Chapter 9: Onus Scientiae
2nd of Benathus, 414 EC of the Fourth Rekindling
13:47
“My sincerest thanks for your contributions.“
The battlepriest nodded from his steed, to the two men in guardsmen uniform behind him. They followed on their stallions, looking apprehensive.
“Yeah…uh, we weren’t really trained or prepared for this.” Frode started, shrugging, “Sorry.”
“We’ll burn the rest of the bodies, then tell the kapten about this.” Eirik scratched the back of his head, “It’ll really help us if you people tell us what happened on your–”
Thunk!
The Automaton moved, puncturing the dirt with its legs and leaving visible holes. Wyatt was on it, clutching his coat against the cold. Not to be outdone, the priest turned towards the construct and spurred his steed.
“Move! Do not let it out of your sight!“
More than a dozen hooves moved in tandem, kicking up dust. Frode and Eirik were left behind on their inferior steeds, left to stare at one another.
“You think he got the message?” Eirik asked, fatigued.
“No, no he didn’t.”
Running alongside the automaton, the Solstinians kept their solar clock and their speed in mind. Their steeds, strength and stamina aside, were still beasts; fatigue was catching up with them. This was a race against time.
The troops could tell that their steeds were at their limits. They slowed down, heaving heavily. They weren’t fed and quenched properly, and only allowed mere moments of rest before being spurred on the run again. Clearly, they were suffering to keep up with the spider-like machine. They couldn’t keep this up for much longer, so the Solstinians did not falter, instead spurring them on as much as possible before they collapsed. They couldn’t risk losing sight of the construct, for they have no guarantee that it wouldn’t cover its tracks with magic.
The battlepriest was similarly pushed to his limit. He glowed under the cracks of his armor, rejuvenating his steed with every walk of the way to keep the beast running up front. Not just that, whenever one of his men looked as if he would fall behind, the priest would lean over, rejuvenating the soldier’s steed, then moved to another, and another, and another. His sheer stamina kept him upright, but his efforts weren’t in vain as the whole squad kept up with him towards their destination.
After struggling to keep up with the Automaton as it crawled over a hill, the Solstinians saw what they were looking for. They found it uninteresting at first, seemingly but a structure of smooth stone carved out of a mountain. The only signs of interest were the large door in front, the round dome and a few crumbling pillars. It was only after the four-legged construct had approached that the structure sprung back to life, shedding its shoddy disguise. Walls opened, retracted and showed the stone arches, perfect pillars and covered windows. It became polished to a sheen, light blared from the building’s top. It was like a mausoleum turned fort, eerie but awe-inspiring, beautiful but thorny.
The battlepriest stopped everyone as they reached the top of the hill.
“Prepare your weapons. Ready your wits.”
2nd of Benathus, 414 EC of the Fourth Rekindling
13:57
Both occupants waited for Wyatt’s return, as predicted by the Librarian. There was trepidation in the air as the Automaton climbed the stairs, its whirring echoed the tight corridors and signaled its return. It bent its knees, releasing its passenger from his seat.
Wyatt jumped off, with a healed leg now and walking just fine. Willem came up to him first, his tone filled with regret.
“…Wyatt. Are you…okay? You looked better than before…”
“Willem.”
From Wyatt’s tone alone, Willem knew to stand down. His friend stepped forth, his voice didn’t waver.
“Let’s get out of here.
“W… But you just got here… and it’s warm and everything…”
“Willem! It’s not safe here.”
That made Willem stumble back slightly. Meanwhile, the Librarian didn’t seem to catch on, perched on a high place overlooking the entrance like a bird of prey. He regarded Wyatt’s slightly disheveled state and rumbled.
“Neither is out there, patron. While I understand your concern about this place, I assure you there is no danger here. Stay, and I will find you comfort and shelter. There is no need to…”
But Wyatt backed away from him.
“… Be wary.”
The Librarian hunched his back, looking exhausted. It ascended to the ceiling again, watching without interfering.
“Please settle this amongst yourself, dear patrons. I will be here waiting. Please do not damage the structure.”
