Memoirs 195 - Looming horizons (Patreon)

Amidst the assemblage of confused and, for some, fearful cries echoing through the camp, Scarlett’s eyes remained fixed on the ominous silhouette of Anguish’s citadel looming over the horizon. While not overwhelming for her, the sheer dread that seemed to almost enshroud the structure like a veil felt truly otherworldly.

Eventually, she diverted her attention away from the citadel and swung open the carriage door, stepping down on the ground beside Fynn. The white-haired young man shot her a quizzical look as she motioned for him to follow, and together, they navigated the now-bustling encampment. Among the gathering of faces that they passed by, almost all wore expressions ranging from bewilderment to alarm, their complexions tainted by the eerie crimson aura radiating from the citadel. Even Shin and Allyssa, standing alongside a cluster of wounded guardsmen, seemed caught up in its sudden appearance.

Spotting Sir Home amid a small assembly of knights, Scarlett guided her walk towards the knight captain, with Fynn shadowing behind her.

“Captain Home,” she said, her voice cutting through the ambient atmosphere as she reached the man.

He continued staring at Anguish’s citadel for a couple of seconds, his furrowed brow betraying his dark thoughts, but soon he turned to Scarlett. “…Baroness, do you know what’s—”

“I do not,” she interrupted him, “but the demonic miasma enveloping that structure is unmistakable. I believe there is no doubt that it is somehow connected to the demonic presence we came here to investigate.”

For a fleeting moment, Sir Home seemed uncertain how to respond to that, his eyes flickering towards the citadel. Eventually, he gave a curt nod. “You’re right. It’s as though merely looking at it will cause my skin to crawl off. Such an abomination has no place in our realm. It’s an affront to His Majesty and Ittar himself.”

“That it is.” Scarlett followed his gaze towards the citadel, where its obsidian spires did seem to mock the very heavens. Despite that, she found herself most annoyed by the fact that it was trying to tell her how to feel.

She had issues.

And if she had any say in it, Anguish would be the one to pay for some of them.

She cast a glance at those men next to Sir Home. Five of them were knights who had accompanied them in dealing with the Vilewyrm, while the rest seemed to be officers in charge of the guardsmen who had joined from Bridgespell. Though these people were probably seasoned soldiers, even they seemed to have a difficult time tearing their gazes away from the citadel. This unnerving aura that hung in the air would certainly take its toll on the men if it were allowed to continue. Sir Home would need to exert his authority soon.

Scarlett’s attention then shifted towards Crowcairn and the enigmatic grey barrier that enveloped the village. “This development could spell trouble for our current situation,” she remarked.

Sir Home turned to her, his eyes moving to the settlement as well. “I agree,” he replied in a somber tone.

“That is why I have a proposition.”

“A proposition?”

Scarlett nodded. “Given that I am the most experienced with demons, I propose that I investigate that structure which has appeared. We cannot afford to abandon our siege while the Tribe of Sin remains entrenched within the village. Moreover, we have no way of knowing when reinforcements will arrive to aid us in our current circumstances. As such, it is only logical for me to take the initiative.”

Sir Home nodded his head towards Anguish’s citadel. “You want to go closer to that?”

“I do not want it, no, but circumstances demand it. Ignoring its presence would be unwise.”

The knight wore a pensive expression, seemingly wrestling with her proposal. “In truth, I think something of this scale should be left to groups like the Dawnbreakers and Solar Knights. However, you’re right in that we don’t know when or if they’ll arrive to address this. It also feels as if that thing is pressing down on my very soul even when being this far away, and I barely dare to think what kind of impending catastrophe its presence might imply. Entrusting it to an outsider, though… I hope you understand, Baroness, but that makes me uneasy as well.”

“Do you consider yourself better suited for the task?” Scarlett asked.

