I cannot fathom the potential she must have. All this time I hid her away from the world, thinking myself protecting her, only to have her chosen to help save us all.

--King Leofwine’s Journal, 4th of Highsun, 458

ARC 4 - RADIANT

CHAPTER 8 - THE WEAK

Cold. That was the way Raegn would describe the mask, were he forced to. It seemed like there should have been a better word for it - perhaps noble or awe-inspiring, but neither of those fit. Instead, as he looked down at the white wood, he only saw its lifeless expression staring back.

The mask had the features of a face, though they were smoothed out and subdued. Most people might have mistaken it for porcelain given its flowing shape. There were holes for the eyes of course, lest the wearer be rendered sightless, but Raegn had seen a Justicar in Bastion once before - the wearer’s eyes hadn’t been visible beneath. If someone were about to meet justice, they’d not have the comfort of knowing how its deliverer felt about it.

“You don’t like it?” Nora asked as she finished tightening down her bracers.

“Whether I like it or not has little to do with anything,” Raegn noted and fastened the mask to his belt. “It’s just odd. Why not wear helmets?”

Nora chuckled. “There’s only one family alive that knows how to make them. I don’t claim to know how it works, but whatever they do to the Everwood when they carve them out makes it protect the same as metal would.”

“No, I know that. I mean, if we don’t want them to see our face, why not just wear a helmet instead?”

“Because it’s tradition?” Nora offered with a shrug. “The Light’s justice is supposed to be unattributable - it’s issuance perfect. It holds all of humanity to the exact same standard, no matter if you’re a king or a beggar. The mask ensures that the judged and any who might be watching know that there is no personal motivation to the Justicar’s action.”

“Still don’t know why it can’t just be a helmet,” Raegn grumbled.

They strode across the Citadel grounds toward the stables and hardly a soul paid them any attention. How many times had Raegn seen a Justicar and not even known it? For some reason he’d imagined they dressed like the Crownguard when they went on assignments; covered head-to-toe in intricate plate. Instead, he and Nora wore only bits of armor, most of it covered by clothing, their simple cloaks, or the straps from the various bags and satchels each of them carried.

Nora picked out two horses, each with a deep walnut coat, and began to fasten down their gear. It wasn’t much, only enough for the day considering their assignment was to a nearby village, but it began to remind Raegn of the preparations he’d done as a Sentinel. Not the horse, of course. The animal would’ve been spooked the moment it left Bastion’s eastern gate. Everything else, though, the light armor good for traveling, the supplies, the comfort of a strong companion, it was all very familiar.

Nora gave a grunt as she cinched down her saddle.

“What are you grinning about?”.

“Nothing,” Raegn assured her. “Just reminiscing.”

He fastened his scabbard to the side of his saddle so it wouldn’t pull on his belt as he rode, then swung himself atop his horse. Nora mirrored the action and the two put their mounts at a leisurely pace out of the stable and off the island. They stayed on the main roads of Elysium, mostly because they were the fastest route to the city’s edge, but also because the other streets quickly narrowed enough that people would hardly have room to maneuver around them. Even on the primary pathways they quickly found themselves in the thick of a bustling crowd and the clopping of the horse's hooves was drowned out by the sounds of the city.

It was as if the sun shining brightly woke the people from the dreariness that had sat over most of the Realm the past few seasons. Spring had finally come and with it life blossomed much like the buds of newly grown flowers. Clothes and blankets were hung out to dry, strung out above the streets like colorful banners. Doors and windows were left open rather than sealed shut to let in the warm breeze and gave small peaks into other ways of life.

It was refreshing to see this much activity in the city for all of about a minute. After that golden moment passed, the clamoring of people pushing through the crowd and merchants calling their wares made it hard to focus on anything other than how cramped things felt. For that, Raegn was glad he was atop a horse where he couldn’t be pushed about.

Once they crossed through the gate and exited the city proper, they donned their masks and put their mounts into a gallop. This particular assignment wasn’t expected to be difficult and it wasn’t a fleeting opportunity, but there was little sense in delaying the inevitable. Not in Nora’s mind, at least, and she’d given Raegn no room to debate the matter. First impressions were lasting and he would not wish for this to be a poor one. His jaw clenched as he went over the assignment again in his mind.

A single report could have been put aside as the ravings of an overly-wary neighbor, but near a quarter of the village had told an Inquisitor that the woodcutter had taken to the Void. Offered himself to it even, if a few of the more insistent claims were to be believed. The man must have been mad to begin with, Raegn reasoned. Why else would someone consider bargaining with that evil? And how did one even begin to ask the darkness for its favor in the first place?

