Cleanse.

Such a specific word. It did not mean to heal. Nor did it mean to purify, not exactly. It’s meaning, in as much as it could be defined, did not refer to waving a glowing gem and having flesh heal, knit itself together or drive out toxins and poison. No, to cleanse… was to excise. To cut out the bad part. Burn away what was infested. That was what cleanse meant.

At least, that was what Michael understood it to mean, from the orc.

“I’m afraid I’m going to need more details before I say yes or nay, sir.”

“Hmm. You are not of my faction and even if you were… I am the one asking for help. Even in barter. My name is Kelunad. You may refer to me as such.”

“I will. And you can call me Michael.”

“Only if the bargain is struck, child.” The orc smiled.

Well, I tried.

“There is sickness in my faction. But before I start. What do you think my faction represents, child? You who have chosen the Ascentionalists.”

“Uhm, battle, pretty much. I mean, I have a couple of friends in there. Three, actually. And Alex said that even though people call them battle maniacs, they’re actually right. All Martials love confrontation. It’s their preferred method of learning. And growing too, I guess. Leveling? I’m trying to say that the Martial faction is the side of Gnosis that attracts all those that want to do, rather than learn.”

“Do, rather than learn. I admit, the drive to act is part of what I wished to instill in them. Yet not described as such. But no, child. This is not what I ask. I want to know what you think my faction exists for? What do you think lies at the core of it?”

That was a little too philosophical for Michael, but he tried his best.

“I’m not sure, but if I were to guess… I’d say Martials represent the driven part of mages. No, the drive within a mage. It’s that part of us that makes us actually want to use what we’ve learned, to perfect it. Beyond academic purposes. Is that… close to the truth, Kelunad?”

“Closer.” He nodded. “Yet not the truth itself. I know the history of Martials. The faction was founded before it had a reason to be founded. As a safe-haven for all those who saw red. For all those that tasted blood when they saw it across the battlefield. For those whose magic got them riled up enough that they wished for nothing more but to never stop unleashing it. And finally, for those who wanted to control such urges.”

Michael remembered his first fight against Erea. How he had lost it. He guessed having a home for people like that, those that couldn’t get it back together… it wasn’t a bad idea.

“I see you’re remembering the battle craze yourself. Yes, that was how it started. But with effort and blood, we have modelled ourselves. Carved out of former selves the new individuals we wanted to be. And in doing so, over the centuries, we discovered the true reason to be a Martial.”

“What’s that?”

“Will.” The orc grunted, eyes alight. “It is what this faction is made of. What it is and what it wished to instill in all Martials. The will to keep going. To fight. Yourself and your enemies both. They were pragmatists, my predecessors. They knew life is strife. And yet they also knew, from their predecessors, that one should wish for more than that. So they honed this faction into its ultimate form. A place where a |Berserker| could learn control. Where a |Squire| could learn courage. Where one could shape themselves, through will and magic and blood and sweat. There is power in adversity. Levels. Yet there is greatness in never stopping to grow. In never accepting one’s Level. One more fight, one more victory, until death takes us or magic is undone.”

The orc had never stood up, never once in his speech. He had never even raised his voice. Yet Michael felt like he was looking at a giant. At a general, ready to lead him into battle. Like the president he never had. Like a legend.

But then, the orc grew smaller. Energy decreasing, shoulders hunching. He looked at Michael and his smile was old and weary.

“And that is what we were. For a time.”

“If you don’t mind me saying, sir, the method might be different, but your goal sounds surprisingly like the Ascentionalist one.”

“I do not, for it is the truth. Long ago, the founders fought each other over the proper method. Their goals were, I am told, almost the same.”

“I see. But, how could I help?”

“Hmm. First. The young elf, whose heart beats for you. What do you make of her?”

“Oh. …uhm-”

“I do not ask for your feelings. I ask what you think of her as one of my children.”

“I see. I guess I can really see Erea fitting into one of those categories that you’ve mentioned. Blood ready. Berserker, almost.”

“Good. I see that too. And yes, she is a good fit for my faction. But do you think she will be helped here?”

Michael thought about it and… no. The other Martials he had seen seemed to be the types of individuals who wouldn’t have a problem with that. They might not cherish that behavior, though some might, but not actually oppose it. Out of all Martials, only Alex kept Erea in check.

That’s it!

“Not by the majority. I agree that the Martials won’t help her as a faction, but there are still some good people left. Alex, for example. He manages to keep her mostly in check. And he leads a team. He’s the most level-headed Martial I know.”

“He is also not one of my children.”

“…what?!”

“He may be in name. Affiliation. But he is not a true Martial.”

“I… don’t get it. He was one of the Martials trying to recruit me. He actually believes in the cause.”

“I know. And yet, his true love is not combat. Neither physical, nor metaphorical. His true passion is to lead. This, he does well. But the fire, the maddening flame that drives all Martials to become greater? To always fight, either themselves or others? He shares not Erea’s madness. But neither does he wish to never stop striving. He is not a faux Martial and not a real one either.”

Michael felt hurt in Alex’s stead. If his friend heard that, from the head of his faction no less… Michael had no idea how devastated he would be.

“I may be wrong, child. But I seldom am. If you wish to help him, help my faction. Though only in a general sense. If you wish to help him personally, guide him. There may be a better faction for him yet. Though I do not know of it.”

