Chapter 55: What a Mess
Alaric
⠀
Chapter 55: What a Mess
Sobs rack your shoulders and chest, but it feels like the weight of the world has been lifted from them. You hold onto Serpent all the tighter. "What a mess. Thank you so much for telling me all of this— but this doesn't change anything. We still have to get to Chesty—" You break from the hold, finish the stairs you've been constructing, and help Serpent to his feet. "—and the world is bigger than just Wearmoor."
A mad look flashes at you. One from a man who's been willing to sacrifice everything for the greater good. "You're damn right."
"I don't care if I need to summon Agriculture in the midst of the damn city, if that's what it takes to fix things. Once we get Chesty's side of this story, the people of Wearmoor will know what has happened." You lead Serpent ahead of you, just in case he missteps. Every footfall feels a little warmer. A little lighter. "Giles should be given the chance to own up to his sin. He'll be judged, alright— starting with why he did it. Why he's remorseful. What we can use to our advantage, once we get to him."
"I'll get you his location, if you want it now."
"I'll decide how to proceed once we have everything we need. There is no need for— there is no need for anger to cloud Our judgement yet."
You've probably been with the invocation for a little too long, and under a little too much mental strain on the heels of calling upon Goddesses back to back. It's alright.
"If you say so."
You and Serpent make it to the roof of the building, cautiously scaling down the side of the structure. You once again keep right behind your boy, going first down the ivy at the side of the building in the event that he slips or falls. Serpent's arms are trembling. His injuries may be healed, but he was incredibly slender even before his imprisonment. It's such a struggle for him to scale down the side of the home that it takes twice as long for you both to reach ground level, and his arms give out about four feet from the grass.
You're already standing on the ground, and help your boy stay on his feet as he falls beside you. None of the trip wire is set off, or so much as brushed against.
A careful but brisk procession is made through the tunnel of disarmed wires that are positively coating the front yard.
You really have to say something. A lot more frustration than you intended tilts into your speech, as you angrily gesture at the web of death around you. "Why the fuck does The Freesia Society have so many sorcerers—?"
Caught between coughing and laughing, Serpent steadies himself against you for a moment. "Didn't think you had it in you, Father."
"It's been a— it's been a very long year." You were even more uptight when you last saw your boy. Right now, your grimace could still easily cut the wires you're walking past.
"Well, they used me as bait. As soon as the Freesias found out that you and the other Fathers are here in Wearmoor, they knew they had to move. A small force of zealots offered to try and take you all down personally. It looks like the one who nearly killed me got away from you, but the rest...?"
The corpses of three sorcerers litter the forest up ahead. Father Pevrel is nowhere to be seen.
"...I think they threw the best they could afford to lose at you, Father. I wouldn't expect a direct attack like that again. Not unless you go looking for trouble—" He laughs to himself, emphasizing the split in his tongue. "—who am I kidding? They'd be fools not to seize the opportunity, if they've been gathering their strength for this long AND know how worn out you already are. I'm sure they'll try everything they can to kill you."
The heretic's laughter falls as quickly as it came. "Or the people nearest to you."
The two of you stand in the middle of the clearing, while you take Serpent into another hug with just one arm. All of the illusory trees have vanished, leaving a sparsely populated wood that's coated in blood. Weird cracks persist in the soil where many of the black holes appeared during your fight. Countless trees have been ripped into shreds, or are busted at their core from auditory attacks. You take some solace from the unmoving bodies lying about— Serpent walks over to the man who made the sound-based attack at you, and spits on his corpse— but there's still no sight of your closest ally.
"FATHER PEVREL!" Your shout echoes for what must be a mile. "PEVREL, ARE YOU OUT HERE—?!"
"He's with you?" Serpent moves away from the corpse he's been defacing, quickly striding up beside you.
On the periphery of your green-gold sight, a shadow stirs. You spin around to face the mass of darkness, breathing a tremendous sigh of relief.
"There you are."
The priest of blood is soaked in viscera. He looks like a demon, and the rasp of his voice nearly makes him sound like one, too.
"Mathers Ormond, the snake. Also known as Serpent— mostly to those who have entered the ruins, or kept your company during Calunoth's last civil war." Father Pevrel doesn't hold out a hand. He's looking Serpent up and down as if he could kill him through judgement alone. "You're lucky that Father Anscham and King Magnus have been protecting you."
