Chapter 23: On The Hunt

Thinking about the usage of his power raised so many different questions. Gratt’s flapping mouth had informed him of many things that he would never had guessed. Following the logic of a patron God, he began to wonder which God granted him this power. Recalling the moments before his initiation to the hourglass brand, he remembered a voice that rang in his mind.

Dip into the well…

Hear their cries…

Present thyself…

Morr shook his head, unable to make a connection. The fake ID in his pocket had his path unreadable. It was scratched off, ineligible to his knowledge. Gratt’s mark came from Ceannlaidir, the patron god of warriors -- this much he was sure of. Warriors, from what he had seen, are always fighting and honing their weapons. It wouldn’t be a stretch to consider Ceannlaidir as a God of War in this sense. Priscilla’s mark came from Luathas -- according to her and Gratt -- as he is the patron God for all wizards. Morr recalled that Luathas was also known as the God of Divine Knowledge, and from Priscilla’s account, wizards had to be studious and diligent to progress in the wizard path.

If powers granted from a patron god are supposed to represent their nature, then what connection is there to his?

Recalling from a moment ago, he knew that there was some sort of ‘command’ he could give to Aislings. Aislings -- he was one, and so was his friends and the many adventurers on the continent of Temuair. What differentiates Aislings and Mundanes is a gift from Deoch, one of the gods discovered on Hy-Braysl. The Spark of Aisling, or rather, the birth of freedom -- it is more akin to a soul that can freely do whatever it is they want to do, and the only thing to stop them is themselves or those around them.

Morr thought back to the first time he used his gifted power.

The first incident was with Bishop Traitin, and he followed a simple command to kill Bishop Borker. It wasn’t a direct command; ‘Kill him’ was all he said, but the emotions directed at the person was enough to influence the command. It seemed that, in this case, an implied command worked well, otherwise Bishop Traitin would’ve killed any of the males on site.

The second incident included a dying wizard, ditched by his party members on the 5th floor of Mileth Crypt. This case intrigued him, so much so that he decided to base this play around the commands he gave to the wizard. ‘Be loyal’ and ‘Live forever’ were the two commands given within one instance. The wizard limped, and supposedly died after those two instructions. He didn’t know why the wizard died so suddenly, but when cross-referenced to this case, there could’ve been a few reasons.

Gratt, stiffed as a boulder with his hand on the hilt of his sword, walked over to Morr, who was in a trance.

The most likely suspect was that the command could only perform one action, not two. The reason behind this came from the validity of his commands. ‘Live forever,’ in this context, would be the same as ‘Survive from death for the next 90 seconds.’ In the next 90 seconds, the crossbowman had to strive to live until the clock ran out, but since the clock never made it to 90, it was essentially the same.

Morr deduced that implied commands defeats ambiguity. Especially in this case, when the warrior was given the command ‘decapitate this crossbowman, your brother, in 30 seconds…’ The crossbowman, if left to his own will, could’ve interpreted it in two ways: kill the crossbowman within the next 30 seconds, or kill the crossbowman after 30 seconds had pass. Interestingly, it seemed that Morr’s intention had some sort of a push-of-a-hand effect. The warrior counted down, without being told so, and carried out the action.

But, it seemed that it wasn’t possible for either of them to avoid death, at least not within their power and will. The wizard had been poisoned by the scorpion, his skin grew dangerously pale, and he ultimately would die due to poison or from Morr’s invalid command. The crossbowman ran on what little strength his body could muster, but ultimately died as well. In context, they were both given a command to keep themselves from dying if possible.

So the command ‘Live forever’ wasn’t an issue; it was not possible for either of them to avoid dying. ‘Live forever,’ if taken an interpretive approach, could also mean to survive within the realm of possibility. For both the wizard and the crossbowman, they tried to survive for a second longer, and they did their best just like anyone would.

Then, was the command, ‘Be loyal,’ the issue that caused the wizard to not carry out his order? Was it an invalid command that caused the wizard to die? However, the more he pondered about Bishop Traitin and the warrior that tried to kill him, the less likely it was a possibility to be an issue. If the possibility that cognitive impairment and disorientation wasn’t a possible effect of the command he gave, then why was it possible for Bishop Traitin to murder Bishop Borker? To kill someone close to you must be a daring task. They both served the same church and were seemingly acquainted. However, if familiarity was a key issue, then how was it possible for the warrior to murder the crossbowman, especially if they were brothers? The warrior and crossbowman were supposedly brothers, but the warrior killed him despite being so. Morr concluded that there had to be some sort of cognitive impairment, or at the very least, some sort of effect that allows the recipient to ignore his own thoughts and will.

