“T: Reports from the frontiers are grim. Mass sightings of monster activity and likely hundreds if not thousands dead in far flung regions. Too far for anyone to do anything.

  K: What about the adventurers guild or pathfinders? Hells, even mercs?

  V: What about them? The guilds are swamped with postings and rediscovery of Myndiri ruins across the continent have… exacerbated existing manpower issues. The wars across the continent have drawn in mercenaries of all stripes, knight orders too.

  T: So there’s nothing to be done beyond whatever we are currently doing?

  V: Sounds about right. It’s just the way things are.

  M: Gentlemen, if you don’t mind. I have a suggestion to help… alleviate our current worries, if only by a little. You see, it involves all the pilgrims that flock to saintsrest…”

  - Archive Document, Desk Of Oraetor Vitellus, “Meeting 0-3496-H Minutes Classified”

  “Gah! Fuck!” Sophie yelped and jumped backwards in alarm.

  Her eyes were now covered in water and she hacked out a small lungful of the stuff as she coughed out in shock and surprise. It didn’t help that alongside her now freezing body, her ears were also ringing loudly, adding to the sensory overload.

  “What the hells?” She spluttered.

  Wiping the water from her eyes, she gingerly opened them.

  Instead of a town or soldiers, she instead saw trees and hedges. Wandering downwards, her eyes found grass and the source of her current irritation, a river. Confused, she looked around her and found the orc warrior currently refilling a now empty bucket. The weapon of attack.

  “Huh?” She murmured, before quickly trying to stand up.

  She wobbled for a bit and almost fell before catching her footing. The cool night breeze only chilled her even more and she stared accusatorially at the orc.

  “The hells happened? Where are we? What are you doing? Did you throw water on me? Where are the others? The town?” She fired off her questions.

  The orc frowned and simply scrubbed something in the bucket. He then let out a soft grunt before tiredly meeting her gaze.

  “One question at a time. So you remember nothing?” He asked.

  “Remember…? Huh?”

  “Ah, I see. How vexing.” He groaned and rubbed his scalp in frustration.

  He then pointed towards a still wet tunic and threw it over to her.

  “Your shirt.” He grunted.

  Sophie stared down at it in shock before recoiling.

  “What the hells did you do?!” She demanded indignantly.

  He sighed deeply and snorted.

  “You were rambling while I carried you out of town. Then you passed out. Then you awoke to ramble some more. Then you threw up over me and your own attire. Then you passed out again. Now you are awake because I can wait for you no longer.”

  She tried to process each of his statements, only staring at him in befuddlement while she was thinking. After realizing the greater message of the whole reply did she let out a small disbelieving gasp.

  “What?” Became the only words she could utter.

  He nodded, apparently satisfied that she had at least processed the information.

  “We did meet up with our comrades, but your… condition was such that we attracted too much attention and could not fully rendezvous. As such, I informed them that we can meet at the village of Haut-en-Fleur since I know the way.” He continued.

  “Haut-in-fleur?” She aimlessly repeated.

  “Haut-en-fleur.” The orc corrected her, his gratian accent surprisingly accurate, “Apparently some local humor. It means high on flowers or something of that nature. Not that it matters.”

  “Eh? Why’s that?”

  “The village is our rendezvous. It no longer exists, nor do its people. Or the flowers.”

  “Oh.”

  That was a depressing fact to note. Though the almost uncaring tone of his voice irked her.

  “So… what about the others?” She tried to change the topic.

  “They will meet us there. I managed to inform them of your predicament and told them that despite it all, you have done your task of occupying the gratian’s attention most admirably.”

  “Pfft. More like get humiliated. Fucking hells.” She groaned, then she frowned, “Wait, wait. Wasn’t I passed out? Why couldn’t you just, I don’t know, pass me along?” She broached a more appropriate question.

  He shook his head.

  “Just before meeting by the gates, you had slipped out of my arms. It took me a good few minutes to track you down.”

  “Wha-?” Sophie gawked, aghast at the new information.

  “I did not want to cause you undue distress after your recovery. Hence I did not mention this fact.” He preempted her likely next question.

  “That’s stupid.” She pouted.

  “I apologize.”

  "So what actually happened?"

  "You awoke with some semblance of consciousness. Uncertain of where you were, you wriggled out of my arms and dashed into an alley that I could not fit into." He stated emotionlessly.

  Sophie could now feel it in full. The aftermath of her drinking. Now that the mind fog was clearing, everything ached and hurt. Given the assurances of safety for her current situation, her body now had time to complain and scream as any adrenaline now faded away.

  “Stars above.” She whined, “How much did I drink?”

