Chapter 1: This Is An Inquisition!
Chapter Text
Temenos Mistral was not used to travel. Certainly not to a place as treacherous as Stormhail – and under so little accompaniment. The friends he’d managed to bring numbered few, consisting of Ochette, Throné and Osvald. Those who had been closest. The beginning of their merry band.
Though, Temenos was alone now. The friends he had known were gone.
Truthfully, they should not be here yet. Navigating Stormhail with this party’s inexperience should have been beyond them, himself included, for all that his clerical strengths had yet to develop. Try as he might, his sparks were meager compared to the gross incandescence he had once been – or rather, was not yet – capable of.
Hmm. ‘Gross incandescence.’ He’d have to remember to use that one again.
Temenos had circumvented the guard and carefully averted disaster through the caves and the mountain path, but it had been no simple feat. Their shaves with death had been many. They’d needed his unnatural experience in adventuring and many other boons to successfully breach these massive walls.
Such a gamble as this was highly unlike Temenos. But, out of sheer divine cruelty, Pontiff Jörg had already been murdered by the time he’d arrived. It left his window of opportunity small. He’d not had time to build up the strength of his companions – or their trust.
Ochette was, he mused ironically, the one he depended on the most at the moment. Her natural strength, her innocence. The dear girl was a treasure, and Temenos would honor her forever. But this Ochette was not his Ochette, not yet.
And Osvald and Throné were far from trusting. And he knew why that was – so much more than they realized. That was where Ochette was crucial in keeping morale and building bridges. And the fact that she had her own business in Stormhail with which to entreat the others. Temenos was taking advantage of that to skip several of his own steps, which he’d have to cover for in other ways.
After gently dissuading Ochette from attempting to make friends with the guards Temenos turned to address his impromptu – but no less precious – companions. “Welcome to Stormhail, ladies and gentleman.” He gestured grandly. “Home of the esteemed Sacred Guard, if you couldn’t tell by the warm welcome.”
He waited.
Osvald, of course, said nothing, but immediately began looking about for the inn. Their poor professor had certainly seen enough cold in his life, and Temenos’ jokes were not appreciated.
Throné was equally unamused and rolled her eyes.
Ochette just tilted her head cutely. “Who’s welcoming us? I hope they have meat.”
By the gods, Temenos was going to have to teach her about his sense of humor again. He’d never imagined before how difficult it was to explain sarcasm to a culture that simply didn’t have it.
It was time to work.
He gathers the group close. “Now – I’m afraid I must immediately tend to my business here at the Sacred Guard Headquarters. I must do so alone, as I said before and shall apologize again for. But let me reiterate: This place – and these people – are dangerous. Do please stay out of trouble until I return.” If he returned, he did not say. But while Osvald and Throné could hardly be expected to stay out of trouble entirely, he hoped they would at least stay away from the knights. He was more worried about Ochette.
“And that mountain,” Ochette looked to the north, but the mountain was not even visible in the squall of snow. “That’s where Glacis is?”
Temenos squeezed her shoulder. “It is. But scaling it and entreating Glacis to your fine cause will not be easy. We will have to prepare ourselves thoroughly – supplies, defenses, and plenty of meat,” he said with undisguised poignance. “I trust you remember our timeline?”
“There’s about half a year until the Night of the Crimson Moon,” Ochette recites, smiling toothily. “I remember. You’re a big help, Tem-Tem! I dunno if I could have kept track of that by myself!”
“I’m sure you’ll find you’re capable of great things, good Ochette,” Temenos said with utter seriousness, making Osvald and Throné shuffle uncomfortably.
They were both still prickly, Temenos knew. Still so unused to healthy expression and basic human decency.
But he’d been little better himself.
As he already knew where they were, Temenos pointed out both the inn and tavern to them. He reaffirmed his promise to afterwards visit Winterbloom for Throné and make south for the harbor of New Delsta to cross the sea and reach Osvald’s home in Conning Creek.
They’d been surprisingly agreeable. Temenos supposed his appeals had been effective. He’d shared some things that hadn’t been easy to share.
Forging bonds meant making oneself vulnerable, a risk Temenos had failed to understand for much of his life.
And he was about to take that same risk again. But it would be far greater this time. Very likely, he would die, leaving his new friends helpless, and the world equally so.
His footsteps crushed softly through the ever-deepening snow as he made his way to the cold, gray cornerstones of Kaldena’s fortress.
He was, of course, recognized as soon as he entered. The guards did not approach but merely side-eyed him, intent on reporting his presence up the ladder at their next convenience.
Temenos approached the receptionist. “Good day, Alicia.” As if any day was a good day in Stormhail while Glacis continued to rain frozen hell upon them.
The mousey, oft-bullied woman at the desk peered up from her missives. “Inquisitor. I beg your pardon, word of your arrival has not reached me…” She began nervously shuffling through the papers, searching for an appointment that did not exist. Temenos stayed her hand.
“I’m afraid I did not have time to provide forewarning of my visit,” he said with polite somberness. “I shan’t keep you from your work long, my good woman.” He quickly grabbed her hands, making her squeak. “I must speak to the captain and the captain alone – immediately. It is an emergency.” He spoke quietly, intending, for once, not to put on any unnecessary pressure. This unfortunate woman was not his target.
Temenos was not a gambling man, and not because of the cloth he wore. To rely on chance was to accept a loss of control, and a loss of control was not acceptable.
But his immediate gamble paid off – the first of many he had to make. Alicia’s lip trembled lightly. “C-Captain Kaldena, Inquisitor? She has an office day today. I-I’ll send word…”
“Be sure to use my name, Alicia,” he advised. “They will not question you for that.”
She nodded, and Temenos retreated so she could summon an aid. He would wait a short distance away where the sight of him could not be missed.
The first gamble was that Kaldena would even be here in the first place. He was sure she had many travel arrangements to see to, which was why he’d needed to get here as quickly as possible.
As he waited he zoned out to play through the scenario in his head. First, the one he hoped for. Then all the others – which would end in his death, or worse.
If he carried one assurance, it was that he may be able to cheat death. But if it came to that, then this whole errand was a fool’s one.
It wasn’t ideal.
What also wasn’t ideal became known to him as he snapped out of his waiting trance. The heavy footsteps that approached belonged to Cubaryi. That was already a serious setback. While she was Kaldena’s direct assistant, Temenos had hoped he would be attended to by Ort instead. The woman’s hatred of him was palpable. Unlike most other people, Temenos did not enjoy antagonizing her. She was unstable, and therefore represented potential loss of control.
“The hound,” she sneered as Alicia flinched just behind her. “You should know better than to drop by unannounced. We haven’t had time to fetch your kitchen scraps.”
How uninspired. But Temenos would need to do the last thing Cubaryi expected if she was going to let him see Kaldena.
“Please, Deputy Cubaryi,” he said, dropping any hint of smile. “This is important. Pray allow me to see the captain.”
As expected, sincerity and respect were as a left hook, coming from Temenos. Cubaryi shut her mouth, eyeing him up suspiciously. There was no good response to his entreatment; not one she could think of, anyway. As he’d thought. Temenos held her glare, not changing the sobriety in his face. Truth was the best form of deception – a lesson he’d learned in what seemed like another lifetime.
With a face suggesting she held a lemon in her mouth, she turned to march towards the tower, not checking to see if Temenos followed or kept up with her strides. He exhaled and hurried after like an obedient dog.
Temenos had not actually been to the captain’s office before. Kaldena often took to field operations. A woman of her strength could only sit at a desk for so long. True strength had to be diligently maintained.
Cubaryi knocked on the door with a reverence that hid her sourness.
“Enter,” the voice of Kaldena spoke, driving ice down Temenos’ back that chilled him deeper than the winds beating against the walls from outside for what he was about to attempt.
He truly feared he would not walk away from this interrogation. Much as Temenos hated the idea, it was a leap of faith. But he did not go blind.
The problem of Cubaryi arose once again as she entered with him. She could not be present for this.
Kaldena was, to his dismay but not his surprise, adorned in her full armaments despite holding a fountain pen instead of her unreasonably large sword. Said sword was laid uncouthly against the wall behind her; a display of power that was as much symbolic as physical. Of course – Temenos had never seen her wearing any less.
He cleared his throat. “I hope word of my arrival reached you before my person, Captain?”
Kaldena looked up from her work piercingly. She set down her pen and innocuously moved the papers in front of her to a drawer. Telling, Temenos thought, but ultimately of little consequence. “It did,” she said with only the slightest note of distaste at his presence. “It spoke of an emergency situation. I hope you don’t expect me to entertain you for anything less.”
And that was no idle threat.
“Indeed, Captain.” Temenos made sure to bow. “I must further ask that only Aelfric Himself bear witness to our conversation.” He gestured to Cubaryi, invoking the Flamebringer in the manner reserved only for criminal proceedings.
The knight sputtered. “You dare – anything you have to say to Lady Kaldena can be said to me!”
Temenos kept his bow low. “Please, Captain Kaldena.”
Silence prevailed. Temenos could not see from his position, but he felt Kaldena’s penetrating stare. Suspicion – perhaps even incredulity.
