Vult's eyes widen momentarily, and his nostrils flare.

"Then you have learned an error."

And without slowing down, he shifts into another flurry of savage swipes Maia is hard pressed to elude.

For her part, the mercenary princess shows some signs of the price she pays for her energetic movements, her fit figure slick with sweat. Yet, she shows no signs of slowing down.

Can she keep up?

She must. She can. She can do it.

She can do it.

"Maia..." You mutter. Then, again, more loudly - "Maia, you can do it!"

She knows better than to get distracted and look your way, but you can tell she both heard and appreciated your outburst by the way her serious mask of an expression cracked ever so slightly towards the confident smile you saw her flash once or twice.

Help her, Laurentia - you think to your companion. Perhaps what was your first prayer since you left your parents' home, in a manner of speaking.

I'm already on it, She assures you. But most of it rests on her. The pressure is immense, and I can't command the light that we share as I can my own. I can only hope she has found it as well... no, I'm sure she has. Look!

Indeed it seemed the princess was fighting with a bit more spright now, able to trade some probing attacks with the enemy general.

"The only error here is you, Vult, thinking you're in charge." She barks at her opponent between manoeuvres. "But you know that, don't you? You told me, you fight for freedom, once. Do you feel free... now?"

Vult's face struggled to keep a stony expression, and interestingly enough you suspect if it was up to the enemy leader alone, he would be more successful in it. The dark aura flared around the giant of a man and his fighting style eroded away from technique and further into savagery, as the man was gradually overtaken by the beast.

It is afraid.

Normally, that would be a good thing, you realize, as it was more likely for the man to make mistakes and create openings in his current stance. Unfortunately, the enhanced strength and bottomless wellspring of endurance the Beast had bestowed upon his puppet more than made up for those shortcomings of technique.

And Maia... her heart was eager, but her flesh and sinew were reaching its limits. Forced again to more desperately dodge and deflect, she was unable to capitalize on any weak spots she might have seen.

"The only true freedom is in imposing your will on the weak." Vult's lips made sound, but his eyes were empty, staring past the woman who loved him, and past the dark veil surrounding the impromptu dueling grounds.

With three steps taken in rapid succession, neglecting his guard, the mercenary lord advanced upon the princess and with a powerful, brutal slash she only barely rose her own blade to parry, knocked the weapon free from her hand, the momentum strong enough to send her tumbling to the ground. With another stride he was on top of her, sword raised to deliver the killing blow...

You were about to burst into action, but once again, something stopped you. Perhaps a premonition. Perhaps instinct. Perhaps you sensed somehow what was going to happen.

"Pathetic." Vult says. "You fought well enough for me to grant you a swift end. But before I do, do you at least now regret your foolishness?"

Maia was looking up at him with a mix of defiance and sadness.

"Even if I die here, I will not regret fighting for you."

Vult smirks. It's a horrid sight, with his eyes still empty, wrapped in the sort of ethereal darkness you're not sure mortal senses could perceive. Why aren't you moving?

"Foolish. At least you've learned your place-" The dark greatsword rises. Why aren't you leaping forward to intercept it? The sword falls, and you watch -

"Never." The words come softly, yet still somehow manage to obscure the shift of air as the mercenary princess springs into action, drawing her second sword. "-gonna give you up."

You're not sure how you were able to make out the words at all between the bright flash, shower of sparks and a whine of tortured metal when steel meets steel, and light and darkness collide.

"Never gonna let you down."

Maia was standing, almost nonchalantly. Her hair a bit tussled, but her eyes bright with hope as she stared, leaning back slightly, at the man she loved, or what he had become.

Vult, for his part, stood still, staring incredulously at the stump of the greatsword in his hand, dark fragments of the blade scattered on the ground around the three of you.

There's a moment of stillness, of peace, as a single ray of light pierces the darkness somewhere midpoint between Maia and Vult.

"It's over." the redheaded tomboy announces. "Leave him. Give him back to me. You lost."

It's then that you realize why you were not moving. Because somehow, either you or Laurentia, must have felt it.

That things are going to get better.

Vult's gaze slowly rises and he meets Maia's amber eyes.

And then he starts to laugh.

And then things get worse.

There's something intrisincally revolting about the sound. There is no mirth in it, no joy, no smile, no emotion other than pure malice distorted by a sense of absurdity thick enough to locally distort the light and air alike. It's a perversion of laughter.

The shadows ooze out of Vult's eyes, ears and mouth, and rises from around his feet, enveloping him in a shifting, eye watering spectacle as the statuesque body that was likely appealing to the man's ego is obscured by a roiling fluid of pure darkness.

"Over?" the words seem to originate not as much from the creature as from the shadows around you all. "Ignorant bitch, it hasn't even begun."

Maia takes a step back and brings herself back into defensive stance - for all the good that it does her as the creature nonchalantly swipes its arm in her direction. Your confusion at what seems like a gesture gives way to horror as the limb extends grotesquely, smacking the surprised girl from side, lifting her into air and sending her tumbling on the ground where she remains lying, motionless.

"Maia!" You shout and prepare to run to her side.

Don't worry, I've got her! Focus on the enemy! Laurentia urges you to trust her.

And you do. Enough that you barely have to suppress any reluctance as you turn your attention fully at the aberration before you.

You can make out only barest reminiscence of Vult underneath the layer of materialized darkness as it stands to regard you back. Lazily it flicks its wrist, and the shadows coalesce around and out of the hilt of the shattered weapon, extending into a form of shadowy blade, perhaps even serrated, you're not entirely sure as the shape is only a degree deeper than the ambient darkness swirling around the man-shaped puppet.

It makes no immediate effort to advance, but the palpable enmity you feel pouring out of its black, oily eyes, convinces you that it is not going to wait long to make its move.

The only question is, what choice of action do You have?

>There's only one thing to do, here. This is what you came here for. Attack.
>Fools rush in. Take defensive stance and wait for the enemy move.
>Maia seemed to have gotten through to Vult to some extent. You were not the girl who loved him, but perhaps you could still find a way to reach out to the man whose body Beast was using?
>Taunt the Beast. It seemed to not be above such petty emotions after all.
>other idea

>rick rolled
That was like a fucking FLASHBANG, goddamn

>>6055164
>Taunt the Beast. It seemed to not be above such petty emotions after all.
Do we not get some banter with our fated foe before fighting to the death?

>>6055164
>Taunt the Beast. It seemed to not be above such petty emotions after all.
just for the hell of it

>>6055164
>Maia seemed to have gotten through to Vult to some extent. You were not the girl who loved him, but perhaps you could still find a way to reach out to the man whose body Beast was using?
>”Vult, do you see the truth now? You have not seized the power of the Beast, but overtaken and twisted by it.”

waiting warmly

This was it. The realization emerged, as if it was always there against back of your mind. Even though you certainly couldn't, or wouldn't, imagine the confrontation to take this particular form.

And although ever since you learned of Vult, the mercenary general, to be the focal point of Beast's power, as you looked across at the husk of the man, you had to admit to yourself feeling a measure of pity for the man.

Perhaps some of it was even yours, and not just expression of Laurentia's divine compassion.

