Reviews:
PrometheusDark: Thank you, I'm glad that you enjoyed the chapter, and we'll be seeing more of Voldemort's side of things soon. Happy Holidays.
demonic hellfire: Yep, the stage is set for future conflict when it comes to her being suspicious. She'll definitely be thinking twice if Griffith is as he appears to be.
RiDDick0011: I hope the reunion will be satisfying. Here's the new chapter for you.
Greyjedi449t: Glad to see you're looking forward. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to you too.
Necrogod: No problem, enjoy the next one.
Greer123: Thank you, I hope you enjoy this one.
drizzt: Nothing is set in stone yet, but I'm listening to what people are saying in regards to pairings and it will happen at one point.
Disclaimer- Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling and Berserk is owned by Kentaro Miura. I own nothing.
Three days had passed since Harry departed from the witches of the Spirit-Tree. The first night came with the addition of possessed animal corpses – a direct result of Harry no longer being under the protection of the charms that encompassed the spirit-tree. The spirits were relatively weak and Harry had made quick work of them with the sword gifted to him by Godo. Perhaps it was all in his head, but Harry felt a twinge of pain in his braced leg when fighting the spirits. Ivalera had helped to heal some of his injuries after he had occasionally messed up with a potion, but this was a different pain. Apostles had done this to him during the Eclipse, and their claws cut deep. The damage had been done by the time he had first arrived at the witches' home.
After the fight was over, Harry had heard the voice of Schierke speaking in his head. 'Your brand. Drawn the rune over the brand on your neck – like you did with the scar on your head.'
It helped. The rune was specifically designed to ward off evil presences, and any protection Harry could get to ward off possessive spirits he would take. With some ink he had taken before leaving, Harry drew the rune on over his brand. It wasn't permanent by any means – probably only lasting three to five at the most, but it was better than fighting for his life any night. Oh god! Harry suddenly realized. Guts was probably experiencing the same thing. The Swordsman had purposefully set off in search of fights, but everyone needed rest, and as strong as Guts was, he was still bound to feel the effect of deprived sleep. Who knows what kind of a mental state he would be in because of it; he had always been a bit of a grump before, but now… it wasn't a pleasant thought. If he ever met up with the swordsman, Harry would make sure to put the rune on him as well; whatever god there was knows he deserves a break.
Continuing along on his journey, Harry experienced frequent observations and mental conversations with Schierke. Apart from just being able to share thoughts with one another, the second part of thought transference allowed Schierke to see what Harry perceived in real time. She was unable to access memories (something Harry was extremely grateful for), but it was comforting to know that he wasn't fully alone on his travel. If he would pass by a farmstead or town, he could always count on Schierke to remark on what he was seeing.
'This is what others homes look like? Most of them are made of stone, is that how they are normally constructed?'
Most of the time, yeah. Harry had answered back. You'd be very culture-shocked if you ever saw a city like Windham. Although he couldn't see her face, Harry could basically picture the look of curiosity she must have adopted.
'Have you visited the city often then?'
The mercenary band I was in used to have a barrack hall set aside for us. She couldn't see it, but Harry recalled the memory of the day he had asked Guts for tips on swordplay. Corkus had been showing off about shooting arrows, and Judeau and Rickert had humored him. Nothing like how the spirit-tree mansion is.
'Hmm. I could try warging into a bird and see it that way. Mistress Flora and I have been doing that frequently of late.'
Because of that dream we all had? Harry inferred.
'Yes. She says that the world is in the process of changing; and based on what we all saw, it's safe to say it isn't going to be for the better.'
Further along the way, Harry encountered a herd of people all looking extremely tired and worn from their travel. Their eyes held a look of defeat that was different than that of those who experienced war but not unlike those who have seen death countless times. None of them looked to be in too good a state of health, so Harry hung back and allowed them to gain a bit of distance. When one of the elderly travelers began coughing in a more than sickly demeanor, women pulled their children away and two brutish men wearing the closest they had to armor seized the old man. A noose was made and they left the man hanging from the branch of a tree; they didn't even bother to cut him down after he had died.
'Oh my…' Schierke sounded close to being sick. It didn't come as a surprise to Harry; this was her first time seeing death outside of what nature offered. It served as a reminder that while Midland might host some kind-hearted people and wonders like the spirit-tree, it was not an ideal place to live. 'They killed him.'
He must have been sick with the plague, Harry assumed. Remember from the dream? A bunch of sick people were seeking refuge because of it.
'That means if you follow them, they might lead you straight to the Tower of Conviction.'
Yeah, they just might.
Harry made sure to keep his distance from the traveling band of refugees. If one of them suddenly became ill from the plague, he didn't want to be around when it happened. Instead, he took to following their tracks they left on the dirt road. He made a few pit stops along the way to rest up and try to catch a few fish in the nearby stream but always kept his eye open for any new development happening on the road ahead of him. The sun began to climb low into the sky, and a low rumble of thunder in the distance gave a clear indication that it was going to rain later tonight. It wasn't long before Harry felt the first rain drop hit the top of his head. And then the next one, and the next one – soon enough it was nearly an all-out downpour.
Throwing the hood of his cloak up, Harry strayed from the road and into the woods that lined the left side. The thick canopy of leaves and branches provided a better coverage than the already soaked fabric of his cloak's hood. Only a few drops of rain now fell down past the coverage of leaves, nowhere near the amount that it would be uncomfortable for him to try and catch up on a bit of sleep.