Evidently, Cubaryi was the most uncomfortable as she protested once again. “Lady Kaldena, he dares to invoke the gods before us – the head of the Sacred Guard! We obviously cannot abide –”
Only Temenos would have known to look for the small curl of Kaldena’s lip at those words. “Leave us.”
If only Cubaryi knew how much Kaldena hated the gods, he mused vindictively.
Temenos desperately contained his delight at seeing Cubaryi take that like a slap to the face. “C-Captain –” she all but trembled.
“I won’t repeat myself, Cubaryi,” Kaldena cut her off like a rotten limb.
Oh dear – she looked like she might cry. Temenos spared her his stare. Cubaryi did not speak again and hobbled out the door, closing it. He waited patiently for her footsteps to dissolve.
“You cannot tell me you didn’t enjoy that… hound,” Kaldena said with no less love than Cubaryi.
Temenos smiled, though only just, hoping to improve the mood but doubting that he would. “I would never claim otherwise, Captain. But I’m afraid I have much more important matters on my mind than our dearly-addled deputy.”
“Then speak quickly,” Kaldena growled. “And pray that they are important indeed.”
A lesser Temenos would not have known the meaning behind her words.
He drew himself up with a deep breath. He began his transformation; first, into a consummate cleric. “I recall… a battle. A dire conflict that held the future of Solistia at stake. I was there. Though I am no warrior, I took up arms nonetheless, as a proud cleric of the Sacred Flame.” He paused for effect. “The days leading up to this confrontation were long and spanned trials across the lands.” He paused again, at which point Kaldena chose to speak.
“...A vision?” She said.
He had her attention. That was a good start. He shook his head gently. “Not quite.” Though Kaldena would assume that, where likely no one else in the Sacred Guard would; she knew so much they didn’t. Temenos continued. “As my comrades fell I struggled to knit them back together.” He shook in memory and his stomach lurched. His deception was no lie. “Until I, too, saw darkness take me.” He heaved and brought his arms down. “And then – I awoke in my bed, on the morning of the Pontiff’s murder.”
Kaldena had her fingers clasped over her chin. She betrayed nothing of Jörg’s fate – but that was not Temenos’ purpose here.
“However,” he continued, “that was the second time I’d experienced that specific morning. The second time,” he repeated. Temenos approached Kaldena’s desk and placed his hands before her. “I am Temenos Mistral. And, at what I can only assume is Aelfric’s behest – I have returned to the past from a dark future. A future where I died. A future less than a year from now.”
The silence that followed could not be matched by the deepest tombs. Temenos let his eyes burn into Kaldena’s, that she would see the truth in his words.
As he expected, she did not. A hand twitched in the direction of her sword, but did not reach out for it. That, he supposed, was already better than he’d hoped for. Then, she unfolded her arms in the manner a lioness might begin a hunt. “Temenos,” she said slowly. Her use of his name was not ideal. “...I don’t think I need to tell you that as Captain of the Sacred Guard, I am quite busy. And I don’t indulge… jokes. Just this once – and only once – I will allow you to walk out of this room with no further words between us.” Danger seeped from her voice.
Temenos carefully extracted himself from her desk. He clasped his hands unassumingly behind his back and walked to the window to see the grand view of absolutely nothing but snow outside. He made sure his back was turned to Kaldena.
“The Kal people,” he began softly. “Ardent descendants of the hero who brought the dawn to an onslaught of darkness.” Pause. “Bearers of the azure flame. Keepers.” He could not see; could only believe that Kaldena would not interrupt him here. “And thirty years ago… massacred. Genocide. An act of such unbridled cruelty… hatred the likes of which the Church–” Temenos snarled “--offered no answer for. Cowards that they are, they erased this act of pure evil, unable to bear the weight of the truth . ‘Such a shame,’ they said, shaking their heads behind their veils. ‘Bad business. Best to just… forget.’”
Temenos listened closely for sounds, then placed a hand on the cold glass and continued. “I saw it,” he whispered. “The bones scattered about, filled with the dents of blades. Adults. Children. Their ghostly imprints left within the azure flames, remnants of their final moments.” Pause. “Perhaps your father was among them, Kaldena. And what of Vados’ family?”
There was a creak of armor from behind him.
“The village nearby; Crackridge. So unassuming – and yet, so guilty. Such distrust they held for me – a member of the Church. Those crescent moon necklaces – worn so openly. Proudly. Shopkeepers. Musicians. Men, women. Elders… children. How many of them knew, would you say? How many of them had been there, that terrible day? Perhaps the innkeeper? The greengrocer? How many of them now exchange leaves where once had been the blood of your family? And to think they still live freely… unpunished. Where is the justice?”
Temenos waited, then returned his hand to his back. “But… perhaps… we should put aside those feelings, at least for the moment.” Pause. “I returned here to Stormhail, attempting to find more information on this… Moonshade Order. I was armed with little more than the phrase ‘ Surrender yourself not unto silent dusk. For the light shall fade. And soon, night shall fall.’ What a clever hideaway I discovered… ‘Break the earth’s shackles, and look to the heavens,’ I believe it was? Through the stained glass… ingenious. And what I uncovered from there…”
Another creak of armor.
“Imagine my surprise,” Temenos continued breezily, flipping a hand. “Or, perhaps, the lack of surprise, when I found out the one in possession of a ritual to harness the power of the Shadow, and having swiftly departed to the Nameless Village in Toto’haha prepared to sacrifice their well-meaning knights in the name of vengeance – to be none other than the brave Captain Kaldena, last of the Kal people and Honorable Commander of the Sacred Guard, a true Godsblade if there ever was one –”
Schwung!
Temenos halted his speech as the darkness-bearing sword embedded itself in the wall next to his neck. It then inched closer, guided by a steady hand, until the edge just touched his skin.
Undeterred, he slowly turned around from the window, the blade at his neck leaving a faint but not substantial line. “I take it you believe me now?” He said lightly to Kaldena.
She held a silence through her murderous glare. Her mouth trembled and her jaw twitched, and thankfully her sword-arm did not move with them.
Goodness – he’d been perhaps more effective than he’d intended.
Temenos did not shirk her gaze. If these should be his last moments – again – he would at least remember the last living face of the Kal tragedy.
Kaldena shuddered in the manner that every criminal does upon discovering that the burden of their secrecy has been lifted. “One more step and you die.” She whispered to him.
Temenos closed his eyes as if contemplating. He sighed, still mindful of the blade. “Now, Kaldena.” He would neither denigrate her name nor honor it with a title, here. “You are as fiercely intelligent a woman as I’ve ever known. Obviously – you cannot do that.”
“Would you gamble your life now, Inquisitor – Temenos?” She breathed in a voice as still as the darkness of her family’s forgotten crypt. “Or perhaps you intend to bargain?”
Temenos carefully brought the hand opposite the blade to thumb his chin. “Gamble… oh yes. Loathe as I am to throw myself to the whims of fate. But you see, Kaldena, were you to kill me here, you would remain in the dark.”
Her body shook as if he’d struck her. But her blade remained unmoving, telling a different story than death.
The first major hurdle was cleared, then.
“Allow me to explain. Unfortunately, given that I have miraculously returned from certain death, you have no idea how much I’ve chosen to reveal, and how much remains hidden. Nor do you know what actions I may or may not have taken since my return to undermine you, dismantle your operations, or otherwise engage in subterfuge.” Temenos raised his eyebrows. “Kill me – and you lose any hope of finding out. And I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that no interrogation will work on me, certainly not the crude methods your knights employ in this building.”
Kaldena dipped her head before him. She had been uncovered through no less than divine intervention. At least, as far as anyone knew. And Kaldena’s operations had been effective, resisting his investigation to the very end. She was in shock – and who could blame her? No one could have predicted this, certainly not Temenos, were he in her position.
I do believe she’s hyperventilating, Temenos observed. When had Kaldena ever known doubt? Fear? Not since being consumed by hatred for thirty years.
Kaldena dipped. Her breathing escalated. She hung from her sword embedded in the wall. He saw her shake her head, whipping her pale hair. Something on her caught his eye.
Temenos protruded a hand below her, as if beckoning to a kitten. As she flinched, he knew she saw it and would be no further shocked by the movement. Not that she needed to fear him – he was incapable of hurting her as he was now, certainly not with her sword ready to send his head flying.
He gently brushed up the hair over her forehead revealing the red mark of the Flame that lay underneath. He rubbed it with his thumb. Her skin was damp, clammy, hot with the rush of blood and yet cold as the chill northern air.
“How many people have had the courage to ask what this means to you, Kaldena?” He said softly to her. “Surely the number must be few.”
For the barest moment, there was peace.
Her grip tightened on her sword and Temenos swiftly withdrew his hand appeasingly.
Kaldena’s breathing slowed, and she looked back at him, teeth bared. “What do you want?”
Temenos hummed. “Well, obviously I can’t let you go through with what you’re planning. But in the more immediate sense… May I suggest we de-escalate a bit?” He tapped the sword. “Your chair looks quite comfortable. I will remain standing, as I know you like to make people do while you sit. Please, Kaldena.”
