Chapter 80: An Unwilling Accomplice

If anything, the two from the Church of the Dawn were the definition of professional. They took the vulgar question in stride, the only sign that they were offended was a twitchy eyebrow on Paladin Hargrove. Ryan stood there slack jawed, not knowing how to manage the sudden development. He was relieved to see the long absent Professor, but terrified of what could possibly happen next. He started to back away slowly, heading for the stairs as Priest Unilith spoke.

"Forgive me if I am mistaken, but you must be Kalcifer, correct?"

Crossing his arms in front of his chest, wrinkling the fine fabric of his new robe, Professor Kal answered. "And what of it?"

"My associate and I are investigating certain claims that have been brought to the attention of the church. If you would be willing to cooperate with our investigation, we will be able to put this entire matter behind us in a timely manner." Priest Unilith said in a slow and monotonous tone.

Professor Kal cocked an eyebrow, instantly understanding the situation.

"Does it hurt?" He asked.

Priest Unilith narrowed his eyes, not following the logic behind the question. "I don't follow."

A mischievous smile spread across the Professor's face as he answered. "The stick, the stick that's shoved up your ass has got to be excruciating. It's so far up there that I'd bet you can taste the pine!"

Ryan almost fainted, he had to steady himself against the wall. Professor Kal's cackling sounded distant as he took deep breaths, attempting to stay on his feet. Oh gods, he wanted to go home. Why was he being punished in such a way? Had he done something to anger the gods so much, that they were going to let him die in a bloody battle within some dingy basement? All he could do was pray to whatever gods were listening that the envoys were capable of practicing self restraint, because he sure as hells knew that Professor Kal was incapable of such a feat.

Paladin Hargrove gripped the hilt of his sword that he kept on his hip, his leather gloves creaking under the strain. His eternally stoic face contorted into a deep frown as he debated on if he should smite the foul-mouthed man brave enough to insult the church, or just arrest him for his blasphemy. Priest Unilith was as equally perturbed as his friend, not used to being talked to in such a harsh manner. Everyone, be they commoner or the King himself, respected the Church of the Dawn; feared might have been a better word, but those two words could be interchangeable.

They knew better than to even utter a passing remark demeaning the church, and here, this man was openly insulting one of their priests. And he was still laughing! Tears were streaming from the man's eyes as he continued to laugh and crow at his own humor, he was going at it so hard that he was having trouble catching his breath, wheezing in between fits.

Paladin Hargrove, having made up his mind, ripped the sword from its sheath in a fury. A thick vein jogged underneath the skin on his forehead as he pushed Priest Unilith to the side and plunged the sharpened steel into the heart of the vulgar man. Thick, hot blood spattered the walls of the cramped stairwell, filling the air with the distinctive stench of iron. Ryan felt the heat from the life-giving fluid as it splattered on his face, he stood in wide eyed shock at seeing the Paladin's sword sprouting out of his own back.

Toppling over in a limp heap, Paladin Hargrove fell to the ground with the bloody sword still gripped in his hand. Professor Kal was standing over him, completely unharmed and no longer laughing hysterically. He was looking down at the mountain of a man, now reduced to a small hill, with eyes just as wide as the other two next to him.

"That's a nifty trick." Professor Kal said, running his hands over the black and violet fabric covering his heart.

"What have you done!" Priest Unilith shouted, his calm demeanor nowhere to be seen. "You will pay dearly for this; you have just murdered a Holy Paladin! The church will flay you alive, they will pull your guts out on a spool! You will wish you were never born!"

"Now, now." Professor Kal said in a joking tone. "He very clearly done it to himself. Don't try to blame me for it."

Turning around, Priest Unilith made to escape up the stairs, right where Ryan was standing. Still reeling from the shock of what was happening, Ryan couldn't understand the weird brow raises and head nods Professor Kal was giving him behind the priest's back.

"Out of the way, boy!" Priest Unilith said, knocking Ryan out of the way as he took a step up the rickety stairs.

Priest Unilith only made it halfway up the stairs before tumbling back down, unconscious and bleeding from the back of his head. Professor Kal had produced a large stone and chucked it at the retreating man, hitting him squarely in the head. By this point, Ryan had been reduced to a hyperventilating mess, his face was pale, and lips were blue. The last thing he saw before passing out was Professor Kal petting a sick looking dog that had come to investigate the noise.

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Shaking his head at his protégé's weak spine, Professor Kal spoke to Trist as she was gnawing on the Paladin's exposed head. "I guess you're going to have to help me with the bodies now."

…..