Gulping, Wyatt turned to Willem and grabbed his friend’s sleeve.
“I got us a chance for safety! Stop being so stubborn and listen to me!”
“Then get to the point!” Willem pulled his arm back. “What happened? Are you okay?”
“That doesn’t matter right now! Look, I made a deal with some people. They said we can go somewhere warm, with running water!”
Wyatt stepped closer, pulling back his hood to reveal his scowl, and the desperation in his eyes.
“Please.”
Willem wasn’t convinced. “…How?”
“How…? It doesn’t matter, just…”
“Wyatt. Explain. Now!“
Wyatt stood still, trying to comprehend his friend’s thoughts. He wanted to say something, and was in the process of picking out suitable vocabulary when footsteps echoed the stairways outside. Thunk, thunk, thunk… It was metal sabatons striking on stone steps.
“What’s that?” Willem stepped back into the library proper, his eyebrows furrowing, “Wyatt, what’s happening right now…”
A dainty feminine hand suddenly wrapped around Willem’s throat. The floor beneath him came to life, animated by lines of blazing flame. He saw footprints, scorched into the stone, and a pair of legs behind his back. The assailant whispered, a feminine and recklessly casual voice graced his ears.
“One move and I’ll pop you like a grape, boy.” The hand tightened, placing her thumb directly on his Adam’s apple. “Listen up, and listen good you hear?”
Willem couldn’t breathe, standing still like a terrified statue. Wyatt, somehow, looked even more startled than he did, frantically trying to dissuade the woman.
“Wait wait wait! That’s my friend! Don’t hurt him, please…”
Schwee looked curious, released Willem’s neck and scrutinized the two men. For a moment, she hummed and tapped around Willem’s body. He shuddered, both at her demeanor and her sunken eye sockets wrapped in bandage.
Soon, more footsteps arrived. An entourage of six poured in through the entrance, soiling the immaculate marble floor with mud and snow from their boots. They brandished their spear, which glowed ominously with orange, crackling with power. And of course, leading them was Felrick.
The priest moved with grace, despite his bulky clanging armor, each steps measured and deliberated. His cloak billowed behind him, animated by the freezing wind that blew from the outside. Willem gulped, scanning the man that was more than man for weapons on instinct, as if he wasn’t dangerous enough by himself. An empty scabbard on his side, and a second weapon hilt hidden behind his back. He held a curved sword, blade crackling more intensely than the spears of his men. With but three steps, he strode to the two men’s side, but addressed the woman instead.
“Miss Schwee. We were going to assess the situation.“
The pyromancer let go of her catch, smiling and skipping back to his side.
“Ah hah!~ My bad, my bad. I was trying to get some leverage. But now I don’t think that’s going to do us any good.”
“Quite astute.“
The Automaton loomed over all of them, its many lights focused like a limelight. The machine whirred, challenging the intruders to make a move. The soldiers responded in kind, brandishing their spears at it. Willem and Wyatt were frozen from fear, but Felrick and Schwee wasn’t.
“We are no brigands. Bring your master. We will negotiate.“
“Then I am here.”
The cold voice shook the soldiers to their core, driving them back to the staircase. The Librarian hovered above Felrick and Schwee, rattling the strings on his back. His metal body groaned, quite unpleasantly and upset about the interaction despite his monotone. The priest ushered his mage back, letting the machine descend and meet them face to face.
“I am a librarian. I care for this structure and maintain it as a font of knowledge.” He flicked his wing, and all the parchments and loose books on the floor floated like a vortex. They returned to their rightful place on the many shelves, and their master continued. “Pardon my tardiness, but there is no need for violence. These halls welcome all who wishes to study.”
Schwee immediately became enamored. If she still had eyes, they would be sparkling like a child in a toy store with the way she turned excitedly between the Librarian and the mountains of books behind him. Any scholar would drool over an archive of this magnitude. She could already imagine herself locked here for the rest of her life, just reading and researching to her heart’s content. Her only regret was that she came here on business.
