The Essence of Erebus [Closed]

[Ire]

It was raining. The downpour mixed with the dirt of the road, creating a muddy concoction that the horses struggled to trudge through. Their hooves dug up the mud continuously, and the howling winds only made the chill of the rain that much worse.


The road was bordered by forest on either side, and the branches of the trees whipped to and fro under the power of the gusts. The leaves rustled. Combined with the overwhelming sound of the descending rain, the three cleansers could barely hear themselves think let alone have any conversation. Not that anyone would ever choose to talk in such weather―they were too involved with keeping a tight grip on the reins of their steeds and watching their hot breath release itself from their lungs into the cold air.


Kaemon, the Sentinel of the cleanser group and therefore the highest in command, led the trio. His horse’s brown coat shined in the moisture of the atmosphere, and his Sentinel armor rattled with every movement of the stallion beneath him. His greatsword was strapped to his broad, armored back, and his helmet was hooked to the left side of his horse, along with various traveling supplies. Kaemon’s blue hood was pulled over his countenance to protect his eyes from the falling droplets, allowing his steel-gray orbs to scan along the path.


Thick clouds hung overhead, darkening the skies and letting the lights of the city ahead of them shine that much more prominently. The grand gatehouse of the city of Garser loomed three hundred yards ahead, and the towering ramparts on either side of the brilliant structure were adorned with flame-aglow lanterns.


The three cleansers had just finished slaying another sorcerer who had taken up residence in a hovel about six miles out from Garser. Local villagers had complained to the guards, and the guards relayed the message to the Cleanser Order, and the rest was history.


The sorcerer had been living in a state of denial of his unlucky circumstances of being born with the Essence of Erebus flowing through his veins. He thought himself a normal citizen, even though he could force almost anything to freeze with a touch of a hand. He could not control the gift unrightfully given to him by the demise of Erebus, and as the Book of Twins stated, he was to be slain. As such, Kaemon had no remorse when he struck him down with his mighty blade.


Upon reaching the gatehouse of Garser, the troupe of six guards approached the cleanser trio. The captain of the company led them, his full-plate armor slickened by the rain. The droplets poured down upon them, the water echoing off their metal helmets and pauldrons. A hand on the hilt of the sheathed blade at his left side, the captain examined the trio.


Kaemon narrowed his eyes at the captain and pulled his reins to the right, so his left side was facing the guardsmen. “We have finished slaying a sorcerer on the outskirts of Garser. We planned to head for the Holy City after the ordeal, but the weather has set us back. We must enter the city to stay at a tavern for the evening,” Kaemon explained, gripping the reins of his steed a bit tighter, making the metal of his gauntlets crunch.


“‘at’s Sentinel armor, sir. He’s one o’ dem master swordsmen o’ somethin’,” one of the lower-ranking guardsmen said to his captain. The statement drew a belated glance over the captain’s right shoulder to eye his guardsman, looking at him for a long while before his eyes returned to Kaemon.


“Let ‘em through!” The captain ordered, turning around and waving his arms at the archers positioned on the parapet-defended summit of the gatehouse. With that, the captain beckoned his men to move out of the way, and Kaemon snapped his reins back to the left, straightening his horse toward the gate.


For standing still for so long in the mud, when the horses’ hooves lifted, a suction sound echoed. The horses neighed and shook as the iron-barred gate lifted, causing a great deal of noise to mix with the falling rain and the rustling leaves. When the gate was finally lifted, the cleansers passed through, the horses having to take a step upward onto the cobblestone of the main street.


Mud filled the spaces between the stones of the road, and the muddy hooves of the steeds only made the paths worse. Even at this time of night, with such weather, traffic still made the streets clustered. Most of the those who walked the streets, however, were on foot, making the cleansers atop their mighty steeds tower over them.


Lanterns hung from nearly every shop, house, and guard post, allowing some light to shine on the dark streets. After one hundred yards or so down the main road of Garser―which felt more like three hundred with the throngs of people clogging the street―the cleansers came upon the Crumbled Stone Tavern.


The structure was three-stories tall, and had a stable built on its left side. Kaemon led his two other cleansers to the stables and proceeded to dismount, hooking the reins of the horses to the wooden posts designated in the shadowy rear of the stables.