Be that as it may, it was clear you are not facing the mercenary general right now. No, right now you had upon yourself your true enemy's undivided attention.

And considering what you've seen of him, or it, so far, perhaps there was a way to use that to your advantage.

"How it feels, for a creature obsessed with strength, to have been spurned by something that cannot be taken by force?"

It may have been a bit long-winded, to the point where you wondered if the creature attacks you before you finish. But whatever its reasons, it waited for your question to conclude.

Perhaps it simply wanted to be angry.

Aberrant worm. It's almost laughable how many times over wrong you are. Its face(?) contorted even further into a mask of rage and it threw itself against you.

As it charged forward, against your braced posture and raised weapon, its form seemed to grow beyond what seemed proper for an approaching man as it if drew in the shadows from around you to engorge itself.

At least that's about as much as you could theorize in the fraction of second between it charged forth and the moment when it entered into melee range, brazenly walking into your weapon.

Interestingly, as it passed through a certain threshold, blazing halo surrounded him, burning the roiling shadows away and giving Vult/thing's visage a new quality.

Nonetheless, the grimace of pain Vult bore as he bore down on you was not particularly reassuring, if certainly not in the way his dark overlord had intended.

"Is that so?" You ask, as your weapon meets that of the mercenary lord - although the shadows around his "regrown" blade have been scattered, the weapon itself seemed tangible enough. "Then why is your most powerful agent reduced to role of a flesh puppet?"

Attacks were savage, relatively fast, and almost free of any finesse. Perhaps under different circumstances that would have been enough - brute force, after all, is a quality of its own. For now, though, you find yourself light on your feet, capable of deflecting and dancing among the blows, with ease sufficient that you find breath enough to continue poking at the spectral dog in possession of a human man. "Are you perhaps worried that if allowed the choice, he would make the correct one and turn on you?"

First response is another savage flurry of swings that you somehow manage to block or deflect with your weapon - and although you can tell the colossal momentum behind each of them, somehow you are able to withstand the pressure and not even your own mace seems worse for the wear despite both apparent solidity of the sword and its ominous background.

Of course, the enemy is not one to give up easily, and judging by the malicious oozing of shadows - what kind of mental image is that, even? Perhaps that the pulsating wisps and tendrils seemed particularly spiky and agitated in your direction? - the enemy creature may not have been even able to consider anything else but pressing its attack.

As if to emphasize that notion, and punctuate its tireless barrage, the thing picked up its voice again. Intrusive anomaly, you will eat those words, along with notion that you could mock me.

There's another throb in the backdrop of blackness surrounding you, but nothing seems to come out of it, save for perhaps some frustration that lingers in the followup rant of your adversary.

Your defiance of natural order - of MY order - will end here, and you will kneel and whimper at my feet, regretting you didn't take my offer when you had the chance.

"Funny you would bring that up." You say, sensing an opening in a rather specific sense. "Is that something you had shared with the man you now wield as a glove? That you were ready to take your boons away just like you would do with the dark queen?"

Somewhere during your speech, there was a subtle change that you almost missed, but situational awareness was something your father had already drilled into you in your childhood. The background noise that carried from distance, difficult to distinguish sounds of battle, noise, and - perhaps that was a bit of a wishful thinking on your part - Smutkin's battle tunes, all of this background against which impacts and footfalls of your duel took place, all of it fell perfectly still.

All of it, but the sounds of your fight... and your voice.

Silence! Shut up! SHUT UP!

Apparently, that did not go as planned.

On impulse, you pursued the point.

"That the force he had relied on was ready to betray him at drop of a hat, while the woman who loved him kept him close to her heart even as she learned of his misdeeds and ill intents?"

The figure of your enemy wavered momentarily.

That just goes to show what the true nature of strength is - and the extent of his dominion.

The voice glowered, but the mercenary lord's movements, although picking up pace again, grew even more mechanical than before, like a true puppet on strings.

There was another out of place sound, but you had difficulty interpreting it. It had nothing to do with combat. It was just something small, ephemeral, glittering, striking pavement between one step another, between one swing of the blade and the next.

Could it be? Was there something left of a person in that swirling vortex of darkness?

You wanted to believe. Laurentia wanted to believe. You felt quite certain Maia also wanted to believe, and you were virtually sure that so would Celestine were she here with you.

It did you well to consider such an option, and perhaps in accordance with this your movement seemed even lighter and more natural as you continued to repulse Vult-shaped creature's increasingly desperate assault. Even though both yourself and your spiritual companion were aware this, too, could be a ploy, you both derived vim from the chance that it was not.

And the Beast seemed to realize that.

You seem smug for someone who claims to derive strength from memory of his violated mother, and the impotent cuckold you call your father.

Failing to find a physical vulnerability in the sphere of light surrounding you, the enemy made an attempt to stab your own heart by a different means.

You felt a wave of indignant rage erupt and wash over you, and fall upon your adversary like a sledgehammer blow.

A shower of luminous sparks momentarily obstructed your vision, where the torrent of warm light turned searing hot struck into the shadowy form... only to slide off with little effect, the shadowy aura surrounding Vult's form flaring up, if such a turn of phrase could be used for turning even dimmer shade of black.

There was a guttural sound of laughter, though you could tell none of it came from Vult himself.

Pathethic.

Eep! You sense Laurentia convey. Sorry, I've lost my composure for a moment.

There's a brief moment of stillness, and then the ambience cycles through a few shades of pitch blackness... and that's all it does.

Your opponent blinks.

The anger was not yours. You have long since made peace with the idea that no foreign malice had power to spoil the gift of love you had treasured and that had kept you sane up until this moment.

If anything, you felt yourself at risk of beginning to pity the enemy for thinking otherwise.

"Please, refrain from upsetting my friend." You growl - and advance.

Suddenly, the enemy was on the backfoot. There was no more banter, just echoes of the dark blade twitching to intercept your careful, deliberate swings.

You realized that it was unlikely Beast was truly on its last legs, and rather was trying to come up with some new way of turning the fight in its favour - after all, you couldn't be even sure your striking down Vult would truly mean your victory here. A victory, perhaps. But to truly succeed in what you set out to? That seemed too... simple.

Then again, sometimes simple solutions just work.

Still, something told you, you'd have to do more than simply strike down the man-shaped thing currently retreating before you.

But first things first. Vult has not yet been beaten, and even the man himself may yet surprise you... one way, or another.

>Reach out to Vult for one last time. You can do that much for him... and for Maia. And perhaps...
>Don't drag it out. This has gone on long enough, it's time to end it.
>Address the enemy directly (saying / asking what?)
>other idea


>>6058804
I appreciate you doing so, friends.

>>6059134
>Reach out to Vult for one last time. You can do that much for him... and for Maia. And perhaps...
if the beast had to resort to insults, we can still do something about it.
also no problems, OP

>>6059134
>Reach out to Vult for one last time. You can do that much for him... and for Maia. And perhaps...