'Are you planning on retiring for the night?' Schierke's voice asked from within his head.
Just about. I might try for just a few hours of sleep, I want to be up and moving as soon as possible in the morning, maybe even get a bit of a head start.
'Alright, it's getting pretty late here too, Ivalera's already asleep.'
That sounds about right. Once I'm on my way again, I'll be sure to-, "Can't escape us…" the voice seemed to be spoken from above in the canopy of trees. Hurriedly, Harry felt at his neck where his brand was. Much to his dismay, he felt a thin trail of blood seeping out. The rainwater must have smudged the rune he had drawn over it – canceling out the protective enchantment. "You can't. You can't escape."
Harry drew his sword and readied his staff in his other hand, ready for the danger to come. "No escape. None at all." The voice sounded distant now, it had seemed closer at first, but it seemed to be moving a bit further into the forest. And Harry noticed the fire. The soft orange glow made a startling contrast to the dark, wet wood that expanded for as far as the eye could see. More concerning was that Harry heard laughing coming from where the fire was.
'What are people doing all the way out here?' Schierke wondered. 'Do many people live out in the woods who aren't mages?'
Not usually, no. They might be a group of hunters or travelers. They probably have no idea what's about to happen.
'You don't need me to tell you what to do,' Schierke said, and Harry quickly made his way towards the small fire, his feet making little to no sound over the rough forest grounds. As he neared the fire, Harry saw that a group of four men was sitting down, sharing a wineskin and jesting with each other.
"That did not happen," one said, disbelievingly. "How was it that none of us saw it?"
"It did," the biggest of the group said. "You were just too drunk to remember it."
"No we weren't," another denied. "You're always making up stories, trying to pull the wool over our eyes. We're not stupid you know."
"Never said that you were," the big one said. "All I'm saying is that you all have a problem with drinking that makes you forget what happens. How is that calling you all stupid?"
"It's the way you said it."
The big guy scoffed. "Now you sound like a woman saying that."
"It just doesn't make much sense," the first one further argued. "Someone with the plague does not just get cured of the plague. It can't be done. Either the person you saw was faking, or you're just pulling our legs."
"What reason would I have to do that?" the big one asked.
"Same reason you took more than your fair share from our last trade; because you can, and there's not a damn thing we can say to get you not to."
The fourth man, a small, hunched, and a scraggily looking man spat into the fire. "You better not try taking my share away this time, boss. I was the one who nabbed this one." His and Harry's attention was drawn to a dying tree where a young girl, perhaps Schierke's age, was tied up and gagged. "Any noble would pay a handsome reward for this one." Harry's blood ran cold when he realized what trade business these men were a part of.
The scraggily man pulled a knife from his belt and approached the bound girl. Her eyes widened in fear as the man put the tip of the knife on a level with her collarbone. He moved the knife downward, cutting the fabric that was her blouse and undergarment. Much to Harry's – and the man's surprise, the girl found some strength of resistance enough to rear back one of her feet and kick the man in his shin. "Yeaoww! The little twat kicked me!"
"That's what you get for not tying up her feet," the big leader chastised his subordinate. "Leave the girl be, she'll fetch a higher price if she remains unspoiled."
The scraggily man spat again. "Like hell, I can let a slight like that slide. Just one cut, that's all. Trees like this… they've seen all sorts of nasty stuff. People get hung from trees, maybe their memories stay after they pass. One girl with a few cuts – that's nothing! A lot worse has been done for a lot less." The knife crept ever closer to the girl.
Harry moved faster than the man's knife, he pointed his staff at the tree where the girl was tied and muttered an incantation. "Floaras tripedidas." One of the branches began to bend to his will, and struck the would-be assailant hard across the chest, sending him tumbling along the ground towards his buddies. The girl gave a muffled cry when she saw the branch move of its own accord.
The scraggily man coughed up a bit of blood and shook from the force of impact that had been delivered to him. "Shit!" the leader cursed. "Why did you have to go and spread that tree nonsense around for? Now you've gone and jinxed us!"
"D-didn't… mean to. Just… tried to scare her a bit…" he began to fade in and out of a conscious state of mind. The others tensed and drew their weapons. The fear of superstition had begun to take a hold of them.
Sensing an opportunity, Harry directed his attention to the fire that they had going and uttered his next enchantment. "Incendia engrogia." The fire sprang to life, shooting close to twenty feet into the air. The already startled bandits cowed ever further in their fright.
'They're terrified,' Schierke noted as well. 'Just one more spell should send them on their way.' That was Harry's initial plan until the rainwater began to take shape as it trickled down from the trees above. They looked distinctively like skeletons, but more malicious and with a pair of glowing eyes. The bandits were too startled to do anything, and the spirits quickly threw themselves over the men like a second layer of watery skin. Their eyes now glowed with the same possessive desire.
"Branded." They spoke as one unified voice. "There is no escape, branded." Their heads turned instinctively to where he was hidden in the shrubbery. They charged his position like dogs on a hunt. Acting fast, Harry stabbed one of the men through the foot with the blade at the blade at the bottom of his staff before stabbing him through the chest with his sword. The three others closed the gap between them and struck in tandem with one another.
