Chapter 8: The Mournival

Inside the inn, the three had sat at a table in silence that had been growing ever so uncomfortable. The Innkeeper had not shown up, as if there was no reason to at this point in the morning. The options that Christoff had to bring up had been weighing heavily, going to the Theocracy was something he did not want to do. Even if they did, they would likely be killed. They weren't quite adventurers, well, Nate had never been, and that fact alone would ruin their façade in mere moments. Whatever path they chose, it would have to come quickly...

"So…what is about to take place?" Glenys asked?

Christoff had raised his index fingers. "Not now, for now, small talk."

"I don't think I need to remind you that we have no time for such pleasantries." Said Glenys

"Indulge me, then," Christoff said.

Nate had shrugged. "What did that woman want? She seemed to take a liking to you, perhaps the only woman with such a warped mind to do that."

Christoff immediately grew bored of the conversation, and he shook his head. What that woman wanted was no concern of his. He pressed his gauntleted knuckles on the table before he spoke; this was a conversation he dreaded having. He knew no one would like this option; he did not enjoy the thought of it either. The Theocracy, what a damned place. If they were to go there, they either get executed or sent right back into another war. For Christoff, that would not be bad, for that is all he had known.

"The Slane Theocracy. That woman stated that they were harboring adventurers or taking them in. We all have our qualms with the Theocracy, but I see no other option. Before, I was against it; now, it occurred that anything else would be a fantasy." He explained, "Time is not on our side anymore; any moment, the Sorcerer Kingdom could annex this territory."

"You worry too much." Nate said

Christoff shot him an amused glance. 'So you keep saying.'

"If we keep running, our fates will follow the others. Your planning will not bring our salvation but rather our doom. You do not think of Glenys but only of us. I am tired of running; I am sick of playing this game. Perhaps the Sorcerer King has a plan for us. We just do not see it yet. We are still alive after all." Nate said; regret had hit him the second he poured out his emotions.

Christoff had reached out as if he was going to bless or Embrace Nate. Unfortunately, though, that was not what he was about to do. Christoff's blood had run hot, hotter than it had before, but he showed none of it in his face.

The Palace, it flickered in Christoff's mind once again.

The King. He wishes to kill the King, this traitorous dog in front of him wishes harm on his majesty...

Christoff had risen up from his seat.

[Martial Arts: Smash] He muttered

The Knight had landed a blow, striking Nate in the chest and lifting him off the ground. Nate's armor had cracked, and pinprick droplets of blood had flown into the air. Nevertheless, the smash had only delivered blunt damage.

Glenys had frozen. Everything froze, and stillness spread like a blast wave. Nate struck the ground. The broken stone exploded upwards from the ground. Glenys had watched in complete shock, unable to do anything at this moment in time. The threads of Nate's name were silent in her mind.

Christoff lowered his hand. His face was set, features chiseled by shadow. His glaive had been behind him. He reached for it and held his glaive in both hands. Nate tried to rise to his knees, mouth opening. Instead, he turned and swung in a single movement. The blow was slow, unhurried, carrying the contempt of a seasoned warrior striking a copper-plated warrior.

[Martial Arts: Smash] He said again, this time it was out loud. His voice was cold, and his look had been accusing.

The glaive had been imbued with magic; its weight was hard. It struck Nate in the chest and snapped his head up as he flew back, twisting, blood gasping from between shattered teeth. Christoff stood; the glaive was held casually at his side, his presence towering like a thundercloud, roaring with silence.

In truth, Nate had been sick of running. He wanted to live a normal life, and he and Glenys had formed a bond. He thought the Sorcerer Kingdom would not be so bad; he had given up. All hope he held was gone now; he just wished to live. The mistake he made was talking down on the men who died and openly stating that is what he wanted. Christoff had taken it as if he were spitting in King Ramposa's face.

Nate had given up the second the castle had been destroyed, that is when he made up his mind on what he wanted. He hid it from Christoff, only speaking to Glenys. In truth, he was going to bring it up when the party had come together at the table, but Christoff talking about going to another place entirely to obviously continue fighting had set a fuse off, causing all of his emotions to break through as if it were water rushing out of a crack in a dam.