She continued to eye him as he walked away from her sword and the window to return before her desk. He politely did not examine it for any incriminating contents she had not yet stashed away.
Kaldena eventually pulled her sword out of the wall with a thunk. She trudged back to the desk and returned the sword to the wall. She just held herself from slumping to the soft chair, still intending to maintain her dignity.
Temenos would need to break her.
“You have questions,” Temenos said. “Please ask freely.”
Her eyes widened. She rocked in her seat. She made to smooth her hair. “You said… you returned… because of Aelfric? Is… that true?”
Temenos shrugged. “In truth – I don’t know. That is merely an assumption I’ve made, because I know of no mortal power capable of such a feat as turning back time. I don’t suppose you know any better? Nothing passed through your people?”
He doubted there was such knowledge, and when she shook her head he offered a noise of disappointment.
“So… Aelfric chose you…” Kaldena spoke bitterly. “Yes… you. His chosen. I understand now.”
Well that was interesting. “Something else? Passed through the Kal people?”
“...It was said,” Kaldena began, “that once in a while, the gods would choose champions of their professions in times of great disaster. I never would have thought you could be Aelfric’s chosen.”
Temenos wrinkled his nose. “Well. That’s certainly uncalled for.”
“What,” she snapped, misinterpreting his displeasure. “Surprised? I hold no love for Aelfric – for that damnable Flame! It can all go to hell for all I care! Does my blasphemy shock you, chosen one?”
He held up a hand. “Oh no. That wasn’t what I was referring to. I am quite aware of your feelings on the gods, despite your esteemed position. You told me yourself, after all.”
She halted her tirade out of dismay.
Temenos sighed. “I certainly don’t recall asking or agreeing to such a troublesome position. I have journeyed already, in that other life. I searched for the truth and found it. I should be done. I should be enjoying my bed in Flamechurch and some warm, spiced milk, not traipsing through a blizzard to a city I had no intention of ever again visiting. I don’t appreciate becoming a tool. How very rude of Aelfric.”
Kaldena straightened her posture in amusement. “...Now that I can’t believe, good hound. You were never nothing but loyal.”
“Oh I assure you, Kaldena,” Temenos said, “you’ll find I have only marginally more appreciation for the gods than yourself.”
“You’re lying,” she sneered.
“I admit my reputation precedes me,” he agreed, “but I’ve decided that I have nothing to gain from telling lies… not when the truth carries so much more weight.” He idly traced the patterns in her desk. “The truth is my duty. Not Aelfric. At least – that’s how I see it.”
She scoffed, and turned away.
“Come – you must have more questions. I will not hold back my answers, I assure you.”
Kaldena offered a pause and a sigh of contemplation. “You say you died. Did I kill you?”
Temenos smiled gleefully. “Oh no. Though not for lack of trying, on your part. I had no choice but to kill you.”
Kaldena froze, then tilted her gaze to him. “...Then I did not succeed in my plan.”
“Hmm…” Temenos considered. “If you mean gaining the power to kill the gods – no, certainly not. But your ritual did succeed exactly as intended. And you did gain considerable power from it.”
“...I don’t understand.” Kaldena said. “How could I have failed, then?”
“Come now, Kaldena,” he said, gesturing as if he were admonishing a child. “You should know better than that. Your ritual was flawed.”
“Impossible,” Kaldena narrowed her eyes. “You said it worked –”
“--Exactly as intended,” Temenos interrupted. “It was given to you flawed.”
Her face was wide in denial, the clockworks of her mind turning frantically through her knowledge. “That cannot be…” she whispered. “I did my research. I tested it, on a smaller scale… I replicated the conditions…”
“I do not have specific knowledge of the workings of the ritual,” Temenos said, “but I heard the truth from Arcanette’s own mouth.”
Pressure point. A quiet hammer.
Kaldena inhaled sharply and turned her eyes down from him. “You know even that name…”
“Oh I know much more than that, Kaldena,” Temenos whispered sinisterly. “You never knew who she was. Had never been given the pleasure of a direct confrontation. Did that not strike you as strange? Did you not once consider what their party’s interests were – how convenient it all was for you? But I know. I discovered the truth. And even now, I know Arcanette’s location. Her identity. I know her associates. I know her true objectives… I died for that truth, Kaldena.”
Temenos leaned close to Kaldena. He placed a hand on her shoulder, causing her to return to him. “You’d been dead for some time by then,” he said softly. “She laughed at you, Kaldena. She called you an eager puppet.”
Pressure point. A slow knife.
Kaldena stared back at him like a lost child. “Arcanette’s glee was not manic. It was reserved. Never once did she raise her voice to me, even in the end. She nonetheless proudly confessed to the murder of the Kal people… to being the leader of the Moonshade Order.”
Pressure point. An unforgiving sword. A noise like a frightened animal spilled from Kaldena.
“Oh – you didn’t even know that much?” Temenos smiled at her, moving to stroke her cheek. “I suppose you wouldn’t… letting you know was a risk they never needed to take. Not you, their sworn enemy. No, they merely needed control of the Flame you once guarded, as well as the numerous dark possessions kept by the Church. Possessions that could have easily been acquired with the help of… say… the Captain of the Sacred Guard.”
Kaldena recoiled from his touch. He allowed this, turning away to pace the chamber.
“The tragedy did not end with the Kal Massacre, did it?” Temenos said loudly. “Oh no – their last daughter just had to take revenge. Yet in so doing, she was taken in by the very person who slaughtered her people!” Temenos giggled. “If ever such irony has been matched in history, I have yet to learn of it! And so that foolish, foolish girl took her enemy’s machinations as happily as if it were candy to the cave in the Nameless Village, sacrificed the knights who loved and trusted her, and was twisted into a demon for her trouble!” He made sure to laugh. “Then who was left to clean up the mess? To be the one to put down foolish Kaldena like a mad dog? Why, who better than me – the Church’s faithful hound! Yes – I became the one to hammer the final nail in the coffin of the once-proud Kal people! Meanwhile Arcanette and her Order laughed quietly behind the scenes, scooping up their prizes, giving thanks to foolish Kaldena!”
Temenos heard a sob. The stage was set.
He lowered his voice. “If there truly was life after death, would the gods have allowed you to see your people again, Kaldena? After what you had done? …What would your father say?”
“Stop… please…”
Pressure point. An ax to cleave even the sturdiest shield.
And Kaldena was broken.
Temenos remained quiet and waited.
Kaldena’s crying suggested that she’d forgotten how to do so. That there had been no room for it in thirty years of deicidal hatred. Perhaps, he thought, she’d known that it was an indulgence she could never yield to, lest her crusade fail.
She needn’t have worried. She was doomed either way.
Temenos leaned against her desk tiredly, very much wishing she had more than one chair in here. He quietly performed some exercises to rest his throat.
He waited and waited. Kaldena’s whimpers had gradually faded. He hoped no other appointments would come knocking to interrupt them.
“How do I know… you’re telling the truth?” Temenos turned around, where Kaldena lay crumpled over her desk. He allowed a roll of his eyes.
“You’re no child, Kaldena, like those I make my plays to in Flamechurch. I’ve already answered: Why should I use lies when the truth hurts so much more?”
“...You hate me, don’t you?”
He frowned. “Did you ever give me a reason not to? In all your past treatment of me? I thought you didn’t care what anyone else thought. Not after the world left you all alone. They could die along with the gods.”
“I don’t care. I don’t.” She growled. “What do you care about, Temenos?”
“You think I don’t?” He said coldly. “You think I stepped into your home, saw the bones of your people, and felt nothing?” Temenos reached out and pulled a lock of her silver hair, making her groan. “You think I felt nothing when you killed my friends just for pursuing the truth? Rest assured; I will be taking care to remove them from your presence so that can’t happen again.” He clenched that fistful of hair, thinking of Crick. “But how many other innocents have you killed already?” No, he needed to refocus himself. He released the fist. “You think… I wanted to be the one to finish the tragic tale of the Kal? That even knowing all you had done – that I wanted to you to die, having been twisted into a demon… I came here today to prevent all of that. Every last moment.”
Temenos pulled back and composed himself again with a loud sigh, straightening his robes.
“You died already.” Kaldena’s beady eye looked up at him from her nest of arms and hair. “Can you really make it happen?”
“If I can’t,” Temenos replied, “I suspect that whatever force brought me back may continue to do so until I succeed.” He paused. “But that is rather presumptuous of me. I would prefer not to keep going through all that trouble.”
“So why come to me? If you know who Arcanette is…” She paused. “I should kill her. Is that what you need? Who is she?”
“You cannot,” he protested. “Nor can I. She is too powerful, even for you. She has lived for hundreds of years. And she is too well connected. She has eyes everywhere. Her resources are greater than yours. She allowed herself to become known to me only when it no longer mattered. She did not care about dying, because the Moonshade Order does not care about dying. It took much of our forces to bring her down, but I fear, having already succeeded, she was not even trying. No, I am forced to leave her be for now, and keep alive what people I can. But her time will come, Kaldena, just as it did before. If you would offer your help when that time comes, I would welcome it.”
“...But you don’t need me for her,” she concluded.
