“Please!” Vel banged on the door. “Let me out! They’ll kill me!”

  “As is your sacred duty!” Pennant shouted from the other side.

  “No. No,” Vel scolded. “How cruel are your gods to demand a sacrifice? To curse someone to die? Over, and over, and over again! I’m not the [sacrifice]. You better let me out, or I will burn this door down!”

  Vel pressed her hand against the door, letting the heat from her anger move from her face and chest, focused right to the palm of her hand. The power sparked, and━

  “Pennant,” she heard a little voice━Rosie’s. “Pennant! Listen to me!”

  The power faded, and Vel took in a sharp breath, placing her ear against the door to listen.

  “Pennant, I swear, if you give up a child to die, I will stand by you no longer!”

  Vel blinked.

  “But prosper━”

  “Prosperity this and posterity that! You see what good that’s done to my posterity! Pennant, we have three dead children, all of natural causes. None of the priests or priestesses did a damn thing to save them! Not even you and all your healing might could. Now open the door.”

  As the door handle rotated, Vel removed her hands, taking a step back. The fire never came, and the heat returned to her cross expression. When the door opened, Pennant gave her a dismayed look.

  “You bastard,” Vel said, the words spilling before she’d even thought them through.

  Rosie sighed, shoving her husband out of the way. “I’m sorry, dear. There must be another lavender haired girl out there.”

  “There isn’t,” Vel hissed. Perhaps this wasn’t her brightest moment, but she was so done! No, they would know at least a pinch of what she now knew about her “gods”. “They lied to me. Everyone lied to me, told me that my death was for the greater good! Everyone but Edard.”

  “Then you are the [sacrifice]?” Rosie asked.

  “Do you believe that the [sacrifice] keeps her class indefinitely if she’s never sacrificed?”

  “It would have to be so, would it not?” Pennant asked.

  “My class changed,” Vel said. “I am not the [sacrifice]. I can do magic, and I have stats.”

  “What is your class then?” Pennant asked, narrowing his eyes. He still, from what Vel could see, wanted to turn her in. She imagined years of deeply ingrained religion was warring within him, or rather, with his wife, who just looked avenging pissed. Yet, Vel felt the slightest twinge of sympathy━she knew of that war, the very internal war that prevented her from running away with Edard in the first place.

  Of course, Vel was not about to answer with “[Dark Avenger]”. That class sounded evil, so . . . “Holy Avenger,” she lied. “I have a new sacred duty.”

  Pennant’s hazel eyes lit up. “What is that?” he asked.

  “To save the world from a corrupt church,” Vel said. Surely, Godbreaker, whatever that was, had to do something with that lie, right? Well, she’d find out later. Instead, she was willing to lie to high heaven. Or hell. She didn’t care at this point.

  “Oh dear gods,” Rosie blinked. “How are you going to do that?”

  “I’m . . . still figuring that out,” Vel said. “But I need to find Edard first, and . . .” She paused. Perhaps it was best not to tell these people the rest of her plans. “I need to be discreet. I’m sorry, I can’t say everything.”

  “I understand,” Rosie nodded.

  “She could be lying,” Pennant said.

  “I’d be lying too if my life were on the line,” Rosie shot the old man a fowl look.

  “Bah!” Pennant threw a hand up. “Fine, but I want them gone sooner than later. I’ll finish healing your friend, but you leave us out of your business with the church. If they ever found out we knew who you were and let you go . . .” There was a realization that came to the man’s eyes, and he gulped.

  “They’d kill us,” Rosie said. “Child, the church has long been crumbling from the inside from their oppression. With a wise intuition, you might find help from those on your journey.”

  “Thank you, Mama Rosie,” Vel said, giving a small smile.

  “Of course.”

  Vel looked towards the front door, then to the room Sigurd was in. She needed information on where the Wayward Company went sooner rather than later, and she didn’t know if she could wait for Sigurd to get better now that news about her was spreading. Particularly since the knights at the mines knew where she was.

  “Do you know where the Wayward Company went?” Vel asked Rosie.

  “No, I’m never lingering in the market long enough. Although, I did overhear one of their young fellows selling foreign fruits say something about sailing. However, I don’t know if the sea is where they came from or where they’re heading.”

  “Would someone in the marketplace know?”

  “More than likely,” Rosie answered, then glanced up at Vel’s hair. She shook her head. “But you cannot go like this.” The elderly women passed by Vel and into the room. She opened a wide trunk at the edge of the bed, and after a second of digging through it, pulled out a large piece of square linen, tan in color. After folding it in half, Rosie turned to Vel, and draped it over her head.

