Yo it's from me the guy reuploading this.so I have successfully found the remaining chapters to this fanfictions.I'm also aware alot of people want to re-read this fanfic or haven't read it yet and have heard of it. good thing is I will take my time to find fanfiction that have been deleted and post them here. it.took me three days find the files for this one so it might take a while for bigger fanfiction sense this one is about 95k words in total.Any way take care and enjoy the fanfiction
Chapter 11
11
The Job
Sheffield, The Prancing Pony…
Klaus Tennstedt was certainly the scariest man Sierra had ever met. The man did not smile much, or laugh. His face could have been made of granite for all she knew, but regardless he kept his word. Like right now, when he stood between her and one of the rowdier patrons of the bar. Klaus was having none of the guy's crap, Sierra watched as the patron tried to take a swing at Klaus only for the mercenary to duck the clumsy blow. Grabbing the man's outstretched arm, Klaus slammed his foot into the back of the man's knee causing him to go down on one knee. He then twisted the limb in his hands, causing the unruly thug to start screaming.
"Are you going to leave?" Klaus spoke with pitiless detachment, his expression never changing. His cold eyes stared right at his victim's. "Or am I going to have to break your arm?"
"I give! I give! I'll leave I swear!" The drunken lout screamed, feeling the bones of his left arm start to creak.
Klaus let the man go. "I see you here again," He said, his voice sibilant. "And I will remove your arm, instead of breaking it. Get out of here."
The drunk fled, and with that done the tavern returned to its usual boisterous atmosphere. Klaus Tennstedt resumed his usual place at the bar. Sierra let out a breath that she had been holding. Violence never really sat well with her but she was glad that no one had to go to the healers… or the guards. Molly would have gladly put the man into the ground but Klaus was more effective… in a more brutal sort of way. Father had once taught her that there were many types of pain in the world, the most obvious being the one that hurts. The other type of pain that wasn't as obvious but was just as devastating was the type that altered. The type of pain that changed a man utterly. The Elf continued her present tasks.
Klaus was staying on as a guard for a few months. He had said that he wanted to find some work but Sierra managed to convince the tavern owner to hire Klaus on as a guard of sorts. She didn't believe that it would work but it did. Klaus certainly seemed grateful, as he had a roof over his head for the time that he was here with her. Klaus had originally planned on heading to Zipangu, to start a new life after the tragedy at Lescatie.
Sierra hoped he found an opportunity here in Sheffield instead. She felt for the poor man, whenever he woke up early in the morning when she had just come in to work she'd catch a glimpse of the stony face he affected and watch as it fade away to a certain melancholy. He was… sad, but he didn't show it to anyone. As if he perceived it a weakness.
"Miss Sierra."
Klaus's cold voice shook her from her reverie.
"Ah, yes? Did you need something Klaus?" She asked.
"Are you alright? That man didn't seem to handle rejection too well." Klaus stated.
Sierra sighed. "Yes, I do get those kinds of people from time to time." She told him. "It's not that much of a big deal."
Klaus looked at her, his dark eyes piercing. Sierra felt her face heat up in embarrassment as she knew that she was blushing. "Didn't seem that way when you asked for my help." He remarked, not to offend but just an observation. "I did not really get any details about your other problem either."
"Ah! W-Well, he just comes around every few weeks or so. He claims that he is an aspiring tradesman." Sierra answered. "And he thinks that I can be a ticket to the higher social circles."
Klaus blinked. "Are you… a runaway noble?" He asked. Sierra blinked in surprise, wondering why he made that assertion.
"No." Sierra answered shaking her head. "A pretty face can get a lot of attention here, but I know better. Even the Entertainment Company doesn't snatch up girls on their looks alone. Succeeding based on your merit is important in this place."
"I see." Klaus said turning his head to the side. "Would this man happen to be the one who had just entered a few minutes ago then?"
Sierra's eyes widened as she beheld the portly man entering the bar with two of his cronies. "Sir" Ephraim Ludendorf, self proclaimed master of Ludendorf Company even if he was just the second son who would inherit a modest inheritance. Sierra sighed in disappointment as Ephraim noticed her. Ephraim was large, rotund and dressed in the most ostentatious clothing ever known in Sheffield. Ludendorf Company was a large, but unpopular, clothing company tailored for humans. It was obviously more human inclined, rumor had it that the company liked to barge in on monster sales and were highly supportive of the Order and its anti-mamono policies. Dangerous, but successful in any case.
Situated in the more affluent areas of the city of Sheffield, the Ludendorf Company headquarters also served as Ephraim's personal estate.
Sierra didn't know who she offended in a previous life to be the apple of Ephraim's eye but as she stared helplessly into Klaus Tennstedt's eyes… The man nodded once. Sierra let out an exhale.