>>6059134
>Address the enemy directly (saying / asking what?)
>Taunt him some more, give him something to think about. "Have I not been truly becoming of my nature, turning on my metaphysical ancestor? If anything, you should be proud of this turn of events, I'm taking the world from you. No matter how long it is you've been avoiding your fate, it was purely arrogance that made you think you were actually exempt."
>"After all, Eternity is just infinite opportunities for anything to happen. You think killing me will help? What is known can't be unknown... You will remember, while you revel in violence you'll look over your shoulder fearing this power you cannot understand, your sick enjoyment now Tainted by it. I assure you, whatever twisted peace you felt with carefree impunity... Will never return." Whittle down his will. Even if it isn't true, as long as he believes it, you'll have won.
>"Destroy all Hope at your own peril, of course. You may call it bait, an illusion to break the will of the weak in glee, but I've seen the real, practical need you have for it. Because for a slave without hope, their only solace... is Death." Interpret this however you want. That being said...
>Reach out to Vult for one last time. You can do that much for him... and for Maia. And perhaps...
>"Vult, if you can hear me... I know what it's like to be powerless, and I assure you, you can come back from that. There are people who'll lift you up when you got nothing, no matter who you are. You said you wanted to change the world and I believe we can do that right now, if you'll let us. Just Believe."

>>6059134
>Reach out to Vult for one last time. You can do that much for him... and for Maia. And perhaps...

>>6059134
>Don't drag it out. This has gone on long enough, it's time to end it.

There is only one path for you to take. This moment of uncertainty might be your best shot to take out Beast’s principal – or perhaps only formerly so, considering circumstances – pawn in the material world.

It would be a sensible thing to do.

In a way it might even be seen as an act of kindness and mercy.

Laurentia recoiled slightly at that line of thinking, although you don’t think she’d begrudge you had you pursued it.

Had you…

Indeed, you do not. Hope is something you’ve been carefully sheltering, and love – in this case, Maia’s love for her former hero, accompanied you to this point.

How could you defy that?

“Vult, you now know the creature you serve is not one of strength, but of treachery, murder and deceit.”

You could, and would, defy something else instead.

That’s what you were there for, after all.

Insolent beast, what do you know of the nature of strength? You who have been wielding violence and deceit in pursuit of your own goals.

That was not an accusation you had expected to hear. Of course, it was not worth responding to the Beast’s taunts, but you still found yourself wondering whether enemy’s words were indicative of his misunderstanding you, or simply something Vult was meant to hear.

Regardless, you had something more important to tell the shadowbound man.

“I do not presume to know how you came to serve it, and only you alone can answer to yourself where and what your intentions had lied.” You speak, without easing the pressure of your attacks, which fortunately so far the enemy was unable, or unwilling, to reverse. “I do suspect that you understand that the one person you should never seek to deceive is yourself. That is why I even offer to you those words.”

Words mean nothing. They are but flickering shadows on surface of primordial strength.

“If that is so, then how are we even having this exchange?” You shout at the darkness. “Is that alone not proof that either your claims, or your very substance, is a lie?”

There is no verbal reply, just silent seething – and an awkward attack from Vult’s sword. You focus back on the man.

“Vult, it was in fact one of your own men,” “...who said in my presence a surprisingly profound truth.”

There’s a lackluster lunge from the mercenary that you bat aside. Either the mercenary lord is putting up some resistance already, or the Beast itself is waiting for what you bring up so that he can twist it in his favour.

“...that it is never too late to make a choice, as long as you still draw breath.”

How trite. All three of us know what a hollow platitude that is. The beast sneers back. Nobody can bring back the dead. Nobody can return “purity” and “innocence” to those once ravaged. When you commit to the path of primordial truth, there is no returning to the bubble of ignorant prattle the weak build around themselves.

“Flesh may be fleeting, but the Word is eternal.” You turn the creature’s own taunts against it. “And purity is not determined by what someone suffers, but what they do.”

Having rebutted the malevolent voice you switch back to Vult. “You have talked and fought Maia, and you’ve looked in her eyes.” You tell the man. “You saw her fight not you, but for you. The only question that remains to be asked is to be answered by you.”

You quietly collect your strength, and in two powerful strides deliberately removed from the pattern of your defense, close the distance between the two of you, catching Vult’s borderline reluctant guard with your weapon and pushing his aside.

“What will your answer be?” You ask in a calm tone that surprises even yourself.

For a moment you stand there, your weapons and gazes locked into each other’s.

And again, you’re not sure whether it’s your wishful thinking, or some supernatural sense, perhaps both shared with Laurentia, but you are almost certain that you saw a glint of acknowledgment from the the dark eyes behind the swirling sheen of roiling shadows.

The moment passed, and with an inarticulate roar – you’re not honestly entirely sure whose – the two of you withdraw from the momentary deadlock, and you warily eyed your opponent for his next move.

You’ve done, in likelihood, all you could, when it came to Vult, the man. The rest would be up to him. You were not vain enough to think your oratory skills would be enough to convince him, but if there was a flicker of hope that whatever you managed to convey would give him that final prod… then you would be satisified.

And something seemed to be happening alright. Instead of resuming his routine of corrupted mechanical onslaught, Vult’s stance shifts and straightens up, perhaps as if he was going to address his men.

Then the screaming starts.

It’s a torturous sound, enough to unsettle you as you take a step back. It begins with a man’s voice, though you wouldn’t have recognized it as Vult’s, at least not based on the voice you heard him use earlier. But it seems to be a genuinely human voice, a cry of pain, loathing, regret, with a dash of laughter at the absurdity of it all.

And in the background, intertwined with that voice, was the deep, guttural rumble of a malevolent entity finding itself ripped, shredded and torn against its will.

The aura of blackness shuddered, throbbed with several shades of absolute blackness, then abruptly ceased its flow you didn’t even realize was still there, solidifying into an immaterial man-shaped bubble -

- and like a bubble it popped, dissipating into the ambience in thin, frayed strands of darkness evacuating the now once again clear and revealed form of the mercenary lord. You note that once again, with the shadows fleeing, true form of the man was revealed, and you had to admit that even without Beast’s augmentations the mercenary general cut an impressive figure.

Or at least he would have, had he not – in absence of the tenebrous entity micromanaging his every muscle – collapsed into a motionless bundle on the ground, his expression an odd mixture of pain and peace.

The duel was over.

And it seemed that neither you nor Vult had lost.

In this brief moment of respite it felt like someone someone exhaled a sigh of relief. Whether it was you, Laurentia, one of your companions, you couldn’t tell. You couldn’t even rule out the sensation having come from the fallen mercenary. In any case, you allowed yourself the luxury as well, allowing yourself this short instant of peace.

Whether it was a hazardous lapse in vigilance, or a well used momentary lull, the moment passed too soon, and abruptly, with an overwhelming sound of silence, followed by a pulse of darkness shrouding the scene, taking away your view of Vult’s motionless body, the indistinct skyline and even the pavement below your feet.

There’s a moment of vertigo as you momentarily lose certainty of solid ground below your feet, and as you begin to contemplate what’s going on, the sensation vanishes and stillness returns.

Before you begin to formulate your choice of how to respond to this situation, the silence is broken by a clapping sound. Then, another. It’s a slow clapping, one Smutkin at some point told you can be a mockery of an applause.

