The trek back to the village was an awkward, uncomfortable one. Once his emotions subsided somewhat, Ramon couldn't believe that he had struck Saddler. He considered himself lucky that he hadn't been hit in return, and felt a tinge of pity for the priest. He hadn't really deserved to be hit, had he? That he hadn't struck him back only solidified his good intentions a little bit more to the naive castellan. He was considering apologizing when they entered the main gates of the town under the starlight.
"Mendez, why not take our young friend in with you tonight? You and Luis can look after him. I'll get someone to send word to Jacob at the castle that Ramon here will be spending the night. He will not find it out of the ordinary, I'm sure. Don't alarm him with any talk of a wolf attack now. There's no need for him to come down here in a panic in the middle of the night. All will be explained to him later, of course."
Ramon tried to catch his eye, but his heart sank as Saddler didn't so much as glance at him before heading off to find a messenger. Was he really that angry with him? Ramon couldn't blame him. As was becoming distressingly normal for him, his emotions warred between revulsion and adoration. Truly, there was no more commanding, charismatic presence than Saddler. It was clear by the way the townspeople, even mayor Mendez, respected and liked him so much. Ramon felt drawn to him magnetically, against his will. When he thought it out, logically, some small, quiet alarm in the back of his head went off. But it was nothing compared to the irresistible tide rising within him that told him to grab what he could, when he could. There was a comfort in the priest's presence - a warmth that appealed to his innermost feelings and instincts, sliding forth from their hiding places to snatch at comfort, safety, and power with grasping, needy claws.
He was drawn out of his thoughts by a wet, cold nose nuzzling his hand. He pet Ruk's head, looking down at the dog. The young Salazar wondered just how he had managed to fly under the radar since last winter. Surely he would have noticed those glowing eyes? Though they were half-way normal now: you could see the pupils, but there was still a faint glow in the darkness of the night. And that faint but unmistakable smell. It was hard to explain, and confusing to the young man. As if death could somehow smell like it had vitality. But Ruk seemed to still love and obey his master, so Ramon treated him as he normally would, finding acceptance in the fact that no one would dare to harm him with his super dog around.
"Come, Ramon. You have had a long night," Mendez said, and they both headed to his house, trailed closely by Ruk. It was bigger than most of the humble wood dwellings in the village; two stories with furniture and decorations that spoke of a little bit more wealth than was usual, but was by no means ornate. Hunting trophies were everywhere, including the infamous wolf pelts from so many years ago.
"Make yourself at home," the gargantuan man said as they entered, shutting the door behind him. He knelt before the fireplace and started a fire while Ramon gratefully sat in a chair and leaned back. Even though he had spent hours sleeping during the day, the nightmare and the incident after made him feel as if he had been running a marathon. He sighed with relief as he took the weight off of his feet. Ruk sat alertly on the floor close to him.
Just as Mendez was finishing stoking the fire, there was a knock at the door. Mendez grunted under his breath, then spoke. It was clear he knew by the knock who it was.
"Come in."
The door swung open, and in strode Luis. He looked like he had still been up, dark circles under his eyes indicating that he might have had a lot of sleepless nights lately. Sitting down on the couch opposite the chair that Ramon was sitting in, he rested his elbows on his knees and regarded the young man.
"So, heard you got into a tussle with some of the wolves out there."
"Hardly a tussle," Mendez said, leaning against the wall close to the crackling fire. "They never touched him. His dog there saved him. His Las Plagas dog."
Ramon couldn't quite read the expression on the biochemist's face. Surprise, definitely, as he sat up straighter and looked at Ruk as if noticing him for the first time. But was that anger? Sadness? Whatever it was, it passed quickly.
"Las Plagas Dog? Now that you mention it, I can see it." His gaze fell on Salazar. "So, you decided to go ahead with things?"
Mendez once again grunted under his breath, and shook his head.
