29

The Sable Church

‘Well take him in, but he’s not allowed further inside.’ The white robed Sister of the Church pointed at Sethel, who tried to stand as neutral as possible.

‘What in the world did I do?’

‘We’re very much aware of the reasons for your expulsion.’

‘I assure you, my expulsion from Vesterwys was a purely political affair.’

‘You made a student’s skin fall off!’

‘...It fell off for political reasons.’

‘You’re not coming in. This is not up for discussion.’

Ves’sa placed Ludgar’s almost corpse onto a stretcher which, under arcane influence of a Sable Sister, rose into the air and hovered deeper into the glistening silver halls of the Sable Church, with Kathiya keeping a close watch until the silver, heavy doors separated them. The Starcrest Knights kept a close, watchful eye upon them and the rest of their crew.

‘This is most unfair! I let one experiment go awry and I’m cast out forever, yet the barbarian destroys your property and she’s still allowed in?’

‘There’s quite a level of difference in fixing a broken spire and treating a mild concussion than there is in regrafting the skin of a university student. You can stay in the main hall, and that is as far as you can go.’

As the Starcrest Knights escorted the Sister further inside, the mercs took a seat in what must have been the most ostentatious church they had ever set foot in, although there wasn’t much competition.

Few entered at this time of night. A few suspicious corvids from Mismiyer came and went. Librarians, most likely. Their dark robes silhouetting them against the ivory white walls.

Kathiya inspected the ornaments on display, as habit and more so as distraction. Seeing the metal struts of the white ceramic vases, she found that all metal in the room must be made of silver, or, if not silver, a similar enough substitute. Even the chandelier above glowed argent in the light.

Ordinarily, this would be a very tempting score, one which she would normally find little resistance against. However, current circumstances pushed those thoughts from her; material desire being replaced with the heavy, sinking feeling of abject worry.

She’d seen Ludgar in battle many times. This was the first time she ever saw him in such a state.

If anyone could figure out what was wrong, it would be the Sable Sisters. A sect of nuns devoted to the healing arts, earning coin by applying this knowledge to the public. There were no greater healers in all the land, maybe even the world, provided you could afford it.

Right now, they couldn’t. Even with the money from a successful contract, they still wouldn’t have enough to pay the healers if it was anything serious.

‘I’m hungry,’ Caspar said, being both infuriatingly inconsiderate and welcomingly distracting.

‘Ludgar could be dead in there, and all you can think about is food?’

‘Sorry,’ he said, immediately put on the defensive,’ but us sitting around here isn’t going to help him.’

‘You could be a little more considerate.’ She wanted to refute his argument. She couldn’t. As far as arguments went, it was pretty solid. Their presence here would not affect Ludgar’s condition. She just wanted something to replace that knot of anxiety in the pit of her stomach. Rage was a natural emotion to fall into, and Caspar happened to be unlucky enough to speak first.

They heard the bolts of the double doors shifting, taking all of their attention. A Sable Sister adorned in a robe of pure white stepped through and approached the group, prompting them to stand and gather.

‘We’ve conducted our initial analysis, an-’

‘And it took this much time?’ Sethel interrupted.

‘If you wish to explain his condition, then please be my guest.’

‘I know exactly what’s wrong with him, but you may need to explain it to everyone else first,’ he said with smile wide and lie obvious.

‘...Very well.’ She adjusted the high collar of her embroidered robe and began.

The sister explained it as best she could to a bunch of grubby sellswords plus Sethel. A fair number of people are, in some way, magically inclined: from Ves’sa’s slight influence over the wind, to Caspar’s natural strength, to Kathiya’s proclivity for shadow. This is magic in its rawest form; wild and undisciplined.

It is known as being “Resonant.” The mana of those who are Resonant spills into the muscles, senses, even bones, leading to enhanced strength, speed, resilience, perception, and so forth.

Certain bloodlines prove to enhance the effects of being Resonant, leading to greater strength. In more primitive times, the common folk saw these Resonant as demigods and bestowed them with divine right, leading to the current nobility system seen through Evandis and the wider world.

Then there are the mages, who, through rigorous study and experimentation, can focus this power into spells and incantations, turning this solely inward force into more practical outward effects.

Then there are the Resonants who develop their Resonant abilities and turn them into talents. Talents are effects bound to the soul, so they conceptualize as specific abilities that vary from person to person. From the stone manipulating hordes to the south, to even the hydromantic Scourge of the Seas herself, each talent can produce very unique properties.

To everyone, it appeared that Ludgar’s magical nature was nothing significant. Even to the Sisters, it appeared as ordinary as it could get. Still, he somehow managed to release an incredible amount of force from some unknown place that it incapacitated him. She likened it to strenuous effort on muscles that had never seen use before.

‘At this moment, it would seem he simply requires rest. Even though we can’t find anything wrong with him, we’ll keep monitoring his condition.’

‘I see,’ said Sethel. ‘It is all just as I theorized.’

‘What is wrong with you?’ Kathiya said, a little more forcefully than she probably should have. ‘Are you simply doing this shit to fuck with us or is there something genuinely wrong with your brain?’

‘Yes.’

‘Fuck you.’

‘There is no need for such hostility,’ Belfry added, getting between the two. ‘I know a great tavern just across the street. Ve can have some food, get some drinks, and settle down for the night. My treat.’

He was right, of course. There was no need to stay. And right now, Kathiya wanted nothing more than a nice, strong drink.

‘You really need to learn to stop playing with your prey.’

‘You need to learn how to have some fun.’ Lazuli slumped down onto the fallen wall of the ruins. She untied the bandages of torn, bloodstained cloth wrapped around her leg.

He knelt down to take a closer inspection; the glass lenses of his crow mask reflected in the white moonlight.

A shard of metal lodged deep in her outer thigh.

‘Brace yourself, this may sting.’

‘I’m aware, this isn’t the firs-’

In one swift movement, he pulled the shard free. She gripped the brickwork beneath her and clenched her insidious teeth, only letting a hiss of pained air escape between them.

He held it up to the lamplight, taking a long look at the make, trying to see if it held any value. Then the shard disappeared behind his fingers, and in its place there came a small vial of clear liquid.

‘You can stop showing off,’ she said, breathing heavily and releasing the now cracked bricks.

‘This is, in fact, how I have fun,’ he replied, applying the vial to some fresh bandages and wrapping them around her leg. ‘This marks the second time I have ever seen you so damaged.’ He applied more bandages to other injured areas. He took her arm in a leather clad hand, bending it in certain directions and checking her reaction.

‘It’s not nearly as bad as last time. Was a lot more fun, too. How goes the western front?’

‘Steady. We’ve reached a period of stasis; enough for us to take our concerns elsewhere.’

‘Here, I take it?’

‘It appears that way. A personal visit may be in order. Your arm’s fine. Some bruising, but nothing significant. Be wary of your leg and you’ll be back to damaging yourself again in no time.’ He stood and placed the vial in the inside pocket of his coat. ‘And what of the artifact? I assume the recovery was unsuccessful.’

She stood, flexing her arm and testing her leg.

‘Ironically enough,’ she said with a smile, ‘I think it somehow managed to land in the right hands.'