Thanks to Booshes for giving this story a chance and dropping a review for the previous chapter!

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Chapter Five: Shades of Grey

Azalea Town was known for its pink flowers. They were in full bloom as spring had begun. People used the flowers to decorate their clothing, whilst others used the petals in their medicines. Morty wasn't sure if they worked, but apparently it helped the body heal faster. He hadn't tested the theory – he didn't need to. All he needed was the blood of others to heal.

Because of the flowers, the town was livelier than what was usual according to the locals. People had travelled from far across the region to come here to pick flowers. He wondered how many of them had died making such a dangerous journey all for some flowers. Again, he struggled to understand the normal folk. "Morty? Are you listening?" Eusine said.

They were sitting around a table at Kurt's place, a local lumberjack who was an expert at making furniture. He was supposedly the best in the business. Will was also present. He was a friend of Kurt's and was staying at the man's place. "I'm listening," Morty replied.

Will placed his elbows on the table, laying down his cigar. "There's a crypt down below. I've been down there briefly, but I've no talent when it comes to combat. Eusine tells me you're one of the best of the Order's men. You'd be doing this town a favour by resolving the issue down below," the man said, his arms folded. He picked up his cigar again.

Morty nodded., positioning himself away from the puff of smoke. "What benefit do I get out of helping you?"

"I can put in a good word to Naoko and her sisters. You helped me even though you didn't have to."

"Anything else?"

Will nodded, blowing out some smoke once more. "You want to fit in this world? You must blend in. Not draw any suspicion. You could be a local hero if you solve the issue. People have lost their families. If we want to win the favour of the people, we'll have to earn it. The god we worship? A god of resurrection and rebirth? I'm sure the Phoenix would smile down upon our good work."

Ho-Oh, the god of the sun. The light. They had to purify the lands of their corruption, and turn them back to magic, not away. The rightful god. Not this Blessed Divine the heathens believed in. "What else do you know about what we're dealing with?"

"I didn't venture that far," Will answered. "But I know people have been taken down into the well."

"And no one seems to notice?" Morty replied.

"People notice, but what can they do? This is a small town of lumberjacks and tradesmen. They can't fight. Someone will volunteer to investigate the well, but they never return. The best they can do is throw a stick at you."

"But you did investigate the well."

"I don't venture too deep. Other people seek glory and they allow this obsession for rewards control them. They make foolish moves to prove themselves worthy, but in the end their obsession gets them killed. I've seen it many times. But I know for you the rewards aren't physical – they're intrinsic. That is why I think you'll enjoy the challenge of fighting the unknown."

He hadn't met Will before, but the man knew him well. He'd have to ask Naoko about Will sometime, but the woman probably wouldn't say much. Every time Morty asked a question, the answer was always evasive. It's not any of your concern, Naoko would say. Still, the woman was kind to him. She treated him like a son. "Right. We will head to the well at once then. The sooner, the better." Morty stood up and walked to the door.

Eusine climbed to his feet. "Wait. We? You can't possibly mean me."

Morty glanced over his shoulder. "You're coming with me. You wanted my help did you not? You won't get it if you don't tag along." He opened the door and stepped outside, then glanced back over to make sure Eusine was following. He was but wore a reluctant expression.

Will followed them outside. "So, you are keen then?" he said.

Morty shook his head. "I'm doing this because I can."

"The town will be in your debt."

"I don't care about the people. None of them mean anything."

"Very well. Have it your way." Will gestured to the north. "The well is that way. You can't miss it. It has a red roof and there's a cobblestone path leading towards it. Best of luck to you both. I know you won't disappoint."

Eusine said his goodbyes and led the way towards the well. It was just a short walk away from the centre of town. There were several blueberry bushes nearby, but none of the fruits had turned ripe yet. "At least there's a rope. I hope it's steady," Eusine said, grabbing hold of the rope giving it a firm tug. As unstable as it looked, the rope held. "Well. You first."

"I trust there are torches down there."

"Yes. Near the entrance anyway. People haven't gotten any further than that."

Morty sighed and grabbed the hope. He hopped over the sides of the well and slowly slid down. His hands burned from the thick coarse rope, but otherwise he reached the bottom without issues.

Eusine's descent was less than smooth. The man released his grip halfway down and fell on the mud, landing on his backside.

"Perhaps you should've stayed behind…" Morty murmured.

The man clambered to his feet and made a face.

"Grab a torch."

"All right, all right." Eusine grabbed one of the torches off a brazier and held it forward.