"Ah," Luis said, "So Saddler decided to hurry up with the experiments. He...does things like that." He rubbed the back of his head, looking down at the floor, then laughed. "Ah, but not to worry! Look, Las Plagas don't look great. I know. It's creepy. I had my qualms at first, too. But they really seem to help people. They become stronger, smarter, live longer. They are immune to most diseases. It's...it's really what's best for the human race. You know, people are all up in arms about genetic engineering, but if crops last longer, and food animals grow bigger, faster, isn't that best for everyone? This is a lot like that. It might seem unsavory, but if you stop to think about it, it could end a lot of human suffering. Looks like it saved your life today. Speaking of which..."
He fished into an inside pocket in his vest, pulling out a flask, which he handed to Salazar. "Must have been quite the scare. Drink?"
Mendez rolled his good eye as Ramon uncapped the flask and took a small drink. The liquid burned all the way down and made him break out into a sweat, but after the fire had passed he felt better. Calmer. He handed the flask back to Luis, who had now fished a pack of cigarettes out of another of his hidden pockets.
"Hey Mendez, got a light?"
"I have told you not to smoke in here."
"All right, all right," the lanky Spaniard raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, laughing with a cigarette pinched between his lips. He returned it to the carton regretfully and it vanished back into his pocket. "Kidding. I was just kidding."
Ramon couldn't help but laugh.
"So you are a doctor, yes? A...biochemist?"
"That's right," Luis responded, leaning back and crossing his arms behind his head. "One of the lead researchers of the Las Plagas. But Dr. Sera is too formal. I prefer Luis."
"And you...Mr. Saddler said that both you and he had, ah...accepted the Las Plagas."
At those words, Bitores Mendez stepped into the middle of the room.
"But you don't look like my dog. You look...normal."
Mendez and Dr. Sera exchanged a quick glance.
"Like I told you," Luis said. "Genetic modification is very, very beneficial. In their basic forms, Las Plagas come in several different varieties. But we can engineer those varieties to better suit our needs. A modification to the genes of a certain Plaga change things so that your dog here retains his obedience and domestic nature, but gains the benefits of Las Plagas. I'm sure you've seen them in action after that wolf attack."
Ramon nodded.
"So, different people can have different Las Plagas as well. Mine gives me a longer life. Better strength. Keeps me good looking," he winked. "But it's very behind-the-scenes. I was one of the first to try them out. Consider me one of the guinea pigs. I've got a basic model. Boring. Now, Mendez here..."
The giant, bearded man strode over to the couch. Getting on one knee, he placed his arm beneath the couch and rose to his feet. He lifted the couch effortlessly, Luis and all, like a waiter balancing a martini. No straining, no bracing against the floor for stability. He didn't make a single sound, and was still breathing slowly and easily. It was truly nothing to just hold the whole couch with a man sitting in it effortlessly with one hand.
"He's a little more interesting," Luis continued with a smile.
Ramon was struck speechless as Mendez returned the couch to the floor with as little effort as he had lifted it, the hefty piece of furniture meeting the hardwood with about as much force as a gently falling leaf.
"That's right, I have Las Plagas too," Mendez said. "The villagers do not know yet. It will be revealed to them when the church is complete. And I will be here to help ensure that now that the season is right, it will be built. Quickly."
Ramon eventually found his voice when Ruk gently nuzzled his hand. "You must forgive me for staring. For...for being so uncertain. From what I am to understand about my past, it runs in my family to be so judgemental. I am sorry that I have let that get the better of me for a while. It seems I have let appearances deceive me. You all seem...wonderful. Strong. Happy. Even Ruk doesn't seem to mind."
Mendez, Luis, and Salazar were up for a while longer, talking about Las Plagas, and then on to other topics, like the state of the local villages. The village relied partially with trade from the outside world for food and necessities, but hunting game was still an important part of their economy and food supply. And game had been scarcer than it had been in anyone's memory. Which, of course, was the explanation for the aggressive behavior of the wolves. There were always wolves in the forest, but they only became a danger when game like deer and rabbits were in short supply and they became desperate.
Mendez's house was big enough that he had a guest room, and Ramon stayed the night there. Thankfully, on this night, there were no nightmares.
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Back at the Salazar castle, Jacob had just received the news that Ramon was staying in the nearby village for the night. Since it was so late, he offered the messenger food and drink and let him sleep in one of the many guest rooms.
