The Vicar’s screams died away to sounds of ecstasy as I watched Protag descend the stairs and loot the burning body of the Adjutant. When I gave the little skeleton a thumbs up he returned the gesture. The moment was broken when the withered husk of the dead Vicar fell next to me and burst into powder. My lip curled in disgust and I looted the remains.
“Could you be a dear and stop whining about your injuries long enough to set me free,” said a voice tinged with annoyance and anger.
Sighing, I struggled to my feet to regard the now immaculate naked form of the little vampire stretched out on the iron chair. Kicking the brazier out from under it and gave her a flat look as I started to unlock her manacles, “I see torture hasn’t broken your usual charm.”
“Are you alright?,” I asked.
She gave me a withering look with her single brilliant eye and said, “Given the sound of screams above I am led to believe you utilized your usual sneaking nature to leave enemies lurking in our escape route?”
Finally removing the last binding I answered her, “Not as many as you might think.”
Protag cleared his throat and tossed her some simple breeches and a shirt which she quickly donned. While she busied herself I moved to the door to the stairs.
Something seemed to dawn on Theodora when she looked up at me, “You aren’t my servant…”
Nodding, I helped her up, “I wouldn’t have made it here without advancing a Tier. No more ordering me around at a whim. You’ll have to trust me.”
She looked into my eyes and sighed as she patted me on the cheek, “They grow up so fast.”
My expression softened and I shook my head, “Do you need a weapon?”
She considered the question and nodded, “A simple sword will do,” and I summoned a non silver weapon I had found before the ambush at the church and handed it to her.
“What is the situation?”
Sighing I scratched my chin, “Three of those Priests of Pain, and who knows what in the manor house leading to the Descent. In addition we need to invade one of the noble houses and help one of our allies.”
Her eye widened and she smirked, “Truly ambitious are we?”
Giving her my best smile I offered a deep sarcastic bow as I gestured toward the door, “Shall we indulge in some carnage?”
Protag looked on in confusion as the little vampire curtsied and led the way toward the door.
Looking down at my savaged right arm I muttered, “I might need to grab a bite on the way…”
We arrived on the upper floor at the tail end of the struggle between the team of Valerie, the Foixs and what appeared to be the prison cook. The halls were lined with dead guards and pools of spreading blood. Mattieu was studying a painting and Valerie looked on the verge of being sick.
There were several dead guards heaped around the entrance to the manor house. They looked to have been battered and bashed into the stone floor and walls, leaving bloodstained craters surrounding what remained of their battered forms. In addition an entire murder of force crows crouched on their bodies, tearing into them with bloody abandon as Mattieu Foix looked on with wide eyed interest.
Celeste Foix was raising her staff toward the cook, who was floating a foot off the ground and clutching at an invisible hand around his neck. I could tell the man was on the cusp of death and I said, “Celeste, let that one go.”
She gave me a hurt look and the man dropped to his knees, gasping and tearing at his throat. He let out a hurried plea, “Oh, thank you for saving me my lord! Thank you so…”
Looking down into the man’s eyes, his expression changed to adoration and his voice took on a note of obsession as he said breathlessly, “There you are my love.”
Looking around at the others with a grimace of contrition I said, “I don’t know why this happens.”
Gesturing at the cook, I said, “I need to drink your blood.”
The cook stumbled to his feet and sighed with what seemed to be genuine yearning, “Of course my love.”
Careful to keep my eyes on his to prevent breaking the charm I imagined the judging stares of those around me and groaned. Advancing on the cook, I sank my teeth into his neck. When the charm vanished the doomed cook started to fight but then go slack as the elation of those who befell the vampire's kiss overwhelmed him.
Celeste’s expression of pouting disgust was replaced by genuine wonder, her cheeks tinged with a dark blush as she breathed, “How fascinating.”
When I was fully healed and the man was barely a husk I threw the pile of withered flesh and bone to my feet and looked to Theodora.
She smirked at me and said, “Does that happen every time you use the eye?”
Raising an eyebrow I muttered nervously, “Why? Does it not happen like that for you?”
She covered her mouth as she giggled and turned away whispering, “You are strange, little spawn.”
Rolling my shoulders, I slapped my face once again to stave off an entire night of gaming and took a deep breath, “A couple more stops and we are out of here.”