Morty withdrew his sword and positioned himself at Eusine's right. Together, they walked away from the rope and towards the crypt entrance. There was no door, but he did notice strange symbols in various red shapes on the stones. He pressed a hand against one of the symbols. Magic had been used to engrave the letters. It still burned hot. "Can you feel it? The magic in the air?"

"Yes. I can sense it."

Morty gave Eusine a gentle nudge forward.

The man walked through the cavern entrance and held the torch high, gazing up at the ceiling.

There were zubats sleeping, their feet designed to stick to damp smooth surfaces. Completely blind, but they relied on their other senses to navigate and find food. Some of them stirred. Others remained fast asleep. Eusine shone on his torch on the zubats. "I hate zubats," he muttered.

"They're not going to hurt you."

"I know. They're just… ugly looking creatures. Probably carrying some odd disease."

"Keep moving."

Eusine lowered the torch and followed the single path deeper into the crypt. As they ventured deeper, the environment changed. The further they walked away from the well, the wilder it became. The walls were no longer covered in stone, but dirt only. There were holes in the walls made from the rattatas who lived down in the depths. Most likely they lived off dead zubats, worms and other insects.

"There's a bloody trail ahead," Eusine pointed out.

Morty followed his finger. There. Bloody humanoid footprints heading in a single direction – north. Eusine seemed hesitant to move, but Morty sauntered forward, venturing deeper into the crypt. "It's quite a barren place. I would've thought there'd be more signs of human activity down here," Morty said. Not a single piece of furniture. No weaponry. Nothing. Just odd symbols and humanoid footprints.

"Maybe whoever lives down here isn't quite human anymore. Those symbols were made with magic – you said it yourself. What if they turned into something else? Gone mad from years living down here? What do you think they eat? People? Rodents?" Eusine shuddered. "Ugh. Forget I said that."

"Whatever helps you survive."

"How would he even cook his food down here? It's not like there's anything here to use to start a fire and our magic isn't elemental. Probably not even human anymore. Can that even happen?"

Morty shrugged. "Magic was able to turn humans into wolves, so I suppose it's possible to become something else entirely. We use our magic to absorb the life of others to be reborn again. Anything is possible with magic. We just haven't explored every opportunity."

They followed the trail into a wide cavern. There was a stone altar in the centre of the room. Morty supposed it had been made by people long before. Atop the altar laid a naked woman. Her chest had been pulled open and the lungs removed. The ribs remained, and they stood erect. Strangely, there was no blood on her. The woman was clean and there wasn't even a drop on the altar.

"What in the hells…" Eusine muttered, bringing a hand to his mouth.

Morty approached the body. The eyes had also been removed. Plucked out by some utensil. He opened her mouth. The tongue had also been removed, but the teeth remained. How odd. "Some form of experimentation," Morty said slowly. He moved his eyes downwards towards the ribcage. "Whoever lives down here… He's toying with his subjects… or performing terrible surgeries. He… or she must've used magic to keep the victim down. There's no blood either. One of us." A mage gone rogue. A defect. Someone who had failed the trials and fled.

"…Pain… In so much pain…. Please…. Somebody…"

Morty turned his head towards the voice. It came from the next room. "Stay here," he said, looking at Eusine.

Eusine nodded. "I had no plans on moving anyway."

Morty took cautious steps, his sword drawn and ready, as he approached the adjoining cavern.

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Agatha returned moments later carrying two golden goblets. She handed one to Karen and held out the other for Clair.

Clair grabbed it with both hands and placed it on her lap then peered down to examine the contents. The liquid was red. Almost as red as the colour of blood. How enticing. She even noticed a few suspicious chunky pieces. Screwing up her face in disgust, she glanced up, her dark eyes fixated on Agatha's face. "What exactly am I about to be drinking?"

The old crone folded her arms and said, "It's a mixture of ingredients. The blood of an adult rat, two stems of betony, one spoon of honey and a quarter of a baby lamb's brain all mixed in with water. I'm certain you can tell which part the brains are. I made the parts small enough to swallow whole. You do not want to chew."

Her stomach muscles tightened. Fortunately, she managed to prevent herself from gagging. Perhaps asking had been a bad idea after all. The liquid itself tasted thick and sweet. Gross, she thought. Much to her satisfaction, Karen looked repulsed.

Even her face was pale, and she looked ready to lurch forwards and expel the contents of her stomach onto the ground. Somehow, she managed to keep it together. How disappointing.

