The church has lost a significant amount of power since it began its crusade against all forms of demonic influence. It has been over one hundred and fifty years since Jacob the Brave led the charge for reformation of the cloth and steel leading to the decline of power we see now...

“Well, it’s something to be concerned about, isn’t it?” she replied with a small laugh.

Gwindon tensed up behind her. His eyes transfixed onto Icara and was stunned to find her maintain the deception of before without fail. Daylon moved a little closer, shifting his head from side to side at her. When Icara refused to lift her head, he turned to Gwindon with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, uh, she had her eyes damaged a few days ago. Just some minor burns on the outside, but she can hardly see right now,” he explained, stepping forward.

“How unfortunate. I’ve had skin burns before and had to deal with them a lot during my time in the holy cloth. Let me take a look at them and I could see if anything could improve her comfort,” he offered, extending a hand to Icara’s face.

She stepped away suddenly and put both hands to her temples. “Ah, forgive me sir, but I don’t wish to appear ugly before someone of your rank. Forgive my vanity,” she replied in a dainty tone.

Daylon paused his hand in the air, but refused to retract it. “I’m a man of the church, miss, there’s nothing to worry about. Just move your hand and I’ll—”

“A-Archpriest!” the meek woman interrupted him. “Please just let her be. Y-You’re not exactly the most tact about this sort of thing...”

He turned back towards her and opened his mouth to protest, but stopped. Icara relaxed her posture and bowed slightly to the priest. She turned her back and moved back towards Gwindon, tugging on his arm before they moved for the doorway.

“Hey, didn’t you have some business here? Can’t imagine you stopped by just to look at the scenery.”

Both of them froze in place at the entrance, unsure of where to head. Gwindon was the first to act, turning around and approaching the desk. His mind struggled to find a reason as he approached the woman. When he finally reached the looming desk, he put one hand on it and leaned forward.

“I’m wondering if... this place would have any records of my knighthood?”

The woman cocked an eyebrow, but nodded. She turned towards the wall and wrote a short request down before filing it away. Various footsteps sounded off from the other room and a silence took hold of the space. Daylon’s eyes seemed glued to Gwindon, making the older man flex his hands unconsciously. Icara watched carefully, pretending to rest her hands behind her head and placing them ready to draw her sword.

“So,” Daylon said, startling everyone with his deep voice. “You’re a knight? If you’d been travelling, shouldn’t you have gotten some sort of emblem before you left your home country?”

“Ah, well, I had to leave it behind a while ago. My exit from my kingdom was fairly sudden, so I couldn’t bring anything like that with me. I’ve gotten along without it for a long while, but I might be meeting some officials soon, and could use a way to signify my rank.”

Daylon shook his head and leaned back. “I’ve heard they used to engrave armors with the emblem of their home country before Jacob’s crusade. After that, there seemed to be some stigma against wearing iconography outside the church. What land are you from anyhow?”

“Drahsan, the Desert Rose. It’s an obscure place, I doubt many people in the plains would know about—”

“That country sounds familiar to me...” Daylon muttered to himself. “Wait a minute, I remember, their capital was destroyed by some monster. We had investigated that place a few years ago, looking into whether a demon had done it. There wasn’t any evidence one had been there, but it was a tragedy all the same. I hadn’t seen such brutal gore in a long time, and it sickens me that something like that can be caused by a creature out there.”

Gwindon continued to stare at the desk, his mind as glazed and distant as his eyes. Icara tried to take a step closer to him, but reminded herself not to draw Daylon’s attention. The room feel quiet after his description and time seemed to slow down until a gentle clink sounded off for the room. Gwindon lifted his head from the daze and the assistant unfolded an envelope.

“Sorry, I don’t think we have any records on that country. Or, um, w-well... we do. But there aren’t many on people who survived. There’s only one recorded instance of someone coming from that region, but...”

The woman yelped as Gwindon slammed his hands onto the desk. “Wait, someone from my homeland survived?! From the capital?!”

She nodded with her eyes closed before handing him the page. Gwindon took it quickly and turned around to read it. His eyes frantically darted over the page before the froze on a single line. The paleness in his face returned and slowly he continued to read more and more. Icara moved forward, ignoring Daylon for an instant and put a hand one Gwindon’s shoulder. He looked up at her with his eyes heavy and unfocused. She recoiled a bit from the sight, his stoic features openly emotional for once.

“What’s wrong?” Daylon asked empathetically. “Do you know who that person is?”

“She... she is my wife,” he answered, turning back and returning the parchment. “I’ll have to go looking for her now. Though I’d heard someone had survived the Rose’s fall, I never even imagined it might be her...”

Gwindon turned on his heel and started off for the door, with Icara following closely behind. Daylon narrowed his eyes a moment before he grabbed the page and looked over it himself. His eyes scanned over the page before fixating on the same spot Gwindon had.

“Wait... what exactly is your name?” Daylon asked.

“Oh, my name is Gwindon. Thank you for—”

“Not you,” Daylon responded, drawing his weapon. “Her name. Now.”

He wielded a massive warhammer covered in calligraphy engravings. It seemed to radiate a dull glow, showing off its bare enchantment. Weapons were often imbued with innocuous magical enhancements when used to fight demons. The energy required to maintain enchantments siphons from the creatures when they connect. It was an incredibly expensive process that required a rare metal to perform accurately. He readied the weapon in his hands and glared at them both.

