“His thoughts weren’t muddled. Or do you not trust my judgment?”
The man was accompanied by a few dozen of the more prominent clergymen that had been assigned to take part in this journey, most of them showing the same skepticism and suspicion. Waiting for Peimon to respond, they maintained a practiced quiet as they stood idly by the roadside in their immaculate white robes amidst a backdrop of tall, verdant trees and vast, towering mountains.
“He must have hit his head, then,” Peimon went on. “In what world would a young lad like that encounter a demon and still manage to escape with his life?”
The others murmured in agreement.
“According to the boy, the creature was out of sorts, as if it had just woken up from a long slumber.”
“Your Grace,” said Gartur, who offered an explanation on his behalf.
Maels nodded.
“Respected gentlemen, you’ve seen for yourselves the boy’s state. He’s clearly overdrawn his inner energies, which can only mean that he attempted to repel the demon with a spell.” Nodding toward the carriage from beneath his hood, Gartur’s obscured expression was likely one of the utmost respect and politeness, as was usually the case whenever he addressed members of the clergy. “In this part of the empire, only a Silverkin could afford so many magical supplements, which means that even without them this boy likely has a substantial amount of inner energies.”
“Don’t you dare presume to speak to me, you filth!”
Several men at Peimon’s side spat directly onto Gartur’s chest, causing the elderly man to duck his head in shame.
Maels cleared the spit off of his old aid’s clothes with the same spell that he’d used to remove his sweat earlier in the afternoon. Fixing those present with a level stare, his words carried allusions of caution.
“When I allow someone to speak, disrespecting them is the same as disrespecting me. Perhaps I should speak with His Eminence the archbishop about the dangers of keeping certain…undesirables in our camp.”
Gartur sent him a grateful glance, bless his soul. The old Inverted man didn’t even know what it was that Maels planned to do, and yet he had still given his best effort to assist in convincing the others of the legitimacy of Maels’s claims.
Shrewd and quick to adapt, Peimon put on an apologetic smile and said in a seemingly sincere tone, “You’ll have to forgive us, Your Grace. As mortal instruments of Lord Lucian, we can’t help but respond warily to the presence of one of the Devil Drune’s abominations. In our zealousness, we accidently disrespected you. I ask that you please forgive us.”
Maels waved him off, all too familiar with the wily ways of his contemporaries and compatriots within the church. “Whether or not he actually saw a demon, or whether he did simply hit his head and hallucinate some sort of drastic situation, as followers of the Faith it’s our duty to investigate this matter in its entirety.”
There were dozens of senior priests gathered before him, many belonging to opposing factions within the clergy. Despite this, they sobered slightly at his choice of wording, united at least in their religious beliefs.
“I volunteer to investigate this matter,” said Peimon, who straightened his hunched posture in a show of resolve. “I’ve fifty guards in my retinue, as well as four arcanites. Surely we will be enough to deal with this demon, if it does exist.”
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“I’ll assign two arcanites to accompany whoever leads the investigation,” said a man at Peimon’s side, his frame short and stout with a head of thin, silver hair. “And ten of my guards as well.” Nodding at the cane in his hand, he added, “As much as I’d love to go myself, old age hasn’t been so kind to me and I fear that I would only slow things down.”
“I volunteer twenty of my guards,” said another senior priest, who was quickly followed by one person or other until all of those present had volunteered a total of 163 guards and fifteen arcanites to take up the task.
Seeing such a sight gave Maels a slight stirring of hope, for the pious selflessness that was on display was in direct confrontation with the avariciousness that also defined many of these men.
“That won’t be necessary,” said Maels, who held up a hand to silence the enthusiastic offers. “The demon was supposedly in a dazed state, meaning that there’s a chance it’s far stronger than what some of us might be suspecting. As the most senior member of the church present and also a magus that’s particularly proficient in light magics, the duty to look into this matter can only fall onto me.”
“But the countyfolk are awaiting your arrival,” said Peimon, who looked to the others for support. “If the procession arrives without you, Lord Caedmon might take offence to it. After all, we arrived punctually at our other destinations along the way.”
“Which means King Glenden will also take offence to it,” said the stout man, who added more weight onto his cane as he leaned forward. “Even His Eminence the Pope treads lightly around that one, so it would be wise to avoid causing any friction while we’re here, especially with the current state of things between the church and the aristocracy.”
All logical points, thought Maels, who was well aware that the noble houses were vying for more power within the empire after observing the success that the nobility of Baldor had seen in recent decades, a time in which they had managed to wrestle away much of the church’s power over the state.
“This is potentially a very urgent situation, so the procession can wait. There are over two hundred members in my retinue, including twenty arcanites and a high arcanite.” Nodding up ahead where a stone wall was barely visible off in the distance, he said, “Peimon, you’ll be in charge until I return. Lead our people into the county, but not into the city. This way it’ll become known that we’ve arrived in Distan, which should excite the people enough to hold them over until our arrival at the reception grounds.”
“Shall we send riders to Mayhaven to inform them of this potential threat?” asked Peimon, who seemed uncertain. “According to ancient records, there were hundreds of races of demons, and some were far stronger than others, like those pests that you’ve been gifting to lords left and right. The more I think on it, the more I can’t help but grow uneasy. The thought of one of those animals without their limiters on is…”
“I’ll send two riders, one to seek out the count and one to the cathedral to notify Bishop Rendel as to what’s going on. As for my retinue, I’ll leave behind the majority to help protect the caravan.”
“What do you mean, help protect? You’ll need guards more than we will.”
Looking at the distant mountain peaks that were visible through the long break in the upper canopy that was created by the Winding Road, Maels forced solemnity into his tone. “Have you forgotten who originally built these roads? This area was the theatre where the Inverted Wars came to an end, a timeless frontier that has long been the subject of countless legends and myths.”
The senior priests recoiled slightly at the allusion he was making, Peimon frowning at his words.
“You mean the lost legions? No matter how long they live, those demons are certainly dead by now.”
Everyone knew the legend of the Inverted armies that had supposedly vanished into the Tall Mountains without a trace after suffering a crucial defeat at the hands of a united humanity. It was, after all, a historical event that helped to shape the world as it was today.
Maels shook his head. “I’m not saying it’s them, specifically. I’m simply uneasy, for just because the boy only encountered one demon doesn’t mean that there aren’t more. Those legions…the fact is, they went somewhere. Who’s to say they didn’t leave behind any descendants?”
“Multiple demons…” said one of the priests, who eventually drew an oval over his chest after adopting a momentarily shaken look.
“Now,” said Maels, looking down at the elderly priests that were, on average, two heads shorter than him, “I’m off to look into this matter. I’ll be taking the boy with me, so that he can direct us to the exact spot where he had the encounter after I apply a bit of first aid to him. While I’m gone, everyone here is to follow Peimon’s orders as if his words were my own. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Your Grace,” came a unanimous response.
As the others rushed off to follow his commands, he turned to Gartur and said, “Bring the boy out. Have Ser Asten carry him.”
“Right away, Your Grace.”