“Miss Schwee?” The priest raised his voice, reminding her of their places.
Schwee forced herself back to reality, but her smile didn’t waver.
“Oh, this is it! The discovery of a lifetime! I can’t tell how old this place is…but it doesn’t matter! Third Rekindling, Second Rekindling, First, Golden Age…”
She tapped her foot and kicked up dust, becoming even more enamored with the structure. Nothing of her era could create such a masterpiece of architectural marvel.
“It’s far beyond us! The Church would want it as a prize… Hel no! I want it as my prize!”
“Miss Schwee. Do control yourself…“
Schwee looked disheartened. “Fine… fine. Do what you have to do.”
Felrick tightened his grip on the sword, challenging the construct. He held his fist up high, and the soldiers sprung to their feet. They looked hesitant, but his authority turned that into trust. They rushed past the two young men, brandishing their spears.
“By the decree of the Church of Sol, the nation of Solstice, and my authority as a face of Sol, I command you, ancient being. Surrender your authority over this structure and show us your arcane-related machinery. They are to be decommissioned.“
Felrick steeled himself. Not even a pace of this structure was free of arcane influences. Essence ran the ground, the shelves, and coursed through the Librarian. Suffocating, vile. He clenched his fist, as if crushing it with his will alone.
The Librarian hissed. “You will damage this structure, and put many of its functions out of order! It pains me to say, but your requests are denied, patron.”
Felrick fell silent, his form completely still. For the first time, resistance.
Wyatt, meanwhile, was terrified. He did not anticipate an all-out brawl, at least not to the scale in front of him. He tried to retreat, but Willem stepped up with his fists clenched. He panicked, grabbing his friend by the hood.
“What do you think you’re doing!? You’re gonna get hurt!”
“I will not stand here and let them bully the Librarian! He’s a good person, and he certainly isn’t a thing!” Willem’s voice was clear and resolute, as he yanked himself free. “These strangers can’t just do what they like.”
“But look at them! They have weapons and outnumber you… and did you forget what that woman did? Let’s get out of here before…”
Without even a smidgen of fear or hesitation, Willem brushed past and jumped into the confrontation. The idea of actually losing his friend this time held back Wyatt, as he pondered the possibility.
CRASH!
Felrick and the Librarian came to blow, weapon and claws clashing against each other. The priest was strong, inhumanly strong. His power completely overwhelmed the machine’s failing frame, sending him flying and snapping his metal joints and strings. His mangled body tumbled along the stone floor, sending shrapnel all around and leaving deep gashes on the marble. Shockwaves followed, blowing parchments and books away like a vortex. Felrick breathed hard, having to exert more strength than he anticipated. The weapon in his hand gleamed, and it wasn’t the sword that he came in here with, discarded on the floor beside him.
It was the hidden weapon, the “big stick” that he prepared with as per Schwee’s advice. Handle long as a polearm for leverage, comfortably gripped within his gauntleted hand. Its other end was a massive mace head, bulging out the middle with thinner ends. A holy symbol was grafted onto the weapon, a golden sun radiating with power. Lines of arcane runes ran along the weapon, pulsing with magic.
With a pained huff, the battlepriest stowed his massive mace with one hand, giving his order.
“Miss Schwee.“
On command, Schwee stomped her feet, igniting the air below her into a massive blast. Her body was sent flying upward, dainty long legs and flowing cloak set ablaze and leaving a cloud of dust behind her. As she reached the apex of her blast jump, the Automaton screeched its war cry and entered the fray. She made the motion of drawing a bow and arrow, setting a jet of flame between her hand. As the machine came underneath her, the mage set loose the fire arrow. It whizzed through the air, burning hotter and hotter as it flew and turning from orange to blue.
The projectile embedded itself into the four-legged machine directly on its domed head. Its searing heat bore through the metal and onto the floor. Molten slag dripped from the exit wound, and the machine came to a screeching halt, kneeling before the Battlepriest. After an agonizingly long second, it exploded into a big fireball, bright, loud and vicious.