"Good. Now you'll feel a strange burning sensation overcome you. Do not panic."

Clair didn't feel it at first, but then she felt her skin crawl. It was an odd sensation. It was like having an itch you couldn't scratch that only worsened as time passed on. She fidgeted in her chair as she felt her temperature rise. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead. It was like standing near a hot fireplace and the flames were coming closer. She cast her gaze down at her arms, wondering if she'd see herself change, but nothing. Her arms remained the same. Had the spell even worked? What if they had just been poisoned?

Turning her head to the left, she looked at Karen, hoping she was wrong. She expected to see Karen staring back at her, but instead she saw the face of a young adult male looking back at her. His hair was silver and fell just short of his shoulders, and his eyes as dark as night. He even had the faint beginnings of a beard forming on his chin.

"I always wondered what a male counterpart of you would like. Now I have my answer," Clair said. To her own ears, she still sounded like herself, but judging by the look of amusement of Karen's face, she was hearing a much different voice.

"Oh wow, I wish I could have a painting of this done," Karen said with a grin.

Clair snorted. "It would never be good enough."

"Right."

Pause, then, "What do we call ourselves? We'll need names."

Karen looked up. When she was in deep thought, she always tended to look to the sky, as if she would find answers there.

The woman claimed it help, but Clair had tried looking up for answers, but found only silence. The clerics claimed Arceus only answered the prayers of the faithful. Which was strange to Clair. Her cousin wasn't a believer, and many claimed he was blessed by Arceus. The Blessed Hands, the clerics of The Divine led by Koga, were identified by the golden necklace around their necks. Every necklace had a red and white cross attached to it.

"What about… Henry and Neville?"

"Very common names."

"We are common folk remember?"

Karen sighed. "I suppose so."

Agatha brought her palms together, drawing their attention. "Remember. Your time is temporary. When the spell begins to wear off, your disguises will start to fade. Keep an eye out for each other and to leave the area as soon as you notice the changes. Your eye colour will be the first to change. That should be your first warning sign to retreat immediately otherwise you'll find yourselves in a difficult situation. Am I clear?"

"Of course."

Agatha retrieved the now empty vials. "Godspeed. Off you go now." She made a shooing motion with her hands.

Karen and Clair exchanged glances and climbed to their feet. Karen thanked Agatha then headed towards the door, leading herself out.

Before Clair could follow her footsteps, Agatha reached out and grabbed her arm, her fingernails digging into Clair's skin.

"Get your hands off me," Clair said, trying to pry the old woman's hands off. Surprisingly, her grip was quite firm.

"You are living a lie," Agatha said, in a low hushed tone. "How well do you know your grandfather, the man you call king?"

Her grip remained firm. "He's my family. Of course, I know him well."

"He keeps secrets from you. He says it is to protect you, but that is a lie. You're a smart woman; why do you continue to live under his rule? He will send you off to another man's castle for the sake of financial gain. He cares little for your well-being and your cousin is a blind obedient fool." Agatha released her grip on her arm, moving both hands to Clair's shoulders instead. Staring directly into her eyes, she added, "The king is a liar."

At last, the woman released her grip. Clair recoiled, as if she had been slapped in the face. "I should report you to the authorities. You will be hanged before the mob for your words against my grandfather."

"I'll be long gone before you find me again." The woman took a step back. "I only speak in truth, Clair. Magic was forbidden in this kingdom because your grandfather feared it would lead to his downfall. He still fears it today as he knows what magic is capable of as he experienced it firsthand with the death of his father. Do you even know why the mages left?"

Clair raised an eyebrow. Unlike the others, she did not shy away from the subject of magic. "Because grandfather made them leave. He said their magic was dangerous and all mages could not be trusted. He did it for the best of the kingdom."

The woman chuckled. "Yet it was magic that gave him the right to rule."

Clair narrowed her eyes. "Why should I even believe you?"

Agatha's smile disappeared. "Magic doesn't lie. If you continue down this current path and believe in their lies, you won't have a future. You can choose to follow the men blindly or you can create your own destiny." She then gestured towards the door. "You can leave now. Just remember you have been warned."

Unsettled, Clair turned her attention away from the woman and retreated.

Karen was waiting for her outside. "Well. You took your time. Did she say something?"

Clair shook her head. "No, nothing important. Let's just leave already."

Karen didn't say another word and just shrugged.

