Crimson Prostitutes Amidst a Room of Debauchery

Crimson Prostitutes Amidst a Room of Debauchery

FRETH PAUSED IN THE DOORWAY.

"Galivar is right, recruit. You shouldn't see this."

Vanessa, hearing Freth's words, stared him down with resolve, her own tangled violet locks raining down the side of her face like restless worms. After a moment, Freth sighed, entering the room with mindful steps. Sergius followed close behind, allowing Vanessa her own personal peek into the room beyond.

It was the scene from a hellish nightmare, or perhaps an Akidrogon festivity.

The grounds of the small shed were strewn with corpses. That was putting it mildly—their twisted limbs played at being trees, and the light of Sergius's lantern seemed to flicker in retreat. Freth leaned down to pick up a piece of coal that had fallen out of a workman's arm. Their bodies were fresh—of course they were, for the slaughter had only occurred that morning.

Vanessa's body was that of unwavering determination, and yet, despite all her posturing, she did not leave the doorway. She had seen death plenty of times—a knife in the streets, the execution of a backwater lord's servant, starving orphans resisting the allure of death in the recess of an alleyway. But none of those had the same intense aura about them—it was as if the culprits had partied in the pools of blood that remained. A marvelous crimson slough had crept across the floorboards and sunken into the wood with a corrupt sense of mysticality, painting in no uncertain terms the image of carnage. The victims weren't simply killed, they were used as a form of entertainment for the wiles of an alien species; limbs swung from rotary hooks with the silhouette of drying meat alongside broken pieces of metal that had lodged themselves into the sternums of man, woman, and child. In the back of the shed, a single corpse laid dormant, its skin flayed from bone-to-bone.

Freth turned to Vanessa, obviously expecting some sort of reaction. She shifted uncomfortably at his gaze, but stood resolutely, knowing a single sign of distress would cause her involvement to end immediately. She refused to buckle at the murderous atmosphere, although her stomach churned in argument. Kalf, their Shaltan priest, wasn't so lucky. He excused himself from the room almost immediately, and they could hear his retching outside moments later.

Sergius merely frowned, the tail ends of his white coat bathed in a sizable pool of death. He was knelt down in front of the body of a young academy student, clasping and unclasping the watch hanging from his waist.

"This will be an issue if it comes out to the public," he says in his usual, lifeless way. The tone of his voice implied that he thought of the scene as simply another one of his sought-after puzzles.

"Seraphim's Light, is that all that comes to mind, Serg?" Galivar attempted a joke, but the sound of his voice came out as little more than a croak. Even as a member of the experienced adventuring group Destiny, the gravity of the situation had left him frazzled. His face was lined with worry atop a grim expression.

"We should give their bodies a proper burial," Freth said at last.

"A burial, friend? Which arm for which body?"

"We could mend them together with magic," Sergius suggests absentmindedly, running his fingers across a small incision in the wall, "Captain, come look at this."

Freth approached Sergius with Galivar at his side, Sergius scrapping away a bit of blood that had begun to congeal at the wall. Beyond the stains was the carving of a small emblem, a circle surrounded by four small arcs in each cardinal direction.

Galivar kneels closer to Sergius, his brow creasing in its confusion, "What does it mean?"

"The symbol is reminiscent of the Paladins of Atheria," Freth explains with a frown, stroking his chin between his index finger and thumb.

"The Paladins of Atheria?" Vanessa asked questioningly, approaching the symbol with carefully timed steps as she moved in for a closer look.

"They're a travelling group of Justicars from Aivittelum, although their sigil isn't quite the same," Galivar explains, his brow managing to crease even tighter.

"Look, the markings here and here are almost identical, but each arrow has been inverted and is now pointing towards the artifice." Freth runs his fingers across each edge, squeezing in-between Sergius and Galivar's forms.

Vanessa turned back toward the carnage behind her and winced.

Just what organization could accomplish something like this?

Freth turned to Vanessa, noticing the question in her eyes as he stood up. Turning to Sergius, he gave only a single nod.

