.
Something seemed to break inside Matko. A dam of grief and loss burst at those words. Matko fell to his knees and started to weep, great racking sobs shook the sturdy-looking man’s entire being.
Kneeling down, Cole placed a hand on Matko’s shoulder. Cole didn’t say anything and just provided the instinctual comfort of a kind touch. The two knelt like that for a time as Matko let his grief finish its course.
After perhaps five minutes, Matko started to recover a little and let out sputtering apologies to Cole. Cole didn’t let the grieving father finish them, cutting off the shaky words with his own solid response.
“You have nothing to apologize for nor be ashamed of. Nothing in this world hurts more than a parent losing their child. Your pain is real, and I just hope you can find solace in my actions and that of your son.”
Those words restarted Matko’s sobs. Squeezing the man’s shoulder Cole glanced about the street, thankfully no one but Cole witnessed Matko’s pain. Cole detested how so many folk felt ashamed of grief, but he couldn’t change the nature of people or their culture. So Cole let Matko weep in peace, taking his time to let the pain run its course.
After a time, Matko got to his feet unsteadily, Cole helping him stand. Eyes red from crying, Matko looked around nervously and rasped: “Thank you, Rest-Bringer.”
“Of course,” answered Cole. “Now go be with your family. They will probably be feeling similar to you.”
Matko nodded shakily to that and spoke. “One last thing, Filip mentioned what the Daymen said, right? About how they blamed us for not evacuating. Do…do you think they were right?”
That got a moment of hesitation from Cole. He was torn on exactly how much to reveal to this man. He refused to let the poor father blame himself for his daughter's death but too much information could have unforeseen consequences.
Deciding quickly, Cole answered. “If I had been in your place or that of your daughter, I would have made the same decision. What happened was a product of extraordinary ill fortune. While I cannot say for certain, I think it's likely that the choice to stay in your home didn’t doom your daughter, but instead saved the rest of your family.”
Matko’s face took on a look of grim determination as he whispered a final word of thanks and left Cole. Alone in the alley, Cole found himself looking up at the sky, seeing its pale blue between the buildings surrounding him. The Sun was getting low in the sky, and the shadows were lengthening. It was time to return to the Silly Goat and face his new challenge.
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By the time Cole arrived back in the Tavern, many local customers had already arrived. It wasn’t time for dinner or even proper drinking hours, but a handful of townsfolk didn’t let that stop them. Cole’s entrance didn’t kill the pockets of conversation in the inn, but his presence certainly wounded them. Grimacing slightly, Cole climbed the staircase and headed for his room.
After depositing his purchases, Cole returned downstairs and tried to fit in. He sat in an unoccupied part of the inn and started playing with his medallion. The worn metal hourglass hung from his neck and provided an easy distraction. It didn’t take long for Natalie to approach. Cole looked up from his musings to see the striking young woman wearing a particularly annoyed expression. Glancing around, Cole realized he was the source of her annoyance, confused, he gave her a questioning look.
Sighing audibly, Natalie rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. “Cole, do you even realize what you are doing?”
Further mystified, Cole answered honestly. “No?”
Natalie looked up to see the bewildered look on Cole’s face, which got her annoyance to soften into amusement. Slowly, with the air of someone repeating themselves, Natalie said. “My first piece of advice to you was sit close to others and listen to them for a bit before trying to join the conversation. Is that what you think you are doing?”
Further perplexed, Cole looked around the inn and answered. “Yes, what’s wrong?” From his perspective, he was following that advice perfectly. He’d found an unoccupied spot and was waiting for an opportunity to join a conversation.
Snorting in exasperation, Natalie gestured around them and answered. “Cole, you literally found a dark corner of the room, sat down, and started brooding. You’d only be more subtly menacing if you played with a knife and muttered words in Sinner-Speech.”
Blinking in surprise, Cole was forced to reassess his actions. At her words, he could certainly see how he could give that impression. Failing to find any proper words, Cole simply answered, “Ah.”
