Chapter 3
The Underground Labyrinth
Moonlight played in Ludwig's silken hair. It bathed his skin in a blueish glow and outlined his angular, noble features. Laurence watched his lover with a peaceful smile. On nights like this when the moon was almost full, pale like a dead Pthumerian, and the monthly labyrinth hunt was coming the vicar often found himself sleepless. He never went down there anymore, but he trusted the leader of the Church Hunters to keep himself and his men safe. Still the memories of that abominable underground world haunted him. Observing Ludwig's sleeping form calmed his senses in such moments. So he stood by the window and took in the sight of the muscular man sprawled on his enormous bed. Or it had seemed enormous before he'd first had Ludwig here. With the leader of the Church Hunters in it the bed was barely adequate.
Laurence snorted soundlessly at that thought. Ludwig was a mountain of a man. Unlike the other men of the church he had been so even before he partook of the holy blood. He had been that way when they first noticed each other during a venture in the underground labyrinth. Laurence remembered it like it was yesterday…
On that expedition into the realm of tangled roots and ever-changing corridors, half a dozen scholars were accompanied by twice as many armed tomb prospectors. These brave souls had been hand-picked by Gehrman to protect the research crew, yet the founder of the recently established Workshop was reluctant to call these men 'hunters'. They were merely adventurers who came to Yharnam from across the land, heeding the call of Byrgenwerth. The school had made it known far and wide that the catacombs had been unsealed, and invited all the skilled huntsmen and warriors to join them on their ventures. Down in the deadly darkness of the chalice dungeons, these men could prove their bravery and prowess. Gehrman had tested their abilities and found them sufficient but he would never let these outsiders lead the scholars unsupervised. So of course, he was accompanying the expedition as well. He walked at the front of the group with his Burial Blade in hand and his new cloak billowing behind him.
Laurence always found Gehrman's need to dress up for the underground hunts ridiculous. With the money Byrgenwerth paid the university groundskeeper's son to cut down the abominations down here Laurence had expected Gehrman to put that money into suitable armor or several new pistols. But simple folk clearly couldn't keep their priorities in order when it came to large sums of money. Laurence was quite sure the fancy cape would end up in shreds soon enough. Still, he couldn't deny the elegance of Gehrman's garb. He knew it well. He'd peeled it off the man countless times already. But now was not the time to contemplate Gehrman's ridiculously long legs or his outfit. They were approaching uncharted territory.
Excitement rushed through Laurence as he heard shuffling ahead. He glimpsed the skinny form of a Pthumerian watcher as it charged towards their group only to be cut down by one of the hunters at the head of the procession. Gehrman barked an order for restraint, but one of the prospectors ignored it and charged towards a group of watchers in a room up ahead. He never made it to the threshold. A giant blade came whistling down and was it not for Gehrman's quick reaction the impatient hunter would have surely been sliced in half. As it was he merely stood inches from the blade, while Gehrman chastised him. The groundskeeper's son knew more of traps than the lot of them. His experience of trapping beasts in the forests around the university had proved invaluable yet again. Laurence felt a hint of pride. The other men only hunted for sport, they knew little of the tedious work performed by their servants and underlings. Without Gehrman none of them stood a chance down here.
A quick inspection revealed the trigger for the falling blade, and Gehrman marked the area with chalk. Armed with this new knowledge and wary of further traps, several huntsmen crossed the threshold of the chamber and set to cutting down the shambling ghosts of the long dead civilization. Most of the scholars watched them with scientific interest. Some of them scribbled down notes.
Laurence fixed the spectacles on his nose. They kept sliding down under the weight of the new thicker lenses. He squinted briefly at the squabble ahead and returned to his notebook, mapping out the new area of the underground labyrinth. He could hardly see the hunters and their quarry at such a distance, and trying to make them out in the dim light of torches was simply not worth the effort. His sight was getting less and less reliable. Laurence grimaced, trying not to think on it. Better to focus on the fascinating subterranean world around him than on his own mundane though inescapable doom.
The hunters gave a call and the rest of them carefully crossed the fallen blade, this time intentionally triggered by Gehrman. The chamber they entered was vast with tall columns rising into thick cavernous darkness above. Hooded statues stood below them, holding lanterns that lit the center of the long chamber. Dead Pthumerians lay by the walls. Sometimes in pieces, other times relatively intact. Each hunter had his personal style and approach. But they were mindful enough to move the bloody remains aside for the scholars to walk around freely once an area was secured.
