"Priestess Evelyn I must protest these orders!"

"The orders are final, Lady Elin."

Elin Folcey, knight of the Order of Idrin, stood before the desk of Priestess Evelyn. She had long lost any military composure. Her hands were flat on the desk and she was leaning forward, desperately making her case.

"I'm a knight! A paladin-select! I should be here, fighting! Not in the Town of Letun! What good is a knight in the safe-zone?"

"You must understand your situation has changed," Priestess Evelyn said cooly.

"I can't do this! Please hear me, Priestess! Do not take me from the front lines! There are plenty who can take the visitor to safety. There are monthly marches to the town for supplies, surely he can be taken by one of them!"

"The time table is too far out. The risk is unacceptable. He's not here on his own accord and we have a responsibility to ensure his safety."

"Will I be allowed to return once I've delivered him?"

"You will recieve a written communication in Letun regarding further orders."

"Please! Priestess!"

"Show some discipline, paladin-select!" Priestess Evelyn bared her teeth for a moment.

The sudden abmonishment shocked Lady Elin. Having never seen Priestess Evelyn use such a stern tone, she shakily returned to a dignified military posture. Elin's lip trembled.

The priestess's face was harder than some of her opponent's have been.

"Your orders are to escort Walter Alivs to the town of Letun within the next five days."

"Yes, ma'am."

"You are to protect him to the best of your ability."

"Yes, ma'am."

"You are not to take advantage of the curse and abuse him in any way."

"I would never--"

"The only answer I require from you is the affirmative!"

"Yes, ma'am. I will not take advantage of the curse, ma'am."

"You will not argue these orders any futher."

"Yes, ma'am."

"This is a writ to the supply depot releasing the needed supplies and horses for the trip. Go to them, pack the horses, and leave forthwith."

Priestess Evelyn passed a piece of parchment over the desk. Elin Folcey recieved it with both hands then returned to being a rigid example of training.

"Yes, ma'am."

A beat of silence passed.

"Now, paladin-select."

"Yes, ma'am!"

Elin Folcey blinked a few times to clear her eyes. She gave the priestess a snappy salute, turned on her heel, and with practiced military movements marched respectfully from the tent.

Several minutes passed. The priestess only stared at the entrance to the tent the entire time.

“Sister Lora.”

Sister Lora recognized the tone of voice Priestess Evelyn was making. It was the tone she used after she made a hard choice, a choice that would be detested by the public, so Lora would have to be deceptive and secret.

“Yes, ma’am?”

The priestess said nothing until she sat back down at her desk. She did not address her paperwork in front of her. She only stared ahead blankly as if looking at something far away.

“Follow them. Examine the boy and see if he shows any potential. We might have overlooked something. If he shows any kind of heroism or powers report back immediately so I can address the situation.”

“Yes, ma’am. I will go at once.”

Sister Lora knew not to leave yet, however. The order was too clean, too nice.

“Hire your mercenary contacts. Use them to wrangle some monsters and stage an attack. We have to test the boy to make sure he wasn’t hiding anything.”

“If he dies?”

“Then I will pray for him."

Sister Lora bowed and silently excused herself.

At nightfall Sister Lora left the camp hiding in a supply wagon then jumped it when she was sure no one would see her. Her nun’s habit was replaced by a set of light armor that brought back waves of detestable nostalgia: the Viper.

----------=====#####=====----------

Viper was once a legendary assassin in the Royal Spellswords. She was so good at her job that, despite her infamy that earned that nickname no one even knew she was a woman. Once the Viper bites you are sure to die. That’s what her colleagues said proudly about her. She was extremely talented with poison, stealth, and sudden-kill maneuvers.

And then she snapped.

The tipping point was her last assignment. It was typical at first: eliminate a lowly noble that was causing problems. He was committing some crimes and had dirt on the royal family so they wanted him disposed of. Normally this is not enough for them to call on her talents. The long-established elites consider blackmail to be nothing more than a diversion, most of the time, but it was determined this noble would be too unstable to play politics and keep the information confidential.

When Viper tracked down this noble she found him in his arcanum, a room dedicated to research and experimentation. The kill was quick and professional. What she discovered afterwards made her wish she took her time.

He was experimenting on children.