Rubbing the lower half of his face with a large palm, Cole deflated slightly and asked. “I know I am poor at situations like this, but I’d not realized how large my deficits are. Perhaps this idea of yours is not feasible, Natalie”
In answer, Natalie grabbed Cole’s free hand and hauled him out of his chair. Confused, Cole let himself be dragged over to the table just one over from where a quartet of tradesmen sat and drank. Plopping the much larger man down into a chair. Natalie gave Cole a gesture to wait. Leaving him for a moment to retrieve a mug of beer, which she placed in front of the slightly confused man.
Natalie gestured at the mug and explained. “Even if you don’t drink, being in a tavern without a cup of something is a strange look. So now try again.”
Leaving him to his fate, Natalie went back to work. Cole looked down at his drink and shrugged to himself before taking a sip. This was perhaps the third or fourth time Cole tried alcohol. Just like every previous time, it tasted foul to him. His over-sensative palate reacted poorly to what he supposed was well-brewed hops. Grimacing, Cole let out a disgusted hiss but swallowed down the Beer.
Sitting the mug down, Cole shoved the drink away from him and slumped in his chair slightly. An annoyed grunt from the table next to Cole caught his attention. The four tradesmen looked at Cole, each wearing a mildly hostile expression. One of them, a large fellow with a protruding belly and arms thick with muscle, gestured to Cole’s drink and asked.
“What’s the matter, Stranger? Is our beer not good enough for someone on a divine mission?”
Before Cole could respond, a younger man with a wispy youthful mustache and a long face spoke. “It's bad enough you come to our town and cause trouble with the Lord. But you insult Master Wilhelms draft and try to seduce his daughter? You’d think a Holy man would know some shame?”
Stunned, Cole felt utterly bewildered. he’d literally sat down and tried to drink a beer and somehow offended these men. This had to be a new record for Cole when it came to alienating people. Frantically searching for an appropriate response, Cole was saved by Natalie. The well-dressed barmaid whirled over to the two tables in a storm of flowing skirts. Looking at the Tradesmen with an imperious look, Natalie answered for Cole.
“He didn’t seduce me, Bogdan, but if he tried, he’d certainly have better results than you did.” the younger-looking man with the bad beard started to sputter something, but Natalie didn’t give him a chance. Remarking to the older, wider fellow, “And Sandu, it's rude to judge a man on what he drinks. I thought your wife had you better trained than that.”
Instead of looking incensed like Bogdan, Sandu cracked a wide grin and chuckled before speaking. “Well put, Miss Natalie, but I don’t think such a large feller like this Rest-Bringer needs you to protect him.”
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
Natalie nodded in agreement but let her razor tongue out to play. “True, but considering he saved me from an Undead monster just a day ago, I feel it's the least I can do.”
That got both men to shut up but invited a third to speak. Bespectacled and with stringy hair, Teo, the carpenter, spoke with a soft, almost nervous voice. “What kind of monster?”
To Cole’s confusion, that question made Natalie smile with victory. She looked at him and asked. “Cole as the expert, could you describe that terrible horror you fought and destroyed single-handedly?”
Trusting Natalie, Cole did as requested. “It was a Walking Charnel. An unliving pile of bones about the size of a large Hay Pile. It was one of the Undead that attacked your town three years ago. I tracked it to its lair with Natalie’s help and destroyed it.”
Stunned silence ruled for a few seconds before Sandu looked at Natalie and asked. “He speaks true?”
She nodded but rolled her eyes. “Cole does, but he also undersells it. It was a massive pile of thrashing bones. Just a hill of jumbled skeletons that scuttled about on dozens of unnatural limbs. Large enough to flatten a house and strong enough to crush rock. But Cole destroyed it, set the accursed thing on fire, and hacked it apart with his blade.”
Feeling slightly abashed, Cole scratched at his few remaining scabs and muttered. “It wasn’t that big, but yes, it was rather dangerous.”