Glenys had not known what to do, she knew Christoff was devoted to the Kingdom but did not foresee this outcome. She had been calculating for a while, only thinking he was a broken soul who could not fight. But here, here, he had been fighting as if he meant it. She could clearly see that Nate would no longer be alive if something was not done.

"Stop this madness, Christoff!" Glenys shouted, pulling out her sword. Her eyes gazed fiercely on Christoff, but he did not move. He did not even offer her a glace, the ultimate disrespect one could give another warrior.

The smell of ash had filled Christoff's lungs again, he shuddered with every breath he had taken. Although all of his thoughts were about slaying the traitor that lay in front of him, the anticipation had slowly been finding its way in.

The ashy smell had gone as quickly as it came, but the rage remained.

Nate had begun to rise, running from the corners of his eyes as he looked at Glenys, and she finally moved towards Christoff.

He had finally turned to her; her face was twisted with a mixture of rage and regret. That was what he saw for a moment, then it changed. Her face was a skull with sockets as dark as the night sky. She had raised her sword, preparing to swing. How could she not? Christoff had beaten Nate nearly to death and said nothing the whole time.

Christoff struck her with his glaive, but she did not see it coming. She did not know if he shielded it or the speed was too great for her to follow.

She could not even describe what happened, but their levels were severely different. He had been Mithril, and she was only ranked at Iron in adventurer terms. Glenys had felt herself slipping into blood-edged blackness, ripped from any notion of gravity or place. She felt weightless and then was sent crashing back into a wooden table.

Glenys had let go of the weapon she was holding. It hit the floor and slid towards Nate. She was trying to get up but could not before she passed out. His attention once again had turned towards Nate.

Christoff stepped forward, pushing Nate to the ground with his glaive. Being careful not to penetrate his armor. When he was on the ground, Christoff pointed the blade of his glaive at his chest. His eyes were cold and glassed over. Nate had looked like a robed Skeleton at times, and other times it was Nate. His curse had begun to take hold. It had happened before, but this time was different.

"You wound me." Christoff finally spoke.

"I wish to ser-" Nate tried speaking but was cut off.

"You are faithless. You covet what is not yours and cannot be yours. You undo all that we have done for this Kingdom. You are a traitor to everything that Ramposa entrusts us in."

The Kingdom was gone, but why had he been referring to it in the present as if it were still around?

Christoff thought he would protest for a moment, but then Nate stilled, his features stern and calm beneath the running blood.

"You are flawed. You will falter, and the Theocracy will abandon you."

Christoff had raised his glaive; his breath had begun to shudder again.

The Palace. That is where he was. Yeah. in front of him had been-

In the blink of an eye, corpses had surrounded Christoff. Corpses of soldiers inside of the Palace. The smell of death had ripened in the air, he looked down, and he no longer saw Nate. Instead, he saw the Skeleton again. His armor was not his own either; he wore gray armor and a maroon cloak.

Nate spoke again, ripping whatever vision had entrapped Christoff away from him. His curse was getting worse. It was about to overtake him, and then it would be worse than he could imagine. There was nothing he could do at the moment, or so he thought, but he managed to wrest control back.

"Go." Christoff said, his voice strained, and his words were slurring. He stumbled backward. His vision shifted from the inn he was in and the Palace. He noticed Nate not moving, but how could he? "Go!" Christoff had screamed, his voice echoing throughout the inn. A blue potion appeared in Nate's hands as he grabbed it from his Satchel. He drank it and was able to move, sheepishly getting up. He walked over to Glenys and forced a sip into her mouth. She awoke. Christoff saw the two of them helping each other out but then nothing.

Christoff collapsed to the floor with a loud crash as his plate armor rattled. He did not expect his curse to already take hold of him, not yet. However, he felt he was not alone in that mind of his, and that feeling grew in strength every time he landed a hit on Nate and Glenys.

Those two were now gone, pushed away by Christoff, who had been trapped in the enthralls of the curse.

His dream was horrid. Though he had been picked up by people unknown, he lay twitching in a bed at a different Inn for quite obvious reasons. He was enmeshed in dreams that had been washed with blood. Armies of the Undead had marched across the faces of burning villages and cities on their way to Re-Estize. The Sorcerer King and his rabble had led their twisted legions upon the path of blood. What seemed like the screams of a trillion human beings shook the fabric of reality.