  The orc stared thoughtfully at her for a moment.

  “At least six mugs and some juices. Mostly peach, grape, and oranges.” He answered honestly.

  “Six?! And more?! How am I alive?” She exclaimed before having a startling realization about the relaxed state of her bladder.

  “You also did wet yourself, yes.” The orc read her mind.

  Sophie could only gawk.

  “Worry not. You have been washed in the river. Unfortunately, we do not have time to dry ourselves off. You may thank the church for teaching me rudimentary cleansing magicks. Nothing should stain or smell.”

  “That’s…”

  Embarrassed and ashamed, she simply let the conversation die. Not only had she made a fool of herself in front of the gratians and had lost a duel to boot. She had also completely shamed herself in front of her comrades. Her sense of self confidence would require more time than she expected to repair itself.

  Resolving herself to mull on this matter more later, she turned towards the orc to ask one last question.

  “What now?”

  He grumbled to himself before speaking, “As I said before. We now go to meet the others. Are you fully conscious?”

  “Ugh. Aside from this bloody headache? Yeah.” She answered.

  “Good. Then let us make haste.”

  The orc barely made a noise as he lifted himself up from a crouch. Sophie moved to do the same and staggered from the soreness. The orc sighed dejectedly and lowered himself.

  “We do not have time to waste. Climb on. I shall carry you until you are able.”

  Reluctantly, she accepted his help and clambered onto his back. Treated like nothing more than an overly heavy travel pack, he stood up and started walking. Shield strapped to one arm, weapon in the other. Sophie noticed how the bucket was left behind, but said nothing. Stars above, I barely remember anything. Did I really drink that much?

  It was also only now that Sophie had room to process the flicker of doubt that crept across her mind. Here she was, her life in the hands of an orc. It made her uneasy given her experiences with them, even more so taking into account Sophia’s suffering. Only his supposed allegiance to Mila kept the anxiety from gnawing away too much. With the eerie chripping of crickets in the distance, she calmed herself and settled down. Nothing to do now but wait.

  The moon now hung high above them, the streaks of pale yellow light breaking through the grey cloud covers to dance across the earth. Perhaps the most strange sight of all was what she saw once they crested a hill and became witness to that which haunted all of Gratia. In the distance, perhaps a day’s journey away, yet looking so close as if possible to place in the palm of her hand, was the wall of death.

  The moniker of the ‘purple death’ was not unfounded. For against the backdrop of the darkening skies and moonlight, the arcane wall glowed a sickly purpleish blue. It’s utterly jarring contrast to the serene landscape around it was only heightened by how alien it seemed. For the wall was more of a dome that stretched high in the sky but not all the way. A carefully crafted inhuman arcane spell.

  Sophie shuddered to think of the arcane energies that were channeled in its creation. And judging by the almost barren lands that immediately surrounded it, she suspected more than it ever should have used. What worried her the most however, was what would happen when passing through it. She still remembered the Myndiri crystal unearthed with Saclia.

  A crystal imbued with magical energies and in the process of being corrupted. Yet when the anathema that was herself touched the damned thing, the vortex of mana within it spilled outwards in a massive explosion that shook the cavern. Even back then, the results had been violent and dangerous. Only mitigated by the fact that she had been actively fighting the cult that tried to perform whatever dastardly ritual they had been trying to enact. Meaning that her assessment of damages focused squarely upon the harm it inflicted upon her enemies rather than her surroundings.

  A barrier of this magnitude on the other hand, she shuddered from the thought. Whatever feedback loop happened the Saclian crystal would be nothing more than flash in comparison should this barrier react negatively to her presence. Goddess above, that… that would be a disaster.

  “Down there. Beyond the brook.” Marduk’s guttural voice interrupted her thoughts.

  The orc motioned towards a small stream a little ways ahead of them. Around here, where green grasses once grew, there was only a strange barrenness. A similar brownish grey that Sophie noticed from the lands next to the barrier, at least as far as she could tell.

  “What happened here, exactly?” She whispered.

  The orc grunted, polarized in his deliberations of answering her. Then he grunted once more in affirmation.

  “Our battle against the undead. It went poorly. The lands we protected were ravaged. Nothing more.”

  “Huh.”

  “Something the matter?” He growled.

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  “No. Just… I get it.”

  “Hmpf.”

  Quietly, the two proceeded forward. After what felt like an agonizingly long silence where neither decided to initiate conversation, their goal was in sight.

  The closer they grew to the village of Haut-en-Fleur the more unsettled Sophie felt. This wasn’t the aftermath of a pitched battle or even some grand struggle. Merely the aftermath of a skirmish and the resulting devastation that followed.

