With the dirt of the road they walked on softly crunching under their feet, the pastor had his brow set deep in thought.
“Is the corruption of the woods so bad?” he asked her with astonishment. Though she had only told him what she thought was necessary—the earth dying, the new forms of the beedants and the moarbits, the traps in their great number—it seemed that he had accepted her story all too quickly.
Guin nodded and told him, “The forest looks like it’s turning into a swamp, and there are more dead animals than I could count....”
The pastor stopped and pulled her back by the shoulder. “Guin, what do you intend to do about this?”
“... You aren’t going to say something about staying out of the forest now, are you? Because with or without your help, I’m going to find the hunters and... do whatever it is I can!” She had left her bargain with the fox spirit out of the story she had told him.
But Pastor Jormund shook his head. “That’s not what I am saying,” he told her, his eyes showing a peculiar sharpness Guin wasn’t sure she liked. “Spirit Corruption is extremely dangerous. An amateur shouldn’t be getting involved with—”
“What else am I supposed to do? I have a chance!” she cut him off. “If you were the only one with the power to do something, wouldn’t you do it?” The pastor’s eyes went wide, but he said nothing as she continued. “If I don’t, then what? What happens to the forest? What happens to the spirits and the animals there? And let’s not pretend that if the forest dies, this village won’t be affected!” Guin watched as his expression went dark. “I told you the truth. Don’t turn away and betray my trust now.”
Pastor Jormund remained silent as he began walking again at a much faster pace. Guin followed with growing curiosity. She could tell that he wasn’t just upset at her words; he was angry at something. There was a pang in her heart as she realized that her relationship with this NPC had probably taken a nosedive, but as there was no official way to check relationships, there was no way for her to know how much. Not like I was trying to score brownie points with the Imperial church, anyway, she thought bitterly.
The Hunter’s Guild was on the far edge of the town, nestled in a hidden little area against the woods, not far off from Alta Noin’s cottage. The area had several connected buildings, many of which were alight with firelight. Loud noises and chattering could be heard from the outside, and Guin could see that there was a space where several animals were hung to dry and several tanning racks where pelts were strung up. Guin’s eyes narrowed as she looked over everything she could see, trying to find a pelt that matched the fox spirit’s description.
The pastor walked her up to the door of the main building and then stopped, sighing heavily at the door.
“Thank you, Pastor Jormund, for bringing me here,” Guin said, feeling slightly ashamed of herself for acting the way she had. The pastor made no response. Guin tilted her head and started, “Pastor Jormund? Pa—”
Without so much as an acknowledgment of her words, the pastor walked up to the door at a swift, determined pace and banged on the door. Shaking her head to snap herself out of the shock the action gave her, she ran up and tugged on his arm.
“What are you doing?” she hissed. The grim expression on his face took her further aback, but the door swung open before either of them could say anything.
“Eh? Whaddya want? Pastor?” an unkempt-looking jikak man reeking of alcohol and body odor asked. Guin wrinkled her nose and wondered if he was related to the horrible gatekeeper from before. “We don’t be needing no pastor here—”
“I am here to speak with Master Euen Dawl,” Pastor Jormund demanded curtly, his eyebrow twitching.
“Master Dawl?” the man at the door turned into the building and bellowed: “Oi! Master Dawl! There be a little spreader of the Lady’s legs here to see yeh!” The man looked back at Paster Dawl and let out a big burst of laughter, spraying both the pastor and Guin with his saliva and wash of breath that rivaled the corruption in the fox spirit’s cave.
Guin coughed and waved a hand in her face, “Was that necessary? Asshole,” Guin muttered, but the pastor put a hand out to silence her. Liorax hopped up over to the man’s shoulder and disappeared in a flash of green light. Guin snickered.
Just as Liorax vanished, a thin, roguish-looking man with long, curly black hair tied back into a tight bun appeared with a large dog at his side. A set of four small green mystricks on the left side of his face glittered in the firelight of the building as he approached them.
The man was lean and walked with as easy a grace as his wolfish hunting dog. Dressed in greens and browns with tanned golden skin and a faint goatee, he quite fit the image of Master Hunter in Guin’s mind. Or Captain Hook crossed with Robin Hood.
The man looked down at the drunk jikak, though he stood a few inches shorter, and sneered, “Try saying my name, his, and The Lady’s, with the dignity that they deserve next time.”
