LIORE: THE CATHEDRAL
"You're sure you don't need a physician?" Asked Cray.
"I'm fine. Just need to rest." The one-legged man used the wall for support, his sword stowed on his back. He was covered in dried blood, his face a mask of bruises and scabs. Steadily, he inched along towards the nearest door of the corridor. A pack of templars walked behind the two of them, wincing with every jolting hop.
Cray frowned. He was a large, blocky man with a broad face and trimmed goatee. His templar's coat was black, with white trim, and his skin was dark. He had the honor and duty of serving the Sun God's prophet on Earth, and one of Leto's teachings was compassion to those who deserved it.
He laid his hand on the man's shoulder, and immediately had it knocked away. "Don't touch me."
Crayshook his head."I just wanted to say, there's no need for stubborn pride. You're wounded, you're hurt, you're obviously exhausted... What difference does it make? Let us help you to the room. Please. If only to make us feel better, frankly it hurts to watch you."
The man paused in mid-skip. He looked back at him, his one eye studying Cray's face for a long minute. Finally, he grinned. "Guess I am a mess, aren't I? All right. Suit yourself."
Cray nodded, and waved another templar forward. The two of them started to lift the one-legged man... and nearly fell over backwards! "Wh.. what?" Cray gasped, regaining his balance. It's like he weighs twice what he should. What on earth... His eye fell on the sword on the stranger's back, and comprehension struck. "That... that sword. How much does it weigh?"
"About two-hundred pounds."
"Well, we can't carry it and you at the same time, here, take it off and we'll...
"No."
And they watched, in amazement, as the one-legged man closed the distance to the door, and vanished inside.
"How can he carry that thing, let alone wield it? And with one leg! Truly Leto has blessed him... Or SOMETHING has blessed him..." The templars whispered among themselves, and Cray glared them to silence. He walked to the door, and nodded as the Stranger collapsed onto the bed, and started pulling pouches off of his belt.
"I'll have food, water, and clean bandages sent up for you in a bit. The Father will want to talk to you as well, but he's in seclusion right now. I'll ask him if he wishes to make an exception."
The stranger grunted. "Thanks."
"Incidentally, I didn't have time to ask. What's your name?"
"Guts."
"I'm Cray. Please relax, you're in the hands of Leto now. You have nothing to worry about, the Sun God takes care of the righteous."
And Cray closed the door, and went to make his report to Father Cornello.
---
Puck hopped off of Guts' shoulder, and watched the door shut. "Wow, that was nice of them. Kind of weird though, not a one of them could see me."
Pouches hit the bed behind him, as Guts pulled out the various tools and bottles he used to clean his weapons. "Didn't you tell me once, not everyone could see elves?"
"Yeah, but this is the first time I've run into a town full of them. It's kinda nice, actually... Usually I get hassled a lot when I go someplace new."
"Is that why you stick with me?"
"Please! I already told you, you're interesting enough on your own. Besides, you'd be lost without me."
Guts snorted. He pulled out a whetstone, and handful of rags, and examined his sword. Shifting it from side to side, he moved the bulky heap of iron around, frowning at it all the while.
The hell? There should be stains on this blade from the blood of those guys, but there's nothing. Did it wear off on the trip? He ran a finger down his face, and looked at the crusty reddish-brown smear. This is their blood too... Why is it still on me, and not the sword?
He flipped the blade again, and his eye widened.
The blade's unscratched. How is this possible? I looked at it in the desert, and the sand was marking it all up... I'm sure that I saw all the scratches on it... But now it's fine. Was I sun-sick?
"Hey, what's wrong? You look like you saw a ghost..."
Guts shook his head. "Nothing." The sword's fine, that's all that matters right now. I've got other things to worry about.
He put the sword aside, and moved on to his knives and autocrossbow, giving them light treatment. After those, he pulled out a padded pouch, full of spiky little metal spheres, each in their own little wool-padded wrapping. These he didn't clean, he just checked to make sure that they were intact, and not leaking.
Finally, he pulled a couple of stays on his metal arm, and detached the front part from the socket. He winced at the small flood of sand that poured out. It's a miracle I got that shot off without blowing this wide open... Painstakingly, he picked out each particle of grit from the workings, and applied oil to the joints. After that, he reached into another pouch, packed powder, flints, and wadding into the hollow socket, and loaded an apple-sized metal sphere. He reattached the front part of the arm, and tried flexing it. Still not working quite right. Damn. I wonder how the smiths on this world stack up to Godo?
"It was nice of them to put us up here, though. Well, you, anyway. I'm just along for the ride." Puckbabbled on.
