The Last Sin

The next day, I met the party around the breakfast table and broke the news about the Sanctifiers. Dugan took the news like he took everything in a calm silence as he shovelled down his porridge.

Isla was more shocked by the Sanctifiers' making enchanted items than by the inquisitor. That fact was hidden, even from the nobility. The book in my hands was a valuable bargaining chip, a piece of evidence that ruined the Sanctifiers' reputation while also allowing us to listen in on their private communications.

Castille's reaction to the news was the strangest of the three. She tried to match Dugan's calm demeanour, but there was tension in her shoulders and face. She knew how dangerous our situation was, yet she wanted to continue anyway.

To my surprise, so did the others. Why? There were less risky ways to make money. I needed to know.

"I don't get it. Castille, why do you want this so much? Why do any of you?"

Isla shifted in her seat, unable to meet my eyes.

Dugan stared at me but said nothing.

"If you must know, it's for my younger brother," Castille said.

She leaned forward with her elbow on the table, her hand cupping the side of her face.

"Every year, the King calls on his lords to tithe resources and men for the war against Dahlgesh. A lord short on resources or men can provide a surplus of the other. The North is poor in resources, so we provide a surplus of men."

She chuckled to herself.

"So many of us are at war that we don't have the manpower to develop our resources. My grandfather served, my father served, and I… tried to serve."

"You’re a deserter?" Isla whispered.

Castille gave Isla a dismissive glance before turning back to me.

"You throw around that word too lightly. I served in good faith for two years, but the war I was fighting was not my war. It was for the nobles. Aye, I deserted. I went back home to be with my family because dying with them was better than being another nameless soldier in no man’s land. When I was discovered, I threw myself at my Lord's mercy and then Andric, scrawny, brave Andric, offered to do triple my term of service in return for my life."

Isla looked down at the table.

"A triple term? How long is that?" I asked.

"Twelve years on the bloodiest battlefield in the Abyssal Lands. That was six years ago."

I raised my eyebrows.

"Do you even know if he's alive?"

She looked at me, a slight smile playing on her lips, a softness in her eyes that startled me.

"I don't. My life was spared, but I was banished from my home, from my family. That's when I became an adventurer and met Dugan. Years ago, I learned about this quest and knew it was the one way to save my brother.”

If he’s still alive.

"How will this quest save your brother?"

"It's the loophole," Isla whispered.

Castille nodded.

"Aye. Nobles and the family of nobles are exempt from the tithe. Some excuse about protecting their lands from beastkin raids."

"But many voluntarily serve in the war like the Southern nobles whose lands are directly threatened with Dahlgeshi invasion," Isla said.

"Or those who seek glory for their house and the King's favour. In the end, the nobles are the players, and we commoners are pawns in their games," Castille said.

"So, you want the King to make you a minor noble to free your brother from his military service."

Castille gave him a grim smile.

“Aye.”

"Are you really willing to become one of us, Castille? Something you despise?" Isla asked.

She crossed her arms.

"For my family? Of course."

Since when was becoming a noble some kind of sacrifice?

"Last question. If you have known about this quest for years, why are you doing it now?"

"Because I wasn't ready before. I'm ready now."

She straightened in her chair, meeting my gaze with the confidence I’d come to expect from Castille.

I nodded.

“And you, Isla?”

"Um… I'm also doing this quest to keep a family member safe," Isla said. "I'm sorry, I can't say anything more."

She looked to Castille, who gave her an approving nod.

How close had those two become over the past weeks?

"What about Dugan?"

Dugan quirked his eyebrows at the mention of his name and shrugged.

"He's with me," Castille said, reaching across the table to grab his forearm. Her tone said that there would be no more questioning. I nodded, leaning back into my chair.

'What now?" Isla asked.

"We’re a two-day ride from Steeltown on horseback. One and a half if we push the horses, which I think we should do," Castille said.

"You think we might get attacked on the road?" I asked.

"No, but I don't want to enter Steeltown at night. The place is full of criminals."

"Riding into town in the middle of the day will draw attention," I said.

"True enough, but we don't know the lay of the land. If we had contacts in Steeltown, I would feel better about sneaking in after dark."

As if on cue, Mother Geslin shuffled into the room holding two plates in her hands and balancing two more in the crooks of her elbows. She placed the fine porcelain plates on the table, presenting us with slices of fresh bread and venison jerky from our supplies.

I picked up a piece of bread and ignored the bite taken out of its corner.

"Geslin, do you know anyone in Steeltown?" I asked.

"Well, let's see. There was Patrick Finney, Leslie McClain, Arwen-"

"Wait, was?"

"Yeah, people from this village who went to Steeltown. They're probably dead now."

I sighed.

"Is Steeltown even the right place to go? We don't even know if our target is still in the Dellends."

"It's our best lead," Isla said.

She gestured to Geslin, who had taken a seat with her own plate of food.

"If Mother Geslin is right, the curse started at the mountains outside of Steeltown."

"And they're just going to let us walk up to these mountains?" I asked.

"No, we'll need a cover story," Castille said.

"You could be merchants," Mother Geslin said. "The elf looks the part. The rest of you could be his bodyguards: two muscly types and the little lady as a cutthroat."

Isla blanched at her description. Castille nodded her head. Dugan was Dugan.

"And what would I sell?" I asked.

Mother Geslin tore off a piece of jerky with her teeth.

"What everyone's buying: food, water and anything that isn't nailed to the ground. The boar is a good gimmick, too. It's memorable and explains why you don't have a wagon full of goods."

She definitely should be called Clever Geslin. That cover would work. Looking at my party members, I saw the same glimmer of agreement.

"That sounds like a plan."

An hour later, we were packed up and ready for the road. We left extra food rations for Mother Geslin, who waved to us as we set off.

Our next stop was Steeltown; we were woefully unprepared.