The butler had tried to pry any additional information about what was going on down in the village from the messenger, but the man genuinely didn't seem to know much; just a simple farmer asked to deliver a message. Jacob wasn't sure why he was driven to learn more. As far as he knew, his charge was in the hands of one of the most trusted men around, along with the mayor. And he was starting to get to the age where he needed more freedom. But something, some kind of sixth sense, or maybe just an inner wisdom that comes with seniority, told him that there was more to this, and that whatever it was, it was of importance.
Rain started to patter against the tall, gothic windows of the palace. The messenger had long since retired, but Jacob was still up, sitting in front of the fire place with his feet propped up on a foot stool, nursing a glass of red wine.
He stood, leaving it half finished on the end table, and left the lounge to walk down a long, marble-floored hallway, his formal shoes clicking against the hard stone. He walked for what seemed like ages. It was hard to believe that one could walk this long and far, enter so many rooms, take so many twists and turns, and still be inside the same castle. Beautiful family portraits and other paintings loomed over him from the walls, made dull and colourless by the lack of good illumination, especially as the butler traveled deeper into the castle. Giant statues and suits of armour stood, collecting cobwebs, because no single man could keep this place clean. Anyone but Jacob would need a map or some kind of guide to make this journey. Even Ramon himself, at his young age, did not have half the knowledge about the castle that Jacob did.
As the dignified, balding servant headed further into the depths of the castle, he grabbed an oil lantern from a mantelpiece as he passed, lighting it and then twisting the handle to get a healthy flame going. He held it aloft to light his way as he continued, making his way past the library, the single room bigger than the inside of most houses.
He stopped for a moment to look inside, since he rarely made his way down to this part of the castle anymore. Shelves upon shelves of big, leather bound books, covered in a healthy layer of dust, lined the walls. Even with all of the shelves seeming to line every inch of rooms periphery, still there was an overflow of books, piles of them stacked neatly in corners or piled on top of the many desks. Maybe when Ramon was older he would take interest in these tomes, but for now he preferred literature aimed at his age demographic, and most of it was kept in his room. Jacob himself didn't have much time to read these days.
He wanted to do some reading tonight, but these weren't the kinds of books he was after. Further down the hallway he went, past the library, until he came to a dusty, unremarkable door. He didn't bother to try the handle, knowing it would be locked. This was the room he was looking for. Fishing into his pocket, he pulled out a tarnished skeleton key and twisted it in the keyhole until he heard a clunk. Replacing the key in his pocket, he carefully pushed the door open, its rusted hinges giving a long groan.
This room was much smaller than the library, but the walls were lined with books. He set the lantern on the single dust-covered desk in the middle of the room. Pulling some matches from his pocket, he struck one and also lit a few of the candles on the simple iron chandelier suspended above the table, to give himself light more suitable for reading.
This room had thus far been kept a secret from Ramon. These were the official Salazar castle family archives. Of course, the official library had lots of historical information about the castle, and Ramon's ancestors. But this was where more of the less glamorous history was kept. Some of it had to do with just how the Salazar family had obtained their wealth. Some of it was family drama.
And Jacob had a premonition that some of it would be about the Los Iluminados.
For a while he searched through the records, and finally, close to the bottom of one of the shelves, he found a leather-bound book titled Reconquista. He sat at the desk and opened the book, flipping through the pages.
The first few chapters were mostly detailing what has essentially been a religious cleansing of the region, that had taken place in the 1400s. King Ferdinand II Of Aragon and Queen Isabella I Of Castile spearheaded the movement, which essentially sough to wipe out religions deemed unsavory by those of the Catholic faith. Ramon's ancestor, the first castellan of castle Salazar, had been instrumental in removing a pagan religion practiced by many of the townsfolk. They called themselves The Enlightened Ones, or Los Iluminados. He had wiped them out, and hidden what were referred to as dangerous religious artifacts in caves under the castle, where they could be guarded and prevented from being put into dangerous use again. The book went into lots of detail about dates, battles, Salazar's heroic deeds in the name of his King, Queen, and Catholicism, but when it came to the actual nature of Los Iluminados itself, the writing was vague. It was only made clear that they were a dangerous, heathen religion that needed to be stopped at all costs, and Salazar was the valiant hero who accomplished just that.