Sarah brought her hand up in order to protect her shut eyes from the warm sunlight filtering through a clear window. In the groggy state between deep sleep and consciousness, she floated in the softness caressing her body and the warmth of the mid-morning sun. Then the headache hit. Like hammer blows to her skull, her head pounded with each beat of her heart. The jarring pain brought with it the muddled memories from the night before, sending her reeling in a panic.

Her eyes snapped open, only compounding the ache that she felt burrowing into her brain. Finding herself laying within an unfamiliar bed, set within an unfamiliar room, she first checked underneath the silken covers.

"Oh no." She whispered in distress.

She was no longer dressed in her dull mantel she had sported the previous night, nor was she wearing any of the clothes that she had worn. She could only see her bare skin, pock-marked from a sickness she had as a small child. Embarrassment, shame, anger, a myriad of emotions was overwhelming her, threatening to send her into a mania. The only saving grace was that her undergarments were still resolutely attached to her hips, allowing her to think that the worse had not happened.

She took in deep, steady breaths, attempting to calm her frayed nerves. Panicking would be detrimental to her current situation, she forced herself to fall back on her training from when she was in the military and the experiences she's had in the past. Although this specific scenario had never been covered, they had taught her how to control her emotions to a certain extent, allowing her to overcome any unexpected events.

Wrapping the smooth top-sheet around herself like a makeshift roman toga, she shot to her feet. The frigid cold seeping into her bare feet reminded her that winter was in full swing, no matter what the sunshine had to say about the matter. Making toward the door, she grimaced as the floorboards creaked under her weight, she put her ear against the grainy wood and listened intently.

Hearing nothing but the settling timber and the howling wind outside, she determined the house to be empty at the moment. Her goal was to find some clothes before slipping outside and making her way back to the inn. She turned the knob slowly before opening the solid door, its hinges mercifully quiet as they swung inward.

The room she was in was on the second floor of what looked like a noble's house. Elegant decorations lined the short hall, while contemporary art hung on the walls leading down parallel the polished banister. A stained-glass sunlight built into the rooftop of the house focused the natural sunlight, illuminating the upper floor with a kaleidoscope of marvelous colors.

All of these sights failed to impress her, her own family was of noble blood, so she was accustomed to seeing such splendor. Although, whoever's house this was must have been of notable wealth to be able to afford stained-glass, as it was exceptionally labor intensive, and the dyes used were rare.

With timid steps, she made her way down the stairs, making sure to keep a tight grip on the bedding that covered her naked body. Successfully making it to the landing without creating too much noise, she stopped for a moment and listened to the house once again. Satisfied in the nothingness reaching her ears, she continued her anxious journey deeper into the house in search of something more traditional to wear.

As she moved from room to room, she began to grow concerned over the lack of people. In a house as lavish and large as this, it wasn't uncommon for there to be at least a dozen servants running about, conducting their daily tasks. Trying not to worry about something she had no control over, she began to rummage through a seven-foot-tall, elegantly carved armoire that stood in the corner of a downstairs bedroom.

"I am relieved to see that you are finally awake." A sultry voice penetrated her ears from directly behind her, so close that she could feel the breath on her bare shoulder.

She wheeled around instantly, her fist already whipping toward where the voice had come from. Hitting nothing but empty air, she looked around in confusion and thought for a brief moment that maybe she was hallucinating. It had felt so real, so… visceral; there was no way that she had imagined it. A cold draft caused her skin to goosepimple, alerting her to the fact that she had dropped the bedsheet that covered her body.

"I can see why Marissa has taken such an interest in you." The same voice rang out, only this time coming from the other side of the room. "You have a charming quality, and you clearly take care of your body."

She hurriedly retrieved the sheet that had rumpled around her feet before directing her attention to the man standing next to the canopied bed. He was tall and slender, not in an effeminate way, but in a way that made her curious as to what was hidden beneath his tight-fitting attire. His stunning shoulder-length silver hair shone in the sunlight trickling through the crystal window, it flowed like water as he moved toward her. His skin was flawless but appeared sickly pale, like he hadn't ever felt the kiss of the sun; but at the same time there was a vitality to him, a strength that contradicted his pallor.

She instinctually took a step back but had nowhere to go as she bumped into the wardrobe behind her. A familiar chill prickled her skin as the man gingerly lifted her chin with his thumb and forefinger, directing her eyes into his. Deep crimson irises encircled pure black pupils, a feature so unique and striking that she found herself lost inside his gaze.. She suddenly took in a gasp of air; she had been so enraptured that she had forgotten to breathe.

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