Clair stayed behind her, lost in her own thoughts. Agatha had implied her grandfather was the reason why the mages had left. But wasn't that obvious? His law had forced them away. Perhaps her grandfather had done something to personally offend the hag and now Agatha held a grudge towards him. Yes. That was probably it. Nothing to be concerned about at all. Forcing the thoughts aside, she followed Karen through the crowded city streets towards the tavern.

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Lance headed down to the chambers below the throne room where he knew he would find Samuel. The man rarely stepped outside his room, let alone the castle walls itself. It was almost as if Edward didn't want Samuel being seen outside the castle, but Lance wasn't sure why. It wasn't as if the man had done anything to be ashamed of. Perhaps his grandfather just wanted the man's services for himself.

He arrived at the door and knocked several times until he received an answer. Moments later, the door opened.

Samuel greeted him with a brief smile and stepped aside to allow Lance through. Once he was inside, he quickly closed the door then turned to face him. "The king has already informed me about your journey to Mahogany Town and I've made the necessary preparations for you, so you'll be well supplied."

The room the man worked in was small and messy. It was almost as if a wild storm had struck this room alone. There were papers on the floor, books spread across the table with some open and others closed, and there was even a spilt bottle of ink on the floor. Hanging on the eastern wall was a sketch of a man and a wolf. There were various scribbles on the paper, but it was in small print, and he couldn't decipher words unless he was up close and personal.

"Right," Lance said, his eyes still fixed on the man and the wolf. "New research?"

Samuel followed his gaze then nodded. "I've been working on something new that I believe will help us combat the wolves more effectively should they become a problem. You won't even have to deal a killing blow – this poison will shut down the immune system of the wolf and it will die slowly."

"Seems a bit cruel don't you think?" Lance replied, shifting his gaze away. He turned back to the table and took note of the text on some of the open books. There were images of plants and various descriptions on what they looked like and how they grew. "At least with a blade it's quick."

"And leaves too much of a mess behind." He walked over to the western wall to another table. This one had multiple pots of different sizes all lined up against the wall. Samuel grabbed one of the pots and placed his right hand inside then pulled it out, holding a small blue-purple flower. He held it out towards Lance. "This is what I call wolfsbane. We know it works on normal wolves – there have been tests in other regions. They applied special sauce to a rotting deer corpse. The wolves seemed okay at first, but the scouts discovered their corpses later the following morning."

"And you think it will work on the werewolves?"

Samuel nodded. "I believe it will. It has quite a sweet smell."

Lance leaned forward to smell the flower but pulled back immediately when he felt his eyes start to water. Suspecting a sneeze would soon follow, he took a step back and kept his gaze on the petals.

Samuel 's eyebrows arched up. "I did not realize you were allergic."

"I've never been allergic to any herb before."

The old man shrugged. "Sometimes you can go your entire life without finding a weakness. Speaking of ailments and illnesses, how have you been feeling recently? Your grandfather wants to know whether the dosage should be increased or if you are stable."

Every month for at least four days he'd come down with a terrible headache that would keep him in bed if not for Samuel's medicine. He would be overcome with muscle aches and pains all over his body. The medicine he drank didn't make the pain go away – it would only lessen it so it was manageable, but overtime his body became accustomed to it, and the dosage would need to be readjusted every couple of months. His grandfather called it moon sickness, but when Lance had asked the other soldiers if they suffered it too, none of them had heard of it. It seemed to be something unique to him. A side effect of being Arceus's chosen?

"Do you know why this happens?"

Samuel turned back to his table and pulled out a drawer. He searched through and grabbed a pouch made of animal hide and handed it to Lance. "This will last you until you return. And to answer your question, no, I don't know why. We all have a weakness, Lance. We're all susceptible to some illness and yours just happens to be this moon sickness."

Lance took the pouch. "Moon sickness. No one else seems to have it."

Samuel ignored him. "This is a little stronger than usual because you're going away. I won't be able to treat you, so I took extra precautions and gave you more."

"Thanks."

"You don't need to thank me. Keeping you in good health is my job."

"I'll see you when I return."

"And I should have the wolfsbane completed for you to test again. Take care."

Lance nodded. Nothing else was needed to be said. Without saying another word, he turned around and saw himself out.

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Leaning against a wall, was a man in chains, his chest bare. "It's inside me… Please… Get it out!" he pleaded, turning his dark eyes in Morty's direction, his eyes full of pain. Tears rolled down his dirty cheeks. "Get it out! Get it out!" He thrashed against his chains, trying to break free, but his movements were in vain.

