Chapter 50: Mercies at the End

“As for the hostage, I suppose I’ll take the lord-”

“You cannot take the leader! Be reasonable. He has others that depend on him.”

“The girl then, she’ll be-”

“Absolutely not, Zadkiel!”

He clearly found it very amusing, as if he might’ve been teasing. “Well it has to be someone, now doesn’t it, Miss Feisty? Ah. The one that threw the dagger. No one essential, but one that hurts, hmm? A capable member.”

Sammy felt yet another dread in the pit of her stomach, a loathing for herself. What right did she even have to say? But Zadkiel was intent on getting a ‘win’ out of the matter, having a decent hostage. Mekias wasn’t a knight, so it had less political ramifications…

“We’ll arrange for him to be a Follower of mine, a Follower of Greenleaf, and I’ll be in regular contact with him. You’ll treat him-”

“I’ll treat him like a king in my court, oh goddess. He might not want to return, but return he shall, at worst a little fatter than before.”

“Give me a moment to discuss these terms with them.”

“Of course.”

She shared the basic rundown with Carlisle and her other Followers, all sweating behind the walls of flame. Carlisle took the news rather stoically, though there was a hint of relief, even with the hostage situation, which hit… not as hard as she would’ve thought. But that was self-sacrificial, sworn bordermen, she supposed.

There was no particular choice but to claim the divine intervention of ‘a goddess’ on their behalf, to which they were sworn also to secrecy. This went over fairly well among non-believers… despite the severity and danger of such an issue, they’d all come a hair from death and seen miraculous things. It clicked a lot better than believing it all coming from a young servant girl turned witch.

Divine intervention was hardly a reach to explain and realize the sense of spiritual fortune to have lived through the seemingly impossible.

“A goddess?” Bob exclaimed, shaking his head in wonder. “Fuck me sideways, I didn’t even see it.” Suddenly, he looked embarrassed and took off his helmet, eyes cast upward awkwardly. “Your pardon for the cussin’, ma’am.”

It’s more like prayer to this bitch, dude…

Mekias was supremely stoic about the news, lined face barely budging in reaction as he nodded in understanding. “Can’t be helped. Better than a dead liege and a dead me ’n everyone else, ay? I’ll go with a smile. Tell my wife it's just a longer tour out here, would you, my lord? Nothing too concerning-like. She’s a worrywart, especially after Gann passed.”

“I will, Mekias,” Carlisle said, giving his shoulder a pat. “I’ll send a messenger. She’d be too suspicious if I came in person.”

Of course this ruthless badass has a wife that loves him. A family. Damn it…

The wall of flames came down, and Zadkiel was already at the portal, waiting. Sammy noted that the flaming sword was missing, possibly retrieved. They all watched as the towering Zadkiel ushered the old scout to the portal with a hand, murmuring, “After you, friend.”

Mekias nodded to him, then turned to wave one last time. With a smile that was missing a couple of teeth — the lined smile of a father, a grandfather, a husband — he went through and was gone.

Zadkiel glanced over at Thadeus one last time. “What a great steaming elephant turd he turned out to be. And a waste of a contract. I give you lot the first chance to dispose of him.” With that, he strolled through the portal and it collapsed down after him, into a little line and then nothing, the runes of the circle around it dimming.

What was left of the group went up to the marchioness, briefly considering hacking through the wooden cage where the chain and lock were tied, before Bob found the keys on Thadeus’s person. Helpful, as the keys to the shackles were also on the same loop.

Sammy sent word back to the relief group, to start down again their way, this time without any need for a rush. She delivered the good news as well as the bad.

As soon as the marchioness was let out…

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The quest “The Noble March to Rescue” is complete. 55 FE gained. Free Minor Divine Enchantment (Accessory) granted. 6 exp gained in… please select [Wizard] or [Bard] (within the next 4 hours) due to supernatural ability use, trickery, and persuasion.
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Bonus Reward: 2 exp granted in [Wizard] and [Bard] for exceptional performance, daring, and results.
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Sammy had a bitter, humorless laugh at seven dead men being ‘exceptional.’ But she imagined their odds were even worse. It had been close to miraculous.

“Please lead me to Merril,” Dax sent, as she handed off the disguised mask to Estara and moved swiftly for the exit.

“I’ll lead you to the discarded relic first…” Sammy felt a dread for the questions that were coming. “His fear effect is going to persist for a while, Dax. An hour total.”

“What the bloody hell happened, Samantha?”

“Tarot. System Deck. He wanted to save you, to be the hero… it didn’t work out. I’m so sorry.”

Dax took it like a slap in the face, angry and hurt. “How could you do that to my brother? I’d do — I’ve done — whatever you’ve asked! I’m serving you at all because we saved him! Protecting him is all I fucking ask! You should’ve used it on me, damn it. Me.”

Sammy felt utterly miserable. “I’m sorry. He wanted his moment, Dax. Think of all the times you protected him. He isn’t blind, he… Dax, I flipped his last card. It should have been Death, Reversed. Some shadow of it has been hovering over and following him longer than this, don’t you think? When it comes, though, now the dusk will turn to dawn. His fate will change.”

Dax, still flowing in anger, barely seemed to hear. “I shouldn’t have told him… damn my running tongue… Why did I even tell him about it? This shouldn’t have happened…”

On her throne, Sammy leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Whatever was ahead, she felt like what had happened was meant to be. Her realizations, his — they were a necessary part of the future. A necessary part of fate.

I am a Fortuneteller. I can’t get away from it. Hasn’t it always been within me? Isn’t it tied into why I am even here in the first place? And the next time I have to go into that place, things are going to be different…

Marchioness Agatha, bedraggled in dirty night clothes, had her bonds removed, something she watched almost in disbelief. Rubbing at her wrists, she finally gazed at Lord Carlisle, her eyes soon dropping two tears down either cheek. Those were all, though.

