REVILED

Halligan looked down upon the training ground from his window. The Knights of the Withered Thorn were down their training. The sweat pouring off their bodies was the symbol of their hard work. It amazed him how quickly their motivation had changed. Before, they reminded him of children playing soldiers, but that had changed overnight.

They were broken into groups. Some were engaging in physical training to build up their stamina while others were practicing the sword. Of the twenty-four knights, one appeared to have dropped out, six were pressed the hardest.

Lord Phineas and Sir Kogna stood by, ready to correct their forms with a sharp crack from the wooden swords in their hands. Despite the harshness of their training, they were quickly progressing. The sight set a fire ablaze in his gut, and Halligan slipped the black gauntlet onto his left arm, but he frowned when an itching sensation seared his bones. Ever since the expedition into the sewers, his gauntlet hadn’t felt the same.

With a growl, Halligan stormed out of his room. His wounds were nearly healed which meant that he needed to prepare. Reviled Legion was still out there, plotting. A desire to destroy the monster sped his steps, which led him to crash into a cart.

“I’m so sorry.” Halligan groaned as he grabbed his stomach. “I didn’t see…” His voice caught in his throat as he stared at the woman.

Waves of golden-red hair spilled across the woman’s body, and it draped over the exposed skin of her shoulders. Her soft, supple figure pressed against the silk cloth of her dress, and the low cut showed off a generous amount of her breasts. Her eyes were the brightest of blues that reminded him of a clear morning sky. Her skin was paler than when he had last seen her, but she was still the most beautiful woman he had seen.

“Myra?”

Myraelle gasped as she stared up at him. “Hal, is that you?” Halligan helped her to her feet. His eyes lingered on her shapely figure. She was no longer the thin girl he had grown up with.

“What are you doing here?” Halligan couldn’t keep the smile from his lips, but it faded when he saw the slave crest branded onto her skin.

“I’m here to attend Lord Olivar.” Myraelle smiled shyly. “He purchased me as soon as he saw me.”

Halligan clenched his fists. “That bastard.” He snarled through gritted teeth.

“Don’t say such a thing!” Myra snapped. “He’s taken great care of me. Ever since he bought me, I’ve never wanted for anything.”

“But you’re his slave!”

“Better a well-fed slave than a starving freeman.” Myra replied with the same fire. “Don’t you remember what it was like?” Halligan nodded with a defeated sigh. “But you’re doing well for yourself.” Myra smiled while twirling her hair. Her eyes fluttered rapidly. “When did you become a knight?”

“I wouldn’t call myself a knight.” Halligan chuckled nervously. “I became Solomon’s apprentice during my time in the war. We came upon a dire situation here when we visited, and I stayed behind to see that our work is finished.”

“Solomon, as in the Hero Solomon.” Her eyes sparkled with excitement. “Congratulations, I’m proud of you.”

Myra’s smile sent his stomach into a flurry of excitement. “Thank you.”

“Myra, what’s taking breakfast so long?” They both turned to the large man standing at the end of the hall. His robes barely fit his round body, and it showed off more than any sane person would want to see.

“I apologize, master.” Myra pushed the cart over to him. “I ended up meeting with an unexpected friend.”

“Is that so.” Olivar leered at Halligan with contempt. “I guess I can overlook this. After all, it’s not every day you get to meet someone from Triemiere.”

“Thank you master.” Myra smiled and waved at Halligan.

Olivar gave Halligan a lopsided smirk and squeezed Myra’s ass as they headed down the hall. Halligan snarled at the sight, his rage driving him to punch the noble, but Myra’s laugh stole away his anger. Pain and sorrow were all that remained.

Halligan watched them walk away, and he looked at his left hand. “Not again.” He growled, storming off down the hall. “Lord Olivar! A moment of your time please.”

The rotund noble sighed. “I’ll be there in a moment.” Myraelle looked between them with a worried frown but stepped into the room. “You have one minute.” He sneered at Halligan.

“How much to free Myraelle?”

Olivar choked on his spit as he looked up at Halligan. “You want to buy her?” Halligan nodded, and Olivar rubbed his multilayered chin. “She cost me quite the sum. Not to mention her value as a servant.” The noble stood there pondering until a nasty smile came to his lips. “I’d say seven hundred gold would suffice.”

“Seven…” Halligan could barely breathe.

“Of course.” Olivar chuckled, his eyes shined with a vicious light. “However, you were once Lady Priscilla’s knight. If you could convince her to marry me, then I might consider selling her for cheaper.”