Morty kneeled before him, then reached a hand down for his dagger. A hunting knife used for carving small animals like rabbits. He looked into the man's eyes then placed a hand on his shoulder to keep him in place. There were stitches on the man's stomach already. Someone had opened him up and placed something inside. "This is going to hurt," Morty remarked, as he made a deep incision into the flesh. Blood seeped out of the wound.

"Oh… That is…" Eusine gagged.

"There was a reason why you never passed the trials," Morty replied, his gaze focused on the whimpering man before him. "Your mind was weak, Eusine. You couldn't be strong when you needed to be." Morty made the cut wider then parted back the folds. The man screamed. At first, nothing happened, then a furry purple snout poked through the opening. A rattata. Surprised, he pulled back. The rattata pushed itself through the stomach and climbed out. It dropped on the floor and scurried away.

"What is going on here?" Eusine said.

Morty thrust his blade into the man's heart silencing his cries. He didn't bother sacrificing this man. The man had already been defiled. Besides, he'd be stuck down in the well when the resurrection happened. "A human experiment." He climbed to his feet just as an arrow flew by his head. An intentional miss? Or just poor aim? He turned to the shadows.

"…Intruders… intruders. In my own home. I can smell your fear. Hear your heart beating. Feel the blood pumping." A thin high-pitched voice. A woman. She emerged from the shadows, her back slouched. Her hair was white, thin and uncombed, and her skin all wrinkled and yellow. She carried a twisted staff in her left hand to support her weight. Each step was slow. "You invade my home. You attack my patients. They are being saved."

"Saved?" Morty repeated, cautious.

She closed the distance. "Yes. Saved. These people are filthy. They're sinners. I am purifying them of their sins and turning them to our God as required. They will rise from the ashes like a phoenix." Her brows furrowed. "But you come here and defile my home."

As she drew closer, Morty was able to take notice of the finer details. There were strange bumps and lesions on her arms and face. Her eyes were red, and her lips a pale blue colour. Diseased. Probably from living off a poor diet. He maintained a healthy distance. "You were one of us once."

"And when I die, I will rise again from the ashes."

Morty's tightened his jaw. "These people aren't going anywhere. Even if they were brought back from the dead, they're not getting out of here. You're not serving anyone. This is not what we do. We don't experiment on the dead." He kept his distance, uncertain. She might've looked weak and frail, but she was still a mage.

She slammed her staff on the ground. "I serve God."

"You are not part of the Brotherhood. We do not defile the dead."

That seemed to anger her. Her mouth twisted into a sneer. "I serve God," she repeated.

"And He doesn't need you. That's why you're down here rotting away."

"I am purifying these people."

Morty spat at the ground. "No, you're not. You're maiming these bodies. When these people rise again after the resurrection, do you think they'll be useful in a n battle with one arm?" The woman was clearly mad. Whatever disease she had gained had rattled her brain, or whatever remained of it. "Do you think the dead can be of any use down here? They're not even marked appropriately. They won't be coming back when the spell is cast," Morty explained.

"I'm helping these people. I'm saving them."

"By taking out their lungs and placing rodents inside their stomachs?"

"They were suffering. I am freeing them of their pain."

"By prolonging their deaths," Morty replied, still maintaining a distance. He didn't want any part of her to touch him. What if the disease was contagious? Blood healed wounds, but it didn't cure a necromancer of a disease. "You're disgracing our God with these pitiful offerings. That won't be tolerated."

She slammed the staff on the ground again. "Your presence won't be tolerated!" she shrieked. There was a maddened gleam in her dark eyes.

Morty approached her now, his left hand curled into a fist. She didn't back away. He closed the distance between them. The woman attacked first, swinging her staff. Morty met her weapon with his own and blocked the attacked. She had spirit, but her body was weak.

"I am his devout follower! I will offer you as a grand sacrifice!" She swung her staff again.

This time, he stepped back and thrust his left hand forward, curling his fingers into a fist. Blood lifted from the ground and merged into a rope. He swung it like a whip. Although it was made of liquid, it maintained its form, held together by the dark magic. The blood rope wrapped around her staff and pulled it free from her hands. Morty waved his hand. The rope flung the staff away. It flew into a wall and splintered into pieces. "I really was expecting more of a fight, but you're not even whole."

She bared her teeth. They were yellow. Some of her front teeth were badly chipped. The woman charged and flung herself at him tackling him to the ground. She tried to bite him, gnashing at his skin, like a wild animal, her hot breath washing over his face.