  Dead trees, accursed soil, and even the ground itself looked slightly ajar. Almost like the world itself was revolted by the taint that afflicted it. Based on the name of the village, she guessed that where the dirt now lay fallow were once flowerbeds that would shine brightly against the grey land. Maybe like Brightfields when we first passed by it. Pretty place, huh.

  Passing one more copse of trees, the remnants of the village were now in sight. Charred husks of buildings long since fallen, the echoes of their past briefly glimpsed in between the empty shells. A busy little place, unbothered by the world around it, now nothing more than emptiness. There, between still standing timbers and the what was left of the village, a few figures and wagons stood waiting.

  Marduk raised his weapon to signal his approach, his sudden movement almost flinging Sophie off. Flustered but feeling a bubbling sense of relief at being able to reunite the others, she decided against chiding the orc for his unwarranted movement. Taking the last few minutes of being able to simply think to herself, she could feel a different anxiety coming to light.

  They had defied the Gratian army and caused a stir. No doubt the capitaine and the others have by now, reported in to their superior that the travellers were missing. She did take small delight in the look of surprise that would’ve been present when he discovered their disappearance. Still, their position within Gratia would be far more tenuous, doubly so given Mila’s own grievances against their nobility and the other inquisitors present.

  Worse still, based on the description that Arnold had given to them about Annalise’s current instability. Sophie wondered what welcome they could expect. Annalise clearly wanted to see them, that much was clear. Yet, at the same time, from what information they have gathered so far, that desire bordered on obsession if not something more. Anna was a good soul, that she knew from when they last met. But time had changed her just as it had changed the ranger. With how she and Mila had last parted, Sophie worried that the animosity would only have grown since then.

  Gah, no point worrying now. Too late to turn back. She growled to herself.

  “Marduk. Sophie.” Elaria calmly called out to them.

  “We are here.” Marduk replied for them.

  “Come on then.” Mila urged the two.

  “As you command, warmaster.”

  The orc hauled her the rest of the way and the two breathed a small sigh of relief. Their journey was done, they had rejoined with the main group and could advance as a unit once more.

  “Well, well. Sure took your time.” Arnold teased.

  “Hmm.” The orc grunted.

  “Enough of that. Get her over here.” Mila brushed the rogue aside.

  “Alright, alright.” Arnold backed away with a cheeky grin.

  Following her command, Marduk lifted Sophie off his back and placed her in the Lily Knight’s wagon like she had been nothing more than a slightly heavier bag.

  “Someone had a fun night out.” Elaria joked as she moved over to ruffle Sophie’s hair.

  Sophie groaned, “Ugh. Don’t remind it. I barely remember anything.”

  “Tsk. Just goes to show you should drink in moderation. Heh. And stars, look at the state of your hair, damned shame.”

  “Eh?”

  “What a mess. At least you don't stink up a storm.” The bard scolded, “Now scoot a little and I’ll tie your hair up. Hup, hup.”

  “Do I have to? I’m sore all over.” Sophie moaned.

  “Yes. Scoot.” Her sister forcefully commanded.

  Sophie grumbled as her sister moved her about without a care in the world.

  Besides them, Mila and the others were being debriefed by Marduk about the night’s events. Sophie could just about tell what he was talking about by the groans of the crowd around him.

  “She said what? Stars above, we’re supposed to distract them, not turn all of the kingdom into enemies. Fucking hells.” Philippe swore.

  “It’s… her way of doing things I suppose. But it works.” Mila sighed.

  “Hey, I can hear you.” Sophie interjected.

  “Yeah, and know that you did a good job keeping them occupied. We had more than enough time to get out without being seen.” Mila rolled her eyes, “But you did insult their honor, question their tactics, and even implied that they had failed their people.”

  “Ehh…”

  “They’ll definitely be pissed at us now if they weren’t already.” Philippe supported his comrade.

  “Huh. That duel must've surely been a sight to behold though. A drunk versus a night, hah!” The older templar chuckled.

  “Sure. But a disaster nonetheless.”

  “No doubt.”

  “Still, what’s done is done.” Arnold tried to change the topic, “What matters now is making sure we get to the border without anymore scuffles. And from what the orc says, it doesn’t sound like there have been any casualties so far. So we’re good on that front.”

  “Mmm, I suppose.” Philippe grunted.

  “Anything else to add?” Mila asked Marduk some more.

  “Nothing of note. She was recovered and passed out. Now we are here, warmaster.” The orc clasped his gauntlet over his chest.

  “Good work.” Mila nodded, “Sophie, what about you? Anything to add?”

  Sophie half heartedly smiled, “No. Just don’t let me drink again.”