A knot formed in Halligan’s stomach. “I understand. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Until then, I suggest we keep this a secret between us. We wouldn’t want to get Myra’s hopes up after all.” Halligan nodded as the noble stepped into his room.

Halligan ran a hand through his hair. “Seven hundred gold, where in the Dead Prison am I going to get that?” He stumbled down the hall. “Maybe I could ask the Duke for help?” A heavy sigh left him as he shook his head. “No, I couldn’t impose that on him. Not after all he’s done.” He passed by a window, and the sunlight reflected into his eyes. The spire from the cathedral peaked over the castle’s walls. “Perhaps, they’ll help me.”

Halligan couldn’t get the image of Myraelle out of his mind. She was as beautiful as when he last laid eyes on her all those years ago, but her beauty was marred by that disgusting slave crest. His blood boiled when he remembered the noble pawing at her. Treating her like an object rather than a person, it was unforgivable. This time he would save her. This time he wouldn’t fail. These thoughts fueled his steps as he made his way over to the cathedral and he stepped into the well-lit sanctuary.

The priests silently moved through the sanctuary tending to the morning worshippers. Mumbled prayers buzzed through the air as some knelt at the feet of the seven statues, and the room smelled heavily of incense. The many stained-glass windows filled the room in a rainbow of colors that made the room an awesome sight. Halligan never grew tired of seeing the majesty dedicated to the Virtues.

“May I be of service, Sir Halligan?” A priest approached with a warm smile.

“Is Patron Waldren available?” Halligan shook himself from his stupor.

“We can see.” The priest ushered him along. “He has a meeting coming up shortly, but I’m certain he’ll see you.”

Halligan gave the priest a relieved smile and followed him to the back of the sanctuary. Patron Waldren tended to a large alter with imagery of all seven Virtues on it. His soft, plump hands were adorned with many golden rings that matched the splendor of his priestly robes. His grey sideburns were neatly trimmed as it grew into a groomed beard, and his hair was pulled back into a small ponytail.

Walden gave Halligan a fatherly smile. “It’s good to see you, son. How may I be of service?”

“It’s good to see you as well Patron. I have a request I’d like to make.” Halligan took a deep breath. “I need help freeing a woman who’s been enslaved.”

“Poor child.” Waldren shook his head in disgust. “Slavery is one of the greatest sins that the tyrant Elithis taught mankind. Do you know where this poor woman is?”

“Yes, she’s in the service of Lord Olivar Triemiere.”

Waldren clicked his teeth in frustration. “I’m afraid there isn’t much I can do. His Holiness has given pardons to the nobility when it comes to slavery. After all, it’s a common form of punishment for the lowliest of scum.”

“But this woman’s done nothing wrong!” Halligan pleaded. “She was sold to pay off her family’s debt.”

“Debt’s must be paid, son.” Waldren sighed. “If there’s proof that Lord Olivar is mistreating the girl, then I can do something, but this matter is out of my hands.”

“Please, there must be-”

“Patron, your guests are here.”

Halligan turned as a woman in fine clothing approached. She looked radiant in her modest dress, and the Amu’Ryjin woman behind her was also stunning. So much so, he had trouble focusing on either woman. He remembered seeing them before at the Black Horn Guild. However, their names escaped him.

“Lady Meridith, I presume.” The Patron smiled as he kissed her knuckles. “Master Baron failed to mention how beautiful you were.” His eyes flicked over to the attendant. “Your servant is also quite stunning.”

“You’re too kind, Patron.” Meridith smiled warmly. “But it seems we are interrupting something.”

“No, Sir Halligan and I were finished.” Waldren said with a stern gaze, and he gestured to a side door.

“I see, then if you’ll excuse us Sir Halligan.” Meridith curtsied to him as she and her attendant followed the Patron.

Halligan stared at the Amu’Ryjin woman. She quickly glanced over at him, and for a moment, she looked afraid. Why would she be afraid?

“Is there anything else I can help you with?” Halligan’s attention returned to the priest.

Halligan groaned in embarrassment. “May I speak with Lady Urielle?”

Pain and sorrow painted the priest’s face. “Saint Urielle, hasn’t been in the best condition as of late.” He sighed in sympathy. “She’s taken her failure quite hard and has holed herself up in her room.”

“Is it possible for me to see her?”

Urielle lay there curled up on her bed. She tightly gripped her pillow as images flashed before her eyes. Clashing steel, rotten zombies, and a monster with piercing crimson eyes haunted her dreams. The thick stench of blood clung to her body, and all she could do was cry at all the death around her. The crunching of stone drew her attention as she stared up at Reviled Legion.

