Chapter 11: Chapter 11: Drowning your Sorrows

Chapter 11-Drowning your Sorrows.

“It takes a lot to get the Gods to renounce their protection. You have to well and truly Jag something up for them to turn their backs on you. Murder, Rape, Torture, that sort of nastiness, and once you’ve lost the Pantheon's support, death becomes a whole lot scarier. Suddenly you don’t have a cushy reincarnation or even an Anointment to look forward to. Instead, your soul is left out in the cold, looking nice and juicy for any hungry Demon. At that point, lots of options that once seemed unthinkable get thinked about.” - Mak Murtrey, Rest-Bringer. On the topic of why people pursue Undeath.

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The mood in the Silly Goat when Cole returned was grim. Wilhelm and Barnabas were caught in a tense conversation, barely acknowledging Cole’s arrival. Wilhelm just nodded at the big man and Barnabas giving a half-lidded glare. Natalie was over by the fire, a worried look on her face. Seeing that something had happened, Cole moved over to Natalie and asked:

“What’s wrong? What happened while I was gone?”

Natalie looked up at Cole, a weak smile on her face. “A Dayman paid us a visit. He wanted information about you.”

A frown contorted Cole’s many scars as he looked over Natalie, noticing the slight bruising on her left hand. “Did he hurt you?”

From behind the bar, Wilhelm let out a slow breath. The fact Cole’s first words were about his daughter's safety made the man feel marginally better about this whole situation. From what the innkeeper had seen, Cole was what he claimed to be. Barnabas, by contrast, felt no relief or anything remotely positive. He’d watched his adopted niece come down the stairs with uncertain fear in her eyes, and he saw the content cruelty in the Dayman’s face. Cole had put Natalie in the eyes of a predator, and despite Natalie’s insistence she was alright, Barnabas was furious she’d gotten involved with this mess.

Natalie gave a weak smile and shrugged. “I’ll be alright. Bully’s like that bastard enjoy throwing their weight around. Especially when they aren’t getting what they want. I didn't tell him anything useful; weirdly enough, all he wanted to know was your religion.”

Cole winced and sighed, “Natalie, for my own sanity and your security, please focus on surviving a situation like that and worry less about what information you might give.”

Natalie’s smile strengthened at his words and she changed the topic. “I take it went well with Trude?”

It was Cole’s turn to grin. “I guess you can say that. She’s making me new clothes and didn’t strangle me with her measuring rope.”

That got a slight smile from Natalie, and she glanced over both of them, seeing how incredibly disheveled and grimy they both were. Cole had the worst of it, covered in dried blood and dirt, but they both needed to wash up.

Despite Cole’s condition, Natalie intended to take a woman’s prerogative and bathe first. “I’m going to get a bath and wash the Lungu off of me. I’ll heat up extra water so you can clean yourself up as well.”

With those words, Natalie limped up the stairs and left Cole with Wilhelm and Barnabas. Cole set himself down on a bench, and the three men sat in silence. Several different ideas to break the tension flitted through Cole’s mind, but none of them seemed particularly good. Wilhelm instead broke the silence.

“The thing that killed Filip’s sister, you really destroyed it?” A mixture of worry, surprise, and a hint of awe touched the innkeeper's voice.

Nodding in affirmation, Cole looked down to see a familiar feline rubbing herself against his legs. He reached down and scratched Stockings behind the ears as he elaborated. “It was a Walking Charnel, an Undead created by Lungu’s destruction. I destroyed it and took care of its remains.”

Now it was Barnabas’s turn to talk. “Natalie explained that. But she didn’t say how. How in the Pantheon’s name did you beat something like that?”

Quirking his lips in a smile, Cole fished out the Spark-Stone from his pack and held it out for Barnabas to see. “With your help, actually Barnabas. I combined this with a few of my own tricks to burn the Rattler to full-death.”

The silence returned and, this time, hung around for a full minute before Barnabas broke it with a curse. “Jag me, you're telling me you used that dinky little magical knick-knack to destroy an avalanche of bone?”

Again Cole nodded and spoke. “With difficulty”

Those words were backed by the collection of injuries covering Cole. They also produced an air of tension Cole hadn’t meant to create. Both older men glanced back between each other, and eventually, this time, no one broke the silence, and the three men slowly returned to their tasks. Wilhelm gathered up ingredients for that night's dinner. Barnabas looked over a ledger and grumbled to himself. While Cole played with the Cat.

Cole liked Cats, and for the most part, they liked him. More than other animals, at least. Dogs hated him on principle. His smell or, more accurately, lack of one distressed them. While most livestock and beasts of burden got jittery around him. Cole wondered if he spent so much time immersed in death that sheep and the like could sense it on him instinctually. Horses, in particular, avoided Cole, and even the most placid nag could be counted to buck him if he tried to ride her. Yet Cats seemed wonderfully indifferent to Cole’s peculiarities and would gladly accept his affection.

Eventually, Natalie returned, clad in a clean dress and looking incredibly refreshed. The young woman entered the tavern, and her presence instantly dissipated some of the tension in the room. She noticed this and took a moment to consider this. Even her father and Barnabas were nervous around Cole, something that didn’t portend anything good for her plans. Natalie needed to find a way to get people to trust or at least not be afraid of Cole. She had some ideas, but for any of them to work, she needed to have Cole not look like a leper who’d been run over by a horse-drawn cart.

“The Bath is ready, plenty of hot water for you. So go get yourself cleaned off while I scavenge up some bandages for you,” said Natalie.