The two men engage in a battle of sneers at one another, nostrils flared, lips turned down in scowls harder than iron. Serpent lets out a bark of a laugh. "You could say that, couldn't you?"
There's no stopping the barrage of scrutiny and assumptions. You know Father Pevrel well enough by now to know that he only does this with people he actually wants to get to know, and that it's best for him to get it out of his system.
"If I'd had it my way, you and your ilk would have been tried and punished appropriately." A quick look passes over Serpent from head-to-toe. "Though by the looks of things, you're nearly as impervious to traditional methods as any other ruins-hopper." The priest's empty eye sockets flash to you, then back to Serpent. "You both are directly responsible for the deaths of over fifty men and women, all of which had not carried out their full sentences. Judgement has been passed on many of these individuals in a righteous and satisfactory manner— but as for the rest?"
He narrows his absence of eyes, sheathes Remorse, and crosses his arms. "You both owe it not only to the city of Wearmoor, but to your very souls to amend this entire situation. Let's start with what information you've gathered."
The lingering animosity between your allies has sparks of tension flying through the air.
You look between the two men briefly. "You two have met each other before?"
Serpent doesn't take his golden eyes off of the priest for a second. "Briefly."
Father Pevrel turns to go, his mood completely soured. "You look better on a rack. Let's talk while we move—"
"Not so fast." While the priest's back is turned, you catch a slight smile on Serpent's face. That kind of rat bastard smile your children get when they're plotting something. "You know, for the Lord of Investigation, I've always thought you were a little slow on the uptake..." Your boy had pocketed a small pebble, and tosses it off into the distance— right onto the massive, sprawling web of trip wire you've been literally calling upon Gods to avoid for the last half hour.
You dive reflexively, tackling Father Pevrel and Serpent one second before a rush of hot air and white light erupts from the center of the booby-trapped cabin. "Get DOWN!"
The sound is deafening. The entire structure is suspended for a split second in waves of heat, before it explodes into flames and hundreds of pieces of wood.
On the ground, shielding your allies with your body, you swing up a hand and create a wall of solid light and heat before the explosion hits you all. Your shield incinerates every single splinter that comes your way for several long seconds. Waves of heat trail around the edges of the massive defense, straining your body and soul.
Heart racing, not daring to let your allies lift their heads, sweat dripping from your brow, you keep both men pressed to the dirt while you look past your shield of light. There's nothing left of the cabin. Only a scorched mark on the soil, and hundreds of loose strands of blackened, gossamer thread drifting through the air.
You let down your shield, try not to have a panic attack, and immediately have to hold back Father Pevrel from punching Serpent in the face. The three of you scramble in the mud for a second— you body-blocking Serpent from taunting Father Pevrel any further, holding the priest's fist at bay.
"Both of you CALM THE FUCK DOWN! For Mercy's sake..."
Serpent smiles at the Lord of Wrath, who's pallid face is bright red out of sheer anger. "Some way to forget where the fuck we are, old man. Thanks for saving my ass, but you'd think I could get a warmer welcome, after everything I went through?"
The three of you break up, breathless and almost too frustrated to speak.
Father Pevrel gets back to his feet with a huff, looking like he could draw his sword and gut Serpent at any second. "You are taxing Father Anscham's SOUL for the sake of trying to get under my skin?! Is this any way to repay two men who have dropped their families, lives, and homes to come and save your ass? The LEAST you can do is try to make amends for the DAMAGE that you've wrought." A broad, furious gesture is made to the smoldering bits of wood around the forest. It's a tremendous blessing that the clearing is almost empty. "NOT cause us any more grief! What if this started ANOTHER fire?!"
If you and Father Pevrel have the heat of the sun on you, Serpent might as well have wandered into the snows of Desolation. His voice is as cold as can be.
"If I hadn't set that off, someone might have wandered into the woods and unwittingly killed themselves. Having Father Anscham here is the safest way we could have dealt with that trap."
Arms crossed once again, Father Pevrel spits, "fine. If you're done making matters worse—"
You pinch the bridge of your busted nose, close your eyes, and remember how to breathe. Though you're practically numb with pleasure and heat, there's still a thread of stress in your voice. "Serpent."
He looks incredibly guilty. "Yeah?"
"Please don't do that without warning me first."
"Sorry. I'll give plenty of warning next time."
