Cultrost stayed with Numisley, guarding him as the rest of their armed entourage fought in an impromptu shield wall within the cave’s mouth. The wolves of the fog were the easiest to deal with, despite their ability to emit fog within their hide, unlike the Storm Elementals who pelted them with a rain of watery projectiles with a force equal to [Water Arrows], pushing some of the shield-bearers back. Worst of all, they grew fiercer as the downpour raged on. In a stroke of luck, lightning struck one of the Storm Elementals. The swirling apparition of wind and rain greyed and scintillated, and with its wispy tendrils, it unleashed a bolt of lightning toward Yulvres. His shield absorbed most of the lightning, prompting him to catapult his shield toward the offending elemental, detonating the wooden shield in a magic-infused explosion that dissipated it.
One of the wolves attempted to pounce at Yulvres’ unguarded flank, where his burnt arm is, yet, it was thwarted by Graten’s swift slash that beheaded the beast. Yulvres nodded in appreciation, but Graten spoke only two words that spelled their doom.
“There’s more.”
Several more Storm Elementals had emerged from the trees, materializing not far from here. The fog thickened, with several packs of wolves braying as they made their approach. The Elementals and the wolves ignored each other, for the Elementals only sought to eliminate the source of the disruption of the weather, and the hungry wolves with the fog trailing behind them were looking to sate their hunger. All their crossbow bolts had already been lodged in the skulls of the wolves in the earlier assault.
“Germio!”
Yulvres called forth one of his deputies. The shield wall parted as Germio marched forward in a procession, holding a sheet of parchment that seemed to miraculously stay dry even from all the rain.
“...The first Chieftains, the first leaders of the Human tribes, built civilization with hands blessed by the Divine Decree. From the four corners of the first mud hut to the four corners of the first cities, was civilization…”
The [Mercenary] seemed to recite the contents of that single sheet of parchment that still refuses to get wet. His body emitted a strange light that unsettled even the ferocious wolves and the raging elementals, making their assault falter.
"...And then, the first law was declared, the first proclamation of the rulers vested with divine will, that no Human shall be harmed within the vicinity of the borders of civilization. No invader, no beast, shall harm those who had named themselves as citizens, [Banishment]!"
A loud gust of wind exploded from Germio, dissipating the fog surrounding them, and momentarily stopped the rain before it fell again a moment later. The Storm Elementals dematerialized and the remaining wolves scampered away despite their numbers.
Numisley and Cultrost were dumbfounded by the display of faith. Intrinsically, they knew that it was no Feat or Spell, but something else entirely. A Miracle. The [Mercenaries] sagged their shoulders and sat on the ground, staring at the stalactites, tired from the journey and the battle.
Yulvres and Graten stood, drenched from the rain. They were too tired not to care about being wet. Cultrost and Numisley donned their ragged coats and walked together outside.
“What kind of wolves are they?” Numisley asked.
“Fogwolves,” Yulvres murmured, staring at the wet corpses.
“I got an idea. Let’s sell their parts.” Cultrost stated.
“Parts?” Graten’s ears perked up. Yulvres stared at the red Satyr beside Numisley, still seeing him as an odd foreigner compared to his Human step-brother of noble blood.
“The organs and stuff.” Cultrost expounded after finding the right words. “Adventurers and [Hunters] sell the magical stuff and all to someone right?”
“Oh!” Numisley snapped his fingers.”So we can get more money that way.”
“Exactly.”
“What about the debt-collecting Feat of that sh–wait, let’s try it. The attempt wouldn’t hurt I suppose.” Numisley thought about their profits being stolen remotely by that binding contract and that coin-collecting Feat.
Graten and Yulvres ordered the [Mercenaries] around at Gildin Brothers’ request to chop up the wolf’s corpses. Yulvres knew that their magical hides and innards that produced the fog in the first place would fetch high prices, although how his employers would sell them eludes him. As the rest finished dragging the corpses to the cave to be processed, Cultrost found one shining azure-grey gem gleaming within a bush next to the tree where Yulvres had slain one of the Storm Elementals.
Numisley picked it up out of curiosity, heavily leaning on his walking stick. The grains of the raw unpolished gem resembled motes of lightning suspended in water.
“A magic gem?” Numisley uttered.