Harry blocked the first blade with his own and had to duck as the two others narrowly passed over his head. Breaking the lock he had with the first blade, Harry cut the assailant across the midsection. The sickly smell of intestines flickered past Harry's nose. He was able to push the wounded possessed down, leaving his attention focused on the other two. The spirits possessing the men must have been relatively weak as Harry was able to knock aside their attacks with surprising ease. However, as weak as they were in combat, they proved to be strong when it came to taking hits. Being possessed, their physical bodies did not feel the pain they had been dealt.
Knowing that his attacks would only get him so far, Harry once again pointed his staff toward the dead tree, ready to utilize it through magic, but something seemed to be happening to it already. The branches were curling like fingers on a hand, the roots were pulling up, and spreading themselves to resemble feet, and the bark seemed to rearrange itself to look like the snarling face of a rabid beast. Through its movements, the girl that had been tied to it was able to escape from her bindings, but the rope restraining her hands behind her back and the gag in her mouth still remained. The now possessed tree reared back one of its branches to attack, and Harry had to hurry to pull the girl to the ground as the swipe passed over them.
I didn't know that they could possess trees, Harry angrily thought.
'They can possess any living thing,' Schierke informed. 'People are easy because they tend to be weak-willed, but for objects like trees, they need to be in a decaying state.'
The fire still burned through the night, and Harry focused his magic on it once again. Muttering the same incantation as before, the fire shot up, but this time arced its way to strike the trees wood. Harry was not blind to the fact that the girl next to him was looking on in wide-eyed wonder and fear at what she had just witnessed. The spell had the desired effect – the tree was now ablaze. The downside to it was the fact that the tree was not burning fast enough. With one of its blazing limbs, the tree looked to strike at them once again. Harry grabbed the girl by her arm and dragged her out of the way from the fiery attack. They had little time to relax as the two remaining possessed men began to approach.
Harry readied his sword to attack once more, but he felt the od of another presence, one that was coming from behind. It was dark, but not like the presence of the possessed; instead it was more of anger than anything else. "Get down!" Harry yelled to the girl as a giant sword passed over both of their heads. No; it was far too big to be called a sword, it was more a heap of raw iron. It got the job done however as both possessed men were cut in half with ease, their blood staining the thick, massive blade. And the man wielding the weapon was just as intimidating. From head to toe he was dressed in black, his left arm up to his elbow was a prosthetic, similar to the brace over Harry's leg. His right eye was closed, and his left eye open, giving the impression that he might have been winking. The light from the fire cast an almost sinister glow across his face, and the scar running horizontal over the bridge of his nose didn't help the image.
As the severed halves of the bandits hit the ground, he turned his gaze down to look at both Harry and the girl. His singular brown eye locked gazes with Harry's emerald green. And then he spoke, "You've gotten taller."
Harry was so caught off guard by surprise that he almost didn't even hear Schierke's voice talking to him in his head. 'You know this man?!'
In spite of having just fought for his and this girl's life, Harry couldn't help but smile just a bit. Yeah. I know him.
To further add to Harry's surprise, something small and blue flew out of Guts' satchel and fluttered in front of him and the girl. "Hi there!" the elf gave a friendly smile. "The name's Puck, nice to meetcha!"
'He's got an elf?' Schierke questioned. 'Just who is he?'
"Uh… hello yourself," Harry greeted back. The girl, however, seemed to stare at the tiny elf more in fear than amazement.
Noticing her distress, Puck went and pulled the gag from her mouth. "There! Now you're free to-,"
"Aaahhh!" she suddenly screamed. "Elf!" Puck blinked in confusion, clearly not used to this type of reaction. "Don't take me!" She tried to run off, but the sight of Guts chopping up the burning tree into sawdust stopped her in her tracks. The brutality in which he butchered the wood could almost be considered a work of art in its own right. She swallowed a notable lump in her throat when Guts turned his attention back to where they were.
"What are you doing, bug?" Guts asked Puck. He began to walk over to them, Dragonslayer still held firmly in his hand. She closed her eyes, probably fearing that she was next. She was visibly surprised when Guts continued past her.
"I didn't do anything but try and help!" the elf indignantly said. "She must be in shock, I wouldn't hurt a fly – well, you know, in a figure of speech." Puck pointed at Harry. "Ask him. He'll tell you."
Guts sheathed Dragonslayer behind his back, and he stood looking down at Harry – who looked up at him in return. Two years, that was how long it had been since they each set off in pursuit of their own goals. Harry had progressed far from just being able to talk to snakes, and Guts seemed to have gained a mastery over the Dragonslayer if his decimation of that tree was anything to go by. But Harry had felt the flow of od that had come from Guts, and it was dark. Granted, Guts had always been a brooding individual, this was something else. What does Harry even begin to say to him?
"You're still swinging that sword?" Harry finally settled on asking. It was lame, he knew that. But there was no point in asking if Guts was doing okay; the man had been going around hunting apostles, there would be no rest in that.
Guts didn't seem to think of the question in a negative light. "You got a new staff, I see." His tone was civil enough and his expression rather unreadable, but Harry could detect that he seemed unsure of what to say as well. "You did that with the fire?" Harry nodded his head. "You got better with it, with magic."
'He knows?' Schierke's voice asked from in his head.
He was one of the first to know.
'Wait… was he a member of that mercenary band of yours? He certainly looks the part.'
"It took some time," Harry admitted. "I can't complain about the payoff, though." His attempt at a light joke failed to even crack a smile or even a smirk from Guts. The swordsman seemed much more distant than Harry had ever remembered him being. Harry had to wonder how dark a path Guts had walked since they departed, how many apostles lay dead, just how much had time worked its way to fester the bitterness Guts had built inside himself.