Up this close, he was able to see parts of her skin starting to peel away from her face. With his free hand, he punched her in the side of the face. It was enough to allow him to roll away until she grabbed his leg. He turned around and kicked in the face, his foot colliding with her nose. Blood spilled out.

"This is not how we serve."

She fell back, then climbed to her feet. Uttering harsh grunts, she charged again, her arms flailing wildly, saliva flying in all directions. It was as if she was becoming half-beast herself.

He caught both arms then kneed her in the stomach. She lurched forward. Again, he kicked her, this time in the face. One of her teeth fell out.

"I will not let you succeed!" she hissed.

Is this what happened to everyone who was sent away? Did they become mad too? Perhaps an immediate death would be a better option. Better to be dead and die with your mind intact than die not even knowing what you are. "Was it Naoko who oversaw your trials?"

Her face darkened. She seemed to recognize the name. "The dark mistress." She spat at the ground. "I want to rip out her heart and take a bite out of it! Wrap my hands around her neck and choke the life from her." It wouldn't be the first time Naoko had crushed someone's hope of becoming part of the Order of Ash. "I was her favourite. Fantina, she said. You are chosen. But I was abandoned. She left me, and she will leave you too. Abandon you. Turn against you. You are disposable."

"No, she won't."

She snorted. "You believe her lies. I did. Look at where I ended up. Fall from grace. I was beautiful once. Powerful. Now I'm here. I travelled the ocean to serve but I only arrived to fall."

"Your faith was not strong enough."

"Oh, my faith is strong. It is you whose faith is weak. You do not believe in the one true God. You believe in only a monster. Naoko will send you away to dispose of you. To replace you."

Morty shook his head, his sword's tip still pointed at her. "I will not be replaced."

She threw her head back and cackled. "You do not serve The Blessed Divine."

Morty lifted a brow. Arceus? "You turned to Arceus? You really are weak. Hasn't done you much good, has it. You turn away from one god and turn to another, yet you find yourself down here. Look at you. A wreck. You're dying of disease. Arceus isn't going to save you." He glanced over at the man then turned back to Fantina. "All these sacrifices… Don't mean anything. Arceus doesn't love you."

"He's the true God. The Divine. The Blessed Creator. After death, we ascend into a paradise. I am saving these people. They are going to a better place," Fantina reasoned, her tone sincere.

The mad woman genuinely believed in her words. "You're a fool," he remarked.

"You stumble in the dark. The light is ahead. But you can't reach it. Not yet. But you will. You'll see. I saw."

"I'm not you." Tired of her words, he thrust the blade squarely between her ribs, pushing the steel through to the other side.

She gasped, and raised her hands, placing them on the sword. She tried to yank it free, but already weakness was affecting her. It wasn't much of a challenge. Even a farmer would put up a better fight. "…You… will… see…" she rasped.

"I had hoped for a challenge, but I shouldn't be surprised from someone who failed an easy set of trials. You should be glad. You'll be reunited with your God that you profess to love so much." He withdrew his sword. She fell forward and landed face first, gasping and wheezing. Dropping down to his knees, he cupped her chin and looked at her.

"…Arceus… damn you," she rasped. "You will see the truth."

"I already know the truth., but you choose to be blind. Arceus doesn't care about you." He pulled his hand away and climbed to his feet. Fantina dropped to the ground, blood spilling out of the open wound. "And this is the fate that awaits those who displease the Phoenix. Traitors be damned." He turned his back and walked away from the woman, not stopping once to glance back. The fool had betrayed them. Turned away from the light. Turned to the Divine. Fantina deserved this fate. She had become blind.

"It's done them," Eusine said, his face pale.

Morty nodded, putting his sword back. "It's done. I'll continue to Blackthorn."

Traitors be damned.

.

It was like entering another world. The castle life was bland and strict, but here in the tavern, it seemed people had forgotten they were just servants of her grandfather. There were no rules here – you could drink, and no one could tell you when to stop; you could eat as much as you wanted if you could afford it. You could even talk about any topic freely without having to worry what someone else might think. Karen labelled it tavern talk; gossip and vulgar language, all of which was considered unladylike by her grandfather.

Clair scanned her surroundings, keeping her eyes peeled for anyone that might look interesting. She saw a group of soldiers seated around one of the tables to the south-western corner. One of them she recognized as Bruno. She had traded words with him on multiple occasions and not even one left her feeling positive towards him. He seemed to think she fancied him when it was the exact opposite; she couldn't even stand the sight of him, but Lance seemed to think highly of the man for whatever reason.