The two young men couldn’t bear to look directly at it, cowering away from the brilliant display of violence. Smoke and dust covered the air, and by the time it cleared, they both had already breathed in the soot, coughing their lungs out painfully. Despite all that, the molten carcass of the machine before them still haunted their vision, its legs sprawled from the destroyed dome.
Schwee flipped herself upright, bursting jets of flame from her hands to slow her descend. The soldiers all fell back, giving her ample room to land dramatically, her legs outstretched to catch her weight, one hand on the ground for balance, and the other in the air. Rising back on her feet, the woman brushed the soot off the helm of her cloak, pouting.
“You didn’t let me prepare! I could’ve made it so much better! Give me a warning next time!”
“Well done still, Miss. Sir Coonbatch, take your men and…“
Felrick stopped mid-sentence, something just triggered his fighting instinct. He rushed in front of his men, picking up his blade and twirled it just in time to deflect some projectiles aimed at them. The impact made his hands shiver, shattered crystals rained down around his feet. The priest took a brief moment to observe those purple, hazy crystal darts, so fast yet subtle. Three precise shots aimed for his men, and would’ve been lethal had he not been there.
The soldiers, meanwhile, didn’t hesitate. They were scared, but also reassured of the Battlepriest’s presence. They began to mobilize again, forming a defensive position but were stopped before they were done.
“Retreat!” Felrick ordered, cautious and caring. “This entire structure is rigged!“
And just as he expected, the moment his men turned to fall back on his order, five loud Klinks echoed the enclosed room. The grand entrance shut tight, latches fell into place and trapped the intruders within. Hatches opened on the ceiling, and a whole squad of Automatons rained down upon the Solstinians. They screeched like boiling kettles, their war cry scraped the ears of every soldiers within the room. They charged at the intruders, battering them with their metal legs. Bodies began to fly, flung around by merciless machines desperate to protect their home.
Soldiers tried to rally, giving Schwee room to act. She conjured another flaming arrow and aimed it at one of the machines, but before she can unleash her power, a sharp pain dropped her to the floor. One of the crystal projectiles had embedded into her left shoulder, the puncture wound bled profusely. Her head start to spin, her legs buckle as strength sapped from her body. The pyromancer knew real pain for the first time.
The priest tried to reach for her, but more projectiles came at him from trickier and more dangerous angles. He swatted them away, muttering a prayer under his breath.
“And once, Sol said:
My children shall have no fear,
Because they are my shield, sword, and fire,
And so, they strike at the encroaching dark
With no hesitation, nor delay.“
He took a risk, freeing one hand from holding the sword hilt to draw the mace quickly, tearing off his cape. He raises the holy weapon above his head, letting its light shine bright and showing the holy symbol for all to see.
“Deus’ Scutum.“
Searing light burst forth, forming a wall of hard light in front of the priest. It extended from both sides, sapping his strength but providing cover for his men behind him. Projectiles shattered, falling to the ground against the barrier, but the priest was also grunting with efforts.
Soldiers immediately rallied, helping Schwee to her feet and putting her directly behind that barrier of safety. Some were injured, others dead, but the rest took cover behind their holy leader. The priest guided them into a corner of relative safety, dropping the barrier and joining his men behind cover. The projectiles, they weren’t homing and weren’t aimed at anybody. Perhaps he could exploit this and…
Felrick felt a hard punch to the gut, cursing himself for forgetting about these machines even for just a second. The four-legged constructs weren’t hampered by cover, they rounded the corner and started battering at the battlepriest, who was saved only by his armor not letting the pointed legs past. Felrick retaliated with his mace, snapping one of the machine’s legs but also taking a shot to his shoulder. Even one as experienced as him flinched at the impact, for the crystal bypassed his magical defense and cracked his left pauldron. His fear was immediately overshadowed by another barrage of attacks from the Automatons, and now the priest thought himself would break before the armor.
Still, he needed to buy time. For his men, and for the glory of Sol.
“Miss Schwee! Destroy this structure’s defenses at once! I will hold off the interlopers! This is an order!“
The pyromancer was bawling her eyes out, as a soldier ripped the crystal projectile off her shoulder. She grabbed the would and cauterized it, which made her cry louder.