“It’s not—” Gwindon began, but Icara held up a hand to stop him.

“Before I tell you sir, let me ask you... would the old man here be in trouble as well?”

“I’ve got a few questions for him, I’ll see how guilty he is from that. Why? Are you going to try and claim he wasn’t involved with your actions, Lilith?”

Icara paused a moment before lifting her head up completely and cocking it to the side. “Who’s Lilith?”

“You! Don’t try and play dumb, you’re using that bandage to hide the scar on your face, but it’s clear what you’re doing. Hoping to come here and see how much of a threat the church would be? You’re going to be brought down for what you’ve—”

“Wait, wait! I’m not Lilith!” Icara interrupted, lifting her hands up defensively.

Daylon leveled towards her and took another step forward. “Oh? Then why are you travelling with him then?”

“He bought me food,” she answered, holding up the apple she had finished in her left hand.

A great stillness passed over the room, abruptly cut by a stifled laugh from the meek assistant at the desk. Daylon rolled his eyes and maintained the grip on his hammer. Gwindon put one hand on the door, darting his eyes between Icara and Daylon. Though the bandages on her face were still holding, the various grabbing attempts and sweat was starting to weigh it down.

“Show your eyes then. If you don’t have a scar, you’ll be fine,” Daylon ordered.

Icara swallowed hard, but nodded. She reached behind her head slowly and turned to face Gwindon for a second. His eyes locked onto hers, and for a quick moment, he saw a wink pass under the fabric. They both turned back to Daylon and she flung the apple at his head. He swung at the sudden gesture, giving them enough time to force open the door and bolt out into the street.

Daylon charged after them, pulling his hammer up to swing. They all ran ahead into up the streets, the priest managing to gain more ground by the second despite his late start. He took a swing with his hammer, but the blow just barely missed them as they rounded out of an alley and back towards the marketplace.

Though the crowds had thinned, there was still a sizeable part of people moving around. Gwindon and Icara weaved into the masses, but found them scatter as the archpriest shouted. Icara reached for a basket of nails and spilled them onto the ground in front of Daylon. His armor feet crunched over them, threatening to stumble him for a moment as he regained his footing. In the spacing, Daylon grabbed a handful from the ground and chucked them at the fleeing woman as he ran.

She dodged away from them, but slammed into a stranger, which stunned her as Daylon charged up. Gwindon managed to get closer to her and offer a hand to help, but she froze as she looked over his shoulder. Amidst the ruckus of the chase, a carriage had gone out of control and began barreling through the street. In a panicked rush, she grabbed the offered hand and flips him out of the way of the carriage. The motion took too long for her to get out of the way on her own, forcing her to drop into a foetal position and let it speed over her.

The floor and wheels just barely managed to brush against her, landing rough hits to her body. She suffered the blows and struggled back to her feet, watching as Daylon merely moved to the side to avoid the damage. He paused the chase to order some other to help stop the vehicle, giving Icara enough time to get a head start. She bolted through the crowd, barely noticing the damage she’d taken from the cart. After breaking the busy streetline, she jumped into the nearest alley and hid in a seated position, gathering her breathf.

It took her a moment to realize she’d left Gwindon with Daylon behind, and she shot upward. She hesitated before even taking one step, remembering the image of the priest’s warhammer at the ready. Her eyes scanned the ground in front of her, struggling to figure out what to do. Only when she felt her face did she realize the wrapping was gone, lost in the chase to get here.

“See? I told you they were together! That’s gotta be her, why else would that priest be chasing her like a mad dog?” Came the familiar voice of the mercenary from earlier.

Icara sighed, closing her eyes and turning around slowly, where the sound of the footsteps were coming from. She could hear them getting closer, and brought a hand about for her sword.

“Looking to draw a weapon? Afraid you’re not going to be much of a match for me, sweetie.” came a beautiful and clear woman’s voice.

“Better than just letting some low-life take me in. Look, I’m kind of in the middle of something and would rather not have to kill you idiots. I need to go back and get Gwindon before that priest captures him.”

“Tell me, little girl. Who is Gwindon?” The woman asked, making the footsteps stop.

Icara tilted her head to the side in confusion before slowly opening her eyes. Blurriness covered everything, making her blink to adjust. As it did, she made out more and more of the prominent figure before her.

The woman was as tall as Gwindon, with a fitting match of armor that looked compiled from various random pieces. She had two swords and a shield on her person, with only the one in her right hand being drawn. As she drew closer, Icara could also make out bright green eyes and long blonde hair with a streak of white in it. Along her face, over the left eye, was a massive a jagged scar. Icara took a step back in shock and blinked once more to confirm the sight.

“Are you... Lilith?”

She held up the sword to Icara. “Answer me first, who is Gwindon?”

“He’s a friend of mine from the country of the Desert Rose.”

The woman smiled and kept her blade drawn. “Oh good, then you can help me find him. I’m guessing you already know he’s my husband?”

“Yes, and he’s out there being chased by a priest because the church is looking for you,” Icara explained and then paused. “What I don’t know is why.”

“Easy,” the woman answered. “Because Gwindon murdered me six years ago.”