They came upon the village about midday, a few lines of smoke rising from what Raegn guessed to be the baker’s hut and smithy. The residents looked to be hardworking folk, all of them in simple clothing and covered in dirt. They milled about, some of the older women sweeping the broken stone paths that led to their doorstep while the youngest children ran and played in the dirt streets. There was a faint scent of bread, or perhaps meat pies, but the overwhelming stench was that of manure from the nearby pasture. The villagers paused their work as Raegn and Nora rode by, some regarding them with solemn stares while others only took a brief glance before burying their heads back in their tasks.

As they neared the village center, one man came forward from near the well. He dressed as simply as the others, everything about him earth tones, but wore a simple leather cap that looked dirty enough to have been trampled by an entire herd of cattle. The poor man might’ve been wearing it when it happened, Raegn noted, given the general state of his face. His cheeks weren’t even close to the same shape and it would’ve been a surprise if he could breathe through his nose with how badly it curved.

“Hail, Justicar,” the man said with a raise of his hand. ”We figured one of your kind would be by, eventually.”

Nora pulled up on the reigns to stop next to the man, but did not speak. Raegn followed her lead, staying back some so he could watch the villagers. The majority within earshot stopped their work entirely and those a bit further out only pretended as if they weren’t trying to listen in. The man pulled the leather cap from his head and wrung it nervously in his hands.

“I’m, uh, I’m the leader of Tastow,” the man said with a small bow of his head. “Mayor Loren, if it pleases you.”

“Well met, Mayor Loren,” Nora replied.

Raegn frowned. Her voice sounded different, like it was…well, coming from behind a mask. It made her seem distant and less personable, but he supposed that was the intent. Nora continued on without care.

“We’ve received reports that one among you has succumbed to the Void.”

“Aye, though I wouldn’t have believed it had I not heard the chanting myself. We first noticed it a season or so back when he was staying up into the wee hours of the morning,” the Mayor explained.

“Where is he now?” Nora asked.

The Mayor never stopped wringing his cap, but shifted to the side and gestured towards a path that led out of the village. Raegn brought the Light to his eyes and was able to see a lone dwelling at the path’s end near the edge of the woods. He gave Nora a nod and the two set their mounts on their way.

“Justicar, just another moment, if you please,” the Mayor called and scurried up next to their horses. “Murtry has had a rough go these past years. His wife died bringing their daughter into the world and the child took ill within her first few seasons. No one’s seen the girl since, well…could you check that’s she’s…”

The Mayor squeezed his cap so hard his knuckles turned white. He shook his head like he was about to sob, but managed to compose himself with a deep yet ragged breath.

“It would be most appreciated if you could check on her,” he finished.

“We’ll do what we can,” Nora said and dug her heels into the sides of her horse.

Raegn waited until they’d cleared the village’s edge and were out of earshot. In a small community like this word would travel fast, so all of them likely knew about the woodcutter’s situation. No reason to give them more to think about.

“You think she’s alive?” he asked.

Nora sat stiffly upon her horse, her eyes ahead. “I don’t know.”

The Justicar represented faceless justice, but beneath they were still human. It was foolish to believe that even a Justicar could remain impartial about something as horrible as sacrificing a child. Raegn had certainly never heard of such a thing.

“Listen, I’ve seen the Void, but unless there’s a voidling crawling around this place or a portal in his kitchen how are we going to know that’s what he’s done?”

“The ring you were given as part of your issued gear will go cold as ice in the presence of the Void,” Nora informed him.

Raegn gave an instinctive twist of the band on his left hand at her words, recalling how he’d been too focused on the vast selection of armor and weapons available to the Justicar to listen when Nora had handed him the small band.

“Absent any Void,” Nora continued, “evidence of him killing his own child is just as damning.”

The woodcutter’s house was as simple up close as it had looked from a distance. It was little more than a stone and timber square sitting proudly on the edge of the wood. A small fence of thin planks reached up to the thigh and surrounded the property, a fitting addition given the owner’s occupation. Nora was the first through the small gate and Raegn followed, the brass hinges squeaking as the entry clacked shut behind him. They didn’t make it to the door of the house before the woodcutter himself emerged.

Raegn guessed the man wasn’t very old, maybe only a decade or so more than himself, but those years had not been kind. The woodcutter’s hair was frazzled as though he’d been pulling on it relentlessly and his skin hung loosely from sharp cheekbones. It looked very much like he hadn’t had a proper meal in days and the lack of strength showed in his shuffled walk and the fatigued hunch in his back.

“Ah, Justicar. So you have come,” he said with a small smile. “Well, I suppose it’s to be expected, but please, let me assure you there is nothing wrong here. I tried to explain to the others, but they wouldn’t listen.”

“Stay where you are, Mister Murtry,” Nora ordered with a raised hand.

She left the other on the hilt of her sword and nodded for Raegn to move up. He took a position almost opposite her on the other side of the man, ensuring this “Murtry” had nowhere to run but back into the house. He wouldn’t make it to the door, even if he tried.