Then, it was like the scenery had rippled. Hosts of Undead poured from bleeding cuts that appeared. Brazen bells, thick with verdigris tolled. Doom! Doom! Doom!

Christoff had been surrounded on all sides. Overhead, a giant face manifested, leering down at him with the certainty of triumph.

"Ainz." Gasped Christoff

A giant, skeletal hand had reached down to pluck him up and crush him.

"Christoff." The woman's voice was muffled by the hellish tumult.

"Christoff!" Small hands had then took hold of his arm

Christoff awoke all of a sudden. Still ensnared by the horrors of his dream, his hands shot out and grabbed the woman by the throat. His teeth bared, his face flushed. It was like his body was forcing itself into battle readiness.

'Christoff, please! It is me!" Scama's fingers had pried at Christoff's crushing grip. Had she gotten serious, she would have gotten out of it.

Christoff's teeth prickled at his lips. The woman's pulse was thrilling under his fingertips.

"Christoff, please!" She cried out one last time; this was seemingly his last chance to let go before she would intervene.

The crushing pressure at Scama's throat had released. Christoff's face had cleared. Scama staggered back. Christoff paused for a second but leaped out of his bed and went to the woman's side, steadying hands that had tried to strangle her only moments before.

"Scama!" Remorse had choked Christoff "I…..I apologize. Have I harmed you? My dreams as of late have been dark. Are you hurt? I could have broken your neck."

"But I am not dead, I am quite well." Scama had said, gasping hoarsely, "It was I who brought you here after I found you unconscious in the Inn, I should have been more careful, and I will be."

A small smile had come to Christoff's face. "It seems your spirits are unharmed, at the very least. How long was I asleep?"

"Seven hours." She replied, rubbing her throat.

Seven Hours? He shot her a questioning look; how did the barkeep not find him? He remembered little of what happened, all he knows is that he officially has the status "Cursed Knight." With that, he knew all he needed to know.

"It seems bizarre, I am aware, more people have left the city. However, I can not blame them; rumors have it that the Sorcerer Kingdom is coming back." Scama continued as if she could tell what he was going to ask.

"My Party?" He asked, "What of them?"

Scama shrugged; she brushed a strand of white hair out her eyes before she spoke.

"You were alone when I found you. It looked as if a battle had occurred."

That's right...A battle did occur. The memories had flooded back to Christoff, though they were broken. He recalled raising his weapon against Nate and Glenys, though he could not remember why. He had the strong urge to ask her if the Palace endured for some reason. But, ultimately, he did not go through with it.

Christoff shrugged. "It is nothing to concern yourself with."

The woman nodded. She did not wish to know what happened. Ignorance is bliss, as they say. She figured it was just a conflict of interests gone bad. Adventuring groups had always turned on each other, now were no exception. She was even shocked that hers had lasted as long as they did.

"I see…" She stated. She tapped her plated thigh and spoke, "What do you plan on doing now? It seems you have no party at the moment."

Christoff shot her a confused glare. What was her malfunction? Had the fall of the Kingdom made her this aloof? No, he took a moment and figured it out. She had only wished to grant more fame to her party, they were her family as it was. If she was to recruit him, they would have another warrior who is conveniently the same rank as the rest of her party. Though this would work out for Christoff, he would be able to head to a place where he could continue the fight against the Sorcerer Kingdom.

"The same I have been doing." He replied

She nodded; she wanted to let out a sigh but figured it would not be the right time for such a thing. One of her party members wanted to speak with Christoff anyway. 'I'll just put the question off until he speaks with her.' She thought to herself

"Someone wants to speak with you actually, a member of my party." Scama said

"I do not wish to speak with them." Christoff replied almost immediately.

Scama shook her head; even after all this, he acted like this.

"It will be just for a moment."

"Fine." Christoff grumbled before struggling to get up. Whatever this curse was, it took a toll on his mental health. Of course, he realized that, but he decided now was not the time to dwell on what had just taken place. He knew it himself. It was only a matter of time until he was lost. He had heard rumors of a knight in Baharuth suffering from something similar, but he didn't know if those rumors were true.