All four of the Tradesmen were now looking at Cole with a cautious interest, and a couple other lone drinkers were clearly listening to the conversation from a distance. Internally Natalie was beaming. So far, so good, now she just needed someone to take the bait
“What’s the biggest Undead you’ve killed, Rest-Bringer?” asked a slightly inebriated man at the Bar.
Natalie had to force herself not to smirk. The gamble she’d made was starting to pay off. Cole’s habit of talking about horrible things related to death and undeath could easily disturb and scare off people, but if they were used correctly, those same eerie stories could intrigue them. The people of Glockmire were a superstitious and fearful lot, but many of them also suffered from the near-universal vice called morbid curiosity, which was something Cole could feed easily. Especially with Natalie there to steer him in the right direction, Cole’s stories might inspire more awe and hope than fear and disgust.
Cole looked to Natalie for a sign, which she gleefully gave. “Yeah, I’m curious as well. What is the physically largest Undead you’ve hunted?”
Looking around at his eager, if nervous audience, Cole answered. “A Giant Ghoul.”
Mystified, Teo asked for clarification. “An undead Jotunn? You killed a Jotunn?”
“Well, put to rest; it was already dead. But yes, I managed to free a Giant from its corpse,” answered Cole.
That answer even surprised Natalie. Giants were rare and incredibly dangerous. Even a Feral one, like the type they occasionally heard of in the Dragontail Mountains, could destroy entire villages with ease. An Undead one would be even more dangerous, and Cole had destroyed it.
“Well, you can’t just leave us with that. Where was this and how did you kill it?” asked Sandu. By the looks of the patrons clustered around them, it was the question they’d all been wondering.
Bemused and uncertain of what to do, Cole made up his mind when he saw the intense curiosity on Natalie’s face. He’d tell his story; the details were not anything particularly sensitive.
“The Giant Ghoul was terrorizing villages in eastern Guyenne when I heard about it. Thankfully, the Ghoul wasn't particularly dangerous, it was massive, but just as smart as any common Ghoul.”
That got some confused and even worried mutters from his audience. Even a scrawny Giant stood as tall as an old Oak and was strong enough to easily uproot smaller trees with their bare hands. The idea of a Giant being ‘not particularly dangerous’ made as much sense to the people of Glockmire as the concept of a trustworthy demon.
Not noticing their reaction, Cole continued. “Like all Ghouls, it was guided only by hunger and lacked anything resembling intelligence. So it was easy to turn all that size into a disadvantage. I knew the Ghoul was heading towards me, but I had two days to prepare. With some convincing, I got the locals to aid me with some of the work, and turned an entire field into a trap.”
Teo frowned and scrunched up his face in confusion. “Wait, how did you know you had time to do all of that? The jagging Giant could have shown up at any time and eaten you all!”
The words of the Tradesmen made Cole grimace slightly. It illustrated the learned helplessness and isolation of this region. In the Blood Duchies, all you could do was hide from monsters and hope your masters got bored and decided to hunt larger prey. That was not the situation even in remote places in neighboring nations.
“The roads and wilds of Guyenne are patrolled by Outriders who watch for banditry and the like. Those brave horsemasters worked night and day to keep the Ghoul distracted and away from villages. It was a testament to their skill that so few people were killed by the Ghoul. They’d been working to keep it distracted until the local lord, and his soldiers could arrive, but that would take nearly a month. So when I offered a different plan, they agreed to help.”
Accepting that answer, Teo nodded in understanding and let Cole continue. “When the Giant got close the Outriders and villagers escaped, leaving me to guide Ghoul to the traps. Thankfully it was happy to chase me instead of the exhausted Outriders, and follow me right into our first traps. We’d set up a number of large pits, with cavalry spikes in the nearby field. We’d been forced to guess but the pits were deep enough and when the Giant stepped into one it tripped, falling on some of the spikes. This wasn’t enough to kill the Giant but was enough to cripple it. Falling with all that weight ruined one of its legs, and the wooden spikes got stuck in its torso.”
That got a collective wince from the eager listeners. The image Cole described was not pretty, but it was exactly the sort of thing they’d come to hear.
