It had been two weeks since Gerald bravely put his survival above his own scruples. In time, he suffered through many more of Anna’s lectures. The lessons ranged from proper etiquette to the cleaning of carcasses. Before she was accepted among the ranks of the Blessed, Anna had been a butcher.
“...In any case, Gerald, you were only the first of many. Every day, new refugees from the Peeking Woods pour into our Marshweld.”
She’s not using my title, [Penitent], right now. This could be a sign that she’s warming up to me and doesn’t wish my social status to interfere in casual conversation... but I know the truth. She’s simply too annoyed to sound proper while complaining.
Anna scowled as she marched ahead. “Still, they’re well-behaved, so we don’t have cause to turn them away or sacrifice them.”
Gerald hobbled after her on crutches. He kept up with Anna only due to his nature as a Blessed; the two had the same Ace of Speed. His head was bowed, but his eyes were flicking back and forth as if he were reading a script off a parchment.
“Indeed, Anna. Yet surely a sinner worth making an example of will eventually appear?”
It had become a familiar sight to the [Acolytes] of Marshweld. Anna insisted that Gerald get regular exercise, so the two did laps around the Bent Chapel’s cloister each morning. Anna would complain, and Gerald would dissemble. The two failures were inseparable.
“Excuse me. I have a delivery for Father Ache. Can you guide me to him?”
Abruptly a young woman stood in front of the two. She carried a burlap sack, a club, and a blithe smile. There were far too many pockets on each of her clothes. Gerald’s eyes narrowed. He’d been taught by Anna how to check the Class and Rank of another Blessed.
You scrutinize the R2 [Tourist].
It’s not a Class that the Jointed Goddess provides. However, her Rank marks her strength as out of my reach. This is not to be the site of my gamble.
He bowed his head to her. “Of course. I will lead you to Father Ache now. [Acolyte] Anna, I’ll meet you for the congregation tonight.”
Anna nodded warily to the messenger and marched away. Her footfalls were notably quieter than before.
Gerald began to hobble forward. “If I may be so presumptuous as to ask your name?”
The [Tourist] grinned, eyes roaming over the cloister’s crenellations as she walked. “Oh, how quaint! The servants back home are not nearly so polite... address me as Lady Brenda, please!”
At Rank 2, she’s killed at least once before. I must remain respectful. Even if her manner annoys me. “Yes, Lady Brenda.”
“Say, do you know what era the Bent Chapel was constructed in? Its architecture seems largely functional, but there are hints of the visceralist movement in its embellishments, to say nothing of the open floor plan.”
Do you take me for a stuffy academic?
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.
“I haven’t the foggiest, Lady Brenda. I only immigrated to Marshweld a month and a half ago, so I fear I’m not well-educated on its history.”
“Hm. A poor choice of tour guide on my part, then.”
Gerald did not reply. There was a short, awkward pause.
“Where do you hail from, if not Marshweld?”
“My hometown of Rivervall was swallowed up by the Peeking Woods. My wife and our children refused to follow me to seek a new home, believing the known dangers of the Woods safer than the sheer unknown of travel.”
Seeing as I was nearly sacrificed, they’re probably right.
Gerald spat on the ground, then paled. “Pardon me, Lady Brenda. It is a harsh topic for me. I meant no offense.”
“No, I see I’ve touched a nerve. You are pardoned, [Penitent]...?”
“Gerald, my lady.”
“I see. I myself am a widow, for similarly ignoble reasons.”
She leaned in, like a delighted child whispering a secret.
“You see, I burnt my husband to death for this second Rank.”
Gerald’s neck sprouted chills
“...We’re here, Lady Brenda. Father Ache’s office lies through these doors.”
Gerald was already unlatching the gates. They opened with a cavernous groan. Lady Brenda skipped into the gloom without so much as a backwards glance at him. As the doors began to close, he saw her untie the twine that held her burlap sack shut. Silver coins began to spill out.
Bang! The doors clattered. Gerald stumbled away, suppressing the convulsions of his throat. How many of the local deities permit fratricide?
----------------------------------------
It was time for the Emissaries’ congregation. As usual, it began on Tuesday afternoon and continued long into the night.
Gerald sat on the farthest pew beside Anna. His view of the pulpit was blocked by robes. Instead he watched the candlelight play on the ceiling, letting Father Ache’s solemn voice wash over him. I wonder if I’ll see the Jointed Goddess again, now that I have accepted Her gift? Though perhaps my reasons remain too selfish.
“Transformation reigns over all things and passes through all worlds... Both the Vast Underworld and our flesh and blood lives are inconstant... In celebration of this, today, I have a guest speaker here among us to discuss ephemeral beauty. Brenda of the Traveler’s Guild, come forth.”
It can’t be!
But her voice was unmistakable. A light, gleeful thing, not entirely at home in the cold black chapel, but carving a place among its shadows.
“Good evening! I thank you for this opportunity in the hallowed name of the Traveler. I’ve chosen one of my favorite passages for today. It just so happens to be relevant to one of you. Now...
“Between us and stardust, there is only air and time. In all things there is a semblance of nothing and a tendency towards extinction. Like water flowing downhill, our greatest clarity comes as we are physically diminished...”
Gerald felt his cheeks heat up as she continued. She clearly views me as a friend, to deliver a sermon on this topic just after meeting me. But I don’t plan to remain ‘content in injury and age’, as she puts it... how embarrassing!
Still, the contemplative murmuring of [Acolytes] marked her sermon as a success.
“Now, to demonstrate my sincere commitment to these beliefs, I shall be maimed. Father Ache, please select a suitable Rank 2 to kill me.”
Huh?!
Father Ache’s similar stunned expression appeared in brief between uncomfortably shuffling believers. He recovered his dignity before even disappearing beneath the crowd.
“...You know it is blasphemous for our fully initiated to accept a suicide offering. There must be an actual fight to the death, or Our Lady will detest the winner...”
Brenda’s grin was audible. “Then I will fight back, of course.”