Sir Home’s lips formed a tight line. He surveyed his men before releasing a sigh. “I’m not confident in saying so, no.” He shook his head. “Blazes swallow the Tribe and all its members. Their disregard for all that is virtuous truly knows no bounds.” He met Scarlett’s gaze. “By the authority bestowed by His Grace Duke Valentino, I grant you permission to investigate what is happening here. I’ll dispatch some of my men with you, but I ask that you exercise caution. And if there’s no other recourse, simply retreat and wait for help to arrive.”

“You may keep your men here, Captain. I trust in the capabilities of my own retainers.”

“While I no longer doubt your competence, Baroness, I’m afraid I can’t accept that. Please take a few of these knights with you, at least.” He gestured to the men next to him, who had finally torn their eyes away from the citadel.

Scarlett studied them briefly. “…Very well.”

Ideally, she would have preferred to have no outside interference in her affairs, but considering the circumstances, this was about as good as things would get. These knights might prove useful in their own way.

“We shall depart without delay,” she said, turning around and scanning their surroundings. Her eyes landed on a cluster of horses tethered a good distance from the frontline. “I assume your men will not be requiring their steeds for the time being, Captain. May we borrow them?”

While the carriage could transport them part of the way, the terrain might not be as accommodating the whole way. Though she lacked experience riding a horse herself, and it was unclear if the original Scarlett had any, that was still likely to be the most practical solution. In the worst-case scenario, she could ride with one of the knights.

“Take as many as you need. If you require anything else, simply say the word. In fact, it might be wise to bring along some of the mages as well.”

“No, that will not be necessary. They are already exhausted and stretched thin as it is. The knights will suffice.”

Scarlett’s gaze drifted back to Crowcairn, her brows knitting in thought. The potential development from here still left a bitter taste in her mouth, but that shouldn’t be her primary concern right now. For the time being, things were moving to her advantage. The ultimate outcome for the village itself and its inhabitants would have to be up to fate.

Or perhaps the inverse, given how things worked in this world.

Either way, her role and involvement here would have to be put on pause. Whether they would resume again later, she couldn’t tell.

As she began walking back towards the carriage, she sent Fynn to retrieve Allyssa and Shin. Meanwhile, Sir Home issued orders to his men and seemed to brace himself for whatever this new development would bring.

From this point onward, things would start for real.

“Oh, something just happened,” Raimond remarked with an air of brevity that maybe, possibly, ever-so-slightly, did not quite fit the seriousness of the situation. “Ah, now this is rather dire. I do believe it’s growing closer to manifesting as we speak. I am beginning to reconsider my being here.”

His gaze was locked on the behemoth of a structure that dominated the horizon. Its impossibly black walls and spires, ensconced in an ever-consuming crimson aura, were clearly visible even through the grey barrier of the Phantom Sanctum that cut through the fabric of reality before him.

“Can you identify which Vile it might belong to?” Deacon Solnate’s steely voice emerged from the golden sphere in Raimond’s right hand as a silvery glow emanated from its core.

“Unfortunately, I cannot,” Raimond said. “I’m afraid I am far from the right person to answer that question. If that was what you sought, perhaps it would have been better to send Deacon Townsend on this task instead.”

“Not everyone can shirk their responsibilities as you do, Deacon Abram,” the deacon in question’s voice echoed from the artifact in Raimond’s hand.

Raimond smiled to himself. “Nonsense! You simply need to be more resourceful. Heed my word; spend a week in my company, and I’ll have you handling half your duties while producing double the results! It’s all about delegation!”

“Don’t get sidetracked,” Deacon Solnate interrupted. “Deacon Abram, how does the situation look with Duke Valentino’s forces?”

Raimond averted his gaze from the looming citadel and traced the edge of the Sanctum’s barrier. To the west, a few hundred or so meters away, he could see signs of an encampment through the grey barrier.