“M-Master Dawl...” The jikak man visibly paled as he attempted to defend himself. “This here fool comes here with his little bitch and dares to—” Dawl simply set his face into a deeper glare. The jikak man licked his lips and turned to Pastor Jormund. “For—”
Whatever he was about to say seemed forgotten in an instance, as, with a look of great concern on his face, he suddenly broke out into a ridiculous dance, spinning and bowing, hitting his head on the door multiple times, and the other three around him watched in mild horror.
“Wha-What-What the! Ahhhh!” He fell flat on his face. Master Dawl’s hound looked down at him with just as much disgust on his face as the rest of them.
Guin snorted as Liorax appeared, doubling over in laughter as he floated back to her shoulder. She gave him a subtle grin of approval.
Master Dawl glared down at his man. “Worthless,” he muttered, his lip curling. “Get off the floor—no more drinking for you tonight.”
“Ah, but, Master, it wasn’t—” went the jikak, covering his nose.
“Git!” the Master shouted at him with a kick to his ribs. The man on the ground scrambled up and ran out from the entryway with a terror-stricken face. Master Dawl sighed and looked over to the pastor with deep wrinkles in his brow.
Pastor Jormund raised a brow at him but said nothing as they turned and walked back out into the night. Dawl shooed his dog away and followed, sparing Guin a glance before he closed the Guild House’s door.
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“What brings you here, Jormund?” Dawl asked first as he walked out to meet the pastor. “Why bring a girl out here?”
Though she wanted to bite back at him for his comment, her irritation was quickly quelled by the anger emitted from the pastor. What the hell is this? Guin wondered, unsure of what her role was in this scene.
“What is going on in the forest?” Pastor Jormund asked.
Dawl adopted a lax pose and crossed his arms. “What do you care about the forest?” Master Dawl asked, apparently annoyed by even the suggestion that Jormund could have a right to. Sighing, he shook his head. “I’ll be needing you to be a little more specific than that. The forest is big and strange—even on a normal day.”
Pastor Jormud ran a hand through his hair and adopted a very boyish stance as opposed to the usual dignified one that typically oozed from the man of the cloth. “Euen, why I am I hearing about corruption in the woods?”
Guin stepped closer to them and observed Dawl as he tilted his head. “Corruption?” he repeated, furrowing his brow. “Spirit Corruption? In the forest?” The entitled air that he had been giving off before faded. Understanding and sadness flickered across his face, but he gathered composure quickly, shaking his head. “I swear to you, Jormund, I’ve heard nothing about corruption in the woods. My hunters haven’t spoken of seeing anything unusual of late; corruption would be noticed. How did you hear of this?”
Suspicious, Guin chose to cut in, “The root of it is in a cave. From here, it’s about twenty minutes or so to the northwest. It’d take another ten minutes to fight through the corrupted creatures that guard it, depending on the fighter's skill.” Dawl looked at her in shock as she continued. “There are dozens of traps set throughout the area—very close to one another—and in them, dozens of animals, all dead. Many rotting. Then there is the cave which hides the many corpses left to rot.”
“Y-You..?” the hunter began.
“I was the one that found them and told Pastor Jormund. If you want to argue with someone, let it be with me.”
Dawl looked her over, his hand resting on the hilt of a dagger on his belt. “... If it is as you have said, then the Law has, indeed, been broken. Grounds enough, perhaps, to start a corruption—but powerful enough to feed it?”
Looking directly into his eyes, she told him, “One of them was a Spirit Fox.” The man’s adam’s apple bounced as he swallowed. He was hiding something, but Guin didn’t like how obvious it was.
Dawl’s eyes glistened with understanding and hatred as they shifted to the ground. “I see,” he said, looking out into the forest surrounding them. “A grave error has been made. And this time, there is no one left to bargain with them.”
“How can this be happening, Euen! How can this be happening again, and on your watch, when you know what is at stake!” Guin’s eyes flickered over to him where he stood with clenched teeth and balled fists. Again?
Dawl chuckled. “What would you have the like of me do, Jormund?” Dawl asked, his voice accusatory. “Even if I find the one who broke the Law and cast them out, you know as well as I that without the backing of the Dragon King, we have no voice!”