“I will. I’ll try.”

“Good.” He nodded. “That is the current state of my faction. Those who should be here are left without help. Those that help should not be here. In between lies a sea of fools, who delude themselves into thinking that battle prowess equates being a true Martial. This is where I ask you to come in.”

“Kelunad. Explain it to me again, please. Why can’t you help?”

The orc sighed.

“I am seen as a minor god among my faction. I am… removed from them. Long have I pondered their decay, that I have inherited from the one before me. This sickness. It is old. It has grown gradually. It had taken over long before I came into power. And when I did, I tried to fight it. I have fought those who argued against change. Fought the strong as well as the weak. Fought everyone who dared stand in the way of change. And I have won. And lost. For this disease was not in specific individuals. But in their mentality. I was then faced with a choice. I could leave this faction and start a new one. But the disease would win. The Martials would become a parody of themselves, insulting every one who came before them. I could kick them all out. But they would simply form a new faction. Martials in all but name. I could order them, rule them, have them act only as they should. Yet they would defy me, every which way. And after I pass, they would return to their old ways with a vigor. Or… I could kill them. Kill them all. That was what the blood whispered to me then. …I am glad I did not.”

“Me too.” Michael faintly said.

“Left with no choice, I put a distance between me and them. Retreated, after besting everyone who could even look me in the eye. I remained a removed god. A distant legend. Rarely have I involved myself in the doing of my children. For I saw no way of helping them. Until now.” He smiled.

“Kelunad, I’d love to help, but that’s a really high ask. Even if I knew how, why me? Why do you think I’m able to, when you weren’t?”

“Because… the blood sang to you too. But beyond the blood, Gnosis sang to you. Child of power. Lover of Martials. In you I see what I failed to do. You may fail as well. Yet in you I would place my trust.”

Awfully cryptic.

“You fail to understand.” He laughed. “Good. Some things are beyond words.”

“Then you know I’m the right person for the job? Wait… is it a Skill?”

“Partly. And an instinct. Such things you learn, with age.”

“Alright. But how would I help?”

“By doing what I say. There is no plan now. There will be. There is no situation in which to interfere. There will be.” He shrugged. “I will guide you.”

“And they will listen to me because…”

“Because I speak to you. Surely there is a word or concept from your world, to describe the messenger of a God. Even though, it must not seem that you carry my message.”

“A prophet. You want me to become a prophet.” He said and the orc laughed. “I’d better not get the Class.”

“Not unless you wish to.”

“Alright. Then I guess, this is it. I’ll wait for orders and then I’ll do what you want me to, right?”

“Not always. My judgement failed. Perhaps… I will only tell you when to act. How to act will be of your own making.”

It wasn’t exactly the greatest plan ever, but Michael could see himself doing it. Yes, his plate was just getting fuller, but this… meeting did fall quite nicely into his ‘get stronger, get better’ plan. And the Martials were ok with him. He… liked their spirit, as they said. It would help an entire faction. Help Erea and Alex and Bob. It would mean an in with another faction head.

Yet, Michael did want to also receive something in the here and now.

“Might I ask what I will receive for this grand task?”

“What you will receive other than what you have just thought?” Kelunad smiled. “I am not as versed as other faction heads, yet I still lead a powerful faction. I care not for making offers. What is it you desire?”

“Tutoring? How quickly do you believe you could help me rise?”

“Rise.” The orc laughed. “Yes, definitely one of mine. For as long as you help me, child, I will teach you Spells. You need not spend time with me. Real time, that is. My Skill will help with that.”

“Right. Good. Then, information. I have need to ask you about something, since I’m guessing only someone on your level could know. There is apparently a grand secret being discussed among-“

“No.”

“…sorry?”

“I know what you ask. No.”

“Right. Then… there is a shadowy faction in Gnosis. They tried to recruit me. Could you protect me from them?”

“I see them.” He sighed. “The nuisance. We do not often tangle. I will not directly interfere, for my weight could upset the balance, but they will not harm you. You have my word.”

“Thanks. Can I also ask if you know anything else about them, like-“

“No. Two wants so far, child. I will allow one more. That is the limit of what I will offer.”

“But-“

“Beyond all the other advantages being my agent grants, you will also receive tutoring from the head of a faction. This you do not receive from your own faction. Protection from an entire other faction. And one more thing. That is plenty.”

Almost managed to piss off the chief orc Michael, way to go.

“Sorry. In that case… There are probably so many things I should ask for, but I can’t think of any right now. So… can I ask for a favor at a later date?”

“A… favor?”

“…yeah?”

The boom of laughter nearly made Michael fall off his log.

“A favor!” the orc exclaimed. “The audacity. Good spirit, child. Great spirit. Yes, a favor. I accept.”

“Good. Then I guess, this is the start of a- wait. But how will they know to listen to me? Would they just know that I’m your pupil?”

“No… Hmm. Tell me. Is the Gnosis rumor mill as powerful as it was before?”

“I’m not from around here, so I don’t know, but yeah. I guess. Pretty quick, from what I saw.”

“Then I shall take care of it. Is what was discussed enough for you?” he asked, hand raised.

“It is. Looking forward to working with you, Kelunad.”

“As do I. Bargain struck, Michael.”