  “There,” Rosie said, crossing the ends over Vel’s chest. “That’ll at least hide you somewhat. Hold it at your chin when you talk to people. Best that they don’t ever see the color of your hair.”

  “Thank you, Rosie,” Vel said, heaving a heavy sigh. She looked at Pennant, then to the door of the room Sigurd laid in. “Please keep him safe?”

  “I can make no guarantees, but I’ll do my best to finish healing him in the very least,” Pennant said.

  Vel nodded. She supposed she couldn’t ask for more. Plucking the parchment in Pennant’s hand, she burned it with a small burst of [fireball], then watched as the ashes harmlessly fell to the floor, the parchment taking flight from her hand for just a moment.

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  Finally, Vel opened the front door and stepped out onto the street. She turned back to look at Rosie, who was pointing to the left.

  “Market’s just down the road, dear,” Rosie said.

  Vel briefly smiled, then looked down the road with a glint of determination sparking in her blue eyes. She wore a serious expression as she started toward the market. Loosen up, she thought, but tensed as she passed a man in tan, then a woman in blue. Every person she came by sent a sharp rush of anxiety through her chest. Yet, she maintained her forward march, and refused to dart her eyes from side to side, that was, until she crossed a knight.

  This wasn’t just any knight, standing primly in the street with a surveying gaze, but rather a church knight. He wore colors of white and blue, and bore a white spear. While the spear rested upon his shoulder, Vel could only see the posture as threatening.

  Don’t look, she thought, turning her head away and pinching the shawl just under her chin. Ensuring that no hair peeked out, she even lifted a hand to pull it tighter around her face. A part of her found herself and her shawl somewhat suspicious, but as the cool wind blew and gray clouds hung overhead, she imagined that she must have looked like a very cold girl. She fit right in with the dozen other women on the street wearing similar shawls.

  Once she was past the knight, Vel let out a soft sigh. However, it wasn’t over yet. Individuals of people turned into small groupings walking along the edges of the dirt roads. Small groups then turned into big groups, and finally it was a crowd shoved between street vendors that lined both sides. Fruits, vegetables, and wares were on display, a deep grumble eking its way from Vel’s stomach.

  Food, yes, she would need that at some point. Not now though. Continuing on her mission, Vel briefly rubbed shoulders with a few people, then stopped before a middle aged man’s fruit stand. He looked up at her with a crooked smile, a few teeth missing.

  “What’ll it be, lass?” he asked.

  Vel opened her mouth, but the moment she did, a man stepped up beside her, then picked up an apple and offered it to her. “You look like an apple girl to me,” he said, giving what Vel supposed he thought was his most charming smile. In her opinion, it was a smirk. This man was full of himself.

  “Pardon, but I’ve no━”

  “Look, I’ll even pay for it,” the man said, and took Vel’s hand, the one not attached to her shawl, fortunately.

  “Unhand me!” Vel hissed, ripping her hand free and taking a step back. She bumped into something small, and when she turned to see what it was . . .

  Nothing.

  [Skill gained: Pickpocket]

  [0.5 Dexterity added]

  Vel gasped at the notification, and whipped her head back to the man still standing beside her at the booth.

  “You thief!”

  “Thief?” the fruit man asked, and immediately snapped a lid shut over his wares. Perhaps this was a common problem here? He snatched the apple from Smirks, who frowned.

  “I’m no thief, just a gentleman interested in━”

  [Skill gained: Deception]

  [0.5 Acuity added]

  Vel didn’t even listen to the rest of Smirks’ spiel when the notification popped up before her. “Please, leave me be,” she said.

  “What the lass said. Leave us be,” the fruit man nodded feverishly, looking skittish.

  “Tch, inane girl,” he hissed, and stepped away, Vel huffing, feeling almost riled up.

  [Skill gained: Insult]

  [0.5 Acuity added]

  Seriously, Vel thought. That was a skill? She was almost more mad at the purple fairy than she was at the man who’d tried to con her. At least she’d probably make good use of that skill.

  “Holy retribution, thank the gods for you, girl!” the fruit man said, and Vel turned back to see his crooked smile. He pulled the lid from his stand. “Now, did you want some fruit? I’ll give you a discount for your good service to me business, lass.”

  “Actually, I’m here for information,” Vel said.

  “That be free.”

  “I should hope it would be.”

  “If you buy a fruit.”