The hired tomb prospectors had been instructed to kill every hostile creature they encountered. The scholars of Byrgenwerth wished to study the strange dwellers of these ruins, yes, but they could just as well study their corpses. They had tried to capture some of the specimen alive in the beginning, and even succeeded, but when it became clear that the dungeons were crawling with these creatures, the instructions were changed. Lives of researchers were of far more import.
Now that nothing stirred around them, the scholars scattered around the room, some taking samples, others studying the architecture and overall layout of their surroundings. Laurence wandered to the right, drawn by an isolated patch of light. A group of candles burned on what appeared to be a crude altar. The candles perplexed Laurence. He could comprehend how the degenerated Pthumerians replenished their supply of torches and lamp oil, but the innumerable burning candles on stones and candlesticks baffled him. Were there candle makers down here? Where? What did they use for the production of wax? And why even bother making, arranging and lighting all these candles when the Pthumerians displayed familiarity with less fussy lighting solutions? Was it a ritual?
As his mind puzzled over the lit candles, the altar shifted and... it rose, higher and higher, turning away from him until a blood-curdling sight was revealed to the eyes of the scholar. Strange tumorous growths covered the legs of the rising monster, its abdomen was a mass of torn flesh, hanging in ribbons from under a tattered hood. Laurence saw little else, as once it stood straight, the giant creature towered over him, thrice the height of a normal man, candles still burning bright somewhere on the nape of its neck. Laurence stared in morbid fascination as the giant lifted its misshapen arms. Its hands were... no, these were not hands, they were blades, and even as they came down on him, the young scholar only watched, unable to move.
There was a blur of gray and a tall man stepped between him and the falling blade, blocking it with his sword, and hacking one of the arms clean off with the next few blows. He engaged the giant, slashing at it until it recoiled. The man continued driving the creature away from Laurence, who still stood frozen in place, now taken aback not only by the monster, but also by the man who fought it. Before the rest of expedition managed to react to the commotion, the giant was dead. Its limp body toppled to the ground, the thud finally attracting the attention of others.
The tall man looked back at Laurence and judging the scholar to be safe and unscathed, he marched away to join the other huntsmen. Laurence followed him with his eyes, awed by the grace with which the hunter moved. It clashed with his herculean build. As did his elegant profile. Such visage was in itself quite unbelievable and shockingly out of place - a perfect knight gallant from a ballad come to life, strolling through a rotting tomb.
Laurence took a moment to process that.
"I told you not to go sneaking off into dark corners like that, you suicidal zounderkite! Are you even listening to me? You almost got yourself killed, Laurence!" Gehrman hissed. He had appeared out of nowhere, chastising Laurence the moment the rest of the party turned its attention elsewhere. "Laurence, stop staring at his arse and listen to me."
Laurence blinked and looked up at Gehrman. "Huh?"
The First Hunter glared at him skeptically. "Don't even dream of wooing that one, you lecherous shrimp. The coach he came in was probably worth more than your family's estate."
"I highly doubt that," Laurence retorted.
"It's cause you didn't see it. Princesses and countesses probably fight over him back home, so spare yourself the embarrassment and aim lower."
"Like yourself?" Laurence snorted.
"Like myself. Nothing wrong with good old Gehrman."
"Boring old Gehrman."
"Oh, bugger off." Gehrman rolled his eyes. "One way or another, if you want to shag someone in this room that isn't me, there's plenty Pthumerians to go around."
"Oh, ha ha."
They shared a moment of amicable silence, after which Gehrman's expression turned serious again. "Stay close to me, or some other hunter if you like. Master Willem will kill me if his star student dies on my watch."
"Nice to hear that you care so much for my safety." Laurence smirked.
Gehrman brushed a stray lock of dark hair out of Laurence's bespectacled eyes. Then he rejoined the tomb prospectors and minutes later the expedition moved on. And as it did, Laurence trotted livelily to try and keep up with his monumental savior. Gehrman was probably right, and having uncouth interests towards the man was pointless, but he could still use the protection.