“No, I do not,” Temenos said. “But you’ll want to be there, I imagine. You deserve it – for what she did to you, daughter of the Kal. As for who she is…”
Kaldena had somewhat recovered from her grief. She raised her head to listen.
“She is an old friend. A cleric in Flamechurch named Mindt. Shortly before arranging the pontiff’s murder, she assisted me with my play on the story of Aelfric’s victory over Vide the Wicked. The children adore her.”
Kaldena stared back at him, and shook her head. “I… don’t even know who that is. It’s…”
“Unthinkable?” Temenos agreed. “Quite. I truly believed she was my friend… from the bottom of my heart. I never once suspected her. Not even close. Until the truth was quite literally staring me in the face. And I suspected you from the beginning. You sought this position of power, out of belief in its importance. Much too obvious. You would never think a mere cleric in a small church mattered. Compared to her, you were nothing.” He shook his head. “You spoke of being chosen by Aelfric? If I was, perhaps it was merely because I happened to be near her.”
Her head fell again. “...And what is she trying to do? If you were able to kill her… how did you die?”
“Who do the Moonshade Order serve?” He countered.
“Vide, of course.” She paused. “...You speak of fairy tales. No different from your children’s play. They can’t mean to –”
“You must mind your arrogance, Kaldena. It is what blinds you each and every time,” Temenos interjected. “If only it were just fairy tales.”
She continued to object. “They can’t have –”
His eyes flashed. “But they did. And so – I was killed in battle… alongside the greatest friends I could have ever asked for.” He paused in uncomfortable realization. “There were seven others of us… my fellow chosen ones.”
“You’re saying,” she said with a slam on the desk, “you came back because you believe you can defeat a god, when you already tried and failed–”
“Correction, Kaldena,” he held up a finger, “we – never forget that I was not alone; we – attempted to defeat the mortal vessel that was possessed by the god Vide – and almost succeeded.” He bent over her desk. “His power was beyond us, yes. But he could be harmed. He was not invincible. We held out for a long time. Though it has been painful recalling my friends, I have concluded that we merely made too many mistakes in the battle. Mistakes that shall not be repeated!” All this pounding by them both could not be good for her poor desk.
Kaldena’s eyes were wide with denial. She shook her head. “You… what you speak of is madness. My people –” she choked. “The Kal knew better than any the power of the dark god. I… I haven’t forgotten. It is why I…”
“...Why you sought the power of the Shadow in your vendetta?” Temenos replied. “Why you believed it to be the only thing capable of slaying the other gods?”
“Only the power,” she protested. “Not the dark god himself!”
“The forces of darkness are not a toy, Kaldena!” Temenos snapped. “Don’t continue to be foolish after I went through all this trouble!”
“I will not help you fight the dark god,” she hissed. “I can’t. You think it is possible – that I cannot… can never believe.”
“And yet, you fully intended to take on the eight remaining gods all alone? It is time to stop being so foolish, Kaldena!”
“Stop… calling me that!” She snarled. “What… what else can I do? I hate them… I hate them!”
“So I’ve heard you say,” Temenos said lightly. “And why do you hate them so?”
Kaldena opened her mouth and stopped, looking around warily, listening to the silence.
After a moment, Temenos understood. “I have no more desire to be overheard than you do, Kaldena. Unless you believe we may be interrupted – you would know better than I – please feel free to continue.”
She listened again. “...They did nothing. Father… Mother… they all died and it was just – part of the greater divine plan?” Her voice rumbled, speaking heresy she’d never dared admit to.
“Who were the Kal?” Temenos asked gently.
She stood up so quickly her chair clattered against the floor. “We were the Keepers!” She said furiously. “For generations, centuries – we toiled thanklessly for them holed up in the filthy ground to keep their precious Flame safe! But we were proud to do it! To be useful to them! So why… what did we do to deserve DEATH!?”
“And why did the Moonshade Order kill them?” Temenos offered her a wide berth.
“Because they were FUCKING ANIMALS!” She roared. Kaldena seized her enormous sword and smashed the desk with a bang that split the eardrums. “Maybe if they hadn’t given us the damn Flame – we wouldn’t have been SLAUGHTERED LIKE ANIMALS! Did those fucking gods ever – think – of – THAT!?” She slammed the sword through the desk over and over until it lay in splinters. Scraps of paper fluttered around the room; they no longer mattered.
“Good, Kaldena…” Temenos urged. “You’re not the only one who knows these things anymore. I’m here – no one else can hear you. I won’t tell anyone – what good would that do? Share the truth with me. Speak – speak what you really feel.”
“The Church – they did FUCK-ALL!” She screamed. “No investigations – no JUSTICE – we thought they would help us – those COWARDS! If I’d been in charge – if I HAD BEEN IN CHARGE –” Kaldena lifted her chair up and snapped it across her armored thighs. “People didn’t care! Farmers – nobles – thieves, merchants, scholars – the extinction of my people might have been news to some but we were soon forgotten! Going about their lives – smiling – laughing – never thinking about what was SACRIFICED for them!”
Her breaths came fast and harsh, with a high-pitched, frenzied whine. “They all live because we didn’t… because we kept the Flame safe, and once we were lost, the gods chosens failed, damning them all…” She grinned cruelly. “Serves them RIGHT. They should all BURN for what happened to us! For failing to protect us! For counting on gods who do NOTHING!”
Kaldena’s strength did not last. Eventually, her wicked smile fell. Her sword clattered from her grip. She fell to the floor like a puppet with cut strings. She covered her face with her hands. “Mother… F-Father… don’t hate me – please – don’t… don’t hate me… don’t leave me…”
Temenos approached, and sat down next to her, sniffing at the dust of splintered wood and shredded paper in the air, settling on his robes.
“I think, Kaldena, you’d have died one way or another,” Temenos said quietly. “No matter what power you gained… Even if there was no hound to stop you… How could you take on the eight gods? You must have known somewhere, deep inside.”
“Maybe I should have died…” she murmured. “I should have died with them. Father should never have saved me. ‘Tis better that way… ‘Tis better than this… madness.”
Temenos would never claim to be anything less than terrible at comforting people.
Very awkwardly, he placed an arm across Kaldena’s shoulders. Once again, he waited.
Kaldena showed few signs of life. There was no helping it then.
“You asked what I needed from you,” Temenos began. “Truthfully, I require very little. Just two things. Will you listen?”
Only after he nudged her did he hear a moan.
“First, I can’t have you killing any more people. Not even the most genuine of criminals. I can’t risk it. You will not ruin your soul any further. Of course, that means you will not be continuing your plans for the Book of Night. That, you see, is the foremost thing Arcanette needs from you. She shall have to look elsewhere to have it made. We may have to consider how she will respond to this move… but later. I shall have multiple points of business here in Stormhail these next six months to check in with. Do not give her any more of your life.”
Temenos allowed her to absorb, but did not expect any real response. That was fine. Kaldena had a lot of contemplation to do, but he knew she was trapped; now that she knew how deeply entrenched she was in her own killers, she could never continue as she had.
“And the second matter.” He tasted his words a few times first. “Just live.”
Her shoulders heaved, so he decided to release them. “I… just told you… I don’t want to live.”
He did not relent. “That won’t do, Kaldena. This is… no grand scheme. No complicated plan to further my own ends.” He sighed from the heart. “I… simply… cannot stand to see the Kal end like this. To heap tragedy upon tragedy. That is a story I… I won’t tolerate. Not when I’m here, with the knowledge of the truth.” He was not ashamed to cry, here. “You toiled alone for so long… all for nothing. For less than nothing – for your family’s killer’s dream. It’s too much, Kaldena. It’s… too sad. Don’t make me end your story again. Please.”
Temenos took the time to regain his composure. “I must go now to end Glacis’ forever storm. It will likely take a few days. But I’ll come see you again, before I leave.” He stood, preparing to leave Kaldena to her demons and her witless subordinates. “Remember – I neither need nor expect your help. Not with Arcanette, not even with Vide. You may leave them to me. Just… two things. No killing; no dying. Beyond that – your life is yours.”
Temenos navigated the ruins of Kaldena’s office – and her life – and left the way he came.
Chapter 2: To Work...
Notes:
Nope -- don't say anything. Just take it, my lost lambs.
Chapter Text
Three days.
That was the time Kaldena spent in a daze. Her office had been cleaned out by a bewildered group of squires, led by Cubaryi muttering the moniker of a certain inquisitor under her breath in a loop.
Not wanting to hear it, the captain had holed herself up in the forbidden shrine behind the stained glass.
Kaldena had eaten and slept poorly. She flipped through the Sanctum’s secret tomes without interest. Some of them she hadn’t bothered to read before.
At some point – she couldn’t really tell how long it’d been – she brushed over the pages scattered on the table that had not been bound into the Book of Night.
She’d known what they contained; had been responsible for their creation. And yet, as she looked this time, she felt something wash over her that hadn’t been there before – a miasma she couldn’t explain… or didn’t want to.
She felt sick, and ran from the chambers.
But that led her back to people. Dumb, useless, powerless people.