“And who’s fault is that I wonder,” growled the pastor, his voice thick with bitterness and loathing. What is going on here? Guin wondered, looking between the two men as they stood opposed to one another, a great rift between them. As she realized that everything they were talking about was likely to be the next quest for her questline, her heart sank with the conclusion: ... I’m never going to get out of this tutorial, am I? Graduate to the main game, or see the questline to the end. Her personality lent her to the latter. Sorry, Stell.
“Shut up,” Dawl bit back. “As if you have the right to talk.”
There was a moment of silence until Jormund spoke, “Then what? We let the corruption spread, then? That’s it? The forest they gave their lives for dies just like this?”
“Why do you ask me?” Dawl asked. “I have no power. You should ask yourself these questions, O’ Holy Man! Blame me all that you want, Jormund, I understand what it was that I did, and you’ve lived with yourself all these past years—but I am powerless! At most, I could remove a hunter license—if the culprit is a hunter. If not, well then. Shall we both attempt to convince our flocks and the law enforcement goons your mother trained that spirits are real and are destroying the forest because a fool broke Laws that your Lady speaks nothing of? And while you’re at it, why don’t you tell them what really happened to Melora and Master Rew!”
Looking sick, Jormund’s face fell. Melora and Master Rew?
Deciding she had heard enough, Guin shook her head and interjected. “ Stop this. I don’t have a clue what’s going on, but in this case, it’s not worth it.”
The pastor looked at her. “Guin, henceforth, I forbid you to go into the forest!”
“Fat chance,” Guin snorted at him. “Technically, I was forbidden until today, and that never stopped me.” Jormund bit his lip with eyes of panic. She sighed. “Look. I did leave out a significant detail earlier. I have met with the spirit causing the corruption and struck a deal with her.”
“Guin!” Jormund scolded, but she spoke over him.
“If I can give the pelt that was stolen from her back, she says she’ll be willing to help purify the damage that she and the other degrading spirits have caused,” she explained. “It may sound ludicrous, but I happen to have run across a bit of leverage over her in my travels, so I have chosen to trust her. If nothing else, I guarantee you that this fox spirit loves this forest—and I don’t think she wants it to rot away because of greed and hate. You can choose to trust and help me or not. I don’t care. But you aren’t going to stop me.”
The two gave her and each other awkward glances.
“Guin...” Jormund started.
“Exactly what is there for you to lose?” Guin asked him, growing frustrated.
“...A lot,” he answered, looking down.
“We will lose more if we let her act alone,” Dawl growled back at him and looked up at Guin. “You are a precocious brat; I’ll give you that,” he said. “Give me a few days, and I’ll see about finding the pelt. You’d best prepare yourself for the worst, though, child. Spirits aren't pets, and they are more dangerous than any wild animal.”
With a bow, Guin said, “I think you for your aid, Master Dawl.”
“This—” the pastor started, but Dawl cut him off.
“You rolled over last time, Jormund,” the hunter warned. “Don’t do it again.” Dawl gave a curt bow and walked back over to the house.
The tension in Pastor Jormund’s body visibly released as he walked over to her. “Nothing I can say will stop you?” he asked her in a soft voice.
Guin shook her head. “Nothing.”
The pastor sighed and egged her to walk toward the village. “Within the next few days, before you go back to the woods, I implore you to visit Alta Noin’s cottage. I will wait for you there. If there is nothing I can do to stop you, then I cannot justify abandoning you to your cause. This is, after all, the role of such useless adults as myself. Those who cannot do, teach.”
“Please never say that last bit again,” Guin said, cringing. “Sure, it’s true for some people, but not all—and even then, for many of them, it’s because they lacked the means to do otherwise, be the cause lack of access to resources or the simple fear of stepping out from the shadow of their doubts. Such rubbish.”
After staring at her for a moment, he burst out laughing. “Indeed,” he said. “Indeed. Now, you run off home. Apologies, I should have kept better track of the hour.”
Guin looked at her clock. It was nearly midnight in-game and out. With a sigh, she bid the pastor farewell and began her walk back to her mother’s cottage.
She had learned many things this night. She glanced back at the Hunter’s Guild, her mind busy, her heart sinking.
Master Dawl has said he would get the pelt for her, but which pelt would he bring her, she wondered. Lifting a hand as if to hold the Guild house in her hand, she enclosed her fingers around it as if to trap it within her palm.
Guin snorted. Never underestimate anyone.