“You’re the worst!”
Sniffling, Schwee yanked herself away from the soldiers like a child putting on a brave face. With tears still staining her face, she ignited her feet again, leaving fiery footprints and the embers that formerly was her cloak behind.
“Do not stand still! Or you’ll be a pincushion!”
She ushered for the soldiers to move, out of the kill cubby they were in. Moving targets were harder to shoot at, so as long as they moved, the crystal darts would have a hard time hitting them. With essence focused and flowing through her feet, Schwee shuddered at what she could detect with each step. Essence circulated the whole structure like a living being, not just through the Librarian earlier, but through the walls, the shelves, the books and these spider-like machines battering at them as well. Not to mention, she could feel more of them hanging above their heads, and blamed herself for not noticing them earlier. Perhaps it was appreciation for the knowledge, perhaps ego for thinking she was the smartest one in the room. Or perhaps she was just getting bad at her job.
“Miss!” Coonbatch shouted and pushed her out of the way of another crystal projectile. The soldiers rallied around her, defending her against all odds. Another trap was deployed against them, this time winged palm sized machines that disguised themselves as paper scraps stuck between the shelves around them. The soldiers fought, as they trusted her to make a decision and get them out alive. Coonbatch took front, shielding her from another wave of attack.
“Miss pyromancer, don’t you have a plan?”
“I’m not omniscient, Sir Coonbatch. But please understand, dying is always an option when you get involved with magic…”
The men groaned, but still shielded her and gave her space. The mage readied her spell again, drawing back the flaming projectile like a bow and arrow. She unleashed it, and reduced another Automaton to molten slag. Sheer heat from her spell made the paper swarm catch fire, dispersing them and giving the soldier some reprieve. Still, danger hadn’t pass, and Schwee urged the soldiers again.
“Don’t just stand there, move!”
They moved past Felrick, who was fighting off three of those Automatons at once. Their perception of one another crossed for a brief second, to confirm what they both had deduced about this structure. The flow of essence is strong here, and it was circulating through leylines like blood in its veins. And like a heart pumping blood, there was also something pumping the essence through this structure. Something beneath them, way lower than them…
Schwee hesitated. She could rip out that heart now that she had located it, but did she have the heart to do it? Maybe the structure would just cease to function, and she could scavenge what’s left for research. But maybe, it would collapse, and centuries of ancient knowledge would be lost. But with her men depending on her, Schwee found herself with no other options.
2nd of Benathus, 414 EC of the Fourth Rekindling
13:49
Wyatt reeled back from the battle, his back pressed against the now locked entrance. In front of him, Felrick was locked in mortal combat against the entire building. The priest drove back the automatons battering at him, but also took multiple blows from all of them at once. Slowly but surely, he began to thin the horde at great prices to his body, but this feat of inhuman strength and resilience made Wyatt stare in awe and fear.
Still, the young man cared not for the priest’s survival. One singular thought was in his head, and that was “where is Willem”. He felt like he lost sight of his friend forever ago since the battle broke out. Smoke and dust clouded his vision, making his search even harder than before. He wanted to find him, to fulfil their mutual dream of moving to the city, but he just couldn’t move. He cowered with his head in his hands, he was about to cry and break down. It was already a miracle that he survived till now, so would it be so bad if he just… sat down?
CRASH…
An automaton’s severed leg crashed next to him, snapping Wyatt out of the debilitated state. He scrambled to his feet, making a beeline towards the battlepriest. On his way, he stepped on all the bits of shrapnel, broken metal and shattered crystals. The air smelled strange, of oil, burnt metal and… sweetness. He didn’t pay attention to it, not when safety was so close.
“Felrick!”
The battlepriest jumped, hastily drove back another automaton. Freed from his battle mindset for a moment, Felrick was struck by fear at how much he was shaking. Still, he steeled himself, for the sake of his men and this mere child coming towards him.
“Get to safety! Or flee if you can! NOW!”