So, if cognitive impairment and disorientation was a possible effect, then why did the wizard die from his order?

Morr thought that, with the given information he learned so far, gaining complete loyalty would be a valid effect. So, if ‘Be loyal’ and ‘Live forever’ were two valid commands, then for the wizard to not carry out his orders would mean that it was not possible to give two orders. So far, he had only been able to decreed one order onto anyone before they died. It was also possible that the wizard could have had carry out both commands, but he died a second after the commands were given.

Morr likened his power to a teacher asking their students a question. The students may not know the answer to the question, but they’ll try their best to answer it. The rogue, when commanded to tell Morr what his name was, responded by uttering incoherent noises. Given that Morr had never met the rogue, he knew it wasn’t possible for the rogue to answer his command. If his line of thought was true, then he could give any command with an implicit target, but the result will be based on the victim’s ability to carry it out.

“Are you… ok?” Gratt cautiously waved his hands in front of Morr, who seemed to be in a completely different world. He didn’t see anything of what previously occurred; his body was paralyzed when he crashed into a sarcophagus, and his field of vision was concentrated towards the ceiling. But he did remember the misconfigured young man just before he heard the adventurers’ cries.

Morr shook his head and concluded that whether he was on the right track or not, he needed more tests to perform. And to perform more tests, he would need more victims. More victims would mean more lives forfeited. Thinking back to how all of this should be connected to a patron God, Morr thought that the God who granted him his powers must be incredibly demanding. The white wall of flame came to mind, but what exactly was it, or who was it, was a question left unanswered.

“I’m fine.” Morr reassured. “I’m just thinking about how useless their armors and weapons will be on their dead bodies. If we just take it for ourselves…”

“Defiling their corpse?!” Gratt exclaimed. “Don’t you have any shame?!”

He cupped his mouth and pinched his lips immediately after recalling who he was talking to. The young man in front of him somehow killed three adventurers that were equipped better than both of them. To at least do that, one would need to have an immense strength, and he wanted to be as far away as possible from the receiving end of it.

“So, should we just leave their body and equipment here to rot and rust?” Morr asked.

“At the very least, we could place them into those coffins.” Gratt pointed to a nearby coffin. “I mean, that’s what they’re used for, right?”

Gratt got to work immediately. The crossbowman and his head were placed in one coffin, attached, with the lid closed. The warrior was next, and so was his silver axe and backpack. Last was the rogue and his weapons, and as Gratt carried the body, he couldn’t help but wonder how, exactly, did the rogue die. There weren’t any lethal marks like that of a sword, nor were there any bruises from a kick or punch. His line of thought was quickly and forcefully cut off by himself; there was some things better not knowing if he wanted to prolong his life.

Gratt stared at the skeleton depiction on the lid of the coffin he just closed. The great hammer used by the marauder had a similar depiction, and his brother stopped him from touching it. The thought of being cursed by physical contact sounded so silly to him, but his brother seemed to be really hung up on it.

Gratt shook his head and relinquished the thought. “I’m thinking too much today. Just swing my sword, that’s it. That’s all I have to do. Nothing else… matters.”

“What’s wrong?” Morr asked as he watched Gratt suddenly paused.

“Ah!” Gratt jumped back from the coffin, startled by Morr’s sudden voice. Stranger-danger senses were tingling; seeing the dead bodies and remembering that frightening laughter made him realize that he didn’t know this guy at all. The sudden thought of their argument sat in his stomach. Uncomfortable with the situation at hand, Gratt felt the need to somehow dissuade all notions of remotely being an enemy.

“Uh… So… how was your day?” Gratt awkwardly asked. He took a step back, cracked a smile, and scratched his head. As long as Morr was within his field-of-view, then he trusted his reflexes to react to any foreseeable danger.

“Uh… Let’s go…?” Morr, a bit freaked out by Gratt’s sudden change of nature, proposed to go forward.

“R-right!” Gratt quickly nodded and pointed towards the stairway to the 8th floor of Mileth Crypt. “After you!”

“Sure…” Morr shrugged off the weird tension between them and walked ahead.