"Feel like going flying?" Guts asked.
Puck glanced around. "What did you have in mind?"
"Just want to make sure our hosts are sincere."
"Hey, that Cray guy seemed pretty nice... Maybe a little stern, sure, but..."
"He's got a boss, and I want to know something about him before I meet him. Never heard of any god called Leto. Or any god that wasn't God."
Puck shrugged. "Hey, if it'll set your mind at ease." Guts was already lying back on the bed, his eye starting to shut. "Feh. Allright, you big lazybones..."
And with a twitch of his wings, he was out the window and zooming around the vast cathedral.
All of a sudden, there was a burst of NOISE around the city, that set him wobbling in flight, and covering his ears before settling on rooftop. Curious, he stared down into the window below. A family was listening to what looked like a small wooden box, oddly shaped. The box was talking about the Sun God, and how everyone could be saved in his eyes. Puck didn't catch all the details, as he took to the sky again, and hovered through the city. Every place that people lived or worked had one of these boxes, and they were all saying the same thing, in the same voice.
"Magic?" He squinted, and focused his senses. "No. It feels more... metal, and sparky. This is human-made, whatever it is."
That settled, he watched a pair of unlikely travelers, one short in a red coat, and one wearing a full suit of spiked armor. In this heat? He flew forward to get a closer look, and was startled as the armored figure stared directly at him!
"WAAAA!" Puck beat his wings and took off into the sun, leaving Al grasping his brother's shoulder. "Ed! Ed, did you see that?"
"See what, Al?"
Al pointed at the retreating green spark, and watched as Ed looked that way and shrugged. "Well, it's a pretty big cathedral, but no real cause for alarm. C'mon, let's get a drink."
"Not that... but... I mean... Okay." Al nodded, and followed his older brother.
---
Hiding under a statue of a bearded man with a spiky crown, Puck panted and caught his breath. "He saw me! Guess not everyone here's elf-blind... Hm, this'll make things tricky."
He straightened up. "Wait, I need to find the boss guy, that Father Cor... Cornhole? Coronet? Something like that..."
"Father Cornello!" A voice came from the window above him.
"Yeah, that was it! Wait, what?"
He popped his head up through the window, and saw a well-furnished office. He was looking at the back of a bald man's head, and off to the left was Cray. A tan-skinned woman with pink, two-shaded hair was talking to the bald man. "...Is it okay if I put them up in the pilgrim's quarters?"
"My my, three travelers in one day. We're quite busy... Ah well, the Sun God's generosity is limitless, so we shall provide as we can."
"Three travelers? No, there are only two..."
Cray interrupted. "There was a man who was ambushed by Ishbalans at the gate, and held off an entire mob of them by himself. He's recovering in the quarters now."
"What? That's terrible... I've talked with the refugees many times, I don't see how they could do something like that... Are you sure it wasn't a mistake?"
"Rose." The bald man was speaking again. "You like to do good deeds, don't you?"
"Well, that's what you teach us, Father Cornello.."
"Unfortunately, not everyone sees Leto's decrees as clearly as you do. The Ishbalans, for example, follow a false goddess. This is why they were punished with the war. And it is why they resorted to desperate thievery against a lone traveller. Truly tragic."
"I... I don't know what to say. They seemed so sad, and they just wanted to find a home..."
"They have moved on now, child. They could not face their shame, and left our city. It is a pity, but one can only minister to the willing." Father Cornello folded his hands, and smiled in regret.
Cray nodded. "In any case, the traveller is recovering in the main quarters now. We can easily put your visitors across the hall."
"Oh, thank you! I'll go see how they're doing. And I'll check on the traveller, too. What's his name?"
"Guts, he said. He's... Well, you'll understand once you see him, how one man could hold off a mob."
"I see..." Rose started out the door. Then she stopped, and glanced back at the window behind Cornello! "What?"
Puck ducked.
"Is something wrong my child?" Asked Cornello.
"No, I just thought... For a second, I thought I saw a green glow behind you..."
The Father smiled. "Perhaps it was a sign. Yes, that sounds about right. I shall end my seclusion tomorrow, and once again give sermons on the temple steps. Thank you Rose, for spotting Leto's summons!"
"Oh, I... Yes, Father. Thank you, I shall be there! It will be good to see the Sun God's works again..."
And the door closed.
Puck frowned. That was no sign, that was me. I'll have to remember her face and stay out of her view...
He peeked back over. Cray was talking to Cornello now. "I'll let the Templars know that you're ending your seclusion, Father. We'll have a dozen guards at the Temple steps tomorrow."