As Harry exchanged a few more words with Guts, Puck had taken it upon himself to try and put the frightened girl at ease. "Look, I'm not going to hurt you, okay? I'm just an elf. Just a friendly, little elf." He tilted his head to the side to mimic a curious child and even made a few faces to show how un-threatening he was. "See? Could a face like mine really be bad?" much to his relief, the girl made no attempt to escape and didn't yell when he flew a bit closer to her face. "I'll even let you poke me in the belly. Go on! I'm a magical creature and you'll get good luck if you do." Slowly, her finger extended outward and poked Puck on his stomach. "Oof! Wow, a bit forceful, aren't ya?"
"S-sorry," she apologized. "Y-you're not going to eat me, are you?"
Puck's face morphed into one of disgust. "Eew! No! Look at my mouth, does it look like I have fangs?" he used his fingers to pull his cheeks apart and stuck his tongue out for comedic effect. She seemed to visibly relax when she knew that Puck was far from dangerous. Harry also watched the exchange between the pair. It seemed so strange how someone like Guts could have been traveling around with a fun-loving elf like that.
"Are you alright then?" Harry asked; his attention now on the girl they had saved. "I know that must sound like a pretty dumb question, but it has to be asked." She looked at him shyly before averting her eyes to the ground. She was embarrassed, and Harry could see why. The front of her dress was cut open from what the first bandit did with his knife, she was nearly exposed.
He made a move to give her his cloak to cover herself, but Guts had already tossed her his black cloak. "Cover yourself," Guts instructed her, his tone wasn't exactly the most warming, but the gesture seemed to go a long way for the girl as she draped it over her shoulders. It was much too big for someone her size and with her head poking out of the top it gave the distinct impression she was swimming in an ocean of darkness.
"Thank you… Mister Swordsman. And you too, Mister… er, are you too young to be called a mister?" She was talking, but the shock still seemed to be with her.
"Just Harry is fine," he told her. "What about you? Are you okay sharing your name?"
Her eyes darted between both Harry and Guts as if trying to determine their worth. "Jill."
Puck clapped his hands together in a joyous manner. "That's a neat name you got there! I don't think I've ever met a Jill before." The elf flew over to Guts. "Why not give your name? you don't want her calling you Mister Swordsman, do you?"
"She can call me whatever she wants," Guts said, rather uncaringly. "But if she wants to go by name, it's Guts."
'Is that actually his name?' Schierke wondered. 'That's rather odd. Why would his parents name him-?'
Schierke, Harry cut off her thought. I don't think it's best to wonder about Guts' past, alright? That was a topic that Harry actually knew very little himself. Guts rarely, if at all, talked about his life before the Band of the Hawk. The only things he would mention were that he had been a mercenary previously, occasionally he would say the name Gambino, but that was about it. If Gambino had been his father or a relative, Guts was always close-lipped about that. Whatever the case, Harry doubted the story was a pretty one.
Jill nodded her head in understanding . "Well, thank you, Mister Guts. And you too, Harry. I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but I'd rather preferred that we hadn't met under these conditions."
Puck brushed her concern aside. "Don't you worry about all that. Those guys were bad news. But what were you even doing out here to begin with? Did they kidnap you?"
"At Puck's question, Jill became visibly anxious. "There was just… some trouble back in my village. I didn't want to be caught in the middle of it, so I took off into the woods. It probably wasn't the soundest logic, but I panicked. I didn't know anyone would be out in these woods on account of the Elves of the Misty Valley."
"Misty Valley?" Puck was confused, but interested. "You mean there's more of my kind around here?"
"I hope not," Guts quietly said.
Jill shook her head. "No. Not like you. If you were one of the Misty Valley Elves, I probably would have been taken to the valley. The same with all the other children."
Now Puck just looked plain offended. "What?! Elves kidnapping people?! I don't buy it for a second! Us elves are some of the nicest you'll ever meet!" he finished with an indignant pout.
"Yeah, you're real nice until you become annoying," Guts sarcastically joked.
"Puck does have a point," Harry stuck up for the elf. "Elves aren't really violent creatures."
"Oh, and you've met them?" Guts asked.
"Well, I met one." Harry specified. "She was a bit stuck-up, but not malicious."
'I don't think Ivalera would appreciate that remark.'
She's not listening in, is she?
'She's already asleep. Count yourself lucky.'
"Whoa! You met another elf like me?" Puck became curious at the aspect of another elf living in Midland. "And I thought I was all by my lonesome in this strange new world. Who would have thought that I'd have competition?" he looked at Guts with contemplation. "You don't think it could be one of those apostles, do you?"
"Not unless you want to believe that some of your kind of capable of doing harm," Guts told the elf. "But I'm not about to deal with that now. I'm too tired, that fight woke me up from my nap."
"Um," Jill began, clutching the hem of Guts' cloak tighter around her. "If you were all agreeable to it, I could offer you a place to stay in my village. There's this old watchtower just outside the wall, no one ever uses it anymore because it's too worn down, and you could stay there for the rest of the night."
"See, Guts," Puck smiled at his companion, "things just might be turning around for us. We met someone new, you met someone you already knew, and you'll get to sleep with a roof over your head."
"Well… the roof is mostly caved in," Jill shyly admitted.
"Sounds better than what he's used to," Puck seemed unperturbed. "What do you fellas say?"