Her words finding Cole hunched over on a bench playing with Stockings. Looking up to see the young Woman, Cole started to thank her before stopping mid-sentence. Natalie had changed and wore a very flattering dress. Its skirts were voluminous and multi-layered, typical for the cold climate of Glockmire. While an expertly tailored blouse with flowing sleeves covered her torsos. The clothes hugged Natalie’s generous curves, and Cole felt a momentary stab of embarrassment as he realized his eyes had lingered a second too long on her bust. Aside from the dress, Natalie also wore red lipstick and a hint of blush that contrasted wonderfully with her pale skin. Left momentarily speechless, Cole tried to find words as Natalie flashed him an amused smile and remarked.

“I take it you like my outfit?” Natalie twirled in a circle, letting her skirt flare out. “We need to make a good presentation tonight if we’re going to win any hearts and minds.”

Cole nodded dumbly and continued trying to find words before settling on “You… look nice.” That got a knowing smile from Natalie as she leaned forward and grabbed Cole’s arm. She pulled the large man to his feet and guided him towards the staircase. Acquiescing to her will, Cole let Natalie guide him. His eyes locked firmly forward to avoid embarrassing himself again.

They arrived at the washroom and the large tub of warm water Natalie had prepared. A heavy floral smell filled the room, a mixture of Lilac and Rosewater. Expensive scents, especially for a town like Glockmire.

“These are expensive perfumes? How did you manage to get them?” remarked Cole as he glanced around the Bathroom. Aside from the tub, there was a pile of clean towels and a stack of soaps.

Natalie smiled at his words. “Perks of knowing Barnabas. He always lets me get the first pick of his ‘feminine stock,’ as the old codger calls it. Speaking of, the Rosewater extract is off-limits, but the rest of my supply is open to you. “

Cole nodded in understanding and glanced back at Natalie. He found his eyes drawn to less than gentlemanly places to his chagrin. She had her hips cocked at a proactive angle and held her arms to accentuate her bust. A wide, almost amused smile colored Natalie’s face, and Cole realized a few things then. Natalie was flirting with him and also enjoying seeing him become flustered.

As this realization set in, Cole did something rather out of character. He acted impulsively. Cole still had no idea what his feelings were related to Natalie, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t return the favor and try to fluster her a bit. Going over to the tub, Cole stripped off his shirt as casually as possible and reached down to test the water. As he did, he asked a question.

“So what exactly is the story behind Barnabas? You’re not blood-related, but he seems to be family?”

Natalie took a moment to respond, trying to not gawk at Cole’s scarred back. His toned muscles had the type of masculine perfection only seen in statues and the fantasies of hormonal youths. But like the rest of him, it was marred by a stratum of scars. In particular, the middle of his back had a ragged series of gashes that formed a nearly unbroken stretch of tattered skin. Natalie had no clue what could produce such a wound. But if she had to guess, she thought it might be the marks of sustained lashes. Any arousal at the moment was quickly quashed by the visceral horror those marks spoke to.

Catching herself and looking away, Natalie answered. “Barnabas got his start as a merchant largely thanks to a loan from my Grandfather. He paid it back and continued to be a good customer and eventual friend to my Father. Dad views Barnabas as an older brother since he didn’t have any siblings, and Barnabas helped keep him out of trouble when they were both young. They were actually each other's Best Men at each other's weddings. Speaking of, I’m fairly certain Barnabas introduced my parents to each other. My Mom came to town in one of the Trade Caravan’s Barnabas used to organize.”

The water was a perfect temperature, and Cole let it warm his hands as he asked. “Your Mother wasn’t native to Glockmire?”

Turning away from Cole, half worried he was about to drop his pants and climb into the tub, Natalie answered. “Yes, she came from the South. Don’t ask me from where, though. She never told me.”

To her surprise and shock, Natalie heard the sound of rustling cloth and a splash of water as Cole disrobed and entered the Tub. Utterly stunned, Natalie whirled around to see Cole submerged up to his neck in the warm water. Turning beet-red, Natalie stammered over her words as she started to repudiate Cole for his crass behavior. She stopped when a knowing grin cracked on Cole’s face. “Two can play at your game Nat,” he remarked.

Natalie let out a sound that mixed a squeak of surprise, a huff of annoyance, and a snort of laughter. Picking up one of the hand towels sitting nearby, she wetted it and whipped it at Cole’s face. The wet cloth made a satisfying sound as it hit Cole. Grunting in surprise, he pulled it away to see Natalie leaning over him, a curious expression on her face. For a moment, they stared at each other, faces shockingly close. Neither moved, and eventually, Natalie sighed and turned to leave the room. Before she left, Natalie remarked. “If you wanted to kiss me then, I’d have been open to it.”

The door clicked shut behind her, and Cole was left alone in the Bathroom. Her words and his own actions left Cole momentarily stunned. Slumping back into the tub Cole shut his eyes and took a deep breath. What were his intentions with Natalie? She was beautiful, clever, and so damn Alive. It enraptured Cole, calling out to him like a fire on a cold day. Yet he had obligations and problems aplenty. Pursuing romance with Natalie seemed an incredibly stupid idea. Especially since Cole knew who his heart belonged to.

Reaching up with a wet hand, Cole massaged the bite marks on his neck and remembered their source. Many came from nights of cool lips on his skin and laughter shared between lovers. Others came from later times when his love was dead, and he was chained. Drained to the point of death over and over and over.

Shaking away those memories, Cole stared up at the ceiling for a little while. He couldn’t have a future with Natalie, no matter what part of him wanted. While having a tryst with her seemed unfair to both of them. The matter was further complicated by the shade he felt clinging to Isabelle’s skull. The woman he loved was dead, but that could change. A possibility that had put him on this path and that still haunted him.

