Devil and Candlemaker

"Everyone knows about heroes, adventurers, nobles; people that matter. No one remembers the name of those shunned, or their descendants. Especially when their crimes were severe enough to sell them to Melromarc's enemies. Don't worry, though. Master has only one directive for me: serve the Shield Hero, kill any that wish him harm." F/F romance, slavery, dark themes.

All warnings placed in chapter 1 are in place for the duration of the story. I won't bog this down by placing anything more than chapter-specific warnings here.

Second Arc—Everything is a game, you need only decipher the rules

Chapter Twenty—First Lyght

8-8

Nothingness. Only dark as far as one can perceive. A blue dot, on the very edge, blinks into existence. Soon, another; red. And another, this one white. Dots spread as if some contagion. Some fuzzy, as if out of focus, others sharp as sewing needle's tip.

I'm engulfed in, what I can only describe as, night's sky. Only, no clouds. No wind breathes to disturb this tranquil void.

In the middle, there's a…lack. No matter how all else is populated by glowing stars. A single circle before me is utterly without.

That nothingness blinks; it parts. Orb clefts scaled curtains, its centre itself a slit. It almost seems an eye, though like none I've yet experienced.

So, you're the one.

Words assault me from all sides, yet somehow welling up from within me. They loop over themselves, as if the tongue that forms them is a stone cast along water's surface, and the ripples therefrom are resultant sounds.

The wrinkle in my plan.

Tongue thrashes in my mouth, but I've neither air to breathe the words, nor lips through which they ought pass.

All my fun ruined, by one so insignificant and fearful.

Try as might, I say nothing, move nothing, change nothing. As if I'm but a fly on the wall and the dragon residing here notices me.

I've an offer. Stray from your current path, and it is all forgiven. Defy me, however.

Stars shatter, wreathing this place in a radiance I can scarcely comprehend. The sheer force tosses me back, down…away. A haunting laughter, malevolent beyond comprehension, haunts me in my spiral. A familiar sense of dread, one that's hounded me since my arrival in Melromarc, seeps into my very bones.

There will be no further warning. Obey.

8-8

We sit in the library, just Stellar and I, with her coursework strewn over the mahogany table. Her sclera are as pink as her irises just now, with how long we've been going over everything—or the late hour, that might be a contributing factor.

"You should see it, mama!" Stellar has stars in her eyes as her hands cup her cheeks, no doubt envisioning it once again. I sip my tea, quite enjoying how distracted she is, even though we should really get back to her history lessons. "The spire itself is impressive, but…it's the library. Three whole floors with nothing but floor to ceiling shelves. And they're all stacked. With grimoires, with recipes, with magic theory, with history."

I have two bookworms for children. There are worse fates. Instead of commenting on as much, I sip at my tea again.

"Ooh, and Headmistress gave me a wand. Says it's for beginners, but it's mine!" She produces the simple wooden wand, plucking it from her dress's sleeve, just as I stow my fans, glowing the tip of it to show she's not been idle whilst I rest. "Look it, mama! I've already gotten so good with it!"

My face is split by a grin, enjoying her enthusiasm more than anything. "I'm proud of you, Stellar."

My baby glows, so bright the sun seems but a candle beside her.

"Ooh!" She jilts upright, a thought crossing her eyes. "That reminds me. Can I invite Chazzy over?"

I tilt my head to one side. That isn't a name I'm familiar with.

"He's one of my classmates, but he's so hopeless sometimes." Stellar deflates, and sighs for good measure. "Anyway. He struggles with reading. Keeps getting things all turned around, for some reason. So it helps if I read the lessons to him."

I blink.

"I know, it's weird. But I have this habit of reading out loud when I don't understand something. And he kinda…well, he thought I read it wrong, because…the point is." Stellar holds up a finger, as if to discipline herself? Or I, though I can't imagine having done something warranting such.

My eyes narrow. She's been chatty since arriving home from class, but I've never experienced her so roundabout with getting to the point. Is…something there?

"We figured out that my reading it helps him study, and I do it out of habit anyway. But I hate being in the library after school—there are only…" She shakes her head again, as if chasing the thought of whoever is usually there. "Anyway. He's kinda too embarrassed to invite me to his, so can I invite him here?"

I can hardly imagine him taking well to that, yet I cannot fault her for hoping. "Alright."

Stellar squeals, so excited, her face alight with every happy emotion swelling up within her. Definitely something there. She dashes off without another word.

