The red robes swarmed out from the snow. Frankly, they were so erratic, Dove didn't even bother to think that they weren't grimm. They surprised Dove and Penny, and quickly surrounded them. When they didn't attack, Dove didn't question it, and let them escort him to wherever they were headed. While they were mentioning things like a great one, another boon from some acolyte, and how this was a weapon to finally defeat the Rebels, they seemed more like mentally disabled children with guns. Technically threatening, but mostly because they seemed too dumb to know proper trigger discipline. They didn't even bother to handcuff him. Eventually, they brought him into a cave of sorts. He felt like the fact that they were living in a blown-out bunker said something. Admittedly, once they brought him past the meandering guards supposedly watching the mouth of the cavern, the bunker was lavishly decorated, with black scorpions hanging from large red tapestries. Red everywhere, in the rugs to the plush pillows. Obviously custom ordered and new, as most of the felt remained on the pillows, and the fact that Atlas had a hard-on for white and light blue and was completely flaccid for any color that strayed away from those two. The entourage stopped in front of a curtained room.
One of the hooded robed figures sprinkled water on Dove. "Remember to show your greatest respects to the Great One, oh holy warrior sent from afar."
There were only two types of religious nutjobs nowadays, and Dove was betting on black. "I will pay my respects, in Salem's name."
The four escorts droned, "In Salem's name," in conjunction, as if they were a set of four speakers attached to a music player. They waited for Dove to enter the room first.
With a silent grunt, he pushed forward. Bits of frost flaked off his armor as he brushed past the curtains, sprinkling the soft carpets. A pair of figures followed behind him, and kowtowed, foreheads flat to the floor. Dove kneeled and bent his head down. While he could fold in on himself and completely bow forward, the jagged nature of his armor made that very uncomfortable. A voice boomed from behind one of the curtains, "What have you brought to me today, disciples! Good tidings?"
"Oh, Great One, we have brought the warrior that was foretold, the Bringer of Grimm!" Explained one of the robed figures in a panic.
"He insisted that he must meet your excellence!" Explained the other. Dove could only internally sigh. He had done no such thing, but good to see that some people never change.
Best thing to do was to lean into it. "I bring great tidings, oh Great One. Ones which only the most enlightened could even fathom."
The voice behind the curtain sounded like it pondered that point for a moment, and then stated, "Leave us. I require only the learned to be a part of this."
In harmony, the two replied with, "Thank you for allowing us to embrace your presence, oh Great One!" as they slowly, and calmly left the room.
The curtain parted, and the voice appeared to be a hooded person, with a scorpion insignia inked into the robe from the hood to its tassels and hemming. Kneeling. In front of Dove, with their head bowed. "If you're here to kill me in the name of the Acolyte, please do it quickly."
"What?"
"What?" Replied the androgynous voice. "That's why you're here, right?"
"No, they just sort of escorted me here."
"But you're wearing the sign of a templar! A disciple of the Acolyte himself before his passing!" Blubbered out the hooded voice. "How could you not be a part of the church!"
"I'm not part of whatever church this is."
Dove could feel the stare of the person under the hood, when the inky blackness within turned up towards him. "Really? You're not here to kill me? And you're not part of the church?"
"Really, yes, and yes." This felt awfully redundant.
The hooded figure flopped back into a loose pile. "Oh dear, my life just flashed before my eyes. Really thought you were going to kill me there."
"Yeah. Sorry about that. Not today."
"Just really surprised me there," they panted, "Really thought you were one of them, a templar, that is."
"Is it the mask?"
They nodded. Or what could pass as a nod beneath all of their robes. "Yep."
"Are these masks really that uncommon?"
"I mean there were less than seventy lieutenants in the White Fang, and only seventeen were kept in circulation for the templars and their disciples," explained the figure. "So, yeah, they're pretty damn rare. Where'd you get yours?"
"A dead guy."
"Of course, you did." Snarked the figure. "I meant where, as in location."
"Little after the ferry stop, 'bout two days north?"
"Ah. Cool."
"Literally. Frozen to death, I think. Caught in a blizzard."
"Really? That sounds a lot like how I got this robe!"
"Wait, what?"
"What?"
"You not in the church either?"
The figure chuckled. "Technically not?"
Dove eased the creases in his forehead through his mask. "You're serious, aren't you?"
"Unfortunately, yes." They laughed nervously.
"And let me guess, you found the robe about a year ago?"
"Yes?"
"Did the same blizzard kill two of the highest-ranking members in some sort of fanatical cult, only to be impersonated by some bums?"
"Looks like it."
Dove grunted and pressed a button on his scroll. "Feel free to say what you want to say. You're no longer muted."
"What?" The figure stated.
"What? How? That's nearly statistically impossible? There is no way a natural blizzard could have spanned such an area!" Exclaimed Penny.
Both Dove and the figure shrugged. "Who knows what's possible and not possible nowadays?" Claimed Dove.
"Exactly! Who knows what could happen next? The world is in constant turmoil!" Cheerfully shrugged the figure.
"I mean, it couldn't have been zero," started Dove. "I mean, you're the one able to run the calculations on that."
"Wait what?" The figure looked up at Dove. "I don't think any person could do that."
Meanwhile, Penny had run into an issue. "What the. I cannot even. How. What the. I cannot even. How." Stammered Penny, ad nauseum.
"I guess that threw her for a loop." Commented Dove as he muted her and waited for her to finish frizting. First time he'd ever seen her this way. "Oh well."
"She's not a person, is she?" Stammered the figure.
"No, she isn't. She's still a friend of mine, though." Explained Dove.
"I think that makes sense." They pulled out a lighter and started lighting and extinguishing the light. "Not really. I don't get it."
"Fair enough. I can explain more, but it'll take me a while." Admitted Dove. "Or at lease as long as it takes for her to recover from whatever she's got."
"Are you sure she's not down for the count?"
"She'll be fine." Dove patted her server. "I've got my trust in her."
"Oh. Okay."
"You're just still rattled, aren't you?"
"Oh, most definitely."
"Got it." Dove squatted down on his haunches. "So, what next?"
"I would like you to explain it to me, mister…?"
"Real names or fake names."
"Fake ones," affirms the figure. "We don't know what the other looks like, and for both of our safeties, we should probably keep it that way."
"Right. I'm Bird. Would you like me to call you Go?"
"That…" The robed figure reached their hand into the darkness of their cloak. "Works actually. I don't dislike it."
"Alright, Go, you want me to explain it now, or let you have some time to absorb what you're about to learn?"
"Maybe do some now?" Nervously fielded Go. "I'll pass out wherever."
"That works for me." Grunted Dove as he made himself comfortable for one of the longest stories in his life.
