A History Through Blood

The history of the dense marsh lands extends far beyond the fragile records of humanity. Before the existence of house Hurst, before the Norse raiders, before the roman settlers, before the Britons or even before the earliest forms of man, the wild spirits controlled the vast quagmires. When man first settled on the sodden fields, the spirits yet remained undisturbed by the new occupants. Ever watching and acting beyond the sight of normal humans, doing whatever their will desires.

Over the centuries, those with the ability to see beyond the mortal realm would encounter such magical creatures, worshipping them or creating idols of their likenesses. The cruel tides of time did not spare the worshippers of wild gods, losing all but the largest alters to the sinking into the sludge. On countless occasions the laborious work of humble farmers or the rough footsteps of a violent thugs would accidentally unearth such ancient relics. Upon their discovery by the unfortunate soul, the relics generally were either: left alone in fear, coveted for their ties to the supernatural or are destroyed for the a fore mentioned reasons.

The current occupants of the land had gone to great lengths to gather and promptly destroy such remnants of ancient beings when clearing the area for their current homes. In-spite of the taboo nature of any faith which did not align with the presiding Judeo-Christian beliefs, a scarce few still versed in the ancient ways had recreated various supernatural fetishes and praised the forbidden gods. Regardless of whether or not the current populace were cognisant of their presence, the original inhabitants still existed. Ever watching from beyond the view of mortals.

-

The halls of Hurst Manor were silent, save for the occasional shuffle of a patrolling guard's footsteps or the quiet squeak of the rodents which scampered the wooden rafters and sandstone floors. The grey stone manor had with-stood the wear of various centuries, due in part to the constant maintenance of the current owners. The few specs of moss and other such plant-life were regularly repelled by the vigilant occupants, fighting to retain the sanctuary they had build on their raised damp out-crop. In the grand hall hung a portrait of the family's founding member, Lord Henry Hurst. Despite the peculiar rumours of his heretical tendencies, he was still generally held in high regard. Albeit with the scarce rumours which never seemed to die down as the centuries passed.

With-in the master bedroom the ruling lord lay in bed with his wife, idling reading to distract them from their circumstances. The sconces and smouldering fire place provided enough light during their limited down time to permit such activities. Their recreation time recently had become increasing strained as of late. While their son was of sound mind and body, they could not say the same about their daughter who seemed to have lost the ability to sense much of the world around her. In spite of her attempts to distract from the grim reality of her child's condition, Lady Mirabel Hurst could not remove the unnerving sensation she felt when she went near her youngest. On more than one occasion her husband, Lord Orvyn Hurst had to embrace his wife to calm down her worries. The slightest reminder of her daughter's condition would often send her into hysterics, such as a particular letter from an estranged relative.

“Shhhh, worrying won't do you any good.” comforted Orvyn, his soothing tone attempting to reassure her whilst supportively massaging her hand. “We've heard back from Wolf at the Carpenter's guild, their specialist should be arriving in our territory soon.” His attempts to calm her anxiety only caused greater concern. “How can you place your hopes on this unknown specialist, a woman too at that! If she were so great, wouldn't she be working for the royal court? Why are we letting a charlatan into our home?!” The lord roughly pulled his wife into his arms, embracing her while stroking her ever-greying hairs. “I know you are worried. Not only for Godiva, but for Dustin as well. This doctor has not only the recommendation of the guild master, but also is accompanied by a mid-ranking priest. They will surely discover what is wrong with our daughter.”

The sobbing continued for several minutes, echoing through the corridors. The small frame that sat curled with-in a dusty nook behind a stoically displayed suit of armour. Godiva, unable to say anything as to her condition, could only silently listen to those around her and internally break down in tears. The depressing words of her mother cut into her heart like a knife, increasing her own feelings of helplessness and despair. Were she able to, Godiva would've ran to her mothers arms to embrace her. Alas, her condition barely afforded her the ability to stumble around the castle's many corridors.

“At least,” sobbed Lady Hurst “we can get that priest to look at our castle. I still cannot shake the feeling that we are constantly being watched.” Orvyn nervously stroked his own beard, he too feel the constant presence of someone watching him. There had been murmurs from the various house keepers of an unknown presence watching them from the castle grounds, which only furthered his own paranoia. Even the local priest, as useless as his efforts had been, was sufficiently scared off by the unknown voyeur and had practically fled at the first moment he could. “I will ensure that he will investigate our lands thoroughly, now go to bed. You need to stay healthy, not for your own sake but for your children's as well.”

-

The guards waved the merchant's wagon through the town's rough walls. The three occupants slowly progressed through the town's partially crowded streets, quickly stepping aside once they heard the sound of hoof on stone. “The horses are at their limit. Leo, can you please take them to the guild. Would you mind taking Rose for a wander around the town, see what you can find.” remarked the plague-doctor. “William, help me with my supplies as we go to the mansion.” The town's watch, quickly stepped in to offer aid, their instructions from Lord Orvyn mentioned the group and the purpose of their visit. While not as pronounced as at the castle, the footmen too felt the presence of some unknown observer when patrolling around the castle.