  Vel frowned. “Seriously?” she asked, then sighed. She reached a hand up, tucking in a stray hair. A . . . stray hair. No, no, no, she thought, pulling the shawl tighter over her head. She glanced back to the moving crowd in the street to try to see Smirks.

  Her heart leaped from her chest when she saw him talking to a church knight across the street. She snapped her gaze back to the fruit man. “I can give you silk in exchange for information,” she offered.

  “Silk?” the man’s eyes lit up.

  “Yes.”

  “Let me see,” he said, Vel flinching as he thrust a hand out towards her.

  This is taking too long, she thought. However, she shot a thick silk thread into his hand.

  [Webshot level 43]

  “Can you tell me where the Wayward Company went when they left town?” Vel asked.

  The man stared down at the silk thread for a long moment, jaw dropped. He looked up at her with blue eyes, then began to round his stand towards her slowly. “Aye,” he said, and wiggled a finger for her to come closer.

  You’re so shady . . . Vel thought, and against her better judgment, stepped closer to the man. “They be headed toward the sea,” he whispered. “I can take you to them.”

  “No, thank you,” Vel rocked back as she stepped away just as the crazy fruit man shot a hand out towards her.

  Vel yelped as he grabbed her wrist tightly and yanked her towards him. She didn’t let go of her shawl, holding it with a death grip, and because of that, well . . . She decidedly did not stop her momentum. Her head rammed right into his. He let go of her, Vel stumbling back and holding her head with her other hand.

  No one wins in a headbutt, she thought. “Ow,” she said.

  “Is there a problem here?”

  Vel looked towards the source of the voice. The knight━the one the conman had talked to her. Her mouth went dry, and she stared at him with a dropped jaw.

  “N-no,” Vel stuttered.

  The fruit man scuttled back behind his stand, and the knight narrowed his eyes at Vel. They shifted from hers up to the shawl over her hair. “Mind dropping the shawl, ma’am?” he asked.

  “I do mind, yes. I have a particular illness that makes my hair very brittle,” Vel lied. “It would be painfully embarrassing.”

  “Oh, I’m sure it would,” the conman said from behind the knight, smirking with his arms crossed.

  If I could slap you right now, Smirks . . .

  “We need to see the color of your hair. I’m sure you’ve heard the news of the missing [sacrifice]?” the brown haired knight reached a gauntleted hand towards Vel’s shawl.

  “Do not touch me, sir,” Vel hissed, stepping back.

  “Only for a moment.”

  As the hand drew closer, Vel’s heart skipped right out of her chest, and she with it. Turning sharply, she darted into a run, but was yanked when a hand grabbed her shawl. There was no choice━she let go of the shawl.

  “I knew it!” Smirks called out.

  “Sacrifice! Sacrifice, get back here!”

  Armored feet pounded behind Vel, who picked up her skirt. “Pardon!” she yelled, rushing past people. Forget your avenging manners for one second! she thought, and barreled right through a woman who yelped and fell to the ground with her basket of produce. No time to feel sorry, she pressed forward, eyes set on the healer’s home.

  Hearing the knight closing in on her, Vel pushed, feeling a deep, aching burn form in her legs. She broke free from the crowd. Just a little further, past one, two, three homes. Come on! A stitched formed in both her sides. While she’d done a lot more exercise recently, her body was still suffering from the effects of overused magic.

  I’m so foolish! she thought, breathing heavily as she kicked herself for using her silk making powers so much still. Just a little more. Four more houses, that was all she needed to━

  [Skill gained: Clothesline]

  [0.5 Strength added]

  Vel fell flat on her back, coughing out any air she had left in her after the impact. “No,” she wheezed out, and rolled, already working to push herself up. A heavy weight pushed against her back, forcing her against the ground.

  “No!”

  A pounding sounded in Vel’s ears, rhythmic and loud. Each beat of her heart echoed in her mind as one squirming hand was locked into place by a knee, then the second restrained by a thick hand. Another hand shoved her head into the ground.

  The sound of something metallic scraping across metal rang over the pounding. A dagger. “No, please, no!” Vel wheezed out, coughing.

  Edard, she thought, and froze as she felt the tip of the ice cold blade press against her neck. She gulped. Fire, no, not quick enough. Webs? Rock throw. Yes, she thought, letting out a whimper.

  “Please,” she repeated.

  “Your blood will feed the earth, Sacrifice,” the knight said, voice deep and guttural.

  The blade pressed into Vel’s skin.