Colour me impressed, aberrant.. The voice comes back, this time without even pretending to come from mouth of a possessed man. It is not often I am robbed of someone who gives himself to me willingly. I will admit that your way of wielding words is formidable.

“You still don’t understand.” You say as you process the insinuation that you were manipulating Vult to remove him from the fight.

Don’t waste your breath trying this on me. Comes a reply. You will not find me so easy to fool. However, in recognition of your very particular strength, I’m willing to extend my offer to you one more time.

“The answer is still-” You don’t even have to think about this.

Before you say something you’ll very briefly regret, consider this. All your efforts are in vain. You may have prevailed in your egg measuring contest, but your self imposed mission is a hopeless failure. My minions are already harvesting their due among those you’ve set out to protect.

The blackness recedes slightly, and shapes emerge from it. Shapes teeming and numerous, shapes packed thick against each other and engrossed in motion.

Energetic, organic, primal motion.

There are familiar images among the shapes. Familiar faces, even. Shown in painstaking, lifelike detail, to the point where you can see, if not colour of their eyes, then at least their gaze and expression they convey.

Dozens of empty, dead stares look past you from all around. Sometimes multiples of the same person, as the image is helpfully projected from multiple angles so that you are truly able to appreciate just what the Beast had in store for your friends.

No. No! You hear a whimper in your mind. This cannot – must not – be true. This is an illusion. A lie. But… it feels so real. It feels just like… Mmmh… the visions...

Your spiritual companion is struggling to reconcile what is shown to you with her own senses.

Was this what the Beast was showing to Celestine when she was trying to use her powers to help you?

You feel your fist clench around grip of your weapon. You could not deny, that your ogre instincts push against your conscious thought, in a mixture of emotions.

But those paled at the indignance you felt when you watched the eyes that you remembered smiling with life and joy degraded into hollow stares.

This would end.

The only question left was, how exactly this end would be brought about.

>Argue with the Beast, mock it to come out and fight you.
>Reach out to one of the illusions. You can save them. You can fix them. It seemed to have worked with Laurentia at least.
>This seems like it’s specifically made to get a rise out of you. Meditate.
>other idea

>>6063289
>>Argue with the Beast, mock it to come out and fight you.

>>6063289
>This seems like it’s specifically made to get a rise out of you. Meditate.

>>6063289
>This seems like it’s specifically made to get a rise out of you. Meditate.

>My minions are already harvesting their due among those you’ve set out to protect.
Ah, yes, surely the being that uses deceit and despair as weapons must be showing us the truth.

>>6063289
>This seems like it’s specifically made to get a rise out of you. Meditate.

Your first instinct was one of anger. Well perhaps there were other ones, but those were dismissed easily enough, somehow.

The Beast would pay for this cruelty.

Perhaps you could rile it up further, have it break itself against that indomitable spark of light that has been your refuge all this time?

…

Still… something felt – not as much wrong, as rather not quite right. Although you didn’t now have any doubts that the Beast had no ways of attacking you directly. That much was clear from how it was falling back to attempts to break your spirit instead. Perhaps under these circumstances, trying to get it to make a mistake by provoking it further could be a viable tactic.

But perhaps this was time for something more than just tactics.

You swallow your anger, and push Beast’s prodding away from your focus. There was a more worthwhile effort for you to commit to.

Think, ogre, think about what you were meant to do, what you were meant to become. You need not just watch, you can take… control. The enemy seemed not interpret your silence as sign of doubt or hesitation. You can make it yours. Those companions of yours could even share in your triumph, if and for as long as you choose to allow -

The speech is thankfully cut short as you readily – more easily than you’d anticipated given the circumstances – slip into a now relatively familiar trance.

As you take in your surroundings, you are met with a sight both familiar and alien. Familiar, as you found yourself inside an island of light surrounded by blackness. Familiar, because the ground was littered with occasional shrub or a flower poking out of the tenebrous ground. Familiar, because Laurentia was there with you.

The radiant goddess already took a form that was departing from what you were used to. In place of a tender, delicate figure that defied darkness with its existence stood a confident warrior clad in armour of light, with a radiant blade held in her hand as she acknowledged your presence.

The other alien aspect, somewhat unnervingly so, was the ambient darkness outside your bubble of light. There was no landscape to be seen. There was just blackness so complete that pitch had seemed a lustrous substance in comparison, and despite allowing no features to be recognized, you had distinct impression the darkness was seething violently against your presence here.

Good.

Defier… Mouse. Laurentia addresses you. In case you are surprised by my appearance, I’ve borrowed from the armaments Celestine is currently wearing. I felt it… appropriate.

It suits her, you think to yourself and share it freely with her, receiving a sense of delight in return. You appreciate how the warmth she exudes is not lessened by her more confident pose. At the same time, you feel an undertone of humility and reverence that displaced her earlier anxiety.

This light. It’s not unlike what I knew before, but now… it’s like it was filtered before. It’s… unlike what I remember. It’s as if what I held… what I still command… is a shadow rather than the real thing.

She conveys a sensation of taking in the air(?) around her.

I am beyond thankful to have come to experience this.

Despite the urgent circumstances, it is difficult not to be touched by her sincerity. Which seems kind of odd now that you think of it, given the reason why you chose to find solace in meditation just now.

Laurentia’s mood sobers at your recollection. Right. Of course, we are not done yet. I’m sorry, Mouse, I did not wish to seem disrespectful to y/our friends. In fact, I’m overwhelmed by – can you feel it? Can you sense it? The connection… they are with us.

With some spiritual exertion you broaden your perception at the goddess’s suggestion. And indeed, you realize that despite the solid thick blackness pressing from the outside, your vicinity is abuzz with light in a way it was never before. Partly familiar, from where you actively reached for your comrades’ bonds, partly novel in how vibrant they were.

Song, dance or a prayer, in earnest wish or a martial trance, the song you all shared rode the same wave with yours. And you realized that you and them both took solace in it without realizing.

This was what the beast had tried to take away from you.

To sever the bonds joined freely and replace it with rusting chains and barbed wire. To warp the soundless song into a hollow scream.

No.

“I refuse.” You hear yourself tell the darkness.

You can almost feel it attempt to push harder in its effort to smother your little refuge as it once against forsakes subtlety, to no avail.

Part of you is tempted to smile smugly at this thrashing, but something keeps you. You are not prideful enough to usurp beyond what you can tell is your own merit. And this power protecting you… as much as your understanding has progressed, you were far from claiming it as yours, or yours to control.

A stray thought told you that perhaps if you were to, wouldn’t that have likened you to your enemy?

Well, that was a question to ponder in halls of learning, probably. For now, you had a different call to make.

How would you progress?