It took her hours to finally leave the arcanum. The children’s bodies were magically twisted and beyond recovery and all of them were clearly in torturous pain. She couldn’t leave them like that but she couldn’t take them with her. She was soaked in blood from head to toe and every part of her felt utterly numb.

She was convinced her soul had just died.

At that point she just started running. She refused to use her talents and had no safe connections and no other skills, so she ended up on the streets stealing food not to starve. Seasons passed, as they unerringly do, and winter came. When she was exhausted from shuffling and crawling she stumbled into a church.

The Temple of the Witness of Idrin.

It was late at night and the temple was empty. She was starving, and she was freezing, and she was alone.

Grabbing the podium she trembled and prayed. She prayed fanatically. At that point she was sure she was going to die but just wanted her soul returned so she wouldn’t turn undead. She wanted to fix everything she did but it was all out of her reach. Once she scoffed at church-goers. Now all she could do was desperately beg a higher power for help.

“What troubles you child?”

Priestess Evelyn, as radiant then as she is now.

Sobbing, the woman once known as Viper, the deadliest assassin in the kingdom, crashed forward at Priestess Evelyn’s feet and begged to be forgiven, clinging to her knees like the priestess was a life-preserver. It all flowed from her right then and there. Every questionable job she had taken, every job she enjoyed, and most of all the last job. She screamed for those kids to forgive her, remember their confused and terrified faces as she brought the bloody dagger down.

“Even though they couldn’t be saved they wanted to live!”

There were no tears left. It was just dry sobbing and hiccups.

Priestess Evelyn stroked her hair the entire time and consoled her. Each sin was immediately forgiven without judgment. When the story about the children ended Priestess Evelyn took Viper’s hands and led her through the, “Prayer of Absolution,” prompting each phrase, patiently, until Viper could repeat it, and then helped her with the, “Prayer for the Astray.” The first prayer was for the children and the second prayer was for Viper, herself. The priestess gently explained she did the right thing by those children.

“You still have your soul child, but you must take care of it.”

For once in over a year Viper slept soundly.

Priestess Evelyn nursed her back to health and put her to work assisting in alms and gave her a new name, “Lora.” The reborn Lora had a place and self-worth, even if just a tiny bit. When the priestess suggested Lora take up the nun’s habit she immediately accepted and zealously tended to her nun’s studies.

Lora, however, was not blind nor stupid. She clearly knew there were dirty politics involved. She knew Priestess Evelyn was involved in them. But the one thing she could not doubt was Priestess Evelyn’s conviction and that everything the priestess was doing was definitely for the greater good.

Because of Priestess Evelyn’s deep beliefs Lora offered her skill-set. In this way she became Priestess Evelyn’s left hand. She was sure that, if any one could, Priestess Evelyn would be the one to righteously use them.

----------=====#####=====----------

The tavern was a loud one and it smelled horrible. It was a lonely structure on a stretch of road, only accompanied by a few other buildings. It being a tavern was really an excuse for mercenary groups to congregate. This particular tavern, “The Gruesome Hatchet,” was no exception.

Lora walked in calmly. Several of the men in the room tracked her with their eyes. It there was no lewd looks, as one would expect, only anticipation. Her contact was a man sitting alone at a table, with his feet propped up.

“Oh? A job?”

This man was very nonchalant despite the rough atmosphere.

“That’s right. It’s simple enough. Wrangle some local monsters and put them to work.”

“Simple? Sure it is. Well, you know the fee,” the mercenary stated, working the toothpick between his teeth, “No real reason to repeat it again.”

Sister Lora dropped a small bag on the table with a clink. At that he put his feet down, opened the bag, and started counting the silver coins inside it, laying them in equal stacks. His casual attitude was gone. The entire tavern hushed, waiting patiently while the man counted.

He called himself Ragnar and he led a small group of mercenaries that took jobs in and around the Necropolis, and work was good. The army sometimes had trouble fielding enough troops to keep the undead horde thinned out. So, they hired extra fighters.

Although the nobility would prefer to just conscript the lot of them they didn’t. Mercenaries were usually the type that didn’t handle authority well. Plus, it was far better to keep them focused in a constructive manner than have them bored and turning to banditry.