Christoff shook his head as he followed Scama out the door, adjusting his plate armor as he followed. The floor had been much sturdier, and in the distance, he heard voices, not many but enough to know that other people had been present at this inn. After clearing the corner of the hallway, he saw that most of the tables had been filled. The layout was the same as the last inn, except this one had been more stylized. The smell of cooked fish mixed with booze was almost enough to overpower his senses.

"This Way." Scama said as she tried to take his arm, but Christoff rejected by slapping her hand off as she made contact.

Scama led him to a table with a blonde-haired woman, who had a necklace of the earth god hung off her neck and wore clothes far too short for her. Christoff immediately scoffed; the other man next to her had donned leather armor but wore a hood covering his face. A rogue, it must have been.

"Oh, is this the man you have talked about, Scama?" The Priestess finally spoke up, putting a hand under her chin. "He isn't nearly as handsome as you stated, he looks a bit too old for me."

Anger flared in Christoff's aura. How was this prostitute going to tell him something that obscene? He immediately turned to Scama, who was bright red at this point.

"I will give you a chance to explain yourself, so speak. You waste my time by bringing me to this prostitute who has no place here." He spat.

The Priestess looked at him and shrugged, "Everyone always says that, sheesh."

"Have you seen how you dress?" The hooded man next to her spoke, trying to hold in his laughter.

"This is my party.." Scama had spoken, her voice now in a low mumble. "But, we are Mithril class and a good team!"

"I do not care." Christoff said, his words as emotionless as the face underneath his helmet was. He glanced at their tags; they were all Mithril. But how? How could someone like that wench of a priestess become Mithril? The standard must have dropped during his time in the service, that is the only explanation for such a thing.

His attention turned towards the blonde-haired priestess; Christoff spoke once more with almost pristine clarity, "Were you the one who wished to speak to me?"

The Priestess nodded. "Yes, that is me."

"Then speak, woman. Do not waste more of my time." He let out a small sigh. This woman was already getting on his nerves.

The woman cleared her throat. "I am Lilynette Piani, a priestess that is a part of the Four Armaments adventurer group. "I wished to speak with you to determine what type of person you are since Scama has a tendency to pursue unripe fruits."

Christoff bit his lip; what was this fool even on about? Unripe fruits? His gaze flickered between the woman and Scama. This place was on the brink of being capitulated, and all this woman spoke about was fruits. Christoff had opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Scama spoke.

"Lily!" She exclaimed

"Oh, my apologies." Lilynette had said, smiling slyly at the woman.

"I apologize for the bluntness of my companion, she is good at heart, I assure you." Scama said, looking towards Christoff.

"This was a waste of my time. I assumed there would be something worth talking about, and this fool blabbers on about fruits." Christoff spat, his gaze narrowed towards Scama. He had hoped for something noteworthy, but nothing was found.

"And what will you do?" The hooded man said, his gaze obscured by the hood that rested on his head, "The way I heard it, your party has abandoned you. Unfortunately, though, I could guess why they did."

His gaze instantly turned towards the man; he wanted to reach across and hit him. Such a thing would be his doom. Sure he could likely engage one of them, but fighting them all would be a death wish. Death was something he did not wish for, not yet.

"Do not speak of things you know nothing about." Christoff said, his gauntleted fists balling up.

"I know more than you think, lad. Your party has left the city; you are alone." The man spoke, his voice calm.

Christoff let out a sigh. The reality of the situation had finally hit him. He expected his party to leave, but hearing it from another person's mouth had drilled it into his mind. He turned to Scama and shrugged.

"Why do you want me in your party? There are other options available."

Scama replied a few seconds after, her voice low and her eyes showing a hint of sadness, "Our Magic Caster has left; they opted to abandon this life entirely. I do not want to go into the Theocracy with only three people. None of us want that. I think you would be a valuable asset. I am not asking you to give me an answer right away, but please think about it."

Christoff nodded, and his gaze shifted to the party members that stood before him. That was the only modicum of an answer he would give to the group. He walked away, letting out a sigh as he did so. He initially did not want to go to the Theocracy, but it was better than dying a death that had no honor.