  “Tsk. Very well. Arnold?” The inquisitor turned towards the rogue.

  “Road ahead should be clear for us to take. Doubt there’ll be anything more than scattered patrols and it doesn’t seem like any town messengers passed us yet.”

  “Very good.” Mila sighed, her gazing lingering over the town, “Let’s not spend anymore time here than we need to then.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Alright then. Five minutes, shake off any fatigue, get sorted, and then we’ll move out.” Mila declared.

  They all broke off towards their respective wagons, reforming their convoy in short order.

  Sophie soon found a little tug tightening her hair as Elaria finished tying it up. The bard looking relatively satisfied with her handiwork. Past her, Raylani only offered Sophie a brief nod of acknowledgement, the dark elf having resumed her post as wagon driver.

  “Goddess, you’re a mess and a half aren’t you, kn-elf.” Lucinia quickly corrected herself whilst insulting her.

  “A little.” Sophie reluctantly admitted.

  “At least it worked. Stars only knows why they didn’t just gut you on the spot.”

  “Who knows? Maybe it’d appear as poor form to attack someone who was wasted.”

  “It’d put down a threat though. Of which you certainly are one.”

  Sophie shot her a small glare.

  “Hey, just being honest.” Lucinia held her arms up in surrender, “Means you’re also quite useful to have around.”

  Sophie sighed and leaned against the side of the cart. Now in the presence of her allies, she felt tired, exhausted even.

  “You just return and now’s the time to take a nap?” Lucinia scoffed.

  “Mmhmm.” Sophie mumbled absently, her eyes closing on their own accord, “Wake me if something happens.”

  “If you say so.” Lucinia tutted.

  For Sophie, there was something comforting in the disdain. For this time, she was willingly drifting off on her own volition.

  A harsh jolt sent Sophie’s senses scrambling. Her dreamless sleep disturbed, she quickly awoke and immediately set about scanning her surroundings. Her vision was clouded by a dark purplish hue, the dull glow making her squint.

  All around her, everyone else seemed to be on alert. Even Lucinia at the end of the wagon was keeping herself glued to the side of it to keep herself from exposing too much. Upon noticing that Sophie was awake, Lucinia subtly motioned for her to go over.

  Groggy and confused, Sophie nonetheless moved to comply. She shuffled over, the creaking of the wagon underneath her painfully loud against the backdrop of a low hum that buzzed in her ears.

  “Lucinia? Didn't think to wake me?” She queried.

  “No point. You wouldn't do much anyways. We're close to wall. There's a patrol nearby. Arnold working on entry. Keep quiet.” Lucinia instructed brusquely.

  Dazed but not infirm, Sophie hurriedly nodded. Taking in each fact carefully, she scrambled back to her original position and made sure her sword was within easy reach.

  With her eyes slowly adjusting to the harsh purple light, she was able to get a clearer overview of the situation. They had paused some ways away from the actual wall itself. Runebound’s members bar Thulgrim managing the wagon were up by the wall chanting some strange esoteric ritual. The two inquisitors were close by and at the ready, but instead of defending the ritualists, they were warily watching over them, their hands over their own weapons ready to swing at a moments notice. The templars and the orc meanwhile sat near the back of the convoy, their posture indicating their orders to protect the rest of the group.

  Ahead of her, Elaria rested a calm hand over a crossbow, the weapon still hidden by the wagon’s walls and remained yet undrawn. She shot Sophie a cheeky wink. Sophie managing to jokingly scrunch up her own face in response to reply with a jovial expression of her own. It did little to defuse the underlying tension beyond making herself feel a little more chipper.

  Casting her gaze to the rear of the convoy, she could make out the faint traces of an approaching dust cloud kicked up from hasty riders. Guess they finally realized we were missing. Or a stray patrol. Still, I hope we won’t come to blows, we’ve annoyed them more than enough.

  “How much longer?” Came a growl from the front. Mila?

  “Almost. It needs to be pre-fucking-cise since I’d rather us not die.” Arnold snarked.

  "Yes well. Die to the wall or to the patrols. Take your pick." Yeah, that's Mila.

  "Just keep them off us." He shot back.

  The riders were now within visual range. Sophie could make out about a dozen or so warriors clad in everything from leathers up to plate. Man-at-arms and some chevaliers, damn. Then she caught a glimpse of their banners, purple-blue and with silver inlays. Well, shit.

  “It’s the stags.” Sophie informed the others.

  “Tsk. Guess you pissed them off real well. Takes an oaf like you to make even the Gratians mad.” Lucinia mocked.

  “Look, I tried my best.” Sophie protested.