"My dear Sierra! How have you been this fine evening?" Ephraim had a nasally tone. Sierra watched him twirl the end of his mustache. The two thugs flanked either side of him. "I must request that you end your shift for the night and come with me."
"No." Sierra said timidly. "I don't want to. I have to work today and tomorrow…"
"I must insist fair lady!" Ephraim said even as the thugs beside him advanced closer. "A flower such as yourself does not belong in a place like-"
A choking sound alerted Ephraim and alerted the now terrified Sierra Underwood to the young mercenary currently holding one of his thugs in a headlock. The man was choking, and was beginning to turn a dangerous shade of blue as the mercenary strangled the life out of him.
Already the tavern atmosphere soured and silenced as the patrons looked at the ensuing chaos. Some men gulped nervously as they beheld the mysterious foreigner that had been hired on as a guard. They thought him a passing fancy, or even a fraudster trying to get in between young Sierra Underwood's legs but the truth was always darker than they ever imagined. Tall, and sinister garbed in a gray coat, the mercenary was the very definition of the word dangerous. A rarity even in these times.
"And who might you be!?" Ephraim's face turned ruddy as the thug's struggling slowed until he was unconscious.
"Her guard." The mercenary answered Ephraim. He dropped the unconscious thug on the floor.
Ephraim's remaining guard shoved past the merchant, raising his fist. The mercenary put a stop to that horseshit with a swift punch to the throat. As the thug gasped for air, Ephraim backed off. "Y-You have no idea who you're messing with!"
The mercenary didn't care. "I think you should leave." He said quietly.
"You really think that I, Ephraim Ludendorf, will bow to the will of some foreign mercenary!?" The portly merchant growled.
"I really think you should leave, Mister Ephraim!" Sierra cried out. "Please! I have never been interested in your affections. Please leave! You've caused enough trouble!"
Ephraim snarled but the mercenary shoved him back a step. His neutral expression and horrifically cold eyes were disturbing. Even worse, he had a hand on the obvious sword that was hanging off his side. Ephraim spat in between the mercenary's boots.
"You'll regret this!" Ephraim shook his fist at the mercenary.
"You try something again…" The mercenary said in cold blood as his eyes narrowed. "And I will find your house and I will slit your throat."
It was a threat no one would have made against someone like Ephraim but Sierra Underwood knew he could, and would, do it. The raven haired elf trembled as Ephraim turned and stomped out of the tavern. Shaking, she started on wiping down the bar anything to distract her from what happened. She knew she was in trouble now, and as she gazed at her protector's back, she realized she may have unleashed something terrible upon Ephraim Ludendorf.
"Are you okay?" A quiet voice asked her.
Sierra looked up eyes wide at Klaus Tennstedt's stony expression, although there was no malice in his eyes. Just concern.
"I… I made a mistake. I should have gone with him. I'm going to cause you a lot of trouble." She whimpered.
"Did you want to go with him?" Klaus asked her.
"N-no…" Sierra trembled. "No I didn't want to. He was going to do something horrible to me, I felt that somehow."
"You had every right to refuse." Klaus said to her bluntly.
"Now he'll come back with even more thugs!" Sierra cried in frustration. "What am I supposed to do!?"
"Nothing." Klaus told her which shocked Sierra into silence. "They're my problem now."
"B-But…" Sierra whispered. "He'll hurt me."
Klaus looked at her neutrally. "No he won't." He said quietly. "Never again."
He then looked at her seriously. "Lock your door tonight. Do not leave the tavern whatsoever."
Cyril had no need for his sword this night. Not for this job. Sierra was right, the fat merchant was not going to take Klaus Tennstedt interfering with his chance to score some tail, whether the girl in question was willing or not. Cyril would have personally avoided doing something like this for someone he barely knew but Sierra Underwood, the Elf at the Tavern, did not deserve the fate of becoming someone's possession.
It honestly reminded Cyril of one of Arianna's stories, and how she ended up in Yharnam in the first place. Cyril unconsciously tightened his fists. He was not going to allow anything to happen this time.
Today, he was Klaus Tennstedt. Tonight, the Good Hunter is going to put the fear of gods into an arrogant man. The Hunter's eyes gleamed underneath his hat as he departed the inn, stepping into the shadows of the alley. He was looking for the Ludendorf Estates and it should not be too hard, judging from the way the merchants had mostly resided in the middle district of the city.
Cyril moved, a shadow within the shadows, with purpose. He still had a job to do, and honestly wondered why he was doing so. He could have let the girl get carted off for all he cared. The Hunter knew why of course, because of the tiny remnant of humanity he had left.