“You must understand,” Murtry continued, his eyes darting back and forth between the two of them.

Raegn’s eyes narrowed and he began to ready himself. The woodcutter knew what was coming. Only a fool wouldn’t recognize being surrounded as a threat.

“Please, you must understand. I did it to save my child!” he pleaded. “Her name is Liliana. I’d already taken her to the Church and the Light could do nothing for her! My little Lily was dying!”

“Your daughter is alive?” Nora asked.

“Yes! Yes, of course!” The woodcutter said, his eyes brightening some.

He turned toward her, thinking he’d found a reprieve, but his step forward was met by the first few inches of steel emerging from Nora’s sheath. He flinched and backed away.

“No, please. I’m all she has left. We have no other family! She’s alive, there’s nothing wrong. Just let us be. Please.”

Raegn took a moment’s focus and put it against his left hand. The ring was noticeably there, but only because he wasn’t used to the piece of jewelry quite yet. It was no colder than any other piece of metal would be.

“You said the Light could do nothing for your dying daughter, yet she’s still alive. So what did you do, exactly?” he asked.

“I pleaded for my daughter’s life,” the woodcutter explained. “Begged for it. I would have done anything to keep her alive. Traded my own life for hers!”

He took a few steps forward as he spoke and Raegn began to draw his own steel.

“Stay. Back.”

The woodcutter complied, though one of his hands began to writhe around the opposite wrist, rubbing and scratching as though it were manacled.

“And what happened when you begged?” Raegn asked.

“Something answered,” Murtry admitted feebly. “Someone, I think.”

Raegn’s cocked his head to the side in curiosity. He couldn’t see Nora’s beneath her mask, but her posture gave away enough. That had caught her attention, too.

“Someone?” he clarified. “They saved her, just like that?”

“Well, no. They said my daughter was weak, but they could give her body the strength it needed.”

Raegn watched the man continue to abuse his forearms, then caught a glimpse of the skin beneath. It was so dry it looked like scales and the cracks between were filled with dried blood. The woodcutter must have felt the attention, because he hurriedly unrolled his sleeves and pulled them over his wrists.

“They didn’t give it for free,” Raegn said, answering what would have been his next question.

“No…” the woodcutter agreed.

“What did you trade?”

“Please, you must understand!” Murtry begged.

Or what would have been begging, if his voice wasn’t deepening and turning into a growl with every word. The hunch of exhaustion turned into a bracing posture as if he were about to lunge or lash out. Like a cornered animal, fear manifested into aggression.

“It saved her!” he barked. “Whatever it did to me, it was worth it! And I feel fine! I—”

It was a clean stroke. Nora’s blade flashed out and through the man’s neck from behind like a single glimmer across a pane of glass. The woodcutter’s head hit the ground at the same time as his knees, the rest of his body toppling over shortly after. Raegn grimaced, but relaxed out of his defensive stance and sheathed the quarter of his sword he’d pulled.

“I didn’t feel the Void,” he said hoarsely.

“Neither did I,” Nora agreed, “but we can’t rule it out. He was clearly mad. Maybe the corruption wasn’t spread enough. Or maybe it was too deep to be felt.”

Raegn nodded, then reluctantly turned his attention to the house. If the woodcutter was to be believed, there was one life still inside. He set his jaw and pressed his eyes closed in a short prayer. Let the girl be alive. Let her be untouched.

Again, Nora was the first through the door. There was no reason for the mayor to have lied and if the mother had truly died within recent years, the girl wasn’t old enough to be any real threat. They entered like guests, slowly crossing the threshold and taking in the room. A fire crackled away at one end, a few spoons on the mantle above and a pot on the ground nearby. There was a simple wooden table with four chairs in the center of the room and in the corner next to the fire, two beds, one much larger than the other.

They took slow steps, their feet crunching against the dirt floor.

“Lily?” Nora called out.

There. Raegn’s eyes locked on a sudden movement on the far side of the table where a small head covered with frizzy curls poked up from behind one of the chairs. Nora went around one side and he the other, yet both came to a relieved stop on either side of the girl.

Lily sat on a small mat, a stick in one hand and a small doll in the other. She’d been idly scribbling away in the dirt, judging by the small piles here and there. The child couldn’t have been older than a year or two, her cheeks still round with fat and her hair uncut since the day she’d been born. Her head swung back and forth, unable to decide which of the two matching faces she wanted to look at.

“Still no Void,” Raegn noted with a twist of the ring beneath his glove.

“Look,” Nora said and reached down towards the girl. The child shied away and let out a small whine that grew until she was on the verge of screaming. Nora recoiled, then pulled the mask from her head and smiled. “It’s alright,” she cooed with all the soft tones of a mother. “See? We’re just like you!”