A dozen times a day Kaldena had mentally turned over the unscheduled meeting that became the second time her life had been destroyed. She tried to convince herself that it had all been a lie the inquisitor had cooked up. But as he’d said, she knew better. Too much made sense, and too well she knew his character, that there’d been no reason to spin such an elaborate ruse.
“The truth does not change whether we choose to believe it or not, foolish Kaldena,” she could hear him whisper in her mind. “But to carry its weight requires strength. You’re strong, aren’t you, Kaldena?” He would smile coldly.
Searching for another spot to avoid her problems, Kaldena slammed open a door to some unoccupied dungeons.
She was met with giggling.
She stared in the torchlight at two well-ranked knights passing around a large bottle of vodka.
At the sound of the door, both knights leaped from their stools. One fumbled the bottle, upon which the other caught it, managing not to spill.
“Gah! Who the hell–”
“Get out of the way, I can’t see–”
In a flash, Kaldena was upon them.
Their reflexes were awfully slow.
Kaldena wanted to relish the way their faces had turned to the color of the snow outside at the sight of her. But nothing gave her joy anymore, if anything ever had.
There was a certain decorum for addressing the captain, but neither of them could manage to make it spill from their stuttering mouths.
Kaldena scrutinized the quivering knights, then the bottle. She snatched it away, and sniffed.
“...Hey,” she said. “What’s it like? Drinking this?”
“D-d-drinking what, sir? I - I mean ma'am?”
Kaldena rolled her eyes.
The other guard smacked him. “Idiot!” He hissed.
“Perhaps I can hold your throat open and start pouring?” She said. “Maybe that will answer my question.”
The second knight either lost his mind or thought himself very clever. He smartened himself up and grinned. “Never partaken, Cap’n?” He said brightly. “Can’t say I’m surprised. Always a role model, you were. No shame.”
She whirled to him.
“Takes the mind offa things it does,” he rattled on, oblivious. “Gives you a funny feeling, like everythin’s a-okay. Some laugh, some cry – that’s just how it goes. Keeps you warm, too. How about it, Cap’n?”
She’d killed for less.
But she shrugged, because if what he said was true, it was as good an idea to her as any. She tilted her head back, the bottle pointing to the heavens.
It tasted like the med bay. In all the worst ways too. She coughed, slopping the foulness down her armor. “Fuck!”
The first knight somehow proved to be the more intelligent and grew increasingly pale. The second one laughed, as if his life, let alone his career, weren’t in dire straits. “Easy there, Cap’n. This isn’t tavern piss – it’s the real stuff. It won’t take much, ‘specially for a first-timer.”
If nothing else, she ought to kill him for keeping her from dying of alcohol poisoning. But the more she entertained thoughts of murder the more a familiar, nasty little voice would whisper in her skull. She sipped at the bottle with a grimace; maybe this would make it shut up.
What followed was a fair bit of hollering, some swings of swords that somehow didn’t result in any missing limbs, inappropriate use of the interrogation equipment, and trails of sick that were better off undiscovered. Not that Kaldena remembered much of it.
The next thing she knew, she was back in the forbidden shrine, the empty bottle in hand, having claimed it like some kind of trophy.
She felt blissfully numb.
Indeed, Kaldena had never drank before. She’d seen it as an indulgence and distraction at best. A completely unnecessary dulling of the senses and physical condition at worst. A risk she couldn’t afford. And in the past, spending she couldn’t afford, either, not when she could still remember what it was like to starve in the streets of Canalbrine – the closest large city to Crackridge – as a child stumbling through the world with no one to protect or nurture her. It had left her frugal, but covetous.
She wanted water, but didn’t want to get up from the ground.
The door leading outside opened. That could only be one person – no, two now, she corrected.
But it was the first. She supposed it was better than the alternative.
“Lady Kaldena!” Cubaryi entered, helm askew. “I’ve been searching all day – I looked here earlier but you weren’t – what is that smell?”
It wasn’t a dead body, because Cubaryi knew that smell well enough.
“Have – have you been drinking?” She sounded like she’d have been less mortified with a corpse.
Kaldena didn’t feel like replying, so she didn’t. She wished Cubaryi would leave her alone. Maybe there was nowhere here she could be alone.
“Lady Kaldena,” she sounded genuinely worried. “Ever since the visit by that dastardly hound, things have been… strange. You… You’ve been…”
Kaldena’s numbness was obliterated. There was fear. Despair. Then hatred – hatehatehateHATE–
Because Cubaryi was technically the closest person to her. But she was also the very last one who could understand. She was delusional – only concerned with how the gods could give them power, and managing to believe that was what they were achieving. As if the teachings of Aelfric or any others of the Eight could have any part in the pages strewn on the table. And the way she’d trailed after Kaldena, without question, all this time… Cubaryi was the only thing more pathetic than Kaldena herself.
“Get out,” Kaldena snapped.
Cubaryi froze in her approach. “...But – my lady–”
“I SAID GET OUT!” Kaldena screamed. She hurled the empty bottle. It crashed against the door, which Cubaryi retreated behind.
She was the last of the clan of light.
Yet every dark truth in the world had joined within her.
Kaldena left to go find more to drink.
Later, after waking again from stupor, she found a note pressed between her fingers and a new bottle.
Leave the Book of Night as-is. Our foe will abandon you without fanfare. She will likely have someone take what you have eventually, once she realizes there has been no progress. We have no choice but to let her, for now. More people will die, as much as it pains me, but the safest scenario will be to let her continue its completion until we are ready. Prevention won’t be enough. Only by allowing the Order to go through with their goal and winning the battle for the dawn can we ensure freedom from them. Just don’t let yourself be a part of them. I’ll be back for a friend, perhaps in one month.
-The hound
-
That month drifted by in a crawl. Cubaryi had, most unfortunately, taken to routinely scouring the building for any wayward alcohol. Kaldena couldn’t even take her life as compensation. Her office had been given makeshift refurnishings, but with no objective there were few tasks for her to do. Some days she would sit in her new, much less comfortable chair tracing lines in the brickwork. Sometimes she went to the training hall to bully squires.
Outside of the Book of Night, any tasks the captain normally was supposed to do she directed to Cubaryi instead. It would keep Kaldena from seeing her as often. When they would happen to meet, Kaldena would simply turn around and leave whence she came. She didn’t want to deal with her – neither to wrangle her into staying away from the pages nor to rectify the previous loss of temper.
Kaldena did not seem to want anything.
In one such avoidance she went down to the dungeons.
Since it had been a while since she’d heard screams other than her own, she moved on instinct to investigate.
She found one of the highest among the knights – judging by his cape – whipping a scraggly boy who looked no older than eighteen.
Since she hadn’t used her mouth in a while, Kaldena cleared her throat.
The screams abated, and the knight turned, unbothered by her presence. “Good day, Captain,” he said musically.
Kaldena glanced between the knight and the boy, who’s back dripped fresh blood from where he hung in chains. “...Commander. I trust the punishment meets the crime?”
“Oh yes, Captain,” he said smoothly, rolling the whip in his fingers. “Caught this one holding a little girl hostage. Held a broadsword to her neck, stolen from us, no doubt. Happens all the time, I’m afraid. Mad world we live in.”
The boy’s arms looked like they’d never lifted anything heavier than a book. Kaldena looked at his hands, seeing no calluses.
And this attitude – this clearly was a regular occurrence. So regular the knight commander assumed she was in the know about it. Which likely meant it went up the chain to Cubaryi.
So many deserve to die, she thought.
She still felt numb. But if one thing stayed with her it was how unsurprised she was to find this taking place here, under her watch.
And she recognized this knight now, from the naked grin on his face. This was neither an uncoordinated drunk nor a righteous do-gooder like Wellsley. She’d seen this one’s battles, and their remains. The victims torn limb from limb.
He’d more than earned his rank, and had both the strength and wit to wage war effectively. And now it was clear what his passion was.
This sacred knight was a legal murderer.
“...That’ll do, Commander. Fetch your sword. I expect you in the training hall in ten. It seems we could both use a real opponent. I want full contact from you.”
Most would see this as a dire punishment. Kaldena wasn’t sure if that was even what she was doing.
She really just wanted to hurt someone. And be hurt in return.
And evidently from his grin widening further, the knight commander felt the same – such was his bloodlust.
The knight offered her the whip, which she took after an incredulous pause, and strode up the stairs.
Kaldena threw the bloodied thing aside. A disgraceful weapon – good for nothing more than inflicting pain.
She turned to the boy and pulled out her sword.
His whimpers grew frantic through the gag that kept him from biting his tongue. Her sword gleamed in his eyes, before he shut them, waiting.
It was a moment that would stay with Kaldena on lightless nights.
She slashed the chains. Another puppet in strings. The boy fell into her opposite arm. As she’d suspected, he may as well have been a sack of potatoes for all it took to hold him. She lowered him to his knees and pulled out a knife, cutting the gag. The chains were cut but manacles still encased his wrists, so she held them out along the stone floor and carefully snapped them with her sword.
“Walk,” she ordered, pulling at his freed wrist.
Whips could dent bones, and with the amount of blood he was losing Kaldena wasn’t surprised that he couldn’t bring himself to speak through the pain. But as she pulled he walked.