>Stride forward into the darkness. Although at glance the darkness offered no distinguishing features, perhaps if you scoured it a bit, you might find something it doesn’t wish you to see. And you did come here to confront
>Before you move on, you need to check on your companions to be certain they are faring well, and perhaps – who knows? Focus on your bonds. (optional – specify who)
>Perhaps you needn’t actually move any further – perhaps all you need is already at your fingertips. Focus on the light itself, perhaps there is a clue there how to proceed
>other idea

>>6069558
>>Stride forward into the darkness. Although at glance the darkness offered no distinguishing features, perhaps if you scoured it a bit, you might find something it doesn’t wish you to see. And you did come here to confront

>>6069558
>Stride forward into the darkness. Although at glance the darkness offered no distinguishing features, perhaps if you scoured it a bit, you might find something it doesn’t wish you to see. And you did come here to confront
we move forward and only forward

>>6069558
>>Stride forward into the darkness. Although at glance the darkness offered no distinguishing features, perhaps if you scoured it a bit, you might find something it doesn’t wish you to see. And you did come here to confront

>>6069558
>Stride forward into the darkness. Although at glance the darkness offered no distinguishing features, perhaps if you scoured it a bit, you might find something it doesn’t wish you to see. And you did come here to confront

The choice was clear.

You came here to confront the enemy, to challenge the world itself, as you’d understood from Laurentia’s own account.

And to that end, what else could you do, but go forward?

Although you were not entirely sure yourself what exactly that meant, as you’d expected this place, at least on the physical, material plane, was the focal point of Beast’s power – perhaps that itself contained answer to your question. Physically you were where you needed to be, but you still had a ways to go… meta-physically.

I am with you. your luminous companion expressed in response to your unspoken sentiment. And so is everyone. I can see them. They are fighting, and they all have an idea of what they fight for. You can rest assured of that.

You did not doubt her, but it was nice to be reassured like this. And you felt that Laurentia also derived some comfort from making that statement.

Regardless, you think to yourself as you focus your resolve, now was not the time to comfort each other. There was work to be done. And so you turn your gaze forward – or at least into one direction that happens to feel like forward at that moment, and head out, with Laurentia’s warm presence following along.

First thing you notice as you proceed that, unlike previously when you’ve traversed this shadowy realm, your sheltering circle of light accompanied you as you moved, something was different this time. For one, some of the light remained, lingering echo surrounding the sporadic ethereal plant growth Laurentia had prompted into sprouting. You found yourself curious if those flowers would last. It was a somewhat soothing idea that they might, as unlikely as it seemed.

On the other hand, the illuminated bubble following you seemed… smaller, somehow. Perhaps it was just an illusion caused by the impromptu garden of light you had awakened into having somewhat larger radius, or perhaps it had shrunk under what was no doubt colossal pressure by the enemy intent on crushing you. Or perhaps it had simply shrunk to accommodate what you currently needed it to be.

As you neared edge of the area that bore signs of Laurentia’s touch, and the teeming mass of blackness reluctantly receded before you, the shadows parted to reveal something you hadn’t particularly expected: a monolithic rock floor and a cavern mouth, features that didn’t really fit appropriate to the reflection of material world, the pinnacle of an ancient temple, or what you remembered from your dreams – the same elevated platform, the one where you found an altar upon which you saw Laurentia for the first time.

There is a mental shudder joined with a touch of gratitude from your companion, as you bring up that recollection.

Never again You both think as one.

And you take the step forward, and into the cavern before you. Striding confidently, but without recklessness, you cover distance that is difficult, or perhaps even impossible in this realm, to quantify. The corridor maintains relatively steady diameter, yet the walls seem naturally rough, like those of a volcanic tube.

Even though it is easy to lose track of time, inasmuch it had bearing here, you didn’t feel like you had to travel long before the scenery changed. Whether the shift was so gradual as if to not be noticeable, or so abrupt that it simply swapped one texture for another, at one point you realized that you could see way past what walls of the corridor would seem to allow, peering into the shadowy void behind.

Then again, perhaps it was just your perception that had changed.

The teeming mass of blackness was still there, pressing itself towards you, attempting to squeeze through the invisible barrier of light, to no avail. And you were looking past it, into the void beyond. But if realization of that vision initially gave you a sliver of hope that you would be able to spot a landmark to head towards, that particular hope was quickly quashed – the void seemed featureless in every direction, and in a way reminded you of the skyline of black against black you remembered from your past forays into this strange realm.

Or at least so it had appeared at first.

As you travelled on, you became aware of two things.

One was a distant, nonverbal background noise. You could not discern its nature or assign a meaning to it directly, but you had a distinct feeling that it was not an expression you were supposed to perceive. It gave impression of strain, and perhaps even pain.

The other thing were patterns you’ve begun to discern in the seemingly uniform blackness of the horizon. It was all dark, of course, an expression of the Beast’s ambition to devour and cover and contain all under its dominion. But that was not all that was there to see.

Where most of the blackness was backed by pressure of malevolence and loathing as it pushed against its anathema, the veil of light sheltering you, there were stripes that, to your surprise, felt differently. Behind them – was that even right? You had felt, examining them, like you could not even properly lock on them, as if your gaze jumped from one edge straight to the other, and the state in-between felt – hollow.

Wounds. Laurentia whispers softly, but to your senses she may as well have been shouting. it’s bleeding. And the world follows.

What?

Those are tears in the world itself. Whether it is due to its thrashing, or because this confrontation so far had truly left its toll, it seems the world itself is affected.

What does that mean?

I… don’t know. Laurentia answers honestly and simply. There is an undertone of concern for the unknown, but no fear, and only some surprise. This was one of the possibilities she had thought might come to pass following this confrontation. Your… Our mission, remains the same. We/You need to press onward.

There is no hesitation behind her assertion, you know that much. But you still feel there’s something more that she is hesitant to share, weighing the matter, unwilling to push the burden of helping her decide onto you.

She should know better. She does know better. Somewhat embarrassed, she presents her dilemma:

I could fix it. She says, with much less certitude. At least, I feel like I might. I don’t really *know*…

What would it entail?

I don’t know! Comes a frustrated response. I feel I could take those rifts, and mend them. I don’t know what it would take out of me, or how the Enemy would respond, though I can hazard a guess he would try to take advantage of it somehow.

At first glance the notion seemed insane. At second, as well. But you had to admit, so did your entire quest. But even so you did not feel comfortable at all with idea of your spiritual friend taking this risk…

>Ask her to stay with you for now, especially if she’s not confident that she could pull this off. It was a well known matter that the injured beast is the most dangerous kind.
>Encourage her to do what she feel is right. You have the distinct feeling that she will take this as encouragement to expose herself to those… rifts, for better or worse.
>Suggest something else
>Say something else

>>6075308
>>Encourage her to do what she feel is right. You have the distinct feeling that she will take this as encouragement to expose herself to those… rifts, for better or worse.

even if it's just 1 update a week, I'm glad this quest has been on going until it's conclusion.
>>6075310
>Encourage her to do what she feel is right. You have the distinct feeling that she will take this as encouragement to expose herself to those… rifts, for better or worse.
boom or bust

>>6075310
>Encourage her to do what she feel is right. You have the distinct feeling that she will take this as encouragement to expose herself to those… rifts, for better or worse.

The words form so naturally that you are left guessing to what extent they are your idea, and to what extent you are simply reflecting her own feelings on the matter.

“Do what you think/feel right.”

You look at her, an unlikely companion on an impossible travail for an aberrant ogre such as yourself. She looks back.