Ragnar himself did not look the type to be violent or criminal at first glance. He was tall, clean-cut, and kept his equipment organized. He refused to swear and refused to drink to excess. But Lora could tell simply by his fighting method he enjoyed it a little too much to settle down. She had seen the type plenty. Battle was his life and battle would be his death, if none were to be had he’d make his own.

“So who’s this? A comfort woman? When’s my turn?”

“Someone tell that boy be polite,” Ragnar said simply without turning his head to address the young new punk in the group. A quick hook from another mercenary knocked the kid on his haunches. He was pissed but stayed quiet.

The one that gave him the hook was a bald and muscular man with a large axe. He quietly threatened, “Stop trying so hard, boy, before I get serious.”

Ragnar looked up, "Sorry about that."

"No harm, no foul," Lora replied.

The reason Lora had made a connection with Ragnar’s group was because they were disciplined, as far as mercenary groups go, and they could keep their mouths shut. It cost extra but it was worth it.

“Money checks out,” Ragnar reported, “You need us to move right away?”

“Yes,” Lora answered.

The men in the tavern started to funnel out the door after downing their mugs. The axe-man was giving orders, directing the group around. What was once before a lounging group of thugs suddenly became an organized military unit. The other buildings were part of their operation. One was an armory and they went in, geared up, and selected from a collection of mismatched weapons.

Horses were expensive but this group had a few. Two were saddled and brought to Lora and Ragnar for their use. As instructed before Lora stayed in Ragnar’s company. He didn’t do this for her safety. On their first meeting Ragnar knew immediately she was far more dangerous than anyone else in the group. Keeping her isolated from the group kept his own men safer. Lora also assumed Ragnar liked dangerous women. She didn't mind and sometimes encouraged it with a turn of phrase.

Hiring them was a convenience, as she was probably powerful enough to do any job solo that they needed to work together on. But their use provided more separation between any possible investigation and Priestess Evelyn. She had warned Ragnar the first time she hired him that if they were exposed she would kill him without hesitation, regardless if he learned anything or not.

“Well, that just makes you interesting,” he said, shrugging.

“Boss, I got a rumor on goblin marches,” the bald axe-man reported, “Seems something spooked them pretty bad. There’s a small tribe of about a dozen or so we could probably subjugate with little risk.”

Ragnar glanced at Lora.

She asked, flatly, “Is there anything stronger?”

“Well, sure, there’s plenty out here that’s stronger. But it will take more time.”

“Frankly speaking,” Lora said, “We’re using the monsters to test a pair. Both of them survived the Necropolis.”

“Oh really?” Ragnar was not impressed. His own group had made excursions before. In fact, almost all of the mercenary groups in the area have all been in the city of death.

“Yes. From the nexus.”

He raised his eyebrows. That had interested him. He could count on one hand the number of mercenaries who pulled that off. All of them paid heavy prices in lives. A march to and from the nexus was a true test.

“Anything?” he asked the axe-man.

“Closest is a week out, accounting for travel and prep.”

“Goblins will have to do. We’re on a time table,” Lora said, “We need to be set up in two days, three at the most.”

Both the men nodded. What their employer wanted she was going to get, as they were professionals. There was no reason lamenting things they could not control. The axe-man walked off to handle getting the group set up and let them know their mission.

“Who is this pair?” Ragnar asked.

“It’s best you don’t know too much.”

“Damn shame. They sound interesting.”

Capturing the goblins was easy for a group like this one. A tribe on the march is already low on morale. After cutting down a few the goblins surrendered when commanded. The fight and chase took about a day.

"Boss? The kid was killed," axe-man reported.

"Shame, he had some potential, I think. Well, wrap up his body and get the usual severance pay prepared for the family. Send the weapon, too, with a letter saying he died protecting one of his friends," Rangar said.

Lora looked at him and raised an eyebrow. She never thought mercenaries would lie to protect a family from pain, let alone send them money for a funeral.

"So you don't know everything, miss?" Ragnar chuckled, "It's a high-mortality job and we have to advertise. If no one thinks it's worth it no one will join."

"That's pragmatic," she agreed.

Directing them towards Elin and Walter wasn’t difficult. It’s uncommon, because of the volatile nature of goblins, but it is possible to make short-term deals with them or direct them by force. They were told they could go free after attacking the two. Faced with execution or life the goblins accepted the deal. At the appropriate time the goblins were freed and set off in their direction.