Sigh. Better excitable than morose, but still.

I reach across the table for her tomes, tugging them over to my side. History's always been interesting—fascinating really. Part of the reason I wouldn't hear of any but I helping her with this subject.

I flick it back to the index, curious what she need cover in her first term.

Melromarc: a history. Hmm. Fitting, I suppose. Though we've mostly been delving into the thirty-nine regions and the Houses that govern them, at least tonight.

Hmm. Chapter Twelve—House Lyght. What say the historians of our House?

I thumb through to page ninety-seven. Founder, Luna Lyght, yes. Warrior and first Dragonslayer, too true. Rabier incident? Yes, Highness's summary of the events was most scathing in regard to House Ra…

Fyrst Lyght, First Daughter to Crown Princess Evyning Lyght, was engaged to Baron Idol Rabier, Second Son to Earl Vayn Rabier, of Melromarc. Childhood sweethearts? But Idol was a duke…? Who'd he ma…rry…?

"Mama!" I almost jump out of my skin. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Stellar hugs the surprise right out of me, and kisses my brow for good measure.

8-8

I hobble along, to the top of the stairs. All I can do is glare, though I dare not say if it's the stairs or the lingering whispers of that horridly lucid dream that trouble me so. I cannot remain idle. I must train, must grow stronger. Must—

"You should be in—"

"Walking is healthy. And it trains my bones to take the weight again." This stinks to high heaven of things I cannot even begin to fathom. It all does.

"But you should be in bed." Sigh.

"I'm fine."

"It's only been two weeks, Mistress." Not listening to a word of it, Hope hugs my elbow and tugs, hoping to gently guide me away from the stairs before I attempt that mountain just now. "I know it's frustrating. But you have to build up your strength again. Please?" Sigh. "If not for me, then for your babies?"

A lopsided smile peeks out, whether I want it to or not. My babies. I'll never get tired of hearing that. "Speaking of…?"

Hope blushes even as she beams. I hobble along, allowing her to guide me right back to bed.

"Mama! Jeez, you're too stubborn for your own good!" Crayn gets on my case, storming our way from the water closet. "I just had to tinkle." He comes right for me, takes my free arm and slings it over his shoulder to offer what support he can. Sweet, but…

Sigh. Plate armour clanks and rattles, louder and louder, as two pairs of footfalls skip up the stairs. Sigh.

Lyraynna and Zaan swoop in, shooing my head healer and my Crayn. Zaan scoops me up off my feet; Lyraynna walks ahead to open the door for easier access. Between the four of them, I'm properly banished to my bed once again. Only, Crayn gets a look in his eyes.

Lyraynna pulls back my covers properly, moving well out of the way so Zaan can work. I'm carefully, oh so gently, set on the filolial mattress, far enough back that I sit up properly. Lyraynna comes the second he pulls away and arranges my sheets so I'm tucked in, and arranges my pillows so that I'm too comfortable to have that as an excuse.

"Mr Zaan. Could I bother you to summon Ms Deela and Luna?" Crayn himself brings my lap-desk and sets it before me, its legs arranged to either side of my thighs, and rushes over to my personal bookshelf, already perusing the books that might keep me entertained.

"Third shelf from the bottom." I might as well help, before he just picks at random. "Furthest to your left. My grimoire is marked with the family crest." Crayn carefully plucks it from between he tomes and brings it for me. "And have you been tested? To see what your affinity is?"

"I have." Crayn lays my grimoire on my lap-desk, careful to set it facing the right way for me. "Dark and Light. Dunno much about either."

"I can teach you dark spells." I roll my eyes, giving him a lopsided smile. "And this way you can keep a closer eye on me?"

Nothing but chuckles, that's what I get. Even as Zaan retreats to fetch yet more backup to keep me in bed. Sigh. At least the allow me to sit in the library, to help Stellar and Crayn study.

8-8

"I was quite surprised." Crayn shakes his head, still blushing as he recalls the turn of events. "One second, I'm reeling in the biggest fish I ever caught, the next, there's this fox girl stealing my catch!" And yet, he blushes some more.

"Was she at least a pretty thief?"

Crayn squirms in his chair, his face glowing hotter than a roaring forge. I see.

"Well. What happened?" We really should focus on his alchemy coursework, but I'm rather enjoying the tale.