“Old friend… I can never repay you for this. You’ve saved my life, saved the stability of Oldaster.” Her gaze swept over the pocket of others. “All of you have. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.” Her eyes moved to the fallen soldiers scattered about. “Thank you for your sacrifices. They will never be forgotten. No one here, dead or alive, shall go unknighted or upgraded in the fee therein. No family without reward for valor and bravery.”

“We only do our duty, my lady,” Carlisle offered simply.

A whimper came from the other side of the room, and everyone turned. Thadeus, stirring slightly. He was covered in burns, face a grimace as he gradually seemed to be coming to.

A supreme coldness came over the marchioness’s features at the sight. She picked up Sir Galmore’s fallen sword and proceeded over, the others sticking well close as guards.

As she neared, Thadeus awoke, and with a cry tried to get up, or move away. He screamed in pain from a broken leg and flopped back down, almost incapacitating himself again. Looking up at the fast-approaching group, his burned face took on the most pitiable terror, eyes seemingly wanting to tear but unable to.

Holding a hand up, he managed to hoarsely whimper out the words, “Mercy, mercy please…”

The marchioness stood over him and paused. “Sir Thadeus, Second Guardian of Oldaster, consider it a mercy that your family will never hear of your treachery here. Consider it a mercy that your younger brother, a good man, will not have his name stained by association with you. That he and others will remember you as a hero… lie that it is.”

She brandished the blade in her hand. “Consider this blade that I am going to kill you with a mercy, compared to the judgment you truly deserve. Now. Your last words, if you please.”

Dry-sobbing, Thadeus shook his head, denying, begging to the last. “No, please! I-I can tell you things, he told me things, showed me-”

Agatha plunged the narrow blade down, right through Thadeus’s heart in a smooth motion. His body seized and any words on his tongue were frozen in a face of shock, as Agatha twisted the blade to hasten his end. Blood spurted from his chest, but it was not instant… He looked at the blade, and his hand wanted to grasp it, but it never quite made it before he dropped back and went limp, ceasing to move.

Somehow, it was one death Samantha refused to look away from. No one did.

Ripping the blade free and wiping the blood off on those scorched robes, Agatha turned to the others with a face hard but for a trace of the disgust she felt. “I don’t fully understand what happened here. I know a deal was made with that tall one, and I know this is best called a victory against frogmen machinations rather than whatever the demonic truth is. Carlisle, if you could confer with me privately? The rest of you… sit and rest a bit.”

“Yes, my lady,” Carlisle replied. “I believe we have plenty of relief coming our way, in any case.”

“Tell her everything,” Samantha sent to Carlisle. “She is meant as one of mine. Ours.” The ease with which she could say it scared her a bit. “Well, not everything. Save my actual identity for me. You know what I mean. I don’t want my name so much as spoken down here.”

As Carlisle gave the long and involved rundown quietly to Agatha, Sammy switched over to Dax, who had picked up the relic and was approaching Merril. Sammy forewarned her not to get too close, and that Merril could easily bolt, whatever she tried.

From around the other side of a stalagmite, Dax called softly over where she had been told the crack was, “Merril? It’s okay. It’s me… your sister.”

“S-stay away from me!”

“I am, I am… I’m just going to sit right here, at a distance… I’m not coming closer… just hanging around. I’ll kill anything that tries to get you. Yeah?”

“Everyth-thing is trying to kill me… even fate…”

“I hear it can’t now, though, buddy… you’ll defy death, huh? That’s something. Something to look forward to.”

“How could death ever be?! I-I saw it already… I died… in miserable pain. Alone.”

“Past life,” Sammy sent to Dax. “A famous harpist who became a drug addict and gave up on life.”

“You really did a number on him, didn’t you?”

“Fate did. And maybe it was a necessary pain… one that had to be faced. A thorn of the mind unseen, now revealed, now removable. Processable.”

“The idea of him being warped by mistakes in a prior life that he has to fix… now we’re getting philosophical.”

“Damn it, what I’m saying is the tarot isn’t just some random bullshit! Maybe people get what they need, even if they don’t want it. Even if it hurts.”

With annoyance and a frustrated sigh, Dax sent, “I’m tired of this conversation. I’m glad my brother isn’t dead because of you. The rest of that stuff you’re talking about? Let’s see ‘fate’ and you prove it. Now leave me and him alone for a while. You’ve done enough.”

Sammy didn’t bother replying. Dax wanted someone to vent upon. The dealer had to take both shares of the blame: the dealt was too fucked up already to add to it.

Ultimately, Merril’s fate still depends on Merril… he still has the choice of how to face it. Just as Baitan did.

“Merril,” Dax said right as Sammy was exiting, “Tell me about this past life, eh? The good parts. The beginning…”

When Sammy checked her FE briefly, she realized she’d gotten prayer returns from those not in the caverns… and had 993 FE.

Holy fucksticks, I’m close as shit, now.

Agatha looked like a train had run over her from all the information Carlisle had delivered. Estara was just walking over to them, having been called from her efforts speaking prayers over the dead, wishing them blessings in the next life.

When Estara approached and curtsied, Agatha nodded to her with a measure of respect. “I hear you’re a priestess, young lady. I wanted to reiterate, I meant what I said to all the valiant souls that made a stand here. You’re one of them, Estara. Whether you accept it in full or just in honors — common among those not reared to the life — I will knight you. You will be known as Dame Estara forever after that day.”

Even with blood showing on her teeth and her face scuffed and dirty, Estara’s starry-eyed grin was something Samantha needed right then. An anchorage, an assurance that some things had not been corrupted by their ordeals. Servant, priestess, fighter, dame, Estara was Estara… a beacon in the night.

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