“I can’t do that! I want to help and…”
Wyatt’s legs kept moving, but Felrick’s arms were faster. He quickly grabbed the young man by the collar, yanking him off his feet.
“You will do no such thing. You are but a…”
He heard something coming, and immediately turned to shield Wyatt with his body. Multiple shots hit the priest in the back, cracking more of his armor and making him groan in pain. His fist clenched tightly around Wyatt’s collar, showing clear frustration and animosity towards this young man he just risked his life to protect. More clinks rang out around him, and another deployment of automatons landed around him. They raised their spiked legs, ready to batter the priest and finish what their brethren had started. Felrick turned, ready to take a few more hits… yet none came.
The battle priest paused, and saw Wyatt standing between him and the machines. They shone their lights on the young man, but did not move and instead stopped dead in their tracks. It was as hard to believe as it could be, but as a soldier he wasn’t going to question his luck. Felrick rose to his full height, battered and bleeding but still full of power and determination.
“…Young man. Prepare yourself. For the time being, you shall be my shield.“
“…WHAT!?”
2nd of Benathus, 414 EC of the Fourth Rekindling
13:50
In the midst of battle, Willem had snuck into the labyrinth of bookshelves. He moved faster than he thought he could, his mind racked with what to do. He knew he needed to stop this insanity, to get them to sit down and negotiate! But tried as he might, he couldn’t find a solution. As he ran, scraps of paper turned into machines. They fluttered off the shelves and joined the fray behind him.
Despite its complicated paths and cramped space, the labyrinth seemed like it was guiding the young man. It lead Willem to a gap between the shelves, just wide enough for him to pass. He bolted down that path, catching glimpses of automatons falling around him by the priest’s hands.
The magic of the structure seemed to give him view of everything that went on while he ran down this path. He saw soldiers defending the woman who grabbed him by the throat before. As chaos continued around her, somehow she kept her composure for long enough to complete a sigil circle on the floor, inlaid with bunches of sweet-smelling materials and showered in oil. Even as inept at magic as he was, Willem recognized what she was doing, and charged at the woman’s direction.
“WAIT…”
But he was too late. Schwee stomped on the sigil circle, didn’t register the young man’s plea. She broke through the stone floor, revealing what she was looking for underneath hers and Willem’s feet. The bandage on her eyes burned away, revealing flickering embers in place of eyeballs inside her sockets.
“Oh by Sol… You’re even more beautiful than I imagined…”
She was in awe at the sphere sitting at the bottom of the hole that she just forcefully excavated. It shifted and turned; segments rotated like gears in chaotic yet strangely cyclic fashion. Wires and ropes connected to it, spreading all around like veins from a beating heart. Now exposed, the sphere glowed with a bright white light.
Flame burst from Schwee’s soles and palms, letting her hover and loat down next to the sphere. Under her breath, she muttered to herself. “Well well… Golden Age magic… First Rekindling at the latest…”
The machine seemed to have detected the breach, yet powerless to stop the intruder. It could only plead with the cold yet wavering voice of the Librarian.
“Please… This structure, this knowledge. It can help so many people. I beg of you…”
“I’m sorry…” Schwee sniffled, raising her hand and calling forth sparks from her fingertips. “I really do…”
BANG!
2nd of Benathus, 414 EC of the Fourth Rekindling
13:52
Felrick felt so close to death. He was at his limit, and the young man shielding him only helped marginally. The machines were tricky; they knew how to use sneaky tactics and curve their attacks to strike at him while leaving Wyatt unharmed. His muscles ached, his will to live began to shake. Hits from these automatons weren’t enough to go through his cracked armor, and he got used to deflecting the crystals that could, but his ribs were broken, his spine felt like it was snapped in half. The glow of his magic began to dim, his essence flowing in double time to fix his body but he wished for extensive care.
He and Wyatt drove back the four-legged machines one after another, but sooner or later he would slip up and be skewered. He was prepareed to lay down his life for the Church, but when the moment came he still found it extremely unpleasant.