“With those injuries the Giant couldn’t stand up, but it could still attack me. It crawled along the ground, attempting to squash or eat me. But that was much more manageable, it couldn’t turn quickly, and I could dodge its strikes. Eventually, I managed to get onto the Ghoul's back and chop through its spine. It couldn’t do anything then, letting me release the Soul and burn the body.”
With his story finished, Cole expected looks of horror and shock. Which he indeed got, but they were also accompanied by awe and fascination.. Blinking away his surprise, Cole looked around at his now rapt audience. After a few moments of silence, someone asked: “Well, tell us another one, Rest-Bringer!”
Startled by that, Cole tried to think of something, but Natalie came over and whisked him away to some privacy. Saying: “I’ll return him to you in a moment” as she grabbed him.
Close together and away from the murmuring patrons, Natalie’s face split in a huge grin. Looking up at Cole she half-laughed, half-spoke. “It's working! Keep this up and we’ll have more leads!”
Looking around, a slightly nervous Cole responded. “I am not used to this. Are you sure this is a good idea?”
Putting a hand on Cole’s arm, Natalie looked into his eyes and let her mirth fade into seriousness. “Trust me, this is going well. But if things start going poorly I’ll be there to help.”
Exhaling in resignation, Cole nodded in acceptance and went back to the eager audience. True to her word Natalie helped Cole, steering him away from tricky topics and subtly pushing the crowd of listeners in different directions. All while learning bits and pieces of Cole’s past. For his part Cole regaled the tavern-goers with stories of Necromancers, Rattlers, Ghosts, and terrible Curses of Undeath. While he’d never considered himself a storyteller, Cole was surprised at how easily talking to these people was. With a little help, he could speak about his life and experiences and not fear hurting people with dark tales or dangerous secrets.
This went on for hours, with Cole taking breaks but always being dragged back to the center of attention when Natalie found it prudent. Despite his initial enjoyment, the efforts of playing this social game for an extended time started to wear on Cole. He suppressed uncharacteristic irritation and felt a type of exhaustion he’d never felt before. An ache in his mind, not his body. Idly, Cole wondered if his more drastic measures for dealing with physical damage would work in this case. He didn’t get to dwell on that morbid line of thought as Natalie pulled him away from the pub-goers and whispered in his ear.
“So far, this has gone well, but I can tell you are getting worn out. Let's quit while we’re ahead. Get some rest, Cole.”
Giving her a thankful smile, Cole stepped away from the chattering patrons and slipped upstairs. Returning to his room, Cole collapsed into his bed and let out an exhausted sigh. Now alone in his room, Cole contemplated what had occurred and what it might mean. The whole thing felt surreal to Cole. He’d spent so much of his life isolated; this experience was both fascinating and utterly draining.
Natalie’s scheme to gain support in the town initially seemed rather ridiculous, but now it actually seemed feasible. While Natalie herself seemed less and less like a potential liability and more like a useful ally. In less pragmatic terms, Cole’s relationship with the woman was changing. Leaving him puzzled and uncertain. Lying in bed, Cole felt his mind drifting back to Natalie and her smile. Each time those memories came up unbidden Cole felt a strange lurching feeling in his chest. While not unpleasant, these feelings dredged up old worries and new guilt for Cole. Things had not ended well for the last woman he’d loved. Isabelle’s shadow still stretched over Cole’s life.
These difficult musings started to blur as exhaustion took Cole and he slipped into slumber. Sleep, however, didn’t end this strife, instead only transformed it. Strange dreams came to Cole. Dreams of blood, pain, and terrible nights spent locked away and fed upon. Where a hundred hungry leeches with red eyes and alabaster fangs supped on his lifeblood. Fire devouring those he loved, leaving only ashen bones and echoing screams. The same nightmares repeated over and over. Slightly changed each time, but all variations on the same theme. Painful memories distorted into surreal prisons for Cole’s unconscious mind.