The Hunter made it to his destination, the Ludendorf Estates. He walked slowly, off to the side of the guard who rubbed his eyes and yawned. With the practiced ease of an assassin, Cyril grabbed the man in a headlock and dragged him inside the estate grounds, hiding behind the bushes cultivated by the gardeners. Cyril leaned in to whisper in the man's ears.
"Ephraim Ludendorf." He spoke quietly. "Where is he?"
"I-In his bedchambers. He-He's not taking any visitors-"
Cyril choked the man into unconsciousness. The Hunter moved on, unsheathing one of his small throwing knives. He continued his infiltration into the Ludendorf estate, by the way of the wine cellar. Cyril crouched behind a row of barrels, knife in hand as he surveyed his surroundings. It was dark but he dared not risk a light-
Torchlight. Cyril ducked, hearing a manservant grumbling about working so late. The Hunter moved away from the light, already seeing a way up into the estate proper. Excellent.
"Stupid Charles and his stupid scary stories about some loony hunter with a chip on his shoulder."
Cyril froze when he heard that. So his exploits had indeed reached Sheffield. He shook his head of the thought. He was pretty sure he was mad, but loony seemed to sound much more insulting. He easily moved undetected, avoiding the grumbling manservant like a shadow making his way into the estate. The longer Ephraim Ludendorf held his stubborn belief that he could do whatever he want to the person under Cyril's protection meant that she was always in danger.
So Cyril would show him just how wrong he would be if he decided to take this further. If he escalated anything after this night, Cyril would kill him. He should be grateful that it would be mercifully quick. Cyril moved through the halls of the estate, having only one wretched encounter. The maid who spotted him shook before Cyril wrapped an arm around her neck as well. Placing the unconscious maid out of his way Cyril at last found the office of his prey.
Ludendorf was busy signing papers, unconcerned until his door opened.
Ephraim stood up. "Who the hell is there?"
Cyril stepped in and the man paled at the sight of the tattered tricorne hat of the Good Hunter. Cyril closed the door and took the seat in front of Ephraim's desk. A candle was lit on the right hand side.
"Sit." Cyril said coldly. "Scream, and you will eat that candle."
"Y-You're that mercenary!" Ephraim whispered harshly. "How did you-"
"I want you to think about how I got in here without your guards noticing." Cyril told him quietly. "And how threatening me would work in your favor. I came here for one thing only. Leave Sierra Underwood alone."
The Hunter stabbed his knife into Ephraim's desk. "Escalate this any further, and I will come back at this time. And that will be your last night in this world." He said as he stood up and walked out of Ephraim's office.
The portly merchant sank into his seat, pale as a ghost. He looked at the small knife stabbed into his desk.
Perhaps he did need to leave that elf alone then…
Sierra Underwood went to work the next day, feeling that a burden had been lifted from her shoulders. As the Elf finished her preparations and headed down to the tavern to start getting it ready she noted that Mister Tennstedt was already there, putting a stool down. He then reached for the broom by his side and began sweeping.
The Elf's eyes met the mercenary's. Klaus gave her a nod in greeting. "Figured I should help you out." He said, in his usually neutral tone.
"Ah… well, um…" Sierra started. "N-Nothing happened last night. Did-Did you…"
"He won't trouble you anymore." Klaus said.
Sierra sighed in relief, holding a hand to her chest. "Thank you…" She whispered.
Klaus said nothing. Instead he continued his work, sweeping the floor before the morning rush came in. Once the sweeping was done, Sierra opened the doors and allowed the morning's guests to come in. Lumberjacks, miners, the blacksmiths, craftsmen. Monster and humans all, they entered the tavern to get some warm food, a drink or two, before heading out to start the day.
Business as usual.
Demon Realm Lescatie…
"Our target is the Moon Scented Hunter."
Fina clenched her fists as Wilmarina Noscrim conjured the image of said target onto a long scroll.
"We have been tasked to find him and, if feasible, bring him here for questioning." Wilmarina the Succubus looked to her team members. "I would advise restraint and extreme caution. He has shown to be more than capable of destroying us single-handedly."
"He was last spotted heading eastward, the Eyes of Makai gave me this report a few days ago so I assume he has gone into hiding." Wilmarina continued. She looked at Elt who squirmed uncomfortably. Fina knew why. Apart from the now missing Sasha Fullmoon, he, Wilmarina, Fina herself and Wilmarina had been the only ones who had encountered the target personally.
And he had helped Elt get out of a bad situation, he was uncomfortable with that.
"What do we do… when we find him, Lady Noscrim?" Elt asked.
Wilmarina smiled, trying to reassure him. "We will apprehend him, Elt. We do what we have to to help Lady Druella."
"… Here, here…" Ursula spoke softly. The Demon had been relieved of her command but she was still determined to atone for the role she had to play in Druella's dire condition. Fina could tell that the Demon was desperate to regain her honor, and was ready to die for it. Fina would have sneered at her had she the chance.