“It’s difficult to discern accurately from here,” he replied, observing the small group of villagers near the edge of the Sanctum, keeping a vigilant watch over those outside. While Raimond could keep himself hidden, he did not like his chances of doing so while the people were actively searching for any threats. “Though I can’t confirm the extent of their results, it seems the duke’s people are persisting in their efforts to breach the Sanctum’s barrier. The villagers carried out a raid earlier, presumably because they felt threatened, but I can’t tell much about the outcome of that raid.”

“So the duke’s forces aren’t pushing for the citadel, at least?” Deacon Solnate asked.

“It appears the majority are holding their ground for now.”

Truthfully, he might be exaggerating how effective the barrier was in obstructing his view. Luminous Gaze and Raimond’s other surveillance spells had revealed more than he let on. Among the observations he’d made, he had noticed a lone carriage with a few rides heading towards the citadel. The barrier did obscure some details, but he had a sneaking suspicion that he recognized that particular carriage.

Of course, it was possible his mind was playing tricks on him. Mirages were a phenomenon that even the most discerning of minds could fall prey to. He was certain that there was some adage about trusting one’s senses entirely being unwise, and since he was nothing if not a perfectionist, he felt compelled to verify what he had seen before sharing it with his fellows. His hands were tied.

It wouldn’t do to give possibly incorrect information to members of the Quorum, after all.

He coughed into his fist for no reason whatsoever.

“That’s reassuring,” Deacon Solnate replied, though the inflection in her voice didn’t suggest her being especially pleased. “Our forces have already mobilized in Bridgespell, and the Dawnbreakers have been readying themselves since we received the Augur’s revelation. Those available are en route as we speak and should arrive within a few hours. We can only hope it’s enough time to intervene before whatever is transpiring.”

“Hope alone may not suffice in this situation,” a grumpy voice interjected. Deacon Gresham was seldom one to bother concealing his displeasure during Quorum meetings. “We could very well be witnessing the partial manifestation of one of the Blazes in the Material Realm. An event of this magnitude hasn’t occurred since the Desolation Calamity. I said we should have acted swiftly as soon as we received the revelation.”

“We lacked sufficient information to make such a decision,” the calm, if weathered, voice of Deacon Davenport rang out. “If we had acted too soon, we could instead have caused a repeat of the Quickwallow incident.”

“And that would have been preferable to this.”

“You would not have spoken such reckless words if you had been there to witness the aftermath.”

Raimond chose silence as the two deacons engaged in their argument. He extended his hand, touching the peculiar surface of the Sanctum’s barrier. It left an unsettling sensation on his skin as the barrier refused to let him through, as if the world itself said that the space before him was not there and, as such, impassable.

During his tenure as a deacon of the Quorum, he had come to learn it was wise to keep quiet when Deacon Gresham grew heated about anything. Admittedly, he didn’t always heed that lesson, especially in moments like this, where he had been one of the most vocal proponents against taking action prematurely. But there were times when even he knew to keep his lips closed.

Brief as they were.

“Then the next time we face such a situation,” Deacon Gresham said with a few hints of annoyance, “I suggest leaving it to me instead of allowing some pompous idler to handle it.”

Deacon Solnate finally spoke up. “Enough of this bickering. We can revisit these discussions later. For now, focus on the pressing matters. Deacon Abram, what’s the situation with the Tribe of Sin?”

“Hmph, yes, I suppose we must address that as well,” Deacon Gresham muttered.

“To think that there would be a Tribe enclave there,” another voice sounded out from the artifact in Raimond’s hand. Deacon Alston was not one to easily get caught up in the moods of others.

“Do you think that the Sanctum they erected will withstand the attacks from Duke Valentino’s forces, Deacon Abram?” Deacon Solnate asked.

“Hmm, you are posing quite a few challenging questions today.” Raimond crossed his arms. “I will say that the barrier doesn’t seem particularly sturdy compared to what I have heard of similar examples. However, the duke’s men have only a handful of mages. While they might eventually breach the barrier, I’m uncertain if they’ll do so in time. The villagers are already preparing to flee. Although their Sanctumbrum doesn’t seem especially potent, it should eventually have gathered enough power to open a gate.”