When we emerged from the prison I was surprised that we didn’t find an entire battalion of cultists waiting for us with weapons and spells at the ready. Celeste waved a hand toward the gate and a hand made of force tore the iron edifice free and tossed it to the ground with a violent crash.
Summoning some of the tabards I’d been gathering from my victims I tossed them to my new allies. Theodora gave me a disgusted look and said, “Once again you choose to insult me by suggesting I become a fashion victim.”
Celeste’s expression was no less displeased, “I have to agree with your vampire lord. You wound me.”
Wincing, I shook my head as they chose to put on the tabards despite their superior fashion sense.
Turning to Valerie I said, “Lead the way. Let’s try and avoid conflict until we get to the location. We want to try and avoid the Branded Priests of Pain if we can.”
She drew her rapier and nodded toward the gate, “Follow me and don’t act suspicious. We are on patrol. Protag, stay in the center.”
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Using my system granted knowledge of disguise, I moved between my comrades making quiet suggestions and changes to assure they looked as much like cultists as they could.
As I adjusted Valerie’s tabard and the rough cultist helm she wore, her eyes sought mine. Her expression was unreadable as she whispered, “Florin, we need to talk.”
Finally looking into her eyes I said, “Nothing to say. I broke my own rules. I was exhausted and confused. I shouldn’t have put that kind of thing on you.”
She started to speak, “Florin…”
Cutting her off I smiled and winked, “Head in the game Lafontaine, we’ll talk all this out after we get out of here.”
Before she could continue the conversation I walked away and called out to our makeshift patrol, “Let’s get this party rolling.”
Without more discussion we set out into the debris strewn streets that led deeper into the district.
We encountered few patrols and when we did they were in the distance searching the rubble of a nearby manor house. Valerie explained that the rubble represented what remained of the richest house in L’Chasse. The Sievert family had been one of the first to make close ties with the Immolated Order. Unfortunately, they had played a little too fast and loose with their perceived allies.
The High Inquisitor at the time had taken offense at a casual comment Elini Sievert made at a dinner party and it had all been downhill for her family. Not only had their house been burned to the ground her entire family had been crucified on red hot iron crosses… with one exception. The man who still languished in the depths of the prison was the last of their line.
Celeste spoke up when the tale had been told, “In the end House Foix lasted as long as we did because we did not lick the boots of the mad cultists.”
Mattieu added, “They did come for us eventually, however.”
Celeste sulked, “We waited far too long to rebel.”
It was at that moment that we rounded a pile of rubble that had once been a street corner and caught sight of our destination. The stark difference between the ruined district and the untouched manor house was shocking. The walls were intact and the gate remained guarded by three armed guards and a priest in robes so heavy that their face was lost in shadow.
Beyond the gate there were gardens in rich vibrant lilac, lavender, and plum hues on trees with vibrant white trunks. A series of stepped platforms rose up from the gardens toward the manor house. To my shock I could see that there was a fucking garden party taking place at the estate. I could just make out figures milling about the violaceous scenery in fancy dress but little other detail.
Valerie stood beside me surveying the manor, her body tense and her face a mask of conflicted anger.
Studying her face, I put a gentle hand on her armored soldier as I said, “Is that your home?”
She looked to me sharply and her expression softened, “That is the Lafontaine manor.”
“Are we going to need to pull our punches in there?”
She shook her head and looked back to the expansive gardens as she said, “Everyone besides my mother has chosen to forsake L’Chasse to bow at the feet of the Lady of Flame. I only wish to save the last family I have.”
Smiling, I said, “Hey,” to draw her attention back to me. She had an expression I hadn’t seen before. It was filled with expectation and what might be hope.
Giving her a lopsided smile I said, “We are going to save your mom. I promise.”
She tucked a lock of hair that had somehow escaped her helm behind her long sharp ear and looked away and down, “Thank you.”
Protag growled near my knee, “Let’s fucking crash this thing, eh?”
Smiling down at him I rolled my shoulders in the dive chair, “Hell yeah.”
–
Theodora and I perpetrated the most clandestine charge we could manage at the gate. She had subdued the mind of the priest and had them summon a flaming python which proceeded to wrap itself around a distracted guard and stuff itself down his throat.
I was already dispatching my second guard when she had her priest sit down and watch while she tore the throat out of another. In the end, the last guard had managed a single yell of terror before we teamed up and pinned the man down so that Theodora could refill her Essence reserves. The cowled priest she had charmed followed after Theodora like a lost puppy.