"It seems my conclusion is correct then, if even the captain has confirmed it," Sergius remarks, pulling up his white gloves to their absolute maximum length.

"Conclusion?" A confused Galivar scratched at his head.

"The answer is, of course, Dreamwalkers."

With Freth's voice echoing in the dim shed, it was soon accompanied by Galivar's laughter.

"Ah ha, how hilarious friend! Your jest almost had me going there!"

The room remained silent.

"—Gods, you're serious, aren't you?"

"Dreamwalkers? Like the children's tale?" Vanessa asked.

Dreamwalkers. Plague-ridden wildebeests who walked on two legs and were thrice the size of a normal human. Their horns acted as makeshift stakes, and their hands were strong enough to crush stones with an effortless squeeze. It was said one had the strength equivalent to an entire battalion of Imperium soldiers, and just one was enough to be classified as a "nation-level threat".

The stories originate back before the Splintering, during the Age of Gods. In the legends, Dreamwalkers acted as the Shadowed One's personal envoy, as well as the units for his armies. A legion of Dreamwalkers was considered a group of six or more. They were said to be directly connected to the cursed strand, and derived their powers directly from the Shadowed One's reach.

"No, unfortunately, they aren't mere children's tale any longer it seems."

"How can you be so sure?" Galivar steps up to Freth, his chin clenched in dissatisfaction.

"—I saw them firsthand, during the visit from the Illusionary."

"The Illusionary?"

Galivar's eyes widened, but Sergius merely nodded along to his explanation as if it were the easiest puzzle in the world.

"That would be why you didn't tell us—you wanted to confirm it for yourself. You wanted to see the Shadowcrest."

"Shadowcrest?"

It was Vanessa's turn to act confused—after all, she was hearing so many terms today for the first time. Paladins of Atheria? The Illusionary? A Shadowcrest? She turned to each one of her companions—although she was only an accompanying member for the near future. And to what she could tell from the way Freth treated her, a huge nuisance.

Freth leans down and pulls out the body of a young woman from underneath a small pile of corpses. The fact that Vanessa could summarize the action that matter-of-factly felt sickening to her.

"This one will be easier to show, since the skin has already been pulled back."

Lifting her arm, he slides back her skin almost like a sleeve. Galivar gags, and Vanessa finds herself battling with the urge to join Kalf outside in the sanctuary.

"These blackened crest markings are a sign of the Shadowed One's influence. They are grafted to the skin as a part of the Dreamwalker curse—for their murders to always be connected back to the Shadowed One, so that their hunger can never know salvation. This is why they kill."

Behind Freth's body, Kalf stepped back into the room, a queasy expression still evident on his face. Vanessa was glad for the new visual stimulation, eager to get her eyes off the room which smelled of death and decay. To explain the significance of Kalf's presence, Vanessa would first have to describe her companions. Freth was, as Sergius referred to him earlier, the captain of the Holy Knight Order, although he was currently travelling incognito as an adventurer named Kain Wilde. Sergius was an experienced magicaster part of the same Order, although his regiment accepted orders directly from the queen of their country, Gadencia.

Next, there was Galivar. Vanessa still didn't know much about him, other than that he was training to become a Ward, a name given to knights who contracted their service to one of the Adamantians who resided in the City of the Gods. An Adamantian would often have several Wards, and it was tradition for female Adamantians to contract male Wards, and for male Adamantians to contract female Wards.

There were other members in the adventuring group Destiny, but they had stayed behind. Keikune, Barnur, Likes—each one of them was specifically requested to stay back. The area was known to be dangerous, residing directly in the heart of Shaltia's poverty district. To make matters worse, the mission was to capture a serial killer known as the Red Rag, known for his murders which involved skinning his victims with a handkerchief-sized sandpaper rag.

And yet, Kalf had tagged along without so much as a second glance from Freth. It would also be well to mention that Vanessa's presence on this expedition was entirely due to Kalf's arguing on her behalf. In the words of Freth, despite Likes occupation as a merchant, he would sooner have him defending his backside than Vanessa.

Freth's constant dismissal of Vanessa's abilities left a sour taste in her mouth, but that was besides the point.