At the moment, it seemed like it was entirely up to chance to determine which side would succeed in their goal first.

“Are you aware of what involvement the Tribe members in that village had in the citadel’s appearance?” Deacon Alston asked.

“Not much, it would seem,” Raimond replied. “That is, if I were to judge by the shocked and horrified expressions on the faces of the villagers and children when it first manifested. But who knows what dark teachings they’ve imparted upon their offspring? Perhaps it is all a part of a dastardly plot orchestrated by the toddlers. After all, it is suspicious that I have yet to see any of them display their fear.”

“Enough theatrics,” Deacon Gresham grumbled. “I am already all too familiar with your opinion on this topic, but we aren’t asking what your bleeding heart thinks of those that have pretended to live in this village. We are asking what you know of their involvement in what is happening now, Abram. You don’t truly expect us to believe it’s merely a coincidence that this event happened near one of the Tribe’s enclaves?”

“No, but it doesn’t seem they are directly involved, either. I have overheard some villagers make mentions of a third party who could be, however. An individual they’ve had dealings with and have reason to suspect. The village head seems to be of the opinion she is the reason Duke Valentino’s forces are currently besieging them. A form of diversion, if you will.”

“And who is this person?”

“They referred to her as ‘Malachi’.”

“Malachi?” Deacon Townsend suddenly spoke, voice serious.

“You recognize the name?” Raimond asked.

“…I do, unfortunately.” From the other end of the communication artifact, the man appeared to issue an order to one of his subordinates before returning his attention to the channel. “The woman who is now known as ‘Malachi’ used to be a member of our order, and someone I knew personally. However, her history turned out to contain problematic elements, and she displayed an excessive interest in demons and the Blazes, even conducting research outside what was allowed. There isn’t time for details now, but she was excommunicated and continued her research independently, becoming a persistent thorn in my side for years. She is exceedingly dangerous and highly skilled at concealing her presence. To hear she’s involved in this… It doesn’t surprise me.”

“Well, she sounds like a delightful individual, judging by the way the villagers described her,” Raimond said.

His gaze drifted to the towering structure in the distance, signifying that a Vile was forcing more of its existence into the Material Realm than any had for several generations. While the details related to exactly how this had happened remained scarce, the questions burned in his mind. Particularly regarding the connection between this Malachi and a certain bard he had arrived together with in this village just a couple of days prior.

“If that is who we’re dealing with, then it should be of no surprise she would collaborate with the Tribe of Sin,” Deacon Whiteley’s bright voice entered the conversation, speaking for the first time since the communication channel had been established.

“If the Tribe members cooperated with this woman, then they may still possess valuable information,” Deacon Gresham said. “If they manage to escape without us learning anything, it could make a terrible situation even worse.”

“What do you suggest we do?” Deacon Alston asked. “As Deacon Solnate mentioned, our forces won’t arrive for a few more hours.”

“But we have our own Deacon Abram there, right at this very moment. It would seem he is in the perfect position to take action. The Tribe members haven’t detected his presence, if I am to understand things correctly. If he gains unobstructed access to their Sanctumbrum, he could potentially dismantle the Phantom Sanctum and cooperate with Duke Valentino’s men to deal with those hiding in the village.”

Raimond furrowed his brows.

“Your proposal is unreasonable in the current context,” Deacon Solnate said, leaving Raimond with a lingering regret for missing the opportunity to witness the scowl that no doubt must have creased Old Gresham’s wrinkled face.

Her words sometimes told a different tale, but Raimond always felt he could trust Ava to offer him support when he was in need. Sometimes.

“Sanctumbrums are Zuver make,” his dear colleague continued, “and they have consistently proven difficult to interfere with or break. Furthermore, they remain a mystery to operate for anyone outside of the Cabal and Tribe. Deacon Abram would not be able to bring down the Sanctum by himself, even if he is trapped within its barrier.