"I'd be fine with it," Harry said. "Guts?" the swordsman's singular eye passed over each of them.
"Fine." Guts decided.
The four of them traveled out of the forest and back to the main road Harry had been on previous. Instead of traveling the way he had been going, Jill led them down a side path which led to a new road. This one would end up taking them up a rocky hill where Jill's village resided on the top. Even from a distance, the village did not appear impressive by any means. The stonework lining the outer wall was in near rubble, and only a few pillars of smoke drifted up from some of the rooftops within. Even the sign with the name of the village had broken off leaving the name as an unknown.
Jill pointed to the one structure that was located outside of the near ruined wall. "There it is – the watchtower."
"Not to sound offensive, but this place has seen better days." Harry might have been too blunt, but coming up with a complement seemed a task in of itself.
Luckily, Jill didn't seem offended. "You're not wrong. Before I was born, a group of bandits attacked and raided. We never got the funds make the repairs. The nobles and king decided the war with Chuder took priority over fixing one old village."
Guts pushed open the door to the tower for their group to enter. She had been right; a large portion of the roof had caved in, leaving the floor covered in the rubble. Some of the wall had fallen away as well making it look like an additional window was going to be constructed at a later point. A few furnishings like a broken mirror had been pushed against the far side. Puck was the first to comment.
"Yeah, you can definitely make yourself comfortable in a place like this."
The swordsman shrugged in nonchalance. "It'll do."
"Thanks for showing us," Harry thanked Jill, who nodded. She still kept Guts' cloak wrapped around her.
"So, you will be staying here for the night?" she asked them both.
Guts slumped against the wall and slid down so he was resting in a sitting position; Dragonslayer was propped next to his side. "Does that answer your question?"
Puck lightly chastised him. "She didn't have to show us this place. At least try to play nice."
"I see." Jill put a finger to her lower lip. "If it isn't too much to ask, could I perhaps spent the night here as well?"
Harry looked at her with uncertainty. "You don't want to go back to your home? I'm sure your parents will be worried about you." Really, after just having been saved from bandits, Harry assumed she would want to return home as soon as possible.
"My mother would be… but I can explain it to her in the morning." She tried to hide it, but Harry heard the unspoken plea. Something didn't sit right with him, and he had a sinking suspicion as to what. Having been raised by people like the Dursley's, he knew when something was off.
'She didn't mention her father,' Schierke observed.
Yeah, I noticed.
Jill continued as she had before. "I know that it might sound a bit… inappropriate to ask to spend the night, but I wouldn't mind, really."
Guts gave something that was close to an eye-roll. "Do what you will, you're already here." He nearly ignored the sigh of relief from the young girl.
"Thank you, Mister Guts." She sat on the ground to his left, and Harry sat to the left of her. She looked between the two of them, unsure if either of them was going to speak, or perhaps if she should be the first, maybe it would be best if she say nothing at all. She finally settled on talking with Harry first. "Thank you as well, Harry. If you don't mind me asking, was that magic you did back there?"
"Oh, well…"
'There's no point in trying to deny it,' Schierke mentally spoke. 'She knows about elves and if there's an apostle terrorizing this village, I doubt she'd think badly of a magic user who saved her life.'
Wait and you saying its okay for me say yes? No point in trying to lie?
'Don't tell her about the spirit-tree or anything, just answer her question. But keep it vague.'
"Yeah, actually," Harry told her. "It was. You're not too freaked out by that are you? Not going to run off and bring back a mob?"
"No!" she said, seemingly appalled at the thought. "No, I wouldn't do that. I only asked because, a friend of mine used to talk about being able to do magic. That and being an elf; like the story of Peekaf. Do you know the Peekaf story?"
Harry shook his head. "No. What's it about?"
"Well, the story goes that a boy was born an elf to human parents. He was always ostracized because of how he looked, so he ran away to the Misty Valley where all the real elves lived."
Harry was going to ask a question, but the voice of Schierke prevented him from doing so. 'Sshh! Don't interrupt. I want to hear this.'
"When he met with the elves, they told him that he wasn't actually an elf, and that his parents were who they claimed to be. Distraught, Peekaf ran home only to discover much time had passed since he left. He had only been gone a few hours, but time in the valley moves faster than it does outside. Whole decades had passed, and everyone he knew growing up was gone, even his parents."
"That story's a downer," Puck shook his head in disapproval.
"That's just life sometimes," Guts commented without looking at the rest of them. "You think you want something only for it to come crashing down around you. It's accurate if you ask me."
'He's certainly cheerful.'
"Rosine – my friend, thought so too," Jill said. "It was her favorite, even if it was depressing. One day she went off to find elves in the Misty Valley, she never came back." They didn't talk much after that, rather they just sat in silence. Jill eventually drifted off to sleep, and a sudden thought crossed Harry's mind. He silently cursed himself for not thinking of it sooner. He grabbed a shard from the broken mirror and took out the container of ink he had in his satchel. He began drawing the rune over his brand, lest more spirits visit them during the night.
"Hey, Guts," Harry looked over to the swordsman. "I discovered a way to temporality block the effects of the brand. I can draw a rune over yours like I did mine. If you're okay with that." Harry knew Guts had some previous aversion to being touched, he had seen that back during their days with the Hawks.