Lora and Ragnar watched in secrecy, watching from afar and camouflaged by foliage. The skirmish was short. Elin’s technique was, as expected of a high ranking knight and paladin-select, unmatched. Lora examined her closely as a trained assassin naturally would. In a straight up fight Lora calculated her odds were one-in-two, and that’s if she took Elin by surprise. The boy with her, however, was embarrassingly weak. He even panicked and required Elin to save him. It would be no effort on Lora’s part to execute him.

“Well, that chap was disappointing. Those two must have survived because of her. Still, even with her talent they must have been very lucky,” Ragnar stated, crestfallen.

“Seems so,” Lora said, noncommittally.

“Not what you expected?”

“This was just confirmation. Don’t ask any more questions, please.”

“Well, at any rate, it’s a pleasure doing business with you.”

“Likewise.”

----------=====#####=====----------

“I see,” Priestess Evelyn said quietly, “I was hoping the boy would reveal something if he thought he was in private. Each of the [Heroes] have always had a varied personality.”

“Should I continue watching him?”

“That won’t be necessary. He’s clearly powerless and Lady Erin will provide us with written reports from Letun. Even if he was corrupt by Ouroboros there's nothing he can do. Besides, I want to see how it plays out between the two of them.”

“She’s a paladin-select. Surely nothing will--”

Priestess Evelyn started speaking before Sister Lora finished her sentence, “I have already disqualified her for paladinhood. My formal request for her disqualification has already been approved and registered.”

“I see,” Sister Lora said sadly. Paladins were the greatest weapons the church had against the Spawn of Ouroboros. They were unshakable soldiers and capable of even healing magic. It was a sore loss.

“When she reached into Ouroboros to retrieve him the corruption spread to her. They share a curse now. It’s impossible to consider her, especially considering the nature of the curse will encourage her to sin. Paladins must be disciplined and pure of heart. She is tainted. By the time we can lift the curse and cleanse her of the corruption the damage to her purity will be done.”

Priestess Evelyn was using a calm and steady voice but her hands fidgeted with the edge of a scroll. It was well known Elin Folcey was favored by the priestess and was being guided by her.

Priestess Evelyn hated the idea of setting the two of them up to couple considering Elin’s lost potential as a paladin. The priestess felt Elin deserved better. But it was a well documented fact some power was hereditary and skipped generations. There was a possibility that their child, should one occur, would be strong and it absolutely could not be overlooked. Notwithstanding Elin’s own history with arranged marriages the situation had to be recovered, somehow.

“If he’s powerless why are we still giving him protection?”

Thankfully, Sister Lora did not ask why they were not separated to preserve Elin chances at selection. Priestess Evelyn shifted her eyes, smiling, “We take in everyone, Sister Lora.”

“Oh, no, of course!” Sister Lora bowed her head.

“You are right to question, from another standpoint. Frankly speaking, if the mage’s guild found out about this boy being summoned through the [Dimensional Portal], the first one in hundreds of years, and that he was powerless? Well, they could use it as political leverage. ‘Put your trust in us,' they would declare. Worse, it calls into question the veracity of the church’s position, since the prophecy would be considered a failure. The church is the one true salvation but its political position is currently tenuous. This isn't even to speak of the reactions of the other four kingdoms.”

“So we’re hiding the evidence?”

“In a way, yes. We’re also, probably, saving his life. The games nobles and guilds play is a dangerous one, with the innocent often the victims.”

Before Priestess Evelyn were two scrolls, laid out side by side, and several others nearby. They were religious texts. Many from The Temple of the Witness. Some procured from other churches.

“It’s so taxing,” she breathed, “We must have faith.”

Each one was a prophecy about an arriving hero. Walter matched some of the conditions for all of the prophecies but never all for any one of them. The entire problem was also compounded by the fact some of the prophecies had conflicting conditions. It was an unprecedented situation for Priestess Evelyn. Carefully, she rolled the scrolls back up and stacked them to the side. Once this business was over Sister Lora will secretly return them from where they were ‘borrowed.’

“It must be the work of Ouroboros,” Sister Lora said quietly.

“There is no doubt. Ouroboros is to blame. The question is how do we see through her deception?”