A5G

Absolved Will Be the Saviors

It's hard to imagine that such torturous experience from a mere graze could be fielded from mundane means... well, at least not in this manner. A substance that was effective even at a minor graze, can be procured in sufficient number that the musketeers in this backwater place can peruse freely, whipe being safe enough to handle without contamination risk? She never heard of any.

Mirielle shook the errant thought away. That was a line of thoughts better suited to smarter people. For now, they needed to get the hell out of this place.

"Wait, Carnatia-" The ex-inquisitor started as Carmen went off, but her words were interrupted by a fiery explosion that crumpled the dead commander's tent. She braced with her left side as the heat washed over, bits of wooden debris bouncing off the armored side. Yellow eyes flickered with newfound urgency, looking at the few remaining Carnatias standing in place looking ready for a fight.

Her heart sank as none of them reacted like a normal human would. Turning back and forth from the exit and the now ruined tent, it didn't take long for Mirielle to come into a decision as a newfound sense of urgency filled her voice.

"Carnatia's still in there!" She went into a jog before breaking into a sprint, shouting to fight against the ringing in her ears. "Cover each other and get out, I'll catch up! You both better stay alive!"

She didn't wait for a reply, quickly reaching the tent that had collapsed in the most spectacular fashion. At least it wasn't on fire, but the promise of immolation wasn't far with how the hot wind licked her skin. And then there's the telltale stink of some sort of whale oil, earning the quartermaster of this place a severe mental scolding. Who even thought that it's a good idea to place such volatile stuff there?

Taking a deep breath, lungs protesting at the acrid warm air, Mirielle suppressed a cough as she yelled at the heap. "Carnatia! You alive in there?!"

Taking measured aim, she poked at the canvas heap with her spear to test the waters and, feeling no resistance, carefully cut open a new entrance.

Absolved Will Be the Saviors

Mirielle gasped for air, tension bleeding out of her form as the brief exchange ended with the commander felled by flanking maneuver. One that wouldn't have been necessary had she committed into a killing blow from the get go, instead it almost ended with her innards painting the packed dirt of the outpost.

A lesson in the danger of overconfidence. And greed.

"...ah. Carmen!" Sparing a short moment to retrieve her spear, the ex-inquisitor immediately jogged over to the previously downed captain. Carmen looked like he's doing better, but that's likely a mix of adrenaline and her own aura keeping him up. The cut still bled into his eye, and it needed bandaging soon. And then there's the information they gotta grab from the commander's tent before the fire beat them to it, and then getting out before said fire overwhelmed their position.

She gritted her teeth. This wasn't over yet.

"Amaris, clear those soldiers out! Carnatia, grab what documents you can from the commander's tent!" Mirielle barked at the other two, hoping that they'll listen despite her lack of rank to pull. Keeping her spear ready, she fished some bandage from her satchel and pressed it onto Carmen's wound. "Stay bloody still and keep the pressure, I'll hold this position. And Creator's sake, if there's some magical crap causing that pain you should have cleansed it already."

Absolved Will Be the Saviors

The initial exchange revealed that Mirielle was utterly outmatched, at least when it comes to strength and durability. Her strike impacted what felt like iron bars, the jarring rattle spreading up her arms, and the spear was caught before it even had the chance to slide off with the momentum. Even though she draw first blood it didn't even felt like a win with how the easterner seemingly ignored the wound.

Fucking physical enhancers.

Carmen said something, but she was a bit too busy not getting smeared on the ground to properly pay attention. Much less replying. In a not unexpected but still entirely unwelcome feat of strength her foe yanked at her weapon, intent on dragging her straight toward an incoming blow. She loosened her grip at her spear, footwork rapidly shifting as the engraved shaft scraped and heated her gloves from the friction, grabbing and twisting herself at the last second to swirl out of the hammerhead trajectory. Her hair fluttered from the crackling shockwave of the maul's passing, leaving no illusion that had it been a direct hit it would've knocked her halfway into the grave, armor be damned.

Fucking physical enhancers.

Hobnailed boots dug furrows into the ground, the ex-inquisitor still holding onto the spear locked in place by tyrranical might. In a few seconds the commander will reset his stance at which point she had to let go or suffer dire consequences, but Mirielle loathe to give up on her symbol of justice. Her evasion had brought her a short respite for one last ditch effort. It'll have to do.

Divine energy pulsed from her dwindling reserve, leaving just about a quarter after the miracles expended through the day. It coursed from her core into her arms, entering the spear which immediately set aglow with blazing gold. An illusory spear overlaid the material, its radiant warmth resembling a midday sun to all but the garrison commander who should suffer the full wrath of the sun's fury.

Mirielle disengaged backward as the holy lance discharged, retrieving her spear with her if her foe let go from the heat. The divine projectile seemingly launched into the distance at first, but it'll curve up before coming back to crash onto the commander from above. A smiting well-deserved, and let none ever say otherwise.

Absolved Will Be the Saviors

The party quickly proved that their confidence were not misplaced, dispatching what must've been the best of the commander's men. Mirielle allowed herself a sliver of grim satisfaction at the bloody spectacle, yet it soon was apparent that their foe weren't completely toothless after all.