"I ran after her, o'course!" Crayn shakes his head, trying to dislodge whatever emotions besiege him. "Caught up to her near the market, as she was…" His countenance changes. Instead of embarrassed or flustered, he's rather troubled.

"Hmm?"

"I found her giving the fish to some kids. They…they looked hungry." Crayn looks away, no doubt to hide how much that hurts. "I," he blushes again, thinking back on the thief, no doubt, "couldn't stay mad at her. Not when she…"

I nod. "So you'll be going fishing after class again?"

"Unn." Crayn perks up.

"And you won't be chasing your thief down?"

"Uh uh." He shakes his head. "I fish 'cause I like it. And if she's doing some good…?"

"Hmm? Well. Why not take some loaves of bread and ask your thief to take those as well?"

Crayn beams, loving the idea.

8-8

I blink.

Head tilts to one side.

I blink again.

Vision is the same, if tilted. The angle does little to change it. Logically, that makes sense, but at the same time, it doesn't?

Zaan eases me into my armchair, by the roaring fireplace in the main library. Instead of the tomes I'd hoped to engross myself in, the servants cart in dummies. Wooden dummies one would use for sewing, or armour displays. Four. Six. Ten. Two dozen in all.

They leave without a word, each sporting a smile brighter than every other they've shown me. One by one, they each return with…dragon scales. Only, not in any fashion I've ever seen them. Some rounded, others curved, others still bent and strung, yet others affixed to long and thick sticks.

"That looks like armour." I had hoped to sound more…intellectual. Given how utterly dumbstruck I am, it's more than I could rightly hope for. "And weapons?"

"Very perceptive, Wife." Éclair enters, bearing a short but wide chest, and lays it on my lap. "I've taken the liberty of having the dragon's hide fashioned into armours and weapons for you. Including."

She pops open the chest, revealing twinned daggers and twinned fans.

"Go on."

With trembling hand, I reach in and grab one of the fans, checking my stats. Damage's cap of five-scores of nines, reached.

Setting it down, the daggers reveal much the same.

"I've also a quarter staff, though it's a bit unwieldy for your armchair. The armour, I'm afraid, is all Heavy. So there's little I can do on that front."

Tears stream down. That dream comes back with a vengeance, twisting my insides into knots and ruthlessly kicking the air from my lungs.

"Summon Her Highness and Naofumi. NOW!"

8-8

"Has it occurred to you that this is but an illusion?" Her Highness drums her thumb against my library's long wooden table, her frown more than obvious.

"I know illusions. I know fever dreams." I shake my head. "This was more. Whatever goddess those people worship, she isn't to be trifled with."

"That certainly is an option, but…" Naofumi pinches his chin, eyes out of focus. "It's strange. If this god is so powerful, why resort to threatening you?"

"Sorrow intervened on your behalf, did she not?" Highness makes sense, but at the same time, she doesn't. Why would this goddess even allow the Heroes be summoned, if her goal is to slaughter them to a man? Sigh. Gods are fickle in the best of times, and…

…

Who says there's only one god or goddess?

"That doesn't make any damn sense. If the Four Heroes are summoned to protect the world, to fight the Waves, why would a…"

Exactly. That train of thought is…disturbing.

"It's a game." Naofumi uses that accursed word again, but his sour expression shows he takes no pleasure in it. "No, Candy. Listen. There's a game in my world. A pen and paper table top, called Dungeons and Dragon. The way it works is you have a Dungeon Master that comes up with the world, the setting, the story. They script all the encounters, the bad guys, the good guys, everything. There are players that take part in the story. Think of it like the Four Cardinal Heroes. We're the players. We have a set of rules of what can and can't be done. The DM, the Dungeon Master is also a player of sorts, bound by the same rules. But…"

I motion for him to get to a point.

"If you get a good DM, the game follows a set trajectory, more or less. The players can interact with the story, with the world, and everyone has a good time. If you get bad players, or Cardinal Heroes, then it can easily ruin the world. Imagine what would happen if the Four Cardinal Heroes were murder hobos? Just killing everything in sight."

As much as the thought sickens me, it's where this leads that truly fills me with dread. "According to this analogy, we're playing with a bad DM. One that wants the game to go exactly as scripted. And I'm the one ruining it?"

"Yeah." Naofumi nods. "So whichever god is behind these waves? They've got something more up their sleeve, and you're tipping the scales away from it."

That…is certainly plausible. All the pieces fit, if nothing else. But that leaves only more questions on my plate.