“It’s an Elemental’s gem.” Graten strode towards them and inspected the rough gem between Numisley’s fingers. “I heard that slaying an Elemental could produce a magic gem. And I thought that rumor was false until now.”
“Wonder how much we could sell it.” Cultrost’s mind wandered. “There could be more.”
“I don’t see anything shining around us,” Graten replied after scanning the area with his keen eyes.
“We’re done pulling the corpses.” Yulvres notified them.
They went back to the cave to set up the camp. Chopping wet branches and waiting for them to dry to make a fire is an arduous task. Luckily one of Yulvres’ men had a flint and steel that they used once the wood was dry enough to be burnt. The only Dullahan of the group, a former [Butcher] showcased his expertise with a cleaver as he neatly chopped the limbs and other parts of the wolves’ corpses as the others helped skin them for their hides.
Numisley and Cultrost were curious about Germio's Miracle, prompting them to ask them about it.
"It's not something to be used at will like Feats or Spells do. It is up to the Divine Decrees if the cause is right."
Numisley raised his eyebrows in confusion. He hoped to use Miracles somehow, but Germio stated that only [Priests] can use them effectively. Even so, he wrote about the experience in his journal, writing on the rock with ink and quill. With the ongoing rain, he did not dare to get the brown book from the wagon where Palden hid it.
They were dismayed to find themselves still confined in the cave, the downpour still as heavy as ever even in the summer.
The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
"Let's wait for it to stop."
"We're not going to get anywhere if we keep waiting for it to stop."
Graten dismissed Cultrost's suggestion.
"I can still go," Palden reassured.
"Won't the horses get sick?" Numisley asked, pointing at the stout stallions tied on one of the stalagmites.
"Every horse I will ever steer will be more resistant to sickness.” Palden cited the effect of one of his Feats.
Despite the constant storm, they had labored on. They remained confined to the wagons, staying mobile. They can’t seem to escape the storm as if it followed where they went, from forests to plains, and even in the few hills that they passed along the way. They also can’t escape the various beasts that seem to catch their scent. For each one they killed or successfully defended against, they gained something to sell. The arduous struggle they went through every day had given them Feats. It is a miracle that casualties remained as low as they had despite that.
Palden may have Feats that enabled him to navigate within this storm, but he was still unfamiliar with the terrain. Sooner than they realized, they were running out of food and water after a few days, as well as healing potions for their injuries. An encounter with beasts that spat acid and poison from their maws had contaminated what remained of their rations a day ago.
The monsters they slain were mostly wild golems of mud and earth that spontaneously formed, with only a few beasts that they could eat. Graten and Yulvres had to break up two brawls that stemmed from blaming Palden for their misfortunes.
Yet, with Numisley’s [Temporary Employment], he could pay every [Mercenary] that came with him a small sum from their tiny treasury that is continually being drained by the Contiearl.
The next day, they spotted a hamlet at a distance from their camp within the forests.
“What do you see?” Numisley asked Graten, the only one who could make out details of the faraway hamlet with his [Keen Eyes] and other vision-enhancing Feats that he currently had. The rain had hindered their field of vision, making it difficult to perceive far away distances.
“The village seemed like it had been attacked.”
Graten saw the torn thatched roofs of the ten buildings of the settlement. There was a perimeter that seemed to be a poor attempt at making a wall; a series of barricades of unmortared stone and toppled logs surrounded by broken abatis.
“I see. Let’s hope we can trade.” Numisley stared at the prepared sacks of hide from different monsters, as well as other parts that they deemed useful to be sold. “Cultrost, Palden, you ready?”
“Yup.”
Cultrost hopped on Palden’s horse, looking ahead. It seemed too cramped for Numisley to ride, and he wasn’t sure that the horse could support the weight of three people. But Numisley let himself be pulled up by Palden, riding in front of him.
“Keep the horse safe.”
Numisley turned to Graten who was keeping watch of the other horse of their wagon as they trotted towards the lonely hamlet.
-
Grey clouds hovered towards the hamlet of Dousso. The most desperate people who survive the monster attacks and every misfortune that swept over their settlement violently prostrate themselves towards an ancient stone tablet of commandments in an altar surrounded by wilted flowers and clay jars of sacrificed dirty bones at the center of the city.