Now on foot, Kaemon entered the residence with his cleansers tailing him. The door creaked as he opened it, and as he did so, light poured out onto the opaque street. Laughter and the slamming of mugs on tables quickly replaced the sound of the rain. Entering the establishment fully, Kaemon’s cloak dripped water onto the wooden floorboards as he approached the bar.


A portly man donning a thick black beard and a long black mane that hung between his shoulder blades manned the bar. He cleaned the mugs, tankards, and glasses with a thick cloth as his brown eyes stared at Kaemon and his comrades. “Whatcha need dere sir?” The bartender asked, continuing his scrubbing.


“We need a private room with three beds. I must put emphasis on the ‘private’ as well. If anyone disturbs us, they will leave this place with broken bones or not at all,” Kaemon demanded, his eyebrows closing in on his abridged nose.


“Alright there laddie, no need to throw threats onta shadow men,” the bartender retorted, placing the glass on the bar and throwing the cloth over his left shoulder. “The room’s free as always for you cleanser types, but the ale ain’t! If ye want somethin’ to drink, ye need to pay like e’eryone else!”


“We don’t need your ale, citizen. All we need is the food you serve, and that’s free as well,” Kaemon exclaimed with a snarl, eyeing the bartender as he made his way toward the back of the tavern, to a round table placed against the far wall.


Kaemon and his two cleansers sat at the table quickly, not lounging in their seats like the common riff-raff that attended such establishments at this time of night. Many of the patrons of the Crumbled Stone eyed the cleansers from their very sides of their vision, wanting to observe them but never desiring to make eye contact.


Awaiting their meal, Kaemon’s eyes wandered throughout the inn, examining and analyzing every single individual present. He was a Sentinel for a reason, and that meant he was always on alert, no matter if he was safe within the walls of Garser or out in the darkness of the forests.

 

[Lucyfer]

The Glendale siblings wanted out of the rain and the cold more than anything. They had no plans to argue Kaemon’s decision not to push through it, but to instead head towards the nearest town and take refuge in an inn. Both of them allowed him to do all the talking—he was the leader of their trio, after all.


It did not mean that Mika Glendale, the healer, consented to his rude treatment of all he encountered. She was always tight-lipped around Kaemon for that reason, though. The blonde haired woman knew that one word would only further anger him, or at least, that was what she suspected. Though she wanted to imagine her ‘brother’, Marius, might rise to the occasion, she doubted it.


Marius had a queer admiration for Kaemon. Though he found him uncouth and rude, as well, he saw the man’s work ethic. As he admired his own father, so he admired Kaemon. As such, he showed no irritation at all in the way the guards were treated. It was foolish that they even approached—there was no reason to keep anyone out, and Marius knew of no curfews. The streets were, in fact, packed when they got into the town.


Fortunately, they were able to get to an inn and stable their horses for the night. They followed Marius in to the crowd of people making-merry. He let out a relieved sigh, and smirked just a little as they were guaranteed free food and room. ‘Ale would be nice, though.’ He’d have to go about that when not around Kaemon, clearly. The man must have something against booze.


Marius did decide to ask that, once they were put away to a table to wait for a meal. “Got a problem with ale, Kaemon?” Mika took a seat a bit after them, getting herself a cup of cold water before settling into a chair.


Kaemon’s eyes weren’t on them, of course. He was examining the room. “We dealt with the sorcerer already,” Marius reminded. Typically, those with the taint of Erebus were alone now. The families had either fled the kingdom, or been exterminated. Working in groups was too dangerous for those with any sense—not that all of them had sense, but the sorcerer they exterminated seemed to still have his mind together.


It was unlikely they’d find another, considering the denials.


Of course, Marius would be wrong. Sitting besides the fire was a sorceress from a family of renown, the Pyrrhus line. In the years since their discovery of the fire in their veins, they’d developed the noticeable trait of orange eyes. She had arrived alone, but she was not alone then.


Ariel Pyrrhus took note when the hunters entered, but ignored them as so many of the others did. She had to repeat her mantra. ‘I will not start a fight. I will not start a fight.’ Over and over, as she sipped at her glass of honey-mead and exchanged stories with locals.


At the sight of the cleansers, one of the locals filled her in, “They probably just got back from dealin’ with the sorcerer.” He told Ariel, “You don’t have them in Greeze, do you?” That was the neighboring kingdom.