"No need, Cray. No need at all. Now that the Ishbalans are gone, who here in this city remains to oppose Leto's works? Incidentally, thank you for carrying out Leto's will, in that matter."
Cray sighed.
"I don't like having to lie to Rose."
"It's not a lie, Brother Cray. The Ishbalans did move on of their own will. The fact that you and the Templars carried his message of what would happen to them if they did not move on... Well, that's incidental. Leto forgives you, this minor evasion."
Puck's ears perked up.
"In any case, rest easy. You've earned it, Brother Cray. Oh, and after you leave, let that... Guts, was it? Yes, that Guts fellow know I wish to see him for dinner."
"Leto's will be done." And Cray left.
Cornello smiled, and leaned back into the sun beam coming through the window. It blinded and disoriented anyone looking straight on into it at this time of day, which was why he had his desk situated the way it was. Easier to look someone over, when they couldn't look at you straight on...
"Well, that was interesting. I wonder just what "Leto" would have done to those scummy refugees?" Puck blinked. That's Cray's voice! But he just left...
Cornello whipped his head to the side, and looked at the open door to the adjoining suite. "What? Who?" A ring on his finger sparkled red in the light, as he put his hand on his cane...
"Relax, your secrets are safe, "Father." We have a mutual acquaintence, a certain woman in black. Well, black and red."
Puck peered around the windowframe, and saw... Cray. It was Cray's voice, it was Cray's features, but...
"You're not Cray." Cornello said. Oddly enough, this seemed to comfort him. He put the cane back behind his desk.
"You're with her, aren't you? Good. Well, you can let her know that I finally got the refugees out of here. Cray carried my words, and told them that Leto couldn't abide lawlessness in his chosen city. That for every day they remained, one of their children would be forfeit."
Puck gasped, and drew back as Cray glanced toward the window. Not sure if he can see me, and I don't want to take the chance! Who IS he?
Father Cornello lowered his voice. "Look, I've fulfilled our part of the bargain. But it's running low on power. I've had to go into seclusion for a month in "Meditation", to avoid wearing it out. I'm running low! Please, tell her that I need another to maintain my hold on this backwater city, otherwise..."
"Relax, you're too tense. Here's what you need."
And Puck watched, as the Cornello took something from the figure. With a cry of triumph, he fiddled with his red-stoned ring, and replaced the old stone with a new, larger one. "Perfect, perfect. Yes, I can feel the power in this one."
"Much good may it do you. Oh, and incidentally, you've got State Alchemists sniffing around."
"WHAT? I mean, what?" Cornello quickly lowered his voice.
"Yep, I saw them in the marketplace. A short blonde kid in a red coat and gloves, and a towering guy in full, spiked armor. They're the Elric brothers, and the pipsqueak's called the Fullmetal alchemist."
"State alchemists... Damn, damn. If they start showing people that I've been using Alchemy to make fake miracles..."
Puck gasped again.
"Oh, that's not all the trouble you've got." Cray's tone was faintly mocking.
"Now what?" Cornello asked.
"For one thing, you've got a spy!" Then there was a SNAP, of something like lightning in the room, and Puck glanced back in, poking his head up...
In time to see a large falcon winging straight at him, claws extended!
"AAAAAA!" Puck dropped backwards as the Falcon passed barely inches over him with a WHOOSH! Cornello blinked, and looked out the window, watching the Falcon as it cut back and forth, snatching at seemingly empty air... "What?" He asked, but the room was empty once more.
Puck dove through the statues of the cathedral, the falcon hot on his heels! Though he dodged through pillars, dove through screens and circled around three times, he couldn't seem to shake the persistent bird! Finally, he saw a familiar window, and dove through it shrieking, "GUTSGUTSGUTSGUTSGUTS-"
And he saw Guts raising his arm, the autocrossbow primed and ready, and HEARD the hiss of bolts as they sped toward him...
And past him, to fill the shrieking bird with bolt after bolt while it was illuminated in the sunlight of the window. The falcon was hurled backward, falling from the sky, a dozen quarrels ripping through its stringy flesh.
Puck hit the ground and sobbed, as Guts removed the crossbow, and stowed it in its pouch. Using the bedframe to pull himself up, he limped over to the window and looked down at a cemetary.
And at a dozen quarrels lying among the tombstones, with a small stain around them. No bird. No feathers. No sign that anything had fallen at all, besides the bolts.
He stumped himself back to the bed, and looked at Puck, who choked back his gasps of fear, and stared back at him.
"Guts, something is wrong here, and I don't know what it is, but from what I heard it's pretty bad..."