“Stairs,” she said. The youth stopped short. She waited out his tears, and he slowly took the first step.
She’d have carried him if she could haul both him and her sword without aggravating his wounds. It was fortunate that he was managing this much.
The med bay was strategically placed adjacent to the dungeons.
As they entered Kaldena pinpointed the cleric. “Healer!” She barked.
Said cleric was a middle-aged man whose faith she suspected had been broken years ago since being given this post. He shuffled over, studied the youth’s back, and merely sighed as he took an old staff from the wall.
Such cases must have been equally regular, Kaldena thought as she sat the victim on a bed.
From the other side of the bay Ort had been bandaging a training wound on his own. He quickly strode over and saluted. “Captain –” he stopped at the teen, bewildered. “What… What happened here?”
This was good timing. “Ort. That will be for you to find out,” Kaldena said swiftly. “This is clearly a civilian. Look over his injuries with the cleric. Question him when he is responsive, and escort him from the premises with medical approval.”
Ort glanced between the parties in the room worriedly. “...Yes, Captain. As you wish.”
Kaldena could draw enough conclusions on her own, and some Ort was probably better off not hearing.
The cleric shook his head wearily. “Might take a few hours for that, Captain Kaldena. One untrained like this – boy’s not got much mana for me to work with. An apothecary would do faster.”
Right. A cleric’s healing used the body’s own strength. Still, it was far faster than natural healing. “Fine. Report here to me when you’re finished, Ort.”
Kaldena fled the med bay for the training hall, eager to see what this knight commander was made of – literally.
Half an hour was a long time to have a fight to the death. Or as near-death as they could reach, anyway. It occurred to Kaldena that as Captain she should keep better tabs on a murder-knight who could push her to such extremes. He was stronger than Cubaryi.
Her opponent had finally crashed into the wall, blood oozing from his head. A content grin lay upon his face nonetheless. Sick fuck.
“I believe this is the pot calling the kettle black, Kaldena,” the hound whispered to her brain.
Kaldena growled, feeling far less satisfied than she’d hoped, nevermind the dents in her armor, split lip, bruised nose and lacerated mainhand shoulder. She moved her other shoulder to replace her sword on her back, only to find it wouldn’t obey.
It had been a while since she’d broken her bones. And to think she hadn’t even noticed. If she hadn't knocked out the knight when she did, that could have led to a fatal mistake.
She’d sent the squires out beforehand. They would return and find the knight, seeing to it that he would receive a cleric’s attention. He would live, probably.
Not that he deserved to.
“And do you, Kaldena?”
She groaned. The head cleric wouldn’t be finished yet. She slipped to the forbidden shrine to wait in quiet agony.
Silent and dark. Lit not by windows but by the flickers of flame. The heretical chamber reminded her of home – for all that she’d had, and lost.
She spent the hours in tears.
When Kaldena gingerly exited the chamber and returned to the main building a voice crawled up her spine from below the stairs.
She would not run.
Kaldena sloughed down the stairs trying to move her shoulder as little as possible.
Temenos turned from where he’d been speaking to the receptionist. “Ah – Kaldena! I was just asking after you.” He bowed to Alicia and left her.
That’s Captain Kaldena to you.
Didn’t the pontiff teach you manners?
Know your place, hound –
“...Temenos,” Kaldena said dully.
“Oh my,” he said, giving her a clinical sweep with his gray eyes. “Were you mauled by a Black Panther? No, I suppose not; I don’t detect the scent of burnt flesh about you.”
“...If you mean to tell me you’ve sighted one in the area, I hope you know protocol requires us to organize an extermination party immediately,” she answered pointedly.
“I did not know, in fact. I suppose one getting into town would be a terrible occurrence. Truthfully, I have sighted them – in large numbers, even, not simply one. Their habitat is much closer than you know. But that was not a… ah… recent sighting.”
Stormhail was already treacherous, but Black Panthers were one monster that stood out as a more serious threat. Thankfully, they were very rare. Or were supposed to be.
More time travel shenanigans, she mused.
“Then I suggest you inform me of their location, so that we may manage their population.”
Temenos fingered his staff in thought. “Not a problem, Kaldena. But if you should find a book and a peculiar stone down there –” a book? A stone? Down where? “-- I would like you to hold them for me. They will be important for the coming battle. Other than that, just know that the place is extremely dangerous. Even for the honorable Godsblades. Shall we relocate?”
The matter of her broken shoulder aside, “Ort is waiting for me to debrief him. There was an… incident.”
“Ah,” Temenos said. “No need. I happened to find him just minutes ago.” A likely story. “He was recalcitrant about the matter, but I managed to get enough out of him and convinced him that I would relay the information to you – given that I came to see you anyway.”
Fine. She didn’t care. She shrugged her worse shoulder carelessly, making her grunt in pain.
Temenos frowned and held out a hand. “Allow me, Kaldena,” he said softly. He glowed softly. She hadn’t seen his technique before.
And she felt a rush – sheer vigor. Her wounds closed, her bones mended. Just like that, she was nearly back to normal.
Temenos gazed at her intensely. “No – we can do better than that…” He glowed again.
Kaldena positively overflowed with vitality. She doubted a full force blade strike would even make her bleed.
“...That wasn’t necessary,” Kaldena whispered. “You’ve drained yourself.”
He rubbed his temples as if trying to soothe a migraine. “...Outside, please. Let us walk.”
Outside? Where the wind cut to the bone day after day?
…Whatever. She was the one stuffed with power like an overflowing chalice while he looked ready to climb into bed.
Kaldena threw the doors open. Temenos followed sluggishly.
Sun.
Kaldena looked up and was nearly blinded by the First Flame. She hadn’t seen it in months. “...What did you do?”
Temenos eyed her ruefully. “Not been outside lately, have you? I know you’re hurting, but I don’t need you becoming a shut-in, Kaldena. I don’t recommend turning to alcoholism either. I found you in quite a state, last time.”
“Shut up.”
He sighed, enjoying the clear sky. “We’ve recruited Glacis. Long ago, she made a promise to protect Toto’haha. That promised time is almost at hand. Any storms you see will be natural, now.”
Kaldena looked northwest. The peak was visible, and clearer than she could remember it. “Why… did she do it?”
Temenos was quiet. “...Arcanette killed her children,” he said. “Glacis lashed out blindly, indiscriminately, in revenge – and grief – ever since. Much like you.”
It was warm, for Stormhail. But Kaldena shivered. “Okay – don’t… don’t start – please.”
Their steps took them to a bench off the side of the road. Kaldena made for it and sat, nevermind her energy. Temenos sat next to her, not bothering to disguise his relief.
“About earlier,” he began. “It was necessary.” The healing. “Or, at least, that’s how it felt to me.” He placed a hand on her healed shoulder, and Kaldena grew nervous. “I killed you. I shouldn’t have the chance to heal you after that. I could not help myself.”
Kaldena sat silently. Rays of brightness made the layers of snow gleam. Columns of ice dripped slowly off of buildings. Parents walked their errands leisurely while their children ran and tumbled, throwing snow and building sculptures. No one was in a hurry with no frozen waste pelting their backs. The storm had been stolen from Stormhail.
“What did Arcanette need with Glacis?” She said eventually.
“Nothing,” Temenos said, his voice edged in ice. “She merely represented a threat. The events that are to take place in Toto’haha are a part of Vide’s influence. Therefore, Glacis and the other creatures of legend are in the way. Something called ‘the Night of the Scarlet Moon,’ every four-hundred years, increases the influence of the Shadow, causing otherworldly monsters to appear on the island. Or so I suspect. I cannot find any other information on it. We are about five months away from it, now.”
“...Four-hundred years ago was when the battle between Kal and D’arquest took place,” Kaldena pointed out.
Temenos nodded from a more relaxed pose. “An obvious conclusion, yes. Being who you are, I’ve wondered what you know… but I won’t press you. I don’t really need more background. We know enough to stop it all – that I have faith in.”
Gratitude was a forgotten feeling. One he must never know, from her. “...I was too young to know much. And… I’ve never been back, since.”
“I understand,” Temenos said. “Perhaps… in the future, the Fellsun Ruins should be properly surveyed. Ah, that’s not its name, is it? Originally, that is.”
She shook her head. What were now called the Fellsun Ruins indeed had a true name given to it by the Kal. But they’d rarely had contact with the outside world. Their duty had been to keep the Flame secret.
Kaldena was the only one who knew that name, now.
She did not offer it to Temenos.
“Surveyed?” She snorted. “Treasure hunting, more like.”
“That does tend to happen, yes. I’ll find anthropologists I can trust. I have connections in academia – or I will, at any rate. I would see this done right. With respect. The deceased given their proper rites. The world should not forget the Kal and their story. But… if you would feel otherwise, I will do nothing. You… have that right.”
That was not something Kaldena was ready to think about. She never wanted to be ready for it, either.
“...There are more important things to do,” she said.
“Of course,” Temenos agreed. “This was something I’ve thought about for the future, when my investigation, and the oncoming battle, is over.”
The investigation. The battle.