When we entered the gates of the fancy garden party the guests somehow had not noticed when we dispatched the guards outside. They allowed our disguised band of misfits to roam amongst them like wolves among sheep.
The men and women milling through the party could not have been a more stark contrast to the collapsing world outside the opulent garden. Of course… there were signs that their ostentatious displays of wealth were more in line with the ruin of their world than they might have hoped. Their gaudy dress was threadbare, stained, and ancient. Most were drunk or otherwise inebriated or so terrified that they could barely function. It was no surprise they hadn’t noticed our violence at the entrance. They all milled about putting on a play of civility and wealth beneath the flaming torches held by the cult priests lining the central walking path.
When I remembered that these were the people who had ordered the bizarre carnage in the slums of Lothin I lost all semblance of concern for their fate.
Three mutants, a variant that had not been part of the force in Braithe, roamed amidst the terrified nobles. The creatures were armless and bipedal but a seam had opened from their waist to the crown of their head filled with gyrating ribs that had become brilliant bone white teeth that weaved and clattered as the monsters let out a constant low whine. They occasionally lunged at some of the drunken nobles or coughed up gouts of black blood with deep echoing coughs.
Valerie joined me and nodded toward the highest platform before the sprawling manor. She said, “That is my mother and she is standing next to Sevrin.”
The similarity between the two women was striking. Valerie’s mother was far more similar in physique and appearance to the mutant version of her sister we had been forced to dispatch in Braithe than to her daughter. She was a giant woman with broad shoulders and muscular arms barely contained by a tight black and silver overcoat. However, her features were much like her daughter. Her lips were glossy black, her eyes exactly the same vibrant gold as Valerie, and her onyx hair rolled atop her head into a style that would have made a Victorian noble jealous. She was leaning against a massive double bearded greataxe and looked furious.
Standing next to her was the man who conspired to bring Braithe to its knees. He was not what I expected.
Like most Haithan men he was short, perhaps one meter sixty. He was wearing a fashionable black cassock, the top two buttons undone and folded open to reveal the interior to be bright red. He had deep plum colored skin and a well trimmed silver beard and short wavy silver hair on his head. He was smiling widely and clutching his hands together as he made occasional comments to the giant woman beside him.
Behind both of them was young Alphonse Cardienne, wearing the same heavy plate mail armor I’d seen him wearing at the church ambush. He was still standing as tall and proud as I remembered.
As we reached the halfway point to the platform I heard a haughty voice call out, “Celeste? What in the seven depths are you doing here? I thought you were arrest…”
A scream went up and I looked over my shoulder to see Celeste hefting a gaudily dressed woman off her feet with one of her force hands. With a twist of her wrist the woman’s head was torn off with a fountain of blood spraying over the crowd.
As I muttered a curse the tense terror that wormed its way beneath the play of civility within the garden burst its way to the surface and chaos ensued.
In the end the fact that most of the nobles were drugged out of their minds provided a significant edge that made what could have been a terrible encounter more manageable. Those that could fight, rushed us in a screaming wave. Others ran for cover crying out in terror.
My Blood Cloak was a blurring laser-like line as I spun from target to target. I left them bleeding and staggering from my tried and true Hobble and Slice combo. After the second target I was also surrounded by a cloud of spinning and slashing Essence from my Dance of the Rose Hurricane. Theodora tore into my leavings with claws made of solidified blood. The tiny vampiress shed all facade of being a sly and condescending lady and became a monster, quickly drenched in the lifeblood of her enemies.
Valerie acted as a lightning rod to defend our casters. One of the armless mutants had rushed her with surprising speed. She was holding her shield up and into the beast’s mouth as it tried to tear off her arm with its rib teeth. It recoiled as a barely visible hand gripped its head at a gesture from Celeste. A murder of force crows swooped in and tore into the mutant as Celeste yanked it away from the tank and started to fill the air with chunks of torn away flesh and thick black ichor.
Protag was cutting off a group of flanking cultist soldiers by tossing oil slick grenades in their way. The guards charged into it and started to slide to the ground. Theodora’s charmed cultist bellowed in a deep feminine voice, “My beautiful Theodora, let me show you my devotion!,” as a column of roiling flame burst downward from the dark sky and enveloped the guards, setting the oil on fire.
The garden was filled with the screams of burning cultist guards.