Think, Sorrow. There's something going on here, something broader, something deeper.

Hmm. Ever since coming to Melromarc, there's been that…sense of dread in the air. The same as in the dream—vision, whatever. Why is it stronger here? That heaviness wasn't in Zeltoble, Siltvelt, Q'ten Lo, the Scarred Coast, Cal Mira. Anywhere I've been. The Three Heroes Church? They are also prominent in Faubrey, though not in any other country I'm aware of. I've never been, thus little to be gleamed there.

Hmm, but that Malty, she bears that same…taint. The air about her that constantly sets every hair on end. Is there a connection?

Think, think. Come on. What's the…? The Shield Hero Church? Every other country I've been in, without fail, all subscribe to that faith…to that god?

"Lyraynna. Ready the wagons. We make for Zeltoble."

8-8

Manor's courtyard snaps to the security checkpoint outside of La Matrish. As rundown as I am, I'm well enough to sit here beside the driver. The smooth walls surrounding the city are a welcome sight, but it's the lack of that ever-present doom breathing down my neck that truly sets me at ease just now.

As we pull up to the checkpoint, one of the guards motions for us to stop. I hold up my Silver Pendant.

"Ah. An adventurer. Go on through."

"Have you a church in the city?"

"We do. Shield Hero Church. You go straight towards the market. When you get to the Adventurers Guild Hall, you take a left and keep straight. Only cathedral you'll pass, you can't miss it."

"My thanks, good sir." I flick a silver in the air, right for him. He catches it, grinning as he assures me it was no trouble.

My driver doesn't even need to be told that's where we're going as he flicks the reins to get our workfowl moving.

I open the history book in my lap, turning to the chapter on House Lyght. History is written by the victor, they say, not an accurate representation of what truly happened. So who was the victor?

Names, persons of note. All interesting, but not what I need just now.

The Rabier Incident.

Duke Idol Rabier marched his army into Lute, under pretences of a joint pre-emptive attack on Siltvelt.

It's a bit hard to read with the wagon shuddering. But this is more than enough to bring a special little smile to my face.

8-8

The cathedral is…indeed quite impossible to miss. Twelve spires, each tall enough to give me vertigo, encircle a gothic styled building with seemingly endless stained glass windows, each telling their own wordless tales.

We pull up before the entrance—double doors large enough to allow our wagon to ride on through, if I will it. Lyraynna is already at my side, kneeling as she offers both her hand to assist, and her now horizontal thigh as a step to help me down.

I shake my head, no, and beckon with just a finger. My gorgeous bluette smiles, stands and comes in close, carefully scooping me out of my seat and holding me bridal style with my arms draped around her neck for support, before oh so suavely easing me onto my feet on smooth stone.

As if to compound my request, her elbow juts out from the side of her cape as her proffered and preferred means of escorting me. My right forearm loops around her offering, holding on tight to counter the dizziness. It does little, of course, though it certainly helps to keep my limp from becoming obvious.

We make our way into the cathedral, surrounded by seated priestly types, with nuns and monks affecting us with warm and welcoming smiles that reach their eyes as we make our way between wooden pews of the pearliest of whites. It seems we interrupt their service, giving an important-seeming man stands before the altar, arms outstretched as words so fluent yet so jumbled reverberate off every surface.

A feeling washes over me. A warmth, a peace, so keen and absolute—it's unlike any I've yet felt.

The important-seeming man stops, mid-syllable, and turns.

"Ah, Duchess Sorrow C Lyght." The man bows to me, sending the entire congregation of monks and nuns and priests and priestesses surging to their feet to bow even lower. "I am Bishop Lucreen Delarain. And I've been expecting you."

8-8

The office is…quaint. Sparsely decorated, with only a wooden shield hung from the smooth and otherwise bare wall. A round wooden table, its wood left bare though smooth enough to show true skilled hands crafted it, with four matching sturdy chairs set around it.

The Bishop himself brings a wooden tray, and sets his burden on the table top. A wooden teapot with wooden teacups and no saucers. A fatherly smile never leaves his face, his eyes, as he gracefully pours tea for Lyraynna and I. With his hat removed, his weathered hair, greyed with his advance age, is revealed. Crow's feet pockmark his every facial crease, with his puppy dog brown eyes twinkling with what I can only describe as familial love.

"You have many questions, my child. Please." Bishop sits opposite me and motions to me with an open palm. "I will answer what I can."