"Try not to talk to any of the commonfolk. You know the peasants and the like. They might try to touch you and who knows where their hands have been. I wouldn't want you to come down with anything nasty because your grandfather will know we've been here. Don't even make eye contact with them. Think of them as rodents," Karen explained as she looked around the room before resting her attention on the man behind the counter. "Now he's someone worth talking to. That's Gary Oak, Samuel's grandson."

She had heard the name before. Samuel often talked about his grandson and how he wished the boy would come and visit him in the castle, but Gary never came. Samuel had described him as a cunning boy but lacked ambition. She looked at him now. He was busy wiping down the surface of the counter.

"I didn't expect him to be so…"

"Good-looking? Yeah."

Clair had never found any of the local men attractive. Some were too thin, some were too wide, some were too short, and some were too tall, but Gary checked all the right boxes. Tall, but not too tall. He was neither fat nor thin and he seemed to pay attention to his appearance unlike some of the other peasants in the kingdom. From all the commoners she had crossed paths with, each one of them seemed to have some physical issue whether it be suspicious bumps on their faces, weight issues, skin conditions and other similar problems, but that wasn't the case with Gary. But there had to be something wrong. How could a grandson of Samuel Oak work in a place like this?

"I heard he chose to work here. He could've followed in his grandfather's footsteps, but for some reason, found working in a tavern more appealing," Karen explained.

"I don't think we should be staring at him. I mean, we're not us… Not to anyone else. Don't you think he'd find a bit strange if he noticed two males looking at him with fascination? He might think we are creeps." He hadn't seemed to notice them yet. He was too busy with his duties to even look their way once. That was probably for the best. It was a strange sensation that filled her. It wasn't something that she had felt before. Was it what Karen referred to as attraction? No. It couldn't be.

Karen nodded. "Fair point. We should probably take a seat somewhere. Just standing here and looking clueless will only draw attention." She headed towards one of the spare tables to the south west and sat down. Clair sat opposite to her. "So. What do you think? First time at the tavern."

"It's okay. I wish I had longer to enjoy it all, but we can't everything." She understood why her grandfather didn't want her present. It was the place of the peasants, the common folk. She wondered how many of them had resorted to vulgar acts of prostitution to obtain coin. Probably more than what seemed. "Come to think of it, maybe we shouldn't eat anything here. It could make us sick."

Karen laughed. "The food here is fine. I've been here several times with the soldiers."

Raising an eyebrow, Clair said, "What? You spent time with them? How did you manage to do that? Women aren't allowed in the barracks. Did you sneak in at night without the guards noticing?"

"No, silly, the arena. You know the fighting pits where the men train against each other?"

Clair frowned. "No?"

Karen sighed. "You really don't know much about the kingdom you live in, do you? You're so sheltered. Yeah. The arena. That's where you meet the soldiers after their training sessions and of course, after some gruelling hours of training, all a man wants is a woman to keep his bedroll warm."

"Aren't the soldiers forbidden from doing that?"

"Oh please, not all the soldiers are like Lance, Clair. Besides, Lance is part of the Holy Order of Knights, the King's elite men. They must be chaste to even join and believe me, you can tell. Anyone who wants to join the Holy Order has to be circumcised."

"Even if they're not pure?"

Karen nodded. "The knights are chaste, but the soldiers are not. A shame about the knights, really. Especially Lance. Such potential wasted. You think it's ever crossed his mind?"

Clair stiffened. It always made her uneasy listening to other women talk about her cousin. Some women lamented his celibate life whilst others mocked him behind his back. Of course, mocking her cousin wasn't classified as a crime so there was nothing she could do but allow them to make their snide remarks. "He knows what he's sacrificed Karen, and that doesn't disappoint him. As he says, he's willing to make whatever sacrifice is necessary if it will benefit the kingdom."

"Right… But how does being a celibate knight benefit anyone?"

She struggled to think of a response. It had something to do with her grandfather wanting the Holy Order of Knights to be a sign of prestige and it obtain that certain sacrifices had to be made to be inducted. Only upon retirement could a knight think about family. "…It's not about benefiting anyone, Karen. It's about putting his duty to the kingdom first."

"He could make so many women proud… Now we must wait until he's an old man. Where's the fun in that?"

Clair glared. "Don't talk about my cousin like that."

Karen raised her hands. "Fine, fine. Anyway. We should get a drink. No point in coming to the tavern if you don't get a drink." She headed over to the counter and Clair followed.