"Thank you for saving my life," Laurence offered, tilting his head up to look at the hunter. He had to jog to keep up with the man's wide steps. "I remember we've been briefly introduced, but I failed to catch anyone's names. My name is Laurence."
The man seemed surprised to have been addressed. Arching his dark eyebrows, he looked down to his side where the small scholar suddenly sprouted, and smiled. "Ah, you are quite welcome. My name is Ludwig, and there really is naught to thank me for. I came to Yharnam to do this exactly. These labyrinths offer quite the thrill, do they not?"
"My pleasure. And absolutely, I fancy the jungles of the far south pale in comparison." Laurence pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped away the sweat that began beading on his forehead. Even this little hurried trot took a tremendous toll on his sickly physique. He would not be able to keep this tempo for long. "No tiger or lion could offer a challenge like one of these hulking revenants of the past. And it's for a good purpose."
"I certainly agree. No animal is quite as unpredictable as these creatures, and surely no game I have hunted before has ever set traps for the huntsmen. It almost seems like these creatures are capable of logical thoughts like our own, as if they expected us to come here." Ludwig seemed to have noticed Laurence's condition because he slowed down, mindful of his companion.
"Yes, centuries ago, they must have set up measures against intruders such as us. The Pthumerians were a highly developed civilization, there's little doubt of that. The sheer vastness of these labyrinths is a testament to their former greatness." Laurence gestured around them with his notebook. "And yet as it happened to other ancient civilizations in the past, though never to such an extent, the Pthumerians had fallen into a barbaric state, and now they are beyond reasoning with. The creatures you hunt are merely degenerated wretches retaining the semblance of a human form. Putting them out of their misery is an act of mercy. We have attempted communication with the captured specimens, but aside from an almost automatic routine set of actions and reactions they showed no sign of intelligence and not a hint of human emotion."
As they walked at Laurence's pace now they were soon overtaken by other tomb prospectors eager for action, and a concerned expression passed over Ludwig's face but the noble turned out to be too well mannered to mention it. The man seemed relieved by what he heard. He nodded, "It is clearly as you say, they've nought of humanity left in them, they act as beasts and thus we slay them as such. You claim all this research you conduct on gathered samples and artifacts excavated from this maze, is for good purpose. What do you hope to achieve, if I may ask?"
"The university's main purpose is the quest for enlightenment and with it betterment of humanity. My personal interest is in the realm of medicine. The monstrous beings of the depths display a supernatural resilience. I only hope we can uncover their secret and-"
"Your Lordship, Sir!" Gehrman called out from far ahead. "I would be grateful if you could join us, there is another one of those bloated pale bastards guarding a lever in the next room."
"Coming! I do apologize," Ludwig added the latter quietly, and assuring that he was pleased to have made Laurence's acquaintance, the hunter marched away to join up with the vanguard of the expedition.
Laurence gave Gehrman a glare and received a veiled crude gesture in return.
He watched Ludwig go and rejoin the majority of the hunters up ahead. The scholars to his sides were each minding their own business. Laurence glanced down at his hands. He was almost as pale as the Pthumerians. And unless the ancients soon shared their wisdom and presented him with a cure for his ailments in several years he would be just as bony as the most pitiful of those wretches. And blind. Not metaphorically like the lot of them, but factually and permanently bereft of sight. And from that point on no measure of cosmic insight could possibly help him.
Laurence gazed at his hands bathed in the bright moonlight. His palms were delicate and smooth like those of a fine work of art. His nightgown outlined the full, almost plump shape of his abdomen, that had once been all angles, visible ribs and a concave stomach. His glasses lay on the bedside table and yet even in this dim light he could make out single dark hairs on Ludwig's jaw. All of this he owed to the Old Blood. Without it he would have long been blind or possibly even dead.
Master Willem was a fool. A rich, healthy, old man who willfully blinded himself with fancy headgear to accelerate enlightenment while Laurence's youth had been a chain of illnesses with a promise of blindness looming just ahead. He did the right thing, when he left Byrgenwerth. Master Willem could go bathe in gauged out eyes for all he cared. The Old Blood was a blessing, not a thing to be feared.
Notes:
Psst, please leave us a comment if you're reading this fic! :3
(Also, if you want to read the NSFW companion fic, please go to our AO3)