Guts momentarily eyed the ink on Harry's neck. He craned his neck. "Do what you have to." Harry knelt down and began to draw the symbol. Now that he was up close to Guts, Harry could see numerous new scars that doted the man's flesh. He had scars on his neck, on his arms, and under his chin. His journey had not been a pleasant one.
"All set," Harry said, going back to his previous spot. "It'll be good for about three days, and then it has to be reapplied."
"Noted," Guts nodded, his eye more focused on the entrance to the tower. It must have been a habit – sleeping with one eye open. This would probably be the first restful night Guts had in two years. "You're different now."
"Huh?"
"You've grown," Guts said, still not looking at him. "When I met you, you were a stuttering, frightened kid who was so unsure of himself that the only thing I thought for sure was that you would be going to an early grave." He paused as if to wait to see if Harry would try to argue that point. He didn't, and Guts continued. "You're more confident now; you know what it is that you want, you sought what you set out for. Tell me about it."
It was hard to tell if Guts actually wanted to hear about Harry's travel, or if he just wanted to hear a familiar voice. Whatever the case, Harry obliged his request. "It was like I thought; there was a place out there with other mages."
As expected, Schierke's voice popped in to give a word of warning. 'Look, Harry, I know that you trust this man, but please, please be careful with what you tell him.'
"They were the ones who taught me all of what I know about magic. There's so much more than what there actually is. It would take all night to tell you all about it. But, yeah, it's thanks to them that I have a staff. Flora was a great teacher, and her apprentice – Schierke became a good friend over time." Perhaps unsurprisingly, Schierke's voice did not speak up.
Guts nodded. "Good."
"What about you?" Harry asked. "How have things been going in your apostle hunt?"
"If I found one, I killed it," was what he answered with. "One fight after the next, it wasn't anything too special. You at least got to learn something useful."
"I suppose so, yeah."
'You suppose?'
"I mean, yeah, I did learn a lot. You saw a bit of it back in the woods."
Guts just slightly inclined his head. "What's that around your finger?" Harry looked at his hand to where some of Schierke's green hairs were tied around his finger.
'He noticed?'
Guts might have one eye, but it's hard to get anything by him. "They're hairs," said Harry. "They're for a part of magic. Schierke gave to me before I left, it's to keep in touch."
"Hmm."
"And, before I set out once again, Schierke and I had the same dream. We saw this tower – the Tower of Conviction, the plague that's going around, people are flocking there like crazy to seek refuge. And… I saw Casca tied to a stake." Perhaps for the first time that night, Harry had Guts's full attention.
"What?" his voice was low, sounding almost like a dog's growl, but it was one of concern rather than anger. "Casca… she's with Rickert, Erica, and Godo."
"I know," Harry said, trying to calm him down before he did anything reckless. "But Erica is just a child, Godo's an old man, and Rickert would be busy working the forge all day. She could have wandered off."
"And you saw this in a dream?"
"Schierke and I both did, yes."
Guts' face seemed to be teetering on the verge of contorting into concern or anger. "The Tower of Conviction, that's what you said?"
"It is," Harry feared he had just woken a sleeping beast, but Guts didn't seem entirely focused on Harry, or anyone for that matter.
"Tower of Conviction," Guts repeated to himself. "Tower of Conviction." He chanted it like a prayer for the rest of the night until sleep finally took him.
For once, Guts did not dream of his and Casca's corrupted child. No, instead his thoughts were filled with Casca, bound and helpless tied to a stake. Her eyes were filled with disregard to the flames that were licking at her feet, slowly climbing up to the rest of her body. Two voices seemed to be calling to him, one was of Nosferatu Zodd. The great beast of an apostle snarled down at the sight of Casca burning.
"A death you will never be able to escape."
The second came from the Skull Knight, sitting tall and strong atop his skeletal mount. "Struggle, for that is in your nature."
The way that the smoke billowed upward partly covered the sight of the looming tower behind all of them. From what he could see, the smoke made the tower look like a giant open hand reaching up for a darkened sky.
His singular eye blinked, and Guts woke. It was morning; the somewhat obscured rays of sunlight streaming through the broken roof let him know that. He made a move to rise, but a weight on his legs stopped him short of doing that. The girl- Jill, must have shifted in her sleep as her head was now rested on his legs. Soft breaths escaped from her mouth as she curled into his cloak further. It was, it was… he reached out a hand to push her off, but stopped himself.
Why? Why stop himself from moving this girl? If he had known she needed something to snuggle up to during the night he would have told her to go back to her home already. She was clearly an idiot if she was this comfortable resting her head on a stranger's lap, what was he to care about some stupid girl resting on him. It was a nuisance, one that got his aversion to being touched flaring up once again. He was younger than this girl when that insecurity first came about thanks to Donovan. Just force her off, it doesn't matter, she'll wake eventually. And his hand went back down to his side. Guts stared off toward the door to the tower, more frustrated with himself than this stupid little girl.
From out of his satchel, Puck flew. The elf stretched his tiny limbs and glittering blue wings. "Ahhh! Finally, a night when we could get some shut-eye. Am I right, Guts? Guts?" he took notice of Guts' predicament. "I knew you had a soft side buried under all that ang-!"
Guts caught the blue pest in his hand. "Careful. You wouldn't want my good mood to disappear, would you?" the elf managed to shake his head. "Good." He let Puck go free. "Wake up Harry, this brat needs to go back to her house already."