Ariel shook her head, “Fortunately, not.” At the way his face screwed up, she chuckled, “Sorry, we don’t hold your theological views.” Well, the majority didn’t. A vocal minority did. Their church had splintered when the Cleansers came about, since they did not see magic as inherently corrupt. They considered that revelation to be false, and argued from the fact that magic had been around before the Erebus revelation, as it was termed.


The Pyrrhus were proof of that. They had lived comfortably here for years before the Cleansers started their work. “What was wrong with the sorcerer here?” She asked to humor them.


“He kept freezing things. He destroyed all our crops last fall!”


‘Are you sure it wasn’t an early winter?’


“I see,” Ariel knew better than to try and talk logically with these people. Faith blinded them. How could it not? They’d lived under these rules for centuries. “Well then I am glad such a malevolent figure was disposed,” she didn’t sound like it.


He gave a nod, but asked, “How is it you all deny the church’s teachings out there? Don’t the tainted give you problems?”


‘No more than any other human.’ Ariel shook her head, “Nope.” Well, what else would she say?


The meals were brought to the table with the Cleansers, their scent reminding Ariel she also needed to eat something. She had planned to just rest here and get on to the next town, but the storm changed those plans. “Excuse me!” She lifted a hand to gain the portly man’s attention, “Could I get a bit of stew and a room? It looks like I am staying after all,” unfortunately.

 

[Ire]

“Ale doesn’t bother me, its effect does. Ale makes you commit to poor choices and lowers your guard. I have a duty to the people of Diaconem, and to relieve myself of that duty for a few glasses of ale isn’t something I’d like to be a part of,” Kaemon explained, shooting a sideward glance at Marius. “And for the same reason, I will always be aware of my surroundings, sorcerer or no. You would be wise to do the same―you and your sister.”


Kaemon’s ears focused on a particular conversation that peaked through the crowd. Sorcerers were common talk throughout most cities, but a certain statement caught his attention: “Sorry, we don’t hold your theological views.” What kind of people in Garser did not hold the views of the Patriarch and the Almighty Aeon? Not any he knew.


As a wench brought the three cleansers their food, the Sentinel’s eyes searched the tavern for the origin of the voice. They locked on a woman branded with a black ponytail and a slim figure. She was conversing with the barkeep, and while Kaemon couldn’t pick up every word, it appeared that she was staying for the entirety of the evening. His eyes examined her thoroughly―her dress, odd for a woman of Garser, and… a certain gleam that came from her irises, defended heavily by her long eyelashes.


The cleanser had been staring so intently that the smell of his meal was the only thing that can draw him away. Looking down, a pewter plate holding buttered biscuits and mutton sat before him. Unstrapping the buckles around his forearms, Kaemon removed his gauntlets and set them on the wooden surface of the table. He grabbed a biscuit and took a bite, a few crumbs falling down upon his Sentinel armor.


As he chewed, his eyes returned to the woman. Her appearance and the words she had spoken before marked her as uncommon to the throng that usually attended such an establishment. She was as out of place as he and his two cleansers were.


And so he stared.

 

[Lucyfer]

‘Same thing.’ Marius thought when Kaemon explained why it was he didn’t care much for ale. He could have made a comment that Kaemon just didn’t know how to hold his liquor, but thought better of it, and of getting a glass for himself. He could wait until he was back in the capital to drink in peace. “Do you see a glass of ale, Kaemon?” Rhetorical question to the statement. “Besides, Mika doesn’t like it at all.”


Mika didn’t, and had little interest in alcohol in general. Unlike the others, she could actually feel it as a poison. Her body immediately went to work to heal her as soon as she began to drink. As such, she never got drunk, but as with any poison, she had no desire to willingly ingest it. Water was just fine.


When the food was brought, the Glendale siblings were quick to separate their portions from the tray so that Kaemon would have his. Marius held a smirk on his face as he quietly observed Kaemon watching a woman in the bar. He leaned towards Mika when Kaemon’s gaze returned to the woman, “Do you think he knows how to approach a woman?”


Mika shot him such a dirty look for that. “It isn’t that,” she whispered. She didn’t pay much attention to the conversation, but even she could see the glow of the woman’s eyes and the strange attire. She was not local to Garser, that much was evident. Mika knew the fashion of Greeze, a place quite a bit more lenient towards the tainted.


Ariel could feel the eyes on her. ‘You haven’t done anything to be killed for.’ Unless Garser now killed those who held different beliefs. If so, perhaps it was time to invade Garser and change it for the better.


