Grand Duchy of Wyzkia
Ⰳⱃⰵⰴⰸⰹ Ⰴⱆⰽⰰⱅ Ⱎⱏⰹⰸⰽⰹⱁⱃ
Grędzi Dukat Wyzkor
Vis e fidelitate efflorescit
Four days after the Night of the Bloody Moons
On the road to Świątniki Górne
A camp
"Investigators? Mercenaries?", the red haired boy seemed to ask, a little absentmindedly. A few good moments of silence and hesitation followed. "We usually do not work with private contractors... but under these circumstances, and especially if her Excellency has heard of your company... we will make an exception. "It is an honor to meet you then, mister Rogaliski, and sir Couroisier. I am Rafal Warensko, Baron of Opalinski, and with me are my comrades from the the Order of the Paladins, Krzyszczan Leszyk Tylutk, Count of Markin, Julana Gwilemina Twaróg, Countess of Bednorz, and Felicity, a squire of our order." Rafal then turned around to look at the girl that he had just mentioned, clearly still not having recovered from the horrifying news that he and his comrades had just received. "I'm sorry to hear that.. I really am.", he told her in a low voice. His expression made it all too obvious that this was not the first time in his life when he had been faced with news of his friends and comrades having died horrible deaths. "But you have nothing to blame yourself for, Felicity. You saved those children, and obeyed your paladin's orders. You have followed the tenets of our Order, protected the innocent, and you have been loyal to your superiors. I'm sure the Great Table sees it that way too. And you have also made sure that Ignatius has survived. Despite the death and suffering you experienced, you should be proud of yourself. Our fallen brothers and sisters will be remembered. And the Traitor... I'm sure that she will receive what she deserves. But it would be best not to dwell on it. We have a mission now, and we need to focus on it first." Rafal gently put his hard on her shoulder, in a reassuring gesture. "And I am sorry that you have been forced into a mission so soon. You should have been given the time to grieve and to process what has happened. But I'm sure that Paladin Maria would be proud of you. For saving those children, and for continuing to serve the Order."
Taking a deep breath as if to calm himself down, Rafal looked at the others. "With only the three of us I was planning to camp here and then continue our way in the morning, but with the numbers we currently have, a camp in the middle of nowhere wouldn't be enough. We still have some time before the last light of the sun disappears, I believe that we can make it to the nearest village if we rush a little. We will dismantle our camp and move as soon as possible."
A little later
The town of Łómyśl
The nearest settlement wasn't that far away, just as Rafal had claimed. Only one of the paladins, Julana, was flying on her gryphon, acting as a scout, while the rest of the group was riding on the ground, moving forward at a speed that allowed both the horses and the gryphons to advance together. But as their approached their destination, hoping to find a place where they could take a break and rest before moving further towards the city and towards danger.. they soon realized that something was wrong. Something was really wrong.
The town was quiet... far too quiet. It was almost night now, and the sun was slowly but surely falling behind the horizon, staining the sky above in orange and crimson, as if dying flames were burning it... while the darkness of the night and the pale light of the stars slowly advanced. And yet, the town should have been filled with the sounds of people rushing to their homes, the chimes of bells announcing the end of the day, the rustle of the market closing, the chattering of the faithful leaving the small local temple. But there was nothing. Not a sound, not a breath. And the town was empty… except for the countless bodies lying on the ground, which they were able to see as soon as they entered. It was as if they had all fallen asleep, on the streets, in their homes, in the temple. But this was no sleep... the silence and the coldness could only mean one thing. Death had embraced this town.
And in the pale light of the twilight, a lone figure was walking. It was as if he was meant to be there... he wasn’t breathing, and the chillness of the ever-approaching night was nothing for his cold body. He was wearing long, clerical-like black robes, with crimson colored symbols and letters sewn into them, marking him as a cultist of Invidia, and a black hooded mantle, covering most of his head, and hiding his face. And yet that wasn’t all. It was difficult to notice, with the dark hood over his head, and with the large sleeves and cuffs, but something was just barely shining in whatever sunlight there was left. A metallic collar was bound around its neck, the remains of handcuffs around his wrists, and legcuffs around his ankles, all of them made as if they had come straight from a torture chamber, tight enough to not allow any escape, but not tight enough to remain in place constantly, biting deeply into the wearer’s skin with each movement. And bound to all of them were the near broken remains of the chains that had once held him restrained to something, just a few links for each of them, but enough to cause an eerie clinking sound every time he moved.
He seemed to lack a purpose or a goal, just walking aimlessly through the streets, but eventually he stopped next to a body that was lying down. He looked at it for a few moments, before silently getting down on one knee next to it and starting to whisper something. A small magical circle appeared in front of his hand, and for a moment, a vague scent of lavender took over the town... right before the mage heard the sound of a sword being unsheathed.
As the black robed figure slowly stood back up and turned around, he was able to see what he had missed while he was focused on his spell – the arrival in the town of the ragtag group of knights, mercenaries, and an archbishop. Rafal had been the first to act, jumping down his gryphon and preparing his weapon, unsheathing an old sword, the only peculiar detail about its appearance being its jagged blade. The other paladins also prepared their weapons, albeit a bit more hesitatingly.
The mysterious figure turned around to look at the young knight, not seeming to care that a sword had been unsheathed. “Knights...”, a boy’s voice was heard, the stringent disgust seeping into it all too obvious. “Always misunderstanding, always jumping at the smallest opportunity to prove their valor, and their honor, no matter how much suffering they might create.” Rafal was clearly taken aback by this, but hearing the hooded figure only seemed to make him angrier. “How dare you? What have... what have these people ever done to you? What possibly could have driven you to... to kill an entire town? How could you bring so much suffering and pain and feel no remorse for it? You’re...just like those demons from the war. Monsters like you should be burned in the streets!”
The cultist, and the necromancer, as that much was obvious about him, said absolutely nothing for a few moments, before he took down his hood, revealing his messy black hair, his very pale skin and crimson eyes, that almost seemed to shine with the final light of the twilight slowly dying around them. “...You never understand... no one ever does. Heroes and knights, always so brave, always so beloved... and yet you... you’re just as much of a monster as I am It’s not fair... it’s not fair... it’s not fair...” Something like a small cloud of black smoke appeared around his left hand, and it materialized into a serpent, dark, with eyes like red rubies, coiled around his arm, and angrily hissing. "Your leader here is too much of a hero to understand..", the necromancer said in a cold voice, looking at the others who were behind Rafal. "Leave. Leave now and never look back. Or you will regret it."