The watchmen escorted the pair to the grand hall of Castle Orvyn, past the various peddlers, common-folk and beggars that occupied the town-square. Muffled whispering filtered through the streets as the pair made their way to the central castle. The rumours varied from the more pessimistic sympathisers forecasting yet another failed attempt to cure the lady's condition to the more superstitious claims of ancestral spirits possessing the child. A sharp glare from the escorting guard silenced most of the spectators who quickly were reminded of prior engagements.

Waiting at the castle's grand doorway, the Lord and Lady stood respectfully as to properly greet their guests. Both held onto their air of authority, regardless of the feeling of desperation which surrounded them. Their slightly dishevelled appearance was likely the result of their hasty efforts to greet their guests. “Lord and Lady Hurst, I present Father William of the Catholic Church and Doctor Worm of the Carpenter's Guild.” Bellowed the more senior of the guards, with the two guests bowing in turn.

“I welcome you to our mansion, er, Miss Worm. I hope that you will leave it in a better condition than it currently is.” Whatever reaction their matriarch expected to receive from her condescending attempt at wit, never manifested anything tangible as the doctor remained unphased behind her mask. Her religious companion, unaccustomed to noble protocols, ignored the remark in favour of attending to the patient. “Shall we see to your daughter? While I am honoured by your welcome, there are more pressing matters which take priority over protocol.” A simple nod from Lord Orvyn, dismissed the guards as the pair were guided into the estate.

-

As much as he wished he could subdue his wife's tendencies, Orvyn resigned himself to look on and give a sympathetic shrug to the visiting doctor. As they wandered the halls towards the girl's bedroom, the plague doctor seemed intent on getting as much information about her patient as possible, taking notes in a small book. While each question she asked was simple and harmless, the seemingly trivial nature of them only served to exasperate his wife's temperament.

“How old is your Daughter?” “Twelve”

“When did this first manifest?” “Three years ago, Why does that matter?

“Have any of your ancestors had similar issues?” “What does that have to do with my poor Godiva's condition? What exactly are you implying? What have you heard from the townsfo!”

Reaching his limit, Lord Orvyn placed one firm hand on her shoulder, cutting short her agitated diatribe. “You are looking tired after standing in the frosty morning air, go sit by the fire and warm yourself. I will escort the doctor.” Gently guiding his wife into the care of a servant, “Take her to the main lounge. Get her something warm to eat, the cold seems to have made my wife more uncomfortable than usual.” With a bow, the maid took his subdued wife to the main hearth out of the way of their guests. “My apologises, our daughter's condition has not been easy on her. As for our lineage, the only recent illnesses with our line are some deaths to the plague and some elders with an addiction to mead. The others have mostly died due to accidents, age or battle.”

The questions seemed to switch course to general occurrences with-in the territory, a subject that he was more familiar with. Her questions were predominantly focused on general diet and disease in the area, seemingly eliminating various potential causes from her mind. Either fortunately or unfortunately only Godiva was subject to this strange condition, and the only signs of madness were confined to churches on the outskirts of their lands. “There is one more thing...” the lord of the mires began, just as they reached his child's room. “For months now we have felt a presence, watching over us. It is strongest around our manor. Father William, once you have seen our daughter can you do whatever you can to drive the evil from our home?” William turned, looking directly into his eyes “Of course, once Victoria has examined Godiva I will investigate your manor.”

Once they arrived at her bedroom, Orvyn announced their presence with a series of sharp knocks on the wooden door. A childish voice responded “Enter!” His other child had apparently wandered into his sibling's room uninvited, sitting with an open book on his lap. “I am sorry, this is my youngest: Dustin Hurst. He often sneaks in with a book to read to her, he believes that somewhere inside her mind she is there.” Placing the book to one side, he slid off of the upholstered chair, brazenly approaching the doctor. “Are you really able to cure 'Diva? Mother said that you are a fraud here to steal our money.” Internally Orvyn sighed, his wife's needless fretting had gotten to his son too.

Thankfully, the doctor appeared to be understanding and bent down to his son. “I would not be so sure. Can you keep a secret?” She said, finger pressed over where her mouth would be if not for her white mask. Carefully she pushed back her sleeve and removed one of her gloves to reveal an intricately drawn tattoo, thinner than the finest hair. With a small grimace as she focused on the fine lines from behind her mask. The meticulously drawn artistry began to glow with a warm, divine light that transfixed the two Hurst men. The pair could not look away from the angelic glow, unable to speak as it soon faded away, just as quickly as it manifested.

“While I have no divine powers, that is proof I have received the approval from an archangel.” He accompanying priest motioned for Orvyn to escort Dustin to his mother, “Why don't you comfort your mother while we examine your sister? Oh, and keep that light a secret. It's hard to tend to the sick while being pestered by nobility to bless various items for their own worldly goals.” The young lord hurried out of the room, mimicking the masked doctor's silencing finger, calling for his father to hurry. As he closed the door on his saviors, he made a silent prayer of thanks to the lord for answering his cry for help.