“Hmph,” Gresham let out a dissatisfied noise. “Then what else is he good for?”

“Why, am I not affording you a vividly detailed account of the unfolding events?” Raimond proclaimed. “I daresay none can rival me in that regard, albeit because I am undoubtedly one of very few in possession of a limitless communication artifact within the citadel’s vicinity.”

“Ray,” Deacon Solnate said, her tone laced with exasperation. “This is not the time for your antics.”

“There is no point in telling him. He never knows when the proper time for anything is.”

“Your complaint, Deacon Gresham, has been duly noted,” Raimond responded with newfound solemnity. “Henceforth, I shall endeavour to always carry with me a watch, as to ensure I do not repeat such an offense.”

More than a couple of sighs escaped his communication artifact as his colleagues chose not to offer their opinions on his pledge.

Rude, undoubtedly, but perhaps not entirely unwarranted.

“To bring the discussion back to what’s relevant,” Deacon Whiteley began, “only half of the Dawnbreakers could answer the call to Bridgespell on such short notice, but I believe that, along with—”

Raimond allowed the ensuing conversation to recede into the recesses of his mind, stashing the words away in a drawer for later as he contemplated the infernal citadel on the horizon.

Fortune’s favor and Ittar’s light had certainly shined down upon them in that the Augur’s revelation arrived when it did. The prospect of such a cataclysmic event occurring without the slightest preparation left him uneasy. Even armed with the information they had, what was to come remained uncertain. The others believed—or hoped, as Ava had said—that the Dawnbreakers would be able to arrive in time to prevent whatever might happen.

Raimond wasn’t quite as confident in that belief.

Maintaining a firm grasp on the invaluable communication artifact in his right hand, his left hand reached into his robes, retrieving an unassuming seashell. Its mundane, serrated surface would likely elude notice from most, possibly to be tossed into the nearest body of water by the casual passerby.

As he ran his thumb over it, he gazed into the distance.

A once-in-a-decade treasure in exchange for the slender chance of averting a once-in-a-century catastrophe. That was a decent enough bargain, he supposed.

Turning his head, he glanced over his shoulder and back towards Crowcairn, where he observed villagers moving about the outskirts of the village, unaware of his presence. Departing under the current circumstances did little to kindle his enthusiasm, yet occasions did arise when prioritization was necessary.

Though the admission of that left him feeling more a failure than anything else these last few months.

“Deacon Abram.”

Ava’s voice caught his attention, snapping him back to the ongoing conversation among his fellow Quorum members.

“Can you continue to monitor the situation while we await our forces?”

Raimond smiled despite himself. “Alas, dear Ava, that won’t be possible.”

“Of course that is what he says,” Gresham complained, perhaps—but probably not—echoing the sentiments of some other deacons.

“…And why is that?” Deacon Solnate asked, with a tone that suggested she wouldn’t like what she was about to hear.

She knew him all too well.

Raimond tossed the seashell into the air, catching it casually. “Well, I believe the answer to that is rather obvious, is it not? An above of malevolence and anarchy has materialized from the very heart of the Blazes themselves, poised to unleash untold havoc upon this idyllic realm we call home. As a dutiful citizen of the empire, a faithful servant of Ittar, and a devoted deacon of our estimable Quorum, I cannot, in good conscience, stand idly by, can I?”

“Raimond, don’t do anything foolis—”

“It’s too late for that, I’m afraid,” he said. “I eagerly anticipate enduring your stern reprimands and punishments in the future. But until then, I bid you all adieu.”

Lifting the seashell before him, he aimed it directly at the Sanctum’s barrier blocking his path, towards the ominous structure beyond. He channeled a strand of mana into the artifact.

In response, a blinding cascade of light engulfed him, accompanied by what he was certain were nothing but joyous proclamations of admiration from his colleagues, wishing him the best of luck.

Surely.