A shot struck Carmen, and for a brief moment her heart stilled as the captain stayed down for a second longer than he should. Then he began screaming and thrashing, ice spreading in her veins.

Something unnatural was in that bullet.

"Carmen! Get ahold of yourself, your work is not done yet!" Her voice boomed through the chaos, blazing aura flared in full force. Carnatia and even Amaris would feel an invigorating resolve welling from within, not to mention fellow faithful like Carmen. Hopefully enough to get him back to his feet, the man was quite adept at combating foul magic as long as he's not incapacitated.

Mirielle barely took note of the marksmen falling, her attention taken by the Tretagorian commander emerging with a brutish weapon befitting his nature. Even with the burning aura licking his skin the man remained stalwart, most definitely one of their traditional self-empowering magic user if the unnatural strength he struck Carmen with earlier wasn't enough of an indication.

Pale yellow eyes peered into the man, wary yet confident in her own inevitable triumph. Bracing into a low stance, Mirielle flashed a feral grin as her muscles tensed and coiled like a taut spring, ready to dart forward with deadly force.

"Your tyranny ends today, blackguard."

And with that she lunged forward, her fading divine armor scattering glimmering gold in her wake, spearpoint poised to impale the commander's face clean through. Yet all was a feint, for at the last moment the broad spearhead pivoted to cleave along the shaft of his warhammer and take off his fingers in one clean sweep.

Still need him alive to cough out what he knew after all. Carmen will get him to talk eventually. They always do sooner or later.

Absolved Will Be the Saviors

Mirielle loathe the idea of taking a seat on the same table as the local tyrant, but she's left with little choice with Carmen taking the lead. At least she could still refuse to partake in the tainted bounties offered by her host, undoubtedly procured with illicit means.

She let Carmen do the speaking, inwardly reciting scriptures after scriptures to keep herself in control lest she flipped out and run through the brigand then and there. Words barely get through to her in this state, likely for the best considering how much the outpost commander tested her nerve just by existing.

This lasted until a decorated shield was presented before them, ornately functional in similar vein to her own spear. The Order's color adorning it and the traces of battle use made it a highly likely armament of the illustrious paladin. It did not bode well that it was separated from the owner in some manner, but that didn't necessarily mean Sir Thomas was dead.

All in all, Mirielle found herself in an odd state of detached calm. A rare reversal compared to Carmen's current outrage. Even when it rapidly escalated into impending violence, she only shrugged as she stood from her seat.

Was it because it's well within her expectation for a fight to start, one way or another? Or perhaps she's glad to return to familiar ground. At the end of the day, the once-inquisitor preferred direct action to words.

"I see where that - what's his name, Yakult? - got his blind confidence. Did they forgot to pass the message? The Order of the Golden Sun does not recognize your authority over this land." Stepping to the side to interpose herself between the watchtower and Amaris, Mirielle took a deep breath as divine power roiled in great waves within her veins. "We are not trapped in here with you, blackguard. You are trapped in here with us."

With a flex of her willpower the divine energy flared, forming the glowing suit of golden light over her being. Protection aside, with her party members focusing on the commander, they'll be mostly spared the debilitating effect of staring at a sudden bright glow in the middle of the night. Hopefully enough to debilitate the marksmen long enough for someone to take them out. With a flourish her spear lashed out, going from resting to threateningly pointing at the approaching soldiers.

It had been a while since she wielded the spear against an actual adversary. It's almost... nostalgic.

Absolved Will Be the Saviors

Mirielle said nothing even as Carmen addressed the first grunt, and still no word escaped her at the snide comments. She did, however, glowered the entire time. They may dress up as soldiers, but the lack of professionalism revealed their true nature as well-equipped brigands. If an annoyingly perceptive one.

"Easy now, dont bite him." She reminded, completely serious as they strolled past the wooden gate. She saw the camp for what it was, a place that could probably be called fortified if one had never seen actual fortifications before. Only two watchtowers to begin with, not even enough to properly cover all directions. Lack of platforms for the defenders to get atop the walls, the construct will hinder them more than any dedicated assault force and turning it into a deathtrap for themselves. Not to mention how sloppy the men were, half of them didnt even keep up the soldiery appearance. It all worked in her favor for once, but her judgment over their potential enemies had reached rock bottom.

Or at least it was rock bottom, but then the redstripes started to dig themselves deeper.

The earldoman, who looked just as destitute as the peasant hunter from earlier, was allegedly punished for sabotage. Now Mirielle wasn't unfamiliar with the concept, but the way it's carried... unilateral decision with zero investigation. On top of that she had strong suspicion that the deal was closer to a racketeering scheme rather than anything.

Her hand clenched around the shaft of the spear resting on her shoulder, outrage barely held in. Carmen and the noblewoman will be the spokeperson here, not her. But this oppression will be addressed sooner or later.

"If the worst is to come, get behind me." Mirielle casually whispered at the penitent, inching around as if she's interested in the lashing to get between the (perceived) least durable member of their little quartet and the marksmen.