“...forgive us, for we are ignorant of the decrees we broke! Forgive us, Lords, Ladies, Majesties, for we have no grain to spare, nor sinners to punish!...”
Their bruised knees bled from their suicidal fervor, dehydrated lips mumbling prayers of contrition upon deaf divinity. Many of the villagers were despondent, shivering within the ruins of their communal homes that were once warm with their fire pits and communal gatherings. Mothers fed their children with boiled leather, watching the remains of their husbands being quartered and burnt to the altar to prevent them from rising from the dead. Their lips raised slightly, sticking up their tongues to desperately drink the drizzle that fell on greying clouds.
Those who were lucky to be still fit were manning the inadequate defenses with spears; rusted hunting spears or simply sharpened sticks and slings and bows. A few wielded common tools, knives, fire pokers, hammers, saws, and even a frying pan of all things. They saw how the three hooded people on a horse had brought the rain with them, on how they brought another misfortune to their village.
A stone whizzed past Numisley as a dangerous warning.
“Who are ye?”
Palden and the Gildin Brothers almost didn’t comprehend the backwater Torregornian accent, especially with the pitter-patter rain drowning most sounds.
“We are [Merchants]. We had come to sell pelts and monster parts!” Numisley announced. “We come in peace!”
“You are harbingers of misfortune! Cursed! We cast ye!”
An aging man shuffled forwards from their shoddy barricades, pointing a quivering finger at them, holding a battered sword with his thinning hands. Cultrost did his best to hide behind Palden. The distraught villagers didn’t see Palden’s subtle greenish skin either, nor his tusks, with all eyes focused on Numisley.
“Please, we merely need food and shelter. We do not ask much of your food. Only a day’s worth!”
They threw stones in response to Numisley’s plea, prompting Palden to gallop away from there, bringing the cascading rain with them.
-
“What do we do now?”
These words spoken by one of the [Mercenaries] hung tensely in the air. Uncertainty muddled the addled minds of starving, desperate, and armed men. The young employers who were supposed to feed them had failed them. The thought of mutiny silently crawled within their consciousness, begging to be noticed.
“Cultrost. Numisley.”
Graten’s words pierced the silence. The brothers felt an inkling of dread.
“We have no choice.”
Yulvres knew what Graten meant. Soon, the drastic option had dawned on them.
“Let’s find another settlement. A more friendly one. Right, Numisley?”
The words left Cultrost’s quivering before he knew it, lips quivering. His gaze tightened with uncertainty with each second of Numisley’s pensive silence.
“Palden. What’s the nearest settlement aside from this hamlet?”
The old Orcan stared at the ground, his gaze heavy.
“T-three days. Three days north.”
There was no food left for even a day. The edible meat from the beasts they had slain had long run out. Palden, the greatest asset the Brothers have, simply isn’t omnipotent.
Germio, the Inglorious Hands’ only [Lay Priest] had shoved through the crowd.
“We have no Writ of Purpose.”
A piece of holy paper given to them had excused them from raiding villages in the name of the Divine Decree. Yet Yulvres saw the necessity of what they were about to do, Writ of Purpose or not. The rest of the Torregornian [Mercenaries] faith had wavered, resigning themselves to commit this act of sin. The Severed Swords gripped their weapons tightly. Yet they waited for Numisley’s words; for him to let go of the proverbial leash that holds them.
“Go. But, I forbid you all from hurting or killing them. If possible. Take their food, but leave some for them.”
He might as well sentenced the starving hamlet to death. Yet each syllable spoken had ground his soul. He clung desperately to the vestiges of his morality as his justifications ran wild within his mind. He still saw how he caused the deaths of dozens of people. He saw the bleeding eyes of Atasaney, hearing his dying words within the haze of memory.
Cultrost tried pulling Graten’s arm as he saw the [Mercenaries] jugging towards the poor hamlet, but he only provoked a punch that knocked him flat on the ground.
“Don’t make me hurt you even more.”
Germio was the only other one trying to stop Yulvres and the others from going, preaching as if they were in a temple. Yet it fell on deaf ears, and he finally followed them in silence, holding his spear like he was carrying a great burden.
Cultrost stood up and saw that it was too late. He did the only thing he could think of doing. For the first time since they were children, Cultrost punched Numisley in the cheek.