Eventually, Cole awoke, escaping from his nightmares. Bolting upright, Cole thrashed about, sucking in ragged breaths as he tried to decipher where he was. Looking around, Cole started to calm down as the wooden furnishings of the Silly Goat came into view. It was late in the night, with only a pale moon to illuminate his room. Unsteadily getting to his feet Cole went over to his pack and removed the Vampire Skull hidden within.
Returning to the bed, Cole cradled the morbid totem in his arms and felt himself relax. Years ago, he’d learned holding the skull helped with the nightmares. Dreams like the ones he’d just experienced were once common for him. Near-nightly occurrences that once drove him to insomnia. Now the night-terrors were thankfully rare, only happening occasionally and usually ending after a single night. Cole hoped such would be the case this time as well.
Panic faded, and soon Cole found himself drifting off to sleep, skull still in hand. Where new dreams replaced his earlier terrors. Cole dreamed of a lake of blood, a perfectly still pool of crimson that he stood atop. His feet did not sink into the ichor, instead barely causing ripples in the red lake. Looking up, Cole saw a pale moon overhead and a whirling expanse of cold stars. This was another familiar dream, but one far more welcome than his earlier terrors. Partially because it wasn’t truly his dream.
Looking across the expanse of blood, Cole quickly found the dreamer. Maybe a dozen meters away stood a woman staring up at the sky. Tall and clad in a white dress speckled with red. She faced away from Cole, but he would recognize her from anywhere. Isabelle, or what was left of her, had entered his dreams. Smiling sadly, Cole moved towards her. His steps were slow and unsteady, despite standing atop the bloody lake, Cole felt like he was wading through a marsh, his limbs weak and sluggish, moving him towards Isabelle but not fast enough.
After what felt like a moment and a marathon, Cole reached Isabelle. Reaching out a shaky hand Cole touched her shoulder. Feeling the cold softness of her skin.
“Belle?” asked Cole as he turned the figure towards him. She didn’t resist; now facing Cole, he could see her face. Skin and hair as pale as snow, with bright red eyes. Belle looked much as she always had. With sharp aristocratic features that were perhaps a bit too angular, and long neatly braided hair tucked into a utilitarian bun. Their eyes met, and Belle’s glassy stare faded, and she focused on Cole. Her blank expression turned into a sad smile as she realized who was with her.
Reaching up, she touched Cole’s hand on her shoulder and spoke softly. Her thick Atredian accent reminding Cole of a forgotten home. “I’m still here, Cole. Please don’t leave me, my love.”
As soon as those words left her mouth, Belle melted. Her body dissolved into black blood that mixed with the crimson expanse surrounding them. Cole stood there, savoring the phantom touch of her hand on his. This wasn’t the first time he’d had this dream. It was what started him on the path of a Paladin after all. Her words sometimes changed, but the meaning never did. Isabelle was not completely gone. A thread of hope still existed, and no matter how he tried, Cole couldn’t let go of it.
Then, just as the final drops of Isabelle’s dark form faded into the blood lake, the dream faded, dissipating into whatever Aether-touched thoughts formed it, leaving Cole in a restless but thankfully dreamless sleep.
Cool autumn sunlight and the quiet murmurs of Glockmire’s morning ended that sleep. Blinking away sleep, Cole started to sit up but stopped as a sharp pain jabbed him. Looking down in bewilderment, he saw the skull of Isabelle resting in his hand, its fangs sunk into his wrist. Gingerly removing the skull, Cole looked at it. He hadn’t remembered feeding her last night, but it wasn't impossible considering how tired he’d been.
A decade of fighting the Undead, dealing with every manner of hungry corpse and restless spirit hammered strong instincts into Cole. Instincts that told him to drop the skull into a pyre and then scatter salt over the resulting ashes before burying them on hallowed ground. He’d always fed Isabelle intentionally before, and something told him whatever had happened last night was not a good sign. Cole shoved down those instincts and instead went to clean the skull and prepare for the day. Looking down at the skull, Cole took a deep, shuddering breath and spat out the painful truth he knew in his heart.
“You’re a jagging hypocrite Cole.”