You are the leader of the Church of Mercy for good reason. Preaching would be fine in most circumstances, but here? Muttering suffices. "I need you both to get along. This is an embarrassment when we— when we need clear communication above all other things."
A thin, fine line is all that Serpent's lips are for a few seconds. He looks particularly ashamed of himself.
There's something holding Father Pevrel's tongue as well, so you all set off. The brisk walk you all assume is headed straight back for the city, in the direction of the prison.
You personally fill Father Pevrel in on the situation at hand, including everything that Serpent has told you, and your own observations about the sorcerers you faced. By the time you're done, Father Pevrel has uncrossed his arms and looks significantly more relaxed.
He leans towards Serpent (as you're making a point of walking between them). "Good job."
Your boy blinks several times. His eyebrows are shaved, but the small ridges above his eyes are raised in utter disbelief.
The Lord of Wrath smirks to himself. "You would have made a fine priest of Vengeance, Mathers."
"Only my mother called me that." It's clear that Serpent is completely emotionally overwhelmed. He can barely say, "but the recognition is appreciated."
"Don't let it get to your head. I need you to know what an asset this information is not only to our mission, but to the future prosperity of our nation. You've done good work. Let's keep it that way."
The world is a whole lot softer, and you feel substantially better. There's still something a little off-kilter with your tone, though. Everything feels tender and warm. "You say that Chesty went underground. Do you have any idea where we can start looking for him?"
You have yet to dismiss either Mercy or Agriculture. Some of the internal injuries you suffered were extreme. It seems like you're just about back to normal, but it's difficult to say. Your fellow priest gives you a worried look, but doesn't interrupt while Serpent replies.
"I know where we can start." Your boy narrows his eyes at something on the horizon, placing a hand over his brow to shield his gaze from the sun. "The fuck?"
"Oh, no." Father Pevrel looks like he wants to run.
You hear the sound of galloping in the distance. Looking towards the source, you can just barely make out a speck of green. You're intimately attuned to the motions of the earth, and can tell just by the weight of the man that it's someone you've already fought before.
The name leaves you with a sigh. "Tybalt."
You and your company head towards the priest, meeting him about halfway through the woods. Smoke is once again thick in the air, as you've wandered much closer to the location of the prison.
As soon as Brother Townsend is close enough to discern, you nearly drop your jaw. He's riding atop a massive Shire horse, with a chestnut coat and powerful strides. His robes are singed, his face is covered in soot, and his hands are slaked in blood up to his elbows. It looks like he's been screaming or crying, judging by how red his eyes and how hoarse his throat is— but it could just be the smoke he's no doubt been inhaling.
"HEY! There you are—!"
In the young man's company are a total of three gallant horses. The second one that catches your eye is a jet black beauty, radiating intelligence and nobility. Its gait is smooth and elegant, though the name of the breed is horribly unfortunate. You recognize the Friesian horse in an instant, and presume that it's meant for Father Pevrel.
The remaining horse is a magnificent, golden beast. Even within smoky woods and beneath an overcast sky, its coat is a healthy, glowing sheen. A sturdy neck, stocky frame, and long legs makes it a natural fit for you.
Impetus— your glorious black stallion, housed back in Eadric— still greatly outclasses the prestige of any one of these working animals. He no doubt is infinitely faster, but this is still a tremendous improvement over walking anywhere.
The trouble is, there's now three horses and four of you— and Tybalt could not look more pissed.
"You found him, then!" The priest comes up beside you all, dismounts, and looks Serpent up and down. "The name's Tybalt. You can call me Brother Townsend, if you prefer!"
Serpent doesn't even reply. There's no discernible emotion on his face, but the way he became so instantly on his guard has your nerves on end.
Rather than deal with the awkwardness of Serpent disengaging from him entirely, Tybalt turns to you, ruffles around in his robe's breast pockets for a moment, and gets your seal out. You gladly take the small, gold item back in hand, and stash it in your satchel immediately.
You really love animals, and have to stop just for a second to slowly and carefully approach the gilded Shire. To your delight, he nuzzles the back of your hand as you approach him. "Thank you so much, Tybalt. He's beautiful."
"Don't thank me. You don't want to know how much it cost."
"It hasn't been more than an hour since we left the Church—" You look the priest over. He's not coughing, but he looks furious, and is still obviously injured from smoke inhalation. "What happened?"