The step she takes – or you do – or you both do – closes the distance between you, whatever the distance means in this context. But clearly there must have been some, because for the moment you are enveloped in a feeling of warmth that has become somewhat familiar to you. And in part, perhaps, because some of the sensation was among your earliest memories you so cherished. Closeness of someone’s affection, affection that may have come about under one circumstance or another, but was no longer contingent on anything else. Maternal love, romantic one, or bond of trust between friends, there was something they all held in common, and you were grateful that you were able to experience it.

You spend the moment in a shared embrace, and the resolve you felt behind your companion made you all the more reluctant to contemplate letting go, even though you both knew there was no other choice. For now, though, you were content to have this moment.

It felt like an ocean of light, like warm rays of summer sun after rain, surrounding you, like an oasis in the desert of shadows.

Thank you, Mouse. Thank you for the hope you… your parents… your companions… indeed, even your queen… have brought into this world. Whatever comes next, I will never forget any of this, and it shall be a source of sustenance for me forevermore.

Normally, such words spoken by a friend would propel you into a state of panic. Part of you urged you in that direction anyway. But as you were, your presences intertwined for the moment, there was no way, and no need. Your concern was shared, but so was your resolve, and your faith.

Don’t let it be a goodbye, you share.

The light behind the embrace solidifies, and brightens. Like a soft cloud of motes gathering, in anticipation of forming a star.

You feel a soft fluff brush against your back, and you realize that at some moment, Laurentia’s figure has sprouted a pair of lustrous, feathery wings that were now folded around you, further enhancing the embrace.

I do not know what comes next. But I know the path that I must take. All hesitation is gone now. Your companion speaks with calm demeanor and a mixture of certitude and humility that seems impossible for your mortal sensibilities to process, but the strength of conviction behind her words you cannot deny. I don’t need to ask you to follow yours. She adds. Let us go, and bring this travail to the proper conclusion.

And with that, with some reluctance on both parts, the embrace ends. Laurentia withdraws and takes a step back. You get one more look on the form she’s taken – aside from the addition of wings, it seemed more steady, somehow, more collected and serene, than before. You exchange one last look, one last smile, one last nod, but no more words. They would be superfluous at this point.

And then she is gone, bolting upwards into the darkness. Almost instantly you become unable to distinguish her form, but you remain able to track the point of light carving a path through the darkness, illuminating the skies that never knew true light.

Follow yours Her words echo in your mind and you resume your advance, all the while keeping the lonely star in your sight.

With your companion gone, it becomes even more difficult to keep track of progress. At least, though, you don’t feel alone. As you advance, you feel your connections to your friends, and find yourself again thankful for Laurentia’s earlier assurance, even though something tells you that even if she had said nothing, you would probably be able to keep faith in them, and feel their bonds supporting you.

Still, although your purpose was clear, and resolve unwavering, you felt yourself wondering what exactly would come next. It was not like there was some big obvious bad wolf waiting for you to duel, at least not where you could see it. For now, aside from the rifts that were by their very nature difficult to focus on, the only distinguishing feature was the path ahead, and the sole point of interest, the bright star burning through the shadows in the distance.

You wondered how far she would have to fly, after all those rifts looked to be on the horizon. But then again, what you were in was not exactly an euclidean space. For all you know she could be flying like that for the rest of eternity, or it could-

There’s a tremor that feels like not just ground(?) beneath your feet shaking, but also the air itself, you and even the time-

-could be flying like that for the rest of- wait, what?

Or perhaps it could happen right now.

The landscape has changed. The darkness around you seemed suddenly lighter, and so did the pressure. The horizon brightened up as well, and for the first time you could properly appreciate the rifts crisscrossing it, as the solid blackness had concentrated around them, silver and golden lining of light piercing through around the edges.

Ahn. A familiar voice vocalized an expression of annoyance and strain.

Laurentia? You’re still with me?

Always. Just… mmh.

What’s wrong?

Don’t… worry about me, Mouse. Just keep going. I can take it.

Well, that was not quite as reassuring as she may have hoped it would be. But it was certainly motivational. With an internal frown at being stuck in the middle of your darkness while your friend is already confronting the enemy somehow, you pick up the pace.

Now that you proceed at an elevated pace, you have less of a mind to examine distant scenery, though you still can’t not pay some attention to it. It’s after all when a friend of yours is facing a struggle of her own. But all you can do for her is play out your own part in this, and as you move on, you try and strain your senses to discern what exactly that would be.

And as it turns out, your efforts would not be in vain, as it seemed that the abrupt change in scenery revealed more than just the tears in the fabric of the world. The corridor ahead of you - and for all translucency allowing you to watch the edges of reality and backdrop of Laurentia’s struggle to keep them from fraying, it was still a corridor you were descending along – seemed to be leveling off not far away, going into some sort of mist, or in any case blurring away into some sort of uncertainty. With that in mind, you slightly lower your pace, and adjust your bearing. It’s not like you were unprepared to defend yourself from the unexpected… but right now, you felt wary enough that whatever came next would not surprise you.

A moment later, you find yourself at the mist’s edge.

You pause for a moment, contemplating your options. There’s not many of them, and some of them, such as turning around, were not even worth considering. Gripping your weapon a little bit tighter, and the sword lighting up eagerly in response to your determination, you step boldly into the mists, and the world around you shifts once more.

All the features are gone. You find yourself on a flat plane, at least as far as you could tell with the homogeneous rolling cloud of dust(?) obscuring your vision in every direction. Unlike the seething darkness, however, you felt no malice from it, or emotion in general. Although seemingly standing in way of your perception, the mist seemed completely inert.

You find yourself wondering whether you are still in the same shadowy realm, or some other place(?) altogether, but as it were, you had hardly time for such musings.

Before you, and in your mind, in parallel, an image began to emerge, and the mists part before you, revealing…

>...interior of a lavish mansion, furnished with exquisite quality and atrocious taste
>...sinister looking laboratory stocked with paraphernalia arcane and sinister
>...vaulted ceiling and stained glass windows of a magnificent temple
>…lively rumour, firelight and scent of spices and ale of a common tavern
>...something else? (write-in)

>>6078862
>...vaulted ceiling and stained glass windows of a magnificent temple

>>6078862
>...vaulted ceiling and stained glass windows of a magnificent temple

>>6078862
>...sinister looking laboratory stocked with paraphernalia arcane and sinister

>>6078862
>...interior of a lavish mansion, furnished with exquisite quality and atrocious taste

...sunshine, beams of radiant sunshine illuminating an imposing interior above and around you, vaulted ceiling of stone and play of colours cast by the stained glass window.

You found yourself in a cathedral. Not just any cathedral, it was an edifice you were intimately familiar with, part of the central structure of the cathedral city, and a focal point of your life…

...your life?

There’s a moment of contextual vertigo, as you allow your self to sort itself out, recalling who you are, where you are coming from and where you are going.

Uncharacteristically, there are two sets of answers.

One of them, the true (You), was that of Mouse, an ogre with a mission and friends to support you in it.

