Chapter 414 - Revalations

Two Weeks Ago

Ryan Clairemont

Pain consumed his existence. It was the only thing he could think about or feel. Any attempt to do otherwise was impossible. He couldn't even think about getting up and hobbling away, let alone set about doing it.

His arm was just gone. His leg was gone. He'd used up the last of his mana just to stop the bleeding. His Bloodline did what it could to put the pieces that were his body back together, but without mana to work with, the progress was slow.

The only thing Ryan could do was lie there and groan in pain, not that doing so helped in any way. The entire time, he feared discovery. Feared that Christopher and his hammer would step over him to finish the job.

How the man had done what he had was... beyond Ryan. The sword should have been enough. He'd been told it would be enough.

The crunch of snow and rustling of leaves caused his heart rate to spike.

He found me!

Ryan held his breath and froze all motion or even the thought of moving.

Maybe he won't–

"Look what we have here?" A feminine voice mocked from much closer than Ryan thought. It sounded like the voice was coming from directly behind where his head lay.

A woman? Instead of questioning how the person had gotten so close without notice, Ryan instead questioned why it was a woman's voice that had come to kill him. Not a woman he knew, either. It didn't sound like Vanessa, Bri, or Zuri.

"When the Big Man said to come observe, I never thought it would end like this." The mocking continued, "What about you, huh? Did you think it would end with you a cripple? And after all your scheming, too."

"Uhhh," Words were still beyond his ability.

Finally, the woman stepped into his vision, leaning over his broken form. Alabaster skin, black hair, and a relatively pretty face, with enough makeup for a touch of boldness, but not enough to stand out.

Grey eyes, nearing black, stared into his with amusement dancing in them.

"Oh, that's okay, sweetie. You don't have to respond." The woman said with a feigned frown. "It looks like you could use some help, huh?"

"Mmmmhh," Ryan gurgled, as blood and saliva welled in his throat.

"Oh, you poor thing," She cooed, kneeling over him. "We don't have much time, so we're going to have to be quick." She drew a paper from a pouch on her belt. The parchment was covered in words, but that wasn't the important part.

It was the ink used to write them that drew Ryan's attention. Even as addled as he was, he recognized the ink. He'd bought it not long ago and had used it to forge an unbreakable iron fist around his Faction.

That same 'contract' was being waved in his face now. More like chains.

"Oh, not so funny now, is it? Seeing how you know what I'm holding, there's no need to explain. Sign, and I take you to be healed. Refuse, and I'm sure it won't take them long to find you. In your state... well, you can still hope for a quick death."

"N-nnoo," He managed to get out painfully, "S-somet-hing else. H-has to be something else. I'll g-give you a-any–"

"Oh, honey, that's not the way this works," she cut him off while patting his arm playfully. The arm that he still had, but waves of pain spread from the 'playful' pat, causing him to cry out. "Maybe if you'd won, or were at your best. But as you are now..." she gave his broken body a casual scan, "No. Sign or die."

Ryan's hand moved to the sword hilt, but he was too slow.

"No, no, we can't have that, now can we?" Her foot pinned his hand to the ground, inches away from the hilt. "Sign, or die." She repeated.

"W-who are y-you?" Ryan stammered.

The woman smiled, "You can call me Maeve."

The name didn't invoke any understanding, and neither did the Big Man. Ryan didn't know who this was or who she worked for. He wasn't sure which was more frightening.

"The terms are simple, I'll even read them to you," She added, turning the paper toward her like she was reading it for the first time, "Do what we say. Tell no one. And tell us where you got the sword."

It was a slave contract.

"I'm afraid we'll have to get to that last one now." She said, increasing the pressure on his hand.

"I d-don't k-know," He got out through the pain.

"Oh, no. Sign first." She waved the contract in front of his face, "Can't have you holding out on me or lying. You wouldn't lie to me, would you?" The words dripped fake sweetness, matching her fake smile.

He fought to free his hand, to do anything. Rally his mana, muster his strength, use his Law, but none of it worked. What pitiful light he managed to conjure was consumed by shadows. His Law was ripped away. All his attempts ended in failure.

Ryan's hopes died. He didn't want to die.