She cleared her throat. “And how go your preparations?”
He flicked some snow. “Given that I already know the results from my investigations, you might say I have quite a bit of leeway, now. I had one, rather simple goal today, but it has been taken care of. Really, I just wanted to check up on you. I suppose my main objective is to spend as much time with my companions as I can, but they have their own missions that I need not interfere with. Granted, I do need to train. I possess the knowledge of spells and other techniques that I had before, but this body has not yet developed the mana to support them. Hence my little healing display and this shockingly comfortable bench.”
Kaldena had always thought Temenos to be another corrupt cleric. He enjoyed tormenting far too much, and had no fear of mocking the scripture. But his talents had been real, and that with his position of Inquisitor had made him the worst possible person for Kaldena to deal with. But now–
She’d been wrong. He was the real deal. He believed in saving people and seeing justice done. He’d been chosen by the gods and suffered unthinkable trials to learn the consequences for failure.
Arcanette. Cubaryi. The knights – murderers and protectors alike. The boy, whipped – likely for no reason at all.
And she – Kaldena. Captain of the Godsblades.
All a lie. Her whole life, her destiny – all in vain. For what reason had Father saved her?
She placed her head in her hands. “...I know… you healed me because you wanted to. But you still shouldn’t have. I… I’m not worth the plums.”
Let me die.
But he couldn’t. He – personally, emotionally – couldn’t. She understood.
She expected him to argue.
“...That is how you feel. That may even be what is true. I accept that. I won’t refute you.” He rubbed the top of her head. “Because if you feel that way, some part of me agrees. But it is also a chance to believe otherwise; for both of us. It is proof that this should not be the end. I cannot argue for you to live if you have nothing to support it with. Only an honest life will cure you now. And that chance is worth fighting for.”
Kaldena wallowed.
Heavy light peeked through her fingers, and she saw the sun was beginning to set.
She took it as a sign, and stood up. Temenos rose to join her.
Kaldena spoke up on their way back. “...What happens here – after I die?”
“I provide the results of my investigation to the courts and the Royal Family in Timberain,” Temenos said. “And the Sacred Guard is stripped of its authority, while the Church loses much face. And that must still happen, Kaldena,” he intoned softly. “Though, they never learned of Arcanette. I am debating if they ever should.”
Kaldena considered what it would take for the Sacred Guard to fall. It did not distress her the way it should have. “Arcanette is the truth – is she not, Inquisitor?”
“Point,” he conceded.
They returned through the doors to headquarters. Kaldena saw Ort’s face contort with relief at the sight of her. To be depended on so awoke some sense of shame in her.
She held out a hand to him, signaling Ort not to approach, yet.
Temenos pulled out a paper. “By the way – this belongs to you.”
Puzzled, she took the paper.
…That prick.
“Wellsley is a fine knight,” Kaldena said. “Why has an order been filed to transfer him as far away from here as possible in my name using my personal stamp?” She narrowed her eyes at him. With the events of today, she’d been hoping to assess the ranks and keep more Orts and Wellsleys on hand and fewer Cubaryis.
Temenos first smiled thinly. “I had my fine assistant provide me with your stamp. But don’t worry, you will find it exactly as you left it.” Then he glared. “And I am removing Crick from your presence – for his protection. I hope not to repeat this with anyone else.”
‘Killed.’
Some part of her that had been built up that day slipped away to the shadows.
Crick Wellsley, along with his friend Ort had been, dare she say, enjoyable to train. And she’d anointed them a mere two months ago. She’d felt a small eagerness to watch over Crick’s career.
But if he’d felt something was amiss in these headquarters, perhaps due to Temenos’ arguments, he might have investigated. He might have found the forbidden shrine. He would not have wanted to believe what he would discover.
Cubaryi would have been happy to kill him.
Kaldena wouldn’t have been happy.
But she would have done it all the same.
She could see it all playing out. And she wouldn’t have relished it – she would have made it quick – but she would still have killed Crick to keep her secrets.
And she’d never known, before, which people Temenos valued, or if he’d valued anyone at all. But clearly, he valued Crick very dearly. She could believe that, now.
Kaldena swallowed. She met Temenos’ gray eyes with as much sobriety as she could muster.
“...Very well. You have my word, Temenos. He will be safe from me. Crick Wellsley did not deserve death for the sake of my… of my failures.”
He stared back.
Then he looked very tired.
He said no more, and left.
She watched him leave through the door as Ort approached her.
“...How has Temenos seemed to you of late, Ort?” She asked without turning to him.
He wore many concerns beyond this one. “...Different, Captain. I’m not sure I can explain it. He feels more… capable, somehow, and desperate, if anything. But also… open. Kind, even, in ways I never knew him to be. I think the pontiff’s death has changed him – they were like father and son.”
“So you say,” she agreed.
“He… said he would provide you my report, Captain?” He said worriedly.
“He did, Ort. Be free from guilt. The hound’s nose finds all.” She faced him. “Do you wish to add anything?”
He grimaced, but trusted her when he shouldn’t have. “How could this happen?” He spoke in despair. “The young man had simply been enjoying the weather, reading a book outside! This – there was no precedent for this – I… I don’t understand, Captain… Surely there must be action taken – justice…”
“And who, if not us, is going to deliver justice?” Kaldena reproached quietly. She considered the things Temenos had said today. “...It will come, Ort. You will understand, soon. I need you to be patient until then. You… will know everything, then.” She hesitated, but placed a hand on his armored shoulder. Just for a moment – then she released it. “Ort – I had meant to give you a new assignment, before the inquisitor… distracted me.”
He’d looked assured; placated. His faith would crumble once they were in Timberain. For now – he stood, prepared to receive orders.
“I’m appointing you as my personal guard,” she declared. “You will accompany me and take point unless I dismiss you, effective tomorrow at first light.”
He hastily saluted. “Yes, Captain Kaldena. It is an honor!”
Kaldena considered saying it now. “I want you to stay away from Cubaryi, Ort, as much as possible. She is… compromised.”
His eyes widened.
“If it so happens that you must interact with her,” Kaldena continued, “be as cordial and respectful as you can. Avoid upsetting or contradicting her. And disengage, if you must. The same goes for anyone you feel wary of. Use your instincts – but I want you to avoid confrontations. Do not go trying to deliver justice. It is not the right time.”
Cold sweat had appeared on his brow. “Y-yes, Captain.”
Kaldena wondered if the stars would be visible from her window. Maybe she would be free from nightmares this eve. “...Then we should retire, Ort. It has been a long day.”
-
Go beneath the wall outside the main gate. Below the bridge you will find the Infernal Castle. Come prepared for battle. Do not go alone – but take only the expendable. If you choose to leave this be, we chosen ones will see to it at a later time.
-The hound
So read the next note.
Kaldena glanced through her rosters, quickly singling out Cubaryi and the vicious knight commander. If a small force was enough for Temenos and his companions for whatever fighting was in store, then Kaldena would not tempt fate by altering the battle conditions. She had no idea what they were in for – a large force might be completely unsuitable. And with three in the frontline and accounting for some flexible positioning from Cubaryi’s magic the last pick should likely be a cleric. She flipped to them. There were several to choose from, but she needed one that was both battle-hardened and, as Temenos put it, expendable.
And Kaldena did not know the characters of the clerics well enough – had never bothered to learn.
She sighed from her desk and stood, having come up with three clerics with sufficient battle experience.
She took the names down to the entry hall. “Alicia,” she said.
The nun jumped, sending papers fluttering.
Kaldena should have expected this. It really hadn’t been her intention to frighten the secretary so. Alicia was positioned to receive visitors, not to be accosted by her superiors. Perhaps she could use a mirror.
“Y-Y-Yes – Captain Kaldena?” She said as if Kaldena were about to drag her to the dungeons.
Kaldena considered what her behavior might mean. She approached the desk slowly.
“I need you to assess the characters of these three for me,” she said softly, surrendering a paper with the names to the desk.
Alicia took any excuse to avert her eyes from the captain. She carefully appraised the paper through her spectacles.
“...Terrence is a fine cleric,” she said quietly. “He is happy to serve the Sacred Flame and upholds the scriptures. Though he is somewhat… ignorant, despite having been stationed here.”
Not expendable, thought Kaldena.
“Romanov is capable, but prefers to avoid conflict. He smuggles weapons and sells them on the side. Furthermore, he takes as many field assignments as he can just so he can avoid being here. He can’t stand this place, but he doesn’t care enough to do anything about it.”
That was a ‘maybe.’ But there was a high chance he wasn’t here, and Kaldena didn’t want to wait.
Alicia paled before the third name, raising Kaldena’s alert. “...Speak freely, Alicia.”
She swallowed. “Ouranos comes from a high-born family. He is powerful in more ways than one and… he… predates on the women. The female knights know to avoid him, so he often targets the pages, using the excuse of treatment so that they expose themselves. And… sometimes the… other staff.”
She trembled.
Looks like we have a winner, Kaldena thought grimly.
Kaldena was a killer, not a counselor. And if she couldn’t kill the man – really, Temenos – then what else was she supposed to do?