The butler set the book down on the table with a sigh, leaning back in his chair. So the religions were one and the same. Osmond Saddler, the humble, charismatic priest, was a disciple of this cult that all had thought to be wiped out hundreds of years ago.
Jacob didn't need to read any of the books to know that as the generations passed, the Salazar family's opinion on the deeds of the first castellan had soured. Their bloodline had grown more tolerant and accepting of other religions, and considered his actions not heroic tales, but sins that the family needed to atone for. Jacob thought to himself that he wouldn't be surprised if Salazar had not already been filled in on all this, in part or in full, or if not, had started to figure it out for himself.
Maybe this would be good for Ramon. Jacob was certainly no fan of persecuting others for their religion, and, like most, was quick to take a liking to Osmond. But still, something was telling him that there was more to all this.
He went to re-shelve the book and start looking for one that might tell him more, when he noticed what looked like a book wedged against the back of the shelf, out of sight until Reconquista had been removed. He had to pull out a few more books to get at it, and was rewarded by a faded old journal, leather backed like almost all of the books here.
Sitting back down with the book, Jacob read that it was the journal of of the first castellan. In it he planned out strategies, and kept a detailed record of battles. Not much that interested Jacob, but then he came to a part of the journal that started to mention the Las Plagas frequently. He stopped skimming and started reading carefully.
...must be completely eradicated. God must be granting me good fortune, for because of his name this dangerous, perverse cult will be eradicated. Their deeds are unspeakable. I have walked among them, and count myself lucky to still be alive and uninfected. These Los Iluminados call themselves The Enlightened Ones, but it is a cult of domination and death. There have always been heathen pagans in our lands, but these Los Iluminados may very well be a cult brought into being by Satan himself.
These people are ritualistically infected with a parasite. This parasite lies dormant in the body for a while. It is hard to determine how long, but the type of parasite, or Plagas, that the person is infected with seems to be related. Yes, there are different types of these terrible parasites. Those at the very top of this cult, the select few that actually receive any benefit from this sick scheme from hell, are infected with King or Queen Plagas. They are able to control the other infected ones ones the parasites in their body have reached the adult stage.
By now Jacob's eyes were wide and his breathing had become heavier. He hoped and prayed that it wasn't true. That these were just the writings of a madman. They had to be. Because if they were true, that would mean...
He kept reading.
At the adult stage, these Plagas make people more powerful than it is possible to explain. Their strength increases many times over for some of them. They become more resistant to pain, and during skirmishes, I have witnessed Las Plagas suffer horrible injuries that would kill any man without falling. They can also heal themselves quickly, and use the actual bodies of their parasites as disgusting, extremely deadly appendages that defy description.
Jacobs didn't want to read any more of this. The descriptions of the ways people could become victims to the Las Plagas were stomach churning. He kept hoping that it wasn't real. He skimmed through the next couple of pages, then started reading again.
Tonight we are going after the Queen Plaga. The battle has been carefully planned, though I know many of us may not come back alive, including myself. This war cannot end until the Queen Plaga is dead. She is the mother of all the Las Plagas, living deep within the caves beneath the village. A gigantic, alien monster that does nothing but make more Plagas. Eggs, that can be harvested, and used to infect. This has gone far beyond a fight in the name of our Lord. This is a fight for our survival. I believe that if the Mother is allowed to continue to produce eggs, it will be enough to spread this cult well outside this region, and to the rest of the world. The Los Iluminados are masters of manipulation, and will tell people whatever they need to hear to get them to accept a Las Plagas into themselves willingly. They'll be shown high ranking infected as an example of what they could be. They will be promised power, sex, fortune, whatever it is their hearts desire. But in the end, they will become slaves. The parasite can lie dormant for a long time, but once it is awakened, the victim is usually more parasite than human, in the end.
Jacobs set the book down again, putting his hand over his chest. He stared forward into the flickering lamplight for a long while in silence, processing what he had just read. Was it madness, or was it truth? Something told the butler that this was a warning that should be heeded. Tucking the journal under his arm, he put out the candles in the chandelier and grabbed the lantern. Locking the door behind him, he walked at a quick pace. He needed to get back to the village, and fast, messenger be damned.