Resigned, he sent mana into the slave contract.

"Good boy," She mocked, pulling out a glowing red potion from a pouch and pouring it down his throat. The potion was high-grade, but it wouldn't do much. His body was too broken for that. He needed a Healer.

What it could do was allow him to talk clearly.

"Now, where did you get the sword?" She asked, putting the empty vial back into a pouch.

Ryan tried to repeat the words from earlier, but he couldn't. A tightening in his chest forced him to say something else, "A man."

"Oh, a man? Who?" She pressed on.

"I don't know. I swear." He forced out, "He gave it to me."

"Gave it to you?" Her face turned suspicious. "What did he want in return?"

Everything that had happened was catching up to Ryan. The pain, the blood loss, the whiplash, all of it. The healing potion helped bolster him, but it wasn't nearly enough to keep him conscious.

"Chaos. He wanted chaos." That was all he managed to say before sleep overcame him.

Maeve looked down at the broken body in front of her and shook her head, "Oh, how the mighty have fallen."

___

The Bishop

The Bishop woke with a start, his body trembling in fear, and blood leaking from his nose. Cold sweat covered him from head to toe, with a throbbing pain right behind the eyes. The dreams weren't getting any easier to deal with, even with his improved strength since they began.

Honestly, he would have been more suspicious if they had gotten easier. It was not in the nature of the divine to be easily understood. The revelations given to him weren't meant to be received easily.

Still, it took him a while to calm his beating heart and get his body under control. It wouldn't do to be seen so raddled by the acolytes.

One job. You had one job.

The words echoed long after they had first been uttered. This revelation hadn't been the most... pleasant. The Bishop had failed in his task, and that was made clear to him.

Giving away the artifact to someone outside his control was explained to him as a poor decision. Less than poor, based on how angry the divine messenger seemed to be.

The goal was achieved. Chaos was wrought. Thousands died in the conflict. The Bishop had tried to defend himself.

Thousands? You claim the goal achieved?! None who died held any importance! They were useless, only there to fill space, spill blood, and die. The previous Assessment was an Army-test, it won't do the same type twice in a row, that would defeat the purpose.

The Bishop had to hold himself back from asking follow-up questions to that, specifically what the larger purpose of the Assessments was, but he'd learned early that questions weren't his to ask. He was told what he needed to be told.

Instead, he bowed his head silently.

If a few of the Leaders had died, sure, it might be able to be construed as a task accomplished, but none of them? Five Faction Leaders fought in conflict, and none died. None! What did you think I meant when I said to cause chaos? Sow discord. Fan the flames of war. Stoke discontent. I thought I was clear!

I apologize, your holiness, The Bishop said, I will strive to do better.

See that you do, or these 'revelations' won't be nearly as pleasant for you. The Lightbringer demands progress, and I don't want to be the one to tell him you failed.

The memory faded, as he'd woken up right after.

The morning sun was just beginning to crest the horizon, bringing the first rays of light for the day. Earlier, but not too early. The Bishop dressed and made his way over to the Deacon's door before knocking upon it heavily.

Deacon Hector was slow to get up, but he opened the door moments later, wearing halfway decent attire, at least.

"Deacon Hector, I've got a job for you." The Bishop said.

Irritation flashed in the Deacon's face, but he quelled it quickly. The Bishop knew he wanted to ask if banging on his door this early was necessary, but he'd kept that retort to himself, luckily.

"Yes, Bishop, what does his grace have need of me for?" The polite answer, instead of the first one to come to mind.

"I need you to go east, through trough the Mountain pass, and retrieve an artifact that has been lost with all due haste." He explained, "Of lesser import is the task of weakening the resistance we may face when we spread over the mountains in the east."

The Deacon nodded in understanding.

"The artifact comes first. Retrieving it is your primary objective." He restated.

"What of the Faction Leaders of note?" The Deacon asked, "Are there any you aim to... convert?"

"Not at this time," he said, "Initial estimates only had one who might side with us, and he's already been inducted. The rest will be quite... stubborn."

"I hear and obey. I'll leave within the hour." The Deacon bowed.

"Good. Blessings to your journey."