If there is one strength to being mortal, I believe it to be the vigor with which we will fight simply to survive. With such limited time in this world we have little reason to not struggle with all our might. I can see it in the eyes of this army. No feat shall be too great for humanity now.

--A letter from Highlord Oswald to King Leofwine, 1st of Fullbloom, 462

ARC 4 - RADIANT

CHAPTER 12 - HUSH

Highlord Orgeron folded his hands in front of his face, hiding lips that were drawn into a thin line. He’d watched them enter his office from behind his desk, heard their first-hand report of the ambush in the storeroom from behind his desk, and now didn’t seem able to pick his gaze up off the damned thing.

Raegn rolled his jaw, a relatively minor fidget and only the tip of the iceberg that lay in suspenseful wait for some sort of response. They’d done nothing but their duty, yet all of his past interactions with the Highlord would indicate that being summoned to give their report first-hand wasn’t a particularly good sign. It also didn’t help that, despite the curtains being drawn from the tall windows, the sunlight failed to light the room beyond the exact spot where it hit the floor. It made the office seem quite dreary, even.

“You will keep quiet about this,” the Highlord said pensively from behind his hands.

“Of course, Highlord,” Nora answered promptly - and for the both of them.

The blanket of silence once again draped itself over the room’s occupants. It was odd, Raegn thought. Odd and immensely frustrating. So much had happened. There was so much to say, yet none of it was.

“That will be all.”

Raegn glanced at Nora. That was it? He’d only wanted them to give the same report that they’d already written? It wasn’t good enough. Treating this like any other assignment wasn’t good enough!

“Highlord, something must be done!” Raegn protested. “Nearly an entire squad was killed. Even I struggled to fight them! What if more are out there?!”

“Things are being done, Justicar Edelgard,” Highlord Orgeron retorted. He coughed some, but settled his throat with a swig of wine. “Chief Inquisitor Crowmere will see to a study of these new voidlings and we will send out Templar squads in larger numbers,” he continued. “I’ve already ordered the reaction force on duty to be doubled in size. Is that not enough for you? Or is it that you don’t believe me capable of handling this threat?”

Raegn opened his mouth to answer, but Nora saved him from himself.

“That’s not what he meant to imply, Highlord,” she said. “Justicar Edelgard only meant to express his concern for the people of Elysium.”

Raegn could see the small muscle in front of the Highlord’s ear pulsing behind a few locks of long hair as the large man clenched his jaw. Nora was the better respected of the two of them, Raegn wasn’t so naive as to think otherwise. Letting her do most of the talking was easily their best strategy in most situations, but in this instance someone had to break through that first barrier. Doing so had forced further discussion, at least. The Highlord thinking less of him for it was a small price to pay.

“Do you understand the panic this information would cause?” the Highlord asked - rhetorically. “Void-beings that can hide from the Justicar? From the Light? Not to mention their strength! No, you’ll not mention this to anyone save for myself, High Justicar Aldway, or Chief Inquisitor Crowmere. Am I clear?”

“Yes, Highlord,” Nora answered again, “but if there are—”

“But nothing, Caloman,” the Highlord snapped and sat back in his chair. “This cult has done nothing but hide until last night’s ambush. Even when they controlled the encounter they ultimately lost. Despite hearing of the events from all parties I have yet to be presented a viable reason why such a defeat would cause them to reveal themselves any further.”

“Retribution.”

The Highlord’s eyes narrowed on Raegn as though his answer had been born solely of accusation.

“Perhaps,” he admitted in a low tone.

The Highlord leaned forward in his chair again and Raegn made a concerted effort to stand tall and hold the man’s gaze. The job had to be tiring, he figured, for there were deep bags under the Highlord’s eyes.

“The work the Order does is dangerous by nature. More will die, whether it be by this cult or some other evil. You are fortunate to have survived your encounter when others were not so lucky.”

“Not luck, but a small amount of skill,” Raegn muttered under his breath.

The Highlord bolted out of his chair and rounded his desk with frightening speed. He bore down on Raegn, glaring at him from above and so close that their chests nearly touched. The difference in height forced a small bend in Raegn’s back and he winced at how stiff he still was from the night prior.

“You would do well to refrain from using the words of a cook against me,” the Highlord growled with more heat than the summer sun. He held his position a moment longer, a display of dominance akin to reminding a pup of his place in the pack, then broke away and strode back toward his chair. “Unless the two of you have any more recommendations on how I can best lead the Order, you are dismissed.”

“Yes, Highlord,” they answered in unison. Both gave a slight bow before retreating from the Highlord’s chambers.

“That was not what I expected,” Nora admitted once they’d rounded the corner and were away from the chamber guards. “And you shouldn’t so brazenly defy him. Why say something that would anger him?”

Raegn shrugged. “I didn’t know it would. Regardless, I’m more concerned about word of the cult getting out. He did have a point; the people in Elysium might panic if they believed more of those monsters lurked beneath their homes.”

“True,” Nora said with a sigh.

“How many Justicar missions end up as conversations at taverns?” Raegn asked.

Nora’s face turned pensive as she considered her answer and there was a small twitch in her lips as she finally settled on one. A small detail, but Raegn noticed. It was cute, even. Tera did the same thing, though normally hers was a twitch of frustration or anger.

“Only the most obvious ones,” Nora explained. “The number of people we interact with generally determines how quickly information spreads. If a fight was witnessed it’s public knowledge within the hour.”

“Well, no one saw us that isn’t in the Order,” he pointed out.

“And I’m sure they’ve all had a similar talk,” she added. “People will whisper about it, but they’ve nothing noteworthy save for two Justicar running through the city and some unseen skirmish. The Order cleaned up the monster in the street quick enough. Anyone in the Slants will probably assume we were intercepting smugglers or slave traders.”

“We can hope,” Raegn mumbled.

They reached the bottom of the stairs where all three of the Citadel’s wings met in a large circular room and paused when they realized they’d taken steps in opposite directions.

“You don’t want to go eat?” Nora questioned with a thumb over her shoulder.

Raegn considered it for a moment, but his mind had been holding onto a certain thought - an inspiration that had saved him - and he needed to see it proven.

“I want to speak with a certain philosopher-cook, first,” he said. “I’ll meet you later.”

“Suit yourself,” Nora shrugged. She gave a wave over her shoulder as she headed toward the Crusader’s Hall.

Nora pushed a forkful of rice around on her plate. She’d always liked how they’d put some butter in with the tiny grains to give them some added flavor, but now, even with some bits of meat mixed in, the meal just wasn’t that appealing. It wasn’t that the eating alone that bothered her - she was more than used to that. Besides Cenric, none of the other Justicar had ever talked to her much. She’d been too young to relate when she passed her trial and, without any bonds of friendship, almost all the conversations she ever had were strictly professional in nature.

No, it wasn’t being alone that caused her trouble. It was the unsettling feeling that went beyond her stomach, if she focused on it enough. A feeling that had been festering since her assignment to escort Uriel. After starting to work with Raegn, it had only gotten worse. Not that she could link it directly to him, of course. She’d been uneasy about him when Cenric told her of her sponsorship, but he did prove to be more tolerable than she ever would’ve given him credit for. So, despite the timing, he wasn’t the root cause.

It was what they’d been through. What they’d seen.

Were she left to wallow in sinking daydreams of days to come she might end up abandoning her own self and diving desperately into her work. Nothing would keep her from living up to her father’s legacy, but part of that meant being approachable and kind, a fact that her sister often forgot. Thankfully, despite her rather isolated start with the Justicar, Nora had made friends outside their ranks. Now that a few of them had finally passed their trial seeing them had become a bit more common an occurrence and a welcome one at that. Usually.

“Where’s Raegn?” Nalani asked as she and Kai took a seat opposite her. “Lately you two have practically been attached at the hip.”

Nora set her fork down and scowled at the islander couple. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Now, now,” Kai teased and gave a knowing pat on Nalani’s shoulder. “It’s to be expected of a sponsor to never let their charge out of sight. Come Nora, where’s your new…partner,” he finished with a chuckle.

“I’m going to ignore the uncouth implication of your words and remind you that my sister likely still loves him despite her stubbornness,” Nora answered matter-of-factly. “What you’re insinuating is the type of story housewives gossip about all day while their husbands are away.”

“True, true,” Nalani agreed with a flash of pearly teeth between honeyed lips. She gave a light shake of her head that bounced her tight curls and began to carve into the flank of meat slopped across her plate. Thinking the improper questions over, Nora took a swig from her mug just as the islander abandoned her meal and leaned in with a devious grin. “Then how are things with High Justicar Aldway?” she asked.

Nora sputtered and choked on her ale, but managed to suppress a cough and gently set the cup down.

“Fine,” she answered coldly.

“Oh, now see, that upset her,” Kai said, turning to his beloved.

“I don’t envy you, Nora,” Nalani admitted. “You’re in a very difficult position. No one…well, maybe Tera” she quickly corrected herself, “but besides her, no one would blame you if your feelings were to be swayed towards—”

“Enough!” Nora growled and slammed a fist on the table. Kai and Nalani flinched back and raised their hands in defense, each murmuring their apologies and becoming very interested in their food.

“If you’re so interested in gossiping about personal affairs,” Nora continued, “then talk about your own. You’re both Crusaders, now. Are we to assume that there will be a marriage in the near future?”