Dunking himself under the water to clear his thoughts. Cole started to get to work cleaning himself. Washing off the ash, dried blood, sweat, and filth. Cole grabbed one of the more bland soaps from Natalie’s pile and was glad his hair had been burnt to virtually nothing. Saving him from trying to decipher which of the glass bottles contained an appropriate hair soap. The soap stung Cole’s wounds, purging them of any infection and leaving a painful burning in its wake. Despite the near-constant stings of pain from his myriad cuts, Cole found himself enjoying the respite provided by a bath. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d properly bathed. His lifestyle kept him on the road for weeks at a time, and his lack of a natural odor made going such lengths without washing feasible, if not particularly pleasant.

As he finished up, Cole looked down at his injuries and made an unpleasant decision. He was standing and capable of walking about largely thanks to his own pain tolerance and sheer bloody-mindedness. If something happened, he wouldn’t be fast or strong enough to help. So while he healed a little quicker than most, thanks to his atypical origin and blood magic. It wouldn’t be nearly enough.

Sighing, Cole leaned back in the tub and let its water cover him fully. Eyes shut and trying to relax, Cole exhaled. A stream of bubbles flowed up from his mouth until nothing was left in his lungs. Injured and tired, Cole quickly felt the burn of suffocation in the water. He did his best to ignore it and focused on his duty. He had people he needed to help and a task to fulfill. Nothing would stop that, no matter how much pain he had to experience. The burn in his lungs turned into an ugly fire, and Cole resisted the urge to draw breath and inhale in soapy water. A normal man would have pulled himself free at this point, instinct overwhelming any desire. But Cole had never been normal, nor ever truly a man.

Darkness crept up on Cole. Even with his eyes closed, he could tell it was coming. A slowly shrinking aperture devouring the murky shadows hidden by his eyelids. Flickers of faces he’d known crossed his mind in those moments. Old friends, long since dead. Hated Enemies who yet survived. And new connections that might be saved. As the darkness took him in totality, Cole found himself smiling. He could help these people, and if he needed to drown himself in the process, he’d do it. After all, there were worse ways to die; Cole knew that for a fact.

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Natalie shut the door to the Bath and buried her face in her hands. A mixture of embarrassment, anger, and confusion warred within her. Letting out an aggravated sigh, she went to her room and found her carving tools. Grumbling to herself, Natalie sat down and continued working on the Cat statue she’d started the night Cole arrived. After a few minutes of unsuccessful artistry, Natalie set the unfinished statue down and went to grab a fresh piece of wood. She kept a small bundle of choice bits of scrap wood in her room. Not large enough for a proper statue but wasted as kindling, Natalie kept the wood to practice and experiment with.

Getting comfortable again, Natalie started etching a scene into a piece of wood. Carving a stylized representation of Cole fighting the Walking Charnel. Jagged scratches became piles of bone, and smooth flowing cuts started to resemble Cole. His now ruined cloak billowing in the wind and his halberd held high. Natalie stared at the forming image and realized her attempts to distract herself from what just happened with Cole were failing miserably.

Natalie had planned to take a slow and steady approach with Cole. That had fallen apart when she saw him getting flustered about her dress. Seeing such a confident and strong man stutter and blush at her appearance was extremely cute and incredibly endearing. So Natalie had let passion rule, and for a brief moment, it seemed like Cole had as well. Then that moment had stalled out, with neither making the next move. Leaving Natalie both embarrassed and infuriated at both herself and Cole.

Realizing stalling and worrying were doing little to help her. Natalie kept working on the carving of Cole facing the Charnel. If nothing else, it helped her practice this type of woodworking. She preferred traditional sculpture, but carving images had some appeal. An hour passed by while working on the piece, and Natalie found herself making surprising progress with the carving. Having finished the basic outline and started adding more detail to the piece. A soft knock at her bedroom door pulled Natalie from the creative flow and forced her to get up and answer it.

To her surprise, it was not Wilhelm at the door but Cole. Natalie looked up at the freshly-cleaned man and was surprised by what she saw. Cole looked better, a lot better than he had just an hour ago. It was not just the fresh clothes and lack of grime. He stood taller and lacked the gaunt weariness she’d seen in him earlier. Cole had also changed his bandages but not replaced all of them. Some of his visible injuries were reduced to drying scabs and fading bruises. The only thing about Cole that wasn’t notably approved was his eyes. They had a haunted pained expression, which quickly vanished at her presence. Hidden under a nervous-looking smile and whatever words he had planned.

Holding up a hand to silence him, Natalie spoke instead. “We both let ourselves get carried away. People do stupid things after surviving a near-death experience. Let's both agree not to discuss it and see where this goes naturally.”

Cole’s smile died a quick death, and he nodded in agreement. Natalie thought she saw some hesitancy and confusion in his face but couldn’t tell for certain. Centering herself and getting back to business, Natalie steered the conversation in a different direction.

“I’ve been thinking about where we might want to start looking for ritual sites. There are a few good possibilities, and I wanted to run them by you.”

Natalie pushed past Cole’s large frame in the doorway and started moving downstairs. Turning back to him, she continued. “I want to demystify you, and I think having you work in the Silly Goat proper instead of your room would help that. Grab your maps while I set up a space.”

Shrugging in resignation more to himself than anyone else. Cole did as she asked and met Natalie down at a table she’d cleared off. Looking around the tavern, Cole noticed Barnabas was gone, and Wilhelm was eyeing the pair of them with a level of guarded concern. Cole nodded to Wilhelm, and the normally jovial man barely jerked his head in response. Wincing internally, Cole turned back to the problem at hand.

The large map Barnabas had sold Cole was soon spread out on the table, kept flat by some repurposed mugs. Natalie had gotten a pencil and marked out a spot on the map already. As she finished, Natalie gestured for Cole to look. She’d marked a point not far from Glockmire, a seemingly random spot out in the middle of a nearby forest. Farther away than the Vryko-Ghouls had been, but in roughly the same direction.

“There is some old stonework in this area. Remnants of a building, I’ve been told. Hunters avoid it at night because they’ve seen will-o-wisps there. About a year ago, one of my friends bragged her husband had explored the ruin. She said he said that the place felt wrong and swore he was being watched the entire time. Dorin is a well-respected hunter in these parts and a pretty reserved guy. He only confirmed what Gabi said and seemed uncomfortable even thinking about it. So my guess is the place is haunted and what we should be looking for.”

Natalie’s words just hung in the air for a moment, and Cole finally asked something he’d been wondering about for a while now. “How do you know all of this? It’s a very large amount of stuff, and you just seem to have it all on-demand.”

Looking away in embarrassment, Natalie answered plainly. “I’m a Barmaid in a small town. Knowing gossip and people is as much my job as serving drinks.”

Cole shook his head as if to dismiss her excuse. “No, the detail is extraordinary. It's really impressive you can keep this all straight and know it with such detail.”

That got a smile from Natalie, and she perked up a little bit. Her momentary abashedness fading. Whenever Natalie had demonstrated this knack of hers before, it had earned her derision as a gossipy hen, with too much time on her hands. People reacted like she must spend hours memorizing and pouring over the minutiae of other people's lives. When in truth, if she heard something, it just often stuck. Added to an ever-growing web of connections inside her mind. Natalie had worried Cole would have a similar reaction once he started to pick up exactly how much she knew about people. His reaction soothed her, and to Natalie's annoyance and joy, her heart slightly fluttered.

“This ruin seems like a decent place to start looking. It could be haunted, and if it's not, I won’t waste much time there. I’ll leave tomorrow to investigate.” continued Cole, slightly oblivious to the flurry of thoughts and feelings working through Natalie.

Cocking an eyebrow in surprise, Natalie started to ask about his injuries, but the words died quickly. Her initial shock at his improved condition had been buried under earlier awkwardness and her later attempts to distract them both with work. Narrowing her eyes, Natalie looked Cole up and down thrice before stepping closer and rasping the disturbing question. “How are you already healed? You seemed half dead just two hours ago, and now you seem fine?”

Glancing away from Natalie’s accusatory glare, Cole toed the line between misdirection and lies. Something that made him profoundly uncomfortable but was still necessary. Even with his growing bond with Natalie, some secrets still needed to be kept.

“There are benefits to being a servant of Master Time. I ask you not to pry into them. Those matters are… unpleasant sometimes.”

That seemed to be enough for Natalie, and she dropped the question and replaced it with another. “You said ‘you’ will investigate. Am I not accompanying you?”

Cole was almost glad to have her turn to something equally accusatory but easier to manage.

“I’m not trying to lock you out, Natalie. That path failed and is now impossible. While I thought I could protect you from the Walking Charnel, that almost went catastrophically bad. I would not have similar hopes if I were to deal with a powerful Wraith. Undead of that kind can be extremely tricky to deal with if inexperienced or unprepared people are involved.”

Digesting that, Natalie looked like she was about to argue, but she decided against it. Instead, she sighed in resignation and asked. “Please tell me what happened when you get back. I’m curious to see if Gabi and Dorin were right.”

Cole accepted Natalie’s request easily. “Of course. Now I have a few questions of my own. Like why are you dressed up, and why do I need to make a good impression?”

Flashing a toothy grin, Natalie seemed to relish her next words. “I’m fulfilling my part of our deal. I’m going to get the people of this town to agree to your help, and I intend to do that with style. We will flaunt your heroic deeds tonight and win some hearts and minds.”

Confusion at her words started to fade, instead replaced by worry as Cole began to understand exactly what Natalie had in mind. She wanted the heavily scarred and socially-obtuse vagabond warrior to play the social game of Glockmire. At best, Cole could be a polite stonewall, evading all questions thrown his way. At worst, he could be honest and actually answer with utterly terrifying detail. Natalie had proven herself to be far more clever and open-minded than what you’d expect in a town like Glockmire. And Cole had managed to alienate or disturb her on multiple occasions.

Natalie could visibly see the dawning horror in Cole’s face. His already pale skin had seemed to lose another shade or two, rendering him alabaster white. While his eyes had widened in disbelief. Natalie didn’t let Cole stew in his worry and elaborated on her plan.

“I can guess what you are thinking. Yes, social morays and polite conversation are not your strong suit. Which is why you will have me to help you tonight. I’ll be at your side to interpret, aid, and explain away any missteps.”

Looking into Cole’s eyes, Natalie let a bit of her bravado drop and spoke plainly with the type of sincerity only used when asking for trust. “I know these people, Cole, and I know how to make them like you. I trusted you when we went into a monster's lair. So trust me when we’re on my home territory.”

Those words broke through Cole's worry, and he shut his eyes. Letting out a deep breath, he understood the truth of Natalie’s argument and agreed. “Alright, I will put my trust in you, Nat.”

After agreeing to Natalie’s plans and sitting through an hour of her laying out the basics to not shocking the good people of Glockmire, Cole left the Silly Goat to resupply. While Trude had “graciously” offered to replace his cloak, Cole had other things he needed to gather before another hunt. Forcing him to wander the market section of Glockmire. Natalie had to prepare for the evening and attend to her own chores, so Cole found himself alone in an increasingly hostile town.

Initially, Cole had intended to just visit Barnabas’s shop and get what he needed there. But Natalie had insisted he should visit some of the other stores to see the variety and, more importantly, earn a reputation as a paying customer. Despite Coles's initial skepticism, he had some successes visiting the few other stores in town. Glockmire had an abnormally large number of merchants for a town of its size. A natural side-effect of the town's location in the middle of a minor but still important trade route.

So Cole had managed to gather much of what he needed and, in the process, perhaps earn a smidgeon of good will in the process. He managed to restock his Salt from a merchant who specialized in selling the pelts and meat the town’s Hunters provided. While the apothecary had sold him some incense and a few basic ingredients for what Cole hoped wasn’t too steep of a markup.

Despite receiving near-universal worried or even hostile looks from everyone he passed on the street, no one tried anything untoward. Something that helped Cole relax a little. He’d seriously been worrying that an angry mob might form under the right circumstances. Which, unfortunately, Cole had more than a little bit of experience with.

With his shopping done, Cole started to make his way back to the Silly Goat. Despite having little experience of the town, Cole had little fear of getting lost. Years of wandering strange lands with nothing but a cold tug on his heart to guide him had cultivated a good sense of direction in Cole.

His progress was stopped when an unfamiliar man stepped out from an alleyway in front of Cole. Large and barrel-chested, the man had well-calloused hands, and the worn look of someone used to hard labor. Both men eyed each other over, and Cole resisted the urge to reach for his axe. While there was nothing truly sinister about the stranger, he had an intensity to his expression that pricked Cole’s instincts. After that moment of mutual assessment, the stranger spoke in a deep, slightly scratchy voice.

“Are you the one my son went to? The rest-bringer?”

Ah. With that piece of information, things fell into place. This was Matko, the father of Filip, the boy who asked Cole to destroy the Walking Charnel. Cole didn’t un-tense. This could still go poorly. Choosing his words carefully, he responded.

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“Yes, I am the servant of Master Time. I take it you are Matko?”

Matko nodded his head in a terse sign of confirmation and spoke haltingly. “When he told me what he’d done, I was pissed. Giving his coins to a stranger promising the impossible was stupid. I thought we’d raised the boy better.”

Exhaling sharply, Matko continued. “But then he comes to me today, just as my shift ends, and drags me to the Temple. Where old Matthias shows me that skull.”

Taking a step toward Cole, Matko pointed at the larger man with an almost accusatory air. “You really did it, didn't you? You killed that monster. You got revenge for my baby girl.”

“Yes, I destroyed the Undead; it will not hurt anyone ever again,” replied Cole, his tone solemn but calm.

Something seemed to break inside Matko. A dam of grief and loss burst at those words. Matko fell to his knees and started to weep. Making great racking sobs that shook the sturdy-looking man’s entire being.

Stepping up to the man, Cole knelt down and placed a hand on Matko’s shoulder. Cole didn’t say anything and just provided the instinctual comfort of a kind touch. So the two sat like that for a time. As Matko let his grief finish its course.

After perhaps five minutes, Matko started to recover a little and let out sputtering apologies to Cole. Cole didn’t let the grieving father finish them, cutting off the shaky words with his own solid response.

“You have nothing to apologize for nor be ashamed of. Nothing in this world hurts more than a parent losing their child. Your pain is real, and I just hope you can find solace in my actions and that of your son.”

Those words restarted Matko’s sobs. As he waited for the worst of this storm to pass, Cole looked around them. They had the street to themselves; no one but Cole was there to witness Matko’s pain. That seemed a good thing to Cole. He detested that humiliation and shame were emotions people associated with grief. Yet he could not change the nature of people or their culture. Just help where he could. So Matko wept in peace, taking his time to let the pain run its course and pull himself back together at his own accord.

After a time, Matko got to his feet unsteadily, Cole helping him stand. Eyes red from crying, Matko looked around nervously and rasped: “Thank you, Rest-Bringer.”

“Of course,” answered Cole. “Now go be with your family. They will probably be feeling similar to you.”

Matko nodded shakily to that and spoke. “One last thing, Filip mentioned what the Daymen said, right? About how they blamed us for not evacuating. Do…do you think they were right?”

That got a moment of hesitation from Cole. He was torn on exactly how much to reveal to this man. He refused to let the poor father blame himself for his daughter's death any longer. But too much information could have unforeseen consequences. Deciding quickly, Cole answered.

“If I had been in the place of you or your daughter, I would have made the same decision. What happened was a product of extraordinary ill fortune. While I cannot say for certain, I think it's likely that the choice to stay in your home didn’t doom your daughter, but instead saved the rest of your family.”

Matko set his face in a look of grim determination. Nodding to Cole’s words, he whispered out a few final words of thanks and left Cole. Alone in the alley, Cole found himself looking up at the sky, seeing its pale blue between the buildings surrounding them. The Sun was getting low in the sky, and the shadows were lengthening. It was time to return to the Silly Goat and face his new challenge.

By the time Cole arrived back in the Tavern, many local customers had arrived. It wasn’t time for dinner or even proper drinking hours, but that didn’t mean a handful of townsfolk didn’t jump to those events early. His entrance didn’t fully kill the pockets of conversation in the inn, but they certainly became slightly muted. Cole considered that a good sign, all things considered.

After depositing his purchases in his room, Cole returned downstairs and tried to fit in. He sat in an unoccupied part of the inn and started playing with his medallion. The worn metal hourglass hung from his neck and provided an easy distraction. It didn’t take long for Natalie to approach. Cole looked up from his musings to see the striking young woman wearing a particularly annoyed expression. Glancing around, Cole realized he was the source of her annoyance. Confused, he gave her a questioning look.

Sighing audibly, Natalie rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. “Cole, do you even realize what you are doing?”

Further mystified, Cole answered honestly. “No?”

Natalie looked up to see the bewildered look on Cole’s face. That got her annoyance to soften into amusement. Slowly, with the air of someone repeating themselves, Natalie asked. “My first piece of advice to you was suggesting you sit close to others and listen to them for a bit before trying to join the conversation. Is that what you think you are doing?”

Further perplexed, Cole looked around the inn and answered. “Yes, what’s wrong?” From his perspective, he was following that advice perfectly. He’d found an unoccupied spot and was waiting for an opportunity to join a conversation.

Snorting in exasperation, Natalie gestured around them and answered. “Cole, you literally found a dark corner of the room, sat down, and started brooding. You’d only be more subtly menacing if you played with a knife and muttering words in Sinner-Speech.”

Blinking in surprise, Cole was forced to reassess his actions. At her words, he could certainly see how he could give that impression. Failing to find any words, Cole simply answered, “Ah.”

Rubbing the lower half of his face with a large palm, Cole deflated slightly and asked. “I know I am poor at situations like this, but I’d not realized how large my deficits are. Perhaps this idea of yours is not feasible, Natalie?”

In answer, Natalie grabbed Cole’s free hand and hauled him out of his chair. Confused, Cole let himself be dragged over to the table just one over from where a quartet of tradesmen sat and drank. Plopping the much larger man down into a chair. Natalie gave Cole a gesture to wait. Leaving him for a moment to retrieve a mug of Beer, which she placed in front of the slightly confused man.

Natalie gestured at the mug and explained. “Even if you don’t drink, being in a tavern without a cup of something is a strange look. So now try again.”

Leaving him to his fate, Natalie went back to work. Cole looked down at his drink and shrugged to himself before taking a sip. This was perhaps the third or fourth time Cole had tried alcohol. Just like every previous time, it tasted foul to him. His over-sensative palate reacted poorly to what he supposed was well-brewed hops. Grimacing, Cole let out a disgusted hiss but swallowed down the Beer.

Sitting the mug down, Cole shoved the drink away from him and slumped in his chair slightly. An annoyed grunt from the table next to Cole caught his attention. The four tradesmen looked at Cole, each wearing a mildly hostile expression. One of them, a large fellow with a protruding belly and arms thick with muscle, gestured to Cole’s drink and asked.

“What’s the matter, Stranger? Is our Beer not good enough for someone on a divine mission?”

Before Cole could respond, another one spoke a younger man with a wispy youthful mustache and a long face. “It's bad enough you come to our town and cause trouble with the Lord. But you insult Master Wilhelms draft and try to seduce his daughter? You’d think a Holy man would have some shame?”

Stunned, Cole felt utterly bewildered. He’d literally sat down and tried to drink a beer and somehow offended these men. This had to be a new record for Cole when it came to alienating people. Frantically searching for an appropriate response, Cole was saved by Natalie. The well-dressed bar-maid whirled over to the two tables in a storm of flowing skirts. Looking at the Tradesmen with an imperious look, Natalie answered for Cole.

“He didn’t seduce me, Bogdan, but if he tried, he’d certainly have better results than you did.” the younger-looking man with the bad beard started to sputter something, but Natalie didn’t give him a chance. Remarking to the older, wider fellow, “And Sandu, it's rude to judge a man on what he drinks. I thought your wife had you better trained than that.”

Instead of looking incensed like Bogdan, Sandu cracked a wide grin and chuckled before speaking. “Well put, Miss Natalie, but I don’t think such a large feller like this Rest-Bringer needs you to protect him.”

Natalie nodded in agreement but let her razor tongue out to play. “True, but considering he saved me from an Undead monster just a day ago, I feel it's the least I can do.”

That got both men to shut up but invited a third to speak. Bespectacled and with stringy hair, Teo, the carpenter, spoke with a soft, almost nervous voice. “What kind of monster?”

To Cole’s confusion, that question made Natalie smile with victory. She looked at him and asked. “Cole as the expert, could you describe that terrible horror you fought and destroyed single-handedly?”

Trusting Natalie, Cole did as requested. “It was a Walking Charnel. An unliving pile of bones about the size of a large Hay Pile. It was one of the Undead that attacked your town three years ago. I tracked it to its lair with Natalie’s help and destroyed it.”

Stunned silence ruled for a few seconds before Sandu looked at Natalie and asked. “He speaks true?”

She nodded but rolled her eyes. “Cole does, but he also undersells it. It was a massive pile of thrashing bones. Just a hill of jumbled skeletons that scuttled about on dozens of unnatural limbs. Large enough to crush a house and strong enough to crush rock. But Cole destroyed it, set the accursed thing on fire, and hacked it apart with his blade.”

Feeling slightly abashed, Cole scratched at his few remaining scabs and muttered. “It wasn’t that big, but yes, it was rather dangerous.”

All four of the Tradesmen were now looking at Cole with a mixture of interest and fear. While a couple other lone drinkers were clearly listening to the conversation from a distance. Internally Natalie was beaming. So far, so good, now she just needed someone to take the bait-

“What’s the biggest Undead you’ve killed, Rest-Bringer?” asked a slightly inebriated man at the Bar.

Natalie had to force herself not to smirk. The gamble she’d made was starting to pay off. Cole’s habit of talking about horrible things related to Death and Undeath could easily disturb and scare off people. But if they were used correctly, those same eerie stories could intrigue people. The people of Glockmire were a superstitious and fearful lot, but many of them also suffered from a near-universal vice. Morbid curiosity, which was something Cole could feed easily. And with Natalie there to steer him in the right direction, Cole’s stories might inspire more awe and hope than fear and disgust.

Cole looked to Natalie for a sign, which she gleefully gave. “Yeah, I’m curious as well. What is the physically largest Undead you’ve hunted?”

Looking around at his eager, if nervous audience, Cole answered. “A Jotun Ghoul.”

Mystified, Teo asked for clarification. “An undead Giant? You killed a Giant?”

“Well, put to rest; it was already dead. But yes, I managed to free a Jotun from its corpse,” answered Cole.

That answer even surprised Natalie. Giants were rare and incredibly dangerous. Even a Feral one, like the type they occasionally heard of in the Dragontail Mountains, could destroy entire villages with ease. An Undead one would be even more dangerous, and Cole had destroyed it.

“Well, you can’t just leave us with that. How did you kill it?” asked Sandu. By the looks of the patrons clustered around them, it was the question they’d all been wondering.

Bemused and uncertain of what to do, Cole made up his mind when he saw the intense curiosity on Natalie’s face. He’d tell his story; the details were not anything particularly sensitive.

“I don’t know how the Jotun became a Ghoul, only that it was terrorizing villages in eastern Guyenne when I encountered it. While incredibly large, it was thankfully only a normal Ghoul. Meaning aside from its size and strength, it was not particularly dangerous.”

That got some confused and even worried mutters from his audience. Even a scrawny Jotun stood as tall as an old Oak while being strong enough to uproot smaller trees easily. The idea of a Giant being “not particularly dangerous” made as much sense to the people of Glockmire as the concept of a trustworthy demon.

Not noticing their reaction, Cole continued. “Like all Ghouls, it was guided only by hunger and lacked anything resembling intelligence. So it was easy to turn all that size into a disadvantage. I knew the Ghoul was heading towards me, but I had two days to prepare. With some convincing, I got the locals to aid me with some of the work. We dug pits, set up cavalry spikes, and turned an entire field into a trap.”

Teo frowned and scrunched up his face in confusion. “Wait, how did you know you had time to do all of that? The jagging Giant could have shown up at any time and eaten you all!”

The words of the Tradesmen made Cole grimace slightly. It illustrated the learned helplessness and isolation of this region. In the Blood Duchies, all you could do was hide from monsters and hope your masters got bored and decided to hunt larger prey. That was not the situation even in remote places in neighboring nations.

“The roads and wilds of Guyenne are patrolled by Outriders who watch for banditry and the like. Those brave horsemasters worked night and day to keep the Ghoul distracted and away from villages. It was a testament to their skill that so few people had been killed by the Ghoul by the time I arrived, but two weeks of constant duty was wearing hard on them. More than one rider and their mount died to the Jotun. They’d been working to keep it distracted until the local Lord, and his soldiers could arrive, but that would take nearly a month. So when I offered a different plan, they agreed to help.”

Accepting that answer, Teo nodded in understanding and let Cole continue. “When the Jotun got close the Outriders and villagers escaped. Leaving me to guide Ghoul to the traps. Thankfully it was happy to chase me instead of the Outriders, and right into our first traps. We’d set up a number of large pits, with cavalry spikes in the near vicinity. We’d been forced to guess but the pits were deep enough and when the Jotun stepped into one it tripped, falling on some of the spikes. This wasn’t enough to kill the Jotun but was enough to cripple it. Falling with all that weight ruined one of its legs, and the wooden spikes got stuck in its torso.”

That got a collective wince from the eager listeners. The image Cole described was not pretty, but it was exactly the sort of thing they’d come to here about. So despite Natalie’s momentary worry, they did not shy away. Instead listening intently.

“With the damage it suffered, the Jotun couldn’t stand up, but it could still attack me. It crawled along the ground, attempting to squash or eat me. But that was much more manageable, it couldn’t turn quickly, and I could dodge its strikes. Eventually, I managed to get onto the Ghoul's back and chop through its spine. It couldn’t do anything then, letting me release the Soul and burn the body.”

With his story finished, Cole expected looks of horror and shock. Which he indeed got, but they were also accompanied by awe and fascination. Something he’d not expected. Blinking away his confusion, Cole looked around at the now rapt audience that had grown with the new customers who entered the Inn. After a few moments of silence, someone asked: “Well, tell us another one, Rest-Bringer!”

Startled by that, Cole tried to think of something, but Natalie came over and whisked him away to some privacy. Saying: “I’ll return him to you in a moment” as she grabbed him.

Close together and away from the murmuring patrons, Natalie’s face split in a huge grin. Looking up at Cole she half-laughed, half-spoke. “It's working! Keep this up and we’ll have more leads!”

Looking around, a slightly nervous Cole responded. “I am not used to this. Are you sure this is a good idea?”

Putting a hand on Cole’s arm, Natalie looked into his eyes and let her mirth fade into seriousness. “Trust me, this is going well. But if things start going poorly I’ll be there to help.”

Exhaling in resignation, Cole nodded in acceptance and went back to the eager audience. True to her word Natalie helped Cole, steering him away from tricky topics and subtly pushing the crowd of listeners in different directions. All while learning bits and pieces of Cole’s past. For his part Cole regaled the tavern-goers with stories of Necromancers, Rattlers, Ghosts, and terrible Curses of Undeath. While he’d never considered himself a storyteller, Cole was surprised at how easily talking to these people was. With a little help, he could speak about his life and experiences and not fear hurting people with dark tales or dangerous secrets.

This went on for hours, with Cole taking breaks but always being dragged back to the center of attention when Natalie found it prudent. Despite his initial enjoyment, the efforts of playing this social game for an extended time started to wear on Cole. He suppressed uncharacteristic irritation and felt a type of exhaustion he’d never felt before. An ache in his mind, not his body. Idly, Cole wondered if his more drastic measures for dealing with physical damage would work in this case. He didn’t get to dwell on that morbid line of thought as Natalie pulled him away from the pub-goers and whispered in his ear.

“So far, this has gone well, but I can tell you are getting worn out. Let's quit while we’re ahead. Get some rest, Cole.”

Giving her a thankful smile, Cole stepped away from the chattering patrons and slipped upstairs. Returning to his room, Cole collapsed into his bed and let out an exhausted sigh. Now alone in his room, Cole contemplated what had occurred and what it might mean. The whole thing felt surreal to Cole. He’d spent so much of his life isolated that this experience was fascinating and utterly draining. Natalie had kept her promise and helped him through what could have easily turned into a mess.

Natalie’s scheme to gain support in the town initially seemed rather ridiculous, but now it actually seemed feasible. While Natalie herself seemed less and less like a liability and more like a useful ally. In less pragmatic terms, Cole’s relationship with the woman was changing. Leaving him puzzled and uncertain. Lying in bed, Cole felt his mind drifting back to Natalie and her smile. Each time those memories came up unbidden Cole felt a strange lurching feeling in his chest. While not unpleasant, these feelings dredged up old worries and new guilt for Cole. Things had not ended well for the last Woman he’d loved. Isabelle’s shadow still stretched over Cole’s life.

These difficult musings started to blur as exhaustion took Cole and he slipped into slumber. Sleep, however didn’t end this strife, instead only transformed it. Strange dreams came to Cole. Dreams of blood, pain, and terrible nights spent locked away and fed upon. Where a hundred hungry leeches with red eyes and alabaster fangs supped on his lifeblood. Fire devouring those he loved, leaving only ashen bones and echoing screams. The same nightmares repeated over and over. Slightly changed each time, but all variations on the same theme. Painful memories distorted into surreal prisons for Cole’s unconscious mind.

Eventually, Cole awoke, escaping from his nightmares. Bolting upright, Cole thrashed about, sucking in ragged breaths as he tried to decipher where he was. Looking around, Cole started to calm down as the wooden furnishings of the Silly Goat came into view. It was late in the night, with only a pale moon to illuminate his room. Unsteadily getting to his feet Cole went over to his pack and removed the Vampire Skull hidden within.

Returning to the bed, Cole cradled the morbid totem in his arms and felt himself relax. Years ago, he’d learned holding the skull helped with the nightmares. Dreams like the ones he’d just experienced had once been common for him. Near-nightly occurrences that had driven him to insomnia once. Now the night-terrors were thankfully rare, only happening rarely and usually ending after a single night. Cole hoped such would be the case this time as well.

Panic faded, and soon Cole found himself drifting off to sleep. Where he dreamed of something instead of death and pain. He dreamed of a lake of blood, a perfectly still pool of crimson that he stood atop. His feet did not sink into the ichor, instead barely causing ripples in the red lake. Looking up, Cole saw a pale moon overhead and a whirling expanse of cold stars. This was another familiar dream, but one far more welcome than his earlier terrors. Partially because it wasn’t truly his dream.

Looking across the expanse of blood, Cole quickly found the dreamer. Maybe a dozen meters away stood a woman staring up at the sky. Tall and clad in a white dress speckled with red. She faced away from Cole, but he would recognize her from anywhere. Isabelle, or what was left of her, came to Cole in his sleep. Smiling sadly, Cole moved towards her. His steps were slow and unsteady, guiding him closer to the unmoving figure. Despite standing atop the bloody lake, Cole felt like he was wading through a marsh, his limbs weak and sluggish. Moving him towards Isabelle but not fast enough.

After what felt like a moment and a marathon, Cole reached Isabelle. Reaching out a shaky hand Cole touched her shoulder. Feeling the cold softness of her skin.

“Belle?” asked Cole as he turned the figure towards him. She didn’t resist; now facing Cole, he could see her face. Skin and hair as pale as snow, with bright red eyes. Belle looked much as she always had. With sharp aristocratic features that were perhaps a bit too angular, and long neatly braided hair tucked into a utilitarian bun. Their eyes met, and Belle’s glassy stare faded, focusing on Cole. Her blank expression quickly turned into a sad smile as she realized who was with her.

Reaching up, she touched Cole’s hand on her shoulder and spoke softly. Her thick Atredian accent reminding Cole of a forgotten home. “I’m still here, Cole. Please don’t leave me, my love.”

As soon as those words left her mouth, Belle melted. Her body dissolved into black blood that mixed with the crimson expanse surrounding them. Cole stood there, savoring the phantom touch of her hand on his. This wasn’t the first time he’d had this dream. It was what had started him on the path of a Paladin after all. Her words sometimes changed, but the meaning never did. Isabelle was not completely gone. A thread of hope still existed, and no matter how he tried, Cole couldn’t let go of it.

Then, the dream started to fade, dissipating into whatever Aether-touched thoughts formed it. Leaving Cole alone in the dark for a few moments before he finally awoke. Cool autumn sunlight illuminated his room in the Silly Goat, and the quiet murmurs of Glockmire’s morning helped pull him to full consciousness. Blinking away sleep, Cole started to sit up but stopped as a sharp pain jabbed him. Looking down in bewilderment, he saw the skull of Isabelle resting in his hand, its fangs sunk into his wrist. Gingerly removing the skull, Cole looked at it. He hadn’t remembered feeding her last night, but it wasn't impossible considering how tired he’d been and the dreams.

A decade of fighting the Undead and dealing with every manner of hungry corpse and restless spirit had hammered some intense instincts into Cole. Instincts that told him to drop the skull into a fire pit and then scatter salt over the resulting ashes before burying them on hallowed ground. He’d always fed Isabelle intentionally before, and something told him whatever had happened last night was not a good sign. Cole shoved down those instincts and instead went to clean the skull and prepare for the day. Looking down at the skull, Cole took a deep, shuddering breath and spat out the painful truth he knew in his heart.

“You’re a jagging hypocrite Cole.”

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