***

Pathfinder’s Inn, Mileth City…

The inn hosted a boastful amount of customers. The lobby was neatly decorated with lumber-carved sculptures of famous adventurers. A line formed in front of the front desk, and all of the customers seemed to be of high rank. Their equipments were shiny, as if brand new -- and their body were tone, fitting for one in a trade of hunt. Casual clothing didn’t seem to be a thing here, for all of them were in their respectful path’s attire.

Their chit-chat was mostly about the cleanliness and impressiveness of the inn. Boasting five-story high, the inn had its first floor for business inquiries, and the second to fifth floor were for lodging. What connected those floors were two grand spiraling staircase, meticulously crafted from lumber of the highest quality. As one walked up and down, they could learn stories engraved on the rails of the staircase. It was not only on the rails, but the ceilings too. Beautiful murals were masterfully painted onto the ceiling, depicting mythological adventurers who were pioneers from their time.

Soldiers and Guards were stationed outside of the inn, away from their vicinity so that they wouldn’t scare customers but, at the same time, be able to react in case of emergencies. Soldier May was part of one of the patrol squad. Guard Crol was also here to lead her squad with his gaze fixed onto inn’s entrance. Under the starry night, it wasn’t easy to see them when they hid behind trees or in bushes.

Soldier May, after watching the inn’s doorway for so long, sneaked towards Guard Crol. “Is the suspect really here?”

Guard Crol hid behind a large tree just a few meters away from the inn. “Yes. Black hood, black robe. Watch for it.”

Soldier May grew doubtful. Their team had been watching the inn since sunrise, but not a single person had left or enter that matched his description. “Not to be disrespectful, sir, but what are the chances that our source was wrong?”

“Impossible.” Guard Crol naturally denied. The thought of this source being wrong never crossed his mind.

Soldier May turned her eyes toward the building once more, and tried her best to keep her eyelids from falling. One person walked in, and another walked out. Ten minutes later, another one walked in and another walked out. None of them fit his description.

Guard Crol glanced at his fellow soldiers who were stiffed as a board. They needed something to do, something lively and energetic. Their eyes may be watching the entrances and exits, but their minds were dead tired from a full day of work.

“Soldier Marin,” Guard Crol called out to a soldier ten feet away, hiding under a pile of grass, “run to the nearest bakery and grab us some food.”

“Yes, sir!” Soldier Marin subtly moved from his position and ran off.

“Soldier Botch,” Guard Crol called out to a soldier who had his eyes on the Aislings on the road, “inform position 12 and position 6 to rotate. They could use a new scenery for a change.”

“Yes, sir!” Soldier Botch snapped into position and ran off.

“Sir, if I may ask, who exactly are we searching for?” Soldier May inquired.

Guard Crol glanced at her and asked, “Do you really want to know?”

“Sir, I do!” Soldier May saluted.

“Too bad, even I don’t know.” Guard Crol laughed.

“What?” Soldier May disappointgly said. “What do you mean by that? How can you not know?”

“Truth is, even the description I was given could fit anyone.” Guard Crol sighed. “We were given general details about a criminal, rather than specifics. But we must do this. We have to do this.”

“We’ll just pull them over and check their bodies, right?” Soldier May asked.

“Correct.” Guard Crol confirmed. “We know that the person wears a black hood and black robe.”

“But… couldn’t they just take their clothes off and change into a different one?” Soldier May pondered.

“No, not this one.” Guard Crol confidently said. “This one… the one we’re after… is a Priestess of Sgrios.”

Soldier May fell into a complete silence upon hearing him. A Priestess of Sgrios… A Priestess who worships the God of Death… Soldier May only needed to hear that to have her eyes fully awake, aggressively searching everyone in her vicinity wearing a black hood and black robe.

Guard Crol nodded. “It’s good that you know what’s at stake. Would you believe me if I told you who my source is?”

“If that is confidential, I would rather not impose.” Soldier May said.

“No, not this one.” Guard Crol shook his head. “Everyone already knows about this one, far and wide.”

“Then… who?” Soldier May inquired. “Could it be from one of the Greater Guilds?”

“Bigger. Wider.” Guard Crol teased.

“Bigger and wider than the Greater Guilds…” Soldier May rested her chin onto her hand. “Was it from a king?”

“Bigger. Wider. Here’s a hint: a king may be known in his kingdom, but this one is known throughout the continent.” Guard Crol said.