She reached in again, delicately pushing away the girl’s brown curls and revealing the side of her neck. A bit of skin, no larger than a coin, bulged some and its surface was black and splitting - like the father's.

Raegn’s heart had never fallen so quickly. The poor child had been scorned by fate. Whatever had afflicted the father had spread. Nora nodded towards the corner of the room and the two left little Lily to continue playing nearby, though both made sure to keep her in sight.

“What do you think?” Nora whispered.

Raegn swallowed to wet his bone-dry throat. There wasn’t much of a discussion to be had, the way he saw it. Matters like this were cut and dry, something Nora had to know well given her impeccable record as a Justicar. If anything she was testing his resolve, though even with the mask hiding his face she would likely recognize his hesitancy.

“The Code says—”

“I know what the Code says,” Nora hissed. “That’s not what I asked.”

Raegn stiffened. That was unexpected. Did she not know what to do? No, she knew, he told himself. She didn’t want to.

“I’m at a loss,” he admitted. “The corruption in my father turned him into a shadow of his former self, but it took a few years. The girl seems fine. Maybe it’s just started. We could try to purge it from her?”

Nora clucked her tongue and folded her arms over her chest. “Healing is not my strong suit.”

“Mine either,” Raegn said, recalling how badly cleansing even the smallest of wounds burned. If only they had someone like Rue—

“We could take her to the Church!” he offered. “I know a healer with a gentle touch. Maybe she can…” Raegn trailed off, realizing what he was suggesting.

“We’d be bringing corruption straight to one of the most sacred places in the Realm,” Nora said absently, confirming his worry.

Raegn watched the girl idly playing, blissfully unaware of the fact that her father had just been executed and she was all but upon the gallows herself. He wanted to be angry, but convinced himself it was misplaced. Fury did little good here - they needed a more educated solution. Try as he might, though, nothing else would come to mind.

“The risk is noted,” Nora said with a sniff and righted her posture. “If we try to cleanse her ourselves we’re liable to kill her and I will not put a child to the sword. Bring the horses around back, I’m not carrying her past what’s out front.”

Tera stormed through Elysium’s streets, her shoulders tense and her hands balled into tight fists. There weren’t many people out now that the sun had set, but those that were parted quickly, making way for the small formation that tailed her. Or maybe for Tera herself, given her demeanor. The Crusader at the small formation’s front quickened his stride to come alongside her.

“Caloman, might we slow down a bit? Bit hard to march cleanly at this pace,” he said.

Tera glanced over her shoulder and saw that the formation was indeed having a bit of trouble. Only eight of them in two rows of four, but at this point they looked more like a gaggle despite their feet staying in sync. She bit her lip and slowed her pace to afford them the proper appearances. They made it another block before the Crusader tried to speak again.

“Are you alright, Caloman?”

“I’m fine,” she grumbled, then, remembering her place, added a quick “Sir”.

“Oh, that’s quite alright,” the Crusader said with a wave of his hand. “Just Ephraim will do. I’m only here for appearances, really. These missions came about because of your legwork. It seems right that you be at their head.”

“Not that much has come of them,” Tera said under her breath.

Despite her moody rumblings, Ephraim must have heard. He shifted some, standing a bit more upright as if his puffed out chest could show how proud he was.

“There’s tons of tunnels down there,” he remarked, “and they know them better than we do - for now. They can’t run and hide forever. We’ll get something good one of these nights, I’m sure of it.”

“If you say so,” Tera replied.

In truth, she did hope so. Thus far they’d found little more than scraps of documents, almost all of them the same pamphlet that had the words the doomsayers had been spouting throughout the city. Tonight, though, she could hardly focus on the mission at all. After what she’d seen, how could she be expected to?

She could reason that they’d only taken their masks off to make the child feel more comfortable. She could even see how entertaining the child was better than it crying and fussing. She could, but she didn’t. Instead, she saw her own sister stealing the one thing she’d wanted for herself. They looked like a family out for a light-hearted evening ride, for fuck’s sake! Nora the doting mother, reaching over to Raegn’s horse to straighten her daughter’s clothes while Raegn, the bemused father, tried not to look too dismayed as his child pulled at the straps of his gear.

It was an awful sight and the more she’d watched their amused smiles and shared words the more her stomach had churned and knotted. Nora was prettier and more capable, of course Raegn would take to her. She never should’ve pushed him to take the Trial. What the fuck had she been thinking?

“Well, I’m glad you’re along,” Ephraim continued, either unconcerned or entirely ignorant to the storm cloud brewing over Tera’s head. “I know these missions haven’t turned up yet, but I have a good feeling about them. I think we’ll find something one of these nights.”

Tera grunted in agreement and picked up her pace again. Heaven help any cultist they might find. The bastard wasn’t likely to survive.