She coughed. “Then I shall be selecting him for a highly dangerous field assignment.” An assignment that, hopefully, would provide the easy solution.
As Kaldena took back the paper something in her squirmed uncomfortably. “...Alicia,” she spoke up, “your keen, discerning eyes are invaluable to us. If you ever need… assistance – let me know. Or let Ort know. Please,” she added, the word tasting foreign.
Once safe from all other eyes, Alicia peered through her spectacles at Kaldena’s departing cape. Assessing – judging.
-
“We’ve received a report,” Kaldena announced, “from a source I consider reliable, of the local point of origin for Black Panthers and other monsters of elevated threat. Furthermore, the site is unnervingly close to the outside gates of Stormhail. Therefore, in accordance with Protocol-Three, Section-Four, a knightly hunting party has been assembled.” She strode between the small gathering of knights plus a cleric whose distracted gaze wandered over her like a tide of contaminated swamp. “You have been chosen –” she lingered each on Cubaryi, the knight responsible for whipping the young man, whose name was Edmund, and Ouranos the cleric “--because…” Kaldena swallowed. “...Because you rank among the best of us. Because you have proven yourselves capable of no hesitation when doing what needs to be done.”
Because you – and I – deserve to die.
Cubaryi, looking like a starved child about to be handed bread, raised her hand. Kaldena jerked her head at her.
“Captain – it sounds as though we should have a larger force.”
Normally, this was a fairly significant oversight. “A small force will make for a quick retreat, if necessary,” Kaldena replied, not intending to do any such thing, “the site has not been scouted, but it is underground, so I do not believe a large force is suitable. Enough – we’re moving out.”
The Infernal Castle was hardly an unknown site, although the particular name certainly was.
“Oh this place,” Ouranos said condescendingly, waving a torch at the bridge. “Scholars are often complaining about it. Won’t send any proper surveyors. Something called ‘The Legend of the Eaten Eight’, where everyone vanished without a trace. No one comes here with eight or more now. How foolish – this place is deserted as a tomb, always has been.”
“It is true that no monsters have been found here, when they are normally abundant in virtually all unpopulated locations,” Edmund spoke softly. “And yet… there is something at work here. Something powerful and dark. I can feel it… yes. This will be fun.”
Those who delved deep in its ways could eventually feel the Shadow themselves, Kaldena’s father had once said. A part of her had hoped that Temenos was having her on – but no.
They didn’t need to go far. “This bridge has always led to nowhere,” Cubaryi said, after they’d traversed the length.
Kaldena waved the light over the edge. The abyss gazed back at her, with no end in sight. She stepped off the bridge and picked up a rock, flinging it so that it fell near the center.
They listened.
Plink.
“...Sixteen meters or so. Cubaryi – cut the bridge in the center.”
They all stepped off while Cubaryi’s sword gleamed like ice and flung a frozen blade up and through the middle, neatly slicing the wood and rope.
Since Cubaryi craved praise from only one person Kaldena made sure not to give it to her. “An exquisite performance from an exquisite lady,” Ouranos crooned with soft claps, to Cubaryi’s disgust.
Kaldena stared down the fallen bridge – now a makeshift ladder. “Edmund – vanguard,” she ordered.
“Yes…” he hissed eagerly, climbing down without testing for weight, his torch deftly held in one hand. Kaldena wouldn’t be responsible for what would happen to him if he set the bridge on fire.
She went second, followed by Cubaryi, then Ouranos, who made a noise of disappointment at taking the rearguard.
“Oh yes… now we’re getting somewhere,” Edmund waved around at the paths that lay before him, littered with skeletons. Kaldena tried not to think about how they might resemble the Fellsun Ruins.
“Some of the texts in the… in – our – library –” Cubaryi spluttered, nearly mentioning the Forbidden Shrine, “do say that this is part of the Pit of D’arquest…”
“A fanciful claim,” Ouranos scoffed, “however some time ago the Order had a high priest who disappeared in this vicinity… his last words were simply… ‘To the Infernal Abyss.’ Most unnerving.”
They took a standard two-prong formation: Edmund taking the right-side vanguard – easier, since everyone was right-handed, while Kaldena took the left, more difficult side. Cubaryi in the middle could support both the vanguard and rearguard as needed, which was brought up by the backline caster, Ouranos.
They cautiously advanced into the dark.
The skeletons decreased along the path, despite signs of human construction in the pit. Twice Kaldena swore she’d caught movement in her sight, but found nothing upon turning her torch but jumping shadows.
An axe whiffled through the air, knocking her torch out of her hands.
At once, Cubaryi flung her own torch ahead and readied her sword.
There was a reptilian hiss as a scaly tail swiped at the light, snuffing it out. The shadows deepened.
The Black Panther managed to get far too close to her. It had blended with the shadows until it was well within striking distance, then it’s body lit in blue lightning all at once. It screamed and was on her in a flash and a boom like thunder. Kaldena howled with exertion, holding her great sword by the hilt and blade between the panther’s jaws and her throat. Sparks flew about her face, her hair, her hands – burning. BurningburningBURNING–
Kaldena kicked with a spike her boot, but the panther didn’t let up. She kicked again, and with a heave of her arms, finally forced it off. She readied her sword –
–Only to taste dirt. Then the blood in her mouth. Her vision swam from where her forehead had hit the ground after being tackled from behind, more sparks flying.
The second panther hid… in the shadow of the first… she thought dimly.
She heard a blade tear through the darkness from behind her, sending a shower of light magic. “Captain!” Cubaryi shouted.
But Black Panthers had an uncommon weakness. “Leave them to me!” Kaldena shouted, rising to her feet, bathing her sword in Shadow that pushed back at the flickers of the panthers. “Take right!” Their torches continued to dwindle. “LIGHT!” she yelled for the cleric.
Ouranos was about a half-second slower on the uptake than she would have liked. A ball of light brightened the cavern above them. It would last the battle, but if both his mana and their torches ran out, they would be screwed.
A parade of whispers towered above them at the intrusive bright thing. Kaldena looked up for a moment, but it was enough.
“Caster! Dark Elementals above!” she cried, swinging her sword at a panther, which simply leapt out of reach.
At her miss, Kaldena’s battle instincts told her to immediately move out of the way, as indeed the second panther struck out from behind when the first had retreated. It only grazed her, but the shock sent through her was not minor as her nervous system trembled in agony. The wound likely cauterized, so at least she wouldn’t bleed out. The pain brought her back to her knees, however, allowing the first panther to go for a killing stroke.
Kaldena saw it all happen in her mind’s eye beforehand – and through pain the she lifted her sword from the ground.
The panther twisted on her blade with a screeching cry. The crackling aura surrounding it blinked – then returned to darkness.
Kaldena shook it off her sword and turned, searching for the other panther. She blocked it on the left side, where she was weaker.
You fight like a human, she thought grimly. The panther paced a safe distance away. It had missed it’s last, good chance. Now it had to stall her.
Kaldena couldn’t let that happen, so she charged. But her heavy armor and weapon wouldn’t match the panther’s agility. It danced out of her reach.
She made a few more attempts, letting the panther get comfortable with its position.
Three times was the charm, she thought. She heaved her sword over her shoulder with only her right hand, while at the same time her left hand darted forward.
The panther cried out as its legs were bound in tendrils of Shadow. Kaldena roared, and still one-handed, brought her sword down for the finish with a sickly crunch.
Kaldena looked towards the right picture of the battlefield, where Cubaryi slashed at from behind and Edmund parried off the front blow of a –
“Lizardking,” Ouranos whispered as he navigated to Kaldena and shakily held out a glowing staff, letting her weeping nerves and burnt flesh rest. “Fucking Lizardkings –”
“Ancient Lizardkings,” Kaldena corrected him.
“Holy fucking mother of Aelfric’s tits–”
“Enough, cleric!” She snarled. “Get it together – it’s over, but only for now! Do not drop your guard!”
And because the Universe loved proving her right, they were surrounded by rumbling growls. But these were the sounds of canines – not felines like the panthers.
The loudest of them came from somewhere in the darkness – and was at least three meters off the ground at it’s origin.
“GET BACK IN FORMATION!” Kaldena screamed.
-
Kaldena limped through the snow, dropping her sword at the mouth of the stairs leading down into hell. She couldn’t carry it any more. Not if she hoped to get Cubaryi, unconscious and bleeding from her back, through the gate to Stormhail. She’d have to come back for it, if it was still there.
Edmund, behind her, did the same as he lugged the limp Ouranos.
It had been a tactical call. Carrying their swords and the wounded back up the bridge left her beaten bones and muscles, mended back together by Ouranos so many times she’d lost count, in a storm of pain, but they couldn’t afford to leave them down and lose their ability to defend from further attacks. Now that they were out, they’d have to take that risk.
“Cheers, Captain,” Edmund heaved, spitting blood. “Helluva ride.”
Kaldena didn’t know why she hadn’t left them all in that pit. The Book and Stone were safe in her pack – not that she’d had time to examine them.
Against Kaldena’s better judgement – none died that day.
Personn (Guest) on Chapter 1 Tue 21 Jan 2025 09:14PM UTC
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