The wind had shifted to the south and brought a hard edge from the sea with it. The cold had blasted through his worn down plate armor; he felt as if it went straight to his bone. The night had been quiet, more so than usual. This place had fewer people in it than he would have expected. Christoff's eyes had scoured the seal lne in the dying light for any ships that came, not that it would matter. This place would most likely not see shipments like that for the rest of its time. The Knight had no idea why this woman was so interested in him. She could have picked hundreds of others. Though with the offer, the randomness held the appeal in his favor.

Scama could have picked anyone else, and Christoff was almost sure that the outcome of their potential journey would not be so different.

He watched what remained of the Town Guard with narrowed eyes. There were many tiny differences: short or tall; fat or thin; young or old; brave or cowardly; clever or stupid. None of those differences had meant anything, however. For the most part, they were simply a hand to swing a sword if the Sorcerer Kingdom had shown up. In the grand scheme of things, with the Sorcerer Kingdom sacking Re-Estize, their lives were wholly pointless.

There was nothing truly remarkable about any of them.

Each of these men had no more impact upon the fate of this city than a grain of sand would have on the orbit of a planet. But like anything else, it was the quantity that mattered even when a situation was as bad as this one. Enough sand, one grain at a time, could potentially tip a planet on its axis: Enough men could possibly determine the future of mankind. One human was unimportant, a million were hard to ignore, and a billion…

Scama was just one of those unimpressive ones. Still, she was amongst the countless individuals who wished to see the Sorcerer King's plan foiled.

She had learned the ways of fighting for reasons Christoff could probably never understand; after all, everyone had become an adventurer for their own reasons. On her own, she was nothing, with her group of friends they had a party. If they go with the Theocracy, that party will become a company. On and on, one man after another becoming a mass army group and launching crusades. Once they were that big, they would be utterly unaware of each other, but they would be spread about on the combat lines that were set up.

Scama had just been a woman at the right place at the wrong time. Her sense of righteousness in not allowing her to abandon a city in its need empowered her to want to stop the Sorcerer Kingdom. It seemed that she was all of those that he had just listed to Christoff. A breath of fresh air.

This caused Christoff to smile to himself, wondering if he should write his observations down to preserve history. The Teachings of Christoff? No. It was better to leave philosophy to other, more educated minds. The actual teachings of Christoff had been with the glaive. Those were valuable lessons for any man to learn.

The chime of a distant bell had interrupted his thoughts, and he practically jumped. It was the bell likely telling people to go indoors since the sun had gone down entirely now. The street lights illuminated the now dead streets, and Christoff had made his way back to the inn where Scama and the others had been. He glanced up at the sky; the stars had barely been covered by the clouds and shone with almost their full might.

Christoff took a deep breath; even with his helmet on, he could see his breath.

He adjusted the scar on his helmet to make the wind more bearable. It was not that it was cold; he was just not used to life on the shore. The coast had been a whole different animal than any of the inland regions.

He wondered what Nate had been up to for a moment, pausing while he thought. A million options presented themselves to Christoff as if he had opened the door to a royal party, but he opted not to pay attention to them. Christoff knew that Nate and his newfound Girlfriend were better off without him. The real question was, how long would it be until what happened to his other group surfaced to him again? It was one thing dealing with the Sorcerer King; it was another dealing with a party member lost in the depth of rage.

He finally had made it back to the inn; most of the people inside had left and gone to their respective homes. Only a few others remained, and they all had bags on the right side of the inn. He scanned the left and saw Scama alone at a table. Her party had gone to bed by the looks of it, so she sat there and waited for Christoff.

It was apparent that her party did not expect him to return. Christoff himself did not hope to return but reminded himself of a crucial fact while he was thinking. He approached her, plate armor clanking, which had caused her to look his way.

"I accept." He stated

A look of confusion had come across her face, she even expected him to decline, and it was apparent "W-What?" She asked, stammering on her words

Perhaps he had thought too highly of her before.

"I will not repeat myself. You have my answer, do what you will with it." He stated again

Letting out a sigh, she nodded.

"Meet us here again in the morning. We will talk specifics then."