The other one was that of a monastic clerk, a timid man of modest piety looking to make his way through life without getting yelled at.

The true (You), as you gather your bearings, takes a back seat as your body stretches itself, having dozed off on the stone bench in the corridor, waiting for your appointment with father Kyros, one of the more dignified members of the clergy that had recently taken to make use of your penmanship skills for his administrative tasks and errands. It was not a bad life. Father’s many connections brought tokens of appreciations often, and father was gracious enough to share with the excess in exchange for your discretion. As an added benefit, there was never any talk of seeing you reassigned any closer to the front lines of the war with monsters.

The train of thought you are watching trot along gets momentarily sideline when a figure you both recognize comes into view. Lady Celestine herself, carrying an expression both solemn and serene on her flawless elven visage, was walking past, accompanied by a knight and a handmaiden, probably on her way to preside over a service.

You watch her approach, two sets of thoughts running in parallel, though both agreeing in assessment of the elven monarch as a paragon of beauty and grace. Your perspective was further coloured by the rapport you’ve built with Celestine over your time spent in cathedral city, and you find yourself wondering how she was doing right now – whatever now might mean in this context.

Your gazes meet momentarily. Your slightly glazed over brown eyes meeting Celestine’s emerald green. The “host” part of your mind panics, torn between being happy from receiving attention of the holy woman herself and getting worried you had somehow ended up in trouble.

The true (You), however, is delighted with what you’re sure was a hint of warmth and recognition. Which seemed strange. This entire circumstance was bizarre, as it was clear that it could not have been transmission of current events. But the when, where, how and why were all currently sidelined by the who.

Celestine blinks and approaches you, causing your current host to drop on a knee.

“My lady!”

“My lady.”

The second voice was that of the knight, politely reminding Celestine of something.

“I know, Frederick, the ceremony. Don’t worry, we’ll make it in time. But I feel this is important.”

“Are you having a vision, my lady?” Frederick asks and she mumbles something to the effect of “In a way.” while turning back to regard you.

There it is again. That spark of recognition, from beyond a pond of confusion.

“What is your name, child?” Celestine asks.

“A-alexander, my lady. I’m a s-scribe.”

“Alexander…” Celestine rolls the name around her tongue, her expression confused. “Oh, I’m sorry, I was certain I’ve recognized you from somewhere. I must have been mistaken.” She looks deep in your eyes again, and her expression softens a little. “Have faith, my friend. We will all make it through the night.” She adds.

There’s once again a glimpse of brief confusion, but quickly dispelled by her inner warmth as the elven hierarch seems to resolve something for herself and she’s once again an image of serene kindness.

“My lady….” The knight guard accompanying her seems anxious about the timetable.

“Yes, of course.” Celestine says and with one last mysterious smile she turns away and resumes her walk down the corridor at a slightly quicker pace to make up for the delay.

Sadly, you are denied the privilege of watching her go by arrival of two other figures that pass by Celestine and her entourage, paying the elven lady proper courtesies before continuing in your direction. You scramble to your feet as you recognize father Kyros and the man following him. You are not very familiar him, other than he is one of the notables that come to the good father with various matters that come with life in a highly reputable society.

“Good, you’re here.” Father Kyros acknowledges your presence and motions for you to follow the two of them into his study you were waiting in front of.

Following a familiar routine you settle behind a desk in the corner of the room, quill and inkwell at the ready, stack of paper, parchments and various seal at your disposal. Father Kyros and his guest on the other hand take a seat in comfortable chairs within reach of a wine and glassware cabinet. After some initial pleasantries, the old priest encourages the luxuriously clad gentleman to present his concerns.

“After all, the church of the goddess is here to help those in need.” Father Kyros explains kindly.

“Of course, of course.” The gentleman is eager to agree. “I know this from personal experience, just as you are well aware of the generosity carried by the merchants’ guild in thanks for the prosperity the goddess bestows. It all flows from the opportunities and our ability to seize them.”

“Quite right, quite right.” Father Kyros nods along. “So tell me, good brother, what opportunities or difficulties did you wish to discuss?”

The gentleman hesitates, looking in your direction. It was not the first time you’ve been present at this sort of meeting, but it seemed clear he was not very comfortable with your presence.

“Oh, don’t worry about Alex. He is a reliable lad, and knows well the value of virtue that is silence.” Father Kyros cordially dispels gentleman’s concerns.

“Very well, father. In that case I’ll cut straight to the heart of the matter. It’s about family values.”

“The heart of our lady’s care.” Father nods sagely.

“Quite. You see, we have a very respectable and very generous gentleman of good reputation that has been accused of heinous acts against a servant girl.”

“That’s terrible.”

“Indeed, imagine the consequences for the gentleman’s wife’s good name. Dreadful business.”

“Well, our lady’s courts should be readily able to clear this upstanding person’s name of any slander after the guard arrives at the heart of the matter.” Father Kyros assures.

“That is what I would have thought. But we seems to have been most unfortunate in that the officials involved in the investigation are extremely obstinate and not willing to reflect on our gentleman’s plight, or take into consideration his overall benefit to the society.”

“A difficult situation.” Father Kyros understands. “And I suppose you’ve come to me that we appeal to the good magistrate’s sense of piety and compassion.”

“You understand perfectly, father Kyros, I knew you were the exactly right person to come to.”

“I appreciate your keen insight, my friend. However, I’m sure that also means you realize we do not have direct authority to interfere, or even to request information on the case. That puts any argument we could make on purely theological basis.”

There’s a moment of silence as the gentleman seems to be collecting his thoughts, or perhaps working himself up to something. “I understand, that is why I have made some efforts to procure something for you to work with. I have with me some documents, including a testimony by a very dependable witness, that should conclusively clear our friend of all slander. It has been rejected by the magistrate for purely formal reasons, but I have it on good authority that a seal from your office should make it more palatable to use as an instrument of preventing the scandal that would disturb sanctity of my friend’s family.”

With this the gentleman produces a stack of documents and places them on the table. Father Kyros makes no motion to reach for them, instead he looks at them with a blankly contemplative expression.

“Father?”

“I’ve been consulting my conscience, my friend.”

The gentleman pales a bit. “Please take into consideration the bigger picture. The friend’s identity is known to you, and he is indeed very generous to the holy cause. He may not have been entirely blameless in the entire affair, but who among us is without blemish?”

“Oh, I was not passing judgment on you or your friend, my friend.” Father Kyros says. “I am indeed consulting my conscience in terms of the balancing of good and evil, virtue and wickedness. You speak the truth, who among us can pretend to be blameless?”

Gentleman settles down somewhat. “Oh. Of course.” and after rummaging some more produces another parchment, scribbling something on it and adding it onto the stack.

This time father Kyros reaches for the document and gives it a once over, then nods. “Very well then. I see that the balance tips to your friend’s advantage indeed. Thank you for your visit, my friend. I’ll be looking forward to hearing more of how you and your friend emerge from these tribulations.”

With the meeting clearly concluded, the well-dressed gentleman goes through some customary pleasantries and promptly takes his leave.

Shortly after the door closes behind the gentleman, the stack of documents lands at your desk.