The subtle action of allowing Kalf to enter the party, despite his humble profession as a Shaltan priest and scrawny stature, caught Vanessa's eye like none other. She couldn't come to terms with the fact that this twig of a man, who lost his appetite at the sign of a risque male-on-female gathering, could be on par with the likes of Sergius and Galivar.

Why would this venture be difficult for an accomplished spellblade like Keikune, but fine for an easily-nauseous priest? Vanessa was far from a naive orphan. Her time on the streets had taught her a valuable lesson: never judge a book by its cover.

I'll be keeping an eye on you, clergyman. 

With that thought in tow, Vanessa walked over to Kalf to see what his opinion was on the matter. But before she could make it far, she barely caught herself against the bridge of an extended iron pipe as her leg became entangled in the outstretched arm of a decaying body.

Cursing to herself, she looked down to the corpse below in order to give it a taste of her mind—internally, of course—when she suddenly gasped.

"What is it?" Freth asked, concern lining his voice. A faint noise could be heard toward the back of the shed as Galivar gripped the hilt of his sword.

"—I recognize him."

Vanessa bent down to inspect the body with Freth, which unfortunately only served to reinforce her conclusion. The boy was unmistakably Toni, a machinist Vanessa had met during the group's brief flirt with the capital of Imperium. As the memories of their interactions flashed through her mind, she informed the group of her discovery with a jagged voice.

There was a mutual understanding which washed over the stiff bodies of the experienced adventurers.

They had gotten along pretty well.

Loss was a given in this line of work, but for the young Vanessa who had not even become a full-fledged adventurer yet, it must've been a shock. Everyone came to this conclusion—well, everyone but Freth.

"It's pretty abnormal for someone from Imperium's capital to end up this far away from Sparia, isn't it?" Vanessa asked innocently.

Galivar and Kalf blinked at her sudden question. Sergius, meanwhile, simply made a mental note at her response. Freth was the only one that understood just how much she had gone through to get to this point—how many friends she must have seen die before her during her life growing up in this very poverty district. It would be surprising if she hadn't become desynthesized to witnessing the death of old friends.

It was one of the reasons Freth had prevented her for applying for an adventurer license.

"I-Indeed," Galivar stammers out, "it is rather strange."

"The puzzles grows more complex," Sergius muses.

"If this is a puzzle, then we merely need to find the other pieces," Freth sighs, getting to his feet.

"I agree—we won't be able to come up with a solution with the evidence we currently have." Galivar straightens his waistcoat and rolls back his sleeves.

Vanessa continued to look at Toni's lifeless eyes, mentally offering a prayer her squadmate had taught her so many years ago.

Peace be with your body, and forever with your soul.

"Will you be alright, recruit?" Freth asked. Although his voice came out rather stoic, there was an undercurrent of concern in his expression.

Vanessa nodded, "I can't say I knew him too well, but...he was nice to me."

The room went silent for a while after that.

"—...As you all know, I am a priest. Despite the quivering in my gut, I can at the very least do my job."

Kalf holds up his hands, causing his palms to emit a soft, comforting green light. As he muttered underneath his breath, tendrils of light began to seep out from his fingers, seeking out the corpse in front of him with an almost relaxed urgency.

"Arruw dhara funaiar du fasuna ula ulsa nusa. Rallusn aildu el efrurida ilaiul dhaais llailer nairlaidirr ull railla."

[Allow these bodies to become one once more. Reform into an absolute union their final dignity of life.]

Toni's body began to glimmer slightly, reforming and reknitting itself in real time as the shards of fallen skin and remaining puddles of blood reentered their perfect union. Albeit slowly, Toni's body began to resemble a more recognizable form.

"I will give everyone here a proper burial. I should be fine on my own, so if you have other business to attend to, feel free."

Freth and Galivar nodded, beginning to take their leave. Sergius grunted, instead kneeling back down and running his gloved fingertips across the blood-soaked wood.

Vanessa hastily followed the former out of the shed, her stomach beginning to churn. Despite her calm expression, she couldn't bear to be in the room a second longer.