I waste no time, telling him every detail of that strange vision, of the warning, of my troubles with the Three Heroes Church and with Siltvelt's king, of my involvement with the Four Heroes that clearly has this goddess incensed.

He sips his tea, nodding now and then as he listens. The warmth in his eyes only deepens with each deed regaled.

"Yes," Bishop sips the last of his tea, clacking the now empty teacup down, "most troubling for one such as the goddess of that church."

"I don't understand. Why?"

"How to put this?" He refills my empty teacup and offers the same to Lyraynna, before seeing to his own. "There are many gods and goddesses, each with their role, their duty. The one they serve, is best described as a devil. A demon. One that thrives on chaos, on discord. The brothers and sisters of our humble Church have suspected for some time that…Melromarc's First Princess Malty is…what would best be described as an avatar thereof."

I see.

"I assure you, their queen is not in league with such a being, but…she has inherited her father's spirit, and her mother's kingdom."

Hmm. Interesting.

"As for what assistance I might offer. Personally, very little, though…if you would be patient for but a moment?"

I nod, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Bishop closes his eyes, folding his hands atop the table as he begins chanting in that soft, strange, yet somehow familiar tongue. It's the same tongue I heard that day, all those months ago, when my slave-crest was removed.

Bishop's eye flutter open, his pupils now slit and the brown now golden.

"Ah, you seek me out, Candy." The accent is completely different; S softer, more breathy, with K harder. His tone is deeper, softer, but somehow flowing so much easier. "I welcome you back to the fold, child."

"You…possess your bishop?"

A nod, smiling eyes regarding me with a tranquil expression.

"I seem to have upset the goddess of the Three Heroes Church. What options have I?"

"Incensed, hmm? That seems her modus operandi, these days. Truly a twisted thing she's become." Bishop's finger trails along his smooth-shaven jawline. "As for your options? You've many, yet few. Tell me, child. What do you hope to achieve?"

Mouth opens, ready to answer. Words do not come.

What do I hope to achieve?

Crayn…Stellar…Luna…

Save the world is too ambitious for one like me. Especially a world I care nothing for. No, holding my babies when they cry. Listening as they recount what troubles them. That…that is all I breathe for.

"To keep my babies safe. To be there to watch them grow. To help train them to be strong enough, wise enough, to survive."

"Ah, a true mother's heart. Tell me, do you not care about this world that one wishes to eradicate?"

Sigh. "If the world ends, its demise will claim my babies. But…just the same, I can't bring myself to care for it." Best to be wholly truthful.

"Very well." A nod, a warm smile, and I dare say amusement twinkles in that one's eyes. "What I can offer you is this. Complete your assigned tasks in this world, and I shall offer you a role that even she cannot hope to deny you. With your children at your side, of course."

My eyes narrow. Gods are fickle, and that is rife with a thousand ways to understand it. "My tasks?"

"Oh, yes. Bring low the king of bears. End the Three Heroes Church and their corruption. Offer that one exactly what she demands you cease and desist."

I grin. I really shouldn't. But the thought of having a god's blessing to enact my revenge? What's not to be happy about. "And the role you offer?"

"You and your children would be my summoned Four Cardinal Heroes in another world, scheduled to be that one's next target."

Grin widens further. I get to piss off a goddess, and be offered a role to continue pissing her off, all while keeping my babies close to me? I've been dealt worse hands.

Hope. Éclair. Grin. Lyraynna. Joy drains away. "What of my people here?"

"I can offer four, no more. The others will remain here, to aid the Cardinal Heroes of this world."

My people. They'll not take well to this. I can at least prepare them, knowing that which is to come.

"If it helps." I look up, unsure when I looked down at my hands. "This world I will send you to. There are versions of your people there that you might once again find. I will even grant you the ability to keep in contact with a single entity from this world, with whom you might coordinate your efforts."

"Unn. Then let it be Naofumi Iwatani. This world's Shied Hero."

Bishop nods. "Our covenant is thus made. Offer this world reprieve from those who sow discord, and I shall offer you a life in which you may raise you children."

8-8

End Chapter Twenty

8-8

A/N: I know this feels like lightning from clear skies. I assure you, however, I warned you from the start: Slow Burn. All the pieces have now been put in place. It's just to wrap up Sorrow's role in this world, and start her back at Level 1, to earn the strength you now know she can achieve.