“Go through it and use appropriate seals to ensure that the magistrate finds no formalities to latch on.” Father Kyros commands.

“Are you going to read it, father?”

“It’s probably better that I don’t. It might affect my impartiality on this matter.”

“Your… impartiality?”

“Just get it done, Alex.” The old priest sighs. “It would be good if you could finish before sunset where the courier leaves for the routine run so we don’t have to come up with other means or justifications for delivery. I’ll check with you later if you’re done.”

With that the priest departs, leaving you alone with a stack of papers.

You go through them, hoping they are not as bad as the discussion earlier made them seem.

They are worse, and contain some rather lurid references to other documents not presented. It appears the merchant’s “friend”, whether it was the merchant himself or some other person, had managed to impregnate a serving maid in his household. In attempt to conceal his deed, he administered a poison that ended up killing the girl along with the life she was going to bring into the world. The guard investigation for once turned up with a solid case against him, and the magistrate seemed unwilling or unable to go against them. It would take an intervention from higher power to overturn the case.

Higher power, that in this case would take form of father Kyros’ authority, and your penmanship. In this case, validate a testimony that puts the blame squarely on shoulders of a young man, an errand boy, that was the girl’s good acquaintance, a friend or perhaps more.

It was a sad tale. You felt you could relate with the boy, perhaps with a hint of envy for having had a friend. Then you feel a pang of guilt as you realize the boy probably just lost his love and would soon lose his life. Still, this now was your job and your life. There was nothing you could do.

Or was there?

You find yourself in conflict. Not just with your conscience, but between the two selves you currently carried. What should (You) do?

>This is simply wrong. You need to confront father Kyros and convince him to refuse this service. No manner of compensation could possibly be worth condemning an innocent for crime of another.
>You could… accidentally… pour some ink over the documents. Some of them could be easily replaced, some less so, but in both cases it would take time...
>You could… get creative. Use formulations that at a glance look to fulfil the letter of your command while allowing the magistrate to see the justice served if he chooses to.
>something else

>>6084174
>You could… get creative. Use formulations that at a glance look to fulfil the letter of your command while allowing the magistrate to see the justice served if he chooses to.

>>6084174
>You could… get creative. Use formulations that at a glance look to fulfil the letter of your command while allowing the magistrate to see the justice served if he chooses to.

>>6084174
>You could… get creative. Use formulations that at a glance look to fulfil the letter of your command while allowing the magistrate to see the justice served if he chooses to.

Perhaps if you were facing the matter in your own self, you would have chosen a different path. Or perhaps not. It’s never quite so easy to put oneself into another’s shoes.

Yet here you found yourself in another’s soul.

And so, with the outrage shared behind the both of you, scribe’s quill moves to carry out father Kyros’s orders… at least in letter.

You muster your creativity and scour your vocabulary and command of the language, as you penned the official writing that would be sealed by authority of the church, skirting and stretching the meaning of the words to allow for just enough ambiguity that the magistrate that would receive the letter would, should he so choose, not be compelled to derelict his duty out of fear of entering into a conflict with the church.

No sooner are you done with your work and put away the seal that the door opens and you feel a wave of dread wash over and well up within you. With some effort, and help from (You)r presence, you regain your composure. After all you’ve only followed your conscience. Especially after being eye to eye with lady Celestine, that should only come as natural, right?

“Alex. I see you’re done. Very good, I knew I could count on you to work quickly. Let me see.”

“W-what about your impartiality, father?”

The old priest raises his eyebrow and extends his hand. Trying to not look too defeated, you pass him the still drying document.

Father Kyros quickly skims it with his gaze, nodding to himself. Then his focused expression shifts into a frown that only deepens as he finishes his inspection.

“Alex. What do you think you are doing?” His brown eyes dig into yours. This time you gather some courage into the confrontation.

“I was consulting my conscience, father.”

Father Kyros’s expression cracks a bit into a hint of a smile, but it quickly vanishes under the bushy frown.

“You are not yet in position where you can allow yourself the luxury of a conscience, my boy.”

“Are you?”

The words leave your mouth on their own. Figuratively, you suppose, although you’re not sure which part of you had hand in this particular outburst. Still, it seemed to have had an effect. Father Kyros’s expression eases into one of resignation.

“No. I suppose I do not. In truth, I don’t think anyone truly has.” The old priest walks over to a window. His study was one of those above ground level, with a view out into the city. Districts immediately next to the cathedral were organized not to be directly exposed to most of the commercial traffic, but you could still see quite a bustle in the afternoon hours, of people scurrying towards their destinations – from work to their homes, on errands, to their duties, shopping, or to find their moment of respite in the cathedral or leisure away from it.

“Do you see all that movement?” The old priest asks. “Not unlike when I see young acolytes hurrying on an errand. I’m sure you’re familiar.” He makes a pause. “We are all motes of ash swirling in flames of the furnace we call the world.”

“Father…” You express in response to this sentiment. “But… but what about the goddess?”

“What of her?” Kyros turns around. “Yes, the teachings of Laurentia, embodied so perfectly in our lady Celestine, they are a powerful source of hope and guidance. And yet…” The old priest turns back to the window. “You’re still young. You will learn, and see, that the higher you get, the heavens remain equally unreachable, but the stain at your feet grows only ever larger.”

He turns back to you.

“And you need to learn how to navigate it. For yourself, and for those you choose over others.” He raises the document in his hand. “I’m going to tell you how this is going to play out. The magistrate will receive his letters, and he will be facing a choice, one you’ve made more difficult for him. To stick to his principles – or perhaps will of a rival benefactor – and skirt the document you have prepared for him. The murderer will face some semblance of justice, probably some combination of humiliation and being forced to compensate the lad, whose fate is likely already sealed. Or he will proceed as my good friend is hoping to, deferring to the authority of the seal you had used, perhaps quietly relieved that the burden was taken from him. Because, my child, murderer’s peers may publicly detest his deeds, they are much more likely to care about threat that the gaze of justice may one day fall their way.”

Old priest falls silent.

“That’s horrible.” You say.

“Such is the world that we live in.”

You begin to feel the image fray at the edges, the mist seeping in. You know that you are going to be taken else...where? When? In any case, away from here and now.

>Would you like to offer any words of parting to this scene?

As the mists pour in through the edges, an eerie sight that neither actor seems to react to, you feel a new image asserting itself…

>...a familiar sound, a familiar stench, a familiar scene. You find yourself on a field of battle.
>...against a backdrop of a lively, bustling city, you find yourself in a shadowy alley, sounds of festival drowning out a shriek
>...smell of sweat and industry, sunlight filtering into a large manufactory
>...something else?

>>6087402
>Whenever you feel frightned by the world, remember what gave you hope you carry on.

>...a familiar sound, a familiar stench, a familiar scene. You find yourself on a field of battle.

>>6087402
>supporting >>6087607

>>6087402
>The heavens are not a destination to reach, but a light to guide us out of the darkness

>...smell of sweat and industry, sunlight filtering into a large manufactory

New thread is up.
I apologise for the slop, no better images I have currently available. Also credit for the LoRA goes to Zakp.
Thank you for participating.

>>6092283