  “Oi, you two. Focus up. Chat later.” Elaria snapped at them.

  Surprised at being commanded by the bard, both of them immediately focused back on the situation at hand.

  She now clutched at her blade, her hand wrapped firmly around the hilt of her blade. She waited with bated breath, aware that the ritual meant they were down more than half the party. She wasn’t worried about the templars or the orc though, they could handle themselves. She was more concerned with Lucinia’s presence in the wagon. If the gratians fired a volley at them, the traxian would be in the line of fire.

  “Arretez! Stop! Halt!” A soldier called out towards them.

  “Stop! You are violating the law! The armistice does not permit this!” Another cried out.

  The templars now readied their blades, their own training kicking in as they maneuvered themselves in between the convoy and the riders.

  “Prepare yourselves.” Marduk barked.

  A soft creak and click drew Sophie’s eyes backwards. Elaria’s crossbow was now loaded and at the ready. Hells.

  “Church riders, hold your positions!” A senior chevalier ordered.

  Huh, so not Fontaine’s band. At least, not his immediate group. Doesn’t sound like him anyways.

  “My lord.” The older templar turned towards the front.

  “Whatever it takes, just get us some time.” Philippe yelled back.

  “As you say, sir.” The templar rode back to defensive formations.

  “Men of Gratia, hold your blades. We are acting under orders of the most Holy Inquisition and the Argent Curia.” He called out to the soldiers.

  The soldiers came to a stop in front of the templars, half of them being heavily armed chevaliers. Amongst their number, one of the silver stags that sported a red sash rode ahead of the rest to parley. In response, the older templar sallied forth to meet them on neutral ground.

  “Hail, chevalier.” The templar greeted the man.

  A haughty hmpf escaped from the chevalier before he flipped his visor upwards.

  “Hail, templar.” Came the gritted response.

  “I know you seek to stop us here. But I assure you, my lord. We are here on sanctioned business.”

  “Are you now?” The chevalier smirked, “My commander, Lord Louis the Duc of Belort has informed us that you are not sanctioned by the high inquisitor of Gratia. Who we are also told, supersedes the authority of the inquisitor who operates from Mare’s Berth.”

  “That so?” The old man chuckled, “But our appointee was directed by Oraetor Vitellus of the Stellar Observatory and thus, the papal crown itself. In terms of seniority, it would be our claim that is the truer, my lord.”

  “That might be the case. But until we receive word from the most high. We must operate within our nation’s authority. Thusly, it would be the senior officer that has command until otherwise stated.”

  “Then I fear we are at an impass, honored sir. For our goal is of utmost importance and we must enter the afflicted territories.”

  “And you and your comrades can. But through the appropriate channels. Such entry without supervision might leave lasting breaches with which the undead could exploit. Surely you understand why we must protect the realm as such?”

  “Of course, sir. Naught for a moment did I ever doubt that.”

  “Good. But it occurs to me that you also have a belligerent amongst your retinue. One elf who is charged with disturbing the peace and unlawful assault against a noble chevalier. As such-”

  “Got it!” Arnold’s yell interrupted the negotiations.

  “Go! Go! Go!” Mila bellowed.

  A loud whomp could be heard as part of the purple fog dissapated. The magical enchantments keeping it in place vanishing as if it had never been there. For a brief moment, Sophie could even hear herself properly think, the buzzing noise now nothing more than a faint hiss.

  Both templars and gratians stopped to gawk at the magical display, even Sophie herself couldn’t look away.

  For the purple fog didn’t just disappear, it seperated like a knife cutting its way through butter. A path opened up, almost inviting them forward. Yet it’s end still remain clouded, a journey in to the unknown.

  Thankfully, Sophie wasn’t at the reins and Raylani needed no prompting to spur their horses onwards. Thulgrim soon followed and whilst the chevaliers scrambled to act, the templars threw themselves between the convoy and the soldiers.

  “Inform the mistress!” Philippe let out one final order as he joined the others in the advance through the fog path.

  Acting with impeccable precision, the templars then surged towards the panicked gratians. Yet, as they braced for battle, the templars simply veered away and rode around them. By the time the gratians realized what had happened, it was too late. Sophie could see the edge of the fog wall closing back up once more.

  “Single file! Follow closey and not lingering behind!” Arnold called out.

  “The templars!” Mila cried out in alarm.

  “They’ll be fine!” Philippe yelled back, “Keep moving!”

  Enveloped completely by the sea of purplish haze, Sophie now entrusted her fate to Raylani and the others. She wanted to sigh in relief, to relax a little. But she couldn’t. With the fog all around and closing in, she only hoped that what lay ahead would not be a journey she regretted.