"I made for the nearest farm I knew had livestock, and made them an offer they couldn't refuse." It's easy to forget how well-connected the young man is. He likely knew exactly where to go when you parted ways. Clearing his throat, Tybalt rubs a bit at his eyes. "I've been fighting the fire with the rest of my clergy. The entire building collapsed. There was a massive break— by the sound of it, twenty-five prisoners escaped or are unaccounted for. We're moving through the wreckage now, trying to get an accurate toll of the dead." His hands clench into fists by his sides. "Pet's on her way. We lost a Sister. Cateline Evelyn died in the collapse."
Father Pevrel gives Serpent the dirtiest glare he can muster, but stays quiet for your sake.
This is a name you've never heard before, but you can only assume it was someone close to Tybalt. The young priest is on the verge of tears. The chestnut shire horse behind him moves a little in place, picking up on the man's anxiety. You instinctively move to soothe the animal, but check yourself just for a second, given the incredibly human problem staring you in the face.
"We'll be holding a funeral service for Sister Evelyn tomorrow, AFTER all of the other dead and escaped are seen to!" Tybalt doesn't shove you, but looks like every inch of him wants to. "I hope you're happy. Are you going to drag me along on the rest of your MISSION or not? I'm needed in my city, Father. This errand you sent me on—" He gestures towards the horses. "—cost who knows how many lives?! Are you even going to be using these beasts in the city?! What were you THINKING?!"
He's so pissed, he doesn't seem to know what to do with himself for a moment.
Serpent says, "if you're done, there are still people out there who are counting on us to help them."
Tybalt bristles like a rabid dog. He knows that he can't say a damn thing, so he turns back to you. "Let me bring these horses back to the stables. Let me go take care of my people. You have the fucking leader of the Church of Vengeance with you, and the leader of the Church of Dream on standby. The fuck do you need my help for?" You can practically feel how tightly he's clenching his fists— trying not to hit you with everything he has.
"Haven't you ruined enough lives today?"
>Most of the following are not mutually exclusive. Feel free to choose as many prompts as you like.
>Be aware that Time is of the essence. Every action you take may take more Time away from Chesty.
>In the event of directly conflicting votes, majority vote will decide.
>A] You need to be decisive. This is not only a young man's life that you're toying with— this is a leader with many responsibilities.
>1] Have Tybalt return the horses to the Church of Agriculture's stables, and let him get on with his life. There are more important things in life than punishment and oaths. (Be advised that this could severely impact your relationship with Vengeance, and could hurt your relationship with Mercy.)
>2] Your word is your bond, you've been lax for long enough, and you want to keep Tybalt accountable for what's going on in Wearmoor right now. Have him come along with you. You'll figure out the horse situation later. (Feel free to also write-in any specifics you want to lay out for the terms of this, such as how you want to handle your extremely valuable new commodities, if Tybalt should be privy to sensitive information, etc.)
>B] HORSES
>1] Spend a few precious minutes with your new friend. Make sure that all of the horses are alright, up to your standards, and that their temperament is fine before moving on.
>2] They need names! Oh my gosh! (Feel free to write-in anything you please. Subject to QM approval.)
>C] You're so fucking relieved that Serpent is alive and well. He seriously seems like his old self. Time is precious, so you'll talk while you walk. (If Tybalt stays in the party, you're okay with him listening in. Be advised that you may not have Time to cover every subject here, so choose wisely!)
>1] You want to know more about The Freesia Society.
>2] You want to know more about your boy.
>3] You want to know more about what happened while Serpent and Chesty have been apart from you and the rest of the blasphemous congregation.
>D] Father Pevrel's antisocial behavior could still use a great deal of improvement.
>1] Politely commend him for the positive behavior he's exhibited towards Serpent.
>2] Reprimand him for being so abrasive and insist that he needs to tone down his attitude.
>3] Write-in.
>E] The amount of Time that Mercy and Agriculture have been invoked for is cause for concern. You really got messed up back there.
>1] Let the dual invocation persist for as long as your partners see fit.
>2] End the invocation with Agriculture. You can handle being a little out of sorts mentally, emotionally, and physically.
>3] End both invocations. You can take it.
>F] Things are getting a little more complicated, but it's nothing you can't handle. (It is a given that Serpent and Father Pevrel will fight tooth and nail to accompany you, but feel free to write-in any other way you'd like to approach the dynamics of your party before setting off after Chesty. Things you'd like to say, things you'd like to do, etc.)
Last edited:
