The two didn’t need a half hour to
fetch their horses, the village was small enough the traversal to the stable
and then back to the south rode would have been covered in about ten minutes,
but the two of them needed time to breath and shake off the foul sensation the
men of the Supremacy had left on their person. They both stood in a secluded
lot behind the Tavern, Annice constantly fidgeting with her hands and shuddering
in revulsion while Wilhelm scowled and balled his fists in a constant effort
not to punch a wall.
“That man is awful!” Annice stated,
hugging herself as if suddenly cold.
“That is an understatement, Annie.”
Wilhelm retorted, he looked about to take a swing at the wooden post that held
the clothes line the tavern used for it’s laundry service, he paused and took a
breath to calm himself instead.
“I… I don’t know if I can stand any
more time with them. They speak of their methods as peaceful, of the
tranquility that will come when they’ve enacted their will.” Annice’s voice
hitched, she was barely containing her anger. “They stare at me, a servant of peace,
as if their entire ideology isn’t inherently violent. It’s offensive!”
Annice turned and swung her fist,
crashing it into the back door of the tavern. A flash of holy light left a seared
mark of her fist in the wood, which rattled in it’s frame. A stout balding man,
one of Fozzie’s employees, pushed the door open peering with narrowed eyes at Annice
as she shook her wrist painfully, biting her lip. Wilhelm approached the man
and assured him everything was alright, that they were family to Fozzie. The
balding man gave Annice the stink eye and told the both of them to keep it down
and receded back into the tavern.
“Ow.” Annice said as the man disappeared.
She rubbed her knuckles, they stung and the skin behind her middle finger had split.
Wilhelm took the hand and inspected it.
“Well, ya did more damage to the
door than yer fist, so be proud of that.” He said, patting the back of her
palm. “I know it’s hard, Annie, but-“ Wilhelm started, but Annice pulled her
hand free and spun away from the man.
“No you don’t, Wilhelm!” She stated,
the anger now again rising in her voice. “I am a Cleric to the Goddess Syrene,
the Goddess of peace!” Her brow was set deep and there were tears in her eyes
as she faced the gladiator again. “And they take her will, her way, and twist
it to suit themselves. I see their strategy for what it is!” She paused to
swallow hard and keep herself from shouting. “They waltz in pretending to be
peaceful, only wishing to have their hateful words spoken aloud.” She scowled,
her lips twisting into a sickened frown. “So that if anyone were to raise an
arm against them they could claim to be the victims of violence, and not it’s
perpetrators. They defame Syrene… They fefame the very nature of peace!” She
let out heavy breaths, the tears were falling now and streaking down a reddened
face. She sniffled, and turned away from Wilhelm, wiping her face on the
sleeves of her robes.
Wilhelm stood there, unable to say
anything. She was right, and there was nothing Wilhelm could possibly say to
make her feel any better about it. He was asking her to share words, bread, and
revelry with those who weren’t just the antithesis of her beliefs, but ones who
used her beliefs as a shroud. He approached her, cautiously, and reached out.
He held his hand out in hesitation for a long moment before placing it on her
shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. Annice turned suddenly, closing the
distance between them and wrapping her arms around the man’s waist. She started
to softly sob into his chest. Wilhelm could feel his own tears start to well in
his eyes and his heart break at the sobs of someone he had learned to call
friend.
“I know I was sheltered, I always
knew that the world outside the walls of the temple were different… But I could
never conceive the world being so ugly.” Annice’s voice cracked as she sobbed
out her words, Wilhelm listened quietly and simply rubbed her back soothingly.
A minute later, Annice’s sobs subsided.
“You ain’t wrong, Annice.” The man
finally said. “The world can be a real shit house. People are cruel vicious
monsters worse than any ogre in the realm…” He paused, and Annice was not
exactly uplifted by his words. “But it’s also majestic, and beautiful, and full
of people willin to give their blood and soul to make a strangers day just a
little bit better. Kindness, Annie, kindness is precious few creatures born by
the Gods’ will… And there are those out there gotta protect those few.” He
looked down at her. “Fact that you’re so sickened by these folk, stead of just shrugging
your shoulder and movin on, means you’re one who got what it takes to be that
protector.”
Protect Him
The words rang in her ears, the
command by her goddess, at least that’s what she thought it was. She felt a renewed
strength in herself, pulling free of Wilhelm to stand on her own. She let out a
few shaky breaths, trying to calm herself out of her distressed state. It took
a few moments but eventually she felt her body relax and a deep calm wash over
her. She nodded, wiped her face one last time, and smiled wryfully.
“You’re terrible at speeches,
Wilhelm.” She said, letting out a small chuckle. The man laughed in response.
“I’m much better at riling up a
crowd, yeah.” He turned and spotted the sun in the air. “Alright we should get goin,
don’t want to keep these monsters waitin, yeah?”
The two fetched their horses and
made their way to the south road. Annice had splashed her face with water from
a wineskin to hide the fact that she was crying and cast a small healing spell
to close the wounds on her knuckles. When they arrived at the edge of town,
Rikkard and his men were already there. Annice saw that Rikkard brandished a
crossbow in both hands and what looked a rapier with a very ornate knuckle
guard and crossguard at his waist, which did not concern her too much, what did
was the four bodyguards that flanked him all carrying less ornate but very well
managed broadswords on their backs.
“Expectin the boars to ambush us in
numbers?” Wilhelm asked as they approached, clearly noting the same thing Annice
did.
“Can never be too careful now!”
Rikkard said, smiling broadly. “Can never know what kind of cut throats you’ll
find in the forrest, yes?” He hefted his crossbow into view. “A beauty, isn’t
it?” He said, regarding the weapon. “Been in my family for seven generations.”
“Very nice.” Wilhelm reached back into
his saddle bag and retrieved his crossbow, it was quite a bit larger than
Rikkard’s, and the man was obviously annoyed by that fact. “Won this at a
Tournement in Duskhall, said to be the finest craft of the Tinker Gnomes of the
Dusk Planes.” Wilhelm regarded his own crossbow a moment, adjusting the sights.
“Well…” Rikkard said, quirking a
brow at the weapon. “Can’t really compare the craft of a Gnome to a Human.” He
said, that broad grin appearing on his face again. “But we’ll see what weapon
brings down the boar!” He ushered his horse forward and the party moved into
the forest. Annice wondered if blessing Wilhelm’s Crossbow would be a bad idea.
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