Soldier May pondered, resting her chin onto her hand. A soft ‘no way’ escaped her mouth upon realization. There was only one force she could think of that they would accept requests from. A force that’s even more known than a king, a force that would match the criteria of Guard Crol… “It can’t be…”

“Oh? Finally figured it out?” Guard Crol asked. “Tell me, who is it?”

“The Rangers of Temuair…” Soldier May said with a lingering awe.

“The Rangers of Temuair.” Guard Crol nodded.

Soldier May was amazed that they received a request from the Rangers of Temuair. The Rangers were the external force in all of Temuair. They were the ones who settled disputes between Aislings and Mundanes. To this date, only two laws have been passed in Temuair: don’t harm the Mundanes, and the separation of ranks for adventurers. But her amazement soon wore off when she thought about the implication of their current duty.

“Wait… don’t tell me…” Soldier’s May astonished face became grim. “If the Rangers are searching for the person in a black hood and black robe… that means that this person harmed a Mundane… right?”

Guard Crol nodded. “It’s as you suspect, but worse. The Priestess of Sgrios we’re after killed a Mundane, and the Rangers are currently in pursuit. Guard Captain hasn’t told us much, but he did instruct us to rally our squads and patrol all possible section of Mileth. Further updates led us to believe that this Priestess of Sgrios is currently hiding in Mileth. Bulletin boards have been posted with a reward for any information regarding this Priestess. Even the Mundanes have been warned to stay inside with company of more than two. It’s only a matter of time until she’s caught.”

Soldier May felt relieved. A criminal wanted by the Rangers must be incredibly dangerous. More so if they’ve been able to escaped for more than a minute. No one, reportedly, has ever escaped from the Rangers grasped, so this was thrilling for her and also frightening at the same time. But then one location popped up in her head. A location she knew that wasn’t well guarded by their own military.

“Are soldiers and guards stationed inside Mileth Crypt?” Soldier May worriedly asked.

“No.” Guard Crol denied. “Unfortunately not, but you know our situation. We can only send soldiers as far as to the entrance.”

“Then… what do we do if the Priestess of Sgrios is down there?!” Soldier May frantically asked.

“Calm down.” Guard Crol waved his hand. “It may seem like we’re the only ones doing things, but Guard Captain was extremely at ease when he told me this. It was like he wasn’t worried at all about the Priestess being inside Mileth. Can you guess why?”

“Guess why?!” Soldier May silently shouted. “How can you be so calm! What if adventurers are dying as we speak below Mileth Crypt?! What if more Mundanes or even Aislings die by her hands?! Shouldn’t we be taking precautionary measures to ensure that nothing escalates to the death of over a hundred people?! This is a Priestess of Sgrios we’re talking about here! A worshipper of the God of Death!”

Soldier May stressfully pulled her ponytail as her restless mind thought of the many different possibilities that could have occurred with a Priestess of Sgrios in play. Them talking and chatting without doing anything already had her at the brink of worry.

“Calm down and think.” Guard Crol instructed. “I said that Guard Captain was extremely at ease, right? Why would someone in a position of the safety of Mileth Citizens be so calm when he heard that a criminal was in his city?”

Soldier May shook her head. “I just can’t see why he would be calm in a situation like this unless the safety of Mileth and its citizen was guaranteed. And for that to be guaranteed against a Priestess of Sgrios, then someone stronger than the criminal had to be here to ensure it… someone like a Ranger -- OH!”

“Exactly.” Guard Crol laughed. “Guard Captain didn’t explicitly say it, but it wouldn’t be a reach to say that a Ranger is here to hunt the criminal. A Ranger’s skill shouldn’t be taken lightly; I’d suggest to see one perform live, in person if possible. Also, all of the soldiers and Guards are on duty to make sure nothing gets out of hand.”

“Ah…” Soldier May slapped herself in the face. “I’m never going to be a Guard, let alone a Ranger, at this rate.”

“You live and you learn, right?” Guard Crol patted her shoulder. “It’s good that you’re worry about the safety of Mileth and its citizens, but you must have the audacity to think. Think, before you make a move. From the looks of it, you were on the right track.”

“No…” Soldier May shook her head. “If I weren’t here talking to you, I would’ve ran off and tried to do something silly.”

“All I can say is keep up the good work.” Guard Crol complimented. “The path to being a Ranger is really hard; even I don’t think I can make it within my lifetime. But if you really want it, then you can definitely do it. You already have my clout to be a Guard for the next term, and people rarely get my clout.”

“Yes, sir.” Soldier May saluted with a soft voice.