Fina didn't think it was going to be that simple. The Dhampir crossed her arms, of course she had a more personal stake in all of this. She didn't give a damn about Druella or Ursula at all. It was Natsume who needed curing, not the one who had decided to push the buttons of a dangerous murderer. She was not interested in helping Ursula regain her honor. She was here to help Natsume heal, that was the end of it.
At least she had three days to spend her time with Natsume. It had been a long period of training up and Fina knew her swordsmanship was nothing compared to the perfection that was Wilmarina Noscrim, she could hold her own among her party and she was damned proud of that fact.
Wilmarina Noscrim was the leader, a Knight turned Succubus. She was the former Hero of Lescatie and the scion of House Noscrim.
Ursula, Daughter of Clan Gamigin and the former master of the 4th Company. She was a Demon with considerable combat experience that would prove useful.
Elt was the talented, yet kindhearted, recruit from the Holy Knight's training company under the command of Merse Dascaros.
Primera Concerto, a half elf turned Werewolf, was their resident archer and tracker. Like Wilmarina she too was in love with Elt.
The magician of their group was the infamous Mimil Miltie, a famous student of the Magic School of Magitec, and a powerful Witch in her own right.
The last was her, Fina Brusilov. A Dhampir who was probably in over her head but had nothing else to lose. Because she had a sister that needed saving from herself. She had no loyalty to the Fourth, and she had said that right in her father's face.
How she had not been tossed from the castle walls was beyond her but Fina didn't focus on that anymore.
She got home late. Fina opened the door to her house, already smelling dinner being cooked. Seras stopped stirring the pot and looked at her. The vampire looked horrible. Fina was guilty about that, mother wasn't sleeping or eating properly and she had to deal with Natsume alone.
"You're home." Seras said dully. But she smiled when Fina embraced her.
"How is Natsume?" Fina asked, her voice brittle.
"She painted again." Seras whispered. "You can go see her, I think she was finishing up."
Fina didn't hesitate as she walked up the stairs. There, she saw Natsume's door was open. The Kunoichi had finished her latest painting. Fina could feel an undercurrent in the room as she looked at all of the paintings. Natsume truly had blossomed a budding talent, and yet Fina was disgusted with the subject matter.
There, to the left, she saw the inside of a clock tower. The woman sitting in the chair in the middle of the chamber was surely dead. Her throat had been slit.
Another painting depicted a horrific beast, this one a horse like entity and yet there was no madness in its eyes as it held a glowing sword in its hand.
Still another was that of the Moon Scented Hunter himself, standing tall against a gigantic, wolf like horned beast. He was holding that demented weapon in one hand.
All of them seemed almost real, painted in reds and blues and blacks. Fina swore she could see some of them moving…
Fina blinked. She rubbed her head to ward off a forming headache.
"Is that you, Fina?" Natsume said still facing away from the Dhampir.
"Yes. We are departing in three days." Fina answered.
"I see." Natsume turned around. She had indeed shrunk in on herself. Fina walked over and embraced her sister tight.
"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you." Fina whispered. "I'm sorry this happened to you. I won't let anything else hurt you. I'll find a way to help you, I promise."
Natsume returned the embrace. "Come home alive." She said softly.
They heard something bang against a wall. Natsume flinched and began to tremble as Fina looked outside. She rushed downstairs, a hand on the hilt of her sword as she entered the first floor.
"Oh!"
It was the Elder Banshee. Seras was sheepishly fixing the chair she knocked over. The Banshee was sitting at the middle of the table. Her bright blue eyes twinkled with amusement as she beheld Fina awkwardly removing her hand from the sword hilt.
"Greetings." The Banshee said. "You know why I am here?"
"Not exactly." Seras muttered. "Especially when you decided to walk through my bloody kitchen wall."
"Come now, I merely wish to bid good fortune to your daughter." The Elder tittered. "I am watching her with great interest."
"Great." Fina stammered. "I suppose another prophecy is in order then?"
The Elder Banshee smiled. "Be warned. You and your party will not be the only ones moving against the Moon Scented Hunter." She said. "Once you meet him, you will have to make an important choice. For if you do not… I believe that will be the end of your journey."
"Let me guess." Fina's tone was firm. "We all die."
The Elder Banshee's smile grew wider. "Such talent with divination." She leaned back in her chair. "I hear many things on the wind… You may encounter another servant of the gods…"
"Wonderful." Fina commented. "Well… who is it."
"A Valkyrie."
"Fuck." Fina swore.
"Fina!" Seras looked at the Dhampir aghast.
Valkyries. Servants of the Chief God herself, there to guide a mortal into becoming a Hero humanity needed them to be. Well, if there was something else she was expecting to go wrong at least she knew what it was.