Absolved Will Be the Saviors

"Carmen!?" Mirielle exclaimed in disbelief at the insane proposal of going into the heart of hostile territory. No matter how skilled, a blade to the right place will end him all the same. The same applied to most of everyone present, whoever went will risk their life. Even if they razed the entire place after, it'll be little consolation to the ones already slain.

Her thoughts went to the recently disappeared Ludvig. Of all people, he'd be the most suitable for the job... unfortunate that he deserted. Mirielle could scant imagine anyone or anything taking him away against his will without any of the merry little band noticing after all.

She took a deep breath, steadying herself and putting the unstable man out of mind. No use thinking about what could've been. Their cards were dealt, now it's time to make the best use out of it.

"I believe I am most suitable for the escort." She raised, glancing at the rest of the party. "The two of us have fought side by side before, we know best how to cover one another. And I'm quite hard to put into the grave, I stand the best chance of surviving until the rest of the team can intervene should things go south."

Her glances darted from one person to another, though whether she's looking for support or daring them to object was unclear.

Absolved Will Be the Saviors

"Getting through isn't the problem. Keeping the horses alive would be." Mirielle stated from atop her saddle, spear resting over her right shoulder. "Perhaps we should wait for nightfall? Going around the camp, or simply charging past the blockade is an option then. But riding in the darkness for any prolonged period is just as risky as letting the marksmen take shot at us."

Piercing yellow gaze fell on her party members, expecting someone to know some unique solution to their predicament. In worst case they'll need to fight it through... not that attractive of a choice either. Mirielle doubted that anyone important was stationed in this small outpost, there's little to gain from escalating the conflict.

"We could always back up a bit, find someone from the village. They must know if there's alternate paths." She said with a shrug. That'll entail backtracking, costing more time, without any assurance of the potential gain. The soldiers were stationed here for a reason, would be pointless if they're so easily bypassed.

Absolved Will Be the Saviors

Mirielle stared woodenly at Ludvig's outstretched hand for a moment before it clicked, and in just about any other situations would've be rather excited to ask about more. But for the moment she quietly removed her right glove and handed it over, before carefully unclasping the gauntlet on the other side.

"Ah, yeah. Do your thing, please. Thanks." Her glance on the mage lasted a few seconds before it returned to the bodies, her boot tapping on the ground as nervous energy welled up. Burial will take some time, but well... it's the least they could do for the victims.

*****

Ah, Carmen's lantern. She wasn't sure if it could play back that far, but seemed that the last moment of the clerics was still within his reach. A grim sort of anticipation rose, ready to see the blackhearts responsible for the massacre.

And through the replay, her mood was replaced by a near-comical flabbergastion before it reignited the cold fury within.

She was wrong. These were beyond cruel men. They were monsters in human skin, with a gaping pit where their heart should be.

"I'm going to kill them."

The statement was disconcertingly light, like someone talking about taking a short nap. Mirielle turned around, by some confidence following after Ludvig until she reached where the horses were tied. With religious slowness the ex-inquisitor unclasped her sword, storing it in her luggage before retrieving a long pole tightly wrapped in leather.

Step by step the leather wrap came undone, revealing a masterfully crafted spear gleaming under the sun. Metal braces ran across the length of an ironwood shaft, culminating into a wide bladehead and a pair of wings on one side while rounded metal butt rested on the other end as both a counterbalance and a blunt instrument both.

Scriptures covered every surface but the spearhead, etched on the metal and carved into the shaft. Mirielle caressed the surface as she recited in low voice, eyes closed as her aura momentarily flared.

"...show courage in righteousness, to bear pain in the suffering of others. Pray that we forget not the mercy for the downtrodden, and grant us the strength to prevail over the wicked-"

Absolved Will Be the Saviors

"...bone structure?" Mirielle parrotted with thinly veiled skepticism. Great, this one's unreliable. Oh well, it's probably a bit too much of an ask for the girl. "Good job. We... should move on."

Her investigation result on the corpse was... less than satisfactory. The soot felt unusual somehow, but not in any manner she can articulate. And then there'd Ludvig being touchy all of sudden, earning him a glare as she flinched. Clicking her tongue in annoyance, Mirielle cut her finagling short and stood back up. This wasn't working, a specialist was needed and she doubt there's one in a few hundred miles.

"I am not suggesting us to engage in mindless slaughter, lady de Valmont." Replied the ex-inquisitor, a bit offended that the noble would even imply such. "Merely pointing at the best course of further investigation. If you hadn't notice, this site is a dead end."

Not like they have tried too hard to look, but two weeks of bad weather had its way to wash away potential evidences. The local peasant was at the end of his usefulness too, likely not having much more beyond bits of rumors. Probably no time to gossip when he had to constantly worry about his next meal.

"Very well, you have been most helpful. A word of advice, you should take your family into hiding. Those soldiers looked like the vindictive sort, best to be prudent. Take care, good man."

Frustration welled up and subsequently bottled in. This really wasn't her day, to think that the witch's words resonated the most with her. Despite her own words earlier, Mirielle couldn't help but worry. How long will the trail of corpses be, by the time they're finished with the mission?

May the Creator have mercy on their souls.