‘It might not be official rules.’ Ariel reminded herself as her lamb stew was set before, ‘but you can bet people here do get killed for differing beliefs.’ Ariel didn’t look in the direction of the stare directly. She could feel where it was coming from. The Cleanser table, of course. It’d be in poor tastes to start a fight with them.


But that stare was really annoying.


The man she’d been speaking with thought to resume conversation, now that she had food, “How don’t you have problems with’em?”


Ariel resisted the urge to roll her eyes, “They’re taught, as they were in the days before your teachings, how to use their powers. Your church does that here, no?” Some Cleansers had magic, or so she’d heard. She’d always found that amusing. “We do it there, but they’re not forced into servitude. They can go about their daily lives undisturbed, and not disturbing anyone else.”


“But—but only the church can properly teach them.”


Ariel smirked, “Apparently not.” Wouldn’t it be nice to show him the control one such as herself had? Unbound by the church, and with a family history to boot, her family was unparalleled as pyromancers and always had been—always would be, at this rate. “Go to Greeze someday. See for yourself,” she advised.

 

[Ire]

Ears perked and listening to every syllable that streamed forth from the vocal chords of the woman his eyes were fixated upon, Kaemon’s suspicions grew and grew until they seemed to explode forth from his very being. “We do it there, but they’re not forced into servitude. They can go about their daily lives undisturbed, and not disturbing anyone else.” The dialogue caught Kaemon off-guard, and he immediately dropped the biscuit he held in his hand, the crumbs cascading down upon the table and the half-eaten biscuit shaking the pewter plate it fell upon.


This woman certainly was a sorcerer, or at the least, a sorcerer associate who would know where some lingered. No one had such an uncommon view of Aeon’s Patriarchy without having some connection to an individual affected by the Essence of Erebus.


His steel-gray eyes held a stern stare, the scar seeming to shine in the dim lighting as he rose from his seat, not even taking a slim second to inform Marius nor Mika of his intentions. His intricate armor shimmered in the candlelight and clanked as he began to move, drawing some eyes from around the tavern as he approached the woman.


Kaemon was a large man compared to the peasants of the Crumbled Stone Tavern, and since they were positioned in their low-seated chairs, the cleanser towered over them with an aura of intimidation and superior knowledge that made these impoverished men quiver in their boots. He came within three feet of the black-haired woman, his militaristic eyes narrowing as a gauntleted finger from his left hand poked her left shoulder. He stood behind her, and his armored right hand was already gripping the hilt of his sheathed greatsword that was strapped to his back. The Sentinel’s training was superb, and he rarely faltered when sizing up a potential sorcerer.


“Miss, I’ll need you to accompany me outside,” he demanded, his voice gravelly. While he had talked down the barkeep in a public vicinity, he preferred not to battle a possible sorcerer in such a clustered area. It was dangerous for both him and everyone else in immediate range.

 

[Lucyfer]

Mika and Marius both noticed him move, “Hey, what—” but Mika touched Marius’s arm to keep him sitting, and to silence them. Kaemon’s destination was obvious to her, and she wasn’t yet sure if he’d need the two of them. She didn’t rise, but she kept her attention alert.


Ariel also heard him rise, and saw him, but didn’t turn her head until he actually poked her. It crossed her mind to burn his finger off, but she banked that urge. Causing trouble would get her no where.


Still, she didn’t turn to look at him until then, and then she turned completely around on the stool. One leg was crossed over the other, and she lifted her orange eyes to his face. She’d been told by her family that they eyes were the evidence—even if it was poor evidence—of their power. The orange eyes glowed like the fire that burned inside the woman. Even so, it didn’t stop her from meeting the man’s eyes, and noting that scar. This was a Cleanser who had been tried and tested, unlike his companions.


The man she’d been speaking to banked his fascination with Greeze and turned away, pretending to no longer know the woman.


Ariel arched an eyebrow, “Why?” Even she imagined she was safer in a crowd. In truth, she knew that she wasn’t. If a Cleanser wanted her dead, or wanted to cause trouble, they’d not care what happened to innocents. At least an answer would give her an idea of whether or not she’d be burning through three Cleansers that day or not. “If you want to chat, you can take a seat. I have a meal I’d like to finish.”


The man at her side gave her a look of concern and worry. Refusing a Cleanser was stupid, and further indication of guilt.