Where Spirits Tremble

The night spent at Mariel’s family home was a peaceful one, a wonderful distraction from the high tension and guard rotation that they’d grown used to after the battle with the manticore. When everyone was awake and having eaten their share, they all knew it wasn’t a great idea to linger. By now, they believed, The Dark Lord was almost certainly aware that they had begun to move, and that meant if they lingered in this village for too long, it would likely be attacked by dark forces. Not wanting to risk the safety of the civilians, Illya ordered that they all leave the moment they are able after breakfast. Deciding that it would be best to avoid going into smaller villages unless they absolutely had to, they pored over their map to determine where their next stop would be. The next major city on their path would be Valtetion, a well rounded city that was known for its legendary defense against a massive dragon that once sought to make the city its nest.

“Really? How’d they manage to do that?” Renji’s the first to ask. None are surprised by his question, given he isn’t from this world, though it may be easy to forget sometimes.

“It’s a legend everyone knows. They used these mighty ballistae to combat the great black dragon Vidofnir. They say it had tried to nest in the city, but the city’s greatest engineer created a ballista capable of piercing even Vidofnir’s scales. Since then, they’ve made way more of those, and they’re always ready just in case another monster comes along to try and attack their city.” Nemi closes her eyes, recalling the visage of the city as she describes it. She desperately wished she could have been there to see the legendary conflict take place with her own eyes. “There have been more attacks, but that dragon has by far been the biggest one. I heard even a great turtle attacked the city once.”

Despite Nemi’s excitement, he felt his blood go cold. Tiamat shivered. Something about the city unsettled her, but she was holding her tongue. After the moment had passed, Renji paused, Nemi’s rambles on folklore had begun to drift into background noise. Tiamat had mentioned that she and Renji were more connected, and that they’d be able to speak more easily, but he had underestimated just how strong their connection had become. Renji realized there and then that he hadn’t just become blessed by Tiamat, he had become her chosen. Her words calling him a “champion” lingered in the back of his mind. Where did this end for him, he wondered? Were there more consequences that he had yet to foresee?

The next set of days were a pleasant blur. Hestia taught him a lot about the natural vegetation of Aetheros. A lot of what, to him, might seem familiar and edible, is indeed toxic and would either prove lethal, or cause the party to come down with a violent stomachache. It was moments like those where he was thankful to have brought her along, and the nutritional balance of the meals she provided kept them all going. Not a single one among the party felt weak or tired, even during minor conflicts. Bandits, hungry beasts, the party were able to breeze by them without so much as a hiccup on their journey, leaving the party feeling positively motivated.

The reception they’d receive from villages that they’d pass were a mix, however. One of them had been more friendly, providing Princess Illyandaril’s party with a bounty of food and tools to help them, while another village wouldn’t even look their way, the rare heckler shouting profanities their way—though for what possible purpose, Renji could only theorize. Illyandaril wasn’t used to this kind of treatment, having been raised in a city that had absolute faith and love for her—at least as far as she knew. It was a shock to learn that many people within her own kingdom’s region had fostered a hatred for her, yet for as much as it hurt, she knew she could not let it give her pause, though Nemi was sure to comfort her anyway with some kind words.

Over the next set of days, Renji had obtained more spirits, especially during the latter days. Too often the party would find the carcass of an animal or monster, slain but not harvested. It wasn’t like the situation with the manticore; whatever was killing them wasn’t hunting them for food, though it wasn’t clear if this was done by a singular entity like the manticore, or if this was caused by other means. Disturbingly, Renji felt that many of the deceased beasts seemed more empty than others. Like putting one’s hand in water, and pulling back to find that he wasn’t wet. All the same, he said a small prayer in Tiamat’s name for each of them.

“You’ve taken to being Tiamat’s champion quite well. Have you ever thought about being a cleric?” Hestia asked, her tone half teasing.

“Me? A holy man? No way. I don’t see sermons and robes in my future.” Renji chuckled halfheartedly as he stood up from another fallen beast. She was right, though. He wasn’t really a religious man before this, so that he had taken to praying and giving rites at all struck him as odd, though he believes the shock of actually meeting a goddess face to face might very well do that to a man.

“Hah, maybe you’re right. I can’t really see people following a church run by an Outworlder anyway, especially if it’s to a goddess that many people aren’t fond of. No offense to you or your patron, of course.” Lightly punching Renji’s arm, she makes her way back to her hoshirin. Unfortunately, the meat was too spoiled to use, so they were unable to honor the fallen by at least putting their bodies to use, and were forced to leave them where they’d find them. Renji had thought about burying them, but it’d consume too much of their time to do, even with magic. They had more pressing priorities to attend to, after all. The Dark Lord would not wait.

Upon reaching the gates of Valtetion, Illya was welcomed by a sight she had expected to be more common on their journey. A true hero’s welcome roared as Illya’s party trotted their way towards Valtetion Keep. Renji wasn’t great with crowds, and it would seem even Nemi was finding herself flustered. The only one among them that didn’t seem to get shy was Illya herself, who smiled and waved at the crowds as they called her name. Nobody called his name, though he did hear the word “Outworlder” get thrown around more quietly.

Awaiting them atop the hill at Valtetion Keep was Count Draeven Veythar. Wearing a dark sapphire blue robe and gold embroidery, he wore several gold and silver rings, as well as a ruby pendant that shone dimly from the setting sun’s light. He extended all courtesies to the party as the evening approached, and even offered them a place in his mansion. While everyone else seemed enchanted by the regal noble offering them food and shelter, Renji shuddered. He felt violently sick, but he contained his urge to heave. Something was wrong, very wrong, but he couldn’t place what. Screaming, endless screaming, flooded Renji’s ears, begging for help and wailing for release. The sound couldn’t even be described as human as it pierced his ears. Nobody else seemed to hear it, but Renji could, and he could tell it was coming from The Count.

“Your companion looks quite ill. Is he alright?” The Count asked, noticing Renji’s swiftly paling face. He watched as Renji’s hand went to his mouth, like he could retch at any moment.

Illya looked back to Renji in complete confusion. He seemed perfectly fine, and none around could immediately think of a reason for him to be sick. Not wanting to embarrass themselves in front of their host, however, Illya improvised. “Oh, think nothing of it. He must have drunk some bad water or something. We’d be honored to accept your offer of succor.”

At dinner, Renji could hardly eat. He could hardly focus, and all he could do was stare at The Count, trying to determine just where the uncomfortable sound was coming from. It had progressed beyond merely sound, he began to feel it in his bones. The spirits within him had begun to quiver, like they were afraid of something that he could not see. He tried to call for Tiamat in his mind, but she didn’t answer. Something was either binding her tongue or perhaps their connection simply wasn’t strong enough for on-demand conversations just yet. Either way, he could feel her eyes, but not her presence upon him.

The Count hardly exchanged a word with him. He didn’t know if The Count simply found him uninteresting, or if he was trying to be conscious of the man who appeared more sickly by the moment, but he didn’t try to initiate any conversation himself. Every sense was constantly ablaze with the horrible, unnatural feelings surrounding him, feelings that everyone around him seemed oblivious to. They had to surrender their weapons, a common courtesy that all parties expected, but he couldn’t help but feel more vulnerable without his beloved rapier at his side.

Renji had to excuse himself early from dinner. He sat in his room, sweating, wondering just what it was about The Count that caused him to hear all that. He went over The Count’s appearance in his mind over and over, and finally, his mind settled on just one thing.

His amulet.