Puck coughed a few times before glancing over at where Harry was. "I think he already is." Guts inclined his head to where the mage was to his left. Indeed, Harry had his eyes open and was staring at Guts with a worried expression, probably because of what he had done to Puck. It wasn't a big deal, of course. The blue elf was used to his treatment, this was nothing compared to being thrown into a puddle.
Thankfully, at last, Jill elicited a wake-up yawn, and she began to stir. As soon as he felt her head move, Guts rose abruptly, causing Jill to act fast to catch her balance. "Oh, good morning, Mister Guts; Harry."
"Yeah, morning," Harry rubbed a bit of sleep from his eyes.
"So now that we're all awake, you ready to go back to your home, Jill?" Puck asked the girl.
"Yes," she answered. "I've been away far too long, I suppose. I don't want to cause any more trouble than necessary."
"We can explain what happened to your mother," Harry offered. "Well, without mentioning magic or anything of that sort."
She still seemed a little hesitant. "If you believe that would help."
Inside the village was just as unimpressive as it appeared on the outside. Unkempt vines grew over the sides of some of the homes and shops, an indication that either the owners were not there any longer, or they had simply stopped caring. The fountain in the square held water only two inches deep, it was dirty and green with algae, the birds didn't even seem to want to bathe let alone drink from it. No one seemed to be out and about, the exception being one old woman sitting outside her house with a spinning wheel. She only gave a passing glance to Harry and Jill, not paying much attention to Guts.
Jill had told them that the people here were deathly afraid of elves because of the attacks from the Misty Valley, so Puck had been ordered to stay confined to the inside of Guts' satchel. Harry suspected that he had no qualms about that. Peculiarly enough, Harry caught a glimpse of a behelit from inside. Guts caught him staring and told him it was from one of the apostles he had encountered.
"This is it," Jill said, stopping in front of a small house. "Thank you both again." She had barely finished knocking on the door when it was flung open by a woman who had to be no older than thirty. She looked almost like a carbon copy of Jill except her hair was not a brown like her daughter's.
"Jill!" she exclaimed, grabbing her daughter and pulling her in for a hug. "Thank goodness! When you ran off… I thought you had been taken by elves!" Jill hugged her mother back.
"No. There was no elves mother."
"And what is the meaning of this cloak?" she ran her hand along the dark fabric that covered her daughter. "How did you rip your clothes?"
"I… ran into some trouble," Jill chose to leave what kind of trouble unmentioned. "These two saved me and escorted me back." Her mother's eyes were lined with moisture and she looked between both Guts and Harry.
"Thank you, Sirs!" she made a move to kiss the both of Harry's hands as thanks. "You have done our family a great service. Guts pulled his hand back before she could grab it.
"…Sure."
"You don't have to thank us for that," Harry explained to the overjoyed parent. "We just did what any decent people would have done."
'Don't let it go to your head.' He could almost see Schierke rolling her eyes. 'Where's her father anyway?'
I'm pretty sure that's a touchy subject.
"Mother… is father home?" she sounded almost hopeful.
Jill's mother shook her head. "No, he's with some of his friends. You know how he gets when he's worried."
Not looking for his daughter when she went missing, Harry noted.
"I do," Jill said.
"Won't you come in?" she offered them. "Jill, you go change into your other clothes, you gentlemen is welcome to some of the stew that I made. It's the least I can do to show our thanks."
"Gentlemen?" Harry heard Guts mutter.
"Please, I insist."
Inside the house, much like the rest of the village didn't have much to offer. It was about as unimpressive as the outside would suggest. There was a single kitchen area that shared a space with the living lounge, the only two doors must have led to the bedrooms, as Jill disappeared in one to change out of her torn clothing.
The mother sat them down at the table and presented the both of them with a bowl of stew. It could have used a bit of salt, in Harry's opinion, but he wasn't a master cook himself, so who was he to judge. A hot meal was a hot meal. "Is it to your liking?" she asked.
"Yeah, it's good," Harry replied.
Guts barely touched his but said, "Yeah, good."
Jill came out of her room with a new set of clothes, Guts' cloak folded in her arms. "Your cloak, Mister Guts." He wordlessly accepted it back and draped it over his shoulders.
They ate in silent for a while before some laughing from outside drew most of their attention. The door to the house opened to reveal a group of three men. Two of them stayed in the threshold while the third hobbled in on a wooden cane. He wasn't a tall man, he was actually quite short, and had unkempt stubble growing as a beard. Jill's mother put on a very strained smile.
"Zepek, dear, you're back." This must be Jill's father then. "I've got terrific news; Jill's back!"
His bloodshot eyes landed on his daughter. "So she is. Gave us a good scare, didn't you?"
"I didn't mean to, Father." She was uncomfortable, but didn't appear to want to show weakness in front of him. One of the men in the doorway laughed.
"Good to see you back, Jill." She seemed more nervous now that this man was talking to her. "Sorry if I gave you a bit of a scare last night, I didn't know you would run off on me. You know how I get when I have a few drinks. Haha!"
'Does he mean what I think he does?' she did not sound happy at all.
Yeah, Harry's finger's clenched around the table knife. I think he does.
Zepek waved the concern aside. "Don't worry about it. We all go a little crazy when we have a few drinks in us."
"Convenient excuse," Harry didn't try to keep his voice all that low. Zepek just now seemed to take notice of the two strangers in his home.
"Who are these people?" his tone was suspicious.
"They saved Jill, dear. They escorted her back not too long ago. I was just extending our hospitality." She smiled, but the twitch at her lip suggested she was nervous she had said something wrong.