It’s bloody claws grabbed her throat and lifted her into the air. Tears stained her cheeks as the monster’s lower face opened. A broken sob escaped her lips as she tried pulling the arms away, but it was useless. There was no one to help her. Halligan, Torrn, Emir, Regald, Giale, Nial, they all were dead at her feet. Reviled’s tongue shot out, and Urielle woke from the fright.

Urielle sat there as fear caused her heart to race. Her lower lip quivered, and she tried to fight back the tears, but it was pointless. The weight of her failure crushed her, and she cried into her pillow.

A knock came from the door. “Saint Urielle?” The title cut deep into her heart, and she buried herself deeper into her bed. “Sir Halligan is here to see you.”

Urielle wiped the tears from her eyes. “I’m not decent. Tell him to come back later.” She croaked.

“Lady Urielle, please, I need to speak with you.” Halligan’s voice broke through the barrier.

Urielle slowly crawled out of bed. When she tried to stand, her legs betrayed her, and she fell onto the cold floor. She couldn’t keep the sob from escaping her throat. At that moment, all she could feel was frustration. Warmth enveloped her, and she found herself staring into Halligan’s face as he wrapped a blanket around her.

“I’m sorry for intruding,” Halligan whispered, “I heard you crying, and wanted to check on you.” Urielle pulled the blanket tighter. The embarrassment at having been seen in her naked state brought a blush to her cheeks.

“I shouldn’t be here.” Urielle sniffled as she wiped her cheeks clean. “I’m simply a burden to all of you.”

“You aren’t a-”

“Of course I am!” Urielle snapped. “I couldn’t do anything, and it’s because of me that Giale and Elizar are dead. I’m not a saint. I’m simply a priestess from a small village.” Her head fell, and the tears blurred her vision. “I should be tending to farmers and goodwives. I should be healing scraped knees or mild illness. Not fighting agents of the Dead Gods.” Urielle’s face was veiled underneath her hair.

“I should be in the vineyards harvesting grapes.” Halligan replied with a somber voice. Urielle peaked at him from between her locks, and for a moment, the young man looked older than he should. “But the woman I loved was sold into slavery. I was so desperate to save her that I ran away from home and enlisted in the army.” He pulled off the black gauntlet on his left arm to reveal the bleached white bones underneath. “I grew impatient, and fear drove me to make a foolish mistake. Now, I’m stuck with this tainted arm.”

Urielle stared at the corrupted appendage. The black flesh around the elbow reeked of decay, and it contrasted against the rest of the flesh on his arm. The bones clacked with each movement. Strands of necrotic mana held the bones together and were the only reason why he could still control it.

“I’m simply a farm boy, but I won’t let that get in my way.” A small smile came to his lips. “The woman I love is here in this city. For her sake, I can’t give up now that she’s so close, but I’m unable to fight against Reviled Legion on my own. I need help.” He turned to Urielle, and she became enraptured by the fire burning in his green eyes.

Urielle took his skeletal hand. “I’m merely a priestess from a small town, but I’ll do everything in my power to help you.” The warm smile Halligan gave her made her heart skip, and her cheeks flushed for a different reason.

“Thank you.” Halligan’s skeletal fingers gently gripped her own. “I’ll gladly have your support.” Urielle’s breath caught in her throat when he pulled away. “I should let you get decent.”

Urielle simply stared in awe as Halligan left. Her eyes traced the lines of his broad shoulders, and it was hard to see him as an apprentice. When the door closed, Urielle slowly rose to her feet. She took a few steps and stopped when her own reflection caught her attention.

She was a complete mess. Her hair tangled and filthy from laying in bed for an entire week. Her pale skin still held traces of the filth from the failed expedition, and she suddenly became aware of the awful smell coming off her. Yet, a fire burned in her sunken eyes, and she pulled the cord that called the servants.

It wasn’t long for a knock to come from her door. “Did you need something, my lady?” a priestess peeked inside.

“Have a bath ready, please, and also a change of clothes.” Urielle took a deep breath. “Then, could see if Sir Emir is available.”

“Of course.”

The door closed, and Urielle continued to stare at her own reflection. “After what we went through, why would you still come to me for help?” She whispered as she remembered Halligan’s warm smile, and a smile slowly formed on her own lips. “You’re so much more than a farm boy.” She placed her hand over her rapidly beating heart. “And maybe, I can be more than a village priestess.”