Despite the darker complexion of the islander’s skin, neither could hide their flushed cheeks. Nora’s attention passed between the two of them, but neither would look back at her. Nalani had turned to watch whatever random person had just entered the hall as if she hadn’t heard the question and Kai leaned back to scratch his head while burying his gaze in his lap.

“What? Don’t tell me you’ve gone and eloped,” Nora chided at their flustered display.

“No, of course not!” Nalani exclaimed. “It’s just that, well, a marriage would require a proposal first.”

Ah, Nora realized, therein lies the issue.

Her grin was so sharp the best of smiths would have been envious of its edge. She turned the full brunt of her attention on Kai with double the affable spite that the two islanders had levied against her when they’d arrived. All of it was born of good intention that only true friends could share, but such things were internal; deep, like the friendship itself. On the surface, all anyone would see was Nora bound and determined on making Kai uncomfortable.

The islander did his best to shrink away from her stare like a mouse caught in the open.

“Kaikoa Ochoa,” she scolded, “don’t tell me you haven’t the courage. What happened to that brazen personality of yours? All this time chasing after the girl and now that you have her you’d be so rude as to make her wait? Quite boorish of you.”

“Certain things have to be done right,” he defended himself timidly.

“Well, I look forward to hearing about how it was ‘done right’.” Nora laughed and knocked back the last of the ale in her mug.

“Yes, yes, good for you, you’ve gone and made things more awkward than we could,” Kai groaned, dropping his cheek onto a fist while he poked at his food.

“If we were to be married someday,” Nalani added sheepishly, “we’d like you to be there, of course.”

“Why, thank you,” Nora said as she rose. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d best go find my wayward…partner, before he gets into more trouble.”

Raegn stepped into the room and let his ears be filled by the sound of bubbling cauldrons. The savory scents of tender meats covered in spices and roasting vegetables were strong in the hot air. It had been some time since he’d wandered the cramped spaces of the kitchens bursting with the day’s fare. The offerings for the Justicar were more diverse than that of the Templar, always fresh and of better quality too, so there hadn’t been any need to sneak down and steal pastries or fruits. A pang of guilt struck him, though he wasn’t quite sure why until his eyes glimpsed a stout cook and his blonde assistant through a row of drying herbs hung from the ceiling.

“Ah, the mighty Justicar has decided to grace us with his presence,” Erkan said mockingly.

Raegn smiled. Some things, at least, might never change. He made his way to the back of the room where the cook was deftly carving away the meat from the bone of a cooked haunch. Lona stood at a table nearby, slicing onions into neat piles along the length of the wooden surface. She offered Raegn a shy smile as he passed her, but continued her work silently.

“You are Erkan the Eviscerator,” Raegn said as he reached the other side of the butchering table.

The knife stuck into the table with a loud thuck and the cook wiped his hands on his already soiled apron.

“Been through this before, lad. What in Heaven’s name gives you the impression that I would want to have this conversation again?”

Raegn pressed on without acknowledging Erkan’s disdain. He’d come here to confirm one thing and one thing only.

“The stories say your blades could cut through flesh and bone like they were butter,” he recalled.

“Aye, that they do,” Erkan said, sounding quite bored. The cook turned to the table behind him and began to organize various spoons laid out on a clean white towel.

“But not once,” Raegn continued, “in any of the stories, do they talk about daggers or knives. They only ever mention blades. I don’t believe you were a criminal before becoming an Inquisitor, either. Those are just parts of the story you fabricated - to make people think you would fight a certain way.”

The cook sighed, leaving his back to Raegn.

“Make your point, lad.”

Raegn raised his fist and rolled his wrist around to observe the skin on his hand. Faint veins pressed out just beneath the surface as he flexed his grip and drew in the Light.

“So long as you have the Light, you’re never unarmed,” he muttered, quoting Erkan’s lesson.

A blade of holy fire as long as a hand erupted out from atop Raegn’s knuckles. It glowed and crackled along its jagged edge and bathed his face in light. The old cook turned, grinning wildly at the young Justicar.

“You’ve got talent, boy,” he said, “but you lack a certain...refinement.”

Raegn’s eyes widened in awe as a clean blade of pure white appeared from the old Inquisitor’s fist. It lit up the room, dwarfing the ferocity of the weapon Raegn had manifested. While his was rough and unstable, Erkan’s was as steady as hammered steel. Even the best of Light-bearers struggled to alter its position once it took a physical form, Raegn’s tendons had felt like they were tearing every time he’d tried, yet the Inquisitor smoothly swung his arm in a few arcs, the blade keeping its perfect shape as he did so.

Erkan’s face bore a sly smile as the blade winked out of existence.

“The real trick is learning to wield it.”