Zepek adopted a condescending tone. "Honey, you're the light of my life, but you know how tight our funds are. When you go around "extending hospitality" you're cutting us short. We need to save money for the things that matter most."
"Like your drinking?" Jill's voice came out much louder than she intended.
His jowl twisted up in a sneer. "What did you say? What did you say to me? You think you have the nerve to run off like you did, bring back a couple of deviants, and insult me in front of my friends?"
"Were you out with your friends when your daughter was missing?" Harry cut in. "If your answer is a "yes," then you have no right to tell her off."
"The hell do you know about being a parent?" Zepek barked at him. "Don't think I haven't noticed that my daughter is wearing different clothes than what she was last night. It makes a father wonder what you two did before returning her home."
"Zepek!" his wife cried. "That is a bit uncalled for. These men have been nothing but – eep!" she involuntarily flinched when Zepek raised his cane. The anger Harry was feeling toward this man started to intensify, and he could tell Schierke was having much of the same thoughts. Harry could tell that despite Guts' lack of reaction that he didn't much care for the man either.
"Don't you start," Zepek threatened. "You live a sheltered life in here, you don't know how twisted people are out there."
"You must be speaking from experience then," Guts remarked. "It takes one to recognize one after all. Though I doubt a cripple like you has seen much beyond the tavern of this village. Why not go back there and drink to your glory days? Spend your funds like they were meant to."
"You insult me in my house?!" Zepek yelled causing spittle to go flying. "I'm a fucking war veteran, you cur! My injury is a sign of my duress, and I won't stand here and take that from some-!" Guts kicked the cane from Zepek, causing the small man to fall to the floor.
"So don't stand," Guts glowered down at the man. "It's your home, take a load off." The two men in the doorway appeared unsure of what to do. "Why not invite your friends inside? You can all enjoy yourselves in your rightful spot.
'He's a bit extreme.'
You don't know the half of it.
'No, for this situation, it may be for the best.'
Guts got up from the table. "But I can see when I've overstayed my welcome." He looked at Harry. "You coming?" Harry sat up as well. The two men in the threshold parted as they exited and Harry "accidently" brought the blade attached to his staff down through the foot of the man who had made the remark to Jill.
"Yeoww!" he cried in pain.
"Oops, didn't see you there." He followed after Guts. It wasn't until they got back to the abandoned watchtower until they heard the voice calling after them.
"Wait!" it was Jill.
"What do you want?" Guts asked. "Is daddy being mean to you?"
She fiddled with her thumbs. "No. I just wanted to say, thank you for what you both did back there. My father gets like that sometimes."
"All of the time?" Harry corrected.
"Yes, a great deal of the time. What you did back there, maybe it'll make him rethink how he treats others."
"You shouldn't than us," Guts told her. From his satchel, Puck flew to freedom.
"What do you mean, Guts? You showed that punk what for."
"The man's an abusive asshole," Guts explained. "Harry and I just emasculated him in front of his family and friends. Chances are he'll be an even bigger pain. That's why I say don't say thanks; your life isn't any easier because of it. You want him to stop, do it yourself."
Puck didn't seem convinced. "Well that just sounds like… elves!"
'Elves?'
"I hear elves!" Puck looked up to the sky. What appeared to be a mass of insects flying overhead were being guided by a child sized being, feminine in appearance with a luminous green color to her body and pair of butterfly wings. Jill looked up on them in fright.
"That's them. Those are the Elves of the Misty Valley."
A few miles away, the traveling party of the Holy Iron Chain Knights rode along the main road. Farnese, the leader of the group of noble knights, was insistent on following the trail of the Black Swordsman. For two years, the Holy Iron Chain Knights had followed the trail of rumors and stories that they heard about this mysterious swordsman. He had been a topic of controversy ever since they came upon that lake of blood. If he was the Hawk of Darkness, or bore some relation to it, he had to answer to the Holy See. And if the rumors were to be believed, wherever he went, death was quick to follow.
There had been tales of demons and monsters involved in nearly all of the stories, but Farnese knew that they were just that; tales. Common folk would say many things if they thought they might get something for it. The most recent of stories had sightings that the Black Swordsman had been traveling north, straight to where a portion of the plague had broken out. Some of the men under her command had been hesitant about traveling to such an area, but her two most loyal subordinates supported her all the way.
The first of them was Sir Azan, a former hedge knight whose most notable deed had been holding up traffic over a bridge so an old man could cross without hurry. He was an older knight to be sure, and his righteous attitude often annoyed some of the other knights, but he followed her command to the T.
The second was her personal attendant, Serpico. A youth of her age who detested gory sights, but had been her companion since childhood. He usually kept his eyes closed which often begged the question of how he could see, but it had never impeded his ability to serve and was just deemed as a quirky trait of his.
"The north really does offer some of the best air," Sir Azan cheerfully commented.
"That it is," Serpico agreed. "But I can't say much for all these bugs." He swatted a fly away, careful not to kill it.
"Bugs are the least of worries," she told her two attendants. "The query of our search is close."
She could see the two look at each other in a similar fashion. "You seem awfully sure of that, Lady Farnese." Serpico told her.
Farnese briefly looked over her shoulder. "Of course. I believe it as I believe in the Holy See; the Black Swordsman is close."
A/N: Happy New Year! I promised that I would have this chapter up by then, so thank you for reading.