The priest gripped his mace and tried to raise it, anticipating another attack. But it never came. The automatons already had their legs in the air, ready to strike, yet they stopped dead in their tracks. The lights on them shut off, they made no more sound. One by one, they collapsed to the ground, leaving Felrick confused and refusing to believe his luck. He was about to do a double tap, raising his mace to smash one of the inert machines to bits, but a feminine cheer stopped him.
“I did it! It’s done, fights over!”
Felrick couldn’t help but let out a weak chuckle, never thought that he would be glad to hear Schwee’s shrill cheers. He set Wyatt aside and was about to greet his pyromancer but immediately recoiled when he saw that she had removed her blindfold and he could see her eye sockets. Unbothered, the woman hovered towards him, landing on bare feet next to the priest. He tried his best not to stare, keeping his voice as calm as he could.
“What did you do?“
“It had a core down there, in the middle of the structure. I exploded it of course. But look at that!” She pointed around herself. “What a mess! Lucky us, this place wasn’t in full power.”
“And the men?“
“Dealing with a certain interloper. Young people are really hard to work with.”
Felrick looked and saw Willem being escorted by Solstinian soldiers. He refused to budge or move faster, keeping his head hung low towards the ruined marble floor. The priest sighed, reminded of something as he turned to Wyatt, with a tinge more respect than before. The young man was sacred to say the least, stuttering.
“O– Yes…I mean, I–”
“You have done a good deed to Sol, and have made yourself exemplary. Young man…no, Wyatt, you should be rewarded properly.“
“Uhm…okay?”
“Per your request, you shall be transferred back to Solstice’s lands–“
“Father!”
A soldier suddenly warned, and Felrick turned around to grab Willem by the neck. The man had tried to lunge at the priest with his icebreaker knife, stabbing fruitlessly at the armor plates. His eyes were wild, his life forfeited. Felrick dropped his mace to examine this brave fool, stopping Schwee with her fire spell ready.
“What is the meaning of this treachery?“
“Murderer! You killed them! How could you…how could you do this!?”
“Wait, wait!” Wyatt shouted, grasping at Felrick’s arm, “Please, stop! Let him go!”
The battlepriest did not budge, instead sneered and brought his arm back, with the sword in his hand.
“…Depravity.“
Blood spilled around the priest’s black blade, flesh smoked and burned. The air was thick of foul odor, overwhelming and sickening. Felrick settled the lifeless body to his side. One stab to the heart was all it took, and Willem’s life bled from his body. The last thing this man deserved was some respect, as the battlepriest was still one of the clergies. Perhaps he went too far, but so the Church decreed.
“…Forgive me.“
But the attempts on his life weren’t over just yet. Now it was Wyatt’s turn to lunge at the priest, his expressions as wild and violent as his now departed friend. The priest wasn’t ready for this attack, while the young man took advantage of the wide opening. He clambered up Felrick’s armor, reaching the battlepriest’s face with a weapon drawn…
Felrick felt a shark pain in the left eye, and his vision turned black. He felt his flesh searing and boiling from his face, from where Wyatt had stabbed him with the black wand. He managed to throw the young man off, and soldiers surrounded him with weapons drawn. Schwee stepped forward, the fire in her eyes flared into fury. She was about to add another name to their death report, but Felrick shouted his command through the pain.
“That child will not be harmed.“
They all stopped, stunned by his decision. Felrick got to his knees, hugging the bleeding eye socket. His hand glowed, cauterizing the wound. His voice ragged, but as commanding as ever.
“Cuff him, restrain him, but do not harm him. He shall face judgement at the capital.“
Schwee wanted to protest, fury of vengeance and worry stained her expression. Still, she backed down, taking a spare strip of cloth and reapplied her blindfold.
“The Church will not show you mercy… Felrick.”
“Then it’s a small price to pay.”
Felrick spoke, unmoving in his conviction. Wyatt was brought before him in chains, and there was a hint of empathy from the priest. Still, he turned away, as this was no time for reconciliation, even if he understood the young man’s plight.
“On your steeds.“