A chance to talk to Gary Oak. Not as her usual self but at least she'd get to hear him speak. Clair had never tasted alcohol before – it wasn't allowed in the castle as her grandfather thought it was unladylike for women to indulge in such things. She remained silent as Karen took the lead and placed an order.

"Two of your strongest wines please," Karen said.

"Strongest?" Clair repeated.

"Yeah."

"Are you sure you can handle it?" Gary said.

Karen nodded. "Of course. We can handle whatever the men can."

He raised an eyebrow. "…Considering you are both men, I'd hope so."

"Real men, Gary. The soldiers. Not the peasantry."

Knowing Karen expected her to pay Clair placed a pouch of six gold coins on the counter. "That should cover it all."

Gary took the pouch, opened it and peered inside. The expression on his face said it all – a mixture of bemusement and surprise – were enough to tell her she had given him far too much. "It's just some alcohol, you know. I guess you lads don't come here very often… Or you've never drunk before." He looked up again and grinned. "Two of our strongest wines it is then," he added then headed over to the barrels to fill up the goblets.

Karen caught Clair's eye. "It's really not that strong. You'll be fine."

That didn't sound convincing. Clair couldn't disagree; they had already paid good coin for the drinks and she certainly wasn't going to appear weak in front of her best friend and Samuel's grandson. She was a princess! Not some coward! Gary returned moments later with the drinks. Clair grabbed hers and looked down at the amber coloured liquid. "What's it made of?"

"Grain, water and fermented with yeast. Nothing overly complex. Pretty simplistic really. I won't tell you the exact measurements because I don't want to go out of business, but I think you'll like it. Everyone does."

Clair took a sip. It was warm and sweet in flavour. A little too sweet for her liking. She put it down again and looked up. "People like this?"

"It helps them relax… You look a little stressed. I know it's not my business to ask, but I take it you have a lot on your mind?" Karen cleared her throat, but Gary ignored her. Even disguised as men, Clair was receiving more attention than her.

"I guess you could that." Her grandfather still intended for the arranged marriage to go ahead. Prince Benga would be arriving in a few short days to meet with her in person before the official ceremony. "Why did you choose to work at a tavern?"

Gary shrugged. "I get asked that a lot. My grandfather works in the castle, but that's not the life for me. Can you imagine anything worse than being stuck within those walls all day long? I've heard castle life is a bit bland, and that wouldn't suit someone like me. I like being with people; having a few laughs with the commonfolk. We're not free people but within the walls of this tavern? It certainly feels like it."

"Yeah, I understand." More than you think, she noted. Castle life was dull. There was only so much fun you could gain out of bullying the slaves before it became old; not surprisingly, this was another activity her grandfather wasn't fond of. Her thoughts were interrupted by a nudge in the ribs from Karen. Had time already flown by that quickly? It had only seemed like they had just arrived.

"Well, as much as I enjoyed the conversation with you, I really should be focusing on work."

"Oh of course."

Clair took another sip of her drink.

"But before you go… What do you think?" He gestured at the drink in her hands.

It wasn't something she was keen on drinking again. It was too sweet and the liquid itself felt creamy. How could anyone find enjoyment from this? But rather than express her distaste, she just smiled. "It's good." She glanced over at Karen who had already consumed hers fully. Clair forced herself to drink the remainder of her ale fighting off the urge to expel the contents from her stomach. She was not going to show weakness.

"Perhaps you'll be back in the future for more."

Clair forced a smile. "Of course. How could I not want to return?"

He grinned then shifted his attention away from her to some other customers. Clair watched him for a few moments. Would he speak to her if she was her usual self or would she have to return in a disguise to have a casual conversation? He didn't like the rules of the castle and he probably didn't have a high opinion of the royal family either though he would not say that aloud or risk being deemed a traitor. Nevertheless, she planned to return in the future and learn more about him. Perhaps Samuel would share his thoughts if she asked.

Her plans would have to wait – time was running out and Karen was growing impatient and probably jealous. She stood up from her seat and headed towards the door, not stopping once to check if Karen was following. The tavern was exciting; she knew she'd have to come back on her own at some point if only to get away from the castle life for a while, but would Agatha still be here? Maybe she could convince Gary to leave the tavern and come to her instead on order of the king. She smiled at the thought. Lance would call it an abuse of power, but she didn't care what he thought. She deserved some fun too. Without bothering to wait for Karen, Clair headed to the private baths where she could lose her disguise without being spotted.